SWF Smarkdown (Sept. 2/2002)

[Guest BA_Baracus]

[Loud music booms through the darkened arena.

 

Suddenly a series of 6 large yellowish pyros explode one after another from the left side of the stage to the right. As soon as they're done another bunch of orange-ish pyros burst across the stage from the right side back to the left as the Smarkdown logo appears on the SWF-tron.

 

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

 

Mark Stevens - Here we are once again for SWF Smarkdown!

 

Bobby Riley - Brought to you by Tampax tampons!

 

Stevens - Ha ha...good one.

 

Riley - I was serious.

 

Stevens - Oh...well, as long as they don't make me discuss "freshness". On with the SWF action!

[Guest BA_Baracus]

Singles Match

“Deathwish” Danny Williams vs. Xero

- A very promising tag team met its ultimate demise on Storm as the Magnificent 7 member, Danny Williams, turned on his tag partner when he helped Frost defeat Xero. This Monday, Danny and Xero will go head to head…Oh the tension!

 

US Title Match

Tom Flesher © vs. Tod deKindes

- At Apocalypes, Tod deKindes was one of many people that attacked the reigning US champ, Tom Flesher, and on Storm, Tom was rightly perturbed about Tod wanting his US title. Well after Tom’s botched interference resulted in deKindes picking up a big win over The Boston Strangler on Storm, Tod will get his chance this Monday night!

 

Singles Match

Ash Ketchum vs. Frost

- Frost was able to beat Ash Ketchum into a bloody pulp a few weeks back in a match where Frost’s hands were handcuffed behind him. Ash claims that it was only from the help of Frost’s M7 ally, TNT, that allowed Frost to do such harm, and Ash also claims that he can defeat Frost one on one. So, there’s only one way to settle this…A MATCH!

 

3-Way Hardcore Elimination Match for the SWF Hardcore Title

Jay Dawg© vs. Annie Eclectic vs. Silent

- At Apocalypse, Annie and Silent were unable to determine a #1 contender for the Hardcore Title, as Silent left Annie looking like a corpse, and then took his ball and went home. Meanwhile, the reigning hardcore god, Jay Dawg, did the unthinkable and took out (for a second time) the less than 100% Hville Thugg, with a little help from the returning Divefire. Without a specific #1 contender, JD will defend against both Annie and Silent. JD has brutally beaten Annie on multiple occasions, but he hasn’t been able to defeat the Silent One yet. Will JD defeat both and come closer to cementing his place in history as the greatest Hardcore Champ ever, or will Silent get closer to his #1 goal, Edwin MacPhisto, in the form of capturing the Hardcore Title? Or, maybe Annie will pull the upset and knock out both men…something’s she’s wanted to do for a long time.

- Match Rules: DQ and countout rules are NOT in effect, and pinfalls, submissions, or knockouts can occur anywhere in the arena. The first participant pinned is eliminated and may not interfere further in the match, although, it IS no DQ, so I suppose they can if they felt so inclined.

 

Handicapped Match

Chris Wilson & Chris Raynor vs. El Luchadore Magnifico

- This is part one of commissioner Stubby’s grand plan as there is a World Heavyweight Title set for next weeks Storm pitting Edwin MacPhisto against the #1 contender, El Luchadore Magnifico. Stubby is quite happy to see the Midnight Carnival at odds as of late, but he’s not happy that the Carnival will keep the World Title in their possession no matter who wins the strap next week. So, in hopes of softening the two up and possibly injuring one of them, Stubby made 2 matches. This one is the first, as the #1 contender, ELM, must face Chris Wilson (an avid Carnie hater) and Chris Raynor (who has recently seen the light…the evil light that is) in a handicapped match. After this brutal encounter, how much will ELM have left in the tank when he goes up against the tormented Edwin MacPhisto next week? Will Chris Raynor see Edwin in ELM and take out his frustrations on the kooky luchadore? Should be fun…if you’re a member of Creative Control that is.

- Match Rules: DQ and countout rules ARE in effect, and pinfalls, submissions, and knockouts must occur in the ring. Wilson and Raynor may both be in the ring at the same time, and do not need to tag in or out. This is why it’s painful to be a Carnie these days.

 

MAIN EVENT

Steel Cage Match

Edwin MacPhisto vs. Sacred

Ringside Assistant: Lerrin Breggan

- This is part 2 of Stubby’s grand plan, as he’s pitted the world champ against his perennial stopper and most consistent veteran, Sacred. Being the bastard that he is, Stubby wants Edwin ailing going into next weeks world title match in hopes that somehow, CC can benefit, so he made this match a cage match. And, to top it off, Stubby has ordered his monster, Lerrin Breggan to be at ringside to be of some assistance to the referees outside the cage. Will the world champ even be able to survive this encounter to be able to fight ELM next week, or will CC finally dispose of the crowned prince once and for all on Smarkdown? The task seems near impossible for Edwin with Breggan standing at ringside…but maybe Breggan will let Edwin escape the cage so he can pound him into oblivion. Who knows, but it should be a doosey!

- Match Rules: DQ and countout rules are NOT in effect, and there are no pinfalls, submissions, or knockouts. The cage door will be locked and bolted at the start of the match, and will not be opened until a winner has been decided. The winner is the first person to escape the cage, via over the top, and touch BOTH feet on the floor.

[Guest BA_Baracus]

Stevens: Welcome to another exciting addition of SWF Smarkdown! We have tons of great matches lined up tonight, but right now were kicking things off with a grudge match between former tag team partners, Danny Williams and Xero.

 

Riley: This all started when Danny Williams realized what I already knew, that Xero sucks and that he was holding him back.

 

Stevens: Need I remind you that these two have meet before in the squared circle, and that Xero technically pinned Williams’ shoulders to the mat for the three count.

 

Riley: The match was ruled a draw, Stevens. Besides, The only reason Xero was even able to pull Williams into that damn Schoolboy Pin was with the aid of Danny’s tights. But tonight, Williams will prove that he is the better man and MVP of the team by defeating his leach of a former partner.

 

Stevens: If your done ranting, Funyon is ready with the introductions.

 

The camera cuts to the always sharp dressed Funyon who is standing with perfect posture in the center of the ring.

 

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

 

The thumping bass line of Dillinger Escape Plan’s “Calculating Infinity” blasts over the loud speakers, setting off an onslaught of “boos” and jeers. Danny Williams emerges from behind the curtain, and slowly walks to the platform. The “boos” become noticeably louder as the fans catch sight of the hated grappler. Williams seems very relaxed as he very slowly makes his way to the ring. Williams uses the steps to the enter the ring, and once inside starts warming up.

 

Funyon: And his opponent, weighing in at 199 pounds and hailing from ..................XEROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

 

Suddenly the arena goes pitch black as the intro of "Master of Puppets" drowns out all the sound of the arena. After a few seconds, the music fades to black. Suddenly the chorus starts to play and the words are heard "OBEY YOUR MASTER!" Xero emerges from the dark, sparking some cheers from the crowd. Red fireworks explode from each side, as Xero heads down towards the ring.

 

Funyon: Tonight’s official will be Nick Soapdish.

 

Funyon exits the ring, and Soapdish calls for the bell.

 

DING! DING! DING! The audience applauds as Williams and Xero step out of their corners. The two pause and have a brief stare down, before they start circling each other in the center of the ring. The applause turns into a clear “Xero! Xero! Xero!” chant. Williams and Xero stop circling each other and lock up in a collar elbow tie up! Xero gains the advantage with a swift Armdrag! Williams hits the mat, but gets right back up and charges Xero like a bull! Xero takes him right back down with a deep Armdrag, and this time locks on an Armbar!

 

Riley: Come on Soapdish, Xero had a handful of hair!

 

Stevens: Are you kidding? Williams shaves his head to avoid hair pulling, Xero couldn’t grab any if he wanted to.

 

Williams rolls away from the pressure, and gets back to a vertical base. Williams uses his weight advantage to push Xero into the ropes. Knowing the rules, Xero releases Williams’ arm before Soapdish can start the count. Smack! Williams slices Xero’s chest with a brutal knife edge chop! Xero’s eyes light up with pain and shock from the unexpected strike.

 

Stevens: Williams resulting to cheap shots, early.

 

Riley: Cheap shots? It’s not Williams’ fault that Xero wasn’t paying attention. Besides, chops are legal, unlike hair pulling.

 

Smack! Williams chops Xero again, and shoots him off the ropes with an Irishwhip. Williams takes position in the center of the ring, and swings a Back Elbow as Xero bounces back! Xero ducks and bounces off the ropes again, gaining speed. Williams spins around only to get nailed with a Spinning Heel Kick! Xero does a kip up, and gets ready to dish out some more punishment. Instead of getting up, Williams rolls out of the ring and paces around. Xero relaxes, and raises his arms to the accompaniment of cheers.

 

Riley: Similar to a quarterback calling a time out, Williams exits the ring to regroup.

 

Williams puts a knee on the apron, and attempts to climb in but Xero rushes at him! Williams jumps down from the apron, throws his arms in the air in disgust, and moans “Fuck this.” Williams turns his back to the ring, and starts making his way towards the exit ramp. Xero sarcastically waves goodbye to Williams, while the crowd chants “DANNY’S A PUSSY!”

 

Stevens: But Quarterbacks don’t walk out of the arena in the middle of the game.

 

Riley: Well with Soapdish’s one sided officiating, can you blame him?

 

Soapdish rolls out of the ring and cuts Danny off. Soapdish points to the ring, and orders Williams to get back in and finish the match. Williams responds with a profanity laced complaint about Xero not letting him in the ring. Soapdish nods his head and rolls into the ring. Soapdish gets between Xero and the ropes, prompting Williams to attempt reentry into the ring. Xero just rolls his eyes, and steps back to the other side of the ring and waits. Williams cautiously enters the ring, and Xero approaches him with confidence. Williams and Xero step up toe to toe, and lock up in a collar elbow tieup. Williams gains the advantage of the grapple with a Side Headlock. Xero immediately slips out of the Williams’ grasp, and locks on a Hammerlock. Williams looks for an elbow, but Xero is in too good of a position to be hit. Williams walks Xero in a circle, as he ponders escape. Williams gets an idea, and stops pacing. “HUUUUUUR!” grunts Williams as he powers out of the hammerlock, and puts Xero into one. Xero reaches behind Williams’ head, and jumps straight up into the air. Xero lands on his knees, taking Williams’ over with the modified Snapmare!

 

Stevens: WHAT A REVERSAL!

 

Riley: Made possible by a handful of hair!

 

A surprised Williams scrambles to his feet, only to get caught with a kick to the midsection! Williams doubles over, and Xero locks on a front facelock!

 

Stevens: PURGATORY!

 

Before Xero can fall back, Williams wraps his arms around his waist and lifts the skinny high flyer into the air! Williams runs Xero into a corner, squashing his small frame into the turnbuckles!

 

Riley: Master of the DDT, my ass!

 

Williams hooks Xero’s arms behind the top rope, and slashes his chest with a stinging Knife Edge Chop! Smack! Williams fires another chop! Smack! Xero almost goes over the top rope from the impact. Williams draws back his hand extra far, and hammers Xero with an even harder chop! SMACK! Xero’s chest is now blood red, and he’s about ready to pass out.

 

Stevens: Dear God, I can’t believe how hard those chops are.

 

Williams shoots the battered Xero out of the corner with an Irishwhip! THUMP! Xero crashes back first into the cross corner, and comes staggering out like a drunk! Williams charges out of the corner, and nearly decapitates Xero with a brutal Hooking Clothesline! Williams covers Xero with the lateral press, and Soapdish starts the count.

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

NO! Xero kicks out with authority! Xero sits up, and Williams quickly traps him in a Chinlock. The muscles in Williams’ forearms twitch as he tightens his grip on Xero’s head, and secretly his throat. Xero’s face turns purple and his eyes roll up in his head from the cleverly disguised illegal chokehold. Xero swings his arms wildy behind his head trying to pull Williams off, but his hands can only find the sharp stubble on the top of Williams’ head.

 

Riley: Do you see that?

 

Stevens: See what?

 

Riley: Xero is still trying to pull Williams’ hair.

 

Stevens: I’d say that’s just a reflex action from being choked..

 

Riley: Two wrongs don’t make a right, Stevens.

 

Soapdish kneels down beside Xero so he can clearly hear if he wants to submit. Williams quickly modifies the choke into a legal chinlock. Williams than gets a sneaky look in his eyes, and cautiously places both his boots on the second rope. The added leverage does the trick, sending Xero into leg kicking spasms.

 

Stevens: Come on Nick, Look up! Williams is just raping the rookie official.

 

Riley: Hey! I never............Oh, what are you blabbering about now?

 

Stevens: You can’t see that Williams has his boots on the ropes?

 

Riley: No, I’am tying my shoe!

 

The pissed fans start to shout at Soapdish, which is enough to make him suspicious. Soapdish looks up, but Williams gets his legs off the ropes just in time. Soapdish notices the ropes shaking, but since he didn’t catch Williams in the act there is nothing he can do. Xero quits kicking his legs, and his limbs start to go limp. Soapdish kneels back down so he can examine Xero, and Williams takes advantage. Once again, Williams places both of his boots on the second rope.

 

Stevens: Look, he’s doing it again!

 

Riley: Can’t you see that I’am busy tying my other shoe.

 

The annoyed fans start shouting curses at Soapdish once again, prompting him to take another look up. Williams quickly takes his legs off the ropes, before Soapdish can catch him. Xero’s eyes close, and his body goes completely limp. Soapdish raises Xero’s arm, and lets it drop back to the mat. Soapdish raises one finger to the crowd, and lifts Xero’s arm again. Soapdish lets go, and it drops lifelessly to the mat. Soapdish raises two fingers to the crowd, and lifts Xero’s arm up once more. It drops, but than rises again!

 

Riley: That’s impossible, Williams choked him........I mean wore him out with a legal chinlock

 

The excited fans encourage Xero with a heart felt cheer. “XERO!” BOOM! BOOM! “XERO!” BOOM! BOOM! Xero feeds off the energy of the crowd, and starts shaking all four of his limbs to get the blood circulation going again. Williams’ tightens the hold and jerks Xero’s head around, but he can’t stop Xero’s adrenaline rush!

 

Stevens: The support of the fans has given Xero the energy he needs to fight out of the hold.

 

Riley: What the hell is going on? Did we go through a 1980s timewarp or something?

 

Xero frantically climbs back to a vertical base, forcing Williams to adjust the Chinlock to a Side Headlock. Xero takes advantage of the new space, and starts driving elbows into Williams’ gut. Williams releases Xero from the headlock, and jams a couple of elbows into his jaw! Crack! Crack! Williams scoop slams the punch drunk Xero, and gives him a stiff kick to the lower back! Smack! Xero’s face wrinkles in agony while Williams stands over him with a sadistic smile on his face.

 

Riley: OUCH! That’s gonna leave mark.

 

Stevens: It looked like Xero was starting to build some momentum, and maybe make a come back attempt. But Williams just falls right back on his trusty elbows, and wisely keeps Xero on the mat with that sickening hard kick.

 

Xero rolls over on his back to avoid taking any further kicks to the back. Williams tauntingly nudges Xero’s face with his boot. Williams jerks Xero up by his tights, and traps him in a back waistlock!

 

Riley: Williams going for the GERMAN!

 

Xero rushes to the ropes, and embraces them. Williams releases Xero, spins him around, and unloads some chops! Smack! Smack! Smack! Williams takes the wobbly Xero down with a Fireman Carry, and grabs his arm for a Cross Arm Breaker! Williams tries to fall back, but Xero wisely locks his hands together.

 

Stevens: All Williams needs to do is fall back and scissor the arm, but Xero is not cooperating.

 

Riley: If Williams can successfully lock the hold on and keep Xero away from the ropes, than this match is as good as over.

 

Stevens: That’s right, the Cross Armbreaker is one of the most painful and dangerous submission holds in the history of our sport. If applied correctly it can hyper extend an elbow, and snap your arm right in half. Even Super Heavyweight monsters like Andre the Giant and Vadar have tapped out to the hold.

 

Unable to lock the hold on, Williams becomes frustrated and opts to just drop a knee right on Xero’s face! Xero grabs his nose, and stomps his boots in pain.

 

Riley: It may not be as fancy as a Cross Armbreaker, but knee drops can be just as effective.

 

Stevens: Especially the dickish knee drops that Williams is using.

 

Williams jerks Xero up by his wrist, and pushes him into the ropes. Williams sends Xero running with an Irishwhip, and takes position near the center of the ring. Xero bounces off the ropes, and Williams catches him in a Sleeper! “BOOOOOOOOO!”

 

Riley: THE UNESCAPABLE SLEEPERHOLD OF INEVITABLE DOOM!

 

Stevens: Finall ! Williams returns to his successful strategy of the first match. He knows Xero still has some fight left in him, so he’s going to try to wear him down with the Sleeperhold.

 

As soon as Williams slaps the hold on, Xero darts for a corner. Xero ducks down, pulling Williams’ face down into the turnbuckle! The fans applaud the come back attempt.

 

Riley: Crap!

 

Stevens: Well that sure didn’t last long. I guess Xero has learned a trick or two since their last match.

 

Williams releases Xero, and staggers out of the corner holding his face. Xero hops on to the second rope of the corner, and waits for Williams to turn around. Williams regains the feeling in his face and spins around, cuing Xero to soar out of the corner! Xero catches Williams in a front facelock, and uses the momentum to twist him around.

 

Stevens: TORNADOOOOOO DDT!

 

Williams just keeps his boots planted in the mat, and tosses Xero across the ring like a ragdoll!

 

Riley: You suck Stevens! I think your miss calls are jinxing Xero.

 

Xero hits the mat with a ring shaking thud, and desperately tries to scramble to his feet. CRACK! Williams lays Xero out of with a nasty Running Elbow, as soon as he gets up! Sweat particles fly from Xero’s head as it snaps back like it took a shot gun blast.

 

Riley: RUNNING ELBOW! RUNNING ELBOW! RUNNING ELBOOOOOOOOOOOOW!

 

Stevens: Just have a damn orgasm over it, Jesus Christ!

 

Xero crumbles to the mat, and Williams covers him for the pin. The crowd goes dead silent, as Soapdish starts the count.

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

THR-NO! Xero kicks out! Staying positive, the fans give a small applause. Williams climbs to his feet, and takes an opportunity to adjust his wrist tape. After fixing his wristtape, Williams pulls Xero up by his tights and locks on a back waistlock. Williams bends his knees, and lifts Xero up with ease! Thump! Williams snaps back, slamming Xero’s upperback into the mat! Williams holds the bridge, and Soapdish starts the count.

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

THREE!

 

NO! Xero kicks out of the waistlock, at the last second. With a snug smile on his face, Williams stands up and signals that Xero is finished. “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” Williams pulls Xero up into a standing head scissors, and locks his arms around his waist. Still wearing a big grin, Williams looks around the arena as the fans shout insults and taunts. Williams bends his knees, and lifts Xero on to his shoulders!

 

Riley: DEATHBOOOOOOOOMB!

 

Xero comes back to life, and unloads of fury of right hands into Williams’ face.

 

Stevens: NO! Xero is fighting back!

 

Riley: With illegal right hands! Damn you, Soapdish, do something!

 

With Williams’ dazed, Xero falls back and slams him to the mat with a Hurricanarana! Xero rushes to his feet and darts to his feet. Xero bounces off the ropes, and catches Williams in a Flying Headscissors as he staggers to his feet! Xero jumps to his feet, and gets in a superkick stance. A dizzy Williams climbs to his feet and stumbles around like he’s nocuous. Crack! Xero drills him right in the chin with a Superkick, sending Williams through the ropes and out on the arena floor! The crowd goes absolutely crazy, and gives a standing ovation.

 

Stevens: And just like that, Xero has retaken control of this match!

 

Riley: All because Soapdish is to pussy to D.Q. Xero for his repeated rule breaking.

 

An excited Xero goes to the opposite side of the ring, and waits on the ropes. A shocked Williams pulls himself up with the guardrail while rubbing his sore jaw. Xero bounces off the ropes, and tumbles across the ring with a series of cartwheels and back flips! Once Xero reaches the edge of the ring, he leaps over the top rope and does a beautiful corkscrew in midair! Thump! Xero lands right on top of Williams with a perfect body press! Both men are down, as the fired up crowd starts frantically chanting “Xero!”.

 

Stevens: HOLY CRAP! Xero showing unbelievable athleticism in performing that indescribable Tumbling Corkscrew Plancha!

 

Riley: Bah! All that flippy flop crap can’t change the fact that all Williams got hit with was a simple Plancha! It’s not like an extra cartwheel makes the move hurt more.

 

Xero slowly rises to his feet, and rolls Williams back into the ring near a corner. Xero climbs on to the apron, and signals that “it’s all over.” The fans who had got tired and sat back down, anxiously stand up again. Xero ascends the turnbuckles, and balances himself on the top rope.

 

Stevens: This could be all she wrote.

 

Riley: Xero is pushing his luck with all these high risk moves.

 

Camera flashes light up the arena as Xero bounces off the top rope like an Olympic Diver, and does a perfect somersault before beginning his fall towards Williams!

 

Stevens: ABSOLUTE XEROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

 

Just before Xero lands, Williams raises his knees up! Xero sees it, but he can’t stop himself in mid air! Crack! Xero gets impaled on Williams’ knees, and lifelessly flops belly up on the mat! Xero rolls around for a little bit while clutching his ribs, before stopping and becoming perfectly still.

 

Riley: Wrong again, Stevens! Your like 0 for 3 tonight.

 

Stevens: At least I’am trying, dammit! 0 for 3 is better than 0 for 0.

 

The fans cheering morph into violent “boos” as Williams crawls on top of Xero and hooks a leg for the pin.

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

THRE-NO! Xero raises as shoulder up! Williams isn’t surprised that Xero is more hurt than knocked out. Williams gives the “throat cut” gesture and lifts Xero up with a front facelock. Williams drapes Xero’s lifeless arm over his shoulder, and grabs hold of his tights.

 

Riley: Williams setting Xero up for the DANGEROUS BRAINBUSTER!

 

Stevens: Dear god, I think you right. If Williams can hit it, than there is a 100 percent chance that this match is over. Not to mention a 50/50 chance that Xero may never get up again, that is just how dangerous this move is.

 

The crowd is now completely silent except for the sound of Williams straining to hoist Xero up. “IEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!” Williams lifts Xero up into the Vertical Suplex position, but a greasy quick Xero slips out of his grasp! Xero pulls Williams down into an inverted facelock as he lands on his feet behind him! Xero falls back, driving the back of Williams’ skull into the mat with a sickening thump! The silence of the arena is broken with an explosion of cheers.

 

Stevens: REVERSE DDT! Xero finally showing why he is the master of the DDT. Edwin alos used the same counter against Williams at Wargames!

 

Riley: Damn you, Edwin! How many more of his disgusting trends will Williams’ opponents continue to follow.

 

Still holding his ribs, Xero climbs to his feet and does the same “throat cut” gesture that Williams just did. The crowd eats it up.

 

Riley: Now that’s copyright infringement, Williams should sue his ass off.

 

Stevens: Oh everybody does that damn gesture now days, it’s become as cliched as spiking a football.

 

Xero helps Williams to his feet, and sets him up for Vertical Suplex. Xero releases his hand from Williams’ tights, and hooks his leg. The crowd rises to their feet in hopes of getting a better look at Xero’s deadly finishing hold.

 

Stevens: Xero setting Williams up for his version of the Brainbuster, XERO GRAVITY !

 

Riley: Xero’s version sucks! It’s all style and no substance. Unlike Williams version which is simpler and far more effective.

 

Xero gets ready to lift, when Williams comes back to life and starts hammering Xero’s ribs with his free hand! Xero cries out as each punch connects with brittle ribs. The pain is to great, forcing Xero to release Williams’ leg. While Xero’s stunned, Williams grabs hold of his tights and lifts him upside down!

 

Riley: DANGEROUS BRAINBUSTAAAAAAAAAAAH!

 

Xero starts kicking his legs, and manages to jump out of Williams’ arms! Xero lands on his feet behind Williams, and desperately locks on a back waistlock! Before Williams’ can react, Xero lifts him off the mat!

 

Stevens: XERO REVERSES! GERMAN SUPLEX!

 

Before Xero can bridge back, Williams plants his boots back on the mat and starts driving back elbows into his temple! Crack! Crack! Crack! A dazed Xero releases Williams, who spins behind him. Williams tucks his head underneath Xero’s armpit, and lifts him up!

 

Riley: BACKDROP DRIVAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!

 

Xero rolls through over Danny’s shoulder, and lands on his feet behind him! Before a confused Williams can react, Xero quickly rolls him up with a School Boy Pin!

 

Stevens: THE SCHOOL BOY! THIS IS IT!

 

Riley: Xero used the tights, dammit!

 

The crowd counts along with Soapdish!

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

THREE!

 

 

NO! Williams rolls through to his feet, grabs Xero’s left arm before he can get up, and falls back into the Cross Armbreaker!

 

Stevens: WILLIAMS ESCAPED THE SCHOOL BOY! HISTORY HAS BEEN MADE!

 

Riley: He didn’t just escape it, he reversed it to THE CROSS ARMBREAKER!

 

Stevens: Your right, Williams has it locked in perfectly! This does not look good for Xero at all!

 

Xero kicks his legs about and stretches his free arm out in search of the ropes, but their far out of reach. “AAAH! OH GOD! AAAAAAAAAAAAH!” screams Xero as Williams’ pulls back with all his might on his out stretched arm. Realizing he has no place to go, Xero gives into the pain and starts tapping with his free hand! Soapdish calls for the bell!

 

DING! DING! DING!

 

Riley: IT’S OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOVER!

 

Stevens: WOW, WHAT A MATCH! Williams finally overcomes one of his personal demons, and finds a counter to the School Boy pin.

 

Riley: Your damn right! From now on, you’ll think twice before trying to pin Williams with a School Boy!

 

An exhausted Williams’ releases Xero, and slowly climbs to his feet! Williams is soaked with so much sweat he looks like he just got out of a swimming pool, and is so out of breath he looks like he’s about to hyperventilate. While clutching his injured arm, Xero rolls out of the ring and heads to the back. The fans show their appreciation with a brief applause as he exits.

 

 

Back in the ring, Soapdish raises William’s arm to make the victory official. “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” Williams starts motioning with his hands for the fans to quiet down, and raises a hand to his ear to show that he’s trying to listen to the official announcement.

 

Funyon: The winner of this match at 12 minutes and 22 seconds as a result of submission............DANNY WILLIAMSSSSSSSSSS

 

An excited Williams somehow gathers the energy to do a standing back flip in celebration! Williams sticks the landing perfectly, and victoriously raises his arms in the air. The fans continue to “Boo!” and some start to throw empty beer cups.

 

Riley: What’s wrong with these people! Williams is a damn fine athlete that deserves better respect than this.

 

Stevens: Williams is a damn fine athlete, but he’s also an asshole. He can’t handle one loss against a tough team, so he takes it out on his partner.

 

Riley: You act like wanting to win at all cost is a bad trait. Xero couldn’t cut it as Danny’s partner, so he disposes of him and moves on.

 

Stevens: I don’t know about that. Xero is a former Tag Team Champion while Williams is just a hot headed rookie. Regardless of who you side with, there’s no denying that both men gave it their all tonight and neither has anything to be ashamed of.

 

Riley: That’s the most disgusting P.C. Bullcrap I’ve ever heard. You know as well as I that Williams just proved that Xero is indeed inferior, and that he was the better half of the tag team. Admit it, Stevens!

 

Stevens: Yes, tonight Williams was the better man in the ring, but that doesn’t.........

 

Riley: HA! YOU ADMIT IT!

 

Stevens: No! You didn’t let........

 

Riley: We’ll be right back folks, so stay tuned.

[Guest BA_Baracus]

The Midnight Carnival locker room is a quiet place: Chris Raynor has up and left, Z is nowhere to be seen, and El Luchadore Magnifico and Edwin MacPhisto sit quietly, patiently, waiting for their hopelessly rigged matches later in the evening.

 

And waiting for something else.

 

The World Heavyweight Title sits, laid out across a coffee table. Magnifico eyes the “Edwin MacPhisto” nameplate across its center, a plate that’s rested there for 100 days now…

 

“Mag?”

 

“Si, senor?”

 

“About Storm…the match and all. It’s just business, right? You’re not going to go and pull a bloody Raynor on me, are you?”

 

“Senor,” sighs Magnifico, “I have no idea what the once-loveable Raynor is thinking inside his head. Loco en la cabeza, si? El Viernes…on Friday, we will wrestle, but we will be wrestling not for blood or anger, but for that belt, and nothing more. It is simple, right?”

 

“I hope so.”

 

“Senor Edwin,” says Mag, leaning forward, “you must understand this. There has been lots of chaos and confusing things lately, si? Still, you are the leader, and I trust you for that. This is a time where we must band together and hold tight, rather than let the Creative Control mongrels break us all apart.”

 

“That’s what I’m saying, Mag. In this sort of an environment, we need to have each other’s backs, more than ever before.” Edwin pauses, and ventures a joke. “Besides, if I’m so cruel and harsh as some people like Silent and Raynor would like you to believe, it’s proper to be on my side, right?”

 

Magnifico regards him with a quizzical, uncertain look. “Si…I suppose that’s…right.”

 

“Okay. Forget the bad attempt at humor. Tonight, Stubby’s stacked the deck against both of us—do you think you can handle Wilson and Raynor on your own?”

 

“Amigo, it will be my PLEASURE to defeat that cabron Chris Wilson once more, and hopefully I will be able to bring our dear friend Chris back around…but it may be hard. Dos es mas que uno, si?”

 

“Right. If you need help, I’ll back you up…”

 

“And the same goes for you, amigo.”

 

“On Storm, though…don’t hold back, Mag. You fought through Thoth and Breggan to earn this shot. Don’t go easy on me just because I’ve had a rough few months, all right?”

 

“Don’t worry about, capitan. I will not be impaling your hands with flags any time soon, but I long for that world title as much as you long for peace. It will be a good match on Storm, and that is all.”

 

“A good match. That is all. Right on, my friend.” The two Carnies share a handshake, and return to watching the closed-circuit monitors.

 

A good match…that is all.

 

…right?

[Guest BA_Baracus]

*** Back inside the US Airways Arena … ***

 

Riley: Yeah … Uh huh … Yeah, that'll be two large with pepperoni, ooh and make sure to throw in those cheesy sticks … Bitchin' … Thanks.

 

Stevens: What are you doing?

 

*** As we cut to the announce table, it's revealed that Bobby Riley has a phone stuck to his ear while Mark Stevens looks on in confusion. ***

 

Riley: Yeah, the announce table … at the US Airways Arena … Ooh, and can I get those little cups of butter? I die without those … Great! Thanks! Buh bye …

 

Stevens: You're ordering take out AGAIN??! We're in the middle of a show!

 

Riley: PLEASE, Grand Selection … everybody's doing it.

 

*** As Grand Slam releases a sigh of exasperation, we cut to the ring; as the snazzy "SWF United States Championship" graphic swooshes over the screen. Funyon appears in the center of said ring, microphone and cards in hand. ***

 

Funyon: (clears throat, then speaks into microphone) … Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest, set for ONE fall … is for the SWF United States Heavyweight championship! About to enter the ring, is the challenger …

 

*** Without much hesitation, the Gorilla position cues up some Slipknot, as "I Am Hated" blares out from the speakers. ***

 

Funyon: From Muenchen, Germany; weighing in at 223 lbs … Tod - deeeeeee - Kin - deeeeeeeesssss!!

 

*** As the accompanying lighting and smoke treatment makes way through the crowd, out walks Tod deKindes, clad in his faithful trench and shades. He briefly stops at the top of the ramp, giving the crowd a long but approving look, and then he power walks to his usual pace, walking along to his song's intense rhythm. He slides under the bottom rope and walks around the ring, giving the Todheads another look. He then hops up to the second rope, blaring out his now ritual pre match roar to the fans. He removes the trench coat and shades, tossing them to the nearby ring tech. He paces around the ring and stretches on the ropes, as the Slipknot tune fades away … ***

 

Funyon: And his opponent …

 

*** The lights go out, and blue pyro begins to spray out in dual columns next to the entrance as the intro to "I Am The Man" by the Philosopher Kings begins to play over the speakers. With a huge explosion, the vocals begin, and when the smoke clears... nothing. ***

 

Funyon: Um.... and his opponent ...

 

*** The camera watches the entrance for a few more seconds, when finally, the two party-dressed Japanese belt girls scurry out and hold the curtain open, each one holding one of Tom Flesher's title belts. After another few seconds, Flesher comes hobbling out from behind the curtain on crutches. His head is wrapped in gauze, he wears a cast on his arm and has a gauze dressing taped over his right eye. Slowly, as his theme song continues playing, he stumbles down the ramp, with Stevens muttering, "What the hell...?" Finally, when he gets to ringside, he motions for a microphone. ***

 

Flesher: Ladies and gentlemen... let's just say, I'm very happy that the SWF had the good sense to put that 'card subject to change without notice' disclaimer on everything.

 

*** The crowd, seeing what's coming, bursts into a chorus of boos. ***

 

Flesher: You see, fans, Tod, Mr. Hardcastle... last week on Storm, I was the victim of a horrible accident. Some... some.... some incompetent cad of a janitor left a mop bucket out in the hallway, and I was unfortunate enough to walk across the wet floor and slip!

 

*** More boos. ***

 

Stevens: Oh, come on!

 

Riley: Now, now, Mark, hear him out. He's being very brave by coming out tonight.

 

Flesher: I was injured so badly. My wrist is broken. My ankle is sprained. I nearly lost my left...

 

*** Flesher looks down at his hands, quickly makes an L with each hand, then reaches up and switches the gauze dressing from his right eye to his left eye. ***

 

Flesher: ... my left eye! And soft tissue damage? Loads! Just look at this gauze! Unfortunately, fans, that means that.... *sniffle* I'm going to be unable to defend the title tonight.

 

*** The fans shower Flesher with boos. ***

 

Riley: *sniffle* Oh, that brave, brave man!

 

Stevens: Whatever. Next he'll start complaining about when he lost his smile.

 

*** Tod grabs the mic from Funyon. ***

 

Tod: BULLSHIT! Listen to me, you're faking that injury, you know, it, I know it and everyone in this arena knows it! And you know what? If you don't defend that title tonight, as far as I'm concerned, you're forfeiting it!

 

*** The fans burst into cheers as Flesher's face falls. He looks stunned, and stammers, "But... but... but..." as Sexton Hardcastle leans over the top rope and motions for one of the belt girls to hand over the US Title. Suddently.... ***

 

"ALL ABOARD! AH HAH HAH HAH!!"

 

*** The stage explodes in a crimson wall of pyro, as the Suicide King steps through the entrance curtain. "Crazy Train" continues blaring over the loudspeaker as the Deputy Commissioner struts down the aisle, dressed very professionally in his brown suit and Italian loafers. As the fans boo his impending unnecessary interference, the Japanese belt girl jerks the US Title away from Hardcastle and smiles pleasantly at the Suicide King. When he gets to the ring steps, he gently pats Flesher on the left shoulder, and Flesher winces before handing him the microphone. ***

 

King: Now, now, now, Tod, I wouldn't be so hasty as to declare yourself the next SWF United States Champion. I'd say that's not exactly your position. But... hmmm... what a coincidence... there's someone here who CAN make that decision. Who is it?

 

*** The fans continue booing. Flesher takes the mic back. ***

 

Flesher: Why, Mr. Deputy Commissioner, are YOU authorized to make such a decision?

 

King: Why, of course I am, Taamo. What an intelligent thing to ask!

 

Stevens: This is sickening!

 

Riley: I know! How long's it going to take before my pizza gets here?!

 

King: Tom, we're running a class organization here. I didn't get your letter of medical confirmation from your doctor this morning, and that dirturbs me. I need to know, on your honor, Mr. Flesher, are you too injured to compete tonight?

 

Flesher: *nods* Oh, yes, Mr. Deputy Commissioner. I mean, the soft tissue damage ALONE would keep me out of the ring, even if I had the use of everything else on my body.

 

*** King thinks it over for a moment, and finally... ***

 

King: Tom, that's good enough for me. I'm going to let you go. Please get back to me when you feel ready to give Tod his US Title match.

 

*** "Crazy Train begins to play over the loudspeakers again as King turns crisply and walks up the ramp. Flesher hobbles behind, flanked by the belt girls, as Tod stands fuming in the ring as the picture fades. ***

[Guest BA_Baracus]

SWF Smarkdown returns from commercial, sold-out crowd buzzing loudly, right in the middle of a night of heated SWF action. Their happy-go-lucky, ready for anything attitude sours as the lights go out, a low fog rolling over the arena…

 

“Ah…….ah…ah……….Ah…….ah..ah………..”

 

They explode into boo’s waves of hate ripping through the electrified atmosphere, the St. Lunatics kicking up over the sound system.

 

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

 

After a few moments, the man, the myth, the hated and despised legend strolls out onto the stage. He is the ICTV champion. He’s a former SWF champion and leader of two of the greatest stables in federation history. And he’s walking down the ramp, black trench coat swirling around him as the limited lighting sparkles off of his Ruby Juliet Oakleys. The crowd continues to pulse in a flowing mass of absolute disgust.

 

“What an honor!” coos Riley as Chris Wilson walks down the ramp, ICTV strap around his waist. “I didn’t think we’d get to see Mr. Wilson until he and Raynor beat the hell out of that damned, dirty Mexican tonight.”

 

“Goodie, goodie,” deadpans Stevens as Wilson climbs the stairs and steps into the ring. “Apparently the leader of the Magnificent Seven and current ICTV champion has some words for us tonight. Faaaantastic.”

 

“Cut the sarcasm, Mark!” commands Riley. “If Chris has something to say, I’m sure its very important and you should respect him. Umm…Dammit! Yeah, I’ll curse if need be.”

 

Wilson beckons the friendly neighborhood ring announcer for a microphone, and Funyon obliges. He brings it up to his lips, but is cut off by a familiar chant:

 

“ASS-HOLE!”

 

“ASS-HOLE!”

 

“ASS-HOLE!”

 

Wilson just smiles. “I wouldn’t want it any other way. Well folks, I think we can cut the introductory crap and get straight to the point. You hate me, I could care less. I beat up the people you love, you hate me some more. I win championships and make stables that dominate the federation, you find some more hate. And I still don’t care. It’s like one big never ending cycle, except for one little thing.”

 

Wilson looks out into the seats, almost apologetic:

 

“It’s ending, I’m afraid.”

 

The crowd’s confused, and so are the announcers.

 

“What does he mean, Mark?”

 

“I’m not sure, Bobby. Is Chris Wilson announcing his retirement?”

 

Wilson begins to pace around the ring. “Yes, my hating and unadoring anti-fans, the greatest show on earth is coming to a close. The one man that can make you smile and make you boo is leaving.” The crowd starts to cheer, obviously excited with the news. Wilson holds up a hand. “Please, don’t cry for me Argentina. The truth is, I’ll really always be here.”

 

The crowd’s unhappy again, twisted thoughts of Wilson as ring announcer popping into their heads. “Not here in person, but my workings. Like when Edwin MacPhisto comes out here, and you can never look at him the same, that’s myself and Silent. Or when you watch the tape of Wargames, and there’s me and my team winning, you’ll remember. Or when the “Toxicity” plays, and a Wilson-less Magnificent Seven comes out, still dominating, you’ll think back to the good ol’ days of the past.”

 

“I suppose in a way by comeback was a failure. I set my goal of winning the SWF Title, and I just figured I could breeze right to it. Hell, I breezed right through the rest of the competition. Magnifico –BAM! Fallout-BOOM! Tag titles on an off day. ICTV when I was bored. Thoth- BADA! Erek Taylor-BING! And so on, and so forth, I knocked them off and became seemingly the greatest in the federation.”

 

Wilson pauses for a moment, rubbing his chin. “But sadly, I couldn’t win that last match against Edwin. And Lord knows, I had three tries. He just kept slip-sliding away from me, and I couldn’t beat him. Couldn’t win that title. But that’s okay, really. I’m not going to make excuses. He can have the title. At least I’m still smilin’, while he’s worrying about charges being pressed and vengeful Goths.”

 

“I really couldn’t of asked for a better run. I come back, and out of sheer fright, we immediately have some people take off. Bo, Sacred, Thugg, running off into the forest with their tails between their legs. But that’s okay, I can understand. It must be tough to try and compete with the greatest goddamn heel this federation has ever seen. That’s not even debatable at this point. Who led his team to victory in the first ever and possibly only ever Wargames? Me. Who formed the IGNWO? Me. Who formed the Magnificent Seven? Me. Who took a bunch of punks called ‘New Sound’, whatever the hell that is, and crafted them into the dominant stable in the JL they are today?”

 

Wilson heads over to the corner. “For those of you who are a little slow, the answer to that last question was me as well. And that’s not counting championship reigns. I was world heavyweight champion. One of the longest running Hardcore gamer’s champions. A couple of runs with the tag straps.” Wilson points down to his ICTV belt. “Hell, I’m really not sure how I got this, but it’s nice to have around.”

 

“But alas, all evil things must come to an end, and at Genesis, for me, they do. I’ll come out, hand over this ICTV belt to some deserving person and maybe sing a song or two, and I’m out of here. I’ll leave you all to watch half-assed, second-rate ‘top heels’ lose to bumpees and lovely stuff like that. Maybe once I leave, you’ll have some more comebacks.”

 

“But it’s not like they’d even compare to mine. Look at them, throughout the ages. Pimp Daddy Sarp’s comeback: Dud. Rane’s comeback: Dud. Stubby’s comeback: Dud. Failure after failure after failure, and so I make my return, and everyone’s like ‘He’s going to fail, he’s going to fail!’ La la la, like I gave a fuck what they thought. Look at where we are now.”

 

Wilson walks to the center of the ring and slowly spins in a circle as he speaks, addressing the entire arena. “So as much fun as terrorizing the innocent and bloodying the fools is-“

 

Wilson’s cut off as the lights to the arena dim, letting stillness enter the building. Then the opening bars of the Vertical Limit mix of Linkin Park’s Points of Authority float out as the Smark-Tron™ lights up with well cut archive footage of Divefire delivering his own brand of patented kick ass action as the lyrics roll.

 

“Forfeit the game,

Stop the talk show,

Product of what,

You’re taught to know,

Forfeit the game,

‘Cus tomorrow,

When it’s all done,

You reap what you sow!”

 

With a roar, fire pyro’s erupt from the stage, whiting out the entrance area for a second. As vision becomes a welcome commodity again, standing on the stage is Divefire, mike in hand. Wilson’s mouth hangs agape as he stands in the ring, not prepared for this turn of events at all.

 

“It’s Divefire!” exclaims Stevens.

 

“What’s he doing interrupting Wilson’s farewell speech!?” demands Riley. “This is an outrage!”

 

“So you’re leaving, Wilson, my boy?” questions the former World champion, walking down the ring. “And you were just calling out others for running away. It seems to be me that’s exactly what you’re doing. A shadow from your past comes back, and you head out of town. Seems fitting.”

 

“Oh, shut up, you flaming freak,” returns Wilson. “Go talk to Edwin if you can get him out of therapy long enough. I was planning on leaving way before you made your theatric return with your assault on Thugg. Congrats on attacking a cripple by the way. Takes a lot of balls to do that.”

 

“Well, that’s why I’m out here,” replies Divefire, now standing halfway down the ramp, eyes locked with Wilson’s, a fire burning deep inside both men’s gazes. “Your running away, and you’re not really going to give me the chance to get my proper vengeance. You did kill me, remember? It’s only proper I kick the living shit out of you for what you did.”

 

Wilson shakes his head. “Nope, I’ve reconsidered. I’m just coasting the rest of this month. I’ll probably defend the ICTV once more, and I keep getting Barbie stationary from Drazon about how he wants a match, so I’ll probably kick his ass. But other than that, it’s just easy street for me.” Wilson nods towards the back. “Why don’t’ you check back there for someone to-“

 

“SHUT UP!” shouts Divefire, pointing up at Wilson. “You want to try and ruin people’s careers, their lives?! Well, then you’re going to pay for what you did. And you’re going to pay for it at Genesis.”

 

“Maybe you didn’t hear me correctly, but I said it’s not going to happen. Nada, no match. Lo siento, mi fucked up amigo, but if you want revenge, you’ll just have to head back to the old folks home and beat up on Thugg in his wheelchair some more.”

 

“Sorry to ruin your nice little rant and quick-witted jabs,” snips a calmed Divefire, “But I already talked to Stubby. And guess who has the honor of fighting you at Genesis?” Divefire brings his thumb to his chest. “Me.”

 

“Screw Stubby!” blurts Wilson. “I’m leaving, I don’t need him! I don’t need you, or you, or any of you stupid fucking people.”

 

“You can’t run, Wilson! You run, I’m going to follow you and all the bodyguards, booby traps and secret volcano lairs in the world aren’t going to keep me from finding you and getting my sweet, sweet revenge.”

 

Wilson’s mouth drops open, but he catches himself, clicking it shut. He slowly gazes down at Divefire, who has slowly walked down to the bottom of the ramp. He sighs.

 

“Fine. One last time. I suppose it is the perfect way to go out. My legacy will be cemented as the man who murdered Divefire not once, but twice.” Wilson smiles. “Hope you’ve got the ring rust knocked off, because it’s going to be one long night come the end of the month.”

 

Divefire’s eyes never waver from Wilson’s. “I wouldn’t want it any other way. See you at Genesis, Wilson.”

 

He drops the mike as the “Points of Authority” remix begins to play again, Divefire slowly backpedaling up the ramp as Wilson stands in the ring, worried about what he just got himself into.

 

“Did you hear that?!” shouts Stevens over the roar of the crowd and Linkin Park. “We’ve already got a match signed for Genesis, and it’s the returning Divefire against Chris Wilson, the man who retired him, and nearly took his life, a year and a half ago!”

 

“What’s Wilson doing?!” questions Riley. “He could of gone out with a nice speech, maybe a song, and now he’s fighting Divefire. This is not good. Not good at all.”

 

“Wilson’s fear of being stalked for the rest of his life by a pissed-off, flaming, ninja Brit was enough to make his accept his fate,” declares Stevens, “and now we’re going to have one hell of a battle come Genesis. Stay tuned folks, because we still have a great night of wrestling ahead!”

[Guest BA_Baracus]

Aaaaaaaaaaand we’re back on SWF Smarkdown, yo! The fans in hop up onto their feet, signs galore dotting the crowd in the US Airways Arena as everyone gets psyched. Signs shoot up into the air, the likes of “I CAME TO SEE SARAH’S BOOBS!” being seen on TVs across the nation. And now, it’s time to send it off to the two men in the announcer’s chairs, “Grand Slam” Mark Stevens and “Hey! Get Your White Male Gay-Ass Hand Out Of My Pants!“ Bobby Riley.

 

Riley: WELCOME TO THE JUNGLE! WELCOME TO SWF SMARKDOWN, LIVE IN LANDOVER, MARYLAND! JOINED BY MY HOMO-LOVING PARTNER “GRAND SLAM” MARK STEVENS, I AM BOBBY RILEY, AND UP NEXT IS THE GREATEST ASS WHOOPING YOU’LL EVER SEE!

 

Stevens: Shut up, Bobby! I’m supposed to do that

 

Riley: What was that, sweet child of mine?

 

Stevens: Sweet child of mine? Are you making references to-

 

Riley: Ya know, I really wish I was in Paradise City right now.

 

Stevens: Now I know you’re making references to-

 

Riley: Enough of that. Just hype Frost and Ash Ketchum, OK?

 

Stevens: Well, basically, Frost and Ash got into an argument on Storm in the ring, and it led to this! A match of epic magnitude! Frost! Ash Ketchum! Right here, right now!

 

Just then, “Cities on Flame with Rock ‘n Roll” by Blue Oyster Cult kicks up, and the Frosted One makes his appearance. His stride to the ring is slow, yet purposeful, the crowd booing at him loudly. Halfway down the ramp, he raises one arm, fist clenched, to the crowd, gaining more heel heat in the process as Funyon raises the mic to his lips:

 

Funyon: The following match is so totally goign to rule, and is scheduled for one-fall! Introducing first, from Reykjavik, Iceland, weighing in at 296 pounds, he is a member of THE MAGNIFICENT SEVEN and one half of the SWF TAG TEAM CHAMPIONS, CHILLY CHILLY BANG BANG... FROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOST!!!

 

Frost climbs up onto the apron, stepping between the ropes and moving toward the center of the ring. There is no fancy pyro or lighting effects. He’s a man who likes to get down to business. And tonight, it is destroying Ash Ketchum...

 

 

 

Once again.

 

Stevens: Frost comes out here tonight with one mission: destroy Ash Ketchum. He’s done it before, but he was at a disadvantage then!

 

Riley: I’m sure Wilson has something planned, doesn’t he?

 

Cut to a shot of the M7 locker room, where the other members, specifically TNT, watch with great interest. TNT almost falls out of his chair in tension as he watches the intros, while Wilson smiles happily, chuckling as if he has some evil scheme to help Frost. Yeah, right, like that’d happen...

 

Back in the ring, Frost turns away from the announcers, facing the entrance ramp. He awaits his opponent with great pleasure, as he cannot wait to kill him again.

 

Stevens: Looks like Frost is ready.

 

Riley: He’s got an Appetite For Destruction!

 

Stevens: Enough with the Guns ‘N Roses references already. I’m making sure you never watch the VMAs again.

 

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

 

Stevens: Wow! Listen to the ovation!

 

Riley: SHUT THE FUCK UP, YOU MORONS! PLEASE! I BEG YOU! BOO HIS ASS OUT OF THE BUILDING!

 

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

 

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

 

He climbs up onto the apron, entering the ring. Ash climbs the turnbuckle closest to the crowd and with lightning precision, strips off his shirt. Whirling it wildly over his head, he smiles as he releases the shirt, flinging several rows back into the hands of a fan as Ash dismounts the turnbuckle, turning to face Frost, a slightly fearful look on Ash as he looks up at the monstrous, always dangerous, Frozen One.

 

Stevens: Frost with that sadistical stare into Ash Ketchum’s eyes...

 

Riley: He’s staring into Ash’s eyes? You’re supposed to kill him, Frost, not fall in love with him!

 

Stevens: I never insinuated that-

 

Riley: You sure did.

 

Stevens: And that turns you on, right? Don’t you love gay hosses or something?

 

Riley: No, wrong guy, asshole.

 

Stevens: Well, regardless, I expect this to be quick and painful... for Ash.

 

Riley: Yes sir! Ash Ketchum wanted this match, and by God, he’s gonna get his ass kicked!

 

As Frost and Ash stare each other down, Frost draws his leg back and quickly kicks Ash in the shin. Ketchum grabs his ankle and hops around the ring in pain, screaming loudly and over-selling the move. The crowd begins to laugh at Ash as the referee calls for the bell...

 

DING DING DING!

 

Stevens: Looks like we’re getting started on this one early!

 

Riley: This one’s gonna suck.

 

Ash stops his games, turning to Frost, and immediately begins to fire off quick right handed jabs into the face of Frost. The Icelandic Monster opts to take them, standing almost in place as Ash fires off punch after punch. Frost begins to chuckle as Ash’s punches begin to slam into his chest, almost enjoying watching Ash pound away at his chest. Eventually, Ash begins to slow down, then suddenly, he stops, instead opting todraw his palm back, thrusting it forward into Frost’s chest. Frost kinda grunts as the palm hits his chest, but as Ash pulls his pslm back, he clenches it into a fist, driving it up under the chin of Frost with a rising uppercut, and maybe for the first time ever against him, knocks Frost back a few feet, The Frozen One staggering back after the uppercut catches him off guard!

 

Riley: There ya go, Ash.

 

Stevens: Ash with a nice combo there, and now, a quick whip to the ropes! Wow, he’s throwing Frost around like a luchador in the early going!

 

Riley: It’s too good to be true.

 

As Frost bounces off the ropes and flies back at Ash, Ketchum leaps into the air, thrusting his legs out and catching Frost in the mouth with a sweet dropkick, the Rocket Launch. Frost falls backwards, landing hard on his back, and immediately grabs his mouth as if in some sort of pain, like Ash injured Frost’s jaw with the dropkick. Phffft. Yeah, right.

 

Stevens: Frost might have gotten hurt from that dropkick, and wait, Ketchum’s covering Frost for the first pin atempt in this match!

 

One...

 

Tw-And with a mighty heave, Frost throws Ash off of him! Ketchum lands on his back as Frost begins to get up, grabbing his mouth in pain as Ash gets to his feet as well.

 

Stevens: Frost seems to be hurting-

 

Riley: OH! BUT WHAT A SPINNING BACK FIST FROM FROST! LOOK AT THE SPIN! THE POWER! ASH NEVER SAW IT COMING!

 

The crowd begins to boo a bit as Ash falls sharply to the mat while Frost stops spinning. Frost is even grinning as he waits for Ash to get up, Ketchum rising to his feet. Quickly, Frost grabs Ash’s head with one hand, and drawing his other hand back, unloads three slow, but powerful overhand punches to the forehead of Ash. Ash cries out with each blow, but Frost is far from finished, as he grabs hold of Ash’s arm and whips him to the ropes. Ketchum flies across the ring as he hits the ropes and flies back at Frost, the big man taking a few steps forward and unleashing a weak little clothesline. Ash falls down, but gets right back up, right where Frost wants him. The Frozen one grabs hold of Ash’s arm, whipping him into the corner. Ash flies into it, slammming into it chest first. He suddenly bounces back, staggering out of the corner and turning around, just as Frost steps forward, grabs him around the neck, and falls back, slamming Ash into an inverted DDT! Ketchum gets a little taste of a move he regularly uses, and he falls to the mat, Frost rolling him over and covering him for the pin...

 

 

One...

 

 

Two-Ash gets the shoulder up!

 

Stevens: I didn’t think Frost would get the three-count with that, mainly because Ash has been using the move so long he knows how to take it with as little impact as possible.

 

Riley: You and your mumbo-jumbo. No one cares. All they want is blood!

 

Forst begins to get onto his feet, picking Ketchum up in the process. He quickly bends over, grabbing Ash and turning him over, scooping him up before he quickly slams Ash to the math with a basic scoop slam. Ash’s back hits the mat, but he slowly rises, Frost grabbing Ash again. This time, he grabs him with the palms of his hands and lifts him high up into the air, right into a press hold, but suddenly, he quickly throws Ash off, slamming him forward onto his back, with a brutal gorilla press slam! Ash grabs his back and cries out in pain as Frost proceeds to pin Ash to the mat for another pinning attempt!

 

One...

 

Two...

 

T-Ash kicks out again! Frost looks up at referee Matthew Kivell and scowls angrily.

 

Riley: Frost is a bit unhappy with that, and he should be! Ash should be down for the three count right now!

 

Stevens: I don’t know for sure, but that gorilla press slam looked vicious!

 

Riley: I wanna see what he has in stor for Ash next! Looks like they’re getting up! CHOKESLAM TIME! I hope...

 

As Ash and Frost get onto their feet, Ash strikes back, grabbing Frost around the back of the head, placing his head under Frost’s chin as he drops into a sitting position, hitting Frost with a sit-out jawbreaker that, upon release, sends Frost flying backwards onto his back, grabbing his jaw in pain. Ketchum scrambles to his feet, sensing he’s found a weak point, and quickly, he uncorks a quick stomp or two to Frost’s jaw. Frost screams out in pain as Ash stops stomping, grabbing Frost by the head and slowly picking him up, as he is big and heavy.

 

Ash pulls Frost up onto his feet, a tad bit exhausted, but as he does, Ketchum thrusts his leg forward, Frost catching it before it hits his chest. Ketchum flows through the move in mind, a frontflip enziguri, leaping off his other foot and into the air, kicking Frost in the jaw hard! Ash flips through the air and lands on his feet as Frost staggers back a foot or two, but comes staggering forward as Ash Ketchum makes a quick move, turning as he hooks his leg back, nailing Frost in the mouth with a standing hook kick! Frost drops to his knees, grabbing his jaw in pain, but is it over yet? Hell no! Ash Ketchum is almost finished, and quickly, he lashes out with two quick roundhouses to mouth, left first, then a hard, stiff right one that sends Frost tumbling onto his side. Frost’s face and jaw are exploding in pain right now as he falls onto his back, Ash quickly jumping on top of him as he attempts a quick pin!

 

One...

 

Two...

 

THR-NO! Frost gets the shoulder up!

 

Stevens: Ash quickly moving behind Frost, waistliock, looks like he’ll try a German suplex!

 

Ash attempts to grab Frost and lift him up, but Frost counters, elbowing Ash in the head and stepping behind Ash and grabbing Ash in a waist lock and quickly lifting him up into the air, releasing him in mid-air! Ash looks destined to hit the mat, but he tucks his feet and begins to flip back in the air, using Frost’s throw as momentum to flip himself OVER the ropes, in an absolute mark-out spot! Frost is confused as he gets back up, but Ash grabs Frost in a waist lock, and using every muscle he has, quickly lifts him up into the air, releasing him in mid-air as Frost’s neck slams into the mat viciously, both men falling over as Ash hits one of the awesome German suplexes you’ll ever see!

 

Stevens: WHAT A GERMAN SUPLEX! BOTH MEN ARE DOWN! ALL ASH HAS TO DO IS COVER FROST! THIS COULD BE IT!

 

Riley: It’s over, Grand Slam! It’s over!

 

Stevens: I don’t know who is going to get up first. Both men STILL down at this point in the match, but wait, here comes Frost, sitting up, and how the hell is Ash Ketchum even attempting to get to his feet, much less get up? It must be that adrenaline rush these cheering fans are giving Ash Ketchum! Their support is helping raise the Poke Freak!

 

As the crowd cheers, both men rising to their feet, Ketchum staggers around, running to the ropes, and bouncing off them. As he rebounds back and Frost gets up, Frost lets out a furious cry, extending his arm out and connecting with Ash’s head, nearly taking it off as Ketchum flips in the air, his fist accidentally slamming into Frost’s mouth, causing Frost to cry out in pain and drop to his knees as Ash flips around 450 degrees and slams onto his back, as a result of the best damn clothesline I’ve ever seen!

 

Stevens: Frost just hit Ash with the Hell Freezes Over, but he

 

Riley: STOP CRYING AND PIN HIM!

 

Frost eventually stops crying and turns around, slowly covering Ash as Kivell drops to the mat to make the impending three-count!

 

One...

 

Two...

 

Three?

 

 

 

 

 

 

Stevens: NO! ASH KICKS OUT! FROST WAITED TOO LONG! AND NOW HE’S MAD! HE’S ABOUT TO GRAB KIVELL, BUT HE STOPS! Frost is angry, and it looks liek he’s gonna take it out on Ash!

 

Riley: He’s pulling him up! What could be next? Piledriver? Early Winter? I can’t wait!

 

Stevens: Frost pulls Ash up onto his feet, and now he’s backing away, setting Ash up for maybe another of those amazng clotheslines!

 

As Frost charges at Ash for another clothesline,Ash turns around, waistlocking the charging Frost and quickly bending back, he uses Frost’s momentum, lifting him over his head and releasing him into an overhead release belly-to-belly suplex! Frost flies through the air and lands back-first on the mat, crying in pain as Ash Ketchum falls onto his back, exhausted and just plum tired.

 

Stevens: WHAT A COUNTER! KETCHUM JUST SAVED HIMSELF BOTH MEN DOWN! WHO WILL GET UP FIRST?

 

Riley: Looks like both men are slowly getting up, smartass.

 

Both men slowly rise to their feet, but as they do, Ash pokes Frost in the eyes, almost on accident, but a certain someone thinks it was on purpose.

 

Stevens: BAH GAWD! POKE TO DA EYE! HOW HEINOUS! DAMN KETCHUM! DAMN HIS EVIL ASS TO HELL! LONG LIVE DA HOSSES!

 

Riley: O_O?

 

Stevens: Sorry. Just fell into “Carried Away Oklahoman” mode.

 

As Frost grabs his eyes for a second and staggers, Ash runs for the ropes, bouncing off them. He comes flying back off of them like a bullet out of a gun at Frost, who turns around just as Ash draws his arm back, forearm facing Frost before he shoves the arm forward with a-

 

Stevens: Nice forearm smash from Ketchum! That one caught Frost right in the mouth and took him down!

 

Riley: Wow! That looked great! I guess Ash Ketchum’s almost back to 100% after the incident in Halifax almost three weeks ago. Or something like that.

 

Stevens: I agree. He does look great.

 

Riley: Hello? What about Frost?

 

Stevens: Well... Frost looks like he normally does: vicious, destructive, gigantic. Quite the wrecking machine, I’d say.

 

Riley: Thank you.

 

But as this happens, Frost is thrown forward into the referee, sending the referee down to the mat. And if that’s not bad enough, Frost lands on top of the ref, knocking the wind out of him!

 

Stevens: FROST JUST FELL ON THE REF!

 

Riley: Squish! Just like flies on a windshield!

 

As Frost slowly gets onto his feet, Ash stands ready for him, but Frost makes a quick strike, reaching back and uncorking a powerful, Triple H-style punch to Ash’s forehead, sending Ketchum tumbling to the mat quickly. Instead of falling under a glass ceiling and being supressed underneath it, Ketchum grabs his head and desperately tries to get up, determined to win.

 

Riley: YOU FOOL! Stay down! Frost will kill you-Wait, never mind.

 

Stevens: What a brutal punch from Frost! It may have knocked Ash partially unconscious!

 

Riley: I doubt it. He’s always seemed kinda half-there.

 

Ash slowly rises up onto his knees, nearly falling, and then, he makes the mistake of trying to get up again. With a thrust of the arm and clench of the throat, Frost makes Ash pay for it. The referee is still down from the bump, but he is starting to move about a little bit as Frost lifts Ash into the air before slamming him hard onto the canvas with a mighty-

 

Stevens: CHOKESLAM! CHOKESLAM FROM FROST! ASH KETCHUM IS OUT OF IT! IT’S OVER! FROST HAS STOPPED ASH!

 

Riley: Stick a fork in Ash, ‘cuz he’s done!

 

As the ref slowly gets up, Frost crosses Ash’s arm’s old-school Undertaker-style, pinning him to the mat as the crowd begins to riot.

 

Stevens: FROST HAS THIS WON!

 

Riley: GET UP, REF!

 

Stevens: The ref is still down and oblivious to the fact Frost has Ash beat!

 

Riley: INJUSTICE!

 

Turning to find the ref slowly getting to his feet, he yells at him, and quickly, the ref begins to raise his hand into the air, making the super slow count on Ash:

 

One...

 

 

 

 

 

Two...

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THREE!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

Nope.

 

 

 

Ash kicks out at the last second.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Grand Slam goes nuts.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Bobby Riley shits his pants.

 

 

 

 

 

AND THE CROWD ERUPTS IN CHEER AS FROST SCREAMS AT THE REFEREE, POUNDING THE MAT AND THROWING A TERRIBLE TANTRUM! As the ref tries to explain the call, Frost ignores him, clenching the throat of Ash Ketchum again, both men slowly rising to their feet as the crowd watches in amazement.

 

Stevens: THIS IS UNBELIEVABLE! ASH KICKED OUT!

 

Riley: FROST GOT SCREWED! NO!

 

Frost begins to get onto his feet, pulling Ash up, and as he stands tall, he slowly begins to lift Ash into the air for another chokeslam, just enough to finish off the fragile young boy. But as he lifts Ash into the air, the Undercard King reaches an arm out, and in a desperation attempt, wraps it around Frost’s neck. He strains as he pulls his neck back, removing it from the choke hold placed upon him, but then he does fall back, slamming Frost down ont the mat with a spiked DDT! Both men hit the mat hard, and both men fall onto their backs, Frost rolling over after impact.

 

Riley: How’d that happen? I can’t say anything about it other than Frost screwed up!

 

Stevens: Impressive. That’s all I can say about that!

 

Slowly, as the crowd chants his name, Ash Ketchum begins to get to his feet. He slowly, slowly rises onto his knees, all the while moving backwards in any manner toward the corner.

 

Stevens: He’s getting there slowly, but by God, Ash Ketchum has turned the match around again!

 

Reaching up, Ash slowly climbs to the top rope, turning around as he reaches the top. He has been beaten to Hell and back, but one last move may end this massacre. And with that, he makes his split-finger “V” sign, but while perched on the top rope, setting up for the Poke Ball, Go!, Frost begins to get up after the DDT, grabbing his head and sighing, as if tired and sore. Suddenly, Ash can’t hit his finisher anymore! He’s screwed! He needs to do something... and fast! Suddenly, an idea opos into his head, and with that, Ketchum leaps into the air, kanding on Frost’s shoulders as he wraps his legs around Frost’s throat, and throwing his body backwards, somehow flips Frost around into a hurracanrana! The Icelandic Giant hits the mat head first, but as he does, Ash grabs hold of Frost’s legs...

 

Stevens: ASH WAS SETTING UP FOR THE POKE BALL, GO!, BUT HE CHANGES IT INTO A HURRACANRANA!

 

... Rolling Frost up for a pin! The big man wiggles relentlessly, attempting to break free as Kivell counts along with the crowd!

 

One...

 

 

 

Two...

 

 

THREE!!!

 

 

Frost breaks loose...

 

 

 

 

 

But it’s too late!

 

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

 

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

 

Stevens: He’s done it! He’s really done it! He’s won! HE BEAT FROST! IT’S A MIRACLE!

 

Riley: Aw, calm yourself. Frost was dominating most of the match.

 

While Ash Ketchum is helped up and the crowd cheers, TNT appears from backstage and runs down the ramp, sliding into the ring, Tag Title in hand. He gets onto his feet as the crowd boos and Frost rises back up, TNT charging from behind Ash. Lifting the belt up-“THUD!”-TNT imprints his name upon the back of Ash’s head with a ferocious belt shot! Ketchum collapses to the mat as TNT remains standing, taunting Ash and lifitng the title belt high into the air, but as he does...

 

Stevens: Is that-

 

Riley: No, it can’t be...

 

Stevens: XERO! XERO’S COME DOWN TO KICK ASS! DANNY WILLIAMS ABANDONED HIM ON STORM, AND NOW HE SEEKS REVENGE ON M7!

 

Xero, with steel chair in hand, comes flying into the ring, quickly getting up. He lifts it up, letting out a startling cry as TNT turns around-”CLANK!”-and falls victim to a chair shot from Xero! He is sent tumbling to the mat as Frost sees Xero and the chair, sliding out of the ring and grabbing his partner in the process as they head for higher ground, a higher ground called the ramp.

 

Stevens: Xero’s cleaned house! Chili Chili Bang Bang has been sent packing!

 

As he stands in the ring, Xero snatches the Tag Title belt from Matthew Kivell’s hand and throws it, hitting Ash with it on accident. Ketchum catches it, though, as he gets up and Ash promptly gets cheers as he picks it up in one hand, lifting it up as he points at Frost, then the belt, Frost, the belt, Frost. Meanwhile, Xero kicks the other belt out of the ring in anger, pulling on the ropes and just doing other things you do in the ring when you flip out on adrenaline. Through this, he manages to look up and see Ash parading around the ring with the belt. He shakes his head, sighs, and wakls over to Ash, snatching the belt from his hands. The crowd doesn’t know what to do, as Xero points to the belt, then himself before he and Ash begin a slight stare-down, and everyone’s kinda confused.

 

Stevens: Xero seems to think he should be tag champ, but Ash wants the title as well! These two men may be headed on a collision course, and we may indeed see both men in a Tag Title match one day! But we still have more action coming on Smarkdown, right after this commercial.

 

Fade to a Pepsi Twist commercial starring Ash! WOO-HOO!

[Guest BA_Baracus]

Smarkdown returns, showing the cage in the rafters, but the arena’s lights are abruptly cut off, and the spotlights near the entrance ramp begin to flicker rapidly, creating a blurred and blinding effect for anyone near them. Front Line Assembly’s “Retribution” hits the sound to a massive response, mostly boos but many are now cheers for the sadistic Clansmen.

 

Funyon: “The following contest is scheduled for the hardcore title!”

 

White fog billows out from behind the curtains as the SmarkTron flickers to life. A rapid succession of footage showing Silent hitting various Demonstar Drivers flashes onscreen, in time with the pulse-pounding beat of the music. After every Demonstar clip, the Chinese character for “Retribution” flashes, two stories tall, on the ‘Tron.

 

“Introducing first! He is a challenger!”

 

The audience has had a few moments to grow accustomed to the blistering pace of the lights and the music, signaling it’s time for Silent to make his entrance through the fog at the top of the ramp, coat trailing behind him.

 

“He hails from Phoenix, Arizona! He stands at Six feet Five inches and weighs in at 248 pounds!”

 

The clansmen slowly walks down the ramp, his emotionless face focused on by the camera. Inside his jacket, to his left, the handle of the cane can be seen hanging out.

 

“He represents the Clan!”

 

The man slides in under the ropes as “Retribution” begins to fade away and the arena’s lights come back up.

 

“SILENT!!!”

 

Silent pulls out his cane and lets it rest on his leg as he ties his hair back. With a slight shrug of his shoulders, his coat falls off and is sent spiraling towards the announcer’s table. The Silent One reclines on the ropes in an arrogant fashion as he fiddles around with his cane, waiting for his opponents.

 

Stevens: “We are back at Smarkdown, and it is time for our elimination hardcore title match!”

 

The lights dim as a spotlight shines on the entrance curtain. A rhythm guitar sequence plays, getting the once booing crowd to their feet and cheering for their hardcore queen.

 

Funyon: “And his opponent! Another challenger!”

 

A quick white pyro wall flares up in front of the entrance ramp as the music slows to a single riff played over and over.

 

“She hails from Indianapolis, Indiana! She stands at Five feet Six inches and weighs in at 175 pounds!”

 

The Angel runs out full speed as the PA system blares:

 

"I never knew girls existed like you!"

 

"She is Beautiful" by Andrew W.K. plays in the arena.

 

“The hardcore queen and a member of the X-Force-9!”

 

Annie climbs the steps, turning around only to face the crowd at the apron and sharply point her thumb at her chest in a cocky manner.

 

“SHE IS ANNIE ECLECTIC!!!”

 

Her Singapore cane resting over her shoulders, she steps into the ring, face Silent, while holding her sword for defense. The crowd starts to get rowdy, hoping for them to get it on without the hardcore champ.

 

Riley: “You know… if Annie won this title… we could see a whole new meaning to the match of hardcore!”

 

Stevens: “Gee… that may have been funny… oh the first million times I’ve heard it!”

 

Silent and Annie stand away, a good 20 feet in between them with their weapons out, and above them both, thousands of tiny pyros go off exploding through the rafters and near the giant cage, and all around the arena. Suddenly, from the corners adjacent to the competitors in the ring, two powerful explosions streak across, connecting in the center, about 15 feet in the air, and combine to explode into a giant fireball. The explosion would cause anyone else to step back, but the two in the ring stand straight, facing each other. The lights go out...

 

Stevens: “Jay Dawg seemingly playing some mindgames with the two challengers! Jay Dawg may be victorious over Annie Eclectic… however the always-dangerous Silent holds a victory over him in this environment! And just last week, we saw Annie show her true hardcore side, exploding over Silent and sending him running, while muttering the word an Assassin always trumps a Slaughterer.”

 

"THIS

 

 

IS

 

 

MAH

 

 

HOUSE!!!"

 

Jay Dawg’s voice echoes throughout the arena as Rammstein's "Du Haste" plays over the speakers without the lyrics... The heavy beats thunder 360 degrees all over the arena... JD steps through the curtains, his head down and hardcore title over his waist. A giant chain hangs over his neck and a staff flanks his right side. He walks to the top of the ramp, slowly raising his head as Funyon starts his bit.

 

Funyon: “And their opponents! He is the S-W-F hardcore champion!”

 

JD lowers his head again, getting a good look at his adversaries before doing so, and lets his head rest with a smile of evil intentions plastered on his face.

 

“He hails from Vancouver, British Columbia! He stands at Six feet Four inches and weighs in at 250 pounds!”

 

JD pauses at ringside, looking at his opponents once more. He takes an unoccupied corner and places his chain inside it, then rolls into the ring with his staff.

 

“A member of the Creative Control!”

 

JD stabs his staff into the mat and places a hand on his thigh while cricking his neck. Du Haste begins to fade as he steps back into the corner.

 

“JAMIE ‘JAY DAWG’ DRAZON!!”

 

And upon finishing announcing the final name, Funyon dives outside, not wanting any bit of involvement in the scrap to end all scraps. JD unhooks his title and tosses it to the ref, not taking an eye off either of his opponents. Annie and Silent do the same, slowly rotating their eyes.

 

Stevens: “Here it is! The battle of three hardcore masters!”

 

Riley: “You know… I have to put my money on Silent tonight! Although Jay Dawg may have defeated the HVille Thugg… Silent defeated him… however it is three way and elimination… umm Mark, who are you pulling for?”

 

Stevens: “I’m hoping that Annie Eclectic knocks the arrogance off both these boys!”

 

Riley: “Mark! You’re married!”

 

Stevens: “Ugh.”

 

JD, probably not playing his smartest, heads to the center of the ring, his staff in hands. He looks to his left to see Silent, looks to his right, to see Annie. He motions for the two of them to attack him, and they oblige with no hesitation. Silent swings his cane straight for Jay Dawg’s head, happy with an early decapitation, but JD blocks. Annie chops down low, but JD’s reflexes are just a hair quicker then expected, blocking that blow, and thrusting out with a sidekick, hitting Annie in the chest. The Assassin stagger back, and JD swings at her sword, connecting hard and knocking it from her grip. JD turns back to Silent to see his cane coming straight for him, in an overhead chop, and JD barely uses his Bo to block, double handed cutting off. JD kicks Silent in the chest with a text book front kick, knocking Silent back a step, and swings the staff at his cane, knocking it away from his grip and into the ropes.

 

Stevens: “Whoa! Nice little handiwork with the staff there, I must admit!”

 

JD holds his staff over his head, smiling in victory, but from his left and right, gets a kick to the gut. JD drops his own weapon as he clutches his chest, while Annie and Silent pull him up and throw him into the ropes. JD bounces back to see his two adversaries holding his staff out like a bar, and can’t seem to prevent the inevitable staff assisted clothesline, hooking under his chin, and knocking him flying from mid to end ring. Silent suddenly pulls on the staff, yanking the hardcore queen towards him, and with a stiff lariat, knocks her to the mat. Annie hits the mat hard, and has barely enough energy to open her eyelids, to get a good look at the angered glare of the Slaughterer.

 

Stevens: “And Silent cuts short the teamwork of him and Eclectic!”

 

Riley: “I’m surprised it lasted that long in the first place!”

 

Methodically, he drops to one knee, pulling up the arm of Eclectic. He rolls her over, and with a snap, spin down, wrenching her arm into the mat. Annie grasps at her shoulder, rolling away in the process. Silent slowly stalks her, walking forward, a sick smile over his icy face. JD gets to his feet, just out of Silent’s sight, and walks behind the Slaughterer. Annie looks behind Silent, and simply smiles, leaving puzzlement to the Silent one, he spins around, and is knocked down via clothesline by JD. Jay Dawg has no time to gloat, as Annie Eclectic is now at her feet and in his face.

 

Stevens: “All three of these fighters are used to fighting one on one!”

 

Riley: “I want to see some violence! These guys aren’t doing much!”

 

The two competitors slowly stare into each other, Jay Dawg letting his eyelids rise slightly, only to get a closer look at his opponent. They slowly stare into each other, eyes piercing through… like a German Shephard, staring seemingly right through each other. Suddenly, Jay Dawg turns around, and Annie steps beside him and both swing a right hand, connecting in the face of Silent! The Slaughterer stumbles back a step as Annie and JD both pop him with another right hand. The two adversaries punch Silent once more, knocking him into the ropes… suddenly, they link hands and thrust forward, clotheslining Silent over the top rope and to the floor!

 

Stevens: “Jay Dawg and Annie working together! I have to admit, the only alliance I thought I would have saw would have been Jay Dawg and Silent!”

 

JD points to Eclectic, then to the ropes, telling her to run off. Annie looks down to Silent, then back at JD, and runs off the opposite ropes… as Annie bounces back, JD drops to his hands and knees like a table… Annie steps onto Jay Dawg’s back and propels herself high into the air, floating over the top rope with ease. Silent returns to his feet on the outside, only to see a flying Japanese woman looking to crash land on top of him. Annie drives the top of her body into Silent, as the Clansmen tries to block, but only ends up breaking Annie’s fall from the Angel dive. JD takes a step back in the ring, reaching down and grabs his staff, then walks to the ropes. He steps through the top and middle rope, then sits on the second rope, looking at his two opponents. Annie rolls over to the barricade as Silent is at his hands and knees. JD targets Silent, pulling his staff up straight, he jumps off the ring apron, and like he’s pitching a pole, JD drives the tip of the staff right into Silent’s cranium, knocking the man down hard! Annie rushes to JD and kicks him in the back of the ribs, dropping the Dawg to one knee. With ultra quickness, she sidesteps in front of him, and just as he stands up, she pulls him into a facelock, falling back hard, driving him headfirst with DDT, right into Silent’s chest! The crowd erupts in cheers as the Angel takes two out in one shot.

 

Stevens: “Those two are in trouble now!”

 

Riley: “Hmm… maybe I should have picked Eclectic after all!”

 

Annie stands up, bringing Jay Dawg’s staff with her. She looks at the weapon and shakes her head, with a heave, she throws the staff way up the ramp.

 

Riley: “It’s not the size of the shaft that matters to Annie!”

 

Stevens: “I don’t think she even goes up to bat!”

 

Annie looks down at her two rivals, and licks her lips. She drops to her knees, and reaches under the ring apron, and to the fan’s delight, pulls out a table! She stands the wood up over the ring apron, letting it stay folded up. Annie looks to the roaring crowd and points her thumb to her chest, then to the table, then to the two down and out hardcore wrestlers. Deep in the sea of fans, one man can be seen holding a sign, “Wilson is holding me back!” although he will never be seen, it is SJL wrestler CIA.

 

Riley: “I hope Annie wants to get hardcore on the table!”

 

Annie pulls JD up first, pushes him forward, then Irish whips him back into the table! The sickening smack, as Jay Dawg’s back connects with the wood can be heard, but the table doesn’t break. Annie pulls Silent to his feet and into a front facelock. She turns her back to JD and drapes Silent’s arm over shoulder. With a thrust in her legs, Annie launches backward…

 

JD sees the body of Silent fly right for him, and dives out of the way…

 

Annie snap suplexes Silent over her head, and stiffly into the table… Silent’s whole body splatters over the wood, and once Annie sits up, he slides down off the still unharmed table, landing headfirst on the mat. JD gets to his feet, and stands over the carnage caused by the table. He rips the table to the side, and with a simple shove, slides it into the ring. Looking at Silent not wanting to move for the moment, JD turns to Annie, pulling her to her feet, he Irish whips her to the far steps. However the only impact made is from Annie’s shoes, as she springs off the steps and onto the ring apron. Before Jay Dawg can compute what just happened, Annie dives off the ring apron with a clothesline, taking down Jay Dawg the hard way.

 

Stevens: “What a counter by Annie Eclectic! She is on her A-Game tonight!”

 

Annie is promptly back at her feet, and pulls JD to the same position, then with a grab of the back of his neck and pants, rolls him into the ring. Annie hops onto the ring apron, when suddenly a hand grabs her ankle. Before Annie can struggle, she is yanked right off the ring apron and pulled into the clutches of an angry Silent. Annie pulls her arms up but they are brushed aside, and Silent strikes her in the jaw with a deadly elbow strike. Switching his brawling tactics to something with more finesse, he places her in a hammerlock and doubles her over in front. Silent holds the arm, then suddenly lifts his knee, striking it into the shoulder of Annie E.

 

Stevens: “Silent looks to be wanting to finish what he started!”

 

Riley: “Well he knows that any of Annie’s moves that can put him away require a great deal of strength in her arms! This only benefits him and JD!”

 

Silent once again raises his knee into the shoulder blade of Annie E. Brief cries of pain can be heard, as Silent pulls Annie up so she is belly to back, and shoves her into the ring apron, shoulder first. Silent keeps the hammerlock in place, then grabs the back of Annie’s hair, pulling hard so her jaw muscles contract. With a malicious swing, he drives her shoulder into the ring apron once more. Annie keeps her mouth shut, despite the obvious pain she is experiencing from the hands of the Slaughterer. Silent turns to the ring pole, with the hammerlock still in place, she grabs his spare arm, and pulls hard, as Annie passes Silent, he hangs onto the hammerlock and drives her into the pole. CRACK!! Can be heard arena wide as Annie drops to one knee, a hammerlock still applied by the sadistic Silent. He pulls Annie to her feet, and into a facelock, then suddenly snaps back into the mat… and the sickening thud of her head hitting the mat is unbearable for some, humorous by others. The popping sound of her shoulder can be heard as Silent looks down, his violent behavior pleasing him.

 

Stevens: “Oh my god! I think Silent has just taken out any use of Annie’s arm!”

 

Riley: “That poor little lesbian.”

 

Silent looks down to Annie, as she rolls around, rubbing her shoulder in hopes of repairing it. Silent stands up fully, and looks into the ring at JD, who is standing. He looks down at Annie, and a sense of boredom overcomes him. He looks into the ring at JD, a healthier, possibly bigger challenge. Silent rolls into the ring, looking over the table and at JD. The hardcore champ wastes no time, rushing for Silent and swings with a clothesline, Silent ducks the blow with ease, hooks his arm over Jay Dawg’s chest and grapevines his leg, before planting him into the mat with an STO! Silent stands up and shakes his head perhaps he was wrong. He takes a look at the table, and picks it up. Silent takes the table to the corner and drapes it over the top ropes, then turns back to JD. He picks up the hardcore champ and rolls him onto the table.

 

Stevens: “What could Silent have in store for JD!?”

 

Riley: “Fuck that! Why didn’t he pin Annie outside! It is elimination rules!”

 

Silent steps outside the ring, walking along the apron, and climbs to the top rope, stepping on the table. The Jay Dawg haters in the audience begin to cheer, while the Silent haters begin to boo at Silent’s dominance over the hardcore champ. Silent pulls Jay Dawg into a standing headscissors, and holds his arm up high.

 

Stevens: “Don’t tell me he plans to use the Fall from Grace!”

 

Riley: “I dunno! He didn’t try it on the ground!”

 

Suddenly, Jay Dawg drops to his knees, and with one swift swing, goes straight upstairs… DING… Silent’s eyes bulge out as he grabs his groin, the pain from the scrotum blow too much even for him to nosell. Silent drops to his knees, holding his groin and Jay Dawg shakes his head.

 

Stevens: “Not much is a match for Jay Dawg’s treachery and experience!”

 

JD stands Silent up and twists him into a waistlock… as if in unison, all the fans reach for their cameras as Jay Dawg begins to lift…

 

CLICK…

 

The blinding white lights from the flashbulbs can be seen as Silent sails over Jay Dawg’s head…

 

The two men fall to the mat…

 

CRACK!!

 

And the journey ends as Jay Dawg GERMAN SUPLEXES SILENT OFF THE TOP ROPE!!! Silent’s body folds up like an accordion, and he springs up, flipping backward and lands on his chest. JD rolls over to Silent and makes the cover, flipping his adversary over.

 

Stevens: “That will put anyone away!”

 

 

ONE…

 

 

On the outside, Annie Eclectic looks from under the ropes, trying to roll in despite her wounded shoulder…

 

 

 

TWO…

 

 

 

 

 

THREE… NO!! THE INHUMAN CLANSMAN KICKS OUT!!!

 

Riley: “Holy shiznitt arino! Silent just kicked out of that monster suplex!”

 

Stevens: “Ugh! Did you see his body fold up!?”

 

Annie Eclectic rolls into the ring, groping her shoulder as she does so. JD spots her out of the corner of his eye, but gets a kick to the head for turning to face her. JD drops to one knee from the blow, and Annie throws her knee up, right into his forehead. JD stands back up, and with her spare arm, she Irish whips him off the ropes. JD bounces hard off the ropes, and returns to see Annie doubled over, he grabs her arm and bars it over his shoulder then falls straight down with a single arm JD DDT! Annie falls down face first, but before she can even clutch her shoulder, JD hooks into it with a half nelson, and rolls her forward, hooking the legs…

 

ONE…

 

 

 

TWO…

 

 

 

THRE…NO!!! Annie gets her stronger shoulder up!

 

Stevens: “One thing about these hardcore matches, you see extreme resilience that you won’t see anywhere else!”

 

Riley: “Resilience or stubbornness?”

 

Silent is now up as JD shakes his head in disbelief. He gets to his feet, and turns around to see a 248-pound Slaughterer rush for him. CRACK!! And a Roaring Elbow knocks JD down hard to the mat! JD grabs hold of his now very aching jaw, surprised at the sudden pain and spits out a small hint of blood. Silent pulls JD up and into an inverted facelock, kneeling down into a dragon sleeper… Silent pushes JD forward, then snaps back, driving his head into the mat with a sickening Dragon DDT! Jay Dawg’s eyes slowly flutter about, his mouth gagging, but Silent makes the academic cover.

 

ONE…

 

 

TWO…

 

 

THRE…NO!! Jay Dawg gets a shoulder up!

 

Stevens: “Another close call off that Dragon DDT!”

 

Silent show his signs of rage, wanting to make this battle one on one, one way or another. A wounded Angel interrupts him as she clobbers him in the back. Annie pulls Silent to his feet, but the pinnacle of sadism sweeps himself around her and applies a full nelson… and with the driving force in his legs, Dragon suplexes the Hardcore Queen! Annie’s neck and shoulders brutally hit the mat… but…

 

Riley: “Silent isn’t finished!”

 

Silent rolls back up, the full nelson still intact. His teeth begin to show as he coldly stares into Ms. Eclectic. However, Annie’s eyes light up, she kicks back… and Silent suddenly wishes he wore a cup in this match. Annie rushes off the ropes, bounces back, and with her good arm, headlocks Silent and drives him face first into the mat with a running bulldog.

 

Jay Dawg sits up on his side, and growls toward the Angel. He gets to his feet and rushes for her…

 

Annie spots JD out of the corner of her eye, turns around, ducks down and picks Jay Dawg up onto her good shoulder once more, pushes him forward as they both sit out, and crushes Jay Dawg’s jaw over top of her shoulder!

 

Stevens: “Splashdown! Annie has got the pin over JD!”

 

But Silent sits back up just as Jay Dawg passes out on his feet. “AARRRGH!!!” A battle cry of war comes from the mouth of the Hardcore Queen, as she turns to Silent. Before Silent even knows what hit him, Annie scoops him up, not giving a fuck about her bad shoulder, and holds the clansmen in the inverted belly-to-belly. People in the audience begin to fear, as they see the rage in their Angel’s eyes. Annie suddenly sits out, and drives Silent face first into the mat with the Hollowpoint Driver! Silent’s body crumples to the mat in a dead heap as Annie briefly grabs her shoulder…

 

Stevens: “What an insane adrenaline rush by Annie Eclectic!”

 

Riley: “She just picked up Silent and smashed his brains in with that bad shoulder!”

 

Annie makes the cover…

 

ONE…

 

 

 

TWO…

 

 

Suddenly JD shows his signs of life, snapping out of his trance…

 

 

 

THREE…NO! Jay Dawg dives and breaks the cover!

 

Stevens: “Does JD realize this is elimination!?”

 

Riley: “Not only does he want the win! He wants both pins! If you ask me, I think they all do!”

 

JD pulls Annie off of Silent, and with a stiff front kick, knocks her chin about an inch upward. JD swings backward with a mule kick, once more catching Annie in the chin! The Hardcore Queen stays out on her feet as JD leaps in the air, swinging his leg out with the demolishing Thai Roundhouse kick! Annie drops to one knee, two knees, her head shaking violently and her eyes glossy.

 

Stevens: “That move knocked Annie unconscious last month!”

 

JD promptly pulls Annie into a standing headscissors, lifts up, jumps in the air, spins around, and sits out viciously with the deadly piledriver. Annie’s head hits the mat hard, bounces in the air, then lands on her back.

 

Riley: “Who let the Dawg out! W00t! W00t!”

 

JD rolls over and makes the cover, hooking her good arm into the mat as the fans in the arena can only pray.

 

ONE…

 

 

Riley: “Jay Dawg and Silent!”

 

 

TWO…

 

 

 

 

THREE…NO!!! Annie gets her sore freaking shoulder up and feels the sudden jolt from it. Annie rolls toward her corner, her Kendo sword waiting. Silent interrupts JD this time, kicking him hard in the gut.

 

Riley: “Jesus! He’s already back up from that Hollowpoint Driver!”

 

Silent pulls JD into a standing headscissors, but immediately breaks it as he pries JD onto his shoulder, his hands into Jay Dawg’s armpits, he pushes JD high into the air, and falls straight down with the Fall From Grace! Jay Dawg’s head hits first, but caves, letting his shoulders hit, then letting the rest of his body float over top, bending him in two. Silent places his arm over top of Jay Dawg’s legs and simply smiles, knowing it’s him and Eclectic now.

 

ONE…

 

 

 

Annie has a hold of her Kendo sword.

 

 

 

TWO…

 

 

 

Annie walks over…

 

 

 

THREE…CRACK!!! The pin is broken as Annie smashes her Singapore cane into Silent’s cranium!

 

Stevens: “Jesus! They all want the pin!”

 

JD rolls over to his corner, and Silent does the same, grabbing the chain and cane respectively. Silent steps forward to a waiting Annie Eclectic. CRACK!! And an overhead shot drops him to his knees. JD picks himself up and heads to Annie with his chain, but she pivots and swings. CRACK!! JD drops to his knee. Silent takes advantage of Annie’s distraction, and swings with his cane…

 

WHOOSH!!

 

THUNK!!

 

JD takes advantage, swinging at Silent with his chain…

 

WHOOSH!!

 

But the sound of steel hitting cranium is too sick to describe as Silent drops to a knee.

 

JD calls Annie to her feet, and he points to Silent. They both nod, knowing treachery awaits them. However they both swing their respective weapons to the kneeling Silent… CRAAAAAACK!!!!!! The cane drops, and Silent falls backward, eyes rolling into the back of his head. Jay Dawg’s eyes suddenly snap open and he glares at Annie Eclectic, malicious intent indeed. He swings full force, but Annie swings her cane… CRACK!!

 

Who hit?

 

Annie falls to the mat beside Silent, her cane out of her grip, Jay Dawg’s chain over top of her.

 

JD stays standing, as the crowd gets a good look at the Kendo sword broken over top of his head, his legs collapse and he falls forward… right on top of Annie and Silent… the ref looks at it, and makes the count.

 

ONE…

 

 

 

 

TWO…

 

 

 

 

THREE!!!

 

Rammstein’s “Du Haste” hits the speakers to a roaring ovation, many mad at who came out victorious. JD slowly looks up, acknowledging his victory, then passes back out.

 

Funyon: “The winner of this match… AND STILL SWF HARDCORE CHAMPION!!! JAMIE ‘JAY DAWG’ DRAZON!!!”

 

Riley: “Jay Dawg scores the big win over top of two contenders!”

 

Stevens: “I call that lucky! What a battle nonetheless! Stay tuned though, we have both a cage and handicap match!”

 

Commercial hits as JD raises his title.

[Guest BA_Baracus]

The US Airways Arena is engulfed in darkness, and the menacing pound of “The Grudge” rattles the seats, prompting their sitters to get up and-

 

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

 

A light layer of smoke is sprayed out across the stage, illuminated by the flickering white lights, lending an eery setting as a large framed man, once loved now abhorred, steps into view…

 

“Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is scheduled for one fall… and is a HANDI-CAPPED MATCH!”

 

As Chris Raynor steps across the stage, the house lights rise up slightly, and one can see there is no more love for the crowd in him - his face is completely blank, cold, and he walks to the ring without a single hesitation.

 

“Introducing first, from Baton Rouge, Louisianaaa… weighing in at two hundred and fifty pounds… Chriiiiiisss Rayyyynoorrrr!”

 

“Welcome back to Smarkdown, folks,” Mark says, his voice hitting a depressing note. “If you’re just joining us, you’ve missed one hell of a Hardcore battle, but I imagine you’ll see more than enough to make up for it in our next two matches.”

 

“This is my dream card,” Riley snickers. “Magnifico in a Handicapped match - against Chris Wilson and Chris Raynor! A man who’s always hated him and a former friend who hates him - and he’s got a title match next week! And then there’s Sacred taking out Edwin in a cage after this… it’s… it’s the END of the Carnival!”

 

“I wouldn’t say that too soon, Riley… we’ve seen the Carnival survive some pretty hellacious trials, and I’d be willing to bet they can get through this.”

 

Raynor rolls in under the bottom ropes and jumps to his feet, looking out at the crowd. He’s no longer shocked at the reaction he’s getting, and in fact treats it with complete indifference - he shrugs it off and heads to the far corner, leaning back into it and waiting for-

 

"Ah....Ah.ah.....ah....ah.ah...ah..."

 

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

 

"I am the king of this city, top down, windows up, puffing like diddy...."

 

Again the lights drop out, with St. Lunatic’s blasting in the background, and Chris Wilson steps into view, trench coat flowing wildly behind him. He stops on the stage, surveying the crowd and sporting the most sickening smirk one could ever want to see.

 

“His partner, from Miami, Floridaaa… weighing in at two hundred and seventy-three pounds… Chriiiiiisss Wiiillsooooon!”

 

“The arrogance of that man is-”

 

“Completely justified!” Riley interrupts. “He’s the leader of the bestest heel stable EVER… he led his team to a win at Wargames… he’s turned Chris Raynor against the Carnival… he’s grabbed this fed by the balls and said “I’m not taking any more of your crap, woman!” and smackin’ its shit up!”

 

 

…

 

 

“… or something like that.”

 

 

…

 

 

Meanwhile, Wilson removes his sunglasses and pockets them, and, still smiling, saunters down the ramp. He sees a sign in the front row, “WILSON SUCKS!”, and gives a big overblown laugh as he passes it. He climbs up onto the apron and looks across the ring at his partner… then begins a polite round of applause.

 

“Applause well earned, Mark!”

 

“Stop clapping, you tool.”

 

“Ouch.”

 

Wilson steps through the ropes and removes his trench coat, passing it off to the ref before he approaches Raynor. Raynor isn’t exactly jumping for joy at his arrival, so Wilson keeps a respectable distance and tone as they begin their scheming…

 

“UNO!”

 

“DOS!”

 

“TRES!”

 

“CUATRO!”

 

Four well-timed pyros ignite with each word, and the fans in the US Airways Arena are on their feet and screaming as the SWF’s resident kooky luchadore bounces out from behind the curtain, Mexican Flag in hand! He goes about his business of crowd whoring, waving his flag over the heads of the fans in the front row, as Funyon gets his announce on.

 

“Their opponent, hailing from Mexico City… weighing in at one hundred and ninety pounds… El Luchadooooooooore Maaaaagniiiiiificoooooo!”

 

Magnifico heads down the ramp, holding his flag high and riling up the crowd, purposely keeping his eyes off the ring, for the moment…

 

“Hey Mark… Chris Wilson and Chris Storm… Chris Storm and Chris Raynor… Chris Raynor and Chris Wilson! Y2Chris has come full circle!”

 

“Ugh… well, I suppose there is an upside to that… their catchphrase can’t possibly be as bad as the last one.”

 

“That’s what I like about you - always looking at the positive side!”

 

ELM leaps onto the apron and puts his back to the ring, giving his flag one more triumphant wave… then he hands it down to some random ringside assistant and flips backwards over the top rope into the ring. From there he puts himself in the corner opposite his two foes, and waits…

 

*DING DING DING*

 

Wilson immediately takes a run for Magnifico-

 

-and Raynor pulls him back!

 

“Um… what?”

 

Raynor and Wilson begin sharing a few secretive nods and whispers… then Raynor takes a few steps out to meet Magnifico, while Wilson stays in the corner.

 

“Uh… I’m confused.” says Mark. “They don’t need to do this one on one, this is a non-tag affair.”

 

“Christ, Mark, you’re supposed to be the smart one. What’s Raynor been saying all along?”

 

“… that it’s his time for the spotlight?”

 

“Yea… and what better way to grab it than to beat a former World Champion by HIMSELF?”

 

Wilson nods approvingly as Raynor and Magnifico meet face to face in the center of the ring. Mags immediately begins a hideously vile-sounding Spanish Diatribe-

 

*BAM*

 

-that’s cut off by a lightning quick right hand by Raynor! A second, a third, then Raynor takes him by the hand and Irish Whips him into the ropes. Magnifico comes back blazingly fast, and Raynor bends down for a Back Body drop, but ELM baseball slides right beneath him and pops to his feet! Raynor whirls in time just to be sent flying back with a picturesque dropkick!

 

Raynor shakes his head clear, and suddenly he’s the one being whipped against the ropes. As he rebounds it’s a high leg clothesline right to his throat, flooring him to the mat. Wilson continues to stand in the corner, arms crossed as he shakes his head at the display of Luchadore superiority. ELM goes for a quick cover, but the ref barely has time to get down to his knees before Raynor is kicking out and getting up to his feet. ELM pounds him with some stiff forearms, then whips him into the corner. As the Mexican tries to follow him in, Raynor bounces right out with a hard clothesline, cutting him down in his path. Wilson sighs and gives Raynor a mocking thumbs up, then motions for Raynor to hand the downed number one contender to him. Raynor slowly shakes his head before bending down to pick up ELM, the two men sharing a heated glare…

 

“That sure didn’t look friendly…”

 

Raynor takes ELM by the arm and drags him back him, the Irish Whip- no, it’s reversed! Raynor’s sent into the ropes, and Magnifico positions himself-

 

“Look out!”

 

-perfectly for Wilson to attack from behind! He clubs Magnifico on the back of the head with a forearm, and it’s almost a car crash as Raynor comes running back! He manages to stop himself before plowing into the dazed luchadore, and again, a cold stare between the two Chris’s…

 

“I don’t think Raynor wants any help with this at all!”

 

The two begin exchanging volleys of trash talk as Magnifico clears his head and gets to his feet. He looks at his opponents bickering, and decides to make the most of it by falling back into the ropes. As he hits, he shouts “Gringos!” Wilson and Raynor turn just in time to see him take one step out, spring up, and crash into them with a double clothesline! The fans erupt! Magnifico pops to his feet and takes down the quickly rising Raynor with a second clothesline, then he takes Wilson by the hand and slings him into the corner, and follows right behind him, splashing him in the corner!

 

“Magnifico’s on fire!” shouts Mark.

 

“If only…” Riley mutters.

 

ELM then takes Raynor up to his feet and tosses him into the opposite corner, and begins whaling away on him with knife-edge chops!

 

*CRACK*

 

WHOOOOOO!

 

*CRACK*

 

WHOOOOOO!

 

*CRACK*

 

WHOOOOOO!

 

Magnifico pulls back his arm for chop number four, but a somewhat recovered Wilson snares it and whirls him around! He punches Magnifico, with a blatantly closed fist, right in the temple, and the luchadore is knocked silly. Wilson takes him by the arm and whips him - no, pulls him back, right into a hard raised knee! He stiffs Magnifico again, and again, and after a fourth knee, he clubs him over the back of the head, and ELM drops to the canvas. Wilson smirks at the fans, who are booing up a storm, then he starts to bend down-

 

-and is shoved out of the way by Raynor!

 

“Yea! Go get you some, boy-eeeee!”

 

“… Riley, that was the gayest thing I think I’ve ever heard.”

 

Raynor stoops down now and drags Magnifico up by his hair as Wilson looks on incredulously. Raynor picks up his one-time tag partner and scoop-slams him down, then falls, dropping the point of his elbow into Magnifico’s chest.

 

“Here’s the cover!”

 

ONE!

 

T- Magnifico quickly kicks out. Raynor climbs back to his feet, and Wilson shoves him back!

 

“This could get ugly…”

 

Raynor points at Magnifico, then looks back at Wilson and says “I don’t need your help.” Wilson begins shouting back, and from here on in it’s mostly unintelligible.

 

“I’m thinking Raynor should shut up and take the help,” Mark ponders. “Just a thought.”

 

“Oh yea, Stevens? How else is he gonna prove that he can hold his own?”

 

“He can prove it another night, Stubby made this a handicap for a reason!”

 

“Just stay out of my way!” shouts Raynor, before he heads back to Magnifico, who’s made it up to his knees. Raynor grabs him by the hair again-

 

*FWOOSH*

 

Magnifico bolts upright and jumps, landing a spinning heel quick square into Raynor’s jaw! The ex-Carny is sent fling back into the ropes, and he latches on to the top one to catch his balance. Magnifico lands on his feet, and is immediately blitzed by Wilson! The evil genius clocks Mags in the face with an elbow, then pushes him chest-first into the corner. Magnifico rebounds off and turns around, covering his chest, leaving his midsection wide open for a SPEAR! SPEAR! SPEAR! Wilson drives Magnifico into the mat, and makes a cover!

 

ONE!

 

TW- Magnifico gets the shoulder up!

 

Wilson rolls to his feet, bringing Magnifico with him, then he whips him into the far ropes. He then drops down, for a back body drop-

 

*THUD*

 

-and looks up to see Raynor just hit him with a drop toe hold! Raynor rolls over and applies a front facelock, and he slowly drags Magnifico back to his feet! Wilson scowls and looks on, as Raynor hooks Magnifico’s arm and Snap-Suplexes him up and over, rolling into a pin!

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

T- Again, Magnifico kicks out!

 

Raynor barely rolls off before Wilson begins kicking the living snot out of the wily Mexican, boot after boot after boot after boot after boot after boot… And, oddly enough, Raynor gets to his feet… and joins him!

 

“Well, they can agree on something at least.”

 

Then they both stoop down and take ahold of one of Magnifico’s arms each, and pull him up. Raynor begins to drag him to the corner, while Wilson tries to scoop him up… it ends up being a very awkward tug of war…

 

“Raynor just wants to prove himself… Wilson just wants to beat up a Carny… these things aren’t clicking, Riley…”

 

Raynor again shoots an icy look at Wilson, but Wilson calmly looks at him and begins talking…

 

“I… can’t make out what they’re saying… can you?”

 

“Nuh uh…”

 

After a few moments, Raynor begrudgingly nods, and then the two take their respective Magnifico arms and drag them, along with the luchadore they’re attached to, over to one end of the ring, then double whip him into the ropes. Raynor holds out his arm, waiting for Wilson to latch on for the double clothesline, but Wilson instead runs ahead and gives a running jump, bringing his knee right into Magnifico’s face after he rebounds off! Magnifico hits the mat, and a small trickle of blood begins to flow from his nose. Wilson picks him up off the mat and flings him over the top rope to the outside, while Raynor just kicks himself mentally.

 

“This is… really odd, Riley.”

 

“You’re telling me. I’m not sure which guy to root for, since they’re obviously not on the same team…”

 

Wilson drags Magnifico around ringside, having to stop a few times because his prey keeps falling to his knees. He finally gets the wily Mexican up to his feet, and he hooks Mags’ arm and Irish Whips him…

 

“He’s going right into those stairs!”

 

Raynor quickly sprints across the ring, and he baseball slides into Magnifico before he hit’s the steps! Magnifico’s course is violently changed, and he goes flying into the padded guardwall instead! Wilson is absolutely fuming! Raynor rolls out of the ring, collects the muddled heap called Magnifico, and rolls him back into the ring, then goes for the cover!

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

T- Magnifico gets his shoulder up! Raynor rolls to his feet-

 

*FWOOSH*

 

*THUD*

 

Wilson grabs his feet and pulls them out from under him and drags him out of the ring!

 

“Here we go!”

 

Raynor lands on his face, and immediately pushes himself up, but Wilson is instantly on him with a flurry of right hands - he blocks a punch from Raynor, grabs his wrist, and-

 

*CRASH*

 

“-whips him right into the steps that were meant for Magnifico!”

 

“This is becoming a Triple Threat!”

 

Wilson looks down at Raynor, shaking his head, and says “Watch and learn.” He then rolls back into the ring and tackles poor Magnifico, who was just getting up to his feet, and-

 

“Come on now ref!” Mark protests, “That’s a blatant choke!”

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

THREE!

 

FOUR!

 

FI- Wilson quickly slips his hand from around Magnifico’s throat… then wraps it back around!

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

THREE!

 

FOUR!

 

FI- Wilson removes his hand again, and gets to his feet, leaving Magnifico on the ground, gasping for air. Wilson takes a little victory stroll around the ring, giving a mocking smile and wave to all of his admirers…

 

… suddenly, a cheer rises up! Wilson snaps his head around, just in time for a HEEE-YUGE boot to the face from Raynor! Wilson’s head snaps off the canvas and after a quick muscle spasm, he lies perfectly still. The crowd actually seems to be cheering Raynor…

 

… until he grabs Magnifico and jerks him up to his feet, hooks the leg,-

 

“Forward legsweep… here’s the cover!”

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

T- Magnifico suddenly kicks up, and scissors’ Raynor’s head! He flips the ex-Carny over and rolls him up!

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

T

H

R

E

E

E

E- NO! Raynor kicks out at just the last second! Raynor rolls to his feet, and is caught completely off guard as a second wind has Magnifico up before him! The kooky luchadore gives Raynor a stiff kick to the gut, then locks in a front-facelock, backs up into a corner, and springs off the ropes, spinning midair and spiking Raynor’s head down in a Tornado DDT! Another cover!

 

ONE!

 

TW- Wilson snags Magnifico’s leg and drags him off!

 

“Come on Magnifico!” shouts Mark. “Objectivism be damned!”

 

Magnifico kip-ups to a huge response, then he shoves a now-risen Wilson into the ropes. Wilson comes awkwardly back, and Magnifico jumps straight up, wraps his legs around the evil genius’ neck, and flips over backwards for-

 

“-a perfectly executed Hurricanrana!”

 

Again Magnifico jumps to his feet, and he pumps his fists to the crowd, who start a “MAG-NI-FI-CO!” *clap clap clapclapclap* chant in response! He turns around and sees both Wilson and Raynor clambering up to their feet, and makes a judgment call to go for Raynor this time. He takes him by the hand and whips him into the ropes - coming back, Magnifico delivers a jaw-shattering reverse elbow! Raynor rolls to the outside, clutching his mouth.

 

From the other end of the ring, Wilson makes a blind charge, and pays for it as Magnifico simply steps out of the way - Wilson ends up going chest-first into the corner, and he stumbles out backwards right into a backslide!

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

“THREEEEEEEE-NO! Wilson kicked out! I thought he had ‘em there, Riley.”

 

Wilson opts to take the same route as Raynor, and he too rolls to the outside. No sooner does he land on his feet next to Raynor does Magnifico springboard off the second turnbuckle and leap over the top rope, into a double cross body! The crowd ROARS with approval as the bouncy Mexican jumps to his feet and shouts Spanish gibberish to his many many fans! He then stoops down and takes BOTH Chris’s by the hair, and heaves them into the ring!

 

“That idiot! He could just roll one of them in and have a much easier time!”

 

“Riley!”

 

“I mean, uh, get his ass kicked LESS than if he rolled them in both.”

 

“That’s better.”

 

Raynor’s up to his knees now, via the ropes, while Wilson’s made the transition from being propped up on one elbow to two. Magnifico duly notes this, and he grabs Raynor from the ropes and stands back to back, hooking his arms as if for a backslide…

 

“Baja California Crusher, coming right up!”

 

Wilson looks up to see Magnifico running to the corner closest to him… his eyes then spot the ref, standing behind them… he quicky dives out, and drives his right arm up between Magnifico’s legs!

 

“Low blow - and the ref was behind Magnifico - Raynor blocked the view!”

 

“Not intentionally! He was kinda being dragged along, you know.”

 

Magnifico unhooks Raynor’s arms, allowing him to fall back down to the canvas. Wilson collapses again from the exhaustion, and all three men are down.

 

ONE!

 

“The referee’s beginning his ten count…”

 

TWO!

 

THREE!

 

FOUR!

 

“Let’s go Rayson, let’s go!” *clap clap*

 

“… Bobby, what the hell was that?”

 

FIVE!

 

Wilson and Magnifico have found the ropes… the beautiful, beautiful ropes… erm, anyway, and have begun pulling themselves up. Raynor has forsake the ropes, and instead just pulls himself up to one knee… and promptly falls over again.

 

SIX!

 

SEVEN!

 

“Looks like Wilson’s up to his feet, but he doesn’t look like he’s in any hurry to continue this fight…”

 

“He’s lulling Mags into a false sense of security, that’s all!”

 

EIGHT!

 

Raynor gets to his feet, just long enough to fall into the ropes. He snares the top and hangs on for dear life, keeping himself upright…

 

NINE!

 

Magnifico finally pulls himself up, using the ropes, and the turned Carnie charges at him. But ELM’s ready, and he leans over as his opponent closes in, and shortly thereafter Raynor finds himself being back body dropped over the top rope to the floor below!

 

“Magnifico sure was ready for that!” applauds Stevens as Raynor rolls on the floor in front of him. “And now its down to Mag and only one Chris, that being the one whose been consistently evil, up in the ring.”

 

“The dirty Mexican got lucky with Raynor,” assures Riley, “but you know it’s not going to happen against Wilson, who’s sure to have his emotions in check.”

 

Wilson stands in the center of the ring, breathing heavily, surveying the weary Magnifico. The two men lock eyes, then ELM sprints at Wilson, who takes one heavy step and lunges at his foe. They trade hard shots, with Wilson and his size and strength advantage leading to a quick victory in the slugfest. He shoves ELM into the corner and cocks back, unleashing a nasty knife-edge chop across the tanned, bare chest of the Carnie.

 

WOOOOOOOOO!

 

Wilson spins around, shaking off the affects of his strike on himself, before resetting and letting loose again. Once again, the crowd responds how they’ve been trained to do so.

 

WOOOOOOOOO!

 

Mag looks like he’s being branded as he winces in pain, chest starting to turn a tad red. The crowd boo’s loudly as Wilson smiles, taking a little break for resetting…

 

…and getting head butted right in the jaw by Magnifico!

 

“That’s fighting dirty!” shouts Riley in disgust.

 

“That’s fighting to defend yourself when you’ve been put in a handicapped match against two very twisted men!”

 

“GRRR…I hate you stupid idealistic faces!”

 

Wilson is knocked away, reeling. He gently touches his jaw, but his moment of reprieve is broken up by ELM charging out of the corner and grabbing him from behind, slamming him down hard to the mat right on his face. The ring shakes on impact and the crowd starts to cheer wildly for their hero as Wilson bounces over onto his back and ELM hops over to the outside of the ring. From there, he stretches back the top rope and pulls himself up into the air, spinning around and landing gracefully on the top rope. Facing the adoring crowd, he springs backwards, floating in the air…

 

…and comes crashing down on Wilson with a perfect moonsault, driving the air out of the evil genius!

 

“Let him do all the flippy-de-doo-dah stuff he wants,” concedes Riley as Raynor pulls himself up to his feet on the time keeper’s table, then staggers to the apron, “because Raynor’s back up!” Mag rolls off of Wilson, sees this rising threat, and he sprints at the ropes, grabbing on just to give himself some momentum as he comes down with a missile dropkick, blasting Raynor’s face inside out!

 

“FOIK!” shrieks Riley while the crowd explodes, and Raynor goes flying off the apron into the announce table again! Magnifico is running on an adrenaline high, and sensing no immediate danger from Wilson he pops right back up to his feet and heads to the outside. ELM pulls Raynor up and strains to heave him up over his shoulder. He takes a step towards the announce table and tosses him down on it, the twisted Carnie’s jaw bouncing off of the solid table and starting a nifty chain reaction as the rest of him follows suit, falling to the floor. Magnifico realizes he has the match down to a one-on-one situation, and he prepares to take full advantage of that, hopping up to the apron and beginning to pull himself up onto the top as Wilson tries to get up to his feet. The Magnificent Seven leader is failing horribly at his quest, as he turns towards the corner and finds one hundred and ninety pounds of Latin coming at him in the form of a flying cross body…

 

…but Wilson isn’t as out of it as he appears, catching ELM in mid-air and continuing the momentum right down to the mat in the form of a powerslam! He immediately slips on a front facelock, grabbing onto the Mexican’s waistband and lifting him up to his feet. Muscles rippling, Wilson lifts ELM straight into the air, holding him there for a moment to show off to the crowd before dropping straight back and spiking his adversary to the mat with a brainbuster. He remains seated a moment, trying to compose himself, before pointing up the top rope. The crowd boos loudly as he slowly spins his forearms around each other, foreshadowing an eViiiil 450 splash.

 

“Wilson is calling for the ‘Earth to McFly’,” states Stevens as Wilson starts to pull himself up to the top, “and that would probably seal the deal on this thing.”

 

“You’re damn right it would,” boasts Riley. “Wilson gives a wink to a very unhappy crowd, then throws himself into the air, spinning around completely and coming down right on to-“

 

“THE COLD, HARD CANVAS!” exclaims Stevens excitedly as the crowd once again has something to cheer about. “EL LUCHADORE MAGNIFICO ROLLS OUT OF THE WAY AT THE LAST SECOND, AND WILSON BITES THE DUST!”

 

“This sucks!” is all Riley can come up with as Wilson bounces hard off of the mat, Magnifico struggling to pull himself up with the ropes. “ELM better hurry if he plans on capitalizing, because Wilson is only going to stay down for so long.”

 

Wilson clutches his stomach in agony, wind driven out of him as he came crashing down onto the front of his torso. He tries to push himself up from his hands and knees, the referee not using the ten count as Magnifico is already up to his feet, albeit leaning very heavily onto the ropes for support. He turns towards Wilson as the evil genius manages to get to one knee, then to a wobbly vertical base. ELM sprints at him and whirls around a spinning heel kick, but Wilson ducks it! He darts around behind Magnifico and laces his arms around in a full nelson, jerking him back up to full height.

 

“Platinum Nightmare!” shouts Stevens. “Wait, Magnifico breaks one arm free and spins back to back with Wilson, intertwining their arms together…and running to the ropes! It’s time for the Baja California Crusher, folks, as Mag climbs up the corner-“

 

Stevens cuts off in surprise as the third man invited to the party has recovered and pulled himself up onto the apron near the corner where ELM is running up, Wilson helplessly following along behind him.

 

“-BUT CHRIS RAYNOR GRABS HIS FEET!” continues Riley, happily. Magnifico can do nothing but try to wiggle himself free, but Raynor is holding tight onto his ankles and working his way up onto the top turnbuckle.

 

“Hey Mark, I betcha Raynor’s never broken an innocent man’s neck.”

 

“He may not have, but he might right now!”

 

Raynor’s sitting on the top rope and Wilson manages to pull himself free, crawling away as the former ICTV champion and beloved fan favorite reels Magnifico in. He lifts him up into the air, standing on the second rope…THEN SLAMS HIM DOWN TO THE MAT WITH A SICKENING SUPERBOMB, FOLDING MAGNIFICO UP LIKE AN ACCORDION!

 

“… but he’s too winded to cover!” shouts Mark, hope springing eternal. “Raynor’s just inches away from Magnifico, but he’s not moving- and what the hell is Wilson doing?”

 

“Getting a chair, you doof.”

 

“Does he not see what just happened? Wilson could cover Magnifico and be done with it!”

 

Wilson snatches Funyon’s seating utensil away from him and hobbles to the ring apron. The ref is utilizing the ten count of Raynor and Magnifico, neither of whom are coming around, when he sees the chair. He drops the count and foolishly puts himself between Wilson and the others- a polite shove fixes that problem.

 

“I said Hallelujah… to the-”

 

It doesn’t matter what the rest is, it’s cut off by an enormous roar from the crowd as Edwin MacPhisto bolts down the rampway!

 

“Edwin’s here! Edwin’s here!”

 

“The fool! Would you run down at a time like this if you were about to be in a cage match?!”

 

“It’s called friendship, you little prick.”

 

The Crown Prince slides into the ring, pops to his feet, and immediately ducks down again to avoid a chairshot! Wilson swings right past him, and Edwin jumps to his feet behind him and keeps running - he hits the ropes and comes off-

 

“Springing Sidekick!”

 

Wilson stumbles to his feet, wondering what the hell Edwin’s got in his boot, and therefore is right open for a Midnight Special! Wilson’s head snaps off the canvas, and he rolls to the outside… Edwin heads to the ropes to make chase…

 

“Wait- Kivell is calling for the bell!”

 

*DING DING DING*

 

… but Wilson jumps up and grabs Edwin’s head, and drags it back down across the top rope! Edwin is caught off guard by the sudden inability to breathe, and Wilson grabs his legs and yanks him down and out through the rope-

 

In the ring, Raynor is now draping an arm over Magnifico, waiting…

 

 

…

 

 

… where’s that goddamned ref?

 

“Ladies and gentlemen, the winners of this bout, as a result of a disqualification… Chris Wilson and Chris Ray-”

 

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

 

Raynor groggily picks his head up, as he could have sworn he just heard mention of a disqualification… Why is my music playing? … He swivels his head around to see Edwin and Wilson trading blows on the outside.

 

Son of a bitch.

 

A horde of officials suddenly pour out of the back, and get to the arduous task of separating Edwin and Wilson. It takes four of them just to keep them from swinging more, and six to actually get them apart.

 

“I don’t think either party’s gonna be happy with that decision, Riley.”

 

“Y2Chris rules!”

 

“Stop calling them that. We’re gonna try to get all of this sorted out, folks, because we‘ve got a cage match scheduled in just a few minutes. It’s Edwin, it’s Sacred, and it’s four walls of pure steel! Stay tuned!”

 

We’re left with Magnifico starting to come to in the middle of the ring… Edwin finally giving in and going up the ramp under his own power… Wilson still being held back by officials… and Raynor hobbling around the apron, glaring back up the ramp…

[Guest BA_Baracus]

The Smarktron crackles black and white, and footage of wars, riots, and fascist rallies erupt on the screen, drawing a large chorus of boos from the US Airways Arena.

 

“Welcome back to SWF Smarkdown…”

 

And the arena falls into total darkness…before the light slowly returns, as “Darkest Days” begins to crunch over the speakers!

 

“…and welcome back to our main event!” shouts Mark Stevens over the jeering crowd. “A long-standing rivalry resurfaces tonight…let’s go to Funyon for the official word!”

 

“The following contest is our main event, and it is a cage match! To win, you must escape the cage and touch both feet to the ground! Entering first, weighing in at 231 pounds and hailing from Adelaide, Australia…he is a member of Creative Control, and is accompanied by tonight’s ringside enforcer, Lerrin Breggan…he is…Saaaaaaaacred!” The arena erupts with boos once more as Sacred and Breggan appear on the entrance stage, stalking down the ramp towards the 15-foot tall steel cage!

 

“We’re gonna see some blood tonight!” cackles Riley. “One lone Carnie against two people—this is a great trend in booking, Mark! I say we stick with it!” Sacred makes his way to ringside and bumps fists with Breggan before heading up the steps and through the cage door…

 

…when the arena falls dark again, drawing a big set of cheers! “And his opponent,” booms Funyon, as “Battleflag” starts to hover over the soundsystem…

 

“What a banner night, eh? Ambushes and assaults, excitement and delight, and a whole lot of chaos! Stubby, you think you can break up the Carnival with your bruisers and your ‘creative’ booking…well, think again, buster! We’ve cut out the chaff, bested all comers, and now you’ve gone and done it—you put one pissed-off Brit in a cage with a crazy Aussie? Do you LUST for high medical bills, Stubby? This dance is about to take off, so goodnight, hallelujah, and here he comes!”

 

“I said hallelujah!” A riotous explosion of pyro rocks the entrance stage, and Edwin MacPhisto steps out onto the entrance ramp, light glimmering off the Heavyweight Title fastened to his waist…

 

“Weighing in at 239 pounds, from Amsterdam, England, he is the leader of the Midnight Carnival and YOUR S-W-F World Heavyweight Champion…Edwiiin MacPhistOOOOO!” The crowd cheers as Edwin strolls down to ringside, slapping hands with the fans, still cringing at the occasional boos and rebellious “RAY-NOR!” chants scattered throughout the arena.

 

“Things are heating up between Carnies past and present,” says Mark, “as we’ve seen Raynor and Edwin come to issue already tonight, with Edwin aiding El Luchadore Magnifico against the latest Y2Chris--”

 

“Enough about Mag, enough about Edwin!” shouts Riley, as Edwin passes off his gear and climbs into the ring. “Tonight is about Sacred, and his chance to knock off the world champ!” The referee locks the cage behind the two men, and Lerrin Breggan paces at ringside…

 

DING DING DING!

 

The bell rings, and the two competitors start to circle up, Sacred taking an aggressive crouched stance, shooting grinning glances at Lerrin Breggan through the steel mesh. “One shark inside the cage, and one shark outside!” says Mark Stevens, as Edwin MacPhisto glances back and forth between his assailants. “Edwin’s got a load of trouble inside the ring…and perhaps even more if he manages to get out!” The world champ circles around Sacred as the Aussie darts from side to side, looking for an opening…and Sacred suddenly rockets forward, swinging at Edwin with a wild forearm! Edwin ducks under, spins, and launches a palm blow of his own—no, Sacred deflects and follows through with a sharp forearm to the face! He pops Edwin with another, then drops and spins, extending his leg and sweeping the Mac Daddy down to the mat! Edwin hits canvas, but rolls out to the side just in time to avoid a big Sacred stomp, scrambling back to his feet and scoring a side waistlock—no, Sacred thrashes out and gets the standing switch, snaking Edwin’s arms behind him and trying to lace the double-chickenwing.

 

“Tiger suplex comin’ up!” quips Riley, but a stomp backwards and a twist out finds Edwin reversing the attempted chicken-wing into an armlock of his own! Edwin steps forward and slings Sacred towards the ropes, and as the Aussie bounces back, the world champ lunges forward with a palm strike…and connects, dropping Sacred to the mat with a solid chest-shot!

 

“Sacred went for that tiger suplex too soon,” comments Stevens, “and paid for it at the hands of Edwin’s mighty shotei. Keep in mind that Edwin’s had a week off since the pay-per-view, whereas Sacred wrestled on Storm in a match that wasn’t kind to his already damaged ribs—he’s got a ways to go before he gets Edwin’s condition down to his level.”

 

“It’s a front office conspiracy!” snaps Riley.

 

“Bobby, Stubby books the matches! Sacred’s in with Stubby! Stubby booked THIS match!”

 

“…well, then why isn’t Lerrin Breggan in the cage too? Huh?”

 

“Because that’d be retarded!” As the announcers bicker, Edwin comes back towards Sacred, pulling him up for another whip, but this time Sacred shifts his weight and reverses. Edwin goes for the ride and bounces back, and Sacred hits the mat as Edwin sails over him. The Mac Daddy rebounds off the other ropes to a big cheer…and Sacred silences the cheer, rising up and leaping forward to level Edwin with a flying forearm! Edwin scrambles back to his feet immediately but Sacred trips him up again with a stiff kick to the right knee. Edwin goes down…and Sacred immediately pops him head-on in the face with a thrust kick! “Solid sequence from Sacred, taking our world champ down—I tell you, Bobby, Sacred is main-event material for sure. As long as he can get his emotional issues in hand and control his temper, he can hang with anyone here.” The methodical Aussie yanks Edwin by the hair, pulling him up to a seated position, and begins to wail away on his face with forearm blows. The crowd boos mount as Sacred releases Edwin, backs off a few steps, and then the jeers peak as he comes back around with a diving forearm to the jaw, dropping the Mac Daddy right back to the mat!

 

Outside the ring, Lerrin Breggan gets a little clap going, smirking at the crowd as Sacred gets back to his feet, breathing heavily and intensely. He stalks back towards Edwin as the Crown Prince pushes himself up off the mat…and delivers a swift boot to Edwin’s side, dropping him right back onto his chest! Edwin hits the mat, and Sacred quickly walks over him, stepping right across his cheek and pivoting on his boot as he walks over!

 

“Utter disrespect for our world champion!” rails Mark Stevens. “Sacred’s thriving inside that cage, without anyone to stop him or hold him back—he dismantled Renegade in a no-DQ affair at Apocalypse, and he could do it again here!” Edwin clutches at his cheek and cries out in pain, but there’s little time to rest as Sacred pulls him up off the mat, hits a kneelift to the gut, and quickly laces a front facelock!

 

“Cruel Fate already!”

 

But Edwin’s still kicking, and a forward dash drives Sacred backwards and into the ropes. Sacred’s back meets cage wall, forcing him to release the facelock. Edwin shoves up and out and reverses into a waistlock, looking for a belly-to-belly, but the resourceful Sacred swings forward with a knife-edge chop, lighting up Edwin’s chest and breaking the hold! The Sacred One drives another chop into Edwin’s chest, but this time the Mac Daddy retaliates with one of his own…

 

“WOO!”

 

And as the crowd cheers, Edwin’s chop lands right across Sacred’s ribs and draws a cry of pain! Edwin cocks his head as Sacred winces, and then fires off another chop…

 

“WOO!” And Sacred lets out another cry!

 

“Sacred started the chop war, and that might have been a mistake!” explains Stevens. Edwin fires off a sharp shotei right into Sacred’s ribs, drawing another cry of pain and an aggressive rattle of the cage wall from Lerrin Breggan. The world champ blows a raspberry at the big Creative Control bruiser, then throws an arm across Sacred’s chest and grapevines his leg, yanking backwards…

 

…and pasting Sacred’s chest to the mat with a reverse Russian legsweep! The fans pop as Sacred hits hard, immediately rolling onto his back and clutching at his ribs! “Damn that MacPhisto!” sneers Riley. “That’s just low!”

 

“Creative Control has got it in for the Carnies tonight, Bobby—Edwin’s got to take any chance he can get…and there he goes! Edwin’s on his way up!” As Sacred tries to work through the pain, Edwin hops onto the ropes and starts pulling himself up the 15 feet of steel cage, casting occasional glances down at Sacred, on the mat, still on the mat, gone…

 

…wait, gone?

 

“Look out, Edwin!” And Sacred shoots up from below, grabbing Edwin’s leg and tearing him off the cage! The Mac Daddy falls fast and unprotected, landing throat-first across the top rope and bouncing off and away in pain! Edwin stumbles back around…and Sacred blasts him with the Harlem sidekick, flooring the Mac Daddy! “Quick thinking from Sacred, yanking Edwin off the cage and using a striking attack that keeps Edwin out of range of those ribs!” The Aussie clutches at his ribs, massaging out the pain and sneering out of the cage at the fans as he moves to the cage wall next to Edwin, getting one foot on the bottom rope and one on the second. “Sacred’s going to climb…”

 

“I think not, Mark!”

 

Lerrin gives Sacred a sign, and Sacred nods an evil grin before bouncing up off the ropes, pushing back…and dropping a big leg right across Edwin’s throat! “Guillotine legdrop from Sacred,” calls Stevens as Edwin convulses with shock, “and NOW he’s going to climb!” Indeed, Sacred heads back to his point of assault, but this time he starts to pull himself up the cage, moving as fast as he can, while the fans alternately boo and start a “MAC-PHIST-OOOOO!” chant, trying to rally the champ…

 

…and succeeding, as Sacred suddenly finds himself stalled about halfway up the cage thanks to a tight grasp on his boot! Choking and sputtering, Edwin has a hold on Sacred’s right boot, and the Aussie kicks and thrashes with his left to no avail as the Mac Daddy pulls him off the cage, securing both legs and holding Sacred high. “What’s Edwin going to do here…” And Mark’s question is answered quickly, as Edwin gives a mighty shout of “timmmmmmber—I’m a super lumberjack!” before sitting out and slamming Sacred down on his chest! “Modified powerslam from the Mac Daddy,” calls Mark over the cheers of the crowd, “and another shot on Sacred’s chest! It’s going to be hard for the Aussie to get up and over the cage if Edwin keeps that assault up…”

 

“And it’s going to be hard for Edwin to get over the cage when Sacred gets really super-pissed and tears him apart!” Edwin drags Sacred up off the mat and then powers forward with a short-arm clothesline to the chest, dropping the Sacred One down once more. The champ drags Sacred up and dashes backwards, then charges forward with another stiff shot, but this time Sacred sees it coming, leapfrogs, and lands gracefully, spinning to meet Edwin with a knee to the gut! The Mac Daddy falters…and Sacred fluidly flows his hands up around Edwin’s neck, bringing him down hard with knee facebuster! “Awesome reversal from Sacred—his ribs are hurting, but his legs are still working just fine!” Edwin pops up off Sacred’s knee and before he can regain his senses, the Sacred One is on him! He wraps Edwin’s own arm around his neck…and falls forward, crunching Edwin into the mat with the Knifey-Spooney! The crowd roars with boos, and both men are down!

 

“Big burst of energy from Sacred, but Sacred’s down too, weary after Edwin’s prolonged assault on his ribs! Whoever gets up first has a big advantage in escaping!” Outside the ring, Lerrin Breggan slams his hands on the apron, shouting at Sacred to get up and start climbing. The two men inside the ring crawl to their feet achingly, Sacred getting up and to the ropes a few moments before Edwin. Unconcerned with his opponent, Sacred starts to climb the cage…but Edwin is right behind him, climbing right next to him! “Both men are on their way out—it’s a race to the top!” shouts Stevens, but the two men pause on the top rope and start to exchange fists and forearms. The fans cheer wildly as Edwin strikes Sacred across the jaw, nearly toppling him back into the ring, but the Sacred One locks his fingers around the steel for balance. Edwin comes back with another fist…and Sacred ducks, swinging his hand up, catching the back of Edwin’s neck, and ramming him face-first into the cage!

 

“Attaboy, Sacred!” hoots Riley. “Process Edwin’s face like so much grated cheese!” Lerrin Breggan and Sacred share a sadistic grin as the Aussie starts to shred dazed Edwin’s visage across the steel, but suddenly Edwin pops an elbow back into Sacred’s jaw! The Creative Control mainstay has to release Edwin and grab at the cage once more to hold himself up, and this time Edwin takes the initiative: he grabs Sacred by the back of the neck with his right hand and pounds the Aussie’s face into the cage, and as the fans start to cheer, the Mac Daddy rakes Sacred back and forth across the steel!

 

“And Sacred is busted open!” shouts Mark, as the crowd cheers for the Aussie’s newly opened wounds. Edwin keeps raking, grinning as the crowd eggs him on, but a fit of rage overcomes Sacred, who shoves backward violently, knocking Edwin off the ropes and back to the center of the ring. The Mac Daddy clambers back to his feet quickly, clutching at his back, and Sacred waits on the top rope, balancing precariously…and leaping off towards Edwin with a scorching fly kick! He rockets towards Edwin…and the Mac Daddy thinks fast, catching Sacred and floating him over into a big powerslam! “Reversal from Edwin—Sacred’s letting his emotions get out of control again!” warns Stevens. “He should have started climbing the cage instead of going after Edwin—and now Edwin’s on his way up the cage! That mistake’s gonna hurt!”

 

Sacred writhes on the mat, threads of blood dripping down his face as he pounds the canvas in pain, while the world champ claws his way up the steel. “If Edwin gets over the top,” cackles Riley, “then Breggan’s going to destroy him! Me, I’d stay in the ring with the crazy Aussie myself, but noooo, Edwin’s got too much pride!” The Mac Daddy nears the top of the cage, about four feet from the top…three feet…

 

…and then Lerrin Breggan hops up onto the apron, driving his entire body weight into the side of the cage! “No way!” shouts Mark Stevens, and the fans gasp as the impact shakes the cage wall violently, knocking Edwin clear off the steel and back towards the center of the ring!

 

WHAM!

 

Edwin collides back-first onto the canvas as flashbulbs and boos erupt, and Breggan dismounts from the apron, smirking all the while! “That kind of honest teamwork is what puts Creative Control on top!” snickers Riley.

 

“Honest teamwork? Breggan just robbed Edwin!”

 

“No, he’s helping him!”

 

“…how?!?”

 

“Well, if Edwin’s ever on the side of a cliff 12 feet above a somewhat cushioned wrestling ring, and he either has to jump or fight an angry bear…now he’ll know what to do!”

 

In the ring, Sacred sees—and feels—Edwin thump into the canvas, and he starts to make his move! Mostly recovered, the Sacred One gets to his feet, gives Edwin a disrespectful stomp to the head, and then clutches his ribs as he makes for the ropes. “Thanks to Breggan, Sacred has a big opportunity here,” calls Stevens, and the Aussie crawls up the cage…and stops halfway, crying out in pain! “The strain of supporting himself is putting a heavy toll on Sacred’s ribs!” comments Stevens, relieved. “Edwin’s palm strikes and powerslams have made their mark for sure!” On the cage, Sacred winces and pulls himself another foot, then another, but has to pause to clutch at his ribs after that…and a hand suddenly shoots up to grab his boot! The crowd roars as Edwin MacPhisto is up again, using his height to reach out and touch Sacred, and with one desperate tug, yank him down the cage! Sacred tries to hold on, but the grounded Edwin has the leverage advantage, and the Aussie slides down the steel, bumping along as he goes!

 

“Damn you and your cheating, Edwin!”

 

“He pulled him off the cage! That’s what you do!”

 

“It was an illegal nerve hold!”

 

“…on his BOOT?”

 

“Boots have feelings too, Mark. Don’t you, Booty?” As Riley converses with his footwear, Edwin secures Sacred and steps forward for a whip, but Sacred plants his feet, spins, and launches a forearm blow right into Edwin’s chin, snapping his head backwards with a solid crack! Rage in his eyes and streams of crimson dripping down his face, the irate Sacred now takes control, launching Edwin across the ring with an Irish (or Australian) whip of his own. The Mac Daddy bounces off and Sacred dashes to meet him, and the crowd starts to roar as Edwin lines up on the return, throwing out his arms…and catching Sacred in a big spinebuster—no, Sacred plants his feet and Edwin fails to budge him, and the Aussie ducks forward and uses Edwin’s momentum to flip him up over his shoulder!

 

“Reversal!” cries Stevens. “Sacred just stopped the Love Rollercoaster spinebuster…”

 

WHAM!

 

“With a spinebuster of his own! Black Number One in the center of the ring—Edwin MacPhisto is down!” The fans boo as Sacred rocks the ring with Edwin’s limp form, and then immediately transitions into a savage boot choke, pressing firmly on Edwin’s throat and causing the champ to thrash. “Sacred has the world champion down and out—rather, down and up! Sacred’s got him up again!” The Aussie breaks the boot choke and roughly tugs Edwin up, shouting and ranting with the rage and fervor of a slighted preacher as he throws his arm across Edwin’s chest, then drives him forward! Sacred lands on his knees and Edwin take the uranage suplex full on his back!

 

“Spanish Inquistion, right after a Black Number One!” cackles Riley. “Sacred’s on fire, and he’s decimating Edwin’s spine!”

 

“All he’s got to do now is climb,” mutters Stevens, watching as Sacred rises, looks to the cage…and doubles back towards the prone Edwin, snagging his right leg and starting to twist away! “So of course, he locks on the Solution 9!” The crowd roars with disapproval as Sacred rolls the defenseless Edwin over into the elevated half-crab, pulling back with tremendous force and cackling away as blood streams down his cheeks! “Once again Sacred’s letting his bitterness get the best of him—he and Edwin are no strangers, and in this violent environment, it’s a grudge-a-minute for the Sacred One! This won’t do him any good!”

 

“Sure it will, Mark!” shouts Riley, as Edwin cries out in pain and struggles for the ropes. “He can break down Edwin’s leg, and then the Mac Daddy won’t be able to climb!”

 

“But while he works over Edwin’s leg, the rest of Edwin’s body gets a chance to rest—all those impacts on the back are going to be wasted! The most direct path to victory is up the cage when your opponent’s down, and Sacred got sadistic instead!”

 

“Oh, come on, Marky Mark. At least we get to hear Edwin scream.” Sacred pumps the leg hard and Edwin cries out, gritting his teeth, crawling desperately as the fans rally behind him…three feet from the ropes…two feet from the ropes…and with one final lunge, Edwin gets his hands around the bottom rope, but Sacred maintains the hold!

 

“Sacred really needs to let off that submission and start to climb while he’s still in control, or Edwin will be up and out of that submission in no time!” Outside the ring, Lerrin Breggan seems to agree, and his shouts of “Climb the damn cage!” finally get through to Sacred, who releases Edwin and rises, moving for the ropes. Sacred takes a step…and Edwin shoots his legs out, snaring Sacred with a drop toehold to plant him on his ribs again! “And that’s what I was talking about, folks!” adds Stevens. “Sacred dawdled and Edwin took him down!” The Sacred One scrambles up quickly as he can and whirls back around, lobbing a boot right into Edwin’s forehead before moving back for the cage, but Edwin is up and dizzily in pursuit, still trying to hold him back. Sacred makes the ropes and starts to climb the cage, but Edwin staggers onto the cage, favoring his strained leg as he hops his way onto the steel! The crowd response picks up as the two men start to struggle upwards, Sacred wincing as his ribs take the pressure and Edwin doing his best to negotiate the cage with a bum leg.

 

“See, Mark? Sacred’s Solution 9 DID pay off! Edwin can’t climb so well--”

 

“And it wouldn’t have mattered if Sacred had just let him be! Sadism gets you nowhere, Bobby, nowhere but a few exciting clubs in New Orleans.”

 

The two men rattle up the cage, and Sacred lashes out at the Carnie to his side, thrashing him with a few slaps and rakes, trying to knock him off the cage, but Edwin fights through, taking the hits to get closer to Sacred. Sacred rears back, looking to pop Edwin off the cage with a big forearm shot, but the Mac Daddy swings his left leg up and around into Sacred’s chest, landing a big impact right on the ribs! “Brutal snap kick hanging on the cage—can Sacred hold on?” And as Edwin fires off a second shot, the answer is a definitive “No!” as the Aussie loses his grasp and plummets 8 feet down to the canvas!

 

“No, no! Get up, Sacred!” Edwin keeps climbing, dragging himself up the cage with two arms and a leg as best he can, agonizing towards the top as Sacred remounts the steel and starts to clatter up beneath him. “Come on Sacred, climb faster!”

 

“He’s not going to make it, Bobby!”

 

“Are you sure?”

 

“Yes!”

 

“You probably ought to tell that to Lerrin, Mark.”

 

“What—ah, dammit!” The reception inside the US Airways Arena darkens as Lerrin Breggan leaps onto the apron a second time, looks up at Edwin…and reaches out, grabbing and shaking the cage! The cage wall goes haywire under Breggan’s immense power, and, just a few feet from the top of the cage, Edwin starts to lose control as one hand slips off the steel! The fans gasp as Edwin dangles by one arm, wincing as he tries to pull himself off…and faltering as Sacred scrambles up behind him, grabbing his legs and pulling! The Mac Daddy slides down the cage…and barely catches himself halfway down, preventing a grotesque fall. “Breggan and Sacred have Edwin on the ropes—chicken-wing! Sacred’s going for that Tiger suplex again—my god, if he hits that off the cage…” Sacred meticulous threads Edwin’s arms, tearing his hands off the cage, and, standing on the top rope, pauses a moment…

 

…and then vaults backward, bringing Edwin up, down, and off the top rope with a spine-crunching super Tiger suplex! “Holy shit!” cries Riley, and the fans agree! “Edwin must be broken in two, and that huge hit didn’t do Sacred any favors either!” Both men are on the ground writhing, for 5 seconds, 10 seconds, 15 seconds, but Sacred agonizingly starts the climb to his feet, favoring his ribs as much as you can really favor such a thing, pulling Edwin up by his hair…and slapping on a front facelock! “Cruel Fate—just like the Tiger suplex, the time is now right!” But before Sacred can plant Edwin, the Mac Daddy summons all his strength and rises up, backdropping Sacred up and over his back—no, Edwin catches Sacred on his shoulder in a Canadian backbreaker rack! The crowd explodes!

 

“Union Jack! Union Jack from the champion, this is it!” Edwin stands still for a few moments, nearly buckling on his Solution 9ed right leg, but he manages to brace himself. Edwin spins…and Sacred thrashes about, slipping off of Edwin’s shoulder as he breaks into a dash, landing on his feet behind the champ! “Edwin took too long with the setup and Sacred got out—BOOT TO THE GUT! GET OUT OF THERE, EDWIN!” Sacred hits a toe kick to double the turning Edwin, and the crowd gasps as the Aussie instinctively flows into the front facelock and the devastating fall-forward…and connects, crushing both Edwin and his own ribs into the canvas with the Cruel Fate!

 

“Edwin’s dead!”

 

“And Sacred’s right there with him!” shouts Mark. “Sacred went to the Cruel Fate purely on instinct, looking for the finishing blow, but in doing so he put a huge impact on his own already-weakened ribs as well! Both men are in a world of hurt right now!” Edwin rolls about on the mat, weakly clutching at his skull, and Sacred lays on his back, trying to sit up and failing with every twinge of pain. Outside the cage, Lerrin Breggan rattles the steel, trying to rally Sacred to his feet…and the Aussie slowly starts to rise, shoving through the pain and getting himself up to one knee!

 

“There we go! Fly, Aussie-boy, fly!” And Sacred pushes up to both feet, stumbling into the cage, desperately wiping the blood out of his eyes, then wiping his hands clean on his pants as he latches onto the steel! Behind him, Edwin MacPhisto begins to recover from the Cruel Fate, staggering to his feet…and falling right back down again, still totally dizzied from the stiff DDT!

 

“Edwin’s in trouble—the Cruel Fate took one hell of a toll on him! He’s got to get up fast if he’s going to catch up with Sacred!”

 

“MAC-PHIST-OOOOO!”

 

“MAC-PHIST-OOOOO!” The fans are behind Edwin, and Sacred is still struggling his way up, four feet, five feet, stopping intermittently to catch his breath…and Edwin staggers to his feet again, this time staying up! Edwin sees Sacred climbing up, Breggan egging him on…and the crowd roars as Edwin breaks into a dash…and leaps, catching the cage and landing right next to Sacred, who derides him with a scowl before continuing to climb! “It’s a race to the top!” shouts Mark Stevens, and the fans are on their feet! “Sacred with bum ribs, Edwin with a bum leg, and the x-factor Breggan on the outside!”

 

The two grapplers keep climbing, pulling themselves up another foot, then another, slowly aching up the cage, peppering each other with soft, deterring shots as they move, 6 feet from the top, 5 feet from the top…and Sacred suddenly lashes out, sliding to the side and wrapping his arm around Edwin’s neck! “He wouldn’t, Bobby!”

 

“He would, Mark! Cruel Fate off of the cage—that’ll kill Edwin! Woo-hoo! Sacred for president!” The Sacred One tries to steady himself and hold Edwin tight, but the Mac Daddy thrashes violently and leaves himself hanging by his right arm as he tears Sacred’s arm off of him! Both men are dangling by one hand, and Sacred lunges in again, once more trying to secure the facelock…but Edwin sees it coming and throws out his free arm, catching Sacred’s neck…in a dragon sleeper! Sacred tries to twist out, but Edwin holds tight and wrenches back as the crowd goes nuts!

 

“CROWN PRINCE CLUTCH ON THE SIDE OF THE CAGE! Edwin’s hanging onto the cage with one arm and Sacred with the other! This is unbelievable!” Not a fan’s in his seat as Edwin chokes away at Sacred…but Sacred resists, and Edwin nearly loses the dragon sleeper.

 

Nearly, mind you.

 

The Mac Daddy looks down to the mat, looks at Sacred’s bloodied visage…and with all his force, locks his dragon sleeper tighter and LETS GO OF THE CAGE!

 

“HOLY SHIT!”

 

And both men fall backwards, Sacred trapped in the dragon sleeper as Edwin legsweeps him off the cage, sending him flopping over and—

 

CRUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUNCH!

 

--into the mat with a devastating Dragon sleeper Russian legsweep!

 

“DRAGON SLEEPER RUSSIAN LEGSWEEP OFF THE CAGE! SACRED LANDED RIGHT ON HIS NECK! HE’S GOT TO BE OUT!” The crowd goes nuts as Sacred lands in a nasty roll and collapses in a crushed heap, while Edwin lays unmoving by his side! “Another huge hit on both men!” Breggan looks on from outside the ring…

 

…and pounds the apron with rage as Edwin sits up and shakes out his head! “Edwin’s up! He’s got this one in the bag, Bobby!”

 

“Not if Sacred uses his jetpack!”

 

“Okay Bobby, now you’re just reaching…”

 

“I can’t help it…” And Edwin moves for the cage, and with a thumbs up to the crowd, locks his hands around the steel and starts to climb! Sacred’s unmoving but for a few limp twitches of his leg as Edwin struggles up the cage wall, still pulling with two arms and one leg, 5 feet, 6 feet, 7 feet, 8 feet, 9 feet…and Lerrin Breggan leaps back onto the apron!

 

“Dammit! Breggan, this is over, Edwin’s won fair and square!” Edwin looks down but keeps climbing, knowing that he has no choice…10 feet…11 feet…12 feet…Breggan locks onto the cage and gets ready to shake…

 

…and the crowd pops?

 

“He’s here! He’s here! El Luchadore Magnifico’s here!” Breggan turns and stares with rage at the man who’s bested him twice bolting down the ring ramp! “Edwin helped Mag against the two Chrisses earlier tonight, and now Magnifico’s repaying the favor!”

 

“But he’s got Edwin for the title on Storm!”

 

“It doesn’t matter, Bobby—he’s a Carnie, and Carnies stick together, dammit!” Magnifico blazes down the ramp as Edwin climbs…13 feet…14 feet…in the ring, Sacred starts to stir as Breggan moves for Magnifico…and Magnifico leaps with a huge crossbody block…that Breggan catches, flipping ELM up onto his shoulders!

 

“Royal Decision!” But Magnifico floats right over Breggan and lands behind him, hooking the arms!

 

“Mag just wanted to get behind Breggan—and he’s going for the apron!”

 

“No, no, no!”

 

15 feet, and Edwin’s at the top…as Magnifico leaps onto the apron and flips backwards!

 

“BAJA CALIFORNIA CRUUUUUUUUUUUSHER!”

 

WHAAAAAM! MAGNIFICO DRILLS BREGGAN’S HEAD INTO THE CONCRETE!

 

“Mag takes out Breggan—Edwin just has to climb down! He’s got this won!” Inside the ring, Sacred dashes forward, leaping towards the cage with all he has left, trying to knock Edwin off…but the Mac Daddy swings over the top of the cage and to the outside, and gingerly starts to climb down the cage! “Edwin’s out! Edwin’s out!” The crowd goes nuts, and Sacred curses loudly in the ring, pounding the cage as Magnifico leaves Breggan laying, hops up onto the apron…and helps Edwin down off the cage, as the Mac Daddy hops from the apron to the concrete, barely holding himself up on his bad leg!

 

DING DING DING!

 

“Your winner by escape—Edwin MacPhistOOOOO!”

 

“He did it, Bobby!” shouts Mark, as “Battleflag” begins to bump. “Edwin barely outlasted Sacred in the cage, getting the win after a sick dragon sleeper legsweep off the cage and a Baja California Crusher from Magnifico to Lerrin Breggan, taking the CC bruiser out of the equation and evening things up a bit! What a match!”

 

“Cheating! All cheating! Magnifico wasn’t a part of this match--”

 

“—and Breggan was, quite unjustly I might add! You know what they say about Mexicans—the great equalizers!” The crowd cheers as Magnifico gets Edwin’s world title…gives it a longing glance…and then passes it off to the Mac Daddy as he helps Edwin up the ramp! The referee unlocks the cage, and Sacred sits in the center of the ring, pounding the canvas and staring out with hate! “The Carnival edged out Creative Control tonight--”

 

“—but on Storm, it’s the end of the Carnival! It’s El Luchadore Magnifico versus Edwin MacPhisto for the World Title! The Carnival’s going to fall apart for good right there!”

 

“I say the Carnival gets even stronger, Bobby, but we’ll have to wait till Storm to see! For Bobby Riley, Ben Hardy, and the whole SWF crew, this is Mark Stevens signing off! This has been SWF Smarkdown!”

 

The crowd cheers the Carnies out of the building as they walk, Edwin holding his title high, Mag taking in the cheers of the crowd…

 

…together, for the last time? How important is the title? How important is the Carnival?

 

Time will tell…

[Guest BA_Baracus]

Singles Match

“Deathwish” Danny Williams vs. Xero

- Your winner by submission...Danny Williams!

 

US Title Match

Tom Flesher © vs. Tod deKindes

- Tom wusses out of the match...damn you Tom, damn your evilness to hell!

 

Singles Match

Ash Ketchum vs. Frost

- Ketchum catches a win.

 

3-Way Hardcore Elimination Match for the SWF Hardcore Title

Jay Dawg© vs. Annie Eclectic vs. Silent

- CC rules...wooo.

 

Handicapped Match

Chris Wilson & Chris Raynor vs. El Luchadore Magnifico

- Your winners...Wilson and Raynor...by DQ. Doesn't get any more exciting than a DQ ending.

 

MAIN EVENT

Steel Cage Match

Edwin MacPhisto vs. Sacred

Ringside Assistant: Lerrin Breggan

- Stupid winning MacPhisto...