SWF Storm (August 9/2002)

August 10, 2002

[The sound of a cold wind whistles through a darkened arena.

Suddenly several medium sized white pyros explode in the centre of the stage as a rain of blue sparks cascades down to the stage in front of the SWF-tron.

After a few seconds the lights return, scan an excited audience then zoom in on the announcer's table...]

Mark Stevens - It's time for yet another rolickng fun edition of SWF Storm! I'm Mark Stevens.

Bobby Riley - And I'm his evil announcing partner, Bobby Riley!

Stevens - You're evil?

Riley - Uhhh...yeah, I thought you knew?

Stevens - I just thought you were really annoying. Hmmm...well, on with the show!

August 10, 2002

STRAP MATCH

Silent vs. Chris Raynor

- Silent beat the poop out of the Carnival’s own Z on Smarkdown. Things won’t be as easy when he goes up against Chris Raynor this Friday. Edwin already stopped Raynor from facing Silent once, but Raynor's had all the Silent crap he can stands, he can't stands no more!

Match Description – DQ and count-out rules are in effect. Both men will be attached at the wrist by an approximately 10-foot strap. The strap is the only foreign object that can be used in the match and it can be used in any way the wrestlers want. The winner is the first one to score a pinfall, submission or knockout within the ring.

SINGLES MATCH

Tod deKindes vs. Frost

- In order to prove X-force 9 is every inch the stable the Magnificent 7 is, Tod issued a challenge to anyone in that group, and the big man Frost accepted. Did Tod bite off more than he can chew?

HARDCORE TITLE MATCH

Jay Dawg © vs. Z

- Z was half killed on Smarkdown by Silent. On an unrelated note, Dawg…being a fighting champion decided to challenge Z to this match after seeing the condition he was in after Smarkdown. Z, not being particularly smart, accepted.

Match Description – Regular DQ and count-out rules are not in effect. Submissions, pinfalls and knockouts count anywhere within the arena.

SINGLES MATCH

Renegade vs. Sacred

- On Smarkdown, Sacred suffered his second straight loss since returning when the team of Annie Eclectic and Renegade defeated him and Lerrin Breggan. Sacred will be looking for some payback this Friday…

TAG MATCH

Erek Taylor & Longdogger Pete vs. The Boston Strangler & Danny Williams

- The heat between X-force 9 and Magnificent 7 is steadily increasing and of course Taylor and Strangler have their share of history, so this tag match is a natural…

US TITLE MATCH

“TNT” Taylor Nicholas Thompson © vs. Tom Flesher

- In what some would call an upset, TNT beat Tom Flesher on Smarkdown and took his US title. Flesher won’t have to wait long for his rematch.

SINGLES MATCH

Annie Eclectic vs. Lerrin Breggan

- Annie has scored two wins in a row over Creative Control since returning, but that all might come to an end on Storm when she faces the intimidating Lerrin Breggan.

3-WAY ELMINATION MATCH FOR THE SWF HEAVYWEIGHT TITLE

Edwin MacPhisto © vs. Thoth vs. Chris Wilson

- 2 number one contenders…one, Chris Wilson is the champion’s most deadly enemy, while the other, Thoth, is a former foe who has allied with Edwin against Wilson and the Magnificent 7. Lately though, with the appearance of Silent in Thoth’s stable the Clan, the relationship between the two has become strained. What will happen this Friday is anyone's guess!

Match Description – DQ and count-out rules are in effect. Once a man is eliminated via pinfall, submission or knockout they must return to the back. The last surviving wrestler is the winner.

August 10, 2002

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen,” bellows Funyon, garnering himself a decent sized pop. “The first contest tonight is scheduled for one fall…”

He pauses, building the anticipation…

“… and it is a STRAP MATCH!”

The raucous crowd pops again, and even yet again as the lights drop out and “Electra Made Me Blind” marks the arrival of the good guy!

Mark: Boy, have we got one hell of an opener for you!

Riley: After wussing out of his match with Silent last week, certified genius and god among women Stubby McWeed signed him against Silent tonight… wit-

*KABOOOOOOOM*

The music picks up, and Funyon (mercifully) prevents Riley from speaking again:

“Introducing first, from Baton Rouge, Louisianaaaa… weighing in at two hundred and fifty pounds…. Chriiiiiiis Rayyyyynooorrr!”

As the last letters of his name ring out, the man himself steps out from the curtain to a great ovation! Raynor strides forward, jersey-less for the first time in a while. His right arm arm is lightly gauzed, and he has a bit of a taping job over his ribs - oddly enough, despite those things he looks a hell of a lot better than last week.

Mark: Raynor’s injuries sustained at Wargames kept him from fighting last week, and you’ve gotta believe they’ll play some part in tonight’s match!

Riley: IN-CO-RRECT, Mark! Edwin MacPhisto kept him from fighting last week - he knew Raynor was no match, and he KNOWS Raynor is no match for Silent! He just couldn’t overrule Stubby’s brilliant decision making!

Raynor foregoes his usual crowdwhoring ways - he does stick his non-gauzed arm out for a few high-fives, but its clear his mind is elsewhere. He’s walking normally, but he winces ever so slightly when his left foot touches down… he’s just sucking it up. He rolls into the ring carefully, on his good arm, and climbs up to his feet. The referee has been handed the 10-foot strap, and he goes about attaching it to Raynor’s left wrist…

The arena’s lights are abruptly cut off, and the spotlights near the entrance ramp begin to flash rapidly. A thick screen of fog float across the stage, lending an eerie effect to surroundings…

“His opponent, from Phoenix, Arizonaaa… weighing it at two hundred and fourty eight pounds…. Siiiiiiileeeent!”

Accompanied by “Retribution” pounding through the speakers, Silent makes his entrance through the fog at the top of the ramp, coat trailing behind him and jeers sailing towards him. He stops abruptly, eyes locked on the ring, on his opponent… his face is completely blank…

Mark: That guy scares the shit out of me…

Riley: For the first and only time in our careers, Mark… I agree…

Mark: He scares you too?

Riley: No, I agree that he scares the shit out of you. You’re practically shaking.

Inside the ring, Raynor is pacing back and forth, quietly… returning the stare. He stops his pacing as Silent begins walking down the ramp. The referee makes a desperate plea to “Wait for the bell”, and Raynor steps back in the corner, allowing the Silent One to slide into the ring. The referee takes his cane and heads off to hand it to the timekeeper, and Silent shrugs his coat off and spins it out over the top ropes… The referee takes the other end of the strap and ties it to Silent’s left wrist… The Silent One slowly turns around-

*BAM*

Mark: Raynor comes out with a right hand, and here we go!

*BAM*

A succession of right hands rock the Silent One back, and the referee signals for the bell and jumps back into the fray!

*DING DING DING*

Silent is driven back into the corner, and the referee goes for the break, but Raynor shoves him back with his left hand while he pounds on Silent with his right! Matty Kivell says a silent prayer before diving back in, and this time he violently shoves Raynor away from the corner, and-

Mark: The finger point of DOOM~!

Kivell fires up his index finger and BAM, that baby’s right in Raynor’s face, 0 to 60 in 1.4 seconds! Raynor wavers under its power, and reluctantly backs away… suddenly poor Kivell is shoved aside again, this time by Silent as he dives for Raynor and connects with a forearm! A second, third, fourth, and a final Shotei Palmstrike finish off the set. Raynor falls back into the ropes, then uses the spring to suddenly dash at Silent-

-The Silent One sidesteps and grabs Raynor’s right arm as he passes, then whirls around a locks in a hammerlock!

Mark: That’s the arm that Outcast had the submission on at Wargames, for almost two minutes straight!

Raynor’s fallen to one knee, desperately swiping at the ropes with the other, but Silent yanks him back by the injured arm. Another yelp of pain, and Raynor swipes back at Silent with his free arm… which is exactly what Silent wanted.

Holding the hammerlock with one hand, Silent quickly grabs the gauze-covered left arm of Raynor and-

*RIIIIIIP*

Mark: Silent just ripped the gauze off!

Riley: Ooooooh yeeeeeea!

Mark: Raynor’s right arm was the one that got covered in burns - and it doesn’t look like it’s gotten much better!

The crowd “Oooooh’s” at the bright red, some even brownish, splotches scattered on Raynor’s right arm. Raynor holds this arm out as far in front of him as he can, keeping it the hell away from Silent. He makes another desperate run for the ropes, and he manages to snag the top one with two fingers before Silent yanks him back, turns, and flips Raynor over his shoulder!

Mark: Beautiful Arm Dragon-Screw takedown!

Riley: There’s a damn good reason why they call this man The Slaughterer, Mark… and you’re seeing it right now!

Raynor gets his arm free of the Silent One’s grasp and he rolls under the ropes to the outside. He staggers to the guardrail, and the front row fans begins rush to him. One ill-fated attempt at a high five ends up stinging his left arm, and he with a yelp he pushes away from the railing-

Mark: Look out!

-right into Silent’s waiting grasp! He grabs a short hold of the strap just inches Raynor’s left arm and swings him around-

*THUD*

-right shoulder first into the steel post!

Mark/Riley/Everybody: OOOOOOOH!

Instead of letting Raynor fall to the ground and lie there whimpering, like a decent man would, Silent keeps his grip on Raynor’s end of the strap and drags him away from the post, then pulls him forward, driving his midsection into the ring apron! NOW Raynor falls to the ground in a whimpering heap, but the countout ending is getting uncomfortably close, so The Silent One takes Raynor up by the arm and rolls him back in the ring.

Mark: Something tells me maybe Edwin should’ve convinced Raynor to put it off another week.

Riley: Are you insane?! This is quality TV!

Silent quickly rolls in after. Raynor rolls onto his better arm and pushes himself up to his feet, but Silent is on him too fast, too quick to recover. He grabs Raynor’s left arm and again applies the hammerlock, but maneuvers to the front of his prey - keeping the hammerlock applied, he knees Raynor in the gut, doubling him over, and pulls him up into-

Mark: Ferris Wheel suplex, aptly named “The Midnight Carnival”!!

Silent rolls over Raynor’s body into a quick cover!

ONE!

TWO- Raynor throws his arm up off the mat! Silent doesn’t look particularly surprised, nor angered… just an “Oh well” expression crosses his face and he climbs back to his feet. He snags a handful of Raynor’s hair and pulls him up too, then takes him by the hand and whips him into the ropes.

Mark: Raynor hits the ropes and comes back- Silent’s down, drop-toe-hold---

No! Silent put a foot down to catch Raynor, but the big man just jumped over it! Silent jumps to his feet-

-and is quickly yanked in by the strap and driven down with a stiff stiff clothesline! He then backs away, holding the arm he used (his burned one) and trying hard to keep his composure. Silent jumps up and makes the charge from behind, but Raynor hears him coming, and he fires his right elbow back! He catches Silent once, twice, thrice, then he grabs Silent and whips him into the ropes! Raynor backs up a few steps, lets the rope get taut then pulls Silent in-

-he kicks up for a big boot, but Silent ducks! The Silent One runs behind Raynor, pulling the strap with him, and he ends up dragging Raynor’s own arm down between his legs so hard that the big man flips over onto his back!

Riley: HA! That was hilarious!

Mark: Great ring presence from Silent!

The crowd, who had been getting worked up, lets out a collective “Awwwww” as they sit back down. Silent shakes his head, clearing the cobwebs, then pulls his leg away as Raynor was using it to clamber back to his feet. He allows Raynor the courtesy of getting to his knees before-

*CRACK*

Mark: WOW.

Riley: Now THAT’S a roundhouse kick!

Raynor falls completely limp to the canvas, and Silent rolls him onto his back for the cover, putting a hand across each of Raynor’s shoulders.

ONE!

TWO!

TH- Raynor pushes his right shoulder up, and immediately regrets it!

Mark: Another advantage Silent has is every time Raynor kicks out, he’s either using his injured left arm or his burned right one!

Silent takes a bit of the strap and then rolls under the ropes. He drags Raynor close to the ring apron, while Silent tightens the slack…

Mark: What’s he planning?

Silent shortens the length of rope between his grip and Raynor’s hand to just two feet (give or take). He puts his foot up on the apron and pulls Raynor’s close to the apron. His left shoulder is pinned into the heel of his boot, and Silent then pulls the strap with all his might! All the pressure he can muster is being forced on Raynor’s injured shoulder! The Carny pounds the mat with his free hand and screams, loudly, as Silent wraps a small length of slack around his wrist and pulls back harder! The referee goes down to check Raynor, who in between violent thrashings shouts “NO! NO!”

Mark: I can’t imagine the kind of pain Chris Raynor is going through right now!

Riley: Hey! Get that guy!

An overzealous fan has begun lobbing empty drink cups at Silent, but he ignores them entirely, or maybe doesn’t even notice them. Raynor’s free arm has now grabbed a bit of the strap between his arm and Silent’s grip… He musters what strength he can and pulls, trying to lessen the strain… Silent is now shaking with effort, trying to keep his advantage, but Raynor is slowly pulling him forward! He gets enough slack to wrap around his fist once, then he continues to pull!

Mark: I don’t belie- Raynor’s powering out of this!

Finally, Silent drops all the strap he was holding and climbs back through the ropes into the ring. He picks Raynor up and whips him into the ropes-

-suddenly Silent is jerked back, and nearly falls over! He turns, and inwardly kicks himself, as he remembers he rolls out under the ropes and climbed back in through them - the rope is hooked around the bottom rope!

Mark: Now THAT was funny.

Riley: Not in the least!

Mark: … so its only funny if it happens to the good guy?

Riley: Exactly! You’re getting it!

Silent mutters to himself and heads to the ropes, making sure to climb through them. He pulls at the length of strap making sure it’s all straightened out-

-then is pulled violently forward, into the ring apron! A tremendous cheer rises from the crowd at the sight of Raynor standing in the ring, his grip on the strap! He lets Silent back up a few steps, obviously stunned, before yanking back on it, and The Slaughterer hits the ring apron again!

Mark: He may get through this yet! Despite first appearances, this strap stipulation is the best thing going for him here!

Silent drops to one knee, just momentarily, but it’s a sign. Raynor steps forward, giving Silent slack to move back… then Raynor drops and rolls under the ropes, in front of the ramp (Silent is on the side of the announcer’s left). Silent gets to his feet and stumbles back, and Raynor seizes the opportunity by grabbing a length of strap and flat-out running the other way! Due to his new location, Silent is pulled not into the ring apron, but head first into the steel post!

Riley: Silent, I swear to God if you lose to this cripple…

Mark: Oh right, what are YOU gonna do?

Silent falls back into the guard rail, then down to his knees. Raynor is into front of the ramp, mind racing for something to keep the momentum in his favor. The fans firmly back the Carny, and the second “RAY-NOR! RAY-NOR!” chant of the night goes up-

In a fit of rage, Silent sprints from his kneeling position towards Raynor! The Rayn-Man braces himself, and Silent is jerked back again, as the strap is wrapping around the bottom rung of the post! Silent angrily grabs the strap and pulls Raynor in, or tries to. Raynor is pulled closer to him, but he dives under the bottom rope and avoids steel postage. Silent then slides in under the ropes, ending this strap confusion once and for all, but before he can get up Raynor is on him, raining boots down across his scarred face! He then takes a run for the ropes and bounces off, coming back he drives his knee into his opponent’s face, and Silent goes down the hard way!

Mark: Raynor’s first cover of the match!

ONE!

TW- Silent quickly pulls his shoulder off the mat!

Raynor slowly gets to his feet, and takes a step towards the turnbuckle…

… but Silent is fast work! He grabs a length of strap and makes a loop, and slides it out in front of Raynor’s foot, the yanks back! Raynor is tripped and he falls face-first to the mat, and Silent scrambles on top of him and traps him in a side headlock, and slowly brings them both up.

Riley: YEA! There’s the no selling bastard I know and love!

Silent drives the BUTT of his palm straight into Raynor’s face repeatedly, but Raynor perseveres, gets his arms around Silent, and hoists him up and over in a side-suplex! Raynor rolls over quickly into a cover!

ONE!

TWO- Silent again quickly kicks out!

Raynor rolls off his opponent and gets to his feet, falling into the ropes for support, as Silent slowly rolls to his knees across the ring. The Carny manages to find his bearings, clear the cobwebs, then he stumbles back to continue working. Silent has made it up to one foot when Raynor takes him by the hand and pulls him out, whipping him into the ropes. Silent hits them and stops short as Raynor telegraphs the back-body drop!

Mark: Uh ohhhhh…

Raynor starts to tilt his head up when Silent rears back and field-goal kicks Raynor’s left shoulder right out of its socket!

Riley: Going going gone! That sucker is out of here!

Raynor collapses to the mat, again reduced to a writhing and screaming mess. Silent is slower getting back to his feet, but it’s clear Raynor’s not getting up any time soon. The Silent One staggers about, checking his head for blood, collecting his wits… When he’s ready to continue, the match has pretty much-

Mark: -reverted to pretty much how it started here.

Riley: Good! That was the best part!

Silent takes the slack and makes a large loop, then wraps it around Raynor’s neck and drags him to his feet, flailing and struggling. He tightens the impromptu-noose, then wraps an arm around Raynor’s neck from the front and lifts him up, over, Inverted Suplex! Silent pops to his feet, much quicker this time, and drags Raynor up with him. He wraps a third layer of strap around Raynor’s throat, followed by his arm, drives him down head-first with a DDT.

Mark: I think it’s just about over at this point…

Riley: It was over when Silent debuted in the cage!

Silent again drags Raynor up by his hair, but by now the Carny offers no resistance. Silent lets him go, and without support Raynor just falls down to his knees. Silent regards him with disgust, then yanks him back to his feet. He short-grips the strap and sends Raynor into the ropes, and on his return Silent swings his leg around for a roundhouse kick-

-that does nothing but completely, totally, and utterly MISS! Raynor baseball slides underneat Silent, and with a jerk of his wrist, Silent is flipped over!

Mark: HA! What goes around comes around!

Riley: SPOT-THIEF!

Silent kips-up, and as Raynor charges from behind he sidesteps the behemoth and grabs him from behind, locks in a Full Nelson-

Riley: Time to play the counting game!

-and he lifts Raynor up-and-over, brings him crashing down on his head in a Dragon Suplex!

Riley: That’s one!

Silent keeps the hold applied and drags Raynor back to his feet, picks him up, CRASHING down again!

Riley: Two!

Raynor has gone totally limp, and Silent has more trouble now than he did before lifting Raynor up and over for-

Riley Dragon Suplex Three!

Mark: Silent rolling into a cover!

Riley: Third times a charm!

ONE!

TWO!

T

H

R

E

- NO! RAYNOR KICKS OUT!

Riley: Wha wha WHAT?!

Mark: Three successive Dragon Suplexes and Raynor will not stay down!

NOW Silent is visibly angered, to a degree - he doesn’t break the referee’s neck, but he lets Kivell know that he could… Silent stares down at his opponent…

… and grins?

He scoops Raynor up and slams him down, then makes the cut-throat symbol, much to the fans chagrin… he then rolls Raynor over on to his stomach, and gets behind him…

…and hooks both of his legs…

Mark: Oh no…

Riley: What? What’s he… oh YES!

Mark: You’ve gotta be kidding me!

Riley Expect to see the fastest tapout ever!

The Silent one leans forward and grabs both of Raynor’s arms, then rolls onto his back, arching Raynor in unnatural ways over him in a Bow and Arrow stretch! The cries of Raynor outdo any and all shouts from the audience, and Mark winces just hearing them!

Mark: Raynor, for the love of God, give up! He’s gonna cripple him!

Raynor frantically begins rolling back and forth, trying to get down on his side, but Silent just pulls back harder, arching Raynor’s back and increasing the pressure on both of his arms so much more! The referee is up, one hand ready to motion the timekeeper, and just at the sight he’s wishing he could ring the bell!

Mark: Raynor, it’s not worth it! Give up!

But it IS worth it, and Raynor will not! He firmly clamps his teeth down, refusing to give Silent the pleasure of hearing his scream. His face tells an entirely different story, but Raynor is overflowing now with determination, and a “CAR-NI-VAL! CAR-NI-VAL!” chant gives him the fuel he needs! He begins rocking back and forth again, getting dangerously close to tipping over - but Silent unhooks one of his legs and drives his knee into Raynor’s back, increasing the pressure tenfold! The Carny’s silence is broken, and a scream that’s half anguish/half battlecry, he throws all his weight to his right side, and manages to tip over! Silent releases the hold, but-

Mark: -the damage is done. It’s all academic from here.

Silent rolls to his feet, only slightly annoyed. He grabs Raynor by the hair and drags him out to the center of the ring… Standing head scissors, hook of the arms…

Mark: Lifts him up - Silent’s got Raynor up for the “Falling From Grace”!

Silent leans forward to deliver the move…

…when Raynor begins kicking! Silent can’t keep him up, and Raynor slides down his back-

-he’s got a length of the strap in his hands! As Raynor’s feet hit the mat, he whirls around and tosses it over Silent’s head, then yanks it tight around his throat to a thunderous cheer from the crowd!

Riley: Un-possible!

Mark: Raynor’s got Silent in a blatant choke hold, but it’s perfectly legal with the strap!

Silent struggles violently, and manages to get a few fingers between his throat and the strap, but Raynor begins dragging him toward the ropes! He quickly wraps his right hand around Silent’s neck again, reinforcing the choke, then he falls back into the corner and just pulls!

Mark: Silent’s beginning to fade! He’s going out!

Riley: NO! I refuse to believe a fucking CRIPPLE like Raynor can win this thing!

Silent’s right arm swings back, trying to catch Raynor in any way possible while his left hand is lodged between the strap and his neck! His struggling appears visibly weaker, and as Raynor slowly walks him out of the corner, the Silent One falls to one knee!

Mark: I think he’s got him!

Silent’s free arm goes in circles now, reaching back and missing repeatedly… A “RAY-NOR! RAY-NOR!” chant helps the Rayn man, who drops to one knee of his own, and pulls Silent’s back into it, increasing the pressure! Arm movements slowing…

… slowing…

And Silent’s arm drops.

“CHECK HIM!” shouts Raynor to the referee, his voice a mix of exhaustion and anger. Kivell drops to his knees and takes Silent’s right hand…

… raises it up…

… lets go…

It drops.

Mark: That’s one!

… raises it….

… let’s go…

It drops.

Mark: TWO!

… raises it…

… lets go…

…

It drops.

A deafening ovation from the crowd as Kivell signals for the bell, and Raynor unwraps the strap from around Silent’s neck!

Mark: Raynor wins! Raynor wins!

Riley: Ladies and gentlemen, Satan just opened an ice skating rink.

Silent falls limp to the mat, and the battered Raynor staggers to the ropes, for the first time tonight looking genuinely happy! Given the condition of his arms, the referee opts not to raise his in victory, but instead watches as Raynor slowly climbs up to the second rope in the corner!

Then Silent sits up.

Mark: What the FU-

Riley: He FAKED IT!

Mark: He wha- you mean Silent dropped his arms on purpose?!

Raynor’s fans immediately try to warn him of the danger, but Raynor doesn’t notice! He raises his left arm, still tethered to the strap-

Mark: Turn around!

A quick, sharp tug of the strap, and Raynor is pulled off the rope, crashing to the mat! Before he can even begin to understand what’s going on, Silent pulls him up to his feet, yanks him in via the strap, and scoops him up-

Mark: No, come on! He did the same goddamned thing to Z last wee-

-drops him down while sticking out his knee- SHOULDERBREAKER!

Mark: Damnit! Edwin, Z, someone get out here NOW!

A few pieces of garbage have reached the ring… Silent pays them no heed as he slowly climbs to his feet, standing over Raynor… Raynor, who is clutching his right shoulder… who is crying out in pain… who is begging for it to stop…

Silent isn’t finished.

August 10, 2002

“Jesus, no! He beat Z within an inch of his life on Smarkdown! This can’t happen again!”

Mark Stevens is aghast, and Bobby Riley looks on complacently as Silent drags Raynor’s limp body over to the turnbuckle. He pulls the Rayn Man to his feet and shoves him into the corner…

“What’s he doing? Riley, can you see from there?”

”I’m not positive, Mark, but…I think he’s…he’s tying Raynor to the turnbuckle with the leather strap!”

Indeed, as Silent steps away from Chris Raynor, the camera can clearly see Raynor’s wrists bound at the rope by the now-familiar leather strap.

“Edwin…” whispers the Silent One into his microphone. “Once again, you fail your newfound friends…once again…this man’s blood…is on your hands…”

And, just like that, Silent slides out of the ring…

…Only to return with his cane.

THUNK.

FWOOOOOOSH! THUNK!

THUNK-THUNK!

THUNK!

“Good Lord…Chris Raynor is a bloody mess! Somebody stop this now, damn it!”

Somebody does.

“Epic” hits the speakers, and the crowd pops big.

“The one-letter wonder is here to save the day!” yells Stevens, and here comes the Zster, steel chair in hand! Silent turns to the entrance ramp just as Z slides into the ring, stands in one motion, and swings the steel chair with all his might…

CLANG!

Silent winces, but does not fall.

“Oh, shit!” squeals Riley between bursts of laughter. “Z’s done it now.”

But instead of swinging the cane at his new antagonist…Silent raises the microphone to his lips.

“How are you feeling, Z? Your neck…doing...better?”

Z raises the chair…and stops.

“You know…you saw what the Union Jack did…to Lerrin Breggan. A bigger man than…than you…I could have crippled you four days ago, Alex…”

”But I didn’t.”

Silent rolls out of the ring, leaving a confused Z alone in the ring with a bleeding Chris Raynor tied to the turnbuckle. Given a choice between pursuing the Silent One and helping his friend…Z begins untying his stablemate.

“Oh, and Z?”

Z turns to see Silent at the top of the ramp, microphone in one hand…and a strange, peaceful smile on his face.

“Ask your…friend… ask Edwin MacPhisto…what it feels like…to break a man’s neck…”

”Retribution” hits the speakers as we break for a commercial…

August 10, 2002

Wowie-zowie! The TVs or milions of Americans come back from commercial land, only to be interrupted by the blaring music of SWF Storm. As the music fades into the background, fans waving their signs around in the air as they attempt to get on TV. Quick flashes show us a few signs, such as “Suicide King is my HERO!”, “I mark for Carnies!”, “Why, Outcast, Why (Do We Have To See You Again?)!” and the always present “You suck!”. The shot then pans down, down, down to the announcers table, where “Grand Slam” Mark Stevens and Bobby “If You Call Me Bobbi One More Time, I Will Kill You” Riley sit, anticipating the next match.

Stevens: AND WE WELCOME YOU BACK TO THE NASSAU COLISEUM FOR SWF STORM! We’ve kicked off the show with a great match, and now things can only get better!

Riley: You’re right. That last match sucked. DUD!

Stevens: *sigh* Bobby, let’s just hope God doesn’t striky uoi down before the end of the night...

Riley: NO GOD CAN STRIKE ME DOWN!

Suddenly, the lights cut out, a kickin’ piano piece blastin’ over the speakers. The crowd begins to cheer a little, pyro similar to Christian’s entrance flowing from the top of the SmarkTron and spewing from vents in front of the entrance. The crowd rises to its feet, roaring with cheers.

Stevens: Oh my God... can it be...

Riley: NO! NO NO NO NO NO NO! HE’S DEAD! DEAD! I TELL YOU THIS NOW! HE’S DEAD LIKE THE CROWD WATCHING A CUTTHROAT-TED FLINK MATCH!

At the same time, a Poke Ball upon the SmarkTron. It begins to spin as the crowd pops, spinning faster and faster and faster until it stops, blocked out by a picture of a certain wrestler’s head, winking at everyone in the arena. A huge pyro blast suddenly kicks up from the front of the stage as Billy Crawford’s “Pokemon Theme” blasts through the speakers. The pyro in front of the entrance then stops, and a spotlight shines down on Ash Ketchum and his sexy girlfriend Misty. Turning around from his Jericho-like pose, Misty on his right side, he spins, smiling. Ash turns to look, waving into the ring at Funyon, who waves back as Ketchum and Misty make their way down to the ring, slapping hands with some of the crazed fans.

Funyon: Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome back to the SWF... ASH KETCHUMMMMMMMMMM!!!!

Riley: Shit. Shit shit shitty shit.

The crowd roars loudly as Ash slides under the bottom rope and into the ring, snatching Funyon’s mic up, looking aroudn at the fans as his music cuts off. They chant his name. Ketchum, Ketchum! Just like that. But after absorbing the happiness from the crowd upon his return, Ash lifts the mic up to his face and says:

Ash: HELLLLLLLLOOOOOOOOOOOOO LONG ISLAND! THANK YOU FOR THE WARM WELCOME BACK! (The crowd pops again loudly for several seconds, and Ash has to wait until the calm down to speak again.) It feels great to be back with all you Poke Freaks out there! But first, before I break out into a Low Brass Dance, I would like to thank you for all the get well cards I got, and all the support you have given me. And that support has led me back here... to finnd the son of a bitch who tried to kill me AND ULEASH THE ELECTRIC BOOGALOO FURY OF POKEMANIA ON HIS ASS!

The crowd goes nuts, cheering loudly and chanting his name again as the commentators, well, comment!

Stevens: Ash Ketchum has returned with a passion! He’s out to find the asshole who tried to end his career!

Riley: I wish someone would have killed him.

Ash: Now, I know it’s someone in M7, but using logic, I have eliminated Chris Wilson, as he has no need to mess with me, or Mercury, because he’s a mega-wussy... wait... if I eliminate Merc for that, then I’d have to throw out all of M7! Silly me. So Merc’s still a possible suspect. But then... there’s Sub-Zero’s half-brother, Mr. Freeze in the flesh, The Human Slurpee Machine... Frost, and-

Suddenly, “Cities on Flame with Rock ‘n Roll” by Blue Oyster Cult hits, and out from behind the curtain, mic in hand, steps Frost. He seems a bit confident, but hey, he’s Frost. he’s big, scary, and Icelandic. Can’t argue with that.

Stevens: Looks like Frost has something to say to Ash.

Frost: Hello, and welcome back, Ash. All these fuckholes on Long Island couldn’t be happier. (Major crowd booage and heat aimed at Frost as the Chilled One continues.) By the way, did you get the little note I sent you?

Ash: I got it, I got it. And I read it. And I didn’t like it too much. It really didn’t have the structure of a good story-

The scary man from Iceland cuts off the Poke Freak in mid-sentence.

Frost: Well, that’s tough. Mainly, because that’s what the truth is, and the truth hurts, doesn’t it, Ash?

Ash remians silent as Frost smiles before he lifts the mic to his lips again and speaks.

Frost: So, anyways, Ash, let’s answer the $25,000 question. Who was it that attacked you? Who put you in the car and drove you into the wall in Halifax?

Ash: I... I...

Frost: Speechless, huh? Do you even know who attacked you, other than it was a member of M7?

Frost’s words add tension to Ash’s mind as he tries desperately to think back

Ash: I... I...

Frost folds his arms over his chest, tapping his foot in impatience.

Frost: I’m waiting...

Ash tries, tries to think back, but he just doesn’t have it.

Ash: I... I... I don’t know.

The crowd is silent, booing a bit as Frost smirks, bringing the mic back up to his lips.

Frost: That’s what I thought. Well, ladies and gentlemen, if you stick around tonight, I guarantee that you will find out.

The crowd pops loudly as Ash answers the guarantee of Frost.

Ash: I can wait for that.

Frost: And as for you... I’d advise, since you have nothing else to do, to leave the building at once and not try to pull anything on us. Or else. If you’ll excuse me, I have to get into that ring in a few minutes and kick the living shit out of your little buddy, Tod deKindes. Enjoy the match, Mr. Ketchum, and think of it as what will happen to you if you mess with M7 again... because if you do, I warn you to be wary of the Touch of Frost or you shall face the consequences of an Early Winter, Ash.

And with that, “Cities on Flame with Rock ‘n Roll” by Blue Oyster Cult hits the speakers again, leaving Ash to think “Who did this? Who attacked me?” as we fade off to a commercial...

August 10, 2002

The Magnificent 7 locker room is quiet, empty with the exception of one man. The Boston Strangler sits, brooding in the corner. He looks off into nothingness, still contemplating his course of action.

"Should I? I flipped when Taylor crossed a line at Ground Zero…but this, this will go beyond lines. Taylor’s a bitch, a mouthy little punk that thinks he’s all that, but I don’t know if even he deserves this. But then again, he’s trying to ruin my life. He wants to take me away from the people who make me happy, the people who like me, who respect me, who are the center of my life. Taylor wants to rip me away from Wilson…you can see it in his eyes. That cocky little bastard….he’ll deserve what he gets. I just hope he wises up fast and gives me that rematch before I have to do something REALLY drastic."

While Strangler continues to stare off into thin air, the door to the M7 locker room slowly swings open, and TNT walks in. Seeing the silent giant, he approaches cautiously, remembering Strangler’s tirade from earler. “Hey, TBS, what’s happening?” asks Thompson, a slight look of alarm on his face.

Strangler looks up, a cool smile on his face. “Never been better, my friend. Tonight, I stop looking to the past. Tonight, things change for Strangler. Tonight, Erek Taylor will realize EXACTLY what he decided to mess with.”

TNT looks somewhat relieved, although a sliver of skepticism is still visible. “What do you have planned for him? You need me to get my bat? It’s right in the trunk of my car! I’ve kinda been waiting to…”

Strangler cuts him off with a quick hand gesture before speaking. “TNT, I’ve beaten Taylor mercilessly every chance I’ve gotten. But that wasn’t enough. You see…the mind controls the body. And when one doubts himself, they stand no chance. After that punk Taylor got lucky at Ground Zero, I doubted myself. But now, I realize that it was a fluke. It won’t happen again. And now, it’s time to plant that seed in Taylor’s mind. To distract him, to infuriate him, to bring him back to me. And then…I get my revenge for Ground Zero. At Apocalypse, I will, I WILL, get my rematch. Taylor might not know it yet…but I will. And if things go well…you’ll see.”

With that, Strangler steps to his feet, a groan coming from the big man as he stands tall, towering above TNT, before exiting the ring. TNT looks at the swinging door, moving slower and slower, before closing completely.

“Man, what a nutjob. Mind and body and seeds and stuff….what’s his deal?” remarks TNT to nobody in particular as he sits down, alone, in the M7 locker room.

August 10, 2002

The camera fades back in with a close-up of Bobby Riley dancing in his seat with a pair of headphones on.

Riley: (singing) “You’re a Jive Soul Bro, a Jive Soul Bro and you’re always lying to your friends. You’re a Jive Soul Bro, a Jive Soul Bro and you never get nothin’ in the end.”

Grand Slam attempts to hold down his giggles as he elbows his erstwhile broadcast partner and points at the red light on the camera in front of them. Riley jerks the headphones off with an embarrassed gulp.

Stevens: (pointing a thumb at Bobby) “You would think this dude would learn a lesson, but he didn’t learn a thing at all.”

Riley: “Hey! There’s nothing like good music.”

Stevens: “And that was nothing like it. Let’s go to the ring for introductions.”

Funyon stands in the ring, bold in burgundy, and lifts the mic to his lips.

Funyon: “Our second match this evening is scheduled for one fall and will be held under standard SWF rules.”

Funyon pauses as “Cities on Flame with Rock ‘n Roll” gears up on the sound system and booing fills the air.

Funyon: “Introducing first from Reykjavik, Iceland at a weight of 296 pounds. He is a member of the Magnificent 7, FRRRRRRRROOOOOOOOOOSSSSSSSSST!”

The Icelandic Iceman strides out from behind the backstage curtain without any superfluous pyrotechnics or fancy lighting. Frost shouts curses at the jeering crowd as he struts down the entrance ramp.

Stevens: “This is Frost’s first singles match since long before Ground Zero and he might be a little rusty without a partner backing him up in the ring.”

Riley: “Frost never needed a partner before and he doesn’t need a partner now. The fact that he turned himself into a tag wrestler for the betterment of the Mag 7 just speaks to how great of a wrestler and team player he’s becoming.”

Frost hops to the ring apron and steps over the top rope with a menacing sneer. He stretches out slightly and then stands with his back to the upper right ring corner.

“I Am Hated” by Slipknot blasts over the loudspeakers to rock the crowd. The entrance stage is slowly coated with a gray smoke as blinding strobe lights sweep the jam-packed Nassau Coliseum.

Funyon: “And his opponent from Muenchen, Germany at a weight of 227 pounds. He represents X Force 9, TOD DE…KIN…DEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!”

Tod stands at the top of the entrance ramp clad in sunglasses and a trench coat. He scans the fans with a series of narrowed eyed looks and then walks down the incline while pointing a determined finger at Frost.

Stevens: “These two men are no strangers to each other as friction was just starting to heat up against them in the SJL before jumping up here to the big time.”

Riley: “This is their first singles match here in the SWF. They have faced off twice in tag matches, splitting that record with an asterisks.”

Stevens: “An asterisks?”

Riley: “An asterisks, in that Tod pulled the hair, pulled the tights, had his feet on the ropes, had LDP use a chair, blinded Frost with ceremonial salts, spit green mist in his eyes…(Riley trails off as the producers in the booth turn up Tod’s music to drown him out.)”

Tod stands outside the ring, not breaking his eyes away from Frost for a millisecond. He takes off his glasses and coat and hands them to a ring attendant before gingerly pulling himself up to the ring apron by the second rope and stepping through the strands.

Stevens: “Tod forgoes his usual dramatic entrance for a very cautious one.”

Riley: “As we were just saying, these two grapplers know each other well and they know not to trust the other one.”

Funyon slips out between the ropes and drops to the floor as referee Eddy Long calls for the bell.

DING DING DING

Stevens: “And we’re underway as the two men circle each other looking for an opening.”

Frost and Tod lunge at each other and lock up. They jockey for position, but the sinewy muscles and bulk of Frost wins out as he pushes Tod back into the upper left ring corner.

Stevens: “Long calls for Frost to make a clean break.”

Riley: “Clean break is an oxymoron.”

Frost unwraps his arms from Tod’s and raises them up in the air. deKindes tries to turn into the corner to block the shot he knows is coming, but Frost still catches him in the side of the stomach with a hard toed boot. Tod bends over from the blow and Frost straightens deKindes back up with a European uppercut. Frost takes Tod by the wrist and violently jerks him out of the corner.

Stevens: “Irish whip by Frost, reversed by Tod, REREVERSED BY FROST, SHORT ARM CLOTHESLINE!”

Frost and Tod both slam to the mat from the wicked shot with Frost haphazardly flopping on top for an early pin attempt.

ONE

TWO

Tod kicks out and rolls his left shoulder off the mat.

Riley: “Let me note that that was not, repeat NOT, the Hell Freezes Over or the match would have been over and we would have been running about five minutes short. Subjecting all of you at home to endure Mark’s Walter Matthau impression.”

Stevens: “Which only sounds good if you’re doing your Jack Lemmon with me.”

Frost rises to his knees and wraps his fingers around Tod’s stringy black hair. He pulls the man up to his feet and fires a headbutt down into his forehead. He cracks down another one and another. deKindes looks to fall back, but Frost has him held tight.

Stevens: “What is the difference between the Hell Freezes Over and a normal clothesline?”

Riley: “It’s all in the positioning and motion of Frost’s hips and waist to muster the maximum amount of power, his arm is also bent more at the elbow sort of like a lariat. Although I wouldn’t expect someone like you to be able to note the subtle differences.”

Long finally tells Frost to lay off of the hair and he does so by snapmaring deKindes to the mat by his bushy mane. Frost drops to his knees behind the seated XF9’er and slaps on a chinlock while grinding his knee into Tod’s back for extra-added discomfort.

Stevens: “I thought the difference was just that Frost decided to name his clothesline?”

Riley: “That too.”

Frost grinds on the hold while burying the knee in the small of Tod’s back. The fans start up a “Tod, Tod, Tod” chant to rally the grappler as he waves his arms out in front of him to wiggle out of the move.

Riley: “Smart work by Frost to ground Tod and wear him down with his greater weight.”

Stevens: “This is a classic match up of speed vs. size. Although, both men can surprise on both fronts and may just do that here today.”

Riley: “Translation: We know it’s a chinlock, but it’s a part of wrestling so don’t go anywhere. We promise it will get better.”

deKindes scoots forward on the canvas to work the knee out of his back and feeds off of the fans’ rallying cries to fight his way up. Frost uses his height advantage to tower over the wrestler and attempts to press him back down to the mat with his arm still embedded around his chin. deKindes reaches up with both hands to grip Frost’s scalp and drops down to the mat in ramming the big man’s jaw into his own skull.

Stevens: “Jawbreaker by Tod to finally shake Frost off and both men are down.”

Riley: “There he goes cheating again, Tod clearly had the hair on that one.”

Tod rolls over and up to his knees while Frost crawls over to the near ropes to assist himself up.

Stevens: “Frost’s hair is barely an inch long.”

Riley: “As you always tell the ladies, an inch might not be much, but it can get the job done.”

deKindes pops to his feet and runs to the far ropes as Frost stands up right and turns around.

Stevens: “Tod rushing off the ropes…seated dropkick…NO! FROST GRABS HIS ANKLES!”

Frost lets Tod dangle down to the mat for a second and then tosses him straight up in the air with a twist to grab his knees and twirl him belly to belly with his own body. Frost then tosses him again with little visible effort to hook the waist. Frost spins deKindes up around to face him and the German wunderkind surprises Frost with a rabbit punch to the jaw.

Stevens: “I think Frost was going for a standing spine buster there, but he miscalculated just how stunned deKindes was.”

Riley: “There Tod goes cheating again. A closed fist is illegal.”

The dazed Frost drops Tod and staggers back a step. Tod steps forward and fires off another right jab, but Frost blocks it with his left arm and busts Tod to the mat with a Mike Tyson-level right hand of his own.

Stevens: “Closed right fist by Frost, an illegal move that Bobby was nice enough to just point out.”

Riley: “It’s not illegal for Frost. He trained as a boxer before getting into wrestling, he’s LISCENSED to punch people in the face.”

Frost locks his hands up over his head in an axe handle and plummets to the canvas to drive his joined fists into Tod’s left shoulder. deKindes flops over on his back and Frost covers with a lateral press.

ONE

TWO

Stevens: “Crisp kick out by Tod. He’s still way too fresh.”

Frost leans up to his knees and wraps his massive paws around Tod’s throat. He kicks wildly as the life is squeezed out of him. Long starts his disqualification count.

Riley: “He’s got that no so fresh feeling now.”

Long reaches five and Frost breaks. He lies across deKindes and loosely hooks the leg.

ONE

TWO

TH-

Tod bolts his left shoulder off the canvas and Frost rises back up with a frustrated looked plastered on his mug. He returns to strangling Tod as the fans rein down a negative response.

Stevens: “I suppose that’s not illegal for Frost either based on his boxing background.”

Riley: “Have you watched any boxing lately? Anything short of a crossbow to the eye is perfectly kosher.”

Frost drops down for another pin attempt.

ONE!

TWO!

THRE-

Stevens: “NO! A VERY WEAK KICK OUT BY TOD DEKINDES AND JUST LISTEN TO THESE FANS SIGH IN RELIEF!”

Riley: “Much like Preparation H, this is only temporary relief.”

Frost vaults up to his feet and stomps the mat in ever building aggravation. He cuts loose with a primal scream and sends two short kicks into Tod’s ribs.

Riley: “Don’t let him get to you, Frost. Stay focused. Remember what’s important here: killing any X Force 9 members.”

deKindes lazily rolls over to his side, his hair matted to his forehead with sweat. Frost blasts out a long drawn out breath before leaning over to yank Tod to his feet by his shoulder. He slams Tod’s head under his right arm in a front facelock.

Stevens: “Ice Pick coming up and this could polish deKindes off.”

Riley: “Could, COULD, it will drive his skull through the mat and halfway to China.”

Frost takes another deep breath to compose himself and, just as he is about snap back the DDT, Tod rushes forth with a quick bust of strength and speed to drive Frost into the upper right corner. He takes the top turnbuckle hard in the back and grimaces as the audience roars for the resurging German.

Stevens: “TOD ON THE OFFENSIVE! He cinches a waistlock, his patented belly to belly suplex out of the corner coming up.”

Frost hunkers down in the corner and deKindes does not have the power or leverage to hoist the dead weight up and over his head. Frost encircles his own hands around Tod’s waist and flips him up and over his head. Tod does a half gainer as he sails cleanly over the ring post to his back. He hovers spread eagle in the air as the crowd gasps with shock and then splats down onto the outside floor mats with a wet thud.

Stevens: “MY GOD! DID YOU SEE THAT! HE TOSSED TOD OUT OF THE RING TO THE FLOOR LIKE A RAGDOLL!”

Riley: “YEAH, BABY, AIN’T IT COOL!”

Frost turns around to face the corner and ascends up the turnbuckles to stand on the top one. He surveys the barely moving deKindes and then fixes his stare out to the booing crowd. Frost raises a mocking arm up into the air, signaling the triumph he smells in his grasp.

Stevens: “Frost wastes time in taunting the crowd, but after that bump he might have plenty of time to waste.”

Riley: “You can set a sun dial for how much time Frost has. I say let the sucker lay and humiliate him with a count out victory.”

Long starts his out of the ring count, but Frost glares over his shoulder at the ref with fire in his eyes. Long backs up and motions with his hands out to the floor in saying, ‘he’s all yours.’

Stevens: “Look at Long allowing himself to get pushed around.”

Riley: “He just doesn’t care, there’s a difference.”

Tod woozily teeters to his feet, not sure of where he is or what he’s doing. He trips forward to lay against the outside guardrail and slumps chest first across it. Frost bends down to put some extra spring in his legs.

Stevens: “NO! THAT’S INSANE! HE CAN’T BE THINKING OF JUMPING OFF!”

Riley: “No thinking, just pure action. He’s like a lion smelling blood.”

Frost vaults off into the still Nassau Coliseum air as flashbulbs pulp and cameras whiz at the impressive sight. He clamps his hands together above his head, looking to shatter Tod’s skull with a colossal axe handle from nearly ten feet above the floor. deKindes, showing that Frost is not the only one with animal instincts, falls to his right and Frost smacks jaw first into the steel railing with a shimmery clang. His glassy eyes roll back into his head and his head snaps back. He flops forward and takes another bump on the bar before drooping over it. Eddy Long leans over the near ropes and flourishes his hands in counting both men out of the ring.

(One)

Stevens: “FROST MISSED! HE MISSED THE AXE HANDLE! (Two) NOW HE MIGHT BE THE ONE UNCONSCIOUS AND OUT OF THIS MATCH!”

(Three)

Riley: “NO! NO! NO! DAMN FATE! (Four) SCREW YOU IN THE KEISTER WITH A DIRTY BROOM HANDLE!”

(Five)

Tod stumbles up to his feet, zigging and zagging like a drunk trying to make it home at 3 a.m. (Six) His foggy vision spots Frost lying over the guardrail and a very dull lightbulb flicks on in the injured grappler’s mind. (Seven) He tosses his hair back like a wild stallion and rolls momentarily back into the ring to break Long’s count.

Stevens: “Tod shows that the cobwebs are being swept loose, as he has the presence of mind to break the ref’s count. deKindes is crawling up to the ring apron. He turns to face Frost and OH NO!”

Tod bounds into space from the apron with his left leg jutting out as he spins to come down on Frost sideways with an enormous leg drop to his neck and upper back. The severely wounded Icelander topples over to his side, his face a mask of intense pain.

Riley: (livid) “THE HIGH RISK MANUEVER WORKS FOR TOD, BUT NOT FOR FROST? NOW THE SUN OF A BITCH IS CHEATING KARMA!”

Tod stretches out on the floor gaining his breath as Long restarts his count. (One) deKindes and Frost both lie on the thin mats as the audience buzzes with excitement around them. (Two) Tod inches over to the ring skirt and pulls himself slowly up it, nearly drained of all energy. (Three) He makes his feet and slouches back first against the ring, his chest heaving up and down with strenuous effort. (Four) Frost creeps ever so slowly along the ground on his hands and knees with his head down.

(Five)

Stevens: “Both men are very beaten up and I’ll be impressed if either one can make it back in the ring.”

(Six)

Riley: “Scented laundry detergent impresses you.”

(Seven)

Tod takes an unsteady step forward and delicately tilts over to put a hand on Frost’s head while placing the other on his rear end. (Eight) deKindes lugs Frost half up and pushes him into the ring. Long stops his count as Tod slides in under the bottom rope and slowly up to his feet.

Stevens: “The pin might seem like a formality, but Tod is not going for it. Could one last big move be drudged up from the bottom of his heart and soul?”

Riley: “You make me sick when you talk like that, you really do.”

Tod hauls Frost up to his feet by his shoulders and reaches through the man’s legs to take hold of his right wrist.

Stevens: “Pump handle, and he’s miraculously going to try for the Spirit Breaker.”

Tod tries to heft Frost off the mat, but it’s no go. He grist his teeth and knuckles down to try again. Frost’s feet float a few millimeters off the ground as the veins and muscles of the determined German labor in their huge effort.

Riley: “He’s too tired and Frost is too big. That should break his spirit.”

The tugging and wrenching at his aching body wakes Frost up as Tod struggles in vain to get the bulky grappler up. Frost swings to his left to break the pump handle and catches Tod off guard with a half nelson. He skips forward and dives to the mat to smash Tod face first into the canvas.

Stevens: “Frost counters with a half nelson bulldog and both men are out again.”

Riley: “Even in desperation he reinvents the sport.”

Frost nudges Tod over with his forearm and drapes over him for the cover.

ONE!

TWO!

THRE-

The crowd gasps in disbelief as their celebrated baby face brings up a limp shoulder to stop the count.

Riley: “FOR CHRIST’S SAKE! SCREW IT FROST! GO FOR THE CROSSBOW TO THE EYE!”

Both men lay winded on the mat and slowly roll over to their sides. Long hunches over on his knees to watch both men.

Stevens: “Long forgoes the standing eight count, obviously not wanting this grueling match up to end in such a manner.”

Riley: “Really he can’t count that high.”

The wrestlers tremble to their feet and turn to face each other. Frost plants himself and jets out his arm for the Hell Freezes Over, but the big man has greatly slowed and Tod deftly jutes to his right and rams his head into Frost’s battered chin. His head snaps back, but deKindes swiftly brings it back down to tuck under his arm. Without thinking about it and with adrenaline coursing through his veins, Tod hoists Frost up off his feet in the vertical suplex position.

Stevens: “CEREBRAL DRIVER, THE BACK-UP FINISHER!”

Tod goes to twist Frost around into the hangman’s position, but his sweaty and ragged grip slips. Frost flips over to his feet and snakes an arm up to break Tod’s hold on his head as he clamps it around his neck and drops down.

Riley: “FROST LITERALLY SHAKES THE RING WITH AN INVERTED DDT! IT’S ALL OVER!”

He limp arm is enough for the cover.

ONE!

TWO!

THREE-

Stevens: “KICK OUT!”

The fans are apeshit as they can’t fathom Tod still hanging on. The fierce enemies once again roll to their sides and make the painful trek up to their feet. Frost teeters forward and Tod spins around him, once more grabbing the pump handle.

Riley: “Tod is comatose, he already failed with that one once.”

Tod lifts Frost up and lays him across his chest for a body slam as the fans pop. Tod’s face goes blank and his eyelids droop as the burden of holding the near 300 pounder up collapses him. Frost wilts on top for the inadvertent pin.

Stevens: “HE COULDN’T HOLD HIM!”

ONE!

TWO!

THREE!

DING DING DING

Funyon: “Here is your winner, FRRRRRROOOOOOSSSSSST!”

The crowd boos as Frost continues laying on top of Tod, both men too tired to move.

Stevens: “What an effort by deKindes, but in the end, Frost’s mass was too much for him.”

Riley: “Tod might have the Sara Sequence in his arsenal, but Frost has the Sarah Lee Sequence in his too keep him too heavy for the average sized wrestler to slap power moves on.”

Stevens: “We’ll be back after this.”

The camera fades as Frost finally flops off of Tod and on his back, both men beyond exhausted.

August 10, 2002

Storm returns to the arena that I can’t name at the moment, only to hear the cheery pop sounds of Faith No More's 'Epic' funk over the stereo system, as the crowd electrifies with cheers! A single spotlight shines down on the ramp, as the one letter wrestling wonder known as Z throws aside the curtain, shuffling his way down the ramp. Noticed by many, he is wearing a bandaged up head from his match last Smarkdown.

Funyon: “Ladies and gentleman! The following contest is scheduled for one fall… and it is for the S-W-F Hardcore Championship! Introducing first! He is the challenger! He hails from Trenton, New Jersey! He stands at Six feet even, and tips the scales at 215 pounds! He is able to find the ring himself, people, so no escort is needed, and is a member of the Midnight Carnival! ZEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!”

Z spins on his heel, banging off a quick salute to the crowd, before rolling under the bottom rope. He paces around the ring, scanning the crowd, he smiles as he starts to gab with some of the rowdy Z fans.

Stevens: “We are back here at Storm folks and it is time for our hardcore title match!”

Riley: “Quite the show we had! Including this man’s stablemate, Chris Raynor, taking on Silent!”

Stevens: “That was quite a strap match to open our show! Now Z was one to challenge Silent last week, and didn’t fair too well! Which if you noticed, he is wearing those bandages, from bleeding pretty badly against the self proclaimed Slaughterer.”

Riley: “If you think that was bad… against some scary bumpee… think how bad he’ll fair against the unbeatable hardcore champ!”

Stevens: “Jay Dawg has been extremely impressive in the hardcore division as of late. He seems to have started a rivalry with the X-Force-9, specifically Annie Eclectic and Ash Ketchum… but at the same time, has claimed that he wants a piece of the retired HVille Thugg.”

Fireworks explode over top of the ring in the rafters, making the man inside jump in fear. Pyro explodes on the entrance ramp, leaving it extra smoky as the lights go out...

“THIS

IS

MAH

HOUSE!!!”

The voice of Jay Dawg echoes through the arena, igniting the start for Rammstein's "Du Haste" to thunder over the speakers without the lyrics... The heavy beats get the crowd into a state of anger as JD steps through the curtains, his hardcore title strapped around his waist and his head down. He walks to the top of the ramp, slowly raising his head. He stares straight at Z, although the eyes remained closed. Z wonders what is going on, as JD lowers his head again, although a smile without good intentions is now plastered on his face.

Funyon: “And his opponent! He hails from Vancouver, British Columbia! He stands at Six feet Four inches and weighs in at 250 pounds! The S-W-F Hardcore champion! He is a member of the Creative Control… JAMIE ‘JAY DAWG’ DRAZON!!!”

JD enters the ring, he stands up and places his hands on his thighs, and slowly cricks his neck. He steps back into his corner, and rests on the turnbuckles. He slowly steps forward, and unstraps the title off his waist. He throws the title into the center of the ring and invites Z to take a look.

Stevens: “Jay Dawg looks to be teasing the lovable Z!”

Riley: “Then treat him like a teddy bear, where he kicks his head in!”

Stevens: “I don’t want to know about your childhood, you sick freak.”

Z takes a look at the title, while keeping an eye on JD he reaches down. Suddenly, JD waves his hands, shaking his head. He walks past the title and Z and calls for a mic. Upon receiving the mic, JD looks down at Z, and chuckles.

Jamie: “Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa! Zed, is it?”

Z gives a nod.

Jamie: “Ok. Now from what I saw last week, you got the hell kicked out of you by Silent in a hardcore match. Now are you sure you want to go one on one with the hardcore champion? I mean, Stubby made this match, but you can just forfeit right here.”

JD hands the mic over to Z. The crowd goes wild, angered at Jay Dawg’s suggestion, but feeling the sympathy for Z. Z looks to his left, letting the crowd erupt in his favor, then snaps his head to his right, the same thing happening. Finally Z looks toward JD, and lets his answer be known.

Z: “…”

Z swings hard, microphone in hand, smacking Jay Dawg in the side of the head with it. JD drops to a knee, as Z pulls him up into a facelock. JD easily spins out and applies a hammerlock to Z. Applying some pressure, Z feels the pain, tapping his shoulder, trying to relieve some of it. Z bends down, then spins around, applying a hammerlock to JD on the way. JD reaches back, grabbing Z in a ¾ nelson facelock and snaps forward, flipping Z over hard and fast with a snapmare takedown. Z rebounds to his feet, and charges at JD. The hardcore champ just steps forward, flattening the one letter wonder with a stiff shoulder block.

Stevens: “Nice bit of wrestling from these two!”

Riley: “JD can squash Z in any battle out there!”

JD reaches down, pulling Z to his feet. He throws him off the ropes, and quickly thrusts out for a clothesline. Z ducks the blow, ricocheting off the ropes and coming back hard, smashing JD with an ultra stiff arm grenade! JD hits the mat hard, but sits right back up again. He gets to his feet and Z is right on top of him. Z pulls JD for an Irish whip, but JD reverses, throwing Z into the turnbuckles. Z leaps in mid move, landing on the second turnbuckle, turning his head to see JD rushing for him, and leaps off with a cross body!

One…

Two…

JD presses Z off his chest. He sits back up once more, shaking his head of the cobwebs developed. The crowd is getting behind the lovable loser as he pulls JD to his feet. Z grabs the head of JD and smashes his forehead into it with a headbutt. JD takes a step black, his already closed eyes are squinting. Z drops to a knee, grabbing his forehead in pain. JD once more shakes away the cobwebs and looks at Z who is back to his feet. Z rushes forward, and JD sidesteps, shoving him towards the ropes. Z bounces back from the cables right into the grip of JD, who lifts him high above his head, elevating him into the air before bringing him crashing down over his knee with the deadly backbreaker. Zed’s inverted body bends over the knee of Jay Dawg in ways that nature did not intend. JD tosses Z off his knee and makes the cover.

One…

Two…

T… and Z with the kick out.

Stevens: “One thing I have noticed about these men, they have an unusual ability to take punishment by the bucket loads!”

Riley: “He just kicked out of a backbreaker. Jeez.”

JD looks down at Z, who hasn’t moved since kicking out. He crawls backward to the ropes, keeping an eye on the challenger as he does. JD slips under the ropes and lifts up the ring apron. He grabs a hold of a large black object, and yanks it out of the protection. JD gets a closer look, and turns to anger.

Stevens: “It’s a giant innertube! Hah hah! I bet this is Z’s doing!”

JD looks at the giant circular object, finally deciding to throw it into the ring. He reaches under once more, grabbing something smaller. He pulls it out to realize it’s a cookie sheet. JD opens his eyes for half a second, only so he can roll them, then close them again. JD tosses the sheet into the ring, and instead of gambling with the surprises under the ring he turns around, throwing Funyon and the bellboy out of their chairs. JD grabs both of the chairs and tosses them into the ring.

Riley: “We about to get hardcore, yo!”

Stevens: “Yes… this looks to be the good stuff!”

JD slides into the ring himself, looking down at Z. He reaches down, and clasps his hand around the throat of Z, yanking him off the mat with ease. JD reaches down and grabs the throat with his other hand. JD is about to lift Z off the mat, when mischief arises. Letting Z stand, he reaches down and grabs a hold of the cookie sheet. With the one hand, he swings hard, smashing the cookie sheet into the head of Z! WHAP!! The human punching bag falls to the mat and begins to twitch. JD looks down at Z, wondering why he went down so hard. JD lifts the cookie sheet up, and slams it down into the bandaged cranium of Z. WHAP!! The sheet wraps itself around the head and face of Z.

Riley: “Heh heh! Now we can call him Zookie!”

Stevens: “Huh?”

Riley: “I did it all for the Zookie, what, the Zookie, what, the Zookie!”

JD steps over the sheet covered face of Z, letting the one letter wonder squirm. JD lifts off the mat, stepping directly on the nose. “OWWWWEEEEEEEEE!!!” Z squirms, but the cookie sheet prevents his sight as well. He swings desperately at JD, who starts to grind his foot.

Riley: “Come on Z, the pain is too much! Tap out!”

Stevens: “Shut up! Jay Dawg is having too much fun humiliating Z right now!”

JD releases most of the weight, stepping down but keeping one foot over top. He turns to the ref and points him to the mat. “Count!” is what he shouts, and the ref obliges.

ONE…

TWO…

TH…No! Z gets his shoulder up, and JD just shrugs. Stepping off of the sheet, he pulls Z to his feet. The cookie sheet remains stuck to his face. JD can’t help but grin, as he pulls his fist back, and punches straightforward, cracking the sheet so hard, that it knocks Z back to the mat.

Riley: “The sheet, ha ha, is still stuck to his head. That’s great! It’s what that dirty Carnie gets for not greasing them up!”

JD once again pulls Z off the mat, grabbing the back of his cargo pants, he pulls him into a waistlock. JD looks back, spotting the innertube and chairs he powers up. Z locks his ankles into the back of JD kneecaps, and suddenly rolls forward, pinning JD with the victory roll! “CARNIVAL!!!” is what Z shouts out, his new facemask echoing it out to all.

ONE…

TWO…

THR… JD kicks out. Z gets to his feet and is met by JD, who grabs him in a collar/elbow tie up. DING!! A straight out kick to the nuts drops JD to his knees.

Stevens: “Galatea special!”

Z finally peals the cookie sheet off his face, and swings it at JD. WHAP!! JD doesn’t move, still holding his groin. Z looks at the trashed cookie sheet, with the imprint of his face on it, throwing it to the crowd. A small scramble starts up for the fans who want a souvenir, and Z grabs one of Jay Dawg’s chairs. Z lifts it up, and smashes it down over the head of JD. CRACK!! JD continues sitting there, holding his groin. The fans all stomp their feet as Z looks down at JD, begging him to do it. Finally JD falls forward, landing on his face and the crowd goes wild. Z rolls JD over onto his back, and instead of going for the pin, he grabs the arms of JD and pulls them upward, trapping them under the legs. Z pushes JD off the mat and to his knees, before sitting on his back, successfully applying the Nelbina!

Riley: “Oh joy, the most useless submission in the galaxy!”

Stevens: “You mean world, star wars boy?”

“Let’s Go Zee!” shouts the challenger, clapping along as he keeps JD down. The crowd starts to clap along, as Z makes some poses. Flexing his muscles, doing Hulkam…errr…Zedamania. The crowd’s cheers go up a few decibels as Z ends his poses, getting to his feet and stalks JD. Taunting the champion to get to his feet. JD staggers along, making the journey. Z picks up the chair and drops it behind JD. He pulls him beside, grapevining the leg, and applying a side headlock. Z pushes forward, before snapping back with the side Russian leg sweep onto the chair! Z pulls the chair out from under JD and places it over his face. He presses down hard on the chair, his cheery expression turning sour as the ref starts the pin.

ONE…

TWO…

THR… JD gets a shoulder up. Z presses the chair into Jay Dawg’s face, then pounces to his feet. Z heads to the turnbuckles and leaps to the second rope. He turns around and dives straight for JD, smashing the tip of his elbow straight into the chair. A cover follows.

ONE…

TWO…

THRE…NO!! JD once more gets his shoulder up.

Stevens: “Some close falls by Z! What a battle this kid is putting up! A true Carnie fighter!”

Riley: “I’m gonna puke.”

JD pushes the chair off his face and gets to his feet. Z is quick to meet him, kicking him in the gut, and pulls him into a headscissors. Z underhooks both of Jay Dawg’s arms, but the Dawgmeister powers out, back body dropping Z over his shoulder. Z quickly gets to his feet as JD catches his breath. The crowd starts to cheer for Z to finish it as JD turns around. Z stomps his feet into the mat three times, getting a massive pop, and thrusts forward with the Blizzard of oZ superkick. JD catches the foot and spins Z around. JD applies a front waistlock, lifts Z up, pivots, and slams him into the mat with a UFC Belly-to-Belly suplex! JD grabs the chairs, making sure both are folded, he places them over the face of Z.

Stevens: “Uh-oh! We’ve seen this before!”

Riley: “It’s time for Jay Dawg to finish this pesky Carnie!”

JD climbs the turnbuckles, crouching at the top, he measures the distance of Z. JD spreads his arms out and launches himself like a missile, flying for Z with the Diving headbutt! Z suddenly snaps his body up, leaving two chairs in path for Jay Dawg’s cranium! SMASH!! JD bounces facefirst off the chairs, rolling to a sitting position and clutching his face, shouting out curses like “Motherfucker.”

Stevens: “A resourceful counter by Z!”

Riley: “Resourceful? He just moved out of the way you dumb fuck!”

Stevens: “Don’t make me smack you.”

JD continues to hold his face, stomping in pain. Z helps him to his feet, but is rocked with a stiff forearm by JD. The champ pulls Z into a facelock, but Z pushes him away. Z bounces off the ropes, and JD grins, wanting him to return. As JD lunges forward, Z slides through his legs, grabbing his arm and lifting it up, straight into the groin. While Z is lying down, he holds onto the wrist and kicks JD in the ass. Z still hangs onto the arm, returning to his feet, he snaps his leg over top of Jay Dawg’s head, applying a headlock with his leg. He brings his other leg up, and smashes it into the mat with the Krazy Krash! JD bounces headfirst into the mat, and Z hangs on for the armbar, releasing the hold he makes the cover.

ONE…

Stevens: “Z looks to have it here!”

TWO…

THREE…NO!! Jay Dawg gets his shoulder up by the nanosecond!

Riley: “Oh but the fighting warrior known as Jay Dawg kicks out!”

Stevens: “The falls are getting dangerously close! We may see a Carnie hardcore champion tonight!”

Riley: “Pffft! The chances of that happening are the same as you getting laid tonight!”

JD rolls his shoulder up, coughing out as the pain is beginning to become evident. Z gets up, deciding what it will take to defeat the hardcore champion. He looks over at the turnbuckle, and as he walks forward, he suddenly realizes the inner tube beside him. The urge is too great for the Carnie and he picks it up, rolling it toward JD. He picks the Tube up and slams it into the chest of JD. The champ doesn’t move.

Riley: “That idiot is hitting him with air!”

Stevens: “I think Z is just trying to have a little fun!”

Z continuously slams the tube into the chest and abdomen of JD, getting a loud pop from the crowd before letting it rest on JD. Z bounces off the ropes, and leaps high in the air, diving onto the inner tube with a cannon ball! He bounces off the tube ass first, and ends up rolling backward to his feet. Z finally realizes what he is doing and regains some sense. He moves the inner tube and places a chair over top of JD. He heads to the turnbuckles, climbing them.

Stevens: “Z is looking to finish with his Shotgun Moonsault!”

Riley: “Pffft! It didn’t work for JD, it won’t work bitch Bitchface!”

JD twists over, leaving the chair into the mat. He heads to the turnbuckles, climbing behind Z, who just turned around. JD gives him a punch to the gut, doubling him over on the top turnbuckle. JD climbs to the top with him, locking on a facelock. He applies the suplex set up, and starts to lift, but Z blocks! The crowd suddenly goes insane as Z lifts Jay Dawg up, and dives off the turnbuckles with the front suplex, flying forward for the mat… Both men are parallel to the ground with the chair right underneath of them! Z looks down in fear, as JD and himself head for the mat. SMACK!! The sound of two faces smashing the steel can be heard world ride, or at least around the arena.

Stevens: “WHOA!!! That had to hurt!”

Riley: “What a move by the man known as Z!”

Stevens: “If Z can get the pin here, it is all over!”

Riley: “Same can be said for JD!”

Stevens: “I guess they would have to move first!”

The ref looks down at both men, and decides to start a count.

“ONE!!”

“TWO!!”

Stevens: “The ref is going to count both men out!”

Riley: “Can they do that!? It’s a hardcore match!”

Stevens: “Well all Jay Dawg has to do is stay down and he retains!”

Riley: “I’d support that, but JD is a little too stubborn!”

“FIVE!!”

“SIX!!”

“SEVEN!!”

Z starts to push JD over.

“EIGHT!!”

Z succeeds in getting JD onto his back.

“NINE!!”

Z drapes his arm over for the pin!

ONE!

TWO!!

THREE!!! NO!! Jay Dawg gets his shoulder off the mat by a half inch!

Stevens: “Oh my god! This match is in a whole new level!”

Z gets to his feet, followed closely by JD. Z pulls Jay Dawg inward, and applies an inverted facelock. He swings his arm over, but Jay Dawg catches it!

Riley: “He just blocked the Turn ‘N’ Burn, made famous by Divefire!”

Stevens: “I’d assume Jay Dawg would know how to block that by now! Considering how many times Divefire kicked his ass!”

Riley: “Burn for the heavy hitter.”

Jay Dawg suddenly opens his eyes, doubled over backwards, and holding the arm over Z. He thrusts his leg up, and stiffly kicks the one letter wonder in the back of the head! Z releases the inverted facelock to see Jay Dawg leap in the air, thrusting out with the Thai Roundhouse! Z ducks the blow, and stands back for JD. He thrusts forward with the superkick, and Jay Dawg catches it! He lets out the grin of a sadist as he spins Z around clockwise, leaping up and kicking him with the Thai Roundhouse, spinning him counter clockwise!

Riley: “Sweet Tooth Loosening!”

Z remains standing, although extremely dazed. JD looks back and grabs the inner tube. He swings it full force at Z, letting it go over the head of him! The force of the inner tube allows the hole to go through Z, trapping his arms inside! Stuck inside an inner tube, Z cowers in fear, just as JD picks up one of the chairs. He looks at Z, shaking his head. “I warned you!” and swings the chair full force! SMACK!! Z hits the mat hard, but the innertube bounces him right back up! JD swings again! SMACK!!! And Z goes down hard, but the inner tube bounces him up even faster! Just as Z returns, JD swings the chair like a baseball bat! SMACK!!

Riley: “It’s a homerun!”

JD gives a wink to Grand Slam, as he smashes the chair into Z’s head once more! The Carnies’ newest recruit bounces off the mat once more, and returns to his feet. If he were fully conscious, he’d wish he’d stop doing that. JD lifts the chair over his head, and brings it down like an ax, crashing over top of Z’s head! Z timbers down to the mat. SMACK!! But doesn’t bounce back up. The back of his head hitting the other chair, Z lies on the mat. JD takes the chair, and places it down into the throat of Z, looking down, almost begging Z to fight back as he chokes him with the chair. The ref sees the shoulders down and makes the count.

ONE!!

TWO!!!

THREEEE!!!!!

Jay Dawg stomps on the inner tube, popping it, releasing Z from his trap. JD drops the chair over top of Zed’s face, as “Du Haste” hits the speakers. The ref mercifully calls for the bell as JD allows his eyes to close.

Funyon: “The winner of this match, and STILL S-W-F Hardcore Champion! JAY DAWG!!!”

Stevens: “Someone get some assistance for Z!”

JD walks around the ring, letting the ref pass him his title. He raises his hands as the crowd lets out the jeers, taunts and insults. He taps his hardcore title with a smile, as the camera focuses on Z. Blood is beginning to trickle through his bandages.

Stevens: “Z has been opened up once more! What a sick ending by JD!”

Riley: “Ha ha! I love it! Jay Dawg keeps topping himself! That little bugger Z put up a harder battle then I thought!”

Stevens: “Oh shut up!”

JD calmly exits the ring, title over his shoulder he walks up the ramp.

Stevens: “It is time for a commercial folks. But stay tuned. We have a Main Event that will make your mouth water!”

Riley: “And we’ll see Chris Wilson regain what is rightfully his. Hey Mark, remember when he beat you?”

Before Mark can reply, commercial hits.

August 10, 2002

Erek Taylor is backstage in a open area, surrounded by boxes and anvil cases, chatting with one of the television producers, who happens to be an attractive female. “So what about you and me tonight after the show? I mean, a guy like me and a girl like you, it’d be…”

Suddenly, Taylor turns, noticing a presence behind him. Taylor turns, and finds himself face to face with the Boston Strangler. He glances back toward the woman, but she’s walking down the hall, talking to Ben Hardy, who has a big grin on his face.

“What’s the matter, Strangler? Is your repressed sexuality making you so bitter that you have to ruin OTHER people’s love lives?” Taylor looks at Strangler, a look of annoyance on his face. “Look, I don’t have the ICTV Title anymore, so go bother Fallout or something. I can't give you a rematch if I don't have the title. Is that getting through to your peanut sized brain of yours? So, no rematch.”

Strangler just stares at Taylor, with a slight hint of a smile. “Taylor, I’ll give you one more chance to reconsider. But if you don’t, you’re going to force me to do some things that I’d rather not do. I’m not a violent man by nature, but…”

“What the hell are you talking about? You beat the living hell out of me almost daily last month!”

“You see, Taylor, that’s what you do when you try to pry people away from their loved ones. They fight for them, they do whatever it takes to stay together. You would do the same for X Force 9. And because you’ve decided to try and pry me away from Wilson, you will pay…unless you make the right decision and give me my rematch.”

Erek looks at Strangler, a baffled look on his face. “What the hell are you talking about? Prying you away from Wilson? Fighting for loved ones? Have you gone off your rocker? I swear, you’re crazier than that guy on the news who claims he can turn monkey feces into gold!”

Strangler’s smile increases a little more, and he looks down at the defiant, angry Erek Taylor. “Taylor, you know what you’ve been doing. And unless you give me that rematch, you will pay for your actions.”

“HELL NO! No rematch! I’ve made my point, I beat you, and I’m moving on! YOU DO NOT MATTER TO ME! Just leave me alone, go your separate way, and stay the hell out of my business!”

Strangler looks disappointed, but the look vanishes before Taylor can read it for what it is. “Very well, Taylor. But just remember…you brought this on yourself.” With that, Strangler turns on his heels and stalks down one of the many hallways before turning around a corner and vanishing into the depths of the arena. Taylor looks down after him, trying to figure out what just happened.

“Another nutjob. This is what the SWF has gone to.”

August 10, 2002

"Welcome -"

You can hear Riley burst into laughter as Mark Stevens is rudely cut off by the flickering off the screen. The screen turns black, white, and grey, as images of riots and war play in the background, behind the fuzzy screen. It suddenly stops, as "Save Yourself" by Stabbing Westward begins to play, drawing an extremely negative response from the fans... ok, they're booing like hell, as Sacred, the crazy Australian, walks out. His eyes dart around the crowd as they welcome him with jeers of resentment. Sacred just shakes his head and focuses on the ring, as Stevens finally gets a word in.

"Bloody Aussie!" He yells out in frustration. "Ugh, anyway, on with the next match on the card, which pits the ruthless Australianism of Sacred, against the impressive newcomer to the SWF, Renegade, who last week scored a big win over Lerrin Breggan and Sacred, with the help of Annie Eclectic of course." Stevens finishes saying.

"You can tell just by looking at Sacred that he's not out here to preach, but he's looking for revenge, and in his state of mind, anything can happen..." Riley says, hoping for the worse.

Sacred reaches the ring and steps up onto the ring apron, and climbs through the ropes, as Funyon gets on the stick, booming to the audience, "Ladies and gentleman, the following match is scheduled for one fall. Introducing first... from Adelaide Australia! Standing at six foot one, and weighing two hundred and thirty one pounds... please welcome the Ruthless Australianism of... SACRED!"

Sacred smirks as he circles inside the ring, gazing out at the fans, thinking what low life scum they are. The fans in turn boo the shit out of him. The Aussie's attention soon turns to the entranceway, as "PICK UP THE PACE!" Is blared through the speakers, and "Sic" by Slipknot begins to play, and Renegade storms through the curtain soon after, getting a great response from the fans as he prepares to do battle with the Aussie, looking rather... crazy in the ring, as his burning gaze catches Renegade, cruel intentions flooding into his mind. "Sacred's freaking me out right now. "Riley blurts out. "Someone's eyes should NOT look like that. Renegade doesn't look bothered at all though."

"He'll be riding high on his win on Smarkdown, and will be desperate to impress everyone in the SWF, and a win here will certainly make people take notice." Stevens replies.

"Having naked chicks dance with him at ringside would sure get him noticed." Riley adds with a sleazy grin.

"Give it up Romeo, there's not much chance of that happening... unless you talked to creative control." Stevens replies.

"Hey, good idea..." Riley looks at Sacred in his current state, and wisely decides against it. "Uhm, maybe later..."

Renegade walks down the ramp, not wearing a smile, except he looks pretty fired up, and no wonder, the fans are cheering for him. Sacred just grins and shakes his head as Renegade approaches the ring apron, not letting him get into the ring. While Renegade walks around the ring, looking for an opening, Funyon yells out, "And his opponent, from New York City, standing six foot six and weighing two hundred and sixty pounds... break it down for the Renegade mastaaaaaaaa, one more time for the Renegade mastaaaaa... He is... RENEGADE!"

Riley chuckles from ringside, "Silly Funyon, trying to be popular. Failing miserably of course."

"Sacred is already playing mind games..." Stevens notes, as Sacred waves his finger in the air from side to side, indicating to the rookie he has no intention of letting him into the ring, a few quick boots to the head back it up. "I doubt such childish stunts will discourage Renegade though."

And they don't, as Renegade jumps onto the apron, and Sacred comes charging, trying for a Kamikaze through the ropes! But Renegade simply steps back off, and Sacred goes flying out onto the concrete! Gade manages a smile as he lifts Sacred up, giving him a few of those stiff right hands of his. "Almost a rookie mistake from Sacred..." Stevens comments. "Either he's still affected by ring rust, or, he's lost his touch after all this time?"

"That can't be." Riley replies. "We all know Sacred's had some rough times, he just needs *one* thing to go right for him, then the chips will all fall into place..." Teddy Long, the notorious referee just watches on, not able to ring the bell since Renegade didn't step through the ropes. Renegade knocks Sacred towards the crowd barrier, delivering some hard shots that almost echo through the arena. Renegade takes a few steps back, then runs at the Australian, arm outstretched for a clothesline... but Sacred ducks, sending the X-Force Niner sailing over the barrier and to the floor!

"This isn't a hardcore match, but since the bell hasn't rung, it is for the time being!" Riley yells, watching Renegade climb to his feet, shaken from his fall. Sacred recovers from his earlier tumble, and turns around, clocking Renegade from over the barrier with a forearm. Another forearm, and Sacred is able to grab Renegade in a suplex, and lift him up. Sacred falls backward and suplexes Renegade onto the concrete! Gade is stunned, but there wasn't much height on the suplex, so it wasn't as bad as it could have been. Sacred climbs onto his feet and picks Renegade up like road kill, throwing him into the ring, and finally the bell rings. "Ding, Ding, Ding!"

"A suplex onto the concrete?!" Grand Slam exclaims, grimacing as he watches it on the replay. "These guys aren't wasting any time! I guess Creative Control and X-Force Nine are desperately trying to out do each other., just like the Carnival and the Magnificent numbers." Sacred rolls into the ring, as Renegade gets to his feet, his head spinning. Sacred shakes out the cob webs, and then fires a forearm at Gade, connecting with his jaw, but Renegade fires right back with a right hand. Forearm, punch, forearm, punch. The two go toe to toe, but Renegade's superior strength and better blows knock Sacred back into the corner. "Sacred had no hope of winning a fist fight like that with Renegade, he has some of the best right hands I've seen on a rookie." Stevens notes. Renegade goes to school on Sacred, stomping on his stomach, beating him down into the corner. The Aussie goes old skool on Rene though, grabbing his ankles and pulling then upwards, sending Renegade to the mat. Sacred uses the ropes to get up, before grabbing Renegade's leg and attempting to turn the Renegade master over!

"Sacred's trying to get the Solution Nine on Gade!" Stevens yells, as Renegade manages to fight, blocking Sacred's attempts.

Renegade is up to the task though, knocking Sacred away with some boots to the chest. Sacred stumbles backward as Renegade gets to his feet, kicks Sacred in the stomach... lock on a front face lock, looking for a DDT... Sacred reverses though, lifting Renegade up and turning around, placing him on the top rope. Sacred tries to climb up with the master, but Renegade beats him away with some right hands. Renegade stands up on the top turnbuckle... Leaps off, shoulder's and arms aiming for Sacred's ribs... nailing him! Sacred goes down, clutching at his ribs, winded and sore. Renegade hooks him by the leg and the crowd pops for the Masta.

O

N

E

T - But it only gets a one count, as Sacred kicks out forcefully, not wanting to be out done. "Great move from Renegade, all two hundred and sixty pounds taking Sacred down!" Riley says ecstatically. Those two hundred odd pounds stand back up, and put the boots to Sacred, focusing particularly on the ribs. Sacred coughs and splutters, rolling away and slowly climbing to his feet. Renegade keeps up the constant pressure, grabbing Sacred by the arm, pulling Sacred towards himself... driving his knee into his ribcage! Sacred falls to his knee's, covering his ribs from further attack. "This is a great plan..." The three time tag champ says from ringside. "Renegade's focusing on Sacred's ribs, which may even rule out him using the Cruel Fate."

"What a bastard!" Is Riley simple and unintelligent reply. Sacred crawls away again, using the turnbuckle's to help himself up. Renegade runs to the corner and hits Sacred with a flurry of punches, some to the temple, and then to the ribs. Renegade seems pleased with his work as he takes a few steps back. He ducks his head and then charges, his aim, Sacred's midsection... but NO! Sacred dives out of the corner, and Renegade's shoulder crushes into the ring post! "Listen to the impact!" Riley yells as he looks at Renegade, mangled around the post like a car mangled around a light post.

"Just in time for Sacred..." Stevens comments. "Renegade is showing he's wise beyond his wrestling years, picking at Sacred's ribs, weakening him until the final death blow." Sacred takes a little time to recover, then quickly hooks his arm through Renegade's legs, pulling him out of the turnbuckle and rolling him up in a school boy... placing both of his feet on the middle rope for leverage! Ref counts...

O

N

E

Crowd is in an uproar at the blatant cheating used by the Aussie.

T

W

O - But Renegade manages to power out. The X-Force Niner gets to his feet, trying a clothesline on Sacred, but only hitting air. Sacred turns around and leaps into the air, catching Rene in the jaw with a Harlem Side Kick! Sacred breathes heavily after the move, as it put tremendous strain on his ribs. Renegade climbs to his feet as Sacred surges through the pain, whipping the rookie into the ropes. Renegade comes barrelling back... getting knockdown with a flying forearm! Sacred tries to build some momentum, quickly following the forearm with a leaping leg drop off the ropes, hitting Renegade across the chest. Sacred gets back onto his feet, inspired to fight on, but noticeably slower due to his ribs aching. Sacred stands about four feet away from Gade, waiting for him to get up. Rene stands back up, as Sacred leaps up onto the top rope, springing off with a fly kick... but Sacred misses Renegade, managing to land on his feet. Sacred turns back around and... walks right into a Flowing DDT! Sacred crashes to the mat, as the fans roar. Renegade remains a picture of concentration though...

"Sacred tried one to many daring moves, and it cost him, a great equaliser from the Renegade Masta." Stevens notes. Renegade turns Sacred onto his back and covers him loosely.

O

N

E

T

W

O - But that gets a two count also. The crowd gets behind the X-Force Niner as he takes it to Sacred and is winning on all fronts. Rene lifts the prone Sacred to his feet, whipping him into the ropes. Sacred comes barrelling back, as Renegade lifts the Aussie up onto his shoulders, readying for a whiplash Spinebuster! But Sacred quickly reacts, hitting Renegade with an elbow blow to the back of the head... once... twice... Renegade let's go, stunned. The Rookie stumbles forward, and Sacred lifts him onto his shoulder's, letting his legs dangle. Sacred pushes his arms into Rene's legs, and Gade is sent slamming to the mat with tremendous force. "Black Number One!" Riley yells. 'It would be folly of Renegade to try one of Sacred's signature moves, no one pulls it off quite like the crazy Australian does!"

"Man, there sure is a lot of Crazy Australians... Steve Irwin comes to mind." Stevens says with a slight grin.

"That guy is just a freak..." Riley replies. "He doesn't care about pain! Actually, he'd be a great no seller in the SWF." Back to the action now, and Sacred has an elementary leg lock applied on Renegade, causing some pain, but the fans are behind Gade as he struggles to get free. Renegade being the taller of the two, he manages to kick Sacred in the face and break free. Renegade catches his breath, kneeling on our fours while Sacred climbs to his feet, angered by the shot to the face. Sacred runs at the Gadester, aiming a kick right to his ribcage... but Rene counters, performing a simple Fireman’s Carry! Sacred hits the mat, as Renegade swiftly locks on a crouching sleeper. The Aussie is quick to counter, grabbing Renegade by his head and flipping him over his body with a modified Snapmare. Sacred applies another simple hold, this time an armbreaker, wrenching at Renegade's joints, but Gade manages to fight out of that too, flipping over Sacred with his 260 pounds and delivering one straight arm punch to the ribs. Sacred groans and rolls up into a ball, as a slight smirk appears on Renegade's face. "That was just too easy for Renegade, Sacred must really be hurtin'." Stevens says.

"A smart move after some clever mat wrestling, but Renegade fires on of those hard fists into Sacred's stomach, and stops *Any* of Sacred's momentum dead in it's tracks." Riley replies studiedly. Renegade realises his ticket to victory, and capitalises on it, lifting Sacred to his feet, and then into the air... crunching his mid section on his knees! Sacred groans even louder as Renegade mercilessly attacks his ribs with some brutal stomps, which the crowd seems to love. Gade lifts the veteran to his feet and fires off a few quick lefts, before whipping the Aussie into the corner. Gade is weary of past experiences as he charges Sacred, head down... but this time he connects driving his shoulder into Sacred's midsection! Renegade keeps his body hunched over, nailing shoulder charge after shoulder charge, making the Aussie cry in pain.

"This is just impressive brawling from Renegade, his stomps, punches, are right on the money tonight, and Sacred is feeling the hurt." Stevens comments.

"Sacred has to do something, and fast, or he's gonna lose another match, and more of his mind..." Riley grimly forecasts.

Gade charges one last time, and then lifts Sacred up to the top rope. He soaks up some of the atmosphere from the crowd for a moment, and then climbs up with the Aussie... but a quick eye gouge sends his stumbling backward. Sacred stands up on the top rope... but Gade quickly whirls around and jabs Sacred in the stomach, once, twice, sitting him back down. "Look at that..." Stevens says. "Just when it looks like Sacred is about to mount some offence, Renegade goes for the ribs. I'm surprised Sacred let Gade get away with it, considering all his experience." The crowd pop each time Sacred is hit in the ribs, mocking him. Renegade climbs back up the Australian, nailing a few rights and lefts to the temple, before hooking Sacred's shoulder over his neck, and grabbing hold of his tights... Gade lifts Sacred off the turnbuckle... they both fly backward... and crash to the mat, Renegade hitting a, "Superplex!" Riley yells. "High Impact moves won't help, Sacred has to do something, by hook or by crook!"

Gade feels the recoil from the move, clutching at his back , while Sacred lies motionless, eyes closed, seeing the match slip away from his grasp. Renegade crawls over on top of Sacred and covers, the fans standing up, sensing a victory is at hand...

O

N

E!

The fans chant along...

T

W

O!

T

H

R - No! Sacred manages to get a shoulder up as the ref's hand comes down to the mat for the three count! Renegade just shakes his head, glaring at Teddy Long, mindful of a screw job, but Long maintains it was two and a half, and not a three count. "So, so close!" Stevens yells. Renegade growls and lifts Sacred to his feet. Renegade wraps his arms around Sacred, and throws him over his head with a capture suplex! Sacred hits the mat, but manages to twirl back onto his feet, still dazed and confused. It may have been the wrong move to get up though, as Renegade feels the crowd's heat rising, and he signals for the end, grabbing Sacred around the neck!

"This could be it, time for the RENEBREAK!" Riley yells.

"Sacred's got to do something, more of that Intense~! Australianism is in order!" Stevens shouts.

Riley just looks confused, "What the hell is that!?"

"I don't know... I just think it sounds cool..." Stevens replies, turning his head back to the action, hoping Riley asks no more.

Renegade runs to the ropes, bouncing off them and pulling forward, trying to bring Sacred's neck down... but the Aussie counters, pushing Renegade into the ropes! Gade is surprised as he bounces off the opposite ropes, turning around and charging back to Sacred... but the Australian hooks his arm under Gade's and lifts him up with all the energy he can muster, slamming him down to the canvas on his back and neck with the Spanish Inquisition! "This just might buy Sacred some time to rest!" Stevens yells. Both men lie flat on their backs as the ref begins to count, reaching two, but still no movement from either man. The fans clap, spurring Renegade on, desperately wanting him to pull out a victory. Teddy Long reaches a five count, as the fans and announcers wait eagerly to see who makes the first move...

Sacred moves his arm, trying to get on all fours, but stumbling each time. Teddy reaches seven as Sacred crawls over to Gade and slumps an arm across his chest, a weak pin, but a pin none the less. The fans stand up again, starting to murmur, fearing the worst...

O

N

E

T

W

O

T

H

R

E - NO! Renegade kicks out, and the fans respond with wild applause! "He's been in control all this time..." Riley begins, "He's not about to lie down after one move!" You can hear Sacred cursing himself in the ring, as Teddy Long holds up two fingers, indicating only a two count. The fans are still cheering as Renegade climbs to his feet, a little dazed but ok. Sacred gets to his feet as well

Straight away, Renegade targets Sacred ribs, driving his knee into his midsection, sending Sacred onto one knee, coughing and spluttering, groaning and moaning, his ribs burning with pain once again. Renegade senses a victory, as he hooks Sacred's arm over his shoulder and lifts him up by the tights, holding him vertically in the air, ready for a brain buster! But Sacred slides out the back, but isn't quick enough to mount and offence, and Renegade capitalises, Grabbing Sacred in a front face lock with one arm, trying to twist Sacred around for a swinging Neckbomb! But again, Sacred counters at the last moment, pushing Renegade away...

"Renegade's trying to finish this, but Sacred is being as stubborn as a mule, thwarting Gade's efforts at every post..." Stevens says, his eyes firmly fixed on the action. Gade growls as he sends his boot into Sacred's midsection, and then locks on a REVERSE face lock. The crowd begin to rumble as Renegade slowly lifts Sacred into the air, a reverse brain buster about to be executed...

But Sacred keeps hold of Gade's neck as he slips out the back, looking ready yo hit a reverse diving DDT... but he quickly turns Renegade around into a front face lock, lifts up one of his arms and leaps into the air, falling forwards an nailing Renegade with the CRUEL FATE!

"OH MY GOD, out of fucking no where!" Bobby yells like a maniac. "I didn’t think he could, but he did! He hit the Cruel Fate! But can he secure the win, or has Renegade already done the damage on his robs!?"

Sacred rolls around, in agonising pain after landing flat on his stomach to hit his finisher. Renegade just lays flat, not moving a muscle. The fans cry "Noooo!" as Sacred crawls over inch by inch, even if it hurts to do it. Sacred grabs Renegade and pushes him onto his back, slumping an arm onto his chest...

O

N

E

T

W

O

T

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R

E

E! YES! Sacred scores the victory, and the fans are livid! "He's done it, finally!" Stevens yells as Funyon gets on the mic, happy to announce, "The winner of this match... SACRED!" Most fans in the arena boo, but some cheer as Sacred continues to roll around, nearly coughing up blood as he does.

"Sacred was dominated by Renegade the whole match, but he pulled out a Cruel Fate, even though it hurt to do so." Riley cries. "If anyone doubts Sacred's determination, just watch that move again!" The replay is shown of the finish, as Sacred rolls out of the ring, voctourious, but in a world of hurt as he stumbles up the ramp, arm clutching his stomach, but one raised the crowd to acknowledge his victory.

"A great match, and a fucking impressive showing by the Renegade Masta! I see bug things in that man's future!" Riley yells

"Stop swearing please..." Stevens reminds Bobby.

"Ah shutup Mark, but anyway, stay tuned for more Storm, Tag Team aciton, NEXT!"

The picture slowly fades to a commercial, as the Australian flashes the metal signal, before heading to the back, Renegade just starting to come to his senses, an angered and bitter expression on his face...

August 10, 2002

As SWF Storm returns from a commercial for the Montreal Expos (The best farm team the Red Sox have!), the Nassau Coliseum fills with cheers from excited fans looking for more SWF action. The SmarkTron™ is emblazoned with the SWF logo as Mark Stevens and Bobby Riley welcome all 5 of the people watching at home back to the broadcast.

Mark Stevens: Welcome back to SWF Storm! Alongside Bobby Riley, I’m Mark Stevens, and we have a tag match coming up now, as Danny Williams and the Boston Strangler will take on Longdogger Pete and Erek Taylor in a tag match!

Bobby Riley: Well, if Strangler is gonna break the losing streak he’s on, he couldn’t have picked anyone better to fight. Unless, of course, LDP and Taylor cheat like they did at Ground Zero…

Riley is cut off as “Toxicity” by System of a Down starts to play through the arena. The arena is filled with boos as Danny Williams and the Boston Strangler appear on the top of the ramp, only drawing an increase in the number of boos. Strangler quickly mentions something to Danny before the two men start down the ramp, looking directly in front of them, ignoring the crowd.

Funyon: This is a tag team matchup! First, from the Magnificent Seven, weighing in at 544 pounds, they are Danny Williams and the Boston Strangler!

Strangler and Danny slide into the ring and quietly talk with each other as “Toxicity” dies down. The arena remains quiet for a few moments before “Operation Annihilate” by Powerman 5000 cranks through the Nassau Coliseum. The fans explode as a fired-up Erek Taylor and Longdogger Pete burst onto the stage. They start to jog down the ramp, slapping hands with fans along the way as Strangler and Danny stare at their approaching opponents with a look of disdain on their faces.

Funyon: And their opponents, from XF9, weighing in at 467 pounds, Erek Taylor and Longdogger Pete!

Pete and Erek slide into the ring and play to the fans as Strangler and Danny look on in disgust. Pete and Taylor quickly confer, and Strangler steps on to the apron, leaving a somewhat surprised Danny Williams alone in the ring with Longdogger Pete as Taylor exits the ring, his eyes locked on Strangler across the ring.

Stevens: Well it appears as if the rookie Danny Williams will start off against Longdogger Pete.

Riley: What a disgusting name! Will somebody PLEASE think of the children!?

DING! DING! DING! Danny and Pete walk out of their corners, and begin circling each other in the center of the ring. Both men stop, twitch their hands, and tie up in a grapple. Williams breaks the grapple, and pops Pete in the jaw with an elbow! Pete’s eyes widen in surprise before he fires back with a hard overhand right! CRACK! Williams head snaps back violently from the impact of the blow.

Stevens: And the power of Danny’s elbow is no match for the power of LDP’s punch.

Riley: But it was a closed fist punch, which is illegal! Cheating right off the bat from those XF9 punks!

A drowsy Williams stumbles backwards to his corner in a state of shock. The crowd pops while a bored Pete makes a crybaby face to kill some time. Williams looks to Strangler for some veteran wisdom, but only receives a glare and a gruff command ordering Williams back to the middle of the ring. Williams looks annoyed, but nods and follows Strangler’s instructions. Still off-center from Pete’s right hand, Williams cautiously approaches Pete with his hands raised high to protect his face. Pete just waves Williams on before waiting with his hands on his hips. Williams nervously tucks his chin in as he steps within Pete’s arm length. However, Pete easily breaks through his defenses with a kick to the mid section! “UMPH!” spits out Williams as he doubles over, out of breath. Pete follows with a couple of right hands, backing Williams into the ropes.

Stevens: Now Pete taking the advantage with those trademark right hands.

Riley: I swear, I don’t know why the ref is even in there if he can just use those closed fists so blatantly…

Pete shoots the punch drunk Williams off the ropes with an Irish whip and takes position in the center of the ring! Williams hits the ropes, and charges back at Pete. CRACK! The crowd “OOOOOs” as Williams runs right into Pete’s Big Boot! Williams hits the mat like a sack of potatoes. Pete looks down at the seemingly unconscious Danny and drops to the mat, looking for an early pin.

ONE!

TWO!

Strangler rushes into the ring, and breaks up the pin attempt with a stomp to the back of Pete’s head. Strangler goes back to his corner before the ref can even warn him. A bit pissed, Pete shoots a piercing glare at Strangler as he jerks Williams up by his tights. Pete locks his arms around Williams’ for a back waistlock!

Stevens: Pete setting Williams up for a German Suplex!

Riley: Dammit, it just isn’t fair! Why does everyone drop Williams on his head? I bet it’s MacPhisto’s fault…

Williams is aware enough to know that being in a back waistlock isn’t good, and desperately starts trying to pry Pete’s fingers apart. “Elbows, dammit! Elbows!!” shouts Strangler. But the warning is too late as Pete bends his knees, and heaves Williams off the mat.

Stevens: GERMAN SUPLEX!

But at the last second, Williams blasts Pete with a couple of nasty back elbows to the temple!

Riley: NO, called that one a little to early, Stevens! ELBOW! ELBOW! ELBOOOOOOW!

The stinging pain from Williams’ sharp elbows forces Pete to let go. Williams immediately runs into the ropes, and comes charging back at the briefly stunned Pete! Pete sees Williams charging with his elbow extended, and instinctively raises his leg up! CRACK! Williams runs right into another Big Boot! Strangler buries his face in his hands, sharing the embarrassment of his partner’s repeated rookie mistakes. Pete jerks Williams up with a front facelock, and walks him to his corner. Pete tags in the anxious Eric Talyor to a huge pop from the crowd! Talyor springboards into the ring, and quickly changes places with Pete.

Riley: Look at that show off with his fancy ring entrance.

Stevens: That “show off” is one of the most beloved wrestlers in the SWF, mainly due to that flashy style.

Riley: So what? If I don’t like him, he SUCKS. Period.

Pete climbs back onto the apron, not having even broken a sweat. With Williams still trapped in the front facelock, Taylor falls back to the mat with the DDT! Williams’ head bounces off the mat, and he flops over on his back. Taylor quickly hooks both of Williams’ legs for the pin.

ONE!

TWO!

NO! Williams kicks out with authority! Taylor applies a chinlock as Williams sits up. Williams powers his way to his feet, forcing Taylor to readjust with a side headlock. Williams throws some elbows into Taylor’s gut, momentarily knocking the breath out of him! Williams tightly locks his arms around Taylor’s waist, and hoists him off the mat.

Riley: BACKDROP DRIVAAAAAAH!

But Taylor blocks the lift attempt with his leg, and frantically starts driving elbows into the back of Williams’ neck! Realizing Taylor isn’t going to be caught off guard, Williams lowers him back to the mat.

Stevens: NO! That’s why you should call the moves after they happen.

Taylor punishes Williams for his defiance by adding a little twist to the headlock! “DAAAAAH!” cries Williams as his head is twisted in a direction it wasn’t meant to go. Looking for escape, Williams uses his weight advantage to run Taylor into the ropes and shoots him off! Williams slips out of the headlock, and takes position in the center of the ring! Taylor speeds across the ring, bounces off the ropes and comes charging back at Williams! Williams fires a perfectly timed Back Elbow Smash! Which is ducked, allowing Taylor to bounce off the ropes again, picking up even more speed! Taylor leaps into the air, and drives his elbow into Williams forehead as he turns around!

Stevens: HIGH FOREARM!

Riley: Damn you and your late calls, Stevens!

Williams is laid out on his back like a corpse on a autopsy table. Taylor gets ready to fall on him for the pin, but looks up to see Strangler anxious to run in. Taylor changes his mind, and drags Williams’ corpse to his corner by his wrist. Taylor tags in big Pete, but instead of stepping in through the ropes, he starts climbing the turnbuckles. Pete balances himself on the top rope, and holds his fingers in the “L” shape!

Riley: See, he admits he’s a loser!

Stevens: Yeah, yeah, we’ve heard that one before Riley.

The crowd responds with the loudest pop of the night. Seeing Williams’ predicament, Strangler has already entered the ring. Taylor notices Strangler entering the ring, but he can’t reenter at the moment as Pete is balanced on the top rope. Camera flashes give Pete the appearance of a celestial being, as he dives off the top rope! BOOM! Pete drops his tree trunk of a leg across Williams’ throat, and quickly covers him for the pin.

ONE!

TWO!

NO! Strangler breaks up the pin attempt with the typical stomp! Taylor springboards back into the ring, and starts firing roundhouse kicks into Strangler’s ribs! Strangler doubles over, allowing Taylor to spike his head into the mat with a DDT! Strangler rolls out of the ring, rubbing the top of his head leaving Williams at the mercy of XF9. Pete pulls Williams up by his tights, and locks on a back waistlock. Pete doesn’t even need to bend his knees to lift Williams off the mat. But Williams blocks the German Suplex with his leg! Pete barks some orders at Taylor, and holds Williams in place with the back waistlock. Williams tries to wiggle free, but he can’t escape the grip of Pete’s huge heavy arms. Taylor runs into the ropes, jumps into the air, and smashes Williams in the forehead with the High Forearm! Pete snaps back with the momentum, driving Williams neck and shoulders into the mat with the German Suplex!

Stevens: WHAT A COMBO! Great teamwork from XF9!

Riley: Come on ref do your damn job! That move was illegal! Taylor’s been in the ring for way over five seconds now!

Pete keeps the back waistlock tightly applied, rolls over on his knees, and drags Williams back up to his feet. Williams can hardly hold his eyes open, and barely has the strength to remain on his feet. Pete snaps back again, driving Williams into the mat with another German Suplex! Pete keeps his grip, and pulls Williams up yet again. This time, Williams arms are dangling lifelessly to his sides, his legs are as limp as wet noodles, and his eyes are closed. Pete snaps back again, this time holding for the bridge while Taylor stands guard watching Strangler on the outside like a hawk. The crowd counts along with the ref.

ONE!

TWO!

THREE!

NO! Williams raises his arm up towards the sky, but it drops back to the mat. The ref pauses and restarts his count.

ONE!

TWO!

THREE!

NO! Williams raises his arm up again, and this time has the strength to keep it up! Pete can’t hold the bridge anymore, and releases Williams. Strangler walks around the ring, and climbs back on to the apron of the M7 corner. The ref also forces Taylor to get back into his corner. Pete gives the raise the roof taunt, to signal he’s going for the Musclehead Slam! The fans get on their feet, and start screaming with anticipation. Pete jerks Williams up, pushes him into the ropes, and shoots him off with an Irishwhip. But Williams legs give out, and he collapses in the center of the ring. Pete as well as most of the crowd, burst into laughter.

Riley: What the hell is wrong with these people? This isn’t funny, the man could be seriously injured!

Unable to control his laughter, Pete tags in Taylor. Taylor struts over to Williams, and pulls him up with a front facelock. Taylor wrenches Williams’ head back until they are standing back to back!

Stevens: Taylor looking to put away Williams with the Fame and Fury!

But Strangler rushes into the ring, and jams a hard haymaker into Taylor’s wide open gut. Taylor releases Williams, and collapses to his hands and knees. Taylor clutches his stomach while coughing and gagging like he’s going to puke. Before going back to his corner, Strangler gives Williams a few slaps in the face and yells “Wake up!”. Taylor slowly gets to his feet, and becomes enraged at the sight of Strangler. Taylor helps Williams to his feet, and shoves him into the M7 corner. Williams is confused, and looks to Strangler who is also confused. Taylor screams “Go ahead, tag him in!”

Stevens: It appears Taylor is going to give Strangler what he wants, a chance for revenge.

Riley: What an idiot, but with tonight’s biased officiating I guess he can take some risks.

Williams shrugs his shoulders, and holds out his hand. Strangler pauses before tagging in. Strangler cautiously steps into the ring, while Taylor bounces around warming up. The two men step up toe to toe, and have a stare down. Strangler completely dwarfs Taylor, who has to tilt his head all the way back to look him in the eye. Despite the extreme size difference Taylor has no fear, while Strangler is the one who seems to be unnerved. The crowd starts pounding their feet so fast it resembles machine gun fire.

Strangler can’t take no more, and unleashes his rage with a powerful shove that sends Taylor to the mat! But Taylor pops right back up, and starts hammering Strangler’s ribs with roundhouse kicks! Strangler takes two kicks before, blasting Taylor with a vicious right hook! A dazed Taylor stumbles into a neutral corner, on the heels of his boots. Strangler follows him in, and whips him into the opposite corner! Strangler charges after him with the intension of pancaking him. But to Strangler’s surprise, Taylor runs up the turnbuckles and flips off backwards at him! Strangler puts the brakes on, but it’s too late as Taylor blasts him with a perfect Corkscrew Moonsault!

Stevens: THE LAST SCENE! THE LAST SCENE! Strangler never even saw it coming.

Riley: Probably from a thumb to the eye that the cameras didn’t pick up.

Taylor grabs both of Strangler’s big legs, and locks on a Sharpshooter! The crowd goes crazy, as Taylor twists his body around and locks on a Sleeperhold. The crowd is so loud in fact that he can’t hear Pete’s warning. With his head twisted around, Taylor can’t see Williams step into the ring and walk right in front of him. Williams blasts Taylor with a low Rolling Elbow! CRACK! Taylor goes limp, and releases Pete who is withering in pain. “BOOOOOOOO!” With his head held high, Williams steps back on the apron and waits for Pete.

An almost crippled Pete starts crawling towards Williams. Meanwhile a dazed Taylor stands up, but falls flat on his BUTT. Pete makes it to Williams and tags him in! Williams rushes into the ring to an ever louder chorus of “boos!” Williams pulls Taylor up by his wrist, and fires rabid chops to his neck! After about eight hard chops, Taylor collapses to the mat. But Williams jerks him back up by his wrist again, and unloads some more rabid chops to his neck! This time Taylor collapses after only taking five. Still with a tight grip on his wrist, Williams jerks Taylor up to a seated position. Williams draws back his big white boot, and drives it into Taylor’s back! THUMP! Williams follows with a stiff Knife Edge Chop across Taylor’s chest! SMACK! Williams fires another kick! THUMP! Than another chop! SMACK! Williams digs his pivot foot deeper into the mat, draws back his boot extra far, and with an “EEEEEYA!” fires. THUMP! The boot connects so hard, that the fans in the front roll flinch. Pete looks away from the in ring action with a disgusted look on his face. Strangler on the other hand, is grinning from ear to ear.

Stevens: Oh God! I don’t know if you fans at home can hear this like we can. But those are the hardest kicks I have ever heard in all my years.

Riley: Yeah, Taylor is getting exactly what he deserves for him and his XF9 pals cheating Strangler at Ground Zero. It’s payback time.

With his back now blood red, Taylor crawls to a neutral corner and pulls himself up. Williams turns him around, and blasts his chest with a Knife Edge Chop! SMACK! Williams draws back his hand, and fires another! SMACK! Than another! SMACK! Taylor now has a blood red chest to match his back. With Taylor slumping in the corner, Williams walks back to the M7 corner and tags Strangler in. But Williams stays in the ring, and rams a stiff Running Back Elbow into Taylor’s nose! Taylor slides down the turnbuckles, landing on his BUTT. Williams goes back out on to the apron, and lets Strangler take over. Strangler casually walks over to the half dead Taylor, pulls him up and gives him a few taunting slaps to the face. Strangler chuckles as he sits Taylor on the top turnbuckle, and wraps his hand around his throat.

Stevens: OH NO! Strangler is going to Chokeslam Taylor from the Turnbuckle!

Riley: You have a real talent for stating the obvious, Stevens.

Strangler tries to rip him off the top turnbuckle, but Taylor has a death grip on the top rope. Strangler tightens his grip around Taylor’s throat, until his face turns purple and his eyes look like they are going to pop. Taylor briefly releases one hand from the rope, and punches Strangler in the nose! With his eyes watering so bad he can’t see, Strangler releases Taylor and takes a few steps backwards. Taylor suddenly leaps off the second rope, and catches Strangler in a front facelock! Taylor uses the momentum to spin Strangler around, and plants his head in the mat with the Tornado DDT! Both men are down, and the crowd is on their feet.

Stevens: It’s either teams match now!

Riley: Because of another DAMN CLOSED FIST PUNCH!

Pete starts clapping his hands in rhythm, and encouraging a loud “TAY-LOR!” chant. The constant calling of his name, is enough to keep Taylor awake. Taylor starts crawling to his corner, needless to say Strangler is crawling to his. Pete stretches out his arm as far as he legally can, as Taylor slowly makes his way in range.

Stevens: And now it’s a nose to nose race, to see who can make the tag first! Taylor is literally within inches of making the tag, can he do it?

Strangler makes the tag to Williams, and he comes charging into the ring.

Riley: HERE COMES WILLIAMS!

Taylor reaches his corner, and raises his hand up for the tag! The crowd is electric as the hot tag is now inevitable! CRACK! Williams blasts Pete with a running Elbow, before he can touch Taylor’s hand. Pete flies off the apron, and crashes in the guardrail below. “BOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” Williams gets in front of Taylor, and jerks him up by his hair. Williams starts endlessly firing hard elbows into Taylor’s temple and jaw! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! Taylor’s legs give out, and he crumbles to the mat. Williams falls on him for the pin.

ONE!

TWO!

THREE!

NO! Taylor raises his shoulder up! A furious Pete climbs back on to the apron, determined to get payback for the cheap shot. Pete gets ready to climb in, but the ref steps in his way. Not wanting to risk his partner being double teamed, Pete goes back on the apron. Williams chuckles, and spits in his direction. Strangler points and laughs until Pete’s face turns red with rage. Williams pulls Taylor up by his tights, and locks on a back waistlock! Williams bends his knees, and tosses Taylor high overhead!

Stevens: DANGEROUS GERMAN!

Riley: NO! This one’s mine! DANGEROUS GERMAAAAAAAAN!

Taylor lands right on the side of his face, and flips over on his belly!

Riley: Wow, did you see how he landed! This is the greatest match I have ever witnessed! I hope the rest of those XF9 clowns are watching. This what happens when you mess with M7.

Despite his brains being scrambled, Taylor knows he has to avoid being pinned. Using what control over his body he has left, Taylor rolls out on the apron. Too bad, this just happens to be the apron where Strangler is standing. Strangler bends down, and pulls Taylor up by his throat! Rules be damned, Pete knows he has save his friend. Pete climbs into the ring, and charges! But Williams grabs hold of his boot, and holds him in place! Strangler tightens fist, crushing Taylors’ throat! Pete starts kicking Williams with his fee leg and hammering his back with his fists, but he can’t get free. Strangler places his free hand on Taylors’ back, and lifts him off the apron by his throat!

Riley: HE’S GOING TO GIVE HIM THE PLUNGE FROM THE APRON!

Stevens: DEAR GOD NO! He could be killed!

Strangler lets Taylor dangle for a few seconds, before slamming him down like a Football player spiking the ball after a touchdown! THUMP! Taylor’s body sickly bounces off the floor before coming to a rest.

Riley: Finally, Strangler gets some real payback for Ground Zero!

The crowd vents their frustration with a now constant “BOOOOOOOOOO!” Strangler is so happy he has stop himself from jumping with joy, remembering that Pete is still in the match. Strangler steps over the top rope, and rushes Pete who is still held in place by Danny. Strangler rams his fist into Pete’s gut forcing him to drop his hands! Strangler snaps his head forward, driving his forehead into Pete’s nose!

Riley: BIG HEADBUTT!

Stevens: While Pete is defenseless and being held, mind you.

Pete is out on his feet, and Strangler grabs him by the throat to set him up for the Plunge! Danny releases Pete’s feet, and stands up behind him. “Lift that sombitch up” encourages Danny. “HUUUUUR” grunts Strangler as he strains to lift all of Pete’s huge frame off the mat by his throat. But Pete comes to his senses, and starts driving his elbow into the side of Strangler’s face! Danny has enough of this and blasts the back of Pete’s neck with the Rolling Elbow! Pete’s knees buckle, and Danny tucks his head underneath his armpit while Strangler still has him set up for the Chokeslam!

Stevens: What the hell are they going to do here?

Riley: This is going to be sweet!

Danny hoists Pete up for the Backdrop Driver while Strangler keeps his hand wrapped around his throat for the Chokeslam! Danny falls back, while Strangler falls forward! BOOM! Pete lands on the back of his skull, while Strangler crushes his throat into the mat!

Stevens: THEY GAVE HIM A BACKDROP DRIVER AND A CHOKESLAM AT THE SAME TIME!

Riley: HA! DO IT TO HIM AGAIN! ENCORE! ENCORE!

With Pete now a motionless corpse laying in the ring, Danny and Strangler turn their attention back to Taylor. Strangler rolls out of the ring, locks his hands around Taylor’s chest, and drags him to his feet. Strangler rolls Taylor into the ring, and slides back in. Williams grabs both of Taylor’s legs, and drags him to the center of the ring. Strangler kicks Pete’s body back on to the apron of the XF9 corner, before going back to his corner so the ref can concentrate on Danny and Taylor.

Danny traps Taylor’s head between his knees, and pulls him up by his tights. Danny locks his fingers around Taylor’s belly, and bends his knees for the lift attempt.

Riley: Williams setting Taylor up for the DEATHBOMB!

Danny spits and strains but for some reason he can’t seem to get Taylor off the ground. Danny looks down to see a barley conscious Pete holding on to Taylor’s boots.

Stevens: NO! Despite taking that hellaish move, Pete is doing whatever he can to save his partner from further punishment.

Riley: Don’t be fooled, I’am pretty sure Pete has a more selfish agenda in mind.

“Get him off!” demands Danny as he looks to his partner for help. Strangler steps over top rope, and gives Pete a nasty kick to the face! Pete releases Taylor’s boots, and rolls over on his belly. A deranged Strangler starts stomping away on poor Pete with out mercy.

Riley: Strangler heroically fending off Pete’s attack, while Williams finishes off Taylor.

Stevens: Heroically? Riley, your idea of a hero is the guy who just swerves at the little old lady in the crosswalk instead of hitting her!

The crowd is incomplete shock at the sight of their heroes just being man handled with such ease. “IEEEEEEEEE” cries Danny as he lifts Taylor on to his shoulders! Danny snaps his torso down, slamming Taylor’s into the mat with a ring shaking DEATHBOMB! Taylor’s body bounces a few times from impact, and the back of his head smacks against the mat. Danny quickly hooks both of Taylor’s legs back for the pin. “BOOOOOOOOO!”

Riley: DEATHBOOOOOOOMB! IT’S ALL OVER!

ONE!

TWO!

THREE!

DING! DING! DING!

The ref raises Danny’s hand to make it official.

Funyon: The winners of the match by pinfall at 20 minutes and 32 seconds, DANNY WILLIAMS AND THE BOSTON STRANGLEEEEER!

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” Overcome with joy at his first tag win in a long time, Strangler raises his arms triumphantly in the air; though he seems to be a bit pissed that he didn’t get a chance to pin Taylor, he is still grateful that at least somebody did. He is so overcome with emotion that he gives Williams a hug, before he starts stomping away at the knocked out Erek Taylor.

Stevens: Well it took Strangler long enough, but he finally picked up a tag win.

Riley: And what a win it was! The M7 team wrestled a near perfect match! They isolated Taylor, and unlike so many teams before them, they actually prevented him from making the tag to his fresh partner.

Stevens: You wonder why no one else can do that? Anyways, we’re gonna take a break, but stick around, because we’ll be right back!

August 10, 2002

“We have a action pack night for you… Welcome to Storm everybody, along side me is Bobby Digital, and I am Grand Slam, no, Walk off Grand Slam Mark Stevens and tonight we have an action pack line up for you…”

“You just said that.”

“So what?”

“Forget it… By the way, do I look like an electronic device? Do I look like a machine that you can turn on and off any time you are willing?”

Mark looks at Bobby in a weird way as Riley finally realize what he just said and then he tries to explain himself by saying: “You know what I mean, I am not a machine, I am not automatic, I cannot go on all night.”

Another look from the face of Mark as Riley is getting frustrated as he said: “You know what, I aint going to say anything anymore.”

“Now that is a first…” Mark chuckles a bit as he hears something on his earphones, he presses them tightly to his ears. He then said: “Something is going on in the back, there’s camera there already, lets see what’s going on.”

For the millions of people watching at home, this is all you can see, for the people in the audience, they have to look at the SWFtron to see what’s going on. They take you to the parking lot where LDP is waiting which causes a loud eruption from the crowd. There’s a limo arriving, a black hummer limo at that.

“Who’s in there?” Riley screams in suspense.

“If you relax and start breathing like you’re pregnant and is about to give birth, you will find out.”

“The hell about who is in there, the question is who is LDP waiting for?” Riley said trying to be intelligent, sarcastically intelligent.

Mark looked at him funny as he replies: “That’s the same thing man, regardless of how you asked it, it lies down to who’s in that Stretch Limo Hummer.”

Back in the parking lot, you see LDP smiling as the Stretch Hummer comes to a stop; the driver comes out and quickly goes towards the end of the vehicle. LDP stands right next to the driver as the driver opens the door. A leg comes out, the first thing you notice is this person foot as he’s wearing shoes, crocodile shoes at that. This person is wearing what appears to be a very nice expensive suit pants.

“Why is it that when someone comes they have to come out of the car so dramatically?”

“Because it wouldn’t be SWF if it wasn’t dramatic.” Mark said as he gives one of his Grand Slam commercial smiles towards the camera.

Another leg comes out and right now LDP is getting impatient as he rolls his eyes and begins to tap his feet on the ground.

“Just like a women, ha…” Riley said in a humorous tone.

“How do you know how a women acts?”

“Because, ah shut up.”

Now the feet are moving a little trying to feel the right spot of the pavement. LDP looks at his watch as the driver begins to lean against the car door.

LDP got tired of waiting as he said: “Dude, you know I’m not going to wait for you forever, I have things to do you know.

A voice came from the man who is securing his feet on the floor as the voice said: “Alright, alright… I just wanted to be dramatic when the camera catches me.”

“See, told you… This guy is a veteran, he knows what he’s talking about… But the voice, that voice sounds so familiar though, I know it from somewhere.” Mark said trying to figure out where he knows that voice.

“I know what you mean, that voice just made my heart jump, I know I heard it, and I know I was close to that voice numerous times in my active wrestling career in this league.”

“Me too.”

Two glove covered hands come out to grab the top part of the opening that’s shape like a car door. He grasped it well and pulls himself out of the car to reveal none other than…

“Oh shit…”

“Oh shit, err, oh, oh boy…”

LDP smiles as he stood face to face to Perfect Bo…

The crowd goes wild to see the shooter come back and next to LDP at that.

“My eyes are deceiving me because I could never picture the day, the night, the century -that I would see LDP, the leader of X force 9, stand face to face in a friendly matter at that, to the person who back in the day caused him a match against Mistress Sarah in the JL, Perfect Bo…” Mark said, as his eyes are still open in shock.

“This is not happening… This is just a dream, a terrible dream where NTD was BUTT naked dancing the butterfly.”

LDP extends his hands and Bo gracefully and happily accepts it as they shook hands with a big smile on both their faces. Bo moves towards the left so that the driver can close the door as LDP asked: “How you doing man?”

“Chillin.”

“So, how was your retirement?”

“If you even can call it that… I had a lot of problems with the place that I moved at, bamas try to kill me for me being dark skin.”

“Oh, racism?”

“Yeah, but I’m back home in the Bronx, and I doubt that I will ever leave from there.”

“Well, you sure you’re up for it?”

“Son, I’ve been paying attention to the SWF and I’ve never seen so many people trying their ass of… These young kids busting their ass night in and night out just to get notice, and even if they lose they’re happy that they are a part of the SWF. That’s what I wanted to see for a long time. But ever since I retired Thugg, which by the way was a bad thing, people just stop trying and I got frustrated, but now, I’m hype, I’m ready to do some work.”

“Well, the question is, you sure you want to be a XF9???”

The crowd goes wild from the mention of XF9.

“No, I can’t believe this… Bo as a X Force 9, that can’t happen, I don’t even want that to happen.” Riley said in disgust.

“I know Bo for a while, probably better than anybody in this fed, and him as a Force 9 will probably do one of two things… He’ll probably make it better or burn it to the ground, because even though Force 9 are trying to be more aggressive, they are far to easy going for Bo’s taste… But hey, maybe people can change.”

“No, he can’t change, he can’t be a ‘hey you’re my friend till the end, but if you get me mad then we can talk’ type of guy. He’s a thug, he’s a gangsta, he’s evil and that’s how he got far.”

“That’s true, but lets see what’s his reaction.”

Back in the parking lot LDP asked him the question that many people got caught by surprise, now they are waiting for Bo’s respond. Bo looks at him and smiles, he then said: “Who was the only one that called me for this? You… You’re the only one that actually told me to come back and I was made an offer I couldn’t refuse. Even though we had drama back in the day, you didn’t let that affect our professionalism and our work ethics, and for that I thank you… You already know my answer, but I want the whole world to know the truth and I will go to the ring…” Bo stops for a minute to think something over, he then looks at LDP and asked: “Do you have a match?”

“Yes, a tag team match.”

“So, you will be the last Force 9 fighting?”

“No, Annie, who is a Force 9 as well, will be having a match against Lerrin…”

“Who?”

“New Big guy who’s with Creative Control, that’s a new group consisting of Stubby…”

“Yeah, I know who they are… So when are they fighting?”

“The match before the Main Event.”

“Ok, after that match, that’s when I will go to the ring and say what I have to say. Speak the truth, speak what it’s on my mind”

“Well, look at the camera in front of you, the whole world basically know the truth, so it doesn’t make any difference…”

“That’s true, but there’s a few thing that I must say… When I left I know people were mad at me for leaving the way I did. For speaking what I felt and frankly not caring what people might think about me. I don’t hold my tongue for anybody, now I want to explain why I am back so basically I’m going to let the truth be told again. Now, I want you to come with me so they can see why I’m back… Is that cool with you?”

“Sure… After my match of Annie’s match?”

“Annie’s match, I want you in good health because what I’m about to say will be a barn burner.”

“Whatever…”

“Where does the rest of the Force 9 goes to when they just finish having a match?”

“Locker room, resting and stuff.”

“After I say what I have to say, we’re all going to unite so they can welcome me in the group, cool?” Bo said with a sly smile on his face.

“Stop be arrogant, and welcome…”

“Thank you…”

“No problem…”

“But really, thank you…” Bo finally said as he smiles a big ass hardy smile…

LDP and Bo walk away from the camera as the camera shifts back towards the announce table to see a shock Riley and an even more shock Mark Stevens.

“No, no, no, no, no… Bo can’t do this, he cannot do this to this fed he’s going to make this fed go down the hill. He doesn’t fit well with XF9, he’s too good of being bad for that, he’s too gangster, no, this cannot be.”

“I can’t picture it either, but at least the XF9 have a muscle man that can intimidate and he’s a great wrestler anyways, so this might be good for the XF9s.”

“No, it’s terrible, I cant bare to watch it. I just can’t.”

“Well, stay tune for this announcement later tonight…”

“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO.”

“Oh shut up…”

August 10, 2002

We return from a commercial for The Best Of Tom Flesher's Commercials DVD (featuring "You want Geico, not MacPhisto... wait, who's writing this crap?" along with "Blargledyargle! Use Linux!" and HVille Thugg promoting Trojan condoms ["Get you ass away from my dick! I will wreck yo shit!"]). The camera shows the outside of the Nassau Coliseum, on Long Island, New York. The marquee reads "TONIGHT: SWF Storm! TOMORROW: Housecat Spay-A-Thon! SOLD OUT!" "We are LIVE in Long Island," declares Mark Stevens, as the camera slowly fades into a shot of the fans on their feet cheering. They burst into their "GRAND SLAM! GRAND SLAM!" chant while the SmarkTron shows various fans holding signs such as "Watch Him Implode," "Superior? Complex? Nah, He Just Sucks" and "Jay Dawg Hazed This Sign," complete with a huge hole in the posterboard and a bottle of Vaseline taped on.

"What an exciting night of action we've seen thus far," continues Stevens. "Jay Dawg nearly murdered Z!"

"And the Magnificent Seven looked absolutely stellar in their match againsty X Force 9," says Bobby Riley. "STELLAR!"

"X Force 9 didn't look too bad themselves, Bobby. And besides, you were too busy watching that pair of Goths in the front row."

"So what?"

"They were both guys, Bobby."

Riley blanches. "Er... I couldn't tell. You know how androgynous all those Goth types are."

"They both had beards."

Thinking quickly, Riley says, "Coming up next we're going to see SWF US Champion Taylor Nicholas Thompson defend in a rematch with the former champ, 'The Superior One' Tom Flesher. TNT disgraced the belt last week by stealing it with absolutely no claim whatsoever to-"

"He beat Flesher fair and square!"

"All he did was climb a ladder, grab the belt and go back to the locker room."

"IT WAS A LADDER MATCH!"

"Sounds like a minor crime spree to me."

"Regardless of what Bobby Riley thinks, Taylor Thompson is the SWF United States Champion, and he'll be defending against Tom Flesher tonight in the return match! Let's go to Funyon!"

In the ring, Funyon clears his throat, then announces, "Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is scheduled for one fall, and it is for the SWF United States Championship!" The crowd pops immediately, then quiets down as the buzzing intro to "I Am The Man" by the Philosopher Kings begins to infiltrate the arena's sound system. Two columns of blue pyro spray out next to the entrance, and after a few moments, BAM! An explosion of blue pyro lights up the arena as the vocals start. When the smoke clears, Flesher stands in the entranceway, head turned to the left, holding his chin thoughtfully. After holding the pose for a few seconds while the crowd heaps heat on him, he starts strutting toward the ring.

Funyon pulls out the INDEX CARD OF DOOM~! and almost immediately the fans burst into "YOU SUCK COCK! YOU SUCK COCK!" chant. He reads, "Ladies and gentlemen, the challenger in this match is not only from the great state of New York, he is from Buffalo, where all the best Long Island girls go to school. He's willing to forgive you for the accent, because he loves you as much as you love him."

Flesher shouts, "MAYBE MORE!"

Funyon continues, "This forgiving, benevolent soul hails from Buffalo, New York and competes at 213 pounds... he is the SWF Light-Heavyweight Champion... he is the Superior One, Tom Flesher!"

Flesher steps into the ring, waving to the crowd. He steps up onto the second turnbuckle, whips his belt off and holds it in the air. All of a sudden...

"OI! OI! OI!"

"Mark, what the hell are they doing? Flesher was doing his entrance!"

"TNT's the champ. Flesher's the challenger. Get used to it."

The crowd gives a heated, if divided, reaction as AC/DC's "Thunderstruck" begins to blare over the speakers and the arena is bathed in red and orange strobes. The SmarkTron reads "T-N-T" as Taylor Nicholas Thompson steps through the curtain to a reaction that's half huge pop and have savage heat. Just as a loud "Watch me exploooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooode!" echoes through the arena, the United States Champion begins to walk to the ring. He walks to the ring, then jumps up on the apron. Instead of his standard flipping off, he simply points to his title belt. Most of the crowd pops, and after he nods looking satisfied, TNT enters the ring.

"And his opponent, from Anaheim, California and weighing in at 267 pounds, this is your SWF US Champion, Taylor Nicholas Thompson... T-N-T!!!!!!!!!"

TNT walks around the ring, hitting each turnbuckle and letting out a big "KABOOM!" As his music fades, he unstraps his title and hands it over to referee Jim Stine. Stine holds the belt aloft and then gives it to the timekeeper as Flesher sets the Light Heavyweight belt in his corner.

DING DING DING!!!!!!!!!!!!

Flesher steps to the center of the ring, where TNT waits, looking confident. As Flesher begins circling around TNT, the United States Champion maintains his stance, turning only to face Flesher and keep his defensive position. Moving quickly, Flesher throws a palm strike... TNT blocks! Flesher throws another... TNT blocks! As soon as TNT blocks the second shotei, Flesher throws a stiff right-footed kick to TNT's left knee. TNT lets his guard down out of surprise, selling the knee, and with that, Flesher slaps him crisply across the face! "And The Superior One is back to his old tricks," says Stevens as Flesher grins stupidly at TNT. TNT responds in simple fashion by stepping forward and knocking Flesher on his ass with a vicious lariat! "And TNT's back to his!" The crowd pops for the Magnificent Seven's monster as he invites Flesher to get back to his feet.

TNT waits patiently for his opponent to fall into his stance. As soon as Flesher gets into position to wrestle, TNT once again hammers him in the chest with a lariat! Flesher falls backwards, stunned, and the relentless champion drops down onto him with a standing elbowdrop! He immediately covers Flesher for

ONE!

but no more, as Tom kicks out and rolls away. "Bobby," says Stevens, "you've gotta like TNT's chances in this match. He put Flesher away last week in that ladder match-"

"Crime spree."

"Whatever. Also, TNT's just much, much larger than Tom. On the previous occasions they've met, it's taken all of Flesher's strength just to get him in position for a possible win... and tonight, Tom's wrestling one-armed."

"But he's superior!"

"Maybe so, Bobby, but don't you think TNT has a slight edge here?"

"Nah."

Pause.

"Would you care to elaborate on that?"

Riley thinks it over, then says, "Nah."

Flesher gets to his feet, and TNT is waiting for him in the center. TNT shuffles forward, arm extended, and Flesher immediately ducks. Riley starts to say, "Went to the well one too-" but is very, very rudely interrupted when TNT knees Flesher in the face, and then steps forward to nail him with...

Yup.

"LARIATOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO~!" says Stevens, unable to contain his pleasure at seeing Flesher outsmarted by a member of the Magnificent Seven.

"Um, Mark? Do you have a cold or something?"

"I don't believe so... why?"

"Just the way you pronounced that."

"Oh, that. Well, Danny and Ced loaned me some of their films. Apparently, the Japanese language requires an additional vowel sound at the end of the word."

"No, not that."

"Oh, the tilde."

"Yeah, that. How exactly do you pronounce a tilde?"

TNT drops another elbow onto Flesher. Stevens says, "Like this.... ELBOWDROPPAH~!"

Riley rolls his eyes. "Yeah, THAT clears it up."

TNT contemplates covering Flesher again, but ultimately decides that it's still too early for that. Instead, he grabs the challenger by his left arm and yanks him forcefully to his feet. Flesher winces, but tries to hold the pain back even as Thompson whips him to the ropes. Flesher rebounds and ducks a TNT clothesline, then stops in his tracks behind him. TNT turns around to see where Flesher went, but as he does, Tom spins around 180 degrees and slams his palm into the Explosive One's face! TNT staggers backwards, and Flesher takes advantage of his moment of vertigo by nailing a series of quick, jabbing shoteis to various parts of the face before finally rearing back and throwing one final stiff palm strike into TNT's forehead! With that, TNT totters and eventually falls to the mat, where Flesher casually drapes his body over him and looks at the referee. Stine counts

ONE!

but TNT kicks out forcefully, sending Flesher flying into the air! Flesher lands comfortably, but is understandably shaken up by TNT's sheer strength. As he gets back to his feet, TNT does the same, and the two square off once again, each having been brought from their cocky mindsets back into reality.

Flesher drops down into his amateur stance and quickly shoots for TNT's left leg. TNT swings it backwards to avoid Flesher's grip, and Tom responds by reaching around and simnply tripping the right leg out! TNT falls back-first to the mat, having had his base stolen from under him. Flesher takes the opportunity to grab both legs, then starts to step over for a Boston crab. Thompson resists, simply not letting Flesher turn him. Flesher cranks it further, but, as Stevens notes, "Taylor Thompson is just too strong! At this point in the match, you're not going to put a submission hold on him!"

"But Flesher's-"

"Yes, Bobby, we know," sighs Stevens. "He's superior."

"Well, I was actually going to say he's about to kick TNT in the groin."

And there we go. Flesher subtly swings his boot back, then hits his opponent in the crotch while the referee watches TNT's face.

"Point noted, Mr. Riley."

"Told ya so."

With TNT in... obvious pain, Flesher quickly steps over and locks on the back-stretching crab hold. TNT grimaces as Flesher sits back, smiling happily. Stevens says, "He looks like he's just sitting back with a pint of Guinness!"

"Please, Mark, he's just enjoying the fact that he's causing such intense pain for Mr. Thompson."

TNT starts to push himself up, but quickly realizes that isn't the way to go, as it simply folds him up more. Caught in the center, he starts to pull himself slowly toward the ropes. As he inches toward the edge of the ring, Flesher does his best to hold on but just can't. Instead, just as Thompson is about to reach the ropes, Flesher quickly releases the right leg, then spins around while still holding on to the left. He falls forward, trapping the left leg in a stepover toehold, and locks up a crossface just as TNT reaches the ropes! Stine sees the champion grab the bottom strand and immediately administers a count of ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR! As soon as he hears 'four,' Flesher releases the STF and backs away.

"Smart move by Flesher," says Riley smugly. "Torquing the knee is definitely the way to go with a bigger man like Taylor Thompson."

"Of course, he did the same thing to El Luchadore Magnifico."

"That was to ground the high-flyer."

"And to Z."

"That was to make sure Z could never walk again, because that schmuck's always bothering him, bringing him raw eggs at his hotel room and stuff."

Stevens sighs as Flesher waits in the center of the ring for his opponent. TNT pulls himself up using the ropes, and as he walks toward Flesher, the Superior One throws a stiff dropkick to his left knee. TNT doesn't go down, though. Flesher bounces back up and throws another dropkick to the left knee. TNT stays up, though he's in obvious pain. Flesher sighs and gets back up, quickly throwing a hard dropkick to his opponent's RIGHT knee! With that, TNT goes down, and Flesher quickly steps forward, planting the sole of his Doc Marten on TNT's face and walking across! He stops in the corner and points to a section of the crowd, then starts a golf clap for himself.

Oddly, the crowd opts not to join in.

Flesher shouts, "COME ON! I know you love me!" and continues clapping. The fans start to cheer, only a few at first, but more and more as they see TNT getting to his feet and sneaking up behind the Superior One. Proud of his pilfered pop, Flesher yells, "THAT'S how you do it!" With that, TNT gets behind Flesher, locks his hands around his waist, and hoists him into the air. A quick back arch later and Flesher's on his back in the center of the ring, having been thrown in a German suplex! TNT releases the waistlock and lets Flesher roll through onto his stomach, then takes a moment to play to the crowd, which pops for him in spite of themselves.

With Flesher on his stomach, TNT has an opening, and takes advantage of it. He lifts Flesher's left arm up, then drops an elbow right into the shoulder! Wrenching the arm out of joint, he locks on a quick and dirty armbar, holding on to it in hopes of securing a submission. Flesher sells it hard, wincing, grimacing and screaming. He fights to get to the ropes, but TNT continues cranking the hold. Flesher inches toward the side of the ring, hyperextending his legs to try to scissor the ropes. Finally, he hooks his boot over the bottom rope, and Jim Stine counts ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR! TNT reluctantly releases the hold, then backs away.

Flesher tries to push himself up, but his left arm fails him, and he stays flat on his face. He tries again, this time inhibited by TNT dropping another elbow onto the arm. TNT tries to lock on another armbar, but Flesher maintains his foothold on the ropes and Jim Stine won't allow it. As Flesher curls his body around the injured arm, Stine waves TNT back and drops to his knees to check on the challenger.

"Flesher's really suffering with that arm," points out Stevens. "Jim Stine looks like he's thinking about stopping it."

"NO! Flesher's fine! He can't stop the match!" Riley is, as always, horrified at the thought of Tom Flesher not going over.

TNT walks over, standing above the crumbled heap of Flesher as Stine converses with him. Flesher pitifully gets up to his knees, still leaning over and holding his left arm. Stine backs away, and as soon as he does, Flesher lets loose with a stiff uppercut to TNT's groin! TNT doubles over, and Flesher follows up without even coming to his feet by nailing him in the temple with a palm strike! TNT falls to the mat, stunned but not nearly out. Flesher crawls on top of him for

ONE

TWO

but no more as TNT kicks out and Flesher moves away to avoid getting hit. The two workers get back to their feet, with TNT still slightly groggy from the shot to the head and Flesher favoring the arm as always. The two workers stare each other down, neither wanting to make the first move. Neither wants to make a mistake.

Neither wants to lose.

"TNT just got his first taste of SWF gold," Stevens says. "He doesn't want Flesher to end his title reign at a shameful three days."

"Flesher should never even have lost that match!"

"He lost it fair and square, Bobby."

"NOT IN MY BOOK HE DIDN'T!"

Flesher finally takes the initiative to start a new flurry by reaching up and slapping TNT across the face again. With that, TNT's collected, focused demeanor collapses. He immediately lets loose with a kneelift, which Flesher dodges. With TNT's knee still in the air, Flesher unleashes a stiff pair of kicks to TNT's base leg, then trips him backwards. TNT hits the mat, and Flesher quickly grabs his left leg. He drops an elbow into the side of the knee, taking it off to the side and wrenching it out of place. He stands up, then does the same thing again, twisting TNT's knee in the wrong direction. Thompson tries to hide the pain, but when Flesher drops a third elbow into the left knee, he lets out a scream. Smiling in a satisfied manner, Flesher lifts his opponent's legs up and crosses them.

"Could it be....?"

"Yes, Mark, it could!"

Flesher steps over, trying to lock up the Superior Stretch. TNT resists, knowing it's incredibly hard to break the hold. Finally, Flesher wrenches the injured knee just hard enough for TNT to stop resisting for a moment, and steps over to lock on the cloverleaf hold!

"SUPERIOR STRETCH!" shouts Stevens. "The Superior Stretch is Flesher's premiere submission hold!"

Riley starts singing, "Turn out the lights, the party's over....."

"Flesher's got it locked on right in the center of the ring!"

TNT tries hard to pull himself to the ropes, but just can't. He's bent too badly to pull himself very far, and he can't reach any of the ropes. He grimaces, wincing in pain, and looks to be close to tapping. Stine drops down and looks at TNT's face, watching for him to pass out or tap out.

"ASK HIM!" shouts Flesher.

"NO!!!" responds TNT.

Flesher leans back, twisting and barring TNT's legs.

"ASK HIM!"

"HELL NO!"

TNT braces out, planting his hands on the mat.

"ASK HIM!"

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!"

With one final burst of strength, TNT kicks his powerful legs forward, sending Flesher flipping onto his back! "WHAT A POWER MOVE!" shouts Stevens. "What amazing power from the Magnificent Seven's standout rookie!"

"What happened? My monitor went out."

TNT flips Flesher onto his back, then actually kicks over into a neck bridge with his legs on Flesher's chest and his arms pinning the legs down! The crowd applauds loudly for the rarely-seen technical expertise of the Explosive One, as Stine counts

ONE

TWO

KICKOUT!

"Damn gonzo-ass cover," mutters Riley. "Not gonna be superior like that."

"I beg to differ, Bobby. Thompson could very easily have won there."

"No way. He's incapable of beating Tom Flesher."

"Bobby, he..."

"CRIME SPREE!!!!!!"

Flesher and TNT nearly get to their feet but lock into a grapple first. Flesher attempts to lock up a bearhug to set up a German suplex, but before he does, he backs away and kicks TNT in the knee. As soon as Flesher goes to lock up again, the angry TNT grabs both his wrists and starts an Irish whip motion. Flesher reverses the motion, though, and sends TNT careening toward the ropes. TNT rebounds with a running forearm attack, but Flesher ducks. TNT hits the opposite side and bounces back, but he runs straight into a Yakuza kick! In his already fatigued state, TNT collapses to the mat on impact. After he lands on the mat, Flesher runs at him and jumps into the air, coming down hard on his chest with a Doc Marten double stomp! Cockily, Flesher kneels down on TNT, whose wind has been knocked completely out of him.

"That's GOTTA be it!" says Riley.

And, of course, we all know what that means.

ONE

TWO

KICKOUT.

(Because, let's face it, you knew it was coming.)

TNT rolls painfully to his stomach, holding his chest. Flesher immediately takes the cue, descending on him and locking on a crossface. Before he can secure an STF, though, TNT reaches out and grabs the ropes to prevent any further harm.

"And it looks like TNT's in serious trouble here," says Stevens.

"Damn straight!" agrees Riley.

"Althought he could always come back."

"Nah."

Flesher struts to the center of the ring, and as TNT pulls himself to his feet, Flesher makes a "Bah, go away" wave at him. TNT stumbles to the center of the ring, where Flesher is waiting with a palm strike to the forehead. "Kind of a light strike there," mutters Stevens. "Not very focused. He may be getting cocky."

"He has every right to get cocky!"

TNT steps backwards, and when Flesher goads him to lock up again, he responds with a stiff lariat that takes Flesher to the mat! Flesher grabs his head, and the recovering Thompson grabs him by the arm and yanks him back to his feet.

"Does Flesher have the right to be cocky there?"

"Bite me, batboy."

TNT scoops Flesher up, then drops him carelessly to the mat in a high-angle scoop slam right onto his left arm! Flesher lets out a scream of pain, and as he lays on the mat writhing, TNT points to the ceiling! With that, the fans cheer, and TNT immediately climbs to the top rope!

"Could it be Shell Shock? COULD IT BE?!"

"God, let's hope not."

TNT leaps off the top rope, then lands hard on Flesher, driving the steely point of his elbow into Flesher's shoulder! Flesher screams out loud as TNT covers him for

ONE

TWO

THR- NO!!!!!! Flesher manages to kick out! TNT looks over at Jim Stine and yells, "Slow count!" Stine simply shrugs.

Angry, TNT pulls Flesher back to his feet. Flesher throws a quick pair of kicks to the knee, which give TNT pause but don't take him to the mat. TNT quickly lifts a knee into Flesher's abdomen, doubling him over. With that, the Magnificent Seven representative locks both arms up in a double underhook, prompting a cheer from the crowd.

"DYNAMITE! It's coming up! We're going to see Dynamite!"

Riley has nothing to say, opting simply to bite his fingernails nervously.

TNT pulls on the double-underhooked arms... but can't get Flesher up! The Superior One resists the first lift, then the second, and finally stands all the way up! He backdrops TNT overhead, and as the US Champion hits the mat, Flesher spins around and drops in with a diving headbutt! He covers TNT for

ONE

TWO

NO!!! Taylor Thompson kicks out! Flesher shrugs, as if to say "I knew that was going to happen," then lifts the champ to his feet. "With TNT stunned from the backdrop and headbutt," notes Stevens, "Flesher knows he has to move in quickly. It's now or never."

"Bah."

"Can't you say anything coherent?"

"Snoochie boochies."

Quickly, Flesher unleases two quick palm strikes, nailing TNT in the head. With that, he grabs his opponent by the wrist, spins around and sends him crashing into a corner face-first! Flesher immediately follows that up by charging into the corner and hitting TNT hard in the back of the head with a running palm blow! The SMACK of Flesher's palm striking TNT's head echoes through the arena as Thompson slumps forward in the corner.

"Bobby, Flesher's starting to take control here."

"Told ya."

"But what can he do with only one arm?"

"Enough to win the belt back. FLesher could wrestle with one hand tied behind his back and the other stuck in a bear trap."

"I don't know about THAT."

"I do. I've seen him do it. He carried the bear trap to a **** match."

With TNT slumped forward in the corner, Flesher takes the opening to lock his hands around TNT's waist and prob his head under the left shoulder. With most of the strain on his right shoulder, Flesher steps backwards, almost staggered under the weight of his 267-pound opponent, and with a loud grunt, he throws the United States Champion backwards and slams him onto his head with a backdrop driver!

"That's GOTTA hurt!"

"Of course it does, Mark! It's Flesher, Captain of the Head Trauma Express!"

Flesher holds the bridge for

ONE

TWO

THRE- NO! TNT rolls through, barely managing to free himself. Flesher gets back to his feet fairly easily and waits for his groggy opponent. TNT pulls himself up using the ropes, and immediately, Flesher charges at him and nails him in the temple with a Yakuza kick! He drops down and covers for

ONE

TWO

THRE--- NO!!!!!!

"My god, look at the resilience of the US Champion!"

"Flesher IS remarkably-"

"Shut UP, Bobby! TNT won't stay down!"

Truer words were never spoken, Mr. Stevens, since even as you speak TNT is starting to get to his feet. Flesher stays close, and as soon as TNT gets up, Flesher hits him with a hard shotei to stun him, then spins him around and locks up a standing double chicken wing! He spins out, wincing at the pressure put on his tender left arm, until he stands back-to-back with the bent-over TNT. With that, he kicks his legs out, slamming TNT's face into the mat with an Unprettier! TNT hits hard, with the wind knocked completely out of him and his head completely battered. Flesher sees the limp TNT laying on the mat... but doesn't go for the cover.

"Why isn't he-"

"He's superior, Mark. He can do whatever he wants."

"But he-"

"Feh."

Flesher looks down at his arm and winces, but wears a look of determination. He crouches down and locks his hands around Thompson's waist, then lifts him into a gutwrench. With TNT hanging limply, Flesher grimaces and lifts his opponent high, then holds him upside-down for an instand before sitting to the mat and driving TNT's neck into the ground!

"EGO BUSTER!!!!!!!" says Riley, extremely excited.

"That's what Flesher used to beat TNT in their last singles match," points out Stevens.

"WOOHOO!!!!!!"

Flesher rolls TNT over to his back, then covers him, still holding his arm painfully. Jim Stine counts

ONE

TWO

THREE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

DING DING DING!!!!!!!!!!!!

The fans burst into a chorus of boos as Flesher sits up to his knees and "I Am The Man" begins to play over the sound system. Funyon announces, "Your winner and now three-time United States Champion, the Light Heavyweight Champion, TOM FLESHER!"

"What a match from both of these competitors!" says Stevens. "Excellent work from both men, but tonight, Flesher was just..."

"SUPERIOR! The superior three-time champion! The superior double champ, again! KIYAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

Stine hands Flesher the US Title, and Flesher quickly rolls out of the ring, making sure to grab the Light Heavyweight Title on his way. Holding his sore left arm, he staggers to the back.

"Flesher comes out the winner, but he's hurt. We may not see him on the next show," says Stevens.

"What do you mean?" Riley is crestfallen. "What'll I do?"

"You could just call the matches."

"But..."

"Oh, fine. I'll bring my Best of Flesher video for you to watch before the show, but clean it off this time."

And with that, we fade.

August 10, 2002

The Smarkstron flickers on, and relays a view of the backstage area. It's hectic, it's noisy, it's general SWF. Technicians are running from here to there, trying to fix a problem while wrestlers warm up in the background, ready to enter through the curtains as their music hits. All this, happening as the almighty SWF Commissioner Stubby "Pots" McWeed watches on, with the mammoth Lerrin Breggan standing by his side.

"Hardy! Over here!" Stubby calls out to the short and chubby interviewer, who quickly obides and scurries over.

"Y-y-e-e-s-s???"

"I wanted to ask you a few questions. How come you haven't interviewed Lerrin Breggan yet?"

Lerrin snarls at Hardy, who panics as he tries to come up with a reason. Stubby waits patiently, and Hardy responds, at last: "Well, I tried to but, but, uh, my supervisor told me to go elsewhere."

"Ben, who is the boss around here?"

"You mean the entire company?"

".....OF COURSE!"

"Y-y-y-o-o-o-u-u-u..."

"That's right. Now, your supervisor is a dick. I own this place and when I say jump, you say 'how high'. When I say run, you say 'how fast'. When I say interview Lerrin Breggan, you say 'Right away'. Got it?"

"Y-y-y-e-e-s-s-s-s...."

"Good. Now run along because you've angered me already. Be gone, peasant!"

Ben Hardy scurries away in a hurry as Stubby and Lerrin walks down the hallways, away from all the action. They go down the hallway, when Stubby steps over a plastic bag. The bag pops instantly from the air trapped inside. Lerrin reaches down and picks up the bag, and finds a bag of marijuana.

"What the fuck?" states a surprised Stubby. "Is that... my.... weed?"

Upon closer inspection, there is a tag pasted on the bag, clearly marked "McWeed". Lerrin nods his head, and a furious Stubby begins to scan the area.

"Why would my weed be out here?"

Lerrin doesn't say anything, but his eyes grow wide as he realizes something is wrong with their findings.

"What? What is it, Lerrin?"

"Well, uh, I think half of it is missing."

Stubby snatches the bag away, and inspects it, only to find the truth dawn upon him. He drops the bag, filled with rage and anger as he storms away, calling back to Lerrin as he goes:

"We're gonna find the son of a bitch who did this."

August 10, 2002

It had been a long time since he last stood here. Surrounded by the screaming hoards, all looking in towards the bloodshed and destruction that entertained them so well. Something he had been a part of, or perhaps a closer truth would be something that had been a part of him, for so long.

It still was, really. He had just moved on and changed arenas, venues, to craft his art and feed his soul. But now, now he was back. Or at least in the same building as his former companions. It was a strange feeling, he realised, to be on the outside looking in. He could feel the energy in the air, the electricity and power that thesis fans of the squared circle generated. It was a visible thing, alive and waiting to bent to the will of the performers on the stage.

Stage… That was a myth. It was a battlefield here; he knew that fact better then any one. People bled, people broke and people died in that place… God, he missed it. That feeling of being alive, on the very edge of existence and knowing that no one left could beat you. Being the pinnacle of what there was to achieve… The grandest of warriors on the biggest of stages. Oh what it was to hold that and how it hurt to have it taken all away. Was it not why he left in the first place?

And now… Now there was an offer. A tempting offer at that… Sweet even, to rejoin this troop and finish off some business that should have been done long ago. Even now at that simple thought he could feel his muscles tense in wanting, needing. Was it the need for vengeance, or just the will to fight once more? He couldn’t say, and really he didn’t much care what it was, other then it existed and that was enough… Perhaps.

The roar of pyro echoed out and then the heavy base of an entrance tune kicked in, braking into his thoughts. The people around him stood, cheering and waving their banners in joy as the fighter walked out to appreciate the glory they gave him.

It was then that one of the nu-metal generation teenagers stared at him, trying to place the face in his memory, the concentration was visible and would have been highly amusing, was he the type of man who liked to laugh.

“Hey, ain’t I seen you before?” The youth asked of him, yelling above the music and fans to be heard. In response the man just shook his head no, pulling his jacket collar a little tighter to him. “No man, I swear I’ve seen you before. You ain’t from Limpin Park or somethin’?”

A frown furrowed the man’s brow as he tried his best to ignore the youth’s questions, moving a little more into the crowd, only to find a hand on his shoulder, impairing him slightly. The hand was removed, quickly and by force as the youth found his chin harshly against the man’s shoulder.

“Get this straight.” The man growled to the youth in a guttural tone. “You don’t know me. You’re friends don’t know me. Nobody knows me.” The hallow youth nodded vigorously, unable to actually form words given the pressure on his larynx, then he found himself sitting again, pushed back with a violent force into a spare seat as the man walked off into the crowds, a slight smirk on his face.

“Man, what was that all about?!” A concerned friend of the youth asked him, helping him up.

The youth blinked slightly, shaking his head to take a little shock out of his system. “That was… That was…” For a split second he considered confiding in his friend his suspicions, but then the thoughts of who it could be, and if it was, what he could do to him entered his mind as a hand went to rub his throat. “That was about nothin’ man. It was nobody, let’s just enjoy the show…”

August 10, 2002

“And here we are, back for some more SWF Storm,” greets ‘Grand Slam’ Mark Stevens to a huge ovation from the crowd. The camera sweeps around the arena, getting glimpses of thousands of fans all on their feet. “What a show we have had so far.” The picture finally settles down onto the two commentators of the SWF, Mark Stevens and Bobby Riley.

“Definitely one that will be remembered for some great wrestling,” Riley concurs. “We’ve had six matches already, with two still left! And this next one, oh yeah, I can’t wait to see it.”

“It should be a heated bout, getting its birth from Smarkdown earlier this week,” Stevens explains. “Lerrin Breggan will be taking on Annie Eclectic, who has been on a huge run lately. She has been beating Creative Control pretty well in the recent history, and even holds a victory over Mr. Breggan in the tag team ranks.”

“Sacred was the one that got pinned, remember that,” Riley chimes in. “And her comments before the match seem to have gotten her into a little bit of trouble, because I don’t think Lerrin took to them very kindly. I think commissioner McWeed is giving Lerrin this match as a favor, a way to prove something.”

“You know,” begins Stevens. “I just might have to agree with you for once Riley.” Funyon enters the ring, mic in hand to a large pop from the fans here in the Nassau Coliseum. “Lets get started!”

Funyon raises the mic, keeping a small dramatic pause to garner another cheer. “Ladies and gentlemen, your next match is scheduled for one fall. It is a regular match, no special stipulations added. Introducing first, standing at six feet four inches, weighing in at 285 pounds, hailing from Cincinnati Ohio, member of Creative Control, LERRIN BREGGAAAAAN!!”

The crowd’s cheers turn into a heavy chorus of boos as the lights go black. “Victory” by Doe or Die thunders over the arena for a few seconds, then the entrance ramp lights up with white pyro as the music begins to speed up. When the smoke clears, a huge monster of a man can be seen standing directly under the Smarktron. He slowly marches to the squared circle, glaring a hole into the announcer’s desk. He rolls under the bottom rope and moves across the ring, not removing his gaze from the two SWF veteran retirees as the lights come back on.

“What is his problem?” Stevens questions. “I don’t like his look, and it sure as hell isn’t going to intimidate me.”

“Well I know he’s not looking at me!” Riley says, sounding a bit relieved. “Maybe he is just trying to keep his focus up until Annie is ready for her beat down.”

Funyon interrupts the staredown, bringing out the next combatant. The lights dim and a spotlight centers on the backstage curtain. Molly walks out from the back, microphone in hand. “Introducing next,” Funyon begins.

“I’ll take over from here Funyon, thank you very much,” Molly cuts in, getting a big pop from the fans. A familiar guitar sequence plays loudly as Funyon exits the ring, knowing his duty shall be done well. “Coming out next, the girl we all love, the girl we all know, she is 5 feet 7 inches tall, weighs 155 pounds, member of X Force 9, your NEXT HARDCORE CHAMPION, the BEAUTIFUL ANNIE ECLECTIC!!!!”

A wall of white pyro flares up in front of Molly as the guitar slows to one beat, repeating over and over. Annie Eclectic emerges, getting a HUGE pop from the fans, sporting her familiar Kendo Sword. She grins at the other lady, not showing any fear at all as Molly hands her the mic. Annie brings it up to speak, the crowd hushing in respect for the female warrior.

“Well lookie here! Isn't it nice that we have a "Fighting" Hardcore champion like Jay Dawg? I mean, here I am, all ready for a rematch, and Drazon's off fighting someone that got their brains scrambled only four days ago! Real noble! So, what I propose is, that I go after you're little bitch lover here, seeing as you'll never face me... I'll kick his ass from here to Comiskey Park, and then I'll come trash you like I should have at Ground Zero. Any complaints? Too bad, because Breggan, you're going to have to kill me to keep me from your little princess bitch Jamie Drazon!”

“Strong words from the female challenger here,” Stevens remarks, a little unconvinced of her words. “She is looking past Lerrin to her next target, and that could definitely be a downfall for her tonight.”

“Damn right, no one looks past Lerrin, no matter who you are!”

Annie sprints towards the ring right after she throws the mic to the ground, removing her favored weapon and throwing it at the steps in full stride. She slides into the ring and stands, still charging at the huge man in front of her. The bell rings, signaling the beginning of the match as Annie takes Breggan by surprise and nails a high Dropkick to the chest. Lerrin staggers back as Annie gets up, who nails him with a stiff European Uppercut. Molly finally makes it to the ring and grabs the kendo stick, keeping it safe for a later time.

Lerrin shakes his head, determined to shrug off the attacks of the lady, but can’t do it fast enough. Annie continues her assault, hitting lefts and rights to Lerrin’s chin, and even an occasional elbow to the gut. Breggan falls to one knee under the assault, not knowing what to do or how to react as the crowd cheers the X Force 9 member on. Annie blasts Lerrin in the head with a strong Sidekick, knocking the big man down to the mat. She throws her arms up, but stomps down her opponent as the fans cheer loudly.

“Annie is using her speed and being the aggressor early in the match Riley,” Stevens points out. “She has taken the big man down, and isn’t letting him regain his senses at all. If, and a big IF, she can keep this kind of intensity up, she could wear him down before he can get too much offense in!”

“Yeah, we’ll see about that Mark.”

Annie gives Lerrin one last stomp to the face, then struggles to pull the Creative Control member up. The hits him with an elbow to the chin, then tries to irish-whip him across the ring as Molly cheers her on from ringside. Lerrin is sent hurtling towards the opposite side of the ring and hits the ropes. He bounces back as Annie surges forward, hitting a good looking Clothesline, but Lerrin stays on his feet. He looks up at her and takes a big right hook, but she ducks under the attack and bounces off the near ropes, then dives at him, taking out his right leg.

Lerrin buckles as he falls to one knee, using one hand to steady himself, but remains determined not to go down again. Annie opens up with a deadly kicking combination to Breggan’s thigh, hoping that he won’t be able to use his full strength if his legs are weakened. Lerrin tries to block the multiple attacks, but is unable to do so and falls back into a sitting position. He grits his teeth, obviously feeling some pain from the kicks, but then gets nailed in the jaw by a running Slidekick to the face. Annie quickly goes for the cover, hooking the legs as much as she can. Molly screams at the ref to hurry up as he gets into position to count.

ONE…

TWO… Lerrin throws the little lady off with ease.

“I see her strategy now,” Stevens comments. “She is trying to use her speed to keep the big man away from his power moves, and also trying to make him even slower by taking out his wheels.”

Annie springs to her feet quickly and looks over, watching the big wrestler stand. Lerrin, favoring his right leg, takes a few steps at his foe. He tries for a right hand which Annie ducks, then swings his left which she dodges also. She gives him a strong Frontkick to his soft leg, then moves to the side and brings her foot swinging into the back of his knee, causing the big man to sway yet again. Lerrin growls, determined not to fall, and throws his right arm wildly, connecting to Annie’s face. She skitters back a few steps and falls to her behind, but quickly gets up.

Molly screams at Lerrin, who has now turned to face the assailant. He takes a step and tries to grab her, but once more she is took quick and cuts away from Lerrin’s attempt. She punches his leg again, doing anything to try and make it give out, but he remains standing, though obviously pained. She hits another jab to the chest, then reaches up and grabs Lerrin’s head. In a flash, she pulls it down and connects her knees to his face in a swift striking move, getting a big cheer from Molly and the rest of the fans. Lerrin falls backwards, straight onto his back as Annie goes for the pin once more. The ref gets down to count.

“Damn she is just tearing the rookie apart,” Stevens blurts out plainly. “Her speed and ring savvy is just too much.”

ONE…

“But did you see Lerrin hit her with that one shot? She went flying.”

TWO…

“That is only one shot, and Ms. Eclectic is a tough girl. She can take quite a beating Riley!”

THR--- Lerrin throws Annie away once again, but this time she lands on her feet.

The X Force 9 member is on top of her opponent before he can stand. She continues to jar him with heavy kicks to the midsection, then finally brings him up. She kicks his leg out once more, but Breggan quickly shifts his weight to the other side and remains upright. The fans cheer on the Hardcore Queen as her face turns into a scowl, wondering what it is going to take to bring this monster down. She backs up and bounces off the ropes, then comes back with a Flying Elbow, connecting squarely to the beast of a wrestler, but he STILL stays up, trying not to give her the satisfaction of taking him down easily.

Annie tries for a right hook, but Lerrin blocks it. He hits her in the face, barely as she tried to duck away from the punch. She staggers back, giving Lerrin the opportunity to blast away again. This time she cleanly dodges out of the way, right into a backhand from the lumbering brute. Annie reacts with lightning reflexes again, ducking under this attack and running for the far ropes. She rebounds and heads back, then vaults off her feet into a Flying Crossbody, hoping to bring Lerrin down with her weight and maybe even holding on for a pin. But this is not so, as Lerrin readies himself and catches the lightweight in midair, getting himself a huge blast of boos from the fans here in New York.

“Bad move there,” Riley states with a small grin creasing his lips. “She got a little too carried away with her antics, then overestimated the damage that she has dealt thus far! Honestly, why would a cruiserweight put themselves into a position to be caught and hammered?”

“She might have been a little overzealous there, but I’m confident that Annie can take the blow and still continue on!” Stevens gets out. “One move can only do so much damage.”

Lerrin pulls her up, then brings her down onto his knee, hearing a loud scream from the lady as he stretches her across his knee for a big Backbreaker. He drops her to the mat, still favoring his right knee a little bit, then grins, ready to inflict some more pain onto his opponent. She tries to get up before Lerrin can attack again, but he is right there to stomp her back down to the mat. She howls in pain, getting a very a worried look from Molly, the beautiful lady at ringside. Lerrin grins at his X Force 9’s escort, then kicks Annie in the ribs with his big unforgiving boot. Annie rolls over, clutching at her midsection in pain as Lerrin throws his arms up and taunts the crowd, begging them to boo him even louder than they already are.

He stalks his prey, then pulls her up slowly, using the short hair and strong grip to slam his point home. She tries to fight back with a futile punch to the chest, but Lerrin just absorbs it like a mosquito bite. He slams his fist into her forehead, hitting yet another solid shot to the female wrestler. She falls to a knee, but doesn’t go down completely, trying anything to mentally break down the newcomer to the SWF. Lerrin doesn’t pay attention to her and attempts to land another punch, taking her to the mat. He howls in joy, then stomps on her with his good leg, still feeling some damage brewing on the right side.

“Damn, Lerrin has taken this match into his own hands,” Stevens grunts, not happy with the current situation. “I thought Annie could recover quickly, but I guess I was wrong…”

“Well,” Riley interjects. “I knew she couldn’t fight back once Lerrin Breggan started to get some offence in. It is just a matter of time now, Annie Eclectic is history, and Lerrin Breggan will move forward as the dominant force that he is!”

“Don’t be so sure of that, Lerrin hasn’t even attempted a pin! Annie is one tough customer, and I DOUBT she will be out so soon!”

Breggan watches the lady roll away, using her ring instincts to put some distance between the two wrestlers. He allows her to stand, maybe even overestimating his own abilities, and the and continues to watch the lady collect herself. Annie’s brow is a little creased, wondering why the big man isn’t continuing the attack, but doesn’t shun it away. She looks over at Molly for some encouragement, getting everything she needs then charges at Lerrin. The creative control member doesn’t budge, confident that he can take anything the girl gives him. Annie surprises him with a Dropkick to the right leg, still focusing her attack. Breggan falls to the canvas, clutching at his tender leg.

She is assaulting Lerrin’s limb before anyone can react, hearing the crowd’s approval as Breggan screams out in pain. She hits him a few times, then lugs the big guy to the center of the ring. He tries to do a pushup, obviously face down, but she sits on his back, sending Lerrin’s face crashing towards the mat. She then grabs his right leg and pulls it up, holding the creative control member in a tentative Boston Crab!

“Unexpected tactic here,” Stevens inserts. “Annie has brought the match BACK into her favor and is now trying to get Lerrin to submit! He is definitely attacking the correct spot, and if anything is going to make him tap out it will be a focused attack on his right leg.”

“I tell you what Stevens, if Lerrin is going to get anywhere here in the SWF he is going to have to become more grounded. He just let Annie recover and come back into this match, not even caring about a thing! I just don’t understand his thinking, he had some momentum but let it all go back into his opponent’s favor!”

“And you wonder why you lost matches,” Stevens grins at his partner.

Breggan yells out, feeling his leg throbbing from the onslaught of Annie’s tactics. He inches towards the ropes, but she stills holds tight ands pulls back, trying to wrench every bit of strength from his weakened appendage as possible. Breggan reaches the ropes and stretches his arm out, almost able to grab the savior of this foul submission hold, but can’t quite get the ropes. The X Force 9 member gets more support from the crowd, hoping that the big man gives up before he shows his true colors, but it isn’t so. The ref continues to ask Lerrin if he submits, but he gives the referee a resounding negative. Annie, hearing this, drags Lerrin back to the center of the ring, then bends backwards even more.

The pressure on the neophyte’s leg is tremendous, but he goes silent. The ref looks at Annie then shrugs. He pulls Lerrin’s arm up once, and lets it drop soundly to the mat. The crowd roars their approval as the ref does it again, still with the same result. Annie smiles broadly as the ref brings his massive arm up once more, but this time it stays in the air. Her face goes into an expression of horror, but is wiped clean quickly as Lerrin pushes his upper body upwards and straightens his leg out, tossing Annie to the ropes. He gets to his feet, even though his right leg is still very vulnerable, but there is a fire in his eyes.

“Uh oh, Lerrin looks pissed. Annie almost had him I could have swore it was over there damnit,” Stevens mutters. “She has totally dominated thus far, and who knows, she could come up and use her speed to keep the match in her favor.”

“Look at Lerrin,” Riley fires back. “Not likely. His eyes show what is coming next, and I am glad that Annie Eclectic is in the ring against him and not I!”

“Hell Riley, you’re glad anyone is in the ring but you!”

“Not true Stevens, I could still take you anytime, any day, anywhere!!”

“Bring it boy, you know I would take you down!”

Riley starts to respond, but keeps silent as the two wrestlers in the ring make their moves. Lerrin bursts forward, onto his left leg, going for a huge Lariat, but misses high over Annie’s duck. She hits a forearm to Lerrin’s chest, but the big man shrugs it off and goes for another punch to her head. He misses, only to bring his other arm around in a backhand swipe that barely singes her face. He comes down with a club to the neck, which she tries to block but his strength just overpowers her. His fist impacts onto her neck by sheer force, but not completely as Annie still stays upright. She kicks Lerrin’s leg in desperation, hoping it is enough to slow down his attack, but he still grabs her hand and hurls her towards the far ropes.

She hits them and comes back at full speed, readying herself for an attack on the creative control member. She starts to go into motion but he steps up and grabs her, the hoists the small frame above his head in a Gorilla Press. The crowd gives him their opinion of his tactics, but he ignores them and lets himself enjoy the current setting. After quite a few seconds of holding the X Force 9 lady up, Lerrin’s right leg starts to tremble and he tosses her to the mat. She winces in pain as her shoulders impact hard, but doesn’t have much time as Breggan goes for the pin. The ref jumps down to count.

ONE…

TWO…

THR--- Annie kicks out, still showing fight as Molly claps loudly and shows her approval.

“Finally Lerrin has shown some initiative and taken matters into his own hands,” Stevens notes. “Even though I don’t think this match is all that fair, Lerrin Breggan has shown that he is here to get a victory, and that his head in the right place! Annie Eclectic is one tough customer though, and a Gorilla Press Slam is not going to be enough to keep her down.”

Lerrin snarls at the ref, trying to indicate that the count should have been three, but it obviously doesn’t matter. Annie clearly kicked out before, but he continues to argue his point home anyway. He stands and stalks towards the ref, but Annie gets her senses back quickly. She scans around before she acts, then darts forward and slips her arm between Lerrin’s legs and pulls back, getting him into a Schoolboy Pin. The referee immediately starts the count, not wanting to let the heel win.

ONE…

TWO…

THRE--- Lerrin kicks out, enraged at the underhanded tactic from his rival.

“Quick move there, could have gotten her the win,” Riley says with a bit of sarcasm on his tone. “She used her experience to get the better of Lerrin, but I think she is going to pay here in the long run!”

“Whatever, its things like that that make Annie Eclectic such a valuable asset to this company! Lerrin is an overconfident bastard that deserves to lose this match, and the only reason he might edge out a victory is his obvious physical advantages!”

“Why else would he win Stevens, he isn’t a ring general, that’s for damn sure!”

Lerrin and Annie both pop back to their feet, though Lerrin is still looking pretty hurt from Annie’s concentrated beating. They circle slowly, trying to figure out what the other is going to do. In a smart move, Annie signals for a lockup, which the rookie quickly agrees to engage in, but little does he know that the X Force 9 member has different plans. Breggan reaches out, ready for the challenge but he hits yet another stiff kick to his midsection, but this just angers the already pissed off creative control hitman. He grabs at her again, but misses once more. Annie tries to get a lot of power behind her next kick, but fails as Lerrin catches her leg in midmove, then l flings her over his head, executing a T-Bone Suplex and making Annie regret any kind of offensive maneuver she had in mind.

The shock instilled into her neck and shoulders was tremendous, but Lerrin moved in for another attack. He had a glazed look in his eyes, angry at the embarrassment Annie had caused him by dominating most of the match thus far. He pulled her up, as she was in no shape to fight back after such a devastating move, then spun her around. He got her in a back waistlock, then brought her up and over, hitting her neck and shoulders yet again with a huge Release German Suplex. The crowd booed heavily as Annie tried to roll away, purely on instinct as not to get pinned right now. Lerrin stalked his prey, almost taking joy even though he was visibly limping and not feeling 100 percent.

“Those could be signaling the next move in this match Stevens,” Riley warns loudly. “He is softening her up, and what a way to do it!”

“Annie still has enough smarts to try and get away, she isn’t out of this fight yet!”

The female warrior rolls over to Molly’s corner, then gives her a slight glance, a subtle signal as she grabs at her neck. Lerrin doesn’t move in quickly, trying to instill fear into the lady, paying her back for her snide remarks over the past few shows. Eventually, Lerrin moves in and goes for Annie’s hair, a favorite to taunt her with, but she whips around and slaps him in the head with her KENDO STICK! The crowd goes WILD as Lerrin falls back like a ton of bricks, laying in the center of the ring and ripe for the picking. Annie throws the stick back outside and crawls onto the monster slowly, still feeling the effects of his massive attacks. The referee, either ignoring the attacks or utterly blind, goes for the count.

ONE…

TWO…

THREE--- LERRIN throws her off, though bleeding in the center of his forehead.

“MY GOD! He took one of Annie’s best shots to the head and is still able to throw the lady off like she is nothing! What a great competitor,” Riley yells.

“But he almost lost the match there Riley! Lerrin isn’t as impervious as you may think! He has come close to losing this match so many times, and Annie has definitely shown that she is the better wrestler!”

Breggan gets up, not even acknowledging the blood on his face. He bursts forward before Annie can stand, and catches her in his grip. He slams her in the stomach with a huge knee, then locks in a reverse double underhook! He rotates around, then stands straight up, holding the lady in a very precarious position.

“HERE WE GO!” Riley shrieks excitedly.

Lerrin jumps up, then lands, giving Annie the impact of her life as he hits the Kingdom Come! The crowd boos LOUDLY, almost deafening as Lerrin goes for the pin, which is academic after such a move.

ONE…

“What the HELL ARE YOU DOING LERRIN!” screams a voice from the back.

“Who the hell is this,” demands Stevens. “What is going on here?!”

TWO…

“TEACH HER A LESSON, for you, for me, for CREATIVE CONTROL!” The voice is now very clear, Jamie Drazon, the Hardcore Champion is calling out his friend to exact more damage onto the girl in the ring, much to molly’s concern.

THREE--- Lerrin pulls Annie’s shoulders up in the nick of time.

“CHRIST, this does not NEED to happen!! Mind your own fucking business Jay Dawg!” Stevens blurts out fiercely, standing at his announcing table.

Lerrin locks the limp body into the reverse double underhook again, then spins her around and slams the injured neck of Annie Eclectic into the unforgiving mat once more. The crowd can’t stomach this brutal finish, and begins to throw trash into the ring as Lerrin pins her for a second time, feeling the end coming soon.

ONE…

TWO…

THREE…

“Your winner, LERRIN BREGGAN,” announces Funyon from the outside as Breggan gets up and demands a mic. Funyon obliges, yet showing disgust for the man’s actions in the ring.

“Damn right I’m your winner,” Lerrin begins to a unanimous expression of jeers. “Annie Eclectic,” he looks down at her crumpled unmoving body. “You messed with the wrong man here tonight! The SWF is my Kingdom, and lately I haven’t been performing up to snuff. Well I decided to show what I can do here tonight, and you were just the first JESTER to get in my way! I will have that SWF WORLD HEAVYWEIGHT TITLE and I WILL HAVE IT SOON! Creative Control is THE force to be reckoned with, and we have proved it here tonight. Annie Eclectic, you’ve been in my kingdom long enough, and its about DAMN TIME you were KNOCKED THE FUCK OUT!” Lerrin throws the mic to the ground and poses to the crowd as the cameras fade out, Riley and Stevens left speechless from the cruel actions of this SWF Superstar.

August 10, 2002

“Now that was a hell of a match, a lot of action between Lerrin and Annie, I just hope the Main Event that is coming up will be as good as this one…” Mark said

“Well, I’m still waiting for Bo… I still remember that he was suppose to come out and say something about his return.” Bobby said.

All of a sudden the crowd goes crazy, and it’s weird because there was no music playing, no voice heard, nothing…

“Now, if this is Bo then I know this is weird” Riley asked…

The crowd begins to chant ‘Bo, Bo, Bo’ as the Bronx native makes his way down the ramp. 10 feet behind him LDP, pumping his fist in the air with a big ass smile on his face.

“Yep, it’s weird.”

Bo is rocking a nice dark brown Armani suit with dark brown crocodile shoes… This is the first time anybody ever saw Bo this way as he goes towards the stairs, goes up, walks across the apron and then goes through the second and third rope. LDP just slides in and waits. Bo starts to go around the ring, listening to the crowd react to him, the chants, the cheers, it’s basically all new to him as he goes towards the corner, climb to the second turnbuckle and raises both hands which is balled up into a fist as the crowd goes wild. LDP is seen clapping and looking at Bo with a smile on his face as the man that retired Thugg, that made an impact in a lot of situation involving this fed, that made people work harder when he quit is back and ready for action. He goes down the turnbuckle and walk towards the direction of the announce table and asked for a mike, he receives one, he walks around the ring for a few seconds before placing the mike close to his lips and finally saying:

“I’m back…” The crowd goes wild, cutting the sentence short which caused Bo to lower the mike and look around the ring with a twinkle in his eyes, with a smile on his face, he waits patiently for the crowd to come down, when it does, he raises the mike up again and finished the sentence as he said: “home…”

The crowd erupts as man-made just that second signs was raised high in the air stating ‘Welcome back Bo’ and others saying ‘Perfection is back’. Bo raised the mike towards his lips again and said:

“I’m glad to be back… And it’s because of you…” Bo points towards the crowd. “That I’m back, all the letters I received, I go to the Internet and all the e-mails I get about me leaving and that I was the lungs of this fed, the lungs… Ya make me feel welcome that’s why right now I’m showing you gratitude, that’s why I…” Bo puts his hand on his chest and then said: “I thank you…” He said that last sentence while he points towards the crowd.

The crowd goes bonkers at this point as LDP continues to clap his hands and nod his head up and down.

“Now, many people are asking why I’m back if I feel so strongly about SWF and their work ethics and how poor it was? Well, my good friend Mark Stevens once said that people always change, either for the good or the bad, but at one point they change… This fed change for the great… When I left I was bitching and complaining, complaining and bitching about wrestlers work ethics and how poor it was, how people stop trying ever since Thugg got tragically injured. Yes, yes, I know it was my fault, but I feel that I changed. When I retired I went through so much drama that I needed to go home and” points to the ground “This is home.”

The crowd still goes bananas as LDP puts his hand on Bo’s shoulder and agrees with everything he’s saying.

“Night in and night out people know that I bust my ass for this fed and I love this fed, but there was only a chosen few that did work, others just lie down waiting for things to happen and that’s not right… You have to make things happen and that’s what’s going on right now, these youngsters are making things happen. I mean, we have the Boston Strangler who when I was here a while ago he wasn’t doing shit, now he’s always contending for the ICTV title. People like Flesher who is, my god, an awesome fighter that took ELM straight, well, you saw the PPV. People like TNT and Frost who is doing their thing in the tag team division, Silent who is trying to make a name for him self by getting in the mix in the Main Event and being a somewhat powerful force. And others that I for some reason forgot to mention, these are a bunch of young talented group who give 110% every time they come out.”

“You know, everything that Bo has to say makes sense and I agree with him.” Riley said surprise that he said that.

“Me too.”

“The reason why I’m back is because I think that I still got something in me to prove… I also want to work with these talented young kids that are doing their thing. Like Strangler, I just want to face him because he keeps saying that New York sucks…” The crowd boos heavily since we are in New York. “He’s just mad because the Yankees are better than the Boston teacups…” The crowd gets hyped up once they heard the word Yankees, even though Long Island are primary Mets fans, but they still show love because it’s New York City. “Other people that are making a name for themselves and is doing their thing… So that’s why I’m back and I’m ready for action.”

“Fine, but what about being a Force 9?” Mark said to himself waiting for the Force 9 situation.

“Ok, now about me being a X Force 9…”

“Whoa, that was freaky…” Mark said

“It’s alright, but not freakier than mine…”

“Whatever.”

“People don’t know this but the only one that called me from the SWF was LDP, and he convinced me of returning and becoming a XF9. He’s the only one out of the roster that show interest in me returning and for that I thank him. We had our problems, but we don’t let that get between our work and he knows how I am about my job, about this fed, about this business. I love this fed and I want to do anything and everything in my power to help it. He asked me to become an Force 9, well my answer is…”

“Hold up, wait a damn minute…”

The crowd begins to Boo like if there’s no tomorrow.

“It’s Stubby, and he doesn’t seem happy.” Riley said.

Stubby starts storming down the ring with the mike on his left hand as he continues to say: “Just stop right there Bo…”

“What do you want Stubbs?”

“You out of my federation… You don’t work for us anymore…” Stubby said as he goes up the stairs and through the ropes. “You left, you quit, you breached your contract, you’re lucky that I didn’t sue your ass because what you did was inexcusable and I want you out of my ring.”

“Stubby, you can’t do that, my contract is still valid till 2004.”

“No, it’s still valid if you’re an active wrestler, and the only thing it covers if you’re out with an injury… You left once without warning and I let you slide because of Thugg and how he wanted you back with ‘Da Pound’ and what not, but not this time… You left and now I want you to leave.”

“C’mon Stubbs, we can talk about this.”

“Oh, when things were down you didn’t want to help, you being a veteran and a hard worker we needed you here but no, you just quit and you talk about other people not trying. And now that things are better than probably ever before you want to return and shit, no… Contradicting your self and what not, we don’t need that kind of shenanigans in this fed. Things just don’t work like that Mr. Brown. And now I’m asking you to leave, if not, you will get physically removed from the ring and this building.”

“Whoa, Stubby isn’t playing about this… It’s been a while I haven’t seen him turn red like that.” Said Riley shock to see Stubby in this state.

“You know what, I aint even gon’ argue with you, because I’m still going to lose… You’re the owner of this company, you run this shit, and I don’t… I’m just going to leave. LDP, talk to me when this guy realize that he fucked up aight?”

LDP tries to stop him as Bo hands him the mike, he goes through the ropes and makes his way up the ramp. Boos still echoes around the arena as Stubby screams:

“That’s right, leave you quitter, we don’t need you here, we’re doing just fine without you… And as for you…”

Stubby turns towards LDP who has a pretty pissed off face.

“Who in the hell gave you permission to start recruiting people to be back in my federation?”

“You’re federation? This is the people’s federation…”

“They don’t own half of the money that I own put together… They don’t own this business therefore it’s my federation… You have no right and I repeat, no right what’s so ever to do that. That’s why you’re going to pay.”

The crowd begins to shout and point…

“LDP, behind you…” Screams Stevens

“Yeah, with what?” LDP asked Stubby as a smile emerges on Stubbs lips. Stubby’s eyes shifts a bit to the right, right over LDP’s shoulder and LDP noticed that… When LDP turned…

----- Crack -----

Right between the eyes, a chair shot heard all around the world… The chair goes right through LDP’s head as Lerrin lays him out. LDP is trying to get up but he’s just too weak and hurt, he looks up the ramp hoping for help as Stubby crouches down and said: “You’re looking and hoping for help? You think someone is going to save the day for you? Take a look at this…”

The Tron awakens and it shows the front door of X Force 9’s locker room… It also shows a big ass chain with three locks on it as XF9 are trying to get out but to no avail… Then they show a picture of JD and Sacred giving each other high fives as they walk across the hallway…

“No one can help you now LDP… You’re a dead duck with some gravy on top, and some hot potatoes and, damn I got the munchies… Anyways, you’re dead LDP, you don’t have much of an option, either get your ass kicked, or get your BUTT kicked, I prefer ass but who cares… Lerrin is going to do all the work because he wants to show you some build up aggression that he’s been dying to release.” Stubby looks up and said: “Lerrin, finish him…”

Lerrin nods and is about to pick LDP up when Bo comes rushing in from the back. Lerrin puts LDP down and waits for Bo to slide in the ring. The crowd goes wild…

“Bo’s back, Bo’s back, Bo’s back!!!” Screams Mark.

Stubby leaves the ring and Lerrin throws a right hand, but it’s blocked as Bo smacks him with a right hand, another one, and another one causing Lerrin to fall back towards the ropes. Bo takes a few steps back, rushes forward and clothesline Lerrin over the top rope but the quiet storm lands right on his feet and slams the apron with his hand in fury…

LDP is struggling to get up as Bo quickly helps him to his feet. Stubby and Lerrin fall back as Stubby screams… “YOU DON’T WORK HERE ANYMORE.” LDP is now on his feet as Bo raises LDP’s hand but LDP is out of it.

“Well, Stubby has to let Bo in the federation in order for Bo to become a X Force 9 member and I really don’t see that happening.” Riley said surprise of what just happen here.

Bo still has LDP’s arm up as they walk around the ring, listening to the chants and cheers of victory when Bo quickly pulls LDP’s arm, grabs the head of LDP, shifts his body around and drops him down with the Perfect Pain… Leaving him motionless, the crowd is stunned; the announcers are stunned as Stubby and Lerrin smiles and slowly walks back. Lerrin slides in as Stubby goes up the stairs and through the ropes; he still has the mike with him as he passes it to Bo. Bo grabs it and he said: “Fuck ya X Club 7, you really think that you hold shit down because you have 7 people? That reminds me, fuck Wilson and his Masturbation 7, his crew don’t rock either… People seem to forget that I’m not going to join a group that all they do is talk and scream when they get mad, no, I want action and that’s why I’m sending a message to all the other punk ass groups out there… Ya wanna rumble with the bee, huh? Bring your whole family mother fuckers…” Bo stops to think for a moment, he then continues by saying:

“LDP, if you want to make a name for yourself, you know what to do… What in the hell makes you think I want to join your weak ass group? It’s all about Creative Control… Look at us, we are going to dominate quickly and it will first start with your group… You wanna bring the drama, let my bring the armor, that’s word to my mama…”

Lerrin just stands over the body of LDP as Stubby leans on a turnbuckle smiling. Bo continues to talk.

“I’m here to dominate and let my people shine… Sacred and JD both know me well, Lerrin and I will get to know each other more, but I like him already… Stubby knows how I am and well King will always be king… Now lets rock, and I want everybody to come home wit’ me.”

Bo drops the mike and without music they leave the ring and go up the ramp with a chorus of boos leaving LDP knocked the fuck out.

Riley is sitting there smiling as he said: “Bo made his decision and I think it’s a very wise one… I like this Lerrin guy, I mean, he seems so familiar, his style, the way he present himself is so, so familiar to me, that’s why I like him. Well, with the muscle of Bo now in the picture and the experience that he carries this is a very scary group… I wouldn’t mess with them.”

“I knew Bo was going to do something like that, I just knew it because that’s how Bo is… The hell with the good guys he just wants to be bad, he was born bad, live bad, and now he is bad… Well, there’s nothing we can do about it. He’s back and made his decision…”

“Damn right.”

“He’s a smart guy”

“Damn right.”

“He’s a good wrestler.”

“Damn right…”

“Even though he’s a homo.”

“Damn rig… What? No he’s not…”

“Whatever… Stay tune for the Main Event, it’s just around the corner.”

August 10, 2002

“Ah…ah…ah, ah, ah…”

“Ladies and gentlemen,” booms Mark Stevens, “welcome back to the Nassau Coliseum--”

“I am the KING of this city, TOP down, WINDOWS down, puffin’ like diddy…”

“—and welcome back to Chris Wilson!” Bobby Riley finishes up Grand Slam’s thought as the St. Lunatics’ “Summer in the City” blares over the sound system, the entrance ramp filling with fog as the Long Island audience lets fly with an absolute groundswell of boos!

The fog finishes emptying out onto the stage, the black-clad figure of the manipulative mastermind himself cuts a swath through the cloud, swaggering onto the entrance ramp with a cocksure grin on his face! “The following contest is an elimination match,” bellows Funyon, watching as Wilson cascades down the ramp, “and it is for the Smarks Wrestling Federation World Heavyweight Title!” Amidst all the boos, a few fans pop for the mention of the game’s highest prize, and Funyon continues on. “Entering first, hailing from Miami, Florida, and weighing in at 273 pounds…he is the leader of the Magnificent Seven…he is Chris Willllllllllllllllson!”

“Wilson’s in rare form tonight,” scoffs Stevens, as the M7 ringleader finishes his cocky jaunt down the ramp and climbs the ringsteps, pausing for a moment to jawjack with some front-row fans before stepping in. “I don’t know where you get off saying he’s underappreciated though, Riley…this is Wilson’s second world title shot in less than two months—very few people ever get that opportunity!”

“See, Mark? There you go!” shouts Riley, throwing his hands into the air. “Yeah, Wilson’s got another shot at your best little buddy’s title, but you know why? He earned it! Not only did he lead his team to a brutal, no-holds-barred victory at Wargames, but he tore through Lerrin Breggan, through Fallout, AND through XF9 wonder-kid Erek Taylor to earn the number-one contendership!”

“But Bobby,” says Mark, “you’re forgetting something. There’s someone else out there who’s earned a number-one contendership!”

And as if on cue, the Nassau Coliseum is suddenly bathed in blue light as “Quarantined” replaces “Summer in the City”! The Smarktron illuminates with images of the Clan’s own Balancer in action, the crowd changes their angry disposition to one of solid cheers! “How’d you know that was going to happen, Mark? It’s almost like we had our commentary and entrances coordinated as part of some fantastic master plan…”

“Hush, Bobby. You’re ruining the festivities!” And without warning, the beat of “Quarantined” explodes, and the blue lights roar into a crimson blaze, drawing a loud pop from the crowd! Shrouded in the black robes of the Clan, the angular figure of Thoth appears at the top of the ramp…and pauses, raising his arms to absorb a few cheers!

“Entering next,” bellows Funyon, smirking at Thoth’s rare showmanship, “from Parts Unknown, weighing in at 236 pounds, he is a member of the Clan, the Balancer…THOOOOOTH!” At the call of his name, Thoth begins a slow stalk down the ramp, ignoring the fans as they reach over the guardrail, trying to catch a high-five or some show of acknowledgement from the Clan’s most noble warrior.

“Thoth won his shot at the world title a week before Wargames, when he topped the Boston Strangler,” explains Stevens, “and he’s been waiting ever since to get his hands on the strap! He looks pumped tonight, Riley—and who’da thought that Clan robe would be getting such cheers?”

“Certainly not me,” mutters Riley. “It’s not all fun and games though, Mark,” says Riley, as Thoth slides into the ring and sheds his robe. “You forget that Wilson already beat Thoth one-on-one this past Monday, and you forget that relations between the Clan and Carnival aren’t exactly peachy lately! Thoth’s getting the cheers now, but I’ll tell you this—he might hate Wilson, but he wants MacPhisto’s title, and if the champ gets in Thoth’s way, we’re gonna go all Led Zeppelin and see a little bit of communication breakdown!” In the ring, Thoth straightens out his dress shirt, glaring at Wilson all the while, showing as little emotion as possible as Wilson taunts him by pantomiming the finish to Smarkdown’s main event.

“These two are fresh in each other’s mind,” adds Stevens. “Wilson might have put Thoth down in the Finishing Touches, but along the way he felt the sting of the Riot of the Blood—and Bobby, you and I have both been on the receiving end of THAT move too many times to count. It’s not something you easily forget. Thoth returned to our federation solely to take out Wilson, and while he may not have succeeded the first time, he has another chance tonight…of course, we’re forgetting all about one rather important person through all this…”

And the arena lights drop out one more time, leaving Thoth and Wilson to glare at each other under only the stark illumination of the Smarktron, fading in and out on grey silhouettes of a man bearing a microphone, his arms outstretched as the haunting beginning of “Battleflag” floats through the Coliseum! The fans respond with a steadily rising roar of recognition, and a voice from the back rises up to greet them!

“No chatter tonight, ladies and gents…tonight, we’re all business…hallelujah…”

BOOOOM!

A huge eruption of red and gold pyro erupts from the entrance as the vocals of “Battleflag” drop in, and fighting through the smoke and flames like a bat out of hell comes Edwin MacPhisto, tag title draped across his left shoulder and World Heavyweight Title draped across the right! Edwin raises his belts high, and Funyon takes the Destiny’s Child route and says his name, says his name, says his name!

“And their opponent, from Amsterdam, England, weighing in at 239 pounds, one-half of the tag team champions, and YOUR SWF World Heavyweight Champion…Edwin MacPhistOOOOO!”

“No chatter from Edwin? Damn, that’s not a whole lotta love for our Long Island crowd.”

“You heard him, Bobby—he’s been stressed, and this is a huge match…and what the hell is with you and Led Zeppelin tonight anyway?”

“…you need coolin’, Mark. And baby, I ain’t foolin’.”

“…I hate you so much.”

Edwin immediately turns to Thoth as the referee checks up on all three men’s readiness, conferencing briefly with the Balancer. Wilson leans against the ring ropes, tapping his foot impatiently and waving at the referee to get this show on the road. The crowd is electric as Edwin gives Thoth a pat on the shoulder and steps away a short distance, and all three men in the ring shoot their eyes back and forth between each other.

“Anyone can win here tonight,” says Stevens.

“It’s like a Mexican stand-off…but we’re fresh out of Mexicans.”

“…”

DING DING DING!

The bell sounds out, and all three wrestlers snap to attention. Thoth is the first to drop into a fighting stance—crouched, and Edwin and Wilson soon follow suit. The three men eye each other…and start to circle each other, each man moving after the man ahead of him, keeping his eyes on the man behind him. “The world title is on the line, and Thoth, Edwin, Wilson are all in this only for themselves.” As the men continue to circle up, ever-so-slowly closing the circle, closing the distance between them, the Nassau Coliseum fills with rapid claps, getting faster, faster, faster, as Edwin reaches a hand up and out towards Thoth, who follows suit…as Wilson inches forward, raising his own hands to meet Thoth’s and Edwin’s, each hand hovering inches from each other hand. Edwin and Thoth lock hands, move forward for Wilson’s…

“Triple lock-up to start…”

…and Wilson shoots out both his feet, sending one flying each way as he hits the mat and kicks both Thoth and Edwin on their inside knees, briefly doubling them over! The crowd boos as Edwin and Thoth shudder, hands still linked! Wilson scrambles to his feet and comes off the ropes as the two linked men rise, and the crowd roars its disapproval as he knocks both men out of their boots with a double clothesline! The shot splits Edwin and Thoth apart and Wilson tumbles over them, dropping into a roll as he lands, quickly scrambling over to hook Thoth’s leg!

ONE—and the Balancer kicks out violently, shoving Wilson off. “That’s Chris Wilson for you!” cries Mark Stevens. “He’ll take a win any way he can get it, and I can guarantee he wants to see Edwin or Thoth, two of his biggest adversaries, eliminated as soon as possible!” Wilson quickly gets back to his feet, driving a firm jab into the rising Thoth’s gut as he pulls him into a headscissors, scrambling for a sloppy gutwrench—no, Edwin blasts Wilson with a flying forearm from behind! The hit knocks Thoth out of the headscissors and into the ropes, and Edwin quickly grabs hold of Wilson’s waist, lifts him up…and slams him back to the mat with a high back suplex! “Edwin blocks Wilson’s powerbomb on Thoth—and goes for a cover of his own!”

ONE!—and Wilson kicks out just as easily, throwing Edwin off of him. Both men charge back to their feet in a fighting stance, Wilson with his back unfortunately pointed towards the recovered Thoth, who blasts forward and lands a stiff clothesline of his own right into the back of Wilson’s neck. The mastermind drops, clutching his skull, and Thoth stops only momentarily before rocketing forward again, this time with a lariat for the champ! Thoth’s slight delay gives Edwin warning, though, and he ducks under the arm, whirls back around…and eats a toe kick to the gut as Thoth comes off the ropes! The Balancer nets a front facelock and hooks Edwin for a double-arm DDT, but before he can lift, Edwin catches his breath and dumps Thoth over with a back body drop onto Chris Wilson! The crowd lets out a blast of applause as Wilson struggles awkwardly beneath Thoth, and Edwin leans back against the turnbuckle, catching his breath! “What a high-octane start to this three-way-dance!” shouts Mark Stevens, giddy at the in-ring action.

“Come on Wilson—make them tap out, right now!” But Wilson’s not interested in a submission at this point—he’s interested in getting Thoth off of him! With a shove and a tumble, Wilson gets the dazed Thoth out of the way, rising to his feet just in time to see his rival MacPhisto hopping up to the second rope, leaping out, and blasting him with an elbow to the forehead!

“Edwin’s cleaning house so far--”

--but Thoth silences Stevens with a shoulder block right into Edwin’s gut! The blow nearly pushes the Mac Daddy through the ropes, but Thoth wrenches him back, pulling Edwin off the ropes straight into a front facelock. Thoth plants his feet, rattles off a couple words in Japanese, and then kicks forward, wrenching Edwin backwards with a blazing snap suplex into a floatover! The ref drops to count as Thoth presses Edwin as hard as he can…

ONE!

TW—Edwin kicks out of the fast maneuver, and from his knees Thoth grabs Edwin’s hair, ready to pull him up, but Wilson comes blazing in, swinging the toe of his boot right into Thoth’s jaw! The Balancer sails away, and Wilson drops down and hooks Edwin in a tight cradle! “Wilson’s trying to steal Thoth’s cover on the champion!”

ONE!

TWO—and Edwin bursts out with authority, shoving his palm up into the underside of Wilson’s jaw as he escapes. Wilson massages his jaw, distracted as Edwin scrambles away, the Mac Daddy turning…and his eyes meeting Thoth’s across the ring! The Balancer gives Edwin a nod, Edwin responds in kind, and the two men barrel forward to a big ovation, both rocketing towards Wilson…and sandwiching the Magnificent Seven’s maestro with a pair of running kneelifts to the head! “Thoth slams his knee into the back of Wilson’s head, and Edwin into the front—it’s a patella sandwich, folks!” The crowd gives a loud cheer as double-crunched Wilson collapses in the center of the ring…leaving Edwin and Thoth locked in a staredown. “Wilson’s down, and that double-team can’t last!” cackles Riley.

Thoth and Edwin look ready to explode…as they both bend down and pull Wilson off the mat! A high-pitched “Damn you, bitches!” is heard from the Riley region of the announce table as Edwin and Thoth whip Wilson into the ropes, catch his still-dizzied form on the rebound, and float him up and over into a two-man powerslam! Wilson crashes down face-first, and as Thoth rises off the slam, he shouts to Edwin, pointing at Wilson’s legs. “What are they gonna do—ah, no! Chris, get out get out get out!” Riley goes mild and the crowd goes wild as Thoth and Edwin each take one of Wilson’s legs and roll forward, pulling the mastermind into a two-man Boston crab…or a double single-leg crab…or a two-man single-leg…you get the picture! “That’s illegal! They can’t both get the submission!”

“Why not?” retorts Stevens. “This is an elimination match—until it’s one-on-one, double-teams like this are totally sound!” The crowd roars as the referee gets in Wilson’s face, urging him to give up, but the man from Miami won’t give up. He moves for the ropes, tugging one leg at a time…and noticing less resistance from the Edwin side of things. Thinking on his feet—or his stomach, really—Wilson rolls out towards Thoth, forcing Edwin to twist awkwardly to maintain the submission…and the Mac Daddy can’t hold it! With a shake of his left leg and a desperation kick, Wilson breaks him off, and as Thoth tries to capture the left leg, Wilson sends him packing by driving the sole of his left boot square into the Balancer’s face!

“Two men can’t take him down!” squeals Riley as Wilson hurries to his feet.

“Right, Bobby. 15 seconds ago you were having a panic attack!”

“I’m asthmatic, Mark! Jeez!”

“…that’s not how asthma works at all!” The commentators babble away while back in the ring, Wilson winces as he gets to his full height, feeling the strain on his legs thanks to the Boston Crab. As Thoth and Edwin shakes out their stirred brains, Wilson stumbles to the ropes, taking his leave as he leans into them and tries to shake out his legs. “A focused attack, just like Thoth and Edwin used on Wilson’s legs,” explains Stevens, “is going to be crucial in this match. Whoever wins is going to have to last two falls, and that’s going to be easy with a busted knee or a contorted arm.” After a few moments of recovery time, Wilson is feeling chipper again. He momentarily sizes up his two opponents…and moves for Edwin! Edwin’s at his knees when Wilson arrives, and the Mac Daddy’s nemesis brings him all the way back up to his feet with a stiff uppercut! “Wilson’s gone after Edwin…”

“…cause Edwin’s a pussy!”

“…sigh. You never quit, do you Bobby?” Wilson pulls Edwin up and throws another punch into his jaw before whipping him into the corner. The Mac Daddy impacts back-first, and Wilson follows up, cracking his knuckles before dashing forward and leaping with a Stinger splash! Edwin lets out a big gasp as all 273 pounds of Wilson slam into him, and Wilson keeps the assault up, unloading a barrage of left and right hooks into Edwin’s face and driving him down into a slumped position! The crowd boos heavily as Wilson steps back, surveys his quarry…and plants his boot right into Edwin’s throat, blatantly choking him out! The referee quickly goes to the four-count!

“ONE!

TWO!

THREE!

FOUR!” And Wilson pulls his boot off for a moment, soaking in the jeers…before putting it right back on Edwin’s throat! “Blatant boot choke from Chris Wilson, doing his best—or worst—to wear down Edwin MacPhisto in the early-goings!” calls Stevens. The referee tries to pull him off, but Wilson refuses to budge, and he has no choice but to go to another four-count!

“ONE!

TWO!

THREE--” But this time the count is broken with a cheer and a tug, as Thoth comes rushing up from behind and throws a sleeper onto Wilson, tearing him out of the corner! Edwin gasps for life and struggles to push himself up, watching as Thoth drags a thrashing Wilson out to the center of the ring…and drops to his knees, turning the sleeper hold into a reverse Ace Crusher and cracking Wilson’s jaw over his shoulder! “What a maneuver by Thoth, laying Wilson out in the center of the ring--”

“—and giving Edwin time to recover!” snipes Riley. “Conspiracy! Conspiraceeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!”

“…and I am totally ignoring Bobby, and watching with rapt attention as Thoth goes to the top for the first time in this match-up!” The Balancer rapidly springs up to the top rope, pausing at the top only momentarily to check his six and confirm Wilson’s position. The crowd cheers as the no-nonsense Balancer faces out towards them, and flashbulbs erupt as he suddenly leaps backward, soaring to the center of the ring…and leading with his knees! “Kneedrop moonsault! This is gonna hurt…”

Thoth streaks through the sky…

…and slams into the mat knees-first with a deafening crunch as Chris Wilson rolls out of the way! Thoth cries out in immense pain and collapses to the side, clutching at his compacted caps, trying to push himself up…and howling at the sharp tinges shooting through his body! “Too much too soon from the Balancer!” shouts Stevens, wincing at the sight. “That moonsault would have been huge had Thoth connected, but with a vulnerable, high-impact landing like that…ouch.” Wilson stares at Thoth, his eyes wide as Thoth cries out like never before. He dives towards Thoth and snakes his arm under the crook of Thoth’s knees, tugging tightly with an agonizing roll-up as Thoth cries out!

“Yes! Thoth blew it, Wilson’s got him—first elimination!”

ONE!

TWO!

THR—and Thoth throws his arm up, barely getting it high enough to break the count before Wilson shoves it back down again!

ONE!

TWO!—and Thoth’s get the shoulder up again, faster this time, freeing his arm and taking a swipe at Wilson’s eyes—no, the eye rake misses, and Wilson responds with a fist to the face and another tight cradle!

ONE!

TWO!

TH—and finally Thoth explodes with a kick-out, shaking Wilson off and giving him the chance to crawl away! “A lot of damage and a close call for Thoth…but if I were the Balancer,” suggests Stevens, “I’d be more worried about later on. A cradle piledriver like Riot of the Blood requires a full drop to the knees, and that’s gonna be trouble!” Wilson rises to his own significantly less smooshed knees, pounding the mat with his fist and yelling at the referee for his obviously slow count, when suddenly a cheer rises up! Wilson turns—no, he’s not fast enough, and the recovered world champ MacPhisto drives a seated dropkick right into the manipulator’s spine! Wilson lurches forward and Edwin quickly pulls him up in a rear chinlock before sliding his arms down and cinching a rear waistlock!

“He can’t lift Wilson!” whines Riley.

“He’s done it before,” shouts Stevens as Edwin steadies himself. The crowd roars, and Edwin lifts… “And he’ll do it again!”

WHAM!

The Mac Daddy drives Chris Wilson down to the mat with a ring-shaking German suplex! Edwin tries to hold the bridge, but that’s where Wilson’s extra weight becomes troublesome: the champion is unable to keep him in place, and Wilson falls away safely. Edwin is back on his feet fast, however, but before moving forward, he shoots a glance towards Thoth, who’s working out the kinks in his damaged knees. Edwin turns back to Wilson and takes him into a facelock. He calls for the DDT, but Wilson shoves forward aggressively, knocking Edwin back. Wilson gets ready to rush with a clothesline, but Edwin surprises him by taking the initiative and charging forward with his own! Quick on his feet, Wilson ducks the incoming arm, and as Edwin turns, the manipulator throws his hands up instinctively, catches neck, and leaps forward—

“BANG!” hollers Riley. “Diamond cutter!” The crowd boos as Wilson hits the fluid maneuver, snapping Edwin’s face across his shoulder. He rolls over for the cover, and the ref dives in…

ONE!

TWO—and there’s the kickout! “Edwin’s still got a lot of fight in him—Wilson looks to be getting the best of this battle,” notes Stevens, “but Thoth seems to be worst off presently.” The Balancer is presently staggering out of the corner slowly, testing his knees as Wilson pulls Edwin up by the hair, straight into a knee-lift. Edwin doubles over, and Wilson quickly settles into a standing headscissors, generating a big buzz of negativity from the fans.

“Wilson’s setting up for a piledriver!” coos Riley, oh-so-satisfied. Wilson gets ready to jump, but before he can crunch Edwin, he sees Thoth staggering across the ring towards him with tenacity. Wilson is distracted…and flying over Edwin’s head, as the Mac Daddy reverses out of the piledriver with a big backdrop! Wilson springs back to his feet angrily and rushes Edwin, but he sidesteps, leaving Wilson to bang into the ropes, rebound, and walk right into a blistering shotei! The crowd hoots and hollers as Wilson wobbles, stunned, and Edwin fires another one, knocking Wilson flush against the ropes! Edwin charges one more time, this time raising his arm…and clotheslining Chris Wilson clear over the top rope! Wilson bounces off the apron and falls to the outside, and the fans give a cheer as the ring has been officially cleared of bastard!

“MAC-PHIST-OOOOO!

MAC-PHIST-OOOOO!”

“Thoth drew Wilson’s attention just long enough for Edwin to get out of that situation,” says Stevens, “but now he’s got to deal with Thoth himself!” Edwin turns to find Thoth right in his face, grinning. Edwin grins back as the crowd roars for the showdown…and then immediately throws a punch, only to be blocked by Thoth…and countered with a sharp thrust uppercut! Thoth connects with a second thrust uppercut to the jaw, staggering Edwin, throws a third, but the Mac Daddy ducks to the side. He rushes Thoth and raises a knee, but Thoth dodges to the side, leaving Edwin to run chest first into the ropes. Edwin comes off into a back roll, floating back to his feet…just in time to eat a blazing left hook.

Edwin stumbles back and Thoth flies forward with blazing jabs, pushing Edwin back a little bit with every shot. “Thoth’s relying on punches here, where he’d usually work in some kicks, but those knees can’t be feeling well.” Figuring that out for himself, Edwin eats another thick jab to the ribs before stepping through the punch and firing a snap kick into Thoth’s right knee, drawing a cry of pain from the Balancer. The crowd offers up a mixed cheer as Edwin pops another sharp kick into Thoth’s leg, then one into the left leg, and then a second for symmetry’s sake. Thoth bends slightly, clutching his knees, and Edwin backs up for a moment and makes a little camera box for Thoth’s head. The Mac Daddy and leaps, flipping and kicking with a big enzuigiri…and Thoth ducks! Edwin’s foot sails over his head and he lands on his feet, turns to a big cheer—

CRACK!

--and eats a ferocious superkick! “Wow! What a move! Thoth literally thought on his feet for that one—what an amazing angle for that kick!” shouts Stevens. Edwin falls backwards clutching his jaw and the crowd goes wild for Thoth’s amazing counterattack, but the reaction soon dims as Thoth’s renewed pain becomes evident.

“Idiot!” cries Riley. “Thoth acted on instinct, not wits, and he just launched one of his bad legs into a stiff target! Dope!” The Balancer grits his teeth and shakes it off, walking towards Edwin, who lays on his back. Thoth bends over…and Edwin’s eyes open, and as the Mac Daddy kips up, Thoth realizes his mistake.

“Kip-up DDT!” shouts Stevens, and the crowd gives a raucous cheer as Edwin flows up off the mat into a front facelock, then immediately back down again, stunning Thoth with a smooth DDT! Edwin sits up for a moment, smirking as he shakes his head out, and then drapes himself across Thoth for the cover! “Big stun off that surprise shot—can Edwin eliminate one of the contenders?”

ONE!

TWO!—no, Thoth gets the shoulder up, breathing heavily but still in it!

“Edwin should have hooked the leg,” points out Riley. “Thoth’s weak knees might have been enough to seal it.” The Crown Prince of Flash and Panache sits up, realizing that his mistake and softly cursing himself. He pulls Thoth up and looks around…no Wilson, good. Edwin drives an elbow into Thoth’s chest, then another, straightening him up. He quickly threads a one-arm headlock, takes two running steps forward and spins into a sit-out position, driving Thoth’s face down over his knees with a wicked bulldog!

“Midnight Special from Edwin MacPhisto, relatively unopposed—that kip-up DDT really took a lot out of Thoth,” notes Stevens. Edwin covers Thoth again, hooking the leg this time…

ONE!

TWO!

TH—and Thoth kicks out! Edwin pulls Thoth up and drives a short shotei into Thoth’s chest, leaving him standing dazed in the center of the ring as he himself backpedals swiftly to the ropes, getting ready for a running dropkick…when the hands of Chris Wilson shoot up from the apron and trip him up! The boos are deafening!

“There he is! I was wondering where Chrissy went!” beams Riley.

“Damn that Wilson, ruining a perfectly good sequence! He’s probably all well-rested too from his extended stay on the outside! The ref was too busy counting pinfalls to keep an eye on him!” The alternating “MAC-PHIST-OOOOO” and “THOTH-THOTH-THOTH” chants give way to a dominating “WILSON SUH-UCKS” cry as the M7 mastermind yanks Edwin under the bottom rope! Edwin lands awkwardly but on his feet, turns…

…and finds Wilson’s arm across his chest.

Uh-oh.

WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAM!

…

BOOOOOOOOOOO!

“Good lord!”

“Last Resort! Last Resort!” screams Riley. “Wilson just hit the Last Resort on Edwin MacPhisto, right onto the concrete!”

“That came out of nowhere!” shouts Stevens. “Finisher on the outside…the champ has got to be hurting. This is a huge opportunity for Chris Wilson…” Wilson’s stiff downward spiral legsweep leaves Edwin laying in a heap outside the ring, and he rises, pointing to fallen Edwin and shouting some choice words at the front-row fans before hoisting Edwin up, sliding him into the ring…and eating a baseball slide dropkick from Thoth! The Balancer’s boots take Wilson in the jaw, and Edwin tumbles back out of the ring. Wilson comes back around, but this time walks right into Thoth’s hands as the Clansman reaches over the top rope! The crowd roars wildly as Thoth drags Wilson up onto the apron, then snapmares him over the top and back into the ring! Wilson lands seated, and Thoth rushes at him from behind, modifying his usual knee-to-the-head into a running elbow. It connects, and Wilson lolls forward with a loud crack before Thoth pulls him back up. “Balancer going for a Northern Light suplex,” calls Stevens as Thoth hooks Wilson from the front, but just as Thoth starts to lift, Wilson bears down on his left foot and launches his right firmly into Thoth’s knee!

“Attaboy Wilson! Get Thoth where it hurts!” The crowd boos as Thoth breaks off, and Wilson quickly gets the go behind, swooping around the Balancer and snaking his left arm into a half-nelson! “Wilson’s setting up for the Platinum Nightmare!” Thoth knows this, and he throws his right elbow back to break…but Wilson ducks, shoot his right hand up, and completes the full nelson! The entire arena rallies behind Thoth as Wilson hooks his leg—no, Thoth stomps back, blocking the hook! Wilson tries to push forward without the hook, but Thoth puts up too much resistance!

“Thoth’s got the Nightmare scouted—and blocked!” shouts Stevens. Frustrated, Wilson pushes one more time, gets nowhere…and suddenly dives out to the side, keeping the hold locked and grounding Thoth with a full-nelson takedown!

“FINISHING TOUCHES!” cries Riley. “Thoth passed out last time, Wilson just has to lock it on!” The fans are stomping their feet as Wilson threads the hold into a double STF…and the instant he hits it, Thoth lets out a low growl and shoves his entire body weight onto his legs, pushing…and flipping over, facing the arena lights with Wilson beneath him!

“Thoth reversed out! Thoth wasn’t staying in there this time—AND HE’S BRIDING FOR THE PIN! WILSON’S SHOULDERS ARE DOWN!” The crowd goes nuts and Wilson thrashes wildly as the ref drops to count the unorthodox pin!

“NO NO NO!”

ONE!

“NO NO NO!”

TWO!

“NOOOOO!”

THR—AND WILSON GETS THE SHOULDER UP, SHOVING THOTH AWAY…but not before wrapping his own legs around Thoth’s tangled mass with a scissors! “Wilson barely escapes, but he’s got Thoth’s legs—oh, no!” cries Stevens! Wilson briefly rises off the mat and quickly laces Thoth’s legs into the classic four shape before falling back down and rocking violently!

“Figure-four leglock! Thoth’s going to tap two shows in a row!” shouts Riley. “No one’s ever made Thoth do that!” The Balancer screams out in pain, barely overcoming the thunderous boos of the crowd as Wilson torques on his damaged knees.

“Tap, you piece of shit! Tap like you did last time!” The ring mics pick up Wilson’s taunts, and the ref gets down in Thoth’s face, begging him to give up, but the Clansman grits his teeth, closes his eyes, and is silent…

…as he plants his knees, grinding through the pain…

…rolling, his palms down on the mat! The crowd gets loud again…

“He’s doing it! I can’t believe it!”

…and with one final roaring twist, Thoth turns the figure-four over and puts the pressure on Wilson’s leg! “REVERSAL! THOTH REVERSED THE FIGURE-FOUR!” Wilson’s in agonizing pain, inches away from tapping…when Thoth suddenly relents, crying out in pain and grasping at his knees!

“Ha! Those knees again! Thoth turned it over, but even in the dominant position the pressure was too much for him to bear!” Wilson pulls away from Thoth’s form, gasping and sighing with relief at his good fortune. The manipulator is the first one to his feet, and after one more violent stomp to the kneecaps, he grabs Thoth by his red hair and yanks him off the canvas, raising one fist high before lacing the battered Balancer’s arms into a full-nelson one more time…all the while, totally oblivious to the mounting cheers of the crowd. “Platinum Nightmare—and Thoth can’t stop him this time!” Thoth’s too weak to kick backward, and Wilson hooks the leg…

…but now, the cheers are too loud to ignore.

“Guess who’s back, Wilson!” shouts Stevens, and the crowd explodes as Edwin MacPhisto drives a blazing elbow into the back of his nemesis’s neck, stunning him and forcing him to release Thoth! Wilson spins to face Edwin, snarling…and gets his clocked clean with a savage slap across the right cheek!

“WHOO!” goes the crowd, and Edwin fires another across the left!

“WHOO!” Wilson staggers forward in a rage…

…and finds Edwin’s arm thrown across his chest.

“Holy shit, he wouldn’t!”

WHAM! And Edwin MacPhisto rocks Chris Wilson into the mat with the Last Resort! The crowd explodes! “Payback’s a bitch, Chrissy!” roars Stevens, and the crowd is going absolutely insane as Edwin climbs to his feet, dragging the limp Wilson behind him…and seeing Thoth.

Thoth beckons with his hand…and Edwin gives him what he wants.

Edwin throws Chris Wilson forward, right into the grasp of the Balancer! Thoth pulls Wilson straight into a standing headscissors! “No! This can’t be happening!”

“It is, Bobby! Wilson can handle these men on their own, but can’t keep up with both of them—Riot of the Blood!” The crowd is rabid as Thoth lifts Wilson up, straining to get him into piledriver position…and successfully cradling Wilson’s right leg against his chest in position for the tombstone! “Here we go!” But Wilson starts to shake his free left leg, and Thoth’s grip is slipping!

“Wilson’s getting out--”

“No, he’s not Bobby! LOOK!” And Edwin MacPhisto charges up…AND SEIZES THE FREE LEG! “EDWIN’S GOT HIM—THOTH AND EDWIN HAVE WILSON IN THE RIOT OF THE BLOOD!”

Thoth and Edwin lock eyes…and grin.

That, ladies and gentlemen, is the biggest pop of the night.

WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAM! Both men fall to their knees, drilling Chris Wilson into the mat headfirst with a spiked cradle piledriver! Thoth cries out as the impact hits his knees, and Edwin rolls away, taking this chance to recover. “No! Kick out, Wilson, kick out, kick out!” screams Riley, and the ref gets ready, watching closely as Thoth inches forward, reaching his arm out, hanging over Wilson…

…and draping it across his chest!

The entire crowd counts along!

“ONNNNNNNNNNNNE!”

Thoth grits his teeth…

“TWOOOOOOOOOO!”

Wilson doesn’t move…

…

“THREEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!”

The ref calls for the bell, and the Nassau Coliseum erupts!

“The first man eliminated, by pinfall,” bellows Funyon, “Chris Willllllson!”

“They did it! Edwin and Thoth just eliminated Chris Wilson, their mortal enemy, and Thoth has his revenge from Smarkdown! We’re down to two men—it’s Thoth and MacPhisto for the world title, and it is on right now!” The referee rolls the limp Wilson out of the ring, and two more officials come out from the back to haul Wilson backstage! “I don’t think Chris Wilson even knows what hit him, but that doesn’t matter right now—it’s the Crown Prince and the Balancer for the biggest prize in the game!” Edwin, having gotten a brief rest while Thoth scored the pinfall, is the first to his feet, and he pauses in the corner, waits for the Balancer to rise…and then bursts forward out of the corner with a huge tackle! Thoth goes down hard, and Edwin lays into him with punches, drawing a big cheer from the fans! “Edwin’s doing anything and everything to hold onto that belt—he and Thoth have traded victories in the past, and he won’t take this challenge lightly!”

The barrage only lasts a few seconds, as Thoth quickly powers off the mat and reverses, slamming away with mounted punches of his own until Edwin works up enough strength to throw him off! Thoth and Edwin both charge up their feet…and collide in a collar-and-elbow lock-up, a big test of strength! “Edwin’s got the leverage…but Thoth’s got the desire, and he is overpowering the champ!” Thoth’s immense forward push forces Edwin back into the corner, and the Balancer starts to unload with knife edge chops and eye rakes, taking Edwin apart! Battered and bruised, Edwin starts to collapse…and Thoth hooks him in a belly-to-belly waistlock, vaulting him up and out of the corner with a picture-perfect Northern Lights suplex!

“Come on Thoth! Wilson’s down! You’re kind of evil! Win that title!” The Balancer heeds Riley’s words and dives to tightly hook the leg, and the crowd is on edge as the ref dives…

ONE!

TWO!

THR—and Edwin kicks out forcibly! Running on pure adrenaline, Thoth wastes no time and picks Edwin up for an irish whip—no, Edwin reverses, and Thoth rebounds off the ropes with a crossbody splash…that Edwin catches, floating Thoth right down over his knee with a tilt-a-whirl backbreaker! “Great counter from the champ—these two are giving everything they’ve got!” Thoth slides off Edwin’s knee…and the champ covers!

ONE!

TWOOO!

THR—Thoth gets the shoulder up! Edwin immediately pulls Thoth up…and eats an eye rake! The crowd can’t decide to boo or cheer, and they settle on a wild mixture as Thoth pulls Edwin in, grabbing his neck for a reverse Ace Crusher…but Edwin throws an elbow, twists out, and gets HIS hands on Thoth’s neck, then takes mad dash for the nearest turnbuckle! The crowd explodes as Edwin hops one, two, three ropes, and kicks off!

“SPINAL TAP!” cries Stevens, and a “MAC-PHIST-OOOOO!” chant rises as Edwin and Thoth drift out towards the center of the ring—

CRUNCH.

“HE HIT IT! HE HIT THE SPINAL TAP OUT OF THE BLUE! THOTH AIN’T MOVING, FOLKS!” shouts Stevens, and the crowd gives a standing ovation for the Balancer’s fight! Edwin hooks the leg, grinning with satisfaction as the ref drops to the mat!

ONE!

TWO!

THREEEEEEEEEEENO! THOTH KICKS OUT!

“THOTH KICKED OUT! I can’t believe it!” cries Stevens, and neither can Edwin! The Mac Daddy is in shock, but rather than dawdle on the crowd’s “S-W-F” chants, he pulls Thoth up, elbows him in the face…and scores a back-to-back armlock!

“No! No! I thought we were finished with this move!”

“Guess not, Bobby—Encore Crooooooss!” Edwin preps his old finisher, bends at the knees, and powers forward with the spike backslide—no.

No, he doesn’t.

Thoth plants his feet, and in a reversal that will go down in history books, HE vaults forward, floating Edwin over his back…and straight into position for the cradle tombstone piledriver! “REVERSAL! OH MY GOD, THE RIOT OF THE BLOOD! THOTH HAS HIM! THOTH HAS EDWIN’S LEG CRADLED—AND HERE HE GOES!”

The Balancer looks out to the fans…and he is content.

Thoth leaps…and crushes Edwin’s head into the mat with the Riot of the Blood!

“New champion! New champion!”

“No, Mark! Look!” Thoth curls up in a ball, crying out, screaming…and clutching at his knees! “Edwin’s gone, but Thoth took the full force of the piledriver on his damaged knees! He has to cover, and he has to cover fast!” 5, 10 seconds pass and Thoth starts to crawl across the mat, knowing what he has to do…crawling over Edwin…and finally hooking his leg as tightly as he can! The ref drops down!

ONE!

TWO!

THREEEEEEEE—AND EDWIN MACPHISTO KICKS OUT! THE ARENA GOES NUTS! “BOTH MEN HAVE KICKED OUT OF EACH OTHER’S FINISHERS!” cries Stevens. “What’s it going to take?”

“Thoth would have had that if he didn’t delay!” cries Riley. In the ring, Thoth knows this, and he is cursing himself as he rises to his feet. He knows he can’t take another Riot…and so he goes to the only place that seems right.

The top rope.

“He’s going up! Thoth is going up!” shouts Stevens. “The Riot of the Blood failed, but Thoth can hit the Scum Gale facebuster—much less of an impact on his damaged legs and one hell of a move!” Thoth waits atop the turnbuckle, facing the crowd, checking behind him for Edwin to rise…but on the mat, Edwin is awake, just not moving. “Edwin’s not going anywhere—he knows that Thoth has to get him standing to hit the Scum Gale, and he won’t go!” The crowd is electric with anticipation…and as Edwin holds out another 10 seconds, Thoth gets frustrated and steps his right leg down onto the middle buckle…and Edwin makes his move, suddenly bolting off the canvas to a huge pop and rushing the corner! Thoth turns and tries to scramble back to Scum Gale position, but Edwin’s too fast—he leaps to the second rope and crashes into Thoth, nearly knocking him off the top! The Balancer stumbles and turns, grabbing Edwin’s hair for balance…and the Mac Daddy shoves his way onto the top rope with Thoth!

“They’re both gonna die, Mark! I can’t watch!” The crowd is roaring as Edwin and Thoth stare at each other…and Thoth throws a punch into Edwin’s chest! He nearly falls back…but retaliates with his own, almost sending Thoth off! The Balancer, tired, beaten, shoots another punch…right into Edwin’s jaw!

CRACK!

And another!

CRACK!

“Edwin’s gonna fall!”

And another—THAT EDWIN CATCHES! Edwin immediately tugs on the offending arm as Thoth’s eyes widen, and the Balancer is yanked down into a front facelock as Edwin uses his other arm to grab Thoth’s waistline! Edwin lets out a roar…and powers up, pulling Thoth ever so slightly off the turnbuckle…and finally up into vertical suplex position!

“AIR MACPHISTO! We haven’t seen this in forever, Riley!”

“Edwin’s battered—can he even hit this in the state he’s in?!?!”

The Mac Daddy holds Thoth high, and flashbulbs erupt as the Balancer thrashes, fighting as hard as he can. Thoth starts to break loose…and Edwin decides.

It’s all or nothing.

He jumps.

“HERE WE GO!” The crowd gasps as Edwin turns, swinging Thoth down…

…down…

…AND CRUSHING HIM INTO THE CENTER OF THE RING WITH A DEVASTATING TOP-ROPE FALCON ARROW!

“THAT’S IT! THAT’S IT!” cries Stevens! “Thoth is broken in two! Edwin can’t be much better…and here it is! Edwin’s got the leg!” The champion hooks the leg, closes his eyes, and waits for the count…

ONNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNE!

TWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

…

THREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!

The ref calls for the bell, and it sounds out to a huge crowd pop!

“He did it! He did it! The champ retains!” “Battleflag” bumps through the arena, and the ref raises Edwin’s hand high!

“Your winner, and STILL World Heavyweight Champion…Edwin MacPhistOOOOO!”

The champ takes his title belt back and gives it a big smooch, then raises it high to a big crowd pop!

“Folks, we have been to the limit and back—Thoth gave it everything he had, but Edwin had just a little more tonight, pulling out the most impressive title defense of his reign! Chris Wilson went out early thanks to the combined efforts of the Clan and Carnival, but you can bet he’ll be looking for revenge…my god, what a match! We’re out of time, but for Bobby Riley, Ben Hardy, and the whole crew, this is Mark Stevens, signing off! God-damn, Bobby—what a show!”

The fans are overjoyed as Edwin stands tall, gasping for air, barely making it out this time…

…while backstage, just behind the entrance curtain, Chris Wilson simmers.

“This…isn’t…over.”

August 10, 2002

As the main event fades to a black, the Smarkstron lights up again, and the viewers find themselves staring at the front door of the Commissioner's office. The camera sneaks in to find a dimly lit room, JD, Lerrin, and Stubby McWeed all surround a television set. Upon closer inspection, the tape shows a figure, walking towards the exit with a duffel bag. But that is not what concerns the Commissioner, no, it's what inside the duffel bag that interests him. As the tape continues to play, a smaller bag drops out from the poorly secured duffel, and is revealed to be the bag of weed which has been stolen from Stubby.

"Who is this fool?" Stubby asks with a tone. He rewinds the tape, and plays it again, but the lights and the color of the tape block the face off.

The rest of the CC members stare around, but can't find the courage to answer their boss. Stubby sits, and watches on as he rewinds the tape and plays it again.

"Sorry bossman, the tape is too blurr-"

Stubby raises a hand and stops JD from going on any further. He pauses the tape and points at the hand of the figure. Two letters have been inscribed on the wristband circling the wrist, and Stubby begins an attempt to make out the letters.

"What is it?" Lerrin asks. The members of the Creative Control look even closer, but still can't manage to word out the two letters. All except Stubby McWeed. He sits back in his leather chair, and curses under his breath.

"Who is it?" JD wonders. "Stubby?"

Stubby points to the door, signaling for them to leave. JD and Lerrin head out the door but Stubby stops Lerrin, "Not you, big man. I got a job for you."

"Yes?"

"I want you to take out this bitch. Nobody does this to McWeed."

"Okay, but who is it? Did you make out the letters?"

"Yes, I did. It's very surprising, actually. I never expected this from him."

"Uh, who?"

Stubby pauses.....

.......

"The letters are 'E' and 'T', and it stands for Erek Taylor."

August 10, 2002

STRAP MATCH

Silent vs. Chris Raynor

- He's Silent and not-so-deadly...Raynor with the win! Although, Silent was just "pretending" to lose. Suuure...I've used that line myself.

SINGLES MATCH

Tod deKindes vs. Frost

- My sources say Tod deKindes is in hospital with a severe case of freezer burn after losing this match.

HARDCORE TITLE MATCH

- How does someone so crappy keep winning?

SINGLES MATCH

Renegade vs. Sacred

- Sacred takes a left-turn and exits jobberville.

TAG MATCH

Erek Taylor & Longdogger Pete vs. The Boston Strangler & Danny Williams

- The evil guys won. The evil guys always win.

US TITLE MATCH

- TNT's epic US title reign came to an end tonight...

SINGLES MATCH

Annie Eclectic vs. Lerrin Breggan

- Girls smell and have cooties! CC members are cool!

3-WAY ELMINATION MATCH FOR THE SWF HEAVYWEIGHT TITLE

- Read it punks.

Oh...and don't forget the many promos on this show. Returns, storyline and character development up the wazoo!

SWF Storm (August 9/2002)

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