SWF Smarkdown (August 12/2002)

[Guest BA_Baracus]

Lights…

 

Camera…

 

ACTION!

 

SWF Smarkdown explodes onto the television sets up viewers everywhere, the Resch Center rumbling as the theme song pumps and pyro begins to go off.

 

BOOM!

 

BOOM!

 

BOOM!

 

“WELCOME TO SMARKDOWN!” screams Mark Stevens as the camera scans the crowd too quickly to pick out anything in particular. “We’re coming off an absolutely awesome Storm, where Edwin retained his title, Perfect Bo rejoined Creative Control and Erek Taylor stole Stubby’s weed!”

 

“And we’re going to keep that momentum going,” assures Riley. “ICTV and tag team championship matches tonight, plus Bo and Ash’s return to action-“

 

Riley shuts up as the action cuts to the back, where Sarah Leavenworth stands outside a locker room door, bottle of champagne and two thinly stemmed glasses in her hands. The crowd cheers wildly for the first appearance of an SWF superstar, and a particularly loved one at that, but the cheers turn to boos as the camera scans up to the plate on the locker room.

 

“M7”

 

Sarah takes a deep breath and pushes her way in, the camera following. Inside sits Chris Wilson, pulling on his trench coat and unzipping his Oakley vault sunglass case. The booing gets louder and Wilson looks up at Sarah, who smiles sweetly and sits the bottle and glasses down.

 

“Sarah! Hey honey!”

 

“Hello, Chris. How are things?”

 

Wilson sits his sunglasses back down and steps back, looking up and down Sarah as she stares at him, charms going on full blow.

 

“Could be better, if I was, you know, World Champion. But things just perked up.”

 

Sarah ignores the thinly veiled line. “I just haven’t got to talk to you since I came back, and wanted to catch on old times. Kidnapping, torture, brainwashing. Good times, you know?”

 

Wilson gets a frown on his face. “That’s in the past, sweetie. You’re seeing the new Chris Wilson. The perfectly sane one who would never do anything to a beautiful, attractive, luscious-“

 

Sarah cuts him off and pushes him back towards the couch, forcing him down and putting a knee on either side.

 

“Enough small talk.”

 

Wilson’s in shock. “Want to get straight down to business?”

 

Sarah’s smile becomes slightly devilish as she wraps her arms around the back of Wilson’s neck. “You bet, but you just have to me one itty, bitty little favor first.”

 

Wilson’s in the palm of her hand. “For you? Anything, dear.”

 

Sarah presses her forehead up against Wilson. “Fight Pete. Just one wittle match. Nothing big, just a little exhibition.”

 

Wilson stands up and tosses Sarah down onto the couch. “Nice try, honey, but it’s not going to happen. Besides, you weren’t that good anyway.”

 

Sarah’s face turns sour. “Fuck you, Wilson,” she snarls with contempt for the evil genius. “One match.”

 

Wilson smiles as he stands at the mirror, putting his sunglasses on and looking over himself. “It’s the whole principal of the thing. If I start handing out matches to bums like LDP and messing around with tramps like you my phone would never stop ringing and girls would never stop walking up to my car at intersections.”

 

“Pussy. You’re scared. You’re lucky I’m not active, or you’d be a dead man for the stuff you pulled.”

 

Wilson grabs the champagne and glasses and turns to Sarah, who’s leaning on one arm on the couch, staring up at him. “I’m sure you would, darlin’, but right now daddy has some business to take care of. The grown ups are going to talk now, so you go and tell your X Force 9 pals, especially that washed up bum Pete, that he can just wait a while longer.”

 

Wilson walks out of the room, and the camera stays on Sarah for a moment. She collapses back onto the couch, kneading her forehead then:

 

Light bulb.

 

She sits up and spins around on the couch, a big smile coming over her face as she smiles genuinely, happy with whatever she juts thought up as we cut back to ringside.

 

“An awkward series of events there-“

 

“Ah…..ah….ah………….Ah…….ah….ah…………”

 

Stevens is interrupted by soft cooing, as the arena lights cut out and fog slowly starts to roll. A few moments later, the St. Lunatics start up.

 

“I am the king of this city, top down, windows up, puffin’ like Diddy…”

 

The crowd continues to boo as Chris Wilson walks down the ramp, decked out in black as his trench coat swirls about him. He has a confident grin on his face and a bottle of bubbly along with two glasses in his hand. He walks up the steps into the ring and sets the wine glasses down, catching a mike from Funyon with his free hand.

 

“Oh, first off, can we cut the feed from their headsets?” asks Wilson, pointing at Stevens and Riley. “I don’t want you viewers at home having to deal with them blabbering while I speak.”

 

“Don’t worry, folks,” promises Stevens. “Wilson definitely cannot do-“

 

Stevens continues to talk, but slowly realizes what’s happening while Riley starts to laugh hysterically at his partner, who has a hateful frown on his face, while Wilson sees this and nods.

 

Nice work boys, so let’s move right on: Good evening, Green Bay!”

 

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

 

Wilson’s not disappointed. “That’s not the reaction I like to hear for the man who should be World Champion. Yes, that’s right. It took some intense double-teaming and very unsportsman-like conduct to take me out of the match on Storm. Honestly, I was the better man. But it took two, TWO, men and a damned piledriver to beat me. How unfair is that? It just shows that Edwin can’t beat me. A freaking roll up and now he’s forced to double team me with a Clannie to eliminate me? Come on, people! Not fair!”

 

The crowd boos ever louder as Wilson pleads for their support. “Nevertheless, I’m not going to go down as a sore loser,” lies Wilson through his teeth. “So Edwin MacPhisto, come down here and I’m going to offer a toast to celebrate your big win! Don’t be shy, as there are no caned-Clansman under the ring. No boogey men. Scout’s honor.”

 

There’s a brief pause-

 

“I said hallelujah…”

 

The crowd explodes as the Resch Center is turned into a medium for a light and sound show as the SWF Heavyweight and Tag team champion appears at the top of the ramp. He looks at Wilson with a mix of anger and confusion, before walking down, surrounded by thousands of adoring fans. He walks around the ring, eyeing an innocent looking Wilson the entire time, and grabs another mike before beginning to scale the steps…

 

“Now Chrissy, I don’t think they had a Terrorism or Manipulation merit badge, so your scout’s honor doesn’t really mean a whole lot.” Edwin steps into the ring as the crowd continues to cheer him wildly. “But considering these people don’t deserve to have you taking up their time and stalling, I’ll oblige you so you can get on your merry way to a Clan beating later tonight.”

 

Wilson nods and smiles. “Oh yes, brave and chivalrous knight. Always doing the good for the people.” Wilson gets right up in Edwin’s face, the smile disappearing.

 

“Then tell me,” he rasps. “Why can’t you beat me clean?”

 

Edwin thinly smiles, eyes shut to avoid any saliva projections by Wilson, and he spins away. “I believe I’ve beaten you clean twice now. A roll up and with help from another legal man in a three-way match. Not seeing the intense evil there.”

 

“Bull shit!” yells Wilson. “You’ve screwed me twice! TWICE! When we go at it in a controlled environment, I dominate! You can’t beat me, and you know it! And since nobody else has proven themselves over me, I think I deserve a little something.”

 

"All right, Chrissy boy," smirks Edwin. "What's that? Maybe a gift certificate for a free massage? A nice dinner out with TNT and Frost where you all can drink cheap wine, cry about losing together, and sing 'Farewell and Adieu to You Dear Spanish Ladies' till you burst?"

 

Wilson rubs his chin, staring up into oblivion. Wilson rubs his chin, staring up into oblivion. “All those are just lovely plans, Edwin...but, oh, wait, I've got something entirely better, jack-ass." The crowd is simmering now...

 

“Wait, how about an SWF Title match at Apocalypse? Ah, yes. That sounds peachy-farging-keen.”

 

The crowd buzzes in anticipation of Edwin’s answer. The MacDaddy walks around the ring for a few seconds that seems like an eternity before dropping his answer abruptly:

 

“No.”

 

Wilson flips out, waving the bottle around. “Why?! You’re scared of me, you stupid bastard!”

 

Edwin shakes his head. “Hardly, my friend, but I grow tired of beating you over and over and over and over, etc, etc, again. There’s plenty of young blood and people who deserve a shot over you in the WF. How about Thoth? Doesn’t seem to me he got eliminated first.”

 

“Doesn’t seem to me he could beat me last Monday, now does it?” A sudden wave of calm washes over Wilson. Edwin raises an eyebrow, knowing something is up.

 

“Well, that’s just fine,” is all he offers. “I didn’t want to do this, but obviously I have too.”

 

Wilson walks to the rope closest the ramp. “Edwin, you know how you accepted my little truce? Carnies don’t attack me, the Magnificent Seven don’t attack you?”

 

“Yes…”

 

Wilson swings his arm in an “Aw, shucks” motion and looks down. “Well, the thing is, and I didn’t bring this up specifically, and that’s my bad, but:”

 

Wilson snaps his head back up, delirium creeping into his eyes. “Well, that had nothing to do with the Magnificent Seven plain out attacking the other Carnies.”

 

A surprised look crosses Edwin’s face as he looks at Wilson, then up to the stage.

 

The stage where Frost walks out, carrying Chris Raynor on his shoulder. Blood flows from the Carnie’s head. TNT follows suit, dragging Z along while The Boston Strangler carries Magnifico like his new bride and lays him down onto the ramp. Edwin stares at all four men, rage starting to overtake him.

 

“What the hell is this? The whole point was to leave them out of this.”

 

Wilson’s head tilts to the side and it looks like he’s seeing Edwin for the very first time. “No, my odd little friend. What that did was protect me…”

 

Wilson points at Edwin, his head snapping upright.

 

“…and you.”

 

The crowd starts to boo at Wilson’s accusation, but he cuts them off. “Shut up and listen! Your hero here, he sold out his friends! But that can’t be what happened, can it? Because Edwin’s an honorable man.”

 

“But it’s true. My boys knew they were still at war with the Carnies, they just couldn’t touch you. Well, that still leaves some really juicy targets. And you knew it would, but you still accepted my offer. You threw your friends to the wolves so you didn’t have to worry about the Magnificent Seven-“

 

“It’s nothing like that, and you know it! Quit twisting the truth, you sick bastard!”

 

Wilson stares at Edwin. “No, why don’t you let everyone know the truth? The truth that you’re too afraid to face me, so you offered them up. Well, I’m accepting the offer and now you’re on the spot. It’s really up to you Edwin. You can either grant me my match,” he points up to the stage where three very sadistic men stand smiling, “or I’m going to instruct my good friends up there to toss your pals off the stage. That would make it a rough night for Carnival tag action, why with only one out of four able to walk.”

 

Edwin stares at Wilson. “Why did you have to do this?”

 

Wilson twirls away, head snapped back as he laughs maniacally, arms outstretched. He slowly stops, still staring at the ceiling, and brings the mike to his lips. “Because…I’m…the…bad…guy.” His head pivots back down and he returns Edwin’s dirty looks. “I do stuff like this. You knew that when you made the pact, and don’t pretend you didn’t! Well, it caught up with your real quick like, and it’s decision time. Luckily, it’s just a multiple choice with two answers.”

 

“You’ve got your match,” concedes Edwin with little hesitation, “but it’s going to be a wrestling match, nothing fancy. Now let them-“

 

Edwin stops talking as he sees Wilson shaking his head. “No no no no no. I don’t want that. I want something different. I enjoyed WarGames, and I think we should do something like that. How about…”

 

Wilson ponders his choices a moment.

 

“Stairway to Hell? No, no…that’s just a tad bit too much…”

 

The crowd breaks into loud cries of “PAAAAAAANDA!” with the mention of the barbed wire ladder match.

 

“Yes, I’d bloody hope so.”

 

“Buried Alive? No, I don’t like the whole getting dirty thing. First Blood? Please, that would just be short, and I want your pain to get drug out a little bit.”

 

“Or yours, my friend.”

 

Wilson snorts. “Not casket. No more cages or submission matches, as we all know who will win there. We're doing‘I Quit’ tonight. I’m not really in the mood for anything with a strap or rope or chain…Oh, I know now…”

 

Wilson stares at Edwin, a sinister smile slithering across his face. “How about a simple, bloody, brutal No Holds Barred match?”

 

“Are you crazy? No way-“

 

“Gentlemen?”

 

Frost takes a step towards the edge of the stage but Edwin waves him off.

 

“Fine, fine. You’ve got your match. You and me, No Holds Barred at Apocalypse for the SWF Title. But it’s going to be no interference, by anybody. That’s non-negotiable. It’s not going to turn into seven-on-one when you break your little promise and shaft me over.”

 

Wilson curls his lip up into a half-smile. “You don’t really seem to be in a position to be making demands, buuuuuut…okay. I can handle that. No Holds Barred. No inteference. Chris Wilson. Edwin MacPhisto. SWF Title. Apocalypse. We’ll get a lovely little contract written up and it will be an absolute blast! I’m near giddy.” Wilson grabs the neck of the bottle with the same hand as the mike and extends his other. “Thanks for making this so easy, ol’ buddy, ol’ pal.”

 

Edwin walks right past him. “Whatever. Now let them-“

 

SMASH!

 

Edwin drops hard to the mat as Wilson bashes him across the side of the head with Sarah’s champagne bottle.

 

“You stupid son of a bitch! Come Apocalypse, your title, your career, your stable, your friends, your life…everything. It’s all going to be mine!”

 

Wilson drops the mike with a thud and extracts a long strand of piano wire from his pocket. He wraps it around a wet and bleeding Edwin’s throat a few times before beginning to wrench back.

 

“-and he wasn’t even that good in bed. Honestly.”

 

“Um, Bobby, I think we’re back on.”

 

“Woops…”

 

“Sorry about that folks,” apologizes Stevens, “but right now we have more pressing matters as Edwin is having the life choked out of him by Chris Wilson! Up on the stage, Strangler shrugs and picks up ELM, preparing to dispose of him-“

 

The crowd’s boos are replaced by loud cheers as bleach-blonde muscleman comes through the crowd behind Wilson and slides into the ring, carrying a chair. Wilson does something possibly never done by a wrestler in the history, and looks up at the Smarktron™. He releases Edwin and dives through the ropes just as LDP takes a swing with his chair.

 

“Longdogger Pete!” exclaims Stevens. “Longdogger Pete just came through the crowd to get a piece of Wilson, and the rest of X Force 9 comes out on the stage, brawling with the M7 and giving the Carnies the chance they need to fight back as Pete pounds the chair into the mat, Wilson looking up at him in awe.”

 

“What’s he doing out here?” demands Riley. “He just ruined Wilson’s perfect beginning to our evening. Security!”

 

LDP tosses his chair to the side and tears off his bright Hawaiian shirt, beckoning Wilson to get into the ring and completely ignoring Edwin. Wilson just gives him a smirk and backpedals to the side of the ramp, heading to the back, wanting to avoid any conflict up on the stage.

 

“What a way to start off the show!” shouts Stevens. “Wilson vs. MacPhisto, one more time at Apocalypse, and the all out stable wars continue. If Z and ELM can get ready to go, they’re going to face Deathwish and Xero next, but don’t just stick around for that, because later tonight we’ve got the tag titles being defended against Chilly Chilly Bang Bang while Wilson takes on Fallout for the ICTV title, along with a big-time X Force 9/Creative Control match up. It’s Breggan vs. Erek Taylor, in a 'I Quit' match! You won’t want to miss that, so stay tuned!”

 

And we fade to commercial, the crowd still roaring loudly for X Force 9…

[Guest BA_Baracus]

TAG TEAM MATCH

Danny Williams & Xero vs. El Luchadore Magnifico & Z

- A couple weeks back Danny Williams and Xero shook hands after fighting a brutal match. There appears to be some type of friendship between the two, but will it be enough to overcome Magnifico and Z?

 

SINGLES MATCH

Ash Ketchum vs. The Boston Strangler

- Ash Ketchum is convinced that someone from the Magnificent 7 took him out of action for a couple weeks. So, of course it logically follows that he must fight the Boston Strangler on Smarkdown.

 

NON-TITLE, NO-DQ MATCH

Jay Dawg vs. Silent

- Stubby isn’t quite sure what all the fuss over Silent is about, but he’s sending his right hand man to find out.

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

 

TAG TEAM TITLE MATCH

Edwin MacPhisto & Chris Raynor © vs. Frost & “TNT” Taylor Nicholas Thompson

- Frost and TNT won the tag title’s #1 contendership way back at Ground Zero. It’s been a while coming, but on Smarkdown the title match finally happens!

 

SINGLES MATCH

Perfect Bo vs. Annie Eclectic

- Perfect Bo returned on Storm and looked as if he was going to join X-force 9, but at the last moment he turned on them and revealed that he was really joining Creative Control (bwahahahaa!). Anywho…Bo looks to kick some curvy XF9 bum this Monday.

 

“I QUIT” MATCH

Lerrin Breggan vs. Erek Taylor

- Apparently Erek Taylor stole some of Stubby’s weed on Storm. The ultimate crime, and while it doesn’t really seem like something Taylor would do, Stubby’s convinced it was him and has sent Lerrin Breggan to teach him a lesson.

Match Description – Regular DQ and count-out are not in effect. The winner is the first one to force their opponent of audibly say, “I quit”.

 

ICTV TITLE MATCH

Fallout © vs. Chris Wilson

- Chris Wilson suffered the indignity of being eliminated first in the heavyweight title match on Storm. Can he rebound this Monday, and win himself his first singles gold since returning to the SWF?

[Guest BA_Baracus]

The Commissioner's door is wide open, and rightfully so as Erek Taylor storms through in a rage. He slams his fist on the desk of Stubby McWeed, immediately pointing out that this is no joke.

 

"What the hell, McWeed?!"

 

Stubby stands upright and loosens himself up. He walks around the desk and places one hand on Erek's shoulder before suddenly rocketing a punch forward, decking Erek Taylor down with it and igniting countless waves of boos!!

 

"Shut the fuck up, bitch. I remind you that this place is owned by me. Me! ME! No jackass is gonna come around and pull a successful heist when I'm in this biz."

 

"You're a fucking moron, McWeed. I didn't even take your damn stash. You got the wrong man and you know it!"

 

"Oh oh oh, no, I know that I can't trust you. And though you have every right to go out on me, I suggest you concentrate on your match with Breggan. After all, it is going to be your last."

 

"I didn't take your stash!"

 

"Well then, win the match and we'll see about it."

 

Erek Taylor rises, and glares straight into the soul of McWeed. He shakes his head and exits the door in a hurry.

[Guest BA_Baracus]

Hardy: Danny! Xero! If I may have a couple seconds of your time, I was wandering if I could ask you a few questions before your match tonight?

 

Williams: We got a match in 10 minutes, you better make this quick!

 

Hardy: ................Well, I guess what everyone would like to know is.........I mean what I want to ask is.....Why are you and Xero tagging together.

 

Xero: Or why I and Williams are tagging together.

 

Hardy: Uh...Right.

 

Xero: Well, it’s no secret that I’ve really been slumping in singles action lately. To be honest I was thinking about calling it a career, and just walking away. But that idea died last week in my match against Williams. Williams brought out the best in me, and for the first time in a long time I felt like their was still hope for my career.....

 

Hardy: But that still don’t explain why you are tagging together.

 

Xero: If you would let me finish what.....

 

Hardy: Sorry, I........

 

Xero: Shut the hell up, and let me finish!

 

Hardy: .......................

 

Xero: Good, now as I was saying. Before I go out on my own to achieve my dream and become a singles champion, I want to give myself a little test to see if I still have what it takes. I’am going to take a rookie with only one tag match to his credit, and carry him to the SWF tag team titles! Don't forget Hardy, I was a two time IGNJL Tag Team champion as well, so i know what success is when it comes around to the tag titles.

 

Hardy: Thats true, but that’s a pretty big goal. But Danny why are teaming with a non M7 member. Are you having any problems with your M7 stablemates?

 

Williams: Hell no! This is simply a side project for me, it has nothing to do with M7. Frost and TNT are doing a damn good job of representing M7 in the tag team division..............even though people seem to forget that I did make Frost tap out in my final JL match, and that I actually use to train TNT and helped him become the killing machine he is today. But that’s beside the point, I wish them the best of luck.

 

Hardy: It sounds like your jealous.

 

Williams: The hell I am! I just want the bookers to take more notice of me, I was the SJL Champion when I was bumped! I was on a 7 match winning streak, and beat every single person in my bumpee class that faced me in the ring! But no, I’am the one that’s sitting at the bottom of the card, and that’s going to change. Hopefully winning the tag titles will wake up the corrupt bookers around here, and they’ll have no choice but to give me the push that I deserve!

 

Xero: And the one that I deserve! Now if you excuse us Hardy, we have to kick some Carnie ass!

[Guest BA_Baracus]

The fans from all around Green Bay Wisconson to come and watch SWF Smarkdown live at the Resch Center. The fans bring their fancy cardboard signs most of them Midnight Carnival signs and also Annie E signs as well. Both of the SWF commentators Grand Slam Mark Stevens and Bobby Riley are now at the commentator's table, as the show gets underway with a beautiful display of fireworks.

 

Stevens: HELLO EVERYBODY AND WELCOME TO SMARKDOWN!!!! As usual I am your host "Grand Slam" Mark Stevens, and along side me as usual my trusted co-worker Bobby Riley.

 

Riley: I feel so honoured, thanks.

 

Stevens: Tonight the ICTV Title is on the line as Chris Wilson is look to be the champion, but that champion is Fallout, and Fallout has never really had that much competition for that belt, but Wilson will want that belt after nearly missing the number one contendership for the SWF Belt.

 

Riley: Wilson no doubt in my mind that he would love that ICTV title belt, for what the third time now I think?

 

Stevens: Wilson has held that belt before, but we know Fallout doesn't want anyone to take this belt, and when you get Fallout in a match its gonna be a good long match, and with Wilson in there as well, this will be one hell of a match. Also we have the tag titles up for grabs as well. Edwin MacPhisto and Chris Raynor will defend their titles against Frost and "TNT" Taylor Nicholas Thompson which the new guys have impressed me alot.

 

Riley: Frost and TNT have shown that they can play with the big boys, but their bark is louder than their bite. If the carnies aren't careful they might just get their belts taken away, but if they are on their A game, then don't expect the M7 members to do that well at all.

 

Stevens: As well we have another Tag Match, and it'll be up in a few minutes. We have the carnies again, in El Luchadore Magnifico and Z, will be up against a rather odd pairing with "Deathwish" Danny Williams and Xero.

 

Riley: Danny has only had one tag team match in his career, yet he has chosen a rather shaky vet in Xero, but don't me wrong, Xero is a two time SJL tag team champion he has experiance in the ring and especially when it comes to a tag team match.

 

The rythymic guitar blasts of Dillinger Escape Plan "Calculating Infinity" is blast of the loud speaker here in the Resch Center. Danny slowly emerges from the back as he stands right on the ring enterance, the boos from the Green Bay folk are loud as an airplane jet.

 

Stevens: There's Danny, but where's Xero?

 

Riley: Gambling?

 

Stevens: More in likely...yes.

 

Danny stands on the path of the ring enterance, as Master of Puppets by Metallica starts to play. After a few seconds the riff fades out, but only to a loud shout from Metallica's lead singer James Hetfield saying "OBEY YOUR MASTER!" Xero emerges from the back as red fireworks explode from either side of Xero.

 

Stevens: I guess you are wrong Riley. Well there it is folks, the unlikely pairing of "Deathwish" Danny Williams and Xero are actually here together.

 

Funyon: Ladies and Gentlemen, this match up is a tag team match schedualed for one fall. Entering first at a combined weight of 449 pounds. They are "Deathwish" Danny Williams and his tag team partner...XERO!!!

 

Once funyon announced Danny and Xero's names, the crowd starts to throw paper cups at the tag team.

 

Stevens: As you can see folks, Green Bay really despise of Xero and Danny Williams here, they want them out of their town.

 

The lights in the Resch Center fade to black as a soft female voice whispers "Midnight Carnvial". The Smarktron flashes the blazing white in time of Red Hot Chili Peppers "Love Rollercoaster", the Carnie theme. The crowd gets up in a riot as they cheer for there beloved heroes. Three blue laser lights trace the Resch Center, and as soon as the words "rollercoaster of love" is played the blue laser lights haze across the enterance ramp. ELM and Z walk out from the back as the crowd goes abosultely nuts for the luchadore and the crazy witted guy name Z. Purple strobe lights flash in the arena, as both ELM and Z walk down the runway together.

 

Funyon: There opponent for tonight, at a combined weight of Four hundred nineteen pounds. They are the members of Midnight Carnvial, please welcome....EL LUCHADOREEEEE MAGNIFICOOOOO and ZEEEEEE!!!

 

The fans hero's have arrived to fight the evil team of Xero and "Deathwish" Danny. Xero looks like he will be in the ring at first, and Z will be in for the carnies. Funyon signals for the bell as Smarkdown gets underway.

 

Riley: LETS GET IT ON!

 

Stevens: Shut up.

 

Z and Xero circle around each other inside the squared circle. Xero comes close to ELM who attempts to hit Xero with a forearm from behind, but Xero rolls out of the way avoiding the arm. Z approaches Xero and Danny's corner, as Danny nails the the knee in the spine of Z. Z quickly turns around and throws a wild punch at Danny. Danny jumps off the ring apron avoiding Z's fist, as Z lunges towards the ropes. Xero quickly runs up behind the carnie as Xero pulls Z from underneath him into a school boy. Z kicks out with out the ref even dropping to the mat. Xero gets up to his feet quickly though as Z is running towards Xero. Xero jumps up into the air nailing a smooth looking drop kick towards the charging Z.

 

Stevens: So far so good, as Xero and Danny are able to knock the carnie off his feet rather early on.

 

Z holding his jaw from the dropkick, as Xero grabs Z by his hair, and lifts him up to his feet. Xero takes the back of his hand and nails a hard sounding knife edge chop across the chest, which backs Z up against the ropes. Xero strikes a few knees towards the ribs of Z, before sending Z to the ropes with an Irish whip. Z springs off the ropes and coming towards Xero at full speed. Xero leaps on to Z's shoulders and brings him down with the Hurricanrana. Z grabs a hold of the middle rope though, but Xero doesn't care. Xero kicks right in the spine of Z before picking him up. Xero locks in a front face lock, as he tags in the rookie of tag team matches Danny Williams.

 

Riley: Xero really made Z look like a wimp out there.

 

Stevens: And a nice swift stiff kick by Danny knocking Z right on the mat.

 

Z lies on the ground as ELM is getting frustrated in the corner. Danny grabs a hold of Z by his arm and pulls him up off his feet. Still holding on to his right arm, Danny delivers vicious looking knees into the kidneys of Z.

 

Stevens: Danny is a real stiff worker folks, so those knee shots are actually going to hurt Z for a while, especially around the kidney area's.

 

Danny backs Z up to the ropes, and lashes Z towards the ropes. Z recoils off the ropes as Danny looking for a strong lariat misses his target. Z stops in his tracks as Danny turns around only to eat a size 12 foot from Z.

 

Stevens: The Blizard of Oz by Z.

 

Danny holding his mouth, but no blood has been drawn out, and all of his teeth are still in. Z picks up Danny from the mat, grabs his arm and throws him into the turnbuckles. Z sprints towards Danny, as he gets closer, Z leaps in the air connecting a body splash towards Danny. Z makes the tag to ELM, as both of the carnies are double teaming up against Danny Williams. The crowd goes crazy for the carnies as both Z and ELM are stomping away at the chest of Danny.

 

Stevens: Midnight Carnival are back on the attack, and are surely kicking the crap out of Danny Williams.

 

Riley: Xero is livid. He does not like this at all.

 

ELMS drags Williams out of the corner, and pulls him up by his wrist. ELMS chickenwings Williams’ arm, than drops to his knees, driving Williams’ chin into his shoulder! Williams eye’s roll up in his head, and he flops back lifelessly the mat.

 

Stevens: MONTEZUMA’S REVENAGE!

 

Riley: Who the hell is Montezuma?

 

Suddenly ELMS spins around, and knocks Xero off the apron with a Dropkick out of nowhere! Xero’s crashes into the guardrail, and flops face first on the floor.

 

Riley: What a cheap shot from ELMS!

 

Stevens: Well he has to stop Xero’s constant interference somehow.

 

Riley: Well Xero’s so called constant interference is legal. However it is illegal to hit a man when he is in his legal corner, doing nothing but waiting for a tag!

 

ELMS climbs back to his feet as quickly as he can, but Williams is already up! Williams spins around and fires the Rolling Elbow! But ELMS catches Williams’ arm, and locks him up in position for a Backslide!

 

Stevens: ELMS setting Williams up for the BEJA CALIFORNIA CRUSHER!

 

Riley: Who the hell came up with these idiotic names?

 

ELMS tries to run for the neutral corner, but Williams keeps his boots planted to the mat! “HUUUUUR” grunts Williams as he starts leaning forward in attempt to take ELMS down for the pin attempt. ELMS cries out in pain as he uses all the power of his small frame to keep his feet on the earth. The fans starting pounding their feet to encourage ELMS to hang on. But Z takes matters into his own hands, and steps through the ropes. Z gets in his superkick stance, takes aim, and fires at the tied up Williams! CRACK!

 

Stevens: BLIZZARD OF OZZZZZZZZZ!

 

Riley: What a cheap shot from Z! How can the referee continue to allow the Carnies to get away with this crap!

 

Feeling that his work is done, Z goes back to his corner. Williams is out on his feet, allowing ELMS to rush to the corner and run up the turnbuckles! ELMS flips over Williams, and drives his face into the mat with the

 

Stevens: ELMS hit it! IT’S ALL OVER!

 

ELMS rolls Williams over, and covers him for the pin. The crowd counts all with the ref.

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

THREE!

 

NO! Xero drags ELMS out of the ring by his foot, just before the ref’s hand touches the mat! Xero pops a surprised ELMS in the jaw with a couple of elbows, and locks him in a front facelock! Xero falls back, and drives the top of ELMS into the floor with the Purgatory! Williams is still in the ring, now kicking his feet into the air while holding his face with both hands. The ref shouts some warnings at Xero, who responds by climbing back on to the apron. Z drops down to the floor, and walks around the ring to his fallen partner. Z locks his arms around ELMS’ chest, and drags him back to the Carnie corner. Still thriving in pain, Williams rolls over to Xero and tags him in! Z rolls ELMS back into the ring, hops on the apron, and tags himself in!

 

Stevens: Well that’s one way of making the tag.

 

Riley: You know, you have to be pretty damn selfish to tag yourself in. Typical egotistical behavior from the Carnies.

 

Z and Xero rush out of their corners like attack dogs! Z swings an Arm Grenade as soon as Xero steps in range! But Xero ducks, and counters with a Superkick! But Z catches Xero’s boot, pulls him in and blasts him with the Arm Grenade! THUMP! Xero lands so hard on his back, that he bounces over on his belly! Z celebrates by letting out an emotional cry, and raising his arms in the air. The crowd responds to Z’s passion by chanting his name “Z! Z! Z!” in unison. Xero looks like he’s been shot with horse tranquilizers, but Z pulls him up in anyway. Z lets Xero go and draws back for another Arm Grenade, but Xero collapses to his knees. Z rolls his eyes, and takes position near the ropes. A drowsy Xero staggers to his feet seemingly blind to Z bouncing off the ropes at him. As Z closes in on Xero, he out stretches his arm!

 

Stevens: RUNNING ARM GRENADE!

 

But Xero catches him in front waistlock, and tosses him high over head! BOOM! Z lands sickly on his neck and shoulders with legs folded over his head.

 

Riley: NO! DANGEROUS BELLY TO BELLY SUPLEX!

 

Xero climbs to his feet, confident that Z is finished. Suddenly, he hears to the crowd pop and turns around to see ELMS perched on the top rope! Before Xero can react, ELMS dives off the top rope and catches him in a front facelock! ELMS uses the momentum of the dive to spin Xero around, and drives his head into the mat with the Tornado DDT!

 

Stevens: ELMS getting some pay back for the Purgatory tjat Xero hit him with a few minutes ago.

 

Riley: Payback, you can’t be serious! Xero hit ELMS with that Purgatory while they were face to face and man to man. ELMS hit the Tornado DDT while Xero had his back turned. It was a cowardly sneak attack, and nothing more.

 

Williams charges into the ring, and catches ELMS with the Rolling Elbow as he stands up! But ELMS is too fast, and ducks in the nick of time! ELMS locks a back waistlock on the off balance Williams, and snaps back for the German Suplex! Williams lands on the top of his head, but bounces to his feet. Williams tries to lunge at ELMS, but his legs give out he collapses to the mat. With what control over his body he has left, Williams rolls out on to the apron to avoid further punishment.

 

Riley: Dammit! Williams came so close to getting through this match without taking a German Suplex.

 

The crowd is on their feet, and giving a constant applause for ELMS single handedly taking over the match. With Xero and Williams out of the way, ELMS kneels beside his fallen partner. ELMS wakes Z up with a few slaps to the face, and helps him to his feet. ELMS barks a few orders at Z, but do to the noise of the crowd no one can hear but Z. ELMS steps on to the apron of the Carnie corner, and starts climbing the turnbuckles. Z goes to the neutral corner on the same side of the ring, and starts climbing the turnbuckles. ELMS balances himself on the top rope, and waits for a groggy Z to also reach the top.

 

Stevens: It looks Z is going for the SHOTGUN MOONSAULT while ELMS is going for the MEXICAN PRESS! This could surely put Xero away for good.

 

Riley: Why is the ref letting those bastards double team poor Xero?

 

Camera flashes light up the arena like a disco, as ELMS jumps off the top rope and executes a beautiful Shooting Star Press! BOOM! ELMS lands perfectly on the laid out Xero, and quickly rolls off of him. ELMS steps back to safe distance, and yells “Now Z!” Z bends his knees to jump to prepare to jump, but a recovered Williams starts shaking the ropes from the apron! Z loses his balance and crouches himself on the top turnbuckle! “OOOOOOOOO” sighs the crowd as Z attempts to scream but is in way to much pain to even do that. Williams rushes across the apron, and starts blasting the defenseless Z with elbow after elbow! ELMS runs to the rescue, and climbs out on the apron with Williams. ELMS spins Williams around, and blasts him with a European Uppercut! Williams wobbles, but comes right back with a stiff elbow to ELMS’ nose! CRACK! Williams quickly pushes the dazed ELMS into a standing headscissors, and locks his arms around his waist!

 

Stevens: OH NO! HE’S GOING TO DEATHBOMB ELMS FROM THE APRON!

 

Williams lifts ELMS off the apron with ease, and tosses him off with the Deathbomb!

 

Riley: DEATHBOOOOOOOOOOMB!

 

 

But ELMS locks his legs around Williams head and pulls him off the apron as well! Both men splat on the floor with sickening thumps, drawing a “Holy-Shit!” chant from the crowd.

 

Stevens: ELMS REVERSED THE DEATHBOMB TO A HURRICANRANA! BOTH MEN ARE DOWN! Wrong again Riley, Ha!

 

Riley: Oh any idiot can call the moves after they happen.

 

Z comes back to his senses, and climbs back on to the top rope for the Moonsault! But Xero pops up, and dives on to the ropes! Z once again loses his balance and crouches himself! Z’s skin turns whiter than usual as he almost passes out from the pain. Xero walks to the corner where Z is crouched, and starts climbing the turnbuckles. Xero climbs to the top rope, and pulls Z up with him by his hair. The crowd “OOOOOOOs” as Xero snaps on a full nelson!

 

Stevens: OH MY GOD! He can’t be going for a DRAGON SUPERPLEX!

 

Riley: I can’t believe what I’am seeing, it’s like a dream come true. Xero is going to actually drop Z on his head from the top rope!

 

Xero leaps backwards off the top rope, tossing Z overhead in the process!

 

Riley: DRAGOOOOOOOOON SUPAHSUPLEEEEEEEEX!

 

Xero hits the mat hard, but Z lands right on the BACK OF HIS SKULL! BOOM! The ring shakes so violently it looks like there was an earthquake. The crowd is incomplete shock, thinking they just witnessed a man being dropped to his death.

 

Stevens:.................I’am completely loss for words at what I have just seen. I can only pray that more Z is not seriously injured.

 

Riley: Speak for your self, I hope Z broke his neck and has to retire so we can never disgrace the squared circle with his presence again.

 

Both men are out, but it’s obvious who is hurt more. The ref is so concerned for Z’s health, that he even checks his pulse. Back on the outside, ELMS pulls himself up with the ring apron and tires to slide back into the ring. But for some reason ELMS can’t lift his leg up, he looks down to see Williams clinging to his boots. ELMS starts kicking at Williams with his free leg, but he can’t shake him off.

 

Back on the inside, Xero manages to lay an arm across Z’s chest. The ref slides to the mat, and starts counting.

 

ONE!

 

 

ELMS finally kicks Williams off, and slides back into the ring.

 

 

TWO!

 

ELMS dives at Xero and Z, as the ref raises his arm a third time.

 

 

THREE!

 

 

NO! ELMS knocks Xero’s arm off Z, at the last second! The crowd explodes into a “ELMS” chant, and starts pounding their feet so fast it resembles firecrackers. ELMS kneels beside Z, and starts slapping his face to wake him up like before. But out of nowhere Williams locks a sleeper on ELMS and drags him to a corner! A drowsy Xero crawls on top of Z, and the ref starts counting again.

 

ONE!

 

ELMS starts firing elbows into Williams ribs, forcing him to release the Sleeper!

 

TWO!

 

Now free ELMS dives at Xero to break up the pinfall.

 

THREE!

 

ELMS knocks Xero off, but it’s too late. DING! DING! DING!

 

Riley: ELMS WAS TOO LATE! HE BLEW IT! THE CARNIES LOST! HAHAHAHAHAHA!

 

Stevens: Well I wouldn’t say he blew it. ELMS did all he could to save Z.

 

Riley: Yeah but he didn’t save his partner, unlike Xero who was able to save Williams several times during the match.

 

Stevens: Xero does have more experience in tag team situations than ELMS.

 

Riley: In other words he’s better, and that’s why he won. End of story.

 

Williams raises his arms in the air, while a frustrated ELMS briefly argues with the ref before giving up and accepting defeat. Williams helps Xero up, and the two point and laugh at the still unconscious Z. The pissed off crowd’s“BOOOOOOOOOOOS!” is the only audible sound, completely drowning out Funyon’s official announcement.

 

Riley: Damn these loud fans, I can’t hear the official announcement.

 

Stevens: But you know who won.

 

Riley: I know, but it would still be more satisfying to hear it announced over the louder speakers that those Carnie bastards finally lost.

 

Stevens: Well it was a great effort for both teams, it’s a shame that anyone had to lose such a hard fought match up.

 

Riley: You disgust me, I need a break. Cut to a damn commercial.

[Guest BA_Baracus]

Aaaaaaaaaaand we’re back on SWF Smarkdown, yo! The fans in hop up onto their feet, cheeseheads galore dotting the crowd in Green Bay, Wisconsin as everyone gets psyched. Signs shoot up into the air, the likes of “I CAME TO SEE SARAH’S BOOBS!” being seen on TVs across the nation. And now, it’s time to send it off to the two men in the announcer’s chairs, “Grand Slam” Mark Stevens and “The Human Penis Suplex Machine “ Bobby Riley.

 

Stevens: Welcome back to SWF Smarkdown! We broadcast tonight from the Cheesehead Capital of the World, Green Bay, Wisconsin, and we’ve just had a great opening match!

 

Riley: Williams and Xero versus Mags and Z does NOT equal ratings. How many times must I pound that through your head? Now, on the other hand... how does the new crew cut look on ol’ Bobby, huh? That equals ratings from the babes!

 

Stevens: I like it...

 

Riley: Really?

 

Stevens: Yeah.... and maybe, just maybe, you should start wearing tight tanktops, a painter’s cap, and little pink shorts, and move to San Francisco...

 

Riley: YOU TAKE THAT BACK, STEVENS! Wait... you’re a homophobe, aren’t you? What if a gay sat next to you on the bus, huh?

 

Stevens: Well, I have experience, as I’ve sat next to you for quite a while...

 

Riley: WHY, I OUGHTA-

 

Riley is cut off as the arena dims down, and the SmarkTron™ goes completely black. Suddenly, “Burn to Burn” by Static X begins to play. From behind the curtain, Strangler appears, clad in wrestling attire, a battered black trenchcoat, and a pair of sunglasses. The crowd rips into Strangler, who flashes them a sarcastic grin before briskly walking down the ramp. He trots to the bottom, sliding into the ring underneath the bottom rope as Funyon introduces him.

 

Funyon: The following match is scheduled for one-fall! Introducing first, from Boston, Massachusetts, weighing in at 306 pounds... he is a member of The Magnificent Seven... THE BOSSSSSSSSSTON STRANGLERRRRRRRRRR!!!!

 

Strangler climbs to his feet, and walks to a corner, where he removes his sunglasses and trench coat, which he tosses to the ground.

 

Stevens: Finally, The Boston Strangler gets himself a little singles match here, and his opponent, Ash Ketchum, is clearly in a lose-lose situation. I have a hard time seeing him beating such a powerful monster.

 

Riley: Yeah. Win, he gets his ass kicked later. Lose, he gets his ass kicked later! It’s great!

 

Suddenly, the lights cut out, a kickin’ piano solo blasting over the speakers. The crowd erupts into cheer, pyro similar to Christian’s entrance flowing from the top of the SmarkTron and spewing from vents in front of the entrance.

 

Stevens: Listen to the ovation!

 

Riley: SHUT THE FUCK UP, YOU MORONS! CHEER FOR A REAL MAN! CHEER FOR STRANGLER!

 

At the same time, a Poke Ball upon the SmarkTron. It begins to spin as the crowd pops, spinning 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. Turning around from his Jericho-like pose, he spins, smiling happily. Ash turns around and makes his way down to the ring, slapping hands with some of the crazed fans.

 

Funyon: And his opponent, from Pallet Town, weighing in at 258 pounds, he is a member of X FOOOOOOOORCE NIIIIINE... ASH KETCHUMMMMMMMMMMMMM!

 

He climbs up onto the apron, entering the ring. Dropping the helmet off in a corner, Ash climbs the turnbuckle closest to the crowd and with lightning precision, strips off his shirt. Whirling it wildly over his head, he smiles as he releases the shirt, flinging several rows back into the hands of a fan as Ash dismounts the turnbuckle, turning to face Strangler, a slightly fearful look on Ash as he looks up at the 6’9” monster.

 

Stevens: Look at that height differential! It’s four inches, but in the SWF, every inch is important!

 

Riley: He’s looking right into the eyes of the man, who in a few minutes, will slaughter him and end his career. Huzzah!

 

Eddy Long, Super Referee, steps between the two to explain instructions, and with a nod of the head from both men, Eddy signals to the timekeeper to ring his bell...

 

DING DING DING! Before our commentating friends get a chance to speak, Ketchum throws a quick right hook into Strangler’s face. The big man counters with a blow of his own, sending Ash staggering back, but Ketchum retaliates with another right hook. Strangler takes the blow but comes back with a second right hook, but it’s followed by another from Ash as the go back and forth. Ash. Strangler. Ash. Strangler. Ash. Strangler. Ash. Strangler. Strangler. Strangler. The big man puts his strength to use, overpowering the smaller Ash with a rapid succession of right hands. The Poke Freak staggers backwards towards the ropes, and the big man grabs hold of Ash’s arm, catapulting Ash across the ring. A bounce off the ropes sends Ash flying back at Boston, and-WHAM!-slams into Strangler’s extended arm, dropping viciously to a clothesline from the big man.

 

Stevens: Wow, stiff clothesline from Strangler! Ash just got knocked into another time-zone!

 

Riley: Looks like he’s picking him up now to toy with him some more!

 

Grabbing Ash around the head, Strangler throws Ash’s arm over his back, grabbing his tights and lifting him up into the air. He holds Ash in the air for five, six, seven, eight seconds, then drops back, slamming Ash’s back into the mat with a stalling suplex. Ash clenches his back and slowly begins to get up after the impact, but Strangler is there waiting for him, hooking Ash’s arm as he flips Ash onto his back with a basic arm drag. Strangler remains clamped on Ash’s arm, wrapping his around it into an armbar, forcing yelps of pain to come forth from Ketchum.

 

Riley: Listen to those cries of pain from Ash! How beautiful it is!

 

Stevens: If he keeps this locked in, he could very well snap Ash’s arm in two!

 

Suddenly, with a wiggle of the arm, Ash breaks loose of the hold, flying forward to the ropes. Shooting off them like a rubber band, he sets himself up for something, but the big Bostonian is all set up, and he slides Ash onto his shoulders, clutching him before falling back and slamming Ash with a Samoan drop! Ketchum grimaces in pain as Strangler releases him, hooking Ash’s leg as he attempts the first pinfall of the match:

 

One...

 

Two... Kickout by Ash! Strangler seems a bit surprised as he gets up, grabbing Ash by the head and pulling him up. He turns Ash to face him, draws his head back, and slams it forward into Ash’s skull, delivering a sick looking big headbutt top Ash’s head! Ketchum drops like a ton of bricks as Strangler rubs his forehead, looking to be in just a tiny bit of pain.

 

Stevens: Strangler is just DESTROYING Ash Ketchum! The Poke Freak can’t take much more punishment like this!

 

Riley: Boy, this is the most fun I’ve had watching a match since that classic Thugg-Rotten SWF Title Match in Japan!

 

Stevens: Ash is getting back up again. Looks like he’s got one hell of a headache-quick kick to the gut by Strangler! Very much like Strangler’s style, but he’s setting something else up. Wait, the big man’s running back to the ropes. Let’s see what he’s got in store for Ash this time around!

 

Strangler flies back from the ropes at the bent over Ash Ketchum, quickly grabbing him around the head in a front headlock before jumping into the air and dropping back, impacting Ash’s skull into the mat with a running DDT that sends shivers down everyone’s spines! The crowd boos loudly as Strangler rolls Ash onto his back, hooking his leg for another pinning attempt:

 

One...

 

Two...

 

Ash kicks out! Strangler flashes a glare back at Eddy Long, holding up three fingers as Eddy Long holds up two, conflicting with Superstation. Strangler doesn’t have time for these games, and as he gets up, he lets the Poke Freak get up by himself. He has a plan. This ends now. It is all falling into place.

 

Stevens: What does Strangler have in mind for Ash? Can it be The Boston Massacre this early?

 

Riley: All I can say is: Scratch one XF9er! Ketchum’s just come off the injured list, and he’s about to go back on!

 

Stevens: Now what’s he doing? God damn, Strangler’s climbing to the top rope! This is something he rarely does unless he’s set to finish Ash off soon!

 

Riley: I just told you that, dumbass. Don’t you listen?

 

Stevens: I’m used to your stupid comments, Bobby. That’s it.

 

Slowly, Ash pulls himself onto his feet, dazed and tired as Strangler faces him from the top rope. Strangler intertwines his hands, lifting them up into the air as he leaps off the top rope the precise moment Ash gets to his feet. He lets out a large battle cry, but as he files through the air, Ash throws his body into the air, legs extended, and dropkicks Strangler hard in the chest with a missile dropkick counter! Both men fall to the ground as a result, Ash trying to recover as fast as he can, trying to gain that momentum he could so use right now while Strangler climbs to his feet.

 

Stevens: Ketchum counters with the Rocket Launch, and what a big counter it is! Strangler probably could have sent Ash packing had he hit that double axe handle!

 

Riley: Very true. Strangler is evil, and evil will always win, because good is dumb. Mwahahahahaaaaaaaa!!!!

 

Stevens: You’re evil, and you never win?

 

Riley: Bull. I win all the time. You just don’t see it.

 

Both men rise up onto their feet a bit slow, but Strangler quickly attempts to go back on the offensive, charging at Ash. Ash, though, draws his arm back, and quickly, thrusts his palm into Strangler’s chest, stopping him dead in his tracks. Ash ducks down as he clenches his fist, jumping into the air and driving the fist under Strangler’s chin with a rising uppercut, finishing off the combo. Strangler staggers backwards from the blow as Ash runs to the opposite ropes, gaining momentum while he bounces off them and flies back at Strangler. Unexpectedly, Ash leaps into the air, somehow knocking down the bigger man as he lands on top of him with a Lou Thesz Press. Quickly, Ketchum draws his arm back and begins to pound away at Strangler’s upper body and head, pelting him with mounted punches, Eddy Long only able to watch from the sidelines as the crowd goes nuts.

 

Stevens: Ash continues to pummel Strangler, but here comes Eddy Long to break it up, and the crowd doesn’t like it!

 

Riley: Meh, Ash deserves it! I expect Strangler to just get right back up here! But look! the ref’s actually pulling Ash off Strangler! Why Ash won’t just give up and lie down, I don’t know!

 

Stevens: Ash wants revenge for whoever took him out back in Halifax!

 

Riley: Bah. Revenge is nothing. He can’t possibly take out Strangler, can he?

 

Stevens: This is amazing! He’s letting Strangler get up onto his feet, quick kick to the gut from Ash-

 

And quickly wrapping his arm around Strangler’s head, Ash lifts him off the ground a few inches and falls back, planting Strangler’s head into the mat with an inverted DDT! The big man goes down, and as Ash rolls him over, he hooks his leg as he attempts to pin him!

 

One...

 

Two... Strangler kicks out! The crowd is hushed as Ash begins to get up, Strangler slowly sitting up, grabbing his head in a bit of pain.

 

Stevens: The question now is “Can Ash Ketchum possibly beat Strangler?”

 

Riley: No way. Look, Strangler’s getting back up, just as Ash does. Ash stands NO chance against pure evil.

 

As Strangler gets to his feet, he takes a swing at Ash, but Ketchum catches him across the body as he ducks, straining to lift him into the air before falling forward and slamming Strangler down with a Rock Bottom, the Poke Rap! The crowd explodes in cheer as Ash once more drops down to cover Strangler, the crowd counting along...

 

One...

 

Two...

 

TH-NO! Strangler kicks out of the pin! The crowd goes silent as Ash gets onto his feet, grabbing Strangler and slowly, slowly pulling him up. They rise up onto their feet, and then, Ash runs for the ropes bouncing off them and flying back toward Strangler, forearm extended as he hits the-

 

Stevens: Forearm smash to the chest of Strangler! That may have done some actual damage! Strangler looks to be in a bit of pain form the move!

 

Strangler staggers back as Ash runs to the ropes again, hitting them and bouncing off, this time on the rebound, leaping sideways into a cross body block. Bad choice. Strangler catches Ash in his arms, and quickly, he falls back, slamming Ash into a fallaway slam! He holds onto Ash, though, bridging the move into a pin attempt!

 

One...

 

Two...

 

THR-NO! Ash kicks out! Strangler can’t believe it as he releases Ash. The referee, meanwhile, goes over to Ash to check on him, but Ketchum grabs hold of the ref, using him as leverage to pull himself up onto his feet. Eddy Long nearly falls down, but he reaches back and grabs the ropes, holding on for his own safety while Ash pulls himself up!

 

Riley: CHEATER! He’s using the ref as leverage! Unfair!

 

Stevens: Oh, and like Strangler hasn’t cheated before.

 

Ash gets up onto his feet slowly, releasing Long and staggering back toward the now sitting up Strangler.

 

Riley: As a matter of fact.... he hasn’t!

 

As Ash gets onto his feet, Strangler sitting up from the move, Strangler reaches up, grabbing Ash’s shorts, and clenching them, pulls Ash over onto his back for a roll up from behind! Ash’s back hits the mat, but quickly, he breaks out of the hold, rolling onto his feet as Strangler straightens himself out. But as both men get up, Strangler kicks the still-rising Ash in the balls, delivering a low blow that bends him over, and hooking Ash’s arms, Strangler quickly falls back, implanting Ash with-

 

Riley: BAM! LIGHTS OUT FROM STRANGLER! It’s over now!

 

Stevens: A devastating double arm DDT may have finished Ash off! Here’s the pin from Strangler and the count!

 

One...

 

 

Two...

 

 

THREE-NO! KICKOUT! KICKOUT! With the last bit of energy he seems to have left, Ash kicks out. Strangler screams out in anger, knowing he had Ash for the three count, and not even bothering to argue with Eddy Long, he pulls Ash onto his feet, throwing him into a nearby corner with a whip. Ash slams into the corner, and quickly, Strangler follows him in, grabbing the nearest rope and beginning to stomp a hole into Ash.

 

Stevens: Come on! This match needs to end! Ash can’t continue, I think! Wait, Eddy Long’s coming over to break up the stomping!

 

As Eddy comes over, Strangler snaps even further, shoving the ref back. Long hits his head awkwardly on the mat, knocking himself out for a few minutes on accident as Strangler continues the stomping, throwing in a few boot chokes as well, much to the crowd’s hatred. Ash eventually stops crying out, and Strangler stops out of boredom, turning to taunt the fans with the throat-slitting gesture. But then, he pulls a beaten Ash up, quickly whipping him to the ropes.

 

Stevens: Strangler’s flipped! He’s taking no prisoners! And now, Ash is flying back at Strangler from the ropes! Ketchum may be setting Strangler up for a counter here!

 

But as he does, Strangler’s hand opens, his arm flies forward, clenching the throat of Ash in mid-stride. He lifts Ash high into the air, and quickly, he drops him to the mat, executing a ring-shaking...

 

Stevens: CHOKESLAM! THE PLUNGE, AS HE CALLS IT! IT IS OVER! HE’S PINNING ASH TO THE MAT AS I SPEAK!

 

 

One...

 

 

Two...

 

 

 

THREE!!! GOD DAMMIT! STRANGLER WINS!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

But the ref’s still out! He didn’t even make the count, and by now, Strangler sees Eddy Long is down. He begins to scream at Long to get his sorry ass up off the mat as he, too, rises to his feet, clutching a limp Ash Ketchum with both hands.

 

Stevens: Ash got lucky, but it looks like Strangler’s lifting Ash high, high into the air into a press slam!

 

Riley: I think we know what’s next: The Boston Massacre.

 

Stevens: This is it! This will finish it off! Strangler has this one won!

 

Strangler has Ash in position for his final move, but as he is paraded around the ring before he is to be executed, Ash counters in his own way, slowly sliding off the arms of Strangler and landing on his feet, and Ash lands behind Strangler, Ketchum hooks his arms, falling onto his back as he drops Strangler down into a backslide neckbreaker!

 

Stevens: C4! C4! ASH KETCHUM HITS A BIG COUNTER!

 

The crowd pops as Ash slowly sits up, Eddy Long coming to as Ash slowly, painfully begins to push himself onto his feet, staggering into a nearby turnbuckle.

 

Stevens: THIS COULD BE THE ICING ON THE CAKE! Can it really be happening? Have the odds been defied? Has Ash somehow beaten the unstoppable force known as The Boston Strangler?

 

Riley: Are pigs flying? I think not.

 

Ash climbs to the top rope, turning around as he reaches the top. He has been beaten to Hell and back, but one last move may end this massacre. And with that, he makes his split-finger “V” sign and leaps form the top rope in obvious pain. He spins in the air, flying into a Shooting Star Press, but just as it looks like his chest is about to hit Strangler’s, he pulls his body around an additional 30 degrees, slamming his knees into Strangler’s chest with a Shooting Star Knee Drop! The sheer force of the move knocks him forward onto Strangler’s body, covering his chest as he subconsciously pins Strangler to the mat!

 

Stevens: POKE BALL, GO! THE FINISHING MOVE FROM ASH KETCHUM HAS BEEN EXECUTED! HERE’S THE COUNT FROM A TIRED EDDY LONG!

 

One...

 

 

 

Two...

 

 

THREE!!!

 

DING DING DING! ASH WINS AND THE CROWD GOES WILD!

 

Funyon: Your winner... ASH KETCHUMMMMMMMMM!!!!

 

Stevens: He’s defied the odds! He’s really done it! He’s won! HE BEAT STRANGLER! IT’S A MIRACLE!

 

Riley: God damn... Strangler got screwed.

 

Ash rolls out of the ring as quick as he can, landing on the floor below and staggering back up the ramp as his music plays. Strangler sits up, grabbing his ribs and staring in disbelief that Ash, that’s right, Ash, just beat him. Eddy Long comes over to check on Strangler, but He begins to yell in the face of Eddy, claiming he screwed him out of the win. Eddy begins to back up in terror as Strangler gets onto his feet, still holding his ribs and yelling, crowd booing him.

 

Stevens: Come on, Strangler! You lost because you screwed yourself!

 

Riley: Hell no! It’s a conspiracy! They want you to lose! It’s true!

 

Eddy Long tries to explain, but Strangler has no patience. He suddenly grabs Long around the throat, Eddy’s eyes lighting up in fear, jaw dropping as he gasps for air and asks for mercy. But cries go unheard as Superstation lifts the referee high into the air before, holding him for a second...

 

Stevens: DEAR GOD, NO! SOMEONE STOP HIM!

 

BAM! And then it’s over as Strangler chokeslams Long into the mat. Eddy remains motionless, face in shock as he tries to breathe. Strangler whispers something inaudible to himself as he turns, exiting the ring through the ropes.

 

Riley: Beautiful! That’s how you prove a point! I bet Eddy Long won’t make that mistake again!

 

Stevens: Come on! He attacked an innocent referee just because he lost. Eddy Long may be on the shelf for a while to come. But he didn’t deserve this!

 

Riley: Whatever. You know I’m right. Say it, dammit: “Bobby’s right and I suck cock.”

 

A ringside worker hands Strangler his trenchcoat, Strangler snapping it up and sliding it on as he walks backwards toward the curtain, emotionless, the crowd still booing him... and then, he cracks a sadistic smile and gives out a quick chuckle as he looks back at the carnage in the ring. And then, we fade to black, just before commercial, with these parting words...

 

Stevens: Only two words can seem to describe The Boston Strangler: true terror...

[Guest BA_Baracus]

“And we’re back!” exclaims “Grand Slam” Mark Stevens, the camera swiftly cutting back to the announcer’s table with the veteran announcer and his partner, Bobby Riley. “Those of you just joining us from your homes missed out on a brutal contest between Ash Ketchum and The Boston Strangler…it looks like the ring attendants have gotten most of the blood stains out of the ring, so I suppose it’s time for the next match!”

 

Multiple fireworks explode around the entrance ramp, and carefully-detonated pyrotechnics rain down from the rafters. The lights go out as a countdown appears on the Smarkstron…

 

“Three…”

 

”Two…”

 

“One…”

 

 

”THIS! IS! MAH! HOUSE!”

 

Rammstein’s “Du Hast” slams forcefully against the ears of the Green Bay audience as Jamie Drazon, his Hardcore title slung over one shoulder, enters the arena through the curtains at the top of the ramp.

 

“Introducing first,” bellows Funyon as Jay Dawg makes his way down the ramp, “He hails from Vancouver, Canada, and weighs in at two hundred and fifty pounds…he his the Hardcore champion, and represents Creative Control…JAAYYYYYYYYY DAAAAAAWWWWWWWWGGGGGGGGG!”

 

The Hardcore champion shoves his belt into the ring before sliding in after it. He slowly rises to his feet, places his hands on his thighs, and very deliberately cracks his neck, a loud **CRACK** that is actually picked up by the ring mics as Eddy Long hands the Hardcore belt to the timekeeper. JD steps back into the corner and reclines against the turnbuckle, waiting patiently on his opponent’s arrival.

 

The lights throughout the Resch center are abruptly cut off; the only source of illumination is the gigantic Chinese character that glows menacingly on the Smarkstron.

“Retribution (Front 242 Remix)” hits the sound system, and the spotlights at the top of the entrance ramp flicker rapidly, almost erratically. White smoke begins to billow out from behind the curtains at the top of the ramp as Funyon announces Drazon’s opponent…

 

“I’ve never seen someone voluntarily lose a match the way Silent did, just to inflict more punishment on his opponent afterwards. Silent and Jamie Drazon don’t fight to win-they fight to brutalize, to maim their opponents. While I can’t endorse either one of these men in good conscience…in a no-DQ match, I don’t think I have to. There’s no clear favorite here, Bobby, but I do know this: this will not be a match for the weak at heart.”

 

“Introducing second, he hails from Phoenix, Arizona, and weighs in at two hundred and forty-eight pounds…he is representing the Clan…SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIILENT!”

 

The Slaughterer emerges from the smoke, seeming to glide down the ramp, an illusion enhanced by the flickering lights and the pulsating music. Silent casually ducks an empty popcorn box hurled by an irate fan as he climbs onto the ring apron, a smile on his face as he takes in his surroundings. Hopping through the ropes and hurrying to the center of the ring, Silent smoothly removes his coat and hands it, along with his cane, to referee Eddy Long, who deposits it alongside Drazon’s Hardcore title on the outside of the ring.

 

Jay Dawg leaves his corner and advances to the middle of the ring, where he stands face to face with the Clansman. The shouts and jeers from the crowd are enormous, as they can’t seem to decide which wrestler they hate more.

 

“Jaime Drazon and Silent, sizing each other up…don’t expect a wrestling clinic from these two, Bobbi. This is going to be a fight, no doubt about it.”

 

The bell rings…

 

**DING DING**

 

…And Jay Dawg clocks the Silent One with a stiff right hook! The Clansman responds in kind, driving a forearm into JD’s face! The two men brawl back and forth, all elbows and forearms and wildly swinging fists, and the crowd kicks their cheering up a notch as two of their least favorite wrestlers begin the process of beating one another to a pulp!

 

“There they go, Riley! This is going to be a knock-down, drag-out brawl all the way through, it looks like!”

 

”Right you are, Mark! There’s going to be blood! There’s going to be screaming! There’s going to be a lot of personal injury, and I’m going to have a damn good time calling it!”

 

Silent absorbs another right hook from the Hardcore champion and responds with a sharp elbow strike to the side of Jamie’s head…then another…then a third, sending JD stumbling back a step! The Silent One lunges forward with a shotei, but Drazon sidesteps it, grabs a hasty front facelock, and drives the Slaughterer to the match with his patented JD DDT!

 

”Jay Dawg with the early cover!” shouts Bobbi as JD hooks the leg…

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

Silent comfortably kicks out, seemingly unfazed by JD’s neck-snapping maneuver. Annoyed, Drazon grabs a handful of the rookie’s hair and pulls him to his feet, wraps his arms around Silent’s chest, and hoists him into the air, slamming him back to the mat with a Shamrock-style belly-to-belly suplex!

 

“That’s two high-impact moves from Jay Dawg in the very beginning of this match!” yells Stevens as JD scrambles into the mount position and begins to rain down left and right hands on the unprotected head and shoulders of the Clansman. “Whether he’s showing it or not, Silent has got to be feeling the effects of the Hardcore champion’s brutal offense!”

 

The ring mics pick up disturbing snatches of conversation from the ring as the Hardcore champion wails away on the Silent One…

 

“Come on, Drazon!” breathes the Slaughterer between punches. A small welt has risen over his scarred left eye, but Silent only smiles as JD pounds away. “HIT ME! SWING, you soft little bitch! Hahahaha!” The Slaughterer pauses briefly as a sudden forearm shot from JD opens a cut on his lip. Silent’s eyes light up as he tastes his own blood…and spits some of it back into Drazon’s face! “COME ON, MOTHERFUCKER! Let’s see what you’ve got!”

 

“Unbelievable!” breathes Riley as Jamie’s eyes widen just a little bit. “Silent isn’t even TRYING to protect himself! He’s just egging the Hardcore champ on! That man has balls, Stevens. Balls of steel. He must have such an enormous-”

 

”I don’t think I want to hear that word from you, Bobbi.”

 

”What are you talking about-wait. WHAT did you just call me?”

 

“I said, Silent’s taking quite a beating in there…wait, reversal!”

 

As Jay Dawg brings his arm back for another assault, Silent swings his left leg up and hooks JD’s arm! Surprised, Drazon’s eyes widen a little bit more as Silent hooks his right arm in the same fashion and pushes forward, pinning JD’s shoulders to the mat with a modified version of a sunset flip!

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

TH…Jamie kicks out easily and rolls to his feet, his eyes darting right and left, searching for a weapon as the Silent One stands.

 

“I think the champ’s about to go for some of those ringside weapons, Stevens! Listen to that Green Bay crowd! They know what’s about to happen!”

 

Indeed, the Resch Center is slowly getting louder as Jamie Drazon approaches his opponent. Jay Dawg feints to the left, and then quickly darts to the right, barreling full speed towards the timekeeper’s table and the steel chair behind it…

 

…

…

 

…And Silent grabs a headlock to stop him?

 

”That’s…odd,” notes Riley as Drazon, only momentarily surprised by his opponent’s tactics, instinctively begins to jockey for position. “I sort of expected some punching right there…or a chair shot…or some thumb tacks…maybe a knife or a club of some sort…”

 

Silent spins quickly to the right, around the Hardcore champ’s flank, and takes him to the mat with a textbook single-leg trip. “Does Silent know that the match is no-DQ, Mark?” Bobby wonders as the Clansman skitters on all fours around to Jamie’s head, where he latches on with a front chauncery. The crowd is just as confused as Riley, their anticipatory shouts now reduced to a dull buzz as Drazon fights against Silent’s hold, eventually gaining his feet.

 

“I think I know what Silent’s doing, Bobby. Jay Dawg’s major strength lies in his twisted imagination, and the vicious hardcore mentality that springs from it…but…if Silent keeps JD on the mat, and away from the familiar chairs and tables that surround the ring…then his opponent’s greatest strength has been neutralized!”

 

”You know what, Mark? I still think he doesn’t know that the match is no-DQ. The Silent One is a bad, bad man, and he’s going to do some bad, bad things in this match. He’s just…warming up!”

 

Stevens shrugs. “Whatever you say, Bobbi.” Riley winces as ‘Grand Slam’ invokes the hated nickname, momentarily silencing his irritating companion. “Anyway, Silent ‘warms up’ to Jay Dawg with that arm drag takedown…”

 

And indeed he does. The Slaughterer takes his opponent back to the canvas with an arm drag, and looks to cinch in an armbar early in the match…but JD rolls through it and over top of his opponent, and suddenly, Silent is the one trying to block an armbar! Before Jamie can get a firm hold of his wrist, however, Silent pulls his arm away and springs to his feet, taking hold of Jay Dawg’s right leg as he stands. He spins to the right and falls to the mat, looking for a side leg lock…JD rolls through it, and counters with a leg lock of his own…Silent rolls through THAT leg lock, and counters with another…JD rolls through it AGAIN, and aims a quick kick at Silent’s back, but the Slaughterer sees it coming, and manages to kip up and over it in an impressive display of agility! The two opponents, at a vertical base again, circle each other, both a little more certain of the other’s offensive and defensive capabilities.

 

“Bobby, I retract my earlier statement…that was quite the display of wrestling acumen there…and from the Hardcore champion and a Clansman, of all people!”

 

”Don’t look so surprised, Mark; it’s rather unbecoming. I’m surprised you forgot: before he debuted in the SWF, Jamie Drazon was trained in a variety of martial arts, and he has had substantial success on the shoot-fighting circuit! He’s no slouch on the mat, and he can go the distance with Silent if he thinks it’s necessary…”

 

Silent raises his hands, palms facing outward, offering the Hardcore champion a test of strength…JD reluctantly obliges, grasping first the Clansman’s left hand, then his right. Once a firm grip has been established by both men, they slam their shoulders against each other, each looking for a sign of weakness in the other…Silent pulls Drazon’s arm between his legs, looking for an early Pumphandle Exploder, but Jay Dawg wisely transitions to a waistlock to avoid it. The Silent One moves to counter the waistlock, and Jamie responds by raising his arms and wrapping them around Silent’s throat, maintaining his advantage with a choke sleeper. Silent instinctively drops his chin and tries to roll out of the hold, but Jay Dawg holds on as his opponent drops to the mat, and ends up getting a reverse chinlock out of the exchange. The Hardcore champ’s eyes widen ever so slightly as a loud “BOR-ING!” chant breaks out in the front row.

 

“The Green Bay fans are letting these two know just what they think of these in-ring shenanigans, and I’m inclined to agree with them! We came here expecting blood, and a lot of it! What is this…this…this frickin’ WRESTLING thing that they’re doing?”

 

“It’s what the sport was meant to be, Bobbi, and I’m just as surprised as you are by the direction this match has taken. Silent went to the mat early to take JD out of his element, but the Hardcore champion’s shoot-fighting background has allowed him to hold his own thus far, leaving both men on a level playing field…for now, anyway.”

 

As Bobbi and ‘Grand Slam’ banter relentlessly back and forth, the Clansman manages to slip out of the chinlock and pull JD’s right arm behind him as he darts to the right, forcing Drazon face-down onto the mat using the pressure from the hasty hammerlock. After tightening his hold on Drazon’s arm, Silent pushes off the mat with both legs, and drives his left knee into JD’s shoulder before rolling away and allowing the champion to get to his feet. Perturbed that the rookie got the first shot in, Jay Dawg kips up from the mat and charges the Silent One, perhaps attempting a lariat, but Silent sidesteps Jamie’s rush and grabs a sleeper hold on the way past. Not wanting to hold still long enough for Drazon to counter, Silent swings around Jamie’s left and cinches him up for a suplex, but Jay Dawg fights it, trying to counter with a suplex of his own!

 

For a long moment, the two athletes strain against each other, neither one having a strength advantage sizable enough to lift the other off his feet. Silent plants himself firmly on the mat, and hoists with renewed effort…and Jamie Drazon falls back out of the imminent suplex, spinning quickly to his left and locking Silent’s left leg between his own! Jay Dawg tries to pull Silent to the mat, where he can use his leverage to maneuver the Slaughterer into position for his trademark crucifix kneebar…but Silent pirouettes gracefully on his entangled left leg, twisting slightly out of Jay Dawg’s grasp, and drives the toe of his boot into the Hardcore champion’s forehead! Jamie lets fly an indistinguishable curse and rolls away, letting the Silent One stretch his left leg out slightly as his opponent rolls to his feet, his heavily-lidded blue eyes open just a little bit more.

 

“That’s two telling blows that Silent has scored against Jay Dawg so far! Jamie’s no slouch when it comes to technical wrestling, Riley, as you pointed out earlier, but his Hardcore title run has left him a little bit rusty on the mat, and if Silent can continue to dictate the pace of this match and keep the Hardcore champion away from any of his ringside weaponry, I think he’s got a pretty good shot at winning.”

 

The Silent One smiles as Jay Dawg tenderly rubs his forehead. The two combatants approach each other for a third time in the center of the ring…and Jay Dawg bolts for the timekeeper’s table once more! The crowd actually cheers him on, eager to see some hardcore violence between the two men…but Silent stops JD cold with a Burning Lariat to the back of the head just as Drazon puts his right leg through the ropes! The Green Bay crowd, experiencing a collective case of chairshotus interruptus, boos Silent soundly as JD crumbles to the mat in a heap.

 

”A surprising mistake by the veteran Jay Dawg, turning his back on his opponent,” says Stevens as Silent drops to the canvas for the cover.

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

Jay Dawg easily gets his shoulder up, but the Hardcore champion seems a little dazed as the Slaughterer lifts him to his feet.

 

“It’s going to take a lot more than that to put Drazon away,” observes Stevens, “But it’s looking more and more like Silent is going to control the match as long as he can keep JD in the ring.”

 

“You know, I’ve always thought that Jamie was a rather one-dimensional wrestler,” scoffs Bobbi, affecting a mildly intellectual tone. “If Silent keeps those chairs and tables and other miscellaneous objects away from Jay Dawg, I believe I shall have to concur with your analysis, my good man.”

 

Stevens sighs. “Riley, repeating what I say and adding more syllables to it doesn’t make you a good play-by-play man. It makes you an asshole.”

 

”…Oh.”

 

The Silent One brings his opponent back to the center of the ring and goes into a collar-and-elbow tie-up…Silent pulls JD towards him, looking to send him across the ring with an Irish whip, but Jamie reverses it and meets his opponent with a stiff elbow to the side of the head, stunning the Slaughterer and knocking him back a step. Jay Dawg quickly steps back and measures his opponent before loosing a deadly roundhouse kick…that the Silent One promptly ducks!

 

The Clansman darts behind JD and throws Drazon’s right arm over his shoulder and grabs hold of his jeans with the other hand, trying to lift the Hardcore champion for the Black Sky Special…

 

“Silent’s looking for that Backflip Slam that was popularized by Kurt Angle early in his WWE career, but JD’s doing his best to block it!” shouts Stevens.

 

Jay Dawg manages to squirm free of his opponent’s grasp as Silent lifts him into the air, instead landing deftly behind the Silent One. The Slaughterer turns, preparing to counter whatever assault the champion has in mind…

 

CRACK!

 

“Sweet Tooth Loosening!” screams Bobbi, and the crowd actually begins to rally behind Jay Dawg as Silent stumbles across the ring and back into the ropes, a thin trickle of blood streaming from his nose.

 

“I don’t care how tough the Silent One is, nobody can take a kick to the temple like that and not be dazed by it!” says Stevens. “I’m surprised that Silent is even standing at all!”

 

His opponent quite literally on the ropes, Drazon hurriedly exits the ring and begins to root around underneath the ring apron, looking for some implement of destruction or other. “An absolutely SWANK roundhouse kick from Jay Dawg sends the Silent One reeling, and it looks like the SWF’s longest-reigning Hardcore champion is going for some hardcore plunder!” Riley can barely contain his girlish laughter as Jamie tosses one chair, then another, into the ring, where Silent stands waiting, a cold glare on his face as he absently wipes the blood from his nose with a free hand.

 

“Riley, you don’t do yourself any favors when you use that kind of language.”

 

”What the hell are you talking about, Mark?”

 

Mark Stevens shakes his head as Silent stoops over -unbeknownst to his opponent- and picks up one of the two steel chairs.

 

”Bobbi, there’s not a straight man walking the earth who uses the word ‘swank’ in a sentence and sincerely thinks he’s cool when he does it.”

 

Riley glares angrily at his co-announcer as Jamie slides into the ring and grabs one of the steel chairs…only to find that Silent has one of his own!

 

”MARK! I thought you said you weren’t going to make those JOKES anymore!”

 

”I lied, Bobbi.” Stevens clears his throat. “Silent’s initial plan seems to have failed him, so let’s see how he fares against the Hardcore champion in Drazon’s favored environment…”

 

”I’ll tell you how he’s going to fare,” pontificates Riley. Jay Dawg charges the Slaughterer and swings…Silent drops his chair and rolls to the left, dodging the oncoming steel by mere inches! “He’s going to catch a hardcore ass-whipping, courtesy of the greatest Hardcore champion of all time-stop LAUGHING at me, Mark!- to repay the fans for all that awful headlockery they were subjected to at the hands of the Silent One just a few moments ago! A cold, cold bastard, he is…”

 

Jay Dawg uses the momentum from his first swing to spin himself fully around and surprise the Clansman with a second shot from the steel chair…but Silent shuffles backwards, avoiding JD once again by the smallest of margins! Jamie lets loose a clipped scream of frustration as he hurls the chair at Silent with all his might, only to see the Clansman duck once again, and the chair flies harmlessly over the top rope, landing next to Bobbi Riley with a loud CLANG!

 

“Jesus, Bobbi, calm down. It was a good eight feet away from you.”

 

”I’m perfectly calm, Mark.”

 

”I saw you jump, you pussy.”

 

”You didn’t.”

 

”Sure…”

 

Silent rises from his crouch and smirks at his opponent, who stands in the center of the ring, chest heaving. Sensing his opponent’s frustration, the Silent One approaches, looking to capitalize on Drazon’s frenzied state of mind…

 

…And stops abruptly, as Jamie Drazon’s crystal-blue eyes fly open.

 

“Woohoo! The crazy train is leaving the station,” hollers Bobbi, and the Green Bay crowd begins to wake up as Jay Dawg’s wide-eyed visage is displayed on the Smarkstron. “All aboard that’s going aboard!”

 

The Silent One realizes what JD’s wide-eyed stare means, and he tries desperately to backpedal away from the enraged champion, but Jamie sends Silent crashing to the mat with a swift leg sweep! Before the Clansman can get his bearings, Jay Dawg leaps into the air and comes down with his knee flush against Silent’s already bleeding nose!

 

“Silent’s mind games seem to have backfired, Riley, and the SWF Hardcore champion is running on all cylinders here!” shouts Mark Stevens. Silent scrambles to his feet, one hand raised to his face, trying to stem the bleeding…

 

CRACK!

 

And he’s met with a vicious chair shot from the Hardcore champion, drawing a tremendous pop from the Wisconsin crowd!

 

”What a shot!” exclaims Bobbi…but Silent stands his ground!

 

JD swings again…

 

CRACK!

 

And again…

 

CRACK!

 

And once again,

 

CRACK!

 

The Slaughterer finally collapses to one knee, stunned by the brutality of Jay Dawg’s assault…stunned, but not down for the count. Drazon seems to realize this, and, after positioning his chair just so on the mat, he circles around the disoriented Silent One…

 

“Jamie Drazon on the offense now, and he’s got to move fast if he wants to put the Silent One away!”

 

”Bah, humbug, Mark! Those were some delightfully sickening chair shots, to be sure, but Silent is a lot tougher than JD realizes! A steel chair isn’t nearly enough to put the Slaughterer down!”

 

The Hardcore champion pulls Silent to his feet and hooks on a full-nelson. JD’s eyes roll back in his head as he turns the Clansman around, with the chair to his back…before snapping his body backwards and drilling Silent’s head into the folded steel chair with a brutal Dragon Suplex!

 

”COVER!” shouts Grand Slam as Jay Dawg bridges back…

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

Silent smoothly kicks out, much to referee Eddy Long’s surprise! The crowd murmurs, slightly awed, at Silent’s resiliency as Drazon stands, eyes still wide-open as he puts the boots to the Silent One.

 

“Did you see that, Riley? Silent was barely fazed by that Dragon Suplex-a vicious move by itself- onto the chair! What does it take to put him down for the three-count?”

 

”Well, I think a flamethrower would be helpful…” muses Bobbi.

 

Stevens can only stare at his co-announcer, a puzzled expression on his face, as the veteran Hardcore champion pulls Silent to his feet. JD feints a kick with his left leg, drawing Silent’s attention for a brief moment, then quickly shifts his weight, spins, and CLOCKS the Slaughterer with another Sweet Tooth Loosening. Silent stumbles back against the ropes…and charges forward, looking to stop his opponent’s momentum with a Roaring Elbow!

 

JD ducks the oncoming Clansman, and as Silent turns around to meet the champion, Jay Dawg doubles him over with a quick toe kick to the gut. Jamie applies a hasty standing head scissors, grabs hold of Silent’s waist, and lifts him up…then slams him back down with a powerbomb! The Silent One’s head loudly clips the edge of the abandoned steel chair as he connects with the canvas, drawing a small “HO-LY SHIT!” chant from those fans in the front row able to hear the sound of the impact. Jay Dawg rises back to his feet, and his wide-open eyes narrow once again…but not before he elicits a pained shout from the Slaughterer with a blatant kick to the groin!

 

The crowd pops big one more time as Jay Dawg retrieves the chair from the mat and lays it across Silent’s face…

 

“Sound strategy from Jay Dawg, keeping Silent on the mat!”

 

”Sound strategy? Bobbi, he kicked him in the balls!”

 

”Right! It worked, didn’t it? Sounds like a good plan to me!”

 

Back in the ring, Jay Dawg climbs the far left turnbuckle swiftly as Silent lies on the mat, too busy trying to shut out the pain in his groin to remove the chair from his face. JD leaps from the top rope…

 

CLANG!

 

…And drives the chair into the Silent One’s forehead with his own! Silent rolls fast to his right and out of the ring, trying to buy himself a moment to recover, as Drazon groggily gets to his knees, clearly feeling the effects of his own high-flying maneuver.

 

“Diving headbutt onto the steel chair from Jay Dawg, and it looks like the Hardcore champ has things under control!”

 

Jay Dawg stands, shakes his head a few times to clear the cobwebs, and approaches the ropes where Silent rolled outside a moment ago…

 

 

FWOOOOOOOOSH!

 

THUNK!

 

…And promptly hops backwards, cursing loudly and favoring his left leg!

 

“What the hell was that?”

 

”I think Silent’s gotten hold of that cane of his, Bobbi…if his last two matches are any indication, this is going to get ugly, fast.”

 

Drazon scoops up the chair as Silent rolls back into the ring, and indeed, the Slaughterer clutches his steel-tipped cane tightly in his right hand. The Hardcore champion charges the kneeling Silent One, hoping to catch the rookie off his guard…

 

 

FWOOOOOOOOSH!

 

THUNK!

 

Silent responds by driving his cane into Jay Dawg’s exposed ribs! Drazon doubles over in pain, and the Slaughterer follows up with a forceful blow to his jaw!

 

FWOOOOOOOOSH!

 

THUNK!

 

Jamie stumbles back, and the chair drops from his hands as Silent rises to his feet.

 

FWOOOOOOOOSH!

 

THUNK!

 

FWOOOOOOOOSH!

 

THUNK!

 

FWOOOOOOOOSH!

 

THUNK!

 

“Good Lord!” exclaims Mark Stevens as Jamie Drazon falls to one knee, blood streaming from a gash on the side of his head. “How JD is still conscious, I have no idea!”

 

FWOOOOOOOOSH!

 

THUNK!

 

A final shot to the back of Drazon’s head sends him crashing face-first into the mat. The Wisconsin crowd resoundingly boos the Silent One as he stands over Jamie, measures him carefully…

 

FWOOOOOOOOOOOOSH!

 

THUNK.

 

…And TEES OFF of the side of the Hardcore champion’s exposed head! “Good God! That could’ve KILLED him, Bobbi!”

 

Riley scoffs as Silent rolls JD over for the cover. “I’m sure he’ll be fine with an Advil or two, Mark. JD is a tough bastard…”

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

”…But that last shot DID look a little painful.”

 

THREE!

 

**DING DING**

 

”Your winner via pinfall…SIIIIIIIIIIILENT!”

 

”Retribution (Front 242 Remix) hits the speakers as Silent rolls out of the ring, a smile on his bloodied face as he snatches his coat from the ring attendant and heads up the ramp.

 

“Silent with an impressive victory over the Hardcore champion in this no-DQ match, and I wouldn’t be surprised to see these two go at it again in the future with Jay Dawg’s belt on the line!” shouts Mark as “Retribution” blasts through the arena. “Stay tuned for our main event later tonight, folks, where Chris Wilson will take on Fallout for the ICTV title, here tonight on Smarkdown!”

[Guest BA_Baracus]

The low-level light of the evening sun refracted off the fresh new modern sculpture that was the newly built 11’000 seat arena in Green Bay. The Resch Center, as it was called, was truly a testament to new age design and construction, from the outside at least. Officially it didn’t open until the aptly named ‘Tool’ started things off on September the 3rd, unofficially however the Smarks Wrestling Federation were already here and christening the new building in the only way they knew how. Violence, pyro and heavy rock music.

 

Tonight however, he wasn’t a part of the show, or even a spectator in the arena. Tonight he sat in his car and listened to the faint thrum of the music and the muted explosion of the pyro and the dulled roar of the crowds. Even from this distance he could feel the vibrancy of the energy that was emitting from the arena. It crawled down his neck, under his shirt and played with his spine, teased his heart to beating that little bit faster with excitement and made his honed physique that little bit tauter with tension.

 

Without question he knew he was doing the right thing in coming back here, to his home away from home. The call was as strong as it had ever been; the reasons for it being so again were… simply unimportant. The urge to get out of the car and walk into that glass building, down those halls and into the gladiatorial pit, to proclaim his reign once more, was burning deep, demanding to be answered, but for what he wanted, he had to wait. Wait for the right time, the right people to make their moves and for one person to make one phone call.

 

And of course, the phone in the passenger seat chose that moment to ring and demand his attention. With a slight smirk to acknowledge the irony of timing he answered the cell, his tone a relaxed reverberation. “Yeah? … Right, he’s all right with that, then? … Good. Just make sure you do your side of things, I’ll do mine. … Heh, yeah. See you in a few weeks then.”

 

With a press of a button the phone went dead and he dropped it back into the seat, a wry and rare smile on his lips, echoed by another dulled cheer from the 11’000 people in attendance as another hero made his entrance to them. In a few weeks, that would be him once again, feeding off that energy and starting down the path of becoming whole once more at the price of a little vengeance. No, if honesty were forthright, it would be a lot of vengeance and destruction and pain. All old friends to be welcomed again.

 

As he drove the car out of the arena parking lot, he realised that soon could not be soon enough, as he echoed his own thoughts aloud. “I’ve been asleep to long… It’s time…” And the crowds of the SWF cheered their muted approval as the show went on…

[Guest BA_Baracus]

The camera fades back in while scanning the riotous Resch Center. The fans scream and fight to get on camera while holding up (supposedly) clever signs.

 

“THE MAG 7 WILL HAVE RAYN ON THEIR PARADE!”

 

“I MARK FOR LESBIANS!”

 

“BO’S BACK! WHERE’S LUKE?”

 

The camera finally settles down in front of the announce table to illuminate Grand Slam Mark Stevens and Bobby Riley.

 

Riley: “Now that we have the cannon fodder out of the way and security has confiscated those annoying cheese hats from the crowd, we can finally get down to some real business.”

 

Stevens: “Not to dismiss the great action we have seen here so far, but this program is about to be kicked up a notch. And there is no better way to do that than with the long anticipated rematch between the Mag 7 and the Midnight Carnival for the tag team titles.”

 

Riley: “MacPhisto and Raynor have been ducking TNT and Frost ever since they won the number one contender’s ship at Ground Zero. Why? Because Edwin always shies away from legitimate competition and they barely beat the Mag 7 by the skin of their teeth last time. Less than the skin of their teeth even…uh…what’s less than the skin of your teeth?”

 

Stevens: “I believe a bad punk band from the eighties. Let’s go to Funyon for introductions.”

 

Funyon: “Our next match is scheduled for one fall under standard SWF rules and will be for the SWF Tag Team Titles.”

 

The arena explodes with booing as “Toxicity” by System of a Down plays over the sound system. A series of pyrotechnics pop in front of the SmarkTron as a spotlight highlights the two men emerging from the backstage curtain.

 

Funyon: “Introducing first, the challengers at a combined weight of 563 pounds. They represent the Magnificent 7 as Chilly Chilly Bang Bang, TAYLOR…NICHOLAS….THOMPSON and FRRRRRRROOOOOOSSSSSST!”

 

The two surly grapplers sneer at the negative crowd response and sashay down the entranceway with all of the confidence in the world.

 

Stevens: “Chilly Chilly Bang Bang have not worked as a tag team since defeating XF9 at Ground Zero, with TNT even holding a brief U.S. Title reign since then.”

 

Riley: “Yeah, but they can never take that away from him.”

 

Stevens: “But they did take the belt away from him.”

 

Riley: “I MEANT THEY COULDN’T TAKE IT AWAY IN THE RECORD BOOKS, YOU RETARDED SPIDER MONKEY!”

 

Frost hops up to the ring apron and steps over the top rope while TNT slides under the bottom one. The two men retreat to the lower right corner of the ring with their heads down in planning.

 

“Midnight Carnival” a seductive voice intones over the loudspeakers and the fans go bonkers. “Roller Coaster of Love” strikes up to fuel the crowd’s fire even more.

 

Funyon: “Now entering the arena at a combined weight of 489 pounds. They represent the Midnight Carnival and are the SWF World Tag Team Champions; CHRIS RAYNOR and EDWIN…MAC…PHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIISTOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

 

Three blue laser lights emanate from the center of the entrance stage to zip over the crowd as the song’s chorus hits for the first time to herald the arrival of the beloved faces. MacPhisto struts out to the top of the stage while Raynor stands suspiciously behind the Carnie leader and out of direct sight. Edwin soaks in the roaring ovation before pulling a mic out of his pocket and flourishing it to his lips.

 

Edwin: “Cut the music.”

 

The tune is abruptly halted and the fans die down to an electric murmur waiting to hear what the SWF World Champion has to say.

 

Edwin: “As Yogi Berra once said, boys ‘it’s déjà vu all over again.’ I know you almost beat us last time, but ‘almost’ only counts in horseshoes, hand grenades, and is what Thompson tells his lady friends when he can’t get the Wonder Weasel working.”

 

Amused laughter rolls up from the fans as TNT attempts to keep his cool in the ring.

 

Edwin: “To mark this momentous occasion. I thought I would do you two the privilege of changing up the Midnight Carnival entrance in your honor.”

 

MacPhisto curtseys down with a wave of his arms as the stage is bathed in an icy blue light and small particles like snowflakes sprinkle down from the ceiling. A warbling voice comes on singing…

 

“Frosty the Snowman was a jolly happy soul…”

 

The fans detonate with peels of uncontrolled hysterics and wistfully sing along. Frost’s entire body flushes a beat red in the ring as his veins strain under his skin. With a primal scream of some extinct animal, Frost dives out of the ring under the bottom rope before Taylor can hold him back. TNT sighs and follows his partner to the floor, but the enraged beast is already ¾ up the entrance ramp and honing in on the unmoving MacPhisto at the top of it. Frost bends over and juts out a shoulder to catch Edwin in the stomach, but he deftly steps to his left and….

 

***BAM***

 

Raynor leaps to the forefront with a steel chair and whacks Frost in the top of his skull. The Icelandic Iceman drops like a ton of bricks to the steel incline.

 

Stevens: “FROST IS DOWN! CCBB looked focused and ready to go, but if there is one thing Edwin MacPhisto is a master at, it’s knocking someone off their game plan.”

 

Riley: “He’s a master of annoying the crap out of people and cheating his balls off, is what the son of a bitch is!”

 

TNT vaults into frame, landing on his right leg and flicking his left one out in a superkick. The caught off guard Raynor lifts his chair to block the blow, but that was a horrible miscalculation as Thompson drives the metal seat into his face with a clang. Caveman Chris stumbles back a few steps and plops down on his rear. MacPhisto spins back into frame to smack TNT up under his nose with a shotei before he can reset himself from the kick. Edwin delivers two more palm thrusts to Thompson’s chest to stagger him down the ramp. TNT leans forward slightly, grabbing his reddening chest, giving Edwin the opportunity to nail him with a springing sidekick to the back of the head. All the while, the Christmas song is still playing and the snow is still falling to make a truly surreal scene.

 

Stevens: “I knew that the Midnight Carnival was going to have to keep the Mag 7 off balanced and utilize their quick striking ability to retain the titles, but this is ludicrous.”

 

Riley: “‘The Carnies are ludicrous,’ first intelligent thing you have ever said.”

 

Edwin hoists the fallen TNT up by his hair and escorts him down the aisle to the delight of the popping crowd. He roughly tosses TNT into the ring and slides in behind him. Sexton Hardcastle bewilderedly calls for the bell

 

***DING DING DING***

 

Stevens: “It looks like this encounter is underway, with half of both teams out of it on the stage.”

 

The music and snow finally stop and the blue spotlight fades. Frost wobbles to his feet, holding a hand to the top of his aching head while Raynor rises as well. Chris lets his chair drop to the ground as he charges at Frost with his right arm out for a clothesline. Frost twirls to his left like a charismatic matador to get behind Raynor as he rushes past. He shoots an arm up under Raynor’s extended appendage in a half nelson and then jumps forward to ride Chris’ momentum down into the ramp. The fans cringe at the wet sound of the grappler’s face crushing into cold metal.

 

Stevens: “Frost utilizes his new pet move of the half nelson bulldog to exact a small measure of revenge on Raynor.”

 

Riley: “And rightfully so, the little twit hit him with a steel chair after all.”

 

Frost hails down on Raynor with a few boots to the arm. Back inside the ring, Edwin mounts TNT and drives a few sharp jabs just above his eyebrow. Eddie Mac withdraws off of his opponent and allows him to recover. Just as Thompson makes his way to his feet, Edwin launches himself at his opponent with a flying forearm! Taylor reels backwards, maintaining his balance, and MacPhisto charges him again! The pattering noise of the Mac Daddy’s footsteps on the mat sound off, as Edwin quickly hones in on TNT…and is caught with a swift, flowing powerslam! The mat quakes with the pressure of 239 Flash-y and/or Panache-y pounds driving into it as the explosive one remains atop the Crown Prince to make the quick pin!

 

ONE!

 

 

TWO!

 

 

THR--!

 

Stevens: “TNT can hardly expect to get a pin that early in this match. I mean, hell, he only got a 2-count due to Edwin’s initial shock.”

 

Riley: “I beg to differ Mark…”

 

Stevens: “You beg for sex at the local carnival, does that make it right?”

 

Riley: “…that was ONE time Mark…well…twice…but still. Anyhoo, as I was saying, that’s bull, back when I used to watch him in the NJ independents, TNT would win matches in less than 6 seconds.”

 

Stevens: “…he did NOT!”

 

Riley: “Well damn, don’t blame me, I couldn’t even pay attention when I watched him in New Jersey. There was this seemingly gay couple behind me and one of them was shouting about bongs and snoochie boochies or something…the other one didn’t talk much thankfully.”

 

Stevens: “…righto. Taylor has dragged Edwin to his feet, using his fiery red hair as leverage, and hooks on a front facelock! The MC’s general struggles to escape the hold, but TNT cinches it on tight and drops to the mat, grounding the fiery grappler!”

 

Taylor jockeys for position as he pins Edwin down stomach-first with his head under his armpit. Edwin’s legs kick about, stomping the mat in aggravation, unable to escape the clutch of TNT. Meanwhile, Frost tosses Chris one last time into the guard rail shoulder-first and then trots back down to take his place on the ring apron.

 

Riley: “And look at TNT latch on that submission! Edwin has no chance! He HAS to tap!”

 

Stevens: “It’s a…headlock, Riley…a headlock. Although, I can see what Taylor is doing here, he’s attempting to slow the match down to a methodical pace more suitable to his style.”

 

Riley: “No no no! A DYNAMITE headlock!”

 

Stevens: “Dynamite or not, Edwin is powering himself up to a standing position…and he delivers a stiff elbow right into the midsection of Thompson, forcing him to release the clutch!”

 

Chris edges his way down the aisle and up onto the outside ring apron. He grasps painfully at his burnt and sore arm, enflamed just a few weeks ago at Ground Zero. Edwin darts for the far set of ropes and springs off of them at his foe. He grabs TNT on the rebound and, spinning him around completely, plants his prone skull into the mat!

 

Stevens: “A sudden outburst of energy from Edwin aids him in completing a tornado DDT! Now all he has to do is make his way over to the ring corner and tag in Caveman Chris to take over!”

 

Edwin lies on his back for an instant, then gingerly rolls over and crawls over to his partner. Chris points at his bad arm, signaling that he’s not sure if he will fair well, but Eddie Mac knows that he needs a breather and lurches at him…

 

“CHRIS!”

“CHRIS!”

“CHRIS!”

 

The audience’s collective vocals ring out for Raynor as Edwin lands in the corner, just barely managing to contact his hand…

 

***SLAP***

 

The fans erupt into thunderous cheers for the entering Carnie, who meets up with the gradually recovering TNT. The Carnival’s resident caveman proverbially skewers Thompson with a series of stiff knife-edge chops with his non-burnt arm.

 

***SMACK***

 

“WHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

 

***SMACK***

 

“WHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

 

***WHIFF***

 

“WH—“

 

The crowd stops in its ritualistic “Whoo’ing” as Chris’s arm slices through nothing but air. Thompson grabs a hold of Raynor’s opposite arm, locking it behind his back in a hammerlock! Raynor gasps in mild pain and skillfully dodges around the side of TNT to come around behind him, wrenching on a hammerlock of his own!

 

Stevens: “And the two exchange hammerlocks, displaying a rather surprising show of technical ability!”

 

TNT strides around the ring attempting to slip out of the move, but to no avail. Finally, with a quick burst of speed, Taylor dashes to the ropes and ducks down to the mat. Chris continues his running force and is sent through the middle ropes to the floor!

 

Riley: “TNT, in the most innovate, original move EVER…”

 

Stevens: “…though Bret Hart used it on a regular basis…”

 

Riley: “…just used Raynor’s own momentum against him to send him out of the squared circle!”

 

Stevens: “Frost outstretches his broad, bulky arm as a welcome to Taylor, who nonchalantly makes the tag.”

 

***SLAP***

 

Frost steps over the top rope and lumbers into the ring, staring a hole right through the ringside Edwin MacPhisto while Raynor collects himself on the outside. Eddie Mac enthusiastically claps his hands to support his associate, who slides back into the ring. Chris doesn’t even find time to stand up though, as Frost lunges at him in baseball sliding both of his muscled legs into the arm of Raynor.

 

“GAH!”

 

The Rayn Man yelps out a cry of anguish as he grips one arm across the other. Frost spins up to his feet and glances down at Chris with sadistic glee. He intertwines his fingers through Raynor’s hair and yanks him from the mat, to clasp his hand around his neck. Frost heaves Chris into the air for a chokeslam, but is caught with an elbow to the side of his head! The Iceman from Iceland drops his adversary, but he ceases to follow up, merely staggering back into the ropes and grabbing at his burnt arm.

 

Stevens: “Chris Raynor might have just saved a loss, but at what cost as he used his injured arm to break the hold!”

 

Riley: “All of these Carnies are dunces in real life you know.”

 

Stevens: “Oh, and Frost is a super complex genius I suppose?”

 

Riley: “Of course! He won his second grade science fair with a snowcone machine!”

 

Stevens: “Frost grips Raynor’s wrist in his hand, and with momentous power, swings Chris across the ring into the ropes!”

 

The Rayn Man reverberates from the elastic bands and comes sprinting back at his chilly opponent. Frost catches him by the head and arm and falls backwards, plunging him into the mat!

 

Riley: “Single arm DDT puts Raynor down…then again, one ounce of non-alcoholic beer can put him down, but still.”

 

Stevens: “Frost has the advantage, and he knows it. He doesn’t want to get too cocky though, as that could very well cost him this match.”

 

Riley: “Frost hooks Raynor’s leg. This is it! New champs!”

 

ONE!

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

THRE--!

 

Stevens: “No! Chris kicked out!”

 

Riley: “That was a slow count! I could give Roseanne Barr a sponge bath faster than this guy could count out a pinfall.”

 

Frost smiles grimly at Chris’s stubborn nature and grabs a hold of his leg to drag him into his corner. Thompson reaches out his arm eagerly and persistently shouts “Come on Frosty! COME ON FROSTY!” Frost shoots a “look” at TNT, but finally gives in, and tags in his outrageously hyperactive colleague.

 

***SLAP***

 

Thompson doesn’t dart into the ring as expected, but instead continues to stand on the ring apron, allowing Chris to regain a standing posture. As he does, TNT clasps his hands around Raynor’s arm and jumps from the ring apron to the outside protective mats, snapping the caveman’s arm across the top rope! Chris groans out a quick “AH!” and stumbles around the ring, favoring his stinging arm.

 

Stevens: “And TNT just performed a guillotine drop on Chris Raynor’s bad arm!”

 

Riley: “Oh, more TNT! I’m giddy with anticipation!”

 

Stevens: “You’re also gay, but you don’t shout about THAT, now do you?”

 

Riley: “Silence village idiot!”

 

Thompson slides into the ring and pops to his feet just next to Chris, who leans against the ropes for support. Taylor flurries out a quick series of right hands, dazing the Rayn Man more. He then leans over and grabs his legs in his hands. Taylor rips Raynor off his feet with a double leg takedown. He stretches out Raynor to a full horizontal position as his arms grip the top rope, refusing to let go in fear of dropping. Frost reaches in and slams down his fist as hard as he can into Raynor’s chest, compelling him to release the rope. Raynor falls to the mat with a thud, unevenly landing on his side, crushing his arm under the weight of his body. TNT drops a grinding knee into his midsection. Edwin, who can barely take it anymore, slings himself over the top rope and…is stopped by the referee! Edwin tries to struggle past the official as the heels use this distraction to their advantage with both of them stomping and pounding Chris in their corner. Taylor grabs his arm for what seems like another Irish-whip and slings his opponent past him with the move, only to hang on and stop Chris dead in his tracks! Raynor’s arm hyperextends as his body continues to forge forward. A quick yank by the dynamite warrior floors him to the mat.

 

Stevens: “Can you believe this!? Have some heart Taylor!”

 

Riley: “No thank you, he’s full of evil and villainy.”

 

Stevens: “And look at this! TNT is literally STANDING on Raynor’s arm! He’s 267 pounds! Get him off ref!”

 

The referee initiates a five-count, as Thompson mercilessly grind his heels into the shoulder and arm of his opponent.

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

THREE!

 

“Why are you counting?”

 

“Release the hold TNT! Release it, or I will be forced to disqualify you!”

 

“Hold? What hold?” TNT looks dumbfounded to his left and right.

 

“You are STANDING on his ARM!”

 

“Am I?”

 

FOUR!

 

“Release!”

 

“OoOoOoOhhh…THIS hold” Taylor implies as he slogs on top of the Carnie’s shoulder.

 

“YES! RELEASE!”

 

“Well…ok.”

 

Thompson hops off of his opponent, and smiles maliciously. His work evidentially done, Taylor tags in the hulking mass that is Frost once more.

 

***SLAP***

 

Frost reenters the ring by stepping over the top rope and jerks Raynor back to his feet by his severely punished arm.

 

Stevens: “Frost sticks to the established game plan by working Raynor over with an arm wringer.”

 

Riley: “Jerk it out of the socket and beat him in the head with it!”

 

Stevens: “I don’t want to hear you talking about ‘jerking’ and ‘beating.’”

 

Frost wrenches down on the arm as Raynor turns a pain racked face to his partner in the corner. Edwin claps his hands to rally his friend and the crowd follows suit.

 

Riley: “OOO…clapping. Why don’t they just go into the tomahawk chop for all the good it will do them.”

 

Raynor gallops around the ring, pumping his fist at the crowd and blocking out the throbbing in his arm, despite Frost’s merciless yanking at it. Fearing the Rayn Man’s comeback, Frost whips Chris into the ropes to knock him off guard and ducks for a backdrop. Raynor pulls short on his run and catches Frost in the face with a knee lift. The fans explode with cheering as Chris falls to the mat next to Frost on the force of his own blow.

 

Stevens: “Clapping wouldn’t do him any good, huh? Fan support doesn’t count for anything, huh? I’ve got some ocean front property in Arizona you can buy.”

 

Riley: “WOULD YOU SHUT UP AND CALL THE MATCH! Man, look at…that…lying around.”

 

Edwin reaches over the ropes begging for the tag, but Chris pushes himself up to his knees and points for Edwin to position himself down the canvas. MacPhisto shakes his head, but moves down the apron to stand on the first rope. Raynor teeters up to his feet and pulls Frost up by his left shoulder.

 

Stevens: “Raynor finds his second wind, although that arm is far from fine. He needs to make the tag, but seems to have something else in mind.”

 

Riley: “In his mind, I’m sure it will get lost before he can pull it off.”

 

Raynor whips Frost into the near ropes and then backs up as Frost ricochets toward him. Chris bends over to catch Frost in the stomach with his head and arms and then flings him straight up in the air. As Frost plummets to the mat on the flapjack, Edwin vaults up to the top rope and smacks Frost in the face with a springboard dropkick as he sails by. The big man snaps back and crumples to the mat in an awkward heap.

 

Stevens: “THE TOSTER OVEN! A DAZZLING MOVE AS EDWIN MAKES THE TAG PROPER TO COME IN!”

 

Riley: “Those stupid Carnies will never learn that substance is better than flash and flair. Look at Raynor’s arm just dangling by his side! Straight forward, precise working by the Mag 7 is going to take this one in the end.”

 

Edwin prances around the ring as the fans pop. Frost holds his jaw as he ascends groggily to his knees. MacPhisto calmly struts up to his opponent and gives him two swift slaps to either side of his face before catching him in the side of the head with a roundhouse kick to put him down.

 

Stevens: “Cocktail of Shame floors Frost again and the fans absolutely love it.”

 

Riley: “I wonder how well Raynor loves Edwin taking all the accolades after he just took the ass kicking?”

 

Edwin makes a standing skip into the air and plops down onto Frost’s back with a vertical splash. He grabs the big man’s ankle and locks in a half crab. MacPhisto pulls back as far as he can in wrenching the leg of the big man. Frost thrusts himself up by his left arm and brings his right arm up and over the leaning back Edwin to hook him around the throat.

 

Stevens: “Frost applies a makeshift chinlock as we have a very odd human puzzle tangled up on the canvas.”

 

Riley smiles wistfully as one can only imagine what situations his mind is conjuring up. Mark notices Bobby’s creepy look and tries to cover.

 

Stevens: “Man, look at…that…laying around.”

 

Frost’s heavily muscled arm proves too much for Edwin to fight against as he releases his hold on Frost’s leg and rolls off. Both men race to their feet, but the speedier MacPhisto reaches his first and knocks Frost off guard with a knee lift to his jaw. Edwin follows by grabbing the Icelander by his left wrist and whipping him into the far ropes. However, Frost reverses and runs Edwin into a crunching short arm clothesline that puts both men down.

 

Riley: “PULL OUT THE EARMUFFS, EDWIN, HELL FREEZES OVER!”

 

Frost scrambles for the sloppy cover.

 

ONE!

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

TH-

 

Stevens: “NO! The double champion lifts his shoulder. Frost stands up while pulling Edwin with him. The two men are standing back to back…and…IT CAN’T BE!”

 

Riley: (singing) “You spin me right round, baby, right round, like a record player, right round….”

 

Frost twirls MacPhisto around on his back in the airplane spin. The blurred arena whizzes past Edwin’s field of vision before he goes flying and twisting through space to slam on the mat. Frost bounds into the air and revolves around to come booming down with a leg drop to MacPhisto’s chest.

 

Stevens: “Frost hooks the leg.”

 

ONE!

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

THRE-

 

Riley: “Foot on the ropes! Damn! I have got to start a referendum to repeal that.”

 

Stevens: “Frost tags his partner and Thompson slingshots over the ropes with a knee to Edwin’s chest! ANOTHER COVER!”

 

ONE!

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

THRE-

 

Riley: “THAT’S CHEATING! I’m positive you can’t put your feet on the ropes twice in a row. SOMEBODY BRING ME A RULE BOOK!”

 

TNT lifts MacPhisto up by his hair and crisply whips him into the far ropes. Edwin shifts to strike the strands as near to his corner as he can and holds a hand out to catch Raynor’s. MacPhisto ducks under a Thompson clothesline as Chris marches into the ring. Thomspon is shocked by a big boot from Raynor as Edwin dashes back to him and springs into the air. He hooks Thompson’s head under his armpit as he soars by and rips TNT off his feet and down onto his knee as he sits out.

 

Stevens: “MIDNIGHT SPECIAL!”

 

Riley: “HE’S ILLEGAL REF! GET EDWIN OUT OF THE RING!”

 

Frost charges in and Hardcastle moves to block him. Noise riffs through the crowd as a steely figure with a baseball bat jumps over the guardrail from the audience.

 

Stevens: “IT’S CHRIS WILSON!”

 

Wilson slides into the ring and deftly up to his feet behind Raynor.

 

***WHAM***

 

Stevens: “Wilson just wrecked Raynor’s bad shoulder with that bat!”

 

Riley: “I’m not seeing any of this, nothing illegal is going on!”

 

Edwin lunges at Wilson with a dropkick and catches him full in the chest. The Mag 7 leader blasts through the ropes to the floor. Edwin jumps to his feet and charges for the ropes.

 

Stevens: “TOPE SUICIDA! Edwin splats his hated rival on the floor, but what about Raynor?”

 

Edwin pulls Wilson to his feet and the two men trade wild punches as TNT capitalizes in the ring with a fujiawara armbar to Raynor. Frost steps back to the apron with a smug grin as Hardcastle turns around.

 

Stevens: “THIS IS THE SAME MOVE CHRIS TAPPED TO AT WAR GAMES!”

 

Riley: “YEAH! It must be Thanksgiving, because that turkey is done.”

 

As blood-curdling screams escape his lips, Raynor pounds the mat and Sexton has no choice be to call for the bell. Frost jumps down from the apron and blindsides Edwin with a running forearm.

 

***DING DING DING***

 

Funyon: “Here are your winners and NEW tag team champions. CHILLY…CHILLY…BANG…BANG!”

 

TNT rolls out of the ring and grabs the tag belts before heading for the entranceway. Wilson and Frost back up the ramp, pointing and yelling at Edwin as Thompson joins them. Wilson holds the two men’s arms up in the air as they hoist up a tag belt apiece.

 

Riley: “The master manipulator brings it on home for his boys. He got Edwin to leave his partner alone. He has just shown Raynor that everything he has been saying about Edwin’s selfishness is TRUE!”

 

MacPhisto thinks about charging after the trio, but instead goes to check on Chris. Raynor rolls around on the mat, holding his damaged arm. Edwin tries to tend to him, but Raynor pushes him off and screams angrily.

 

Stevens: “Raynor seems none too happy about the outcome. Although we have new champs, this match might have more lasting effects on the former titilists more than we can know. We’ll be back after this.”

[Guest BA_Baracus]

The camera is back on and it catches all the screaming fans with signs up, cheering, chanting ‘SWF’ and other obscenities. The camera goes up and down the ramp, catching the kids, the guys with a pop bellies and beer in their hands… And wearing scantly clothing are women. The camera switches to see Mark and Riley sitting right in the announce table

 

“The match coming up right now will be a good one, two different styles, hell, two different sexes goes head-to-head.” Stevens said, starting out his announcing dominance.

 

“That is true, two different styles, although the sex difference is never a factor in SWF, it’s the quality of your skill, and that’s where Annie lacks and Bo dominates…”

 

“And you got this conclusion how?”

 

“Look at them, look at the size, the power, the height difference and the weight difference. Bo is nearly a foot taller than Annie and over 120 heavier than her. The experience factor goes towards Bo and of course the aggressiveness as well… And the Hardcore factor, Bo defeated Grimedogg numerous times and he was the Hardcore Prince, Bo then became the Hardcore champion and thus called himself the Hardcore God. Bo has become the second person right after G.O.A.T, is SWF history to become double champion, a fete that Annie has yet to discover.”

 

“Granted, but Bo has yet to taste Main Event dominance and that is where he lacks.”

 

“But he has tasted Main Event competition and that’s where he has the advantage over Annie… Annie’s quickness will be a factor in the early goings, but once the match starts, Bo will dominate with his power, and I saw him training, he is a different person.”

 

“We’ll see.” Mark Finally ended the conversation.

 

The lights dim, The Tron awakes as Bo appears on the Tron saying: “I will not fall, I will stand tall, ya all are underneath me…” After that an Explosion blast right in front of the stage, after that explosion Bo continues to speak as he said the words: “I’m from the home of 9/11, the place of the lost towers, regardless of that we never lose power”. Another explosion comes and that’s when “New York City” by Cam’ron and Jay-Z hits. After the smoke clears, standing right where the explosion was at is Bo…

 

“And making his in-ring return, weighing in at 285 pounds hailing from the Bronx in New York City, representing Creative Control, PPPEEERRRFFFEEECCCTTT BBBOOO!!!” Funyon announced with full pleasure.

 

Bo has his head lowered to the ground, after a few seconds of that, he looks up, hearing all the boos and not giving a damn as he dashes to the ring and slides in. He goes towards the near corner to the left, climbs to the second turnbuckle and looks at the crowd, he then slowly lower his head, he balled his hand into a fist and raises it up slowly in the air. He comes back down and waits for Annie.

 

“He haven’t change, just a few more tattoos and what not, but he still looks the same… He’s still, what he calls, ghetto.”

 

“And that’s a good thing… We wouldn’t want the great Bo to change…”

 

“You are so hook on him, it’s pathetic.”

 

The lights dim as a spotlight shines on the entrance curtain. The gorgeous Molly walks out with microphone in hand as she’s wearing a black Annie T shirt. She thanked Funyon and told him that she will take over from here. A rhythm guitar sequence plays.

 

“Introducing to everybody in the audience and of course to her opponent, the greatest women ever to step the ground on earth, the greatest women to ever stop foot in the SWF, weighing in at, oh no, no, no, we females never reveal our weight, from Chicago, Illinois, representing X-Force Nine, the beautiful and the sensual Annie ELECTRICCCCCCC…

 

Bobby and Mark just sits there, enjoying the introduction as Bobby said:

 

“That’s the only thing I like about Annie, her entrance is one of a kind, I thank her for not letting Funyon speak.”

 

“I swear, if I wasn’t married and faithful, I would poke her.”

 

When finished, a quick white pyro wall flares up in front of her as the music slows to a single riff played over and over. Then the Angel runs out full speed as the PA system blares:

 

"I never knew girls existed like you!"

 

Molly runs after as the lights return to normal and the rest of "She is Beautiful" by Andrew W.K. plays in the arena. Annie will climb the steps, turn to face the crowd at the apron and sharply point her thumb at her chest in a cocky manner.

 

“Look at Bo, even he’s impressed with her entrance.” Bobby said pointing at the perfect one…

 

 

 

The camera quickly shifts to catch Bo reaction of the entrance and he has a big ass smile while clapping his hands… He starts waving himself some air phrasing that the entrance was hot… Molly suddenly tosses Annie a mike and that’s when she said: “Smarkdown was a fluke, but tonight I’m going to show CC how a women really gets down, so JD, watch this match because that Hardcore title belongs to me.”

 

Bo smiles at Annie’s comment as Annie gets down, the referee goes in the middle of the ring and signals for the start of the match.

 

‘Ding, Ding, Ding’

 

They walk towards each other, as Annie has to look up at this monster, Bo looks down at the cute Annie and throws her a kiss, he backs up and begins to step around the ring, waving Annie to come on and get some… Annie does look to happy as they get closer for a lock up, was the attempt happened, Annie quickly goes behind him in a waste lock, drops to her knees and is about to trip Bo when Bo quickly turned around and Annie is face to face with Bo’s groin area. Annie looks up and she sees a big smile on his face.

 

“Now that’s what I’m talking about, Bo being quick enough to get him in a position that every man dreams off.”

 

Annie quickly gets up and backs off, and walks towards the left, still staring a hole through Bo as he just stands there and smiles. Annie now takes a step forward with her hands up for a lock up, Bo still stands there and smiles. They’re about to lock up, one inch closer and now they lock up. Annie is struggling for position as Bo just stands there with his arms locked with hers as he smiles. He pulls her a little and then throws her across the ring. She rolls back and then stood on her knees looking at him as he poses as being strong.

 

“What did I tell you from the get go? Annie cannot go toe-to-toe with Bo, she isn’t that smart to do that.”

 

“No, I know what Annie is doing, she’s making Bo feel over confident and that’s how she can outsmart him.” Mark said.

 

Annie gets up and begins to walk around the ring as Bo just takes a step back and leans on the turnbuckle. Now Annie is the brave one and she calls Bo in for another lock up. Bo points at himself in question as Annie waves him on, he shrugs and smiles, as he gets closer to her. He puts his hands up for another lock up. Bo swings his hands for a lock up but she ducks the arms and got right behind him, she quickly kicks him right behind the leg, which caused his leg to buckle a bit. He quickly turned around and his smile faded away quickly as Annie backed up with a smile.

 

“You see Bo’s cockiness also gets the best of him as Annie is using her speed very well.”

 

“The kick to the back of the knee didn’t do much damage, that just caused Bo to get angry.”

 

“And I know personally that a angry Bo is a worthless Bo.” Mark finally said ending the dispute.

 

Annie once again waves Bo to come to get another lock up, but after a second of rubbing the back of his leg, Bo waves Annie over for a lock up. Annie shook her head no and waves him on, Bo look to his side, then to her and shook his head and waved her over again. She got impatient and slowly goes to him, trying to think what to do next. She gets closer to him with her hands up, they’re about to lock up, but before that can happen a stiff kick strikes Bo’ thigh, another kick strikes the other leg, right leg to the ribs, left leg up to the ribs but Bo catches that one, Annie hops on one leg for a second and quickly goes for a enziguri and connects Bo right on the head, knocking him down. Annie quickly then goes towards the nearest corner and makes her way up the turnbuckle and waits for Bo to get up. After about 5 seconds Bo makes his way to his feet, he stumbles a little looking for Annie but his back is facing her. Bo then manages to turn around and Annie flies off with her ‘Drop Kiss’ knocking the big man down. Annie quickly makes her way for the cover as the referee quickly goes towards Bo’s shoulder to check it as he pounds the mat.

 

‘ONE’

 

‘TWO’

 

Bo just throws her over the referee’s body and turns to the left with his hand on his head trying to shake off the cobwebs. Annie quickly gets up and takes a step back, waiting for Bo to get to his feet. Once he does she takes a few steps back towards the ropes, rebounding herself towards Bo, once Bo turned around he gets taking down with a flying forearm. She lands on her feet and quickly goes towards the turnbuckle that’s behind her. She ascends herself to the top rope and waits for Bo to get up, once he did she flew like a bird, pictures being taken, as Annie twist her body sideways and lands a flying cross body knocking Bo down to the mat again. Once again she goes for the cover and once again the referee is right by Bo’s shoulder, pounding the mat.

 

‘ONE’

 

‘TWO’

 

And this time it was just a kick out.

 

“This is how Annie is going to win this match, unfortunately, she has to do more than that to actually put Bo down and make him stay down.”

 

“Using her speed is a smart move, but she’s going to make a speedy mistake, she’s pretty fast, and one slip up will cost her. Fast girls usually go down.” Riley said.

 

Annie quickly gets up and sneaks her way behind Bo. The perfect one is still down but he quickly gets to one knee. He doesn’t see Annie as one hand in on the mat and the other one is on his knee. She puts her hands up in a prey mantis way and quickly grabs Bo’s right arm, does a hammer lock and grabs Bo’s head with the other arm to apply the cross-face chickenwing. Bo quickly got up to his feet and that’s when Annie wrapped her legs around his waist. Bo tries to fling her out of his back as he twists his body to his left and right but to no avail, the electric one has the lock put on well. The referee stays right on the hold, asking Bo if he wants to quit.

 

“This could be over right now…”

 

“When have you known Bo as a quitter?”

 

Mark looks at Riley with a retarded face and that’s when Riley said: “Never mind.”

 

Bo tries to take her out of his back but nothing he’s attempting is working as he drops to one knee. Now Annie is on her feet as the lock is still locked on with a lot of pressure. Bo’s eyes begins to twinkle as he’s about to go out, the second knee touches the mat and now his eyes closes. Bo’s other arm goes limp and Annie screams for the referee to check him and the referee does so. The crowd is now going crazy at this point as the referee grabs the arm of Bo, raises it way up in the air, releases it, and watches it goes down. The referee points to the crowd and raises his index finger up displaying a ‘One’ count.

 

“This is just too soon.”

 

“Why is it too soon? You do know that ring rust do play a factor in this business and I think that’s what’s hurting Bo”

 

The referee grabs Bo’s arm again, raise it up in the air, looks at it, releases the arm and watches it goes down as the referee’s arm slingshots up in the air displaying his middle and index finger stating a ‘Two’ count.

 

The referee grabs Bo’s arm for the last time in this sequence, raise it up in the air, looks at it, the crowd’s going wild, he releases the arm and watches it comes down. The crowd sees it going down, it’s about to land, but at the last second, the last possible second his arm stopped from falling as he lifts it up in the air. He struggles to get into one knee, then he lifts himself up on both feet and that’s when Annie wraps her legs around his waist again, still with the Cross-face chickenwing. He walks around, still struggling to shake Annie off. He then sees a corner and quickly stumbles towards it, once he reaches to it he drops to his knees, the momentum drives Annie’s head right on the top turnbuckle. The lock was released as Annie just stumbled backwards. Bo uses the turnbuckle to help him up as he holds his shoulder in pain. He turns around and sees Annie’s back facing him as she still staggers around. Bo quickly darts off the corner and clip the back of the knee causing her to fall back and grab the back of her right knee.

 

“That Shoulder Block will stop Annie’s speedy life, watch.”

 

Bo looks around the arena, looking for help? Probably, but he still clutches his shoulder in pain as he slowly goes towards Annie who is clutching her right leg. Before Bo helps Annie up he rotates his left arm. He finally helps her up to her feet and quickly grabs the right leg of Annie, she hops around for a few seconds before attempting another enziguri, but Bo was ready for that one as he ducks. Still holding the leg, Bo yanks it way up in the air and when it’s about to come down he gets on one knee and let Annie’s leg connect to Bo’s knee as she thrives in pain.

 

“This is the break that Bo have been waiting for and he’s going to take advantage of it.”

 

“If he don't let his anger control him like usual.”

 

Bo then grabs the leg of Annie and drops and elbow on it and then applies a leg lock, pulling the knee back by Bo’s biceps. Annie screams in pain as she punches the mat in aggression, the referee goes towards Annie to ask her if she wants to quit, but she shakes her head no as Bo releases the hold. He gets up, still holding the leg as he turns her around so that she’s lying face first on the mat, he grabs the ankle, puts his feet right behind Annie’s knee/thigh, lifts Annie’s leg up and slams the leg down on the mat with a viscous knee smash. Bo then walks away to gloat as Annie gets up but hops around with one leg obvious in pain as she favors the right leg. Bo turns around to see Annie struggling to get up, he goes to her and grabs her arm and attempts a whip towards the ropes but she just drops to the mat from the pain.

 

“This is the new Bo, this is how he should have been in the first place, be a technical devil and now he’s going to show everybody else how good he really is.”

 

Bo goes down and helps Annie up to her one foot, he then lifts her up in a form of a body slam and slams her by the ropes, causing her legs to hit the top rope as she screams in agonizing pain. Bo just strut around with a smile on his face as Annie is lying on the mat holding her right leg in pain. Bo goes to her and is about to pick her up when Annie reaches up and grabs the back of the head of Bo and rolls him over for a pin. The referee was surprise of the move as he quickly tries to go by Bo’s shoulder and starts to pound the mat.

 

‘One’

 

‘Two’

 

‘T’

 

No, Annie’s leg wasn’t strong enough to hold Bo’s legs in place of the pin and win as Bo quickly gets up and stomps away at Annie’s leg as she tries to protect it but she was unsuccessful as Bo lifts her up to her one feet, he grabs the same leg that he’s been working at and whips it out with a dragon screw, still holding the leg, he places the leg right under his arm and begins to turn over, Annie tries to fight it but she’s not strong enough as Bo places his knee right on the upper back and begins to pull the leg back with the elevated single crab.

 

“Oh my god, I really don't know if she could take so much pain to that leg, I would tell her to just give up, don't let her pride get in the way and for her to think about her career in this business.”

 

“Even I know you’re not suppose to bend that way and it is better for her and of course Bo for her to quit. Why? Because she can continue to fight in the SWF and of course Bo wins his first return match and that’s great it self.” Riley said with a big ass smile on his face.

 

The referee is right on Annie’s face asking her if she wants to give up but she’s saying no. Bo pulls harder, making Annie scream even more. Bo looks to his left and sees the ropes, he looks back to see where the referee is. He sees that he’s a good distant away and slowly reaches for the ropes and grabs it causing the crowd to scream in disgrace and Annie to scream more with unbearable pain and that cause the referee to look up to see if Bo was using the ropes but before the ref can do anything Bo let go of the ropes. The referee sees the ropes shaking and asked Bo if he used the ropes and of course Bo shake his head no. The ref goes back towards Annie to ask again but once again her answer is the same, no. Bo reaches for the ropes again and clutches it making Annie scream like a bitch once again. This time the referee goes towards the other side and catches Bo using the ropes for leverage and he demands for it to be broken but Bo doesn’t listen so that made the ref begin to count the DQ 5 count…

 

“One”

 

“Two”

 

“Three”

 

“Four”

 

And that’s when Bo let go of the ropes and the hold together.

 

“You know what, I think that his time out made him smarter because he’s using anything and everything if it comes down to it, for his favor.”

 

“Even though it’s illegal?”

 

“Yup, that’s using your surrounding for your advantage and that’s smart.”

 

Bo continues to stomp on Annie and the crowd begins to get restless. Bo then goes towards the nearest ropes, turned around, climbed up so that he’s sitting on top of the turnbuckle. Bo waits for Annie to get up to do something to her, but the crowd doesn’t know what it is, the announcers don't know what it is. Annie is still rolling around the mat, and during that process she quickly glanced up and sees Bo. She continues to roll around the ring until she was like 3 feet away from Bo. With the last of her energy she darted up and cracks Bo right between the eyes. She still is in pain and can barely walk with that injured leg but she still tries her best as she punches Bo right in the gut and that’s when she grab Bo’s head in a front face lock and now the crowd screams as they know what might happen.

 

Annie is trying to get her feet settle on the mat so she can get enough strength in her legs to lift him up a bit and hit the ‘Annie T’. She tries to pull him off of the turnbuckle but her leg wouldn’t let her as a punch to the stomach stops anymore attempt as well. She stumbles back but the leg went out on her again, she tries to get up, hops around for a few second before she’s face to face with Bo and that’s when Bo flies off, grabs the head and hits the blockbuster.

 

Bo gets up and jumps in the air with joy and is contemplating of pinning Annie but decide not to. Annie is motionless at this moment and Bo gets the chance to do something and that’s when he grabs the leg of Annie, he twirls around, grabs the other leg, put them together in a number 4 shape, drops down and does the figure four shin lock. Annie is not screaming, hell, she’s out as the referee goes to her and ask her if she wants to quit, but she don't respond as the crowd begin to stand up to watch what might be the end of the match. The referee grabs the arm of Annie and lifts it high in the air and then lets it drop, it goes limp as the referee screams and indicates with his fingers a ‘One’ count.

 

He lifts the arm again and he lets it drop and it goes limp again. The ref screams and shows his index and middle fingers displaying a ‘Two’ count.

 

The ref lifts it up again and lets it drop and…

 

It’s falling………

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Still falling………………

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Still Falling……………………

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

No, she stops the arm from falling and sat up straight, looking directly at Bo’s eyes as he opens his eyes in surprise. The crowd goes ballistic as the ref asked her again and she screams and shakes her head ‘No’. All of a sudden Bo reaches forward and grabs the leg that stuck out and pulls down harder and the pain is just intolerable that she taps.

 

“For a minute I thought she would get out of it…”

 

“But she didn’t, and she just lost against two Creative Control people and will never get her hands on that Hardcore title.”

 

“And the winner of this match via submission… PPPPEEEEFFFEEECCCTTT BBBOOO!!!”

 

Bo looks at her and starts walking to her to do more damage, but before he can touch her the crowd screams as LDP runs down the ramp, Bo smiles and leaves the ring leaving Annie in the ring as LDP slides in and hold Annie right in his arms as she clutches her leg.

 

“He was trying to end her career, typical…”

 

“Oh well, the next match will end up the same as Lerrin faces Taylor and we’ll going to see another XF9 go down in flames… Stay tune for the next match…”

 

“It won’t happen.”

 

“But it actually will.” Riley finally said right before commercial break.

[Guest BA_Baracus]

Backstage at Smarkdown, Thoth sits with his head in his lap. Two consecutive losses in main event matches is weighing heavily on his ego and his conscience. He is sitting on boxes of cargo and random stuff as crew and talent pass him by, not giving him a second look. He’s not booked for tonight, yet he’s still here. Why? What brings him continually to this seeming pit of despair? The fame? The money? The glory? No. The fight. Thoth’s blood boils as the thought of taking and inflicting pain. But tonight... that is not going to happen.

 

Or is it? Thoth looks up as the technical crew discusses how the pyro is going to be used for the next match’s entrances. He pushes himself off of the boxes and heads down the hall, turning left at the intersection. One person who notices him leave is Ben Hardy, who quickly commandeers a cameraman and searches frantically for him down the hall. Turning a corner, he sees a man with red hair. Running up to him, yelling “Thoth! Thoth! A moment of your time!” He puts a hand on his shoulder. The man turns around... and it’s a woman. Hardy’s cheeks could not be redder.

 

“Oh... I-I’m sorry, miss,” he stammers. The woman brushes him off, saying, “Don’t let it happen again.” Hardy exhales as the woman turns to leave. Hardy turns around, as the space in front of him leads to a dead end.

 

“I heard you calling my name, Hardy, and I figured I’d indulge you,” says Thoth, as Hardy gets unwittingly face to face with the Balancer.

 

“Umm, Y-Yes, Mr. Thoth. Now then, why are you here tonight? Stubby McWeed didn’t book you for action tonight.”

 

“I’m visiting someone today.” Thoth turns to leave, but thinks better of it. “Have you seen Silent?”

 

“Actually, Thoth,” comes the weak-voiced reply, “I believe he’s left the building.”

 

Thoth curses under his breath, looking at the floor. He starts to nod, a concept coalescing in his mind. “Alright then. I guess... I’ll be making plans for this Friday’s Storm.” And with that, he walks off without a second glance or any additional emotional weight in his step.

 

“What a scoop!” exclaims Hardy. “Thoth threatening a showdown with Silent this coming Storm! It’s unclear as to what he wants with the Slaughterer, but we’ll find out soon!”

 

Fade to black, and then to a commercial for Soul Calibur 2. It’s like Soul Calibur 1 with walls!

[Guest BA_Baracus]

SWF Smarkdown comes back to a thunderous ovation. The camera pans around the arena, giving the audience at home a glimpse at the multitude of people packed into the Resch Center. “Once again, we’re back live for SWF Smarkdown! Just two matches left tonight Bobby, but they are sure to send the crowd home happy.”

 

“Definitely. Coming up in just a few moments, Lerrin Breggan will be facing Erek Taylor in an ‘I Quit’ match. There is a little bit of lead up, so why don’t you enlighten us with your beautiful voice,” Riley smirks as he finishes his sentence.

 

“Since you asked so nicely,” Stevens fires back, just a hint of aggravation behind his words. “Last week on Storm, Commissioner McWeed found his stash lying in the hallway, missing quite a bit of his approved product. After snooping around for the rest of the show, Creative Control found the security tape that seemed to prove a man guilty.”

 

“Hey Mark, you can’t deny the black and white truth!” Riley injects.

 

“All evidence pointed to Erek Taylor being the thief, but that is just something I can’t believe. Why would the former ICTV Champion, a true fan favorite, a good guy in all respects, try to steal some product from our own commissioner?”

 

“Are you saying that he was framed?” Riley questions. “Everyone has their own hobbies outside of the fed, so what if Erek spent all of his meager paycheck on some stupid X Force 9 memorabilia and couldn’t feed the need?”

 

“Somehow I highly doubt that,” Stevens murmurs. “I’m not saying anything, but Erek Taylor could be in a world of hurt. Stubby has marked him, and the match we are about to see is payback for a ‘heinous crime.’”

 

“Well I’m sure Lerrin is up for it. After dismantling Annie Eclectic last week on Storm, Breggan is moving on to another X Force 9 member. These two have already met, in the number one contender’s match back a few shows ago,” Riley recaps. “Now that Stubby has given the order, and the brutal stipulation, Taylor is in for a long night.”

 

“Annie held her own, don’t be too enthusiastic to give Breggan props. He fought well, but the Hardcore Queen could have won that match at a few different instances.” Riley just shakes his head, but Stevens ignores the other commentator. “Plus, being the former ICTV Champion, Erek Taylor is a talented guy who could come out here and make the big Creative Control hit-man give up. You never know what is going to happen.”

 

Funyon enters the ring, ready to give the fans what they want. “Ladies and gentlemen, our next match is an ‘I Quit’ match scheduled for one fall. Regular count out and disqualification rules are not in effect. Is everyone ready?!” The crowd marks out, wanting to see the highly anticipated fight. “GOOD!”

 

“Introducing first, standing at 6 feet even, weighing in at 195 pounds, hailing from Anaheim California, member of X Force 9, EREK TAAAAAAAAAYLOR!”

 

The energy and excitement in the arena can't be contained as the opening drifts of Trust Company's "Downfall" blasts out of the speakers. The lights transform into a show, every single bulb now portraying a different color, turning the arena into a nightclub.

 

"Can I break away? Push me away,

make me fall, just to see,

the other side of me."

 

"Push me away, you can't see,

what I see,

the other side of me."

 

"NO ONE CAN SEE ANYTHING ON THE OTHER SIDE OF ME!"

"I WALK! I CRAWL! LOSING EVERYTHING, READY FOR A DOWNFALL!"

 

As the chorus ends, flames begin to ignite until it sets off a giant explosion of pyro! The pyrotechnics leave behind a trail of smoke and only as the smoke clears will you be able to see Erek Taylor, crouched and facing the fans but missing his familiar smile. Instead, there is a crease on his brow, but it quickly fades into the charismatic grin that everyone knows and loves. The audiences cheers wildly as he makes his way to the ring, jumping onto the apron and hopping over the top rope. He does a spin, keeping his arms raised high then makes his way to the near corner.

 

“A small bit of trepidation on Taylor’s face there Riley,” Stevens points out. “For a man who’s talent is so highly regarded, he is still a bit overlooked when it comes to the main event. He should be right up there with the Edwins and the Wilsons.”

 

“And the Breggans,” Riley inserts sharply. “Maybe he is a little wary about being in the middle of the squared circle with a beast like Breggan. If you could win by pin, then it wouldn’t be such a big deal, but this is totally different. The loser HAS to say ‘I Quit’ and live with the consequences.”

 

“Introducing next, standing at 6 feet 4 inches, weighing in at 285 pounds, hailing from Cincinnati Ohio, member of Creative Control, LERRIN BREGGAAAAAN!!” Funyon exits the ring as the lights darken.

 

“Victory” by Do or Die erupts over the loudspeakers. A few seconds tick away, then suddenly the stage is lit up by white pyro, matching the music. The fans boo loudly as a broad individual can be seen directly under the Smarktron. Lerrin Breggan stalks to the ring, his eyes never leaving Erek Taylor’s direction. The smaller man doesn’t even acknowledge the fear tactic being employed though, and waits patiently. Breggan slides in under the bottom rope and gets to his feet as the arena lights come back up to full power.

 

“Just a damn bully, that is all he is.”

 

“Don’t tell me you’re still angry about last week’s staredown Mark…” Riley trails off. Stevens just returns the comment with vile glare, which shuts his partner up.

 

Breggan winks at Taylor in a cocky way as the bell rings to start the match. Lerrin takes a huge step forward, but quickly recoils as Erek jumps back. He laughs as the two wrestlers start to circle each other. Another feint by Breggan puts Taylor back on his heels again, getting some boos from the fans. The X Force 9 member moves quickly as Lerrin salutes the people’s reaction in a not-so-nice way, springing off his legs and hitting Breggan in the head with a Dropkick.

 

Lerrin falters, but regains control of himself promptly. Taylor spins to his feet from the mat, right into a strong right hand from the rookie. The former ICTV champion is knocked clean off his feet, right back to the canvas, but doesn’t stay down long. He rolls away and scurries to a standing position. Breggan charges forward, trying to hit Taylor with a mighty blow, but he is just too agile. Taylor ducks under the Clothesline and hits another Dropkick, sending Breggan over the far ropes and spilling to the outside.

 

“Once again we see the aggressive monster fall prey to his own mistakes,” Stevens says, albeit smugly. “Rookie mistake, and I begin to wonder if this guy is ever going to learn. I think he is missing one very important muscle, the one right between his ears.”

 

“Don’t sound so happy, how do Breggan’s matches normally turn out?” Riley reminds the man sitting next to him.

 

The Creative Control member gets up quickly, and raises his eyes. The only thing he has time to do is watch as Taylor runs, leaping over the top rope and dives to the outside. Lerrin is driven down onto his back hard by a risky move from the cruiserweight. Erek wastes no time though and pounces his victim. He pins Lerrin’s arms to the ground and begins to rock his face with strong punches from both hands. The crowd applauds their favored wrestler as he screams, “SAY IT! SAY THE WORDS!”

 

Breggan responds by grunting and using his sheer strength to get free. He shoves Erek to the side and stands as a small spot of blood emerges from his mouth. Lerrin grabs Taylor as he stands, but is greeted with a strong knee to the midsection. The big man doesn’t release his hold though, so Taylor retaliates with another knee, and then another. Lerrin lets go, allowing the X Force 9 member to hit a forearm to his face, then run to the rail in front of the crowd. The ref yells at the two wrestlers to bring it back into the ring, but Taylor ignores him and kicks off the railing and brings his right foot around right into the side of Breggan’s head. He flops to the ground, obviously not feeling too well after that shot.

 

“Damn nice kick there. Taylor is jumping all over the place, and he is showing some much needed intensity! I could even hear him ordering Lerrin to give up!”

 

“Yeah, I could hear it also. His ability to move never ceases to amaze me Mark, but hitting a few kicks and making someone audibly give up is a whole other matter.”

 

Taylor doesn’t rest for a second, continuing the attack on his opponent. He stomps Lerrin repeatedly, ignoring the referee’s pleas as the fans urge him on. Breggan gets to all fours, only to receive a hard shot to the ribs but still continues his rise. Taylor, seeing that it is too early to try and keep the newbie grounded, grabs his arm and pulls him up. He goes to whip Lerrin across the outside, aiming at the steel steps, but gets reversed. Breggan hurls the lightweight, hearing a satisfying crunch as steel meets flesh and bone.

 

The rookie slows the pace down, trying to give himself some time to recover from the multiple shots to his head. He slowly makes his way over to Taylor, then wraps his massive hand around the former ICTV champion’s throat. He pulls Erek off the floor and rolls him into the ring, then slides in himself. Breggan throws his arms up in victory as Taylor doesn’t move much at all, a little surprised at the ease of his comeback. He mockingly rolls Erek to the center of the ring with his foot, showing absolutely no respect for the fan favorite. “ASSHOLE” chants are heard starting, then everyone joins in.

 

“There you go ‘Grand Slam,’” Riley states, obviously proud of himself. “One wrong move and Breggan is firmly in control of the match. Those high flying antics can only get you so far.”

 

“It doesn’t make sense…”

 

Breggan bends down to grab Taylor’s hair, but he is met with a big surprise. Breggan is taken down by a Drop Toe Hold, but Erek isn’t done there. He pulls Lerrin’s legs back and locks his arms around Lerrin’s neck and right arm, holding him in a Regal Stretch. The X Force 9 member pulls with all of his might, trying to get the big man to feel some pain.

 

“He was playing possum!” Stevens blurts out. “He was lying in wait, letting Lerrin get careless! A brilliant move to escape some punishment there Riley.”

 

The greenhorn flails around madly, feeling pressure build on his lower back and neck. The former ICTV champion grits his teeth, using everything he has to keep the hold locked in as the crowd gives him strength. “GIVE UP DAMN YOU!” But Lerrin doesn’t oblige as he continues to fight the deadly submission hold. Taylor’s limbs start to ache as the counter-pressure from Lerrin’s panic begins to take its toll. A few more seconds and now Erek is also screaming in pain, but somehow he holds on, pounding his taunts into Lerrin’s ears with each passing interval.

 

“Hell, if Taylor holds on much longer he might be saying ‘I Quit,’” Riley teases from ringside. “Keeping a submission move like that on a wrestler as strong as Lerrin Breggan has got to hurt.”

 

The cruiserweight cries out one last time and finally lets go! The crowd explodes into a sea of noise as Taylor rolls away. Both men rise faster than expected, but this time Lerrin is the one who moves with great speed. He plows into the X Force 9 member with a stiff Shoulder Block. Taylor returns to the canvas, hard, as Lerrin makes his way to the corner and sits on the second turnbuckle, taking a much needed rest.

 

As soon as Erek stirs, Breggan stands up and meets his opponent. He pulls the smaller man up, in the center of the ring, and puts him in a front facelock. Breggan lugs 195 pounds straight up and holds it steady, then spins around and falls backwards, hitting his patented Corkscrew Suplex. The crowd boos as Lerrin arises, still not moving very swiftly. He looks down at his foe, then out to the fans, and then down again. They show their outrage as Lerrin goes to his knees and blatantly chokes the life out of Taylor.

 

“Dammit REF! Get in there, do something, Lerrin can’t have that illegal hold!” Stevens exclaims, outraged at the dirty tactics. “Or I’ll get in there and stop it myself!”

 

“Hey Mark, guess what! No hold is illegal today, NO DISQUALIFICATION. And everyone thinks you’re so great!”

 

“My TWO World Title reigns say I’m great, what about you Riley? SO SHUT THE HELL UP!”

 

Taylor gasps for air, kicking his legs as he tries to get out of the hold. The ref continues to yell at Lerrin, but the big man just smiles back at the man in stripes. He loosens his grip, allowing Taylor to take a deep breath, then tightens it again, starting the whole process over. The boos from the audience are almost deafening as Lerrin looks right into Taylor’s eyes. He smiles, then whispers, “Quit while you still can, this is your chance to get away clean…”

 

Erek’s response, a strong right hand out of NOWHERE! Blood splatters out of Breggan’s mouth as he falls over, no longer choking the X Force 9 member. Taylor struggles to his feet, panting heavily, trying to get some oxygen back into his system. Lerrin grabs the ropes with one hand and rubs his jaw with the other, but doesn’t do much more as a big boot crashes into his face. The fans, their sounds going from jeers into cheers, all yell in unison, “TAYLOR, TAYLOR!!”

 

“Momentum shift here, I wonder what Lerrin said to Erek ‘cause it really got him going! Whatever it was, it was a bad decision, probably made out of arrogance,” Steven declares, confident with his deduction.

 

“I have to admit, I did not see that one coming at all,” Riley gets out, barely audible over the lightweight’s supporters.

 

Breggan flies back into the left far corner, landing flat on his back. Erek continues his breathing routine, though coughing a bit. Breggan sits up, right into a knee to the chin from Erek, blooding trickling out quite liberally at this point. Taylor returns the choke, placing his boot on Lerrin’s throat and putting his weight on it. Breggan’s hands shoot up immediately, taking the brunt of the force and saving himself from a closed windpipe. The ref starts to admonish Taylor, but the face quickly breaks away and walks to the right side of the ring, then points to the fans, who are still cheering for him.

 

Taylor watches his adversary recover, waiting for the imminent response. The cruiserweight positions himself in the center of the ring as Lerrin rises in the far corner. Breggan charges with a Clothesline, which Erek easily avoids but the big man stops in close vicinity. He turns with impressive speed and gets his arm up in time to block a punch from the former ICTV champion. The Creative Control hitman kicks Taylor in the gut then pulls him in and snaps him up for a Powerbomb. Before Lerrin can complete his intentions, Erek punches him square between the eyes. Using the split second of stunning to his advantage, the high flyer tosses Lerrin almost through the ropes with a Hurricanrana.

 

“The pace has picked up here, and that is a benefit for Taylor,” Stevens affirms. “Breggan showed us something there, but the man known for running around and using his speed is a bit too much for him.”

 

“But still, a Hurricanrana is not going to keep Breggan down, and it sure as hell won’t make him say ‘I Quit,’” Riley reasons. “The one weakness I would exploit in Lerrin is that jaw, which was opened up early on here tonight. Taylor needs to realize this and not get too carried away with his high flying antics!”

 

Breggan is on his feet almost before he lands, his face skewered into a look of pure loathing. Taylor doesn’t heed warning and dashes into the fray. Unable to slow himself, Taylor falls victim to Breggan’s intelligent decision. Lerrin bends forward, then catapults the X Force 9 member over the top with a Back Body Drop, but the cruiserweight has seen this plenty. Erek grabs the top rope to control his momentum and lands feet first onto the apron, getting a pop of awe from the fans. Breggan circles around, not believing the incredible skill of his enemy, and gets hit in the stomach with a strong shoulder for his troubles.

 

Breggan stumbles back a few steps, giving Erek room to hop on top of the ropes and leap forward, blasting Breggan with a good looking Missile Dropkick. Lerrin hits the mat hard, but instinctively gets to his feet, though a little stunned. He stumbles towards the far left corner, not knowing exactly which way is which. Taylor cackles with glee, getting his fans excited as he moves in for the kill. In one rapid motion, he locks his left arm around Breggan’s neck, jumps up and vaults off the top turnbuckle, then swings around and crushes the monster’s face into the unforgiving canvas of the SWF ring. A small bit of blood spews out from Lerrin’s mouth upon impact from the Tornado DDT, but the fans just cheer all the more loudly.

 

“Erek Taylor is lighting Lerrin up! Who would have thought this would be happening?” Stevens asks rhetorically. “The former ICTV champ is really giving us our money’s worth tonight, and he even took your advice Riley!”

 

“Yeah, who would have thought that possible, someone taking my advice. And if he wins, that will be the only reason, he listened to the man, the myth, the legend, Bobby Riley!”

 

“Sure Riley… Anyways, now all Taylor needs to do is start to work on the jaw, maybe a modified Chinlock or something could work here, just something to get Lerrin Breggan to say the magic words.”

 

Erek hops to his feet, a little bounce in his step as the throws his arms up in the air. The mass appreciates him and chants “X FORCE 9!” Taylor cracks a smile, then points at the near corner. The people just grow louder as he rushes over to the ropes and begins his ascent. He makes it to the top and stands, showing just how confident he is up on the ropes. He looks down and makes sure that Breggan is still on the mat, now his chest is up and vulnerable.

 

“HOLY CRAP! This could be it, the Downfall from Erek Taylor! It is such a spectacle to see,” Stevens explains. “If he hits it, it would give him the opportunity to do anything he wants to poor Lerrin!”

 

“I tell you what, he should be down there working on getting the victory and not showboating for these fans! He could be blowing his chance right here.”

 

“I guess this is why we call him the High Flying Prince Riley, and everyone out here is loving it!”

 

Taylor crouches down, then pushes off with all of the power in his legs. He gets high into the air, VERY high. In midair, he twists 180 degrees, then kicks his legs over his head. One of the most extraordinary moves in the SWF, the Twisting Moonsault, is about to land on a rookie who thought too much of himself, except at the last second Breggan gets his knees up, giving Taylor a much worse result than he expected! Lerrin howls, obviously hurting his legs from such a mighty impact, but Taylor definitely looks worse for wear. The referee looks at the two men, both obviously hurting as Taylor scrunches up into a ball, trying to protect his potentially broken ribs. Not knowing what else to do, he begins a count.

 

ONE… Instantly, the fans show their support for the X Force 9 member, trying to give him another burst of energy and relief to pull through!

 

“Breggan got his knees up!” Stevens shrieks. “What a gutsy move by the rookie there, sacrificing his legs to inflict pain onto his opponent. I admire his courage, and it looks like he really got Taylor pretty good. I don’t’ know what can happen next, its just too close to call!”

 

TWO…

 

THREE… Lerrin starts to get up, though moving sluggishly.

 

FOUR…

 

“Why the HELL is the DAMN REFEREE COUNTING,” Riley demands angrily. “DOESN’T ANYONE listen to the rules!! NO DISQUALIFICATION, NO DAMN COUNT OUTS! DAMN PEOPLE!”

 

FIVE… Lerrin makes it to the ropes, and places his hands on the bottom strand to pull himself up.

 

SIX… Breggan makes it to his feet, and the crowd lets him know how they feel.

 

He moves over to Taylor, who is still curled up into a ball. Breggan stretches his legs out, trying to get over the harsh move executed just before. He grabs Taylor by the hair and pulls him up. The X Force 9 member can barely stay upright, trying to ease the pain in his abdomen. Lerrin grins, now knowing exactly what to do. He heaves Taylor over his head, Gorilla Pressing him high in the air. Breggan’s legs tremble slightly, but a look of pure determination crosses through his eyes and they straighten out. He walks over to the ropes and drops his opponent. Taylor’s midsection hits the ropes as he cries out in extreme pain. The referee runs over, trying to hear what he is saying. Taylor shakes his head, not wanting to give up just yet.

 

Lerrin pulls Taylor off the top rope, then just stands there as the cruiserweight lays on the mat, not able to do much of anything. Breggan rounds the ring, looking out at each section of the crowd, turning their cheers into sounds of hate and dismay. He revels in the glory of having such power over the people, then looks back at his fallen foe. Taylor sits up, then gets to his knees and is almost all the way up before Breggan zips over and plants his boot right into the tender rib area of the former ICTV champion. Erek cries out again, but still continues the match, trying to win against all odds.

 

“Erek could be seriously hurt out there,” Stevens says with a hint of concern. “And Breggan is picking at him, taunting him, humiliating him in front of thousands of people.”

 

“Hey Mark,” Riley retorts. “Taylor is the one that won’t say the words. He is making this go on longer! Its amazing how much of a shift one single move CAN do. And you have to give Lerrin credit, he is zeroing in on the weak spot, something Mr. ‘Fan Favorite’ Erek Taylor did not do.”

 

“You do have a point, amazingly enough. I just hope Taylor gives up before he causes himself some very serious damage, or worse.”

 

“All for a Bag of weed…” Riley trails off. “Well it was Stubby’s, I bet it was some good shit.” Stevens shoots Riley a sideways glance, but the heel commentator just shrugs it off.

 

 

 

Breggan watches Taylor for a moment, wondering what the X Force 9 member will do next. Nothing is his answer, as Taylor needs more time to recover than the Creative Control member will allow. Lerrin pulls the light heavyweight up and locks in an awkward, yet effective Abdominal Stretch. Taylor belts out more noise, but still he refuses to surrender even as Breggan puts more and more pressure on his sore area. Lerrin even lifts the smaller man off the ground, putting all of his weight across the injured section but it still does not good as the fan favorite just won’t give up, getting respect and making the negative noise turn full force yet again.

 

“TAYLOR!! TAYLOR!!” is heard echoing throughout the Resch Center. Taylor looks around, his eyes starting to light up once more. His screams of pain are silenced, holding them in and trying to turn it on his opponent. He swings his left arm back, trying to hit Lerrin in the head, but only manages to graze his temple. Lerrin brings his massive arm down, slamming it into Erek’s widely unprotected midsection then drops the body to the mat. Still, there is a wicked grin on Lerrin’s face, even though Taylor is starting to show a fight again.

 

“Damn I don’t believe he is still trying to fight,” Riley mutters. “This is absurd. This isn’t Lerrin’s game anyway, he should be hitting the Kingdom Come and be done with it!”

 

Breggan allows Taylor to stand on his own power, which encourages the crowd to cheer even more, but the big man doesn’t wait for anything else. Erek puts all he has into his next swing, but the grin never leaves Lerrin. He knocks Taylor’s weak punch away like he would an infant, then locks him into a Double Underhook. The monster powers Erek up into a Canadian Backbreaker, putting even MORE tension onto the injured midsection. The referee walks over, but Lerrin catches Taylor’s eyes. He gets his right arm free and drapes it over Erek’s mouth, so no one can hear him. “You had your chance, I was going to let you go early. NOW YOU PAY!”

 

The ref yells at Lerrin, telling him to remove his hand but doesn’t listen. He pulls down, wrenching the neck and abdomen. Erek’s muffled cries are heard through Lerrin’s mammoth hand, then Breggan sits down and smashes Erek into the mat face first. The crowd boos as Lerrin stands, still holding that grin. The Creative Control hitman examines his handiwork, noticing that Erek is still moving and growls. The referee looks at him, but Lerrin ignores it and brings the former ICTV Champion up.

 

“What is he going to do now! I bet he would have given up in that Canadian Backbreaker Riley!”

 

“Who knows, but he looks PISSED! Bad things happen when you piss off Creative Control.”

 

Lerrin locks him into a Double Underhook again, but this time he rotates one full time, making sure to go slow as to exemplify the excruciating agony that Erek Taylor must be feeling now. Lerrin straights up, getting another burst of sound from his quarry. He stands there, letting the fans know what is coming next. “LERRIN SUCKS” chants now dominate the arena, the people obviously not pleased with what is going on now. Breggan jumps and sits, utterly annihilating the X Force 9 member’s neck and shoulders with an ATROCIOUS collision. But Breggan isn’t done there as he eagerly gets back up, then muscles the limp Erek Taylor into position for a Powerbomb.

 

“WHAT THE HELL?” screeches Stevens. “After hitting the Kingdom Come, one of the MOST DEVASTATING finishers in the SWF, he’s going for more?!”

 

“Uhm, I don’t think Taylor is going to be able to say ‘I Quit’ after this one Mark…”

 

Breggan tears towards the commentators, but stops at the ropes. Too bad Erek Taylor doesn’t, as Lerrin throws him down to the outside with all of his potency. The former ICTV champion thuds to the ground, not moving an inch as Lerrin just glares at the body for a minute. The crowd, stunned at this remains quiet for the time being, but there is one voice to be heard.

 

“FUCK YOU LERRIN BREGGAN,” hollers ‘Grand Slam’ Mark Stevens. “You piece of SHIT! You didn’t need to do that, THAT IS OVERKILL! The Kingdom Come was ENOUGH, you’re not royalty. You don’t need to do the Royal Command to ANYONE, ESPECIALLY not someone like EREK TAYLOR!”

 

Lerrin looks up, but doesn’t find Mark Stevens. Instead, he finds Funyon, and more importantly, Funyon’s microphone. Lerrin climbs through the ropes and strides over to the ring announcer. He snatches the mic from its spot and heads towards the back, and finally the crowd begins to express their emotion. Lerrin makes it to the ramp and turns around, then walks backwards as he stares into the camera.

 

“Your winner, by ROYAL COMMAND, LERRIN BREGGAN!” The crowd gets even louder, trying to drown Breggan out.

 

“No, THAT IS NOT TRUE, he did NOT win this match,” Stevens states defiantly. “Someone get some medical help for Erek out here NOW!”

 

“So, I guess this would be a draw?” Riley questions on deaf ears.

 

Some EMTs run past Lerrin as he continues backing up the ramp. When he is directly under the Smarktron, he stops and looks up, seeing Erek Taylor’s tattered and broken body being attended to by trained professionals.

 

“THAT is what you get when you mess with Creative Control,” Lerrin starts, barely audible over the fans. “Dammit, the SWF is my Kingdom. I am the KING of this place, and my if you ever receive my Royal Command, you’ll be sorry. That Heavyweight title will soon be mine, yes it WILL. You’re ALL in my kingdom now, and its time to get KNOCKED THE FUCK OUT!” Lerrin throws the mic and holds his arms up high, blood on his chin and the picture of Erek Taylor still laid out on the Smarktron high above as SWF Smarkdown fades out for commercial.

[Guest BA_Baracus]

SWF Smarkdown returns from commercial, showing a steady shot of the outside of the Resch Center, “SOLD OUT” glowing on a large screen. The cheers of the fans can be heard, and they become visible as the camera cuts to the inside of the arena, directly in front of the announcer’s desk. Bobby Riley and “Grand Slam” Mark Stevens reside there, a background of screaming fans and bright signs behind them, as the camera focuses in on Stevens.

 

“Welcome back to SWF Smarkdown, live here in Green Bay!” shouts Stevens over the electric crowd. “We’ve had one helluva show, with matches so great that me telling you how they ended and who won who just be wrong to those great competitors who participated in them. So let’s move on to the present.”

 

“Sounds like a plan.” Bobby Riley pokes his head into the shot and the cameraman zooms out. “Chris Wilson failed to capture the SWF Title on Storm, and our heel-loving, Clan-hating commish decided to reward him for his valiant efforts with an ICTV title shot, only a notch down from the prestige of the SWF Title.”

 

“Oh, this is title is nearly as prestigious as the SWF Championship,” agrees Stevens. “We’ve had champs like Neilsen of the Jungle, Pimp Daddy Sarp, Stubby McWeed, Outcast, Axis, Edwin MacPhisto, the HVille Thugg, and of course, myself.”

 

“Aren’t ya special.”

 

“I was just stating names, Bobby. No need to get upset because you never could win one of the top two titles.”

 

“If I wanted too, I could of. Didn’t want to steal all of your glory and such.”

 

Steven nods sarcastically. “Oh, of course. And if you notice that list, how many of those men went on to be SWF Champion. This belt is truly a divine prize in its own right, and Fallout is going to be doing everything he can to retain it against his bitter rival in the Magnificent Seven, Chris Wilson. These two went at it before the Ground Zero pay-per-view and it simply turned into an all out brawl, ending in a no contest. Fallout probably wouldn’t mind if that happened tonight, though payback on the evil genius would be sweet, I’m sure.”

 

“That just be like those crafty Clannies,” sighs Riley. “Cheaters to the core.”

 

“I think that describes Wilson a little better,” corrects Stevens. “And I’m sure he’s going to pull out every trick he can trying to pry that title off of Fallout. Let’s kick it up to Funyon and get this shindig started.”

 

“You just said shindig-“

 

“Ah…..ah..ah……….Ah………ah…ah………………….”

 

Riley is interrupted as the arena falls into darkness, a low fog rolling over the arena as the crowd rises to its feet in an ovation of hate.

 

“I am the king of this city, top down, windows up, puffin like Diddy…”

 

Chris Wilson strolls out onto the ramp, looking at the crowd through his Ruby Juliets. He slowly begins to walk down the ramp, trench coat flowing as he absorbs the absolutely oppressing roar of the crowd he’s used too by now.

 

“Ladies and gentlemen, it’s time for you main event! The following contest is scheduled for one fall, and is for the ICTV Championship. First, the challenger. Making his way down to the ring, weighing in at 273 pounds and hailing from Miami, Florida, he is the leader of the Magnificent Seven….CHRIS WILSOOOOOOOOOOON!”

 

Wilson hops up onto the apron and looks out to the crowd before ducking under the robes and beginning to disrobe, chucking his coat to the side as he starts to stretch, looking up at the stage as he awaits the ICTV Champion…

 

“Summer in the City” cuts out abruptly and Rob Zombie’s “Scum of the Earth” replaces it, the crowd’s boos turning to cheers as they await their unlikely favorite. After a few seconds, an explosion rocks the arena and the lights turn to a faint green hue. Walking through the wake of the explosion is Fallout, the golden ICTV strap around his waist. He ignores the excited masses and stares only at Wilson, a sense of purpose in his step and a stone of granite for his face.

 

“And his opponent…Weighing in at 185 pounds and hailing from Phoenix, Arizona, he represents the Clan, and is your Intercontinental Television Champion…the Nuclear Weapon….FAAAAAAAAAAALLOUT!”

 

Fallout jogs the last few steps and slides under the ring, eyeing Wilson into the corner. He takes off his belt and raises it to the sky, a huge green explosion silhouetting Fallout, Wilson and the referee. As the smoke drifts away, Fallout’s neck snaps around and he stares at the evil genius while handing his belt to the official. He backs into the opposite corner from Wilson and starts to rotate his shoulders, the last subtle preparation for the upcoming match. The referee looks at both men, Fallout standing stoically and Wilson’s calm façade disappearing to reveal a slight hint of nervousness, but it’s too late to bail now as the referee points to the outside..

 

DING DING DING!

 

And calls for the bell!

 

Fallout and Wilson begin to circle each other uneasily, assessing the man across the ring from them, looking for a weakness. After a few seconds of nothing, they step in and lock up, collar and elbow. They jockey for position but Wilson’s strength advantage allows him to spin Fallout into a hammerlock. Fallout slowly twists his way around, and locks Wilson in a hammerlock of his own. Wilson strains in the hold for a moment before he forces Fallout’s arm high into the air and locks him back in the original position. The challenger lets out a triumphant “Ha!” before Fallout leaps up, grabs Wilson around the head and snap mares him over to the mat, breaking the hold.

 

Wilson is immediately up to his feet and Fallout flashes a savate kick at him. Wilson blocks it and sweeps at Fallout’s base knee, though he manages to leap into the air with one foot and gather himself, coming down into a crouch and avoiding the contact. Fallout begins to pound on Wilson’s abdomen with some hard blows, slowly working his way back to his vertical base. He eventually rears back and lets loose a haymaker that Wilson catches and holds onto, trying to force Fallout down to his knees. Fallout won’t go, snapping off a series of stiff kicks at Wilson’s knee before finally completing a spinning back kick that catches the back of Wilson’s ankle and flops him to the mat and forces him to release Fallout’s arm. Wilson scurries up to his feet and the crowd cheers loudly as the Nuclear Weapon just stares at him, preparing for another attack.

 

“Fallout just took Wilson down after that little exhibition of striking blows,” gleefully informs Stevens, “and he’s just showing Wilson why exactly he is the ICTV champion.”

 

“He won’t be for long,” informs Riley. “Wilson doesn’t like this punching and kicking stuff. It’s called ‘wrestling’ for a reason. You just wait until Mr. Green up there gets taken out by Wilson, with the Finishing Touches, in the wrestling ring.”

 

“So who are you then, Mrs. Peacock?”

 

“Shove it, Miss Scarlet.”

 

Wilson brushes nonexistent dirt off of himself and looks up at Fallout, who has his arms outstretched and hands spread, proposing a test of strength to Wilson. The Magnificent Leader smiles and takes Fallout’s left hand with his right, then proceeds to pop him in the jaw with a hard left jab. The crowd boo’s loudly as Fallout’s head snaps back and Wilson holds on tight with his right hand, whipping Fallout off of the ropes. Wilson follows, catching his opponent with a knee to the gut that sends him flipping over to the mat. Fallout bounces right back up and Wilson connects with a hard clothesline. Once again, Fallout is right back up to his feet and a frustrated Wilson grabs him and performs another Irish whip. As Fallout rebounds, Wilson picks him up for a tilt-a-whirl backbreaker, but all he finds is himself getting twisted down to the mat uncomfortably with a spinning headscissors takedown.

 

Wilson stumbles back up to his feet and Fallout slips his arm underneath his opponent and flips him to the mat with a simple arm drag, immediately getting up to his feet, getting some speed off of the ropes and performing a somersault leg drop across Wilson’s throat. He covers and the ref drops down to count ONE..

 

 

 

And barely even a count as Wilson is back up and Fallout is whipping him against the ropes. He bounces back and the ICTV Champion tries for a hip toss, but Wilson plants his feet firmly, shifts his weight and takes Fallout over with a hip toss of his own, splattering him across the mat. He holds on and reaches down to latch on a reverse facelock, but Fallout kicks back and lands the tip of his boot square in Wilson’s forehead and frees himself. He coils up then releases, kipping up to his feet and turning just as Wilson stops his reverse momentum, rubbing his forehead.

 

“It’s just sick the way these guys can pull reversals out of anywhere,” comments Stevens as Wilson and Fallout stare at each other and the crowd gives them a loud ovation as they breath heavily. “If somebody wants to take control of the match, they’re going to have to bust out something big.”

 

ZIIIIIP

 

“Well, I hate to brag, but if you’d direct your attention-“

 

“What is that, a dried up Tootsie Roll? Oh my god….”

 

“What?” questions Riley as Stevens lets out a moan and tries to find a red-hot poker to use on his eyes.

 

ZIIIIP!

 

Fallout and Wilson lock up one more time, this time Fallout twisting Wilson into a side headlock. Wilson pushes him away, sternum-first into the corner, and as he bounces back out, Fallout is lifted up into the air and dropped back onto his head with a towering belly-to-back suplex. Fallout flips back onto his stomach upon impact and Wilson rolls over and pushes himself up just as his adversary tries to do the same. He doesn’t have the chance as Wilson takes a step forward and dives onto Fallout, grabbing his head and snapping it back with a rolling neckbreaker. The Nuclear Weapon is rolled over and covered. ONE

 

 

TWO and he twists a shoulder from the mat, and there’s no rest for the weary as Wilson stands him up and shoves him into the corner. He takes a step back, one arm pushing Fallout back as he cocks back the other and fires, a knife-edge chop searing across the Clansman’s chest.

 

WOOO!

 

Fallout’s painted face contorts to a look of pain as Wilson pulls back and lets another blast fly, ripping even harder across the flesh of his adversary.

 

WOOO!

 

Wilson resets and prepares for another blast, but Fallout throws a haphazard European uppercut into Wilson’s jaw and grabs him around the shoulders. He spins Wilson around and slams him into the corner, lacing into the M7 leader with some chops of his own.

 

WOOO!

 

WOOO!

 

WOOO!

 

WOOO!

 

After the fourth chop, the skin visible above Wilson’s tank top has turned a scarlet red and Fallout promptly grabs him around the back of the head and tosses him out of the ring, the crowd popping wildly as Wilson tumbles down to the cement. The adrenaline starts to flow for the Nuclear Weapon.

 

“Fallout taking yet another advantage in this match,” calls Stevens half-heartedly, still somewhat sick. He turns to Riley. “I can’t believe you did that.”

 

Riley shrugs. “You said something big needed busted out.”

 

Stevens lets out a sigh. “Wilson pulls himself up on the barricade and he looks up to see Fallout bouncing off of the ropes opposite him and speeding right towards him. As Fallout prepares to fly through the ropes with a suicide dive, Wilson hops over the barricade to gain an extra level of protection. Fallout stops the dive, spinning back around Rey Jr. style as the crowd pops once more. I never thought I’d hear the crowd getting this kind of reaction.”

 

“Well, one, they’re kinda allied with the Carnival,” starts to list Riley, “and two, the crowds usually don’t Wilson much.”

 

“You mean they hate him?”

 

“Pretty much.”

 

The referee starts to count Wilson out as he snickers up at Fallout, pleased with his avoidance of the suicide dive. Fallout looks down at him a moment, then pulls back the top rope as far as he can stretch it and uses it to his advantage, exploding out of the ring, soaring over the barricade and crashing into Wilson with a cross body.

 

S-W-F! S-W-F! S-W-F!

 

The crowd literally explodes as the two men plummet out of sight, small fish in an ebbing sea of marks, smarts and the ever-popular smarks. Security earns their pay, keeping the rowdy fans away from the downed competitors, as the referee restarts his count, hoping to get off work rather early tonight.

 

ONE!

 

Fallout slowly gets to one knee, Wilson struggling to gather himself…

 

TWO!

 

Then wobbles to his feet, trying to drag Wilson up with him…

 

THREE!

 

FOUR!

 

He grabs the back of the evil genius’s head and walks towards the barricade, nonchalantly throwing him back over the barricade to ringside…

 

FIVE!

 

Fallout hops over himself, stomping at Wilson a few times…

 

SIX!

 

…before sliding into the ring to break up the count, not wanting to win on a technicality like a count out. He makes sure the count is at least getting restarted before climbing back out onto the apron, looking over his shoulder. Wilson reaches up and pushes himself up using the barricade just as Fallout leaps onto the second rope and flips back, seemingly moving in slow motion as the flashbulbs explode around him, gracefully coming over in an asai moonsault.

 

“Fallout’s going airborne!” shouts Stevens as gravity takes over, “but Wilson slides out of the way, and he’s got no target-”

 

“Yay!”

 

“-but Fallout pulls out of the flip and lands gracefully, dropping down into a crouch and avoiding the crash landing.”

 

“Booo!” jeers Riley as Wilson comes up behind Fallout and throws him towards the ringpost. “No matter, because Wilson’s using the miscue to his advantage, slamming Fallout’s head off of that solid ringpost with authority, before rolling him back into the ring as the ref starts to get upset with his lack of control. Get over it, buddy! The people come here to see the wrestlers, not you.”

 

“But if the referee loses control, Bobby, he may have to call for a no contest, and Wilson can’t win the title.”

 

Bobby reconsiders his statement. “…however for the safety of the men involved and for our enjoyment, the official should keep a tight grip on this match to avoid it getting out of hand.”

 

Wilson follows Fallout into the ring and mounts him from behind as Fallout tries to push himself up to his feet. For his troubles, he receives a barrage of forearms scattering right across his neck, and dropping him back down to the mat. The referee starts to count, and Wilson gets off, backing up innocently. As Fallout pushes himself up to his hands and knees, though, Wilson takes a step forward and drives his boot down across the back of neck, driving his face down to the canvas as an unhappy crowd lets him know what they feel about it.

 

Wilson grabs Fallout, one hand on the waistband of his shorts and the other clasping onto a handful of material from his shirt, and extracts him from the mat and proceeds to jam him headfirst into the ring post above the second rope. Fallout’s body stiffens up in pain upon contact, but then goes limp and Wilson yanks him back out and flips him over, covering. ONE

 

 

 

TWO

 

 

And Fallout kicks out, but the bells inside his head are ringing loud and clear. Wilson reaches down and clamps on a front facelock, standing up and pulling the champ up with him before grabbing onto the top of his shorts again. With Fallout properly cinched up, Wilson lifts him high into the air, holding him there for a moment before dropping straight down. Fallout’s neck and head are jammed into the canvas at a sick angle, the Nuclear Weapon simply crumpling upon impact. Wilson covers again, hooking the leg. ONE

 

 

 

 

TWO

 

 

T..and Fallout kicks out again, the crowd giving him a modest pop, but they’re mostly out of the match as Wilson starts to assert his will.

 

“Chris Wilson is apparently going back to his usual plan of attack,” observes Stevens. “Focus on the neck, and focus on it hard. It worked against Fallout’s stablemate Thoth a week ago, but who knows what good it will be able to do here tonight.”

 

“Fallout’s one tough S.O.B.,” admits Riley as Wilson stands up and heads towards the turnbuckle, “but it’s tough to function with a broken neck. He can’t take offense like this for long and hope to remain in the match.”

 

Wilson climbs up onto the top rope, steadying himself as he turns around to face the inside of the ring. He waits patiently for Fallout to stand and turn around, then launches himself from the top, flying through the air with the “Rim Rocka” flying knee extended. Fallout sees it coming and leaps into the air, catching his foe in the chest, midair, with a picture-perfect standing dropkick that drops him hard to the mat. The crowd pops loudly as Fallout tries to pull himself up with the ropes, Wilson working hard to get himself off of the mat.

 

Wilson wins the race and grabs Fallout in a front facelock. He lifts him up in the air again, but the Scum of the Earth starts to wriggle and twist, and Wilson can’t get him back far enough for a decent brainbuster, so he goes forward, dropping Fallout over the top rope. He holds on, trying to increase his grip for a brainbuster from the outside in, but Fallout batters him with hard right hands while he hooks his ankles around the bottom rope to hold him steady. Wilson can’t get him up and has to release his adversary, but Fallout makes him pay with a shoulder to the gut, doubling the evil genius over. Not wasting any time, Fallout springs over the top, flips over and grabs onto Wilson, pulling him down with him and right into a sunset flip! The crowd pops loudly as Wilson is taken by complete surprise. ONE!

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

TH..and he manages to pull his shoulder up from the mat, Fallout not worried by the failure of his pinning attempt as he shoots back up to his feet and grabs a disoriented Wilson and yanks him up with him.

 

“Fallout busting out some fancier pinning moves on Wilson in an attempt to seal this deal quickly,” declares Stevens, “but it’s going to be tough to take a veteran like Wilson by surprise. Nearly as tough as it’s going to be for Wilson to isolate a body part without much struggle from another veteran of many battles, Fallout.”

 

“Our big, bad ICTV champion can do as much flipping and flying as he wants,” implores Riley as Wilson rolls to his hands and knees and pushes himself up, “but in the end, when Wilson grounds him, it’s going to be a tough break for everybody rooting for that damned Clannie.”

 

Wilson staggers up to his feet, and he’s immediately met with a hard lariat that flattens him down to the canvas. He hops right back up and is caught with an Irish whip. As he bounces off, Fallout spins wildly and Wilson tries to put his hands up for protection, but it’s a lost cause as the Nuclear Weapon cracks a spinning heel kick right into his challenger. Wilson flops down to his stomach on the mat once more, and this time Fallout is getting a little more intricate, grabbing Wilson’s arm, flipping him around and rolling him up tightly with a La Mahistrol cradle! ONE!

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

 

 

TH…and Wilson manages to untangle himself before the three count and raise a shoulder from the mat.

 

Fallout hops up to his feet and grabs Wilson jerking him right up and into an Irish whip. Wilson thunders into the corner sternum-first and Fallout goes for yet another pinning maneuver, leaping up onto Wilson’s shoulders and wrapping his arms up in a crucifix. Wilson grits his teeth and lets out a loud grunt, not going down, and lifts Fallout partway up onto his shoulders. In one fluid motion, he drops down to his side and drives Fallout’s head to the mat with a Death Valley driver!

 

“What a reversal by Wilson!” praises Stevens as Wilson reaches over and grabs Fallout’s leg, hooking it, “and after that show of strength and wicked DVD, he’s making a cover. New champ? ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

 

TH…and Fallout kicks out, the crowd popping even though they realize things could be going down hill after a move like that.”

 

“Of course things are going down hill!” assures Riley. “Duh. It’s just a matter of time before Wilson and his excellent execution has Fallout tapping out to the Finishing Touches.”

 

“You think?”

 

“Oh, I know.”

 

Wilson drags a hurting Fallout up to one knee, and as he struggles to get the rest of the way, Wilson springs off of the ropes and grabs him around the neck, kicking his legs out as he twists Fallout down to the mat with a spinning neckbreaker. Fallout clutches his neck in pain as Wilson stands him up again and wraps his arms up in a double underhook. The now quieted crowd gets a reason to cheer again as some more body blows frees Fallout, but before he can stand up straight, he’s crushed from above with a double axe handle. He drops down to his hands and knees again and Wilson doesn’t hesitate to retry the double underhook, lifting Fallout up into the air and falling backwards with a wicked double arm DDT! Another cover, another hooked leg. ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

 

 

THR…and Fallout kicks out again, but the damage to his neck continues to mount.

 

Wilson peels Fallout off of the mat by wrapping his arms around his gut and pulling him up off of his stomach. The crowd continues to boo as Wilson lifts Fallout up into the air, trying for a powerbomb. He raises him into the air as high as he can…but Fallout reverses it, rolling backwards with a hurricanrana! He reaches back and grabs onto Wilson’s legs, sealing him tightly to the mat. ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THRE…and Wilson barely escapes another very near fall, rolling Fallout forward onto his stomach.

 

“Wilson barely avoiding having his bid at the ICTV title ended right there,” states Stevens, “but now he’s trying to seal the deal, slipping on a double toe hold and trying to work his arms around into a full nelson, completing the Finishing Touches!”

 

“Come on, Wilson!” cheers Riley. “Just latch that sucker on and its good night Fallout.”

 

“No one here in the Green Bay crowd wants that to happen,” comments Stevens, “and neither does Fallout as he speedily crawls over to the ropes and grabs on, breaking the hold before Wilson can even get it locked on.”

 

Wilson’s forced to release the hold by a speedy count on part of the referee, and as Wilson prepares for another cheap shot, the official gets between him and Fallout, allowing the champion time to right himself. Wilson’s offended by the referee’s strict action and decides to let him hear about it, but the distraction is enough for Fallout to pull himself up onto the top rope. The referee continues to argue with Wilson, but their discussion is cut short as Fallout cruises off of the top and rope and blasts a missile dropkick into a surprised Wilson, knocking him to the ground.

 

Wilson rolls up to his feet as Fallout climbs up to the top rope again, the crowd suddenly right back into the match. Wilson charges the corner and grabs a hold of Fallout, punching him hard in the face and trying to take the advantage away from the high-flyer. Fallout responds with some shots of his own, then grabbing onto Wilson’s head and kicking off. The two men seem to dance momentarily before a rather intrusive third partner cuts in: The mat.

 

“Tornado DDT off the top rope by Fallout!” cries out Stevens as Fallout grabs Wilson again, trying to build on his momentum. “Fallout forgoes the cover, and interesting choice, and instead drags Wilson off of the mat and into a front facelock. The crowd roars in anticipation of the Meltdown, but Wilson doesn’t go down with the DDT, instead he wraps his arms around Fallout and throws him back with a Northern Lights suplex. He bridges it! ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THR…and Fallout turns a shoulder off of the mat at the last second.”

 

“It’s what we like to call a matter of time now,” informs Riley. “Fallout’s down on the mat, and he’s going to be subject to whatever Wilson chooses, which apparently involves him standing up the Nuclear Weapon.”

 

“What in the hell does he think he’s doing?” questions Stevens of Wilson’s sanity, as he stands back-to-back with Fallout. “Wilson’s pointing to the back, and he just shouted something I didn’t quite catch. Now he’s thrusting up on Fallout’s underarm, lifting him up into the air. He’s looking for Edwin’s Union Jack, Bobby!”

 

“Hardly,” denies Riley. “He’s just busting out this modified often-used move to drop Fallout on his head again. It’s all apart of his ‘Attack their neck, and they will fall’ strategy. Copying Edwin. Puh-leeze.”

 

“Well, he’s not going to get the chance,” gleefully informs Stevens, “because Fallout just slipped down off of his elevated perch. Wilson realizes he lost his cargo, and he spins quickly on his heels to take a kick to the gut…front facelock…and Fallout’s going for the Meltdown. No, he can’t hit it as Wilson shoves him away before he tightens the vice around the evil genius’s head. Fallout goes bouncing off of the ropes, and as he fires back he explodes into the air with a flying forearm…but Wilson dives out of the way and Fallout catches the referee, knocking him completely out!”

 

“Rough break for the zebra there.”

 

Fallout pulls himself up off of his accidental victim, but he spins right into an awaiting Wilson. It’s a sharp kick to the gut to double him over, and then an unsuspecting Fallout is jammed into a standing headscissors. The crowd boos loudly as Wilson pulls Fallout up perpendicular to the mat, then hops into the air, spiking his battered neck down to the mat with a jumping piledriver!

 

Wilson sees the ref is down, curses to himself, and then leans down to grab the Nuclear Weapon again. But as he does so, the lights in the arena go out and the Smarktron™ dies a sudden death.

 

“What in the world is going on?”

 

“Hold me…”

 

“Don’t touch me!”

 

A slight bit of illumination is revealed as a pair of blue spotlights start to swing across the stage. The crowd slowly begins to crescendo as they realize what is happening…

 

“I said HALLELUJAH, to my sixteen loyal fans….”

 

“Batteflag” kicks in as the lights die, and in the ring now are four men. Fallout, down. Referee, down. Chris Wilson, staring up at the stage, confused and waiting for his archrival to make his entrance. Edwin MacPhisto, standing behind Wilson with rage in his eyes.

 

“EDWIN MACPHISTO!” squeals Stevens as Wilson realizes something is amiss and slowly turns to face Edwin. “Wilson spins, and Edwin unleashes some blistering shoteis. Wilson goes reeling back, as Edwin goes for an Irish whip. Wilson stops his quick burst of momentum and reverses it, and off the ropes comes bouncing Edwin. Wilson leaps for him, flaring out a lariat, but Edwin ducks it and skids to a halt. Wilson turns, and Edwin grabs him around the neck, sprints to the corner and runs up it, dragging Wilson along with him. He leaps off, Wilson’s neck right over top of his shoulder…SPIIIIIIINAL TAP! YEE-HAH!”

 

The crowd absolutely explodes as Edwin leaps to his feet, shouting at Wilson with fire in his eyes.

 

MAC-PHIS-TOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

 

MAC-PHIS-TOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

 

“Oh, just kill me now,” moans Riley as Wilson bounces a few times before settling near the ropes, just as Fallout rises up to his feet. “This not fair, for Pete’s sake. Hell, for Paul and Pat’s sake, too.”

 

“Fallout’s not wasting this opportunity,” assures Stevens as the Nuclear Weapon crawls out onto the apron, the crowd still up on their feet roaring. “He yanks back that top rope and lets it throw him forward, twisting in the air with a 450 splash…BEFORE COMING CRASHING DOWN ON WILSON WITH THE NUKE! IT’S OVER!”

 

“Too bad the ref is down!”

 

“Too bad Edwin’s trying to wake him up!” retorts Stevens as Fallout covers and Edwin drags a half-conscious referee towards the small cluster of humanity. “The ref looks up and sees the pinfall, then begins to slowly drop his hand…but he stops! He realizes someone had to move him over to the cover and he looks back over his shoulder to see Edwin standing there, waiting to see Wilson lose, and he shouts for him to leave. What?!”

 

The crowd boo’s loudly as Edwin points towards the cover as Fallout looks up at Edwin, forgetting all about how he’s the one that hit the Spinal Tap in the first place to set up the Nuke, but now simply remembering that Edwin’s in the ring and he’s not getting his pinfall counted.

 

“Oh this is just precious,” giggles Riley as Edwin slowly walks to the edge of the ring, still arguing with the ref. “You said this referee wanted to keep control and a sense of order in this match, and he just did, clearing the ring of outside distractions. Haha…I love it.”

 

“This isn’t right!” shouts Stevens as the crowd lets the official here it. “Security grabs Edwin and slowly walks him up the ramp, our SWF Champion battling all the way and shouting up at the ring. To Wilson, to the ref, to anyone who will listen as a rage boils inside of him. You can tell Edwin is really an intense, on the edge-”

 

“Psychotic? Insane? Mentally unbalanced?” offers Riley.

 

“-‘troubled’ individual as of late, with all of the pressure with the Magnificent Seven, Creative Control, the Clan and Silent. This conflict with the ref isn’t going to help him any.”

 

Fallout gets up and walks over beside the referee, who is now standing beside the ropes nearest the entryway to make sure Edwin is escorted away from ringside. Fallout turns the ref to face him and starts to question just why he isn’t hearing a bell ringing.

 

“I love life,” sighs Riley. “Wilson’s on his hands and knees crawling towards Fallout, who is having a lively conversation with an overwhelmed official.”

 

“Fallout doesn’t see the Magnificent Seven leader coming,” warns Stevens, “and Wilson makes good use of that, rolling Fallout up from behind with a school boy! The crowd boos loudly as Wilson pressures the champion’s bad neck down to the mat, using all of his weight as the ref drops down to count.”

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

“Wilson just grabbed onto the ropes! REEEEEF!” bellows Stevens.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

 

 

“He doesn’t see it! YEEEEESSSS!” exclaims Riley.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THREEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!

 

As soon as the mat hits the mat for the third time Wilson releases the hold and rolls out of the ring as Fallout immediately has the ability to uncoil himself. The crowd is up in arms as the referee dives out of the ring as well, Fallout up on his feet in the ring pissed off as a man can be.

 

“For a ref doing everything in his power to make sure he had order in his match,” snips Stevens, “he sure failed when it counted most, not noticing Wilson was using those ropes to an advantage. This all coming after he wouldn’t count Fallout’s pin because Edwin was in the ring. Bunch of crap.”

 

DING DING DING!

 

“The winner of this match via pinfall, and NEEEEEW Intercontinental Television champion….CHRIS WILSOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOON!”

 

The referee brings Wilson his coat and shiny new belt around and Wilson immediately clasps it on, smiling up at Fallout who’s ready to explode in the ring as “Summer in the City” kicks up.

 

“Oh, cry about it,” mocks Riley. “Bottom line, is after a very clean, orderly and controlled match, we have a new ICTV champion, and what a champion he is.”

 

“Shut the hell up,” demands Stevens. “Fallout just got shafted, and you know it.”

 

Bobby is taken aback. “Mark! I’m hurt.”

 

Wilson slowly backs up the ramp, still smiling up at Fallout as the official raises his hand in victory, ICTV belt glittering around his waist.

 

“Well folks, we’ve had a great night of SWF action,” concludes Stevens, “even with this crooked sham of a main event. We hope to see you on Storm, where we continue the countdown to Apocalypse, the SWF’s fast approaching pay-per-view extravaganza.”

 

Wilson stands at the top of the ramp, sucking in a whole lot of hate from the rabid Wisconsin fans as Fallout is still stomping in circles in the ring, fuming.

 

Stevens continues. “For Bobb-“

 

“No, I’m doing it this time!” cuts off Riley as the copyright suddenly appears in the corner of the screen. “For this bum sitting here, I’m the intelligent, witty and dead sexy Bobby Riley. We’ll see you on Storm!”

 

With a final shot of Wilson standing on the stage, we starwipe to darkness…

[Guest BA_Baracus]

"And there we see Erek Taylor being escorted to the nearby ambulance," comments Mark Stevens as the crowds watches on.

 

It's the parking lot where our scene is set and an ambulance is in the background, waiting for Erek Taylor, who is being helped by several EMT members towards the waiting emergency vehicle. He is barely able to limp, but with his last breath and strength, walks towards the ambulance.

 

"Well, Erek regained consciousness but is still going to the local hospital for a checkup. We can't be sure."

 

"Sure we can, Mark. Erek's on the shelf, I'm happy, you're happy, let's celebrate!"

 

Erek is helped into the back of the ambulance and the vehicle is about to set off when another round of sirens booms across the lot. Four police cruisers speed up to the site and two officers from each car steps out. They approach the ambulance and the lead officer is heard talking to the lead referee.

 

"Is Erek Taylor in that ambulance?"

 

"Yes, he is. Anything I can do for you, officer?"

 

"We're going to have to put Mr. Taylor under arrest for possession."

 

Shockwaves spreads across the Resch Center as the lead officer directs one of his company into the passenger seat of the ambulance.

 

"We'll take it from here, sir."

 

And with that, the officers all gather into their car and follow the ambulance, which speeds away to the nearest hospital.

 

"Now that was unexpected," chimes Mark Stevens. "Who called the cops?"

 

The camera in the parking lot scans the area and to the far end of the exit. There, a black suit can be seen watching the ambulance but when the figure spots the camera, he slithers away, away from sight.

 

"Wait, was that who I think it was?"

 

"Depends on who you think it was, Mark."

 

"Was that.... the Boston Strangler?"

 

"Hmmm, funny, I thought it was Rosie O' Donnell."

 

"Well, they do look alike, Riley."

[Guest BA_Baracus]

It is late in the evening. Smarkdown has been off the air for about an hour, and most of the audience has left the building for the night. Commissioner Stubby McWeed works late in his office, handling some random contract renegotiations on his desktop computer.

 

Stubby's door bursts open as an SWF tech comes running in. The tech tries to talk to Stubby, but pants instead, out of breath. "Stu... Stubby..."

 

"What the hell!" shouts an exasperated Stubby as he turns his gaze away from the computer screen. "Doesn't anyone knock around here?"

 

"So... sorry, si... sir..."

 

Stubby sighs. "Take a deep breath, and tell me what's gong on."

 

The tech takes a moment to catch his breath, and then starts over. "Stubby... a fight broke out in the lobby! A bunch of intoxicated fans... and I think some of the wrestlers are out there too!"

 

"What?!" exclaims Stubby. "Dammit. Looks like it's time to start doling out some suspensions." Stubby quickly stands up from his desk and bolts out the door, with the nervous tech worker lumbering behind him and remembering to close the door shut.

 

* * * * *

 

Minutes later, the door squeaks open, but it isn't Stubby that enters the commissioner's office... it's Sarah Leavenworth. The new business manager of X Force 9 closes the door behind her. "Excellent," she says to herself.

 

Sarah takes a seat behind Stubby's desk. "Now where does he keep..." she trails off. She looks around the desk, and her eyes finally settle on Stubby's computer. "Bingo."

 

Sarah takes the mouse and waves it around to clear Stubby's SWF logo screensaver. However, instead of clearing, a prompt for a password appears on the screen. "Damn," Sarah whispers. "Stubby's password, Stubby's password..."

 

It doesn't take her too long to think of an idea. Sarah calmly types 'W-E-E-D" on the keyboard, and smiles again as the screen saver disappears.

 

A few more clicks of the mouse, and a window appears on the screen with the heading: "SWF Storm Card - August 16, 2002."

 

Sarah looks it over in disgust, and then begins pressing the DELETE key repeatedly. "All right, Creative Control... looks like it's time for some creative rewriting."

[Guest BA_Baracus]

TAG TEAM MATCH

Danny Williams & Xero vs. El Luchadore Magnifico & Z

- The new Williams/Xero combo gets their first win!

 

SINGLES MATCH

Ash Ketchum vs. The Boston Strangler

- Ash steals one!

 

NON-TITLE, NO-DQ MATCH

Jay Dawg vs. Silent

- Silent finally gets a win! But then, all he beat was Dawg so it's not that impressive.

 

TAG TEAM TITLE MATCH

Edwin MacPhisto & Chris Raynor © vs. Frost & “TNT” Taylor Nicholas Thompson

- New champs (with some help from Chris Wilson)!

 

SINGLES MATCH

Perfect Bo vs. Annie Eclectic

- Bo's back and Annie sure knows it.

 

“I QUIT” MATCH

Lerrin Breggan vs. Erek Taylor

- Lerrin beats the crap out of Erek, but unfortunately forgets that he can't say "I quit" when he's unconscious. D'oh!

 

ICTV TITLE MATCH

Fallout © vs. Chris Wilson

- Edwin unintentionally distracts Fallout and Wilson rolls him up from behind for the win! *Cough*...don't you just love that finish?