SWF Storm (September 6, 2002)

September 7, 2002

*** We are live in the ontarian metropol, as we watch the cameras film the exterior of the recently built Air Canada Center, home of the Toronto Maple Leafs and Raptors. A camera suddenly takes us behind the arena, where we see a rental car park itself near an entrance door. The driver's side door swings open to reveal … Tod deKindes. The fans inside the arena cheer at the sight of their local hero on the Smarktron. After reaching in the trunk to grab his suitcase; Tod, clad in his trendy street clothes, looks around and takes a whiff of fresh air … ***

Tod: Home sweet home …

*** Meanwhile, our Daring Duo supervise the action from their announcer's booth. ***

Stevens: Indeed, as we're coming live to you from Tod's hometown of Toronto, Ontario in beautiful Canada; Tod deKindes can NOT be happy especially considering how his night went last Monday!

*** While Riley thinks up his best jokes about the exchange rate, a helpful series of video clips recall the action that went on for those who weren't there. ***

Riley: The man was INJURED, for crying out loud!! Tom Flesher made a VERY wise call when he went to Suicide King, because God knows how bad it could've been!

Stevens: He was faking it!!!

Riley: How can you fake an injury so bad when you have all this gauze on you???!

*** As the camera follows Tod entering the arena, we see several of the SWF stagehands busy at work (which mostly consists of WALKING!). ***

Stevens: That man right there was denied his U.S. title shot last Monday because Tom Flesher did NOT want to defend his title!! Dare I say he was SCARED of Tod!!

Riley: Scared??

Stevens: Scared!!

Riley: Grand Rally, you make me SO sick that I outta wash out your mouth with LYSOL!!! A fighter the caliber of Tom needs to be prepared for such a title defense against a contender like Tod deKindes! Last Monday, he obviously wasn't ready, hell, he was so nervous that he slipped on a slop bucket and broke his foot!

Stevens: … I thought he slipped on a puddle of water.

Riley: … He's injured!!

Stevens: But not too injured to defend the Lightheavyweight title against Annie Eclectic tonight?

Riley: …Shut up!!

*** After walking a hallway or two, Tod nears the XF9 dressing room, where he sees fellow Niner Ash Ketchum stretching out and limbering up for the big six man tag match later on. ***

Ash: Yo, Todskittles! Big night tonight.

Tod: Yeah, hey … (looks around) Listen, you seen Flesher around?

Ash: That goof? Naw, I haven't seen him. Listen, man, I know you're upset about the crap he pulled last Monday. But I'm sure Sarah can score you another title shot. I saw her around here, just let her know. In the meantime, you ready to kick some Magnificent Seven ASS?! I talked to Xero and he can't WAIT!

Tod: (the aforementionned question really wasn't his top concern) Yeah, we'll give 'em hell … Listen, I'll be back later. If not, I'll see you in the ring.

Ash: Wait, aren't we gonna talk strategy?? … Tod??

*** He rises up from his hurdler's stretch position, only to find his german partner now absent, most likely having dropped off his material in the XF9 dressing room. ***

September 7, 2002

THE CARD

NO-DQ SINGLES MATCH

Chris Raynor vs. Mercury

- Originally scheduled for Apocalypse, Chris Raynor no-showed this match. Well…it’s back on and this time if Raynor doesn’t show up, he’s fired.

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

LIGHT-HEAVYWEIGHT TITLE MATCH

Tom Flesher © vs. Annie Eclectic

- Annie has had her share of trouble with her former stable, the Clan lately and on Storm she will challenge Tom Flesher for his light-heavyweight championship. Annie is more at home in hardcore environment, but can she succeed in the traditionally faster, higher flying LHW division? We’ll find out…

TAG TEAM MATCH

Perfect Bo & Divefire vs. Chris Wilson & The Boston Strangler

- On Smarkdown Divefire made it known that he wants a match with Chris Wilson at the next PPV and on the same show Perfect Bo feels he was cheated out of the ICTV title in a match against Wilson. The two will take on Wilson and his Magnificent 7 associate the Boston Strangler on Storm!

SINGLES MATCH

Lerrin Breggan vs. Longdogger Pete

- These two men’s stable’s certainly don’t like each other and they happen to also posses the two strangest sounding names in the fed. In the words of JR, this should be a highly physical confrontation, but who will be sent running like a scalded dog?

6-MAN TAG MATCH

Ash Ketchum, Tod deKindes & Xero vs. Frost, Danny Williams & "TNT" Taylor Nicholas Thompson

- Ketchum defeated Frost on Storm and when TNT ran down to get involved after the match, Xero came to his aid. It appears as if the two may be on the same page and both are interested in acquiring Frost and TNT’s tag titles. Of course Danny Williams and Xero were a tag team up until about a week ago, when they had a violent falling out and Tod deKindes has his share of history several of the men in this match as well. 6-man tag action this Friday!

SWF HEAVYWEIGHT TITLE MATCH

Edwin MacPhisto © vs. El Luchadore Magnifico

- Edwin has spent months fighting off his bitter rival Chris Wilson, and managed to survive the feud with his title intact, but on Storm he won’t be facing his rival, but the man who is perhaps his last true friend in the entire league! Will Edwin triumph again, or will the champ finally crumble under the pressure?

September 7, 2002

*** The night is young in the A.C.C., as the fans are still enjoying the show. Backstage we go, in an non-descript location in the arena. Ben Hardy is sitting on an anvil case, feet dangling in the air and bumping against the metal container with a slight tapping noise. With a cellphone stuck to his ear, he looks to be in a conversation … ***

Ben: What? … No, I told you I was at work! ………I told you three times that I would have to leave the country this afternoon! You know this job takes me all over the place … OK, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to yell … So, how's everything at home? … Good ………(looks around, as if to make sure no one hears him) Do you miss me? … … (his worried face melts into a grin) Yeah, I miss you too! … Am I coming back? … Well OF COURSE I'm coming back!! Don't be silly!! … You know I wouldn't hurt your feelings like that … All right … Oh, is that the doorbell? Great … Now, Mittens, you make sure Mrs. Sykes feeds you and changes your litter, ok? … Great. Daddy wuvs you sooo much! Bye!!

*** … This author is at a loss for words. ***

*** Ben snaps his phone shut and walks out of the camera shot, as more people circulate throughout the backstage area. The camera sweeps the hallways as a door suddenly slams shut. The cameraman swings into action, as he spots Tod deKindes -changed into his wrestling gear-, angrily searching the halls. ***

Tod: FLESHER!!!

Riley: Oh great, what's he want NOW?

Stevens: It appears as if Tod deKindes still hasn't found Tom Flesher, Bobby.

Tod: Flesher!!! Where the hell are you?!!!

*** He stops an oncoming referee, Sexton Hardcastle, the same referee who would've officiated his title match last Monday. ***

Tod: Hey! Tell me, have you seen Tom Flesher tonight? And if so, tell me where he is …

Sexton: Tom Flesher? I just saw him in the Raptors' lockerroom enjoying a jacuzzi bath with his belt girls. It's down the hall and to the left…

*** Tod starts to head for that direction, but Sexton's next sentence stops him. ***

Sexton: And listen, last Monday, I would've given ya that title, I swear. But y'know, politics got in the way. Sorry 'bout that.

Tod: Don't worry … I'll get that title somehow …Thanks.

*** As Sexton walks off to his planned destination, Tod looks around the place before leaving … and picks up a lead pipe out of the standard pile of Klangy Metal Objects usually reserved for backstage brawls. He thinks that this'll do the job just fine, and turns around to go find a Superior ass to kick, until he finds Sarah Leavenworth in his path. ***

Tod: Move.

Sarah: What are you doing?

Tod: I said move, Sarah.

Sarah: No, *what* are you doing??

Tod: Tom Flesher wants us to believe he's hurt? … I'm about to go convince him of that. Now move.

*** Relentless, the XF9 manager doesn't budge. ***

Sarah: Fine. Go ahead if that's what you want. Go on and attack Tom Flesher. Injure him badly if you want! … If you do that, he'll be injured for real. He'll actually BE unable to compete. And by doing that, you'll be taking away Annie's chance to bring home the Lightheavyweight title. And you'll be taking away YOUR chance of bringing home the United States title, to which I'm currently working on getting you another shot.

*** Tod looks to the floor, clutching his lead implement of destruction tightly; appearing a little miffed that Sarah is actually right. ***

Tod: … All right. You know what? Yeah, you're right. (drops the lead pipe. Klang, klang … ) You work on getting me another title shot. You secure that for me, and THEN I'll give him hell. But in the meantime … you won't mind if I go have a little fun with him, do you?

*** He walks off, leaving his manager a little perplexed; but her look gives it away that she knows he has something in mind. ***

September 7, 2002

As Storm continues, we cut back to backstage, Ben Hardy is standing next to the SWF hardcore champion, Jay Dawg. The gold is over his shoulder, a smirk on his face despite a well-bandaged forehead. He is clearly satisfied that in three days; he will hold a record that will probably not be beat.

Ben: “Hello… I am Ben Hardy and I’m here today with SWF hardcore champion, Jay Dawg.”

Jamie: “Correction sir Benjamin. I am the longest reigning hardcore champ as of Sunday, and have defeated all so-called threats to my title. First, I bring out an extremely dominant stable in the form of Creative Control… I win 3 titles and set records for each one of them… and now, I am officially the King of Hardcore. It’s most likely, whether you like me or you hate me, I’m the best thing going today.”

Ben: “A striking list of accomplishments, JD. However, one must ask the question, what are your thoughts to your Smarkdown victory… being tainted… or better yet… a fluke?”

Jay Dawg suddenly snaps his attention to Hardy, clearly angered at the suggestion.

Jamie: “Excuse me? A fucking fluke? I pinned two people at once, that is not a fluke. The oh so unbeatable Silent and the penis nazi Eclectic… fuck you. I went into that match… knowing Silent was the favourite. But who came out on top? I DID!!! I didn’t beat them individually, I beat them at the same fucking time. I’m the fucking king of hardcore and in time, will fucking rule this league.”

Ben: “You think you are getting a little ahead of yourself? I mean there is certainly many who will take you up on your claim.”

Jamie: “Bring them the fuck on… there is only a few in this league I have to eliminate… and believe me… you will find out in time… and if you think my match on Smarkdown was a fluke… well… we’ll see what you think tonight.”

September 7, 2002

(Stevens): Well, maybe we can get started on some of tonight's great card..

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

(Stevens): Oh crap. Maybe not.

(Riley): Chris Wilson! Maybe things are brightening up! The leader of the Magnificent Seven must have something brilliant and smart to say tonight!

(Stevens): Or he could just blow crap out his ass like usual.

(Riley): Hush, Wilson talkie, you shuttie uppie.

(Stevens): I don't think I have a response to that....

Chris Wilson ignores the chorus of boos following him to the ring, choosing to silently walk up the steps and through the ropes. He walks over to the other side of the ring, motioning for a microphone which is quickly given to him. St. Lunatics slowly lowers to the point of silence as Chris Wilson brings his microphone up to speak.

(Wilson): My adoring fans...

Boos cascade down towards the leader of M7.

(Wilson): I couldn't care less. My time here is soon to be at an end. And with that last match, against my old friend Divefire at Genesis, I shall cement my place as the GREATEST wrestler ever to walk inside this very ring!

(Stevens): Judging from the crowd they have a problem with that statement.

(Riley): I don't.

(Stevens): You don't know what 'labia' means either.

(Riley): C'mon, please. I know Africa like the back of my hand.

(Wilson): That's right. GREATEST EVER. Greater than Rane, greater than Cyclone Comet. Better than GOAT, sure as hell better than the tired old man sitting behind me with a headset on.

More boos rain down upon Wilson.

(Stevens): My fans would like to disagree.

(Riley): Your fans would like stop being imaginary too, but alas they have no choice but to be figments of your imagination.

(Wilson): Better than Thugg, Better than Edwin for certain... and definitly better than Divefire ever was. I destroyed that man. I nearly killed this man, and he has the audacity to challenge me again. His stupidity... heh... shall be his downfall. My last match, I will make certain to be his last match as well. I will make certain...

"You will get yours...

you will get yours...

YOU WILL GET YOURS!"

(Stevens): Longdoggah Pete! The leader of X Force Nine has come to make his presence known tonight!

(Riley): You mean another unidentified attacker is going to stalk and beat him to near death?

(Stevens): Don't make fun of a life and death situation, no matter how many times it occured.

LDP walks through the curtain, making a cut motion at his throat for 'Cold Contagious' to lower to silence as he brings his own microphone up...

(Pete): Wilson, Wilson, Wilson... you know... there's a reason why I'm a champion in this bidness.... -crowd yells with Pete- AND YOU AIN'T IT!

(Wilson): Odd, I thought it was more I the reason that you *weren't* a champion in this... *cough* "Bid-ness". Well, you're here, and you obviously have something to say. Let's just get it over with so I can continue on about my greatness before time cuts me short.

(Pete): Fine, you want short, you got it. I'm just a little angry I haven't gotten a chance to even up the score with you. I want a shot at you before you leave, and I'm going to do anything to get it. I don't care if it's a match, I don't care if it's backstage... I don't care if I have to follow you back to whatever cesspool spawned you to get at you but I will get you... and you WILL get yours!

(Wilson): That's it? You come out here and ruin my wonderful monologue just to threaten me?

(Pete): Challenge.

(Wilson): Challenge? You know, normally I'd scoff and dismiss such a weak show of force, but as I am leaving... and I *guess* you have a reason to be angry... I tell you what. I'm generous.. I'll think about it.

(Pete): Think nothing. You either accept, or I'll get what I want another way.

(Wilson): Really? ... big words from a man who doesn't watch his back...

Pete looks quizzically at Chris Wilson... before turning around and getting a full view of the Tag Team champions right on his back. They advance forward, forcing Pete to backpedal, looking around for some way to attack his way through....

(Stevens): Again, Wilson prepared for any incident, Chilly Chilly Bang Bang were waiting in the wings, ready to ambush anyone coming for him! Such a devious bastard!

(Riley): It's protection!

(Stevens): It's three on one!

Pete hits the bottom of the ramp, but holds steady, ready to fight his way past the Tag Team champs if necessary. TNT walks forward two steps, just about to come face-to-face with the Longdoggah....

"I NEVER KNEW GIRLS EXISTED LIKE YOU!"

...When the Hardcore Queen bolts full speed down the ramp, Kendo Sword swinging wildly looking for flesh to run into. TNT and Frost dive to each side and back towards the ring, allowing Pete to run up and stand side by side with Annie E. She holds her hand out and Pete obliges putting the microphone in her hand.

(Annie): Wilson! You may have gotten Ash... but that was before I came back. Now that I'm here, this is MY watch. And no one... I mean NO ONE will ever attack or beat any X Force Niner on MY watch, by DECREE.... of the Hard... Core... Queen!

Eclectic spikes the microphone down as "She Is Beautiful" begins to play anew over the PA system. Her and Pete begin to walk back towards the curtains, Pete yelling back at Wilson to accept his challenge.

(Stevens): X Force Nine looks to be making a power play, wanting to make an impact on M7 before their vaunted leader bows out!

(Riley): Little fish in a big pond. Pete is over his head, and I don't even know what Annie's thinking threatening the Mastermind out here.

(Stevens): The one-upmanship continues, it looks to be an interesting month leading up to Genesis.... but now let's get ready for our first match....

September 7, 2002

The Air Canada Centre is……

…… Canadian……

But the FANS in the Air Canda Centre are on their feet, ready and waiting for the nex-

What’s that?

……

Well yea, I suppose most of them are Canadian too……

Hmm……

The general consensus among the fans in the Air Canada Centre is that Sacred and Silent

just tore down the house, and THEY WANT MORE! The crowd is getting restless, and a

group of no-gooders in the front row have begun chanting “FUNYON SUCKS!

FUNYON SUCKS!”, despite the fact that he’s just been sitting patiently at ringside.

“I hate doing shows in Canada,” grumbles Riley.

“Now now, Bobby, this is just a gesture of good will. We’re trying to show these savages and barbarians what cultured entertainment is.”

“That doesn’t change the fact that they smell.”

“…… you’re right, it doesn’t. To Funyon!”

“The following No-Disqualification match is scheduled for one-faaaall!”

The houselights slowly dim, dim, dim, and they’re out. An uncomfortably long silence follows, until……

“……the regenerate king……”

The opening notes of "The Grudge" begin to blast over the PA system, eliciting a mixed reaction from the crowd, mostly a negative one. As a video begins to roll on the Entrance screen, it focuses in on a cloak-bearing man standing on a green, treeless hill in the middle of a thunderstorm. Rain drops fall, each of their own accord, landing at their own destination as another falls to replace it. The camera begins to cycle around the figure slowly, accelerating slowly at each pass until a bolt of lightning strikes upon him from the heavens and he bursts into flames as the arena is filled with words...

Wear the grudge like a crown of negativity.

Calculate what we will or will not tolerate.

Desperate to control all and everything.

Unable to forgive your scarlet lettermen.

The lightless arena slowly begins to awaken as the stage begins to glow in a soft, orange light as a cloaked man walks out from underneath the screen. Hesitating a moment as he stops and peers down towards the ring, seconds pass, and the air stands still until he moves again.

“Introducing first, from Los Angeles, Californiaaa…… weighing in at two hundred and twenty-nine pounds…… representing the Magnificent Seven…… MERRRRCURRYYYYYY!”

Slowly descending the ramp, his eyes are focused upon his destination...as he walks across, up the stairs, and finally steps foot inside the ring. Revealing himself, he tosses the cloak down to the timekeeper as the lights fade back up... A few “GO MERCURY!” shouts pop up here and there, the overall response mixed, leaning towards not very nice……

“It would seem,” notes Mark, “that some of the fans are going for the lesser of two evils. While I’m not going to deny Mercury’s evilness, I’d say they made a good choice.”Oh, boo hoo hoo…… you’re still holding a grudge, no pun intended, on Raynor? Hell, you should be proud of him! You were always complaining he was never serious - you should be jumping for joy right now!”

The lights drop out again, and “The Grudge” pounds its way on out…… again…… uh…… yea…… this time, though, Chris Raynor steps out through the curtain, none too pleased with this entrance-music coincidence……

“His opponent, from Baton Rouge, Louisianaaa…… weighing in at two hundred and fifty pounds…… represe-“…… Funyon catches himself. “Ladies and gentlemen…… CHRIIIIIISSS RAYYYYNOOORRRR!”

And no mixed reaction for Raynor, no-siree bob…… he gets full-on boos, and from the look on his face, it seems like he’s gotten over it. He even goes so far as to stop on the ramp and berate an Edwin supporter’s sign…… a few words are caught over the crowd, something something “-you don’t know what he did-“ something something…… then he dismisses the fan with a wave of his hand and heads down to the ring. He rolls under the ropes-

*WOOSH*

*THUD*

“-and Mercury’s kicking this off early,” Marks shouts, “with a diving double-axe handle to Raynor’s head!”

*DING DING DING*

Mercury quickly drags Raynor up by the arm and whips him into the ropes, and as the Rayn-Man comes back he nearly gets decapitated from by a spinning heel kick! He staggers to his feet, trying to get the license plate number of that damn truck, when Mercury shoves him back into the corner and begins firing-

*SMACK*

“WHOOOOO!”

-knife edge-

*SMACK*

“WHOOOOO!”

-chops!

*SMACK*

“WHOOOOO!”

He takes Raynor by the hand and goes for the Irish Whip- it’s reversed! Mercury’s sent hurtling towards the opposite turnbuckle, and Raynor charges right after him-

-Mercury quickly jumps to the side, springboards off the second rope, and comes flying back with a sidekick into Raynor’s face! The ex-Carny goes down hard and immediately rolls out of the ring, with Mercury in hot pursuit!

“The Magnificent Seven’s Mercury is starting off strong!”

A mixture of boos, jeers, cheers, and even a sign that just says “BEEF” all fly at Mercury as he springs over the top rope and lands on the apron outside. Raynor’s on his knees, now up to his feet, but as he staggers around Mercury leaps off-

-Raynor catches him, spins around-

“OOOOOH!”Powerslam on the floor!” shouts Mark, wincing at the sight. Raynor pops to his feet, and Mercury rolls over, slightly favoring his back. Somewhere from the back of the arena, a drunk man begins shouting “YOU SUCK! YOU SUCK!”, and soon it catches on……

“…… but who the hell are they talking about?” asks Riley.

“Beats me. Probably you.”

“Argh! Damn Canadianese!”

Raynor takes poor Mercury by his hair and drags him up to his feet…… takes him by the hand…… STRONG Irish Whip, Mercury’s sent rocketing towards the steel stairs-

-he jumps clear over them, and hit’s the padded guard rail! Raynor, obviously ticked, begins stalking in his direction, but Mercury suddenly springs to life and runs back, vaulting again off the stairs and dropkicking Raynor square in the face! The Rayn-man goes down! Merc kips up immediately and heads over to get Raynor, picking him up and pulling him into a standing head scissors. He pounds him on the back one time, then lifts him up for a powerbomb...

“Looks like Merc may be looking for that newfangled crucifix powerbomb ddt we’ve been hearing about...”

“But look at Raynor, he hates these damn Canadians so much that he won’t allow it to happen! He’s struggling...”

And he breaks free! Sliding down the back, Raynor reaches behind him and catches Mercury’s head on the way down!

“Oh my God! Did you see that counter?!”

“Man, that was awesome! He got out of that crucifix and countered it into a huge neckbreaker, right onto those steel steps!”

Both men are down. Suddenly, without warning, “Amityville” by Eminem hits and the crowd explodes in cheers as the pantless wonder, the one and only NTD appears underneath the Smarktron.

“Oh my God! What the hell is he doing here?”

“I don’t know. But I’m pretty sure it’s to give some rest time to Mercury and Raynor. After all, wrestling is fake.

“SHUT UP!”

Wearing a “pants suck” shirt and indeed living up to his pantless moniker, NTD walks down the entrance ramp soaking in the cheers from the crowd. Microphone in hand, he dives into the ring and gets to his feet, looking around at the still exploding cheers. Raynor and Mercury are still down as he begins to speak.

“You know, there’s a lot of people who think that there’s no reason that I should be out here right now...and they’re right. The only reason I’m making this cameo is to buy some time so Raynor and Merc can get prepared for the rest of this match. There are those that would wonder just why the SWF would bring me back in to do such a thing...but in truth, there isn’t really a reason. I’m a name, and I’m a huge star; so of course, I got the call. My first order of business is to put Grand Slam and Riley over there to shame with my commentating skills.”

“What is this fool talking about?” ponders Riley.

Stevens responds, “I don’t know, but it should be good for a laugh, if nothing else.”

NTD rolls out of the ring and walks over to the commentary table, where he takes a seat next to Mark Stevens and Bobby Riley, and proceeds to comment upon the match.

“Oh my God! Did you see that hideous bump?!?!?!?!?!? I haven’t witnessed anything that brutal since Jennifer Love Hewitt tried to become a singer!”

*rimshot*

“I’m not sure if she’s Canadian or not, but rest assured, we’ll blame it on you anyway.”

“Hey, I guess he does have *something* intelligent to say.”

“That’s debatable, Riley.”

“But anyway guys, I’m actually pretty bored, and I just didn’t have anything better to do, so they said I could come out here and interrupt this perfectly good match for no reason. After all, it works for the WWF.”

“WWE.”

“E?”

“It’s not WWF, it’s WWE.”

“Wait, what? How do you know? We’re not supposed to acknowledge their existence!”

“Er...uh...WWF? What’s that?”

“Exaaaaaactly.”

“Okay, well that was fun. Now go away.” quips Riley.

“I’ll have to agree, you need to leave, NTD.” retorts Stevens.

“Alright then, that’s all for me then. Before I head to the back, Raynor is supposed to toss Mercury back into the ring and get a chair.”

A little bewildered, Raynor gets to his feet, pulls up Merc and tosses him into the ring, and then heads to grab the chair that NTD was sitting in as the pantless one wanders to the back.

“It’s about time!” Riley cheers as Raynor grabs a nearby chair and heaves it into the ring. But he doesn’t stop there - he grabs a long length of chord, running to the Spanish Announce tables monitors, and after a few jerks to untangle it he rolls into the ring, dragging it behind him. Mercury’s gotten up to his knees now, but he’s not aware enough to avoid getting trapped in an extension-chord-choke-from-HELL! Raynor double-wraps the wire around poor Mercury’s throat and puuuuuulls! Mercury’s arms flail about, and he begins wheezing as the referee asks “Give up? Give up?” A middle finger answers that question.

“This one could be over a lot quicker than we anticipated,” says Mark. “Mercury’s desperately reaching for the ropes, but it looks like he’s fading……”

Mercury collapses onto his stomach, and now begins digging his fingers, nails, anything, into the mat…… and he iiiiinches forward…… a little bit…… a little bit…… and he grabs the middle rope!

“That idiot - what good do the ropes do anyway? It’s no DQ!”

Mercury grits his teeth and pulls himself up with the top rope, desperately trying to keep himself alive - he puts one hand to the wires around his neck, the other behind him grabs Raynor’s head - a quick move, and he snap mares Raynor over the top rope! Raynor bounces off the apron and falls to the mats below, and Mercury begins the arduous task of unraveling the wires, but he’s bo-

“-ught himself some valuable time! And THAT’S why he went to the ropes, you half-wit.”You’re worse than these Canadians!”…… that was below the belt.”

Raynor claws at the apron on the outside and manages to get up to his knees as Mercury finishes uncoiling the wire. The ex-Carny climbs up onto the apron, and swings one leg over the top-

-charge from Mercury! He reaches the ropes in front of Raynor, pushes off them with his hands, and kicks his legs up, snaring Raynor around the neck and Hurricanrana-ing him inside the ring! He leans back and grabs ahold of Raynor’s leg, making a pin!

ONE!

TWO!

THR- Raynor kicks out!

Raynor jumps to his feet and tries to attack, but his almost drunken-like state only allows him to stumble in the general direction of a ready and waiting Mercury. Mercury sidesteps his lame-ass charge and grabs his arm, then whips him into the ropes. As Raynor comes back, Mercury hooks his arm around Raynor’s head and pushes off with his left foot, doing a 180 with Raynor in tow before dropping him down on his head in a-

“BEAUTIFUL Tornado DDT!”

Raynor flops onto his tummy, and Mercury, whom a few in the crowd have deemed the “face by default”, climbs to his feet and raises an arm triumphantly, more for himself than for any of those primates in the stands…… He then turns and puts his back in the corner, and waits for Raynor, who’s in the process of trying to maybe consider possibly attempting to thinking about getting up to one knee- oh, there he goes.

“I’m unhappy, Mark.”Why?”Aside from an extension chord, this match has been incredibly tame-“

Raynor makes it to one foot, and that’s good enough for Merc. Mercury sprints from the corner-

-Raynor goes WHOOOOSH as he spins around, STEEL CHAIR IN HAND!

*CRACK*

“Never mind, Mark. I’m happy.”Good lord!” shouts Mark, “That was a sickening chairshot!”

Raynor drops down to his knees, exhausted, but smirking at the sight of Mercury lying motionless next to him. Raynor drops the chair and clambers up to his feet, falling back into the ropes then taking a few jogging steps out before jumping and driving the very point of his elbow right into Mercury’s throat!

“Owwww ow ow ow ow! That’s like watching a guy get kicked in the balls…… only its elbowed in the throat.”Riley…… just…… go away.”

Raynor takes Mercury by his hand and jerks him up to his feet, then Irish Whips him into the corner. Mercury’s back snaps against the post, and Raynor quickly steps up and pulls him out, scoops him up, and drapes his legs over the top rope!

“Tree of wooooe-whoa-whoa-babaaaay!” croons Riley, tone-deaf as ever.

“Must…… control…… fist of death……”

Raynor pulls his fist back and-

*BAM*

-delivers a very very very suspiciously south of the border…… well, Merc’s upside down, so north of the border right hand, followed by two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine more, then he pulls Mercury’s legs off and lets him sink to the mat. Raynor then turns to the crowd, looking for a bit of approval but getting…… well, pretty much nothing in response. Scowling, he kicks Mercury’s head once for good measure, then picks him up off the mat, locks him into a standing head scissors…… locks his arms around Merc’s waist aaaaand hoists him up!

“He’s got Mercury up on his shoulders!” shouts Mark, as the crowd begins to figure out what’s coming up.

Raynor stumbles across the ring, barely able to hold the dazed Mercury up. He stops in the center of the ring, then sticks his right foot out and uses it to pull in the chair!

“Uh oh……”

He takes a step back and turns towards the chair, then braces himself, grabs a tight hold, and SLAAAAAAAMS him down onto the steel chair, holding on for a cover!

ONE!

TWO!

THR- Mercury gets his shoulder up!

“Good lord,” Mark cries, “not just any man could kick out of a power bomb onto a chair!”I could.”Shut up Riley.”

Raynor, arms still locked around Mercury, grits his teeth and puuuuuulls Mercury back up, slowly slowly up back onto his shoulders……

“Oh no, he’s not gonna-“

SLAAAAAAAAAAAAAM!

“A second power bomb onto the chair - into the cover again!”

ONE!

TWO!

T

H

R

E

E- NO! MERCURY ROLLS HIS SHOULDER UP AGAIN! Even the most fanatic M7-haters have to applaud that, as Raynor releases Mercury’s legs and falls down to the mat, absolutely exhausted!

“What strength! What resiliency on the part of Mercury!”

Raynor pounds the mat angrily, and slowly rises to his feet. For lack of a proper hero, the fans are only eager now to see the two men hurt each other more…… from the look on Raynor’s face, that’s his exact intention. He staggers over to the steel chair and picks it up…… unfolds it…… sets it back down, a little off center now……

“Oh no…… there’s no way Mercury could kick out of this!”

Raynor then drags Mercury back to his feet, right into a standing head scissors……

…… locks his arms around Mercury’s waist……

*COLLECTIVE GASP*

“OOOOOOH!”

Mercury ducks his head down, then drives it right back up, crushing Raynor’s little Rayn-men! The ex-Carny releases his opponent and staggers away, giving off an odd mix of whimpering and swearing. Mercury manages to stay on his knees, and for lack of a proper hero, the crowd begins to get on his side again! He makes it to his feet, but falls back into the ropes, not quite stable enough for his own two feet……

“…… it doesn’t matter though, because it doesn’t look like Raynor’s going anywhere!”He’ll be going to some doctors if he’s smart. Oweeee.”

Raynor lies in the opposite corner, in an obscene amount of pain…… Mercury heads for him, and Raynor makes a desperation blind charge!

Bad move.

Mercury sidesteps and grabs his arm, twists it into a hammerlock, then floats over to Raynor’s front, locks the left arm, PIPEDREAM! The DDT rocks Raynor’s socks, and Mercury covers, hooking the leg!

ONE!

TWO!

T

H

RE

E

E- Raynor kicks out! Just BARELY kicks out!

Mercury rolls to his feet, getting a second wind from something, somewhere, and he drags Raynor up by his arm and shoves him back into the corner. He runs right after him, and just a second after Raynor hits the corner, Mercury squishies him with a splash! He backs off, letting Raynor take a few steps out of the corner……

…… and fall flat on his face! Mercury smirks at the sight, then peers at the turnbuckle……

Should I?

……

…… yeaaaa.

“And it looks like Mercury’s going up top!”Gee, Mark, what gave you that idea?”The fact that he’s climbing the ropes and-“YOU WEREN’T SUPPOSED TO ANSWER THAT!”

The second wind is slowing down, and Mercury’s taking his time climbing up to the top rope. So much time, in fact, that as he’s checking his footing and taking the last step up, Raynor is on his knees, heading for the ropes. A quick lunge sees him grab the top rope, and-

“OOOOOOOOOH!” part two, as Mercury crotches the top turnbuckle!

“Hm…… well, uh……” Bobby searches for the right words…… “…… that sucks.”

Raynor hobbles over towards the corner, pulling the ropes to keep himself upright, until he reaches the now “feelin’ it” Mercury. The ex-Carny fires a half hearted punch, just out of spite, before stopping to think for a minute……

*DING* Idea! Idea! Raynor climbs onto the first rope, under poor Mercury, and hooks his arm

up……

“Superplex attempt- wait a minute!”

Mercury takes his free hand and blasts Raynor hard! And again! And again! Raynor makes a desperation pull, trying to get the Superplex off, but he only ends up dropping Mercury down on his feet……

…… but Mercury holds on, then lifts Raynor up! He turns around and plops the Rayn-Man right back down on the top turnbuckle!

“What a move!”

The fans begrudgingly pop for it as Mercury now climbs up to the second rope…… hooks Raynor’s tights……

PUUUUULLS……

He gets Raynor upright, and begins to fall backwards-

-suddenly Raynor kicks, flails, rolls, and he ends up falling on top of Mercury! His two hundred and fifty pound frame adds more force pushing Mercury down down down-

*CRACK*

“BACK INTO THE STEEL CHAIR! It was still standing, and Raynor just turned the superplex into a cross body ONTO THE CHAIR!”

Mercury is left in a sickeningly stiff position, head jutted out forward by the chair with his body sort of limp, sideways, as Raynor rolls away, cradling his chest. As an excuse not to cheer anyone, a “HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT!” chant quickly sweeps across the crowd……

…… Raynor slowly gets to his knees, and begins crawling for Mercury……

“There is no way,” says Mark, a little unconvincingly, “NO way he can kick out of that!”

Raynor gets a hand on the chair and shoves it aside, letting Mercury fall to the mat before

covering.

ONE!

TWO!

T

H

R

E

EEEEEEEEEE!!!! YES! Raynor gets the pin! Raynor-

“-gets the pin in one HELL of a fight!”

*DING DING DING*

“The Grudge” pounds out over the speakers…… surprise surprise…… and Funyon makes sure to forget that it’s also Mercury’s music when he hears it and announces:

“The winner of this bout…… Chriiiiiisss Rayyyynoorrr!”A beautiful counter, though I’d bet a good bit of it was luck-“Give credit where credit is due, Mark! I wasn’t exactly rooting for Raynor, but that was an awesome move!”I agree it was awesome! Just maybe it wasn’t intentional. In any case, Raynor picks up the duke. Up next, folks, we’ve got our first of two title matches, as Tom Flesher defends his Light-Heavyweight Championship against Hardcore-Queen, Annie Eclectic! Stay tuned!”

*starwipe to commercial*

September 7, 2002

Stubby!” shouts Thoth, busting through the doors of the comissioners office, carrying an aura of utter hate. “What the hell was that?”

“The hell was what?” replies Stubby, trying very very hard not to lose his cool and lose the artificial high he’s on right now. From weed.

“Your damned lackeys attacking me! For what? When did you give the order to hit me with a chair?”

Stubby chuckles to himself. “Well, given that the Clan is longer around, I just wanted you to know who the strongest group is now... which would be Creative Control, of course.”

“Baka... your group of mindless drones is truly powerless...” and Thoth’s eyes light up suddenly. “And I’ll prove it. This Monday, on Smarkdown... me, versus Jay Dawg, Lerrin Breggan, and Bo. Gauntlet match.” Thoth folds his arms across his chest, satisfied. Stubby’s face doesn’t move, then his eyebrow twitches, and he speaks:

“Did you fucking wake up stupid? Jesus, that’s rich... tell you what, you got it.” Stubby whips out a piece of paper, makes a few scribbles, and turns the paper around. “Sign here,” he says quickly, as a formality. “Jesus, Thoth, I never met a guy who wanted to get his ass kicked as bad as you-”

And the doors open again. Silent steps through, eyeing Thoth. “You have a lot of nerve, McWeed,” he says, directed towards Stubby, though he is looking at Thoth. “And were it not for the Balancer’s presence, I would tear your head clean off. Don’t you have enough confidence in your own boy, Sacred? But I don’t want to turn my back on you, Kaesame. So for today McWeed, you live.” Silent looks down at the desk, seeing the paper that has Thoth’s signature and Stubby’s chicken scratches. Before Stubby can react, Silent has the paper in hand. He eyes it quickly, and then blindly grabs a pen, signing his name next to Thoth’s.

“Your gauntlet match... Stubby... is now a handicap tag team match.” Silent drops the pen and paper. “Let this be a lesson to you, McWeed. Do NOT... interfere in my business. You have no idea the power these fists hold. And Balancer,” he turns to Thoth. “Don’t think that I want to be friends. This is a partnership of convenience. But by the same token... don’t think I’m taking the easy way out.”

With that, Silent leaves. Thoth glares at the Slaughterer as he does so, and then turns his attention to Stubby.

“I didn’t plan on this turn of events, Stubby, but I’ll tell you this. Come this Smarkdown... I’m going to rip the throat out of Creative Control.”

Thoth leaves as Stubby is left sighing and shaking his head, wondering why so many people want to get their asses kicked these days.

September 7, 2002

“Welcome back to Storm!” Yells Mark Steven’s over the mic, greeting the audiences at home back to the Smarks Wrestling Federation’s second show of the week. “We’ve seen some great matches tonight and coming up next is…”

The low and gentle beginning tones of Linkin Park’s ‘Points of Authority’ start to beat out of the arena speaker system, causing some of the crowds to let out a cheer in response as they recognise an old acquaintance will be joining them soon.

“Is Divefire.” Bobby Riley finishes off his announcing partner’s sentence, smirking to himself and leaning back in his chair as the music picks up and the opening lyrics echo out.

"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 to accompany the drumbeat that has just cut in, fire pyro's erupt from the stage area and plum up past the Smark-Tron™, whiting out the cameras watching the entranceway.

“What’s Divefire doing out here now? His tag match isn’t until later in the evening!” Mark Stevens questions with a yell over the music and the combination of boos and cheers for the former IGNWF Commissioner.

“You know Mark, he’s probably going to cut a promo on some one.” Replies Riley, sounding rather smug for getting one up over the Heavy Hitter. “At a rough guess.”

“I can guess that much myself” Mark sighs, watching as Divefire flips over the top ring rope and calls for a mic from ringside. “It’s just not exactly his style to cut on anyone.”

“Then it’s probably pretty important. Now shut up so I can hear my good friend talk.” Riley chastises, waving Stevens off with a hand as in the ring Divefire waves a hand to signal for the music to be cut off, which it dully is.

Looking out to the crowds through his shades he smirks slightly as a light asshole chant starts up, gathering a little pace as the sheep in the audience follows the lead of the others. “Yeah.” Divefire replies in a cool tone to the crowds chant. “Like I give a shit what any of you think.” To this the crowds boo more intensely, which only cause the man in the ring to shrug his shoulders. “Whatever, I’m not here to talk to any of you. No, the man I want to talk to is still in the back. The man I want to talk to is skulking around like a mouse when he should be standing tall. The man I want to talk to I used to consider a friend…” Divefire pauses as the crowds chant started to cool down a bit, giving him more of a chance to speak. “Tyler McClellend, The Prophet. I want to talk to you.”

“Oh now that makes a lot more sense. Even the most casual fan at home knows about the relationship between Tyler, Divefire, Dan Vigilante and you Mr Riley.” Mark does his job to exposition the story to those at home less familiar with the ins and outs of the SWF while the local crowds quiet down in a little respect to the man speaking in the ring.

“When we formed Dead on Arrival, they were good times. To short by half…” Riley reminisces more to himself as Divefire looks across to ring to the commentary position for just a moment.

“What I want to talk to you about Tyler is your choices of late. Some of them I can understand, some I find perplexing, and some… Some I have to question your sanity on.” Divefire paces around the ring as he spoke, looking up to the stage area between each sentence. “What the hell were you thinking, joining up with Chris Wilson? Come and tell me Tyler, what was going through your head when you got it together with the man you battled at the start of your career for the US title. The man who injured you more times then I want to recount! The man who finally put you out of action trying to get to me!” Divefire’s voice takes on a sharp, bitter tone as his speech progresses, the memories sparking of emotions for the man he is hunting down now, in the SWF.

“Yeah, damn it! I want to know that to!” Riley adds, his own tone sounding more serious and with a hint of emotional hurt in his voice.

“You want to know?!” Mark asks his fellow commentator in an incredulous tone. “I thought you liked all the evil scheming bastardness of Wilson and his cohorts?!”

“Back off Stevens!” Riley snaps back, tone harsh and on the edge. “These are my friends we’re talking about!”

As Riley’s tirade fades out, so do the arena lights… a harsh whisper reads the blood-red words suddenly lighting up the Smark-Tron™

...Dark prophecies fill my world...

...Magnificent illusions of grandeur act as my sword...

...Feel...

...My...

...Pain...

Out of nowhere, a massive explosion hits the stage area and “P5HNG ME A*WY”, by Linkin Park, kicks up over the loudspeaker!

#When I look into your eyes…#

#There’s nothing there to see…#

#Nothing but my own mistakes…#

#Staring back at me…#

As whitish smoke bellows from the area where the explosion lit up the dark arena, a dark silhouette is projected through the smoke…

#Everything falls apart…#

#Even the people who never frown eventually break down…#

#Everything has to end…#

#You’ll soon find we’re out of time to watch it all unwind…#

As the smoke dissipates, Tyler McClelland appears at the top of the ramp… the crowd boos as he stands there, his head down and his shoulders slumped a bit… his eyes closed…

#The sacrifice is never knowing why I stay with you…

#Just push away, no matter what you see…

#You’re still so blind to me…

With those words, another explosion erupts on the stage and Tyler McClelland, through the sparks which fly at his sides, begins his descent to the ring… slowly, he walks through the dissipating smoke and reaches the ring, where he rolls under the bottom rope and stands, almost placidly, waiting for his opponent…

The Prophet emerged from the backstage, onto the main stage area with a mic in one hand and signaling for the music to be cut with the other.

“Christ…” Muttered Stevens over the music, “It’s an angst fest in the making…”

McClelland finally receives the result he wants as the music cuts out… finally, smirking and shaking his head, he raises the microphone to his lips…

“It doesn’t concern you, Mathew. I have my own agenda as a member of the Magnificent Seven and…”

“So, Tyler, in other words… what you’re doing is attempting to lessen the pain of the little ‘game’ we had planned… you’re pissed off after I abandoned you and your little mission to take over the wrestling world… your attempt to ‘Enlighten’ them.” Divefire breathes…

The crowd has a hushed silence as Tyler stands on the top of the ramp and shuts his eyes…

“Was Divefire…” Riley begins.

“That’s right, ladies and gentlemen… your ‘Savior’? That was… me.”

The crowd gasps in unison as Tyler’s head begins to shake…

“…My God… Divefire was the Savior? Holy shit, what kind of implications will this have…?” Stevens wonders.

“No, Divefire, you were no savior… my illusion was viewing you in any such role. My grandeur was envisioning you as any kind of saving grace… no, Divefire, you are… and always have been… a quitter. You quit on the federation before and at the first sign of opposition, I’m more than confident you’ll quit again.” Tyler speaks.

The crowd isn’t sure whether to boo or cheer as McClelland’s words seem to ring true…

“Tyler, Tyler… you’re quite the humorous child, aren’t you?”

”Don’t call me a child… we’ve always been on the same level, Mathew. You see, I’ve always accepted a lesser role than you… I’ve always been under the assumption that you have this strange superiority about yourself, but it’s frankly not fucking true… you’re no better than me, Mat… you’re simply my peer.” Tyler stings.

Divefire shakes his head with a smirk on his face.

“Tyler, please… don’t interrupt me again.”

The crowd lets out a collective “Oooooh…” to Divefire’s comment.

“Now, let’s get something straight… this is like the pot calling the kettle black. You see, Tyler, you’re the least reliable man on the fucking planet. Don’t get me wrong, you probably have more potential than anyone in this federation, but… you’re just a little wuss. You see, every bump and bruise you get seems like a fucking broken arm. You make every little sprain look as if you should have a limb amputated. Tyler, you’re frankly… a weakling, an unreliable guy… a fake.” Divefire smiles.

Tyler shrugs and stares straight back at him.

“And yet, you can say absolutely nothing about the fact. Mathew, you bailed on me… you couldn’t come through when I needed you the most. You masquerade yourself as a hero… a champion… a ‘real person’. However, I’ve found there is no such thing as a ‘real person’… there’s no FIRE to you, Mat. There’s nothing in you besides greed and ignorance.” Tyler fires back.

“This is coming from a guy who more or less ignored his wife to the moment of her death… you took a woman who was beautiful, smart, and sweet… and you turned her into nothing more than a useless little tramp, Tyler. She’d have been much better off with Riley, and I hate to say that… but it’s true.”

The crowd drops into silence…

“Holy shit… did he just say what I think he did?” Stevens gasps.

Bobby Riley sits in silence… Tyler McClelland closes his eyes, near tears…

“Fuck you, Mat… we’ll see who the real man is…”

With that, Tyler turns around and walks out as “P5HNG ME A*WY” kicks up in the background… Divefire smirks and shakes his head as the crowd boos…

“This… just might be the beginning of a war, right here…” Bobby Riley elaborates at the bottom of his breath…

“I don’t like the looks of this… it’s far too personal… someone could get hurt right here, and I don’t like either of their chances. This could be ugly… and with that, we’ll be right back.” Stevens replies.

And, out of the depths of darkness, the screen starwipes to commercial.

September 7, 2002

SWF Storm returns from a commercial for Curry Man's new venture, Curry Man's Taste Of India ("I'm hot! I'm Spicy! I taste great! But enough about me, buy my damn curry!") and pans the arena before settling on the SmarkTron. The Light Heavyweight graphic appears below photos of "The Superior One" Tom Flesher on the left and "The Hardcore Queen" Annie Eclectic on the right. The words "LIGHT HEAVYWEIGHT TITLE: TOM VS ANNIE" scroll across the bottom as the camera zooms in on the announce table.

"Welcome back," says Grand Slam Mark Stevens, "and thanks again for joining us on SWF Storm. We've got an exciting match coming up, featuring the Light Heavyweight Champion's first defense in the 40-some days since he defeated El Luchadore Magnifico for the gold!"

"It should be noted, Mark, that the Tom Flesher has been so busy defending his OTHER title, the US strap, that it's been impossible to book him against light heavyweights."

"Or maybe he's just been protecting his waistpiece."

"Er... yes... or maybe he's just been protecting his waistpiece."

"In any event, tonight he faces a formidable challenge in the sadistic, masochistic Annie Eclectic! Let's go to Funyon!"

Funyon clears his throat. "Ladies and gentlemen, the next contest is scheduled for one fall, and it is for the SWF Light Heavyweight Championship!" The crowd pops as the lights dim. A spotlight illuminates the velvet curtain as a wall of white pyro accents the stage. The opening riff of Andrew WK's "She Is Beautiful" plays over and over as the fans cheer, anticipating the challenger's entrance. Suddenly...

"I never knew girls existed like you!"

Annie comes running out from behind the curtain to a loud crowd pop and sprints at top speed to the ring.

"Making her way to the ring," says Funyon, "from Indianapolis, Indiana, weighing in at 175 pounds... she is the challenger, she is the hardcore queen, she is angelic, eccentric, electric, Annie Eclectic!"

Annie slides into the ring, then stands in the center. She cockily swings her hand around and points her thumb at her chest, sparking another pop.

"And listen to the reaction from this crowd," says Stevens. "They love her!"

Annie turns around and unstraps her Kendo stick. She sets it in her corner and stretches out as her music fades. The lights stay down, and twin columns of blue pyro spray out next to the entrance curtain as the intro to "I Am The Man" begins to play. Suddenly, with a blue explosion, the vocals begin to blare. When the smoke clears, Tom Flesher stands in front of the curtain, arms crossed confidently across his chest, flanked by his two blue-clad belt girls. As the crowd boos him, he smiles and waves.

"Look at the crowd," says Riley. "They love him!"

Stevens raises his eyebrow. "I just said that!"

"Pfffffffffft. Yeah, about ANNIE."

Flesher gets to the ring and climbs the stairs, then holds the ropes open for each belt girl. He poses in the center, one girl on each side, and looks expectantly at Funyon. Funyon sighs and pulls the index card out of his pocket.

"Ladies and gentlemen of Toronto, tonight, you have the honor and privilege of seeing one of the most talented, gifted and exciting performers ever to grace the SWF ring with his presence. He's agreed to make this appearance despite the records compiled by the Maple Leafs and the Raptors, and definitely despite the fact that you have poutine on the menu at McDonald's. No, in spite of all that, he's appearing here because he loves you as much as you love him."

Flesher shouts, "MAYBE MORE!"

"So ladies and gentlemen, in thanks to these 213 pounds of love and compassion, bow down to the glory that is your Light Heavyweight and United States Champion, bow down to the Superior One, Tom Flesher!"

The crowd bursts into a chorus of boos as Flesher bows deeply, then kisses each belt girl on the cheek before handing the Light Heavyweight belt to referee Daniel "In-Good-Shape" Fernley. Fernley holds the belt up, then sets it on the timekeeper's table before calling for the bell.

DING DING DING!

"And this match is underway," says Stevens. "It's going to be an exciting one!"

"Mark, you HATE squashes."

"What on earth are you talking about?"

"Well, it's FLESHER... versus a WOMAN. Do I need to draw you a chart?"

Flesher and Annie circle each other for a few moments. Flesher makes the first overture by stepping in and looking for a lockup, but before he can secure his grip, Annie backs away and kicks him stiffly in the chest! Before Flesher knows what hit him, Annie nails him with two more kicks and finishes the sequence by jumping into the air and nailing Flesher with a Dropkiss! Flesher staggers backwards, and Annie follows up with a giant roundhouse kick to the head. Immediately, the Superior One falls to his knees, and Annie knocks him flat with a spinning kick to the back of the head. Flesher falls forward, and Annie jumps onto his back and starts to tie up his arms!

"Holy cow!" says Stevens. "Is she going for the Triple C already?!"

"Desperation!" shouts Riley, trying to convince himself, too.

Annie hooks Flesher's left arm, but acting almost on instinct, Flesher controls the arm and slides out to the side, reversing it into a hammerlock and coming out on top behind the Hardcore Queen. As Stevens mentions, "Annie may have made a tactical error going to the mat," Flesher segues the hammerlock into an armbar. He scoots off to the side and attempts to scissor Annie's head and arm together into a triangle choke. Before he can secure the lock, though, Annie reaches over with her free arm and nails Flesher with two quick punches to the face. Surprised, Flesher withdraws and comes back to his feet, this time falling into a more conservative wrestling stance as Annie regains her footing.

"Nice matwrestling to start off, but Annie's making a mistake by trying to take Flesher down."

"Obviously. He's superior."

"Oh, would you STOP? She can beat him by striking and moving!"

"Nah, he's superior."

"GOD, you're monotonous."

"Unlike Flesher, who's superior."

Reluctant to make the first move, Flesher circles around and focuses his gaze on Annie's left leg. Annie tries to keep her distance. Through a series of shuffle-steps and fakes, the two workers jockey for position - an off-step here, shifting the weight in the wrong direction there, and soon both wrestlers are in poor stances. Flesher realizes his situation and immediately drops down, snagging Annie's ankle and pulling it in. She attempts to kick him off, but he pulls the leg through and sends Annie crashing to the mat. There, he stands up and pulls Annie's leg out, stepping over and going for a half-crab submission. Annie immediately grabs the ropes, and Fernley administers the standard five-count.

ONE! Flesher holds up one finger on his free hand.

TWO! Flesher continues counting along, nodding.

THREE! Tom holds up his hand, motioning urgently for Fernley to break the count. He does, and Flesher nods gratefully. Fernley asks, "Whatcha need?" "Oh," says Flesher, "I just thought it'd be cool if you broke the count." Upon hearing that, the official immediately slaps Flesher on the arm and forces him to release the crab hold. Flesher spins around and gets in position as Annie shakes her left leg out and carefully comes back to her feet. As soon as he sees her reach a vertical base, Flesher throws a quick dropkick that catches Annie's knee. She nearly falls over but braces herself on the ropes. Flesher comes up off the mat and starts to grab Annie's leg, only to be met with a kick straight to the forehead from the still-upright Angelic One! Stunned, he barely sees Annie spin around and nail him with a back heel kick. She drops down on him for a count of

ONE!

but no more as Flesher kicks out. "Excellent chain striking by Annie Eclectic," says Stevens, "and ladies, she's single!" Tom rolls away, but Annie grabs his head and pulls him into a European uppercut. Flesher takes the blow, then responds with a stiff shotei to the chest. Annie staggers backwards a bit, but answers back with another European uppercut. Once again, Flesher responds with a palm thrust, hitting harder this time. Annie stumbles and takes an extra second before she responds. Tom takes advantage by blocking the next uppercut and striking his opponent in the forehead. With Annie knocked silly, Tom grabs her wrists and whips her to the ropes. Annie rebounds, and when she makes it to the center of the ring, Flesher catches her and throws her overhead, slamming her to the mat with a Railgun Suplex! He rolls over and covers her for

ONE!

but she kicks out! Flesher holds on to her left leg and starts to rotate into a figure-four leglock, but as he spins through, Annie kicks him away. She bounds back to her feet as Tom turns around, and steps into a lockup. Annie flips Tom with a quick snap suplex, then floats over. She covers, but Tom breaks the pin by rolling to his stomach. Annie stays on top, pausing for a moment to consider her options...

then unloads with a hard right hand to the back of Tom's head! The Light Heavyweight Champion hugs the mat, stunned, as Annie grabs his head and slams it into the mat, then yanks it back and does it again! "Ouch! Annie's really going for the gusto!"

Riley looks at Stevens quizzically and asks, "What the hell does that mean?"

"Well, it means she's... Annie's... dammit, Bobby, look at her!" Annie, as if on cue, slams Flesher's face into the mat again. "See?"

Riley grumbles and slouches. "I guess."

Annie spins out in front of Flesher and grabs him by the hair, pulling him up to his feet in a front facelock and flowing into a vertical suplex. She holds Flesher upside down for a moment, stalling...

stalling...

STALLING.......

and finally falls backwards, slamming the champion into the mat! Annie contemplates going for a cover, but opts instead to yank Flesher back to his feet and continue the assault by whipping him to the ropes. As Flesher rebounds, Annie kicks him in the stomach and follows through with an Evenflow DDT! Flesher rolls to his back, and Annie covers him for

ONE!

TWO!

NO!!!! Flesher kicks out, and Annie looks surprised that that didn't do the job. Flesher sits down in the second rope, hooking his elbow around it, and makes a quick Time-Out signal. The official waves it off, motioning for Annie to attack. Annie lunges forward for a knee strike, but Tom slides out of the way. When Annie lands in front of him, he playfully slaps her on the BUTT before kicking her knee out from under her. Flesher then turns around and waves to the crowd, which responds by showering him with boos.

"Look at the audacity!"

"I know! For her to offer it up when she KNOWS she's not gonna sleep with him... what a tease!"

"Bobby, sometimes I wonder about you."

Flesher quickly kicks Annie in the ribs before he grabs her by the arm to yank her back to her feet. Adeptly, Flesher pulls Annie across his body and whips her to the ropes. When Annie rebounds, he steps forward and nails her in the face with the sole of his Doc Marten combat boot. Annie crumbles, and Riley shouts, "Those pants are DANGEROUS!"

Stevens raises his eyebrow. "Bobby, don't you mean his BOOTS are dangerous?"

"Oh, yes, of COURSE. How COULD I be so silly?"

Immediately, Flesher descends on his opponent and grabs her left leg. Torquing the knee, he tries to force Annie to flip to her stomach, but the Hardcore Queen resists. Bailing out, Tom drops a quick elbow into the side of Annie's knee and holds the leg in that disjointed position for a few seconds. When he releases the leg, he once again tries to twist it to the point where Annie will flip to her stomach and allow an STF, but Annie continues resisting. Flesher drops another elbow into her knee, this time twisting all the way around and wrapping the wrenched leg around his waist for added pressure. Annie winces in pain but slowly moves her free leg up to Flesher's waist. Flesher continues wrenching the knee, and Annie lets out an exaggerated cry of pain. Grinning, the Superior One relaxes the hold a bit...

leaving himself wide open for Annie to apply a bodyscissors crossface chicken wing! The crowd pops as Annie capitalizes on Tom's cockiness, cinching the hold as tightly as she can. Instinctively, Flesher starts throwing back elbows at Annie's head but can't get her to break the hold. Instead, he starts writhing and rolling, trying to jerk himself toward the ropes in hopes of breaking the submission. He manages to get himself to the ropes, but makes a fatal error before he can lock his hand around the bottom strand.

"He rolled to his stomach! What a mistake!" Stevens is stunned and sickened Tom's lack of attention, and clearly impressed with Annie's ability to foresee the mistake. "Flesher's faced Annie no less than four times in the past few months! Why would he do something so stupid?"

As soon as Flesher hits his stomach, Annie yanks backwards, locking up her trademark Triple C! Annie wrenches Flesher's back upwards and cruelly jerks him back, pulling him just inches from the ropes! Flesher fights to force his chest back to the mat, trying desperately to relieve the pressure of the hold. Failing to overcome her leverage with brute strength, Tom's look says "I'm 22 years old. I don't need this."

"Bobby, this could be it! Annie Eclectic is just moments away from becoming the new SWF Light Heavyweight Champion!"

"Shut up, SHUT UP! If I can't hear you, it's not happening!"

Desperately, Flesher starts kicking the canvas and trying to drag himself even an inch or two closer to the ropes. He manages to set Annie very slightly off balance this way, and with a Hail Mary of a back elbowsmash to the ribs, he gains just a tiny bit of extra space to work with. Diving as best one can with a 175-pound assassin on his back, Flesher grabs the bottom rope, much to the ire of the capacity crowd. Daniel Fernley administers the standard five-count, and Annie reluctantly releases the hold.

"Annie had Flesher on the ropes! She's definitely got the Light Heavyweight Champion on edge."

"Bah, she's just getting lucky."

"If Annie keeps up this level of competition, she's going to walk away with the title tonight, and that, my friends, is a damn promise."

Flesher slowly pulls himself to his feet and stalks to the center of the ring, clearly favouring the left arm Annie just tried to snap off. Annie tries to strike with a European uppercut, but Flesher steps into it to limit the impact and get too close for the strikes to be effective. He pulls Annie into a tie-up, trying to muscle her into a front facelock. She resists and breaks the lock, then throws a left-handed jab. Flesher blocks the punch, but isn't in position to answer with a strike of his own. Annie tries the jab again, with the same result. This time, though, Tom swings his foot back and boots Annie hard in the left knee! Annie drops her guard, distracted by the kick, and that leaves Flesher open to smack her across the face. Bobby Riley nearly pees himself, yelling "Bitchslap! He bitchslapped that... er... fine young lady!" Stevens nods, semi-satisfied at the half-assed attempt to control the profanity.

Annie, angered by the slap, turns bright red and answers with a kick to the chest. Flesher staggers back, regretting his emphasis on embarrassment over damage. He takes another kick to the chest, this one forcing him into the ropes. Annie follows that kick with a spinning heel kick to the forehead, and Flesher goes tumbling over the top rope! He lands mostly on his feet on the outside, and as soon as he pops back up, Annie grabs the middle rope and swings under to nail him with a baseball slide Dropkiss! Flesher careens into the guardrail as Annie baits him to come back into the ring.

"DISQUALIFY HER," shouts Riley.

"What on EARTH are you talking about?"

"That was plain gimmick infringement! That was Tom's move!"

Stevens rolls his eyes. "Oh, whatever. You've been ripping off NTD ever since you got this job."

"Geez, you're all high and mighty just cuz you never got caught driving without pants."

Annie moves to follow Flesher out, but Fernley waves her back into the ring as he administers a ten-count. Flesher leans on the guardrail catching his breath, and then turns around to see a seven-year-old girl wearing a MacPhisto Mania t-shirt sipping a large 7-Up. He crouches down and asks sweetly, "May I have a sip of your soda, honey?" The girl looks at him, then at her soda, and says "No. You hate the Midnight Carnival and you're ugly." Flesher's face falls. He shrugs, grabs the girl's soda and takes a big sip, then hands it back. "Thanks, ya little cutie. Have your mom send me 20 bucks and I'll give you an autograph, okay?" Unable to resist her hatred for the Superior One, the girl winds up and bitchslaps him.

"This spot brought to you by the Midnight Carnival," quips Stevens through a chuckle.

"Mark, what the hell was the point of that sequence?"

"I'm not sure, but.... um... what a bastard!"

Flesher sulks back into the ring after the break. Annie is waiting for him with a Dropkiss, but Flesher manages to dodge it. As soon as Annie hits the mat, Tom throws a dropkick to the knee before she can get up. He capitalizes on Annie's mat position by diving on top of her and locking up a waistlock. Annie kicks and wriggles, pushing herself up to her feet, and tries to grab for the ropes. Flesher lets her get to the ropes, then keeps his waistlock and rolls backwards. He pulls Annie through in a Rolling Prawn and comes up on top for

ONE!

TWO!

THREE!!!

WAIT! Fernley waves the fall off, pointing at Flesher's handful of Annie's slacks. Flesher sighs and shoves Annie away, then turns around and waits for her to come to her feet. When she does, he nails her with a stiff palm strike to the forehead. Quickly, he grabs her and whips her into the corner, then charges in and slams his boot into her face with a running Yakuza kick! Stunned but too resilient to go down to a single kick, Annie stays standing in the corner. Flesher follows the kick up with another palm strike. Annie wavers, too staggered to respond, but refuses to fall. Finally, Flesher takes a step back, pivots, and spins, nailing Annie in the temple with a Roaring Shotei! Annie finally falls into a seated position in the corner, and Flesher grins from ear to ear. Cockily, he grabs the top rope and plants his boot on Annie's face. He swings forward and scrapes the boot across Annie's countenance. She grabs her face, and Flesher withdraws, only to swing forward and scrape her face a second time. Finally, he swings out and performs a third boot scrape, with Annie looking angry but too stunned to prevent it. Flesher plants his boot firmly on the Angel's windpipe. Immediately, Fernley administers a quick five-count and then shouts, "OFF HER NECK!" Flesher looks at the referee, feigning confusion, and says, "Who shot who in the what now?" "GET OFF HER NECK!" "You're cooking what for dinner?" "STOP CHOKING HER!" "Oh, STEAK, okay." Finally, Fernley physically shoves Flesher off of the purple, gasping Annie and angrily threatens him with disqualification. Riley mutters, "Geez, SOMEBODY'S sensitive."

Flesher turns around and kicks Annie stiffly in the head to keep her from resisting. He grabs her by the shoulders and lifts her to the top rope, seating her on the turnbuckle and hitting a jumping palm strike to the jaw. Facing the center, he grabs Annie's arms and jerks her forward, slamming her to the mat with an Iconoclasm. Quickly, he climbs to the top rope, then signals to Bobby Riley for a microphone. Dutifully, the Ambiguous One supplies Flesher with a house mic.

Tom stands on the top rope and stares down at Annie's limp form, then puts the mic to his lips and starts to sing. "Annie, are you okay? Are you okay? Are you okay, Annie? Annie, are you okay? Are you okay? Are you okay, Annie? Annie, are you okay? Are you okay? Are you okay, Annie? You've been hit by, you've been struck by.... the smooooooooooooth criminal!" The crowd boos him loudly and Riley nearly pees himself as he drops the mic to the mat, grinning, and leaps off the top rope with a flying headbutt!

SHE MOVES! Annie rolls out of the way, letting Flesher slam into the mat face-first! Still a little groggy, Annie gets to her feet and turns to face Flesher. As he slowly pushes up, Annie catches him with a kick to the chest and shouts, "Tommy, can you hear me?" She kicks him again, and yells, "Tommy, can you feel me?" One more kick to the chest, accompanied by, "Tommy, can you see me?" She finishes the sequence by grabbing Flesher's head and nailing a knee strike to the face, sending him to the mat. She waits a moment, then angrily, vindictively walks across his face, to a massive pop from the crowd. An "ANNIE E! ANNIE E!" chant breaks out; she simply waits in her stance for Flesher to get up.

"Well, she certainly got him back!" says Stevens gleefully.

Riley, meanwhile, just pouts and mutters something about gimmick infringement.

After a moment, Tom gets to his feet, only to be met with a kick to the stomach and a front facelock. Annie takes hold of Tom's belt and lifts him up, then spikes him to the mat with the Annie-T! She rolls him onto his back and covers him for

ONE!

TWO!

THREE- NO!!!!!!! Flesher kicks out at the last possible second!

"She went for it too early! Annie hadn't set it up properly, and Flesher's just not as susceptible to DDTs and brainbusters!" says Mark Stevens. "An extra few moves, and Annie would have had him, but not that way!"

"But MARK," says Riley patronizingly, "NO ONE kicks out of the Annie-T!"

Annie, looking only slightly surprised, pulls Flesher up to his feet and goes for another facelock. Flesher clamps down on her arm and swings it through, acting on instinct to free himself with the amateur-style counter and ending up with a side bear hug. Flesher steps around quickly and throws Annie backwards with a released German suplex, dropping her on her neck and shoulders. Flesher falls to the mat, unable to capitalize.

"And just like that, the momentum has shifted!" says Stevens.

"... For the better!" adds Riley.

"Annie was going for a second Annie-T, and Flesher countered, following it up with a German suplex that took the starch right out of his opponent!"

As Fernley starts to administer the standard count, both workers start to get to their feet. Flesher gets up nominally more quickly, and as Annie comes up, he grabs her and spins her around. Grabbing her in a belly-to-back lock, he spins around, twists her position in mid air and sits out, slamming her to the mat in a Blue Thunder Bomb! Flesher holds her there for

ONE!

TWO!

but Annie kicks out! Stevens declares, "It's going to take more than that to keep the Hardcore Queen down!" Flesher shoves her off to the side and regains his footing, then yanks her back to her feet. He looks her over, seeming to debate two possible courses of action, and eventually locks on a front chancery. He lifts the much-lighter Angel skyward and holds her upside-down, stalling...

stalling...

STALLING......

until, with a CRASH, he falls to the mat and completes the brainbuster! "Ouch!" says Riley. "That's gotta hurt, especially for a chick like Annie!"

"What do you have against women? Annie's more than capable of beating many of the top men in the SWF!"

"Eh, just never had much use for her ilk."

Flesher declines to cover Annie, instead picking her up and setting her on the top turnbuckle. Flesher climbs to the top rope, locks on a front facelock and lifts Annie up. Holding her vertically, he stalls for just a moment before falling back. The impact would be amazing for anyone, but even moreso considering the two combatants combined weigh less than HVille Thugg solo. The Boilermaker claims another victim.

"Oh my God!" shouts Stevens. "What a way to punctuate a title defense- Annie Eclectic may be DEAD!"

"Good riddance," spits Riley.

Flesher rolls over, covering Annie in what's all but a formality.

ONE!

TWO!

THREE- NO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

"HOLY SHIT!" Stevens is surprised, to say the least. Riley's jaw drops.

"Mark?" he says.

Stevens asks, "Yes?"

"I'm scared."

Stevens looks over, thoroughly creeped out. "Well, yes, Bobby. Me too, now."

Flesher looks at Fernley, unsure of what to do. His jaw is practically on the floor. "No one has EVER kicked out of the Boilermaker," says Stevens. "Annie's the Hardcore Queen, but I think even SHE'S surprised!"

"Oh, god, Mark, what's he gonna do?"

Flesher grabs his head in shock, wondering what the hell to do. Finally, it dawns on him. he grabs Annie and puts her in a standing double chicken wing, then spins around, putting her in position for...

"THE UNPRETTIER! We're SAVED!"

Flesher kicks his legs out, slamming the still-groggy Annie face-first into the mat. With a loud THUD, her face hits the mat. Quickly, Flesher rolls over, hooks Annie's leg and covers her for

ONE!

TWO!

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

DING DING DING!!!!!!

Flesher rolls, exhausted, off Annie as Fernley raises his arm and Funyon announces, "the winner, and STILL SWF Light Heavyweight Champion, 'The Superior One' Tom Flesher!!!"

"What a finish!" says Mark Stevens. "Annie Eclectic kicks out of the Boilermaker, but she still can't survive an Unprettier!"

"Which is ironic, when you think about it..."

"Flesher retains both his titles!"

"...cuz, you know, she's kind of..."

Riley is cut off, though, by a loud pop for Tod deKindes! Tod comes running down the ramp at full speed, ready to chase Flesher down. Flesher looks up, sees deKindes, andmutters an expletive and immediately rolls out of the ring. He makes a beeline for the timekeeper's table, grabs both belts, and vaults the guardrail. Tod chases after, but as Tom Flesher runs away through the crowd, we fade.

September 7, 2002

*** … Just as the victor's theme music comes to a stop, we see the curtains near the gorilla position, minding their own business … until Tom Flesher appears from behind them, U.S. title in hand! He appears out of breath, and running from someone. ***

Tom: Oh shit, not again … This guy wants me DEAD! I'm outta here!!

*** With belt flowing in the backstage gust of wind, Tom walks the long hallways of the A.C.C., headed towards the talent's parking lot. After rousting the attendant for the keys to his rental car, he presses the button, hoping to deactivate the anti theft device. Nothing. ***

Tom: Now what?! … Oh GOD, no!!

*** He notices his car. It's resting on four cinder blocks, wheel-less, broken windows, and a big "GUTEN TAG" is spray painted on the hood in black. ***

Tom: No … This can't be!! Hey!! Did you see who did this??!

Attendant: No, but when I got here I saw this dude in a trench coat getting out of here.

Tom: Trench coat … Tod … Wait, but he was just … ! … That son of a BITCH!! Didn't you try to catch him??

Attendant: What am I, a cop?? Pfft!!

Tom: Man!! … To hell with you!!

*** He storms away from there, rethinking some strategy, mumbling away something. ***

Tom: Lil nazi punk son of a bitch … He wants his title shot? FINE!! I'll give him his damn title shot …

*** That's all the german boy wonder needed to hear, as he suddenly blasts into the picture, sending Tom crashing into the Klangy Metal Poles© ! The two brawl like wildmen, each trying to get a shot in, until the usual hoard of road agents and referees come in and quickly try to break it up. While Tom is being restrained by three guys and shouting profanities every two seconds, Tod offers almost no resistance, as he seems to have accomplished his desired task for tonight. Proud of his work, he adjusts the lapels on his trench coat and casually walks away. ***

September 7, 2002

‘The fire still burns.’

The clip shows Divefire being destroyed by the HVille Thugg and Chris Wilson on the first Snake Eyes, over a year previously.

‘The fire still burns.’

Another clip, this time of Divefire slowly pulling his mask off after further injuring the Hville Thugg’s neck on the recent Armageddon.

‘The fire still burns.’

The next clip in the montage shows Divefire and Jay Dawg, standing tall, side-by-side as Divefire joined Creative Control.

‘The fire still burns.’

Divefire is seen having a conversation with Chris Wilson.

‘The fire still burns.’

And a look of murder runs through the face of Divefire as he stares right through Wilson’s eyes.

‘The fire still burns.’

This clip shows Perfect Bo being cheated (In so many ways) in his match against Chris Wilson for the ICTV title.

‘The fire still burns.’

Now the match is made…but the Boston Strangler is thrown in the mix.

‘The fire still burns’

The clip shows the group of the ICTV champion and Boston Strangler…M7…face to face with the team of Perfect Bo and Divefire…Creative Control.

‘The fire still burns.’

“Welcome back ladies and gentleman to Storm!” Riley gushes from besides the ring, greeting the audience at home back to the world of the Smarks Wrestling Federation. “We’ve got a treat for you up next, the team of Boston Strangler and his leader Chris Wilson goes head to head with the team of the powerful and experience Perfect Bo and the lightning fast, martial artist…Divefire!”

“I for one remember the vicious assault done against Divefire…” Mark Stevens reminisces briefly, “But what he did to the Thugg was unnecessary, he could have killed him!”

“Thugg almost killed him!” Riley retorts in defence of his friend. “Many people thought Divefire was dead, if not, retired. I think what Divefire did to Thugg was a positive thing. Thugg shouldn’t have done that and that’s why Divefire finished him once and for all.”

“But two wrongs don’t make a right.” The Boy Scout replies.

“Who ever told you that pile of crap?” Riley retorts with a smirk. “Two wrongs makes you even…and Divefire is even with Thugg. Now Wilson is next.”

“Oh well…I really don’t care much about Wilson…nor Bo…well, none of them hacks. I just want to see a good match.” Steven’s mutters, resigning himself to the bloodshed most likely forthcoming.

“Oh you will.” Riley chuckles, a smile on his face… “You will.”

The arena dims down, and the Smark-Tron™ goes completely black as “Burn to Burn” by Static X begins to play. Strangler appears from behind the curtain, clad in his wrestling attire, a battered black trench coat, and a pair of sunglasses. The crowd rips into Strangler, who flashes them a sarcastic grin before briskly walking down the ramp. He trots to the bottom, and slides into the ring underneath the bottom rope.

“The following is a tag team match and is schedule for one fall!” Funyon yells into the mic with his usual finesse and control. “Coming in first…weighing in at 306 pounds…hailing from Boston, Massachusetts…representing the Magnificent 7…The BBBOOOSSSTTTOOONNN SSSTTTRRRAAANNNGGGLLLEEERRR!!!”

Strangler climbs to his feet, and walks to a corner, where he removes his sunglasses and trench coat, which he tosses to someone waiting outside the ring. He turns around and waits for his leader and for tonight, his partner.

“That’s the power house of the Magnificent Seven and he’s ready for some action.” Riley intones, studying the figure of the Strangler, and no, not in THAT way.

“There are some interesting notes about the Boston Strangler and Bo.” Mutters Grand Slam in a form of a reply.

“Yeah…and what is that oh smart Mark?” Riley questions, looking across to his broadcasting partner.

“Heh, I like it when people call me that…” Mark gives a quick shit eating grin before carrying on. “Ok, the notes that I was referring is this…TBS, as many people call him is from Boston.”

“Yeah…so?”

“Bo is from New York.”

“And your point is?”

“Boston and New York dislike each other very much…hell, they practically hate each other since that Babe Ruth curse back in the days.”

“They hate each other because of…baseball?”

“That’s right…and this will be interesting to see of what might pop up in this match.”

“Boston and New York have some weird people…” Mutters Riley, shaking his head with disdain as the arena lights dim out again.

‘Ah.... Ah.ah...ah.... ah.ah...ah...’

A female voice coos softly over the speakers before the St. Lunatics start to blast…

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

The lights kick out fully and a thin layer of fog floats over the arena as the crowd rises to its feet in unison booing. Chris Wilson steps out onto the ramp, Ruby Juliet Oakleys blazing as he scans the crowd, soaking in the raw emotion. He begins to walk down the ramp, black trench coat swirling around him as he does.

“And his partner…weighing in at 273 pounds…hailing from Miami, Florida…he is the Intercontinental-Television champion…leader of the Magnificent Seven…CCCHHHRRRIIISSS WWWIIILLLSSSOOONNN.” Funyon announces.

Wilson walks up the steps, takes a look at the crowd, and then steps through the middle rope. He puts his Oakleys and gloves into his trench coat and takes it off, handing it to the referee. Wilson looks at his partner TBS and nod his head in concurrence of what they’re planning to do in this match.

“And he comes the ICTV champion…he cheated his way for victory last week on storm…and when I say cheated, I mean cheated…it just seems that another person was fighting Bo.” Riley mentions in a semi cryptic fashion.

“I know what you’re saying…not even Bo ever cheated like that…and we all know that he’s a cheater.” Mark replies, trying to state that Bo always cheats but at the same time feels sorry for the perfect one.

Once again the lights of the arena dim and the Smark-Tron™ awakes as Bo appears on the video screen saying: “I will not fall, I will stand tall, ya all are underneath me.” An explosion rips out from right in front of the stage as a paragraph brake before Bo continues to speak: “I’m from the home of 9/11, the place of the lost towers, regardless of that we never lose power.” Another explosion roars out and then “New York City” by Cam’ron and Jay-Z hits. After the smoke clears, standing right where the explosion was is Bo…

“And their opponent…making his way down to the ring weighing in at 285 pounds…hailing from the Bronx, in New York City…representing Creative Control…PPPEEERRRFFFEEECCCTTT BBBOOO.”

But Bo has his head lowered to the ground, rather then walking for the ring. After a few seconds have passed he looks up, hearing all the boos from the crowds and not giving a damn. He sees Wilson and TBS standing in the ring, staring at him, waiting. But he still doesn’t move, he just stands there, waiting, waiting for the man himself, the former champion, for the firestarter…

Then the lights to the arena dim for the final time for this match, letting a certain stillness enter the building. A moment later 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, Divefire is seen right next to Bo…side by side. Divefire and Bo both look at each other, a silent agreement between them as both parties nod.

“And his partner…making his in-ring return” Shills Funyon for all he’s worth. “Weighing in at 192 pounds…hailing from England…DDDIIIVVVEEEFFFIIIRRREEE.”

The two men still look at each other and then all of a sudden, without a second of converse they both start running down the ramp. The crowd shifts from its constant booing to cheering for some action. Divefire and Bo both slide in the ring at speed, Divefire is the first one up and he goes toe to toe, blow for blow with Wilson. The referee jumps out of the way and signals for the bell as TBS and Bo both swings right hands at each other.

‘Ding, Ding, Ding’

“Now they’re really starting off fast!” Riley yells into his mic, getting into seeing his old friend back in action.

“Who do you think will have the advantage?” Mark asks Riley, not really caring who wins but still being the perfect professional.

“I think Magnificent 7 has the advantage. Why, you ask? Because Divefire, even though he’s great, has been out for about a year and there is a thing called ring rust.”

“But when Bo came back he won his match…” Mark replies with clear facts.

“But it was against Annie, everybody could beat her.” Shoots Riley.

Back in the ring, a swift kick to the thigh of Wilson from Divefire stops his onslaught of punches, a follow up middle kick drives the IC champion back in pain. Meanwhile, Bo has Strangler backing up towards the ropes with his stinging right hands. Bo takes a step back and then clotheslines the momentarily stunned TBS over the top rope to the outside. Wilson is now by the ropes, Divefire takes a step back and goes forward for a clothesline, but Wilson ducks in the last minute and back body drops Divefire over the top rope who flips through the air and lands right on his feet. Wilson locks eyes with Bo and is about to go to him when Divefire trips him up with a hand through the ropes. Bo runs to Wilson and drops an elbow right to the back of his neck. TBS slides in and goes to attack Bo but the referee is in the way and pushes him back, demanding he goes to his corner. Bo gets up and at the same time he helps Wilson as well, but he quickly takes him down with a snapmare and applies a reverse chinlock. All the while Divefire watches from Creative Controls corner as Wilson and Bo fight.

“Well…finally Bo can get some retribution against Wilson…because the way Bo was cheated out of the ICTV title was un-called for.” Mark says, still feeling sorry for what happen to Bo as the enforcer of all justice and right things.

“Let see if he can do it.” Riley chimes in, watching the violence with glee.

Wilson twist his body to the side so that Bo has him in a side headlock, then Wilson places his hand right in the middle of Bo’s back and attempts to whip Bo towards the ropes but Bo doesn’t let go of his head. The Perfect One continues to wrench the neck with a vengeance as Wilson attempts another whip but the result is the same, as Bo does not let go of the head. Wilson gets tired of doing what he is supposed to do and wraps his arm around Bo’s waist, lifts him up and drops him down in a modified Suplex/backdrop. Wilson gets up pretty quickly but Bo follows as he gets tagged with a right hand. Regardless of the hit Bo still manages to get to his feet. Wilson grabs Bo by the arm and whips him across to the ropes, but Divefire is in that corner and reaches out as Bo bounces off. Bo suddenly grabs the top rope and stops himself from repelling back to Wilson and Divefire leaps over the top rope and stares down Wilson.

“Yeah!” Riley yells with enthusiasm. “They’re finally going to get it on!”

“I can’t wait for it myself…” Mark replies sounding oh so eger.

The two veterans of the IGNWF continue to lock eyes, staring a hole into each other’s souls. Divefire makes a motion with his head, stating for Wilson to come towards him and fight. Wilson raises his eyebrows in surprise, then motion his head to Divefire stating the same thing, to come over and fight. Divefire raises his own brow in a little shock at Wilson’s actions. He continues to look, shakes his head and then motions it inward for Wilson to come and fight.

“Both of them want to fight, but none of them want to make the first move.” Steven’s expositions for the blind as the crowds start a ‘boring’ chant, lost on the psychology of blood letting.

Wilson again shakes his head ‘no’ and quickly follows with a motion by his head telling Divefire for him to come and fight. Divefire shakes his hand no and then with the same hand motions Wilson to come on over. Wilson smiles, shakes his head no, stick out his right arm and then gives his old advisory the bird. Wilson pulls his arm back and reaches over to the distant Strangler who makes the tag and steps over the top rope. Walking over to where Wilson was standing, he stretches his body out to continue the mind games, displaying his muscle and physique. Divefire isn’t that impressed and he gives a sly smile to the Strangler and motions for him to come and get some of the firestarter. Strangler smiles as only he can and begins to walk towards the ready for action Divefire.

“This is it! The first time Divefire is going to fight in the ring for over a year!” Screams Riley, almost out of his seat.

“Look at him…” Mark intones in a rather more calm voice. “Is he meditating?”

“I don't know…” Riley replies, sounding curious. “This may not be good for the guy from Boston.”

Divefire turns his body to the side and closes his eyes in a seemingly suicidal manor. He puts his arms towards his chest and begins to breathe hard. Boston doesn’t seem concerned at the myth; the legend that is called Divefire and continues to walk towards him. Little sweat beads build up around Divefire’s forehead, TBS takes another step forward and he’s about 3 feet away from him.

“Is it me, or is it hot in here?” Riley says, flipping his collar away from his skin.

Strangler takes another step forward, watching his victim carefully as he closes the distance between them to a foot and then an explosion occurs, Strangler gets thrown across the ring with such force it’s like he’s just been shot. The front rows of the crowds just stand up in shock as they see Divefire standing there, in a fighting position still waiting for something to happen.

“Holy shit!” Riley screams down the mic. “Fear of the Flames! Divefire just one inch punched Strangler across the whole freaking ring!”

“Yeah, I think we all noticed that, Bobby.” Mark replies trying to move his eyes back to a normal size.

Wilson looks up at Divefire in shock and amazement while Divefire simply smirks, thinking that Wilson isn’t coming in any time soon so he walks back to his corner and tags his partner which the Perfect One happily accepts. Wilson looks up at the tag that just occurred and smiles, reaching down towards Strangler’s slowly stirring body and tags himself in. Bo sees this and also smiles, as they both go through the ropes, a thought of a quick attack flashing through both men’s minds but both knowing they would be ready for that.

“It seems that they’re both happy to see each other.” Riley voice smirks over the mic. “Can’t blame Wilson though, who the hell wants to face Divefire…”

“But I can’t blame Bo for that matter” Concurs Mark in his cool tones. “Because he was cheated in such a bad way.” Then the baseball star sighs at himself. “I gotta stop feeling bad for Bo.”

Bo and Wilson get closer to each other, both men looking for an avenue of attack. They’re about to lock up, a clean lock up, when Bo pokes the Genius in the eye and then follows it up with a hard right hand, rocking Wilson back towards the ropes. Wilson reaches the ropes, driven back by the pounding of right hands he’s receiving from Bo. The perfect one quickly grabs Wilson by the arm and whips him across the ring, Bo rebounds back and watches the dazed Wilson making a mistake by having his head down early, giving Bo the chance to nail a swinging neckbreaker. Bo doesn’t make the cover, instead he helps Wilson up and whips him towards Creative Control’s corner, Divefire shifting to one side, hands raised and smirking. Bo grabs Wilson and twirls him around so that Bo’s back is in the turnbuckle, he climbs up to a sitting position on the turnbuckle and twirls Wilson so that he’s facing Wilson’s back. Bo then applies a reverse Chinlock and starts to lift him up in the air. In the Magnificent Seven’s corner, Strangler screams at the ref about the illegal manoeuvre and demands a count.

“Bo has a nice looking elevated chin lock there, can’t believe Strangler of all people is demanding the ref counts.” Mark sighs at the heel like activities in the ring.

“You know what it’s like Mark, you take any advantage you can get, even if it is via referee.” Bobby replies with such professionalism.

The referee starts the count on Bo, after the count of 4, Bo lets Wilson go and then tags Divefire in who flips over the ropes quickly. Bo doesn’t leave the ring as they both leaver Wilson to his feet, whipping him towards the ropes. Wilson rebounds back and sees both Divefire and Bo bending down for a back body drop attempt but Wilson ruins the plan by lifts Bo up with a stiff kick to the chest. Divefire stands up quickly but has to get down fast as Wilson tries to slice his head off with a clothesline, the move impacting into a rising Bo and sending him down to the mat again. Wilson looks down at Bo and then quickly turns around to get a fist slamming right into his stomach, staggering him back a pace. A fast elbow strike follows up and then Divefire spins around in a blaze of speed and rips a backhand across Wilson’s jaw. Divefire smirks at his advisory as he shakes his head, trying to clear it and only seeing the smaller man’s visage. With a burst of rage Wilson charges at the ninja and spears him hard to the mat, climbing atop of him and slamming some angry fists into Divefire’s own jaw line.

“Looks like the Fire Combination only made Wilson mad.” Riley intones, wincing as each hit is made.

“Well if Wilson kept running Divefire was going to rip him apart.” Mark adds, just keeping a smirk from his voice. “Now if he starts fighting…”

“He’ll just delay the inevitable?” Riley asks of his co-commentator, who just shrugs and tries not to smile.

In the ring, Wilson continues to slam fists into Divefire’s face, until the referee tries to pull him off. Wilson curses the ref and shoves him away, turns back to Divefire and gets a palm shot under the jaw, staggering his weight off Divefire’s shoulders. With a twist the Brit gets his legs free and powers Wilson off him and flips up in the same motion. Slowly he wipes a hand across his mouth, then looks at the blood on his fingers. His gaze fixes on the standing Wilson, eyes tightening in rage as he motions for Wilson to come get some. This time Wilson smirks, shaking his head and folding his arms in response.

“Wilson’s brain just kicked into gear, he’s trying to bait and trap Divefire.” Mark offers to the fans at home as to some explanation of the ring psychology.

“Uh oh.” Is all that Riley can add, knowing exactly what his long-term friend is going to do next.

Of course this just drives Divefire over the edge and he charges the IC champion. Wilson is more the ready for him this time, side stepping the charge and using the moment to throw Divefire up high and drive him down to the mat with authority. He goes to follow it up with a guillotine leg drop but Divefire rolls to the side and then dives for Wilson, slapping on a chokehold. He pulls the IC champion to his feet, sinking it in further and ignoring the referee who demands the brake. Wilson takes matters into his own hands and drives an elbow into Divefire’s gut, but he refuses to take off the hold. Wilson goes for another, but Divefire rolls over Wilson’s back landing the other side of the Mastermind and driving an elbow into his head. The blow forces Wilson to stand as Divefire spins around with the momentum and looks to land another palm strike, but Wilson spirals away and grabs a hold of the arm and sinks in a makeshift arm bar.

“Nice exchange of moves there, Wilson with the arm bar out of the Street Lock.” Says an almost impressed Mark Stevens.

“Yeah, Divefire might have the most unorthodox fighting style in the SWF, but you can still counter a punch if you know what you’re doing.” Riley adds, wincing again as Wilson tightens the arm bar on Divefire.

Divefire struggles to make it for the ropes to brake the hold as Wilson keeps his weight on the move, wrenching the arm back. Realising quickly that he won’t make the ropes, Divefire takes the more direct approach and reaches behind him with his free arm and grabbing a hand full of Wilson’s hair, yanking liberally before Wilson pulls his head away. Divefire tries again, this time though he jabs his fingers forward and right into Wilson’s temple. Wilson lets the hold go somewhat in surprise and pain, letting Divefire get his feed under him and start to stand up. Wilson does the same but refuses to let the hold go, instead driving a boot into the midsection of the former IGNWF World Champion. Pulling Divefire over to the Magnificent Seven’s corner Wilson tags in Strangler who climbs over the ropes and drives a big boot into Divefire’s midsection, making sure he’s winded before taking control of the situation. As Wilson climbs back over for a rest, Strangler locks Divefire’s arms behind him and drives his head into the mat with a double arm DDT.

“Lights Out by Strangler, getting a little retribution for the one inch punch earlier!” Mark entails for those just tuning in.

Indeed as Strangler goes for the first cover of the match, the four men to intent on beating the hell out of each other rather then winning, the referee’s count gets just past two before Divefire kicks out with some authority. Strangler seems rather annoyed at this, standing and dragging the man who’s a foot shorter then him to his feet. Violently, he whips Divefire for the ropes and as he comes back, Strangler tries to catch him in the beginnings of a choke slam. Divefire though ducks past the attempt and bounces off the far ropes, leaps into the air as Strangler turns and warps his legs around the man from Boston’s head. A second later, Stranglers’s head slams into the mat as Divefire completes the head scissors take down to a small pop from the crowds.

Still feeling the effects of the double arm DDT, the tag veteran slaps skin with Bo for a quick rest and Bo charges into the ring as Strangler gets to his feet, shaking the cobwebs away. Wilson tries to shout a warning but it’s a little late as Bo charges into Strangler with a body check, driving him back a pace. A handful of fists rock Strangler back a few more paces and a fired up Bo whips the taller man for the ropes, Strangler comes back and Bo goes for the neckbreaker again, but so does Strangler. The two men crash down to the mat, both trying to take out the other’s vertebrae. The ref quickly starts a double count as Divefire leans over the ropes and yells to Bo, encouraging his partner to get up. Wilson meanwhile seems less then bothered and simply watches Strangler trying to catch his breath.

The ref’s count gets to 5 before Bo rolls to his feet, Strangler a few steps behind him. Bo lunges for his corner and just makes the tag and Divefire once again flips over the ropes to another pop. Strangler staggers to his feet and makes for his corner, just making it before Divefire’s on him. But before Strangler can tag, his boss leaps off the apron, hands in the air and shaking his head. Strangler looks somewhat stunned at the move and his mouth just widens as Divefire hits a low blow on the big man. Clutching his package Strangler turns around and gets whipped into the opposite corner where Bo awaits. Bo nails some illegal punches on Strangler before Divefire tags Bo in. The two Creative Control team mates share a nod and Bo hoists Strangler onto his shoulders, bench presses him up and tosses him off as Divefire leaps up and locks in a ¾ neck breaker around Strangler’s neck.

“DVD Bomb!” Screams Riley yet again down the mic. “I haven’t seen that for to long! Devastating tag manoeuvre, this is over!”

Indeed it seems Wilson concurs with the assessment and rather the trying to make the save, the Magnificent Seven leader is heading up the ramp way already. Divefire looks around for his advisory and spots him, diving for the ropes but then pausing and looking to Bo, who just nods with a smile and makes the cover on Strangler. Divefire charges out of the ring and up the ramp way after Wilson who’s on the stage now. He turns just in time to get a flying kick to the face then Divefire really starts to rip into him with a series of blows as the bell rings and Funyon gets on the mic. “You’re winners via pinfall, Perfect Bo and Divefire!”

Some of the crowds pop for the victory but most seem more interested in the fight on the stage as Divefire continues to pound into Chris Wilson. Divefire reaches back and measure’s Wilson for the Flame Out, and a chair smashes into the back of his head. Then again, dropping Divefire to his knees. A third shot floors Divefire and a forth is given for good measure. The camera pans in on the assailant and the image of The Prophet fills the screen, chair in hand and sick grin on face as Wilson pats his shoulder and they go to the back as we cut to commercial.

September 7, 2002

Breggan and Pete fuck each other in the ass. I'm not sure whether it's a double no show or King didn't send me the winner, but....for now, these two love the cock and the rest is history.

September 7, 2002

***BOOM***

A glistening wall of pyrotechnics erupts from the stage, signaling the return of SWF Storm! The camera pans the amped crowd for an instant, until it eventually stops short at the commentator’s table, where both Bob Riley and Mark Stevens reside.

Stevens: “Welcome back, ladies, gents, and everything in between to SWF Storm! We’ve had our share of excitement already, but next match pits the combined efforts of Mag7 members Chilly Chilly Bang Bang and Danny Williams, against XF9 members Tod deKindes and Ash Ketchum, joined by Xero. It’s sure to be a keeper.”

Riley: “Hey look! Funyon!”

The screen accordingly cuts down to the ring, where Funyon, outfitted in a HHH “NO FOREPLAY” t-shirt in the essence of Casual Friday, acquires a microphone and begins the introductory ritual.

Funyon: “Ahem, ladies and gentlemen, and Bob Riley, this contest is scheduled for one fall, and is a 6-man-tag match! Introducing first…”

“Figure 8” by Trust Company blares from the loudspeakers, sending the crowd into a frenzy of cheers! A towering green “X” rotates on the Smarktron, drawing a thunderous “X! F! 9!” chant from the heated crowd.

Funyon: “…a combined weight of over 600 pounds, they are Ash Ketchum, Xero, Tod deKindes…they are, X…F…NIIIIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNNEEEEEEE!!!”

The arena floods with a sea of sudden liveliness, as Ash Ketchum pokes his head out behind the curtain that conceals the backstage area, a broad smile painted across his face. With one quick movement, the Pokefreak pounces out onto the stage, raising his arms up into the air, and is immediately followed by his more solemn accomplices, Xero and Tod deKindes. Tod and Xero pace down the ramp rather hurriedly, concentrating heavily on the match to come, Ash eagerly trotting behind them, green and white pyro flaring from the stage. The audience continues to show their approval in quite a fervent manner, until Ash reaches the nadir of the ramp, and slides into the ring, where his two teammates already await him. He continues to egg on the rabid fans, while Tod and Xero each simply raising a single arm of pride.

Riley: “Pfft, that Ash, always showing off like the cocky brat that he is. Why can’t he understand that it’s all about what happens DURING the match, and not before it?”

Stevens: “Oh, and you were always Bob ‘Let’s-Get-Down-To-Business’ Riley, weren’t you Mr. 10-Charisma? But concerning the match…notice how Xero is being treated almost as if he were an actual member of the group here.”

Riley: “Attempting to kill the same group of people just really brings people together.”

Stevens: “Well, they DO all have that in common, yes. But will they succeed?”

Riley: “Let’s get Mag7 out here and find out!”

Suddenly, as if Ted the tech-guy read Bobby’s mind, the chilling tunes of System of a Down’s “Toxicity” immediately emit from the loudspeakers, followed by a cooperative “BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!” courtesy of the audience. Darkness fills most of the stadium, while a single lavender spotlight focusing on center stage.

Funyon: “…And their opponents, almost 800 pounds of evil intent, ‘Deathwish’ Danny Williams, ‘TNT Taylor Nicholas Thompson, Frost…together they are…THE MAGNIFICENT SEEEEEVVVVVEEEEEENNNNN!!!!!!”

On cue with this announcement, the hulking silhouettes of Frost and Taylor Thompson emerge on stage, followed by the smaller composure of Danny Williams, just as a flurry of sporadic strobe-lights invades the entrée-way! The number “7” slinks across the Smarktron, and TNT and Frost shuffle down the aisleway, beer cans hailing down, Deathwish just a step behind. The troublesome trio approaches the ring, where Williams slides into the squared circle while each Chilly Chilly Bang Bang member hops up onto the outside apron, and saunter over to the side turnbuckles. They each climb up their individual ring post, letting out mighty roars to the negatory spectators, whereas Danny simply meanders around the ring, stretching out and testing the ring ropes. The three then retreat to their given corner, discussing who will start out the match, as their music gradually dies down.

Stevens: “The tag champs noticeably have NOT brought their belts down to the ring tonight for some reason…”

Riley: “OF COURSE NOT! What if someone were to steal them? Those things could go up on E-Bay for thousands of dollars you know.”

Stevens: “Yes, well, Xero and Danny seem to be the chosen competitors to start this out oddly enough. And the match is about to get underway, as the former tag partners collide!”

***DING DING DING***

Williams and Xero step out of their corners, while their teammates shout last minute instructions. The fans applaud as the former tag partners pause for a second to stare each other down. They circle one another once and lunge forward to meet in a collar elbow tie up. Williams gains the advantage with a forceful headlock takedown, and Xero wisely rolls over on his stomach to keep from getting pinned.

Stevens: “These two are taking out their bad blood with actual wrestling here, using their styles to the fullest.”

Riley: “It won’t last. Xero, Tod and Ash are some of the dirtiest players in the game.”

Xero frantically pushes Williams up to a vertical base and starts throwing elbows into Williams’ gut. More annoyed than hurt, Williams releases Xero from the headlock and drives an elbow into his jaw! Xero blocks it, and counters with a stiff Roundhouse Kick to Williams’ ribs! The sound of boot smacking against meaty flesh echoes through the arena, drawing flinches and cheers from the crowd.

Stevens: “Ouch, what a kick! It sounded like he might have broken a rib!”

Riley: “Are Xero’s boots regulation weight?”

Stevens: “Wha--?”

Williams clutches his stomach, and goes back-peddling into the ropes. Xero stays on Williams, and blasts his ribs with an even harder Roundhouse Kick!

Riley: “I got a funny feeling Xero is kicking Williams with illegally weighed down boots.”

Stevens: “You can’t be serious, Riley.”

Riley: “I’ve never been more serious. Back in the day I used to...I mean some guys used to put steel weights in their boots, kind of the brass knuckles of the footwear department.”

Stevens: “You’re sick.”

Xero grabs Williams arm, and shoots him off the ropes with an Irish whip. Williams runs across the ring against his will, while Xero takes position in the center. Crack! Instead of hitting the ropes, Williams knocks Tod of the apron with a hard Running Elbow! CRACK! Williams spins around and blasts a surprised Ash with a Rolling Elbow out of nowhere! Ash’s legs give out, and he tumbles to the floor below with a sickening thump! Boos echo from the fans.

Stevens: “Williams takes out Tod and Ash with a series of unprovoked cheap shots!”

Riley: “Unprovoked? Tod stepped right into Williams’ path and Ash rammed his own face into Williams’ elbow in a disgusting attempt to frame him.”

Eager to correct his mistake, a shocked Xero compromises by quickly charging at his opponent, runing right into a sharp back elbow! A dazed Xero staggers around like a drunk, allowing Williams to easily trap him in a front facelock. Williams drapes Xero’s arm over his shoulder and smiles at the crowd.

Riley: “Williams setting Xero up for..............the DANGEROUS BRAINBUSTER!”

Williams grabs hold of Xero’s tights, but before he can lift him, an angered Tod slides into the ring. Tod darts behind Williams, and casually kicks him in his bad ankle!. “DAAAAAAAAAAH!” cries Williams as a burning pain shoots through his foot. Tod steps back out on the apron with a satisfied smirk on his face, while Williams struggles to keep Xero in the suplex setup.

Riley: “What the hell! Now THAT was an unprovoked cheap shot! Not only did he hit a man with his back turned, he kicked him in his bad ankle.”

Suddenly, Xero takes Williams to the mat with a slick Armbar takedown! Williams screams and scratches the mat, while Xero tries to hyper extend his left elbow with a reverse Armbar. Xero swiftly climbs on Williams’ back, modifying the hold into the Fujiwara Armbar! A terrified Williams screams like a banshee and starts desperately flinging his limbs about in search of the ropes.

Stevens: “A FUJIWARA ARMBAR! That move is just as painful and dangerous as the Cross Armbreaker that Williams made Xero tap with on Smarkdown!”

Before Xero can fully straighten the arm out, Williams rolls forward and manages to get his feet under the bottom rope. Knowing the rules all too well, Xero releases Williams and pulls him up by his wrist. Xero gives Williams a slow, painful arm wringer and walks him towards his corner. Xero tags in Tod, sparking a “DE-KIND-DES!” chant from the crowd. Tod climbs to the top rope, while Xero holds Williams in place with the wristlock. Tod jumps off and brings a double axe handle down on Williams outstretched arm. Williams drops to his knees in agony, while Xero and Tod switch off on the wristlock.

Stevens: “Great teamwork by Tod and Xero! It appears they are going to target Williams’ arm.”

Riley: “Great teamwork, my ass! This might as well be a damn Tornado Tag Match, with the ref’s slow count on the double team.”

Xero drops down to the floor and helps the still wobbly Ash up on the apron. With a big smile on his face, Tod forcefully bends Williams’ arm into a hammerlock. Williams retorts however, by drives a nasty back elbow into Tod’s temple! Tod shakes off the blow and keeps the hammerlock tightly applied. Tod punishes Williams by straightening his arm out and than violently snapping it back into the hammerlock position. Williams cries out like someone shot a flaming arrow though his arm, simply causing Tod to inflict even more sadistic pain on Deathwish.

Stevens: “Tod must be really enjoying this. If you recall back in the SJL, Williams relentlessly worked over Tod’s poor arm for about three straight matches.”

Riley: “All vintage Williams, nobody touches his ability to isolate and destroy a body part.”

Stevens: “Ah Shut up, you don’t even watch the SJL.”

Williams swings another back elbow, but Tod catches and hooks it! Tod locks his hands together to bend Williams’ arms in a painful Double Arm Chickenwing!

Stevens: “Now this is interesting. Tod can either lift Williams up into the Elevated Double Chickenwing Submission or he can go for the Tiger Suplex.”

Riley: “If Tod was smart he would go for the submission, since Williams’ arm is in pretty rough shape right now.”

Williams starts taking slow, painful steps towards the ropes, while Tod struggles to hold him in place. Todski spots Danny, who is slowly advancing on the ropes, and reacts by abruptly snapping backward and tossing Williams high overhead! Williams’ lands grotesquely on his neck and shoulders, the audience sympathetically groaning.

Stevens: “TIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIGER SUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUPLEX!”

Groans soon turn to cheers however, as the crowd pops for the dangerous move. Williams rolls over on his knees and stands up on very shaky legs. With glazed over eyes, Williams staggers to the face corner with his hand extended to Xero. Xero meets Danny with a quick swipe across his jaw, sending him sprawling back, and causing the audience to chuckle with amusement.

Stevens: “Hehehe…That Tiger Suplex actually scrambled Williams’ brains so bad, that he thought he was still in a tag team with Xero.”

Riley: “How can you laugh at that? Williams could have a concussion for crying out loud.”

Tod snickers a bit, before tagging Xero back in. Xero helps Williams up, but gets rewarded with an elbow to the jaw! A still “out of it” Williams drops to his knees, while Xero staggers back in a daze. Xero shakes the cobwebs lose and helps Williams up again. Williams knocks Xero’s arms off of him, and fires another elbow! Xero blocks it and follows with a quick Roundhouse Kick! Williams catches his boot, drops it, spins around, and fires the Rolling Elbow! Xero ducks the maneuver, and catches Williams with Cross Face Chickenwing! The crowd gives a standing ovation as Xero gets the advantage of the stalemate. A “XERO!” chant can be heard from the audience, and Tod simply eggs it on as it grows louder and louder.

Stevens: “THE CROSSFACE CHICKENWING! Xero is using Danny’s old finisher against him!”

Riley: “Further proof of Xero being a leech to Danny. He couldn’t beat Williams with his own move set, so he just steals Williams’ moves.”

Frost rushes into the ring, and brings a heavy double axe handle across Xero’s back! Xero releases Williams and turns around to see what the hell hit him that hard. Williams crumbles to the mat, clutching his injured left arm. Frost grabs Xero by his throat as he spins around and lifts him in the air. Thump! Frost slams Xero to the mat with a powerful Chokeslam that causes Xero to bounce a few times after landing!

Riley: “Snowman to the rescue!”

Frost drags Williams to his corner by his good arm and slaps Williams’ hand across TNT’s. The crowd grumbles in disgust.

Stevens: “Now this is ridiculous, I can understand Frost breaking up the submission, but were the choke slam and assisted tag REALLY necessary?”

Riley: “Who cares if it was necessary, they got away with it. If that’s a problem with you, take it up with the spineless jelly fish that is Sexton Hardcastle, although I personally enjoy his officiating.”

Hardcastle darts over to the corner in order to get in Frost’s face. Frost glowers down at him and the referee backs up with a nervous smile on his face. Frost shoves Deathwish out to the apron and gives a nod of his head to his tag team partner.

Stevens: “Thompson enters the ring with Xero still out due to the choke slam, and maybe we can have some order restored here.”

Riley: “Bah, so the ‘good guys’ can be protected. If they can’t take the ass kicking, get out of the ring.”

Thompson leans down and pulls Xero up by his tights. He hooks the dazed man around his waist and hoists him up horizontal to the ring. TNT skips into the air and sideslams Xero stiffly to the canvas. He lays sloppily over him for the cover.

ONE!

TWO!

THR-

Stevens: “Shoulder up! Thompson was way too cocky on that cover.”

Riley: “I wouldn’t really call that a kick out, more like a muscle spasm due to brain damage.”

Taylor takes his feet and pulls Xero up by the sides of his bald skull. He gives the man a quick headbutt to keep him stunned and then whips him into the heel corner. He wipes his hand across his starting to bead forehead and flicks the sweat at Tod and Ash. Both men put a leg through the ropes, wanting to enter the ring as Hardcastle tries to keep them separated. Meanwhile, Frost chokes Xero out in the corner with his oversized mitts.

Stevens: “Bobby, your comments that this should just be a Tornado Tag are quite apropos now as Frost is turning this match into his personal beat down.”

Riley: “Are you saying that’s a bad thing?”

The fans jeer and wail to get the ref’s attention over to the corner. Thompson finally backs down from the XF9 members and struts back to his corner. He delivers a knee to Xero’s midsection and holds his hand up for the tag. Frost slaps with so much force, that Thompson reels back holding his hand. Taylor, though his hand still stings a bit, gives the thumbs up to Frost as he exits, the Iceman from Iceland stepping into the ring. Danny pulls himself up by the ring post and slumps over the ropes, still recovering.

Stevens: “Frost is now the legal man, not that the word ‘legal’ means anything to him. He drags Xero up and flops him on is shoulder.”

Riley: “Touchy, touchy aren’t we, Mark? The Mag7 are just using their brains, while their opponents have to resort to cheap tactics and double teaming and still can’t remain competitive.”

Frost revs up in place to build some momentum and then charges for the lower left ring corner. He pulls up short and tosses Xero up and off his shoulder to come crashing down into the top turnbuckle. He pops in the air and the flops face down to the canvas with a splat. Frost takes a step and swing up and around on his left leg to wallop an elbow down onto the back of Xero’s neck.

Stevens: “Snake Eyes by Frost and he rolls Xero over for the cover!”

ONE!

TWO!

THRE-

Tod drops to the floor and puts Xero’s foot on the ropes. He yells at Hardcastle and points at the placed leg. Sexton shrugs and pats Frost on the shoulder to break the pin.

Riley: “Oh, that’s not cheating, not at all, Mark. Putting a man’s foot on the ropes is as pure and pristine as the Virgin Mary.”

Stevens: “I would say it’s just deKindes using his brains.”

Riley: “Shut up, jerkwad.”

Frost bolts to his feet and points a finger out at Tod. The two men exchange heated words of violence. Frost leans over the ropes, his face beat red, and continues to lay on the verbal tongue lashing. Tod flips back his stringy hair to reveal his fiery eyes and points a finger back up at Frost.

Stevens: “While Frost and Tod engage in a war of words, Xero is slowly dragging and creeping his way around Frost to tag Ash.”

The audience busts fourth with a loud cheer that alerts Frost, who turns around to find Xero a scant few inches away from slapping Ketchum’s hand for the tag. Frost sends a boot crashing down into the back of Xero’s neck to send him flopping to the canvas. He bends down and yanks Xero up by his wrist and whips him stiffly back to his corner. Xero turns to take it in the back and slouches down, as Thompson eyes the ref, waiting for him to turn his back. Tod jumps back to the apron and Frost rears back a hand to tease a punch to both awaiting XF9’ers.

Riley: “They better be careful or Frost will fist them both good…”

Before Stevens can question that statement, the fans explode as Xero catches both TNT and Williams in the temple with an elbow apiece! He drops to all fours and scurries across the mat as Frost spins around once again due to the crowd noise. Xero darts between Frost’s spread legs, as he finishes his pivot and the lightweight grappler dives with one last burst of strength to touch palms with Tod deKindes. The fans erupt with renewed cheers as Tod springboards up over the ropes, and into the ring.

Stevens: “Xero digs down deep to make the tag, and survives the 3-1 odds!”

Riley: “Yadda, yadda, blah, blah, Xero is a hero to millions, yay.”

The flabbergasted Frost turns to meet him and his promptly floored by a dropkick to the chest. The fans roar on as both men climb to their feet and deKindes catches Frost with another dropkick to send him teetering over on his back. Tod hops up to the near bottom ropes while grabbing the top strand and bounces off and around to blast Frost with a springboard legdrop!

Stevens: “He scrambles for the cover!”

ONE!

TWO!

THR-

Riley: “Kick out! Frost is more off balanced than hurt by that fly buzzing around him.”

Tod springs to his feet while pulling Frost up with him. He goes to whip Frost into the far corner, but the Icelander reverses and sends Tod for the ride. He twists to take the turnbuckles in the back as Frost charges in with his head down for a shoulder block. Tod however, rams his right foot out to catch Frost in the jaw! The big man reels back and straightens up as deKindes leaps up to the second rope and sails off with a cocked elbow to the crown of Frost’s skull. He timbers back to the mat with a thud.

Stevens: “We’ve seen a nice increase in speed from Tod lately as he seems to have lost a few pounds in order to make the weight requirements for the light-heavyweight divison.”

Riley: “I question how he did that so fast? Some guys use steroids, some guys use speed.”

Tod makes the tag to Ash as Frost’s corner implores him to get up.

Stevens: “Ketchum sees his first bit action in this contest and how dare you insinuate that Tod is on speed.”

Riley: “Did I say that’s a bad thing? Our commissioner is named ‘McWeed’ for crying out loud. Although I’ve always been a ludes man myself.”

Ketchum rushes into the ring with a nice pop from the fans. He shoots them a thumbs up as he leans down to take Frost by the ends of closely cropped hair. He jams the grappler’s head under his armpit and then brings it up and over to rest on his shoulder before snapping it off with a swinging neckbreaker. Ash makes a lateral press for the cover.

ONE!

TWO!

THR-

Riley: “KICK OUT! Like you’re going to put Frost away with a swinging neckbreaker. Maybe if it was onto a bed of nails.”

Ketchum helps Frost to his feet with a wristlock and proceeds to jerk on it with an arm wringer. Frost runs in a circle, tapping his shoulder to keep it loose. Ash cranks on the wristlock and Frost drops to his knees. Ketchum reaches out with a free hand and tags Tod back in, who takes over on the wristlock and ratchets down on the shoulder with the arm wringer.

Stevens: “This is a nice counterpoint of speed versus size with the speedy team making the arm their body part of choice to work on.”

Riley: “’Roid rage versus heroin chic, truly this is the sport of kings.”

Tod scoops down while holding the arm wringer to take Frost across his shoulders. He can’t hold the near 300-pound behemoth and Frost slides off his back and to his feet. He shakes his right arm loose from Tod’s grip and cinches it around his neck to drop him with an inverted DDT! Frost scoots on his rear toward his corner.

Stevens: “OOO…Tod tried one of Ash’s move there with the Pikaslam and gets caught with the inverted DDT. Tag to Thompson!”

Riley: “Yet another example of why Ketchum is a bad influence on anybody.”

TNT runs into the ring and jumps into the air to crash down on Tod’s sternum with a knee drop. He folds forward and gives an ‘ooph’ from the blow. TNT covers.

ONE!

TWO!

THR-

Stevens: “Kick out! Tod is still way too fresh to be pinned.”

Riley: “That’s an advantage of a six-man-tag, you can keep guys out of the ring and fresh for when you really need them. Although, when you suck as bad as XF9 and Xero does, it really doesn’t matter.”

TNT makes his feet with a confident swagger and hoists Tod up with a waistlock. He spins the man up and around with a showy flourish and then impales him over his knee on the tilt-a-whirl backbreaker. He reaches out to tag Frost. The Icelander gingerly steps over the top rope, and slams an elbow into Tod’s throat as he lays over TNT’s knee! DeKindes slips to the mat as Thompson exits.

Stevens: “Nice, quick teamwork by the tag champions.”

Riley: “Well duh, they’re the tag champs for a reason, you know.”

Frost wrenches Tod up to his feet and tags Williams. He holds deKindes’ arm up to expose his side and Danny enters with an elbow to the ribs. Frost lets go and Tod staggers back. He leaves for the apron as Deathwish presses in on the German.

Stevens: “Both TNT and Frost were loners up until their successful partnership and seems like they might have taught Danny a thing or two as he was another loner who seemingly found a tag team niche with Xero.”

Williams drops a series of brutal elbows to the top of Tod’s skull to drive him down to his knees. Williams skips back and thrust kicks deKindes in the chest to collapse him to the canvas.

Riley: “The Magnificent 7 is all about teamwork and watching each others’ backs. It wouldn’t surprise me if they worked out that whole tag team with Xero and Danny as a ruse to get to the punk.”

Williams lugs deKindes up by his wrist and whips into the far ropes. Danny spins around as Tod dashes back toward him and nails him in the throat with a spinning back elbow! He plummets to the mat and Williams points over at Xero, spitting epitaphs.

Stevens: “Danny has quite a bit to take out on Tod, but hell, he has some stuff to take out on TNT and Frost as well if he was inclined to do so.

Riley: “Danny’s buried the hatchet with Frost and TNT. Hell, TNT was his protégé who betrayed him and Frost helped to nearly end his career by beating on that weak ankle and then he destroyed Frost’s girlfriend in a ironman match…but they’re all peachy now.”

Stevens eyes Riley suspiciously.

Riley: “Ok, I’ve got a page named Woodrow who makes notes for me.”

Xero looks to enter the ring and Hardcastle sprints over to head him off. Frost and TNT make to step in to cheap shot Tod and Ash hollers and points. Sexton scampers over to block them, giving Xero the opportunity to rocket into the ring and clip Danny in his beleaguered ankle! Williams clunks back as the fans cheer and Xero skims to the floor.

Riley: “Oh, the ‘good guys’ never cheat. While Mag7 eats little babies and shoot bunnies for fun.”

Stevens: “Sometimes you have to fight an enemy with its own tactics to get an even keel. Both men are down and desperate for the tag.”

Tod twists around to face his corner and inches along on his hands and knees. Williams tries to stand, but collapses on that tender ankle to his rear. He scoots a few feet back and reach out with his hand, but is still too far to hit the outstretched palms of his stable mates. He scoots a few more feet and reaches back again, still a hair’s breath out of reach as deKindes creeps ever closer.

Stevens: “Both men nearly in their corner…one last ditch effort…TAG TO ASH!”

Riley: “TAG TO FROST!”

Both Ash and Frost charge into the ring, the chilly one lumbering forward with a big boot! Ash ducks the freight train that is Frost’s leg, and twirls around to drive a few quick right hands into Frost’s forehead!

Stevens: “These two have a lot of heat between eachother, in a feud consisting of handcuffs and dead birds that’s been growing in intensity, and the debacle looks like it could reach it’s boiling point right now!”

Ash swings punch after punch at Frost’s face, keeping him on his toes, but the big man blocks a swipe with his hand, coming back with a powerful haymaker! Ash wobbles back a bit, still maintaining his balance, but Frosty capitalizes, nearly decapitating Ketchum with a short clothesline! The crowd grimaces at the stiffness of the move, and Ash, severely stunned, regroups on the mat. Frost cockily struts in circles around his opponent, eventually coming to a halt, and plunging a quick boot to Ash’s midsection in order to keep him down. Frost, his vengeance now finished, paces over to the corner, as he tags in Danny Williams, telling him to “Finish the job.” Deathwish steps through the ropes with an aggressive gleam in his eye, spotting the prone Ash Ketchum, who is just inches away from tagging in Xero! Williams sprints up behind Ash, and grabs him around the waist, improvising a quick German Suplex, which sends Ash away from his corner and onto his head!

Stevens: “Sheer Drop German Suplex! Ash’s head might cave in!”

Riley: “And Danny wastes no time, driving a few quick elbows into Ash’s back, and then lifting him up with another waistlock! He’s going for another German…”

***DING***

Riley: “…ASH JUST KICKED DANNO IN THE BALLS! LOW BLOW! DQ THIS SOULLESS BASTARD!”

Stevens: “It was the only way he could escape Bobby…”

Danny falls back on his behind in testicular agony, as Ash drops to his knees, and with one last ditch effort, dives for his corner!

***SLAP***

Stevens: “XERO!!!”

Riley: “RUN DANNY! THERE’S NOTHING WORSE THAN AN ENRAGED JOBBER!”

Xero rushes in to the now standing Williams, quickly delivering a stiff roundhouse kick to his arm, and forcing him to the ground with an armbar takedown, maneuvering into a…

Stevens: “CROSS ARMBREAKER! HE’S GOT IT ON! DANNY HAS TO TAP!”

Frost and TNT panic, as Thompson drops to the outside, and Frost howls with pain: “MY LEG! MY LEG! REF! I THINK I PULLED SOMETHING!”

Stevens: “What the--…Frost is drawing Sexton’s attention from Danny, who should tap any moment…”

***CRACK***

Stevens: “TNT JUST DESTROYED XERO, SOMEHOW ACQUIRING A BASEBALL BAT, AND CRACKING HIM OVER THE HEAD WITH IT! HE MUST HAVE GOTTEN THE BAT FROM BENEATH THE RING!”

Riley: “Owe! My eyes! I cannot see a thing, for I have somehow spilled scalding coffee into my eyes!”

Stevens: “You saw it as well as I did! You saw TNT ba—“

Riley: “OH FORGIVE ME! I ACCIDENTIALLY UNPLUGGED YOUR HEADSET!”

Stevens screams at Riley, who tosses his headset out of his reach, and continues to call the match. Blood gushes from Xero’s skull, and he releases his hold, allowing Danny to edge over, and drape an arm across his former partner! Frost tells Sexton to go back to the match, and all that the dim-witted referee sees is a dead Xero in the ring, Danny barely pinning him.

ONE!

TWO!

Ash and Tod attempt to run into the ring, but it’s too late…

THREEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!

***DING DING DING***

“Toxicity” starts up, and Frost and TNT storm the ring, holding up Danny’s arms in victory.

Funyon: “The winner of this bout, by pinfall…the MAGNIFICENT SEVEN!”

Riley: “Oh! The beauty of this win is unbelievable, and look at those XF9 losers trying to explain to Sexton Dumbcastle that it wasn’t fair or some bullshit. But viewers, we have witnessed a truly spectacular, and clean win tonight. We’ll be right back, as soon as Marky-Mark finds his headset.”

September 7, 2002

Longdoggah Pete is alone, sitting in a dark room shaking off the effects from his match earlier in the night. With care, he stands up and leaves, heading straight for the Arena exit. Going through the door, he clicks the alarm button on his rental car, the lights on the front flashing in the blackness to show it's position in the lot. Unfortunatly, it also sillouhettes the dark figures standing ten feet in front of it.

(Pete): Alright... I see you there, you can step forward into the light like cliched villains in a bad movie.

Four men walk forward, their faces becoming illuminated in the soft moonlight shining through an open part of the subground parking lot. Taylor Nicholas Thomas, Frost, Deathwish Danny Williams... and Chris Wilson. Each man has a sinister smile on their face.

(WIlson): Peter...

(Pete): Pete

(Wilson): Peter... I think it wouldn't be fitting to cement my place in history in the SWF by shirking a challenge. It just wouldn't be... right. So I decided to take a few friends of mine with me to give you the good news.

(Pete): Accompanied by a sound beating I take it

(Wilson): Merely a formality.Mustn't allow you any unfair advantages you see.

Chris Wilson makes a small motion with his hand... and the other three men begin to advance. Pete steps back, steadying himself to counter the first attack thrown his way.... when a squealing of tires screams in the silent parking lot. A small black sedan speeds towards the group, getting closer and closer to the Mastermind every second. The other three Magnificent Seven members turn to make out where the noise is coming from just in time to see the car spin wildly, making doughnuts and stop just inches in front of Chris Wilson, the car's headlights shining bright in his face. The driver's side door opens, the form somewhat obscured in the light, but the weapon they hold shows clear in sillouhette.

(Person): I told you... NO ONE attacks a Ninter on MY WATCH!

The figure walks forward, swinging her Kendo sword tentatively at the group.

(Wilson): Annie Eclectic. How quaint. It's so cute to see you protecting your sweetie I see.

(Annie): Ha ha, SHUT IT.

(Wilson): I don't think I will actually, in fact you may find youself.. eating your words. You are still outnumbered, and that little stick of yours won't do much.

(Annie): True, a wooden sword doesn't do much against crowds...

The soft sound of a click is heard, as Annie grabs the blade of the wooden sword, and pulls it away, leaving a much smaller, metal blade in it's place.

(Annie): But THIS however.... would. And I reccomend you all back off unless you would like a detachable head.

The M7 gathering back off again, keeping a safe distance from Annie's swinging blade. Soon there are two distinct groups, Wilson with his M7 members, and Annie E and the Longdoggah side by side.

(Pete): Thanks, again I guess.

(Annie): I told you, it would be worth it to trust me.

(Wilson): Annie, let me make it perfectly clear, you will not halt me from doing whatever I please to your beloved leader.

(Annie): I'd like to see you enforce that. Like I said, no one attacks a Niner on my watch.

...

Except me.

(Pete): Wha.... OOF!

A well timed knee gets planted hard into the stomach of the X Force Nine leader. LDP doubles over partly from pain but partly from shock. Annie E locks a standing headscissors on her former stable leader, and underhooks both arms. She leaps high into the air, driving Pete face first into the hard pavement with the Daybreak! Annie stands up, dusting off her trousers and turning towards the shocked TNT, Frost, and Williams.

(Annie): Sorry, I just felt the need to do that. Please, continue the beating boys.

The men still aren't sure what to make of what they just saw until Chris Wilson speaks.

(Wilson): You heard the woman, do your work!

They do as they are told, running over to stomp and kick the XF9 leader. Annie runs towards Wilson, leaping into the air and landing in Wilson's open arms.

(Annie): Next time you have me play the spy girl, can you let me come back faster? I've missed our little meetings!

(Wilson): As did I, but work comes first doesn't it?

Screams of pain are heard from the mass of flesh ten feet away.

(Annie): Shall we celebrate? I saw what could be an excellent restaurant this morning I thought we could try.

(Wilson): Whatever you wish. However, maybe you were a bit melodramatic with the car?

(Annie): Hey, a girl's gotta have fun somewhere!

The couple embrace and watch as the men finish up their attack on Pete. Wilson calls them back, leaving an unconcious bloody mess on the cold concrete. Giggling, Annie walks forward to her ex-stablemate.

(Annie): I told you your trust would pay off. I just neglected to mention who it would pay off for. I'm so sorry but... how would Wilson know how to find and attack Ash without me? How would he know your weaknesses to attack without me? I had to Pete... but don't worry, I'll let XF9 know where you are. Maybe. Say bye to Erek for me too!

Annie blows a kiss at Pete and walks back into the arms of the laughing Wilson. They all walk off, basking in the joy of a job well done......

September 7, 2002

SWF Storm fades back in from its final commercial break of the evening, to reveal the inside of the Air Canada Center, jam-packed with fans of the sign-waving, beer-drinking, Canadian variety. The camera pans for a few seconds, revealing every inch of the stands, before suddenly cutting to Bobby Riley and Mark Stevens, who are sitting behind their announce desk, as always.

Stevens: And welcome back to SWF Storm, ladies and gentlemen! I take pity on your poor soul if you’ve missed the show up to this point, because we’ve put on a hell of a spectacle thus far!

Riley: Damn straight! Not only did we witness a terrific Light Heavyweight Title match between Tom Flesher and Annie Eclectic, but we were also treated to a frantic, fantastic Six-Man Tag!

Stevens: But don’t break down into a fit of self-loathing yet, fans at home, because we’re not finished yet! In tonight’s Main Event, we will see friend competing against friend...

Riley: Carnie against Carnie...

Stevens: And Champion versus former Champion, as Edwin MacPhisto defends his World Heavyweight Title against El Luchadore Magnifico!

Riley: I’ve waited so long for this day to come, and finally, it’s here! Just think, Stevens! We’ve got the best seats in existence to watch the collapse of the Midnight Carnival, once and for all!

Stevens: Shut it, o ye of little faith. Although the World Title may be on the line, the Carnival is stronger than any conflict these two could ever have.

Riley: Blah blah, whatever. You can deny your beloved stable’s fate all you like, but it won’t delay the inevitable.

The shot suddenly focuses on Funyon, standing in the middle of the ring, with a mic ready in his hand. Even his composure is broken, however, when a Mexican voice suddenly comes over the speakers, shouting “UNO! DOS! TRES! CUATRO!” as a burst of pyro explodes from each turnbuckle in conjunction with each shouted word. A sudden roar of approval rises from the stands as “Mission Trip to Mexico” by Bunch of Believers” hits the speakers, signaling the entrance for El Luchadore Magnifico. The man himself bursts out from behind the curtain not a second later, waving his Mexican Flag proudly and sporting a huge grin on his face.

Funyon: The following contest is scheduled for one fall, and it is for the SWF World Heavyweight Title! Introducing first, from Mexico City, Mexico, weighing in at one hundred and ninety pounds...El Luchadooooooorre Magnificooooooo!!

Upon hearing his name, Magnifico quickly makes his way down the ramp, slapping fans’ hands as his Flag ripples majestically in the wind. Once ELM reaches the ring, he slides beneath the bottom rope, pops to his feet, and quickly hops onto the nearby turnbuckle, where the wild flag-waving resumes to massive cheers and many a flashbulb explosion. After several seconds, Magnifico hops back off of the second turnbuckle, hands his flag to the ref, and begins vigorous stretching in the middle of the ring, as he knows the importance of preparation in the upcoming match.

Stevens: I would say that Magnifico lucked out by receiving this shot, but the fact of the matter is that he had to go through Lerrin Breggan and Thoth, who are two of the SWF’s finest, at the last Pay-Per-View to receive this chance.

Riley: Bah, that doesn’t mean a thing! Magnifico hasn’t even been decent since Thugg made him his bitch a good 9 months ago.

Magnifico bounces around on the balls of his feet, anxious to get things started, as the fans murmur excitedly. Suddenly, the house lights drop out as the hovering, haunting beginning of “Battleflag” by the Lo-Fidelity All-Stars starts to float through the arena. The SmarkTron fires up, providing the only source of illumination in the form of grey silhouettes fading in and out, silhouettes of a man with his arms outstretched, a man holding a microphone, and a man leaning on a lamppost. A light beat drops in, and the voice of Edwin MacPhisto rises up from the back as he cuts his trademark pre-match promo, taunt, or wisecrack.

Edwin: Step right up, ladies and gentlemen, because the Mac Daddy and the Kooky Luchadore are here to rock your world!! Do not just adjust your sets, do not change the channel, and you sure as hell better not get up for nachos, lest you miss the COMPLETELY LEGAL immigrants of the Carnival tangle for the Title!

The music swells to a thick, bumping human beatbox beneath Edwin’s words, and a pair of blue spotlights begin to swing back and forth across the entrance way, moving like pendulums in sync with the beat. As Edwin finishes his speech, the music makes its final swell and the spotlights break off their pendulous paths and spiral out into the arena, completely symmetrical in their ripping arc until they come back to the entrance stage and meet, a stuttering drumbeat echoing as they collide and send forth a wall of sudden purple strobe lights. The vocals of “Battleflag” drop in, and streaks of red and gold pyro erupt from the entrance ramp, prompting red and gold disco lights to whirl around the arena as the SmarkTron shows highlights from Edwin’s career. The man himself steps out into the spectacle, drawing a deafening pop from the crowd as the light reflects off of his big shiny World Championship.

Funyon: And now, from Amsterdam, England, weighing in at two hundred and thirty-nine pounds, he is the SWF Worrrrld Heavyweight Champion...Edwin, MacPhistoooooooo!!

Edwin absorbs the audience’s applause, and then makes his way down to the ring, while Magnifico watches him intently, a serious look suddenly appearing on his face. Upon reaching the ring, Edwin removes his coat, tosses it over the top rope, and slides under the bottom rope to catch it on the other side. MacPhisto pops to his feet and thrusts the coat at the ref while looking straight ahead at Magnifico, returning the luchadore’s stare with one of his own. The ref looks between the two for a second, wondering what the hell they’re staring at, before signaling for the bell.

DING DING DING

Riley: What did I tell you? There’s nothing but pure hate between these two, and they’re going to rip each other apart!

Stevens: Admittedly, both Edwin and Magnifico seem unusually serious, but it’s certainly not hate-

Riley: Pure rage and envy! There’s no stopping the blood tonight, folks!

Edwin and Magnifico continue their stare-off as the sea of humanity surrounding them begins clapping in unison, exhibiting a mixture of impatience and excitement as they clap louder and faster with each passing second. Slowly but surely, the two Carnie approach each other, Magnifico with his hands on his hips, and Edwin with his behind his head. Once the two are within arm’s range of each other, when the clapping is at its loudest, both men whip their arms out and.....shake hands, converting the clapping to a loud pop as mischievous grins come over Magnifico’s and Edwin’s faces. After a good vigorous shake, ELM and MacPhisto separate, back off from each other, and begin circling around the ring, psyching themselves up for the upcoming contest.

Stevens: Rage and hate, huh?

Riley: Er, yeah! Did you see how violently those two went at each other’s arm?? Nasty stuff!

As Edwin and ELM circle, they slowly get closer and closer to each other, until they are once again near the center of the ring. Acting almost simultaneously, Magnifico and Edwin lunge towards each other, as they lock up and begin pushing each other back and forth in the middle of the ring. Within seconds, Edwin takes control, as he pulls ELM into a Side Headlock and begins wrenching away at his neck. Magnifico takes the abuse for a bit, then pushes violently at Edwin’s back, breaking the hold as he sends MacPhisto running forward towards the ropes. As MacPhisto bounces off of the ropes, ELM rushes towards him and suddenly hits the ground right in front of him, forcing Edwin to leap over the luchadore. Once Edwin lands back on the mat, he continues running, heading towards the far ropes as Magnifico pops to his feet and steps into the center of the ring. MacPhisto bounces off of the ropes and rushes back towards ELM, and as he approaches, the luchadore leaps into the air and extends his legs, looking to catch Edwin with a Hurricanrana! However, Edwin manages to duck just beneath Mag’s legs, before skidding to a halt right behind the luchadore as he lands on his feet. As soon as ELM lands, MacPhisto spins around and lashes out with his leg, aiming directly at the back of Magnifico’s head with a violently fast Hook Kick! As if acting on instinct, Magnifico ducks just in time, as Edwin’s leg WOOSH!es over his head harmlessly. But right after ELM ducks, he suddenly whips his leg out in a circular fashion, looking to trip Edwin up with a Sweep Kick! However, MacPhisto’s leg returns to him just in time, as he is able to hop over Magnifico’s leg right before impact! ELM pops to his feet and spins to face Edwin as MacPhisto lands on the canvas, both men quickly assuming ready positions, prepared for whatever the other might throw at them. The fans release a small pop as both men begin circling each other again, the grins returning to their faces.

Stevens: Duck! Avoid! Counter! Edwin and Magnifico display their knowledge of each other’s attacks, as they duel back and forth in the ring!

Riley: Wow, you’re even gushing when they don’t hit each other. I hope you have a doctor nearby for the spasm of joy you’ll get when one of ‘em land a Suplex or something.

After a little more circling, both men end up back in the center of the ring, and once again lock up with each other. Once again, Edwin takes control, this time spinning around to Magnifico’s back and capturing him in a Rear Waistlock. Almost immediately after applying the Waistlock, MacPhisto sticks his head beneath ELM’s arm and lifts him into the air, looking to slam the luchadore into the mat with a Back Body Drop! However, Magnifico manages to escape Edwin’s grasp, flipping backwards in mid-air and landing on his feet right behind MacPhisto! Before Edwin can even spin around to face Magnifico, the luchadore drops to his knees, grabs MacPhisto from the back of his leg, and suddenly pulls him downwards, pinning Edwin to the mat with a School Boy Rollup! The ref slides into position and begins counting as a surprised mixed reaction rises from the crowd...

ONE...

TW-No! Edwin escapes the School Boy before the ref can even count to two, rolling backwards and popping to his feet as Magnifico does the same. As soon as MacPhisto is on his feet, he charges at the luchadore, lashing out with his arm for a Clothesline! However, ELM ducks beneath Edwin’s appendage and spins around to face MacPhisto as the Mac Daddy does the same. As soon as Mag and Edwin are facing each other, ELM throws his foot out, looking to land a boot to the gut, only to have MacPhisto catch it with one hand in mid-air! Edwin grins and wags his finger disapprovingly at Magnifico, and the luchadore responds by hopping up with his free foot and lashing out with it, slamming his boot into the side of Edwin’s face with an Enziguri! MacPhsito immediately drops ELM’s foot as he stumbles to one side, holding his head in pain as Magnifico pops to his feet. Edwin ends up stumbling into the ropes, where ELM catches up with him, grabbing MacPhisto by the arm and attempting a whip. However, Edwin manages to reverse it, sending Magnifico rushing towards the far ropes. ELM bounces off and runs back towards Edwin, and as he approaches, MacPhisto suddenly thrusts his palm forward, slamming it directly into Magnifico’s chest with a Shotei and sending him stumbling backwards from the impact!

Stevens: Oweee! Edwin’s Shotei certainly carries a great impact, and most of the time it’s moving too fast for anyone to avoid it!

Riley: Please, it’s nothing but an over-glorified bitchslap to the chest. I’m surprised Edwin’s opponents are willing to sell so dramatically for it.

As ELM grasps his chest and tries to slow down his backwards stumbling, Edwin quickly comes upon him and immediately begins chipping away at the luchadore’s legs and knees, repeatedly hitting them with a series of quick Snap Kicks! After landing about ten or so, Edwin delivers one final kick to the gut, doubling Magnifico over and allowing MacPhsito to lock him into a Suplex position! After pausing for a second, Edwin suddenly lifts Magnifico straight up into the air and perpendicular to the mat, before starting to spin around, apparently setting ELM up for the Corkscrew Brainbuster! But as Edwin spins, Magnifico wriggles out of his grip, landing on the mat as MacPhisto turns to face him! Before Edwin has a chance to go back on the attack, ELM suddenly drives his arm forward, smacking it sideways into MacPhisto’s chest with a Knife-Edge Chop! The fans WHOOO! obediently, and do so again once ELM lands another Chop! WHOOO! With Edwin stunned somewhat by the force of the blows, Magnifico is able to grab him by the arm and whip MacPhisto across the ring, sending him rushing towards the far ropes. As Edwin approaches, Magnifico trips him by grabbing MacPhisto’s ankles with his feet, sending the Mac Daddy falling to the mat, face-first! As Edwin falls, Magnifico shoots his hands out and tries to wrap them around his opponent’s face, but before he can do so, MacPhisto suddenly throws his hands up in defense, blocking ELM’s attempt at the Sangria Stretch! Magnifico pulls back anyway, thinking he can do at least a little damage, as Edwin keeps up his defenses. After a few seconds, the frustrated luchadore finally releases MacPhisto, rolling away from him and to his feet as Edwin begins pushing himself to his feet.

Stevens: Damn, two close calls right off of the bat! Edwin nearly drills Magnifico into the mat with a Corkscrew Brainbuster, only to barely avoid a Sangria Stretch a minute later!

Riley: Man, these guys can’t even hit their signature moves correctly! What the hell are they doing here?

Magnifico’s getting to his feet first gives him time to head over to Edwin, delivering a few stomps to his back as MacPhisto tries to get up. Just as Edwin is about to stand, ELM grabs him by the arm and jerks MacPhisto to his feet, before whipping him across the ring and towards the far corner. As Edwin crashes into the turnbuckles, back-first, Magnifico suddenly breaks into a full sprint, charging across the ring directly at his opponent! But right before impact is to take place, ELM suddenly does a front flip forward, grabbing Edwin around the head with his legs as he does so! Magnifico then proceeds to pull himself up with his legs, apparently looking to Hurricanrana Edwin out of the corner...but his plans are suddenly thwarted when MacPhisto grabs ELM by the waist, holding the luchadore tightly and keeping him on his shoulders! Slightly panicked, Magnifico begins bashing away at Edwin’s skull, landing numerous punches all over MacPhisto’s face! The Mac Daddy is dazed enough by this sudden assault to delay any attack he had planned, giving Magnifico a chance to yank backwards with his legs while falling back, pulling Edwin violently down to the mat with a Hurricanrana! But on the way down, Magnifico manages to grab Edwin’s legs, and instead turns the move into a Hurricanrana Pin as Edwin’s shoulders are pressed against the mat! Another burst of indecisiveness rises from the crowd as the ref slides into position and begins counting, his hand slapping the mat as Edwin struggles wildly to escape...

ONE...

TWO...MacPhisto suddenly jerks his legs forward, pulling Magnifico down to the mat and pinning his shoulders down! At the same time, Edwin sits up, reversing ELM’s pin into one of his own! The ref hastily restarts his count as Magnifico kicks his legs madly and tries to escape...

ONE...

TWO...No! Magnifico escapes, rolling away from MacPhisto and popping to his feet while Edwin quickly stands up. ELM manages to get up a half-second sooner, however, allowing him to quickly leap into the air and kick his feet out as Edwin stands, looking to connect with a Flipping Dropkick! Moving just as quickly, MacPhisto throws his hands up and bats away ELM’s feet, avoiding the impact! As Magnifico falls unceremoniously to the mat, Edwin turns and suddenly charges towards the ropes behind him, bouncing off and coming back towards ELM as the luchadore stands back up. As MacPhisto approaches, he leaps into the air and kicks out his feet much like Magnifico did a second ago, hoping to land a Running Dropkick! However, the results are different this time, as MacPhisto’s feet fly right into ELM’s face, quickly knocking him to the ground as a wave of cheers flow in from the stands.

Stevens: Bad spot of luck for Magnifico, as his Dropkick is blocked right before Edwin smacks him with one of his own!

Riley: Yeah, it’s like irony. Or something. Can I get a friggin’ refill over here, please?

Stevens: Dammit Riley, how the hell did you get this job? All you do is mock the wrestlers and hassle vendors for their beer.

Riley: I have...connections with someone in upper management. Let’s just leave it at that.

Stevens: Lovely.

MacPhisto immediately pops back to his feet as Magnifico begins scrambling to his, only to have Edwin grab him by the arm on the way up and jerk him to his feet. Once ELM is standing, MacPhisto puts his palm in front of him, before thrusting it forward, driving his hand directly into Magnifico’s chest with a stiff Shotei! MacPhisto then proceeds to bash ELM’s chest with two more Shoteis, drawing a loud pop from the crowd, and drawing an even louder one as he thrusts his pelvis forward thrice in the direction of the dazed luchadore! The pelvic thrusting complete, Edwin rears back with his palm, looking to land one last, powerful, Shotei! But as MacPhisto drives his palm forward with frightening force, ELM suddenly steps to one side, grabbing Edwin’s arm as it passes by the luchadore! Moving quickly, Magnifico spins around, locking MacPhisto’s arm in a Chicken Wing, before reaching up and grabbing Edwin by the head, setting him up for Montezuma’s Revenge! Before MacPhisto has a chance to wriggle out of the hold, ELM suddenly falls to his knees, bringing Edwin’s head downwards and slamming it into his shoulder with Montezuma’s Revenge! MacPhisto practically springs backwards from the impact and falls back-first to the mat as the fans release another burst of cheers and boos. Magnifico quickly crawls over to Edwin and covers him for the pin, hooking the leg as the ref slides into position...

ONE...

TWO...No! Edwin kicks out at two and a half, to the overwhelming delight of the crowd.

Stevens: Nice! Edwin batters Magnifico with a series of Shotei, but ELM manages to dodge the final blow and unleash Montezuma’s Revenge!

Riley: Is that supposed to MEAN something? Montezuma was just some crappy latino dictator who got beat up by the superior conqistadors!

ELM rolls off of Edwin after he kicks out, popping to his feet as MacPhisto begins struggling upwards. But before MacPhisto can get up under his own power, Magnifico grabs him by the arm and jerks him to his feet, then grabs Edwin by his waist and begins running towards the nearest ropes, Edwin in tow! Once ELM reaches the ropes, he uses all of his might to heave Edwin forward, tossing him through the ropes and sending him soaring to the outside! The fans OHHH! in unison and begin to boo as MacPhisto lands face first on the cold floor with a sickening THUD! Back in the ring, Magnifico heads over to a nearby corner and leans up against it, taking a quick breather as the ref begins to count Edwin out. After resting for a second or two, ELM begins climbing up the corner’s turnbuckles, quickly reaching the top rope as Edwin begins struggling to his feet on the outside. Magnifico remains perched on the top turnbuckle, running his hands through his hair and impatiently waiting for Edwin to get up. Finally, MacPhisto practically lunges upwards, standing up and facing away from the luchadore as the ref reaches two in his count. Despite the mushed-together warnings and shouts of the collective fans, MacPhisto slowly turns around to see Magnifico perched a good ten feet above him, staring down anxiously at Edwin! Suddenly, ELM leaps off of the top rope, flying directly at Edwin like a human missile! But as Magnifico approaches, MacPhisto jumps into the air.....spins around....and lashes out with his foot, slamming it into the side of the luchadore’s head in mid-air with a Gamengiri!! The fans OOOOH! in shock before popping in appreciation, as Magnifico falls unceremoniously to the floor, cradling his head in pain! MacPhisto drops to one knee after shooting ELM out of the sky, breathing hard as the ref reaches four.

Stevens: Sweet sassy molassey! Edwin just NAILED Magnifico in mid-air with a Gamengiri! What agility! What timing!

Riley: Sweet sassy molassey?! Good lord, man, where is your journalistic integrity??

Stevens: Eh, beats saying “Good God almighty!” every time.

Riley: Hmm, point taken.

After a second or two, MacPhisto rises back to his feet, heads towards the ring, and rolls in beneath the bottom rope. As Edwin stands, Magnifico begins struggling to his feet on the outside, keeping one hand on his head as the ref reaches six. Slowly, painfully, ELM pushes himself to one knee, then struggles up to his feet just as the ref shouts eight. As the crowd cheers his resilience, Magnifico heads over to the apron and climbs onto it, stopping the count at nine. But as soon as he climbs up, ELM realizes that Edwin is standing right in front of him, having been waiting for the luchadore to get back to the ring! MacPhisto suddenly swings out with his arm, aiming it directly at Magnifico’s head! However, ELM manages to duck the blow, and as he’s bent over, the luchadore thrusts his head through the ropes, slamming it into Edwin’s gut! MacPhisto immediately doubles over, clutching his gut as Magnifico returns to a standing position and grabs the top rope. With Edwin still bent over, ELM leans back on the apron, before using the ropes to leap/pull himself into the ring, grazing MacPhisto’s back as he grabs his legs and flips forward, attempting a Sunset Flip! However, Edwin thrusts his hands out and grabs the top rope mid-Sunset Flip, blocking the Roll-Up! Magnifico pulls with all his might, but MacPhisto’s grip on the rope is too strong! Suddenly, Edwin jumps into the air while pulling on the top rope, breaking free of ELM’s grip as he floats over the top rope and lands on the apron! Muttering softly to himself, Magnifico pops to his feet and turns towards Edwin, who greets the luchadore by grabbing him around the head and leaping off of the apron! MacPhisto’s descent pulls ELM’s neck violently into the top rope with a Hangman, a loud mixed reaction rising form the crowd as Magnifico springs backwards and falls to the mat, holding his throat and gasping for breath. Edwin hops back up onto the apron almost immediately after hitting the ground, grabbing the top rope once more as ELM lies face-up on the mat. MacPhisto rears back much like ELM did a minute ago, before pulling himself over the top rope and extending his legs, driving one of them into Magnifico’s neck as he falls with a Slingshot Leg Drop! As Magnifico begins choking for breath, Edwin throws himself on top of the him for the pin, hooking the leg to mostly cheers as the ref slides into position and begins counting...

ONE...

TWO...No! Magnifico gets a shoulder up at two and a half, breaking the count.

Stevens: Magnifico and Edwin tussle near the ropes, resulting in MacPhisto landing a Hangman-slash-Slingshot Leg Drop combo!

Riley: Hah, ELM looked like he was turning blue, just like his stupid flag!

Stevens: Um, the Mexican Flag doesn’t have any blue on it.

Riley: Erm, yeah it does! Magnifico just brought the wrong flag down! What an idiot!

Edwin rolls off of Magnifico and quickly rises to his feet, then grabs ELM by the arm and slowly pulls him upwards as the luchadore still struggles to breathe. Using his grip, MacPhisto then whips Magnifico towards the far ropes, before stepping into the center of the ring. ELM bounces off of the ropes and rushes back towards Edwin, and as he approaches, MacPhisto grabs him around the waist and lifts the luchadore into the air, setting him up for the Love Rollercoaster! But as Edwin is lifting, Magnifico draws his hands out before clapping them together, slamming his palms into both sides of MacPhisto’s face with a Bell Clap! Edwin immediately drops the luchadore and attends to the sudden ringing in his ears, sticking his fingers in his earholes as Magnifico lands on the mat. ELM grabs one of MacPhisto’s arms as soon as he lands, using his grip to whip Edwin towards the far ropes. MacPhisto bounces off and rushes back towards ELM, and as he approaches, the luchadore bends down, apparently looking to land a Back Body Drop! But before Mag has the chance, Edwin suddenly hits the mat, sliding feet-first into a laying position in front of the luchadore! From there, MacPhisto kips up at blinding speed, grabbing ELM in a Front Face Lock as he does so, and then quickly falls back down to the mat, planting the luchadore’s head into the canvas with a Kip Up DDT! The crowd roars at the sight of such a flashy move as Edwin floats onto Magnifico for the pin, hooking the leg as the ref slides into position...

ONE...

TWO...

TH-Noo! Magnifico gets a shoulder up right before three, drawing a few OHHH!s from the audience.

Stevens: Whoa! Magnifico manages to get off the Love Rollercoaster, but falls victim to a Kip-Up DDT that nearly takes him out!

Riley: Kippup to get up, yo! I don’t usually like flashy crap like that, but it certainly is amazing how fast Edwin managed to pull off that move.

Looking a bit miffed at this point, MacPhisto rolls off of Magnifico once more, leaving the luchadore laying lifelessly on the canvas as he rises to his feet. Edwin stands above ELM for a second, hands on his hips and breathing deeply, before he suddenly breaks towards the nearest corner. The fans begin to cheer in wild anticipation as Edwin begins climbing up the turnbuckles, apparently looking to finish Magnifico off with a rare aerial maneuver! MacPhisto quickly reaches the top rope, standing up on its turnbuckle and facing towards the crowd. However, unbeknownst to Edwin, Magnifico has been pushing himself to his feet as MacPhisto was climbing, and is now on his feet as Edwin balances himself on the top rope! As soon as ELM sees Edwin, he charges towards him, reaches upwards with interlocked fists, and brings them downwards into MacPhisto’s back! Edwin’s mouth gapes open in pain as puts a hand on his back, buying Magnifico a little time. As Edwin is recovering from the blow, ELM steps a foot or two to the right side of his opponent, and grabs the top rope, before jumping/pulling himself onto said rope! Magnifico then bounces off and flies towards Edwin, hooking his legs around MacPhisto’s head from behind in mid-air!! ELM jerks his legs backwards, yanking MacPhisto off of the top rope and throwing him to the mat with a Springboard Dragonrana!! The fans pop in surprise as Edwin lies falls face-first onto the mat, joined by the falling luchadore a second later.

Stevens: Oh my God! I can’t believe Magnifico just did that! ELM just jerked Edwin off of the corner and threw him to the mat with a Springboard Dragonrana!

Riley: How the hell did he do that? It must all be smoke and mirrors!

Magnifico scrambles over to Edwin as soon as he lands, grabbing MacPhisto by the shoulder and turning him onto his shoulders before draping himself over the Brit for the cover. Another mixture of cheering and booing floars in from the stands as the ref slides into position and begins counting...

ONE...

TWO...

TH-Noo! Edwin gets a shoulder up at two and a half, drawing some cheers, boos, and OOOH!s from the audience. Somewhat frustrated, Magnifico slowly rolls off of Edwin and struggles to his feet, collapsing against the ropes as he stands. ELM rests there for a moment, his chest heaving up and down as MacPhisto lays motionless, face-up on the mat. Finally, Magnifico pushes himself off of the ropes and heads towards the nearest corner, where he begins climbing the turnbuckles, drawing an anticipatory pop from the crowd.

Stevens: Where Edwin failed, Magnifico may succeed! It looks like he’s going up to take MacPhisto down!

Riley: How very clever. And you question how I got this job.

Stevens: At least I call the goddamn match, fruitcake.

Stevens: Screw you!

As Stevens and Riley bicker mindlessly, Magnifico reaches the top rope, standing up straight on the top turnbuckle and turning away from the crowd as he does so. ELM takes a second to balance himself, before turning towards his Mexican Flag, saluting it proudly as the fans cheer even louder in anticipation! Suddenly, Magnifico leaps off of the top rope, flipping backwards in mid-air and crashing towards MacPhisto with a Mexican Pride Press!! Thousands of flashbulb explosions light up the inside of the arena as Edwin rolls out of the way just in time, leaving ELM to collide with the mat chest-first! The ring shudders from the luchadore’s impact, but the noise that it makes is quickly drowned out by the wave of cheers and boos pouring in from the fans.

Stevens: No! No! Magnifico was this close to hitting the Mexican Pride Press, but Edwin somehow managed to avoid the luchadore’s aerial finisher!

ELM rolls onto his stomach, withdrawing into a quasi-fetal position from the pain to his chest, as Edwin lies face-down on the mat, motionless for the moment. After a second or two, the ref begins counting both men out, shouting “ONE!” and throwing a finger into the air as the fans begin cheering to get Edwin and Mag on their feet.

TWO...

THREE...Edwin begins pushing himself to his feet...

FOUR...

FIVE...Edwin reaches one knee as Magnifico starts struggling to his feet as well...

SIX...

SEVEN...MacPhisto slowly stands, stumbling backwards into the ropes as he does so! Meanwhile, Magnifico reaches one knee, his head bowed and his hand on the mat.

EIGHT...Magnifico finally pushes himself to his feet with one great boost, avoiding the count-out to the great pleasure of the fans! But as soon as ELM stands, Edwin immediately comes upon him, approaching the luchadore quickly and giving him a stiff boot straight to the gut! Magnifico doubles over and grasps his stomach in pain, allowing MacPhisto to step to his left side, facing the same direction as ELM. From there, he wraps his right arm around Magnifico’s face, his left around Magnifico’s left arm, and his right foor around ELM’s left ankle, setting him up for the Dragon Sleeper Russian Legsweep! Without hesitation, MacPhisto drops backwards to the mat, slamming ELM into the canvas with the Legsweep!

Stevens: Dragon Sleeper Legsweep to the luchadore! Magnifico better remain on his toes, however, because Edwin is sure to follow this up with an attempt at the Union Jack!

Riley: Screw that! ELM, just let Edwin do whatever the hell he wants so we can get outta here! I’m sure that having your neck smashed into tiny bits isn’t that bad!

Magnifico instinctively arches his back in pain as he lies face-up on the mat, currently oblivious to the cheers and boos pouring in from the crowd. Edwin remains on the ground for a second, breathing heavily, before he slowly pushes himself back to his feet, almost losing his balance as he stands. As soon as he’s on his feet, MacPhisto grabs the luchadore by the arm and slowly pulls him to his feet, the limp luchadore offering little resistance. As soon as ELM is standing, Edwin spins him around so that their backs are facing, before bending down and reaching backwards, hooking his hands beneath Magnifico’s arms! MacPhisto then thrusts ELM over his shoulder as he stands up, putting the luchadore into position for the Union Jack!!

Stevens: What did I tell ya? Edwin is looking to finish this off right here and now with the Union Jack! Magnifico better wake the hell up if he wants any chance to win this match!

The fans are at their loudest now, most of them cheering as spins around, ELM laying lifeless on his shoulder! Finally, MacPhisto begins taking his running steps, ready to crush Magnifico into the mat...when ELM suddenly breaks his arms free of Edwin’s grip, sliding off of his shoulder and landing on his feet behind MacPhisto! The very second he’s on the mat, Magnifico reaches back and hooks Edwin’s arms as if for a Backslide, beginning the Baja California Crusher to the crowd’s shock and partial delight! ELM starts running towards the nearest corner...but can’t, as Edwin hooks his foot around Magnifico’s leg, preventing him from going anywhere! ELM tries to run again, but MacPhisto blocks it once more, before breaking his arms free of Magnifico’s grip! Once Edwin gets his arms back, he immediately spins around and hooks them around ELM’s head in a ¾ Facelock! With Magnifico in tow, MacPhisto begins running towards the nearest corner, scaling up the turnbuckles as he does so! Once Edwin has his feet on the top turnbuckle, he pushes off backwards and spins around in mid-air, before falling on his ass in front of Magnifico, slamming the luchadore’s chin into his shoulder with the Spinal Tap!! ELM springs backwards off of MacPhisto’s shoulder, falling unceremoniously to the mat as the fans, now worked up to a fever pitch, begin to cheer like crazy. Immediately after landing the move, Edwin collapses onto the canvas, laying face-down on the mat only a few feet away from Magnifico.

Stevens: Spinal Tap!! Spinal Tap!! Magnifico reverses the Union Jack into a Baja California Crusher, only to have THAT reversed into the Spinal Tap!

Riley: And like the moron he is, Edwin’s not even taking advantage of the situation! C’mon MacPhisto, get your lazy ass over there for the pin already!

The fans somehow manage to keep up their volume for several seconds as both men lay motionless on the mat, only one or two feet separating them. Finally, Edwin somehow gets the fans to cheer even louder, as he claws at the mat and begins crawling towards the luchadore! MacPhisto slowly struggles over to the luchadore, who’s lying motionless on his back....and drapes himself onto Magnifico’s body, covering him for the pin! Assured that the match is over, the crowd becomes deafening in its noise, as the ref slides into position and begins counting...

ONE...

TWO...

THRE-Noooo!! Magnifico gets a shoulder up mere milliseconds before the ref’s hand hits the mat, drawing an incredible OHHHH!! from the shocked crowd!!

Stevens: Oh my God!! ELM kicked out of the Spinal Tap! He’s stil in it!

Riley: Don’t you assholes know when to quit?? Jesus!

Edwin slowly rolls off of Magnifico and lays face-up on the mat, staring blankly at the lights above as his chest heaves up and down. After a few seconds of motionlessness, MacPhisto laboriously rolls onto his stomach, before starting to push himself to his feet. But as Edwin rises, a loud roar suddenly erupts from the crowd, as every fan in the arena begins to boo! The viewers at home are confused as to what’s going on, until the shot swings up to the entrance ramp, showing Chris Raynor barreling towards the ring at a full sprint!

Stevens: Dammit, not now Raynor! Don’t ruin this for Magnifico and Edwin, not after what they did to each other in this match!

Apparently not hearing Stevens’ plea, Raynor continues running until he reaches the ring, at which point he slides beneath the bottom rope, popping to his feet behind Edwin, who is just reaching his feet. MacPhisto slowly turns around, oblivious to Chris’s presence, and comes face-to-face with the former Carnie, who suddenly charge directly at Edwin! As Raynor approaches Edwin, he throws his foot into the air, looking to connect with a Big Boot! However, MacPhisto manages to duck beneath Raynor’s foot, spinning around to face the traitor as Chris spins to face Edwin! The very second that MacPhisto is in front of Raynor is the moment he thrusts his palm out, slamming it into Chris’ chest with a Shotei! The fans start to go ballistic as Edwin uses every last bit of his energy to pummel Raynor with several palm strikes, backing him up into the ropes! With Chris dazed and leaning against the ropes, Edwin takes a few steps back….before sidestepping forward, throwing his foot into the air and slamming it into Chris’s chin with a Springing Sidekick! The fans release another deafening pop as Raynor is knocked over the top rope and crashes to the outside, creating a sickening THUD! as he lands!

Riley: What the hell was that for, Edwin?! Raynor didn’t do anything to you!

Stevens: You mean besides turning on him and trying to take his head off just now?

Riley: Yeah! I mean, shut up!

Edwin pumps his fist into the air and shouts at Raynor, caught up in the adrenaline of the moment…when his arms are suddenly hooked from behind by Magnifico. ELM, who managed to get to his feet during Edwin’s attack on Raynor, suddenly breaks for the nearest corner with MacPhisto in tow, and begins running up the turnbuckles as he reaches it! Once Magnifico reaches the top turnbuckle, he springs backwards off of it, backflipping over Edwin’s head and landing on his knees, slamming MacPhisto’s skull into the canvas with a Baja California Crusher! This time, the reaction is almost entirely boos, as Edwin lays face-down on the mat, with ELM barely managing to stay on his knees above him.

Stevens: Holy crap! Magnifico got back to his feet as Raynor tried to disrupt the match, giving him the opportunity to take Edwin completely by surprise with a Baja California Crusher!

Riley: Yee hah, match over!

Magnifico remains on his knees for a few seconds, ignoring the boos of the crowd, before he grabs Edwin by his shoulder and slowly turns him onto his back. But instead of covering him, ELM then grabs MacPhisto’s legs and twists his body so that he is parallel to the nearby corner! MacPhisto remains motionless on the mat, his eyes closed, as Magnifico painfully struggles to his feet, almost collapsing the moment he stands. ELM heads over to the nearby corner and begins to slowly climb it, the boos growing louder and louder the higher he gets.

Stevens: The fans are completely lambasting Magnifico for taking advantage of Edwin’s distraction! And it doesn’t look like ELM is done yet!

Finally, Magnifico reaches the top rope, standing straight up on the top turnbuckle as he does so. ELM carefully turns away from the fans, nearly losing his balance as he does so, and looks down on Edwin, who still hasn’t moved an inch. Suddenly, Magnifico turns towards his Mexican Flag and proudly salutes it, before leaping off of the top turnbuckle! ELM flips backwards in mid-air as he crashes towards Edwin, looking to land the Mexican Pride Press!! Thousands of cameras forever capture the scene of Magnifico slamming himself directly into MacPhisto’s gut, landing his aerial finisher with amazing precision! ELM practically bounces off of MacPhisto, laying motionless right next to him as the crowd goes ballistic.

Stevens: Baja California Crusher and Mexican Pride Press!! Will Edwin be able to escape?!

Riley: No!

Stevens: Yes!

After a few seconds of no movement from either man, Magnifico slowly lifts up his arm and lets it drop….onto Edwin’s chest. The ref slides into position and begins counting, as the fans become impossibly loud…

ONE…

TWO…

THREEEE!! The ref springs to his feet and signals for the bell, which is almost drowned out by the resulting crowd noise!!

DING DING DING

Funyon: Your winner, and the NEW, SWF World Heavyweight Champion….El Luchadooooooooorre Magnificooooooooooo!!

Stevens: Oh my God!! New champ! New champ! Magnifico has triumphed over the Carnival’s leader, and has become a two-time World Champion!!

Riley: And you know what that means; bye-bye Carnival! These two could never keep a stable together after what happened tonight!

Stevens: I hate to admit it, but you might be right, Riley. Magnifico purposely took advantage of Edwin to win the Title!

The ref slides out of the ring and retrieves the title, before sliding back in, popping to his feet, and heading over to ELM. He grabs the luchadore by the arm and tries to help him to his feet, but it becomes apparent to him that Magnifico is not getting up anytime soon. Instead, he lays the belt over ELM’s chest, drawing further outrage from the fans.

Stevens: It’s been a historic night, folks, but we’re out of time! Tune into Smarkdown! G’night!

The final image broadcasted before the show fades to black is El Luchadore Magnifico, World Title laid across his chest, with Edwin laying next to him, oblivious to what has happened…

September 7, 2002

Summary

- The show kicks off with hometown kid, Tod deKindes wandering around. Now that’s good television. He meets up with Ash and then blows him off to go looking for Flesher. Ooodles of fun.

- The Card looks stellar…but wait…it looks like a match is missing. Oh, that’s right…that match was taken out because of…ummmm…let’s just say there was some loving of the cock involved.

- Where is Waldo?? Where are the matches? Promos up the wazoo! Oh, and deKindes is STILL looking for Flesher, although, Sarah manages to make her way into this scene and talk Tod out of decapitating poor Flesher.

- Jay Dawg talks shit…so what else is new. And we’re still without a match…the Smarks are ripping this show a new one.

- LDP wants another shot at Wilson…surprise, surprise. Wilson’s his usually dicky self, playing the mind games and such. But, as usual, he’s got coverage as Chilly Chilly Bang Bang come out to protect the ICTV champ. Oh, but wait…here comes the hardcore queen to save LDP from his impending doom.

Mercury vs. Chris Raynor

- BAH GAWD! It’s a match! This show has wrestling on it! A superplex countered into another superplex goes terribly wrong and Raynor picks up the win. For shame.

- What? Thoth wants a Gauntlet match?!? Ok…I guess…NO! But wait! Silent comes in jabbering about a match that didn’t happen! And now the match for Smarkdown has changed! Oh the humanity.

- And the Saviour was…………………DIVEFIRE! Whoa, that’s crazy. Now only if we could have found this out DURING THE ANGLE! But I digress…there seems to be something a-brewin’ with Outcast and Divefire, as they bring back some old stories to tell all the youngsters in the SWF. Days of walking barefoot in the snow…for 323424 miles just to go to the next event. Days of using a flat wooden board instead of a wrestling ring. Suddenly, this reporter is having Flair/Hogan flashbacks…well, the two ancient wonders babble it out for a while, but really don’t reach much of a conclusion. Could they, perhaps, be setting something up?

Annie Eclectic vs. Tom Flesher

- And, all time deKindes has been looking for Flesher…he should have just waited until the bastard had to come out for a match. Annie no sells the Boilermaker, but succumbs to the Unprettier.

- Old tricks never die. deKindes busts up Flesher’s car…and Flesher is less than pleased.

Divefire/Bo vs. Wilson/Strangler

- Bo manages to gain superhuman strength and bench presses TBS, tossing him right into a DVD Bomb. Wilson, being the wonderful human being that he is…leaves TBS to be pinned.

- There’s some cock-lovin’ going down.

Xero & XF9 vs. M7

- Somehow, a baseball bat gets involved in this, and costs the good guys a win here.

- Oh…now that was fuckin’ sweet! Mark out moment of the show so far, and the swerve worked to a “T”. Don’t know what I’m talking about?? Read the show and find out homos!

ELM vs. Edwin

- No offense to Edwin, but this is probably one of the happiest moments since I’ve been here. ELM shows everyone that patience and consistency pays off in the end, and he does the unthinkable…and defeats Edwin to becomes 2 TIME SWF WORLD HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPION!!! Allow me to digress for just a moment to say how happy I am for ELM. He works hard every show and never complains about anything…even when he gets held down by a certain Kliq and their big fat black man. Everyone should take note that you don’t have to weasel your way into what you want…ELM waited until it was his time, and it paid off! Well done my Mexican friend…well done. BUT! You could have done that like 3 weeks ago…Before Edwin broke my record. Oh well, since ELM has never beaten me in like 2343242 tries…now seems like a good time to return and take back my title. Hee hee…J/K! Congrats to the new SWF World Champion…EL LUCHADORE MAGNIFICO!!!

Da “wonders why he has twice as many promos in his box as matches” H

PS – A lot of people loved the cock tonight! Way too many no shows and double no shows. If you have time to promo, you should have time to throw SOMETHING together for a match. Sheesh.

SWF Storm (September 6, 2002)

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