SWF Storm (August 30/2002)

August 31, 2002

BOOM! An explosion of pyro rocks the Norfolk Scope Arena!

“The Apocalypse has come…”

BOOM! The fans rise to their feet as another explosion of pyro detonates on the entrance stage!

“…the Apocalypse has gone…”

BOOOOOOM! And with a third and final explosion, the blazing riffs of the SWF Storm theme rip through the soundsystem! “And tonight,” bellows Mark Stevens, “we’ve got to deal with the aftermath!”

“Apocalypse was nuts, Mark! Flat-out nuts!” screams Bobby Riley over the riotous crowd. “We had a dumpster match! We had a no-DQ match! We had a last man standing match, we had a hardcore brawl, we had the return of frickin’ Divefire, and to top it all off, we had the no-holds-barred brutality of Edwin MacPhisto vs. Chris Wilson--”

“And some very disturbing events transpiring post-match,” murmurs Mark Stevens. “The wrestling community has been in disoriented disarray since Sunday evening, when Chris Raynor turned his back on Edwin MacPhisto and the Midnight Carnival, leaving our world champion laying, and--”

And, before Stevens can finish, the arena lights drop out…

“I said hallelujah!”

…and explode in a wild flare once more as the Lo-Fidelity All-Stars’ “Battleflag” bumps across the speakers!

“Here comes your man, Stevens!” cackles Bobby Riley! “Edwin MacPhisto, one bad-ass, neck-breaking son-of-a-bitch! How do you like him now, Mark? How do you like him now?”

“For those who didn’t see Apocalypse,” mumbles Grand Slam, as Edwin’s flashy entrance fills the arena, “Edwin retained his title, but after the match…” A lump catches in Mark’s throat as he continues. “After the match, we bore witness to what may be the most sadistic footage I have ever seen in a wrestling ring…but not one from this time. Six years ago, it seems, in a small independent federation called APW, Edwin MacPhisto and the Silent One, Nathan Kibagami…no, I really can’t talk about it anymore, ladies and gentlemen. I’m sorry.” As Mark apologizes and the crowd reaction swells, the Mac Daddy appears in the spotlights on the stage, head down, then tilting up, taking in the ovation…

“RAY-NOR! RAY-NOR!”

“MAC-PHIST-OOOOO! MAC-PHIST-OOOOO!”

“RAY-NOR! RAY-NOR!”

…and commencing a powerful stride down to ringside, an increasingly common look of determination across his face. World title around his waist, red coat swishing behind him, the Mac Daddy proceeds as usual…but this time, not all his fans are as eager. A few soda cups pelt Edwin, and he visibly shivers at the turn of the tables. “A decidedly mixed reaction for our champion tonight,” murmurs Stevens, “and I can understand why. You…you…he broke a man’s neck, and…ladies and gentlemen, I honestly had no idea--”

“Don’t try to cover up, Mark!” scolds Riley, as Edwin slides into the ring. “We all saw the proof, clear as day on that tape of Silent’s! He’s been a monster all along—he’s everything Chris Wilson suspected, and more!” The Mac Daddy rises to his feet and takes a microphone from Funyon, standing center stage, waiting for the mixed reception to die down. Dueling chants rise up from all over the arena, as some fans side with their old hero, while others opt for the rebellious ‘truthsayer,’ Chris Raynor.

Edwin stares out to the fans, to the sparking flashbulbs, and brings the microphone to his lips.

“I can explain everything.”

BOOOOOO!

RAHHHHHH!

“Half the crowd wants to hear what Edwin has to say,” giggles Riley, “and the other half’d rather he fuck off and die!”

“Quiet, Bobby,” snaps Stevens. “I’m definitely part of the former, so let’s just listen.”

“This may take a while, folks,” continues Edwin, “so sit back and let your Daddy Mac spin a tale.” The crowd response settles, and Edwin begins to orate like only he can.

“Six years ago, I was new to this game of ours. A fresh-faced youth. An excitable young man looking for hope, opportunity, and any sort of adventure he could find. I dillied around bingo halls and backyards for days, weeks, months, and in my travels I came upon Phoenix, Arizona, and a motley crew of characters. They fashioned themselves a federation, and to wide-eyed me, it was impressive and amazing—it was All-Pro Wrestling. It was APW.” The acronym leaves a bit of a sting on Edwin’s tongue, and he looks to the mat to regain his composure, listening as the chants start to return.

“I will cut to the chase, because I can sense impatience in the crowds here, and there’s nothing an entertainer hates more than to ostracize his fans…or have them ostracize him. What you saw Sunday night…what I saw, for the first time in 6 years…is a past. A memory. A time I would rather forget.”

“Forget?!?” snaps Riley. “You broke Silent’s neck! You don’t forget that!”

“I’ve been running from it ever since, but then my past tracked me down again, in the form of a 6’5”, 248-pound beast. What he did to me, and then…what I did to him…sent him on the path you know now. Time off to…recover. Then Battlarts. Then Spider Nekura. The rest is history, ladies and gentlemen, and the rest is Silent.” The mention of the Clansman’s name draws…a mixed reaction?

“Sympathy heat for the Clansman?” stammers Stevens. “What happened was awful, but this is Silent we’re talking about--”

“It was the best of times in Phoenix, and it was the worst of times. Simply put, we were working hard, but we were working towards our dreams. I went by ‘Jimmy Britain’ at the time. Clever, no? Phoenix and its workers had a stability never before seen in the other drifting indies, wherever I had traveled…I met a horde of people there, and one of them was named Nathan Kibagami.” Edwin takes a breath. “Another was named Jessica Matheson.”

“A woman?” Riley raises his eyebrows and leans forward. “This is getting interesting…”

“It’s pretty simple, really,” continues Edwin grimly. “Guy meets guy. Guys become friends. Guy A meets girl…Guy B meets girl…conflict. To make a long story short--”

“Too late!”

“Shut up, Bobby!”

“—Nathan and I had a disagreement. He did things he shouldn’t have done, and, in response, I did things I shouldn’t have done.” Edwin looks down at the mat, pausing, listening to the lingering murmurs in the arena, before raising his head back up and speaking four fateful words:

“I broke Nathan’s neck.”

Silence.

“I did. I’m not proud of this. I didn’t mean to. Things…happen. Emotions take over, ladies and gents—you’ve all been there.” Faces in the crowd turn to each other, than back to the garrulous Brit. “Why do you think I ran? To get away? Fear? No—because I’d made a mistake, and I couldn’t absolve it there. Do you think I’m proud of what I’ve done? If you think that, you’re ridiculous! It took me almost 4 years to get away from his shadow, from my shadow—and all the time I was changing. Changing, thank god, for the better. Changing into a man who would take on mythical proportions when he found himself again…changing into a man who debuted on a grand stage on March 16th, 2001, inside an IGNML ring.” Several fans with decent memories pop, and the announcers look on, simply taking it all in. “I came here to find myself again…and I did. People can change…and I changed. I’ve always been changing. A second chance helped me change—I went out there, and I beat Tsunami, and I beat Spider Nekura, and I beat the Silencer, and when I won the Western US Title, when I heard my first devilishly loud crowd pop, when I felt myself really, truly smiling again—I knew I was on to something.”

“Edwin’s going way back into the history books on this one,” says Mark, “…and I think it’s working.”

“People changed me!” shouts Edwin, moving about the ring with force now, truly speaking from the heart. “Spark changed me! Brian Applewhite, the King of bloody Hearts changed me! I saw in them the glimmers of someone I’d once been, longer than 6 years ago, before the accident in Phoenix…the one, true prince…the man for the fans…the crown prince of flash and panache, and your ringmaster…Edwin MacPhisto.”

The cheers start to rise up again…weakly…but there.

“See! See!” he shouts, becoming jubilant now. “You’re remembering! You’re remembering all I’ve done—you’re remembering my falls from grace and my rises back to glory! You’re remembering when I came out to avenge the Carnival against the Suicide King! You’re remembering when Mark Stevens and I teamed to show the Clan whatfor! You’re remembering when I stopped Sacred, when I stopped Perfect Bo, when I stopped Chris Wilson—when I gave you the show you wanted, and gave all my heart doing it!”

Getting stronger now…

“He’s got them eating out of his hand, Bobby…and I think he’s right, Bobby. We might have been overreacting…”

“Don’t give me that guff, Mark! Edwin’s a monster!”

“If you hadn’t seen that tape on Sunday night,” continues Edwin, in rare form now, “if Silent hadn’t dug that up from the archives—what would you think of me? Would I still be the Mac Daddy? Would I still be your crown prince? Of course I would! Because that, my friends, is the past. I can confront it now—I have to confront it now. I can’t run anymore. He’s here, and he’s breathing down my neck, and one way or another, he’s turned one of my dearest friends against me. Chris Raynor.”

A few “RAY-NOR” chants rise up, slowing Edwin’s momentum, but mostly boos echo out as Edwin continues to speak. “A man can leave his past behind. He can learn from it. The sorrows are always with him, the mistakes are always with him…but they can make him into a hero. Someone who fights AGAINST injustice rather than partaking. Who fights crime better than the criminal? When tragedy strikes, you can became a better man, or you can become a bitter man. I’ve gone better—Silent’s gone bitter. And poor Christopher has gotten trapped in the middle. And, fine friends of mine, Carnies and assorted other fans alike…I need to know this. The wolves are out there, clawing at my heels, scratching at my door. Their names are Wilson…Silent…Raynor…do you see where I’ve been? I’ll fight them if I must. Do you see what I’ve been through? Most importantly, do you see how I’ve come around?”

“We do, Edwin. We do,” affirms Mark Stevens.

“Come on Mark! Jesus Christ!”

“No, you come on, Bobby! Haven’t you ever done something wrong in your life? Haven’t you ever realized when you have to face facts? Edwin’s doing that now, and I admire him for it…”

“What I need from you, SWF fans,” entreats Edwin, “is your support. Your Carnival pride. Your reason, and your understanding: I’ve sinned, but I’ve redeemed myself. You’ve seen me before you for 18 months. You know what kind of a person I truly am. Think for yourself, and right now, I encourage you to make your own judgements.”

Edwin lowers the mic…and waits.

The fans in the Norfolk Arena stir…and in the back rows, a chant rises again. Weakly. But getting louder. Stronger.

“MacPhisto…”

Edwin smiles…and so do the fans.

“MAC-PHIST-OOOOO! MAC-PHIST-OOOOO! MAC-PHIST-OOOOO!”

“They’ve come around!” shouts Stevens. “The fans are on their for Edwin MacPhisto—they’re going to trust them, and see him through this! I think we’ve made the right choice, Bobby--”

Suddenly a rough voice shouts "SHUT UP!"

Edwin turns as a furious Chris Raynor stalks out from behind the curtain, and almost immediately a heavy rain of debris is heading his way. He dodges a cup, then brings the mic back up...

"You people believe him?!"

Twenty-thousand plus cheer their hearts out.

"YOU SAW THE TAPE!" Raynor flails his arms about, in absolutely disbelief. "You saw Wargames! You saw him sacrifice ME, and you believe him?! You believe this, this, this sack of shit?! What the HELL is-"

Raynor is forced to stop, as the cheering for Edwin and booing for himself has managed to completely drown out what he was saying. Edwin looks on gravely as Raynor tries to gather himself together... he slows himself down, before continuuing...

"Ok... let's look at the facts..."

"Wargames: Everyone from the Magnificent Seven is down but Outcast, who's breaking my arm. Everyone from the Carnival is down but Edwin, who's taking it to Danny. Edwin can take out Cast, save his friend, and they can do away with Danny together... or Edwin can go for the spotlight." Raynor holds up one finger.

"Chris, I was caught up in the moment, I didn-"

"SHUT IT, MACPHISTO!"

Edwin drops his mic, a little shocked.

"... wow..." is all Mark can say.

"So he loses Wargames for all of us. He's the leader of a losing stable. The fans don't want losers. What can Edwin do to remain their precious hero? Why, goad Wilson into ANOTHER fight, of course! He sacrificed our tag title reign for it, he signed that "pact" with Wilson which conveniently left the rest of the Carnival out... You do the math!" He holds up another finger.

"This is just insane!" cries Mark. "He thinks Edwin sabotaged the title match just to put heat on him and Wilson?!"

"You saying that's NOT what happened?!" Riley retorts, all caught up in it now. "What do you call diving into Wilson during the match?!"

"Wilson was interfering, you twit! Edwin was trying to help!"

Raynor begins pacing onstage, as he continues...

"So he gets his big money match with Wilson, and he wins! Now what's left? Edwin's got nowhere else to go! He's defeated damn near everyone this league has to offer... so he authorizes the bump for a man who he crippled, just to-"

Edwin wildly protests, shouting "I knew nothing about that-"

"Shut up!"

"No Raynor, you shut your goddamned mouth and listen!" Raynor stops, a little in shock at this outburst. Edwin is now the one who's hot...

"Listen to yourself, Raynor! You're a damn conspiracy theorist! You think I sacrificed our titles to push a match with Wilson?! You think I let you get second degree burns and a nearly broken arm to hype a match with Wilson?! You think I bumped Silent?!"

"How else would you explain it, Edwin?" Raynor fires back. "I've been in this federation for over a year and a half... let's look at the credentials here... I was the first Minor League Champion, and apparently I was good enough to be bumped in TWO WEEKS. From there, I got picked up by a little group called DIE HARD, you know, only one of the most dominant stables ever in the history of this company... I've had a US Title reign, FOUR Tag Title reigns... I beat MARK FUCKING STEVENS for the Intercontinental-Television Title - and where am I now? Where I've always been - right in the fucking middle, and I'm SICK OF IT!"

"Chris, nobody is denying your accomplishments-"

"Far from it, Edwin! Far far from it! You KNEW my time was coming! You knew it had to happen sooner or later, and sooner was about a half a year ago!"

"WHY, Chris? Why the bloody hell would I do this to you?! We were friends, in case you don't remember!"

"Were we, Edwin?! Your behavior as of late is awful suspicious to be taken for "friendship". Wilson was-"

"WHAT?!" MacPhisto eyes pop open at the mention of the name, and the crowd responds in kind. "What the hell were you doing talking to Wilson?!"

"I was learning the truth!"

Edwin drops the microphone by his side and begins pacing in circles in the ring, trying hard not to just lose it. Raynor begins down the ramp...

"You were scared, Edwin. You were scared that maybe you weren't cut out to be the number one good guy in wrestling, that it was someone elses time. So what do you do? Buddy up to the guy you're trying to hold back! I'm not gonna question the World Champion when he's my partner and coholder of the Tag Team Championships with me, am I?"

"So you wanted a shot?" Edwin quickly fires back, now heated up again. "Why didn't you ask? Why didn't you say "Hey there Edwin, I think I'm ready to move on up, think we could have a match?" You know I wouldn't have turned you down!"

"Why didn't I ask?! Because of the second degree burns and a nearly broken shoulder, which I'm also sure you orchestrated! Sure Edwin, it's easy to say now "Why didn't you just ask me," when I was injured beyond all hope of beating you!"

“…the fans definitely made the right choice listening to Edwin,” mumbles Stevens. “I can’t believe Chris has fallen so far…”

A long uneasy silence, as each man is totally, completely, wholly disgusted with the other. The fans fill the noise gap though, with a small "ED-WIN" chant among the thousands upon thousands of boos.

"And getting back to Silent - you stop me from fighting to "protect me", then let me go out just one week later, while feeding Z to him instead?! Z's got everything you've got, Edwin - charisma, heart, and an obscenely large fanbase - hell, with me out of the way, he would've been best bet for your usurper! So you figure two birds with one stone, an-"

"Where the HELL are you getting all this, Raynor?! Go find a hidden security camera tape with me plotting with McWeed to book these matches, or, or, or a transcription of a telephone call, because all you're doing is connecting the dots without a god-damn pencil!"

Suddenly the arena blacks out, and "Retribution" rattles the stage. Mark shouts "Silent?! This is turning into a freaking trial!" as Riley can only cackle with glee... moments later, the Slaughterer himself steps out, cane in one hand, microphone in the other. Raynor is trapped between the two, keeping his cold stare on the now dark form of Edwin in the ring...

“Edwin…or should I say, Jimmy…I’m quite proud of you,” sneers the Silent One, as Raynor glances back at him, welcoming the back-up. “You’ve been so very…forthcoming. It’s been six years, Edwin, and now my neck is allll better. Why don’t you tell them the whole truth, Edwin? Why don’t you tell them how let Jessica--”

And suddenly, the arena erupts in cheers as the surging sounds of “Quarantined” flood the arena! Silent whips around on his heel and Raynor curses up a storm as the Balancer himself appears on the entrance ramp, just a few feet behind Silent, bathed in red light and bearing a microphone of his own! “Thoth’s here!” shouts Stevens! “The rebel Clansman…slated to fight his own teammates in just a few moments…he’s out here to weigh in with HIS thoughts!”

Thoth steps up as the music fades, and stares sharply into Silent’s eyes, giving a cursory glance to Raynor.

“Raynor…Silent…would you please…” Thoth pauses, letting the silence hang…

“…shut your blathering mouths?” HUGE pop from the crowd, and Silent backs off a few steps, sneering in disgust at Thoth.

“Yuuchiro, don’t you understand--”

“Yes, ‘Nathan,’ ‘Damien,’ whatever you’re calling yourself today, I do understand! I understand what you’re trying to do here, and I don’t like it! We all have our pasts, our shadows—Edwin has reconciled his as best he can. I’ve fought to do the same. And now, you come out here, dripping with hate, to try to cut down a good man’s honor? I have honor—Edwin has honor—and both you and Chris Raynor have nothing but wordgames and delusions.”

“Thoth, standing up for Edwin MacPhisto—this is a partnership we’ve seen on the rocks and in flux many times throughout this year, but it feels like battle lines are being drawn, Bobby!”

“I’ll see you in the ring soon, Silent. As for you, Edwin…I understand. As a man with a past who has tried to change—has hoped he HAS changed—I understand. I’m finished here.”

“Well, I god-damn sure am NOT!” screams Chris Raynor, spiraling around on the entrance ramp. “I’ll fight you, Edwin—I’ll fight you now! I’ll show these people who’s right, and who’s wrong, and who the real hero is!”

“Not today, Chris,” smirks the Mac Daddy. “Not today.” And with that, as Raynor bolts towards ringside, Thoth and Silent engaged in a staredown behind him, Edwin bails out of the ring, leaps the guardrail…and is borne back and away on the arms of the cheering fans, surfing him out of the crowd! Raynor tries to make the leap, but the fans hold him back, not letting him get an inch out into their midst!

“The fans have spoken,” shouts Mark Stevens, as “Battleflag” starts to blare, “and they’ve spoken with authority—for now, Edwin MacPhisto has their trust, and Chris Raynor has their scorn!”

“But what was Silent about to say before Thoth interrupted him, Mark?” wonders Riley. “We’ve heard a lot tonight, but something tells me we haven’t heard everything.”

“Time will tell, Bobby, but right now we’ve got other things in store—namely, a monstrous tag match! It’s the Clan versus the Clan, next, right after this commercial break!”

We cut to commercial as Chris Raynor rages against the guardrail, and up on the ramp, Silent and Thoth part ways, glaring burning holes towards each other…

August 31, 2002

The Card

TAG TEAM MATCH

Tom Flesher & Silent vs. Annie Eclectic & Thoth

- Silent and Thoth haven’t been getting along lately, and when the balancer lost a shot at the heavyweight title to Magnifico at Apocalypse due to botched interference ordered by Silent, he turned on the slaughterer. Are the rest of the Clan still allied with Silent? Can Annie and her former ally work together? Find out this Friday!

NO-DQ SINGLES MATCH

Chris Raynor vs. Z

- Chris Raynor turned on Edwin MacPhisto and the Carnival at Apocalypse. Since he’s now evil, he has a driving need to hurt anyone who used to be his friend. This includes the SWF’s plucky punching bag, Z.

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

SINGLES MATCH

Frost vs. Xero

- Frost & TNT beat Danny & Xero at Apocalypse. So uhhh…here we are. Xero vs. Frost, it’s the law of wrestling.

TAG MATCH

Longdogger Pete & Renegade vs. Jay Dawg & Sacred

- Sacred beat Renegade at Apocalypse, and Jay Dawg was involved in Pete’s losing effort against Perfect Bo. Tag-team fun this Friday!

SINGLES MATCH

The Boston Strangler vs. Tod deKindes

- That evil Boston Strangler retired Erek Taylor at Apocalypse. Tod deKindes wasn’t even booked for the show and is itching for action. Will he be able to gain a bit of vengeance for X force 9 this Friday?

SINGLES MATCH

El Luchadore Magnifico vs. Lerrin Breggan

- Magnifico pinned Lerrin Breggan in a triple threat match at Apocalypse to become the heavyweight title #1 contender. How will he fare against the monster one on one though?

ICTV TITLE MATCH

Chris Wilson © vs. Perfect Bo

- These two have their share of history, and at Apocalypse Bo dealt with Longdogger Pete to get a shot at Chris Wilson’s ICTV title. Wilson suffered another loss to Edwin on Sunday, but will he be able to hold onto the ICTV title on Storm?

August 31, 2002

A Newlife Production

“Aaaaand we’re back!”

Bobby Riley gently drums the announce table. SWF Storm is returning from commercial break, and he shuffles some papers rapidly to make it look like he’s doing something important. Grand Slam adjusts his headset.

“If you’re just joining us,” Mark says, “we’re ready for a great show. Post Apocalypse. No new champions, but some honestly strange developments.”

“Everybody’s got some ‘splainin’ to do,” Riley interrupts. “But don’t forget, we could have a new champion sometime soon. El Luchadore Magnifico is the number one contender.”

“And the ICTV Title could change hands here tonight. Bo vs. Wilson!”

“A huge night, and its all on free TV!”

Speaking of free TV- The Smark Tron suddenly begins to flash, and its on! Everyone looks up, including the two ringside announcers as the now controversial homemade looking video feed streams into the Norfolk Scope. The people are suddenly on their feet.

“Hey! It’s another hacked feed!” Grand Slam stands out of his seat, and Riley follows suit.

“This happened at the opening of Apocalypse. That timer is still counting down!”

Sure enough, in the bottom right hand corner of the huge screen is a timer. Days, hours, minutes, and seconds all count down. A bit more interesting, however, is the footage itself. It appears to be someone walking down the hall. The camera pans, before continuing on the way. Riley points.

“I know where that is, someone get a crew out there!”

Indeed, a camera man, complete with security crew, is already on the way. The live feed shows its operator heading towards a guardrail nearby. Then, the camera itself climbs over the guardrail and looks down. The people gasp, as it seems like the owner of the camcorder will jump down to his injury, but her or she apparently grabs ahold of the rail, and swings down to the level just below, where he hands the camera to a vendor, clad in a “Hallelujah, BITCH!” old school Edwin MacPhisto Tee Shirt. Before the vendor can turn the lens on his benefactor, however, the owner bails, diving over the railing. The tee-shirt seller follows, but by the time he looks down, the mystery voyeur has disappeared. Almost immediately, the SWF crew is on hand, having to take the stairs down a level. The feed is restored, but the only remaining evidence of intrusion is a small camcorder. And hanging from its strap is a tag. A tag that simply reads:

“IT’S BEGINNING!”

“Another message!” Riley screams, obviously a little impatient.

“What’s Beginning? What’s Coming? Would somebody please explain what the hell is going on? On Apocalypse Sunday, this same person probably was in the arena. But what does this have to do with the SWF?”

“Nobody knows, Mark. But this had better be good.”

Grand Slam shakes his head.

“Well, order is restored, but this mystery man is one of the most enigmatic I’ve ever seen. There’s got to be more to it than this.”

Bobby and Mark continue to discuss among themselves as “IT’S BEGINNING!” lingers on the screen and the people are left to wonder just what “IT” is.

…to be continued…

August 31, 2002

The post-Apocalyptic Storm kicks it off with a hot, passionate match! Passionate like in the hot-blooded sense! I mean... anger! Yeah, that’s the ticket! Sigh... let’s go to the announce table.

“Fans... welcome to the first show after Apocalypse! And let me tell you, the fallout will definitely be felt today!” greets Mark Stevens, excited to be not only in attendance, but broadcasting.

“Stevens, you know... Fallout really isn’t my type. He’s too-”

“Stop there. No- No. Stop there.” Stevens sighs, having averted another potential PR disaster spewed from the mouth of Bobby Riley... “But we also need to stop for a moment and reflect on what happened at Apocalypse.”

(A promotional package rolls of footage from last Sunday’s blockbuster Pay Per View... scenes of Silent and Annie Eclectic battling each other, Thoth losing his match at the unwitting hands of his own Clanmates, Divefire’s return as Jay Dawg stands tall over the HVille Thugg, Edwin MacPhisto’s victory over Chris Wilson signaling the end of an era, and the beginning of a new one as Chris Raynor struck down his leader and friend and revealed the truth about the most beloved man in the history of the Smarks Wrestling Federation.)

“Tonight, we begin the road to Genesis 3, and the road that will end some of the conflicts that have arisen over the past two years. Our first match should be one hell of a contest, pitting Thoth and Annie Eclectic against Silent and The Superior One, Tom Flesher.”

“Stevens, each one of these wrestlers has ties to the Clan, whether it be membership in the organization itself, over having a psychotic long lost twin sister who... dang, you know, that one’s a bit complicated, but I’m talking about Annie Eclectic.”

“Last Sunday at Apocalypse, Fallout and Tom Flesher tried to interfere on Thoth’s behalf in the triple threat #1 Contendership match, but it backfired, and Thoth lost that match.” (The Smarkstron shows stills of last Sunday as Thoth stands up, indignant in the face of the Clan as Silent walks down and claims responsibility for the incident. Things come to blows.)

“What is the state of the Clan as of tonight?” continues Mark Stevens, asking a rhetorical question. “We’ll see, as it’s Clan versus Clan.”

The main riff of Quarantined immediately plays as the lights turn blood red. Thoth hurries from the back, walking powerfully with a scowl on his face towards the ring, Annie Eclectic following behind with a mild look of concern, and last, but not least... well okay, least, Molly hurrying as best he can.

“The following tag team contest is scheduled for one fall! Introducing first, at a total combined weight of 411 pounds, ANNIE ECLEEEETIC... and THOOOOTH!”

As soon as the first team gets in the ring, Molly on the outside, “Retribution (Front 242 Remix)” plays over the PA and the defiant, powerful-looking team from the Clan appears from behind the curtain. Annie sets her Kendo sword in the corner as they await their opponents.

“And their opponents, weighing in together at 461 pounds, the S-W-F United States and Light Heavyweight Champion... TOM FLESHER... and SILENT!”

Flesher walks down the ramp first, Silent following cloesly behind, arms folded at the waist in front of him. Flesher hops up onto the apron and holds the ropes open for his Clan master, who steps through and looks out the crowd with a mixture of apathy and disdain while Flesher yells at them to be respectful and shut the hell up. Thoth cracks his knuckles as he steps out onto the apron, Annie shaking out her legs, ready to go. Silent calmly steps through the ropes to the other side, dropping his cane in the corner and leaving Tom to be the anchor for his team. The lights, which obviously have turned off because a wrestler had made his entrance, turn back on now, and Flesher drops into a wrestling stance, ready to fight.

*DING DING DING*

The two wrestlers circle each other for a brief moment, but then they approach each other, Annie’s arms spread, ready to lock up, but Flesher, sneaky, crafty, and thinking ahead, goes for a boot to the gut and connects, doubling the Angelic One over and allowing Flesher to go to work on the back of Annie’s neck with some vicious elbows, ramming them over and over into the top of the spine. Annie shakes it off after the fourth blow and grabs Flesher’s arm, slap-hitting him to disorient him before whipping him to the ropes and connecting with the Drop Kiss to send him down to the canvas. Flesher gets up quickly, wiping his mouth, slightly sore. He scowls, and comes in for the lockup, and Annie obliges him, collar and elbow. Tom pushes up against Annie’s resistance, scoring a waistlock and holding it tight, but Annie twists her hips, tossing Flesher onto the mat again and locking in an arm bar. The ref slides in, making sure the hold is legal, then steps back. Flesher exhales through clenched teeth, a hint of frustration showing through his eyes. He flails his free arm, and gets ahold of Annie’s bob of raven black hair, yanking on it hard. She yelps out in surprise, andthe referee interjects himself, yelling for Flesher to let go. By then, though, the purpose has been served, and Flesher is free and back on his feet. Annie dashes in, but Flesher gets his big arms around her and connects with a Railgun Suplex, sending her crashing to the canvas far overhead. Thoth, from his perch on the apron, grits his teeth, willing Annie to get back up and keep fighting. Annie is up now, but Flesher is the one who is bringing the fight, having no qualms over hitting a woman. Right hands batter the face of the Hardcore Queen as she is pushed up against the ropes tightly. Tom winds up, and strikes Annie across the top of her chest, grazing her breasts just so, raising a “Woo!” from the crowd and a red mark on the point of impact. Irish whip to the far side... Flesher squares himself, ready to fire off another Railgun Suplex. Annie hustles back, not in control of her own momentum... she sees Tom standing the same way he was moments ago... and uses the uncontrollable momentum to her advantage, leaping high over Flesher and scoring a Sunset Flip! She pulls on his ankles, and he topples over, as the referee slides in on one side, counting the fall!

ONE!

TWO!

Tom kicks out to the side, escaping the pin. He backs off for a moment, pacing himself so as not to charge blindly towards Annie Eclectic when she has the momentum. On the outside, Molly jumps up and down, bouncing, if you will, happy that Annie is turning the tide. Tom takes a step forward towards Annie, then stops, and smiles. He turns around and reaches out to tag the hand of the Slaughterer, who slowly gets into the ring, staring his Apocalypse opponent down. Annie does not slink away, knowing that Silent is as human as the rest of us. He ambles forward at his own pace, fists clenching and unclenching seemingly with minds of their own. The two close distance on each other...

And Silent damn near takes Annie’s head off with a clothesline.

“Well, this match had some promise of being a catch as catch can style... but that just ended when the Slaughterer got tagged in,” observes Stevens. Silent stomps on the back of Annie’s head hard as she tries to get up, slamming his boot down with the force and authority of unadulterated hatred. Annie struggles to her feet and peppers Silent’s face with some right hands which faze him... but nothing more. Molly screeches in fear as Annie is taken down with another clothesline. She tries to scamper away on her hands and feet, but Silent gets ahold of her hair and yanks her up violently. She struggles, but Silent’s grip is iron-clad...

But his testicles aren’t! Annie gets a kick to the gonads, bringing a grimace to the visage of Silent... but he no-sells!

“Man... I only have one theory as to how Silent can take a Galatea Special like that and not flinch... and it involves a lack of scrotum,” says Riley, thoughtfully. At least, that’s about as thoughtful as he can be without sex. Annie lunges over, reaching out to tag the hand of her partner, Thoth, who reaches out to accept it. He steps through the ropes...

And stands across the ring... from Silent. The crowd falls hushed as two of the greatest member of the Clan fight each other as legitimate opponents for the first time in over a year. Silent inhales deeply, closing his eyes...

And turns around, tagging in Tom Flesher. The crowd yells obscenities and screams and boos, but Silent ignores it, stepping back onto the apron as Tom takes his place, confused and bewildered.

“Look! Did you see that? Silent is afraid to get in the ring with Thoth!”

“Afraid? Stevens, were you born stupid? Silent just doesn’t want to hurt the poor guy.”

The crowd is still booing their heads off as Thoth, angry and frustrated, takes his aggressions out on his Clanmate, Tom Flesher, kicking him the gut and delivering hammering blows to the back of his neck.

“So much for Clan unity.”

Thoth jumps into the air and comes down hard, slamming Flesher headfirst into the mat with a guillotine face driver. Looking to end the match as quickly as possible, Thoth rolls Flesher over and covers him for

ONE!

TWO!

KICKOUT! Flesher rolls to his stomach and tries to get away, but Thoth grabs him by the head and yanks him back into a lockup. Quickly, Thoth throws Tom overhead with a snap suplex, then floats over. Rather than go for the pin, however, Thoth reaches up and tags in Annie, who looks extremely excited.

"Look at this," says Stevens. "Annie's been waiting for this for months!"

"Oh, Mark. Silly, silly Mark. She can't do that to Tom on TV!"

"Do you ever think about anything besides sex?"

Riley looks confused. "Well, what else IS there?"

Annie jumps into the ring. Flesher immediately grabs her to lock up, only to be met by a kick to the chest. "Annie's taking advantage of the fact that Thoth stunned Flesher," says Stevens, "which gives her a chance to keep Flesher in the ring for her own purposes." Riley giggles, prompting Stevens to dismiss him with an "Oh, grow up." With Flesher stunned, Annie boots him in the face again, prompting a quick pop from the crowd. Flesher stands straight up with the impact, and when he does....

SMACK!!!!!!!

Annie slaps him hard across the face! Flesher grabs his stinging cheek, only to be met with another quick kick to the face! Quickly, fluidly, Annie steps into an Irish whip and sends Flesher crashing into the corner. As soon as he impacts the turnbuckles, Annie follows him in, springs off the mat and nails him in the face with a hard knee strike! Flesher grabs his face again, and Annie waits patiently after regaining her balance. As soon as Tom drops his hands from his face, the Angelic One unloads with a monstrous bitchslap across his face, and as he recoils, she turns around and raises her arms to a monstrous pop from the crowd.

"Bobby," Mark says, trying to hide his enjoyment of the situation, "Do you remember what happened the last time Annie and Tom wrestled?"

"Why, yes, Mark, I do." Riley chuckles to himself. "Annie's face was black and blue all over! Unprettier on the concrete, and a Superiority Complex... man, I'm surprised she didn't need plastic surgery!"

Annie swings out and boots Flesher in the face again.

"You... DO realize what she's doing, don't you?"

"Yeah, she's playing hard to get, am I right?"

The Eclectic One unloads one more quick kick to the Superior One's face.

"Wow, Bobby, you really ARE stupid."

With Flesher's face now sore from the beating he's taken through the flurry, Annie whips him into her own corner. She charges in, but doesn't strike. Rather, she tags back out to the Balancer.

Thoth enters the ring and faces off with Flesher. Flesher half-stands, half-leans in the corner, while Thoth stands square to him. It's abundantly clear who's in better position, and the fact is made painfully obvious to Tom when Thoth pulls him slightly toward the center of the ring, takes control and slams him into the mat with a Downward Spiral! With that, Thoth picks Flesher up to his feet and whips him into his own corner, where Silent stands waiting patiently. Flesher nearly collapses in the corner, stunned from the onslaught he'd just taken. Silent sees Flesher hit the turnbuckle and stands coolly. Thoth, angry that Silent refuses to tag in, stares bullets at his stablemate, then turns around and walks back to the corner. There, he tags in Annie Eclectic. As soon as Silent hears the crack of the tag being made, he slaps Flesher on the shoulder with such force that the Superior One falls to the mat and rolls under the bottom rope to get to the outside of the ring, then steps in.

"Silent's being quite the asshole here, Bobby," stays Stevens.

"Oh, Mark. I've seen many assholes in my life, and Silent's definitely not one of them. He's just wrestling a strategically sound match, and for him, that involves not wrestling Thoth at this point."

Silent squares off with Annie, who throws a kick to the chest. Silent just stands there. Annie follows it up with another kick, this one met with a subtle raise of the eyebrow, as if to say "Oh, little girl, you can't hurt me." One more stiff kick, and this time Silent steps forward and sends Annie crashing to the mat with a Burning Lariat! Looking almost bored, he nudges Annie with his toe the way one might nudge a sleeping dog to check if it is, in fact, alive, then turns around and slaps the groggy Tom Flesher on the shoulder again before stepping out of the ring. Flesher sighs and re-enters the ring, falling into a stance. Annie, selling Silent's lariat like a cheap red wine hangover, can barely get to her feet before Flesher nails her with a running Yakuza kick. Annie crumbles to the mat, and Flesher drops down on top of her, covering her for

ONE!

TWO!

but no more, as the former Clan Assassin kicks out comfortably. She rolls away, but Flesher grabs her ankle before she can make it to the safety of her corner. Quickly, he steps over and locks on a half crab hold targetting her left leg, then sits and takes a breather. Annie struggles to break the hold, spurred on as she looks to the SmarkTron and sees Flesher grinning at the referee. She starts to push herself up, even angrier when she sees Flesher wipe his brow sarcastically. With one strong effort, she pushes herself up and then pulls herself a few more inches to get the rope break! Flesher releases the hold, grinningly confident, and turns around to face Annie as she gets to her feet. She charges at him, only to be met with a stiff palm strike to the jaw! Staggered by the impact, if not enjoying the pain just a little, the Hardcore Queen is off her game enough to be whipped into the corner where Silent awaits her. Silent reaches around and absently holds her arms while Flesher charges in with a running shotei. Upon impact, he releases her, and she staggers forward. Flesher catches the Angelic One in a quick Railgun Suplex, then covers her for

ONE!

TWO!

"He got her!" shouts Riley gleefully. "He got her!"

But the referee waves it off! "He never made the three-count, Bobby!"

"What the hell?"

"She's just so resilient! She's the Hardcore Queen!"

Flesher looks up at Silent, frustrated and unsure what to do. All of a sudden...

"Look at the entrance, Bobby!"

"What is it? A Unitarian?"

The crowd pops like a cherry on prom night as they see Tod deKindes walking out to the ring! They cheer as he slowly walks toward the squared circle, his gaze fixed on Flesher. Flesher looks down at Annie... looks up at Tod... and starts smirking. He quickly yanks Annie to her feet and whips her to the corner, then promptly runs over and smacks Thoth with a shotei! The Clan leader staggers back from the unexpected blow to the head and jumps off the apron as Flesher baits deKindes. Tod jumps up onto the apron, prompting the referee to step up and block him from entering.

In the meantime, with Thoth stunned and the ref's back turned, Silent listlessly picks up the cane. He spins the disoriented Annie around and nails her on the left side of the neck with the cane... but Annie stays standing! He swings the cane out and hits her on the right side of the neck! She wobbles, but doesn't fall down! Finally, the Slaughterer lifts the cane up high and swings it down hard, sending the wooden shaft crashing down onto the top of Annie's skull! Tod deKindes pleads with the official to turn around as Annie crumbles to the mat. Silent, meanwhile, drops the cane to the floor.

"What an unethical thing to do," spits Stevens. "They can't take her down fairly, so he has to use that damn cane!"

"Oh, bite me, Mark. It's just speeding up the inevitable."

Flesher hears the cane fall and turns around to see the heap of Annie on the mat. He nods, and Silent drops to the floor to pick up the cane. Flesher picks Annie up over his shoulder and carries her over to the corner, setting her down on the top turnbuckle. With that, he climbs up the ropes. Silent picks up the cane and begins walking to the back.

"Where the hell does Silent think he's going?!"

Riley replies, "Probably to go make sure they get this Boilermaker on tape!"

Silent walks brusquely past deKindes, who watches in horror as Flesher lifts Annie up, stalls for a moment, and nails the avalanche-style brainbuster known as the Boilermaker. After a moment to get his wind back, Flesher rolls over for

ONE!

TWO!

THREE!!!!!!!!!!

*DING DING DING!*

Funyon announces, "The winners of this match, the team of Silent and 'The Superior One,' Tom Flesher!" Tod and Thoth both slide into the ring, but as they do, Flesher slips out under the bottom rope. Tod helps Annie back to her feet, and as Flesher walks back to the locker room, he turns around and waves playfully at the German.

"How can they even call that a win?" fumes Stevens. "It took a foreign object... and three shots... PLUS a tactical error by Tod deKindes!"

"Yeah, but all that matters is who gets the check in the W column!"

Flesher spins around and walks through the curtain as Annie shakes off the cobwebs, looking remarkably alert for someone who had just taken a concussion-worthy beating with a cane. Tod stares angrily at the curtain, and Thoth looks more frustrated than ever with his Clanmates. With that, we...

Fade.

August 31, 2002

The opening notes of “The Grudge” pound their way out, and the Norfolk Scope Arena completely drown it out with incessant booing…

-- Mark: Welcome back, folks, and… as you can tell, the Raynor/Z bout is up next…

The man himself steps up through the strobing lights and smoke, and though it doesn’t seem possible, the jeers intensify. Raynor looks out at the crowd, a look of bewilderment on his face…

-- Mark: …and it doesn’t look like Raynor’s enjoying the reaction he’s getting.

-- Riley: And he shouldn’t! This man is my new savior!

-- Mark: Please don’t tell me you bought into that steaming pile earlier…

Raynor stops on his way down the ramp, shouting “Why are you booing ME?!” to a group of young children in the front row. One of them hits Raynor in the face with a giant foam hand, and the former Carny quickly turns away, completely flabbergasted.

“The following contest,” Funyon bellows, “is scheduled for one fall! Introducing first, from Baton Rouge, Louisiana… weighing in at two hundred and fifty pounds… Chriiiiiisss Rayyyynooooorrr!”

-- Riley: The nerve of these ingrates, booing this man!

-- Mark: Riley, he’s gone nuts! You heard the conspiracy theories he was rattling off - Edwin goading Wilson and Silent into fights just so he could keep himself in the Pay Per View Main Events… you really think Edwin would do that?

-- Riley: Of cou-

-- Mark: Don’t answer that. There‘s no two ways about it, Raynor has completely flipped out.

-- Riley: Well, hell Mark, you know him better than me - what did him in?

-- Mark: I honestly have no idea. Jealousy, maybe?

-- Riley: What’s that? You say Edwin was jealous of Raynor, and tried to hold him down?

-- Mark: … I’m not talking to you anymore.

Raynor rolls in under the ropes and pops to his feet, still looking incredibly confused. His eyes scan across the crowd, looking for some form of sympathy out there… nothing…

Quite suddenly, Faith No More’s “Epic” funks its way on down, and the fans do a complete 180, erupting in a massive cheer for the one-letter wonder!

“His opponent, from Trenton, New Jersey… weighing in at two hundred and twenty-nine pounds… Zeeeeeee!”

The spunky young Carny pops out from behind the curtain to another huge ovation! He halfheartedly salutes his fans, keeping his eyes on the ring, on Raynor, the whole time. He jogs down the ramp, coming to a stop to watch as Raynor again drives himself nuts trying to figure out this reaction. To be safe, Z waits until his opponent is shouting at the fans from across the ring before sliding in.

*DING DING DING*

Raynor and Z step up to the center of the ring, eye to eye-

*SLAP*

“Oooooooooh!” goes the crowd, as well as the commentators. Raynor slowly turns his face back to Z, his cheek now sporting a bright red handmark… Z prepares for the worst…

-- Riley: Not smart, Zeezo..

-- Mark: … Zeezo?

-- Riley: You got a better nickname for him?

Raynor rears back and throws a zinger of a right hand, but Z ducks, dashes behind him, and shoves him into the ropes! Raynor turns his side into them and bounces back right into a HUGE Arm Grenade, that ends up slamming Raynor down to the canvas with a resounding *THUD*! He pops back up to his feet, confused as all hell, and goes down to a second shot!

-- Mark: Z is exploding right out of the gate!

-- Riley: Oh hardy har.

-- Mark: Hey, I thought it was clever.

Raynor jumps back to his feet and stumbles back into a corner, and Z wastes little time in charging him from across the ring and squishing him into the turnbuckle! The One-Letter Wonder turns his back to Raynor and begins shouting to the fans, who give a huge ovation in response! But the moment he turns around, Raynor shoots out to deliver a clothesline of his own, and this one won’t be gotten up from so easily.

-- Riley: Owwww! That hurt just seeing it!

Raynor shrugs his shoulder a few times, as if he ended up hurting his arm in the process, then he bends down to pick Z up-

-Z suddenly pushes his head up, knocking it into Raynor’s chin! A muffled “FUGH!” as Raynor falls away, holding his jaw, giving Z plenty of time to kip-up! The little man tackles Raynor from behind and drives him into the ropes, then uses the recoil to roll him up!

ONE!

TWO!

TH- Raynor kicks out!

-- Riley: Oh man, if Z had won it that early, I… well, I just don’t know what I’d do!”

Z is leaning down, shouting “Come on! Come on!” as Raynor rolls to his feet. The big man gets to his knees, then pushes off and sprints right into Z! The two form a nice little two man clusterfuck that hits the ropes, and rolls into the corner, Raynor pounding Z into the turnbuckle. The referee frantically scratches and claws his way in between them, and finally manages to pull Raynor off. The referee gives him a stern talking to-

-then gets violently shoved aside by Z, who then piles back into Raynor and drives HIM into the corner!

-- Mark: Good lord, these guys are really going at it!

The referee says a quick prayer then dives back in, this time pushing Z away from his former comrade. Z just begins nodding to whatever the hell Kivell is saying, to get him out of the way, then he heads back to the corner. He takes Raynor by the arm and begins an Irish whip, but Raynor reverses! He sends Z towards the opposite corner, then yanks him back for a short-armed clothesline! He holds on to Z’s arm and drags him back up to his feet, then pushes him out, reels him back in-

-- Mark: -to a Powerslam, into the cover!

ONE!

T- Z kicks out! Raynor rolls up off him and drags him by his obnoxiously blue hair, then scoops him up and carries him over to a nearby corner. He puts Z’s legs over the ropes and lets him hang down in the corner, then begins firing away-

-- Mark: I don’t think the crowd’s gonna count along for this one.

ONE!

TWO!

THREE!

FOUR!

FIVE!

SIX!

SEVEN!

EIGHT!

NINE!

TEN punches to Z’s exposed midsection, and the boos just get louder with every one. Raynor pulls Z out, then turns and looks bewilderingly out at the fans. Z fires off an “Oof” as he props himself up on his elbows and slowly clambers to his feet - the moment he’s up, Raynor takes him by the arm and heaves him into the ropes. The rookie rebounds off and Raynor goes low for a backdrop - Z leapfrogs across his back, and hits the other side! He comes off fast, but Raynor quickly scoops him up, spins around 180 degrees and drops him in a-

-- Mark: *flinching* HARD hard backbreaker!

Raynor stands back up, carrying Z with him for a few more seconds before sticking out his knee and dropping Z across it again!

-- Riley: Raynor’s look a lot more professional, wouldn’t you say?

-- Mark: You’ve got a punch line for this, I know it.

-- Riley: Don’t you think it’s convenient that he wrestle better after being unshackled from eVil Eddie’s grasp of DOOM~?

Raynor again pulls Z back up, and walks to the center of the ring, then drops him in a Sidewalk Slam into an easy cover.

ONE!

Raynor leans back to hook the leg.

TW- He pays for it as he gets kneed in the face! Z rolls away and pops to his feet as Raynor wonders just how much punishment his teeth are gonna have to take tonight, so Z does a front side leg takedown. He then grabs Raynor’s arms and traps them beneath his own legs-

-- Mark: Z, I wouldn’t recommend this…

-and rolls the big man onto his knees, locking in the most humiliating move… EVER! Nelbina! Z begins with an elaborate pose, which consists of one hand pointing to Raynor and the other giving a middle finger, drawing a great reaction! He then flexes, and pounds a fist into the palm of his other hand, then elbows Raynor as he tries to get up-

-- Riley: You aren’t helping yourself, Z!

-then does a classic Hogan “I can’t hear you!” pose!!!

Which is rudely interrupted as Raynor rolls onto his back, or rather onto the Z that’s latched onto his back. Z releases his grip, and the two men get to their feet at roughly the same time - Z just ends up going back down hella quick, as Raynor fires a MEAN knee to the gut, then stands to his side, grapevine’s the leg, Forward Legsweep! Raynor jumps back up, not happy about the Nelbina, and he begins laying into Z’s little head with size 11 boots…

-- Mark: Z should have known better than to try that now…

-- Riley: It’s exactly that sort of crap that Raynor used to pull, and look where it landed him!

-- Mark: It landed him in quite possibly the greatest stable ever, with some of the greatest people ever, with maybe the biggest fan base ever.

-- Riley: Details.

Raynor grabs a handful of hair and drags Z back up to his feet, then moves behind him and wraps Z’s own arms around his throat. He then drops Z straight down on his back, rolls him over, and rolls over onto his back for a sick submission maneuver!

-- Mark: Wow… Raynor really IS wrestling different…

-- Riley: See what I mean? When’s the last time Raynor did a submission? At all?

Without his hands, Z can’t exactly tap out, but it’s easy to see that he’s feeling the burn… He begins rocking back and forth, trying to shake the monkey from his back, but Raynor just pulls back harder, in effect causing Z to choke himself out! The One-Letter Wonder’s movements begin to slow, just as the crowd picks up a “Z! Z! Z!” chant. Finally, Z’s eyelids flutter shut, and his head goes limp. Raynor releases Z’s arms so the ref can check-

-and the arms suddenly fly up and grab Raynor by the head, and Snapmare him over!

-- Mark: Z was playing possum!

-- Riley: That was SO a page ripped from Silent’s book!

Z wraps his arm around Raynor’s neck and walks him up to his feet, then spins around and drops Raynor, driving his elbow down into his chest!

-- Mark: Turn and Burn! Into the cover!

ONE!

TW- Raynor kicks up! Z pops up and sprints away, apparently hitting his second wind. Raynor rolls to his feet to intercept Z, who’s coming off the ropes, but Z baseball slides underneath him, and jumps to his feet. He fires an elbow into the back of Raynor’s head, then grabs him while he’s stunned and intertwines their legs, Side Ru-

-- Mark: -ssian Legsweep! Looks like Z’s channeling the fans!

“Z! Z! Z!” fills up the Norfolk Scope Arena, and the End of the Alphabet pumps his fists to the rhythm of the chant! He then grabs the rising Raynor by the hair and yanks him to his feet, hooks the arm…

-- Mark: Uh oh… no, not this!

-- Riley: No! I can’t watch! Z, please, don’t do the-

Seemingly Unsymmetrical Snap Suplex of Insidiousness!!!

-- Riley: The horror!

The crowd is on their feet as Z yells inane babble to rile them up! Raynor has a hold of the ropes and is desperately trying to collect his bearings - he sees Z approaching, and he takes the blind charge…

… not smark.

*FWOOSH*

*THUD*

-- Mark: Hiptoss of Hauntingly Hellish Discombobulation! Z goes for the cover!

ONE!

TWO!

T- Raynor gets the shoulder up!

-- Riley: Oh come on Mark, it was just a hiptoss.

Z jumps up and backs into the corner, and begins stamping his feet, calling for the Blizzard of Oz! Raynor is Hauntingly and Hellishly Discombobulated from the hiptoss, and he as he gets to his feet he has no idea that Z is charging-

-oh, yes he does. Raynor ducks the kick! Z loses his footing and nearly falls over, so Raynor grabs him by the shoulder, spins him around, kick to the gut, Gutwrench Powerbomb! Z flippy-flops, and Raynor falls back into the corner, exhausted from the punishment still too recently received.

Z props himself up on his elbows and begins the slow ascent up, but is cut off as Raynor dashes from across the ring and drops a hard elbow across the back of his neck! A second, a third, and a final fourth ensure he won’t try getting up for a while, and Raynor now takes his time in dragging the poor kid up to his feet.

-- Mark: Z keeps trying to take control of the flow of the match, but he hasn’t had too much luck so far.

Raynor gets the wobbly Z up to his feet, and assures him it’s the last time he’ll be upright as he whips him into the ropes, then hits a spinning back elbow right into the Z’ster’s jaw! Z goes down hard, and Raynor heads for the corner…

-- Riley: Must… resist… flying joke…

-- Mark: What, like “Thank you for flying Raynor airlines?”, or some other corny thing you come up with.

-- Riley: Oh come on, I don’t come up with anything that bad.

Raynor quickly steps through the ropes and ascends to the top of the post. He takes a moment to balance himself on the top turnbuckle…

-- Riley: Please make sure your tray tables are in an upright and locked position!

Mark: Good lord…

… and Raynor leaps off, extending his right arm and driving the point of his elbow deep into Z’s chest cavity! Z tries to roll away, but Raynor pull him back into a cover!

ONE!

TWO!

T

H

R- Z kicks out, to a tremendous cheer from the crowd!

-- Mark: Man, he’s really hangin’ in there!

Raynor grabs Z’s nearest arm and pulls him up to his feet. He hooks the arm, then stops as the crowd begins booing incessantly. His eyes slightly glaze over, as he stares out at the hordes of Z-a-maniacs…

-- Riley: No no no no don’t wait-

*CRACK*

-- Mark: Headbut! And a doozy at that!

*CRACK*

Z sacrifices his own IQ to try and break free from Raynor, and it seems to be working! He pulls his head back and throws it forward again-

-Raynor quickly wraps his left arm around it and hooks Z’s tights with his right! He pulls, and manages to pick Z up in a vertical suplex position!

-- Mark: No! Z, get out of there!

-- Riley: I never thought I’d say this and mean it, but yes! Acid Rayn!

But Raynor can’t get it, as Z is kicking violently, and he’s forced to drop the rookie back on his feet! Before Raynor can try to follow up, Z lands a boot to the gut and hooks an arm around Raynor’s head, Falling Armbreaker! All energy spent, Z flops back to the mat…

ONE!

-- Mark: Referee’s starting the ten count - man, I would hate to see it end this way, for both men’s sake.

TWO!

…

THREE!

…

FOUR!

Z rolls onto his stomach, and sends one flailing arm out on a mission to find the ropes. Raynor, meanwhile, manages to move a whole inch forward before going limp back to the mat.

FIVE!

…

SIX!

Z snares the bottom rope and sends his free hand up to the middle one. Raynor’s elbows are pulling him closer to the edge of the ring now…

SEVEN!

…

EIGHT!

Z makes a quick swipe and he grabs the top rope, and in one smooth motion he floats up to his feet. Raynor’s up to one knee now, but in bad shape as Z is up! Z is up!

-- Mark: Z is up!

Z grabs Raynor by the hair and yanks him up to his feet, turns him around-

*BAM*

Right hand from Raynor!

*BAM*

Z returns the favor!

-- Riley: Catfight!

-- Mark: Slugfest!

-- Crowd: Whoo!

*BAM*

*B…LOCK!*

Z intercepts an incoming punch and takes the opportunity to plant a few fast ones in Raynor’s face before he runs for the ropes! Raynor’s on dream street, stumbling back and forth, and therefore is leveled as Z hit’s a running Cross Body Block! The third “Z!” chant of the night strikes up as the One-Letter Wonder pops to his feet, a little woozy himself…

… then points to the turnbuckle!

-- Mark: I know what he’s thinking!

-- Riley: And it’s a dirty dirty thought! NO! Bad Z! Baaad Z!

Ignoring the aches and pains as best he can, Z steps through the ropes and slowly begins making his way up the turnbuckle…

-- Mark: Z’s going up top, for the Shotgun Moonsault- wait a minute!

Raynor’s gotten back to his feet, albeit very wobbly, and Z is still in the process of climbing! He slowly makes his way onto the top turnbuckle before looking up-

-to see Raynor right in front of him! Raynor grabs the little guy’s leg and yanks it out, and Z goes down down down into the-

“OOOOOOOOOOH!”

You know.

-- Riley: He took too much time showboating, LIKE ANOTHER MEMBER OF THE CARNIVAL WHO SHALL REMAIN NAMELESS, and got crotched for it!

-- Mark: Is Subtlety your middle name, by any chance?

Raynor takes a moment to collect his bearings, then heads back into the corner, where Z is in a terrible painful way. Raynor steps onto the bottom rope and throws Z’s arm over his own shoulder.

-- Mark: Superplex attempt coming up… no, wait, he’s-

Raynor pulls Z up, then steps off the bottom rope and-

-- Mark: … WOW…

-in a scary display of power, he carries Z, still upright in the suplex position, back into the center of the ring! Even the crowd gives mild props for that, until Raynor pushes Z out and drops him straight down, head and neck first, onto his knee. Z folds up and falls limp to the mat.

-- Mark: Raynor just carried him right off the top into the Acid Rayn! Here’s the cover!

ONE!

TWO!

T

H

R

E

!

*DING DING DING*

Raynor clambers to his feet and stares down at his former comrade, who’s out like a light. For the first time tonight, he doesn’t seem to hear or care about the tidal wave of booing aimed right at him…

“Here is your winner… Chriiiiisss Rayyyynoooorrr!”

-- Mark: Z put up a damn fine fight, but it looks like Raynor was too much for him.

-- Riley: You just don’t get it, do you Mark? Raynor IS too much for Z, and too much for most of the people in this fed - including YOU, Edwin!

-- Mark: This from a guy who said he sucked not two weeks ago?

-- Riley: Raynor’s just beginning to realize, you fool! He’s had this in him all along, but he’s been stuck playing second fiddle to the world champ for what, half a year now?

The referee raises Raynor’s arm, and now Raynor snaps to attention, looking expectantly out to the crowd… and turning sour at the reaction. He drops his head, muttering something to himself, before he climbs through the ropes and hops off the apron. He heads up the ramp, but stops as his eyes catch a sign in the front row.

“WHY, RAYNOR? WHY?”

He quickly steps over to her, shouting “It wasn’t me! It was HIM!“ but he only gets a slew of middle fingers and insults for a response. He scowls at the young woman holding the sign, then turns and stalks up the ramp…

-- Mark: It’s a damn shame, what he’s turned into.

-- Riley: A good wrestler?

-- Mark: … I’m ignoring that. Folks, stay with us, as we’ve got a lot more action to come. Frost and Xero will tangle one on one, Magnifico and Lerrin, and don’t forget the Intercontinental-Television Title Main Event, on later tonight. Stick around!

Z is just picking himself up off the mat, and we get a final shot of him looking up the ramp, dazed and confused, getting some sympathy cheers… and trying to piece together what happened…

August 31, 2002

The camera fades back in on SWF Storm. Funyon stands in the center of the ring, microphone poised near his lips as the hard chords of “Cities on Flame with Rock ‘n Roll” and resounding crowd boos permeate the background.

Funyon: “Now introducing from Reykjavik, Iceland at a weight of 296 pounds, he is a member of the Magnificent 7 and one half of the SWF tag team champions… FRRRRROOOOOOOOOOSSSSSSSSSSSSST!”

Frost steps out from behind the backstage curtain and strides to the top of the entrance ramp. A tightly rolled Santa Clara cigar (courtesy of Godrea from his last border run) is clenched loosely in his teeth with the smoke forming a dim haze in front of his face. He holds up a defiant fist to the crowd and then marches down the ramp as they double their jeers.

Stevens: “I’m pretty sure there is no smoking in this auditorium.”

Riley: “YOU tell him that!”

Frost strides around the outside of the ring and takes a spare mic from the timekeeper’s table. He steps up to the apron and then swings his tree trunk legs over the top rope to enter the ring. Funyon retreats to a far corner as Frost takes his place in center ring. He grinds the cigar out on the side of the mic and then wings it with disdain into the crowd. He eyes the noisy audience for a second as the half smoked cigar comes flying back at him and skips harmlessly across the mat.

Frost: “Apocalypse was a failure!”

Frost pauses as the fans twitter confused.

Stevens: “What is he talking about? He and TNT retained the belts, albeit in a very underhanded fashion.”

Riley: “Well, Xero and Williams did get SOME offense in.”

Frost: “I don’t mean for me, of course, but for Ash Ketchum.”

The fans pop at the mention of the beloved face.

Frost: “Plain and simple, I took Tom Flesher out before the match for you. I split his head open with the same bolt cutter I sliced yours open with. I left him laying bloody and unconscious next to a dumpster and you STILL couldn’t defeat him!”

Riley: “Man’s got a point.”

Mark shushes Riley as Frost continues.

Frost: “You see, I don’t have a problem with Tom Flesher and I know he doesn’t have a problem with me.”

Frost shoots the camera a rare cocky grin.

Frost: “I have a problem with you Ash! You’re a kid trying to play games in a man’s sport. You want to be a man? I gave you the chance with Flesher and I gave you that chance, because I was going to make you into even more of a man by TAKING that US Title from you. I wanted you to win it, so I could have the pleasure of obliterating you for it, but now…”

Frost’s diatribe is cut off with the light sound of tickling piano ivories and a roar rises like a wave from the crowd. A spinning Pokemon ball appears on the SmarkTron as one charismatic grappler steps out to the top of the entrance stage, mic in hand.

Riley: “IT’S ASH KETCHUM! HE’S NOT SUPPOSED TO BE OUT HERE! HE’S NOT EVEN SUPPOSED TO BE IN THE BUILDING TONIGHT! SECURITY!”

Ash waits for the fervent fan noise to die down before speaking. He runs a hand through his hair and then points a finger up at the ring.

Ash: “First: my girlfriend is pregnant, so I think that speaks to how much of a man I am right there.”

The fans laugh and scream. Frost looks out at them with daggers in his eyes and bellows for them to shut up.

Ash: “Second: Tom Flesher is a hell of wrestler, I don’t take anything away from him. However, maybe the problem wasn’t me, but rather that your big Icelandic muscles couldn’t get the job done you sat out to do.”

Stevens: “Man’s got a point.”

Riley shushes him down as Frost’s face flushes red with anger in the ring.

Ash: “Third: If I did win the US Title, do you think you could really take it away from me that easily.”

Frost: “I DESTROYED you with both hands tied behind my back, logic would lead that I would KILL you with the use of my hands.”

Ash: “I may have skipped watching that Storm on tape for the Pokemon movie again, but it seems to me I remember you having just a little help in that match, or doesn’t Taylor Thompson ring a bell for you?”

Frost: “I beat you with my fists. I beat you with my mind in having a backup plan. The point is, that I DESTROY you in every way, shape and form.”

Ash: “Well, I’m still breathing and I’m game for a rematch.”

The nonchalant challenge hangs in the air for a moment, before the crowd cheers on in agreement.

Ash: “And since I owe Thompson a little payback too, let’s say if I beat you, although you know that won’t happen (sarcasm dripping in his voice), I get a tag title shot down the road with any partner of my choice. Or are you not MAN enough to go for that?”

The crowd racket ebbs and flows as Frost ponders the challenge and then curls his lip in a menacing snarl.

Frost: “Since you winning that title shot is a nonexistent prospect, I’ll let you have your pipedream, until I wrench it away from you this Monday on Smarkdown.”

Ash backs up toward the backstage curtain and shoots another finger out at Frost as his music comes back up on the speakers.

Ash: “Tubular, Frost. See, I know I have the Poke balls to take it. Do you?”

Stevens: “And just like that we have one match already set for this coming Monday! Frost vs. Ash, a tag title shot on the line!”

Riley: “Not to mention pride and bragging rights. Although as much I think Frost would like to put Ash away this coming Smarkdown, much like bad Japanese anime, he’s just going to keep popping up to nauseate me.”

Ash’s music fades and is abruptly replaced by…

August 31, 2002

“OBEY YOUR MASTER!”

“Master of Puppets” haunts the darkened arena as red sparks of pyro explode from the sides of the stage. The lights flicker back up just as suddenly as they went down to reveal Xero already walking briskly down the ramp.

Funyon: “Now entering the arena from Port Colborne, Ontario Canada at a weight of 199 pounds. The self-proclaimed King of the DDT… XEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

Stevens: “Frost might already have himself a match setup with Ash for this coming Smarkdown, but he needs to focus on the task at hand in earning a win over Xero.”

Riley: “Even someone as lame brained as you, Mark, could muster the focus to take care of that. Xero got tossed and beat around by the tag champs on Apocalypse like a Japanese hooker at Silent’s house. I don’t see Xero being much of a threat without Danny to carry him.”

Xero hops straight up to the apron and then grabs the top rope to slingshot himself up and over to inside the ring. The crowd pops very lightly for Xero as he paces back and forth, hardly able to contain himself until the bell rings.

Stevens: “Xero and Danny were a surprisingly fast rising team here in the SWF with great chemistry and mat skills. Although Williams did attack Xero in the locker room after their match, that might have been in the heat of anger at losing and we have no solid word that their partnership has been dissolved.”

Frost slaps his biceps with either hand and the two men jaw at each other while referee Eddy Long half heartedly pats both of them down and goes over general pre-match instructions.

Riley: “Deathwish is part of the Magnificent 7, he doesn’t need any other partners.”

Stevens: “With partners like that, he doesn’t need any other enemies either.”

***DING DING DING***

Stevens: “And we’re underway with both men circling each other looking for an opening.”

Riley: “Certainly no love loss here and Frost just wants to sweep Xero under the rug so he can turn his attention to more important matters. Like how do they cram all that graham?”

Frost lunges forward for an elbow and collar tie up, but Xero jutes to his right and clamps down on Frost’s arm.

Stevens: “Arm drag takedown as Xero is already using his speed and agility to counteract Frost’s brute strength.”

Frost quickly spins back up to his feet, but not before Xero does and he uses his leverage to once again force Frost to the mat with an arm drag takedown. Frost musters up a burst of speed to rocket to his feet, but still not enough to beat Xero who flips him down for a third time as the fans start to get into the match a little more.

Stevens: “Full arm drag and twist by Xero and he keeps Frost planted on the canvas with a wristlock.”

Riley: “Not smart strategy Xero, you’re going to have to keep moving to have any hope of sneaking out the fluke victory here. Frost powers up.”

Frost stands up and takes Xero’s wrist with his free and whips him into the ropes and out of the wristlock. Frost bends down for a backdrop, but Xero sees it a mile away and rolls through his momentum to hit a jumping scissors kick to the back of Frost’s neck. Frost plummets to the mat and the crowd cheers.

Stevens: “And Frost is going to have to keep Xero in one place and wear him down to stall his high octane offense.”

Riley: “Mosquitoes might be high octane, but when they bite you, you hardly feel anything. Xero is a gnat.”

Xero bars Frost’s arm and leans across his back in a Fujiawara armbar. He cranks back stiffly on the hold, but Frost is still too fresh and effortlessly stands up with Xero dangling off his back, desperately trying to maintain the hold.

Riley: “We saw this scenario at Apocalypse with Frost falling back to slam Xero out of the hold. Time to squash that gnat.”

Frost makes to fall back, but Xero lets loose of the wrist and drops to the canvas in a crouch. As Frost falls, Xero shoots an arm up between his legs and schoolboys him over.

ONE

TWO

Xero can’t hold the bulk and Frost flips out of the move back to his feet.

Stevens: “Apparently Xero learned a little bit from that match to counter here. Wouldn’t you say, Bobby?”

Riley: “Looks to me like Xero was on the edge of passing out from fear and just slid to the canvas.”

Xero springs to his feet and fires out a superkick. Frost utilizes his sharp reflexes to dodge to his right and grips Xero’s ankle with his right hand. He slings Xero down and drops an elbow to the side of his knee.

Riley: “You want to talk about who’s the smarter wrestler, there you go. Take away his mobility and he’s useless as Z on Jeopardy.”

Stevens: “Or you at a brothel.”

Frost stands up while keeping hold of the ankle and falls to the mat in snapping Xero’s leg backwards. He hollers in agony and rolls to his side and holds his knee.

Stevens: “Frost lays in the kicks to Xero’s side as he slows the pace down.”

Riley: “Another smart tactic.”

Xero rolls to avoid the boots and slides to the floor. Frost leans over the ropes to snatch Xero by his bald dome and yank him back in, but he grabs the careless Frost by the ankles and jerks him over to crash down on his back.

Stevens: “Nice to see Frost reeling that genius in, incase he needs it later on.”

Riley: “He tripped over a bulge in the shoddy canvas. I told Stubby not to buy Guatemalan, but he says he’s gotten good stuff from them in the past.”

Xero vaults up to the apron and takes the top rope with both hands while skipping up to the bottom rope. He springboards himself up and over the strands with a back flip and smacks Frost in the chest with a legdrop. He scurries on top for the cover.

ONE

TWO

Stevens: “No! Easy kick out and both men take their feet.”

Frost loops his arm out for a standing clothesline, that Xero ducks under. He twists behind the grappler to cinch a rear waistlock, but Frost makes a standing switch before he locks it in tight and places his arms over Xero’s neck in a Cobra Clutch while stepping in front of his right leg. Frost slams Xero face first to the mat and the fans grumble with discontent.

Stevens: “Slick counter into the Icelandic leg sweep there by Frost. Xero might have been going for a German suplex, but he can’t get cocky and try power moves on a man who redefines the very term.”

Riley: “It looks like we’re going to take a tour of Iceland’s greatest wrestling moves as Frost segues into the vicious Icelandic backbreaker.”

Stevens: “This should be a short tour.”

Frost drags Xero up by the back of his head and locks his meaty forearm around his throat. Frost leans forward to pull Xero off the canvas and he hangs strangling for air above the ground. He kicks at Frost’s legs and flails weak arms onto his back without affect. Frost scoots around the ring and tightens his pressure with each step. A small buzz trickles through the fairly quiet audience and all heads turn toward the entranceway.

Stevens: “IT’S DANNY WILLIAMS! Frost’s stable mate and Xero’s tag team partner. What’s he doing out here!?”

Riley: “More importantly whose side will he be on? I’ll leave that as an exercise for the rubes, because I already know.”

Without any fan fair or frilly effects, Williams strides down the ramp and circles ringside in heading for the timekeeper’s table. Frost finally notices Danny and dumps Xero off his back to protest the man’s presence to Eddy Long. Long puts up his hands powerless to do anything and Frost steps over to the near ropes and shouts down at Williams. Deathwish looks up with narrowed eyes and angrily curses back. He puts his hand on a folding chair behind the timekeeper’s table and brings it out to face the ring. He has a seat and points a finger at Long and yells a warning to keep his eyes on the Iceman.

Stevens: “Williams looks to be out here only to provide support to his partner. I guess my observation from before of a heat of the moment mistake by Williams was accurate and he’s trying to make it up to Xero now.”

Riley: “I wish we were still on pay-per-view so I could clearly say what I think about this. Let me just sum it up with, Danny, you’re a dumbass.”

Xero pushes himself up on his hands and knees while sucking wind due to the breath taking hold. Frost turns back around before Xero can fully recover and he punts him in the ribs. Xero bounds into the air and then hits the mat to roll back out to the floor.

Stevens: “Xero is on the opposite side of the ring from Williams and I don’t even know if he’s seen him yet.”

Riley: “I hope he doesn’t. Why Danny would sacrifice the elite stable in the SWF today for a Chihuahua of a man who weighs a buck twenty soaking wet is beyond me.”

Stevens: “Soaking wet men shouldn’t be too far out of your expertise to comprehend there, Bobby.”

Frost wisely decides not to bend over the ropes to snag Xero this time and baseball slides out next to him on the floor. Still trying to collect himself, Xero darts away from Frost and turns the corner heading for Williams. He leans up from holding his sore throat to spy his partner sitting calmly at ringside. He pumps his fist and tells Xero to go get Frost. Xero eyes Williams hesitantly, but displays no clear emotions toward him.

Stevens: “Xero is definitely taken aback by Deathwish’s presence. The air between them might not be totally clear.”

Riley: “Settle the lover’s squabble later, here comes the home wrecker.”

Frost runs up behind the distracted Xero to nail him with a clothesline to the back of the head. Frost sends two stomps into the back of Xero’s head and Williams stands up to really pop the crowd. Frost points at him and bellows with nostrils flaring, but Danny stands his ground. Frost yanks Xero up by the back of his tights and bundles him back into the ring while keeping is eyes on Williams. He shouts out something unheard again and steps up to be chest to the chest with the man.

Stevens: “The fans are on the edge of their seats, wanting to see another showdown between this two grapplers.”

They each stand there for a second unmoving, until Frost backs up and rolls underneath the bottom rope to break Long’s count on him at nine. Danny retakes his seat.

Riley: “Williams is wussing out! Just sit back down and lay an egg there, you chicken.”

Frost glides back up to his feet and then drops a knee to the back of Xero’s neck. He puts his hands up as a shield and kicks his feet in agony. Frost turns him over and makes a lateral press for the cover.

ONE

TWO

Stevens: “Xero gets the shoulder up to break and it didn’t look like Frost was putting much into that pin attempt.”

Riley: “How do you go for an enthusiastic pin!? He’s just toying with Xero now.”

Frost rises up to his knees and pulls Xero up eye level with him. He thrusts out a forearm to his throat and Xero topples over with his legs pinned beneath him. Frost rises and stands on Xero’s knees. He pops up like an inflatable punching bag and the crowd audibly cringes.

Riley: “Nice balance.”

Stevens: “What a disgusting maneuver! He could completely wrench the cartilage in both knees by putting his whole 300-pound frame down on them.”

Frost steps off and brings Xero up by the sides of his head. He stumbles around on wobbly legs and Frost shakes him up more with a headbutt. Frost grabs his dazed opponent with a front facelock and twists him up and around to rest the back of his head on his shoulder. With a primal scream he smashes Xero down with a neckbreaker.

Stevens: “Frost continues the assault by alternating between the neck and legs of Xero to completely ground him.”

Riley: “He’s sending a message to Danny Williams. This is going to be HIM if he interferes. The Mag 7 does not suffer traitors lightly.”

Xero lays flat on the canvas as Frost lays casually back on top of him for the arrogant cover.

ONE!

TWO!

THR-

Stevens: “Kick out! Frost is taking Xero way to lightly here.”

Riley: “Has he given him a reason not too yet?”

Frost stands and leans over Xero. He wraps him up with a waistlock and dead lifts him off the canvas to slap stomach down on his right shoulder. Frost shuffles his feet in place a few steps to build up steam and charges for the far ring corner. The fans hold their collective breaths as Xero shoves off of Frost’s shoulder and give him an extra nudge to strike the turnbuckle chest first.

Stevens: “THERE YOU GO, BOBBY, AS XERO PUSHES OUT OF THE SNAKE EYES ATTEMPT!”

Riley: “I’VE BEEN SAYING HE SHOULDN’T UNDERSTIMATE THIS TWERP!”

Frost’s eyes roll back into his head as he ricochets out of the corner. Xero wraps an arm over Frost’s bent back form and bangs him down with an inverted DDT!

Stevens: “Xero with the inverted DDT on the bounce out! One of Frost’s new pet moves!”

Riley: “Let’s see him adopt the Early Winter.”

Xero lays a limp arm over Frost for the cover.

ONE!

TWO!

TH-

Stevens: “NO! Stunned but not out, Frost gets the shoulder up.”

Williams claps his hands at ringside and the camera swoops in to hear him say “C’mon boy, you’ve got him now.”

Riley: “It’s just like Williams to sit idly by while someone else does all the work.”

Stevens: “Hardly, as he has battled a lot of men and personal demons to get where he is today and a singles win here could put he and Xero right back in the title race.”

Xero’s chest heaves for air as he makes his feet while dragging Frost up by his closely cropped hair. He palms the back of his head like a basketball and drives Frost face first across his jutted out knee. Frost plops to the canvas and Xero slumps into the near ropes for a breather.

Riley: “What with all of those great tag teams we have here in the SWF. Like….TNT and Frost….ur…uh…Memphis Eel and Cutthroat….oh….well…they don’t count… hmm…”

Stevens: “Facebreaker by Xero and he has to find some reserve gas in the tank to finish this one off. After that Bomb Shelter match, though, I doubt he’s fully recovered.”

Frost rolls over on his back and Xero drops down to the mat next to him. He snakes his legs around Frost’s neck and squeezes firm with the man’s head between his thighs.

Stevens: “Head scissors choke by Xero as he repays Frost for strangling him earlier.”

Riley: “Xero’s weak, he couldn’t crush walnuts with those thighs.”

Stevens: “I’m really not going to think about that statement.”

Danny stands up and walks over to pound the apron in support of his partner. The fans stomp along as Xero squishes Frost’s throat. The big man puts his arms under Xero’s back and lifts him slightly off the mat as he works his legs underneath him. Frost stands straight up with Xero still hooked around his neck as the crowd is quickly shut up. Frost stumbles forward a few steps and takes a nosedive that smashes Xero’s face into the top turnbuckle!

Stevens: “FACE FIRST ELECTRIC CHAIR DROP INTO THE TURNBUCKLE! BOTH MEN ARE OUT OF IT!”

Riley: “LONG GOT HIT IN THE CHAOS! HE’S OUT TOO!”

The ref lies still faces down as both men slowly work themselves up. Xero pulls himself up with both hands on the top rope and hangs his head down. Frost gains his feet and Xero looks to shock him with a superkick, but he is just far enough away for the blow to come up short. Frost rushes in with the Hell Freezes Over, but he’s still groggy and Xero is able to duck under while clasping Frost’s shoulder and jumps up to lock the man’s other arm with his legs.

Stevens: “FIREMAN’S CARRY TAKEDOWN! BUT THERE’S NO REF TO COUNT THE PIN!”

Frost shakes out and both men roll to their feet. Frost clumsily lunges to grab Xero, but he deftly grabs a facelock and cracks Frost down with a DDT.

Stevens: “THE PURGATORY! Still no referee, though. Xero’s heading for the near corner!”

Riley: “Where’s TNT when you need that bastard!”

Xero climbs the ropes as the crowd pops, anticipating the next move. Xero stands with his arms up over his head, tosses his head back, flexes his knees and vaults into the air. He flies flipping and twisting through the air in a strange ballet with flashbulbs of impressed fans sparking off. He hits Frost with pinpoint precision and lays on top for the pin.

Stevens: “ABSOLUTE XERO! HE’S UNAWARE THAT LONG IS STILL OUT!”

Riley: “WILLIAMS IS COMING IN THE RING! WHAT’S HE HOLDING?”

Deathwish slips under the bottom rope and pops to his feet with Frost’s tag title belt in his mitts. He dives down to cream Xero in the back of the head with the strap. It makes a wet thud as Xero’s body pops up and his eyes go blank. The fans feverishly boo as Danny pushes Xero on his back and drags Frost on top of him. He stops to pull Long over and gives him a few light slaps in the face before spiriting out of the ring.

Stevens: “WILLIAMS TURNED ON XERO! NO, THIS ISN’T RIGHT!”

Riley: “OH, IT’S SO RIGHT IT HAS TO BE WRONG!”

Long feebly counts.

ONE!

TWO!

THREE!

DING DING DING

The bell sounds as Danny reaches in to take Frost by the arm and pulls him to the floor. He hands the man his belt and Frost leans up against the guardrail, still trying to recover.

Funyon: “Here is your winner, by pinfall. FRRRRRRROOOOOOOOOSSSSSSSST!”

Riley: “It was all a ruse! Williams coming out here, rooting for Xero, arguing with Frost. It was all to trick the dumb jerk.”

Stevens: “I guess this make the once promising team’s split official. Deathwish played everyone for a sap, although the groundwork for turning on Xero was certainly layed.”

Riley: “Didn’t fool me and it didn’t fool Frost who probably set this all up. We better get Stephen Hawking a battle suit, because he is the only person smart enough to take Frost out.”

The two Mag 7 members make their way to the ramp while shouting at the rabid crowd. Xero slips to the floor, while holding the back of his head and rips the microphone out of Funyon’s hand.

Xero: “WHERE YOU GOING! YOUR JOB’S NOT DONE! I’M STILL STANDING, I’M STILL BREATHING!”

The crowd pops for Xero as Williams and Frost continue to back up the ramp. Xero marches around the ring and hangs onto the post facing the ramp, staring at his adversaries.

Xero: “You want to play me for a fool, Deathwish! You think you’re smarter than me Frost! You think your buddy TNT is so big and bad! Let’s say you make it easier on all of us and let me have your asses in a six man tag right here next week!”

The fans explode in approval of the idea. Danny and Frost shake their heads and laugh.

Xero: “If Ash wants in on it, that’s cool with me. If I have to go it alone, I don’t care. Why don’t you pussies think about it and let me know. I won’t be hard to find…I’ll…be right…BEHIND…YOU!”

The fans roar as “Master of Puppets” strikes up on the speakers. Frost and Danny disappear behind the backstage curtain.

Stevens: “Xero makes an open challenge to the Mag 7 for a six man tag on the next Storm!”

Riley: “Now who has the deathwish?”

The camera fades as Xero makes his way up the ramp, playing to the popping fans.

August 31, 2002

Fade in on an empty hall in the back. The view sits for a few moments, no motion, no action. Finally, after another moment...

Tom Flesher leans out from behind one of the corners. Looking very anxious, he turns his head back and forth a few times, just to make sure the coast is clear. Under his breath, he mutters, "Damn deKindes."

Hugging the wall, Flesher sidles out and starts moving down the hall. He looks arond, treading gently to avoid making any sound. At every corner, he stops and looks around, hoping to avoid drawing any attention to himself and especially to avoid drawing the wrath of one Tod deKindes.

"Fuck," he whispers to himself. "I knew this kid was gonna be trouble." He continues stepping carefully and says, "Now he's gonna want a fucking match. He's gonna try to take the belt away." He sighs. "He wants to break up my belt girls!"

As Flesher rounds another corner, he stops in his tracks. The camera shows a giant smile spreading across his face, and then swings around to show the object bringing him such great joy:

A mop bucket, and a "Slippery When Wet" sign.

Flesher chuckles to himself, and we fade.

August 31, 2002

Storm returns to Norfolk, Virginia.

Stevens: "Back to the show! Coming up of course, we have Renegade and Longdogger Pete, both members of X-Force 9, who suffered hard fought defeats at Apocalypse, and no doubt, they will be looking to restore some lost pride when they take on none other than Jay Dawg-"

Riley: "The career killer!"

Stevens: "...Yes, and teaming with him will be Sacred, who beat the holy hell out of Renegade to secure the victory at Apocalypse. Renegade has his arm still heavily strapped, as does Sacred with his ribs, and lord knows they'll be out to get each other again!"

Riley: "The experience factor will surely play a roll in this. Jay Dawg and Sacred, two of the longest serving members in the IGNWF and SWF, tag team champions in the past, must come in with an advantage. They know each other so, so well, and both would do anything to win."

Stevens: "Well, enough about this, let's take a look back at the events at Apocalypse, involving Edwin MacPhisto and-"

The house lights go out completely, leaving the arena bathed in darkness. On the giant SmarkTron, gruesome images of way play, coupled with the chaotic pictures from riots from all over the world. This light up the eyes of the fans in the arena, until the screen turns black... and then suddenly everything springs to life, as we hear a pre-recorded voice boom over the PA...

"THIS

IS

OUR

HOUSE!!!"

Riley: "I don't think Creative Control and in the sort mood to sit back and wait, they want to get this started right now!"

Stevens: "I had a great video planned too..."

"Du hast" by Rammstein begins to play, and the heavy guitar and growling lyrics blare through the arena, as Jay Dawg walks out first, his head down, chain wrapped around his neck and a staff in his hands. The hardcore title draped over his waist as he walks until he reaches centre stage. Shortly after, Sacred makes his appearance, steel chair in hand, walking straight down to the ramp, as JD raises his head, a smile on his face. Sacred just stares at the ring as Jay Dawg grins at the crowd, watching them as they shout things I dare not repeat without having my mouth washed out with soap. JD just shakes his head as he reaches the ring, sliding in after Sacred, and the two Creative Control men get to their feet, Sacred just looks back down at his chair, eyes wide, while Jay Dawg does his best HVille Thugg impression, antagonizing the fans to no end.

Funyon shouts from ringside...

"The following match is a tag team matchup! And it is scheduled for one fall... in the ring first, at a combined weight of four hundred and eighty one pounds... they represent... no, *are* Creative Control... JAY DAWG and SACRED!"

Stevens: "It's a wonder they don't grow beards and wear tuxedos to the ring..."

Riley: "Shhhh, Stevens! Let us never bring up the Harris Boys in conversation again. Heaven forbid!"

Sacred looks at Jay Dawg, and the Dawgster glares back, each one nodding to each other, before JD politely takes the chair from Sacred's hands and places it in one corner. JD drops his staff and chain. They both look back to the entranceway, as "Operate Annihilate" by Powerman 5000 kicks up to a tremendous ovation from the fans. Almost immediately, LDP and Renegade run out from behind the curtain and down the ramp! The two slide into the ring, as Renegade makes a bee-line for Sacred, giving him a sharp kick to the ribs, while Jay Dee doesn't even let LDP get to his feet, stomping him down on the canvas!

Stevens: "And X-Force Nine waste no time, catching the former tag team champions by surprise!"

Riley: "Bah, look at that, Renegade goes straight for Sacred's ribs, you wouldn't see Sacred take advantage of someone else's injury..."

Stevens: "... WHAT!?"

Renegade pushes Sacred back against the turnbuckles as the, "Ding, Ding, Ding!" of the ring bell is heard, signifying the start of the match! Jay Dawg brings Longdogger to his feet and swings with a right hand, but LDP ducks and grabs his arm, pulling him closer and kneeing him in the stomach! LDP grabs Jay Dawg and he and Renegade nod to each other. They both whip their opponents across the ring, Sacred and Dawg on a collision course! But the former tag champs are alert, and manage to avoid each other. They both charge at full speed and leap into the air, pounding their opponents into the turnbuckles with flying splashes! Jay Dawg grabs LDP by the head and whirls him around, throwing him over the top rope and out to the floor. He turns back to Sacred, who grabs Renegade and pulls him out the corner. Jay Dawg saunters over, ready to pound the crap out of Renegade, but the ref steps in and tells him to get to his corner!

Riley: "Damn meddling ref! Fire him Jay Dawg! Just like Kivell!"

Stevens: "The ref is just keeping order, once to many times have we seen double teaming by Creative Control, it's despicable!"

Jay Dawg closes his eyes and heads to his corner, growling at the ref. Meanwhile, Sacred lifts Renegade up into the air with a suplex, but Renegade manages fight out of it, and land back on his feet. In one quick motion, he uses his strength advantage to lift Sacred up with a suplex of his own! But Sacred slips out the back and rolls him up in a sit out roll up!

One…

But Renegade quickly pushes out, as LDP steps up onto the apron, holding a sore head. Sacred and Rene both get to their feet, as Gade tries some right hands, but they don't come off very well due to his arm, and Sacred fights back with some devastating forearms. Sacred whips Gade across the ring and into the ropes, and as the X-Force Niner returns, he ducks his head. Renegade telegraphs it, and grabs Sacred by the head, twirling him around and hitting a swinging neckbreaker!

Riley: "Nice move, giving him enough time to... tag LDP into the match!"

The Longdoggah enters the ring after the tag, and looks down at Sacred, as if he were Perfect Bo, if that's possible. LDP mercilessly stomps on Sacred, down right on his ribcage. LDP finally brings Sacred to his feet, hitting a few right hands for good measure. Longdogger grabs him by the hand and whips him deep into enemy territory where Renegade is waiting, but Sacred acts quickly, elbowing Renegade in the face and knocking him off the apron! Sacred charges out of the corner, nothing else on his mind other than pummelling someone, but LDP ducks his head and sends Sacred sailing into the air and down to the canvas with a back body drop! But Sacred lands right into his corner, and manages to tag in the Dawgster!

Riley: "Watch out LDP, he might break your neck if your not careful!"

Stevens: "Oh please! Some great tag team action to start, very even contest so far, but Creative Control know all the tricks of this biz, so X-Force Nine will have to keep a close eye on them..."

Dawg rushes across the ring and hits a hard-hitting lariat, sending LDP packing. LDP whirls back onto his feet and ducks another lariat. Longdogger quickly turns around and grabs Dawg around the waist for a German Suplex, but Dawg rolls under LDP, grabbing his legs for a pin, but keeps going, grabbing LDP's leg and putting on a leg lock! Renegade, the fiery bumpee enters the ring, looking to stop it, but the ref will have none of it and gets in his way, telling him to go back. Sacred enters the ring unnoticed, and runs across the canvas, leaping into the air and coming down with an elbow drop on Longdogger's face! He gets to his feet and hits another quick fire one, before retreating back to his corner as Renegade gets back into his own corner, letting the ref get back to his duties.

Stevens: "That's why they became the champs, blatant cheating!"

Dawg has the hold locked on, twisting LDP's leg as much as he can, as LDP grimaces and tries to fight through the pain. The ref comes over to check on him, but LDP makes a comeback, using his free leg to kick Dawg right in the face, once, twice! Dawg lets go, and both men climb onto their feet. Jay Dawg ducks a wild punch from Longdogger, wraps his arms around LDP and suplexes him over his head with a Belly to Belly!

Riley: "LDP's heavier than Dawg, but Jay is just so proficient in his use of the Suplex, it's amazing to watch!"

Stevens: "Renegade and Sacred have not stopped staring at each other for the past 2 minutes! All hell will break loose when they finally go one on one again!"

Dawg crawls across the canvas and hooks his opponent by the leg...

One…

Tw…

But LDP manages to kick out at one and a half. JD brings LDP up to his feet, and brings him over to CC's corner, as JD tags in Sacred, and the Aussie gets a round of boos as he enters the ring. Dawg expose LDP's ribs, and Sacred obliges happily, kicking LDP once, twice, doubling him over. Sacred whips the X-Force Niner across the ring and into a neutral corner. Sacred ducks his head and charges at full speed, ramming his shoulder into LDP's midsection! Sacred climbs onto the second tier, overlooking LDP, hitting him in the forehead with a forearm, followed by some more, dazing Pete. Renegade wastes no time getting at Sacred running across the ring apron and hitting Sacred in the ankle, making him fall backwards to the mat! The ref shoots an icy glare at Renegade, warning him with his mannerisms, as LDP regains his senses. Sacred gets back to his feet, and stares at Renegade, taking his attention away from Longdogger, who grabs Sacred from behind, around the waist and lifts him into the air, slamming him down onto his back and neck with a thunderous German Suplex! LDP holds onto Sacred with a bridge for the pin.

One…

Two…

But the Aussie manages to roll out, much to the crowds displeasure, noted with a sigh. Jay Dawg shouts some words of encouragement to his partner as he gets back onto his feet, met with some stiff right hands from LDP. LDP swings for a final right hand, but it’s blocked by Sacred, the Aussie fires back hard with a blistering knife-edge chop. Pete’s eyes bulge out as he grabs his chest. Sacred shoots out another chop, but Pete sidesteps, grabbing the arm. He hangs onto the wrist and wrenches it hard, then pulls Sacred into a front facelock. Pete underhooks the other arm and the crowd goes insane.

Stevens: “Long Dogger Clogger!”

But Pete is interrupted early by an entering Jay Dawg, JD swings out with a clothesline, and Pete breaks the hold in time to duck the blow. He faces JD as the hardcore champ finally turns around, shaking his arm as he overshot the clothesline. Pete hits him with quick shot to the gut and pulls him into a underhooked facelock. Pete looks out to the audience, who roars out, but Sacred leaps up high, and Pete can’t quite duck as Sacred’s leg flies over JD and connects with Pete’s face with the Harlem sidekick. JD drops to his knees, and sweeps toward Pete Mortal Kombat style, kicking out his injured leg. Pete howls in pain, as he grabs at the leg that Bo hammered on only six days ago.

Stevens: “Three of these men came out last Pay Per View with drastic injuries! You know they haven’t fully recovered!”

Riley: “Well they weren’t drastic! I agree, solid shots will take them out good!”

The cheap shot to LDP’s leg is enough to bring Renegade into the ring, as he flattens JD with a stiff lariat. JD hits the mat hard and begins to roll away as Renegade shakes off his arm. He follows JD as the ref tries to intervene, but the Niner isn’t up for it. JD stands up by the ropes and Renegade rushes right for him, thrusting out his arm and clotheslining JD over the top rope, and goes over with him!

Stevens: “The ref has lost control of this battle!”

In the ring, Sacred picks up LDP’s sore leg and drops an elbow onto it. Sacred stands back up and holds the leg up high, and thrusts his knee right into it! “ARRGH!!” is all LDP can get out as Sacred drives his knee into the thigh area of LDP.

Stevens: “Sacred is looking to charlie horse, taking out all the energy from the leg.”

Riley: “A smart strategy as LDP gets a lot of his power from there! And last week, Bo turned it into absolute jello!”

On the outside, Renegade is over top of JD, and hits him hard with a right hand. JD lets his head knock to the side, but snaps it back. Renegade’s eyes light up in rage, as he pops the mini blade out in his fist, and swings down hard. JD barely moves his head out of the way, and the blade is stuck into the mat. Not hesitating for a moment, JD hooks onto the arm and twists it into the mat. He slides his body out from underneath and arm wringers Renegade’s arm into the mat.

Stevens: “Jay Dawg saw that blade coming and dodged it at all costs!”

Riley: “If you remember almost a month ago! JD and Renegade had a no DQ match, and Renegade used that blade! JD remembered the pain no doubt!”

JD pulls Renegade up off the mat and wrenches the arm, and drives his shoulder into it. JD takes a step back, then thrusts his shoulder back into Renegade’s arm…

In the ring, Sacred throws LDP off the ropes, and the XF9 leader limps hard. Sacred dives at LDP with a flying forearm, but the Doggah ducks with ease…

Outside, JD finishes his final shoulder thrust, and throws Renegade toward the ringpole. SMACK!! Shoulder first and the former WCW TV champion goes down hard. He desperately clutches his shoulder as JD looks on from the side, smiling at what he just did…

Back in the ring, LDP ducks another flying forearm and goes off the ropes. He rebounds off the cables and throws his leg up, smoking Sacred with a big fucking boot, and the crack resonates around the arena. LDP… instantly regrets his move choice… Sacred leaves the mat and lands hard on his back… but LDP collapses, gripping his knee and notices JD on the outside, alone. That moment, it becomes painfully aware to LDP the predicament he is in.

Riley: “Renegade is out! Sacred is out! LDP is out! Jay Dawg is the only done standing!”

Stevens: “But he can’t do anything until Sacred tags him in!”

Conscious of the situation, JD hops onto the ring apron, and holds his arm out for Sacred to tag… LDP can only wish that he could do the same. Sacred begins to stir, rubbing his now very tender jaw and rolls over. He begins to crawl toward JD and the crowd boos every second of it. JD stands on the ring apron and instantly begins to mimic a desperate babyface, pleading for the tag, and that gets an even louder response… all negative of course. Sacred finally reaches over; smacking the hand to an enormous set of boos. JD calmly steps through the ropes and raises his chin up high, letting his glowing smile be seen by the thousands of Norfolk fans.

Stevens: “This is not good! A fresh Jay Dawg is about to go up against a hurting LDP!”

LDP is on his hands and knees and JD stands over top of him. He looks down, his mischievous grin puts a sour taste in everyone’s mouths. He grabs onto the scalp of LDP, using the grip to pull him up and hits him with a sharp left-hand jab. JD hits another jab and LDP falls toward the corner. JD swings with a haymaker right, and the shot knocks him into the turnbuckles. JD steps onto the second rope and pops LDP with a right hand. The crowd starts booing, not counting, so JD does it for them.

“One!”

“Two!”

“Three!”

“Four!”

“Five!”

“Shit!” LDP pulls him off the turnbuckles and lets JD drop crotch first over his knee! LDP once again regrets his move of choice, and grabs at his knee. JD cradles his groin in pain and rolls backward, letting him get to his feet. Letting the throbbing pain in his genitals wear off, JD walks back to LDP and pulls him to his feet. He cradles the leg and then drapes his arm over LDP’s chest. JD muscles LDP over his head, and let’s the Long Dogger crash into the mat with a T-Bone suplex. JD rolls backward and makes the cover, hooking the leg of LDP for the cover.

ONE…

TWO…

TH…LDP gets his shoulder up. JD shakes his head, smiling and pulls on the sore leg of LDP, latching his leg around it and falls to the mat with a leg lace. His one leg scissorlocked in between Jay Dawg’s legs, LDP screams in pain, slapping his hands off the mat, trying to beat away the pain. JD continues to torque, and sick popping sounds can be heard from the kneecap cartilage of LDP.

Stevens: “Oh good god! Jay Dawg has a relentless hold on LDP!”

Riley: “You should know how well Jay Dawg applies those leg submissions, Mark… heh heh.”

JD shakes his head as he yanks on the leg, pulling hard as the hold tightens. JD suddenly sits up, loosening the hold, but spins around, standing up with a spinning toehold. JD leans over top of the veteran, smiling as he rolls forward, lifting LDP in the air and slamming him down into the mat with a whiplash powerbomb. JD stands up, although the spinning toehold is still applied. “Count!” he shouts to the ref and the zebra obliges.

ONE…

TWO…

THR…LDP gets a shoulder up with inches to spare. JD shrugs, pivots around, and rolls forward with a second whiplash powerbomb! The tumbling fall and smack of 250 plus pounds hitting the mat can be heard around the arena, despite their cheers for LDP to fight back. JD stands back up, keeping the drop toehold on and demands the ref to count again.

ONE…

TWO…

THRE…LDP gets his shoulder up once more, as the ref’s hand is getting closer to the mat. JD leans down, starting to roll, but is suddenly facelocked by LDP, with a turn to the side, JD is tightly rolled up with a small package… JD struggles as LDP holds tightly.

ONE…

JD kicks his feet hard.

TWO…

Fans in the arena all pray.

THREE… NO!! Jay Dawg finally explodes out of the pinning predicament. Sacred brushes the weaponry away from their corner, and picks up the staff. He steps near the ropes, looking on from the ground, eyes on LDP.

Stevens: “Whatever is going on, this can’t be good!”

LDP hops to his feet, standing on his good leg to see JD make it to his feet at a faster pace. JD fires with a punch, but it’s blocked, and LDP retaliates with a right hand! JD fires again, but a hopping LDP blocks once more and returns with a stiff right hand that knocks JD back a few steps. The hardcore champion walks forward, and with all the energy in his one leg, Pete leaps into the air and on top of JD, taking him to the mat with a Lou Thesz Press. The crowd is going insane as they cheer for the Miami native, who rolls backward to his feet, and limps to the ropes. CRACK!! LDP clutches his leg and falls to the mat as Sacred lets the staff drop down. The Aussie looks in the ring as the ref checks on JD, completely unaware of what just happened.

Stevens: “That dirty rotten bastard Sacred just hit LDP in the leg with that staff! Why are those weapons even allowed at ringside!?”

Riley: “Because the referee wants to keep his job?”

JD sits up and allows his eyelids to open once more for this match. He looks over to LDP, who is clutching his leg and walks toward him. JD grabs the leg, and without a second thought, scissorlocks the leg and falls back, successfully applying the Dawg Trap. The fans continue to cheer Pete on as he is placed in the extremely painful crucifix kneebar.

On the outside, Renegade has made it to his corner, letting himself lie on the ring apron, he silently cheers for his buddy.

LDP lifts his arm and slaps it into the mat. The fans begin to let their heads hang in shame, while empathizing with the XF9 leader, they wish the contest can go on.

LDP slaps the mat again…

Riley: “One more time!”

LDP raises his hand, and out of the corner of his eye, he spots his tag team partner, cheering him on…

The arm keeps falling…

Falling…

…

Sacred begins to smile.

JD lets the sweat fall off his head.

…

AND LDP RAISES HIS ARM TO AN ENORMOUSLY POPULAR OVASION!!!

JD can’t believe it, and begins to yank harder on the hold. LDP shakes his head and raises his other arm, reaching out, and clasps onto the bottom rope! Renegade is seen thanking the heavens as JD is forced to break the hold. JD releases the hold with muchos anger, and instantly stomps on the leg of LDP. He grabs onto the leg and pulls it into the body into the center of the ring.

Stevens: “Jay Dawg is angry that LDP never tapped out, and is looking to finish him off! Renegade desperately wants into this battle though!”

JD splits the leg away from the rest of the body, letting it rest there as he bounces off the ropes. He leaps into the air, letting his knee guide the way down, and LDP moves the leg just in time! JD rubs his knee as LDP gets to his feet. JD begins to stand and in pulled into an underhooked facelock. LDP lifts JD high up into the air and smashes him face first into the mat with the Long Dogger Clogger! LDP lies on his back, breathing heavily as JD lies facefirst in the mat. The crowd cheers heavily as the antsy Renegade can be seen wanting into the battle, reaching over the ropes, hoping for LDP to make the tag.

Stevens: “Now is the perfect opportunity to let Renegade in! Let’s go Pete!”

Pete turns himself to JD and rolls the slightly younger man over, draping his arm over him for the cover.

ONE…

Sacred enters the ring…

TWO…

Renegade enters the ring…

Sacred makes the dive…

THREE

NO!! Sacred drops an elbow right onto the head of LDP, breaking the count! Renegade leaps into the air as Sacred lies for the second after his elbow drop, and drops the leg over the heart of Sacred! The blow forces the Aussie to roll out of the way and the fans go nuts as it is all X-Force-Nine. LDP and Renegade are both at their feet and the audience goes insane. They look into each other’s eyes and LDP gives Gade a shove to the chest. WWE fans all go insane as the XF9 stick their thumbs to their throats, and slice through.

Stevens: “It is all over for the Creative Control!”

Renegade grabs Sacred, and kicks the Aussie in the gut. He applies a ¾ nelson facelock, but Sacred grabs his arm, and wrenches down hard! Renegade grabs at his shoulder as Sacred spins him around, but Renegade fires hard with an ultra stiff right hand, right into the Aussie’s jaw, knocking Sacred into dreamland.

LDP grabs JD and Irish whips him off the ropes.

Renegade proceeds to run off the opposite ropes. He ricochets off the ropes and dives full force at Sacred with a spear to end all spears! CRACK!! His shoulder goes right into Sacred’s mid-section, knocking the Aussie through the middle and top ropes! Renegade rolls away, suddenly groping his shoulder in a state of deprived pain.

Riley: “That numbnut just gored Sacred with his dead shoulder!”

JD runs right into LDP and the XF9 Bench Presses him above his head, to the delight of the crowd as they explode for the Musclehead Slam. Suddenly, a sign of pain falls into Long Dogger Pete’s eyes, as his grip on JD suddenly loosens, and he caves to the mat! JD lands safely on his feet and Pete grabs at his sore leg. Relent and Merciless, JD grabs the leg, and the thousands in attendance can see his bloodshot eyes. JD raises the leg of LDP and smashes it knee first into the mat. LDP yells in pain as he grips onto his wounded limb, and JD wastes no time, scissorlocking the leg once more, and falling back into the safety of the Dawg Trap.

Stevens: “Renegade, make the save! LDP is in the center of the ring! Sacred is outside!”

The XF9’s newest recruit is still gripping his shoulder as the thousands in attendance cheer for LDP to keep fighting and Renegade to make the save. Jay Dawg’s eyes remain open, as he sadistically pulls on the leg, hoping to hear that wonderful crack.

LDP smacks the mat once! He looks over to Renegade, who is crawling, but the pain in his shoulder is getting to him.

JD torques even harder this time and LDP holler in pain, letting his hand hit the mat a second time. He raises his arm up high, so it doesn’t hit and looks over to Renegade, who is crawling over… reaching his arm out… Renegade reaches farther… then suddenly drops to the mat, lifting his shoulder is too much trouble…

LDP has no choice and lets his arm drop a third time.

*DING* *DING* *DING*

Stevens: “And LDP is forced to tap out!”

Funyon: “You winners of this match by submission! CREATIVE CONTROL!!!”

JD releases the submission as the ref raises his hand. On the outside, Sacred can be seen standing, holding his ribs in pain, coughing out as he raises his arm in victory. The crowd continues to boo them, desperately waiting for them to leave.

Stevens: “A victory for the Creative Control! Stay tuned after these commercials!”

Riley: “Damn time limits!”

Commercial hits…

August 31, 2002

Riley: WE'RE BACK!!

***As we inter-cut to the announcers at their table.***

Stevens: That's my line …

Riley: I know.

Stevens: Still, …--

Riley: The arena is LOUD and ROCKING tonight, so Grand Poobah, bust out the hot dogs and cheap Miller Lite, cuz baby, we got some SMOKIN' singles action coming up next!!

Stevens: …Right. Let's um… take you backstage.

***Grand Slam throws a "what the hell's gotten into you" look whereas Riley replies with a "oh, about a dozen shots of Bailey's" look. We cut backstage, Ben Hardy stands with Tod deKindes, who looks like he's got better things to do than to jabber off to this tool.***

Ben: All right, Tod deKindes, it's been a little while since you've competed in the ring since you've been acting as more of a moral supporter for XF9. Sadly, at Apocalypse, your group lost the services of Erek Taylor, when he lost that ladder match against the Boston Strangler. Tonight, it's you and Strangler …

Tod: Yeah, we lost Erek … But you can bet it's not the last we've heard of him. He'll be back … But tonight, there's only ONE thing and ONE thing only on my mind …

Ben: Yes, Strangler will no doubt be looking to take YOU -- …

Tod: (looks into camera with determination) Tom … Flesher … That's right. I told the world I was gonna make my own impact, and YOU my friend, are the one in the crosshairs.

***Ben shrugs at the stage director off camera as if to say "hell if I know, we'll just let him talk".***

Tod: Y'see Tom…I look at you, and I see something. Well, two things … I see two title belts. But the one that catches my eye the most, is that U.S. title of yours … That's right. Ash couldn't beat you for it, so now it's my turn. I want my shot … I'll have my shot. I see that U.S. title belt resting on your shoulder, Tom … And I want it. I see that U.S. title, Tom … And I'm gonna get it. I'm gonna do it for Ash, I'm gonna do it for Erek; for XF9; hell … I'm gonna do it for me.

Ben: But um, Tod … you're facing Strangler tonight. He kills people, y'know? Hence the name …

***Tod stares at the floor to think to himself … and releases a small chuckle.***

Tod: Yeah. Strangler … (looks back up) I'll see you soon, Tom.

***With that, he walks out of camera sight, most likely headed towards the ring area. Meanwhile, we remain on Ben Hardy.***

Ben: All right, back to ringside … (long pause, as he assumes that the cameras are safely pointing at the ring) … So, how was that? … Good? … Yeah, I AM good … Heh heh heh … (hands in pockets, appearing all proud, while co-workers simply brush him off) … How YOU doin' …

Stage director: Ben, we're still on!

***As Ben appears like a deer caught in the headlights, we finally cut to the ring; where Mark Hebner enters the squared circle, and as Funyon reads off his stats card. The silence breaks over the crowd as Static X's "Burn To Burn" fires up on the speakers.***

Funyon: Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is set for one fall! … About to enter the ring, from Boston, Massachussetts and weighing in at 303 lbs; he is a member of the Magnificent Seven … The Boston - Strrrrrrrrrangleeeeeeeerrrrr!!

***As the lights slowly dim, being replaced with raucous fans providing the lighting with the flimsy lighters. Out from behind walks Strangler in his battered and torn trench coat and sunglasses. The crowd greets him with an adequate amount of boos as he answers them back … with a smile? Well, courtesy is king among men. Or something. Strangler slides under the bottom rope and wrestles himself out of his trench coat and throws his sunglasses to the ring side attendant. Not one to use a spectacular ring entrance, Strangler simply awaits for his music to be cut, and paces around the ring, awaiting for his opponent. Oh, and he also harrasses Funyon with empty death threats. What a swell guy.***

Funyon: And his opponent …

***Slipknot's "I Am Hated" blasts out of the speakers for the first time in a couple of weeks, as the proud black and green XF9 logo materializes itself on the Smarktron. Out walks XF9's resident hothead in his silver shades and definitely much nicer black trench coat. Obeying his rocking theme song's violent pace, he stops at the top of the ramp to throw an approving look at the crowd and then power walks down the ramp, then sliding under the bottom rope into the ring.***

Funyon: From Muenchen, Germany; weighing in at 223 lbs … Representing the X Force Nine … Tod - deeeeeeeee - Kiinnn - deeeeeeeesssss!!!!!!

***Tod climbs up on the second turnbuckle facing the crowd, and unleashes a mighty battle roar towards his faithful Todheads. He untrenches and unshades himself, tossing his accoutrement at the averagely cute ring girl who's making eyes at him. Not even bothering looking at Strangler, as he's busy stretching in a corner.***

Stevens: One week before Apocalypse, that man right there lost a Number One contender's match against fellow XF9'er Ash Ketchum for the U.S. title, but now since Tom Flesher is still the champion; Tod said HE wants his shot!

Riley: Yeah, notice he BARELY paid attention to Strangler in his pre-match interview! He's not even looking at him right now! This is gonna cost him …

***Under Mark Hebner's beckoning, both men come out of their separate corners and as the bell rings.***

Stevens: Here we go!

***Lock up. Strangler shrugs off the german one with ease and quickly lunges forward with a clothesline attempt! Tod ducks and connects with a series of quick right hands to the side of the head. As Strangler staggers backwards towards the ropes, Tod grabs his arm in an Irish whip attempt, but it's reversed by the large Bostonian. Tod ducks under a big clothesline attempt but then on the second bounce he quickly gets taken down with a HUGE big boot by Strangler!***

Stevens: And down goes Tod!

Riley: You know, I couldn't help noticing; but during Tod's interview just before this match, he didn't seem to have his mind on actually defeating Strangler.

***Meanwhile, Strangler gets a quick near fall on Tod.***

Stevens: Well, that's understandable; ever since Apocalypse, Tod has chased Tom Flesher and he's even outright SWORE to him that he was gonna take his U.S. title!

Riley: Riiight, 'cause he wants to bring the glory back to XF9. Well, lemme tell you, NOBODY does that at the expense of Tom Flesher, thank you VERY MUCH!!

***Recuperating, Tod staggers backwards into a corner. Strangler charges at the german one, but he's quickly met with a back elbow from Tod. Strangler holds his jaw, recoiling from the blow, as Tod runs out of the corner, spears him down and hammers away at him with another series of right hands! He hops back to his feet, throws himself in the ropes and comes off dropping a sweet looking knee drop right on Strangler's forehead. Cover by Tod.***

*ONE!*

*TWO!*

***Kick out by Strangler. Tod yanks him up to his feet by the hair, only to double him over with a solid knee lift to the mid section. Tod bounces off the ropes one more time and connects with a neatly executed delayed swinging neck breaker. Cover once again.***

*ONE!*

*TWO!*

***Despite the early offense, Strangler shoots his shoulder up, as Mark Hebner signals the near fall to the time keeper. Big snapmare puts Strangler back down on his rear end, as Tod connects with a stiff dropkick on the back of his Bostonian opponent's head. Tod lifts up the big man once again to his feet, wraps his arm around his own head and scores with a vertical suplex; in lieu of his usual snap suplex due to Strangler's sheer size. He holds on and tries to roll up Strangler for his second suplex variation; but once on his feet, Strangler holds on, blocks the suplex and fights out of it. A series of kidney punches are enough to make Tod release his grip, as Strangler lifts him up for his OWN suplex and then DROPS him across the top rope!***

Riley: Shades of Tod's own Sara Sequence, Strangler just DROPPED Tod deKindes as if he were an abusive father!!

Stevens: What?!

***Strangler clears the cobwebs and awaits for Tod to properly stand himself up on the apron … allowing Strangler to BLAST him with a running big boot! This causes Tod to fly off the ring apron and CRASH into the guard rail! At first cringing at the sight of the sick bump, Mark Hebner puts on the ten count, as Strangler recovers.***

Stevens: Tod deKindes (1) could've broken his JAW on (2) that one!!

Riley: (3) Did he??

Stevens: Well, he (4) looks all right to me …

Riley: Son of (5) a BITCH!! Do it again, (6) Strangler!!

Stevens: A little class, Bobby (7, Tod starts moving), PLEASE!

***Strangler shoves aside the referee and steps out of the ring, breaking the count. As Strangler yanks up Tod by the hair, Hebner puts on the *double* ten count. Strangler grabs Tod's head (1) in both hands and SMASHES it right against the steel ring steps. (2) Irish whip all the way to the opposite ring steps sends Tod crashing into the steel contraption, right next to (3) the announce table. Recovering, Tod lifts himself up (4) and rests up against the ring post, as (5) Strangler charges with his head down (which the nearby fans reckon it is a bad idea) (6), but Tod suddenly does a Van Dam'esque forward roll over Strangler, sending him CRASHING (7) into the steel steps himself! Tod rolls back inside the ring (breaking the referee's count in the process) and readies himself at the ropes, both hands on the top strand. He bends his knees and pulls on the rope, launching himself forward and up; as he connects with a HUGE spring board plancha onto Strangler! Hebner RE-starts the double ten count once again, as he crowd chants for their german hero and (1) his high flying antics.***

Stevens: That young man would feel (2) at home in AAA! He can fly like the best of em!!

Riley: I agree! He's not from (3) this country, he's quite the ugly little fella, so put a mask on this kid, STAT!!

***Tod eggs on a couple more (4) cheers out of the crowd, then he decides to toss Strangler back inside the ring, following suit himself. He stops himself on the apron, seeing Strangler lying right next to the ropes … giving Tod the perfect occasion to spring off the ropes once again and land a sweet looking senton atomico, shades of Eddie Guerrero. The cover.***

*ONE!*

*TWO!*

***Kick out by Strangler, as he shoots up the right shoulder, indirectly putting his arm in the ropes in the same process. Both men up, as they follow up with an Irish whip sequence, sending Strangler to the ropes. He ducks two oncoming attacks by Tod, namely the ever present clothesline and back elbow. On the third bounce, Tod leaps off of his feet in hopes of what looked like a cross body or a Lou Thesz Press but he's CAUGHT by Strangler and driven down with authority with a HUGE Angry Man's Spinebuster!***

Riley: What a brutal and devastating move!! This is TOO much from Strangler!! He needs to go a little easy, here, Tod could have been seriously HURT!!

Stevens: … Wow, Bobb- …

Riley: Just kidding. KILL HIM!! KILL HIM, STRANGLER!!

***Strangler recovers from Tod's onslaught, as he fires away a series of stomps and kicks to the shoulder and mid section of the german one; punctuating it with a solid elbow drop to the sternum area. Strangler awaits for Tod to get up to his feet, only to meet him with a vicious knee to the mid section when he does so. He lifts him up in another vertical suplex position, only to seat him up on the top turnbuckle. He climbs up to the second rope in order to attempt a fairly basic but devastating superplex, but Tod tries to fight out of it with a series of kidney punches. When that fails, Strangler drops both feet back down to the canvas and then he SMACKS Tod across the face with a big ol' soupbone!***

Riley: *groaning* Oww … Good bye, TEETH!!

***Strangler quickly walks back up to the second rope and captures Tod in a semi bear hug, only to propel him backwards with a HUGE second rope belly to belly!***

Stevens: What a BIG suplex by Boston Strangler!! Impressive agility for a man his size!

***Strangler quickly floats over into a lateral press for the pin fall attempt.***

*ONE!*

*TWO!*

*THR- …

***Kick out from Tod. Strangler looms close with the intention of a big elbow drop on the prone Tod, … but Tod moves! Tod comes off the ropes with another knee drop attempt on the downed Strangler, … but now Strangler moves! Tod clutches his knee at the missed move.***

Stevens: That can't be feeling too good.

Riley: It's that distraction again, Stevens. Tod deKindes has images of Tom Flesher dancing in his mind, and that's all he can think about, and it's costing him dearly right now; as he gets his bee hind handed to him by the Boston Strangler!

Stevens: Tom Flesher dancing? No wonder Tod can't get himself on track.

Riley: You shut your mouth right now! The Superior One is a MUCH better dancer than you think! Hell, he's shown me personally!!

Stevens: …

***Uncomfortable silence between the announcers.***

Stevens: Strangler still on the offense!!

Riley: Singles action, hot and heavy!!

***Although Tod's knee is bothering him, he only walks it off with a mere limp. Strangler oddly doesn't go for that weak spot however, opting to instead work on him with body shots. He drags Tod up by the hair, whipping him hard into a corner. Tod staggers out, holding his lower back, but walks right into a big time samoan drop from Strangler! He walks up to Tod's legs and then casually orders Mark Hebner to look at the fat chick in the first and second row … which of course allows Strangler to drop a heavy elbow right between Tod's unmentionnables!***

Stevens: Come on, ref!!

Riley: Good Lord in heaven! … She IS fat!!!

Stevens: He can't let Strangler get away with tactics like that!

Riley: Tactics?

Stevens: You can't low blow your opponent at will!!

Riley: What low blow? There was a low blow by Strangler? SHAME ON HIM!! … *snickers*

***Both men back up, as Tod is being choked in the corner. Breaking at Hebner's count of four, Strangler drags Tod by the hair over to the ropes and Irish whips him. Tod ducks a clothesline and then a back elbow, only to be caught in a gorilla press slam by the Bad Boy From Bean Town.***

Stevens: Amazing strength shown here by Strangler! Let's just hope he doesn't toss him in the front row …

Riley: He'll toss him wherever he damn well pleases!! Hell, Strangler presses young germans before eating BREAKFAST!!

Stevens: You mean, Strangler keeps young german men in his home?

Riley: …

***Strangler probably goes for Stevens' aforementionned method of hurtling his opponent in the crowd, but we'll never if that was his intention or not; as Tod slips out of the hold and lands on his feet, right behind Strangler! He locks his arms around the big man in a rear waist lock, trying to heave him off in a huge german suplex … but Strangler ain't having none of THAT.***

Riley: Look at that, you do NOT german suplex a big man like Boston Strangler! He'll move when he WANTS to!

Stevens: So in other words, he'll let his german boys do all the moving for him?

Riley: Wh-- .. ??

Stevens: Booyah!! I'm on fire tonight! …

***As Stevens probably high fives himself (who knows), Tod is relentless in his attempt at getting Strangler off his feet. He hammers him in the upper back with a series of stiff forearms before finally completing the move and DRIVING Strangler's head to the mat with an overhead release german suplex. Amazingly, Strangler slowly pops up, holding his head as if he bumped it against the showerhead of the little boys locker room. Tod quickly catches him in the fireman's carry position and then DRIVES him on his head once again with a vicious Death Valley Driver!***

Stevens: And just like Strangler's parents have been accused of in the past; Tod has dropped him RIGHT ON HIS HEAD!!

Riley: Stevens, your conduct is TOTALLY unprofessional! Stubby is gonna hear about this!!

***Tod points up to the rafters with a brief scream to the crowd, as he begins a steady climb of the turnbuckles. With Strangler in position, Tod dives off with a front flip, with "Swanton Bomb!" in mind … and it hits!! Tod throws an arm over Strangler's shoulder and puts on the lateral press for the cover.***

*ONE!*

*TWO!*

*THR-- …

***Shoulder up by Strangler. Tod orders the big man to get back up to his feet. He does so … as Tod BLASTS him with a standing side kick that most likely jarred a few teeth loose. Cover by Tod.***

*ONE!*

*TWO!*

*THR- …

***Another kick out from the big man. He once again orders the Bostonian up to his feet, no doubt wanting to attempt to kick his head off one more time. Tod extends his leg and fires off the kick … but it's caught! Strangler spins Tod around, catches him in a big goozle and nails a HUGE chokeslam on the german one.***

Riley: Chokeslam!! Chokeslam!! CHOKE BY GAWD SLAM!!

***Strangler staggers around, holding his side, recovering from the attack and then he bounces off the ropes, dropping a big leg on Tod. He hooks the leg for the cover.***

*ONE!*

*TWO!*

*THRE-- …

Stevens: NO!!!

Riley: WHAT??!

Stevens: He kicked out of The Plunge!!!

***Tod brandishes his fist up in the air to let his Todheads know that he's still in this thing. As he starts pounding the mat, Strangler grabs a handful of hair and raises Tod back up to his feet, shouting some trash talk at him. A big slap to the face brings Tod back down to his knees, as a pure sign of humiliation. Strangler winds up the leg … and caves in Tod's face with a NASTY kick to the facial regions. Tod brings his hands to his face, trying to count how many teeth he could've just lost, as he staggers back to his feet. Irish whip exchange sends Strangler running the ropes, as he ducks the ever popular clothesline and back elbow combo. As Tod puts his head down for a back body drop, Strangler quickly counters it with an impressive looking running DDT that puts Tod down. Strangler rolls over for the cover.***

*ONE!*

*TWO!*

*THRE-- …

Stevens: Not quite!!

Riley: Come on, ref!!!

***As Strangler rousts Mark Hebner for a faster count, Tod is still down from the DDT he took. Strangler brings him up to his feet (still using the hair of course) and makes a quick throat slashing gesture to signal that he's gonna finish this one off.***

Stevens: Strangler looks just about ready to win this one, Bobby.

Riley: Get ready for a BOSTON MASSACRE, Ground Beef!

***Irish whip to the ropes by Strangler. He claps his hands once for no reason and goes to lift up Tod in the military press slam, the precursor to the Boston Massacre, but Tod once again slips out from behind and dropkicks Strangler on the back of the head! The Bostonian one staggers all the way to the corner, where Tod hits him with a MASSIVE corner spear! He then hooks both of Strangler's arms … and somehow musters up the strength to lift him up with his trademark underhook belly to belly! Both men eventually up, as Tod meets Strangler with a boot to the midsection. Vertical suplex coming up, which is executed with ease. He holds onto the suplex, as the fans feel that the Sara Sequence is firing up. Tod gets Strangler back up and nails his front face suplex to perfection, dropping the big man on his stomach. He still holds on, as there's one suplex left to go.***

Stevens: Two down, one to go!!!!

Riley: Stevens, are you passing kidney stones over there?!

***Tod lifts up Strangler in the vertical suplex for a third time, and drops him with authority, stomach first on the top rope. As the crowd starts to heat up, Tod shouts out a rallying call to get them firmly behind him. He heads over to the ring apron, crossing the ropes. He springboards off the adjacent top rope and crashes on the back of Strangler's head with a beauty of a legdrop! As Strangler collapses back onto the canvas, Tod screams out a final cry while doing a reverse Guns To The Head motion.***

Stevens: And now he's signaling no doubt for the Spirit Breaker!

Riley: Fight up, Strangler! He'll Break your Spirit!! Who wants THAT?!

Stevens: Wait a second, what's this??!

***As heads in the audience turn, we see Tom Flesher walk down the ramp, all while dragging the US belt along in his hand.***

Stevens: Tom Flesher?? He's got no business here! And why does he have only the US title belt with him?

Riley: The other one's in the shop!! I hear he's having the Lightweight belt encrusted with diamonds or kryptonite or something. Saw it on Smallville. True story.

***As Tod sets up Strangler in the pumphandle position, Flesher hops up on the apron, waving his belt at Tod, screaming out stuff like "HEY! You want this?! You want it!?" and so forth. Tod completely forgets about Strangler as he drops him back to the floor as he suddenly swings at him! Flesher ducks and locks both of Tod's arms behind him. Strangler, having staggered up to his feet, sees the opportunity … charges with a clothesline … but Tod moves! As Flesher flumps down to the ringside mats, Strangler curses at his mistake, only he doesn't see Tod behind him…***

Riley: Behind you, Strangler!!

***Fans know it's coming. Strangler duly turns around … gutshot by Tod, as he swings him around in his modified neck breaker!***

Stevens: Cerebral Driver!!

Riley: NOOO!!!!

Stevens: The cover!!

*ONE!*

*TWO!*

*THREE!!*

***Bell rings. As the Slipknot tune fires up, Tom staggers up the ramp and beats a hasty retreat to the back.***

Funyon: Here is your winner: Tod - deeeeeeeee - Kiiinnn - deeeeeeesssss!!!

***Tod shoots a look right towards Flesher, as he doesn't even let Hebner raise his hand. He darts out of the ring, in pursuit of the US champion.***

Riley: Run, Tommy, run!!

Stevens: You can feel that Tod deKindes WANTS that US title for himself and he won't stop at anything to get it!

Riley: This isn't fair … Tod had the distraction of Tom Flesher in mind, yet he STILL managed to defeat Strangler … What has this world come to?

Stevens: Some questions have to remain unanswered, folks. Just like "has Bobby Riley ever touched a boobie?"

Riley: Shut up!

Stevens: We'll be right back!!

***As Mark Hebner informs a confused Strangler of his unfortunate demise, we slowly fade away to commercial break.***

August 31, 2002

The final commercial of the break finally fades out, only to be replaced within seconds by a wide-angle shot of the inside of the Norfolk Scope Arena, with the SWFTron square in the center of the shot. After a few moments of nothingness, the lights suddenly go out as Do or Die’s “Victory” blasts out over the arena. A few seconds go by, then the stage is lit up by a huge explosion of white pyro as the music picks up. When the explosion finishes, Lerrin Breggan can be seen standing on the center of the entrance ramp, glaring directly at the ring, either oblivious to or completely ignoring the booing coming from every corner of the arena.

Funyon: The following is a singles match, and it is scheduled for one fall! Introducing first, from Cincinnati, Ohio, weighing in at 285 pounds....Leeeeeeeerin Bregaaaaaaan!!

Lerrin stalks towards the squared circle, not letting any of the noise surrounding him distract his focus. He slides in under the bottom rope and goes to his corner while the lights come back up and “Victory” fades away. Breggan does some light stretching in the corner as the boos slowly die down.

Stevens: And welcome back to SWF Storm, everyone! Tonight has pretty much been Apocalypse aftermath, as wrestlers from all across the board do damage control from last night’s incredible event.

Riley: Speaking of which, it looks Lerrin has a chance to avenge the match STOLEN from him last night, as he takes on the man that pinned him in the Triple Threat #1 Contendership Match, El Luchadore Magnifico!

Stevens: Remarkably enough, Riley, I agree that Breggan’s chances to win had to be pretty slim after Fallout pasted him with the steel chair.

Riley: Yeah!

Stevens: HOWEVER, Magnifico isn’t the one Breggan should be seeking revenge on. All he did was drive away Fallout and take advantage of the situation.

Riley: Maybe so, but do you think Lerrin cares about that? He’s got to release his rage somehow, and I’ve got a feeling that it’s going to be on Magnifico.

Breggan waits impatiently for his opponent for several seconds, until a Mexican voice suddenly shouts “UNO! DOS! TRES! CUATRO!” over the speakers, with a burst of pyro exploding upwards from each corner in conjunction with each shouted word. “Mission Trip to Mexico” by Bunch of Believers suddenly begins blaring over the loudspeakers, nearly drowned out by the cheers of the fans as they await the arrival of El Luchadore Magnifico. Their excitement only intensifies when the man himself bursts out from behind the curtain, waving his Mexican flag proudly. ELM quickly makes his way down the ramp, sporting a huge grin as he slaps the hands of the fans in the front row.

Funyon: And now, from Mexico City, Mexico, weighing in at 190 pounds...El Luchadooooooorre Magnificooooooo!!

Upon hearing his name, Magnifico bursts into a full spring towards the ring and slides beneath bottom rope, flag still in hand. However, ELM doesn’t have a chance to get back to his feet, as Breggan is immediately on top of him, stomping away wildly at the luchadore’s back! It’s a flurry of activity as Mag’s music quickly dies down, the fans shift from cheering to booing, and the ref rapidly signals for the bell, all while Breggan continues stomp stomp stomping away!

DING DING DING

Stevens: Aw c’mon! I know he’s angry, but that’s no reason for Lerrin to attack Magnifico before he has a chance to defend himself!

Riley: Sure it is! The sooner Breggan wins, the sooner his rage is gone, and the sooner small children are safe from his hellish wrath!

After Breggan lands ten or so stomps, he grabs Magnifico by his hair and jerks him to his feet, before pushing/throwing him back-first into the nearby corner. As the ref scrambles to slide the Mexican Flag out of the ring, Lerrin pulls ELM’s head back and begins pounding away at his exposed forehead, striking Magnifico solidly in the skull with blow after blow! Once he’s through with that, Breggan grabs Magnifico by the arm and whips him across the ring, sending ELM rushing towards the opposite corner! Before the luchadore can even reach his destination, Breggan sprints across the ring, hoping to take Magnifico by surprise and crush him against the turnbuckles! However, Lerrin’s plans are dashed when ELM hops onto the second turnbuckle and immediately backflips off of it, flying over Breggan’s head and landing on his feet behind the charging monster! Lerrin manages to skid to a halt before colliding with the turnbuckles, and spins around just in time to see Magnifico leap into the air and kick out his feet, driving them into Lerrin’s face with a Flipping Dropkick! Breggan stumbles backwards from the impact, landing back-first in the corner as ELM springs back to his feet. Not letting up for a second, Magnifico approaches Lerrin and begins to kick at his gut repeatedly, doubling Breggan over a little more with every kick! After landing five solid kicks, Magnifico grabs Lerrin by the arm and attempts to whip him across the ring. However, Breggan hooks his free arm around the top rope, impeding any movement on his part no matter how hard the luchadore tugs! Apparently annoyed with the constant tugging, Breggan suddenly jerks his arm in, pulling Magnifico in with it, before charging out of the corner and lashing out with his arm, driving it directly into ELM’s neck and knocking him to the ground with a Short-Arm Clothesline! A loud OOOH! rises from the stands as Magnifico lays on the mat, choking for breath.

Stevens: Ouch! Magnifico looked like he had something going there, but Breggan quickly put an end to that little burst of offense.

Riley: Remember what you just saw, Stevens, because Magnifico’s never gonna get another shot like that! It doesn’t surprise me that he completely blew his chance to do some real damage.

ELM begins struggling to his feet, but Lerrin won’t allow anything of the sort, as he grabs Magnifico by the arm and violently jerks him upwards. Using his grip, Breggan then whips Magnifico across the ring, towards the far ropes. ELM bounces off and rushes back towards Lerrin, and as he approaches, the big man grabs him by the leg and shoulder, before lifting Magnifico and throwing him straight up into the air! However, Breggan neglects to move afterwards, allowing Magnifico to bring his legs forward and hook them around Lerrin’s head in mid-air, before jerking backwards and throwing him to the mat with a Hurricanrana! Breggan rolls through the impact and pops back to his feet, as Magnifico lands on the mat and does the same, standing up just in time to see Lerrin charging towards him! Breggan lashes out for another Clothesline, but ELM manages to duck beneath it, standing upright behind Lerrin as the big man spins around to face him. As soon as he does so, Magnifico turns his arm sideways and drives it into Lerrin’s chest, creating an incredible SMACK! with a stiff Knife-Edge Chop! The fans obediently WHOOO!, and do so again when ELM lands another one, creating a slightly more incredible SMACK! WHOOO! With Breggan reeling somewhat, Magnifico grabs him by the arm and attempts another whip. However, Lerrin still manages to reverse it, sending Magnifico rushing towards the ropes. ELM bounces off and runs back towards Breggan, and as he approaches, Lerrin reaches out and wraps his arms around the luchadore’s waist, locking him into position for a Belly-to-Belly Suplex! However, Magnifico immediately begins fighting out of it, lifting his elbow and driving it directly into Breggan’s skull! ELM repeatedly bashes away with his elbow, bonking it off of Lerrin’s skull until the big man finally loosens his grip! Finally able to escape, Magnifico breaks free of Breggan’s grip and rushes towards the ropes, bouncing off while Lerrin tries to shake off the numerous shots to his skull. ELM rushes back towards Lerrin, but before he has chance to do anything, Breggan suddenly steps towards him and wraps his arms around the luchadore’s body once more! Not wasting a second this time, Lerrin immediately falls backwards, throwing Magnifico over his head with an Overhead Belly-to-Belly Suplex! Magnifico lands with unpleasant impact, arching his back in pain as the fans begin to boo.

Riley: If at first you don’t succeed...

Stevens: Breggan seems to have taken that lesson to heart, as he drives Magnifico into the canvas with an Overhead Belly-to-Belly even after ELM escaped his first attempt!

Riley: Gotta give the little guy points for persistence, but he’s certainly not gonna get any for intelligence.

As Magnifico rolls onto his stomach, his back still arched, Breggan quickly gets back to his feet, approaching ELM and stomping on him hard as the luchadore tries to push himself to his feet. After a few stomps, Lerrin gets behind Magnifico, hooks both of his arms in a Full Nelson, then begins to slowly pull him to his feet, all the while keeping the luchadore in his hold. Once ELM is on his feet, Breggan begins to lift him backwards for the Full Nelson Suplex, but suddenly stops when Magnifico throws his head backwards, driving it straight into Lerrin’s face with a quasi-Headbutt! Breggan’s grip weakens enough for ELM to break his arms free, spinning around to face Lerrin as he does so. Magnifico immediately grabs one of Breggan’s arms and twists it around into a Chicken Wing, before grabbing him around the head, setting Lerrin up for Montezuma’s Revenge! But before ELM can drop to his knees and complete the move, Breggan suddenly throws his knee forward, slamming it into Magnifico’s gut and forcing him to instinctively release the hold as he doubles over in pain. With ELM in that position, Lerrin is able to grab him around the waist, lift the luchadore into the air, and then quickly fall backwards, flipping ELM over in mid-air and slamming him back-first into the canvas! Magnifico instinctively arches his back once again, but he is pushes down to the mat by Lerrin, who floats onto him for the pin as the crowd boos. Breggan hooks Magnifico’s leg as the ref slides into position and begins counting...

ONE...

TWO...No! Magnifico kicks out at two and a half, much to the delight of the fans.

Stevens: Magnifico just can’t seem to get a strong attack in; whenever he comes close, Lerrin just swats him away! Unless ELM can break through Breggan’s defenses, there’s no chance he’ll get Breggan down for the three count.

Riley: Damn straight, Stevens. Magnifico’s best course of action here would be to save his pride and kiss Lerrin’s pinky toe before lying down on the mat for him.

Undaunted, Lerrin rolls off of Magnifico and quickly gets to his feet, before grabbing ELM by his hair and painfully pulling him to a standing position. Still gripping Magnifico’s hair, Lerrin heads over to the nearest turnbuckle and suddenly pulls forward on the luchadore’s dark locks, driving his head directly into top turnbuckle! A hand on his forehead, ELM turns onto his back and leans up against the turnbuckle, allowing Breggan to lift his foot, place it on Magnifico’s neck, and press forward, cutting off all the air to ELM’s head with a Boot Choke! Magnifico flails his arms wildly and struggles for breath as the ref begins counting how long the choke is lasting above the angry boos of the crowd. After five seconds or so, the ref begins threatening Breggan with disqualification, which is apparently enough to get him to release his boot, allowing Magnifico to fall to the mat, holding his throat and gasping for breath. Lerrin takes a second to intimidate the poor ref, then turns back to Magnifico, grabbing him by the arm and quickly pulling him to his feet. Using his grip, Lerrin whips ELM across the ring, sending him rushing towards the opposite turnbuckle. Breggan remains motionless until Magnifico crashes back-first into the corner, causing the ring ropes to shake with his impact, at which point Lerrin charges across the ring, aiming himself directly at the luchadore! However, as Breggan approaches, ELM throws his foot up, driving it straight into Lerrin’s face! Breggan backs up several steps, slightly shocked by the sudden impact, as Magnifico hops backwards onto the second turnbuckle! Just as Lerrin is steadying himself, Magnifico leaps off of the turnbuckle, extending his arms and legs for a Flying Cross-Body! It looks like ELM is making perfect contact....until Breggan grabs him by the legs and shoulder, catching him in mid-air, and spins around, falling to the mat and slamming Magnifico into the mat with a Powerslam! The surprised fans begin booing as Lerrin doesn’t move off of the luchadore, hooking his leg as the ref slides into position and begins to count...

ONE...

TWO...No! Magnifico kicks out at two and a half, quickly quieting the boos and drawing a few cheers from the crowd.

Stevens: Magnifico better think of something, quick-like, or else Breggan’s just gonna keep wearing him down! There’s no way he can keep kicking out of power move after power move.

Riley: Wow, we seem to be thinking along the same lines tonight. Have you fell prey to...*cue dramatic music* THE DARK SIDE?!

Stevens: Hardly. Any side you’re on is one I’d like to stay for away from.

The slightest bit of frustration running across his face, Lesnar rolls off of Magnifico and gets back to his feet, before grabbing ELM by his arm and dragging him to his feet. Once Magnifico is standing, Breggan wraps his arms around ELM’s waist, lifts him into the air, and begins squeezing, locking the luchadore into a powerful Bearhug! The fans begin booing for a combination of Breggan’s dominance and the outdated, eighties-style offense. But regardless of how lame the move looks, it seems to be effective, as Magnifico gets limper and limper the longer he is in Lerrin’s rock-hard grip. Sensing that ELM is near unconsciousness, Breggan squeezes harder and harder, and soon, Magnifico is completely limp and unmoving. The fans booing only intensifies as the ref grabs ELM’s arm, picks it up, and lets it drop without a touch of resistance from the luchadore. Repeating the sequence, the ref lets Magnifico’s arm drop once more, again without any resistance. Breggan begins nodding his head up and down, a confident grin on his face, as the fans grow louder and more concerned while the ref grabs Mag’s arm for a third time. The ref lets go....it drops....but suddenly springs to life, as the arm shoots upwards, instantly silencing the boos and drawing a relieved pop from the crowd! The grin quickly leaves Breggan’s face as he begins squeezing harder than ever, but to no avail! Magnifico lifts both of his hands, locks them above Breggan’s head, and then drives them downwards, slamming both fists into the top of Lerrin’s head with a Double Axe Handle! One can almost see Breggan’s eyes burst out of his head from the impact as he releases his grip, allowing Magnifico to fall to his feet in front of the big man! As soon as he lands, ELM takes a few steps back, before sidestepping towards Lerrin, throwing his foot into the air and driving it directly into his chin with a Superkick! The impact causes Breggan to stumble backwards wildly, falling into the ropes as the fans cheer louder and louder. Lerrin bounces off the ropes and comes back towards Magnifico, and as he approaches, ELM grabs him around the head and the arm, pulls Lerrin down to the mat, and rolls backwards, rolling Breggan into a pin with an Inside Cradle! Breggan struggles wildly to escape as the ref slides into position and begins counting...

ONE...

TWO...No! Breggan breaks free at two and a half, effectively ending most of the cheering in the arena. Both Lerrin and ELM pop to their feet, but Breggan gets up a little quicker. The one second advantage giver Lerrin the time to charge towards the luchadore as he stands up, throwing his foot into the air slamming it into Magnifico’s face with a Big Boot! ELM quickly snaps back to the mat as the fans OHHH! in unison, followed by boos floating in from the rafters.

Stevens: Well, it’s a start, I suppose.

Riley: Hah, that was quick! Magnifico hits a fluke Superkick and a rollup, but Breggan just squishes him again! Very effective, ELM, great job...

Stevens: At least he got a little more offense in than you expected, which would be....none?

Riley: Yeah, that sounds about right.

Breggan takes a second to relocate his chin, then grabs Magnifico by his hair and slowly, painfully pulls him to his feet. Once he’s standing, Lerrin immediately pulls him into a Suplex position, before lifting him high into the air, holding Magnifico perpendicular to the ground as the impressed crowd murmurs in unison. After a few seconds, Lerrin begins spinning around, looking to hit Magnifico with a Corkscrew Suplex! But as Breggan spins, Magnifico manages to escape Lerrin’s grip, sliding out of his hands and landing on his feet behind the big man! Before Breggan can turn to face him, ELM crouches down, grabs Lerrin by the legs, and pulls backwards, rolling him up into a pin with a School Boy! Lerrin kicks his legs in a desperate attempt to escape as Magnifico presses down on his body while the ref slides into position...

ONE...

TWO...No! Lerrin escapes once more, powering out of the pin and rolling backwards to his feet as Magnifico pops to his feet in front of the big man. Breggan charges once more, this time lashing out with a Clothesline, but Magnifico ducks under it and starts running, heading towards the ropes behind Lerrin. ELM bounces off of the ropes and rushes back towards Breggan, and as he approaches, Lerrin reaches out to grab him, but Magnifico counters by bending down as he runs, slamming his head directly into Breggan’s gut with a Spear! Lerrin immediately doubles over in pain as Magnifico springs to his feet and immediately applies a Front Face Lock, before falling onto his back, pulling Breggan down with him and slamming the top of his head into the canvas with a DDT! The fans burst into cheers as Magnifico floats over for the pin, hooking the leg as the ref slides into position...

ONE...

TWO...Noo! Lerrin escapes yet again, kicking out forcefully at two and a half!

Stevens: Magnifico has finally got on the offensive, but it’s not enough! Breggan looked like he was barely stunned by that DDT!

Riley: Ok, now I’m starting to get a bit worried for Breggan.

Stevens: Why, do you actually think he might lose the match?

Riley: It might be a possibility...Lerrin must obviously be suffering from some rare condition, which prevents him from finishing off pathetic weaklings like Magnifico! What a tragedy!

As Stevens sighs loudly, Magnifico rolls off of Lerrin and pushes himself back to his feet, as Breggan sluggishly turns onto his stomach on the mat. Once ELM is standing, he looks down at Lerrin, then out over the crowd, a plotting grin slowly coming over his face. Suddenly, Magnifico heads towards the nearest corner and begins climbing the turnbuckles while Lerrin begins struggling to his feet in the center of the ring. Once ELM reaches the top turnbuckle, he stands straight up on it and turns towards Breggan, who is just now reaching one knee. The fans that know what’s going on begin to cheer like mad as Lerrin finally reaches his feet, facing away from the luchadore. Slowly, unwittingly, Breggan turns around, coming face to face with the luchadore, perched high above him! Magnifico takes that as a cue to leap off of the top turnbuckle, flying towards Breggan with his legs extended in front of him! ELM wraps his legs around Breggan’s head in mid-air for the Fall of the Aztecs, but as he does so, Lerrin suddenly grabs him by the waist and immediately sits down, smashing him back-first into the mat with a Sit-Down Powerbomb!!

The cheering that once rang throughout the arena immediately shifts to boos as Lerrin remains sitting, pressing Magnifico down to the mat for the pin! The ref slides into position and begins counting as the fans grow louder in their booing...

ONE...

TWO...

THR-Nooo! Magnifico gets a shoulder up right before three, bringing about the return of the relieved pop! Breggan stares a hole into the referee as he shoves ELM’s legs out of the way and begins arguing with ol’ stripy shirt.

Stevens: Whoa! Magnifico pulls The Fall of the Aztecs, a move he hasn’t used in months, out of his bag of tricks, but Lerrin manages to counter it into a Sit-Down Powerbomb!

Riley: And with ELM’s trump card effective voided, it’s only a matter of time before Breggan finishes him off!

Lerrin argues for a few more seconds until he realizes that he’s not getting anywhere, and instead turns back to Magnifico, who is sluggishly rolling onto his stomach with one hand on his back. Breggan reaches down, grabs ELM by the hair, and begins painfully pulling him to his feet, while Magnifico writhes uncomfortably under his grasp. Once the luchadore is standing, Lerrin looks out over the audience, a cocky grin coming over his face, and quickly draws his arm across his throat, completing the universal “cutthroat” gesture for the whole audience to see. In turn, the fans immediately begin to boo, as Breggan turns to Magnifico, who doesn't even seem to realize the predicament he’s in.

Stevens: This doesn’t look good for the kooky luchadore! Breggan is in complete control, and his gesticulating indicates that he wants to finish the match right here and now!

Breggan stares at ELM for a few seconds, the hate burning in his eyes...before grabbing Magnifico by the leg and shoulder and lifting him into the air, placing the luchadore back-first onto his shoulders in a Torture Rack position! Pressing Magnifico onto his shoulders, Lerrin holds the luchadore there for a few seconds, reveling in the boos pouring in from every corner of the stands. Suddenly, Breggan lifts ELM off of his shoulders and spins him into position for a Powerbomb, looking to crush the luchadore with his Royal Decision! But as Breggan does so, Magnifico instinctively hooks his legs around Lerrin’s head, jerking backwards as he does so and sending the big man to the floor with a Hurricanrana! The fans release an incredible pop as Breggan rolls through the move and quickly gets back to his feet, while Magnifico slowly stands up a few feet away from him. Seething with anger, Lerrin approaches the luchadore and throws out a stiff kick, only to have Magnifico catch it! ELM holds Breggan’s foot for but a second, then throws the leg to one side, spinning Breggan around 180 degrees! Immediately after Lerrin is spun around, Magnifico turns around as well, reaches back, hooks both of Breggan’s arms as if for a Backslide, and then begins running towards the nearest corner! The stands rock with exuberance as ELM begins running up the turnbuckles, Breggan in tow!

Stevens: Nooo! Magnifico manages to escape Breggan’s Royal Decision, and is now seconds away from landing his own finisher, the Baja California Crusher!!

Riley: Gah! What the hell is going on here?! C’mon Breggan, use your super strength to make everything better again!

Magnifico reaches the first turnbuckle, then the second, and then springs backwards off of the third, flipping over Lerrin’s head! As ELM falls to the mat, he drags Breggan down with him, slamming his face into the canvas as the luchadore lands on his knees! The fans are ecstatic at this point, cheering their little hearts out as Magnifico grabs Lerrin by the shoulders, turns him onto his stomach, and then drapes himself over Breggan’s body for the pin!! The ref slides into position and begins to count, helped out by the thousands of fans that count along...

ONE...

TWO...

THREEE!! Breggan gets his shoulder up just a bit too late, as the ref springs to his feet and signals for the bell!

DING DING DING

Funyon: Your winner, by pinfall....El Luchadooooooorre Magnificooooooo!!

“Mission Trip to Mexico” begins blaring over the speakers, almost drowned out by the cheers of the fans, as Breggan rolls onto his stomach, blinking repeatedly as he shakes off the impact of the Crusher. Meanwhile, Magnifico lays motionless on the mat after rolling off Breggan, a victorious grin painted across his face.

Stevens: Lerrin did get a shoulder up, but it was half a second too late! Magnifico gets the three count, and the win!

Riley: Bah, he was robbed! Fast-count ref! Cheating luchadore! Governmental conspiracies!

Breggan slowly begins pushing himself to his feet, his face twisting into a mask of rage as he realizes what just happened. Lerrin finally stands and looks down on the luchadore, who has just now turned onto his stomach and begun to push himself to his feet. Unable to control his anger, Breggan reaches down, grabs Magnifico by his arms, and jerks him to his feet, as the crowd quickly quiets down and begins booing in anticipation. Breggan quickly spins ELM around so that he’s facing away from the big man, then hooks both of Magnifico’s arms from behind and bends over so that the back of his head is against the luchadore’s lower back. Slowly, Lerrin stands upright, pushing/lifting Magnifico into the air and onto his back in a Vertebreaker position!! The fans, all of them now on the same page, begin booing in unison, as Breggan holds Magnifico upside-down, the look of rage still painted across his face.

Stevens: No! Stop it, Lerrin! Just accept your loss and move on!

Riley: The hell he will! Breggan deserves to do anything he wants to Magnifico after screwing him a second time!

Suddenly, the anger disappears from Lerrin’s face, replaced by a calm smile...as he jumps into the air, before landing on his ass and crushing the luchadore’s neck with the Kingdome Come! The fans only grow louder and angrier as Magnifico limply falls to the mat, his eyes closed and his chest heaving, while Lerrin practically pops back to his feet, shouting angrily at the luchadore.

Stevens: That’s just bullshit! There’s no reason for Breggan to do that!

Riley: You don’t know what he’s going through! Lerrin is a very sensitive man, and doesn’t take rejection easily!

Stevens: Whatever. Anyway, stick around folks, because coming up next, we have Chris Wilson defending the ICTV Title against one of his greatest rivals, Perfect Bo!

The last image broadcasted before the show fades to commercial is Lerrin Breggan, nearly screaming at El Luchadore Magnifico, who lays motionless, face-down, on the mat...

August 31, 2002

Stubby P. McWeed. The most powerful man in the SWF sat in the less then well furnished office area of the Norfolk SCOPE Arena and muttered to himself in dark tones. “Last time I book an arena on Mother Nature’s advice… Old girl’s going senile.” A frustrated hand lashed out at a flickering lamp, making it produce a stable light for another few minutes.

Then the door to his office swept open, no knock to decree the entrant’s arrival, just the foot steps and the guttural British accented voice of his once most hated rival. “McWeed. We need to talk.”

A look of pained frustration swept over McWeed’s face as he stood up on instinct. “Christ, Flammer, don’t you ever knock?!” A raised brow met the question, which forced a sigh from the Commissioner’s body. “Stupid question. What do ya want?”

“Other then you should have booked the Gunn, rather then this shit hole?” A tone of amusement imbedded itself in Divefire’s voice as he stepped in a little further into the room, looking around and then shaking his head. “Or is the budget not what it was?”

“Hey, fuck you.” McWeed spat back, falling back into his chair and rubbing his brow with his hand slowly, trying to rub away some of his constant headache. “I’ve been running this place a hell of a lot longer then you ever did.”

With a nod of agreement, Divefire moved to lean against a wall, folding his arms across his chest and meeting McWeed’s gaze. “Yeah, but I did it as a favour. Why you do it is…” A pause as the two men’s gaze met and fought a small battle, fireworks playing off them both of old battles and wounds. A smirk crossed Divefire’s features before he finished. “… is your business.”

“Uh huh.” Stubby muttered, looking away from a moments peace before muttering again. “You come here just to trade insults or did you actually want something?”

Another nod and a shift of his gaze were his agreement. “Yeah, I did. I want Wilson, in warm blood. I’d do cold, but, I hate causing international incidents.” Another smirk of cold amusement moved the edge of his lips but in the back of his eyes, the fires burned darkly at the wrath waiting to be unleashed. “Think you can arrange that for me?”

It took all of three seconds for Stubby to nod, a hint of his own smirk playing out. “Ya I think I can sort that for you. When for?”

“Genesis. Aside from the fact it’s a good payday, I want to post a few reminders that people will see. I do have a reputation to maintain.” Divefire smirked again, stretching out his arms and forcing a few cracks out to play out the tension in his body.

A shake of Stubby’s head hid his amusement, before he made a brief note on his notepad. “First Thugg, then Wilson. Heh, who’s next to face the flames of the big ol scary Diveflammer?” The Commissioner enquired his tone still careful.

A shrug rippled out of Divefire’s frame as he pushed off the wall and headed for the door. “Who knows, Edwin maybe. He’s been looking good.”

“Yeah, in a psychotic Brit kinda way… Mind you, should be used to that.” Another thoughtful look escaped his gaze. “Though if you want Edwin, you’re gonna have to go through some of the others. Like Fallout, Raynor, ELM… Me… Or my crew…”

The thought stopped Divefire at the doorway, as he slowly looked over his shoulder to McWeed. “Now that…” He intoned with darkness at the edge of words and the flames dancing in his eyes. “Would be a damn shame…”

“Heh. You gonna watch Wilson and Bo beat the shit outta each other?” Stubby asked the leaving form, ignoring the barbs between them for now.

“Always do.” Divefire replied, slipping on his shades and stepping back out into the hall way and leaving the Commissioner to his own thoughts.

McWeed watched Divefire walk away for a moment, before turning back to his desk and rubbing a temple slowly. “Wonder if Mother Nature’s got any tips for dealing with fire…”

August 31, 2002

I will not fall, I will stand tall, ya all are underneath me…”

The image of Perfect Bo appears on the Smarktron™ as SWF Storm comes back from commercial, a huge burst of pyro rocking the stage as Bo continues.

“I’m from the home of 9/11, the place of the lost towers, and regardless of that we never lose power.”

“WELCOME BACK TO SWF STORM!” greets “Grand Slam” Mark Stevens as the crowd starts to boo loudly, another explosion rocking the stage. “We’ve had a night of hot action so far, and it all comes to a head right now. Because in our main event, Chris Wilson will defend his ICTV championship against the Hardcore God, Perfect Bo. Bo won this match in a hard-fought last man standing match with X Force 9 leader LDP on Sunday, while Wilson lost yet again to Edwin MacPhisto.

Bo walks out onto the stage, looking down at the floor as Stevens recaps and “New York City” by Cam’ron and Jay-Z begins to blast. He looks up, ignoring the spiteful Virginia fans as he scans the arena. He sprints down to the ring, preparing for his shot at Wilson and some gold.

“Ladies and gentlemen, it’s time for your main event!” booms Funyon from the ring. “The following contest is scheduled for one fall and is for the SWF ICTV Championship! First, the challenger, making his way to the ring and hailing from the Bronx, New York and weighing in at 285 pounds, he represents Creative Control….PERFECT BOOOOOOOOOO!”

“These two men go way back, and it’s not because they were best buds,” reminisces Riley. “Wilson defeated Bo when he made his return a little under a year ago at IGNWF Dissention. After that, Bo took the rematch in an ICTV title contendership match. This is looking like the rubber match between these two legends of SWF lore.”

Bo climbs up to the turnbuckle, raising his closed fist in the air as the crowd redoubles their efforts of booing him. He turns around and drops to the floor, the lights in the Norfolk Scope arena dropping out…

“Ah…..….ah…ah………….Ah……….ah…ah…….”

A fog begins to drift over the arena, the huge negative roar for Bo looking weak as the fans give their opinions on the ICTV champion.

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

The fog thickens near the stage and out walks the form of a man in a trench coat, barely visible in the fog. Bo walks towards the ropes, shouting at Wilson to come down the ramp and get what’s coming to him. The fog continues to grow thicker and thicker, rolling over the ring and nearly taking away the form of the hulking Puerto Rican. The figure on the ramp continues to stand there, Bo growing angrier as he beckons for him to come down to the ring.

“And his opponent…hailing from Miami, Florida, and weighing in at 273 pounds, he is the leader of the Magnificent Seven and the SWF ICTV champion-“

Funyon is cut off as Chris Wilson slides into the ring from behind and pushes the ring announcer to the side, clobbering a completely surprised Bo from behind! As the fog finally starts to thin out, a confused crowd, referee and announce team look up to the stage, where “TNT” Taylor Nicholas Thompson tips an imaginary hat down to his leader and the man they just ambushed before disappearing to the back, coat billowing around him.

“It was a damned set-up!” shouts an outraged Stevens as Wilson clubs on the back of his head with hard forearms. “Even a dirty bastard like Bo doesn’t deserve that.”

DING DING DING!

The bell rings, signifying the official beginning of the match as Riley weighs in. “Bo should take this as a sign of respect. TNT had the night off, and he helped out Wilson by duping the Creative Control representative, who’s now at the mercy of the evil genius. I love it.”

Even Bo is getting some support from the crowd as Wilson turns him around and whips him towards the ropes. He charges at his challenger, and shoots out a clothesline that takes him right across the chest, knocking him back…

…to right about nowhere as Bo stands there, looking at Wilson with almost a smile in his eye. He grabs the M7 leader and delivers a brutal head BUTT, dropping him flat to the mat. The crowd likes that, and they stop booing, not actually cheering Bo yet as Wilson rolls up to his feet and is sent towards the rope with a hard Irish whip. Bo follows after him, and as Wilson reverses direction off the ropes he takes a knee to the gut and flips hard to the mat. Wilson clutches his abdomen as Bo reaches down and puts him snugly in a front facelock, dragging him up to his feet whether he wants to go or not. A few moments later Chris Wilson is being held up in the air, Bo not even breathing heavy yet, before being dropped down hard to the mat with a vertical suplex.

“Wilson tried quite a ruse there,” states Stevens, “but the unfair advantage he tried to get against Bo certainly was for nil, as the Hardcore God’s taking control of this match early. I didn’t think Wilson was that worried that he’d use TNT as a decoy and attack from behind.”

“Oh, he wasn’t worried at all,” assures Riley. “TNT wasn’t booked tonight, and Wilson just gave him something to do since he was tired of walking down that hard metal ramp. It’s hard on your back, you know, plus he got to mingle with his adoring and supportive fans.”

“I didn’t realize the boys from the state pen were here tonight.”

Bo leans down to take hold of Wilson, lacing his fingers in the hair of the smaller man and pulling him up to a sitting position. Staying close, Bo draws his fist back, lurching forward and driving the point of his knuckles into Wilson’s forehead. The leader of the Magnificent Seven bucks backwards with the impact, but Bo quickly tugs him back, tearing at his hair, and slams his fist across Wilson’s forehead again. Maintaining this assault, Bo’s fist rocket’s across the upper face of Wilson again and again, until the ref finally slaps Bo’s shoulder, signaling for the perfect one to get his opponent back to his feet. Bo turns his head towards the ref, cursing once, and drives his closed fist across Wilson’s cranium with three hard, rapid shots, before he finally lifts him up with almost contemptuous ease, one hand jerking Wilson to a standing position, pulling him up by the hair.

Both competitors on their feet, Bo doesn’t let up for a second, the large Puerto Rican shoving Wilson back towards the ropes. Wilson rebounds, and Bo fires a hard kick at Wilson’s midsection, trying to drive his toe deep into the magnificent leader’s gut. The ICTV champ reacts swiftly, catching the foot before it can slam into his abdomen, though for a moment it seems he was too slow, body doubling over. Continuing his motion, Wilson falls, and twists his body, bringing his free arm up along the back of Bo’s thigh, Flipping the big man to the mat with a legwhip. Maintaining the hold, Wilson moves up over the face down Bo on the mat, planting his feet to either side of Bo and leaning back, segueing right into a half crab, lifting the leg up high, hyper-extending the knee and thigh of Bo.

Stevens speaks up first, raising his voice just a bit to be heard over the outpouring of hatred the fans are giving to the current ICTV champ. “Chris Wilson being dominated by a slow, powerful assault from the Perfect One, but he shows his mat prowess by catching the leg, starting off with a Dragon Screw Legwhip and going right into that half crab. He’s trying to ground Bo, to make this a more technical competition in the hopes he can outdistance the man from Creative Control.”

“Wilson is a general in that ring, Stevens. A four star general, and he knows just the way to control a monster like Bo. You know, that’s a pretty good analogy. Wilson a General. I would be proud to serve under him.”

Stevens glances in Riley’s direction, arching one eyebrow ever so slightly. “What?…. Oh, that’s just WRONG, Mark.”

Within the confines of the squared circle, Wilson leans back hard, wrenching at Bo’s leg and causing the Puerto Rican to cry out, camera clearly catching the anger etched on his face. Fighting back, Bo manages to straighten his leg, forcing Wilson off his feet as he does so, and dropping the mad geniuses chest right across the middle rope, close at hand. The hold broken, an angry Bo comes up to his feet, shaking his leg for a moment before stepping over to Wilson, still draped across the ropes. Pulling his left hand back, Bo drives a fierce shot to the back of Wilson’s skull, and then plants between Wilson’s shoulders and begins to choke him on the ropes, pulling hard at the top rope for more leverage. The ref begins his count, and the fans boo, though the Perfect One doesn’t manage to garner heat from all corners of the arena for assaulting the hated Wilson.

Finally breaking the hold before the ref can reach a five count, Bo wraps his forearms around Wilson’s waist, straightening up to a standing position. Throwing himself backwards, Bo hoists Wilson into the air, managing to get the evil genius overhead before his hands can grab the ropes for respite. Wilson’s body is sent up over Bo, and the hands around Wilson’s waist release their grip, sending him sailing through midair, finally crashing to the mat with an audible thud, landing taken hard on his neck and shoulders, leaving him crumpled. Rolling over on the mat, Bo tugs Wilson onto his back, and throws his body overtop of him, looking up just as the ref slides into place.

ONE!

.

TWO!

.

And a loud rush of boos permeates the arena as Wilson kicks out hard, managing to roll his shoulder off the mat in time to save his ICTV title.

“Bo powered out of the half crab, and quite literally had Wilson on the ropes, only to pull him up into a high release german suplex, crumpling Wilson to the mat and nearly snatching away the ICTV title with a single power move. If Wilson wants to win this, he’s going to have to slow the big man down, and avoid any more big hits like that.”

“It’s Wilson’s amazing staying power that allows him to retain his title against Bo here, Mark, and you and I both know just how important stamina and staying power really are.”

“Speak for yourself, Mr. Riley.”

“What I mean is that that one moment of power, that instinct to get your shoulders up off the mat, or the willpower to not tap out is what separates the true champions in this business, and ultimately decides every match. It takes a lot to put Wilson out of commission, and Bo will try, but Wilson’s going to take this to the wire.”

Both men come to their feet in the ring, only separated by a foot of empty air, and a determined Perfect Bo quickly closes the gap, rushing at his smaller opponent, but Wilson moves swiftly as well, leaning back and sending a powerful kick to the groin of Bo, doubling over the larger man. The referee admonishes Wilson, and the fans boo even louder, but Wilson merely looks towards the ref, beginning to argue. After a moment, Bo begins to rise up to his full height again, only to be met by a charging Wilson as the mastermind shoves aside the ref forcefully, and drives his thumb into the unprotected eye of the Perfect One, drawing further admonishment from the ref. Wilson motions towards the outside of the ring, pointing to the timekeepers table, and the ref shakes his head no, fans booing as it becomes evident Wilson is trying to get himself disqualified.

Turning away from the ref as he realizes he won’t get his DQ, Wilson moves over towards Bo, who is coming up to his feet once more, taunting the Perfect One. Bo rushes towards Wilson, but Chris quickly steps to the side, foot flying off the mat and slamming into Bo’s right thigh with a Miami sidekick, dropping Bo down to his knees. Stepping in next to his much larger opponent, Wilson takes hold of Bo’s ankle, keeping the leg bent, and pulling him up to one foot. Bo hops for a moment to keep his balance, but Wilson lifts him up into the air, dropping a kneeling position, and brings Bo’s leg down over one extended knee, causing the perfect one to stumble away in pain, reaching down to hold his leg. Wilson moves in to continue the attack, throwing a right hand at Bo. Bo releases his leg, throwing his right hand up in time to block the punch from Wilson, and fires back with a swift right, strong enough to knock Wilson back off his feet and down to the mat.

“And it looks like a worried Chris Wilson wants this over right now, trying a blatant low blow and a thumb to the eye in an attempt to draw the DQ and hold on to his title” Stevens voice is dripping with disdain for such a tactic as he continues, verbally tearing apart Wilson. “For a competitor on the level of Wilson, this is disgraceful. This, from a man who thinks he’s a world title contender.”

“Well, your little buddy MacPhisto sure didn’t want anything to do with him.” Bobby points out. “With the Carnival coming apart at the seams, and a couple losses in the recent past thanks to biased officiating and one british loon, Wilson knows he’s got to do whatever it takes to get a hold of what is rightfully his.”

“Bobby, you’re talking about a man who has arranged countless one-sided beatdowns and is unafraid to wrap piano wire around his opponent’s necks in the backstage to get a win.”

“Yeah. Just think what he’ll do now that being disqualified means he keeps that ICTV gold around his waist? If you can wrap your carnie-addled mind around it.”

In the ring, Bo shakes his leg, beginning to move towards the rising Wilson, a bit of a limp starting to show. He looks into the evil Mastermind’s eyes, and Wilson rushes at the limping Bo, only to have Bo duck low and sweep his smaller body into the air, spinning around on one leg and taking Wilson up overhead, and then quickly back to the mat with a fluid powerslam, shaking the mat. Reaching over, the Perfect one hooks Wilson’s leg, and the referee slides into position again to count the fall.

ONE!

.

TWO!

.

Wilson throws his hand into the air, Shoulder rising off the mat and denying Bo once again. Bo lifts himself off of Wilson’s body, but just enough so he can start raining punches on the face of the evil mastermind, drawing boos from the crowd, clearly not always sure just who to hate in this match. The ref slaps Bo on the shoulder, and the Perfect one rises completely, grabbing hold of Wilson as he does to get both men up to a vertical base. Releasing Wilson, Bo watches as the leader of the magnificent seven stumbles in a small circle, and ducks down a bit, getting prepared. Wilson turns towards Bo, still leaning over slightly, and Bo rushes in, grabbing around the evil genius’s neck, throwing his body into the air and spinning, bringing Wilsons body around and down to the mat with a swinging neckbreaker.

“And Perfect Bo continues to dominate Chris Wilson, bearing him down to the mat once again, though he’s obviously favoring that leg, using quick, low to the mat moves to bring down Wilson as opposed to suplexes or holds that would put pressure on the leg.”

Bobby Riley chimes in, quite chipper about Wilson’s tactics. “Well, if you can’t get the match thrown out, all that’s left is to win. Wilson’s using his head here, attacking Bo in a manner that will disable a great deal of his offense, and allow Wilson’s speed to help him escape Bo when necessary. You have to admit, it’s fairly genius.”

Both men are down on the mat, though Bo seems to be recovering faster. Beginning to come to his feet, Bo stumbles for a moment, going back down to one knee as his leg has trouble supporting all his weight. Wilson makes use of this time to bring himself up to a standing position, both men getting finally getting their legs under them at just about the same moment. Bo steps towards Wilson cautiously, grabbing the M7 leader in a collar and elbow tie up. Wilson tries to force Bo down, putting all his weight towards pressuring the Perfect one’s bad leg, but Bo overpowers the smaller man, forcing him back against the ropes. Both men hold tight, and the ref rushes in to break them apart. After a moment, Bo does release the hold, stepping back just a bit, only to explode forward with a fierce clothesline, sending Wilson tumbling over the top rope and to the outside.

Wilson comes to his feet, backing away towards the timekeepers desk as Bo makes his way onto the apron, distancing himself from the creative control member as much as possible. Bo steps down off the apron, following Wilson, not noticing as the evil genius grabs hold of the ring bell, still facing towards the crowd, bell hidden in his grasp. A hand comes down on Wilson’s shoulder, and Bo spins him around, only to be met by a low swing as the ringbell comes crashing into his knee, sending him to the ground clutching his leg in pain. Wilson looks up, only to see the referee making his way through the ropes, not seeing the illegal shot with the bell. Wilson curses, letting the bell fall from his hands, and reaching down towards Bo.

Riley seems ecstatic as he speaks. “Did you see the presence of Wilson? He knew the ref would be looking away, and took advantage by cracking the bell right across the knee of Bo. An amazing feat, since most men would have drawn the DQ right there.”

“Riley, he was TRYING to get this match thrown out. Wilson has wanted a disqualification since he felt the first power move from Bo, and the referee looking away was the opposite of his intention. I guess luck is ironic that way, striking when it’s sought after the least, and Wilson has to take what he can get in this case.”

“Oh, well….. Still, that can’t be good for Bo, right?”

“No, Bobby. It can’t.”

The referee makes his way over to Wilson, reaching him by about the fifth hard kick to Bo’s knee. Signaling that both men should return to the ring, but Wilson dismisses him and continues to assault the Perfect One, obviously not caring if he gets counted out of the match. The ref continues to yell at Wilson, but it swiftly becomes evident that the Evil Mastermind is not going to listen. The ref rolls back into the ring, beginning the ten count.

ONE!

Wilson continues to assault Bo, forcing the Perfect One back against the timekeepers table, firing off a hard knee into the thigh of his the angry Puerto Rican grappler.

TWO!

Turning back just long enough to look towards the ring steps, Wilson takes hold of Bo’s arm, drawing back and whipping the big man towards the stairs, keeping him standing so that his legs crash into the unforgiving steel, and Bo flips over to the mats with a loud smack, fans booing vehemently.

THREE!

Moving around the steel steps even before the clatter has completely died down, Wilson quickly makes his way to the downed Bo, kicking out hard at the Bo’s leg even as the perfect one clutches it in pain, rolling to the side to try to escape the assault.

FOUR!

Reaching down, Wilson snatches Bo up to his feet, sending a hard forearm across his back and stumbling him against the guardrail. Moving in to follow, Wilson is caught off guard as the perfect one throws his body back, slamming his elbow into the face of the smaller man, backing him against the apron, clutching his face in pain.

FIVE!

Turning and marching towards the apron, Bo grabs hold of the ropes, beginning to pull himself up into the ring. Just as he is about to bring himself through the ropes, Wilson takes hold of his leg, tugging back to keep him from breaking the count.

SIX!

Dropping back off the apron, the Perfect one turns around to face Wilson, looking down at the much smaller man, fans booing as the count continues, Bo ignoring them and firing off a hard forearm to Wilson’s facing, backing him against the guardrail now, and marching over towards the evil genius.

SEVEN!

Continuing to batter Wilson, Bo sends a series of hard punches across the face and jaw of the evil mastermind, causing the smaller man’s legs to buckle, leaving him leaning against the rail for support.

EIGHT!

Taunting Wilson, the Perfect One takes hold of the evil geniuses arm, motioning around his waist with his free hand, insisting that the outcome to this match is quite certain. Leaning back, Bo whips Wilson towards the ring apron, hard.

NINE!

Spinning around, Wilson holds onto Bo’s arm, whipping him off hard instead out of instinct, and sending Bo running. Wilson’s eyes open wide in shock, and the fans let out a loud cheer as Bo ducks low, sliding into the ring under the bottom rope, successfully breaking the count just before the referee can count ten, and call for an end to the match. Wilson curses, moving towards the announce table as Bo recovers for a moment in the ring.

“And it looks like luck once again ran out for Wilson,” Stevens postulates, “as he made a move out of pure instinct, allowing Bo to escape back into the ring and break the count which would have kept the ICTV belt around Wilson’s waist.”

“Wilson just can’t get a break, but he did some serious damage to Bo on the outside, particularly with that hard whip into the stairs. And look at this, Stevens, he’s making his way over here right now. Probably to thank me for all my gracious support of him.”

Indeed, Wilson makes his way straight to Bobby Riley, and the heel announce man rises to his feet, extending both arms for a great big hug from Wilson. Chris scowls, and blows past Riley just long enough to snatch up the chair he had been sitting in, folding it flat as he turns back towards the ring.

Stevens speaks up, laughing a bit in the time it takes Wilson to move across the protective floor mats towards the apron. “Well, avoiding Bobby Riley. I never thought I’d say this, but that’s a pretty admirable move from Chris Wilson. I know I wish I could keep Riley away from me.”

Going down to his knees behind the announce desk, Riley rests his hands on his arms and smiles. “Hey, anything to help out Wilson.”

Wilson pulls himself up onto the apron, chair in hand, and the ref makes his way over, pointing outside of the ring and shaking his head. Wilson scowls, raising the chair overhead and turning towards the ref, but is caught off guard as Bo rushes forward, slamming his left hand across Wilson’s jaw, and causing the chair to fall down to the outside, propping itself up against the apron. Reaching out, Bo grabs Wilson’s hair, dragging him into the ring over the top rope. Looking even angrier than usual, Bo pulls Wilson up to his knees, hands choking at the throat of the M7 leader. The ref rushes in, shoving at the shoulder of the Perfect One, trying to break both men apart.

Bo continues to squeeze his fingers around Wilson’s throat, turning to the ref quite angrily, locking eyes with the ref and cursing for a few seconds as the fans boo. The boos only become louder as Wilson comes up on his knees, driving his arm up between the legs of Bo, doubling over the big man and breaking the chokehold, allowing him to cough and rub his neck in pain. Bo stumbles back a step, and the ref turns towards Wilson, questioningly. Wilson ignores him once again, stepping forward and grabbing Bo around the calves, tipping Bo over onto his back, and raising both feet up into the air. The fans jeer as Wilson moves steps over Bo with one leg, obviously setting up for the figure four.

Stevens is quite vocal now, voice ringing out over the action. “It looked like Bo was going to squeeze Wilson till this match was over, but Wilson counters, and now he’s setting up a move that both of these men know all too well, trying to lock in the figure four on Bo, and DESTROY that injured knee! What do you think, Bobby?”

“The floor hurts my ass.”

“Ladies and gentlemen, THAT is the man I have to work with every day.”

Bending Bo’s leg, Wilson has the hold ready, but Bo is fighting, rolling from side to side, and trying to keep the evil genius from locking in the hold. Wilson holds him steady, falling back so his body lies out from Bo towards the corner, the perfect one nearly right in the center of the ring. Laying flat on the mat, Wilson places his knee over the extended ankle of the Perfect One, locking his foot underneath his own ankle and throwing his body back again, causing Bo to cry out in pain, and the fans to erupt with boos. The ref drops down to the mat, staying close to Bo, watching the Perfect one’s face and asking if he submits. Bo shakes his head, but he cries out as Wilson continues to wrench back, throwing his body against the mat and hyper-extending the injured leg of Bo, not hearing the raucous booing of the crowd, only hearing Bo’s cries of pain.

Wilson holds Bo in place, and throws his body back, over and over, finally causing Bo to fall back against the mat, terrible pain getting to him. As his shoulders touch the mat, the ref raises his hand, moving to count the pinfall.

ONE!

.

TWO!

.

And Bo throws his shoulders up off the mat, crowd reaction split. Some fans jeer at the Perfect One’s continued survival and resilience, while others cheer for the denial of a victory for Wilson. The sinister mastermind pulls back stiffly on Bo’s ankle, throwing his body back once more, and again causing Bo to fall back in pain, shoulders striking the mat.

ONE!

.

TWO!

.

THRE – NO!

Bo throws his body up off the mat once more, again denying Wilson, and again drawing a strictly mixed reaction from the crowd. Wilson is enraged, and he tears at the ankle, throwing his body back over and over, rapidly, ripping and wrenching at the ankle.

“Look at Wilson!” Riley exclaims. “He knows that he has Bo right where he wants him, and with the figure four, that most devastating of maneuvers locked on, it’s only a matter of time before Bo cracks under the pressure and gives in once and for all.”

“Or his ankle will snap in two, Riley, and he still won’t care.” Grand Slam interjects. “No matter the outcome of this match, I’ve made it no secret I’ll still hate our ICTV champ, but Bo is showing tremendous fortitude right now. He’s been in that hold for over a minute now, and he just won’t give in, leading to more frustration from Wilson.”

In the ring, Bo rolls to the side, trying desperately to flip Wilson over. The evil genius fights back, wrenching the leg of Bo just as he is about to roll up onto his side, causing him to fall back again. The angry Bo rolls away to the other side, but again, Wilson is ready, tearing at the leg and crying out for Bo to submit. The referee leans in close, but Bo shakes his head, rolling up and reaching out towards Wilson, unsuccessfully. The ref continues to check, but the Perfect One audibly cries out no, and finally, frustrated beyond belief, Wilson breaks the hold, rolling back away from Bo and towards the apron as Bo clutches his leg in pain, rolling from side to side.

Leaning in close, the referee checks on Bo, but the Perfect One shoves him away, rolling up to a sitting position. The ref approaches once again, and Wilson reaches the apron, reaching out side and wrapping his fingers around the chair that fell there earlier. Bo comes up to his feet, barely able to maintain his balance, and the referee continues to check on him, causing the angry Bo to shove him away more fiercely, sending him stumbling to the ropes. Looking up, Bo tries to find Wilson with his eyes….

…. Only to have a rushing Wilson crush a steel chair across his face, dropping him right back down to the mat. The fans erupt with boos, and Wilson turns away as Bo collapses backwards, just in time for the referee to turn around and spot the evil mastermind with chair in hand. Wilson steps over towards the ref, raising the chair in his hand, pointing at it, and then back behind him towards Bo as he curses aloud. The ref shakes his head, absolutely refusing to disqualify Wilson. Wilson stomps his foot in frustration, and throws the chair aside while he continue sot argue with the ref, not turning as some sections of the arena erupt in a loud cheer, and not seeing Bo as he rises, looking angrier than ever, and seemingly unfazed by the chairshot.

Riley’s voice is full of shock as he speaks, obviously not expecting this turn of events. “Woah! Bo is up, and he doesn’t seem to be hurt at all. If Wilson doesn’t turn around RIGHT NOWT, he’s in big trouble.”

“Right you are, Riley. Bo’s taken a lot of blatant cheating from Wilson this match, but when it was one on one, the Perfect One has dominated. I think he’s getting set to do it again, right now.”

Bo limps over to Wilson, standing tall behind the smaller man, and glaring at the ref, causing said official to back away towards the ropes in fear. Wilson stops, and turns around very slowly, peering up into the eyes of the larger man. The angry Puerto Rican thrusts his hand out and jerks Wilson into a front facelock, throwing himself back and SPIKING Wilson’s head to the mat with a DDT. The impact shakes the ring, and Bo holds on, using his free hand on the ropes to pull both men to a standing position once more. Throwing himself back, Bo drives Wilson’s skull into the mat a second time, impact shaking the ring as he releases, allowing Wilson to flip over with the impact, barely having the energy to reach up and clutch his skull in pain.

Coming to his feet, Bo moves like a man possessed, only slightly limping on his bad leg as he approaches the corner, waiting for Wilson to rise. After a moment, the evil genius rises to his feet, stumbling slightly, and turning towards Bo. The perfect one steps forward and grabs Wilson around the waist, using one hand on the ropes to balance himself, and still managing to heft Wilson into the air, dropping him down to straddle the turnbuckle. Stepping onto the ropes, Bo climbs to the top, throwing Wilson’s arm over his shoulder and pulling him into a front facebuster.

“Bo is coming back strong against Wilson, and now he has him up top, in preparation for the ‘Perfect Death’! If he hits this, with his power advantage, Wilson won’t be getting up after three hours, let alone three seconds.”

Riley seems to agree, not sure whether to be concerned for Wilson or elated for Bo. “It is a fantastic feat from the Perfect One. But Bo had better be careful. Wilson has kept the pressure on that leg, and if Bo isn’t careful…”

As Riley speaks, Bo hefts Wilson into the air, getting him up overhead, feet balancing on the top rope. Holding Wilson overhead for just one second, Bo cries out in pain, cutting off Riley’s thought as his leg gives out, causing him to fall back off the ropes, Wilson managing to slide down out of the hold and down to the apron. Stepping in through the ropes, Wilson takes hold of the facedown Bo, locking him in a full nelson, and leaning back, lifting with all his strength till he gets the Perfect One into a standing full nelson, the crowd hissing and booing. Looking from side to side, the ICTV champ lifts Bo up off his feet just slightly, and throws his body forward, slamming Bo down to the mat with the Platinum Nightmare.

Both men down, Wilson reaches over and rolls Bo onto his back, throwing his body over the perfect one, accompanied by the boos of the entire arena. The referee slides into place, and a hush of anticipation falls over the crowd, a few fans chanting along with the count.

ONE!

.

TWO!

.

THREE!

*DINGDINGDING*

A rush of heat goes through the arena as Wilson rises to his feet, only to be handed the ICTV title moments later. Shoving the ref away, Wilson bails out of the ring, and not a moment too soon, as a still fuming Bo is up on his knees, glaring at the man who is still champ.

Stevens is first to speak up with his summary of the matchup. “One hell of a main event, with Wilson cheating at every turn, and Perfect Bo not giving in to his assault. In that Figure four for a long time, and he didn’t tap out. It took a bad leg and a platinum nightmare for Chris Wilson to take this matchup, and you have to admire the fortitude of Perfect Bo, even if it didn’t net him the win this once.”

“That’s right, Stevens. Wilson is MAGNIFICENT *snicker* as always, and he pulls out another amazing victory. I’m sure this will be one more step in Wilson’s journey to the world title one more time.”

“Well, we’ll see on the next great night of SWF action, because that’s all our time for tonight. Thank you for tuning in, all you great fans. We’re out of time, so I’m Grand Slam Mark Stevens, and for all the SWF superstars, and Bobby Riley…”

“… My ass REALLY hurts.”

“…Thank you and goodnight.”

With that, another episode of SWF action comes to a close, fading to some commercial goodness. Hurray.

August 31, 2002

Summary:

- Sit down my friends and I shall regale you with a tale of…oh, no…Edwin’s telling the story. And after about 5000 words, Raynor hates Edwin now…Thoth is sticking up for Edwin, and pigs just flew out of Cutthroat’s BUTT.

- Something’s beginning, but we still don’t know. I wonder if it’s a nice big cup of coffee to help the booking committee stay awake?

TAG TEAM MATCH

Tom Flesher & Silent vs. Annie Eclectic & Thoth

- Gee, there’s a surprise. Silent’s cane played a part in the match as he managed to hit Annie with it before Flesher obliterated her with a top rope Boilermaker. Not a nice thing to do…very painful. Anyway, The all-Clan team picks up the win. Is Thoth out of the Clan now or what?

NO-DQ SINGLES MATCH

Chris Raynor vs. Z

- And another top rope finisher does in Z as the less crowd friendly version of Chris Raynor crushes him with the top rope Acid Rayn.

- Some jabbering between Frost and Ash Ketchum ends up being a challenge…will the booking team notice? Probably not. Hee Hee.

SINGLES MATCH

Frost vs. Xero

- And suddenly a tag team on the rise is no more, as Danny Williams turns on Xero to help Frost pick up the win. We all knew it was just a matter of time since Danny is a member of the Magnificent 7….the bastard.

- Tom Flesher is a dumb ass…Ooooo, look! A dog with a poofy tail! Worst Episode Ever.

TAG MATCH

Longdogger Pete & Renegade vs. Jay Dawg & Sacred

- Renegade probably should have done a better job protecting his shoulder because if he had, he would have been able to save LDP from the Dawg Trap. But, alas, he didn’t…and LDP was forced to tap. Jay Dawg is mean.

SINGLES MATCH

The Boston Strangler vs. Tod deKindes

- See Tom, cheaters never prosper. And your little interference allowed Tod to pick up a big win.

SINGLES MATCH

El Luchadore Magnifico vs. Lerrin Breggan

- Baja California Crusher and BAM…ELM picks up the win. Lerrin wasn’t quite happy with that, so he beat up ELM after the match. Damn CC members throwing their weight around.

- Note Stubby: Divefire hates you and he’s going to kill you.

ICTV TITLE MATCH

- Hmmm, someone’s the ICTV champ after this. Why don’t you read it and find out bitches.

NOTE: The more tired I get, the shorter my summaries are. Let’s try to get those matches in earlier people…don’t like staying up till dawn.

SWF Storm (August 30/2002)

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