SWF Genesis 3

[Guest BA_Baracus]

[sWF Genesis hits the airwaves and the cameras quickly scan the rabid audience, then focus on the imposing Genesis 3 set, which is several stories tall and features numerous screens supported by elaborate scaffolding.

 

Suddenly a series of huge blue pyros burst forth from the stage, and after a few seconds the pyros change color to yellow, then green, then red. Pretty much every color of pyro in existence blasts from the stage for nearly a minute straight then the camera once again scans the audience as “Open your eyes” by Goldfinger starts blaring over the speakers.]

 

Stevens – Hello everybody and welcome to the grandest spectacle this industry has to offer…SWF Genesis!

 

Riley – This event’s so big, that even a cynical butthole like me has been looking forward to it for months!

 

Stevens – Tonight we’ll see the hardcore, US, tag team, ICTV and of course heavyweight championships defended!

 

Riley – Plus the blow-offs to such feuds as Edwin/Raynor and Divefire/Wilson!

 

Stevens – Wow…you know Riley, so far there’s been a distinct lack of stupid comments from you. I’m impressed.

 

Riley – Don’t worry…I’m just pacing myself. This is going to be a long night.

 

Steven – I knew it was too good to be true. Anyways, on with the show!

[Guest BA_Baracus]

2/3 FALLS MATCH

CIA vs. Mak Francis

- A long-raging and bitter rivalry…but it’s a JL feud so it’s the curtain jerk match and it likes it! Both these guys are quite talented though and will likely have memorable runs in the SWF, if they don’t kill each other this Sunday of course.

Match Description – DQ and count-out rules are in effect. Submissions, pinfalls and knockouts all count as “falls”. Being disqualified will result in a fall being subtracted from your total. The first wrestler to score 2 falls is the winner.

 

TAG TEAM TITLE MATCH

Frost & Taylor Nicholas Thompson © vs. Ash Ketchum & Xero

- About a month ago Xero and Danny Williams were chasing Frost and Taylor’s tag team titles and Ash had an issue with Frost. Apparently wounds haven’t healed, in fact they’ve gotten all infected and pussy with the bacteria of hatred. You know what they say…tag team title defences make odd bedfellows and the unlikely duo of Ash Ketchum and that wacky “he’s still in the fed?” Xero will take Chitty Chitty Bang Bang this Sunday (although what they hope to accomplish by beating up a flying car is beyond me).

 

HARDCORE MATCH

Jay Dawg © vs. Ced Ordonez

- One’s the personification of pure Canadian goodness and the other, the corrupt evil of America. Wait…I got that wrong? The Canadian’s the heel and the dirty yankee is the face? Who’s booking this stuff? Anywho…can Dawg walk out of Genesis still the hardcore champion?

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

 

US TITLE MATCH

Tod deKindes © vs. Annie Eclectic

- Annie Eclectic hasn’t been on the good side of anyone from X Force 9 since turning her back on them, but she seems particularly interested in torturing Tod deKindes and has even dug up something involving a woman from his past. It should be good battle this Sunday and hopefully Tod pulls down Annie’s pants or something since I accidentally forgot to book a gratuitous T&A segment.

 

VANCOUVER STREETFIGHT

Divefire vs. Chris Wilson

- An old rivalry between two equally old competitors. These two have been at each other’s throats for the past month or so, but the question is… will either them be able to survive a deadly street fight against one of the most dangerous men in the league or will we perhaps see one of these two men’s storied careers come to a spectacular end?

Match Description – Regular DQ and count-out rules are not in effect. The match will start in the lobby of the arena. Pinfalls, submissions and knockouts count absolutely anywhere within the city of Vancouver.

 

NO-DQ, NO INTERFERENCE MATCH FOR THE #1 CONTENDERSHIP OF THE SWF HEAVYWEIGHT TITLE

Axis vs. Sacred

- Axis returned to the SWF and has challenged fellow Australian native, Sacred, to see who the better kangaroo wrangler…er, I mean wrestler is. These two grapplers know each other better than the dingos that stole them as infants and raised them in the Outback, so it should be a very hotly contested battle. Oh, and since AFETA (the Association for the Fair and Equitable Treatment of Australians) is on my case, this will be a #1 contenders match as well!

Match Description – Regular DQ and count-out rules are not in effect. Submissions, pinfalls and knockouts only count within the ring. The ring will be surrounded on all sides by security to keep anyone from interfering.

 

LAST MAN STANDING MATCH

Chris Raynor vs. Edwin MacPhisto

- They were once best friends, so naturally they’re now worst enemies (I mean this is wrestling after all). After turning on Edwin these two have been involved in many confrontations and after proving to CC that he’s worthy of the shot, Raynor will do everything he can to defeat his former leader. There’s a lot of emotion behind this match and it should be a slobberknocker.

Match Description – Regular DQ and count-out rules are not in effect. The winner is the first man to knock his opponent down for a 10 count within the ring.

 

ICTV TITLE MATCH

Perfect Bo © vs. ?

- Perfect Bo managed to upset Chris Wilson and Longdogger Pete in a Miami Mayhem match last week on Storm. Wilson had a PPV re-match in his contract, but since he’s going to be occupied with Divefire, he gave the match to the newest member of the Magnificent 7. Will Bo be able to prevail in a match he can’t possible prepare for?

 

HELL IN A CELL

Silent vs. Thoth

- Thoth was the top wrestler in the long surviving stable the Clan, until Silent came along. Silent drove Thoth to abandon the Clan which later disentigrated due to the slaughterer’s presence. Since then their rivalry has grown to the point where the only way to resolve things is in a big-ass cage! Hell in a Cell this Sunday!

Match Description – Regular DQ and count-out rules are not in effect. The ring will be surrounded on all sides by an approximately 20 foot tall, covered cage. There will be a 10-foot space between the ring apron and the side of the cage. The first man to score a pinfall, submission or knockout within the ring is the winner.

 

SWF HEAVYWEIGHT TITLE MATCH

El Luchadore Magnifico © vs. ?

- With all the feuds being blown off on this Sunday, who will the Heavyweight champ be facing? Well, El Luchadore Magnifico has issued a challenge to anyone in the SWF past or present, active or not, to face him. Who will answer the call?

[Guest BA_Baracus]

As Genesis continues on, we head backstage to the XF9 locker room, where Ash Ketchum sits, preparing for his SWF Tag Team Title Match. As he checks his wrists, though, he is joined by another man. He looks up and smiles at the other man, seeming very calm in the face of one of the toughest matches in his life!

 

Ash: Hey, dude. How's it goin'?

 

That other man is none other than El Luchador Magnifico, SWF Champion and friend of Ash Ketchum. His title is carried with him over his shoulder. He has yet to get ready for his match, but regardless, he looks like he's ready for it.

 

ELM: Muy bien, Señor Ketchum. ¿Y tu?

 

Ash: Bien, gracias. Did you end up showing up at FestiveXXX?

 

ELM: Si, Señor Ash-

 

Ash: Just call me Ash, Mags.

 

Ash smiles as Mags follows suit a second later, both men enjoying a moment together. One is SWF Champion, and the other one is one of the many hoping to take him down one day and claim the gold for themselves.

 

ELM: OK... Ash. You ready for your match tonight against "Los Gringos Muy Feo"?

 

Ash laughs as ELM taunts his opponents for tonight, but his response is quick and not that witty.

 

Ash: Hell yeah. I don't know if I'll win, but I gotta try.

 

ELM: Good to hear, señor.

 

They briefly stop talking for a second, the crowd cheering a little in the background before Ash Ketchum responds with a question of his own.

 

Ash: So... that challenge... what did you say? Anyone in the SWF or JL... at any time? Are you sure you wanna face Cutthroat?

 

ELM, Ash, and the sold-out crowd all laugh at the prospect of Cutthroat and ELM in a match together. Well, he said ANYONE...

 

Ash: But seriously... hold on a sec. I have an idea. What do you say to this...

 

 

 

 

Ash Ketchum vs. El Luchador Magnifico for the SWF Title... tonight?

 

The crowd pops like crazy in the background, on their feet, the proposition of an ELM/Ash match too much for them to take! ELM ponders it for a second, then delivers his reply.

 

ELM: Sorry, Ash, but the challenge has already been accepted.

 

The crowd quiets to a murmur upon hearing that, saddened that now will not be the time for that.

 

Ash: Oh...

 

ELM: Sorry, Ash...

 

Ash: Who is it?

 

ELM: I don't know...

 

Ash pats ELM on the shoulder, looking dead serious at first, but then, he breaks into a smile, almost laughing as he looks up at ELM, and quickly, he puts his finger on ELM's title and presses against it, smiling and chuckling to himself for a second while ELM looks a bit confused.

 

Ash: Don't worry, dude, it's OK. You better win tonight, 'cuz after Clusterfuck, I wanna face you, one-on-one, for that title. Besides, it'd be a great way to kick off my third year in the WF... as SWF champion.

 

The crowd begins to "OOOOOOOOHHH!!!" as the two men stare each other down in what appears to be an INTENSE~! moment.

 

ELM: We'll see, Señor Ash... we'll see...

 

ELM smiles after his comment, followed by Ash as both men let out a quick laugh.

 

Ash: Yeah, Mags... now, go get ready so you can kick some ass. ¡Ciao, amigo!

 

ELM nods and walks off, leaving Ash to himself again, and he goes back to his pre-match preparations, smiling and humming a small, unnoticable tune as we head toward our next match...

[Guest BA_Baracus]

“Open Your Eyes” by Goldfinger blares in the background finally coming to a stop as SWF Genesis returns from the commercial break. The live crowd lets out a gigantic cheer as the camera move down to the commentary booth, which contains everybody’s favorite heavy hitter, Mark Stevens and his cohort in commentary bliss Bobby Riley. Stevens brings his right hand up to his headset pushing it closer to his ear while Riley just nods his head as if to say, “yeah this is Genesis what were you expecting”.

 

“What an UNBELIEVABLE ovation from this capacity Canadian crowd!” Yells Grand Slam Mark Stevens as he stares into the camera, facial expressions proving just how excited he is. “I’m just in total disbelief here with the reaction that this crowd is giving!”

 

“Well come on Stevens. I mean this is the biggest event of the year. Every year except our first, SWF Apocalypse comes and passes leading into this event…”

 

“Very true Bobby…” Replies Stevens clearing his throat. “In the Beginning, its date was Sept. 29th, 2002. Its place was the PNE Coliseum in Vancouver, British Columbia, Canada! Its etymology is Latin, from the Greek word gignesthai, which means to be born. Webster’s defines it as coming into being but we’ve given it a new purpose… And tonight we can no longer talk like its glory has not arrived upon us, for now this name defines a different new beginning of sorts… a time of birth and renewal for our Smarks Wrestling Federation… a new year… a new era… a new S – W – F Genesis!”

 

The crowd is STILL roaring in approval after coming back from the break as Bobby sighs and rolls his eyes in disgust as the cheers begin to lessen. They’re still extremely loud but Riley speaks up over them. “Etymology… you couldn’t just say origin could you MARK.”

 

Mark just ignores his counterpart and quickly checks his notes. “Everyone already knows this jam packed card up and down but there are so many questions. Who is the World Heavyweight Champ El Luchador Magnifico facing.”

 

“Or where the hell is my “Superior One” and yours, if you promise not to hog him… Tom Flesher.”

 

Mark tries to completely ignore the veiled comment but stumbles a little over his words. “Uh… And what will happen when Silent and Thoth meet again for the first time one on one in nearly a year… within Hell In A Cell.”

 

“And where Flesher is.”

 

“Or can Edwin fend off his longtime friend now turned bitter rival Chris Raynor.”

 

“Need I say it again Mark.”

 

“If there is a god… NO. We’ve got Bo versus a second mystery man and they’re the newest M7 member… whoever that is. Axis makes his in-ring return against his fellow aussie Sacred and Chris Wilson takes on the man whose career and life we ALL thought he ended, Divefire.”

 

“But apparently the fire still burns.”

 

“XF9’s Tod deKindes’s first defense of his newly won US Title is against the M7’s Annie Eclectic and Jay Dawg fights Ced Ordonez non-title in a hardcore match.” Mark takes a quick breath and continues on. “And even more is still to come before that as Frost and TNT -” but Riley interrupts. “That’s the M7’s Chilly Chilly Bang Bang.” Stevens turns his head giving Bobby a quick glance. “And Ash and Xero - ” but he gets interrupted again. “That’s the XF9 Pokefreak… I don’t mean it in a good way and Zero.” Mark bores a hole into his commentary partner before continuing. “Duel over the Tag team titles tornado style…”

 

“What, did I do something wrong Stevens?”

 

“… But now we move onto the shows opening match. Where two of the newest WF roster members make their debut against each other in the biggest Pay Per View of the year.”

 

“These guys have had a longstanding feud in the JL but I don’t know much about them except for what I’ve seen just recently and the report I got on them. Still Mak Francis must be better than that Canadian joker since he’s the Franchise!”

 

“Well if you did your homework you’d know more about them. CIA has been called “The Dream” during his JL tenure and yes Mak Francis goes by the alias “The Franchise”. They’ve been going at it for over 3 month with CIA defeating Francis for the World Title ending his month long reign and with the match score virtually tied this is the match they’ve been waiting for. One match… the first man to two falls by pin fall, submission or knockout… AND OPENING SWF GENESIS!”

 

“Boy did that video before the match have nice production value. It tells the tale of their JL feud well from what I’ve read…” Adds Riley. “…But why make Francis jerk the curtain, he’s Franchisable!”

 

Mark just blinks and lets yet another asinine comment slide. “… On that note I think we should bring up the complete rules of this match. Disqualification’s and count-outs are in effect. Submissions, pin falls and knockouts all count as “falls”. Being disqualified will result in a fall being subtracted from your total and the first wrestler to score 2 falls is the winner.”

 

As the heavy hitter finishes his statement he and the crowd are forced to get ready… because Disturbed’s “Down With The Sickness” begins to blare over the PNE Center’s PA system.

 

** Are you ready? **

 

“This contest is a TWO OUT OF THREE FALLS MATCH!!” Bellows Funyon over the music and background voiceover.

 

** Are You Ready?! **

 

 

 

 

 

 

** CAUSE THE FRANCHISE IS HERE!!!! **

 

“And here he is making his debut into the Smarks Wrestling Federation. THE FRANCHISE!”

 

And as the self-proclaimed and I guess now by Bobby Riley “Franchise” enters the arena through the curtain, he is equipped with a microphone in hand. The crowd is pretty hyped up after the video package and gives him a mild to healthy amount of heat for his first WF match but apparently Mak hasn’t received the reaction that a Franchise deserves as he has a look on his face that says “This crowd of Canadian losers must be drunker than normal to not give me more heat”. Funyon starts to do his intro but Francis raises his hand causing him to stare quizzically as Mak keeps taking small steps to the end of the stage. Funyon begins again but Mak raises his hand once again and then pauses on the ramp way, ice blue shades hiding his eyes, which dart back and forth before he signals to the tech guys that he wants his music cut. Immediately following this action, Francis looks out over the crowd and begins to speak.

 

“You fans here in the PNE Coliseum are going to witness the birth of my SWF wrestling career. You should be honored that I’m giving you the chance to see me do what I do, probably with a grade 3 concussion but you know what I just realized… you’re all Canadian and even though you’re not worthy of my time, I’ll put on a good show because I can. Now Funyon you may continue.”

 

“It’s true you know, after his last JL match he walked out with a grade 5 concussion but he’s still in the ring because he’s Franchisable!”

 

Grand Slam just rolls his eyes and mumbles some incoherent words about Bobby and douche bag as Francis walks down the aisle looking at a few of the signs in support of his nemesis while Funyon is finally allowed to introduce him. “Making his way to ringside from Philadelphia, PA… weighing in at 225 pounds… “THE FRANCHISE” MAAAK FRAAANCIIISsssss!”

 

As Funyon finishes the WF crowd responds to Mak’s short speech. Some give him boos, others give him more boos and surprisingly the fan reaction is pretty loud. But that probably has more to do with his opponent being Canadian and maybe just maybe because it’s Genesis III. Francis gets to the bottom of the ramp and hops up onto the apron, before taunting a particularly rowdy front row fan in full on corporate Rock mode with the bring it hand signal. Mak quickly enters through the second and third ropes as the overweight Canadian in a double XL SWF shirt gives him a piece of his mind.

 

“What a thunderous reaction for Mak. The fans here in Vancouver love him.” States Riley after the showering of praises… uh… yeah praises that it. “Are you kidding me?” asks an incredulous Mark Stevens who has a look that says “by the end of the night I’m sure to flip shit on Riley once”. “What’s there not to like?”

 

“And a hearty fuck you too.” Responds Francis pointing at the obese fan who he had been jaw jacking back and forth with.

 

“That might be one reason. You can get away with saying anything at a Pay Per View now days.” But Bobby has a different opinion as always. “I don’t see the problem… when did a heart felt F-bomb become the be all end all of bad taste. These Canadians are just too sensitive.”

 

Suddenly the lights in the arena change slightly, and everything acquires a red tinge…

 

“Bah, my eyes…”

 

As the SmarkTron flickers to life, portraying a Canadian flag, flowing in the wind, and the instrumental accompaniment to 'O Canada' playing.

 

“O CAN – NADA!!!!!” Starts the crowd in unison just before…

 

** BOOOOOOOOOOOM! **

 

A bright red rush of pyro shoots up along the stage, glittering points of red light slowly drifting down from above.

 

“…And ears, damn CIA and his flashy entrance.”

 

A voice rings out, accompanied by the opening riff to 'Secret Agent Man', and the emergence of a masked figure, microphone in hand.

 

"Ladies and Gentleman of my homeland!" C.I.A. poses for a moment, basking in the cheers that are directed towards him. “Buy yourself a beer, because this match isn’t about a belt or anything like that. It’s about me and that man in the ring! One on one, mano a mano for the chance to say who the best REALLY is!" Making his way under the bottom rope, C.I.A. rolls in to the center of the ring, coming to his feet and extending his arms out to the sides, Canadian flag dangling from the undersides of each arm, before bringing the microphone to his lips and tossing his head back one last time. "It’s definitely all about pride but don’t fret cause I’ll still give you all a show. Because I’m here and it’s clear all you people understand my CANADIAN STYLE!" removing his jacket, C.I.A. hands it to an attendant outside the ring, along with the microphone in his hands, taking his place in the center of the ring with Francis and referee Eddy Long.

 

“And what a debut for CIA who is a two time JL World Champion and quite frankly he was the man to beat in the JL.”

 

“Well Mak had the JL World Heavyweight title for a month I think? Plus he’s Franchisable.”

 

DING! DING! DING!

 

Mak Francis and CIA stand toe to toe, neither man backing down and nothing to stop the on coming conflict. Grand Slam Mark Stevens in the background yelling. “It’s finally time folks and it’s sure to be a classic like all of Genesis III. It’s actually going down. What a way to open Genesis, with two young guns that have all the promise in the world…”

 

You can feel the tension as CIA says something to Francis through his mask and Francis responds quickly his head moving back and forth. The crowd is completely behind CIA as the camera pans away giving a wide shot of the ring and the PNE Center. Waves of flashes occur behind them at this photo op as they still trade barbs about pride. They come even closer together if that’s possible, literally or figuratively it doesn’t matter as they are nose to nose in the center of the ring.

 

“…It’s “The Franchise” and “The Dream” two out of three falls!”

 

The two men back away from each other two steps before colliding together like clash of the titans, in a collar and elbow tie up. The pair of grapplers’ stress and strain but no one budges. Neither man moves an inch under the intense pressure until the finally break the tie up.

 

“It’s a stalemate. And I can see why as these two rivals are so similar it’s scary. How can two people so different be so close in strength, speed and stamina?”

 

“I asked myself that same question. How could a Franchise be anything like CIA?” Quips Riley as Mak and CIA circle each other getting a feel for the ring.

 

“Well actually if you want to get technical about CIA is an upstanding person, which Francis isn’t. And he does hold a size and weight advantage of about 2 inches and 12 pounds, which leads into a strength advantage since he has more leverage.” And as Mark Stevens finishes his statement Francis and CIA come together for a second time in a collar and elbow tie up - but this time the Canadian wonder gains the advantage pushing Francis back until his back hits the turnbuckle. Referee Eddy Long comes in between the two men asking for a clean break but doesn’t get it ** SMACK~! ** as Francis gets in a cheap and hard slap to the dream. The Bobby Riley proclaimed Franchise immediately lunges his upper torso under the ropes and rubs his eye feverishly as if to say that he’s got something in it. The Canadian won’t move back so Francis pulls Long in between them saying “Thanks I had something in my eye.”, before he pushes Long towards CIA clamoring for a rope break. Long is forced to back CIA away from the corner while Francis detaches himself from the ropes smirking until Long turns around going back into his spiel.

 

“What was that Riley?”

 

“Mak was just taking a break from the tie up because he got something in his eye.”

 

“He’s stalling and everyone in the arena knows it.”

 

Francis finally ends his little act and circles the ring with CIA again and they come together in a third collar and elbow tie up which CIA takes control of again – but this time CIA takes the move up into a high wrist lock before pulling Mak’s arm down and behind him into a hammerlock. “CIA takes control with a hammerlock…” come the voice of Mark Stevens as Francis searches for a means of escape and finds it by pushing his arm away from his back and rotating clockwise out of the hammerlock. Now back in the high wristlock Mak spins twisting his opponents’ arm in an arm wringer. “…But Francis reverses into an arm wringer.” CIA pats his shoulder, as Mak appears to be going for a second arm wringer – but the Canadian comes up with a counter pulling Francis in close and burying a closed fist right into his face that drops him to the mat. The Dream still has his other arm entangled with Francis’s so as he scurries up off the mat CIA yanks him in the opposite direction which sends him careening into the corner HARD after a scintillating Irish whip. The Franchise hits the turnbuckle and flips from upside down to right side up and back again before taking a step out of the corner and finishing his tribute to Flair by falling flat on his face and rolling out of the ring.

 

“A great opening set of counters there to set the tone of this match but CIA uses that leverage advantage again to outdo the Franchise on this occasion.”

 

“Smart move by Mak to roll outside and regain some focus.” Adds Riley for once saying something useful. “But CIA is right after him sliding through the ropes.” Francis takes off running and CIA follows suit. As Long ** ONE ** starts the ring out count ** TWO ** the two men circle about half of the squared circle ** THREE ** until Mak dives into the ring and pops up to his feet awaiting the arrival of CIA who doesn’t disappoint and re enters the ring. Mak drops down to the mat hitting a double axe handle in between the shoulder blades before laying the boots to the head and back of his rival. “He fell for it. And Mak’s cleaning his clock good now.”

 

Francis stops his attack for the moment only to pick the Canadian wonder up and attempt another arm wringer, which he succeeds in doing. Francis yanks down on the arm a few times for added effect – but CIA tucks and rolls backwards, loosing Francis’s grip before kipping up onto his feet and reversing into another arm wringer of his own. “Bah another wristlock for CIA doesn’t he know any other moves.” Mumbles Riley not in the spirit since CIA is one upping Mak so far.

 

Mak pats his shoulder twice as CIA yanks down before crouching and rolling forward, thusly loosing CIA’s arm wringer and moving into a headstand flip and ANOTHER arm ringer of his own. “WOW! What a stylish counter… now that’s Franchisable!” Exclaim Riley who is now wet… with sweat from all the high intense lighting. “You’re so biased I’m surprised you’re not a figure skating judge for the 2004 Olympics.” Shoots off Stevens. After Francis connects with two high impact strikes, using the point of his elbow, onto the back of CIA’s neck and shoulder, he builds on the arm wringer by turning his back to the ropes and lacing his right arm with the Canadians. Then he intertwines their lefts arms fighting to backslide CIA over for a pin. Even with Francis’s leverage advantage, from initiating the move, CIA and Francis are even as the both strain to get the other man other top. A mask covers the Canadians face, but you can see him start to lose the struggle as he lets up ever so slightly allowing Mak to finally drop down to his knees pulling his opponent over top and onto his neck and shoulder.

 

ONE…

 

Francis puts his feet on the second rope!!

 

TWO…

 

 

 

 

THREE!

 

DING! DING! DING!

 

“The winner of the first fall “The Franchise” MAK FRANCISssssss!”

 

“What a cheater Riley. I can’t believe that Long didn’t see his feet on the ropes.”

 

“It’s not cheating unless you get caught Stevens. That’s all I have to say on that.”

 

“Well both men now have ten seconds until they can go for their next pin fall. Lets see what happens in this time.”

 

Francis releases the pin and both men stand. CIA starts shaking out his arm as Francis just shrugs and smirks. As Long reaches the count of ten both men come together in a collar and elbow tie up. CIA quickly moves into a side headlock and from there spins around behind Mak trying to take him to the mat with a go behind takedown – but the Franchise gets a standing switch into a German suplex – but as Francis lifts him up CIA blocks by rapping his foot around Mak’s leg before falling forward and rolling through into a single leg crab torquing the right knee. Francis quickly claws and drags himself over towards the ropes to get a break and succeeds.

 

“Another nice set of counters by these two leads into a single leg crab by CIA. They know each others moves and tendencies so well after all their encounters.”

 

Eddy Long counts ** ONE ** for the break and CIA immediately releases the hold. As CIA backs away Francis gets up shaking out his right leg before walking in for another collar and elbow tie up – but the Canadian dream has a different idea as he side steps and drives his foot into the stomach of the Franchise doubling him over in perfect position for a DDT, which he hits. CIA goes for the cover as Long hits the mat.

 

ONE

 

TWO

 

“No, Mak kicks out but not with as much authority as you might expect. I guess he’s really felling the affects of that last Junior League match with Matt Myers.”

 

“Come on he’s wrestling with a grade 7 concussion cut the man some slack.”

 

“Didn’t you just call it a grade 5 concussion?” Mark quickly asks. “I’m sure I said 7 Stevens.”

 

Francis gets up, definitely a little woozy from taking that DDT and blindly wobbles in to knock CIA down but his attack gets dodged and he receives an Irish whip into the far ropes. Mak comes bounding back and CIA hits the mat forcing the Franchise to hop over him. On the return Mak look for a clothesline but CIA slips the high impact lariat and buries his knee DEEP into Mak’s midsection. Francis hunches over in anguish but not for long as CIA lifts up his chin and delivers…

** SMACK **

 

“WHOOOOOO” responds the crowd after the nasty knife-edge chop. Francis covers his chest but that allows CIA to plant his foot a nail him with a right-handed shotei! “WHOOOOO” which gets the same response from the crowd. CIA goes back to the knife-edges as he connects with not ** SMAACK ** one but ** SMAACK ** two and gets a big time “WHOOOOOOO” in return. Francis takes the shot like a champ as they back him into the corner. You can tell that shotei to the head took its toll but he fights back with knife-edges of his own. ** SMAACK ** and the response is a loud “BOOOOO”. Once again he attacks ** SMAACK ** and the response is still the same “BOOOOO”.

 

“Look now they’re trading knife edge chops in the center of the ring!”

 

“It’s a CHOP FEST!”

 

As Stevens speaks the Canadian crowd “WHOOOO’S” and “BOOOO’S” accordingly. “CIA hits one… and now Mak brings the pain back… but CIA connects again… and Mak lands another viscous chop!”

 

But this time as Francis follows through on his chop CIA absorbs the blow and plants his foot absolutely flooring the self proclaimed Franchise with a roaring elbow. Francis is practically out on his feet but CIA playing to the crowd waves his arms about in a foolish manner before taking a fake swig of Canadian brew and grabs his nuts leading into the one and only bionic elbow. Francis goes down like a sack of potatoes or would have if CIA hadn’t held him up. The Canadian Dream grapevines his leg and signals to the crowd who are now even louder than before… as he hits a forward Russian leg sweep that practically kills Mak’s head.

 

“VIIIIIIIIIIIIA RAAAAIIIIIL!!” Shouts Mark doing now what his name suggests he is as Bobby Riley can only look on in horror.

 

** WHAAAAAAAAM **

As Long drops to make the count it finally registers in Riley’s head to be upset. “NO! Kick out!”

 

ONE

 

 

TWO

 

“Francis is as dead as a doorknob Bobby.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THREE!

 

“And the winner of the second fall C… I… Ahhhh!”

 

Francis just lies on the mat trying to regain his senses as CIA waits for the ten count to expire. Francis rolls to the ropes at the count of four and tries to shake off the cobwebs while pulling himself up but he’s in a world of hurt. At the count of ten CIA is on him quicker than a hiccup and clotheslines him over the top rope and to the outside.

 

“Now these to combatants are on the outside of the ring tied at one fall a piece and you have to wonder just who is going to win the deciding third fall.”

 

“Mak’s money in the bank Mark. I’d bet my autographed Tom Flesher Ego Buster shirt that he’ll pull it out… and you know how much I love Tom.”

 

Mak and CIA are on the outside brawling but most fans might see it as CIA hitting Mak… then Mak stumbling away similar to a punch-drunk boxer. The Franchise is definitely in trouble so he rolls back into the ring as CIA charges to attack.

 

“That’s the first time I’ve ever seen someone bail INTO the ring.” Quips the heavy hitter but Bobby Riley is none to pleased with his antics. “Oh get over yourself Mak’s just being innovative! I mean we can’t all be HOSSES~! Like somebody sitting next to me.”

 

“Just shut up for once Riley.”

 

Mak pops up quickly in the ring and staggers a bit before holding his head. CIA slides back into the ring and quick as a cat turns Francis around kicking him in the gut…

 

“NO! Don’t do it CIA… Mak has a grade 10 concussion!” And Mark Stevens sits bewildered. “Now I’m sure you said it was grade 7 before.”

 

“Shut up Mark and pray that Mak counters.”

 

Snitches in the front face lock…

 

…

 

And gets dumped on his head… by Francis as he counters with a Northern lights suplex. Mak holds the bridge but since bridging on a head that’s been concussed is not a good idea he bridges on his shoulders.

 

ONE

 

 

TWO

 

 

 

 

 

 

TH-

 

“CIA is bridging up easily with the lack of leverage Francis has.”

 

And the Canadian wonder is almost bridging out of Mak’s pin – but Mak just releases his waist lock and rotates while sidestepping locking on an inverted back chancery also known as a dragon sleeper. CIA starts to struggle but you can tell that Francis though of this counter to CIA bridging out of the Northern lights in advance. He grapevines the leg in and in an instant has dumped his nemesis on his head with a dragon sleeper russian leg sweep.

 

“WHAT A MOVE!” exclaims Riley jumping up from his seat in the booth. “That’s why he is Franchisable baby!!”

 

“That’s not even a word Riley!”

 

“Sure it is Webster’s defines it as a person who is far and away better than a normal wrestler.”

 

Stevens just sighs into the mic . “I give up…”

 

Francis shakes his head for a few seconds before he slides over to CIA and goes for a lateral press.

 

ONE

 

 

 

TWO

 

Francis hooks the leg and pulls it over… so much so that RVD can’t even compare.

 

 

 

 

 

T

H

R

E

E!

 

 

“TWO!” shouts Eddy Long and the crowd erupts into CIA chants. “C-I-A! C-I-A! C-I-A!”

 

“What heart shown by CIA there. This match is all about pride.”

 

“I can’t believe he kicked out…”

 

And the self-proclaimed Franchise is thinking the same thing as he looks like he’s about to cry. From his fetal position Mak yells “FUCK” and crawls over towards the ropes. Francis pulls himself up to on shaky legs but falls back down to the canvas as CIA finally starts to stir. “Oh no that border hopping jackass is starting to move again.” And Mark replies by saying. “It’s just a testament to his fighting spirit.” The crowd continues their chant for CIA as Mak attempts to pull himself up again and succeeds. Francis stumbles towards the center of the ring as CIA is up to one knee and – “WHOOOOO” gets a shotei to the chest for his troubles. Mak takes a few steps back and gets clocked by a snapping right jab… and another one… and as Mak falls back leaning against the ropes. The re-energized Canadian feeding off the crowd waves his arms about in a foolish manner before taking a fake swig of Canadian brew and grabs his nuts before rushing forward to hit a Bionic elbow – but Mak ducks and low bridges him over the top rope. Francis points to his head as he yells insults at the crowd - but little does he know that CIA, who held onto the top rope is standing on the apron. The crowd explodes as they see CIA land on his feet and Francis turns to see why…

 

Only to get a glimpse of CIA as he springboards off of the top rope and over Mak’s head, sliding down his back to the mat grabbing a hold off him on the way there. CIA pulls at Mak’s legs trying to complete the springboard sunset flip but Mak latches onto the top rope for dear life until referee Eddy Long kicks his hands off the rope!!!!

 

ONE

 

“What a Springboard Sunset-flip powerbomb from CIA. THAT HAS TO BE IT!!”

 

“Shut it MARK!”

 

TWO

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

T

H

R

E

E-

 

“TWO! TWO!” exclaims Eddy Long.

 

“YES! The Franchise lives on.”

 

Mak counter the Spinning heel kick by ducking and as CIA places his foot back on the mat Francis puts him in a front waist lock and tosses him overhead with a belly-to-belly suplex. CIA is down on the mat facing the turnbuckle and Francis get and idea. He slowly walks over and grabs at the turnbuckle, untying it as Eddy Long comes over to try and stop him.

 

“Francis is just lucky Long can’t disqualify him for untying that thing.” As Long attempts to put the turnbuckle pad back on Francis gets that all too familiar smirk on his face and rolls out of the ring towards the announce table. Immediately Riley knows what’s up and offers the Franchise his chair, which he gladly accepts rolling back into the ring.

 

“You’re a deplorable human being, do you know that Riley.”

 

“Please that chair will be a collectors item after it ends CIA’s career. I’ll get to sell it on e-bay for big bucks or I could even start a Franchise shrine next door to my Flesher one.”

 

“You have a shrine to him?!”

 

“Doesn’t everyone?!?”

 

Mak stalks CIA, as the Canadian is pretty out of it after putting everything he had into that Springboard Sunset-flip powerbomb stands up blinking at the form of the Franchise who is slowly making his way toward him. With a burst of energy Mak dives at CIA with the chair – BUT MISSES as CIA side steps.

 

** CRAAAACK!! **

 

And that was all she wrote for Eddy Long as he gets cracked by Francis’s steel chair shot. Mak looks at the ref with wide eyes but as he turns around…

 

** CRAACK!! **

 

He gets the steel chair thrust kicked into his skull by the Dream. Francis hits the mat FAST as blood starts to leak from his forehead. But CIA is on the attack and couldn’t care less. He grabs at the knee of the Franchise and drops the point of his elbow to it. After repeating two more times CIA goes to the old fashion stomp him while he’s down technique. Francis pulls and claws his way to the ropes and CIA takes that as himk wanting to receive more punishment in his knee. The masked Canadian picks Mak up and places his leg in the ropes effectively tying it up before running to the far ropes and getting a full head of steam to nail Francis’s knee with a running low dropkick.

 

CIA grabs Francis out of the corner and Irish whips him to the opposite corner but Mak doesn’t make it as he falls halfway there. Finally CIA sees the chair that Francis brought into the ring with the intent to hurt and decides to do the same. He stands over Mak with the chair by his side and all the Franchise can do right now is stare up at the lights and hope for a nice sleep…

 

DING! DING! DING!

 

“What the hell?”

 

“I think… yeah he’s signaling to Funyon that CIA’s lost a fall. Eddy Long just disqualified CIA. Oh this is great!”

 

“You got the wrong guy Eddy it was Francis!”

 

“Pfft… just chalk that one up to human error.”

 

Funyon clears his throat and gets ready to speak. “CIA has been disqualified and per stipulation loses one fall!” And the Canadian fans boo like there’s no tomorrow, some even scream you screwed Bret whoever that is. The Dream looks shell shocked as he drops the steel chair and makes a beeline over to Eddy Long trying to explain what happened. Meanwhile Mak rolls onto his belly like the snake in the grass that he is before pushing himself up to his knees.

 

“Now CIA is down and most likely out. He’s been striped of his fall unjustly and is certainly flustered by this.”

 

“Well what did you expect Eddy to do. Someone hit him with a chair and when he woke up Mak was staring up at the lights, bloody, and CiA had the steel chair in his hand!”

 

“He hadn’t even used it, this is a disgrace and I’ve never seen anything like it in my time in the business.”

 

“You’re overreacting I’m sure you’ve seen SOMETHING like it.” Adds a sarcastic Bobby Riley.

 

CIA continues to try and reason with Long – but gets interrupted by a back waist lock from the Franchise who slowly made his way over there. Francis pops his hips and tosses CIA overhead in a textbook German suplex but he doesn’t let go as he drags them both to their feet going for another one – but CIA counters with a back elbow to the head which knocks the already having head trama Francis loopy before executing a standing switch. CIA lifts Francis up looks for a Release Belly to back suplex and gets it dumping Mak on his neck.

 

“Wait to keep fighting CIA. I know the odds are against you but I have faith.”

 

“I don’t. Mak’s going to win not only because CIA needs to get two falls and he only needs one but because he’s Franchisable.”

 

CIA stands up and pulls Francis with him breathing heavily. Eddy Long goes over to fix the turnbuckle pad just as CIA snitches on another back waist lock looking to dump Mak again - but Francis scores with a mule kick that goes unnoticed allowing him to counter into another German suplex this time releasing at the apex and dropping the Dream on his neck and over onto his belly.

 

“I think I’ll call that a Filthy German™. See I even trademarked it!”

 

“You are a fool Bobbi.”

 

“NEVER call me Bobbi.”

 

“I’ll call you jackass if I feel like it.”

 

Meanwhile in the ring Eddy Long gives up on the turnbuckle and comes back to check the in ring action. Mak kicks at the limp body of CIA until he rolls over onto his back. Francis then takes this opportunity to stumble his way over to the turnbuckle where he briefly goes outside before climbing the top rope signaling for an elbow drop. But as he jumps his knee gives way and Mak falls face first to the canvas.

 

“What a turn of events all the work to Francis’s knee paid of in spades and maybe just maybe CIA has a shot to come back!!”

 

“How can you be happy about this? Mak’s eating carpet and not the good kind either.”

 

CIA sensing that the time is now slaps the mat rallying the crowd behind him as he tries to get up. Mak is still down on the mat as the crowd goes into a full-blown “CIA” chant. The masked grappler uses their cheers to gain a small surge of energy and gets up to his feet but he looks like those last Germans gave him a concussion. Bending over he picks Mak up to his vertical base as well bending his knee and lifting him into the air before dropping Francis across his own knee. Everybody in the crowd cheers like crazy as he points to the top rope and starts to stumble over there. Francis rolls around on the mat yelling for Eddy Long to come over and as he gets there CIA has just made it to the top rope all he needs to do is turn around to set up his Air Canada finisher… but Francis pushes Long into the ropes causing CIA to crotch himself. The crowd lets out a sympathetic noise in unison as Mak rolls over and pushes himself up. He slowly slides across the ring taunting fans as he hobbles until he makes it over to the turnbuckle. He climbs to the second rope…

 

“Oh my god do you think…”

 

Hooks on the front face lock…

 

“Yes I can only hope!”

 

Cradles the leg…

 

…

 

 

…

 

 

But CIA nails him with a shotei to the chest that knocks the Franchise to the floor before he can complete the Super Franchise Tag. CIA pushes himself up off the turnbuckle to his feet and turns backwards before…

 

Jumping…

 

…

 

Soaring…

 

…

 

And falling…

 

…

 

Performing a quarter twist in mid flight, landing on his Mak with a top rope elbow drop AIR CANADA!!! And the crowd just goes nuts!!!!!!

 

“NOOOOOO!”

 

“YESSSSSSS!”

 

CIA gets a smirk on his face as he moves towards Mak’s legs and stands up twisting them into the shape of a four before falling back to the mat.

 

…

 

 

And the Franchise for the first time in his career taps out to the pain causing Eddy Long to ask for the bell!!!

 

DING! DING! DING!

 

“The winner of the third fall tying the score back at one to one is C… I… Ahhhhh!”

 

Eddy Long begins to count, as the two men lie on the mat neither really moving. CIA starts to move but it’s too late as the mandatory ten count is started by Long.

 

** ONE **

 

** TWO **

 

** THREE **

 

** FOUR **

 

** FIVE **

 

** SIX **

 

** SEVEN **

 

** EIGHT **

 

And CIA is standing up while Francis has pulled himself up to the second rope. CIA charges forward going for a clothesline – but Francis ducks underneath and hooks the right arm…

 

THEN THE LEFT!!

 

And pulls the tired warrior down to the canvas!! Long hit the mat and starts the count.

 

“BACKSLIDE~!”

 

ONE

 

 

 

Francis puts his feet on the second rope!!!!

 

TWO

 

“Not like this… not again…”

 

“It would only be fair Mark.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

T

 

H

 

R -

 

And then Long sees Francis’s feet on the ropes and kicks them off stopping his count!!

 

“I just knew it couldn’t end like that…”

 

“DAMMIT LONG!” says Bobby Riley voicing the PG-13 version of Mak’s yelling.

 

Francis gets up irate at Eddy Long for stopping the count and argues with him to no end until he turns and sees a Roaring elbow heading straight for his face – but Francis parries pushing CIA away and picks him up in a fireman’s carry for a Death Valley Bomb – but two things happen. One his knee starts to give out and two that allows CIA to counter into a Crucifix pin!!!!

 

ONE

 

 

 

TWO

 

 

 

THREE-

 

“NO! Mak gets out somehow someway.”

 

“Thank you GOD!”

 

CIA just can’t believe it he’s tried everything to get the win. Everything except…

 

CIA gets a great idea as he locks his legs under Francis’s and turns facing the exposed turnbuckle. Then he catapults Mak into corner which he hits face first. The Franchise stumbles out of the corner and must surely be dead but CIA moves to his side and grapevines his leg setting up the Via Rail!!!

 

“THE VIIIIIIIA RAAAAAIIIIL! It put Mak down once and it’s do it again!”

 

But Francis scores with a back elbow to the face stunning CIA. Mak rotates clockwise and brings his right arm down around the neck of CIA.

 

Then he cradles the leg…

 

And with all that he has left lift him up and jumps into the air dropping CIA on his head and sending him to concussion junction!!!

 

“JUMPING FISHERMANSBUSTAH~!”

 

ONE

 

“Is it really over?”

 

 

 

 

TWO

 

“It better be!”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THREE!

 

Eddy Long looks over to the form of CIA as he has gotten his shoulder up but just a second to late.

 

“And the winner of this match two falls to one is “the Franchise” MAAAK FRANCISssssss!!”

 

The arena is stunned and so are the announcers as they can’t say anything.

[Guest BA_Baracus]

The camera returns to the PNE Arena, where the fans are filling the idle time by chanting "ANNIE SUCKS!" The fans on the opposite side of the arena respond, as always, by chanting "WILSON'S COCK!" They continue the chant for a few more seconds...

 

ANNIE SUCKS! WILSON'S COCK!

 

ANNIE SUCKS! WILSON'S COCK!

 

ANNIE SUCKS! WILSON'S COCK!

 

ANNIE SUCKS! WILSON'S COCK!

 

ANNIE SUCKS! WILSON'S COCK!

 

ANNIE SUCKS! WILSON'S COCK!

 

ANNIE SUCKS! WILSON'S COCK!

 

At the announce table, Riley sighs. "Mark, that chant is DISGUSTING, and security should put a stop to it immediately!"

 

"Oh, I wouldn't say that. Haven't you ever looked at Annie and thought, 'You know, it'd be...'"

 

Stevens looks over and sees Riley staring at him, his face a mixture of confusion and disgust.

 

"Oh, sorry. I forgot. Anyways, this next match we have coming up is..."

 

The lights go down, cutting Stevens off, and Funyon announces, "Ladies and gentlemen... A Few Minutes With Tom Flesher!"

 

The intro to "I Am The Man" by the Philosopher Kings plays, and the twin columns of blue pyro shoot out next to the curtain. As Flesher's entrance video plays on the SmarkTron, the pyro bursts into a blue explosion, leaving the stage cloaked in smoke. When the smoke clears, Flesher is standing on the stage, head turned to the side, holding his chin thoughtfully with the Light Heavyweight belt strapped around his waist. He begins to stride confidently to the ring, and when he gets there, he takes the Mic from Funyon and positions himself in the center.

 

"Ladies, gentlemen, and Canadians, let me start off by saying how upset I am over not being booked. It disappoints me greatly. I mean, it's an absolute travesty to have me unbooked on the biggest card of the year... and christ, especially in Canada! Canadians love me! Am I right?!"

 

The crowd responds to this obvious attempt for a cheap pop by showering Flesher with boos, which he accepts graciously by leaning back and soaking them in just like cheers. He makes a "keep it coming" motion, which prompts the crowd to boo even louder and burst into their "YOU SUCK DICK! YOU SUCK DICK!" chant. Flesher clears his throat and continues.

 

"Plus, it's Genesis! How can you not book Tom Flesher, TOM FUCKING FLESHER, Taamo himself, on Genesis? I mean, I REALIZE I've scared all the competition. I KNOW that all the light heavyweights who have been coming into the league since Ground Zero have been bulking up, because god forbid Stubby book them against me for the belt. And I know that I'm damn good looking. But people, come ON. It's GENESIS. I could have been booked against any NUMBER of people. Ced Ordonez... Divefire... Tod deKindes... Yes, I KNOW they were already booked, but it's ME. I take precedence over everything else! Christ, it's like Stubby forgets that."

 

"Well, Stubby can stop me from doing what I do best... dropping punkasses on their heads and stealing their belts... but he can't stop me from coming out here and giving the people what they want! And I know what they want... they want me! And they want...."

 

Flesher points to the entryway, and the truck takes their cue, starting up the music.....

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

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

 

The crowd boos loudly as Flesher looks to the entrance and spreads his arms wide, grinning from ear to ear. Wilson removes his sunglasses, nods at Flesher, and strides to the ring. When Wilson enters, Flesher says, "People, something interesting happened to me today. Christopher here came up to me backstage, and he said that he had an offer for me. 'Chris,' I said, 'why don't you come out and talk to me during my interview segment?' And he said he would. So Chris, thank you for being part of my few minutes on pay per view. Why don't you make your offer?"

 

Wilson clears his throat and says, "Well, Tom, I'd-"

 

"But wait a second, Chris. You know what? I think I have a counteroffer for you."

 

Wilson smiles. "Oh yeah?"

 

"Absolutely. Chris, I know you're in a bind for later tonight, and I know you're having trouble. I know this, Chris, because I know the Magnificent Seven needs a new leader. I would like to propose..."

 

The fans begin to boo loudly, seeing what's coming a mile away.

 

"I would like to propose, Chris, that I could become the new leader of the Magnificent Seven!"

 

The arena shakes with stomping and booing from the fans as Chris Wilson smiles.

 

"Tom... I came out here to make you an offer... and, you know what? You've made me an even better offer in return. Tom Flesher, I accept your offer to be the new leader of the Magnificent Seven!"

 

"Oh, and Chris?"

 

"Yeah?"

 

"What was it you were going to offer me again?"

 

Wilson's eyes dart around, desperately trying to cover. "Uh... I just... wanted you... to... second me in my match with Divefire. But now, you have a match to prepare for, so let's go, man! Go get ready!"

 

Flesher reaches out and shakes Wilson's hand, and as "I Am The Man" starts to play, the camera fades.

[Guest BA_Baracus]

So, if you can see ONE movie this Friday, see the Japanese period film ‘Strange Alien Menace Kung-Fu,’ starring former IGNWF star, Cyclone Comet!” an accented voiceover shouts over the riotous crowd, in an attempt to sell tickets for the soon-to-open theatrical masterpiece, but it is curtly cutoff with a loud…

 

*** BOOM ***

 

A wall of silvery pyro bursts from the stage, snapping viewers’ attentions back to the show of all shows, the event of all events, the gang-bang of all gang-ba--…er…SWF GENESIS! “Open Your Eyes” by Goldfinger blares from the PA system and the words “SWF TAG TEAM CHAMPIONSHIP” slink across the bottom of the screen, while the crowd breaks into a frenzy of cheers in the background! Two graphics appear onscreen. One of the tag champs themselves, Taylor Thompson and Frost, each man cracking their knuckles and polishing off their prized championship belts. The second image displaying the challengers, Xero and Ash, both possessing intense expressions on their ready faces. Above them, “SWF GENESIS” is printed in jagged red lettering and below, “CHILLY CHILLY BANG BANG VS. ASH & XERO” is sprawled in the same serrated font. The screen then cuts back to the amped arena with all sorts of signs from “FLIP ANNIE! FLIP!” to “FROST + EXPLODES~! = ESKIMO PIE!” dotting the audience. Suddenly, the familiar voice of Mark Stevens, barely heard over the raucous cheers, shouts as loudly as possible in hopes of being heard.

 

Stevens: “Welcome back, ladies, gents, and everything in between, to SWF Genesis! We’ve just gotten through a heated opener involving promising JL bumpees Mak Francis and CIA, but now we’re ready for the second match of the night, where the Smarks Wrestling Federation Tag Team Championships will be on the line!”

 

Riley: “The Cold Combustions. The Nippy Inferno. The Frigid Flames. Many names could describe the combined efforts of ‘TNT’ Taylor Nicholas Thompson and Frost, but the most common one, which will send fiery chills down all opposition’s spines, is Chilly Chilly Bang Bang.”

 

Stevens: “How do you say that sort of thing with a straight face?”

 

Riley: “Stow it, Mark. Where was I…? Yes… These two have been tearing it up in the SWF ever since winning the belts from Chris Raynor and Edwin MacPhisto a while back and, tonight, they defend their belts against the ‘Underpants King’ Ash Ketchum, and ‘He Was Finally Bumped? Really? You’re Kidding, Right? You’re Not? Wow.’ Xero.”

 

Stevens: “Indeed, Booby, indeed. However, you DID forget to note the lack of defenses that these two have put up as this will be their first actual ‘battle for the belts’ in roughly a month.”

 

Riley: “Well, you can blame THAT on lack of competition. Even now, their most challenging foes contain a pedophile obsessed with electric muskrats and a man who was in the JL longer than Suicide King can last in bed.”

 

Stevens: “I don’t want to know how you know that, but opinions are opinions and we’ll have to just get to the match if we plan on finding out who will reign supreme. We go now, to Funyon, who should be ready to announce our participants to the ring!”

 

The scene pans to the ring, where Funyon resides dressed in his usual K-Mart garb. He hurriedly acquires a microphone from his jacket pocket and raises it to his lips.

 

Funyon: “Ladies and gentlemen…the following contest is scheduled for ONE fall and is for the SWF Tag Team Championships! (cheers from the crowd) Introducing first…checking in at a combined weight of 563 pounds, wrestling for the Magnificent Seven, they are the TAG TEAM CHAMPIONS OF THE WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORLD (boos pipe up) ‘TNT’ Taylor Nicholas Thompson, Frost; together they are…CHILLY CHILLY BANG BANG!!!”

 

The arena lights fade into darkness and there is nothing. Then, lavender spotlights emitting from the ceiling aimlessly swirl around the arena as if they were two searchlights attempting to spot a pair of escaped criminals. The haunting initial beats of System of a Down’s “Toxicity” pulse from the loudspeakers and just as the pace picks up, the two spotlights rendezvous at the pinnacle of the entrance ramp where the hulking figures of TNT and Frost can be spotted with title belts slung across their shoulders! Frost simply gazes out at the audience, a single fist of pride raised in the air. Meanwhile, TNT saunters down the aisle-way, flipping off random fans and cockily rubbing his title belt against his pants as if to polish it. Frost meanders after his more energetic companion as “Toxicity’s” lyrics begin violating their way into the ears of spectators far and wide.

 

“Conversion, software version 7.0…”

“Looking at life through the eyes of a tire hub…”

“Eating seeds as a pastime activity…

“The toxicity…of our city…of our ciiiiity!”

 

The music picks up as the collective duo of Chilly Chilly Bang Bang reach the squared circle and each burly man steps up to the apron. Taylor holds up his shiny title for the crowd to observe, gaining a negative reaction from the heated Canadians, and then briskly steps through the ropes.

 

“NOW, WHAT, DO YOU OWN THE WORLD!?”

“HOW DO YOU OWN DISORDER!?”

“DISOOOOOOOOORDEEEER…”

“Now, somewhere between the sacred silence!”

”Sacred silence and sleeeeeeeeeeep!”

“Somewhere…between the sacred silence and sleeeeeeeeeep!”

“DISORDER!”

“DISORDER!!!”

“DISOOOOOOOOOOOOOORDER!!!”

 

A few blinding, white strobe lights begin to flash from who-knows-where and a sea of orange and icy blue pyrotechnics flow from the ceiling like wine. Frost thoughtfully stares into the abyss before finally steps over the top rope with his massive legs.

 

Riley: “Oh! My heroes!”

 

Stevens: “Well, these two are, lightly put, QUITE the physical specimens…but they HAVE been known to bend the rules a bit when necessary.”

 

Riley: “Man…they just do what they please, they’re gonna spread the disease.”

 

Stevens: “Why?”

 

Riley: “Because they wanna!”

 

Bobby raises a single arm, forming the “metal” symbol with his right hand.

 

Stevens: “…what?”

 

Riley: “Come on Marky Mark! Rock out to the Hives!”

 

Stevens sighs exasperatedly as both men taunt the audience for a moment more, until their music fades and a ring official enters to collect their titles. Frost stretches against a ring rope while TNT jabbers to his accomplice, either about a match plan or about his in-depth thoughts on “Blue Crush” after seeing it eight times in the theaters. The two continue to go through their pre-match rituals until, suddenly, an army of darkness invades the stadium. All of the young children in the audience (and TNT) let out cries of “I’m afraid of the dark!” Screams of overwhelming fear are quickly replaced by cheers as a few upbeat piano strokes sound from the speakers and a towering Pokeball, 2 stories in its immensity, appears on the Smarktron.

 

Funyon: “And the challengers, weighing a sprightly 468 pounds, accompanied to the ring by Mr. Nagasaki, the King of the DDT, and the Cerebral Prankster…XERO, and AAAAAAAAAAAAAASHH KETCHUUUUUUMMMMMM!!!!!!!!!!!

 

The Pokeball spins faster and faster. Legions of pyro sizzle from the roof, flare from the ground and blaze from the sides of the stage. The Pokeball on the Smarktron, now spinning at an unbelievable rate, is abruptly replaced by the sight of Ash Ketchum’s head. The Undercard King winks to the crowd, who pop with astonishing gusto. A spotlight shines down onto the entrance ramp, where the Poke Freak turns to face his fans from his Jericho-esque pose, an anxious Japanese companion in the form of Mr. Nagasaki scurrying behind him. Ash trots down the ramp in a merry fashion, slapping the hands of the fervent fans that line the aisleway like cocaine on Al Pacino’s desk in an outtake of “Scarface.” Billy Crawford’s “Pokemon Theme” soon fades out and Ash grins enthusiastically, pointing back up the ramp to await his partner’s arrival. The cheery tune that went hand-in-hand with Ash’s influx fades into the halfway mark of Megadeth’s “Trust,” where the pace of the grinding melody has already picked up a notch. Several members of the gathered throng form a mosh-pit at the side of the stage. Clothed in a white vest and see-through shirt, bald head smooth enough to reflect the ceiling attached red and white strobe lights creating a path for his entrance, the King of the DDT, Xero, focused beyond belief, strides down the entrance ramp, not even seeming to notice the hyperactive form of Ash. Xero passes by his partner and Ash lets out a quick “Wait up!” as he skips after him. Both men approach the ring as the audience starts a mild “X! F! 9!” chant and they each hop up onto opposite sides of the ring apron. Ash vaults up a turnbuckle, raising his arms in the air. Xero leapfrogs into the ring yelling at TNT and Frost while rubbing an invisible belt around his waist, as if to say “YOUZ TITLEZ WILL BEINGZ BELONGINGZ TO XERO!!!” Taylor, a bit offended by the aggressive vibe he’s receiving, fails to wait for the ring bell and instantly pounces on Xero with a Lou Thesz Press! He hastily drives his knuckles into Xero’s forehead with authority! Ash observes his downed partner and descends from the turnbuckles. Frost thinks fast and hastily paces across the ring, each of his steps clearing nearly a yard. Frost arrives at the post where Ash is still partially perched and the grappler’s jaw drops as he realizes that he has nowhere to go but DOWN.

 

Stevens: “OH MY GOD! Frost just shoved Ash off that turnbuckle to the outside not-so-protective protective mats!”

 

Ash topples awkwardly onto the thinly layered outskirts of the ring, plummeting into the ground with a sickening “thud.”

 

Riley: “You act like Frost is Satan or something Mark…it was all in good fun.”

 

Stevens: “GOOD FUN!? He could have injured the man before the match even got underway for Christ’s sake!”

 

Riley: “I’m sure he’d donate some money to whatever hospital Ash were to stay in if such a thing happened.”

 

Stevens: “That’s about as likely as Suicide King stabbing a shovel through a power line while digging up a basketball hoop.”

 

Riley: “…”

 

Stevens: “…”

 

Riley: “…”

 

Stevens: “…”

 

Riley: “…”

 

Finally, Frost retreats to his corner as Ash slowly recovers. Turning his attention to the Dynamite Warrior, the ref angrily shouts threats of disqualifications with title changes or possibly threats of nude pictures of Janet Reno; it is fairly unclear, forcing TNT to remove himself from Xero. The lightweight manages to do a bit of brain-housecleaning while the ref forces Thompson away. The two men drop into readied crouches, and prepare to go all out in what is the biggest event of the year!

 

Stevens: “All right! Let’s get this thing underway, because I’m ready, Bobby is ready, and the audience is sure as hell ready!

 

Riley: “And I even heard Mr. G has stopped masturbating and diverted his attention to being ready!”

 

*** DING! DING! DING! ***

 

At the sound of the bell the two grappler’s charge at each other like a pair of sumo wrestlers and lockup in an elbow and collar tie up.

 

Stevens: “An old school lock up starts us off proper as both men jockey for position.”

 

Riley: “The quick pre-match strike by the champs still has to have Xero dazed, not to mention Thompson’s superior size and strength.”

 

TNT lowers his shoulder and presses forward, forcing Xero to back up into the lower left ring corner. Referee Sexton Hardcastle yells at TNT to make a clean break and he unfolds from his opponent with his hands held high in the air. Xero returns the gesture in good faith and promptly receives a sharp knee to the midsection.

 

Riley: “They don’t pay me the big bucks for nothing.”

 

Stevens: “If you consider twelve dollars and a bowl of soup ‘the big bucks.’”

 

Ash’s forearms appear on the apron and he slowly pulls himself up to slump down in the upper left ring corner. Mr. Nagasaki tends to Ash while imparting mystic words of advice.

 

Stevens: “For our newer viewers, Mr. Nagasaki was Ash’s first manager and now retakes his position to replace the increasingly pregnant Misty.”

 

TNT rocks Xero with two European uppercuts and then takes a step back to allow Xero to stumble forward out of the corner. TNT takes a fist full of the man’s tights while applying a front facelock. Thompson jerks Xero off the mat and holds him straight up in the air for a long second before dropping him back with a ring-shaking slam.

 

Stevens: “Vertical suplex by TNT as the champs take the early advantage.”

 

Riley: “Only Ketchum would trade in a sexy young woman who was all the way live for a shriveled old Japanese man who was better off dead.”

 

Stevens: “And here I thought ‘shriveled old Japanese man’ was on your Christmas list.”

 

Riley: “My aren’t we catty this evening.”

 

Stevens: “Here’s another note for you, never refer to me as catty.”

 

TNT saunters up from the canvas and flexes his left bicep to elicit jeers from the crowd. Taylor laughs at the simpletons and leans over to pick Xero up. Suddenly, Xero bolts up and collars Thompson around the neck while snagging a piece of his pants.

 

Stevens: “INSIDE CRADLE OUT OF NOWHERE!”

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

THR-

 

TNT fidgets loose and flings Xero off of him. Both men race to their feet, but the much quicker Xero reaches his first and deftly cinches Thompson’s left arm and sweeps him off his feet with an armdrag. The fans pop excitedly as Xero sets in an armbar on the mat.

 

Riley: “That boy needs to take things more seriously. I would have hoped that Frost’s in-ring intensity would have rubbed off on him by now.”

 

Stevens: “Despite a good in-ring mix the two men still drastically clash outside the squared circle in personality.”

 

Riley: “Well, Frost comes from a little bitty country and TNT’s a little bit rock ‘n roll.”

 

Stevens: “Folks, we reach a new low as Bobby stretches to fit in THAT joke.”

 

Riley: “Anything I can do to lower the bar.”

 

TNT fights to get his feet underneath him and powers up. Xero gamely tries to hold the armbar, but Taylor breaks by whipping him into the ropes. Xero twists to take the strands in the back and ricochets off with a pivot to strike with a spinning heel kick. A ready Thompson grabs the leg and flings it to the side, spinning Xero around. The lightweight wrestler twists around to face front again and is floored by clothesline!

 

Stevens: “Thompson walks over to make the tag, but Xero is not long for being off his feet.”

 

Xero scampers across the mat as Frost methodically steps over the top ring rope. Ash is still sitting woozy in the corner, but accepts the tag and rolls in under the bottom rope and to his feet.

 

Stevens: “The two men with the real issue in this contest in the ring now and have a good old stare down.”

 

Riley: “Ash believes that Frost ran him over with a car a few months ago, which is preposterous considering that Frost would have to, you know, register the fact that Ash exists.”

 

Frost lumbers toward Ash with his arms out like Frankenstein. Ketchum drops to the mat and barrels rolls to the side and behind the monster. Before Frost can turn around, Ash rotates into a crouched position and grips Frost by both ankles. He gives a stiff jerk and the Icelandic Iceman topples face first to the mat!

 

Stevens: “And the fans show their appreciation for Ash taking the advantage as he applies a spinning toe hold.”

 

Riley: “You sure that isn’t the Mewtwo Ankle Whacker or some other dumbass name?”

 

Frost lifts his free right leg and jams it into Ash’s chest. Ketchum trips back into the near ropes and mysteriously drops to his knees.

 

Stevens: “Thompson just hit Ash with a cheap shot from the apron!”

 

Riley: “What you call a cheap shot, I call a well timed strike and what the referee doesn’t see can’t hurt you.”

 

Hardcastle questions TNT about the blow that occurred with his back turned and Taylor throws his hands up in the air pleading innocence. Xero steps up to the bottom rope and points an excusing finger in the explosive one’s direction as the crowd chips in with their two cents.

 

Riley: “And don’t think Xero wouldn’t have done the same thing if it had been Frost near him. When did he become the fan’s darling?”

 

Frost pulls himself up by the nearby second rope and lopes over to Ash holding the back of his head on the canvas. Frost sends two stiff stomps into the crown of the man’s skull before bending down to pick him up.

 

Stevens: “Ever since Apocalypse when Chilly Chilly Bang Bang took out Xero and Danny Williams in a dumpster match, which led to that team splitting up.”

 

Riley: “Which in turn led to Xero latching onto Ash’s coattails after he won a title shot off of Frost in an atrociously botched singles match. When you have to ride on the Poke Freak’s coattails, you know you’re in trouble.”

 

Frost hauls Ash up by his right shoulder and shoves him back into the near turnbuckle with a dull thud. Ketchum slumps down dazed as Frost freight trains in with a shoulder block to the chest. Ash ‘oophs’ in pain but has little time to recover as Frost takes his wrist to whip him to the opposite corner. Ketchum reverses the move on instinct alone and sends Frost for the ride to the corner. Ash charges and promptly eats boot from the more than alert tag champ!

 

Stevens: “Ketchum down and holding his jaw. With speed less than Xero’s and strength less than Frost’s, he’s going to have to rely on his wits here with the big man.”

 

Riley: “In that case, he’s screwed.”

 

Frost leans over and dead lifts Ash up with one hand wrapped around his shoulder and the other between his legs. He holds the grappler across his chest and points a finger at Mr. Nagasaki on the floor prior to slamming Ash across his knee in a backbreaker. Ketchum flops off to the canvas like a rag doll and Frost rises to his full height while still pointing a finger at Nagasaki.

 

Riley: “You better watch yourself old man! Frost’s going to take you out right after he finishes off your prize student.”

 

Stevens: “Showing that Ash is not the only person who wants wrinkled old Japanese men.”

 

Riley: “That was one time, when he was pointed to the wrong massage parlor.”

 

Frost sends a boot down into Ash’s gut for good measure before striding over and tagging TNT back in. Thompson vaults over the ropes with barely contained energy and skips over to Ash’s prone form to come crashing down with a knee to the chest. He covers.

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

TH-

 

Stevens: “KICK OUT! TNT hooked the leg, but Ash is still a little too fresh.”

 

TNT brings Ash up with a waistlock and swings him up on his side and off his feet. Thompson makes a half turn in order to shoot Xero an evil grin and then hammers Ketchum down with a side slam! Taylor grabs Ash by the thighs and pulls his legs back in making another cover.

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

THR-

 

Stevens: “A weaker kick out that time! Ash rolls over on his stomach and TNT applies a Boston Crab to continue the wearing down.”

 

Thompson sits squarely on Ash’s spine and rears back with all he’s got to wrench the legs. Ketchum wakes up with a high-pitched yell and pounds the mat in pain. Hardcastle drops down and asks him if he wants to quit, but the resolute fan favorite shakes his head emphatically ‘no.’

 

Riley: “Smart move by Thompson here, keep the bigger slower man in the ring and wear him down. Ash is a brawler who WISHES he was a high flyer and taking out his legs is sound strategy.”

 

TNT slightly releases his right arm and points at Xero while screaming wildly. A startled Hardcastle makes his feet and runs over to find Xero standing stupefied in his corner. Frost pops into the ring at top speed and leaps into the air with a leg drop to the upper part of Xero’s back. The boos reign down as Frost slips back to the apron undetected and raises his right fist up to the audience in firm defiance.

 

Riley: “More sound strategy.”

 

Stevens: “Or as I like to call it, blatant cheating. And THAT is something the champs work better than almost any team I’ve ever seen.”

 

Riley: “They would take that as a supreme compliment.”

 

Xero frantically points for Hardcatle to turn around, but he is way too late. TNT ratchets the legs and bounces up and down on Ash’s back. Ketchum lifts a very groggy hand while keeping his face buried in the mat. Sexton rushes back over to take his previous position.

 

Riley: “HE’S GOING TO TAP! IT’S ALL OVER!”

 

Ash slaps his arm down in front of him and drags himself barely an inch forward. He windmills around his other arm and pulls himself another scant inch toward the ropes.

 

Stevens: “Submitting isn’t in the man’s vocabulary! Ash is going to fight to the last and is doing his dandiest to reach the ropes for the break.”

 

Riley: “Go ahead and take the coward’s way out.”

 

TNT rises up from Ash’s back and hauls him back out to the middle of the ring. Thompson’s eyes go wide and he shouts at the ref to look at Xero again. Sexton turns his head slightly, but waves Thompson off and goes back to checking on Ash. Xero takes the opportunity to climb to the top turnbuckle and flies off with a missile dropkick the side of Thompson’s head!

 

Stevens: “TNT CRIED WOLF TOO MANY TIMES! XERO BREAKS THE BOSTON CRAB!”

 

Hardcastle leaps to his feet startled as Xero rockets up, pumping his fists in excitement. The fans roar for him to turn around and he spins about to get waylaid by a big boot.

 

Riley: “There’s the hunter to kill the wolf. How dare Xero try to cheat?”

 

Stevens: “Or out cheat the cheats, as it were.”

 

The ref puts his arms up into Frost’s chest to force him back to the apron. Xero pulls himself up by the top rope as TNT totters up. He sees Xero and blindly charges to hit a clothesline. Both men topple over the ropes and splat to the floor in a heap. Frost pushes Hardcastle out of way and drops an elbow on the still out Ketchum.

 

Riley: “In Iceland, falling out of the ring is just as good as a tag.”

 

Stevens: “Frost goes to work on Ash and Sexton is going to allow it…”

 

Riley: “He’s powerless to stop it.”

 

Stevens: “Frost peppers Ash with body shots, using his amateur boxing prowess to soften up the ribs.”

 

Xero and TNT tow themselves up by the ring apron. Thompson shoots a look over at Xero and shocks him with a knee lift! Xero turns and stumbles away, but TNT follows and gets a side headlock. He darts forward and bulldogs Xero down! Mr. Nagasaki runs around the ring corner and strikes a martial arts pose as TNT stands up. Thompson puts his hands up and backs off with a smug smile on his lips.

 

Riley: “What a nice young man, refraining to obliterate the old fart.”

 

Stevens: “Nagasaki might be old, but he’s spry and trained in several forms of combat. It was him who gave Ash his high impact and unorthodox style.”

 

Riley: “I hope he takes it back.”

 

Frost backs Ash into the corner with continuous shots to the ribs and caps off the flurry with a knee to the side. Ketchum labors for air as he clutches his battered side and tries to keep standing on his rubbery legs. TNT retakes his position on the apron while Nagasaki helps Xero up and back to his corner.

 

Stevens: “Frost hauls Ash out of the corner and into a press slam position…he tosses him into the air…thrusts out a knee…GUTBUSTER!”

 

Riley: “Hell of a maneuver! Frost constantly reminds us all just how strong he is.”

 

Frost shoves Ash gruffly off his knee and stand up with a snort. He shoots an eye over at the unsteady Xero in the opposite corner and holds out a hand to TNT. He slaps it with gusto and steps into the ring, eying the downed Ash mischievously.

 

Stevens: “TNT tagged into the ring…and I’m sure that there’s nothing but more pain in store for poor Ash.”

 

Hundreds of possible offensive maneuvers sail through Taylor’s mind, but he settles on a simple yet effective one and begins driving boots into the Undercard King’s aching back! Ash yelps out with each stomp he receives and rolls over to the ropes, grabbing at the bottom one, and slowly forging past Thompson’s boots to his feet. The referee quickly separates TNT back from Ash, in order to give the Pokefreak a few seconds to recover on the ropes. Thompson taps his foot on the mat in impatience and eventually charges at Ash with a shoulder block to the ribs! Ketchum grimaces in pain and doubles over in pain. TNT takes advantage of this opening, cinching Ash’s cranium in between his legs. Having latched on the standing head scissors, TNT grasps Ketchum in his arms and flips the former SJL World Champion up onto his shoulders. Taylor remains standing for a full ten seconds, spinning around with the dazed Ash on his shoulders, simply to rub it into the audience’s faces. TNT finally stops short and with his back facing the turnbuckles, he falls rearward, hurling Ash up into the air! Ketchum sails almost a yard, before the inevitable crack of ribs snapping across a top turnbuckle pad ring throughout the arena. Ash teeters over to the mat, now just a limp pile of Jell-O.

 

Stevens: “MY GOD! TNT just hit a move that I didn’t even know existed! He got Ash into a powerbomb position, only to fall onto his back and send Ash plummeting chest-first into that ring post!”

 

Riley: “And this is why TNT is one half of the tag team champions Marky Mark. He knows his strategy as he furthers the bludgeoning on those prone and slightly injured ribs!”

 

Stevens: “Ash’s ribs, back and legs are all being decimated so far in this bout…but you have to wonder, when push comes to shove, how will it affect the outcome of this match?”

 

Riley: “Bruce Campbell runs in and slices everyone up with a chainsaw?”

 

Stevens glares with a concerned expression at his co-commentator and quickly presses a button on Riley’s monitor, switching it off.

 

Stevens: “No more Evil Dead for you. This is the biggest ppv of the year after all.”

 

Riley: “Never stopped me from goofing off before.”

 

TNT capitalizes on his devastating move, by kipping to his feet and driving a knee into the Ash’ back! He repeats three more times with increasing thrust and then trots over to his corner to make the tag. Ash searches deep down into his battered and bruised form, trying to acquire some sort of energy jolt…and surprisingly manages to do so! Ketchum spins up to his feet and lunges at Taylor with a surge of vigor, leaping into the air and plunging both of his legs into the back of TNT! He continues the motion, flipping backwards all the way over, until he promptly lands on his stomach and clutching his legs in pain. Taylor stumbles into his corner and Ash knows that this may be his only chance to make the tag. He presses himself up solely on arm strength, the rest of his body much too thrashed to do him much good, and slowly, SLOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOWLY begins to creep towards his corner, where Xero eagerly awaits with his hand outstretched.

 

Stevens: “Ash just sent TNT reeling with a dropkick! Now if he can just make the tag…”

 

*** SLAP ***

 

The crowd bursts into cheers for all of a second, before realizing that Ash is still a full yard from Xero, while it is FROST who has been tagged into the action! Frost steps over the top rope and lumbers over to catch Ash from behind!

 

Stevens: “Just a few more steps…”

 

*** CRACK ***

 

“GAH!”

 

The meaty sound of solid boot snapping across the back of a thigh is heard as Frost clips Ash from behind and halts his progress towards his awaiting partner. Frost leaves Ash to moan in pain for an instant and spins around to face Xero. Xero hollers out some encouragement to Ash, but his words are cut short as Frost revs back and throws his arm forward with all of the momentum he can muster! His clenched fist aims for Xero’s heart, but the King of the DDT dodges the aforementioned Touch of Frost by pivoting to the side! He then hops up to the top rope, springboards off and lands onto Frost’s shoulders! He entraps the Icelander’s head between his legs and falls backwards to complete his backflip and rip the grappler off his feet! Frost’s skull bounces off the mat and he flips onto his back. Xero darts back to his corner before the ref can scold him!

 

Stevens: “A hurricanrana puts Frost down and now Ash is army-crawling on his belly as fast as he can, desperately needing that hot tag!”

 

Riley: “That was terrible! Xero should have been disqualified on the spot! I don’t care WHO you are, the illegal man should NEVER enter the ring without a tag being made.”

 

TNT, slipping into panic mode, realizes that Frost is nearly out cold and hops through the ropes in order to do something, anything, to prevent the tag from being made! He rushes past his downed partner to his fallen opponent and, just as Ash is mere CENTIMETERS away from reaching Xero, Taylor grabs a hold of his leg to drag him from his home corner. He positions his leg over Ash’s right leg, preparing for a makeshift Indian Deathlock! Thompson falls backwards, wrenching Ketchum’s ankle as much as he can and then stands back up, readying himself for another wrench.

 

Riley: “This is beautiful! TNT is a genius, running in the ring while still illegal like that!”

 

Stevens: “But you just said that no one should ever enter the ring witho--…”

 

Riley: “I was obviously drunk Mark.”

 

Stevens: “…that was about one minute ago!”

 

Riley: “When you’re drunk, logic and/or time aren’t factors.”

 

Stevens: “…lousy hypocrite.”

 

Hardcastle finally starts to enforce some authority by running over to TNT and informing him to release the hold.

 

“TNT! Let go and remove yourself from the premises of the ring! You are NOT the legal man!”

 

*** SLAM ***

 

“GAH!”

 

TNT retorts by simply falling backwards a second time, really putting pressure on the leg with his modified deathlock. He reaches his feet a third time; his leg still intertwined with Ash’s and readies himself for a third wrench…

 

“LET GO OF THE HOLD NOW!”

 

“I have no clue what you’re talking about Sexton! Which hold are you speaking of?”

 

*** SLAM ***

 

“GAH!”

 

“…the one that you’re applying! You twit!”

 

Taylor once again brings himself up to a standing position.

 

“OOOOOH. And why would I do that?”

 

“BECAUSE YOU’RE NOT THE LEGAL MAN!”

 

“Well…fine, fine.”

 

*** SLAM ***

 

“GAH!”

 

TNT twists Ash’s ankle a final time and whispers something to the recovering Frost before exiting to the ring apron. Frost pays Ash little mind as he simply steps on Ketchum’s vulnerable ribs as he shuffles over to the corner to tag TNT! Taylor enters with a cocky grin on his face in turning to the referee and sticking out a tongue of defiance.

 

Riley: “Sexton can no longer limit the actions of TNT as he is now the legal man in this match! Not that he was doing to well with that before.”

 

Stevens: “Taylor grabs Ash by the hair and lifts him to his feet, but Ash is a bit more conscious now and collects just enough energy to deliver an elbow to TNT’s gut, doubling him over!”

 

Thompson’s cocky nature is instantly washed away as he leans over in anguish, clutching at his gut. Ash knows that he must follow up quickly and does the best he can in grabbing Taylor in a seamless side headlock. He sprints forward as fast as he can, leaps from the mat, and lands on his behind, driving TNT’s head into the mat with a bulldog!

 

Stevens: “Chilly Chilly Bang Bang have obviously possessed the advantage for quite some time, but Ash keeps coming back with small bursts of energy! Will this surge be the one that allows him to make the tag?”

 

Ash lies on his back for a few seconds while TNT grasps at his face and grovels on his stomach. Ketchum’s mind is a soggy blur, but he’s abruptly snapped back into reality as his ears perk up to the ever-so persistent clapping of encouragement courtesy of Xero! Ash spots his accomplice just a yard away now and rolls over on his stomach to crawl what seems to be the longest yard of his life…

 

Stevens: “Just a little more Ash! Come on!”

 

Riley: “But wait! Frost has dropped off of the ring apron, and is jogging around the ring as quickly as possible!”

 

Stevens: “Almost there…”

 

*** WHIFF ***

 

Ash lunges out in desperation and swings at Xero’s hand, but just as he does so; Xero falls from the ring apron! Frost has yanked him off by his ankles! Xero lands on his feet as naturally as a cat would, but Frost gives him no time whatsoever to react. He lurches forward and plants Xero down with a stiff clothesline!

 

Stevens: “Frost cuts off the tag and hammers Xero with the Hell Freezes Over!”

 

Riley: “This is getting me more excited than that YMCA orgy a while ba--…er…nevermind.”

 

Stevens: “Wait, WHAT!?”

 

Riley: “I said nevermind! Focus on the match!”

 

Frost spits onto the fallen form of Xero and looks to return to his corner, but the familiar posture of Mr. Nagasaki pounces in front of Frost to block his path! The wiry senior acquires a prominent karate stance. Frost smirks off the old man and forms a sarcastic kung fu stance of his own. Frost lets out a few “HIYA!’s” and the like, but the obviously offended Nagasaki lashes out with a swift roundhouse kick to the wicked snowman’s head! Frost hits the floor as the audience explodes with appreciation. A flabbergasted Frost attempts to comprehend what just happened, but a reminder is given to him in the form of another karate kick to the side of his head!

 

*** CRACK ***

 

Crimson fluid amply flows from Frost’s ear and Mr. Nagasaki refrains from beating on Frost anymore, instead helping Xero up to the ring apron.

 

Riley: “Mr. Nagasuckmydick or whatever just interfered in this match! Where in the hell is the ref!?”

 

Stevens: “Well, Sexton is promptly paying more attention to the action IN the ring, where Taylor has lifted Ash to his feet and taken a hold of his wrist!”

 

Thompson tightens his hand around the arm of Ash and hurls him into the ropes! Ash gets about four feet, before his legs give out and he topples to the ground completely winded.

 

Stevens: “Ash is lacking his usual gusto here, and REALLY just needs to catch a break!”

 

TNT glances around the ring for a moment, wondering what the hell to do before an almost seeable light bulb illuminates above his head!

 

Stevens: “TNT makes the cover!”

 

Riley: “This is it!”

 

ONE!

 

Riley: “Yes…”

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

Riley: “Yes…”

 

 

 

 

 

 

THRE-

 

Riley: “NO! FuX0r!”

 

Stevens: “…what?”

 

TNT, a bit frustrated, hammers two elbows into Ash’s ribcage to wear him down just a tad more and once again hooks the leg for a cover!

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

Ash kicks out barely after two this time, obviously possessing more energy.

 

Riley: “Ash just won’t DIE! Damn him!”

 

TNT, terribly aggravated at this point, viscously jerks Ketchum to his feet and jams him into a standing head scissors! Taylor wastes no time in hastily hooking Ash’s arms, readying the Pokefreak for a taste of Dynamite! Taylor flips Ash up to the powerbomb position about to deliver the Tiger Driver…

 

*** SLAP ***

 

TNT has become oblivious to the space between he and the faces’ corner, with Xero close enough to reach out and slap Ash’s arm to make the tag!

 

Stevens: “TNT was just about to hit Dynamite on Ash, but his attempts are futile as Xero is now the legal man!”

 

The lively form of Xero glances behind him, making sure that Frost is still downed from those concussion-inducing kicks at the hands of Mr. Nagasaki. Seeing that the Icelander is still recovering, Xero leaps up to the top rope in one fluid motion and reverberates off, soaring forward and delivering a kick to Ash’s back! Ash grimaces slightly, but the real punishment is bestowed on TNT, who is forced onto his back by the dropkick’s momentum! Ash, still set up for the Dynamite, drops to the mat with his BUTT landing right across TNT’s chest! He rolls out of the ring to gain a much needed break with TNT left in the capable hand of his partner.

 

Stevens: “This is just the window of opportunity the challengers have needed! Frost is out! TNT is dazed and Xero is fresh as a daisy!”

 

Riley: “Then you must be wearing nose plugs, because I can smell the stench from here.”

 

Both men in the ring race to their feet, but TNT is quickly jerked off of his with an armbar takedown. Xero releases and the sprint up commences again.

 

*** WHAM ***

 

Xero scores a second armdrag and Taylor rolls to his rear and backs up into the near corner, begging off. Xero shows no mercy as he dives into Thompson’s chest with a seated dropkick. The fan noise grows deafening as he makes the cover.

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

Stevens: “KICK OUT! Look at Thompson hugging those ropes like a lost lover.”

 

Riley: “Take any advantage you can! TNT needs to slow Xero down and bide time for Frost to recover.”

 

Hardcastle stands between Xero and TNT as he lies in the ropes. Mr. Nagasaki rubs Ash’s shoulders while he rests on the apron and misses Frost stumbling to his feet and back to his corner, holding his battered ear and wiping off the small stream of blood dripping from it.

 

Stevens: “Xero sidesteps the referee and is trying to pry TNT off those ropes.”

 

Riley: “You might want to try greasing him butter first.”

 

Stevens: “Well, that’s a pleasant image.”

 

Riley’s face takes on a strange sense of whimsy as he contemplates that scene.

 

Xero grapevines TNT’s legs and slinks his arms around his pits in a full nelson to break him away from the bottom rope. Xero rolls over on his back and bridges up for a makeshift pin.

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

Thompson shifts his weight to the left and the two grapplers tumble to their sides.

 

Stevens: “A very innovative full nelson with bridge there for the pin attempt. Next to Ash, Xero has to be one of the most creative ring technicians in the business.”

 

Xero lets go of the full nelson and releases the legs to bolt to his feet. TNT scampers up winded and pivots around to take a spinning heel kick full in the face! Xero launches himself in the air and comes crashing down with a spinning leg drop!

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

 

THR-

 

Stevens: “Kick out! But those quick strikes are doing nothing for Thompson’s stamina and now he is the one in need of a tag.”

 

TNT quickly hits his knees and scoots toward Frost with his hand out. Frost shakes his head, still trying to clear up his hearing from the blows to the ear, and reaches out as well. Xero snags a handful of Taylor’s dreadlocks and holds him in place writhing away.

 

Stevens: “Of course, Bobby we have to wonder how Frost’s balance and equilibrium is going to be affected by that damaged ear.”

 

Riley: “Damn it, Mark, I’m a wrestling announcer, not a doctor!”

 

Xero drags TNT back into the center of the ring and palms the back of his head like a basketball. The lightweight marvel juts out his right knee and plunges Thompon’s face the short distance into it. TNT ricochets off with his eyes rolling into the back of his head and flops face first to the mat.

 

Stevens: “Face breaker by Xero and it sounds like you’re starting to worry a bit for the champs here, Bobby.”

 

Riley: “Please, this is a cake walk. Like the greatest tag champs ever are going to fall so shortly into their reign to two negligible humans, let alone wrestlers.”

 

Riley takes a roll of Tums out of his pocket and eats the whole stack with a gulp.

 

Xero pulls TNT up and deftly puts him in a front facelock while seizing a handful of tights. He falls backwards with a snap, slinging Thompson over his head and onto his back with a thump!

 

Stevens: “Snap suplex and here’s the cover!”

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

 

THRE-

 

Riley: “SHOULDER UP! THAT’S A SHOULDER AND IT’S UP! IT’S UP!”

 

Stevens: “Calm down, Bobby, Hardcastle agree with you, but that doesn’t daunt Xero for a second.”

 

Xero hauls TNT back to his feet and spins behind him to cinch a rear waistlock. Xero hunkers down to slam Taylor over for a German suplex, but TNT catches him in the temple with a desperation elbow. He throws another, but Xero lets go and TNT twirls around from the momentum of the missed strike. Xero stops his opponent short with a front waistlock and bends his knees for leverage in a belly-to-belly suplex. However, he can’t quite hook Thompson tight and he executes a standing switch and tries a German suplex of his own. Xero goes to break with an elbow he learned from TNT, but the Explosive One gives as good as he gets and lets go to send Xero spinning around from the force of the missed shot. The lithe grappler rides the momentum around and grabs a front facelock out of nowhere and rides his building speed back to the canvas with a beyond vicious DDT!

 

Stevens: “THE PURGATORY! What a breathtaking sequence! This could lead to new champs!”

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

 

 

THREE-

 

Stevens: “NO! DAMN! FROST RUSHES IN FOR THE BREAK!”

 

Riley: “YES! MAYBE THAT WILL TEACH THAT ODD COUPLE THAT THEY CAN’T BE A TAG TEAM!”

 

Hardcastle admonishes Frost for charging in and dropping an elbow on Xero to break the pinfall. Nagasaki jumps up on the apron to put his two cents in and Frost lumbers over to take issue with him, as Hardcastle can do nothing but lose ground against the chugging behemoth.

 

Riley: “Get that wrinkled old prune off the apron! He has no right there!”

 

Stevens: “Like Frost has any in the ring!”

 

Riley: “At least he’s a legal participant in this match and not part of Ash’s community service work from the old folk’s home!”

 

The two men swat at each other at arms’ length with Sexton trying in vain to keep them apart. Frost makes a powerful lunge, sandwiching the ref between he and Nagasaki, and bashes the old man in the face with an elbow. Nagasaki plunges backwards to the floor with Hardcastle hurtling over on top of him as Frost backs up.

 

Stevens: “FROST JUST KNOCKED HARDCASTLE OUT! THAT SHOULD BE A DQ RIGHT THERE!”

 

Riley: “What are you talking about? Nagasaki pulled him over the top rope to prevent the coming loss.”

 

Frost peers over at the heap of broken flesh on the floor for a second before turning around into…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Stevens: “PIKASLAM! ASH KETCHUM IS BACK IN THIS!”

 

Riley: “AND SHOULD BE BACK ON THE APRON!”

 

Ash kips to his feet after hitting the Olympic slam to the deafening cheers of the crowd. Their enthusiasm shifts to a staunch warning as TNT is back on his feet and charging hard. The quicker Ketchum sidestep Thompson like a matador and he soars head long into the near second turnbuckle!

 

Stevens: “TNT misses his spear attempt and gets a mouthful of turnbuckle padding.”

 

Thompson pops up ramrod straight and pivots to stumble back toward Ash like a zombie. With a showy flourish, Ketchum takes TNT’s head in a face lock for a split second before snapping him full force into the mat!

 

Stevens: “Thompson looks to be out of it again from a DDT! Ash is pointing to the near corner…LOOK!”

 

Riley: “Do I have to?”

 

The fans pop with increased vigor as Ash points out his recovered partner ascending the upper right ring corner. Xero faces into the ring and holds his arms out straight over his head while slightly bending his knees. Flashbulbs explode rapid fire as Xero launches himself into the air, flipping head over heels so swiftly one would be challenged to count the revolutions. Xero flattens out as he comes down and nears TNT’s prone form to complete the shooting star press! Thompson’s body bounces a full foot into the air and the ring vibrates like an earthquake hit it.

 

Stevens: “ABSOLUTE XERO, BUT THERE’S NOT REFEREE!”

 

Riley: “And whose Nagasaki’s fault is that? Not that it matters with THAT coming!”

 

A shadow slinks over the ring, causing a jubilant Ash Ketchum to spin around and face the upper left ring corner. In all of the chaos, the faces neglected Frost who has climbed to the top ropes and hunches over measuring his prey. Ketchum stands like the proverbial deer in the headlights as the near 300-pound human missile goes nuclear and aims for Ash’s head!

 

Riley: ‘LUCHA FROST IN THE HOUSE! TOP ROPE CLOTHESLINE!”

 

Ash flies off his feet and does just as many revolutions as his partner just accomplished before crash landing on his face. Impressively, Frost has the limberness to barrel roll across the mat and back to his feet to blindside the caught off guard Xero with another clothesline! Xero does his best Ash Ketchum impression by tumbling through the air like an acrobat and splatting flat out on the mat. Frost staggers like a drunk to his left and slumps down on one knee near the ropes, holding his bashed ear.

 

Riley: “HELL FREEZES OVER! AND I DON’T MEAN BY ASH AND XERO WINNING!”

 

Stevens: “But as you mentioned just a few second ago, there’s no referee!”

 

Riley: “AH HELL! I didn’t mean for that with Frost and TNT!”

 

Frost shoots a quick glance to the floor where Nagasaki and Hardcastle are only slightly stirring from their human heap. Frost trips to his feet and over to Xero.

 

Stevens: “Frost has been making great strides in boosting his agility and speed recently and they certainly paid off with that amazing feat there. However, it’s clear that Frost got lucky with the speed of that double clothesline maneuver, that busted ear is playing hell with his balance.”

 

Riley: “You can’t look at the positive of anything, Mark. Namely that Frost is going to deal out more punishment before that yahoo Hardcastle crawls back in to end this.”

 

Frost bows down to gruffly rip Xero up by the sides of his bald dome. He shoves the man into a standing head scissors and hooks both upturned arms around the elbows. With little effort, Frost smoothly flips Xero up to his chest.

 

Riley: “IT’S AN EARLY WINTER FOR XERO!”

 

Stevens: NO…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Frost teeters to his left, unable to hold his balance from whipping Xero up so fast due to his ear injury. Xero takes the opportunity to cross his legs behind Frost’s head and rana’s him over with authority! The fans pop madly once again as Xero rests on top of the big man’s chest.

 

Stevens: “WATCH OUT, XERO!”

 

Riley: “KEEP LOOKING STRAIGHT AHEAD, XERO!”

 

TNT glides up behind Xero and snakes an arm up around his shoulder for a half nelson. A bewildered Xero is easily pulled off of Frost and flung over in a half nelson suplex to kiss the crown of his head off the mat! A woozy Thompson fights to his feet while dragging Xero with him and makes with a standing head scissors of his own.

 

Stevens: “TNT READIES THE DYNAMITE! THIS COULD GIVE XERO A CONCUSSION AND…”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Riley: “DOUBLE FUX0R! IT’S ASH!”

 

Ketchum sails over his partner’s back to nail Thompson in the chest with a dropkick! TNT falls to his back and goes sliding out of the ring. Ash makes to give chase, but is scooped off his feet by Frost’s hands around his ankles!

 

Stevens: “Ash might have saved his partner, but Frost did the same in return! The Ice Giant is unsteady but climbing back up with Ketchum tight in his steely mitts.”

 

Frost clamps the stunned Poke Freak between his legs and wrenches him up to sit against his chest. Ash rides the momentum up and leans forward to wrap his hands around Frost’s almost caveman like large skull. He jerks himself up with a mighty tug and leapfrog’s over the Icelander with a sloppy, but effective hurdle. Frost stutter steps back dizzy and into the waiting arms of Ash for a Tazzmission! Ketchum gets the bulky grappler as high off the ground as he can and leaves his feet to send both of them plummeting to the mat.

 

*** SLAM ***

 

Stevens: “LULLABY OF JIGGLY PUFF AND THERE IS STILL NO REF!”

 

Riley: “Good thing, because I would hate to have Frost lose to something with that dumb name. HERE COMES TNT!”

 

Thompson slithers back into the ring with his precious tag title retrieved from the timekeeper’s table. He skates to his feet as Ketchum stands to meet him, but he can’t fend off the fierce hook shot to the ribs with the title belt! Ketchum lets loose a blood curdling scream of white hot pain as he drops to his stomach. Frost rolls out to the floor and musters his rapidly fading strength to yank a half alert Hardcastle up and bustle him under the bottom rope.

 

Stevens: “NO! IT CAN’T END THIS WAY!”

 

Riley: “THIS IS THE ONLY WAY TO END IT!”

 

TNT sits squarely on Ash’s back, making sure to grind into the rear of his ribcage, and pulls the man’s legs up to lock under his arms.

 

Stevens: “I’m not sure how long Ketchum can last! Xero has to make the save…and YES…he’s on his feet!”

 

Xero pulls himself up by the ropes and surveys the situation with increasing comprehension. He lunges to make the break, but is unceremoniously yanked off his feet and dragged to the floor!

 

Riley: “Frost saves the save and it must be Thanksgiving, because that turkey is done!”

 

Xero and Frost exchange punches on the floor, with the much lighter man surprisingly holding his own. Ash wails with a hoarse throat in the ring, his arms flailing for the much too far way ropes. Sexton lays half dead on the mat with only his head cocked a little up to watch the Undercard King. TNT cranks back on the legs and starts hopping up and down on Ash’s back. Finally, with one last screech, Ash shakes his head ‘yes’ and passes clean out. At the same instant on the floor, Xero ducks a wild haymaker from Frost and catches him with The Purgatory! The nearby fans’ cheers are short lived as they realize the match is over with Hardcastle limply waving his hand for the bell.

 

Funyon: “Here are you winners by submission and STILL the SWF Tag Team Champions, Frost and TNT…CHILLY…CHILLY…BANG…BANG!”

 

TNT stands up at the announcement and holds his arms high in the air to signal victory. The crowd boos morph into cheers once more as Xero jumps back into the ring and rushes toward Thompson!

 

Stevens: “This match might be over, but try telling Xero that!”

 

Riley: “Sore loser!”

 

The adrenaline surging Xero skips into the air and collars TNT with a high leg clothesline! Thompson falls back, but quickly stands up while holding his throat. Xero lands picture perfect on his feet and twists around to snap off another super enforced DDT!

 

Stevens: “A Purgatory for TNT and he goes bouncing out of the ring!”

 

Riley: “It might have helped if Xero would have done that while the match was still in contention! There’s no call for that now! Unnecessary roughness, personal foul after the play, half the distance to the goal!”

 

Xero shakes and twitches in the ring, needing someone else to pummel. He looks down at the rousing Ash.

 

Riley: “Williams and Xero were not strong enough to sustain a loss last month. Let’s see if Ash and Xero can. Although, Lord knows, I couldn’t stand to be partnered with that freak.”

 

Xero shakes his head wistfully and bends down to raise Ash’s arm up. The audience roars with approval and Xero helps Ash to his feet.

 

Stevens: “There’s your answer Riley as the team looks intact.”

 

Riley: “For now. We’ll have to see what a little backstage ‘discussion’ bears, just like last month.”

 

Stevens: “With both champs out, Xero might be able to mark this as a moral victory for his team…”

 

Riley: “But moral victories don’t get you to the pay window.”

 

Stevens: “True. Is a rematch in the future? Can the Ash and Xero union truly survive? Will CCBB want revenge for this post match attack?”

 

Riley: “Stay tuned to the second half of Days of Our Lives to find out.”

 

Stevens: “Or you could just keep watching Genesis as we prepare for the next contest in what promises to be a long night of hot action even more heated than what we just witnessed.”

[Guest BA_Baracus]

A shot of Vancouver’s PNE Coliseum is shown with a marquee displaying “SWF Genesis” shines prominently in the foreground before scrolling to the words “Sold Out!” The shot cuts to a backstage interview between Ben Hardy and the challenger of the next match.

 

Hardy: “Ced Ordonez, you’re about to face the Hardcore Champion, Jay Dawg, for his title. You’re record hasn’t been sensational as of late, so what are your thoughts before this match?”

 

Ordonez: “Ben, I’m well aware I haven’t been doing well since coming to the SWF, but I’m prepared to do the impossible here tonight in front of this Canadian crowd and beat Jay Dawg for his Hardcore strap. Yes, I’m probably at a disadvantage and yes, I’m out of my element, but that makes the pot even sweeter. Here, at Genesis, the biggest SWF event of the year, Ced, and you can put that in all caps, C-E-D is going to make himself known. Vancouver, get ready for a mark out moment!”

 

With that, Ced drapes a purple towel over his head and makes his way to the ring. The camera cuts to a shot of the ring as Funyon begins his announcing duties.

 

Funyon: “The following contest is a hardcore rules match and it is for the SWF Hardcore Championship! Introducing first, the challenger, from Sacramento, California and weighing in at 203 pounds, CED ORDONEZ!”

 

“Esaka?”, Ced’s old SJL theme begins to play as he lights dim and Ced walks out in a new pair long purple tights bearing a black, white and silver cross design along the right side. A spotlight shines down on him as quickly surveys the crowd before throwing his towel into the audience and jogging down the aisle. He slides into the ring and salutes the crowd before stretching out in his corner.

 

Stevens: “Ced with a new look here for this pay per view event, and I’ve got to say it’s very becoming of him.”

 

Riley: “It’d be more suitable if he came wheeling out an IV and a stretcher, because he’s about to be brutalized from pillar to post.”

 

Stevens: “Well, this match is guaranteed to be brutal knowing Jay Dawg is involved… but this can be Ced’s big break.”

 

Riley: “Yeah… he’s about to have the biggest of his bones broken!”

 

Stevens: “Lord knows that I find Ced one of the most talented this fed has seen, and it’s good to see him back.”

 

Riley: “Meh… he best go as fast as he can.”

 

Funyon stands in the center of the ring, finally letting Ced to finish his bit. He’s kind of surprised that the pyro’s haven’t exploded yet. He looks around for approval to continue and finally gets it.

 

Funyon: “And his opponent! He hails from Vancouver, British Columbia!” A fairly loud pop is heard for the hometown but ends quickly as Funyon continues. “He stands at Six feet Four inches and weighs in at 250 pounds! He is the leader of the Creative Control and the SWF Hardcore Champion! JAMIE ‘JAY DAWG’ DRAZON!!”

 

A mixed reaction of cheers and boos for the current King of Hardcore kick up… but no music hits the speakers, no lights, no fancy pyro. Absolutely nothing.

 

Stevens: “Well that’s weird. Jay Dawg is usually proud to make his obnoxious entrance.”

 

Riley: “Something is wrong.”

 

Stevens: “Wait. I’m getting word about something in the back.”

 

The camera cuts to backstage as a member of the backstage crew starts running down the hall, getting to his destination within seconds. He knocks on the door but enters seconds after. “Mr. McWeed!” he cries out in exhaustion.

 

Inside the office, is Stubby, watching his monitor while doing some paperwork.

 

Worker: “Mr. McWeed. He’s still not here.”

 

Stubby looks up from his paperwork, ripping off his reading glasses and throwing them at the wall.

 

Stubby: “Dammit! Where the hell is he?”

 

The frustrated commissioner slams away his papers and grabs his hair. He tugs slightly on it and rubs his eyeballs. Suddenly, another man bursts through the doors. It is the Magnificent Seven member, Mercury.

 

Mercury: “Stubby! I want a match tonight! Why in the hell do you stop booking me?”

 

Stubby: “Mercury! You want a match! Get out there and fight Ced!”

 

Mercury: “Huh?”

 

Stubby: “For the SWF Hardcore title!”

 

Mercury: “Ced is going to regret signing his pay per view contract!”

 

Mercury walks away as Stubby continues rubbing his forehead.

 

Stubby: “Where is that bastard?”

 

The opening notes of “The Grudge” begin to play as Mercury makes his way out. Funyon, still attempting to comprehend the situation, makes an improvisational introduction for the Regenerate King.

 

Funyon: “Introducing the cham--, er, his opponent… From Los Angeles, CA, he is a member of the Magnificent Seven, MERCURY!”

 

Stevens: “This is certainly an unexpected turn of events as our commissioner has just changed the face of this match. Now it will be Ced Ordonez doing battle with Mercury for Jay Dawg’s hardcore title!”

 

Riley: “What a debacle this is! Do you know how many people paid good money to see Jay Dawg tear Ced Ordonez limb from limb tonight? Well, Mercury should be able to deliver a sound ass-kicking, but he’s no Jay Dawg!”

 

Mercury enters the ring as the referee holds up his hands as if holding a title belt. He belts out, “This is for the Hardcore Championship!” before shrugging his shoulders and signaling to the timekeeper.

 

DING! DING! DING!

 

Ced and Mercury immediately meet each other and tie up. After a moment, Ced gains the advantage with a headlock, which he crisply transitions into a waistlock. He can’t do much as Mercury breaks his grasp and quickly counters with a waistlock of his own. Ced looks around and tries to grab Mercury’s leg, but to no avail. They struggle for a while until Ced delivers a back elbow that connects with the jaw of Mercury. He fires other that loosens Mercury’s grasp and Ced uses the opportunity to turn around to boot him in the gut. Mercury doubles over and Ced goes for an unexpected gutwrench powerbomb. He gets Mercury up, but Mercury shifts his weight and turns it into a pinning huracanrana!

 

O

N

E!

 

Mercury can’t even grab Ced’s leg before he easily kicks out. They both stand but Ced drops again to the mat, delivering a dropkick to Mercury’s knee. He staggers and Ced wastes no time in grabbing Mercury’s leg and twisting it with a Dragon Screw Legwhip. Mercury goes flying, but doesn’t go far as Ced holds onto his leg and goes for an early Cross Lightning. Mercury wisely boots him with his free leg and returns to a standing base. Both he and Ced circle each other as they plot their next courses of action.

 

Stevens: “A nice exhibition to start out with between these two fine wrestlers. You’ve got to figure that Ced’s game plan for this completely been thrown out of the window with Mercury replacing Jay Dawg at the last second.”

 

Riley: “I completely agree and I know he’s got to be happy that he doesn’t have to plead for his life against the almighty Jay Dawg!”

 

Mercury and Ced meet up at the center of the ring once again. They circle for a bit before Ced feigns a roundhouse kick, which Mercury takes no chances with and backs away. The two lock up once again and Mercury gets the upperhand with a wristlock. Ced fights it for a little while before managing to reverse into a wristlock and then a hammerlock. Mercury reaches over his shoulder and finds the back of Ced’s head and tries to snapmare him over, but his hand slips and he ends up on one knee.

 

Mercury thinks it over before trying to snapmare Ced once again, and he manages to catch him off guard, sending Ced flipping forward onto the mat. Mercury goes for a chinlock, but Ced avoids it and Mercury settles for a side headlock instead. Mercury tightens his hold on Ced’s skull as they back up into the ropes. Ced pushes off and Mercury’s grip slips and gets thrown the ropes. Off the ropes, Ced catches Mercury with an armdrag that sends the Magnificent Seven member barreling to the mat.

 

Mercury is quick to get up onto his feet, only to see Ced running full speed at him with his arm extended. Mercury deftly ducks the clothesline attempt and Ced ricochets off the ropes. Ced looks around trying to find Mercury’s face, but finds nothing but the bottom of his boot as it smacks him in the forehead. Ced staggers back to his feet after the brutal spinning heel kick and kisses both of Mercury’s feet, getting nailed with a dropkick. Mercury times Ced’s recovery perfectly and jumps up for another dropkick, but Ced sees it and swats the attempt away with both hands. Mercury gets back to his feet and Ced returns the pleasantries with a gamengiri that finds Mercury’s cheek. Mercury staggers into the ropes and Ced rushes at him with a clothesline, sending the two over the top rope and onto the thinly padded concrete outside.

 

Both have a little trouble regaining their bearings after the tumble, but begin exchanging punches once they do. Mercury gains the upperhand in the battle of fisticuffs, so Ced responds with a harsh roundhouse kick to his knee. Mercury flinches and bends down to clutch his leg, and realizes his mistake a moment too soon as Ced’s boot comes crashing down upon him by way of the backflip-giri. Ced goes for a cover and the referee slides out to count the fall.

 

O

N

E

!

 

T

W

O

!

 

Mercury raises his shoulder.

 

Ced looks around and spots a folded chair behind the timekeeper. He casually walks over and claims it for his own, raising it high into the air to the approval of the Vancouver crowd. He walks back over to Mercury and disturbs him from his mild stupor by rolling him back into the ring. Ced slides into the ring as well with the chair in hand and begins swinging it with an unsure expression on his face. Mercury clears the cobwebs out of his head as Ced charges at him and…

 

**…crack…**

 

Stevens: “OH MY GOD! That has to be…”

 

Riley: “…the WEAKEST chairshot I have ever witnessed in the SWF!”

 

Although it was a stunning blow, Ced’s love tap of a chairshot elicits critically harsh boos from the crowd, who had come to expect more in a hardcore match. Ced looks around with an apologetic expression on his face before preparing himself for another attempt. Mercury seizes the opportunity and maliciously thrust kicks the chair into Ced’s face, laying out the light-heavyweight. Mercury goes for the cover without a second thought.

 

O

N

E

!

 

T

W

O

!

 

T

H

R

E

NO!

 

Ced barely manages to lift a shoulder off the mat. Mercury grabs the dented chair and begins waffling Ced in the back. Ced attempts to crawl away, but Mercury keeps right on top of him, bashing Ced with the chair with every move he makes. After a futile escape attempt, Ced’s arms give way and he falls to the mat. Mercury lays in another chairshot for good measure, then tosses the chair aside before rolling him over for the cover.

 

O

N

E

!

 

T

W

O

!

 

T

H

R

E

NO!

 

Ced’s shoulder comes off the mat once again, but looking more like an involuntary twitch than a kickout. Mercury sees the referee holding up only two fingers and goes for the cover again.

 

O

N

E

!

 

T

W

O

!

 

T

H

NO!

 

Ced kicks out once again, this time with a little more life. Mercury appears to be frustrated as he lifts Ced to his feet and lands a punch on his temple. Ced stumbles backwards into the ropes and rebounds off with an explosive running high kick. Both wrestlers fall to their knees, but Mercury regains his wits much quicker and retaliates with another punch in the face. Ced simply staggers but doesn’t fall down, prompting Mercury to hit him once again, and again, and once again before Ced topples over, and springs right back up to his feet?

 

Ced swings with a bone crushing right cross which completely pisses off Mercury and they proceed wildly swing at each other, the referee looking on with a confused expression on his face. Ced lands a hard open-hand strike on Mercury’s cheekbone that causes him to reel a few steps backward. Ced rebounds off the ropes for a clothesline, but Mercury dodges it and puts Ced into a hammerlock. Mercury adds on a front facelock and drills Ced with a Pipedream. Ced defiantly bounds back to his feet yet again, but begins toppling forward and falls through the ropes in his effort to remain upright.

 

Mercury rubs his cheek a little before rolling to the outside. He motions to the referee for him to get into position as he makes the cover on the outside.

 

O

N

E

!

 

T

W

O

!

 

T

H

NO!

 

Ced kicks out once again, frustrating the Regenerate King. He pulls Ced up by the hair and Ced catches him completely off-guard with a small package!

 

O

N

E

 

T

W

NO!

 

Mercury kicks out with authority as Ced, still a bit glossy-eyed rolls underneath the ring apron. Mercury searches around and spots Ced’s boot jutting out from underneath the ring and pulls at it. Mercury drags Ced out and sees his purple tights before being blinded by the discharge of a fire extinguisher. He covers his eyes and Ced nails him in the gut with the metal international object. Mercury doubles over in pain and Ced lands a solid roundhouse kick to his open head, sending Mercury crashing down into a heap. Ced falls backwards, discarding his temporary ally and taking a breather after taking his beating a while ago.

 

Stevens: “Well, we normally don’t associate these two with hardcore, but they have given us a decent exhibition of it thus far.”

 

Riley: “Well, I still wish I could’ve seen Jay Dawg kill this little punk Ced though. By the way, Mark, have I mentioned how much a travesty this is to have the hardcore title on the line without Jay Dawg being involved in the match?”

 

Stevens: “It’s true that Jay Dawg is the reigning hardcore champion, but commissioner Stubby McWeed declared this match between Mercury and Ced Ordonez to be for the title after Jay Dawg mysteriously did not appear for this defense.”

 

Ced gets back onto his feet and rolls the hurting Mercury into the ring. Ced can feel his body aching as well as he plants a double knee drop into Mercury’s midsection. Mercury recoils in pain as Ced makes the cover.

 

O

N

E!

 

T

W

O

!

 

Mercury kicks out and Ced rolls out of the ring and searches underneath the ring. Something catches his eye and he yanks it out for everyone to see the push broom he has found. He tries to roll into the ring with it, but the brush head is a bit heavy and the whole thing slips out of his hands, forcing him to make a second trip to the outside. He picks it up by the handle and holds it up at an angle. He looks at it before stomping down hard near the broom head, breaking the handle off with a bit of a jagged edge.

 

He swings his makeshift cane a few times before rolling back in and getting stomped down by a recovered Mercury. Mercury pulls Ced, still grasping his broom handle, up by the tights and forces him into the corner. He whips Ced into the opposite corner and charges after him and gets caned in the shoulder for his trouble. He turns away from Ced momentarily then turns around and gets hit in the stomach. Mercury clutches his midsection and leaves himself wide open for an effective cane shot to the head. Mercury falls backwards and Ced makes the cover as he hits the ground.

 

O

N

E

!

 

T

W

O

!

 

T

H

R

NO!

 

Mercury gets a shoulder up. Ced drops the handle on to the mat and recovers the discarded chair lying on the apron. He drops in onto Mercury and begins to climb to the top turnbuckle. He looks to the crowd at leaps backwards and drills the chair with an elbowdrop. Unfortunately for him, Mercury moved out of the way, making his efforts backfire. Ced staggers back to his feet clutching his elbow and gets grabbed from behind in a double chicken-wing by Mercury. Ced has no time to react as Mercury lifts him overhead and dumps him right onto the steel chair with the Crystal Planet. Ced thrashes his legs as Mercury covers him.

 

O

N

E

!

 

T

W

O

!

 

T

H

R

E

E

NO!

 

Ced raises his shoulder and attempts to roll to the outside, but Mercury denies him of that sanctuary by grabbing his leg and pulling him back to the center of the ring. Ced struggles to stand on one foot and goes for an enzigiri, but Mercury ducks it. Ced lands on his feet, but gets captured in a full nelson and once again gets spiked, this time with a Dragon Suplex. Mercury bridges the hold and the referee counts the fall.

 

O

N

E

!

 

T

W

O

!

 

T

H

R

E

E

NOOO!

 

The crowd awes in unison at the near fall as Ced manages to shift his weight and get a shoulder off the mat. Mercury shakes his head with a soured expression on his face as he picks up Ced and places him in a dragon sleeper. He glances at the crowd before spinning it into a neckbreaker, but Ced turns with him and shoves him chest-first into the ropes. Mercury bounds back and Ced schoolboys him over.

 

O

N

E

!

 

T

W

O

!

 

T

H

R

E

NO!

 

Mercury kicks out and Ced grabs him from behind yet again and plants him flat onto the mat with a backdrop suplex. Ced rolls a shoulder up as the referee scrambles into position

 

O

N

E

!

 

T

W

O

!

 

T

H

R

!

 

They both get onto their feet and Ced rolls up Mercury with a small package!

 

O

N

E

!

 

T

W

O

!

 

Mercury shifts his weight and counters it!

 

O

N

E

!

 

T

W

O

!

 

Ced rolls through and grabs Mercury’s legs and prepares to lock in the Cross Lightning! Mercury searches for a way out and finds it in the form of the broken broom handle as he swings it at the back of Ced. He naturally releases the hold as he clutches his back and falls into the ropes. Mercury looks around for the steel chair and kicks it into the center of the ring upon finding it. He stalks the hurting Ced and brings him to the center of the ring as well.

 

He preps Ced into a powerbomb position and looks to the audience, all standing in anticipation. Mercury gets Ced readies Ced for the Spellbound as he takes a few steps back to make sure Ced hits the chair on impact. Ced begins to wriggle like a madman and manages to slide down Mercury’s back. Mercury whips around and gets a punch in the stomach. He staggers and Ced gets him up with a gutwrench powerbomb, but Mercury lands on his feet and kicks him in the gut and underhooks one of Ced’s arms. Mercury goes to grab the other arm, but Ced breaks free and pushes Mercury off of him. Ced bounces of the ropes and looks for a running high kick, but Mercury sidesteps it and replies with a thrust kick which Ced sidesteps as well.

 

They walk towards each other and Mercury swings with a punch, but Ced drops to his knees and punches Mercury again in the stomach. He springs back to his feet and roundhouse kicks Mercury in the gut for good measure. Ced wraps his arms and drags him towards the chair before hoisting him up with a gutwrench powerbomb. Mercury tries to struggle but Ced denies him as he drops to his knees and drives Mercury into the chair. He pulls the chair out from underneath Mercury and makes the cover as the crowd counts along.

 

O

N

E

!

 

T

W

O

!

 

T

H

R

E

E

NOOOO!

 

A collective awe is heard as Mercury somehow gets his shoulder up again. Ced shakes his head as he breathes heavily. He looks around and grabs the steel chair, placing it onto Mercury’s midsection. Ced drags him a little closer to the ropes and looks to the crowd before running over Mercury and leaping onto the ropes. He springboards off of them and does a complete flip, planting his feet firmly onto the steel chair with a brutal double stomp. Several members of the crowd jump in shock as Ced slips and falls backwards off of Mercury, who understandably looks like the wind just got knocked completely out of him.

 

The crowd is whipped up into a frenzy of “Holy Shit!” chants as Ced crawls over to Mercury and covers him.

 

O

N

E

!

 

T

W

O

!

 

T

H

R

E

E

!!!

 

DING! DING! DING!

Funyon: “The winner of this bout, and the NEW SWF Hardcore Champion, CED ORDONEZ!”

 

“Esaka?” blares over the PA system as the referee raises Ced’s hand in victory.

 

Riley: “This is farce, dammit! How the hell is Ced the hardcore champ? HOW?!?”

 

Stevens: “Don’t ask me! The commish made the stipulation!”

 

Riley: “But…but…dammit! This is such a farce!”

 

Ced lounges on the second rope as Mercury is helped the back. He raises his hand and traces C-E-D in the air with his pointer finger before doing the “I Got the Belt” gesture around his waist. He collapses onto the mat and rolls out and heads toward entranceway, using the ring barricade for support. The fans slap him in the back as he simply nods as he makes his way to the back.

[Guest BA_Baracus]

The screen fades to the hallway of the PNE Center, where a large grand piano is set up. Sitting there is Chris Wilson, a smile on his face and a twinkle in his eye.

 

“Hello, ladies and gentlemen.” The unappreciative and bastard Canadian crowd boos loudly. “As many or all of you know, tonight will hold my last match in an SWF ring. Well, actually, it’s not going to be in a ring…never mind. Anyway, I just wanted to let you, the people, and you, the SWF wrestlers know exactly what you mean to me.”

 

“I came here at the end of May, and everyone just assumed it would be another blown comeback. Like Rane. Or Sarp. Or a handful of other ‘great ones’ who came back and got snuffed out. But the combination of Sacred and Bo running away like frightened children and my overall excellent talent, I rose to the top quickly and created one of the greatest stables ever seen in this federation. And almost all of you said the Magnificent Seven would die tonight, but it’s only getting stronger. My replacement is nearly as great as I am, and he’s going to make all of you look infinitely, how would one say…inferior?”

 

Wilson sighs. “I can get as coy and witty as I want on the outside, but the truth is, one the inside I’m crying. I have to leave you, and it just breaks me up. Remember the time I blew ‘M7’ into the side of that office building? Or talked Raynor into turning on Edwin?” Wilson sniffs and wipes a non-existent tear away and plays a small run on the piano. “Oh well, I think I’m going to remind you.”

 

And Wilson begins to play a familiar tune on the piano, softly tickling the ivories as he begins to sing.

 

(To the tune of ‘American Pie’ by Don McLean)

 

A long, long time ago

I can still remember

How that wrestling used to make me smile

And I knew what I could do

I could make those people boo

And maybe they’d be unhappy for a while

But up to Snake Eyes made me hide

With only an Aussie by my side

Bad news when you’re fighting a stable

I didn’t know if I’d be able

I can’t remember if I jumped

When I heard about JLers getting bumped

But something made me all happy and warmed

The day the Magnificent Seven was formed

 

So bye, bye Mr. Terrorist Guy

You put bombs in a building

Why don’t you fry?

And good ol’ Carnies drink tequila and smile

We’re going to be very happy for a while

We’re going to be very happy for a while

 

 

Did you see the show tonight?

How we bloody the Carnies up, that ain’t right

But if an evil genius tells you so

And do you believe in stable wars?

And could beat downs ever seem like chores?

And could the Carnies quit going on big hospital tours?

Well I know you hate us a whole bunch

I saw you plotting, I had a hunch

You took out all the stops

You just wanted cheap pops!

We were an evil stable, full of rage

But you brought two rings and a steely cage

But I knew you were out of luck the day

The WarGames shined

 

They started singing

Bye, bye Mr. eVil head honcho guy

Put us through a lot of hell

Now does that ring a bell?

And good ol’ Carnies drink tequila and smile

We’re going to be very happy for a while

We’re going to be very happy for a while

 

For nearly an hour we’d been on our own

And blood flows quick out of Jersey’s own

But that’s not how you want it to be

When Outcast beat on the Caveman Chris

In a ring of flames that was hard to miss

Then a scream came that was heard by you and me

And while the Prince was looking sad

The Magnificent Seven were happy and glad

The war still hadn’t come to an end

What, now you’d think they would make a friend?

And while Silent beat on people with a cane

Wilson continued to use his brain

And Edwin started to go insane

The day after Ground Zero died

 

We were singing

Bye bye, Mr. Former Heel Champion guy

You lit the ring on fire

Half of us just gave a sigh

And good ol’ Carnies drink tequila and smile

We’re going to be very happy for a while

We’re going to be very happy for a while

 

Helter skelter in the summer swelter

The fed spent their nights in a fallout shelter

The feud was heating up faaaaaast

And in one hand, while he offered a truce

While using some rope to tie up a noose

With the Caveman on the sidelines, thoughts rattled lose

Now in August there was a dirty deal

While Wilson plotted like the Memphis Eel

The crowd all got up to jeer

But in Edwin’s eye, he showed no fear

Though Wilson made the match no holds barred

And with Silent’s tape, Edwin’s memory was jarred

Do you recall whose mind was scarred?

The day Wilson didn’t actually lie

 

So bye, bye Mr. Maniac Manipulator Guy

You got your match

And your planned worked

But why, dude, oh why?

And good ol’ Carnies drink tequila and smile

We’re going to be very happy for a while

We’re going to be very happy for a while

 

Oh and there were all in one ring

A war going on, a real bloody thing

With no rematch coming after this again

So come on, Eddy be nimble

Eddy be quick,

Eddy put his head through a chair that’s thick

Because the devil is Wilson’s only friend

And as we watched Raynor run down

The fans smiles turned to a frown

Not even a loyal Carnie to the end

Wouldn’t smack a chair over his friend

And as the Smarktron™ turned on that night

With the fans realizing why things weren’t quite right

I saw Wilson laughing with delight

The day Edwin’s fans cried

 

They were signing

So bye bye, Mr. Piano wire guy

So you’ve ruined a life,

So out of the country you’ll fly

And good ol’ Carnies drink tequila and smile

We’re going to be very happy for a while

We’re going to be very happy for a while

 

We met a man who served the meals

And we asked him about the fabled heels

He just smiled and turned away

We walked around the sacred floor

Where we’d heard the booing years before

But there was no jeering or no haaaate

And in the back, the people gleamed

The faces laughed, and the tweeners beamed

But not a threat was spoken

Any anger was simply token

And the three things I thought were great

Evil, hate and a big buyrate

They had left right through that swinging gate

The day the heeldom died

 

And they were singing

Bye, Bye Mr. Number One Heel guy

You caused a lot of pain

But now away you’ll fly

And good ol’ Carnies drink tequila and smile

We’re going to be very happy for a while

We’re going to be very happy for a while”

 

Wilson pulls up and stares at the camera, biting his lip.

 

“I suppose that about goes over everything. This last month has been pretty nasty, and I’m sure tonight isn’t going to be pretty either. I just wanted you all to remember the great guy I was. How much fun it was to see me and Eddy go at it.”

 

Wilson rubs his face in the palm of his hand, obviously faking distress. He sniffs again.

 

“Good ol’ Edwin. He’s got a worse match than I do tonight. Fighting his former best friend. At least I’m fighting a guy I hate. Must be rough. But Edwin, I just want to thank you for everything you’ve done. For being my rival. For being my enemy. For being…my friend.”

 

Wilson begins to play again, flashes of Betty White flashing through everyone’s head…

 

"Thank you for being a friend

Travel down the road and back again

Your heart is true

You’re a pal and a confidant

 

I’m not ashamed to say

I hope it always will stay this way

My hat is off

won’t you stand up and take a bow?

 

And if you threw a party

Invited everyone you knew

You would see the big ol’ bomb would be from me

And the card attached would say

 

Thank you for being a friend

Thank you for being a friend

Thank you for being a friend

Thank you for being a friend

 

If it’s a car you lack

I’d surely buy you a Cadillac

Whatever you need, any time of the day or night

 

I’m not ashamed to say

I hope it always will stay this way

MY hat is off, won’t you stand up and take a bow?

 

And when we both get older

With walking canes and hair of graaay…”

 

“Chris, what are you doing?”

 

Wilson is interrupted by “The Superior One” Tom Flesher, walking past him. The manipulative maniac looks up.

 

“Oh, hey Tom. I was just singing a little bit. Trying to express my emotions on leaving.”

 

Tom nods slowly, not really listening to anything that’s being said. “Oh, you’re singing. Mind if I join?”

 

Wilson shrugs. “Sure, why not.” He looks around. “I don’t have any other instruments though. You’re just going to have to use those pipes.”

 

“Nah, don’t you worry. I’m always prepared.” Tom reaches just off screen and comes back with a guitar. “In fact, I have a guitar right here.”

 

“Great!” cries Wilson. “What do you want to do?”

 

Tom ponders for a moment. “How about something from The Doors?”

 

“’Tell All the People?’”

 

“Why not. Ready?”

 

Wilson plays a few notes on the piano, assuring himself of the tune. “You bet. A one, a two, a three, a four…”

 

“Tell all the people that you see

Follow me

Follow me down

Tell all the people that you see

Set them free

Follow me down

 

You tell them they don't have to run

We're gonna pick up everyone

Come out and take me by my hand

Gonna bury all our troubles in the sand, oh yeah

 

Can't you see the wonder at your feet

Your life's complete

Follow me down

Can't you see me growing, get your guns

The time has come

To follow me down

 

Follow me across the sea

Where milky babies seem to be

Molded, flowing revelry

With the one that set them free

 

Tell all the people that you see

It's just me

Follow me down

 

Tell all the people that you see

Follow me

Follow me down

Tell all the people that you see

We'll be free

Follow me down

 

Tell all the people that you see

It's just me

Follow me down

Tell all the people that you see

Follow me

Follow me down

 

Follow me down You got to follow me down

Follow me down

Tell all the people that you see

We'll be free

Follow me down

Tell all the people you see

Follow me

You got to follow me down”

 

Both men stop playing and look at each other.

 

“Thanks, Tom. I feel a lot better on account of that. I’m all ready to kick the crap out of Divefire.”

 

Tom nods and sets his guitar back off stage, leaning on the piano as he speaks with Wilson. “Glad I could help you. Well, I’m going to go get ready to win me another round of double gold. Good luck with the match.”

 

“You too.” Wilson watches him leave and turns back to the camera. “Well folks, there’s probably actual wrestling you want to see. Or at least get it out of the way so you can watch me beat up on Divefire. Once again, thanks for being there every night, booing me and just making everything so much better. I’m not really going to miss you, but I’m sure you’re going to miss me right after the first Jay Dawg/Sacred main event. See you later tonight.”

[Guest BA_Baracus]

Riley: It's time!

 

***"FWOOSH!" the handy animated graphic materializes itself on the screen, depicting the upcoming match: Tod deKindes vs Annie Eclectic.***

 

Stevens: It's time indeed, folks. Coming up next, the U.S. title is on the line as Annie Eclectic goes up against champion Tod deKindes, in what promises to be a match filled with emotion. Over a month ago at Apocalypse, an alliance was ended when Annie turned her back on her XF9 teammates. But more importantly, a friendship born out of respect, a bond between fellow fighters was CRUSHED when Annie decided to do what she did.

 

Riley: Ohhh PLEASE spare me the soap opera CRAP, Stevens!! Annie was working against XF9 ALL ALONG and it's just a damn shame that poor little Todski couldn't see through her. He got SOFT, he became FRIENDS with her! In this business, there are NO friends and respect is for the WEAK and UNTALENTED!! … (Stevens shoots him a quizzical look) … Right. Annie made her intentions VERY clear and that it was now All About Her! It just so happened that Tod's the U.S. champ now, so what better way to really stick in XF9's face than to take his title and rub it in.

 

Stevens: That being said, let's show you now, how these two got here …

 

***We cut to a video montage of the recent events surrounding the two. Namely Annie's turn shortly after Apocalypse, XF9's reactions to it, Tod claiming the U.S. title as his own, Annie's subsequent attack on Tod in his rematch with Tom Flesher, and Annie's ensuing mind games with Tod which can best be resumed with one four-lettered name …***

 

***A slow triple chime of the bell signals the next match, as the "SWF United States Championship" logo swooshes onto the screen. We then cut to a lone shot of Funyon standing in the ring with Mark Hebner standing nearby in a corner. The man with the mic clears his throat and begins…***

 

Funyon: Ladies and gentlemen, Genesis continues with the following contest. Set for ONE fall, it is for the SWF United States Heavyweight Championship! … (pauses, allowing a crowd cheer) … Introducing first, the challenger …

 

***A few minutes of silence, leaving enough time for the sound techs to cue up "Angry Johnny" by Poe, as the lights dim and a lone red spotlight searches its way through the crowd, ending up on the specially designed set (which was NOT designed by Dr. Carol Marcus, thank you very much).***

 

Funyon: From Indianapolis, Indiana; weighing in at 175 lbs. She is the Hardcore Queen and a member of the Magnificent Seven … Annie - Eeeeeeeeclectiiiiiiiiiic!!

 

***As the boos make themselves heard, Annie saunters out with a grin worthy of bitchslap. While blowing kisses to the angry crowd, she spots a lone little girl holding up a "ANNIE IS MY HERO" sign proudly. She stops to acknowledge her one true fan … only to yank the sign away and rip it in five! As the little girl appears crushed, Annie speaks to the camera while resuming her way to the ring.***

 

Annie: I'm too good to be that girl's role model!

 

Riley: AAAHH-HEEE HEE HEE HEE HEE HEE HEE!! HAAA HAHA HA HA HAHA!! Did you see that?! That was GREAT!

 

Stevens: I don't believe this. She wasn't like this.

 

Riley: She just took that sign and RIPPED it in half!!

 

Stevens: You've ripped some in your time. If you know what I mean.

 

***After sliding her kendo stick under the bottom rope, Annie slides in the ring herself, pausing to admire her likeness on her entrance video, proudly thumbing her average sized chest.***

 

Riley: THAT is the face of a winner, Stevens! THAT, is someone who will do ANYTHING it takes in order to reach the top. Attack her mentor? No problem! Turn on faction? Sure! Screw with a friend's mind? Absolutely! Dig up some dirt? Easy as 1 - 2 - 3!

 

Stevens: Speaking of dirt, you gotta wonder what information Annie managed to dig up on this Sara woman, which has made Tod very curious to say the least.

 

Riley: All we know is one name. And that's Sara. Is she his sister? Is she his cousin, wife, accountant, mail woman? Who knows? It does appear whoever that Tod doesn't want that type of information to get out. Trying to hide the fact that his VISA's expired, maybe?

 

Stevens: Will you stop it. Tod is as much a legal U.S. citizen as anyone in south California!

 

Riley: …

 

***Silence.***

 

Stevens: And I'll have you know Tod is Canadian! And tonight we're in Vancouver, B.C.! He's got a right to be here!

 

Riley: … Good recovery.

 

Stevens: Shut up.

 

***Meanwhile, Annie had been doing all sorts of things to rile up the crowd as they awaited her opposition, as "Angry Johnny" finally faded away.***

 

Riley: Meanwhile, we got Ben Hardy standing back there with the champion!

 

***Quick cut to backstage at the interview area.***

 

Ben: All right, I'm here with the U.S. Champion, Tod deKindes. Tod, this is it, your title defense against Annie Eclectic is coming up next. Knowing your past friendship with her, how DO you plan on wrestling this match, strategy wise?

 

***Ben holds the mic over towards Tod, who contemplates his answer. As if a war is being fought in his head, he turns away.***

 

Tod: No. I can't do this…

 

Ben: … Can't do what?

 

Tod: I can't. No …

 

***Tod walks off, leaving this interviewer at a loss for words.***

 

Ben: Well, um, back to you guys at ringside.

 

***Back to the ring, as we see Annie mouth a noticeable "What the fuck's with him NOW?" to the referee Mark Hebner.***

 

Funyon: And her opponent …

 

***Long pause, as the slow but chilling beats of 'Cold' by Static X invade the arena. Fans are a bit perplexed by the new theme music, but quickly cheer once they recognize the familiar XF9 logo and entrance video.***

 

Funyon: From Muenchen, Germany; weighing in at 225 lbs. He is the reigning SWF United States Heavyweight Champion … Tod - deeeeeeeee - Kin - deeeeeeesss!!

 

***It takes a couple minutes (giving the fans a chance to listen to this new spooky kool song) but Tod eventually comes out, dragging the belt along in his hand. He doesn't appear as focused as usual. He keeps looking towards Annie with a face that seems to just ask a sad "Why…?". Ignoring Annie's steely gaze for now, Tod simply rolls into the ring and pleases the masses with a simple belt raise. No roar or anything.***

 

Stevens: I don't know about you, Bobby, but Tod deKindes does NOT look like he wants to do this match all of a sudden!

 

Riley: He's finally seen the light!! He knows that he'll never have the GUTS to hit a woman like Annie and now he's here to surrender the U.S. belt to her!! For once I APPLAUD him!!

 

Stevens: You gotta keep in mind that this is Tod's former friends who's basically been screwing with his emotions lately all for her own personal gain!! We can only sympathize with what Tod's going through here!

 

***As the music comes to an end, Tod frees himself of his trench coat, all while still clutching to his U.S. belt in his left hand. They approach to center ring, but he dares not look at her. Meanwhile, Mark Hebner tries to run down the pre match instructions, while trying to retrieve the title belt from Tod's hands. Annie feels she has him in the palm of his hand now.***

 

Stevens: Look at her, taunting Tod to no end. Does she have no soul?!

 

Riley: Umm, not really!

 

***Tod finally relents and drops the title belt in Mark Hebner's hands, whom quickly raises it up, hands it to the ringside tech and orders the bell to be rung. Tod hasn't moved once since handing over his belt, and is still staring at the mat. Annie gets right in his face. With the match now officially under way, she's trying to goad him into hitting her.***

 

Riley: Tod said he wouldn't fight his friend, but I think he's gonna have to if he wants to keep his belt!

 

***After what felt like ten minutes of tongue lashing, Annie finally unleashes with a mighty SLAP across the face of Tod! He doesn't even look back in anger, as Annie thinks 'Fuck it' and starts wailiing away on him with hard right hands! He allows himself to be tossed into the ropes via an Irish whip, but he blocks a hiptoss attempt. He grabs a quick head lock, works into a rear hammer lock, and then … simply shoves her out of the hold? She looks at him with her best 'What the FUCK?!' glance, as he simply replies by nonchalantly blowing a lock of hair off his face and staring a hole at her. Clearly not what she had in mind, she yells at him for a proper lock up this time. They go to clinch in the center of the ring, but Tod ducks under the attempt and scores with an arm drag!***

 

Stevens: What an arm drag!!

 

Riley: Yeah … a whopping 45 seconds in.

 

***Annie stares at Tod once again, brushing a misplaced lock of hair off of HER face, wondering what the hell she's gotta do to get him to show some God damn offense (her thoughts, not mine). With an idea in mind, Annie gets up to her feet … and turns around??***

 

Riley: What is she doing??

 

Stevens: It looks like she's giving Tod a free shot!!

 

Riley: He won't even do it! He's too much of a wuss to even throw a punch at her!

 

***With arms fully extended, Annie waits … and waits. Meanwhile, Tod looks down at the mat, his conflicting emotions seemingly getting the best of him … until he looks up, smirks at the crowd, grabs Annie in a rear waist lock and DRIVES her down to the mat with a german suplex!***

 

Riley: WHAT the HELL??!

 

Stevens: He was playing her all along!! Or was he??

 

***With Annie down on the mat holding the back of her head, Tod rushes over and hooks the leg.***

 

*ONE!*

 

*TWO!*

 

***Quick kick out by the Hardcore Queen. He pulls her up by the hair and balls up his fist (headed straight for her facial area), but he's not THAT ruthless (for now) and contents himself with a simple Irish whip to the ropes. Annie ducks a lethal clothesline / back elbow combination only to fly off the ropes with a crossbody, but she's CAUGHT!Tod spins her around and lands a neat looking sitdown Rock Bottom type maneuver! (he'll find a name for it, he SWEARS!)***

 

Stevens: What a move! The cover!!

 

*ONE!*

 

*TWO!*

 

***Another kick out by Annie.***

 

Riley: I don't think this is what Annie had in mind! She was expecting Tod to be at his lowest EVER and be in NO condition to fight for tonight!

 

Stevens: She's played her share of mind games on Tod, but he's still got a U.S. title to defend, here! I think he wants to hold onto it!

 

Riley: Eh, he's dead anyway …

 

***Meanwhile, Tod has Annie back up on her feet, her arm up over his head, as he scores with a crisp snap suplex.***

 

Crowd: Hoo!!

 

Stevens: It looks like he's going for the Sara Sequence early!

 

***Tod muscles up his former friend up to her feet, lifts her up with ease and nails the front suplex.***

 

Crowd: Hoo!!

 

Riley: I've got it!!

 

Stevens: What?

 

Riley: I know what Annie knows about Sara!!

 

Stevens: Really, what's that?

 

Riley: Annie taught Tod how to do all those suplexes and she's upset that he's not getting her just props!!

 

Stevens: How the hell can you say that?! This Sara woman obviously means a lot to him!! … God you're lame …

 

***Meanwhile, Tod lifts up Annie for the third suplex on the ropes, but she knows what THAT's all about, slips out of the hold and lands behing Tod and shoves him hard to the turnbuckles. Crowd boos at not getting the chance to yell out "Hoo!!" for a third time. Annie holds on for an attempt at a roll up, but Tod hangs onto the top rope, sending Annie rolling backwards by herself. Tod charges out of the corner with a clothesline, but Annie ducks … only to turn around and walk RIGHT into a standing sidekick to the jaw! Tod quickly falls on top for the cover.***

 

*ONE!*

 

*TWO!*

 

***Kick out by Annie. Tod raises her up by the hair, but Annie sees she has a free arm; and uses it to conveniently jam it up Tod's delicate area. Crowd groans at the heinous action. Of course, Riley thinks it's the most hilarious thing he's ever seen.***

 

Stevens: Come on, referee!! Get in there!!

 

Riley: HA HA HEE HEE!! That was beautiful … Let's see it on Double Feature!!

 

***As the screen splits for a brief instant, depicting Annie's treacherous ways to gain the advantage, she pushes Tod into a corner and starts pounding on him with vicious knee lifts to the midsection. Back to full screen real time, as Annie scores with an impressive vertical suplex on the larger Tod. She drops a series of elbows to further ground her german opponent to the mat, punctuating that bit of offense with a stiff stomp to the forehead. She quickly hops up to the second buckle, only to come flying down at half speed with an impressive diving elbow drop right on the forehead. Cover by Annie.***

 

*ONE!*

 

*TWO!*

 

***Quick kick out by the champion. Tod staggers up to his feet, but Annie is quick to bring him back down with a SOLID jumping knee strike to the face! Holding his jaw, he staggers back groggily to a corner. Annie is quick to meet up with him however with an Irish whip attempt to the opposite corner … but it's reversed! Tod sends Annie crashing back first into the corner, followed by a blind charge. Annie conveniently puts up her feet for protection, as Tod runs smack dab into them. Note that Annie's kendo stick is resting at her feet in that very same corner. While Tod readjusts any possibly misplaced jaw bones, Annie starts tugging away at the strings on the top turnbuckle.***

 

Stevens: What's she doing now??

 

Riley: Well, she's OBVIOUSLY fixing the ring! That thing can be a freakin' mine field on a bad day!

 

Stevens: She's undoing the top turnbuckle pad! This is not a No DQ match!! Hey ref!!

 

***Mark Hebner finally notices the happenings and gives a stern warning to the Hardcore Queen. Just as he goes to reattach the corner pad in place, Annie discreetly grabs her kendo stick and JAMS the BUTT end of it right into Tod's abdomen!! Crowd is NOT approving of this.***

 

Stevens: HEY!! Ref, turn around!! She's got a damn kendo stick in there!!

 

***Wisely making sure of not using the stick in its proper manner (what with the loud thwacking sound that a kendo stick can produce), she throws her devious weapon outside just in time as Hebner turns around, completing his task. She innocently raises her hands as Hebner gives her another warning, but the crowd knows better. She goes back to kicking the hell out of Tod, gaining another negative reaction from the canadian crowd. She pulls up the german grappler by his long flowing locks of hair, only to brutally knock him back down with a series of european uppercuts. Checking his nose for blood but finding none for now, Tod helps himself up by the ropes. Annie meets up with him using vicious roundhouse kicks to the midsection, driving the air out of the german one. Irish whip by Annie, who connects with a nicely executed flying back elbow. She falls on top for the cover.***

 

*ONE!*

 

*TWO!*

 

***Kick out by the champion. Both fighters up, as another Irish whip exchange sends Tod to the ropes once again. He ducks a clothesline, but he's quickly caught by Annie onto her shoulder. She makes the necessary adjustments … ***

 

Riley: She's going for the Splashdown!! Shortest title match EVER!!

 

***But Tod wiggles out of the hold somehow … and ends up in a sunset flip on Annie!***

 

*ONE!*

 

*TWO!*

 

***Kick out by Annie. She rolls backwards and hooks a jackknife hold on Tod, for her OWN pin attempt.***

 

*ONE!*

 

*TWO!*

 

***Tod muscles out of it by bridging up his back and then turns the hold around into a backslide!***

 

*ONE!*

 

*TWO!*

 

***Annie rolls out of it but Tod comes right back with a small package out of nowhere!***

 

*ONE!*

 

*TWO!*

 

***Another kick out by Annie. Irish whip exchange, as Tod ducks yet another only to put the brakes on when she puts her head down for a back body drop. He puts her in the standing head scissors and then DRIVES her down to the mat with a nasty jumping piledriver! The cover.***

 

*ONE!*

 

*TWO!*

 

***Shoulder up by Annie. Tod brings her up to her feet once again and puts her in another standing headscissors, but this time next to the ropes. The fans must be anticipating a powerbomb to the outside (!), as they start cheering like mad. Annie, knowing that having her head between a guy's legs can't be all that good in this position, powers out and backdrops Tod clear over the top rope! As Tod recovers on the outside, Annie begins a slow climb of the turnbuckles.***

 

Stevens: Looks like Annie's gonna fly here tonight!

 

***Annie stand one foot on the top turnbuckle, her other foot on the second to stabilize herself, as she tries to get a reaction out of the crowd. They cheer, trying to encourage the high spot and having her jump … only she flips them all off, steps back down onto the apron and offers a nasty kick to the head of Tod instead. Crowd boos.***

 

Stevens: Oh please …

 

Riley: GREAT offensive maneuver by the Hardcore Queen!

 

Stevens: Shyeah. Offensive to the crowd in the front row.

 

***As Mark Hebner begins his outside count of ten, Annie hops safely (1) down to ringside, nailing Tod with an axhandle (2) to the back on the way down. Not wasting any time, she grabs (3) Tod's head and sends it ramming violently into the guard rail. She follows it up with the same thing, only this (4) time she sends Tod's head flying into the steel ring steps. Repeat (5) one more time. She grabs him in the vertical (6) suplex position, only to viciously drop him chest first onto those same ring steps! She takes a few steps (8) back, and charges, only to connect with a SICK seated dropkick to the back of Tod's head! She quickly rolls in and out to break the count, so that she can have enough time to collect Tod's carcass off the ring steps. She throws him back inside the ring, and puts on the lateral press for the cover.***

 

*ONE!*

 

*TWO!*

 

*TH-- …

 

***Shoulder up by Tod. Upset at the near fall, Annie quickly brings up Tod to his feet by the hair and sends him running to the ropes with an angry Irish whip; almost immediately connecting with a vicious drop kick to the mouth. A brief little gloating session leads to another pin attempt.***

 

*ONE!*

 

*TWO!*

 

***Kick out by Tod. Annie brings him back up to his feet only to further stun him with an eye rake. She hops up on the second rope and grabs Tod's head in a front face lock, no doubt with a tornado DDT on her mind. She jumps off to execute the move … but Tod holds her up! He completes his earlier uncompleted Sara Sequence by mercilessly dropping Annie stomach first on the top rope. Instead of his trademark springboard leg drop to complete the sequence, Tod throws himself in the opposite ropes perpendicular to Annie, only to come back and SAIL over her with a sunset flip to the outside! Annie, aware of the impending pain that would be sure to follow, grabs onto the top rope and hangs on for dear life. Seeing as his attempted sunset powerbomb won't work, Tod simply yanks out Annie's legs from under her, causing her to smash her face on the ring apron!***

 

Stevens: And down she goes!!

 

Riley: Her face!! Her valuable face!!!

 

***As Mark Hebner restarts his 10 count, Tod returns the earlier favor by throwing Annie's head (1) back and forth into the guard rail, ring steps and ring apron. Having (2) her cornered against the steel railing, he contemplates (3) administering a brutal series of knife edge chops, but well … you know, he won't. (4) Instead, he chooses to whip her in the direction of the steel ring post, but Annie reverses! Tod counters THAT as he's running by grabbing the ring post, swinging himself over and UNDER the bottom rope and back into the ring! (breaking Hebner's count in the process) He slides back out, ducks a clothesline from Annie and then catches her in a fireman's carry position. He DRIVES her down with the only move that can follow suit … ***

 

Stevens: A Death Valley Driver ON THE RING SIDE FLOOR!!

 

***Tod rolls back under the bottom rope for ring re-entry, as Annie is NOT moving outside. Mark Hebner puts on the count, barely getting up to five, as Tod politely shoves him aside, prepping another high flying move. Directing himself towards a corner, he springboards up to the third buckle, dives off, and connects with a SICK sommersault senton to the outside onto the prone Annie! Tod holds his back in pain, as surely the landing wasn't the most pleasant of experiences.***

 

Stevens: And Tod deKindes will pull out ALL the stops to retain his title!!

 

Riley: What does that tell you about a guy when he is willing to put his OWN body on the line in order to win his match?!? This is NOT looking good for Annie Eclectic as we speak!!

 

***At first cringing at the sick spot, Mark Hebner gets his thoughts back together and reapplies his double ten count. Tod, gingerly getting up to his feet, brings up Annie to hers as well; still favoring the lower back. Annie suddenly frees her hands and buries a thumb right into Tod's visual area, temporarily blinding him. She shoves him with all her might face first into the ring post, then she rolls back into the ring. Note the audible "thonk!". Tod lays still for a few moments, as Hebner goes out to check on him. He rolls onto his back, as we discover a rapidly forming puddle of blood on his forehead.***

 

Stevens: Looks as if Tod has been busted wide open by that shot on the steel ring post by Annie!

 

Riley: That's actually when he cut himself shaving this morning. It's acting up!

 

***Tod reassures Mark Hebner that he can continue the match, as he slowly but surely rolls up to his feet and back inside the ring. Annie meets him up with a vicious stomp to the back of the head, punctuated by a series of elbow drops to that same area. A few rounds of illegal choking are also used in order to wear down the german grappler, but it's not without its warnings from Mark Hebner. She gets him up to his feet by the hair once again. Irish whip exchange sends Tod to the ropes, only to have him eat a nasty round house kick to the mid section. Annie walks around in the proper position and sends down Tod with authority using a side Russian leg sweep. She floats backwards into a cover.***

 

*ONE!*

 

*TWO!*

 

*THR-- …

 

***Shoulder up by the champion, as the crowd lets out a sigh of relief. Annie mounts Tod (minds out of the gutter, people … ) and starts working on that cut above Tod's eye with a series of hard shots with the right hand, as Hebner warns her to open up the fist. She gets off of Tod, does a casual rhythmic walk towards the ropes and comes off nailing a mean looking knee drop right on Tod's forehead. Cover.***

 

*ONE!*

 

*TWO!*

 

*THR-- …

 

***Kick out by Tod, who, feeling a comeback; starts making his way up to his feet. Annie counters that with an Irish whip to the ropes. Tod ducks a clothesline and then a back elbow, but on the third bounce off the ropes he gets caught on Annie's shoulder and DROPPED to the mat with the Splashdown!***

 

Riley: YES!!

 

Stevens: And there's the Splashdown!! This COULD be it!!

 

***Tod is out COLD, but … Annie's not covering?! Despite drawing protests from Bobby Riley at ring side, Annie kneels next to her opponent, dipping her fingers into Tod's crimson mess of a face. With her left hand now fully covered in Tod's red life fluid, she brushes it against Tod's chest, crudely spelling out "SARA" … ***

 

Stevens: Oh come on now, this is going too far! This is SICK!

 

Riley: Mind games, Stevens, it's ALL mind games!!

 

Stevens: Well, she IS passing up a perfect chance to cover Tod and win the title, but she's not doing it and it COULD end up costing her dearly!!

 

***Wiping her hand clean on the mat, she picks up Tod on her shoulder once again, and sets him up to deliver ANOTHER Splashdown! ***

 

Stevens: Come on now, not another Splashdown! This poor kid's had enough!

 

***As the fans once again start rallying behind the german grappler, Tod suddenly gains some new life in him and starts wiggling his legs, countering the Splashdown into a DDT! Both fighters are down and out! Mark Hebner gathers himself to the center of the ring and thus begins the official ten count.***

 

Stevens: So far, Annie Eclectic has thrown a lot towards Tod deKindes in this U.S. title match! But now it seems almost as if Tod is starting to mount his comeback for good!

 

Riley: We can still barely see that 'Sara' inscription written in BLOOD on Tod's chest, but you gotta wonder what he'll think when he notices it!

 

***Hebner is up to five, still nothing happening.***

 

Stevens: A lot of emotion has gone into this rivalry so far! Annie was all about making a name for herself while Tod wanted to gain revenge for her turning her back on XF9! Annie has had Tod's number in recent weeks and God only knows what type of "information" on this Sara woman, relating to Tod's past!

 

Riley: She actually told me before the show.

 

Stevens: Really, what is it?

 

Riley: Pffft! I'm not telling YOU! She'll tell all of you and the rest of the humanoids when she's good and ready!!

 

***Hebner is suddenly up to eight. Both start stirring. Annie rolls up to her feet with help from the nearby ropes, while Tod does the same … and notices the still noticeable but partly smudged out "S A r A" written in fresh blood on his chest. He perks up with a look of murder on his face, his eyes now locked onto nothing but Annie, who's also now up and sees the impending consequences of her heinous act dancing in her head. She meekly tries to throw a right hand, but it's blocked by Tod who's quick to answer with his own right hands! ***

 

Riley: HE'S HITTING A WOMAN!! STOP THE MATCH!! STOP THE MATCH RIGHT NOW!!

 

Stevens: I'm gonna hit YOU if you don't shut up right now!!

 

***Irish whip to the ropes by Tod, as he connects right away with a murderous clothesline, just about taking Annie's head off. She staggers back to her feet however, allowing Tod to bounce off the ropes and nail ANOTHER head removing clothesline! He brings her back up to his feet, but then sends her crashing back first with authority into the turnbuckles with an Irish whip. He charges right after her, connecting with his trademark corner spear! Annie steps out holding her ribs, but Tod hooks both of her arms and sends her flying HIGH overhead with his double underhook belly to belly suplex! Cover! ***

 

*ONE!*

 

*TWO!*

 

*THR-- …

 

***Close kick out by Annie, who complains of a knee injury to Mark Hebner. Oblivious to that for the moment, Tod slaps his thigh, no doubt wanting to superkick the bad taste out of Annie's mouth. As Annie is trying to pull herself up with Mark Hebner's helping hands, she SHOVES the poor referee away … just in time for Tod to accidentally SMACK him with the aforementionned standing side kick.***

 

Stevens: Referee's down!!

 

***Annie uses the distraction to her advantage, as she buries a boot in Tod's gut and PLANTS him down with her version (well, Sydney Sky's version …) of the Pedigree!***

 

Riley: There's the Daybreak!! This is IT!! Come on, ref, COUNT!!

 

***The still groggy Annie rolls Tod over and hooks the leg …but nothing. Realizing her mistake of having the referee knocked out, she pounds the mat in frustration. She goes over to Hebner and tries to roust him into a conscious state of mind, but she's not being very successful. However, the crowd groans as they spot Eddy Long sprinting down the aisle.***

 

Riley: All right! We got another referee!

 

Stevens: Here comes Eddy Long, who's gonna no doubt take over for Mark Hebner here!

 

***Upon seeing him, Annie reassures herself and goes back to covering Tod. Long is quickly in position … ***

 

*ONE!*

 

.

 

*TWO!*

 

.

 

*THRE-- …

 

Stevens: HE KICKED OUT!! TOD KICKED OUT!!

 

Riley: NO!!! WHAT THE HELL IS THIS?!

 

***Annie remains there in shock, staring at Tod's raised and shaking fist. She gives Eddy Long what for as Tod starts making his way up to his feet. Another right hand exchange leads to Tod Irish whipping Annie to the corner once again. He charges with goals of another corner spear in mind, but Annie moves! She thrusts Tod's head between her legs once again, signaling for ANOTHER Daybreak! … But she takes a little too much time gloating to the crowd as Tod grabs her legs, takes down Annie and catapults her into the corner! As Mark Hebner starts to show signs of life, Tod buries a knee in Annie's midsection for good measure, throws her left arm down between her legs and makes the reverse Guns To The Head motion with his right hand. ***

 

Stevens: And now Tod is going for the Spirit Breaker! This crowd is on their feet!!

 

***He tries to appropriate her into the pumphandle slam position, but she won't have none of it and wiggles her way back to her feet! She shoves Tod hard into the turnbuckles. She grabs a rear waist lock in hopes of a german suplex, but Tod's feet stay glued to the mat. He fires a solid back elbow right into Annie's temple, breaking up her waist lock. He grabs his OWN waist lock, and going for his own german. He lifts up Annie, but she's still trying to fight the move, landing safely back on her feet in the process. A stiff forearm on the upper back by Tod sets her straight, as he manages to pull off the german suplex, landing a bit awkwardly. He still manages to bridge for the pin attempt. Hebner is now up … ***

 

Riley: Wait a second …

 

Stevens: BOTH referees are counting!!

 

*ONE!* - *ONE!*

 

.

 

*TWO!* - *TWO!*

 

.

 

*THREE!!* - *THREE!*

 

Stevens: What the hell is going on here?!

 

***Bell rings. No music is played, as nobody is sure as to who won. Eddy Long and Mark Hebner argue for a bit, until Long goes over towards Tod and raises his hand! Crowd cheers, naturally. Hebner waves it off immediately, opting to raise *Annie's* hand instead! Crowd doesn't quite agree with this one.***

 

Riley: The referees can't agree on a winner!!

 

Stevens: Let's get a replay here! Let's see what happened!

 

***The slow motion video shows Tod nailing the somewhat of a German suplex on Annie, and bridging for the pin. Both referees are shown counting, but Mark Hebner is seen looking at *Tod's* pinned shoulders, whereas Eddy Long was counting Annie down!***

 

Riley: I believe we have ourselves a double pin, Stevens!!

 

***As both tired fighters rest in a corner, Hebner and Long continue arguing the decision while the fans fire up a healthy chant of "Bull - shit!". The referees invite Funyon in the ring to announce an official decision. The replay is shown once again for the viewers at home, and on the Smarktron for all the arena to see.***

 

Riley: It IS hard to tell who pinned who here. There was NO sign of a kick out by either Tod or Annie and I gotta admit, BOTH of their shoulders were down, Stevens.

 

Stevens: Hard to tell indeed … Let's see if we can get an announcement, here …

 

***After clearing it up with the referees, Funyon clears his throat … ***

 

Funyon: Ladies and gentlemen, after careful considerations by referees Mark Hebner and Eddy Long, and due to the dubious circumstances of the finish of this bout, being the double pinfall situation; the referees have no choice but to declare this match: a DRAW!!

 

***Crowd naturally boos at the decision.***

 

Funyon: However, since titles only change hands via a pinfall or a submission, STILL the SWF United States Heavyweight Champion: Tod - deeeeeeeeeee - Kin - deeeeeeessssss!!

 

***Crowd lets out a moderate cheer as 'Cold' by Static X fires up for Tod. Annie meanwhile, is resting against a top turnbuckle, her head buried in her arms in disappointment. Clearly not the way he wanted this, Tod collects his title belt and walks off in disgust.***

 

Stevens: Clearly a controversial ending to a great U.S. title match between these two! But surely we haven't seen the end of it …

 

Riley: Annie has the right to a rematch!! We did NOT have a decisive winner tonight and I will make SURE to tell Stubby about THAT!!

 

***As Tod uneventfully walks to back to his dressing room, Annie picks up her kendo stick and angrily smashes it against the ropes and turnbuckles; before being persuaded by the referees to quietly abandon the ring area.***

 

Stevens: This issue has got to be FAR from over, Bobby …

 

***As Annie walks to the back to a sounding round of boos, we segue into a video package depicting the recent events which led up to tonight's match between Divefire and Chris Wilson … ***

[Guest BA_Baracus]

“Every legend has a beginning…” A deep baritone voice echoes out to the fans at home and the PNE Coliseum.

 

Black and white footage shows a slightly younger looking Divefire laying down moves in the Junior League rings to a host of familiar and unfamiliar faces before the footage shifts back a black screen.

 

“Every hero has his villain…”

 

This time Chris Wilson stands tall over the fallen body of Divefire, the Thugg standing tall at Wilson’s side and his hands fresh with the blood of his victim. The camera catches a glimpse of Wilson’s sick grin before the footage fades out again.

 

“Every story has its end…”

 

Chris Wilson and Divefire stand face to face in the ring, eyes locked and anger blazing clear between the two of them as the camera spins around the two and the figures collide in an explosion, triggering off the rifts of Powerman 5000 ‘Ultra Mega’ and the accompanying video package.

 

“Ultra mega supersonic.”

 

Divefire slams the Flame Out into Wilson’s chest in front of a watching Jayson Grant!

 

“Ultra mega for your head.”

 

Chris Wilson drives Divefire’s head into the mat with the Platinum Nightmare!

 

“Ultra mega get up jump in.”

 

The Thugg leaps into the ring and looms over a fallen Divefire…

 

“Ultra mega until you're dead.”

 

And delivers him to the mat with countless power moves.

 

“Wanna get in my world my world,

You wanna get in my world oh yeah.

You gonna see the same thing same thing,

The true bloods flatten mega star is changin'

Right now there must be a difference,

Between you and me is I'm the ultra mega,

And you just like to be!”

 

Scenes of the IGNWO with Wilson guiding it flicker past, noting his indomitable career and the capture of the World Title, all the way up till G2 a year ago.

 

“Ultra mega supersonic.”

 

Flashes of a figure walking towards a lone manor in the distance.

 

“Ultra mega for your head.”

 

The figure walks through darkened halls.

 

“Ultra mega get up jump in.”

 

Opens a door to a large room, a fire flicking away in it.

 

“Ultra mega until you're dead!”

 

And Chris Wilson’s eyes widen as he looks into the face of a man he thought he had killed.

 

“One foot back on the Earth this time.”

“I can't stand to feel this way.”

“Almost even.”

“Almost perfect.”

“Almost never.”

“Almost worth it.”

“Now there must be a difference,”

“Between us and the ground.”

“Is the ultra mega was the only sound, go!”

 

A cascade of images of a bare chest Divefire going against figures of the IGNWO and other IGNWF superstars plays back, ultimately though Chris Wilson remains just out of the ninja’s grasp.

 

“Ultra mega supersonic.”

 

JD taunts the Thugg from promo to promo.

 

“Ultra mega for your head.”

 

Tearing apart former comrades of the reformed big man.

 

“Ultra mega get up jump in.”

 

Finally getting Thugg into the ring and the two soundly beating the shit out of each other until..

 

“Ultra mega until you're dead.”

 

A masked man leaps into the fray, drilling the Thugg with vicious kicks and punches until he reveals himself as Divefire and helping JD to victory.

 

“Ultra mega supersonic.”

 

Wilson and Divefire stare hard into one another across the ring.

 

“Ultra mega for your head.”

 

They trade vicious blows, slamming each other into canvass and ring post.

 

“Ultra mega get up jump in.”

 

Both men fly into each other at high speed, clashing together with almighty impact.

 

“Ultra mega until you're dead!”

 

And the video package explodes out, leading back to images of an arena filled to capacity that the camera’s pan over, the fans screaming loudly after the violent cascade that was the presentation for the upcoming match.

 

“You can feel that history is in the making here tonight in the PNE Coliseum in Vancouver, Canada!” Stevens yells over the noise of the crowds. “If you thought the crowds were hot for the US Title match, you ain’t seen nothing yet!”

 

“What?” Riley balks from besides his fellow commentator. “You’re going insane Steven’s, the next match is going to be huge but we’re only going to see it from the camera or have you forgotten it’s a Vancouver Streetfight between these two old enemies?”

 

“I haven’t forgotten that, Riley! I was just thinking about the helicopter we’ve got in the sky ready to track this fight where ever it goes and the four camera teams ready to get close in on the action!” Steven’s returns, thanking the notes in front of him.

 

“Yeah well rather them then me.” Riley mutters quickly. “You thought the hardcore match we had earlier on was violent, I get the feeling Wilson and Divefire are going to tear each other apart. This one’s been brewing for a long time and tonight it’s going to erupt!”

 

“Well lets hope the heat and adrenaline these two give each other is enough to chase off the cold from outside, latest reports say it’s only just above freezing out there and to cap it all of it’s raining as well.” Steven shakes his head slightly at the weather report.

 

“Hard weather for hard men!” Riley bites back quickly, then looks to Stevens with sharp eyes. “Not. A. Word.”

 

Stevens holds up his hands defensively as the huge oversized Genesis 3 SmarkTron™ sparks to life, showing the outside lobby area of the arena. “That’s the signal, this fight is ready to begin folks, all we need is the mastermind and the ninja to make their appearances!”

 

In the lobby a well waterproofed referee awaits the arrival of the two men, he looks down one hall way as Chris Wilson strides down the hall, dressed deliberately in his black trench coat among his normal wrestling attire. For once he forgoes his Ruby Juliet Oakleys in preparation to get straight down to business. His features are fixed in a business like expression, tense with determination of the battle to come.

 

The crowds in the arena boo so loud and hard that even in the lobby the noise can be heard, making Wilson sneer towards the centre of the building. As his gaze moves, from the shadows his advisory makes himself known. Stepping out into the light in most of his normal wrestling get up, though in place of his medium length leather jacket, Divefire wears a substantial looking motorbike jacket, evidently made from manmade fibres and padded out with protective armour.

 

“Both of these men look as if they’re ready to take this fight anywhere, even in this weather.” Stevens utters for the audiences at home.

 

“Yeah and who knows what they’ve got hiding in the pockets of those jackets… I tell you Mark, I’ve got a bad feeling about this one…” Riley interjects, shifting a little in his seat as he watches the feed from the lobby.

 

The referee goes over the rules one more time as Wilson and Divefire stare into each others eyes, full of menace and hate for what the other represents in their lives. The referee asks if they understand the rules and the two men nod slightly, giving the zebra the imputes to back of and signal the start of the fight.

 

Neither man moves. Instead they stay as statues, watching each other for the first signs of movement or weakness, a clear shot for the other to become decisive in. Slowly a cold smile washes over Wilson’s face and then he lets out an elaborate sigh, looking to the roof of the lobby for a moment and then shaking his head. “Come now Divefire…” The mastermind speaks clearly enough for the camera mics to pick him up. “Are we going to stand here all night and watch each other? Hardly what I’d expect from a man of your talents.”

 

Divefire in turn tilts his head to one side, his eyes cold for a moment before a smirk shifts over his lips. “Heh… No.” And the fire erupts, a left hand cracking out and only Wilson’s on edge reactions leaning him back from the fist connecting on his jaw. The follow up turning back elbow though slams neatly into the side of his face, knocking him back a step as Divefire continues to spin and brings his right foot through 360 degrees to drive a crescent kick into the same spot, sending Wilson crashing back into a wall.

 

Wilson slumps against the wall for a second, before on instinct he rolls to one side as Divefire charges in with a quick flying kick. Wilson charges back in as Divefire lands from the kick on his feet, trying to spear the ninja to the floor of the lobby, but Divefire spins past the charge, watching as Wilson’s momentum carries him to the plate glass that lines the entrance of PNE Coliseum. Quickly, Divefire sprits for Wilson, once again launching himself through the air for another perfectly executed flying kick. But Wilson is ready this time, grabbing the ninja in the air and lending his own weight and momentum to Divefire’s, driving him right through the plate glass window with sickening smash and the splintering of highly expensive glass.

 

Wilson stands and shakes off some of the glass from his leather trench coat, looking out into the half gloom of the rain swept Canadian night for his advisory. Stepping through the smashed remains of the window, Wilson enters the elements with a frown, the rain quickly soaking his hair such is its intensity. With a glance he finds the downed frame of his opponent and steps over to him, wrapping his hand around the collar of the face down ninja and starting to hall him to his feet. And Divefire explodes of the ground with a roar of emotion, slamming a hard uppercut into the jaw of Wilson and rocking him back on his heals.

 

“Is that all you’ve got?!” Divefire screams to Wilson who shakes his head to get his focus back as the ninja drives a hand into Wilson’s gut, nearly doubling him over. Another elbow drives into Wilson’s back, forcing more air out of his body before Divefire pauses a second to wipe a line of blood from his eyes. Wilson takes his chance and grabs Divefire around the waist and charges him with all the force he can muster from his legs into the trunk of a near by car, slamming Divefire’s back hard into the metal and stunning him for just a second. Wilson keeps the momentum going and drives a series of knees into Divefire’s gut, trying to wear him down, but all the knees seem to do is get him even angrier as he slams his tensed palms into the side of Wilson’s head, halting the attack.

 

Divefire grabs a hold of the back of Wilson’s neck and moves to the side of his advisory, slamming Wilson’s head right into the corner of the car trunk. The impact sends out a hard and hollow sound of metal on bone, made all the worse by the water that pours off the car. Wilson clutches at the corner of his forehead before Divefire shows no remorse and repeats the move, once again the sound of metal on bone echoes out.

 

Wilson clutches at his head again and staggers back, swearing in pain as Divefire leads him around to the drivers side of the car. Once again Divefire grabs a hold of the back of Wilson’s neck, this time with two hands through and with a growl slams Wilson’s head into the back window of the car. For the second time tonight the sound of splintering glass echoes out as Wilson’s head goes right through the window.

 

Divefire pulls Wilson’s head from the glass, admires his handy work for a moment and then goes for a repeat manoeuvre. Though this time he pulls Wilson back a step, who still seams rather stunned from the blows to his head, grabs him by the collar and shirt, spins him around once and bodily hurls him into the drivers side window of the car. This time Wilson’s head, shoulders and arms go clean through the window of the car and his body visibly slumps.

 

With a modicum of satisfaction, Divefire steps forward and starts to pull Wilson from the car. Just as Wilson’s arms clear the less then pristine vehicle, he slams what looks to be a steering wheel lock right into the gut of Divefire, slamming the Brit back a step and doubling him over. Wilson is quick to push his advantage, despite his slightly dazed state and slams what amounts to a bar of steel into the back of Divefire’s head, slumping him to the ground.

 

Wilson wipes a stream of blood from his forehead; anger flaring as his head pulses with pain and with a yank he hurls the now dazed Divefire onto the hood of the car. Still with the steering wheel lock in his hand he rears back and slams the bar right down onto the kneecaps of Divefire, this time making the Brit let out a yell of pain and proving that he is human. To this, Wilson smirks and rears back again for another blow but for his troubles he gets a boot to the face, though it’s rather unfocused. It’s enough to give Wilson pause though and Divefire scrambles back on the hood of the car and stands on the slippery metal, favouring one of his legs.

 

With a cry of malice, Wilson charges forward again and overhead swings the bar of steel, just missing Divefire and making a sizeable dent in the hood of the car. The impact is enough make Divefire slip on the hood and slam down onto his ass, Wilson tries to push this advantage, going for another swing of his impromptu weapon. But Divefire manages to bring his hands up to catch the weapon on the downward arc and gives Wilson another more focused boot to the face, forcing him back a step. Divefire slides off the hood and tosses the weapon away, looking to Wilson with venom.

 

Divefire then starts to drive a series of left and right hands into Wilson’s face again, the impact stinging them both more then normal, accentuated as they are by the rain that pours off both their faces. Divefire finishes the cascade of blows by locking up with Wilson and forcing him down into a front face lock. Though as Divefire goes to kick his own legs out and drive Wilson’s forehead down into the wet tarmac, Wilson fights back and powers himself upright, literally tossing Divefire’s lighter frame over his shoulder and sending him to the tarmac of the parking lot back first.

 

Wilson wastes no time in sending his black boots slamming into Divefire’s chest and abdomen, even as the Brit tries to roll away from the impacts and to his feet. As Divefire groggily tries to stand Wilson takes a few running steps and plants a hard punt kick right into Divefire’s midsection, lifting him bodily off his feet and into a foetus like curl. Wilson smiles sickly to himself and walks over to Divefire again, picking him up by the collar and forcing him to stand on unsure feet. He starts to walk the smaller man to the busy roadway that feeds the PNE Coliseum.

 

Cars and trucks flash by, headlights being splintered apart by the falling rain as Wilson starts to slam his knees into Divefire’s weakened midsection, doubling the ninja over and finally forcing him to his knees. Wilson smiles a sick smile before he rears back a foot and slams it clean into Divefire’s face, making him fall back to the pavement.

 

Wilson starts to move himself now, grabbing hold of Divefire’s legs and stepping between them, then wrapping them into a figure four leg lock. The referee who up until now has been keeping a safe distance suddenly steps out of the shadows and looks down as Wilson finishes sinking in the figure four. Divefire’s face is wracked with pain but before he can refuse to submit to the move he notices something else, Wilson pushing his body towards the road…

 

With the will to live, Divefire tries to fight out of the hold, arching his body as his head inches closer and closer to the fast moving traffic that seems oblivious to the struggle for life that is taking place at the side of the road way. But even as Divefire fights he can feel the futility of the struggle as every time he tries to arch out of it the pressure on his legs grows immensely. He looks out to the flow of traffic once more and sees a gap and in an instant comes up with a plan that Jackie Chan would balk at.

 

With Wilson pushing Divefire down into the roadway, Divefire starts to pull himself into the road with his arms, getting a look of surprise from Wilson as he tries to work out the ninja’s game plan. To late though he realises it, as he finds himself being pulled into the flow of traffic, a slight look of panic washes over his face as the sound of an air horn blasts at the two figures sprawling in the road.

 

“Pop quiz hot shot.” Divefire smirks across to Wilson. “What do you do?!” The tremor of the onrushing juggernaut grows bigger and Wilson looks into the bright headlights, knowing that at that speed the truck has no chance of stopping. With one final look twisted between bitterness and fright, Wilson unwraps his legs from Divefire’s and rolls back onto the verge, losing sight of the ninja as the truck rushes past, horn still blazing.

 

Wilson stands on the verge, breathing hard as the watches the trailer disappear and then stares into the darkness of the roadway, trying to find the remains of Divefire. But his expression shifts to shock as a fast moving foot drives into his head again, forcing him a stumbling step back. Divefire lands from the kick with a wince and grimace, feeling the effects of the figure four all to well. But still the anger beats back the pain and he grabs the stunned Wilson by the head and leads him out into the traffic stream, while crashing right hands into Wilson’s head.

 

The sounds of car horns and screeching tyres fills the air as the mastermind and the ninja start to brawl away across the roadway. Cars quickly swerving or coming to a halt around the two as they fight, exchanging hard lefts and rights, quickly powering into each other and trying to overpower the other, ignoring the terror and dangers of the speeding vehicles. Then with the sound of metal on metal, cars start slamming into each other, one after the other, causing the whole roadway to come to a halt and illuminating the two figures in the headlights of a dozen cars.

 

Blows are exchanged rapidly again, fists crashing into each other bodies, the determination and finality of this conflict making them forget the fatigue that builds up in their muscles from the cold and the rain. Wilson tries to drive Divefire’s head into the hood of one of the recently crashed cars but Divefire blocks it with a foot on the hood. Quickly though Wilson moves and picks Divefire up slams him back to the ground with a impromptu atomic drop that leaves Divefire sprawling for a moment. Wilson takes the pause to pull himself free of his now soaking through trench coat, tossing it across one of the cars and stomping down on Divefire once more with his boots, feeling that much lighter for having to read of the rain sodden coat.

 

Divefire though, soaks up the blows and with a snarl catches one of the feet that Wilson tries to stomp him with and spins his body into a dragon screw take down, twisting Wilson around to the hard and unforgiving tarmac. With Wilson sprawling on the tarmac, stunned for a moment Divefire keeps his grip on the ankle and pulls himself to his feet, before picking up Wilson’s leg then slamming his knee down into the tarmac, then again and again. Each time faster and harder then the last. Grabbing Wilson by the collar, Divefire looks up and spies a rest from the weather, with the neon flashing lights of a bar across the street.

 

Quickly he forces Wilson to his feet and with a heavy, throws him into a stagger across the street. Then with a limping burst of speed he leaps into the air, grabs Wilson around the neck and bulldogs his partner in death right through the bar’s front door. The doormen scatter for their lives as two SWF superstars burst through the ornate doors in a painful heap of sodden bodies.

 

A group of drunken, surly Canadians watching the PPV and the Vikings/Seahawk game on televisions while playing the usual rounds of billiards and darts turn to see two rain-soaked, bloody and very pained men lying in a heap inside the door. Divefire grabs Wilson by the back of his neck and drags him up to his feet, throwing him chest first into the bar as the patrons there spread and begin to gather around. Divefire drives hard elbows into the back of Wilson’s head, Wilson’s face bouncing off of the wooden counter. The ninja then uses his surroundings to his advantage, grabbing one of the half-empty beer mugs and smashing it over the back of Wilson’s skull.

 

The evil genius slumps down, ale now mixing with the dirty rain in his hair. Divefire grabs one of the stools and winds up, preparing to deliver a home run blow to the Magnificent Seven leader’s back. He swings down with deadly force, but Wilson rolls out of the way and the sturdy stool is no match for the oaken bar and Divefire’s strength, splintering into pieces as it comes crashing down on no one. The former world champion turns and immediately takes a low blow from a bleeding and drained Chris Wilson. He rises up from the ground with an uppercut that catches the street fighter across the chin and sends him stumbling back through the Red Sea-like crowd and towards the billiard tables. A friendly game of pool is ruined as Divefire goes spilling across the table, scattering the remaining balls off the edges of the table. Wilson smiles as he grabs a cue off of a player and gets a tight grip on it. He swings hard, cracking it across the small of Divefire’s back. The Brit cringes as pain flashes up and down his spine, and Wilson reloads. He snaps it down again, this time the cue snapping in half as it breaks across the rippling shoulders of the ninja.

 

Divefire tries to reset his vertical position by pushing up on the table, but the strength just isn’t there and he finds his face being planted onto the green table repeatedly, Wilson slamming his nose down with all of his might. The manipulative maniac grabs the flaming Brit by the collar of his rain-soaked jacket and yanks him away from the table. He completes a three-quarter turn while holding onto the coat before releasing his prey and sending him into the jukebox with a nose dive. Glass shatters and Divefire is once again trying to find the strength to stand, but it just isn’t there as the evil genius stalks over to the bar.

 

“Bottle of whiskey,” he demands from the barkeep, and quickly finds a bottle of Jack Daniels in his hand. He opens it and walks along the bar, splashing it over the wood grain surface. He covers a large portion of the bar and tosses the empty bottle over his shoulder nonchalantly before turning in circles looking for another piece of the puzzle. He finds it as he notices a man smoking near the edge of the crowd that had formed around him.

 

“Gotta light?” asks Wilson as friendly as he can with blood completely covering his face, some now spread to his chest and arms. The man obliges, and Wilson’s got an old Zippo lighter to work with. He lets out a sinister laugh as he flicks it open and a flame shoots out. He stares at the flickering for a moment before tossing it onto the bar and promptly causing fire to run out in both directions, rising high and heating up. Screams echo through the establishment as Wilson turns to recollect his soggy, bloody and hurting opponent, but as he does so, Divefire sprints at him.

 

Wilson catches a Shining Wizard right to the jaw, and he rolls right over top of the flaming bar and rattles into a rack of hard liquor. He woozily stands up as Divefire hops from the floor to the bar, six-inch high flames rising up around him as he beckons for Wilson to join him in the dance of death. Fire flashes into the hardened eyes of the Miami native and he hops up onto the bar as well, fire dancing beneath and around his black military boots. Divefire gazes at him, the fire having no effect on the man that’s spit in the face of death more than once. As the two men stare at each other, Divefire pulls off his jacket fluidly, and continuing the motion throws it right at Wilson.

 

The wet, heavy material is knocked away by the former ICTV champion, but it provides the brief opening for Divefire to spring into action. He crosses the space between competitors in a matter of moments and unleashes a barrage of palm strikes that splash across Wilson. He moves onto a right hook that crosses the side of Wilson’s mouth, following through by grabbing his right wrist with his left hand for added oomph, and jerking it back through Wilson’s mouth. He jams a knee up into his gut to double him over before spinning around in reverse thrust kick that catches Wilson in the mouth and sends him off the back of the bar and into a neon “Budweiser” clock, shattering it before dropping to the ground.

 

“Come on, you son of a bitch!” shouts Divefire as the flames begin to die out, unable to dig through to the wooden part of the lacquered bar. “You can’t beat me!” He leaps off the bar as Wilson tries to right himself, and uses the momentum of gravity to snap out a kick into Wilson’s jaw. It connects and Wilson falls face-first to the dirty floor. Divefire grabs him from behind and forces him through the door to the back, and immediately there’s a large dose of confusion.

 

As the camera tries to get around the bar to follow the action, the camera switches to the SWF “Eye in the Sky”. The helicopter’s spotlight illuminating the alley behind the bar as a door swings open and the black form of Chris Wilson is tossed into a pile of wet, black and very reeking garbage bags, sending who knows what to go bumping back into the night. A moment later, Divefire strides out into alleyway and begins to land blow after blow on a helpless Wilson. He grabs the man he faced at Snake Eyes nearly a year and a half ago around the front of his tank top and jerks him up, lifting him up into the air with his steely strength. He leans close in, but any words he says are inaudible as Divefire throws him into a large puddle, water splashing up as two hundred and seventy throw pounds comes thundering down into it.

 

The cameraman finally makes his way, along with the referee, back into the alley as Divefire grabs a tarnished silver garbage can and raises it above his head. He takes a step towards Wilson, now firmly on his hands and knees trying to get up, and slams it down onto the back of his head. He drops to the slick asphalt, cheek stinging as tiny rocks poke at the already raw skin. He lifts Wilson up and slams him back against a brick wall. He lines up for another shot, but Wilson looks up and sees the bottom rungs of a fire escape ladder right above him. He reaches up and grabs them, lifting himself up and delivering a hard kick to the ninja Brit as he charges at him. In a display of great athletic ability, Wilson pulls out of a modified iron cross and begins to climb up the ladder to the bottom level of the fire escape. He looks down at Divefire, then starts to climb up with the thin and very slippery stairs. Divefire flips up to his feet and looks up at the Magnificent Seven leader running from him, and decides its time to pursue.

 

Divefire takes a few steps and leaps into the air, grabbing onto the wet, rusted metal and beginning to climb up the ladder in hot pursuit of Wilson. Chris looks down again to see Divefire pulling himself up on the first level and beginning to climb the steps up towards him. Wilson curses and tries to find a weapon, desperately attempting to wrench one of the railings free from the joints. The escape it rusted, but not badly enough for to free a piece for use as a club, and he heads towards the ladder that will take him to the third level. He rounds the correct side to climb, but his hesitation in trying to find a weapon costs him dear as Divefire reaches the top of the steps and leaps at Wilson, who remains in the middle of the ladder. A hard kick catches him right in the gut and the evil genius is jettisoned from the ladder and he starts to fly over the railing, but he manages to grab on with one hand to stop his descent before shooting the other one up and latching on as well.

 

Divefire walks over to him and looks down at his handicapped foe. Wilson hangs nearly twenty feet above a dumpster, his face twisted into a visage of yearning and fear.

 

“Help me!” shrieks Wilson as he hangs perilously, trying to pull himself up. The camera peers upward, the lights from cars passing beside the one entrance to the alley shining brightly periodically, illuminating the two men high in the Canadian sky. Divefire strides over to the edge and looks down at Wilson, uncaring as his mortal enemy’s grip begins to slip free of the slick metal. “God damn it, save me!” earnestly implores the manipulative maniac. “This is what you want. You’re afraid of me so you’re just gonna let me die here! Go to hell!”

 

The rain-soaked, blood-drenched and battle-weary ninja looks down at Wilson one more time, but on this occasion he reaches his arm down and Wilson grabs it, clasping his hand around the forearm of Divefire as the Brit does the same to him. He starts to pull him back up onto the platform suspended on the side of the building, but Wilson’s face curls up into a smile.

 

“See you in hell, you stupid bastard.” He pulls all of his weight back onto the arm still holding onto the railing, and pulls Divefire towards the railing with all of his strength, their moulded grips unable to break without Wilson’s consent. There’s little the surprised street fighter can do as Wilson pulls him over the railing of the fire escape and sends him plummeting down towards the ground-

 

THWACK!

 

-and right into the open dumpster! In doing this, Wilson strains his grip on the wet railing, and as he flails about in the air, there’s no way he can reassert his grip and his fingers end up slipping free as well, the black symbol of evil and hate now falling down through the cold Canadian night as well-

 

THWACK!

 

-and landing in the dumpster beside Divefire! The two men lie there stoically, the camera unable to get a shot inside, so we switch back to the helicopter shot. Two aching bodies lie side by side in the dumpster, limbs strewn everywhere as both men try to make their way out. Slowly Divefire pulls himself up first, leaning over the edge of the dumpster and breathing heavily. Bits of trash are in his hair, but he ignores them as flops over the top of the trash container and lands in the pile of garbage bags to break his fall. He drunkenly stands again and teeters around to peer up at Wilson, whose standing up in the dumpster and looking down at him. Chris Wilson turns away from Divefire and hops off the edge of dumpster, falling to the ground and landing in a crouch, splashing up unnoticeable water in the driving rain.

 

Divefire rushes at him, driving a shoulder into his chest and slamming him up against the brick wall once again. He repeats the move, jamming himself into Wilson’s midsection again and again, just to reiterate the pain shooting up and down his torso. He releases and kicks him hard in the stomach before slapping on a side headlock and leading him through a small gate out the back of the alley.

 

They’re now on a seldom-used street, an old car broken is down here and some low-rent apartment buildings stretch up a few stories into the sky. A streetlight here and there is the only illumination, leaving small pools of light in the large ocean of darkness dominating the Vancouver evening. Rain cascades down through the light, splintering the little glow available into a million fragmented pieces. Divefire and Wilson, along with the cameraman and referee walk down out onto this prehistoric boulevard, the former dragging the latter unwillingly along with him.

 

As Divefire drags Wilson along the side headlock, with grip loosens and Wilson throws him forward, cracking his skull off of one of the light posts. Divefire crumples to the ground, and Wilson doubles over, catching his breath and desperately trying to find some source of energy deep down. He collects himself and takes a step forward, slamming the tip of his boot into Divefire’s gut and flipping the ninja over onto his back.

 

“Midnight,” booms Wilson as he resets for another kick, “not a sound on the pavement.” He blasts another boot into Divefire’s side as he walks along. “Has the moon lost its memory?” BAM! Another kick. “It is smiling above.” He tries for a another stomp on the reeling Divefire, but the speedy Brit grabs him around the ankle and twists him down to the ground with a modified dragon screw leg whip. Divefire pulls himself up to his feet and grabs the bottom of his black shirt, pulling it up above his head and discarding the soggy and garbage-ridden article of clothing to the side. Wilson tries to use the lamppost to help him to his feet, but Divefire gives him the assistance he needs, throwing him towards a set of cement stairs that Wilson goes crashing into.

 

The evil genius winces as he hits the decades-old concrete, forearms bouncing mercilessly off of the corners of the stairs. Divefire grabs the back of Wilson’s shirt and leads him up the dozen or so steps it takes to reach the top and the rotting, once beautiful wooden door. He throws Wilson up against it, the two men momentarily saved from the freezing rain as the small indentation in the building protects them from the unforgiving precipitation. He steps back and jams a Fire Kick deep into Wilson’s jaw, rattling the back of his head against the door. He resets himself, stares at Wilson for a moment, then lets lose the Fear of the Flames. Wilson drops to the ground immediately upon impact, shaken up as Divefire reaches down and peels off his opponent’s tank top. The thin material is even soaked to the point it feels like wool, and Divefire spins it into a thick chord.

 

He leans over and wraps it around Wilson’s throat, yanking backwards and jerking Wilson back up into the air. No emotion crosses the vengeful man’s face as he moves on with his business, strangling Wilson with all of his might. The manipulative maniac struggles to turn towards the door, but Divefire easily steers him away and towards the steps. Wilson can do nothing but crawl towards the rusted railing and chipped stairway, the referee looking from a distance to make sure the evil genius is still conscious. He is, and as he reaches the edge of the stairs, he consumes all of the strength and energy in his body and uses and that size advantage in the best way he can. Reaching up and inserting his fingers between the fabric and the flesh of the neck, he jerks it forward in the same motion he leans towards the steps harshly, tossing Divefire in a modified snap mare over his shoulders…

 

There’s nothing the pissed-off, flaming, ninja Brit can do as he’s jettisoned forward over Wilson’s shoulder and comes crashing down onto the steps. In a fair world, he would have stopped abruptly right there, but between the slick conditions and momentum, he bounces awkwardly over and hits the cement again. And again. And again. Body parts already screaming in pain have those screams silenced as the screams are of no solace to Divefire, body finally coming to a stop. But not after rolling down a flight of cold, hard and wet cement stairs that leave his lying motionlessly at the base in a heap, rain pounding down on the pathetic, shirtless form.

 

Wilson looks down at his handiwork and a sick, twisted smile slithers across his shadowed face. He pulls himself up on the railing and slowly begins to descend to the street below, where Divefire continues to lie there, no movement coming from the fallen ninja. Wilson clasps onto the railing as he walks down, steadying his lacklustre balance. As he reaches the bottom pieces of the railing, it breaks free from the jointing, and Wilson smiles as he holds a piece of rusted, yet still very useful, steel pipe in his hand.

 

He takes the last step down to the sidewalk and he kicks Divefire over onto his back, jamming the sole of his boot underneath his jaw to hold him there.

 

“I told you I’d kill you!” screams Wilson, raining pouring down around him and his figure illuminated by the shallow orange streetlight. “You didn’t listen!” Divefire’s face is barely a blank stare as he looks up at Wilson, caked blood mixing with rain and smeared across his once handsome face like some ancient battle tattoos. “Well, now it’s time. Going out with a bang!” Wilson raises his new found weapon high into the air, holding Divefire firm to the cement with his boot, and he brings the pipe down, swinging it with lethal intent and enough force of a fatal blow…

 

…but Divefire swings his arms up and catches it! His eyes snap open as he looks up and feels the stare of a frightened and very unsure Wilson, who’s vainly trying to pull the pipe out of Divefire’s grip. He starts to shake as he stretches backwards, using all of the leverage he can to pry his weapon free of Divefire’s crushing grip. He’s not getting anywhere until Divefire does the least expected thing:

 

Let’s go.

 

Wilson goes tumbling back onto his ass to the cement, pipe skittering into the darkness as both men slowly rise up to their feet, forcing their battered and bruised bodies well past the normal realms of endurance and their gazes lock once more. What was once hate has gone far beyond that now, both feeling the cold realisation of what the other man will do to finally settle this score. With a silent roar Wilson charges forward and unleashes a knife-edge chop that scythes across the broad chest of Divefire, drops him to one knee. He uses that position to his advantage, spinning around with a leg sweep that catches Chris on the back of his ankles and brings his vertical base completely parallel to the ground, dropping him flat to his back. Divefire twirls the rest of the way up to his feet, but Wilson dives into his knees and cuts him down from below. With the ninja’s knees crumpled beneath him and body still reeling from the tumble down the stairway, Wilson reaches deep into one of his carpenter pockets and extracts a long strand of wire, soft light barely illuminating it in the darkening northern night.

 

Wilson spins behind Divefire and laces around a full nelson, stretching the piano wire across his throat at the same time. The man whose entire body is a weapon tries to free himself, moving along the sidewalk towards one of the broken down cars. The old, tan Caddy turns into a prop in the sprawling street fight as Wilson slips his leg around and tries for a piano wire-aided Platinum Nightmare. It’s a no go as Divefire slams the tip of his elbow into the naked abdomen of Wilson and breaks one of his arms free, ending the piano wire attack and giving him the chance to slip his leg around Wilson’s ankle and send him tumbling forward-

 

CRASH!

 

-and putting his head right through the driver’s side window! Wilson remains on his knees, hanging through the window as blood begins to stream down his back, aided by the rain. Divefire reaches back and undoes his sooty, dirty and soaked pony tail, shaking his head and letting the garbage ridden hair flow out into the night and taking a hard breath of the cold night air. With his expression stoic in its rage he crosses around to the other side of the car and punches through the passenger side window with out so much of a thought of the impact, reaching into the glove box. A lone streetlight hangs right above the car, enlightening both it and the street immediately beside it.

 

The grizzled veteran pulls away, but this time he has an object in his hand. A tire iron, rain already beginning to give it a sleek glow. Divefire stalks around to the left side of the car as Wilson extracts himself and reveals a bloody mess, pieces of glass still poking him in the flesh. Divefire doesn’t even hesitate as he turns the corner and swings his newfound weapon-

 

CRACK!

 

-and smashes it right across the jaw of Wilson! The evil genius’ jaw is either broken or very close to it as he drops down to his knees, clutching both hands up to his face as his body gleams in the limited light, a runny crimson tide working its way over him. Divefire isn’t bothered by the sight as he scoops Wilson up and drops him onto the roof of the car, hopping up onto the hood and climbing up with him. He slowly twists Wilson towards him and onto his knees, tire iron still in his hand. He holds his hand under Wilson’s chin for a moment, positioning him just right. Then he pulls back and takes a swing at Wilson’s temple that’s only goal of the blow involving a lot of flowers, a casket and a wake for his bitter enemy.

 

Be it simple exhaustion or sheer instincts honed from years of fighting for his life, Wilson ducks the shot and Divefire finds nothing but air. Well, air and Wilson’s forearm lodged right into his crotch. Another low blow is all the evil genius needs to drop Divefire to his knees on the hood of the car, tire iron dropped down to the ground. Wilson grabs him around the neck and slowly pulls him up onto the broad roof as he stands up, now preparing to end the fight in the fashion he chooses.

 

He pounds down on the back of the smaller Brit’s neck with some viscous forearms before standing up and slipping him into a front facelock. He hooks his leg around and turns his back to the sidewalk, prepared to sacrifice himself to jam Divefire’s skull into the cement with the Last Resort. The entire world watches in stunned silence as Wilson yanks back towards the edge of the car…

 

…and is knocked backward as Divefire shoots a modified Flame Out right into Wilson’s sternum!

 

The facelock being released is a prerequisite as Wilson’s body snaps up to full height, becoming rigid as he looks at Divefire with a sense of almost confusion. He starts to shake a little bit, nerves spasming tightly as the deadly palm strike’s effect becomes full blown. A moment later, Wilson is falling backwards, nothing in the cold, wet night prepared to stop him until he impacts the cement, bouncing as soft as one can when falling from a car to an unforgiving surface.

 

Fallen to one knee on the car and fighting the urge to drop further, Divefire peers down at Wilson, showing little surprise at what he just did. With a harsh shake of his head, he slides off the car into the street and begins to circle again, looking in earnest for that damned tire iron. The ninja doesn’t see it, and decides to just go back to the best weapon he has available at the moment: His body.

 

He lifts a stoic Wilson up and leans him up against the side of the car again; the man who has warranted himself a thousand accolades in his life nothing but a shell of his former self. He leans against the car seemingly with a benevolent innocence about him. Blood continues to pour from his face and a hundred other small wounds all over his body, his bare chest gleaming in the rain-splintered light. Divefire takes a few steps back, muscles coiling and rippling as he takes a short hop into the air, lands and pushes off…

 

Driving his foot into Wilson’s chin with the Fire Power! On impact of the flying superkick, Wilson actually lifts off of the ground and slides over the glossy hood and into the street. The air is driven out of him as his shoulders crash into the ground and his entire body is folded up like a sickly accordion. Divefire quickly rounds the front of the car, and he prepares to finish off whatever is left of the evil genius.

 

And so it is, one streetlight illuminating two men. One pristine circle of light surrounded by cold, hard darkness. But it’s not to stay like this for long, as another player steps out of the shadows, swinging a discus with both hands. Divefire doesn’t even see it coming as the manhole cover crashes over the back of his head, enough force in it to cave in his skull, enough power to kill a man.

 

The manhole cover is tossed to the side, rattling loudly to a stop in the quiet night. A man’s upper half is covered by shadows, and as he steps into the light his true form is seen:

 

“The Franchise” Mak Francis.

 

A smile is across his face, even after a 2/3 fall war with the Canadian Intelligence Agent, and now he’s doing what he’s been wanting to do since the sWo was formed under Chris Wilson. He grabs an unconscious Divefire from the ground, and in an extreme case of overkill, sets him up for a fisherman’s suplex.

 

No, not a suplex. That would be too kind on the assaulted man. Instead, he lifts him up into the air and spikes him down to the cement with the Franchise Tag, the referee nearly throwing up at the disgusting display. Divefire’s neck nearly snaps as he bounces over onto his back, sprawled out, half in the shadows, half in the light as the rain continues to come down. Mak leans down and grabs the equally unconscious Wilson, throwing him on top of Divefire as millions of fans the world over curse together. Those that are still able to look at the screen.

 

And the finish comes as two completely bloody and unconscious warriors lie in the middle of a barren Canadian street, soaked in their own and each other’s blood while heavy drops of rain pound them a billion times over. It just happens that one man’s shoulders are flat to the street, while the other lies on top of him. Mak throws the referee down to the pile, and he begins to count. Hand sickly slapping the wet asphalt.

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THREE!

 

Wilson isn’t able to celebrate as the bell rings back at the PNE Center and the entire crowd begins to boo. The referee stands back up, shaking his head at the bodies strewn across the street. In the distance, an ambulance siren is heard. Make that sirens. Plural. Two ambulances. And somewhere at a Canadian emergency room, they ready for two men that are going to need a lot of painkillers and a lot work done if they are to make it through the night. “The Franchise” Mak Francis, another new member of the Magnificent Seven, strides back into the darkness as the camera settles upon a chilled “Grand Slam” Mark Stevens and Bobby Riley. Neither man looking very eager to talk.

 

“Well, folks,” is all that Stevens can say, “I’m not really sure what to say. We just saw some things I hope I never see again, and doubt we ever will see.”

 

Riley shivers in the heated arena, a sudden cold taking over him as the realisation dawns that one of the few people he calls a friend is lying in a Canadian ally bleeding to death. “That was simply…I’m not sure…disturbing is probably the best word. That was Chris Wilson’s final match, possibly if he wants it to be or not after the damage he sustained.”

 

“If that’s the way he wanted to go out,” sighs Stevens, staring at the camera, “I suppose that’s the best way for it to happen. He went out on top, but at what cost? And will Divefire ever be able to recover from that sprawling, cinematic, not a match…but a fight. A street fight. And what a fight it was…”

 

“I’ll tell you one thing Stevens, if Divefire makes it back from that assault, Mak Francis is a dead man…” Riley concludes with vehemence, a cold look clear on his face as the SmarkTron™ fades into the montage for the battle of the Australians. A disturbed Vancouver crowd looks on but not really sure it wants to see anymore after witnessing the destruction of two great men…

[Guest BA_Baracus]

"The beautiful night sky outside provides a stunning backdrop for the PNE Colloseum, even though some would argue the SWF could have sprung the money for a better arena. In any case, as the sign out front indicates, we are "SOLD OUT!" Here tongiht, and as pictures from inside the arena show, the crowd are the most vocal they've been all year, as the first half of the card comes to a close, only to open up a whole new chapter, as feuds come to a head here tonight, at Genesis III..."

 

"Hey, the narrator is taking our lines Stevens!"

 

"Just shutup and listen..."

 

The screen fades to black, as home movies of Andrew Loire and Jay ... Axis' childhood play on the screen, something we've never seen before.

 

"No bigger feud than one between the first two Australian's in this league, Axis and Sacred..."

 

"The picture on the screen shows a young Axis and Sacred, playing in a backyard in Adelaide, their child hood home. They put their arm around each other and proclaim "Friends forever!" If only they knew what would happen that would lead to today's events..."

 

"As young boys, they couldn't be torn apart, they were the best of friends, all the way throug school, wrestling school, university, they shared all of life's experiences together... Then, came the IGNWF... getting here was only a dream 20 years ago, but now it's a reality... but the IGNWF is a cruel and heartless corporation... the two tried their best to fight through their problems, but as each man strived to be succesful on their own, they drifted apart, their friendship slowly began to rot..."

 

"As they became more succesful on their own, a rivarly grew, and grew, and grew... neither man talked to the other, but in their minds they had to prove they were better than the other... "

 

"Tongiht, they'll face off... Each man with something to prove."

 

"Each with their own desires..."

 

The screen comes back to life as the fans cheer wildly, 'super-pumped' for the next match according to the Brady Bunch like family in the crowd. The cheers only get louder s "Nobody Like You" By Limp Bizkit kicks up, signalling the arrival of none other than Axis out he strides, raising his arm to the fans as they roar so loud they might blow the roof off the place.

 

"Here he comes..." Stevens says. "Returning for year and a half lay off, and back, with a chance at the SWF Heavyweight title, should be beat his former friend and ally Sacred!"

 

"Surprisingly..." Riley replies, making himself known. "This is the first meeting betwen the two in the Smarks Wrestling Federation, and if either man should win, you gotta know that they'll meet each other again in the future!"

 

"And Axis comes into this match, with the distinct weight and height advantage, but time and time again, that hasn't mattered as much smaller opponents, El Luchadore Magnifico for one, have proven size doesn't matter!"

 

"You just keep telling yourself that Mark..."

 

Axis strides down the rampway, glancing at the fans either side of him, pointing out the Axis friendly banners and slapping hands with the fans, being more animated then he's ever been before. Funyon stands in the ring, decked out in his snappy and swank tuxedo, ready to do his duty...

 

Axis climbs the steel steps and enters the ring, taking the time to share a handshake with old friend Funyon, who smiles, before shouting into his microphone, "The following match is a No-Disqualification, and No interference match for the number one contendership to the Smarks Wrestling Federation Heavyweight Championship!" The fans pop hard, and I mean hard, as Axis nods his head approvingly, wanting another shot at the title. He looks around at the security men at ringside, protecting the ring from interference. "Introducing first, from Adelaide Australia, standing 6'9" and weighing 327 pounds... a former two-time ICTV champion, Australian champion and Junior League European champion... please welcome back... AXIIIIIISSSSSSSS!"

 

Suddenly, the screen begins to distort and go all fuzzy, and already the fans begin to boo, as small clips of wars, riots and general chaos begin to play...

 

The screen goes black...

 

"This man has been on a roll lately, and normally I wouldn't give him a chance against Sacred, but he's already beat the world champion..."

 

"Some say...' Riley relpies, spreading the office gossip. "If Axis hadn't interfered in Sacred's life, he could be fighting for the title here TONIGHT at Genesis III!"

 

"Whatever the case may be, this will me a match to remember for a long time to come, both of these men are personal favourites of mine." Stevens says with a smile.

 

The camera returns to the arena, the picture reapearing. Everything is black and white, as "Save Yourself" By Stabbing Westward kick up. Sacred walks out, a looking at the crowd, the ring, looking determined. He stands there in the centre of the entranceway, as his arms slowly come up from his sides until they are outstretched. He looks at nobody but Axis as the fans jeer and taunt the little Aussie, but he doesn't care, he just spits from the corner of his mouth as he storms down the rampway. Funyon calls out as Sacred slides into the ring, ignoring the security personel on either side of him...

"And his opponent, also from Adelaide, Australia, standing six foot one and weighing two hundred and thirty one pounds... he is a member of Creative Control, with accomplishments too long to list... he is... SAAAAACCRRREEEEDDD!"

 

"Crazy Funyon..." Riley says with a smirk.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Axis and Sacred stand on opposite corners of the ring, staring deep into each other’s eyes, attempting to gain some sort of mental advantage. Almost simultaneously, both men begin to circle, not taking their eyes of each other.

 

“Both men anticipating their opponent’s first move here,” Stevens observes.

 

“It seems as if they are searching for a hint of mental weakness in one another,” says Riley, attempting to probe the situation. “But, I don’t think either one of them is going to find it. Both men are extremely fired up for this encounter, but must keep their emotions in check and concentrate deeply. The winner will forever have the title of being the best Aussie to grace the SWF.”

 

“I don’t like you sounding intelligent.”

 

Suddenly, Axis makes a big lunge to attempt to tie up with Sacred. However, realizing that he can’t out muscle Axis, Sacred ducks under the tie up attempt, standing up behind the surprised Axis. Axis spins around, straight into a solid forearm from Sacred! The blow to the cheekbone sends him staggering back into the ropes, surprised of the power of the blow. Sacred simply stares back at Axis, deciding not to take up the advantage.

 

“Sacred draws first blood, metaphorically speaking of course,” Stevens notes. “I think Axis was surprised at the power that the small man is packing in his arm.”

 

“I know first hand of how strong Sacred is when he wants to be,” Riley adds. “Those forearms pack a powerful sting. A quick flurry of them can easily dazzle an opponent. Although, in this case, I think Sacred’s trying to show Axis that he isn’t going to be a push over.”

 

Axis shows a rye smile at Sacred, all the while rubbing his sore check. He begins to circle Sacred again, carefully watching his every move. Sacred takes a few back steps, before sprinting off the ropes. Axis rears back and tries to remove Sacred’s head from his shoulders with a sturdy clothesline, but Sacred is able to duck under it in the nick of time. He continues on his way, sprinting off the opposite ropes. Axis spins around quickly, preparing for Sacred’s next attack. Sacred leaps into the air with a forearm extended! Axis instantly drops down to the mat, missing Sacred’s arm by mere millimeters! Sacred lands behind Axis, and both men scamper back up to their feet.

 

Sacred smacks Axis across the face with a few quick forearms, then, once again, backs into the ropes. He comes charging back towards his larger opponent. Axis however, is up to the challenge. He swings his arm at Sacred, smashing his biceps across the jaw of his smaller opponent. Sacred crashes to the mat, gripping desperately at his jaw.

 

“Already, Axis’ power and size advantage comes into play,” Stevens begins. “It was always going to be a factor at some stage in this match - but I didn’t think it would come into play so soon.”

 

“Sacred has to be very careful with his treatment of Axis,” Riley advises. “One slight mistake will result in him hitting his back on the canvas. Hard.”

 

Axis takes a few moments to shake off the forearms, before proceeding to help Sacred up to his feet. He crunches Sacred right in the jaw with a nasty right hand, sending Sacred stumbling back into a corner. Axis charges into the corner right after Sacred, but the nimble Australian is able to evade the charge, jumping out of Axis’ way. Axis sticks his arms up to absorb the blow of hitting the turnbuckles, and is successful to an extent. However, slouches into the corner, holding his back in pain after a quick fire dropkick from Sacred! Seeing how effective the first dropkick was, Sacred decides it could be useful to attempt another. He leaps up into the air, and plants both his feet into the back of Axis, causing him to yelp in pain.

 

Axis begins to make a move out of the corner, stumbling backward, but Sacred fires a vicious flurry of punches right to the spine, causing Axis to sink down to his knees in the corner. Sacred grabs Axis around the head, then pulls a dazed Axis back up to his feet. Grabbing the large arm of Axis, Sacred hurls Axis into the ropes. Axis comes to life, sprinting off the ropes hard! He takes aim at Sacred with a powerful clothesline… But Sacred ducks under it, grabs Axis’ outstretched arm, wraps it around his own neck, then pulls Axis against his own momentum, bringing him down hard to the mat with a neckbreaker - William Regal stylez!

 

“Knifey Spoony from Sacred!” Stevens shouts with excitement. “That’s the first big move of the match so far!”

 

“And what a move it is,” Riley adds. “The move is usually quite painful on its own. But combine that with the fact that Axis was jerked hard against his own momentum… And, well, you get the idea.”

 

Sacred rolls towards Axis, going for the cover… But, as if remembering Axis’ comments about Anna, he decides against it, instead opting to slap the downed Axis across the face - HARD! The crowd winces at the sound of it! Sacred pulls the former two-time ICTV champion to his feet… But Axis, incensed with the audacity of Sacred, simply slaps him back! The two men exchange words, as both men rub their wounds, as if to take away the stinging. Almost simultaneously, both men lunge towards each other, locking up. Sacred is immediately shoved into a corner. Using it to his advantage, Sacred sprints out of the corner, looking to hit Axis with a probable flying forearm. But before he can even contemplate getting airborne, Axis ducks forward, grabs Sacred’s thigh, then lifts him high into the air! Axis smashes Sacred’s face into the canvas with a nasty pancake!

 

“Damn, that HAD to hurt!” Stevens exclaims, as if he felt the blow himself.

 

“Nah,” Riley retorts with sarcasm. “It’s a wrestling match - why would a move possibly hurt? I mean, smashing someone’s face into the canvas? How could that hurt? I thought it was a move-”

 

“Shut up,” Stevens mumbles, cutting his partner off.

 

Axis gets back to his feet quickly, before pulling his opponent up by the hair. Axis hits Sacred in the face with a sturdy right hand, before whipping Sacred into the ropes. Sacred bounces back off the ropes, is grabbed around the shoulder and thigh by Axis, and is spun around into a solid powerslam, right into the middle of the canvas! Axis holds steady, hooking the leg for the first pinfall attempt of the match.

 

O

 

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T - Kick out at one and a half! Axis is not even remotely surprised, climbing back to his feet. Not happy with having to use his legs to support himself, Axis jumps up… And crushes Sacred’s chest with a nasty elbow drop! Sacred gasps for air following, but Axis isn’t in a giving mood, pulling the winded man up to his feet. Axis grabs the dazed Sacred by the shoulder and thigh, then lifts him high above his head in a guerilla press! Sacred acts swiftly, as he starts struggling like mad, and slips out of Axis’ grasp! He hits the canvas with both feet, as a confused Axis spins around… Right into a spinning heel kick! Axis staggers back into the corner, surprised by Sacred’s attack. Sacred charges towards Axis in the corner… But Axis steps out of the way, leaving Sacred with no choice but to go shoulder first into the ring post! Sacred literally bounces off the post back into the ring, gripping desperately at his shoulder!

 

“Sacred’s own momentum used against him!” Stevens explains. “His right shoulder just crashed hard into that ring post.”

 

Riley seems lost for words, "Sacred... probably.. .shuldn't have done that."

 

Stevens quizzes his partner, "Are you alright man? Nothing you need to tell me? Are you back on those painkillers?"

 

Riley seems insulted, "Of course not" Riley ducks his head under the desk, desperately wanting more beautiful pills, but Stevens brings him back up and shakes his head, and Riley pouts.

 

Axis shakes off the cobwebs, before climbing back up to his feet, with Sacred still desperately grips at his shoulder in pain. This does it for Axis, painting a big bulls eye on his right shoulder. Axis has no hesitation in lifting the smaller man up, dumping Sacred over his shoulder. Axis points Sacred’s head down to the mat, then drops Sacred shoulder first onto his knee with a nasty shoulder breaker! The first five rows almost wince at Sacred’s blood curdling scream.

 

“And already, Axis is taking advantage of that injured shoulder,” Stevens says, as if already starting to damn Sacred to lose the match. “He’s got himself in a very bad position here.”

 

“Too right,” Riley agrees. “A man Axis’ size will be able to decimate that shoulder in no time flat. That one brief mistake could end up costing Sacred the match. It's funny how Sacred was quick to favour that shoulder, he seems in a lot of pain, more than he should..." Riley says, suspicious.

 

Axis keeps a firm hold of Sacred after the shoulder breaker, pushing Sacred down hard into his knee. Sacred winces with pain, as his shoulder is forced back to impossible angles. Axis climbs back up to both feet, still holding Sacred, before dropping down across his knee with another shoulder breaker! But still, Axis is not done! He hoists Sacred back up again… But Sacred tilts all his weight down to his lower waist, pushing back on Axis’ head desperately! Axis tries hard to keep his balance, but cannot, as Sacred starts kicking furiously. Axis staggers backward, completely off balance, hitting the ropes. Sacred takes advantage, falling off Axis’ shoulder and outside onto the ring apron, grabbing at his shoulder in pain. Axis takes about a second to come back to his senses. He spins around, and spotting a wounded Sacred on the apron, he gives Sacred a hard boot to the face, sending him crashing down to the floor! Axis wastes no time in following the psychopath, ducking under the top rope and dropping down to the floor.

 

“…And for the first time, both competitors are on the outside. I’d bet on things getting really funky now, this being a no disqualifications match and all,” Stevens predicts.

 

“Sacred really has to do something here,” Riley advises. “Axis has been out of the loop for a LONG time, and during that time, he's been able to heal the little niggle's that wrestlers have constantly, and he's got to be in good shape, making it harder for Sacred, who has been wrestling non-stop since october of last year.

 

Sacred tries to pull himself back to his feet, but gets a stomp to the back of his head for his troubles. Axis bends down, grabbing his former friend by the hair and dragging him back up to his feet. Axis grabs Sacred by the arm, and, with all his might, whips him has hard as possible… Straight into the steel steps! Sacred’s hurt shoulder smashes into the stairs with tremendous velocity, dismantling them on impact. Sacred rolls onto his back, his shoulder in agonizing pain. Axis steps around Sacred, picking up the top half steel steps that Sacred broke on his impact. He raises them high into the air, directly above Sacred’s chest, before pushing the stairs down to the floor as hard as he can! Sacred, sensing his life is in danger, rolls out of the way at the last second, avoiding near death!

 

“Damn!” Stevens yells, as if he was on the receiving end of it. “Axis nearly just KILLED Sacred!”

 

“…That’s a side of Axis we’ve never seen before,” Riley states. “And I like it!”

 

"Of course you like it, I think you'd take pleasure out of pushing your own mother off a cliff," Stevens says in a huff.

 

"So you did notice my good mood on Monday morning?" Stevens opens his mouth, but decides to leave that one alone.

 

Axis sighs, as Sacred tries to crawl to some sort of sanctuary from the giant frame of Axis. He gets none, as Axis walks after Sacred, halting his progress by grabbing onto his leg. Sacred tries to squirm out of it, but to no avail. Axis begins rushing backwards, dragging Sacred dangerously across the mats. Axis, after building up a bit of speed, ducks down behind the adjacent side of the ring. He lets go of Sacred’s ankle, leaving him with no choice but to go careering foot first into the steel guardrail! Immediately after he hits the guardrail, Axis jumps up, dropping a knee into the chest of Sacred! Well, at least, that’s what the plan was. Sacred rolls out of the way at the last second, sending Axis’ right knee, with all his weight behind it, crashing into the floor! Axis instantly rolls onto his back, gripping at his knee in pain.

 

“...And Sacred opens a doorway for himself right there!” Stevens exclaims with excitement. “That tiny mat has absolutely NO cushioning from the concrete floor, and with Axis’ 300 odd pounds behind it, it cannot have done any good! Axis just did the work for Sacred.

 

“It’s doubly good for Sacred,” Riley pipes in. “The most effective way to bring a big man down has always been to disable one of his knees. Axis just gave Sacred a head start to do just that!”

 

Both men take their time in getting up, much to the disgust of the referee, who continues to shout for them to move their sorry asses. Axis is the first to get up, gritting his teeth as he forces himself to walk without limping. Sacred is half up by this point, and is assisted the rest of the way by Axis. Axis picks Sacred up onto his shoulder, showing no signs of any damage, then throws him forward, dumping him chest first across the guardrail at ringside. A few abusive fans try to get in the face of Sacred, but he’s in no condition to hear them. After acknowledging a few pats on the back, Axis pulls Sacred off the guardrail, pushing him hard into the ring apron. Sacred seemingly gets a second wind, and charges forward, catching Axis in the midsection and charging forward, crunching him into the guard rail!

 

"Wrong move on the part of the smaller Australian, almost a rookie mistake, leading that blind charge with his bad shoulder," Stevens comments with a sly grin.

 

Sacred stumbles backward holding his shoulder, and rests aganist the ring apron, cringing as pain surges through his shoulder. Axis can't help but chuckle at his opponent, before responding with a charge of his own, trying to drive his knee into Sacred's ribs... but the crazy Australian sidesteps the... other Australian, and he smashes his foot into the ring apron!

 

"Well, well, well, Axis made the same mistake! I think you should think twice with the Sacred bashing Mark, it may just come back and bite you on the ass!"

 

"You like saying 'ass' don't you?"

 

Sacred takes some time to recover, massaging his shoulder as Axis curses himself, clutching at his knee. Sacred must be singing "We're not gonna take it" By Twisted Sister in his head, as he suddenly springs to life.

 

"I love that song..." Stevens says, air guitaring.

 

"What the hell are you talking about?"

 

The crazy one leaps up onto the ring apron, takes a few careful steps before leaping off with a vertical splash! But Axis, being the big bear like thing that he is, catches Sacred in a bearhug. Axis shows Sacred yelling out in pain as he puts pressure on his ribs and arms, before driving him into the ring post! Sacred lifelessly drops to the concrete, as Axis hulks up, or something along those lines, to win the crowd over. He lifts the Australian to his feet and throws him back into the ring, sliding in after him and hooking him by the leg!

 

"Wow, a pin!" Riley says excitently.

 

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W

 

O - But Sacred kicks out again, frustrating the big lug Axis, who gripes to the referee as he lifts Sacred to his feet. Axis grabs Sacred and gets him in a standing headscissors, trying to lift him back for a piledriver, but Sacred holds on for dear life and puts his feet back down on the mat! Axis tries again, but Sacred flays his legs wildly, an Axis has no choice but to put him down. Sacred quickly counters the headscissors, flipping Axis onto his back with a double leg take down. Sacred lifts Axis up vertically, then pauses, before leaning back and catapulting Axis into the top turnbuckle! But Axis holds his hands out and avoids impact! Sacred gets to his feet and nods his head approvingly, happy with his work, but he turns around... and gets floored with a big boot!

 

"Sacred needs to be payed after that hit, he'll have that shoe logo on his face for a long time, good advertising!" Riley yells.

 

"... You need to be shot."

 

The crazy Sacred whirls back onto his feet, but Axis pounds his jaw with right hand after right hand. The Axis power whips Sacred towards the turnbuckles, but Sacred uses great agility as he leaps onto the second turnbuckle, then the thrid, leaping backward with a reverse elbow... but Sacred catches him, and dumps him with a back body suplex! The crowd cheers as Axis pushes Sacred onto his back and grabs his right arm, wrenching it back in a submission maneouver!

 

"Sacred tries to gain a foot-hold in this match, but Axis won't give him any leeway at all!" Riley says.

 

"And now a arm-bar locked on Sacred's right arm, putting further pressure on that already injured shoulder."

 

Axis digs his left knee into Sacred's head, grinding it into the mat as he pulls back on his arm, causing Sacred to yell out in extreme pain. The referee gets on his belly and gets in Sacred's face, asking him "Give up? Give up?" Axis, resurrecting his grade 2 ventriliquism act, replies, "Yea! Axis is just too good!" But it wasn't a very good act to begin with, and the referee groans at Axis. In reply, Axis puts more pressure on Sacred's arm, causing him to cry out. The damage done, Axis lets go of Sacred and gets to his feet, receiving a warm reception from the fans for being violent and abusive... jeez, their a fickle bunch. Sacred tries to crawl away, but Axis puts his massive hand on his head and lifts him up by his hair, throwing him into the corner. Axis stands on the second turnbuckle, over looking Sacred, and comes down with the ten punches of doom! The fans chant as each hit is made, "One! Two! Three! Four!"

 

"Five! Siz! Seven! Eigh - " The fans suddenly start to boo as a low blow from Sacred stuns Axis, and rightfully so. Axis lands on the canvas and stumbles backward, holding his groin and coughing. Sacred senses his big chance, and runs forward, leaping into the air and catching Axis in the jaw with a Harlem Side Kick! Axis goes down, but is right back on his feet a second later. Sacred takes a few steps back as Axis charges at him again, and trips him into the corner with a drop toe hold! Sacred jogs around to the opposite corner and wipes his hands in anticipation, before running across the ring... and driving his knee into Axis' back!

 

"Finally, Sacred is putting together some offence! Axis has been dominating too much for my liking, and if it went on much longer, I'd hate to think what would happen." Riley says, happiliy watching Sacred take it to Axis.

 

And take it to him he does, lifting him in the corner and climbing to the second rope, hitting the ten punches of doom! In retaliation against Axis. "One! Two! Three! Four! Five! Siz!" But Axis manages to counter as well, grabbing Sacred around the ankles, putting them on his shoulders and walking forwards, trying to pry Sacred from the top rope, but Sacred has his hands firmly holding onto the top rope! Axis lunges forward, but Sacred holds steady. Another unsuccesful attempt by Axis allows Sacred to twist his legs, twirling Axis towards the ropes and out through the second and third with a headscissor take over!

 

"Wow! What a counter!" Stevens says, mightily impressed. "No holding back tonight, this match means so much to both men, and each man knows each others moves, and can counter them."

 

Axis lands on his knee's and cringes at the impact, but manages to work his way back onto his feet. Sacred drops onto one knee, needing to get some rest, as Axis steps onto the ring apron, still a little groggy. Sacred glares at him as he climbs back to his feet, bouncing back from the ropes and prancing across the ring, nearing the ropes and leaping over the tall frame of Axis and falling behind him. Sacred grasps his hands around Axis' waist, trying to pull him down, but Axis grabs hold of the top rope, trying to hold on... but his knee gives out, and Sacred pulls him down to the concrete with a powerbomb!

 

"Oh god!" Stevens exclaims. "Axis' head snapped back from the impact, that was insane!"

 

"Axis tried to hold on to the ropes, but his efforts only served to increase the impact! Almost like whip lash!" Riley yells in reply.

 

Axis grabs his head and crawls into a ball, as Sacred just looks stright ahead, nearly amazed he was able to do that. Sacred slowly gets to his feet, ignoring the fans as they spew insults and threats, but Sacred just shakes his head, as he rolls Axis back into the ring. Sacred climbs back onto the ring apron, placing his hans on the top rope, looking down at his foe... he uses the ropes to spring himself up and over, flipping in the air and hitting Axis on the back with a rolling senton, landing back on his feet!

 

"This is very uncharacteristic for Sacred, pulling out these high-flying moves. Surely he knows he can't contend with Axis' power, so he's reverting back to the high flying prowess he had before he turned to the dark side." Stevens notes.

 

"He's still a good size to be hitting these moves, he's not a hoss quite yet." Riley replies with a grin.

 

Sacred falls on top of Axis, pinning his shoulders to the canvas.

 

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W - But Axis kicks out strongly, surprising Sacred after the hard hit he took. Sacred gets to his feet, but immediately drops an elbow on Axis' chest, followed by another. Sacred grabs hold of Axis knee, and rops an elbow against his right knee, and then wrenches his knee, pulling back as much as he can. Axis cries out in pain, but stops as Sacred gets back to his feet, only to come back down with another elbow drop and leg lock submission!

 

"He used this strategy against Strangler..." Riley notes, "Taking out the knee of the big man, taking out his power moves, it is interesting to note that, it hasn't taken Sacred as much effort to injure that knee, as it took with the Boston Strangler..."

 

"Oooh, I think Bobby's worked it out!" Strangler says, almost teasing. "It's easy to see now, both men have known each other since... childhood, even, and they know, more than anyone else, what each other's *weak* points are, which includes, old, carrer threatening injuries they wouldn't dare tell anyone else."

 

"Ugh, Mark, we sound like... normal annoucners, it's scary."

 

"I know man, I'm scared too..."

 

Sacred's leg stretches across Axis' side, while the other one is locked under his injured right leg, while arms lock around his leg, pulling back and twisting, causing great agony for Axis. But! Axis manages to kick Sacred in the face with his left leg! He does it once, twice, and finally Sacred is forced to let go, tending to blood nose as Axis struggles onto his feet, hoping on one foot until he can get the feeling back in the other. Axis falls back into the turnbuckle, stamping his foot on the mat, the crowd on their feet thinking he's going to hit SWEET CHIN MUSIC! BUT HE'S NOT! He finally gets the feeling back in his leg, as Sacred grunts, and charges across the ring, trying for a cross body... but Axis ducks, and Sacred lands on the top turnbuckle!

 

Axis walks around the ring, listening to the crowd's cheers while he walks over to Sacred, climbing onto the first rope, then the second, grabbing Sacred as he landed, in position for a cross body. Axis lifts Sacred up into his arms, one between his legs, one holding his shoulder and head... he falls backwards off the top rope... throws Sacred over his head with a Fallaway Slam! The crowd go nuts as Axis scampers across for a pin, hooking Sacred by the leg!

 

"What a move! Sacred's mistake cost him as Axis punished him off that top rope! His knee may be hurting, but he packs alot of power in that upper body of his! It seems his extended absense hasn't done him any harm, he still looks great!" Stevens comments.

 

Riley replies, "Do you think Lynn will want you checking out guys in the ring?"

 

"I swear I'm going to kill you one day..."

 

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T - But Sacred gets a shoulder up! Axis grumbles to the referee, claiming it was three, but the referee just shakes his head and laughs. Axis threatens him before grabbing Sacred and lifting him to his feet. The big man whips the little man in to the ropes, Sacred rebounds back as Axis lifts him onto his shoulders in a firemans carry. Axis circles the ring, his leg giving him a bit of trouble, but he manages to hold onto Sacred, showing him to the crowdi n all his glory, before twisting Sacred around and throwing him off his large frame, bringing him down shoulder first on Axis' shoulder!

 

"A samoan neckbreaker, except Sacred's shoulder hit axis and not his head!" Bobby exclaims.

 

"Now their getting into the business end of things, now they're really focusing on each other's weaknesses and picking each other apart..." Stevens says as he watches on.

 

Sacred clutches at his shoulder, as Axis stomps on it and stomps on it, until Sacred protects it with his body. Axis smiles as the fans cheer for him, chanting "Axis! Axis!" and some on the other side chant rythmacally "Welcome back! Welcome back!" He rises his arm in appreciation of their support, as Sacred tries to climb to his feet, using the ropes nearest to the announce desk to do so. Axis builds up a full head of steam, spotting his struggling prey and moving in for the kill, moving like a fridge on the charge, but as Axis reaches Sacred, he is sent flying over the top rope as Sacred low-bridges him! Axis quickly gets back to his feet, but struggles to stand on two feet, often teetering and tottering. Sacred senses a golden~! oppurtunity, rebounding off the ropes behind him and flying across the ring, reaching the opposite ropes and using them as a lauchpad to flip over the top rope!

 

Axis is awake to Sacred's plan, and catches Sacred on top of his shoulders. Sacred tries to fight away with some punches to Axis' head, and Axis stumbles forward, but he manages to 'bommerang' Sacred off the ropes and turns around, running across the concrete and POWERBOMBING HIM THROUGH THE TABLE!

 

"I'm with the crowd on this one Mark... HOLY SHIT!" Riley yells, smiling at the carnage is a sickennig way.

 

"Axis just destroyed Sacred with that powerbomb through the Spanish announce table! Poor guys, they never get through the whole show with a table to sit at..."

 

Sacred lies in a crumpled heap, surrounded by broken table, scattered chairs and television monitors. The crowd behind him cheer and taunt Sacred, but he can't hear them on the account of being knocked the fuck out. Axis hobbles around, going beyond the call of duty with that last move, as his knee nearly gave away. He takes a few moments to catch his breath, as he picks up a television monitor and looks himself over, finding a large gash on his forehead and a cut lip, both producing good amounts of blood, good for Sacred at least, who begins to stir on the floor. Axis grunts and leans over, monitor in hand, like a hunter, waiting for his prey to make it self known before the killer blow...

 

"These two men are slowly destroying each other, but neither look like giving up too soon... I don't know what it will take to keep one of them down!" Stevens says.

 

Sacred gets on one knee, all he can see are the bright lights, and they disorient him, so he swipes at nothing like a crazy person. He finally gets to his feet, holding his shoulder in pain and mumbling to himself as he searches for Axis, but he's not in front of him, so he turns around... and getsa T.V monitor right in between the eyes! Sacred falls to the ground once more, as the crowd pop even louder for that hit, as a blood splatter appears on the monitor Axis used. The mammoth Australian rolls Sacred back into the ring, and spots a steel chair from the corner of his mind, and decides to throw that in to...

 

Sacred crawls to the centre of the ring, and tries to get up, but he coughs and splutters, forcing him onto his back while blood drips down his nose. Axis climbs onto the ring apron, and ... begins to climb the turnbuckles! The crowd get to their feet as they watch their hero reach the top rope, something they haven't seen him do... ever. Axis calls to the gods above to help him through this, as he leaps off the turnbuckle and flies through the air, flash bulbs lighting up in the background as Axis comes down... but Sacred drives his knee's into Axis' ribs! "There is no god." As Sacred would say...

 

"Sacred managed to counter the splash!" Stevens yells. "He's lucky, I'd hate to have 300 + pounds come down on me like that!"

 

"Yet you still have sex with your wife."

 

Stevens just stares at Riley for a few minutes, then grabs him by the head and throws him over the table.

 

"So, what's Bubba doing this weekend?" Stevens asks as Riley climbs back up, popping his head over the desk.

 

Sacred crawls across the ring as Axis begins to get to his feet, still clutching at his ribs, but growling at Sacred. The crazy one lunges out with his one good arm and grabs the chair as Axis begins to pick him up. Sacred flings the chair over his head and connects with Axis! The shot dazzes Axis, and he stumbles backward. Sacred struggles onto his feet as Axis suddeny gets his second wind, opening his eyes wide at Sacred, but before he can act, Sacred tosses him the chair...

 

"Whatever would he do that for...' Riley wonders.

 

Before hopping across the ring and hitting a standing side kick onto the chair, which hits Axis in the face!

 

"You know you really are a moron Bobby."

 

Axis doesn't go down though, stumbling back into the ropes, but rebounding back, as Sacred just shakes his head and wonders what he has to do to keep him down. As Axis comes back, swinging his arm with a semi-concious clothesline. but Sacred ducks under his arm and lifts him up with his left arm, nailing him to the canvas with the Spanish Inquisition! Sacred clambers over and pushes Axis' shoudlers down as hard as he can...

 

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R - NO! The crowd roar as Axis kicks out! Sacred just looks straight ahead, no emotion on his face as he keeps looking straight ahead. He grabs Axis' leg and without a fuss, lock on the Solution Nine!

 

"Elevated half boston crab, completely torquing Axis' right knee." Riley notes. "Sacred just wants to send a message now, he doesn't want to play to fans, he wants to hurt someone, and he'll do anything it takes..."

 

Sacred pulls back as much as he can, sending pain shooting up Axis' leg as he desperately tries to grab the ropes, but it's just out of his reach. The fans clap, worried that Axis might lose it hear, and try and spur on Axis, the big lug. Sacred slaps Axis' knee, just doing all he can to keep Axis in place, twisting his body slightly to add that little more pressure that might just get the tap...

 

"Axis is close, you can see it, he can't bear much pain on his knee, and Sacred seems hell bent on making him tap!" Stevens yells.

 

Axis lunges forward once, but his fingers just scrape the rope, and fall to the canvas. Sacred worries in his mind, and tries to pull Axis away from the ropes, but before he can, Axis lunges one last time and... MAKES THE ROPES! Sacred refuses to let go, when Axis suddenly realises it's no disqualification, as the referee just shrugs his shoulders. Axis grunts and bears the pain as he grabs hold of the second rope as Sacred keeps the hold on! Axis, seemingly from no where, hits a back kick with his left leg, dislodging Sacred's arms! Axis stands on two feet, BUTT stumbles as he puts his right leg down, and cringes as more pain surges. Sacred grabs the chair from beside him and stares directly at Axis' leg... but Axis spins around on his left leg and right hands the chair into Sacred's face! Sacred goes flying backwards, as does the chair.

 

Sacred twirls back to his feet, blood soaking into his hair as he charges once again, but Axis picks him up and spings him around, almost in a body slam, but directs Sacred's head towards the mat at the last second... and hits a TOMBSTONE!

 

"GOD! Someone just drop a one thousand pound weight on the other, then you might win!" Riley yells. Axis didn't take long with that Tombstone, knowing if he held Sacred any longer knee might have given out!"

 

"But he sacrificed any power behind the move, and didn't get te desired effect..." Stevens duely notes.

 

Just just flops on top of Sacred, tired, worn out, completely and utterly buggered, to use an Australian phrase, but the referee slides over and does his job, just a little quicker for his pal Axis...

 

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R - But Sacred kicks out!! Axis looks up and breathes heavily, holding up three fingers to the referee, but the ref grimly replies it was only two. Axis yells out "Fuck!" In one of the lighter moments of the match. He wastes no time though, knowing he made that mistake before. He lifts Sacred to his feet and drapes his arm over shoulder, lifting him up into the air, but he feels his knee ready to give out at any moment, and slams Sacred down quickly, right on the back of his neck with a sick Brainbuster!

 

"Just lay down Sacred..." Riiley instructs the evil one. "Lay down and stop the hurting..."

 

"Who's hurting? Axis' or Sacred's?"

 

"Both..." Riley replies.

 

Axis hooks Sacred by the leg once again, as the fans chant along, most of them sure this is going to be it...

 

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"E..." NOO! Sacred kicks out once again! Axis just gets to his feet, not even disputing the count this time. Axis pulls Sacred up and lifts his chin up, shouting some not so nice words, before giving him a STIFF right hand, aiming for Sacred's cut forming on his forehead. He follows it up with another, trying to produce more blood. Axis holds Sacred's up for the crowd to see...

 

"Axis is just destroying Sacred here, slowly and methodically, prolonging the pain..."

 

"Whoever wins this will know they EARNT it when they look in the mirror tommorow morning, and remember the pain from tonight..." Riley responds.

 

Axis puts Sacred in the standing head scissors, and signals to the crowd that it’s time to finish the match! The crowd begins to roar in anticipation! Axis grabs Sacred’s waist, and lifts him into the air! Axis struggles a bit to lift the weight of the relatively light Sacred, but still is able to get him up onto his shoulders! However, before Axis can put the plan of the Factor Bomb into action, Sacred desperately starts struggling, smashing several stiff forearms right into the face of Axis! Axis begins to stagger backward… And begins to fall! Sacred takes the chance to inflict more damage, moving over slightly on Axis’ shoulders… And pushing the back of Axis’ head HARD into the canvas with a leg drop from his shoulders!

 

“Amazing!” Stevens shouts with delight. “Sacred was almost a goner there, but had the presence of mind to fight his way out of it - and in the process, almost KILLED Axis!”

 

“I think Sacred did himself a favour by working on Axis’ knee earlier in the match,” Riley states with professor like authority. “You could see that Axis was struggling to get the small Sacred up. If Axis had been able to do that at full speed, I don’t think Sacred would have been able to fight out in time.”

 

“And neither man is moving here. Both men are spent after what just happened. But, in an utterly obvious statement, I suggest that the first man to their feet gets a big advantage here. There is no ten count, due to the match stipulation, so both men might take their time in getting up.”

 

Both men begin to stir at almost the same time, but neither Sacred nor Axis are exactly rushing to get to their feet. Sacred rolls over, pushing himself up, still holding onto the injured shoulder. Axis begins to hurry his movements a bit too, still holding his knee in pain. Finally, both men are able to climb up onto their vertical base. They stare deep into each other’s eyes, as if thanking each other for the tough match up. Axis breaks the stand off, lunging towards Sacred in the hope of tangling Sacred into a lock up situation. Sacred ducks under Axis’ grip though, launching himself into the ropes. As he dashes back, Axis positions his arms, grabbing Sacred, and spinning him around for a powerslam… Wait, no! Sacred flips out of Axis’ grasp, shooting off the opposite ropes. A surprised Axis spins around… Only to see Sacred flying through the air! Sacred grabs Axis by the midsection, then absolutely DESTROYS him with a BRUTAL flying spear! Axis crashes into the mat! Sacred on the other hand bounces off Axis, rolling over onto his back and gripping at the injured shoulder. The crowd jump to their feet!

 

“…KAMIKAZE FROM SACRED!” Mark Stevens shouts, struggling to be heard over the deafening crowd! “Sacred just spun out of Axis’ attempted powerslam, and SMASHED him in half!”

 

“Indeed, an excellent desperation move from Sacred,” Riley agrees. “BUT, Sacred hit Axis with his injured shoulder. Will he be able to capitalize? Or did he just hurt himself more?”

 

Sacred grips at his shoulder in pain, whilst Axis, on the other hand, shows no signs of movement. ... Still no movement, and the crowd start to cheer even louder, pushing for Axis to come too. Finally, Sacred begins to move, stretching hard, rolls over, then lays his back across Axis, still clenching at his arm. The crowd isn’t happy, as they almost scream for Axis to get up.

 

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“NO!” Stevens shouts, on the edge of his seat. “Axis was able to roll the shoulder at two! WHAT a contest!”

 

Sacred drops his head, as if screaming “AHH! WHAT MUST I DO TO BEAT THIS BASTARD!?” Sacred rolls off Sacred, then rolls out of the ring, dropping down to the floor. He heads back over to the commentary table, shoving a no name official off his chair. Sacred then, as you might expect, picks up the chair, and heads back into the ring with it. Sacred climbs to his feet, gives his shoulder one last rub, then takes a first grip of the chair with both arms. He raises the chair up… And SMASHES it across the already dismantled knee of Axis! Axis instantly grips at his knee and starts rolling around the ring, unable to process the amount of pain shooting through his body! Sacred then hits Axis, with minimal force, on the back, trying to keep the frenetic Aussie still. Sacred drops the chair to the mat, then grabs Axis’ leg… And puts the leg through the chair! The crowd immediately starts to scream their horror!

 

“…No Sacred,” Stevens begins to plea. “Don’t do it! He was your friend!”

 

“Do it!” Riley shouts evilly. “He hassled your dead wife, he deserves it!”

 

Sacred, emotionless, drags the wounded Axis over to the corner, and begins to climb the turnbuckles. The crowd continues to voice their disapproval, but they can’t do a thing about it. Sacred takes aim, before leaping off the top rope, and landing his entire weight into the chair! The chair visibly bends around Axis’ knee, almost snapping it in half! The crowd boos like they have never booed before! Axis instantly clutches at his knee, almost screaming in pain!

 

“…Sacred showing just how much of an evil bitch he is here…” Stevens says, trailing off. “Hating someone is one thing, but trying to end their career is another.”

 

“Well, drastic times call for drastic measures,” Riley says frankly. “Axis had his chance, but he decided he wanted the match to keep going.”

 

“…You’re unbelievable, Riley.”

 

Sacred seems totally focused on Axis, completely blocking out the boos coming from the crowd. Sacred stomps on Axis’ head as hard as he can, stopping his former friend from struggling so much. Sacred then AGAIN scales the turnbuckles! The referee pleads with Sacred, but gets absolutely nowhere. The crowd is close to a riot! Sacred jumps off… And again almost implants the chair in Axis’ knee!

 

“Somebody stop this crap!” Stevens demands. “I know this is no-Disqualification, but this is not right! It’s Axis’ first match back in close to a year - he doesn’t need to be put on the shelf!”

 

“It’s his own fault,” Riley states firmly. “If he hadn’t fucked with Sacred’s head, none of this would be happening right now!”

 

"Shutup Riley, just shutup! Sacred would have done the same thing in Axis' situation! Look at Sacred! He seems dissapointed he hasn't brokeb Axis' leg yet!"

 

Axis screams in agony, unable to register the amount of pain rushing through his body. But Sacred doesn’t give a damn! Once again, he climbs up to the top rope. Sacred leaps off… And lands on the mat! Axis was able to roll out of the way at the nick of time! Axis struggles desperately, ripping the chair off of his leg. Axis sits up, grabbing onto the chair… Then delivers a CRUSHING blow right to the face of Sacred, dropping him down to the mat! The crowd finally begins to cheer once more! Axis discards the chair, tossing it into the middle of the ring. He grabs the top rope, and hops up to his feet, using the ropes to support most of his weight. He hunches down and sucks in air, trying as hard as he can to nullify the pain shooting from his knee.

 

“…Axis able to dodge the third blow to his knee, and react with a nasty chair shot!” Stevens says, somewhat happier. “But you’ve got to wonder… Can Axis possibly win the match? I mean, it doesn’t look like he can even walk.”

 

“Like it or not,” Riley begins, “Sacred has manipulated himself into a good spot. He’s destroyed Axis’ knee, which is where all of his big moves come from. I can’t see Axis winning this match anytime soon.”

 

Axis, with a severe limp, picks Sacred up to his feet… Then puts him in a standing head scissors! The crowd jump to their feet! Could Axis possibly be able to hit a Factor Bomb with a bad leg?

 

“Surely not…” Stevens trails off in disbelief. “There must be no way possible that Axis will be able to hit the Factor Bomb in the state he’s in. His last attempt failed, and his knee has since been destroyed…”

 

“This is stupid by Axis,” Riley says, condemning the bigger Aussie. “He should be using that chair to beat the snot out of Sacred. No effort, no risk.”

 

“Well, not everyone is into using weapons to win matches Riley,” Stevens shoots back.

 

"His loss I guess..."

 

Axis, leaning back into the ropes for support, lifts Sacred up! With a fair bit of struggling, he lifts Sacred up onto his shoulders, still supporting himself on the ropes! Filled with confidence, Axis begins to walk towards the middle of the ring… Bad idea. Almost instantly, his leg begins to bend dangerously, causing him to stagger into the center of the ring. Sacred, sensing what’s happening, suddenly comes to life. With no trouble at all, he slips off Axis’ shoulders, and on the way down, captures Axis in a front face lock! Axis can do absolutely nothing as his face is smashed into the steel chair which he threw into the middle of the ring earlier! The crowd leaps to their feet!

 

“CRUEL FATE!” Stevens screams, leaping to hs feet like the crowd, just shaking his head. “CRUEL FATE RIGHT ONTO THAT STEEL CHAIR!”

 

“WHAT A MOVE!” Riley shouts in reply, looking on in almost disbelief. “SACRED JUST DESTROYED AXIS!”

 

“SURELY, THAT’S GOTTA BE IT!”

 

Sacred screams out in pain as he clutches at his shoulder, lying face down on the mat, panting furiously, while next to him, Axis is motionless, eyes closed, a faint sign of life in is slow breathing, but he's out cold. Sacred tries to get him self up, pushing himself up off the mat, but his shoulder gives away and he drops back down, cringing as more pain shoots through his body.

 

"Axis is down... Sacred is down... He just needs to get Axis' shoulders down, and the world championship will be within' his grasp... and a famous victory over his former friend..."

 

"They've given it their all..." Stevens says softly as he and the crowd watch on, eyes glued on the two men in the ring. "Both men are down and bleeding, they surely need medical attention, but they won't want any until they finish the match, until they find out who is the better man..."

 

Sacred tries to endure the pain as he leans back up, trying to keep himself stable as he slowly crawls over to his former friend, blood rolling down past his eyes, making it difficult to see. He grabs hold of Axis' belt and pulls him with his right arm, fighting through the piercing pain, and pulling him onto his side, and finally onto his back. Axis looks up at the bright lights above, seeing the match slip away from him as Sacred throws his arm across Axis' chest! The crowd just cry "No!!" as the ref slides across and slams his palm on the canvas, Sacred looking up to the crowd with a sly smile, his face covered in bright red blood.

 

"This has to be it..." Riley stammers, as the crowd count the pin as they always do, hoping that Axis can somehow kick out.

 

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"E!!!!!!"

 

The crowd are in utter shock as the bell rings, and Sacred drops his head, seemingly passing out from blood loss as the referee bends down to check on both men, sussing their condition as the crowd just stand there, but soon break out into a respectful applause as a few medical personel appear from the sides of the Pay Per View Stage, rushing into the ring to help.

 

Funyon is caught up in events, but remembers to do his job, "The winner of this match and NEW! Number one contender to the World Heavyweight Championship... SACRED!"

 

"Sacred did it!" Riley yells, suddenly breaking his lengthy, solemn pause. "It took EVERYTHING he had to keep Axis down, he just wouldn't give up!"

 

"I doubt either of these men will be quite the same after this epic match, they gave everything they had into beating each other, they pured their blood, sweat and tears-"

 

Riley cuts Stevens off mid-sentence, screaming: "Wait! Sacred is beginning to move!"

 

The medical and ring personnel suddenly step back as Sacred works onto all fours. One EMT steps forward to check on him, but Sacred swipes at him, pushing him away. Sacred groans as he gets on to feet, stumbling backwards, but able to keep his feet. All the while, EMT's make running repairs on Axis, trying to bandage his numerous cuts and gashes, but Sacred lumbers foward and oders them away. One EMT stands tall and instructs Sacred to stay clear while they work, but Sacred grabs him with his good arm and throws him over the top rope, the fans breaking their applause to jeer the victorious Australian. Sacred scares away the medical personnel, until only he and Axis are left in the ring, his former friend in a crumpled heap on the mat, grabbing at his knee, whimpering in pain. Sacred holds his injured shoulder as he looks down on Axis with an emotionless expression. Sacred looks up at the ceiling, seemingly in deep thought as the crowd fall silent.

 

Sacred stumbles around in a circle, looking at the crowd, almost in tears as feeling swell up inside him, and the pain becomes unbearable. Sacred suddenly stops in his tracks, standing on wobbly knees, glancing back at Axis. Suddenly... he grins. Blood drips from his forehead as he just keeps grinning, alsmost chuckling as he watches Axis struggle in pain. Sacred takes a deep breath, before calmly leaving the rain just in front of the announce desk.

 

"Oh thank god..." Stevens sighs in relief. "Sacred pays some respect to his former ally and leaves him to recover from his wounds... oh no, NO! Don't!"

 

Sacred grins at Stevens as he yells at him to stop, but his mind his clear, in it, he knows what he wants to do. Riley, being the evil bastard that he is, exchanges a menacing smile with Sacred, giving him a thumbs up as Stevens looks at his partner in disbelief. Sacred slides back into the ring with his steel chair, grabbed from a ringside attendant. Sacred coughs and splutters, blood splattering on the mat as he struggles onto his feet, clutching the steel chair in his left arm, letting it dangle by his feet as he looks down on Axis once again, a tear rolling down his cheek, but that smile still evident...

 

"Just stop the carnage! We need someone out here! We need to stop this! Sacred's taking this too far, you proved yourself Andrew! You have our respect, but please, don't do it!" Stevens cries in vain.

 

"I don't think Sacred can hear anyone right now." Riley replies to his commentary cohort. "He looks so cool, calm and collected, which is scary, but with that steel chair in hand, he can do some damage..."

 

The fans shout at Sacred, almost pleading with him, but no one can reach him, as he just shakes his head and looks on his fallen ally. Sacred calls to ringside, and a mic is flung into the ring, which he caches with his hurt arm, causing him to cringe once again. He raises the microphone to his lips as he blatantly ignores the booing from the crowd, which dies down as he begins to speak...

 

"I'm sorry Axis... I'm sorry it came to this... I didn't want this to happen, but you've forced me into this position... I'm sorry..."

 

Sacred drops the microphone, turning around, looking ready to leave... but, suddenly, he turns around, and gripping the chair in both hands, slams it down on Axis' right knee! The crowd roar is defiance as Sacred picks the microphone back up, another tear rolling down his cheek, watching Axis yelp out in pain, rolling up into a ball and clutching his knee.

 

"I'm sorry... It wasn't supposed to come to this... please forgive me..."

 

Sacred swings the chair again, and Axis cries out as the steel crushes into his knee again. Sacred shudders as he watches his former friend in pain, but comes back to reality when he feels the pain in his shoulder, realising Axis was the one who caused it. He sniffs and wipes the tears away, calming himself, looking normal once again.

 

"I'm sorry... I'm sorry... I enjoy this..." Sacred flashes a grin as he slams the chair down on his knee, once, twice, three times! The crowd's noise builds with every shot, as Sacred tears apart Axis' knee with the chair, each shot echoing through the arena and causing the crowd to become more animated, louder with their objections as they look on helpless. One or two security men, who have been on the outside of the guard rail hop over and try to get into the ring, disgusted by what they see and waving the no interference clause, but Sacred swats them off the apron like flies. Sacred turns back to Axis, breathing heavily, he speaks into the mic again...

 

"I'm sorry my friend." Sacred says, void of any emotion. "I do have to thank you, Jay, I have to thank you." He's beginning to stutter, made evident by the shaking chair in his hand. "Your uncaring nature and total lack of respect has actually brought me back to reality, and for that I thank you, thank you."

 

"This is just surreal.." Stevens comments, unable to find any fitting words for the situation. "This is... ugh."

 

"I know Mark, were seeing a long time friendship totally dissapear before our eyes, and Sacred... it's just so hard to describe, he's crying, he's smiling, he's without emotion, does he know himself what he's supposed to be feeling?" Riley asks.

 

"I've... I've gotten over Anna, thanks largely to you. It was you who told me to stop tearing myself up about it, and I did, thank you for your words. But you see, trying to block out my past with Anna has bought me to this position..." Sacred calmly says, circling Axis like a hawk while the crowd listen attentively.

 

"I want to block my past altogether... starting with you, Jay." Sacred drops the microphone, and swings the chair again, as Axis grits his teeth, pain buring throughout his knee as Sacred swings again and again, the steel almost shattering his knee as the blows continue. Sacred hits Axis so much, after he finishes, his face is red and he's trying to catch his breath. Axis rolls away, not able to think about anything but the pain surging through his knee. Sacred calmly walks over, leaning over, obviously tired, but in a high after mercilessly butchering Axis' knee. He stomps on Axis' head with his foot, keeping him in place over the ring apron. Sacred exits through the ropes, and takes a few steps back, steel chair still in hand... walking forward and slamming it on Axis' knee again!

 

"Just stop it! Axis doesn't deserve this! He's been a respected person throughout his career, he doesn't deserve this, he doesn't deserve the pain he's going through!"

 

"Even I know that Stevens, but this goes far beyond that. Sacred is determined to rub Axis out permanently."

 

Stevens just shakes his head, "I can't beleive Sacred would do something like this, I didn't think he were capable. He's been alot of things, but this is beyond anything I've seen him do."

 

Sacred suddenly stops, looking behind him at the turnbuckle, and then at the chair, a sick idea crossing his mind. Sacred opens the chair up slightly, and closes it around Axis' right knee, grabbing the microphone again, leaning forward and looking into Axis' eyes.

 

"Now, this might hurt a little." Sacred explains in his normal tone, making sure the chair is wrapped around his knee nice and tight, making sure he does the damage this time...

 

Sacred throws the mic away as the fans at ringside erupt, trying to get over the guard rail and stop the carnage, but the loyal security members keep them at bay, making this a true no interference affair. Sacred looks at the fans, then turns away, heading towards the turnbuckle...

 

"I thought he was going to do the same as he did earlier in the match, drop a knee on Axis, but this is going far beyond that, like so many things tonight... Alright, this is just to far..."

 

"I thought you liked this, I thought you wanted this!?" Stevens yells in reply. "See Riley!? You can't do this to someone, it's just not right!"

 

Sacred slowly climbs to the top rope, beginning to lose feeling in his shoulder as he struggles to get up to the top, but he does, and he turns around, looking down at Axis. He simply says, "I'm sorry..." Before leaping off...

 

"NO! HE'LL BREAK HIS FUCKING LEG!" Stevens yells uncharictaristically.

 

"Oh god..." Riley simply says.

 

Sacred closes his eyes and braces for impact, knee outsctretched as Axis is trapped, but knows what's coming. Sacred nears, and the crowd gasp.

 

"CRACK!"

 

...

 

Sacred falls to the outside as the crowd fall silent, listening to the defeaning scream made by Axis, as he looks down a his leg, diverting off at an odd angle, obviously broken beyond repair.

 

"Oh my fucking god..." Riley simply says again. "Just... look at his knee... It's not supposed to bend that way..."

 

The EMT's forget about Sacred now, all they want to do is get in the ring and help Axis as he cries out in pain. They bring a stretcher into the ring while they hold Axis's leg in place, to stop any further damage. Sacred climbs onto his feet, only caring about his own knee aftr the impact. He looks at Axis, in pain on the canvas, but he simply turns away and heads up the ramp way, as the Medical personel work frantically to help Axis.

[Guest BA_Baracus]

***********

APOCALYPSE

***********

 

“He's back! Raynor's back! Here comes the cavalry, Edwin!” hollers Stevens as Raynor slides into the ring with a chair…

 

CRACK!

 

Down goes TNT!

 

CRACK!

 

Frost stumbles back…

 

CRACK!

 

Drops to one knee…

 

CRACK!

 

And the Icelander lands on his back with a tremendous thud!

 

“Chris Raynor is cleaning house, folks, and the Magnificent Seven are running scared!”

 

The second half of the Carnival’s tag-team tandem pulls Edwin to his feet, earning a mumbled “thank you” from the bloodied lips of the Carnival’s leader. MacPhisto braces himself against the ropes as Raynor turns away…

 

 

 

 

…and keeps turning…

 

 

 

 

…with the steel chair still in his hand….

 

 

 

 

CRACK!

 

 

 

 

*******

 

"... it's over, Edwin... it's time these people knew what kind of guy you really are..."

 

"What the hell is he talking about?" asks Mark, who only gets a dumbfounded shrug in response.

 

"I didn't get it for a while,” Raynor continues... “That's why I disappeared, I needed some time to piece it together... I didn't want to think... Jesus Edwin, I didn't want to think anyone was capable of what you did... you broke his fucking neck, Edwin!"

 

"Six years ago, APW, you and Nathan Kibagami... Jimmy "Union Jack" Britain hits the Union Jack, one, two, three, your winner... and then-... and then you... You broke his goddamned neck, Edwin! I mean, I mean, you... For fuck's sake, Edwin, you practically killed him!”

 

The reel flashes to slow motion black and white, and zooms in on Raynor’s face, dripping with rage…

 

"You begin pulling our fucking strings."

 

"You nearly KILLED this man, and now, you... you... he comes back, back to the SWF, and you immediately start working this to your advantage?! ... ... Don't pretend like you don't know what I'm talking about, you did the same fucking thing with Wilson! Oh yea, this "pact" you made with him? The one that conveniently left me, Z, and Magnifico out of it so the Magnificent Seven could beat the shit out of US! Yea, that one!"

 

*******

 

Wilson walks to the rope closest the ramp. “Edwin, you know how you accepted my little truce? Carnies don’t attack me, the Magnificent Seven don’t attack you?”

 

“Yes…”

 

Wilson swings his arm in an “Aw, shucks” motion and looks down. “Well, the thing is, and I didn’t bring this up specifically, and that’s my bad, but:”

 

Wilson snaps his head back up, delirium creeping into his eyes. “Well, that had nothing to do with the Magnificent Seven plain out attacking the other Carnies.”

 

A surprised look crosses Edwin’s face as he looks at Wilson, then up to the stage.

 

The stage where Frost walks out, carrying Chris Raynor on his shoulder. Blood flows from the Carnie’s head. TNT follows suit, dragging Z along while The Boston Strangler carries Magnifico like his new bride and lays him down onto the ramp. Edwin stares at all four men, rage starting to overtake him.

 

“What the hell is this? The whole point was to leave them out of this.”

 

Wilson’s head tilts to the side and it looks like he’s seeing Edwin for the very first time. “No, my odd little friend. What that did was protect me…”

 

Wilson points at Edwin, his head snapping upright.

 

“…and you.”

 

The crowd starts to boo at Wilson’s accusation, but he cuts them off. “Shut up and listen! Your hero here, he sold out his friends! But that can’t be what happened, can it? Because Edwin’s an honorable man.”

 

*******

 

"Yea, you remember! Edwin's down in the ring, making you laugh and smile and cheer, then Wilson drags us bloodied and bruised out on the stage, and Edwin pulls the innocent "Oh, I didn't know!" routine?! BULLSHIT! YOU KNEW, AND YOU PLANNED IT! Edwin's arch rival, his nemesis, his other evil half if you wish... comes back, and what does Edwin do? He plays me, he plays the Carnival right into their hands, and why? He sacrificed us, sacrificed ME, and why?"

 

Chris drops his arms, calming himself down, before continuing...

 

"To keep his spot... on top."

 

"And it's the same with Silent!" Raynor screams, again speaking fast and flustered. "You nearly fucking KILLED him, and what do you do, you, you throw Z and me at him! The moment he comes back, you didn't think about what you did to him - the thought of trying to apologize to him or, or, or trying to bury the hatchet or, or that never crossed your fucking mind! You saw fucking DOLLAR SIGNS! Yea, throw the Carnival at him, a Carnival you know... you THINK is woefully inadequate for the job, to build Silent up for the big money match, right?! Never mind that you almost crippled him, let's get Edwin for another main event!

 

*******

 

"We… are not… quite… finished… in here…"

 

"Oh, for the love of god..." Mark buries his head in his hands. "Haven't you done enough for one night?"

 

Silent drops one hand down, pointing a finger right at Z. "Do you see him, MacPhisto? Do you see what I've done to him?" The camera zooms in on the Carnie's face, getting a good shot of his 'crimson mask'.

 

"You could've prevented this, Edwin..." Silent steps away from Z, walking over to the well used, but discarded steel chair. "You had more than enough chances to talk this... 'child' out of facing me, but you failed."

 

"Edwin MacPhisto... this man's blood... is... on... *your* hands!" The crowd boos heavily as Silent lets the microphone drop to the mat with a slight squeal of feedback. Pulling Z up fully to his wobbly feet, Silent turns him around... and hooks each of his arms. Not paying the jeers of the crowd, or the cries of Mark Stevens, Silent sizes up the chair... and jogs foreward. Tossing Z haphazardly infront of him... and letting him spiral down almost in... slow motion...

 

...down to...

 

...down to...

 

...down to...

 

...

 

...

 

...the edge of the unfolded Metal chair!! Head and neck basically folded over on the steel surface, it folds like a paper cup, Z slumping into it, totally unconscious. The crowd is awash with heat. Silent couldn't care less. Mark is aghast.

 

"I--I... Dammit! Silent just drove Z head and neck first into the chair! With... with Edwin's Union Jack!"

 

***

 

“Edwin…” whispers the Silent One into his microphone. “Once again, you fail your newfound friends…once again…this man’s blood…is on your hands…”

 

And, just like that, Silent slides out of the ring…

 

…Only to return with his cane.

 

THUNK.

 

THUNK.

 

FWOOOOOOSH! THUNK!

 

THUNK-THUNK!

 

THUNK!

 

THUNK!

 

“Good Lord…Chris Raynor is a bloody mess! Somebody stop this now, damn it!”

 

*******

 

“Yea, that's right - it happened at WarGames, it happened at Ground Zero, and it was happening right under my nose the whole time!"

 

"But then, I beat Silent... and you, you just... just... hole up! We try to talk to you backstage, and you just say "Drop it, Chris. No Z, I don't wanna talk about it." After all, why would you? Why would you want to go through with the match against Silent if lowly Chris Raynor could beat him? I mean... Jesus Christ, Edwin, these are peoples fucking LIVES you're fucking with! You practically put Silent in the grave, you sick son of a BITCH! And all you can do now is try to, to... to turn this to your advantage- and why are you booing ME?!"

 

Raynor turns out to face the wall of fans surrounding him, looking genuinely confused as to why he's getting this reaction.

 

“Jesus Christ…Riley, hold down the fort, will you? I’ve got to go talk to him…”

 

”Mark, are you sure you want to do that? I don’t think he wants you to…Mark? Hey, Mark!”

 

Riley’s protests are in vain as ‘Grand Slam’ Mark Stevens, leaving his headset behind it, leaves his announcing position for the first time in four months, and heads into the ring…

 

FWOOOOOOOOSH! THUNK!

 

FWOOOOOOOOSH! THUNK!

 

..only to be cut off by Silent coming out of the crowd, cane in hand, as Raynor…motions for the Slaughterer to join him in the ring?

 

“Edwin…your friends…are gone. Your fans…will be the next…to follow.”

 

Silent hands the mic back to Raynor and exits the ring, heading back up the ramp without so much as a glance behind him. A groggy MacPhisto’s eyes widen and focus on Raynor, who mutters a final phrase into the microphone, so soft as to barely be audible to the audience:

 

”You don’t believe me?!" Raynor asks, glaring out at the fans. "Fine... I'll prove it! Play the fucking tape! …I’ll see you in hell, Edwin.”

 

And with that, Raynor drops the microphone, steps over Stevens on his way out of the ring…and the tape plays, two stories high, on the Smarkstron, for MacPhisto fans around the world to see…

 

*******

 

The tape flickers to life, a date and time signature appearing at the bottom of the screen…

 

APW, Phoenix, Arizona.

 

October 24th, 1996.

 

…And the visage of Edwin MacPhisto, six years younger, appears on the screen, with a hapless opponent above his head cinched up for the Union Jack…but the other man lurches to the right, countering with a swinging neckbreaker!

 

Edwin’s mystery opponent rolls to his feet as Edwin rolls out of the ring, trying to recuperate…the camera gets a close-up of the mystery man, through the blood and sweat that cover his features…

 

The features of Damien Phillips. Nathaniel Kibagami.

 

…

 

Silent.

 

*CRUNCH*

 

Jimmy plants Kibagami headfirst onto a chair!

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

THREE!

 

**DING DING**

 

”Your winner via pinfall…Jimmy “Union Jack” Britain!”

 

But…Jimmy…isn’t finished. Edwin…Jimmy…takes the chair from beneath a bloodied Nathan…

 

“What the hell? Damn it, the match is over!”

 

CRACK!

 

CRACK!

 

CRACK!

 

CRACK!

 

CRACK!

 

CRACK!

 

CRACK!

 

“Damn it, Jimmy, you’ve won the match! That’s enough, for God’s sake!”

 

CRACK!

 

CRACK!

 

CRACK!

 

CRACK!

 

CRACK!

 

CRACK!

 

CRACK!

 

CRACK!

 

CRACK!

 

CRACK!

 

CRACK!

 

”Jesus Christ, somebody do something!”

 

CRACK!

 

CRACK!

 

CRACK!

 

“SOMEBODY CALL THE FUCKING PARAMEDICS!”

 

CRACK!

 

CRACK!

 

And in the ring ropes, his arms pinioned behind his back, a terrible sense of realization is growing in Edwin MacPhisto’s clouded mind…

 

Beaten, covered in blood (most of it not his own), Jimmy calmly sets up the terribly dented chair in the center of the ring. He pulls Nathaniel Kibagami to his feet, applies a standing headscissors, and lifts him for a powerbomb…

 

But he changes it a little bit.

 

Jimmy pushes Nathan down, keeping hold of his thighs, so that Kibagami’s head hangs just above Jimmy’s knees. Jackson hooks both of Nathan’s arms at the elbow…flashes a grotesque wink and a smile at the camera…and drives his helpless opponent’s unprotected neck down towards the chair…

 

“CUT THE FUCKING TAPE, NOW!”

 

The footage abruptly ends, leaving a blood-red APW logo in its place.

 

But not before a terrible, ominous cracking sound is heard.

 

************************

 

************

REVELATIONS

************

 

“...I can explain everything. This may take a while, folks,” says Edwin, “so sit back and let your Daddy Mac spin a tale.” The crowd response settles, and Edwin begins to orate like only he can.

 

“Six years ago, I was new to this game of ours. A fresh-faced youth. An excitable young man looking for hope, opportunity, and any sort of adventure he could find. I dillied around bingo halls and backyards for days, weeks, months, and in my travels I came upon Phoenix, Arizona, and a motley crew of characters. They fashioned themselves a federation, and to wide-eyed me, it was impressive and amazing—it was All-Pro Wrestling. It was APW.” The acronym leaves a bit of a sting on Edwin’s tongue, and he looks to the mat to regain his composure, listening as the chants start to return.

 

“I will cut to the chase, because I can sense impatience in the crowds here, and there’s nothing an entertainer hates more than to ostracize his fans…or have them ostracize him. What you saw Sunday night…what I saw, for the first time in 6 years…is a past. A memory. A time I would rather forget.”

 

“Forget?!?” snaps Riley. “You broke Silent’s neck! You don’t forget that!”

 

"It was the best of times in Phoenix, and it was the worst of times. Simply put, we were working hard, but we were working towards our dreams. I went by ‘Jimmy Britain’ at the time. Clever, no? Phoenix and its workers had a stability never before seen in the other drifting indies, wherever I had traveled…I met a horde of people there, and one of them was named Nathan Kibagami.” Edwin takes a breath. “Another was named Jessica Matheson.”

 

“A woman?” Riley raises his eyebrows and leans forward. “This is getting interesting…”

 

“It’s pretty simple, really,” continues Edwin grimly. “Guy meets guy. Guys become friends. Guy A meets girl…Guy B meets girl…conflict. To make a long story short, Nathan and I had a disagreement. He did things he shouldn’t have done, and, in response, I did things I shouldn’t have done.” Edwin looks down at the mat, pausing, listening to the lingering murmurs in the arena, before raising his head back up and speaking four fateful words:

 

“I broke Nathan’s neck.”

 

Silence.

 

“I did. I’m not proud of this. I didn’t mean to. Things…happen. Emotions take over, ladies and gents—you’ve all been there.” Faces in the crowd turn to each other, than back to the garrulous Brit. “Why do you think I ran? To get away? Fear? No—because I’d made a mistake, and I couldn’t absolve it there. Do you think I’m proud of what I’ve done? If you think that, you’re ridiculous! It took me almost 4 years to get away from his shadow, from my shadow—and all the time I was changing. Changing, thank god, for the better. Changing into a man who would take on mythical proportions when he found himself again…changing into a man who debuted on a grand stage on March 16th, 2001, inside an IGNML ring.” Several fans with decent memories pop, and the announcers look on, simply taking it all in. “I came here to find myself again…and I did. People can change…and I changed. I’ve always been changing. A second chance helped me change—I went out there, and I beat Tsunami, and I beat Spider Nekura, and I beat the Silencer, and when I won the Western US Title, when I heard my first devilishly loud crowd pop, when I felt myself really, truly smiling again—I knew I was on to something.”

 

“Edwin’s going way back into the history books on this one,” says Mark, “…and I think it’s working.”

 

“People changed me!” shouts Edwin, moving about the ring with force now, truly speaking from the heart. “Spark changed me! Brian Applewhite, the King of bloody Hearts changed me! I saw in them the glimmers of someone I’d once been, longer than 6 years ago, before the accident in Phoenix…the one, true prince…the man for the fans…the crown prince of flash and panache, and your ringmaster…Edwin MacPhisto.”

 

The cheers start to rise up again…weakly…but there.

 

“See! See!” he shouts, becoming jubilant now. “You’re remembering! You’re remembering all I’ve done—you’re remembering my falls from grace and my rises back to glory! You’re remembering when I came out to avenge the Carnival against the Suicide King! You’re remembering when Mark Stevens and I teamed to show the Clan whatfor! You’re remembering when I stopped Sacred, when I stopped Perfect Bo, when I stopped Chris Wilson—when I gave you the show you wanted, and gave all my heart doing it!”

 

Getting stronger now…

 

“He’s got them eating out of his hand, Bobby…and I think he’s right, Bobby. We might have been overreacting…”

 

“I can’t run anymore. He’s here, and he’s breathing down my neck, and one way or another, he’s turned one of my dearest friends against me. Chris Raynor…. A man can leave his past behind. He can learn from it. The sorrows are always with him, the mistakes are always with him…but they can make him into a hero. Someone who fights AGAINST injustice rather than partaking. Who fights crime better than the criminal? When tragedy strikes, you can became a better man, or you can become a bitter man. I’ve gone better—Silent’s gone bitter. And poor Christopher has gotten trapped in the middle.”

 

“We do, Edwin. We do,” affirms Mark Stevens.

 

“Come on Mark! Jesus Christ!”

 

“No, you come on, Bobby! Haven’t you ever done something wrong in your life? Haven’t you ever realized when you have to face facts? Edwin’s doing that now, and I admire him for it…”

 

“What I need from you, SWF fans,” entreats Edwin, “is your support. Your Carnival pride. Your reason, and your understanding: I’ve sinned, but I’ve redeemed myself. You’ve seen me before you for 18 months. You know what kind of a person I truly am. Think for yourself, and right now, I encourage you to make your own judgements.”

 

Edwin lowers the mic…and waits.

 

The fans in the Norfolk Arena stir…and in the back rows, a chant rises again. Weakly. But getting louder. Stronger.

 

“MacPhisto…”

 

“MacPhisto…”

 

Edwin smiles…and so do the fans.

 

“MAC-PHIST-OOOOO! MAC-PHIST-OOOOO! MAC-PHIST-OOOOO!”

 

“They’ve come around!” shouts Stevens. “The fans are on their for Edwin MacPhisto—they’re going to trust them, and see him through this! I think we’ve made the right choice, Bobby--”

 

Suddenly a rough voice shouts "SHUT UP!"

 

Edwin turns as a furious Chris Raynor stalks out from behind the curtain, and almost immediately a heavy rain of debris is heading his way. He dodges a cup, then brings the mic back up...

 

"You people believe him?!"

 

Twenty-thousand plus cheer their hearts out.

 

"YOU SAW THE TAPE!" Raynor flails his arms about, in absolutely disbelief. "You saw Wargames! You saw him sacrifice ME, and you believe him?!”

 

Raynor is forced to stop, as the cheering for Edwin and booing for himself has managed to completely drown out what he was saying. Edwin looks on gravely as Raynor tries to gather himself together... he slows himself down, before continuing...

 

"Wargames: Everyone from the Magnificent Seven is down but Outcast, who's breaking my arm. Everyone from the Carnival is down but Edwin, who's taking it to Danny. Edwin can take out Cast, save his friend, and they can do away with Danny together... or Edwin can go for the spotlight."

 

Raynor holds up one finger.

 

"So he loses Wargames for all of us. He's the leader of a losing stable. The fans don't want losers. What can Edwin do to remain their precious hero? Why, goad Wilson into ANOTHER fight, of course! He sacrificed our tag title reign for it, he signed that "pact" with Wilson which conveniently left the rest of the Carnival out... You do the math!"

 

He holds up another finger.

 

"This is just insane!" cries Mark. "He thinks Edwin sabotaged the title match just to put heat on him and Wilson?!"

 

"So he gets his big money match with Wilson, and he wins! Now what's left? Edwin's got nowhere else to go! He's defeated damn near everyone this league has to offer... so he authorizes the bump for a man who he crippled, just to-"

 

“Raynor, you shut your goddamned mouth and listen!" Raynor stops, a little in shock at this outburst. Edwin is now the one who's hot...

 

"Listen to yourself! You think I sacrificed our titles to push a match with Wilson?! You think I let you get second degree burns and a nearly broken arm to hype a match with Wilson?! You think I bumped Silent?!"

 

"How else would you explain it, Edwin?" Raynor fires back. "I've been in this federation for over a year and a half... I was the first Minor League Champion, and apparently I was good enough to be bumped in TWO WEEKS. From there, I got picked up by a little group called DIE HARD, you know, only one of the most dominant stables ever in the history of this company... I've had a US Title reign, FOUR Tag Title reigns... I beat MARK FUCKING STEVENS for the Intercontinental-Television Title - and where am I now? Where I've always been - right in the fucking middle, and I'm SICK OF IT!"

 

Raynor glares, fire in his eyes, piercing a hole right through MacPhisto.

 

“You were scared. You were scared that maybe you weren't cut out to be the number one good guy, that it was someone elses time. So what do you do? Buddy up to the guy you're trying to hold back! I'm not gonna question the World Champion when he's my partner and coholder of the Tag Team Championships with me, am I?"

 

"So you wanted a shot?" Edwin quickly fires back, now heated up again. "Why didn't you ask?!”

 

“Because of the second degree burns and a nearly broken shoulder! Sure Edwin, it's easy to say that now, when I was injured beyond all hope of beating you!… And getting back to Silent - you stop me from fighting to "protect me", then let me go out just one week later, while feeding Z to him instead?! Z's got everything you've got, Edwin - charisma, heart, and an obscenely large fanbase - hell, with me out of the way, he would've been best bet for your usurper! So you figure two birds with one stone, an-"

 

"Where the HELL are you getting all this, Raynor?! Go find a hidden security camera tape with me plotting with McWeed to book these matches, or, or, or a transcription of a telephone call, because all you're doing is connecting the dots without a god-damn pencil!"

 

“You were careful - that’s why it took me a year to get it… I’ll fight you, Edwin—I’ll fight you now! I’ll show these people who’s right, and who’s wrong, and who the real hero is!”

 

“Not today, Chris,” smirks the Mac Daddy. “Not today.” And with that, as Raynor bolts towards ringside, Edwin bails out of the ring, leaps the guardrail…and is borne back and away on the arms of the cheering fans, surfing him out of the crowd! Raynor tries to make the leap, but the fans hold him back, not letting him get an inch out into their midst!

 

“The fans have spoken,” shouts Mark Stevens, as “Battleflag” starts to blare, “and they’ve spoken with authority—for now, Edwin MacPhisto has their trust, and Chris Raynor has their scorn!”

 

***********

FIRST BLOOD

*************

 

Raynor’s sitting on the top rope and reels Magnifico in. He lifts him up into the air, standing on the second rope…THEN SLAMS HIM DOWN TO THE MAT WITH A SICKENING SUPERBOMB, FOLDING MAGNIFICO UP LIKE AN ACCORDION!

 

“… but he’s too winded to cover!” shouts Mark, hope springing eternal. “He- what the hell is Wilson doing?”

 

“Getting a chair, it would seem...”

 

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

 

“I said Hallelujah - to the sixteen loyal fans-ah!”

 

“Edwin’s here! Edwin’s here!”

 

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

 

“Springing Sidekick!”

 

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

 

*DING DING DING*

 

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

 

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

 

 

…

 

 

…

 

 

 

…

 

 

 

 

…where’s that goddamned ref?

 

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

 

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

 

Raynor groggily picks his head up, and swivels it around to see Edwin and Wilson trading blows on the outside.

 

Son of a bitch.

 

******************

CROSSING THE LINE

******************

 

As Edwin rises, a loud roar suddenly erupts from the crowd, as every fan in the arena begins to boo! The viewers at home are confused as to what’s going on, until the shot swings up to the entrance ramp, showing Chris Raynor barreling towards the ring at a full sprint!

 

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

 

Apparently not hearing Stevens’ plea, Raynor slides under the ropes and pops up behind Edwin, who is just reaching his feet. MacPhisto slowly turns around, oblivious to Chris’s presence, and comes face-to-face with the former Carnie, who suddenly charges! As Raynor approaches Edwin, he throws his foot into the air, looking to connect with a Big Boot! However, MacPhisto manages to duck beneath Raynor’s foot, spinning around to face the traitor! The very second that MacPhisto is in front of Raynor is the moment he thrusts his palm out, slamming it into Chris’ chest with a Shotei!

 

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

 

“Holy crap! Magnifico got back to his feet as Raynor tried to disrupt the match, giving him the opportunity to take Edwin completely by surprise with a Baja California Crusher! The fans are completely lambasting Magnifico for taking advantage of Edwin’s distraction!”

 

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

 

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

 

Magnifico slowly lifts up his arm and lets it drop….onto Edwin’s chest. The ref slides into position and begins counting, as the fans become impossibly loud…

 

ONE…

 

TWO…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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

 

*DING DING DING*

 

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

 

 

****************************

THE BATTLE LINES ARE DRAWN

****************************

 

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

 

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

 

“No, Mag, I don’t have any issue with you—mind you, if they decide to give me a rematch, I’ll come out fighting, but I know you wouldn’t want that any other way.” The luchadore champeen nods his approval, and Edwin resumes. “However,” he continues, pacing once more, "there is one man who I have to deal with yet. One man whom I’d like to deal with immediately. That man…is Chris Raynor.”

 

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

 

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

 

“Edwin’s laying it down for Chris Raynor, right now!” shouts Stevens.

 

“I’ve held the world title,” continues Edwin, “and I’ve done a million grand things. But lately, my focus has waned—I have not been on the top of my game, and I have not been at my best for the Carnival. There are, you see, two stressors in my life—Chris Raynor is one, and…Silent, is the other. I’ve become self-absorbed in these two men…and that’s how I must stay. I can’t go on like this. The bottom line is this, ladies and gentlemen. I cannot pursue these bitter grudges and lead the Carnival at the same time.” Edwin looks up and faces Mag, who looks on with concern. Edwin nods…and Mag responds.

 

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

 

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

 

Mark is absolutely dumbfounded. “Edwin’s giving up leadership of the Carnival?!”

 

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

 

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

 

“What’s Edwin saying?” asks Riley, suspiciously…

 

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

 

“Ladies and gentlemen, I, Edwin MacPhisto, hand over the reigns of the greatest stable in the history of the SWF, the Midnight Carnival…to the one, the only…

 

 

…Alex “Z” Zenon!”

 

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

 

*******

 

(FLASH to Storm)

 

“This is Raynor’s shot - his chance to prove he belongs in the bigtime!”

 

(clips of the Boston Crap on the chair, chair shots, ring bell shots, stair shots…)

 

“I think he’s going for the new Acid Rayn!”

 

“I’m not sure he can pull this out, Mark!”

 

With a roar of pain, exhaustion, and pure determination, Raynor manages to lift Wilson up, and gets him straight upright in the vertical suplex position!

 

“Wilson is tipping back and forth, and Raynor’s having one hell of a time keeping him upright!”

 

Raynor’s strength gives out completely, and he merely ends up letting Wilson go. Wilson is dropped straight down, down, down, and he lands in a VERY painful way, on the back of his head and neck! Raynor falls down next to him, winded to the extreme…

 

And then…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“I said Hallelujah-”

 

“RRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH!”

 

“NO! NO NO NO!” shouts Riley, as MacPhisto ROCKETS out from behind the curtain - CHAIR IN HAND!

 

“YES!” Mark shouts, “It’s Edwin! Give ‘em what for, Mac Daddy! Raynor’s got this coming!”

 

CRACK!

 

“Edwin is absolutely DESTROYING his former best friend!”

 

CRACK!

 

“Lookout!”

 

CA-FUCKING-RACK!

 

The gash on Raynor’s head stops bleeding and starts GUSHING, and he spins on his heels and falls flat on his back. Edwin throws the chair aside and grabs Raynor by the hair, soaking his own hands in blood but not really caring, and the rolls the ex-Carny into the ring, and then turns back for the ramp, and the fans are LOVING IT.

 

Chris Wilson stumbles up and trips over his own feet to get to Raynor! He huddles over Raynor’s body, and takes a few seconds to roll him onto his back before collapsing on top of him.

 

One.

 

Two.

 

Three.

 

“Wilson wins! Wilson wins!”

 

*DING DING DING*

 

The fans are absolutely roaring with approval, with all the praise directed towards Edwin, who stands triumphant at the top of the ramp!

 

“The winner of this bout… CHRIIIIIISSS WILSOOOOOON!”

 

“Wilson wins the match, but Edwin steals the show,” Mark shouts over the ever-increasing noise of the fans. “And Raynor - Raynor lost! Edwin may have interfered, but Raynor LOST! Will Stubby still hold it against him?!”

 

***************

SECOND CHANCE

***************

 

"I'm here with Edwin, and Mac Daddy, I just wanted to ask you about your actions last week."

 

"Well I'll tell you, Hardy," Edwin says, chipper as ever, as he takes the microphone from Ben. "Raynor worked his ass off for that shot. He took it to Wilson with everything he had. He put his life, his soul... he put EVERYTHING into getting that shot. So I took it from him. Just like you took my title, Raynor, that I put EVERYTHING I had into, from me." Edwin suddenly brightens up again.

 

"So how does it feel, Raynor? Not so good, huh? I mean, here's the one thing you wanted more than anything else in the world... and *POOF*... it's gone! I certainly can relate to the feeling, but being as batty as your are right now, I'm sure I came out ahead on this little exchange." He turns back to Hardy. "That good enough?”

 

"RRAAAAAGH!"

 

*CRACK*

 

Edwin MacPhisto slumps to the ground, and Hardy runs screaming like a girl! The camera pans over to see Chris Raynor, and-

 

"He's got a damn chair, Riley!"

 

"Good! About time someone shut Edwin up!"

 

Raynor flings the chair away and picks Edwin up by his hair, and begins to drag him down the hallway!

 

"Oh no, somebody stop him-"

 

*CRASH*

 

-and he HEAVES EDWIN HEAD-FIRST INTO A SODA MACHINE! The front panel shatters, and now has a large hole in the front, where Edwin's head rests, and where the rest of his body hangs from!

 

"Raynor just put Edwin right through the soda machine! Someone get him out of there!"

 

Edwin's body falls sideways and his head is dragged out, bloodied almost beyong recognition. Raynor swipes at the officials trying to help, keeping them away! He then grabs Edwin by the trenchcoat and pulls him up, right to his face...

 

"YOU SON OF A BITCH! YOU THI-"

 

Raynor suddenly flies offscreen, and takes down a few officials before crashing into the wall! The camera turns back-

 

"It's Magnifico!" shouts Mark, and the crowd erupts as the pissed off Mexican goes stalking for Raynor! The ex-Carny is on his knees, touching his head where it hit the wall, but he suddenly bolts upright and charges for Magnifco-

 

-Magnifico falls and clips Raynor over with a drop-toehold! Raynor's head hits the floor with a sickening *THUD*! Uttering Spanish obscenities at an incredibly high rate, he drags Raynor up by the hair and heads down the hallway!

 

"Chris Raynor and Magnifico are brawling backstage - we've got to go to commercials, but we'll try to keep the cameras on them! Stay with us!"

 

*******

 

(FLASH to the Main Event)

 

“It’s Raynor and Magnifico, non-title, and Edwin won’t be able to interfere!”

 

“Raynor was assaulted before the match!” Riley cries in protest. “Edwin probably set the whole damn thing up!”

 

Raynor holds Magnifico perpendicular to the mat for a few seconds, impressing many and drawing boos out of even more, before pushing ELM forward, ready to finish him off! But in the middle of the pushing process, Magnifico manages to break free of Chris’ grasp, landing on his feet right behind Raynor with his back facing his opponent’s! The very seconds ELM hits the mat, he reaches back, grabs Chris’ arms as if for a Backslide, and then charges towards the nearest corner, Raynor in tow! A loud pop rises from the stands as Magnifico rushes up the turnbuckles, pushing backwards off of the top turnbuckle and flipping over Chris’ head! Magnifico lands knees-first on the mat, slamming Raynor’s skull into the canvas with a Baja California Crusher!

 

“WHOA!” Stevens is forced to yell over the INSANE roar of the crowd! “Out of nowhere, Magnifico reverses Acid Rayn into the Baja California Crusher! And Raynor’s forehead has been busted open once more!

 

“Goddamn cheating luchadores! Magnifico should have been ejected from the building the minute he laid his hands on Raynor backstage!”

 

ONE...

 

TWO...

 

T

H

R

E

E

E

E

E

!!

 

*DING DING DING*

 

“Magnifico wins! Magnifico wins!”

 

The wily Mexican leaps to his feet and promptly falls down again, with the exhaustion now setting in - but it doesn’t matter, as the sight and sounds of the fans give him the strength he needs to get back to his feet!

 

“Your winner, by pinfall...El Luchadooooooorre Magnificooooooo!!

 

“Will Raynor ever get a fair shot in this league?” Riley asks with disgust.

 

“Gimme a freaking break, Riley! Magnifico was only avenging Edwin for what Raynor did to him before the match! ELM’s actions were completely understandable!”

 

“Bullshit, Stevens! They were sneaky, underhanded, and totally irresponsible! Raynor got screwed AGAIN!”

 

**************

OVER THE EDGE

**************

 

“And Raynor does not look happy to be here,” says Mark, as the ex-Carny stalks down the ramp.

 

“Would you be?!” counters Riley. “He’s gone from Main Eventing to curtain jerking in a matter of weeks! He was robbed of his chance to be big, and he’s being punished!”

 

*******

 

Raynor grabs the ropes and pulls himself up, and Ced-

 

-is already up! He’s a bit woozy, but he knows what he’s doing, and he hobbles over to Raynor-

 

-boot to the gut! Raynor grabs him and pulls him in-

 

“Setting up for the Acid Rayn!”

 

-but Ced knees him in the stomach! Raynor’s dazed, and a second knee makes his grip on Ced loosen! Ordonez pulls his knee back-

 

Raynor angrily shoves Ced away, thwarting another upstart, then as Ced charges again he fires his foot up and boots him in the gut a second time, then pulls him in! He hooks Ced’s arm around his shoulder, hooks the tights-

 

“Here it comes, Mark!”

 

-and without giving Ced time to counter, he lifts him and holds him upright, in a vertical suplex position! Before he can try to counter, Raynor lets go and locks his arms around Ced’s waist as he falls, and at the same time kneels down, power bombing Ced head-and-neck-first onto his knee! Ced folds up and flops off, twitches once, and goes still.

 

“And it looks like Raynor’s got this one wrapped up, folks- wait... What the hell is he doing?”

 

Raynor stands over Ced Ordonez, doing the opposite of pinning him… which is not pinning him. Instead he grabs Ced by the hair and drags him back up to his feet-

 

“Oh come on, once was enough, Raynor!”

 

“No it wasn’t! He’s sending a message to management!”

 

Raynor hooks Ordonez and lifts him up again, having a little trouble with Ced being quite out of it at the moment, but he gets him upright, drops him, Powerbomb on the knee!

 

“Two consecutive Acid Rayn’s! Just pin him, Raynor, he doesn’t deserve this!”

 

The referee too begins yelling at Raynor “Cover him! Cover him, damnit!”, but Raynor angrily shakes his head and grabs Ordonez by the arm, and drags him up to his feet again. He hooks Ced’s arm, his tights, puuuuuulls him upright, drop and WHAM! Powerbomb on the knee! Ced sort of rolls off and falls limp to the mat again, and finally-

 

“-and after THREE Acid Rayns, finally, Raynor makes the cover… and an arrogant one at that!”

 

Raynor rolls Ced onto his back and just leans on top of him. The crowd boos like hell as the referee drops and counts.

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

T

H

R

E

E

!!

 

Raynor rolls off quickly and jumps to his feet, arms in the air, expecting a chee-

 

”BOOOOOOOOOOOO!

 

*DING DING DING*

 

“The winner of this bout… Chriiiiiis Rayyyynooooorrrr!”

 

“Well Chris Raynor wins it,” Mark begins, a hint of disgust in his voice, “but that was a sickening display!”

 

“He did what he had to do,” Riley counters. “He was shafted out of every chance he’s had so far, so he’s making people notice him now on his own.”

 

**************

THE CHALLENGE

**************

 

“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…

 

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

 

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

 

“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!”

 

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

 

“YES!” shouts Riley, at the top of his lungs.

 

"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.

 

Edwin MacPhisto springs out from underneath the SmarkTron! 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-”

 

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

 

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."

 

Raynor smirks, and waits for the crowd to die down…

 

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

 

Raynor leans in closer to Edwin…

 

"… 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 farther 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…”

 

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.

 

"So Edwin," he begins to wind down, "I want you to bring it all... every cleverly named move... every finisher 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!"

 

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-”

 

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. I allowed you -graciously allowed you- to win that match…so I could beat the everlasting hell out of you afterwards.”

 

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? I’m sure you remember that, Raynor. I’m sure you remember when Zenon came 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!

 

Silent hands his cane to Chris Raynor.

 

FWOOOOOOOOSH! THUNK!

 

FWOOOOOOOOSH! THUNK!

 

FWOOOOOOOOSH! THUNK!

 

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! 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 and points to the Slaughterer…

 

"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?"

 

 

 

 

Silent smiles…

 

 

 

 

 

And nods.

 

 

 

 

 

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...

 

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

 

************

REDEMPTION

************

 

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!

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

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

 

THREEEEEEE!

 

*DING DING DING*

 

“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!”

 

FWOOOOOOOSH! THUNK!

 

FWOOOOOOOSH! THUNK!

 

FWOOOOOOOSH! THUNK!

 

FWOOOOOOOSH! THUNK!

 

Silent isn’t finished.

 

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. As Thoth and Silent exchange words on the mic, officials pour out from the back and begin trying to peel Raynor off of Edwin, but Raynor refuses to break the hold!

 

********

 

The Smarktron’s package slowly fades into blackness, and the crowd buzz begins to grow…

[Guest BA_Baracus]

“And now, everyone, the match I’ve been waiting for all night long,” says Mark Stevens, fidgeting in his seat as the hype package fades away. Plastered on the SmarkTron are the grinning and scowling images of Edwin MacPhisto and Chris Raynor respectively, with a tattered VS between them. The fans are beginning to grow restless, coming off that brutal Number One Contendor’s match-

 

“The following contest,” Funyon booms, “is a LAST MAN STANDING match!”

 

WHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

 

“The match will go on until one man cannot answer the ten count!”

 

Just as Funyon lower his microphone, the haunting melody of “Battleflag“ slips in-

 

“- and would you listen to that ovation!” Mark is forced to scream at the top of his lungs over the crowd in the PNE Coliseum, which absolutely erupts as the Lo-Fidelity AllStars’ Anthem kicks up! The beat drops in, the lights drop out, and a booming British voice arises from somewhere backstage:

 

"In the beginning, God made the sea...and on the seventh day, he made me!" roars Edwin MacPhisto over the crowd's ovation. "Here we stand at Genesis III, the greatest stage for the greatest federation of would-be troubadours and are-be gladiators, where we separate the mice from the men...and the bitches from the princes. Hallelujah and goodnight to former friends and all-time traitors--if it's a fight you want, Chris, it's a fight you're getting, one hundred percent Carnival style! Step right up and get your ticket, because when all's said and done, it's one man or the other, and while you'll be mercy-demanding and always crash-landing I will be, once and for all...the last...man...standing."

 

As Edwin finishes his speech, the music makes its final swell and the spotlights break off their pendulous paths and spiral out into the arena, completely symmetrical in their ripping arc until they come back to the entrance stage and meet, a stuttering drumbeat echoing as they collide and send forth a wall of sudden purple strobe lights.

 

“I said Hallelujah - to the sixteen loyal fans-ah,

For getting down on your motha’fuckin’ knees-”

 

And Edwin MacPhisto swipes the curtain aside and sashays onto the stage, for another tremendous pop from the crowd! His trench coat flows carelessly behind him as he storms off to one side of the stage, mingling with the aisle sitters, doing his best to be himself… at least, for now!

 

“Introducing first, from Amsterdam, England… weighing in at two hundred and thirty-nine pounds… The Crown Prince of Flash and Panache! The Mac Daddy! Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you… EDWIIIIIIIIIIN MACPHIIIIIISTOOOOOOOOOO!”

 

Edwin cocks his head toward the ring, giving a somewhat forced goofy grin, then slowly heads down the ramp, stopping to live it up with the fans for as long as he can.

 

“Ha!” snorts Riley. “This is his way of saying goodbye - Raynor was right! No matter what Edwin brings, it won’t be enough!”

 

MacPhisto finally reaches ringside, and he sighs a heavy sigh…

 

…

 

Oh screw it.

 

And he takes a quick lap around the ring, giving the fans just a little bit more! “Battleflag” continues to rage on, pumping the fans up to unprecedented heights! “Yea! Go get ‘em, Edwin!” Mark shouts as the Mac Daddy passes the announce table, and they share a high five before Edwin attends to the other half of the ringside area.

 

“Suck up.”

 

“… Riley, tonight is the biggest show of the year. Everyone is watching this show. If you continue to get on my nerves, everyone watching the biggest show of the year, that everyone being EVERYONE, will see you get your ass kicked. Are we clear?”

 

Riley just whimpers.

 

Finally, Edwin breaks away from the crowd, having slapped every hand and kissed every baby he could reach, and he rolls into the ring. Funyon strides quickly forward and offers him a handshake, and a sound “Good luck,” prompting a groan from Bobby. Edwin drops his head, looking straight down… takes a deep breath…

 

… then turns back to the ramp, his face wholly transformed.

 

There is no more joy in the eyes of MacPhisto… no more skip in his step… no more smiles or grins or smirks… Edwin MacPhisto’s face is stone cold, and locked firmly on the curtain beneath the SmarkTron, which flutters in a slight breeze…

 

… then shakes suddenly, as “The Grudge” pounds out over the PA, much louder than ever before - presumably to drown out the fans, who are now lobbing garbage down at the stage! Only a select few pieces make it, and most has been thrown before the curtain flies aside…

 

… and out steps Chris Raynor, wearing the cockiest god-damned smirk one could ever want to see. Hands on his hips, he slowly strolls out on the stage, right into the line of fire from Edwin’s eyes, and each man is wholly unphased by the other. Raynor stops at the top of the ramp and just… stares back…

 

“… his opponent, from Baton Rouge, Louisianaaa… weighing in at two hundred and fifty pounds… CHRIIIIIIIIIIS RAYYYYNOOOOOOR!”

 

Raynor quickly shoots Funyon a dirty look, for not gussying up his entrance, then turns back to Edwin - and gives a slight shudder… something in Edwin’s face-…

 

Raynor shakes himself out of it and starts down the ramp, as Edwin steps back to give him room. Funyon takes his leave before Raynor even reaches ringside - another indignant act duly noted by the ex-Carny.

 

“Yea!” shouts Riley, pumping his fists in the air. “THERE’S your hero, people! Whoo-whoo-whoooooooo!”

 

Raynor climbs up onto the apron, hanging on to the ropes, and still looking straight into Edwin’s eyes… he slowly swings one foot over the top, then the other, his view always on his opponent… once inside the ring, he steps back and leans in the corner, and-

 

“Matty Kivell apparently drew the short straw tonight,” Stevens notes as Matty slides in the ring, “because he’s reffing this fight… I can’t say I envy him…”

 

Kivell takes a deep breath, then calls Raynor and Edwin to the center of the ring, and begins explaining the rules.

 

Edwin nods…

 

… Raynor nods…

 

… and Kivell signals for the bell-

 

*WHAM*

 

-and Raynor blasts MacPhisto right in his left eye, with a blatantly closed fist!

 

*DING DING DING*

 

Edwin stumbles backwards and Raynor chases quickly after him, pulling his arm back and socking the Mac Daddy in his jaw!

 

“God damn,” Mark says, “he’s not pulling anything on those punches!”

 

“Nor should he!” Riley responds, just before an “OOOOOH!” from the crowd marks a third punch sending Edwin falling back into the corner! Edwin’s right hand rests on the top rope while his left covers his eye - Raynor steps forward-

 

*WHOOOSH*

 

-and Edwin fakes a punch with his left fist and recklessly swings his right one into the side of Raynor’s head! Raynor’s stunned just long enough for Edwin to pull his hand back again, open his fist, and jam it straight forward into Raynor’s face, right between the eyes, in a vicious Shotei Palmstrike! The crowd goes wild as Edwin pulls his hand back again, Shotei! Again, Shotei! Again, Shotei, and then-

 

*SLAP*

 

*SLAP*

 

*WHOOSH*

 

Two bitchslaps and a lightning quick spinning heel kick drop Raynor straight to the canvas!

 

“Cocktail o’ Shame! And Raynor doesn’t look happy about it!”

 

“Of course he doesn’t,” counters Riley, “those things taste like shit!”

 

“… wow… that was bad.”

 

Raynor quickly jumps to his feet and gets defensive - but Edwin’s stopped, across the ring, just staring back. Raynor flushes bright bright red, and he takes a moment to clear the cobwebs, then he and Edwin back up as far as possible from each other, and slowly start to circle…

 

“Man,” Riley says, “if those punches were half as hard as they looked, Edwin’s gonna have quite the shiner tomorrow morning… let’s hope Raynor keeps this up!”

 

As the two continue to circle, the crowd starts up with an “ED-WIN! ED-WIN! ED-WIN!” chant. Edwin turns his head slightly to the crowd, and Raynor dives at him-

 

-Edwin sidesteps Raynor and lunges from behind, grabbing him in a side headlock! He quickly cinches it in as tight as he can, while Raynor kicks and bucks and flails to get free! He manages to pull Edwin into the ropes, then uses the momentum coming off to shove the Mac Daddy away! Edwin heads across the ring, picking up steam, hit’s the ropes and comes rocketing back to Raynor, and runs right into a stiff shoulder block! The ex-Carny takes his turn at the ropes as Edwin gets to his feet-

 

-Raynor comes charging back, but Edwin catches him in a drop toe-hold! Raynor’s face slams into the canvas, and now Edwin goes back to the ropes! Raynor staggers to his feet-

 

-just in time to duck a clothesline, reach behind, and nail a quick from-behind neck breaker! Raynor jumps to his feet and goes to the ropes again as Edwin stumbles up-

 

-then jumps up, “-and levels Raynor with a Springing Sidekick! And I think that will end THAT exchange,” says Mark.

 

“Good,” says Riley, “because I was getting dizzy!”

 

Raynor’s not so quick to get up this time, so Edwin helps him to his feet with a handful of hair… then drives the point of his elbow down into the back of Raynor’s neck! Raynor starts to fall, but Edwin keeps ahold of his hair and pulls him back up, then slams a second elbow into his neck! This time he lets Raynor go, and the ex-Carny falls to the mat.

 

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

Edwin gives the referee a “What the fuck are you doing?” look. Kivell shrugs back, then-

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

Raynor rolls up to his feet and falls into the ropes, holding his neck…

 

“Remember, Riley,” Mark notes, “Thoth and Edwin were working that neck over something fierce on Smarkdown - I’d bet that’s going to be Edwin’s prime target.”

 

“Further proof that Edwin is a moron,” Riley counters. “You go for the legs in this kind of match, that’s all there is to it. A neck-ache isn’t going to stop someone from getting up.”

 

One of Raynor’s hands massages the back of his neck, while the other holds the ropes. Edwin waits patiently across the ring, waits until Raynor shakes the kinks from his neck and slowly walks out... The Mac Daddy bounces on the balls of his feet, taunting his former teammate and beckoning him to come on, and Raynor trots forward, shouting out at the crowd…and getting no heed, as they tear into him with a barrage of boos!

 

“Raynor’s absolutely deluded if he thinks the fans are going to be on his side tonight,” murmurs Stevens. “He’s been picking away at Edwin ever since Apocalypse, whining and bitching for a match…and now he’s got it, so he better stand up and take it!”

 

With a dismissive wave, Raynor turns back towards the obviously ignorant fans, back towards Edwin…and a boot to the gut! The Mac Daddy’s toe rocks Raynor’s ribcage and the Carnival Judas doubles over into a front facelock! “Edwin caught Raynor off guard, and--”

 

WHAM!

 

Edwin drills Raynor’s skull into the canvas with a stiff and solid smash, rocking Raynor’s neck once more and sending him bouncing away in pain! The fans raise up a solid cheer, and Edwin gets back to his feet, breathing bloody murder as he stalks after the retreating Raynor, closing the distance in just three lanky steps. Reaching down and pulling Raynor up by the hair, Edwin grins…and suddenly Raynor lunges a clubbed fist upward, looking for a low blow! The crowd gasps, but Edwin crosses his knee around and pumps it fiercely into Raynor’s jaw, knocking him backwards and blocking the nutshot! “You can’t pull one over on the former world champ like that, Raynor!” scowls Stevens. “You’d think he’d have picked up SOMETHING during his run with the Carnival.”

 

“He couldn’t!” snaps Riley. “Edwin was holding him down!”

 

“… Edwin held him down from learning how to hit a nutshot?”

 

“… yes…”

 

“Oh, sod off.”

 

Cracking his neck and making an exaggerated “whew, that was close” gesture, Edwin moves to reacquire the skull-shaken Raynor, pulling him up by his hair and snapping a firm headlock onto his adversary. With a dazed Raynor in tow, Edwin reaches his other hand out, gesturing to the crowd, who give a resounding roar of approval! Satisfied, Edwin dashes forward, looking to spin and sit out…but before Edwin can land the Midnight Special, Raynor plants his feet and shoves his former leader off! “Raynor’s seen that move plenty of times!” cackles Riley as Edwin surges forward, keeping his momentum up as he runs the ropes. “No way Edwin’s going to pull it over on HIM!” Edwin bounces back and leaps at the braced Raynor, leading with a forearm…but Raynor doesn’t wait for the impact! Moving forward with an aggressive confidence, Raynor scoops Edwin up in mid-air and tilt-a-whirls him around…and down over his knee with a ferocious backbreaker!

 

“Big hit on the Crown Prince—damn that Raynor! He’s picked up a nasty intensity since he’s left the Carnival!”

 

“Best career move he’s ever made!” snickers Riley. The crowd fires back with a surge of boos as Raynor flows fluidly from one backbreaker right into another, busting Edwin’s spine a second time! Edwin cries out, but before the Mac Daddy’s pained gasps can register, Chris Raynor jacks him up one more time, this time twisting Edwin around, carefully lining his lower leg up with the knee…and slamming the Mac Daddy down with a stiff shinbreaker! Edwin hits with a frightening pop and this time glances off Raynor’s knee and into the mat, cradling his impacted left leg, but before he can find much relief, Raynor is back up, and walking right over Edwin, making a special point of stomping on the knee and twisting his heel as he passes over! “Now that’s the ticket!” Riley shouts. “Raynor knows what you’ve got to do—you’ve got to take out those legs so that even if your opponent wants to beat the 10 count, he can’t! Raynor won his ML world title this way—he knows what he’s doing!”

 

“Riley,” remarks Stevens, rolling his eyes, “I hardly think Ted Flink and Soul Assassin were on the same level as Edwin MacPhisto.”

 

“You’re right,” concedes Riley. “Flink could take Edwin any day.”

 

Matty Kivell starts to count Edwin down, but before he can get past one, Raynor has the Mac Daddy back up with a quick arm wrench, stepping forward to whip him across the ring. Hobbling a bit on the knee but using the mad dash to shake it back into place, Edwin rebounds…and Raynor rushes forward, looking to pop him right in the face with a big elbow! Edwin ducks at the last second and Raynor breezes past, his elbow lightly brushing past Edwin’s fiery red mane as both men run the ropes to a big crowd cheer! The two former friends bounce back towards center stage in a flash, and this time Edwin’s not so lucky—instead of the elbow, Chris Raynor offers up a big boot, and it pastes Edwin right in the kisser! The crowd deflates like a balloon just pierced by an evil, sadistic, happiness-hating clown as Edwin ka-thunks to the mat, resembling a slab of raw, unconscious meet as Raynor blazes past. Kivell drops to count…

 

 

ONE!

 

 

TWO!

 

 

THREE!

 

 

And after a slight rest, Edwin pushes himself back up…only to take a stiff kick to the ribs from Raynor, dropping him back down onto his face. Raynor presses his foot down on Edwin’s back, taking an arrogant hands-on-hips stance as he shifts his weight onto Edwin! “Utter disrespect from Chris Raynor—he’d better watch out, Bobby, or Edwin’s going to turn this right around on him!” Edwin tries to roll over, but Raynor steps off and takes care of it for him with a big shove of the foot, flopping Edwin onto his back before stomping forward and dropping a knee right across Edwin’s chest! “Raynor’s going for a policy of utter and total decimation of Edwin, it seems,” suggests Stevens.

 

Edwin desperately makes for the edge of the ring, and he snares the bottom rope with both hands just as Raynor grabs his feet. Raynor starts to walk backwards, and suddenly loses his grip, having not noticed Edwin’s support! Edwin jerks his feet in and swings himself between the bottom rope and the ring to the outside, landing upright! Raynor growls and storms after him, leaning over the top rope, but Edwin springs up and hangs him up across the top! Raynor does a 180 and falls to his knees, holding his throat, and Edwin hops up onto the apron, jumps and springs off the top rope, and drives a beautiful Missile Dropkick into the back of the Carny-defector’s head, slamming it forward into the mat!

 

“OH!” Mark winces at the impact. “A perfect Springboard Dropkick - Raynor could be out cold!”

 

 

ONE!

 

 

TWO!

 

 

TH-

 

But Edwin’s not done with him, oh no… not yet. The Mac Daddy grabs Raynor’s arm and leads him up to his feet, then floats over behind him and wraps his arms around Raynor’s waist! The crowd cheers, and Raynor freaks out, throwing elbows wildly back, trying to hit something, anything, but Edwin’s too quick - he dodges an elbow, then leans back and hoists Raynor up and over him, dropping him on the back of his head with a German Suplex! He frees his arms and Raynor rolls to the outside, crying out in pain!

 

“Doesn’t seem like such a stupid idea NOW, does it Riley?”

 

“Just you wait.”

 

Raynor lands on his feet but quickly drops to the mat, bracing his neck… Edwin gets the gears in his mind going…

 

*DING*

 

A light bulb goes off, and Edwin heads over to the ropes above Raynor, who’s just now getting to his feet. Edwin pulls on the top rope and leans back, to spring off-

 

-Raynor dives in and grabs Edwin’s legs, then yanks them back out! Edwin falls straight down to the canvas, smacking the back of his head, and is temporarily stunned, giving Raynor time to counter! The ex-Carny, still on the outside, pulls Edwin’s left leg through the top and middle ropes, his knee hanging on it, then lets it hang there as he climbs up onto the apron. He fires off a dirty look to the fans, then takes one running step forward and jumps off, dropping a leg - and a whole lot of force, over that hung knee! Edwin is pulled forward from the impact, and his temporary stun has been totally lost - the Mac Daddy yanks his leg back in and cradles it, while Raynor slowly rolls in after him.

 

“I am SO buying the Genesis III DVD for this, Mark.”

 

“Riley, you tool - that doesn’t come out until November 22nd of this year, and it will be loaded with extra features and backstage interviews. Priced to move at $24.95, pre-order your copy today!”

 

Mark sighs disgustedly, then begins again… “Now that that’s out of the way…”

 

“Yea, now you can comment on Raynor’s superior leg strategy.”

 

Raynor climbs up to his feet and totally ignores whatever count the referee is on - he storms right over to Edwin and does a quick-pivot and fall, dropping his elbow across the targeted left knee. He quickly rolls over and holds Edwin in place, then, keeping Edwin down, he swings his feet up, then slams one of his knees into Edwin’s! The end result?

 

AAAAAAAGH!

 

Edwin rolls away again - now it looks like he’s headed for the outside, but Raynor will have none of it - he grabs MacPhisto by the leg and drags him back to the center of the ring and up to his feet. Edwin’s left knee buckles, but Raynor holds him upright on his own. He bends down and picks Edwin up, military-press style-

 

-Edwin rolls off behind Raynor and lands upright!

 

And catches a reverse elbow in the side of the head! The Mac Daddy goes down, and Raynor takes a moment to look down at him… and smirk… then he heads for the ropes facing the announcers.

 

“Well, it sure didn’t take Raynor long to head for the chairs.”

 

“Yea baby, YE-… hey, what’s THAT supposed to mean?!”

 

The crowd begins to buzz as Raynor rolls out of the ring and stalks towards Funyon - Funyon knows the drill, and graciously allows Raynor to make off with his chair. Raynor slams the chair shut and heads back for the ring-

 

-then he whirls around and CREAMS Funyon with the chair!

 

“Oh COME ON!” shouts Mark, as the fans get all over Raynor. The ex-Carny sneers and drops to one knee, getting down in Funyon’s face and shouting “NEXT TIME YOU SHOW ME SOME GODDAMNED RESPECT!”

 

“You tell ‘em, Raynor!” Bobby cheers. “That’ll learn him to flash up Edwin’s entrance and not yours!”

 

“This is just sick - can we get some help down here for- wait a minute, here comes Edwin!”

 

Edwin hits the opposite ropes and comes running back, taking a quicker step on his left leg each time - he drops down and pulls his left leg in and sticks his right leg out, into a semi-baseball slide, and he sails-

 

-right out of the ring, past Raynor, and onto the thinly-padded concrete, with an unenthusiastic “OOF!” The crowd lets out a collective sigh… Edwin grabs the announce desk and stumbles to his feet, rubbing his sore tailbone, then he ducks and narrowly misses a vicious chairshot by less than an inch! Raynor’s momentum carries him past Edwin, and the Mac Daddy quickly spins around and charges, taking Raynor from behind in a Bulldog-to-Facebuster!

 

“Midnight Special!” shouts Mark. “Midnight Special, and I think Raynor’s head may have hit the chair - can we get a replay?”

 

Edwin rolls to his knees, then up to his feet, while Raynor stays on the ground, a few inches away from the chair. Edwin’s head snaps toward the front row, where a:

 

“Let’s go Edwin!” *clap clap clapclapclap*

“Let’s go Edwin!” *clap clap clapclapclap*

 

… chant is rising up. He grins goofily at the front row patrons, then turns back to Raynor and drags him up-

 

*WHAM*

 

A hard European Uppercut sends Edwin reeling! Raynor is practically frothing at the mouth, and he quickly stoops down and grabs the chair, then stalks after his foe! Edwin is resting against the steps, until Raynor swings the chair-

 

*CLANG*

 

Edwin barely manages to dive away! Raynor totally no-sells the pain in his hands and chases Edwin, who’s practically tripping over his own feet trying to get away! Edwin slides into the ring - his foot is still hanging outside!

 

*WHOOSH*

 

*CRACK*

 

Edwin pulls it in, and the chair just hits the apron! The chair has a massive dent, but Raynor doesn’t care - he slides right in after Edwin-

 

-who jumps straight up and kicks out, delivering a PICTURE-PERFECT dropkick to Raynor-

 

*CRACK*

 

“OOOOOOOOOOOOOH!”

 

“Oh MAN!” Mark says, wincing.

 

*THUD* Edwin hits the mat.

 

“Raynor just took Edwin out in Midair with that chair! Whacked him right in his side, and Edwin just spun around like an airplane missing a wing!”

 

Edwin is doubled over on the canvas, both hands protecting his now very tender left abdomen area - he tries to straighten himself out, then sharply winces and pulls himself back in… And now Raynor raises the chair up high, and begins a victory lap around the inside of the ring.

 

ONE!

 

“The arrogance of that man is… ugh…” Mark shakes his head, trailing off.

 

TWOOOO!

 

“He’s got it all under control, Mark - this is a year’s worth of aggression, he’s not gonna screw anything up now.”

 

Raynor drops the chair and slowly heads back to Edwin, who with the help of the ropes is up to his feet… or rather, one foot. His left leg is tucked in, and he hops on his right foot while holding onto the ropes. Raynor chuckles, then moves in for the kill-

 

-Edwin suddenly springs up on his right foot and swings his left one up and around, clocking Raynor in the side of the head! Raynor ceases all movement and just freefalls to the canvas, hitting it with a violent snap of the head!

 

“Edwin tricked him!” shouts Mark, over the fans rising enthusiasm. “His leg is hurt, but it wasn’t THAT hurt!”

 

“Well it is NOW, Mark! Look!” Again, Edwin is holding his left leg-

 

ONE!

 

-as he tries to get himself back up.

 

“But he bought himself time, Riley - valuable time!”

 

Raynor’s head wobbles around a bit-

 

TWOOOOO!

 

-and he manages to lift it up, and open his eyes. Edwin has gotten up to his right knee with help from the ropes…

 

THREEEE!

 

Raynor shakes his head a few times, then stretches out for the bottom rope, while Edwin vaults up and immediately his knee caves in! He grabs the top rope with both hands and manages to stay upright, and now the count is only on Raynor!

 

FOUR!

 

Raynor digs into the canvas with his feet and inches forward, and he finally grabs the bottom rope! He begins to pull himself in when Edwin jumps and drives his right knee into the small of Raynor’s back! He drags Raynor’s arm behind him in a Hammerlock, then jerks him up to his feet, wrenching the arm back farther. Raynor’s free arm swipes back, and he grabs Edwin by the hair, and flips MacPhisto over his shoulder - but Edwin lands on his feet and runs for the ropes! MacPhisto hits the ropes and comes back-

 

-and this time the Spinning Reverse Elbow hits, and floors Edwin!

 

ONE!

 

“Man,” says Mark, “get a load of these fans - they are just roasting Raynor out there.”

 

“We’re in Canada, what did you expect?”

 

“Well, I expected this.”

 

“… shut up.”

 

TWOOO!

 

Edwin begins a quick, steady roll, and he disappears through the ropes and lands on the outside. Raynor quickly follows, stepping over the ropes and jumping down from the apron as Edwin crawls on all fours towards the guard rail. Raynor approaches, and gets a cup of ice in the face!

 

“HEY! SECURITY!”

 

Raynor is dazed for just a second, but that’s all Edwin needs - he rolls behind Raynor and chop-blocks his knee, then takes Raynor’s head and pulls it back into the guard rail, snapping his neck off it! Raynor cries out and crawls away, cover his neck, but Edwin is quick to follow up - he follows Raynor around one end of the ring and stops him in his tracks, dragging him up backwards by his hair! He slowly turns Raynor around and gives him a fierce Shoetei Uppercut-

 

“-right between the eyes!”

 

“Wouldn’t it be better to do it TO one of the eyes?”

 

“… shut up, Riley.”

 

Raynor flees again, but the steel steps cut his progress short - he bangs his knee into them and swears like a sailor, and Edwin jumps him from behind, shoulder-blocking Raynor forward back into the stairs, and the big man flips right over them, to the joy of the fans! Those at ringside reach out and pat Edwin on the back as he continues to stalk Raynor around ringside!

 

“Raynor’s running for his life!”

 

“No no no! He’s uh… trying to wear Edwin down by making HIM run! Yea, that’s it!”

 

Raynor surges forward, collapsing next to the announce table. Edwin is slow to get there, and when he does, Raynor suddenly spins around and throws a length of cable up! It hooks around Edwin’s head, and Raynor pulls it in! MacPhisto’s jerked forward, right into a boot to the face!

 

“OOH!” Mark shudders, as do most in attendance, as Edwin falls back, holding his face… Raynor staggers to his feet and drags more cable out, then walks over to Edwin and begins wrapping it around his throat!

 

“Hey - this is how he eliminated Ted Flink in that ML Last Man Standing!” notes Riley, with growing enthusiasm. “Wouldn’t it be great if he eliminates MacPhisto the same way?!”

 

Mark looks absolutely horrified at the that. “GET OUT OF THERE, EDWIN!”

 

Raynor wraps the chord around Edwin’s neck four or five times, then drags the Mac Daddy up to his feet and begins leading him around ringside - with a particularly strong pull, he sends Edwin careening into the steel steps, and Edwin’s left knee hits first! The stairs fall apart, but not before Edwin flips over them and lands on his bad leg - the fans begin booing as Raynor walks around the pile o’ stairs and begins punishing that leg some more! He picks it up off the ground and he drags Edwin up to the unprotected ramp way, pulls the leg up, and smashes the knee back down! Edwin cries out and rolls as fast he can towards the ring, cradling the knee! Raynor grabs him by the hair and drags him up, unwraps the chord, and rolls the Crown Prince back into the ring, and jumps in after him.

 

ONE!

 

Edwin continues to roll away, cradling the knee, as Raynor gets up to his feet. The ex-Carny falls back into the nearest corner, and waits…

 

TWOOO!

 

“Come on Edwin, you can’t go down this soon!” Mark shouts encouragingly.

 

THREEE!

 

Edwin gets his right knee down on the mat and shifts all weight towards it instead - he grabs the middle rope-

 

FOUUUR!

 

-and hoists himself up to his feet… or foot, whichever, getting a great ovation from the crowd! Raynor looks a little unhappy with this, and he storms across the ring and pulls Edwin out of the corner, scoops him up, and drapes his legs over the top ropes! The fans begin to boo like crazy, knowing full well what’s gonna happen next! Raynor backs away from the corner, looking, looking - Ah, there it is…

 

The chair.

 

“Oh no,” Mark winces in anticipation as Raynor grabs the chair and heads back to Edwin. Raynor lines the chair up and jams it forward into Edwin’s stomach once!

 

*WHAM*

 

TWICE!

 

*WHAM*

 

THREE TIMES!

 

*WHAM*

 

FOUR!

 

FIVE!

 

SIX!

 

SEVEN!

 

EIGHT!

 

NINE!

 

TEN TIMES!

 

Raynor moves to unhook Edwin’s legs… then stops… and grins…

 

“What’s he planning now?”

 

Raynor climbs over the ropes and jumps to the outside, still holding the chair. Edwin’s left leg sticks out in a particularly awkward fashion-

 

“Oh no…”

 

-and Raynor takes full advantage by rearing back and smashing the chair into it! The blow knocks Edwin loose, but that’s about the only good thing it did! Edwin again cries out in pain and rolls away-

 

ONE!

 

-and shows no signs of trying to get up!

 

TWOOO!

 

Raynor drops the chair and rolls back into the ring, and stands tall over Edwin…

 

THREEE!

 

“And WHO called the leg strategy Mark? Huh?” Riley jabs his partner in the ribs. “That would be… ME! Raynor aer smrt!”

 

“Aer smrt?!”

 

FOOOOUR!

 

Edwin rolls onto his stomach, and sees a shiny pair of boots…

 

… he looks up, and sees Chris Raynor standing in said boots… Raynor looks back down, smirking-

 

FIIIIVE!

 

-and Edwin turns away and makes a quick scramble for the ropes, but Raynor falls and drops his elbow in the back of Edwin’s left knee! It breaks the count, but Raynor doesn’t seem to care at this point! He cockily strolls over to Edwin’s head and picks him upright, knee to the gut, and positions himself next to Edwin and wraps his arms around the Mac Daddy’s waist.

 

“Raynor with the gut wrench-”

 

Raynor hoists Edwin up, but Edwin gets his hands free and grabs Raynor’s head as he’s sitted upright, and he drives Raynor face-first into the mat with a face buster, to a great cheer from the crowd!

 

“-and a beautiful counter buys Edwin some time!”

 

But not much time - as Edwin works his way up to his feet, Raynor is already rolling for the ropes-

 

ONE!

 

-and he bounces up to his feet, while Edwin still struggles with his problem knee…

 

TWO!

 

Raynor takes a running start for Edwin-

 

-Edwin grabs the top rope and drops down, sending Raynor flying over and out of the ring! Edwin pulls himself out of the ring after, and begins limping over to his foe! Raynor stumbles to his feet, not too sure where he even is anymore, and Edwin shoves him up against the guardrail and-

 

*SMACK*

 

“WHOOOOOOO!”

 

*SMACK*

 

“WHOOOOOOO!”

 

*SMACK*

 

“WHOOOOOOO!”

 

Unleashes a set of eye-watering knife-edge chops! He takes Raynor by the hand and leads him back to the ring, grabs Raynor’s head, and slams the back of it into the apron, hitting his neck as well! Edwin holds on, not letting Raynor leave, then smashes the Carny defector’s head against it again! Edwin pulls Raynor’s head out, then raises a fist to the audience-

 

WHOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

 

-and drives it one more time into the apron, and finally lets Raynor fall to the mats! Edwin’s face is changing - his smile is back, but it’s not a particularly pleasant one, and this is the first thing Raynor notes when he sees Edwin looming over him.

 

Oh shit.

 

Edwin takes Raynor by the scruff of his neck, and heaves him back into the ring!

 

“Man alive,” says Mark, “Edwin is showing a rarely-seen side of himself tonight!”

 

Raynor rolls twice then stops, lying on his stomach, both hands holding his neck.

 

ONE!

 

Edwin rolls in after and pops to his feet, with new energy. He dashes to the nearest corner and mounts the second turnbuckle, giving a quick pose before jumping off and putting his back to the post, waiting…

 

TWOOO!

 

THREEE!

 

Raynor kicks the mat, trying to roll himself onto his back, but isn’t having much luck yet-

 

FOOOOUR!

 

-there we go - he rolls onto his back, then leans on his side-

 

FIIIIIVE!

 

-and grabs the middle rope! He pulls himself in and up to one knee-

 

SIIIIIX!

 

-and up to his feet! A collective groan from the audience, which quickly turns to a cheer as Edwin charges from behind!

 

“He’s not gonna let up, not for one second!”

 

He piles into Raynor from behind, driving the ex-Carny chest first into the corner! Raynor stumbles backwards out, and Edwin gets back to back with him and locks arms-

 

“UNION JACK!”

 

-but Raynor quickly struggles and breaks free, falling forward into the corner again. Edwin catches his balance, then heads back to the corner-

 

-Raynor throws an elbow, but Edwin ducks and gets the offending arm around his neck! He wraps his arms around Raynor’s waist and pulls back, into a suplex! Raynor cries out and favors the neck again, as another “ED-WIN! ED-WIN!” chant begins to pick up!

 

“What’d I tell you?” Mark smarmily asks.

 

“… oh fine, the neck idea doesn’t totally suck…”

 

Raynor continues rolling this time, and he rolls all the way to the ropes and outside! He lands uncomfortably on the mats, and does his best to get to his feet, which proves fatal as once he’s up, Edwin hits the opposite ropes and comes flying back-

 

“LOOKOUT!”

 

-Edwin dives over the top rope and comes crashing down on Raynor, in a Tope Suicida!

 

“He’s insane, Stevens!” Riley shouts, over the roaring crowd. “He’s got a bad knee, and he’s doing shit like that?!”

 

“It looks like Raynor did a decent job of breaking his fall, though - and in this kind of match, you get the big hits in when you can, regardless of personal injury!”

 

Both competitors lie very still on the ground for a moment - Edwin begins to get up, obviously favoring the knee but doing remarkably well in his ability to move. Raynor, on the other hand, is flat on his stomach at the base of the ramp, holding the back of his head… Edwin is up quick like a hiccup, and he pulls Raynor up to his feet and drags him back to the second set of stairs and-

 

*CRASH*

 

“Slams Raynor’s head right into them!”

 

*CRASH*

 

“And again!”

 

*CRASH*

 

“And a-”

 

*CRASH*

 

*CRASH*

 

*CRASH*

 

*CRASH*

 

And one final I[]CRAAAAASH![/i][/i] sends the stairs toppling, and Raynor with them! He collapses over one section of the steel, and the Crown Prince’s brutality is appealing to all! Edwin takes a minute to soak it all in, then heads to Raynor for more-

 

“OOF!”

 

-as Edwin stands over him, Raynor juts his head back, cracking Edwin’s mouth with it! The Mac Daddy is forced back, and Raynor staggers to his feet and, using the guard rail, makes a mad dash… or a mad hobble… for the ramp! He reaches the base when a hand reaches his shoulder and spins him around-

 

“-and Edwin just PLASTERED Raynor with a right hand!” shouts Mark-

 

*BAM*

 

“-and Raynor gets it back!” Riley cries.

 

Edwin reels, then comes back swinging and clocks Raynor again, and Raynor takes a few steps up the ramp in retreat, then fires a second shot back at MacPhisto!

 

“Where the hell are they going?!”

 

“To paradise, Mark - at least, for the viewers - they’re going to the STAGE!”

 

Almost oblivious of the fact that they’re going anywhere, Raynor and Edwin continue to trade strong right hands, with Raynor ever so slowly losing ground, and being forced to back up the ramp! A particularly stiff punch from Edwin sends Raynor stumbling back-

 

“-the chase is on! Raynor’s hightailing it out of there!”

 

“Nonono! He’s uh, he’s wearing Edwin down by making him run!”

 

Edwin surges forward with surprising speed and he grapples Raynor from behind! The Carny defector struggles, but Edwin wraps his arms around Raynor’s waist and vaults back-

 

“Mark, tell me’s not-”

 

*WHOOSH*

 

“HOLY SHIT!”

 

-RELEASE-GERMAN SUPLEXING RAYNOR OFF THE SIDE OF THE RAMP! RAYNOR FALLS EIGHT FEET TO THE CONCRETE, DOING A COMPLETE ROTATION AND LANDING FACE-CHEST-KNEES FIRST!

 

MAC-PHIS-TO!

MAC-PHIS-TO!

MAC-PHIS-TO!

 

“Falls count in the ring only! Falls count in the ring only!” Riley keeps repeating this mantra… “Everything’s ok, falls count in the ring only.”

 

“Pardon my French, Riley, but you are FUCKING INSANE if you think Raynor’s ok! He could be DEAD, for all we know!”

 

Raynor slumps onto his side, and slowly, groggily picks his head up, and the television viewers are treated to the sickening sight of his busted up mouth - one tooth, or at least a large part of one, lies in a quickly growing puddle of blood that’s flowing from Raynor’s lips… he barely is able to open his eyes, but when he does he gets a sudden surge of adrenaline, as Edwin is slowly getting back to his feet! Raynor wills himself, tells himself, orders himself to get up, but he just doesn’t have it-

 

“-and here comes Edwin!“

 

Edwin has jumped down off the ramp, landing on his right leg and pausing to lower his left… and now he’s coming at Raynor! The Mac Daddy looks wholly transformed - a vicious sneer paints his face, and despite being a bloody pile, Raynor now gets the momentum to get his hands and feet working and begins scooting back, desperately looking for something, ANYTHING to get him out of this mess!

 

“Edwin looks like a man possessed!”

 

“Is there an exorcist in the house?!”

 

Raynor’s hand finds a pile of stacked chairs, and he topples them over in an attempt to slow Edwin down - no dice. Raynor turns onto his hands and knees and with the help of some pit-equiptment, makes it up to his feet - he turns around-

 

*WHAM*

 

-Shotei Palm Strike, right to Raynor’s bloody kisser! The ex-Carny falls back into the side of the stage, and he tries to take a step away, but a second Shotei sends him flying back! Edwin pins Raynor’s arms against the base of the stage, and for a moment, a wholly one-sided staredown occurs, as Raynor’s face registers only fear-

 

*WHUMP*

 

-and pain now, as Edwin viciously knees him in the gut! He drags the doubled-over Raynor away from the stage wall, out to the open concrete area of the pit! He goes to wrap an arm around him, but Raynor gets his right hand free and whales Edwin in the stomach! The Mac Daddy’s grip weakens, and ceases - Raynor takes him by the arm and goes for the Irish Whip-

 

“Look out!”

 

Edwin reverses, and sends Raynor hurtling into the guardrail with a spectacular *CRASH*! Raynor slowly slips to the ground, oblivious to the various slaps and kicks through the railing the fans are giving him… Edwin quickly steps over and pulls him away, and again he wraps his arm around Raynor’s head. He then backs up towards a section of lighting equipment - he jumps up and pushes his right leg off the electrical equipment, spinning around and planting Raynor head-first in a Tornado DDT on the concrete! Raynor twitches once then goes absolutely still, and somehow, some way, the crowd cheers even louder! Edwin turns his attention to the fans, thankfully now smiling, though it’s a devious one at that - he plays to the fans for a moment, then turns back to see Raynor crawling, on all fours, towards a set of stairs, leading up to the stage. Edwin starts after him, and the ex-Carny turns, sees this, and begins move faster - Raynor scrambles up the staircase, nearly tripping over his own feet, and he hits the Genesis Set - the word GENESIS is sprawled over the entire stage in large letters, with the Roman Numeral III hanging in the background, and a few stands set up with Gladiatorial Armor flanking both sides of the entranceway… Raynor quickly looks back for Edwin, then dives through the gap in the G!

 

“Oh God.”

 

“What?”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Mark swallows nervously… “That set’s made of glass…”

 

Edwin gets to the top of the stairs just in time to see Raynor disappear through the G - grinning an almost sadistic grin to himself, then he heads to the left side of the G and ventures into darkness behind the title!

 

“Where th… where’d they go, Mark?”

 

Before Stevens can answer, Raynor suddenly pops back out underneath the gap in the N, and he leans up against it’s left base - the glass is fogged, providing good, or at least good enough, cover. The fans all shout at once, trying to tell Edwin where to look, but the Mac Daddy remains unseen - Raynor cautiously slinks to his right, about to go behind the N-

 

“There he is!”

 

-when Edwin leaps out from the right side of the middle E! He sees Raynor’s back turned to him, and he makes a quick charge - the sound of feet on metal prompt Raynor to turn around, and he does so just in time to get leveled with a Spinning Reverse Elbow! Edwin jumps to his feet and roars, and the crowd loves him for it!

 

“Edwin’s got these fans eating out of his hand!”

 

“Keep crowd whoring, Edwin!” Riley shouts. “I’m begging you, you stupid sack of Brit! Just give Raynor a little more time!”

 

Raynor slowly rolls onto his stomach, spitting a sickening amount of blood out of his mouth before trying to get up to one knee… Edwin comes back around and helps him with that endeavor, dragging him up to both feet-

 

-Raynor’s arms fly up, knocking Edwin’s hands away! Raynor knees the Mac Daddy in the gut, grabs him by the hair, and goes running-

 

“Oh no, wait a min- wait, NO!”

 

-and he HEAVES EDWIN INTO THE I!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

*THUNK*

 

A collective sigh is heard all through the arena as Edwin bounces off the glass, and the letter remains in one piece - Raynor snarls and grabs Edwin by the hair again, knocking over a few sets of armor in the process, pulls his head back, and slams it into the glass again!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

*THUNK*

 

“Wow,” Riley says with interest, “we invest in some damn good glass, don’t we?”

 

Raynor growls and takes Edwin by his hair again, looking for a third shot, when Edwin fires a quick elbow into the ex-Carny’s stomach! Raynor is stunned, and a second and third elbow gets Edwin free! He drags a few feet away from the I, then hooks his arm and tights!

 

“Ohhhh boy - this is Edwin’s setup for the Union Jack! Corkscrew Brainbuster, coming up-”

 

Edwin puuuulls and gets Raynor up!

 

 

 

About a foot off the ground…

 

Raynor falls back down, and he works his arms free and grabs Edwin from behind his knees! Edwin falls back, his head crashing against the metal stage floor, and Raynor gets between MacPhisto’s legs and tightens his grip!

 

“Edwin, Edwin Edwin get out of there Edwin-”

 

“DO IT, RAYNOR!”

 

Pausing to spit another mouthful of blood off to the side, Raynor looks out at the crowd… the thousands and thousands, waving Edwin MacPhisto signs… wearing Edwin MacPhisto T-Shirts… chanting Edwin MacPhisto chants…

 

 

 

 

Edwin MacPhisto…

 

 

 

 

Edwin Mac-Goddamned-Phisto…

 

 

 

 

Fuck you, Edwin.

 

Raynor rolls back and LAUNCHES EDWIN INTO-

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

*CRAAAAASH*

 

-AND THROUGH THE I! THE TWENTY FOOT TALL TOWER SHATTERS FROM TOP TO BOTTOM, AND EDWIN IS COVERED IN THE FALLING GLASS!

 

“HO-LY SHIT! HO-LY SHIT! HO-LY SHIT!”

 

There is now a gaping hole between the S’s in the Genesis set - only the silver metal frame of the I remains, and at the bottom, like the dot on an exclamation point, lies Edwin MacPhisto, a bloody bloody mess. Raynor has collapsed right next to Edwin, touching his mouth, and grimacing at the sight of blood… he grabs the metal I frame with both hands and tries to pull himself up. He makes it to one knee, then falls back over, and lands sitting on the stage. He picks his head up, and sees Edwin covered in shards of glass…

 

… and he smiles.

 

… and he laughs.

 

“… say something, Mark!”

 

“…”

 

Raynor grabs ahold of the I again and pulls himself up to his feet, then staggers back, trying to get his balance. He stumbles into a stage light and fights a nice place to rest, and to view the carnage. Kivell has left his post in the ring and is now tearing up the ramp to check on MacPhisto…

 

“… can this match be stopped by the ref?”

 

Mark slowly shakes his head, and says “I… don’t think so…”

 

Kivell drops to his knees and begins sweeping the glass off of MacPhisto’s face-

 

-and Raynor violently shoves the ref aside! Kivell scoots across the stage, then decides he’d be better off leaving this one alone for now. Raynor stumbles through the frame and stands over Edwin’s head, and just… stares… for a moment.

 

He then grabs a handful of MacPhisto’s hair and drags him up to his feet… and he laughs again. Right in Edwin’s bloodied face. He laughs, then pulls Edwin’s head back and slams it into the Metal I frame, and lets the bloodied Mac Daddy crumple back down to the ground. Raynor’s steps out into the open area of the stage, under rapid-fire crowd abuse, and begins searching for something, anything - some tool of bloody destruction…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Helloooooo, armor.

 

“… please tell me that stuff’s made of plastic, Riley.”

 

“I don’t think it is, Mark.”

 

Raynor grabs one of the flimsy stands and after a bit of a struggle, he rips the metal-plate off of its roost, and hefts in his hands, getting a feel for the weight… it may be an inaccurate reconstruction, but it sure as hell isn’t plastic… Kivell, the insolent bastard, has dared to step forward and try to help MacPhisto up again. Raynor begins stalking forward, and Kivell dives for cover.

 

“No, Mark, that may be imitation armor, but I don’t think it’ll hurt any less…”

 

“Come on, Edwin! Get up!”

 

Edwin makes it up to one knee, and can’t see much of anything through the hair and blood in his face. He wipes it all away and looks up-

 

CRACK!

 

Edwin goes flying out of sight, behind the letters! Raynor grins, a sickening grin, then he heads after him - a few moments later he’s dragging Edwin back out onto the stage - a camera close to them catches Raynor shouting “I WANT THEM TO SEE THIS!” He releases Edwin, letting him wobble on his own two feet, then pulls the armor back and-

 

CRACK!

 

Edwin is floored again! “RAY-NOR SUCKS!” is now the battlecry being taken up around the arena, but it’s failing miserably, as Raynor refuses to be the least bit antagonized. He throws the armor down and grabs Edwin around his throat, hoists him up, and turns him around on the stage slooooowly, like displaying a trophy to the crowd. Edwin is helpless - Raynor drags him off to one side of the stage, rubbing the fans faces in it, then off to the other, doing the same.

 

“This is absolutely sick,” Mark says, with genuine concern. “I… I didn’t realize just how far gone Raynor was until just now… Jesus…”

 

Raynor pulls Edwin to the top of the ramp, lets him stand facing the audience, then he goes back and picks up the armor. He sneaks up behind Edwin, and swings the armor up as hard as he can into the back of the Mac Daddy’s head-

 

CA-FUCKING-RACK!

 

Edwin keels over, smashing his bloodied face against the ramp. Satisfied, Raynor throws the armor off the ramp and endures a hellacious amount of abuse from the fans in attendance, some of whom are being restrained by security. Raynor stands over Edwin, stands tall, stands alone at the top of the ramp, soaking it all in… he slowly drops his head to stare down at Edwin…

 

… and he spits on him.

 

“Jesus, come on!” shouts Mark, getting more upset by the second. “For a man who demands respect, Raynor is showing absolutely NONE to his opponent.”

 

Raynor flings the chair off the stage and grabs Edwin by the arm, and begins to drag him down the ramp, ignoring the torrent of crowd heat hitting him from all sides. Edwin slowly kicks his feet, trying to stop or slow Raynor, but going down the center of the ramp there’s nothing for his feet to catch.

 

“Shouldn’t this match be over already?” Riley asks, a little annoyed. “Edwin’s been down from that last chairshot for at least ten seconds.”

 

“Sorry, but the “in the ring” rule applies to the BOTH of them, Riley.”

 

Raynor takes a few moments to drag a near-limp Edwin up to his feet, then struggles to roll him into the ring, and manages to do so without getting too much blood on himself. He rolls in after MacPhisto, and now the ref begins to count…

 

 

ONE!

 

 

TWO!

 

 

THREE!

 

 

“Edwin got the exact same treatment that Raynor did a few weeks ago,” Mark gravely notes, “and Raynor wasn’t up for a while…”

 

 

FOUR!

 

 

FIVE!

 

 

Raynor is leaning back in a corner, trying to catch is breath - he stops and turns out to the crowd, mustering up as obnoxious a smirk as he possibly can…

 

SI-

 

WHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

 

“No way!”

 

“WAY, Riley - EDWIN IS UP!”

 

The Mac Daddy makes a sudden roll onto his stomach and lurches up to his knees! Raynor charges forward, but stops himself - attacking Edwin would break the count!

 

SEEEEVEEEEN!

 

Edwin rolls backwards, and coming out of the roll he grabs the top rope and yanks himself up to his feet! A bloodied, battered, and bruised Edwin MacPhisto is on his feet, and the fans are going nuts!

 

“I can’t believe it!”

 

“Neither can Raynor!”

 

Raynor makes a blind dive at Edwin and an awkward looking lockup follows, with both men putting everything they’ve got into pushing the other man back - and slowly, slowly but surely, Edwin begins to drive Raynor towards a corner! Raynor digs his feet and and tries vainly to hold off MacPhisto, but it’s not enough! Edwin drives him into the corner, and as Raynor gets his hands up to protect his face, Edwin spins and drives his heel into Raynor’s stomach! Raynor gags, and Edwin grabs him and drags him out of the corner, and delivers another stiff kick, this one driving into the side of Raynor’s neck! His left knee buckles, though, and both men fall to the mat-

 

ONE!

 

-and Kivell is more than ready to try and end this bloodbath!

 

“Damn it,” Mark cries angrily, “if only Edwin’s leg was Ok!”

 

“Oh, I’m sorry, but wasn’t the leg strategy a bad idea, Mark?”

 

“The argument was whether the neck was a GOOD idea, and so far I’d say it way.”

 

TWO!

 

Raynor chokes and coughs, that kick thoroughly knocking the fuck out of his breathing ability, while Edwin tries to crawl on the bad knee towards the ropes.

 

THREE!

 

Raynor falls on his side and makes a desperate roll, both hands massaging his tender throat…

 

FOUR!

 

Edwin lifts his left knee up and just begins to drag himself on his right, probably getting some nasty canvas-burn…

 

FIIIIIVE!

 

Edwin makes a semi-dive and he grabs the bottom rope, and pulls himself in! Raynor lifts one hand up, but after a particularly violent cough of blood, he beings it back down to his throat!

 

SIIIIIX!

 

Raynor reaches again for the ropes, and he grabs the middle one and pulls himself onto his side… Edwin has both arms up to the top rope-

 

SEEEVEEEEN!

 

-and he makes a valiant effort, and pulls himself up to his feet!

 

“YES!” Mark gives a big middle finger to being objective and pumps his fists in the air for Edwin, he hangs limply over the top rope. Raynor’s right arm now finds the top rope as well, and his left stays around his neck as he begins to pull himself up…

 

EEEEIGHT!

 

Raynor spits, then takes his left arm and sets it next to his right, on the top rope, and he puuuuulls-

 

NIII-

 

-and makes it to his feet!

 

“Edwin’s up!” shouts Mark.

 

“Raynor’s up!” shouts Riley.

 

*THUD*

 

“Wait, no he’s not.” Riley says, dejectedly, as Edwin makes a limping charge and drives a forearm into the back of Raynor’s head, dropping him to his knees! Raynor tries to crawl away but Edwin grabs him by the hair and pulls him back in - a few more forearm clubs, then picks him up and wraps an arm around Raynor’s head from above, and drives him down in a reverse DDT! Raynor grabs his neck and twitches on the mat, letting out a muffled cry of pain, as Edwin gets to his feet, running on newfound energy reserves! The fans in the PNE arena are going nuts!

 

“Edwin’s mounting a comeback!”

 

“But HOW?!” shouts Riley, confused beyond belief. “Where is he getting this?!”

 

Edwin drags Raynor up to his feet and then goes running for the ropes. Raynors arms move away from his neck as Edwin comes running back, so the Mac Daddy flings out an arm for a clothesline-

 

-almost imperceptibly quick, Raynor grabs the arm and rolls around Edwin, wrapping around his own throat! Before Edwin can counter, Raynor reaches around and grabs Edwin’s right arm and does the same!

 

“YES! YES! YES! CHOKE HIM OUT, YOU BEAUTIFUL BASTARD!”

 

“Flip him over, Edwin! Come oooon!”

 

Edwin ducks down, trying to toss Raynor over, but the ex-Carny leans back and kicks Edwin in the back of his left knee - Edwin drops, and Raynor falls with him, driving Edwin’s head into the mat, then he rolls over and begins pulling back on the arms over Edwin’s throat - his own arms!

 

“Raynor’s got the Grudge locked in! He’s gonna choke Edwin out!”

 

At the first sign of trouble, the Edwin-ites immediately starting chanting together:

 

“LET’S GO ED-WIN!” *clap clap clapclapclap*

LET’S GO ED-WIN!” *clap clap clapclapclap*

LET’S GO ED-WIN!” *clap clap clapclapclap*

 

Edwin’s eyes are on fire! He digs his right foot into the mat and pushes himself, dragging Raynor with him, over to the ropes, and he flings his leg onto the lower rope-

 

“-but that doesn’t mean SHIT!” laughs Riley. “The ref can’t make Raynor break the hold!”

 

This dawns on Edwin just as Riley says it, and now he tries to formulate a new plan, but as a camera swoops in to get the close up, through matted hair and dried blood, we see the fire in Edwin’s eyes slowly…

 

…dying…

 

He halfheartedly kicks his leg out of the ring and pulls it against the apron, trying to pull himself out, but Raynor wrenches the Mac Daddy’s arms back, and Edwin’s foot falls…

 

… his eyes flutter shut…

 

… and the crowd goes quiet…

 

Raynor leans forward and gets a good a view as he can, and he sees Edwin’s head go totally limp! He releases the hold and leaps up, arms raised and grinning like a fool!

 

ONE!

 

“I think… God, I think he might have done it, Riley!”

 

TWO!

 

The crowd silence is replaced by an unbelievable amount of booing, but they don’t register with Raynor - he’s jumping, whooping, doube-taking back to Edwin to make sure he’s down…

 

THREE!

 

“YOU SUCK!”

 

Raynor’s head snaps to ringside, where a particularly vocal member of the audience is leaning over the guard rail, flipping him off.

 

“YOU SUCK!”

 

Raynor glares… then turns back to Edwin-

 

FOUR!

 

-and drags him to the center of the ring, rolling him over onto his back. Raynor then looks back at the fan and yells-

 

FIVE!

 

“WHO SUCKS?”

 

The fan just continues to flip him off, and Raynor smirks, then moves back to standing over Edwin. Making sure not to touch him, for fear of breaking the count, Raynor stands over Edwin, one leg on either side, and he leans down…

 

SIX!

 

“I TOLD YOU I WAS BETTER, EDWIN!”

 

SEEEVEEEEN!

 

“YOU WOULDN’T LISTEN TO ME!”

 

EEEEEIGHT!

 

“ALL YOU HAD TO-”

 

RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH!

 

“OH MY GOD!” Riley and Stevens shout in unison, as the tens of thousands ROAR at the sight - Edwin kips-up, quick as lighting, and nails Raynor with the “Sound Check”!

 

“ROLL OF THE DICE NECKBREAKER!” shouts Mark, “From out of NOWHERE!”

 

“Why the FUCK won’t Edwin stay down, Mark?!”

 

ONE!

 

“Because he’s got heart, Riley… more heart than anyone in this business!”

 

TWOOOOO!

 

Raynor has been reduced to a whimpering pile - his arms cover his neck, and his feet kick the mat in frustration. Edwin holds his throat as well, but his left foot stays intelligently still…

 

THREE!

 

Raynor’s feet stand toe to the canvas, and he pushes off, inching towards the ropes with no hands at all.

 

FOUUUUR!

 

Edwin pops up to his side, leaning on one elbow while his other hand gently massages his throat…

 

FIIIIVE!

 

Edwin rolls onto his stomach and begins clawing the mat, and he slowly pulls himself forward…

 

SIIIIIX!

 

Raynor grabs the middle rope and pulls himself in, then lets go and puts his hands back to his neck!

 

“You can have an injured neck LATER, Raynor!” an agitated Riley shouts. “GET UP!”

 

Edwin puts one hand up and grabs the bottom rope…

 

SEEEEVEEEEN!

 

He pulls himself in sloooowly…

 

EEEEEIGHT!

 

“… I don’t think they’re gonna make it, Mark!”

 

Edwin grabs the middle rope, as Raynor continues to choke…

 

NIIIIIINE!

 

Edwin releases the rope, and he and Raynor simultaneously roll out under the bottom rope, breaking the in-ring only count, and getting a wild cheer from the audience!

 

“YES! You’ve still got time, Edwin!” shouts Mark, hope in his heart…

 

Raynor lands on his knees and his chin rests on the apron, with one hand holding the back of his neck… he looks across the ring, through the ropes, where Edwin has actually landing on his right foot, and is standing - er, hopping, anyways… Raynor’s eyes open full blown, and as Edwin turns to see him, his do the same… Raynor lets go of the apron and rolls into the ring, and MacPhisto does the same, slower because of his leg-

 

“-and that cost him, Raynor drops the elbow across the head of Edwin!”

 

Raynor clambers to his feet, running on nothing but disbelief and hatred now… he grabs Edwin and picks him up, then wrenches his arm. He drags MacPhisto out to the center of the ring, then jumps up and brings his right knee over Edwin’s head, lettings himself fall and drive Edwin’s head into the mat!

 

“Raynor hits the -… what was that, Mark?”

 

“That’s not part of his normal arsenal, I know THAT…”

 

Edwin rolls away-

 

ONE!

 

-wiping the blood away from his eyes…

 

TWO!

 

He rolls up to one knee, and Raynor goes absolutely nuts! He charges Edwin and drives a knee into his face, breaking the count! Edwin is knocked up and into the corner, and Raynor runs at him again, but Edwin kicks up! He catches Raynor in the jaw, and the ex-Carny is forced back. Edwin stumbles out of the corner, falling to his knees once then getting back up, and as Raynor turns around Edwin stiffs him in the stomach and pulls him in! Snarling something fierce, Edwin hooks Raynor’s arm and lifts him upright into-

 

“-a vertical Suplex- no, wait!”

 

Edwin drops Raynor and turns it into a Diamond Cutter!

 

“Osaka Street Cutter! That can’t be good for Raynor’s neck!”

 

“When did these two start using these moves?!” Riley asks, flustered. “What’s going on!”

 

Raynor’s right hand covers his neck, so his left hand and his feet-

 

ONE!

 

-propel him slowly towards the corner…

 

TWOOOOO!

 

THREEEE!

 

His free hand grabs the middle rope-

 

FOOOOUR!

 

-and he pulls himself up to his knees, so Edwin heads over from across the ring.

 

FIIIIIVE!

 

Edwin grabs Raynor by the hair and drags him up to his feet-

 

-Raynor backs up and drives his shoulder into Edwin’s gut! Edwin’s doubled over, and Raynor moves behind him and locks in a Full Nelson, then slams Edwin’s head down forward into the canvas!

 

“Bobby - that… that was a Jokers Wild!”

 

“A-WHA?!”

 

“They’re using old Carnival finishers! That Osaka Streetcutter was Roja’s “Masque of the Red Death” - That Rocker-Dropper was Sarah’s “Khamsin!” And Raynor just hit Edwin with the “Jokers Wild!”

 

The crowd is on the edge of their seat, or on their feet, but there’s not a single person right now who’s jaw hasn’t dropped right open! Edwin and Raynor are side by side, neither moving, and-

 

ONE!

 

-neither showing signs of being able to move any time soon!

 

TWOOOOO!

 

“This has got to end in a draw,” says Mark, “because these two just will not let the other win!”

 

THREEEEE!

 

A sudden chorus of cheers from the crowd, as Edwin’s left hand flutters up off the mat!

 

FOOOOOUR!

 

His head slowly lifts up…

 

FIIIIIVE!

 

Raynor’s head suddenly pops up, as if just waking up - he immediately digs on elbow underneath him and props himself up…

 

SIIIIIIX!

 

Edwin’s right arm is now feeling out the canvas - he puts his elbows down and drags himself away from Raynor, who’s other arm is now pushing himself up…

 

“Raynor’s got the clear advantage - he might be exhausted, but Edwin’s exhausted and just got the Joker’s Wild - that could do it right there!”

 

Raynor pulls his right leg in and leans back on one knee…

 

SEEEEVEEEEN!

 

He falls back on his ass, then leans back and grabs the top rope….

 

EIIIIIIGHT!

 

And he pulls himself up-

 

To be continued...

[Guest BA_Baracus]

RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH!

 

-and looks up to see Edwin has gotten to his knees!

 

“No…” says Riley. “I don’t believe it… there’s no way…”

 

Edwin shies from the ropes, instead planting his hands on the ground and getting up on his right leg-

 

NIIIIIINE!

 

With a final spring, he jumps up to his foot and promptly falls back over, but it’s enough! Raynor lets out an aggravated “FUCK!”, then hobbles over to MacPhisto. He drags the Crown Prince up to his feet by the hair, and he slaps him!

 

“STAY THE FUCK DOWN!”

 

Raynor pulls his arm back and clubs Edwin across the face with a forearm.

 

“STAY DOWN!”

 

He takes Edwin’s head-

 

-Edwin violently kicks Raynor in the gut and pulls him in - then raises his right arm and circles it over his head, calling for-

 

“The WALKOFF?!” Riley is aghast.

 

“YES! GO AHEAD EDWIN, YOU’VE GOT MY BLESSING!” Mark responds, giving a thumbs up. Edwin turns to see Mark’s approval, then he underhooks Raynor’s arms, standing head scissors, jumps up and PLANTS Raynor face-first into the mat! The fans go absolutely out of their minds, even starting a “STE-VENS! STE-VENS!” chant that quickly sweeps across the whole arena! Edwin rolls away to his knees, exhaustion finally setting in, as Raynor lies on his stomach, no signs of movement at all…

 

 

ONE!

 

 

TWO!

 

 

Edwin grabs the ropes and manages to pull himself up to his feet - he stumbles to the nearest corner and takes a well earned rest.

 

 

THREE!

 

 

“I don’t mean to sound conceited,” says Mark, a little cautiously, “but I don’t think Raynor can pull another comeback from this one…”

 

“Oh ho ho!” scoffs Riley. “Feeling a little heelish today, are we? My finisher’s sooooo great!”

 

 

FOUR!

 

 

“Go to hell, Riley - I’m not trying to inflate my ego, I’m serious!”

 

 

FIVE!

 

 

“There is no way that Raynor ca-”

 

 

 

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

 

 

 

The entire arena shuts up - even the referee stops his count at mid-six, and stares down…

 

… as Raynor pounds his fists into the mat, and he begins to push himself up!

 

Riley and Mark both let off a totally stunned “No… way…”

 

Even Edwin himself has his jaw drooping open, as Raynor pounds his fists out in front of him, and draaaaaaaaags himself closer to the ropes, ever so slowly!

 

SEVEN!

 

Mark suddenly snaps out of his disbelief, and shouts “And Raynor‘s gotta race the count!”

 

“GET UP RAYNOR! COME O-”

 

“Stop screaming!” Mark shrieks.

 

EEEEEIGHT!

 

Raynor desperately reaches up, and grabs ahold of the middle rope! He crooks his elbow around it and pulls himself into the ropes, then takes the top rope with his free hand and pulls himself-

 

NIIIIIINE!

 

-up to one knee! Everyone still in a seat is on the edge of it, as Raynor’s face furrows up, he grits his teeth, clenches his fists tight-

 

TEEEE-

 

-and he gives the ropes one final pull, bringing himself up to his feet! A totally unexpected respect pop rings out in the PNE arena! Edwin can’t believe it - he’s now in the exact same position was in - he angrily stalks over to Raynor and drags him up -

 

“STAY DOWN!”

 

- and he blasts Raynor with a backhand across the face! Raynor is spun around from the impact, and Edwin stands back to back with him and hooks his arms!

 

“UNION JACK!” shouts Mark, over the elated crowd. “If Edwin hits this, Raynor IS NOT getting up, I guarentee it!”

 

Edwin gets his hands under Raynor’s armpits and hoists him up, then spins around and takes a running step forward-

 

-and falls flat on his face! Raynor had his leg wrapped around Edwin’s, and he pulled it out from under him! Edwin falls to the canvas and has a two hundred and fifty pound man crash back down on top of him! Both men begin to slowly roll away-

 

ONE!

 

“And that was a beautiful counter! Admit it, Mark!”

 

“I’d be happy to, that was genius - this match can still go either way!”

 

TWOOO!

 

Raynor and Edwin reach the ropes on the opposite end of the ring, and collapse.

 

THREE!

 

FOUUUUUUR!

 

“Neither of them is movi- wait, Raynor’s getting up!”

 

Raynor grabs the middle rope and pulls himself out of the ring! He lands on his hands and knees, and without hesitating for a second he staggers up to his feet and heads back to the stack of chairs! In the ring-

 

FIIIIIVE!

 

Edwin has a hold of the top rope, and is pulling in vain, but not able to get his feet planted on the canvas!

 

SIIIIIIX!

 

Raynor knocks the stack of chairs over and grabs the nearest one, then heads back for the ring, actually falling back down to his knees for a moment, unable to go one… He sucks it up and gets back to his feet-

 

SEEEEVEN!

 

-and he rolls into the ring. Edwin is still fighting, now up to one knee-

 

EEEEIGHT!

 

Raynor holds the chair out in front of him and makes right for Edwin-

 

-who springs up with the help of the top rope, and he kicks his right foot forward, DRIVING THE CHAIR BACK INTO RAYNOR’S FACE! Raynor drops the chair, and stands perfectly still for a few seconds…

 

… then slowly teeters backwards, backwards-

 

“TIIIIIMBERRRRR!”

 

-and falls flat on his back, in the center of the ring! Edwin gets to his feet and falls into the ropes, those being the only things that can keep him up right now…

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

THREE-

 

No.

 

Edwin stumbles across the ring to Raynor and falls down to his knees next to him. He grabs Raynor by the head, with both hands, and-

 

FOOOOUR!

 

-tries to pull him back up - Raynor unwittingly tries to stand himself, making Edwin’s job easier-

 

FIIIIVE!

 

-Raynor slowly gets to his feet, and once upright, he falls back again-

 

-no, Edwin grabs his arm and pulls him in! MacPhisto’s face twists up with a look of rage, and he violently kicks up into Raynor’s stomach, doubling him over! Edwin takes a moment to look out at the fans, but their cheers don’t register…

 

It’s over. Fuck all.

 

Right now.

 

…his head snaps down, eyes fixed on Raynor, and the motions flow fluidly, instinctively, honesetly… he locks in a standing head scissors, then underhooks his arms…Edwin pulls Raynor up with the double-underhook, up so Raynor’s legs lie over the Mac Daddy’s shoulders. Then Edwin places each of his arms underneath Raynor’s elbows-

 

“Oh my God…”

 

“Mark, no… no, tell me’s not-”

 

From here, Edwin braces himself…

 

THEN THROWS EVERYTHING HE’S GOT FORWARD AND SITS OUT, SLAMMING RAYNOR’S UNPROTECTED HEAD AND NECK INTO THE STEEL CHAIR!

 

A huge roar from the crowd-

 

-followed by… silence?

 

“THE DEMONSTAR DRIVER!” shouts Mark at the top of his lungs. “EDWIN JUST PLANTED RAYNOR WITH THE DEMONSTAR DRIVER ALPHA - ONTO A CHAIR!”

 

“But look!” Riley gasps, dripping with hope, “Edwin’s down too! He collapsed right after it!”

 

Raynor’s neck is bent in a sickeningly unnatural way as he lies folded over for a moment, then tips over onto his side and rolls onto his back - the crowd is stunned, sort of cheering but also somewhat confused, maybe concerned…

 

And in the center of the ring, Raynor lies perfectly still.

 

 

 

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

“And the count is on!” Mark cries as the crowd gets renewed interest - Edwin has collapsed to the mat as well, having just exerted everything he had for the move!

 

“Fuck the count, Stevens, what the HELL is Edwin doing using the Demonstar Driver?!”

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

 

THREE!

 

 

 

 

 

Edwin begins a desperate bid for the ropes now, rolling over onto his side and flailing carelessly out for the ropes!

 

And in the center of the ring, Raynor lies perfectly still.

 

 

 

 

 

FOUR!

 

 

 

 

 

“Damn it, Raynor, get up! He‘s not moving, Mark!”

 

“No shit, Sherlock!” shouts Mark, still a little stunned at what he’s just seen. “I don’t blame him for not moving, considering the move he just took - but can Edwin get back to his feet?!”

 

“What happens if they both can’t answer it?” Bobby asks, getting frantic. “Does it go on?”

 

“Chances are it’s a draw.”

 

 

…

 

 

Riley leaps up from his seat and screams “GET UP RAYNOR!”

 

 

 

 

 

FIVE!

 

 

 

 

 

Edwin gets a slow but steady roll going, and he reaches the ropes, garnering a light cheer from the fans, who are starting to get back into this. His hands rise up, feeling around…

 

…And in the center of the ring, Raynor lies perfectly still.

 

 

 

 

SIX!

 

 

 

 

 

SEVEN!

 

 

 

 

 

A halfhearted “ED-WIN! ED-WIN!” chant begins to slowly rise up from the back of the arena, as Edwin manages to grab ahold of the top rope from lying on his back, and he puuuuulls-

 

-and loses his grip, falling back to the canvas with an uncomfortable *THUD*!

 

 

 

 

 

And in the center of the ring, Raynor lies perfectly still.

 

 

 

 

 

EIGHT!

 

 

 

 

 

“Edwin’s got the ropes, but I don’t know if he can make it up in time, and Raynor’s… Raynor‘s just out of it! This match is Edwin‘s for the taking!”

 

Edwin swipes up and grabs the top rope again, this time pulling himself forward up onto one knee…

 

 

 

 

 

 

NINE!

 

 

 

 

 

…

 

 

 

 

 

…

 

 

 

 

 

…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

As the referee’s hand falls for ten, Edwin lifts himself up to his feet, saving himself before collapsing right back down to the canvas.

 

And in the center of the ring…

 

… Raynor lies perfectly still.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Ten.

 

*DING DING DING*

 

“Edwin wins! Edwin wins!” shouts Mark. “And would you listen to the crowd!”

 

The crowd goes absolutely BALLISTIC! “Battleflag” funks its way on out, but it’s totally drowned out by the fans, not one of whom is sitting! Riley’s face turns absolutely beet red as the referee walks over to MacPhisto and tries to help him up… Funyon springs into the ring and up to his feet, not even trying to hide his enthusiasm!

 

“The winner of this bout… EDWIIIIIIIIN MAAACPHIIIIISTOOOOO!”

 

-and he raises Edwin’s hand in victory, then gets dragged down as Edwin falls over again!

 

“I can’t believe what we’ve just seen, Bobby!” cries Mark, unable to force his smile away. “That was - that had to be the most brutal Last Man Standing I’ve ever seen-”

 

“… Mark?”

 

“-and I don’t understand how either of them was able to take so much punishment!”

 

“Mark… hey, Mark…”

 

“All the chair shots, the stair shots - My Walk-off, even! I just don’t ge-”

 

“MARK!”

 

“WHAT?!”

 

 

 

 

…

 

 

 

 

 

“Raynor’s not moving.”

 

“Of course he’s not,” says Mark, “would you be moving after a move like that- after a MATCH like that?”

 

“No Mark, listen to me! Raynor’s not moving .”

 

The celebration continues as the secondary referee slides into the ring and, along with Kivell, helps Edwin get up to his feet - no easy task! Edwin hangs on to them for dear life, unintentionally getting them bloodied, and all the while teetering back and forth…

 

And in the center of the ring, Raynor lies perfectly still.

 

“Oh God… he’s not moving… You’re right, Bobby, he’s not moving… can we… is someone coming out here?”

 

The two referees deposit Edwin in a corner, putting him face-towards the crowd. His face is still sticky with blood, his ears are ringing, and he can barely open his eyes… until he hears the roar of the fans… he slowly lifts his head up, aches and pains be damned, and opens his eyes to the see the tens of thousands on their feet for him! He puts his hands on the top rope and steadies himself-

 

-behind him, the referees are exchanging hand shakes and smiles, then as Kivell starts to leave, he stumbles over Raynor’s leg. He turns and looks down…

 

Raynor lies perfectly still.

 

The crowd is starting to get a little quieter, as Kivell frantically pounds his arms across his chest in an X symbol - he touches his earpiece for a moment, standing still, then he flashes the X a few more times then drops down and kneels by Raynor.

 

Edwin has managed to climb up to the bottom turnbuckle, attempting the long and dangerous climb up to the second…but he can’t climb anymore. Weak and drained, he slides down, slumping, sitting the corner…and he looks back towards Raynor, lying limply in the center of the ring.

 

Edwin regards him for a moment, his head cocked slightly. Edwin blinks. And Edwin, coughing and sputtering, slides under the ropes.

 

Edwin leaves.

 

“Hello?” Mark begins tapping his headset. “Can we get someone out here? Where’s Edwin going? I don’t think… I don’t think Raynor’s OK…”

 

“… maybe he’s just out cold,” Riley suggests, with hope in his voice.

 

Kivell leaps to his feet, and angrily flashes the X again - this is taking too long, is what he’s thinking - and finally a duo of paramedics run down the ramp and slide into the ring next to Raynor. One of them begins talking to him, waving his hand in front of Raynor’s eyes, while the other looks him over quickly. A cameraman brushes past Edwin on his way into the ring and gets the upclose shot, and the microphone manages to catch some bits…

 

“…-an you move?”

 

Raynor gasps from a sudden stinging pain, then mouths “No.”

 

“What’s wrong?” the paramedic asks, as he tries to keep Raynor awake.

 

“Can’t move… can’t…”

 

The second paramedic leaps to his feet and begins snapping into a walkie-talkie, then drops back down and slooooowly tries to lift Raynor’s head - a scream from Raynor, and he gently stops.

 

All the while, Edwin plods up the ramp. Weakly. Bloodied. His back to the rang, his face stiff and unreadable, blinking, aching eyes locked on the entrance curtain. The fans are quiet.

 

“Bobby, hold down the fort, I’m going in there.” Mark slides his headset off and heads out around ringside - one of the paramedics cuts him off at the ropes, not allowing him in, and the two begin to argue.

 

“Uh, I…” Riley stammers, trying to find the words. “I’m not sure what’s happening folks, but it looks like Raynor’s been injured somehow, and… oh thank God, finally…”

 

A second team of EMT’s come out from behind the curtain, wheeling a gurney down the ramp. The park it outside the ring, and Kivell, Mark, Bobby… everyone… grimaces at the sight…

 

… of a neck brace, lying on top of the stretcher.

 

“Oh no…”

 

Edwin looks up at the Smarktron and sees the hustle and bustle. He pauses, halfway up the ramp.

 

Battered, beaten, and pushed to the edge…he starts to walk again.

 

The paramedics slide into the ring and pull everybody back -- Stevens, the referees, everyone out of the way, then two head back out and man the gurney. The other two take Raynor by the arms and legs, and as gently as possible, lift him up off the mat and begin carrying him towards the stretcher. Mark dejectedly hops off the apron, and walks the long walk back to the announce table, accompanied by the total silence of the fans in attendance.

 

“What’s happening, Mark?”

 

“… they think… they think it’s a neck fracture…”

 

A few SWF officials come jogging down the ramp, and stop at the gurney as Raynor is being put through the ropes, and carefully lowered onto it. One of the paramedics lifts Raynor’s head up, through screaming protests, just enough to slide the back of the neck brace underneath it. Raynor’s head is laid gently back down, and the brace is attached, then he himself is strapped to the gurney.

 

Edwin continues to stride up the ramp. ¾ of the way now.

 

“Edwin is…I don’t know,” says Mark sympathetically. “I don’t think he…I don’t see anything behind his eyes…no, I don’t think anyone wanted it to end like this…”

 

The EMT’s roll the gurney around and point it toward the ramp, and a cloud of officials and medics surround Raynor as he’s wheeled up towards the backstage area as quickly as possible.

 

“Battleflag” has long since faded out, and the fans begin to murmur, trying to fill a very uncomfortable silence. Edwin again pauses, hands on his knees, breathing heavily…he looks up to the Smarktron once more. To the scene in the ring, to the face of Mark Stevens on the screen.

 

Edwin blinks. Slowly, Edwin nods.

 

Then, back up the ramp.

 

Without looking back once, Edwin quickens his pace and swipes the curtain aside, to be seen no more… Everyone is left in an awkward moment, a moment that just won’t end… for a while, even Riley and Stevens are speechless. The ring personnel get around to cleaning up ringside - getting the chair out of the way, straightening out the ring apron… one of them grabs a mop and begins scrubbing away at a small pool of blood - whose, they don’t know…

 

“Folks, I-” Mark pauses, touching his headset and listening… “I’m not sure yet - we’re not sure yet what’s wrong, but we’re going to… oh thank God, they’ve got an ambulance waiting - we’re going to try to keep you updated on this turn of events… this…” Mark sighs again, and Riley nods in solemn agreement.

 

“But…” Mark begins, after a deep breath… “But the show must go on… We’ll try to get more information on Raynor’s condition, but… but right now, we’ve still got two titles to be decided - amongst who, we still don’t know…” Mark suppresses his concern and slowly gets back into shill mode: “… and Thoth and Silent still have a year-long score to settle, inside the Hell in a Cell…” He shuffles his papers, a little lost - here we go.

 

“Next up, Perfect Bo, the newly crowned Intercontinental-Television Champion faces a mystery opponent - and I’ve heard a lot of things, Riley…”

 

Riley snaps to attention… swallows his concern as well… Mark nods.

 

“… and some of the names flying around could spell real trouble for Bo.”

 

“Hardly!” Riley cries, a little overenthusiastically. “He’s the champ for a reason - he’s that f’n good, Mark - Mystery opponent be damned, I say Bo walks out with the belt tonight.”

 

“We’ll see, Riley… we’ll see…”

[Guest BA_Baracus]

"Open Your Eyes" by Goldfinger blares in the background as the camera pans the arena, full of excited Canadian fans. The camera catches Wrestling Timez head reporter Brian Hennessey sitting in the front row holding a sign that says "-*****," with one that says "This Is Workrate" sitting unused next to him. Other fans are shown holding signs such as "I Mark For Mystery Men," "Welcome Back Suicide King" and "It's Not Suicide King, Dammit. Christ, You People Are Gullible." Mark Stevens chuckles to himself as the camera pans over to the SmarkTron, which shows the ICTV Title graphic below photos of Perfect Bo on the left and "The Superior One" Tom Flesher on the right. Finally, the camera pans back to the announce table, where "Grand Slam" Mark Stevens sits in his standard pay-per-view attire, a tuxedo with a baseball-print bow tie and cummerbund, next to Bobby Riley in HIS pay-per-view suit, a powder-blue ruffled tux. Riley is feverishly working with a Mr. Coffee.

 

"Bobby," asks Mark, "do you really need to do that?"

 

"Dammit, it's a good thing I was thinking about inviting Flesher down to the announce table to guest-commentate. Otherwise I wouldn't have remembered to make his coffee for him."

 

"Do you really think he's going to use the coffee mist on Bo?"

 

Riley cocks an eyebrow. "Coffee mist? What the hell are you talking about? I just know he likes to have a cup in the middle of a match sometime. Keeps him going, it does."

 

"I'd ask how you can deny Flesher's cheating, but you'd just chalk it up to your monitor going out."

 

"Yeah. Quite a coincidence how that always happens, isn't it?"

 

"In any event, fans, we've had an amazing card, including defenses of the Hardcore, US and Tag Team titles."

 

"Hell of a match, that tag match was. I thought Frost was going to murder Ash."

 

"The right team won, though, wouldn't you say?"

 

"*ahem* That's for Mr. Hennessey over there to decide, not me."

 

Stevens sighs. "We've got a real barnburner coming up next. Chris Wilson revealed at the top of the show that his mystery man, the new leader of the Magnificent Seven, is 'The Superior One' Tom Flesher, who's getting Wilson's rematch after Bo beat both Chris and Longdogger Pete in Miami Mayhem III. Wilson's obviously decided to move on, and he's passing the torch to a young up-and-comer."

 

"Oh boy, is he! I can't wait to see what he's gonna do to Bo!"

 

"Bo is certainly not going to be easy to take out, Bobby. He's not only 70 pounds heavier than Tom, he's got a considerable experience advantage, too. Plus, he's strong, and he's dangerous. Bo's not the type of guy you want to play around with, and that, my friends, is a damn promise."

 

"I'll throw a fiver on it."

 

"Make it a tenner and you've got a deal. Let's go to the ring."

 

Funyon stands in the ring in his red sequined tuxedo, looking dapper and putting the entire locker room to shame. "The following contest is scheduled for one fall, and it is for the ICTV Championship!" The fans pop, ready to see stiff, neck-breaking action. Immediately, the lights go down, and the intro to the Philosopher Kings' "I Am The Man" starts to tease the arena. The columns of blue fireworks shoot out next to the entrance, and as the vocals start, they give way to a blue explosion that rocks the arena. When the smoke clears, a confident Tom Flesher stands in his usual "Thinking I'm Great" pose on the stage. After a moment or two, he falls out of the pose and begins to strut down the entrance ramp. He plays to the fans a bit as he strides to the ring, his Light Heavyweight belt wrapped around his waist. When he gets to the ring, he poses in the center, removing his belt and slinging it over his shoulder while Funyon removes an index card from his pocket.

 

"Ladies and gentlemen," says the announcer, "The man standing in the ring is one of Brian Henness-"

 

Suddenyly, the lights dim and the SmarkTron fires up, interrupting Funyon. Flesher looks up angrily, only to see...

 

"I will not fall."

 

Pop.

 

"I will stand tall."

 

Cheers.

 

"Ya all are underneath me."

 

The fans burst into cheers as an explosion rocks in front of the stage.

 

"I come from the home of 9/11, the place of two lost towers... regardless of that, we never lose power." A second explosion hits the arena, and "New York City" by Cam'ron and Jay-Z starts to blare. When the smoke clears, Bo stands on the stage, his head lowered to the ground. Flesher looks at Funyon and shoves him, demanding that he finish the long, self-serving speech Tom had cooked up especially for this match.

 

"His opponent... Living in the Bronx, and weighing in at 285 pounds... he's the ICTV Champion, a member of Creative Control... PERFECT BO!"

 

Bo looks up, not used to being cheered, bbut he doesn't give a damn either way. He runs down the ramp and slides into the ring. Referee Mark Hebner holds Flesher back from ambushing the ICTV Champion as Bo jumps on the nearest turnbuckle. As usual, he surveys the crowd, lowers his head and raises his balled-up fist into the air. After a decidedly mixed reaction, he climbs down, then unstraps the ICTV belt and hands it to Hebner. Flesher kisses his Light Heavyweight belt and sets it in the corner as Hebner holds the ICTV strap in the air, then calls for the bell.

 

 

DING DING DING!!!!!

 

 

Flesher stomps across the ring and stands toe-to-toe with Bo as best he can. "What the hell is Flesher doing?" asks Mark Stevens. "Bo's seven inches taller than him! And look at the size difference! Bo's an absolute giant, a total musclehead... and Flesher's a stocky lightweight! Is he NUTS?"

 

Flesher shoves Bo backwards, shouting angrily about the interruption. "Well, christ, Mark, Bo shouldn't have interrupted the reading of the Index Card Of Superiority. I mean, there are people who paid the whole price of admission just to hear that!"

 

"Name one."

 

"Me."

 

"You're an announcer!"

 

"I bought a ticket in case NTD punks me out again."

 

Bo doesn't move. Flesher leans back and shoves him again, but New York City's SWF representative still doesn't move. Angry and frustrated that he can't get Bo to move, Flesher reaches up and unloads an open-handed, full-swing bitchslap across Bo's face!

 

SMACK!!!!!!!

 

"Bobby, did he just do that?"

 

Riley gulps. "I think he did."

 

Bo's eyes widen. If you look hard, you can actually SEE the flames in them, he's so pissed off. Flesher doesn't look hard enough, though, so he backs away, winds up, and....

 

SMACK!!!!!!!!!!

 

Mark Stevens mutters, "Oh sweet jesus" as Flesher shouts, "WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING, INTERRUPTING MY ENTRANCE LIKE THAT?" Bo shakes his head once more to be sure he's hearing what he is, and..

 

SMACK!!!!!!!!!

 

"Flesher just doesn't seem to get it," says Grand Slam.

 

"Crap!" (And that's exactly what Riley does.)

 

In disbelief, but mostly blind rage, Bo grabs Flesher by his neck and lifts him into the air, then slaps him so hard that he nearly does a Linda Blair impression. "What the fuck you think you're doing?" Bo slams his fist into Flesher's face. "You think you can just pull that shit with me?" He stiffs Flesher again. "Come on, boy, fight back, you little bitch."

 

"Bo's handing Flesher his sack on a silver platter!"

 

"Mark, how can you think about sack at a time like this? Flesher's in trouble!"

 

The fans cheer as Bo unloads one final blow on Flesher. Tom staggers into the corner, desperately trying to get Bo off his case. He finally does, shielding his face as he clings to the ropes. Mark Hebner ushers Bo away from the corner, and when Flesher realizes he's safe, he lets go and cracks his neck before coming out of the corner. Bo watches Flesher, eyes still aflame, as he stretches out, then steps back toward the center. As soon as Hebner lets him go, Bo charges at Flesher and tries to knock his head off. Flesher backs away, once again shielding his face and grabbing the ropes. Bo rains blows down on Flesher's guard as Hebner tries to restrain him and the Superior One yells, "MY FACE! MY VALUABLE FACE! STOP IT! CHRIST!" Finally, Hebner manages to back Bo out, giving Flesher room to open up, reach right over the official's head, and...

 

SMACK!!!!!!!!!!

 

Flesher smirks at Bo, who tries desperately to restrain himself just so he can get his hands on Flesher once and for all. He backs slowly into the centre, his gaze never wavering from his opponent.

 

"Bo realizes he's going to have to calm down," says Stevens, "or else Flesher's going to get the best of him."

 

"Dammit," says Riley. "I was hoping he wouldn't figure it out."

 

"Bo's a lot more up on things than you give him credit for, Bobby."

 

"Oh, bullshit. He can barely work a zipper."

 

With Bo waiting in the center, Flesher slowly angles toward him, looking very much like he's in over his head. Staying back in his amateur stance, he tries to circle around Bo. The New York City resident simply grabs Flesher by the shirt and pulls him into a grapple. He throws a vicious right hand, sending Flesher staggering backwards. Bo follows Tom to the ropes, rocking him with punch after punch, and then whips him to the opposite side. As he rebounds, Bo drops down to go for a drop toehold. Flesher quickly stops his motion, then jumps up and hits Bo in the small of the back with Doc Marten double stomp! Bo instinctively grabs his back, and Flesher takes a moment to play to the crowd.

 

"Flesher uses his ring awareness to his advantage," notes Stevens as Flesher struts around the ring, then jumps up and nails another double stomp to Bo's back.

 

"Well yeah. He's got superior ring awareness, and he's damn good looking, too," says Riley, while the fans shower Flesher with boos.

 

Tom drops down onto Bo and grabs his left leg. Adeptly, he applies a half crab hold and sits down onto Bo's back. Bo, though, sees it coming and prevents the full application of the hold by cocking his free right leg and booting his opponent in the back to force him away. Tom staggers forward and releases ths left leg, shrugging and working the crowd with an "I meant to do that" motion. Bo rolls over and, with a slight strain on his back, gets to his feet.

 

Tom finishes working the crowd by arrogantly dusting off his hands, then turns around to face Bo...

 

AND WALKS RIGHT INTO A CLOTHESLINE! "Dear God, Bobby, Bo nearly took his head off with that LARIATOOOO!!!"

 

Flesher collapses to the mat, and Bo covers him for

 

ONE!

 

 

but no more, as Flesher kicks out and rolls to his stomach. Bo swings out and grabs Flesher in a front facelock, then stands up and uses his significant strength advantage to yanks Flesher to his feet and wrench his neck in the process. The New York City representative starts the motion for a swinging neckbreaker, but Flesher grapevines his leg to stop the motion and then clamps down on Bo's arm to keep him from finishing the hold. Flesher yanks the arm out and throws it by to set up a single leg takedown, but when he drops to his knees, Bo slams his boot into The Superior One's chest! "Well, that certainly stopped that," says Stevens as Bo throws another boot directly into Flesher's sternum, then locks on another front facelock. With authority, he pulls Flesher up to his feet, then very slowly twists around. With Flesher up in hangman position, Bo sits down, snapping Flesher's neck against his shoulder. Flesher grabs his head and Bo covers him for

 

ONE!

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

KICKOUT!

 

"Hey Mark, if Bo's so smart, why's he concentrating on Flesher's neck?"

 

"Probably because it's so much easier to knock out a mat wrestler than make him submit, but Bo's also at a considerable strength advantage. Basically, he can do whatever he wants."

 

"Yeah, but Flesher's neck is a good 18 inches around. How do you expect to break that?"

 

"Looks like he's doing a fine job on his own, Bobby."

 

Flesher gets up and stumbles around briefly before Bo grabs him from behind and pulls him back into a clothesline to the head.

 

"Enzuilariato from Bo..."

 

"Huh? Speak up, junior, I never took Spanish."

 

Flesher falls forward and leans on the ropes, slumped over and only "standing" by virtue of having his shoulders hooked over the top rope. Bo grabs him from behind, but surprisingly, Flesher fights back with a series of elbows to the gut. He manages to get Bo to back off, then makes a quarter turn and lands a shotei to the jaw! Bo, more stunned than anthing, backs away and shakes his head to try to regain his senses. Flesher, operating on instinct, steps forward and nails another stiff shotei to Bo's chin. Bo teeters, but won't fall. "Come on, Tom," shouts Riley. "Knock that jackhole on his ass!"

 

"Would you at least PRETEND to be impartial?"

 

"Sorry, Mark, but I just can't hide my feelings anymore."

 

Mark's jaw drops. "You mean, you're finally ready to admit...?"

 

"Yup. I really, really like Flesher's... shirt. That's an extremely nice shirt, and the style points are just too much to root against."

 

"How about his apartment?"

 

"Yeah, I like that too, but that's just because I helped him decorate it."

 

"Bobby Riley: Interior Decorator," chuckles Stevens.

 

After a moment, Flesher throws a third palm strike, but Bo manages to block it. He takes full advantage of the block by following it up with a knee to Flesher's stomach. When the Light Heavyweight Champion doubles over, Bo locks his hands around his waist, lifts him up and sends him crashing to the mat with a tilt-a-whirl slam! He covers for

 

ONE!

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

NO!!!!!!! "After a short flurry from Tom, Bo takes over once more and gets a near fall with a ridiculously hard tilt-a-whirl slam, and it's not looking good for Flesher."

 

"What do you mean? It always looks good for Flesher, at least from where I sit."

 

"I admire his wrestling ability as much as you do, Bobby, but..."

 

Bo drops an elbow into Flesher's chest, then covers him again.

 

ONE!

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

THR- NO! Somehow, Flesher manages to kick out! He rolls away ad bails to the floor, in a vain attempt to escape the beating. Mark Hebner administers the standard ten-count.

 

ONE! Flesher shakes his head, trying to regain his mindset. "It looks like Bo's got his feathers ruffled, to say the least," says Stevens.

 

TWO! He begins slowly pacing from ringpost to ringpost, looking really pissed-off.

 

THREE! In the ring, Bo is yelling angrily at Hebner to order Flesher back into the ring.

 

FOUR! "Come on, muthafucka! Let me beat him like a real man!"

 

FIVE! Flesher hears that and looks up, incredulous that Bo would even SAY such a thing.

 

SIX! "Mark, why would Bo even SAY such a thing?!"

 

Flesher rolls back into the ring, a determined look on his face. He stomps up to Bo, looks him directly in the eye, swings his hand back.....

 

and boots the ICTV Champion stiffly in the left knee! Faked out, Bo moves to grab Flesher, but Flesher slides out of the way before landing another kick to Bo's knee. Bo chases him down, but once again, Flesher evades getting caught in Bo's grasp and kicks him in the side of the knee before jumping and landing a dropkick to the kneecap that causes Bo to collapse to the mat. Flesher bounds back to his feet and then quickly drops a diving headbutt into Bo's chest. Kivell counts

 

ONE!

 

 

NO! Bo kicks out and rolls over, but Flesher grabs him with a loose crossface first. Moving quickly, he reverses it into a dragon sleeper and tries to lean back for the Superior Stretch Beta, but Bo frantically grabs the wrist and peels off the dragon sleeper as quickly as he can. Flesher tries to fight back, but he just can't keep the hold applied. Bo ends up controlling Flesher's arm and uses it to spin out and end up standing. He executes a nice old-school arm drag and twist, then yanks the wrenched arm for a short-arm knee smash to the stomach! The impact is so hard that Flesher actually flips over and lands on his back next to the ropes. Bo sees the proximity to the sidelines and declines to go for a cover. Flesher pulls himself to his feet using the ropes, and as soon as he sees Bo making about grab for him, he throws a desperation palm strike that catches Bo in the Adams-apple. The ICTV Champion, caught by surprise, staggers backwards, leaving him open for Flesher to grab him by the arm, plant his feet and whip him to the ropes. As Bo rebounds, Flesher runs to the opposite ropes and, bouncing off, charges at his adversary. He throws his boot up and nails Bo with a Yakuza kick that doesn't quite reach Bo's face because of the significant height difference. With a lug-sole now embedded in his chest, Bo steps backwards, but still won't fall. Flesher throws a pair of palm strikes that catch Bo on the side of the neck, but is unsuccessful in taking his rival to the mat. Changing methods of attack, Flesher drops to the mat and executes a textbook single-leg takedown. Bo crashes to the mat, and Flesher pulls the leg through to lock up his single-leg crab. He elevates Bo's leg as best he can, but he's not able to get the high angle he usually can.

 

"Bo's giving Flesher a lot of trouble," says Stevens, "not only because of his strength and ring ability but also because of his size. Flesher's been wrestling lightweights, and he's used to being able to just pick them up and throw them around like rag dolls."

 

"Hey now, throwing ragdolls around isn't easy."

 

"You have to wonder how Flesher's limited offense will work against a big man he can't suplex very easily," says Stevens by way of ignoring Riley.

 

"I mean, they're not aerodynamic at all. They just sort of flop around, and it's actually a very messy situation to be in."

 

Thinking better of the situation, Flesher yanks Bo's leg up as high as he can, then spins around and falls forward in a stepover toehold. On his way down, he cinches a crossface and secures the STF! "Bo was expecting to simply power out of a half crab," says Stevens. "He has to rethink his strategy and counter out of the STF now, which isn't easy."

 

"Yeah... it doesn't help that Flesher's folding his neck like one of those faggot little paper swans."

 

"Bobby, did you just use an anti-gay slur?"

 

"Huh?"

 

"Never mind. I know you've got no self-esteem anyway."

 

True to Riley's word, though, Flesher is putting extra pressure on Bo's neck, twisting it to the side and bending it back as hard as he can. Bo panics, since it's much harder to work out of a full-body submission. Lacking a better course of action, he starts using his enormous arms to pull himself toward the ropes. "Remember, fans, he's not only locked up, but the nasture of the hold forces Bo to carry all of Flesher's weight while he does it."

 

"Yeah. Having Flesher on your back isn't a pleasant experience for Bo, no matter HOW it looks."

 

"*ahem* Anyway."

 

Bo drags himself closer by inches each time, and as he gets to the ropes, Flesher releases the hold and backs away. Bo shakes out his left leg and gets to his feet, only for Flesher to charge at him with a running shotei. He nails Bo hard in the face, and Bo backs into the ropes, finally tipping over and spilling to the outside! Bo grabs the ropes to slow his fall and manages to land on his feet, but as soon as he looks up, Flesher is waiting for him with a baseball slide dropkick! Bo's head snaps back and he backs into the guardrail. Flesher debates sliding out of the ring, but opts to stay inside.

 

"Smart move by Flesher," says Riley. "Ordinarily, I'd say he should chase Bo to the outside, since he can't win the belt by countout... but Bo's just BARELY not injured enough to get counted out."

 

"What are you talking about? He's feeling the effects of ONE flurry! ONE! There's no way he's 'just barely' able to continue!"

 

"Damn, Mark, are we watching the same match? Flesher damn near killed him!"

 

"Yes, after Bo spent the first several minutes dismantling Flesher piece by piece."

 

"Oh, don't sanitize it for the kids. He's kicking Bo's ass."

 

Bo slides back into the ring, and above Hebner's objections, Flesher begins stomping Bo, concentrating on kicking him in the side of the neck. The New York City resident absorbs a few of the kicks ad then blocks them, grabbing Flesher's leg. Gritting his teeth and shaking off the soreness in his neck, Bo stands up and keeps his grip on Flesher's leg. He wrenches it, then falls off to the side and takes Flesher to the mat with a dragon screw. Flesher hits hard, and Bo follows through by flipping Flesher to his stomach and applying an elevated half crab of his own. Unlike Flesher, though, Bo is able to elevate the leg as high as he wants to, and he nearly folds Flesher in half. Flesher reaches out and, unable to reach the ropes, lunges desperately. He throws a forearm at Bo's ankle, knocking him slightly off balance. As Bo readjusts his stance, Flesher makes use of the little bit of extra room, and dives for the ropes again. Still a few inches short, he hits Bo's ankle again, and once again he gains a few inches. This time, Tom manages to grab the bottom strand. Hebner administers the usual five-count, and Bo cranks the single-leg crab to the full extent of the rules until finally breaking the hold.

 

"Sure, Bo took a couple of boots to the neck, but he gave the pain right back," says Stevens. "I'd say Perfect Bo is still ahead on points."

 

"Shows what you know," scoffs Riley. "The only point in pro wrestling is the one on your head, Grand Piano."

 

"Now was that really necessary?"

 

"Sure! The troglodytes are paying to see Flesher and hear me mock you. Now, it wouldn't be very fair to cheat them, would it?"

 

"Well, you make a valid point, except that Tom wasn't advertised as being on the card, not even for A Few Minutes."

 

"Oh, come on. Like they couldn't tell... Flesher fans are consistently smarter and better looking than other fans. Besides, 'King, Jr?' Even Bo's fans aren't that stupid."

 

After recovering for a moment, Flesher pulls himself to his feet. Bo keeps the pressure on, grabbing him and going for the front facelock that sets up so many of his moves. Flesher resorts to the standard "clamp down and throw by" counter, looking fnr an Irish whip. Bo, though, sees it coming and reverses the motion to send Flesher bouncing off the ropes. As Tom runs toward the center, Bo throws his arm up for a lariat, which Flesher ducks. He continues running and hits the opposite ropes. As Bo turns around, Tom catches him with a running palm blow. Bo staggers, and Flesher continues the assault with a flurry of shoteis. Once again, Bo wobbles but refuses to fall. Flesher, looking very determined, hits one more stiff palm before running once more for the ropes. He hits them and, using the momentum, steps into a spin. "Woohoo!" shouts Riley as Flesher rotates a full 360 degrees and slams his palm into Bo's chin!

 

Stevens calls, "ROARING SHOTEI!" as Bo falls straight back, taking a Nestea Plunge to the mat. The fans boo as Flesher dives on top of him for

 

ONE!

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

THR- NO!!!!! "Bo kicked out of a roaring shotei, but you've gotta believe he's feeling the effects of it!"

 

"Of course he is! It's the most superior palm strike ever!"

 

Flesher stays on the mat, pulling Bo's arm out in hopes of locking on some kind of freestyle armbar pinning combination. Bo feels where it's going and, not wanting to work freestyle on the mat, tries to pull away and stand up. Flesher grins at Bo following exactly the course of action he wanted, then wrenches the arm, nails a quick boot to the neck and kicks his legs around Bo's neck and shoulder. Before Bo knows what's happening, Flesher locks his legs together and secures a triangle choke! The fans begin to boo as Bo starts struggling to break the hold before Flesher even pulls him to the mat.

 

"Very nice bait and switch tactic from Flesher, who's got the triangle choke locked onto Bo," says Stevens. "Love him or hate him, you have to admire his skill."

 

Riley grunts confusedly. "Hate him? Why the hell would-"

 

Flesher suddenly elongates his body, pulling Bo to the canvas with a THUD. He squeezes his legs together, putting pressure on Bo's windpipe and carotid artery. Bo struggles and fights, but Flesher simply strengthens the grip by crossing his legs tighter.

 

"Bo's oxygen is being cut off!"

 

"And," adds Riley gleefully, "so's the blood flow to his brain!"

 

"You have to wonder how long Bo can take this!"

 

"... of course," Riley says, "it doesn't MATTER if he gets any blood flow to the brain..."

 

"What a dangerous hold, and Bo's looking fainter by the second!"

 

"... cuz, you know, he's really, really stupid..."

 

The Creative Control member struggles, working hard to get to the ropes, but can't elongate himself far enough. Getting dangerously close to being choked out, Bo does the only thing he can. He swings his legs under, pushes up and uses his sheer strength to lift Flesher off the mat. Stevens murmurs "Oh my god" as Bo swings Flesher up and, using his last breath, slams him to the canvas with a vicious knee-drop powerbomb! The impact forces Flesher to release the triangle choke, but when he does, Bo slumps forward, completely sapped by the hold! Flesher scurries out from underneath the 285-pound carcass and rolls Bo onto his back, covering him for

 

ONE!

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

THRE- NO!!!!!!!! BO KICKS OUT! "Bo barely makes it out of that pinning predicament," says Stevens, "but he manages to avoid the pin."

 

"It's only a matter of time, Grand Toy. It's only a matter of time."

 

"Bo knew he was in trouble, but he loves that ICTV Title so much that he's not going to go down for anything less than a gunshot wound!"

 

"Or maybe a Boilermaker."

 

Flesher grabs Bo by the wrist and whips him to the ropes.

 

"He's not going to be able to hit the Boilermaker, Bobby. Bo outweighs him by 70 pounds! Besides, if they get to the top, Bo's got the Perfect Death to deal with Tom."

 

As Bo rebounds, Tom throws his foot up to go for a Yakuza kick. Bo takes an extra step to the side, though, and avoids the boot while nearly taking Flesher' head off with a clothesline! The fans burst into cheers as Flesher crashes to the mat, and a still-groggy Bo falls down onto him for

 

ONE!

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

KICKOUT! Flesher kicks out and rolls away, holding his head but not knocked out. Bo stands back up and moves toward Flesher, still showing the effects of the triangle choke and the strikes to his neck. He reaches down and grabs Flesher around the waist, looking for a tilt-a-whirl slam. Bo lifts him up, but Flesher grapevines his leg to stop the motion. He grabs Bo's hands, breaks the waistlock and spins behind him, then locks his hands around Bo's waist! He shoves the Puerto Rican forward, pushing him into the ropes, and then rolls backwards. He comes up on top, stacking Bo's legs over his body with a Rolling Prawn hold! He grabs the waistband of Bo's camouflage pants and yanks on it for leverage as he cradles the ICTV Champion for

 

ONE!

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

THREE- NO!!!!!! Mark Hebner waves off the fall because Flesher's holding the tights! Flesher stays on top of Bo, pulling the tights as hard as he can to keep Bo in the pinning predicament despite Hebner refusing to count the fall. Flesher looks at Hebner and screams, "Why aren't you counting the pin?!" Hebner calmly points to Flesher's handful of waistband. "What the hell are you talking about, man?!" "Let him go, Tom."

 

"Yeah, what the hell IS Hebner talking about?!"

 

"Oh, get over it, Bobby."

 

"Tom," says Hebner, "just let go of the tights." Flesher strains to keep his grip on them as Bo struggles to get free, and Tom replies, "Listen, man, I know you don't like me, but let me break the damn glass ceiling! LET ME BREAK THROUGH!"

 

"He's holding Tom down!"

 

"I can't believe they hired you. God, even Exploding Chicken would have been better."

 

Finally, Flesher sighs deeply and shoves Bo behind him, finally releasing the tights and Rolling Prawn. He stands to face Hebner and says, "Just remember, you screwed-"

 

He gets cut off by Bo grabbing him and pulling him into a schoolboy rollup! Hebner drops down and counts

 

ONE!

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

THRE- NO, Flesher kicks out and rolls away! He stands up and shouts at Hebner, "I didn't do a damn-"

 

Rollup!

 

ONE!

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

THRE- KICKOUT! Flesher gets to his feet and yells, "WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU-"

 

ANOTHER BO ROLLUP!

 

ONE!

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

THR- Kickout! Flesher, beet-red, pops up to his feet and just screams, "I'LL HAVE YOUR LICENSE REVO-"

 

Stevens, getting into the moment, yells, "Bo's taking him to school, boy!"

 

"Shut up."

 

ONE!

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

THREE- NO! LAST-SECOND KICKOUT! Flesher stands up, angry as all hell, and turns around quickly to make sure Bo doesn't grab him in one more rollup. Seeing Bo waiting calmly, he turns back around, looks at Mark Hebner, and drags his thumb across his throat before quickly turning back around to keep an eye on Bo. Stevens, meanwhile, is practically peeing himself laughing at the whole sequence.

 

"That was GREAT, Bobby!"

 

"WRITE DOWN THIS GUY'S NAME! He's clearly biased against those of the Superior Persuasion! That's discrimination on the grounds of superiority, and Tom doesn't have to take it!"

 

"Oh, get the rod out of your ass."

 

"Well if you don't want to be a hero, your neighbors aren't going to care when the feds come and cart YOU away!"

 

"Bobby, you're rambling."

 

"I DON'T GIVE A MOUSE'S LEFT EAR IF I'M RAMBLING! WHY, I OUGHT TO TIE A WHITE ONION TO-"

 

Flesher cuts Riley off by stalking up to Bo and shoving him backwards into the corner. With Bo caught by surprise, Tom begins unloading shoteis on Bo's face and stiff kicks to his knees. Bo tries to fight back with right hands and forearm blows, but Flesher is so angry... well... let's just ask Bobby.

 

"Flesher's redder than an altoid box! His blood pressure's higher than Mount Everest! He's more pissed than a watersports porn chick!"

 

"Where do you come up with this stuff?"

 

"I steal it from SportsCenter."

 

Flesher continues slamming his palms and Doc Martens into Bo, and finally, Bo falls into a seated position in the corner. Flesher continues kicking him, nailing him over and over again in the side of the neck. Bo tries to block the shots, but Flesher just keeps slamming his boot so fast that it's impossible to block all the kicks, and the ones that do get through just SMACK Bo's neck. Eventually, Bo just stops resisting, and Flesher nails him in the face with a full-soled kick. Flesher screams, "You gonna keep pulling that shit, little man?" He plants his boot on Bo's cheek, grabs the top rope and swings outward, scraping the sole across Bo's face. The fans boo Tom loudly as he swings back in and shouts, "You LIKE that? You LIKE that, motherfucker?" He once again plants his boot on Bo's face and swings out, scraping it in a move that's more about disrespect than any physical damage. The fans continue booing as he swings back in, drops down to his knees and quickly slaps Bo across the face before nailing one more boot scrape. He swings back into the ring, looks angrily down at Bo, and then looks up to start a golf clap for himself. As he looks angrily to the crowd and shouts, "Yeah, you BETTER applaud," a beer cup nails him in the back of the head. He no-sells, as always.

 

Riley stands up and applauds, like a good little lackey. "Woohoo! Tom, you ROCK! You ROCK MY WORLD!"

 

Stevens grabs him by the tail of his tuxedo and yanks him back to his seat. "Would you try to be more professional? You're making a mockery of this sport!"

 

"Says the guy whose gimmick is that he wears a different hat every week."

 

Flesher stands in the center of the ring, waiting for Bo to get up. Bo pulls himself to his feet, but before he can stand up, Flesher charges in and nails him in the face with a Yakuza kick! Bo's head snaps violently to the side and he falls back down. Flesher plants his boot into Bo's windpipe and, holding the ropes, chokes him. Hebner comes over and starts counting,

 

ONE! Flesher holds up one finger.

 

TWO! Two fingers.

 

THREE! Three fingers.

 

FOUR! Only two fingers this time, except they're... hmm... oh, my.

 

"What do you think you're doing?! You can't flip an official off! Get off his fucking neck!"

 

Stevens gulps. "Bobby, did Mark Hebner just..."

 

"Ignore it, Mark, just like I ignore everything you say."

 

Flesher pulls Bo back up to his feet and grabs him, whipping him across the ring into the opposite corner. He follows him in with a running palm strike, and Bo's head snaps back at an absolutely obscene angle. Flesher pulls him out to the center of the ring and whips him to the ropes once again. Bo rebounds, and Flesher catches him on the way over with a ridiculous Railgun suplex! Bo doesn't exactly fly through the air, due to his immense size advantage, but Flesher manages to get decent amplitude nonetheless, and Bo makes a loud THUD when he lands. Flesher rolls over and drapes himself arrogantly over his opponent for

 

ONE!

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

THRE- NO! KICKOUT! Flesher looks up, ready to knock Hebner's block off.

 

"Flesher's PISSED!"

 

"Well, of course he is!" shouts Riley. "Hebner's screwing him six ways to Sunday!"

 

"Not only is that NOT true, but Flesher didn't even bother to hook the leg!"

 

"Still."

 

"What?"

 

"Meh."

 

Stevens sighs.

 

"Bah."

 

Flesher yanks Bo back to his feet and, in the heat of the moment, locks his hands around Bo's chest to go for another Railgun suplex. He tries to arch back, but Bo plants his feet and stops the throw. With that, Bo nails Flesher in the head with a stiff forearm blow and whips him to the ropes. Flesher bounces off and comes running at Bo, who charges at him and stops him in his tracks with a knee to the gut! He grabs the doubled-over Flesher in a front facelock, then quickly spins around and drops an elbow into the back of his neck! Bo covers Flesher as he flattens out, and Mark Hebner counts

 

ONE!

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

THRE- NO!!!!! Flesher kicks out, and rolls over. Bo pulls him up to his feet and, remembering the sheer conceit Flesher showed earlier, whips Tom into the corner. He charges in and nails Flesher with an unbelievably stiff lariat that nearly sends Flesher over the ringpost. He backs away, and Flesher staggers forward for three steps before falling flat on his face. Bo kicks him cockily in the ribs, staring down angrily at him and glad that he's giving Flesher a taste of his own medicine.

 

"Bo's pissed off with Flesher," says Stevens. "There's no way he's going to forgive him for that boot scrape, and that, my friends, is a damn promise."

 

"Oh, Bo gets so pissy about the littlest things. 'Don't dis me.' 'Don't take my belt.' 'Please back your car off my foot.' Jesus, if I was that oversensitive, I'd get fired. I tell ya, it's only his connections with Stubby that are keeping him employed here."

 

Bo picks Flesher up and whips him carelessly into the opposite corner. Showing utter and complete disregard for Flesher's safety or well-being, Bo nails him with another running clothesline that nearly sends his head flying into the third row. Flesher goes limp in the corner, and Bo, smirking, lifts him to the top rope. He turns to face the crowd, and he throws his fist into the air, prompting a pop from the crowd that can be heard all the way to Texas.

 

"He's not going for..." Riley turns absolutely white.

 

"It's okay, Bobby. Bo won't kill him... he'll just maim him a little."

 

Bo begins his slow ascent to the top rope, climbing up one foot at a time. Finally, he stands on the top strand, and he grabs Flesher in position for a vertical suplex.

 

"He's going for the Perfect Death top-rope brainbuster!"

 

"Shut up, shut UP!"

 

Bo pulls Flesher all the way up, but can't quite lift him... Flesher's legs are hooked under the ropes! Bo tries to lift him again, but Flesher frees himself from the front facelock and immediately catches Bo with a palm strike to the chin! Bo starts to lose his balance, and Flesher unloads a flurry of palm blows to Bo's jaws and neck! With each shotei, Bo seems to lose his balance just a little bit more, until finally, one extremely stiff palm strike sends Bo crashing to the mat! The crowd responds with a chorus of boos, and Flesher answers with a golf clap. With that, he leaps off the top rope and comes down HARD on Bo with a double stomp to the chest! Bo cries out on impact, feeling Flesher's 213 pounds slamming into his sternum, and as Flesher bounces off, he grabs his chest in severe pain. Flesher grabs him by the arms and lifts him, then whips him into the corner, chases after him and nails him in the back of the head with a running shotei!

 

"Flesher's taking it to Bo," shouts Riley happily. "He doesn't even NEED his cup of coffee!"

 

Flesher grabs Bo around the waist and, with extreme difficulty, hoists him up to the top rope. Before Bo can regain his bearings, Flesher has him seated on the top rope facing the crowd. Tom scrambles up the ropes, stands on the top behind Bo and locks on a dragon sleeper. With the dragon sleeper locked on, Tom falls backwards into a tree of woe position.

 

"Bow Down To Glory!" says Mark Stevens.

 

"Well, okay, if you say so." Riley begins bowing, scraping and generally acting like a total tool in Flesher's general direction. A few select fans burst into cheers despite hating Flesher, simply because the hold looks so damn cool. Flesher cranks the Bow Down To Glory hanging dragon hold, despite Mark Hebner immediately beginning his five-count.

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

THREE!

 

FOUR!

 

Finally, just before five, Flesher releases the hold and slides down to the mat. Bo, sapped of his energy, stays tied to the tree of woe as Flesher stands up and nails him with a baseball slide to the face. Tom gets back to his feet and unties Bo, letting him fall callously to the mat. Flesher grabs Bo and lifts him to his feet, throwing on a half nelson. Quickly, he grapevines Bo's near leg, and with a swift sweep of the leg....

 

CRASH

 

"JOKER'S WILD!!!!! JOKER'S WILD!!!!!!!" Stevens damn near shits himself. "Flesher busts out the Suicide King's old-school finisher!!!!!"

 

"That's what Bo gets for calling him King Junior! Take THAT, Bo!"

 

Flesher gets up to his feet and grins out at the crowd, dusting his hands off, obviously proud of himself and WAY too amused at busting out the Joker's Wild. With Bo flat on his face, Flesher smirkingly drops down onto his back, locks on the dragon sleeper again and sits back, securing a double grapevine. He cranks the hold as Bobby Riley says...

 

"SUPERIOR STRETCH BETA! Flesher's busting out ALL his big moves against Bo!"

 

"And, unfortunately, I'm not sure if Bo can take this any longer."

 

"Unfortunately? What the hell, man, don't you want an ICTV Champion who can DRAW?!"

 

Flesher cranks the Superior Stretch Beta, but Bo refuses to tap. He tries desperately to pull himself to the ropes, but Flesher keeps him in the center of the ring with no possibility of a rope break. Bo tries to power out, but with his neck having been assaulted throughout the match, there's not much Bo can do.

 

He thinks about it.

 

Flesher torques his neck.

 

He thinks about it some more.

 

Flesher bends him in half until....

 

 

TAP

 

 

TAP

 

 

TAP!!!!!!!

 

"BO HAS SUBMITTED TO THE SUPERIOR STRETCH BETA!"

 

"NEW ICTV CHAMP! NEW CHAMP! NEW CHAMP! ALL IS RIGHT WITH THE WORLD!"

 

 

DING DING DING!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

 

Flesher immediately releases the hold and raises his hands into the air. The intro to "I Am The Man" begins to blare over the loudspeaker as Mark Hebner raises Flesher's hand.

 

"The winner," says Funyon, "and NEW Intercontinental-Television Champion... 'The Superior One,' Tom Flesher!" The fans shower him with boos, unable to believe that Bo tapped to the Superior Stretch Beta. Hebner hands Flesher the Light Heavyweight Title and his newly-won ICTV belt, and Flesher's smile spreads across his face from ear to ear. After a moment's consideration, he puts the ICTV around his waist and slings the Light Heavyweight over his shoulder, then mounts the closest turnbuckle and throws his arms into the air. He bellows out of excitement, and the fans respond by showering him with empty beer cups.

 

(He no-sells.)

 

With that, the picture fades into a backstage segment to hype Thoth vs. Silent.

[Guest BA_Baracus]

“The following contest... will be held under the rules of... HELL IN A CELL!”

 

The crowd goes absolutely nuts as Funyon’s word boom loud and echo throughout the arena. A spotlight illuminates the cell as it slowly descends, shining a light with numerous crosshatches running through it on the audience. A beat thumps, like a heartbeat, pulsing as the cell is lowered.

 

“We’ve been looking forward to this one for a while, Bobby.”

 

“18 months ago, Thoth and Silent went at it in one of the greatest IGNML matches in history. Now... the rematch. The venue is grander and the stakes just may be higher.”

 

“Silent and Thoth are the last two member sof the now-defunct Clan... I’m worried as hell that one of them could be seriously and permanently injured here tonight... or worse.”

 

“Mark, you can rest assured that Thoth and Silent are going to try to kill each other before our very eyes.”

 

Finally, it touches bottom, and the heartbeat fades. A low, echoing riff starts to play, unfamiliar music to most. It’s “Little Mac’s Confession” by Game Over, and it’s readily apparent it’s Thoth new theme as the Smarktron shows fleeting images of the Balancer sitting on a bench on the locker room. The bass starts to pick up as a pinprick spotlight grows in size. Drums kick in, and the spotlight strobes wildly as the vocals kick in and the Balancer makes his entrance.

 

“Doc I know I let you down

Cause you counted on me

But David beating Goliath

Just was not meant to be...”

 

“Introducing first, from Aechiba, Japan, weighing in at 236 pounds... THOOOOTH!”

 

The crowd cheers, not only for the Balancer’s name, but for the fact that he is one half of the participants in this crowd-pleasing match. An official holds a door in the cage open that will be locked and chained shut, making sure no one will be able to get in or out.

 

...of course, the audience knows better than that. So do Thoth... and the other participant in this match. The arena darkens as Spineshank’s “Detached” starts to play and a billowing mobile wall of fog. The Slaughterer emerges. The look on his face is hard to discern as he meanders down the ramp at his own pace.

 

“And, his opponent, from Pheonix, Arizona, weighing in at 248 pounds... SIIIILENT!”

 

Thoth leans in the turnbuckle farthest from the door as the Slaughterer enters the confines of the steel cell, and then up the steps. Immediately, the official shuts the door while another comes running with the lock and chain. They quickly seal the cell tight as the two bitter rivals stand abreast from each other, waiting only for the bell to conclude 18 months of waiting and agony.

 

*DING DING DING*

 

Silent rears back, and slaps Thoth hard across the face, knocking his frame to the side! Thoth reels, his body falling to the side... but as he falls, he lifts his leg up, cracking Silent right in the GODDAMN FACE! The Slaughterer steps back, putting his weight hard on his rear foot, completely not expecting an attack! He holds his hand to his face, feeling the pain throb through his face and pulse onto his hand. He looks back at Thoth, who has his arms out in a fighting position. Thoth obviously has no qualms about this battle... so why should he? To a loud pop and a “Here we go!” from Mark Stevens, the two finally lock up with the intensity that a battle of this magnitude deserves. They strain against each other, both feeling that strange ephemeral barrier that is the cell. Though not fully solid, it seems to filter or block out noise altogether. The crowd’s cheers seem muffled as the two rivals battle each other, Silent getting the upperhand and going behind with a relatively safe hammerlock. Thoth reaches back instantaneously and pulls Silent up overhead with a snap mare, forcing his foe in a sitting position. Thoth winds up early, backing into the ropes, then charging forward, ready to drive the knee into the back of the head. He leaves his feet to thrust his knee...

 

And Silent kicks up and back, smacking Thoth loudly in the face! The Balancer crumples in a heap when he lands, bouncing once.

 

“Jesus, Mark, I was sorta kidding when I said they were going to kill each other... but it’s only been a minute or so and they’ve already cracked each other’s skulls open! Or damn near close to it...”

 

Silent crawls over on his knees and forces the Balancer onto his back, getting the first count of the match.

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

And Thoth kicks out, the volume of the hit apparently not equal to the damage done. Silent pulls Thoth up violently by the hair and pummels him in the face like a punching bag. Thoth tries to get his arms up to block the buffeting blows. It dulls the pain, but come nowhere near to stopping it. Silent starts attacking other areas on Thoth’s body with his educated fists, driving the Balancer back. In the corner now, Thoth begins to shirk away, but with nowhere to go, he launches himself at Silent, taking him down to the mat! It’s a sloppy takedown, one that sees Thoth in a bad position to take advantage of the situation: Not a lot of body to body coverage. He tries to move so he can keep Silenty pinned on the ground, but the Slaughterer starts to overpower, so in a panic, he starts drilling him in the face, Silent flinches with each blow, his movements slowing down as he is forced to contend with Thoth’s fist in his face. With a scowl on his countenance, Silent shoves the Balancer off and gets to his feet, charging with a clothesline that knocks Thoth, who also just found his footing, to the mat. He pulls the Balancer over onto his back and eschews a pin to go straight for his face, expressing his anger, his rage with force. He leans down to throw another blow and then stops short, letting the knuckles dangle inches from Thoth’s face.

 

“Why is Silent letting up all of a sudden?” asks Mark Stevens, semi-rhetorically and totally confused. The Balancer doesn’t spend any time pondering this turn of events, as he grabs Silent’s arm, twists it painfully, and forces him to beg off, as they both get to their feet again. The crowd is confused as to what is going on... why SIlent’s normally wide aggressive streak is faltering now. Silent shakes his head, getting the cobwebs out that plague his performance. Another collar and elbow... Silent tries to wrench the arm for the Fracture Drop, but Thoth counters wish an Irish Whip. Silent to the far side... and Thoth leaps up with an extended leg, catching SIlent under the chin. The crowd pops... barely, as Thoth hooks the leg.

 

ONE!

 

TW- Kickout. “For all the hype of this match, Silent is wrestling very carelessly and nonchalantly. He’s either distracted or... holding back, the latter doesn’t seem to make a lot of sense. True, Silent’s been avoiding a confrontation over the last few weeks during Smarkdowns and Storms, but that may have just been mind games.”

 

Thoth pulls Silent up by his long black hair and starts his offense light, landing a combination of punches and forearms that are meant to position Silent in the ring for another move. He eases him into the corner, bit by bit, and then whips him to the far side... or tries to, but it’s reversed, and Thoth goes careening into the corner, Silent following very close behind. As soon as the Balancer’s frame connects with the trunbuckles, Silent throws a vicious clothesline that knocks Thoth back... and up over the ropes down to the floor! The crowd pops as the violence quotient for the match has just increased by one. Thoth pushes on the black and gold (Hey, it’s Genesis, even the mats look good) protective mats to help himself up as Silent climbs through the ropes and out onto the apron. He stalks Thoth, lining his target up just right. He leaps, clenching his fists and raising his arms overhead, and smashes them into the top of Thoth’s back like a hammer! He stumbles forward, falling, but the wall of the clel breaks his fall, bending ever so slightly. Silent grits his teeth and leaps up, driving a dropkick into the back of Thoth’s head, pushing him against the cell wall. Those in the front row have a disgusting view as the wires cut into Thoth’s flesh, painting them red. Thoth grunts in agony, holding his hand to his face. His eyes widen when he sees blood. He looks up to see Silent charge in, wrenching his arm, and driving Thoth into the canvas on his second try with the Fracture Drop. He lifts Thoth up and rolls him into the ring, hooking the leg and yelling for the ref to count.

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

TH- Thoth kicks out defiantly, even with his own blood streaming down his face and staining the ring. Silent bloodies his hands lifting Thoth up and whipping him to the ropes. He plants his foot, waiting for the Balancer to come back... he pushes off, turning his body and extending his arm... Roaring Elbow! The Balancer goes down hard as Silent... doesn’t go for the pin, but gets behind his head and locks in a sleeper...

 

“Wait a minute!” exclaims Mark Stevens. “That’s the Awakener!”

 

“Silent pulling the Awakener out of the mothballs,” says Riley. “In fact, in their first encounter inside the Cell, Thoth tapped out to the Awakener, thus making Silent the IGNML Western US Champion. Will history repeat itself right here?”

 

Silent wrenches on Thoth’s neck, trying to muscle his way through to victory. He feels the electric shocks, the pulses and feedback rushing up Silent’s arms, letting him know how hard he has to pull to achieve victory. Thoth’s eyes are wide, his jaw tightening, his neck strained. He could risk permanent injury by staying in the hold for thislong, but he has to fight... he has to escape...

 

“There’s no disqualifications, no countouts, nothing like that in this match,” notes Stevens. “Thoth can make it to the ropes all he wants, but Silent is under no obligation to break that hold under any circumstances.”

 

Thoth struggles, pulling on Silent’s vice-like arms to ease the tension... but he can’t get them removed long enough to breathe or feel relatively comfortable... time is running out. Thoth lets go of Silent’s arms, giving him just enough time to...

 

Throw an elbow to Silent’s face, cracking his neck back! Silent gets up immediately, letting go and clutching at his own sore neck! Through a haze of blood, Thoth sees an opportunity to recover. He approaches his foe, boots him in the gut, drapes a leg over, and connects with a Guillotine Face Buster, not only taking him down, but delivering a heavy impact to his neck as well!

 

“Thoth going for the one weakness Silent has; his neck. He’s going to have to focus on that if he wants any chance of victory.”

 

With Silent incapacitated, for the moment at leats, Thoth takes some time to go into the corner and rest. The crowd calms down, allowing Thoth to focus on himself and his body. His neck is sore, having been stretched out from the Awakener. He rubs his face again. The blood flow is slowing, but is still running in rivulets down his face. He shakes it off, and moves froward again, ready to press the attack. Silent is pushing himself up to his feet, trying to hold his neck in place and avoid pain. Thoth won’t have any of it, using one of his patented finger thrusts, aiming this one back farther than usual, at the top of the neck. Silent reels, bending over a tad, and Thoth gets him down all the way with a Downward Spiral. Silent hits canvas and rolls over onto his back, Thoth making the logical pin.

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

TH- And Silent gets the shoulder up. Thoth looks at the ref menacingly, who shrugs and holds up two fingers shyly. Thoth looks at him as he pulls on Silent’s hair... which is a mistake that will cost him. The Slaughterer notices that Thoth’s attention is wavered... and connects with the always-reliable Galatea Special! Thoth crumples down, and Silent takes advantage by practicing his football punt with Thoth’s head. The crowd flinches and shudders as Thoth’s head snaps back like a brusied apple. The audience in Vancouver expected a bloody, violent match, perhaps culminating with a cage bump... but this is bad enough. Thoth goes down as the referee rushes to Thoth’s side and checks his neck, asking if he can continue. Thoth gurgles some un-intellgible stuff, due to the buildup of fluid in his throat. Silent has no such compassion, shoving the referee aside and covering Thoth. The ref hesitates, reluctant to count the pin for someone who just disrespected him like that, but indeed, he has a job to do. Slowly, he gets down on his kness and counts.

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

THRE- And Thoth just barely, out of instinct even, gets the arm up. “If the referee hadn’t taken his sweet time making that cover, this match would already be over,” exclaims Riley, angry over the officiating in this No-DQ, No countout match. Silent looks around, clenching Thoth’s head tight in his hands which tighten due to frustration. He looks aorund, trying to find a way to use his environment to his advantage. He sees Thoth’s bloodied face... and he starts to get an idea. He looks up at the ceiling... and the crowd knows, and catches on, cheering loudly. Silent starts attacking with right hands, knocking Thoth back a step with every blow. He backs him toward the ropes, until the Balancer’s body is bending them back. Silent looks into Thoth’s bloodstained eyes, smirking evilly as he throws his most powerful clothesline, the Burning Lariat...

 

Which Thoth ducks! He leaps up with a dropkick catching Silent in the back of the head, sending him to the outside. Thoth climbs outside, dragging Silent with him and scraping his face across the sharp metal cell walls, drawing a good measure of blood as well. He stops for a moment, pacing out some distance between him and the cell wall in his mind, then starts running, shoving Silent’s body head-first into the wall like a battering ram!

 

“Thoth’s trying to use Silent to get outside the cage! And that means...”

 

“The only logical choice for them would be to go... up.” The commentary lingers as the events of Hell in a Cell 18 months ago are clear in everyone’s mind. Thoth backs up again, charging foward with Silent on his shoulder. His face, stained with blood as well, smears against the cell wall, which bends... but holds, pushing them both back. Thoth almost loses hold of Silent, and has to stop to adjust his grip. A third run now, moving slowly at first, but soon picking up speed, Silent on a collision course with the cell... were he not currently slipping down the back of Thoth! The Balancer stops and turns towards Silent, who grabs his arm and takes Thoth over onto the mat. The Slaughterer climbs into the ring with Thoth lying prone on the outside, and stands above him, grabbing the top rope with both hands. In one fluid motion, he hops onto the top rope, letting the tnesion catapult him several feet above Thoth, as he extends a leg and drives it HARD across Thoth’s already injured neck.

 

“The Angel’s Wings... to the outside! This match hasn’t even gone outside the confines of the cage yet, and we’ve already seen some painful maneuvers!” exclaims Stevens.

 

The blood running down Thoth’s face splashes up upon impact, a drop actually catching on one of the cameras showing Genesis 3 to a live audience at home. The camera angle is quickly switched as the cameraman wipes the blood off, looking at it with disdain. Silent picks Thoth up off the mat and scoops him up, holding him across his shoulder, like Thoth was doing just moments ago. He charges forward, then stopping about four feet in front of the cell wall, heaving Thoth’s 236 pounds like a rock at the cell wall. The wall bulges... but amazingly holds, as Thoth crumples in a heap at the foot of the wall. Silent is nonplussed, going under the ring to grab a steel chair. Spinning it in one hand, getting a feel for the weight, he turns back towards Thoth. He lifts it overhead, and the arena lights reflect off of it for a moment, one single shine before cracking it down across the limp Thoth. His body convulses. Not good enough for the Slaughterer, who slams the chair down again. And again. And again. The crowd screams their hate, their frustration by booing and hissing, trying to be as loud as they can be and get Silent’s attention. The Slaughterer hisses back, dropping the chair, and throwing the limp Thoth back in the ring for the pin. He rolls in himself and hooks the leg hard...

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

THREE- And Thoth still gets the arm up!

 

“How... I don’t get it!” says Riley, flabbergasted.

 

“There’s too much at stake for Thoth to lose like this,” repsonds Stevens. “He’s tired, bloody, been beaten with a chair, but the fight is just beginning for him.”

 

Silent gets to his feet and nudges Thoth with his foot. He has the consistency of dead animal right now, curled up in a ball like he is now. Silent lifts him up and puts him on the top rope, slapping him across the face. Thoth’s blood catches on his hand, and he looks at it, staring at it. He wipes some blood from his face and looks at them both intently, perhaps comparing the two. He smashes his hands together, mixing and coagulating the blood before facing Thoth. He strikes him with both hands, smearing both their blood on his face before stepping up to hook him for a Brainbuster. He tries to lift, but Thoth blocks, sticking his leg between Silent’s! The crowd comes alive as Thoth has some life left in him! The Balancer shoves Silent off and climbs the turnbuckle, all the way to the top. He wipes the blood out of his eyes and looks around. The crowd is on their feet, and that’s all Thoth needs to fly through the air, and tuck his knees in tight, slamming into Silent with all the force he can muster, his knees like blunt daggers into the Slaughterer’s stomach and heart. The momentum forces Thoth to roll over and through. He kicks his legs out from under him, pushing himself towards the prone Silent... and makes the lateral press!

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

THR- No! It’s not enough as Silent manages to kick out. Thoth looks positively dejected as Silent lies on his side, breathing heavily. Getting a more determined look on his face, he lifts Silent up and throws him out of the ring, near the same point that he tried to sue him to break the cage open. He follows through, and picks Silent up, heaving him into the cell wall. No go. He looks around, and then realizes there’s only one way out of this. He grabs Silent by the trunks, and runs with him... all the way into the wall...

 

And the cell wall gives way! They both tumble out, careening over each other as the crowd goes absolutely nuts, and the announcers scream “The cell’s open! The cell’s open!” Thoth gets to his feet first, and sees the looming structure from the other side... and there is only one thing to do.

 

Getting a firm fingerhold, he pulls, and starts to climb, looking down behind him to see if Silent is following. He struggles with each step, the crowd becoming louder and louder, until finally, twenty feet from the floor, he has at the top. He lies down on his stomach, fingers clutching the metal bar on the lip of the roof. Silent slowly gets to his feet. Thoth can see his bloodstained features meet his as Silent takes foothold. Good, he understands. Thoth backs off to the other side as Silent ascends, finally draping a leg over. Both men look at each other for the briefest moment before locking up atop the cage. Silent tires a DDT, but Thoth counters into a Northern Lights! The cell buckles, but holds, the entire structure creaking. Thoth lifts him up, but SIlent refuses to quit, knocking Thoth in the face, spinning him around 180 degrees. Silent hooks a dragon suplex... and slams Thoth back and neck-first into the cell... it holds, but SIlent rolls through and slams another one into the same section section of steel mech, which still amazingly holds! A third dragon suplex... and a fourth... but the cell holds! Silent starts to heave for a fifth, but Thoth gets a Galatea Special of his own with his leg! Silent bends over to stanch the pain, and Thoth scoops him for Riot of the Blood...

 

“He wouldn’t...”

 

“He couldn’t!”

 

He drops him... right on the cage.

 

...

 

...

 

And it gives way.

 

Both men tumble 15 feet to the mat, where they collapse. Completely... motionless. Thoth’s arm, by coincidence, has been draped over Silent’s. The referee, with no other options, counts the fall.

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

THREE!

 

*DING DING DING*

 

No music plays, nor does Funyon make any announcement. The crowd is silent as Mark Stevens and Bobby Riley to find words.

 

They cannot. EMT’s rush out with a pair of stretchers as a promo for the next PPV plays for the TV audience.

[Guest BA_Baracus]

Ben Hardy:...and with your purchase of “SWF Bloopers, Volume 26”, you’ll also receive “CrotchMania! The Best of SWF Low-Blows” at no additional charge! Call now, our operators are completely bored!

 

Hardy’s pathetic pitch for SWF merchandise quickly fades out, only to be replaced almost instantaneously by a shot of the inside of the PNE Coliseum, which is absolutely packed to the brim with screaming, sign-waving, alcohol-guzzling fans. The camera does a quick pan of the crowd as “Open Your Eyes” by Goldfinger hits the speakers, showcasing such signs as “Canadians Rule! Go CIA!” and “Raynor’s Payback is Here!” amongst the usual gathering of “(Insert Face Here) Rules!” and “(Insert Heel Here) Sucks!” signs. After a few seconds, the shot quickly cuts to Mark Stevens and Bobby Riley, situated behind their announce desk and looking oh-so-precious in their matching tuxedos.

 

Stevens: And welcome back to SWF Genesis III, ladies and gentlemen! It’s time for the moment you’ve all been waiting for-

 

Riley: I wasn’t waiting.

 

Stevens: AHEM. The moment MOST of you have been waiting for-

 

Riley: Thank you!

 

Stevens: -our Main Event for the evening, as El Luchadore Magnifico defends his World Heavyweight Title against a Mystery Opponent! But man oh man, we’ve gone through a hell of a lot to get here!

 

Riley: Damn straight! Along with Tag, US, and ICTV Title defenses, we also bore witness to a Two out of Three Falls Match, the first-ever Vancouver Streetfight, a Last Man Standing Match, and the Hell in a Cell!! It’s been fan-freaking-tastic!

 

Stevens: Finally, after numerous breathtaking contests, we’ve come to our Main Event, but we have no idea who Magnifico will be defending against!

 

Riley: All I can say is that it better be a DAMN good surprise, or I’m gonna ask for my money back!

 

Stevens: After the amazing spectacle you witnessed tonight, you’d ask for your money back?!

 

Riley: And why the hell not?

 

Stevens: For one, you’re being paid to do this.

 

Riley: A minor setback!

 

Stevens: *sigh* Folks, as I’ll try to drill some sense into Riley’s head, but in the meantime, we’re gonna hand it over to Funyon, so we can get our Main Event started!

 

The camera switches over to Funyon, standing in the very center of the ring, waiting patiently for the first entrance as the fans murmur excitedly. Suddenly, a Mexican voice comes over the speakers, shouting “UNO! DOS! TRES! CUATRO!” as a rocket of pyro shoots upwards from each turnbuckle in conjuction with each shouted word! The crowd immediately bursts into cheers, nearly drowning out “Mission Trip to Mexico” by Bunch of Believers, and only grows louder when El Luchadore Magnifico bursts out from behind the curtain, waving his Mexican Flag proudly and wearing the World Title around his waist! Grinning wildly, ELM stops at the top of the ramp and holds his Mexican Flag high in the air, creating a primo photo opportunity that many fans take advantage of, bathing the luchadore in light as he poses on the stage.

 

Funyon: Ladies and gentlemen, this contest is scheduled for one fall, and it is for the SWF World Heavyweight Championship! Introducing first, from Mexico City, Mexico, weighing in at 190 pounds, he is the SWF World Heavyweight Champion...El Luchadoooooorre Magnificooooooo!!

 

Upon hearing his name, Magnifico breaks the pose and quickly heads down the ramp, his flag flapping wildly in the wind as he gives high-fives with his free hand. ELM reaches the ring and slides beneath the bottom rope, then pops to his feet, flag in hand, and hops onto the nearby second turnbuckle. Once there, Magnifico resumes his reckless flag-waving, squeezing a little more heat from the crowd before hopping back down to the mat. As “Mission Trip to Mexico” fades out, ELM unwraps the belt from around his waist and hands it and the title to the ref. Suddenly unburdened, Magnifico begins some light stretches in the ring, preparing himself for the match as a determined look comes over his face.

 

Stevens: Just think, it was only last year when the man before you was a sniveling, cowardly little jerk, who pinned Chris Wilson’s hands to the mat with Mexican flags to win the Title!

 

Riley: I know, what the hell happened?? Magnifico used to be SO much cooler when he was whacking people with flags and doing anything he could to win. Goddamn Carnies, they ruined him!

 

Magnifico continues his stretches, keeping his eyes focused on the top of the stage. The fans surrounding the luchadore suddenly quiet down, becoming almost completely silent as they eagerly await ELM’s opponent.

 

Silence...

 

Silence...

 

Silence...

 

And then...

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“THIS IS MAH HOUSE!!”

 

Stevens: Holy crap!! It’s-it’s-!

 

Riley: JAY FUCKING DAWG!! Huzzah!!

 

The fans immediately burst into a rousing round of noise, as some boo, some cheer, and some simply yell, while fireworks explode all around the arena, signaling the entrance of Jamie Drazon, better known as Jay Dawg. The house lights are suddenly cut out, as Rammstein's "Du Haste" pounds over the speakers without the lyrics... The heavy beats thunder 360 degrees all over the arena... JD steps through the curtains, his head down. He walks to the top of the ramp, slowly raising his head, the Hardcore Title wrapped around his waist. He lowers his head again, although a smile without good intentions is now plastered on his face.

 

Funyon: And now, the Challenger, weighing in at 250 pounds, from Vancouver, British Columbia, Canada, he is the SWF Hardcore Champion...Jaaaaaaaay Daawwwwwwwwg!!

 

JD quickly makes his way down the ring, ignoring both the boos and the hometown cheers. He enters the ring, pops to his feet, places his hands on his thighs, and slowly cricks his neck. Dawg stares directly at the somewhat surprised luchadore, his eyes burning with hate and determination. Magnifico returns the glare, just as determined and focused as JD could ever be. The ref suddenly steps between them, thrusts the World Title into the air to signify its defense, and then signals for the bell to start the match!

 

DING DING DING

 

Stevens: I can’t believe it!! Jay Dawg, one of the oldest veterans and finest competitors this league has to offer, is getting the title shot in his hometown of Vancouver! JD’s two years in this fed come to a head right here and now, as he receives the chance to become the World Champion! Incredible!

 

Riley: You’re goddamn right it’s incredible! All the shit JD took over the years, all the hardship, the pain, the loss, it’s all going to be made up right now, as the King of Hardcore destroys Magnifico for the World Heavyweight Title!

 

JD and Mag remain absolutely still, staring at each other across the few feet that separate them. The fans, bursting with excitement, begin clapping in unison, clapping louder and faster with each second the two men remain motionless. Finally, Dawg and ELM slowly step towards each other, coming closer and closer until they are practically face-to-face. The tension slowly grows and the clapping becomes louder, until JD suddenly shoots his hand out, smacking ELM across the face! All the tension and clapping disappear, replaced by a prolonged OOOOH! from the crowd at JD’s disrespect. Magnifico absorbs all of the blow, cocking his head to the side from the force of the slap. ELM remains motionless for a second, no expression on his face...then suddenly lashes his arm out, connecting with a right jab to JD’s jaw! The shot sparks a back-and-forth brawl between the two, with the crowd’s cheering growing louder with each punch! After a few seconds, JD’s superior strength allows him to take control, as he begins backing Magnifico across the ring with successive shots to the skull. As ELM backs towards the ropes, JD suddenly stops his assault and suddenly grabs Magnifico by the arm, before using his grip to whip him across the ring. ELM rushes across the ring, bounces off of the far ropes, and charges back towards a waiting Dawg. As Magnifico approaches, JD suddenly bends over, looking to catch the luchadore with a Backdrop! However, ELM manages to leap clear over Dawg’s body, landing on his feet behind JD and staying there as he stands back up! Once JD is upright, Magnifico reaches back and hooks his arms, as if for a Backslide!

 

Stevens: Whoa! Magnifico already has Jay set up for the Baja California Crusher! He might end it right here and now!

 

Riley: Bullcrap! Magnifico’s Crap Crusher or whatever isn’t nearly enough to put down the King of Hardcore! Besides, it’s not like he’s gonna land it!

 

With Dawg’s arms hooked, Magnifico charges forward...before falling suddenly to his knees, dragging JD downwards and pinning his shoulders to the mat with an actual Backslide! As JD struggles wildly to escape, the surprised crowd releases pop, growing louder as the ref slides into position and begins counting...

 

ONE...

 

TWO-No! Dawg breaks free of Magnifico’s hold and quickly rolls to his feet, while ELM does the same. JD manages to stand a little earlier, however, giving him time to spin around and lash out with his foot, aiming it directly at Magnifico’s head with a Thai Roundhouse Kick! ELM manages to duck just in time, as JD’s foot WHOOSH!es harmlessly above him. Unfortunately for JD, the momentum from the kick spins him around 180 degrees, allowing Magnifico to pop to his feet and apply a Rear Waistlock! But before ELM has a chance to do anything with it, Dawg suddenly drives his elbow backwards, slamming it directly into Magnifico’s skull! With the luchadore distracted by the sudden jolt of pain, JD is able to break free of the hold and spin around behind Magnifico, applying a Rear Waistlock of his own! Dawg immediately lifts ELM up and begins falling backwards for a German Suplex, but as he does so, Magnifico suddenly leans forward and hooks his legs beneath JD’s arms! ELM then dives towards the mat, dragging JD down with him and pinning Dawg to the canvas as he rolls over! The ref slides into position once more as another rousing set of cheers rise from the crowd...

 

ONE...

 

TWO...No! JD forcefully kicks out after two and pops back to his feet as Magnifico struggles to get back to his. Dawg waits a second for ELM to stand, and once he does, JD suddenly charges towards him, lashing out his arm as he approaches and snapping Magnifico back down to the mat with a vicious Clothesline!

 

Riley: What’d I tell ya? Not only does JD escape, but he manages to kick Magnifico’s ass in the process!

 

Stevens: I’d hardly call a Clothesline “kicking someone’s ass”, Riley. And it’s not like ELM just stood there and took the blow.

 

Riley: Who gives a damn what he did? All I know is that he’s on the ground, and JD isn’t.

 

Magnifico tries to stand, but JD grabs him by the hair before he can do so, painfully jerking ELM back to his feet. The luchadore writhing under his grasp, JD heads over to the nearest corner before driving Magnifico’s head forward, slamming it into the top turnbuckle with violent force! After ELM’s head bounces off of the turnbuckle, he turns around and leans up against the corner, absorbing the kicks that JD delivers to his gut. Once he lands three or four, Dawg steps onto the second ropes jutting out from the corner and pulls Magnifico’s hair back, before using his free hand to bash ELM’s skull with a stiff punch! JD delivers three similar punches, motivating the crowd to count along with each one, before drawing his fist back for the fifth and most powerful blow! But as Dawg winds up, Magnifico suddenly grabs him around the waist and lifts him into the air, before spinning around and sitting JD on the top turnbuckle! Once he’s there, ELM delivers two solid punches to JD’s gut, temporarily stunning him and allowing Magnifico to step onto the second rope! Once there, ELM grabs JD by the head and arm, locking him in a Suplex position! The fans pop in anticipation as Magnifico remains motionless for a second, summoning the strength to lift JD off of the turnbuckle! Once he’s done summoning, the luchadore attempts a Superplex, but Dawg manages to block it, as he grabs the top rope with his free hand! Magnifico tries once more, JD maintains his grip on the rope, denying ELM’s second Superplex attempt! Suddenly, JD lets go of the rope and uses his arm to give Magnifico a hard shove, which sends him flying backwards off of the turnbuckle! ELM crashes into the mat, the force of the impact shaking the ring violently as Dawg stands up straight on the top rope. Magnifico slowly climbs back to his feet, shaking off the fall, and as he stands, JD suddenly leaps off of the top rope, extending his arm as he does so and soaring towards ELM with a Flying Clothesline! However, Magnifico leaps upwards as JD approaches, kicking his feet out and driving them directly into Dawg's face with a Flipping Dropkick in mid-air! The fans release an impressed OOOOH! before cheering loudly, as JD crashes to the mat, his hands on his face. Magnifico quickly scampers over to Jay and covers him, hooking his leg as the ref slides into position...

 

ONE...

 

TWO...No! JD kicks out at two and a half, promptly silencing most of the cheering.

 

Stevens: That looked remarkably similar to the counter Edwin performed during his World Title Match with Magnifico! ELM shot JD right out of the sky with a well-timed Missile Dropkick, much like Edwin did with the Gamengiri to Magnifico!

 

Riley: Oooh, the Carnies are sharing their little moves. Isn’t that repulsively special.

 

Magnifico rolls off of JD and quickly stands back up, delivering a few stomps to Jay as he lays on the mat, still holding his face. After a few good shots, ELM grabs Dawg by the arm and pulls him to his feet, before using his grip to whip JD towards the far corner. Dawg crashes back first into the turnbuckle, and as soon as he lands, Magnifico charges across the ring, aiming himself directly at JD! ELM suddenly leaps into the air, apparently looking to land a Stinger Splash, when JD suddenly moves out of the way, leaving Magnifico to fall face-first onto the top turnbuckle! The fans OOOH! in unison as ELM stumbles backwards from the corner, his hand on his chin. Unfortunately for him, JD has made his way behind the luchadore, and as Magnifico backs towards him, Dawg drives his knee forward, slamming it into ELM’s lower back! The luchadore cries out and arches his back in pain, but has little time to suffer, as JD grabs him by the waist and arm and lifts him into the air! Dawg turns ELM parallel to the mat, elevates him a good five feet, and then drives the luchadore downwards, extending his knee as he does so and slamming Magnifico into it! Boos pour in from every corner of the crowd as ELM falls to the mat, arching his back in pain and rolling onto his stomach. JD quickly stands up straight and wastes no time continuing his assault, as he begins stomping away wildly at ELM’s exposed back.

 

Riley: Whoo, here we go! Keep working it JD! It’s kinda hard to fight with a broken back!

 

Stevens: It’s also hard to do good commentary with some idiot blathering on next to you.

 

Riley: Well, it’s about time you realized your endless blabbering, Stevens! Maybe now I can get some work done!

 

Dawg lands about ten stomps, then grabs Magnifico by the arm and drags him to his feet. Once ELM is standing, JD uses his grip to whip him across the ring, towards the far ropes. Magnifico bounces off of said ropes and rushes back towards Dawg, and as he approaches, JD wraps his arms around the luchadore’s waist with a Front Waistlock! JD then quickly drops backwards and throws ELM into the air, driving him into the canvas with a Belly-to-Belly Suplex! Magnifico cries out and arches his back again, but is suddenly pushed down to the mat as Dawg makes the cover, hooking the leg as the ref slides into position...

 

ONE...

 

TWO...No! Magnifico kicks out at two and a half, drawing a few cheers from the crowd.

 

Riley: Seamless Belly-to-Belly from JD! Truly, a thing of beauty!

 

Undaunted, JD rolls off of ELM and grabs him by the arm, before standing up, dragging the luchadore up with him. Once Magnifico is standing, Dawg suddenly short-arms him, jerking the luchadore towards him and landing a stiff kick to his gut! ELM immediately doubles over, allowing JD to apply a Standing Head-Scissors and begin the set up for JD’s Revenge!! But when Jay grabs Magnifico’s arm, the luchadore suddenly jerks it free, then uses both hands to grab JD by the legs! ELM then lifts JD into the air and stands up, throwing Dawg upwards with a Back Body Drop! JD lands flat on his back, causing the ring to shake as the fans cheer Magnifico’s escape. Dawg quickly pops back to his feet and charges at Magnifico, but as he approaches, the luchadore knocks him back down with a stiff shot to the temple, drawing another pop from the crowd! Dawg pops back to his feet once more, but this time, ELM grabs him by the arm and attempt a whip. However, JD manages to reverse it, sending Magnifico rushing towards the far ropes. ELM bounces off the ropes and dashes back towards Jay, and as he approaches, JD grabs him around the waist and lifts the luchadore into the air, before driving him downward extending his knee, driving ELM’s crotch directly onto it! The fans wince in unison as Magnifico grabs his lower regions and doubles over in pain. This position allows JD to apply a Standing Head-Scissors and grab ELM around the waist, before lifting the luchadore into the air and onto his shoulders! Magnifico only remains there for a second, however, as JD suddenly throws ELM downwards, driving his neck and back forcefully into the canvas with a Powerbomb! Dawg looks down on the pain-wracked luchadore for a second, pleases with his work, before dropping to his knees and covering the luchadore nonchalantly. The ref slides into position and begins counting while JD hooks the leg and the fans begin to boo...

 

ONE...

 

TWO...No! Magnifico shoots his arm upwards at two and a half, getting his shoulder up.

 

Stevens: Damn! ELM manages to escape JD’s Revenge, only to be nailed with a Powerbomb Combo seconds later!

 

Riley: JD just proved that ELM’s struggling is futile! Sooner or latter, Dawggity Dawg will take Magnifico down!

 

JD rolls off of Magnifico and turns to the ref, visibly frustrated as he questions ol’ stripey’s call. The ref holds up three fingers and maintains his call, but by this time, Dawg is ignoring him, and has begun pulling Mag to his feet by pulling on his arm. Once ELM is standing, JD spins him around 180 degrees and applies a Rear Waistlock, before lifting Magnifico into the air and falling backwards, slamming his neck directly into the canvas with a German Suplex! The fans OOOH! in unison and begin to boo, but JD isn’t nearly finished, as he maintains the Waistlock and begins climbing back to his feet, towing ELM up with him! Once both men are standing, JD lifts Magnifico up once more and lands another vicious German Suplex, causing ELM to cradle his instinctively as the pain shoots through his skull. Dawg rests for a moment, exhausted from lifting Magnifico twice, then begins working his way to his feet once more, still holding onto the luchadore! JD moves a bit slower than last time, but eventually gets back to his feet, ready to nail ELM with a final Suplex! But when Jay tries to lift Magnifico a third time, he suddenly wraps his foot around JD’s ankle, preventing him from lifting ELM into the air! JD tries again, but Magnifico blocks once more, drawing a hopeful pop from the fans! But after ELM blocks a second time, JD releases one of his arms from the Waistlock, then proceeds to pound Magnifico on the neck with it, holding ELM up as he bashes away at his neck! After landing five blows, JD re-applies the Waistlock and quickly lifts Magnifico into the air, before falling back and slamming ELM’s neck into the mat with the most vicious Suplex yet! The fans break out into boos as JD floats over for the pin, hooking the leg as the ref slides into position...

 

ONE...

 

TWO...

 

TH-Noo! ELM gets his shoulder up right before three, silencing the boos and drawing relieved cheers from the audience.

 

Stevens: Magnifico put up a valiant fight, but JD was simply determined to land that last German Suplex, and ELM nearly lost the match because of it!

 

Riley: He’s just lucky that Jay isn’t feeling energetic tonight, or he would have broken out the Two-Dozen-Mega-German-Combo-O’-Doooom!!

 

Stevens: The Mega what now?

 

Riley: *sigh* Poor, old Stevens. You’re so out of it.

 

JD seems a bit more annoyed as he gets off of Magnifico, before he begins dropping knee’s on ELM’s chest, forcing him to withdraw in pain after each one is hit. Dawg lands five knee drops, getting more pissed after every one, before grabbing Magnifico by the arm and jerking him to his feet. JD then uses his grip to whip Magnifico across the ring, sending ELM rushing towards the far ropes. Magnifico bounces off of the ropes, but he suddenly comes to a halt as he wraps his arms around the top rope, preventing the bounce-back! But as soon as JD sees this, he charges across the ring, aiming himself directly at Magnifico! As Jay approaches, however, ELM suddenly grabs the top rope and jerks it downwards, causing JD to go tumbling over it to the outside! The fans cheer in unison as Dawg hits the floor awkwardly, landing on his neck and back and creating a sickening THUD! upon impact!

 

Stevens: JD lets his frustration get the better of him, allowing Magnifico to send him crashing to the outside!

 

ELM leans up against the ropes for a few seconds, still shaking off the impact of the German Suplexes, before standing up and turning towards JD. Jay begins struggling to his feet, and as Magnifico sees this, he suddenly bolts across the ring, headed towards the ropes furthest from JD! ELM bounces off of the ropes and rushes back towards JD, and as Magnifico approaches, he suddenly leaps into the air, soaring over the top rope! Magnifico extends his arms and legs in mid-air, crashing into JD with a Flying Cross-Body almost immediately after he stands! The fans pop in amazement as both men go tumbling to the ground, coming to a rest a few feet from one another as the ref begins to count.

 

Stevens: Incredible move from Magnifico, as he Crosses the Border and takes JD out with a Flying Cross-Body to the outside!

 

Riley: Bah, damn dirty flying Mexicans! I hope JD kicks ELM’s ass just for being touched by Magnifico’s flying filth!

 

The ref reaches two in his count before either man even stirs, and reaches three before they begin struggling to their feet almost simultaneously. At five, both men are at one knee, and at seven, they both lunge upwards and finally stand, drawing a relieved pop from the crowd. Magnifico and JD catch sight of each other as soon as they stand, and start approaching one another until the ref shouts out eight, dragging them back into the match. ELM and Jay glare at each other, broadcasting their hate and resentment for one another for the whole world to see...then simultaneously turn towards the ring and dive beneath the rope, breaking the ref’s count at nine! Magnifico and JD pop to their feet and immediately begin exchanging blows, trading punch after punch as the fans grow wild with excitement! Jay quickly takes control of the brawl, however, wearing Magnifico down with his stronger punches. JD lands three good shots in a row, backing ELM up into the corner and pushing him against the turnbuckles. With Magnifico against the corner, Jay wraps his hands around the luchadore throat and begins squeezing as hard as he can, pushing forward as he viciously chokes the luchadore! The boos immediately well up against JD as the ref quickly counts to three, before shouting at Dawg to release the hold. JD continues to choke for a few more seconds before finally releasing the luchadore, leaving Magnifico to choke for breath as he leans up against the turnbuckles. JD turns towards the ref and gets in his face, prompting a brief shouting match between the two before Dawg blows him off and turns back towards Magnifico. But as soon as JD turns back, ELM lunges forward and grabs him by the head, then spins around and throws Dawg into the corner, back-first! The fans cheer the turn in fate as Magnifico begins pounding away at a stunned JD, working Dawg’s skull with a series of quick punches! ELM lands about five good shots before Jay suddenly reaches out and claws Magnifico’s eyes, quickly putting an end to his assault! The fans’ reaction immediately switches to boos again as JD grabs the distracted luchadore around the waist and lifts him up, before spinning around and sitting him on the top turnbuckle!

 

Riley: Beautiful technique from JD, as he quickly re-assumes control of the match-

 

Stevens: Beautiful technique?! He raked Magnifico’s freaking eyes! How can you even consider that a technique?

 

Riley: Hey, who’s the wrestling expert around here?

 

Stevens: Me.

 

Riley: Exactly, so- hey, shut up!

 

Jay reaches up and delivers two quick blows to Magnifico’s face, stunning him further as JD begins climbing the ropes up towards him. Dawg quickly reaches the top rope, and upon arriving, he grabs Magnifico by the hair and cautiously stands him up on the top turnbuckle, careful to maintain both men’s balance. JD then delivers a boot to ELM’s gut, doubling him over slightly and allowing Jay to apply a Suplex hold on the top rope! Anticipatory boos begin to creep in from the audience as the JD remains on the top rope, struggling to keep his balance while he prepares to nail Magnifico with a Superplex! Finally, Jay lifts Magnifico in the air, but as he does so, ELM manages to slip out of his grasp! As soon as Magnifico is free, he slides down JD’s back and grabs him around the waist, before flipping over and landing on his feet, holding Jay in a semi-powerbomb position! Magnifico only holds that position for a second, however, as he immediately falls forward, slamming JD’s back and neck directly into the canvas with a Sunset Flip Powerbomb!! The fans burst into cheers and impressed applause as Dawg cradles his head in pain, before Magnifico drops to the mat and falls on top of him for the pin! ELM hooks the leg as the ref slides into position and begins counting, the crowd growing ever louder...

 

ONE...

 

TWO...No! JD gets a shoulder up at two and a half, silencing most of the cheering.

 

Stevens: Holy crap! JD almost lands a Superplex, but Magnifico reverses his attempt into the Tequila Sunrise at the last second and drives Jay straight to the mat with the Sunset Flip Powerbomb!!

 

Riley: And that’s ONE close fall compared to JD’s, um, twenty! Isn’t it sportsmanlike of Jay to allow Magnifico a ego boost every now and then?

 

Stevens: Oh yeah, he’s just oozing with sportsmanship, just like his Eye Rakes and choking.

 

ELM slowly rolls off of Dawg after the failed pinfall, resting on the mat momentarily as JD remains motionless next to him. After a second, Magnifico begins pushing himself back to his feet, leaving Jay on alone on the mat. The luchadore looks down on him for a second, breathing heavily...then heads towards the nearest corner and begins climbing it, to the delight of the crowd! ELM quickly reaches the top turnbuckle, standing up on it and turning away from the crowd as the fans grow even louder!

 

Stevens: And with JD temporarily incapacitated-

 

Riley: Whoo, big words!

 

Stevens:-Magnifico might be able to finish him off right here, with one well-placed aerial maneuver!

 

Magnifico looks down on JD, whose body is parallel to his own, while struggling to keep balance on the top rope. Suddenly, ELM leaps off of the top rope, turning his body 90 degrees in mid-air to make it perpendicular to JD’s! Thousands of flashbulbs light up the scene as Dawg rolls out of the way, leaving Magnifico to crash to the mat with a missed Frogsplash! A loud OHHHH! rises up from the stands as the luchadore bounces off of the mat, clutching his gut painfully and writhing in pain as he comes to a stop. A few feet next to him, JD lays motionless, seemingly still shaking off the Tequila Sunrise. But after a few seconds, JD suddenly sits up, seemingly unhurt as he grins an evil, pissed-off grin! The fans begin booing like crazy as Dawg slowly gets back to his feet and heads over to the luchadore, who is still rolling around on the mat in pain.

 

Stevens: Whoa! JD doesn’t seem the least bit hurt by the Tequila Sunrise! He might have been playing possum just to get him in position!

 

As JD approaches, he begins stomping away at Magnifico, almost as if trying to stomp him flat on the mat. After landing about ten stomps, Dawg quickly falls to the mat, his body perpendicular to the luchadore, before placing his leg over Magnifico’s thigh! The fans immediately begin booing as soon as they see this, and only grow louder when JD slides the other beneath ELM’s calf! Dawg then hooks both of his legs together above ELM’s knee, grabs Magnifico’s leg with his arm, and begins wrenching back on it, locking in the Dawg Trap!! Magnifico suddenly snaps to attention, crying out in pain and pushing himself off of the mat as JD tears apart his right leg with the Crucifix Kneebar!

 

Riley: Yes! JD is mere seconds away from winning the World Title, as Magnifico will soon tap out to the searing pain that is the Dawg Trap!!

 

Stevens: Thanks for the incisive commentary, Sir Melodrama! It is true that JD has Magnifico caught in the Dawg Trap, but ELM is very close to the ropes, and might be able to escape!

 

Riley: The hell he will! Pull harder, Dawg!

 

Magnifico falls back to the mat, pulling at his hair and doing anything he can to distract himself from the pain! Suddenly, seeing that ELM’s shoulders are on the mat, the ref falls to his knees and begins counting the pinfall!

 

ONE...

 

TWO-No! Magnifico pushes himself back off of the mat, avoiding the pinfall but intensifying the pain! ELM cries out once more as JD barks at him to tap out! Magnifico fails to respond, and instead begins stretching towards the ropes, desperate to break the hold! The fans start cheering, growing louder and louder as Magnifico stretches, cheering the luchadore on as he inches towards the ropes! ELM’s fingers are but a few inches away from the ropes...when JD lets go of Magnifico’s leg! Jay then uses his now-free hands to push on the mat, dragging himself and the luchadore away from the ropes! The cheering is almost immediately replaced by boos as JD reapplies his grip on ELM’s leg, drawing a third cry of pain from the luchadore!

 

Stevens: No! Magnifico was unable to break the hold, and it now seems that he’s at JD’s mercy!

 

JD grows angrier than ever, practically screaming at Magnifico to tap out as the luchadore does the best he can to resist the pain. Suddenly, ELM begins shifting his weight to one side, apparently trying to turn his body over! The fans spring back to life, cheering in support of the luchadore as a panicked JD does everything he can to prevent Magnifico from turning onto his stomach! Ever so slowly, ELM pushes off of the mat, eventually turning onto his side...and then falling onto his stomach! The fans release a relieved pop as JD, no longer able to extend Magnifico’s knee on the mat, grudgingly untangles his legs and releases the hold. However, Jay immediately jumps to his feet and begins stomping away wildly at the back of ELM’s knee, landing blow after blow as the luchadore pathetically tries to crawl away. After landing about ten good stomps, JD grabs Magnifico by the hair and painfully pulls him to his feet, ELM writhing under his grasp as he does so. Jay holds Magnifico in front of his face for a second, reveling in the luchadore’s pain and anguish. JD then grabs ELM by the leg and arm, lifts him into the air as if for a Scoop Slam, and begins carrying him over to the nearest corner. Upon reaching the corner, Jay lowers Magnifico’s legs onto the corner and ties them together, locking ELM in a Tree of Woe! The fans break out into another round of boos as JD stands in front of the helpless luchadore, laughing at his helplessness. ELM reaches out for JD nearly grabbing his leg...when Jay suddenly drives his foot forward, slamming it directly into Magnifico’s face! ELM’s hands rush to cover his face as the fans become extremely agitated, booing ever louder while a confident smirk comes over Jay’s face. JD approaches Magnifico, his hands locked together in a Double Axe Handle, and begins pounding away at ELM’ damaged and vulnerable right leg! The luchadore cries in pain as Jay continually whacks away at his knee, further injuring the Dawg Trap-weakened joint! After landing about five good blows, JD backs up a few steps, putting some space in between himself and Magnifico, then suddenly leaps into the air, kicking his feet out and slamming them into ELM’s knee with a Flipping Dropkick! The fans release a well-deserved OHHH! as Magnifico finally unhooks his legs, freeing himself and falling head-first to the mat while clutching his knee in pain!

 

Riley: JD is truly the Federation’s greatest strategist! Even though he couldn’t get ELM to tap out, his brutal punishment of that leg means that he’ll just have to apply the Dawg Trap once more for the win!

 

Stevens: You might actually be on to something, Riley. If Jay keeps this up, there’s no way Magnifico can survive another Dawg Trap!

 

As Magnifico lays on the mat, writhing in agony and clutching his knee, JD pops back to his feet, a sinister look of satisfaction on his face. Jay approaches ELM, grabs him by the arm, and slowly pulls him to his feet, hindered by Magnifico’s half-dead right leg. JD then uses his grip to whip ELM across the ring, sending Magnifico running-slash-limping towards the far ropes. Magnifico bounces of and rushes back towards JD, and as he approaches, Jay shoots his hands out and wraps them around ELM’s neck, before lifting him up into the air with a Hangman Choke! Magnifico kicks and struggles wildly as JD rolls his eyes to back of his head, accompanied by an eerie, evil smile. Boos pour in from every corner of the arena as Jay squeezes even harder, the luchadore’s face turning a light shade of blue as he does so. But before JD has the chance to choke the life out of Magnifico, ELM suddenly rears back with his left foot before driving it forward, slamming it into Jay’s crotch with a well-timed kick! The fans cheer the blatant Low Blow as Dawg immediately releases Magnifico, doubling over in pain as the luchadore lands on his feet. Once he lands, ELM throws his foot forward and slams it into JD’s chin, forcing Dawg to stand straight up from the force of the kick! With Jay upright, Magnifico grabs him by the arm, puts it into a Chicken Wing while spinning 360 degrees, then wraps his other arm around JD’s head, setting him up for Montezuma’s Revenge! ELM immediately drops to his knees, driving Jay’s chin into his shoulder with the Chicken Wing Jawbreaker! The fans release an excited pop as JD practically springs backwards, landing flat on the mat as Magnifico collapses a foot away from him, wracked with pain from landing on his injured knee. ELM lays motionless for a second, face-down and clutching his knee in pain, before he begins crawling towards JD, cheered on by every fan in the audience! Dragging his lifeless leg behind him, the luchadore finally reaches Jay, draping himself over the Canadian for the pinfall! A triumphant pop rises from the stands as the ref slides into position and begins counting...

 

ONE...

 

TWO...

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TH-Noo! JD throws his shoulder up right before three, drawing a disappointed OHHH! from the crowd and silencing the cheers.

 

Stevens: So close! Magnifico escapes the Hangman Choke and hits Montezuma’s Revenge, but it isn’t enough to put JD down for the count!

 

Riley: And you’re surprised by that?? This is the original no-selling bastard we’re talking about! He isn’t about to lie down for some craptastic twisty Jawbreaker thing!

 

Stevens: Then why did Magnifico get a near fall for it, hmmm?

 

Riley: Umm...JD’s just putting on the illusion of weakness! He’ll use it to suck ELM into his trap, and then finish him off! Whoo!

 

ELM slowly rolls off of JD, his chest heaving as he stares blankly up at the house lights. As Jay lays motionless on the mat, Magnifico rolls a little further, stopping next to the ropes and grabbing the bottom rope as he begins pulling himself to his feet. Magnifico slowly pulls himself upwards, his right knee struggling beneath the weight, until he finally stands, leaning up against the ropes for support. Meanwhile, JD begins struggling to his feet, still slightly stunned from Montezuma’s Revenge. Seeing this, ELM pushes himself off of the ropes and limps over to JD, who is just reaching one knee. Magnifico approaches JD and grabs him by the hair, slowly and painfully pulling him to his feet. Once Jay is standing, ELM delivers a half-hearted kick to his gut, doubling him over, and then applies a Front Face Lock to the delight of the crowd! But before the luchadore can do anything with it, JD suddenly wraps his arms around Magnifico’s waist, putting him in position for a Northern Lights Suplex! But instead of doing that, Jay instead opts to lift ELM into the air, slowly spin around, and then throw him down onto the ropes, crotching him on the center of the top rope! A collective wince rises from the audience as Magnifico’s mouth gapes upon in a soundless expression of pain. As ELM precociously balances on the rope, JD stands directly to his side, seemingly lining himself up with the luchadore. Suddenly, Jay affirms those fears, as he spins around and lashes out with his leg, driving it directly into Magnifico’s face with a Thai Roundhouse Kick!! The fans release a collective OOOOH! as ELM is knocked clear off of the top rope and falls to the ground, landing directly on his head! JD collapses against the corner behind him, looking out at the luchadore as he lays motionless on the outside.

 

Stevens: Holy crap!! JD smacks Magnifico off of the top rope, and ELM nearly breaks his neck as he hits the floor!

 

Riley: Beautiful brutality! Let’s see ELM get up from that!

 

Stevens: But if he doesn’t, JD can’t win the title! No Title can be exchanged on a count-out!

 

Riley:...shit! What the hell were you thinking, Jay?!

 

The ref steps up to the ropes and begins to count Magnifico out, shouting “ONE!” as JD pushes himself off out of the corner. Jay hits the mat and slowly rolls beneath the bottom rope, stepping to the outside as the ref reaches two. JD heads over to the luchadore and grabs him by the arm, slowly pulling the nearly-unconscious luchadore to his feet. Jay finally gets Magnifico to his feet at the count of four, then uses his grip to whip the ELM towards the steel post, which the luchadore runs into face-first, creating a loud WHACK! as he falls to the ground! Another round of boos pour in from the audience as JD heads back over to Magnifico at the count of six and grabs him by the hair, before painfully pulling him to his feet and rolling the limp luchadore into the ring. JD follows in soon after, breaking the count, and then covering Magnifico! Right after JD covers, however, he lifts his feet and puts them on the middle rope, using it for extra leverage! The fans boo the blatant cheating which escapes the eye of the referee as he slides down to the mat and begins counting...

 

ONE...

 

TWO...

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THR-Nooo! Magnifico gets a shoulder up regardless, silencing the boos and drawing a relieved pop from the crowd! JD takes his feet off of the ropes and rolls off of Magnifico, before angrily shouting at the referee and questioning the intelligence of his count.

 

Stevens: Oh my God, Magnifico’s still in it! Even with JD cheating to get extra leverage, ELM still managed to break the pin!

 

Riley: Cheating?? How dare you, good sir! JD is the very pinnacle of sportsmanship! Why-

 

Stevens: Riley...

 

Riley: Sorry.

 

Dawg argues with the ref for a little bit, using quite a few expletives in the process, before realizing that the whole exercise is pointless and slowly pushing himself back to his feet. JD delivers a few stomps to the motionless Magnifico, then backs a few steps away from him, allowing ELM to get back to his feet and putting some room between them. JD relentlessly taunts the luchadore, shouting at him to get up as Magnifico begins struggling to his feet. ELM slowly reaches one knee before finally standing up, collapsing against the ropes and facing away from JD as he does so. Dawg impatiently stands behind Magnifico, just waiting for him to turn around and finish him off.

 

Stevens: It looks like JD is setting ELM up for one final Thai Roundhouse kick! If he lands this, Magnifico is as good as done!

 

The crowd begins to shout and yell at the luchadore, warning him in their own way about JD’s presence. However, Magnifico is, of course, completely oblivious to this, and still pushes himself off of the ropes, turning towards Jay as he does so. At that instant, JD spins around and lashes out with his leg, aiming at Magnifico’s skull with a Thai Roundhouse kick! However, ELM manages to duck beneath the kick, taking a few steps back from JD as Dawg spins around to face him! When JD comes face-to-face with Magnifico, the luchadore greets him by sidestepping towards Jay and throwing his foot into the air for a Superkick! But before Magnifico’s foot can make impact, JD reaches out and grabs ELM by the ankle, blocking the kick! As the luchadore bounces on one foot, Dawg releases one of his hands, extends it towards Magnifico...and raises the middle finger.

 

Stevens: Uh oh.

 

JD then throws Magnifico’s leg to one side, spinning him around 180 degrees and away from Jay! Once ELM comes to a halt, Jay comes up form behind and wraps his arm around Magnifico’s neck, trapping him in an Inverted Facelock! The fans immediately break out into a storm of booing as JD holds ELM in that position, a sick grin coming over his face.

 

Stevens: Dammit, JD has Magnifico set up for the Final Thought! Jay’s pulling one of his old finishers out of retirement to finish ELM off!

 

Riley: Whee! World Title, here we come!

 

Dawg holds Magnifico in the Inverted Facelock for a few more seconds...then spins around, converting it into a ¾ Facelock for the Final Thought! But the second JD does that, Magnifico pushes him violently from behind, breaking the hold and sending Dawg rushing towards the ropes! Jay bounces off and rushes back towards Magnifico, and as he approaches, the luchadore wraps his feet around Dawg’s ankles, tripping him up with a Drop Toe Hold! As JD falls, Magnifico shoots his hands out and locks them across Jay’s face, capturing him in the Sangria Stretch as both men hit the mat!! JD’s immediate cry of pain as Magnifico wrenches backwards on his neck is nearly drowned out by the overwhelming cheers that pour in from every corner of the arena!

 

Stevens: No! No! Magnifico managed to reverse JD’s Final Thought, instead turning it into his own Sangria Stretch!

 

The ref slides in front of JD and asks him if he wants to quit, for which he receives a hearty “FUCK YOU!” for his troubles, before Jay cries out in pain once again. JD desperately claws at Magnifico’s hands, desperately trying to break the hold, but Magnifico responds by simply wrenching back even harder, sending another jolt of pain through Jay’s body! JD shoots his hand out, desperately reaching out for anything to help him, as the fans grow even louder in anticipation of a tap-out! Not finding anything to help him out, Dawg’s hand hovers over the mat, seemingly ready to tap it wildly and give up!

 

Riley: No!! Fight it, damn you! Magnifico can’t beat you with a submission!

 

Stevens: It looks like he’s about to, Riley! JD is stranded in the middle of the ring, and seems to have no way of escaping!

 

JD’s hand continues floating over the mat as Jay mulls over whether to submit to the pain of keep fighting! Suddenly, Jay shoots his hand upwards, and begins driving it down, when...Magnifico releases the hold! JD stops his hand from hitting the mat a split-second before impact, saving himself from tap-out as ELM rolls away from him, clutching his knee!

 

Stevens: Dammit, Magnifico was so close! The pressure on his legs necessary to maintain the Sangria Stretch must have been too much for his damaged knee to handle!

 

The somewhat confused crowd begins to boo as Magnifico turns onto his stomach and starts pushing himself to his feet, severely slowed down by his injured right knee. By the time Magnifico does stand, Jay has already begun rising to his feet, reaching his hands and knees as ELM reaches his feet. Magnifico stands above JD for a moment, breathing heavily and suffering slightly from exhaustion, before making his way over to the Dawg, stepping behind him as he reaches one knee! ELM waits patiently behind JD, lingering behind Jay as he finally pushes himself to his feet with one last burst of effort. The very second Dawg stands, Magnifico spins around, reaches back, and hooks JD’s arms as if for a Backslide! The fans burst into cheers as ELM runs-slash-limps over to the nearest corner, ready to put Jay away with a Baja California Crusher!

 

Stevens: Here it is! Can Magnifico land the Baja California Crusher, and finish JD once and for all?

 

Riley: Hell no! ELM doesn’t have chance of winning with that stupid flippy driver thing!

 

As Magnifico approaches the corner, he starts running up the turnbuckles, before pushing off of the top turnbuckle to flip over JD’s head! But as ELM does so, he suddenly lets out a cry of pain, as pushing off of the turnbuckle put undue pressure on Magnifico’s knee! The jolt of pain running through ELM’s body prevents him from flipping over, and instead he just lands on feet-first on the mat, still gripping JD as his knee collapses beneath him! However, Magnifico is soon jerked back to a standing position, as Jay suddenly pulls ELM upwards, and then lifts him into the air and onto his shoulders, as if for a Razor’s Edge! The fans immediately unleash a wave of boos as JD takes a step forward...and falls to his knees, slamming Magnifico’s head and neck directly into the canvas with the Razor’s Edge!! Magnifico unceremoniously falls to the mat, lying face-up and motionless as Jay drapes himself over the luchadore for the pin! The fans’ booing only grows louder than ever as the ref slides into position, beginning his count as JD hooks the leg...

 

ONE...

 

TWO...

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THRE-Nooo!! Magnifico gets his shoulder up a split second before the three count, drawing a massive pop from the surprised fans!

 

Stevens: No! ELM is still in it! Even after failing twice to finish JD off and taking the full brunt of the Razor’s Edge, Magnifico will just not stay down!

 

Riley: Dammit! JD, stop screwing around and finish this once and for all!

 

JD rolls off of Magnifico, a severely pissed-off look coming over his face as he does so. Jay immediately begins climbing back to his feet, moving as fast as he can as ELM remains motionless on the mat. JD finally stands and heads over to Magnifico, grabbing him by the hair and lifting him off the mat. Jay bgins pulling Magnifico to his feet, and as the luchadore stands, JD lifts his hand and slowly draws it across his neck, performing the universal cutthroat gesture for all to see!

 

Riley: Yeah, like that! Finish him!

 

The fans break out into the strongest round of boos yet as JD looks out over them with complete disdain. Suddenly, Jay turns back to Magnifico and boots him in the gut, doubling ELM over directly in front of him! JD then applies a Standing Head-Scissors, grabs Magnifico by the arms, and crosses them across his own neck, completing the setup for JD’s Revenge!

 

Stevens: No! No! If JD hits this, Magnifico has no chance of leaving tonight as the World Champion! C’mon Mag, fight it!

 

Jay holds ELM in that position for a few seconds, reveling in the moment and the fact that he has Magnifico completely at his mercy. Finally, JD begins lifting Magnifico into the air, until the luchadore’s

Body is parallel to his own, apparently for the much more painful variation of JD’s Revenge! However, before Dawg can complete his finisher, Magnifico suddenly throws his legs onto JD’s shoulders and hooks them around his neck! ELM immediately uses his grip to pull himself upwards, breaking JD’s grip on his arms as he does so, using all his strength and fighting through the pain to draw himself up onto JD’s shoulders! The surprised fans cheer Magnifico on as he begins pounding away at JD’s skull, stunning Jay with blow after desperate blow! After landing ten good punches, ELM applies a Front Face Lock, before pushing his legs off of JD’s shoulders and spinning around, falling flat on his back and driving JD’s head directly into the mat with a Tornado DDT! Magnifico remains on the mat after landing the DDT, lying but a few feet from JD as the exhaustion and pain overtake his body. The fans, now at their loudest, cheer in support of the luchadore as the ref begins to count both men out.

 

Stevens: Amazing! Magnifico used his last burst of energy to counter JD’s Revenge, nailing him with a Tornado DDT in the process! He might still have a chance!

 

Neither man stirs as the ref slowly counts, reaching three before Magnifico stirs, followed by JD a second later. ELM begins to push himself to his feet, reaching his hands and knees at five, and reaching one knee at seven, JD always a second behind the luchadore. Finally, Magnifico manages to stumble to his feet, barely keeping his balance as JD does the same in front of him, turned away from the luchadore. Unwittingly, Jay turns around, coming face-to-face with Magnifico...and receives a boot to the gut for his troubles, as ELM kicks him right in the stomach and doubles Jay over! Magnifico then applies a Standing Head-Scissors and grabs JD’s arms, crossing them across his own neck as the fans go wild in anticipation!

 

Riley: He-he can’t do that!! That’s JD’s move, for God’s sake!

 

Stevens: Oh yes he can!! Magnifico has JD set up for his own finisher!

 

Magnifico holds JD in position for a few seconds, summoning up the strength to pull off the move...then suddenly jumps into the air, lifting Jay up with him for JD’s Revenge!! Thousands of flashbulbs light up the scene, seemingly keeping ELM suspended in mid-air....before Magnifico falls onto his knees, slamming JD’s skull into the canvas with JD’s Revenge!! The only sound that can be heard is the joyous cheering coming from the fans, which only grows louder as Magnifico releases JD’s arms, grabs him by the shoulder, and turns him onto his stomach! ELM then covers/falls onto JD, drawing the ref down to count the pinfall! Nearly every fan counts along with the ref as he slaps the mat for the count...

 

ONE...

 

TWO....

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THREEEE!! The cheers grow completely deafening, even drowning out the ring bell as it’s rung!

 

DING DING DING

 

Funyon: Ladies and gentlemen, your winner, by pinfall, and STILL the SWF World Heavyweight Champion...El Luchadooooooorre Magnificooooooooo!!

 

Magnifico slowly rolls off of JD, his eyes closed and his chest heaving, but nevertheless, smiling an ecstatic, victorious smile. The ref rolls beneath the bottom rope and goes to get the World Title as ELM slowly begins pushing himself back to his feet, leaving Jay alone on the mat.

 

Stevens: He did it!! He did it!! I can’t believe it, but Magnifico has survived this match and is still World Heavyweight Champion!

 

Riley: That was absolute bullshit!! Magnifico can’t hit JD with his own finisher, it’s-it’s...blasphemous, that’s what it is!

 

Stevens: Well, since Magnifico couldn’t get the win with his own finishers, he simply took a page out of JD’s book and did that, instead!

 

Riley: Blasphemy! Dirty Godless luchadore, you’ll pay for this!!

 

The ref retrieves the World Title and rolls back into the ring, popping to his feet with the belt in hand. With his free hand, the ref helps Magnifico to stand, slowly bringing the luchadore to his feet. Once ELM is standing, he stumbles backwards and collapses against the ropes, doing all he can to keep himself standing. The ref hands him the World Title, and as Magnifico slowly accepts it, he grabs the luchadore’s arm and lifts it into the air, signifying his victory and drawing another pop from the crowd. Magnifico thrusts his other arm into the air, holding up the World Title with an invincible grin on his face.

 

Stevens: What a night! Ladies and gentlemen, this has truly been a show for the record books, but we’re out of time! I’m Mark Stevens, that’s Bobby Riley, g’night! Tune into Storm!

 

The final image of Genesis II broadcasted is El Luchadore Magnifico, pushing himself off of the ropes and standing triumphant in the ring, the World Title held high above his head...

[Guest BA_Baracus]

2/3 FALLS MATCH

CIA vs. Mak Francis

- Mak Francis gets his first SWF win.

 

TAG TEAM TITLE MATCH

Frost & Taylor Nicholas Thompson © vs. Ash Ketchum & Xero

- Frost and TNT harness the forces of cheating and tomfoolery to retain the titles!

 

HARDCORE MATCH

Jay Dawg © vs. Ced Ordonez

- Jay Dawg doesn't show up, so Mercury is inserted in his place...but the match is still for the hardcore title, which Ced wins. Uhhh, right...makes perfect sense.

 

US TITLE MATCH

Tod deKindes © vs. Annie Eclectic

- Sa-weet...the Dusty finish comes to the SWF! Match ends in a draw.

 

VANCOUVER STREETFIGHT

Divefire vs. Chris Wilson

- Wilson gets the win in his final match and absolutely kills Divefire thanks to...[stubby's computer crashes.]

 

NO-DQ, NO INTERFERENCE MATCH FOR THE #1 CONTENDERSHIP OF THE SWF HEAVYWEIGHT TITLE

Axis vs. Sacred

- The smaller, crazier Australian beats the larger, saner one...then Pilminizes him! Woo!

 

LAST MAN STANDING MATCH

Chris Raynor vs. Edwin MacPhisto

- Whoa, now that's how to write the finish to a match.

 

ICTV TITLE MATCH

Perfect Bo © vs. ?

- Your winner, and new ICTV champ...Tom Flesher!

 

HELL IN A CELL

Silent vs. Thoth

- Thoth survives the cage and gets the win.

 

SWF HEAVYWEIGHT TITLE MATCH

El Luchadore Magnifico © vs. ?

- Who did Magnifico face? Did he win? Read the match!