SWF Smarkdown (Sept. 23/2002)

September 24, 2002

The camera sweeps over the upper decks of the TD Waterhouse Center, covering the screaming masses as Smarkdown! is ready to kick off!

"Just one week away from the Grand Daddy of 'em all!" shouts Mark, over the roar of the crowd. "Genesis Three comes to you live, this Sunday, only on Pay Per View!"

"I'm so excited, Mark, I... I just... Damn it, I'm downright giddy!"

"... thanks... for that..."

"Anyti-"

Suddenly, the house lights are cut off, and "The Grudge" pounds out over the sound system, and the fans are none too happy at this sour start to their show! A torrent of jeers rain down towards the stage as the curtain is flung aside, and Chris Raynor storms right across the stage and down the ramp, and-

"-what the hell is he doing here?" Mark asks, half yelling. "Raynor's not booked to fight-"

"You just answered your own question, Steve-o."

Raynor rolls into the ring and pops to his feet, smoke practically pouring out of his ears. He stomps across to the other side of the ring and leans over the ropes, and after much verbal abuse he procures Funyon's microphone. "The Grudge" quickly fades into nothingness, revealing a quiet but growing...

"RAY-NOR SUCKS!"

Raynor begins pacing around the ring, bringing the mic up several times and dropping it back down as he thinks some more... finally he stops, facing the ramp, and speaks...

"Two weeks ago... I was fighting Chris Wilson... two weeks ago, I was fighting the World Heavyweight Champion... and now-"

Raynor's face turns sour, and he puts the mic down for a moment... it suddenly flies back up, and his free hand goes flailing up!

"And in TWO WEEKS, I go from being on the verge of breaking through - being this close, THIS CLOSE, to getting what's rightfully mine, aaaaall the way down to Curtain-jerking Storm with Ced FUCKING Ordonez-"

WHOOOOOOOO! A large pop from the audience, and Raynor has to pause for a moment.

"... and tonight... I'm NOT EVEN FUCKING BOOKED!"

WHOOOOOOOOOOO!

"I've never heard a happier crowd!" says Mark, and he tries not to yelp as he gets elbowed in the ribs.

"Two weeks ago I've got Wilson down for the count! Two weeks ago I'm within seconds of beating El Luchadore Magnifico... and now, I'm- I'm, I'm opening the shows with pieces of trash who don't deserve to be competing with someone like me-"

"BOOOOOOOO!"

"-and tonight, I'm not even wrestling?! Wha... I mean... you just... y... What the FUCK!?"

Raynor kicks the ropes violently, and goes off circling the ring again.

"And I know what you're all thinking, oh sure, it's just one show, you'll get back, we believe in you Raynor-"

Mark can't help but scoff. "I don't think that's what the crowd is saying..."

"-but it's not, and I can prove it!" Raynor pauses, peeking out of the corners of his eyes at the audience... "Edwin MacPhisto-"

"Here we go," says Mark, rolling his eyes.

"Edwin Mac-FUCKING-Phisto... he- he... you saw him! I was too close to getting my match with him, to earning what I've had coming for more than a YEAR, so he comes down to ringside and knocks me out cold with a chair! I've got a hole in my head and a mild concussion, and three days later I'm booked against the goddamned World Champion! You think Edwin DIDN'T have anything to do with that?!"

"Yea," Raynor continues, speeding up, "you don't think my getting an injury that would sideline a normal guy happening three days before the biggest match of my life was a COINCIDENCE, do you?!"

“Edwin KNOWS I’m better than him! I beat Silent - the man HE’S scared to face! What the hell makes you people think that I couldn’t do the same to your precious MacPhisto? Your precious -“ Raynor kicks at the ropes - “Politicking -“ Raynor kicks at the ropes again - “Backstabbing -“ Once more, for good luck, he kicks them - “MACPHISTO!”

"Preach it, brotha' Raynor!" Riley cries, rallying the dozens and... well, the two Raynor fans in attendance.

A murmur runs through the crowd, more a "How long is this gonna last," murmer than anything else...

"Stubby!"

All eyes snap back to Raynor.

"... I am getting a shot at Edwin at Genesis... WHETHER YOU BOOK IT OR NOT!"

A horrendously loud pop from the crowd!

"If you won't book the damn match, then I'll just beat the fuck out of him Sunday anyway. You can choose to at least sell some Pay Per View's on the deal, or you can choose to have one of your top draws torn to pieces backstage before the show even starts, Stubby - it's up to you!"

"I said Hallelujah, to the sixteen loyal fans-ah!"

RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH!

"I think we're about to get our answer!" Mark shouts, on the edge of his seat. Riley sits beside him, wringing his hands and cackling gleefully.

A smidgen of fog spits up from the stage, and the dark silhouette of either a very rectangular person or a guy in a trenchcoat stands darkened in the shadows for but a moment, then steps out to reveal himself - Edwin MacPhisto! Raynor stops pacing in the ring and just stands perfectly still in the center of it, as Edwin takes a long, deep pause at center-stage, microphone in hand. It's a good long while before the crowd quiets down...

"Raynor, I would like nothing more than to face you this Sunday-"

RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH!

Edwin smiles from the corner of his mouth, looking out at the fans...

"... but like you said, chances are you've pissed off Creative Control so much they're not going to give you the shot... we could show up early..." Edwin begins to stroll down the ramp. "... set up the ring ourselves... hire us our own personal referee... give the early-birds quite a show..."

It's Raynor's turn to smirk now, and he cuts Edwin off.

"No no, Mac Daddy... that's not... quite... what I had in mind..."

Edwin raises an eyebrow, and continues down the ramp, having almost reached ringside now, as Raynor continues...

"... because I was thinking... we don't really NEED a ring, for this match..."

Mark and Riley turn to each other and simultaneously say: "Uh oh."

"Sure, it would have to start there, but... I was thinking, Edwin, more along the lines of a... well, a match we've both made names for ourselves in..."

Raynor pauses a moment to milk the crowd, as Edwin stops just at the ring apron...

"I was thinking more along the lines of the match that skyrocketed both of our careers... the match where we BOTH... won our respective world titles..."

"Riley, tell me he's not-"

"I think he is!"

"The match where I won my Minor League World Title... the match where you won your World Title... and the match where I will finally prove that I AM BETTER THAN YOU... Edwin, I want you in LAST... MAN... STANDING!"

Mark and Riley are absolutely silent as Edwin looks down, nodding slightly... then rolls into the ring and pops to his feet. With a look like he had expected that very thing, Edwin slowly steps forward to face Raynor... gets face to face with him... brings the mic up...

"... Raynor... I wouldn't have it any other way."

Mark shills like a madman but no one can hear him, as the TD Waterhouse Center goes absolutely fucking NUTS! Raynor smirks again as Edwin waits for the crowd... his crowd... to quiet down. When they do, Raynor is the first to speak...

"Then I have one more request of you Edwin..."

"And what is that, dear Christopher?"

"... bring everything you've got."

Riley pulls out his Cliche Bingo Card and prepares to check it off, but Raynor continues...

"I want you to put everything... every drop of sweat, every ounce of blood, every fucking fiber of your being into this match...

... but not because I want a challenge..."

Raynor now leans forward, breathing down Edwin's neck.

"I want you to bring every god damned thing you've got, because I know..."

He inches closer...

"... and you know..."

Closer.

"... that it's... not... enough... and it's time these people learned what a hideous fraud you are..."

If boos could kill, Raynor would be reduced to a pile of mush, as there's not a fan in the arena who's not jeering their hearts out at that comment. Raynor keeps his head forward, but looks out at them from the corners of his eyes...

"I had your arch-nemisis Chris Wilson... beat...

I had the World Heavyweight Champion... BEAT...

... I have beaten the man you fear more than anything else... Silent... right in the middle of this ring... CLEAN."

Raynor now takes a step back, fully confident in himself.

"So Edwin," he begins to wind down, "I want you to bring it all... every cleverly named move... every finished you've run through... every trick up your sleeve, every dirty trick in the book... beca-"

The arena’s lights are abruptly cut off, and the spotlights near the entrance ramp begin to flicker rapidly, creating a blurred effect! Spineshank's "Detached" hits the sound system, and-

"It looks like someone ELSE has taken offense to Raynor's ranting!"

"Bah!" Riley intelligently counters. "I'll bet he's out here to help Raynor rid us all of the plague that is Edwin MacPhisto!"

White fog billows out from behind the curtains, along with Silent, trademark cane in hand and a none-too-pleasant look on his face. The Slaughterer stalks down the ramp, his eyes piercing a hole right into Raynor's. He wastes no time in getting to the ring, either not hearing or wholly ignoring the crowd, and he is quickly handed a microphone from outside the ring.

"... you... beat me?"

"Yea," Raynor starts again, "That's right. I beat you. I beat you rig-"

Silent holds up his hand, and Raynor stops.

"... I let... you beat me."

Raynor opens his mouth to rebut…but Silent cuts him off. “Don’t make the mistake of thinking you were EVER in control when you stepped in the ring with me, Christopher. Did you honestly think I just…woke up after you, ah…’choked’ me out?” The Slaughterer chuckles. “I allowed you -graciously allowed you- to win that match…so I could beat the everlasting hell out of you afterwards. You…DO…remember that part, don’t you, Chris?”

As he speaks to Raynor, the Silent One slowly turns to face Edwin. “You remember every single strike of the cane, don’t you? Do you remember the pain that shot up your arm as I pulled you off the turnbuckle and into that shoulderbreaker? Do you remember the blood running down your face as I tied you to the ropes?”

Silent walks slowly, deliberately, towards MacPhisto, who holds his ground…but seems to tense ever so slightly. The buzz of the crowd grows louder as the fans anticipate a confrontation between the two men.

“I’m sure you remember that, Raynor. I’m sure you remember when Zenon came sprinting to your rescue. You remember when he untied you, you remember how he helped you back to the locker room, like a true friend is supposed to do…”

Silent smiles cunningly at MacPhisto.

“And I’m positive…you remember…who didn’t.”

The Slaughterer and the Crown Prince stand nose-to-nose with each other for a long moment…

…before Raynor drops Edwin to the mat with a surprise reverse DDT!

The crowd boos and hisses as Raynor stomps away on MacPhisto, and Silent stands by approvingly. Raynor looks over at the Silent One as he drives a particularly sharp boot into Edwin’s ribs.

Silent hands his cane to Chris Raynor.

FWOOOOOOOOSH! THUNK!

“Somebody needs to get out here; this is turning into a - wait a minute! Is that... that's Thoth!!!”

Silent and Raynor, standing with their backs to the Smarkstron, don’t see Thoth come in through the crowd and out to the floor. Raynor pulls the cane back for another strike…

**CRACK!**

And gets floored by a roundhouse kick from behind! Raynor rolls out of the ring, gingerly holding the back of his head, and Silent, only momentarily distracted by the Balancer’s appearance, scoops his cane up from the mat and takes a swing at the returning Thoth, who ducks it…

**SLAP!**

And sends the Slaughterer backwards and out of the ring with an uppercut palm strike!

“The crowd is on their feet for the returning Thoth…I can’t say I expected him to be up and about in time for Genesis, Riley!”

Silent lands in a tumble on the outside, his pride more hurt than his body, and his eyes are ablaze as they shoot back up to see Thoth glaring back down at him. Raynor has retreated to the base of the ramp, staring a hole through Edwin. Thoth backs towards MacPhisto, eyes still on Silent, and helps him up to his feet. Edwin is hard pressed to stand on his own, and he goes to the ropes for support, while Thoth takes the microphone.

"I assume, since I'm up and walking, that we're on for Genesis?"

Silent nods slowly, a grin creeping up on his face.

"Good... except...

... I can't wait that long... I want you... tonight..."

RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH!

"And it doesn't look like these two can wait either," Thoth adds, nodding towards Edwin and Raynor. "So what say we have ourselves a little tag team match?"

Raynor's eyes frantically shoot between all three men, knowing full well that NONE of them can be considered allies. Edwin turns and nods meekly to Thoth, while Silent continues to grin on the outside... he snaps his fingers, and is handed a Microphone...

"Is that... what you REALLY want, Yuuichiro?"

"... if it's what I have to do to get my hands around your throat tonight..."

Silent draws a long steady nod, then tosses his microphone aside, and heads around to where Raynor is still waiting, at the base of the ramp. Raynor eyes him warily as he approaches, but the Slaughterer raises his hands in a gesture of... temporary... peace...

"What an announcement!" Mark shouts over the approving cheers from the crowd! "Thoth and Edwin, against Chris Raynor and Silent... TONIGHT!"

"And a week removed from the Pay Per View!" adds Riley. "Thoth and Edwin are absolutely NUTS to be issuing this challenge!"

"It's a double-edged sword, Riley, especially with Raynor and Edwin agreeing to a Last Man Standing match - I can only assume that it will happen regardless of it being officially signed, we'll try to get word on that as the evening goes on... Man oh man - what a way to kick off the show! We've gotta take a quick break, folks, but the action starts when we get back, with Tom Flesher squaring off against Xero for the Light-Heavyweight Title! Stay tuned!"

September 24, 2002

Light-Heavyweight Title Match

Tom Flesher vs. Xero

- The current Light-heavyweight champion has been beating everyone in sight lately…except Tod deKindes, who took the US title off of Flesher last week. He’s also been publicly complaining about the quality of his opponents as of late, too bad he hasn’t been talking to the right people. He’s curtain jerking again, and we’re sure he’s not going to be happy about it. Xero has been teaming with Ash Ketchum and looks to be headed to a show down with the tag champs, Frost and TNT, at Genesis. A win here would give Xero some awesome momentum heading into the PPV, as well as the LHW title to boot. Can he gain his first SWF gold here? How will Flesher react to curtain jerking, since he seems confident about his Superiority? Find out on Monday!

- Word Limit: 3500

- Send to Suicide King

Non-Title Singles Match

Jay Dawg vs. Renegade

- A while ago, JD brutalized Renegade on his way to retaining his hardcore title. Some time has passed and Renegade has picked up some wins, including one over the turncoat, Annie Eclectic, oh Storm. He gets a chance at revenge here against the reigning hardcore god, Jay Dawg!

- Word Limit: 3500

- Send to BA_Baracus

MAIN EVENT

Tag Team Match

Thoth/Edwin MacPhisto vs. Silent/Chris Raynor

- At the top of the show, Raynor challenged Edwin to a match at Genesis…a match that Edwin accepted. However, Silent had to make his presence known, but before he and Raynor could do a number on Edwin, Thoth comes to the rescue…the man set to face Silent at Genesis. This match was made after that altercation! What will happen as these four hostile men step into the ring together? Will they do so much damage to each other that none will be able to make it to their huge matches at Genesis? Oh, what a volatile matchup…TUNE IN MONDAY!!

September 24, 2002

SWF Smarkdown returns from a commercial for Frost Brand Ciqars ("Screw the fundamental irony, just smoke them!") and pans the arena. Fans are shown holding signs like "Jerk That Curtain," "Annie Sucks! Wilson's Cock!" and "Xero Force 9." Finally, it pans to the SmarkTron, which shows the Light Heavyweight Title graphic. Photos of "the Superior One" Tom Flesher on the left and his opponent, Xero, on the right appear, and the words "LHW TITLE - TOM VS. XERO" scroll across the bottom of the screen. The camera cuts to the announce table, where Bobby Riley and Mark Stevens sit.

"Welcome to another exciting edition of SWF Smarkdown," bellows Mark Stevens as the crowd works their standard "GRAND SLAM! GRAND SLAM!" chant. "We've got a lot of action ahead, so here we go!"

The arena lights go down, and the familiar drumbeat of "Trust" by Megadeth starts to blare out over the arena PA. A mild cheer meets the drum, which crescendos as red and white strobes flash in the arena. Half a minute later, as a burst of fire emanates from the stage, Xero pulls the curtain aside and comes out flexing.

"Ladies and gentlemen," says Funyon, "this opening constest is scheduled for one fall, and it is for the SWF Light Heavyweight Championship! The challenger, currently making his way to the ring, weighs in at 210 pounds, and he hails from that godforsaken tundra known as Port Colborne, Ontario, dramatic pause, Canada!"

("Uh, Mark, did he just SAY dramatic pause?"

"Hush.")

"He is the King of the DDT, ladies and gentlemen, XERO!!!!!!!"

Xero struts down to the ring wearing his standard martial arts pants along with a matching vest. He slides into the ring and mounts the top turnbuckle, raising both his arms in the air and letting out a yell to the fans that they answer with a brief pop.

"Xero's been quite active, mainly in the tag team division," notes Mark Stevens. "And with Ash Ketchum back in the locker room tonight, you have to wonder what's going to happen."

"Oh god... Ash is back? Christ. And here I was hoping I could live out the rest of my career in peace."

"Oh, you're just mad that he started the whole Bobbi-with-an-I thing."

The lights stay down, with the red and white strobe lights replaced with blue columns of pyro spraying out next to the velvet curtain. After about fifteen seconds, the columns burst into a blue explosion that lights up the stage. When the smoke clears, Tom Flesher stands on the stage, head cocked to the side, hand holding his chin thoughtfully. The fans respond by showering him with boos, and with that he promptly falls out of his position and begins to stride to the ring with his Light Heavyweight Title strapped around his waist.

"And his opponent..."

Flesher slides into the ring and immediately grabs the microphone. "Easy, there, you damn snack treat. The fans don't want to hear you jabber. They're here to see me, 213 pounds of superiority, the main attraction, the man of action. Am I right?"

Predictable response.

"But folks, I just thought I'd share something absolutely adorable. You see, rumors around the locker room seem to have me as... hmm... how to put this... unpopular with the under-thirteen demographic. Well, that's certainly not something we can allow, so I did some looking around, and here's what I found. Maria? Maria, come on out here."

The camera cuts over to the entrance, where a doe-eyed, Hispanic seven-year-old girl skips merrily down the ramp and toward the ring.

"You see, fans, Maria here is innocent. She's not a smark. She can enjoy wrestling for what it truly is. Am I right, honey?"

"Uh huh. Lots of punk-asses getting dropped on their heads!"

"Awww... isn't she just adorable? But Maria, sweetie, what did we say about 'punk-asses?'"

Maria sighs in an exaggerated manner. "I'm sorry, Mr. Tom. They're not punk-asses, you're just better than them."

"Adorable AND smart. So Maria, tell me, how do you spell 'Hero?'"

"Hero. T-O-M-F-L-E-S-H-E-R. Hero."

The fans begin to boo, tiring of the sketch after barely a minute.

"And Maria, how do you spell 'jobber?'"

"Jobber. X-E-R-O. Jobber."

"What a smart little girl," gushes Riley.

"Okay, Maria, babe. Thanks for coming out to help me tell these people the truth."

"No problem, Mr. Tom. I'm gonna go see my daddy now."

"Okay, sweetie. Tell Magnifico I said hi."

Maria skips out of the ring, and as soon as she's out of the line of fire, Flesher gets hit with no less than three empty beer cups, which he no-sells in the name of removing his strap. He hands it off to referee Mike Soapdish, who holds it aloft before giving it to Funyon and calling for the bell.

DING DING DING!!!!

"Can you believe that tripe?" asks Stevens, still not sure whether the opening sketch was a cruel joke or a hallucination.

"I know! That's not how you spell 'jobber!'"

Flesher and Xero lock up, with Flesher grabbing Xero's arm and yanking him for what appears to be a short-arm palm strike. Xero ducks the strike, however, and grabs that arm to counter it with a Fujiwara armbar takedown. Flesher, a bit surprised, reacts by forcing the action back to a standing position. With the torque on his arm thus reduced, he does a quick forward roll and pulls Xero over in a modified arm drag. Rather than follow up with an arm submission, Flesher releases Xero and returns to the center of the ring.

"See, this is why everyone loves Flesher. He's not only popular, he's not only a great wrestler, but he's good with kids."

"That little girl who slapped him a few weeks ago wouldn't agree with that, I'd venture."

"Oh, she was just crabby because Tom was losing. She wanted to fire him back up."

Stevens rolls his eyes as Flesher and Xero lock up once more. Flesher quickly lowers his level and pulls Xero over his body, taking him down with a standard duck-under. Flesher follows him down with a waistlock and switches off to a gutwrench, then stands back up. "My god," says Stevens, "is he going for the Ego Buster already?!"

Xero sees it coming and counters the throw by grabbing Flesher's leg. He stops the throw and spins around, getting back to his feet and lifting the leg off the ground. Flesher panics briefly and forces his leg down. When Xero tries to lift it up again, Flesher stiffs him with a palm strike and ensures that he'll be free to stand on both legs.

"What a stiff strike!" says Grand Slam. Riley only nods and murmurs approvingly.

With Xero thus stunned, Flesher grabs him in a bearhug and lifts him slightly off the ground. He then arches his back and throws Xero powerfully, sending him overhead with a Railgun suplex! Xero crashes to the mat with a loud THUD, and Flesher covers him for

ONE!

NO! Xero kicks out, despite having the wind knocked out of him. Flesher stays on top, spinning around and grabbing Xero's left leg.

"Flesher's just DESTROYING Xero!"

"Come on, Bobby, the match has barely started! How can you say something like that?"

"Well, all you're doing is delaying the inevitable."

Flesher grabs the leg and lifts it up, bending it back painfully to force it into a single-leg crab hold. With Xero's back out of joint, Flesher simply sits back to enjoy the ride.

"Look at the angle of Xero's back!" shouts Riley.

"I'll admit, Flesher's taking advantage of his edge in the strength department. He just better hope and pray that Xero doesn't get the opportunity to use his speed, because he has it ALL over Flesher there."

Flesher continues to wrench Xero's back, but after a few moments he realizes he's not going to get the submission, so he voluntarily releases the hold. He spins around again and locks his hands around Xero's waist. With a light grunt of exertion, Flesher lifts Xero to his feet in position for a German suplex. Xero feels it coming and hits a standing switch, ending up behind Flesher. Flesher, well-versed in the mechanics of the German, hits a switch of his own. Desperately, Xero spins behind for yet another switch, and he backs into the ropes. Soapdish waves both men back to the center of the ring.

"We're seeing a surprisingly grounded battle from these two," says Stevens. "That generally works to Flesher's advantage, but we've seen Xero do amazing mat work in the past."

"You mean all those times that Flesher beat him? Or all those other matches that he lost?"

"Er... touche."

Flesher moves to lock up with Xero, but the Port Colborne native opts instead to simply go for the "I'll kick you in the teeth" method of offense. He catches Flesher by surprise, and when the Light Heavyweight Champion stumbles backwards, Xero throws a spinning heel kick the sends Flesher to the ropes. Flesher tries to move back to the center, but a third kick to the face stuns him beyond repair and gives Xero the opportunity to whip him to the opposite ropes. As Flesher rebounds, Xero nails him with a superkick that takes him to the mat! Soapdish counts

ONE!

TWO- NO! Kickout by the champion, and Xero stays on top. He goes for a Fujiwara armbar, but Flesher quickly withdraws his arm in favor of the "curl into a ball" defense.

"What a stunning strategic gambit!" declares Riley.

"Bobby, he's just avoiding contact."

"And how!"

Xero stands up and, contemplating various ways to combat the non-wrestling strategy, opts simply to kick Flesher stiffly in the back. After Xero plants the toe of his boot in the small of his back, Flesher stretches out, but manages to roll away before Xero can land another kick. He pulls himself to his feet and gives Xero a quick once-over before cracking his neck.

"Flesher may have met his match here!"

"But Mark," Riley says patronizingly, "the match has barely even started!"

"On any given day, anyone can take down another worker, Bobby."

"Uh-uh, no way, not Flesher. Flesher's FAR superior to anyone in this fed, especially a curtain-jerker like Xero."

"Keep in mind that Flesher's become quite friendly with the curtain himself lately."

"That's just because he's being held down!"

The fans see Flesher getting his morale back and start a chant of "CURTAIN JERKER! *clap clap clapclapclap* CURTAIN JERKER! *clap clap clapclapclap*" When Flesher hears that, the look on his face turns from his standard grin to an expression of sheer rage. He charges at Xero and grabs him by the head. Before Xero can defend himself, Flesher hits him with a vicious palm strike that sends him reeling. With that, Tom spins his opponent around and unloads a straight-legged kick to the small of Xero's back. Xero grabs his back, but Flesher brushes the hands away and slams his Doc Marten into Xero's back again. Finally, Flesher grabs Xero in a waistlock and arches backwards, slamming Xero onto his tender back with a released German suplex! Flesher looks back, sees Xero on his back, and starts a quick golf clap for himself. This prompts the fans to burst into their "YOU SUCK DICK! YOU SUCK DICK!" chant.

"I DO NOT!" shouts Riley.

"Uh... Bobby...?"

"What? This is plain discrimination! I have done NOTHING to deserve these chants!"

"Bobby, they're mocking TOM."

Riley looks confused. "Why the hell would they make fun of FLESHER? He's superior! They should love him!"

"The way you love him?"

"Absolutely!"

Flesher grabs Xero and pulls him back to his feet, where he whips the Port Colborne native into the ropes. When Xero rebounds, Flesher catches him and tosses him overhead, slaming him with another textbook Railgun suplex! Xero hits the mat hard and arches up, grabbing his back and writhing in pain.

"It looks like the untimely end of Xero!" giggles Riley in an unusually girlish manner.

"Oh, you and your obsession with ends."

But wait a minute! The fans slowly start to turn toward the entrance, and when they see who's standing there, they burst into cheers.

"ASH KETCHUM! Ash Ketchum is on his way out to the ring to encourage his tag team partner!"

"Oh, christ. Jesus H. Christ."

Ash jogs down the ramp and takes a position on the apron, ponding the mat and encouraging Xero. Flesher looks over to Ash and summarily rejects him by spitting in his general direction. Ash ignores Flesher's insult, and Xero starts to push himself to his feet. Flesher helps Xero by grabbing his head and yanking him up. Cockily, he sets Xero up for a solid palm strike...

BUT XERO NAILS HIM WITH A KICK TO THE JAW! Flesher grabs his jaw painfully. Xero slams his foot into Flesher's stomach, doubling him over, and immediately flows into a DDT! Flesher lands flat on his back and Xero floats over. Soapdish counts

ONE!

TWO- NO!!! Flesher kicks out and rolls away! Xero follows him over, but before he can land a blow, Flesher pulls himself up on the ropes. Xero throws a kick, but Flesher catches the leg! He spins the off-balanced Xero around and slams him in the back with a stiff kick! Xero winces, and Flesher throws another kick into the small of his back... and another... and another... and another! Finally, Flesher just shoves Xero callously to the mat and covers him for

ONE!

TWO!

KICKOUT! Xero rolls over, and as Ash beats the canvas, he starts to get back to his feet. Suddenly, the fans begin to boo. Everyone turns their heads toward the entranceway, where Frost and Taylor Nicholas Thompson stand! The Tag Team Champions begin a slow stride to the ring, and Flesher merely smirks and leans on the corner.

"What the hell are Frost and TNT doing down here?"

"Chilly Chilly Bang Bang, baby!"

"These two members of the Magnificent Seven have no business being at ringside!"

"Oh, and Ass Ketchup does?"

"Ash is here to support his tag team partner!"

"Huh? I couldn't hear you, my headset went out."

Stevens sighs deeply as the Tag Team Champions take their spot by the ring apron. Flesher and Xero grapple loosely for a moment or two before it becomes evident that both men are more concerned with what's going on on the outside.

On the floor, TNT grabs Ketchum from behind and forcefully turns him around, slamming him into Frost as the Iceman from Iceland executed a spinning back fist that catches Ash flush in the temple! Ash veritably collapses to the cement, but Thompson holds him up and throws him into Frost's arms for a uranage. Frost lifts the PokeFreak up, then slams him onto the concrete!

"Ice Shelf! Frost just hit the Ice Shelf on Ash, on the outside!" Stevens is shocked, stunned and sickened.

"Good! Now I don't have to deal with him!"

Their attack on their nemesis completed, Chilly Chilly Bang Bang turn and casually stroll toward the back. Xero looks down to the floor, concerned about his partner's condition...

AND FLESHER GRABS HIM AND THROWS HIM ONTO HIS NECK WITH A BACKDROP DRIVER!!!!!! Bobby Riley yells, "BONG~!" as Xero lands painfully. The fans burst into a chorus of boos, and Taylor Nicholas Thompson turns around just long enough to salute Tom with a "WATCH HIM EXPLOOOOODE!!!!!" Tiis prompts an "ASSHOLE, ASSHOLE" chant from the crowd. Flesher lays down arrogantly on Xero, and Mike Soapdish counts

ONE!

TWO!

THR- NO!!! Flesher pulls Xero up out of the pinning situation! Tom looks down at Xero and says, "You're not getting off THAT easy." He yanks the Canadian's shoulders up off the mat and, above Mike Soapdish's admonitions, whips Xero to the ropes. The groggy Xero rebounds...

AND NAILS FLESHER WITH A LEG LARIAT! Flesher staggers backwards, and Xero follows that up by charging to the opposite ropes and leaping toward Flesher, hitting a picture-perfect hurricanrana! He hooks the legs on the way down, and Soapdish counts

ONE!

TWO!

THR- NO!!!!!!!!! "Tom Flesher narrowly avoids an upset loss to Xero," says Stevens. "I can't believe what a fight the Canadian luchadore is putting up!"

"It must be the body odor. I'm sure Flesher doesn't want to get anywhere NEAR him."

Flesher rolls away, but Xero stays on him like white on rice. Xero yanks the arm out into position for a Fujiwara armbar... then threads it through and locks his legs around Flesher's neck and shoulder in a headscissors leglock submission!

"Where does he get off using Flesher's own triangle choke?!" Riley is livid. "Why, Flesher's been using that since..."

"Bobby, it's one of the most common moves in Japan and in no holds barred fighting. It immobilizes the arm at the same time as it cuts off the air supply! The only problem is..."

"Xero fucked up! It's Tom's hold all the way, and he knows every counter!"

Flesher leans forward in the triangle choke, loosening the grip, rather than pulling backwards and inadvertantly tightening it. Then, he grabs Xero's neck with his free right hand, squats and lifts his opponent into the air, then slams him to the mat with a knee-drop powerbomb! Xero breaks the hold and clutches his back as Flesher shakes off the effects of the hold.

"And Flesher used the textbook counter to the..."

"Bobby, that was HARDLY a textbook counter."

"Yeah, but Fujita did it once, so it MUST be right."

Flesher yanks Zero to his feet and whips him to the ropes again, this time slamming his head with a Yakuza kick. He pulls the fallen Xero back up, locks on a bear hug, and throws him in a third Railgun suplex! Xero's back slams into the mat, making a sickening splat. When Xero instinctively rolls over, Tom mounts his back and throws in a double grapevine to keep the challenger grounded. Then, he locks his right arm under Xero's chin, securing the Dragon Sleeper!

"Superior Stretch Beta! Flesher has locked on Superior Stretch Beta!"

Riley chimes in with, "It's only a matter of time!"

Sure enough, almost as soon as Flesher cinches in the Superior Stretch Beta, Xero begins to tap violently, and Mike Soapdish calls fob the bell.

DING DING DING!!!!!!

After holding the submission for an extra few seconds, Flesher releases Xero from his clutches and assumes an arrogant pose in the center. When Soapdish brings the Light Heavyweight belt, Flesher snatches it and holds it high as he raises his other arm in victory. Funyon announces, "Your winner and STILL SWF Light Heavyweight Champion, 'The Superior One' Tom Flesher!"

Flesher looks head on at the camera, and then points to Xero. "This," he says, "is what happens when I jerk the curtain. You send him out... he gets destroyed. Why? Because the fans deserve to see me main eventing... and I love them as much as they love me... maybe more."

Fade to commercial.

September 24, 2002

The camera fades back in from commercial to focus on Ben Hardy standing next to a stern and grizzled looking Frost in the locker room area. Frost is in street clothes, being that he is not on the card tonight, with a cigar clenched tightly in his teeth. Smoke rings his head like a dirty halo as Hardy notices the red light on the camera and brings the microphone up to speak.

“Back here on Smarkdown, I’m standing with one half of the Tag Team Champions, Frost.” Boos can be heard in the background from the crowd in the arena. Frost scoffs with pride at the reaction his name alone gets. Hardy turns his head up to look at the towering man. “Word is that Ash Ketchum is looking to cash in on his promised tag title match finally at Genesis this coming Sunday. Not only that, but he and Xero are challenging you and TNT to a tornado tag.”

Hardy lifts the mic up toward Frost and he removes the cigar from his lips to ash on Ben’s shoes. Hardy looks down at the floor with silent loathing. “I remember giving Ketchum a title shot if he beat me in a single’s match, but I don’t remember letting him choose the stipulation. However, it matters little to Thompson and I. We locked Xero in a dumpster last month, we’ll send he and Ketchum out with the trash again this month. Nothing scares the Magnificent 7; no stipulation can shake the greatest tag team the SWF has ever known. But as the old saying goes, Ash…” Frost holds his smoldering cigar up to the camera gives it a slight flick to send ash spiraling down to the floor, “be careful what you ask for, because you just might get it. This Sunday at Genesis be careful that the tornado doesn’t blow you away.”

Frost raises his left hand, palm up in front of the camera. He brings his cigar around with a flourish in his right hand and slowly grinds it out in his palm. The fans gasp out in the auditorium as the center of Frost’s palm festers and turns black from the scalding hot fireball at the tip of the cigar. The camera zooms in on Frost’s focused, unflinching gaze and fades to black...

September 24, 2002

The abbreviated version of Smarkdown’s music fades and is promptly replaced by "Get To The Gone" by Static-X. The crowd is on their feet shortly after and applauding for one of their favorite XF9’ers. Renegade steps through the curtains and looks at the ground… the crowd quiets down just before he lifts his head up and gives out a self high five which triggers a massive pop.

Stevens: “Welcome back to Storm folks! Right now we are about to have a battle that is guaranteed to be good!”

Riley: “Renegade who picked up a big win over Annie Eclectic on Storm is about to go one on one with the great one! Jay Dawg!”

Stevens: “Stop stealing our competition’s lines.”

Riley: “Bah. Renegade is about to get his head kicked in! Better?”

Stevens: “Yes… the last time these two met… well it ended with Jay Dawg disabling Renegade’s shoulder then going on to make his leader, LDP, tap out to the Dawg Trap.”

Funyon: “The following is a non title singles match! Introducing first… from New York city! He stands at Six feet Six inches and weighs in at 260 pounds! A member of the X-Force-9… RENEGADE!!”

Renegade slides into the ring and immediately heads to the corner, climbing to the second turnbuckle and once more the crowd slows down… Renegade lifts his arms and the crowd holds their breaths… and slams them down to do another self-high five to which the crowd hardcore marks out for.

Stevens: “A great ovation for this powerful youngster.”

Renegade slowly stretches in the ropes and lightly limbers his legs up when above him, multiple fireworks explode. The hundred to thousands of tiny but loud pyros go off and within moments of their demise, two gigantic explosives go off by the entrance ramp, the camera catches a shot at the fireballs as people in the crowd turn their head’s back from the blinding power of the fire. The lights go out leaving only the smoke...

"THIS

IS

MAH

HOUSE!!"

Jay Dawg’s voice is quick enough to turn the positive reaction straight into negative as his words echo through the arena. Rammstein's "Du Haste" plays over the speakers without the lyrics and the crowd listens in awe as the heavy beats thunder 360 degrees all around the perimeter. JD steps through the curtains, his head down and title fastened around his waist. He walks to the top of the ramp, slowly raising his head. A wifebeater is over his chest but under the title, he takes a look toward Renegade and lowers his head again, although a smile without good intentions is now plastered on his face.

Funyon: “and his opponent… he hails from Vancouver BC. He stands at Six feet Four inches and weighs in at 250 pounds! A member of the Creative Control and the SWF hardcore champion…. Jamie ‘Jay Dawg’ Drazon!”

At ringside JD snaps his head up and once more looks at Renegade. He rolls into the ring, and unbuckles the title off his waist and lets it drop into the corner. He places his hands on his thighs, and slowly cricks his neck. Then steps into the corner, and rests on the turnbuckles. The beater still over his chest, he scratches the small stubbles of hair on his chin while looking at Renegade, a small smile over his face as he studies the renegade master.

Stevens: “This will be a good match… and Renegade has as good of chance as any… especially since it is regular rules!”

Riley: “These two will probably use weapons anyway!”

The two step into the center of the ring and a slugfest quickly starts up. The right hand is the weapon of choice for both men as they clobber each other with fists, the slugging power may hurt but neither loses a step. Finally Renegade blocks one of Jay Dawg’s shots and hits him again. Jay Dawg staggers back a step but swings, only for Renegade to block once more and hit JD. Renegade grabs Jay Dawg’s wrist and an Irish whip follows. JD reverses the whip and sends Renegade into the ropes.

Riley: “Go Jay Dawg!”

Jay Dawg steps right up for a clothesline but Renegade ducks with ease. Jay Dawg pivots around to see Renegade stop short and hit him with another right hand. Jay Dawg fires back with an even harder right hand but Renegade ducks under and hooks his arm under Jay Dawg’s neck and drops to the mat with a neckbreaker. Renegade sits right up and drops his arm over Jay Dawg’s chest … but JD scissorlocks it with his leg, hooking the arm. Ignoring the crossarm scissors, JD weighs the arm down and places lies over Renegade. But the larger man hooks his arm around Jay Dawg’s neck and rolls him over with a modified headlock takeover. Before the third pin attempt can even be registered as one, Jay Dawg bridges his shoulders off the mat and spins his body. He hooks his arm in behind Renegade’s shoulder and pressures him into the mat with another takedown, briefly applying a fujiwara armbar only to roll over and facelock Renegade.

Stevens: “Some excellent technical wrestling from these two brawlers!”

Riley: “Pfft! Jay Dawg could carry the HVille Thugg to a technical masterpiece! Maybe only outclassed in his ability to carry to Tom Flesher!”

Stevens: “Who’s writing your lines?”

Riley: “What?”

Jay Dawg releases the facelock and grabs onto Renegade’s hair, lifting his head up and slap him across the face. Before Renegade can even retaliate, Jay Dawg leaps over top of his upper back, hooks onto the shoulders and rolls Renegade up with a half nelson cradle.

One…

Two…

No!

Stevens: “A close call on a roll up frequently used by Eddie Guerrero!”

Jay Dawg somersaults backward and is to his feet, and does a little dance jig on his toes to a massive amount of boos. Renegade stands on one knee, looking at JD and wipes his face from the slap he received earlier.

Stevens: “Jay Dawg apparently hasn’t forgotten how to fight normally! But that is quite the amount of arrogance!”

Riley: “It’s crazy!”

JD lightly taps his foot into the mat and thrusts forward, but Renegade crosses his arms with a block, grabs onto the ankle with both arms and pulls the hardcore champions legs out. Renegade jumps over top of JD and starts to hammer on his face. JD flexes his legs up, and with his thighs he grips them around Renegade’s waist with a scissorlock and rolls over, popping Renegade in the face with some punches. Renegade lifts his legs up as if for a sunset rollup, and pulls JD into the mat. Gade gets to his feet and dives on top of JD only to punch him in the face some more. JD pushes Renegade off and they both get to their feet, Renegade with the advantage as he taunts JD to come get some. JD obliges and is caught around the neck by Renegade as the XF9er drops to his knees, shattering the jaw of the Dawg over his cranium. Jay Dawg’s head bounces up in the air and he stumbles into the corner.

Stevens: “You will never beat Renegade in a brawling match! This guy just knows how to hit!”

As JD rests in the corner, Gade rudely interrupts with a shoulder to the gut. A loud “Oof!” resonates around the arena as they can hear the air being driven out of JD. Renegade thrusts his shoulder into Jay Dawg’s gut once more and gets another “Oof!” for his troubles. Renegade calmly steps out of the corner and a winded JD tries his darndest to swing at him. Renegade evades the attack, grabs the back of Jay Dawg’s hair, getting a handful of the almost ruined ponytail, and rams his head into the turnbuckle. The roaring crowd begins to go insane as the number of shots to Jay Dawg’s head increases greatly.

Stevens: “Listen to the crowd fall in love with this brawlfest that is being dominated by Renegade!”

Riley: “Renegade better be careful that it doesn’t go hardcore… because then Jay Dawg will cream him! Bong!”

Jay Dawg begins to go woozy as as his form of defense is turning his back to the turnbuckle…

Big mistake.

CRACK!!

Renegade hits Jay Dawg so hard with a right hand, that people swear they hear bone cracking. Jay Dawg spins out of the corner, stumbling around like he just got hit with a bat and tiny dribbles of blood trickle from his mouth. Renegade rushes off the ropes as the crowd is red hot for him…

…ricocheting off the ropes…

…To Jay Dawg’s slight left, he sees a force diving for him…

…The fans go insane as Renegade gores the holy hell out of Jay Dawg! Jay Dawg hits the mat hard and bounce so hard that he rolls backward, his legs springing off the ropes and rolling him forward. Renegade walks on his knees and makes the cover, hooking the leg and the crowd is so hot that they count along.

“ONE!!!”

ONE…

“TWO!!!”

TWO…

“THREE!!!”

THRE…NO!! The crowd realizes that it’s not a three count and instead of dying down, shout louder, but with curses and boos.

Stevens: “What a deadly gore that was! The people were hoping that it was enough to put Jay Dawg away!”

Jay Dawg slowly sits up while he cradles his ribs, Renegade assists him as he grabs the dangling brunette hair, the ponytail long gone. The small splats of blood have found their way onto the wifebeater as the red pierces the white with splurges of stains. Renegade has Jay Dawg’s head hang forward as he pops him with a forearm to the chin. Jay Dawg suddenly thrusts forward, his head under Renegade’s arm, he lifts the 9’er up and throws him over his head with a T-Bone suplex! Renegade folds up into the mat but sits back up. Jay Dawg is all over him as he facelocks the big guy and drives him facefirst into the mat before he can even get to his feet with the JD DDT! Renegade bounces face first off the mat and bounces onto his back as JD makes the cover. He hooks the leg tightly and the ref is there to count.

Stevens: “This could be all!”

Riley: “You can’t kill Jay Dawg!”

Jay Dawg suddenly hops to his feet, and stomps his foot into the mat(Who does he think he is?). As Renegade makes the journey to his feet, JD begins to stomp harder, the closer Renegade gets, the faster and harder JD stomps. Suddenly the larger adversary is at his feet and JD thrusts forward with the Thai Roundhouse, only for Renegade to duck! As JD spins around from the momentum, he spins right into a kick to the gut. Renegade applies the ¾ nelson facelock but is shoved into the ropes. Jay Dawg kicks Renegade in the gut and pulls him into a standing headscissors… but Renegade back body drops JD… right out of the ring!

Stevens: “What a counter!”

Jay Dawg soars through the air and very uncomfortable lands on the mat outside flat on his back. The crowd once again picks up the cheers for Renegade as he steps out of the ring right after JD. Jay Dawg slowly sits up, struggling halfway but making it all the way up. Renegade jumps off the ring apron, and drives the point of his eblow into the top of Jay Dawg’s head. Renegade shuffles his shoulders and pulls JD to his feet. He takes him by the announce table but is rocked in the mid-section with a forearm. Jay Dawg grabs the back of Renegade’s head and slams it into the table. The sickening smack gets a sympathetic reaction from the crowd.

Stevens: “You were right Riley… this might become hardcore after all!”

Riley: “Jay Dawg best not shove his face into my nuts as well! Only TNT can suck a good…”

Stevens: “Shut up.”

Jay Dawg slams the face of Gade into the table once more and Renegade’s head bounces off, letting him stumble away. JD grabs him by the wrist and whip… No… Renegade shifts his hips and reverses the Irish whip… sending Jay Dawg into the ringpole!

CLUNK!! (hollow head)

Jay Dawg staggers like a blindman without his dog and cane, and Renegade runs right for him, applying the ¾ nelson facelock ever so briefly as he drags him into the outside mat with the Renebreak! Jay Dawg’s face is pulverized into the mat but his body bounces right back up. Renegade looks on in disbelief as Jay Dawg lifts his eyelids… only to roll them into the back of his head and timber backward… Renegade nods as Jay Dawg falls down, crashing back first into the outside mat.

Stevens: “The Renebreak! It’s all over!”

Riley: “He can’t pin him on the outside! He has to get JD in the ring! BONG!!!”

Renegade crawls over to JD and peels him off the mat, slowly lifting and rolls him into the ring. The ref, who hasn’t even tried to count, just shakes his head as Renegade crawls into the ring and makes the cover.

ONE…

TWO…

THREE….Foot on the ropes. The crowd shows their dispreciation as the ref explains to Renegade about the whole foot on the rope deal.

Stevens: “What a close call by the Renebreak!”

Riley: “Jay Dawg didn’t waste any energy kicking out though, he just placed his foot over the rope. A simple tactic and allows him to use his energy on more…. ‘conservative’ matters.”

Renegade pulls Jay Dawg into a front facelock, and with a vertical suplex set up following, he snaps the hardcore champ over and into the mat with a snap suplex. Jay Dawg begins to cough out in exhaustion as blood and sweat begins to soak his wifebeater. Renegade rolls to his knees, and gets to his feet, he makes a dash to the ropes, bounce back, he leaps into the air with the leg drop, but Jay Dawg rolls out of the way! Renegade plunks his ass down into the center of the ring and he begins to curse himself for not having a flabby ass, because this hurts. He grabs his lower back as he hits the mat and slowly he climbs to his feet. Jay Dawg is barely to his feet faster then Renegade.

Stevens: “The tide turns once more!”

Riley: “Renegade is a surfer and Jay Dawg is a fucking tsunami!”

JD pushes Renegade back a step and Irish whips him into the ropes. Renegade rebounds off the cables and is hooked into Jay Dawg’s arm for a Mexican arm drag, and lifted high in the air by sheer momentum… but he kicks backward! Jay Dawg tries to motion into a facelock but the weight of Renegade knocks it back into a standing position. Renegade sets up another snap suplex, but Jay Dawg blocks. He hooks onto Renegade’s leg and tightly rolls him up with an inside cradle. Renegade rolls right through it and grabs the both of Jay Dawg’s legs, standing right up as he elevated the legs of JD. The crowd starts to go apeshit as he looks into the eyes of JD and starts talking trash. He elevates JD so high that the hardcore champ is almost standing on his head.

Stevens: “We’ve seen this before!”

Renegade just drops to the mat, letting his body weight catapult Jay Dawg through the air… right into the turnbuckles! Jay Dawg’s forehead barely misses the ringpole as his chest cavity caves in. He stumbles back out of the corner and Renegade runs behind him. Renegade jumps forward with his arm out and Jay Dawg drops to one knee! Renegade overshoots JD and before he can turn around and correct his mistake, Jay Dawg is in the air. The hardcore champ thrusts his leg out and…

SMACK!!

Kicks Renegade in the jaw with the Thai Roundhouse kick! Renegade’s knees buckle before him and he falls flat on his face, while the crowd all begins to pray. Jay Dawg shakes his head and spits out his blood in a misty form. He grabs the top of his shirt and rips the sweaty thing right off and turns back to Renegade.

Stevens: “This can’t be good!”

Riley: “He’s ready to end it my friend!”

Renegade starts to sit up and is grabbed by the back of the air. The eyelids of his adversary begin to rise, and the sadistic eyes of Jay Dawg once again make their appearance. He pulls Renegade into a standing headscissors and crosses Gade’s arms over his throat. Jay Dawg says something inaudible presumably a curse of some sorts as he leaps into the air and extends his knees… driving the face of Renegade into the mat and nearly kills the throat while he is at it. Jay Dawg shoots his hair up, letting his eyes still be seen as he rolls Renegade over and places his hands over the body, and hooks the leg with his free arm. His eyes are staring straight forward as he nearly demands that the ref counts to three.

ONE…

TWO…

THREE!!!

Jay Dawg throws the leg into the mat and steps up, finally letting his eyelids close. The ref raises his hand as Du Haste hits the speakers, but JD quickly pulls it away and grabs his title.

Stevens: “Another great battle between Renegade and Jay Dawg!”

Riley: “It may have seemed dangerously close, but Jay Dawg had it in the bag!”

Stevens: “There was some times that I thought Renegade what have gotten the upset… but I guess you can say he went to the well one too many times!”

Funyon: “The winner of this match via pinfall! JAY DAWG!!!”

Jay Dawg rests over the top rope for a moment as the hardcore title hangs over his shoulder. He spits out a thick gob of blood and steps through the ropes. Finally resorting to walking up the ramp. He takes a look from the top of the ramp, and just shakes his head.

Stevens: “Not the usual reaction we see from Jay Dawg!”

Riley: “Ah well! He still won in an impressive fashion!”

Stevens: “That he did. But don’t count out Renegade… he’s got a future with us! Anyway don’t go away folks! We still have a pair of matches this show and believe me… they will be great!”

Cut to commercial…

September 24, 2002

***The night is still young in the Floridian city, as the cameras spot the parking area backstage. The door flies open, as Tod deKindes appear on the doorstep, rolling briefcase in one hand and folded up trench coat in the other. Clad in his trendy street clothes, Tod walks the halls all while nodding a salute to various SWF staff and employees.

After walking the halls for a few minutes, he arrives at the door with the green XF9 logo … which he surprisingly notices that it's opened a crack. Odd, he thinks, since he's the first one of the group, to his knowledge, to arrive at the dressing room/XF9 headquarters. He nudges the door open with his hand, making his way inside. Upon sight of the unwelcome occupant, his look drops to another degree of coldness, and confusion driven by hatred. Camera pans over to the right to find … Annie Eclectic, sitting on a couch, resting her feet on the coffee table. She's reading documents out of a folder of some sort. She greets him with a smile.***

Tod: … Get out.

Annie: What, no Hellos or How You Doing?

Tod: What do you want?

Annie: Came by to say hi … and remind you of our little date at Genesis. You DO plan on defending that title of yours, don't you?

Tod: I won't fight you, Annie … You were my friend.

Annie: Oh, we WILL fight at Genesis, sweetie. That is, if you don't want me to reveal all this neat information I'm looking at right here. (gets up and gradually makes her way towards Tod as she keeps leafing through the folder)

Tod: I got nothing to hide.

Annie: Is that so? Lessee here … "For Cause of Violent Behavior and Attacking A Fellow Student, Expelled From Berlin Verss-- vers..help me out here?

Tod: …(sighs) … Berlin Verbesserung-Schule. That's Berlin Reform School.

Annie: And you attacked other students?!! God, you were such an angry little boy back then!

Tod: What's your point, Annie?

Annie: Listen up, Tod deKindes … (peeks at folder) If that IS your real name … I know all about your little claim of searching for someone. You know what I mean, right? About yea high, blonde hair … answers by the name of Sara?

***Almost suddenly, Tod's face looks away in anger. It's NOT a name he wants to hear spoken by other people.***

Tod: … What do you know?

Annie: More than you think. And I happen to know things that juuuust might surprise you…

Tod: …Why're you doing this? … Why, Annie?

Annie: See, I'm gave myself a challenge. I was wondering if I could get inside the mind of the seemingly impenetrable mighty Tod deKindes. And from the looks of things … (runs her finger all over Tod's face, punctuated by a soft slap on the cheek) … It's working.

Tod: (lets out a long angered sigh) … I trusted you.

Annie: Trust is for the WEAK! (this time, she lets out a mighty open handed slap across Tod's face. He doesn't react right away, only contracting his facial muscles, ready to explode) Yeah, you trusted me. You, Pete, Ash, Renegade … you ALL trusted me. Which makes you all the more PATHETIC than you've ever been … (Tod's dagger-like eyes are now targeted on Annie) Oh, you wanna hit me now? Go ahead! … I can see it in your eyes, Tod. All the anger, all the resentment, all the HATRED! … If only Sara could see you now …

Tod: You're not WORTHY of speaking her name …

Sara: Am I? … You'd be surprised at what I know, Tod. I did my homework.

Tod: You'll regret this.

Sara: We'll see. On that note, I hope you're ready for Genesis …

***Tod stands there, torn by his emotions of anger and contempt at who he thought was his friend; as Annie calmly walks away, fanning herself with the folder.

In a spur of the moment, Tod violently throws his bundled up coat against the wall.***

***Fade to black.***

September 24, 2002

“And now,” says Mark Stevens, speaking as soon as the cameras fade away from black, “We have our impromptu main event, that was just signed tonight, a tag team match between Edwin MacPhisto and Thoth on one side, and Chris Raynor and Silent on the other. There are tons of personal agendas here in what could possibly be a very hate filled match. Edwin and Raynor, Edwin and Silent, Thoth and Silent... I hope we have other officials on standby because this match could blow up very quickly and very easily.”

“Why would they want to interfere?” says Riley, talking between mouthfuls of popcorn. “This could be great for ratings! People across the nation would love to see this kind of action on the eve of a pay per view. And what’s more, it would raise buyrates by a good margin. See, Stevens? I’m a businessman. A thinking man,” he adds, tapping the side of his forehead with his finger. “I don’t know why the SWF hasn’t decided to give me a job with the front office, because, hey, I like you Stevens... but you’re not my type.”

“Well, Bobby,” Stevens replies calmly, “Maybe it’s because you don’t wear pants.”

“Nice try, but that was NTD’s gimmick.”

“Still though, you’re not wearing pants.” Riley crosses his arms over his chest in response. “This is America, and I refuse to be persecuted for my beliefs!”

“In clothes...?” Silence fills the announcer’s booth, but soon, “Quarantined” by At The Drive-in plays, going right past the bridge to the main riff, and the lights eschew their normal blue hue to go straight to being red. Thoth and Edwin MacPhisto walk out from behind the curtain with force and great purpose, their eyes not hiding the anger within them.

“The following tag team contest is scheduled for one fall!” booms Funyon’s voice. “Introducing first, at a total combined weight of 475 pounds... EDWIN MACPHIIIISTOOO... and THOOOOOTH!”

The duo, sometimes enemies, sometimes rivals, sometimes friends, climb into the ring with no pomp or circumstance, as the lights’ blood-red gaze gives the two men’s figures an ominous glow. The lights fade to normal, and then to black, as spotlights flicker rapidly on the entry stage. Spineshank’s “Detached” accompanies the disconcerting flashing as two more men, both angry as well, letting scowls darken their faces, even the formerly jovial face of Raynor, emerge from the curtain, with a shot of thick white fog. Thoth and Edwin back tot he far side of the ring, but they do not leave it’s confines, or show any noticeable weakness.

“And their opponents, weighing in at a combined 498 pounds... CHRISSSS RAYNOR... and SIIIILENT!”

They both enter the ring, standing parallel from Edwin and Thoth. A staredown from the length of the long outlasts the entrance music and lights, as they are deadlocked when the normal arena lights come back on. A furtive exchange of glances, and Thoth and Raynor are left in the ring to start the festivities.

*DING DING DING*

The two waste no time locking up, testing their strength against each other. Thoth gets an early advantage with a hammerlock, leaning out of the way to avoid swift retribution from Raynor’s large biceps. However, the powerful former Carnie has enough force in his hips and torqued arm to duck under and go behind, reversing the hammerlock. He cinches up on the arm, forcing Thoth’s face to squinch up in pain. Thoth fakes left, then right, trying to find an out, but Raynor locks the arm fully tight. Thoth is no longer able to turn to the side to escape... so he falls forward, bracing himself for the impact of Raynor’s 250 pounds on top of his back and arm. After he falls, but before he settles, Thoth rolls to the side, using the rapidly depleting momentum to roll on top of Raynor! The referee makes a quick count...

ONE!

TWO!

Chris Raynor has no choice but to release the hold. Thoth rolls off, onto his feet, shaking the arm out. Raynor approaches, closing the distance so Thoth cannot use his sharp striking attacks, then goes to work attacking with blunt punches. The Balancer snaps back with every blow, trying to find his footing, but failing. Raynor winds up with a wild haymaker that knocks his foe back to his corner.

“Chris Raynor has been fighting with unprecedented intensity these days, using his strength in ways that could lead him to a possible world championship soon.”

“I’m surprised he hasn’t tried to do this before... I always thought he had what it took.”

Thoth finds himself being slapped on the back by Edwin MacPhisto, who steps into the ring with a glare that could stop even the closest of friends... but can it stop enemies? Raynor takes a step back, then shakes it off, charging headlong towards his former leader and friend. Edwin flares for a brief instant, then returns the lock-up with the Caveman. The two know each other so well, that Raynor’s strength isn’t an advantage, only a leverage chip against Edwin’s intricate knowledge of his techniques. Raynor tries for an Exploder, but setting up his arms to be in the right place takes too long, and Edwin locks a reverse side headlock, cinching the temple of Raynor’s head tight. The big man uses his power, though, to shove Edwin off. The Crown Prince of Flash and Panache backpedals into the ropes, not under his own power. He runs back, as Raynor sticks an elbow out that Edwin smacks his nose into. The crowd “Ooh’s” at the stiffness of the blow. Raynor lays in the boots for a moment, then looks back to his corner. The Slaughterer is waiting, his arms folded, his gaze lowered, yet threatening. Raynor feels the desire to hurt, to inflict pain, emanating from this horrible, miserable individual, and does the only logical thing.

Tags him in.

“Business is about to pick up, Stevens…”

”Riley, for once in your life, shut up. This is serious…”

Silent steps through the ropes to MASSIVE heat from the crowd as Edwin steadies himself on the ropes…

*SLAP*

…And the Balancer tags himself in.

“You’re witnessing a rare event right now, Bobbi. It’s been more than a year since Thoth and Silent have been on opposite sides of that ring…I shudder to think what they’re going to do to each other…”

The two men approach each other tentatively – the Balancer and the Slaughterer, as Edwin steps onto the apron, still rubbing his jaw where Raynor caught him with that elbow shot moments before. The crowd rallies behind Thoth as he stands nose-to-nose with the Silent One…

“KAE-SA-ME! KAE-SA-ME!”

”Is that Thoth’s real name, Mark?”

”I believe it is. ‘Thoth’ gets difficult to chant after a while, or so I’ve been told.”

The two men go into an aggressive collar-and-elbow tie-up, and Silent quickly pushes Thoth back into the turnbuckle. The referee forces a break…

“Look at Silent! He’s not even LOOKING at Thoth! What an arrogant bastard!”

”I know. Isn’t it great?”

Silent stares icily at MacPhisto, who stands firm on the apron, and the buzz of the crowd goes up a decibel or two as the Silent One slowly backs away from his opponent, allowing Thoth to move freely out of the corner.

“A curt message to Edwin, and a slap in the face to Thoth – really, Mark, what more can you ask for in one wrestler?”

”A conscience? A sense of morality? A slightly less morbid entrance theme?”

”Philistine,” mutters Riley, as Silent and Thoth lunge towards each other into another collar-and-elbow tie-up.

Silent smoothly grabs an arm wringer out of the lock-up, driving an elbow or two into Thoth’s arm for emphasis. The Balancer, only momentarily inconvenienced, rolls through the hold, releasing the pressure on his elbow, and promptly reverses into an arm wringer of his own! Silent grimaces as Thoth drills an elbow into his outstretched arm –- tit for tat, as it were.

The Slaughterer pulls his right arm back and drives it forward, rocking Thoth’s jaw with a stiff elbow shot. Silent quickly pulls his arm from Kaesame’s grasp and hooks it behind his shoulder, then grabs hold of his left leg as well. The Silent One lifts Thoth off his feet into what LOOKS like a backflip slam, but he begins to fall backward at an alarming angle…

“Silent’s going for the Stigmata, of all things!”

”Stig-what-to-the-who?”

”The Stigmata, you dolt! Spider Nekura’s old finisher! If Thoth lands on his neck after taking the Demonstar Beta a few weeks ago, that could easily put him back on the shelf!”

The Slaughterer falls backwards, drawing a collective gasp from the crowd…but Thoth shifts his weight in mid-air, and comes down on top of a surprised Silent with a somewhat improvised cross-body block!

ONE!

TWO- Silent easily kicks out, and both men roll to their feet…Thoth looks to open things up a little more with a quick roundhouse kick, but Silent sidesteps the Balancer’s foot, bounces off the ropes for momentum, and plasters Kaesame with a Roaring Elbow! Thoth stumbles back into the ropes, obviously stunned…and Silent shakes his head, a grin evident on the Slaughterer’s face as if to say, “I expected better from you.”

”Silent has got to be the cockiest wrestler on the roster, and yes, Riley, I’m including Flesher in that statement.”

“Are you sure about that, Stevens? I mean, Flesher does equal ratings and all that…”

Before Thoth can recover from the impact of the Roaring Elbow, the Silent One briskly crosses over to the heel corner and tags in Chris Raynor to a sizable chant of “YOU’RE A PUS-SY! (Clap, clap, clap clap clap). Raynor comes tearing into the ring, looking to catch Thoth with a big boot, but the Balancer calmly grabs hold of Raynor’s boot, steps over, and floors the big man with a reverse enziguri! Thoth kips up to his feet to a nice pop from the crowd, extends a one-finger salute to his former stablemate to MASSIVE amounts of applause, and drags a dazed Raynor up as well. The Balancer slaps on a headlock and pulls his opponent over to his corner, where the Crown Prince of Flash and Panache eagerly awaits…

*SLAP*

“And here comes Edwin!” Mark shouts, forced to compete with the roar of the crowd!

MacPhisto climbs in through the ropes and gives the roaring masses a salute, before booting Raynor in the gut. Thoth releases his hold on the ex-Carny and takes his place in the good guy corner. Edwin grabs Raynor by the hair and guides him over to a neutral corner, then shoots a dirty look at Silent across the ring, before shoving Raynor back into the corner, rearing back his arm-

*CRACK*

“WHOOOOOOOO!”

*CRACK*

“WHOOOOOOOO!”

*CRACK*

“WHOOOOOOOO!”

After a series of chops, Edwin pulls Raynor out, making for an Irish Whip, but then pulls him back into a raised knee, and with the ex-Carny doubled over Edwin grabs his head and delivers a Swinging Neckbreaker!

“More punishment to the neck of Raynor!”

“He’s trying to paralyze him, Mark! Because he knows this Sunday, Raynor’s got his number!”

“Well, I suppose being paralyzed would give Raynor something of a handicap…”

Raynor rolls away, both arms up and around his neck, as MacPhisto gets back to his feet, and takes a moment to bask in the rapidly rising “MAC-PHIS-TO! MAC-PHIS-TO!” chants. Raynor desperately swipes at the ropes across the ring, aiming for anything, and he manages to snag the middle and pull himself up to his knees, but Edwin is quickly on him, taking him by the hand and dragging him out to the center of the ring. He bends Raynor over and pulls up his elbow, looking to drive it down-

-Raynor quickly reaches behind, grabs Edwin’s leg, and pulls it out from under him! MacPhisto crashes to the mat, and Raynor drags him by the leg while making a desperate run for Silent!

“Just a few more feet, Raynor!”

But Edwin uses his free foot and stiffly kicks Raynor in the back of his knee! Raynor drops to his knees, releasing the Mac Daddy’s foot, and Edwin dives forward and tackles him, ending his trek to the corner! He locks on a headlock and slooooooowly walks Raynor back up to his feet, all the while inching back towards his own corner. Raynor gets his hands on Edwin’s back and pushes him off - Edwin goes into the ropes and comes back, and-

“-ducks a HUGE elbow! Raynor threw everything he had into that one, Riley!”

-and he hits the opposite ropes. On his way back, Raynor drops down for a back body drop, but telegraphs it, leaving himself blatantly open! Edwin stops right in front of Raynor, inverted headlock-

“DDT! Into the cover!” shouts Mark.

ONE!

TWO!

T

H

R- Raynor kicks out before three!

Edwin rolls up and Raynor rolls away, still trying to get the kinks out of his neck. He claws the canvas and begins dragging himself towards-

“- a much needed tag to Silent… but it doesn’t look like Edwin’s game for it!”

Wagging his finger, Edwin allows Raynor to just baaaaaarely get close enough, then grabs him by the foot and yanks him back to the center of the ring!

“Edwin PH3@RZ Silent!”

“I thought he feared Raynor…”

“He, uh… fears them both!”

Edwin drags Raynor across the ring on his stomach, then again leaps forward and applies a headlock, to keep himself in control. Still holding Raynor, he turns around and heads back for Thoth, when Raynor, quick like a bunny, slips his head out from Edwin’s grasp, wraps his arms around Edwin’s waist, and lifts Edwin high up and over in a release German Suplex!

“OOOOOOOOOH!” from the crowd as Edwin lands right on the back of his head and folds over, and Raynor falls to his knees. He grabs the nearby ropes and pulls himself up, bracing himself for some kind of impact…

… then he looks to see Edwin, in a heap on the canvas.

“Man,” Mark says, “that was a SICK German Suplex! Raynor may have done in one move what Team ThothPhisto has been trying to do all this time!”

Raynor stumbles about for a second; looking up at his cold, emotionless partner, then back down at Edwin… Silent… Edwin… Silent…

Fuck Silent.

Raynor stoops down and grabs Edwin by his hair, then gives him an extra hard yank up to his feet. He stands Edwin up, and gets right in his face-

*SMACK*

“And Raynor gets a Cocktail O’ Shame!”

Edwin spins around and kicks up for a roundhouse, but Raynor ducks the final blow of the combo! Edwin loses his balance, and Raynor catches him from behind, locks his arms up, Full Nelson Suplex!

“You were saying, Mark?” Riley scoffs.

“Well… he ALMOST got a Cocktail O’ Shame.” Mark replies sheepishly.

Raynor gets back to his feet relatively quickly, and then laughs out loud as he sees Edwin slowly stumble towards Thoth, waiting with an outstretched hand! He mockingly wags his finger before grabbing Edwin by the leg and pulling him all the way back across the ring!

“What goes around comes around, you freakish Brit!”

“… freakish Brit?”

“… Yea…”

Silent watches impatiently as Raynor quickly falls next to Edwin, dropping the point of his elbow into the back of the Mac Daddy’s head. Then he drags the Crown Prince to his feet, scoops him up, and carries him over to a neutral corner and hangs him upside down in it! Raynor backs away for a moment, holding his neck and rolling it around…

“It looks like damage has already been done,” Mark notes, but Raynor soon shrugs it off and moves back to Edwin, pulls back a closed fist aaaand-

ONE!

TWO!

THREE!

FOUR!

FIVE!

SIX!

“Damnit Riley, stop screaming the count!”

“Someone’s gotta make up for this disappointing lack of audience participation!”

NINE!

TEN!

Raynor then grabs Edwin around the waist and lifts him out of the corner, turns around, then heaves Edwin up and lets go! Edwin flies up a few feet, then falls a good six feet straight to the canvas, facing down! His face snaps off the mat first, and the crowd gets all over Raynor, who is chuckling again.

“Man, just like that, ThothPhisto is on the receiving end… I hate to actually agree with Riley on something, folks, but going by recent weeks I’d actually have to maybe… sort of… AGREE with Raynor… he really is holding his ow-”

*SLAP*

“Uh oooooh,” says Mark, and practically everyone in attendance, as Silent is leaning far over the ropes and has just blind tagged himself in!

“TEAM TENSION~!” shouts Riley, tilde and all.

Raynor turns around…and sees cold blue eyes staring through him.

Chris Raynor, while a genuine hard-ass of a guy on most accounts, merely grumbles and begrudgingly makes his way out of the ring, giving Edwin one last stiff kick to the side before departing. “Raynor’s making way for Silent, and the Slaughterer might be going right after his former Clansman—oh god, Riley.”

“What? What are you bitching about?”

“It’s Edwin. This is the first time these two have been on opposite ends of a match since Silent’s debut at Ground Zero! This is unprecedented!”

“Hey, you’re right!” shouts Riley, as the crowd starts to also become aware, murmuring and booing louder and louder as Silent stalks towards the former world champion, the fiery-haired Brit pushing himself up slowly, clutching his face. “Break his neck again, Edwin! Or maybe Silent can break his! Woo!”

“Riley, shut your mouth for a second. This is serious…”

“Seriously cool!”

“Jesus christ…”

Edwin gets to one knee, then another, catching a glimpse of Thoth straining towards him, hearing the roars of the crowd, turning to hopefully pop Raynor right in the face…and realizing that, holy shit, that ain’t Raynor. Edwin MacPhisto locks eyes with Silent, both men standing 6’5”, both men staring deep into each other from just inches away. “Ladies and gentlemen, it’s been 2 months since Silent’s debut that he’s been chasing Edwin, but more importantly, it’s been six years since Phoenix, Arizona—this place is about to explode!” Raynor pounds against the turnbuckle in the heel corner, and Thoth does likewise from face country…

…and Edwin MacPhisto turns his back on Silent. And he walks away.

“My god! Edwin just disrespected the Silent One!” The crowd gasps, and Silent takes an irate step forward…

…and Edwin MacPhisto spins around on his heel 180 degrees, suddenly driving his palm right into Silent’s chest to blow the Slaughterer back and away! The crowd explodes, and Edwin charges, swinging punches left and right! “Shotei from Edwin—Edwin hit Silent hard, and these two are seriously getting into it!” The crowd goes nuts as Edwin rockets away on Silent with punch after punch, the Silent One meeting every strike with a stiff shot of his own! Edwin pushes forward and grabs Silent’s arm for a whip, but Silent plants his feet and sends Edwin for the ride, streaming towards him with a burning lariat…that Edwin dodges with a baseball slide! Silent hits the breaks and whips back around, but Edwin takes him over in an armdrag—no, Silent plants his feet again and powers forward, reversing the armdrag into an arm dragon screw and flipping Edwin down into a stiff fujiwara armbar…that’s instantly broken with a slick MacPhisto legsweep, clipping Silent’s legs out from under him and breaking the hold!

“These guys know each other in and out, Mark! Neck-breaking has to be imminent!” Both ring warriors power up and charge again, landing an aggressive collar-and-elbow lock up, Silent quickly using his strength advantage to push Edwin backwards towards the corner! The Silent One launches a knee to the gut, stunning Edwin long enough for the former Clansman to unwrap one arm, jerk Edwin forward with an arm wrench, snake his neck for a single-arm DDT…and go nowhere, as Edwin gets his free arm around the top rope!

“Edwin blocked the Fracture Drop!”

Silent releases Edwin with a growl and comes spinning back with a power drive elbow, but the Mac Daddy acts fast, leaping out of the corner and catching Silent with a superkick…no, Silent catches it with both ends, leaving Edwin on precarious balance…and the Mac Daddy flips for an enzuigiri, only to have Silent fluidly duck! Twisted as he lands, Edwin crashes to a halt on one contorted knee, and Silent quickly releases the leg and locks a rear choke, tearing Edwin back to his feet…and quickly spinning him into a standing crossface hold! The fans gape, and Stevens has a mild fit! “The Demonstar Driver Beta! If Silent lands this on Edwin—and lords knows he’s been waiting forever to do it—then Edwin’s neck might just fold in two! Raynor’s already destroyed it with suplexes—come on, Edwin!” Silent readies Edwin…and Edwin suddenly kicks out his feet and rolls backward, curling Silent up into a small package!

“CRADLE! CRADLE! EDWIN’S GOT SILENT!” The crowd goes nuts as the ref dives in!

ONE!

TWO!

THR—and Silent explodes outward, bursting to his feet almost immediately! “Edwin reversed that so easily—these two really DO know each other in and out!” Edwin too climbs up, spinning back around with a mild grin…and getting ABSOLUTELY LEVELLED by a mighty roaring elbow! Silent’s arm cracks Edwin firm across the face and drops him like a sack of rocks, and the former world champion curls up, clutching his neck!

“250 pounds of pure aggression and hate behind that elbow!” screams Riley. “Edwin’s neck has got to be COMPACTED!” Not wasting any time, Silent quickly wrenches up off the mat, glaring at an irate Thoth, the lithe Balancer just waiting for a chance to get his hands on Silent. With a smirk, Silent suddenly slams Edwin into a tight standing headscissors…

“No way!”

And gutwrenches him up…

“Yes way!”

…hooking one leg in position for a cradle tombstone piledriver!

CRUUUUUNCH!

“RIOT OF THE BLOOD!” squeals Riley! “Silent just used Thoth’s finishing maneuver to put Edwin MacPhisto down—no, dammit, dammit, get down! He’s not legal, Mark!” As Silent rises, shouting down at Edwin, he’s totally unaware of an absolutely raging Balancer climbing the turnbuckle behind him, facing out towards the crowd! Silent stands to let out a roar, extending his arms in a crucifix position, not catching Raynor’s desperate shouts from the heel corner of things! The crowd explodes, but before Silent can turn…

WHAM!

Thoth moonsaults backwards and catches Silent’s head, drilling him facefirst into the mat with the Scum Gale! The crowd goes nuts and Chris Raynor breaks into a mad frenzy, hopping onto the second rope and bouncing like a madman as Thoth rolls off and drags Edwin’s arm across Silent’s chest! “Scum Gale!” shouts Stevens, and there’s not a seated fan in the whole arena as the ref dives in for the academic pinfall! “ThothPhisto just took Silent OUT!”

ONE!

TWO!

THREEEEEEEEEEEEE—and Silent throws his shoulder up, breaking the weak cover and stirring to his feet! Thoth, besmirched, can’t believe it, and he throws a big eye rake from the apron, but Silent catches the arm and sits out, snapping Thoth’s arms over the top and temporarily disabling him! Silent drags Edwin to his feet and whips him across the ring towards Raynor, who catches Edwin in the corner, choking and torquing at his neck as Silent barrels forward…and absolutely PASTES Edwin into the corner with a Burning Lariat! The Mac Daddy slumps over, and Silent drags him towards the center of the—

SLAP!

“Oh, dear…”

Silent drops Edwin’s arm and turns, one hand on his hip, the other gesturing out as Raynor climbs into the ring. “Oh, come on guys,” begs Riley, “don’t fight! Raynor can pin Edwin now, and Silent later! Maybe even pin him twice!” Behind the two mortal enemies of the Crown Prince of Flash and Panache, the man himself weakly crawls to a knee, assessing the argument…and noticing Silent’s back turned to him.

Hello, opportunity.

Thoth climbs up onto the apron across the ring, watching as Edwin pushes himself up with the last of his strength, gasping and stumbling towards Silent, totally unaware…and totally flying backwards as Edwin once again snakes an arm between his legs for a schoolboy! The crowd shouts words of warning and Edwin locks Silent tight as the Slaughterer thrashes about on instinct—

“But Silent’s not the legal man! Edwin didn’t see the blind tag!” shouts Mark! The referee tries to explain, but Edwin doesn’t hear a word, instead holding Silent down, looking to the ref and shouting back on his own…when suddenly, Chris Raynor dives in from the side barreling into the two interlocked men and rolling them both over, putting HIS weight on Edwin and rolling HIM up into a schoolboy! The Mac Daddy loses his grasp on Silent and kicks wildly, and the ref dives to the mat! “No! No!” shouts Stevens. “Not like this!”

ONE!

Edwin resists as Thoth gapes, rushing into the ring…

TWO!

…and Silent rolls back over, holding Raynor’s legs down for leverage!

THREEEEEEE!

“A blatant double-team!” screams Stevens, as the bell rings, Thoth slamming into the pile of men just a second too late! The crowd explodes into boos! “Raynor took advantage of Edwin missing the blind tag, and with Silent’s help secured a pinfall on the man who’s been ‘holding him down’ all this time!”

“Your winners,” bellows Funyon, “Silent, and Chriiiiiiis Raynor!” “The Grudge” starts to blare, and Raynor, in a bit of shock, leaps around the ring screaming wildly!

“I pinned him! I pinned him! I PINNED YOU, EDWIN!”

“Raynor’s getting full of himself—as if he needed any more ego!” rants Stevens!

“Come off it, Mark! Silent and Raynor won fair and square!”

Blank stare.

“Come on, it was totally legal!”

Blank stare.

“All right, fine—at least he didn’t grab the tights, huh? Huh?”

The team of Thoth and Edwin MacPhisto both rise to their feet, intent on silencing the whooping pile of illogical joy that is Chris Raynor…

…

But, of course…

FWOOOOOOOSH! THUNK!

Silent isn’t finished.

“The Grudge” blasts through the arena as the Silent One floors Thoth from behind with a barrage of cane shots to the back! Edwin sees Thoth fall out of the corner of his eye, and rushes to his aid…

…only to be taken down from behind with a forward legsweep from Chris Raynor! “Damn it, this isn’t right!” yells Mark Stevens as Raynor cross MacPhisto’s arms around his throat and proceeds to lock him in the Grudge! “This isn’t going to prove your point, Chris! Look what you’re doing! Listen to these fans! Look at your teammate, for Christ’s sake!”

Back in the ring, Silent stands menacingly over Edwin MacPhisto as Raynor wrenches back on his neck, cinching the Grudge in tighter and tighter. Thoth slowly gets to his feet, stunned by the multiple cane shots that he was just hit with. He cannot find his balance, continually staggering from one foot to his other, his chest heavy with urgent breath. The crowd lets out a loud cheer, which Silent picks up on. He turns around to see his rival, not dead yet. With a grin, Silent walks around the perimeter of the ring, keeping his eyes on the Balancer as he “borrows” Funyon’s mic.

“Still alive, eh, Yuuichiro? You ARE better then your father ever was, so I give you credit.” Loud boos from the audience.

“What the hell is he talking about?” shouts Stevens, as Silent continues. “I see you still want to fight. I’ve been avoiding you, Thoth, because I don’t want to hurt you. That would truly be a shame upon shames. But if you insist... this Sunday, at Genesis. The birth... the rebirth... we shall witness the rebirth of hell itself. I will face you, Thoth, one on one.” The cheers from the crowd erupt as Stevens gets his composure.

“Finally! Silent won’t run away anymore from Thoth!”

Silent holds a finger up in the air. “But! I have two stipulations.” He raises another finger on the same hand to make two. “One... it will be a two out of three falls match.” Crowd pop.

“And two... it will indeed be hell...”

...

Oh, come on. You know what’s coming.

...

“In a cell.”

MASSIVE CROWD POP.

“My god, Bobby! Thoth vs Silent, Hell in a Cell! It’s a rematch from one year ago! This is amazing!”

“Silent is a genius! He’s going to crucify Thoth before our very eyes this Sunday!”

Silent lowers his hand, and starts to speak as life begins to show and sparkle in Thoth’s eyes.

“I know you want it this way... and so do I, Balancer. The fickle threads of fate have thrown us together again, and rather than run from them, let us embrace them. Look at your stomach, Yuuichiro,” Silent says coldly, motioning to his scars on his stomach. “I gave those to you one year ago. This Sunday, I shall do the same to the rest of your body.”

He drops the mic. “Detached” plays, as the camera fades to black at Copyright SWF 2002 appears in the lower-right hand corner, Stevens hurried voice shouting “See you at Genesis!”

September 24, 2002

And now...a recap of this show's impressive 3 matches.

Light-Heavyweight Title Match

Tom Flesher vs. Xero

- Why, Flesher of course.

Non-Title Singles Match

Jay Dawg vs. Renegade

- Why, Jay Dawg of course.

MAIN EVENT

Tag Team Match

Thoth/Edwin MacPhisto vs. Silent/Chris Raynor

- Raynor harnesses the power of evil and pins MacPhisto!

Sign In

SWF Smarkdown (Sept. 23/2002)

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