The Post Your Shittiest Match Thread

[Guest Ace309]

It has come to my attention that everyone thinks that I no-showed the US Title to TNT back in August when I strained my rotator cuff. Oh, no, no, no. I've never no-showed per se. I just sent in such a shitty match with such pointless character regression that I was bound to lose.

 

And there we are.

 

====================

 

The camera zooms in on the exterior of Madison Square Garden in New York City, then focuses on the marquee. It reads, "TONIGHT - SWF Smarkdown, Tickets Still Available. TOMORROW - The Midnight Carnival: The Haiku, SOLD OUT!" As the camera circles around the building, we hear "Grand Slam" Mark Stevens in voice-over.

 

"Madison Square Garden. Home to the legendary workers of the Northeast territories in the sixties, seventies and eighties. Then, for a long time, it was the home of a small independent promotion known variously as the WWWF, WWF and WWE. Despite being centred around big, muscular men who have no wrestling talent - and here we mean Cutthroat's lack of talent, as opposed to HVille Thugg's lack of technical skill - the WWE has finally taken off, and tonight, the SWF INVADES M... S... G!"

 

The camera angle cuts to an inside shot, where the fans are on their feet cheering. They burst into their traditional chant of "GRAND SLAM! GRAND SLAM!" as various fans are shown on the SmarkTron, wearing t-shirts for the Magnificent Seven and Midnight Carnival, with one dedicated Z fan wearing a smiley face t-shirt and a camouflage jacket. Other fans are shown holding signs that say "Annie Eccentric," "Climbing The Ladder To Mediocrity" and "Jay Dawg Hazed This Sign" (below which is torn a large hole, with a drawing of a bottle of baby oil next to it). Finally, the camera zooms in on the SmarkTron, which shows a large metal ladder unfolding. The US Title drops slowly from the top of the screen, dangling above the ladder, and photos of Tom Flesher on the left and TNT on the right appear. Below the pictures, the words "LADDER MATCH - US TITLE - TOM VS TNT" scroll across the screen, and the fans pop for the title defense.

 

Grand Slam says, "Welcome back to SWF Smarkdown for Monday, August 5, 2002! We're in the world-famous Madison Square Garden, host to some of the top sports events of the twentieth century!"

 

"Yeah," interrupts Bobby, "Like when Bugs Bunny beat The Crusher!"

 

"That was Madison ROUND Garden, you idiot. You have to take the subway to get there."

 

"And speaking of the subway, tonight we're going to have a ladder match!"

 

Steven looks confused. "What does that have to do with the subway?"

 

"Jesus, man, do I have to draw you a picture?" Riley sighs a big, exaggerated sigh. "Anyways, tonight, we have a ladder match featuring-"

 

"Bobby, the subway has NOTHING to do with a ladder match."

 

Riley leans over and whispers into Stevens' ear, "Ix-nay on the othing-nay." Stevens looks at him, confused, and finally sighs and decides to move along on his own volition. "We have a ladder match tonight, featuring the United States Champion, Tom Flesher-"

 

"I believe you mean the Unified United States Light Heavyweight Champion, 'The Superior One' Tom Flesher, Mark."

 

"... defending against Taylor Nicholas Thompson, eager to establish himself as a force in the singles ranks in the absence of his Magnificent Seven partner, Frost. It's a classic story of both men having something to gain. TNT, obviously, can dethrone Flesher and become the US Champion while cementing his place in the singles ranks, whereas Flesher is hoping to remain a strong double champion. Two young stallions, 22 and 21 years old, face off for the United States Championship in a ladder match! Let's go to Funyon!"

 

Funyon enters the ring, tuxedoed as always, and holds the microphone up to his mouth. "Ladies and gentlemen, and especially members of the Mafia, this next match is scheduled for one fall, and it is a LADDER MATCH! The US Title has been suspended twenty feet above the ring, and a sixteen-foot ladder has been set up on the ramp. And now, making his way to the ring...."

 

The crowd boos like a mo' fo' as a few "Oy's" signal the inauguration of AC/DC's "TNT." Suddenly, the entrance curtains begin to ruffle as a dark figure emerges from the backstage area. The figure steps into the sea of red and orange strobelights, and is illuminated by them, revealed as Taylor Nicholas Thompson. The letters "T-N-T" flash across the Smarktron and just as a resounding "Watch me exploooooooooooode!!!!!" echoes throughout the arena, and the hulking mass that is Taylor Thompson briskly strides down the aisleway. He stops to acknowledge the booing fans, when, all of a sudden...

 

 

 

"Oh my god! Did you see that?"

 

"My monitor went out."

 

 

 

TOM FLESHER jumps TNT from behind, dropkicking him in the pit of the left knee and catching him completely by surprise! The music stops abruptly as Flesher, with the Light Heavyweight Title wrapped around his waist, gets back to his feet and immediately drops an elbow into the soft back of TNT's knee! In the ring, Funyon shrugs and exits the ring. Forgetting to turn the mic off, he can be heard over the loudspeaker to mutter, "At least there's no damn index card tonight."

 

"Flesher jumped TNT from behind! What a coward!"

 

"Mark, how does that make him a coward? Tom Flesher is so incredibly brave to attack TNT from behind. It's like running up and tipping a cow over in the middle of the night! Except the cow generally smells better than TNT."

 

"Bobby, sometimes I wonder about you."

 

"Seriously, Mark, Flesher had to attack TNT because he's obviously the more intelligent of the two athletes. He's coming off an injury, and in this style of match he's at a distinct disadvantage to the strong brawler, who will try to just beat him to a bloody pulp. Therefore, he has to take advantage of the no-disqualification nature of the match in order to succeed."

 

Stevens is speechless. "Bobby... that was... intelligent!"

 

Riley, though, is completely oblivious to Grand Slam's remark, instead muttering "mmm... suck seed...."

 

Flesher grabs TNT by the leg and starts to drag him toward the ring, but the enormous Magnificent Seven member kicks away and gets back to his feet. The two workers slug it out for a few moments before TNT grabs Flesher by his left wrist and yanks him forward. Flesher lets out a high-pitched scream, and a sadistic smile spreads across Thompson's face. With one quick jerking motion, he whips Flesher into the ladder. On impact, Flesher staggers backwards and falls to the concrete, holding his left arm.

 

"Bobby," says Grand Slam, "I don't think Flesher's fully recovered from the beating he took en route to becoming the SWF Light Heavyweight Champion. He's quite clearly favoring his left arm."

 

"Of course he is, Stevens. He hurt it pretty bad when he bumped into that door this morning."

 

"Bumped into a door?"

 

"Yeah, that's how he injured it."

 

"Oh, right. And I bet El Luchadore Magnifico had NOTHING to do with injuring him."

 

"That's a safe bet, alright." Riley nods with an air of finality.

 

TNT grabs Flesher and throws him into the ring, then folds up the ladder and slides it under the bottom rope. Flesher regains his footing just as TNT enters the ring for the first time. He quickly removes the Light Heavyweight belt and slings it into the corner, then spins around and meets the oncoming TNT with another dropkick to the knee. He lands awkwardly on his side, hitting the arm again as TNT collapses to the mat, and both men immediately start to get back to their feet. Stevens notes, "Both men seem to be taking the obvious route here, with Flesher going with his standard legwork and TNT working the sore arm that the Superior One has been nursing for the past week. It'll be interesting to see how the ladder figures in."

 

Flesher gets to his feet and sees TNT moving toward him. He immediately starts to back away from the gigantic powderkeg, trying to shake his arm out before making contact again. TNT chases him down, only to be met with a stiff kick to the knee. TNT, surprised, doesn't respond, and so Flesher throws another kick, once again nailing TNT in the left kneecap. With the big man tottering, Flesher rears back and thrusts his palm forward, aiming for TNT's nose...

 

but TNT catches his arm, then drops down and tosses him overhead in a belly-to-belly suplex! Flesher crashes down to the mat, literally causing the ring to shake with the force of TNT's throw. Flesher hits hard, but rolls through onto his stomach and starts to shake the cobwebs off. With a free moment, TNT picks up the sixteen-foot ladder and sets it up in the middle of the ring. He immediately starts to climb the ladder, but looks over and sees Flesher moving. With that, he jumps back down to the mat, intent on brutalizing his opponent to the point where he can no longer interfere.

 

TNT grabs Flesher's arm, once again ready to wrench it and whip him into the ladder. Just as TNT starts the wrenching motion, though, Flesher lunges forward and nails him in the face with a shotei! TNT staggers backwards, and Flesher steps forward to hit his adversary in the face with a second palm strike! With that, he whips TNT into the corner. As TNT rebounds out, Flesher takes two quick steps forward and plants his Doc Marten right in his opponent's face with a vicious Yakuza kick! The Magnificent Seven representative collapses to the mat, and Flesher immediately turns to face the ladder.

 

"Flesher can't possibly be thinking of going for the title this early in the match," says Stevens disbelievingly. "He's barely neutralized TNT at all."

 

"Yeah, but he's superior."

 

Flesher climbs up a foot, and another one, and so on until he's about ten feet up the ladder. He leaps off the ladder, pumps his legs into the air and comes down hard, nailing TNT in the sternum with a Doc Marten-loaded double stomp! TNT goes completely motionless, the wind knocked out of him, as Flesher stumbles into a corner to shake off the impact. Almost immediately, he heads back toward the ladder and starts climbing up.

 

"Look at him go!" says Riley as Flesher climbs the ladder. "Even with only one good arm!"

 

"The arm isn't going to pose as much of a problem as you'd think," says Stevens. "Flesher can actually climb the ladder well with only one arm by supporting most of the weight on his other side. TNT will have a much harder time with only one leg."

 

"Told you he was superior!"

 

Flesher gets closer to the top of the ladder as TNT starts to get back to his feet. By the time Flesher reaches halfway up, TNT is on his feet and shoves the ladder over! Flesher holds on to the steps, but still hits the canvas hard and lands awkwardly on his left arm. With that, TNT makes a quick clapping motion for himself and grabs Flesher's arm once again, twisting and wrenching it to keep him on the mat. Flesher screams out loud as TNT torques the standing armbar, flailing wildly to try to break the hold. Losing his presence of mind for a moment, Flesher extends his legs and locks them around the bottom rope, hoping to break the hold. "But there are no disqualifications!" says Stevens. "Flesher can hold the ropes for as long as he likes, but TNT won't have to break the hold!"

 

"That's a disgusting abuse of the stipulation!" shouts Riley. "TNT should be thrown out of the building right now!"

 

With that, Flesher makes one last-ditch effort to break the hold by shooting his right arm up into the air. He twists his body, taking the left arm off to a worse angle for a moment but sacrificing that extra second of torque to land an incredibly evil hit to the groin! TNT immediately releases the armbar and doubles over as Flesher rolls away to nurse his arm. He seats himself in the corner and starts to riffle through the cargo pockets on his jeans.

 

"Oh no... what do you think he's looking for?" asks Stevens.

 

"His cell phone, so he can call his girlfriend and ask her to get some extra Motrin at the store," replies Bobby confidently. With that, Flesher pulls out...

 

"Oh god. I think I'm going to be sick, Bobby."

 

Flesher stands up to his full height, then thrusts his arm into the air, revealing...

 

 

 

"THE ICEPICK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" Bobby Riley nearly pees himself, thrilled at the prospect of Flesher bringing back his old weapon.

 

A moment or two goes by.

 

"Bobby," says Mark suspiciously, "What's that smell?"

 

 

 

 

Oh, did I say 'nearly' pees himself?

 

 

 

 

Flesher holds the icepick high into the air, and almost immediately a few fans in the corner section burst into a chant of "DUR-AN-DAL! DUR-AN-DAL!" Flesher turns around to acknowledge the small cluster of fans in black So Says The Clan t-shirts, and throws his head back to blow a cloud of black mist high into the air! The cheering section jumps to their feet, and the rest of the crowd bursts into an absolute chorus of boos.

 

"Could we be seeing a return to Flesher's old persona?"

 

"I hope not. I love this kid!"

 

Flesher brandishes the icepick for the crowd once more, then turns around to prey on the stunned TNT.

 

What he's not counting on, though, is walking right into a lariat to the face.

 

"He took too much time! He let TNT recover! TNT is back with a vengeance!"

 

Riley replies, "Bah. Flesher's just making it look interesting."

 

Looking very interesting, Flesher falls hard to the mat, and the icepick bounces up and lands on the ring apron. The Superior One rolls over and desperately grabs at it, but TNT quickly stops that line of thinking by stomping down on Flesher's left arm. With that, Flesher recoils in pain and rolls away as TNT sets the ladder back up.

 

"TNT's going for the belt," says Stevens. "He's climbing the ladder!"

 

"Tell us something we don't know, jackass."

 

"Bobby Riley is wearing ladies' underwear."

 

"HEY! As we've discussed, that's PURELY a comfort thing."

 

"True, and anyway, I'd bet most of the home viewers figured that already anyway."

 

TNT starts up the ladder, but before he can get much further than halfway up, Tom Flesher pulls himself up using the ropes and starts scaling the ladder behind him! With each step that TNT makes up the ladder, Flesher makes two, until finally he manages to get behind the explosive adversary! He wraps the left arm around TNT's waist and reaches up, hammering him in the back of the head with two stiff palm strikes! As Thompson slumps forward onto the ladder, Flesher wraps his arms around his waist, plants his feet on the ladder, and arches back.

 

Falling...

 

 

 

falling...

 

 

 

 

CRASH! German suplex off the ladder! Neither man is moving!

 

"God, TNT may be DEAD!" shouts Stevens, obviously stunned.

 

"FORGET TNT, WHAT ABOUT FLESHER?!" Riley, as is to be expected, is grief-stricken.

 

The two combatants lay on the mat for what seems like an eternity. Riley and Stevens sit silent, unable to formulate a proper response to the vicious suplex Flesher threw or the impact that both men suffered. Finally, after a long pause, Flesher starts moving! He rolls to his stomach, and starts to crawl toward the ladder!

 

"Look at that little Greco nut go!" shouts Riley.

 

"But wait! TNT's moving!"

 

Sure enough, TNT has rolled to his stomach and, using his powerful arms, pulls himself over to the opposite side of the ladder. Flesher climbs up a step... TNT climbs up two. With each passing second, each man gets closer and closer to the top of the ladder...

 

one step at a time...

 

one rung....

 

until finally, Flesher reaches the top only half a second before TNT does! The two rivals stand on top of the ladder, and before they even know what they're doing, they break into a slugfest! TNT nails a chop into Flesher's neck, but it's not enough to keep Tom from hitting him with a stiff shotei! Another chop... DODGED! Flesher throws a second shotei, and TNT starts teetering on the edge of the ladder!

 

"No!" Stevens, stunned, can't formulate a proper response. "... NO! Don't do it!"

 

"DO IT!!!!! DO IT!!!!!!"

 

With that, Flesher swings back and nails TNT with one last enormous palm strike! TNT falls backwards, ready to slam into the mat... but he grabs the ladder! Dangling from the side, TNT falls, dropping relatively safely to the mat. In one quick motion, just as Flesher gets to the top of the ladder, TNT pushes it off to the side!

 

 

Flesher leaps off the top step of the ladder!

 

 

The ladder crashes to the mat!

 

 

FLESHER REACHES UP AND GRABS THE US TITLE!!!!!! He looks down, sees the ring twenty feet below, and looks absolutely terrified. TNT, unable to think of any way to prevent the inevitable, turns beet read and starts screaming at Flesher to let go of the belt!

 

The Superior One reaches up, unfastens the belt and closes his eyes before dropping into a fast free-falling descent to the canvas! He makes sure to touch both feet to the mat and hold tight to the belt, landing in control and possession!

 

 

DING DING DING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

 

Funyon declares, "The winner of this match, and STILL your double champion, 'The Superior One' Tom Flesher!" The fans boo loudly, except for a minor core section that cheer the sick bump Flesher just took to keep his belt. TNT, of course, is not among this section, and immediately starts to put the boots to Flesher. He stomps away at Flesher's body, the wind knocked completely out of him, as referees and road agents run out from the back.

 

"Stop him!" says Stevens, clearly upset despite his hatred for Flesher. "This is unnecessary! TNT is insane!"

 

"And Flesher's superior."

 

"Oh, shut up!"

 

Finally, the crew pulls Thompson off Flesher and escorts him to the back. "I Am The Man" by the Philosopher Kings begins to play over the PA, and the officials help Flesher to his feet. Matthew Kivell hands Tom his Light Heavyweight belt, and they pull him to the outside to carry him back. As they exit the ring, he tells them to stop.

 

 

He slowly turns around and carefully, deliberately picks up his icepick.

 

 

Slightly shocked, Stevens says, "Ladies and gentlemen, Tom Flesher is serious about keeping his title belts, and his threatened use of that icepick against TNT, who was already battered from War Games, proved it...

 

I don't think we've seen the last of this side of Flesher."

 

Fade.

[Guest El Luchadore Magnifico]

Oooh, fun.

 

*goes searching for first match*

 

Here it is! 1,149 words of absolute n00bish crap.

 

"Welcome, Ladies and Gentlemen, to IGNJL Metal! This is Ben H, alongside me is the Nervous Sheep, and we're ready to call another exciting edition of Metal!"

The Mexican national anthem hits the speakers, and El Luchador Magnifico comes out waving a Mexican flag.

"At 5'11, weighing in at 190 pounds, from Mexico City, El Luchador Magnifico!"

"And here comes El Luchador Magnifico for his first match in the JL." says Nervous sheep. "He will take on the Rage tonight."

 

"What a jerk this guy is! Did you see the way he treated me during his promo?". Sheep slaps him across the head. "Show respect, Ben! This man is the champion of Mexico! He is here to educate us in the art of wrestling!" Sheep exclaims. Ben rolls his eyes.

All of a sudden, the speakers scream, "ARE YOU READY?" Missles shoot from the ceiling, exploding on the stage, as flames rise from the stage. "Bulls on parade" hits the speakers as the Rage comes out. "And now, at 6 feet, weighing in at 200 pounds, from San Diego, the Rage!" He slowly walks into the ring. The ring announcer offers him the mike, but Rage just stares at him. The announcer backs down. Magnifico looks at Rage suspicously in the corner.

 

The match starts off with Rage staring intently at Magnifico. Magnifico reaches for him, but gets kicked in the stomach. Rage kicks him a few more times, then whips him into the ropes. Magnifico ducks the chop, then leapfrogs over Rage. Rage turns around and eats a spinning wheel kick. Magnifico makes a quick cover for two.

Magnifico brings Rage up, then chops him into the ropes. Magnifico whips Rage into the ropes, Magnifico tries for a huricannrana, but Rage ducks under him and hits a flying shoulder block off the ropes.

"Fast-paced action to start this match." exclaims Ben H.

"Good series of reversals from both men." replies Sheep.

Back in the ring, Rage is bringing Magnifico to his feet. Rage punches Magnifico in the face a few times, then whips him into the corner. Rage charges at him, but Magnifico jumps over him and executes a quick sunset flip for two. Magnifico gets up before Rage and hits a quick snap suplex on him. Magnifico goes to the second turnbuckle and hits a quick leg drop. Magnifico goes for the cover, but gets two.

"Magnifico is just too quick for Rage to get a handle on him."says Ben H.

Magnifico brings Rage to his feet again, but gets punched in the stomach by Rage. Rage bounces off the ropes, ducks a clothesline, and nails Magnifico with a superkick. He covers for two. Rage brings Magnifco to his feet , whips him into the ropes and hits a huge spinebuster. Magnifico bounces off the mat and writhes in pain as Rage goes for a cover. 1....2...Kick out.

"Near fall for Rage. He almost had Magnifico with that awesome spinebuster." says Sheep.

Rage brings Magnifico to his feet, but Magnifico knees him in the gut, sets up for a piledriver, but instead hits a backslide for a quick two. Magnifico takes control and whips him into the corner.Chop. WHOO!Chop.WHOO! Magnifico begins setting Rage up for a frankensteiner. He puts Rage on the top turnbuckle and climbs up, Magnifico goes for the frankensteiner, but it's reversed into a top-rope sitting powerbomb! 1....2.....kick out!

"Great move from Rage! I can't believe Magnifico kicked out!" exclaims Ben H. " I told you, Ben, he's a champion! Champions don't lose!" replies Sheep. Ben rolls his eyes again.

Rage goes back to the top rope as Magnifico lies in the center of the ring in pain. Rage signals to the crowd, and jumps into the air for a frogsplash, but Magnifico moves at the last second. Magnifico painfully crawls over to Rage to make the cover...1...2...kick out. Magnifico gets up first and stands behind Rage as he's getting up. Magnifico puts on a waist lock, Rage tries to elbow his way out of it, but he can't. Magnifico hits a german suplex and locks on the bridge pin! 1...2....kick out!

"A beautiful german suplex bridge from Magnifico! Rage just barely kicked out." exclaims Sheep.

Magnifico is beginning to become frustrated. He goes to the top rope and waits for Rage to get up. Rage gets up dizzily, as Magnifico jumps into tha air for the Super Hurricanrana, but Rage catches him upside down! Ragetries to hook him into the Ringer, as Magnifico tries to fight out of it. In a burst of strength, Magnifico manages to pull himself up, hook his arms around Rage's head, and nail a DDT!

"Wow! What a reversal by Magnifico! If Rage had locked in the Ringer, Magnifico would have been done for." exclaims Ben.

"That's what you think." replies Sheep, "Magnifico would never submit!"

"Whatever." mutters Ben.

Magnifico slowly crawls to the top rope. He signals to the crowd, and flies into the air for a moonsault. Rage gets his knees up at the last second, driving them into Magnifico's gut. Rage slowly makes his way to Magnifico for the pin...1...2....kick out! Rage is showing a lot of ....rage right now as he begins to get frustrated. Rage brings Magnifco to his feet, punches him a few times and whips him hard into the corner, causing Magnifico to fall down. Rage makes his way to the top rope, waiting for Magnifico to get up. When Magnifico gets up, Rage locks his arms around Magnifico's head as if to do a Tornado DDT, but Magnifico punches Rage in the gut, forcing him to break the hold. Rage is dazed as Magnifico goes to the top turnbuckle and nails the frankensteiner on Rage!

"Nice frankenstenier from Magnifico, but he's too tired to make the cover!" exclaims Ben H.

Both men are down as the referee counts..1..2...3...4....5....6.. Magnifico gets up at 7, and waits for Rage to get up. As soon as Rage turns around, Magnifico tries for a superkick, but Rage grabs his leg and reverses it into a leg and head Tazzplex! Both men are down again as the ref counts 1..2..3...4...5....6....7....8..at 9 Rage makes the cover....1...2...kick out!

"Man, Magnifico just won't give up!" says Sheep.

Rage is clearly becoming frustrated as he brings Magnifico to the top rope. Rage goes up to the top rope himself, and attempts a superplex, but Magnifico fights his way out of it. Magnifico then kicks Rage off the third turnbuckle. Magnifico then salutes the Mexican flag he brought to the ring, jumps into the air and nails the Mexican Pride Press (shooting star press) on Rage! The ref counts...1...2.....3! Magnifico wins!

"Amazing first showing from both these men!" exclaims Ben H as Magnifico makes his way back with his Mexican flag.

"Well, stick around folks, because we've got more great action coming up for you tonight on Metal!" says Sheep.

 

And yes, this is how the spacing actually was.

[Guest realitycheck]

Hey, cool. Let's embarrass ourselves~!

 

Anyway, this is the cage match I wrote against Silent. 6400 words... and he beat me with 4200. It's long, boring, poorly paced, uses 'magic door' teases despite the rules stating you couldn't exit via the door, and the ending is ripped from Silent/Thoth's HITC. Badly.

 

Bon appatite?

===

 

“Wooo! And welcome back to Smarkdown, folks! It’s been a pretty wild and crazy ride, but really… the show’s just getting started.” GSMS greets us, and shills enthusiastically. “The main event is yet to come, but up next we’ve got… well, just have a look at that structure of steel and figure it out yourself.”

 

“Uh-huh, uh-huh.” His co-hort, Bobby Riley, agrees. “Mark, it’s been an interesting night so far… but main event be damned, THIS is the match I’ve been waiting for on this card!”

 

“Gee, a violent cage match…” Stevens smirks. “Folks, are you at ALL surprised that Bobby Riley is giddy about a match with potentially dreadful consequences?”

 

Riley snorts. “Bah at you, Grand Slam. Bah at you. You don’t have to pull out the Merriam Webster’s just to try and take a cheap-shot at me because I *know what I like,* Mark.”

 

Stevens shakes his head. “Whatever you say, Riley… Anyway, if you all remember Smarkdown a few weeks ago, you’ll remember a hardcore match between Z and Silent, that Z actually CHALLANGED Silent for.”

 

“Alas,” Bobby picks up, “Even as crazy brave and fool-hearty as he was, Z got an unmitigated asskicking applied to him on that Smarkdown match! Silent squashed him like so many grapes!”

 

“Indeed… and the loss stuck with Z for a while, and as I understand, he constantly pestered Edwin to let him have his rematch. But Edwin, the caring leader--”

 

“-coughcowardcough!-”

 

Mark glares at Bobby, but continues. “…caring leader that he is, refused to let Z challenge Silent again. Not that it would’ve mattered, as Silent probably would’ve blown him off anyway.”

 

“So, WHAT does the little twerp do to get Silent to accept? He gets Silent angry by… By…” Riley clenches his fist, and trembles in beautifully faked anger. “By… by SPRAYPAINTING Silent’s CAR! Blue! And pink! Hot pink! That wasn’t just *any* car, Mark! That was a freakin’ DIABLO! To put it in perspective, it’d take someone on *your* salary years just to be able to make the downpayment!”

 

“Uh-huh… Riley, it might take you longer, seeing as you drive a Focus and all.” Riley recoils in his seat. “Anyway, I’d say the techies are just wrapping up, so lets prepare for the introductions!”

 

“Ladies and gentlemen!” Funyon booms, mic now to mouth. “The following contest… is… a STEEL CAGE MATCH!!” The crowd gives a solid pop for that, as Funyon goes on. “The only way to attain victory in this match… is via escaping the cage, either THROUGH the door, or climbing OVER the top, to the outside, with BOTH FEET touching the floor!” Another good pop! “And now, the competitors…”

 

The funky, synthesized rock of Faith No More’s “Epic” tears through the crowd, as they electrify with cheers! The opening guitar riff grooves, and with the curtain tossed, the lovable ball of green camouflage and blue hair emerges, pumping the cheers from the fans up a few more decibels!

 

“Introducing first, from Trenton, New Jersey! Weighing in tonight at 229lbs… he is a member of the Midnight Carnival… ZEEEEEEEEE!!”

 

Stepping down the ramp, Z soaks up a few cheers, doing a couple shoulder stretches and cuff rotations to psyche himself up before the match, in almost Goldberg fashion. Z does Goldberg’s mannerisms, and gets to the ‘palm self in head part’… but does an over-exaggerated spin after hitting himself, flopping the rest of the way down the ramp. He smirks at the chuckle from the fans, throws in his usual spinning salute, before entering the cage… walking around it, and examining the steel-mesh walls…

 

“Hmn… I think Z’s just getting the scope of the cage, here. Unless you count WarGames, the kid’s never been in a cage match.” Stevens thinks aloud.

 

“Boo freakin’ hoo, Mark.” Riley dismisses. “You know what else? Z’s never made a smart decision in his life before, unless you count his brain cells. You know what motto I lived by, Stevens? ‘It’s better to live and fight another day, than to die gloriously.’ And I’d say that Z should’ve taken my advice, before he did the stupid thing of challenging Silent AGAIN…”

 

Mark sighs. “Unfortunately, I’m inclined to agree there, Bobby.”

 

Z settles into the furthest corner from the cage door… just as the houselights drop. The chilling beginning of Front Line Assembly’s “Retribution” (Front 242 Remix) echoes through the arena… the entrance lights flicker rapidly, blurring the stage, as fog begins to billow from around it…

 

“Now entering!” Booms Funyon, continuing the intro. “From Phoenix, Arizona! Weighing in at 248lbs… he is a member of the Clan… SIIIIIILEEEENT!!!”

 

The SmarkTron lights up, blinking rapid shots of Silent, hitting a selection of one of the Demonstar Drivers. The character that symbolizes him flashes, so many now grown accustomed to it…

 

…

 

报应

 

…

 

…and Silent finally steps from the back, his coat trailing behind him in a dramatic flourish, his trademark cane leading his way. He ignores all the insults, and jeers thrown at him from the crowd as he saunters down the aisle… calmly walking to the referee outside the cage, and hading him his jacket and cane, before walking up the steps and into the cage. Z rises from his corner, getting into a ready stance, as Silent brushes the hair out of his face. The ref signals for the bell, and closes the door…

 

**DING!DING!DING!**

 

…but has it open again in a moment, as Z dives from his corner, sprinting to the cage door and attempting to slide through! The crowd roars at Z getting any kind of early win, as Silent just kicks in, dropping down and grabbing a hold of Z’s ankle to stop him!

 

“Z doing the most intelligent thing here possible: Try to win the match before it even starts!” Shouts Stevens!

 

“Yeah, that’d be about the first smart think he’s done… ever.” Chides Bobby. “But it ain’t gonna happen, Mark! Silent’s got a firm hold of Z’s foot, and he ain’t letting go!”

 

The crowd continues to cheer the One-Letter Wonder on, as he claws at the frame of the door, trying to pull himself out. Silent tightens his grip on Z’s foot, locking it under his arm, and pulling as hard as he can, managing to turn Z over somewhat. The Carnie still keeps hold of the steel, kicking feebly through the bottom and second rope, trying to get Silent *somewhere*. But Silent’s sheer strength pulls Z back, his grip failing on the door frame. Silent pulls Z back under the bottom rope… just as Z latches hold, doing whatever he can to stop Silent from dragging him. The Slaughter snorts indignantly, giving Z a hard *YANK*… that doesn’t jar him free. Silent growls. Again, Z kicks feebly at the Silent One, and predictably, gets his foot caught. Both of Z’s feet in hand, Silent gives him another *YANK*, freeing Z from the corner, and letting his legs go, sending him falling with a…

 

-Crash!-

 

…back-first to the canvas. The ref finally closes the door to the cage for good, whilst Z flops around like a fish on the mat, grabbing on his back. Silent is seemingly impervious to the solid boos the crowd gives to him.

 

“Oo… and Z really getting his back into it early, so to speak.” Even BOBBY winces at Mark’s bad joke. “You know, I have to think that Z’s voiding his first plan of attack, here: Get on a bike and ride.”

 

Bobby guffaws. “Run? To WHERE? Z ain’t got nowhere to hide, probably because of that big metal thingie around the ring, Mark. And you know what? If that WAS, in fact, his plan, then he’s a REAL idiot. He *demanded* that he and Silent face in this match, and all the trouble he gets into is his own damn fault.”

 

“That’s an irrefutable point, Bobby.” Mark agrees, sounding a mite grim. “Regardless, whatever Z’s plan is, Silent’s remains the same. He’s going to beat the bejusus out of him, and for GOOD this time.”

 

Z crawls around on the mat hopelessly, as Silent lays into his back with vicious, STIFF stomps. Tired of stomping already, Silent casually grabs Z by his blue locks, and backs him into the corner, trying for an Irish Whip into the opposite one... that’s reversed! The crowd pops, as Silent barrels to the corner! He connects with the turnbuckle-smack!-and before he can even get his bearings, Z jumps up onto the second rope, and pistons ‘The Slaughterers’ face with his kuckles! The crowd counts along with the quick fists!

 

“ONE!” “TWO!” “THREE!” “FOUR!” FIV--!”

 

No! At five, Silent grabs Z by his jacket, and throws him, sending him back flipping down the mat!

 

“Z just getting tossed like a rag-doll!” Shouts Stevens, making excellent use of his wrestling clichés. “But that’s not enough to stifle Z! He back on him!”

 

Indeed, Z springs up from the mat, and charges Silent before he can leave the turnbuckle, hopping back on the second rope and pumping fists into Silent’s face! The crowd chants again!

 

“ONE!” “TWO!” “THREE!” “FOUR!” “FIVE!” “SIX!” “SEVEN!” EI-”

 

The chanting is again cut short as Silent grabs Z by his jacket, but doesn’t throw him back down the ring again—but instead opts to pick him up, turn, and toss him right back into the turnbuckle! Z slumps down, as Silent takes a step back—and leans into Z’s gut with a brutal front snap kick! The One-Letter Wonder slumps down in the turnbuckle, as the Silent One follows that up with a side-kick to the ribs! Another to the ribs, this time with the opposite foot! Silent scores a third side-kick to the ribs, but keeps the momentum going with a spinning roundhouse to the face! Z’s cranium gets knocked sideways, but Silent keeps going, keeping the spin on for back-kick to the gut!

 

“Whoo!” Shouts Riley, watching Z slouch. “Mixed martial arts mastery at it’s… uh, most magnificent! Ph34r my 0wz0ring |\/|0/\/\3|\|7um, f00|!”

 

“…I don’t even want to know how you just pronounced that, Riley. But regardless, yes, Silent really putting the hurt on Z with those Thai-flavored kicks! …and he’s not quite finished yet! Silent crouches down, sighting Z up for…”

 

**SMACK!**

 

“…a superkick!”

 

Silent’s leather boots connect with Z’s fleshy face rather noisily, as Z is nearly thrown all the way over the roped by the force of the kick, crumpling to a heap between the ropes and the cage! The crowd boils over with ire, jeering their hardest at Silent, who barely pays them any matter. The Silent One is more preoccupied watching the woozy figure of Z, fumbling with the cage to pull himself up and rolling through the ropes and back into the ring, wobbly pulling himself up to his knees… and stumbling right back into the awaiting arms of Silent. With a bit of a smirk, Silent grabs Z by his hair, and matches him to another corner and…

 

-Whud!-

 

…slamming his head down on the top turnbuckle! Z shambles away from the corner, almost falling over himself, trying to regain his equilibrium! Silent is having none of that, though, as he steps over and grabs Z again, marching back to the corner THOWING HIM…

 

-WHUD!-

 

…another head-to-turnbuckle collision! Z crashes face-first onto the padding, flipping half-backwards and cascading to the ground! “Jesus CHRIST, Z isn’t just getting tossed like a rag-doll, here, Bobby, he’s getting beaten from pillar to post!” Exclaims ‘Grand Slam’!

 

“Like the proverbial redheaded step-child!” Adds Riley, oh-so tastefully. “And this is only the beginning, Mark! Silent scoops up Z, taking him by the hand… and tossing him to the turnbuckle! No reversal, baby!”

 

Z careens toward one of the turnbuckles, the sheer force of Silent’s throw causing him to stumble, trip, and crash into the second turnbuckle, sending him into a flip! Z spins up and over, ending up in a sitting position between on top… before dazedly falling back, thumping to the mat. The crowd’s blood begins to boil, as the first small “Silent sucks! Silent SUCKS!” chant of the night starts up.

 

“This crowd obviously not shy in showing what they think of ‘The Slaughterer.’” Notes Mark.

 

“Bah. What kind of crowd is that!? I mean, look at what he’s doing in there! He’s taking the time to go into the that ring and totally dismantle Z, JUST to satisfy the bloodlust of the fans. I mean, look at him! He’s even taking the time to acknowledge them!”

 

“…I somehow doubt Silent is satisfying anything but the fans desire to boo the hell out of him, Bobby. And how the hell is he acknowledging them!? He’s just standing in the ring, contemplating where he’s going to stick the knife next, so to speak, in Z! He doesn’t give a good goddamn about the fans!”

 

Indeed Silent does not as he regards the now fallen Z and the chanting fans with little attention. After standing in the ring for a long moment, Silent finally decides what he’s about to do next… and walks to the nearest wall of the cage.

 

“Now, now!” Riley assumes the defensive. “*I* used to do similar all the time with *my* fans and *they* still loved me for it!”

 

Stevens sighs. “Riley, most of your fans either wore metal studs or leather chaps, and they all have beards—and I think that’s beside the point anyway, as Silent looks like he’s going to try for the first climb of the cage!”

 

The crowd’s booing becomes even more fierce as Silent climbs up the first… second… top rope, and gets a foothold in one of the steel mesh fencing holes, pulling himself up a bit. He starts the climb, getting high enough to get a hand on the large metal scaffolding that runs all along the top of the cage, until he realizes something—the crowd’s jeering jas suddenly been whipped up into cheering! Silent turns to see if Z has arisen—but gets a hard forearm to the back! Silent grip slackens, and he tries to regain it, but he gets a second forearm ! A third, and with a light thud, he topples back to the ground, Z continuing to pound on his back!

 

“The crowd solidly behind Z, here. He’s managed to pummel Silent down, onto his knees, continuing to work those forearms into his back.” Calls Stevens.

 

“Bah, I can’t belive this! I mean… how the hell could someone like Z be getting an advantage on Silent!?” Riley starts to freak! “Really, how often do you see SILENT on his knees!?”

 

“Oh, I’d say he doesn’t fall to his knees about as often as Riley does on a Saturday night.” Stevens grins, as Bobby blanches.

 

“What!? What the hell are you supposed to be implying there?!”

 

Stevens merely smirks in return to Riley. “Anyway, Z’s got Silent down… and now he’s just draped Silent’s next across the second rope! I’d say he’s about to look for a Rocking Horse!”

 

Knowing that Silent won’t remain dazed for long, Z raises his hand to the fans quickly, getting a bit of a pop, before running to the opposite ropes and ricocheting off, jumping, spreading his legs, and looking to drop his thigh right on the back of Silent’s neck!

 

…a thigh that Silent easily avoids, as he merely rolls out of the way, casually at that. The crowd ‘Oo’s!’ in sympathy as Z makes a bit of a painful connection with the ropes…

 

“Bahahahaha!” Riley cackles! “Silent’s got a bit of a sixth sense, there! Either that, or he was paying real close attention to that match Z had with Xero on Storm!”

 

“Silent can tend to be a real study, though why he might be watching Xero and Z fight is beyond me.” Says Mark. “Regardless, Silent has pulled the still quivering Z to his feet, and slapped on a front face lock. He throws one of Z’s arms over his shoulder, hooks the thights, and scores a textbook vertical suplex!

 

“Plus HANGTIME, BAYBEE!”

 

“Yes.”

 

Grumbling something about Mark being a killjoy, Bobby turns his attention back to the match… and sees Silent once again trying to make it up the cage wall! Silent steps up the ropes, getting a hold on the mesh… he begins the climb. Hand over hand, foot following up any kind of hold after another, Silent navigates his way up the 15 foot wall, finally getting up to the girder on top! The crowd boos, as the Silent one drapes on leg over…

 

“He’s got it!” Shouts Riley, giddy. “Silent’s got the win! Z is *out,* folks!”

 

“Bobby, I don’t think so! Look!”

 

At Stevens’ direction, Riley looks to the ring, and sees Z dragging himself to his knees, after being vertical lifted, and then tossed into the cage! Numbly, Z rises to his feet, wobbling over to the wall Silent has almost finished climbing! With one big finger-tips-extended-as-far-as-they-can-go dive, Z… nabs a bit of Silent’s pant leg! The crowd roars in approval, as Z slowly shakes out the cobwebs, locking onto Silent’s leg and trying his best to yank him back over!

 

“Z’s up! Z’s up, and he’s got Silent by those pajama bottoms of his!” Cheers Mark!

 

“Dammit, those are not pajama bottoms. Those are authentic, karate guy cotton pants” Bobby fires back. “They’re honorable!”

 

“They’re what I wear to bed at night, Riley.”

 

The crowd begins to swell, as to Silent’s disbelief—and just as much Z’s—the Carnie actually begins to make progress, towing Silent back into the ring, squatting down as far down as he can with Silent’s leg still in hand to try and bring him back over! Z pulls… and Silent maintains his grip on the steel bars on top, trying to counteract Z… but it’s not good! Z manages to pull Silent’s leg over! His balance gone, Silent swings on the top of the cage… until his grip fails, thanks to a hard punch to the thigh from Z! A second! Silent slumps down, now basically kneeling on the top rope… and Z grabs him by the hair, wrenching into a reverse headlock. He takes a single moment to play to the crowd with his free hand, before spinning and dropping an elbow into Silent’s chest, completing the Turn n’ Burn to a huge roar!

 

Stevens can’t help but turn on a large smile. “Turn n’ Burn, basically dragging Silent off of the cage! Somewhere, Divefire’s smilin’!”

 

“Bah,” Bobby dismisses, sounding disgusted. “Somewhere, Divefire’s cryin’ over having his move tarnished by this damn kid.”

 

Mark sighs. “Well, whatever the case may be, both men are down and out on the mat! And the crowd is *solidly* behind Z here!”

 

Mark is proven correct by the echo of “Let’s go Z! Let’s go Z!” being chanted in the Kemper Arena, the fans clearly behind the Carnie to be the first one to his feet in this double-KO. However, they are audibly disappointed as the Silent One is the first to stir, picking his head off of the ground and shaking off just getting pulled feet from victory, getting pulled down a cage, and then having a sheer drop of nothing before 230lbs of elbow gets planted in your sternum. Never the less, Silent preservers, adjusting his body on the canvas so he faces… the door. Taking a deep breath, the Clansman begins his crawl to the cage exit. Hand over hand, ‘The Slaughterer’ crawls to victory, static from the crowd building the close he gets. The ref opens the door, and Silent strains for the outside…!

 

…but is stopped as a certain recovered 26th letter of the alphabet captures his ankle. The crowd gives a steadily increasing ‘rah!’ as Z clambers to his feet, pulling Silent away from his intentions…

 

“Z finally recovered here!” Yells GSMS. “I guess you could say he just turned Silent’s day into a real drag!”

 

“…that frickin’ SUCKED, Stevens.”

 

The referee begins to close the door…

 

…but Z quickly drops Silent, leaps over him, and makes a dive for the door!

 

“Don’t close that thing yet, ref!”

 

“Yes, dammit, close it faster! Where do we HIRE these guys, Mark!? He should’ve had that thing bolted shut before Z even though about it!”

 

Z claws for the outside, trying to pull HIMSELF to freedom—until that plan is put on hold by Silent. Specifically, Silent’s hands, which just grabbed Z’s ankle, and started pulling him back!

 

Bobby breathes a sigh of realief. “Whew… whew… close call, there. It almost looked like Silent wasn’t going to win this one in melon-busting fashion for a minute!”

 

The ref tries to close the door *again*…

 

…but Silent quickly drops *Z*, leaping over *him*, and making a b-line for the egress portal.

 

“Wait, NO!” Shouts Riley, “What the hell is that ref doing, closing the door so soon!? He should’ve had that door open for longer than Missy Hyatt’s legs! Where do we HIRE these guys, Mark?”

 

“…Riley…”

 

…

 

“…you’re a tool.”

 

Silent again outstretches for victory… but is again stopped short by the hands of a certain Carnie!

 

“And Z drags Silent back to the center of the ring, once again!” Says Mark.

 

Silent rolls onto his back, as Z steadies himself full on his feet, Silent’s ankle still in hand. Silent throws out a meandering kicks… that Z ducks under, pops up, and secures in his other hand!

Z takes a quick moment to gaze about the cheering crowd, before looking down at Silent, who struggles—VIOLENTLY—in his grasp. “Z knows he has to get a move that’ll put Silent down long enough for him to make the escape, here.” Explains Mark. “I think it’s left him with just one choice…” And indeed it has, as Z looks around again, quickly, then down at Silent again… then opens Silent’s legs a little better, and drops down. With this head. Straight down.

 

The crowd “OooOo’s” in sympathy.

 

Mark Stevens is beside himself with a mile-wide grin. “Okay, folks, say it at home with me: It’s the GAL-AH-TAY-YUH SPECIAL! Headbutt edition!”

 

“What!? This… this is… this is a travesty, Mark! And you know it!” Riley goes into panic mode! “Silent’s little quiet one just… well… it may have been permanently silenced!”

 

“It’s payback for what happened earlier in the match, Riley!” Laughs Stevens.

 

“But… but… that was INADVERTENT! How come it’s always okay if *Z* does it?”

 

Before Mark can get a chance to explain himself; Z does the distracting for him, bolting for the cage door. The referee opens the door again, as Z pulls himself along the canvas as fast as he can! The crowd roars in approval, as Z inches to the door frame, and leaps to the outside, over the metal stair and…

 

…suddenly stops!

 

“Whoo!” ‘Whoo’s’ Bobby. “Silent! Silent stopped Z from getting out AGAIN!”

 

”Well… what the hell? He just got absolutely CANNED moments ago! How the hell did he get up so fast!”

 

“He’s a demon, Mark!” Riley sounds *way* too giddy for his own good. “He lives like a demon, he fights like a demon, he heals like a demon, and you know what? From here on in, he’s going to destroy Z—like a demon!”

 

Riley laughs in maniacal fashion, as Silent stands full up-right, his sudden recovery shocking more than a few in the crowd. Z helplessly tries to claw on to anything on the outside that might help him! The stairs—No, Silent pulls him so hard they get pulled away! Wait, the ref!—No, he’s jumping away! The door! The door! Z grabs for the door—bad idea! The door CLOSES when you pull on it! Kicking and screaming and hopelessly clawing at nothing, Silent pulls Z right back to the centre of the ring, crowd booing all the while.

 

“I knew it! I knew it would happen sooner or later! Silent was giving Z the benefit of the doubt, thinking that what he brought on Smarkdown three weeks ago would be good enough to beat Z now!” Yells Bobby.

 

“So,” Mark begins. “What you’re saying is that now Silent’s REALLY pissed off, and he’s going to bring his A-Game?”

 

“Oh-ho-ho… you’re a quick one, Stevens.” Riley pauses. “Well, not usually, but I guess every dog has his day. But yes, if Z were smart at all, he would’ve backed down and just let Silent walk all over him. Now…” Riley licks his lips. “…now Silent’s going to try and kill him. Fights… like… a DEMON, Mark.”

 

In the center of the ring, Silent still keep a firm grip on Z’s leg, trying to keep him down to inflict as much punishment as possible. Z, though, has other ideas, and acts on the them quick, kicking Silent in the gut several timed from his lying position! Silent releases the hold on Z’s leg, allowing the One-Letter Wonder to get to his feet. ‘Springing’ up at a middling pace, Z faces Silent, and lets lose with one single, hard, overhand punch! …that Silent easily blocks with his forearm, and grabs, twisting around into an armlock. Gaining all the leverage he can from the hold, Silent sights Z up, and lets fly with a front hook kick! …Z actually sees coming, ducking underneath! With missing the kick putting Silent off-kilter, Z quickly ducks under and unwrenches the armlock, and shoots the Clansman off the ropes in an Irish Whip! The Carnie shoots off himself… and quickly ducks out of the line of fire of a stiffer-than-all-hell Silent lariat! The Carnie himself rebounds…and hooks Silent upside the head with his OWN stiffer-than-all-hell Arm Grenade! Silent flops down, perfectly diagonal to the turnbuckles, as the crowd pops huge for the Zedman’s lariat!

 

“…fights like a demon, huh?”

 

“Look, it’s… he’s, uh… dammit, he’s gotta be luring Z into a false sense of security!”

 

“Really? Must be one hell of a comeback planned if he’s been doing that ALL MATCH.”

 

Z acknowledges the cheers from the fans, raising one hand, while tottering into the corner. Z leans against the turnbuckle pads, listening to the huge “Let’s Go Z! LET’S GO Z!” chant emanating from the fans. Z takes one more deep breath, looking at Silent… and his distance… and then thinking. Shaking out the long-since unbundled blue hair from his eyes, Z sets both hands on either side of the turnbuckle, and pushes himself up to the second rope. The crowd pops. Loudly.

 

“Oh, lord… Z may be looking to do more damage to Silent, taking a page of out of Steve Austin’s playbook.” Comments Mark.

 

Bobby twitches. “Must… resist… unfunny… smark jokes…”

 

Giving one last look out to the fans, Z dives at Silent, crashing across his sternum with a flying front elbow off the second rope! Silent spasms, then flops down to the mat, while the crowd reaches a fever pitch! “Damn right he took one from Steve Austin! Z just drove his elbow almost right down Silent’s throat!” Hollers Mark! “…but what’s he doing? He looks like he’s headed back…”

 

“…to the turnbuckle.” Bobby finishes, sounding a little mortified. “He’s… going to do it again. Dammit, Silent, what the hell is wrong with you!? You’re supposed to be a DEMON!”

 

Again on the second rope, Z gives a quick bid to all the fans, and leaps off once more, scoring a second front elbow into Silent’s sternum! The crowd is a sea of cheers for the second as much as the first! Z rolls clear of Silent again… and stands up again. And again, he steps over Silent, and heads back to the turnbuckle.

 

Mark blinks. “He’s… going to do it a third time?”

 

“God, WHY? Silent should be KILLING him right now!”

 

For the third time, Z pulls himself up to the second rope, and sights up ‘The Slaughterer.’ And for the third time, he flies off… and hammers the point of his elbow into Silent’s chest! Z rolls clear a third time, as the Overkill Elbow gets the biggest pop of the three! Z takes a deep breath and leans against the ropes of the opposite corner. He takes a deep breath, and turns to the steel wall to begin his accent…

 

…

 

 

…

 

 

…

 

 

…

 

 

…when Silent sits bolt upright. The crowd goes dead silent(no pun inteneded), having seen the man take not one, not two, but THREE flying eblows to the chest, plus Z’s super lariat. The commentators reaction isn’t much different.

 

“Did he just… Silent did not just… he sat BOLT upright!” Mark Stevens is stunned.

 

Bobby Riley chuchkes. “Heh, heh, heh… Z, meet A-Game.”

 

Against the ropes, Z’s face is painted an expression of ‘Holy SHIT.’ As Silent methodically gets to his feet, Z steps on the bottom rope, tearing up the second the third, trying to get the hell out of Dodge, so to speak. The Carnie makes his way several steps up the steel mesh… before being grabbed by the pant leg by a certain Clannite. Positioning himself RIGHT under Z, Silent grabs him by his pants and pulls him onto his shoulders… locks his hands around his waist… and WHIPS him to the mat with an ultra meaty powerbomb! Z’s shoulders and neck connect horribly with the canvas, but Silent has only begun… Picking up the limp-ish Z off the ground, Silent serves him to the ropes… and is surprised that Z suddenly springs at him, landing a jab square on his face! Z continues, getting a second jab! A third! The crowd starts to rally behind Z again, as he strikes Silent with an overhand punch! Z runs off the ropes, trying for another Arm Grenade…

 

…and gets blasted by a HUGE punch from Silent. Z skitters across the ring, as Silent can only smirk.

 

Mark gapes. “Silent… Silent is just single handedly killing Z’s comeback attempts! He’s a momentum crushing force!”

 

“What did I tell you, Mark? DEMON!”

 

But STILL not stupid enough to give up, Z clambers up, shuffling his way toward Silent. Z kicks his feet out in a sloppy front dropkick… that Silent catches with both hands, securing both of Z’s legs under his arms. Adjusting the position of the Carnie on the mat, Silent prepares to…

 

“You know… with the position he’s in, if he were to do a catapult, Silent could hurt Z severely.” Muses Mark. Before blinking. “Oh my…”

 

“Bahahaha!” Riley cackles! “I know, Stevens! He knows! Isn’t it just GREAT to watch, though?”

 

…catapult Z, right into the mesh! Z flies into the steel, face first, as the crowd’s ire boils over, and they wash the ring over in heat!

 

“SILENT SUCKS! SILENT SUCKS!”

 

The chant has little effect on the Clansman, who picks up the Carnie… and grins as he sees the trickle of blood that’s begun to flow from his forehead. Grabbing Z roughly by the hair, Silent RAMS his face against the steel, and begins to grate it against the mesh! Silent’s attempt to flay the flesh from Z’s skull ears more negativity from the crowd, which is promptly ignored. Satisfied with the now flowing stream of blood, Silent takes Z by the head… and points at one corner of the cage. Silent charges with Z in hand, and throws him at the cage!

 

**CRASH!**

 

The crowd lays the hate on thick, but Silent doesn’t care, as he picks up Z again, and points at another wall of the cage. Silent charges, throw…!

 

**CRASH!**

 

The heat is almost like a sea of boos, but Silent is walking on it. He points to a third corner of the ring… Charge! Throw!

 

**CRASH!**

 

Finally, with the heavily bleeding Z in hand, Silent points at the final corner of the ring. He charges, and goes to throw Z!

 

…but Z blocks by getting his foot on the bottom rope! Z reaches over, grabbing Silent by the head, and ramming him into the—

 

**CRASH!**

 

A second rmming into the—

 

**CRASH!**

 

“Holy man!” Shouts Mark! “Silent ran Z into all the coreners of the cage to try and make him bleed more… but Z countered the last one!”

 

“How rude and unsymmetrical!”

 

Silence.

 

“Hey, balance is important to me, Mark!”

 

“Riiight… Anyway, I think Z is going to use this as his opportunity to get out of this damn cage!”

 

And with that, and the crowd roaring behind him, Z steps on the ropes, and clambers up onto the mesh, trying to find a foot hold! He hurries up, getting ¼ of the way… ½ of the way… ¾ of the—NO! Z stops cold as Silent, easily recovering from getting his head rammed into the cage, climbs up to the top rope… and blasts him with a punch to the thigh! A second one, and Z falters down… just down far enough for Silent to lock in a full-nelson…

 

Mark Gasps. “Oh… no…”

 

 

 

 

Just far enough… to get some decent leverage…

 

 

 

 

“He… Silent isn’t thinking of…”

 

 

 

 

Just far enough… to get good bounce on these ropes.

 

 

 

 

Silent flies off the cage, Z in tow, and crashes to the mat. Driving him down with a Dragon Suplex off the cage. To the mat. Z’s neck collides with a -thunk-

 

“Ho-lee SHIT. A Dragon Suplex OFF THE CAGE! A DRAGON SUPLEX OFF THE CAGE!! Silent just DRAGON SUPLEXED Z *OFF THE CAGE!!*”

 

“Mua’hahahahaha! Demon? Silent’s in league with Satan himself, Mark! All he needs to do is *climb the cage* and he’s got this won!” Shouts Riley!

 

With the mild “Holy Shit!” chant echoing in the background, Silent slowly begins to stir… haven taken the least part of the impact of a Dragon Suplex from off the cage, he slowly begins to crawl to ropes, latching on to the bottom one. The crowd’s ‘holy shit’ chant fades, replaced by the usual static Silent receives for anything he does. Silent tows himself up to the second rope… then the third… he places a hand on the steel mesh, and slowly… steps… higher…

 

“Silent…” Mark begins, “Silent is climbing up the cage! But… but Z…”

 

“He might be dead, right? Heh, heh, heh…” Bobby is as morbid about these things as usual.

 

A camera closes in on Z, showing his face, dripping blood, and his eyes… slowly cracking open. Those in the crowd who see it roar. Like a bear awakening from hibernation, Z slowly… rolls… over… and claws his way to the ropes. Z reaches the bottom rope… and reaches for the second one… as unbelievable as it may seem, actually GAINING on Silent.

 

“Z! Z…! The Carnie boy is far from dead, I can assure you, Bobby! He’s climbing up the cage… and he’s gaining on Silent!”

 

“Wha… what!? HOW!? He got dropped right on his FRIGGIN’ NECK!”

 

The two men slowly approach the steel girder at the top of the cage, Silent weakly throwing his hands over it, trying to pull his legs up, as a thunderous “LET’S GO Z! LET’S GO Z!” chant urges on the man that follows him up from behind! Z nears the top… but Silent gets one leg over! Z quickly tries to follow, grabbing onto Silent’s pant legs and stopping him from climbing down! The crowd watches the drama unfold, as Silent kicks Z in the chest… but in his weakened state—or is that in Z’s 2nd wind state?—the kicks have practically no effect. Finally, with one last heave of effort, Z mounts the top of the cage to a thunderous pop, coming face to face with Silent!

 

“They’re right above us now!” Shouts Stevens, looking up from the announcers table to the cage. “If one of them were to fall…”

 

“And you’re damn sure that’s what Silent’s going to try and do!” Yells Bobby! “Silent throws a right… and Z catches it right with his face!”

 

“That teters Z… but he fires back with a right of his own!”

 

The crowd “oohs” at the sight of the two men dueling it out at the top of the cage! Silent throws a right! Z throws a right! Silent throws a right! Z throws a right… and Silent ducks, letting Z fall dangerously off-balance! Silent smiles… and with one last HARD shot to the head, he sends Z falling over the side! …and reaching over, grabbing onto Silent’s leg to prevent himself from falling! The weight of a 230lb man on his one leg, Silent is pulled right down to the girder! Silent squirms to keep HIS balance, while Z tries to pull himself up better!

 

“Jezus! Z… just just grabbed hold of Silent’s leg! If he lets go, he falls all the way down!” Screams Mark, trying to be heard over the buzzing fans!

 

“B-but… if he DOESN’T let go, he’ll bring Silent down with him!” Exclaims Riley!

 

Pause.

 

“…you know…” Muses Mark, “This is eerily reminiscent of another match with Silent, that was also enclosed in steel…”

 

Silent looks down at the man clinging onto his leg… and he returns his look, with his blood soaked face… and a blood soaked smile.

 

“Hahaha… Silent… brings back memories, eh?”

 

Silent tries to shake Z off his leg, but the match and the circumstances make it too hard. Z continues to smile.

 

“Don’t worry… Silent… you don’t have to fall… this time. Besides…

 

 

 

 

 

…I told you I wouldn’t lose…”

 

And with those words, the Carnie detaches himself from Silent’s leg and falls…

 

 

…falls…

 

 

…falls…

 

 

…down to…

 

 

…the ground.

 

 

The crowd is a mix of gasps and cheers, as Z falls from the cage, through the announcer’s table, and to the ground. In a rush, all of time moves normally again.

 

“...GOD!! What a fall!! The cage! Z fell from the 15 foot cage!!”

 

“He won by *letting himself fall*? What the fuck!?”

 

**DING!DING!DING!**

 

“The WINNER of this match… VIA CLIMBOUT… ZEEEEEEE!!”

 

The crowd pops huge for their letter-man winning… but then realize his condition, haven fallen off a cage an through a table. Several paramedics run out to tend to him, as Silent watches, still sitting on the cage… unemotionlessly.

 

“My… my lord, Z’s back just hit the VERY edge of our table!” Shouts Mark! “I mean, he looks… Z doesn’t look good at all, Bobby.”

 

“Yeah, yeah, nasty fall, tenacious Carnies… I hear it everyday, Mark.”

 

“Bobby… really…” Mark sighs. “Anyway, more Smarkdown… after this commercial break.”

 

The camera gets one last shot of the bloody Z, and then a close up on Silent, still looking emotionless, as we fade…

[Guest Tyler McClelland]

I hate you guys.

 

My first was like ELM's.

[Secret Agent 0]

I don't have any of my real early ones. Now not to poke fun or offend, but IL do you still have any of your early midget matches?

[Guest TheBostonStrangler]

Well, this might not be my WORST match, but it's pretty bad. This is the Death on Ice match I had with Munich at From the Fire in February 2002. Munich insisted on the stip, although I wasn't a huge fan (he then proceeded to no-show...da bum). I soon found out how damn hard it is to write anything resembling offense while on ice. If you read the entire thing, I feel bad for you.

 

 

 

 

-------------------

 

The roar of the crowd in the Target Center in frigid Minneapolis, Minnesota begins to die down as Sacred and Mercury finally disappear from the ring area. The fans sit down; anxiously checking their programs to see what match is next on the card. A few hopeful (or hyper) fans remain on their feet while screaming, jumping up and down, and waving their signs in the air. One fan goes absolutely insane as she appears on the IGNTron™, and continues to wave her “I LOVE STUBBY!” sign. The camera continues to pan around the arena, showing the massive sellout crowd as the one female fan continues to scream as loudly as she can. As the fans next to her clap their hands over her mouth and pull her down into her seat, the shot quickly switches from a shot of the crowd to a look of Curry and NTD sniping at each other across the announce table.

 

“Now how can you really think that CURLING is more interesting than SPEED SKATING, NTD?”

 

“Curry, have you ever watched curling? The drama, the intensity, the…”

 

“…the brooms, the sweeping, the boredom…”

 

“As opposed to speed skating? Oh, look, I’m skating in a circle! WOW! Look at me go! I’m so special! Give me a break, Curry!”

 

“At least it isn’t a freakin’ ROCK moving in a straight line! I mean, c’mon!”

 

“At least that rock has charisma, unlike someone ELSE sitting at this announce table!”

 

“What exactly is that supposed to mean?”

 

“Oh, nothing…*coughboringlosercough*”

 

“Hey, at least I don’t still live with my mother!”

 

“Curry, there was no need for that! And my mother lives with ME!”

 

“Sure she does…. oh, crap…”

 

“What…. oh”

 

Curry and NTD turn and stare at the cameraman, who is simply pointing at the camera’s shining red light. Curry and NTD look at each other, and then turn to face the camera, with their best fake smiles plastered on their faces. While Curry tries to go shifting through his notes, NTD takes the initiative.

 

“Hello, IGNWF fans! Apparently we won’t be showing that groundbreaking interview with BasketballASA…”

 

“That’s because it never happened, NTD. Anyway, we’ve started off tonight with two incredible matches. Tonight, we saw a member of the Clan, the Light Heavyweight champion Fallout, square off against former LHW and World Heavyweight champion El Luchadore Magnifico, a member of the Midnight Carnival!”

 

“And then we saw the climax of a bitter feud between Mercury and Sacred, two old friends who can’t seem to get back on the same page!”

 

“And speaking of old friends, we have a pair of grudge matches between old friends tonight, and the stakes have never been higher!”

 

“Damn straight, NTD! We’ll have the HVille Thugg taking on Xstasy for the #1 Contendership to the IGNWF Heavyweight Championship! And then, in our main event, that Championship will be decided as the Suicide King, the former leader of the Midnight Carnival, will take on “Grand Slam” Mark Stevens in a match with a TON of history behind it!”

 

“And tonight, the elusive Prophet may finally be revealed, as soon as he finishes destroying that punk, our not-so-esteemed Commish McWeed!”

 

“NTD, I get the feeling that this match will be a true battle…and so will our next fight! There have been battles between the Boston Strangler and Munich since December, when Strangler first appeared at The IGNWF No-Sells Christmas! After winning his first match in the league, he managed to piss off a returning Munich! Munich didn’t take kindly, and the two men have been at each other’s throats ever since!”

 

“Curry, stop kidding yourself! This has been a completely one-sided battle! Let’s see…what has Munich accomplished? He gave out Strangler’s phone number to a bunch of gay people, and then beat him up at a hockey game. Meanwhile, Strangler took Munich’s hardcore title, defended it, and also beat up Munich and two of his friends at a bar. Plus, the Patriots won the Super Bowl, and Munich’s pathetic Bears got their asses kicked!”

 

“NTD, Munich was screwed out of the Hardcore Title TWICE, when Strangler had to have the Clan bail him out! But tonight, that won’t be happening! Tonight, Strangler and Munich will be battling at Washburn High School in Minneapolis, away from the Target Center, and the helping hand of the Clan!”

 

“I wouldn’t worry about that! But tonight, they’ll battle it out on the ice! They’ve already had one rumble IN a hockey arena, but tonight, they’re alone in a 1,250-seat arena! Pinfalls count anywhere inside the building, and anything and everything is legal! Tonight, these two men will go to the limit, and as usual, Strangler will win!”

 

“NTD, I just don’t see how you can be so confident!”

 

“Strangler is UNDEFEATED in singles competition in the IGNWF, Curry! He’s already beaten Munich TWICE!”

 

“Third time’s the charm, NTD. Anyway, we’ll be doing commentary via satellite uplink, and we’ll have our roving reporter on the scene! Let’s take it to Ben Hardy at the rink!”

 

“Um…Curry, Hardy’s still here. He’s backstage right now. He’s not going down there.”

 

“Wait a minute…please tell me that they didn’t do this again…”

 

“KLUK-KLUK-KABOOM!”

 

“Oh crap…”

 

As Curry hangs his head and begins to cry, the face of Exploding Chicken appears on the IGNTron™ with the backdrop of a completely empty hockey rink behind him. The fans go absolutely nuts, giving Exploding Chicken WAY too big a pop. Chicken stands there, waiting for a few seconds, then continues onward.

 

“Kaboom! That’s right! I’ve got you boys covered down here. I’ll lend you two a hand in following this most unusual match!”

 

A slumped-over Curry can only mutter “Yay”. Meanwhile, NTD is doing his best to fish Curry’s wallet out of his pants. Suddenly, “Power Struggle” by Sunna rips throughout the arena, sending the fans to their feet. The lights begin to flash, and on the IGNTron™, Munich appears, with his trusty barbed-wire hockey stick in hand. He high-fives Exploding Chicken, then points straight into the camera. The fans go nuts as Munich screams out “NOBODY F*CKS WITH MUNICH!”, then steps onto the ice. The referee, a rookie in the IGNWF named Rick Baker, waits for Munich at center ice. Munich cautiously slides along the ice, doing his best to keep his grip on the slippery surface. He finally makes his way to the center of the ice, and whispers something to the referee, who is on skates, before standing there for a second as Funyon’s voice comes over the PA system at both arenas.

 

“This is a DEATH ON ICE match, it is scheduled for ONE FALL, and it is for the IGNWF HARDCORE GAMER’S CHAMPIONSHIP! The challenger, weighing in at 261 POUNDS, from CHICAGO, ILLINOIS…MUUUUUUUUUNICH!”

 

The camera view goes back to the arena, where NTD is sitting with a huge diagram of a building. Curry starts to speak, while NTD simply stares into the camera and makes funny faces. “The IGNWF would like to take this time to introduce a new camera system that they’ll be using when people have to wrestle in…unconventional venues. NTD, why don’t you show our fans this amazing new system!”

 

“Well Curry, this is how it will be working. Exploding Chicken only has one cameraman there. Ahmed will man the camera that follows Chicken around, and will be used if the two of them wander off into an area that we haven’t expected. However, we’ve placed 18 cameras throughout the arena! We have 10 set up throughout the rink and stands, and then 8 cameras in backstage areas, such as the locker room, lobby/concession area, and the bathroom. That’s my favorite…”

 

“What a shocker there! Anyway…”

 

Before Curry can get to his next point, “Your Disease” by Saliva hits over the PA system. The crowd boos as the Boston Strangler comes climbing down through the stands; his eyes focused on Munich. He slowly steps down, and finally reaches the floor of the arena. Strangler shouts at Exploding Chicken to open the door to the ice for him. Chicken mutters under his breath, and then moves forward, holding the door open for Strangler. Strangler glares at Chicken, and then crosses onto the ice. As Strangler moves away, Chicken murmurs “Stupid motherclucker…”, drawing Strangler’s attention. As Strangler whirls around, looking at Chicken, all he finds is the announcer involved in a discussion with Ahmed. Strangler whirls back, and nearly falls over on the ice, drawing laughs from the four other men in the rink, as well as the crowd, watching from the Target Center.

 

“And introducing the IGNWF HARDCORE GAMER’S CHAMPION, from BOSTON, MASSACHUSETTS, weighing in at 294 POUNDS, THE BOSTON…STTRRRRRANGLER!”

 

Strangler fully straightens himself up, and then continues to walk toward center ice. Strangler moves slowly, being careful not to slip again. He finally arrives at center ice, with a look of relief on his face, and looks up to see Munich staring at him, with a HUGE grin on his face. Strangler tries to return the grin, but instead flashes a nervous look at Munich, and then stares down at the ice. Baker speaks to the two men quickly, then calls for the start of the match. Back in the Target Center, the bell rings to signal the start of the match.

 

DING DING DING!

 

Munich quickly lashes out with a right hand, sending Strangler slipping backwards. The big man starts spinning his arms, and then manages to right himself just as Munich balances himself on one foot, and lashes out with a kick aimed straight at Strangler’s chest. The kick lands directly in the middle of Strangler’s ribcage, sending him thundering to the ground. As he falls to the ice with a loud thud, Strangler sends his right foot flailing wildly in Munich’s direction. Strangler’s boot wraps around Munich’s left ankle, pulling him off balance as well. Munich tries to keep his balance on his right foot, but fails, and goes crashing to the ice as well.

 

“NTD, this might not exactly be a technical masterpiece tonight…”

 

Strangler pulls himself over to Munich, and launches into him with a series of hard right hands to Munich’s head. Munich fights to free himself from Strangler’s vise-like grip as he continues to batter the smaller man. Munich finally sends his forearm smashing into Strangler’s gut, toppling Strangler and giving Munich a chance to shake off the early assault.

 

“Kaboom! What a start to this never-before-seen brawl!”

 

Strangler struggles to push himself up, and starts sliding along the red line toward the boards. Munich scrambles to his feet with relative ease, and notices Strangler apparently running for cover. Munich begins to job lightly, going as fast as he possibly can on the ice, and starts to gain ground on Munich. Strangler, still on his hands and knees, hears the noise on the ice behind him. He turns, and sees Munich rapidly gaining ground on him. Munich then launches himself into the air, aiming straight at Strangler. Strangler goes rolling off to the side, and Munich lands flat on his face on the ice. As the crowd back at the Target Center groans, with a few laughs scattered in, Munich slides across the ice, directly along the red line, until he goes smashing into the base of the boards. Munich’s head collides with the hard plastic, and he lies there, unmoving, in a pile.

 

“Ouch! Munich could be in some serious trouble here!” crows Exploding Chicken. “That was a nasty shot against the boards.” The referee comes gliding over, and comes to a sharp strop at the side of Munich. The referee bends over and checks on Munich as Strangler finishes sliding over to the boards, over by the blue line, and pushes himself up on the ice. The referee notices Strangler making his way toward the downed wrestler, and quickly skates away. Strangler uses the boards to keep himself balanced as he moves cautiously toward Munich. He pauses at the edge of one of the benches, and then reaches over the plastic. He fumbles around with something on the ground, then emerges with a hockey stick and a puck.

 

“Kaboom! Curry, NTD, Strangler’s got a kluk-kluk-puck!”

 

“How is he still working for this company, NTD?”

 

“How are WE still working for this company, Curry?”

 

“Point taken…”

 

Strangler drops the puck to the ice, and then grips the hockey stick, trying to fit in into his hands. Strangler, still awkwardly wielding the stick, moves toward Munich, who is finally getting up while holding his sore neck. Munich is halfway to his feet before he crumples back to the ice as Strangler lifts the stick into the air, and sends the blade crashing down on the back of Munich’s neck. The Chicago native has the presence of mind to cover his face and head before Strangler’s weapon comes crashing down on Munich again. Munich moans, and rolls onto his back, leaving his front completely exposed. Strangler breaks into a perverse smile just before sending his hockey stick slicing through the air, directly toward Munich’s exposed groin. The stick slams into Munich’s genitals, and shatters upon impact as Munich’s eyes open wide, and his jaw drops. The blade of the stick goes skittering across the ice as Strangler slowly begins to lower himself to the ice, as the referee comes skating back over.

 

“Dear god! NTD, did you see that?”

 

“How could you miss that? Munich’s gonna be feeling that for a long time! I mean, the stick SHATTERED!”

 

Strangler finally gets down on his knees, and reaches toward Munich. Suddenly, Munich lashes upward with a sharp right to Strangler’s jaw, sending the surprised Clannie reeling backwards. Strangler quickly recovers, and lunges forward once again, looking to regain the advantage. His huge right clothesline misses high, however, and Munich turns to face Strangler, who has his back to Munich. Munich seizes the opportunity, and grabs ahold of Strangler’s arm, using his momentum to force Strangler onto the ice. Munich wraps around Strangler’s right forearm, and locks on a crucifix armbar. Strangler yowls in pain, and starts to pull away, trying to free himself from Munich’s vicious maneuver. Munich starts screaming at Strangler, shouting obscenities at him as he tries to rein in the larger man. Strangler finally manages to escape, and goes crashing to the ice with a loud thud.

 

“Well, Munich has taken a bad situation, and completely turned things around! But how did he shake off that incredibly vicious shot to the groin, NTD?”

 

“I honestly don’t know….Chicken, can you see anything from down there?”

 

The camera view changes to one of Exploding Chicken craning his neck, staring out over the rink. “No, NTD, I can’t see anything….wait! Munich’s reaching into his shorts!”

 

“OH YES!”

 

“No! Not this again, NTD!” shouts Curry. “Both hands on the table!”

 

“Oh my god!” screams Chicken. “Curry, NTD, look! Munich just pulled a steel cup out of his shorts!”

 

Sure enough, Munich has drawn a shiny steel cup out of his pants, much to the delight of the crowd back at the Target Center. As NTD salivates, Munich smashes the cup into Strangler’s cheekbone, then begins rubbing it across Strangler’s face. “No-good piece of dog #&@%, #@$@ *$*@^!” screams Munich as he continues to go to work, putting pressure on Strangler’s face. Finally, Munich stands up, and releases his vicious hold on Munich. He tosses the cup into the stands, and then reaches down and pulls a confused and battered Strangler to his feet while maintaining his balance on the ice.

 

“That’s just disgusting, NTD!”

 

The camera shifts to a shot of NTD, staring lustfully at the monitor in front of him. “Hey, Chicken, get that cup! I want it….for the IGNWF museum. Yeah…”

 

“You sick freak…”

 

Munich twirls a still-dazed Strangler around until the Clannie is facing Munich. Munich then grabs ahold of Strangler’s shirt, and starts pulling it up over Strangler’s head. Strangler resists, but Munich easily overcomes the resistance, and gets the shirt completely over Strangler’s head before laying into him with crazy, flailing punches. Blow after blow rains down upon Strangler’s exposed back and blinded head, slowly dropping Strangler to his knees. Munich begins to scream once again, yelling “NOBODY F*CKS WITH MUNICH!” as he sends one last shot into Strangler’s covered jaw. The final blow sends a kneeling Strangler tumbling backwards to the ice. Strangler’s bare back hits the ice first, causing Strangler to quickly shout in a rather high voice. The crowd erupts into laughter as the shivering Strangler desperately pulls the shirt back off of his head, and covers his back.

 

“Strangler is being completely and utterly dominated by Munich! This is brutal!”

 

“Curry, this match is FAR from over! Give Strangler some time to get back into this!”

 

“All right….I’ll give him the time. I don’t know if Munich will, though.”

 

Munich pulls Strangler to his feet, and then slowly pushes a passive Strangler back against the boards. The two men are down at one end by the blue line, and Munich has Strangler up against the plastic, with three feet of Plexiglas rising above the rink’s rim. Munich pulls Strangler’s shirt back up to around Strangler’s neck, exposing Strangler’s chest again. Munich steps back, winds up, and slams his open hand into Strangler’s chest with a WICKED knife-edge chop. Strangler lets out a meek-sounding moan, and slips slightly down the boards. Munich, with a look of unbridled intensity on his face, winds up again, and smashes into Strangler’s chest again, harder than the first time. Strangler slips even further down the boards, then drops to the ice completely as Munich’s third chop slams into him harder than the two before them.

 

“Don’t worry, Curry. Strangler has Munich right where he wants him…”

 

“And how exactly does that work, NTD?”

 

“Um…I don’t know, but Strangler does! So says the Clan!”

 

“Right….Chicken, what do things look like down there?”

 

“Curry, things are…KABOOM!…exploding in Strangler’s face! He’s being physically dominated by Munich! Ahmed, get a close up!”

 

After some muttering, Ahmed heads forward, and moves up against the Plexiglas. He zooms in, and gives everyone a look at Strangler’s pathetic situation. Strangler sits on the ice, his shirt halfway up his chest, while Munich is sending a few quick kicks into his midsection. Finally, Munich pulls Strangler up yet again, and grabs ahold of Strangler’s forearm. Munich sets himself as best he can, and then pushes off, sending Strangler slipping and sliding across the ice. Strangler immediately thrusts out his hands, and starts flailing away, doing his best to keep his balance. Chicken, Ahmed, Curry, and the entire Target Center burst into laughter as Strangler, with a look of complete fear and bewilderment, continues sliding across the ice.

 

“HAHAHAHA! NTD, did you see that? Strangler looks like a 5-year-old out there! This is hilarious!”

 

“No it isn’t! This is serious business! Have some respect!”

 

Finally, Strangler sees the boards just a few short feet away from him. Strangler goes sailing straight into the boards, and grabs ahold of the wall, glad to be stopped. He looks around at his position, halfway between the blue line and the goal line, with a towering wall of Plexiglas rising up behind him. Suddenly, he notices Munich sliding/running toward him across the rink, and gaining steam fast. Munich then jumps through the air, aimed straight at Strangler’s completely unprotected head and neck. Strangler has just enough time to duck and put his hands up in the air. Munich’s expression turns from one of confidence and aggression to a look of complete horror as Strangler’s hands are planted on the underside of his chest, helping to propel him forward even faster. Munich goes sailing into the glass, and shatters it, sending him flying to the outside in a deluge of small pieces of the Plexiglas while Strangler puts his hands over his head, trying to protect himself from the danger.

 

“HOLY ****! NTD, did you see that?”

 

“Yes I did! I told you Strangler had him where he wanted him!”

 

“Shut up, NTD! Chicken, is Munich OK?”

 

Chicken’s halting voice booms through the Target Center, which is silent, waiting for news. “It doesn’t look good, Curry. Munich is lying here in a pile of glass, and he’s openly bleeding from numerous cuts on his face! Munich’s strategy has just…KABOOM!…blown up in his face!”

 

Strangler gets to his feet, and slowly brushes the loose pieces of glass out of his stringy hair. He looks over the barrier, and sees Munich lying there, unmoving. Strangler brushes off the rink wall, and then places his hands on it, looking to climb over the wall. Strangler moves slowly, and takes a good ten seconds to clear the 3-foot high wall. He stalks over toward Munich, who is still lying, motionless, on his stomach. Strangler kicks at some of the glass surrounding Munich on the ground, creating a space. He then kneels in the freshly cleared area, and rolls Munich onto his back. The sound of broken glass echoes throughout the arena, and Munich moans as more shards of glass dig into his bloody back. Strangler, now bleeding from a small cut on his knee, hooks Munich’s leg, and goes for the cover. The referee, however, is just getting over the wall, due to his skates. Strangler looks up, and barks at the slow referee to hurry up. Finally, Baker is in position. He gets down, then looks at the glass-covered floor in trepidation. After a moment of thinking, Baker instead reaches for one of the skates, which he has taken off, and starts to make the count on the upper part of the skate.

 

“Strangler’s done it, Curry! It’s over! So says the Clan!”

 

ONE!

 

 

 

TWO!!

 

 

 

THREE!!

 

“NO! MUNICH KICKED OUT! HE KICKED OUT!”

 

“What? How in the blue hell did Munich just kick out of that? He’s barely 30 seconds removed from flying through a huge sheet of glass! He should be dead!”

 

“NTD, Munich’s one tough SOB!”

 

“Kluk kluk! Curry, look at Strangler’s face! He’s about ready to kill Baker!”

 

Sure enough, Strangler is already to his feet. Now that Strangler is on solid ground on the outside, he quickly stalks over toward Baker, who is backing away, trying to avoid some of the shards of glass. Strangler is completely enraged, screaming obscenities at the rookie referee. Baker tries to calm down the furious Bostonian, but instead only succeeds in getting a right fist to the face. Baker sinks to the ground, completely decimated by Strangler’s massive fist slamming into his head. Strangler’s mood lessens slightly, but the incensed look on his face remains as he begins to stalk back toward Munich, still in complete disbelief over the recent turn of events.

 

“NTD, Strangler just laid out the referee! How can he win this? We aren’t at the arena, so there are no referees to take Baker’s place! Strangler may have committed a HUGE mental error there!”

 

“That ref will be up in five minutes max! Strangler can EASILY control Munich until then!”

 

Strangler reaches Munich, who is STILL not moving, and pulls the completely drained man to his feet. Munich offers no resistance as Strangler grabs ahold of Munich’s collar, and leads him further away from the pile of glass, and the rink. Strangler approaches a door in the back of the arena, and uses Munich’s head as a battering ram. The door goes flying open, and Munich goes bursting through, with Strangler directly behind him. Munich goes flying into the wall, but Strangler reaches Munich, and holds him upright before Munich has a chance to drop to the ground. As Exploding Chicken and Ahmed come bursting through the door, and the camera angle switches to one of the stationary cameras situated in the hallway, Strangler grabs ahold of Munich’s forearm. He pulls Munich toward him, and then levels him with his right arm. The clothesline sends Munich on a direct line to the ground, but Strangler refuses to release his grip on Munich’s arm. As Munich goes limp, Strangler’s arm goes taut, and then starts pulling Munich back into a standing position. Munich is jerked back up, and then goes tumbling down like a rag doll as Strangler hits him with another vicious clothesline. Before Munich is even given a chance to act, Strangler brings Munich back into a standing position, then levels him yet again with a third clothesline.

 

“Curry, Strangler is picking Munich apart! This match is as good as ever! Now we’re just waiting on Baker to make it official!”

 

“NTD, Strangler was getting his ass KICKED five minutes ago! Give Munich a chance!”

 

“Well, I will, but I don’t know if Strangler will…”

 

“You phrase-stealing bastard!”

 

“PUPPIES!”

 

Strangler pulls Munich up yet again, but instead of sending him to the floor once again, he allows Munich to stay on his feet. Munich is dragged along by the massive Bostonian as he stalks down the hallway, which apparently abuts all the locker rooms. Strangler pauses as he reaches a door marked “HOME LOCKER ROOM #1”, and then throws Munich through the hinged door. Munich goes tumbling to the floor of the locker room, where he remains as Strangler saunters into the locker room. Chicken and Ahmed are directly behind the Clannie, who is covered in his own blood, as well as Munich’s. Munich lies on the floor, with his face a mask of crisscrossing crimson lines. Strangler slowly picks up Munich, taking his time as the smaller man offers absolutely no resistance to Strangler’s force. As soon as Munich is on his feet, Strangler wraps his arms around Munich’s waist. Munich tries to crumple to the mat, but Strangler supports him, and then, with a grunt, tosses Munich over his head with a belly to belly suplex. Munich goes flying through the air, then crashes, back-first, into a row of lockers behind him. A groan arises from the Target Center fans as Munich drops to the ground, and Strangler turns to look at his handiwork.

 

“Strangler has absolutely destroyed Munich! Munich’s back could have been broken with that last move!”

 

“Curry, Munich knew what this match would be about! Anything that happens to him is HIS fault!”

 

Strangler reaches down, and grabs ahold of Munich’s left hand. Leaving Munich on the ground, Strangler starts dragging Munich through the locker room. He heads through the back of the room, and into the shower area, which is completely empty, and completely dry. Strangler drags Munich underneath one of the showerheads, and quickly turns on the water. Munich jerks in surprise on the ground as the water begins to soak him from head to toe. Blood that’s caked onto Munich begins to run down to the drain as Munich gets progressively wetter. After 30 seconds or so, Strangler turns off the shower, and picks up a soaking wet, dripping Munich. The wrestler begins to shiver as Strangler picks him up, delivers a quick punch into Munich’s gut, and then heads back out through the locker room.

 

“See, Curry! Strangler cares about Munich! He wanted to clean him off! That blood can be a real bitch sometimes!”

 

“So can you, Curry! He just did that to make it even worse for Munich when they head back out onto the ice!”

 

“Always the negative thinker, Curry…”

 

Chicken and Ahmed hustle to keep up with Strangler, who seems to be in a real hurry to get out toward the rink. Strangler comes flying out of the hallway, still dragging Munich along. However, the two men have come out a different door, and they find themselves in a far corner of the arena, across from the pool of broken glass. Strangler looks around, getting his bearings, and then notices a small obtrusion from the wall. He takes a better look, and notices a sign that reads:

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

SKATE SHARPENING

EQUIPMENT

ZAMBONI ENTRANCE

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Strangler’s face erupts in a huge grin, and, still dragging Munich along, Strangler heads toward the door leading to the equipment room.

 

“Kluk kluk! Curry, NTD, things are getting real interesting down here! The two men have just gone into the area where they sharpen skates and keep the zamboni, among other things!”

 

“NTD, this can only mean one thing!”

 

“Free hippos?”

 

“NO! A lot of pain for Munich and Strangler both!”

 

“That was my next guess…”

 

Strangler appears in the skate room, where over 30 pairs of skates of assorted types and TONS of sticks are simply lying around. Strangler also notices two buckets of hockey pucks, situated right next to the sharpening wheel. Strangler’s face twists into an evil look yet again, and he drags Munich toward the wheel. Strangler releases Munich momentarily, and searches for the power switch. After a few seconds, Strangler finds the switch, and flips it to the ON position. The wheel begins to turn, moving slowly, then faster and faster with each successive rotation. Strangler reaches down for Munich, but instead goes slamming against the wall as Munich swings upward, smashing a hockey puck held in his right hand directly into Strangler’s nose. Blood slowly begins to drip from Strangler’s nose as Munich sends his left hand, also containing a puck, into Strangler’s face as well. Strangler’s face starts to turn bright red as well as Munich winds up with both hands, then smashes the pucks into Strangler’s temples. The big man crumples to the ground under the force of the blows, and Munich, still struggling to stay on his feet, switches off the skating wheel.

 

“What a spectacular comeback by Munich! Desperation at its best!”

 

“Desperation is right, Curry! Now he has to follow those moves up! MUCH harder to do!”

 

Munich notices a metal folding chair, and heads over toward it. As Chicken cringes in anticipation of what will happen, Munich does something completely unexpected: He sits down on it. The entire crowd back at the Target Center murmurs as Munich takes a seat, and tries to regroup. He notices a spare hockey uniform nearby, and then looks down at his soaking wet clothes. He glances over at Strangler, who is still bleeding, but not moving, and then decides to make his move. He tears off his soaked shirt, and throws on the hockey jersey, with a huge “WASHBURN” written on it. He then tears off his pants, which gets a favorable response from the ladies back at the Target Center, as well as NTD, and throws on the hockey pants, which only go down to his knees. Munich then tosses his old clothes out of the way, and heads for the downed Strangler, who is finally beginning to stir.

 

“Well, Munich has a fresh pair of clothes, and he’s certainly dressed for the occasion, NTD!”

 

“Too bad that no matter how he dresses himself up, he’ll still be a jobber! Strangler will DESTROY HIM!”

 

Munich grabs ahold of Strangler, and pulls him up before Strangler can reestablish the upper hand. Munich grabs Strangler by the forearm, and starts to lead him toward the door leading to the Zamboni room. Munich and Strangler go through the door at the same time, and appear directly next to the massive machine itself. Munich grabs Strangler by his hair, and sends the big man’s face flying straight into the side of the Zamboni. Strangler comes bouncing off the Zamboni, still reeling from the shots with the hockey pucks, and falls straight into Munich’s arms. Munich wastes no time by lifting Strangler into the air, and then smashing him onto the concrete floor with a massive spinebuster. Munich falls to the ground as well, and takes a moment or two to climb back to his feet while Strangler lies there, in a complete fog.

 

“Kaboom! Strangler is being destroyed by Munich! What a turnaround by the amazing Munich!”

 

“Chicken, for once, I agree wholeheartedly!”

 

NTD, with a disgusted look on his face, turns to Curry. “What is this, the Munich Fan Club? Strangler is still the Hardcore Champion until he’s pinned, and he won’t be pinned until that referee shows up!”

 

“NTD, I think you may have just jinxed Strangler! Look at that!”

 

“Kluk kluk! It’s Baker! The referee has finally figured out where the action is!”

 

Sure enough, the poor rookie referee has wandered into the Zamboni area, still holding his jaw. Upon seeing Munich coming to his feet, and Strangler lying motionless on the floor, he breaks into a grin. Munich is the last man to notice the resurgent ref, excluding Strangler, who isn’t noticing much of anything at the moment. As soon as he discovers Baker, he shouts at the ref to get in position. Munich drops right back to the floor, and rolls over onto Strangler to make the cover.

 

“Here we go, NTD! New Hardcore Champ!”

 

“I can’t watch!”

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

TWO!!

 

 

 

 

THREE!

 

“And Strangler kicks out in the nick of time! Dammit!”

 

Strangler rolls onto his side, vainly trying to get to his feet, while Munich looks up, with surprise on his face. He stares at the referee, who regrettably holds up two fingers. Munich doesn’t push the subject, but instead pushes himself to his feet with great effort. Reaching down, he grabs ahold of Strangler, and pulls him up as well. Munich drags Strangler over to the side of the Zamboni, where a small stepladder appears. Munich leaves Strangler standing, and then begins to climb up the Zamboni. After ten seconds or so, Munich is standing atop the 12 foot tall machine, and the crowd back at the Target Center is buzzing with excitement. Chicken and the referee look at each other, then slowly back away as Munich looks down at the men below him. Strangler, who is leaning against the Zamboni in an attempt to keep his footing, finally looks up, and sees Munich staring down at him from the top. Strangler swallows nervously as Munich readies himself, then leaps off the top of the Zamboni, spinning towards Strangler. Strangler hurriedly tries to escape, but fails as Munich slams into Strangler with a vicious spinning back elbow off the top of the Zamboni. Munich plows Strangler onto the cold, concrete floor, then falls to the ground himself. Munich’s momentum keeps him rolling along the ground, and over the top of Strangler. Munich ends up lying on his back, on the concrete floor, with Strangler’s hand lying on top of him, a fact that neither man seems to realize. The referee alertly notices it, and drops to the ground to begin the count.

 

ONE!

 

 

 

“What the hell? Strangler is going for the pin! How’d that happen?”

 

 

 

TWO!!

 

 

 

“I dunno, but Munich better figure it out fast, NTD!”

 

 

 

THREE…

 

“And Munich kicks out! God, that was a close one!”

 

Munich notices Strangler’s limp hand resting on his chest just in the nick of time, and manages to brush the hand off, ending the count. Munich and Strangler both begin to fight their way to their feet as Baker looks on, waiting for some action. “Kaboom! What a match! Ahmed, isn’t this the greatest match you’ve ever seen?” crows Chicken as Ahmed nods vigorously. Munich is the first to get to his feet, climbing to a standing position while Strangler is still getting to a knee. Munich hobbles around, favoring his right ankle, which was injured in the fall. He reaches Strangler, and pulls him up by his greasy black hair. Strangler tries to fight away from Munich, but is unable to escape. Munich, keeping his grip on Strangler’s hair, heads back through the skate shop, and tosses Strangler through the skate shop door, tossing him to the area surrounding the hockey rink.

 

“And these two men have finally returned to the rink area! NTD, this match has been absolutely brutal so far! How much more can these two men take?”

 

“Strangler can go for miles! But Munich…he’s about to run out of gas, in my humble opinion.”

 

Strangler starts to force himself to his feet, with the look on his face one of complete exhaustion and desperation. A determined Munich comes through the door that Strangler went flying through only moments before, and heads directly for the beleaguered Strangler. Strangler is almost to his feet when Munich’s hands wrap around the back of his shirt once again. With a desperation move, Strangler lashes out with a vicious back kick, which catches Munich in his now-unprotected groin. Munich falters backwards, and releases his grip on Strangler’s shirt. Strangler turns slowly, fatigued from his battle, and finds Munich doubled over by the edge of the rink. Strangler seizes the opportunity, and reaches over for Munich, hooking his head underneath his arms. He sets him up, then drops him straight to the floor with a double arm DDT, leaving Munich motionless on the ground.

 

“Lights Out from Strangler, and it could be lights out for Munich! Go Clan!” screams NTD in jubilation.

 

Strangler drops to the mat, and hooks Munich’s leg. The referee drops to the covered floor, and starts the count, hitting the floor like a little girl.

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

TWO!!

 

 

 

 

 

THREE!

 

“NO! Munich kicked out again! How is he still going?”

 

“NTD, he’s a damn tough fighter, and he sure as hell deserves this title!”

 

Strangler, with a look of complete and utter rage on his face, gets up, screaming at the referee. Baker immediately runs, remembering what happened earlier, and Strangler turns his attention back to Munich. He walks over to Munich, and pulls Munich up to his feet. Grabbing ahold of Munich’s new jersey, he drags Munich along as he heads across the rink, toward the huge pool of broken glass on the floor. Strangler gets about halfway across the rink, then stops, and pins Munich up against the boards, from the outside. Chicken and Ahmed follow along from behind, with Chicken clucking on about the brutality. Strangler slams Munich’s head into the boards, then delivers a hard shot with his right hand to Munich’s skull. Munich crumples back against the boards, and Strangler releases his grip on Munich’s hair. Strangler backs up, sizing up the increasing distance between the two men, and then charges forward, looking for a spear. Strangler continues his charge, but hits nothing but plastic as Munich ducks out of the way just in time. Strangler drops to the floor, holding his neck, as Munich, who is on his knees to the right of Strangler, starts to fight to his feet.

 

“Curry, NTD, Strangler just made a costly error! He may have just…KABOOM!…destroyed his hopes of holding onto that title!” screams Exploding Chicken into Ahmed’s camera.

 

Munich finally regains his vertical base, and struggles over to Strangler, who is struggling himself in his attempt to get back up. Munich reaches down, grabs ahold of Strangler, and yanks him up by the throat. Strangler’s face contorts into an expression of pain as he struggles to free himself from the grip on his neck. Munich leads Strangler over to the boards, and presses his face up against the board, smushing it against the unyielding Plexiglas. Munich then starts to walk while forcing Strangler’s face up against the boards, causing Strangler’s face to trail along the boards, leaving a faint smear of red as he goes. After a good 30 feet, Munich finally releases Strangler, dropping him to the ground a few feet from the pile of broken glass.

 

“NTD, this is about to get real serious….I hope one of these men doesn’t do something that they’re going to regret around that glass.”

 

“If they want to win that hardcore title, then they’re going to do a LOT of things that they’ll regret!”

 

Exploding Chicken and Ahmed arrive on the scene, coming in very close to the two men for a close-up. Ahmed focuses in on Strangler’s face, gnarled with pain, as Munich pulls the Bostonian to his feet. Munich stands behind Strangler, and brings Strangler’s left arm down between his legs, trapping Strangler in an abdominal stretch. Munich then hooks Strangler’s right arm around his bicep, partially pinning Strangler’s arm down. As Munich sets up Strangler for a pumphandle powerbomb, Strangler frantically looks around for a way to avoid a bloody and painful fate. He notices Ahmed only a couple of feet away from his outstretched hand, and suddenly the look on his face goes from one of fear to one of intensity. He strains as hard as he can, reaches out, and snatches the camera directly out of Ahmed’s hands. Ahmed screams, and Chicken starts yelling at Ahmed as Strangler brings the camera down, then swings it upward with all his strength. The camera collides with Munich’s skull, knocking the Chicago native for a loop. He relaxes his grip on Strangler, freeing him, and staggers forward onto the pile of glass, up against the boards leading to the ice.

 

“Strangler just used that TV camera! That was our feed camera too! Get to another angle!”

 

After Curry’s urging, the angle goes to one from halfway up in the stands, with an excellent view of the action. As the camera zooms in, it shows Strangler sneaking up alongside a completely unaware Munich. Before Munich has a chance to react, Strangler grabs Munich from behind, and tucks Munich’s head underneath his arm. The crowd at the Target Center begins to boo as Strangler backs up slightly, and raises his left arm into the air. As Strangler backs up, he backs into the boards, slamming Munich’s head against them. Strangler looks backwards at the waist-high boards, and then the look on his face gets even more sadistic. He sets himself even more firmly, and then, with a HUGE groan, lifts Munich in a horizontal position off the ground. Strangler gets Munich a good two or three feet off the floor, then pushes backwards with all his might, dropping Munich’s head over the boards. Munich goes tumbling down, spiking straight into the glass-covered ice as the crowd goes absolutely silent, and Exploding Chicken stops screaming at Ahmed long enough to observe the damage.

 

“Dear God! Last Breath! Strangler just lifted Munich up, and gave him that reverse DDT drop over the barrier, onto the glass-covered ice! That was just plain sickening!”

 

“It’s over, Curry! The Spicy One’s favorite wrestler is DONE! Strangler’s got it in the bag! YES!”

 

Strangler painfully steps over the boards, looking as if he is in genuine pain. He gets to the ice, and is forced to sweep even more of the glass away. Strangler waits for the referee to climb over the boards, and then makes the cover, not even bothering to hook the leg as the unconscious Munich lies there in complete silence.

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

TWO!!

 

 

 

 

THREE!!!

 

 

DING DING DING!

 

Funyon’s voice comes blaring over the system once again: “YOUR WINNER, and STILL IGNWF HARDCORE GAMER’S CHAMPION, THE BOSTON…STRRRRRRRANGLER!”

 

Strangler rolls over, and sits up in a haze. He looks around, taking a good ten seconds until the result has registered in his mind. He then springs up as best he can, looking more like a dead donkey than an energetic young man, but manages to get to his feet anyway. He reaches for the HGC Title belt, which Baker has carried around the ring with him, and rips it away from the ref’s grasp. He raises the title into the air, with a look of incredible relief on his face.

 

“And Strangler wins a VERY hard fought battle between himself and Munich!”

 

“It was never even close, Curry! Strangler dominated throughout, and the best man won! Plain and simple!”

 

“Well, moving on….hey, wait a minute! What the hell?”

 

Strangler turns to view the entire arena, the site of his conquest, but instead is plowed into the ice. Strangler smashes into the ice, caught completely off guard. The referee whirls around, surprised by the sound of commotion, and sees a man beating away on Strangler. Strangler has no energy left, and his resistance is feeble as the assailant continues to pound the living hell out of Strangler. Strangler’s head is pounded again and again into the ice, opening up a vicious cut on the back of his skull. As blood begins to form in a small pool on the ice, the referee, against his instinct, goes to force the man off of Strangler.

 

“Chicken! Chicken! What the hell is happening?”

 

“Ahmed, you’re…KABOOM!…fired! Get the hell out of…”

 

“CHICKEN!”

 

“Wha…what do you want?”

 

“Look at the ice, idiot! Who the hell is that?”

 

“It’s the Boston Strangler! He just won….oh! What the hell?”

 

The referee finally pries the man off of Strangler, who drops down into a puddle of his own blood on the ice. The referee starts screaming at the man, demanding to know who he is. As the man looks up, the referee’s eyes widen with a sign of recognition and surprise. He then turns, and Chicken gasps before speaking.

 

“Curry, NTD, that’s….that’s….kluk kluk…”

 

“WHO THE HELL IS IT, CHICKEN?”

 

“It’s…KABOOM!…LDP! It’s Longdogger Pete!”

 

“The JL’er? What the hell is he doing here?” questions Curry, with a look of complete confusion on his face.

 

Pete stares at Chicken, who simply stares back and waves at Pete. Pete continues to glare at Chicken, then returns the wave, and then bolts off the ice. He leaps over a passed-out Munich, hops over the guardrail, and runs for the door of the arena. Chicken goes chasing after him, but stops halfway as he hears the sound of a car pulling away as fast as possible.

 

“NTD, that was LDP, and he just pulled away from the rink after that brutal hit and run attack on Strangler!”

 

“Why would he try and take out Strangler, especially someone as cute as he is? I mean, LDP is a JL’er! He and Strangler aren’t even in the same league!”

 

“Kluk kluk! Boys, I heard LDP muttering something about target! I think he may be headed to From the Fire!”

 

“Dear Lord….well, we’ll see what happens soon enough! Anyway, we still have a night of incredible action left! And NTD, I get the feeling that there’ll be some great surprises left to come!”

 

“Tonight I’m Burning” by Bombshell Rocks begins blaring over the PA system as the picture fades to a commercial for the next WF PPV. As the last shot of the hockey rink is shown, a shot of the referee tending to the unconscious Munich, side by side with the unconscious Strangler, still clutching his title belt, fades to black.

[Secret Agent 0]

This is a match i found written by umm...some other guy, yeah. Anyways it is far from a shittiest effort but where else do i post it.

 

This is the Boston Strangler vs Brimstone Throw in the towel match with Kruger being Stranglers towelman and Jake Helmsly in the Brimstone corner.

 

_____________________________

 

With the Crimson theme blaring the IGNTron lights up, showing Brimstone walking down the dark corridors of the Halifax arena. Carrying an IGN Tag Stables title over his shoulder, he walks with the fiercest amount of determination. Following close behind is Jacob Helmsley with a towel appropriately slung over his shoulder. “Coming up next” highlights the corner of the screen, as Crimson fades to commercials.

 

Inside they wait anxiously as commercial after commercial is displayed upon the IGNTron, some have been seen a million times some are being seen for the first time. The groans grow as Funyon stands smack dab in the middle of the ring, trying to persuade this crowd to stop by the merchandising booth after the show and pick up a new Matt Meyers holloween mask. Suddenly the crowd jumps to their feet with a new found spark of life as IGNJL returns from commercials! The cameras swoop down to display a few of the various homemade signs. After a few seconds the cameras change their direction to the color commentators table helmed by Bobby Riley and Axis.

 

Axis: Once again, we are back! Coming at you live from the Halifax Arena, in Halifax, Nova Scotia, Canada!! So far tonight the action has been fast paced and pulse pounding from start to finish!

 

Riley: But, Axis....We haven’t finished yet.

 

Axis: Exactly! The finale of tonight’s broadcast will pit the IGNJL World Title number one contender, The Boston Strangler against one part of the IGNJL Tag Stables Champions, Brimstone!

 

Riley: This isn’t any ordinary match either folks. As you know the heads of the JL always need to throw in some special added bonus to spice up the party, and tonight is no different! These two competitors will compete in a “Throw in the towel” match.

 

Axis: And in case any one at home is wondering “Just what in the hell is that?” Well The Boston Strangler will have in his corner, IGNJL World Champion, and fellow member of the Clan, John Kruger. While Brimstone will have Jacob Helmsley, a fellow Red Storm Rising evil doer in his corner. Each of the two corner men will have a towel, and when their partner is finished for...can’t take another lick of pain..or just down right sucks monkey balls...It will be up to the corner man to throw in the towel for their partner.

 

Riley: And that...Is the only way this match will end! I think I’m ready to see how this one plays out! If its anything like Metal, where Brimstone literally ripped the Clan to shreds than the Boston Strangler is in for a world of hurt. Too bad for Brimstone though because this isn’t Metal and the Boston Strangler is on a mission to prove to the world that he is worthy of the world title!

 

Axis: Meh, enough chatter..Lets get this one started!

 

Slowly the lights inside the arena fade as “Godzilla” by Blue Oyster Cult kicks up! The crows fire off with an immediate round of heat as The Boston Strangler steps foot onto the ramp, decked out in his pitch black trench coat and traditional Oakley shades! Slowly the emergence of John Kruger sparks another booing session by the crowds. On one shoulder the IGNJL World Title is perfectly slung, while the other plays home to a white linen towel.

 

Funyon: Entering first in this throw in the towel match! He hails from Boston Massachuttes, standing at six foot eight and weighing in at two hundred and ninety four pounds...He is the BOOOOOSTOOOON STRANGLER!!! His corner man for this match is the IGNJaayyL World Champion...JOOOOHN KRUGER!!!

 

Axis: Well these two certainly don’t look too concerned about this match.

Riley: Why should they? They are the Clan! The only thing they worry about is HOW they will go about destroying someone! They are without a shadow of a doubt the fiercest and deadliest group ever to emerge in this federation!

 

Axis: Yeah sure, Bobby. These two have been on the verge of killing each other recently! I hardly think the Clan is even considered a threat anymore.

 

Riley: Go tell that to Kruger! I’m sure he would love to hear that come out of your fat tongue!

 

The Boston Strangler takes to the high ground of the ring, raising his arms to the crowds, who boo and mock him. Kruger on the other hand chooses his corner to hold down for the match. Godzilla fades out as a warm red hue cuts through the arena’s darkness, as a crack of thunder echoes out through the speakers! BOOOMM!! The noise startles the unexpecting audience, as “Where Ever I May Roam” Roars out from the speakers! Not quite as sudden as it use to be, because everyone now waits for it...A huge wall of fire shreds through the Entrance ramp like a hot knife through butter! As quickly as it came the fire dispenses, leaving Brimstone and Jacob Helmsley in its wake!

 

Funyon: Now entering the ring from Oklahoma City, Oklahoma! He stands at six foot seven and weighs in at three hundred and fourty seven pounds....BRIMSTOOOOOONNNE!!! His corner man is a member of Red Storm Rising and is a kin to Triple H...JAAAACOB HELMSLEY!!!

 

Axis: The underdog of this match. A win here could help to elevate Brimstone a bit in the race for a world title shot! If he can pull off the same effort as he did last Metal, his chances here are riding very high!

 

Riley: Well today is a brand new day! With Kruger not involved physically with this match, Strangler can turn all his focus to Brimstone and put him down!

 

Brimstone looks into the ring, laying his evil eye upon Strangler. The man who screwed him out of a number one contender spot for the world title. Brimstone makes a mad dash for the ring, and slides in under the top rope. Strangler advances on Brimstone as he stands up. These two titans ready to collide!

 

DING! DING! DING!

 

Axis: Here we go!

 

Strangler swings his fist out at Brimstone nailing the first shot of the match right into Brimstone’s jaw! WHAM! Not to be out done, Brimstone fires a quick right into Strangler’s chin as the two take turns trading blow after blow! WHAM! CRACK! WHAM! Brimstone swings again, which goes no where as Strangler puts his arm in between Brimstones fist and his head, blocking the punch! Furious, Brimstone swings one more! This time Strangler ducks letting Brimstone’s arm sail right over the top of his head as he locks his hands around Brimstone’s waist, and lifts him up for a belly to back suplex! WHAM! Brimstone crashes neck first into the mat, beginning the first round of pain for this match!

 

Axis: Vicious Suplex by Strangler! I think Brimstone may of landed a little to hard on that one!

 

Riley: Bah, one can never land hard enough....Unless of course it causes his body to be splattered all over the ring!

 

 

As Brimstone begins to stand back up, Strangler hammers his fist into the back of Brimstone’s neck. Each hit strikes a new chord of pain in his neck, still he reaches forward raking Strangler’s eye’s. Strangler steps back as his eyes water up, throwing his vision out of perspective right as Brimstone lunges for him! WHAM! WHAM! WHAM! Fist after fist finds it’s way to Stranglers face, knocking him straight to the mat! Brimstone throws himself over Strangler slamming his fist into Strangler over, and over, and over, and over again!!

 

Riley: Brimstone is really laying into Strangler! Too bad he can’t wrestle as good as he can punch!

 

Brimstone is abruptly pulled off of Strangler, when Kruger reaches in and pulls on Brimstone’s leg. Brimstone snaps his leg out, striking Kruger in the head! Suddenly Kruger is blindsided by Helmsley with a running clothes line on the outside!! WHAM!! Kruger rolls with the blow, jumping to his feet he assumes one of his many Kung Fu stances.

 

Axis: It certainly didn’t take too long for these “Corner Men” to get into it. I thought their only job was to throw in a towel.

 

Riley: What the hell are you smoking? Of course they were going to fight! However, I really don’t think Helmsley wants to take on Kung Fu Grip Kruger! He’s lean, He’s mean, and he’s invading a toy store near you!

 

Axis: What the….they made a Kruger action figure?

 

Riley: Hell yeah…everyone’s there. Well except you…they didn’t have a big enough box to contain your figure!

 

Axis: Hey! Hey! Kiss my ass!

 

Outside the ring Helmsley rushes in towards Kruger, but quickly finds himself headed for a head on collision with the steel steps, due to Kruger dodging him at the last moment! CLANGG!!! Back inside the ring Brimstone pulls a dazed Strangler to his feet and sends him flying into the ropes. He lowers his body and readies himself to catch Strangler. As the right moment approaches just seconds after Strangler bounces off the ropes, Brimstone leaps into the air leading with his foot which he thrust right into Stranglers chest!! CRACK!! Strangler flies back from the blow, landing right in the ropes and once again springing off of them! Brimstone snags Stranglers legs and lifts up on them, causing Stranglers head to slam into the mat!! Holding tight to Stranglers legs, Brimstone twist his body around hoping to torture him with lion tamer! NOO! Strangler still fights!! Using what energy he can find he tries to overpower Brimstone!

 

Axis: Brimstone is going for the “Walls of Hell”!! But Strangler is trying to fight back! Can he get it locked in!!

 

Brimstone sends a quick stomp of his foot into Stranglers head, ending any resistance and allowing him to finally lock in his terror! Strangler screams in agony!

 

Riley: Holy Hell!! I think Strangler might be in some pain there!

 

Axis: You think? It may be time for John Kruger to throw in that towel already!!

 

Riley: No way in hell! He can let Strangler suffer! Plus he is busy with Helmsley right now!

 

Helmsley pushes back on Krugers head with one arm, while trying to use his free arm to knock the towel out of Krugers hand and into the ring! Over and over Helmsley slams Krugers hand down, but his grip remains ever tight. Kruger finally thrust his knee into Helmsleys groin, dropping the man to the floor! Kruger turns his head, catching a glimpse of the action in the ring and jumps up to the ring apron. Brimstone still has Strangler in his submission maneuver, and the pain looks absolutely devastating to Kruger. Kruger rears his arm back, ready to toss in the towel! The crowds rise to their feet, ready to cheer for some winner....not yet it seems. Kruger‘s throwing arm lowers to his side. “No” He thinks, while shaking his head. “Strangler can hold out.”

 

Axis: Kruger isn’t budging!! Strangler is in a world of misery right now. Have some mercy, John!

 

Riley: Mercy is for the weak, and it’s also what your stomach keeps saying to you!

 

Tired of holding up The Stranglers weight, Brimstone drops his body to the canvas. Strangler can only lay there flat on his back, staring at the ceiling while the numbness begins to fade. Brimstone makes way towards Kruger’s direction, with that ever so familiar look of determination written all over his face. Kruger, standing on the outside apron should be easy pickings. Out of absolutely no where the referee unselfishly places himself between Brimstone and Kruger on the outside ropes. The referee orders Kruger to stand down, and a nut sac rubbing Jacob Helmsley to his proper corner. Brimstone spins around...CRACK!! Brimstone’s head is almost knocked from his shoulders as a fast recovering Strangler wraps the steel plating of a chair around Brimstone’s forehead! Brimstone’s eyes roll into the back of his head as he begins to fall backwards like a tree, crashing into the canvas!! Strangler slings the chair from out of the ring right as the referee(as if he were on cue.) turns back around.

 

Riley: Damn he’s good! The Strangler almost had me fooled there for a second with that whole....“Feel sorry for me, I’m in pain” act! Where’s his Oscar!! Best Actor of the century!

 

Axis: (while shaking his head in pittance of Riley) Lucky for Brimstone this isn’t a pin fall match or he would of been robbed for the second time in one week, by a lethal chair shot!

 

Riley: You don’t know the meaning of robbed! And NO!...being forcefully removed from the buffet is not considered robbery.

 

“Throw that <Beep>ing towel in!!” Strangler screams towards Helmsley, while holding up the very lifeless looking head of Brimstone! As stubborn as always, Jake crosses his arms and leans back against the crowd barrier. He isn’t giving in..not yet...not ever! Helmsley’s action pleases Kruger in the least, as he begins to make way for this hardheaded bastard. Kruger stops abruptly short of Helmsley, when he spots him standing there with a smile, casually flipping his nice thick metal pipe around his palm. Kruger beams a traditional stare of hatred towards him, cautiously backing himself away from the blast zone.

 

Riley: What in the...?? Where did he get that from? He better not be pulling our ring apart again or I swear by Allah..

 

Axis: Oh shut up. Anyways...Brimstone in the middle of the ring. Unconscious...battered...beaten! But Helmsley refuses to throw in the towel! What will these men put each other through in order to make the other submit?!?!

 

Riley: Not much because DQ is in effect.

 

Axis: You just have to go and spoil my build up, don’t you?

 

Riley: You were going somewhere with that? I mean hell if I knew, we don’t pay much attention to your rambling....I mean we all know i am by far the bestest commentator in this fed so why would we listen....to you?

 

Strangler pulls Brimstone to his feet by his chin. Looking into his eyes, Strangler can obviously tell that Brimstone is still quite the bit dazed. Strangler rears back his fist, plunging it deep into Brimstone’s skull! WHAM! The impact knocks Brimstone back into the turnbuckle, which is all to perfect for Strangler. WHAM!! Another punch by Strangler keeps Brimstone subdued as he begins to climb up the second rope, throwing fist after fist into Brimstone as he does! The crowd begins to count along as does the referee…one! Two! Three! Four! Five! Six! Seven! Suddenly Brimstone thrust Strangler off of him, throwing the equally big man straight to the mat! Brimstone turns his back to Strangler as he begins an attempt at climbing the turnbuckle. His throbbing head keeps him from making it to the top in a reasonable amount of time, giving Strangler enough time to gather himself and close in on his target! Brimstone faces the crowd…who for the first time in a while begin to cheer a little. Who they cheer for isn’t quite certain though as Strangler lays on hard right of a punch into the back of Brimstone’s head!

 

Axis: This is about to get very bad for Brimstone! The Strangler has him just where he wants him!!

 

Not quite. Brimstone reaches behind him, grabbing onto a good amount of Stranglers face. Brimstone flips himself backwards off the turnbuckle while holding onto Stranglers head, and taking him along for the ride! The hang in a picture perfect pose for an instant before the back of Stranglers head slams into the canvas with a vicious thud, with this backwards DDT!! WHAM!!!!! The entire ring almost shakes itself to it’s foundation!! Rivets and bolts can almost be seen popping out to the naked eye!!

 

Axis: By GAWD!! A backwards DDT from the top of the turnbuckle!! I think the Strangler is done for!!

 

Riley: I will give Brimstone an inch of credit here, before I strip that inch back from him. He turned around what could have been a very devastating situation for him..He better make good on it now though because that chance will never come again!

 

Brimstone pulls Strangler to his feet by his hair, and as quickly as Strangler stands Brimstone forces him back to the mat, smashing his knee into Stranglers forehead! Strangler’s head bounces off of Brimstone’s knee like a basketball, almost flipping his entire body as he crumbles into the mat!! On the outside of the ring, John Kruger watches on. He looks down at his towel, wondering…”Should I?” Looking back to the ring, he bears witness to Stranglers now blood soaked face as Brimstone sends blow after crippling blow into him!

 

Axis: My word! This match has become more of a brutal slugfest than a wrestling match! They will kill each other before we see a towel thrown in!

 

Riley: As much as I would hate to see it, Kruger really needs to throw in that towel! The Boston Strangler is bleeding from head to toe!! He won’t be much of a good fight at Metal for the world title…wait a sec..Kruger wouldn’t! It wouldn’t be fair!

 

Axis: Since when does Kruger fight fair?

 

Riley: Good point….errm…All part of a master plan…Yes a plan it is!

 

Brimstone slings Strangler right into the corner turnbuckle they previously visited before. CLANG!! The hollow metal sound vibrates through the crowd as Strangler smacks right into it!! Brimstone backs himself into the opposite turnbuckle waiting for Strangler to rise. Slowly Strangler does begin to get up, using the ropes as his guide. He barley has time to think as he sees Brimstone charging for him like a crazed bull, headed for a barrel with a big red X on it!!

 

Riley: GORE!! GORE!! GORE!!

 

Once again…not quite. Strangler tosses his body out of the way letting Brimstone’s head slam right into the pole!! CLANGG!!! Brimstone’s bounces off the turnbuckle, spinning around in the most disoriented state of his life!

 

Axis: NOBODY HOME!! Strangler wisely ducking out of harms reach, just in the nick of time!

 

Grabbing Brimstone by his arm, Strangler whips him to the ropes. Strangler keeps his eye on his target, watching him spring off the ropes and aimlessly running right back to him as he lowers himself to intercept his victim. With the momentum of his run Brimstone is easily lifted off his feet by Strangler, who slams Brimstone down onto his knee with a spine buster! Brimstone’s body rockets off the Strangler’s knee and crashes back first into the mat! Strangler lifts Brimstones legs up, inserting his own in between them as he twist Brimstones leg around his like a pretzel!!

 

Axis: The Boston Strangler has a sharp shooter locked in!! This could be it for the leader of Red Storm Rising!

 

Riley: Well, Brimstone did tell Helmsley that if he threw in the towel he might as well through his own body into a fiery furnace! However, I think Brimstone would really appreciate that towel right about now!

 

The pain courses through him like no other, as he bites down on his lips trying to keep the pain inside. Not quite as successful as he had hoped, a thunderous cry of pain roars from his mouth!! Brimstone uses all the strength he can conjure up, trying to claw his way to the ropes! Back on the outside Jake, grabs his towel ready to toss it in and save his partner from anymore anguish. Jake looks over at Kruger, who stands over on the other side of the ring smiling, and beckoning Jake to throw it in.

 

Riley: Come on Helmsley! Brimstone is almost dead! It’s far time to swallow your pride and toss that towel where it belongs…..IN THE RING!!

 

Axis: Helmsley is just giving his partner the benefit of the doubt here! Out of anyone who can fight back pain, Brimstone is the leader of the pack!

 

Riley: Maybe a six pack of your sugar packed beverage, Pepsi Max! Just look at him…He is crying like a baby! Jake…towel…toss it….now!

 

Finally after much effort Brimstone can feel the ropes gliding across his finger tips as he reaches his arm out to it’s limit! Brimstone lets out a snarling growl as he gives one last lunging effort for the ropes, alas it is not to be though as Strangler drags him back to the middle of the ring! “Time to end this b*tch!” Strangler thinks to himself, as he rears back on Brimstones leg even farther! Strangler’s blood stained face hollers out in laughter, like the demented soul that he is as he bends Brimstones leg to a near breaking point! Brimstone shills of pain from the added pressure, and not two seconds later he finds his hand slamming into the canvas, signaling that he has submitted to the Boston Strangler!

 

Axis: BRIMSTONE IS TAPPING OUT!! The one man killing machine has stands all he can, and he can’t stands no more! But the only way to end this is for Helmsley to throw that towel in!!

 

Riley: Towel, Helmsley towel!! Toss it in! This match belongs to the Clan!

 

Jake jumps up to the outside ring apron with his towel in tow! He pauses for a second biting his lip, hoping that just maybe Brimstone will be able to turn this situation around. Inside the ring Brimstone slams his hand into the canvas harder and harder, he wants no more of this pain!! Finally a towel enters the ring, landing only a few inches away from the two warriors! The referee sees it and immediately calls for the bell!

 

Ding! Ding! Ding!

 

Riley: The Boston Strangler has done it! He didn’t look to hot earlier on, but now he has shown why he belongs in the world title race with his fellow clans men John Kruger!

 

Axis: Umm…you might want to hold off on that for a sec….

 

Inside the ring, Strangler releases Brimstone from his jaws of death, and throws his arms into the air in victory. The look of shock however, is still running rampant on Helmsley’s expression as he still stands on the outside apron. Finally he looks down at his arm, seeing the towel still clenched in his fist.

 

Strangles mood takes a nose dive to the worse, as his jaw drops and his arms fall to his side. Standing on the outside of the ring he sees Kruger with his hands prominently displayed to Strangler, making it more than obvious that he no longer has the Clan’s towel! “Whoops.” Kruger mouths out. “NOOOOOOOOOO!!” Strangler screams as a sudden burst of rage explodes from him!! Jumping up and down like a crazed loon, Strangler lets his fury show!

 

Funyon: Your winner of this throw in the towel match…….BRIMMSTOOOOONNNEE!!

 

Axis: Sweet mother of Mary! It appears that the only towel thrown in was for The Boston Strangler!! Kruger just screwed the Strangler out of a win!!

 

Riley: What?! NO! What in the hell?! The Boston Strangler had this match won! He has been more than screwed…HE HAS BEEN ROYALLY <beep>ED!! AND BY HIS OWN PARTNER JOHN KRUGER!!

 

Axis: Needless to say, Brimstone has managed to pull of a win even if it did come in the form of a screw job by Kruger!

 

Riley: This can’t be good at all for the clan! First the Strangler belts Kruger in the face with a steel chair on Metal, and now Kruger screwed Strangler out of a win! What will happen when these two forces finally collide next Metal?!?!

 

Axis: I’m not too sure, but one thing for sure is I am eagerly anticipating this match! John Kruger, The Boston Strangler, The IGNJL World Title on the line! Who will climb from the smoky clouds of the battlefield with the World Title snugly wrapped around their waist!

 

Riley: I was wonder the same thing myself, Axis. Everyone knew these two could not coexist with the World Title up for grabs, as they are showing now! Come Metal, there will be a war with only one survivor!

 

Kruger reaches the top of the ramp, then turns to face Strangler still standing in the ring. Kruger snatches the World Title from his shoulder and raises it up above his head for all the world to see! Strangler, leaning over the ropes and fuming, locks eyes with Kruger. The hate steams from them like a freshly baked pie, just pulled from the oven. The two stare into each other’s cold hearted eyes as Crimson fades to darkness.

[Guest Insanityman]

Nope... I don't have my Midget matches, thought I could write one right now.

 

 

 

 

"Axle: What a show!

 

CC: MIdget suks!

 

Axle: YEAH!

 

MIdget and Pyscho Freak are in the ring. They grappleand Midget whipes him in the ropes, Freak ducks a clothesline and when he turns around he getz a kik to thee gut and then he leaps forwards hitting the Freak with an Evenflow DDT on the chair!

 

CC: DAMN IT! HE WON!11!"

 

Even I don't know where the chair came from, but that's what all my matches were.