SWF Storm (August 16, 2002)

August 17, 2002

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

BOOM

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

Stevens: “And once more people… it is time for S-W-F Storm!”

Riley: “Whoopdee doo!”

Stevens: “We are here at the sold out Target Center! The fans are pumped up and it is time to go!”

The sea of fans can all be seen cheering, holding up their favorite signs which support the XF9 and the Midnight Carnival. The lights suddenly go out, and the fans are still cheering at the suspense of who may be coming out next. The crowd finally silences, waiting for the person ready.

“THIIIISSSS!!!

IIIISSSS!!!

MAAAAAAHHHHHH!!!

HOOOOOUUUUUSSSEE!!!!!!”

The eager crowd instantly lashes out, already not amused at who is coming out. Jay Dawg steps through the curtains, in his wrestling gear and a tank top over his chest. His head is down and he is sans the hardcore title. JD pauses at the top of the ramp, taking a glance to his left and right. He walks down the ramp, glancing over his shoulder and into the crowd on his way.

Riley: “Here is the S-W-F’s greatest hardcore champion!”

Stevens: “He has dominated the division! However, he certainly got a thumping last week on Smarkdown against Silent! Defeated in his own yard!”

JD dives into the ring, starts bouncing around the ropes before getting a hold of a microphone. He raises it to talk, but enormous amounts of “ASSHOLE!!” chants kick up. He looks to his left, then to his right, before bring the mic up again, the crowd tries valiantly to drown him out.

Jamie: “Ladies and Gentlemen!”

The crowd force out the power into their lungs there boos silencing JD.

Jamie: “Dun dun dun! You people are some of the most confusing bunch I have ever seen!”

Stevens: “What does he mean by that?”

Jamie: “I mean, look at it! Just because a dipshit like Mark Stevens, or Edwin MacPhisto feels sorry for how he went out, you go on about the HVille Thugg like he was some kind of decent guy?”

Riley: “Ha ha, burn!”

Jamie: “I mean I here stories of people calling Thugg some kind of warrior? What the fuck is up with you dumbasses? Thugg was the biggest coward I ever knew!”

JD takes a short breath.

Jamie: “I mean let’s look at the track record of one of the most political fighters in the SWF! He’s hospitalized countless legends! Divefire! Chris Storm! Many JL’ers that no one gives a shit about! He retired people who could take him down, men like Apostle, Axis, PDS!!”

The fans pop at some of the names.

Jamie: “I mean… even the threats to his title. Look at the dumb fuck Xstasy, even after being forced to quit due to Thugg, he comes back and helps him out! We also have him forcing Edwin to retire Stevens! I mean, just because King and Stubby loved the idea, it wasn’t motive enough! How does it feel Mark, to cheer a guy who wanted you down!”

Stevens looks up from the commentator table, almost ready to fight JD.

Stevens: “He’s treading on thin ice, Riley.”

Jamie: “Now you people look at me like I’m a bad guy? Why, because I took him out once, and want to do it again! YOU PEOPLE MAKE ME SICK!!! You are the dumbest pieces of shit I have ever seen!”

Jay Dawg’s eyes open, blood shot, as he starts running off the ropes.

Jamie: “I WANT THE HVILLE THUGG!!! I WILL NOT STOP UNTIL I GET THE HVILLE THUGG!!!”

JD keeps bouncing off the ropes. Some fans open their cellphones to call the insane asylum.

Jamie: “I will take out any member in this roster, active or not to get to Thugg!”

JD looks around the crowd, his eyes wide open, his mouth grinning sadistically.

Jamie: “I mean, it started with the X-Force-9! Members of the Carnival and the Clan have followed! Magnificent Seven can suck my fucking dick! Creative Control may be dominant, but we are not finished! In fact! I am going to hurt someone tonight!?”

The audience starts to boo out loud, obviously not in the mood for Jay Dawg’s tactics.

Jamie: “Who can it be!? Should it be the X-Force-9 later!? Nah… that’s too far away! Who may it be, will it be you, Mark Stevens?”

Mark is ready, on the note willing to remove his headset.

Riley: “Think about it Mark. You won’t have a job if you go through!”

Jamie: “Or will it be you, Bobby Riley?”

Riley: “What!? How dare you, you dirty fucking slut!”

Stevens: “Heh heh, can’t take it yourself, Riley?”

Jamie: “Nah. Stubby seems to like you guys in your position. Plus HVT wouldn’t give a shit. What about…”

JD allows his grin to rise, as he turns his head towards the ring announcer.

Jamie: “Funyon. Yeah, how about you step inside and get your ass whooped, Funyon?”

Stevens: “Funyon has been retired for two years! Dammit JD, get some respect!”

JD steps toward Funyon. Suddenly the lights in the arena change to a bright shade of green. A series of green and white pyrotechnic explosions erupt from the stage, and "Figure 8" by Trust Company hits the speaker system.

Stevens: “Finally someone is hear to shut Jay Dawg up!”

Out through the curtains steps the Business Manager of the X-Force-9, Sarah Leavenworth. Dressed in her business attire, she walks down the ramp, smiling as the crowd gives her a hearty ovation. She looks toward JD, who isn’t too pleased at her arrival, and gives him a little wave. JD turns to face Sarah, wondering what she is up to. Sarah walks up the steps, wiping her feet on the ring apron, and steps through the ropes. A member near the ring tosses Sarah a Mic. She catches the Mic and enters the ring. She continues to look at JD, smiling ear to ear.

Stevens: “Sarah is not afraid of Jay Dawg!”

Riley: “She should be!”

Sarah: “Hey there Jay Dawg. How you been doing?”

JD glares straight at Sarah, stepping into the center of the ring.

Jamie: “You had better explain fast.”

Sarah: “Take it easy Jay Dawg. Now not many people in the S-W-F know the HVille Thugg better then I. Actually, no one on this current roster does!”

Jamie: “Yeah yeah, you two are a couple. What do you want Sarah.”

Sarah: “Jay Dawg. Get it through your thick fucking skull, Jay Dawg! Thugg is NOT COMING BACK!!! Especially for a piece of trash like you!”

The fans start to boo the fact that HVT isn’t coming back, but highly approve the insult.

Sarah: “In fact Jay Dawg. You can’t even beat Silent, what makes you think you can take Thugg?”

Jamie: “I lost to Silent last week, in my own environment. He beat me to the draw for the weapon. That is all I have to say about that. I will face him again. I will beat him… beat him like I beat the fuck out of your clients!”

Stevens: “Jay Dawg is trying to push some more buttons!”

Jamie: “The track record of X-Force-9 versus Creative Control isn’t the best Sarah. You guys should go fight the Magnificent Seven; you might stand a chance! Oh that’s right, you’re doing that tonight. Tell Pete I said good luck against Wilson… he’s going to need it!”

JD starts laughing, aware of the thought.

Sarah: “Well Jay Dawg. For a man who has no fear against the X-Force-9… we’ll see how well you’ll do against them tonight.”

Jamie: “Yeah we will.”

Sarah steps up to JD, looking straight into his face.

Jamie: “Get out of my ring Sarah… before I remove you.”

Sarah: “Stay away from Thugg, JD. He’s not coming back.”

Jamie: “Don’t make me make you my next example, Sarah. I will have Thugg. If you are not out of this ring in five seconds, I will have you removed.”

“FIVE!!”

“FOUR!!”

“THREE!!”

“TWO!!”

“ONE!!”

Jamie: “Your call, Sarah!”

JD pulls his fist back, ready to strike Sarah.

“You will get yours!”

“YOU WILL GET YOURS!!!!!!”

The opening lyrics of “Cold Contagious” by Bush hit the speakers, and down to the ring runs Long Dogger Pete. He dives into the ring, and steps past Sarah, right into the face of Jay Dawg. Sarah passes him the Mic and he accepts it.

LDP: “Jay Dawg. Now I know Sarah can fight her own battles. We have business to do tonight. So if you are going to interfere in my business, you are wanting a piece of me!”

The audience explodes into cheers, anxiously waiting for LDP to give it to JD. His fist is balled up, ready to strike JD as the intensity grows. Jay Dawg smiles slightly, pleased at LDP’s challenge.

Jamie: “You’re right LDP. As your lyrics go though… something tells me You Will Get Yours tonight. Then at the Pay Per View… Bo will make you Another Shook One!”

LDP: “Heh heh Jay Dawg. That may be true, but unless you want to GET YOURS right now! I suggest you step back.”

JD steps into the face of LDP, the noses close to touching each other.

Jamie: “LDP… what I would do to you right now, is nothing compared to what Bo will do to you. Believe me, Bo wants you at 100% so you can put up a fight. The gangsta loves a good fight. So right now, it’s not going to happen. But watch your back, Pete.”

Jay Dawg smiles as he steps in between Sarah and LDP, exiting through the ropes and walking up the ramp. LDP taps Sarah on the shoulder; she turns to him and flashes a brief smile.

Stevens: “What a start to the show folks!”

Riley: “It’s signed! Perfect Bo will face Long Dogger Pete at Apocalypse!”

Stevens: “Jay Dawg is going to have to find another opponent, because he is not facing the HVille Thugg!”

Riley: “I’m sure there are a few itching to get a shot at JD!”

Stevens: “You can say that again! It’s time for a commercial break!”

Commercial break.

August 17, 2002

The Card

SINGLES MATCH

Xero vs. Z

- Xero and Danny Williams beat Z and Magnifico in a tag match on Smarkdown. Z will try to get some singles retribution this Friday.

Word Limit: 3000 words

Send to: Suicide King

SINGLES MATCH

Fallout vs. “TNT” Taylor Nicholas Thompson

- Fallout isn’t pleased that he lost his ICTV title to the leader of the Magnificent 7 on Smarkdown, and will be looking to shed some M7 blood on Storm.

Word Limit: 3500 words

Send to: HVilleThugg

SINGLES MATCH

El Luchadore Magnifico vs. Danny Williams

- Magnifico has followed Z’s lead and challenged one of the men who defeated him in tag team action on Smarkdown.

Word Limit: 4000 words

Send to: Suicide King

TAG MATCH

Sacred & Perfect Bo vs. Edwin MacPhisto & Thoth

- Perfect Bo recently made his return to the SWF and will team with fellow Creative Control member Sacred to take on the strained alliance of Edwin and Thoth. Will Edwin and Thoth be able to stay on the same page? Are Sacred and Bo still weighed down by ring rust? We’ll find out this Friday!

Word Limit: 4500 words

Send to: HVilleThugg

SINGLES MATCH

The Boston Strangler vs. Silent

- Strangler has been messing with Erek lately, to the point where he won’t even be able to wrestle this Friday. People are making a bit fuss about Silent, so let’s see just how nasty he can be...

Word Limit: 4000 words

Send to: BA_Baracus

HANDICAP MATCH

Jay Dawg vs. Annie Eclectic & Tod deKindes

- As a fellow female and Jay Dawg hater, I can understand why Annie wants to kick his greasy ass. She’ll win the hardcore title soon enough, but she’ll get to soften him up on Storm!

Match Description – The good guys (Annie and Tod) don’t have to tag in and can double team JD as much as they want!

Word Limit: 4500 words

Send to: Suicide King

HANDCUFF MATCH

Frost vs. Ash Ketchum

- Ash suspects Frost was behind him being hit with a car. Now, just giving Ash a normal match against Frost wouldn’t be fair now, would it? I mean poor Ash got hit by a damn car after all!

Match Description – Frost will have his hands secured behind his back with Mistress Sarah brand handcuffs (29.95, available wherever S&M supplies are sold). The first one to score a pinfall, submission or knockout wins the match.

Word Limit: 4500 words

Send to: HVilleThugg

ICTV TITLE MATCH

Chris Wilson © vs. Longdogger Pete

- Longdogger Pete gets a much-deserved shot at both that jackass Chris Wilson and the ICTV title on Storm! Go get him Pete…you can do it!

Word Limit: 6000 words

Send to: BA_Baracus

August 17, 2002

“OBEY…”

“YOUR…”

“MASTER!”

And with the blazing riff from Metallica’s “Master of Puppets,” another edition of SWF Storm kicks off! The house lights drop pitch black, as the song continues to pound it’s way trough the system! With a sudden flare of red pyro, Xero emerges from the back, greeted by a solid chorus of boos from the fans!

“Annnnnd… welcome to another thrilling episode of Storm! Live from the SOLD OUT Target Centre in Minneapolis, Minnesota! I’m ‘Grand Slam’ Mark Stevens, alongside my cohort Bobby Riley, and we’re glad you could join us!” Greets Mark, enthusiastically.

“Indeedy do!” Returns Bobby. “And we’re setting up for a really great show!” Bobby pauses. “At least, we WERE, if this show was still all of Commissioner McWeed’s booking! That blasted Leavenworth, hacking the card!”

Before Mark can respond, Funyon picks up the mic, throwing his voice out over all the fans.“Ladies and gentlemen! Our first bout of the night, scheduled for ONE fall, is a singles match! Introducing first, from Port Colborne… Ontario… Canada… and weighing in at 199lbs… XEEEEROOO!”

“Tsk, Bobby. It’s still looking like a great card regardless.” Mark responds, with a bit of a smirk. “Besides, it’s about time we had an alternative to Stubby’s booking.”

“AN ALTERNATIVE!?” Bobby freaks! “Are you trying to tell me you’d like to see this… this fragrantly BIASED booking continue on each show! I mean, Jay Dawg in a handicap match? Frost against Ash Ketchum in a match where he’s HANDCUFFED!? And… in a travesty of a main event, *Longdogger Pete*, of all people, gets an ICTV title shot at Wilson! Ludicrous!” Bobby finishes in a huff!

Xero slowly strides down the aisle, taking his time to gab with some of the fans at aisle-side. He finally reaches the ring, pulling himself up onto the apron and hopping over the top-rope into the ring. He quickly walks over to a corner, leaning against it… as the heavy metal sounds of “Master of Puppets” are replaced by the synthesized funk of Faith No More’s “Epic”!

“Oh well… at the very least, Mark, we get to *start* the show off on a good note! It’s *always* a good day when everything starts off with a Carnival loss!” Riley beams.

“Now, Bobby…”

The crowd pops loudly as the black curtain ruffles, and emerging from the back is the lovable ball of green camouflage and blue hair! Like a dofus, Z takes a minute to run around on the stage, playing to the crowd, before treading down the aisle. Funyon picks up his microphone again…

“And his opponent! From Trenton, New Jersey! Weighing in at 229lbs… He is a member of the Midnight Carnival… ZEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!”

The crowd pops again for his name; as Bobby explains himself to Mark, sounding haughty. “Oh, puh-lease, Stevens. Z gotten his ass kicked seven ways from Sunday since getting bumped from the JL, *including* a tag match on Smarkdown , with THAT man, Xero, and Danny Williams, where even ELM couldn’t overcome his suckiness. They still lost! And worse yet, you know how they accomplished that? That’s right, Z tapped out to… a sleeper! A freaking sleeper!”

Stevens sighs, “Bobby… Danny Williams had knocked Z unconscious just moments earlier! There’s nothing Z could have done to stop him! Hell, even ELM did everything he could to stop him! It wasn’t *Z*’s fault!”

“Uh-huh…” Riley snorts, “Well, you just keep telling yourself that. We’ll find OUT is Z can actually do something against Xero in sigles competition, right… about… …now!”

**DING! DING! DING!**

Having just rolled under the bottom rope and into the ring, the referee signals the timekeeper… and before he can even turn around to look back at the ring, Xero sprints from his corner, charging over to Z and laying into his back with some hard stomps! Z gets stomped flat to the ground every time he tries to get up, as the crowd rains on the ring with boos. Xero doesn’t really seem to mind as he casually picks the now stomped-flat Z up off of the canvas, and shoots him to the ropes! Z bounces back… and goes -smack!- face-first into the mat with a drop toe-hold from Xero! Z stumbles to his feet, clutching his face, just barely shambling into the ropes again… as Xero grabs him, yanking the One-Letter Wonder down with an arm drag! Xero wastes no time trying for a quick kill, diving onto Z for a pin!

One!

TWO!

T—NO!

“Holy man! Xero is fast out of the gate here, just throwing Z around!” Shouts Mark.

“See?” Bobby oozes smarm. “He’s dominating Z right away, *just* as I told you he would. I mean, a two count off an *arm drag*? Yeesh!”

Xero doesn’t exactly seem surprised that Z kicked out of that, as he pulls him up slowly to his feet… and gets elbowed square in the gut! Xero doubles over as Z jams his elbow into Xero’s gut a second time! A third! Xero gasps in pain as Z drops to one-knee, cracking him upside the head with a solid right hand! The crowd gives a decent ovation as Xero gets pummeled in the face with a punch… that evolves into a fury! Z pistons his hands into Xero’s face, backing him into the corner… and continues to punch him! Xero slumps from the onslaught, as the ref grabs Z by his jacket, pulling him back and away. Z raises his arm to another ovation from the corwd, at his unusual burst of offence! The Carnie then turns his attention back to Xero, still slumped in the corner, head resting against the bottom rope… and points to right to him! Z backs himself into a corner, winding up for something, as the crowd continues to buzz!

Mark sounds a little stunned. “Z actually… well, he’s actually returning decent fire to start off this match! And with Xero slumped into the corner, Z’s going for… a baseball slide dropkick!” Mark pauses, realizing exactly where Z’s feet are headed. “…a baseball slide that’s headed to become 7-10 split!”

“I’d expect something more like 2-6-2 or equally generic from you, Mark… but I don’t have the time to care! What about poor Xero’s nu--”

-Clap!-

Riley blinks in mid drama queen act. “…that didn’t sound right. What’s that boy been eating?”

“No, no!” Stevens shakes his head. “Z clapped his boots off the steel post! Xero moved out of the way!”

The camera immediately shifts to get a better angle, which shows Z, looking stupid, as he feet rest against the turnbuckle post, still lying in sliding position. Before he can do anything, Xero pops up from the floor he rolled out onto, and… flicks Z in the nose! Z grasps at the bridge of his scnozz in pain, slowly getting to his feet, as… well, as Mark deadpans.

“You have got to be kidding me.”

“Sadly, no.” Riley shakes his head. “The kid *really* did sell that.”

Now up to his feet, Z lets go of his nose, shaking out the… ah… ‘pain’. He turns to look to the outside… and sees Xero standing on the apron! Z dives at Xero, trying for a head shot, that the Canadian-by-way-of-Hungary easily ducks. As his feet hit the apron, Z tries a shin-kick throught the second rope… that Xero easily hops over. Getting frustrated, Z tries the wild punch to the head again… and Xero once more ducks, this time jamming his shoulder through the second rope and drivinging it into Z’s gut! The One-Letter Wonder doubles over, as does a rope-aided flip over him, grasping his legs on the way down and pulling him into…

“Xero actually got the Sunset flip!” Calls Mark. “Count!”

One!

TWO!

TH—No!

“No, just another near fall.”

“Hey, that’s *two* near falls for Xero, and none for Z. A pretty darn good average if I do say so myself.” Bobby says so, himself.

“Well, you make a point there, Riley.” Agrees ‘Grand Slam’. “Anyway, now Xero hauls up Z, leaning him against the ropes…”

**SMACK!** “Whoo!”

“And just LAYED right into him with a vicious knife edge chop!”

**SMACK!** “Whoo!” “Ouch! Holy smurf!”

**SMACK!** “Whoo!” “Dammit! That hurts!”

**SMACK!** “Whoo!” “Sunova submariner!”

**SMACK!** “Whoo!” “Guh… holy farking… schnitzel…”

“And Xero *finally* lets Z drop after *five* conscuitive kife edged chops! Those would make Ric Flair himself wince!” Shills Mark.

“Uh huh… I dunno, Stevens.” Bobby leans back in his seat, obviously pondering something. “Now… I’d say that the majority of those were about 6.5… maybe 7.0 on the Benoit-O-Meter. Of course, there was that fourth one, that got pretty high up there, around 8.5… you might be able to make Flair wince with that one.”

“Ahhh… okay.” Mark nods his head. “Would that be the one where Z said ‘Ouch, holy smurf’?”

“Oh, no. That was only an average, 6.0 on the meter. See, now the one that made him remark ‘Sunova Submariner’… now, THAT was a great chop!”

Wheezing, coughing, and sputtering in pain, Z is once more hauled up by Xero, who continues retro-submissions week, but slapping on… a side headlock! Xero cranks the headlock hard, as the crowd begins to respond, actually starting a small ‘Xero sucks!’ chant. Xero doesn’t seem to notice, or care, really, as he continues to work the headlock… until he’s abruptly thrown off, as Z grabs at his arm, prying it free… and ducking under, twisting Xero’s arm behind him for a hammerlock!

“A basic demonstration of fundamental wrestling holds, here.” Notes Stevens. “Xero really cranked the headlock, but got it reversed before it managed to do any real damage to Z, and just countered that hold into one of his own!”

“Oh, yay. Nothing more exiting than…” Riley pauses for an exaggerated yawn. “…than textbook wrestling HOLDS. Hey, isn’t Xero supposed to be a high-flier? When’s he going to start, you know, flying!?”

Mark sighs. “You’ve got absolutely no respect for the art of this business, do you, Riley?”

“Art schmart! Give me SPOTS!”

As Stevens sighs again and rolls his eyes, the force of Xero’s hammerlock slowly begins to force Z down… before he digs his feet into the mat, trying his hardest to force Xero’s arm up like he did to his own, ducking under… and applying a wristlock! The crowd pops a little again for any amount of Z’s offence… but Xero has the quick fix for this one. In a flash, and before Z know what’s going on, Xero drops into a roll, scoots himself around on the mat, kips up… and ducks under the arm of a confused Z, grabbing his own wristlock… wich he uses to quickly snap the Carnie over! Z splats to the mat, as Xero wastes no time, diving through the second rope and up to the top!

“Well, Bobby, ask and you shall receive! After that Owen Hart-esque wristlock reversal, Xero looks as if he’s ready to start the flying!” Calls Mark!

As Riley grumbles something about it ‘damn well taking long enough,’ Xero waits, perched on top. The referee begins the count to get him to come down, as, you know, standing on the top-rope IS illegal if you wait. The groggy One-Letter Wonder comes up to his feet… turning to look at the turnbuckle… and barely catches the flying Canadian out of the corner of his eye, as he leaps off with a flying body press… that connects!

“Beautiful!” Shouts Riley! “A perfect 1.0 Steamboat on the body press!”

“…That Z just rolled through, into his own pin!” Mark hasens to add!

Xero barely has any time to register what’s going on, as Z rolls through on the body press, hooking Xero’s leg! The crowd pops for the pin fall attempt, as the ref goes down to count!

One!

TWO!

THE—NO!

“Kickout!” Shouts ‘Grand Slam’! “And Z has no better luck with his first pin than Xero had with the other two!”

“Ah… kinda’ like what happens when you try and hit on someone, eh Mark?” Bobby grins, before getting plowed by Mark.

As Bobby shakes his head in pain, Z rolls off of Xero, looking a little winded. Xero looks no worse for wear, blasting the Carnie with a stomp to the face! Before Z can do anything, Xero hauls him up, tossing him to the ropes with an Irish Whip—no, reversed! Xero shoots back… and ducks under an Arm Grenade, to the ire of the fans! Z turns around…

**SMACK!**

…and gets a spinning heel kick right to the face! Z collapses to the mat, clutching his face, as Xero drops down on him for another lateral press! The ref counts!

ONE!

TWO!

THREE—NO!

“Z kicked out of Xero’s third pin attempt of the match!” Shouts Stevens! “And Xero *might* have had Z there had he hooked the leg!”

“And Z might not have even gotten in that position if he wasn’t an idiot, so I guess we’re even.” Riley snorts, sounding defensive.

“Uh, Bobby… you *do* know that that makes it 0-2 for me--”

“Nope!” Shouts Bobby, shoving his hand into Mark’s face. “Talk to the hand, cause the face ain’t listening! None of your biased, markish, opinions can change what I already know is correct.”

“…Riley?”

“Yes?”

“You’re a tool.”

As Mark sighs at Bobby’s “Arguing-for-the-sake-of-arguing-even-if-I-end-up-sounding-like-an-idiot,” Xero once again hauls up Z, this time looking legitimately frustrated. Tossing him toward the ropes once more, Xero prepares to catch him on the rebound, jumping up for a Hurricanrana… and nearly falling face-flat as Z ducks underneath him, grabbing one of Xero’s arms along the way! As Xero lands back on his feet, albeit wobbly, Z pops up behind him… arm still in hand. Xero blanches. The crowd ‘oo’s’ in sympathy.

“What the HELL!? Xero… he just… Z used his arm to… unethical treatment of the testicles…” Bobby looks flabbergasted. “DAMMIT! You can’t lowblow a guy WITH HIS OWN ARM!? Diqaulify him! I mean, THAT’S GOT to be a--”

Mark giggles a bit. “Well… I think Z just caught Xero with the pumphandle Galatea Special! And folks, THAT bizarre connotation is Bobby Riley on a Saturday night.”

Bobby’s mouth hangs open. “...I hate you, Stevens.”

“Right back at cha’, big guy.”

As Xero stands, whimpering and looking stupid, Z plants him with a kick straight in the backside, sending the Canadian shambling into the ropes, landing neck-first onto the second one. Seeing another opportunity, Z does a quick play to the fans, before charging off of the opposite ropes and at Xero, flying at him with open legs, looking to crush his thigh on Xero’s neck! Z flies through the air… and blanches as Xero moves out of the way. The crowd ‘oos’ in sympathy again.

“WHOO! Right back at cha’INDEED!” Bobby marks like a little girl in his chair! “Z just Galatea Specialed himself on the ropes, and it’s PERFECTLY LEGAL! INADVERTENESS 0WnZ j00!!!”

Mark blinks, both at Riley’s giddiness and his ability to say ‘0’. “Erm… yes… Z flubbed the making the rocking horse, there, and may have given Xero the advantage he needs!”

Heading Mark’s words, Xero immediately capitalizes, charing to the ropes again and running at Z! The Carnie, even in his state, gets a lock on Xero and drops down as he runs at him, throwing him behind him in a weak backdrop!

…that Xero easily corrects, pulling himself behind Z, and sliding down his back, locking on… the SLEEPER! The ancient submission hold actually gets a pretty loud response, and Z vainly tries to fight it off! Z falls to one-knee while Xero tightens his grip, on the hold, ignoring the emerging “Xero sucks!” chant.

“And the sleeper, of all things, may be looking to end *another* match for Z!” Calls Mark! “Xero tightening that grip on that artery, cutting off the flow of blood to the brain.”

“Not that that should affect Z any.”

Xero cranks on the sleeper again, having gotten Z right down onto the mat. With no response from the Carnie, the referee picks up his hand…

…and it drops once!

“This is it!” Giggles Riley!

He picks up his hand again…

“End o’ the line for Z!”

…and it drops twice!

The referee picks up the hand for the last time…

…and the hand drops—NO IT DOESN’T!

“Augh, DAMMIT!”

The crowd pops huge as Z keeps his hand afloat, and begins to rise to his feet! Drawing off the chant of “Let’s go Z!” the Carnie rises up… and elbows poor Xero in the gut once! Twice! A third time, and he’s finally free! Quickly snatching up Xero’s hand, Z serves him to the ropes, lying in wait and springing up with an Arm Grenade… that Xero ducks! Turning around, Z receives a snap-kick to the gut, as Xero slaps on a front-facelock!

“Purgatory! Xero’s looking for the Purgatory!” Shouts Mark! “Z worked out of the Sleeper, but Xero’s still got a chance!”

Xero grabs hold of Z’s pants, trying for the DDT… but gets shoved into the corner by Z! With one big shoulder thrust, Xero losses hold of Z… and gets quickly shoved into a standing head-scissors! Z hooks the arm, throws Xero onto his should, and spins, adding a couple extra for flavor, before SLAMMING Xero down in a power-bomb!

“JERSEY TURNPIKE!” Marks Mark! “Xero landed right on his neck!”

“No…” Bobby chockes.

“The ref counts! The crowd plays sing-a-long!”

ONE!

TWO!

THREE!

**DING!DING!DING!*

Funyon grabs the mic, shouting over the cheering fans! “The winner of this match… ZEEEEEE!!”

‘Epic’ funks up, as the crowd cheers long and loud! The ref raises Z’s hand, to another good pop!

“And *finally* pulls out a win!” Shouts Stevens!

“And now *I* owe you ten bucks on the night…” Riley sulks.

“Heh, heh… methinks you’ll be owing me a lot more when the night’s done, Riley.” Mark smiks. “Anyway, more Storm, after this!”

-fade-

August 17, 2002

WARNING: The following was rushed out by a certain guy who explodes and whatnot in about an hour, in order to simply SHOW. If you wish to retain any current brain cells, IQ points, or logic that you may have, please just pass by this match, not even reading this warning in the first place. DO NOT READ THIS. It’s like if you pass by a car accident where Richard Simmons was hit by a golf cart or something, you know how you kinda glance at it, but don’t really take the time to get into the details? Well, that’s basically what you should do here.

***BOOM***

Some random guy in the audience spontaneously combusts, signaling the reinitiating of whatever show this is! And then like…trapeze artists fly around or something, and then the camera zooms in on the commentators! Woo, exciting! Riley kinda sits there like a stoned duck or something, picking his nose redundantly, and Grand Spam is the first to speak.

Stevens: “Welcome back ladies, gents, and everything in between to SWF SMARKDOWN!”

Riley: “Storm.”

Stevens: “Right, SWF STORM! We’re really excited for our next match, as Fallout goes head to head with ‘TNT’ Taylor Nicholas Thompson!”

Riley: “This heated feud all started when Stubby was booking the show, and randomly paired these two together! And now we have this filler match, that I’m being forced to commentate on, because this is really my parole job and if I fuck up I go to jail. So there.”

Stevens: “INTENSE!”

Riley: “…yeah, well, we go down now to ring announcer Funyon, who will announce our competitor’s to the ring, since he’s the ring announcer and all.”

Funyon: “Blah blah blah blah TNT!”

***STATIC***

“Uh…Mr. Stevens?”

Stevens: “Yeah Ted?”

“Uh…we’ve…uh…lost all of the entrance theme music.”

Stevens: “…WHAT!? Bah! Just play whatever you have then!”

“Yes sir.”

…

A deafening silence consumes the arena, and all of the audience are all “What?” and the commentator’s are all “Hey, I wonder what music he’ll come out to” and Jay Dawg’s all “I’m a fucking homo.” Then suddenly…

“It’s astounding…”

THE CROWD IS ALL “HURRAY! I KNOW THIS SONG!” as the familiar upbeat techno tune rings out in their ears.

“Time is fleeting…Madness…takes it’s toll…but listen closely…”

”NOT FOR VERY MUCH LONGER!” the crowd chants along…

“I’ve got to…KEEP CONTROL.”

…

“AND I REMEMBER! DOIN’ THE TIME WARP!”

The Rocky Horror Picture Show number continues, the fans singing along. TNT steps out onto the entrance ramp with his arms raised, standing in silence, until it hits it’s climatic point just a moment later…

“It’s just a jump to the left…”

TNT takes a hop to the right, egging on the crowd to do the same.

“AND THEN A STEP TO THE RI-I-I-I-IGHT!”

Just as Taylor makes a step to the right, Frost appears from behind the curtain, a grim look painted across his face.

“With your hands on your hips…”

Thompson plasters his hands across the sides of his hips…

“AND YOUR KNEES IN TI-I-IGHT!”

…and closes his knees in a tight manner.

“BUT IT’S THE PELVIC THRRRRRRUUSST! THAT DRIVES YOU INSA-A-A-ANE!”

Frost steps over to Taylor, and demands him to stop being a tool and/or a fool, but Taylor continues to dance around like one of those monkeys with the cymbals that you can wind up, and Frost apparently gives up, sighing in disbelief at this fiasco.

“LET’S DO THE TIME WARP AGAIN! LET’S DO THE TIME WARP AGAIN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

With that, the explosive one darts for the ring, Frost meandering behind him, and slides in, continuing to dance there, when suddenly, darkness floods the ring, and the music stops.

Funyon: “Bla bla bla bla FALLOUT!”

***whistles***

Stevens: “What the?”

A techno beat blares from the PA system, and suddenly the familiar vocals of Vanilla Ice can be heard.

“YO! It’s the green machine -- Gonna rock the town without bein’ seen

Have you ever seen a turtle Get Down? -- Slammin’ Jammin’ to the new swing sound

Yeah, everybody let’s move -- Vanilla is here with the new Jack Groove

Gonna rock, and roll this place -- With the power of the ninja turtle bass

Iceman, ya know I’m not playin’ -- Devistate the show while the turtles are sayin…”

***KABOOSHOIE***

A thunderous explosion of pyrotechnics flares up from the pinnacle of the stage, and as the smoke clears, Fallout can be spotted at the ramp’s peak, a herd of enthusiastic backup dancers swinging, jiving, and grinding behind him. Fallout himself however, bears no emotion whatsoever, and the meshed-shirt wearing fruits behind him dance in the sync of the music…

“NINJA! NINJA, RAP! NINJA! NINJA, RAP! NINJA! NINJA, RAP!

Four accompanying dancers fall from the sky on bungee chords, each one dressed up as an individual ninja turtle. The barbershop quartet so to speak land on each turnbuckle, and rap along with the catchy lyrics, as the crowd pops like one of Tenryu’s joints.

“GO! GO! GO!”

Fallout slides into the ring, no emotion even hinted in the composure of his stone…or more than likely stoned, face.

“GO NINJA! GO NINJA! GO! GO NINJA! GO NINJA! GO! GO NINJA! GO NINJA! GO! GO NINJA! GO NINJA! GO!”

“GO! GO! GO! GO!”

Riley: “Whoo! Ninja Rap! The nostalgia of both Vanilla Ice AND Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles Two!”

Stevens: “The sequel was actually sub-titled: The Secret of the Ooze.”

Riley: “Word.”

The backup dancers and Frost flood from the ring, leaving only Fallout, TNT, and Cutthroat…who for some reason is just there.

***BAM***

Fallout shoots him in the face.

***BAM***

…twice.

***DING DING DING***

A ring official rolls the bloodied Cutthroat from the ring, and the match begins!

Stevens: “And they’re off!”

Riley: “Word.”

Stevens: “Shut up.”

Riley: “Word.”

Stevens: “…and referee Sexton Hardcastle is entering the ring…OH! BUT HE’S HIT BY A TRAIN!”

Riley: “And this match has become an all-out brawl! There’s no referee! Fallout is still wearing that black bathrobe of his!”

TNT and Fallout circle eachother methodically, each attempting to spot an opening on their opponent, and Taylor abruptly shatters the peaceful stare down, swiping a quick right hand across the face of Fallout! The Out-Faller reels back, cupping his hand around his cheek to cover up the reddening effects of the slap. He quickly collects himself, and retorts by hopping up in the air, and plunging his two feet into the chest of TNT!

Stevens: “And a dropkick by Fallout sends Thompson reeling into the corner!”

Riley: “And it probably hurt even more due to the fact that Fallout was wearing platform shoes that light up upon impact!”

The dynamite warrior leans against the ring post, gradually recovering, but Fallout moves quickly, grabbing a clown from the audience, and forcing him to make a balloon icepick!

Stevens: “And it looks as if Fallout is about to go Sharon Stone on TNT’s ass!”

The Clannie snatches the pick from the big-nosed goof, and grips it in front of him, threatening TNT with it! Taylor recoils in fear, not wanting to be brutally stabbed to death, but with one swift, forceful motion, Fallout gouges the inflatable weapon into the stomach of TNT, who looks downward…and nonchalantly swipes the object away. Fallout, a hint of aggrivation in his actions, grabs Taylor by the hair, and throws him outside of the ring! Thompson stumbles into the guard-rail, and Frosty rushes over to his partner to aid him.

“COME ON! GET HIM!”

“I’m blind out there yo. You gotta cut me.”

“Come on Rocky! …er…Taylor!”

“You gotta cut me!”

…but it’s too late, because Fallout comes soaring over the top rope with a super-duper-ultra-twisty-misty-moonsault! He lands on his opponent with a “CLANG” for some reason, and kips up to his feet. Frost, noticing the lack of referee, lurches at Fallout, planting him down with a kick to the balls!

Stevens: “Ouch! A blatant low-blow!”

Riley: “And it’s on the OUTSIDE! Everything hurts more, and is more dangerous on the OUTSIDE!”

Stevens: “…uh-huh.”

Riley: “THIS IS TRULY HARDCORE!”

Fallout drops to his knees in testicular agony, moaning like a deranged cult-member who was just kicked in the…oh, right. Thompson, who has fully recovered by now, uses this distraction to contemplate his next act…and eventually comes to a decision, grabbing a slinky from the crowd! He pounces behind the >insert something BESIDES “Fallout” to call Fallout here, as to not be repetitive<, and slings the slinky over his head, cinching it around his neck!

Stevens: “And he’s choking Fallout with that slinky! We need a ref down here dammit!”

Riley: “Fallout struggles away from the merciless TNT, but Thompson hurls the slinky at his face!”

***boom***

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

Crimson blood relentlessly gushes from the Clan member’s forehead, and he yelps out in pain, flying back a full ten feet!

--- ten minutes later ---

Stevens: “Well folks, we’re afraid this match is over…we have Fallout being carried out on a stretcher…he’s being put into that ambulance at the top of the stage at this point…”

A crew of doctors slides Fallout into the ambulance, and shut the door, as the camera pans to the front…

Stevens: “WHO IS DRIVING?”

Riley: “OH MY GOD! JAY DAWG DRESSED UP AS A BEAR IS DRIVING!

Stevens: “HOW CAN THAT BE!?”

***CRASH***

Jay Dawg crashes the truck, and rolls out the side door in a blanket of flames. Annie Eclectic herself rushes out with a fire extinguisher, and bashes JD over the head with it! The Dawgster falls from the stage, down…uh…let’s say…37 flights of stairs, to his impending doom! Then Annie goes down on Lita, who uh…just happens to be standing there! Woo!

Stevens: “OH MY GOD! JAY DAWF HAS A MATCH WITH ANNIE AND TOD DEKINDES LATER TONIGHT, BUT HE COULD BE DEAD!”

Riley: “PARTY AT MY HOUSE!”

THE CAPS LOCK IS LEFT ON, AS TNT SNEAKS UP BEHIND THE VAN and…awe there we go, back to normal lettering. Anyhoo, TNT sneaks up behind the van, and swings open the door, yanking out Fallout, who still lies lifelessly on a stretcher! Thompson rolls the bloodied um…guy, into the ring, and slides in after him. He drops to his knees, and pounds a few clenched fists into his face, but Fallout shoves him off, and spins around to TNT’s backside, grabbing his undies, and jerking them upwards, with an atomic wedgie of doom!

“AAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

Stevens: “He’s tapping!”

Riley: “But there’s no referee! Look! Wilson, of the Magnificent Seven, is walking down the entrance ramp, presumably to interfere in the…”

***SPLASH***

Stevens: “BUT NO! Fallout grabs a top hat, yells ‘abra kadabra,’ and pulls a water balloon launcher, complete with balloon, out of it, and shoots a water balloon at Chris, rendering him unconscious!”

Wilson is carried into the ambulance, when suddenly, one of the doctors pulls off his doctor mask, and reveals himself to be Andrew WK!

Riley: “It’s Andrew WK!”

…and then pulls off his Andrew WK mask, and reveals himself as Thoth!

Riley: “It’s Thoth!”

Thoth moves like Sonic the Hedgehog with a Roman Candle up his ass, quickly pulling out a…um…Hana Yori Dango comic out of his pants, and rolls it up, smashing it against Wilson’s head, drawing gallons of blood!

Stevens: “PAPER CUT! BAH GAWD!”

Riley: “…this match blows.”

Stevens: “AND NOW FALLOUT HAS PULLED EDWIN MACPHISTO OUT OF THE TOP HAT!”

Riley: “AND HIS VILOCIRAPTORS!”

Stevens: “…his WHAT!?”

Edwin: “My tag belt hath been taken! Sally forth, raptors! Clever girl!”

“Growl…”

“HEYWHATTHEFUCKISTHATOHMYGODIT’SEATINGMEALIVEHELPAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!!!!!” TNT screams in pain as the raptors tear him limb from limb, but Frost quickly lunges into the ring with a…um…pair of floaties, and suffocates all of the raptors with them!

Stevens: “Look behind you Edwin! It’s Steven Hawking!”

Riley: “That’s H-Ville Thugg you dolt.”

The wheel-chaired HVT grabs Edwin by his fiery, red hair, and tosses him into a mosh pit at a tool concert! Edwin is kicked in the face, and floats away, never seen again…until that random tag match in a little bit. Thugg pops a wheely, soaring over the top rope, and darting up the entrance ramp! Z pops out of nowhere, but he likes Pepsi, and therefore doesn’t matter, and therefore explodes! Woo! And then Mistress Sarah licks Z, even though he’s explodidized!

Stevens: “AND NOW IT’S JUST TNT AND FALLOUT IN THE RING!”

"G0R0 IS BEINGZ AMAIZNGS TECHNNIKAL WRESLERR!!!@!#~`~!!@!"

Riley: “…what the fuck was that.”

Stevens: “IT’S GORO! AND HE’S COMING DOWN THE ENTRANCE RAMP…”

Riley: “GORO LEAPS INTO THE RING, AND DELIVERS THE G.O.R.O. DDT TO FALLOUT!”

Stevens: “BUT NO! THERE’S DANNY WILLIAMS! HE IMMEDIATELY KILLS GORO WITH HIS LACK OF PERSONALITY! BAH GAWD THIS IS A SLOBBERKNOCKER!”

Riley: “AND THIS MATCH HAS SUNK TO A NEW LOW!”

Stevens: “Who else could POSSIBLY run in on this match!?”

Stevens and Riley: “ZIO!”

Stevens: “He’s just like Axis…but…just like Axis!”

Zio runs into the ring…but is quickly taken out by…uh…someone who hasn’t had a cameo…uh…LDP and Sydney Sky’s real life son! …riding a…cow! …dressed up as a fireman! Yeah! That’s it! A toddler on a firefighting cow…who marks for TNT! [PM me, I have audio proof that he does, so BONG] The cow rides off into the sunset…leaving a trail of carnage behind it. And then Outcast is murdered, for STILL not finishing his Gluttony promo! And then TNT gets tired of typing, and figures this match has run its course anyway, so just copy/pastes an AIM conversation with Edwin instead of the ending!

Friar Funk: TNT does a 3600 degree corkscrew moonsault onto Fallout, causing him to "go Nuclear!" and accidentally irradiate the entire arena, resulting in Bobby growing tentacles and talking about what he's going to do to all the nubile Japanese schoolgirls with them.

Friar Funk: close with MVS saying: "This is great! I'm learning so much!"

CIA says “I’m Canadian!” and TNT makes the cover!

--- three hours and thirty-two minutes later ---

And the ref slides into the ring, just as Axis gets locked inside of a shed!

Ref Guy: “ONE! TWO! THREE!”

***DING DING DING***

…BIG AMERICAN DANCE PARTY!

~FIN~

…

…sorry about that folks…good luck in getting back those IQ points.

August 17, 2002

Stevens: Welcome back to another exciting addition of SWF STORM! Coming up right now, we have a singles match pitting Mag 7 member Danny Williams against the high flying El Luchadore Magnifico. Magnifico is looking to get back to Championship level, but he has to get past Danny Williams, who is looking to prove that he is at that Championship level.

Riley: A complete mismatch if you ask me. Not only is Williams in a different weight class, he wrestles the superior Kings Road Style, while ELMS uses the crappy, all flash, light impact, Luchadore style.

Stevens: Well I don’t know about that, but these two men have met twice before at WarGames and in a tag match last Smackdown.

Riley: And guess who won both times.......

Stevens: True, Williams’ teams came out victorious each time. However, this is a one on one matchup.

Riley: Which means ELMS an’t gonna have his loser Carnie pals to protect him from Williams this time.

Stevens: An’t isn’t a word, and Funyon is ready with the introductions.

Funyon: The following contest is scheduled for one fall, and is at a thirty minute time limit. Introducing first, weighing in at 238 pounds and hailing from Louisville, Kentucky. DANNY WILLIAMSSSSSSSSSS!

DEP’s Calculating Infinity blasts over the PA, triggering a chorus of “boos” from the crowd. Williams emerges from the darkness of the locker room, and anxiously jobs down the aisle. The fans shout taunts and profanities as Williams passes, but he doesn’t seem to notice. Rather than using the steps, a hyperactive Williams hops on to the apron and springboards over the top rope into the ring.

Stevens: Williams is a lot more animated than usual. Maybe he’s back on crack.

Riley: What! That was low, Stevens, even for you! I’d say Williams is just excited to be given the opportunity to prove himself against a former World Champion.

Already pouring sweat, Williams bounces around and warm ups in the ring. The arena lights go out, making Williams disappear into the darkness. “Calculating Infinity” stops and the only sound in the arena is the chattering of the more louder members of the audience

““UNO! DOS! TRES! CUATRO!”” suddenly blasts over the PA, with each word accompanied by an orange burst of pyro from each turnbuckle. The fans start chanting “MAG! MAG! MAG!” as “”Mission Trip to Mexico”” blasts through the arena. Suddenly! El Luchadore Magnifico bursts out from behind the curtain as the song begins, eliciting a loud cheer from the crowd as he makes his way down the ramp, waving his flag excitedly.

Stevens: And there he is, four time Light Heavyweight Champion.....

Riley: Bah! All that means is that he lost the title four times. Besides the Light Heavyweight Title is a worthless piece of tin we just give to the midgets to make them feel important.

Stevens: Midgets?

Riley: Oh, I mean vertically challenged or whatever P.C. term they use nowadays.

Stevens: Well that vertically challenged wrestler is a former World Champion.

Riley: No duh! How could anyone forget the darkest days of our federation. The PPV buy rates started falling, the ratings went to the gutter, merchandise sells dropped.................

Funyon: And his opponent, weighing in at 190 pounds from Mexico City. EL LUCHADORE MAGNIFICOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Magnifico takes time to slap a few fans hands, then slides into the ring, drops his flag, and hops onto the second turnbuckle, where he pumps his fist into the air repeatedly. “MAG! MAG! MAG!” perfectly accompanies each fist raise. Eventually, he hops off of the turnbuckle and begins stretching as his music dies down.

Riley: ELMS is so stupid, he doesn’t realize that the fans are chanting for Magnificent Seven, and not him. Since Mag is short for Magnificent Seven.

Stevens: Call me crazy, but I think that MAG is short for Magnifico. Anyway both men are mat wizards, we should see a great technical match up.

Riley: Both men mat wizards? ELMS isn’t no mat wizard, hell he isn’t even a mat magician. He’s just a lot of flash, and no substance.

DING! DING! DING! The fans applaud as Williams and ELMS rush out of their corners, and start dancing around each other. ELMS has a big smile on his face, while Williams wears a more nervous but focused expression. After some stalling the two lock up in a collar elbow tie up. Williams gains the advantage with a side headlock, and starts grinding away at ELMS’ thin neck.

Riley: As evidenced by his match with Xero, Williams likes to wear down faster opponents with headlocks and sleeperholds.

Stevens: But if it didn’t work against Xero, than why should it work against ELMS who is a former World Champion.

Riley: I can’t believe that you are implying that ELMS is better than Xero.

In the blink of an eye, ELMS spins out Williams’ headlock and grabs a hammerlock! ELMS smiles at the fans to let them no he was never in any real danger.

Stevens: Well I think their accomplishments speak for themselves......WHAT A REVERSAL! Not bad for someone who isn’t even a mat magician.

Riley: I’am sure a handful of hair aided him in that reversal.

Williams just pops ELMS with a sharp elbow, forcing him to release the hold!

Riley: Now that’s a good clean reversal.

Now free, Williams runs into the ropes and bounces back at ELMS with his arm extended for the Hooking Clothesline! But ELMS leapfrogs over him, allowing Williams to pass underneath. Williams bounces off the ropes again, and comes charging back even faster. ELMS just patiently waits, and blasts Williams with a lighting quick Dropkick! ELMS’ boots connect right with Williams’ chin, knocking him through the ropes and out on to the apron. The fans applaud the fast paced action.

Stevens: Unbelievable! The action is just too fast to call.

Riley: You could at least try, you lazy bastard.

Williams shakes his head a few times to clear the cobwebs, and pulls himself up with the ropes. But ELMS drills him with a standing Dropkick as soon as he stands up! Williams flies off the apron, and crashes into the guardrail! CLANK! Moving at an almost blinding speed, ELMS steps out on the apron and does a back flip off the second rope!

Stevens: PERFECT ASIA MOONSAULT!

ELMS pancakes Williams into the guardrail, and flips over into the front roll! “MAG! MAG! MAG!” frantically chants the excited fans. Williams slides down the guardrail, and curls up on the floor. ELMS high fives some kids in the front roll, before climbing back over the guardrail.

Riley: ELMS is now taking a break from the match, to cowardly attack some kids in the front roll.

Stevens: Yeah sure, those high fives are deadly.

Riley: High fives? They looked like Shoteis to me.

ELMS climbs back over the guardrail, and helps Williams to his feet. ELMS rolls Williams into the ring, drawing some claps from the crowd. ELMS climbs back on to the apron, as Williams stumbles to his feet on the inside. Williams clutches his ribs and coughs, without a clue that ELMS is waiting on the apron behind him. ELMS springboards on to the top rope, and bounces off! ELMS’ boots drills Williams in the back of the head with a Dropkick! THUMP! ELMS rolls Williams over, and hooks his leg for the pin.

ONE!

TWO!

NO! Williams kicks out! ELMS isn’t surprised at Williams resilience, and pulls him up by his tight. ELMS locks a back waistlock on Williams, and the fans rise to their feet!

Stevens: GERMAN SUPLEX COMING UP!

Riley: NO! DAMN YOU MACPHISTOOOOOO! DAMN YOU TO HELL!

Williams comes to his senses, and drives two hard elbows into ELMS’ temple!

Riley: WILLIAMS IS FIGHTING OUT OF IT! ELBOW! ELBOOOOOOW!

But ELMS doesn’t release Williams from the back waistlock, and lifts him up anyway!

Stevens: GERMAN SUPLEEEEEEEEEX!

Before ELMS can snap back, Williams fires two more elbows into his temple! ELMS finally gives in to the throbbing pain in his temples, and lowers Williams back the mat.

Riley: NO! Wrong again Stevens! WILLIAMS IS COMING BACK!

Williams spins out of the back waistlock, and locks on a Sleeperhold! The fans sit back down, and show their disappoint with a constant “BOOOOOOOOOOOO!” ELMS reaches for the ropes, but Williams holds him in place. ELMS legs become heavy, and he drops to his knees. Williams pulls ELMS down to the mat, and locks on a body scissors!

Stevens: Williams has ELMS locked in his patent Rear Naked Chokehold.

Riley: Oh for crying out.....it’s not a chokehold. It’s a Sleeper with body scissors.

ELMS quickly rolls to the ropes, forcing Williams to release the hold. Williams jumps to his feet, and gives ELMS a hard kick to the back! THUMP! ELMS cries out in pain, and climbs to his knees using the second rope. Williams draws back his big white boot, and drives it back into ELMS back! THUMP! “DAAAAAAAAAH” screams ELMS, as he quickly pulls himself the rest of the way up with the ropes. Williams spins him around, and hammers his chest with a knife edge chop! SMACK! Than another! SMACK! And a another! SMACK!

Stevens: Oh those chops are just spine tingling.

Riley: And legal, unlike those closed fist punches the so called fan favorites get to use.

Williams shoots the stunned ELMS off the ropes with an Irishwhip, and takes position in the center of the ring. Williams swings a Back Elbow as ELMS rushes back towards him! But ELMS ducks, and bounces off the ropes again. Williams spins around, only to be caught with a Flying Head Scissors! Williams spring right back up, but a drowsy ELMS is slow to get up. Williams rushes in, and easily snaps on a another Sleeperhold. “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

Stevens: ELMS was to weak from the last Chokehold to mount an offense, allowing Williams to lock on another Chokehold.

Riley: Shut up, Stevens! I’am not going to set back and let you bad mouth are hard working officials anymore!

Stevens: But you do it all the time, you hypocrite!

Riley: But when I do it, I’am right. When you do it, your wrong. End of story.

Williams pulls ELMS down to the mat, and traps him in a body scissors. “Give up ELMS!” shouts Williams as he tightens his grip around his throat. ELMS face turns purple, and his eyes roll up in his head. “ELMS!” BOOM! BOOM! “ELMS!” BOOM! BOOM! encourages the crowd. ELMS tries to fight out of the hold, but he doesn’t have the strength to roll to the ropes this time. ELMS body goes limp, signaling Long to do the infamous hand test. Long raises ELMS hand, releases it, and it drops back to the mat. Williams quickly releases the hold, and stands up. Williams signals to the fans that it’s all over, and traps ELMS head between his knees.

Stevens: What is Williams doing, he almost had this thing won?

Riley: Must I explain to you each time, Stevens. The arm test never works, you cannot knock someone out for three seconds with a submission hold. So Williams is using the one second he has left, to try finish ELMS off with a real Knockout move.

Williams pulls ELMS up by his tights, and wraps his arms around his waist.

Riley: And it looks like that knockout move is going to be......

Stevens: THE DEATHBOOOOMB!

Riley: Damn you Riley!

Stevens: You snooze, you lose.

The crowd instantly rises from their seats, but Williams pauses instead of lifting. Williams has a unsure look on his face, as he nods his head in deep thought. Suddenly, a light bulb goes off and Williams knows what he wants to do. Williams releases ELMS from the standing head scissors, and scoop slams him to the mat! The bored crowd sits back down.

Stevens: and Williams aborts his favorite finisher for a scoop slam?

Riley: What a genius!

Stevens: I don’t understand.

Riley: You never do. Williams had Xero beat the other week, until he attempted his finisher too early. Williams isn’t going to risk making the same mistake twice, so he’s going to wear ELMS down a bit more before bringing out the big guns.

ELMS rolls over on his side to get up, but Williams stops that with a stiff kick to his lower back! THUMP! “GAH!” spits out ELMS. Despite the stinging pain in his back, ELMS knows he has to get back to a vertical base, so he sits up. Williams digs his pivot boot into the mat, and with an “EEEEEEE!” kicks ELMS even harder in the back! THUMP! Williams follows by laying a knife edge chop across his chest! SMACK! Williams follows the chop with another kick! THUMP! Than another chop! SMACK! Than another kick! THUMP! ELMS wobbles and collapses back to the mat. His chest and back now blood red and raw.

Williams jerks the battered ELMS back up by his wrist, and starts firing rabid chops to his neck! ELMS takes about ten chops before collapsing to the mat, but Williams jerks him up again. Williams draws back his hand to fire more mini chops, but ELMS doesn’t give him a chance. ELMS drops to one knee, rolls, cartwheels, and does a one handed front flip to reverse the wristlock! The dead crowd comes back to life with ELM’s flashy reversal.

Stevens: Wow! What a reversal from ELMS.

Riley: A bunch of unnecessary flip flop if you ask me.

Before Williams can figure out what the hell just happened, ELMS chickenwings his arm behind his back, and drives his chin into his shoulder! Williams flops back on the mat, holding his jaw and kicking his legs in the air.

Riley: MONTA.....MONTOZU..NO......UM......Dammit Stevens, this one’s yours!

Stevens: MONTEZUMA’S REVENAGE!

The fans are too excited to stand, and rise to their feet to see if ELMS can pull off the come back. ELMS climbs to his feet, and slowly staggers to the nearest corner. ELMS steps out on the apron, and starts climbing the turnbuckles. ELMS reaches the second turnbuckle, and doses off in mid step. ELMS grip loosens, and he starts to fall off the ring post. The crowd gasps, but ELMS suddenly wakes up and catches himself in time. ELMS lets out a deep breath and shakes his head to try to fully wake himself up. ELMS finally balances himself on the top rope, but Williams pops up and charges at him. ELMS leaps off the top rope anyway and catches Williams in a front facelock! ELMS uses the momentum to spin Williams around.

Stevens: TORNADO DDT!

But Williams keeps his feet planted on the mat, and just tosses ELMS off! ELMS hits the mat face first, and the disappointed fans sit back down.

Riley: Your wrong Stevens! Wrong! Wrong!

ELMS frantically crawls to a corner, and pulls himself up. ELMS’ head slumps down, and Williams charges with his arm extended for the Back Elbow Smash! ELMS raises his head up and sees Williams charging like a pissed bull! CRACK! ELMS catches Williams right in the chin with a hard kick as he rushes in! The pain stops Williams dead in his tracks, and ELMS quickly snaps on a inverted facelock. ELMS springboards on to the second turnbuckle and flips off, driving Williams chin into his shoulder!

Stevens: DIAMOND........

Riley: DIAMOND DUST! Got you that time, Stevens. HaHaHaHaHaHa!

Williams lifelessly bounces off ELMS shoulder, and flops over on his back. The fans jumps out of their seats, and make some noise. ELMS remains sitting up, rubbing his eyes like he just got up in the morning. The crowd’s constant ovation reminds ELMS that he is still in a match. ELMS comes to senses, and lies on top of Williams for the pin. The crowd counts along with Long.

ONE!

TWO!

THREE!

NO! Williams raises his shoulder up. ELMS climbs to his feet, and signals it’s all over. Still on their feet, the crowd gives the biggest pop of the night as ELMS starts climbing the turnbuckles.

Stevens: ELMS is going for the Mexican Press! If he can hit this, he can put Williams away for good.

ELMS reaches the top rope, and gets ready to turn around to leap on to Williams. But Williams is up sooner than ELMS expected. Williams painfully pops his jaw a few times, and spots ELMS climbing the turnbuckles. ELMS still has his back turned to the ring, and is to focused on the faces of his cheering fans to notice. Williams dives for the ropes, and starts shaking them! ELMS loses his balance, and crouches himself on to the top turnbuckle! The cheers are quickly replaced with a loud long “BOOOOOOOOO!”.

Stevens: And ELMS is crouched by a dirty Danny Williams!

Riley: Oh you’ve been crying foul this whole damn match! Williams lost his balance and fell into the ropes. It was clearly accidental.

Williams grabs ELMS’ long black hair, and starts trying to jerk him off the turnbuckle. But ELMS has his hands glued to the ring post. A frustrated Williams steps out on to the apron, and starts hammering the side of ELM’s face with elbow after elbow! Despite the beating, ELMS keeps his hands locked tightly to the ring post! Williams pops him with 6 straight elbows, but ELMS still won’t budge. Williams lets out a frustrated growl, spins around on the apron, and blasts ELMS right in the nose with a SUPER STIFF Back Elbow Smash! CRAAAAAAAAACK! ELMS flies off the turnbuckle, and splats so hard on the mat he bounces over on his belly. The crowd’s “BOOOOs” seamlessly morph into “OOOOOOOs”.

Stevens: OH MY GOD! That is the hardest I have ever seen anybody get hit! I think he knocked ELMS out cold.

Riley: He isn’t out cold, Stevens. He’s dead. ELMS is dead! ELMS is dead! WOHOOOO!

Williams gives the crowd a cocky smirk, and casually steps back into the ring. To the surprise of everyone in the building, ELMS stands up on his own. ELMS staggers to the left, he staggers to the right, and than stumbles backwards into the ropes. The crowd gasps at the sight of ELMS out on his feet. He grabs hold of Long to steady himself and steps off the ropes on his own. ELMS appears to have his legs back, but Long takes one look into his glazed over eyes and says “That’s it”.

Riley: HE’S GOING TO STOP IT, STEVENS! ELMS is too hurt to continue.

Long gets ready to signal it’s over, but ELMS stops him. “I can go on” insists ELMS, and Long has no choice but to let the match continue.

Stevens: NO! ELMS wants to go in! THIS MATCH IS GOING TO CONTINUE! ELMS needs this win, and he’s going to keep fighting until he can’t fight no more.

The fans explode into loud cheers as ELMS shows he still has some fighting spirit left. ELMS cautiously approaches Williams, who just waves him on. ELMS fires a roundhouse kick to Williams’ ribs, but Williams just blocks it, grabs ELMS by his head, and starts driving elbows into his temple and jaw! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!

Riley: ELBOW! ELBOW! ELBOW! ELBOW! ELBOW! ELBOOOOOOW!

Stevens: O.K., O.K., we get the point.

And with that the fans aren’t cheering no more, instead they watch on in a shocked silence. ELMS drops to one knee, and Williams actually backs up to give him some space or maybe just admire his own work. ELMS spits blood on to the mat, mumbles some curses to himself, and stands right back up. ELMS tells Williams to bring it on, and Williams doesn’t keep him waiting.

Williams just grabs his head again, and starts driving more elbows into his temple and jaw! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! ELMS legs cave in, and he collapses to his hands and knees. The arena is as quiet as a church.

Riley: HE DROPPED HIM AGAIN! ELMS IS OUT!

Stevens: ELMS is taking tremendous punishment, me and I don’t think anyone in this arena would blame ELMS if he was to quit right here.

ELMS blindly feels for the mat, finds it and stands right back up. CRACK! Williams sends him back down with a single elbow! “Stay down!” taunts Williams as ELMS lays flat out on his back. ELMS blankly stares up at the arena lights for a few moments, before mechanically climbing back to his feet. CRACK! Williams bashes him with another stiff elbow as he gets up! ELMS crumbles to the mat, and this time Williams hooks his leg for the pin.

Riley: THIS IS IT! WILLIAMS HAS KNOCKED ELMS OUT!

ONE!

TWO!

THREE!

NO! ELMS raises his arm up at the last possible second!

Stevens: NO! HE GOT HIS SHOULDER UP! ELMS has taken some severe punishment, but if anyone can mount a comeback it’s him.

The fans start shouting “MAG-NIF-ICO!” at the top of their lungs. The crowd accompanies the chant with feet stomping so fast and hard that it shakes the arena like an earthquake. Williams raises up on his knees, places his hands on his hips and lets out a frustrated sigh. Williams stands back up, and notices blood running down his arm. To Williams’ surprise it’s his own blood, he searches his arm for the source and finds a gash on his elbow.

Stevens: Williams has actually hit ELMS so hard, that he busted his own elbow open.

Riley: Ha! That’s the only damage ELMS has done to Williams all night. He busted Williams’ elbow with his face! BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

Williams rubs his sore elbow, and starts screeching for ELMS to get back up. ELMS can barely hold his eyes open, as he slowly stands up on shaky legs. Williams spins around, and fires the Rolling Elbow! ELMS ducks and catches Williams in a back waistlock!

Stevens: GERMAN SUPLEX!

Riley: NOOOOOOOOOO!

The fans explode into cheers as Williams looks like he is going to piss himself. ELMS bends his wobbly knees for the lift attempt, but Williams regains his composer and blasts his temple with a back elbow! ELMS releases Williams, and staggers around off balance. Williams spins around, and blasts his jaw with the Rolling Elbow! CRACK! Sweat flies off ELMS’ head as it violently snaps so far to the side that it almost does a 360 spin. ELMS collapses on Williams, who simply steps back and lets ELMS fall flat on his face.

Stevens: DEAR LORD! HE NEARLY TOOK ELMS’ HEAD OFF!

Riley: ELMS IS FINISHED!

Williams wipes some sweat off his forehead, and this time breathes a sigh of relief. But ELMS rolls over, and starts getting back up. A scared Williams jumps back, and draws back his elbow for another strike.

Stevens: I CAN’T BELIEVE IT! ELMS IS GETTING UP....AGAIN! His head must have gone numb, that’s the only explanation I can think of.

Riley: Either that, or the idiot’s to dumb to realize that his brain is being beating to hamburger.

But ELMS can’t straighten his knees, and he collapses back to the mat and shuts his eyes. Williams simply drops to his knees, and covers the seemingly unconscious ELMS with the lateral press. The sound of “BOOOOOOS” drowns out the sound of Long’s hand slapping the mat.

ONE!

TWO!

THREE!

Williams leaps off the mat, with a look of disbelief on his face after Long’s hand hits the mat a third time. Long raises Williams’ hand to make the victory official.

DING! DING! DING!

Funyon: The winner of this match, by pinfall at 20 minutes and 32 seconds, DANNY WILLIAMSSSSSSSSSSSSS!

“BOOS!” rain down upon the ring, as Williams runs laps around the ring with his arms raised triumphantly in the air. “I did it! I did it!” proudly screams Williams over and over again.

Stevens: WHAT AN UPSET! Rookie Danny Williams has convincingly defeated former SWF World Champion, El Luchadore Magnifico! He had to wrestle a near perfect match to do it, but he did it. Williams corrected all the mistakes he made against Xero, and found the winning formula he was looking for to slow down the faster athletes of the SWF!

Riley: Near Perfect! It was perfect! And it’s funny how your going to praise Williams after he wins. Always in the winning corner, eh Stevens, just like Don King.

Stevens: I’am not even going to comment on that, we’ll back after these commercial breaks.

August 17, 2002

"Raynor?"

"Huh?"

We're looking at the Midnight Carnival locker room now, where Raynor has just been interrupted from deep thought.

"I asked," Edwin says from the door frame, "is something wrong? You've been real quite all day."

Raynor shrugs. "It's nothing."

Edwin nods... cautiously... before slipping out of the doorway...

Raynor waits a few moments, until MacPhisto's footsteps fade away, then he slowly leans over the side of the couch and begins rifling through his duffel bag...

"What the-"

He had been hoping for his CD Player, but instead his hand comes up with a videotape... and a note. Raynor looks up at the door, making sure no one's around, then tears the note off and holds it up, reading it aloud...

"I thought he wouldn't tell you...see things for yourself for once. -S."

His head snaps towards the door - someone walks by, not stopping... he gets up and pushes the door shut...

"... Silent?"

Raynor looks to the TV... then back down at the tape... he heads over to the TV, slips the tape in the VCR, and falls back in a nearby chair.

The audio is static-ridden, with only bits and pieces coming through... but the look on Raynor's face says more than enough.

"Ji......d Nath....as bee..........than- no, i....ersed......immy...pulls hi.........ck!"

Raynor flinches at the sight.

"Unio...ack!.....athan's no....oving..."

The flickering image is reflected in Raynor's eyes, which are widening by the moment. He leans forward in his chair, mesmerized by what's on the screen...

"Goes....ver......ait...... Jimm...ot fini...........oing?......o....wh....e doi...."

The remote control, and the hand holding it, begin to shake...

"Oh n......o...immy, th..............too f......ot lik....is....no!"

*CLICK*

The picture vanishes. Raynor continues to stare at the TV for the longest time... he doesn't even notice when the door swings open and Magnifico calls out to him.

"Raynor?"

Z squeezes in between Mags and the door frame to see this... he slowly steps towards his comrade...

"Dude? Raynor?... you ok?"

Raynor slowly turns to Z, his face an absolute train wreck of emotions... he starts to speak, then cuts himself off... looks back to the TV...

"...I have to go."

He stands up and snatches the tape from the VCR-

"Raynor, what's wrong?"

-stuffs it in his duffel bag, slings it over his shoulder-

"What is it, man?"

-pushes between Magnifico and Z-

"Come on, talk to us!"

-and dissapears down the hallway...

August 17, 2002

Storm is back on the air, traversing time and space from the SmartMarks broadcasting network to millions of television sets equipped with cable nationwide. Where once was blackness of empty space, now there are the myriad colors of the Smarks Wrestling Federation!

“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome back to Storm! The following match is probably what Stubby intended to be his main event, but thanks to Sarah, it’ll be the match to cap off our first hour of action: Sacred, and the newly returned Perfect Bo, representing Creative Control, will battle the unlikely team of Thoth, and the world champion, Edwin MacPhisto.”

“Both of those two have come off heartbreaking losses: Thoth, one week ago, being pinned by Edwin in that blockbuster three-way World Title match, and Edwin, on Smarkdown, losing the tag team titles to the team with the greatest name ever, Chilly Chilly Bang Bang.”

“I doubt Thoth really wants to co-exist with Edwin, and that Edwin’s heart is really into competition at this time, sad as that notion may seem.”

“New York City” by Cam’ron and Jay-Z blares over the PA defiantly, triumphantly, as explosions decorate the entryway with bright lights and sound. From the back, Perfect Bo and Sacred power their way to the ring, backs bent forward slightly, walking with power and purpose.

“The following tag team contest is scheduled for one fall! Introducing first, representing Creative Control, at a total combined weight 516 pounds... SAAAAACRED! ... and PERRRRFECT BOOOO!”

“Man, I can’t believe Pete bought Bo’s line…can you imagine Bo trying to fit in with XF9, Mark? A gang-banger trying to fit in with a bunch of white, pansy geeks. They’d probably run and hide in terror if he pulled out a blunt or a forty! Hee hee hee... that’d make a great plot for a sitcom.”

“No it wouldn’t, Bobbi.” Stevens tries to push the idea that Bobby Riley might, in some capacity, have a semi-decent idea, as the members of Creative Control get in the ring. The lights dim blue, and then quickly turn red, as the main riffs of “Quarantined” start immediately.

“And, their opponents... first, weighing in at 236 pounds, he represents the Clan... THOOOTH!”

Thoth comes out, marching quickly, then slows his pace, stopping in the center of the ramp. He looks up and out at his competition. “Thoth hasn’t been the same since he lost those two big matches back to back... let’s see if he can regain some focus with a win here.”

“Quarantined” fades, and the haunting voices of “Battleflag” by the Lo-Fidelity All Stars announce that the inevitable arrival of the World Champion has come. A crackle over the PA... and then his voice.

“Ladies and gentlemen, though I am no longer tag team champion, I still know how to mix it up mano a mano... a mano a mano. I’m gonna put a hurtin’ on Bo, and I know my boy Thoth can take Sacred... so my question to you... is this.”

“What about Ced?”

The crowd pops for that one, and a teenage boy holding a “What about Ced?” sign goes apeshit as the vocals drop in and Edwin walks out from the back, stretching his arms out and walking coolly down the ramp.

“And, his partner, from Amsterdam, England, weighing in at 239 pounds, he is the leader of the Midnight Carnival... and the S-W-F Champion... EDWIIIN MACCPHIIIISTO!”

Thoth looks over his shoulder at his partner for the day, and finishes approaching the ring, now that the numbers are even. They slide into the ring, causing Bo and Sacred to back up. Thoth and Edwin take off their jackets, and Bo smirks, showing his shiny white teeth. Sacred hunches down, ready to fight. Edwin and Bo go to the apron as the lights come back to their natural luminance, and the bell rings.

*DING DING DING*

Thoth and Sacred take off towards each other with a collar and elbow tie-up, but Sacred pushes Thoth’s arms up and out of harm’s way, and quickly grabs a waistlock with a huff of breath. Thoth, frantically, dodges to the left, and then to the right, but Sacred’s lock is secure. He heaves, and lifts Thoth back, slamming his shoulders into the canvas with a German! He tries to bridge, but Thoth has way too much fight left in him and escapes with ease. He pops up to his feet, as does Sacred, then approaches the Aussie carefully, trying to fake him out with a sudden step, in hopes of him making a mistake. Sacred doesn’t buy it, holding fast, keeping his feet planted and his nerves steady. Another lockup. “Second lock-up,” calls Stevens, “same result?” Sacred tries to push Thoth back again, but the Balancer plants his front foot, bracing himself, and then rolling out to the side, seizing Sacred’s elbow and locking him into an armbar. He twists it... slowly, drawing a muffled, reluctant cry from Sacred, and holds it tight. The Balancer bends his other arm and slams his elbow onto the middle of Sacred’s, and the Aussie cries out again. Thoth lifts the elbow again to try the same maneuver, but Sacred drops to a knee and bends under his own arm, reversing the twist, rising up fast… and putting the armbar back onto Thoth!

“These two used to be bitter rivals,” says Stevens. “It’s remarkable that these once hot-tempered individuals aren’t letting their anger get the best of them, here. We may be in for an evenly-matched technical showdown…”

Sacred sticks a leg out and sweeps it backward, tripping Thoth and locking the armbar in even tighter. It’s the Balancer’s turn to cry out in pain as Sacred bears down... but Thoth spins around, kicking up to his feet and subsequently reversing the arm bar with such force it takes Sacred over in a sort of Japanese Arm Drag. Sacred hits hard as the arms uncoil, but gets to his feet and immediately charges at Thoth... who meets his charge and takes him over in a big flipping arm drag, slamming Sacred to the mat. Thoth ends up on his stomach, but pushes up quickly and rushes over to Sacred, who is finding his own way to his feet. The Balancer snaps on a chinlock and pumps away, drawing a decent pop from the crowd. Sacred’s eyes go wide as he’s suddenly bewildered, but he flails wildly and runs backwards. Thoth holds on for dear life as Sacred eventually backs him up into the corner, ramming Thoth into the ringpost and freeing himself from the chinlock.

“Wow,” remarks Riley, “That’s the second time I’ve seen a man ride another Aussie man.”

“I assume, Bobbi, that I, under no circumstances, want to hear about the first time.”

“Well, actually, it’s an interesting story. I was a rookie, real green, and I-”

“Yeah, I thought so.” Sacred turns around with a vicious right hand, striking Thoth in the cheek with his forearm, and knocking him off his feet. He moves his hand the other way, and smacks him across the chest, drawing the redness to the surface and a “Woo!” from the crowd. Another rigid forearm blow... and another chop! The crowd reels with each blow, feeling the impact in their seats. Sacred snatches one of Thoth’s wrists and pushes him towards the opposite corner, and the Balancer’s back shakes the ringpost as Sacred charges in with reckless abandon...and Thoth gets the boot up! The impact whirls Sacred around 180 degrees, and Thoth wastes no time making his move, leaping into the air and extending a leg which Sacred runs into face first as he spins around. “Ace heel kick from Thoth—Sacred went for the splash too soon, and it cost him!” Sacred goes down, but relentless Thoth pulls him back and whips him into the ropes... no, reversal, and Thoth goes for the ride. Sacred sticks a leg of his own out, trying to take Thoth’s face off, hopefully, but the Balancer stops his momentum by dropping to one knee. Before Sacred can react, Thoth shoves his hand, fingers outstretched, up and into the soft underpinings of his foe’s chin. Sacred clutches at the affected area, going down to his knees.

“There’s a lot of nerve endings behind the chin, under the mouth. Thoth has a keen knowledge of the nervous system, and he’s using it right now against Sacred to slow the pace of the match way down,” suggests Stevens.

Thoth slows his rate of movement down, allowing himself to breathe and relax as Sacred struggles to swallow. He gets behind The Sacred One and meticulously hooks his arm under his own legs, then wraps the other one around his shoulders... lifts, and snaps! The fans give a cheer as Sacred crashes down hard!

“That’s Thoth’s patented Pumphandle Suplex... he drops his opponent on his chest rather than his back. A very unique maneuver,” says Mark Stevens. “I think he may have actually invented that maneuver.”

“Wow, Stevens. In that ten-second period, you managed to bore half the audience. Lemme show you how it’s done.” Riley rubs his palms together, inhales deeply... and...

“THIS IS TOTAL NONSTOP ACTION! WOW! CAN YOU BELIEVE THIS?”

“Oh Jesus. Riley, shut UP.” Thoth lifts Sacred up, and whips him again, but Sacred hugs the rope as he bounces into it, and rolls off towards his corner, tagging Bo in as he catches his breath. Thoth curses under his breath as the massive, near 300-pounder steps through the ropes and stands near upright, only bending forward slightly in anticipation of getting his hands around Thoth’s neck. Thoth goes in quickly for a lock-up, but Bo sidesteps and throws a heavy right hook! Thoth stumbles, but Bo keeps the pressure on, kicking Thoth in the stomach... again... and again...finally, Thoth is doubled over, and Bo wastes zero time: the Perfect One pulls him into a standing headscissor, quickly lifts him up for a short piledriver…and connects, crunching Thoth against the canvas!

“Perfect Bo busting out the power moves early on, stunning Thoth!” shouts Stevens. Thoth bounces off the mat and claws at the canvas, shaking out his head as he slowly fights his way back up, his eyes half closed. Bo, kind gentlemen that he is, helps him all the way up to his feet by pulling on his hair. He swings with a vicious uppercut, and another, but Thoth stumbles through them, spins on his heel…and comes back with a stiff roundhouse kick to the jaw, temporarily stunning Bo and knocking him away! Edwin, from behind, yells for the tag. Thoth frowns, and then with a twinge of regret and hesitation, makes the tag. The crowd gives a cheer as Edwin comes in, but Thoth slams his fist into the turnbuckle with disappointment. “Thoth wants revenge, but tagging to fresh Edwin is the smart move here…”

Edwin comes into the ring and does a little spin, raising his arms into the air, getting the crowd firmly on his side as he approaches the rising Bo. Edwin pulls the big Bronx bomber off the ropes and unloads with a thick chop, staggering Bo. Eddie Mac fires again, lighting up Bo’s chest as the crowd fires the requisite “WOO!” Edwin rears back for a third chop—no, Bo catches it with his left hand, then clips Edwin across the jaw with a big right hook! Bo yanks his target right into a front facelock, then kicks out his feet and falls back, drilling Edwin’s skull down with a DDT! Huffing and puffing, Bo clambers back to his feet, Edwin still in tow…and falls back, scoring another DDT!

“Bo always focuses his attack on the neck,” comments Riley, as Bo drills Edwin with a THIRD rolling DDT, “because everything Bo does is a setup for that one majestic move…the Perfect Pain.” Riley seems to drift off into the ecstasy of describing heel psychology while Bo drags Edwin away from the ropes for the cover!

“First cover of the night!” shouts Stevens, and the referee dives to count…

ONE!

TWO—and Edwin kicks out, dizzied but not done for! Bo pulls Edwin up and presses the attack with a kneelift into an Irish whip, and Edwin comes back off the ropes right into Bo’s arms. Bo flips Edwin up and over…

“Tilt-a-whirl slam!”

…but on the way down, Edwin gets his arm around Bo’s neck and uses the massive man’s momentum against him, slipping out of the slam and pasting Bo into the mat with an inverted DDT! “Big reversal from the Mac Daddy—cover!” Edwin hooks the leg as Bo thrashes!

ONE!

T—and Bo forces his way out. Like a raging bull Bo rockets to his feet, charging Edwin with an angry clothesline, easily ducked and dodged. Bo turns—and walks right into a running Shotei! He spins around 180 degrees as Edwin blows past him and runs the ropes, bouncing off and returning…and drilling Bo with a second running Shotei! The strike plows into Bo’s face, and as Edwin follows through the Perfect One takes a perfect fall and crashes to the mat! “Two blazing palm strikes and Bo is down—here comes Edwin for another cover!” The Mac Daddy comes back around and slides in for the lateral press…

ONE!

TWO—and Bo shoves up forcefully, shooting Edwin three feet into the air as he breaks the cover! Bo looks particularly angry as he stalks back to his feet, but in Edwin’s corner there’s someone looking even angrier—Thoth! The Balancer motions to Edwin, who bolts past Bo with a big dive, making for Thoth…and making the tag! “Thoth’s in—he’s eager to get a little vengeance on Bo from earlier in the match!” The crowd cheers as Thoth grabs the top rope from the apron, looks towards the oncoming Bo…and slingshots himself over the top with a big crossbody block! The Balancer lands on top of Bo, but rolls off.

“Why isn’t he covering?” snaps Riley.

“That’s why, Bobby!” The crowd roars as, at the same time Thoth rolls off, Edwin MacPhisto hops up to the second rope, then the top rope, and then springs backward with a picture-perfect moonsault! Flashbulbs erupt as the Mac Daddy crashes down on Bo’s ribs and bounces away, leaving Thoth one hell of an opportunity! “High-flying double-team from Edwin and Thoth, and that could be enough!” The ref dives to count as Thoth hooks the leg…but before he can get one, Sacred drives a seated dropkick into Thoth’s head! The Balancer loses his hold on Bo as Sacred wrenches him up and away, blasting him with forearm blows and whipping him to the ropes! Thoth bounces back and Sacred receives him with a stranglehold!

“Spanish Inquisition! Spanish Inquisition!” But before Sacred can hit his modified Rock Bottom, Edwin MacPhisto spears his legs out from under him with a big shoulder block, taking Sacred out and freeing Thoth!

“Edwin blocks it—and here we go!” The Mac Daddy crawls over Sacred and pounds away at him with mounted punches, working the crowd into a frenzy! “Edwin, Sacred, and Thoth WERE the ICTV division earlier this year! There’s bad blood all around, and Edwin is taking some of that out on Sacred right now!” The Mac Daddy pounds away, while meanwhile, Thoth thanks his good fortune, turns to engage the legal man…

…and gets clotheslined out of his frickin’ boots.

“WHOA! Have you ever seen such power, Mark?”

“Bobby, I’ll admit--”

“THIS IS TOTAL NONSTOP ACTION! WOW! THIS IS THE GREATEST THING EVER!”

“…please…just…die.”

The Balancer hits the mat with a dull thump, totally disoriented by Bo’s stiff shot. Across the ring, Sacred gets a foot on the ropes, kicks off, and manages to reverse Edwin’s mount into a mounted stranglehold of his own. The referee moves to break it, but meanwhile, Bo scoops Thoth up, knees him in the gut, and hits the ¾ facelock! “Perfect Pain!” cries Riley, and the crowd is on its feet, but Thoth comes to just in time and shoves Bo away into the ropes! Bo bounces back with fury, and Thoth runs to greet him with a high-leg clothesline, but the bigger Bo takes the initiative and levels Thoth with a running elbow charge. As Thoth crawls for the ropes, Bo scoops him, hits a stunning fist to the back of the neck, and then takes the immobilized Thoth up onto his shoulders! Bo roars once and spins, taking in the whole scope of the arena: the fans chanting “BO SUCKS,” Sacred shoving the referee away, Edwin struggling to get out of the choke…and, entirely satisfied with what he sees, Bo flips Thoth around and drives him down neckfirst over his knee! The Balancer cracks off with a wet snap and limply falls to the mat, and Bo covers!

“Fireman’s carry into a nasty neckbreaker—cover!” Bo hooks Thoth’s leg, and the referee hesitates for a moment, having to leave Edwin in the illegal choke while he counts the pin. He dives to count as Bo shouts for him to get his ass in gear, and Sacred dumps Edwin outside the ring…

ONE!

TWO!

THR—and Thoth kicks out at the last second!

“Slow count!” rants Riley. “If the ref had gotten there sooner, Bo could have won!”

Deeply frustrated, Bo pulls Thoth up straight into a standing Tazzmission, while Sacred backs up, targets Edwin, and bolts for the ropes, leaping out of the ring and crashing onto Edwin with a plancha! “Sacred and Edwin are on the outside, and this is breaking down—it’s down to Thoth and Bo in the ring, and Thoth could seriously use some back-up!” The crowd boos wildly and Thoth tries to get his feet on the ground, but the immensely powerful Bo wrenches back and hoists him into the air, thrashing him around violently in the Wild Out submission!

“Thoth’ll tap—if he can even get to the mat, that is!” cackles Riley. As Thoth thrashes, chaos continues outside the ring: Sacred pulls Edwin up, wraps the Mac Daddy’s arms across his neck, and falls forward to drill him with a stiff neckbreaker. “And a Knifey-Spoony from Sacred to Edwin on the outside—there’s just too much violence for me to take in!” Bo continues to drag Thoth around, keeping him away from the ropes, but the Balancer’s thrashing is too strong: Thoth get his feet back on the mat, and the Clansman immediately tries to drag himself and his 290 pound cargo to the ropes. Ring veteran Bo quickly grapevines Thoth’s leg and trips him to the mat, thundering him down and still keeping the submission on tight! The ref gets in Thoth’s face calling for the submission as Bo tries to lock a body-scissors on the Balancer, but Thoth won’t quit! “If Bo gets that body-scissors on, Thoth’ll be completely immobilized and won’t be able to protect his damaged neck! He’ll have to give up!”

“Thoth’ll never tap, Bobby! He passed out in Chris Wilson’s Finishing Touches rather than tap! Bo won’t get an inch out of him!” Bo keeps trying for the body-scissors, but Thoth ferociously snaps his legs backwards, kicking Bo’s away, worming his way towards the ropes…meanwhile, outside the ring, Sacred pulls Edwin up for a whip into the guardrail. Edwin clangs into the metal backfirst and cries out, but as Sacred dashes forward with a flying forearm, Edwin dives to the side, and Sacred slams into the railing himself! Sacred comes off in a rage and swings a forearm shot for Edwin, but the Mac Daddy blocks, wraps his arms around Sacred in a rear waistlock, and immediately vaults backward!

CRUUUUNCH!

“German suplex on the outside! Sacred’s neck just got driven right into that concrete, and he’s got to hurting!” The crowd cheers as Edwin takes Sacred down and Thoth inches towards the ropes, but the cheers are suddenly replaced with jeers as a figure comes dashing down the entrance ramp. Edwin turns…and his blood runs cold as Chris Wilson comes into view! “It’s Chris Wilson! He has no business being out here!”

“Edwin’s out here—THAT’S his business!” The Mac Daddy immediately bolts away from the recovering Sacred to a big crowd cheer, charging to meet Wilson…while inside, the referee panics! He looks out of the ring…and sees Edwin fire a kick right into Wilson’s gut for the first blow! The ref turns back to see Thoth’s hand just an inch from the ropes.

“Thoth’s got it…”

Sacred starts to climb into the ring…

Thoth reaches out…

…AND BO WRENCHES THOTH AWAY FROM THE ROPES! The crowd deflates as the Balancer’s hand is yanked away from salvation…and then the crowd explodes as he spins on the mat and gets his foot up on the very same rope! “Thoth did it! He made the ropes--”

“But now he’s got to deal with Sacred AND Bo, all by himself! Look, Mark—Edwin’s abandoned his tag partner again!” Edwin hammers Wilson with punches, and whips him into the guardrail while inside the ring, Bo rips Thoth off the ropes and throws him to the Creative Control corner! “Just like he bailed on Raynor, Edwin’s left Thoth to the dogs! The Balancer’s been in almost the whole match, and he must be exhausted!” Sacred catches him in a rear choke…and Bo barrels forward to crunch Thoth with an avalanche. Bo makes the tag to Sacred and the Aussie comes into the ring, pounding Thoth back into the corner with sharp kicks and stiff forearms.

“This should be a disqualification!” shouts Stevens, as Wilson trips Edwin up and slams him against the ramp, moving ever-closer to ringside. “Wilson attacked Edwin--”

“Not quite, Mark! Edwin made the first strike—the ref can’t disqualify CC if Edwin initiated the fight!”

“But--”

“Rules are rules, Mark!” And the ref seems to agree, shifting focus to the outside, and shouting at Edwin to return. As Thoth takes a brutal Tiger Suplex to the center of the ring from Sacred, Edwin’s a man possessed, trading punches with Wilson, totally ignoring the tag match and his partner at hand. Sacred follows up with a ring-rocking German, leaving Thoth broken and battered. He pulls Thoth up and jams him into a tight front facelock, and the crowd roars with boos, shifting their attention between Thoth’s predicament in the ring and Wilson’s battery of Edwin outside the ring! “Sacred’s got Thoth all locked up for the Cruel Fate, and this could be it!” Sacred goes to fall forward…and Thoth suddenly stands up, backdropping Sacred up and over to a big pop! The Balancer turns…and Bo dives through the ropes, charging up, grabbing his neck—

“Look out, Thoth!”

WHAAAM! And hitting the Perfect Pain! “Thoth is down! Sacred just needs to cover him!” Bo lets out a roar, but the ref’s attention is still on Edwin and Wilson…when suddenly a stiff steel cane is driven into Bo’s head!

“What the—it’s Silent! Where the hell did he come from?!? The ref’s back is turned!” The crowd is booing loudly as the Silent One spins, drives the cane into Bo’s jaw, and takes him down with a second, a third, a fourth steel cane shot! Sacred charges up, and Silent dashes to meet him, holding the cane out and leveling Sacred with a steel lariat! And just like that, Silent dives out of the ring! “It all happened so fast!” cries Stevens, as the ref turns around to see three bodies laid out before him. “Silent came out of the crowd, leveled Bo and Sacred, did it all in maybe 10 seconds flat! But why?”

“To help Thoth, of course!”

“But Bobby—Edwin’s on this team too! What the hell is going on?” Wilson and Edwin completely miss Silent as he stalks up the ramp, grinning, while the ref tries to make sense of what happened. Failing to do so, he watches as Thoth and Sacred slowly, agonizingly crawl towards each other…and Thoth gets there first, draping his hand over Sacred’s chest! “Bo’s out cold--don’t win like this, Thoth, don’t!”

ONE!

TWO!

THR—and Sacred kicks out! “Sacred kicked out of that steel cane shot! Amazing!” On the ramp, Silent looks mildly miffed…and just outside the ring, Edwin blocks a Wilson Last Resort into a drop toehold, clanging his nemesis’s head into the guardrail! The tired champ starts to crawl back into the ring, where Thoth struggles to his feet, still dizzy from the Perfect Pain! He drags Sacred behind him and pulls him into a standing headscissors, and the crowd roars! “Now he’s got it—Riot of the Blood!” The Balancer scoops Sacred up, hooks his left leg for the cradle tombstone…and Sacred gets his right leg up with a kick to the face, then snakes it around Thoth’s neck, blocking the piledriver!

“Sacred’s blocked it! Thoth can’t hold him!” cackles Riley, as Thoth strains to hold Sacred in place, the toll of the boot wrapped around his neck growing…growing…Sacred slipping…

…until Edwin MacPhisto staggers forward and seizes the right leg, pulling it off Thoth and hooking it himself! The crowd roars as Edwin and Thoth lock eyes, nod…

“This is it! The move that beat Chris Wilson, the double Riot of the Blood!”

…and drop to their knees, crunching Sacred’s head against the mat! Edwin falls away, keeping an eye on Bo as Thoth collapses across the Sacred One! The ref dives in, and Bo starts to stir, crawling towards Sacred…

ONE!

Getting closer…

TWO!

Almost there…until Edwin grabs his leg, stopping him in his tracks!

THREEEEEEEEEE!

The bell rings, and the crowd explodes! “They did it—Thoth and Edwin pulled the comeback and took Sacred out thanks to the double-team Riot of the Blood!”

“Thanks to Silent, you mean!”

“Your winners, by pinfall,” bellows Funyon, “Edwin MacPhisto, and THOOOOOOOTH!” The crowd cheers as “Quarantined” starts to blare over the speakers, and Edwin and Thoth climb to their feet as Bo and Sacred share a few shouts. Outside the ring, Wilson collects himself and pounds his fist into the apron…and inside the ring, Thoth and Edwin catch sight of Silent.

“Uh-oh…this can’t be good…” mumbles Mark. Edwin stares, open-mouthed, then turns to Thoth and shouts!

“Did he do this? Is HE why we won?” The Balancer shouts back, trying to explain that he had no idea Silent would be here…but Edwin’s not having it. The Mac Daddy dives out of the ring, away from Silent, away from Wilson, and disappears into the crowd, leaving Thoth standing alone.

“Edwin and Thoth win tonight, but has their alliance finally cracked because of Silent?”

“Where does Silent stand with Thoth, Mark? Was he helping him? Was he making a statement? Augh! All this intractable tension is driving me nuts—I’m going to wet myself!”

“That’s…lovely, Bobby. The fact of the matter is this: Edwin and Thoth win with Silent’s help, after Edwin barely escapes the wrath of Chris Wilson, and I’ll tell you what: Sacred and Bo have a LOT of people to be pissed at after tonight. We’ll be back after this, when we see that bastard Silent take on the Boston Strangler…”

August 17, 2002

Honey, I'm home!"

Edwin, battered and bruised, pushes the door to the Midnight Carnival locker room open, to find Magnifico and Z looking up at him expectantly.

"... I was framed?"

Neither member of his audience so much as smiles. Z pipes up, after a pause...

"Raynor left."

"... well I know the party just ain't the same without him, but-"

"Edwin... he was watching something... a tape of something... and when we came back, he just... ran off."

It takes only a second to register with Edwin, as the dropped jaw would indicate... he begins to go into a blank stare, just like Raynor's, when Z stands up, looking at him expectantly, and asks:

"What's going on?"

August 17, 2002

We return to SWF Storm as “Burn to Burn” fades slowly from the sound system The camera focuses on the Boston Strangler, who stands in the center of the ring, waiting on the arrival of his opponent…

“Welcome back to SWF Storm, sports fans! I am ‘Grand Slam’ Mark Stevens, and to my left is the ineffable Bobby Riley! Later tonight, we’ll see a confrontation between the leader of X Force Nine, Loggdogger Pete, and Chris Wilson for the ICTV championship!”

“As if there was some sort of doubt as to the outcome,” yawns Riley. “Wilson’s going to mop the floor with Ye Olden Longdogger tonight.”

”You never know, Riley. You never know.”

”Actually, I do know. I know Wilson’s going to win.”

Stevens sighs. “Fine. Whatever. Anyway, folks, the next match we have scheduled is a contest between Silent and the Boston Strangler. Strangler’s been on a bit of a losing streak recently, and you know that will weigh heavily on his mind tonight as-wait a minute, there’s Silent! What the hell is he doing?”

The crowd erupts into boos as the Slaughterer bolts through the crowd and over the guard rail, cane in hand, and slides into the ring. Strangler catches a glimpse of something moving quickly out of the corner of his eye…

FWOOOOOOOOSH! THUNK!

…And drops to the canvas in a heap, blood streaming from his temple as Silent pulls a microphone out of his coat!

”Jesus Christ!” yells Stevens. “The bell hasn’t even rung yet…what the hell is Silent doing?”

”Edwin…” breathes the Silent One, “You are willing…to sacrifice….your friends….to me….but this man…has nothing to do…with us…will you condemn him…as you condemned….your friends, MacPhisto? All you have to do….is come…to the ring…”

There is a long, long silence in the Target Arena as Silent’s demand reverberates through the building…

…Just before “Quarantined” hits the speakers?

August 17, 2002

“Silent! Silent!” The voice from the back comes. “I’m not Edwin, but you should let go of Strangler.” And the voice belongs to the Balancer. Thoth, dressed in his wrestling attire, walks down the ramp, microphone in hand. “Let go of him.” Thoth’s voice is no more plaintive each time he asks, but he rolls into the ring and steps forward. Silent lets the Boston Strangler go, suddenly more interested in his Clan brother. Thoth starts to pace back and forth.

“Well,” remarks Mark Stevens, “Silent hoping to finally get ahold of Edwin MacPhisto, but he gets Thoth, his former tag team partner instead.”

“Silent,” Thoth begins, unsure of how to address the man standing abreast of him right now. “You came back at the Pay Per View last month... and not even a hello. We used to be the best of friends, Silent... I watched your back! I tagged with you and Nekura! I fought at your side for months on end!" The Balancer's voice grows slightly louder as he works himself up. "I cared about you! You owe me an explanation for...for all of this...” Thoth gestures towards the bloodied Boston Strangler, who rolls out of the ring, murder in his eyes.

Silent leans towards the ropes, looking at Strangler, then gets back up. “Ha ha ha ha... you cared about me? I owe you an explanation? Yuuichiro, I don’t owe you shit.” Thoth’s jaw slackens slightly as Silent senses he has the mental upper hand. “Let’s not forget the pecking order back in our ML days. It was Spider Nekura... then me,” he says, pointing to himself, “Then you,” pointing to Thoth. “You were on the bottom of the totem pole. So don’t step into this ring and cop an attitude. Besides... you don’t know where I’ve been.”

“What...” says Thoth, speculatively. “Does this have to do with Edwin? Look, I-”

“STOP... right there, Kaesame. You have no right whatsoever to broach that subject. What happened there...between us...happened long before your time. If you want to be Clan ‘buddies’,” adds Silent snidely, making motions with his fingers, “That’s fine. I’ll be your Clan ‘buddy’. But do NOT fuck with me. My business here has nothing to do with the Clan, and nothing to do with you."

“Oh, is that so... Damien? You know what happened the last time I fucked with you? I beat you in a Hell in a Cell match for the IGNML World Championship.”

“Oh... you... beat me? Let’s see... I didn’t let go of your leg willingly?”

Thoth closes his eyes, remembering... he did let go.

*(You’ll never be as powerful as me!)*

“Fine... fine... but if you don’t want me knowing what your problem is with Edwin MacPhisto... how about I go to Spider and find out myself?”

Silent starts to chuckle to himself, then laughs out loud. This whole time, the crowd has been deathly quiet, unsure of how to react, what to say, or even think. “Reece? Jesus, Kaesame, you give him too much credit." The Slaughterer steps closer to Thoth, putting the two almost nose to nose. "There are two people in this building tonight who understand my...issue..." he spits, "with MacPhisto, and Nekura isn't one of them. I never told him shit he didn't NEED to know...Edwin was one of the things he didn't exactly need."

"Two things, young Balancer. Two things you should keep in mind, since you've gotten it into your head that we're...'buddies'," Silent sneers. "Number one: Spider’s gone. Vanished back to Japan, or wherever the hell he goes. Left without a trace. Not even the rest of the Clan knows where he went. So you can’t go crying back to your sugar daddy.”

Thoth flinches at that remark.

“And second of all...” Silent suddenly leans into Thoth’s ear...

“My name is Kibagami. Nathan Kibagami,” he whispers.

Silent leaves to “Retribution” as Thoth is left in the ring, dumbfounded. Bobby Riley, either too brave or too stupid, breaks the silence.

“Goddamn, Thoth is such a pussy!”

“I doubt it, Riley, he’s just in...well...some sort of shock, I think. That encounter was short... but I think it raised more questions than Thoth was ready for.”

The camera starwipes to commercial as Thoth is left in the ring, stunned...

August 17, 2002

The reflection stared back at him from the balcony as he looked out through the glass, watching as the night clouds reflected the neon signs of the Target Centre in a spiral of light. Some would consider it pretty, in a gaudy way perhaps. He however found now pleasure in the view, far to man made and artificial for his liking though in that wonderful contradiction that followed his life around, here he was standing in one of the arena’s private suites. But it was also one of his hallmarks, an evidently simply life and goal, while the core was a chaos of emotions and desires.

Perhaps that was where he drew his strength. Ah, a redundant question, he knew exactly where he drew his strength from and the power he contained. Self-doubt was not something he was known for. No, he was known for one thing and one thing alone…

A sharp rap at the door made him look over from his stair out onto the balcony and utter a short command to enter to whom ever was at the door. Slowly the door swung open and the form of the current SWF Hardcore champion stepped into the room, sans belt thankfully, he always did hate that grandiose display of arrogance.

Jay Dawg nodded politely in his direction, walking over to the drinks cabinet and fixing himself a quick beverage. “You need to read this and sign it.” Jay told him, handing over the document in question. “It’s just a formality, keeps everything nice and legal.” He replied to the unspoken question.

He nodded slightly in agreement as he ran his eyes over the wording of the contract. “Hrm, immune from prosecution for any bodily harm that may be inflicted on an opponent during the course of a match. I always did like that part of the contract.” An amused expression flashed its way across to Jay, who returned it with a grin of his own making.

“You’re talking to the man who abuses that privilege each and every time I step into the ring.” Jamie replied with a callous smirk, downing the rest of his drink and placing the crystal glass back to the stand.

He looked away again, glancing back to the gaudy man made art. “I had noticed, yes. You’ve made the hardcore division your own. Impressive, considering the last man to truly do that was Neilsen.”

Jamie’s jaw clamped somewhat with that name echoing around the room for a moment, his memories of the Jungle King not being of the most pleasant. “Yeah well, what ever. It’s my yard now and no one is takin it from me.”

“As it should be.” He replied in a calm tone, turning again and handing him the signed contract. “You’ve come a long way Jamie, it’s good to see you starting to realise your potential. What else do you have to take care of tonight?”

Jamie took the contract and placed it back in his pocket with a slight smile at the compliment, then a shake of the head. “Annie Electric.” He replied in a less then happy tone.

He mused on her name for a second, then nodded slightly. “You should talk to the Clan about her.”

A look of confusion flashed over Jamie’s face. “Why?” He enquired, slightly lost.

“She left the Clan, no one ever leaves the Clan and lives.” He stated in a mater of fact way, before pausing and smirking slightly. “Well… There was one exception to prove the rule…”

“Oh yeah, who?” Jamie asked in a combination of confusion and interest.

The smirk disappeared on his face, replaced as it was with a dead pan look and tone. “Stone Froze Jack Houston.” The sarcasm was deep and evident in his voice.

“Right.” Jamie dead paned back, pacing across the room in turn as he thought back on subject. “So you’re saying use the Clan to take care of Annie for me? Doesn’t sound like your style, man.”

“It’s not.” He once again replied simply. “But it’ll do for you right now and keep the Clan occupied.”

“I dunno, Stubby really doesn’t like those guys.” The tendrils of doubt entered Jamie’s mind as he mused upon the idea.

“McWeed will understand.” He stated with some force. “Besides,” He added quickly, calming his tone. “An ally is more powerful then an enemy and Creative Control is mounting those up, quickly.”

“Well fuck.” Jamie stated with some annoyance. “Go all Zen Buddha on me why don’t you.”

“Heh, one of my many talents.” His voice echoed out with out emotion in it, a simple statement of fact more then anything. “Now let’s go say hello to the Clan.”

“We?” Jamie asked of him with some surprise.

“I’ll listen in from the shadows.” He replied in another statement, heading for the door.

Jamie shook his head as he watched him walk out. “Alright…”

The two walked down the halls of the arena at a fast pace, the few crews they passed paying little attention to the two of them, almost as if they weren’t there. “So… How come you know so much about the Clan, anyhow?” Jamie enquired as they walked down the stairwell.

“It’s a long story…” He replied, for a moment his expression very far away.

Jamie nodded slightly, not wishing to press the matter with him as he walked up to the right door and turned to him for a final time, only to see nothing at all in his line of sight. “Where the fuck did you go this time?!”

“Right here.” A voice with no home replied from the shadows. “Now knock.”

JD knocks on the door. He looks at his wrist, checking the imaginary time. Finally, after waiting for about twenty seconds, the door opens. JD calmly tilts his head to his left, looking straight at the man inside. Deep into the background, the audience can be heard booing out loud for the man opening the door. The man, known as the Scum of the Earth. Fallout looks back at JD, the silence is only interrupted by the thousands upon thousands of fans wailing for the destruction of Fallout. Jay Dawg finally breaks the silence.

Jamie: “How’s it going, Fallout? I came to see Spider.”

Fallout coldly looks forward, staring at JD.

Fallout: “He’s not in right now. What do you want, Jay Dawg.”

JD steps forward, stepping past Fallout and into the locker room of the Clan. JD looks on, seeing only Silent. He looks around for the third member, but can’t see him.

Jamie: “So is Thoth back yet?”

Neither member replies, so JD takes it as a no. Not able to spot a place to seat, JD continues to stand. His eyes bouncing off of Silent and Fallout. The two men keep their arms crossed, well aware that an ambush could happen.

Jamie: “I have some business to discuss with you men. Now it’s well aware you are pretty high on Stubby’s shitlist for the whole trying to blackmail him thing. However, with some modifications… I think we can use each other to our advantages.”

JD pauses, looking toward Fallout and Silent, studying their emotionless expressions. Unable to tell if they are interested or insulted. Jamie fiddles with an object on a nearby table, tipping it to the side. He looks toward the Silent One.

Jamie: “I have something I need to say to you.”

Silent gives him a nod, granting him a chance to speak. JD would have done so anyway.

Jamie: “It’s not often that I find an opponent tougher then I am. I admit this, on Smarkdown I underestimated you. You defeated me in my environment, and believe me… it doesn’t happen often. I give you this, Silent, my respect, and a chance at my hardcore title after the Pay Per View.”

JD extends his hand, and Silent shakes it. JD smiles, then pulls Silent into him.

Jamie: “However, when you come into my yard again. Believe me, I’ll be ready. I may respect you, but in time, I’m going to hurt you.”

JD releases Silent and smiles. The Slaughterer coldly looks into Jay Dawg.

Silent: “The chance will be an honor. But don’t be too sure of yourself. Now, what is it you wanted?”

Jamie: “Annie Eclectic. What do you guys know about the one formerly known as Lady Red?”

Fallout ever present grimace turns slowly into a sneer at the mention of the name. Silent notices this in Fallout, and cuts it off instantly.

Silent: “We know enough. She was a member of the Clan, and her parents were involved with Nekura. Why do you ask Jay Dawg?”

Jamie: “Well… she seems to have an interest in my hardcore title. If I recall correctly, she also has a personal tidbit with the Clan as well. How would you like to take her off my hands?”

Fallout: “For what? You want us to take care of her so you can get a piece of Thugg?”

JD turns to Fallout, who finally spoke. He smiles.

Jamie: “Exactly. I may want a piece of him, but he is still tough enough, that any female ‘Assassins’ will be too difficult to overcome.”

Fallout: “Wouldn’t want to get punked out by a cripple?”

JD looks back at Fallout, who shows signs of the sarcasm.

Jamie: “That won’t happen. My buddies can insure that. However, an investment I have spotted will make sure against any of that anyway.”

Fallout: “If you’re not tough enough to fight your own fights, why don’t Silent and I take that belt off you now?”

JD steps into the face of Fallout.

Jamie: “Said the man who held the ICTV title for a total of 20 days despite three reigns.”

Fallout: “Fuck you Dawg, it’s time for you to leave.”

Jamie: “Better be careful, Fallout. Or you’ll end up a memory just like Prime Evil.”

Fallout: “That a threat Dawg? Do Silent or myself have to take care of you again?”

Jamie: “Silent and I will meet again. Believe me, the result will not be the same. It is time for me to go, I thank you for your time, gentlemen. Consider my offer, Silent. Good luck on your match, you are up next.”

Jamie exits through the door. He walks down the hall, looking into the corner.

“It is done.” He comments, looking into the shadows.

“Good. You can concentrate on Thugg now. But keep your eyes open or Annie will find a way to stick a knife deep into your back.” The silence fell again as he stepped out from the shadows, fading back into existence with a grim expression on his features. “You’ll have to defeat her again. You’ll also have to defeat the Clan. The only thing they respect is power in its rawest form.”

A nod was all Jamie gave as he stepped away from the area, his ally by his side once more. “Yeah I know, but then, that’s why I signed you back up…”

August 17, 2002

Stevens: “Welcome back to the Target Arena in Minneapolis Minnesota! It is S-W-F Storm!”

Riley: “Bah! I still can’t believe X-Club-9 have gotten away with so much BS tonight!?”

Stevens: “They are showing that they deserve a chance just like anyone else!”

Riley: “Oh well. Jay Dawg is going to teach these two a lesson in a few minutes! In fact, after he destroys deKindes, there will be only one active 9’er for him to eliminate!”

Fireworks explode just as Riley finishes his bit, firing themselves all around the arena, rafters and entrance ramp. Thousands of tiny pyros explode over the ring rafters, leaving smoke to float over. The lights go out...

"THIS

IS

MAH

HOUSE!!"

Jay Dawg’s voice echoes through out the arena signaling the start for Rammstein's "Du Haste" plays over the speakers without the lyrics... The heavy beats thunder 360 degrees all over the arena... after a few moments, JD steps through the curtains, his head down and hardcore title draped over his shoulder. He walks forward to the top of the ramp, slowly raising his head. He looks into the empty ring then lowers his head again, smiling evilly as he walks forward.

Funyon: “The following contest is a non title handicap match! Introducing first! He hails from Vancouver, BC! He stands and Six feet Four inches and tips the scales at 250 pounds! The S-W-F hardcore champion and member of the Creative Control! JAMIE ‘JAY DAWG’ DRAZON!!!”

JD snaps his head upward, looking into the ring straight at Funyon. He pulls the title off his shoulder and tosses it into the ring, rolling in shortly after, and grabs the title. He tosses it to the ref and starts to stretch out his muscles. Lightly exercising inside the ring almost thrilled at the possible challenge.

Riley: “What seemed like a disappointing set back on Smarkdown, in his loss to Silent. Jay Dawg looks to be more motivated then ever!”

Stevens: “I am entitled to agree. Jay Dawg seems thrilled that there is a man who can defeat him in his environment! He also has to watch out for his one opponent in this match, the hardcore queen herself, Annie Eclectic!”

Riley: “Earlier in the show! JD has actually done two things. Called out the HVille Thugg once again. But the XF9s business manager Sarah claimed he wasn’t coming. The other thing, Jay Dawg has requested the services of Silent, the man who defeated him, to take out Annie Eclectic at the PPV, so he can face Thugg!”

Stevens: “I know Thugg as well as anybody. He has no interest in fighting JD. It sounds like JD is trying to pawn all potential challengers of his title off!”

Riley: “We’ll see!”

Jay Dawg rests in the corner as “Figure 8" by Trust Company rumbles over the speakers. Massive amounts of green and white pyrotechnic blasts from the stage, giving the crowd an illuminating visual, as a rotating green "X" on the Smarktron can now be seen. Moments later, the mistress known as Molly can be seen walking down the ramp, carrying a microphone.

Molly: “People, people, people! Get to your feet! It is time for our favorite group!”

The fans cheer at the woman, sporting the “PH33R Da Annie T!” tank top.

Molly: “Introducing the opponents! They hail from Chicago, Illinois and Muenchen Germany! They weigh the perfect weight for their build! People, please welcome Tod deKindes and the Angel… Annie Eclectic! THE X-FORCE-9!!!”

The fans erupt at the announcing of the duo from the charismatic stable. The two members, Annie Eclectic, and Tod deKindes walk through the curtains. Molly tosses Annie a mic, who catches with the one hand, and passes her Kendo sword to Tod.

Annie: “Jay Dawg! It’s good to see you! I know you’ve been avoiding my challenge at the hardcore title. Probably because you don’t want to lose to the Hardcore Queen! However tonight, you will see why I am the angel… and you are the bitch! Or in other words… MY BITCH!!!”

Tod, who has made his way to ringside, dives into the ring, leaving the Kendo sword by the steps. JD is right on top of him, driving his back with a double axe handle. He grabs Tod by the back of the hair, and drives a knee straight into his ribs. Aggression already out, JD pulls Tod to the center of the ring, and with a heave, launches him to the nearby turnbuckle. JD steps into Tod, and throws his elbow up, cracking the German in the jaw with it. JD throws another stiff elbow, connecting with the tender jaw of deKindes. Annie has finally made it inside the ring, and JD turns his attention to her.

Riley: “What is going on her!?”

Stevens: “A nice little revenge stipulation! Both members of the X-Force-9 are allowed in!”

Riley: “Oh the payback shall be a bitch!”

JD thrusts toward Annie with a clothesline, but Eclectic runs below it, crouching her head in the process. She pivots around, only to see JD spin a hair quicker. JD thrusts once more, but Annie drops to the mat, letting JD run over top of her. Tod bursts out of the corner, leaping into the air, he takes JD down with a dropkick to a massive pop. JD sits up as fast as he went down, and is instantly in the clutches of the XF9. The two members grab a hand, and throw the hardcore champ into the ropes. JD bounces back, returning to see the opponents heads ducked down. JD thinks fast, stopping short before he goes for a ride. He throws his right knee up, driving it into the forehead of Ms. Eclectic. Tod straightens out on his own will, but is promptly dropped with a stiff clothesline by JD.

Riley: “Who da man!?”

Stevens: “Funyon!”

Riley: “Huh?”

Stevens: “What?”

Riley: “Die.”

JD steps to Annie, and latches his hand over her throat. His expression stating he is ready to crush her larynx. Annie fires back, popping JD with a weak punch that doesn’t break the grip. Annie isn’t done, dropping the arm over top of Jay Dawg’s, grabbing it with her spare; she twists the arm, breaking the grip. Hanging on with a wristlock, Annie looks down to Tod, who is watching with pleasure. JD sees Tod step up and into him, he kicks the German in the ribs, dropping him. Annie looks down at Tod, taking a second off her thought to sympathize, allowing JD to drop to his knees, swing around, kicking out the legs of the woman who stole his girl.

Riley: “You know… Maybe XF9 should have got two more members to fight with them, make it a fairer match!”

Stevens: “You’re as arrogant as he is!”

With Annie down, JD steps over her, but drops down quickly with a leg drop, catching it over her throat. He lies down to his back, spinning around and sits up. Upon getting to his feet, JD is met by the recovered Tod deKindes! The male opponent pops JD with a right hand, knocking him back. Tod then turns to the air, leaping onto the shoulders of JD and snaps back! JD keeps his balance, and powers Tod back up! He steps forward, slamming Tod down, no, Tod hooks his arm into Jay Dawg’s, slides out, and arm drags the hardcore champ to the mat!

Riley: “Dammit! He knocks one down to fight another!”

JD rolls to his feet, looking straight at Tod. He rushes for the lightweight German, diving shoulder first. Tod leapfrogs into the air, clearing JD, then pivots, landing on his feet to face JD. Tod throws a punch, but JD catches the arm, and faster then you can say MrG loves King, Tod is placed into a hammerlock. JD tightens his grip, and Tod reaches back, grabbing JD by the neck in a ¾ nelson facelock. Tod leaps into the air and rolls forward, flipping JD with a snapmare counter. JD rolls to his feet, looking back at Tod, who has gotten closer by rushing forward. Tod cartwheels into the air, landing in front of JD, latching his legs around his adversary in a waistlock. JD uses his arms to waistlock deKindes, pulling him off the mat. Tod releases his waistlock, and latches his arm around JD with a side headlock…

Stevens: “Nice wrestling sequence!”

Annie sits up in the ring.

Riley: “JD better watch out for the penis nazi!”

Tod falls forward, and before impact, JD slips his head out, shoving the Canadian German to the mat, hard on his back. JD shakes his head to clear some cobwebs, only to see Annie E. dive right at him, connecting with a stiff forearm that knocks him into the ropes. JD rests his arms over the top rope, but Annie is not done, diving at JD once more, connecting chest-to-chest with a crossbody. The blow takes JD over the top rope, but he carries Annie with him. The two rivals land on the outside mat, Annie on top of JD (dream come true!!). Annie rolls off of JD, getting to her feet, but is followed closely by JD.

In the ring, Tod has gotten to his feet, and debates on what to do.

Annie pops JD with a fist, knocking him down to a knee. She looks inside the ring, and upon getting deKindes attention, she points to JD. She takes a step away, leaving JD to wonder, just as TdK rushes off the ropes. JD turns to the ring, and only has enough time to gape in shock as deKindes takes it to the air! JD throws his arms up, trying for a useless block as deKindes hits him with a somersault senton splash! The crowd is on their feet for the 9’ers, starting up a “LET’S GO X-CLUB!!!” chant.

Riley: “Ain’t no party like an X-Club Party!”

Stevens: “You’ve said that before you dumbass! Awesome dive by the man known as Tod deKindes!”

On the other end of the ring, Molly can be seen holding the Kendo Sword. She looks at Annie, questioning if she wants its services. Annie shakes her head, as she climbs to the top of the ring apron. She looks down at the fallen JD, and drops off, landing on top of JD with an elbow drop! The decibels in the arena tip themselves up a notch, as massive chants for the XF9 resonate around the arena. Annie and Tod are now at their feet, raising their arms in victory at the fallen JD.

Stevens: “Listen to this ovation! The fans in Minnesota are loving these two tonight!”

Riley: “They are only loved because JD is so hated!”

Stevens: “Well I agree with part of that, you don’t hear ovations for this too often!”

JD starts to get to his feet, his ponytail has been broken, allowing his hair to flow over his eyes at the moment. Although making it to his feet on his own, both Annie and TdK grab JD. They apply a double facelock, unaware of what they should do, they decide to toss the spare arms over their shoulders. They start to lift, but JD gets his leg into Tod’s. They try to lift, but the positioning blocks all attempts. They finally release, and the two decide to throw JD to the side, allowing his back to smack into the railing. Molly starts to get closer, carrying the cane, smiling at Annie’s dominance.

Riley: “Keep that bitch away, it’s not no DQ!”

Stevens: “That is true! But that woman has every right to see what is going on! Jay Dawg and Molly have a long history from what I am told!”

As JD rests on the railing, Annie grabs the wrist of Tod and shifts her weight, before Tod releases, he shifts his weight, and Irish whips Annie toward JD! Tod looks on, and winces, as JD shifts to his right, allowing Annie to crash her body into the railing! Cries of pain come from the mouth of Ms. Eclectic, as she falls over top of the railing, landing in the crowd. Security pushes away the many horny males who have gotten near, as Molly is ready to start swinging her Kendo Sword.

Riley: “Damn those boys must need to get laid!”

Tod tries to apologize to Annie, but quickly turns his attention back to JD. The hardcore champ shows signs of life, as he catches his breath. Tod dashes at him, throwing out an arm for a clothesline, but JD ducks his head. He grasps his arms around the body of Tod, applying a tight bearhug. Changing his grip, JD locks his one arm over deKindes leg, and drapes his other over his chest. Thrusting powerfully, JD throws the body of deKindes over his head and the guardrail, deep into the crowd with a T-Bone suplex! TdK lands hard on an empty seat as the crowd starts to cheer for where the battle is going.

Riley: “Let’s go Jay Dawg! Let’s go!”

Riley’s attempts are feeble at best, as a “LET’S GO X-FORCE!!!” chant kicks up, obviously trying to motivate the two members. JD looks around to the crowd, balling his fists together, his muscles can be seen being flexed in the process. JD suddenly snaps his head to his right, to see his ex, Molly. For the first time tonight, JD opens his eyes, but not in rage. JD looks at Molly good and hard, staring into her, wondering.

Stevens: “Oh no! Jay Dawg has his sites set on Molly!”

Riley: “Ah ha! This is gold! Show that bitch why it’s bad to turn lesbian on a guy!”

JD grabs the top of his head, gently tugging on his hair as he looks at the blonde. He takes a step forward, his body relaxing, his visual attention has completely overtaken any audible attention he was giving to the crowd. He takes another step, now looking into the eyes of his former significant other.

Stevens: “This has to be the first time they have looked at each other face to face since the breakup!”

The audience looks on, many wondering what is going through the minds. Confusing themselves on what JD plans to do, and if they could look into the mind of JD, they would see that not even he knows what to do at the moment. Time seems to slow as they look into each other’s eyes, neither moving although to others it feels like they are going a million miles an hour. Suddenly, the hair of Jay Dawg is grabbed, and yanked back. JD is towed back to the guardrail by one Annie Eclectic, and pulled into a facelock. Annie lifts up, and falls backward, taking JD over the rail, and falling onto many seats with a vertical suplex! Annie sits up off her chair, getting to her feet.

Stevens: “Annie is back in this battle! What a suplex on Jay Dawg!”

Annie grabs onto her ribs, and looks over to Molly. She looks at her girlfriend, checking on her to see if all is alright. Molly replies with a smile, nodding along and hands forward the Kendo Sword. Annie once more refuses, shaking her head as she turns back to JD. The hardcore champ lies near deKindes, broken chairs around them both. The difference, Jay Dawg’s eyes are still open, and he is smiling… because he is happy.

Riley: “That lesbo is going back to JD! I know it!”

Stevens: “For some reason I doubt she wants the attention of someone as arrogant as JD!”

Riley: “And on that note, why is this match still going on!?”

Stevens: “The handicap match doesn’t have count outs, at least not in this one!”

Annie tows JD to his feet and rolls him over the guardrail. Tod deKindes starts to sit up from his area, although he doesn’t follow Eclectic yet. Annie rolls JD into the ring then climbs to the ring apron, and up to the turnbuckle. She crouches at the top, waiting patiently as JD gets to his feet on his own will. JD turns to the corner, just as Annie leaps off, extending her arm, letting it drive itself into Jay Dawg’s chest and takes him to the mat! Annie rolls over, making the cover on JD.

One…

Two…

Th… no! JD lifts his shoulder up.

Stevens: “The first pin attempt of the evening!”

Riley: “Jay Dawg the mighty kicks out!”

JD sits up, beads of sweat dripping off his hair, splattering over the mat as Annie hauls him to his feet. On the outside, Tod has reached the ring apron, standing in wait. Annie looks to Tod, giving him a nod, she tows JD that way, no, JD reverses with an Irish whip toward Tod deKindes! JD smiles at his work, not seeing Tod spring to the top rope, leaping over the head of Annie Eclectic, and heads for JD like a missile, SMACK!! A springboard dropkick to the face flattens JD! Annie bounces off the ropes, floating toward JD, she leaps in the air, flipping forward, smashing her back into his ribs with a senton splash, and remains there for the cover.

ONE…

TWO…

THR…No! JD gets a shoulder up once more!

Riley: “They should know that without a weapon, it’s nearly impossible to keep JD down!”

JD starts the journey to his feet, sitting up, then rolling to his knee. Annie steps into him, but JD latches his arm up, clasping it over her throat. She struggles, gagging for breath at Jay Dawg’s iron grip. TdK sees his friend in danger, and rushes for JD. The hardcore champ turns his attention to TdK, keeping the choke, he leaps into the air, raising his left knee, then thrusting forward with his right for a front kick! Tod goes down hard as JD releases the choke, pulling Annie into him, and lifting her high in the air, he drops her hard over his knee with an elevated backbreaker. He rolls Annie off his knee, and makes the cover.

ONE…

Riley: “That’s gotta be all! Her ribs have to feel like hell tonight!”

TWO…

THR…Annie gets a shoulder up! JD stands up, only to see deKindes showing life before Eclectic. JD takes a swing at the German, but TdK blocks, firing back with a right of his own. JD blocks, kicks deKindes in the ribs, pulls him into a facelock, leaps into the air, smashing TdK facefirst into the mat! JD rolls deKindes over and makes the academic cover.

ONE…

Annie starts to stir…

TWO…

Annie makes the dive…

THREENOANNIEBREAKSITUP!!!

Stevens: “Closest call tonight! That JD DDT is as deadly as any finisher!”

Riley: “Personal Touch owns that!”

Stevens: “Why the fuck did you name a move the Personal Touch!?”

Riley: “Die you cursing motherfucker.”

Annie strikes JD in the back of the head, but both competitors rise to their feet. Annie strikes JD with a European uppercut, straightening JD up. His eyelids may be closed but JD stares a hole straight into Ms. Eclectic. JD thrusts forward, raising his knee right into her ribcage. Tod rises from the JD DDT. JD pulls Annie into a waistlock, just as Tod rises to his feet. The German clubs JD in the back of the neck, forcing him to break his waistlock. TdK grabs JD by the wrist and tosses him to the ropes. JD bounces back to see the two XF9’ers standing back to back in wait for him. Just as he reaches them, they duck down, getting one leg each and stand up, both cradling his neck as they fall to the mat with a Double DVD!!

Stevens: “What teamwork! That move was crazy!”

Riley: “Bah!”

JD lands in the center of the ring, not in the mood to move too much. Unaware that his opponents have climbed the opposite turnbuckles. Annie looks to Tod, and he allows her to go first, she obliges, leaping off the turnbuckle and flies for JD. She spreads her body out as she plans to drive it through JD. The meters turn to feet, the feet turn to inches, and the one thing all high fliers fear come into play… JD raises his knees. As her diaphragm has the air driven from it by JD, she stands up, strutting around while holding her ribs. Tod feels for his partner, but dives off the ropes himself, floating toward JD like a swan, turning his body over, and before JD can react twice, his body is crushed by the swanton bomb!

Stevens: “BOOYAH!! You can’t dodge them both JD!”

Riley: “Bunch of cockroaches!”

The fans rise, cheering loudly as Tod nails the swanton, shouting for him to make the cover. Tod grants their wish and makes the cover.

ONE…

TWO….

THREE!!! NOO!!! JD gets the shoulder up millimeters off the mat!

Riley: “PHEW!! That was close!”

JD rolls away, clutching at his chest. He hangs over the ring apron, smiling, as he knows something Annie doesn’t know. Reaching under the apron, he grabs a tiny package, slipping it into his mouth. Molly, who is on the outside, is the only one around that knows about it. “Annie! Watch out!” she pleads, taking the sword off her shoulder, and tosses it into the ring.

Riley: “What is going on!?”

Stevens: “Molly saw JD put something into his mouth! She must know it can’t be good!”

Annie acknowledges Molly’s warning and kicks the sword aside. She gives the warning to Tod.

Stevens: “Annie doesn’t want to get DQed!”

“Annie! He talked to Silent!”

Molly gets that last bit out, and Annie drops her jaw in horror. She grabs onto the kendo sword in anger, demanding that Jay Dawg get back up. The ref gets in front of Annie, telling her not to do it. Tod pulls the referee out of the way and steps in front of Annie. Telling her to think about it. Annie’s eyes have lit up in rage, but it suddenly goes to fear, as she sees JD arise. “Move Tod!” is all she needs to muster out as the German dives out of the way. JD thrusts his head toward Annie, but the ultra quick Eclectic swings the sword, smashing it in between the eyes of JD!!

Riley: “Cheater! DQ her!”

JD falls down to one knee, shocked at the pain that the Singapore cane can cause. Annie lifts her weapon of choice up once more, and slams it down hard over the cranium of JD! “Get up damn you! Get up!” The ref has seen enough, calling for the bell, but no one cares. Jay Dawg smiles at Annie, as all of a sudden, he opens his eyes, letting the crowd gape in fear. He stands up, fully straightening out and letting his muscles be known. Annie swings once more. SMACK!! The shot connects with Jay Dawg’s forehead, dropping him to one knee, but he stands right back up, grinning ear to ear!

Riley: “Oh shit!”

Stevens: “This can’t be good!”

Annie strikes with the sword once more, but JD steps to the side! The cane smashes into the mat, and JD repeats his earlier attempt, thrusting his head forward, and spitting out a crimson black…

Stevens: “The black mist! This is Silent’s doing, I know it!”

The misty substance floods over the face of Annie Eclectic. She drops to the mat, clutching her eyes and rolling around. JD turns to the SmarkTron and starts to tell someone to come out. The audience immediately boos at the mammoth of a man coming out.

Riley: “Whoo! Lerrin Breggan is here to even the odds!”

Tod grabs JD from behind, striking him with a pair of fists. JD stumbles back, trying to fight back, but into the ring slides Lerrin Breggan! TdK notices him and rushes forward, but the monster is prepared, catching deKindes with one arm, lifting him into the air, pulling his spare arm behind the legs, and pushes down with catching arm, smashing TdK with a spinebuster! “Pull him up! Let’s put him down for good!” shouts JD, the liquid of the mist dripping down his chin.

Riley: “Ha ha! It’s time to put XF9 for good!”

Suddenly, the booing crowd turns to cheers, as another man runs down the ramp. Into the ring dives Long Dogger Pete! JD swings at the Doggah, but it is promptly blocked. In rapid succession, Pete smashes JD with multiple right hands, each blow knocking JD back a step. After ten steps, he is hanging over the ropes, and LDP propels forward, taking JD over with a clothesline!

Stevens: “The cavalry is here!”

Riley: “Damn them and their unfair fights!”

Stevens: “Why don’t you go find an ass that hasn’t been kissed yet!”

JD falls to the outside, but lands on his feet, glaring inside the ring. LDP turns around to see the monster rush for him. Lerrin in the semi, and LDP is his deer. Except, LDP ain’t no ordinary deer. The S-W-F’s oldest competitor ducks low, lifting up high, flipping Lerrin Breggan over his shoulder and to the outside mat. Breggan lands on his feet, but falls to his back, he gets to his feet once more and runs for the ring. JD holds his arm out, shaking his head. Lerrin stops at the command but isn’t too happy about this. “Give it a minute Breggan. Stubby will handle this. I have an idea.” JD says loud enough for the cameras to pick up.

Stevens: “Those guys got a piece of what is coming to them tonight.”

JD and Breggan back up off the mat, looking into the ring at the jawing LDP, as deKindes checks on Annie.

Funyon: “The winner of this match, by disqualification! JAY DAWG!!”

The fans are disgusted at the announcement of JD as the winner. He grins widely as he points to LDP.

Stevens: “Whatever is going on people, stay tuned! We have an awesome Main Event featuring that man right there, Long Dogger Pete, go up against Chris Wilson for the ICTV championship! If Pete is this fired up now, I think we will see a new ICTV champion!”

Riley: “Or he could lose. Allowing himself to be humiliated by thousands.”

Stevens: “You’re a dick.”

Cut to commercial.

August 17, 2002

The camera fades back in on the sold out Target Center in Minneapolis as security personnel escort a group of disgruntled Wal-Mart workers out of the seats. The shot quickly shifts to the commentator’s table and the dynamic duo there.

Stevens: “Welcome back to Storm. We’ve seen a fantastic and…

Riley: “complete bullsh*t show to this point.”

Stevens: “Hopefully your attitude will change with the main event as one of your favorite grapplers, newly crowned ICTV titlist Chris Wilson, takes on one of your least favorites in Longdogger Pete. However, before we get to that encounter we have one more special stipulation match to deal with as the newly returned Ash Ketchum takes on the man who MIGHT have ran him over with a car, Frost.”

Riley: “This is exactly what I’m talking about. Frost wins the tag team championship with TNT on Smarkdown in a six star classic…”

Stevens: “The scale only goes to five.”

Riley: “The match was so good, it reinvented the scale. But never mind that, Frost finally puts the Midnight Carnival in their place and how is he rewarded? By being handcuffed so that Pokemon freak can get some sort of payback for an ALLEGED act that Frost committed? That’s the bullsh*t I’m talking about. No respect around here for guys like Frost.”

Stevens: “It’s not like Frost has respect for anyone else in the SWF, especially Ash Ketchum. Frost felled to wrest the SJL World Title from him on two separate occasions, despite extenuating circumstance, and most likely holds a grudge against someone he views as a non-serious threat. We can only sit back and watch to see if his opinion of the Poke Freak changes tonight.”

Riley: “And don’t think I’m also not pissed about having to work on the anniversary of Elvis’ death. The Memphis Eel and I were supposed to drive down to Graceland for the midnight vigil, but I have to be stuck in friggin’ Minnesota and if the people at home don’t see that as a bad thing than they have obviously never been to friggin’ Minnesota.”

The camera pans around to Funyon standing in the ring putting the microphone to his lips.

Funyon: “The next match will be one fall and held under standard SWF rules…with a twist.”

On that cryptic note, “Cities on Flame with Rock ‘n Roll” blares up on the sound system. Frost steps out from behind the backstage curtain and surveys the jeering crowd from the top of the entranceway. TNT sashays out behind him, leaning on his aluminum ball bat.

Funyon: “Introducing first, from Reykjavik, Iceland at a weight of 296 pounds. He represents the Magnificent 7 and is escorted to the ring by Taylor Nicholas Thompson. He is one half of the NEW SWF Tag Team Champions; FRRRRRRRRRRRROOOOOOOSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSST!”

Frost holds up his right arm and heads down the ring ramp with TNT in tow.

Funyon: “As a special added stipulation, Frost will have his wrists bound behind his back with (holds the pair of cuffs up for the crowd to see) Mistress Sarah brand handcuffs, retailing for $29.95 where ever S&M supplies are sold.”

Riley: “I like evil, S&M, leather clad, whip toting, dominatrixes just as much as the next man, but…”

Stevens: “Depends on the gender for you.”

Riley “And what the HELL is that supposed to mean?”

Frost hops up to the ring apron and steps over the top rope as TNT slides under the bottom strand. Referee Sexton Hardcastle takes the cuffs from Funyon and steps over to Frost to put them on. He shoots a worried glance over at Thompson.

Hardcastle: “You can be at ringside, but I can’t in good conscious let you keep that baseball bat with you.”

Thompson has a shocked look on his face as he tries to feign ignorance.

TNT: “What ball bat? I’m not carrying a ball bat. I’m Taylor Thompson, not Jake Taylor.”

Sexton stares at the bat hanging loosely from TNT’s right hand. Thompson follows his look down and is flabbergasted at what he sees.

TNT: “Oh…this…this is my walking cane. I had a grueling match earlier tonight, you know. That old trick knee of mine is acting up again. What can I say?”

Hardcastle and TNT exchange eye contact as the referee shakes his head slowly from side to side. TNT nods his head in the same way.

TNT: “Eh, you can’t blame a guy for trying.”

Hardcastle takes the bat from TNT and he hands the weapon over the ropes to a ring attendant.

The lilting sounds of tickling piano ivories float across the arena as showering sparks stream over the Smarktron to a decent pop from the fans.

Funyon: “And his opponent…”

The crowd cheers grow louder as the poke ball on the Smarktron spins faster and faster. It jerks to a stop and the winking visage of a most beloved face zooms into view. A huge burst of majestic fireworks spark in front of the stage and as their light and smoke fade, one man can be seen standing with his back to the auditorium.

Funyon: “Hailing from Pallet Town, (aside) which I like to call Tampa, Florida, weighing in at 258 pounds and representing X Force 9. He is the King of the Gimmick Match, (aside) which should help him here tonight, ASH…KETCH… UUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM!”

Ash spins around as the Target Center explodes with applause. He points a finger at Frost in the ring and then makes his way down the ramp, slapping high fives with a few fans along the sides of the aisle way.

Stevens: “Ash’s pregnant girlfriend and valet, Misty is conspicuously absent as is Ketchum’s usually carefree attitude and fun loving spirit. Although all the advantages might be in his favor, he knows that Frost, nor TNT at ringside, are men to take lightly.”

Riley: “I don’t see any advantages in the Poke dork’s favor. If he beats a guy with his hands cuffed behind his back it makes him a big loser who couldn’t beat Frost fair and square and if Frost beats him, and he will find a way, then Ash looks like an even bigger loser for not being able to take out a guy who can’t even use his hands to defend himself.”

Ash pulls himself up to the ring by the second rope and steps through the cords. He jumps up to the nearby second turnbuckle to pop the crowd louder and tosses his shirt somewhere into the second row. Frost dutifully puts his hands behind his back, oozing odd confidence for such a situation, and Hardcastle slaps on the cuffs with a click. Funyon hands Hardcastle the key to the cuffs as he exits and the ref drops it into his pants pocket. Frost flexes his muscles and shakes his wrists to get a feel for the restraints as Hardcastle calls for the bell.

DING DING DING

Stevens: “And we’re underway. Both men circling each other cautiously, unsure of how to start things off.”

Ash stops his rotation around the ring and lunges forward with his arms out for a lockup. Frost stares at Ash with venom as the grappler smiles and winks at Frost over his faux pau. A few fans twitter with chuckles.

Stevens: “Ash appears to be teasing Frost. His arms are completely locked behind his back and he has absolutely no use of them.”

Riley: “Yeah, let’s see who’s laughing when Frost pulls out the hurricanranas and the flying head scissors.”

Stevens: “Most likely me.”

Frost fumes for a moment in the corner as Ash lunges back out in mocking his earlier pose. He pulls back and shakes his head with a look of ‘yeah, geez, what I was thinking.’ That sets Frost off and he charges headlong at Ketchum. Ash jutes to his right and brings his leg behind Frost’s ankle in a swinging motion to knock the big man down.

Stevens: “Back heel trip by Ash and that could be a winning move in this contest.”

Riley: “And then maybe he’ll job Frost to a backslide.”

Frost swiftly rolls to his right and slides to the floor before Ash can taken advantage on him. He drops off of the apron to his feet and TNT walks over to confer with his partner.

Riley: “Ash is not going to get the victory on a cheap move. Frost and TNT have been scouting this match out all week. I wouldn’t be surprised if they ran through it a few times in the gym to get the sense of things. Frost is a beast with brains.”

Stevens: “Making TNT the beauty.”

Thompson leaps up on to the apron and points a finger at Ash to stay back as Frost rolls back in under the bottom rope and clumsily climbs to his feet.

Riley: “TNT’s running blocker. It would be just like that dirty Ash to kick a man while he’s down. He’s just keeping that jerk at a safe distance, but it’s not like anyone wants to see a FAIR contest here.”

The two men circle each other again and Frost charges. Ash ducks to the side, but Frost twists to his right to avoid a second trip and sends a headbutt to the side of Ketchum’s skull. Ash stumbles to his right off balance to slump against the ropes and Frost sweeps his legs out for under him.

Stevens: “Who’s kicking a guy when he’s down now, Bobby? Frost maliciously lays the boots to Ash.”

Riley: “All he can do is kick! You want him to just chest bump him to death!”

Ash rolls to the floor and holds a hand to his stomped stomach. TNT slithers up to the corner of the ring and eyes Ketchum. Ash spots him out of the corner of his eye and backs up while pointing a finger at him.

Riley: “Whaaaaa! What a crybaby, Thompson looks at him funny and he cries foul to the ref. He has all the advantages and still can’t fight like a man.”

Stevens: “Didn’t you say earlier that Ash had no advantages here?”

Riley: “What I say and what I mean are two different bags baby.”

Ash climbs up to the apron as Hardcastle tries to push Frost back. Frost uses his strength to muscle Sexton out of the way and dashes at Ketchum with a headbutt to knock him to the floor. Ash grips the ropes and leans back to avoid the blow then uses the strands to slingshot himself over Frost.

Stevens: “Sunset flip for the pin.”

ONE

TWO

Stevens: “Frost shakes loose. ASH KNOCKS HIM BACK DOWN! ANOTHER COVER!

ON-

Frost pushes himself up on his knuckles to bridge his shoulders off the mat and Ash doesn’t have enough weight to force him back down.

Riley: “See that! Frost’s hands behind his back provides too much of bulge to lay flat. I bet Ash and Sarah didn’t think of that one, but Frost did. He’s got every trick figured out.”

Ketchum reluctantly leans up to his knees and pulls Frost up by the sides of his head. Ash grabs the Icelander’s bent arm and uses it as handle to whip him into the ropes. Frost stumbles back toward Ash off balance. Ash greets Frost with a knee to the gut to double him over and then vaults into the air to come crashing down with a scissors kick. Frost hits the mat as Ash runs to the near ropes.

Stevens: “Frost makes to roll outside again…AND ASH HELPS HIM OUT WITH A BASEBALL SLIDE!”

Riley: “TNT can’t have a baseball bat, but Ash can have a baseball slide!”

Frost goes flying out of the ring and crashes on the ground. Ash pops to his feet and grabs the top ring rope. He hunkers down for leverage and then throws himself over the top for the floor. He tucks in and folds out to hit Frost in the chest.

Stevens: “A SLINGSHOT SNORLAX SPLASH TO THE OUTSIDE!”

Riley: “With his arms pinned under him, Ketchum could break Frost’s arms with a move like that. This damn match is too dangerous!”

Both men lie stunned on the ground. Ash is the first one up and leans back against the guardrail for a breather while Frost continues to grovel in pain.

Stevens: “LOOK OUT ASH! HERE COMES TNT!”

Thompson darts into frame with his elbow bent up for a running forearm. Ketchum sees him in plenty of time and uses his superior speed to duck under Taylor and catch him in the stomach for a backdrop to a huge pop.

Riley: “He was just coming over to check on his buddy and Ash viciously attacks him!”

Ash turns to the fans with a smile and a thumbs up, finally getting into a comfortable groove with the match. He turns back around to find both men getting up and places a hand on the back of each of their heads. He runs the two men together for a double noggin knocker. They bonk skulls and slam back down to the floor to an even louder pop.

Riley: “You know Hardcastle wouldn’t let TNT attack Ash on the outside, but he lets Ash attack him. Oh, there I go bitching about what’s FAIR again.”

Ash rolls back into the ring as Hardcastle reaches nine on his count out. He winks at the ref and rolls back to the floor. Hardcastle yells at Ketchum to bring it inside and he hoists Frost up to his feet. Ash gives a quick glance over his shoulder to check TNT, then tosses Frost into the ring and follows behind him.

Stevens: “Ash scurries to the opposite ropes…bounces off…flips into the air…ROLLING FIVE STAR FROG SPLASH!”

One can hear Frost’s arms crunch underneath him as Ash hooks the near leg for the pin.

ONE

TWO

TH-

Stevens: “Foot on the ropes! Frost barely saved himself there.”

Riley: “How come that move isn’t the ‘five star thunder’ or the ‘Pickachu pocket rocket’ or some other stupid name like Ash has for everything else?”

Ash clasps Frost under the shoulder and drags him out a few inches from the ropes. He falls on top for another cover, but Frost bridges up on his knuckles again to keep his shoulders up. Ketchum slaps the mat in mild frustration then jerks Frost to his feet.

Riley: “Too smart for him. I bet it’s blowing Ash’s mind in trying to figure out how to pin him.”

Ash hooks Frost around the waist for a belly-to-belly suplex, but Frost grapevines his leg around Ketchum’s to stall the move. Ash shakes off the grapevine by sliding around and locking his hands under the grappler’s elbows. With a grunt of exertion, he flings Frost back and bridges for the pin.

ONE!

TWO!

THRE-

Stevens: “NO! Frost shifts his weight to break. Smart use of the double underhook chicken wing suplex by Ash to not only take advantage of the position of Frost’s arms, but also to prevent him using the knuckle spot to keep his shoulders up. Wouldn’t you say, Bobby?”

Riley mumbles incomprehensibly and fumes.

Ash keeps the arms hooked as Frost fights to his feet. Frost tries a standing switch, but Ketchum has him cinched tight and tosses Frost back in the suplex again.

ONE!

TWO!

THRE-

The crowd gasps as a recovered TNT slips halfway into the ring and yanks Ash’s feet out from underneath him. The fans boos rabidly as Thompson places an arm behind his back and bows to the crowd in appreciation of their warm response.

Stevens: “The referee was watching Frost’s shoulders and didn’t see the interference.”

Riley: “Interference? What interference? I didn’t see any interference? Mark, have you been dipping into Aunt Pearl’s jam again?”

Ash squeezes out from under Frost’s bulk and springs to his feet. He jumps up to the bottom ring rope and grips the top one as he leans over to shout at TNT. Taylor pleads ignorance. Ash makes to flip over the ropes to the floor, but Hardcastle trots over to break things up.

Stevens: “C’mon, Ash is fighting two men out there.”

Riley: “That would really be unfair, unless you consider that one of them is FREAKING HANDCUFFED! If they bind TNT’s feet together so Ketchum is only dealing with one whole man would that make you happy!”

Ketchum is so caught up with TNT, that he misses Frost creeping up behind him. Frost delivers two short kicks to the back of Ash’s right knee and he bends down. Frost sweeps Ash off his feet again with a kick to the heel and Ketchum lands on his rear. Frost stands back to back with Ash and slips the metal chain of the handcuffs over the Poke Freak’s throat. Frost folds forward and carries Ash off the mat. He kicks and screams while clawing at the chain around his esophagus.

Stevens: “That’s a blatant choke! He can’t do that!”

Riley: “Au contraire mon fraire, the cuffs are a legal part of the match. It’s just like whipping a guy with the leather in a strap match.”

Stevens: “When you start talking about ‘whipping a guy with the leather’ I usually tune you out.”

Frost hauls Ketchum into the center of the ring as he madly scratches and tears at the shackles. Ketchum gags and coughs as his head droops limply to the side. Frost feels the deadweight and releases his hold. Ash collapses to the mat in a heap. Frost turns around and drops down to wrap his legs around Ketchum’s neck with the knees crossing at the Adam’s apple.

Stevens: “Frost works a head scissors on the canvas. It has the effects of a sleeper in draining the life out of someone.”

Riley: (singing in a sarcastic tone) “Lullaby and good night, hope you die in your sleep and spontaneously combust.”

Hardcastle pulls Ash’s right arm out from under Frost’s legs enough to lift it into the air. It falls limp to the canvas and Sexton picks it up again. Frost constricts his legs tighter. The Icelander’s whole body is flushed from the force he is ratcheting down. Hardcastle lets loose of Ketchum’s arm a second time and it plummets lifeless to the math. The fans moan and start clapping in support. Sexton motions to lift the arm again as chants of “ASH! ASH! ASH!” erupt from the audience. Frost shakes his body in applying more pressure as the arm is hoisted one last time.

Stevens: “If it falls here, the match is over.”

Riley: “I told you Frost would find a way to win! He’s one half of the SWF Tag Team Champions, one of the greatest SJL European champions of all time, losing is not in his vocabulary.”

The ref releases the appendage and it falls………….

Stevens: “NO! IT DIDN’T DROP ALL THE WAY! ASH IS STILL IN THIS THING!”

Riley: “Remind me to get Ash a dictionary for Christmas so he can look up the word ‘losing’ and know it by heart.”

The fans go completely nuts with cheering as Ash’s arm hovers a scant few millimeters over the canvas. He rises it slowly up and his dimmed eyelids flutter back open. Frost roars with fury as he clamps down on his legs, but to no avail.

Stevens: “HE’S DOING IT! ASH IS RISING LIKE A PHOENIX FROM THE ASHES…”

Riley: “That’s a clever pun, dillweed.”

Stevens: “HE’S GOT HIS LEGS UP UNDERNEATH HIM. I DON’T THINK FROST CAN MAINTAIN THE MANUEVER! KETCHUM JUST FLIPPED HIMSELF OVER TO STAND ABOVE FROST! WHAT AGILITY!”

Ash stands bent over with his head still trapped between the wrestler’s legs. Frost snaps his legs forward to bring Ketchum back down. However, it has the desired effect Ash wanted as he rides through the throw to break the hold and skid across the mat.

Stevens: “HE’S FREE! HE’S FREE!”

Riley: “Well toot the horns and throw the confetti! LAUDDY FREAKIN’ DA!”

Ash spins up to face Frost, trying to struggle up without the aide of his arms to support him, and charges. Ketchum pulls short as he nears Frost, still kneeling on one leg, and back flips head over to heels to smash the toe of his boot into Frost’s jaw. The giant grappler topples back and lands in the ropes.

Stevens: “Front flip enzuiguiri, and Ash has to press his advantage while Frost is dazed!”

Ketchum points to the upper right ring corner and marches over to climb the turnbuckles. The crowd noise mounts as Ash ascends the ropes and turns to face his opponent.

Stevens: “I think he’s going for the Poke Ball, Go!”

Riley: “That son of a bitch can’t win! He still sleeps in pajamas with the feet in them! Somebody stop this! Where’s the justice!”

Ash bends down into the ropes to gain some spring and rises up to………

Stevens: “TNT JUMPS TO THE APRON AND TRIPS ASH! SEXTON HAD HIS EYES ON FROST AND MISSED IT!”

Riley: “TNT thy name be justice.”

Thompson drops to the floor before the ref can turn around. Ketchum holds his hands over his groin where he crotched himself and takes a face first tumble off the turnbuckles. Hardcastle pivots around toward Ash and has no idea what happened. TNT strolls down the outside walkway with his hands behind his back, whistling.

Stevens: “Frost is getting to his feet as Ash lies on the mat. This is a match where we should have had two referees!”

Riley: “Yeah, Lord knows Frost can do a lot of cheating WITH HIS HANDS CUFFED BEHIND HIS BACK!”

Stevens: “He doesn’t need to cheat with TNT at ringside. These two are putting in the perfect team effort and it’s not even a tag match.”

Frost stumbles over to Ketchum and stomps a mudhole as he lies slouched in the corner. Hardcastle puts a shoulder up into Frost’s chest, but not before the big man can walk the mudhole dry. Sexton pushes Frost back to the center of the ring as a groggy Ash does his best to pull himself up by the top ring rope.

Stevens: “Frost shakes the referee off. HE’S GOING TO CHARGE!”

Ash’s head clears just as the Icelandic freight train reaches him and he puts his hand on the top rope to his right to hurdle up and out to the apron. Frost takes the turnbuckle chest first and ricochets back to sighs of relief from the crowd. Their revelry is short lived as TNT runs past Ketchum on the floor and clips his knee to knock him down.

Stevens: “Hardcastle misses the interference AGAIN!”

Riley: “He’s supposed to watch the action inside the ring, not outside.”

TNT attempts to nonchalantly stroll away again, but Ash spins off the apron to the floor and runs up behind Thompson as the crowd buzzes. He twirls Taylor around by his shoulder and gives him a hard right to the jaw. TNT hits the ground and Ketchum rolls back into the ring.

Stevens: “WATCH OUT ASH! NO!”

The camera cuts back to the ring just in time to catch Frost leaping off of the nearby second turnbuckle with his right leg out for a diving big boot. An adrenaline pumped Ash, snatches the ankle out of midair and flings Frost to the canvas. He deftly scissors Frost’s left leg and applies a facelock to cinch as STF.

Stevens: “Ash can’t get the Total Nightmare with Frost’s arms restrained, so he has to revert to the old Dream Eater!”

Meanwhile on the floor, TNT lifts up the apron skirt and pulls two hard to see objects out from under the ring.

Riley: “It worked before let it work again: WHERE’S THE JUSTICE!”

Thompson slides into the ring and smashes TNT in the head.

Stevens: “THOMPSON HAS A PAIR OF INDUSTRIAL STRENGTH BOLT CUTTERS! THEY HAVE TO BE OVER FOUR FEET LONG AND VERY HEAVY!”

Riley: “YES! YES! JUSTICE HAS ARRIVED ONCE AGAIN! IT’S THE LOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONE THOMPSON!”

Hardcastle stands up to question TNT, but he shoves him down and gives Ash another whack on top of the skull with the bolt cutters. Sexton waves his hand for the bell.

DING DING DING

Stevens: “It’s a disqualification win for Ash, but I have to think that the Mag 7 had this planned all along. The bit with the baseball bat was just a ruse.”

Riley: “Brilliant snooping Columbo.”

TNT snaps Frost’s restraints. He stands up and rubs his sore wrists. Thompson tosses Frost the other object. Frost holds them up for everyone to get a good look.

Stevens: “IT’S ANOTHER PAIR OF HANDCUFFS! FROST IS CUFFING ASH TO THE RING ROPES! WE NEED SECURITY DOWN HERE NOW!”

Riley: “Forgive me while I mark out for a second, WHIP HIM! WHIP HIM LIKE A DOG!”

The ring bell clangs as TNT smacks Ash in the face with the bolt cutters. Blood flows like a river from a huge gash in the top of Ketchum’s skull and streams down the sides of his face in two distinct lines. Ash hands the weapon over to Frost and he proceeds to jam it into Ash’s wound as the fans moan with sickness at the sight. Suddenly, a slight cheer rifles through the audience into a full-blown roar.

Stevens: “IT’S TOD DEKINDES AND ANNIE ECLECTRIC! THEY’VE COME TO SAVE THEIR FELLOW XF9’ER!”

The two faces fly down the aisle with a steel chair apiece. They slide into the ring with their weapons of choice at the ready. Frost throws a shot at Tod with the cutters, but he parries it with the chair and nails Frost in the shoulder. Annie charges at Taylor, but he goes sailing over the ropes to the safety of the floor. Frost lunges out through the ropes as Tod goes for another blow. The audience is mixed with cheers for the save and boos for the horrible heels. Frost and TNT back up the ring aisle, yelling epitaphs at XF9. deKindes shouts back as Annie checks on the passed out Ash. She tears at the cuffs in vain until Tod comes up with the dropped bolt cutters and snips Ash free. He falls to the mat, a crimson stained human mess.

Stevens: “Paramedics are making their way to ringside now and we’ll try to restore order before our next match.”

Riley: “Mess with the Frost…and you’ll get burned.”

August 17, 2002

Main Event

Die fuckers!

Double no show.

August 17, 2002

After Storm comes to a close, a man and a woman emerge from the Target Center into the dimly lit workers' parking lot. X Force 9 leader Longdogger Pete and business manager Sarah Leavenworth are conversing as they exit the arena.

"You don't look so good, Pete," Sarah says.

"I'm aching all over," Pete admits, "from that damn Wilson/Breggan fiasco. It really ticked me off that Stubby added Breggan to the main event... but I'll take whatever punishment is necessary if it'll illustrate just how tough I am, and how tough X Force 9 is."

"The next pay per view is less than two weeks away," Sarah notes. "Do you think our team is going to be whipped into shape in time?"

"Absolutely," Pete replies. "Despite what some critics may think, we've got the most talented up-and-comers that sports entertainment has to offer. And I plan on having a great night at Apocalypse."

"Sounds good to me," says Sarah. The pair stop walking, and Sarah turns down a specific row of vehicles. "I'm parked down this way. I guess that'll call it a night, Pete."

"Would you like me to walk you to your car?" Pete asks, in a surprising show of respect.

Sarah smiles. "Worried about me? I'm a former Hardcore champion, Pete. I can take care of myself. But... thanks for the offer."

Pete nods to her and walks off in the opposite direction.

Sarah spots her vehicle, a dark purple 1991 Nissan 240SX (affectionately nicknamed the SeX Mobile). She heads off in that direction, pressing a button on her key chain to deactivate the car alarm as she approaches the car.

WHACK! Sarah yelps in alarm and sudden pain as a large metal object strikes across her back. Her keys are knocked out of her hand. They fall to the pavement, and seconds later, Sarah follows suit, dropping to the ground. Then there is a second SMACK! across Sarah's back as a steel chair is slammed into her again.

"There," growls an infuriated chair-wielding Jay Dawg. "THAT oughta draw out the Thugg."

The Hardcore champion drops the chair against the pavement, leaving it to rest beside Sarah as he walks away and out of sight. Sarah, lying in pain in the parking lot, calls out for her teammate. "Pete?" After a pause, she tries again. "PETE!"

Moments later, a change in camera angles shows us why Pete hasn't answered. Longdogger Pete is also lying on the ground! A second perpetrator lays into Pete, lashing into Pete's legs with some vicious shots from a crowbar. Over and over the crowbar strikes across Pete's legs, doing their damage while Pete lies helpless. Finally the perpetrator decides he has had enough, and takes a step back from Pete.

"You wanted your answer, LDP," says Perfect Bo, "and now ya got it. You and I, one on one at Apocalypse? It's on! But how will you be able to fight me," Bo wonders aloud, "if you aren't even able to walk down to the ring?"

Bo chuckles to himself as he walks away, and the camera fades away from this grisly scene.

August 17, 2002

Summary

Stubby - Well, I had to read the show anyways, so what the heck.

SINGLES MATCH

Xero vs. Z

- Z with z win.

SINGLES MATCH

Fallout vs. “TNT” Taylor Nicholas Thompson

- Uhhh...what the hell? At least it wasn't a double no-show.

SINGLES MATCH

El Luchadore Magnifico vs. Danny Williams

- Danny Williams with a big win over ELM (or ELMS as Williams likes to call him).

TAG MATCH

Sacred & Perfect Bo vs. Edwin MacPhisto & Thoth

- Edwin's team wins...with help from Silent? Bwuh?

SINGLES MATCH

The Boston Strangler vs. Silent

- The mighty Silent beats Strangler up in a few seconds in a promo. Oh well, that's what happens when you don't write I geuss.

HANDICAP MATCH

Jay Dawg vs. Annie Eclectic & Tod deKindes

- Clusterfuckerific. Annie goes wild leading to a DQ win for Dawg.

HANDCUFF MATCH

Frost vs. Ash Ketchum

- DQ win for Ash. Damn...who booked this show, Vince Russo?

ICTV TITLE MATCH

- Both competitors in this match suck considerable amounts of male genetalia and didn't write.

SWF Storm (August 16, 2002)

Recommended Posts

Guest HVilleThugg

Share this post

Link to post

Share on other sites

Guest HVilleThugg

Share this post

Link to post

Share on other sites

Guest HVilleThugg

Share this post

Link to post

Share on other sites

Guest HVilleThugg

Share this post

Link to post

Share on other sites

Guest HVilleThugg

Share this post

Link to post

Share on other sites

Guest HVilleThugg

Share this post

Link to post

Share on other sites

Guest HVilleThugg

Share this post

Link to post

Share on other sites

Guest HVilleThugg

Share this post

Link to post

Share on other sites

Guest HVilleThugg

Share this post

Link to post

Share on other sites

Guest HVilleThugg

Share this post

Link to post

Share on other sites

Guest HVilleThugg

Share this post

Link to post

Share on other sites

Guest HVilleThugg

Share this post

Link to post

Share on other sites

Guest HVilleThugg

Share this post

Link to post

Share on other sites

Guest HVilleThugg

Share this post

Link to post

Share on other sites

Guest HVilleThugg

Share this post

Link to post

Share on other sites

Guest HVilleThugg

Share this post

Link to post

Share on other sites

Browse

Activity