SWF Wrath (September 10, 2002)

September 11, 2002

SJL Wrath (September 10, 2002)

Venue: First Union Center in Pittsburg, PA

Singles Match

Judge Mental vs. Cutthroat

- Ummmm…for some reason or another, the very talented and impressive newcomer, Judge Mental, has challenged the SJL resident jobber extraordinare to a match. But don’t worry people, we’ll keep it short as to not make you vomit at seeing Cutthroat breathe. I know how much we all hate that.

Battle Royal for the #1 Contendership to the European Title

Leon Sharpe vs. Blank vs. Tim Dillon vs. Jack The Ripper

- Now that we have a new Euro champ, it’s time to find another #1 contender. The new guys have been writing and doing well, so they’ll get a chance here…Battle Royal style. Fo sheezy!

-Tag Team Match

C.I.A./Thor vs. sWo (“Hollywood” Spike Jenkins/Matt Myers)

- Well, both Mak and Thor have had issues with the sWo. Sounds like a tag match to me.

World Title Contender’s Match #1

Steel Pipe Ladder Match

Jacob Helmsley vs. Mike Van Silcen

- This was supposed to happen some time ago, but for some reason, both men were loving the cock that night. Well, here it is again, and this time, to give them added incentive, there’s a spot in a #1 contender’s match at stake. The winner here will face the winner of tonight’s later match in a match World Title #1 Contender’s Match on Crimson next week.

No-DQ Singles Match

Flexxx vs. Manson

- Well, Flexxx was supposed to come back on Metal and rejoin his sWo teammates. However, he instead called them sellouts and a bunch of other bad, bad names. So, at the request Flexxx, Edwin happily booked this match because he’s just so tired of Manson’s and the sWo’s fucking shit.

MAIN EVENT

World Title #1 Contender’s Match

Fugue vs. Mak Francis

- Seeing as how he just lost the world title to CIA, Mak normally would get an automatic rematch…but Edwin doesn’t like him or the sWo. So…Edwin is forcing Mak to defend his right to a rematch against Fugue, in hopes that he will never again have to see the Franchise with gold around his waist. The winner of this match will face the winner of the earlier match with a shot at the world title on the line. So…for Mak to get to his rematch, he must first defeat Fugue, and then either Helmsley or MVS. What a bastard that red-headed Brit is…or maybe it’s just the booking committee (coughthuggcough) is just a bitch. Oh yeah, and did I mention that Fugue is in the sWo too, which makes it extra fun for Edwin. God, he’s a bastard.

September 11, 2002

The crowd cheers hard after watching the now ending the clip show on the SmarkTron that played during the commercial break. The camera pans across the crowd, showing the diehard SJL fans going wild in anticipation for the show to come. With a quick cut, our announcers sit before us.

“Welcome to SJL Wrath tonight, down in the First Union Center in Philadelphia!” Axis says excitedly. “We are just getting started with tonight’s show with the opening match between perennial jobber Cutthroat and the SJL’s newest wrestler, Judge Mental. It would seem this is a forlorn conclusion, but anything can happen here in the SJL.”

Suddenly the arena blacks out, with the faint rhythms of a song playing. A blue pyro shoots straight down above the entranceway, giving the arena a metallic blue look for a moment before a giant thunderclap echoes throughout the arena and Our Lady Peace’s “Whatever” begins to play over the sound system. To sound of a massive pop, the local jobber king Cutthroat comes out looking ticked. He climbs into the ring, jumping over the top rope as Funyon begins to do his spiel. “Weighing in at 216 lbs…. HEY!!” Funyon is cut off as Cutthroat jerks the mic from his hand. He clears his throat and begins to speak.

“Uhh… it seems that Cutthroat has come out a little earlier than usual. We haven’t even done our pre-match King-Edwin spiel yet.”

Edwin and King turn around, revealing a set of life-size rock’em sock’em robots in the image of both the mega face and heel.

“Aw, you mean we can’t?” a plaintive Edwin asks as Axis shakes his head.

Angry, King yells out “You SUCK Cutthroat! God damn moron…”

“HEY PEOPLE!” Cutthroat screams into the mic. The crowd answers back with a hearty “HEY CUTTHROAT!” Cutthroat paces wildly around the ring. “You know what? That damn old man challenged me tonight to a match. And tonight, I’m gonna knock his ass out!” The crowd cheers as he slips under the ropes and down onto the concrete to be closer to the fans. He slaps a couple close hands and fires up the crowd.

“Did you hear that? Cutthroat is going to try to end his losing streak tonight!” Says an excited Axis.

King, meanwhile, begins to giggle away as he tapes the moment with a camcorder. “This is comedy gold!”

“I know that this guy coming down to the ring is scary. Ohh! Look at ME! I’m old! I’m gonna get you!” Cutthroat says, mimicking the walk of a hobbled old man, which causes the crowd to laugh.

“NOW TESTIFY!” Blares across the loudspeakers as flaming pyros shoot straight up into the air as Judge Mental comes out with a mic also. He looks at Cutthroat with a devilish grin. “Cutthroat, who do you think you are? Not a wrestler. Oh no, no, no. Real wrestlers tend to ‘win’ every now and then. To my-?” Cutthroat looks at him and shoots back. “God damnit, old man, just shut up.” The crowd roars in approval. Mental walks closer to the ring as he speaks. “Don’t talk to me like that. Cutthroat, you AREN’T a wrestler. You are a freak, a side-show amusement for these people to watch.” A slight chuckle comes from Cutthroat as he responds. “I’m a freak? Look whose still wrestling at 80!” The crowd laughs as an angry Judge Mental climbs into the ring through the ropes. “You shouldn’t be alive at all; your parents should have drowned you as a child. But that’s why I’m here; to right the mistakes of the past.” Mental throws the mic away, flinging it onto the concrete. Cutthroat looks at the crowd and gives them a “What should I do?” look, to which they say “KICK HIS ASS! KICK HIS ASS!” Cutthroat grins and gives an excited nod, drops the mic, and dives through the bottom ropes as the ref signals for the bell.

*DING DING DING*

Axis pulls his mic up to his mouth. “And after a little verbal sparring between these two, the match is finally on!”

The two competitors circle each other, staring into each others eyes. They contrast perfectly; the youthful impetuousness of Cutthroat with the aged wariness of the Judge. Impetuousness does its work, and Cutthroat does a quick dash forward and brings his arm up to hit the Razor Punch™, nailing Mental in the face! Mental steps back a bit, but strikes the young man with a right punch that sends Cutthroat to the ground.

“Odd,” says Edwin. “I thought all of Cutthroat’s punches were fatal.”

“Only in that little mind of his Edwin,” King explains to Edwin. “Considering there’s a mind at all….”

After readjusting his jaw, Cutthroat gets back up, only to take a drop kick to the back. He staggers a bit towards the ropes, grabbing them for support as he turns to see Mental’s arm connecting with his face. Unable to stop the massive force that hit him, Cutthroat flips right over the ropes and to the outside of the ring as the ref begins the countout.

“Mental is in full control of this match, sending the Extreme one out-” Axis says before coming to a realization. “Hey, who calls him the Extreme one?”

“Himself” Answer King and Edwin in unison.

Cutthroat picks himself up off the ground and shakes his head from side to side, trying to regain his bearings. He looks up at Mental who stands in the ring with arms crossed, waiting for him to come back in. At the four count, he dives under the ropes and quickly stands up, motioning for Mental to come and take his best shot.

“Is he crazy?” King says chuckling. “Didn’t he notice what happened LAST time Mental hit him with a punch?”

Mental steps up to the arrogant challenge, throwing another hard right which Cutthroat effortlessly dodges. Mental tries again, and Cutthroat just shifts to the side and Mental punches air. “Come on, old man. Can’t hit me?” says the confident jobber. “Here, try catching THIS!” Cutthroat goes on one foot as he delivers a quick kick to Mental’s stomach. Mental doubles over after having to wind knocked out of him, and Cutthroat flaunts the advantage. He struts around for a moment in front of Mental, causing the crowd to cheer like crazy for the charismatic jobber king. Finally he decides to do something as he hits the ropes, bouncing off and jumps up as if for a hurricanrana. Unfortunately for him, his showboating allowed Mental to regain his breath and draw Cutthroat into the trap. Mental stands full height as Cutthroat begins to jump, and the Judge catches a surprised jobber by the legs. The Judge leans back, as if was going to fall over from the momentum of Cutthroat, but he brings himself forward and plants Cutthroat into the mat with a Courthouse Slam.

“Cutthroat seeming gives up whatever advantage he has to appease the crowd and allows the Judge to regain control over the match.”

As Cutthroat lays on the ground unmoving, the Judge gets up and pulls the jobber to his feet. The veteran wraps his arms around Cutthroat’s waist and arcs the boy over his head and to the mat in one lightning quick motion. The Judge turns over and gets up to his feet and stands over the unmoving jobber, a look of utter disgust on his face. Cutthroat begins to stir, trying to roll over, but the Judge pushes him down with his foot like a cat toying with a mouse. Bored of this, the Judge stands Cutthroat upright as the jobber weakly tries to push away. He whips him toward the ropes, but Cutthroat stumbles, and begins to fall as he hits the ropes, bouncing off them and collapsing in a heap on the ground.

“Cutthroat’s so out of it he can’t even be whipped into the ropes!” says King. “Mental should just pin him now and get that candy-ass idiot out of here.”

Mental comes at Cutthroat, ready to pick him up when the little man springs to life and punches him right in the jaw! A surprised Mental staggers backward as the jobber king runs up with a big drop kick! The crowd is on their feet as Mental falls over onto his back and Cutthroat does… wait for it….. a standing back flip? The crowd cheers for the little showboating, but Mental has recovered and hits Cutthroat with his own drop kick, knocking Cutthroat straight to the ground.

“He did a back flip? Why? That doesn’t even hurt Mental!” says King, dumbfounded by Cutthroat’s actions.

Cutthroat rolls on the ground, rubbing his jaw in an attempt to ease the pain, as Mental walks over to him again. He picks him up for the umpteenth time in the match, grapples him and brings the jobber into a vertical position of a suplex. Instead of falling backwards, though, Mental shifts Cutthroat around while in the vertical position and brings him down in Powerbomb fashion. The man goes for the first pin of the match as the ref goes down for the count.

ONE!

TWO!

THRE-NO! Cutthroat somehow, someway, got his shoulder up!

“WHAT!? HOW COULD HE KICK OUT OF AN ORANGE CRUSH?!” Screams King.

“Strike one up for the little guy! So now the score is now what, Cutthroat 1, Mental 20?” quips in Edwin.

Mental is a little stunned, but he gets up, dragging Cutthroat up with him. Grabbing the jobber by the wrist, he whips him at the ropes hard. The little man flies off the ropes right into Mental, who lifts him up easily and turns 180 degrees to slam him down in the direction he just came from.

”Corkscrew Suplex from Mental, and this match should be over now.” Says Axis.

Mental goes for the quick pin.

ONE!

TWO!

THRE-NO! Mental lifts Cutthroat’s shoulder off the ground just before the 3-count!

The crowd rains boos down upon the ring as stands the near unconscious Cutthroat up into sitting position. Mental straddles Cutthroat’s right shoulder, grabs the boy’s arm, and pulls it across his chest for a Pumphandle Armbar! Cutthroat suddenly springs to life, screaming in pain as Mental tries to wrench Cutthroat’s arm out of its socket. Cutthroat tries to struggle out, but Mental is far too strong for Cutthroat to break the hold.

“Finally, Cutthroat can end this match. All he needs to do is tap.” Comments Axis after breathing a sigh of relief.

Cutthroat squirms, still trying to get loose, as Mental pulls away. The pain, almost unbearable, overtakes Cutthroats and he finally submits.

*TAP TAP TAP*

The ref signals for the bell, and Mental continues on with his Armbar. Cutthroat furiously taps against the mat as Mental pulls harder… harder….HARDER…. until….

*POP*

A sickening wet pop resonates throughout the arena as the crowd becomes dead silent. Mental nonchalantly let’s go of the arm, which now falls limp to Cutthroat’s side. Cutthroat rolls onto his side, screaming out in pain as the ref walks over to Judge Mental and begins yelling at him.

“Dear God, he dislocated his arm!” Axis cries, looking away in disgust.

“Who the hell does he think he is?!?!” says Edwin, infuriated by what Mental has just done.

“He’s the MAN, that’s who he is! Not since Silent nearly killed him in the World Title tournament have I seen Cutthroat be beaten like this.”

Mental gives the ref a backhanded swipe across the face, knocking the ref away and to the ground. The 6’6” man walks past the ref, who scrambles out of the ring for reinforcements, and to the injured Cutthroat. He picks him up by his limp arm, and begins to whip him back and forth with it. He begins to give the little man backhands, and it now looks like a game of Cutthroat paddleball as the crowd screams pleas for someone to do something.

King begins to laugh aloud at Cutthroat’s pain as Edwin shoots him a nasty look. “What’s so funny? Is this some sort of joke?”

King looks at him and says “Yeah, of course it is. It’s that Cutthroat is a clown. I mean, it works on so many levels.”

Now getting bored of the game he is playing with Cutthroat, Mental decides to finish it. He pulls Cutthroat down into Powerbomb position and prepares for his finisher. He pulls Cutthroat’s arms into straight jacket position and tries to pull him up, but he can’t: the dislocated arm slides out of position, making him unable to complete the move. Mental gives a little laugh at the irony at this, and pushes the unconscious Cutthroat to the ground Before he can do anything else, music begins to play and the crowd begins to cheer.

“I…. STAND ALONE!!”

The crowd roars up as Kamikaze comes out at the top of the entrance ramp to the tune of Godsmack’s “I Stand Alone”. He waves to the fans with one hand as Judge Mental looks up and stares at him. The EMTs take their chance, jumping into the ring and sliding the comatose Cutthroat out and onto a stretcher.

“KA-ZE! KA-ZE! KA-ZE!” The crowd chants wildly as he walks midway down the entrance ramp before stopping and raising a mic to his mouth.

“Hey Judge, guess what? I heard about what you did to Blank at Metal….”

Mental jumps down to the apron and grabs a mic from Funyon.

Kamikaze continues. “Well, I didn’t actually see the match, but I heard you really taught Blank a lesson. I-- at first I was sorta glad you did something to him. I mean, I’ve been on the other side of the coin; I had him go spastic on me. So I thought it would be good to show him how it feels. But….” Kaze glances around, then ponders for a moment before speaking. “Then I saw the tape.”

Mental speaks up over his commandeered mic. “Did you enjoy what you see? Or did you find it a little too stomach.” he asks in a sarcastic tone.

Kaze looks at him and speaks up again. “No, I didn’t enjoy what I saw. I watched it a dozen times, watching you do what you did to Blank. I knew that you weren’t teaching him a lesson, you just wanted to hurt someone.” He stops for a moment to look over and say “I’m getting there, I’m getting there. Hold your horses!” He shoos away the invisible annoyance and keeps talking. “I thought, ‘I can’t let this go on!’, but I didn’t know what to do. Then Maria told me. She said that if I was the only one that noticed what you were really doing, then I was the only one that could stop you. So that’s what I’m going to do.”

The crowd cheers like mad for Kaze, with a good part of the fans now chanting his name. Mental speaks up, and the cheers instantly turn to jeers.

“Really? Stop me?” He says, stunned at the audacity of Kamikaze’s mission. “You couldn’t take out Blank. What makes you think you can handle me? I’d destroy you. Do you really want to end up like that fool, half dead on the way to the hospital?” He points to where Cutthroat was, and the crowd boos loudly.

Kaze oddly enough pulls some air back and again says to nothingness “Look, this is MY fight. I’ll talk for myself.” He looks back at Mental. “Yeah, Blank got me once. But that match against Blank was just that, a match. What I’m doing now, putting my foot down and saying enough is enough, is something much more. I can stand to lose a match, but I’m not going to lose this. I’m on a mission; I have a goal now. And I’m not gonna stop ‘til it's accomplished.” The crowd gives a huge pop again to the new hero, while Edwin gets up with a mic.

“Well, it seems that Kamikaze is calling you out, Judge. Now, I can book a match right now if you want for Crimson; it’s no skin off my back. You don’t have to accept of course, but then you might come across as, oh, what’s that barnyard animal…” The crowd yells “CHICKEN!” in answer of Edwin’s question. “Oh, that’s right, you’d be a chicken. Or, I mean, just considered one. So Judge, do you think you are ready for someone like Kamikaze?”

The Judge looks at Edwin and then stares at Kamikaze for a few moments, sizing him up. He brings the mic back up to his mouth. “Mr. Commissioner, I’d be glad to send another fool to the ER.” He drops the mic and grabs his robes as he leaves up the entrance ramp. Before he leaves, he stops right next to Kaze, and they turn and look at each other. Mental puts on a sly grin while the Kaze looks at him with a crazed look in his eye.

"Can't do it, not yet. Not yet, not yet, nononono..." Kamikaze rambles and twitches as the crowd quiets down, anticipating a fight. But Kaze simply watches as Mental walks right out. Kamikaze gives a hoarse warcry, stirring the crowd to cheer again, then Kaze darts backstage.

“Well, that certainly was a surprise.” Remarks Axis, who can’t believe the strange turn of events.

“Yeah, I never knew that Kaze guy had a death wish.” King comments, shaking his head. “Too bad: his loss. Of life, I mean.”

“Well, it seems that the up-and-coming Kamikaze is stepping up to stop Judge Mental’s wave of sadism. But does he have the experience to stop the old gun?” asks Axis to his pair of announcing associates.

Edwin is the first to answer. “If he really believes what he’s doing is the right thing, then yes, he’ll come out on top of this. Good always beats Evil.”

King quips his opinion in as well. “Yeah, and Napoleon thought he was doing the right thing by invading Russia. Please, he’s just another squirrel to be turned to road kill under the steamroller that is Judge Mental.”

“Well, we’ll be back after these messages. But don’t go away; we still have a Battle Royal for the Number One Contendership of the European Championship, a tag team match of CIA and Thor versus the sWo likes of ‘Hollywood’ Spike Jenkins and Matt Myers, a sure-to-be-brutal steel pipe ladder match between the Amazin’ One, Mike Van Siclen, and the Psycho Mantis, Jacob Helmsley, a old grudge match between a newly returned Flexx and Manson, and finally-”

“Oh, God, hurry it Axis! Just tell them to stay tuned.” Says King.

“I’m going, I’m going! And our Main-event, a clash between the sWo’s top two, Mak Francis against Fugue! So stay tuned for some more exciting action on SJL Wrath!”

Cut to commercial…….

September 11, 2002

Funyon: The following match is a four way elimination match for the number one contendership to the SJL European title!

We hear cheers from the crowd.

Funyon: Introducing first… Hailing from Detroit, Michigan, he weighs in at 300 pounds, LEON SHARPE!

"Something bad is gonna happen" by Fenix TX starts to play. The crowd cheers as Leon Sharpe walks out though the curtains in his t-shirt and black pants. Sharpe walks down to the ring with his duffel bag of t-shirts, he makes a few sells, hands out his own t-shirt and then he steps over the top rope to enter the ring.

Funyon: Introducing next.. Hailing from London, England, he weighs in at 230 pounds, JACK THE RIPPER!

We see just enough pyro comes out so that it illuminates the entrance and the ramp. Marilyn Manson's "Fight Song" erupts from the sound system as Jack makes his way down the ramp. The lights come back and the pyro stops Jack "the Ripper" enters the ring and taunts the crowd.

Funyon: Introducing third..

"Stick 'em up" by Quarashi starts to play

Funyon: Weighing in at 190 pounds, BLANK!

We hear a storm of boos from the fans. Blank comes out from the back and he proceeds to skate down the ramp while performing small tricks on his way to the ring. We notice a Leon Sharpe section of fans booing and tossing cups at Blank. Blank leaps off his board and onto the apron where he enters the ring normally and then he begins stretching.

Funyon: Introducing last..

All of a sudden Bagpipe’s blare across the speakers

"Face down in the gutter, won’t admit defeat!"

Funyon: He’s from Limerick, Ireland, weighing in at 168 pounds, TIM DILLON!

The fans all rise from their seats and peer towards the entrance as the music plays but then the cheap, green shamrock shaped confetti of doom falls from random spots in the rafters. As the fans try to catch it, the opening vocal cords of Dropkick Murphy’s "Barroom Hero" end. as the song goes more in depth, Dillon steps out. Suddenly, orange and green pyro explodes very close to him.

Axis makes an observation during the introduction "WHOA! Wait a minute here! Leon Sharpe just attacked Blank from behind as he was stretching! Sharpe is kicking and punching Blank!", and indeed he was right. Sharpe attacked while Blank was stretching, showing his anger towards the Blank Man for his first loss. "Daddio! This is Sharpe releasing his anger over his first loss to Blank." Says Edwin, the Yogi Berra of the Wrestling world, as he shows minimal disgust over what he feels is a justified action. King says "What ever happened to waiting before you sneak attacked a guy?" in his mock concern, but you know he enjoys the sight of people attacking each other.

Sharpe keeps on attacking Blank during Dillon’s walk to the ring. Sharpe picks up the skateboard and hits Blank over the head with it with such force that the board is cracked over Blank’s head. "I wonder what is cracked more, Blank’s skateboard or his skull?" says Axis. While this goes on, Tim Dillon steps onto the stage to cheers. His attire includes a black t-shirt and the green font that reads, "End the Fighting" on the back; he wears khaki cargo pants with shamrocks on the sides. He also wears black Emerica shoes with shamrocks above toes. He stalks down the ramp in a boxer’s defensive pose, his fists clutched and by his face. He throws out a couple of punches into the air and fan’s willing hand as he slides into the ring.

*DINGDINGDING*

We start the match as Sharpe is beating on Blank while Jack the Ripper attacks Tim Dillon. We notice Blank might be bleeding a little bit from the head due to the skateboard shot. Jack the Ripper chops and punches Dillon in the other corner. Jack’s luck with the Irishman, Dillon, is minimal as Dillon takes control over Jack early. Dillon hits a dropkick on the luckless East Londoner Jack, reflecting what might be the Irish/British rivalry that has lasted for many centuries. Sharpe punches and chokes Blank over in the other corner, but Blank uses his smooth crafted speed to escape. Blank begins to land hard kicks on Sharpe’s legs. Dillon hits an armdrag on Jack, taking him into the middle of the ring, where Jack catches the attention of Blank. Blank decides to start kicking Jack, since he has the chance to. The fans are mixed in their reaction to Blank v. Jack the Ripper, as we hear some positive reaction in the favor of the man they call Blank, while he kicks Jack the Ripper.

Sharpe gets out of the corner and laughs in confidence at the sight of Blank not paying attention to him. Sharpe stands behind Blank and waffles him to the mat with a forearm to the back of his neck. Sending Blank down hard. Dillon takes the chance and he drops an elbow onto Jack the Ripper as Blank gets onto his back so he could crabwalk against Sharpe. His crabwalking proves effective as he kicks at Sharpe’s legs while moving fast to avoid him at the moment. Dillon pounds on Jack some more, Dillon kicks Jack in the kneecap and clotheslines him down to the mat before going for a cover.

One!

Two!

And a kickout. The Referee holds up two fingers as Jack tries to compose himself. Meanwhile, Sharpe is still trying to fight the crabwalking Blank, but Blank proves too fast to let Sharpe move in and stop him from breaking this up. Dillon beats on Jack some more, powerslaming the Ripper to the mat. Dillon is about to go for a cover when he notices Blank and Sharpe. Dillon runs in and jumps right onto Blank’s chest, catching him by surprise. Dillon punches it out with Blank as Sharpe walks over to beat up on Jack the Ripper some, reminding the fans of Sharpe’s first victory nearly a week ago.

Meanwhile, Blank and Dillon exchange blows in another part of the ring. Blank starts hitting his kicks on Dillon, sending him reeling back into the ropes. Blank hits more kicks to the midsection of Dillon, but Dillon caught the foot on one kick, spinning Blank around and clotheslining him to the mat.

Axis mentions to the fans "Blank down because of that clothesline!", as Dillon kicks at the one they call Blank. Sharpe is in the other corner, beating up on Jack the Ripper a bit. Jack is able to get into control though an eyerake. Jack walked back a few steps before he went for a spear on Sharpe, but when he hit Sharpe with the spear, Sharpe didn’t move an inch.

"Sharpe is standing his ground here!" Axis proclaims as Sharpe kicks at Jack. Sharpe drops an elbow to the back of the head of Jack, sending him to the canvas. Meanwhile, Dillon is caught by a spinning kick from Blank. Blank whips Dillon into the corner and charges in hitting an elbow to the head of Dillon. Meanwhile, Sharpe is just toying with Jack, but Jack hits some sudden elbows to the head and he whips Sharpe into the ropes, Sharpe moves his arm out for a clothesline, but Jack ducks it and hits a neckbreaker on Sharpe, taking the big man down to the canvas. Jack then goes for a cover

One!

Two!

Sharpe kicks out after the count of two. Blank is whipped into the corner by Dillon and he comes in to hit Blank with a clothesline. Sharpe brushes off Jack and walks into the corner, where he and Dillon start to double-team Blank. Sharpe whispers something into Dillon’s ear.

"Don’t listen to him Dillon, he wants to steal your lucky charms!" Suicide King proclaims. Dillon whips Blank into the ropes and ducks, Blank leapfrogs over him and Sharpe hits Blank with a Big Boot in a double team manuever. Sharpe picks up Jack and puts him between his legs for a powerbomb, but, Blank hit Dillon with a mean kick behind Sharpe’s back and takes him down. Blank then went to the corner and waited on a turnbuckle. Sharpe lifted Jack up and drilled him with a Jackknife. But, before Sharpe could cover, Blank hit Jack with ‘My Final Heaven’. Landing on top of Jack and pinning him down.

One! Went the referee as his hand slapped the mat

Two! Sharpe looked at this with anger at this usurpation

But, before Blank could eliminate Jack, Sharpe hit him on the back with an Elbowdrop, which broke up the cover attempt. Jack quivered on the mat after feeling the Powerbomb and the Frog Splash. As Sharpe and Blank fought it out, with Blank kicking Sharpe and Sharpe trying to brush him off, Tim Dillon made it to his feet. Dillon looked at the fight between Sharpe and Blank and then he looked at Jack. Tim Dillon picked Jack the Ripper off from the canvas, lifted him up in an inverted face lock and then dropped him hard.

"BLOOD AND WHISKEY!" Axis screamed, as Jack was out for good now.

"One!" the referee counted.

"Two!", the fans looked at this with interest while cheering a bit.

"Three!", the fans got to their feet and applauded Tim Dillon

Funyon proclaimed to the world that "Jack the Ripper has been eliminated". Jack was nudged out of the ring so he could make his way to the back to collect another losers purse for his hard work.

Tim Dillon smiled and posed in celebration over his pinfall over Jack the Ripper. As Sharpe and Blank battled, Sharpe hit Blank with a hard shot and put him into the corner. Sharpe then saw Dillon and smirked, an idea loomed. Sharpe knew a vulnerable person when he saw one and he walked towards Dillon.

Sharpe hits Dillon hard from behind out of nowhere! Sharpe seemed to think that if he could get rid of Dillon quickly, he might stand a better chance to win, since he would know more about how to battle Blank than the Guiness Gladiator, Tim Dillon. Sharpe hit Dillon with some more hard strikes as Dillon was stunned over what seems to be the shredding of the Sharpe/Dillon alliance. Sharpe geared up for another strike, but then Blank came in to hit Sharpe with another custom kick of his. Sharpe wobbled forward in shock over the kick as Blank kicked and kicked some more at the 6’10" sequoia called Sharpe.

Dillon used this opening to escape the corner and take a breather. Dillon must have realized that if he let Sharpe and Blank fight, then he’d have the advantage later. Sharpe irish-whipped Blank into a corner and he ran in, but Blank hit him on the chin with a dropkick, causing Sharpe to be even more dazed. Blank used this opportunity to hit Sharpe with a DDT, Blank followed up with a guillotine legdrop and he goes for a cover.

One!.

Two!, Kickout, Sharpe kicks out of that. Blank waits for Sharpe to get up, and then he hits Sharpe with a legsweep, putting him on his back. Blank taunts the downed Sharpe and then Dillon comes up from behind Blank, he puts his arm between Blank’s legs and pulls his shoulders onto the mat with a school boy rollup

One!

Two!

Blank kicks out of that surprise pinfall attempt. Sharpe retreats to a corner to watch Blank and Dillon battle. Dillon goes for a dropkick, but Blank moves back and leaves Dillon to fall down without hitting anything. Blank unloads with some kicks to Dillon’s head as he lay on the mat. Dillon manages to slide and get to the ropes so he could get back on his feet. Blank hit Dillon with a punch to the head, a jab to the head and a spin kick, dazing him some more. Blank used his knee and thrust it into the midsection of Dillon, before putting him in a front face lock and turning that into a neckbreaker. Blank picks up Dillon, only to be stunned with a kick to his knee. Dillon then moves in for a clothesline, but Blank ducks the clothesline. Blank turned back to Dillon, only to have Dillon turn back to face him and hit him with an armdrag takedown.

Sharpe watches on as Dillon exerts control in this match. King notes "Look at Sharpe, he’s just sitting back doing nothing. He’s better at wrestling than he is at selling t-shirts". Dillon backs up and then he uses his shoulders as a battering ram called the Spear, or the Gore, to the midsection of Blank. Dillon then unleashes his Irish fists of fury on Blank’s face, hitting him with closed-fisted punches. The referee admonishes Dillon for his closed fists. Dillon picks Blank up and whips him off the ropes, Dillon drops down for what might be a monkey flip, but Blank hooks his legs and falls back, slingshotting Dillon’s throat over the top rope. Dillon holds his throat in pain as Blank walks back and kicks him hard in the throat. Dillon falls to the mat in pain as the referee warns Blank. Sharpe is seen walking out of the corner, only to walk to the other corner.

Blank picks up Dillon, and then he drops him back to the canvas with a backdrop. Sharpe is visibly checking an imaginary watch in the corner, and that catches Blanks eye, enraging him. Blank charges into the corner and he flips over Sharpe, using him as a running board in what is called a ‘Tiger Wall flip’. As Sharpe is incensed at this, Dillon gets up and hits Blank with a release German suplex. As Blank lay on the mat, Sharpe gets out of the corner and walks towards the downed Blank. Dillon looks at this and he dropkicks Sharpe. Sharpe stumbles back to the ropes and Dillon hits him with a forearm, sending Sharpe over the top rope. But, Sharpe lands on his feet on the floor. Sharpe shakes his head alittle bit and gets back on the ring apron, as he stands on the spron, Dillon unleashes a dropkick, which sends Sharpe tumbling to the ring floor. Blank walks over to a corner and starts stretching as Sharpe gets back to his feet.

Sharpe steps back on the apron as Dillon lays in wait, planning another dropkick. When Dillon charges in with a dropkick, Sharpe grabs onto the middle rope and leans back, causing Dillon to miss his target. Sharpe steps over the top rope and picks up Dillon. Sharpe whips Dillon into the corner and comes in with an elbow to the face. Sharpe does a ‘pictureframe’ and hits another elbow on Dillon’s head. Sharpe then begins to choke Dillon with his big black boot. The referee gives out a count to five on the chokehold. Sharpe pulls back on a rope as he chokes. "One", Sharpe smirks a bit at the contorted face of Dillon in the choke, "Two", Sharpe nods to the crowd. "Three" and Sharpe suddenly releases the hold. Sharpe picks Dillon up and gives him a belly-to-belly suplex, flinging Dillon over his head like a light case of luggage.

Sharpe points at Blank and makes a hand gesture that means ‘I will break you’, causing Blank to yawn in sarcastic reply, before Sharpe goes back to work on Dillon. Sharpe picks up Dillon and scoop slams him to the mat. Sharpe then goes off the ropes and drops his big leg on the chest of Dillon. Sharpe gets to his feet and bounces off the ropes again. Before Sharpe can drop another leg on Dillon, Blank comes in and hits Sharpe on the back with a spinning heel kick which sends Sharpe tumbling towards the ropes. Blank hits Sharpe hard with a roundhouse kick, sending Sharpe though the ropes and onto the ring apron.

As Blank waited for a shot to nail Sharpe good. Dillon got to his feet and hit Blank with a kneelift to the gut. Dillon then whipped Blank into the ropes and as Blank came off the ropes, Dillon gave him a Hurricarana. Sharpe gets back into the ring and as Dillon is getting up from the rana, Sharpe charges in for a lariat, only to have Dillon duck and get behind Sharpe, where he put Sharpe in a hammerlock and dropped him down with a reverse DDT. Dillon then went for a cover.

One!

Two!

Th- No! Sharpe got his foot on the ropes. Before Dillon could follow up, Blank made his presence known by giving Dillon another kick to the head. Blank gives Dillon a hurricarana, following up that move with some punches from the mount position. Sharpe gets up and hits Blank from behind, knocking him to the canvas face first. Sharpe glances at the downed Dillon and extends a hand to him. Dillon looks at this skepticly, but decides to go for it as Sharpe helps Dillon to his feet. Their arms are connected and they use this connection to clothesline Blank to the mat.

Axis comments "It appears that Sharpe and Dillon are teaming up!"

King replies with "Yeah, they want to get rid of Blank since they fear his talent. Plus, they fear his mist"

Edwin comes back with "Oh come on, they’re just teaming up here"

King replies with "This isn’t a tag team match, this is a three way match, and Sharpe is gonna stab that idiot Dillon in the back when he gets the chance to!"

Sharpe picks up Blank and holds his arms behind his back as Dillon winds his arm up and punches Blank a few times in the face. Sharpe verbally encourages Dillon to ‘knock his block off’, but before any block knocking could commence, Blank kicked Sharpe down south, sending him to the mat in pain. Blank then irish whipped Dillon into the ropes and came off with a spinning back kick. Dillon reeled back in pain and fell to the mat as Sharpe got to his feet. Sharpe grabbed Blank from behind and put his hand around Blank’s throat, but before Sharpe could give Blank a thunderous chokeslam, Blank managed to grab onto the arm, fall back and take Sharpe down to the mat.

Dillon charges in with a dropkick, knocking Blank down. Sharpe gets to his feet and he kicks Blank in the midsection. Sharpe and Dillon hit Blank with a double suplex, sending him to the mat. As Blank lay on the canvas, Sharpe whispers something into Dillon’s ear. Dillon goes though the ropes as Sharpe backs into a corner, As Dillon stands on the top rope, he then climbs onto Sharpe’s shoulders and jumps off with a splash onto Blank. Blank grimaces in pain from that Rocket Launcher variation as Dillon makes what is certain to be the cover.

One!

Two!

Thr--- No… Sharpe appears to have accidentally knocked Dillon off Blank. Dillon is confused and angry at Sharpe. Sharpe shrugs and then he goes for a cover on the fallen Blank.

King comments "Sharpe wants to pin Blank himself, that’s brilliant! He doesn’t want Dillon to steal his pin"

Edwin snaps back with "Sharpey is being selfish.. Dillon could have pinned Blank, but Sharpe didn’t want that"

One!

Two!

No! Dillon drops and elbow on Sharpe and he breaks up the pin. Sharpe gets up and shakes his head in anger towards Dillon.

Edwin comments "Can Sharpey give it and not take it?"

Dillon and Sharpe exchange shoves to the chest on each other, Dillon attempts to irish whip Sharpe, but Sharpe grabs onto Dillon’s hair and yanks him down to the mat. Sharpe stands over Dillon, but Dillon hooks his arm around Sharpe’s leg and takes him down. Dillon attempts to punch Sharpe, but Sharpe puts his hands around Dillon’s neck while his shoulders are on the canvas and he tries to lift Dillon up and choke him. We notice Blank waiting a bit and stepping through the ropes. Sharpe throws Dillon aside and then as he lifts Dillon up, Dillon nails him in the mid-section, stunning him, Dillon whips Sharpe into the ropes, but before he could pull it off, Sharpe reverses and whips Dillon into the ropes, Sharpe ducks down and launches Dillon with a back body drop. As Dillon lays on his back, Blank springs over the ropes and comes down with a splash onto Dillon. Blank then makes a cover.

One!

Two!

Three!

Funyon makes the announcement of "Tim Dillon has been eliminated!" over the PA as the fans boo in disappointment.

Dillon moves out of the ring as Sharpe smirks at him. Dillon and Sharpe make eye contact and Sharpe mockingly waves to him and yells "Bye Bye Timmy!"

Blank gets to his feet and then meets Sharpe with some kicks to his ribs. Blank irish whips Sharpe into the ropes and as Sharpe comes off, Blank executes a jawbreaker, which takes dazes Sharpe, allowing for Blank for go for a backslide on the big man.

One!

Two!

Sharpe kicks out with force. Sharpe gets back to his feet, but Blank hits a legsweep, knocking Sharpe down to his hands and knees. Sharpe tries to kick at Blank without luck, Blank sneers at this and he goes through the ropes. Sharpe gets back onto his feet and taunts Blank, only to have Blank come off with a springboard dropkick, which puts Sharpe onto his ass. Sharpe gets back onto his feet quickly, but Blank picks him up and he is barely able to execute a scoop slam on Sharpe. Sharpe gets back up quickly and gazes at Blank.

"Sharpe is not looking very happy right now, he’s giving Blank the evil eye basically" comments Axis

"I’d assume he’s embarrassed because he’s being shown up" said King

Blank jumps onto the top rope and Sharpe catches him with one hand and just flattens him with a vicious choke slam. Blank lay on the mat in pain after that move as Sharpe puts one foot down for a cover.

One!

Two!

Kickout by Blank! Blank took advantage of Sharpe’s lazy cover and he survived that move. Sharpe picks up Blank and scoop slams him to the canvas before going to the second turnbuckle. Sharpe flys off the second turnbuckle and unleashes an elbowdrop right to Blank’s throat. Sharpe sneers as he points to Blank’s throat and drops a knee on it.

Axis comments "Ouch! Vicious move here by Sharpe"

King replies with "Of course! Sharpe realizes he’s gonna have to put a few stakes in Blank’s heart to put him out here. If Sharpe hasn’t learned from his first match, he’s an idiot"

Sharpe picks up Blank and he forearms him right in the throat. Sharpe shoves Blank to the canvas before hooking his legs and slingshotting him into the top rope throat-first. Sharpe looks at Blank, who is now down on the mat holding his throat in pain and he smiles a bit to the delight of the majority of the fans. Sharpe yanks Blank to his feet by the hair and he throws him into the ropes with an irish whip. Blank is able to slide on the canvas and avoid Sharpe’s big boot while clipping Sharpe in his other leg.

Axis observes that "Blank is gonna have to take out Sharpe’s legs if he wants to put Sharpe out for his Frog Splash"

King quips "Blank should do that and he should cheat like a mofo also."

Blank kicks at Sharpe’s right leg some more as Sharpe lays on his right knee on the canvas. Sharpe gets back to his feet and Blank clips his leg out again. Blank smiles with a sense of retribution as Sharpe lay on the ground. Blank poses in the karate style and just before he is able to deliver a kick to Sharpe, Sharpe eludes the kick.

Sharpe manages to get back to his feet and he hits the Uraken Spinning Back Fist on Blank, sending him to the canvas holding his jaw in pain. Sharpe throws Blank into the corner and he chokes him with his boot, drawing some boos and more cheers. The Referee, the Hollywood Fashion Plate Anthony Michael Hall, makes a count up to four and Sharpe breaks the chokehold. Sharpe leads Blank out of the corner and then he hits Snake Eyes on Blank, leaving Blank in some more pain, but before Sharpe could followup, Blank hits a quick eyepole and a DDT, sending Sharpe to the canvas. Blank makes a quick cover.

One, counts Hall

Two!

Kickout by Sharpe. Sharpe gets back to his feet, but not before Blank hits him with a roundhouse kick. Sharpe stumbles back some more, but then he charges..

*WHACK* was the sound made as Sharpe hit Blank with a hard Clothesline from Hades. Sharpe elbows Blank in the throat and he puts Blank in a bearhug.

Axis notices "Sharpe seems to be working over the throat and ribs of Blank, as a setup for his power moves"

King sneers a bit and says "Sharpe doesn’t need to do that, he could take off Blank’s head if he was good enough. Blank is fast as lightning. Blank is like Anna Nicole Smith’s popularity, up one minute, down the next and certain to reemerage"

Sharpe sneers as Blank dangles helplessly in the Bearhug. Sharpe applies pressure to the ribs as the referee, Anthony Hall comes in to administer the traditional arm-dropping.

Hall picks up the arm, it falls once! Blank’s arm falls like Martha Stewart stock, as it appears to be in bad shape.

Hall picks up the arm again, and it falls twice! Blank’s arm is down again, dangling and limp. Could Sharpe be the first man to win a match with a regular bearhug in years?

Hall picks up the arm again, and IT STAYS UP! Blank manages to keep his arm up and he executes a Mongolian chop to Sharpe, slapping him hard on the ears, forcing him to break the hold.

Blank comes off the ropes and he hits an elbow to the face of Sharpe, Blank comes back off and hits another elbow to the face of the big Sharpe, these appear to be failing to sink him and send him to the canvas.

Blank decides to go for another combo, as he kicks Sharpe in the knee, kicks him low and chops him in the chest. The referee warns him while Blank whips him to the corner. Blank charges in and he then does a handstand on the top turnbuckle, before he comes back down to his feet and hits Sharpe with a snap suplex.

Blank runs off the ropes and hits a Senton Splash on the downed Sharpe and he hooks a leg and he comes down.

One!

Two!

Kickout by Sharpe! Sharpe gets back to his feet as Blank seems to be preparing for something.

Right as Sharpe is to his feet, Blank unleashes the RED MIST OF DEATH~!, spraying that towards Sharpe. Sharpe, in his luck, ducks just in time to avoid the blinding mist. Sharpe puts Blank into a fireman’s carry.

Axis realizes that "This might just be Sharpe’s move, dubbed Illegal in 46 States"

King jokes and says "Which 46?"

As Sharpe flings Blank over for the Ii46S (Illegal in 46 States), Blank manages to counter with a DDT, which takes Sharpe down to the mat. Blank goes for a cover on the fallen Sharpe.

One!

Two!

Kickout by Sharpe. Sharpe gets back onto his feet as Blank comes in with a clothesline. Sharpe ducks the clothesline and when Blank turns back to Sharpe, Sharpe puts him up into a Gorilla Press Slam position.

Axis comments "That’s the Silver Bullet, he might just hit it!"

As Sharpe presses Blank up, Blank manages to elude the move again and lock on the vicious RED DRAGON SLEEPER!

King laughs and says "Some people never learn! Like Sharpe! Steak is good, but the want Steak and a ribbon and that costs them matches!"

Sharpe dangles in pain as Blank lays on his shoulder hooking that hold onto him. But, Sharpe has something else in mind. Sharpe walks to the corner, and he tries to run Blank into the turnbuckles to get him to release the hold.. Just as Blank releases the hold, Sharpe comes out of the corner and powerslams Blank. Sharpe drops a leg on Blank’s throat, and then he picks him up off the canvas.

Edwin comes in and says :"Sharpe should just hit his move here and leave the posing for later"

King smirks and says "Sharpe’s gonna blow this one and Blank’s gonna win it"

Sharpe waistlocks Blank and turns him upside down. Sharpe then hits his Tombstone Piledriver, driving Blank down to the canvas. Sharpe hooks a leg as the referee swoops in for a count.

One!

Two!

Three!

Axis yells out "Sharpe wins! SHARPE IS THE #1 CONTENDER!"

King supportively said "I always knew he’d win, He’s like a hoss! He just doesn’t have his head on right."

Sharpe smiles at his victory, and then he begins to kick Blank some more while he is down .We hear shattered jeers as Sharpe picks Blank up by his hair and puts him in a Dragon Sleeper. Sharpe presses his arm around Blank’s head as the referee and the various security persaude him to stop his attack.

Axis feels inquisitive and asks "What was that all about?"

Edwin realizes what it was about and says "That was about revenge for that Blank did to Sharpe after their match"

Axis nods and then says "Well, Sharpe is the #1 contender, it seems Blank is literally a sore loser. We’ll be back after this break!"

King butts in and says "These commercial better not have that Dell Kid!"

September 11, 2002

The cameras cut to the backstage of the SJL, Ben Hardy puffing frantically as he makes his way through the halls, turning one corner after another, Gus lumbering behind, camera in hand. "This is… Ben Hardy, and we are backstage to talk tonight with…"

Suddenly, Hardy makes his way around a corner, and comes face to face with the SJL champ, CIA, seated outside his locker room, his world title belt seated on a table next to him as he chats with one of the many wardrobe and makeup girls who are always milling about the backstage area, making sure everyone's ring gear is JUST right. Spotting Hardy, CIA rolls his eyes and motions away with his eyes, dismissing the young lady for now.

"CIA! CIA! Can we get a word with…"

"Hardy? Be quick about it, eh? I've got things to do."

Straightening himself up, Hardy nods, and fixes his shirt a bit, turning towards the camera. "This is Ben Hardy, here with SJL talent, and current world champion, CIA. Now, CIA, we're only shortly removed from a show where you pinned Thor in a triple threat match up to take the SJL world title from Mak Francis. First, let's deal with Mak Francis. He claims you've never pinned him, or made him tap, despite taking that title twice, with him involved in the match both times. And upon review, it seems he is correct. What do you have to say about his challenge?"

CIA smiles, and reaches over to the table beside him, picking up the shining belt that proclaims him world champion, polishing the nameplate affixed to it, and taking a moment to gaze at the rather attractive pants-keeper-upper with pride before turning back towards Hardy. "Mak Francis. The leader of the sWo. The Franchise. He seems to think this is about the world title. Hey, he had a good run, and to say he was an unworthy champion would be petty. And not very true either, eh? So here it is. Mak, I don't care to give you another shot at my title. You can win yourself a shot, and it still won't matter. This title doesn't mean anything between us. Today, I'm the best, eh? Maybe you'll get it again. But between me and you, it's about pride. I've never got that pinfall, never made you tap, but if you think I can't, you're sorely mistaken, eh. You want me, Mak? Come and get me. But you won't get a shot at this Canadian wonder until it's the way *I* want it. Next question, Hardy?"

Hardy shrugs, and nods his head, swinging right into his next question. "Very well. As mentioned, you pinned Thor to win that world title, but tonight, you have to team up with the seven-foot powerhouse. Will there be any way for the two of you to co-exi…" Hardy suddenly freezes, looking down the hallway, and CIA pokes him in the shoulder, apparently wondering why the inept interviewer has stopped. Gus begins to turn his camera, but stops suddenly as the Norse God of Thunder himself appears, looming tall behind CIA, shadow falling over the Canadian.

"It seems to me, mortal, that we've matters to attend to. D'ye not agree?" Looking down, Thor waits, while CIA slowly turns around, his eyes locking with Thor's… chin. Tilting his head upwards, “The Dream” finally meets the eyes of the giant, and smiles. "So you've got something to say, eh, big man? Maybe you're a little angry about the cage match? When I crushed your skull with the chair? Maybe what you're here for is a little payback, eh?" Thor’s eyes remain unchanged “A victory is a victory, as long as its won well. Thou hast beaten me, climbed the mountain and pinned my shoulders to the mat. Though I withstood chair shot after chair shot, the count of which escapes me, mine brain rattled enow to allow me to forget.”

Thor’s voice grows icy cold “Inside the steel cage thou proved true how thou were the better man, and e’en more so when thou took the World title from around the waist of Mak Francis. Thine accomplishments ring great and thine legend has been forever held in the annals of the SJL. Soon enow, thou wilt have a challenge to face, the likes of which you ne’er hath felt before. The God of Thunder demands a shot at thine title!” CIA, though his face hidden, appears to raise an eyebrow at Thor’s demand. “Though that is not the issue at hand. We shall cross that fjord when we reach it. Tonight we face “Brother Red” Matt Myers and “Hollywood” Spike Jenkins. The forces of good taking on the forces of evil, a battle of ages. Tonight I shall put aside my wanton needs for your belt, and stand at thine side in battle to once and for all defeating the sWo.”

CIA stands, absorbing the boast Thor has put forth. He finally cracks a smile and slaps Thor warmly but firmly on the chest. Thor grins, satisfied for now. Both men walk their separate ways leaving a slightly baffled Ben Hardy in the middle of the camera frame.

Fader...

September 11, 2002

Annnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnd we’re back live, yes, that’s right LIVE! Live from First Union Center in Pittsburgh, PA! The Pittsburghians rise to their feet as the camera zooms around the sea of fans, as they hold up signs ranging from “I WANT PETE’S LONGDOGGER” to “ANNIE E. IS MY MOM”, to “JUDGE MENTAL SENTENCES YOU TO AN ASS-KICKING”. The camera then zooms over to Edwin MacPhisto, Axis, and The Suicide King, as they are greeted by the commissioning Britain.

“Welcome, one and all, to yet another edition of Smarks Junior League Wrath!” Edwin says, “And tonight, it’s going to be a night of mayhem and carnage, for our next match is C.I.A., the secret agent man and the current Smarks Junior League World Heavyweight Champion and the god of thunder, Thor, as they go one on one against two sWo members who are out for blood, “Hollywood” Spike Jenkins and the newly crowned European Champion, “Brother Red” Matt Myers. I just hope that Spike and Myers can work together as a team here…”

“What the hell do you mean, Edwin?” The Suicide King ponders, “Of course they can work together as a good team. It’s just their nature. They know that it’s do or die in this match, and either they work together, or they get their asses kicked.”

“Well, Spike Jenkins seems to have a *small* ego problem, so hopefully, he can put that aside in this match and concentrate on Thor and C.I.A.,” Axis murmurs. Funyon steps into the ring, as he takes his microphone and puts it up to his lips.

“Ladies and gentlemen…the FOLLOWING CONTEST…is a TAG TEAM MATCH-UP!” Funyon says loudly, and the crowd responds in an average amount of cheers, ready for some more action.

“Beep Beep Beep Beep Beep Beep Beeeeeeeeeeeep…”

The metallic beeps of Rage Against The Machine’s “Ashes In The Fall” blast through the arena, as Matt Myers and “Hollywood” Spike Jenkins comes out from the curtain. Matt Myers looks out at the crowd, as his traditional black trench coat and sunglasses are missing. Same with Spike, as they do not wear the traditional clothing of the sWo. They begin walking down the ramp, as Funyon announces them.

“ENTERING THE RING…at a combined weight of 449 Pooooounds, “Hollywood” Spike Jenkins and THE NEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEW EUROEPAN CHAMPION, “BROTHER RED” MATT MYYYYYERS!” Funyon announces, as the two sWo members slide under the bottom ring ropes and into the ring. They look out at the crowd, as Spike climbs up to the second turnbuckle and screams out at the crowd, “I AM THE KING OF THE WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORLD!”, which responds in uncontrollable boos. Myers simply draws boos by looking at the crowd, as he jumps up to the second rope, holding out his European Championship.

“Hey, did you notice something?” King says.

“What?” Edwin says.

“They don’t have their trenchcoats on, nor their sunglasses…” The Suicide King ponders, “Er…um…maybe it’s too hot for them. Or something.”

“Or, maybe they’re just sick of wearing them, since they can’t work as a team!” Axis snaps. King grumbles.

“No, no. They’re as good of a team as the Steelers...oh…wait…nevermind…” King jokes, as he lets out a laugh.

“Oooooooooh Caaaaaaannaaaaddddaaaa…”

BOOM!

The crowd goes insane as the red pyro flies, but soon dies as the Canadian national anthem changes to ‘Secret Agent Man’, and C.I.A., World Title strung over his shoulder, comes out to greet the fans. They go nuts as he steps out on the stage, as he holds up with World Championship belt for all the fans.

“INTRODUCTING NOW…From Ottawa, Ontario, Canada, weighing in at 237 Pooooooounds…THE CANADIAN INTELLEGENCE AGENT, AND THE WOOOOOORRRRRLLLLLDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD HEEEEEEEEEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPION, C.I.AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!” Funyon screams, at the crowd goes crazy. C.I.A. walks down the entrance ramp, as he stays near the edge of the ring. Matt and Spike dare him to come inside, but C.I.A. just shakes his head ‘no’.

“Jesus! Listen to these fans, they just ADRORE C.I.A.!” Edwin says.

“Ah, what a bunch of fools. They should be cheering for the sWo and not this Canadian freak!” The Suicide King grumbles.

The lights shut off and a blue spotlight shines on the entrance. The opening chords of KISS- God of Thunder blast on the speakers and a lightning bolt strikes the entrance way and it fills with smoke as the music starts driving. Then as the lyrics start blue and white pyros shoot off crossing each other and Thor steps through the curtain through the smoke.

“His tag team partner, weighing in at 345 Poooounds…THE GOD OF THUNDER, THOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOR!” Funyon says, as he exits the ring, trying to avoid the fight that is about to take place. C.I.A. and Thor rush into the ring, as they both start brawling with Matt Myers and Spike Jenkins! The referee calls for the bell in the middle of the disorder!

::Ding, ding, diiing!::

“And here we go! It’s a 2 on 2 brawl, C.I.A. and Thor going against the sWo, Matt Myers and Spike Jenkins!” Axis says.

C.I.A. and Thor begin to gain the upper hand, as they begin to back to the two against the ropes. C.I.A. grabs the wrist of Matt Myers and Thor grabs the wrist of Spike Jenkins, as they whip them at the same time across the ring, and as the sWo comes back at their opponents, Thor lets out a side-kick on Spike Jenkins and Matt Myers gets a drop-kick delivered right to his chin! Matt Myers and Spike Jenkins roll out of the ring, as the crowd boos the sWo duo. Matt Myers looks out at the crowd, and then at C.I.A. and Thor back in the ring, as they motion Myers and Spike to come into the ring, to continue the brawl. The referee manages to force C.I.A. on to the ring apron, as Myers and Spike look back on the giant in the ring.

“Woah! C.I.A. and Thor have just cleaned house!” Axis says, “I give them credit, they make a wonderful team!”

“Bah. It’s all been luck for them from here,” The Suicide King scoffs.

Matt Myers turns to Spike, as he says to him, “Let’s go in on three…one…two…THREE!” on three, Matt and Spike rush at the ring, as Spike slides under the bottom rope and into the ring…only to turn around and see Matt Myers had stopped halfway, leaving him all alone with the big man. Matt Myers shrugs at his partner, as he hops up on the ring apron. Spike groans as he turns around to get a heavy drop-kick delivered to him right in the kisser by Thor! Spike goes down by quickly gets back up, only to be scooped up into the mighty arms of Thor and thrown down in a scoop slam! Thor makes the cover, and the referee counts…

ONE!

TWO…NO! Spike Jenkins kicks out!

“Spike kicking out with all he’s got,” Edwin says, “With the three hundred plus pounds of Thor, he better be able to kick out hard!”

“How dare Thor treat the King of the world like that!” The Suicide King snaps.

Thor picks Spike up, as he delivers a quick kick to the gut of Spike, and he whips him across the ropes and as Spike comes back, he scoops Spike up into a gorilla press, holding Spike above his head…but Spike is able to hope down, as he delivers a quick kick to the knee of Thor! Thor screams as he goes down on one knee, as Spike Jenkins tags in his partner, Matt Myers.

“Here comes the martial arts master, Matt Myers! Speaking of martial arts, do you know Matt Myers has black belts in Judo, Akido, Tae Kwan Do…”

The Suicide King rambles on and on, as Matt Myers delivers a quick kick to the chest of Thor, who is still down on one knee. The crowd lets out a giant “ooooh”, as Thor doesn’t sell the move at all.

SMACK!

Another!

SMMMACK!

Another!

SMMACK!

And yet another from Matt Myers! He tries to deliver one more, but Thor catches the leg and gets up to his feet, as he pulls Matt Myers into him, as he locks Matt in a choke hold…

“Looks like Thor is looking for a chokeslam here…” Edwin says, but as Thor lifts Matt Myers up, Myers wiggles his way out of it, as he places himself on the shoulders of Thor. Thor tries to get Matt off of his shoulders like a little bug that he can’t swat, as Matt Myers jumps up and hits a hurricane-rana on Thor! Matt Myers rolls on top of Thor, as the referee begins to count once more…

ONE!

TWO!

THR…NO! Thor powers out, throwing Matt Myers off of him, as Matt Myers goes flying across the ring. Thor sits up, as Matt Myers delivers a dropkick to the back of Thor, which stuns the giant for a second. Myers leaps over and tags in his partner in crime, Spike Jenkins, as Spike enters the ring, and sees that Thor is up on one knee, so he jumps up to the second rope as he comes back at Thor, as he grabs the head of the giant and delivers a flying bulldog to the head of Thor! He sees that Thor is a fallen Giant, as he runs against the ropes and rolls on the ground…once…twice…he gets closer to Thor…once more…and WHAM! A rolling Thunder to the belly of Thor! Spike covers Thor once more, with authority, grabbing the wrist, trying to hold him down.

ONE!

TWO!

No…Thor kicks out once more!

“Amazing resilience from Thor…but you have to give it to Spike and Matt, their strategy seems to be working. Signal out the strongest member of the group, this one being Thor, and taking him out of the match and then make it 2 on 1 against C.I.A.!” The Suicide King proclaims.

Spike Jenkins gets up, looking at the referee, shocked. The ref just holds up 2 fingers, as Spike throws a fit of hoping up and down, screaming “BUT I HAAAAAAAAD HIM!” Spike turns around to see Thor risen up, as he grabs the neck of Spike with both hands, as he throws him into the air and slams him down in a Divine Hammer, which shakes the ring! The crowd explodes in anticipation, as Thor rolls over to his belly…

ONE! The referee starts the ten count, as neither man has moved…

TWO! Spike had started to show signs of life, as he rolls around on the match, clutching his neck…

THREE! Thor begins to get up on to one knee, as he begins crawling over to the corner…

FOUR …Only to turn around as he realizes he’s heading the wrong way, because he’s heading toward the sWo corner. He turns around, and passes a crawling Spike Jenkins…

FIIIIVE! Spike crawls over to his corner; inch by inch, as he holds his arm out…no…almost there…

SIX…Thor is on his knee, as he looks over to see that’s he almost a foot away from C.I.A…but can he make it….?

SEVEN! Spike is closer now, so close…mere inches…as he holds out his hand…

EIGHT! …Thor takes a giant leap, reaching for the hand of C.I.A. as…

…

*SMACK!*

“THEY BOTH MAKE THE TAG! HERE WE GO!” Axis screams, as Matt Myers and C.I.A. run into the ring, ready to kill each other…

…

And the World Champion gets the first shot in, hitting the European Champion with a right hand, knocking him to the mat. “Brother Red” gets right back up to his feet, but once again, is knocked to the mat with a big right hand from the World Champ. “Hollywood” Spike Jenkins finally gets to his feet in his corner and charges at C.I.A., but is met with the same fate as his partner, quickly knocked to the mat with a right hand. Spike gets back to his feet, but once again goes down to a right hand from the Canadian Intelligence Agent. Matt gets to his feet, and C.I.A. quickly runs over to him, grabbing his wrist, and whipping him across the ropes. Myers bounces into the ropes, and goes charging back at C.I.A. and is thrown into the air, doing a front flip, and landing hard on the mat with a huge backdrop.

Axis: C.I.A. is on Fire!

King: Don’t worry. Matt and Spike will get back into the match. C.I.A. and Thor may be all brawn, but Spike and Matt are Brains. And Brain ALWAYS Overcomes Brawn. That’s my theory.

Edwin: How is that YOUR theory?

King: Your petty insults have no effect on me.

“Hollywood” Spike Jenkins gets back to his feet, but the World Champion gets his momentum going, and grabs Spike by the wrist, whipping him into the ropes. Spike bounces into the ropes, and comes running back to C.I.A., but is thrown into the air, doing a front flip, and landing hard on the mat with a huge backdrop like his partner just got hit with. Spike rolls around holding his lower back in pain, as The European Champion gets back to his feet, but gets knocked right back down with a big clothesline from The Canadian Intelligence Agent. Spike slowly gets to his feet, holding his lower back, but gets knocked back down with a clothesline from C.I.A. Myers gets back to his feet, and leans against the ropes, trying to catch his breath, as C.I.A. quickly walks to him. C.I.A. grabs Myers wrist and whips him across the ropes. “Brother Red” bounces into the ropes, and stumbles back to C.I.A., who leaps into the air, and drives both his feet into “Brother Red’s” chest, knocking him to the mat. C.I.A. bounces back to his feet and turns to see “Hollywood” Spike Jenkins stumbling around, trying to get his balance. C.I.A. charges at Spike, leaping into the air, and nailing Spike in the chest with his feet, dropkicking Spike to the mat. Spike rolls around the ring and lies in a corner, catching his breath, as C.I.A. and Matt Myers both get to their feet at the same time. They both go at each other, Matt going for the first hit, throwing a wild right hook at C.I.A., but C.I.A. ducks under it, getting behind Matt and wrapping his arms around Matt’s waist. C.I.A. lifts Matt into the air, driving him back onto the top of his head with a release German Suplex.

Axis: What a German Suplex by The World Champion!

Edwin: C.I.A. has been giving out a lot of punishment to the sWo tonight.

King: Don’t worry. It is all part of Spike’s and Matt’s plan.

Edwin: Plan to get their asses kicked in?

King: Shut up!

C.I.A. grabs Matt by the wrist, and pulls him into the corner. The World Champion goes to the corner, and signals that he is going up top to the fans!

Axis: Can C.I.A. be going for Air Canada? He can end the match right now!

King: Oh God No! MOVE MATT! MOVE!!!!!

Edwin: I am sure he can hear you from Unconscious World.

King: Do You EVER Shut Up?

Edwin: I don’t have to shut up when I am paying your salary.

King: That was a cheap shot and you know it.

C.I.A. climbs the ropes, making his way to the top rope, as Hollywood climbs over to where Matt is laying. C.I.A. perches himself up on the top rope, gaining his balance as he looks out into the crowd. Before he can do anything though, “Hollywood” Spike Jenkins rises to his knees, and pushes the referee into the ropes, causing C.I.A. to lose his balance and crotch himself on the top rope.

King: I Told You! Spike Jenkins knows what he is doing in that ring.

Axis: That was cheap!

King: No, it was smart.

Edwin: Cheap.

King: I will not lower myself to your level just to argue with you on how Spike is smart.

Edwin: Sometimes, I just can’t stand you.

Spike Jenkins gets to his feet, as C.I.A. rolls off the turnbuckle and lies on the mat. Spike points at his brain, showing the world how smart he is, when the crowd suddenly starts cheering. Spike slowly turns around, and is met with his archenemy () Thor!

Axis: These guys have hated each other ever since Spike joined the sWo.

King: Best decision Spike has ever made.

Axis: The night he joined the sWo, Spike nailed Thor with the World Title.

Edwin: And I have a feeling Spike is going to get what’s been coming to him for a long time now.

King: Why are you enjoying this?

Thor nails Spike upside the head with a vicious right hand. And another. And another, knocking Spike back into the ropes. Thor grabs Spike’s wrist, and whips him across the ropes. Spike bounces into the ropes, and goes running back at Thor, but baseball slides under Thor’s legs, sliding out behind him. Thor quickly turns to Spike, as Spike runs in the opposite direction into the ropes. Spike leaps into the ropes, springboarding off the middle rope back into Thor with a cross body, but Thor catches him. Thor falls back, throwing Spike back into the air, causing him to crash into the mat, much to the delight of the fans.

Axis: A HUGE Fall Away Slam by Thor. The sWo are in trouble.

King: You should shut up too!

Thor gets to his feet, but The European Champion is up before him, and gives him a swift kick to the chest. Another kick. And another. Matt spins around, and throws his leg up at Thor, but Thor catches his leg. Thor spins him around, and nails him with a lariat that nearly takes Matt's head off, knocking him to the mat.

Edwin: WOW!

Axis: Thor caught Matt Myers Spinning Heel Kick, and nailed a lariat that could have killed Matt.

King: This isn’t good.

Edwin: Why, sure it is.

King: NO IT ISNT!

Thor lays on Matt for the cover!

One

.

Two

.

Spike Jenkins leaps on top of Thor, stopping the count just in the nick of time. Spike gets to his feet and hits Thor with a few kicks to the side of the head. Thor rises to his feet, but Spike pushes him back into a corner. Spike grabs the middle ropes around Thor, and slams his shoulder into Thor’s midsection. Spike pulls back, and slams his shoulder into Thor’s midsection again. Spike pulls out again, and once again slams his shoulder into Thor’s midsection. Spike lets go of the ropes, and stands straight up looking at a stunned Thor. Spike slaps Thor across the face, and yells “You Suck!” getting a bunch of boo’s out of the crowd. Spike backs up a bit, and does a back flip, landing on his feet. Spike Jenkins charges at Thor, but Thor throws his big boot up, nailing Spike across the face, knocking him to the mat.

Axis: THOR WITH A BIG BOOT!

King: Spike, Stop Fooling Around.

On the other side of the ring, Matt Myers gets to his feet, leaning against the turnbuckles for support. Thor sees this, and charges at Matt. Thor leaps into the air, and sandwiches Matt between himself and the turnbuckles. Matt stands there dazed, trying to catch his breath. On the other side of the ring, where Thor was just standing in, Spike Jenkins stands there, trying to catch his breath himself. Thor sees the opportunity, and charges at Spike, leaping into the air, and driving himself into Spike, sandwiching Spike into the turnbuckles. Spike falls to his hands and knees, as Thor walks into the center of the ring, where a wobbly Matt Myers is walking. Thor walks over to him, and gives him a swift kick to the gut, causing Matt to fold over. Thor grabs Matt’s tights, and pulls him in between his legs!!!!

Axis: Thor going for the Ragnorak!!!

King: Spike! Help Matt! Please!

As if answering the calls of the King, Spike Jenkins crawls up behind Thor. Thor lifts Matt up, but Spike low blows Thor, causing him to drop Matt down, and fall to his knees.

Axis: COME ON!

Edwin: They have to cheat to beat Thor and C.I.A.

King: I don’t see it as cheating. I see it as a style of their own.

Edwin: Their style is cheating?

King: You say it with such hate in your voice.

Thor stands there on his knee’s, trying to catch his breathe, as Matt and Spike rise to their feet. Spike runs behind Thor into the ropes, as Matt runs in front of Thor into the ropes. They both bounce off the ropes, and charge back at Thor, they both leap up, and Spike dropkicks Thor in the back of the head, while Matt dropkicks Thor in the face, making a loud pop sound echo through the arena, as Thor falls to the ground, covering his head.

King: Now THAT is teamwork.

Axis: Thor will be suffering from that one for awhile.

Edwin: But Look. C.I.A. is back up.

And yes, Edwin is right. C.I.A. Spike Jenkins sees him first and charges at C.I.A., but C.I.A. ducks his head, and Spike gets backdropped over the top rope, and lands hard onto the floor. Matt takes the opportunity to comes up to C.I.A. without C.I.A. paying attention and gives him a swift kick to the gut. “Brother Red” hooks C.I.A.’s arm over his shoulder, and lifts C.I.A. up into a Death Valley Driver position.

Axis: Matt Myers is about to hit the World Champion with the Death Myers Driver!

Edwin: Can the European Champion defeat the World Champion?

King: Of course he can. C.I.A. is a bum. Mak should still be the World Champion.

Edwin: Yeah, Yeah, Yeah. That is all I have been hearing all week from these sWo crybabies.

Myers holds C.I.A. up on his shoulders, and flips him over, going for one of his finishers, but C.I.A. lands on his feet behind Myers, still locked with his arms. C.I.A. pulls back, and falls forward, slamming “Brother Red’s” face into the mat!

Axis: THE VIA RAIL!!!!!!!!

King: NOOOO

Edwin: C.I.A. just reversed out of the Death Myers Driver, and nailed the Via Rail. This match is over!

C.I.A. turns Matt onto his back, and lies on top of him for the cover.

One

.

Two

.

Spike Jenkins pulls the referee out of the ring!

King: What a save!

Edwin: He should be disqualified for that!

King: No, he shouldn’t.

The referee yells at Spike, but Spike just gives him a light right hand, knocking the referee to the floor. C.I.A. rolls out of the ring, and nails an unexpecting Spike with a right hand, knocking him back. C.I.A. steps over the referee’s body and grabs Spike by the wrist, and whips him across the floor into the steel steps!!! Spike runs back first into the steel steps, and hits them hard, the impact forcing him to do a flip over the steps and landing on the floor!!!!!

King: C.I.A. should be disqualified for that!

Edwin: No, he shouldn’t.

King: You are so evil.

Spike crawls over to the announcers table, holding his lower back in pain. C.I.A. walks around the ring, and walks up behind Spike, but is hit with an unexpecting low blow mule kick that staggers him over. Spike pushes Funyon off his steel chair, and lifts the chair over head, and slams it across C.I.A.’s head.

Axis: C.I.A. might be out cold from that chair shot.

Edwin: Spike is getting out of hand!

Back in the ring, Thor and Matt finally get to their feet. They both stagger around the ring, until they meet in the center of the ring, where Thor hits Matt with another kick to the gut. Thor pulls Matt in between his legs, and sets up for the Ragnorak!

Axis: Thor is going to hit Matt Myers with the Ragnorak, but the referee is out cold on the floor.

King: What a shame.

Spike Jenkins sees this, and slides into the ring, and quickly gets behind Thor. Before Thor can lift Matt up, Spike slams the chair that he used against C.I.A. into the back of Thor, causing Thor to drop Matt, and almost fall over. Thor stays standing up though, so Spike gives him another chair shot to the back. Thor stays standing, so Spike walks around in front of him, and slams the chair into the top of Thor’s head. Thor staggers a bit, but Spike opens the chair, and sets it down. Thor staggers around, but falls into the arm of Spike Jenkins, as Spike wraps his arm around Thor’s shoulder. Spike lifts Thor into the air only a few inches, but drives Thor down into the open chair, bending the chair in half, and putting Thor on the mat.

Axis: HIGHLIGHTER ON THE OPEN CHAIR! OH MY GOD!

King: What a move!

Edwin: I can’t stand watching this. This is so horrible.

King: What is?

Edwin: The sWo having to cheat to win. The chairs. The low blows. Everything.

Spike slides out of the ring, and walks over to the knocked out referee. Spike lifts the referee up, and slides him into the ring. Matt Myers slowly crawls over to Thor, and places an arm over Thor’s chest. Spike grabs the referee around the shirt, and pulls him over to where Thor and Matt lay. The referee makes the slow count…

One

.

Two

.

Spike Jenkins pulls Matt Myers off Thor????????

Edwin: What the hell?

Axis: What is he doing?

Spike walks over to Thor, and places a foot on Thor’s chest, and poses for the crowd.

One

.

Two

.

Three!!!!!!!

King: HAHAHAHA.

Edwin: Did he really have to humiliate Thor?

King: Yes, yes he did.

“Ashes in the Fall” by Rage Against the Machine starts up again, as Spike Jenkins poses for the crowd, to there boo’s. Spike keeps yelling out “IM KING OF THE WORLD!!!!!!!”

Edwin: This guy has to get his ego in check. And fast.

King: Is that a threat?

Edwin: Yes.

Axis: Cheap win or not, the sWo came out victorious tonight.

Edwin: I don’t think so…

Just then, C.I.A. slides into the ring with a chair. Spike slowly turns around, and sees C.I.A. Spike backs up, in a corner, where Matt Myers is slowly getting up. C.I.A. tells them to come on, as the sWo member’s just stare at him. From out of nowhere, Spike pushes Matt forward, straight into a C.I.A. chair shot, as Spike quickly jumps out of the ring.

Edwin: HE JUST SACRIFISED HIS OWN PARTNER!

King: I didn’t see that. I saw…

Axis: Matt trip into a chair shot?

King: Its like you are reading my mind.

The cameras fade to black on C.I.A. holding a chair up, and Thor slowly getting up behind him, as we cut to a commercial break.

September 11, 2002

“#1” by Nelly rocks through the speakers as we return to SJL Wrath! Signs galore adorn the arena, including “LDP is the man!” “Mike Van Siclen will OWN the OAOAST!”, and “JAYKOBSUXKES!” We zoom in on the three-piece of Edwin, King, and Axis, who coolly begin to call the action.

“Ladies and gentlemen, allow me to welcome you back to Wrath,” says the always-collected Axis. “And tonight, our World Title Contendership Tournament begins… four men, all aching for a shot at CIA. Coming up later in the night is Fugue and Mak Francis, but in moments we will be seeing Mike Van Siclen and Jacob Helmsley blow off a long standing feud in a match tonight for the first spot in the #1 Contenders’ match!”

“That we will, Axis,” says the zany Edwin MacPhisto. “…this match was supposed to occur on Crimson, however, these events transpired…”

---

SJL Crimson, September 1, 2002

---

In the parking lot we can see the SCW Champion, Mike Van Siclen, carrying the belt over his shoulder, when suddenly...

SMASH! Out of nowhere, Jacob Helmsley catches him full-on in the head with a steel pipe shot. He begins to stomp on Mike.. then smiles, realizing that his work is done. He leaves, and all that we are left with is the Amazin' SCW Champion... bloody.

---

“Of course,” says the Suicide King, who is always eager to call the faces on such moves, “Mike Van Siclen attacked Jacob earlier, on Wrath… can we bring up that footage?”

---

SJL Wrath, August 27, 2002

---

The two laugh, but suddenly Frederick Hallbrook’s laughter is cut short! Jacob Helmsley turns around… to see his manager, Fred Hallbrook, laying on the concrete, unconscious and bleeding from one shot! Jake looks up… to see Mike Van Siclen standing, smiling, with a tire iron in his hand! Jacob, enraged, makes a charge at Van Siclen, but Mike leapfrogs the Psycho Mantis! Jacob immediately turns around… and gets leveled by a right hand! Helmsley goes down but quickly gets back up, charging Mike… but Mike ducks down, allowing Jacob to go over him in what would be a back body drop, but Mike grabs Helmsley’s legs! Stalling a bit, Mike decides to screw that and sits out with a Van Slaminator on the concrete to Helmsley!

…

A red Mercedes pulls up next to Mike, the driver’s side next to Mike’s right side. Mike looks at the car and the window rolls down, revealing the beautifully buxom blonde from the hospital, Katelyn, sitting in the driver’s seat. She smiles at Mike.

“I’ve never been part of a hit and run before!” she squeals excitedly.

Mike looks at her with a cold stare. “This wasn’t a hit and run, baby… this… was… a… massacre.” Mike spits down at Jacob’s unconscious form. “See you on Crimson.”

---

“But of course, King,” Edwin replies cheerfully, “There was more on…”

Edwin is cut short by a cell phone ringing.

“Hello?.. yes? Really? Why in the bloody hell didn’t you stop him! Ah… oh… okay, I’ll be right there.”

Edwin closes his phone as King looks at him. “What was that all about?”

“Break-in at my office… I’m going to have to jet, so it’s going to be you two for this match. Now behave, children!”

Edwin dashes off to the back. Axis scratches his chin… “Hmm, that was… odd… well, who cares… let’s send it to Funyon for the intros!”

“Ladies and gentlemen,” the Funyon says, “The following contest is a Ladder/Steel Pipe match scheduled for one fall! Count-outs are not in effect, as well as all DQs involving the pipe and the ladder. Everything else will be fully enforced by tonight’s referee, Frank Mitchell!”

“Meaning of Life” by Disturbed kicks up as Jacob Helmsley enters the arena, Frederick Hallbrook directly behind. Jake does a slow walk to the ring, Fred following, as Helmsley eyes the ladder that stands at the edge of the ramp. Helmsley slides into the ring, walking to his corner, where the fans mercilessly jeer him. Helmsley doesn’t respond, however… just stands, waiting for his opponent to enter.

“Lads and ladies, now in the ring, he weighs in at two-hundred and twenty-two pounds, standing at six feet, six inches tall, he hails from Calgary, Alberta Canada! Accompanied by Frederick Hallbrook, please put your HANDS TOGETHER… for the Psycho Mantis, JAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY-COB HEEEEEEEEEEEEEEELMS-LEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEY!”

The crowd boos even harder as an all-too-familiar voice whispers…

"I shut 'em down..."

The lights go down all over the arena as the sounds of "Shut 'Em Down" by LL Cool J pulse throughout the arena, a lone blue spotlight shining down on the entrance ramp, where Mike Van Siclen stands! The crowd erupts in cheers for the self-proclaimed Amazin’ one as he slowly walks down the ramp, his lovely personal nurse Katelyn following close behind. The Pyros of Greatness go off as Mike struts down the ramp, the Amazin’ one walking up the steps and holding the ropes open for Katelyn, letting her by before climbing in himself, posing to the crowd as Funyon makes his announcement.

”Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaand his opponent, weighing in at two-hundred and thirty-seven pounds, he hails from HARRISON, ILLINOIS, standing at six-feet, four inches tall, being accompanied by Katelyn… ladies and gentlemen, the A-MAZE-IN’ ONE, MIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIKE VA-AN SIIIIIIIIIIIC-LEEEEEEEEEN!”

The referee for tonight’s match, Frank Mitchell, signals for the bell, and this match is underway!

-=:Ding Ding Ding:=-

“We are ON in tonight’s first match in the #1 Contender’s tourney!”

“Does this mean that all four of these men are the number four contender, Axis?”

“I don’t know.”

“Is there a consolation match for #3 Contender?”

“Shut your fucking mouth, King.”

Jacob Helmsley and Mike Van Siclen circle each other mid-ring, neither man wanting to make the initial charge, even though both know that Helmsley will have a bit more power. The two circle until the two are in opposite corners, and at this Frederick Hallbrook jumps up onto the apron, grabbing Mike and putting him into a sleeper! Referee Mitchell quickly runs over and starts scolding Hallbrook, telling him not to interfere, yadda yadda. As this happens, Hallbrook releases the sleeper, and a slightly dazed Van Siclen stumbles out of the corner and right into a double-arm DDT, courtesy of Helmsley! Early cover, as Hallbrook is so kind as to point this out to Mitchell!

“ONE!”

“TWO - TWO!” Kickout by Van Siclen, and Helmsley quickly picks him up, looking to inflict more pain.

“Nice opening sequence by Van Siclen and Helmsley, but that damned Fred Hallbrook had to get involved, and now he’s helped to give Helmsley the early momentum!”

“Yes, and it shall stay that way, Axis. You could’ve been so much like him, too, Axis… it’s a shame you had to team yourself up with that Snow Cone Vomit…”

“I’m warning you, King…”

Helmsley whips Van Siclen into the ropes, waiting for him to come back and looking for a Powerslam, but Van Siclen leapfrogs Helmsley, forcing Helmsley to turn around to face a locomotive in Van Siclen, who comes off the ropes and flies, catching Helmsley in the face with a forearm! Helmsley sells it beautifully as Van Siclen lands on his knees but quickly scrambles to his feet. He sees Helmsley’s proximity to the ropes and comes up with an idea… the Amazin’ One steps outside the ropes, looking in at Helmsley about five feet away.

“Van Siclen looking for the big power early on!”

“Bah. Helmsley won’t allow Mike to get this much momentum this early in a match.”

Of course, Mike quickly forgets about Fred Hallbrook, who is making a mad dash for Mike Van Siclen! As Mike gets ready to vault himself over the top rope, Hallbrook catches Van Siclen in the face with a punch! Mike nearly falls off the ring apron but manages to keep his balance and launches a punch of his own at Hallbrook! It’s Fred’s turn to nearly fall down, but he too manages to keep his balance. Of course, this doesn’t last long, as Mike’s manager, Katelyn, is standing directly behind Hallbrook and ballshots him! Hallbrook grabs his nads, but Kate is not finished, wrapping her arm around Hallbrook’s legs and falling, bringing Hallbrook with her in a rollup to the outside, which she calls the Lethal Injection!

“LETHAL INJECTION! Katelyn gets involved early, catching Fred with her devastating finishing move and allowing Mike to regain his focus on the match at hand!”

“Yes, but all this stalling by Van Siclen has allowed Helmsley to get up in the ring! Mike may be focused, but his opponent is no longer wounded! Go Jake!”

Van Siclen looks down at Hallbrook and Katelyn, a smile on his face as he turns around, trying to pull off the move he was looking for in the first place… but Helmsley, who as King noted got up, knocks Mike off the apron with a hard right! The Amazin’ one lands on the protective padding on the outside, just feet away from the ladder, as Helmsley rolls to the outside to continue working on his prey.

“Well, King, I guess you were right… Van Siclen got his focus back at the worst possible time, and Jacob Helmsley takes advantage, knocking Mike to the outside and near the ladder!”

“But that’s good, Axis! This means the ladder will come into play early on in the match, which means entertainment, which means higher ratings, which means higher pay! Dammit, where’s MacPhisto to bargain with when you need him…”

Helmsley grabs Van Siclen, lifting him to his feet by his blonde locks as he kicks Mike in the stomach, doubling over the Amazin’ one as the Psycho Mantis quickly applies the headlock and BAM! Evenflow DDT right onto the padding! Mike grabs his head in pain, as he doesn’t do the roll over but rather takes the move dangerous style. Helmsley, not seeming to care, picks Mike up by his tights and hair and rolls him into the ring, thinking about following but then looking up at the ceiling, where his gleaming black-and-green pipe hangs. Helmsley smiles. Fuck Van Siclen. He’s gonna bash him with that fucking pipe, and beat his ass with the ladder.

“Helmsley has a dangerous look in his eyes! That DDT must’ve really fired him up!”

“It fired me up too, Axis! I have an adrenalin rush! My adrenalin is flowing through my veins, and it’s telling me that Mike Van Siclen will die tonight!”

Helmsley turns around, looking directly at the ladder with a look of hunger. The Psycho Mantis picks up the ladder and turns around, sliding it into the ring and then sliding in after it. What Helmsley doesn’t realize is the Mike Van Siclen is right there to greet him with a kick to the forehead! The crowd “OOH!”s at the sound of the snap of Van Siclen’s black boot off of Helmsley’s head, and Mike smiles at them, as their energy is firing him up. The Amazin’ One lifts the ladder up, raising it high over his head to the roar of the crowd!

“What is Mike Van Siclen going to do with that ladder?”

“I’m predicting that the so-called ‘Amazin’ One’ tries to go kamikaze on Helmsley, but Jacob no-sells it all and kicks his ass from here to Honolulu, baby.”

Mike holds the ladder under his arm as he lifts up Jacob Helmsley, whipping the big Mantis into the ropes. Mike holds the ladder ready in his hands, looking to slam it into Helmsley’s skull as the Mantis comes back. Jake appears to be coming back and Mike swings the ladder… but Helmsley has one hand on the rope, and he pulls himself to a stop, causing Mike to miss. His momentum spins him around, and as he comes full-circle, facing Helmsley again through the bars of the ladder that is conveniently placed in front of his face, Jake gives him a Superkick right to the ladder!

“THAT IS GOING TO LEAVE A MARK!”

“Jeez, Axis, you want to talk about a mark, why don’t you look at yourself. Jeez.”

Mike falls down, the ladder laying right across his face, and suddenly, Helmsley remembers earlier in the match. The vault over the ropes. Mike couldn’t do it. What better way to add insult to injury?

Helmsley smiles to himself as he climbs through the ropes and onto the apron, Van Siclen only two or three feet away, the ladder laying across his face. Helmsley grins evilly as he leans back, grabbing the ropes and vaulting himself over! The crowd roars as he does a somersault, looking to give Mike a rope-vault 450*… but Mike uses his right arm to power the ladder right into Helmsley! Helmsley gets knocked backwards by the ladder, into the ropes, and he comes back, jumping over Mike’s laying-down body and bouncing off on the other side. Mike, by now, is standing, and Helmsley looks to clothesline him… but Mike grabs the arm! Helmsley is stopped by this, his momentum carrying him forward but Mike’s strength and emotion holding him back. Helmsley turns around, and Mike takes Helmsley’s arm and wraps it around his neck, running forward and sitting out with a brutal wraparound neckbreaker!

“BLACK JACK NECKBREAKER BY VAN SICLEN! He comes out the victor of an absolutely marvelous sequence, and that has to be a HUGE confidence booster this early in a young match.”

“Yes, but overconfidence will kill you, which is exactly what will happen to Mike Van Siclen when Helmsley kicks his ass!”

Van Siclen lifts up Helmsley, whipping him into the corner and following, driving his shoulder into Jacob’s sternum. Mike backs up, allowing Helmsley to catch his breath before cupping Jake’s chin in his hand, lifting him up and SMACK!

WHOOO!

SMACK!

WHOOOO!

SMACK!

WHOOOOO!

Three chops, but Mike isn’t done, as he grabs Helmsley by the arm and whips him hard into the other post, looking for a followup but Helmsley leapfrogs over him, wrapping his legs around Mike’s midsection and rolling forward in a sloppy-but-hell-it-works inside cradle!

“ONE!”

“TWO!”

“THRE- TWO!” Kickout by Van Siclen, and he and Helmsley both lay on the mat, worn out and in dire need of a rest as the ref slowly begins to count them out.

“Mike Van Siclen and Jacob Helmsley have been going full-tilt for about twelve minutes now, and the burn is starting to get to them!”

“It is, Axis, but what is the matter? Are they afraid! Why, me and that British blockhead Edwin MacPhisto went for TWENTY MINUTES once, and did you EVER hear me complain? Noooo. Was there a resthold? Noooooo.”

“King, you’re…”

“Shut up, Axis! What about the time that I carried that hard-breathing fatass the Hville Thugg to a FOUR STAR MATCH? How many people can say that, Axis? I can.”

“King, chill with the kay…”

“And what about what I’m going to do this Saturday night at the OAOAST show ‘Excessive Force’, where I beat the shit out of Tony “The Body” and become the new OAOAST heel color man?”

“KING! Knock it off. Next thing you know, you’ll be giving away our next World champion!”

This moderately amusing verbal altercation allowed Frank Mitchell to get to a six count as Van Siclen and Helmsley slowly try to get up.

“SEVEN!”

Mike is slowly pushing himself up with his hands, almost on his knees. Helmsley, meanwhile, is at the ropes, using the bottom one to try and pull himself up.

“EIGHT!”

Jacob lifts himself, grabbing ahold of the second rope and slowly getting his feet underneath him. Van Siclen, meanwhile, is now on his hands and knees, trying to get his upper body upright.

“NINE!”

Helmsley appears to suddenly get his second wind as he stands up, bouncing off of the ropes and giving Mike a HARD STOMP~! To the kidneys! Mike grabs his side and rolls outside of the ring, as Helmsley grabs the ladder in the middle of the ring and opens it up, setting it up in the middle of the ring and beginning to climb!

“Helmsley is going to get that pipe and he will KILL Mike Van Siclen with it!”

“Yes he is! Yes he is! This is the happiest moment in my five months of color commentary!”

“… that’s just sick. You’re sick.”

Helmsley climbs the ladder slowly, deliberately, as Mike Van Siclen slowly gets to his feet on the outside. Katelyn comes over to help him up, checking on his wounds before allowing him to get back into the ring after a kiss on the cheek. Mike, reenergized, slides in, looking to stop Helmsley from grabbing the pipe… but Jacob is already at the top, the pipe in his hands! All he has to do is undo the wire that holds it… and a thought strikes Mike.

He can’t undo the wire if he can’t reach it.

Mike smiles broadly, bouncing off of the ropes and sliding into the ladder! It folds up and falls down, Mike sliding directly underneath it as Jacob is now holding onto his pipe for dear life… his life becoming, well… his life.

“Van Siclen gets knocked outside but STILL manages to keep Helmsley on his toes. Helmsley has a hold of that pipe, but odds are he won’t be able to get it down!”

“Odds, schmodds, Axis. Van Dicklen is not winning this match, and Jacob Helmsley is not coming down without his trusty pipe!”

“I’m just informing you of the odds, King. It’s not like we’re betting on anything.”

Helmsley swings, his feet dangling a legit six feet from the ground as Van Siclen smiles, pointing to the crowd five times, and five times they call back the letters S! L! I! D! And E! The SLIDE, the finishing move of the “legendary” Thriller Miller. Mike turns around, looking at Helmsley who is angrily fighting to loosen the pipe from the wire. Smiling, Mike ascends the turnbuckle, looking at Helmsley like a bullseye. He makes the four corners of the cross gesture with his hands, bouncing on the ropes for extra momentum before leaping off! His feet, outstretched, are searching for Jacob Helmsley’s chest… but there’s no way he’s going to hit! He barely grazes Helmsley’s left leg, instead falling to the canvas, clutching his ribs in agony as Helmsley continues to hang above the ring.

“Well, Mike went for some HLO right there, but he messed it up!”

“There’s no lesbians here, Axis.”

“No, HLO. High Light Offense.”

“… that’s horrible, Axis. You suck. I almost wish MacPhisto was here.”

“Fuck you, King.”

Van Siclen slowly gets to his feet, shaking the cobwebs out and going over to the downed ladder. Mike knows exactly what to do now as he sets up the ladder almost directly underneath Helmsley, but far enough away so as to make it HIGHLY unlikely Helmsley could get on top of the ladder. Mike quickly climbs the ladder, standing atop it and looking at Helmsley with a mischievous look in his eyes. Angrily, Helmsley swings back and forward, looking to plant both of his boots into Mike’s midsection, but Mike grabs Helmsley’s legs! Jacob hangs precariously in midair, his legs in Van Siclen’s hands and his hands desperately clutching his pipe. Mike, with a twinkle in his eye, does what he does best… put his body on the line.

He falls backwards.

Helmsley realizes what is happening, but it’s too late to do anything as he is catapulted over Van Siclen’s body… over the ropes… and onto the guardrail! Helmsley grabs his ribs as he rolls off it into the crowd, while in the ring Mike just landed HARD on his back from that high-risk move on Helmsley! The crowd ROARS for the beautiful move as Mike tries to get his bearings in the ring.

“OH MY GOD! Mike Van Siclen just CATAPULTED JACOB HELMSLEY OFF OF THE LADDER!”

“But look at how bad Mike hurt himself there, Axis. Sure, he put his body on the line to hurt Helmsley… and, assuredly, Helmsley is HURTING… but was it really worth it for Mike?”

“After the attacks? The ambushes? I’d say hell yes it is worth it to our Amazin’ one.”

This verbal exchange has bought Van Siclen and Helmsley some time, and the two of them are slowly getting to their feet. Helmsley, on the outside, is on his knees behind the barrier, while in the ring, Mike Van Siclen is on his feet, a bit woozy, but determined. The Amazin’ one is slowly climbing the ladder, and there is nothing Helmsley can do about it… and we all know what that means.

“Look at Fred Hallbrook! That son of a bitch is on the ring apron again, and he looks like he has cruel intentions on his mind!”

“I have cruel intentions on my mind, Axis. I’ma fuck you up bad.”

“No you won’t. Edwin will fire your ass.”

“DAMMIT! Foiled again…”

In the ring, Mike is about halfway up the ladder when it starts shaking. Mike looks down, and sees… who else? Fred Hallbrook, of course, trying to knock the ladder down. Knowing he doesn’t have a prayer of getting the pipe with Hallbrook down there, he turns around on the third-to-last step, yelling down at Hallbrook, “Knock me off, you fucking pussy!”

Hallbrook oblidges.

He pushes the ladder over, causing it to make a freefall towards the ropes… and the barrier, just beyond which Jacob Helmsley is slowly getting to his feet. Mike knows this, and he takes advantage, adjusting his body in midair and looking to catch Helmsley with a cross body block from the falling ladder! Helmsley is like a dead target… Mike is coming right for him…

And, naturellement, HELMSLEY HITS THE DECK~! Mike flies right over Helmsley and through a conveniently placed table, his body broken from the impact as Helmsley stands, leaning heavily on the guardrail for help but standing nonetheless. He looks back at Mike Van Siclen and the shattered table that he put himself through. Helmsley touches his forehead… blood, from the stiff kick Van Siclen gave him. This is a hard match… and it’s not even close to being done, Helmsley thinks.

“Mike Van Siclen looks for the crossbody off of the ladder that was knocked over by Fred Hallbrook, but Helmsley dodges, and Mike Van Siclen goes through a table wayyyy past the guardrail!”

“Can you imagine what is going through Mike Van Siclen’s head right now? He is probably so out of it he thinks he went right through Helmsley!”

“Or maybe he knows exactly where he is, King. You never know.”

Van Siclen lay broken, near unconsciousness, in broken table shards as Helmsley climbs over the guardrail, stumbling like he has a cheap red wine hangover but still managing to roll himself inside the ring. He grabs the ladder, which is teetering on the top rope like a seesaw, and lifts it up, setting it up in the middle of the ring and beginning to climb. He mounts the first step as Van Siclen lets out an “uuuuugh” on the outside. The crowd goes nuts, hearing Van Siclen not being dead, and two especially nice fans help him up. Jacob curses Mike as he climbs the ladder some more, nearly on the top step as Katelyn, Mike’s beautiful nurse, slides into the ring and gives the ladder a stiff kick. Not a very hard kick, but enough to be the straw to break the proverbial camel’s back. The ladder has taken an absolute ASSLOAD of punishment all match… and it’s had enough!

It collapses.

Helmsley’s look of horror is priceless as he falls forward, holding onto the ladder like his favorite surfboard as the ladder crashes to the canvas! The impact is so hard it jars Helmsley off the ladder, and Katelyn can’t think of anything to do… so she does the natural thing and gives Helmsley a balls-kick! Helmsley grabs his tortured testes as Fred Hallbrook slides into the ring, looking at Katelyn with anger in his eyes.

“The ladder collapses! Helmsley tries to be its friend, but his bid backfires as Katelyn causes the ladder to collapse! Both men are down, and Fred Hallbrook is about to go to town on Katelyn for knocking over that ladder!”

“Helmsley, though, is in the ring, all that much closer to the pipe! He has the advantage, as does Hallbrook!”

In the ring, Hallbrook looks menacingly at Katelyn, and the nurse looks at him with fear in her eyes… however, Mike’s spunky first-aid-woman slaps Hallbrook as hard as she can across the face! Fred feels a stinging pain in his cheek, but it is nothing compared to the new anger in his eyes, as he turns his head again to look at Katelyn! Out of nothing but pure fear, comes the kick to the jewels!

Ching.

Hallbrook grabs *his* testes in pain now, stepping backwards in pain… and tripping over Helmsley, who is only just starting to recover from the hard ladder-fall! Hallbrook falls forward near the ropes and rolls out of the ring, hoping to get some peaceful time with his nuts. Meanwhile, outside the ring, Van Siclen is standing, and his head is slowly clearing… he can see Katelyn on the outside, now, getting a new ladder from underneath the ring and sliding it inside. Mike hops the guardrail, clutching his ribs in pain as Katelyn looks at him, lust in her eyes as the two lovers kiss passionately on the outside to the delight of the fans!

“Oh come on! It’s a bit late in the match to turn it into HLA!”

“King, you don’t know true love?”

“No.”

“And that explains why you are a GIGANTIC pain in the ass.”

Mike breaks the liplock on Katelyn, thanking her as he slides into the ring, setting up the ladder in the middle. He begins to climb… and climb he does, getting to the third step as Helmsley slowly climbs to his feet. Leaning on the ropes to balance himself, Helmsley looks at Mike Van Siclen, not doing anything as Mike approaches the top of the ladder, and then, out of nowhere like a cat comes Helmsley, running into it with the hardest lariat in the HISTORY of the SJL! The ladder falls backwards, sending a screaming Van Siclen over the top rope and to the padding on the outside. Helmsley, on the inside, is collapsed from the force of his move.

“Helmsley again denies Mike’s attempt to get the pipe! Both men have been trying to get that pipe all night long, and neither of them have! This match could come down to who is the first to climb that ladder and acquire the use of the steel pipe!”

“Yes… which is Helmsley’s. And Helmsley is the one in the ring, again. Jeez, it looks like, by your logic, Helmsley will win. What a surprise.”

Inside the ring, Helmsley staggers to his feet, while on the outside, Van Siclen does the same. Mike grabs onto the ring apron for balance, Helmsley grabs onto the ladder. He opens the folded climbing device and sets it up, directly underneath his steel pipe. He begins to climb, and Mike, seeing this, slides inside the ring and quickly gets on the ladder. Mike is a step behind Helmsley, but both are climbing slow.

Third step, second step.

Seventh step, sixth step.

Ninth step, eighth step. Finally, Van Siclen pulls even with Helmsley on the next to last step, but Helmsley stops Mike’s momentum with a hard right to the forehead! Mike nearly loses his balance, but he manages to hang on. Helmsley, however, takes this split-second to climb onto the top step. He reaches for the pipe… but Van Siclen punches him in the kidneys! Helmsley doubles over, and Mike applies a DDT hold… Van Siclen raises one arm, spinning around on the ladder and bringing his elbow across Helmsley’s neck, using his other hand to keep ahold of Jacob’s hair as they fall all…

The way…

Down…

And hit the canvas! Mike pulls out a Code Red off of the ladder, and Helmsley looks dead!

“CODE RED FROM ATOP THE LADDER!”

“COME ON, HELMSLEY!”

Van Siclen stands up, looking at the pipe dangling from the ceiling. It is time to finish this match, he thinks to himself.

Mike climbs. And climbs to the top of the ladder, where the pipe is waiting for him. Deftly, Mike pulls it off of the wire, and holds it up for the benefit of the crowd!

“FINALLY! MIKE VAN SICLEN HAS THE PIPE!”

“NONONONONO!”

“What will he do with that pipe?”

Mike is about to answer… as he holds the pipe high over his head and lets himself fall… falling forward, the pipe extended in Mike’s arm, towards the forehead of his foe, Jacob Helmsley…

KLONG!

The pipe catches Helmsley in the head as Mike lands full-on on his still pained ribs! Mike manages to ignore the pain long enough to make the cover, though, on a near-unconscious Jacob Helmsley!

The crowd counts along at “ONE!”

“TWO!”

“THREE!”

-=:Ding Ding Ding:=-

“Your WINNER, and MOVING ON IN THE WORLD TITLE CONTENDERSHIP TOURNEY, MIKE VAN SICLEN!”

The crowd goes apeshit as Mike stands up, tiredly, being helped by Katelyn as Hallbrook comes into the ring, apologizing to Jacob for not saving him. Helmsley can’t hear him… but there will be hell to pay. You can bank on that.

…fade…

September 11, 2002

After the commercial break ends, we return to the SJL’s Wrath. The camera pans the crowd for signs and spots one :

“MAK FRANCIS IS YOUR GOLDEN GOD!”

BoooooooOOOOOOOOooooooo!!!!!! And more jeers. Damn SWO, putting their own signs in the crowd.

(Axis) “Welcome back to SJL Wrath, folks. We are LIVE, from the First Union Center in Pittsburgh, Pa., and we are nearing the end of the show, and there was a Steel Pipe Ladder Match before the commercial break.”

(Edwin) “Oi, ‘tis brutal and sique. Does anyone who wasn’t watching need to guess who was in that match?”

<insta_replay match = 4>

(King) “Wow… nothing says ‘I love you so much I want to gut you open’ better than a cold steel pipe!”

(Edwin) “Coming up right now is a match yours truly has booked… at the demands of two very annoying bastards. Boys and girls… Flexxx and Manson.”

(Axis) “Looks like Funyon will be commencing the matchup now!”

*** “LAAAADIIIIES AND GEEENTLEMENNN!!!!! THIS SCHEDULED EVENT IS A…… *yawn* another bland, normal singles match. Expect nothing great. Here are your INTENSE~! opponents, ugh…” ***

The arena turns pitch black and red strobelights pulsate at the entrance, when "Born as Ghosts" plays and a video of Flexxx's signature attacks is shown on the SmarkTron screen. Flexxx walks onto the ramp and does the Diamond Cutter taunt... then breaks his hands apart, signaling a huge yellow stream of pyro to fly into the ramp!

*BOOM*

*BAAANG!!!*

From within the yellow smoke created by the explosions, Flexxx twirls around his kendo stick and calmly walks down the rampway, pointing to himself and ranting at the same damn time.

“The first wrestler, at 247 pounds and 6’ 4”, from Rochester, New York………… THA FLUNK-MASTA FLLEEEEEEEEEEEXXX!!!!!!!!”

After the Flunkmasta enters the ring and gains lots of cheat heat with the middle finger-raisings in the four corners, "Snap Your Fingers, Snap Your Neck" by Prong hits, as the SmarkTron comes to life with a grainy entrance video, colored in shades of gray. Bloody red strobe lights flash on and off, as Manson tosses aside the entrance curtain and stops at the head of the rampway to stand for a moment in the crucifix position.

“The second wrestler, at 215 pounds and 6’ 0”, from New York City…………… MAAAANSOOOON!!!!!!!!!”

He breaks out of his pose, and slowly makes his way down to the ring… but when Flexxx steps toward the ropes and waves over to him, Manson is completely overtaken by rage, throws his coat off, and stands still. Right in front of Flexxx.

(Axis) “What is Manson doing? He seems… to be… hyperventilating.”

(King) “Is this some sort of game already!?”

Flexxx looks weirdly at him, and yells at him to get in the ring, but Manson doesn’t respond. He only raises his arms into the crucifix again, and Flexxx turns back so he can whine to the referee that he should consider Manson’s refusal to enter the ring a forfeit to Fletcher. Just then… Manson slides under the rope and dives under for a Low Blow!

(King) “NO! The face isn’t supposed to be bending the rules, the heel is!!!”

As Flexxx grimaces in genital pain and stumbles on his feet, the ref rings the bell…

“DING! DING! DING!”

Manson smirks while Flexxx is stumbling around the ring from the occurrence of the pre-bell groin attack, and Manson raises his arm up before charging his opponent with a stiff clothesline! But Flexxx ducks underneath Manson’s arm and turns around to knock Manson in the face with a hard right punch, and then another, before lifting his chin up with a crackling uppercut! As Manson is knocked backwards a small bit, Flexxx also stomps on both sets of Manson’s toes, forcing the Savior to mutter curses under his breath. Flexxx grabs Manson’s arm and whips him into the ropes, but the careless one reverses the whip into a Drop Toe Hold and lands the Flunkmasta onto his face and knees, before wrapping his knuckle-protruding hands around Flexxx’s head and locking into a crossface!

(Axis) “Manson has Flexxx in a wrestling-wise corner with a ground crossface lock…”

Flexxx kicks his legs up and down, trying to gain strength over his former run-in buddy, before he can lift his arms up and attempt to pry Manson’s fingers off of him! The early cheers in the crowd die off as Manson’s tightly gripped hands are pulled off and Flexxx elbows Manson on his right side… when Manson tries to keep the crossface lock on and Flexxx uses his backlegs to force both men in a stand, Manson immediately shoves Flexxx out of his way and backs off! In turn, a confused Flexxx stares back at Manson…

(Axis) “But now, it seems like these two are at an even draw…”

(King) “This is retarded, why are they standing around now!? One of you ATTACK!”

(Axis) “They know each other’s strategies too well… they were tag partners for quite a while, remember?”

While Flexxx is within confusion, Manson charges the Flunkmasta with a somewhat weak toe kick to the gut, but then follows up with another stiff clothesline that *nearly* propels Flexxx’s body over the ropes! With Flexxx’s leaning on the ropes, Manson latches onto Flexxx’s right arm and ties it underneath the 3rd rope for an aggravating armbar… and Flexxx groans and groans as one of his limbs is being twisted around the covered steel cable. With even more resistance this time, Flexxx once again tries stomping on Manson’s boots to make him let go… and Manson becomes so annoyed with Flexxx that he breaks the armbar and whips the bastard into the corner. The Savior walks over and poses in the Crucifix… before snapping a furious kick into Flexxx’s midsection, cracking one into the man’s side chest as well, and going for one final heel-kick of silence… directly below Flexxx’s throat!

OHH!!!, goes the crowd.

(Edwin) “Damn yo, a kick that stiff could dislodge a goiter!”

Seething with horrible pain, Flexxx slowly droops off the turnbuckle before Manson lifts him up and rams his ribcage into his kneecap with a Ribbreaker. After laying Flexxx out on the mat, Manson slowly steps onto the corner’s 2nd rope and drops down for a no-height, pure-velocity kneedrop on Flexxx’s chest! Manson hooks the leg for a pinfall…

“ONE!”

“TWO!”

And a kickout… Manson quips his raven-black hair off of his face and wipes the sweat off of his forehead, and he is starting to become quite frustrated. Flexxx tries to roll himself off of his much-pained sides, but Manson retaliates by dropping a swift, falling elbow onto his foe’s skull. He then mounts right on top of Flexxx and clutches the squirming bastard’s trachea with one hand, attempting to squeeze the life out of it, and Manson raises the other hand for one hella furious barrage of punches. Pounding his knuckles into Flexxx’s aching head over and over again, the defenseless Flunkmasta gasps for air from the combined choke-punches, and kicks his legs up and down. While Manson takes his anger out on his sleazy ex-partner, the referee tries again and again to break the choke… and when Manson takes his attention on the referee, Flexxx plants his boot heel on the bottom rope!

“ROPE BREAK!!!!!!!”, screams the conniption-bearing official. He pulls on Manson’s arm to tear him away from Flexxx, and Manson finally stands up to confront the referee. The two men shout back and forth to each other…

(Edwin) “Why is Manson taking his faults up with Sexton!? Ugh… do I have to go in and officiate myself?”

(King) “If you did that, you would have to disqualify both of them!”

(Edwin) “Nah… Flexxx is the bigger dickhead. He’d be disposed with in a split second!”

Speaking of the devil, Flexxx slowly struggles to get his arm up underneath Manson, thinking of getting in a low blow… before Manson cuts off the referee’s talking and blasts a kick into Flexxx’s underarm! With his being set back down completely, Manson lifts the X-rated one back onto his two feet and steps behind him, before positioning his left leg and both arms around Flexxx… and locking into a rather painful Abdominal Stretch. Manson’s enemy groans and groans as his middle and upper body is being wretched in two directions at once over Manson’s knee!

(Axis) “Another decise attack at Flexxx’s middle body from Manson… he still has that pointblank precision from his ‘Gangland Execution’ days.”

And while Flexxx is desperately looking for an escape route from the hold, Manson sets his knee down from Flexxx and then thursts it full-force into the victim’s bottom ribs. The Flunkmasta’s head droops down from the anguish, but Manson keeps the fire going with two more knee jabs into the bottom ribcage, weakening his opponent significantly. With his renewed rival now at his complete domination, Manson switches gears by changing the Abdominal Stretch into a Hammerlock. Manson raises his one free arm into the air… drawing in the crowd’s energy… and then leaps up and comes crashing down on his rear, with Flexxx’s skull being driven into the canvas on its side.

(King) “A Sit-out Hammerlock Drop! Damn… Manson’s doing too well here.”

With Flexxx layed out flat, Manson presses two hands on the chest for a pinfall -

“ONE!”

“TWO!”

“THR-kickout!”

Flexxx gets the ol’ shoulder up! Manson looks at him weirdly… and then lifts him back up again. Manson punches Flexxx into the ropes, and then recommences the fast stomping to bring Flexxx down onto his knees and hanging on his arms… Manson rests Flexxx’s arm onto his shoulder and grabs the tights, before lifting him up for a suplex and stalling halfway… before thrusting Flexxx down in a forward-motion Gourdbuster that causes a gruesome collision between the maverick’s body and the 3rd rope! Flexxx falls down backwards, dropping onto the solid concrete. With Manson looking over his enemy’s worn-down body from the ring’s view, Flexxx slowly gets up… cursing the loner’s name under his breath. Manson watches intently, and Flexxx pulls himself onto the apron, gazing into the squared circle… right before Manson sprints at him and connects with a sliding dropkick to Flexxx’s chin!

(Edwin) “This is too fun to watch… how does it feel to be held down, Fletcher?”

The Flunkmasta collapses down on the concrete again, almost hitting his head on the steel barricade from the impact of the dropkick. This time, using his hands, Flexxx pushes his tired-ass self off of the cold-hard flooring again and clutches the edge of the apron… again… and looks up at the arena lights to find Manson directly above his head! Manson waves to him, before lifting Flexxx’s two feet onto the apron by his arms and head, and then clutching the waist for yet another suplex, with a destination set for inside the ring. Manson suplexes Flexxx overhead… and Flexxx flips himself to evade the suplex, coming behind the unexpecting Manson and quickly rolling him on his back for a Small Package pinfall… complete with the Flunkmasta’s two feet set on the 2nd rope!

(Edwin) “What the fu- you cheating asshole!”

“ONE!”

“TWO-kickout!”

(Axis) “Even with Flexxx’s two feet on the rope, Manson managed to kick out.”

(Edwin) “Bah… well I better not see that weak conduct in my ring again tonight!”

Not even one drop of sweat drips down Manson’s face as he immediately springs upwards from the hastily made pin, and Flexxx also gets up fairly quick. Manson tries to maneuver himself around Flexxx and take another strategic position, but Flexxx instantly knocks Manson down with a lunging elbow shot to his neck’s spinal cord! After Manson lands on his knees, Flexxx grabs him in a ¾ facelock and whips him over his kneecap with a snapmare. While Manson is facing away from Flexxx and sitting, the ragin’ Flunkmasta stomps, stomps and stooomps away like total madness into Manson’s back… before Flexxx runs to the ropes and rebounds back with a running kick into the back of Manson’s skull! Immediately after Manson’s face falls in between his two legs, Flexxx drags Manson back off of the mat and wraps his arm above the loner’s neck for a headlock. The Flunkmasta grinds away slowly at a still-enduring Manson’s neck… before Flexxx gets a feeling behind his back of his being lifted off the ground! The crowd cheers as Manson positions himself and has his arms around Flexxx’s midsection… before Flexxx lets go of the headlock and knocks Manson down with a rather stiff back-elbow. With Manson now topped over again, Flexxx clutches a handful of Manson’s raven-black hair and pulls him up by the bangs…

(Axis) “It seems like Flexxx has the upperhand now for the first time in this match.”

(Edwin) “And it started with a cheap illegal rollup from behind… oh yeah, I did not see that coming at all. Nope, not at all! <gag>”

(King) “Good thing there, I was getting sick of Manson owning my main man.”

Flexxx has Manson on his feet now, whom is just sort of wobbling around and now looks somewhat fazed. With a restored look of arrogance on his face, Flexxx grabs the tights of Manson and delivers to his foe a highly impactful Snap Suplex! After the loud in-ring THUD!, Flexxx pushes on his leg muscles to carry both Manson and his own weakened body into an upright position… and the X-rated One has a slight delay before following up with yet another Snap Suplex on that spine. With even a little more difficulty this time around, Flexxx lifts himself and Manson into a stand, backs up into the three ring ropes, and goes on to lift his rival into a Vertical Suplex, stalls for five seconds…

…Before Manson is dropped in midair, with his vertebrae directly colliding against the concrete!

(Axis) “OUCH!!! Was that a protected fall!?”

Now the faithless Manson’s body is collapsed on the cold, flat stone floor, and Flexxx is now having a field day’s worth of enjoyment. When Manson tries rolling off of his back and lifting himself back up, it appears almost like the man actually broke something in that several-foot plummet. Flexxx steps out onto the ring’s apron, looming in front of Manson, and the grounded loner stares into Flexxx’s eyes with a grimacing look of despair on his face. The arrogant Flunkmasta waves over to the crowd and points to himself, garnishing a rather soundly bunch of jeerings, before raising his two hands and putting his two closed fists next to each other.

Looking upward at old friend Fletcher, Manson has a hazed look of expression as his opponent leaps off of the apron and dives right at his downed target with a flying clothesline!

………

……….and Manson ducks underneath Flexxx’s body, leaving him to dive down front-first into the barricade… landing with that steel edge jammed directly underneath his chest!

“OOOOUUUUUUUCHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!”, bellows Flexxx.

(Axis) “FLEXXX FLEW INTO THE STEEL BARRICADE!!! A FRONT-ON COLLISION WITH THE MAN’S RIBS!!! RIGHT ON THOSE DOGGONE RIBS, BAH GAWD!”

(King) “You ever consider that people locked you in a shed cause maybe, just maybe, your fucking seizures drove them bloody insane!?”

(Axis) “Ohh… sorry dude, my bad.”

That bastard Flexxx, now the crowd is cheering like crazy as the poor guy is holding maybe two or one broken ribs, and is seeeeeeething in agony! Talk about love from the people… and Manson echoes the sentiments by forcing a squinting Flexxx into facing towards him. Manson looks extremely angered from having to take that suplex fall on the concrete, so he straightens out Flexxx’s posture to set him up, and slowly backs his arm before unleasing a powerful knife-edge chop near the possibly broken ribs:

*SMACK* - “OOOOOOHHHHHH!!!!!”

Manson gives out a second one…

*SMACK* - “OOOOOOHHHHHH!!!!!”

Flexxx is swearing and coughing at the same time, before Manson unleashes the third chop…

*CRACK* - “OOOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHH!!!!!”

(Axis) “Manson is doing whatever he can to break Flexxx down for good… after that accidental fall on the ribs, how can he even think of evading him now???”

Edwin would comment at this time, but he and King are too busy munching on a big bucket of o’ greasy’s popcorn.

(Axis) “…the hell…”

Fletcher Callaway is now nearly collapsed on the ground, breathing heavily and almost wheezing, as he cringes in severe pain and agony. Manson coldly stares Flexxx down in his eyes, almost as a way of sending a message to him that can only be communicated by facial gesture, a feeling of utter and complete disgust… and Flexxx shuts his eyes, as Manson poses in the Crucifix while staring at him, and slides his right leg backwards slightly before letting loose an extremely powerful and sudden roundhouse snap kick into his former partner’s torso. With one crackling sound of bone against hardened leather, Flexxx grovels onto the ground, and is thus reduced to painful crawling… the selling of Manson’s violent attacks to Flexxx’s physique is becoming decreasingly comical by the minute. Manson picks up the stomach-grounded enemy and whips him with almost uncontrolled force towards the ring’s outer corner… but Flexxx gains a footing and reverses, sending Manson into a tripping and crashing on the steel steps!

(Edwin) “Ah crappity crap crap, I knew Manson’s upperhand wouldn’t last much longer.”

With Manson kneeling down now, Flexxx quickly tosses him into the ring and rolls himself in more slowly, due to lasting physical damage. The Flunkmasta grabs a hold of the skilled Manson and brings him down on his face with a foreward Russian Legsweep. After laying him out on the mat, Flexxx starts punching the living daylights out of Manson until his arm becomes exhausted. Then, Flexxx stands up and grabs a hold of Manson’s left leg to stomp his hard leather boots into Manson’s soft leg muscle, repeatedly. Soon, the X-Rated One latches right onto his opponent’s foot and twists Manson on his side, before dropping down with a stiff elbow into his leg’s backside. Immediately afterward, Flexxx locks into a reverse Achilles Heel lock and shakes his head in circles as he attempts to tear apart Manson’s foot and hinder him in some sort of way. The self-proclaimed Savior is groveling in considerable pain, but he is not far away from the ropes… so he grabs the bottom rope.

(Axis) “Ohh… that’s gotta suck. It would have helped if he pulled him away further.”

Flexxx tries to pull Manson off of the ropes with every bit of strength left in him, but Manson keeps his hand latched on that rope. In disregard to the nuisance, Flexxx continues the Achilles hold, but referee Sexton Hardcastle tugs on Flexxx’s shirt… and the Flunkmasta stands to go face-to-face with that annoying ref. As Flexxx and Sexton have verbal combat, Manson grabs the top rope and pulls his body off of the mat…

(King) “Eh, look people. Manson’s standing back up again.”

(Edwin) “Uh… yay, I guess.”

As soon as Sexton ends the disagreement, Flexxx walks back over to Manson and grabs his leg to continue attacking it… when Manson quips his head upwards and uses the rope’s leverage to jump with a hard Gamengiri flipkick to Flexxx’s chin, knocking him backwards. As Flexxx stumbles around, Manson wraps his arms around Flexxx’s back for an overhead Belly-to-Belly suplex… which Flexxx delays with a knee-ram into Manson’s gut, and a very stiff, very quick front Half-Nelson suplex counter.

(Axis) “Flexxx drives Manson’s head into the canvas with his ‘Penetration Plex’, doing significant damage.”

Flexxx hooks the leg for a pinfall…

“ONE!”

“TWO!”

“THREE-kickout!”

Flexxx does look dispaired, but he quickly lifts Manson back up again, and then whips him into the ropes. After Manson collides with the steel post, Flexxx swings his index finger around in the air before charging towards Manson with a Sweet Chin Music… and Manson rolls out of the way, with Flexxx’s leg receiving a sharp impact against a steel turnbuckle cable. Manson whips his long hair out of his face and positions Flexxx’s other leg between two ropes, before he starts to climb up to the top rope. He grabs the former partner’s head…

(Axis) “I think he’s going to do a facebuster off the top rope…”

…But Flexxx lifts Manson off of him by his two legs and sets him down on the rope cable… with the cable right underneath his crotch!

(Axis) “NO! Flexxx stops him with an unpleasant Atomic Drop to the 3rd rope!”

Using the time that Manson is falling to pain in an effort to stall him, Flexxx gets himself and his legs off and away from the turnbuckle corner. Soon thereafter, Flexxx grabs the grimacing Manson’s arm and hiptosses him back into the ring. Clutching Manson’s long black hair, Flexxx drags his old rival into the middle of the ring and gives him some strongly hateful looks, and spits to the side, before clutching Manson’s head with an inverted facelock and twisting with the arms in a fluid motion, with Manson now in the ¾ facelock over Flexxx’s right shoulder.

(King) “This is it… he’s going to connect with the Twisterfuck!”

…Manson pushes Flexxx away before he can hit his signature knockout hit, right before grabbing Flexxx’s head and bringing him down with an Inverted Swinging Neckbreaker!

(Axis) “NO… NO STUNNER! Manson counters!!!”

He pins Flexxx down once more for that fall…

“ONE!”

“TWO!!”

“THREE-wait a minnit, HEY! Get that foot off there! HEY!”

Agh… Flexxx with that damned foot on the rope again. Manson is overcome by powerful rage when he sees Flexxx worming his way out of defeat once more, and he lifts the grounded Flunkmasta back on his feet to try and break him down as much more as he possibly can… at this point. Manson puts his arms around Flexxx’s chest once again and Belly-to-Belly suplexes him over Manson’s head… and rather damn stiffly onto his spine, with Flexxx holding his sides in agony and kicking his feet up and down. Manson immediately gets back on his own feet, and stares down at Fletcher… raising his arms into the Crucifix once more.

(King) “Uh oh… what is Manson thinking?”

He then lifts Flexxx into a standing position and backs his leg up suspiciously for-

*CRACK* - “OOOOOOOOOHHHHHHH!!!!!!”

…another viciously sharp roundhouse kick to the midsection! Before Flexxx can even drop to the ground again though or even get to the ropes, Manson stands behind Flexxx and puts him into the Abdominal Stretch once more, except that this time, Manson slaps on an inverted facelock with it and wretches away at Flexxx’s body and head both at once, with his knee practically fusing into Flexxx’s two heavily damaged ribs and causing him an IMMENSE amount of burning pain on his side!

(Axis) “This is Manson’s Stretch Plum hold! With a submission like this and in Flexxx’s condition, there is NO WAY IN HELL he won’t tap out!”

The X-Rated Badass is crying out in sheer agony whilst Manson is bending the poor pitiful bastard’s body in half, flailing his arms around like a mentally ill madman and trying in complete vain to escape from Mafia’s finishing submission… but the more and more struggle Flexxx gives, the more and more that Manson’s hold tears him apart. With his body being twisted into a pretzel, the referee Sexton Hardcastle looked Flexxx in his shut eyes and grabbed his arm… then dropped it.

(Axis) “What the… Sexton’s doing the submission countout!”

“ONE!”

“TWO!”

Sexton raises Flexxx’s arm once more… but Flexxx keeps the arm up this time, and Manson tries even harder to keep him in the Stretch Plum, but Flexxx reaches his arm out as far as he can… straining at his injured ribs and his neck… and his fingers are hovering right around the ropes…

And Flexxx pries his fingers onto the rope and holds onto it with all of his strength!

(Edwin) “DAMNIT!!! THAT STUPID JERK GOT TO THE ROPES!”

Manson tried keeping on the Stretch Plum submission maneuver, even while Flexxx clearly gained the robe break, and Manson now had Flexxx backed into an even tighter corner! Now Flexxx was waving towards the referee with his free arm as a signal that he was tapping out, but he was still holding the rope and had the rope break, so Sexton ignores Flexxx and tears Manson away from him with all his strength before Manson turns to clothesline the referee onto the floor! Then, Manson turns back to Fletcher, who was in terrible pain and kneeling on the mat, when Manson relocked into the Stretch Plum behind Flexxx’s back…

And suddenly, Manson receives a backward kick to the nuts!

(Axis) “Manson knocks down the referee, and now I’m sure he regrets it after that groin shot!”

With the lone executioner’s dropping his jaw from being kicked in that oh-so-undesirable area, Flexxx grapples his way out of Manson’s considerably loosened Stretch Plum and puts his right arm across his rival’s throat and shoulder, and then tossing one of Manson’s arms over Flexxx’s shoulder… making it appear as if the Flunkmasta is going for a Rock Bottom. Not wasting any more time than he already has, the weakened Flexxx uses his strength to lift Manson up into the air horizontally…

…and thrust him with one extremely stiff vaulting arm onto the mat, with Manson’s back cranium and neck being driven into the canvas.

(Edwin) “FLUNK-DOWN! FLUNK-BLOODY-FUCKING-DOWN!”

(Axis) “Flexxx is hooking the leg for the pinfall!”

(Edwin) “Well, this has been a nice day gentlemen…”

“ONE!”

“TWO!”

“THREEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!”

(Edwin) “…until now…”

DING! DING! DING!

(Funyon) “HERE IS YOUR WINNER BY PINFALL… THE FLUNKMASTA FLEEEEEEEEEEEEXXX!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

“Born as Ghosts” sounds off on the SmarkTron speakers, and Flexxx circles his middle fingers around over Manson’s head and even goes so far as to spit on his shirt, as he dances around the ring and celebrates the victory! But… he still feels an immense pain from moving around with the damaged rib, and Flexxx rolls out of the ring and walks down the ramp while clutching his sides.

Manson isn’t out cold in the ring, though… he gives one last glimpse at Fletcher before setting his head back on the mat.

(King) “Heh… Edwin didn’t quite get his way tonight now did he?”

(Edwin) “Foolish King! There’s still the main event… SWO vs SWO. The commish shall win somehow tonight. Somehow…”

<…Fade to black…>

September 11, 2002

"Hello everyone and WELCOME back to SJL Wrath!" Axis cries, grinning widely. "And now it's time for what you've all been waiting for--our #1 Contendership Tournament MAIN EVENT!" The camera makes a sweep of the wildly cheering audience, catching for posterity such witty homemade signs as "CiB II! (picture of CIA) World Champ Again, eh!", "(picture of Tom Dillon) I Have Some Irish In Me--But I'd Like Some More" (held up by a busty young redhead), "Obligatory Cutthroat Insult", "NO-SELL THAT! (picture of Tom Flesher)" and "OaOaOaOwhO?".

"The sWo EXPLODES~!" Edwin cheers. "AGAIN~! Mak Francis, the oh-so-recent-but-no-longer-World-Champion faces his stablemate, the maniacal Fugue! The winner will go on to participate in ANOTHER #1 Contendership match next week on Crimson!"

"These two men have only fought once before," the Suicide King comments. "Way back in June, in fact, and the Franchise made Fugue his bitch. I think both these guys are great, so we should see some awesome heelish action from both of them!"

"But apparently Francis and Fugue *are* friends," Axis counters. "That can't help but affect this match, can it?"

"Axis," the King replies, "in that ring, when something this important is on the line...there ain't NO such thing as 'friends'."

"Ooh, I can't wait!" Edwin bounces in his seat.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Funyon booms, the camera focusing for a moment on his outrageously sequined tuxedo before quickly looking away, "the following contest is the second match of our WORLD TITLE NUMBER ONE CONTENDERSHIP...uh...CONTENDERSHIP MATCH! Introducing first--" Funyon stops as the lights are suddenly extinguished, plunging the arena into darkness. A swell of boos build from the crowd as the familiar "Toccata and Fugue" wends its way through the air, a sudden flash and detonation of pyro replacing it with "Ashes in the Fall" as Fugue steps onto the ramp. "Weighing in at 181 pounds," Funyon continues, "From Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, representing the sWo...FUUUUGUE!" The manic musician stalks down the ramp, his grin lit by white strobes as he leers at the audience from behind his shades, black trenchcoat flapping around him as he walks.

"Fugue looks...uh...creepy as always," Axis says.

"It's all part of the mental game," the King replies. "You'd understand that, Axis, if you actually had a brain."

Fugue divests himself of his coat, dropping it and his sunglasses outside the ring. His black T-shirt has the letters "sWo" on it, front and back, in stark white. Fugue runs the ropes a couple of times, then leans back against them and watches the entrance ramp, an obscure smile on his face.

And then a whisper..."Are you ready?"

The crowd begins to boo even louder as blue and white strobes illuminate the arena. The big screen shows Mak Francis himself landing a perfect kick on TNT. His face peers out from the screen...

"Are you READY?"

A clip of his European Title 4 way match, CIA tapping to Mak's figure-four leg lock. Once again, the face of the Franchise--

"'CAUSE THE FRANCHISE IS HEEEEEERE!"

Francis thrusts the curtain aside and begins to walk down the ramp, a confident smile on his face. He pays no heed to the incredibly loud derision of the crowd, nor the fans leaning over the barricades to yell at him. Francis sneers at the front rows before turning to walk up the steps, stepping slowly into the ring. His eyes meet those of Fugue as the light and noise rage around them.

"My god," Axis says, "these Pennsylvanians just HATE the Franchise!"

"And I thought this was the city of Brotherly Love!" the King adds. "Not to mention BOTH these competitors' home town!"

"I'm sure the fans here would much rather they live somewhere else," Edwin snickers.

"And his opponent," Funyon continues, "Weighing in at 225 pounds...from Philadelphia," Funyon breaks off, wincing, as he is drowned out by the boos of the fans. After the noise quiets a bit, he continues, "He is The Franchise...MAAAAK FRANCCCIIISssssssssss!" Francis throws a contemptuous glance at the announcer, who quickly scurries out of the ring. Then he turns and gives his full attention to his stablemate, his opponent...Fugue.

Eddy Long gets in the ring and signals to the timekeeper. DINGINGING!

Fugue pushes himself off from the ropes and walks slowly forward. The Franchise meets his gaze, looking calmly down at the musician. The two men stare at one another, coming face to face--and suddenly they grab at each other, locking up as they both try to get the upper hand. Francis overpowers the smaller Fugue and cinches in a collar and elbow tieup. The musican flails desperately, then shoves Francis away. The Franchise runs across the ring and bounces off the ropes, then charges back and leaps forward with a forearm. Fugue is caught in the chest and flung backward, turning completely over onto his stomach. Francis gets to his feet--then sees Fugue spring up just as quickly. The two men regard each other for a moment.

"I can feel the intensity building already!" Axis says.

"Fugue definitely doesn't want to try to meet Francis on an amateur-wrestling level," the King notes.

"Fortunately, Fugue has his own weird style to inflict upon his opponent," Edwin adds. "Whee!"

The two warriors approach again. Francis makes a grab but Fugue catches his right wrist and pulls it to the side, wrenching Francis' arm around behind his back. Francis grimaces but quickly leans down and rolls into a headstand flip, leaping up and twisting the two linked arms in the other direction. Fugue stumbles as Francis bears down on the hammerlock, then drops to a crouch and turns a somersault of his own. Francis staggers again, but pulls at the hold and forces Fugue's arm around with sheer strength. Fugue turns away from the pressure--and Francis punches at his lower back. Fugue's body jerks and he releases the hold. Francis quickly wraps his leg around Fugue's and pulls them both backward, both bodies slamming to the mat.

"What a superb display of pure wrestling!" Axis hypes.

"It was just some wristlocks, Axis," the King sniffs.

"It's always good to see attention paid to the classics, though," Edwin asserts.

As the two men push to their feet, Francis suddenly grabs one of Fugue's arms and turns around. He moves back to back with the musician and hooks his other arm, pulling forward and leaning down as Fugue is hauled into the air.

"Francis gets a quick backslide!" Axis says.

"Good strategy there--don't let up on your opponent!" the King notes.

Francis leans down further, pulling Fugue's arms backward...then he stops, grimacing. Fugue's grin becomes strained as he stares up at the lights, the muscles in his arms standing out as he wrenches back at the hold. Francis sways slightly as his own arms are pulled back--then he grits his teeth and pulls Fugue's shoulders down to the mat. Eddy Long slides down to count--

ONE!

TW--Fugue jerks his body hard and Francis releases one of his arms. The musician falls to the side, landing on his stomach. Scattered applause from the crowd greets this maneuver.

"No, still too early!" Axis says.

"I wonder if it's smart of Francis to risk his arms like that," the King comments.

Fugue scrambles away, getting to a crouch as he peers at the Franchise. Francis quickly gets to his feet and looks back at his opponent with narrowed eyes. Fugue grins and stands, stalking forward again. Franchise waits for a bare instant--then leaps forward and dives low, grabbing Fugue's right leg and sending him to the mat. In an instant Franchise is riding Fugue's back in an amateur hold, pressing him down to the mat, his arms locked around Fugue's head and right shoulder. Fugue struggles, then his head whips back and smacks Francis in the face. The Franchise reels and Fugue grabs Francis' right arm. He stands, holding Francis' arm, and leaps over his body, turning the helpless Franchise onto his back. Fugue lands on the mat and immediately locks his legs around Francis' arm, pulling the elbow in a direction it was never meant to move. Francis flails on the mat and drags with his feet, turning both men around until his outstretched foot makes the ropes. Eddy Long yells and gesticulates at Fugue--but the musician won't release the hold! The referee begins a count...

ONE!

TWO!

THREE!

FOUR--and Fugue lets go and gets to his feet, backing away.

"Fugue with a nasty cross arm breaker!" Axis narrates. "After that, uh, inverted head BUTT!"

"You don't need to name EVERY move, Axis," the King says.

"Fugue wouldn't release that hold!" Edwin says. "Isn't Mak supposed to be his friend? This is getting interesting!"

"But Francis has NEVER yet tapped out!" Axis replies. "It would be incredible for him to do it now!"

"Hey, there's a first time for everything!" the King counters. "You might even lose your virginity one of these days, Axis!"

"Oh, TAG!" says Edwin.

Mak Francis gets to his feet, shaking his right arm. He glares at Fugue, who makes an exaggerated shrug and smiles innocently. Francis stalks forward, and Fugue quickly meets him. The two men grab for each other and lock up again, fighting for purchase--Francis gets a hand free and smacks Fugue across the face, then leans down and grabs him around the waist. The Franchise convulses with effort and hauls Fugue into the air, whipping his body up, over and down onto his back behind. Francis bridges into a cover, Eddy Long counts--

ONE!

TWO--Fugue kicks out and aims an elbow at Francis' head for good measure.

"Beautiful Northern Lights suplex by Mak!" Axis cries.

"Of course, that's a move Fugue specializes in as well..." the King muses.

Francis pulls back and gets to his feet, a grim smile on his face as he regards his opponent. Fugue grins as well, then backpedals and bounces against the ropes. Francis moves forward to meet the charge but Fugue dives and rolls, knocking straight into the Franchise' legs. The surprised Francis goes down in a heap and Fugue immediately swarms up his body to the arm. Fugue sits on Francis' back and wraps his legs around the Franchise' right arm, pulling relentlessly up. He leans back, reaching with one hand for the other arm...

"Fugue locks on the Fujiwara armbar!" Axis cries. "And could he be going for the Minor Chord?"

"He's going for it, but that doesn't mean he'll get it!" Edwin returns.

The crowd comes alive as Fugue strains to lock in the hold. As he reaches back Francis suddenly pushes upward, jerking his entire body. Fugue is caught off-guard and unbalanced, and Francis pushes him forward off of his body. The Franchise aims a shot at Fugue's lower back again, then stands up only to fall down and slam his elbow against Fugue's neck. The musician convulses in pain and tries to scramble to his feet, but Francis relentlessly grabs for his head. The Franchis turns around and leaps downward, pulling the helpless Fugue down with him--the two men slam to the mat.

"What a neckbreaker by Francis!" Axis says. "The Franchise is so good at attacking his opponents' necks!"

"And just a couple of weeks ago, Fugue took BOTH Death Myers Drivers from Brother Red himself!" the King adds. "And just LAST week he was hit with the TKO by that same sWo member!"

"Good point, King!" Axis replies. "You gotta wonder what shape Fugue's neck is in! It CAN'T be 100 percent!"

"And yes, I DID make those matches," Edwin adds. "No applause, please. Well, maybe a little if you must." Unbeknownst to him, a fan stands up behind Edwin in the camera view holding a "WILSON FOR PRESIDENT" sign.

"Speaking of Myers," the King says, "I stopped by the sWo locker room today and things were VERY tense in there! After everything these guys have done to each other, I felt like it was going to explode at any moment!"

"Oh, stop, I'm blushing!" Edwin replies, preening.

Fugue's body twitches, and he turns over onto his stomach and drags himself toward the side of the ring. Francis gets to his feet, breathing heavily, and pulls at Fugue--but the musician is holding grimly onto the ropes, and Eddy Long rushes up to get in the Franchise' face. The crowd, for the first time in anyone's memory, cheers Eddy Long as the referee pushes Mak Francis away. Fugue pulls himself up with the ropes, shakes his head to clear it--then looks out at the audience with a feral grin plastered on his face.

"Whoa!" Axis says nervously. "Fugue looks like he's just getting started!"

"I tell you, the man has a thing about pain," the King notes.

"Raving bloody nutter," Edwin mutters.

Fugue gets to his feet--and spins to stare at his opponent. Francis steps back in surprise, then frowns and charges forward past Eddy Long. The Franchise throws an elbow but Fugue ducks and lands a shot to the gut. Fugue edges toward the corner and wraps his arms around the Franchise' waist--then stomps his feet and hauls Francis upward and back, slamming his back against the turnbuckle! The crowd yells and cheers as Francis' body jerks in pain, hanging upside down by his legs from the top ropes. Fugue aims a kick at Francis' shoulder, drawing another gasp from the fans. Eddy Long runs in to berate Fugue, trying to pull him away from the ringpost. Fugue turns and shoves irritably at the ref--then doubles over as Francis' arm slams between his legs. The crowd roars as Francis slips down and gets shakily to his feet, stalking after Fugue as Eddy Long stares in bewilderment.

"My GOD!" Axis cries. "A Northern Lights suplex into the turnbuckle! I don't think I've EVER seen THAT!"

"But Francis takes control again with the perennial heel equalizer!" The King snickers evilly.

"That little--I'm going to cheer for Fugue now!" Edwin grumps. The camera shows another view of the "NO-SELL THAT!" sign for a moment.

Francis grabs Fugue from behind, locking his arms around the musician's waist. The audience yells in anticipation as Francis sets himself--then hauls Fugue upward and back, slamming him down on his head. Fugue struggles--but Francis keeps the hold locked in, yanking Fugue to his feet again. The intermixed cheers and boos from the crowd are almost deafening as Francis turns around...then hoists Fugue up again, hurling him backward and releasing him to careen across the ring--and slam bodily into Eddy Long.

"INCREDIBLE!" Axis yells. "Francis with a German suplex--chained into a RELEASE GERMAN SUPLEX!"

"That's it, it's gotta be over!" Edwin cries.

"It might be, if there were a ref!" the King counters. "But--wait, what's going on?"

The crowd cheers deafeningly as Francis scrambles over and hooks Fugue's leg into a cover. The fans count along..."ONE...TWO...THREE...FOUR...FIVE..." Francis looks around in confusion, and the sound builds even more--

Then the camera jerks to one side to show a tall figure in black T-shirt and jeans sprinting towards the ring, steel chair in hand. The insane cheers of the crowd redouble AGAIN as he slips into the ring, Mak Francis standing, not seeing him yet--

"IT'S MATT MYERS!!!" Axis screams. "MATT MYERS IS HERE WITH A CHAIR! WHY THE HELL IS HE HERE?!?"

"CRUSH! KILL! DESTROY!" cheers Edwin.

The third sWo member springs to his feet in the ring. Fugue tries to push himself to his feet, Francis finally turns and his eyes widen as--

CRACK!!!

The arena explodes with noise as Matt Myers swings the chair like a major league player, the steel denting on the skull of Mak Francis.

"OH MY GOD!!!" Axis screams again.

"MYERS JUST--THE FRANCHISE--WHAT IN--" the King yells.

Edwin falls over laughing.

The fans go insane as Francis hits the mat hard, holding his head in agony. Matt Myers stares out the audience with an arrogant smirk...then looks down at the fallen Franchise. Myers flips the chair around, holding it by the legs pointing down--then slams it downward, the stiff edge impacting Francis' right shoulder and eliciting a fresh cry of agony from the Franchise. Throwing a contemptuous glance at Fugue, Myers slips out of the ring and jogs up the ramp, casting glances behind to watch the action in the ring.

"MYERS JUST BLASTED MAK FRANCIS WITH TWO CHAIRSHOTS!" Axis yells. "It's gotta be over now!"

"But Francis still has a chance!" Edwin cries. "COME ON, MAK!"

Fugue steps forward and aims a kick at Francis--but the Franchise grabs his leg and pulls, sending the musician tumbling to the mat. Mak Francis pushes himself to the mat, blood streaking his face as he stares at his opponent. He aims a kick at Fugue's gut, then falls down again with an elbow to Fugue's neck. The musician convulses in pain, but pushes himself quickly to his feet.

"Francis STILL has some fight left in him!" Axis cries. "Oh, I can't believe this! These two men are giving everything they have!"

"But for one of them, everything isn't going to be enough!" the King replies. "And I have a feeling I know who!"

Francis sways just a bit on his feet, then raises his arm and brings his elbow down again on Fugue's neck. He spares a glance at Eddy Long and sees that the referee is finally getting to his feet. The Franchise stares down at his opponent, his friend...and reaches down to hook Fugue's leg.

"FRANCIS IS GOING FOR THE FRANCHISE TAG!" Axis yells, and the crowd yells with him in anticipation.

"This is it!" the King cries.

Francis pulls at Fugue--and staggers. He pulls again, but stumbles back a couple of steps. Fugue wriggles free of the leg hold and lunges forward with a knee--then grabs Francis' right arm and slips behind him, wrenching it upward in a hammerlock.

"NO!" Axis cries apoplectically. "HE COULDN'T GET IT!"

"Francis has taken too much damage to that arm!" the King says. "I knew it! This one's over!"

Fugue pulls relentlessly at the arm, and Francis staggers forward to the ropes. Eddy Long rushes in to yell at Fugue, and Fugue releases the hold with a smile. He steps back into the middle of the ring...and stands there, waiting.

"Oh no, what's this?" Axis asks. "Fugue is waiting for Francis??"

"It's a gesture of respect!" Edwin replies.

"It's a gesture of arrogance!" the King counters.

Francis steadies himself on his feet...then turns to look at his opponent. He wipes his hand across his face, looks down to see the blood, then sets his expression grimly. A huge upswell of noise builds from the audience as Francis walks toward the center of the ring.

"This is incredible!" Axis says. "I can't help but think these men have great respect for each other!"

"Well, he's taking his loss like a man!" the King comments.

Francis stops, facing the musician...then lashes out with a forearm. The crowd explodes as it connects, sending Fugue reeling, and Francis lunges forward--but Fugue slips under and dodges behind, leaping up to grab the Franchise' arms and wrap his own around them, locking his hands behind the struggling Francis' back.

"Oh my God! A DOUBLE CHICKENWING!" Axis yells as the crowd screams in anticipation.

"And we know what THAT means!" the King yells over the noise.

Fugue pulls the hold tight--then leaps backward, pulling Francis down hard onto the mat as he lands on his knees. Then the musician gets one leg up and pushes off, flipping completely over in a somersault and landing in a perfect bridge.

"THE CODA AND HARMONY!" Axis screams. "FUGUE HAS FRANCIS IN HARMONY!"

"FUGUE IS TEARING AT THAT INJURED ARM!" the King yells.

"BUT FUGUE'S NECK HAS GOTTA BE HURTING TOO!" Edwin cries.

Eddy Long kneels down and yells desperately at Francis, trying to make himself heard over the enormous din. Francis shakes his head, crying out but still refusing, Fugue's scraggly hair tangled against the sticky blood on his face. Fugue stares up at the lights, all semblance of sanity gone from his expression as he is lost in a world of pain...

"THIS IS INHUMAN!" Axis yells. "FRANCIS HAS NEVER TAPPED! BUT HE'S GOT TO!"

"OR FUGUE HAS TO!" Edwin cries.

Francis' body twitches slightly. His eyes close and his body slumps in defeat. Fugue's form shakes with muscle tension--one of his feet slips and he scrabbles at the mat before getting it back into position. Eddy Long yells at Francis some more then, receiving no response, raises one of his arms...and lets it fall.

ONE!

"Is Francis going to submit?" Axis cries.

"He can't!" Edwin yells. "His pride won't let him!"

"It doesn't matter!" the King yells. "He's gone anyway!"

Eddy Long raises the hand again...it falls.

TWO! The crowd chants along with him.

"Is this it?" Axis says. "Is this how it ENDS?"

Eddy Long takes Francis' hand one more time, and lets it fall...limply.

He signals the timekeeper.

DINGINGING!

A shudder passes through Fugue's body, and he falls, jerking his arms free. Francis falls backward, insensate. Funyon slides into the ring to do his job.

"YOUR WINNER," he booms over the noise of the crowd, "...FUUUUUUUGUE!" The referee raises Fugue's arm, then lets it go. It falls limply down.

"...my God, what an ending," Axis says. He takes a hand towel from the table and wipes his forehead, breathing heavily. "What an ending...to this incredible match, and this great show!"

"It was good for me. Was it good for you?" the King asks, leaning back in his chair.

Edwin shakes his head. "That was...very intense, wasn't it?"

Fugue finally stumbles to his feet, leaning heavily on the ropes. He blinks out at the audience, who greet him with a mixture of boos and cheers. He turns back...looking at the Franchise, still lying by a red stain on the mat, being tended to by a crew of referees. The smile returns to Fugue's face, and he slips under the ropes, starting the long walk back up the ramp.

"So now we know that the other participant in the #1 Contendership Match will be Fugue!" Axis narrates. "Thanks for watching, everybody! For the Smarks Junior Leagues, this is Axis, Edwin and the King saying goodnight!"

"Goodnight!" says Edwin.

"Go away!" says the King.

"Close enough."

Fade to SJL logo, then black.

September 11, 2002

Summary!

Singles Match

Judge Mental vs. Cutthroat

WINNER: Judge Mental (Default)

Battle Royal for the #1 Contendership to the European Title

Leon Sharpe vs. Blank vs. Tim Dillon vs. Jack The Ripper

WINNER: Leon Sharpe

-Tag Team Match

C.I.A./Thor vs. sWo (“Hollywood” Spike Jenkins/Matt Myers)

WINNER: sWo (Default)

World Title Contender’s Match #1

Steel Pipe Ladder Match

Jacob Helmsley vs. Mike Van Silcen

WINNER: Mike Van Siclen

No-DQ Singles Match

Flexxx vs. Manson

WINNER: Flexxx

MAIN EVENT

World Title #1 Contender’s Match

Fugue vs. Mak Francis

WINNER: Fugue (default)

SWF Wrath (September 10, 2002)

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