SWF Smarkdown (Sept. 9/2002)

[Guest BA_Baracus]

The opening festivities for SWF Smarkdown have finally ceased, as the effects of the fast-paced heavy metal and superfluous fireworks are shown through the wildly cheering fans within the Skyreach Center. Suddenly, a Mexican voice comes over the loudspeakers, shouting “UNO! DOS! TRES! CUATRO!” and cutting through the cheers as a burst of pyro explodes from each turnbuckle in conjunction with each shouted word. The cheering immediately switches to a raucous mixture of cheers and boos, which nearly drown out Bunch of Believer’s “Mission Trip to Mexico”. As the ska pounds over the speakers, El Luchadore Magnifico suddenly bursts out from behind the curtains, gripping the World Title with one hand and his Mexican Flag with the other! This of course only makes the crowd louder, as Magnifico pauses at the top of the ramp and raises both of his arms into the air, grinning like a hopped-up Cheshire Cat as he is flooded with flashbulb light.

 

Funyon: Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome your new SWF World Heavyweight Champion...El Luchadooooooorre Magnificooooooooo!!

 

Upon hearing his name, ELM quickly wraps the belt around his waist, before making his way down the ramp, slapping fans’ hands as he goes. Magnifico slides beneath the bottom rope as he reaches the ring, before popping to his feet and hopping onto the nearby corner’s second turnbuckle, Mexican Flag in hand. From there, ELM continues his wild flag-waving, drawing another wave of flashbulbs and indeterminate noise upon him

 

Stevens: There he is, ladies and gentlemen! El Luchadore Magnifico, who became the new World Champion after he defeated Edwin MacPhisto on Storm!

 

Riley: And the killer of the Carnival! I’m sure he’s out here to affirm what we all know, and that is the complete obliteration of the Midnight Carnival at his hands!

 

Stevens: Please! You have no idea what he’s going to say! And even though Magnifico did take advantage of Raynor’s interference on Storm to win the Title, I don’t think that’s enough to break up the Carnival!

 

Riley: Nooo, but having the two active members of said Carnival beat each other senseless might do it.

 

After a few seconds, Magnifico hops off of the second turnbuckle, leans his flag up against the corner, and walks towards the other side of the ring, closest to the announcer’s table. He signals for a microphone, which is quickly handed to him by a faceless technician. Mike in hand, Magnifico walks towards the center of the ring, his head held high. He looks over the crowd for a few seconds, taking in the moment, before bringing the mike to his lips.

 

“Good evening to all mis amigos in Edmonton!” shouts ELM excitedly. He of course gets a cheap hometown pop from the fans, but a few boos can still be heard beneath the cheering of everybody else. Magnifico pauses for a second, soaking in the cheers, before continuing. “I’d like to welcome each and every one of you to the Mexican Era, part two!” As ELM finishes, the responding reaction is a bit more mixed, as the booing and cheering seems to be almost evenly split throughout the arena. Magnifico seems to notice the boos for the first time this evening, sobering his attitude quite a bit. He begins pacing slowly around the ring, his head down, before beginning again.

 

“I probably deserve that.” Says Magnifico softly, quieting down the crowd. “No, no, I definitely deserve that.” The fans are now almost completely silent, wanting to hear what ELM has to say.

 

“I know that Raynor’s interference wasn’t my fault,” Magnifico begins, “But the fact of the matter is, I was the one who gained the most from it. I was the one who snuck up behind Edwin. I was the one who hooked his arms. I was the one who landed the Baja California Crusher, not Raynor.” ELM pauses, allowing the fans who are reminded of that to boo and cheer briefly.

 

“And I was the one who robbed Senor MacPhisto of the Title.” Magnifico admits sadly, gesturing to the belt around his waist. “Instead of allowing ourselves to have a fair contest, I took the easy way out and finished Edwin off while he was distracted. And I know that I owe him an apology for that.”

 

The fans go silent once more, apparently content with Magnifico’s admission of guilt. “So Edwin,” says Magnifico, raising his head again, “if you’re back there, I just want to say--”

 

“I SAID HALLELUJAH!”

 

BOOM!

 

“TO THE SIXTEEN LOYAL FANS!”

 

BOOM! The entrance ramp is rocked with a tremendous explosion of red and gold pyrotechnics as “Battleflag” by the Lo-Fidelity All-Stars bumps across the speakers, cutting off the new world champ! The fans turn their attention to the ramp as wild disco lights and strobes erupt, and all the while, Bobby Riley bubbles over with glee!

 

“He’s here, he’s here, Mark!”

 

“Since when were you ever excited to see Edwin, Bobby?”

 

“Since Magnifico stole his title, and since Edwin wants to get out here and break some necks! ELM best make like Wu-Tang and protect!”

 

“I think you’re mistaken,” retorts Mark, “but in any case, the former champion is on his way out! Edwin MacPhisto, the longest-reigning champ in SWF history, is on his way out to address his stablemate and the man who finally knocked him off the top!” The crowd roars with a mixed reaction, cheers for both Edwin and Magnifico rising up…and suddenly a silhouette appears on the ramp, quickly stepping forward into the light, flanked by a somewhat robust man to his right! “It’s the rest of the Carnival—it’s Edwin and Z both!” The two Carnies pause at the entrance stage momentarily, before making their way down the ramp and towards the ring. Edwin and Z slide into the ring simultaneously, popping to their feet as Magnifico looks on, concerned. A grim expression on his face, MacPhisto stares a hole into the luchadore.

 

“And they’re about to lay down the law!” cackles Riley. The crowd starts to settle down as Edwin pulls a microphone to his lips…

 

“Quiet, quiet, quiet—we’ve got words to say, people!” “Battleflag” cuts out and the murmur of the crowd fades, with a few “MAG-NIF-I-CO,” “MAC-PHIST-OOOOO” and “CARN-I-VAL” chants interspersed amongst the low hum. “But,” continues Edwin, his voice dripping with scorn, “in all truth, Magnifico, I have only one thing to say to you. On Storm, you pinned me in the center of the ring, and you took away my SWF World Heavyweight Title, a belt I fought hard to protect for four months, because it is, above all, the grandest prize in this world we call home. A belt that was my very motivation to come down here night after night--”

 

“Edwin, amigo, I--”

 

“Hold on Mag, I’m not yet finished! I’ve got one thing to say to you, so let me say it.” Edwin looks down at his feet, and the crowd murmurs.

 

“This could get ugly,” worries Stevens.

 

“All I have to say is…” Edwin looks up, Z cowering somewhat by his side, but standing resolute…Edwin looks up…and…

 

…grins?

 

“Congratulations, you bloody beautiful Mexican bastard!” In the ring, Magnifico sighs with relief as Edwin and Z grin on, and the crowd explodes around them!

 

“The former champ’s just given Magnifico, the man who defeated him, his blessing!” beams Stevens. “I knew it’d all be okay!”

 

“It’s a simple fact, Mag,” continues Edwin, pacing lightly back and forth and grinning up a storm. “Men like Perfect Bo, Lerrin Breggan, and Chris Wilson couldn’t take that belt away from me. As hard as they tried, I outlasted them every time…and then you come along, and do it in one shot, just like that! Only one man could beat a Carnie, Mag, and that was another Carnie! It proves the grandest hypothesis in the world Magnifico, and that is this: Carnies, plain and simple, always have, do now, and will forever, world without end, not do it well, not do it better, but do it the god-damn bloody best!”

 

“CARN-I-VAL! CARN-I-VAL! CARN-I-VAL!”

 

“Listen to the fans, Riley! They’re ecstatic—Bobby, what are you doing with that rope?”

 

“Could you held the end of the noose for me, Mark? Life’s not worth living after seeing this cutesy-wutesy lovefest.”

 

In the ring, Magnifico brings the microphone back to his lips, grinning up a storm of his own! “Oh, dios mio, Edwin, you have no idea how glad I am to hear that. I was worried we might have to set ourselves up for a Mexican Deathmatch or something to sort this all out--”

 

“Mag,” explains Edwin, “all it’ll take to sort things out between us is, oh, you buying the liquor for the next poker night. I think Z’s been hazed enough when it comes to that, don’t you agree?” Beside Edwin, Z makes a poor-boy face, showing off his empty pockets and obvious New Jersey-style poverty. “No, Mag, I don’t have any issue with you—mind you, if they decide to give me a rematch, I’ll come out fighting, but I know you wouldn’t want that any other way.” The luchadore champeen nods his approval, and Edwin resumes. “However,” he continues, pacing once more, "there is one man who I have to deal with yet. One man whom I’d like to deal with immediately. That man…is Chris Raynor.”

 

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

 

“Yes, ladies and gentlemen, it hurts me as much as you, but dearest caveman Chris has gone off the deep-end. As far as I consider it Mag, the Mexican Pride Press you unloaded on Storm sealed the deal in your own name—you’re off the hook, because you tried to do things the right way. Raynor, however…plain and simple, Raynor. You come out here asking for a match, and then you seem to think that the only way to get my attention is to harass me, interfere in my matches…and finally, cost me the world title. Well, Chris,” speaks Edwin, looking up, “you’ve got my bloody attention now, and I think you’re about to wish that you never caught my eye to begin with.”

 

“Edwin’s laying it down for Chris Raynor, right now!” shouts Stevens. “The Carnies are standing strong, but the traitor amongst them’s in trouble now!”

 

“I’ve held the world title,” continues Edwin, “and I’ve done a million grand things. But lately, my focus has waned—I have not been on the top of my game, and I have not been at my best for the Carnival. There are, you see, two stressors in my life—Chris Raynor is one, and…Silent, is the other. I’ve become self-absorbed in these two men…and that’s how I must stay.” The crowd gives a mix of cheers and boos, uncertain what to make of that statement. “As far as I can see it, now that Magnifico has defeated me expertly and become the new world champion, I have two things left here, and they are those two men. But these two men are not to be underestimated, and these two men have already taken far too many of my resources—I can’t go on like this.”

 

“What’s he saying, Mark? Is Edwin announcing a retirement?”

 

“I don’t think so…I hope not…”

 

“The bottom line is this, ladies and gentlemen. I cannot pursue these bitter grudges and lead the Carnival at the same time.” Edwin looks up and faces Mag, who looks on with concern. Edwin nods…and Mag responds.

 

“Edwin, I…I don’t think I can do this. You’re the leader of the Carnival! You’ve been that for nearly a year--”

 

“And now,” interrupts the Carnival’s ringmaster, “I have to step down.”

 

“Edwin’s giving up the leadership of the Carnival? This is a complete shocker, folks!” says Stevens.

 

“Edwin, I can’t take over right now!” shouts Magnifico. “I’ve just won the belt—you’ve got your burdens, and now I’ve got my own! Dios mio, I wish you’d have talked to me earlier about this!”

 

“Don’t worry, Mag!” chirps Edwin, grinning eagerly. “I wouldn’t ask that much of you!” In the ring, Magnifico cocks his head, confused. “You’ve got a new title, and therefore you’ve got everyone in the fed gunning for you! Added responsibility at a time like this just wouldn’t be fair.”

 

“What’s Edwin saying?” murmurs Riley. “I’m not sure I totally understand what he’s saying. I really, really hope I’m misunderstanding what he’s saying.”

 

“I think I know what he’s doing, Bobby,” grins Mark.

 

“Please tell me that you’re unretiring right now and taking the reigns, Mark. This can’t be happening.”

 

“No, you’re not going to be the new leader of the Carnival,” continues Edwin, his grin a mile wide as the crowd reception grows, a hint of awareness washing over the fans, as Edwin turns, turns, turns…towards the man standing by his side, the man with jaw gaping, hands waving, and eyes wide…

 

“Ladies and gentlemen, without further adieu, I, Edwin MacPhisto, hand over the reigns of the greatest stable in the history of the SWF, the Midnight Carnival…to the one, the only…

 

 

…Alex “Z” Zenon!”

 

“I can’t believe it!” bellows Mark Stevens. “A new champion AND a new leader--Z is the now in charge of the Midnight Carnival!”

 

The fans go nuts! In the ring, Magnifico smiles widely and pumps his fist in enthusiasm, while Z stares on gaping, grabbing the microphone from Edwin’s hands! “You told me I was coming out here to make funny faces and stuff! You didn’t say you were going to—Edwin, you told me—you—AHHH! I can’t do this! How can you possibly think I can--”

 

“Because, Z,” answers Edwin, snatching the microphone back from the one-letter wonder as the crowd continues to roar, “I can’t do it anymore. I need someone to take over what we’ve all started! And in you…I see that potential. Beneath the naivete, beneath the joking spirit, there’s something powerful…there’s untapped potential and skill…something that I think needs a trial by fire to truly surface!”

 

“Edwin, this is--”

 

“Brilliant, Z? I know, I thought of it after all! The change is effective immediately, and your responsibilities begin now! Everything is in its right place, as best we can shape it. What do you think of all this, Senor Champion?” The Mac Daddy makes a wide gesture to his side, where the World Heavyweight Champion stands.

 

"Oh, I like it Edwin." says Magnifico, grinning for about the twentieth time tonight. "I like it a lot. Que mucho gusto. But I think we're still missing something." ELM suddenly becomes concerned, as he taps his chin with the microphone and goes into deep thought. As Z's panic attack continues in the background, Edwin, and the crowd for that matter, observes Magnifico curiously, wondering what the luchadore could ever be thinking.

 

"We need..." ELM begins, breaking the silence, "...a celebration!! Meida, technical person guy! Break out the cooler! Cervezas para todas mis amigos!"

 

The crowd roars in approval as a random techie drags out an oversized cooler from beneath the ring, which is shown to be loaded to the brim with Mexican beer as the lid is opened. A beer is tossed to Magnifico, which ELM tosses to former fearless leader Edwin, who immediately snaps it open, grinning wildly as he does so. ELM catches another beer, this time tossing it to Z, who breaks from his panicking long enough to catch the beer in front of his face. Magnifico catches a third, opens it, and approaches the center of the ring with the other two Carnies. ELM raises the microphone to his lips, even though he's barely audible over the cheering over the crowd.

 

"To the future of the Carnival!!" shouts Magnifico.

 

"To the future!!" echoes Edwin. Z manages to mumble something before all three men drive their beers forward, colliding in a spray of froth and alchohol as the fans grow even louder. Mag, Mac, and Z down their beers almost simultaneously, as "Rollercoaster of Love" hits the speakers.

 

"What a sight! The Carnival is as strong as ever, and they have a bright new future to look forward to!" shouts Stevens gleefully.

 

'Wow, fantastic. When the hell is this show over again?" mumbles Riley apathetically.

 

"Get comfortable Riley, because we're just getting started! Stick around folks, we'll be right back after the commercial break!"

 

The final image broadcasted before the commercial break is Z, Edwin, and Mag, each manning a corner and playing to the roaring crowd with undauntable glee.

[Guest BA_Baracus]

Singles Match

Mercury vs. Tom Flesher

- On Storm, Flesher managed to hold onto his Light-Heavyweight Title with a win over Annie Eclectic, meanwhile Mercury fell just short in losing to Chris Raynor. Mercury has really been looking to get on track lately as he seems like the lost member of the Magnificent 7, and with old heads like Divefire and Tyler McLelland running around getting all the press, Mercury wants everyone to remember that he too was one of the top guys in the fed. He’ll attempt to prove why he’s still one of the best on Monday when he takes on Tom Flesher, who has to be worried about whether or not the un-booked Tod deKindes will get involved.

 

Singles Match

Xero vs. Frost

- Xero and Ash Ketchum have certainly found themselves knee-deep in a feud with the tag champs, Frost and TNT, and Danny Williams. Ketchum and Xero appear to lining themselves up for a shot at the tag title somewhere down the road, but before that can happen, Xero must first survive the cold winter that is the Monster Frost.

 

No DQ - Handicapped Match

X Force 9 {Ash Ketchum & Renegade} vs. Chris Wilson

- Hmmm…it seems that Sarah’s been dabbling in the booking again, and somehow managed to get this match made. On Storm, Annie Eclectic revealed herself to be a spy for M7’s leader, Chris Wilson. Together, they left poor LDP in a heap in the parking lot, and when Ketchum got word of this, he immediately went looking for Wilson. Chris and Annie had already gone out to celebrate at some restaurant, so Ash immediately went to his business associate, Sarah Leavenworth, demanding Wilson’s head. Sarah managed to get this match booked as Wilson will soon be going up against the legend, Divefire, who happens to be aligned with the commissioner. So, I suppose that Stubby was happy to help Sarah this time, as it benefits him and doesn’t conflict with any of his other interests. But, Stubby warned Sarah that he will not be subject to her female whims and won’t be hearing too many more booking suggestions from the diva.

- Match Rules: DQ and countout rules are not in effect. Renegade and Ash Ketchum do not have to tag in or out and both can be in the ring at the same time. Wilson need only pin on XF9 member to win.

 

Singles Match

Chris Raynor vs. “TNT” Taylor Nicholas Thompson

- Chris Raynor is all out of sorts these days, as he has turned his back on Edwin MacPhisto and the Midnight Carnival. He has become hated by the fans and wrestlers alike, and has really been nothing but a disruptive bitch backstage. The Internet rumors are that the 4-time tag team champion is on the verge of losing his job due to his backstage behavior…all stemming from a disturbing tape of Edwin. Meanwhile, one half of the tag team champions looks to be on a collision course with a newly formed team of convenience, Xero and Ash Ketchum. However, TNT is also looking to make a name for himself as a singles competitor. Thusly, he lept at this chance when his stable leader, Chris Wilson asked him to take on Raynor. The reasons, who knows…it could be because Wilson doesn’t trust Raynor, or it could be that Wilson doesn’t trust TNT. Or it could be that these two asked for this match since Raynor failed to show up for their first scheduled fight. It could be that they requested the match and the booking team couldn’t find the history to explain the match, so they rambled on for a bit hoping that no one would notice.

 

Singles Match

Sacred vs. The Boston Strangler

- On Storm, Strangler and Wilson took a tough loss to Divefire and Bo, as Wilson left the Superstation to be pinned. Stubby is attempting to nip any kind of retaliation from Strangler in the bud by sending Sacred to destroy the large M7 member. Sacred’s match on Storm, for some reason, went unbroadcasted…but Stubby has assured the Aussie that won’t happen this time and that he should take his frustrations out on Strangler in the only way he knows how…insane violence.

 

MAIN EVENT

Handicapped Tag Team Match

Silent/Thoth vs. Creative Control {Lerrin Breggan, Jay Dawg, & Perfect Bo}

- On Storm, Thoth barged into Stubby’s office intending to prove a point to the SWF Commissioner in the form of a gauntlet match, pitting himself against CC’s massive three. However, in an unexpected turn of events, Silent came barging in (talking about his match with Sacred that didn’t exactly happen), and declared that the match was no longer a gauntlet match, but instead, a handicapped tag team match. Old friends/enemies, Silent and Thoth will team up out of convenience as they try to take out the SWF’s new pecking order, Creative Control. Now that The Clan has broken up and with the tension that has been radiating between Silent and Thoth, will they be able to work together against a common enemy? Or, will their own egos and agendas get in the way of the bigger goal? Methinks whatever the outcome, it’s sure to be gold.

- Match Rules: DQ and countout rules are in effect. Both teams must tag in and out like a normal tag match, with only one member of each team in the ring at one time.

[Guest BA_Baracus]

SWF Smarkdown returns from a commercial for Oat Toast ("It's better than www.hotpandaluv.org! No, seriously!") and pans the arena. Fans are shown holding up signs such as "I'm Here To See Annie Kiss A Man," "Z: The Hometown Zero" and "Tagboard: 49 cents. Ticket: Entirely too much. Being seen on national TV marking out for gratuitous head-dropping: Priceless." Suddenly, the SmarkTron lights up with photos of Tom Flesher, grinning with one belt over each shoulder, on the left and Mercury looking angry on the right. The words "OPENING MATCH: TOM VS MERCURY scroll across the bottom of the screen as the fans cheer. Finally the camera swings over to the announce table, where Grand Slam Mark Stevens and Queen Size Bobby Riley sit. Stevens is clearly still jacked from his stablemate's promo, the first of his second SWF World Championship reign. A stray chant of "ELM! ELM!" breaks out here and there, but Stevens behins his spiel anyway.

 

"Ladies and gentlemen, we are BACK with SWF Monday Smarkdown, and how about those strong words from our new World Champion?"

 

"Sorry, Grand Spam, no habla espanol."

 

"Bobby, that was one of the most eloquent speeches that ANYONE, let alone Magnifico, has ever given!"

 

"Yeah. It's a shame it was lost on those of us who never took Spanish."

 

Steven sighs, and decides to move along. "Coming up next we have an encounter between former Clan member 'The Superior One' Tom Flesher and Magnificent Seven underling Mercury."

 

"What history between these two! How can you ignore it?!"

 

"Bobby, these two have faced ONCE before, in a three-way tag match."

 

Riley clears his throat. "But they've been building heat to this match for weeks!"

 

Stevens corrects him, "That's Tod deKindes, Bobby."

 

"Well, at least the Light Heavyweight Title is on the line." Stevens shakes his head. "The US Title?"

 

"Nope."

 

"Well then why the hell-"

 

Riley is cut off by the loud noise blaring over the speakers.

 

“...one last disguise...”

 

As if the sky were opening, the stage explodes with light blue flashing in every which way as “Spy Hunter” by Project 86 emits it’s sounds through the system. Simultaneously, Mercury steps out from the back to an intimidating collective roar from the crowd. Clips from his matches of the past flash by on the Smarktron above him, and through them all the Regeneration-X symbol slowly strengthens in opacity as he peers out at the cheering crowd and responds with a charismatic smile and the X symbol, crossing his wrists a foot in front of his chest for a brief moment. Slipping his arms back down to his side, he slowly descends the entrance ramp as he makes the trek toward the ring.

 

Funyon announces, "Making his way to the ring, from Los Angeles, California, and tipping the scales at two hundred thirty three pounds... Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you Merrrrrcuryyyyyyyyyy!!!!!!

 

As he is half-way down the ramp, he begins to sprint the rest of the way to the ring, diving in under the ropes. Running to the opposite side of the ring as he gets to his feet, he leaps up onto the ropes and stands for a moment with his arms outstretched. As he begins to lose his balance, he jumps back down into the ring and awaits his opponent.

 

The lights go back down, and twin columns of blue pyro spray out next to the entrance, accompanying the intro to the Philosopher Kings' "I Am The Man." After a few moments, BAM! The vocals, accompanied by a blue pyro explosion, blast out through the arena, and when the smoke clears, Tom Flesher stands in the entrance flanked by his belt girls. He releases himself from his cross-armed pose, then begins to stride confidently toward the ring. When he gets there, he holds the ropes open for his belt girls and then poses in the ring with one girl on either side. He looks at Funyon, and motions for the Index Card Of Superiority.

 

"Ladies, gentlemen and smarks of all ages and IQs, the man you see in the ring right now is a trooper. He is unselfish, utilitarian and inexpendable in his wish to always make you, the fans, happy. This man is putting YOUR happiness above HIS career tonight, because he knows that you paid a ridiculous sum of money to see him tonight. Therefore, by acting in the best interest of you, the fans, by jerking the curtain despite being CLEARLY above the degenerate- hm, he must mean Regenerate- across the ring, he shows his superior benevolence, and he proves that he loves you as much as you love him."

 

Riley gushes, "Maybe more!"

 

"So ladies and gentlemen, put your hands together for 213 pounds of unselfishness, cheer for the Buffalo native who wears the US and Light Heavyweight belts and bow down to the glory that is The Superior One, Tom Flesher!"

 

The crowd boos him loudly as he pecks each girl on the cheek and sends them back to the locker room with the belts. With that, he and Mercury come to the center, and Eddy Long signals for the bell.

 

 

DING DING DING!

 

 

Flesher and Mercury circle around each other for a second or so before they lock up. Almost immediately, Flesher grabs Mercury's neck and slaps on a side headlock. Mercury tries to fight it, but Flesher cranks the hold. After a moment or two, the Regenerate King steps forward and shifts his weight, trying to shoot Flesher off toward the ropes. Flesher plants his feet, though, and keeps the headlock on. Almost immediately, the fans begin to boo.

 

"Look at the technical skill being exhibited by Tom Flesher," declares Bobby Riley. "He's my hero, you know."

 

"Oh, I think he's a little more than that."

 

"Sure is! He's superior, too!"

 

Stevens mutters, "Christ..." as Flesher loosens the headlock for a moment, but then re-tightens it. The fans begin a chant of "REEEEEEESTHOOOOOOLD, REEEEEEESTHOOOOOOLD" as Flesher sarcastically wipes his brow with his free hand. Eddy long points at him and rolls his wrist, shouting, "Action, Flesher!" Flesher responds with, "Pfft. What are you going to do, hit me for passivity?" He rolls his eyes and secures the hold even tighter, with Mercury still trying to shoot him to the ropes. Eddy Long looks irritated, so Tom sighs and steps through with a side headlock takeover, pulling Mercury's neck up for

 

ONE!

 

 

but no more, as the Regenerate King rolls through to his stomach. Flesher keeps the side headlock and stands back up. He tightens his grip once again, much to the crowd's dismay.

 

"Flesher's just showing utter disdain for Mercury, AND for the crowd!" says Stevens. "This isn't what they paid to see!"

 

"Sure it is. Flesher's on top, and if he keeps this up, the FPM quotient just keeps going up and up."

 

Finally, unable to take any more of the silliness, Mercury locks his hands around Flesher's waist, steps around and nails Flesher with a backdrop suplex! He fails to hold the bridge, however, and releases Flesher on impact. After quickly cracking his neck, the Regenerate King beats Flesher back to his feet. As soon as the Superior One makes it back up, Mercury is waiting with a knife-edge chop

 

WHOO!

 

and another

 

WHOO!

 

and one more

 

WHOO!

 

which send Flesher a few steps backwards. With a quick spin, the Magnificent Seven's junior member executes a back heel kick, and Flesher backs into the ropes. Mercury tries to follow him in, but Eddy Long refuses to let him go. Flesher takes his sweet time in letting go of the top rope and coming back to the center.

 

"Flesher's looking absolutely unmotivated," says Stevens. "He's cheating these fans out of a match!"

 

"No way. He's giving them a lesson in crowd psychology 101!"

 

"Bobby, I believe the fans of the Smarks Wrestling Federation are familiar with working-the-crowd techniques."

 

"Ain't no shame being given a refresher course by the master, though."

 

Mercury takes the initiative to lock up with Flesher, who backs away as soon as he feels threatened. A moment later, on his own terms, Flesher initiates another lockup. This time, he quickly stiffs Mercury with a palm strike to the chest to knock the wind out of him, then bends his opponent over and locks on a front facelock. Immediately, he segues into...

 

nothing.

 

"These fans are booing, and with good cause! Flesher's just using restholds," Stevens says indignantly.

 

"Mark, I don't think someone of your carriage could POSSIBLY understand what's going on here. You see, you're what's known to the insider as a 'hoss.' It's nothing to be ashamed of... why, Thugg and Frost are hosses too, and look at how well they've done. But what Tom is doing here is called 'ring psychology.' He's using these holds to fatigue Mercury." Flesher leans on his opponent, front facelock fully intact. "That's what they call it when you build to a logical finish."

 

Stevens gradually turns deeper and deeper shades of red. "Bobby, I'll spare explaining to you that I was the SWF World Champion, and I know more than a little about ringwork. Flesher's just being lazy."

 

"Yes, but laziness is psychology!"

 

"No way! He's just mad about curtainjerking"

 

"As well he should be! He's bigger than Jesus! Hell, he's bigger than Buddha, even one of those really fat ones!"

 

As the fans begin to howl "Booooooriiiiiiiiing, Boooooooooriiiiiiiiiing," Flesher finally releases the front facelock and meets Mercury with a shotei as he stands back up. Flesher steps forward into another palm strike, then immediately locks up...

 

"Whoop-de-do," sighs Mark. "A bearhug."

 

"YES!!!!! Competent submission work! This guy's amazing!"

 

Flesher squeezes his arms around Mercury's chest and looks to referee Eddy Long. Long looks back with an expression that says, "Don't even think about it." Foregoing this advice, Flesher says, "Well? Are you gonna ask him?" Long replies, "Are you gonna put on a credible submission hold, or should I just disqualify you now?" With that, Flesher sighs deeply and simply drops Mercury onto the mat.

 

"Just look at the disrespect he's showing Mercury!"

 

"Oh, like Mercury deserves respect."

 

"He's a highly capable athlete!"

 

"He's not superior."

 

Mercury bounds back to his feet, uninjured aside from a clear problem with his neck. He cracks it to make sure it's alright, and then steps forward into a lockup. Flesher grabs him and goes for a front facelock, but Mercury sees it coming and counters it with a Northern Lights Suplex for

 

ONE!

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

but Flesher kicks out! He stands up and stands toe-to-toe with Eddy Long, then shouts "ARE YOU JUST GOING TO LET HIM DO THAT?!" Long looks confused, but before he can reply, Mercury slides in and rolls Flesher up in a schoolboy! Long drops down and counts

 

ONE!

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

but Flesher rolls through! The crowd cheers for the Regenerate King as Flesher stands up, mad as a hornet. "As soon as Long makes Flesher fight, Mercury starts picking up near-falls!" says Stevens. "I think the Magnificent Seven member may have Flesher's number!"

 

Riley giggles. "I have Flesher's number, but I'm too scared to call."

 

The arena stops. Everyone turns to look at Bobby Riley. "What? Haven't you ever wanted to talk to your favorite wrestler?"

 

"You're a strange one, Bobby. You really are."

 

Mercury meets Flesher in the center, looking more confident as Flesher's face turns red. Mercury looks the Superior One up and down, seeming to say to himself, "He's not such hot shit." Flesher shoots back a glower, and immediately the two workers lock up. Looking much more spirited, they go back and forth for a few moments in pushing and pulling to jockey for position. Flesher grabs Mercury's left arm and does his best to drag it by, looking to turn him off-balance for a go-behind into a German suplex. Mercury anticipates the move, though, and hooks Flesher's arm. With a fluid countermove, Mercury spins around and cinches a hammerock on Flesher's right arm. He continues the motion, bending Flesher over and keeping the hammerlock, finally flowing into a vicious Pipedream DDT! The fans cheer for the cool visual as Flesher flops onto his back. Mercury covers him for

 

ONE!

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

but Tom kicks out! Silent pulls him to his feet in a lockup, and Flesher once again grabs the arm. Knowing that he didn't succeed with the go-behind, Flesher instead opts to go with a different course of action and shoots a single-leg takedown. Hedrops down, keeping the wrist, and pulls Mercury's arm down to his ankle. In this awkward, bent-over position, the Regenerate has trouble keeping his balance, and a quick sweep of the other leg knocks him to his BUTT on the mat. Smoothly, Flesher swings around, still holding the arm, and locks his legs in a scissors grip around Mercury's neck and arm!

 

"AMAZING!" says Bobby Riley.

 

"I'll have to agree," replies Stevens, "that WAS a very impressive way to lock on a triangle choke."

 

Flesher tightens the choke as Mercury changes position and rolls to his stomach as a way to increase his chance of breaking the hold. Flesher extends himself, trying to put as much pressure as possible on his opponent's neck. Mercury forces himself forward, trying to use his weight to pin Flesher, but the Superior One makes sure he keeps one shoulder off the mat. In that extended position, however, it's very easy for Mercury to throw his leg over the bottom rope. Eddy Long administers the five-count, and Flesher breaks his hold. Mercury gets up just a little more slowly than last time, subtly rubbing his neck.

 

"Flesher's very gradually wearing Mercury down," says Riley.

 

"Very true," says Stevens, "but you have to remember that Mercury is fast enough and talented enough to take anyone out in three hits. Flesher can't relax, or Mercury will take him to the cleaners... and that, my friends, is a damn promise."

 

Mercury sees Flesher coming at him to lock up, and decides he needs to take charge. He spins around and catches his opponent in the forehead with a back heel kick, staggering Flesher. The Magnificent Seven's representative follows that up with a few quick knife-edge chops to the chest in order to keep Tom stunned, then spins behind him and locks up a double chickenwing. Before Flesher even knows what hit him, Mercury arches backwards and throws him in a released Tiger suplex!

 

"CRYSTAL PLANET!" shouts Stevens. "Mercury hits Tom Flesher with that super-stiff released Tiger suplex, and look at Flesher! He got every bit of it!"

 

Flesher lands on his neck, with his feet up over his head. Temporarily knocked silly by the throw, Flesher stays in that position for about ten more seconds before he regains his senses. Mercury, it seems, knows that he won't get the fall from the Crystal Planet, and goes to the ring apron. As soon as Flesher starts to get to his feet, Mercury vaults himself onto the top rope, springs off and dropkicks Flesher in the chest. Flesher staggers backwards, landing in the corner. Mercury backs out and runs to the opposite corner, then charges into the corner to nail Flesher with a running knee strike. Flesher sees it coming, though, and pops up his Doc Marten, kicking the taste out of Mercury's mouth and snapping his neck backwards. Mercury staggers backwards, only to have Flesher spin around and hammer in im the jaw with a Roaring Shotei, which forces his head back and causes even more whiplash force on his neck.

 

"Flesher just won't quit," says Stevens. Riley just smiles and warmly mutters, "Mmm, no he won't." Stevens clears his throat and opens his mouth to respond, but thinks better of it.

 

"Between the side headlock, the front facelock and the triangle choke, Flesher has effectively fatigued the muscles in Mercury's neck. Mercury's neck just isn't used to tat kind of stress, and the striking may have just caused something to shut down!"

 

Flesher sees Mercury laying on the mat and grabs him- by the head, of course- to yank him back to his feet. Quickly, Flesher spins behind his opponent, locks up a waistlock and arches back. After a moment of hangtime, Mercury hits the mat head-first, victim of a backdrop driver. Flesher looks down cockily, and takes a moment to play to the crowd by stepping on Mercury's chest and walking over him on his way across the ring. Flesher leans on the ropes, smirking at the body of his opponent. Mercury starts to get up, using the ropes to steady himself, but Flesher doesn't move. The Regenerate finally gets to his feet and turns to face the Superior One, only to have Flesher charge at him and boot him stiffly in the face with a Doc Marten Yakuza kick. Once again, Mercury's head snaps back, and he collapses to the mat.

 

"Tom Flesher is just punishing Mercury's neck! What a sadist!"

 

"What a man!"

 

Flesher picks his opponent up and, very arrogantly, threads Mercury's arm through his own legs. He takes the pumphandle and hoists his opponent into the air, then holds him in position for a few moments. After what he considers a sufficient hang time, Flesher sits out, slamming Mercury's head into the mat with Tod deKindes' Cerebral Driver!

 

"And look at the smirk on his face," says Mark Stevens. "He doesn't give a damn about this match, or even about Mercury! He just wants to send a message to Tod deKindes! What a creep!"

 

Flesher covers his opponent for

 

ONE!

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

THREE!!!!!!!!

 

 

DING DING DING!!!!!

 

Flesher rolls off his opponent, then carefully adjusts his Boilermaker t-shirt just so before letting Eddy Long raise his arm. "The winner of this match," says Funyon, "the United States and Light Heavyweight Champion, 'The Superior One' Tom Flesher!" Tom bows, accepting the adulation of a crowd that is, in fact, booing him savagely. He then dusts himself off, climbs out of the ring and struts to the back.

 

"Fans, we've got a lot more action coming at you. Up next, Xero and Frost, and it's all building up to Silent and Thoth taking on Creative Control in a handicap match! Don't touch that remote!" shills Stevens.

 

"Or that Oat Toast!" says Riley. "Man, that stuff's just awful!"

[Guest BA_Baracus]

WHAM.

 

 

WHAM.

 

 

WHAM.

 

 

The noise reverberates through the otherwise empty gym, the unmistakable sound of a fist repeatedly hitting a leather bag suspended in midair.

 

 

WHAM.

 

 

Peter MacDougal powers his right arm into the punching bag, over and over again. The hardened veteran can barely stand, his knee braces the only thing keeping his feet planted on the floor, and yet he fights on.

 

 

WHAM.

 

 

The punching sounds are soon coupled with a second, more familiar sound, the sound of labored breathing as Pete becomes winded, just ten minutes into his physical therapy session. Pete is tiring early, the results of massive physical punishment inflicted upon him over the last several weeks, but he refuses to give up, laying into the bag again, this time shouting what would sound like a battle cry to a passerby, but was really a cry of agony as pain shoots through Pete's right arm.

 

 

"AAAAAAAARRRRRRRRGH!!!"

 

 

WHAM.

 

 

"Pete?"

 

 

Pete stops and glances at the door, momentarily distracted as Sarah Leavenworth walks into the gym. "Pete!" she repeats in concern. "I could hear you all the way down the hall."

 

"I'm training," he replies simply.

 

"Oh. Sorry if I disturbed you," Sarah offers. "I can go if you'd like--"

 

"Don't go," Pete cuts her off. "It's about time we talked, actually." He steps away from the bag and turns to face his business manager.

 

Sarah nods, stepping further into the room. "There's been a lot going on. A lot we haven't addressed. We could start with Apocalypse."

 

"Yes, we could," Pete agrees, his ire rising. "Because that's exactly what it was. X Force 9 went winless at Apocalypse, and Erek Taylor was forced out of the company. That's where our team began to crumble."

 

"We lost another one on Storm," Sarah reminds Pete, obviously speaking of Annie Eclectic's defection to the Magnificent Seven, and the arms of leader Chris Wilson, one of Pete's greatest rivals.

 

"I'm well aware of that," Pete answers, his temper increasing by the moment. "And I should have seen it coming. I should have taken every sign of trouble to heart, but I didn't. Why? Because I'm too trusting. I'm too trusting, and too considerate, and too god-damned blind! ARRGH!"

 

 

WHAM! Pete takes another swing at the bag, striking it hard, dead center. Unfortunately, the swing throws Pete off balance, and his legs give out. Pete crumples in a heap, falling on the floor as his legs simply refuse to continue supporting his weight.

 

"Pete!" exclaims Sarah, and she rushes to his side, holding his arm for support he slowly gets back to his feet. "Pete, you're exhausted. Give yourself a rest."

 

"We're down two members," Pete continues as if he hadn't heard her. "First Erek and now Annie. Our team's record is in the gutter and our remaining members are going nowhere fast -- including me."

 

"Pete..."

 

"I'm failing them as a leader, Sarah. And I'm losing them -- just like Wilson predicted."

 

"You're not losing them, Pete. We're in a slump, but it isn't going to last. We'll pick up our pace. I'll start looking out for new members to recruit. This team will come together again. And you know what you need, Pete?"

 

"I know exactly what I need," Pete replies. "I need a big win."

 

Sarah shakes her head. "That's not what I was thinking."

 

"But it's true," Pete presses. "That'll put me back on top, and inspire the rest of the team to bigger and better things. And I know just how to do it... by beating Chris Wilson's ass for the ICTV title."

 

"And how do you plan to get that match?" Sarah asks, frowning. "You already confronted Wilson in the ring on Storm and challenged him there, and he turned you down flat." Sarah looks a little disappointed; she had been about to suggest that Pete take some time off to heal.

 

Pete thinks about it a moment, and comes to a decision he has never had to make before. "Then I guess I'll have to confront him... outside the ring."

[Guest BA_Baracus]

The camera fades back in on Smarkdown with a panning shot of the crowd. A vendor deals bacon in the stands. Hockey pucks fly at random for no reason. Moose wander in and out at their personal discretion. The camera swoops down to rest in front of the commentator’s table.

 

Riley: “I thought summer was all but over, but here we are showing a rerun.”

 

Stevens: “Rerun? What are you talking about?”

 

Riley: “Frost vs. Xero. This is from the August 30th Storm. Frost whips Xero’s ass from pillar to post and pins him with…uh….a little ‘assistance’ from Danny Williams. It’s not bad for a first hour Storm match, a little over **.”

 

Stevens: “You’re a complete idiot! This show is live, you and I are here live!”

 

Riley: “I know. My commentary was brilliant as usual. Yours? Well…you need to watch more of those Sean Mooney tapes I loaned you.”

 

Stevens: “Doesn’t the fact that you saying this is a rerun, make this NOT a rerun.”

 

Riley ponders for a second in deep thought.

 

Riley: “No, I think I pointed that out when this originally aired.”

 

Stevens gives an exasperated yelp and puts his head down on the table to sob. The lights go out and the fans give a mild cheer as “Master of Puppets” plays. The theme reaches a break and then….

 

“OBEY YOUR MASTER!”

 

The song plays through again as red fireworks explode on the stage. The lights flicker back on to reveal Xero moving down the ramp. He holds a thumb up to the audience and sticks out his tongue in cocky bravado as the throng pops louder.

 

Funyon: “Introducing first from Port Colbourne, Ontario Canada at a weight of 199 pounds. The self-proclaimed King of the DDT… XEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

 

Stevens: “For my sake, Bobby, pretend this is a new match and call it with me, would you?”

 

Riley: “Whatever floats your boat, but we’re just wasting energy here.”

 

Xero slides into the ring and pops up to the near turnbuckles to gaze out on the crowd.

 

Funyon: “And his opponent…”

 

The fans vehemently boo as “Cities on Flame with Rock ‘n Roll” echoes through the auditorium. Frost strolls out to the top of the stage and holds a clenched fist up to the audience.

 

Funyon: “at a weight of 296 pounds and hailing from Reykjavik, Iceland. He is one half of the SWF Tag Team Champions and a member of the Magnificent 7… FRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSST!”

 

Stevens: “Frost, along with tag partner TNT and Danny Williams defeated a team of Xero, Ash Ketchum and Tod Dekindes on last Friday’s Storm with a little help from Taylor’s baseball bat. Another proof that this is not a rerun.”

 

Riley: “Whatever you say, Mark.”

 

Xero stands in the center of the ring and shouts curses at Frost as he circles the outside area, puffing on his cigar. He snuffs it out on the guardrail and lets it drop to the ground. Frost pulls himself up to the apron by the second rope and swings his wide legs over the top strand.

 

Stevens: “This is ANOTHER chapter in the burdening feud between Xero and the Mag 7. The lightweight grappler made a big mistake when he took Danny Williams on as a tag partner. A union that did not last long.”

 

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

 

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

 

Riley: “Told you this was a rerun. We said that when this first aired.”

 

DING DING DING

 

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

 

Riley: “Hmm…where have I heard you say that before.”

 

Frost lunges forward for an elbow and collar tie up, but Xero jutes to his right and attempts to clamp down on Frost’s arm. However, Frost steps to his left at the same instant and surprises Xero with a spinning back fist to the jaw.

 

Stevens: “AHA! In their first encounter, Xero caught Frost for an arm drag there, but Frost has learned since then and managed to counter with the back fist.”

 

Xero staggers across the mat holding his sore jaw as Frost stalks him. Frost clamps his hands over his head in a double axe handle.

 

Riley: “How they can digitally alter video nowadays blows my mind.”

 

Xero senses the big man behind him and flips around with a spinning kick to Frost’s gut. Frost doubles over and Xero flies into the near ropes. He slows down as he reaches his opponent and deftly takes his head under his armpit and twists Frost around to rest the back of his head on his shoulder.

 

Stevens: “Nicely snapped off spinning neckbreaker there by Xero and he’s back on his feet and heading for the ropes.”

 

Xero springs off and plummets to the mat in a basement dropkick that catches Frost in the chest as he tries to sit up. Frost rolls with the blow over to the ropes and attempts to quickly pull himself up. Xero hops back onto his left leg and shoots out his right foot with a lightening crack of a thrust kick to Frost’s back. Frost slumps off balanced into the ropes and lays dazed over the second cord.

 

Riley: “For the sake of argument here, let’s say this is a new match. In that case, Xero has learned from his previous dealings with Frost not to let him put a hand on him or it’s all over. Xero has to use his blinding speed and stiff strikes to counteract Frost’s forceful, but slower power attack.”

 

Xero streaks back into the far rope. He leaps into the air and smashes down across Frost’s back and drives his throat into the second rope. Xero straddles the big man for a second before rolling off backwards and retaking his feet.

 

Stevens: “Listen to those fans scream, Bobby. Xero’s fast attack strategy is not only working, but rallying the fans for this de facto good guy.”

 

Riley: “A bunch of mouth breathers fifty feet away from the action is really going to help him win this one.”

 

Frost spins out of the ropes and down to his rear on the canvas. Xero guns for the ropes again and charges back.

 

Stevens: “Although Xero has never been a crowd pleaser for long, I think this speaks to just how hated the Magnificent 7 and Frost are by the SWF fan base.”

 

Riley: “That just makes ten million less Christmas cards for Wilson and the boys to send out this year.”

 

Xero aims a seated dropkick at Frost’s face, but he puts his hands up to block and swats the much lighter man away. Xero catches himself on his hands and pushes himself up horizontal with the canvas. He flings himself off the mat with the strength of his wiry arms and lays into Frost with a spinning body attack.

 

Stevens: “WOW! Xero uses his whole body as a weapon and sends Frost tumbling to the floor.”

 

Frost clambers to his feet as Xero straightens up in the ring and measures his opponent on the outside. He grabs the top rope with both hands and uses it as slingshot to lift himself up and over to the floor. Xero flattens out for a crossbody, but a recovered Frost stands his ground and snags Xero on his way down.

 

Riley: “What did I say about letting Frost catch him?”

 

Referee Eddy Long starts his count out. (ONE) Frost holds Xero across his chest while he shakes his head and screams ‘no’ at the jeering fans. (TWO) He hefts Xero’s hundred pound lighter frame a few times to show how little he weighs to him, (THREE) then rolls him up and over his head as he falls back to the thin outside floor mats!

 

(FOUR)

 

Stevens: “Frost pulls his old modified fallaway slam out of the mothballs to take control.”

 

(FIVE)

 

Riley: “Now, Frost has to keep on him and neutralize his speed by wearing him down with his bulk. (SIX) Of course, Williams is going to make the save, so it matters little.”

 

(SEVEN)

 

Frost stands up and rolls underneath the ring ropes to break the count. Frost returns to the floor as Long shakes his head in disgust in having to start another. (ONE) Frost pulls Xero the rest of the way up as he struggles to his feet. (TWO) Xero tries to bolt, but the Icelander has an iron grip. He takes Xero around the waist (THREE) and tosses him nonchalantly up on his shoulder face down. (FOUR) Frost shuffles his feet in place a few seconds to build speed and then takes off for the far guardrail. (FIVE) Xero’s eyes flutter open to view his impending doom and he pushes off of Frost’s shoulder and behind him to the floor.

 

(SIX)

 

Riley: “Xero slides out of a Snake Eyes attempt. Yeah, I haven’t seen that one BEFORE.”

 

(SEVEN)

 

Frost pulls short on his run and pivots around again with another back fist. (EIGHT) Xero ducks under the slashing arm with ease and scurries around Frost to slip back into the ring as Long reaches nine. Frost eyes go wide at Xero duping him and he rockets back to the ring.

 

Stevens: “Yes, but notice how Frost pulled up, knowing Xero would wiggle out of the move and then Xero ducked under the back fist that Frost used as a counter earlier in this match.”

 

Frost glides in under the bottom rope and to his feet as Xero bounces off the far ropes.

 

Riley: “Are you trying to trick me into saying that the more times two men wrestle they learn each others move sets and figure out how to counter and predict moves from earlier matches, to prove this isn’t a rerun?”

 

Stevens: “Something like that.”

 

Xero goes airborne for a dropkick, but Frost wraps his elbows around the near top rope and pulls himself back. Xero splats to the canvas, but scrambles up quickly and tries to follow with a spinning heel kick. Frost sidesteps to his right and Xero’s leg ricochets off the ropes. Xero cartwheels through the momentum of the missed blow and winds up facing away from his opponent.

 

Stevens: “Frost charges with a forearm! Xero drops to the mat!”

 

The Iceman runs over top of Xero and again stops himself short. Frost shoots the audience a smug grin, when Xero pops up from behind and pushes Frost into the corner to ram the turnbuckle chest first. Frost bounces out and Xero hurls him over.

 

Stevens: “ROLLUP FOR THE PIN!”

 

ONE

 

 

TWO

 

 

THR-

 

Stevens: “No, Frost fights free and both men race back up.”

 

Riley: “I told you, this match doesn’t end until Danny…uh…lends a hand.”

 

Xero continues to ride his speed by nimbly hooking Frost and arm dragging him over. Both men dart up, with Xero landing another arm drag to the delight of the fans. Xero vaults up again, but Frost wisely rolls out to the floor for a breather.

 

Stevens: “Frost back out on the floor and Xero keeps his distance in the ring.”

 

Riley: “Remembering what happened last time. Frost might not be the fastest man in the SWF, but he has sharp reflexes and good timing.”

 

Frost yells at the crowd, frustrated in not being able to ground Xero, and then pulls himself up to the apron by the second rope. Xero runs over as Frost takes the top rope in his hands. Xero grips the ropes and jerks back in looking to slingshot Frost in the ring, but he’s too heavy and reverses the move on Xero by throwing him out of the ring with a good tug of his own! Xero does a somersault and lands with a wet thump.

 

Stevens: “XERO TAKES A WICKED HEADER TO THE FLOOR! OH GOD…HERE COMES FROST!”

 

Frost walks a few steps down the apron to stand above Xero and then dives off with an elbow. Frost sails into the camera frame like he’s going to break through the screen into someone’s living room. He catches Xero in the throat and both men lay winded on the ground as another count out starts.

 

(ONE)

 

Riley: “Xero tried to get cute with the slingshot and it cost him.”

 

(TWO)

 

Stevens: “And you’re saying the elbow off the apron wasn’t for show?”

 

(THREE)

 

Riley: “Frost is a calculating planner, he knew he needed a big move and that he could hit one no problem.”

 

(FOUR)

 

Frost sits up, gasping for breath, and climbs up while dragging Xero with him. (FIVE) Frost stretches his right arm out and across his body as he turns slightly and sends it slicing through the air with a fierce chop to Xero’s throat. (SIX) Xero spins around from the shot and trips away in pain. Frost clutches Xero by the rear of his tights and a hand on his shoulder. (SEVEN) He guides Xero around and presses him squarely into the ring post. The fans verbally cringe as the reverberating clang fills the auditorium. (EIGHT) Frost keeps hold of Xero and escorts him back into the ring with a gruff shove and then follows.

 

Riley: “Bruising, pounding, hammering, that’s what Frost does to a man until they have lost the will to fight.”

 

Stevens: “I thought that’s what you did to men.”

 

Xero flops like a dying flounder on the canvas, trying to force air through his bruised larynx and sternum. Frost saunters up and punts Xero in the ribs just to be a dick.

 

Riley: “Yeah, I used to be able to take my opponents like that.”

 

Stevens: “I didn’t mean your opponents.”

 

Xero rests on his back, but not for long as he soon finds near 300 pounds of muscular mass crushing down on top of him with a knee to the chest. Frost adjusts to a lateral press.

 

ONE

 

 

 

TWO

 

 

 

THRE-

 

Xero gets a weak shoulder up to the relief of the crowd.

 

Stevens: “I have no idea where Xero received that burst of energy from, but it was just enough to stave off the inevitable.”

 

Riley: “God maybe, he pities retards and degenerates.”

 

Frost glowers at Long with fuming rage and then silently brings Xero to his feet. He drives Xero into the near corner with a series of chops to the upper portion of his chest. Xero slouches in the corner and Frost presses him in further with a shoulder block.

 

Stevens: “Frost steps to the side of Xero and hooks him under his left arm with a half nelson. He’s dragging Xero out a few steps….HALF NELSON BULLDOG!”

 

Frost sits up on the canvas and sneers at the fans. Xero lays unmoving on his face until Frost edges him over with both hands and covers.

 

ONE

 

 

 

 

TWO

 

 

 

 

THRE-

 

Stevens: “Shoulder up!”

 

Riley: “This is quite enough, where’s Williams to end this?”

 

Frost grumbles slightly, but stands up undaunted. He kicks Xero a few times in the stomach to soften him up more and pulls him to a standing position. Frost turns back to back with the grappler and snakes his arms around Xero’s to lift him off the mat and across his back in a crucifix.

 

Stevens: “Airplane spin!”

 

Frost smoothly wheels across the mat, making five perfect rotations and then lobs Xero off his back to go twisting and twirling like a pinwheel to the canvas. Frost takes three long strides over to his fallen foe and leaps into the air with a twist of his own and creams Xero with a legdrop. Frost turns over to cover and hooks the near leg.

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

THREE-

 

Stevens: “LEG ON THE ROPES! LEG ON THE ROPES!”

 

Riley: “Good God, get to the ‘working overtime’ part already guys. Where the hell is Danny?”

 

Frost slaps the mat three times to show Long how to do his job and then drags Xero away from the ropes and covers once more.

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

THREE-

 

Stevens: “NO! Frost gave Xero too much time to recover and he makes the solid kick out.”

 

Riley: “Take that last sentence and replace ‘solid’ with ‘weak-ass.’”

 

Frost cuts loose with a guttural bellow as he stands and drills a boot in Xero’s stomach.

 

Stevens: “Frost looks at a bit of a loss as what to do now. A man like Xero is very hard to put away.”

 

Riley: “I could have sworn Williams would have been out here by now. Besides, Frost hasn’t even brought out the heavy duty stuff yet.”

 

Frost roughly hoists Xero up and cinches him across his chest and under his arm. The dazed grappler throws a few limp elbows at Frost, but the big man shrugs them off with little affect and propels Xero across the ring to the near corner.

 

Stevens: “Frost was lining up the Ice Shelf, but Xero forced him to break and gets shoved back to the corner.”

 

Riley: “Replaced ‘forced’ with ‘annoyed with weak-ass elbows.’

 

Xero droops in the corner as Frost struts over to him and places a sweaty paw on his head. Xero fights back with a series of feeble forearms that don’t even back Frost up a hair. Frost turns back to front with his opponent and places his chin on his shoulder and snapmares him over. Xero sits dazed on the mat as Frost climbs up to the second turnbuckle and hops off with an elbow to the crown of his skull. Xero sways from the shot and collapses to his left. Frost pulls Xero out to the center ring by his ankles and then moves up to grab his knees.

 

Stevens: “Frost’s tilts Xero up by his knees…adjusts to grip him by the top of the thighs…STANDING SPINEBUSTER! THE COVER!”

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

 

THREE-

 

Stevens: “SHOULDER UP!”

 

Riley: “This is just getting ridiculous.”

 

Frost rises up to his knees and screams red faced in anger. He drops back down with a lateral press.

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

 

THREE-

 

Xero raises the shoulder and kicks out. Frost leans up for a second and tries another pin, remembering to hook the leg.

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

 

THREE-

 

Stevens: “Another kick out! Frost is giving Xero some quality time to recover as he tries to force the pin.”

 

Frost straddles Xero and reigns punches down into his face. Xero tries to block with his arms, but the pissed off Frost just keeps hammering away. Frost stands and rips the pummeled Xero up.

 

Stevens: “Frost lines the Ice Shelf up again, this should do it….”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Xero lifts his arms up and clamps them around Frost’s sinewy appendage. Xero falls to his knees and pulls to the left in pitching Frost over. The fans pop as Xero drapes himself over Frost while still holding the arm.

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

 

TH-

 

Stevens: “MODIFIED ARMBAR TAKEDOWN TO COUNTER THE ICE SHELF! Xero almost picked up the fluke pin!”

 

Riley: “Fluke pin is right! Frost was just flabbergasted that Xero is still fighting.”

 

Xero stumbles to his feet as Frost rises to one knee and tries to regroup. Xero sees his opportunity and shoots out a thrust kick. Frost catches the ankle and holds it. Xero hops up and down on his free leg twice to for a little oomph and flips head over heels to smash Frost in the chin with the tip of his boot.

 

Stevens: “Front flip enzuiguiri! Looks like Xero has taken a page out of Ash Ketchum’s book.”

 

Riley: “That’s smart.”

 

Xero lands on his feet and leans back into the ropes. He springs off and races toward Frost, he jumps into the air with a backflip, tucks in, folds out and…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Riley: “XERO EATS KNEES!”

 

Stevens: “The rolling frogsplash! Another trademark Ketchum move, but this one goes array.”

 

Riley: “Much like when Ash tries the dumb thing.”

 

Xero lurches around while doubled over and holding his bruised stomach. Frost rolls over and up to his knees as a strange chorus of cheers rifles through the crowd…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Riley: “IT’S…WAIT…THAT’S NOT DANNY WILLIAMS!”

 

Stevens: “IT’S ASH KETCHUM!”

 

Ketchum has seen enough from the back and charges down the entrance ramp for the ring, but he’s cut short by….

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Riley: “IT’S…WAIT…THAT’S NOT DANNY WILLIAMS EITHER!”

 

Stevens: “IT’S TNT!”

 

Thompson hurtles over the guardrail from out of nowhere. He waylays Ash with a flying clothesline and the two men collapse to the metal ramp in a pile of bruising fists and crushing forearms.

 

Stevens: “TNT was hiding out in the crowd for just such a scenario and the two men are wildly brawling on the ramp!”

 

Riley: “I must have been drinking, because this isn’t how I remember…”

 

Stevens: “SMALL PACKAGE IN THE RING!”

 

In the chaos, a desperate Xero musters all his strength to sucker a confused Frost with a small package.

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

 

THREE-

 

Riley: “FROST REVERSES!”

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

 

 

THREE-

 

No! Xero fidgets out and the two men break off and race up. Frost snags Xero by his wrist as they both stand and he whips the grappler into a short arm clothesline to send both of them smashing to the mat.

 

Stevens: “HELL FREEZES OVER!”

 

Riley: “GOOD GOD, TNT JUST SUPLEXED ASH ON THE RAMP!”

 

Frost and Xero both lie stunned in the ring while Taylor pulls Ketchum back up to him after the suplex. He slings Ash over his shoulder for a power slam, but an adrenalized Ketchum slips behind Thompson and waistlocks him.

 

Stevens: “German suplex on the ramp! Both men down out there! We need some officials out here to separate those two!”

 

Riley: “We need Deathwish!”

 

Frost jerks Xero up and secures him in a standing head scissors. He underhooks both arms and spins him up to is chest.

 

Riley: “EARLY WINTER!”

 

Stevens: “XERO BLOCKS!”

 

A groggy Xero squeezes his ankles together behind Frost’s head and wiggles out of his grip to rana the big man over, but Frost throws his weight back and stumbles into the corner to hold onto the ropes for dear life. Xero loosens his hold and barrel rolls off of Frost and to his feet. Fatal mistake…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Frost bolts out of the corner and hooks Xero across the chest and under his shoulder. In the same motion, Frost lifts Xero up and hammers him to the canvas!

 

Stevens: “ICE SHELF! ROLLUP! NO! FROST PUTS HIS FEET ON THE ROPES!”

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

 

 

THREE!

 

Long misses Frost’s feet on the ropes as he was watching Xero’s shoulders. Frost rolls to his right and to the floor. He rumbles up the ramp as Funyon makes his announcement.

 

FUNYON: “Here is your winner by pinfall… FRRRRRRRRRROOOOOOOOOSSSSSSSSST!”

 

Stevens: “Frost finally hits the Ice Shelf for the win and STILL cheats!”

 

Riley: “Damn digital editing.”

 

Ash makes his knees just as Frost reaches him with a knee lift. Xero rolls out of the ring and drops to the floor. He scavengers under the apron skirt as TNT and Frost work Ash over with kicks and punches.

 

Stevens: “Xero took a hell of a beating and in spite of everything, he’s still moving and looking to help out Ash Ketchum.”

 

Riley: “You cannot out scout CCBB, they have all the angles covered at all times.”

 

Stevens: “So, don’t try to out cheapshot the masters.”

 

Riley: “Exactly.”

 

Xero pulls a folding chair out from under the ring and staggers up the ramp waving it over his head. Frost and TNT are signaled by the fans’ roar and looks behind them to see the approaching Xero. Xero makes a wild swing with the chair and cracks Frost in the back. Frost reels from the blow as TNT grabs him by the arms and pulls him away up the ramp. Xero gives chase, with a disheveled Ash close on his heels with all four men disappearing behind the curtain.

 

Stevens: “This isn’t over by a long shot folks. Not only will it continue backstage, but might just continue until Genesis.”

 

Riley: “We’ll back live and with some new action right after this.”

[Guest BA_Baracus]

The camera zooms in on Tod deKindes, sitting angst-stricken in the X Force 9 locker room. He hears the door creak, looks up and sees the beautiful Sarah Leavenworth sashay in. Tod turns his head back down, still pissed about not getting his hands on Tom Flesher's US Title a week and a half ago.

 

"Hey Tod," she says. Tod grunts, barely acknowledging her presence. "Listen, I know you're in a funk, but I've got some good news for you."

 

"Good news?" asks Riley.

 

"Yes, Bobby, good news."

 

"I was talking to Stubby, and I managed to talk him into making one more eensy little concession for me. It's official, Tod... this Friday, September 13th, you've got your title match!"

 

Tod looks up, shocked. "Really? But what about Suicide King?"

 

"Oh," Sarah smiles, knowingly, "We found a way around him. Did you notice that the cloud around Stubby's office was... unusually thick tonight?" Tod grins. "And just to be sure, we sent the King some brownies." She clears her throat quickly. "But that's not the point, Tod. The point is that you have a match on Friday."

 

The fans in the arena pop, and Grand Slam Mark Stevens declares, "It's official! Tod deKindes is finally going to get his shot at Tom Flesher's US Title!"

 

Riley gulps. "Um... it's no big deal. Yeah, it's no big deal, Mark."

 

Sarah taps Tod on the shoulder. "Oh, and one more thing."

 

"What's that?"

 

"It's no DQ."

 

The arena crowd pops even louder. "No disqualification! What an opportunity for Tod deKindes!" says Stevens. "He's GOT to have the advantage here!" Riley just sighs nervously.

 

Sarah gets up and starts to move toward the door, then waves at Tod and leaves with a quick "Good luck!" Tod gets up, looking pumped despite his match being nearly a week away. He turns out into the main corridor and starts to move toward the Gorilla area, so he can watch the next match, when....

 

 

BAM! Out of nowhere, Tom Flesher nails him in the back of the head with the SWF US Title belt! Tod crumbles to the ground and Flesher immediately drops an elbow into the pit of his left knee. The Superior One grapevines Tod's legs and pulls them up, locking on the Superior Stretch! "What a bastard," yells Stevens, as Riley claps and cheers.

 

Flesher continues cranking the Superior Stretch as road agents Ted Flink, KJ Sanchez and Claire Kalem do their best to pull him off. After a few moments, Flesher finally releases the hold, and as the road agents escort him off, he waves and grins at Tod. "See you on Friday, little man!" says Flesher. Then, as he mutters "Fucking Nazi" under his breath, we...

[Guest BA_Baracus]

The Pied Piper of Wrestling has managed to lure every fan within a ten-mile radius to the Skyreach Centre as we return to SWF Smarkdown. The commercial break ends as the camera streams through a sea frantic flesh, throngs of ravished fans waiting for the next match up.

 

Stevens(booming): Hello and welcome back to SWF Smarkdown, I’m GrandSlam Mark Stevens sitting here ringside with Bobby Riley.

 

Riley: If you just tuned in, you couldn’t have come at a better time! Chris Wilson will takes on Ash Ketchum and Renegade from X-Force Nine!

 

"Figure 8" by Trust Company blasts through the arena speakers, prompting cheers from the sold out crowd. Repetitious green and white pyrotechnic explosions flank the stage as smoke momentarily fills the stage. The smoke dies down to show two visible figures. Renegade and Ash Ketchum make their way down the ramp, ready for action as they enthusiastically head for the ring.

 

Funyon: The following handicap match is scheduled for one fall and has no disqualification! Introducing first, at a combined weight of five hundred and eighteen pounds and representing X-Force-Nine…ASH KETCHUMMMM AND RRRENNEEGAAADE!

 

Stevens: Two of the still remaining members of X-Force-Nine making their way to the ring, ready to take on the evil genius that is Chris Wilson.

 

Riley: Dark Days for XF9, first M7 member The Boston Strangler retires Erek Taylor, now XF9 member Annie Eclectic turns her stable and joins the very stable she was allegedly against!

 

Ash and Renegade intrude the ring, climbing the turnbuckles and briefly posing for the crowd as before hoping down from the turnbuckles to get ready for action.

 

“Ah…Ah…Ah…Ah…Ah…Ah…Ah…”

 

An unascertained female voice murmurs delicately as St.Lunatics blasts from the speakers.

 

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

 

The words seep through the speakers as the arena lights are guillotined without warning. The arena is literally saturated with derision and scorn as the spotlights installed over the ramp transfigure to a grievous, heavy gloom of black. Multiple viscous clouds of smoke swim across the ramp as Chris Wilson emanates from backstage. Dressed in his custom attire from head to toe. Wilson slowly marches down the ramp.

 

Funyon: And their opponent, from Miami Florida and weighing in at two hundred and seventy pounds, he is the leader of the Magnificent Seven…CHRRRISSSS WILLLLSSSSON!

 

Stevens(cautiously): Sarah’s dab at the booking for this match does provide an advantage for X-Force-Nine, but with the stipulation being of no disqualification I cant help but think that Wilson will use it to all its worth.

 

Riley: That’s because he’s resourceful Stevens. One man, two men, even three men, Wilson will gain the upper hand one way or the other.

 

Wilson reaches the ring, suddenly stopping with a fixed gaze at seemingly nothing. By a look into his erratic dark eyes you can tell he has some non-negotiable thirst for a win tonight. Wilson violates the squared circle, impenetrable to the millions of insults being flung into his direction.

Renegade and Ash aren’t going to wait for a bell as they beat on Wilson the second his head is poked into the ring. Wilson is taken totally off guard as the ref calls for the bell before anything else can happen:

 

DING! DING! DING!

 

Still clothed in his out of ring attire, Ash and Renegade make a move on Wilson simultaneously, delivering the goods first hand with a bevy of punches coming from right and left. Wilson manages to pass in a couple of his own punches, but is promptly overpowered by the other two. Renegade and Ash seem to be thinking the same thing, as they pound Wilson into the turnbuckle, showing no mercy in the opening of the match. The executioners put the soles of their boots under Wilson’s neck, right into his Adams apple, squashing him into the post. Wilson’s head begins to slide down as Ash and Renegade anchor their arms on the neighbouring top ropes with both hands, ramming their boots into Wilson’s anatomy with rapid strikes to the gut and chest assaulting him like a pair of fierce primates.

 

Riley: Oh come on now! Let the man at least remove his out of ring attire!

 

Stevens: I doubt Wilson would have done anything different if he was given the chance.

 

Ash goes back a few paces with Renegade alongside him; they nod to each other as Renegade latches onto Wilson’s arm to pulls him up. With a quick flick of the wrist, Renegade whips Wilson towards Ash. Ash springs upwards, wrapping his legs around Wilson’s body. The sudden weight gain is too much for Wilson to handle as Ash flattens him down in a Lou Thesz Press. Ash starts to hammer down on Wilson’s face with a flood of punches in an energetic overload.

 

Stevens: Poke Ball Press! Renegade whipping Wilson into Ash’s Poke Ball Press! Ash Ketchum dishing out the punishment after Annie E and Wilson attacked LDP on Storm!

 

Ash backs off, leaving Wilson floored as Renegade quickly pulls Wilson up and stabs at his stomach with his patella. Wilson buckles over from the knee as Renegade darts out towards the ropes to gain velocity and WHAM! Renegade fires his knee outwards again, as his kneecap smashes across Wilson’s head. Wilson crumples to the mat again as Renegade covers:

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

Kick-out!

 

Stevens: Wilson kicks out of a double knee attack by Renegade!

 

Riley: Sure you leave a man clothed in a trenchcoat and expect him to wrestle in a handicap match, yeah that’s really even!

 

Renegade gradually pulls Wilson to his feet as Ash whips Wilson with minimum effort as Wilson is pelted towards the ropes. Ash stoops down to score on the rebound but Wilson comes running back and WHAM! Wilson’s boot is driven into Ash’s temple as Wilson takes an almighty shot to Ash’s stooped down body, making his temple a very accessible target. Renegade makes a dash towards Wilson before he can take advantage.

 

Wilson thrusts his right forward with his fingers drawn out, digging into Renegade’s eye socket with a poke to the eye. Renegade immediately withdraws as he screens his face with his hands, as a sharp stinging discomfort flows through his right eye. Wilson takes a trip to the ropes and BAM! With both arms erected, Wilson takes both men down with a double clothesline. Wilson uses this time too finally remove his Oakleys, gloves and Trenchcoat, tossing them to the outside.

 

Riley: Now we’re talking, Wilson is NOW ready to go!

 

Stevens: Wilson stunning Ash then Renegade and tops it off with a double clothesline!

 

 

Wilson picks Renegade up and whips him to the turnbuckle. Wilson sprints after him as he leaps into the air with a splash. Renegade moves away at the last possible second as Wilson hits the turnbuckle pads. Wilson staggers back as Ash flings his leg out from the other side of the ring. Ash catches Wilson in the jaw, sending him down to the mat in a hook kick. Ash paces to the ropes, rebounding back as Ash makes a barrel roll, inching himself closer and closer to Wilson’s body. Ash uses the given momentum from the roll to spring up to the air, and comes soaring down, connecting bodies with a low altitude frogsplash. Wilson’s body twitches like a frog in a science experience experiment. Ash makes the cover:

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

Wilson kicks out!

 

Stevens: Rolling five star frogsplash gets two! Wilson misses the body splash leaving him prone to a hook kick by Ash!

 

Riley: Don’t worry, Wilson never makes the same mistake twice!

 

Before Ash can pull Wilson up, Wilson rolls to the outside, sliding under the bottom rope. Wilson tries to regroup as Renegade follows. Renegade slides under the ring and grabs a dazed Wilson by hair and hurls his face into the steps. Wilson’s head makes full contact as Renegade latches onto Wilson by the hand and whips him in the direction of the ring post on the outside, but Wilson reverses, spewing a change of pace and BONG! Renegade’s head is almost taken clean off as Wilson hurls him into the post with fierce live relief.

 

Stevens: Did you hear the sonorous effect of Renegade’s head rattling against the ring post? Wilson buys some more time with a whip into the steel post.

 

Riley: Now that’s what I’m talking about, Wilson waits for Renegade to whip him and at the exact right time Wilson side-steps to counter it!

 

Wilson tries to take a quick breath as he rests his back over the security railings. Out of nowhere Ash escalates with a diving lariat catching Wilson by the neck, causing Wilson to flip over the guard-rail to the floor in the crowd. Before you can say “Hey lets run up and reach out for Wilson now that he’s behind the rail”, an assemblage of burly security guards scramble to move the crowd seated near Wilson’s crash zone and to keep the crowd seated anywhere near there. Ash floats over the railings and pulls his body back as Wilson raises. Ash makes a dash towards Wilson, but Wilson suddenly shoots his leg outward towards Ash’s face. Wilson’s boot smacks right under Ash’s jaw in a superkick, causing Ash to fall retrogressively. The crowd behind him runs in fear of a two hundred and fifty nine pound man from falling on top of them as Ash falls and CLANG! Ash’s body connects into a cluster of vacated steel chairs. Those people might have lost their seats, but they still seem sanguine as they kick off a “HOLY-SH*T” chant. Ash is riddled with all sorts of hurting now as Wilson takes this time for a few revitalizing breaths.

 

Stevens: Ash was just superkicked onto a cluster of chairs! Both XF9 members are down and out!

 

Riley(with much joy): Wilson knowing the no DQ stipulation probably set this up the whole time!

 

Wilson climbs back over the railings and reaches out for Renegade who is out on the arena floor. Wilson rams Renegade’s head into the apron before flinging him under the bottom rope. Wilson makes the cover:

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

T- Shoulder up!

 

Wilson starts to drive to the sole of his boot through Renegade’s chest as he unleashes a bombardment of stomps with inspiring lunacy, stomping, plodding and trampling all over Renegade’s bones. Wilson picks Renegade up and whips him to the ropes. Renegade bounces off as Wilson stoops down to scoop Renegade up, but just before collision, Renegade jumps upwards with his knee sticking out, and slings his arm over Wilson’s neck. This pulls Wilson’s face down, as Renegade punctures Wilson’s face and crushes it with his knee. Wilson totters back as Renegade laps up the chance and scores with a kick to the abdomen. Wilson buckles over as Renegade knots his arm around Wilson’s neck, going for a DDT. Wilson suddenly elevates Renegade into the air, lifting Renegade up and countering the DDT attempt into a northern lights suplex. Wilson keeps his back bridged to ensure a pin:

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

TH- Kickout!

 

Stevens: Renegade getting a brief comeback with a facecrusher, but Wilson thwarts a DDT attempt with a northern lights suplex!

 

Riley: That’s Divide and conquer Stevens. Wilson first makes sure Ash is takes out for long enough before targeting Renegade, knowing Ash won’t be around to break up the pin.

 

Wilson slowly raises Renegade up to his feet as he uncurls his closed fist and…

 

“WHOOO!”

 

Wilson slices his hand across Renegade’s chest in a knife-edge chop, using his hand like a lethally accurate weapon. Renegade totters back from the impact as Wilson withdraws his arm once again and…

 

“WHOOO!”

 

Renegade reels back into the turnbuckle as Wilson comes charging through. Wilson bolts towards Renegade and crushes Renegade into the turnbuckle with a body splash. Renegade is mangled into the mat as Wilson covers again:

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

THR- Shoulder up!

 

Stevens: Wilson connects with a Stinger splash, pulverizing Renegade into the turnbuckles and so far this battle seems pretty one sided to me!

 

Riley: Honestly were you expecting anything else?

 

Wilson leans forward, reaching out for Renegade’s hair as Ash has slowly managed to recover and slides back into the ring. Ash sneaks behind Wilson and pulls at Wilson’s legs, uprooting him from the mat, pinning him on his shoulders in a rollup.

 

Stevens: Ash with the surprise roll up! Wilson didn’t see it coming as Ash sneaks into the ring and rolls Wilson up!

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

TH- Kickout!

 

With a struggle, both men race to their feet. Ash heaves upwards with his fist swinging right under Wilson’s jaw, smashing his teeth together with an almighty uppercut. Wilson falters back, but manages to throw in a punch, but is clamped down by Ash, who grips his arms over Wilson’s neck and jumps down to his knees in a sit-down jawbreaker. Wilson falters back as Ash pitches his arm out and catches Wilson by the neck. Ash tenses his hand, pushing his fingers deeper and deeper around Wilson’s exposed throat in a chokehold. The crowd explodes as Ash prepares to do the unthinkable…chokeslam Chris Wilson!

 

Stevens: ASH GOING FOR A CHOKESLAM!

 

Riley: Um…what is he thinking? Is he that dumb?

 

Ash and Wilson struggle for position, rocking back and forth until Wilson lands an elbow into the side of Ash’s neck, causing Ash to shrug off. Ash drunkenly stammers back from the impact with his front towards his opponent, as Wilson coils his left arm over Ash’s left right shoulder. Wilson lightly wraps his free arm over Ash’s right arm.

 

Stevens: LAST RESORT! WILSON GOING FOR THE LAST RESORT!

 

Riley: Thank God for that, I was starting to worry there.

 

Wilson prepares to submerge to complete the downward spiral and WHAM! Wilson’s head hits the canvas hard as Renegade darts out with both arms open, catching Wilson by the waist bulldozing him down in a spear, making the save. Ash climbs the turnbuckle as Renegade drags Wilson’s body towards the corner, setting him in place. Renegade paces to the ropes and dashes towards Wilson’s downed body. Renegade pounces forward, sticking both legs out in a leg drop. At the same time Ash hurdles off the top rope, as he reaches the highest point, Ash tucks his arms and legs close to his body, right before collision as Ash pulls them outwards in a five-star frogsplash. Renegade drops a legdrop onto Wilson’s windpipe as Ash lands a frogsplash onto Wilson’s chest, causing thousands of camera flashes to off through the arena.

 

Stevens: RENEGADE AND ASH DOUBLE TEAM WILSON WITH A LEG DROP AND THE SNORLAX SPLASH! AMAZING!

 

Riley: Calm down, no need to shout, I’m sitting right next to you!

 

Ash covers Wilson as the ref counts:

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

THRE- NO! Somehow Wilson collects enough energy to kick out! The crowd gasps collectively as Ash and Gade are a little shocked by the count!

 

Stevens: God damn! Nearly had him there!

 

Riley: I nearly shit my pants in fear that Ash Ketchum and Renegade beat the amazing Chris Wilson!

 

As Ketchum and Gade grab Wilson, pulling him to his feet, the true inner demon that is Chris Wilson erupts, and Wilson begins to fire away with right and left hand punches that land in the faces of both men, who stagger back as a result of the blows. Ketchum and Renegade are stunned by the sudden explosion from Wilson that he quickly grabs both of their arms, and digging deep down inside, he whips both men to the ropes, which they hit and bounce back off of. As XF9 flies back at Wilson, both arms fly out and smash into the chins and/or faces of Ash Ketchum and Renegade with a double clothesline! Both men tumble to the mat, Ash getting up quicker than his partner, and thus, feeling the brunt of the impact of what is to come. Wilson grabs Ash’s arms, whipping him wildly to the ropes, and on the rebound, Wilson leaps sideways into the air, leg extended as he nails Ash Booker T-style with a gigantic sidekick that drops him to the mat! Quickly, Wilson follows suit, but instead of falling over, he drops on top of Ash and hooks his leg for a pinning attempt!

 

Stevens: MIAMI SIDEKICK!! Wilson has come alive! Here’s the cover!

 

One…

 

Two…

 

Ash kicks out! Wilson might have expected this, as he is quite in his action to pick Ash up and punch Ash in the face, but as he turns around, he nearly bumps into Renegade, who reaches out to grab him around the head!

 

Stevens: Wilson forgot all about Gade, and maybe, this is where he could pay for it!

 

Wilson pulls his body back, missing Gade’s grasp, and kicking Gade in the gut, forces him to bend over forward. Wilson then hooks Gade’s arms and falls onto his back, DDTing Gade into the mat with a DDT! Gade remains down as Wilson rolls him over, getting to his feet, but before he can pin Gade, he must take care of Ash. And doing so, he turns around and repeats the process on Ash: the kick to the stomach, the hook of the arms, the falling back onto the mat, the DDTing of an opponent into the canvas, and the rolling over for the pin. As Wilson prepares to pin Ash, though, he realizes that Ash and Gade’s heads are inches apart from each other, perfect for a double pinning attempt. Wilson figures out what to do next as he stand on his feet, runs for the ropes, bouncing off them, and on the rebound, leaps into the air, a leg each landing across the throats of Ash and Gade as Wilson hits a major leg drop, remaining sitting down as he p[ins both men to the mat!

 

Stevens: Wilson continues to add the damage on-

 

Riley: DOUBLE ARM DDT TO GADE! DOUBLE ARM DDT TO ASH! LEG DROP ON BOTH MEN! HERE’S THE DOUBLE COVER!

 

One…

 

Two…

 

THREE!!!

 

 

 

 

NO! SIMULTANEOUSLY, GADE AND ASH BOTH KICK OUT! THE CROWD GOES NUTS AS WILSON ARGUES WITH THE REFEREE, INSISTING HE HAD THE THREE COUNT!

 

Stevens: I thought Wilson had those two! It was so close!

 

Riley: You’re telling me!

 

The two begin to stir around a little bit, and soon, it’s back to work for Wilson as he grabs Renegade, slowly pulling him up and nearly dropping him as he gets onto his feet. With a quick whip, Gade goes flying to the ropes and back, and as he returns, Wilson jumps into the air, jamming his knee into Gade’s face like Triple H with a flying knee jump, the “Rocka Rim” Flying Knee! Gade goes down quick and hard, grabbing his head in pain as Ash Ketchum takes his turn to get up, and Wilson turns abruptly around, sprinting off at Ash and tackling him to the mat with a basic spear, knocking Ash hard onto his back. Ketchum cries out in pain as he lands hard on his back, but Wilson quickly covers Ash, attempting yet another pin-fall attempt!

 

One…

 

 

Two…

 

 

THREE-NO! KETCHUM GETS THE SHOULDER UP! The crowd goes nuts as Wilson just completely ignores Ash and begins to get up, something else on his mind.

 

Stevens: What’s Wilson planning now?

 

Riley: XF9’s funeral, dumbass!

 

As Wilson gets up after the pinning attempt he yells at Funyon for his chair, and not wanting to be at the end of an M7 attack, a fear-filled Funyon relinquishes the chair to Wilson, even walking up to personally give him the chair!

 

Riley: Look at the fear Wilson instills in everyone! The fans, the wrestlers, even the ring announcers, and hell, EVEN ME!

 

Stevens: He’s turning around-By God! He’s gonna smash that chair over someone’s head!

 

Riley: Good observation, jackass. I was expecting him to just sit down and read up poetry for the next 20 minutes. Sheesh, Stevens. You sound more like Michael Cole every day…

 

As Ketchum rises to his feet, Wilson draws the chair over his head, and with lightning precision and speed-” CLANK!”-Once-”CLANK!”-Twice-”CLANK!”-Three times a chair shot to Ash’s head Wilson delivers, sending Ketchum to the canvas in a heap. Ash’s semi-conscious body rests on the floor as slowly, he tries to get up, but Wilson does nothing short of coiling his left arm over Ash’s left right shoulder. Wilson lightly wraps his free arm over Ash’s right arm as he falls back and slams Ash hard into the mat with a downward spiral, slamming Ash onto his chest!

 

Stevens: LAST RESORT! LAST RESORT! WILSON HITS THE LAST RESORT!

 

 

ONE!!!

 

Riley: AW HELL YEAH!

 

TWO!!!

 

Riley: AW FUCK YEAH!

 

THREE!!!

 

 

Riley: GOODNIGHT!

 

 

NO!!!! RENEGADE BREAKS UP THE THREE-COUNT WITH A STOMP!

 

As Wilson climbs to his feet, Renegade spins around, attempting a spinning lariat, but as he spins, Wilson catches him under the arms, wrapping him in a painful Full Nelson, grapsing Gade’s legs in a double STF hold, Gade screaming in pain as his partner lies down on the mat, Wilson pulling back. Gade can’t reach out for the ropes, and he is about to give up, when suddenly, through the crowd...

 

Stevens: DIVEFIRE! DIVEFIRE’S IN DA HOUSE, AND HE’S BRANDISHING A STEEL CHAIR!

 

Riley: This is gonna suck...

 

Divefire hops the railing and slides under the ropes as Gade is about to give, up, lifting the chair into the air, and quickly-”CLANK!”-slamming the steel chair into Wilson’s back to break the hold, Wilson releasing the double STF as he cries out in pain! The ref gets between the chair and Wilson as he checks on Gade, but Wilson refuses to release the full neslon as he slowly attempts to get onto his feet, the crowd both cheering for Divefire and booing at Wilson.

 

Stevens: Gade is gonna pass out soon from that Full Nelson hold! One false move and his neck is as good as broken!

 

Wilson holds onto the Full Nelson hold as he gets up, hooking Gade’s leg as he leans back, preparing to drop forward and throw Gade into the Platinum Nightmare, a Full-nelson into the Stroke, but before Chris Wilson is able to fall forward and drop Renegade down for what should be the end of the match, Gade grasps Wilson around the head in a 3/4 facelock, falling back as his arms break out of the full nelson hold and hits the mat, countering into a quick 3/4 facelock bulldog, the Renebreak! In the corner, none other than Divefire helps the seemingly unconscious Ash Ketchum to his feet as Gade lies on his back from the move, too exhausted to turn onto his chest and make a coverm but luckily, he has help, help who is slowly being helped to his feet and helped onto the turnbuckle, nearly falling over.

 

Stevens: WHAT A TURN OF EVENTS! WILSON IS DOWN! RENEGADE IS DOWN! ASH KETCHUM MAY BE THE KEY TO THIS MATCH!

 

Riley: Jesus, Stevens, don’t bust a nut at the annoucing table! Lynn would be quite pissed is you did! How will she explain it to the kids at home? How will she tell little Christopher in 10 years that his dad blew his load on national TV? How will he respond to that? Will he like that?

 

Stevens: Bobby Riley... you are one sick man...

 

Riley: Thank you. I learned from the best. And by the best I mean Chris Wilson of course!

 

Stevens: Oh God... *sigh* Why am I stuck with you, Bobby Riley? Why am I stuck with you?

 

Wilson remains down as Ash is assisted to the top rope, slowlyturning around as he reaches the top. Wilson’s beaten the shit out of him, but revenge is on it’s way from above. And with that, he makes his split-finger “V” sign and leaps form the top rope in obvious pain. He spins in the air, flying into a Shooting Star Press, but just as it looks like his chest is about to hit Wilson’s, he pulls his body around an additional 30 degrees, slamming his knees into Wilson’s chest with a Shooting Star Knee Drop! The sheer force of the move knocks him forward onto Chris’s body, covering his chest as he subconsciously pins Wilson to the mat!

 

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

 

One...

 

Riley: Aw, hell no...

 

Two...

 

Riley: Aw, fuck NO!

 

THREE!!!

 

DING DING DING! ASH AND RENEGADE PULL OFF THE UPSET AND THE CROWD GOES WILD!

 

Funyon: Your winners... RENEGADE AND ASH KETCHUMMMMMMMMMM!!!

 

As the post-match cheering begins, Divefire rolls Ash off of Wilson. XF9’s part is done. Now it is his turn to have fun. And so, with that steel chair rising above his head, Divefire slams it down into Chris Wilson’s back, causing Wilson to let out an crowd-shocking cry of pain, screaming as Divefire once more slams it into Wilson’s back with a “CLANK!”. But just as the mastermind behind M7 gets a taste of his own medicine...

 

Stevens: FROST! FROST IS ON HIS WAY DOWN HERE TO SAVE HIS LEADER!

 

Riley: HOORAY! NOW DIVEFIRE WILL GET HIS!

 

The Frozen One charges down the ramp, speeding toward Divefire, and sliding under the bottom rope, he pops onto his feet, ready to do battle with Divefire!

 

 

 

“CLANK!”

 

 

 

Or not.

 

Divefire nails Frost with a chair shot, but the big man remains standing.

 

“CLANK!”

 

Not for long. Divefire’s second shot knocks him to the canvas, and after that, Frost decides to exit the ring and go get reinforcements. Divefire remains standing in the ring as Frost rolls under the bottom rope and out of the ring, the crowd on their feet cheering.

 

Riley: Well, this sucks. Wilson’s in the ring alone, and no one can save him!

 

Stevens: I think he’s about to get just what he deserves!

 

Divefire turns around to find... no one. Wilson has dissapeared! Perhaps he has rolled out of the ring and is hiding under the apron. Perhaps he has gotten up and walked off. Perhaps he poofed out a cloud of smoke and teleported himself to another dimension. But the fact that everyone was watching Frost and Divefire has allowed Wilson to sneak away. Divefire, the comm

 

Stevens: Where’d Wilson go? Where the hell is he hiding?

 

Riley: He can’t hide forever, as he will face Divefire at Genesis 3, in what could be his final match. But even I don’t know where Wilson is...

[Guest BA_Baracus]

“Ugh… when can we get out of this stinkin’ country?” Riley grumbles as we fade back in to the Skyreach Centre… the filthy Canadian masses are at it again, assault Funyon for his inactivity during the commercial break… Poor Funyon can only sit there in his tuxedo, smile, and ignore the beer can that just bounced off his head.

 

“Our Canadian tour ends soon, dear friend,” Stevens says in a consoling voice, praying that his words were true. “But next, we’ve got a real doozy of a big man match. Conspiracy-man Chris Raynor takes on the Magnificent Seven’s Explooooooosive TNT!”

 

The house lights go down, down, down into darkness, and “The Grudge” rattles the stage and whips the fans into a negative frenzy! A thin layer of smoke floats through the entryway, illuminated by the strobing white stage lights, lending an ominous mood to the scene as Chris Raynor swipes the curtain aside and steps out into view… Raynor looks out into fans, a look of arrogant disdain - “How can they boo ME?!” he seems to be asking, though he keeps his mouth shut, as he walks down the ramp towards the ring.

 

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

 

Raynor jogs the last few feet and slides in under the ropes and rolls to his feet. He heads to the nearest corner and mounts the second rope, poses, and gets only “BOOOO!” in response.

 

“Don’t listen to ‘em, Raynor!” shouts Riley. “They’re Canadian! They don’t know anything!”

 

Chris just scowls at the heathens in the stands, then falls back off the rope and begins pacing in the ring…

 

“Oy!”

 

“Oy!”

 

“Oy!”

 

“Oy!”

 

“TNT”, both the song and the man, come rambling out to just about as harsh a reaction from the crowd. A well timed dual-middle finger gets a few children in the front row to cry as Taylor strolls down the ramp, a confident smirk on his face and a tag title belt over his shoulder.

 

“His opponent, from Anaheim, Californiaaa… weighing in at two hundred and sixty-seven pounds…. Teeee-Ennnnn-Teeeeeee!”

 

Taylor opts to enter via the stairs, taking his own sweet time strutting up each and every step very…

 

… very…

 

… slowly…

 

“And this,” Mark says, “has got to be eating Raynor alive. We heard his rants, ludicrous as they may be, about how he deserves to be in the main event, and he’s been fighting through the Magnificent Seven’s lackeys for a while now.”

 

“You dare to-”

 

“No,” Stevens cuts Riley off, “that is NOT a knock on TNT. TNT is a phenomenal athlete, but I don’t think he’s quite the caliber of an Edwin, a Magnifico, a Wilson, and those are the people Raynor wants right now.”

 

TNT polishes the faceplate of his belt before handing it off to a ringside assistance, then swings his feet over the ropes and takes a slow stroll out to the center of the ring. Kivell signals for the bell and gets ready.

 

*DING DING DING*

 

Raynor quickly steps out to meet TNT, and the two get face to face, or as close as guys who are two inches apart can get. Words are exchanged, and while we can’t hear them, a decent camera allows TNT’s lips to be read saying “Little man” just before Raynor clocks him in the mouth with a right hand! Taylor takes a step back, obviously a little stunned, but he quickly puts his game face back on. He puts a hand up to his mouth, checking for blood-

 

-then fires that hand back into Raynor’s eye! Raynor stumbles back, covering the eye, but TNT grabs his arm and powerfully throws him into the ropes. Raynor comes rocketing back and is dropped really quick with-

 

“-an absolutely explosive clothesline, no pun intended!” shouts Mark. “He nearly flipped Raynor over, and Raynor’s no light-heavyweight!”

 

Raynor stumbles to his feet, knees a’wobbling, so TNT takes him by the arm and Irish Whips him chest-first into the corner with incredible force! Raynor smashes into the turnbuckle, and the recoil sends him falling hard on his back!

 

Riley tries to come up with the words to describe the horrifying impact:

 

“Oof.”

 

“Well put, Bobby.”

 

TNT steps over and grabs Raynor by the hair and yanks him with unnecessary force up to his feet, then gives him a light shove into the corner. He puts an arm on the ropes, one on either side of Raynor, then looks at the crowd, some of whom…

 

“… are cheering?” Mark asks, a little befuddled.

 

“Those damn Canadians,” Riley responds. “They just HAVE to cheer for someone. Can’t sit down and just enjoy two of the best in the business having a match.”

 

… then he drives his knee hard into Raynor’s midsection, lifting Raynor a good six inches off the mat! The ex-Carny falls back into the corner and doubles over, but Taylor uses one hand to hold him upright and knees him in the stomach again! This time TNT steps aside, letting Raynor slowly stumble out of the corner for a few steps, the collapse to the canvas in the middle of the ring.

 

“What a gentleman!”

 

“Uh… yea, Riley.”

 

TNT takes a rest in the corner, looking down at his opponent and smirking yet again. The fans aren’t exactly on the edge of their seat as Taylor steps out to continue the assault on Raynor, who’s up to his knees-

 

-Raynor quickly stands and pivots, and drives a horrendously illegal closed fist into TNT’s jaw! The crowd pops for that, if only because-

 

“-TNT may have just lost a tooth from that shot!” cries Mark.

 

“Is there a dentist in the house?” Riley pleads. “This is an emergency!”

 

Taylor is driven all the way back to the corner, where he cradles his poor jaw. He tongues the inside of his mouth, and breaths a sigh of relief when he finds not a single tooth missing-

 

*SQUISH*

 

Raynor splashes him from behind, and TNT is crushed between the flying 250 pound man and the steel post! As you can probably guess, the results are not pretty - TNT stumbles backwards out of the corner, so Raynor quickly steps to his side, intertwines their legs, and hits a forward legsweep! He rolls Taylor over for a cover!

 

ONE!

 

T- Taylor presses Raynor a foot in the air and tosses him off!

 

“Wow,” Mark pontificates. “Just… wow.”

 

Raynor quickly rolls to his feet as Taylor clambers up to his, and as the Explosive one gets to a standing position, Raynor grabs his left arm and wrings it one whole turn around. As TNT puts his free hand to the hurting shoulder, Raynor moves behind him and kicks him in the back of the knee, giving himself more leverage.

 

“Excellent strategy from Raynor - it’s not often he finds somebody bigger than himself, and Taylor can wrestle a variety of styles, so Raynor’s got to keep this match’s pace his own.”

 

The camera suddenly cuts to Riley, who says “For our Canadian viewers, I will translate: Raynor’s strategy = good.”

 

“Thanks, Bobby.”

 

“My pleasure.”

 

TNT slowly makes it up to one foot, but as he rises on his second Raynor kicks another field goal into it, and the big man falls down again. Raynor yanks back on the arm, and TNT yelps as he frantically swipes for the ropes with his free hand. He begins scooting on his knees, inching closer and closer…

 

“… and he makes the ropes! Raynor has to release the hold.”

 

“Where did that rule come from, anyway?” asks Riley. “Kinda dumb if you asked me. Let the guy get out of the submission himself.”

 

“That’s a decent question, Riley. I’ll look it up some time.”

 

Raynor waits until the ref’s count hits four before he releases TNT’s arm and steps away to let TNT up to his feet. Taylor gets up after a few seconds, with the ropes, and he turns around and walks straight into a scoop-up from Raynor. Visibly straining under the massive amount of weight, he manages to carry Taylor over to the corner and drape his legs over the top rope, hanging him upside down!

 

“And we know what’s coming now,” says Mark, as the boos begin to swell in the background. Raynor takes a step back, to recover a little strength, then he steps in and fires away at TNT’s exposed midsection!

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

THREE!

 

FOUR!

 

FIVE!

 

SIX!

 

SEVEN!

 

EIGHT!

 

NINE!

 

TEN!

 

Then Raynor grabs TNT’s leg and yanks him back into the ring, and Taylor falls into a heap on the mat. Raynor looks out at the crowd, an angry look on his face from the fact that they didn’t count along like they used to…

 

“Maybe they just can’t count to ten,” suggests Riley…

 

“Maybe, Riley… but in any case, it looks like Raynor’s having his way with TNT now.”

 

Raynor takes a long circle around the ring, collecting his thoughts, while Taylor remains down in the corner. After a few moments, he rolls over onto his stomach and puts one arm to it, to protect it, and grabs the middle rope with his other arm. He makes it to one knee before Raynor steps up and violently plants a foot into the side of his face, just for kicks (pun intended), then drags him up and away from the ropes, and wrings him arm behind him again, and-

 

“-another kick to the knee! Raynor seems to be focusing on the arm of TNT - perhaps to help with The Grudge?

 

“Maybe, Mark. By the time the end of this match comes around, I don’t know if he’ll be able to lift Taylor up for the Acid Rayn.”

 

Taylor’s free arm now alternates between holding his hurting shoulder, covering his now pained knee, and flailing out for the ropes again. Raynor violently pulls back on Taylor’s arm, and plants his feet firmly on the mat, determined not to give TNT an inch of leeway.

 

“It doesn’t look like TNT’s got many options here- wait a sec!”

 

Taylor leans down, putting more pressure on his arm but giving himself leverage to slide his left leg out next to Raynor’s! He quickly crooks his leg around Raynor’s foot and pulls in, and Raynor is dropped straight on his ass, and he releases the hold! TNT quickly rolls to the ropes and pulls himself up, but again begins favoring his arm, giving Raynor time to get back to his feet as well. Raynor rubs his sore tailbone, then stalks towards TNT-

 

*BAM*

 

“Good LORD!” shouts Mark, as the crowd actually pops for a simple right hand. “Are these guys trying to one up on punches or something? They just keep getting harder and harder!”

 

Raynor is sent stumbling back and actually down to his knees for a moment as he cradles his jaw… he growls, then leaps to his feet and heads back to TNT, throws a fist of his own-

 

Blocked! TNT grabs Raynor’s fist and stops it, then plants a second punch of his own on the Ex-Carny’s kisser!

 

“TNT is battling back!” shouts Mark, and a few fans attempt to cheer him on, but they’re painfully outnumbered. Raynor swings another right hand, but TNT blocks it and connects with another one of his own, that rocks the ex-Carny hard! Taylor stands on his own power now, and fires off more right hands, a half-dozen shots then send Raynor fleeing to the ropes!

 

Bad move.

 

Raynor falls into the ropes to collect his wits, then turns around and is taken right over the top to the outside with a Cactus Clothesline! TNT goes out as well, but manages to land on his feet.

 

“And, uh…” Mark is getting a little nervous. “They’ve conveniently landed right in front of us, it seems.”

 

“Come on!” shouts the ref, “Get back in, get ‘em back in!”, but TNT is too busy planning his next move to notice or care. He grabs a rising Raynor by his hair and pulls him to his feet, then leads him…

 

“What the hell, man?” Riley says as he stands up and moves away from the table. “Are wrestlers magnetically drawn to announce booths or something?”

 

“I dunno,” Mark responds as he follows suit, “but in any case it does seem to be a choice weapon.”

 

TNT scoops Raynor up, then searches deep down for strength…

 

… and finds it - he heaves Raynor up in the air, tossing him at least a few feet up, then he steps back as Raynor’s body hits the mats and his head snaps off the desk! The crowd “Ooh’s” and “Aah’s” for the gratuitous violence, and TNT mockingly bows for their approval. He then picks Raynor, who’s lack of movement is disturbing, up off the floor and begins dragging him around ringside.

 

“Well that was just mean,” says Riley as he sits back down.

 

“And I’m sure he feels awful about it,” Mark responds.

 

Taylor stops and scoops Raynor up again, this time standing next to the steel stairs. Again, he manages to throw Raynor straight up quite a bit, then he watches Raynor’s head snap against the stairs and bounce off with a hollow *THUD*.

 

“EIGHT!”

 

Eight?… oh! The count! TNT quickly rolls in under the ropes and then back out, breaking the referee’s count. He takes Raynor up by the arm and stands him upright - no small feat, as Raynor seems intent on falling over - then takes a few steps back and whips Raynor hard towards the-

 

-no, it’s reversed! Raynor pulls forth all the power he can muster and he instead sends TNT flying towards the steel post-

 

*THOONK*

 

“-right into that shoulder again!” cries Mark, as the crowd now “Ooh’s” and “Aah’s” yet again. Raynor drops to his knees, opting to catch his breath rather than follow up. Across the floor, TNT is wincing, cursing, holding the shoulder and trying to find the strength to get to his feet. Nothing doing, at the moment. Raynor gets to his feet and begins to hobble over toward his prey. He kicks TNT in the bad shoulder, knocking him back down to the mats, then begins stomping on it repeatedly.

 

“SEVEN!”

 

Seven? What seven?… The count! Raynor suddenly gets it and dives back in under the ropes to break it. He then rolls back out and grabs TNT by the arm and rolls him into the ring. Taylor begins crawling away on his knees, using one arm to cover the other, but Raynor quickly follows him in, runs after him, and drops an elbow across the back of his head, smashing his face down into the canvas. He takes ahold of Taylor’s hair and jerks him up to his feet, then grabs TNT’s arms and wraps them around his neck-

 

*FWOOSH*

 

*THUD*

 

-and TNT flips Raynor right over his head! Raynor releases Taylor’s arms and laments his again-tortured tailbone as he clambers up to his feet and falls into the ropes for a moment. TNT favors his shoulder, and Raynor sees this and makes the blind charge-

 

-but TNT turns his good arm toward Raynor and scoops him up, spins him around, Sidewalk Slam!

 

“Into the cover!” Mark shouts, “One! Two! T- Raynor just gets the shoulder up!”

 

Raynor pops to his feet quickly, but ends up stumbling around like a drunk, and it’s fairly obvious he has no idea what’s going on. TNT backs into the ropes and comes running off, and he clubs Raynor upside the head with a forearm! Raynor’s almost tripping over his own two feet as Taylor runs back into the ropes, comes back again, *BAM*, forearm number two! Raynor drops to one knee and tries to pick himself up as TNT makes a third trip to the ropes, and this time-

 

“-BEHEADING Raynor with a clothesline!”

 

The ex-Carny lies perfectly flat on his back, save for the occasional twitch, as TNT climbs to his feet. He falls into the ropes, tired out from the assault, but upon seeing his enemy down, he stumbles for the nearest corner and steps through the ropes.

 

“TNT is calling for Shell Shock,” says Mark.

 

“Wasn’t that from the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles?”

 

“… It frightens me that you know this, Riley.”

 

Taylor takes his time getting up the first turnbuckle, the second, and finally up to the top. He steadies himself on the top rope and looks down to find Raynor still lying flat. He puts his good arm out and takes a leap of faith…

 

“Shellshock attemp aaaaaaand- Nobody home!” Mark abruptly changes tones. “Raynor rolled out of the way!”

 

“Probably not the desired effect of the move, Mark.”

 

“Probably not, Riley.”

 

TNT rolls a few times before coming to a rest on his stomach, now favoring his other shoulder, as Raynor ends up on his back, again not moving.

 

ONE!

 

“The referee utilizing the ten count…”

 

“Why do we always say ‘utilizing the ten count’?“ Riley asks. “Are we on a script or something?”

 

TWO!

 

“Sometimes we say ‘exercising’…” offers Mark.

 

THREE!

 

“But those are big words. Why not ‘The referee is counting to ten’?”

 

FOUR!

 

“Because we assume our audience isn’t stupid, Bobby.”

 

FIVE!

 

Raynor’s begun the arduous task of rolling to the ropes… slow going, at the moment. TNT meanwhile is across the ring, and has managed to grab the middle rope with the better arm…

 

SIX!

 

SEVEN!

 

TNT pulls himself up to one knee, wincing all the way. Raynor’s managed to get both arms around the top turnbuckle in a corner, and is trying to pull himself up.

 

EIGHT!

 

Taylor exerts a might “RRAGH!” and with a sudden burst he pulls himself up to both feet. He nearly falls over again, but manages to hang on to the ropes. Raynor’s pulling himself straight up, not trying to get to his knees, just right up to his feet-

 

NINE!

 

-and he does! The referee stops his count! Raynor is facing the crowd in the corner, too comfortable at the moment to try and turn around, which is pretty stupid considering-

 

“-TNT is coming right up behind him!”

 

“SHH! Don’t spoil it, Stevens!”

 

TNT puts his massive hand on Raynor’s shoulder and spins him around-

 

*BAM*

 

“That ball is OUT OF HERE!” shouts Mark, eliciting a groan from Riley. TNT is rocked back a few feet from the punch, and Raynor begins stalking out of his corner towards him. TNT tries to get a hand up, but it’s not in time, and Raynor lands a second blow! A third! He takes TNT’s arm and whips him into the ropes-

 

“-… and he telegraphs the backdrop!”

 

TNT stops a foot in front of Raynor and waits. Raynor slowly looks up after realizing that this isn’t going to work-

 

Kick to the gut! TNT jerks Raynor forward, locking him in a standing head scissors, then hooks the ex-Carny’s arms!

 

“Dynamite, coming up!” calls Mark.

 

“Quite possibly one of the most devastating finishers in the business!” Riley adds.

 

TNT braces himself and puuuuuuulls… Raynor is lifted up off the mat, slowly, but TNT digs down and Raynor’s going up higher, faster, he’s almost there-

 

Suddenly TNT drops him! The Explosive One falls to his knees, swearing profusely and-

 

“-cradling that shoulder! He just didn’t have enough.”

 

Raynor, unfortunately, still got the worst of it by being dropped on his head, mostly. He covers the back of his head from any attack, and uses his feet to push himself ever so slowly to the ropes. TNT rolls his arm around, exercising the shoulder and wincing a little… then gets to his feet. Still holding the shoulder, he half-walks half-stumbles over to Raynor, who’s just know pulling himself up to his knees, and kicks him in the side of the neck, dropping him back down to the mat, then he drags him over to the corner and puts him in the lower ropes, and then puts his massive boot against Raynor’s throat and crushes it down into the turnbuckle!

 

ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR! F-

 

TNT picks his foot up… then plants it right back down!

 

ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR! FI-

 

Again he takes his foot off Raynor’s neck, and know he heads across to the opposite corner.

 

“It looks like TNT’s going for his neck-based submission finisher instead, from the way he’s softening it up - maybe that table and stairshot earlier was for insurance?”

 

TNT lines his knee up with Raynor’s head, which now hangs limply on the bottom rope, then makes the charge!

 

“Running knee lift, from the looks of it-”

 

“OOOOOOOOOOH!”

 

At the last possible second, Raynor grabs the middle rope with both arms and swings his foot up, clocking TNT in the face and stopping him dead in his tracks! TNT is knocked silly from the blow, and from somewhere Raynor finds the strength to get to his feet! He stumbles out of the corner and stiffly toe-kicks TNT in the gut, then hooks the Explosive One’s arm around his shoulder…

 

“Setting up for the Acid Rayn…”

 

And he puuuuuulls….

 

… and manages to lift TNT a whopping two inches off the ground before having to drop him back down again! Raynor grits his teeth, lets out a ferocious “RRRAAGH!” and tries again, but TNT gets his arm free and begins blasting Raynor rapid-fire in the stomach! A flurry of weak but numerous punches drive him back into the corner! Raynor remains on his feet only via the ropes, and TNT seems to be getting some new energy pumped in from somewhere! He drives his good shoulder into Raynor’s stomach, then walks backwards all the way into the opposite corner. The fans begin to buzz in anticipation as TNT waits for the best time-

 

NOW! He takes off like a shot, charging straight for Raynor!

 

Too bad he misses! Raynor dives to the ring at the absolute last second, then scrambles on his hands and knees out to the center of the ring! TNT practically ricochets out of the corner, stumbling back and unwittingly turns 180 degrees to face the center of the ring-

 

-where Raynor is on his knees, right in front of him! Raynor starts to stand, hooking TNT’s arms in the process-

 

“-and he drives him face-first into the canvas! Raynor couldn’t lift TNT up for the Acid Rayn 3.0, so he pulled out the earlier version - but is it enough?! Here’s the cover!”

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

T

H

R

E

E

E

E

E

E

EEEEE!!! - TNT KICKS OUT --- A MILLISECOND AFTER THREE!

 

*DING DING DING*

 

“And Raynor barely puts TNT away with the second form of Acid Rayn!”

 

Funyon is handed a microphone, and he bellows into it: “The winner of this bout… Chriiiiiiis Rayyynooooorrr!”

 

“Raynor used Taylor’s own momentum against him to hit the earlier Acid Rayn, but TNT almost managed to kick out!” said Mark. “If Raynor had hit his current version, though, I’m not sure he could’ve done that.”

 

Raynor’s too exhausted to get up on his own, so the referee involuntarily becomes a human crutch for him. Kivell raises Raynor’s arm, and Raynor looks expectantly out to the crowd - his expression turns sour at the severe lack of cheering. He dismisses the fans with a wave of his hand, then sort of falls out of the ring through the ropes, landing with a loud “Oof” on the mats below.

 

“TNT really put Raynor to the test tonight, but the Rayn-Man was just too strong for ‘em.” says Mark as he shuffles his papers, pauses for a moment… then continues. “Well, up next we’ve got what promises to be just as heated a match as we‘ve just seen - Sacred, the Warrior from Down Under takes on the Boston Strangler! Insanity! Violence! Insane violence, and violent insanity even! Stay with us!”

[Guest BA_Baracus]

The commercial soon ends, coming back to regular SWF broadcasting with a black screen. You can hear the fan s in the background noisy awaiting the next match, as the screen suddenly starts to distort, turning fuzzy as images of Riots... wars... provocative and frightening pictures play on the SmarkTron. The fans immediately boo, knowing who will make their way out. Soon, the pictures of destruction cease, and the lights go out...

 

Boom! Pyro explodes at the top of the stage, prompting the beginning of Stabbing Westwards "Save Yourself" which blares over the P.A. Almost immediately, Sacred comes storming out, an angered look on his face as he ignores the constant booing of the fans, and makes his way down the ramp, cracking his knuckles as he does so.

 

"Whoa ho, ho!" Riley chuckles, grinning as he watches a slightly crazed Sacred slide into the ring, jerking his head from side to side, shooting an icy glare at the fans as they taunt him and boo wildly. "Looks like someone’s ready for a fight tonight!"

 

"And why not, during the week, he ran into his former friend and Regeneration-X team mate Axis, and I hard the meeting wasn't so pleasant for Sacred..." Mark Stevens responds, much like a news reporter. "But he has to put it out of his mind and focus on what's happening now, and that is he's facing one of the biggest men in the SWF, the Boston Strangler. It's been a while since Sacred's been matched up against someone so powerful the likes of Strangler, so it will be interesting to see how he approaches this one."

 

"Well..." Riley begins, replaying events over in his mind. "Since returning, Sacred has been a methodical wrestler, picking apart an opponents weakness, or creating one of his own. Either way, the phycology he uses is always for a reason, some may call him crazy, but he has a sharp mind, and the experience to know exactly what it takes to win a match."

 

"He's still a crazy bastard... never a dull moment though." Stevens says with a grin.

 

Sacred paces around the ring, picking a fight with thin air, as Funyon does his duty and gets on the mic, "The following match is a singles contest, and it is scheduled for one fall!" Despite Funyon's attempts, the fans seem bored with a straight singles match. "Introducing first, from Adelaide Australia..." A chorus of boos come from the fans. "Standing six foot one, and weighing two hundred and thirty one pounds... he is a member of creative control, and an all round crazy guy... please welcome, SACRED!"

 

They welcome him all right, with boos and jeer though, but Sacred just smirks and shakes his head as he waits for his opponent... He doesn't have to wait long though as the lights slowly dim down, and the SmarkTron goes dark also... as "Burn to Burn" by Static X plays to the crowd, who are less than receptive, and boo like mad. Just like Sacred, Strangler wastes no time s he walks out onto the entranceway, shrugging off the crowd's jeers with a sarcastic smile. His trench coat flies behind him as he walks down the ramp way, both he and Sacred glaring at each other wearily.

 

"Divefire and Bo managed to defeat Strangler and Wilson last week, and there's no doubting that the leader of the Magnificent Seven has vowed revenge for the shot taken to his stable's pride." Stevens comments. "Stubby wants to continue the dismantling of M7, and bring Wilson to breaking point."

 

"I don't know if this was a wise move on Stubby's part..." Riley says pessimistically, "The Boston Strangler has been nothing but impressive since returning a few months ago, and he utilises his power advantage like a pro, maybe Sacred's been thrown in the deep end, and maybe he won't get back out..."

 

"Right now, I don't think Sacred cares who he faces, he just wants to show us violence, and maybe, just prove he has what it takes to step up the SWF ladder." Stevens says with a hesitant look, personally hoping Sacred doesn't, because he might take his 'most decorated wrestler' title. Funyon watches Strangler step up the steel steps and enter the ring through the ropes, all the while, keeping an eye on Sacred for an early cheap shot. "And his opponent..." Funyon booms, "From Boston MA. Standing six foot nine, and weighing three hundred and six pounds... he is apart of the Magnificent Seven... he... likes to kill people by strangling them and stuff... he is THE BOSTON STRANGLER!"

 

Funyon leaves the ring as both men approach each other. The size difference immediately becomes occurrent, as Sacred looks up at the near one foot taller Strangler. The referee points to the timekeeper, and this match is under way with the, "Ding, ding, ding!" of the ring bell! Strangler grins and pushes the Aussie away, all the way to the opposite corner. Sacred looks down, obviously fuming, and he comes charging back out the corner at full speed, but Strangler simply steps aside and takes him down with a back elbow. "Sacred has to keep his emotions in check..." Riley notes. "Or Strangler can easily get in his big power moves and put him down for the count!"

 

Sacred whirls back onto his feet, but Strangler is there to meet him with right hands, backing him back into a corner again. Strangler rears back and "Whooo!" brings his arm across Sacred's chest with a knife edge chop. "Whooo!" The fans yell as Strangler hits again, grabbing Sacred by the hand and propelling him across the ring. Sacred hits the corner, but basically no sells and comes running at Strangler, ducking a wayward clothesline. Sacred quickly hooks his ankle around Stranglers and pulls him backwards by the neck, bring him down with a Russian Leg Sweep! "Great quickness and agility..." Stevens says. "He'll have to use it as much as he can to counter act Stranglers obvious power advantage."

 

Strangler hits the mat hard, but manages to get back onto his feet. Sacred hits a few of his patented forearms to the temple, before whipping the Superstation into the ropes. Sacred leaps into the air and tries for a flying forearm, but Strangler ducks it and grabs a hold of Sacred's arm, pulling him towards him and hooking him with a full nelson! Sacred counters quickly though, rolling under Strangler and grabbing his right leg, hooking on an elevated half Boston crab! "Solution 9!" Riley yells. "The hold applies a lot of pressure on the leg and lower back, maybe were seeing Sacred's strategy already..."

 

"We may well be..." Mark replies. "And if so, it' a good one. It'd make it hard for Strangler to lift the Aussie if he only has one leg to stand on!" Strangler crawls towards the ropes, pulling himself there with his massive arms, easily grabbing the bottom rope. Sacred holds the move on as long as he can, before grudgingly letting go. Sacred glares at the ref, hoping to have his Creative Control influence give him some more time with the submission, but this ref won't be intimidated. Sacred shakes his head and turns around... only to be floored by a big boot from Strangler!

 

"Listen to that echo!" Stevens cries. "Sacred's taking Strangler lightly, but you can't take a big man like that lightly at all, you know... because he's heavy and all!"

 

"That was a really bad joke Mark..." Riley says with a sigh. "I don't see you coming up with anything better..." Stevens mutters under his breath.

 

Sacred slowly climbs to his feet, readjusting his jaw after it was nearly kicked off his face by Stranglers boot. The Superstation grins as he lands a few well-aimed punches. Strangler hoists Sacred up onto his shoulders with a fireman’s carry, but Sacred slips behind him, grabbing his neck on the way down and locking on a reverse face lock! Strangler quickly spins his body and lifts Sacred up into the air in one quick movement and pushing him down and nailing him with a Farooqesque Spinebuster! "Oh ho! Listen to the impact!" Riley yells. "Sacred can counter almost anything, but Strangler could probably power his way out of anything!"

 

Sacred grabs his head and yelps out in pain, as Strangler lifts him onto his feet, and whips him into the ropes, but somehow, Sacred reverses it. Sacred lines Strangler up with a standing sidekick, but Strangler grabs onto the ropes and avoids the impact! "Wow, Strangler using some INTELLIGENCE~!" Riley says with a smirk. The Superstation smirks as well, as Sacred looks rather annoyed. Strangler charges forward and grapples with the Aussie, and the two enter a test of strength. It's a lost cause for Sacred though, as Strangler pushes down on Sacred's upper body, bringing Sacred down into a bridge position, in a unique submission hold! Sacred cries out as Strangler keeps pushing down on Sacred, sending pain shooting up Sacred's spine.

 

"Stranglers trying to slow Sacred down, and man, this has got to be hurting Sacred's back." Stevens says. Sacred tries to grab the bottom rope nearest to him, but as much as he tries, it's just out of his reach. He realises he has to do something, as Strangler has no intention of letting go. The Aussie powers up as much as he can, a few inches, just enough to get out of the bridge position, and enough time to quickly drop Strangler back down to the mat with a face first neck breaker! "Ingenious counter!" Riley yells. Sacred quickly hooks Strangler, by the leg.

 

O

 

N

 

E

 

-

 

T - But Stranglerama kicks out rather easily. Sacred takes some time in getting up, as Strangler manages to get to his feet, but the effects of the neckbreaker are still there. Strangler lumbers over and grabs Sacred by the head, wearily trying to pick him up, but Sacred counters with a quick fire jawbreaker, causing Strangler to hop around and curse, clutching his jaw. This gives Sacred enough time to take down the Superstation with a drop toehold, locking on the Solution 9 again! "Man..." Strangler says. "He's really desperate to work on that leg, the second Solution 9 tonight!" This time, Sacred has more success with the hold, as Strangler desperately tries to crawl to the ropes, but Sacred wrenches and twists his leg some more, keeping him in place. Strangler yells out as his leg is twisted like a pretzel, but there is nothing but a smile on Sacred's face...

 

"Stranglers have a difficult time of it, struggling forward, but he's crawling... and he finally grabs the ropes!" Stevens yells. Riley replies, "You sound happy? I thought you hated these guys?"

 

"Hey, I can mark out sometimes if I want to..." Stevens says with a quick glare at Riley. Sacred grins, seeming very proud of himself as he starts to pick away at Stranglers knee, kicking it with a few sharp shots. Strangler grabs his knee and crawls to the turnbuckles, using them to lift himself up. Sacred hits a forearm, and another, and another. Sacred laughs as the fans boo him, but Sacred wants to get some more shots in, as he climbs to the second turnbuckle and pounds away with this forearm. "One! Two! Three!" the fans yell in unison as they watch on. "Four! Five! Siz! Seven! Oh!" They all gasp as Strangler grabs Sacred around the hips an lifts him up onto his shoulders in a Powerbomb position! Sacred, leaping off Stranglers shoulders, grabbing him by the hair and nailing him with a face buster!

 

"Sacred's starting to take control, and he'll slow things down, target Stranglers leg and knee, whatever he has to do to win." Riley says. Sacred breathes heavily as he quickly slides out of the ring, running around to the ring post and grabbing Stranglers ankle. He looks at the fans left and right as they boo him viciously, but Sacred ignores them as he pulls Stranglers knee joint against the steel ring post! Strangler’s leg is wrapped around the post, looking like a car wreck. Sacred grabs his leg again and targets that knee joint again, nailing it against the post to some "Oohs!" from the crowd. Strangler hobbles onto his feet as Sacred climbs up onto the apron and places his hands on the top rope, waiting for Strangler to turn around...

 

"He might be looking for that fly kick..." Stevens predicts. Sacred leaps onto the top rope, and indeed comes flying off with a fly kick... but Strangler ducks his head a little, grab's Sacred under the leg and throws him down to the canvas with a clinching slam! "Strangler with a great counter that time!" Riley yells. Strangler takes a few seconds to catch his breath, before pinning the Australian...

 

O

 

N

 

E

 

-

 

T

 

W

 

O - But a kick out after two from Sacred. The Australian cowers as Strangler climbs to his feet, holding his knee as he stalks Sacred, waiting for the Aussie to get to his feet. Sacred slowly climbs up, his back to Strangler, unaware that the Superstation is behind him, his arms extended... waiting... locking on a sleeper hold. Sacred kicks his legs as Strangler tries to pull him down with a sleeper drop, but Sacred manages to block it. Sacred sends a few mule kicks into Stranglers weakened right leg, and breaks the hold. Sacred turns around, grabbing Stranglers arm and trying to wrap it around his head with the Knifey Spoony! But Strangler, unravelling his arm and sending Sacred flying into the ring ropes. Sacred comes barrelling back, leaping into the air with a cross body splash! But Strangler catches him! The Superstation hobbles a little, taking some time as he steadies himself, feeling pressure on his leg with the extra weight, but he still manages to throw Sacred over his head with a Fallaway slam!

 

"Strangler caught him!" Stevens cries. "But you could see, his legs looked liked it could give away, a sign that Sacred's strategy is working...” Strangler grunts as he walks across the ring, grabbing Sacred by the head with one hand and lifting him up. He chokes Sacred with his bear like grip, pushing him across the ring and crunching him into the turnbuckle, holding onto Sacred's neck, choking the life out of the poor little Aussie. The ref counts, "One, two, three! Ok, break the hold Strangler!" But Strangler ignores him, taking his frustration’s out on Sacred, choking him some more. "Didn't you bloody hear me? Break the god damn hold!" Sacred suddenly stops, and turns to face the ref, who slowly back away, holding his arms out, pleading with Strangler not to hurt him. Strangler stalks the lowly ref like a mako shark, but doesn't count on a great white attacking him from behind, with a chop block on his right knee! Strangler hits the mat, but manages to get back onto his feet, as Sacred lowers his head, smiling as he watches Strangler struggle onto his feet, holding his knee in pain...

 

Sacred charges across the ring, like a Kamikaze pilot, ready to hit the... Kamikaze! Er... Strangler has it scouted though, and gets hit in the stomach, but doesn't go down, instead he catches Sacred in a front face lock! Strangler lifts up the Aussie with a suplez, holding him in mid-air, but his facial expressions show he's struggling to keep Sacred up. Strangler finally lets Sacred drop on his upper back and neck with a Brainbuster on the canvas! "Tremendous! A great equaliser to give him some time to rest his knee, even a little!" Stevens exclaims. "I don't know..." Riley says stroking his chin. "I don't think Strangler meant to hit a Brainbuster, I think hi knee gave away on him..."

 

Mark replies, "If that's so, he in a lot of trouble if he can't even lift Sacred up for a suplex..."

 

Strangler cringes as his knee drags along the canvas, hooking Sacred by the leg for a pin. The referee slides over...

 

O

 

N

 

E

 

-

 

T

 

W

 

O

 

-

 

T

 

H - But Sacred rolls a shoulder off the canvas! Strangler curses himself, looking down at the Aussie and growling. He glances up at the fans, who are on their feet, awaiting his next move. A smile soon comes on Stranglers face as he lifts Sacred onto his feet . He places on hand on his stomach and one on his chest, starting to lift him up for a press slam or Gorilla press, but Sacred counters in the process, falling behind Strangler. Sacred quickly rolls Strangler up!

 

O

 

N

 

E

 

-

 

T

 

W

 

O

 

-

 

T - But Strangler pushes out! "Ooh! Nearly stole the victory right there!" Riley exclaims. Both men whirl onto their feet, both men hitting each other. Right hand, forearm, right hand, forearm, right hand, right hand, right hand! Strangler takes control, pounding the Aussie into submission with punch after punch. Strangler grabs Sacred by the arm and whips him into the turnbuckles. Strangler runs, albeit slowly across the ring, crushing Sacred into the turnbuckle with a clothesline! Strangler lifts Sacred up onto the top turnbuckle, perching him on the top rope. Strangler climbs up, breathing heavily, huffing and puffing as he hooks Sacred's arm over his shoulders and grabs a handful of tights. "Stranglers going to try a superplex, but he looks wobbly on that second rope, and he can't quite lift Sacred!" Stevens yells.

 

Riley responds, "Every move, everything Sacred does is for a reason, and Stranglers feeling it right now." Strangler tries once... but to no avail. He tries a second time... but can't lift Sacred! The Australian tries something desperate in between Stranglers rest bites, hitting a few jabs to the ribs, making Strangler release his suplex hold. Sacred grabs Stranglers ankle and jumps forward, landing on his feet, and slamming the Superstations knee against his own! Strangler hops around, cursing as the pain increases with every move on that knee. Sacred kicks Strangler on the stomach, and puts on a front face lock... "Is he going for it!?" Stevens asks.

 

"I think he is!" Riley replies immediately. Sacred grabs Stranglers left arm and lifts it up, looking around at the fans, grinning from ear to ear as he sets Strangler up for the "CRUEL FATE!" The announcers yell in unison! But no! Strangler drives his knee into Sacred's ribs, winding the Aussie. Another one sends Sacred backing into the ropes, gasping for air. Sacred comes back to the centre of the ring, as Stranglers ducks his head and lifts Sacred up, holding him in mid air with a gorilla press!

 

"Now Stranglers attempting to hit THE BOSTOM MASSACRE!" Riley screams. "If he hits this, shows over! There's no getting up from that!" Strangler holds Sacred up for the fans to see, but he's clearly grimacing, cringing as he tries to keep Sacred up, but he just can’t do it, and his leg gives away! Sacred falls on top of Strangler with a splash and pins!

 

O

 

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E

 

-

 

T

 

W

 

O

 

-

 

T

 

H

 

R

 

E - NO! Strangler gets a shoulder up, and Sacred is in disbelief! He just shakes his head as Strangler rolls around, grabbing his knee and crying out in pain. "We say his leg give away before, but that time it turned into a positive for Strangler! But that time, he just couldn't keep Sacred up in the air, and his knee gave away on him! Sacred has to see his chance now, Strangler couldn't hit the Boston Massacre, he has to capitalise now if he wants to win!" Strangler yells, on the edge of his seat along with Riley.

 

Sacred cockily gets to his feet, laughing as Strangler writhes in pain, clutching his leg. Sacred places his hands on the top rope and lifts himself up, bring his whole body down on Strangler's knee! He does it again, and Strangler rolls up into a ball, protecting his leg as Sacred tries to stomp away at it. Sacred runs off the ropes and hit a quick elbow drop. He gets to his feet, follows up with another elbow drop. The fans boo as Sacred takes his time, taking Strangler out. Finally, the Australian lifts the wounded bostonian onto his feet and attempts to whip him into the ropes...

 

But Strangler reverses the whip. Sacred comes charging back towards Strangler, trying for a Harlem Side Kick, but it's ducked! Strangler turns around and lifts Sacred up into a weak Spinebuster position, but Sacred puts his arm around Stranglers neck, whirling him around and around in mid air, trying to land a tornado DDT! But Strangler keeps old of Sacred and slams him to the mat! The fans are on their feet as Strangler’s lifts both of Sacred's legs up, and the Australian pleads with him not to, waving his arms..

 

"He's going for it, he's going for the sharpshooter! Sweet revenge after Sacred's merciless attack on the Superstations knee!" Stevens says with a satisfied grin. Strangler steps through Sacred's legs with his right leg, and grunts as he does so, pressure being put on it as he tries to wrap Sacred's legs around his own... but Sacred pulls Strangler down and rolls him up, moving at lightning speed, grabbing hold of Stranglers leg and locking on ANOTHER SOLUTION 9~!

 

"Strangler stepped through with his hurt leg, and Sacred took advantage of it, locking on his premier submission move!" Riley screams, watching with wide eyes as Strangler screams out in pain, arm outstretched, although no where near the rope! Sacred yells himself, gritting his teeth as he sits lower, Strangler letting out one last cry as... HE TAPS! The referee waves to ringside and the bell rings! "He made him tap! Sacred's strategy worked perfectly, again! He went out targeting his leg and knee, and it payed off on several occasions! A superb performance!" Stevens yells as Funyon gets on the mic...

 

"The winner of this match as a result of submission... SACRED!" The fans cheer and boo all at the same time, unhappy Sacred got the win, but taken over by the excitement of the finish. Sacred falls on his knees and chuckles to himself, eyes wide as he nods his head, finally satisfied.

 

"What a match! I have to admit, I saw Strangler as the favourite going into this, having such a large size advantage, but Sacred out classed and out-smarted him in the end, making him tap! Only the second time in his long career that Sacred has made someone tap, which will make this victory so much sweeter for him!" Riley says, as he watches Sacred roll out of the ring, grinning from ear to ear as he backs up the ramp, watching the Magnificent Seven member continue to cluch his knee, pain still coarsing through his leg. But Strangler jerks his head to Sacred and spews out abuse, wanting revenge, but for now, Sacred is the victor, and nothing can take that away from him.

 

"Another match comes to close, massive handicap match is coming up in the main event, so don't go away!" Stevens calls out with a smile, s the camera slowly backs away, and fades into another commercial...

[Guest BA_Baracus]

Backstage, Chris Raynor sits in his own private dressing room on his own private couch, drinking a cold beer and thumbing through the latest issue of SWF Magazine, counting up how many pictures of and references to himself lie within. “37? That’s almost twice as many as last month…they’re finally taking notice…”

 

KNOCK, KNOCK.

 

Raynor sits at attention. “Who is it?”

 

KNOCK, KNOCK.

 

“The door’s open, all right? Come in, dammit.”

 

KNOCK, KNOCK.

 

“Christ…I have to everything myself around here. I’m coming, I’m coming.” Raynor stands up and tosses the magazine aside, moving for the door. He grabs the knob…and suddenly, the door flies forward and slams into Raynor’s face, blasting him backwards over top of the couch! A black Doc Marten boot leads the way, and the form of Edwin MacPhisto steps in through the door!

 

“You’ve been looking for a shot at me, I hear?”

 

“Fuck you, Edwin!” shouts Raynor, clutching at his nose…and grabbing the half-filled beer bottle off the table, swinging it up at Edwin…who ducks underneath, leaving Raynor to hit nothing but air! Raynor staggers up off the floor, bottle ready…and suddenly the couch flips up and broadsides him across the chest, Edwin rising with it and powering forward with a roar! Raynor trips over the table and the couch sails over him, but not before slamming into his face and knocking him back!

 

“Come on, you ridiculous bastard,” goads the Mac Daddy. “If you’re going to talk the talk, you’d best learn to walk the walk and throw a punch at the same time!” Edwin pulls Raynor up by his lapels, and throws him out of the dressing room and into the hallway! The Rayn-Man stumbles into the wall, and Edwin collides into him with a big running knee! Raynor collapses, and Edwin bends to pick him up…

 

SMAAAAASH!

 

…and Chris Raynor breaks the lingering beer bottle clear over Edwin’s head, blinding the Mac Daddy with a mix of Miller and glass! “Eat a bag of dicks, Edwin!” screams Raynor, rising to his feet and clocking Edwin with a big punch. “I’ve been waiting a year and a half to do this!” Raynor grabs the still-blinded Edwin around the neck and throws him into the wall, dragging his face along the concrete as he walks him towards a turn in the path! Raynor drags Edwin right past Longdogger Pete and Mistress Sarah, who stand conferencing in the hallway and gaping open-mouthed as Raynor breaks into a run and suddenly hurls Edwin down the hall and into a trash can! Edwin clatters to the ground amidst the scattering garbage, and Raynor pursues…right into a drop toehold from the Mac Daddy that plants him firm on his face in the hallway! Edwin scrambles up…and Raynor trips him down in turn! Raynor crawls after Edwin, trying to straitjacket his arms and cinch The Grudge, but Edwin crawls away, thrashing up to his feet…and running backwards, avalanching Raynor through a wooden door and into another room! The two men topple over the shards of wood and crash amidst a cluster of road agents and backstage crew enjoying cheap catered food! The two men topple over, Raynor crashing uncomfortably into the table leg, and Edwin’s on him in a second, crawling over him and locking on a back-mounted Dragon sleeper! Raynor flails wildly and tries to roll over and get Edwin off of him, but before either man can do much damage, the road agents pile on them and pull them apart, 5 men holding each wrestler back!

 

“You crossed the line, Chris! You cost me the title, and now I’ve got to take my price out of you!”

 

“Eat shit and die, Edwin! You could never hang with me!”

 

“Maybe we’ll see about that, you bastard--” The two clusters of agents drag the two men apart and out of frame, and we cut to commercial amidst the scattered remnants of the dining room…

[Guest BA_Baracus]

The Skyreach centre rocks to the Smarkdown Theme as we come back from comercial, the sold out arena can be clearly scene by the cameras panning overhead at high speed, the paying customers sitting bellow and futilely waving their banners for three seconds of fame. The music fades out and the house lights dim out again and for several long moments nothing but silence embraces the arena.

 

Then ‘Quarantined’ by the Drive In slams into the area, its intro tones wailing out to the masses as over the Smark-Tron™ Silent’s video plays. Then with a heavy scratch sound effect over the song, ‘Come With Me’ takes over the arena and into two spot lights walk out the stable formally known as the Clan, or at least Silent and Thoth. Tremendous amounts of cheers can be heard for the Balancer… Silent on the other hand is nearly shunned as the cheers outrank boos.

 

Stevens: “We are back here at the Skyreach center, and it is time for our Main Event! The two members of the Clan were decimated on Storm, in footage so graphic that we couldn’t show it! Despite the Clan being named dead by the word of Thoth, he challenged Creative Control to a Gauntlet match… however Silent decided he wanted some of the creative Control tonight! Stubby has decided it is…”

 

Riley: “-Will you shut up? We did see that part on Storm!”

 

The two men walk down the ramp way… their mutual bondage keeps a foot in between them, as they walk side by side down the ramp, Silent’s trenchcoat fluttering about in the air behind him as Thoth is only in his dress shirt.

 

Funyon: “Tonight’s Main Event is a Handicap match! Introducing first… they are a total combined weight of 484 pounds! Silent and Thoth!”

 

They step up to the apron, then walk along so they are on opposite corners of the ring, stepping up onto the turnbuckles, one foot on the top and one foot on the middle. They assume the angst pose, also known as the crucifix position. They slip off the ring posts and into the ring, their music fades, Silent lets his trenchcoat slip off his shoulders as Thoth removes his dress shirt… both relax their heads and shoot their arms into crucifix poses out to a moment of silence and then…

 

“Don't go looking for snakes you might find them,”

“Don't send your eyes to the sun you might blind them,”

“Haven't I seen you here before?”

 

The heavy slow and dark tones of Metallica’s ‘Slither’ pump out into the arena as the SmarkTron™ sparks up again to the dimly lit arena. On it, it portrays Stubby P. McWeed leering over an image of the members of Creative Control beating the living hell out of people, before the Commissioner looks out of the screen and…

 

The ramp way erupts into explosion, starting at the far end and working it’s way to the stage, triggering an almighty pyro burst that when it clears, leaves Perfect Bo, Lerrin Breggan and Jay Dawg standing shoulder to shoulder and starring down into the ring.

 

“Ohhh, watch the puppets dancin',”

“Yeah, see the clowns fall down,”

“Hey, tie your tap shoes tightly,”

“Yeah, and wear them into town,”

“See you crawlin'…”

“See you crawlin' in…”

“Don't go looking for snakes you might find them,”

“Don't send your eyes to the sun you might blind them,”

“Haven't I seen you here before?”

“There ain't no heroes here…no…no more.”

 

The three men walk shoulder to shoulder down the ramp way as the music plays, gazes locked onto the former Clan members in the ring, who wisely exit the ring for now and let the Creative Control members show off their new team entrance.

 

The three men of Creative Control each step around to a separate ringside, then climb into the ring, stepping through the ropes then folding their arms across their chests, sharing a look between them of confidence before they turn slowly and look outside.

 

“Hey hey hey,”

“Oooh, play the game so nicely,”

“Oh, check, it's your move now,”

“Yeah, we're standing in this jungle,”

“Yeah, with serpents I have found,”

“See you crawlin'…”

“See you crawlin' in…”

 

As one, the three men raise their hands into the air and the four ring turnbuckles obey their silent command and fire pyro high into the arena skyline.

 

“Don't go looking for snakes you might find them,”

“Don't send your eyes to the sun you might blind them,”

“Haven't I seen you here before?”

“Have your heroes disappeared?”

 

The song cuts off with those last lyrics and the three men turn to each other and look out to see Silent and Thoth climbing back into the ring. Quickly, things break down into a starring match.

 

Riley: “Now that is an entrance!”

 

Stevens: “A nice little debut for the Creative Control, who has never used an entrance before!”

 

The two teams take their respective corners, Breggan choosing to start things on the CC side. Thoth lets Silent know he is going to start the battle, and only gets a smirk in return. On the apron, Jay Dawg and Silent lock eyes, a mischievous smile painted over Jay Dawg’s face, while Silent lets no emotion show, cold enough to take over hell.

 

Stevens: “Those two have grown into quite the feud, trying to use each other for their own personal advantages!”

 

Thoth takes a glance toward Breggan, as the monster cracks his knuckles with pleasure. Not intimidated in the slightest by his monster adversary, Thoth steps forward. Breggan follows, walking at a fast pace straight for Thoth and before the former Clansmen can react, a painful strike to his ribs, knocks him in the air. Thoth drops to one knee, surprised at the force of his musclehead rival. Lerrin promptly picks him up as the crowd fears for the worst, Irish whip but Thoth hooks onto the ropes. He takes a breather, slowly circling the ring while rethinking his strategy. Lerrin strikes once more, but Thoth outside steps it, a short kick to the back of Lerrin’s knee takes it down, and Thoth side headlocks the kneeling CC enforcer.

 

Stevens: “It is common knowledge that Lerrin is a potential world champion, if he can ever get through his inexperience!”

 

Riley: “I love this guy… I mean… he has more talent in his thumb then some have in their whole bodies!”

 

Thoth grinds his arm into Breggan’s neck with the headlock, the spiked hair dripping with a small amount of sweat. Lerrin stands up, the headlock not nearly enough to keep him down; he casually shoves Thoth, sending his adversary into the ropes. Thoth ducks a tree trunk of a clothesline, shifting so he is back to back with Breggan, and spins to face him, popping LB with a roundhouse punch, knocking Breggan back. The crowd roars as Thoth shows his dominance. Breggan comes back with a punch, Thoth blocks, and thrusts upward… the fans cheer… CRACK… nailing Breggan with an ultra stiff uppercut.

 

Stevens: “Thoth is truly one of the best competitors in this fed, countering Breggan’s powerful offense like it is nothing!”

 

Thoth hooks Breggan’s arm into an armbar, and simple flex of the muscle could snap the arm, and Thoth knows this as he tags in Silent. The Slaughterer stares down at Thoth, a smirk slowly melting his icy face. Thoth releases the armbar as Silent steps into the ring. Thoth exits through the ropes, and as soon as he gets both feet back on the apron, an angry Lerrin Breggan clubs him in the back of the neck, knocking him clearly off the ring apron, but the Balancer lands on his feet. Thoth snaps his head back at Lerrin, anger apparent, but Silent gets Breggan’s attention with a jab to the ribs. Silent presses Breggan into the ropes and whips him off. As Breggan bounces with little force off the ropes, he returns and is easily hip tossed into the mat. Silent just shakes his head as he can see Breggan is providing no challenge for the moment, and with a tag that slightly resembles a chop, Thoth is back in the match. Thoth stares at Silent from the ring apron, a reddish handprint now over his chest, he enters once more.

 

Stevens: “Silent doesn’t seem interested in this match!”

 

Riley: “Heh! Did you see that chop to Thoth! That’s his own tag partner!”

 

Stevens: “Thoth is not amused with Silent or his time in the match!”

 

Thoth continues to look at Silent, unaware of Lerrin who has just popped up. Thoth finally steps away from Silent, his head over his shoulder and when he finally looks to where his opponent should be, his ribs are gripped into a vicelike bearhug. With an explosive snap of the legs, Thoth is thrown high over Lerrin’s head and immediately regrets his landing for the belly-to-belly suplex. Despite the proper landing, Thoth is in considerable pain, however toughs it out to his feet, although promptly picked up by Lerrin Breggan, high over his head. Thoth’s pain rises as Lerrin’s hands grip into his chest and groin, the impressive muscle holding him like he’s a feather. With a step forward and a release of his grip, Lerrin nods to his partners as Thoth disappears from the air, only to head straight south. Oof!

 

Stevens: “Thoth is in trouble! Silent and him need to work as a team, and when they do, I can guarantee you we will see them come out on top!”

 

Riley: “Bah! Creative Control 2 on 2 can beat these guys! 3 on 2 is nothing for them!”

 

Stevens: “It’s not that, Silent and Thoth have known each other far longer then anyone else in this fed!”

 

Thoth rolls to a side, halfheartedly groping his ribs, feeling ready to puke. He keeps his expression calm, although deep down he is ready to kill. Lerrin steps to his corner and tags in the very eager Perfect Bo, who upon entering the ring, doesn’t even allow Thoth to get up, as he drops an elbow over his head. Bo stands up but once more leaves his feet with another elbow, right into the back of Thoth’s head. He rolls Thoth over with a cover.

 

One…

 

Thoth slips his shoulder off the mat, and wraps it around Bo’s neck, rolling his legs out and dropping his body over top of Bo’s he makes the cover.

 

One…

 

Bo hooks his arm around Thoth’s leg, and slides over, despite the headlock in place. Bo has the modified school boy holding Thoth’s shoulders down.

 

One…

 

Thoth releases the headlock and rolls back to his feet. Bo is one step ahead of him though, a kneelift to Thoth’s mid-section, Bo gives Thoth no time to gasp for air, as a facelock and a spin drives Thoth into the mat with a swinging neckbreaker. Bo makes another cover, bobbing his head as the ref counts.

 

One…

 

Two…

 

Thoth convincingly gets his shoulder up, and with a snap, drives his knee into the jaw of Perfect Bo. Bo snaps his head back as a fluid strand of saliva flies from his mouth, he raises his fist and punches down and connects with the mat as Thoth rolls his head to the side. Thoth slides his legs out from under Bo’s and is promptly to his feet. Bo stands up nearly as fast, and spots Thoth thrusting his left leg for him. Bo catches the leg and holds it tightly to his side, and pulls Thoth off his feet, no, Thoth jumps in the air… CRACK!!! The enziguri roundhouse kick straight into Perfect Bo’s jaw! The crowd explodes into cheers for their favorite sadist as once more Perfect Bo’s head snaps back a fair distance, and his spit this time has some crimson coloring to it.

 

Stevens: “And the scary counters of Thoth show some more!”

 

Riley: “Those strikes are deadly! Bo is one tough son of a bitch though!”

 

Jay Dawg winces in sympathy for his partner as Breggan lightly cheers him on, in a manly-heelish way. Thoth makes a dash for the ropes, upon hitting the cables, a hand slaps his back, Silent is the legal man and Thoth is aware. Although he keeps running, straight for an aggressive Perfect Bo, just as the Perfect One lunge for him, he slides through his legs, and slaps his ankles. Oblivious to Silent’s entrance, Bo turns to Thoth and is locked into a full nelson. Silent lifts, but Bo ain’t moving.

 

Stevens: “Nice little psychology advantage by the team of Thoth and Silent!”

 

Bo breaks the hold into a half nelson, however doesn’t spot Thoth leap into the air. As if in slow motion, Bo raises his arm to block, and it’s trapped back into the full nelson. Thoth’s legs extend, and he kicks his one leg forward, the camera catching a glimpse of his facial expression, a combo of rage and focus… CRACK… kicking Bo straight in the face… in matrix motion, his head snaps back, then bounces forward, and timbers back again… on that third shake, Silent lifts up and Bo shakes his head in denial that he is going for a ride. Blood and sweat pours from his mouth/face as the image of his head is replaced by the shot of the back of his legs… Silent bridges out the Dragon suplex as Bo’s knees rest by his ears.

 

One…

 

 

Two…

 

 

-Lerrin and JD both are ready to slide in…

 

 

TH… but Bo kicks out in time.

 

Stevens: “Perfect Bo has taken three lethal blows to the face and nearly had his body cave in from that Dragon suplex!”

 

Riley: “You should know better then most that Bo is one of the toughest folks in the SWF!”

 

Stevens: “That is very agreed!”

 

Riley: “It is scary how deadly this team formerly known as the Clan is together! But it’s only been a tag match so far, Jay Dawg has only observed from the apron!”

 

Stevens: “I noticed that too… the Clan is just so deadly as a team.”

 

Silent gets to his feet, and passes a brief glance at Jay Dawg which only gets a smile from the longest reigning hardcore champ(booyah). Silent peals Bo off the mat, but is rocked in the mid-section by a forearm. A mixed reaction for the two competitors in the ring as the fans can’t decide whom to hate more. Bo straightens out but is knocked back a step with an elbow strike. Before Bo can even react, another harsh elbow strike knocks him back. Silent takes a step back, pulls his arm, and thrusts it palm first into Bo’s already tender jaw, and knocks him spinning into a neutral corner with the shotei.

 

Stevens: “Somehow the handicapped team have isolated Perfect Bo! A very smart strategy!”

 

Silent calmly struts toward the corner, and can’t even prepare for Bo who dives at him, tackling him down and pummeling him with a barrage of fists. Sick and tired of his jaw in pain, Bo comes out hard with some vicious punches, wanting to draw some blood from Silent. The fists brutally connect with the jaw line, eye sockets and anywhere else on Silent’s face or in that vicinity. Silent suddenly places his feet into Bo’s chest, and flips him over to the mat. Bo rolls to his feet as Silent pops up, ignoring the punches that hit him. Bo retaliates with a kick to the ribs and follows with a facelock as Silent lands on his feet. Bo swings his arm over, crushing it into the back of Silent’s neck, and smashing him face first into the mat. Bo sits up, smiling at the flattening of the Slaughterer. He gets to his feet and receives a shock, as Silent is at his hands and knees, then back at his feet, a masochistic smile crawling over his face.

 

Riley: “Bah! No selling bastard! But he’s cool too! Blarg!”

 

Stevens: “These guys have no respect for moves, or pain! They just like to hurt people!”

 

Bo is ready to strike Silent, when the Slaughterer raises a hand, holding up one finger for wait. Bo obliges, as Silent points to Jay Dawg. Bo looks back to JD, wondering what is going on.

 

Stevens: “These two have had two hellacious hardcore battles! Believe it or not, they are the only people to pin each other in months!”

 

Bo nods his head at Jay Dawg, pointing to him, smiling to Silent… WHAM, and with a treacherous right hook knocks Silent back a foot. “You ain’t ever ignoring me, son!” Bo shouts into the ear of Silent, before rushing off the ropes. He rebounds hard and dives straight for the leg, clipping it and Silent goes down from the chop block. Bo picks up the clipped leg and drives an elbow into it, before grapevining it and applying a leg lace.

 

Stevens: “Smart move by Bo! The pain maybe there, but a limb is a limb! It has more uses!”

 

Bo proceeds to yank on the ankle, sending a painful shrill of energy out of Silent’s knee joint, and the no selling Slaughterer can’t help but show some signs of pain. Silent raises his arm and jams his palm right into Bo’s jaw! It only loosens the grip, but Silent repeats… again only loosening the grip. Finally some emotion shows in the eyes as he roars out, thrusting his palm… CRACK!! Bo releases and Silent rolls backward to freedom. Bo stands to his feet and out of the corner of his eye, spots the ball of Silent’s foot aiming right for his jaw, instinctively Bo blocks the shot. He pulls Silent in, and successfully this time, twists his knee into the mat with a dragon screw leg whip. Bo makes the tag to Breggan just as Silent returns to his feet… the Slaughterer may be able to defend mortal combat… but not a 285-pound freight train GORE GORE GORE!!! His lights out.

 

Stevens: “Holy guacamole!”

 

The fans go insane at the extreme power of the Gore that knocks Silent backwards and rolling… right into Thoth. A balancing legal man enters and the match is right back at its beginning. Thoth explodes out of his corner though, and leaps with his left leg forward, Breggan catches it, and in one fluid motion, Thoth spins his body downward, and something out of video game, kicks Breggan right in the chin like a mule! The lethal force makes Breggan do a backflip, and land harshly on his chest, on the ring apron, Bo can be seen leaving his post and rushing for Thoth. Bo leaps with a clothesline, but Thoth ducks down and hooks arms with Bo, lifting him high in the air with the momentum, and drops him to the mat with the flipping arm drag.

 

Stevens: “Thoth is cleaning the house!”

 

Breggan dazedly walks over to Thoth, and the Balancer locks his arm over the chest and hooks the leg, pushing forward, and snapping back with the Downward Spiral! Thoth makes a cover…

 

ONE…

 

 

TWO…

 

 

Bo dives in the air at Thoth.

 

 

TH..Thoth releases the count and lets Bo drop an elbow onto his own tag partner! Before Bo can apologize for his mistake, he gets a boot to the gut. Bo doubles over top of Breggan and Thoth rushes to the ropes, leaps in the air, leg out and hooks it over top of Bo’s neck, and drives him facefirst into the mat and chest over top of Breggan! The audience marks out like funky monkeys on crack doing the brass monkey as Thoth makes buffoons out of two of the fed’s biggest enforcers. Thoth turns his attention to JD and with a wave of the hand, demands that the hardcore champion gets some action.

 

Stevens: “Thoth has just taken two members of the Creative Control down and wants him some of JD!”

 

Riley: “He better realize that Breggan and Bo won’t stay down for long!”

 

Stevens: “This is what he wanted in the first place anyway, all three of them!”

 

Jay Dawg looks on from the apron, past Thoth and over to Silent, the smirk on both of their eyes. “You want some of me, bitch!” JD shouts toward Thoth, getting a determined nod for an answer. “Fine you’ll get some!” JD steps through the ropes to get a glimpse of Thoth, which like a hunter, hasn’t taken his eyes off his prey. JD tilts his head to Thoth, his smirk growing to extreme signs of mischievous sadism. Suddenly, Breggan and Bo swing their massive arms, right into Thoth’s back. Jay Dawg’s eyes flicker open, his scream of rage can be heard out loud as he leaps in the air, spins 360 degrees… CRACK!! Right into the jaw of Thoth with the Thai Roundhouse! Thoth timbers to the mat and small evidence of what looks to be a smile appears over the face of Silent as JD hops on top of Thoth, and begins punching him in the face.

 

Riley: “Now that was a roundhouse kick!”

 

Stevens: “There’s a 3 on 1 and Silent has no interest in helping Thoth!”

 

JD gets off of Thoth and with a gentle backhand to Bo, they walk to their corner, leaving Breggan to annihilate Thoth. On the apron, Bo and JD chuckle as Breggan peals Thoth off the mat and locks on a facelock, arm over the shoulder he pulls Thoth high in the air, and begins to start spinning around in a circle, 360 degrees, 720 degrees, 10 fucking 80 degrees and drops down. Thoth hits the mat hard from the corkscrew suplex and Breggan makes the cover, hands firmly over the chest!

 

ONE…

 

 

TWO…

 

 

THR…No! Thoth gets a shoulder up. Breggan looks to his corner, “Hurt him!” a quite enthusiastic response from Bo and JD.

 

Stevens: “Thoth is in a bit of trouble now!”

 

Riley: “Trouble!? Try a bloody death trap!”

 

Breggan pulls Thoth up, and belly to back waistlocks him. Letting Thoth’s arm rest around his neck, Breggan looks toward Bo and JD, getting a nod of approval, he lifts Thoth up high in the air… stalling while tipping Thoth back a bit… a bit more… a bit more… Thoth’s shoulders are parallel with Breggan’s just as the monster drops… and the sickening fall of the high angle belly to back suplex allows Thoth’s body to bend and diaphragm nearly cave in. Breggan makes another cover, looking at Silent and his partners.

 

ONE…

 

 

 

TWO…

 

 

 

THRE….NO!!! Breggan snaps his head over to JD and Bo. “Again!” They shout and Breggan hooks Thoth’s leg.

 

 

ONE…

 

 

TWO…

 

 

 

THRE…NO!! Thoth gets a shoulder up, and begins coughing out as he wastes more and more energy on kicking out. Breggan once more turns his head to Jay Dawg to see the hardcore champion slice his thumb over his throat.

 

Stevens: “Jay Dawg wants Breggan to finish Thoth once and for all!”

 

Riley: “Damn rights he does! Thoth is history!”

 

Breggan pulls Thoth off the mat as if he weighs nothing and into a standing headscissors. Breggan crosses the arms of Thoth and powers him up off the mat and into a Canadian Backbreaker. Thoth begins to struggle, knowing if the move is hit, it’s his doom, Silent is no longer of use. Trying to break the grip of a 285 pounder holding him in a double chickenwing and bending his back like a twig is an impossible task though. Thoth can only struggle, struggle some more and Breggan starts to walk backward, nearing the turnbuckles. Breggan snaps Thoth forward, and the Balancer is ready for another disfigurement over his face…No! His ankle hooks into the top rope of safety! He plants his other leg on the second turnbuckle, and with a stiff elbow shot knocks Breggan into the center of the ring.

 

Stevens: “Whoa! Thoth just escaped a sure match ender in Face the King! And I think we all know what is coming!”

 

Thoth steps to the top rope and the fans begins to go insane as the man launches himself off it, getting massive air and distance, having his arms be about a foot distance in between them, he grabs onto the face of Breggan and sits out in the mat… Breggan smashes face first hard from the Scum Gale! Thoth stays sitting for about a half second then falls back, resting on his back… the energy to make the pin is too much.

 

Stevens: “Scum Gale! The equalizer has just knocked Breggan senseless!”

 

The ref would start to count, but the two men have rolled onto their stomachs and begin crawling ever so slowly to their respective corners. The crowd is actually cheering for Silent, hoping that he can relieve Thoth of some of the stress… a meter for both men to travel… two feet… one foot… They reach out with their arms, and Breggan tags in Bo! Thoth reaches to Silent with his arm out stretched, but Silent pulls it back and turns his rear to Silent! Thoth’s eyes widen in anger at Silent, if the same could be said for the crowd, Silent would be lucky. Two fans leap over the guardrail, but security guards already haul them off. “YOU’RE A PUSSY!!” chants start to kick up as Bo pulls Thoth into the center of the ring.

 

Stevens: “Silent just turned his back on his partner!”

 

Riley: “And now he’s left to Bo!”

 

Bo picks up Thoth’s leg and the insane leverage turns the Balancer into a half crab. Feeling the pull in his thigh muscles, Thoth tries desperately to crawl to the ropes… but to his regret, the closest set is the one’s with Silent. Bo continues to yank on the leg, seeing if he can tear it right off. Thoth begins to crawl, the cheers building for him as he scrapes closer and closer to the ropes. To the audience’s surprise, Silent once more sticks his hand out for the tag.

 

Stevens: “Silent looks to be doing the right thing!”

 

Riley: “Maybe he feels that Thoth has suffered enough punishment!”

 

Silent pulls his arm back, and into his trenchcoat, he pulls out the steel tipped cane. He has a hold of the cane by the middle and sticks it through the ropes. Thoth looks at the cane and shakes his head no.

 

Stevens: “Thoth doesn’t want to cheat!”

 

Riley: “It’s already 3 on 1! That guy is a dumbass!”

 

Silent looks down at Thoth, the pain evident in his eyes. Silent looks at his trapped partner in anger, looking into his face as he crawls for the ropes. “You’ve gotten weak, Yuuichiro. Your so called honor is your weakness.” Silent reaches through the ropes and slaps Thoth across the face. He drops off the ring apron and once more, hate filled verbal assaults are directed in his direction.

 

Stevens: “Silent just set Thoth up for a mugging!”

 

Thoth would want nothing more to tear a whole through Silent, but he has his business in the ring, knowing that if he doesn’t get to a rope soon, his leg is going to be busted. Thoth makes the reach as Silent looks into his eyes from ringside. Bo shakes his head in denial, knowing the end is near as Thoth collapses, the fight drained out of him.

 

Stevens: “Thoth is out cold!”

 

Riley: “Ha ha ha! What a dumbass!”

 

One thing most submissionists hate more then anything…

 

…

 

The victim gets a second wind.

 

Thoth grabs the bottom rope like it’s his life. Out of breath, he looks to Silent, shaking his head. Bo releases the hold and raises his arms, getting applause from his teammates. Bo is fully aware that Thoth didn’t tap out, and grabs his sore leg, using it to pull him back to the center of the ring.

 

Stevens: “Thoth is just getting picked apart!”

 

On the apron, JD and Breggan can be seen cheering wildly for Bo… “Fuck him up, yo!” and Bo begins to stomp the face of Thoth. Each boot makes Thoth’s body shakes like Crowe’s mum’s vibrator. Thoth slowly journeys to his feet though, and Bo stands over him, and as if for a last ditch effort… DING!! Uppercut right into Bo’s crotch! Bo’s eyes bulge out and on the outside, a small smile creeps over the Silent One. Exhausted, Thoth gets to his feet and scoops Perfect Bo onto his shoulder… and Jay Dawg has had enough. He rushes in the ring as Thoth cradles Bo’s leg. Jay Dawg drops in front of Thoth, and with a backward sweep kick(Mortal Kombat style Ba-By!) knocks Thoth down hard into the mat with Bo on top of him!

 

Stevens: “Jay Dawg just cheap shotted Thoth!”

 

Riley: “Oh I suppose you are going to ignore the low blow!”

 

Bo slides out of the way and JD begins dropping his knee right into Thoth’s face. The sadism arising as he sickly looks to mess the Balancer up. Thoth tries to shield his face as now Breggan comes in and begins to stomp his chest. The ref looks like he is ready to call the match when Jay Dawg turns to him. Jay Dawg has a mic tossed to him and begins to shout at the ref.

 

Jamie: “Throw this match out and I’ll personally make sure you are down in the JL, reffing Cutthroat versus Jack the Ripper for the rest of your fucking life!”

 

Jay Dawg slowly bounces into the ropes and something hooks his ankle. Silent pulls JD out of the ring and stiffly hits him in the gut with a haymaker. JD retaliates with a punch of his own. The crowd starts to erupt as the league’s toughest fighters begin to go at it in round three.

 

In the ring, Perfect Bo and Lerrin Breggan pick Thoth up. Thoth suddenly pops them both with right hand, and drives his knee into Breggan’s gut. He turns to Bo and throws his arm up, European uppercut knocks the big man back a step…

 

-On the outside, Silent Irish whips JD. SMASH!! The hardcore champion hits the steps, flips frontward over them and lands on his back on the other side. Silent exposes his cane once more as JD ignores the pain, standing up. JD looks at Silent, telling him to bring it and the Slaughterer swings his cane! CLANG!!! Smoking the ringpole!

 

Riley: “Jay Dawg may be tough, but not stupid!”

 

JD jumps onto the steps, and dives off them, tackling Silent with a plancha. Silent hits the mat and JD starts to punch him in the face…

 

-In the ring, Thoth whips Perfect Bo into the corner. He turns to Lerrin Breggan, and softens him up with three quick punches, before Irish whipping him into Perfect Bo! Thoth rushes for the corner, leaps in the air, his knee straight out, cracking it into the face of Lerrin Breggan, and the back of Breggan’s head hits Bo in his tender jaw!

 

-Outside, JD and Silent are punching each other and reaching for a small object, on closer inspection, it is Silent’s steel tipped cane. JD knocks Silent down and reaches for the cane, but Silent recuperates in time to do the same to JD…

 

-In the ring, Breggan and Bo stumble to the center of the ring. Thoth climbs the turnbuckles, and the fans start to erupt! Thoth spreads his arms out like an eagle, and resting his eyes for a second, making sure his leg can take it, he leaps off the top turnbuckle!

 

-Silent grabs a hold of the cane, and swings for Jay Dawg’s head… JD moves!

 

-Thoth floats upside down, but Bo and Breggan stand in wait! The fans gasp as both Breggan and Bo catch Thoth in mid air, then pick him up high above their heads, so high that he leaves their arms and heads straight down… but Bo and Breggan catch him in a double ¾ nelson facelock… CRASH!!! The impact leaves a tiny spot in the mat from Thoth’s nose as Bo makes the cover…

 

-Outside, Silent hears the drastic impact and looks into the ring, allowing Jay Dawg to grab the cane, and crack him in the ribs with it.

 

 

ONE!!!

 

 

 

 

TWO!!!

 

 

 

JD swings the cane once more… CRACK!!! Connecting with the face of Silent, the Slaughterer timbers to the outside as JD look on for the final count.

 

 

 

 

THREE!!!!!!!

 

Metallica’s ‘Slither’ hits the speakers to the disapproval of the fans.

 

Funyon: “The winners of the match via pinfall, CREATIVE CONTROL!!!”

 

Bo and Breggan raise their arms on the inside, while JD smiles from the outside, dropping the cane over Silent. The three begin to walk up the ramp as the speechless announcers begin to determine what happened.

 

Stevens: “Did you just see that!?”

 

Riley: “I did! What power!”

 

In the ring, Thoth lays limp, as from the outside Silent hangs onto his cane, looking at Thoth maliciously.

[Guest BA_Baracus]

As Metallica’s “Slither” slowly fades from the PA, the camera returns to Thoth and Silent, both looking frustrated…but Silent considerably more so. As the Balancer slowly makes it to his feet, obviously feeling the after-effects of Perfect Bo and Lerrin Breggan’s assault, Silent slide back into the ring, cane in hand…

 

“Riley….he’s not going to…is he?”

 

FWOOOOOOOOSH! THUNK!

 

FWOOOOOOOOSH! THUNK!

 

FWOOOOOOOOSH! THUNK!

 

FWOOOOOOOOSH! THUNK!

 

FWOOOOOOOOSH! THUNK!

 

Silent isn’t finished.

 

The crowd boos the Silent One’s ambush on the beleaguered Thoth as the Slaughterer beckons impatiently for a microphone…

 

“Look at you, Yuuichiro,” sneers the Silent One, ignoring the chants of “SI-LENT SUCKS!” from the front row. “This is where your precious ‘honor’ gets you. Beaten-“

 

FWOOOOOOOOSH! THUNK!

 

“Broken-“

 

FWOOOOOOOOSH! THUNK!

 

“And bleeding-“

 

FWOOOOOOOOSH! THUNK!

 

FWOOOOOOOOSH! THUNK!

 

FWOOOOOOOOSH! THUNK!

 

“-Instead of standing tall, victorious, like you and I have so many times before! I have TRIED, Yuuichiro, I have tried to help you, but you have stubbornly-“

 

FWOOOOOOOOSH! THUNK!

 

“Refused-“

 

FWOOOOOOOOSH! THUNK!

 

“My…”

 

FWOOOOOOOOSH! THUNK!

 

”AID!”

 

The Slaughterer takes a deep breath, tries to collect himself, and steps away from Thoth, who has been busted open from one of Silent’s cane shots.

 

“Jesus, Riley, this is sickening. I know these two have issues, but…Jesus!”

 

”Calm down, Mark. It’s all part of Silent’s greater plan.”

 

”And what the hell plan is that?”

 

”…I…think…you’d have to ask him.”

 

Silent looks down at Thoth, who is still conscious despite Silent’s…encouragement.

 

“Get up.”

 

The Balancer rises to one knee.

 

“GET UP, you piece of shit.”

 

FWOOOOOOOOSH! THUNK!

 

FWOOOOOOOOSH! THUNK!

 

“GET UP!”

 

Silent leans in close…

 

”If you are even half the man your father was, Balancer….GET. TO. YOUR. FEET.”

 

FWOOOOOOOOSH! THUNK!

 

FWOOOOOOOOSH! THUNK!

 

FWOOOOOOOOSH! THUNK!

 

FWOOOOOOOOSH! THUNK!

 

FWOOOOOOOOSH! THUNK!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

…

…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Yuuichiro Kaesame –Thoth- stands up.

 

“Good Lord! How the hell is he standing after that?”

 

Riley can only shrug as the Balancer glares unsteadily at his assailant, a fire burning deep within his eyes…

 

…And Silent smiles.

 

“Good, Yuuichiro. Very good. There are some things that motivate you still, I see. I know you want to fight me, Yuuichiro, and I’d be happy to oblige you. But first…”

 

”First…you have to get up one more time.”

 

Quick as lightning, Silent drops his cane and his microphone and locks his arms around Thoth, applying a standing crossface on the dazed former Clannite. Then, before anyone else can so much as move, the Slaughterer lifts Thoth from his feet…turns…

 

…And drives his former friend’s unprotected head directly into the canvas.

 

“MOTHER OF GOD!” screams Mark Stevens, and the fans are in an uproar. The “HO-LY SHIT!” chat that breaks out towards the rafters nearly drowns out Grand Slam’s shouts. “Silent just…he just…Riley, what the hell did he just do?”

 

”Mark, it seems he’s more than a little disappointed in the Balancer tonight. Damn, that’ll hurt through next week, don’t you think?”

 

”Riley, I don’t think you understand the seriousness of the situation,” Stevens mutters as paramedics rush out to ringside. “What Silent just did to Thoth…is one of the Demonstar Drivers. Why Stubby hasn’t banned those god-awful moves, I can’t say, but…good God almighty, Bobbi. Silent could’ve KILLED Thoth with that maneuver.”

 

A stretcher is hurried out to ringside as “Serial Killer” hits the PA, and the Silent One walks contentedly up the ramp, cane and microphone in hand. Back in the ring, Yuuichiro Kaesame is loaded onto the stretcher as Silent’s voice rings out one last time…

 

”If you walk again, Yuuichiro Kaesame….if you walk again, then I will fight you. After all…” The Slaughterer laughs, a cold, chilling laugh that pierces through the noise of the crowd…

 

“If you can get up from that, you really ARE better…than your father ever was…”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

This has been SWF Smarkdown.

[Guest BA_Baracus]

Singles Match

Mercury vs. Tom Flesher

- Flesher beats Mercury and sends a message to Tod deKindes by doing it with his finisher!

 

Singles Match

Xero vs. Frost

- Frost gets the win. Ash and TNT show up somewhere in this match too.

 

No DQ - Handicapped Match

X Force 9 {Ash Ketchum & Renegade} vs. Chris Wilson

- Diveflamer costs Piss Wilson the win.

 

Singles Match

Chris Raynor vs. “TNT” Taylor Nicholas Thompson

- Raynor uses the power of evil to win.

 

Singles Match

Sacred vs. The Boston Strangler

- CC rools jer arse.

 

MAIN EVENT

Handicapped Tag Team Match

Silent/Thoth vs. Creative Control {Lerrin Breggan, Jay Dawg, & Perfect Bo}

- ...and they just did it again!