SWF Storm (August 2, 2002)

August 3, 2002

The sound of a cold wind whistles through the darkened the Sovereign Band arena. Suddenly several medium sized white pyros explode in the center of the stage

BOOM

…as a rain of blue sparks cascades down to the stage in front of the SmarkTron. After a few seconds the lights return, camera scans the crowd who are on their feet, cheering as the show’s prelude has them wired up. Finally it settles on the announcing duo of Mark Stevens and Bobby Riley.

Stevens: “Welcome ladies and gentleman from around the world… it is time for S-W-F STOOOOOOORRRM!!! I’m Mark Stevens, and alongside me is my broadcasting colleague…”

Riley: “-Bobby Riley!”

Stevens: “Yes. What a show we have in store for you, after one of the most controversial Pay Per Views of all time!”

Riley: “Controversial!? It was the greatest! I mean, the Magnificent Seven won the Wargames, the match that the Carnival challenged them to! Brilliant!”

Stevens: “What a show it was, and you can order our encore which airs this Saturday night!”

Riley: “But tonight we got one hell of a card topped with one hell of a Main Event!”

Stevens: “Commissioner McWeed has signed a four way elimination match for the number one contendership… our card will be up in a second… but the winner, along with Thoth, will compete against Edwin MacPhisto for the Heavyweight title at a later date!”

Riley: “This match will be all Wilson, Breggan, or Fallout… that little Taylor shit will die… and probably Fallout too, because he likes that Thoth bitch… and we all know how large of a bitch he is now!”

Stevens: “It’s time to prepare for our first match. Matthew Kivell is in the ring, ready to judge. Here’s the card folks.”

…

BOOM

…

An explosion hits the ramp, a ball of fire igniting at the ramp. Fireworks explode around the ramp, and high up in the rafters. Each one leaving sparks and smoke.

“THIS

IS

MAH

HOUSE!!!”

Jay Dawg’s voice thunders over the speakers triggering the full heavy beat of “Du Haste” by Rammstein, excluding the lyrics. Moments later, Jay Dawg explodes through the curtains, his hair dangling in front of him, instead of tied up. His hardcore title hanging from his hand, he walks down the ramp, looking straight into the ring, but checking over his shoulder every couple of moments.

Stevens: “Wait a minute. What’s he doing out here?”

Riley: “He has some business to handle!”

JD tosses the title into the ring, then slides under the rope himself. Leaving the title flat in the center, he heads to the far ropes, and requests a microphone. Funyon tosses him his, and JD quickly brings it to his mouth. He pauses as the crowd starts to boo his presence. But doesn’t stay silent for long, as he has a mission to accomplish.

Jamie: “Yo shut the fuck up! I have something to say!”

The audience doesn’t listen, as they continue to boo even louder.

Jamie: “You know! I have a few things to say actually! First of all, Kivell, stay out here, there’s about to be a hardcore title match and I’m going to need a ref!”

Stevens: “What is Jay Dawg talking about, he’s already booked tonight!”

Jamie: “That’s not the first thing I want to address though. You see last week, I kicked Annie in the head until she was unconscious. Now some say that was bad… WELL WHAT WOULD YOU DO!!? This bitch stole my girlfriend! Someone I trusted my life to! Someone I was with for over a year! Now it seems like I have angered the X-Force-Nine! Well Good! Those sons of bitches deserved to get their asses kicked!”

The audience responds negative to their opinion, of the Carnival junior. The group no one really hates, but everyone loves, for one reason or another.

Stevens: “Jay Dawg certainly isn’t making any friends!”

Riley: “He doesn’t need friends! He has Creative Control, the ultimate power!”

Jamie: “I mean, first I hurt Ash Ketchum. Big fucking deal. The guy has a fucking pokemon gimmick!? I mean… what the fuck!? Then I take out that fucking lesbian, and believe me, I’ll hurt her again if it means I get to see Molly! I have some business with her too. Tonight I have Renegade? Fuck. What did you do to XF9? Kick their ass in all the video games? Because fuck… even I feel bad for what I’m going to do to you… ok… I won’t.”

Stevens: “Alright now? How many enemies is Jay Dawg trying to make!?”

Riley: “As many as deemed necessary!”

Jamie: “Bah… fuck the X-Club-9. If you guys get in Creative Control’s way or mine you’ll get hurt. I have bigger fish to fry. In fact, he is the biggest fish to fry!”

The crowd silences, waiting for JD to say the name.

Jamie: “The H-Ville Thugg! Now Thugg… I know you are watching this. I also bet you want a piece of me. Well guess what you fat fuck. Here I am!”

Riley: “What courageousness by Jay Dawg! He’s challenging perhaps the most dominating and greatest champion of all time!”

Stevens: “Maybe because Thugg isn’t around and hasn’t recovered!”

Jamie: “Come on Thugg! I know you can see this! I know you can contact this league! I WANT A PIECE OF YOU!! In fact, I will put up my hardcore title. Come on Thugg, it’ll be fun, we can scrap so I can beat yo ass, just like the old days. Hey Thugg, remember that?”

Riley: “Ha ha! Jay Dawg has never lost to Thugg! Come to think of it, no one in Creative Control has!”

Jamie: “Thugg! I want an answer! You have Five minutes… or…”

JD reaches to his side, and grabs Matt Kivell by the back of the neck.

Jamie: “Or I am going to have a hardcore title match with Kivell here! Yeah, that sounds like fun, doesn’t it Matty?”

Stevens: “What the hell is wrong with Jay Dawg!?”

Riley: “What are you talking about? I hate that Kivell bugger anyway! Thugg should show some compassion and drag his fatass out here, to save Kivell!”

Jamie: “Now don’t think for one second that Kivell is innocent. Are you Matty? You remember about yay… 10 days ago, don’t you Matt?”

JD suddenly opens his eyes, and with a menacing stare, looks straight at a frightened Kivell. The referee struggles but Jay Dawg’s grip is iron tight.

Jamie: “Yah. I remember it just fine. My boy Lerrin had a WF title shot. I was the ref. He was winning 9-0… shame on you Matthew. You ruined it. You decreed that Lerrin was unable to fight, I could have done that many times with Edwin, but I didn’t. I counted fairly.”

Stevens: “Bullshit!”

Jamie: “Yeah… I think it’s safe to say Mr. Kivell… That you screwed us. Yeah… not a wise thing to do.”

JD has a grin on his face, barely masking the anger beneath him. The crowd continues to boo, as JD waits on for Thugg and bullies the senior referee.

Jamie: “Yeah, I bet I could snap you like a twig. Which is why I’m going to give you a chance. If you get down on your knees, and beg for Thugg to get out here, and he replies, I’ll let you go.”

JD forces Kivell to his knees, placing the mic before him.

Kivell: “Uhh… uhh.”

JD brings the mic back up.

Jamie: “BEG YOU PIECE OF SHIT!!! Before I kick your teeth down your fucking throat!”

Kivell: “Thugg… please.”

Stevens: “This is sick! Kivell was just doing his job!”

Riley: “Well why don’t you do something about it, or anyone in the back for that matter!?”

Stevens: “Because Jay Dawg can’t be touched… dammit!”

Kivell: “Thugg… please. Come here, JD has lost it. He’s going t…”

-JD yanks Kivell off his knees and holds him in place, bringing the mic back to himself.

Jamie: “Alright, alright, alright you little shit. Enough groveling. I have no need to listen to you beg. Let’s see Thugg. You have about a minute left. What’s it gonna be? I want you out here now! Before I break him in two, like I did to you!”

The odd bit of booing, the crowd has really lost their words.

Jamie: “THUGG!!! COME ON YOU SON OF A BITCH!!! I WILL PUT UP MY HARDCORE TITLE TO FIGHT YOU!!! SOMETHING YOU NEVER WON!!!”

The anger in JD is evident, as his face shows signs of redness.

Jamie: “You know something fuck it. You should have answered.”

JD pulls Kivell into him, and flattens him with a shortarm clothesline! Kivell hits the mat hard and holds the back of his head. JD pulls him back up, holding him by the ears, he thrusts his forehead with a headbutt! Blood spurts out of the nose and begins to rush all over his referee outfit.

Stevens: “That son of a bitch just broke the nose of Matthew Kivell!”

Riley: “I think that’s the least of his worries, look!”

JD is overtop of the shoulders of Kivell, holding him by the jaw, he instantly starts up the punches. A flurry of lefts and rights, forcibly move the limp head of Kivell. JD picks up the mic, and at the same time, pulls the unconscious and bloody Kivell into a standing headscissors.

Jamie: “Thugg! This is on your head!”

JD crosses the arms of Kivell over the throat, leaps high in the air and with major impact, and drives the face of Kivell into the mat. JD calmly stands up, and places his foot over the head of Dead Matty.

Jamie: “Matthew Kivell. For screwing over the stipulations of the Creative Control… Consider yourself, by the orders of Commissioner McWeed… FIRED!!!”

JD slams the mic down into the back of Kivell’s head, and gives him one final kick to the ribs.

Stevens: “What the hell!? Jay Dawg has just fired Kivell? How in the hell?”

Riley: “Who cares, no one liked him anyway! I think it just goes to show, that Creative Control will not tolerate the breaking of the rules!”

Stevens: “Jay Dawg is going to have another lawsuit coming his way, I just know it!”

Riley: “Bah! He’s already involved in like 12 sexual harassment charges, and not to mention that bar incident from last week!”

Stevens: “Whatever. Here’s the card people. I don’t like how this show has started.”

Riley: “Fortunately your opinion doesn’t matter!”

August 3, 2002

The Card

SINGLES MATCH

Danny Williams vs. Xero

- Danny Williams requested this somewhat odd match-up. What could William’s motive be for challenging Xero?

TAG TEAM MATCH

Longdogger Pete & Tod deKindes vs. The Boston Strangler & Frost

- Longdogger Pete and Tod deKindes cost Strangler the ICTV title…plain and simple. This Friday Strangler wants to get some tag team revenge and his chances look good as he’s teamed with Frost, who’s been very successful in tag matches since arriving in the SWF.

SINGLES MATCH

Ced Ordonez vs. Mercury

- Mercury appears to have gotten some motivation and crossed over to the dark side, but what does this mean for everyone’s favourite face-ish curtain jerking tag team?! Ced will try and beat some answers out of Mercury on Storm!

SINGLES MATCH

Sacred vs. Annie Eclectic

- These two both made their returns at Ground Zero and Sacred interfered in Annie’s match against Jay Dawg. Shockingly Annie wasn’t overly pleased with what Sacred did and challenged him to this match.

NON-TITLE, NO-DQ SINGLES MATCH

Jay Dawg vs. Renegade

- Dawg has had problems with X force 9 lately and will take on their newest member, Renegade, this Friday.

SINGLES MATCH

Silent vs. Chris Raynor

- Silent’s debut in the SWF came at Ground Zero and while his stable is allied with the Carnival, he definitely has issues with the their leader Edwin MacPhisto. Edwin’s close friend Chris Raynor will test this potential threat on Storm.

4-MAN ELIMINATION LUMBERJACK MATCH FOR THE SWF HEAVYWEIGHT TITLE #1 CONTENDERSHIP

Chris Wilson vs. Erek Taylor vs. Lerrin Breggan vs. Fallout

Lumberjacks – Outcast, The Boston Strangler, Tod deKindes, Annie Eclectic, Jay Dawg, Sacred, Thoth and Spider Nekura.

- The commish getting sick of the heavyweight championship being in Carnie hands and will attempt to determine a #1 contender by pitting 4 of the top wrestlers from 4 of the SWF’s stables against each other. The winner of this match will join Thoth in a 3-way match on an upcoming episode of Storm.

August 3, 2002

Commissioner Stubby P. McWeed sits at his desk, grinning up at the ring monitors and laughing as Jay Dawg, hardcore champion and Creative Control mainstay, kicks the crap out of Matty Kivell. The creak of a door breaks his focus…

“Stubby, what in the bloody hell is going on here?”

The commish looks up to see a very angry, very tall, very British world champion stomping right up to the edge of his desk. Stubby rolls his eyes and diddles away at a few papers. “What the hell do you want, MacPhisto?”

“I,” shouts Edwin, slapping the pen out of Stubby’s hand, “want to know who the hell authorized Silent’s promotion! I had nothing to say about this! Axis had nothing to say about this! I told you, Stubby—I told you a thousand times!” Edwin’s eyes are bugging out of his head at this point, as he bends over McWeed’s desk and grabs him by his lapels. “I told you: NEVER, under any circumstances, do you bump Silent to the SWF! How hard is it to remember that? One little fact!”

“Back the fuck off, champ!” snaps Stubby, shoving Edwin off with surprising force. “I may be retired but I can still kick your ass! And shouldn’t you be worrying about Wilson now anyway?”

“I’ve had enough Chris Wilson for this week, Stubby. I’ll worry about him if he wins the title shot tonight. Now,” says Edwin, brushing himself off and leaning on the desk with both palms, “tell me about Silent!”

“You know what? I make the fricking decisions around here! I’m in charge! Not you, MacPhisto! We needed more wrestlers up here, and you weren’t giving me shit from the JL, so I picked Silent--”

“I gave you Renegade!”

“Renegade’s one guy! I wanted two! Plain and simple--”

“That’s bull, Stubby, and you know it!” cries Edwin, pounding his fist down on the desk. “You got six wrestlers last month! We’ve got no shortage of talent! Have you even WATCHED one of Silent’s matches? He’s nearly crippled his last three opponents--”

“Sounds like someone I know,” snaps Stubby coldly. Edwin pauses.

“Stubby, you don’t know--”

“No, I DO know, MacPhisto! You almost fucking killed Breggan a week and a half ago—hell, you almost killed JD, and he was the fucking referee!”

“They were cheating--”

“That’s no excuse! I can’t have my world champion going around breaking people’s necks! Personally I don’t give two shits about you or Silent, but if him being up here reigns you in, then hey, fucking great!”

“Just keep him away from me, Stubby. I don’t want a part of him—let him do his thing, and keep him out of my business. I don’t want him in the ring, I don’t want him out of the ring.”

“Fine,” mutters Stubby, scribbling something down on his papers. “Normally I’d let him have a shot at you right here tonight…but since you’re such a persuasive little bitch…ehh…I’ll give him Raynor instead.”

“WHAT?” Edwin’s jaw drops!

“If you’re not gonna fight him,” smirks Stubby, “then we’ll get your buddy to do it! Tag champs stick together, right?” The level of cloying mockery in Stubby’s voice is off-the-charts.

“You can’t do this, Stubby! The Magnificent Seven—they nearly tore Raynor’s arm out of the socket at Wargames! They just about broke his ribs!”

“Well,” grins Stubby, leaning back in his ratty old chair and taking a sip of coffee, “then we’ll just have to let Silent finish the job.”

“You bastard—I’m not gonna let you throw people to the bloody wolves like this--”

“Edwin!” shouts Stubby, slamming down his coffee cup. “Cut the crap! Cut the hero bullshit! You got your ass handed to you at Wargames. You’ve got a world title defense on next Storm. You get your damn head in the right place, or I will feel no remorse when I watch Lerrin Breggan, or Fallout, or Thoth grind you into paste and take your title away.”

And the Mac Daddy backs off, Stubby’s words resonating for a moment. “Thoth,” he whispers. “That’s it.”

And in a flash, world champion Edwin MacPhisto turns on his heel and disappears out the door, leaving it swinging open behind him, clattering against the old wood frame. Stubby P. McWeed takes a sip from his coffee, shaking his head.

“Good riddance.”

August 3, 2002

Stevens: Welcome to SWF Storm! Tonight we have a great card lined up, but our first match of the evening is already getting underway!

Riley: So shut your big mouth, and let Funyon do his job!

Funyon: The following match is scheduled for one fall and has a fifteen minute time limit. Introducing first, he hails from Ontario, Canada. Weighing at 199 pounds......XEROOOOOO!

The lights are pitch black as you hear the intro of "Master of Puppets" by Metallica. After a few seconds, the music fades to black. Suddenly the chorus starts to play and the words are heard "OBEY YOUR MASTER!" At that point, Xero emerges from the dark, as "Master of Puppets" is being played again. Red fireworks explode from each side, as Xero heads down towards the ring.

Funyon: And his opponent. He hails from Louisville, Kentucky. Weighing in at 239 pounds......DANNY WILLIAMSSSSSSSS!

The rhythmic guitar blasts of Dillinger Escape Plan's "Calculating Infinity" blasts over the loud speaker. The smarktron simply says Danny Williams in white letters and follows that with highlights of Danny's career in the SJL. Danny emerges from the locker room, and steps out on to the platform. Danny anxiously jogs to the ring eager for his chance to prove himself.

Stevens: Xero has got to be favorite tonight. He has far more experience in the SWF, and has that HUUUUUUUUUUGE speed advantage over Williams.

Riley: Are you kidding? These two aren’t even in the same weight class. Xero is going to get murdered.

DING! DING! DING! Both men step out of their corners, and lock up in a collar elbow tieup in the center of the ring. Williams breaks the grapple, and backs Xero into the ropes with two hard elbows! Williams shots Xero off the ropes with an Irishwhip, and takes position in the center of the ring. Xero bounces back off the ropes, and Williams extends his arm for a clothesline as he comes by! But Xero ducks and bounces off the ropes behind Williams! Williams spins around, but he’s too late! Xero nails Williams right in the mouth with a Spinning Heel Kick!

Stevens: Williams made a big mistake in giving the faster man an Irishwhip, he should be trying to keep the match at a much slower tempo.

Williams checks his mouth for blood, and rolls out of the ring to regroup. Xero doesn’t give him a chance, and springboards over the top rope at a surprised Williams! Xero does a beautiful Corkscrew in midair, as he nails Williams with a Flying Cross Bodypress! Camera’s flash, and the fans actually applaud Xero’s dazzling athletic display.

Stevens: WOW! Did you see that?

Riley: Now what was the point of the Corkscrew, a normal Cross Bodypress would do the same amount of damage.

Xero gets to his feet, and rolls back into the ring. Kivell starts counting out Williams “One! Two! Three! Four! Five!....”. Williams gets up, holding his ribs, and slides back into the ring. Xero lets him in without any trouble. Williams and Xero step back up in the center of the ring, and lock up again. Williams easily gains the advantage with a side headlock. “Huuuuuu!” growls Williams as he tightens his grip around Xero’s head.

Riley: Great strategy by Williams. Control the tempo and slow things down. He doesn’t want let Xero to run away with this thing.

Xero calmly walks Williams to the ropes, and shoots him off! But Williams manages to keep the headlock applied, and just drags Xero down to his knees! Williams raises to one knee for leverage, and starts grinding away on Xero’s neck. Williams has already broken a heavy sweat, from the strain of keeping Xero in the hold. Xero pushes his way back to a vertical base, and starts throwing elbows into Williams’ gut. “Umph!” spits out Williams as he has the wind knocked out of him from a Xero elbows! Williams twists his hips to take Xero back to the mat with a side headlock takedown! But Xero slips out and locks his arms around Williams waist in a back waistlock! Xero bends his knees, and hoists Williams off the mat with a mighty heave!

Riley: Xero looking for the GERMAN SUPLEX!

Stevens: Edwin managed to knock Williams out with a series of German Suplexes in Wargames. And if it worked at Wargames, it can work here tonight.

But Williams wraps his leg around Xero’s, and blocks the German Suplex! Williams plants his

boots back on the mat and pries Xero’s fingers apart! Williams reverses the back waistlock to a wristlock, and quickly switches right back to a side headlock!

Stevens: NO! Williams reverses right back to the Headlock!

Riley: Ha! All that fancy reversing and Xero ends up right back where he started.

Williams’ biceps twitch as he tightens the hold once more around Xero’s neck! The sudden surge of pain is so intense that it forces Xero to drop to his knees. Williams is just pouring sweat as he works the headlock for all it’s worth. “GAAAAHHHHHH!” cries Xero as he uses all the strength of his athletic legs, to power his way back to his feet. But Williams takes him right back to the mat with a sudden Headlock Takedown! Kivell notices Xero’s shoulders are down, and starts the count.

ONE!

TWO!

Realizing his error, Xero quickly raises his shoulder up! With Xero on his back, Williams starts pulling up on Xero’s head in a attempt to rip his head off! “HERRRRRRR!” growls Xero as he manages to get his hands around Williams’ arms. Xero plants his hands underneath Williams’ chin, and starts pushing his head back with all the power of his boney arms. Xero brings his legs around, and finally pulls Williams off with a Head Scissors! But Williams easily escapes with a kip up! Xero is slow to get up, allowing Williams to quickly get behind him and lock on a Abdominal Stretch! Williams modifies the hold, and locks his hands around Xero’s face.

Stevens: Xero finally escaped the headlock, but he was to drained to do anything, allowing Williams to lock on that modified Abdominal Stretch. This must be Williams’ strategy, wear Xero down with the headlocks and force him to operate at a slower pace.

Riley: An Abdominal Neck Wrench to be more exact. This allows Williams to put even more pressure on Xero’s neck and head. More of a modified sleeper than a modified Abdominal Stretch.

Xero starts inching his way to the ropes. Williams struggles to keep the hold applied while moving, but he can’t keep his leg locked around Xero’s. In a matter of seconds, Xero makes it to the ropes. However, Xero doesn’t wait for Kivell, and uses his superior leverage in the position to hiptoss Williams off! Williams flies through the second ropes, and lands on the floor! A drowsy Xero staggers away, holding his neck and wincing. Back on the outside, Williams pops right back up, and rolls right into the ring. Williams sneaks up behind Xero, and bashes the side of his neck with two quick elbows! Xero is stunned, and Williams snaps on a Sleeper Hold! Xero reaches out for the ropes, but Williams pulls him down to the mat and locks on body scissors for the Rear Naked Chokehold!

Riley: This is just amazing! Williams has wore Xero down to the point that he cannot get any offense in. Now he’s going to try to finish Xero off with that modified Sleeperhold!

Stevens: More like a modified chokehold.

Riley: Bah, If it was illegal than Kivell would call it.

Xero’s face turns purple, and his eyes roll up in his head as Williams cuts off the air and blood flow to his head! Williams is squeezing Xero’s head so hard, his arms look like their going to explode from strain. “Just Quit Xero! Go to Sleep!” shouts Williams at the top of his lungs, as Xero fights to stay awake. Than an odd thing happens, the crowd actually starts cheering for Xero. “XE-RO!” BOOM! BOOM! “XE-RO!”

Stevens: Wow it seems that the fans are actually supporting Xero.

Riley: Oh so he has to get his ass kicked in order to finally get crowd support, typical red neck fans.

The chant is no use as Xero quits trying to fight out of the hold, and his arms drop lifelessly to the mat. Kivell bends down, and lifts Xero’s arm up. Kivell releases it, and it drops right back to the mat. Kivell raises one finger to the audience, and than raises Xero’s arm back up. Kivell releases his lifeless hand, and it drops back to the mat. Kivell raises two fingers to the crowd, and gets read to complete the ritual third arm raising. Suddenly, Williams releases the Chokehold and jumps to his feet before Kivell can complete the arm test.

Stevens: What’s Williams doing, he could have had the win.

Riley: You idiot! Williams knows Xero is about out, so he’s going to take the opportunity to try to put him away with a big move.

Williams jerks the drowsy Xero up, and pushes him down into a standing head scissors. Williams locks his arms around Xero’s waist, bends his knees, and hoists the junior off the mat with ease!

Riley: DEATHBOOOOOMB!

Williams raises Xero on his shoulder, but Xero locks his legs around Williams head and plants his hands on the mat!

Stevens: NO! Xero is going to reverse it! HURRICANRANAAAAAA!

Xero flips forward, ripping Williams boots off the mat, and slamming his back into the mat! Williams climbs back to his feet, a little winded from the slam. However Xero isn’t up yet, he’s moving in slow mode like he just got up in the morning. Williams sneaks up behind him, and snaps on yet another Sleeperhold! The crowd nearly blows the roof off the building with “boos”. But Xero slips out, and locks a back waistlock on Williams!

Stevens: XERO’S GOING FOR THE GERMAN!

But Williams drives two hard back elbows into Xero’s temple, forcing him to release the waistlock! Xero is dazed, and Williams immediately spins around for the Rolling Elbow!

Riley: NO! HE ESCAPED! ROLLING ELBOOOOOW!

But Xero ducks, and locks Williams in another back waistlock!

Stevens: XERO DUCKED IT! GERMAN SUPLEX!

Before Williams can do anything, Xero snaps back and tosses Williams high overhead! Williams lands right on the top of his head, and bounces back to his feet! With glazed over eyes, Williams wobbles around like a drunk. With what control over his lower body he left, Williams starts back paddling to the ropes. He manages to take a few steps backwards before his legs give out, and he collapses to the mat. Williams quickly rolls out of the ring, to the safety of the floor. Xero kneels on the mat, slapping himself in an attempt to wake himself up.

Stevens: WILLIAMS IS HURT! He has know chose but to roll out of the ring to avoid a pinfall.

Riley: Yeah, but look! Xero is still drowsy to string together an offense. It looks like Williams early head work is really paying off.

Stevens: Someone get that man some coffee!

Kivell starts counting out Williams, who is on his back, blankly staring up at the arena lights. “ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR! FIVE!” Williams mechanically sits up and climbs back to his feet like a programed robot. Xero notices Williams climbing on to the apron, and stands up. Blinking rapidly like the light hurts his eyes, Xero catches Williams as he stands up on the apron. Xero locks the dazed Williams in a front facelock, and lifts him over the ropes for the Vertical Supelx!

Stevens: And Xero brings Williams back in with a Vertical Suplex!.

But an exhausted Xero drops Williams, and he lands on his feet behind him. Acting on instinct, Williams tries to lock Xero in a back waistlock!

Riley: NO! Xero was too weak to hold him! GERMAN SUPLEX COMING UP!

But Xero spins out of it, and locks a back waistlock on Williams! Williams reaches out his arms for the ropes, but Xero snaps back!

Stevens: ANOTHER GERMAN SUPLEX FROM XERO!

Xero holds bridge for the pin. The crowd screams along with Kivell.

ONE!

TWO!

Williams raises his arm up, but it drops back to the mat. Kivell pauses and starts the count over.

ONE!

TWO!

Williams raises his arm up yet again, and this time keeps it raised high in the air. Xero’s weary legs finally give out, freeing Williams! Xero pulls himself up with the ropes, and with their assistance walks to a corner. Xero starts gently ramming his own head into the turnbuckles.

Riley: Look at that! Xero couldn’t pin Williams so he completely lost his mind. What a nut job.

Stevens: Actually I would say Xero is trying to wake himself up.

Williams starts to show signs of life and Xero gets in a superkick stance to the delight of the fans. As soon as Williams climbs back to his feet, Xero shoots out of the corner and fires the Superkick! CRACK! Xero’s boot connects right with Williams’ chin, knocking him to the mat. Xero almost loses his balance, after throwing the kick but manages to stay on his feet. Williams is laid flat out on his back, but Xero doesn’t go for the pin. Xero points to the top turnbuckle, and signals it’s all over.

Stevens: Uh oh, it looks like it’s time for ABSOLUTE XEROOOOOO!

Riley: Oh it’s just a Shooting Star Press, everyone and their grandpa does that move now days.

An off balance Xero carefully steps on to the apron, and starts climbing the turnbuckles of the nearest corner. Xero reaches the second turnbuckle, and dowses off! His body goes limp and begins to fall off, but he snaps back to life and catches himself.

Riley: Xero is dozing on and off like he’s in a high school science class.

Xero lets out a shocked gasp, and continues climbing up the turnbuckles. Xero reaches the top turnbuckle, and balances himself on the top rope. “Whooooooa!” cries Xero as he loses his balance, and almost falls off the top rope. Xero. Xero briefly regains his balance long enough, to leap off the top rope. Cameras flash as Xero executes a beautiful front flip in mid air!

Stevens: ABSOLUTE XEROOOOOOOOO!

Riley: You must really like saying that.

BOOM! Xero lands face first on the mat, where Williams was laying! Williams rolls over to the other side of the ring, and pulls himself up with the ropes.

Stevens: OUCH! XERO MISSED! No doubt if he would have connected with the it would have all been over with.

Riley: Once again Williams ingenious plan saves the day! If Xero would have been his usual faster than light self, than there’s no way Williams would have had time to roll out of the way.

Williams starts motioning for Xero to get up, as the crowd gets on their feet. Williams face wrinkles with rage, and he charges at full speed. CRACK! Williams blasts Xero with a running Elbow as he stands up! Xero collapses lifelessly to the mat, and Williams hooks his leg for the pin. The crowd “boos” as Kivell counts.

ONE!

TWO!

THR

NO! Xero raises his shoulder up! The crowd’s jeers morph into applause. Williams doesn’t let the near fall bother him, and traps Xero in a front facelock. Both men are on their knees, and Williams tightens the hold to choke Xero out! Xero starts spitting and coughing. Kivell notices it’s a choke and warns Williams to “Cut the crap”. Williams loosens the hold, and jerks Xero up to his feet. Williams drapes Xero’s arm over his shoulder and grabs a handful of this tights.

Riley: DEATHDRIVAAAAAH! If he can connect with this, poor Xero will be spending the night in the hospital!

Williams takes several deep breaths and with his usual “IEEEEEEEEEEEE” hoists Xero up. Xero desperately locks his leg around Williams to block the lift attempt, and starts driving his fist into Williams’ stomach. After knocking the breath out of Williams, Xero sets Williams back up for the Suplex and hooks his leg.

Stevens: XERO GRAVITY! XERO GRAVITY!

But before Xero can lift Williams off the mat, Williams starts ramming his fist into Xero’s stomach. Xero releases Williams’ leg, only to be hoisted off the mat!

Riley: NOW WILLIAMS HAS HIM! DEATHDRIVAAAAAH!

But Xero blocks it again, and rolls Williams up with an Inside Cradle!

Stevens: NO! XERO REVERES TO A CRADLE! THIS COULD BE IT!

The crowd screams along with Kivell’s count at the top of their lungs.

ONE!

TWO!

No, Xero’s can’t hold the cradle! Both men scramble to their feet, but Xero is up first! POP! POP! Xero busts Williams ribs with two hard Roundhouse Kicks! Williams doubles over, and Xero grabs a front facelock!

Stevens: PURGATOOOOOOORY!

Xero falls back, but Williams remains on his feet!

Riley: NO! Xero doesn’t have the strength to pull lit off!

Realizing his mistake Xero rushes back to his feet! CRACK! Williams nails Xero with a well timed Rolling Elbow as he gets up!

Riley: ROLLING ELBOOOOW! IT’S OVER!

Xero crumbles to the mat, and Williams hooks his leg for the pin.

ONE!

TWO!

THRE

NO! Xero raises his shoulder up! Williams jumps to his feet, and signals “it’s over”. Xero tries to stand up on his own, but he collapses back to the mat. Williams traps the kneeling Xero in a standing head scissors, and wraps his arms around his waist.

Riley: Williams setting Xero up for THE DEATHBOMB!

But Xero takes Williams to the mat with a double leg takedown, and rolls to the ropes. An annoyed Williams gets right back up, and stalks Xero as he tries to pull himself up with the ropes. THUMP! THUMP! Williams drives his boot into Xero’s back as he tries to get up, and jerks him off the rope! Williams tucks his head underneath Xero’s armpit, and hoists him into the air.

Riley: BACKDROP DRIVAHHH!

But Xero drives some elbows into Williams neck, and plants his feet back on the mat! Williams tries to hoist Xero off the mat again, but he blocks the attempt with his leg! However, Williams continues to try lift Xero off the mat anyway and a battle of wills follows!

Riley: Xero holding on for dear life! Cause if Williams hits that Backdrop Driver, it’s curtains!

Funyon: One minute remains in the match.

Stevens: ONE MINUTE! Xero has one minute to avoid getting dropped on his head by the Backdrop Driver! CAN HE HANG ON!

Riley: COME ON WILLIAMS! Lift that skinny fart off up!

There isn’t a person in the crowd that isn’t on their feet, anxious to see what’s going to happen in the following sixty seconds. The crowd starts chanting “B-D-D!” as Williams keeps on trying to overpower Xero and hit his signature move!

Stevens: It appears the fans are now cheering for Williams?

Riley: No! They are chanting BDD for Backdrop Driver. They just want to see that move, they could care less who’s doing it. Especially if it’s being done to somebody like Xero who the fans already dislike in general.

“GAAHHHHHH” growls Williams as he rips Xero off the mat, despite Xero’s text book block attempt with his leg!

Riley: HE GOT HIM UP! BACKDROP DRIVAHH!

Williams falls back, but Xero shifts his weight, landing on top of Williams with a lateral press! The crowd once again screams along with Kivell.

ONE!

TWO!

THREE!

No! With an almost amateur wrestling maneuver, Williams slips out from underneath Xero and locks on a back waistlock! Williams powers Xero up to his feet, and bends his knees for a lift attempt!

Stevens: Williams is going for the DANGEROUS GERMAN!

Xero reaches out his arms for the ropes, but Williams snaps back and tosses him high overhead! The crowd gives a huge pop, as Xero lands grotesquely on his neck and shoulders!

Riley: HE HIT! HE HIT! JUST COVER HIM, WILLIAMS! YOU GOT IT!

Funyon: 30 seconds left in the match up.

Williams crawls over to Xero and hooks his legs for the pin.

ONE!

TWO!

THREE!

No! Xero lifts his shoulder up!

Stevens: XERO SOMEHOW STILL CONSCIOUS! ALL HE HAS TO DO IS HOLD ON FOR LESS THAN THIRTY SECONDS!

Riley: You know your screwed, when the best thing you can hope for is a draw.

Williams frantically gets to his feet, and struggles to lift a limp Xero up into a standing headscissors. After blowing a good ten seconds, Williams manages to set Xero up, and trap his head in the elusive standing head scissors!

Stevens: EIGHTEEN SECONDS LEFT!

Riley: COME ON WILLIAMS! LIFT! LIFT! LIFT!

Williams pulls Xero up by his tights, and locks his arms around waist! Williams bends his knees for the lift, and cries “IEEEEEEEE!” But Xero drops to his knees, Williams bends down with him, in an attempt to lift him up from there! The crowd starts counting down!

TEN!

Williams starts taking several deep breaths.

NINE!

Williams bends his knees so low to the ground with Xero, that they are actually gracing the mat.

EIGHT!

“AAAAAAAHHHHHH!” screams Williams as he rips Xero’s knees off the mat, but he stalls leaving Xero dangling just above his waist! Williams’ eyes look like they are going to pop from strain.

SEVEN!

With an “EEEEERRRRR” Williams slowly pulls Xero the rest of the way up! However he lifts Xero on to only one shoulder.

Stevens: DEATHBOMB V.01! HE’S GOING FOR DEATHBOMB V.01!"

SIX!

Riley: NO ONE CAN KICK OUT OF THAT! And Williams has plenty of time to hold for the pin.

Williams lets Xero dangle down in front, and prepares to drop to one knee!

FIVE!

Xero starts kicking his legs rapidly, and manages to roll through behind Williams!

FOUR!

Stevens: XERO ESCAPED!

Riley: AH CRAP!

With what energy he has left, Xero rolls up the confused Williams with a School Boy! Xero shifts his entire upper body over Williams’ legs to hold him down.

Stevens: SCHOOL BOY! SCHOOL BOY! WILLIAMS HAS BEEN PINNED WITH THIS MOVE BEFORE!

Riley: NOOOOOOOOO! THERE SHOULDN’T BE ENOUGH TIME LEFT!

The crowd ignores the match clock, and starts counting along with Kivell.

ONE!

TWO!

THREE!(time keeper buzzer goes off at the same time!)

DING! DING! DING!

Riley: What the hell just happened!

Stevens: I.......don’t know, will have to wait from the official word. It looks like Xero pinned him with the school boy. Man, did Xero really do his homework on Danny. He remembered how easily Edwin knocked him out with German Suplexes at War Games, and that the last time Williams was pinned cleanly in a singles match was by Sydney Sky with a school boy.

Riley: What about the Thoth match?

Stevens: Williams did claim to have an eye infection that night. And to be honest I believe him, how else could he miss all those blind charges.

Riley: Maybe that’s why their called blind charges, dumbass.

There is a mixed reaction from the fans, who are confused as to why Funyon hasn’t announced the winner. Xero releases Williams, and both men jump to their feet and start arguing with Kivell. Kivell hesitates to raise Xero’s arm, and the time keeper enters the ring.

Riley: Kivell dropped his hand for a third time, so shouldn’t the officials call stand.

Stevens: Yeah, but Kivell can overturn his own decision if he feels he made a mistake.

The time keeper and Kivell have a discussion out of ear reach of the two confused wrestlers. Kivell agrees with whatever the time keeper says, and tells Funyon to make the announcement.

Funyon: The time limit has expired, the match is ruled a no contest.

The fans explode into a monstrous growl of “boos” and jeers. Xero grabs Kivell by his shirt, and starts screaming in his face. Williams briefs a sigh of relief, which turns into disgust at the realization that he was saved by the time limit.

Riley: What a bunch of bullshi....

Stevens: Riley, watch your mouth! Besides I thought you wanted Williams to win anyway.

Riley: Hey just because you play favorites, doesn’t mean I have to. May the best man win, and the best man was Xero.

Stevens: Well neither man has anything to be ashamed of after this match. Williams had a brilliant game plan that Xero on the defense most of the match. However Xero gave one of the greatest defensive performances I’ve ever witnessed. Up until those final two minutes he managed to avoid every single one of Williams’ knockout moves. An amazing feat considering the men have never stepped in the ring together.

Xero gives up on convincing Kivell to overturn the call, and notices Williams almost in tears. Xero gives the this close signal with a smirk, and than to the surprise of everyone extends his hand to Williams for a respectful shake. A surprised Williams shakes his head, mumbles “Good Match” and climbs out of the ring. The crowd doesn’t know what to make of it, and gives a mixed reaction.

Riley: What was that about?

Stevens: Only time will tell, don’t go anywhere fans we’ll be right back.

August 3, 2002

“What the hell is going on?”

Thoth whizzes through the corridors of the backstage arena, the mysteries of the labyrinth crumbling before his fiery will. The fire in question seems to emanate from his eyes, from his fists, and from his legs, which pump madly as he turns corners with dizzying voracity. He turns to look from person to person, trying to find he whom he seeks... but that is a vain sort of search. He knows where he’s headed, and he knows the person he wants to find is in the room he wants to find.

“Oh, when I get my hands on you, you are going to feel every ounce of despair, rage, envy, mistrust...” Thoth stops talking as he runs out of negative emotions to list, his hbrain focused on other things.

WarGames didn’t go as planned... did it have a plan? I’m so used to doing things with a plan, the way I always did... the Clan way. We always have a plan... and a backup plan... and if the situation is grand enough, a second backup plan. But this time, it was just me. Well, me and the Carnival. Ugh, I still remember that prank they played on us. That one time, in the tech booth. ‘Everybody dance now!’ Oh Gods get it out of my head.

He turns another corner, and is presented with a straight corridor, with a dead end, and one door.

Why did Silent show up? But he was there... a year of waiting. And now it’s come to this. I’m not sure exactly why you left Edwin standing, but I think I know why you left me. But I want to make sure. So I want some answers... and I’m going to get them!

Thoth opens the door, and steps through.

August 3, 2002

Stevens: Tag team action, coming up!!

***Deep inside the Sovereign Band Arena in Z's home state of New Jersey, we go backstage in a hallway, outside the XF9's dressing room we see Pete WALKING, as he crosses the door marked with the famous logo, headed most likely towards the Gorilla position. He turns his head from side to side, seemingly searching for someone. He can't help muttering to himself…***

Pete: Where the hell is he?…Always gotta be by himself…

***Pete needs to search no further, as he rounds a corner, noticing his fellow stablemate and tag partner for the night; as he's once again next to the scaffolding used for the interview area, doing what is surely mental preparation…as he's hanging by his feet upside down. Pete furrows his brow at the unusual sight, but nonetheless…***

Pete:…Showtime, kid, we're up.

***Pete watches as Tod raises up to the bar to grab hold, untangle his feet from the steel contraption, and as he safely rolls backwards onto his feet, back onto the ground. He throws on his trench coat in preparation.***

Pete: All right, this is it. Strangler and Frost, these guys are tough sons of bitches. Aside from Erek, it wasn't a winning night for us at Ground Zero. But tonight we're looking to change that, you hear?

Tod:(cleaning out his silver shades) Yeah, don't worry. We took care of Strangler at Ground Zero, so he won't be as focused tonight. He's pissed off. He won't be thinking straight. And as for Frost, I know what makes him tick. I know what he's about. His strength, and his weaknesses…You'll see.

Pete: Good…Just one question.

Tod: What?

Pete: What the hell were you doing?

Tod:…(puts on his shades) Helps me focus. Come on, let's give 'em HELL !!

***With that, Tod beelines straight for the Gorilla position, with Pete following.***

***We cut back to the ring, where Funyon stands. As Mark Hebner jogs down the aisle, Funyon makes good use of his vocal cords…and speaks. What else?***

Funyon: Ladies and gentlemen, the following is a tag team contest and it is set for ONE fall…Introducing first…

***The groovy retro sounds of Blue Oyster Cult's "Cities On Flame With Rock And Roll" ease their way out of the speakers and into the crowd's hearing devices (note: we call those ears, man) Out walks the massive Frost, and close behind is his partner Strangler…***

Funyon: At a total combined weight of 602 lbs, they are members of the Magnificent Seven. The team of: The Boston Strrrrrraaaaaangleeeeeeer and Frrrrrrrrrrrrroooooossssssst !!!!

***As the Icelandic Stranglers (for a lack of a better name) lumber out, the crowd greets them with a shower of boos. Frost lets it all drip off of him, whereas Strangler takes it a little personally and takes time to heckle a few ring side fans. Both men pose to a different side of the crowd; Frost with his usual single fist raise, Strangler with some sort of a " I don't like any of ya'll" pose. As the unnecessary clothing is removed, the "bad" theme song fades away into silence, allowing Funyon to resume his schtick.***

Funyon: And their opponents…

***Funyon can't even finish his sentence, as the violent beats of Slipknot "I Am Hated" erupts out of the speakers, causing the fans to cheer as they recognize this song as belonging to one person only…***

Funyon: At a total combined weight of almost 500 lbs, they are members of the X Force Nine. The team of: Longdoggeeerrrrrr Peeeeeeete and Tod deeeeeeeeee Kin deeessssssss!!

***Tod and Pete power walk out, as Pete is forced to follow Tod's violent pace which matches the theme song. Meanwhile, the lights make way for a mix of green and black strobe lights as short bursts of white pyro go off on stage, somehow merging both of Pete and Tod's entrances together.***

Stevens: You'll note that Team XF9 is coming out to Tod's music for this contest, which I hear is because Tod requested so to the sound techs before the show.

Riley: Ohhh PLEASE, Mark! RIGHT OFF THE BAT, Tod is already making his little demands!! Why the hell should they come out to HIS music?!

Stevens: From what I hear, it matches pretty well with Tod's aggressive philosophy of "win at all costs", and apparently, Pete has agreed to come out to it.

Riley: That's the result of Tod deKindes alreasy imposing himself on the rest of XF9!!

Stevens: What's wrong with that?! He's trying to motivate the rest of the group into adopting a more serious game plan!

***Tod and Pete slide into the ring, as the crowd sends a few faint chants of "X - F - 9!" towards them. While Pete contents himself of a single arm raise in anticipation of victory, Tod hops up to the second turnbuckle and unleashes his mighty roar towards the Todheads in attendance. As he removes his trench coat and shades, handing them off to the ring girl who's making cute eyes at him; he meets up with Pete in center ring, engaging in a face to face with their two monster opponents. Although Tod is clearly the smaller man of the group, his stare indicates that he's twice their size, as he refuses to back down from Frost's menacing glare. As the music ends and as the lighting returns to normal, Mark Hebner tries to step in between the four men, trying to get some order before the match.***

Stevens: This should be a good one, especially considering what XF9 has done to Strangler at Ground Zero.

***Whereas Strangler takes a corner, Frost stretches in the ropes, awaiting the opening bell; while Tod and Pete touch fists, agreeing that Pete will be the one to start them off. Both men circle each other as Mark Hebner signals for the opening bell.***

Riley: I don't give XF9 a chance in HELL, but let's watch anyway!

***They both study each other for a second or two … and then connect with a brutal lock up. Neither man budges for a second, until Frost makes good use of his power advantage and shoves back Pete into a corner. Under encouragements from Tod in his corner, Pete simply shakes it off; and then back to circling each other we go. Lock up #2. Pete tries his best to over power the Icelandic monster, but it's no go as Frost casually shoves him back into a corner.***

Stevens: Try as you might, you can NOT match power with Frost.

Riley: And indeed, that's what ol' Pete is finding out as we speak.

***While shakes it off one more time, Frost motions his opponent to Just Bring It ™. Frost goes for lock up #3, but Pete quickly ducks under and connects with a series of hard right hands! Irish whip attempt is reversed by Frost. Pete ducks a clothesline and a back elbow, but a shoulder block attempt from Frost leaves both men standing. Frost yells something undiscernible in Icelandic, prompting Pete to run the ropes once again. Frost suddenly catches him with a huge military press slam.***

Riley: Look at that STRENGTH!!

***Not one to be outdone, Pete thumbs Frost in the eye and falls back on his feet to the safety of the canvas.***

Stevens: And look at that agility!!

***As Frost tries to shake off the temporary blindness, Pete grabs an arm wrench and cranks it on, almost as if he wanted to tear Frost's arm off. The Icelander may be strong, but he screams in pain because an arm wasn't meant to bend that way. Pete reaches over to his corner and tags in Tod, as Mark Hebner slaps his hands together to confirm that. Tod crosses the ropes, measures the big man, and buries a hard kick right against the elbow joint. Frost tries to retreat to his corner, but Tod comes right back at him, grabbing his own arm wrench. Frost eyes the german grappler and sees nothing but a 227 lbs weakling tugging at his arm. Using all his might, he throws Tod into the rope and tries to decapitate him with a clothesline, but Tod ducks, same with a back elbow. On the third run, Frost isn't sure what to attempt, allowing Tod to slide between Frost's legs and then connect with a nice seated dropkick to the back of his head, rocking the big man.***

Stevens: And Tod is making good use of his speed. He's faster than Bobby Riley on Porn Night at Blockbuster's!

Riley:…Shut up.

***Frost turns quickly turns around and shoots a murderous towards Tod. Fuming, he charges at him, but Tod stands ready and catches the big man with a drop toe hold. He floats over and clamps on a front face lock, keeping the big man grounded for now. Frost eventually fights back up to his feet, but Tod is still maintaining a strong grip on the front face lock. Frost has had enough and simply shrugs off Tod as if he were a fly. Tod is amazed at such power, but he quickly recovers as he ducks a clothesline from the big man. Irish whip attempt by Tod, reversed by Frost; which is re-reversed by Tod as he switches sides with a modified arm wrench and then BLASTS Frost with a standing side kick, staggering the Icelander. Tod quickly tags Pete back in, as the two make good use of the alloted time together in the ring. Double Irish whip by XF9, Frost ducks a double clothesline, but XF9 comes back with a double hip toss on the monster. They quickly stay on him and score with a nice double suplex. After a quick warning from Mark Hebner, Tod is prompted back to his corner. ***

Riley: Come on ref, one at a time!!

Stevens: Great double teaming from Team XF9 here, as Pete takes over the offense!

***Pete keeps hammering on the left arm of Frost, and wrenches on it some more for good measure. Irish whip attempt, but Frost grabs onto the top rope and he ain't moving, Jack. Second attempt is blocked as well. With his free hand, Frost shoves Pete a good six feet backwards into a corner, where he proceeds to charge with a nasty running clothesline, driving the air out of Pete. Seeing as he's regained the brief advantage, Frost hammers Pete with powerful knee lifts in the mid section, prompting the usual five count from Mark Hebner. Irish whip to the opposite corner by Frost sends Pete ramming back first hard into the turnbuckle. Frost shakes off the funny feeling in his arm and charges with the intent of a murderous corner clothesline … only to be rammed into Pete's raised boot! As Frost staggers out, holding his face, Pete runs at him and scores with a HUGE running bulldog that sends the big man down. In one flowing move as he rolls up to his feet, Pete lunges forward and tags in Tod. As Frost lays on the mat for a brief second, that's all Tod needs to spring off the ropes and connect with a graceful senton atomico ala Eddie Guerrero onto the downed Icelander. Tod quickly grabs Frost's arm and tangles him up in a La Majistral cradle for the pin.***

*One!*

*Two!*

***Frost powers out of the hold for the kick out. Tod remains on the offense with forearms to the upper back as Frost is trying to get to his feet. Irish whip to the ropes by Tod. Frost ducks an imminent clothesline, and then a back elbow, but he eats a fist in the gut, doubling him over. Tod throws himself into the ropes, and connects with a neat swinging neck breaker. He runs into the ropes on more time and score with a vicious knee drop on the forehead. Cover.***

*One!*

*Tw--…

***Frost kicks out with authority, sending Tod into the air and colliding with Mark Hebner. Tod tries to keep the upper hand with right hands and forearms, but the big man swats all that away and captures Tod in a brutal uranage slam!***

Stevens: And there's the Ice Shelf by Frost!!

Riley: Look at how Frost absorbed all of Tod deKindes' offense and then he SPLATTED him onto the mat!

Stevens: Frost will use that moment to catch his breath, as he makes the tag with the Boston Strangler.

***As Frost and Strangler slap hands, Strangler comes in, almost stalking his smaller german opponent. He looms over the fallen Tod, almost relishing the beating he's about to give him.***

Riley: At Ground Zero, Tod deKindes was intrumental in costing Strangler the ICTV title; and now Strangler has his chance for payback. And now, as they used to say in classic England:"…Shit's on, daddy-o!"

***Tod tries to pull himself up to his feet, but Strangler stops that with a huge elbow drop behind the shoulder blades that puts Tod back down to the canvas. He yanks up the German one by the hair and shoves him to a corner, where he proceeds to shower him with kicks in the mid section, what some would qualify as stomping a mudhole in him. Before he can walk that sumbitch dry, Hebner once again makes use of his five count, warning Strangler to get out of the corner. Strangler casually tells off the referee, using a naughty word or two to say what he really means, and then proceeds to wrap his enormous hand around Tod's fairly average size throat; drawing another five count from Mark Hebner. Hard Irish whip to the opposite neutral corner sends Tod staggering to the center of the ring. Another Irish whip sends Tod right into dangerous territory, as he runs back first into the M7 corner. Strangler charges with his head down, but Tod flips forward out of harm's way and grabs a rear waist lock. Bobby Riley scoffs at the idea…***

Riley:…You're KIDDING me, right?

***Strangler laughs at the idea of being german suplexed by his much smaller opponent, so he elbows him in the face to break up the waist lock. Tod staggers to the wrong side of the ropes, holding the side of his face … allowing Frost to run the apron and MOW him down with a running clothesline. Mark Hebner sends a warning his way, but then gets down to the mat to count Strangler's pin attempt.***

*One!*

*Two!*

***Kick out by Tod, who ends up being shoved into a corner once again. A loud knife edge chop causes the crowd to Whoo in unison. And a second. And a third. Tod staggers out of the corner and tries to crawl towards Pete for a tag but that effort proves to be futile as Strangler grabs him from behind and drives him down with authority with a belly to back suplex. He verbally abuses the referee, ordering him to make the count, as he lies on top of Tod with a lateral press.***

*One!*

*Two!*

***Kick out by Tod.***

Riley: Come on, ref!!

Stevens: Should've hooked the leg there.

***Strangler argues that count, but then he decides to stay on the offense by hammering Tod with vicious forearms to the upper back. Irish whip to the ropes by Strangler. Tod ducks another vicious clothesline, and tries to come back with a flying crossbody but he's caught by Strangler, who barely moves an inch. He bends his knees almost halfway and propels Tod several feet behind him with a huge fallaway slam. As Tod holds his lower back in pain, Pete tries his best to rally the crowd behind the German one.***

Riley: We're only a couple minutes into this match, but look at the punishment that Tod has taken so far.

Stevens: And Longdogger Pete is trying his best to rally some support for his tag team partner.

Riley: I think he's actually telling Tod :" Stay down, it's not worth it! I'll go start the car!!".

Stevens: Will you stop, he's not saying that! He's not saying that, folks.

***Strangler drags up Tod to his feet by the hair and Irish whips him to the M7 corner once again. Strangler goes over to the XF9 corner and pie faces Pete, causing him to attempt a ring entry in retaliation. Mark Hebner steps in to prevent that, allowing Frost to come in with some devious double teaming on the german grappler. Pete tries to warn Hebner of the evil tactics used by the Magnificent Seven, but that only serves to distract the referee some more, as Frost and Strangler both grab a leg of Tod's and yank them apart.***

Riley: Tod deKindes, make a wish!

*** Strangler slaps his hands together, signaling the (fake) tag; as Frost lifts up Tod and maintains him in a huge vertical suplex position. He walks around from one side of the ropes to another, before finally dropping Tod with a nasty looking brainbuster. Cover by Frost. ***

*One!*

*Two!*

*Thr--…

***Save is made by Pete, as he buries his boot behind Frost's head. As Pete retreats back to his corner under Mark Hebner's protests, Frost Irish whip Tod in the ropes once again, and catches him with a huge spinning side walk slam. He casually boosts himself off the near set of ropes and drives down the point of the right elbow into Tod's chest cavity. Cover.***

*One!*

*Two!*

*Thr--…

***Long two count on Frost, as Tod kicks out, raising his fist into the air and letting his Todheads know that he's still in this thing. Tod tries to fight back with hard right hands to the mid section, as it has a minimal effect on the Icelandic monster. An eye gouge seems to do the trick, as Frost is temporarily blinded. Irish whip exchange sends Tod running into the ropes one more time. Frost catches him in a military press slam position, but Tod wiggles free, lands safely back on his feet behind Frost and then clips him behind the left knee. Frost suddenly hits the mat, clutching his leg; as the fans pop at this sudden development.***

Stevens: Big desperation move, as Tod gets set to work on the leg!

Riley: He's cheating!! Two minutes for roughing!!

***Tod capitalizes, and drops a series of elbows on the big man's big leg, further weakening it. Tod drags Frost to the center of the ring with a little difficulty, but he manages to attempt a figure four leg lock. The move is halfway applied, but Frost fights out of it and shoves Tod into a corner with his free leg. As Tod recovers from the full force of ramming into the turnbuckle, Frost tries to get up and discovers a slight limp developping in his left leg. Tod, fully recovered, zeroes in on the leg and aims his crosshairs straight on that knee. Roundhouse kicks to the knee from Tod seem to stagger the big man. Frost tries to hobble to his corner, but Tod stops him with an Irish whip attempt. It's reversed by Frost with authority. Tod ducks under a massive clothesline and nails another clip behind the knee of Frost, who hits the mat in pain once again. He tries to get up, but Tod is right on top of him with a dropkick to the kneecap, sending the big man back to a kneeling position. Tod throws himself into the ropes and nails a seated dropkick to Frost's head, with a resounding SMACK. Tod falls on top for the cover.***

*One!*

*Two!*

***Frost powers out easily once again. Tod goes for some more offense on the big man, but Frost replies with an old school thumb to the eyes and then he regains the advantage with a HUGE chokeslam, almost holding up Tod in the air for five seconds. Frost limps over to his corner and tags in his partner Strangler once again. He sees the prone Tod lying on the canvas, and then drops an elbow on him, allowing him to go for the cover.***

*One!*

*Two!*

*Thr--…

***Pete once again makes the save by lunging out of his corner and planting his forearm on the back of Strangler's head. This time, Mark Hebner has to physically interject himself in front of Pete, forcing him back into a corner. Meanwhile, Strangler makes good use of the distraction, allowing him to shower his german opponent with stiff kicks to the mid section and back. He brings up Tod to his feet and then sends him to the ropes via an Irish whip. He catches him in a sleeper hold … only to slam him down with authority to the canvas. He contemplates a cover, but he remembers the trigger happy Pete, who will jump into the ring on a moment's notice. He instead picks up Tod by the hair again and slaps him a few. Hard Irish whip into a corner by Strangler. Moving at a slow but methodical pace, he advances towards Tod, casually applying a choke hold; which draws a five count from Mark Hebner.***

Stevens: Strangler has to be careful in not getting disqualified, here!

Riley: I don't think Strangler cares about the match tonight, Slam Dunk! He wants to get his hands on either Tod deKindes or Longdogger Pete, and right now he's enjoying beating the HELL out of ol' Todski!

***Irish whip to the opposite corner by Strangler, who quickly charges … and runs into nothing but ring post, as Tod moves! Under the support of the crowd and his partner, Tod begins a slow crawl towards his corner, with his hand outstretched. As Tod inches closer and closer towards his partner, Frost decides that he's having none of THAT and steps in the ring to interfere (being mindful of his buggering knee, of course), but the referee is quick to stop him. Meanwhile, Tod FINALLY makes the tag! Pete comes in and now it's breaking loose in Tulsa…***

Stevens:…Can I just say it?

Riley:…Fine, go ahead.

Stevens: And Longdogger Pete is a HOUSE ON FIRE!!

***Pete fends off Strangler with hard right hands, but as soon as Mark Hebner diverts his attention back to the action, he's flabbergasted as he sees the supposedly illegal man in the ring. He shoves Pete back to his corner, insisting that a tag be made. Pete, furious, insists that he done just that, but Hebner stands his ground.***

Stevens: Come on ref, he made the tag!!

Riley: But he did not see it and thus it doesn't count!! So says the man in stripes!!

***Pete passes off Hebner's claims as bullshittious and reluctantly goes back to his corner. Meanwhile, Frost and Strangler profit from the referee's distraction, as they administer a double team beating on the helpless Tod. Team M7 once again switches places without a tag, as Frost remains in the ring for some offense. He raises Tod to his feet and locks his (Tod's) right arm behind his head and balls up his (Frost's) fist.***

Riley: Can you feel that, Slam Dunk?

Stevens: Feel what?

Riley: Can you FEEL that CHILL?!

Stevens: What chill?

***Frost rears back and BLASTS Tod square in the chest with a devastating heart punch.***

Riley: The chill that Tod deKindes has just suffered due to the Touch Of Frost~!!

***Tod crumbles to the mat, as Frost lies down on top of him for the cover.***

*One!*

*Two!*

***Nope, Frost lifts him up. Continuing with this match's theme that has been "Kick Tod's Ass", Frost throws Tod into the ropes. A clothesline and a back elbow are ducked, but Frost catches Tod with yet another military press slam. Frost is visibly straining because of the pain in his leg, but he maintains the hold. After holding him up for a good five seconds, Frost simply drops Tod back down stomach first onto the mat. Cover.***

*One!*

*Two!*

***No dice, Frost pulls him up again.***

Stevens: Does he even wanna win??

Riley: Frost knows what he's doing.

Stevens: He's TOYING with Tod, that's what he's doing!!

***Frost finally puts Tod in a standing head scissor, signaling for what might be the Early Winter.***

Riley: And NOW he's gonna finish things off!!

***Frost hooks one arm…then the other…but then changes his mind? As Strangler yells at Frost to finish Tod off, Frost instead chooses to whip Tod into a neutral corner. He takes a few steps back, and starts a limping charge…Big mistake! As Tod collapses out of the way, Frost collide knee first into the top turnbuckle! Both men are down. Hebner begins his mandatory ten count.***

Riley: You icy GOOF!! Ya had him!!

***As Hebner reaches 8 and a half, Tod reaches, and reaches … and TAGS in Pete as the crowd erupts.***

Stevens: FINALLY Pete is a house afire!!

***Strangler comes in to thwart the resurgent Pete, but he gets taken down with right hands and clotheslines. While Strangler rolls out, Pete whips Frost in the ropes and scores with a HUGE big boot to the face. Frost leans on the ropes for balance, but Pete comes right back with a gutshot and a neat T-Bone/pumphandle slam combo. ***

Stevens: It's a brawl as all four men are in the ring now!

***Strangler charges towards Pete, but Tod appears out of nowhere and spears him down to a big reaction! He hammers him with rapid right hands, then meets up with Pete for a BIG double suplex on Frost. Strangler tries again a charge on his opponents but he ends up taking a vicious superkick to the jaw by Tod. Gutshot by Pete, as he lands his modified DDT on Strangler.***

Stevens: There's the Clogger on Strangler!!

***With Strangler neutralized, Pete puts Frost in a standing headscissor while Tod hops to a second turnbuckle nearby. Pete tries to lift up Frost in a powerbomb, but it's too much as Frost backdrops him with ease. He grabs Tod in a double choke off the ropes and biels him halfway across the ring with a brutal choke toss. A groggy Strangler walks in the ring and grabs Tod, holding him for Frost. Frost charges…but Tod moves at the last second!***

Stevens: And Frost has just nailed his own partner with the Hell Freezes Over!! Strangler is down and OUT!!

*** In a last ditch effort, Tod does another nasty clip behind the knee of Frost, causing the big man to howl in pain. Pete grabs a quick small package on the injured monster.***

*One!*

*Two!*

*Three!!*

***Bell rings.***

Riley: FAST COUNT!!!

Funyon: Here are your winners: Longdogger Pete and Tod deeeeeeeKindeeeesssss!!!

***As Slipknot fires up, team XF9 quickly scatter out, while Frost bounces up fuming about being pinned.***

Stevens: The XF9 pulls one out of their bag and get the win here tonight!

***As the winners retreat to the back, a recovering Strangler points menacingly at them, while Frost swears in Icelandic towards Mark Hebner.***

Stevens: More action after this!!

August 3, 2002

As always, darkness enshrouds the room. It doesn’t even faze Thoth anymore. He expects it; relishes it. When there is no darkness, his mind relents. Lately, he’s been relenting a lot, exploring facets of his psyche long abandoned. The places that he normally takes comfort from, now are cold and forboding. They could hurt him. Not that they do. Yet.

Thoth feels the presence of another, even in the overwhelming darkness. He whom he has been seeking.

“It’s about time you showed up,” the figure in question says, breaking the ice without trepidation. Thoth leans in toward the voice. “There you are...”

“Nekura.”

The Reaper turns around to face the Balancer, showing no emotion.

“Nekura, what is going on? Why wasn’t I notified about Silent’s return?”

The Reaper steps forward, his figure slowly revealing itself from the envelope of shadows. He starts pacing laterally in front of Thoth.

“At what point did you think it necessary to know every intricate detail of the Clan.” He keeps walking, although his thoughts pause. “Do you know how hard I have worked, to build the Clan into a worldwide powerhouse of the underworld? You know, in the beginning, young Balancer, it was just me. It is not an easy proposition to go from one to many.” He stops to look into the Balancer’s face.

“I think you can forgive me if a few cogs are ignored in the whole of the machine.” He turns to leave.

“Not so fast, Master Nekura.” The sarcasm is just dripping in Thoth’s voice. Nekura stops suddenly, his nervous system hiccuping. He turns to face Thoth, and berate him for his insolence, but Thoth has the first word.

“Silent... and I... are not cogs. We are NOT cogs. We’ve been your most loyal servants for a while now. Nay, even friends. Or at least, I would like to think so. But you’re going behind my back, Nekura.” Thoth walks in closer to Spider. “First with Lady Red. And then Silent’s return to the Junior League. And now this. Do YOU know how long I’ve waited to stand face to face with Silent, in the ring? You owe me that, Nekura. You could have told me he was in the building. And while we’re at it, maybe you can tell me what his issue with Edwin is.”

“Issue? Issue? Ho, Balancer, you know not what you are toying at. And you should stay out of it. I keep you in the dark to protect you, Thoth, can’t you see that? If you knew too much, you might be dead by now... and I don’t want that. You’re almost like a son to me, Yuuichiro. Don’t let me down.” Nekura walks away, and sits down at a nearby table and chairs. Even in the dark, he has excellent vision. Thoth’s is almost as good.

“Now, you have a title shot coming soon. You could be champion of the World, Balancer. Again, don’t let me down.”

“Okay.” Thoth leaves, as Nekura keeps his seat. He shuts the door behind him, and walks off.

Knowledge isn’t a liability, he thinks to himself. He who has the most knowledge wins over his adversaries.

August 3, 2002

The SWF logo appears on the screen in black and white with an old film effect put to it. Some nondescript porno music begins to play as a mysterious male voice speaks.

Mysterious Voice: “The following announcement has been paid for by Bobby Riley.”

Riley: “Damn these no showing bastards! When I get my hands on them, I’ll…”

Stevens: “Bobby, they showed up. You don’t have to do the diatribe anymore.”

Riley: “Really? That’s news to me. OK, let’s go to the match then.”

Once again, the black and white SWF logo flashes on the screen.

Mysterious Voice: “The preceding has been paid for by Bobby Riley.”

We quickly fadeout only to fade back in with the normal SWF Storm logo and theme music. Funyon stands ready as the tandem of Mark Stevens and Bobby Riley welcomes back the viewers.

Stevens: “If you’re just tuning in, we’ve had some fantastic action thus far and very promising matches coming up including the four way lumberjack match for our main event Of course, let’s not forget our upcoming bout between Mercury and Ced Ordonez. Well, folks, it doesn’t look like we’re going to have that match…”

Riley: “WHAT? You said they showed?”

Stevens: “Well they did show, but…here let’s show you what happened during the break.”

A screen wipe featuring the SWF logo transitions into a clip with the phrase “During the break” superimposed in the lower right hand corner. A pumped up Mercury, motivated since his initiation into the Magnificent Seven, walks down a hallway primed and ready for some action. He passes by a man in a white shirt sitting on some crates and stops in his tracks, realizing who the guy is. The man stands up and the camera gets a glimpse of the text on his shirt: “CED”

Mercury: “Are you going to even wrestle, you lazy bum?”

Ced: “I’m not here to wrestle.”

Mercury: “Then what’s your problem?”

Ced: “No problems. No issues. Just…”

He turns his head, the camera barely catching the glint in Ced’s eye.

Ced: “…a proposition. You and me, we’ve been tag team partners for a while. Unwitting partners, yes, but I think I could be of service to you and your buddies in the Magnificent Seven. Talk to your friends and we see if we can strike some sort of bargaining agreement. Think about it.”

Ced turns his head completely away from the camera, rubbing the back of his neck before walking away from a confused Mercury.

August 3, 2002

Tod and LDP drag Strangler to the top of the wrecked car. They mount themselves on each side, delivering hard rights to the face of the Boston Strangler. The fans are so into the beating that they don't even notice that Erek Taylor has climbed to the top of the Smarkstron!!

"(Mark) Oh my god, he won't!"

"(Riley) He will!"

LDP and Tod hold on to Strangler. The fans watch on, and Erek Taylor leaps off the Smarkstron!!!! Time slows down drastically, and everyone has their eyes pasted to the scene. Erek Taylor flies off the Smarkstron, and in the air, twists and turns, until he heads down....

down 30 feet....

down 20 feet.....

down 10 feet.......

CRAAASSSHHHHH!!!!!!

....AND COMPLETES A TWISTING MOONSAULT ON THE BOSTON STRANGLER FROM THE TOP OF THE SMARKSTRON!!! THE ARENA EXPLODES AS LDP AND TOD KEEPS EREK LYING ON TOP OF THE BOSTON STRANGLER!!!

-----------------------------------

Strangler sits uncomfortably on a rocking chair, watching the winning move of his Ground Zero match over and over. He rewinds the tape and starts to play it again. As he watches, the infamous figure of Taylor Nicholas Thompson approaches from behind. TNT watches the clip, and with a smirk:

"Wow, that must have hurt a lot."

Strangler shoots a glare at the youngster. "What do you think?!" Strangler responds. The M7 behemoth continues to watch.

"You know, not to be a conspiracist or anything, but did you notice that Erek just beat you again inside the arena?"

"I noticed."

"Well, now you get to sit back and watc-"

"What?" Strangler quips. TNT gathers the courage to respond: "Well, he beat you again and again. Aren't you going to sit back and watch how he works so then you can finally beat him?"

"Are you saying I can't beat him?"

"N-"

"ARE YOU SAYING THAT I CAN'T BEAT HIM?!"

"N-"

"ARE YOU SAYING THAT I CAN'T BEAT A WHINY BITCH LIKE EREK?!"

"NO!"

"Good. I'll see you later."

Strangler stands up and walks out the room in a rage.

August 3, 2002

Thoth walks down the halls of the Sovereign Band Arena, pleased with a night off…except for the lumberjack match, of course. He’d have a chance to possibly have a hand in who he faces next week, who’ll be alongside him when he goes up against—

“Thoth! Thoth, hold on!”

--Edwin MacPhisto. The Balancer turns, and the man himself is dashing down the hall towards him, slowing to a stop by his side. “Thoth, I’ve been looking all over for you. We need to talk, of many things, said the walrus, but most importantly--”

The Balancer smirks. “Edwin, slow down.”

And the Mac Daddy obliges. “How’s the night treating you? Night off and all? Feeling a little better after Wargames?”

“Less broken…still disappointed, though. We had Wilson and his servants up against the wall…we were so close.” Thoth taps his fingers against the wall disappointedly, and there’s a brief pause in the conversation. “What about you, Edwin? How are you holding up amidst all…this?” With a sweeping gesture, Thoth takes in all the locker rooms and milling workers…

“Not so well.”

“…Silent?”

“…Silent.”

“Let’s have a seat.”

The two men step into a nearby office and plop down in a couple of old folding chairs, and Thoth begins to talk. “I could tell something was wrong when he appeared Sunday night. Not only with the way of things, but with you—you reacted to him very strongly, almost as strongly as I. Clearly there’s something bothering you about the Slaughterer.”

“Well, he’s called the Slaughterer, good sir strap-pants,” quips Edwin in a brief moment of levity. “That’s not exactly the best of starts. I just wish you could have, you know, filled me on the imminent arrival of one of your nearest and dearest sadistic-savants.”

Thoth shakes his head. “Edwin, I had no idea. You saw my face—I had no reason to believe Silent would be there Sunday night. I’ve barely gotten a chance to talk to Spider…but from what I understand, only he knew. Maybe McWeed, too…” Thoth trails off, staring up at the lights. Edwin snaps his fingers, and Thoth’s focus shifts back down.

“Look me in the eyes and tell me that.”

“What? Edwin--”

“No harm, Thoth,” says Edwin, a cold line appearing across his jaw. “Just look me in the eyes and tell me that you had no idea Silent was coming.”

“This is ridiculous--”

“It’s not ridiculous, for god’s sakes!” shouts Edwin, suddenly rising out of his chair and kicking it aside, the earnest truth of his visit coming through. “Look. Silent is here. He has a reason to be here. If the Carnival and Clan are to be on equal terms for any longer…I need to know where you stand.”

“Stand? On what?” snaps Thoth, now letting a little of his own latent aggression shine through. “On Silent? He’s a Clansman, Edwin. We’re loyal to our own first…”

“So that’s how it’s going to be, then, eh?” murmurs Edwin, crossing his arms. “Thoth, Spider, and Silent: the good, the bad, and the ugly. Come to think of it, I’m right pissed at Flesher too with the way he’s treated Magnifico, and Fallout--”

“Edwin, we’ve got goals just like you do!” shouts Thoth, kicking his own chair back and rising to meet Edwin’s gaze. “You fight well, and you fight nobly. I like to think that I do to. But we in the Clan seek glory just like you…we go to prove ourselves, we go for our name, we go for the title.”

Edwin chuckles. Thoth realizes that maybe, just maybe, he should have stowed that last one.

“So that’s it. Well, I’ll see you on next Storm then, Thoth. God help my soul if you manage to sneak Fallout into that match as well.”

“Edwin--”

“And when I see you next Storm, Thoth, with this strap on the line, you’d best fight like I know you can…and not with Silent by your side. I don’t know why he’s here, I’m not totally sure what in the bloody hell he wants, but I don’t want what he’s selling. Next week’s Storm, Thoth, is about the world title…and you.”

“Edwin--”

“I’ll see you there. Have fun in lumberjack country.” The Mac Daddy gives a brusque nod, turns, and stalks out the door, not exactly in the best of moods. Thoth shakes his head and picks up the kicked-aside chairs, setting them back into place as he finishes his thought, out loud, but only to himself.

“I don’t entirely know what he wants either, Edwin.”

August 3, 2002

(Music starts playing, the television starts pulsing with light.... GET YOUR ASS BACK OB THE COUCH! STORM IS BACK ON!!! The camera passes over many different signs in the arena, including "Click here to sign a petition to get HVT back in the SWF" and "DESALVO SLAM!!!". Cut to the announcer tables where Jay and Silent.. er...."Grand Slam" Mark Stevens and Bobby Riley sit.)

Grand Slam: Welcome back to SWF Storm!

Riley: *looking up* I better be Jay in that comparison...

Grand Slam: You mean the burn-boy gay guy? Seems to make sense.

Riley: ...Hey!

Grand Slam: We've had two superb matches so far, with Danny Williams taking on Xero to start and the M7's own Superstation and Frost taking on XF9's LDP and Tod DeKindes. And the X Force Nine fun isn't done tonight either, as new XF9'er Annie Eclectic... that's right Annie E is back. Should have ordered Ground Zero on *dubbed over voice* AT&T In Demand Pay Per View *Grand Slam's voice* shouldn't you have?

Riley: ...How did you do that?

Grand Slam: Do what?

Riley: That weird voice shift where you said different pay per view systems to the world depending on where they live.

Grand Slam: Only faces can do that, sorry Bobby.

Riley: Well to hell with you then, my turn on the match description! Why care about some washed up lesbian and the slut she stole from our Hardcore Champion? The -real- story was Sacred's return to the ring, and return to Creative Control! The 'Best thing' in this league is sure to make short work on the smallest wrestler in the league, and remember, we have Z in here!

Grand Slam: You yourself have said many times over that it's not the size that matters but what you do with it.

Riley: ... That doesn't pertain to a wrestling match.

Grand Slam: Sure Bobby... sure... Funyon's up on his feet, I suppose it's our turn to shut up and Funyon's time to tell you who's coming! Or something like.. that... right.

Riley: You suck.

(The immaculately dressed funyon stands in center ring, microphone in hand.)

Funyon: Ladies and Gentlemen, our next match is scheduled for one fall, with a thirty minute time limit. First, from Adelaide, Australia...

(The lights fade as fuzzy clips of riots, war, mobs and bomb attacks play over the SmarkTron and cut out. Suddenly "Save Yourself" begins to play as the sequence starts anew.)

Funyon: ... weighing in at two hundred thirty one pounds, representing Creative Control...SAAAACREEEEED!!!

(Sacred walks out from the entrance ramp, his wet black hir dripping down his bare chested form. He stops at the top of the entrance ramp, oblivious of the jeers eminating from the crowd. His arms slowly rise up from his sides until the extend straight out. Unimpressed by the crowd's reaction, he walks down the ramp and enters the ring, waiting in a far corner for his opponent.)

Riley: Look at him Mark! Sacred is chiseled, buff, he's in great form for a man his size! Compact strength, I don't see how Anne Eclectic has a chance unless she somehow has great tendon strength in her breasts.

Grand Slam: First, stop before you cream your pants Chuckabilly. Secondly.... boob-tendons?

Riley: Sure, they got tendons there!

Grand Slam: You really *never have* slept with a woman have you?

(Riley shifts uncomfortably in his seat as we cut back to Funyon..)

Funyon: And his opponent... from...

Voice: Thank you Funyon but I'll take it from here!

(Funyon looks over at the entrance ramp, where the gorgeous Molly stands by the entrance curtain.)

Funyon: But... but I do the introductions here.

Molly: Yes, thank you, but I'll take it from here. Take five or something.

(Funyon looks around, but simply shrugs and leaves the ring, much to his confusion)

Riley: What the hell is this?

Grand Slam: I don't know, shut up and let's see what happens.

(cut back to Molly at the Entrance ramp.. a single electric guitar medley plays over the PA system...)

Molly: Ladies and Gentlemen, let me introduce to you, from Chicago, Illinois. She is five seven, weighing one hundred fifty five pounds... part of X Force Nine, your favorite lesbian, my lover and NEXT SWF HARDCORE CHAMPION.... ANNIE E!

(A wall of white pyro explodes in front of Molly, as the guitar medley kicks into a full fledged song.....

"I NEVER KNEW GIRLS EXISTED LIKE YOU!"

The pyro dissipates as Annie Eclectic stands at the top of the entrance ramp, Kendo sword in hand raised high. The crowd cheers as the couple walk down the ramp, Annie stopping to point at herself and Molly at every chant of "She Is Beautiful". Walking up the steel steps, she looks over at Sacred, makes as if she's about to rush him with the sword, but then smiles

and drops the stick by the steel steps. Turning to face the crowd, she sharply points towards her own chest with her thumb, getting a decent pop from the crowd. She goes through the ropes and stays at the nearby corner away from Sacred. The referee checks each fighter's readiness as the lights go back to normal and the music fades.)

DING DING DING

Grand Slam: Apparently Molly also has announcer duties as well as manager privelages.

Riley: She's simply and extension of Annie's ego, projecting another being to uphold the belief that she is the one and only wrestler to think about in this league. Such psychological manipulation is disgusting.

Grand Slam: ...I think my brain just exploded. ...or your drugs finally kicked in.

(Annie E and Sacred lock up in the center of the ring, each trying to gain a strength advantage on the other. Sacred quickly pulls his opponent down, cinching in a side headlock. Annie reacts with a hard shove, pushing Sacred into the ropes. Sacred bounces off the ropes and returns with a flying forearm, knocking the Angel down to the mat. Sacred pops back up to his feet a smile visibly shining across his face. Annie E stands to her feet, shaking her head. Each fighter circles each other, and locks up a second time. Sacred gains the strength advantage and shoves Annie E backwards to the mat hard.)

Riley: Strength, plain and simple. It's and even fight on speed, but Sacred's larger size gives him the clear advantager here.

Mark: I can't argue that but remember, Annie Eclectic has shown to be one of the most intelligent, scheming fighters in this league. She rarely enters a match without a plan, and I'm sure she's got some idea of what to do here.

(Annie pops back to her feet, ignoring the grin on Sacred's face. Taking a breath to calm herself, Annie circles Sacred in the ring and locks back up. Eclectic gives Sacred an Irish Whip into the ropes and leaps high for a Dropkiss... but falls back to the mat as Sacred holds onto the ropes halting his forward momentum. Sacred walks over to the downed Eclectic and pulls her to her feet. Sacred sends a hard forearm to her temple, following up with a second. Sacred continues the forearm assault, backing Eclectic up until she's leaning against the ropes. Sacred grabs Annie's wrist, Irish Whipping her into the far ropes, Sacred runs up to center ring to meet her. On her return, Sacred jumps high, leap frogging his opponent and spinning around as Annie bounces off the other side. Steadying himself, Sacred

shoots his arm out on Annie's return, lifting her up and spinning her like a pinwheel until he drops to one knee, dropping Annie Eclectic back first onto it. A scream of pain echoes throughout the arena as Annie drops to the mat, writhing in pain while a shocked and dismayed Molly watches from the outside.)

Grand Slam: Amazing control move by Sacred as he hits a Tilt-o-whirl Backbreaker! That could snap your spine in half in a split second!

Riley: Exactly! I hope he gives her everthing Jay Dawg forgot to at Ground Zero. Homewreckers deserve beatdowns like that!

Grand Slam: Disgusting.... Sacred goes for the cover...

ONE....

TWO....

TH...kickout!

Grand Slam: Close call right at the start of the match, but Sacred has this match in hand early on.

(Sacred pulls the Angel up by her hair, garnering a warning from the referee. Sacred shoves a hard knee into Eclectic's ribs, doubling her over. Sacred locks in a front facelock and lifts Annie's arm over his head. Grabbing at her belt, Sacred lifts the Angel up high, their two bodies making a vertical line to the ring. With authority, Sacred drops back hitting a vertical suplex on the Angel. Annie Eclectic rolls upon impact, clutching at her sides in pain.)

Grand Slam: Sacred appears to have a huge opportunity here, after a grueling Hardcore match at Ground Zero, Sacred is methodically taking this fight straight to Annie E's ribs and back, and she's hurt.

Riley: Was there any doubt, psshht, you and your 'Oh she's smart! I'm defending her because I'm looking at her cans all night!'

Grand Slam: Bobby, we can always settle this in the ring sometime...

Riley:....

(Sacred rolls the Angel over onto her back and straddles her. Reaching underneath her chin, Sacred locks his fingers and pulls backwards, sending shocks of pain shooting down her back. Annie E immediately screams out and pushes on the mat looking for a way out. The referee kneels by the fighters, waiting to see if Eclectic gives up. Annie shakes her head as much as Sacred gives her room to and places both hands on the mat and pushes up. Struggling to fight for air, Annie starts to feel the slightest amount of space underneath her. The crowd reacts to her attempt to release the hold and start cheering "An-nie E! An-nie E!". Molly begins to bang on the ring apron trying to inspire her lover to break the hole. Annie is able to push herself to a hands and knees position, but Sacred immediately hops up and drops his entire weight right onto the lower back of Annie E, dropping her back down to a laying position.)

Grand Slam: Say what you will about Sacred, but he's technically sound, he knows Annie is hurting, and goes straight for the back. Annie tries to escape, but he's right back on the back, attacking and keeping a simple submission hold on.

Riley: Plus, he isn't expending nearly as much energy as Annie E is. Not even close, if she does find a way out somehow, she'll be so exhausted that Sacred merely has to pick the rest of her apart.

(The crowd is still cheering madly, trying to will their favorite in the match to succeed. Annie reaches a hand out to the ropes, but it's too far away. The referee asks for a submission again, but the Angel refuses to give up. Annie pushes her hands back down, trying to push her way out of the hold again. The crowd chants and screams, as the shaking Annie struggles...but....barely...gets...to... her... knees... Sacred hops back up to attack her exposed back, but Annie is able to twist slightly and send her elbow straight back, colliding with the soft flesh of Sacred's groin! The crowd pops at the cheap shot as Sacred falls to his side. Annie rolls away but still gets a warning from the referee for the low blow.)

Riley: DQ! Disqualify the cheating bitch!

Grand Slam: Not the most noble way out of the hold, but if she didn't this would have turned to a loss for Annie E. But can she somehow gain momentum? She's still hurt and Sacred is back up, the groin shot not taking enough out of him.

(Sacred rises to his feet, visibly angry for the low blow. He drags Annie E to her feet, and immediately places his own head by her hip. Lifting up, Sacred turns to the center of the ring holding Annie E over his shoulder, her upper body dangling over his back. Sacred holds her legs in his hands and steadies his balance...)

Grand Slam: Sacred doesn't let up! He's dead set on breaking the Angel's back tonight, he has Annie setup for the Black Number One, and I honestly see no chance of her kicking out of that one!

Riley: You said it, and with not even a whisper of offense from X Force Nine's resident lesbian. Another reason why she is inferior, and should never have gotten bumped.

(The crowd boos as the watch Sacred slowly increase the grip on Annie E's green trousers. Sacred pulls down on the Angel's legs while leaning forward... but the Angel is still on his back, halting the attack by tenaciously holding onto his waistband for her life. Sacred makes a second attempt to hit the Black Number One but fails again. Sacred takes in a deep breath, and runs forward two steps... falling...backwards..right...onto... Annie E! Molly shrieks out loud and puts her hand to her mouth, almost feeling her lover's pain inside the ring. The referee drops as Sacred stays on top of Eclectic for the pin...

ONE....

TWO...

THR....

..and the referee stops the count, tapping for Sacred to get up. Sacred rises off his foe and raises his hands in the air, but the Referee pulls them back down, explaining that the pin was broken... by a foot on the rope.)

Grand Slam: HOW did she get the wherewithal to put her foot on the ropes after that move? Sacred dropping himself right onto the Angel after he couldn't nail the Black Number One and now he's very pissed that he didn't get the three count!

Riley: He should be! I never saw a foot on the ropes there! Sacred's being screwed because he's Australian!

Grand Slam: Riley, he's aligned with our Commisioner, Stubby McWeed, how could he get screwed?

Riley: ... ROGUE REFEREE! EXPELL HIS ASS!

Grand Slam: *sigh* Whatever....

(Sacred continues to argue with the referee, who adamantly refuses to award a pinfall to Sacred. Sacred gives the referee a few final harsh words before turning around... straight into a Dropkiss! Sacred staggers backwards a step before falling as the crowd goes apeshit for the sudden turnaround. Sacred struggles to rise to his feet, as Annie E bounces off the ring ropes behind him. Sacred gets to one foot but is propelled forward as Annie E jumps off the rebound, grabbing his head in midair and driving it into the mat.)

Grand Slam: Annie E comes back out of nowhere with a dropkiss and now a running bulldog! Cover by the Angel...

ONE....

TWO....kickout!

Riley: Ha! Not even close! You can't take out Sacred with a weak offense like that.

(Annie E gets up to her feet and takes a second to catch her breath and clear the cobwebs out of her head. Sacred rises up to one knee, and Annie immediately rushes towards him. Sacred looks up, and then ducks as Annie leaps over him. Sacred turns around as Annie bounces off the ropes on the other side... and picks her up over his shoulder! Sacred hops up and whips Annie E off his shoulder, forcing her flat onto her back...)

Riley: Sit out Black Number One! He couldn't hit it earlier but did he make it ever count later!

Grand Slam: Yes, but he's back up and he's not making the cover! What is he doing?

Riley: He doesn't need to, he can stay on top now and destroy her, Stubby would love to see this pretender to Jay Dawg's title wiped out forever.

(Sacred points towards the crowd, making a slit throat motion with his hand. The crowd jeers the Aussie as he lifts Annie E up to her feet and sends her hard into the corner with an Irish Whip. Sacred calmly wlks over to the opposite corner, again jeering at the crowd, who is only too willing to reciprocate. Sacred stares at his opponent, then closes his eyes, drawing a deep breath. Sacred opens his eyes and makes a mad rush at the slumped Angel in the corner. Three fourths of the way there Sacred lunges forward with all his weight and dives headfirst straight into the exposed ribs of Annie E!)

Grand Slam: Kamikaze into the corner! That's it, all the punishment Annie E has taken tonight, and even though each time she found a way out this is too much, she HAS to have a broken rib or three now!

Riley: Look! The fun isn't over yet! I hope Molly's paying attention, because this is what happens to everyone that crosses Creative Control's path!

(Sacred holds onto the second ropes with each of his hands, and powers forward with his legs, driving his should deep into Annie's ribs. Sacred continues the assault as the referee counts, warning Sacred again with a DQ. Sacred stops his attack at four, and rises to his feet. He then slaps the Angel across the face with all his strength, sending the sound of impact throughout the arena.)

Grand Slam: That is sick! Slapping a defenseless woman in the corner, I think we may need to think about calling this match, Annie E is obviously in no condition to fight any further and... wait... SACRED's AT THE FAR CORNER AGAIN!

Riley: YYYYYEEEESSSSSSSSS!

Grand Slam: NOT AGAIN! DAMMIT! That's TOO MUCH! She's already taken so much punishment so far.... I can't watch this...

Riley: Wuss!

(Sacred looks over the audience in front of him and smiles, directing his stare at Annie Eclectic unmoving in the corner. He glances over at Molly, making a kiss kiss motion at her. Molly gets a look of disgust across her face and promptly flashes her middle finger straight at Sacred. The crowd pops madly, but Sacred simply scowls and points at her... then at Annie E. Sacred takes a running start, leaping forward at full speed towards Annie's midsection and hitting.... nothing... but.... STEEL.....POST! The scream of pain from Sacred's mouth echoes throughout the arena as the crowd pops insanely for Annie's last second escape.)

Grand Slam: SACRED MISSES! Sacred gets a shoulder full of Steel hitting the post full on with his shoulder! With the speed he ran into it with he just might have dislocated his shoulder!

Riley: NOO!

Grand Slam: Annie has a chance all of a sudden but can she take advantage of it?

(Annie holds onto the ropes for support, trying to clear her head of the pain radiating from her back and sides. Sacred begins to extract himself from between the ropes, moving his torso backwards away from the corner. Annie waits until his shoulder clears the ropes and sends a hard straight kick right into the hurt joint. Sacred drops to one knee, as Annie sends a roundhouse kick into the hurt shoulder, knocking Sacred backwards to the mat. Annie leans back against the ropes and leaps into the air, landing a leg drop onto the injured shoulder as the crowd cheer her on.)

Grand Slam: Annie is goes straight for the hurt shoulder, but she needs a quick finish here, she can't waste time trying to setup a submission!

Riley: And that's where she'll fail! I bet she's smelling a Triple C, but Sacred will recover way before she has a chance to sink that hold in, and when he gets back up, she's done for sure!

(Annie stands over the fallen sacred and drives her foot into the hurt shoulder. She sends stomp after stomp into the injured joint of the Aussie... until her foot is suddenly caught by Sacred's good hand! With a harde shove he knocks the off-balance Annie to the mat, giving him time to get back up to his feet.

Annie rises to her feet as well, both fighters staring across the ring at each other, holding onto their throbbing painful injuries. Annie backs off, but Sacred jump starts his feet like a world class track star. He rushes at the Angel... who drops down and locks her feet with his, sending his head and shoulder into the top rope off a drop toe hold! Sacred bounces off the top rope and backwards hard to the mat. Annie E immediately crawls over for a quick cover...)

ONE....

TWO....

THR....kickout!

(Molly screams at the referee from the outside, who flashes two fingers at her, signifying the count. Annie rolls off Sacred and rises to one knee.)

Grand Slam: This match is nearly even now, both fighters are hurting, but the momentum is starting to flow in the Angel's favor, will she capitalize on it however?

(Annie gets up to her feet slowly, dragging Sacred up with her. Annie holds Sacred's torso down, and sends a hard knee right into his shoulder socket! Certain that the pain will stun her opponent, Annie wraps her arm around his head in a front facelock and points to the audience, smiling through her pain... Annie grabs Sacred's waistband and tries to lift him up... and only gets him an inch off the ground before having to drop him back to his feet. The crowd begins cheering to help their heroine, as Annie lifts again... but is unable to get Sacred up for the finisher...)

Grand Slam: She's going for the Annie-T but her ribs and back HAVE to be affecting her ability to pull it off. Even while incapacitated Sacred has the advantage!

Riley: And that's exactly how he planned it. I told you Sacred was smart!

(Molly begins pounding on the ring apron, as the crowd follows suit, stomping to the beat she lays on the canvas. The crowd cheers for Annie who makes one more attempt, pulling hard on Sacred's waistband.... lifting.... getting Sacred nearly perpendicular to her body... trying to lift higher.... and suddenly drops Sacred as he musters the strength to send a weak left hand into Annie's ribs!)

Grand Slam: Sacred counters and the crowd just deflates from it! Annie E almost had this won, she nearly had Sacred up for her devastating Annie-T...

Riley: But she DIDN'T HIT IT Mark! Sacred's back up and Annie will have hell to pay!

(Sacred rises to his feet and throws a forearm into Annie's ribs, sending her stumbling backwards a step. Another forearm backs her up further, and another sends her stumbling backwards into the ropes. Sacred presses up against her and grabs her wrist, sending her into the opposite ropes. Annie hits the ropes on the other side... but holds onto the ropes to stop her forward motion. Sacred catches Annie's reversal and runs towards her. Annie rushes forward as well as both meet in the center of the ring..... and Annie quickly lifts the body of Sacred onto her shoulders! In an instant Annie grabs Sacred's legs in front of her and pulls as she drops down. Sacred flies in front of Annie, who quickly grabs ahold of Sacred's head and presses it hard into her shoulder as she lands in a sit out. All the impact goes straight to Sacred's head who limply rolls off to one side onto his back...)

Grand Slam: SPLASHDOWN! SPLASHDOWN! SPLASHDOWN! Annie E hits the Splashdown out of NOWHERE.... AND THE COVER!!!

ONE....

TWO....

THREE!!!!!

DING DING DING

(Molly leaps into the air and whoops with delight as "She is Beautiful" by Andrew W.K. plays over the PA system.)

Funyon: Your winner... by pinfall at sixteen minutes and fourty eight seconds..... ANNIEEEE EEEECLECTIIIIIIC!!!!

Grand Slam: Annie E wins with a stunning Splashdown that seemed to come out of nowhere and finally take out the seemingly unstoppable Sacred!

Riley: This is a complete and total fluke! Sacred had this on numerous occasions...

Grand Slam: And couldn't pull out the win! Annie E was just resourceful enough and, I'll admit it, lucky to land the duke... wait, what is she doing???

(Annie Eclectic drops her hand which was raised by the referee and rolls to the outside. With a quick kiss to Molly she jogs over to the steel steps where her wooden Kendo sword is still propped up on. Grabbing it with one hand while holding her ribs with the other, she rolls into the ring and walks over to the still unconious Sacred. The referee comes up to stop her but she shoves him out of the way and sends a hard shot over the shoulder of Sacred! Annie grabs the sword with her free hand and raises the sword over her head... crashing the sword down over Sacred's hurt shoulder a second time. She motions at Funyon for his microphone, and Funyon quickly complies, tossing the amplifier into the ring where Annie picks it up.)

Annie: Jaaaaaaayyy Daaaaawwwwg! *hits Sacred again with the sword* Jaaaaayyyyyy Daaaaawwwwwg! *hits Sacred a fourth time* Do you see what I did to him? He beat me within an inch of my life... but I'm on top! I'm here and I won. You can't just beat me... you have to -kill- me to get a three count. And I hope you realize this.... because I'm coming for you. You have something I want... again. I got my precious Molly out of your clutches... but you have one more thing I need.... Your Hardcore Title. Watch out Jay Dawg, because as long as you have that belt... I'm going to make your life a LIVING HELL! Nobody.... NOBODY beats... the Hardcore Queen!!!

(With that said, Annie E drops the microphone to the mat and rolls out of the ring. Hitting the floor on the outside, she swings her kendo sword in a circle over her head, and then points it at the audience and whoops out a scream of joy at her victory. Molly joins her by her side as the crowd sings along to her theme music.)

Grand Slam: Was that a threat... or a promise from Annie E to Jay Dawg? Sacred is still out in the ring, having taken the full on attack of Annie's Splashdown! It looks like Annie is not done with Sacred, Jay Dawg, or the rest of Creative Control!

Riley: Bad career mistake! She may have won this battle, but no one wins the war except Stubby Pots McWeed. As long as he's Creative Control, they can never lose.

Grand Slam: We'll see, things are shaping up well, and we have much more mayhem for you on SWF STORM!

(cut to commercial)

August 3, 2002

“PICK UP THE PACE!”

Storm returns and the opening words of “(SIC)” by Slipknot are played, going straight into the vocals of the song as Renegade comes onto the ramp. Renegade looks at the ground before he lifts his head up and gives out a self-high five, coincidentally a pyro explodes, signaling the cue for Mark Stevens.

BOOM

Stevens: “Welcome back to S-W-F Storm! What a night we have had so far!”

Riley: “And it’s time for Renegade to be welcomed to the S-W-F!”

Stevens: “Jay Dawg is already in a bad mood tonight! He personally fired Matthew Kivell and is looking to take some more of his anger out now!”

Funyon: “The following contest is a non title match! Introducing first… he hails from NEW YORK CITY!!! He stands at Six feet Six inches and tips the scale at 260 pounds! He is the newest member of the SWF and the X-Force-Nine… RENEGADE!!!”

The Gadester slides into the ring and climbs the second turnbuckle to do another self-high five. He hops off the turnbuckle and shakes his hair in a headbanging fashion.

Stevens: “There he is. An imposing monster in the JL!”

Riley: “I hear he should have been bumped months ago but didn’t want to hack it in the S-W-F! Who can blame him if he’s going to face Jay Dawg!”

Stevens: “Word has it he was injured, or something. I'm not too clear on the history!"

Renegade stands in the ring, gently flexing/stretching his muscles, when all around him, on the rafters, hundreds of powerful fireworks explode. Half a dozen larger ones explode at the ramp and the lights go out...

"THIS

IS

MAH

HOUSE!!!"

Jay Dawg’s voice echoes through the arena follows shortly by Rammstein's "Du Haste" without the lyrics... The heavy beats thunder 360 degrees all over the arena. Jay Dawg steps through the curtains, walking slowly, his hair tied back and the title around his waist. He walks to the top of the ramp, and slowly raising his head. He looks straight at Renegade, although his eyes stay closed. He lowers his head again, although a smile without good intentions is now plastered on his face.

Stevens: “There he is, the man who just beat the hell out of a referee because he wants a piece of Thugg!”

Riley: "Damn ref couldn't get Thugg to come out. What a bitch."

Funyon: “And his opponent! He hails from Vancouver BC! He stands at Six feet Four inches and weighs in at 250 pounds! A member of Creative Control… and the current S-W-F Hardcore Champion! JAMIE ‘JAY DAWG’ DRAZON!!!”

JD enters the ring as soon as his name is announced. He unstraps his title and passes it to the ref, then places his hands on his thighs, and slowly cricks his neck. He steps back into the corner, and rests on the turnbuckles, confidently looking at Renegade.

Stevens: “Renegade is looking to prove himself and not to mention, that in the SJL, he was in a stable with Annie Eclectic called Havoc.”

Riley: “I heard that they parted rocky because Annie joined the Clan! So maybe Gade might be smart and shake Dawg’s hand!”

Renegade steps to the center of the ring, JD steps out of the corner, but pauses about a quarter of the way. He stares at Renegade, tilting his head slowly to his left, then his right. Renegade chuckles, looking at JD, then suddenly blasts out of his position, and spears Jay Dawg to the mat! JD hits the mat, his head bouncing hard and into the grasp of Renegade, as he starts to pummel him with punches.

Riley: “Or not!”

Stevens: “Renegade is taking it to Jay Dawg early on!”

Jay Dawg holds his hands up for guard, trying to block the furious Gade. Finally, he shoves him off and rolls to the outside. JD shakes his head, knocking out the cobwebs. Renegade steps backward in the ring, allowing some space. After a moment to reassure himself, JD hops onto the ring apron, and steps through the ropes. JD walks forward, stepping up to his larger adversary. Responding angrily, he shoves Renegade back a few steps. Renegade powers back, clipping his shoulder into Jay Dawg’s mid-section and scoops out his legs. Renegade once again starts to pummel JD with flailing rights and lefts.

Riley: “God damn these no DQ rules! Fists shouldn’t be legal anywhere!”

JD hooks onto Renegade’s left arm, and blocks the rights. Sliding his body out from under Renegade’s, he shifts his weight over top of the recent bumpee, trapping him in an armbar. JD rolls over, releasing the arm and applying a facelock. Renegade struggles, trying to hit JD but leverage and air supply is working against him. JD rolls over once more, grabbing Gade by the back of the hair, and pulls him up. Hanging onto the hair with his left, and swings with his right, slapping Renegade across the cheek.

Riley: “Ha ha ha! Show that insipid leaguer who’s boss!”

Steven: “Oh shut up! Jay Dawg is clearly disrespecting Renegade!”

He grabs a hold of Renegade’s wrist, Irish whip, no pulls Renegade back and feeds him the reverse end of his elbow. JD drops a quick elbow, connecting and making the pin, but Renegade presses him off with ease. JD gets to his feet, but Renegade grabs his legs and yanks them out, making a cover himself. JD presses Renegade off of him, rolls to his stomach as Renegade gets to one knee. JD swings around, driving his heel into the back of Gade’s knee. JD springs to his feet, but Renegade thrusts out, hammering JD with a clothesline.

Stevens: “Up goes JD! Down goes JD!”

JD sits back up, feeling the pain but ignoring it. Renegade pulls him all the way up and an Irish whip follows. JD bounces off the ropes, and is launched into orbit with a back body drop. Renegade turns around, ready to smack JD, but the hardcore champ crawls to the ropes, resting on the middle on. The Renegade masta runs to the ropes himself, rebounding hard he dashes for JD, leaps into the air and slams into the back of Jay Dawg. Renegade bounces JD up and down like he’s humping a dog, then grabs the bottom rope, applying the pressure as JD slowly chokes out.

Riley: “Damn this JL cheat!”

Stevens: “Shaddup.”

Renegade pulls JD out of the ropes and with a simple heave, tosses him to the corner. He drops to a knee, and rams his shoulder into Jay Dawg’s gut. Grabbing the middle ropes, he steps back, and thrusts his shoulder in again, one more time. JD rests on the corner, his breath knocked out of him. Renegade grabs him by the hair, pulling him into a facelock, and with a snap, he suplexes Jay Dawg over. JD bounces off the mat from the snap suplex and Renegade makes the first cover of the evening.

One…

Two…

JD easily gets his shoulder up.

Riley: “Silly fool. You know you won’t get the pin this early.”

Stevens: “Renegade is letting JD know he can pin him! I can see he has this match won in his brain!”

Riley: “I think Jay Dawg has images of a lesbian stealing his girlfriend in his brain.”

Renegade reaches down, grabbing Jay Dawg by the hair. Suddenly, the hardcore champ’s eyes snap open, and he clasps the throat of Renegade.

Riley: “Uh-oh! You are shit outta luck Renegade!”

Stevens: “We’ve seen this before, and it’s a sure sign that Jay Dawg is about to snap!”

JD gets to his feet, keeping the choke applied. He stares into Renegade, eyes piercing him as the bumpee struggles. Renegade grabs onto the wrist, and kicks JD in the knee, the ribs, Gade tries another kick but JD catches the leg with his spare arm. He drops the leg and grabs the throat with his other hand. With ease, he lifts the Renegade masta off his feet, his eyes roll into the back of his head as he continues to choke Gade.

Riley: “Hee hee hee! I love it!”

Renegade pulls out his fist, clenching his knuckles and a tiny blade pops out. Renegade punches Jay Dawg in the head with the blade, right between the eyes, and yanks down, ripping the skin open! JD has no choice but to drop Renegade. “ARRRRGH!!! MOTHER FUCKER!!!!” JD curses out in pain, as the blood starts to pour out of his head.

Riley: “Oh fuck! He just stabbed Jay Dawg!”

Stevens: “I saw! This must be important for Renegade!”

Renegade charges at JD, but the ref-firing bastard steps aside, grabbing Gade by the back of the head, and throws him over the top rope. JD exits the ring on the opposite side, by the announce table. Everyone nearby evacuates as JD reaches for the chairs. Not even bothering to fold them, he throws two of them into the ring. JD heads to the side of the ring and grabs the top of the stairs, lifting them up and throwing them into the ring as well.

Riley: “Whoo! It’s about to get hardcore!”

The blood slowly dripping down his chest, covering his face. JD wipes some of it away, and drops it to the mat. He walks around the ring, heading straight for his adversary. JD grabs Renegade’s bladed hand, taking it to the ring apron, and slams it hard into it. JD grabs a hold of the wrist and grabs a hold of the blade. With a yank, the blade comes out, and JD throws it away. He grabs Renegade by the hair, and once more, slaps him across the face.

Riley: “Heh heh! No good forty year old punk!”

Stevens: “I think he’s only thirty!”

Riley: “Ah right, you’re the grandpa in this league.”

JD tightens the grip on the hair by using his spare hand, pulls back, and slams him facefirst into the ring apron. Renegade smacks hard into the apron and stumbles away. JD grabs the head once more, and slams it hard, no, Renegade blocks. Renegade grabs the head of JD, and slams it into the ring apron. Renegade cocks his fist back and swings hard, connecting with a solid right hand that knocks JD back a step.

Stevens: “Even without the blade, this guy can punch!”

Renegade kicks him in the gut, doubling him over and applies a facelock, spins quickly, and slams JD hard into the mat with a neckbreaker. Renegade returns to his feet, standing over top of JD, he drops down with a quick leg drop, the bottom of the knee splattering some of the blood. Removing his leg from the bloody JD, he peals him off the mat and rolls him into the ring. Renegade rolls in after him and makes the cover.

One…

Two…

JD kicks out with a bit of strength, but rolls his head over as the blood drips out, shaking the cobwebs out.

Stevens: “Jay Dawg is showing some signs of tiredness! Which is very surprising this early!”

Riley: “You get stabbed in the head and not be losing the fight!”

Renegade pulls JD up, and feeds him with a stiff right hand to the forehead. The cut widens, as the blood drips down Jay Dawg some more. Renegade grabs the steps that were thrown in and places them beside himself. He grabs JD, and with a hard Irish whip, throws him into the corner. JD bounces hard into the corner and stumbles on out, right into Renegade, who has stepped onto the stairs. He grabs onto the ponytail, and yanks him onto the steps. Renegade steps onto the top of the steps, and pulls JD with him, capturing the leg and neck together. Fans all over gasp as Renegade hugs Jay Dawg’s leg and neck in the middle of the ring, flexing backward, and launches Jay Dawg over his head with the head and leg capture suplex! JD lands with his legs hitting the bottom rope and sits right up, only to lie back down from the awesome suplex. “HOLY SHIT!!” chants start up as the crowd is into the match now.

Stevens: “OH MY GOD!!! HE KILLED JAY DAWG!!”

Riley: “You are so not funny!”

Stevens: “Renegade with that jaw dropping suplex off the steps, that has gotta be all!”

Renegade rolls over from his not so pleasant landing, crawling over to JD, pulling him back and draping himself over for the cover.

ONE…

JD gets his foot on the rope.

Stevens: “It’s no DQ!”

TWO…

Riley: “NOOOO!!!”

THREE…NO!! JD gets his shoulder up and automatically regrets it!

Stevens: “He kicked out!”

Renegade presses up in disbelief and pulls up JD then scoops him up. He drops JD onto the steps with a bit of power, then looks for a weapon. Spotting the two chairs, he folds them up, leaving one on the ground. He grabs the one chair’s legs, and lifts it high in the air, thrusting forward. JD suddenly snaps his eyes open, looking at Renegade ready to beat his cranium, and kicks the leg up with massive force! The foot connects with the chair, knocking it back into the face of Gade!

Riley: “BONG!!!”

JD slides off the steps and jabs Gade in the chin. He pulls back and swings hard with a massive right hook, smashing Gade in the jaw. The blow drops Renegade, and JD pulls him to a belly-to-belly, lifting up, pivoting, and slams him with a UFC belly-to-belly suplex. JD kicks the set of steps out of the way, and grabs onto the two chairs. He takes a look at Renegade and tosses the one chair in the opposite corner, and the other one, where the steps used to be.

Stevens: “Jay Dawg has something planned here!”

JD grabs onto the leg of Renegade, and spins around, applying a spinning toehold. He shakes his hair back, allowing it to flow along his shoulders. With a sick, blood-soaked smile, he points Renegade’s head toward the chairs, and rolls forward. Renegade flips off from the mat and slams back first into the chairs as JD rolls to his feet from the whiplash powerbomb! JD keeps the toehold on, and once more, opens his eyes, grinning like a masochist, allowing each and every fan to see. He rolls forward once more, Renegade rolls off the mat, lifted high into the hair, and slammed back first into the second chair set up.

Riley: “That has gotta hurt!”

Stevens: “JD is methodically wearing down Renegade to the state he is at! A good strategy!”

JD hangs onto the toehold, and hooks his arms into it. He dives forward, releasing the leg from the grapevine and continues to hook it, landing on top for the cover.

ONE…

TWO…

THR…NO… Renegade kicks out even with the chair underneath of him.

Stevens: “And a close call for the Renegade masta!”

JD pulls the chair out from underneath of Renegade, and stands it up. He grabs onto a second chair, and places about halfway from the center of the ring and the turnbuckle. JD pulls Renegade off the mat, and lifts him onto his shoulders, standing him up on the chair. JD passes the other chair, and stands into the opposite corner.

Stevens: “Whatever Jay Dawg has planned here, it can’t be good for Renegade!”

Riley: “I don’t think it will be good for Jay Dawg either!”

JD snaps his head up, letting the hair flow through and the eyes close. He runs forward, not sure himself of what he is doing, as he waves his arms, steps onto the chair and springs off straight for Renegade. But the Gadormasturbator catches him in mid air! “OH SHIIIIIIIITTT!!” is all Jay Dawg can say as Renegade slams him off the chair with the spinebuster of doom! Renegade drops, landing on his ass on the chair, and looks down at JD in confusion, as the crowd goes insane.

Stevens: “WHAT A SIDEWALK SLAM!!!”

Riley: “Ok… I think Jay Dawg has had too many drinks, because that was insane!”

Renegade falls off of the chair and onto the mat, draping his arm over JD for the cover.

ONE…

TWO…

THREE…NO!! JD gets his shoulder off the ground by about a half inch!

Stevens: “Jesus murphy, these falls are getting too close!”

Renegade gets up, slowly he reaches down and grabs the two legs of JD. He sticks his leg through and grapevines both the legs over his.

Stevens: “Awesome plan by Renegade. JD barely has any fight in him. The Rage will finish him off for good!”

Renegade starts to twist, but suddenly JD shows his signs of life, and reaches up, grabbing onto Renegade’s hair, and pulls him down, rolling him up with an inside cradle despite the legs being tied.

ONE…

TWO…

THRE… NO!! Renegade breaks the package with the legs still grapevined. JD lands on his stomach just as Renegade gets to his feet. Renegade squats down and applies the sharpshooter. “ARRGH!!” JD shouts out in pain, pushing up desperately trying to relieve the pressure.

Stevens: “What a reversal! But if you notice, Renegade does not have the anklelock set up into it, for now JD can survive, but how long!?”

Riley: “Forever because he is the toughest SOB the SWF has ever had!”

Stevens: “That sounds so familiar. That and JD bleeding from the head with a sharpshooter… We are so going to get sued.”

JD grabs onto the bottom rope, but of course, those fucking rope breaks don’t count. “AHHHH!!!” is all he can shout out, as the blood continues to drip. JD grabs onto the middle rope, pulling himself upward as Renegade tries desperately to pull the leg higher. JD grabs onto the top rope with the one hand, following closely with the second hand and getting his arms over top. He lets his body rest, even though Renegade continues to pull.

Stevens: “Jay Dawg has released most of the tension!”

Renegade looks at his leverage aspect, and finally decides to let go, allowing JD to just lie limp in the ropes. Renegade looks back at the standing chairs, and knocks one back to the other. He pulls JD off the ropes and stands him onto the chair, then applies a vertical suplex setup. He looks back into the corner to get a massive pop, as he snaps backward. CRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACCCCCCCCCCCCCCCKKKKKKKKKKKKK!!! That is the sound of Jay Dawg’s back going in and out of place from the vicious impact of the turnbuckles! JD sits onto the top turnbuckle from the momentum, but quite easily falls over, letting his body collapse to the outside. SMACK!! JD lands on his front and tries to lift his head up but fails miserably and lies limp.

Stevens: “Oh… my… god.”

Riley: “That can’t feel good.”

Renegade rests on the ropes, exhausted. He looks around the ring, the two chairs, standing, and the set of steps. He shakes his head as he steps outside once more, pulling JD into the ring and makes another cover.

ONE…

TWO…

THREE…NOITISOHSOMOTHERFUCKINGCLOSE!!!

Stevens: “What a stubborn son of a bitch!”

Riley: “Strangler no sold a car last PPV, and you are complaining about this! DIE!!!”

Renegade can’t believe JD kicked out, slowly standing up, he waits for JD to arise. Holding his arm out, begging him to get to his feet. JD finally arises and gets a kick to the gut. Renegade applies a ¾ nelson facelock, but JD shoves him into the ropes. Renegade bounces back to receive a kick to the ribs, JD applies a facelock and falls back for the JD DDT. No, Renegade stays still, allowing JD to slam himself to his back. Renegade grabs the legs once more and grapevines them quite quickly. He twists over, once more applying the Rage in the center of the ring. Instead of going for the anklelock, Gade holds his arm up for the crowd to pop.

Stevens: “It’s locked on dead center in the ring! There’s no escape! Renegade has this match won and the crowd loves it!”

Riley: “Come on Jay Dawg! Hang on!”

JD waves his hands, telling the ref he’s not tapping. He claws at his face as the blood drips down, but reaches back at the legs of Gade.

Stevens: “This is a little ironic. Jay Dawg used the sharpshooter as a finisher a couple of times, so has Renegade.”

JD suddenly grips onto the ankle of Renegade, and that grin that signals sadism once again returns. JD yanks on the ankle, and the shocked Renegade loses his balance. JD pulls harder and the law of gravity takes Renegade to the mat. JD slowly stands up, applying a sharpshooter of his own.

Stevens: “No way!”

Riley: “Suh weet!”

JD grins from ear to ear with the hold, but lets go quickly. He stumbles away, holding his back in pain, as Renegade gets to his feet. JD walks over to him, applying a facelock, and snaps back, driving him into the mat with the Evenflow version of the JD DDT! Renegade’s head snaps into the mat, and he rolls to his back as JD makes the cover.

ONE…

Riley: “WHEE!! It’s all over!”

Stevens: “What is it with Jay Dawg busting out these old school moves!?”

Riley: “Maybe it’s so well received by all his fans!”

TWO…

The four Jay Dawg fans in the front row mark out like someone who really marks out for Jay Dawg.

THREE…NOTHATBASTARDRENEGADEGETSHISSHOULDERUPATTHELASTSECOND!!!

JD sits up in disbelief, looking down at Renegade who lies still. JD looks around him, and spots the stairs. He pulls them back into the center of the ring. Then grabs onto the two chairs. He places one beside the stairs and the other one right beside it. He pulls Renegade over to the stairs, grabbing him by the back of the head, and forces him to meet the steel. Renegade snaps up, looking at JD with the crazy eye, and grabs his head, smacking it into the stairs. Renegade smacks it again, and one more time. JD drops to one knee as Renegade continues to smash his face into the steel. SMASH SMASH SMASH!!! JD drops to both knees, as Renegade smacks his head into the steel one last time.

Stevens: “And once more, Renegade fights back!”

Renegade pulls JD off the steps, blood left over the top in red puddles. Renegade kicks him in the ribs, and applies the ¾ nelson facelock. But JD pushes him away. JD thrusts his leg out hard, looking for the painful Thai Roundhouse, but Renegade ducks. He grabs the back of Jay Dawg’s hair, and pulls him into an inverted facelock. JD swings hard with the fists, hitting Renegade while upside down with some sharp jabs. He breaks free from the inverted facelock, and heads for the ropes. Renegade grabs him by the back of the pants, and pulls him into a waistlock. JD struggles before swinging both his elbows backward, connecting squarely in the ribs of Renegade, breaking the waistlock. He leaps up in the air, and spins 180 degrees, smashing Renegade in the jaw with the Sweet Tooth Loosening! Renegade tilts his head to the side, collapsing onto the steps. JD lands on his feet, clenching his fists as his face declares signs of insanity.

Riley: “GO JAY DAWG!!”

Stevens: “I think he has snapped!”

JD steps up onto the stairs, above the motionless Renegade. He pulls him onto the steps and into a standing headscissors.

Riley: “Oh shit!”

Stevens: “Oh my god. He’s going to piledrive Renegade onto the steps!”

JD powers Renegade up off the steps, and let him lie upside down, blood dripping into his crotch. JD suddenly pivots, looking down at the chairs. His eyes brighten and the pupils widen. He leaps forward…

Stevens/Riley: “HOLY SHIT!!!”

The crowd gasps…

-AND JAY DAWG PILEDRIVES RENEGADE THROUGH THE TWO STANDING CHAIRS!!! The steel collapses from the weight and JD looks on, while Renegade’s head hits the mat, and bounces up onto the chair, only to roll off it. JD looks forward toward the ramp and SmarkTron, smiling at what he just accomplished. The crowd lashes out with the negative heat, feeling the worst for Renegade. He finally rolls over and makes the cover, a hook of the leg for insurance.

ONE…

TWO…

No he kicks out… ok just kidding.

THREEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!

The ref calls for the bell as Du Haste hits the speakers. JD continues to smile, some would say he is not all there.

Funyon: “The winner of this match via pinfall! JAY DAWG!!!”

JD wipes the blood away from his face once more and stands to his feet.

Stevens: “Did you see that piledriver!? I hope Renegade is ok!”

Riley: “Pfft! You didn’t say that when Jay Dawg was suplexed into the turnbuckle!”

The ref hands Jay Dawg his hardcore title and the champion raises it above his head. Pointing at it for the crowd to see.

Stevens: “This was one of the more brutal matches we saw, and it wasn’t for the hardcore title!”

Riley: “I know. It’s like cuhrazy or something!”

JD holds his title, pointing to the camera, then back at it. He confidently nods his head, trying to establish that he owns the joint.

Stevens: “A little post match celebration by Jay Dawg there!”

JD turns to Renegade, who is trying to move. He smiles and gently taps his title. Finally leaving the ring, holding his back as he walks up the ramp. He holds three fingers up, smiling as he does it.

Stevens: “Jay Dawg is happy about something.”

Riley: “That’s three X-Club-Niners that he’s taken down!”

Stevens: “Maybe three more to go?”

Riley: "There ain't no party like an X-Club Party!"

Stevens: "Oh TAG!!"

And with that… we go to a commercial.

August 3, 2002

The night breeze in Trenton, New Jersey sways through the parking lot, where the scene is set. We approach the parking lot, and we zoom in on a familiar figure, sitting atop one of the SWF's trucks. He lies there, quiet, silent, motionless, staring at the night sky. The camera approaches the figure, but he sits up, and angrily jumps off the hood. He walks off in a rage, storming into the corridors of the Sovereign Band Arena. The figure is unmistakenly Erek Taylor, the current SWF ICTV Champion.

Erek never looks back at the camera, which he tries to get away from. He walks past dozens of people, and past the cafeteria- when another man exits. They collide, Erek knocked back a few steps. The HF Prince stands his ground and looks to the perp, a 6'9 angry, angry man: The Boston Strangler!

The crowds are hesitant, watching as Strangler begins to speak, "Well well, Mr. Erek Taylor. Mr. High Flying Prince. The guy who couldn't win a match without cheating. I hope you're enjoying your victory, little man."

"This isn't the time, Strangler."

"What? Just because you flew off a giant TV, just because you jumped off a bus, just because you won the match, all of a sudden you don't have time?!"

"Hey! What the f*ck is your problem?!"

"My problem is you. Time and time again, I'm so close to grabbing my ICTV belt, but no, you get your partners to help you after you told me that no M7 were allowed!"

"Strangler, you are a fucking moron. Don't try to twist history. We all know you are one big angry man, but history is much bigger than you. I don't have the time for you. I've got bigger things to worry about."

"Bigger things? There's nobody else who's taller, bigger, and stronger in this whole building than I am."

Strangler grabs Erek by the collar, and begins to measure the small flyer up.

"What the hell do you want, Strangler? You want me to run circles around you again?"

"You know exactly what I want. I want another shot. This time, just me and you. Nobody else."

"Hmmmm.... let me think about it....."

"Good, that's all I wanted to hear."

"Okay, I thought about it. No."

"No? No? Did you just say 'no'?"

"Actually I said that you were a stupid moron who thinks "The Cosby Show" is still the #1 program on television. But I guess you can translate that into 'no'."

"Wh-"

"LOOK! A CAR!"

Strangler jumps, and quickly scans the area, and finds nothing. His anger reaches unmeasurable heights and he quickly swings his fist blindly back, hoping to catch Erek by the face. But when he turns, the HF Prince has already disappeared into the hallways and went on his way.

August 3, 2002

We return to SWF Storm just as the arena’s lights are abruptly cut off, and the spotlights near the entrance ramp begin to flicker rapidly, creating a blurred effect for anyone walking through them. Front Line Assembly’s “Retribution (Front 242 Remix)” hits the sound system as Funyon begins to announce the Clansman’s entry.

“Ladies and gentlemen, introducing first…he hails from Phoenix, Arizona…weighing in at two hundred and forty-eight pounds, representing the Clan in his SWF debut…SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIILENT!”

White fog billows out from behind the curtains as the SmarksTron flickers to life. A rapid succession of footage showing Silent hitting various Demonstar Drivers flashes onscreen, in time with the pulse-pounding beat of the music. After every Demonstar clip, the Chinese character for “Retribution” flashes, two stories tall, on the ‘Tron. Once the audience has had a few moments to grow accustomed to the blistering pace of the lights and the music, Silent makes his entrance through the fog at the top of the ramp, coat trailing behind him. He walks slowly down the ramp, occasionally stopping to stare at a particularly venomous or rambunctious fan before continuing down to the ring...

“Welcome back, everyone, and you’re just in time to witness the debut of the Silent One to the SWF!” yells Riley over the cacophony of boos and jeers being hurled at the rookie as he ascends the ring apron, a strange smile on his face despite the fans’ obvious distaste for him.

“The audience here seems to be antagonistic towards Silent simply based on his association with the Clan…not an altogether unsound idea,” notes “Grand Slam” Mark Stevens. “After his assault on El Luchadore Magnifico at the end of the WarGames match at Ground Zero, the Carnival has taken a bit of an issue with the rookie Clansman, and Chris Raynor has volunteered to take him on this evening. But given the injuries Raynor sustained in the WarGames match…I’m not sure that was a wise idea.”

Silent slides deftly into the ring as “Retribution” begins to fade away and the arena’s lights come back up. He hands the referee his cane and ties his hair back before sliding his coat off with a slight shrug of his shoulders and sending it spiraling towards the announcer’s table. The Silent One reclines on the ropes in an arrogant fashion as he awaits his opponent’s arrival.

Riley snorts derisively as the Slaughterer hands his trenchcoat and cane to a ringside attendant. “Mark, I think Raynor knows when he can and can’t wrestle. If he shows up tonight, he can wrestle. It’s really very simple…”

The lights go out. After a brief pause, "Electra Made me Blind" by Everclear starts playing, and during the opening riff, white lights begin blinking all around the stage.

“Introducing second…hailing from Baton Rouge, Louisiana…weighing in at two hundred fifty pounds…representing the Midnight Carnival, he is one-half of the SWF Tag Team champions….CHRIS RAYNORRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!”

After the opening riff, Art Alexakis screams "YEA!" and right then, blue pyros go off around the stage, the lights come up, the audience roars, and once the singing starts, Chris Raynor emerges…well, it’s actually more of a limp that carries him out from backstage. He removes his jersey and throws it to the crowd, revealing heavily taped ribs to match his gauzed arm.

“Good God, look at Raynor! It’s amazing that he’s able to walk…well, limp out here under his own power! He’s not in any condition to wrestle a normal match, and if what we saw at Ground Zero is any indication, that diagnosis goes double for the Slaughterer!”

”Oh, quit your whining, Mark. If the man can walk, the man can wrestle. Anything that happens to him in that ring is completely legal and we’re not responsible for any of it, per the wonderful little contracts the front office makes everybody sign. Just kick back, relax, and enjoy the beating. Or the show.” Riley sighs contentedly and leans back a little in his chair, a peaceful smile on his face. “Whatever. You got any popcorn, Mark?”

“Riley, you even sicker than I thought if you really derive that much pleasure from the…the carnage that is about to ensue here. Damn it, the man is a friend of mine, and I refuse to just sit here and watch him be beaten within an inch of his life!”

Apparently, somebody else in the locker room shares Grand Slam’s sediments.

The house lights drop out as the hovering, haunting beginning of “Battleflag” by the Lo-Fidelity All-Stars starts to float through the arena. The SmarksTron fires up, providing the only source of illumination in the form of gray silhouettes fading in and out, silhouettes of a man with his arms outstretched, a man holding a microphone, and a man leaning on a lamppost. A light beat drops in, and the voice of Edwin MacPhisto rises up from the back as he approaches the entrance ramp…but his usually flippant pre-match antics are noticeably absent, his voice rather somber and emotional...

“Excuse me, ladies and gentlemen, but there seems to have been the slightest bit of a misunderstanding here tonight. You see, folks, my mate Chris isn’t quite up to snuff this evening, and I don’t think that a match with the bloody Silent One is the way for him to start the, ah, healing process, if you would.” The SWF champion appears through the curtains, drawing a large pop as the SmarksTron puts him on display…but not as large as usual, for some reason. The crown prince of flash and panache seems to notice it, too, his eyes darting quickly to the left, then to the right, before he continues his appeal to his stablemate.

“Now, Chris, you know me. I’m not much for backing down, and I know that you aren’t either, are ya, Caveman?” Edwin nudges his friend in the ribs, drawing a small wince from his fellow Carnie and a gigantic “CHRIS…SMASH!” chant from the crowd. “Right, I didn’t think so. But Raynor…mate…” Edwin places a hand on his companion’s shoulder, and the concern in his eyes shows clearly over the camera. “I am asking you…as a friend…not to walk down that ramp tonight. I know you can beat Silent…” the champion pauses, allowing the cheers of the fans to fade slightly. MacPhisto smiles a little, trying to maintain his trademark happy-go-lucky attitude, but…with Silent in the ring and his tag team partner’s arm in a sling…the mask is not quite as convincing as it usually is.

“I don’t believe this. The SWF Heavyweight champion is asking his friend to run away from a fight. Isn’t that illegal? Can’t we strip him of the belt or something?”

”Riley, shut up and let the man talk, huh?”

“Oh, just because he’s your friend…”

”Riley. Shut. Up.”

“It seems these people know it too, my friend,” continues the crown prince of flash and panache. “But look at you! Your ribs, your arm…you’re not exactly at your best right now. And if you’re going to get in the ring with him…” Edwin points down at the Silent One to emphasize the point. “With…with Silent, Raynor, you have to be one hundred and ten percent. Wait a week. Wait a few days. Jesus, man, wait until tomorrow, if you really feel like you’ve got to do this, but please. Do not…walk down…that ramp.”

Raynor looks at his friend, obviously moved by his concern…and something in the crown prince’s face rings true, for his tag-team partner turns (a little reluctantly) and heads back through the curtains to a surprising amount of applause…applause that can’t quite drown out a few “boos” here and there.

There aren’t many….but they are there.

“Well, well, well! Looks like the Carnival is running scared tonight!”

“I hardly think that Edwin MacPhisto and Chris Raynor are scared of a rookie, Riley. It just isn’t a very wise thing to be participating in a wrestling match with an injury like Raynor’s. Even you can’t argue that.”

”Well, if the injury is so terrible, Mark, why didn’t Raynor just stay home? Why did Edwin have to come out here in front of sixty thousand people and ask him not to wrestle tonight?”

“Chris Raynor can be quite stubborn at times, and I think Edwin is just looking out for his friend…” But truth be told, Mark Stevens doesn’t sound so sure.

“Wait a minute, Stevens, the Silent One has a microphone!”

The Clan’s newest –or maybe oldest?- recruit raises the mic to his lips, and whispers, almost too softly to be heard…

“Edwin…”

The champion turns, his eyes a little wider than, perhaps, he would like, as he faces the Slaughterer in the ring…

“MacPhisto…” he whispers. “You cannot…protect…them all.”

“Well, Silent, my boy, that might well be true,” grins the champion…but his eyes do not smile as he focuses on the Clansman in the ring. “But I’ll be damned and damned again if I’m not going to try, you crazy son-of-a-bitch.”

The sounds of “Retribution” surround the two adversaries briefly before Edwin and Raynor head back to the locker room…

The cameras follow Raynor and Edwin to the backstage area as they approach the Carnival’s locker room. “Trust me, Raynor, you made the right call just now,” Edwin reassures his friend. “Silent’s a bloody lunatic; you and Z and Mag and I will go thrash him with a variety of pandas and confetti and other Carnival-like things as soon as we’re all healed up and…” They open the door to the locker room….

“Wait a minute. Where the bloody hell has Z got to?”

August 3, 2002

…and one sudden jump-cut later, we’re back in the Sovereign Band Arena! Still in the ring, The Silent One shakes out his head at Edwin’s perceived cowardace. Grumbling, he heads outside of the ring to gather up his coat and cane, as Mark Stevens ruffles through some papers.

“Well… with Edwin coming out to talk Raynor out of fighting Silent, I guess that means we can just cut right to the main ev--”

“Like a coward, Mark!” Riley takes a moment to interrupt like a good little brat. “Edwin came out here, obviously knowing that Silent was ready to dismantle Raynor—DESPITE the fact that Raynor *wanted* to wrestle, WarGames not withstanding—And protected him like a coward!”

“That’s… nonsense, Bobby.” Mark doesn’t sound full of conviction. “Edwin knew that Raynor was really hurting after WarGames. It would’ve been a completely unfair playing field! Edwin was just looking out for Chris’s well being!”

“Bah.” Riley dismisses with a wave of his hand. “Like I said before, if he’s SO injured, why didn’t he just stay home, hunh?”

Sighing, Mark decides to ignore Bobby“Well, regardless, we’ve got an action packed main event coming up, in just a few moments!” Mark moves on, trying to sound exited. “We’ll be deciding the second number one contender to the World Heavyweight Title, which--” For the second time in only a few moments, Mark is interrupted.

But not by Bobby.

With the sudden blast of guitars, Faith No More’s “Epic” rocks Trenton! Silent, who has taken his sweet time milling his way to the bottom of the ramp, looks up, somewhat amused. With a simple toss of the black curtain, a ball of blue hair and green camouflage emerges from behind.

The crowd, simply put, explodes.

----------

“We better find him, Chris.” The voice of Edwin MacPhisto speaks at Chris Raynor. “I fear for what he might do.”

“What? Why?” Raynor blinks.

“Just… because of something I talked to him about last night. I think he’s suddenly become foolhardy. Now, c’mon.”

In the Carnival locker room, Raynor nods in return at Edwin, before following him to the door with a slight limp. On the way out, he glances at the monitor… and does a double-take.

“Uh, Edwin? I think I just found him.”

----------

“Well, I’ll be damned.” Mark muses. “Despite not having any booking tonight, Z’s managed to show up in own hometown!”

“FanTASTIC.” Bobby oozes sarcasm. “The peanut gallery. Y’know, seeing as he’s probably just going to do a silly dance or spout off bad limericks or whatever, you’d think he at least have the decency to wait until Silent’s *left*.”

“Well, you never know…” Mark thinks aloud. “Z might actually be out here… too…”

Pause.

Silent.

The Clan.

Z.

The Midnight Carnival.

Mark puts two-and-two together pretty fast, doesn’t he?

“…too? Too what, Mark?” Bobby, however, remains a little slow.

“…no… he can’t be. Z isn’t *that* stupid.”

Mark turns a suddenly worried look up to Z, who speaks into the microphone as ‘Epic’ fades away. “Ladies and gentlmen… let me introduce to you…”

“The man of the hour!” Z strikes a pose.

“The king of the tower!” Z strikes a heroic pose.

“Too sweet to be sour!” Z strikes a heroically stupid pose.

“AND… *your* hometown hero!” The pops funky monkey, as Silent shakes his head at the rather pitiful display, walking off to the left of the entry ramp.

“See, Mark? What’d I tell you?” Bobby nods knowingly.

“Right, Bobby. Well, I suppose coming out and acting like a fool in his home town is better than the alterative.” Mark sounds somewhat… relieved?

“ZeeeeeeeohhhhHHWHOAH!” Z’s rapid progression of sound causes more than a few people to blink. “Hold on there, Someone Very Quiet! This man has a proposition for you!”

----------

Eyes glued to the monitor, Edwin and Raynor exchange a look.

“You don’t think… he’s doing THAT, are you?” Chris asks.

“I hope not, Chris. I seriously hope not.” Edwin answers, giving Raynor a lopsided look before turning back to the monitor. “It’s what I was afraid of…”

----------

“…other alternative? Mark, are you trying to tell me that Z is thinking of *challenging* Silent? What a ridiculous notion!”

On the stage, Z’s expression falls far from ridiculous, as regards Silent, standing to the right of the ramp. “Silent… you’re right. Edwin can’t protect all of the Carnies. Especially the ones who don’t WANT his protection.” Z takes a deep breath, trying to sound as brazen as possible. “Silent… Raynor couldn’t face you tonight because he was hurting from WarGames. Because he was injured. Well, you know what!? I’m… not!”

At the desk, Mark’s face falls. “Oh, dear.”

Bobby, on the other hand, has a mile-wide grin. “Joy. This ought’ to be good, Mark.”

Again, Z takes a deep breath, summoning up all of his courage. “THEREFORE… Silent, on Smarkdown… I challenge YOU.”

----------

“Bloody hell. I knew it, I KNEW he was going to go do something silly.” Edwin’s brow furrows, as he suddenly jumps off of the couch. “I have to go out there, Chris. I have to stop him from--”

“Wait! Edwin…” Raynor puts a hand on Edwin’s shoulder. “It’s *Z*. He’s gotta have something planned. Besides, even if he IS serious… it’s Silent. You honestly think he’s going to accept this kind of challenge?”

----------

From those in the New Jersey crowd who are well aware of Silent’s work in the JL, this elects some gasps. And from those who are full aware of Z and his tendencies, a bit of laughter. On the floor, Silent twirls the microphone still in his free hand. He looks at Z for a moment, then brings it up to his lips for…

“You’re joking, right?” Z’s face falls. “You… Z, was it? You’re just a child, Z. You aren’t worth my time. Maybe when you’re older.”

With that, Silent lowers the mic, continuing to the back at a brisk pace. On the stage, Z balls up his fist and stares at the ground, his brow furrowed. “Just a kid…? You’re going to run away from me… because you think I’m not worth you’re time. Don’t run away from me, Silent…” Z looks up, walking to the edge of the stage…

“DON’T RUN AWAY FROM ME!”

Silent stops, looks up, and scoffs, as Z slides down onto his stomach, head leaning over the edge to better face ‘The Slaughterer’.

“You think I’m just a *kid,* Silent!? A kid!? Fine. Think that way. But you know what? You wanna’ take out a Carnie? You want to get to Edwin? Fine! I’m right here! I’m throwing myself at you! I may not know all the details… but I see the way you’ve hurt Edwin. You want to get to him, you go through me first. I’m not stand around and act afraid because you’re evil or from the Clan or ambig… ambog… uh, because I don’t know anything about you!” Z mentally bites his tongue for messing that up, but re-focuses on Silent and continues. “I don’t care how we do it… but we go on Smarkdown! Cage match! Hardcore match! Tables match! Hell in the Cell! 200 Light Bulbs Match! It doesn’t matter! Bring the rest of the Clan if you want! Bring your dog! Your parents! Anyone! If Raynor can’t face you… and Edwin doesn’t want to face you… I will. Hell, Edwin might even be afraid of you, Silent…” Z pauses, staring right into Silent’s piercing blue eyes… He ulps, and takes a deep breath…

“…but I’m not.”

Z’s hometown crowd pops for their little man standing up to the big bad Clannie, although some who know better fear him being over his head. However, Mark Stevens audibly sighs, while Bobby Riley breaks into laughter.

“Didja’ hear that, Mark! I think Z’s finally cone completely off his rocker!” Bobby continues to cackle! “Challenging Silent… what a hoot! He’s knock his block off!”

“Sadly, Bobby, I have to agree with you. What’s gotten *in* to Z?”

Silent himself is slightly taken aback by this ‘child’s’ audacity. Or is that foolishness? Pulling the mic back up, Silent and Z lock eyes again. “Z… you are either stupidly brave, or very phony tough. Reconsider?”

Z stares at Silent, blocking out the sounds of the crowd, his mind awash with thoughts. Is he really that brave? Is facing someone as dangerous as Silent worth it? For standing up for the Carnies? …for Edwin?

…it’s what’s right. Isn’t it?

“No.”

The hint of a smirk crawls across Silent’s face. “Very well then. I accept. Smarkdown, you and I.” Silent’s smirk slowly grows into a rather sadistic grin. “Hardcore rules. It’s your funeral.”

Silent sets down the mic and walks all the way into the back, leaving Z lying on stage, staring intently.

----------

In the Carnie locker room, Edwin recoils in his seat, pulling it his hear, while Raynor adorns the fashionable ‘Wide Mouth Gape’ pose.

“No going to accept, eh Chris?” Edwin gives Raynor a look mixed with concern, frustration and anger.

“Well… uh… I guess not.” Raynor returns a stunned look.

Edwin groans, then sighs, leaning forward into his lap.

“Oh, Z…”

----------

“Well damn, Mark! Silent IS going to knock Z’s block off! And he didn’t even need to call anyone out or set up any traps or ANYTHING!” Bobby bouncing in his chair, disturbingly giddy. “This is going to be even BETTER than Raynor, Mark! Z won’t even put up a tenth of the fight, plus there’s going to be WEAPONS!”

“You’re disgusting, Bobby.”

“GREAT!”

“Well… anyway…” Stevens sighs, “With whatever’s gotten into Z, he and Silent are going to face in a hardcore match on Smarkdown!” Shills Mark, with less than total enthusiasm. “But next, the main event! Stay tuned!”

As the camera fades to commercial, Z gathers himself up and heads toward the back, before something suddenly occurs to him…

“Silent and I are going to face on Smarkdown in a hardcore match. …what the hell did I just DO?”

August 3, 2002

SWF Storm returns from commercial to a completely sold out Sovereign Band Arena, the loud blaring of “You Were” signaling the last of the lumberjacks getting down to ringside, the Balancer and the Reaper walking slowly around to the side of the right to the left of the announcers. We now cut to a shot of said announcers.

“Welcome back to SWF Stooooorm!” booms Mark Stevens as the crowd waits in anticipation for what should be a great main event. “We’re five days after Ground Zero, and the classic pay-per-view that was, and two of the men in the main event tonight are going to be feeling some injuries, to put it lightly.”

“This is a bunch of crap!” complains Riley. “My boy, Chris Wilson, was put through hell on Sunday, even though my favorite stable of evil, the Magnificent Seven won. Also hurting, though I’m not really giving a damn, is poor Erek Taylor who needed X Force 9 interference and Freefall FROM ON TOP OF THE SMARKTRON to defeat Strangler on Sunday. Fallout picked up an ICTV title shot in the opening bout, defeating among others, the final competitor tonight, Lerrin Breggan. Prediction, Mark?”

Mark shakes his head as the X Force 9 lumberjacks mill around in front of the table. “Not a clue. This is elimination, so it will last longer, and that could really affect Wilson and Erek towards the end, so if you put a gun to my head-“

“Which is possible…”

“-I’d say Breggan, especially after his performance last Smarkdown against our champion. Well, it’s Funyon time ladies and gentlemen!”

The distinguished announcers stands in the ring as the lights go out, Victory’s “Do or Die” beginning to play over the sound system as the crowd rises to its feet as a huge explosion of pyro lights up the stage, booing once again as the man trying to make the SWF his kingdom stands in the center of the stage. Lerrin Breggan slowly walks down the ramp, ignoring the obviously dislike of the fans.

“Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is a four man elimination lumberjack match for the number one contendership to the SWF Title! First, making his way to the ring, hailing from Cincinnati, Ohio, and weighing in at 285 pounds, he represents Creative Control…LERRRRIN BREGAAAAAAN!”

As Lerrin reaches the bottom of the ramp, he pauses as Jay Dawg and Sacred walk up to him, giving him some last minute advice as he slowly nods, an intense look on his chiseled face. The lights suddenly turn into a show themselves as “Victory” cuts out for Trust Company’s “Downfall.” The crowd stops it booing and immediately begins to shower love as flames begin to build, finally setting off in a gigantic explosion of pyro, leaving the ICTV Champion and High Flying Prince in its wake, a big smile on his face as he begins to stride down to the ring. Only then can you notice the fact he’s walking quite a bit slower than his usual gait, Sunday still affecting him.

“Next, making his way to the ring from Anaheim, California, and weighing in at 185 pounds, he represents X Force 9 and your ICTV Champion..EREK TAAAAAYLOR!”

As Taylor slides into the ring and hands his title to the official, Tod and Annie give him a thumbs up and clap while the Boston Strangler’s deathly glare never wavers. The fantastic light show cuts out suddenly as the arena drops back into darkness, “Scum of the Earth” beginning to play. As the guitar really begins to rif, yet another pyro explosion rocks New Jersey, followed by a faint green light playing over everyone at ringside. The crowd reaches its feet and gives a loud, yet mixed reaction, to the Nuclear Weapon as he slowly begins to walk down to the ring, Clan robe flowing.

“Now making his way to the ring, hailing from Phoenix, Arizona, and weighing in at 185 pounds as well, he represents the Clan and is the number one contender to the ICTV Championship…FALLOOOOOOUT!”

Fallout stands in the center of the ring, sharing a very slight nod with his master and Clan brethren standing outside the ring before raising his arms in the air, a towering burst of green pyro shooting up into the air. Fallout turns and disrobes, staring at Erek Taylor, the man whose title he yearns. The mixed reaction of the crowd loses any sort of mixed appeal as Rob Zombie cuts out and a soft female voice begins to coo, signaling the entrance of the last entrant in the match.

“Ah….ah..ah…..AH…..ah…ah….”

The green light cuts out and its just darkness, the only light coming from the Smarktron™ as a fog begins to fill the arena, lying heavily over the crowd and wrestlers in the ring.

“I am the king of this city, top down….”

As “Summer in the City” begins to play, Chris Wilson steps out onto the stage. He still wears his signature black trench coat, Oakleys and black leather gloves, but across Wilson’s forehead is a large bandage and as he staggers down to the ring, you can tell he’s hurting. Badly.

“And finally, he hails from Miami, Florida, and weighs in at 273 pounds…he is the leader of the Magnificent Seven, CHRIS WILSOOOOOOOOON!”

Wilson walks up the steps to the ring and keeping his eyes warily on his opponents, he steps through the ropes and begins to disrobe. He chucks the coat to the referee, who catches it and hands it down to the outside as Wilson’s gaze cuts across all three of his opponents.

“It looks like go time,” assumes Stevens as the referee looks at each man, then spins around-

DING DING DING!

-and signals for the bell! Immediately they pair off against each other Erek up against Breggan and Wilson up against Fallout, each duo in opposite corners, the lumberjacks and fans cheering on their respective favorites as they jockey for an early advantage.”

“Breggan is manhandling Erek,” declares Riley as Fallout and Wilson exchange painful looking forearms in the corner. “The ICTV champion is trying to fight him off with some right hands, but they’re effectively no-sold as Lerrin grabs him around the throat and throws him into the center of the ring. Erek is right back up and he flies in again, looking for some form of offense, but he ain’t getting any as Breggan easily scoops him up and deposits him back down to the mat with a body slam.”

“Fallout and Wilson, each coming off wins in their Ground Zero matches, are battling it out as well,” states Stevens. “Fallout cracks a forearm into Wilson’s jaw, popping his neck back before kicking him hard in the gut and cinching on a standing headscissors. He wastes no time snapping Wilson back with a suplex, leaving him lying. Wilson tries to get right back up to his feet, but that proves to be a mistake as his lack of balance is made clearer as Fallout grabs his arm, spins back a wrist lock and releases just in time to grab him with a rear waistlock, lift the evil genius high into the air and drop him down to the mat with a back drop.”

Breggan and Wilson each reach their feet at the same time, and Wilson decides to try and take down the ox while he has the chance. He comes in from behind, dropping low and jamming his shoulder into the back of Lerrin’s leg, buckling it with a chop block. He drops down to one knee and Wilson starts pounding on him, bring down stiff rights. They seem to have no affect as Breggan stands up and looks straight into Wilson’s eyes, almost confused with why anyone would attack him. There’s an awkward pause for before Breggan nearly takes Wilson’s head off with a clothesline.

Fallout and Erek are down for but a moment and when they recover they decide its best to let Breggan kill Wilson, neither really wanting to get in the middle of it. The two men stare at each other from across the ring before charging, locking up collar and elbow near the ropes.

“These two men have no love lost between them,” informs Stevens, referring to Fallout and Taylor. “They’re going to be facing each other for Erek’s ICTV Title, so you know Fallout is going to do all the damage he can while trying to win the match, hoping that carries over to whenever that championship match may be.”

“There are no real friends in this ring, which is odd,” points out Riley while Breggan grabs Wilson as he stands up and tosses him into the corner. “Breggan and Creative Control don’t really like anybody and we all know how popular Wilson is, especially with Fallout and XF9.”

“We’re getting a sneak peak at future ICTV action,” declares Stevens as Erek attempts to whip Fallout off the ropes. “Fallout reverses Erek’s Irish whip attempt and as he bounces back, Taylor is flipped over to the mat with a diving arm drag. Fallout tries to spin into a chinlock, but Erek arches his back and pushes himself over top and finds himself in convenient position for a lateral press. ONE

TWO and hardly that as Fallout kicks out and Erek is bouncing off the ropes. He hops over Fallout once and just as the Nuclear Weapon reaches his feet Erek is there again, twisting up and around with an attempted spinning headscissors. Fallout recovers mid-spin however and brings Erek crashing down to the mat with a hard slam. His turn to cover. ONE

TWO and Erek easily kicks out. Some fast-paced action from the two smaller men in the match.”

“And if you enjoy seeing a good ol’ beating, the bigger men going at it isn’t too bad either,” recommends Riley. “Breggan has Wilson stuck in that corner and he’s choking the life out of him, the ref occupied with Fallout and Erek. Wilson knees him in the gut for a short reprieve, but Breggan simply slams all of his muscle into his smaller adversary, squashing him into the corner. When he releases him, a tight waistlock is applied and Wilson is sent bouncing onto his back with a big-time belly-to-belly.”

Wilson hits the ground hard, clutching his back in more than usual this early in the match and Breggan picks up on that, moving to keep the attack going.

“Breggan sees how pained Wilson is,” notices Stevens as he moves towards the fallen M7 leader, “and I wouldn’t be surprised if he exploited that to its full potential.”

Fallout and Erek Taylor continue to battle, each back to their feet and circling. They lock up again, this time Fallout taking the advantage with a hammerlock. Erek reaches back as if going for a stunner, but instead jumps slightly into the air and uses the advantage of gravity to flip Fallout over his shoulder and break up the hammerlock. Fallout rolls through up to his feet and spins around to find himself being Irish whipped nearly immediately. As he rebounds, Erek slips his arm around and attempts a hiptoss. Fallout shifts his weight and dances around, getting Erek near the receiving end of the move. Erek manages to twist himself free, but as he turns to face Fallout, the Nuclear Weapon is already turning into the air and shooting out a jumping back kick into his stomach. Erek doubles over and is twisted down to the mat with a spinning neckbreaker. Lateral press, no frills. ONE

TWO

and another kick out by Erek Taylor.

“Breggan’s going to try and break Wilson in half,” predicts Riley as Lerrin lifts his opponent into the air. “He lifts him fairly high up into the air, almost as if going for a fallaway slam, but instead brings him crashing down with a backbreaker! Wilson cringes in pain and Lerrin simply grabs him again, his no-nonsense attitude and plan of destruction looking to make an early end to the evening for the man coming off a painful Wargames victory on Sunday.”

“Wilson stumbles up, holding himself up with both arms,” calls Stevens as Breggan grabs him again. “But Lerrin Breggan is just too strong as he lifts the heavy Wilson easily into the air with one arm, twisting him around into another backbreaker. That’s just nasty looking, and Wilson is really hurting.”

While the slow and methodical breakdown of Chris Wilson continues, Fallout continues his quest to hurt the man he will soon be facing for the ICTV championship. He grabs Erek’s leg and drives his knee down into it. Once. Twice. Three times. The ref eventually separates them and Erek gets up to his feet and Fallout immediately takes a swing at him. It’s blocked, and Erek lets lose a haymaker that would rattle a god. It rocks Fallout back on his heels and there’s a flurry of kicks to the midsection. An Irish whip and bouncing back is Fallout again. Erek surges out his right leg again, but Fallout catches it, and he might as well be waggling a finger in a “Uh uh” gesture as he twists Erek Taylor down to the mat with a dragon screw legwhip.

“Fallout and Breggan are asserting themselves here, each looking to take out a certain body part,” analyzes Stevens.

“It’s a great strategy,” compliments Riley. “Wilson’s back was near the breaking point before this match even started, and Fallout has a great plan with Erek. You’re facing the High Flying Prince, so break his leg and flying will be made much more difficult.”

“Good point,” agrees Stevens as Breggan lifts Wilson up again. “Breggan is raising Wilson high into the air, possibly looking for another one of those high, high backbreakers, but Wilson manages to twist his way out, landing right behind Breggan. He grabs him in a reverse headlock and forces him down to the mat with a reverse DDT.”

“Wilson stands, holding his back with one arm, and spots Thoth,” declares Riley. “He points at the Balancer, and then makes a motion as if he was wearing a title belt, which infuriates Thoth, who will be facing the winner of this match, along with Edwin, for the championship on a future episode of Storm.”

“Taunting Thoth probably isn’t the best idea by Wilson.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because Breggan was down for about two seconds. He’d be standing right behind Wilson now.”

Thoth lets a smile slip across his face as he points back not at Wilson, but at something behind him. Wilson turns around to find himself being grabbed and chucked halfway to the moon with a T-bone suplex. He goes crashing into the mat, immediately reaching up to yank himself up to some sort of vertical base. He takes a step towards a rushing Breggan and finds himself lifted high into the air.

“Lerrin Breggan is military pressing Chris Wilson!” shouts an awed Stevens. “He’s doing freaking reps with a 273-pound man, and now he turns towards us and the X Force 9 members AND TOSSES WILSON OUT OF THE RING! Tod and Annie somewhat break his fall, but right away they’re back up, taking it to one of the sworn enemies of their stable.”

“And look at Fallout go,” directs Riley as Fallout lifts Erek up high into the air for a suplex or brainbuster. “He’s got Erek high up in the sky, but the wily Taylor slips out and lands back to back. Fallout spins a pointy elbow at his ear, but its ducked and the two men come up facing each other. Erek wraps around the back of Fallout’s head before dropping down with a stiff jawbreaker. Fallout spins towards the stage, doubled over, as Erek sprints against the ropes opposite him to gain speed.”

Erek does gain speed, but its not enough, because as he comes up behind Fallout with an attempt at a bulldog, Fallout simply grabs him around the waist and uses his own momentum against him, lifting him up, up into the air and then releasing him over the top rope and throwing him to the M7 wolves. Fallout doesn’t quite get turned around quick enough and Lerrin Breggan turns his attack towards him.

“Its Fallout and Breggan, the former defeating the latter on Sunday, and they are beating the hell out of each other!” shouts Steven as the M7 lumberjacks continue to stomp on Erek while Wilson gets the hell beat out of him in front of the announce table by Annie and Tod. “Breggan pounds down on hard the back of Fallout before scooping him up onto his back and starting to spin him around in a torture rack! He’s probably setting up the Royal Decision, but Fallout wiggles his way out of it, grabbing Breggan’s head on the way down and trying to drop him down with a DDT.”

“Breggan’s too tough for that,” assures Riley as his word holds true, the CC member grabbing Fallout in a bear hug and squeezing, causing the headlock he’s in to be released. “Fallout’s in a tough position, but he raises both of his arms and brings the edges of his forearms right into Breggan’s neck. Lerrin cringes, but doesn’t release him, so Fallout does it again. Still no release, so the Nuclear Weapon rakes the eyes of his monstrous opponent and is freed! Immediately, it’s a stiff kick to the gut, a quick headlock…MELTDOWN! MELTDOWN ON BREGGAN AND HE IS OUT!”

Fallout, thinking that may not be enough and with the crowd now enthusiastically behind him, hops over the ropes to the apron and stretches it back, looking for what most would guess as the Nuke. But it never happens, as that diabolical Jay Dawg grabs the back of Fallout’s ankles and yanks him down, dropping him chin-first off the edge of the apron. He picks him up back up and jams him into a standing headscissors, crossing the Clansmen’s arms across his throat.

“Spider and Thoth see this happening and rush to help out their brother,” states Stevens excitedly as the Hardcore champion leaps up into the air, “but it’s too late, because it’s JD’s Revenge on Fallout! He rolls the number one contender to the ICTV championship back into the ring just as he and Sacred are forced to combat two very unhappy Clan members.”

“It’s just as dangerous for the lumberjacks on the outside as the combatants,” moans Riley as Sacred and JD begin to get bounced around. “Breggan’s up to his feet rather quickly after Fallout’s signature DDT and as the Nuclear Weapon struggles to rise after JD’s modified Pedigree, Lerrin grabs him and locks their arms, pulling Fallout onto his back, upside down. We saw this move last Monday when Breggan nearly beat Edwin.”

“It looks like the Kingdom Come!” obviously points out Stevens as Breggan jumps into the air. “JUMPING VERTEBREAKER ON FALLOUT! His neck crashes into the mat and Lerrin rolls him over, covering nonchalantly. ONE!

TWO!

THREE! And Fallout is eliminated, but not without some help from that damned Creative Control!”

DING DING DING!

“Fallout is now eliminated from this contest. He will join the lumberjacks at ringside.”

XF9 eventually shoves Wilson back into the ring, just for the sake of the match continuing, and the evil genius manages to pull himself up. On the other side. with Tyler’s urging, Strangler rudely throws Erek back in. Breggan’s still somewhat hurting from the Meltdown and is kneeling in the corner as Thoth and Spider help Fallout out of the ring, their fellow Clan member seeing little spinning birds, stars and pentagrams.

“Wilson gets himself up and sees Breggan leaning in the corner after his pinfall,” states Stevens, “and now he drops a double axe handle across his back. Lerrin, like a sleeping giant awakened, spins around to face him. He grabs Wilson around the throat and shoves him into the corner, but a stiff headbutt later and Wilson is freed again. He scythes a knife-edge chop across Breggan’s chest to get a cheap ‘Wooo’ from the crowd before grabbing him around the back of the head and throwing him into the corner.

He climbs up, pounding rights into Breggan’s head, but the behemoth lifts Wilson up into the air and steps out, the crowd cheering as they see a powerbomb coming on. Wilson goes at Breggan’s eyes again and he’s released. He quickly delivers a knee to the gut followed by a front facelock before cinching Lerrin up. He strains to lift the large man into the air, but his back doesn’t allow more than a few feet, so he drops Breggan, locks him in a double underhook position and drives him down to the mat with a double-arm DDT. Wilson casually gets up to his feet, smiling and looking down at Breggan as if it was easy to take him down.

“Wilson’s getting cocky,” sighs a concerned Riley, “as he walks across the ring and starts to stomp away at a recovering Erek’s knee, continuing Fallout’s plan of assualt. He thinks because he took Breggan down…AND LERRIN IS RIGHT BACK UP!”

“Oh it’s not good times in Evilgeniusville at all,” says an almost giddy Stevens as Lerrin grabs Wilson from behind, spins him away from Erek, scoops him up onto his shoulder. “Wilson manages to slip off the mammoth’s shoulders, drop down and latch on a full nelson. However, Lerrin simply reaches back as if Chris were a small child and snapmares him over his shoulder. Wilson gets back up to his feet, but Lerrin kicks him solidly in the gut, doubling him over.”

“Breggan’s fuming at Wilson as he turns to face the entrance ramp,” states Riley as Breggan points to the stage before picking Wilson up. “I think Lerrin’s snapped and has delusions of gold, because he’s running towards those ropes, and he throws a battered Wilson over top…KING’S COMMAND! CHRIS WILSON JUST GOT POWERBOMBED FROM THE RING TO THE ENTRANCE RAMP!”

The crowd promptly breaks into chants of “Holy Shit!” as Wilson writhes in pain, the crowd, the lumberjacks and the announcers still in shock. The only two men now in awe right now are Wilson, because he’s in too much pain, and Breggan, who coolly looks down at Erek as he starts to rise, and drops an elbow into the back of his spine before rising and heading to reel back in his catch from the outside.

Stevens is still disgusted. “I hate Wilson as much as the next guy, but that was just sick. Breggan climbs down out of the ring, not even thinking.”

“Inexperience alert! We have ourselves a rookie, folks.”

“Oh man!” cringes Stevens as the Dark Prophet and Strangler converge on the beast. “You never, ever climb out of the ring on your own during a lumberjack match! Ever! Lerrin obviously wasn’t thinking about anything else other than eliminating Wilson and showing off his dominance, but right now he’s the one getting hammered. Creative Control comes over to try and help, but they’re cut off by both XF9 and the Clan who, while hating M7, don’t see any reason why they can’t beat up on Lerrin.”

“Strangler picks up those steel steps as Breggan fights off Tyler, popping a right into his jaw, but he doesn’t see the other M7 lumberjack who raises those steps high above his head-

CLANG!

-and rams them right into the side of his head! He picks him up, rings his bell once more off of the unforgiving ring post before sliding him back into the ring.”

“Erek Taylor’s back up to his feet!” shouts an excited Stevens as the crowd reaches his feet. “Lerrin, slowly rising and half-dazed gets put in a headlock again, but this time Erek spins him around and the two men stand back to back. The Jersey crowd starts to buzz in anticipation…as EREK SITS DOWN, SNAPPING BACK BREGGAN’S NECK WITH THE FAME AND FURY!”

“But is it enough?!” wonders Riley as Erek heaves Lerrin onto his back and hooks his leg back, the referee dropping to count and the crowd helping him along. ONE!

JD slides into the ring, trying to grab the referee…

TWO!

…but Tod grabs him around his ankle and yanks him back, fingertips inches away from the official!

THREE!

DING DING DING!

“He did it!” shouts Stevens over the roar of the crowd. “The monster Lerrin Breggan just fell to the ICTV Champion’s Fame and Fury finisher. Spectacular!”

Funyon addresses the crowd from his ringside seat. “Ladies and gentlemen, Lerrin Breggan has now been eliminated from this match and will join the lumberjacks at ringside. The next fall will decide the winner of the title shot.”

“Well, Breggan’s gone from this thing and it’s down to Wilson and Erek,” summarizes Stevens as Wilson is helped up to his feet by his stablemates, Tod slamming JD up into the barricade and walking away, shouting up words of advice and encouragement to an awaiting Erek Taylor.

“This looks familiar,” reminisces Riley, “because it came down to these two men before Snake Eyes in competition for a title shot. Wilson won that won rather cleanly if I remember.”

“Hmm, that’s odd,” thinks Stevens aloud as he rubs his chin for effect. “If my memory serves me correct, it took something like a chair and a low blow.”

“Must have missed that, or we’re thinking of a different match.”

“It happens.”

Erek Taylor stomps Breggan out of the ring as the applause continue to ring out before he looks out to see Wilson, teeth clenched in pain while he clutches his back, slightly hunched. He’s being supported by Tyler McClelland and the Boston Strangler, and neither of the trio are looking up at the ring. Erek grins broadly, and runs to the ropes in front of the announcers and opposite the Magnificent Seven.

“Erek is picking up speed, but limping slightly” notifies Stevens as Erek bounces off the ropes and changes direction, “and he’s not looking to slow down as he reaches the ropes, grabs them and throws himself over top. Wilson looks up and tries to offer a word of warning, but its lost in the roar of the crowd as Erek Taylor comes crashing into all three men, knocking them from their feet!”

“The previous comment we made about leaving the ring in a lumberjack match,” reminds Riley, “is void if you leave the ring and manage to take out a good portion of the enemy with you. Erek did just that, and as the CC and Fallout start to head for him, he quickly grabs Wilson, shoves him up against the apron and slides into the ring. On the safe haven of the canvas, Erek proceeds to drag Wilson in with him.”

“Good strategy by Erek, because he has very few friends out there,” assumes Stevens. “The Clan sure as hell doesn’t like Wilson, but with Fallout the number one contender to Erek’s title, you know he’s going to try to get in as much damage as he can to weaken him for their eventual match.”

“Those Clan, they’re crafty folks.”

“They really are,” confirms Stevens as Erek gets Wilson the rest of the way up to his feet and shoves him into a corner. “Erek pounds away at Wilson with right hands in the corner before spinning him around and driving a shoulder into the small of his back, jamming his sternum first. Wilson’s back is his definite weak point at the moment, and Erek is doing everything he can to exploit said weakness.”

Taylor takes a few steps back and charges in, ramming his shoulder again into the square of the evil genius’s back. Wilson winces again, but can’t mount much of a defense as Erek slowly spins him back around and climbs up onto the turnbuckle at the same time. He leaps out, landing on Wilson’s shoulders and rolling him through with a rolling clutch pin, grabbing onto his opponent’s legs and keeping Chris’ shoulders tight to the mat. The referee begins to count, the crowd sensing an end already. ONE!

TWO!

TH..and Wilson manages to finish his roll out of it. This leaves him at another disadvantage with Erek directly behind him. The speedy ICTV champion doesn’t hesitate to plunge a dropkick right into Wilson’s back while he sits, sending pain shooting up and down his spine and flopping him back to the mat. Erek stands up, the crowd giving him a loud ovation as he climbs up onto the top rope.

“Erek Taylor’s going up top and looking to polish off Wilson and his shot at another title right now!” declares a pumped Stevens. “He leaps off from the top, spinning over completely with one flip and coming down towards Wilson head with leg extended…but Wilson manages to pull himself up at the last second and causing the High Flying Prince to come down hard on nothing but the mat, missing his somersault leg drop!”

“Wilson isn’t done yet,” realizes a surprised Riley. “I thought he was a goner, but he’s pulling himself up with the ropes and as a pained Erek tries to stand, Wilson stomps him hard right in the knee, keeping up with where he was before Breggan violently interrupted him. Erek tries to fight back, but Wilson easily dodges his right and grabs his lower leg wrapping it down under and lifting the young Taylor into the air. He drops him back down for a nasty shinbreaker.”

Erek cries out in pain as Wilson pulls up his right leg, extends it and promptly drops and elbow right into the inside. He stands back up and drags Erek towards the ropes, shoving his boot through the bottom rope and hopping up into the air. He comes down, slamming all of his weight down into the extended leg. Wilson grabs the leg again and spins Erek away from the ropes, dragging him to the middle of the ring and attempting to step over in a toe hold, the crowd booing loudly as they realize Wilson is looking for the dreaded figure four. The ICTV champion fights him off, the bottom of his feet slamming into the bottom of Wilson’s face and sending him reeling.

Erek immediately rolls over to his stomach and tries to stand, wobbling on his one leg. Wilson turns and comes at him with a wild right just as Erek reaches his feet. It’s blocked, and Wilson takes a European uppercut to the chin. He tries to whip Wilson off the ropes, but the leg he plants starts to give out and its easily reversed. Erek comes back towards the evil genius, who telegraphs a back body drop. He’s leapfrogged and turns just in time to catch a flying forearm right to the face. Erek covers, the crowd cheering again as Wilson’s systematic destruction break down. ONE

TWO

T..and a rather easy kick out by Wilson, but the crowd is re-energized and there’s another adversary to deal with, as well as the wrestlers around the ring and the High Flying Prince inside of it.

“Erek Taylor’s leg is killing him just as much as Wilson’s back as this point,” realizes Stevens, “so right now it’s going to come down to who can utilize their opponent’s weakness and any interference by our lovely lumberjacks.”

“Erek needs to keep the pressure on, and he plans to as he climbs out onto the apron,” calls Riley as Fallout comes up behind him, “but that has proved lethal once again as the Nuclear Weapon grabs the man he will be facing for his title from behind, but Erek kicks him off with his healthy leg, holding onto the rope for leverage. His XF9 pals run over to help, but they’re met halfway by an angry Creative Control team, who has their rep in this match gone already.”

“It’s mass confusion out here as the Clan and Magnificent Seven sit back and watch,” tries to organize Stevens. “Erek turns to see Wilson incoming, and he drives his shoulder into his abdomen. He hops over, flipping and turning the M7 member over with a sunset flip, but Wilson holds on to the ropes and he kicks Erek off of him. The brawl continues on the outside as Wilson drags Erek to the corner and sits him up, laying his right leg over the second rope and exposing it for some potentially crippling blows.”

“Wilson’s going to make sure this match ends right here,” assures Riley as Erek’s knee is rained on by the sole of his opponent’s boot. “The referee counts, but Wilson pays little attention until it reaches four, stopping and raising his hands in a sign of peace. He takes a step away, and turns, firing one last boot…but Erek moves out of the way and Wilson gets caught in between the top and middle rope! Erek slithers around, grabs him and rolls him up and out of the ropes with a school boy, all of his weight on pressuring down and crunching Wilson’s screaming back as the crowd explodes with the surprise pinfall. ONE!

TWO!

THRE-and Wilson barely kicks out!”

“This could he Taylor’s last chance for some serious offense with his leg slowly falling apart,” suggests Stevens as Wilson surges up to his feet just to take a high leg clothesline. “But the action on the outside is just as fierce, and that beast Lerrin Breggan has Annie E, and he just tossed her into the ring, before Breggan gets hit hard by Tod.”

“The ref is somewhat perplexed to have a woman near him,” snickers Riley as the referee goes to check on Annie, “but Erek is going to single out Wilson’s back. He uses all of strength to lift Wilson and juts out his knee just enough so Wilson catches it with his back on the way back down. Erek points to the rope and the crowd pops again as the High Flying Prince leaps up, struggling to keep his balance with one decent leg, but Strangler hops up onto the apron-“

“AND PUNCHES EREK SQUARE IN THE FACE WITH HIS CHAIN-WRAPPED FIST!” follows up Stevens in disgust. “Taylor teeters on the top rope for a moment as Strangler hops back down to the floor, just in time to come in close contact with Thoth while Spider and Tyler duke it out, but Erek slowly flops backwards, landing hard on the canvas. Wilson looks up, sees this, and crawl over hooking the leg waaaay back and rolling over nearly completely and shouting.”

“REEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEF!”

The official spins around as Annie rolls to the outside on her own accord, and he spins into position as the blood starts to slowly trickle from a wound on Erek’s head. The crowd is shocked as he begins to count. ONE

TWO

THREE…

And Erek Taylor kicks out.

“X FORCE NINE!”

The crowd goes apeshit as Wilson looks up at the referee, his eyes wide with a mix of rage, fear and shock. He wastes no time dragging a listless Erek by his right leg and dragging him into the center of the ring. The crowd somewhat quiets as they realize what happens, Wilson wrapping around the fallen superstar and dropping back and twisting, locking on the figure four!

“Erek is screaming in pain,” sighs Stevens, somewhat saddened, “and I feel that this isn’t going to last much longer with the condition Erek’s leg is in. His face is contorted into a mask of agony and Wilson is getting the last use of the night out his crumbling back as he strains to keep as much pressure as possible on.”

“Just tap already!” urges Riley. “You don’t have a chance and you’re just wasting everyone’s valuable time.”

Erek slowly starts to fade, blood flowing and his pain threshold breeched with a bulldozer. Wilson has a satisfied smile on his face as he increases the pressure. Erek slowly falls to the mat, trying to relieve the pressure, and the ref immediately begins to count as both shoulders touch the mat. ONE!

TWO!

THR- and he twists up, the pain still there. He starts to work his way towards the ropes, dragging Wilson along with him, fingers curling outward and straining for that glorious salvation from the white-hot pain shooting up through his entire body.

“Erek’s nearing the ropes, but how much more can he take?” questions Stevens. “The blood is flowing from that damned Strangler’s, whose still pissed after getting beaten by Erek on Sunday, chain-aided punch to the head and Erek’s fading. If he doesn’t submit, he’s going to pass out from the pain shortly.”

“Well,” says a smiling Riley as the brawl on the outside continues, “then his shoulders will be neatly on the mat for a pin.”

“Just hold on one second!” demands Stevens as the crowd continues to cheer for its young hero. “Erek is only a few inches away from the ropes, grasping out for them desperately. Wilson’s fighting to keep him away as much as he can, letting out a battle cry as he the pressure reaches its maxium…BUT EREK TAYLOR WILL NOT GO QUIETLY INTO THE NIGHT, AS HE REACHES OUT AND GRABS THE BOTTOM ROPE!”

Another explosion of sound, shaking the entire arena as the crowd whoops it up. Wilson waits a few moments, the referee reaching a count of three, before finally releasing the hold. He grabs Erek immediately and drags him towards one of the corners, jumping into the air and dropping both knees across the inside of his leg and earning himself a howl of pain from the ICTV champion.

“Erek is so lucky Wilson let him get out of that hold,” mumbles Riley, shaking his head, “but now its all business, because my favorite evil genius is climbing up to the top. He starts to turn, preparing to drop some sort of nastiness on Erek, but the young Taylor staggers up to his feet. He hops on the second rope, yanking down on the first with enough force to crotch Wilson. Cheater!”

“He’s not done yet!” exclaims Stevens as Erek rides the bounces the whole way to its peak and leaps into the air, forcing his leg to work. “Erek springboards from the second rope up to Wilson, wrapping his legs around his head and twisting back…SUPERCURANNA! YESSSS!”

“S-W-F!”

Wilson bounces nearly the entire way across the ring, skidding harshly on his worn back. He clutches it in pain, wincing, as Erek tries to stand up. He gets up to one leg and really only can hop, very slowly while dragging his other leg behind him, over to Wilson and flops down, hooking the leg as the ref drops down, the heated crowd counting along. ONE!

TWO!

THRE…and Tyler McClelland drags the ref out of the ring!

Boo’s ring through the entire building as the Dark Prophet saves an XF9 win. The lumberjacks notice the ref is done and decide they want some ring time, the intensity of their brawl escalating into the ring. Thoth ducks a Boston Strangler clothesline and rams him headfirst into the steel post, knocking him silly, before sliding into the ring. Another Clansman, Fallout, does the same.

“There is no order to this match at all anymore!” admits Stevens as Fallout grabs Erek and stands him up, having to support him most of the time. “Thoth’s in the ring, Fallout’s in the ring. Fallout slaps a front facelock on Erek while Thoth scoops up a near-dead Wilson. Fallout grabs the back of Erek’s pants and lifts up, dropping him down onto his head with a Meltdown.…”

“…while Thoth drops to his knees, spiking Wilson into the ground with the Riot of the Blood, bouncing him high into the air with the twisted piledriver!” moans Riley as Tod gets into the ring and grabs Fallout, tossing him out. “The Strangler’s already recovered from that ringpost shot, and he just grabbed Thoth around the ankles and drug him out of the ring. Both of our remaining men are down as the ref fights off the lumberjacks and rolls into the ring.”

In the middle of all the chaos and head dropping, Wilson managed to land right beside a bloodied Erek Taylor, and his arm just happens to be lying across his chest, hardly touching and with no pressure at all.

“Don’t do this!” pleads Stevens as the ref spots the slight contact and starts to count. “Wilson doesn’t even know where he is, yet the ref counts. ONE!

TWO!

THREE! Dammit!”

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

The crowd lets the ref hear it as he calls for the bell, “Summer in the City” kicking up.

DING DING DING!

“Your winner of this match and going on to the triple threat for the SWF Title…CHRIS WILSOOOOOOOOON!”

The powder keg finally explodes, Lerrin Breggan stripping the top off of the announcers table while Spider Nekura ducks a clothesline attempt by the Dark Prophet and gives him an eyeful of black mist

“That was a bunch of crap!” complains Stevens as neither Wilson or Erek are moving. “Wilson doesn’t deserve that shot.”

“Sure he does,” argues Riley. “Just because Thoth put too much impact on his stupid finisher and Wilson flopped over on top of Erek while both men were unconscious and won doesn’t make this any less of a spectacular win. Plus, you don’t know if Wilson planned it this way or not.”

“Oh give me a break. Folks, We’re out of time,” cringes Stevens as Lerrin tries to find a victim for his table, “but we’ll see you on Smarkdown! For Bobby Riley, I’m ‘Grand Slam’ Mark Stevens. Good night, and have a pleasant tomorrow!”

As Stevens quotes Weelemd Update, the camera pans back, the final shot showing complete stable carnage in the best way. Broken and bloodied bodies along with senseless brawling. The copyright slowly appears as we starwipe to black, StableWars kicking into full swing…

August 3, 2002

Summary

- The opening of the show brings out the SWF Hardcore Champion, Jay Dawg. He babbles about beating the crap outta some X Force Niners or something, and then he starts talking about………………WHAT THE FUCK?!? Scrap this summary…Jay Dawg is a dead man! DEAD!! Oh, and so is Matt Kivell…literally. Poor Kivell. I wouldn’t use him anymore if I were you.

- Wait…you mean we actually make mention of Edwin’s JL commissionership?? Well, we do now…and there apparently is some disagreement between commissioners as it regards to Silent. Surprisingly, Edwin doesn’t want Silent in the WF…well, he’s here…and he’s gonna finish Raynor off tonight!

Xero vs. “Deathwish” Danny Williams

- UPSET!! UPSET!! Xero beat Danny Williams…WAIT! NO!! TIME EXPIRED!! NO CONTEST! You hate to see that…and…huh? Good match? Shaking hands? There’s no shaking hands in wrestling…I demand you kill each other right now! Well, the most shocking thing about this match is how Matt Kivell managed to officiate it, despite being clinically dead at the hands of JD at the top of the show. Shady business…

- Thoth’s looking for someone…but who? Maybe it’s the Stay Puffed Marshmellow Man?!?

X Force 9 vs. Magnificent 7

- Some crazy action at the end of the match…ending when Frost accidently nails his partner, TBS, with the Hell Freezes Over! But did they pin the near dead Strangler? No…LDP pins Frost after some sort of leg clip by Tod deKindes. Either way, X Force 9 wins, and how will this effect the relationship between Strangler and Frost and M7?

- More creepy Clan stuff…but it doesn’t seem like Thoth and Spider are getting along very well…and nobody seems to like Silent. What’s wrong with Silent…I think he’s a good guy. Give him a chance first…damn guys…can’t we all just get along?

Mercury vs. Ced Ordonez

- And for some reason…instead of a match, we got…a proposition? Apparently Ced wants to join the Magnificent 7. Hmmm…well, I’m willing to bet that they’d like to see him in action first…maybe we’ll all get to see him in action someday. And Mercury…I suppose his M7 debut will come another day.

- Strangler lost to Taylor on Ground Zero…and he’s upset about it? Well, shouldn’t he be? TNT shouldn’t mess with him right now, because he’s headed towards insanity for watching the same spot over and over and over again. Or maybe radiation poisoning from staring at that screen for so long. Regardless, TBS is not a happy camper.

- Jesus…for someone who just recently got bumped, Silent’s getting an awful lot of attention. Maybe there’s something we all don’t know about this guy…Edwin? Thoth? Care to fill us in. Well…anyway, some slight tension between Thoth and Edwin now…Did Thoth know about Silent after all? Will Thoth use Silent to win the world title from Edwin on Storm? What is Silent’s purpose here? Is he after Edwin…or Thoth…or their Fruity Pebbles? Who knows…but the SWF fans are eating it up.

Sacred vs. Annie E.

- Talk about your upsets!! Annie wins cleanly over the returning Sacred…and it appears that she’s gunning for Jay Dawg and the hardcore title. Now, we could see a rematch of Ground Zero if JD would get over his obsession with the Hville Thugg. Oh yeah….DIE JD…DIE!

Jay Dawg vs. Renegade

- Yet another X Force 9/CC matchup…and after some very close calls…Jay Dawg destroys Renegade with a Piledriver through 2 standing chairs. Maybe this is why JD is our new king of hardcore.

- HAHAHAHA!! Strangler’s afraid of cars…I don’t know why…he no sold the last one that hit him. He’s immune to car shots…you better pull something else outta your bag. Well, TBS wants another shot at Taylor, but Taylor’s worried about the world title…and he doesn’t have time for little tykes like The Boston Strangler….hmmmm.

Chris Raynor vs. Silent

- And yet another match turned into a match-was-not. Raynor’s all beat up, and Edwin comes out in true “kliq” style and talks him out of the match. Silent and Edwin exchange some brief words, but it’s obvious that Edwin wants nothing to do with the Silent One. Surprised?? No? Didn’t think so.

- Some people are just plain stupid. Brave..but stupid! Well, it seems that little Z has gone and challenged big bad Silent to a Hardcore Match…a match that Silent gave him many opportunities to get out of. However, the very brave…but foolish…Z will meet an early grave against the Slaughterer on Smarkdown…should be fun…but not for the weak at heart.

Lerrin Breggan vs. Fallout vs. Erek Taylor vs. Chris Wilson

- The main event brings Lumberjack clusterfuck fun after the ref gets yanked out by the meddling Tyler McClelland. Oh yeah…did I mention that Chris Wilson is the luckiest bitch in the world…as his arm happens to be on top of Erek Taylor after both received the Riot of the Blood and Meltdown respectively. Well, Wilson’s the #1 contender and all is right in the worl…wait…no it isn’t! Wilson, you can die like JD! Anyway…Should be fun to see how this all plays out with Thoth and Silent and Wilson and Spider and Edwin and Z and the pandas and yo mama and well…the whole fucking world!

SWF Storm (August 2, 2002)

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