SWF STORM, Nov 22nd!

November 23, 2002

The First Union Center in Philadelphia sits in silence, waiting...

waiting....

BOOM!!!!!!!

A series of red pyro explosions light up the arena!

BOOM!!!!!!!

A series of orange pyro blasts rock the First Union Center!

STORM IS UNDERWAY!

The camera pans the excited crowd. Some of them hold up signs such as "I'm Here To See Mak Francis," or "I'm Here To See Mak Francis." Still others have signs like "I'm Here To See-"

Christ. He must have bought tickets for the entire senior class of his high school.

The camera searches high and low, and finally finds a few other signs, including "Flesher's Velvet Hammer," "Bermuda Triangle Wizards" and "Tagboard = Expensive." Finally, the camera zooms in and settles on the announce team's table, where "Grand Slam" Mark Stevens and Bobby Riley sit.

"Welcome, fans, to SWF Storm from the beautiful city of Philadelphia!" bellows Grand Slam, who always sounds excited to just be there. "We've got a lot of exciting action ready for you tonight, so let's go straight to-"

"HERE WE ARE... BORN TO BE KINGS... WE'RE THE PRINCES OF THE U-NI-VERSSSSSSSSSSSE....."

"Oh, Jesus," mutters Grand Slam as the big riffs of "Princes Of The Universe" by Queen kick up over the loudspeaker and the SmarkTron lights up with a clipshow of the Magnificent Seven members' biggest moves. As the fans begin to boo, Tom Flesher walks through the curtain in his warmup suit with the ICTV strap over his shoulder, followed by Frost, clad for battle in his tights and boots. Danny Williams follows, looking over his shoulder disgustedly at the theme song, wearing jeans and practically bursting out of his black Magnificent Seven polo shirt. Behind him, Annie Eclectic nearly has to sprint through the curtain in order to get her US and Hardcore titles into position. The four stablemates stand side-by-side on the stage, and several pyro explosions light up the arena as the crowd boos loudly. After the light show, they all walk to the ring, where Tom Flesher grabs a mic.

"Ladies and gentlemen of Philadelphia... please allow me to introduce myself. I'm not only your Intercontinental Television Champion, I am also the leader of the most DOMINANT stable in the world of sports entertainment today. You see, tonight, not only am I leading the magnificent athletes you see in the ring right now, not only am I in charge of the Velvet Hammer..." Flesher gestures to Frost, who snarls and grunts... "the Dangerous One..." Danny Williams cracks his neck from side to side impatiently in an homage to Tom Billington, the little-known indy worker who inspired him to take up the business... "and the Garbage Queen..." Annie looks offended and moves to speak up, but Flesher ignores her and cuts her off entirely. "No, I'm not just leading these two impressive physical specimens," shrug, "and this woman into battle. As revealed this week.. I'm also commanding the three top workers in the Junior League. SJL World Champion Judge Mental. SJL European Champion Ejiro Fasaki. Technical wizard and general nutcase Fugue. What the hell more could I POSSIBLY ask for? You just tell me what else I-"

Are you ready?

Are You Ready?!

CAUSE THE FRANCHISE IS HERE!!!!

The Smarktron flashes the words 'The Franchise,' followed by a blue and white photonegative image of Mak Francis. "Down With The Sickness" begins to blare over the speakers as Mak Francis and Ced Ordonez step through the curtain in their ring gear. Mak holds a microphone, and Ced has his arms folded across his chest. The music fades out, with Mak and Ced standing on the stage, and Flesher turns toward them. He begins to speak, but the crowd decides to drown him out....

FRANCHISE! FRANCHISE!

Mak Francis takes a moment to turn to his hometown crowd and acknowledge them by throwing his arms into the air to soak in their cheers. The fans, of course, respond by going absolutely crazy, and drown out any hope for Flesher to speak for the next few moments. In the ring, Flesher rolls his eyes, then looks over to the impatient Danny Williams tapping his foot. Finally, when the crowd decides to quiet down to a dull roar, Flesher speaks.

"Well, Mak... Ced... it's good to see you out here. Now... I know we're scheduled to go on in the very first match, with the winning team taking home the SWF TAG... TEAM... TITLES!" Flesher pauses for the cheap pop. "But you know what, we have more important things to worry about." Mak nods from the stage. "See, I know that... we've had some problems recently, Mak. I know Frost has been laying the savage beatings on Ced, I know we've all hurt each other over the past few weeks. But this is what we need to do."

Pause.

"We need... to get... Orochi."

The fans cheer. Flesher waits for the crowd to die down, then looks expectantly at Francis and Ordonez. "I've been dealing with him since before I came to the SWF. He took months of my life from me in that damn Clan... thank god it's finally dead. And for that, he acts like he's responsible for my very existence. You two... Mak, he did nothing but try to steal opportunities from you, and when that didn't work, he tried to use you, my pet project-"

"Woah, woah, woah, woah, WOAH." Francis cuts Flesher off to a pop from the crowd. "Listen, Flesher, there's something you need to realize. I don't care HOW much we worked out together, how much we teamed or how many stupid promos we cut together. I don't care how similar our styles are or what you think I stole from you. The fact of the matter is this, Flesher. You sit there and bitch about Orochi taking credit for everything you did, for him saying he GAVE you the SJL World Title in that submission match. You piss and moan that he wants to be stroked up for something that YOU put everything into... and then you turn around and call me YOUR 'pet project?' You say that YOU'RE in charge of Fugue, Mental and Ejiro? Damn it, Flesher, you haven't even been backstage at a JL show since May!"

The fans cheer for Mak's angry rant and show their appreciation with another "FRANCHISE!" chant. In the ring, Flesher nods, doing his best to look humble without actually admitting doing anything wrong.

"Mak, I'm not asking you to pretend I'm responsible for your success. I'm not even asking you to like me. What I'm asking is-"

Frost, looking shocked, grabs Flesher by his warmup jacket and turns him around, jarring him with such force that he drops the microphone. The camera zooms in, but can't pick up the sound. Frost, looking very, very angry, shakes Flesher and makes motions indicative of "What the hell are you doing?" Flesher, ever the politician, holds his hands up in an "Easy Does It" gesture, the pats Frost on the shoulder. Frost angrily shrugs Flesher's hand off and makes an "I'm Warning You" motion, but Flesher repeats his "Simmer Down" signal. Danny Williams, meanwhile, is content to just look annoyed and bored. Muttering under his breath, Frost unhappily steps back as Flesher continues.

"Mak, what I want is for you and Ced to put aside your differences with me and the Magnificent Seven." Frost bites his lip, barely able to contain his rage. "We need all the beef we can get, Francis. My Scandinavian Skullcrusher over here..." he pats Frost on the shoulder "is unbelievable, and Danno can break your neck six ways before you hit the ground, but Mak, you know Orochi. Ced, you know Orochi. I can't take him out alone. Mak, you can't take him out alone. Ced, you can't take him out alone. But together... we can send that son of a bitch back to Aechiba."

The fans burst into cheers as Mak grins and nods. When the cheers die down, Ced takes the microphone. "Tom, Orochi did me wrong. But you know what? You did me wrong, too. As far back as we've worked, you've been doing your best to fuck me over. Do you remember the first singles match we had, Tom? When you and Brody banged my head so badly that I got a concussion? You remember me puking all over the floor? You expect me to just turn around and..."

Flesher, a bit put off, clears his throat. "Fine, Ced. Fine. I don't have to like it... but fine. Just know that you're letting everyone down." He cracks his neck and turns his back on the two tag opponents, who head back to the locker room to prepare for their match.

"Now," says Tom, "Annie Eclectic has something to say to everyone here. You see, as some of you may know, Annie and I had a little... lunch date this week. And we had a long, heartfelt talk. Annie agreed to apologize for what she's done to the good name of this venerable stable." The fans begin to boo loudly as Flesher struts toward Annie. "So Annie... now's your chance."

Flesher holds the microphone up to the dual US/Hardcore Champion's face, but just as she begins to speak, he swipes it back. "On second thought, Annie, there's something I'd like to say first. I'd like to let these fans in on the conversation we had on Monday." He turns away from her and toward the audience. "You see, my friends, I was letting Annie know that... she's not holding up her end of the bargain. See, Annie was hired for..."

The fans cut Flesher off with a chant of...

ANNIE WON'T!

and, as always, the fans on the other side join in with...

SUCK YOUR COCK! Annie grins just a little, trying unsuccessfully to hide her amusement as the fans continue.....

ANNIE WON'T! SUCK YOUR COCK!

Flesher's face gets progressively redder with each chant, until finally he shouts, "SHUT UP! Just shut up and let me finish giving this woman a chance to apologize for losing the Light Heavyweight Title to a f***ing CARNIE! Let me finish telling her that she's got no reason to be proud of those two meaningless pieces of tin she calls titles! G***ammit, just shut up!"

ANNIE WON'T! SUCK YOUR COCK!

Annie smirks as Flesher glares out at the crowd, then angrily says, "You know what? You won't listen to me? Well, our good friend Daniel over there spent some time off working on his communications skills, I think we should let HIM say it."

Flesher hands the microphone to Williams, who cracks his neck again, then walks up to Annie so close that their foreheads practically touch. He stares her down for a moment..... then....

CRACK!!!!!!!!

"DANNY WILLIAMS JUST HAMMERED ANNIE ECLECTIC WITH THAT ELBOW!" shouts Mark Stevens. Before he can continue....

CRACK!!!!!!!!

Annie crumbles to the mat holding her jaw. As Flesher and Frost stand in the background, smirking, once again united by a common cause, Danny drops the microphone behind him and starts unloading vicious kicks on Annie's chest. "He could break her ribs like that!" says Stevens, to which Riley responds, "I know. I love roidheads... they make the world so much more interesting."

SWF road agents flood the ring, clustering onto Danny and trying to pull him off of Annie before he does lasting damage to her. One doesn't do the job... neither do two or three. Finally, five SWF agents manage to pull Williams away from Annie and keep him from causing any further harm. They usher Williams, Frost and Flesher back to the locker room as a few more tend to Annie Eclectic.

"Wow!" says Grand Slam, shocked. "Well... I'm not exactly sure what to say after that."

"I do," sneers Riley. "Let's take a look at the card!"

November 23, 2002

Show: IGNWF Storm

Date: Nov. 22, 2002

Arena: The First Union Centre in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania!

Due date: Nov. 22, 2002 at 12PM (noon) board time.

TAG TEAM TITLE MATCH

Ced Ordonez & Mak Francis vs. Tom Flesher & Frost

- Since Thoth turned on Ced Ordonez and changed his name, the tag champs were stripped of the titles (for record keeping purposes, let’s say that happened at the end of last week’s Storm). So now Ced and Mak Francis of the whatever Wizards will face off against the Magnificent uhm…whatever number they’re down to, for the vacant titles!

SINGLES MATCH

Xero vs. Alex Zenon

- Hey look…that wacky Z guy is back! Can he start off on the right foot with a win against Xero?

SINGLES MATCH

Orochi vs. CIA

- The Clan is gone and so is the loveable old Thoth of old. Can Orochi harness the power of evil to beat CIA?

HARDCORE TITLE TRIPLE THREAT MATCH

Annie Eclectic © vs. Ash Ketchum vs. Sigil

- Last week Annie managed to finally get her hands on the hardcore title…much to Ash Ketchum’s chagrin. The newcomer Sigil also seems to have some sort of issue with Ketchum, so this Friday these 3 will face each other in a no-holds barred battle for the hardcore belt.

NON-TITLE SINGLES MATCH

El Luchadore Magnifico vs. Tod deKindes

- Tod deKindes has been down on his luck lately as he’s lost both his titles and his respect. Can deKindes make up for his recent losses by scoring a big win over the current heavyweight champion?

November 23, 2002

The scene flickers back on SWF Storm with the camera aimed directly at the commentators’ table. People fight for positioning over the shoulders of Mark Stevens and Bobby Riley to get their homemade signs and homely faces on the air.

“The Philly fanatics are out in droves…”Stevens starts.

“Along with the Philly freaks.” Riley bitterly interrupts.

“At the top of the program we saw the Magnificent Seven make a tentative alliance with Ced Ordonez and Mak Francis to battle their mutual enemy, the former Thoth and current Orochi.” Mark explains for the latecomers.

“More brilliant strategy by Mag 7 leader Tom Flesher, let the Cross-Eyed Wizards take all the punishment and then swoop in take out a weakened Orochi.”

“But first,” Stevens shoots a finger in the air for emphasis “the two new collaborators must settle the little matter of the SWF tag straps. After Orochi’s turn on his former partner Ced last week, Commissioner McWeed decided to strip them of the belts and have a match to kick things off tonight to crown new champions.”

“Making it déjà vu all over again.” Bobby quips in stealing from Yogi Bearra. “The Mag 7 boys of Frost and Flesher mopped, shined and rebuffed the floor to a high gloss last week against Francis and Ordonez. I also believe that during that contest I mentioned how Frost and the Superior One would make ideal tag champs.”

“Possibly very prophetic words, but I’m sure Tom Flesher’s strategic planning in aligning himself with Ced and Mak will lead to a fairly different contest tonight.”

Mark smiles brightly at the camera and Riley goofily mugs as the scene swings around to show Funyon preparing for introductions in the ring.

“Our first contest this evening will be for the vacant SWF Tag Team Titles. Introducing first…” Funyon throws a hand out to the entrance stage as the lights fade to black.

The video game techno of “Esaka?” starts up, but with some new verbiage edited over it.

“Are Your Ready?”

“Are You Ready?!”

“CAUSE THE FRANCHISE IS HERE!!!!”

The fans explode with deafening cheers and Funyon has to obediently wait for it to die down before continuing with his spiel. The lights fire back up to reveal Mak Francis walking down the ramp with both arms raised triumphantly in the air while Ced Ordonez whips his trademark purple towel to a lucky fan in the crowd.

“At a combined weight of 428 pounds, they are CED ORDONEZ and THE FRANCHISE…MAK…FRAN…CIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIISSSS!” Funyon draws out as he plays off the rabid crowd.

Stevens: “I do believe the fans are even louder now for their hometown hero, Mak Francis, than they were when he came out at the top of the program.”

Riley: “They boo Kobe Bryant and are about ready to run Allen Iverson out of town on a rail, but they cheer this guy?”

Stevens: “Not that the vicious and surprising beating Mak and Ced took at Orochi’s hands last week would have garnered a good deal of crowd sympathy, but Francis has always been much loved by his hometown crowd.”

Riley: “Another example of why all sportswriters say Philadelphia has the worst fans.”

The two men slide into the ring and begin their warm-ups as the music strikes up a different tone with Queen’s “Princes of the Universe” and the audience drastically switches gears to match.

“And their challengers,” Funyon booms “representing the Magnificent 7 and weighing a collective 509 pounds, FROST and THE SUPERIOR ONE…TOM… FLEEEEEEEEEEEEEEESHERRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!”

The two men confidently stroll out to the top of the entrance ramp and ignore the jeering crowd. Green and white fireworks rifle down the sides of the ramp for that extra bit of fanfare. Flesher shoots a broad smile and a friendly wave to the men in the ring while Frost silently gnashes away on his cigar. Flesher bounds down the ramp, with Frost trailing behind.

Stevens: “Ced and Mak are showing more team unity than they did last week by coming out together and to the same music, while Frost and Tom are showing less. I don’t think Frost is too happy with the Mag 7’s newest associates.”

Riley: “Frost doesn’t like anyone. Last Mother’s Day his gift to his mom was NOT coming to visit.”

Referee Eddy Long shows off the tag belts to both teams and the audience before handing them to Funyon, who carries them out to the timekeeper’s table. Frost haphazardly spits his cigar out at Funyon’s feet while the faces finish their pre-match stretching and Tom walks toward them.

Stevens: “Flesher is ingratiating himself by shaking hands with both of his opponents. Something we’ve never seen out of him before to be sure.”

Riley: “It’s all part of his master plan. Tom Flesher makes Napoleon look like George W. Bush trying to outsmart a Wack-a-Mole game.”

Stevens: “Frost steps to the apron without exchanging any pleasantries of his own and it looks like Tom Flesher will start by default. And just like last week, it will be against his former pupil, Mak Francis.”

DING DING DING

The two men take a few steps back from the center of the ring and then charge forward like two feuding rams to locks horns. They jockey for position in the collar and elbow tie up with Francis smoothly transitioning into a side headlock and flipping Flesher down to the canvas.

Stevens: “Some nice light applause for the headlock takedown, but Flesher is not held down by it long and fights up.”

Tom makes his feet and pushes Mak off into the ropes. Francis ducks under a clothesline and rushes for the opposite cords. Flesher turns and fires off a dropkick, but hits nothing but thin air as the Franchise hooks his arm around the top ring rope to hold himself fast. Flesher quickly regains his feet and points at his head and then at Mak with a knowing smile.

Riley: (warbling off key) “Keep on playing those mind games forever.”

Flesher waves Francis to advance and the two lockup again. They push back and forth for a few seconds until Tom focuses on the right arm and tries to control with an overhead hammerlock. Mak fights against Flesher, but cannot overcome his leverage on strength alone. The scrappy fighter spins to the right to escape Flesher’s grasp, but he deftly lets his hands slide down the arm and retains control with a wristlock.

Stevens: “Brilliant technical exhibition to start with neither man gaining a clear advantage.”

Francis walks a few steps and then does a picture perfect no hands cartwheel with a slight twist to reverse fortunes and snag his own wristlock. Flesher paces a few steps and grimaces as Francis cranks on the move. Tom does a few rolling flips of his own and regains the hold. Mak swiftly goes back into the flipping reversal, but Flesher steps into his foe right before he completes the counter and knocks him down with a short and stiff shoulderblock.

Riley: “Wake me when this pussy stuff is over…ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ…”

Stevens: “Bobby Riley, not a big fan of ‘pussy.’”

Flesher runs to the far ropes for a little added boost and flies off looking for a knee drop. However, Francis scoots across the mat on his stomach and trips the Mag 7 leader up with a drop toehold. Mak makes his feet to a light pop and spins over Flesher twice with the toehold before Tom boots him off with a heavy Doc Marten to the chest by his free leg. Mak stumbles off balanced into the lower right ring corner and his floored by a muscular forearm!

Stevens: “Frost lets old habits diehard as he can’t resist the cheap shot from the apron.”

Flesher gives Frost a look of mock disgust and then turns to Ced on the apron and gives him a wave of ‘everything’s cool, don’t worry.’ He tags Frost and gives him a wry smile as he steps to the apron.

Riley: “Alright, we can kiss all that ‘wrestling’ junk goodbye.”

Stevens: “Frost stomps Francis down in the back of the head and things are only going to get rougher for the much lighter man from here on out.”

The booing threatens to tear the roof off the building and a stray piece of crumpled paper whizzes an inch in front of Frost’s nose. The Icelander yells some unheard curses at the crowd and pumps a defiant fist in the air. Mak makes his feet while holding his wringing head and attempts to use the distraction to dash to his corner. Frost collars him from behind and locks in a Cobra Clutch while grapevining the near leg. WHOOSH!

Stevens: “Frost plants his opponent in the mat with an Icelandic leg sweep and rolls him over for a lateral press.”

ONE

TWO

Kick out and Frost quickly stands up while pulling Mak with him by his hair.

Riley: “Frost is a former tag champ and he knows exactly what needs to be done to get those belts back around his waist and that of his boss.”

Frost leans down with his other arm to take Francis between the legs and lifts him straight up over his head while adjusting his other hand against the man’s chest.

Stevens: “You can’t forget that Ced was part of the team that dethroned Chilly Chilly Bang Bang and was putting a nice reign together himself until last week.”

Riley: “Yeah, but he’s not in the ring right now is he?”

Frost turns slowly around in a circle to show each person in the arena their hometown boy lying prone high overhead. Frost does a few reps with the lightweight grappler like this was a breezy gym workout.

Riley: “Two and a quarter is barely a challenge for this guy, you better through Ced and a nacho cart up there for good measure.”

Stevens: “Frost is gorilla pressing Francis in an attempt to take the fans out of this contest. He just doesn’t want the win, he wants to humiliate the Franchise in his own backyard.”

Riley: (singing again) “Miiiiiiiiiiind gaaaaaaaaaaaaames for…ev…er…”

Frost ends his tour of the auditorium by facing Ordonez on the apron. Frost flips Francis off with a shake and he plunges to the mat face first. Frost takes a few steps forward and sticks out his finger at Ced, but Eddy Long gets in between the pair to keep the peace.

Stevens: “Frost is picking Francis up and…IS SHOVING HIM INTO HIS OWN CORNER!”

Mak takes the turnbuckles back first and slumps down. Frost makes a slight gesture with his hand and barks out the order for Ced to be tagged in.

Riley: “Frost owns Ced. He’s practically a porter on the job train.”

Stevens: “Ced makes the tag, a little unsure but game. I don’t know what the logic is in letting the fresh man enter.”

Ced vaults over the top rope and slaps both of his well-muscled arms and starts to circle the big man. Mak takes the apron and hangs his sore head down, thankful for the breather.

Riley: “Frost is just bored and wants to illustrate that he and Tom dictate this match to the letter.”

Frost pivots in place with his hands up to follow Ced’s movements. Ordonez rockets in for a single leg takedown, but that tree trunk is firmly planted and Frost bats him down with a clubbing forearm to the back. Ced goes to one knee, but is jerked right up by the wrist and sent into the ropes. He comes off a bit disoriented and runs smack into a big boot to a thunderous thud.

Riley: “Ced wanted that leg, he got that leg.”

Stevens: “Frost with the measured elbow drop to the chest and covers.”

ONE

TWO

Stevens: “Kick out. Ced is still the FRESH man.”

Riley: “Whatever, tell it to the Verve Pipe.”

Frost rocks up to his knees with a scowl on his face. Flesher extends his arm out from the apron and asks for the tag. Frost brings Ced to his feet with an armbar and walks him over to his corner where he makes the tag. Tom steps in through the second rope and the partners make a smooth switch off on the hold.

Stevens: “The Superior One takes the former Cross Wizard out a few steps and grounds him with an armdrag. Tom rises to his knees and continues working the armbar.”

Flesher cranks on the arm, but Ced gets his feet underneath him and kips up to wrench his arm free. Tom is momentarily stunned while still on his knees and Ced capitalizes with a roundhouse kick to the jaw! His eyes roll back in his head and he does a half turn to crash on his back with his legs trapped underneath him. Ced makes a standing leap in the air and stomps on Tom’s gut with both barrels! The fans groan and Flesher wails in pain.

Riley: “CHRIST! He could have broke Tom’s legs with them pinned underneath him like that. Stubby always told me that the Philippines had choice opium, and it looks like Ced smoked most of it to do something like that.”

Ced falls on top of Flesher into a lateral press.

ONE

TWO

THR-

Stevens: “NO! The Superior One has a little more in the strength department than Ced and shoves him off.”

Riley: “Of course, he’s superior.”

Flesher finally unfolds himself and lies stretched out on the canvas trying to recoup. Ced scrambles on top of him and hooks the leg.

ONE

TWO

THRE-

Stevens: “A second kick out, but Tom needs that tag for a breather.”

Flesher sits up with sweat glistening on his body and his chest heaving for air. His hands claw out looking for Frost, but Ordonez holds him in place by grabbing a chinlock and buries his knee in the ICTV champion’s back.

Stevens: "Ced Ordonez grabs Tom Flesher in a reverse chinlock, and it looks like business is about to pick up!"

Riley: "Yeah, a REVERSE CHINLOCK. That'll keep the marks bying tickets."

Ced grinds his knee into the small of Flesher's back as Tom tries desperately to break the hold. He reaches up and tries to peel the chinlock off, but fails due to fatigue. Despite his strength advantage, Flesher is also unable to stand up and counter out of the hold, so he simply slumps down to the mat to try to come up with plan B on the fly. After a moment, he grips Ced's arm and rolls to the side, flipping to his stomach and rolling Ced to the mat with a modified judo arm throw. Ced hits his back and the referee counts

ONE!

TWO!

KICKOUT! Ced reolls away as Flesher starts to get to his feet, but stops on one knee for a spontaneous breather. Seeing this, Ced grins broadly, then immediately sets ot for the ropes. On the rebound, he picks p speed, charges at Flesher and plants one foot on Flesher's bent knee. He pushes off, then pastes Flesher in the back of the head with a hard knee strike!

Stevens: "SHINING WIZARD!!! SHINING WIZARD!!!!!"

Riley: "THAT'S a Shining Wizard?"

Stevens: "It sure is. Haven't you been watching those films Ced loaned us?"

Riley: "You know, I've been MEANING to, but between the Best of Liberace and the Flesher vs. Broomstick compilation I ordered from Lynch...."

Stevens: "I don't even WANT to know..."

Riley: "It's actually very good. You shold SEE the way this guy bumps for Flesher."

Stevens: "I HOPE that was the punchli-"

Riley: "Goofy haircut, though."

In the back, sound man KJ Sanchez hits a rimshot.

Flesher flops to the mat after the Shining Wizard, and Ced covers him for

ONE!

TWO!

THR- NO!!! Flesher kicks out! He gets a decidedly mixed reaction from the fans as he rolls to his stomach and reaches out pathetically for help from Frost. Ced grabs Tom by the singlet straps and yanks him to his feet, then slams his knee into Flesher's gut. The ICTV Champion doubles over in pain, and immediately Ced slaps on a front chancery. The crowd brsts into cheers as Ced shouts, "ICE PICK!!!!"

Stevens: "Ced Ordonez is going to hit Flesher with the Ice Pick, the move that Frost has used so many times to take him out!"

Riley: "Oh, come on. There's no way a little stick man like Ordonez can hit the Ice Pick like the Velvet Hammer."

Stevens: "I don't know, Bobby. He's taken it a LOT of times."

Riley: "And you've taken a lot of verbal abuse from yours truly, bt that doesn't make you any better at dishing it out."

Stevens: "You're only saying that becase most of what I say goes over your head becase it has more than two syllables."

Riley: "Syl-"

Stevens: "Sound thingies."

Riley: "Ohhhh, THOSE."

Ced lifts Flesher up into the air, then drives him head-first into the mat at an absolutely sickening 45-degree angle! He bounces off and lands on his back as the fans gasp, and then Ced rolls onto him for

ONE!

TWO!

THRE- FROST!!!! Frost runs in and yanks Ced off of Flesher, breaking the pin and prompting Eddy Long to wag his finger angrily at the Scandinavian Skullcrusher.

Stevens: "And Frost is MAD that Ced Ordonez used the Ice Pick!"

Riley: "Well la-de-da, here's the pot calling the kettle black!"

Stevens: "What are you TALKING about?"

Riley: "Don't you remember the fit you threw when Edwin used the Walk-Off at Dissention? Yo screamed so loud that he lost his concentration and dropped Raynor carelessly on his- OW! Damm-"

Stevens: "Sorry, folks, it sounds like Bobby Riley's headset mysteriously stopped functioning. *mutters* Dumbass..."

Frost lays into Ced with a series of stiff right-handed jabs to the body, and when he considers Ced sufficiently softened, he adheres to Eddy Long's admonitions to return to his corner. He does, however, drag Tom Flesher with him, then grabs the tag rope and slaps Flesher on the shoulder. Long signals for a fair tag, and Frost steps legally into the ring. He grabs the submission artist from San Jose and hammers him with forearm smashes, each landing with a sick thud across Ordonez's back. After three forearm smashes, Ced collapses to the mat. Frost grabs both of Ced's arms and underhooks them, then yanks him forcefully to his feet. In his corner, Tom Flesher starts to regain his senses as Mak Francis watches the in-ring action carefully. With a loud grunt, the Icelandic brute hoists his opponent into the air and then sends him crashing to the mat with the Early Winter powerbomb! The fans boo loudly as Mak Francis vaults over the top rope while Eddy Long counts the pin.

ONE!

Will Mak make it?

TWO!

NO!!!! Mak Francis nails Frost in the back of the head with a dropkick and breaks up the pin! Frost slumps forward and then shakes his head violently, trying to regain his senses as quickly as possible. Mak grabs him by the head and attempts to pull Frost to his feet. The giant resists, but is sufficiently distracted for Ced Ordonez to roll away. Ced rolls out of the ring to shake off his head trauma as Mak finally manages to pull Frost into a standing position. The Franchise locks on a front facelock and reaches down, hooking the Velvet Hammer's leg into position for his Franchise Tag! The fans pop early, looking forward to seeing Mak hammer Frost's head into the mat and win the SWF Tag Team Titles.

Stevens: "Look out! Mak Francis is about to crush Frost's skull!"

Riley: "Oh, come on. You don't really think he can lift that big slab of penguin meat, do you?"

Mak strains, trying hard to get Frost into the air for the fisherman buster. He strains, usinq every ounce of strength in his body to get the Viking warrior even a few inches off the mat. The Iceman from Iceland resists, giving Tom Flesher just enough time to charge in and blindside the Franchise with a Yakuza kick! Mak crumbles to the mat as Frost staggers to the corner. Tom picks Mak up, locks in a front chancery... and then reaches under to hook the leg.

Riley: "HA! He's going to nail Makaroni with his own Franchise Tag! How do you like THAT?!" *maniacally fruity laugh*

Stevens: "That Ice Pick from Ced made Flesher so angry that now he wants to use Mak's own move against him! Alliance or not, this one's getting hot!"

With Mak still stunned from Flesher's deadly Yakuza kick, it's easy for Tom to lift the Franchise into the air and hold him upside down in cradle position. He holds Mak for a moment, stalling...

stalling...

stalling....

BAM!

Flesher jumps into the air and slams Mak headfirst into the mat with the Franchise Tag! Francis lands on his back, spread-eagled. Flesher takes a moment to pause on his knees and dust off his hands before laying on Mak's body. Eddy Long begins his count.

Stevens: "Fans, this is just a formality at this point."

ONE!

Riley: "So, do we get to split Mak's stereo equipment?"

TWO!

THREE - NO!!!!!!! CED ORDONEZ REACHES UP FROM OUTSIDE THE RING AND PULLS FLESHER OUT BY THE ANKLE!!!! Tom gets yanked to the outside, turns and sees Ced... then unloads on him with a stiff palm to the jaw! Ced strikes back with a pair of kicks to the knee! As Flesher tends to his knee....

Stevens: "GAMENGIRI ON THE FLOOR! GAMENGIRI ON THE FLOOR!"

Riley: "That is PLAINLY illegal! Disqualify them right now!"

Stevens: "Do you have ANY dignity?"

In the ring, the still groggy Frost sees Mak laying there and steps forward, then drops onto him with a half-stumble, half-splash. Eddy Long counts the pin for

ONE!

TWO!

KICKOUT!!!!!!!!!

Stevens: "Mak is capitalizing on the extra few seconds that Ced Ordonez bought him by pulling Flesher to the outside. He got to rest, and so he can kick out a little more easily."

Riley: "Gee, thanks, Einstein. What's next? 'Fire is hot?'"

On the outside, Ced rolls Flesher into the ring and follows him. Mak rolls over to his stomach, slowly regaining his senses, and Ced covers Flesher.

ONE!

TWO!

FROST bursts in and breaks the pin! Flesher grabs the ropes and tries to pull away as Frost whips Ced into the corner. Mak sees Flesher and heads over, taking advantage of Flesher's still-stunned state of mine by grabbing both of his ankles and yanking him to the center of the ring. Frost, meanwhile, charges into the corner and nails Ced with an avalanche! Mak crosses Tom's ankles and quickly twists him over, though, locking on the Superior Stretch!

Stevens: "This is his revenge! This is Mak Francis's revenge for the Franchise Tag earlier in the match! It's his way of telling Flesher to respect him! Mak Francis is going to make Tom Flesher tap!!!!!!"

Mak sits back further and further, stretching Flesher's back. He forces the legs together, applying all kinds of pressure. Flesher grimaces, reaching out for the ropes.

Stevens: "He's right in the center of the ring! Mak Francis has Tom Flesher locked in the Superior Stretch in the center of the ring! Flesher's got no choice but to tap!"

Riley: "Come on, Tom! Just reach out another foot or two! Come on! Just 18 more inches!"

Flesher slumps to the mat, defeated.... just in time for Frost to charge in and nail Mak in the back of the head with a Hell Freezes Over lariat!!!!!! Mak falls forward, releasing Tom's legs and allowing Tom to crawl over to the corner. Frost whips Mak to the ropes, and when he catches the Franchise on the rebound, sends him flying over the top rope with a back body drop! Mak crashes to the concrete outside, landing in a heap. Ced starts to get back to his feet, but Flesher charges at him and nails him in the side of the head with a Yakuza kick! With that, Frost drags him to the center. As Frost locks up his double underhooks, Tom Flesher scurries up to the top rope.

Stevens: "Could it be?"

Riley: "Oh, indeed it could!"

Frost yanks Ced into the air, twists ever so slightly to point his head to the corner that Flesher's in, and slams him to the mat with the Early Winter tiger driver! Flesher raises his arms into the air, stalls for a moment, and then leaps off the top rope. He floats through the air, falling in perfect swan position and finally slamming head-first into Ced's forehead! Ced convulses once, then flattens out. Tom grabs his head and rolls away, shaking violently and holding his head. Frost simply sneers as he holds Ced while Eddy Long counts

ONE!

TWO!

THREE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

DING DING DING!!!!!!!

Funyon announces, "Ladies and gentlemen, your winners, and NEW SWF Tag Team Champions... The Magnificent Seven, consisting of FROST and 'THE SUPERIOR ONE,' TOM FLESHER!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

The fans give a decidedly mixed reaction, some loving the heels' victory, some fans greatly disappointed. Eddy Long hands Frost and the staggering, drunk-looking Flesher their title belts. Frost wraps the belt around Flesher's waist, then slings his own over his shoulder. But before they leave....

Mak re-enters the ring and helps Ced to his feet. The camera zooms in and sees Mak mouthing some words at Tom... and after a moment, Mak and Tom shake hands firmly. Tom then turns to Ced, offers his hand... and Ced accepts! The fans burst into cheers as the workers show mutual respect for each other.

Stevens: "No such forced pleasantries as raising each other's arms or leaving as a group, only a show of respect all around! Fans, what more can you ask for?"

Riley: "An Asian teenager?"

Stevens: "Male or female?"

KJ Sanchez lets loose with another rimshot.

Stevens: "Ladies and gentlemen, what a match! The Magnificent Seven brings home the Tag Titles, mutual respect from both teams, and more exciting action when we return!"

November 23, 2002

“And we’re back,” exclaims Mark Stevens, “live from the city of brotherly love! What an opening matchup that was, and we’ve got plenty of great action left on the show.”

“You said it Mark,” replies Bobby Riley, “we’ve got a huge show lined up for tonight.”

“Well, if we look at our next match up, we have Xero taking on the returning Alex Zenon, previously Z. This could be a huge match for Zenon, as he looks to make a huge impact on his return.”

“I’m sorry to say it…wait, no I’m not…Z was a loser before, and he’s a loser now!”

“Whatever Bobby…he’d kick your ass…”

“What is your fixation with my ass?”

“Shut up…anyway…let’s get things moving and get the next match underway…”

The fans gear up as Funyon prepares to make his announcements, but before the infamous announcer can make any statements, the arena goes completely dark.

“Damn, not again,” sighs Bobby Riley.

The SmarkTron comes to life with fire as all in attendance turn their attention in that direction. As the familiar heartbeat pounds the speakers, a sinister voice speaks as per usual.

“You have been warned.”

“The federation will be changed forever.”

“December 1.”

“For HE returns.”

The letters “WYS” flash on the screen before the feed is cut and all is returned to normal. There is silence all about the arena, which is quickly broken as the fans begin to discuss amongst themselves who this mystery individual is. “This is ridiculous,” states Riley, “who in God’s name is doing this?”

“Like I have an idea,” replies Stevens, “although we do know that our world champion El Luchadore Magnifico wants to face this man at the PPV next week.”

“Not going to happen. Stubby already said no, and like he pointed out, we have no idea who this could be. It could be the Exploding Chicken for all we know.”

“Or Bobby Riley, if we’re bringing up former JL announcers…oh wait…Riley sucks ass…nevermind.”

“Blow me Mark.”

“Hmmm…you’d like that wouldn’t you? Anyway…Magnifico wants to face this man…but will Stubby allow this? It seems out commissioner has his own ideas about who should get a crack at the World Champion. Who knows if he’s right…but if I were ELM, I’d want to face an opponent I can actually prepare for.”

“Whatever, it’s probably someone like Grahf, looking to make a big time return, only to suck…”

“Didn’t your mother tell you that if you can’t say anything nice, don’t say anything at all? What a jackass. Anyway, we’re gonna continue to try and break this case of who this mystery person is, and find out whether Stubby will approve a match for Magnifico. And we’ll have Xero versus Zenon when we come back!”

November 23, 2002

…and we’re back! The camera whirls and twirls it’s was from the upper mezzanine, past the two fat drunkards in row 188, jumping around, trying to get on camera… ew, lokkit’ that flab… across the second tier cheapseats, over the young lady, with tremendous… erm… wow, and she’s eating a hot dog, too. But past her, and around the “Philadelphia Cheese Warlocks,” proudly professing their love for DDR *and* Mak Francis by doing a collective four-step in the front row! The camera continues, spinning, twisting, curving… before finally settling on the announcer’s table, manned, as always, by Bobby Riley and “Grand Slam” Mark Stevens!

“Urk.” Starts Riley, his face a noticeable green. “Mark, remind me again: WHY did we hire our tech crew right out of film school?”

“Because, Bobby,” Says Mark, cleaning his glasses. “They’re up on the newest film tricks and techniques, they’re young and eager…” Mark pauses. “And they’re starving college students who work for peanuts.”

“Well, that’s all well and good, but they didn’t stay focused on the girl NEAR long enough!”

“Here I thought you’d be more interested in the fat drunks, Riley…” As Riley “bah’s” and dismisses Mark, “Grand Slam” looks up at the camera, clearing his throat. “Well, regardless… coming up next is the rather surprising—but that’s not to say I’m not happy about it, though—return of Alex “Z” Zenon!”

“Mark… you’re such a MARK for anyone who ever had anything to do with the Midnight Carnival.” Spits Bobby. “I mean, were you even listening to Zenon in that interview he gave? He sounds like he’s got a perpetual spider on him!” Riley pauses, before looking up, thoughtfully… “Although… ANY kind of personality change is an improvement. Even if it’s a token gesture, I’m sure.”

Stevens rolls his eyes. “Regardless, Xero will be the first challenge for Z, as he seems to be getting a tour of returnees lately… Danny Williams, Sigil, Z…”

“Sig—what? I don’t remember that match!”

Pause. There is an uncomfortable silence at the announcer’s table. Mark opens his mouth to respond… before being thankfully cut off by a low drum beat! The beat creeps through the arena, slowly getting louder ever second. Red and white strobe lights drop from the roof of the arena and pass over the fans, dancing in eerie duet with the music… suddenly, the guitars kick up, bringing forth an explosion of flame from the stage!

Xero tosses the curtain aside, walking onto the stage, as the flames continue to burn on either side of him. Showing only a smirk to the reaction of boos from the crowd, he drops to his knees in the classic double-bicep pose, before standing and stepping down the aisle. Funyon starts his announcement…

“Ladies and gentlemen!” Booms the refreshingly tasty ring announcer. “The following contest is a singles match, scheduled for one fall! Introducing first, hailing from Port Colborne, Ontario, Canada… he weighs in tonight at 210lbs… XERRROOOOOO!!”

Smug, Xero rolls into the ring, shoving Funyon aside as he makes his way to the turnbuckle, standing on the second rope and raising both arms up high. Discarding his matching vest, he drops down to the mat, getting ready with some stretches…

“And his opponent…”

The lights darken, as the sound of electrical distortion hums through the air… two white lights shine down on the entrance, appearing with the drums, and flashing like a rhythmic heartbeat. Suddenly…

BOOM! The guitars drop, and the arena is filled with every colour in the rainbow, as spotlights search the crowd! The camera closes in on the entrance, illuminated by an ever-changing pallet… waiting… waiting… for the curtain to be thrown back, as Alex Zenon steps out, into the midst of the crowd.

“RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

Simply put, they explode.

“Wow!” Yells Mark, with genuine markish enthusiasm! “Listen to the CROWD, Riley! They’re *jacked* to have Z back after a 2 month hiatus!”

“Huzzah.” Bobby deadpans, making a show of sticking his fingers in his ears and looking annoyed.

Alex Zenon looks out into the roaring crowd with something between a smirk and full-blown smile. He missed this, he thinks. Nodding his head in a small show of thanks, Alex brushes his hair back, and starts down the aisle, as camera cuts to an upper-mezzanine shot of the rampway, as Funyon introduces…

“Hailing from…” Funyon pauses, checking the note on his cue-cards. “The Meadowlands’, and weighing in tonight at 229lbs… he is making his *return* to the SWF… -pop- ALEX… ZENOOOONNN!!”

The lights flicker erratically over the crowd, swooping and cutting in all directions. The camera is suddenly wiped out by the blinding flash of a passing light… and refocuses with a cut to the ring, as Alex climbs up it and stands on a turnbuckle, absorbing the crowd… finally, he discards his jacket to an attendant, and focuses his attention on the less-than-enamored Xero, who readies himself, as Alex hops softly down to the ring…

“Well then…” Mark begins, eager. “This crowd is ready, Xero is ready, Z is sure as hell ready, I know I’m ready and the ref looks ready…”

**DING!DING!DING!**

“…let’s get it on!”

Referee Kris Krygier backs away, having signaled for the bell. He quickly does a rule explanation as Xero and Alex step out of the their corners, and then waves them clear to fight! Alex and Xero pace in a tight circle, trying to measure one-another up. Settling in, both men lean in at one another, stretching out for a collar and elbow… when Xero suddenly drops, faking out Alex, and snatching onto his ankle for a single-leg takedown!

“You see that?” Asks Bobby. “Xero’s gets the first move in this match, because frankly, I don’t think he’s impressed in the *slightest* with Alex’s return. Big pop? New music? New duds? Pwah! Xero’s all ‘I don’t care, bitch, I’ll embarrass you in the ring!’”

“I wouldn’t be too sure about that, Bobby!” Snaps Mark. “Z’s beaten Xero once before in the past, and if he’s improved as much as I’ve heard…”

“Alex “Z” Zenon? Improve?” Riley pauses. “BAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!”

Xero immediately jerks on the foot, trying to work the ligaments, and also trying to lean in and step-over… which Alex quickly remedies, rolling through onto one knee! The man formerly known as Z quickly tries to stand, but ‘King of the DDT’ stops him, slipping the toe of his foot behind Alex’s knee, tripping him right back down! Xero continues, this time stepping over and rolling Zenon onto his stomach, trying to torque his knee in a single-leg crab! Alex is having none of THAT this early, and keeps using the momentum to roll through once more, onto his back! Before Xero can do anything to fix his situation, Alex nails him in the calf, causing Xero to shout out, dropping Zenon’s leg! In a fluid movement, Alex gets himself in better position, grabs Xero by the thigh, and rolls him up in an inside cradle!

One!

T—No! Barely two!

“An pretty mat sequence leads to the first pinfall try of the match-up!” Calls Mark. “Not possible to improve, eh Riley?”

“Yeah, yeah…” Dismisses Bobby. “That’s just a Token Wrestling Sequence™ before we get to the poorly transitioned, likely to be blown high-spots, and the usual flubbery from Zenon.”

Getting to his feet after the pin quickly, Xero and Alex distance themselves a bit, before diving in for another collar-and-elbow attempt--that actually goes through this time! Xero again gets the advantage, scoring a side-headlock, which he hurriedly turns into a takedown! But before the man born Steve Simon can crank the returnee’s neck, he reaches back with his leg and locks it around Xero’s own! Referee Krygier has no time to administer the count for Alex to release the choke, as Xero bucks out of it, kipping to his feet. Alex slyly clibs to his knees, and scores his own headlock into a takedown. But in a mirror of the same spot, Xero reaches around, locking a leg on Zenon’s throat, and he bucks out to escape, just as Xero did!

“And another sequence!” Shouts Stevens. “The crowd giving a round of applause for that.”

“Bah, so Zenon goes away and changes his style so he can pretend he can wrestle now? Fantastic. I don’t even any *spots.*” Riley sulks.

“Bobby… you mark for Tom Flesher.”

“Well *yeah,* but who *doesn’t?* And I mean, with a face like that…”

“Um…” Mark shudders, before choosing to ignore Bobby. “Anyway… Xero scoops Alex up by the arm and shoots him to the ropes—no, reversed!” Mark calls, tensely. “Alex waits for him to ricochet back, telegraphing a backdrop…”

“…but Xero leapfrogs him!” Interrupts Riley. “The ‘Roi du DDT’ comes back of the opposite ropes, jumps, and *clocks* Alex with a spinning heel kick to the face!” Riley finishes, grinning.

Xero looks down at Alex, laid out back first on the mat with a grin, impressed with his own handiwork. Nodding sharply, as if deciding on exactly his next move, he runs back to the ropes for momentum!

…and in the blink of an eye, the next series of events leaves everyone stunned.

-fwip-thunk-

…

SMACK!

“…and Z just *kipped-up* and BLASTED Xero with a Spinning Crescent Kick! I’ve never seen him do that before!”

“What the hell? That’s because he’s *never done it before,* Stevens!” Shouts Riley. “Did he learn Karate at that bloody bar, too?”

Mark can only shrug in response, as Alex wallows in the cheers from the crowd for a moment. Spying Xero up to his knees on the mat, slowly collecting himself, Alex walks over to him and pulls him up proper by his arm. Pushing him back into the turnbuckle, Alex sights… before raising up a hand and striking it maliciously across Xero’s chest!

Smack! “Whoo!” And again…

Smack! “Whoooooo!” Once more…

SMACK! “WHOOOOOOO!” Eh. Why the hell not?

SMACK~! “WHOOOOOOOOO!”

“And Z now just laying waste to Xero’s chest with those knife-edged chops! Folks, having taken those in the ring myself, let me tell you they hurt a *lot!*”

Pause. The peanut gallery of the announcer’s table sits in silence.

“Right. Thank you for the insight, Dr. Stevens.” Says Bobby, sarcastically. “I mean, geeze, what kind of morons do you take the fans and I for? Next you’ll be telling me the Figure 4 goes on the *straight* leg!”

Mark cleans his glasses, embarrassed… before realizing something and eyeing Riley. “Hey, Bobby?”

“*What?*”

“It does.”

Mark grins as Riley buries his face in his hands. Back in the ring, Xero slumps in the turnbuckle. Alex takes this opportunity to seize his arm and pull him a bit out from the ‘buckle, and wind around behind Xero in a hammerlock. Then, he points… skyward? The crowd lets go with a large pop!

“Next floor, house wares, electronics and top-rope maneuvers!”

“…that sucked, Mark. Regardless, I have to wonder… what on earth is Zenon going to do from the top rope with an arm-wrench?”

Riley’s question is soon answered as Alex steps backwards into the turnbuckle, climbing up… and setting foot on the top for a ropewalk! (Albeit a tepid one.) The crowd pops again, as the man formerly known as “Z” begins a very carefull walk across the rope, Xero’s arm in hand. Straining under the twinge from the hammerlock, Xero looks at Alex with one eye open, having almost recovered from the chops and the brutal kick. He takes a moment to finally get it together… before suddenly charging the ropes, sending Alex toppling to the outside! The crowd boos as Alex lands with a ‘thump’, rolling to the barricade.

“Hah!” Riley laughs. “I knew it was only a matter of time before Zenon managed to botch *something*.”

“Hardly, Bobby. I just think he didn’t add the amount of punishment he’s inflicted on Xero up properly, and went for the crowd-pleasing move too soon.”

“A mental error, a botched move because you’re a dofus… it’s all the same to me, Stevens. And look out! Xero’s about to capitalize on it right now!”

True to Riley’s words, Xero sizes up the distance between the ring and Alex, taking a few steps back… and then charging toward the ropes behind him! The crowd buzzes, as Xero approaches the opposite ropes… and vaults himself over them, crasing his body on top of Alex’s in a picture-perfect plancha! The crowd cheers in a approval for the highspot… but remember’s it’s Xero, and goes right back to jeering!

“Oh, whuttamaneuver!” Calls Stevens!

“Heh… lost your page mark in that encyclopedia of wrestling moves, Mark?” Queries Riley, smug.

Referee Kris Krygier approaches the ropes, leaning over them to access the situation. Seeing that both men are wiped out, he sighs, and begins to administer the ten-count…

“One!”

…

“Two!”

…Alex twitches.

“Three!”

…Xero twitches.

“Four!”

…Xero is slid into another heap, but over *there,* as Alex pushes him off and picks himself up. He uses the guardrail for leverage, as the dazed Xero pulls himself up with the ring apron.

“Five!”

Alex shakes the cobwebs out of his head, still leaning on the barricade… and blinks as he hears several fans yelling ‘behind you!’. Zenon turns around… to be greeted by Xero and a running forearm! Quickly, Xero takes Alex by the wrist and tosses him toward one of the steel barricades!

“Ah… I see Mr. Zenon is starting to get back into his comfort zone.” Riley smirks.

CRASH! Alex slams into the steel, the sheer force of the Irish Whip causing him to flip upside down on impact! Shaking his head, Krygier starts the count again…

“Six!”

“Well, the competence was nice while it lasted.”

“I wish I could disagree with you, Riley, but Z appears to be falling back into old habbits…” Mark says, with a lopsided look on his face. “And just old times, his opponent is going to give him a break, as Xero looks to be readying another shot!”

“Seven!”

Xero sizes up Alex, running all the way to the opposite barricade. He then powers his legs, charging forward, using the extra space to gain more speed… but also giving Alex that extra split second, as he gains enough of his senses to spy Xero… and drops both of his palms to the mat, using them and his shoulders to power himself away from the barricade! Xero wails helplessly, unable to stop, as his intended knee strike goes horribly awry, colliding with steel!

“Seven!”

“Dammit!” Shouts Riley!

“Crimeny! Xero was looking for a knee strike on what he *thought* was a subdued Z… but all he got was steel! He could have a broken knee!”

“And I’d say…” Riley frowns, sulking. “That Zenon isn’t done yet.”

Several of the crowd members in front of the action ‘ooh’ in sympathy, as Alex rolls back from his hinge and to his feet. Spying Xero exactly where he was, he reacts momentarily, springing forward and bounding on top of the barricade, jumping into the crowd… and using the momentum to POWER a kick into the back of Xero’s head!

“Eight!”

The crowd roars with approval, Xero slumps to the ground, and Alex tries to avoid careening into the “Philadelphia Cheese Warlocks”.

Mark can only smirk as Riley winces. “Owww…”

Alex hurriedly drags himself up to his feet, not having the time to acknowledge the crowd members who pat him on the back. He quickly hops back over the barricade, and pulls up the writing Xero by his karate pants, rolling him into the ring. Krygier breaks the count at nine as Alex himself clambers up to the apron. Alex takes a second to give a weak wave to the crowd, with no count-out pressuring him, and steps into the ring… finding no Xero. He looks over to the opposite turnbuckle… but only in time to see a bald headed figure blaze past him, run up the turnbuckles, bound off, and latch onto Alex’s head! In a blur of motion, Zenon is spun around and *driven* head first into the mat!

“Desperation Tornado DDT from Xero!” Cries Stevens. “He’s absolutely *deadly* with that move, Riley! And he again scores a variation out of nowhere!”

“Well, you’d hope so, what with it being his nickname and such.” States Bobby, airily. “And why do moves keep coming out of ‘nowhere’? Do they have a factory or something?”

As the writer shamelessly rips from EWR, Xero, running on little more than adrenalin, clambers over to Zenon, and pulls him by the tanktop onto his back, sliding over him in a lateral press! Krygier drops!

One!

TWO!

THREE—NO! The crowd lets loose with a roar, as Xero weakly slaps the mat in frustration.

“No good!” Shouts Stevens!

“Bah.” Bobby grumbles. “But it was close! I mean, with the lack of falls in this match, don’t you think we could just let it pass this *one* time…?”

Mark sighs, as Alex and Xero very… slowly… pull themselves to their feet. Still dazed, Alex tries and Irish Whip to the ‘buckle… and succeeds on a tired Xero! Wasting no time, Alex trails Xero as he dashes to the corner… but stops inches from the pads as Xero reaches out, grabbing onto the ropes on either side of the turnbuckle, and slings his legs over Zenon! Xero reaches around, getting a gutwrench! Alex isn’t having any of that, however…

“Back up, and Alex quickly reversing that grapple with a back switch!” Hollers ‘Grand Slam’.

“Ah-ah! Xero’s just not having any of that either, getting his OWN back switch!” Riley smirks. “Ever hear the other cliché ‘Monkey see, monkey do,’ Mark?”

“Yes. But apparently so has Z! Another back switch!”

“Oh yeah!? Well, Xero just trumped that back switch with his own! Again!”

“Yet another back switch for the returnee!”

“Xero back switches!”

“Z back switches!”

“Xeroback switches!”

The two have nearly back switched all the way to the other turnbuckle, by now. Alex, obviously getting tired of this, back swtches once more… grabbing an armbar on the way around! Danny groans with the pressure on his arm, but quickly reaches down to counter, trying for another single-leg takedown! Alex is aware of the tactic this time, and quickly drops Xero’s arm, and downward into a roll, bringing his free foot up and catching Xero in the face with his heel!

“Frontflip Gamengiri!” Mark calls! “Yet another new move!”

A round of applause is heard for Alex, along with a few scattered cheers. Both men sit on the mat, catching their breath… and both men stand at the same time. Xero and Alex lock eyes, circling for a moment… before leaping forth! Xero tries another running forearm, but Alex quickly ducks under. Both men fire back off the ropes—and Alex shovels a boot into the breadbox of Xero! He doubles over, as Alex tries to lock on a front-headlock… but cannot complete whatever move he was trying for, as Xero shoves him away, into the ropes! Alex ricochets back again… and Xero scoops him up, hefting him onto his shoulder!

“Yes!” Cries Riley! “We aren’t in space—although Philly could be considered a black hole—but I’d say it’s time for the Xero Gravity!”

Xero struggles to get a solid grip on the slightly heavier man… but to no avail, as Alex kicks free of Xero, sliding down his shoulder! Before anything else can happen, Alex locks his arms under Xero’s, and positions his thighs so that Xero’s toes are tucked behind them! The crowd begins to swell, as Alex locks his hands under Xero’s jaw…

“Yes…” Starts Mark, shuffling through his notes. “I believe this is the setup for the--”

BAM! –Crunk!- Xero’s neck reverberates brutally off Alex’s shoulder, as he sits to complete the Gory Special Neckbreaker!

“…G.L.E!”

“The *what!?*” Barks Riley!

“Z’s new finisher! Xero looks to be in serious pain! …and Z’s not wasting any time capitalizing!” True to Mark’s words, Alex rolls over Xero, leaning back and hooking a leg for the academic…

One…

TWO!

THREEEEE~!

**DING!DING!DING!**

“The winner of this match, by pinfall… ALEX! ZENOOOONNNN!!” Funyon thunders, as the crowd pops all funky monkey and such!

“And Z pulls it out in his re-debut with a wicked new finisher!” Hollers Stevens! “I always thought Z could be a threat if he could get it tighter in the ring, and I think he may be proving me right! Now, if only he’d consider rejoining the Carnival…”

Riley rolls his eyes, “Whatever, Mark… you should keep in mind that this WAS just Xero. Though…” Pause. “I wish you’d stop calling him ‘Z’. Because as far as I can tell… I don’t think Z exists anymore.” Riley ends on a subtle note of… perhaps foreshadowing? Regardless, Alex celebrates in the ring, climbing up one of the turnbuckles and soaking up the cheers from the crowd…

It’s a new day. There’s a wind of change in the air… it’s anyone’s guess as to what could happen now.

-fade-

November 23, 2002

The camera cuts to a shot of Stubby P. McWeed, strolling down a hallway backstage. Surprisingly, the SWF Commisioner seems to be in a good mood, as he hums "Guerilla Radio" while making his way to wherever he's going. However, something suddenly catches Stubby's eye, causing him to skid to a halt. McWeed walks up to a piece of paper hanging on the wall, labeled "Tentative PPV Card".

And that's when his good mood is shot to shit. For at the top of the card, the main event reads...

WORLD TITLE MATCH

El Luchadore Magnifico vs. ???

Magnifico will be facing a returning superstar who will be revealed on the night of the show.

Stubby stares at the article for a second, dumbfounded...and then snatches the card, tearing it off of the wall! Stubby turns on his heel, card in hand, and heads in the direction opposite he came.

"Magnifico!!" shouts Stubby, "Where the hell are you?!"

Fade...

November 23, 2002

“The landscape of the Smarks Wrestling Federation has been wrought by avalanches and earthquakes. You can’t miss a show these days, because people and motivations are changing in the blinks of an eye!”

“That’s right, The Heavy Hitter! What I’d like to focus on right here, other disputes notwithstanding, is Thoth-Orochi. A lot of you have taken to calling him that... well, I suggest you don’t. The man formerly known as Thoth is now known as Orochi, and it’s just stupid to refer to him by his old name. In any case, as The Heavy Hitter was saying-”

“Ah, Riley... I don’t think you need to put the word The in front of Heavy Hitter-”

“Nonsense! I mean, you’ve heard of The Cheat, right? Strong Bad’s little buddy. Everyone loves the cheat! I’m just trying to give you the rub, man. It’s The Heavy Hitter! How’s The Heavy Hitter today? And so forth.”

“Well, in typical Bobby Riley fashion, you completely forgot to hype the segment. And in typical Mark Stevens fashion, I’m gonna have to pick it up for you.” Inhale. Exhale. And go.

“On last week’s Storm, after all the matches were done, Thoth came out, flanked by his good friends Mak Francis and Ced Ordonez and... well, take a look at the footage. Words are kind of hard to explain what happened.”

(Footage clipped to the kicks to the face and Riot of the Blood, and the tail end of the speech, claiming the death of Thoth and the rise of Orochi.)

“Tom Flesher has gotten under Thoth’s skin so much that he had a complete nervous breakdown, or at least that’s my best guess. In any case, this new persona was enough to scare Tom Flesher that he pulled his allies closer to himself, and welcomed back Mak Francis and new recruit Ced Ordonez into his armada.”

“Normally, these men and woman would hate one another, but the threat of Orochi has banded them together. Who knows, maybe he truly is the light.”

“Whatever. I think he swallowed his crackpipe. In any case, the first opponent for the newly-christened Orochi is CIA, and from what I’ve heard, he hasn’t taken too kindly to he who has turned his back on friendship. And it looks like Funyon is ready to get this party started...”

The camera cuts to a dapperly-dressed Funyon, who raises the mic as “O Canada” starts to play solemnly over the PA, which quickly segues into “Secret Agent Man” with a burst of red pyro. “The following contest,” says Funyon, “Is scheduled for one fall! Introducing first, from Ottawa, Ontario, Canada, weighing in at 237 pounds... C... I... A!”

CIA is a mixture of smiles and business, a precarious balance between the two as he climbs into the ring, awaiting his opponent with a large amount of anticipation mixed with anger. A man fighting for the side of justice will undoubtedly become enraged at the sight of another man dropping the torch and joining the side of evil. His shoulders bristle, and his teeth clench together.

“No one’s seen or heard from Thoth, er, Orochi since one week ago... and we have no idea if he’s changed dramatically since that fateful day-”

Mark Stevens is cut off by the sudden burst of music, Hikaru Utada’s “Hikari” to be exact, and contrary to most people’s entrances, the lights become a shade of pure, blinding white.

“Don'na tokidatte,

Tatta hitori de,

Unmei wasurete,

Ikitekita no ni,

Totsuzen no hikari no naka, megasameru,

Mayonaka ni...”

And the entire crowd is silent for just a moment as the man now known as Orochi steps out onto the stage, his arms wide. Anybody who was being exposed to the SWF for the firts time would have no idea that this man and Thoth were the same person. His hair is now white, his pants white, his shoes white, and across his chest and upper arms, what seem to be ritual markings, painted in black. Upon sight, the entire crowd starts to boo him, the boos only becoming louder and louder. Orochi only keeps his arms spread wide, his deceitful smile, spreading as wide as it can.

“And, his opponent, from Aechiba, Japan, weighing in at 245 pounds... OROCHI!”

The boos grow ever louder as Orochi saunters down the ramp and through the entryway, smiling as the climbs the stairs and looking across at his foe, the Canadian Intelligence Agent. CIA looks almost horrified at this bizarre transformatrion as Orochi walks around the ring, spreading his brand of “love” to the masses. The lights begin to turn down to normal luminance, but even so, Orochi’s white garb is still as bright as ever. The former Balancer walks to the ropes, spreading his arms wide... and CIA can stand the sight no longer, charging at Orochi from behind, laying in a few forearm blows to the back of his neck as the bell hurriedly rings.

*DING DING DING*

This act draws a quick pop from the crowd, and CIA follows it up with an irish whip that sends Orochi running to the ropes... or it would, but he reverses, sending CIA for the ride! He winds up, and throws a big clothesline... which misses because CIA ducks, and continues to the other side! Orochi is carried forward by the momentum of the move and CIA leaps into the air from behind, hoping to catch Orochi with a blow to the back of the head... but even as he stumbles foward, Orochi rears back with a vicious kick that catches CIA right in the gut! The Canadian fan favorite’s forward momentum is stopped in an instant as he doubles over, falling onto his knees. Orochi grins, saying “Now you will feel the light!” in a seething tone, while pulling on CIA’s hair to lift him to his feet. He pushes him away, to arm’s length, and winds up, connecting with a vicious uppercut that sends CIA reeling into the corner. Moving and thinking quickly, Orochi hits a snap mare takeover, bringing CIA out of the corner and into a sitting position. The crowd groans in anticipation of the pain that Orochi’s next move will bring. The Lightbringer crouches on the first rope, and then pushes off, striking the Canadian with a vicious knee to the back of the head!

“Though he has a new name and a new look, he still has the same dangerous wrestling style and attitude,” remarks Stevens, as Orochi hooks the leg.

ONE!

TWO!

And it’s way too early, as CIA kicks out with ease. Orochi gets to his feet, and with a short, high-pitched shriek, lays in repeated boots to CIA’s face and chest. Mark Stevens surveys the match in disbelief.

“What could have caused such a monstrous change in Thoth? I thought he finally had his life on track, but he’s regressed so far... farther perhaps than when he first joined many moons ago in the Minor League?”

“I think,” says Riley, already uttering a contradiction in terms, “That what’s more important is how... and more importantly, if, he’s going to be able to triumph against Orochi’s offense.”

Tired of stomping away on him, and also following the referee’s admonitions, brings CIA to his feet and hooks him for a snap suplex, which he executes with ease, the velocity of the move resulting in a loud bang when CIA meets canvas. Floatover and a cover...

ONE!

TWO!

TH- Kickout.

“I also notice that Orochi, er, Thoth, er, Orochi... well whatever, seems to be wrestling a more power-based style, instead of just a mix of power and technical. Though his moveset seems the same, I think that his moves are more methodical and meant to cause more damage on an individual basis.”

“Wow Stevens, that’s great... what did you do, read a book or something?”

“Bobby, when we do this job, it’s not just a paycheck. I like to do my homework. Because in the end, it’s all about the fans.”

“No... it’s all about... ME! WOO-HAH!”

“In ANY case, CIA has yet to hit any major offense in this matchup. Orochi has been so envigorated by his newfound direction that, for lack of a better word or phrase, he’s tearing all kinds of ass in that ring.”

But no sooner than Stevens says that, and Orochi pulls CIA up, that CIA fights out of it, lands a few stiff punches to the face, then launches himself into the ropes! Orochi shakes it off quickly, to see the Canadian fly at him! He throws a kick instinctively... but CIA was expecting it, ducking under, continuing to the other side, and connecting with the Roaring Elbow, at which time Bobby Riley cannot resist the urge to yell “ROURINGU ERUBOO!” in a bad Japanese accent as Orochi falls to the mat! CIA, his eyes wide, runs to the ropes as the man dressed in all white gets up ever so slowly. He’s greeted by another roaring elbow, which takes him back down! The intensity of the crowd has peaked noticeably as CIA goes for the hot cover!

ONE!

TWO!

And Orochi shoots the shoulder up. As the camera cuts away, a fan holds out a sign that says “I have no idea what Orochi means and I don’t care”. Not frustrated in the least, CIA picks him up to his feet, and whips him to the corner. Hard. Orochi doesn’t even have time to turn around, taking the full impact on his chest, actually bouncing back a few feet. CIA is right there to juggle Orochi like a pinball, throwing a dropkick to knock him back into the turnbuckles for good. CIA grabs ahold of him around his head and neck, and clenches tightly as he reorients Orochi to face towards the center of the ring. With a running start, he leaps, hoping for a bulldog... and rides a wave of air, and literally nothing else as Orochi shoves him off. CIA lands on his back, and pops back up, not too worse for wear, but Orochi grabs an arm and chucks him into the same corner. Immediately after, even before CIA’s back has made contact with the buckle, he’s already running, and at the right moment, he leaps up and sticks a knee out in front of him, catching CIA vertically across the chest and face! It looks very painful, even for a move that’s relatively silent, and the crowd winces in pain as CIA falls forward onto the mat. Like a greedy carnivore, Orochi bends down and quickly flips CIA onto his back, making soft screeching noises as the makes the cover.

ONE!

TWO!

THR- And a shoulder up from the plucky Canadian.

“Thoth used to be such good friends with the Carnival too, especially after leaving the Clan behind. Perhaps CIA, though he wasn’t affiliated with the wacky Carnies at the time, feels some kind of debt that needs to be repaid with a victory here tonight.”

Orochi hooks a quick Double Arm DDT and connects, a move meant to put CIA more on the ground rather than disable him completely. He goes to the apron, and climbs the ropes with aplomb. Atop them, he has a better view of not only the prone CIA and the entire ring, but of the crowd as well. The sheep, as he now refers to them, sheep that need to be led by a capable shepherd. And of course, he offered himself up for the job. Focusing now on the task at hand, he takes to the air, and in a familiar, Thoth-like fashion, he bends his knees, preparing to use them like sharp points as he would drive them into the back of CIA. He reaches the apex of his jump, and starts to fall...

And CIA rolls out of the way, leaving Orochi’s knees to jarr painfully with the canvas! He pops quickly up, hunched over slightly as his kneecaps vibrate with the impact. He is disoriented long enough for CIA to sneak up behind and SCORE BIG TIME with a release Belly to Back Suplex! Orochi falls ass backwards, and CIA stands strong. The crowd... is about... to POP! CIA sugnals that he’s going up top... “Could he be going for Air Canada?” suggests Stevens, as he ascends the near turnbuckle from inside the ring, facing away from Orochi, looks behind him... and lowers his shoulders in disappointment as Orochi gets to his feet. Though he’s unable to use Air Canada, he nonetheless leaps off, flipping through midair, looking for a version of the body press... but Orochi steps into it and catches him in an upside down position... the fans gasp as he tries to cradle the leg!

“Orochi is trying to hit a Riot of the Blood... this’ll surely end the match!”

Orochi, however, is having difficulty cradling the leg because CIA is kicking violently, frantically, in an effort to stay afloat offensively in the match. It distracts the white-clad Lightbringer long enough for CIA to snatch one of Orochi’s legs and pull, dropping him to the mat and ending up with CIA scoring an unwieldy pinfall attempt! The referee drops to count...

ONE!

TW- And Orochi kicks out, escaping. “CIA didn’t have enough body to body coverage there,” remarks Stevens. “It looked like a tangled mass of human waste,” adds Riley. Orochi gets to his feet and knocks CIA down with a stiff leg lariat. He screeches out in frustration loudly as he stomps away on the Canadian. The crowd, unsure of how to react at such a sound, goes to default: Booing and hissing. Orochi mounts his foe, laying in as many punches as he humanly can. The referee leans in to admonish him, but Orochi turns his head towards the sound of his voice and hisses, a gurgling noise emanating from his throat and wafting towards the official’s ears. The ref steps back, completely flabbergasted, before remembering he indeed has a job to do, and starts a 5-count. Orochi makes a point of breaking at four and a half, and snarling at the ref like a crazy man again. He shoves CIA down to the mat and makes another cover.

ONE!

TWO!

TH- And another shoulder up. The frustration on Orochi’s brow is totally self-evident now, and the former man who preached giving light to the world has been reduced to a snarling... raving... animal.

“If there’s any doubts about how far Tom Flesher is penetrated into the mind of Yuuichiro Kaesame, I implore you to look at your television screens right now and tell me that the man with the white hair has not lost his humanity.”

CIA reaches out, lunging heartedly at nothing at all, trying to grab at some form of energy, but the fact that Orochi is having his way with him, ravaging his body with feet and fists... is dulling that hope. The crowd starts to chant and clap rhythmically, and the Canadian Intelligence Agent, having nothing else to focus on, begins to feel the rhythm deep in his heart... in his soul. Even as the wild Orochi wails away on him, he feels the love and power, and fights to his feet, slamming Orochi in the face over and over, and then running to the ropes, leaping back, and flying through the air for a giant flying forearm...

Orochi ducks, and catches CIA on his back... standing up, he brings CIA out in front him and cradles the leg as he drives him through the canvas, head first. Mark Stevens solemnly calls the move. “Piercing Light by Orochi, his new finisher...” he sighs as he hooks the leg, and the ref counts.

ONE!

TWO!

THREE!

*DING DING DING*

“Hikari” plays again as Orochi gets to his feet, grinning like a fool as Funyon makes the announcement.

“Here is your winner... OROCHI!”

“Well, Orochi gets the win... at the cost of his soul. Frankly, I’m sickened by this. I’m sickened by this entire display.” And Stevens goes quiet. Riley, for once, doesn’t try to make a quip or anything like that. Perhaps he would normally, but to be honest, Orochi just picked up a mic, and “Hikari” cuts off as he starts to speak.

“*Pant*... *Pant* ... Tom Flesher... Mak Francis... Ced Ordonez... and the rest of you... you think... that... *Pant* you can stop me? What I have wrought here today... *Pant*... is the beginning of a dawn. A dawn in which... *Pant* ...in which those that accept the light will earn freedon, and those that shun it... those that turn towards the darkness... *Pant* ...will face torment upon torments. And today I swear this, consecrated with the body of my opponent tonight.” He drops the mic, and “Hikari” plays again where it left off, as Orochi walks single-mindedly up the ramp as the camera fades to black and the show cuts to commercial.

November 23, 2002

Stubby P. McWeed is shown storming down a backstage hallway, apparently looking for El Luchadore Magnifico. His search comes to an end, however, when Stubby finds a door with the words "Midnight Carnival" posted on the front in large, festive letters. Mr. McWeed grabs the door and angrily throws it open to see ELM sitting alone in the locker room, facing away from Stubby.

"Tienes un problema, senor Stubby?" questions Magnifico wryly.

"I don't know what you just said, and I don't care." replies Stubby, enraged, as he steps in front of Magnifico. McWeed looks ELM directly in the eye and holds up the Pay-Per-View card.

"Do you know anything about this?" questions Stubby, knowing full well that he does.

"Well, maybe." Magnifico grins. "Why do you want to know?"

"Why? WHY?!" shouts Stubby. "ELM, I specifically said that you would NOT be facing this returning person at the Pay-Per-View! And quite honestly, I'm just a BIT annoyed to see the match you wanted that I forbid Main Eventing MY Pay-Per-View."

Magnifico releases a small chuckle and shakes his head. "Ah, Stubby. You didn't think I would just let you have your way like that, did you?" Magnifico asks. "Remember when I said that I was going to have my match, and that there was nothing you could do about it?"

"Yeah, so-" Stubby stops himself, apparently coming to a realization. "Oh, shit...you didn't..."

"I sure did." Magnifico replies, grinning even wider.

"You little bastard...you went right over my head, didn't you?!" Stubby shouts.

"That's exactly right." confirms Magnifico. "After I realized that there was no way you'd book me against the returning Superstar, I made a little call to the parent company of the SWF. You remember them, right? The Japanese guys you work for? Well, anyway, I told them of my plan in great detail, and they saw terrific potential in it. SO much potential, in fact, that they guaranteed the match right over the phone."

Stubby stares at Magnifico for a second, gritting his teeth as he struggles to control the rage that bubbles inside him. "I'll suspend you." Stubby finally says.

"Oooh, not a good idea." Magnifico counters, frowning. "If your bosses were suddenly denied of a match they were so looking forward to, then the consequences against you might be dire."

His face twisted in rage, Stubby can do nothing but glare at the luchadore and resist the urge to punch him in the face.

"You won't get away with this, ELM." spits Stubby.

"I already have." Magnifico cooly responds.

Upon hearing this, Stubby turns and storms out of the locker room, mumbling up a storm of curses as he does so.

"Oye, jefe!" Magnifico shouts after him. "Have a good day, ya?"

Fade...

November 23, 2002

"Welcome back to SWF Storm," greets "Grand Slam" Mark Stevens. "We're going to continue with our next match in just a moment."

"But first," adds Bobby Riley, "let me ask you a question, folks. Do you own your own home?"

"Oh, God," sighs Stevens.

"If you're looking for quality homeowner's insurance, be sure to consult Breggan Industries! We'll get you a quality rate, guaranteed or half your money back! That's B-R-E-G--"

"Dammit, Riley, you're peddling insurance now? Do you ever give up?"

"Hey, I gotta make a buck somehow, and I'm certainly not making it on this lousy announcer's job!"

"Maybe if you didn't act so bored all the time and actually tried CALLING the MATCHES, the SWF might actually pay you more!" Stevens sighs again. "Whatever. As I was saying, it's time for our next match here on Storm..."

"Johnny... angry Johnny...this is... Jezebel in hell..."

The sound of Poe (the pop singer, that is... not Edgar Allen by any means) floats through the arena and a red spotlight shines at the top of the ramp. Out comes the latest incarnation of Annie Eclectic, clutching one of her title belts over the shoulder of her red catsuit and wearing the other one around her waist, blowing kisses at the audience with her free hand as she begins her trek to the ring, and receiving a fair pop as a result.

"The following contest is a triple threat match under hardcore rules," announces Funyon, "scheduled for ONE fall, and it is for the SWF Hardcore Championship! Introducing first, from Indianapolis, Indiana... she is the SWF Hardcore Champion AND the SWF United States Champion... ANNNNNNIEEEEEEEEE ECLEEEEEECTIIIIIIIIIIC!"

"Looks like the audience is primed and ready for Annie Eclectic's first defense of the Hardcore title," reports Stevens, "just one week after winning the belt from Ash Ketchum right here on Storm!"

"These fans are nothing but sheep!" exclaims Riley. "Annie is the most two-faced SWF wrestler I've ever seen! She switches from side, to side, to side, and the audience? They don't care. They cheer when they're told to cheer, and that's enough to keep them happy!"

"That's an awfully strong statement, Riley," Stevens replies. "I'm sure you'd be eating those words about now if Annie had actually heard you. She is a double champion, you know!"

Annie makes it to the bottom of the ramp, but before entering the ring, stops, sets both her belts down, and lifts the ring apron, looking underneath the ring for a particular object.

"What is she doing, playing hide and seek?" asks Riley.

"I bet she's getting a weapon!" Stevens answers. "This is to be a hardcore match, after all."

Sure enough, Annie retrieves her trademark Singapore cane from underneath the ring, and then clambers onto the apron, sliding into the ring between the second and third ropes. She turns to face the Smarktron as her music fades out.

The Smarktron image changes to display a spinning red and white sphere, spinning faster and faster, until it is blocked out by the image of Ash Ketchum's face winking at the camera. A pyrotechnic blast erupts on the stage as Billy Crawford's "Pokemon Theme" hits the speakers.

"Oh, God," Riley mutters. "It's the Poke Freak."

As if on cue, the audience launches into raucous applause as the Undercard King appears on the stage.

"Baaaah," mocks Riley.

"Next," Funyon shouts, continuing his announcing duties, "making his way to the ring, from Tampa, Florida, weighing in at 260 pounds... AAAAAAASH KETCHUUUUUUMMMM!"

Surprisingly, Ash Ketchum doesn't seem to notice the fans on this particular night, his concentration devoted entirely on Annie Eclectic instead. He breaks into a run down the ramp, quickly sliding into the ring to do some damage. Annie panics and swings the cane at Ash, but Ash ducks, and quickly grabs Annie by the shoulders and drops her into a speedy DDT. The bell rings to start the match as Annie reels from Ash's opening blow, the cane flying out of her hand.

"Ash just couldn't wait for this match to get started!" Stevens notes.

"Isn't this supposed to be a triple threat?" Riley wonders aloud.

If Ash worries any about the missing third competitor of the Hardcore title match, he doesn't show it, laying into Annie with sheer brutality. Ash rolls onto Annie and throws several mounted punches to her chest, causing the self proclaimed Hardcore Queen to shriek in pain. Annie shoves Ash out of her way and struggles to get to her feet, but Ash takes control again, grabbing Annie from behind, by the waist, and throwing her backwards in a textbook release suplex. Annie tries to get up again, but Ash picks up the fallen Singapore cane and advances on his opponent, aiming squarely and swinging. The cane strikes true across Annie's back, and she buckles, devastated by the cane shot. Ash swings again, striking in the same place, and Annie drops soundly to her knees.

"My God!" Stevens shouts. "Ash is using Annie's own weapon against her!"

"Sometimes it just doesn't pay to be Queen," Riley comments.

Ash drops to the mat, hooking Annie's leg to attempt an early cover on her.

ONE!

TWO!

Annie thrusts her shoulder into the air, pushing Ash aside again and stopping the referee's count. Both Annie and Ash get up, and Ash smashes a forearm into Annie's upper body, perfectly content to continue doing damage to her. Ash then Irish whips Annie into the ropes. Annie helplessly ricochets off the ropes and returns to an expectant Ash, who grabs her into a hip toss, causing her to land on her back again.

"Ash is really doing a number on Annie's back," Stevens says. "I suppose that's one way to wear her down. Ash really wants that title back!"

Ash returns to his original plan of laying into Annie with a series of mounted punches, but his concentration is suddenly broken as...

A bell suddenly tolls in the distance, silencing the announcers and interrupting Ash's furious offense on Annie. The haunting bell is accompanied by faint orchestral music playing a somewhat familiar theme, and a slow dimming of the arena lights. The bell tolls a second time, and then a third, blacking the arena out completely. The music fades out, and then suddenly a series of pyrotechnic blasts erupt, rocketing across the sides of the stage area. The rocking sounds of "Halo" by Soil drop in at that moment, and the lights come back on to reveal the match's third competitor standing on stage, clad all in black, with his distinctive hooded cloak and metal faceplate making him recognizable on sight. The audience immediately begins jeering the competitor; though it is the stranger's debut match, the fans have no love for this man.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Funyon announces, "introducing the third competitor of this match, weighing in at 293 pounds... SIIIIIIGILLLLLLLL!"

Standing at nearly seven feet tall and weighing close to three hundred pounds, the man known as Sigil looks every inch the behemoth as he walks slowly and deliberately down the ramp, eyeing his opponents closely. Ash stands up, leaving the fallen Annie alone, and walks to the ropes closest the stage, pointing and cursing at Sigil.

"Well, folks, here he is," says Stevens. "This will be the debut match for Sigil, a man who has already made an impact here in the SWF. Recently, he brutally attacked Ben Hardy backstage, and then he destroyed Edrigan Sloan, one of the Smarks Junior League's developmental talents."

"Not to mention he sucker punched Funyon on Smarkdown!" Riley adds. "I mean, who does that kind of thing around here?"

"That's really a stupid question, Riley," Stevens answers.

"Huh?"

Sigil finally reaches the bottom of the ramp, and stands in wait for a long moment as Ash continues his tirade of insults.

"Ash really has some issues with this Sigil guy," Riley says, noting the obvious.

Sigil continues to stand still, just watching Ash, seemingly amused by the intensity of anger displayed by the Undercard King. Meanwhile, Annie Eclectic, now being completely ignored by Ash, has returned to her feet, and picked up her Singa cane from off the mat.

"Uh oh," says Stevens. "Ash, watch out!"

Ash is oblivious to Annie's recovery, and reels in pain as Annie brings the wooden cane down forcefully across Ash's head with a resounding SMACK. Ash falls forward, his forearms catching the top rope for support to remain standing, but Annie grabs Ash by the waist and boosts him over the top rope, causing him to fall over the ropes, dropping down off the ring apron to the floor below... right at the feet of Sigil, who still hasn't moved, laying in wait for his first challenge.

"I don't think this is going to be pretty," warns Stevens.

The masked Sigil, displaying impressive ability, suddenly reaches down and picks up Ash by the collar of his shirt, actually lifting him into the air this way, gripping Ash's back with his other hand for support. Sigil backs several steps away from the ring, turns around to face the audience, and then slams Ash downward. Ash's head thumps against the top of the black security barricade (padded, yet still painful), and then Ash's body rolls off the barricade and back to the floor of the ring area. Sigil picks up Ash again, in the same manner as the first time, until Ash is in a standing position. Sigil then hurls Ash in a hard Irish whip toward the ring post. Ash trips over the steel staircase in the corner and falls over it, rolling onto his back on the floor.

"Sigil's tearing Ash apart!" Riley cries.

"This colossus doesn't seem to have much respect for human life!" Stevens notes.

Sigil steps toward Ash's body and places one foot on Ash's chest, standing over his opponent in a cocky pin attempt. Due to the hardcore rules of the match, pinfalls can take place anywhere, even outside the ring, and so the referee slides out of the ring to make the count.

ONE!

TWO!

...and Ash kicks out before the count of three. Sigil's eyes darken in what could only be translated as a frown, and the Endbringer goes on the offensive again. This time Sigil lifts Ash off the floor and hurls him clear over the security barricade! Ash crashes into several fans inhabiting the first two rows of chairs, and there is momentary chaos as steel and bodies collide and tumble to the floor. A compliment of large men with yellow T-shirts bearing the words "Event Staff" hurry to clean up the mess left by Sigil's reckless offense.

"And behold, ladies and gentlemen, as Ash falls into the crowd," Stevens comments. "You can't do this kind of thing in Pennsylvania any more, so enjoy."

"Hey, Stevens," notes Riley. "I think Sigil just Stashed the Ash! Ha! Get it?"

Mark Stevens noticably winces at his broadcast partner's vain attempt at humor.

Sigil spends a moment surveying his handiwork from his own side of the security barrier, nodding slowly to himself. Suddenly there is a loud CRACK as a Singapore cane is swung across Sigil's back -- and breaks in two! Unknown to Sigil, Annie Eclectic had climbed out of the ring with the cane during Sigil's one-sided attack on Ash, and managed to sneak up on Sigil. However, if Sigil looks injured by the breaking of the cane across his back, he doesn't show it, merely standing in place, taking in a couple of deep breaths.

"Holy--!" Stevens starts, then rephrases his sentence for family viewing. "Sigil just no sold that Singapore cane shot!"

"Oh, NO!" Riley cries. "It's the HVILLE THUGG! He's come back to kill us all!"

"Um, no," Stevens insists. "This guy isn't quite as big as Thugg."

"Hville Thugg on a diet?" Riley tries. Stevens merely shakes his head.

Sigil slowly turns around to face the now panicking Annie Eclectic. Annie throws down the remaining piece of the cane she had been holding, and hurries back for the (limited and temporary) safety of the ring. Annie hops back onto the apron and slides through the ropes to get back in, then glances back to confirm that Sigil is following her.

Sigil doesn't follow -- at least, not right away. He lifts up the ring apron and looks inside, obviously searching for a weapon.

"Sigil is getting himself a weapon," Stevens notes.

"At that size he doesn't need one!" Riley remarks.

Sigil pokes his head back out of the ring apron, sliding out a large flat wooden table as he goes. The audience starts to pop for the table's appearance, and a chant of "WE WANT TABLES! WE WANT TABLES!" kicks up among the more hardcore audience members. Sigil slides the table into the ring underneath the bottom rope. Sigil then climbs onto the ring apron and tries to re-enter the ring himself, but Annie is dead set against letting that happen. As Sigil stands on the opposite side of the ring ropes, Annie launches into a run, leaps into the air, and succeeds in drop kicking Sigil straight in the mouth! As Annie alights beside the ropes, Sigil is knocked off the ring apron, and tumbles down to the floor below.

"Drop Kiss on Sigil," says Stevens, "and it looks like Annie actually got in an offensive move on the monster!"

With Sigil out of the way for the moment, Annie takes hold of the wooden table herself, standing it up in the center of the ring. It takes Annie several seconds to get the table into a standing position, and in that time, Sigil is able to climb the ring apron, leap clear over the top rope, and re-enter the ring. Sigil doesn't even give the Hardcore Queen time to react -- he simply mows her down, launching his body at her with a huge Clothesline from Hell that knocks her hard on her back in the center of the ring, right beside the free standing table. Sigil picks Annie up off her back and lifts her in the air, flipping her backward in a devastating high angle suplex that drops her on her shoulders in a dangerous display of violence that could have ended Annie's career right there - a slight miscalculation could have broken her neck.

"Hey, that was uncalled for!" exclaims Riley.

"I don't think this Sigil character wants to make himself known for doing things 'by the book,' Riley," Stevens answers.

Sigil rolls the limp Annie onto her back and hooks her leg for a cover attempt.

ONE!

TWO!

THRE-- NO! What's this? Sigil personally lifts Annie's shoulder off the mat, breaking the count and his own pinfall attempt!

"Well, isn't that the height of arrogance!" Stevens mutters. "Sigil had the match won right there, but instead he wants to inflict more punishment! Can't anything stop this behemoth?"

The question goes unanswered as Sigil stands and backtracks to the ropes. The man known as the Revolution quickly ascends to the second rope, and leaps off, dropping a leg over the hapless Annie Eclectic as the audience begins jeering the mysterious powerhouse. The semi-aerial move looks impressive coming from the black-clad Sigil, as his cloak sails through the air behind him, almost taking on a life of its own. Sigil lands the move, his leg landing atop Annie's chest and doing even more damage to the already badly wounded champion.

"Sigil is totally destroying the Hardcore Champion," Stevens reports, "and it's going to take a miracle right now for Annie to walk out of here with her title reign intact."

"A miracle? I think a can of pepper spray would do the trick equally well," Riley guesses.

At this point, Sigil calmly pulls free the knot holding his two piece hooded cloak in place, and thus pulls the hood free from his head, revealing the top of his head, which has been shaved completely bald. The removal of the hood have no effect on the placement of the cloak itself or the silver faceplate covering his nose and mouth.

"Aagh!" cries Riley in disgust. "He looked better with the hood on!"

Sigil clutches the hood of his cloak in both hands, and then wraps it firmly around the chin and neck of Annie, then stretching it around to the top of her head, where he pulls it taut, causing Annie to begin choking.

"And look at this devastating submission!" cries Stevens. "Sigil calls this move the Shroud! The big man is literally choking the life out of our Hardcore Champion!"

Annie tries valiantly to escape the submission hold, but she is barely conscious as it is, and the count down to her impending submission can be measured in seconds. Sigil pulls even tighter, squeezing the air away from Annie as the crowd roars in protest.

And suddenly, seemingly from out of nowhere, Sigil is beaned across the head by... a styrofoam cup?

"What the HELL?" blurt Riley and Stevens at the same time.

Sigil glances up, letting go of the hood and the submission hold, startled by the foreign object that has just struck him no the head. A moment later, a second object flies into the ring, hitting him on the shoulder... a beer can?

"What the devil is going on here?" Stevens wonders aloud.

And then the crowd roars as everyone spots it -- Ash Ketchum, standing just outside the ring, throwing various concession items at Sigil -- cans, cups, popcorn boxes, all gathered together on a flat metal tray.

"It's Ash!" shouts Stevens.

"Did he get all that from the AUDIENCE?" Riley wonders, cracking up laughing.

"Well, it's certainly an interesting choice of weaponry, if not a very powerful one," Stevens admits.

Ash's distraction works, as it infuriates Sigil enough to ignore Annie completely and stand up, walking threateningly toward Ash. Ash backs away from the ring, and Sigil rolls himself over the top rope to drop to his feet on the floor below. Ash attacks the only way he can think of -- he slams the metal tray across Sigil's face. This does little to Sigil other than to make the Voice even more angry than he already is. Ash backs away from Sigil and grabs a steel chair, emblazoned with the SWF logo, from the nearby timekeeper's table. As Sigil quickly approaches, Ash folds up the steel chair and swings it as hard as he can at Sigil's face. The chair strikes true, and dizzies Sigil, who stumbles a few steps from the force of the impact. Ash raises his fist enthusiastically, excited to have finally done some damage to Sigil, and attempts to capitalize while he's ahead. Ash quickly stands the steel stairs back up (they had been knocked over earlier when Sigil whipped Ash into them), grabs hold of the steel chair with both hands, and begins his move, running up the stairs to the ring apron, then leaping onto the second rope. Ash then bounces off the rope, leaping backwards, lionsault style, concluding the move in a breathtaking backflip in Sigil's direction. As Ash sails through the air, he slams the chair down atop Sigil's bald head! The crowd explodes in approval as Sigil drops to the floor!

"CHAIRSAULT!" exclaims Stevens. "What an incredible aerial display by Ash Ketchum, taking out Sigil! Ash put his body on the line for that high risk move, and boy, did it pay off!"

"That could be all she wrote for Sigil," says Riley. "IF Ash pins him now, Ash will win the Hardcore title!"

"That's right," Stevens confirms. "Due to the triple threat rules of this match, Annie Eclectic can lose her title without even being involved in the decision!"

Sure enough, Ash Ketchum attempts a pinfall. Unfortunately, the referee is still inside the ring, as he was checking on the condition of Annie Eclectic. The referee hurriedly runs to the ropes, kicking aside a styrofoam cup as he goes. The official slides through the ropes to the outside area and dives down on his knees next to Sigil and Ash to make the count.

ONE!

TWO!

THREE -- NO!!! Somehow Sigil manages to get a shoulder up off the floor!

"Unbelievable! The monster is still in this!" hollers Stevens. "If the referee hadn't been distracted inside the ring, Ash would've had this match won!"

"And this upsets you?" Riley asks in confusion.

Sigil begins to get back to his feet, and Ash decides to hightail it back to the ring. In his haste, he forgets about the steel chair that he has left on the floor right beside Sigil, and so Sigil obligingly picks it up as he stands.

Ash slides into the ring to find the formerly unconscious Annie Eclectic, now starting to come around!

"Hey, look!" Riley exclaims, indicating Annie. "She's all right! She's conscious again!"

Ash dives at Annie and rolls her up in a school boy pin, trying to capitalize on her weakened state for a cover attempt.

ONE!

TWO!

THR-- and Annie kicks out of the roll up, shoving Ash out of the way as she gets back to her feet. Annie runs to the ropes as Ash tries to approach her. Annie leaps onto the bottom rope, bouncing back off the rope in a perfectly timed flying cross body that catches Ash off guard, sending both wrestlers to the mat. This time it is Annie that attempts the cover, trying to pin Ash for the win.

ONE!

TWO!

THRE-- NO! Ash gets his shoulder up to stop the count in the nick of time. Meanwhile, Sigil climbs back into the ring, steel chair gripped firmly in hand. As Ash gets back to his feet, Sigil clobbers him across the upper back with the chair. A badly injured Ash falls to the mat, battered and bruised by the chair shot. Sigil then hurls the chair, and watches as it flies clear out of the ring and down to the floor below. Satisfied, Sigil rolls Ash onto his back, and lifts Ash up off the mat, gripping Ash by his arms. As Sigil holds up Ash, he adjusts his grip and raises Ash over his head. Sigil clutches Ash just underneath his shoulders, in a move that forces Ash to outstretch his arms in a cross like fashion.

"Uh oh," says Stevens. "It's Sigil's finisher -- the Redemption!"

Sigil suspends Ash in the air for several seconds, and then suddenly, quickly, slams Ash forward to the mat, dropping Ash on his back with his arms still outstretched. Ash is out for the count, knocked cold by the sheer force of Sigil's tremendous blow.

"Whoo!" giggles Riley. "I guess Ash has just been REDEEMED!"

Sigil advances on Ash for what could surely be a match winning pinfall, but he is distracted when Annie Eclectic, having snuck up on Sigil from behind, spins him around to face her -- and spews a thick, viscous green substance directly in his eyes!

"Green mist!" cries Stevens. "I think Annie may have just blinded Sigil!"

Annie starts an Irish whip on the blinded Sigil, who is busy trying to claw the mist out of his eyes, but Annie's ankle is suddenly grabbed -- by Ash! Ash wasn't unconscious after all; he had merely been playing possum! Ash's outstretched arm manages to trip Annie, knocking her to the mat, where Ash climbs over her and rolls her into another school boy pin!

ONE!

TWO!

THREE -- NO, Annie reverses the roll up, by sliding Ash to the mat and trying a roll up of her own -- a small package! The referee, already on the mat from the first roll up, makes a quick and decisive count!

ONE!

TWO!

THREE!

The bell rings, the crowd roars, and much to everyone's surprise, including Annie's, "Angry Johnny" hits the speakers again and Funyon makes the obvious victory announcement for the crowd: "The winner of this contest, and STILL SWF Hardcore Champion... ANNNNIEEEEEEEE ECLEEEEECTIIIIIIIC!"

"Unbelievable!" Stevens exclaims. "Someway, somehow, Annie Eclectic manages to eke out a win over both Ash Ketchum and Sigil, and retain her Hardcore title with a roll up pin over Ash! The Hardcore Queen has proven her victory last week was no fluke!"

Annie rolls out of the ring and snatches up her two title belts, both the United States belt and the newly retained Hardcore belt, slowly walking up the ramp with the two belts, holding them in the air, celebrating with the cheering audience, visible signs of relief clearly written on her face. Meanwhile, inside the ring, an incensed Sigil leans against the ropes, staring out at the ramp, and the victorious Annie.

"Well, it was an impressive debut by the newcomer, Sigil," Stevens continues, "but right now Sigil does not look happy with the outcome of this contest!"

"Why would he be?" Riley asks. "He lost!"

"Well, technically," Stevens corrects, "it'd be listed as a no decision for Sigil, since he wasn't pinned in the match."

"You're going to split hairs with me?" Riley looks incredulous.

Annie finally makes it up to the top of the ramp and the stage area, still showing off her title belts for the ecstatic audience. Suddenly her music is cut off, interrupted by the eerie, haunting sound of a bell tolling.

"What the--?" wonders Riley aloud.

The bell tolls again, echoing through the arena, and without warning, all the lights go out.

"What's going on here?" Stevens demands to know.

For several seconds nothing happens, and the audience begins to get restless. Bobby Riley begins to panic. "Did Stubby forget to pay the light bill or something? What the hell gives?"

The darkness persists a few more moments, and then suddenly the lights return to normal. At first, nothing looks different, but then a collective gasp rises up from the audience as they come to the realization that something terrible has happened.

"Oh, my God," says Stevens. "Riley, take a look at Annie!"

Annie Eclectic is still at the top of the stage, except that she now lies on her back, her body twisted in a bad angle, unconscious and barely breathing. Her face is covered with blood. It is a truly grotesque and horrible sight.

"How the hell did that happen?!" asks a stunned Riley.

The signs point to Sigil, and sure enough, the Endbringer is nowhere to be found.

"We're going to need some medical attention down here, and quick!" says an alarmed Stevens.

It doesn't take long for an emergency medical team to arrive on the stage, and they begin loading Annie Eclectic onto a stretcher. The two Storm commentators are at a loss for words for a long moment, stunned into silence, and it is a long moment before Mark Stevens speaks again.

"Well, I don't think I've seen anything quite like this display, folks," he tells the viewers at home. "Annie Eclectic retains her title, but is laid out, absolutely decimated, at the hands of the newcomer, Sigil. Folks, we've got to go to a break... we'll try to get an update on Annie's condition as soon as possible, and we'll be right back with our main event, here on SWF Storm."

The camera fades out, still trained on the image of Annie Eclectic's limp body being moved onto the stretcher.

November 23, 2002

Returning from a commercial for Home Depot featuring former SWF superstar JD showing people how Home Depot has all their hardcore needs, (‘For all you backyard wrestlers, pick up a weedwhacker. And don’t tell mom and dad!”) SWF storm is back on the air, and it’s almost time for the main event. The cameras cut to the announce table, where Riley and Stevens prepare to discuss this, but neither man gets a word out as familiar music blasts through the arena speakers, that familiar opening riff to ‘Secret Agent Man’ ushering CIA out from the backstage area for the second time tonight.

“Aw, damnit. I thought we saw the last of this half a human being after his match with Orochi, but no!” Riley seems more than a bit agitated by CIA’s emergence, and not surprisingly, Grand Slam seems to disagree with him.

“Come on, Bobby, relax. Nothing wrong with CIA coming out here if he’s got something say. I mean, his match with the former Thoth, now Orochi, earlier, his rivalry with Frost, and his recent run of bad luck, maybe he just needs to get something off his chest. I say let the man speak. And I’ll bet the fans won’t protest his presence.”

Riley shakes his head as the fans cheer for the posing, strutting CIA making his way to the ring, verifying Steven’s words. “He’d have to have a presence for anyone to protest it, Mark. If we’re lucky, at least it’ll be quick.”

Sliding into the ring under the bottom rope, the masked Canadian moves to center ring, spinning in a slow circle while the fans cheer, before signaling for a microphone, which an able ringside attendant quickly tosses to him. Looking out at the crowd, CIA raises his microphone, and finds a camera, so it looks like he is addressing whoever is watching the show. Pointing at the camera, CIA says one thing. “Frost.”

The fans boo aloud, but the patriotic warrior raises his hand to silence them, still looking on into the camera. “It looks like it’s time for me to address a little something, eh? Big bad Frost says he can beat me. Big bad Frost says I can’t beat him. BIG BAD FROST says it’s not over, so he runs in and interferes in my match, laying me out, eh?” The fans boos get worse as CIA speaks, but he ignores them, merely continuing on, now beginning to pace the ring. “I think you’d better listen, Eh, chilly Willy? I beat you, clean, right in the middle of that ring, eh. And I can, and WILL, do it again, anytime. I’ve got an idea, Mr. Early winter. Instead of wracking your tiny brain, and assaulting me at inopportune times, what say you bring the pain, eh?”

Riley sputters with disbelief, taking a moment before he can gather any words. “By the Suicide King, and Tom Flesher, and all else that is holy, did that audacious, moronic little face just challenge Frost to a REMATCH?”

Grand Slam’s voice rings with pride as he speaks up, rather smugly. “I believe he did, Bobby. I’d say he’s just showing the Carnie spirit tonight. Never give in, never back down, and never let anything get in the way of your fun.”

Riley is quick to reply, ‘pfft’ing with disbelief. “And you call getting assaulted by a behemoth like Frost fun?”

“Oh, ummm…. Well, he’s got the typical Carnie guts, too, I guess.”

Indeed, displaying such testicular fortitude as Steven’s seems to think he has, and most likely as much intellectual capacity as Riley is about to accuse him of having, CIA continues, unabated, while the fans cheer his determination. “Oh, and I’m not done, yet, Frosty the snowman. I know you like beating people up, eh, and I wouldn’t be averse to laying a little pounding on you, either. So what say we have ourselves a special match, eh?”

Staring straight into the camera once more, CIA smiles, and the fans buzz with quiet anticipation, wondering just what kind of match the Canadian will come up with.

“This is so exciting, Bobby. What kind of match could CIA have up his sleeve?”

Riley, as always, seems unimpressed with the actions of anyone who likes the fans, and chimes in with his opinion. “You know, that’s the most obvious thing you possibly could have said. He’s just not saying anything to build tension, and besides….”

“Shut the hell up, Riley.”

CIA Smirks, and finally speak up, addressing Frost through the camera, wherever he may be in the backstage. “A Straitjacket match. That’s right, Frost. We’re gonna battle it out, nice and fair, and the loser gets locked in a straitjacket for five minutes of whatever horrible torture his opponent decides to inflict upon him, eh? Now, let’s see what you have to say about…..”

CIA is unceremoniously cutoff by a scorching guitar riff ripping through the house speakers.

"IT'S FROST! Call the paradmedics and the blood bank, 'cause the Carnie clod is going to need them." Riley chortles giddily.

Frost struts out from behind the backstage curtain to his custom made theme song. He's wet from the shower and is wearing a pair of tan slacks with no shirt. He holds a smoldering cigar in his right hand, but does not appear to be smoking it. He walks down the ramp calmly while CIA steels himself in the ring and nods his head knowingly, fully aware that he would draw the big man out.

"CIA has made a challenge to Frost for a straight jacket match, I assume for the coming ppv." Stevens recaps. "We all know that Frost wants to badly get his hands on the Canadian again, but I don't know if he wants to get at him in that way."

Frost pulls himself to the ring apron by the second rope and steps over the top strand to enter the ring. The two men keep a good distance from each other as Frost pulls a microphone out of his pocket. He waits for the fans' chorus of boos to simmer down and then speaks.

"How dare you make challenges to me? Who are you to dictate to me what you want? A straight jacket match? I call all the shots around here and if we're going to have a rematch, it will be on my terms." Frost points down at the ring like he owns it and flares his nostrils like a wild bull.

"Your terms, eh?" CIA replies, almost amused. "Maybe a pillow fight match would be more to your liking, eh?"

The crowd laughs and Frost screams at them red faced.

"CIA is pushing all the buttons." Stevens comments.

"Yeah, but they're all big, red danger buttons." Riley warns.

"You want your puny little straight jacket match, fine" Frost barks out. "But at the ppv I want a little extra guarentee thrown in WHEN I win."

The audience murmmers wondering what it might be. CIA crosses his arms and taps is foot in an 'I'm waiting' gesture.

"You're so buddy buddy with the World Champion, El Luchadore Magnifico" Frost pauses for the surrogate pop the name drop gets. "It was the loss to you that stripped me of my number one contendership to the world title, it will be victory over you that gives it back." Frost reaches his hand out toward CIA and balls it in a fist. "I beat you at the ppv, and if your 'amigo' can hold onto his title, I get an immediate shot at him and the belt on the following Storm."

"Wow! Everyone here in Philly is shocked by that challenge." Mark says breathlessly.

CIA looks to his left at the fans, they cheer a little, he looks to his right, they cheer a little more, then he looks straight down at the canvas. He finally lifts his head and holds up the mic to simply retort. "You're on."

"And I'm sure ELM is shocked by that in the back." Riley states.

The crowd erupts with a roar and Frost smirks at CIA as he turns to go. He puts one mammoth leg over the top rop and CIA holds out his hand for Frost to hold on. "One more thing..."

Frost whips his head around angered, then bemused as to what more the Intelligence Agent would have to say. He reenters the ring and towers over the shorter grappler.

"If I keep beating you, you're going to turn into one big curling stone hanging around my neck. Frankly, I don't want to constantly hear you whining for rematches that you will lose anyway, eh."

"Put up the Gallagher tarps, blood and body parts are going to be flying this way." Bobby ducks under his desk.

"WHEN I win," CIA continues on "I want you to swear that you will leave me alone to go my own way. Also, to change my fortunes around here, I'm thinking of going after the SWF tag team titles. Of course, I need a partner for that, eh. So, while I'm clearing your title request with ELM, why don't you clear with the rest of the roster that I can pick anybody I want to be my partner." CIA jabs Frost in the chest with his finger for added emphasis and the audience pops huge.

"And odd request from CIA..." Mark trails off while shaking his head.

"A smart one really. If he squeaks out another fluke victory, Frost is going to ship him back to the Prime Minister in a body bag. Pussing out is always the best way to go." Riley analyzes.

"Well, it didn't do much for your career." Stevens remarks matter of factly.

Frost looks down at the finger and simply backs away from it. He steps over the top ring rope again to the apron and hops to the floor. He starts up the ring ramp and CIA leans over the ring ropes, wanting to know what's going on. The crowd rumbles slightly, trying to figure what Frost's answer is as he reaches the top of the ramp. He turns around to face the ring as he back through the curtains and bring his microphone up to merely say, "You're on."

CIA's music hits as the big man dissappears into the back. CIA bows to the fans and stretches his arms out to let the two Canadian flag sewn into the sleeves of his jacket dangle free. The fans chant "CIA, CIA."

"Both sides seem to have gotten what they were after in this little confrence of the mega-powers. Next Sunday at the ppv it will be Frost vs. CIA in a straight jacket match!" Stevens clarifies.

"WHEN Frost wins, he recieves a World title shot at ELM if he still has the belt. While if Jesus comes down out of the heavens and CIA takes another tainted win, Frost has to leave him alone and the entire roster is up for grabs as CIA's tag team partner in his quest for the gold."

"A lot riding on the line to be sure," Mark hypes "and a lot more will be on the line in a few minutes with the World Champion El Luchadore Magnifico taking on the cocky and arrogant Tod DeKindes in our main event...NEXT!"

November 23, 2002

SWF Storm fades back in from its last commercial break, immediately segueing into a shot of the inside of The First Union Center. The camera pans around the inside of the packed arena for a few seconds, showcasing the thousands of overexcited fans as Storm’s theme song pounds over the speakers. Suddenly, the fast-paced metal fades out, leaving an eerie silence within the arena. It only lasts a few moments, however, as “Cold” by Static X begins pounding over the arena’s speakers, which motivates the crowd to boo their little hearts out in anticipation. Smoke starts to fill the entrance way as blinding strobe lights fill the arena, and amidst the confusion, Tod calmly walks out from behind the curtain, clad in his trenchcoat and shades.

Funyon: The following non-title contest is scheduled for one fall! Introducing first, from Toronto, Ontario, Canada, weighing in at 225 pounds...Tooooooood deKinnnnnndes!!

deKindes slowly makes his way down the ramp, ignoring every single boo directed at him. Once he reaches the ring, Tod steps onto the apron, before climbing up on the second rope near the ring post, vigorously pointing at his chest with both thumbs and throwing his arms up in the air. In spite of themselves, the fans bathe Tod with flashbulb light, which helps deKindes regain his trademark smirk as he steps off of the rope and climbs into the ring. Tod sheds his trenchcoat and removes his sunglasses, throwing them to the floor as the grumbling ref picks up Tod’s coat.

Stevens: And welcome back to SWF Storm, ladies and gentlemen! If you’re just joining us, well, you’re right on time for our main event, which pits Tod deKindes against El Luchadore Magnifico in a non-title match!

Riley: Oh, of course, non-title. We wouldn’t Magnifico to lose the Championship to anyone worth a crap before the Pay-Per-View, would we?

Stevens: Riley, calm down-

Riley: No! It’s always the same! Magnifico faced Frost in a non-title contest, and Frost beat his ass! Now Tod’s gonna follow suit, and won’t have any championship to speak of for his hard work! It makes me sick!

Tod begins some light stretching in the ring, an irritating smirk still on his face as “Cold” fades out. As soon as Static-X have left the speakers, a Mexican voice suddenly takes their place, shouting “UNO! DOS! TRES! CUATRO!” as a burst of orange pyro shoots upwards from each turnbuckle in conjunction with each shouted word. The fans immediately burst into cheers as “Mission Trip to Mexico” by Bunch of Believers hits the speakers, signaling the entrance for El Luchadore Magnifico. The man himself pops out from behind the curtain a second later, clutching the World Title with one hand and his Mexican flag with the other. Grinning wildly, Magnifico pauses at the top of the ramp and lifts his arms to a stiff forty-five degree angle, posing proudly on the stage.

Funyon: And now, from Mexico City, Mexico, weighing in at 193 pounds, he is the SWF World Heavyweight Champion...El Luchadooooooorre Magnificooooooo!!

Upon hearing his name, ELM breaks the pose and quickly heads down the ramp, slapping fans’ hands as he goes. As he approaches the ring, Magnifico breaks into a sprint, sliding beneath the bottom rope and gliding onto the mat belly-first. ELM glares at Tod for a second, before popping to his feet and hopping onto the second turnbuckle of the nearby corner. Magnifico resumes his flag-waving to the delight of the crowd, but is suddenly cut off when Tod rushes across the ring and slams ELM in the back, attacking him before the start of the match! The fans immediately begin booing as a stunned ELM drops both his flag and the title onto the canvas, while Tod grabs him by the tights and pulls the luchadore off of the turnbuckle. deKindes turns Magnifico around and shoves him into the corner, booting the luchadore in the gut rapidly as the ref tries to break the two up. After a few seconds, the ref is all “Ah, screw it.” and signals for the bell, officially beginning the match.

DING DING DING

Riley: That’s the way to do it! Attack when your opponent least suspects it.

Stevens: How could he have suspected it? The match hadn’t started yet!

Riley: Details, details. All I know is, Tod’s kicking the snot out of Magnifico right now.

True to Riley’s word, Tod continues stomping away at Magnifico’s gut until the luchadore can barely hold himself up in the corner. Finally, deKindes grabs Magnifico by the arm, pulls him out of the corner, and whips the luchadore across the ring, sending him rushing towards the far corner. ELM turns around just before impact to absorb the blow on his back, doing so just in time to see Tod charging towards him! As soon as Magnifico lands in the corner, he throws his foot into the air, driving it directly into Tod’s chin! deKindes grabs his chin and turns away from the luchadore, surprised by the force of the kick. Sensing an opportunity, Magnifico pushes himself out of the corner and charges Tod from behind, only to have deKindes spin towards him and lash out with his arm, slamming it into the luchadore’s neck with a Clothesline! The fans release a surprised OOOH! and boo a little as Magnifico snaps to the ground, hand on his neck as Tod rubs his chin in pain, shaking off the boot to his face. Magnifico tries to quickly get back up, but Tod grabs him by the arm before he can do so, violently jerking the luchadore to his feet. Tod then uses his grip to whip ELM across the ring, sending him rushing towards the far ropes. Magnifico bounces off and runs back towards Tod, and as he approaches, deKindes grabs ELM by the leg and shoulder, using his grip to hoist the luchadore into the air with a Press Slam! But as Tod is hoisting, Magnifico manages to slip out of his grasp, landing on his feet right behind deKindes! Before Tod can spin around to face the luchadore, Magnifico suddenly grabs him around the waist and tries to lift deKindes up for a German Suplex!

Stevens: Magnifico avoided Tod’s Press Slam, and it now looks like he’s ready to drill deKindes with a German Suplex!

ELM starts to lift Tod when deKindes suddenly wraps his foot around the luchadore’s ankle, stopping the lifting process dead in its tracks! Magnifico tries once more, only to have deKindes block the German Suplex again! After the second block, Tod suddenly breaks free of Magnifico’s grip and spins around to his back, immediately pulling the luchadore into a Rear Waistlock as he does so! Before Magnifico has the chance to block, Tod lifts the luchadore into the air with the intention of slamming him into the mat with a German Suplex! But before Tod can do anything of the sort, ELM suddenly leans forward and throws his legs backwards, hooking them beneath Tod’s arms! Magnifico then hits the mat and rolls forward, using his legs to pull deKindes down with him and roll Tod up! A surprised cheer rises from the crowd as the ref slides into position, beginning his count as Tod struggles wildly to escape...

ONE...

TWO-No! Tod kicks out after two and immediately springs to his feet, followed by Magnifico a second later. This extra second gives Tod the time to step towards the luchadore and boot him hard in the gut, immediately doubling Magnifico over as he does so. With ELM doubled over, Tod is easily able to lock him into a Suplex position, before using his grip to lift the luchadore high into the air. After keeping Magnifico suspended for a second or two, Tod suddenly falls forward onto his stomach, slamming ELM’s chest and face into the mat with a Front Suplex! The fans release a small OHHH! as Magnifico lay face-down on the mat, clutching his gut in pain. Tod grabs the luchadore by his shoulder and quickly turns Magnifico onto his back, before covering the luchadore and hooking the leg as the ref slides into position...

ONE...

TWO...No! Magnifico kicks out at two and a half, drawing a few cheers from the crowd.

Riley: That’s what Magnifico gets for trying to use a German Suplex! I mean, it’s practically sacrilegious to try and use a German Suplex on a German guy!

Stevens: Riley, Tod isn’t German. Didn’t you hear Funyon? Tod’s from Toronto.

Riley: He’s WHAT?! I’m so disillusioned! *weeps*

Undaunted, Tod quickly rolls off of Magnifico and stands back up, stomping away at the luchadore as he struggles to get to his feet. ELM manages to get to one knee even through the seemingly endless stomps, but as he does so, Tod grabs him by the arm and jerks the luchadore to his feet. Tod then grabs ELM by the back of the head and leads him over to the nearby corner, before throwing Magnifico’s head forward, slamming it directly into the top turnbuckle! ELM falls into the corner chest-first, his arms hanging over the top rope as Tod locks his fists together and begins pounding away at the luchadore’s neck! The fans immediately express their displeasure as Tod bashes away at ELM’s neck, drawing a small cry of pain from the luchadore with each shot. After landing about ten blows, Tod grabs Magnifico around the waist and slowly lifts him into the air, before sitting the luchadore on the second turnbuckle. As ELM sits on the second rope, dazed, Tod reaches up and wraps his arm around the luchadore’s neck, setting him up for a Second Rope Reverse Neckbreaker! Tod jerks on Magnifico’s neck, trying to pull him off of the ropes, but is blocked when ELM suddenly grabs the top rope, refusing to be dragged off the ropes! Tod pulls with all his might, but Magnifico refuses to relinquish his grip, making it impossible for deKindes to pull him off! Apparently realizing this fact, Tod suddenly releases Magnifico’s neck and spins around to face the luchadore, bashing him on the back as he does so! With ELM slightly stunned from the blow, Tod is able to climb up onto the second rope behind Magnifico, careful to keep his balance as he does so. deKindes then slaps on a Rear Waistlock and sticks his head beneath Magnifico’s arm, setting him up for a Backdrop Suplex! However, as soon as Tod sets Magnifico up, the luchadore suddenly throws his elbow backwards, driving it into deKindes’ head! ELM begins rapidly throwing elbows at Tod, until a stunned deKindes falls backwards off of the second rope! Tod lands flat on his back on the mat, shaking the ring with his impact as the fans cheer excitedly. As Tod cradles his head in pain, ELM climbs up onto the top turnbuckle, which only makes the cheering in the arena louder.

Stevens: Tod made a mistake trying to land two big moves this early in the match, and could pay for that mistake right now!

Riley: Always placing blame, aren’t you Stevens? Well, maybe Tod wouldn’t have had this “mistake” if Magnifico had been a little more willing to work with him!

Stevens: Does it bother you in the slightest that you break kayfabe every two minutes?

Riley: Kay what now?

Magnifico crouches on the top turnbuckle for a moment before slowly standing up, facing the cheering crowd as he does so. ELM looks back for a second to make sure that Tod hasn't moved...before leaping backwards off of the top turnbuckle, flipping as he does so and crashing towards Tod with a Moonsault! Thousands of flashbulbs light up the inside of the arena, capturing the moment forever as Tod rolls to the side, getting out of the way with Magnifico still in mid-air! However, ELM manages to flip just a little more, landing on his feet as Tod is climbing back to his! As soon as deKindes sees Magnifico in front of him, he charges at the luchadore, only to receive a boot to the gut for his troubles! With Tod doubled over, ELM quickly pulls him into a Suplex position, much to the delight of the crowd! Magnifico then slowly lifts Tod into the air, holding him perpendicular to the ground...before falling onto his back, pulling Tod down with him and driving his skull into the canvas with a Brainbuster! The fans release a roar of a pop as ELM rolls onto Tod, hooking his leg as the ref slides into position…

ONE…

TWO…No! Tod kicks out at two and a half, promptly ending most of the cheering.

Stevens: Ouch! Tod avoids Magnifico’s Moonsault, only to eat a Brainbuster seconds later!

Magnifico quickly rolls off of Tod and gets back to his feet. ELM delivers a few stomps to Tod’s chest, then suddenly turns around, facing away from deKindes. Magnifico crouches forward before jumping into the air and flipping backwards, falling on Tod’s gut with a Standing Moonsault! deKindes clutches his gut and doubles over in pain as Magnifico quickly gets back to his feet. ELM reaches down, grabs Tod by the arm, and begins pulling him to his feet, when deKindes suddenly reaches up and rakes his fingers across the luchadore’s face! Magnifico puts his hands over his face and turns away from Tod, who stands up as the ref and the fans berate him. Ignoring them both, deKindes comes up behind the luchadore, grabs him by the shoulder, and spins Magnifico around to face him. Tod unloads with a hard right aimed at Magnifico’s head, only to have the luchadore block it and counter with a right of his own! Tod’s head snaps back from the impact, but he throws another right regardless, only to be blocked and countered once again! The fans cheer excitedly as Magnifico begins bashing away at Tod’s face, landing a series of quick punches, slowly backing Tod across the ring as he does so. However, in the middle of this assault, deKindes suddenly thrusts his fingers forward and pokes Magnifico in the eyes, temporarily blinding the luchadore and drawing another wave of boos from the audience! Gritting his teeth, Tod grabs the distracted luchadore by the tights and hair, then turns towards the furthest ropes and begins running towards them, pulling Magnifico with him! As Tod approaches the ropes, he throws Magnifico forward, hurtling the luchadore through the ring ropes and to the outside! The fans wince at first and then boo like crazy as Magnifico crashes face-first to the floor, creating a sickening THUD! as he does so. Inside the ring, Tod grins to himself and plays to the crowd, who only boo him more.

Riley: And Tod takes a tactical advantage, stopping Magnifico’s brutish assault and throwing him out of the ring!

Stevens: Tactical advantage?! He poked him! In the eye!

ELM begins to slowly climb back to his feet on the outside, holding his head in pain and shaking off of the impact of his fall. When Tod sees this, he turns around and make a break for the ropes furthest from the luchadore. Tod bounces off of the ropes and rushes back towards the luchadore, and as he approaches, deKindes suddenly leaps into the air, soaring over the top rope with a Plancha! Thousands of flashbulbs go off, lighting up the inside of the arena as Tod crashes into Magnifico, sending both men tumbling to the floor! The fans cheer in spite of themselves as Magnifico and Tod lay motionless on the outside, apparently not spurred by the ref’s starting of the count-out.

Riley: Whooo! Absolutely beautiful Plancha from Tod deKindes! That’ll show Magnifico who’s the REAL high-flyer in this match!

The ref slowly reaches two in his count, shouting out the number and throwing his hands into the air to signify that fact. It isn’t until he reaches three that Tod begins to stir and push himself to his feet. At about five, Tod slowly stands up, shaking off the impact he felt when he crashed into Magnifico. deKindes, upon hearing the ref’s count, turns to Magnifico and grabs him by the arm, pulling the luchadore to his feet at seven and rolling him into the ring a second later. Tod rolls in after the luchadore and immediately covers him, hooking Magnifico’s leg as the ref slides into position...

ONE...

TWO...No! Magnifico gets a shoulder up at two and a half, drawing a cheer from the crowd. Looking just a wee bit frustrated, Tod rolls off of the luchadore and slowly pushes himself back to his feet. Upon standing, deKindes suddenly leaps into the air, sticking out his legs as he does so! As Tod falls, he drops his right leg directly onto Magnifico’s neck, crushing it with a Leg Drop! ELM clutches his throat and chokes for breath as Tod quickly gets back to his feet, a smile coming over his face as the boos float in from the crowd.

Stevens: Tod is going right back to work on Magnifico’s neck, which is a good strategy considering that both of Tod’s finishers are focused on it.

Riley: Aw, c’mon, Stevens! If you’re gonna give praise to the bad guy, at least do it with a little gusto! Otherwise, leave it to me!

Stevens: Oh, by all means, Bobbi. Nobody can mindlessly kiss ass like you do.

Riley: Damn straight! Wait, what?

Tod grabs Magnifico by the arm and begins pulling him to his feet, ELM still struggling to breath as he stands. deKindes then uses his grip to whip Magnifico across the ring, sending him rushing towards the far ropes. ELM bounces off of the ropes and runs back towards Tod, and as he approaches, deKindes grabs the luchadore by the leg and arm and lifts him into the air! As soon as Tod lifts Magnifico, however, he suddenly spins around and falls to the mat, slamming ELM directly into the canvas with a Powerslam! Another round of boos come from the audience as Tod immediately covers Magnifico, hooking the leg as the ref slides into position and begins counting...

ONE...

TWO...No! Magnifico gets a shoulder up at two and a half, drawing a few cheers from the crowd. Looking a bit more frustrated than before, Tod rolls off of the luchadore, grabs him by his hair, and then stands up, dragging Magnifico to his feet with him. Once ELM is standing, Tod suddenly throws his boot into the luchadore’s gut, doubling him over in the center of the ring. deKindes then pulls Magnifico into a Front Headlock, apparently setting the luchadore up for a DDT! But before he can do so, ELM suddenly breaks into a run, charging directly at the corner in front of him and pushing Tod forward like a psychotic bulldozer! Mr. deKindes’ wild ride comes to an end when his back is slammed directly into the corner, forcing Tod to arch his body in pain and cry out upon impact. Magnifico pulls his head out from under Tod’s arm and stands up straight. ELM then rears his arm back sideways before driving it forward, smacking his hand into Tod’s chest with a Knife-Edge Chop! The WHOOO! that emanates from the crowd is challenged only by the ungodly SMACK! that echoes off of Tod’s chest. Magnifico rears back once more and...CHOP! SMACK! WHOOOO!

Stevens: WHOOO!!

Riley: Dammit, you’re just as bad as all these idiotic marks!

Stevens: Hey, it’s better than being bitter and sexually ambiguous.

Riley: Is not!

Tod puts a hand on his now-stinging chest, only to have Magnifico grab it and pull deKindes out of the corner. ELM then uses his grip to try and whip deKindes, only to have Tod reverse it and send Magnifico rushing towards the far corner! The second Tod releases Magnifico, he charges after him, looking to catch the luchadore by surprise as he lands! deKindes does just that, as ELM spins around and lands back-first in the corner, just in time to see Tod bearing down on him! As he approaches, Tod bows his head, throwing it directly into Magnifico’s gut with a Spear! The fans OOOOH! as deKindes stands up and quickly backs away, allowing ELM to stumble out of the corner, a hand on his gut. Unfortunately for Magnifico, he stumbles right into Tod, who hooks both of ELM’s arms Underhook style and pulls the luchadore towards him for a Underhook Belly-to-Belly Suplex! Tod immediately falls backwards, throwing ELM over his head as he does so and slamming him into the mat with the Suplex! The fans OOOH! in unison as Magnifico arches his back in pain, providing little resistance as Tod rolls onto him, making the cover as the ref slides into position...

ONE...

TWO...No! Magnifico gets a shoulder up at two and a half, drawing a few hopeful cheers from the crowd.

Stevens: It looked like Magnifico had something going for a second, but Tod quickly cut that off with his trademark Spear and Underhook Belly-to-Belly Suplex combo!

Riley: ELM didn’t have “anything going”! He just landed two crappy chops and got his whip reversed! The dirty Mexican deserved Tod’s awesome assault after that embarrassing display of offense!

Stevens: Dammit, do you ever shut up?!

Tod pushes himself off of Magnifico and shoots a dirty look at the ref, who simply confirms his call in retaliation. deKindes rolls his eyes and stands up, grabbing Magnifico by the arm and pulling him to his feet as he does so. Once ELM is standing, Tod steps next to him, standing perpendicular to the luchadore. Tod then grabs Magnifico by the leg and neck, bends over, and pulls ELM onto his shoulders, standing as he does so and setting ELM up for a Death Valley Driver! But before Tod has a chance to land the move, Magnifico manages to slip out of his grip, falling off of Tod’s shoulders and landing on his feet right behind deKindes! As soon as he lands, Magnifico reaches up and wraps his right arm around Tod’s neck, trapping him in a Reverse Headlock! Not wasting a second, ELM immediately falls onto his stomach with Tod in tow, driving the back of deKindes’ head and neck into the canvas with a Falling Reverse DDT! The fans release an excited cheer as Magnifico rolls onto Tod right after the DDT, making the cover as the ref slides into position...

ONE...

TWO...No! Tod kicks out at two and a half, silencing most of the cheers in the crowd.

Stevens: Seamless reversal from Magnifico, countering the Death Valley Driver into a Falling Reverse DDT!

ELM rolls off of Tod and lays on the mat for a second, a bit exhausted from the beating Tod gave him earlier. After a little while, Magnifico begins pushing himself back to his feet, followed by deKindes a second later. ELM stands up as deKindes reaches one knee, and as he does so, Magnifico grabs Tod by the arm and jerks him to his feet. ELM then uses his grip to whip deKindes towards the ropes, which he bounces off of before rushing back towards Magnifico. As Tod approaches, ELM leaps into the air and extends his legs, wrapping them around Tod’s neck for a Hurricanrana! But as ELM hooks his legs, Tod suddenly reaches up and grabs Magnifico by the waist, stranding him in a Powerbomb-like position! ELM immediately realizes the position he’s in and begins bashing away at Tod’s face, stunning Tod with the quick blows! After landing about ten punches, Magnifico suddenly spins around on Tod’s shoulders so that he’s facing the same direction as deKindes! This proves to be a mistake for Magnifico, however, as Tod shifts his grip to ELM’s legs, using his grip to lift Magnifico off of his shoulders! Tod then drives Magnifico forward, sitting as he does so and slamming ELM face-first into the canvas with an Electric Chair Drop! The fans OOOOH! in unison before releasing a wave of boos, as ELM lays face-down on the mat, motionless. Tod grabs Magnifico by the shoulder and slowly turns him onto his back, before falling onto the luchadore for the cover. The ref slides into position and begins counting as the booing only grows louder...

ONE...

TWO...

THR-Nooo! Magnifico gets a shoulder up right before three, drawing a mighty cheer from the relieved fans!

Stevens: No! Tod nails ELM with a vicious Electric Chair Drop, but Magnifico just barely manages to kick out!

Riley: That’s what Magnifico gets for doing all that crappy flip-flop offense! He was simply mocking Tod with that stupid Hurricanrana!

Stevens: And, of course, it’s because of that “crappy” offense that Magnifico is not the SWF World Champion. Oh, wait a minute...

Riley: Shut up! Screw you!

Tod slowly pushes himself off of Magnifico and turns towards the ref, looking quite miffed that he didn’t get the three count just then. deKindes shouts angrily at the referee, insisting that he got the pin, but the ref adamantly defends his decision, not allowing the bad-tempered Canadian to convince him otherwise. Tod curses loudly and turns away from the ref, before slowly pushing himself back to his feet. deKindes stands behind Magnifico, shouting incoherently at ELM and signaling for him to get up. ELM unwittingly follows Tod’s command as he slowly begins pushing himself to his feet, obviously still dazed from the Electric Chair Drop. Finally, Magnifico manages to push himself to his feet, unaware of Tod’s presence behind him. He soon becomes aware, however, as deKindes suddenly comes up from behind the luchadore and locks him into a Full Nelson! Tod begins to lift Magnifico in the air for a Dragon Suplex, when ELM suddenly throws his foot back and wraps it around deKindes’ ankle, effectively blocking the lifting process! Before Tod can make another attempt, Magnifico suddenly throws his foot backwards, driving it between Tod’s legs with a Low Blow! Tod immediately releases his grip and doubles over in pain as the fans cheer for Magnifico’s escape. The ref berates Magnifico for the blatant illegal move, but ELM pays him no mind. Instead, he turns towards Tod and kicks him directly in the chin, snapping him upwards and forcing deKindes to stand up straight! Magnifico then grabs Tod by the arm and begins to spin around, looking to lock it in a Half Chickenwing for Montezuma’s Revenge! But as ELM spins away from Tod, the Canadian suddenly breaks his arm free! Tod thrusts his left arm beneath Magnifico’s left arm, while snaking his right arm over ELM’s right shoulder! deKindes then interlocks his hands and pulls his arms backwards, choking the life out of Magnifico with the Silent Scream!!

Riley: Yes! Yes! ELM thought he could escape from Tod, but just ended up in the Silent Scream!

Stevens: That’s certainly true, Riley! And who knows how long Magnifico can last under the suffocating power of the Silent Scream?

The fans OHHHH! in unison as ELM flails his arms wildly, desperately trying to escape the Silent Scream! However, Magnifico’s arm-flailing technique proves to be ineffective, as Tod refuses to release the stranglehold! ELM begins to visibly wear down, as his resistance seems to grow weaker and weaker as the sick grin on Tod’s face grows wider and wider. Sensing a kill, deKindes begins pulling Magnifico downwards, intent on dragging ELM down to the mat to ensure a submission! But as Tod starts pulling, ELM suddenly snaps to attention, refusing to be taken down! Still in the submission, Magnifico turns towards the nearby turnbuckle and begins running towards it, practically dragging Tod behind him! ELM runs up the corner’s turnbuckles and springs backwards off of the top, falling right into Tod! Both men fall onto their backs, with Magnifico, still in the submission, on Tod, and Tod on the mat! Seeing deKindes’ shoulders on the mat, the ref slides into position and begins counting, much to the delight of the crowd...

ONE...

TWO...

THR-Nooo!! Tod releases the Silent Scream and rolls off his shoulders just before the three count, drawing a disappointed OHHH! from the crowd!

Stevens: Whoa!! Magnifico with a brilliant reversal to the Silent Scream, which would have finished deKindes has he not released the Submission!

A severely pissed off Tod quickly gets back to his feet, gritting his teeth as he looks down on the motionless luchadore. deKindes begins stomping away wildly at Magnifico, laying in the boots as the luchadore takes the damage without any resistance. After about ten stomps, Tod turns away from Magnifico and heads over to the nearby corner, quickly scaling its turnbuckles as the fans begin to boo. Within seconds, deKindes is crouching on the top rope, facing away from the crowd and looking down on Magnifico with untold anger. Slowly, Tod stands up straight on the top turnbuckle…and then leaps off, extending his elbow in mid-air for a Flying Elbow Drop! Thousands of cameras forever capture the image of Magnifico rolling to the side, barely avoiding deKindes as he crashes elbow-first into the mat! The fans release a relieved pop as both men lay side-by-side on the mat, Tod gripping his elbow and Magnifico cradling his neck.

Riley: Ah, crap, what is Magnifico doing! Tod was just about to finish his ass with the Flying Elbow Drop!

Stevens: Well, ya see Riley, in a wrestling match, the competitors would like to WIN. Allowing yourself to be hit by Flying Elbow Drops causes you to LOSE. Understand?

Riley: Um…yes?

Stevens: Good.

As the ref begins to count both men down, the fans start clapping in unison, starting slow and first and then growing faster and faster in support of Magnifico. As the clapping reaches its peak, both men begin struggling to their feet, dazed by their respective injuries. After much struggling, Tod finally stands up, followed by Magnifico a half second later. deKindes steps towards the luchadore and throws a sloppy punch which connects with his opponent’s jaw, only to have Magnifico snap right back with a punch of his own! Tod pauses for a moment, stunned by the blow, before throwing another punch, only to have it blocked by Magnifico! ELM counters with a punch of his own, beginning a quick set of jabs that bashes away at Tod’s face while getting the crowd incredibly excited! After landing a good ten punches, Magnifico grabs Tod by the arm and tries to whip him, only to have deKindes reverse it into a whip of his own, sending ELM rushing towards the far ropes! Magnifico bounces off and runs back towards Tod, and as he approaches, deKindes greets the luchadore with a kick to the gut, doubling him over in the center of the ring! Wasting no time, Tod then steps around to Magnifico’s side, then grabs ELM’s arm and pulls it up as if for an Abdominal Stretch! Tod isn’t quite finished, however, as he uses his grip to slowly lift Magnifico into the air and onto his shoulder, completing the setup for the German Wet Dream Machine!

Stevens: Oh my God! Tod is about to give Magnifico the German Wet Dream Machine-

Riley: David Hasslehoff?? Where?!

Stevens: …I hate you.

The fans immediately begin to boo, but their minds are quickly changed when Magnifico suddenly slips off of Tod’s shoulders, landing on his feet behind the Canadian! As soon as he lands, ELM spins around so that he’s back-to-back with deKindes, and then hooks Tod’s arms as if for a Backslide! The fans, knowing what’s coming next, cheer like crazy as Magnifico rushes towards the nearby corner with Tod in tow! ELM runs up the corners turnbuckles and springs backwards off of the top, flipping over Tod’s head and landing on his knees to drive deKindes’ head into the mat with a Baja California Crusher!! A massive pop rises from the rafters as Magnifico remains on his knees, severely exhausted as he towers over the motionless deKindes.

Stevens: He hit it!! Magnifico reverses the German Wet Dream Machine into a Baja California Crusher!

After a few seconds, ELM grabs Tod’s shoulder and slowly turns him onto his stomach, and then drapes himself over deKindes’ body for the cover! The fans cheer louder than ever as the ref slides into position and begins counting…

ONE…

TWO…

THREEEE!! The ref springs to his feet and signals for the bell, which is nearly drowned out by the resulting cheers.

DING DING DING

Funyon: Your winner, by pinfall, El Luchadooooooore Magnificooooooo!!

Stevens: What a match! Tod beats Magnifico post-to-post, only to have ELM sneak out a victory with a quick Crusher!

Riley: *sigh* And I didn’t even get to meet Hasslehoff.

Stevens: While Riley fantasizes about German male supermodels, I’d like to wish you all a good night, and thank you for tuning into Storm! Good night!

The final image broadcasted is El Luchadore Magnifico, rolling off of Tod with a triumphant smile on his face…

November 23, 2002

You want results? No! Read the show! Then comment on it, since you've read it already!

SWF STORM, Nov 22nd!

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