SWF Ashes to Ashes 2002!

December 2, 2002

[The arena is completely dark.

Suddenly several huge pyros erupt from the stage, illuminating the towering Ashes to Ashes set. A few seconds later the lights return and tons of black and white confetti is shot out over the jacked up crowd.

We cut to the announcer's table...]

Mark Stevens - Welcome to the latest SWF pay per view extravaganza, Ashes to Ashes 2002!

Bobby Riley - Say, what's the theme music for this PPV?

Stevens - Hmmm...I dunno'. Doesn't matter, who needs it?

Riley - Oooo...I'll make one up myself! Okay uhhh *doo, doo, doo-doo, doo doo doo-doo*...

Stevens - That's just the old Batman theme!

Riley - I thought it was familar! *Doo, doo, doo-doo, doo, doo doo-doo*...

Stevens - Shut up or we'll be sued by Adam West!

Riley - Holy courtroom Stevens!

Stevens - Well, anyays folks...on with the show...

December 2, 2002

SINGLES MATCH

Ced Ordonez vs. Mak Francis

- Opening match madness! Who will prevail, in this battle of staggering proportions? Which Titan will emerge supreme?! Who dammit, who?!

NO-DQ MATCH FOR THE HARDCORE TITLE #1 CONTENDERSHIP

Ash Ketchum vs. Sigil

- Ketchum and Sigil haven’t got along since the very first day Sigil showed up in the SWF. Since then there’s been threats, attacks and they’ve been involved in a 3-way match together. On Sunday we’ll have a 1-on-1 match for the first time between these two.

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

STRAIGHTJACKET MATCH

CIA vs. Frost

- A few weeks ago Frost beat Magnifico in a non-title match, but has been unable to get a title match against the luchadore as the champs friend, CIA, has been keeping him very busy. At Ashes to Ashes CIA and Frost will be involved in a straightjacket match and if Frost wins he gets a shot at the heavyweight title and if CIA wins, he and a partner of his choice get a shot at the SWF tag titles!

Match Description – DQ and count-out rules are in effect. After someone wins the match via pinfalls, submission or knockout, the loser is placed in a straightjacket and the winner gets to beat on him for 5 minutes.

3-WAY ELIMINATION MATCH FOR THE ICTV #1 CONTDERSHIP

Alex Zenon vs. Tod deKindes vs. ?

- The recently returned Alex Zenon (Z), Tod deKindes (who did surprisingly well in a match against Magnifico on Strom) and a 3rd mystery opponent will face off, with a shot at the SWF’s second highest belt on the line!

Match Description – DQ and count-out rules are in effect. The first person eliminated via pinfall, submission or knockout must leave ringside while the remaining two men fight to determine the winner.

US TITLE MATCH

Annie Eclectic © vs. Danny Williams

- On Storm Tom Flesher kicked Annie out of M7, then had Danny Williams beat her silly with a microphone. This Sunday the two will face each other in a match with the US title on the line!

ICTV TITLE MATCH

Tom Flesher © vs. Orochi

- A rivalry between Thoth and Tom Flesher had been steadily building over a couple weeks, ultimately leading up to an ICTV title match. Thoth lost that match, but that didn’t end the rivalry. Thoth has a new name and a new heelish attitude and he’ll see if the second time’s the charm against Flesher…

SWF HEAVYWEIGHT TITLE MATCH

El Luchadore Magnifico © vs. ?

- Sacred backed out of his scheduled rematch against Magnifico, so in the spirit of competition, Magnifico challenged the man behind the mysterious “He is returning” videos. Despite Stubby’s opposition to the match, Magnifico went over his head (but how can you go over God’s head?) and got it booked anyways, so it’s Magnifico vs. the question mark, this Sunday!

December 2, 2002

First there is nothing…

Then a voice…

“When asked the question of truths that are known, two things in life are certain. In the beginning, all things live… gaining air into their lungs from every breath they take.”

A pause…

“And in the end all things die. Moving closer to death as each breath they take leaves them with one less to use.”

“ASHES to ASHES!”

“…dust to dust…”

The normal light of television screens world wide flashes quickly and quietly into an empty darkness…

PAP-PAP-PAP-PAP-PAP!

BANG! BANG! BANG!

FWIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIISH – BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!

And then there is light at The Frank Erwin center in Austin, Texas! The camera pans the rabid crowd of Texans taking in the sights and sounds of an audience ready to see SWF action at its best! Many crazy and spectacular signs are held by fanatic searching for there fifteen seconds of fame… but the camera completes its crowd gazing and focuses in on the announcer booth. Grand Slam Mark Stevens sits in a quality white dress shirt, his suit jacket already taken off, wearing a Texas Rangers red ball cap and Bobby Riley tugs at the lapels of his tailor made silk suit.

“HELLO and WELCOME TO SWF ASHES TO ASHES 2002!”

“Nice opening by the by Grand Shill. It really grabbed me by the balls…” Mentions Bobby, while his hands suspiciously have yet to be seen, assumedly under the table…

“Too much information Bobby.” Replies a disgusted Grand Slam. “WAY too much!”

Riley’s eyes quickly dart to and froe, as his hands suddenly appear on the desk. Stevens just shakes his head, something which is sure to be seen many times throughout the course of this night. *cough* “Anyways…” mumbles Stevens. “We are live from the Frank Erwin center here in Austin, Texas! And one has to wonder just WHO will be the opponent of El Luchadore Magnifico for the SWF World title!”

“WYS huh… It’s so easy and I could spoil it but I don’t want the marks to throw a fit…”

“You don’t know who it is either, do you Bobby?”

“I plead the fifth!”

“BOBBY, are you the person that’s coming back?!”

“NO!”

“Well then, how can you plead self incrimination?”

“Because…” Bobby quickly points behind Stevens. “LOOK OVER THERE…”

Mark head turns and then realizes just who he is talking to.

“… Sucker.”

“Enough Bobby! We are also bringing you Tom Flesher vs. Orochi and Annie Eclectic vs. Danny Williams for the ICTV and US Titles respectively.”

“Yeah, the Magnificent Seven is going to clean up tonight with Tom keeping his gold and Danny getting his first!”

“Add to that the returning Alex Zenon vs. Tod deKindes vs. the second mystery man or women of the night and CIA vs. Frost in a Straightjacket match of all things-“

“Suddenly I feel the urge to scream puppies and drop banana peels on the ground for CIA to trip over…”

“And a NO-DQ match for the number one contender to the Hardcore title between Ash Ketchum and Sigil!” After that statement Mark pauses for a brief moment and clears his throat. “But first we bring you the opening match of our Pay-Per-View! Ced Ordonez vs. Mak Francis!!”

“Ugh… What the hell, it’s the guy Frost put on the job train against the guy Tom put on the job train.”

Mark just no sells Bobby. That’s number one of the night… “Two men brought together by the man once known as Thoth and then traitored. They hold no ill will against each other but they’re out here to entertain the fans to the best of their abilities!”

“Dammit there should be some ill will!” Yells Riley, pounding his hands on the table. “I want blood, I WANT carnage, and I ESPECIALLY WANT SOME BROKEN NECKS! Bring back Edwin!!”

“Please shut your mouth for once Bobby!”

Suddenly “Esaka?" plays over the PA system and the Texas crowd jumps to their feet , as the lights dim and CED appears at the entranceway, a purple towel draped over his head! Funyon dressed in a nice pinstripe brings a mic to his lips and…

“This contest is scheduled for ONE FALLLLLL!”

A spotlight shines down on the tanned Filipino as he quickly surveys the crowd before throwing the towel into the audience and jogging down the aisle. The DDR master slides into the ring and salutes the crowd before going and stretching in his corner.

“First from Sacramento, CA and weighing in at two hundred and three pounds… CED ORDONEZzzzzzz!”

”Recently, both Ced and his opponent slash tag team partner, Mak Francis have hit a losing streak of sorts. Maybe getting back on the winning track is what one of them needs to pull their team back up to Tag Title status.” Comments Stevens.

“It’d be better if they just gave up and jobbed out! Francis had some potential but he turned all noble, talking about respect.”

“Well Ced seems to be all about respect as well which makes them a quality tag team. They are underrated for a team that just missed a chance at holding the titles.”

** Are you ready? **

** Are You Ready?! **

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

The Smarktron flashes the words 'The Franchise' and that's followed by a blue and white photonegative image of Mak Francis.

“And his opponent, from Philadelphia, PA… weighing in at two hundred and twenty five pounds, “The Franchise” MAAAK FRAAANCISsssssss!”

Then the lights come back up and 'The Franchise' comes out onto the stage. He slowly strolls down to ringside and enters through the middle ropes. Francis then poses in the center of the ring with both his hands raised in the air.

“Well Francis looks as confident as ever and since both men need a win I’m sure they’ll give it their all.”

“But their all isn’t good enough… If Francis wants respect he should just get back to what got him where he is today… cheating and winning titles, I’d respect him again.”

“But your opinion means nothing Bobby. Ced Ordonez versus “The Franchise” Mak Francis it should be a great one!”

As today’s referee Matt White asks for the bell, Ced moves out of the corner and the two begin to circle.

DING! DING! DING!

Once Ced turns the circle, the Franchise’s walk quickens in pace before he side shuffles once and lunges out for a single leg takedown. Ordonez is one step ahead of him though and ends up just out of Mak’s reach. Francis slides up off his knee and continues circling. Ced finally stops and the two partners collide in a collar and elbow tie up! Mak, holding the size and strength advantage, bullies Ced into a side headlock. Ordonez looks for a route of escape but as Francis feels Ced shift some, he releases the headlock and spins counterclockwise behind his opponent ending in a back waist lock! Ordonez pries at the Franchise’s fingers, while Mak hoists him up in the air – but Ced laces his foot around Francis’s leg effectively blocking the go behind takedown attempt!

“Nice counter by Ced…”

After he lands back on the ground, Ced scores a back elbow that stuns his opponent! A second elbow to the ear breaks the waist lock and Ordonez follows up quickly grabbing Mak’s hand and pulling him forward in an Irish whip – but Francis reverses sending the other half of his tag team towards the far ropes.

“And an Irish whip gets reversed. Francis bends over looking for a back body drop, but Ordonez jumps and rolls over Mak’s back. Ced comes of the far ropes and hits a flying cross body block! Here’s the cover…”

Matt White jumps into position counting Ced’s lateral press…

ONE

T-

And only a quick one count as Francis easily gets the shoulder up.

“Ugh, come on jobbers! Somebody start bringing the pain!”

Ced and Mak get back up to their feet and Francis moves forward attempting another collar and elbow tie up – but Ordonez snaps off a side kick to the rib cage, which Mak absorbs. The kick was quick but not quick enough to stop Francis from being able to pin the right leg to his side! As Ced hops up and down on his left leg, Francis looks ready to sweep out the other one or possibly even use a dragon screw leg whip and put Ordonez on his back – but Ced rotates his left leg while he jumps for an Enzigiri. Francis knowing his partners moves sees the back brain kick, out of the corner of his eyes and deftly avoids the strike by ducking causing his opponent to hit the mat!

“Francis’s strategy is easy to spot so far Bobby. He’s trying to get Ordonez on the mat where all his striking ability doesn’t matter.”

“Good for him Mark.”

“Weren’t you the guy championing Francis’s technical abilities when he first got bumped?”

“I was but… until he realizes his roots I won’t have his back.”

“I don’t think anyone wants you behind them Bobby.”

With Ced on the mat face first, Mak pulls his left leg up into the air and with a sudden jerk deposits his knee back into the canvas! The crowd sits pretty quiet awaiting more action as Mak quickly parley’s that into a single leg crab pulling on the leg!

“And part two of his strategy seems to involve stopping Ced from hitting his viscous kicks.”

“Your just a wealth of obvious information tonight MARK.” Adds Riley, taunting his counterpart. “All Ced does is KICK for Christ’s sake! So he’ll work on the leg and try for the figure four. Then probably do one of the following things. Dump Ced on his head, hit the Frog Splash or do a combination of the two!”

Before Francis could really get the half crab snitched in Ordonez crawls over to the ropes latching on and giving White the chance to break the hold. With each count he raises a finger to help inform everyone.

“ONE” starts Matt White as Mak continues to pull on the leg.

“TWO” continues White as Francis gets a good grip on the purple knee pad of Ordonez.

“THREE” states the referee but Mak just keeps on pulling the knee pad for extra leverage.

“FOUR” shouts White as Ced’s pad is now almost at his ankle. Francis switches from the pad to holding the knee surprisingly not letting go.

“FIVE! BREAK FRANCIS!” Yells White getting ready to physically break the hold. Mak quickly lets the leg drop and backs away at the referees order while Ced gets up to his feet. Ordonez pulls the knee pad back into place and shakes out his leg, while the Franchise pats his shoulders.

“Mak Francis used all of White’s five count to his advantage.” Informs Mark Stevens but Riley has to always put his two cents in. “NO really MARK?!”

“Riley…” Is all that needs to be said as Stevens has that look that says “I just know I’m going to hurt him by the end of this night.”.”

This time Ced and Mak actually coming together in the collar and elbow tie up, jockeying for position – but Francis’s technical prowess allows him to drop to one knee and shift Ced’s weight onto his shoulders before swinging him overhead and towards the mat back first.

The fireman’s carry takedown surprises Ordonez, but he readjusts and laces his arm with Mak’s before whipping him over onto his back and half way across the ring!

“JESUS, an arm drag out of a Fireman’s carry! What an innovative counter from Ced!!”

“Pfft, I could have done that in my sleep.”

The Franchise jumps up to his feet in a hurry and sprints across the ring only to get his arm laced with Ced’s again in a second arm drag! The main difference is this time Ordonez slaps on a kneeling arm bar. After Francis regains his bearings, he pushes himself up out of the sitting position and rises up to his feet. Meanwhile a few people in the crowd have started up a “Franchise” chant that the DDR master cuts off by quickly transitions the arm bar into an arm wringer, which stuns Francis and keeps Ced in control. Ordonez yanks down on Mak’s arm and spins again with a second arm wringer – but this time Francis executes a brief roll into a headstand flip and end up in control with his own arm wringer!

“Nice back and forth action from the two tag partners.”

“I still love that counter by the way Mark.”

But as he completes the spin Mak comes face to face with Ced’s elbow!

*Crack!*

And two forearms follows up the abusive elbow, finding its mark, which is Mak face! The DDR master, now in control pulls Francis by the arm and Irish whips him – but the Franchise plants his feet and reverses sending Ced into the ropes. Upon his return, Ordonez ducks a back elbow attempt and rides the ropes for a second time! Ced flies in towards Mak, and Francis quickly snags his running opponent in a gut wrench, twirling him upside down right before he quickly snaps him onto his bended knee and then shoves him off in a heap!!

“A quick and dirty Tilt-a-whirl Backbreaker puts the Franchise back in control of this match up!”

“Man that looked nasty Stevens!” Mentions Bobby Riley, while clasping his hands together. “That’s the kind of stuff I want to see out of Mak Francis! It’s what made him Franchisable in the first place!”

“Mak REALLY put some torque on that tilt-a-whirl, which helps intensify the impact!”

“So more speed equals more impact…” Muses Riley. “You don’t say Grand Master of the Obvious?”

“Actually I thought I did say that.” Quips Mark shutting Riley up for the moment with *gasp* actually logical comments.

As Ordonez arches his back in pain, Mak latches onto Ced’s right leg and lays an elbow drop right on the crook of the left knee! Francis stands back up as Ced tries to push him off and scores another elbow drop, softening him up. After the elbow drop, the Franchise stands up and drops the left leg opting for the right one, before slowly twisting counterclockwise to shape Ordonez’s leg into a four!!

“WHY THE HELL DID HE SWITCH LEGS!”

“Francis going for that Figure four and he… *cough-Bobby-cough* unlike most people actually knows which leg he’s working on as the extended knee is where all the pressure is placed.”

BUT as he turns Ced reaches up and tugs Mak down in a front face lock rolling him over onto his shoulders and into a small package pin fall attempt!! Matt White dives from his position of asking for a submission around the roll up and…

“SMALL PACKAGE!” Shouts Stevens.

ONE

TWO

T

H-

No, Ced only gets a two count as Francis pushes out of the small package.

“So Ced knows how to kick AND do a small package, I’m impressed…”

“Bobby, kicks are just his base attack!” Rebuts Stevens, clearly upset about the lack of respect shown to Ced. “He also has a solid background in technical grappling, submissions and his “Markout” is a springboard double stomp.”

“The “Markout” is just a exaggerated kick to the gut in my book!”

Francis is up faster than Ced and lunges knocking him back down with an elbow to the back of his neck. Ced covers his neck a little as Mak pulls him up to his feet, but Francis pounds away with forearm shots anyways, while standing a little of to the left of Ordonez! A stunned Ced can only continue to protect his neck, as the Franchise lifts him up and plants him on the canvas with a Backdrop suplex!! Francis floats over into a lateral press as White hits the mat again…

ONE

TWO

T-

No, Mak only gets a two count as Ordonez kicks out.

The Franchise stands and pulls Ced up holding some of his short spiky hair. Ced, well aware of his surroundings, hits a right hand to the face and goes for a second – and connects! The crowd starts a small “CED” chant but Francis ends that momentum with a knee deep to Ordonez’s gut! As the chant stalls out, Ced doubles over and feels two arms reach around his waist… one around his back and the other in front. After a small grunt from Mak Francis, his partner gets heaved overhead and off to the side on his back and neck!!

“GUTWRENCH SUPLEX~!” comes the call from Riley before Stevens can even get it out. Ced arches his back as Francis lunges to the near ropes and gaining some momentum, struts forward, leaps into the air and drives his fist right into his partners ribcage!!! Francis rolls into a cover and the crowd starts to briefly boo. White seems to be getting a nice workout so far as he drops to make the count…

ONE

TWO

T

H-

No! Only a two count for the Franchise.

“Mak Francis has really been interchanging attacks on the neck while keeping on rib cage-”

“To set up the Frog splash, Franchise Tag or both in combination, correct Grand Chump!”

“Well wonders never cease... Bobby Riley made a good point.” Acknowledges Stevens. “But everything else you’ve said made no sense so it’s a wash.”

Francis is now visibly getting upset as he rises up to his feet. He grabs Ced by the hair again and wraps his leg around Ordonez before completing the Abdominal Stretch! Ced shakes his head and tries to find some way out of this hold as Matt White asks him if he’ll submit. Francis looks over Ordonez to see White checking on him and checks one more time before reaching out and grabbing the top rope for extra leverage!!

“AHHHHH!” Yells Ced which proves the point of added leverage equaling more pain. The crowd now behind Ced shouts grievances about this action and Mak quickly releases the ropes. White finally rises from his position and checks but sees nothing worthy of breaking the hold. Ced tries to power out of the stretch while Francis has a lack of extra leverage but Francis just reapplies his grip on the top rope!!

“That’s more like it Mak!”

“How can you condone this Bobby?!"

“He just using every advantage at his disposal.” Responds Riley. “What’s wrong with that?”

“CED!” Yells a small section of the crowd slowly at first and then other sections start to pick up on it and stomp against the floor. Mak really grabs a hold of the ropes and wrenches away at it causing another scream of agony from Ordonez!! This time Matt White just misses the Franchise’s hand on the top rope! The crowd continues on chanting “CED! CED! CED!” and getting faster and faster while White gives Mak a strange look before going back to checking on Ced! And Francis grabs the ropes again pulling harder than the first two times – but this time White is on to him and checks from the opposite way, catching him in the act and kicking his hand off the ropes!!!

“ARGGGHH!” Shouts Ced, as the distracted Franchise hadn’t been applying anywhere near the same amount of weight as he had been, before tossing Francis over in a hip toss!!

“Here we go CED!” Exclaims Stevens. “He’s really got this crowd behind him now!”

Francis bolts up to his feet and swings wildly with a lariat meant to take Ced back to the mat – but Ordonez sees it coming and ducks under the attack before driving a knee deep into Francis’s gut stunning him! Ced quickly scoots behind his tag partner and prepares him for a backdrop suplex – but Mak gets a elbow to the side of Ced’s head before executing a standing switch!! Francis goes to lift Ced for a German suplex to god knows where, since they’re so close to the ropes - BUT Ced lands a sharp elbow to the gut of the self proclaimed Franchise – and a second one finds its mark before Ordonez cracks Francis in the ear with a sick elbow!! Another standing switch and now Ced is in control before lifting Mak up parallel to the mat and dropping him… on his neck… ON THE BOTTOM TURNBUCKLE PAD!!!

“HOLY SHIT” is the crowds new mantra as Ced rolls away to catch a breather while Mak remains slumped in the corner in obvious discomfort. Ced winds up on the opposite side of the ring as he rolls off of his back and into a doubled over position. He looks around to survey the situation, looking at the crowd, then at the mat, and finally at Mak, who begins to pull himself up with the aid of the top ring ropes. Ced bounces to his feet and runs toward Mak at full speed. Mak, seeing the charge and ducks his head down as Ced nears forcing Ced to sail over the top rope.

Somehow, Ced manages to grab a hold of the top rope and narrowly lands on the apron with one foot, the other dangling close to the mats below. He recovers and begins to stand up on the apron as Mak turns around to realize Ced didn’t fall to the outside. Mak tries to grab a hold of him, but Ced elbows him hard in the jaw to counter. The impact spins Mak around but he makes a full circle and tries to grab Ced. However, he grabs air and ends up holding the top ropes as Ced took two steps to the left during the brief delay. Taking advantage of Mak’s fleeting moment of confusion; Ced hops up and nails Mak with a gamengiri from the apron. Mak falls straight back and seemingly out as Ced tumbles to the outside, unable to control his landing.

“Ced attempts a Gamengiri and unlike the Enzigiri earlier in the match it hits!” Yells Grand Slam. “Francis looks out and all he needs is the cover!”

Ced quickly recovers to his feet, but takes a moment to try to recover the pain caused by the fall. He spots the downed Mak and slides in as quickly as he can to make a cover.

ONE!

TWO!

T

H

R–

No! Mak gets a shoulder up!

As Ced pushes himself up to a kneeling position and rubs his aching side, taking a deep breathe out. He lifts Mak to his feet and snapmares him over, sitting him parallel to the ropes. The crowd is jumping as Ced measures up and does a low dropkick that hits Mak between the shoulder blades. The impact jars Mak and he collapses onto the mat as Ced slides to his feet and makes a dash to the far ropes.

“Could he be going for...?”

He rebounds and bounds over Mak and onto the middle rope, back flipping off of it.

“I THINK IT’S TIME WE ALL HAD A MARKOUT MOMENT!!!”

The Mark Out lands on the mat as Ced looks from side to side trying to find his missed target…

Then a pair of arms begin to wrap around his waist and Ced reacts by twisting to his side and elbowing high, but he misses that as Mak sways back to dodge the blow, ending up in a belly-to-belly waist lock!! Mak tries to suplex him overhead, but Ced wraps his right leg around and sits back as far as he can to neutralize the throw. Mak does nothing more than an upward thrust as Ced elbows him with a left elbow strike using the momentum to spin, managing to escape the waist lock. Ced pivots and connects with a hard roundhouse kick to Mak’s leg, pushing through the slight pain in his own from the earlier attack on it! Mak grimaces as he tilts to the side as Ced spins around and does a back flip that slightly misses its usual mark but hits Mak solidly in the trapezius!!

“Even after missing the “Markout”, Ced is a house en fuego!!”

Mak tries to catch himself as he begins to fall backward but he falls into a seated position as Ced rolls and turns to realize the backflip-giri didn’t knock him out. Mak tries to pull himself up but only gets up onto one knee as Ced resolves the situation by running full speed and laying Mak out with an extra stiff high kick to the face, the pain in his leg long forgotten. The momentum carries Ced into the ropes as Mak eyes stare upward at the lights. Ced falls on top of Mak and hooks the leg as the referee Matt White slides into position.

ONE!

TWO!

T

H

R

E

Ced raises his arms and takes a deep breath but the referee taps him on the shoulder and directs his attention to Mak, who is firmly grabbing the bottom rope!!

“And Francis escape by the skin of his teeth! But great ring presence to realize exactly where he was and how close the ropes were.” Mentions Stevens giving Francis his due.

Ced looks a bit deflated and a bit lost in thought as he figures out his next move after thinking that he had won. Mak begins to stir as Ced waits for him to get up. Mak sits up and gets greeted with a roundhouse kick to the back of the head causing him to roll into the ropes. Ced pulls him up and hits him with a flurry of kicks to the torso and legs as Mak does his best to cover up. He finds an opening and pokes Ced in the eye, much to the chagrin of the crowd and the referee and mostly Ced, who, through his good eye at the moment, looks infinitely pissed about the use of foul play. He springs back to his feet and goes for a gamengiri, but Mak blocks it with his forearms as he tilts his head back to avoid a hard blow to the head. Ced nearly rebounds right back onto his feet, but ends up with his back turned to Mak, who slaps on the Million Dollar Exemption in the center of the ring!!!

“Mak saw whatever the hell the name of that kick is coming and has Ced all but finished!”

“When did you start getting behind Francis again?”

“When he started holding onto the ropes during the Ab stretch. It just screamed Franchisable!”

Ced’s eyes widen in shock as the referee steps into position, but he gets swatted away by Ced’s arm as he fights to the corner. Ced steps onto the lower turnbuckle and then the second turnbuckle before shifting his weight backward. However, Mak pulls up on the Exemption and turns it into a high-angle Million Dollar-plex, dropping Ced on his head and sending chills through the spines of several crowd members and the referee, who drops down to check on a motionless Ced laying face down on the canvas. A few people in the front row begin crossing their hands over their heads as the rest of the audience generates an expected “Holy Shit!” chant.

“Holy crap…wait this is a PPV! HOLY FUCKING SHIT WITH THE TILDE BANG! Ced is DEAD! I mean fucking dead! Super Roid Beast wants to fuck with you dead!”

“Dammit, shut the fuck up, Bobby!” Counters Stevens also cursing for the first time in this match.

“eep…”

“Well, I think Ced was trying for a pinning reversal of some sort on that exchange, but Mak Francis, love him or hate him, is an expert tactician and reversed it into one hell of a Million Dollar-plex.”

Ced begins to stir and immediately cradles his head as Mak, actually looking a bit concerned a moment ago, nonchalantly rolls Ced over with the sole of his boot and covers him. Matt White looks a bit disgusted, but counts the fall regardless.

ONE!

TWO!

“He’s fuckin’ dead!” mumbles Riley, more than happy with this outcome.

T

H

R

E

E-

NO! Ced gets a shoulder up and both the Mak and the referee look in a bit of disbelief. Mak covers him again, hooking both legs.

“What the HELL!!” Shouts Riley forgetting Stevens earlier threat. “He’s got to have him this time!”

ONE!

TWO!

T

H

R

E

EE-

NO! Ced kicks out yet again, flustering Mak even more. Mak hooks Ced’s legs and cradles his head for a textbook pin.

“JESUS! Maybe this time?”

ONE!

TWO!

T

H

R

E

EEE–

NO! Mak throws his arms up in extreme frustration as Ced, though looking worse for wear, kicks out once more.

“Ced Ordonez just WIL NOT GVE UP BOBBY!”

“But he won’t kick out of a damn Franchise Tag!”

Mak slugs Ced in the face before putting him in a front face lock. He grabs a hold of Ced's leg but it slips out of his grasp before he can grab around it. Ced slips his arm around Mak’s head and falls back into his second surprising small package of the night!!

ONE!

Mak quickly rolls through and Ced’s shoulders end up on the mat.

ONE!

TWO!

T

H

R

E–

NO! Ced rolls over and pins Mak’s shoulders but breaks out of the cradle before the referee can count, pushing himself up and quickly coming back down onto Mak’s ribs with a double knee drop. Francis clutches his ribs in pain as Ced picks him up off the mat, scores a forearm and tosses him into the ropes and lunges into the air spinning and hitting a jumping back elbow! Francis scoots up to his feet and staggers a bit until Ced grabs him by the arm and attempts another Irish whip – but Francis reverses falling down to the mat as Ordonez gets whipped with some EXTRA AUTHORITY and hits the turnbuckle pad before slumping into the corner in a heap!!!

“Momentum shift in the Franchise’s favor Mark!”

Mak still loopy from the quickness of Ced’s attack and all the strikes to his ribs gets up, before dashing in to lariat his opponent! Ced looks at Francis with a glossy eyed expression on his face, but gets his feet up just in time!!

“And back to Ced again Bobby!”

Francis stumbles back as the crowd gets behind Ced again, but rushes in again anyways! Ced gets a second kick that stuns Francis who stumbles out to the middle of the ring and Ced grabs him before Irish whipping him into the ropes!! Upon his return, Ced swings his leg up in a back roundhouse kick to the face – but the Franchise regains his head and catches the kick before tossing Ordonez overhead in a leg and arm suplex!!! Ced falls to the mat in a heap as Francis quickly picks him up for a scoop slam…

But Mak stalls, placing Ordonez’s head off to the side before driving it into the canvas with a sickening crunch!!

Ced’s body hits the mat with a dull thud as Francis, clutching his still injured ribs slowly walks towards the left most turnbuckle which Ordonez’s body is parallel to!! “No way! Ced’s at least half way across the ring probably two thirds!” Yells Stevens but Francis just continues shuffling. The self proclaimed Francis climbs through the ropes and scales the turnbuckle from the outside before leaping off…

Pumping his arms and legs…

And HITTING THE FROGSPLASH~!

On Ced knees that have been raised up…

“What presence of mind by Ced to get the knees up!”

Mak slides of Ced’s knees and rolls onto his back nearly dead, while Ced cradles his neck and moans. Matt White checks both men and then starts the mandatory ten count.

“ONE”

Ced attempts to roll over but can’t.

“TWO”

Mak just stares up at the lights.

“THREE”

Ced finally is the first to move as he rolls over onto his stomach.

“FOUR”

Mak just stares up at the lights until he sees Ced moving.

“FIVE”

Ignoring the pain Mak rolls over as well just as Ced gets up to one knee. The crowd shows their approval with a mighty roar!

“SIX”

Francis pushes himself up to his knees as Ced stands breathing heavily.

SEVEN”

The crowd impressed by Francis giving up his body the way he did start showing there appreciation for him as well as he just gets to his vertical base!

“EIGHT-”

Ced takes a deep breath and spins nailing a roundhouse kick to Francis’s ribs! Mak takes the blow and winds up for a knife edge chop! Ced takes the attack on his chest and swings his foot at Mak’s side again, connecting with a great force!! Mak cringes in pain, but rears back and chops away with a second knife edge chop, this time eliciting a “WHOOO” from the crowd!! Ced takes a step back and nearly levels Mak with a kick that lifts Francis off of the ground!!! The crowd cheers the violence and begs for more as Francis connects with top knife edges rapid fire!!! “WHOOO~!” yells the hot crowd as Ced spins from the power of the chops and spins into a back roundhouse that ends the competition!!!!

“DUELING CHOPS AMD KICKS!”

“I TOLD YOU ALL CED COULD DO IS KICK!!”

Ordonez grabs hold of the worn down Francis and completes an Irish whip - but Mak scores a reversal that actually gets reversed by Ced. The Franchise rebounds off the ropes and dashes forward with everything he has left lifting his leg up and ignoring the pain in his ribs and he hits!!!!

Mak hits the Yakuza kick and falls into a pin sitting on the chest of the downed Ced who is probably out cold!!!! White slides into position…

ONE!

TWO!

T

H

R

E

NO!! Ced gets a shoulder up!! Somehow someway Ced gets a shoulder up!!!

“What the hell is going on…” mutters Riley, who was so sure Francis had won.

“What guts and determination by Ced! He will not quit, he won’t give up and with GOD AS MY WITNESS HE WILL NOT LAY DOWN!!”

Francis rolls off of Ced not knowing what to do as he countered the Franchise Tag, got the knees up for the Frog Splash and kicked out of the damn Yakuza Kick! Mak just slowly gets up to his feet, the crowd screaming for someone anyone to win the match, and picks up Ced with him!!

He puts him in the front face lock!!!

Cradles the leg!!!!

And Ced fights out with a right hand to the gut!!!!

Ordonez backs away rebounding off the near ropes before rushing forward and hitting running lariat at the same time as he sweeps Mak’s legs from under him!!!

“Final Surge II, The Running Clothesline with a Leg Sweep!!”

“Dear God Mak you can’t lose to a guy that only kicks…”

Ced reaches around the waist of his tag partner and clasps an arm around his back, interlocking it with the one in front! He picks the self proclaimed Franchise up to his knees and hoists him overhead, pausing into a Powerbomb set up before dropping him in a Gutwrench Powerbomb!!

Ced looks to the near ropes and back to the crowd as Francis rolls on the mat a little!

“I SAID IT ONCE BEFORE BUT I REALLY THINK IT’S TIME WE ALL HAD A MARKOUT MOMENT!!”

He rushes over to the ropes leaping up and bouncing off the second one!!! He executes a flip in mid air and lands with both of his feet directly on the Franchise’s chest!!!! Ced drops into a cover hooking both legs and pulling with all he’s got!!!!!

“NOOOO!” Bellows Riley.

“MARKOUT!!!” Shills Stevens as Matt White slides into position…

ONE!

TWO!

T

H

R

E

E!

YES! He gets the pin!! White points for the bell and Funyon gets up out of his seat…

DING! DING! DING!

Funyon brings the mic to his lips as White raises Ced Ordonez’s hand in the air. “THE WINNER OF THIS MATCH BY PINFALL, CED ORDONEZzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz!”

“What a great match! It started out slow at first but really picked up with both men giving it their all!”

Meanwhile Mak Francis, who’s finally shaken off the effects of the “Markout” pounds his hand on the mat VERY pissed off at this turn of events. Francis gets up to one knee and slaps the mat again while Ordonez holds his ribs with the hand that isn’t being raised. Mak sells his ribs as well before getting up completely.

“Please MARK, Mak lost… this ain’t great… but it looks like it might get better!” Shouts Riley as Francis stands behind Ced who is finished getting his hand raised. Ced turns around and Mak bring his arm up…

Before placing his hand out for him to shake… Ced grabs his partners hand and while pissed that he lost Francis completes the shake! Mak barely stands, still cradling his rib his rolls out of the ring and walks to the back receiving a loud “Franchise” chant as he goes. Ced stands in the ring and raises his hand one more time as SWF Ashes To Ashes 2002 goes to commercial break with SWF Ashes to Ashes 2002 in the bottom right hand corner.

December 2, 2002

The SJL cameras cut back in, right on the smiling face of Mark Stevens, and the otherwise visage of Bobby Riley. Both men face the camera, but of course, it is Mark Stevens who speaks first.

“Well, ladies and gentlemen, we’ve just seen a tremendously exciting opener between Ced Ordonez and Mak Francis. And coming up next, we’ve got another awesome matchup, between Ash Ketchum and a new arrival to the SWF, named Sigil.”

Riley snorts. “Damn Sigil, some guys have all the luck. Beating the crap out of Ash Ketchum, AND He gets to hang out with your hero and mine, Tom Flesher? I’ve been begging for both of those things for MONTHS now, and no, noone pays attention to what I want. Hell, why not just get the Midnight Carnival out here after every Matchup, so my torture can be…”

Bobby is cut off as a loud electronic screeching rips through the arena, and the Smarktron fires up, blue laser lights moving along it and spelling out the words ‘Midnight Carnival’, which promptly light up on the screen, pulsing in time to the familiar tune of the Red Hot Chili Pepper’s ‘Love Rollercoaster’. Mark can't help but burst into laughter, as Riley avoids bursting into flames

“I... I was kidding! DAMNIT, I WAS KIDDING! WHY DO YOU HATE ME, GOD?”

The Smarktron continues to pulse, and two faces appear on the screen, El Luchadore Magnifico on the left, CIA on the right, just in time for both men to emerge together, eliciting a massive pop from the crowd. Both men play to the crowd, looking quite snazzy in new full length trenchcoats, designed to look like the flags of their native countries. CIA raises both his hands, as the current carnies wait on stage, and soon, a Microphone is tossed up to him, the sounds of the Carnival’s theme fading from the speakers. Looking out at the crowd, CIA smiles, and quickly goes for the cheap pop. “Who loves Texas, eh?”

The crowd explodes, Bobby Riley groans, and CIA swings right into another cheap pop. “And who loves the MIDNIGHT CARNIVAL?” Once more, the fans obediently explode with cheers, and CIA walks over to Magnifico, throwing his arm over the shoulders of the world champ and smiling. “Now, Mags. I know these people love us..”

“Si.”

“And I know these people wonder, what WILL the Carnies do next?”

“Si!”

“So I was thinking, hey, we’ve both got big matches tonight, but I think we’ve got an announcement that can blow that right out of the water, eh. Do you want to tell them, or can I?”

Magnifico seems to consider this for a moment, before finally turning to his Canadian counterpart, and indicating that he should continue. The Canadian seems very jazzed up at this possibility, and looks over towards the entryway, then back towards the fans. “Alright then, champ, let’s not keep these fine folks waiting. The Midnight Carnival might seem to be a bit low in numbers. It might seem that way, but Magnifico and I have been looking for a few good men, eh?”

“Hmm..." Mark scritches his chin, before thinking aloud. "Riley, I wonder... Could this be an announcement about the recently returned Alex Zenon, one time LEADER of the midnight Carnival?”

Riley buries his face in his hands. “Only if I’m in hell.”

CIA continues, unaware of the conversation the two announcers are currently having. “Unfortunately, folks, we didn’t find a few good men.” The fans boo this little announcement, and CIA lets his head droop. After a moment, he raises up, smiling wide, and raises his microphone. “Oh, no. We didn’t find any good men. But we found one VERY good woman, eh? Give it up, ladies and gentlemen, for the newest member of the Midnight Carnival. One very lovely, very lucky, very ‘I hate Tom Flesher, so clearly I’ve got a brain in my skull’ Hardcore Queen! ANNIE ECLECTIC!”

The fans explode with cheers, and the PA kicks in, ‘Love Rollercoaster’ firing up once more, and ushering out Annie Eclectic, looking dazzling in a full length Trenchcoat designed like a Japanese flag, hardcore title draped over one arm, US title over the other. Smiling, she makes her way over to Magnifico and CIA, all three coming together, the Current carnies taking Annie’s hands and raising them overhead, all three bathing in the glow of the crowd, as a ‘Car-ni-val! Car-ni-val!’ chant begins in the arena.

“Ugh... I’m gonna be sick. THIS is what we get? A woman who wouldn’t even provide..." Riley pauses... "Lip... service... to Tom Flesher is joining the sorriest band of misfits since….”

“Watch what you say, Bobby boy. There’s still a little bit of Carnie in the man seated next to you, and just cause YOU want to suck Flesher’s cock doesn’t mean everyone does.”

Riley sits in stunned silence, as Mark breaks out of his icy tone.

“The bottom line is, Riley, the Carnival is now one member, and TWO title belts stronger, and these fans are going crazy! I can’t wait to see what the hardcore queen has in store for us now that she’s booked a ticket on the rollercoaster of love.”

Annie separates from CIA and Magnifico, looking out over all the fans. After letting her eyes scan the crowd, the Eclectic Ms. E turns towards Magnifico, who smiles and raises his microphone. “Welcome to the party, Chica. Why not say hello?” with a quick flick of his wrist, Mags tosses his microphone to Annie, and she snatches it out of the air, turning back towards the crowd. “Well, well... it's been awile, but things are finally looking up for the Hardcore Queen! I finally got that full of himself prick off my back, I’ve got some good friends, a spiffy new wardrobe..." Annie's trademark cocky grin takes up residence on her face. "...and two VERY special golden accessories.” As the fans cheer, Annie raises both of her belts over her head, and does a bit of a spin, laughing lightly. Only moments later, however, she looks deadly serious, raising the microphone once more.

“Blah... You know, a lot of things have occurred to me these past couple of months. Losing the respect... no, getting treated like shit by an arrogant pack of bastars really brings things into the light. And tonight, I get to strike first, like the hardcore queen does best. The Magnificent Seven thinks I’m insignificant? Tom Flesher thinks I’m his DICK WARMER? I’m the Hardcore Champ! I’m the US Champ! And tonight, I'm gonna cut a swath through Danny Williams. I’m ripping into the brawn of the Magnificent Seven... an' I’ll soon be making my way to the brain. Look out, Tom Flesher, cause Annie Eclectic’s coming to take you down, you conniving, underhanded, arrogant self important son of a--!" Annie stops herself, and catches her breath, then speaks into the mic again... "You messed with my principles. The very things that I stand for, and the things that have carried me through the SWF my whole career. So Tom... I promise this in the name of Honor, Love, and Trust.... It shall be so “

Eliciting a large pop from the crowd with these words, Annie smiles once again, reaching to either side of her and grabbing Magnifico and CIA by the back of their necks, pulling the two masked superstars in close and letting out a cry of joy.

“Annie Eclectic declares all out war on the Magnificent Seven, and Tom Flesher take note, she’s coming for you, just as soon as she can!" Mark cheerleads. "This may be the spark that fires up the carnies. And you have to wonder, will this be the end of the Carnies recruitment drive? After all, Annie Eclectic and Alex Zenon have been seen talking a LOT lately...”

Riley groans, banging his head against the announce table. “Please, say it ain’t so. I want this moment to be over, right now.”

Just as Riley says this, the three smiling superstars on the stage lean in around Annie’s microphone, ELM’s voice ringing out loud and clear “And you must remember, mi compadres….” Here, the other two jump in, all three crying out at once. “CARNIES KICK ASS!”

The fans give a rousing ovation to all three superstars, and the carnies theme fires up one more time, restarting their entrance video, this time with the laughing face of the hardcore queen in the middle of the two masked warriors. All three give their own unique salutes to the fans as they play to the crowd once more, and finally, all three disappear to the back.

“Damn... The Carnies have a new member in the queen herself, Annie E, and the show is JUST getting underway. What other surprises does this night have in store?”

Riley doesn’t seem quite as excited as his announce partner, his voice sounding just a bit bitter. “Oh, good, the princess of Trash herself. Can we PLEASE get on with things? My whole night has just been soured by not one, but three clowns.”

“Riley, you need to get a sense of humour, one of these days. Ladies and Gentleman watching at home, don’t go away, cause up next we’ve got Ash Ketchum facing Sigil in a number one contender’s matchup for Annie Eclectic’s own hardcore title. And you wouldn’t want to miss that!”

The cameras cut away from Steven’s smiling face, sweeping through the crowd, catching many fans wholeheartedly holding up signs praising the carnies, or their newest member, Annie E...

December 2, 2002

The camera fades back into the Frank Erwin Center in Fort Worth, Texas, as we return from another SWF Video package and back to the Smarks Wrestling Federation PPV, Ashes to Ashes! The crowd cheers as they hold up signs like “??? = Edwin”, “??? = King”, and a many others, perhaps the oddest of which is “??? = Bobby Riley”. Down at ringside, Grand Slam Mark Stevens sees the sign and gives a good hearty laugh.

“What’s so funny, huh?” Asks Riley, acting as tough as he can. “Don’t think I could take on that Mexican moron?”

“Riley, you would have trouble beating the Cardboard Comet, let alone ELM.”

“Pfft. All I need to do is call INS, they come here and drag him out of the ring, countout, and we have Bobby Riley as the new SWF World Champion.”

“Hey, you and me both know that ELM is a totally legal and- hey, what are you doing there?” Asks the Carnie, pointing at the glass coffee mug that Riley is now filling to the brim.

“Oh… um, stayed up all night, gotta keep awake for the PPV, you know?”

Grand Slam leans over a little, and catches sight of “Tom Flesher” emblazoned on the cup in black letters. “Oh no, I don’t think so…” He says, picking up the cup and pouring it out, and passing it back to a little girl nearby. “Here you go, little girl. Something to put your… is that 7 UP?” The girl smiles as she takes it, but then notices the name and goes “Eww!” and throws it to the ground, shattering it.

“Your going to have to pay for that, you little brat! It cost me $14.99!”

“Give it a rest, Riley…” He says as the lights begin to dim in the arena.

The SmarkTron goes white with the blue words "SUPERIORTY COMPLEX" and "MAGNIFICENT SEVEN" on it. Then, with an explosion of blue pyro, "Kashmir" by Led Zeppelin bursts out over the loudspeaker. Tom Flesher emerges from the cloud of smoke, striding confidently to the ring as videos of his signature moves alternate in half-second clips with the words "SUPERIOR ONE," "AWARD-WINNING," "MAIN ATTRACTION" and "MAGNIFICENT SEVEN." Flesher enters the ring and poses in the center, head bobbing in time with the music, until the symphonic hook cues a machinegun-like burst of blue and white pyro from each corner. Tom slides into the ring. Flesher smirks ase looks out at the angry crowd, who boos him as normal, and he speaks up into the microphone.

“People, I’ve come out here to make a very special announcement. No, it’s not about Orochi, who I fully intend to humiliate tonight, but rather…. A new member of the SWF’s Magnificent 7.”

“You see, I found him a few weeks ago, and after talking with him, my incredible people skills helped me convince him to come and join the Magnificent 7 for the betterment of his career.” Grand Slam looks at Tom in the ring with a inquisitive look, and speaks up.

“I don’t like where this is going…”

“But I sure do!” quips a cheerful Riley.

“I could go on and on about this man’s credentials, his titles, and his raw talent…. But I won’t. I think that his entrance-”, Tom glances over at Grand Slam with a smile, and Grand Slam jerks back a little, “- says it all.” Flesher points down at the entrance ramp, and the lights go out, leaving a blackened arena staring at the backlight entrance ramp and a static filled SmarkTron…

“Ahhhhhhhh ahhhhhhhhh…”

The Frank Erwin Center is filled with the low droning of voices, emanating from the speakers, and the SmarkTron begins to turn a foggy gray. Mark Stevens looks and listens in absolute disbelief, on his breathe mumbling, “There’s no way…”

“Your construction…. Smells a’ corruption…”

A tall, lanky figure fades in through the fog, leaning up against a lamp post…

“I manipulate… to recreate…”

The figure fades out and back in, this time holding a microphone….

“This air to ground saga….. Gotta launder… my Karma (karma karma karma)…”

The figure appears, arms outstretched and standing up as the voices trail off. The funky beat continues on, with two spotlights swinging back and forth across the entrance way, perfectly in sync with the beat. They continue to swing across the stage, and as the music swells, the pair of lights begin to spiral around the arena, and as the drumbeat goes into a stuttering roll a wall of purple strobe lights come up….

“I SAID HALLELUJAH!”

For lack of a better expression, the crowd goes absolutely apeshit as the lyrics to “Battleflag” by Low Fidelity All-Stars comes out across the speakers, with red and gold pyros shooting out from the entrance way as the arena is sprayed with the effects of red and gold disco lights. On the SmarkTron, the highlights of an illustrious career are shown, and finally, a man covered with a trenchcoat and hat steps out onto the entrance ramp. Mark stutters a bit, taken aback by the entrance.

“It.. it.. it can’t be! He wouldn’t… he couldn’t!”

“He just did, Mark! Edwin MacPhisto joined the Magnificent 7!”

Edwin walks down the entrance ramp quickly, occasionally giving a wave of his leather gloved hands to the crowd, but keeping his face looking away from the crowd. His stride is precise and deliberate, and Mark Stevens angrily glares at Flesher, who looks over and returns it with a smug grin.

“That isn’t Edwin, Bobby. There is no way in hell that could be him.”

“Get with it, Mark. Edwin finally went over to the winning side, and you can’t accept it.”

The grand Mac Daddy slides into the ring with ease, and quickly gets up to his feet and approaches Flesher, who looks up at him and smiles, and ‘Edwin’ takes off his hat…

… And reveals a cropped gray haircut? The crowd is stunned, and instantly begins booing as the man reveals his face.

“I knew it, Bobby. Edwin would never join the Magnificent 7.”

“Meh. Judge Mental is better anyways. At least he won’t go around breaking people’s necks…”

Flesher cracks his neck, smirking and obviously pleased with himself. "Yes, my loyal fans, the newest member of the Magnificent Seven is none other than the former SJL World Champion, Judge Mental! You see, I've been watching the Junior League for quite some time, and as you all know, I gave my compatriot here the power to form his own faction of the stable in the development fed. I knew when I did that that the Judge was outgrowing the territory. He's been a big fish in a small pond for as long as he's been in the Junior League, and now he's helping me round out the stable in the SWF. So, Judge, please enlighten these people as to our motives."

Mental takes the microphone and stares gravely into the camera. "Well, a grand welcome for a man who has broken two necks, but nothing for a respected law official and 2 time SJL World Champion? You people have no sense of morality. No ethics. Well, I think you all need to be taught a lesson in the philosophy of the Magnificent Seven's martial law. Later tonight, you'll all see Sigil win the Hardcore Title as his ticket into the Magnificent Seven." Flesher smirks and nods as Mental continues, "and then you'll see Dangerous Danny Williams crack every bone in Annie Eclectic's body to bring the United States Title home. This man here," he points to Flesher, "is going to send Orochi back to Aechiba in a pine box, and then he's taking his first steps on the road to the SWF World Title. Tell me, who's going to stop the Magnificent Seven? Whether it's the Boilermaker, the Early Winter, the Franchise Tag, the Deathbomb or just plain Capital Punishment, no one who crosses the Magnificent Seven is going to make it through litigation. No one."

Flesher takes the mic one more time. "Orochi, if you think you're making it out of the arena tonight on your own power, you're sadly mistaken. When you step into the ring with me, know that you're nothing more than a steppingstone to greatness. Tonight? Nothing but a story for your grandchildren, assuming I don't castrate you before the pin."

With that, "Kashmir" begins playing again, and Flesher and Mental leave the ring together. They head to the back, each man smirking confidently as they step back through the curtain.

"Well!" says Mark Stevens. "What a development we have here! Not only has Judge Mental been called up by the SWF, but he's the newest member of Tom Flesher's Magnificent Seven!"

"They're even more unstoppable now!"

"Let's take a quick break for Adam The Red over in the SWF Shopzone, and then we'll be back with Sigil and Ash Ketchum!"

December 2, 2002

Zooming back into The Frank Erwin Center in Austin, Texas, we come upon fans,

cheering loudly like there’s no tomorrow! The theme music plays in the background...

whatever the hell it is. They’re all trying to get on TV, some with signs, reading "Friends

Don’t Let Friends Watch RAW" and "I Love Stubby!" Without delay, we switch to the

announcers' table, where we are greeted with a big, happy-

Fans: S-Dubbya-F! S-Dubbya-F!

Stevens: Welcome back to SWF Storm! Joined by my cohort Bobby Riley, I’m "Grand

Slam" Mark Stevens, live from Austin, Texas! The crowd is amazing here!

Riley: Yeah! They’re all on welfare! They spent all their money just to come watch us.

LOOOOOOOOOOOSERS!!!

The crowd begins to boo at Bobby’s comment.

Stevens: That’s rather rude, Bobby.

Riley (smiling): I know.

Crowd: Ass-hole! Ass-hole!

Riley: Yes, Mark is an asshole. Now, tell ‘em bout the match.

Stevens: ... Ummmm... OK, Bobby. It’s Ash Ketchum versus Sigil in a #1 Contendership

to the SWF Hardcore Title Match! Sigil has terrorized Ash for about two weeks now,

even savagely destroying him on Storm this past week, as well as Annie Eclectic!

Riley: That... was scary. I shit my pants that time. It was like watching a "Best of

Cutthroat" video... wait, that doesn’t exist... I mean, a "Best of Val Venis" video...

Suddenly, there’s the tolling of a haunting cathedral bell as faint orchestral music plays in the background. Each successive tolling of the bell causes the arena lights to get dimmer, until the third toll blacks them out completely. The music fades out, and then a series of white pyrotechnic explosions rocket across the sides of the stage. The hard rock beat of Soil’s "Halo" begins pumping through the speakers, and the lights return to normal to reveal Sigil already standing on stage. He walks down to the ring without preamble,

ignoring the jeering audience as he prepares for his match.

"I will stone you, stone you

lay my arms around you

I will stone you, stone you

My little halo!"

Funyon: The following no disqualification match is scheduled for one-fall, and is a number one contendership match for the SWF HARDCORE CHAMPIONSHIP!!! Introducing first, weighing in at 293 pounds, The Revolution... SIGILLLLLLLLLL!!!

He enters the ring, quickly hopping onto his feet. Once in the ring, he faces towards the

SmarkTron, and stands there... waiting. Waiting for them to come, like lambs being led to

the slaughter.

Riley: Here comes The Revolution to claim the title! This shouldn’t be long.

Stevens: This man scares me...

Riley: And he should. Now watch him maim.

Suddenly, the lights cut out, a kickin’ piano piece blastin’ over the speakers. The crowd

begins to cheer a little, pyro similar to Christian’s entrance flowing from the top of the

SmarkTron and spewing from vents in front of the entrance. The crowd rises to its feet,

roaring with cheers.

Riley: Shit... please... not today...

At the same time, a Poke Ball upon the SmarkTron. It begins to spin as the crowd pops,

spinning faster and faster and faster until it stops, blocked out by a picture of a certain

wrestler’s head, winking at everyone in the arena. A huge pyro blast suddenly kicks up

from the front of the stage as Billy Crawford’s "Pokemon Theme" blasts through the

speakers. The pyro in front of the entrance then stops, and a spotlight shines down on Ash

Ketchum. Turning around from his Jericho-like pose, he spins, smiling happily as the

crowd pops. Ash turns to look at Sigil, who stands there, expressionless, as Ketchum

makes his way down to the ring, slapping hands with some of the crazed fans.

Funyon: And his opponent, from Pallet Town, weighing in at 258 pounds, he is a member

of XF9... ASH KET-CHUMMMMMMMMMMMMM!

Ash slides into the ring, leaping up to face the man who atacked him last week... Sigil. He

has no remorse for what he is about to do. Swiftly, he charges at Sigil, leaping into the air

and slamming into the bigger man with a Lou Thesz Press! Ash lets out a battle cry as

Sigil lands on the mat, Ketchum immediately going to work on the bigger Sigil with a

series of hard, rapid right and left blows to the face. The crowd kinda cheers loudly,

happy that Ash is taking it to the man who attacked him last week.

Stevens: WHOA! They’re going at it right now!

Ash continues to pound at Sigil until he throws Ash off of him. Sigil gets to his feet, but

is immediately met by an Ash right hand. Sigil’s head whips back in response, but he

throws a right hook of his own into the face of Ash Ketchum, and in a matter of seconds,

that blow sets up the two men exchanging hard blows back and forth to a huge pop!

Riley: Get ‘em Sigil! You’ll win tonight!

Stevens: Nope. Gut feeling says that Ash is going to win this match.

Riley: Bullshit. Fifty says Sigil wins all in under 5 minutes. Nice clean squash match.

Stevens: Fifty bucks says I’m right and you’re wrong.

Riley: You’re on!

Ash Ketchum and Sigil continue to exchange hard right hands, but with each blow Sigil lands, the smaller Ash staggers backward. Sigil's strength is clearly overpowering Ash, and finally, Ash gives in, allowing one blow to knock him backward to the turnbuckle. Ash leans against the turnbuckle ropes, and Sigil kicks him in the gut, forcing Ash to drop even lower, landing in a sitting position. Sigil then strikes Ash in the head with a big axe kick that causes a resounding SMACK and nearly takes Ash's head off. Ash falls to the mat, lying on his side just underneath the ropes, and Sigil kicks Ash's body underneath the ropes, causing the Undercard King to fall off the ring apron to the floor below.

Stevens: Sigil takes an early advantage in this match.

Riley: Look at the size of that guy! That is one scary dude.

Sigil allows Ash to fall, and then climbs out of the ring himself and begins searching under the ring apron for some serious weaponry. He succeeds in his search, sliding out a long flat wooden table from underneath the ring. Sigil then slides it into the ring underneath the bottom rope, and climbs back in the ring. The Endbringer starts setting up the wooden hardware near a corner of the ring. Meanwhile, Ash gets to his feet and stumbles over to the timekeeper's table, where he picks up and folds a steel chair!

Riley: This is going to get rough!

Stevens: Sure is... and with no disqualifications allowed in this match, there's nothing anyone can do to stop it!

Riley: That's what I love about these kinds of matches!

Sigil extends the legs of the table and stands it up in the corner, oblivious to Ash sneaking back into the ring with the chair behind him. Ash gets right behind Sigil and swings the steel chair as hard as he can, SMACKing it across Sigil's back.

Stevens: That had to hurt!

Sigil merely stands frozen in place, seemingly unaffected by the unexpected chair shot. After a moment's hesitation, Sigil turns around to face Ash Ketchum, whose face falls in surprise.

Riley: He no-sold it! Sigil no-sold the chair shot!

A stunned Ash drops the chair, as his fingers loosen just enough that the steel object slips out of his grip and clatters onto the mat. Sigil approaches Ash and lifts the smaller man into the air, delivering a nasty powerbomb to his hapless opponent. A dazed Ash is helpless as Sigil covers for a pin attempt.

ONE!

TWO!

Stevens: NO! Ash with a kick out at two!

Riley: I don't see Ash getting out of this situation easily, Stevens.

Unperturbed by the near fall, Sigil grabs Ash and pulls him up off the mat. Sigil quickly flips Ash upward and over his head in a high angle suplex, nearly dropping Ash on his head as the Poke Freak crashes to the mat again. Once again Sigil tries for the pinfall.

ONE!

TWO!

...and Ash manages to kick out again.

Stevens: Ash Ketchum is showing a lot of resiliency as he tries to stay alive in this match!

Riley: He's getting the crap kicked out of him! I wouldn't call that resiliency! I'd call that... well... "getting the crap kicked out of him!"

Sigil at this point unties the hood from his black cloak and removes it, revealing his bald dark skinned head underneath. He wraps the hood around Ash's chin, kneeling near the head of Ash's fallen form, and pulls upward, causing the hood to tighten around Ash's throat, threatening to choke the life out of him.

Stevens: Sigil just locked in the Shroud! Will Ash Ketchum submit to this devastating submission move?

Riley: Probably.

Ash struggles against the Shroud, clawing at Sigil's hands with his own, desperate to break the hold and be able to take in a breath again. His consciousness seems to fade for a moment -- and then he suddenly comes to again, putting all his strength into moving his body away from Sigil. With a heave, he manages to turn onto his side, breaking free of Sigil's hold! Ash takes in a deep breath and then rolls out of the way before Sigil can grab him again and do any further harm to his windpipe.

Riley: Come on, Ash, ya LOSER! Where're all these new skills you supposedly picked up in Japan?

Ash tries to turn things around as he stands up, backing away from Sigil a few steps and unloading with a missile dropkick that connects with Sigil's upper body, staggering the big man back. Ash steps forward and grabs Sigil's shoulders, dropping him to the mat with an inverted double arm DDT!

Stevens: Rocket Launch followed by an Aftershock. Ash is starting to heat up!

Riley: Guess I spoke too soon. This won't last long though.

As Sigil falls over, Ash is quick to return to his feet, and he hurries to the nearest turnbuckle, hopping up on top, and then leapfrogging from the top turnbuckle in a five star frog splash as the audience cheers their hero on!

Stevens: SNORLAX SPLASH!

Riley: Snore who?

Ash lands atop Sigil on all fours, pinning him to the mat as the referee makes the count.

ONE!

TWO!

THR-- NO! Sigil literally shoves Ash into the air, chucking him several feet aside as he sits back up, seemingly unfazed by Ash's offense.

Stevens: Good lord! Is there anything that can stop this guy?

Riley: I bet the Hville Thugg could do it. Broken neck and all. One Untamed through a table; that's all it'd take, I'd wager.

Ash and Sigil both stand back up, and Sigil comes after Ash with a closed fist punch. Ash counters with a forearm smash of his own, but Sigil's second closed fist knocks Ash back, sending him reeling.

As Ash recovers from the sudden blow, he spots the steel chair still lying on the mat. Quickly, he picks it up and throws it at the unprepared Sigil. The Revolution catches the weapon just as Ash sidesteps and readies to deliver a superkick to the chair! Sigil ducks, though, grabbing hold of Ash’s arm as he drops the chair. He quickly whips Ash into the corner. Ash hits the padded turnbuckle and staggers out as Sigil charges forward, swinging his arm out as he drops down and slams Ash with an amazing Clothesline from Hell! Ash is thrown back into the corner by the blow as he plummets to the mat, hitting his head HARD on the steel portion of the turnbuckle with an echoing "THUD!". Sigil doesn’t waste a moment, grabbing hold of one of Ash’s arms and dragging the semi-conscious Ketchum back to his feet in one motion. He makes a throat slitting motion as he pulls Ash up, and the crowd promptly begins to boo him.

Stevens: This could be it!

Riley: Ash is about to be reached out and touched by Sigil... but not in a good way!

Still clutching Ash’s arm, Sigil sets up his finisher with an Irish whip to the ropes. Ash

hits them and flies off, but as he returns from the ropes, Sigil is in position, and lifts him high up into the air by hooking his hands underneath Ash's shoulders, forcing The

Undercard King to outstretch his arms in a cross-like fashion as he rises into the air.

Riley: Sigil’s about to win this match!

In a tremendous display of strength, Sigil holds Ash in the air for several seconds in this

position, turning slowly to show the entire audience, but as he turns back towards the

entrance way, there’s a pop from the crowd as a figure stands in front of him...

And then...

"CRACK!"

A Singapore Cane flies into Sigil’s face from nowhere! Sigil staggers back from the blow,

still holding onto Ash as an interfering Annie Eclectic leaps from the ring and back out to

the ramp, sliding under the bottom rope and slowly backwalking as the shocking turn of

events settles in on the crowd.

Crowd: HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT!

Riley: WHAT THE FUCK?!?!?!

Stevens: OH MY GOD!!! DID YOU SEE THAT?!?! DID YOU SEE THAT, BOBBY?!?! ANNIE ECLECTIC FROM NOWHERE WITH A SINGAPORE CANE! I DON’T BELIEVE IT!!! THE HARDCORE CHAMPION GETS REVENGE ON SIGIL FOR HIS BRUTAL ATTACK ON HER LAST WEEK!!!

In the ring, Sigil recovers, though, and the iron tough Revolution hoists Ash up for

another try at the Redemption, but before Annie must interfere once more, Ketchum grabs

hold of Sigil’s arms, hooking both of them.

Riley: Redemption time!!!!

Stevens: This is it! It’s over!

The crowd cheers loudly as Ash leans back, and in a desperation move, attempts to throw

Sigil off balance, swinging his legs upwards off of Sigil’s back. The move works! Sigil

loses balance for only a split-second, but it is a dealy mistake, as Ketchum drops to the

mat! Sigil is dragged with him, and both men slam into the mat with amazing force,

dropping into a beautiful backslide neckbreaker!

Crowd: HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT!

Stevens: C4!!!! C4 FROM KETCHUM!!!!

Riley: NO!!!! DON’T LET HIM PIN YOU!!!!

Stevens: Ash’s dream is being a 4-Time Hardcore Champion since he entered this league

and defeated Stryke at Crossfire. He doesn’t care what happens... just as long as he wins!

Both men lie out on the mat, crowd cheering for Ash, but neither man moves for quite a

while. The ref prepares to start the 10-count, but suddenly, Ash rolls Sigil over, rolling

over himself before he pushes under Sigil’s body, arching his own as not to pin himself to

the mat as he slides Sigil up into a backslide pin! The ref checks the condition of both

athletes as Ash cries in pain, but seeing that Ash is still alive and pinning Sigil, he starts to count....

Riley: Kick out!

ONE!

Riley: KICK OUT!!!!

TWO!

Riley: KICK OUT, DAMMIT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

THREE!!!!!

Riley: FUCK NO!!! DAMMIT! DAMMIT TO HELL!!!!

DING DING DING!!!

Funyon: Your winner... ASH KETCHUM!!!!

"The Pokemon Theme" begins to play over the arena as Ash barely gets up to his knees

for the ref to raise his hand, crowd exploding in cheer.

Stevens: HE DID IT! HE DID IT!!!!

Riley. NO! FIRE UP THE REPLAY! I WANNA SEE THIS!

We are treated to a replay of the move, one screen showing the replay and the other the

live action. In the replay, we can see Annie charge down the ramp while Sigil lifts Ash up

in the air for his finisher. Sigil’s back is facing away from Annie still as the crowd’s boos turn to cheers, and as Sigil prepares to finish Ash off, Eclectic sprints into the ring with all she’s got left, sliding under the bottom rope and getting to her feet. She raises the cane above her head before she nails Sigil in the face with the cane as Sigil staggers back from the blow!

Riley: No Fuckin’ Way!

Back in the ring, Ketchum has gotten to his feet, ascending the turnbuckle as he plays to

the crowd, but as he hoists his arms into the air...

"CRACK!"

The sound of flesh meeting Singapore cane echoes over the cheering fans as Ketchum

screams out in pain, collapsing forward onto the turnbuckle. The crowd boos as his

attacker lifts the cane over their head again, slamming it into Ash’s back once more!

"CRACK!" Ketchum screams as a surge of pain shoots through his body like crack

through the arteries of a drug addict. He clutches his back and falls backwards off the

turnbuckle, but as he does...

"CRACK!" Ash’s attacker smashes their Singapore cane into Ash’s neck. Ketchum grabs

his back and neck as he slams awkwardly into the mat, screaming in pain as our

announcers go into spasms, crowd booing heavily.

Stevens: JESUS FUCKING CHRIST! SIGIL IS DESTROYING, NO TERMINATING,

ASH KETCHUM!

Riley: I THINK HE’S HAD THIS PLANNED! HE PROMISED US HE’D DO THIS TO

ASH KETCHUM!

Stevens: WHAT SENSELESS VIOLENCE! SOMEONE HAVE THE BALLS TO STOP

THIS MAN!

As Sigil lifts his Singapore Cane up yet again, the referee attempts to stop Sigil as other

refs pour from the back, but swiftly-"CRACK!", the ref falls, victim of a stiff shot to the

head. Referees Timmy Thompson, Kevin Leeman, and Sexton Hardcastle all enter the

ring attempting to stop Sigil, but...

"CRACK! CRACK CRACK!"

They, too, drop to the mat, all four refs in the ring bleeding as Ash Ketchum attempts to

get up in the ring. "CRACK!" Ash isn’t getting up anymore. Sigil drops him with a quick

cane shot to the head. The top layer of sking on Ketchum’s forehead head splits shallowly

in one spot as blood begins to stream from Ash’s forehead.

DING DING DING!!!

Stevens: YOU MADE YOUR POINT, SIGIL! NOW STOP!!!

Riley: Um... Stevens has a point, Sigil! You might wanna stop now!

Sigil refuses to listen to anyone, and he grabs Ash and pulls him up into a sitting position. With the Singapore cane at his side, he places it across Ash’s forehead, and draws it back and forth like a bow across violin strings. The skin on Ash’s forehead changes to a

reddish color as the cane rubs up against his skin, then shallowly penetrates, cutting

Ketchum open slightly across the forehead as Sigil continues to dig the cane into Ash’s

head, trying to rip him apart as blood begins to drip down Ash’s face!

Stevens: HOW DISGUSTING! HE’S MUTILATING ASH KETCHUM!

DING DING DING DING DING DING DING!!!

Riley: THAT’S DISGUSTING! SOMEONE STOP HIM!

Finished having fun tearing Ketchum to pieces, he finishes the masterpiece off with

another quick blow to Ash’s head! "CRACK!" Ketchum collapses to the mat, bleeding

badly as Sigil notices the still unused wooden table free standing in one corner of the mat. Quickly, he grabs it, pulling it closer to Ash before grabbing hold of one of Ash’s arms and dragging the semi-conscious Ketchum back to his feet in one motion. He makes a throat slitting motion as he pulls Ash up, and the crowd promptly begins to boo him.

Stevens: SOMEONE STOP THIS! THIS ISN’T WRESTLING! IT’S FUCKING

MURDER!

A squadron of EMTs, refs, and backstage personnel swarms out from backstage towards

the ring. But the question is... will they make it in time?

Riley: FINALLY! SOME HELP!

Still clutching Ash’s arm, Sigil sets up his finisher with an Irish whip to the ropes. Ash

hits them and flies off, but as he returns from the ropes, Sigil is in position, and lifts him high up into the air by hooking his hands underneath Ash's shoulders, forcing The

Undercard King to outstretch his arms in a cross-like fashion as he rises into the air.

Riley: HURRY UP AND GET IN THERE!

In a tremendous display of strength, Sigil holds Ash in the air for several seconds in this

position, turning slowly to show the entire audience before he drops Ketchum down...

"CRACK!!!!!!"

...REDEMPTION, right through the table! The table splits in two as Ketchum hits the mat in a hard and violent way, his arms outstretched, eyes shut, bleeding profusely as EMTs enter the ring. Sigil steps over Ash as the EMTs reach him, smiling happily, even laughing, perhaps.

Riley: That was fuckin’ inhumane!

Stevens: DEAR GOD! DEAR GOD! THIS MAN HAS A WIFE AND UNBORN

CHILD, AND YOU JUST ENDED HIS CAREER PROBABLY! YOU HAVE NO

REGARD FOR HUMAN LIFE, YOU INSENSITIVE ASSHOLE! DAMN YOU, SIGIL!

DAMN YOUR SOUL TO HELL!!!!

The visual of the sick, twisted Sigil laughing at the fallen, bloodied, unconscious

Ketchum in the remnants of the table haunts the minds of millions as the image mercifully fades out to an advertisement for next month's SWF holiday pay-per-view...

December 2, 2002

The camera angle changes to a backstage segment as Magnificent Seven leader and ICTV champion Tom Flesher wanders the corridors (having just had something to eat) in an effort to meet back up with the rest of his team in the M7 locker room, and to prepare for his upcoming title defense against Orochi.

However, when Flesher finally arrives at the door to the M7 locker room, he is somewhat surprised to see the door open and Sigil step out. "Hello, Sigil," Flesher greets the masked wrestler, allowing himself a smug smile. "I guess it's time to talk business, isn't it?"

Sigil crosses his arms and said nothing.

"You certainly did a number on Ash Ketchum," Flesher remarks, "more so than I could have imagined, in fact! However... you didn't win the match... which means you didn't completely fulfill your part of the bargain. Therefore... I haven't decided yet if I'm going to let you into the Magnificent Seven... or not."

SMACK! Sigil whips an arm out, backhanding Flesher across the face. Sigil's brow furrows, and he steps closer to Flesher as he speaks. "You can keep your damn M7 position to yourself. Sigil works for no one." With that, Sigil walks off down the corridor, leaving behind a puzzled but still smug Flesher.

Flesher shrugs inwardly, and steps through the doorway into the Magnificent Seven locker room. Tripping on something after taking two steps in the darkened room, Flesher frowns and reaches outward for the light switch, instantly illuminating the room. Flesher looks down to see what he tripped over... and his heart stops as he finds... a body.

The body is curled up in a fetal position on the floor, and at first, Flesher cannot identify the man or even tell if he is still alive. Flesher kneels down close and turns the body over, taking the man's hand as he looks into the face of...

Mercury.

His eyes are closed, his eyelids are blackened, and his face is a crimson mask, but the man still appears human enough for Flesher to identify as one of his teammates. Upon closer inspection, Flesher can see large bruises over Mercury's eyelids, giving the impression that someone tried to blind him.

Flesher keeps one hand around Mercury's wrist but uses his other hand to turn Mercury's head ever so slightly to the right... and there was the calling card... or rather, the lack thereof.

His ear was gone. Mercury was missing an ear!

Or at least part of the ear. And there it was, lying on the floor a few inches away, covered in blood itself. Flesher shuts his eyes, but it doesn't do any good; he can't get the gruesome images out of his head.

There it is! Flesher suddenly feels a twitch in Mercury's wrist. A pulse. A faint, erratic pulse, but a pulse nonetheless. Merc was still alive. If Flesher hurried, perhaps he could get Merc to a surgeon in time to save his ear.

Suddenly a thought popped into Flesher's mind. Something Sigil said to him only a few hours ago.

"Consider it done... this will require a sacrifice, of course."

A sacrifice. A sacrifice. Dammit, Flesher understood now. This was the sacrifice. He and the rest of M7 had been screwed over, and Flesher knew it.

"Take some comfort, if you can, Mercury," Flesher says to his unconscious friend. "This will not go unanswered..."

December 2, 2002

“I watched Frost kill CIA and all I got was this lousy T-shirt shirts. Buy yours today, at FrostBrandShopzone.com.”

Frost marches onto the screen, happily taking his place next to the young lady shilling the T-shirts. “Buy it before I kill that miserable face dead.”

Coming back from that short, yet poignant commercial moment, SWF Ashes to Ashes returns to PPV on home screens and pirated bar satellite connections everywhere, finding Bobby Riley and Mark Stevens sitting at the announce table, Riley cracking up, while Stevens looks rather put off. “He bought COMMERCIAL time to insult his opponent? I’ve never seen that one before.”

“You know what, Stevens? I think I like Frost a little more, each and every day.”

Grand Slam rolls his eyes, looking pointedly in Riley’s direction. “Cause you’ve ever needed an excuse to fall in love with big, muscular jerks, whoi also happen to be men?”

“You have a point. I always was a people person.”

“Welcome back fans, and, as always, I’m Mark Stevens, and please ignore the mass of flesh sitting next to me, if it’s at all possible.”

“Oh, be nice Mark.”

“Nevermind. It’s not possible. Anyway, we’re back, to this exciting SWF PPV, coming to you live from Austin, Texas, and the Frank Erwin center, and we’ve already seen two great matches, a hot opener between Ced Ordonez and Mak Francis, who were a short lived Tag Team…”

Riley cuts in, smiling widely. “And we got to see a new arrival in Sigil, laying a hardcore beating on Ash Ketchum. You know, I love watching foreign objects connect with that annoying face’s….. um…… face.”

“Boy, Riley, with alliterative ability and perspicacity like that, I think I know how you got your job.”

“Gee, thanks, Mark.”

“Yeah. I hope whoever hired you enjoyed it, too. Cause there’s no way your announcing got you this job.”

“Hey!”

“Anyway, up next, we’re set to see a Straightjacket match between Frost and CIA, with tempers running high, which also happens to be a continuation of the rivalry between the Magnificent seven and the Midnight Carnival, which has never really quite died down since the famous showdown at Wargames.”

“And tonight, history is going to repeat itself, Mark.”

“Oh, you think CIA will beat Frost again?”

“Like in WARGAMES, you simp. A brilliantly brutal M7 victory for Frost, culminating with a fantastic beating when he gets five minutes to destroy CIA in the middle of the ring. Although I kinda wish I were in this match instead of CIA.”

“Really?”

“Oh, yeah. What I wouldn’t give for five minutes to do whatever I wanted to Frost.”

“Oh, Riley, that’s just…”

“I could finally get his recipe for Frost Brand Tacos.”

“Anyway, fans, it’s time to get this match underway, as we’ve got the Straightjackets that may be used waiting right here at the announce table, one for CIA, and another, admittedly much larger one, in case Frost needs to be strapped in for the five minutes of punishment.”

Riley smirks, and chuckles a bit. “And that tells it all right there, Folks. Frost could outpower CIA any day of the week. Hell, he benchpresses bigger weights in the gym.”

Stevens seems non-plussed, quickly coming to CIA’s defense. “Don’t count CIA out yet, Riley. We’ve seen him use his speed and ability to get a victory over Frost once before, here in the SWF, and he’s always got a trick or two up his sleeves to keep the fans happy.”

“I notice you don’t mention his SJL record against Frost, MARK. Carnie Pride won’t let the logical conclusion come about, huh?”

“Alright, let’s just get to the match, which will no doubt be an exciting confrontation no matter WHO wins.”

Funyon stands ready in center ring, clearing his throat and raising his microphone, prepared to announce both competitors down to the ring. “Ladies and gentlemen, the following is a Straightjacket match, and is scheduled for one fall, with no time limit. Introducing first, he represents the Magnificent Seven..” Funyon takes a moment while the fans erupt with boos, but continues on anyway, while the cameras swing towards the entryway, awaiting the emergence of the monster heel.

“And weighs in at two hundred and ninety six pounds. Hailing from Reykjavik, Iceland, he is….. FROOOSSSTTTT!!!!”

The lights in the arena remain unchanged, but the speakers blare, bringing ‘Frost wants to kill your mama to the ears of all the fans assembled in the arena. Many rise to their feet, booing the M7’s resident big man, but Frost ignores them as he emerges, marching past the stage with no pyro, moving slowly and purposefully, a Santa Clara cigar smoldering as he clenches the end between his teeth.

Threatening words of his entrance theme inciting the crowd, Frost pays no heed to the symphony of boos and catcalls he receives, nor does he look up to see the many negative signs about him bobbing above fan’s heads. Nevertheless, the camera does do a quick sweep of the audience as the Iceman makes his way down towards the ring, catching such gems as ‘Canadian Dream fears no Frost’, ‘Frost’s crazy. Now he’ll dress to prove it’, and finally, at Ringside, a rather large sign hanging over the apron, painted like a Canadian flag and overlaid with the words ‘CIA, stop the Iceman cold!’

The camera stays focused on this last sign as Frost marches around the ring, halting before the fans who have draped the sign over the apron, glaring as he takes a long, deep puff of his cigar, pinching the end between his fingers and tugging it out of his mouth, reaching down to press the burning end into the sign with a sizzle, smiling maliciously at the fans before him, causing them to cower back in their seats. Pulling his cigar away from the large burn mark on the sign, Frost pitches it into the lap of the fan just in front of him, chuckling as they recoil and fear, and turning to pull himself up onto the apron.

“Now that is just despicable, Bobby, the way Frost treats our fans.”

Riley sighs, and shakes his head. “Oh, the fans, the fans. I’m still always amazed that you defend these barely beings. They’re wastes of carbon. What purpose do they possibly serve, outside of making one mass lump and looking good one camera, for the sole purpose of showing that we do monster business.”

“They do pay your paycheck, Bobby.”

“And I LOVE THEM ALL.”

Stevens sighs, and looks up towards the ring, and Funyon, who is doing his best to stay as far away from Frost as possible while he does his announcing, raising his microphone once more.

“Introducing next, hailing from Ottawa, Ontario, Canada, and weighing in at two hundred and thirty seven pounds, he is the Canadian Dream, and a member of the Midnight Carnival..” Here, Funyon waits as the fans explode, giving the standard ovation to the fan favorite stable. After a few moments, their voices die down, and Funyon continues. “Ladies and gentlemen, and Bobby Riley….”

“HEY!”

“… I give you C! I! AAAA!!!!”

The fans erupt, and the lights in the arena dim, a dull red glow bathing all the Texans (And other state natives) in the arena, and that familiar anthem plays out loud, for all the fans to hear. “Oohhhh Canada…”

BOOM!

Red Pyro explodes, shooting up from the stage, and glittering red bits of confetti rain down on the audience from above, as ‘Secret Agent Man’ begins to play. After a few lines, however, the music cuts out, a sudden screeching heard instead, as a digitized female voice whispers over the speakers.

“Midnight Carnival.”

The familiar opening beats of the Red Hot Chili Pepper’s ‘Love Rollercoaster’ now cascade through the crowd, and as the lights rise back to full luminescence, CIA finally emerges, coming out below the Smarktron and raising both his hands in the air, dressed in a full length leather trenchcoat designed like a Canadian Flag. The fans let out a loud ovation, as CIA begins his march down the aisle, hands extended to his sides to slap outstretched fans hands, his eyes locked forward on Frost. As he approaches the ring, the Canadian halts, extending his arms out to his sides and doing a slow spin for all he fans, reaching into his jacket, hand emerging with a microphone, the Canadian showing he is ready to speak as the fans cheer yet again.

“Frosty the iceman, was a very angry soul. Cause he wanted a world title shot, but he’s not so hot, the Canadian’s gonna do him in!”

The fans let out a raucous round of applause for CIA’s little ditty, and the Canadian slides out of his jacket, handing it to a ringside attendant along with the microphone, and then sliding in under the bottom rope, coming to his feet and stepping forward to look up at the face of the much larger Frost. Funyon exits the ring as the two men stand toe to toe, face to…. Well, chest, and referee Eddy Long slides in, ready to officiate the match. Stepping in, he attempts to separate the two men, with no success, stepping back in shock as Frost plants his hand on CIA’s masked face, shoving him back hard against the ropes.

Long signals frantically, and the bell rings, as Frost marches over towards CIA, the Canadian’s body dangling over the ropes. Coming close, Frost reaches down to grab CIA, but the masked grappler leaps off his feet, using the ropes to propel his body upwards, and scissors his legs around the neck of the large M7 hoss, pulling himself over the ropes and sending Frost flying over the top rope to land with a hard smack on the mats surrounding the ring. Still dangling from the top rope, CIA pulls himself back up, flipping over the ropes into the ring, and spins about, drawing a cheer from the crowd as the enraged Icelandic giant rises to his feet on the outside, anger etched on his features. Slightly more than usual.

“And CIA starts us off with a great maneuver, using the ropes and that headscissors to send Frost to the outside. I guess he knows he’s gotta start off quick and not let up, if he wants to have a chance against the much larger Frost.”

“For once, Mark, I agree with you. CIA has no chance, and should just give up now.”

“But I didn’t…”

“Don’t deny it, Mark. Everyone heard you.”

While the two commentators continue their regular spirited style of conversation, the furious Frost pulls himself up onto the apron, glaring at CIA. Smiling, the masked warrior rushes forward, swinging out at Frost’s face with a hard elbow, but the taller man ducks back, CIA spinning around as his flying joint swishes through empty air. Moving about as quick as he can, Frost drives his fist forward, knuckles driving into the back of CIA’s skull, sending the Canadian stumbling forward to the middle of the ring. Frost tugs down the top rope, stepping over it, and raises his arm, rushing towards CIA.

Standing up, still clutching his head, CIA amazingly seems to know Frost is coming, dropping down off his feet, causing Frost’s clothesline to sail overhead. The Iceman stops immediately, turning in place as CIA rocks back onto his shoulders, kipping up, body sailing forward as Frost ‘s arm comes around, sailing into his smaller opponent’s body, causing CIA to flip over backwards, spinning as he does so, and crash, limply, to the mat.

“You did too, Mark. No stop lying and… HELL FREEZES OVER! Wow. Frost must really want to destroy this punk.”

Mark’s attention is focused back on the ring, looking up towards Frost, rolling his shoulder slightly, while CIA twitches a bit on the mat. “A very powerful move in the early going from Frost, who it seems wants to send a powerful message to CIA about getting in his way.”

“And to that dumbass Luchadore, too, about just who the man is in that ring.”

“That may well be, Riley. Now let’s see if Frost can capitalize.”

Moving slowly, but with purpose, Frost marches over to the face down CIA, bending over and grabbing hold of the waistband of CIA’s ring pants, pulling him to his feet with one hand, latching the other around the doubled over Canadian’s waist. Locking both hands together around CIA’s midsection, Frost lifts him up and back, pulling him into the air, and falling backwards, driving CIA’s shoulders and neck into the mat with a high angle German Suplex, quick and smooth. The resounding crash echoes for a moment, and a large section of the crowd boos, but Frost ignores them, coming up to his feet and driving a hard kick into the smaller man’s face, almost allowing himself a smile as the boos intensify, even going so far as to grind his heel into the maple leaf masking CIA’s face.

Reaching down again, Frost tangles his hand in the hair extending back from the opening in CIA’s mask, jerking the Canadian upright in one smooth motion, and drawing a cry of pain from the smaller man. Standing CIA up, facing away from him, Frost takes advantage of his foe’s stunned nature and spins around, driving a spinning backfist into the side of the Canadian Dream’s head and sending him stumbling off against the ropes once more.

Stevens winces, rather audibly, at this last shot, not seeming to take the beating of the Canadian Carnie very well. “Oooh, and Frost does indeed capitalize, bearing in with a series of hard shots to the head and neck of CIA, maybe trying to send the message that he’s got the power to one up CIA at his own game and still march on to a match with ELM for the world title.”

“You mean IF Magnifico can hold onto his title later tonight against the mystery man. Stubby’s a brilliant commissioner, and he surely had his reasons for denying ELM this matchup. Of course, no carnie can let his pride be wounded that way. Always have to do the stupid, brave thing.”

“I suppose your advice would be to run away quick and thank god he didn’t have to defend his title, instead of being a fighting champ?”

Riley smiles. “Sometimes, I almost think you’re catching on, Grand Spam.”

In the ring, Frost marches over towards CIA, planting his hand on the back of CIA’s head and forcing his throat down against the top rope, causing the Canadian to flail his arms, Eddy Long stepping in to make the obligatory five count. Frost turns to glare at him, and Long stumbles back for a half a second, giving Frost more time to choke CIA against the ropes.

ONE!

.

TWO!

.

”This is BLATANT cheating by Frost. He was in control, and I can’t see why he wouldn’t just fight fair.”

.

THREE!

.

Riley smirks, rebutting Stevens as best he can. “And that’s exactly why Frost is fighting this way. And besides, Stevens, you’re allowed a five count before you’re disqualified, so, by the rules, it’s not cheating until that count is complete.”

.

FOUR!

.

“Boy, you would do ANYTHING for the Magnificient Seven if they asked, wouldn’t you?”

“And why should I deny such big, strong, muscular men? *sigh*”

“Oh, I’m sorry I asked.”

.

FI…. And Frost breaks the hold, just in the nick of time, allowing CIA’s body to slump against the ropes, and not even bothering to protest his innocence, instead immediately dropping down slightly and driving his elbow across the back of CIA’s neck, causing ‘The Dream’ to recoil back off the ropes, falling flatbacked to the mat. Taking a moment, rather pompously, Frost lowers himself gingerly to the mat, laying his upper body across CIA’s, and not bothering to hook the leg. Eddy Long slides into position, and begins to make the count.

ONE!

.

TWO!

.

Long jumps to his feet, pointing towards the bottom rope, where CIA’s foot rests, saving him from the pinning situation. The fans cheer, but Frost doesn’t seem to mind, instead merely coming up to his feet, rather lazily, raising two fingers towards Eddy Long standing on the opposite side of CIA. Long shakes his head, insisting on the two count, so Frost steps closer, taking a heavy step…

Right on CIA’s throat.

The fans boo, but Long barely notices as Frost lurches back down to the mat on his other foot, CIA rolling away, and Frost turns back with a self important grin on his face. Long moves around Frost for a clear view of both men, and a fan in the front row throws his empty cup into the ring, Styrofoam bouncing off Frost’s shoulder without a glance from the big man. Frost reaches down and grabs hold of one of CIA’s legs, twisting the Canadian’s body so his masked face rests under the bottom rope, locking the smaller man’s legs at his side, and stepping in a half step, angling CIA’s body up.

“And Frost is in control, much in line with my prediction, which, as you all know are never wrong, lending to my tremendous intelligence. And now he’s locked up CIA, looking to SLAM that larynx of CIA across the bottom rope with a slingshot.”

“Which would be particularly damaging after he put his ENTIRE weight on the throat of CIA, although he DID find an inventive way of keeping the ref from noticing.”

“That’s cause Frost is a genius!”

“When it comes to cheating, you mean?”

“Wait…. There’s ANOTHER meaning?”

The patriotic wrestler’s eyes go wide as he sees the top rope looming above his face, and it seems to be too late, as Frost rears back, but CIA bends his body back like he is doing the limbo, managing to avoid the ropes, though barely, body flying up into the air. Frost, shocked, loosens his hold slightly on CIA’s legs, and goes crashing down to his back, CIA slamming down to the mat above him, knees crashing into the big man’s face, hard. CIA manages to roll away a few seconds later, and Frost slowly sits up, a loud wince of pain erupting from the audience as the Smarktron shows one cameraman’s close up of Frost’s face, nose out of joint, blood dribbling from one nostril down his cheek. Frost’s eyes burn with anger, and he quickly turns around and comes to his feet, only to be faced with the back of a still woozy CIA.

Stepping in, Frost braces his arms against the lower back of the Carnie, shoving him off towards the ropes. CIA turns and hits the ropes hard, rebounding and moving swiftly with the recoil straight towards a very angry Frost. The Canadian tries to stop his momentum, but it is of no use, as the Iceman ducks to the side, wrapping his arms around the waist of CIA and spinning his body upside down in a gutwrench. CIA’s body continues to spin, as it looks like Frost will slam him fiercely to the mat, but the Canadian reacts quickly, wrapping his arm around Frost’s head as he passes, and pulling the big man’s body down with the momentum, spiking him into the mat with a DDT. The fans cheer this move as both men lay on the mat, taking a moment to recover from the impact.

“And CIA counters frost, not once, but twice, showing quick thinking and fast body motions, most likely a positive result of spending so much time around El Luchadore Magnifico.”

Riley sneers, his voice dripping with contempt. “Oh, he may be buying himself some time, but he thinks trying to speed around Frost can win this match. Not only is he wrong, but I’ve watched both these men in the ring, and CIA actually ISN’T much faster than Frost. All he has is that damnable Carnie luck, and even that hasn’t been able to win him matches lately.”

“True, CIA lacks the speed of a Magnifico, as well as the impressive win record, recently. But he is also a skilled competitor who has gone toe to toe with the best of them. Give him SOME credit.”

After a few sconds, a slow clap starts in the upper decks of the arena, soon spreading, so it is slight, but more than noticeable. The clap speeds up, and within moments, CIA rocks back onto his shoulders, once more kipping up to his feet, and turning towards Frost, as though he is drawing energy from the crowd. The Mag 7 bruiser comes up to his feet, and CIA rears back, leaning sideways as he kicks out hard with one foot, balancing back onto his hand as his foot rockets out to catch Frost in the back of the shoulder, spinning the larger man around and sending him back a few steps. Frost steps forward, clutching his shoulder, and his smaller foe steps in, driving a left hand into Frost’s shoulder, then a right.

A few fans cheer, catching on to CIA’s actions, and the rest follow close behind as the Canadian Carnie begins to dance in place, and pantomimes throwing back a bottle of beer, elbow extended high into the air. Bringing his arm and body down and forward, CIA’s elbow slams into the shoulder of Frost, and the big man’s body lurches downward, for just half a second, before he pulls himself up to his full height and glares down at CIA, shaking slightly with anger. CIA’s eyes widen, and he draws his arm back, ready to swing out at the shoulder of Frost once more, but the Iceman throws his hand forward, clasping it around the neck of CIA and picking him up into the air in one smooth motion, CIA’s legs kicking as he writhes in the much larger man’s grip.

Holding CIA up in the air as long as he can with one hand, Frost falls forward, driving CIA’s body to the mat with a resounding crash, although afterwards, he comes up to his knees, clutching his shoulder in pain. Long quickly checks CIA, then Frost, but Frost waves him away, Rolling over onto CIA’s chest, hooking the leg on the way over. Eddy Long slides down across the mat and lifts his hand overhead to slap the mat.

ONE!

.

“Frost is hoping to get the pinfall right here, but he may have made a mistake, hefting CIA with that arm, right after the Canadian Dream focused all his attention on it.”

.

TWO!

.

“That’s just silly. Frost can manhandle CIA straight through to the finish. The only reason this isn’t over yet is because Frost is saving his real tough stuff for the straightjacket beating, afterwards. And you know what else, Ma….”

“CIA kicks out! Frost thought he had him, but he took too long to cover, and boy, are the fans happy about that!”

Indeed, the fans are going crazy, as CIA tries to get up to his feet, but once again, Frost makes it to a standing position first, stepping forward and raising his foot to slam into CIA’s spine, sending him forward hard into the corner, chest slamming into the turnbuckles. The impact from Frost’s kick is so hard that the Canadian scuttles backwards after the impact, looking like he is going to fall over. Luckily for him, hands are there to catch him. Unluckily, those hands are Frosts, as the Icelandic hoss wraps his arm around CIA’s throat from overhead, picking the smaller man up with his good arm and dropping back, planting the face’s head in the mat with a sickening inverted DDT, rolling the now facedown CIA over onto his back.

Kneeling by CIA’s head, Frost pulls both of the Canadian’s arms across his chest, holding his upper body down for the pin. Eddy long is already in place, and he begins to make the count, fans booing with each smack of his hand against the Canvas.

ONE!

.

“This may be too much for the courageous Canadian. Will Frost get his five minutes of payback, and his match With Magnifico?”

.

TWO!

.

“That’s right, Mark, it’s all over now. Frost has had this match in the bag from the very beginning, and it’s just about…..”

.

THREE…….. KICKOUT!

CIA rolls his body back in the last moment, sliding his legs in under the upper arms of Frost, and pulling his body forward and over, sending the big man’s back crashing to the mat, and grabbing hold of one of his legs before it can fall to the mat. Frost kicks and writhes, trying to get out of the pinning position, and Eddy Long quickly shifts positions, watching the pinfall once again. This time, the fans cheer along with each count.

ONE!

.

“What a reversal! CIA has Frost all tied up, and that took the big man by surprise.”

.

TWO!

.

“There’s no way his stupid carnie tricks can beat that big hunk of man!”

.

TH… KICKOUT!

Frost kicks out hard, and CIA rolls backwards, onto his knees. The Iceman sit sup, and CIA quickly leaps to, and off, his feet, flying forward to slam one foot into the back of Frost’s skull, the other slamming into Frost’s already wounded right shoulder. The lumbering master of the Early Winter is shocked forward, and then his body snaps back, crashing to the mat again as he raises his left arm to hold tightly to the back of his head, clearly in pain. CIA rolls to the ropes and pulls himself up to his feet, finally having a chance to recover. Frost begins to sit up again, but the Canadian rushes across to midring, dropping off his feet and driving his knees into the shoulder of Frost, finally drawing a cry of pain from the much larger man, and causing him to fall to his back once more.

Reaching down, now in control, CIA grabs hold of Frost’s arm, pulling him to his feet harshly. Frost lifts himself up off the mat, if only to relieve the pull on his arm. CIA waits till Frost is on one knee, and he jerks hard at the Iceman’s arm, driving his own shoulder forward to collide with Frost’s, point first. Frost reels back, and CIA repeats the motion, again, and again. The larger man cries out in pain, lifting himself all the way to his feet, and as CIA jerks on the arm again, Frost lurches forward, raising his free arm to try and knock the Canadian’s masked head off his shoulders. Unfortunately for the Mag 7 member, CIA moves too quickly, ducking under the outstretched arm and releasing Frost. The big man spins around in surprise, and CIA throws his body forward and up, slamming his forearm into the throat of Frost, and following through, bearing the larger man to the ground. The fans cheer, and CIA rises to his feet, pointing down at Frost and yelling triumphantly, patting his forearm hard.

“And CIA shows the big man he can bring him down with a Lariat too. Looks like these two both want to one up each other desperately, and both men have so much riding on the outcome of this match.”

“It’s an abomination, Mark, to see some talentless Canadian pipsqueak assaulting a fine, upstanding Citizen like Frost in this manner.”

“Upstanding? Last week he STEPPED on a boy scout trying to help an old lady across the street.”

“It was an accident.”

“HE WORE THE KID’S OUTFIT ON HIS SHOE, AND LAUGHED FOR A WEEK.”

“Dark sense of humour?”

Pulling Frost up by the hair, CIA pulls him to a doubled over position, and drives his knee upward into Frost’s shoulder, once, twice, three times…. By the time he gets to ten, the whole crowd is chanting along, and Frost looks ready to fall over, his arm hanging almost limp as CIA finally lets him go, running off towards the ropes behind the Iceman. Frost clutches his shoulder and stands up a bit, but CIA rushes towards him from the rear, leapfrogging over the big man’s back, and grabbing hold of Frost’s head as he sails over, slamming the big man to the canvas with a bulldog. Turning back, CIA rolls Frost over as quickly as he can, fumbling slightly with the larger man’s girth, and then throws his body on top for the pin, Eddy Long getting into position.

“ONE!

.

“Oh, please lord, hear my pray, let thine servant’s words come to being. Save Frost from this ultimate embarrassment…”

.

TWO!

.

“He’s not gonna listen, Riley. You’ve broken more commandments than the population of Las Vegas. Now I want to see this.”

.

THREE!

NO! Frost kicks out, at the last second, fans booing madly, many standing up in their seats, especially Boy Scout troop 382. Still, the match is not over, and CIA wastes no time arguing with the ref, instead, he reaches down and grabs Frost’s arm, pulling him up to his feet as he rises, and locks in a half nelson. The fans cheer, most of them, as a few are still unfamiliar with this setup, but Mark Stevens certainly knows what CIA is going for.

“The VIA RAIL! CIA Is going for it, and if he hits it, there’s no way this match will be…”

Riley speaks up, sounding surprisingly confident. “Not a chance, Hand Spam.”

In the ring, CIA grapevines Frost’s leg, and is about to throw his body forward, when suddenly the big man throws his arm upwards, hitting a hiptoss on the smaller grappler, sending him quite high into the air, and smiling as he crashes down to the mat. With a slight chuckle, Frost rotates his left arm, the one CIA tied up in his haste, allowing Frost to escape the attempted VIA Rail.

“Crucial mistake by your little Canadian buddy, Mark. And I knew before you did. Aren’t you supposed to be the scientific wrestling expert of the duo?”

“Oh, shut up, Riley. Yeah, CIA made a big mistake there, and it’ll probably cost him, but we’ll have to see. Frost’s arm is still in bad shape, and we don’t know how that will affect any attempts at the Early Winter.”

Stepping forward, Frost grinds his boot into the back of CIA’s throat, twisting and turning the heel. Eddy long begins a count, but as soon as he gets to four, Frost jumps a half a foot into the air, driving his foot down again, hard, and once again he begins to grind down with his full weight. Long finally gives Frost a shove, sending the big man half a foot back, and Frost turns to menace him with a glare. CIA coughs, quite loud, and Frost’s attention is drawn back, so he faces the downed Carnie, leaning over to scoop him up with his left arm. CIA comes to his feet, still coughing and hacking, one hand on his throat, and Frost pushes him back, tugging on his arm and whipping him off hard towards the ropes. CIA bounds across the ring, just able to turn around and rebound off the opposite ropes, flying towards Frost.

The Iceman smiles, and pivots forward, slamming his fist into CIA’s chest. His right fist. CIA lets out a loud cough and drops to his knees, looking ready to hack up a lung. Frost groans and grits his teeth, but doesn’t let the pain stop him as he reaches down and underhooks both of CIA’s arms, pulling the Canadian up to his feet, head trapped between Frost’s legs. Lifting up hard, Frost flips CIA onto his shoulders, lifting him up as high as he can for a powerbomb.

“Touch of Frost! Early Winter Coming up to put this Carnie crook away for good. That’ll show him, taking a win over Frost so cheaply. And he was trying to be nice by going easy on the freak!”

“Yes, but Frost just made a big mistake by using the Touch of Frost with that injured arm. And it takes a lot of power to get a man up with a double underhook, as a match goes on.”

Though Frost cannot hear Mark Stevens, his grip falters at exactly that moment, his weakened right arm slipping from the hold, and CIA is free, at the apex of the powerbomb. Frost has just begun to Swing down, but the Canadian is quick enough to flip backwards, able to break the hold from Frost’s other arm, and flip his body down, head sailing between Frost’s legs, his feet scissored tight behind Frost’s neck. The big man goes flying, and a huge cheer erupts from the crowd as the Canadian escapes. CIA turns around as he comes to his knees, seeing Frost in the middle of the ring. Clutching his throat, CIA moves swiftly, running to the corner of the ring, and placinghis free hand on the top turnbuckle. Leaping off his feet, CIA manages to pull himself up with just one hand, boots coming to rest on either side of the turnbuckle pad.

Without a single look back, CIA launches himself backwards and into the air, flipping and spinning with as much gusto as his beaten body can muster. Though he doesn’t get much height, the thud of his landing echoes well, and the fans erupt with cheers as his elbow drives into the chest and shoulder of Frost. Bouncing up with the impact, CIA’s beaten body comes up to it’s knees for a single moment before he collapses, one hand clutching his throat, the other draped across Frost’s body.

“AIR CANADA! CIA escapes the early winter, only to counter with the finest high flying finisher this side of Mexico! I don’t think Frost will be able to muster the strength to get out of this one, Bobby!”

Eddy Long slides into position as Mark Stevens speaks, eyes locked on Frost’s shoulders, flat on the canvas. His hand rises, and a few fans rise out of their seats for a better view, one or two flashbulbs still going off in the audience, aftermath of CIA’s clumsy, but still effective flight.

ONE!

.

“Oh, lord. It can’t end for Frost this way. That damned Luchadore is ducking him, and he’s stopped cold by a….. god, I can’t even say it. A CANADIAN?”

.

TWO!

.

THREE!

*DING DING DING*

”Believe it, Bobby! These fans are on their feet, the Rollercoaster is rocking the house, and the midnight carnival picks up a truly impressive victory courtesy of the Canadian import. The Dream is alive and well, folks, though the Iceman from Iceland gave him the fight of his life tonight. And the show’s not over, either, as our men are making their way into the ring with Frost’s straightjacket, ready to usher the huge monster into CIA’s own personal five minutes from hell!”

Indeed, the fans are ecstatic, almost dancing in the aisles, and the Smarktron blares a large image, 5:00 standing out in bright blue letters for all to see. As the ring attendants rush into the ring, CIA rolls over, and Frost comes up to a seated position, arm hanging a his side, eyes wide with disbelief at the sudden realization that he has lost, that the world title has slipped out of his grip, and that many men are coming for him with a straightjacket. The monstrous man rises to his feet, and swings out with his good arm, flattening the first ringside attendant to approach him, only to be brought down by three more, his body grabbed, and stuffed roughly into the constrictive clothing, against his own attempts to escape. As all this is happening, two more attendants appear from the backstage, one carrying a small television in one hand, and a tape recorder with a pair of earphones in the other. Following closely behind, the second attendant unrolls powerline, both men quickly reaching the ring.

“No, Mark…… it’s just… it’s not right. What horrid, monstrous, insidious…. FACE LIKE horror could CIA have for Frost. He’s too much of a goody two shoes to beat on a defenseless man, isn’t he?”

In the ring, CIA has rolled over and come up to his hands and knees as the attendants strap Frost’s arms behind his back, and attempt to lock him in tight. CIA rolls over to the side of the ring, motioning to Mark Stevens for something. Grand Slam stands in his seat, and throws three objects into the ring. CIA catches all three, setting two down beside himself, and raising the third, a microphone, to his lips. Frost writhes and kicks in the middle of the ring, but the attendants succeed in locking in his straps, and the others seem to have set up the TV and stereo successfully. The fans are hurling insults and epitaphs at Frost, but they cease as CIA’s voice cuts through the arena, hoarse and rasp.

“Sorry, there, big man, about your face, eh? But in a minute, you’re gonna forget all about that. Just keep that tag title warm for me, cause tomorrow night I’ll be picking a partner especially for you and your boss, eh. But for now, enjoy….” CIA reaches down, grabbing the other two objects off the map. He tosses them to the attendants by the TV as the clock begins to tick down, one videotape, and one audio tape. “The best of the teletubbies, and a five minute loop of it’s a small world after all. Gentlemen?”

Plugging in the tape, the attendants turn Frost towards the television, holding him in place, and the small set flickers to life as the headphones are jammed down onto Frost’s head. Within moments, Frost is twitiching in place, and trying to close his eyes.

Bobby Riley is heard to remark, as CIA rolls out of the ring and begins to walk tiredly up the ramp, looking up at the remaining four minutes on the clock. “Oh, god, the horror. Mark Stevens, how could you help do that to any man?”

“Sometimes, Bobby, we SWF fans all gotta have a little Carnie Pride.”

“That is repulsive. I can’t watch.”

Frost shakes in the middle of the ring as CIA disappears to the backstage, and fights against the attendants, with little luck.

“Ladies and gentleman, Frost may have to be subjected to this, but you don’t. We’ve got a great top of the card still lined up for you, including that other masked Carnie, ELM, defending the world title as the cherry on this little sundae. Bobby, do you have anything to add?”

The camera cuts to a closeup of Frost’s face, a rictus of horror, as he fights and kicks, four men now fighting to hold him in place. Riley’s voice sounds defeated as he speaks. “You should all be ashamed of yourselves.”

With that, the cameras cut away from the action, taking us to a PPV advertisement for the SWF’s next exciting monthly extravaganza. Won’t that be FUN?

December 2, 2002

…and we’re back. From the video package, and adverts for upcoming house-show dates, the camera returns, focused totally on the SWF ring. The dull sounds of the fans can be heard in the background, most already tired after an hour and a half of cheering, booing, and pouring their emotions out on the actions they’ve seen this night. The indecipherable sounds of the PPV theme rock behind it all, as a familiar voice picks up…

“The ring... it’s where hero’s are made, careers defined, and moments indelibly etched in time. The men who fight there are the king’s of fighters… it could be said they transcend mere mortality, if only for the ability to twist our own emotions. They can make us laugh, make us cry… make us angry, and make us celebrate.” Pause. “And tonight… tonight has been their showcase! It’s been an emotional rollercoaster ride indeed, and several unforgettable moments have already passed us by! And what’s more, this night isn’t even over!”

The voice finishes with a dramatic, and enthusiastic pique, as… well, as a second voice yawns. “Ah… Stevens, are you finally finished?” Bobby Riley chides, as the focuses in on the announcer’s table, showing Riley holding his head in his hands, glaring up at “Grand Slam” Mark Stevens. “Mark, I figure I should tell you now before you go try to write a book or something. You absolutely *suck* at waxing the philosophical.”

“Well, Riley.” Mark sounds irked. “I’m nobody’s poet, but I didn’t think that was half bad.”

“I’ve heard better ‘poetry’ out of Jeff Hardy.”

Silence.

“Well, I’m not too surprised you consider yourself a poetic connoisseur. Complements your surprising interior design and fashion skills, no?”

“…shut up!”

Mark smirks, notching down another tally for himself, before turning to the camera. “Annnnyway, coming up next, we’ve got the first of our ‘mystery men’ matches for this evening! Of course, as if that’s doesn’t make this match interesting enough, it’s also a three-way dance for the No.1 contendership to the ICTV title.”

“Who are the competitors, you ask?” Bobby takes the words out of the crowd’s mouth (Showing restraint not to insert other things.) “Why, none other than the hard working, more than deserving, certain to mop the floor with the competition Tod deKindes, and the recently returned loser scrub Alex Zenon.”

“Right.” Mark rolls his eyes. “And Bobby, I should be quick to point out the always-ambiguous ‘?’ is a competitor in this match, and I’m a little surprised you don’t think he’s going to factor into a ‘sure win’ for deKindes.”

“Pwah! Mark, I’ve got good money on this being Chris Storm.”

“Well, a fool and his money are soon parted.” Riley glares at the smirking Stevens, but Funyon abruptly takes hold of everyone’s attention, seizing any potential violence. The crowd chatter dies out, and music fades, and Funyon flicks the lapels of his maroon, tailed tuxedo, before booming…

“Ladies and gentlemen! The following match, is a THREE-WAY DANCE, to determine the number one contender to the Intercontinental-Television championship!” He pauses at the slight cheers, then continues. “The first competitor to be pinned must make his way to the back, as the remaining two will battle until pinfall, submission, or knockout! Introducing first…”

At Funyon’s beckoning, the lights begin to strobe, filling the arena with stattico bursts of light, matching the creepy beat of the song… Static-X’s “Cold” rocks The Frank Erwin Center, as the crowd boos violently. Smoke billowing from the entranceway as if it was raging with fire, Tod deKindes steps out from the back and onto the ramp, cutting a swath through the smoke, shades glinting, trench coat fluttering dramatically. The former US champion throws a cocky smirk to the crowd from under the smarktron, which is illuminated with his finest moments. Slowly he starts down to the ring, taking extra time to throw a few waves into the crowd…

“Now making his way down the aisle, from Toronto, Ontario, Canada! He weighs in tonight at 225 pounds, and the self-proclaimed LAST surviving member of XF9… but don’t ask about enrollment, because it’s too cool for YOU to join… ladies and gentlement, TOD… DE… KINDES!!”

The crowd redoubles their jeering effort at his introduction, as Tod smiles at the bottom of the ramp, giving a nod to Funyon. He makes his way up the steps and into the ring, as Riley speaks up… “You know something, Stevens… I’ve always liked Tod, and appreciated him for the hard worker that he is.”

“Uh-huh…” Mark rests his chin in his palm. “Riley, I’m sure I’ve heard this before.”

“No, really! And you know what’s even better than the fact he’s going to clean house in this match?” Eggs Bobby.

Mark sighs, but plays along. “No, Riley. What is it?”

“He’s been given a PERSONAL lecture from Tom Flesher about how to get Funyon to introduce him!”

As Mark shakes his head, Tod steps up on one of the turnbuckles, making a great show of pointing his fingers at his chest in a display of uber-arrogance. As the crowd continues to rain hate on him, he discards his trench coat and sunglasses to a nearby ring attendant, then takes up residence against the ropes, leaning back on them… as the creepy rhythms of “Cold” fade away, and the houselights drop. The crowd roars. They’ve only seen it once before, but they know who’s entrance this is. 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…

“Here we go, Riley!”

“Bah.”

BOOM! The guitars drop, and the arena is filled with every colour in the rainbow, as spotlights search the crowd! With the stage is illuminated by an ever-changing pallet of colour, Alex Zenon slowly steps from the curtain, head down. The crowd lets loose with a big pop, as Funyon picks up his introducing…

“Next, hailing from The Meadowlands in Trenton, New Jersey… he weighs in tonight at 229 pounds… ladies and gentlemen, ALEX… ZEEENOOOON!!”

He flips his long hair out of his eyes, and stares directly down at Tod, who returns it with a smirk, beckoning Zenon to come join him. Alex exhales, remembering what Tod said to him before the match… shaking his head, he makes his way down, and the camera cuts to an upper-mezzanine shot of the rampway, the lyrics calling in the background…

“Driven by a strange desire…

I want… what I need

Shaking as the sex takes hold…

I lost… all control…

Temptation!

Drowing in a sea of rage

I taste… the embrace

Helpless as it steers my soul

I lost… all control

Temptation!

It never lets me down…”

“Hmph” Riley still doesn’t sound impressed. “Mark, I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, a spiffy new entrance does not a new man make. I’m still convinced that Zenon is a flake.”

“Uh-huh… I don’t know, Bobby, you sounded pretty convinced after his Storm match.”

Bobby blanches. “That… that was before I thought it out! Besides, it was against Xero! How much bearing does he have on anyone else in the fed?”

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 onto it and stands on first and second turnbuckles, absorbing the crowd… finally, he discards his jacket to an attendant, and hops into the ring, focusing back on deKindes, who merely grins. Tod wastes nary a second with his attention on Alex, looking back at the entrance…

“You know, you see it a lot in three way matches, with the first two men in the ring going at it before the third even arrives, but not here.” Mark observes. “Obviously, both of them are really curious as to who this mystery man is.”

“Well, they’re just setting themselves up for disappointment.” Shrugs Bobby. “I told you, it’s going to be Alex Cross.”

“Did you say Chris Storm earlier?”

“…uhh…”

The crowds cheering for Zenon washes away, replaced by an anticipating hush, as they look toward the entrance… silence hangs in the air… waiting… waiting… waiting… for just the right moment…

Suddenly, the lights red. And a very unfamiliar guitar rhythm begins…The rest of the band starts playing, and the raspy voice of Shifty Shellshock begins rapping the first verse of Crazy Town’s “Decorated”. Riley throws a fit.

“Oh my god! Mark! Hip-hop! IT’S THUGG!”

*whack!*

“Riley, you’re such an idiot.”

“Oww…” Bobby rubs the back of his head. “Well, what about Perfect Bo! Bo! MARK IT’S--” Riley promptly shuts up as Mark raises his hand again.

As the commentators chatter, a cloud of fog starts to roll out from behind the curtain at the top of the ramp as the chorus approaches…

And I’ve got pills for the pain (Pills for the pain)

Deep down inside I’ve got a chilling refrain (I’m going insane)

These crazy thoughts keep running ‘round in my brain

They’re leading me to places decorated in flames

Dec-dec-dec-dec-dec-decorated in flames..

An explosion of red pyrotechnics at ringside and at the top of the ramp punctuates the chorus as a figure cuts a swath through the smoke… tallish, with a definite wrestlers build, though the bald head doesn’t ring any bells. He’s shirtless, which shows off his heavily-tattooed upper body. His pants are long and red, which black ankhs impressioned on the legs…

Although, the black-haired girl with the “Bikini Kill” sweatshirt besides him sort of gives it away.

In the ring, realization dawns on Tod and Alex a moment before the announcer’s and fans. Tod grins and chuckles, but Alex… Zenon’s eyes widen, as he looks down the aisle in stunned silence. “Oh, my god…”

“Oh my god!” Shouts Mark! “It’s Si--”

“Silent!” Echoes Riley, before applying his smug expression. “See? I told you, Mark.”

Stevens buries his face in his hands, and Funyon raises the mic, and polishes off his introductions. “And finally, their opponent! Hailing from Phoenix, Arizona, and weighing in at 247 pounds… being accompanied by Angel, he is making his return to the SWF, NATHANIEL… KIBAGAMMMIIIII!!”

The cheers, as they always are for those who return, are extreme. Nathan’s cool exterior cracks for a moment—but only a moment—as he stares through the crowd, the arena, at the announcer’s… and finally his opponents. He suppresses the shiver. Shaking it off, Kibagami purposefully strides down to ringside, ignoring the wails of the crowd on the aisle and the several who hold their hands out, and slides into the ring underneath the bottom rope. Angel giver her man a quick peck, before bounding to a safer cheerleading position by the stairs next to the Spanish announce table. Nathaniel leaps onto the second turnbuckle and extends his arms briefly in the familiar crucifix pose as the lights come up and “Decorated” begins to fade out…

“Wow, Riley! With the mystery man revealed as Silent, this crowd is absolutely nuts! It’s hard to believe they were booing him so passionately not three months ago…” Mark notes.

“I’m lukewarm, Stevens.” Begins Riley. “I mean, Silent was a badass bone crushing, head dropping, murderous clan maniac before he left. But… now he’s got a WOMAN! And he’s going by his real name! What if he’s gone soft!?”

Mark rolls his eyes. “You never fail to amaze me, Bobby. And I’m sure you’re just crushed that Silent—pardon, Nathaniel has a woman.”

“…what the hell is that supposed to mean!?”

Mark smiles, nothing another point for himself. In the ring, referee Nick Soapdish explains the rules to the three competitors, before backing off and calling for the bell…

**DING! DING! DING!**

“And in the immortal words of Stevie-Ray, “It’s on like Donkey Kong!” ”

“…I can’t believe you just said that, Mark.”

Kibagami slides off the turnbuckle and looks at his two opponents… who greet him with less than welcoming expressions. The man formerly known as Silent shrugs, and smoothly steps into the centre of the ring, beckoning the other two to engage in a triple-lockup with him. Alex and Tod stare at Nathan tentatively… before Alex takes one careful step towards him, and then another, with Tod following suit. All three men, mere feet away from one another, reach out their hands… as Alex and Nathan lock fingers. Alex and Kibagami reach out for deKindes… who has already registered their clasped hands. In a flash, Tod pulls away from the grasp of the other two men, and fires a quick kick into the shin of Zenon! Alex stumbles away, shaking out his leg, as Tod shoots a second kick into the leg of Kibagami, and then another into Alex’s, just for symmetry.

Mark speaks up, “Tod using a couple dishonourable tactics to hold Nathan and Alex at bay off the lockup… The change in his demeanor over the past month has been stark and shocking.”

“Dishonourable?” Questions Riley. “Hardly, Stevens. Weather you consider him ‘eVil’ now or not, you have to admit you’d do the same thing in his position.”

Mark scoffs, “Riley, a true athlete takes the lockup, and then gains control with a hold of some kin…” Mark trails off, noticing action in the ring. “Regardless, deKindes bounces himself off the ropes, and into the menagerie of Zenon and Kibagami, trying for a double-clothesline!”

Trying being the operative word, as Alex and Nathan quickly realize their still-locked hands, and clock the barreling deKindes with a double-clothesline! They both exchange a quick look, then brush it off, converging on their downed opponent. The former ‘Slaughterer’ peppers the German imposter’s rising figure, backing him into the ropes as he stands up, grasping his arm and whipping him off… right into the sights of Zenon, who scoops him up by the legs and holds Tod up, before dropping him roughly across the top rope, neck first! The crowd lets loose with a large cheer, as Tod grasps at his throat, coughing and hacking as he shambles away… and right into Nathan’s line-of-fire, as he BLASTS deKindes with a huge rising roundhouse kick! The crowd gives another pop as deKindes staggers backward…

“This would be a good place to remind everyone that this is an elimination three-way match, so there may be some interesting alliances made up until the first man is taken out…” Mark analyzes.

“Yeah, like Nathan and Alex… on Tod.” Riley sounds likes he’s ready to sob. “Goddamn it, that’s just not fair! He didn’t do anything wrong!”

“Riley? Lockup? Shin kicks?”

Riley ‘hmphs’ indignantly, as Tod flip-flops in a daze, reeling off of Nathan’s roundhouse kick… right back into the vicinity of Alex Zenon! Not to be outdone, Alex shakes out one hand, before bringing it violently across on the shoulder of Tod in a downwards chop! The self-proclaimed “Last surviving member of XF9” clasps at his shoulder… but is suddenly thrown back AGAIN when Zenon strikes him across the chest in a vicious knife-edged chop!

Ca-rack! “Whoooooo!” Ric Flair’s cry echoes across a crowd that is very pleased to see deKindes getting some just desserts.

Hacking, coughing, making a great show of clutching his chest, and stumbling backwards, Tod spins around slowly… and comes face to face with a smirking Natanaiel Kibagami, who rapidly pirouettes around and strikes the Germanator across the cheek with a Spinning Crecent Kick! The crowd pops louder than before, as Tod teeters in the opposite direction. Not to be outdone again, but getting slightly sick of the spectacle, Alex Zenon slights up deKindes… and balls his fist tightly, cracking him right across the jaw with a stiff haymaker! The crowd’s pop increases in decibels again, as Tod falls to his knees, and staggers back up, right into the face of… well… you know. Nathan wags a finger at Alex, and then points at deKindes in a “I’ll show you how to do it” fashion… and then patpat’s Tod’s cheel—Before DRIVING him upside the head with a sick palm strike! The crowd lets loose with the biggest pop of the match, as Tod flops backward, crashing underneath the bottom rope!

Stevens chuckles. “Heh, heh… I’ve been waiting for something like that to happen to deKindes for a little while.”

Riley chokes. “As if losing his US title to a woman wasn’t enough!? And those were closed fists! AND CLENCHED TOES!”

As Mark wonder why he accepted a salary cut to get this job, Alex and Nathan break tear their eyes from Tod’s downed figure… and lock on each other. “Oh man…” Stevens breathes, “Silent and Z have more than just a little bit of history with each other. And with Alex’s new attitude… this could explode right there.”

“Please, Mark!” Riley’s mood goes 180* from, oh, 15 seconds ago. “You remember the way those matches went, no? Silent absolutely dominated Z. Now, I may have speculated that Kibagami’s gone soft because he’s got… a woman…” Riley ‘bleh’s’. “…but you can’t honestly think he’s so far out of form he couldn’t whup *Alex Zenon*?”

“Well…”

Mark’s comment trails off, about to be answered in the ring. Nathaniel stares down Alex, icy as ever… but Alex’s demeanor is different; eyes wide, breathing heavily… the crowd hums in anticipation… and breaks off in cheers as Zenon blinks, swallows, and dives at Kibagami with a lockup! Nathan is all too happy to oblige the offer, as the jockeying for position begins! The two men push each other around the centre of the ring, with Alex getting forced back first into the ropes… and suddenly pushing away, seizing one of Nathan’s arms and winding it behind him in a hard wristlock! Alex grinds the hold, as Nathan grinds his teeth… and winces as Alex winds himself around a second time, forcibly pulling on his arm!

“And Alex Zenon has subdued Nathaniel Kibagami to one knee with a wristlock!” Mark smiles slyly toward Bobby. “Couldn’t whup Alex indeed, Mr. Bobby.”

“Blah.” Riley is dismissive. “It’s nothing but Nathan being his usual manipulative self, Marky Mark. And you ARE a mark if you think he’s not lulling Alex into a false sense of security.”

For a third time, Alex winds his way around and under Nathan’s arm, yanking it down with even more force than the last time! Nathan groans, letting his head droop down as pain shoots up and down his arm. Chatter hangs in the air from the crowd, unsure of who’s side to go on… but make up their minds by directing there attention somewhere else entirely! Alex continues to twist on the wrist lock, but turns his head as well at the crowds jeering… to see a semi-recovered Tod deKindes wobble over to his two opponents. With a nudge of his head, Alex motions toward Nathan’s other arm, as Tod nods, malicious grin oozing onto his face.

At the commentary table, Mark Stevens brow furrows slightly, as Riley coos. “Mark, you remember what you said earlier about strangle alliances being formed?” Riley laughs as Mark gives no response. “I mean, I feel kinda’ dirty rooting for Alex, but THIS is more like it!”

Tod picks up Nathan’s other arm, and coils himself around and under it, slapping a second wristlock on Kibagami! The crowd’s jeering picks up in volume, as Nathan growls in pain… Tod smiles deviously, and begins to wind around the former Clannies arm… but hears another growl. One which escalates into a roar, as Nathaniel rises full to his feet, catches both Tod and Alex sleeping as undoes the arm wrench, ducking underneath both of them and popping up behind… and using their arms as leverage to hop up and smack both square on the back with a double kick!

“And the crowd comes alive for a dopkick-esque counter out of Kibagmi!” Roots Stevens!

Both Alex and Tod trip forward, as Nathan races past both and shoots himself into the ropes, coming back—and getting cut off by a double drop-toe hold! The crowds cheering segues into boos, as Nathan slowly rights himself, clutching at his nose… and suddenly getting jumped on from behind by deKindes, who slides his hand under Kibagami’s arm, his other over Nathan’s shoulder, and locks them together for…

“The Silent Scream!” Riley squeals! “Tod scores from DOWNTOWN with an early finisher attempt! Boomshakalaka!”

Stevens does his best to no-sell that. “I wouldn’t be too sure of success, Riley! Even despite his weak neck, Nathan’s a tough cookie! I don’t think Tod will even be able to cinch it in without wearing him down first.”

“Sorry, Mark. I blanked out trying to wrap my mind around the fact you said “Tough cookie”.”

Riley’s rambling’s aside, Grand Slam’s words are prophetic. Before Tod can tighten his grip, Nathan grasps one of Tod’s arms, effectively Ippon Seionag-ing him over, and on to the mat! The crowds massive boos for Tod’s finisher as reversed into a sizable pop for Kigbagami! Nathan takes a deep breath, having dispatched the threat of Tod’s submission finisher… but is met with another as Alex charges from his waiting spot on the mat by the corner, driving into Kibagami with a hard shoulder block! Nathan looses his balance, but quickly regains his equilibrium by falling onto one knee and rising up again. But the momentary loss of focus is all Alex needs, as he grabs the returnee and throws him at the opposite ropes.

“Nathan on the rebound… and Alex slugs him solidly in the gut and clamps down a headlock! Folks, it may not look like much to you at home, but the headlock is a very effective and painful maneuver. And considering Nathan’s weak neck…”

“Oh, would you stop with the neck already?” Grumbles Riley, who’s eyes light up not a moment later at the action in-ring. “There’s more important things to worry about, like Tod clocking Zenon from behind!”

The shot to Alex’s back sends him scrambling, as deKindes follows up with two solid kicks to Alex’s back. Though not overly powerful, Alex drops down and right through the first and second rope, taking up residence in no-man’s land. Tod pays it no mind, adding a snot rocket at Alex’s fallen figure, and turning back around… into two rough palm strikes from either of Nathan’s hands! The double decking sends Tod twirling, as Nathan nastily nudges deKindes to the opposite ropes, and the writer gets a rhythm rocking! The Canadian kicksback off the ropes, running a line right at Kibagami—who drops to the canvas! Tod hops over the sprawled form of Kibagami, and returns to him, but with a plan in mind—or in motion, really—this time.

“Nathan telegraphing a railgun supex, here…” Calls Mark…

“But the Germanator smoothly slides between his legs, popping up on the other side and drilling Kibagami with a blazing jab! That sort of fast thinking is why he’s my hero, Stevens!”

“I thought Tom Flesher was your hero…”

Riley smirks. “Merely Superior, Mark. Merely Superior.”

As Grand Slam sighs, Nathan sells the punch just long enough for Tod to wrench a wrist and chuck NATHANIEL at the ropes this time! The man once known as “Silent” reverberates, as Tod sprawls himself out on the mat in much the same fashion as Nathaniel did. Nathan hops over him, bounces back, and has one arm underhooked as deKindes tries to twirl him over in a hiptoss! Nathan has none of that, standing tall despite Tod’s strength. Grumbling, deKindes stealthily pokes Nathan in the eyes, causing him to double-over, as Tod slides his legs over Kibagami’s head for a head scissors takedown… which fails completely, as Nathan stands straight up in the move! With a roar of strength, Nathan grabs hold of Tod’s legs and chest, sending him spinning as he discards him… and Tod rights himself in mid-air, landing on the shoulders of Alex Zenon, who has chosen the worst possible moment to re-enter the ring! In a fluid motion, deKindes pulls him down in a hurricane rana, as the entire audience busrts into cheers and applause for the whole series!

“What… what a display!” Cries Stevens, who sounds about ready to cheer himself!

“Well, Mark, with your limited wrestling knowledge, I didn’t expect you to be able to call any of that.” Riley bathes his words liberally in smarm.

“I didn’t hear YOU commenting on any of that, Bobby…” Mark glowers, then turns his attention back to the match. “But that’s beside the point! Tod scores a cover off that hurricanrana!”

The crowds cheers immediately drop into a hush, waiting to see if Zenon can pull out of the shock maneuver…

One!

TWO!

TH—No chance!

The crowd pops, as Tod curses his luck. Not relenting, Tod rolls away from the hold, and attempts to pick up Zenon… but gets a tap on the shoulder. He turns around—

THWACK

--and gets a mouthful of leather, courtesy of Nathaniel’s boot! Tod collapses to the canvas, and is roughly pulled over by Kibagami. Taking a step back, Nathan sizes up Tod… and then drops a hard knee directly across his chest! Tod coughs as all the air is expelled from his lungs, but Nathan keeps his knee firmly in place, leaning over and demanding the ref count it! The crowd cheers, and several count along…

One!

TWO—NO! The count is broken up in a most unorthodox method, as the recovered Alex Zenon dives overtop of Nathan, tucks his head between his legs, and uses his firm grip on his pants to force him over!

“Alex uses Kibagami’s half standing form to score a sunset flip to… well… counter a pinfall attempt!” Calls Mark.

“It’s an elimination match, you tool. Ugh… new moves or not, I don’t think Zenon’s gotten any smarter.” Bobby gripes.

Regardless, the ref starts the count again, as the crowd take part once more!

One!

TWO!

THRE—EH-EH!

“And a powerful kickout from Nathaniel. You know, of the moves in this match so far, Kibagami has most definitely taken the weakest beating.” States Mark. “Tod and Alex are going to have to do more damage if they want to eliminate him first.”

Alex curses himself, and then immediately scampers away, trying to put distance from himself and Nathan. Kibgami pops up to his feet, and noteable angry look on his face, as he serves a glare toward Alex… but his dramatic, John Woo staredown is interrupted by Tod deKindes, who despite only being half recovered, rises up just enough to grab Silent’s thigh and roll him down for an inside cradle! The ref, not getting half a second off, and counts it!

ONE!

TWO!

THRE—NOWAY!

Once again, Kibagami easily powers out of the pinning predicament, breaking the small amount of jeering in the air up with a burst of love from the fans! Starting to get a mite pissed off, Nathan hauls up Tod by his long, stringy hair. Clamping firmly around his waist, Kibagami steps back several times, more into the center of the ring, and whips Tod over in a Northern Lights Suplex! The ref counts AGAIN…

ONE!

TWO!

NO! “Tod counters the Northern Lights by bridging up and out of it! That’s a quite a feat, considering Nathan’s large strength and leverage advantage!” Hollers Stevens.

“Well, Tod’s full of things like that. I mean, he walked across a pond to heal an injured swan just to please one of his adoring Tod-Heads not a week ago, so bridging out of a suplex from Kibagami is nothing.”

“…I think you’re confusing Tod with Tom again, Riley.”

“Please. Tom would’ve parted the pond; Tod merely walks across it.”

Mark sighs. “Didn’t you like Silent, Riley?”

As Mark gets silence out of the peanut gallery, for once, slowly continuing the bridge out of Nathan’s Northern Lights Supelx… and gripping his arms around Kibagami’s waist, using it as leverage to spin himself over and stand up proper, finishing with Nathan situated in a standing headscissors! Tod takes a moment to play it up to his adoring public, and gets a thunderous wave of heat washing him over! deKindes ignores it, and goes back to Nathan before he can reverse, grasping both of his underarms and pulling him over in a…

“BACKSLIDE~!” Tildes Riley!

“Nick Soapdish isn’t going to get any rest here, it seems…”

“And as well he shouldn’t!” Barks Riley! “It’s a cover from DEKINDES! Countitcountitcountitcountit!”

Indeed, referee Soapdish drops to the mat, and begins to pound out another pinfall attempt! The crowd boos vehemently, as Tod strains to keep the backslide on!

ONE!

TWO!

THREEHEGOTHIMNOHEDIDN’T! Nathan powers out, though somewhat weaker, than his last few kickouts, and the crowd lets go another cheer! In the corner he’s been calling home for the last few minutes, Alex Zenon curses silently, watching Nathan having kicked out yet again. Deciding that now is as good a time as any for action—but first making note that Nathaniel is lying on the mat, momentarily catching his breath—Zenon charges out of his corner, ducking behind a freshly standing Tod deKindes, and hops up on his shoulders, dropping him down into a victory roll!

“And now Alex getting in on the pinning madness!”

“Damn. I was hoping he’d have removed himself from the match forever, Mark.”

“Now, Riley…” Mark engages. “If happened, he’d just end up being the last man that needs to be eliminated.”

“Shh!”

The crowd cheers for another pinfall on Tod, and much like Nick Soapdish, aren’t getting any rest at all. Said referee drops down to the canvas, and counts yet another pinfall in a long line of them!

ONE!

TWO!

THREEEE… no, Nathan breaks it up! The Germanator lies still on the mat, quite exhausted, as Alex rolls to the ropes and uses them to assist his climbing… rising right up into the eyes of Nathan Kibagami. “You know, something I’ve noticed during this match is that Alex has been extremely hesitant to engage with Nathan… he’s been passing him off for Tod to deal with, most of the time.” Mark notes.

“So? Zenon’s still a chicken wuss! Nothing new, there.” Riley nods sharply, before cracking an eye open to look at Stevens. “And as if I’m ever wrong, Mark.”

Stevens “bah’s” at Riley’s notion, returning his attention to the match. In the ring, the crowd hums with anticipation again, watcing Nathan coolly stare Alex down… and watching Alex grimace. Just the position he didn’t want to get into… Alex finds no use to complain about it now—and has to be quick on his feet to avoid a blistering Kibagami roundhouse kick! Charging to the opposite ropes, Alex reverberates back, charging at Nathan for another shoulder-block—but instead getting his head ripped clean off by a brutal lariat! The crowd “ooo’s” as Alex goes flipping 180* off the stiff shot, crashing to the ground in an unceremonious heap.

“Good LORD. Nathaniel just ripped Zenon’s head off with that clothesline!” Shouts Mark! “And he’s not done yet; he’s going to keep going, already pulling Alex to his feet.”

Slapping on a front-facelock, Nathan tires to rip Alex over in a snap suplex… but fails as Zenon blocks the move by slipping his foot behind Kibagami’s thigh. He tries a second time—but ends up with the same result, as Zenon is steadfast in blocking the move! Getting fed up, Nathan shoots a hard knee strike into Zenon’s breadbox, tightens his grip on Alex’s jeans, hauling him up for but a standard suplex…

…and almost falls over as Zenon writhes out of his grip, spinning around behind him and landing on his feet! A small pop is heard for Alex’s slight athleticism, but he can’t revel in it. Quickly, he gives the former Clannie a sound chop to the back of the neck, stunning him, and then locks his arms around his waist…

“Oh no… you’ve got to be kidding me, Mark! There’s no way he’ll get it!”

“Maybe not three months ago, Riley. But now…”

Mark trails off, and the crowd watches, as Alex actually succeeds in pulling Nathaniel Kibagami and all his 247 pounds off the mat, and holding his weight for two seconds—and then drops him to the mat with a ring-rockin’ German Suplex! The crowd pops big, still obviously undecided in who to really cheer for, as Alex strains to hold for a bridge… but just as Nick Soapdish falls to the mat, if falls apart, and Alex lets Kibagami fall away.

Riley’s mouth is agape. “God. Damn.”

Mark smiks in “I Told You So” fashion. “Well, well… Alex gets the German on Nathan with no troubles… but the 250 pounds or so comes to fault, as he can’t keep hold for a bridge.”

On the mat, Nathan groans, holding his aggravated neck in pain… next to him, Alex huffs and puffs, trying to regain his breath. Slowly, both men make it to their feet, both of them using the ropes to assist the climb as well… Alex and Natahn make it to their feet at about the same time, and look like their ready to go at one another again—but a figure interrupts another possible showdown, stepping in between the two men, snapmaring Alex over, planting a picture-perfect dropkick into his head! The simple kick must have been deceptively hard, as Zenon howls, rolling away to under the bottom rope—away from Tod and Natahn, leaving the two alone.

The crowd doesn’t seem to really notice or care, more concerned with booing the shit out of Tod for his continued existence. Making sure Kibagami can’t react as well, deKindes kicks him square in the ribs, and then tees-off with Nathan’s head, blitzing him with jabs, left and right! The crowd continues to pour hate into the ring, and Tod continues to brush them off, finally finished tenderizing Nathan’s face, and pulling him up to whip him into the ropes!

“Nathaniel tosses into the ropes once again, and reverberates back to deKindes… but Nathan’s got enough sense to try for a flying body press!” Screams Mark!

The crowd cheers for about .5 seconds, until…

“ ‘Got enough sense’? What are you on, Stevens!? Nathan should’ve done his scouting report better, because…”

-Wham!-

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!”

“…Your German hero and mine just countered it into the Formula for failure!” Riley laughs with disturbing glee.

Rolling around and to his feet, Tod takes a moment to look at Kibagami… and grins, looming over him and jaw jacking with a painfully cocky “Aw, HELL no!”, before dropping his forearm across Nathan’s face, and grinding it in soundly! The crowd’s chorus of boos amplifies, as Kibagmi writhes weakly under the grind. Satisfied with his efforts after a few moments, Tod leans down and covers Nathan laterally!

ONE!

TWO!

THREEEEEENOOOO!

Nathan powers out with a huge kickout, getting a large pop for his efforts! Tod screams and claws at his hair, frustrated that didn’t get the job done! Redoubling his effort, the Germanator SLAMS his forearm right into the face of Kigbagami, and then reaches over, making sure to hook the leg this time!

“Tod taking a couple pages out of William Regal’s playbook…” Mark’s words drip with slight disgust, “…regardless, he’s down on Nathan with yet another[/i multiple cover! Count!”

ONE!

TWO!

THREEEEEEEEE…. NO!

Barely, just BARELY, Nathaniel throws a shoulder off the mat, breaking the count all causing zebra Nick Soapdish to throw his arm away, flipping himself around hilariously to avoid counting the three! He shoots two fingers up into the air, as the crowd ROARS with poppage! Nathan rolls away, trying desperately to catch his breath, as deKindes argues with the ref, absolutely infuriated! On the ring apron, Alex Zenon massages his temples, looking miserable. He sighs, and looks at the tantrum throwing Tod…

“Tod is, in a word, INCREDIBLY pissed off with the ref right now!” Says Mark. “Hell, I think he just threatened to hit him!”

“And, frankly Stevens, he deserves it.” Riley rants. “I mean, did you SEE that slow count!? Do we even screen these guys before we hire them? It’s a TRAVESTY he’d get DQed for hitting him!”

As deKindes continues to go on a tirade, having already run down the ref’s foul smell, hideous fashion sense, and poor genetic makeup in general, he is interrupted by a sudden, sharp whistle… Tod turns to the source of the sound—and sees nothing. Besides a shadow rapidly converging on him, that is! Alex Zenon, having just springboarded off the ropes, flips, and brings the heel of his foot down HARD on Tod’s forehead! The crowd roars with yet another pop!

“Crack Shoot.” Calls… Riley, of all people. “God. Where’s Geese Howard when you really need him?”

“Falling off a building, probably.” Mark quips, before hurriedly continuing on. “Erm… anyway, Tod just can’t catch a break tonight! He’s probably taken more punishment than anyone else in the match!”

“Yeah, and on top of that, some OBVIOUSLY BIASED REFFING…”

Mark sighs, as in the ring, a triple-count situation appears. The crowd begins to buzz, everyone one of them wondering which man will rise first…

“ONE!”

Nothing.

“TWO!”

Nothing.

“THREE!”

Something. Alex twitches, and slooooooooooowly turns himself over.

“FOUR!”

Alex props himself up with his hands, as Tod begins to stir, slowly pulling himself to the ropes…

“FIVE!”

Alex gets to one knee, shaking his head out, as Tod gets up to a squat with the assist of the ropes.

“SIX!”

Alex rises full to his feet, slightly wobbly, just before Tod finishes pulling himself up to a standing position. The ref breaks the count, as the two step towards one-another…

And Nathan? Nathan slides onto his side, clacking on single eye open to survey the current happenings of the match. And through his mild pain and fatigue, he smirks.

“Alex and Tod deKindes first to their feet after the ten count,” Says Mark. “It’s not too surprising for Alex, considering he was standing on the apron for a fair bit of time.”

“Hmph. What did I tell you, Mark? A real chicken wuss. I mean, standing back and letting your opponents dismantle one another? Hey, that’s cool. But he’s not even PLOTTING ANYTHING!”

“Your honour becomes you so, Bobby…”

Dispensing with anything that would be really dramatic, Tod cracks Alex square across the face with a hard right hand! He adds a second for good measure, and a third just to get the crowd good and riled up! Alex staggers backwards, and has his hand taken as Tod attempts to Irish Whip him to the ropes… but it’s reversed as Alex shortarms the move, pulling Tod in and catching him in the gut with a chop! Tod coughs, but Alex keeps a firm hold of his wrist, striking him hard across the chest, and then ducking under his arm and going behind the Germanator, cracking him stiffly in the back of the neck with third and final chop! Tod collapses to the ground, as Alex dusts off his hands, reveling in the crowd noise, before turning around and—

THWACK

--catching a brutal running Yakuza Kick from a risen Nathaniel Kibagami!

“Toot toot!” Riley giggles. Disturbing. “All aboard the head trauma express!”

“This obsession you have with Tom Flesher is REALLY getting freaky…”

Riley shrugs; while in the ring, Nathaniel peppers Alex’s downed body with several stomps, but focuses his more immediate attention on the rising Tod deKindes. Before the Canadian is even full to his feet, Silent DRIVES the shin of his let into his face, making for yet another in the long line of brutal kicks in this match! deKindes sputters, his head ringing like 1000 church bells, as Nathan throws him to the ropes… and is forced to duck under the returning Tod, as he charges full head of steam with a clothesline! Nathan spins around and positions himself directly in front of Tod, and with nary a second of sighting, fires a smoking superkick aimed at Tod’s head…

…which he ducks out of the way from…

…leaving the rising figure of Alex Zenon right in the line of fire!! His pupils dilate, and his reaction happenes in a split-second…

“…”

For once in his life, Bobby Riley sums something up perfectly.

“HE CAUGHT IT!” Shouts Mark, considerably more vocal about his emotions than Bobby. “Alex CAUGHT the superkick! Talk about your incredible reflexes!”

“ ‘Playing a lot of video games’ indeed…” Riley grumbles, hard-pressed to believe what he’s just seen.

The crowd pops, though only slightly; and Alex Zenon himself seems to be having trouble believing what he’s just accomplished. None the less, he has no time to congratulate himself, with only seconds until Nathan gets enough of his balance back to score with the enzugiri! Alex’s eyes rapidly scan left and righ, finally focusing on the visage of Tod deKindes in the background. Making up his mind—and basically doing what he’s been doing all match—Alex shoves Nathan’s foot away hard, sending him stumbling right into the waiting arms of deKindes! The Germinator licks his lips, before slapping on a tight front-facelock, and taking a deep breath, before…

“He’s… Tod’s got Nathaniel up in a vertical suplex position!”

“And you know what that’s the lead-in for, Marky Mark!” Riley coos.

The crowd boos their hearts out, as Tod stalls with Kibagami’s body swaying in the air. Over by the ropes, Alex Zenon looks on from a knee, a lopsided smirk on his face. On Tod’s there’s a full grin in bloom—and a grimace from the effort— as he slowly lets Nathaniel cascade down his back into…

“The one… the only… CEREBRAL DRIVAAAAHHH--”

“NO!!” Mark’s voice interrupts Riley’s wailing! “His feet! Kibagami landed on his feet, effectively reversing the Cerebral Driver!”

The crowd lets loose with a huge roar of cheers and applause for the move, starting a small “KI-BA-GA-MI! *clap* *clap* *clapclapclap*” chant! Tod wavers, looking shocked and falling out of position, as Alex’s face falls onto the mat, almost with an audible thump! Tod slowly turns around, and is met by the smiling figure of Nathaniel Kibagami, who beckons deKindes to come get some.

“Nathan egging Tod on, here! I don’t know if that’s such a good idea…”

“Hm, gee. His finisher just got reversed, he’s been getting it for the entire match, and PLUS the biased reffing! Even YOU should be able to put this equation together, Stevens!”

Tod, his shock slowly mixing into rage, is all too happy to oblige, running right at Nathan!

Big mistake.

In a flash, Nathan underhooks Tod’s arm, and using his momentum against him, flips him up in a hiptoss and bounces him off the top rope, rapidly changing position so that Tod reverberates onto his shoulder… so he can be easily jackknifed down in a MALICIOUS powerbomb! Tod splatters into the mat like fresh fruit, and Nathaniel quickly folds him over into a ‘slide’ eque pin! The referee counts!

“Whattamaneuver!” Cries Mark, “An absolutely massive Folding Powerbomb made possible off a slingshot…! I don’t have the foggiest how Tod’s supposed to kick out with shock factor… and the sheer power of that move!”

Bobby quivers. “He… he will, Mark!”

ONE! The crowd chants along loudly! By the ropes, Alex Zenon shakes the shock out of his own head, and realizes he has to do something NOW.

“He… he WILL!”

TWO!!

Alex quickly charges at toward the pinning predicament, diving toward them…

If he misses, it’s going to be him and Nathaniel to finish this.

Go… deeper!

THREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE….

“NONONOHEDIDN’TGETHIM!!” ‘Grand Slam’ Mark Stevens words are jumbled badly as the shock of the moment catches up to him!

Riley, on the other hand, exhales deeply. “He… he didn’t get him. Whew.”

As the two clear the cobwebs, the realization dawns on Mark. “Alex… leapt across the ring and scored an elbow drop to stop Nathan from eliminating Tod! Is he really that afraid of facing Nathaniel?”

“Fear, adrenaline, stupidity… whatever, Mark!” Riley shrugs. “It doesn’t make a hill of beans to me, as long as Tod’s still in this thing!”

He pauses.

“Although, I can’t say I’m totally opposed to Zenon’s new attitude.”

Figures, thinks Mark, as he returns to watching the match. The crowd is… well, the crowd is raining boos down to the ring pretty fiercely at the moment. In a huff, Nathan steps up to Alex, yelling obscenities at him for costing him the elimination! Fire in his eyes, Nathan gives Alex a hard shove away! Alex grits his teeth…a and returns it with an equally hard shove of his own! The crowd boos a little; as Nathan grits his teeth… and lets loose with a stunningly powerful roundhouse kick… that misses completely, as Zenon ducks out of the way! Nathaniel is left wobbling for a moment, looking foolish… as Alex takes this moment to grapple up with him, throwing his hastily thought up plan into action! With a sharp knee to the breadbox, Kibagami doubles-over, and Alex slaps on a front-facelock! Alex keeps the hold in place as he eyes a rising Tod deKindes…

“Now what’s he doing?” Mark sounds perturbed. “Alex is… well, he’s inviting deKindes to help him do something!”

“Hmm…” Riley thinks. “You know, Mark, maybe I was wrong about him not having any plans.”

Goggily, Tod makes his way over to Alex, and adds up his position, and the struggling Alex… before ducking down underneath Nathan, and grasping his arm, pulling it through his legs in a pumphandle! With a sneer, Tod looks up at Alex… and weakly punches him, sending Alex diving ludicrously out of the ring!

“Pulled a Forsberg there…” Stevens mutters.

“Mm… I don’t know, the style looked distinctly influenced by Hasek to me.” Quips Riley.

With Zenon out of the way, and Nathaniel in this position, the result is elementary… cutting through the booing crowd, deKindes pushes aside Kibagami’s arm, and pulls him up onto his shoulder in a pumphandle slam position… and then drives him down to the canvas hard with the German Wet Dream Machine! Nathaniel’s neck makes a dull ‘thud’ on impact, as Tod slowly crawls on top of him, pulling up a leg for a cover, as the crowd potests with vicious boos…

ONE!

“No…” Mark starts

“Yes!” Riley jumps

TWO!!

“It shouldn’t be like this, Riley.”

“To hell with ‘shouldn’t’! Tod’s pulling out the first pinfall regardless!”

THREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE…!!!

**DING! DING! DING!**

“Dammit.”

After such a long delay, Funyon picks up his mic, barely heard above the ire-throwing crowd! “Ladies and gentlemen, the first elimination, by pinfall… NATHANIEL… KIBAGAMI!!”

The crowd re-doubles their booing effort, as Tod rolls off of Nathan. Several other refs and road agents rush to the ring to help Kibagami up, and escort him to the back… as Tod turns his attention from them, and stares down at Alex Zenon, outside the ring.

“Well… Nathan’s return doesn’t go as well as he planned, obviously, as a somewhat sneaky trick puts him down for the count.” Recaps Mark. “Though… it sorta makes me wonder how much about Alex has changed over the past three months. I think it’s a little more than his in-ring style…”

“Oh, so he does a little bit of cheating.” Bobby dismisses, “Big deal, all that matters is that Tod’s still in this thing, and he’s another Wet Dream Machine from his ICTV title!”

“Right.”

Mark rolls his eyes; as back in the ring, Alex slowly makes his way back in, under the bottom ropes… and gets a liberal peppering of stomps from deKindes, as a warm and fuzzy ‘how’s she goin?’. Despite the kicking, Alex crawls up to his feet, and sees Tod’s hard right hook targeted at his head, and brings up his forearm, neatly blocking it! With his free hand, he swipes at Tod’s chest with a downward chop, quickly following that up with a horizontal one, cutting a slash into his chest! The crowd, getting settles back in after seeing the man they had so rallied behind in this match defeated, give a lackluster ‘whoo’. Finished with his striking, Alex immediately attempts to Irish Whip the falsified foreigner (Well… unless you consider Canada really ‘foreign.’) into the ropes—reversed by deKindes!

“Tod reverses the Irish Whip, shooting Zenon off the ropes like a rubber band… and rocks his world with a massive Powerslam on the return!” Yells “Grand Slam”!

“Huge move!” Riley follows up! “And Tod immediately chimes in with a cover!”

The crowd, with Nathan’s defeat still fresh in their minds, start their usual booing serenade, directed at Mr. Tod. Regardless, the leg is hooked, and the rferee goes down to count…

ONE!

TWO!

THREEEEEE-NO!

“And Alex powers out!” Calls Mark! “You know, Riley, we didn’t make a point of this, but Zenon himself hasn’t been on the receiving end of a lot of punishment in this match. It may take some time for Tod to really wear him down.”

“Yeah, it’s hard to hit a guy when he spends half the match avoiding everyone.”

“…I thought I was supposed to point that out.”

“Well, yeah.” Riley shrugs. “But that was when he was facing Nathan, now he’s facing Tod. I mean, get with the program, geez.”

Tod curses the ref again, opting to pull up Alex opposed to going for another multiple cover, which has been so popular during this match. Aiming for a turnbuckle, Tod shoots Alex toward it… but this time, the conniving Canadian is on the receiving end of an irish whip reversal, and himself sent barreling at the post! The crowd pops ever so slightly, as Alex follows up by stalking to the post carefully… and winding himself around Tod’s arm, pointing skyward.

“Uh-oh… you know what this means, Riley!”

“Yeah, ropewalk of impending botchiness. Maybe he’ll actually hit it this time.”

The crowd pop rises again, growing as Alex steps up to the second turnbuckle… and then the top, taking a tentative step onto it! Alex bounces to get his balance, before walking out onto the ropes, one cautious foot at a time! Finally, about half-way down the rope, Alex surveys the (mostly) cheering corwd, before leaping off… and driving his elbow hard into the neck of deKindes! A decent cheer rises up from the audience, still not sure if they should totally get behind Alex again, after his actions earlier…

At the commentary table, Bobby frowns as Mark shoots him a smirk. “Impending botchiness, eh?”

As Riley grumbles, Alex smoothy grabs the long, stringy hair of Tod, and applys a reverse facelock, dropping him down and turning… twisting… and planting an elbow into his chest, washing out deKindes with the Turn n’ Burn! The audiences cheering grows again, as he reaches over the hooks the leg for…

ONE!

TWO!!

THREE-KICKOUT!

“And yet another near fall attempt here!” Says Mark. “Alex taking a page out of the great Divefire’s playbook.”

“All one page of it.” Smirks Riley, chuckling a little.

“Er… Riley? Aren’t you and Diver supposed to be friends?”

Riley coughs and clears his throat, as Alex rises to his knees, looking frustrated. Finally looking completely sick of the match itself, Zenon throws his arms down in a Razor Ramoan fashion, signaling the end! The crowd buzzes a bit as Alez scoops deKindes off the mat, moving so he stands back to back with him. Locking arms, Alex slowly brings Tod up onto his back, preparing to crack vertebrae with the Genocide Level Event! Alex moves his thighs, trying to catch Tod’s toes to complete the Gory Special… deKindes still has fight in him, moving his left foot around, fighting to keep it free… and it finds the best way to do that, scoring a kick right into the pit of Alex’s knee! The crowds buzz turns to ire, as they see Tod continuing to struggle, still in this thing! For the second time, deKindes lets loose with a kick into the pit of Alex’s knee… and the third time really is the charm, as Alex buckles, dropping to the ground and slackening his grip!

The crowd’s ire boils over, having seen that the German Imposter has yet another chance to end this match. At the top of the ramp way, surrounded by four officals, road agents, and of course, Angel, Nathaniel Kibagami stops his slow crawl, looking back at the ring, and the action causing the booing…

“Tod’s free again, and now you know he’s not going to waste this opportunity!” Says Mark. “It’s a little over 20 minutes into the match… and even with the less punishment taken, a good German Wet Dream Machine would--” Mark stops as Riley giggles. “What?”

“Oh… nothing, Mark.” He smirks. “But you’re right, one good German Wet… hahaha… German Wet Dream Machine will be enough to put Alex down.

“Or I’ll get in there the Outsider Bomb him myself!”

Making a cruel mockery of the ‘it’s over’ motion Alex has just moments ago, Tod deKindes slips one of Alex’s hands between his legs for a pumphandle, pushing his other arm aside to be able to pick him up. Shouting out a cocky “Who’s BAD!?” to the crowd—who jeer furiously in return—he smirks, and hauls Zenon onto his shoulder.

In an instant, the crowds hatred turns to exitment.

Alex kicks his legs violently as Tod tries to pull him off his shoulder to complete the Michinoku Driver portion of the move. Tod tries… to keep… his grip…

But fails. Alex easily slides down the Germanators back, and makes no mistake as his grapevines both his legs around Tod’s. The cheers suddenly become deafening, as Alex slides his arms underneath Tod’s and clasps his hands under his chin, moving his head proper over his shoulder… and sits out.

CRUNK.

Tod deKindes slumps off of Alex Zenon’s shoulder in unimaginable pain, as Zenon pauses to catch his breath. Shaking out the fog in his mind, he slowly moves over to the collapsed Tod, and rolls him onto his back… slumping across for the cover.

“He did it! Alex scored with the GLE! I’d say it’s academic now, Riley!”

“Ugh… please no.”

ONE!!

“PLEASE tell me I’m not seeing this.”

TWO!!!

“::sob::”

THREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!

**DING! DING! DING!**

The crowd exPLODES, Riley implodes into tears, and Mark Stevens is almost complelled to applaud, as Funyon makes the announcement… “Lades and gentlemen, the winner of this match, by PINFALL… and the NUMBER ONE CONTENDER to the ICTV TITLE…

“ALEX… ZENNNNOOOONNNN!!”

“With Tod taken down via finisher, Alex Zenon is going to face whoever the ICTV champion is after tonight… can you believe it, Riley?”

“I don’t want to!” Shouts Bobby, indignantly! “Dammit… I can’t believe this, what a crock! deKindes was totally shafted here, by… by… BY…”

“By what?” Mark smirks.

“By… by that stupid ref and his slow count! He should’ve had Kibagami and Zenon eliminated ages before! And… those close fists! Those are ILLEGAL, Mark, you know it as well as I do! That’s a disqualification! And, and…”

Riley trails off, mumbling something incomprehensible. Mark shakes his head, “Riley, you never fail to amaze me… well, regardless, up next is the United States title match between Danny Williams and Annie Eclectic! Don’t miss it!”

In the ring, Alex still has his hand held high by referee Nick Soapdish, breathing heavily from the effort of the match, listening to the “ZEN-ON! *clapclap* ZEN-ON!” chants that some of the audience have taken up… the thoughts of the little underhanded trickery that helped eliminated Nathaniel Kibagami from this match seemingly nothing but a distant memory.

Except to the man himself. Up on the rampway, Nathan looks into the ring, as he and Alex lock eyes. Nathan smirks… then chuckles, before walking away, finally stepping into the back he should’ve several minutes ago. Alex Zenon blanches… and then closes his eyes.

It’s going to be a long, cold winter.

December 2, 2002

Ced Ordonez, wearing tattered Bemani Cross Wizards t-shirt and still a bit winded from his match earlier, stands next to Ben Hardy.

Hardy: “Ced, first of all, great match to kick…”

Ced covers Ben’s mouth to silence him and repositions his microphone so he can speak.

Ced: “I appreciate the compliment, but I’ve got to speak my mind, Ben. A lot has been going through my mind lately. Mostly about this…”

He directs attention to the logo on his shirt and continues his speech with his head down.

“The Bemani Cross Wizards. Mak Francis, you put one hell of a match out there with me and I appreciate that. You don’t give a damn about what happens on your way to victory. We’ve teamed up a few times now, but no matter how good you are, you’re not a Bemani Cross Wizard, but, n the same vein, I’m not a Bemani Cross Wizard either. The BCW is dead and Mak, you know, I know, and everyone knows who killed it. That man took all the fun out of it and left the Bemani Cross Wizards to perish as a mere shell of itself."

He raises his head.

"That man is Thoth, or should I say Orochi? I don’t really give a damn anymore what you call yourself, you selfish prick. You stabbed Mak and I in our backs and went off on your one-man crusade to make everyone see the light. Well the only light I see is ruby-red and it’s aimed right for your head, Orochi. The Bemani Cross Wizards were all about fun and games and you killed it. What that means is…playtime’s over.

And as far as your match with Flesh*THWACK!!*”

A chair slams Ced in the back as the camera pans to reveal Orochi, frothing from the mouth. He slams the chair into Ced’s back again and begins tearing off the BCW shirt off Ced as Hardy runs for cover. The microphone dropped on the ground audibly picks up Orochi’s growling.

Orochi: “I made the Cross Wizards! I made you! And I can destroy you like the worthless worm you are!”

Ced tries to get to his feet, but Orochi slams the chair into his skull, mangling it. Orochi looks at the chair, unfazed at how warped it has become, before discarding it and walking over to a seemingly unconscious Ced.

Orochi: “You cannot stop me. Nobody can stop me. I will make everyone…accept the light that I bring.”

With those words he hoists the limp body of Ced Ordonez over his head into a Canadian backbreaker. The camera catches a disturbingly smug grin on Orochi’s face as he drops Ced head-first onto the concrete below with a Piercing Light. A very sickening thud is heard as Ced falls onto the cold floor lifeless and Orochi rises to his feet completely unaffected by his actions.

Orochi: “Nobody can stop me now, not even Flesher.”

Orochi walks away as if nothing had happened as Hardy runs back to the downed Ced Ordonez.

Hardy: “Ced? CED?!? Oh God…we need an ambulance here!”

He runs to look for help as the camera remains focused on a motionless Ced.

December 2, 2002

It’s the end of intermission, and the Frank Erwin Center is still half empty. Exhausted from a long night of action, the fans are very slow to return to their seats after the brief break. Many of them are carrying fresh cups of beer, and other refreshments.

Stevens: Welcome back from Intermission! Can you believe that we are just two matches away from tonight’s Main Event, when ELM’s mystery opponent will finally be revealed! I don’t know about you, Riley, but I can’t wait to see who it is!

Riley: Stevens, I hate to break it to you, but I already know who it is.

Stevens: Yeah sure, just like how you knew the identity of the mystery opponent in the Three Way match earlier.

Riley: So I got a bad tip, but trust me, the tip I got for tonight’s Main Event is very reliable. Believe me, ELM doesn’t stand a chance against this guy. A New Champion will be crowned, I guarantee it.

Stevens: Anyway fans, we are just moments away from the U.S. Title Bout between Danny Williams and Annie Eclectic.

Riley: Now I am looking forward to this one, this is gonna be a wild, bloody, brawl.

Stevens: Yes, I expect nothing less from these two. This feud started when Danny Williams attacked Annie Eclectic for apparently no reason, after she was kicked out of Magnificent Seven by Tom Flesher.

Riley: Make no mistake, Stevens, everything Williams does serves a purpose. He attacked Annie for one reason and one reason only, she has something he wants.....The U.S. Title.

Stevens: Interesting to note that Williams has never won singles gold in his stay with the SWF. Being ranked much lower than Annie Eclectic, attacking her could be an easy way to get a match with her.

Riley: Your damn right. Tonight, Williams has a chance to prove that he is better than his ranking, and that he deserves to be higher on roster.

Suddenly the pretty bass line of In Flame’s “Jester’s Dance” drowns out all the sound of the arena. The theme music causes a panic to ensue, as the remaining fans rush to find their seats, not wanting to miss a second of the show. The hulking figure of Danny Williams emerges from behind the heavy curtains of the locker room, triggering some jeers from the fans who are fortunate enough to make it to their seats in time. Danny very slowly approaches the ring, though this time it’s appreciated, since it gives the fans more time to get to their seats and settle down.

Stevens: Williams has had over a week off, which could give him a slight edge over Annie. Though he didn’t look that good against ELM in the Handicap match two weeks ago.

Riley: Meanwhile, Annie had a tough hardcore match with Ash Ketchum, in which she took some hard shots to the head. You think they would start to add up, by now.

After nearly two minutes, Williams makes it to the ring. The seats in the arena start to fill up fast, as the fans fight to get back to their seats. Williams begins to warm up like a jogger preparing for a marathon race, patiently awaiting the arrival of the champion. Just as the “Jester’s Dance” fades out, Andrew W.K.’s hoarse vocals blasts over the loud speakers with his anthem “I Get Wet!” The fans burst into cheers as a small Asian girl steps out from behind the curtain. She has a belt wrapped around each arm, taking the time to blow kisses to her screaming fans.

Stevens: There she is, the newest member of the Midnight Carnival.

Riley: Lets see, they got a midget, a secret agent, and now a lesbian. It’s like a Roger Moore era Bond film, no wonder nobody takes them seriously.

Stevens: I sense some hostility towards Roger Moore. He had a few good Bond fillms, like the Spy Who Loved Me and whatnot.

Riley: That is the only good one! The rest suck, Roger Moore blows! Man with the Golden Gun, my ass.

Annie enters the ring, to the accompaniment of camera flashes. She takes a few seconds to bask in the flashing lights, before handing her belts to Mike Hunt, who hands them to the belt keeper outside the ring. Before handing her trusty Kendo Sword to Mike, she jokingly acts like she is going to swing it at him. Once her eyes meet with Williams’ evil emotionless glare, she turns much more serious, and focused.

Funyon: The following contest is scheduled for one fall, and will be for the U.S. CHAMPIONSHIP! Introducing first, the challenger, weighing in at 238 pounds, hailing from Louisville, Kentucky..............DANNY WILLIAMS!!!!!

Williams doesn’t acknowledge the calling of his name, or the fans “boos!” He just nervously twitches his head, and digs his boots into the mat like a bull preparing to charge.

Funyon: And now Introducing the Champion, weighing in at 175 pounds, hailing from Indianapolis, Indiana, SHE IS YOUR U.S. CHAMPION.........ANNIE ECLECTIC!!!!!!!!

With a big smile on her face, Annie raises her hands in the air, while the crowd combusts into cheers. The cheers take the form of a short lived, “Annie! Annie! Annie!” chant.

Funyon: This contest will be officiated by Mike Hunt, and will be under a thirty minute limit.

With his job done, Funyon steps out of the ring, and Mike Hunt gets ready to signal the bell. Sensing the match is about to begin, the anxious fans start to get loud. Annie and Williams don’t take their eyes off each other, waiting patiently for the bell. DING! DING! DING! Annie rushes out of her corner, and starts hammering Williams’ temples with rotating right and left hooks! Williams is caught completely off guard by this furious brain jarring assault.

Riley: HERE WE GO!

Stevens: THE CHAMP IS COMING OUT WITH GUNS BLAZING!

Williams desperately grabs Annie’s hair with both his hands, and just throws her down to the mat with all his might! Annie hits the mat so hard, she folds over on her stomach while the crowd sympathetically “Ohs”. Williams breathes a sigh of relief, and takes the opportunity to shake off the effects of Annie’s early offense. But Annie springs back up in a matter of seconds, and rushes Williams again! Annie picks up where she left off, and starts rattling Williams’ brain with more haymakers! An annoyed Williams just throws Annie down by her hair again, just like last time she folds over on her belly! Not waiting for Annie to spring up again, Williams kicks her right in the face to keep her down! “Oooooooooooooooooh!”

Stevens: It looks like Williams isn’t going to give Annie any special treatment, because she’s a woman.

Riley: What can you expect from the guy that disfigured Sydney Sky. Man, Woman, it doesn’t matter to Williams once he’s in the ring, he is an equal opportunity ass kicker.

Williams kneels down in front of the agonizing Annie, and traps her in a front facelock. “HUUUUUUUUUUR” growls Williams as he squeezes Annie’s head, cutting off the blood supply to her head. Annie can feel her strength being squeezed out of her body, and her once pounding heart slowing down.

Riley: This is a smart move by Williams. Annie was all over him in the opening seconds, so he’s going to try to slow down the pace and wear her out with a facelock.

Stevens: Yes, as odd as it may seem an out of control brawl may actually go into Annie’s favor. Williams has had some trouble with brawlers in the past, even smaller ones like Andrew Rickman. I believe Williams even tapped out to a Rickman punch flurry in their first match.

Riley: Yeah, but that was before Williams mastered those elbow smashes. You know he developed those elbow smashes as a way to fight back against wild brawlers like Annie and Rickman.

Realizing that she can’t stay in this predicament any longer, Annie uses her remaining strength to push her way back to a vertical base. Williams responds by sending her right back to the mat with a snapmare, and slapping on a chinlock. Annie will not be denied, she quickly fights her way back up to her feet! Williams just snapmares her down again, but before he can trap her in the chinlock, Annie bridges back to her feet. Williams is caught off guard by this display of feminine flexibility, allowing Annie to surprise him with a snapmare of her own! With Williams seated, Annie wraps her powerful legs around his head, and pulls him down into a rear head scissors.

Riley: Wow, Annie is actually performing a wrestling move. History has indeed been made tonight, folks.

Stevens: An excellent wrestling move if I might add, Riley. She can easily wear Williams down with this hold, without expending much energy herself.

Annie grunts as she squeezes her legs together as tight as possible, in hopes of popping Williams’ head. Feeling the effects of the head scissors, Williams finds himself becoming very drowsy. However it doesn’t take him but a few seconds to brainstorm a plan for escape. With the weight advantage heavily in his favor, Williams has no trouble rolling on to his stomach, making it very easy for him to slip his head out of Annie’s legs. Before Annie can get up, Williams floats in front of her and traps her back in the front facelock.

Riley: But what you failed to mention, Stevens, is how easy it is to escape the head scissors. Now Annie is right back where she started.

Stevens: Not really, Riley. The escape may have looked easy, but it actually takes a great deal of energy to escape a Head Scissors, while Annie was able to rest and recover from Williams’ initial offense.

Just as Stevens explained, Williams is not as strong as he was before the head scissors. Annie has no trouble at all in forcing Williams back up to a vertical base. With her feet underneath her, Annie simply walks Williams into the ropes. Hunt orders Williams to break the hold, not wanting to risk a D.Q. in a title mach, Williams obliges. SMACK! Annie slaps the taste out of Williams mouth, leaving a red hand print on his cheek.

Stevens: Ouch!

Riley: After being out wrestled, The U.S. Champion is now cowardly resorting to cheap shots.

The crowd pops so loud they damn near break all the glass in the building! Not waiting for Williams to recover, Annie quickly shoots the shocked grappler off the ropes with an Irishwhip! But Williams holds on to her wrist, and reverses! Williams catches Annie on the rebound in an Abdominal Stretch, but Annie spins around him and traps him in one of her own!

Stevens: Great reversal!

Riley: This isn’t Annie Eclectic, the Annie I know doesn’t know a wristlock from a wristwatch. It must be another one of her twin sisters or something.

Not giving Annie a chance to work the hold, Williams slings her off with a modified hip toss! But Annie jumps back to her feet in milliseconds, surprising Williams with a flurry of Roundhouse Kicks to the gut! Williams turns his back to shield himself, making him easy prey for another Annie Eclectic Abdominal Stretch! With his hamstring burning in pain, Williams can’t simply hip toss her off now. Instead, Williams has to settle for inching his way to the ropes. Annie fights to keep Williams in the center of the ring but it’s a losing battle. Williams wraps an arm around the top rope, but a rope break isn’t on his mind. With the aid of the rope, Williams slings Annie out of the ring with yet another modified hip toss. Annie soars over the top rope, bounces off the ring apron, and lands on the arena floor.

Riley: Danny Williams is so smart, it’s scary. Where a normal wrestler would wait for the rope break, Williams just tosses her out of the ring to buy himself more time to recover from the hold.

Stevens: I agree with you there, the mark of any great wrestler is their ability to use the environment to their advantage. And Williams is certainly doing that.

With Annie finally out of his hair, Williams turns his back and staggers away, clutching his stretched out left hamstring. Williams doesn’t have as much time to recover as he hoped, as Annie slides back into the ring as quickly as she was thrown out of it. Williams hears the crowd pop, and spins around to see Annie charging him. Annie demolishes Williams with a lighting quick furry of Roundhouse Kicks to his stomach! Annie spins the sore Williams round, and wraps him up in the Abdominal Stretch. “ANN-E! ANN-E! ANN-E!” chants the excited fans.

Stevens: What an amazing display of determination by the Queen of Hardcore! Annie is overcoming Williams’ superior power and ring smarts, with pure toughness and will power!

Riley: That may be true for now, but always remember that skill always beats heart in the end.

Not satisfied with the effect the hold is having on Williams, Annie decides to speed things up by driving her free elbow into his rib cage. Williams can bare no more, and drops to one knee from weakness. Hunt asks Williams if he would like to throw in the towel, but he gets spit at for asking! Annie isn’t surprised, she knows that Williams isn’t going to submit to an Abdominal Stretch, however she keeps him in the hold to wear him down. Sensing that Williams is drastically weakened, Annie releases Williams from the hold, steps beside him, and slams him to the mat with a Russian Leg Sweep! Annie floats over on top of Williams for the pin.

ONE!

Williams kicks out with no trouble, and Annie quickly traps him in a front facelock. Annie gradually pulls Williams to his feet, and sets him up for a Suplex. Annie heaves for the lift, but Williams wisely grapevines his leg around hers to block it. Still hoping she can pull the Suplex off, Annie starts driving some knees into Williams’ stomach! With Williams already weak body softened up some more, Annie attempts the lift again! Williams may be in pain, but he still knows how to block a Suplex. Annie finally gives up, releases Williams, and pops him with a European Uppercut! Smack! To Annie’s surprise, Williams comes right back with a stiff Elbow Smash! Crack! Annie is wobbled, but she manages to return fire with a right hook! Crack! Williams just brushes it off, and blasts Annie with another Elbow! Crack! Annie is obviously hurt after this one, but she does her best to suck it up.

Riley: Annie Eclectic has got to be the dumbest wrestler I’ve ever seen! Why bother going through all that trouble to work over Williams’ body with the Abdominal Stretch, if your just going to trade head shots with him?

As of if she heard Riley’s words, Annie alters her strategy and drills Williams’ ribs with a powerful Roundhouse Kick! Williams winces in pain, finally giving Annie the reaction she was looking for.

Stevens: Williams felt that one!

Riley: Now that’s exactly what she should have done from the start! Maybe those elbows knocked some sense into her.

Williams collects himself, and counters with yet another jaw crushing Elbow Smash! Crack! Annie briefly staggers, as the heavy blows to her jaw start to accumulate. Despite being momentarily dazed, Annie holds her ground, and hammers Williams’ ribs with another kick! Williams cries out in pain, but still manages to throw an elbow! It’s hard but not nearly as hard as the previous ones, giving Annie the encouragement she needs to continue with the assault. Annie lets out an emotional battle cry as she connects with the hardest kick yet! This time Williams doesn’t return fire, he just doubles over, clutching his busted up ribs. The crowd applauds Annie’s small victory, feeling her with even more confidence.

Stevens: It looks like Annie’s kicks have finally taken their toll on Williams’ body.

Riley: I’d say he’s also still feeling the effects of the Abdominal Stretch. Damn you Stevens! Why don’t you give that move some credit for once?

Annie carelessly slaps a front facelock on Williams and falls back for the DDT! Thump! Williams keeps his feet planted to the mat, letting Annie hit the mat all by her lonesome. Not giving Annie a chance to get back up, Williams gives her a stiff kick to the back! Smack! Of course, Williams doesn’t stop after just one, he stops after three!

Stevens: Annie went for the DDT way too early, and Williams is making her pay for it.

Riley: That’s the down side to Annie’s aggression, and the up side to Williams’ patience. When your out of control and wild like Annie is, you tend to make a lot of mistakes, creating plenty of opportunities for guys like Danny to sneak in some offense.

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” shouts the fans, disgusted by the Williams’ act of kicking a woman while she’s down. Williams ignores them, thinking to himself, “Yeah, ya’ll aren’t the ones in the ring with crazy bitch.” Williams jerks Annie up by her wrist, and pulls her into a short arm chop! But before it can connect, Annie extends her knee, driving it into Williams’ gut as he pulls her in! Williams sinks to the mat like a deflating balloon, but Annie keeps her grip on his wrist, and drags him back up to his feet. Annie shoves Williams into the ropes while he struggles for air, and whips him off! Just like last time, Williams holds on to her arm and reverses, pulling Annie’s gut into a stiff short arm Knee! Annie doubles over, gagging like she is going to puke. Williams steps behind her, hooks her leg with his, and locks on the Abdominal Stretch! To make the move more painful, Williams locks his hands around Annie’s face, and starts twisting her neck.

Riley: It’s pay back time, Stevens!

Annie is unable to hold back her screams of agony, but she refuses to quit. To make the move more unpleasant, Williams releases the cross face and starts pushing Annie to the mat by her head. Imagining how much pain Annie is in, Williams cracks a smile and starts shout taunts like “ Now how you do like it, bitch!” Using his superior weight advantage, Williams has no trouble in pushing poor Annie all the way down to the mat, until she if forced to do the splits like a cheer leader. The crowd gasps, as Williams shoves Annie’s torso into her outstretched left leg! The crowd recovers from it’s shock, and starts an encouraging “ANN-E! ANN-E! ANN-E!” chant.

Stevens: Oh my god! Annie could tear a hamstring if she stays stretched out like that any longer. I have no idea what is keeping her from tapping out.

Riley: Now that’s what I call an Abdominal Stretch, Stevens. Williams has taking everything Annie has thrown at him, and is returning it ten fold.

Despite the pain being unbearable, Annie refuses to submit. Williams grows frustrated and impatient with Annie’s stubbornness, and releases from the submission hold only to give her a stiff kick to the back! Smack! Annie sucks up the pain in her back, and pulls her legs back to a comfortable position. Williams violently jerks her up by her wrist, and pulls her into a sharp, short arm chop! Smack! Annie hits the mat upon impact, but Williams pulls her right back up, only to floor her with another short arm chop! Smack! Williams finishes the Chop Down, with a third and final short arm chop! Smack! Despite chopping her to pieces, Williams keeps his grip on her wrist. Williams pulls Annie to a seated position, and cruelly kicks her in the back! Williams follows the Punt, with a Knife Edge Chop! Williams repeats the brutal combo two more times, knocking enough sweat off Annie’s bruised body to fill up a bath tub.

Stevens: Williams is just dominating the U.S. Champ, not to mention he’s beating her at her own game!

Riley: Wrong, Stevens. Annie’s game is garbage wrestling, without a trash can lid or her damn kendo stick, she can’t win a straight brawl. After all she’s just a girl.

Stevens: Fans, I would like to point out that Mr. Riley’s opinions are not shared or endorsed by neither myself or the SWF.

After being beating to a pulp, a weak Annie collapses back to the mat. Williams cold heartedly jumps almost two feet in the air, and brings a dickish Knee Drop across Annie’s forehead! The crowd is appalled by Williams lack of mercy, and a scared little girl bursts into tears after witnessing the disturbing knee drop. Annie starts twitching like a dying animal, but that doesn’t stop Williams from covering her for the pin.

ONE!

TWO!

Annie kicks out from underneath her attacker, and immediately rolls out of the ring! Not wanting to give Annie the smallest break, Williams rushes out after her. Williams pulls the sore Hardcore Queen up by her arm, and sends crashing into the guardrail with an Irishwhip! Clank! Pissed that Annie doesn’t go down, Williams rushes her with his elbow stretched! Pop! Annie lifts her boot up at the last possible second, catching Williams right in the nose! With his face buried in his hands, Williams staggers away. He doesn’t get very far, collapsing after only a few steps. The front rolls fans chatter amongst themselves, confirming with each other that they saw the same thing, Annie’s boot actually making contact with Williams’ nose. A very sore, Annie Eclectic, slowly makes her way back to the ring, leaving Williams passed out on the arena floor.

Riley: Please tell me that was not Williams’ nose that made that popping noise.

Stevens: I am afraid so, Riley. If you recall, Williams broke his nose in a cage match with Frost back in the SJL. Once your nose is broken, it doesn’t heal as strong as it once was, making it easier to break a second time.

Hunt starts to count out Williams, who is still in great pain face down on the floor. Annie painfully does some toe touches and other stretches, to ease the throbbing pain throughout her body. It isn’t until Hunt slowly makes it to the count of “Three!”, that Williams finally raises his head up. His hands are red with blood, which is oozing out of both his nostrils.

Stevens: Oh yeah, I think his nose is defiantly broken. To say this could swings things into Annie’s favor, would be a huge understatement. A broken nose not only effects your breathing, but also your vision, not to mention the blood loss it causes.

Riley: Shit! Williams had this thing won, it’s not fair dammit!

Stevens: Jeez, Riley chill out! Williams defeated Frost with a broken nose, so it’s not like it’s impossible for him to do the same here. However, it will be very difficult.

Williams blinks a few times to clear his vision up, before making his way back into the ring. Once Williams gets to the ring apron, Annie drills him with a Baseball Slide out of nowhere! Williams grabs his face, and blindly stumbles around in agony. Annie climbs out of the ring, and scoops her blind opponent up! Splat! Annie body slams Williams on to the unforgiving arena floor, and than crushes him with a Senton! Still not an any condition to mount a strong offense, Annie rolls back into the ring and takes another breather.

Riley: It looks like Annie is doing just enough to keep Williams down, and is not making any attempt to put him away. While this does allow her to conserve her energy, it can be very dangerous to keep a challenger hanging around.

Stevens: Annie took one hell of a beating not to long ago, I imagine she is still a too little sore to start a high impact offense. Perhaps some of Danny’s patience is wearing off on her, sometimes you can learn a lot from your opponent.

Hunt restarts the count, while Danny agonizes on the floor. Annie rests with her hands on her knees, squinting her eyes to carefully watch Williams’ every move. Williams is much slower to get up this time, and doesn’t start to show signs of life until Hunt reaches “Five!”. In great pain just to stand up, Williams grunts as uses the apron to pull himself up. Moving like a slug on depressants, Williams gingerly climbs on to the apron and stands up. Not giving Williams a chance to climb in, Annie palms the back of his head and runs him along the apron! DING! Annie slams Williams’ head into the ring post, sending him flying off the ring apron and back down to the floor! Williams is now screaming like a dying man, laying on his back, clutching his face and kicking his feet into the air. Despite Williams in an obvious vulnerable position, Annie doesn’t leave the ring to go after him. There is a small negative reaction to Annie’s dickish tatics, but her loyal fans still support her with some claps.

Riley: I understand Annie’s strategy now. If she can control the high ground, Williams will have to expend his energy to come to her.

Stevens: It’s just like what I said earlier, about using the environment to your advantage. Annie is showing that she’s more than just the Queen of Hardcore, but a deserving and intelligent U.S. Champion.

Not wanting to be beat by a count out, Williams ignores the numbing pain in his face, and attempts to reenter the ring. This time Williams takes a safer route, simply rolling underneath the bottom rope. Annie greets Williams with some welcoming stomps to the face! After using Williams’ face like a door mat, Annie lifts him up, and sends him running with an Irishwhip! Annie catches Williams on the rebound, with a stiff Jumping Knee! With numb legs, Williams stumbles into the nearest corner to keep from going down. Annie shows no mercy, and smashes his face with another Jumping Knee! Annie spins Williams around, and bashes his face into the turnbuckles a few times!

Stevens: It looks like Annie is adjusting her strategy from attacking Williams' body, to going after his nose.

Blood is starting to pour from Williams’ nose like it’s a water faucet, covering his upper lip and chin. Annie scoops the bloody challenger up, and ties him up in the Tree of Woe. Annie hammers Williams’ wide open stomach with two hard Dropkicks, knocking the breath out of him! Hanging upside also causes the blood in Williams’ broken nose to run down his throat, gagging him. Williams chokes on his own blood, Annie takes position in the cross corner, and charges across the ring! “OOOOOOOOOOOOOOH!” sympathizes the crowd, as Annie connects with a nasty Baseball Slide!

Riley: Ouch, this is one of the most painful matches I’ve ever watched. Annie is just destroying Williams’ broken nose.

Stevens: Annie will do whatever it takes to win, even if that means working over Williams’ nose until he bleeds to death. Tonight, she is displaying the perfect balance of intelligence and brutality. Something that Williams normally specializes in.

Annie unties Williams’ legs, letting him flop face first on the mat. Williams looks like hell, but Annie chooses not to go for the pin just yet. Annie pulls Williams up with a front facelock, and drapes his arm over her shoulder. Annie grabs a handful of his tights, and with a “IEEEEEEEE!” lifts him off the mat. The crowd explodes with applause at the sight of Annie hoisting a roid freak like Williams over her head. Annie stalls, letting all the blood flow to not only Williams head, but the now open drain that is his nose. Annie’s face starts to turn purple, and she starts to shake violently from strain, but still she holds Williams upside. Blood is just gushing out of Williams’ nose, running down his face and into his eyes. After nearly twenty seconds, Annie gives in to the cramps in her muscles, and falls back for the Suplex! KA-BOOM! Williams hits the mat so hard, he literally bounces a few inches off the mat!

Stevens: Textbook Suplex!

Riley: EEEW! Williams is losing blood by gallons.

The U.S. champ floats over on top of him for the pin!

ONE!

TWO!

Williams predictably kicks out, however he is too weak to do much else. Annie helps Williams up, and guides him into a standing head scissors. The fans jump out of their seats, as Annie ties him up in a double under hook!

Stevens: It looks like Annie is setting Williams up for THE DAYBREAK! A move she learned from her former lover, Sydney Sky.

Riley: With a broken nose, Williams cannot afford to take that move! He needs to avoid it like his life depends on it, or he’s going to be in a world of hurt!

Avoiding the move like the plague, Williams back paddles to the sanctuary of the ropes! Not even giving Annie a chance to release him, Williams shoots her frail body off with a Back Body Drop!

While free falling, Annie manages to grab hold of the ropes, to some what cushion her fall.

Stevens: Excellent counter by Williams! Not only does he avoid the Daybreak, but he is able to buy himself some time to recover.

Riley: Don’t be stupid, Stevens. Williams cannot afford to give Annie a second to recover, he has to get off defense, and mount an offense RIGHT NOW!

Pausing just for a second to wipe some blood away from his mouth, Williams darts across the ring. Williams bounces off the ropes, and takes off in Annie’s direction. Off balance from the fall, Annie climbs to her feet unaware of the charging challenger. Williams dives over the second rope like a human torpedo, and drills Annie with the Elbow Suicida! Clank! The force of the attack knocks Annie into the guardrail, while Williams lands safely on his feet. Williams walks Annie off the guardrail by her hair, and scoops slams her on to the floor! Thump! With Annie laying horizontal to the ring, Williams hops on to the ring apron, and dives off, squishing Annie’s head with a nasty Knee Drop! Annie disturbingly spasms on the floor, before going completely limp.

Stevens: Dear god, he landed right on her forehead!

Riley: Williams introduced the Knee Drop in his return match against Xero, and it’s quickly became a favorite of mine. It isn’t the most graceful high flying move in the federation, but it is one of the most brutal.

With the “can’t win title by count out rule” on his mind, Williams frantically tries to get Annie back to her feet. Williams strains and strains, but Annie is dead weight. Running out of time, Williams rolls back into the ring on “Nine!”, and slides back out, forcing Hunt to restart the count. In the seconds that passed, Annie has become some what conscious, making it a lot easier for Williams to roll her back into the ring. Williams follows her in, crawls around her, and holds her down with a lateral press for the pin. Considering Annie’s position near the edge of the ring, Hunt slides out of the ring to get a better view, before starting the count.

ONE!

TWO!

With a clearer view, Hunt spots Annie placing a boot on the rope right as she does it. Convinced that Annie is still weak enough to be pinned, Williams hooks the leg in question, and Hunt starts another count.

ONE!

TWO!

Not needing the ropes this time, Annie kicks out herself! This finally convinces Williams that Annie isn’t ready yet. Williams pulls Annie up by her hair, scoop slams her in the center of the ring, and starts climbing up the turnbuckles off the nearest corner. With a clueless look on her face, Annie climbs to her feet, just as Williams reaches the top rope. Williams aims carefully, and leaps head first at Annie with his elbow extended! Briefly regaining her balance, Annie jumps at her flying attacker, catching him with a Jumping Knee to the face IN MID AIR! Nearly every person in the arena, jumps out of their seats in ah of the sick spot.

Riley: OH MY GOD, DID YOU SEE THAT!

Stevens: I saw it, but I don’t believe it! That has got to be one of the most horrendous things I have ever witnessed in the wrestling ring, and the fact that Williams has a broken nose make it’s all the more cringe inducing.

Annie slowly crawls to Williams’ lifeless body, and covers him for the pin. Sensing this is the end for the challenger, Annie’s fans scream along with Hunt’s count.

“ONE!”

“TWO!”

“TH-AAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!” Williams rudely interrupts the fans, by kicking out! Still feeling the effects of the kneedrop, Annie is slow to get up. Sensing that Annie is on a roll, the crowd starts to warm up. Annie helps Williams up with a front facelock, and falls back!

Stevens: and Annie hits the elusive DDT!

Williams’ head bounces off the mat, flipping him over on his back. With glassy eyes, Williams sits up and despite looking completely out of it, he starts to stand up. Before he can erect his back, Williams’ legs give out, causing him to flop on his BUTT.

Riley: Williams’ legs are gone! Things not looking good for the challenger!

Stevens: It looks like Williams’ dream to win singles gold, is going to have to be put on hold. Because, I believe that Annie may be one or two big moves away from a victory.

Annie pulls Williams up by his head, and slaps on another front facelock. Annie kicks her legs out, and plants Williams with even nastier DDT! Williams lands on his knees, with his BUTT stuck up in the air. Williams’ body gradually goes limp, causing him to lifelessly roll over on his back. Annie quickly covers her seemingly dead opponent for the pin.

ONE!

TWO!

TWO1/2!

WILLIAMS ESCAPES WITH A WEAK KICK OUT! Annie points a finger in the air, and twirls it around to signal the “Tornado DDT!” The fans once again rise to their feet, while Annie leaves Williams laid out on the mat, and hops up on to the second turnbuckle.

Stevens: Annie going for the Tornado DDT! Considering that Williams has already taking two DDTs, this could be the icing on the cake.

Riley: She has a good chance of hitting it too, I don’t Williams knows where he’s at.

It takes him a couple of tries, but Williams accomplishes the challenge of standing up. With perfect timing, Annie leaps at him, catches him in a front facelock, gracefully spins him around, and ungracefully slams the top of his head into the mat.

Stevens: SHE HIT IT! SHE HE IT! WILLIAMS IS OUT COLD!

Annie suffers from dizziness, but has no trouble in covering Williams for the pin. Convinced that it’s curtains for Williams, the fans remain standing in preparation for Annie’s victory celebration and scream along with Hunt’s count at the top of their lungs.

“ONE!”

“TWO!”

“THREE!”

NO! WILLIAMS PUTS A FOOT ON THE ROPE! Annie wipes her sweat soaked bangs out of her eyes, takes a couple of breaths, and drags Williams up by his arm. Williams wobbles so much, she has to lean him against the ropes to keep him up. Annie fires Williams off the ropes with the Irishwhip, only for Williams to collapse before reaching his destination.

Stevens: Poor Annie, first Williams is too strong to be Irishwhipped, and now he’s too weak.

Riley: Annie is most likely looking for the Splashdown, but I don’t see it happening tonight. There’s no doubt the move could put Williams away, because the bigger you are, the worse the impact. However, Williams is just not cooperating, tonight.

Annie is briefly disappointed, until it dawns on her that Williams is still in a vulnerable position for one of her favorite moves. Annie charges the kneeling Williams, and fires a Seated Dropkick!

Stevens: DROPKISS!

Williams may be in a near coma state, but he knows what’s about to happen. Williams swings his head out of the way, and rolls out on to the ring apron.

Riley: NO! Williams avoids the Dropkiss, and wisely rolls out to the ring apron. Smart, smart, move.

Stevens: I don’t understand. Why doesn’t Williams roll all the way to the floor? It would take Annie more time to retrieve him, there by giving him more time to clear his head.

Riley: It’s smarter to roll just to the apron, because Annie is the champion. If Williams was to go all the way to the floor, Annie would have no reason to retrieve him. This would mean that Williams would have to get back in on his own, which is something he doesn’t have the strength to do at the moment. She could just win by a count out, and walk away with the belt.

Not wanting Williams to get away, Annie leans over the ropes and forces Williams on his feet. Annie hooks him up for the Vertical Suplex, and summons her power for the lift.

Stevens: Annie setting Williams up for the Suplex. You know, Riley, I don’t think Annie is the type of wrestler that would be satisfied with a count out win.

Riley: Yeah, she’s way to dumb to be satisfied with a count out. Williams may have overestimated her intelligence, perhaps he should have rolled all the way to the floor.

Annie strains her guts out, and successfully hoists Williams over the ropes. Annie violently trembles from the great stress being put on her muscles, by lifting a large man over her head. Suddenly, Williams slips out of Annie’s grasp, landing on his feet behind her! Not giving Annie a chance to turn around, Williams swiftly traps her in a Sleeperhold! Annie stretches her arms for the ropes, but Williams wraps on a body scissors and drags her down to the mat!

Stevens: Williams reverses, DOUSHIME SLEEPER!

Riley: Williams again demonstrating his superior intelligence over the Garbage Queen. By using a sleeper, rather than going for a big suplex, Williams can conserve his energy, while draining Annie’s.

Annie holds her arm high in the air, to show Hunt and her fans that she isn’t out yet. Annie attempts to pry Williams’ massive arms off her head, but it’s no use. Annie knows she doesn’t have much time left, so she tires another escape route. Annie starts swaying back and forth, gaining enough momentum to roll over towards the ropes. Annie reaches for the ropes, but Williams rolls right back to the other side, away from the ropes. Annie tries to turn him again, but the effects of the Sleeper starts to kick in like a powerful narcotic. Annie’s limbs become heavy, and she starts finding it more and more difficult to keep her eyes open. Annie’s arm drops, rises, drops and doesn’t rise anymore. Feeling Annie’s body go limp, and her breathing slowing down, Williams releases the Sleeper and hooks her legs for the pin.

ONE!

TWO!

Annie kicks out, sparking some cheers.

Stevens: Williams is very unique in that he goes for the pin off a Sleeper, rather than waiting for the arm test. Probably because it’s a lot harder to kick out of a pin, than simply raise an arm up.

Riley: Also when was the last time, one of those damn arm tests worked anyway.

The break from action and heavy breathing has finally gave Williams’ nose a chance to stop bleeding, however his face is still smeared with sticky dark blood. Williams drags his drowsy opponent up by her arm, and wraps it around his head. Williams locks his hands around her hip, and hoists her up over his shoulder!

Riley: Williams setting Annie up for a................DANGEROUS BACKDROP!

Stevens: We haven’t seen Williams hit that move in a long time, maybe tonight will be an exception.

The change in altitude awakens Annie from slumber, and it doesn’t take long for her to realize she’s about to be dropped on her head. In hopes of wiggling free, Annie starts wildly flailing her arms and legs about. Despite Annie’s effort, Williams keeps her balanced perfectly on his shoulder for his finisher. Thinking fast, Annie spots Williams’ bloody nose, and starts pounding it with her fist! Williams can’t stand much of this, and has no choice but to set Annie back down. Once Annie finds the mat again, she takes off running with Williams’ head tucked under her arm pit with a Side Headlock! Annie leaps into the air and sits out, slamming Williams’ face into the mat!

Stevens: Annie going old school with the BULLDOG HEADLOCK! Williams was fixing to dump Annie right on her noggin, but she was able to put a stop to that by going right back after his injured nose. I think it had just finally stopped bleeding too.

Riley: Just as I feared, Williams’ nose has became a serious factor into this match up.

Still disorientated from the Sleeperhold, Annie rubs her eyes, before slowly getting up. After slapping herself a few times to wake herself up, Annie spots Williams rolling around on the mat, holding his face. Annie helps Williams up, but get’s rewarded with an elbow to the face! Annie is caught off guard, but comes right back with a stiff haymaker to Williams’ temple! The crowd nearly riots with cheers, as Williams and Annie start trading elbows and punches!

Stevens: THEIR GOING AT IT, TOE TO TOE, TRADING SHOT FOR SHOT!

Riley: IT’S A BATTLE OF WILLS, NOW! WHO WANTS IT MORE!

Annie finally nails Williams’ in the nose, causing him to freeze from pain. No longer interested in hurting Williams, Annie goes for the knock out by busting Williams’ chin with three straight European Uppercuts! Williams starts wobbling like he’s going to go down, but he regains his balance and answers Annie’s punch with an elbow! This pisses Annie off, she draws her hand back, and fires a wide right hook with the bad intentions! Williams sees it coming a mile away, easily blocking it! Williams counters with a surprise head BUTT, that backs Annie up! Williams grabs hold of Annie’s head with one hand to hold her steady, while he blasts her temple and jaw with his right elbow!

Riley: ELBOW! ELBOW! ELBOW! ELBOW! ELBOW!......

Stevens: ANNIE IS NOT FIGHTING BACK! SHE’S GETTING KILLED IN THERE!

It takes ten straight elbows to the skull, to finally take Annie off her feet! Out of breath and in pain, Williams rests with his hands on his knees! Unfortunately, Williams doesn’t get a chance to rest, Annie pops right back up, and rushes him like an attack dog!

Riley: WHAT THE FUCK!

Stevens: NO WAY!

Annie locks her hands around the back of Williams’ head, and starts slamming knees into his face! Williams crumbles to the mat after absorbing three straight knee lifts, but scrambles back to his hands and knees! Big mistake, as Annie takes full advantage of his position, by murdering him with a Dropkiss to the mouth! Both wrestlers are down, and the crowd gives the action packed sequence a standing ovation, almost coming off as a tribute to both wrestlers rather than just Annie!

Stevens: DOUBLE K.O.!

Riley: THIS IS THE GREATEST BRAWL I HAVE EVER SEEN!

Stevens: I have no idea who got the worse of that, both fighters absorbed more punishment in a few seconds than most do in an entire match.

Riley: I would say Annie took the most punishment without question. She may have landed the biggest blow, that being the Drop Kiss, however there’s no way you can take that many elbows and not let it effect in you in the long run.

Stevens: Your right, Riley. Annie sacrificed a lot to land that Drop Kiss, and if she doesn’t end this match soon, those elbows will catch up with her.

After hitting the mat, Annie’s adrenaline high wears off, causing all the pain of Williams’ elbows to rush to her brain all at once. Feeling like her head is going to explode, Annie squeezes her head like she’s trying to keep it from falling apart. Williams is in no pain, due to being knocked out. Still on their feet, the crowd starts an encouraging chant to lift Annie’s spirit. ANNIE! BOOM! BOOM! ANNIE! The crowd’s support helps Annie ignore her throbbing headache, and gather the power for one last attempt at putting the challenger away. Annie pulls Williams up into a standing headscissors, and hooks his arms! Just when you thought the arena couldn’t get any louder, the crowd manages to pump up the volume a notch higher.

Stevens: THIS IS IT! ANNIE IS GONNA PUT HIM AWAY WITH THE DAYBREAK!

Riley: WHAT? THIS CROWD IS SO LOUD I CAN’T EVEN HEAR MYSELF THINK!

No longer possessing the strength for a more powerful counter, Williams desperately drops to one knee to stop Annie from giving him the Daybreak. With the “Annie” chant picking up in intensity, Annie tries with all her might to pull Williams upright, so she can deliver the knockout blow. Going no where fast, Annie is left with no other choice but to give up and try something else. Annie unwraps her arms from Williams’, lets him raise up, and draws back her hand for a big haymaker! Annie thrusts all her body weight forward, and fires! Williams ducks, and clubs Annie in the back of the neck as she stumbles forward! The crowd quiets down, but are still to excited to stand.

Riley: William, breaking up Annie’s offense with his Enzui Lariat! Another new move of his, that’s been earning it’s keep.

Stevens: By the time, Annie had Williams weak enough for the Daybreak, she was too weak to hit it herself. Can Williams take advantage of the Lariat and hit a knock out move, or is he also to weak from the brawling?

After taking a five second break to clear his head, Williams pulls Annie up by her hair! Crack! Annie catches him off guard with the brutal haymaker she was trying to land all along! The punch knocks Williams’ silly, but it doesn’t knock him down! Annie re plants her pivot foot, and swings another big time right hook! Williams gets an arm up, blocking the punch! Annie is slow to get her hand back, allowing Williams to counter with a brutal, spinning, Back Elbow Smash that nearly rips her head off! Crack! Annie’s knees buckle, and she starts to fall forward!

Riley: WHAT AN ELBOW! ANNIE’S HURT, SHE’S GOING DOWN!

Annie catches herself with her hands, and regains her balance.

Stevens: NO! SHE FOUND HER FOOTING!

Surprised that Annie is still standing, Williams shuffles his feet into another 360 pin, this time ending it with the Rolling Elbow! CRACK! Annie staggers side ways with wobbly legs, fighting a losing battle against gravity. Annie’s legs finally completely go, forcing her to drop to her hands and knees. Williams almost goes down himself, but he manages to grab the ropes, and steady himself.

Riley: Annie is finished, she is knocked out and she doesn’t even know it. Now more than ever, it looks like Danny Williams is going realize his dream, and capture his FIRST EVER SINGLES GOLD!

Stevens: Williams hasn’t put the last nail in the coffin, just yet. Annie still has some fight left in her, I assure you.

The crowd stays on their feet, still cheering Annie on, despite the situation now looking hopeless. To the surprise of everyone in the building, Annie bravely stands up on her own. She is obviously suffering in great pain, and her legs are trembling so bad she looks like the slightest breeze could knock her down, but Annie is still standing. The crowd shows it’s respect, by applauding Annie’s heroic effort.

Stevens: ANNIE IS UP! ANNIE IS UP! WHAT A DISPLAY OF DETERMINATION FROM THE U.S CHAMP!

Riley: If she wasn’t such a selfish little bitch, I would actually have respect for her after this match.

Williams growls with rage, and slings shots himself off the ropes at the champion! SMACK! Annie somehow catches Williams with the Superkick, as he rushes in! The impact blows Williams back into the ropes from whence he came! But Williams springs right off them, and bashes Annie with the Running Elbow anyway! CRACK! Williams and Annie hit the mat together, both appearing to be K.O.ed.

Stevens: ANOTHER DOUBLE K.O.!.

Riley: You talk about Annie’s determination, what about Williams will to win that belt! He just walked right through an Annie Superkick, to hit her with his Running Elbow! That shows me that he is willing to put his own health at risk by taking one of the champ’s most brutal moves, in order to do more damage to her.

Stevens: Indeed, both wrestlers are putting their body’s on the lines for the third most coveted title in the Federation.

The crowd restarts the “Annie!” chant, in hopes of getting her up before Williams. Despite the crowd’s support for the U.S. Champion, Williams is the first to show some signs of life. Williams crawls over on top of Annie, and just lays on her for the pin.

ONE!

TWO!

TWO1/2.........

ANNIE WIGGLES A SHOULDER UP! Williams rolls off of her, crawls to the ropes, and pulls himself up.

Stevens: Right now, Williams has to be asking himself, “what will it take to keep the champ down!”

Riley: This is the time for Williams to dig deep in his artillery, and bring out the big guns. He’s going to have to let it all hang out, and take some risks if he wants that belt!

Despite being in a half awake/half sleep state of conscious, Annie knows she has to get back to a vertical base. Williams takes position behind Annie, as she starts her long journey to her feet. Williams wraps his arms around in her in a rear waistlock, and helps her up.

Riley: Alright, Williams is going for the German!

Once he has Annie upright, Williams bridges back, and tosses into the air! Thump! Annie lands grotesquely on her neck, causing her legs to fold over her head, before springing back to their natural position!

Stevens: WHAT A THROW! ANNIE LANDED RIGHT ON HER HEAD!

Riley: THIS COULD BE ENOUGH, STEVENS!

Williams crawls over her body, and hooks one of her legs for the pin.

ONE!

TWO!

TWO1/2!

TWO3/4!

ANNIE RAISES HER ARM UP, just before Hunt’s hand can touch the mat a third time! The crowd pops for Annie’s fighting spirit, while Williams rolls his eyes and sits her up. Williams locks his hands around her belly, and pulls her up. Annie is wobbly and is having trouble keeping her eyes open, but Williams has no trouble in keeping her upright.

Stevens: OH NO! HE’S GOING TO SUPLEX HER AGAIN!

Riley: Williams is going to be arrested for murder, before he can get the pin!

Williams bends his knees, and launches a semi-conscious Annie into the air! Thump! Annie lands hard on the back of her skull, causing her body to fold over on it’s stomach.

Riley: RELEASE GERMAN! RELEASE GERMAAAAAAAAAAAAN!

Stevens: The champion is down, and she isn’t getting up.

Annie is as motionless as a corpse, but Williams doesn’t go for the pin. Williams doesn’t cover, instead he shocks the crowd by sitting Annie’s corpse up. Williams tucks his head underneath her armpit, and lifts her up. Annie’s free arm dangles lifelessly to the mat, her eyes are closed, and her head slumps forward like her neck is made out of jelly, giving her the appearance of being in a deep sleep or possibly dead.

Stevens: Oh dear god, no! How the hell can Williams suplex her again, she can’t even stand up on her own. Hell, she isn’t even conscious! What the hell is the point in this, it’s obvious he can pin her now, why continue the assault?

Riley: You don’t know that for sure, and neither does Williams. Annie appeared to be knocked out a few seconds ago, but still kicked out somehow. The time limit is about to expire, and Williams cannot allow that to happen again!

Williams snaps back with a beautiful bridge, gruesomely driving Annie’s cranium into the mat at a perfect vertical angle! THUMP! Annie’s body does a 180 degree spin on it’s neck similar to a break dancer, before lifelessly coming to rest on the mat.

Riley: DANGEROUS BACKDROP! DANGEROUS BACKDROP! DANGEROUS BAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACKDROP!

Stevens: God all mighty, ANNIE IS DEAD! ANNIE IS DEAD!

Not even bothering to hook a leg, Williams covers Annie’s lifeless body for the pin.

ONE!

TWO!

TWO1/2...

THREE!

DING! DING! DING!

Riley: YEEEEEEEEEEEES! IT’S OVER!

Stevens: HE DONE IT! WILLIAMS IS THE NEW U.S. CHAMPION!

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” bitches the fans, as Hunt raises Williams’ arm to make it official.

Funyon: The winner by pinfall at 22 minutes and 56 seconds.........THE NEW SWF U.S. CHAMPIOOOON, DANNY WILLIAMS!

The gentle guitar melodies of In Flames, drown out the audiences hisses. Several doctors rush into the ring, to check out Annie and Williams. Williams brushes the paramedics off, just grabbing some cotton swobs to stick up his nose. The belt keeper enters the ring, and presents the belt to it’s new owner. Williams snatches the belt, and tries it own. With blood soaked cotton balls stuck up his nose, Williams poses on the second turnbuckle, with the shiny belt sparkling around his waist. “I DID IT!”, proudly screams Williams at the top of his lungs. The crowd lowers their thumbs in disapproval, so Williams responds with some profane laced taunts. Annie is sitting up now, with an ice pack on her neck, and paramedics shining lights in her eyes.

Riley: It’s taken him quite some time, but Williams has finally struck gold, and moved up the ladder. This has been a long time coming.

Stevens: I can’t argue with that, Williams was the SJL World Champion at the time of his bump, but yet he is now the last to actually capture any titles. I congratulate him for a job well done. I also would like to congratulate Annie.

Riley: Oh, I knew this was coming.

Stevens: Annie fought like a champion, and held her own very well against the challenger. However, she just took way to much punishment than she had too, and in the end it caught up with her. She kicked out of stuff, that would have put me down for the three. She fought bravely, and showed a lot of heart.

Riley: I don’t know about you, but I am getting pumped. Because guess what match is next?

Stevens: Tom....

Riley: Tom Flesher and Orochi for the ICTV Title!

Stevens: You don't say? Anyway, this is shaping to be an excellent PPV, and if it’s just as half as good as Williams/Annie than I’ll be happy.

December 2, 2002

The pay-per-view telecast fades back in, with ambiguous rock music blaring in the background. The camera pans around the arena, catching fans holding up signs such as "I'm Here to See WYS!," "Orochi: It's Thoth Light!" and "Flesher On The King's Road!" It pans over to the SmarkTron, which shows the ICTV Title graphic. A photo of Tom Flesher in his grey suit with the ICTV belt slung over his shoulder fades in on the left. On the right, a picture of Orochi appears, and across the bottom scroll the words "TOM FLESHER VS. OROCHI... ICTV TITLE... GRUDGE MATCH." With that, an explosion of pyrotechnics sends the camera over to the announcers. Bobby Riley sits on the left side of the table with a steaming cup of coffee in front of him. On the other side sits the Heavy Hitter himself, "Grand Slam" Mark Stevens. Stevens salutes the pay-per-view audience and greets them with a hearty, "Welcome back!"

"Ladies and gentlemen," says Bobby sophistocatedly, "thank you once again for joining us this evening. I'm pleased to welcome you back to the SWF's third annual Ashes To Ashes pay-per-view event. The match about to take place is already a strong candidate for Match of the Year, and it hasn't even begun. So, without further adieu, I send you to Funyon for tonight's main event-"

"Now wait just a moment there," admonishes Stevens. "We've still got El Luchadore Magnifico taking on the mystery man for the SWF World Championship! If the rumors I've heard are true, and I have very good cause to believe they are, these fans and everyone watching at home are ALL in for the mark-out moment of the night!"

"Oh, blah, blah, blah," says Riley, making a 'yak, yak, yak' gesture. "That match has had no build, and besides, this match has Flesher!"

"Well, Booby, it also has Orochi, and love him or hate him, you've got to know that the Lightbringer is very, very capable of putting Tom Flesher down for the count in tonight's grudge match. These two have only met once before in singles competition, a few weeks ago on Storm when Tom Flesher won the match with an Unprettier and a faceful of black mist."

"Woohoo! Durandal!"

"That's precisely what Orochi has been calling Tom lately, much to Tom's chagrin. Keep in mind, also, that Tom Flesher feels he-"

"AHEM." Riley clears his throat, then condescendingly finishes Grand Slam's sentence. "Tom Flesher IS the best wrestler in the SWF today. He's going to be the next SWF World Champion, and he'll take his first steps onto the King's Road as soon as he makes Thoth tap out."

"Don't you mean Orochi?"

"No, Stevens. I don't."

As Riley arrogantly takes a sip of his coffee, Stevens says, "Well, let's go to Funyon and find out!"

Funyon announces, "Ladies and gentlemen, the following grudge match is scheduled for one fall, and it is for the SWF Intercontinental Television Title!" Funyon pauses for applause, then continues, "The challenger..."

Blinding white lamps illuminate the arena as "Hikari" by Hikaru Utada begins to blare over the speakers...

Don'na tokidatte

Tatta hitori de

Unmei wasurete

Ikitekita no ni

Totsuzen no hikari no naka, megasameru

Mayonaka ni

The lights fade, supplanted with the ordinary house lights of the Erwin Center. Orochi stands in front of the curtain, posing with his arms out to receive the crowd's love and adoration, despite the fact that they're booing, shouting vile insults and generally showing marked disgust with him.

Shizuka ni deguchi ni tatte

Kurayami ni hikari o ute

Imadoki yakusoku nante

Fuan ni saseru dake kana

Negai o kuchini shitai dake sa

Orochi begins his slow walk to the ring, looking absolutely sadistic. His beautiful theme continues to blare, giving a sharp, ironic twist to his entrance as he acts oblivious to the boos and catcalls being hurled at him. Finally, he steps into the ring, grinning like a serial killer about to claim his next victim.

"From Aechiba, Japan, and weighing in at 245 pounds... the Lightbringer, this is OROCHI!"

The fans boo even louder, and Orochi responds by twisting his psychotic grin into a frown. He leans in his corner, watching the entrance for his foe, as Funyon announces... "And his opponent...."

*****

BOOM!

It was funny. Standing in the back, I was never nervous. It's always me standing there, chatting with Andrea or Ted or whoever the gorilla is that night and sipping coffee. Usually, I'm in my gear as soon as the first match starts. Sure, the warm-up suit gets a little hot, and sometimes I get tired of carrying the belts around, but heavy is the head that wears the crown.

When that explosion goes off, though, my heart starts to beat a little bit faster. I just have to crack my neck, make sure I have both my belts- ICTV and Tag Team- and step out onto the ramp. All kinds of blue smoke is always floating, and it buys me just enough time to get into position as I hear Robert Plant singing the opening lyrics of "Kashmir." It's just a quick pose for me in front of the curtain, and then straight to the ring. I've never been one to waste time, after all.

On the other hand... it was a pay-per-view. We do have to drag these things out sometimes, now, don't we?

I could hear Mark and Bobby chattering at each other about how exciting the match was going to be. As I stopped in the middle of the aisle at the first hook, I grabbed one belt in each hand and held them up, just in time for the machine-gun bursts of pyro to go off. God, that must have been one hell of a photo. I just KNOW one of the photographers for TheSmartMarks got it, and Strong Style Spirit will have it on their front page.

Well, hopefully Strong Style Spirit and not that Jubuki fucker.

Walking to the ring was always fun. I rarely got to interact with the fans out in public, since, being better than all of them, they do tend to get jealous. It's unfortunate, really, since a lot of them have the potential to be great conversationalists, or if not that, they at least have daughters I'd like to sleep with. But on the walk to the ring, it's like they're right there. You can hear every word they say, feel every part on the back or slap on the ass. They're right there, unavoidable.

And you know, they're why I'm in this business to begin with. It's nice to see them out there, because it reminds me exactly what I got into this racket for. Each and every one of them... is paying to watch me.

Tom Flesher.

The Superior One.

That was all I could think about as I stepped into the ring and got into position in the center of the ring for the second hook and pyro pop. Just the same as the first one, I grabbed each belt and held them in the air, leaned my head back, and heard the music and pyro mixed together. That's always the last cue for me to get in the mood to work. That excites me. And so when I looked over at Funyon and saw him pulling the index card out, I was already bouncing up and down, ready to go.

He said, "Ladies and gentlemen, currently in the ring is a man who needs no introduction. For the third time in his tenure in the SWF, he wears two championship title belts. He's on a winning streak longer than most people's CAREERS, and after he turns out the Lightbringer, the party's going to over for the SWF World Champion. Ladies and gentlemen, bow down to the best worker in the SWF, 213 pounds of Buffalo born and bred steel, bow down to the SUPERIOR ONE, TOM FLESHER!!!!!!!"

With that, the crowd booed me, just like they always do. I'm used to it by now, but I really hope that some day they come around. I knew that as the match wore on, I'd end up getting on their good side, that they'd warm up to me when they saw what I was doing to Orochi, so I handed off the ICTV belt to Nick Soapdish and pulled off my warm-up suit. I laid it in the corner, dropped my Tag Team belt on top of it, and came out fighting.

DING DING DING!!!!!!

I stepped out to the center and met Orochi. Soapdish tried to explain the rules to us, but I cut that short when I nailed Orochi with a bitchslap. I had to get the edge early, you have to understand; if I let him get the upper hand, there was always the chance that he could catch me on my back and go home with the strap. We can't let that happen, now, can we?

So I bitchslapped Orochi across the face. I caught him by surprise, but that's exactly what I wanted to do. It makes him drop his guard and focus on his face, which leaves me all the room in the world to drop down and grab his left leg. Pick it up, lift him high, and trip out the right leg to put him right on his back. This early in the match, you really have to go for fatigue, so I decided to step over into the half-crab. Orochi fought a little bit, but I managed to get him over and get the leg up in the air. I cranked it as hard as I could, trying to get back further and further with every moment I spent holding him. Everyone always wants me to step on my opponent's head when I have him in the half-crab, but that's so much harder than it sounds. These guys just aren't flexible enough to allow it until after I get some more beatings in.

I worked the hold as hard as I could, but at some point you realize you're just not going to get the submission with the first hold you get in the match. His back and his leg weren't ready to cramp up and make him tap, so I released it, stepped off to the side and waited for Orochi to get to his feet. He started to push up, but I put him back down on his stomach with a sitdown dropkick to the head. He fell off to the side a little, but I decided to let him back up so I could hit some of my suplexes and bombs and really put him down for the count.

"Interesting strategy," I could hear Stevens calling in the background. "Mumble mumble something about submissions." Fucking clueless.

"I'm gay!" said Riley. Well, not really, but it was something about my ass, so it might as well have been.

So we were more or less back to the original lockup, but I had the advantage early because of the half-crab and dropkick to the head. Now THAT'S strategy. I grabbed him for a collar and elbow, just so I could lock on my terms and not his. He was still sort of groggy from the dropkick to the head, so I did the only thing I could: palmed him in the jaw to keep him that way. You'd be surprised how much a palm to the jaw can disorient someone. So while Orochi was trying to re-set his jaw and keep his balance, I ducked under, came up behind him and locked my hands around his waist. I remember thinking on the fly, "A bridge would just get a near-fall. There's no way he'd stay down for it." I re-grabbed my lock, arched backwards and, at the height of the bridge, I unlocked my hands. There's a special sound that a man makes when he lands on the back of his neck and follows through into a full backward roll onto his stomach. I think that sound is best translated into English as, "Tom fucked my girl."

I landed on my back and rolled through, head-to-head with Orochi. He was out of it, of course, and so I grabbed his arm and dragged him back into the center. I rolled him onto his back for the first cover of the night, and Soapdish counted

ONE!

KICKOUT!

Damn. It's always depressing when the first near-fall is a one-count. It's actually a psychological advantage for the guy who kicks out, because usually the first cover of a match comes off of some of the best moves a wrestler can throw at you. For him to kick out of that is kind of depressing.

"It's usually quite distressing," said Stevens, "when a wrestler only gets a one-count off of his best moves."

"And when's the last time YOU were in the ring?" Riley tried. He really did. "Any kind of near-fall is an ego boost, not that Flesher needed one."

Sometimes I wish we could just bring that spicy guy back and give him Riley's chair. Frankly, Bobby's kind of creepy.

But there was Orochi on the mat, face down. After the six miles' magic only got a one-count, I decided I really had to break out the good china to get this match done and over with. What else could I do? I reached under him and tried to lock my hands around his waist. He tried to hug the mat and avoid getting lifted, mainly because Stevens was on the outside shouting, "EGO BUSTER! Can he hit it this early?!" Bastard. Does he realize he's not supposed to be coaching? I tried to lock my hands under, but Orochi fought like crazy to keep me from getting it.

Nothing a solid elbow to the back of the head couldn't solve, though. He flattened out for just barely a second, which translated to just barely enough time for me to get my arms seatbelted around his waist. From there, it was easy. Lock the hands, tighten the grip, and lift. I lifted him about four feet off the ground... which presented a problem, as he had grabbed my left leg, which I hadn't realized. Needless to say, I went spilling onto my back and prepared for the inevitable one-count. Silver lining: At least I'd get to screw with HIS mind, too.

Of course, that's not what he did. He grabbed my ankle, twisted it as hard as I've ever felt, and then rolled me over onto my stomach. It was horrible. Here's a guy who doesn't even DO submission holds, using an Achilles tendon hold he probably picked up watching Japanese women, and he was making me his bitch with it. I kicked and flailed as much as I could, hoping I could kick him in the head and get him to release it, but he was ducking out of all the kicks, so... god, I've always hated going for the ropes. It makes me feel so weak. It didn't help that Stevens was at the table yelling, "Orochi is giving Tom Flesher the business here! Who would have thought that OROCHI would be making FLESHER run for the ropes? He's scurrying like a scalded dog!"

"Oh, shut up, Stevens." On second thought, let's keep Riley around. "Orochi's getting lucky, and Flesher will have him on his back in a neck brace before you even know what's going on."

"That was Raynor and Edwin, Bobby."

"Bite me." He really needs to work on his comebacks, though.

I grabbed the ropes. I didn't want to, but I had to if I was going to get back up and put this fucker in his place. Soapdish gave the five-count, and Orochi released me. I stood up and turned to face him. There was a little twinge in my quad, but that's never a big deal. I just made a mental note to warm up for an extra ten minutes when I got my shot against Mags.

I was moving toward the center, but Orochi, that bastard, came at me and started kicking me in the thigh. Now, really. That's not very sportsmanlike, and I showed him how I felt by throwing my arm forward and nailing him in the fucking nose with a shotei. I swear, those are the best strikes ever, if only because of the way people stagger around after them. It also gave me the chance to drop down and nail him in the knee with a dropkick. He stayed up, so I stayed on my back and just swept his leg out from under him. I pushed myself back up to my feet, then NAILED him- really NAILED him- in the face with a sitdown dropkick. God, I love my Docs.

He splayed out onto his back, and I knew what I had to do as far as my next move. I ran up in between his legs, jumped into the air, and slammed both feet down onto his sternum. Unbelievable. The sound it made was just sickening, amazing, and earth-shattering, all rolled into one. I could hear my boots crashing down onto his bone, his breath being forced from him, and I was sure this was going to get the pin. I fell down on top of him for

ONE!

TWO!

THREE- NO! Soapdish started pointing at the ropes, and I realized that fucker had his foot on. I hate it when they do that. So I got pissed off, pulled him to his feet, and whipped him to the ropes. I stepped forward, ready to crush his face with a palm strike... but that bastard blocked it! He ducked down, then came up and slammed me in the chin with an uppercut! Let me tell you, THAT is disorienting. I staggered backwards a little bit, and before I knew what was happening, Orochi whipped me to the ropes. I rebounded, and he nailed me with his flipping arm drag. You just can't believe the impact until you feel it. All the wind got knocked out of me, and I could barely move for a few seconds. I expected him to go for a cover, but... he just grabbed my left leg and started wrenching it again. Christ, that hurt. I don't think anyone can understand how much an ankle lock hurts until they've been in one. They say "Why don't you just kick him in the head," but they just don't know what it feels like.

I did the only thing I could, though. As soon as I got my wind back, I pushed up and did the little somersault move to counter it. I came up with an ankle lock of my own, but before I knew what was happening, Orochi grabbed my leg and spun through again! Christ! This guy's been practicing. Well, I didn't want to do this again, but I had to. I lurched forward and grabbed the bottom rope. Dammit, Tom, why did you have to do that? Orochi shouldn't be beating you with legs. Why couldn't you get your ass in gear?

Nick Soapdish called for the rope break again, and at this point I knew I really had to put my workboots on, as it were. Of course, that was hard, because Orochi had resumed his kicking my thigh relentlessly. Kick... kick... kick... it was just unbelievable. He was trying to get my quad to cramp up on me, which is a sound strategy. That's why I use it so often. Of course, for Orochi, I had switched gears a little bit. Tonight wasn't just about making him tap. It wasn't just about pinning him. I wanted to destroy him, break his neck and show everyone exactly why I'm the top worker in the SWF today.

The first thing I had to do was take care of that pesky kicking to the thigh, though. I tried to just scoot away, but he grabbed me and threw me back against the ropes. I tried to step out into a collar and elbow, but again, he just slammed me back against the cables. There I was, just hoping for some kind of lapse in judgment... which Orochi gave to me by throwing me into the corner. He got in his stance and charged at me, looking for his running knee smash. Of course, I knew that as well as he did, and when he was just about to hit me, I ducked down. I looked up to the SmarkTron to see where he made impact, and with the way he landed, his knee hit the turnbuckle head-on. As such, he was just slumped in the corner.

Perfect.

I stood up, spun around quickly and nailed that son of a bitch in the back of the head with a palm strike. He lurched forward, and he would have fallen over if his arms weren't hooked over the ropes and holding him on his feet. I took a few steps back, then charged at him, slamming his head with a Yakuza kick. (Somtimes I wonder if I ever should have taught Mak that move. I always have to dodge it from him.) Now, it's time for some quick thinking. I knew what I had to do, and I knew it would buy me some time to plan out what I was doing next. I lifted Orochi up and sat him on the top rope, then started a quick golf clap for myself. A few of the fans joined in, and Grand Slam just shouted, "BOW DOWN TO GLORY!" With that, I climbed up to the top rope and threaded my arm in front of his neck, then spidered my legs on the ropes and fell back into the Bow Down To Glory hanging dragon sleeper. That move hurts a little to put on, with the blood rushing to my head, but it's worth it. With all the blood rushing to my head (ONE!), all his blood is rushing to his head, too (TWO!). And even though I only have five seconds (THREE!), I can usually capitalize on the damage really well (FOUR!). That night, I was pretty proud of what I was able to do. After Soapdish finished his count, I slid out from behind Orochi and left him hanging there. It took me a minute to regain my balance, and that nasty quad was starting to cramp up on me, but eventually I got out in front of him and nailed him in the temple with my Doc. I wanted to hit him again, but the ref shoved me away so he could help Orochi get untied. I won't turn down a breather mid-match, especially when it results in my opponent landing on his head through no fault of my own.

Well, Orochi DID come crumbling out of the corner fairly hard, and he was stunned. Of course, I did the only thing a good opponent could do: as soon as Soapdish got out of the way, I ran over and fed Orochi a nice little snack of Doc Marten sole. As soon as he tasted that, I could just tell he wanted more, so I propped him up in the corner, placed my foot on his cheek, and scraped. I could hear Stevens babbling about "Disrespect" this and "No honor" that, but really, all I wanted to do was make an example out of Orochi. If that comes off as disrespectful, then by god, I violated the Code of Honor. I'm shaking in my Martens.

But I digress. I scraped him twice, three times, and one more time just to let him know he's going down to the Superior One. After the boot scrape, it was time. I knew it was time. I lifted him up, whipped him to the opposite corner, and charged in with a Yakuza kick, just for flavor. As he stumbled forward, I shucked him by and spun behind him. I locked my hands around his waist, turned to face the corner, and then arched backwards in what may have been the most beautiful German suplex of my life. I took him over, bridged, and held him for

ONE!

TWO!

THR- NO! He rolled through. 'No big deal,' I thought to myself. 'It's just one kickout.' Stevens, of course, was taking things WAY too seriously.

"Look at the vitality from Orochi!" he said. "After Bowing Down To Glory, a boot scrape and a Yakuza kick, Orochi kicks out of the German suplex! Bobby, I think this change in his personality may have really effected Orochi's ringwork, and especially his ability to absorb punishment."

"Oh, you're just saying that because you're fragile now that you retired. Everything looks disgusting from here, but how long has it been since you TOOK a Yakuza kick?"

No sweat. Orochi kicked out of a German. He also kicked out of a released German earlier. So what? I still had the rest of the night to break his neck. I started over by spinning around and sliding on top of him in a standard freestyle crab ride. He started to move around a little bit, and I wasn't sure exactly what to do, so I just put a wristlock on and let him stand up. The wristlock was useful, of course, for keeping him from moving around too much. He wound up and started to kick at my thigh again, but I jumped it and avoided getting kicked. With that, I figured the best thing to do was to whip him to the ropes. I stayed in the center, ready to catch him for a Railgun... but that fucker came off the ropes and caught me with a leg lariat! Shit. I just remember grabbing my neck and trying to get my wind back, despite the fact that it felt like he had just crushed my trachea. I fell down, but Orochi pulled me back up, only to yank me over his shoulder and slam me down onto the mat with a snap mare. He swung his leg back and kicked me right in the spine. Jesus. I still can't believe how much that hurt. It hurt enough, in fact, to keep me distracted while he sprinted to the ropes and... fucking HELL, you people will never, EVER understand how much it hurts to be hit in the back of the head with someone's knee. Needless to say, it stuns you. A LOT. And that is why, exactly, Orochi was in position to cover me for

ONE!

TWO!

THRE- Nope. I kicked right out of it. At some point, you start doing these things on instinct alone. Besides, as much as it hurts, you can't expect that to put me down. I'm Tom Flesher, dammit. It's going to take more than a knee to the back of the head to put me down for the three-count. I was still a little bit stunned, though, so I wasn't surprised when he picked me up and whipped me into the corner. I knew he was going to charge in and try to hit me with the knee smash again, but this time there was nothing I could do about it. He just charged in and nailed me in the face with his knee. I could feel my head snap back, but as soon as I got my bearings back, I braced for him to throw me. That wasn't what I needed to do, though- that bastard wasn't going to suplex me, or throw me, or slam me. No. He just stepped back a foot or two and kicked me flush in the face. My head snapped back again, and I was groggy for a few seconds. When I came around, there he was again... just kicking my thigh. Over and over and over again. I looked into his face, expecting to see him angry, screaming, or at least flushed. But he wasn't. He was calm, actually grinning. That same sick smile he has when he walks to the ring was just plastered across his face as he wound up and kicked my left quad over and over and over again. I could feel it starting to cramp up, and I stepped forward to smash him with my palm. I caught him fairly solidly on the jaw, and he staggered back, but I just couldn't capitalize.

He came at me again, trying to clothesline me. I ducked and grabbed his arm, then spun behind him to cross his arms over his stomach for a straitjacket suplex. He must have known I was still groggy, though. Orochi took a few steps forward, then dropped to his knees and sent me careening into the turnbuckle. My head smashed into it. Before I knew what was happening, I was falling backwards from the impact. I don't know hoe he kept his wits about him, but he managed to slide onto me for

ONE!

TWO!

But once again, I found the strength to kick out. I was really getting scared. I didn't let it show on the outside, but fuck. Orochi had just gotten two near-falls on me in only a few minutes, and my brains were still sort of scrambled. I needed a breather, and I needed it NOW.

What better way to do that than to slide out of the ring? Ah, bailing to the floor. How many times you've saved me. I got out there, but- just as I knew he would- Orochi slid right out after me. He didn't want to wait for me to get rested up and come back in on my own volition. I can't say I blame him, either. He came out and just grabbed me, trying to whip me into the corner ringpost. I managed to fend him off for a few moments with a flurry of palm strikes, but he just kept coming at me. Ever since the name change, it's like he's possessed. I just don't understand how one man can change that completely overnight. I tried to fend him off, but he just grabbed me and tried to whip me into the cornerpost again. This time, though, I planted my feet, got some purchase, and reversed the motion to send him crashing into the post. He stumbled backwards, and at that point I really had no choice other than to charge at him and nail him with a Yakuza kick that sent his head bouncing off of the ringpost. The sound that move makes is just sickening, but sometimes it just has to be done. The proof was right there at my feet, when Orochi collapsed into a stunned, sickened heap.

I took a few deep breaths and pulled him up to his feet, then propped him up on the apron. I slid in, ran to the opposite side, and did the one thing I've always wanted to do to him: I grabbed the middle rope and swung out, nailing him flush in his fucking face with my baseball slide dropkick. He fell back into the guardrail, and I slid out to the floor again. I grabbed him by the tights and slid him into the ring, then followed him right back out.

"Well," I could hear Stevens saying in the background, "that right there ought to do it for Orochi."

"Yeah," chimed in Riley. "I don't see ANYONE getting up from that."

I heard them, and I heard the fans cheering, and it got in the way of my judgment. I knew I needed to drop him on his head just to keep him down, and I knew I needed to knock him out and break his neck to really clinch my berth in the top of the card... but for whatever reason, I let them get to my head. I put my right foot onto his chest, flexed both my biceps, and stood there. Stevens shouted, "ARROGANT PIN!"

Riley replied, "This is the defining moment of Ashes To Ashes 2002!!!"

Nick Soapdish counted

ONE!

TWO!

THREE!

NO!!!!!!!! THE FOOT ON THE ROPES! Holy GOD, was I mad. I was getting frustrated, too. I tried not to let it show, but I was just getting so pissed off at Orochi. I grabbed him by his wrist and pulled him to his feet, hoping to get a front chancery and set up a brainbuster. Of course, as soon as I locked up the hold, Orochi grabbed my left leg and yanked it up. He was trying to take me to the mat, but I kept my balance too well for him to put me onto the canvas. Instead, he managed to take a look at his options, and just unloaded with an unbelievable kick to my hamstring. He let my leg go, but I fell down as soon as he released it. Orochi grabbed my right leg and started to spin with it. I could hear Grand Slam shouting, "Orochi is going for the figure four leglock! We don't see this out of him very often, but he's been working on Tom Flesher's leg for the whole match!" I tried to kick him away to the ropes as he spun around, but I just couldn't muster up the strength. My left quad was really starting to cramp up as we moved on later and later into the match. Finally, as he came all the way around, I had my last chance to counter the figure four: I grabbed Orochi by the hair, pulled him down to the mat and locked up a small package! I rolled him through and Soapdish counted

ONE!

TWO!

NO! Orochi kicked out, and I'll never forget the look on his face as he bounded back up to his feet while I tried to regain my balance on my left leg. He looked at me with that sickening smile, and as he leaned back to kick me again, he just said, "Come into the light, Tom."

WHACK, he kicked me right in the quad.

"Come into the light."

WHACK.

"Just go. It can't hurt you. Come into the light and BE PURIFIED!"

With that, he wound up and slammed his boot into my face. I staggered backwards and fell to the mat in a ridiculous, pathetic heap. I've watched that sequence over and over since that match. I'll never get over how truly terrible I looked at that moment. It was like watching a baby trying to take a step, and falling flat on his ass. Even worse... I looked up, looked at the SmarkTron, and all I saw was my own face, with a gaping cut across my forehead. Orochi had busted me open.

That was when I realized what I had to do. He was coming at me again, looking for another excuse to kick me in the fucking thigh again. I slid away and pulled myself up on the ropes. Before he could get near me, I leaned back to build up some momentum from the cables, then ran forward and nailed him in the jaw with a palm strike. He stumbled backwards. Even though the blood was starting to dribble down my forehead and into my eyes, I had enough sense to follow the palm strike up with another, and another, and another, hammering Orochi's face, jaw and neck relentlessly. I knew I couldn't let up, because my thigh was starting to cramp up unbelievably, and if I stopped moving, either it would freeze up and I'd be left with a useless limb, or Orochi would start hammering it again and hasten the process.

So what could I do? Nothing, besides the obvious continual hammering of his head. I kept throwing palm blows. I wanted to dropkick his knee and take him to the mat, but I didn't want to risk missing and leaving myself vulnerable on the ground. He is, after all, a sadist, and he always has been. I knew I couldn't leave myself open to attack. I knew I had to keep fighting, keep striking until the moment was right. I managed to get Orochi backed up against the ropes, so I shuffled backwards. When he stepped forward, I grabbed him around the torso and, as quickly as I could, threw him overhead in a Railgun suplex. I had to go quickly, because my leg was about to collapse out from under me. He landed flat on his back, and I did much the same. His wind was knocked out, though, and so that put me in FAR better position. I rolled over on top of him, and Nick Soapdish counted

ONE!

TWO!

THR- NO!!!!!! Orochi kicked right out! Unbelievable. Just simply unbelievable. I started to push myself up to my feet, and I remember just looking out to the crowd, watching every face in the stands, and wondering what the FUCK I had to do to keep Orochi down. I could hear Stevens saying that I was wearing the crimson mask. I grabbed Orochi's hair and tried not to think about it, but... then, all of a sudden, he said, "And he's even putting on the crimson t-shirt!" I couldn't help but look over to the SmarkTron. I blinked a few times to clear the blood out of my eyes, and I saw that not only was there a thick line of blood down my face, but it was starting to collect on my chest and even beginning to stain the edges of my singlet straps. I shook my head, trying to clear the cobwebs and regain my senses... but that just sent blood splattering all over the ring. That was easily the most disheartening part of the whole match. I almost got sick when I saw my blood dripping down off of my forehead and onto the mat as I grabbed Orochi in a front chancery to lock up a brainbuster. I yanked him forward, and tried to lift him... but my knee just couldn't take it. My whole leg felt like it was jello. Orochi took that opportunity straight from me, and stood all the way up. He arched backwards, slamming me down with a bridging Northern Lights suplex! I struggled and tried to kick out.

ONE!

I couldn't bridge, because of the leg...

TWO!

... and my strength was getting sapped with every heartbeat that sent blood spilling out of my body and onto the canvas....

THRE-

But somehow I found the strength to kick out of the Northern Lights. I rolled through, and I saw Orochi's chest heaving. Two things were obvious to me: First, he was gassed from his final big move of the night. Second, that it was time to break his neck.

I rolled over and grabbed Orochi by the arm. I wrenched his left arm, pulling him toward me, knowing that I was going to make my name on his motionless body as soon as I finished just one more slam. I grabbed him and pulled him until he was standing straight up... and he started slamming his boot into my left quad.... again... and again, and again and again! The pain was unbelievable, and the loss of blood was making me light-headed and faint. He kicked me over and over again, and finally I built up the strength to nail him with one solid shotei, flat in the Adams' apple. I knew that would silence him.

All I could hear from the announcers was Stevens shouting, "CAN HE DO IT? CAN FLESHER FINISH OROCHI AND CEMENT HIS STATURE AS THE TOP WORKER IN THE SWF?!"

I spun him around and got behind him. I locked my hands around Orochi's waist and lifted him up in position for a backdrop suplex. I knew that a straight-up backdrop driver wasn't going to put Orochi down. I knew it was time for the Blue Thunder Bomb.

I started my spin to swing Orochi over into position for the sit-out power bomb that would land him flat on his back for the pin. I finished my first back-step on my right leg, then stepped through with my left leg.

"OH MY GOD!!!!!!!"

It collapsed.

"FLESHER'S LEG GAVE OUT ON HIM!!!! What a horrible break," said Stevens. "What a waste!"

And, spat Riley, "What a crock."

But all I remember is laying on the mat, clutching my leg. I looked up at the SmarkTron, and I saw a sight that made me sicker than anything, even losing as much blood as I already had. I saw, on the big screen, Tom Flesher looking pathetic. Needing help.

Inferior.

And then, Orochi lifted my sore leg up and unloaded one more kick to the hamstring. The pain was unbelievable. I grabbed at it, and for some reason, he let me have it. I thought he was having a change of heart, until I realized that he was grabbing my right leg instead. I felt him spinning around, and I made a half-hearted effort to kick him away, but my left leg just couldn't handle the pressure. When he spun all the way through, I tried to grab him for a small package, but... he just headbutted me. He grinned at me, sickeningly, and I remember nothing as vividly as watching him fall back into that figure four leglock with a giant stain on his forehead made of my fresh blood.

The pain was excruciating. My left leg was jello. I blinked, trying to hold on, the blood and sweat pooling in my eyes and stinging. Oh, sweet release brought on by tapping... but there was no way I could tap out. Not tonight. Not when I'm going to build my reputation by cracking Orochi's spine.

Fuck.

"Dammit, Tom..." I remember thinking, "no. No, you're not going to tap out."

God DAMN.

"No, Tom," I said to myself. "No no no no no."

Holy SHIT.

"NO!"

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

I bit my lip, holding out as long as I could. It was a long time before I could focus on the arena's lights, between the blood, the sweat and the searing pain. I took a deep breath, and I knew what I had to do.

I shouted.

"YOU'LL NEVER MAKE ME TAP!"

And with that, I focused on the lights directly above me, and I felt my vision slip away.

*****

Nick Soapdish drops down to the mat, checking the bloody Tom Flesher for any signs of life.

"Tom Flesher has succumbed to Orochi!" shouts Grand Slam Mark Stevens. "He refused to tap, but Orochi has locked him in a figure four leglock and Tom has passed out from the pain!"

Soapdish shrugs, unsure what to do next, and realizes that Flesher is flat on his back. Lacking any better course of action, he counts

ONE!

TWO!

THREE!!!!!!!

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

Orochi smirks, releasing the hold obediently as Nick Soapdish reaches over the top rope for the ICTV Title. He gets to his feet, Tom Flesher's blood staining his pure white hair, and Soapdish hands him the newly-won championship belt.

"Your winner," says Funyon, "and NEW SWF Intercontinental Television Champion, he is the Lightbringer.... OROCHI!!!!!!!!!"

Orochi walks toward the ring steps, but pauses next to Flesher. He drops to one knee, silently, and wipes his hand across his brow, collecting Flesher's blood. Smiling sickly, Orochi takes his handful of blood and leaves a sick red handprint on Flesher's singlet.

"You," he says, "You, Tom Flesher, have been purified."

December 2, 2002

Ba-boom!

An eerie heartbeat disrupts the silence left from the darkness brought on through the termination of the arena lights. With the previous match complete, the main event looms near, and the fans are anxious to witness what could either be a huge comeback event, or a colossal flop. Either way, they are all silent now with their eyes and ears focused on the SmarkTron which begins illuminate a small portion of the arena.

Ba-boom!

That voice…that eerie, sinister voice that the federation has become accustom to over the past month breaths heavily over the PA system…

“They wanted him gone”

“They wished him dead”

“They took everything from him”

“Robbed him of his soul”

In the background of the SmarkTron, a fiery red backdrop flickers to the heartbeat as the voice continues…

“They laughed at his pain”

“Rejoiced in his anguish”

“Reveled in suffering”

“Celebrated in his sorrow”

The flickering red converts to the picture of a graveyard, still cutting in and out with the heartbeat. The wind blows hard, forcing the trees to reach out and touch the broken and withered slabs of stone representing the final resting place of those buried on the lot. With each heartbeat, the picture begins to zoom in on a particular gravestone, but the voice continues…

“The day or reckoning is here”

“You can’t run”

“You can’t hide”

“You can only accept your fate”

“And watch the inevitable”

The heartbeat is faster now, and the image of the graveyard is more like a strobe light that dashes the arena with light before snatching it away just as quickly. After a furious stutter, the image settles on a gravestone which reads just as the sinister voice speaks:

“Because the end…”

“…is now!”

“And he returns…”

“TONIGHT!”

The SmarkTron cuts away and the voice is now replaced with that of Mark Stevens, setting up the main event through video montage.

“Over the past 3 months, El Luchadore Magnifico has truly become the champion of champions.”

A clip of ELM punching Sacred.

“He has etched his name in the SWF history books by becoming only the second 3-time SWF World Heavyweight Champion.”

ELM hoists his world title belt skyward as he defeats Sacred for the second time in as many months.

“The kooky luchadore has taken on all comers, and won, all the while, winning over the hearts of millions of fans.”

A shot of a crowd at a house show where ELM signs completely cover the arena.

“He has become the hottest superstar in the SWF, and has been the leader of the pack, despite the departure of all of his Carnival brethren.”

An old photo of Mark Stevens, Edwin MacPhisto, Z, and ELM adds sentimental value to the segment.

“What could possibly be left for the SWF’s greatest champion?”

An disturbing red question mark enters the fray, before cutting away to a clip of an unaired promo…

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

I want to face the one who has been interrupting SWF shows, saying that he will soon return. From the looks of it, whoever it is must be an incredible competitor, worthy of a shot for the SWF World Title.” Regales Magnifico.

“Out of the question.” Says Stubby, shooting down the luchadore.

“Why not?!” snaps Magnifico, more annoyed than ever.

“Mag, you don’t even know who the hell this returning guy is! I don’t even know! It could be the fucking Exploding Chicken, and that’s not a Main Event I want for my PPV!” Stubby shouts.

“I’m willing to take that chance.” Magnifico states.

“I’m not.” Stubby responds, steadfast.

“Listen, jefe, I refuse to fight anyone you choose.” Magnifico announces, stubbornly. “I will only defend my Title at the PPV if I face the person who is returning.”

“Fine, then you won’t be on the show at all.” Stubby declares, “And, you won’t get paid for the show either, unless you face who I choose.”

Magnifico glares at the cool and collected Stubby, the anger building inside the luchadore with every passing second.

“I will have my match, Stubby.” States Magnifico. “And there’s not a thing you can do about it.”

“That’s what you think, Mag. I’ve already spelled this out for you; in this federation, I can do whatever I want to whoever I want.”

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

The montage cuts to another promo that aired on last week’s Storm…

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

"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.

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

“And so it was set…El Luchadore Magnifico, looking for a challenge after proving he is the best of the best…takes on the man behind the myth.”

A shot of connecting with a Mexican Pride Press on some unworthy opponent cuts in.

“Is ELM walking into a trap?”

The graveyard shot returns.

“Can he handle THIS challenge?”

ELM is super imposed, in black and white, on the graveyard scene.

“Or, will this mystery be Magnifico’s last challenge, his championship run laid to rest?”

The camera pans to a gravestone to the right, which reads, “Here lies El Luchadore Magnifico”.

Boom!

December 2, 2002

(Funyon) – Ladies and gentlemen…the moment you’ve all been waiting for….it is time for the MAIN EVENT! The following contest is scheduled for one fall and is for the SWF HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPIONSHIP OF THE WORLD!!! Introducing first…

“UNO!”

BOOM!

“DOS!”

BOOM!

“TRES!”

BOOM!

“CUATRO!”

BOOM!

The entire arena erupts as “Mission Trip to Mexico” hits the speakers, and it reaches an fevered pitch as the SWF World Champion, El Luchadore Magnifico, bursts through the curtain atop the stage. The champion stands atop the stage, proudly waving his Mexican flag high, before waltzing down the ramp to the enormous ovation he is accustomed to receiving.

(Funyon) - …weighing in at one-hundred and ninety-three pounds…he hails from Mexico City, Mexico…he is the SWF WORLD HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPION…ELLLLL LUUUUUCHADOOOOORE MAAAAGNIIIIFFFIIIICOOOOOOOO!!!!

The explosion from the crowd is indescribable as the world champion’s name is called, while ELM makes his way down the ramp, slapping a few hands on the way. He’s bouncing with excitement, much like the thousands and thousands of fans, and as he reaches the bottom of the ramp, he breaks into a sprint and slides under the bottom rope.

(Stevens) – There he is! The SWF World Heavyweight Champion…and what a champion he has been…completely destroying all competitors during this his, unprecedented, third title reign.

(Riley) – Unprecedented? I think not…or are we forgetting a great champion by the name of Rane.

(Stevens) – Well, I was implying that it is unprecedented because it’s been so long since anyone has accomplished that feat. You can’t deny the ability, the heart, the desire of Magnifico…who consistently defies the odds here in the SWF!

Meanwhile, in the ring, ELM stands atop the second turnbuckle on the near right side waving his flag while the fans continue to blast him with cheers.

“E-L-M!”

(Stevens) – And would you just listen to these fans…good God! They love the kooky luchadore!!

(Riley) – Well, you’ve gotta love Magnifico, if for nothing else, his huge heart and everything he’s done in the ring. But…what we’re failing to realize is that all this could be over for him tonight as he faces someone that not even you or I know anything about.

(Stevens) – You’re certainly right there Bobby…although, I suppose it could very well be a woman…but yes…this could be ELM’s greatest challenge yet. He knows nothing about his opponent…hell…he doesn’t even know who it is yet. How do you prepare for such a contest?

(Riley) – That’s the thing…you can’t. You have to go on sheer instincts…or pray…one or the other.

Inside the ring, ELM has turned over his flag, and, after stretching a little, stands with his back to the far ropes as he watches the entrance. The camera pans over ELM’s face, showing both excitement and a little nervousness as the champion awaits his yet-to-be-named opponent.

(Stevens) – Well, we’ll just have to wait and see how the champion handles this contest…but I have to believe that he’s just a little nervous.

Suddenly, the lights black out in the arena…

(Riley) – Oh…here we go…

(Stevens) – The wait is over! We find out now! Oh…the suspense…!

A heartbeat begins to pound the amplifiers in the arena sound system as the arena is filled with a deep crimson hue. It’s still too dark to see anything, but the SmarkTron is the focus of everyone in attendance at this point. The video feed shows nothing by fire on the SmarkTron, as everyone waits anxiously…until a voice…that voice…that sinister, evil voice breaks in…

“The time has come”

“They took everything from him”

“His career”

“His life”

“His hopes, his dreams”

“They took it all”

“Ever since…he has vowed revenge”

“Revenge on those that stole everything from him”

“Once, the greatest of all time”

“Shall be the greatest again”

“Vengence shall come”

“For they will pay for what they did to him”

“Heed this warning”

“The end is here”

“For he returns”

“NOW!”

A long pause as the letters “WYS” fly onto the Smarktron…

…silence…nothing but silence…

The voice…it laughs…

“MUWHAHAHAHAHA!”

Suddenly, an all-to-familiar electric guitar clips the amps and pounds the eardrums of all in attendance, but it doesn’t take the fans long to drown out the extremely loud music. They scream, shout, stomp…whatever it takes…louder than anyone has ever heard before. They know that laugh…they know that music…how they have missed it…and the chorus begins…

“They don’t know…”

“Who we be!”

(Stevens) – OH SWEET MOTHER OF GOD!! I CAN’T BELIEVE IT!! I CAN’T FUCKIN’ BELIEVE IT!!

(Riley) – YES!!! YES!!! OH GOD, YES!!

“They don’t know…”

“Who we be!”

The crowd noise reaches explosive levels…

“What they don’t know is…”

BOOM!!

A huge explosion leaves a wall of fire across the stage in its wake, leaving only a small path in the center, as the fans lose their minds and the first verse of the song begins.

“The bullshit”

“The drama”

“The guns”

“The armor”

In the path left by the wall of fire, a dark figure creeps forward, a black towel over his head (like Tazz), and as the figure makes his way to the part of the path where the fire is on both sides of him, the arena continues to grow louder than ever thought humanly possible…because he is back!

(Funyon) – And his opponent…weighing in at three-hundred and ninety-eight pounds…from Washington, DC…he is the 2 time former SWF Tag Team Champion…former SWF ICTV Champion…former 2-time SWF Heavyweight Champion of the World…HE IS…THE H……VIIIIIILLLLLLLEEEEE……THUUUUUUUUUUUGGGGGGGGGG!!!!

(Stevens) – HE’S BACK! FOR GOD’S SAKE…HE’S BACK!! I CAN’T BELIEVE IT!! OH MY GOD!!

(Riley) – It was all worth it…the wait was worth it…I never thought…OH MY GOD!!!

HVT begins his slow decent to the ring, the towel still draped over his head, but a pan back to ELM in the ring shows the champion holding onto the far ropes, his face white as a cloud and his jaw on the floor. While walking, HVT grabs the towel and, without looking, tosses it aside into the crowd. A good shot of his Thugg’s face shows a rage never duplicated by another human being, and his eyes show pain like no man has ever felt.

(Riley) – This is bad…real bad for Magnifico. I’m willing to bet that he didn’t, in his wildest dreams, think that the mystery man would be the biggest, baddest son of a bitch to ever set foot inside the squared circle.

(Stevens) – You are so right on that one Riley…I don’t think this ever crossed Magnifico’s mind…

(Riley) – He’s really gotta be questioning what he has gotten himself into tonight…

(Stevens) – Maybe…maybe…One thing that’s really gotta concern ELM at this point is that throughout his entire career…through all the battles these two have had in the past…he has never beaten Thugg…EVER!

(Riley) – OH! That’s right…Ooooo…I wonder what Stubby’s thinking right now?

HVT reaches the ring, and pulls himself up to the apron by grabbing the top rope, meanwhile, the fans still set decibel level records inside the arena. While stepping over the top rope and into the ring, HVT never breaks his eye-lock on Magnifico, who just stares blankly back at the one man wrecking crew.

(Riley) – This is going to get real ugly, real quickly.

HVT stands tall in the ring, his eyes still locked on ELM, as the referee stands between the two. As Kivell raises the belt to the sky, HVT walks to the center of the ring and stands. ELM, sensing something, leaves his post at the far ropes and slowly walks towards the center. He walks a little less confident than usual…but you would too if you had to stand in the ring with Thugg. The fans cheering dies down, as they know the history between these two men, and can feel the tension in the air at this moment.

(Stevens) – Oh, this is going to be an explosive encounter…the history between these two competitors is unparalled…I can only imagine what they would like to do to each other.

After a few moments, ELM and HVT stand toe to toe…nose to chest…with ELM looking up into HVT’s dark eyes. The fans go deafly silent as they wait to see what happens next…Stevens and Riley sit on the edge of their seats, waiting as well. Time passes slowly and the tension mounts…until HVT breaks the silence by….

…SHAKING HANDS with Magnifico!

(Riley) – WHAT?? WHAT?? WHAT IS THAT??

(Stevens) – What respect they have for one another! After all they’ve been through…the respect these two have for each other is really special! I’m happy to see that they have buried the hatchet, so to speak, and now look to go out and put on a really special match! Now that’s class!

The two former enemies meet with a manly hug and a few words, while the fans completely lose it with excitement. Happy to see the two faces show mutual respect, half the arena starts up an “E-L-M” chant, while the other half performs an “H-V-T” chant.

(Riley) – I can’t say that I’m as happy to see this shameless camaraderie. It’s sickening…these two have such a storied history, it’s just sad to see them ruin it like this.

(Stevens) – You are a sad, sad excuse for a human being…anyway…having been in some battles with Thugg, and enjoying a good run with ELM in the Carnival, I think it’s nice to see them bury the hatchet…especially since both are fan favorites.

After a few moments, HVT and ELM back away from each other, both agreeing to put on one hell of a show tonight, followed closely by the bell.

DING DING DING

(Stevens) – And here we go…El Luchadore Magnifico…The Hville Thugg…SWF World Heavyweight Title!

ELM darts in and out as he circles Thugg, who lumbers around in a circle, as each man tries to feel the other out.

(Stevens) – I’m curious to see how Thugg does in this his return match. He looks great…looks like he lost weight…and he looks ripped now. Guess that time off did him some good, wouldn’t you say?

(Riley) – Oh yeah…it sure did…not only did he hit the weight room and lose weight…but he also lost his freakin’ marbles! Friends with Magnifico?? What is this world coming to?

(Stevens) – Oh, give it a rest Bobby…you’ll live. But seriously…Thugg looks great…but there’s certainly bound to be some ring rust.

Apparently done with the “feeling out” process, Magnifico suddenly charges directly at Thugg, locking up with him in the center of the ring! Of course, this proves to be completely foolish, as HVT immediately shoves Magnifico to the ground, grinning to himself as the luchadore pops back to his feet. ELM glares at Thugg for a second before donning a grin of his own and restarting the circling process.

(Stevens) – Hahahaha…Magnifico quickly realizing that a lock-up with a man you’re giving 200 pounds to isn’t such a great idea. Thugg and Mag will share a laugh about that one late, I’m sure.

After a bit more stalling, Magnifico charges at Thugg once again, ducking beneath HVT’s arm as he swings it wildly at the luchadore! HVT spins around to face Magnifico, and as he does so, the luchadore begins pounding away at his gut, stunning Thugg with his rapid punching! After landing about ten shots and stunning Thugg somewhat, Magnifico suddenly turns around and makes a break for the ropes behind him, before bouncing off of them and rushing back towards HVT!

(Stevens) – Magnifico on the offensive…off the ropes…

But as he approaches, Thugg suddenly throws his foot into the air, driving it directly into Magnifico’s face and knocking him to the ground with a Big Boot!

(Riley) – HAHAHAHAHA!! See, that’s what Magnifico gets…silly foreigner…

(Stevens) – Boot to the face from Thugg, who certainly knows Magnifico well, and despite ring rust, should be able to anticipate ELM’s high flying moves.

Magnifico begins climbing back to his feet almost as soon as he hits the ground, only to have Thugg grab ELM by the arm while he’s on one knee and jerk him to his feet. Thugg then uses his grip to whip Magnifico hard across the ring, sending the luchadore rushing towards the far corner. Just prior to impact, Magnifico turns his body around, crashing into the turnbuckles back-first with a terrific THUD! As soon as ELM hits the turnbuckles, Thugg suddenly breaks into a charge, barreling towards the luchadore at top speed! Right before Thugg can crush Magnifico, the luchadore suddenly dives out of the corner, leaving HVT to collide with the turnbuckles chest-first! Magnifico steps behind Thugg as the big man slowly backs out of the corner, holding his chest in pain.

(Stevens) - There’s some of that ring rust I was talking about! Thugg made an uncharacteristic mistake by blindly charging at Magnifico.

(Riley) - Ring rust or not, the fact remains that Thugg is twice as heavy and about five times as strong as Magnifico! ELM doesn’t have a chance in hell if HVT ever does get a hold of him!

Once out of the corner, Thugg slowly turns around, coming face-to-face with Magnifico! The luchadore decides to greet HVT by throwing his head into Thugg’s gut, driving him back into the corner with a crude Spear! With Thugg up against the turnbuckles, Magnifico grabs his right arm, throwing it over the top rope. ELM then interlocks his fists and begins pounding away at Thugg’s right shoulder, causing the giant to grimace with each blow. Suddenly, Thugg reaches out with his free hand, using it to bash Magnifico in the nose! The fans OOOH! in unison as ELM turns away from Thugg and stumbles cross the ring, holding his face. HVT steps out of the corner and comes up behind Magnifico as ELM spins around to face the big man. But as he does so, Thugg simply bashes Magnifico in the face again, causing the luchadore to stumble back-first into the turnbuckles! As ELM leans against the corner, dazed, Thugg slowly walks up to him, delivering a stiff kick to Magnifico’s gut as he does so! ELM doubles over in pain, allowing Thugg to grab him by the arm and use his grip to whip Magnifico across the ring, towards the far corner. ELM rushes towards the corner, but as he approaches, the luchadore suddenly hits the mat in a Baseball Slide-like maneuver, skidding to a halt right before the steel post! As soon as he comes to a stop, Magnifico pops back to his feet, charging at Thugg as he stands! Surprised, HVT lashes out with a Clothesline, which Magnifico deftly ducks beneath! ELM keeps on running after avoiding the Clothesline, heading for the corner behind Thugg! Magnifico leaps onto the second turnbuckle of said corner, then turns to face Thugg as HVT turns to face ELM! Magnifico leaps off of the second turnbuckle, bringing his interlocked fists down onto Thugg’s right shoulder with a Double Axe Handle! HVT clutches his shoulder and turns away from Magnifico, grimacing in pain as he does so. With Thugg facing away from him, ELM charges at him from behind, leaping at HVT’s leg as he approaches! Magnifico clips Thugg’s right leg in mid-air, causing Thugg to lose his footing and fall flat on his back, shaking the ring with the impact!

(Stevens) - Well Riley, it looks like Thugg may never get his hands on Magnifico! The luchadore seems to be just too quick for HVT to catch!

(Riley) - Maybe if that bouncy little bastard would face Thugg like a man, HVT would be able to kill him!

(Stevens) - ...this isn’t a fight to the death, Riley-

(Riley) - Kill!!

Magnifico pops back to his feet just as Thugg is knocked off of his, heading over to HVT’s right shoulder the second he stands up. ELM immediately begins to stomp rapidly at Thugg’s shoulder, greatly agitating HVT as he begins climbing back to his feet. Despite the stomps, Thugg slowly manages to push himself onto one knee, which prompts Magnifico to turn around and make a break for the ropes behind him! ELM bounces off of the ropes and rushes back towards Thugg, but as he approaches, HVT suddenly thrusts out his left arm, grabbing Magnifico around the throat with his massive hand! The fans OHHH! in unison as ELM, a shocked look on his face, struggles to breathe with Thugg clamping down on his neck! Suddenly, Thugg uses his grip to shove Magnifico backwards into the ropes, which the luchadore bounces off of as HVT slowly stands up! ELM rushes back towards Thugg, and as he approaches, the big man delivers a stiff kick to his gut, doubling Magnifico over in the center of the ring! With ELM doubled over, Thugg is able to quickly maneuver him into a Suplex hold. HVT keeps Magnifico in that position for a second, before hoisting ELM upwards, holding him perpendicular to the mat as if for a Vertical Suplex! But instead of driving Magnifico into the mat, Thugg simply keeps him up in the air, showcasing his freakish strength for all to see!

(Riley) - Hah, there we go! We’ll see how well Magnifico can fight when all the blood is rushing to his head!

The fans slowly grow louder and louder in amazement as HVT holds ELM in mid-air for upwards of fifteen seconds...before falling backwards, slamming Magnifico into the canvas with a Extreme Stalling Suplex! The ring shudders with the impact of both men falling to the mat, shaking even as Thugg slides onto Magnifico for the pin. HVT hooks the leg to a mixed reaction from the fans as the ref slides into position and begins counting...

ONE...

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

(Stevens) - A very impressive display of strength from Thugg with his Stalling Suplex, but it doesn’t seem to have much more effect than a regular Vertical Suplex.

(Riley) - Who cares? Thugg will have plenty of time to squash the pesky little Mexican later on. Right now, it’s all about the showmanship, baby!

Thugg quickly gets off of Magnifico and climbs back to his feet. HVT then reaches down and grabs ELM by the arm, using his grip to jerk Magnifico to his feet and then to whip him across the ring, towards the far ropes. Magnifico bounces off of said ropes and rushes back towards Thugg, and as he approaches, HVT grabs ELM by the arm and waist, effortlessly lifting the luchadore into the air with a Military Press! With Magnifico over his head, struggling wildly to free himself, Thugg slowly walks over to the nearby corner with the intention of dropping ELM face-first on the top turnbuckle! But as Thugg approaches the corner, Magnifico suddenly slips out of his grasp, landing on his feet right behind HVT! The second he lands, ELM grabs Thugg’s right arm, before taking it and leaping over the nearby top rope! As Magnifico falls, he drives Thugg’s arm over the top rope, forcing HVT to withdraw it in pain as ELM lands on the outside! The fans both cheer and boo as Thugg grabs his arm and turns away from the corner, while Magnifico hops onto the apron and begins climbing the corner closest HVT! ELM reaches the top turnbuckle in a matter of seconds, and crouches patiently on it as Thugg faces away from the corner. Unwittingly, HVT finally begins turning around, and as he does so, ELM leaps off of the top turnbuckle, drawing a wave of flashbulb light from the audience! Thugg faces Magnifico just in time to see the luchadore flying towards him and kick his legs out, driving them into HVT’s right arm with a Missile Dropkick! The fans almost all cheer for the flashy Dropkick as Thugg, clutching his arm, stumbles backwards, struggling to keep on his feet!

(Stevens) - Magnifico is simply relentless in his working on Thugg’s arm! If HVT isn’t careful, he won’t be able to do anything with it after a while!

(Riley) - Bah, says you! Even with one dead arm, Thugg has the strength of five cyborg bears!

(Stevens) - ...and of course, we all know about the dreaded strength of the cyborg bears.

(Riley) - Of course.

ELM takes a second to get back to his feet, but once he does, the luchadore charges directly at Thugg, who is bent over in front of the corner, clutching his arm in pain! But as Magnifico approaches, HVT suddenly takes a step forward and lashes out with his left arm, absolutely pummeling ELM with a stiff Clothesline! The force of the Clothesline actually sends Magnifico into a complete 450, as the luchadore achieves a full backflip before landing on the mat, drawing a prolonged OHHHH! and some cheers from the crowd. Thugg takes a second to tend to his arm, shaking off the pain that shoots through it before grabbing Magnifico by the arm and jerking him to his feet. HVT then throws Magnifico into the nearby corner, back-first, causing the luchadore to arch his back in pain as he collides with the turnbuckles. With ELM stunned in the corner, Thugg is easily able to pound away at him, nearly knocking the luchadore over the top rope with his massive punches to the face. After landing about five blows, Thugg backs away from Magnifico, allowing the luchadore to slump against the turnbuckles, grabbing the top ropes to stay on his feet. HVT takes about six or seven steps out of the corner...and then charges forward, barreling towards Magnifico at top speed! Thugg throws himself right into the luchadore, crushing him into the corner with a Running Splash! The fans OHHH!, boo, and cheer simultaneously as Magnifico drunkenly stumbles out of the corner, before falling onto the mat, face-first! Thugg slowly drops onto his knees and grabs Magnifico by the shoulder, turning him onto his stomach before falling onto the luchadore for the cover. The ref slides into position and begins counting as the indecisive fans grow ever louder...

ONE...

TWO...No! Magnifico gets a shoulder up at two and a half, drawing mainly cheers from the audience.

(Stevens) - Ugh, I can only imagine what it’s like for a smaller guy like Magnifico to be crushed by a giant like Thugg.

(Riley) - It’s not that bad, actually. Once you get used to the punctured lungs and all, it’s like a great, big, smothering hug.

(Stevens) - ...you realize that I’m going to ignore that, right?

(Riley) - *sigh* Yeah, I know.

Thugg slowly pushes himself off of Magnifico and stands up, towering over the motionless luchadore. HVT looks behind him and then begins to slowly back up, falling onto the ropes right behind him. Thugg bounces off of said ropes and lumbers back towards Magnifico, before leaping into the air, sticking out his legs as he does so! As HVT falls, his legs land directly on ELM’s throat, crushing it with a Leg Drop! Magnifico grabs his neck with both hands and flails around on the mat, struggling to breathe as HVT slowly stands back up. Thugg then reaches down and grabs Magnifico’s hand, pulling it away from his neck as he jerks the luchadore to his feet. Thugg then uses his grip to whip Magnifico into the far ropes, which ELM rushes towards while still choking for breath. Magnifico bounces off of the ropes and runs back towards Thugg, and as he approaches, HVT wraps his arms around the luchadore’s waist, capturing him in a Front Waistlock!

(Riley) - He caught him! Thugg is gonna squash Magnifico with a huge Belly-to-Belly Suplex!

But before Thugg can do anything with the Front Waistlock, Magnifico begins pounding away at HVT’s right shoulder, wildly striking it with his fists while HVT grimaces in pain. After landing countless blows, Thugg’s grip finally weakens, allowing Magnifico to break free of it! The second he’s out of HVT’s grasp, ELM turns around and makes a break for the ropes behind him, bouncing off of them as Thugg tends to his shoulder! ELM rushes back towards Thugg, and as he approaches, Magnifico throws his entire body, head-first, into HVT’s gut with a Spear! Thugg doubles over and backs up several steps, falling into the ropes as he struggles to stay on his feet! Magnifico again rushes towards the ropes he just bounced off of and bounces off of them again, charging towards the dazed Thugg at top speed! As the luchadore approaches HVT, he leaps into the air, extending his arms and legs as he does so for a Running Cross-Body! Magnifico makes perfect contact with the Cross-Body, crashing into Thugg’s chest and knocking the big man over the top rope! Unfortunately, Magnifico can’t exactly stop himself, so he falls over the top rope as well, crashing onto the floor right next to the Hville Thugg! The fans release a surprised OHHHH! before bursting into cheers, as Thugg and Magnifico lay motionless on the floor!

(Stevens) - Whoa! Both men go tumbling to the outside after Magnifico crashes into Thugg with a Cross-Body!

(Riley) - See, now Magnifico’s just being mean! There was no point in knocking Thugg to the outside, especially when ELM went out with him! What a jerk.

As both men begin to stir on the outside, the ref starts his count, throwing his fingers into the air and shouting “ONE!” Thugg and Magnifico slowly begin pushing themselves to their feet, with ELM moving significantly faster than HVT. Magnifico is on his feet by the three count, while HVT is still on one knee. ELM shakes off his recent impact with the floor and heads over to Thugg, grabbing him by the right arm as he approaches. Magnifico slowly walks around the corner post behind Thugg, pulling his arm against it. Suddenly, ELM rears HVT’s arm back, before throwing it forward, slamming Thugg’s arm directly into the steel post! The fans seem to wince in unison as Thugg withdraws his arm, cradling it in pain as the ref reaches five in his count. Magnifico crawls up onto the apron and rolls into the ring, slowly standing up as the ref reaches six. Sensing that Thugg might be counting out, the crowd begins to rally behind HVT, chanting his name and cheering wildly as he struggles to his feet. Finally, at the count of eight, Thugg gets on his feet and immediately climbs onto the apron, much to the delight of the audience. When Magnifico sees HVT climb onto the apron, however, he suddenly charges towards him, determined to knock Thugg off! However, as he approaches, Thugg reaches out with his left hand and grabs the luchadore by the hair, before thrusting his head forward, slamming it into Magnifico’s skull with a Headbutt! ELM is knocked backwards and to the mat, giving Thugg an opportunity to climb into the ring while Magnifico pops back to his feet! ELM charges at HVT once again and throws a punch in his direction, only to have Thugg block it and pull the luchadore into a Front Waistlock! Wasting no time, Thugg immediately uses his grip to lift ELM into the air, before turning around and slamming him back-first into the canvas with a Belly-to-Belly Suplex! The fans both cheer and boo, mostly cheer as Thugg remains on Magnifico for the cover, 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.

(Riley) - Hah, he got it that time! Magnifico’s futile attempts to attack Thugg end in him being squashed with a Belly-to-Belly Suplex!

(Stevens) - I wouldn’t say they were futile, Riley. I mean, look at HVT’s right arm! It’s gotta be hurting at this point, and I’ll be surprised if Thugg doesn’t have trouble lifting ELM with it.

(Riley) - Bah, I don’t need you and your “logic”! I’m right and you know it, biznatch!

(Stevens) - Biz what?

Thugg rolls off of ELM, looking a bit annoyed at Magnifico’s persistence at not losing. Before standing back up, HVT grabs Magnifico by the hair, pulling the luchadore to his feet with him as he stands. Thugg holds ELM in front of him for a few seconds, looking down at the luchadore with a mixture of pity and anger...before grabbing Magnifico by the waist and lifting him into the air, parallel to the mat! HVT holds ELM in this position for but a second before driving the luchadore downwards while sticking out his knee, slamming his back into it with a Back Breaker! The luchadore cries out in pain as he rolls off of Thugg’s knee, falling to the mat and arching his back as he does so. HVT once again kneels down and covers the luchadore to another mixed reaction from the crowd as the ref slides into position...

ONE...

TWO...No! Magnifico gets a shoulder up at two and a half, further frustrating Thugg, who grabs ELM by the hair and stands up, jerking the luchadore to his feet as he does so.

(Stevens) - Thugg is simply punishing Magnifico at this point. If ELM doesn’t do something quick, his World Title will once again be in Thugg’s hands.

HVT then quickly heads over to the nearby corner, pulling Magnifico behind him, before driving ELM’s head forward, slamming it directly into the top turnbuckle! The dazed luchadore turns around and collapses against the corner after the blow, barely able to keep himself on his feet! Thugg quickly makes it much harder for the him, as he begins throwing his knee into Magnifico’s gut, repeatedly pounding away at it and causing the luchadore to double over in pain! After throwing about five knees and probably internally injuring Magnifico, Thugg grabs the luchadore around the waist and slowly lifts him into the air, his right arm shaking in pain but holding out beneath the weight. HVT sits the dazed luchadore on the top turnbuckle, before climbing up himself, bending the ring ropes beneath his massive weight. Finally, HVT reaches the top turnbuckle, and delivering a few quick punches to Magnifico’s face as he does so for good measure. Thugg then pulls ELM into a Suplex position, careful to keep his balance as he does so. The crowd, not really cheering or booing, grows louder and louder the longer Thugg holds this position, anxious to see HVT nail Magnifico with a Superplex! After what seems like forever, HVT suddenly begins to lift the luchadore...only to have Magnifico wrap his foot around Thugg’s ankle, blocking the lifting process! HVT tries again, but is blocked once more! Magnifico seems to suddenly snap to attention, as he pulls his head out from under Thugg’s arm and begins bashing away at HVT’s face, doing everything he can to stun the big man!

(Stevens) - No! Magnifico blocks the Superplex, and is fighting Thugg on the top rope!

(Riley) - More like mugging! HVT can’t even defend himself, the poor guy!

After Magnifico lands about ten punches, Thugg seems to be completely out of it, as he stands dazed on the top rope, barely managing to keep himself from falling off. Unfortunately for him, Magnifico places his hands on Thugg’s chest and shoves him forward, causing HVT to fall off of the top rope, drawing a surprised cheer from the crowd! Thugg lands flat on his back on the mat, shaking the entire ring violently as he does so! As the ring slowly stops shaking, Magnifico carefully stands up straight on the top rope, breathing deeply as he looks down on the motionless Thugg. Suddenly, Magnifico turns to his Mexican flag and salutes it proudly, immediately drawing an anticipatory wave of noise from the crowd!

(Stevens) - He’s calling for it! Magnifico is about to take off with a Mexican Pride Press, and this match could be over if he hits it!

Magnifico turns back towards Thugg, and takes one more long, deep breath...before leaping off of the top turnbuckle, flipping backwards and crashing towards Thugg with the Mexican Pride Press! Thousands of flashbulbs go off, forever capturing the image of Thugg lifting his knees, causing Magnifico to fall directly onto them, gut-first! Every fan in the arena seems to wince simultaneously as ELM slowly rolls off of Thugg’s knees and falls to the mat, doubled over in pain and a shocked look painted on his face.

(Riley) - Aww, isn’t that a shame? Just before Magnifico could hit his Magical Prissy Press or whatever, Thugg put up his knees in self-defense. Golly gee willikers...

After laying motionless next to Magnifico for a few moments, Thugg begins rolling towards the luchadore, before draping himself onto his body for the cover! The reaction is resounding but indecisive as the ref slides into position, beginning the count as Thugg hooks Magnifico’s leg...

ONE...

TWO...

THR-Nooo! Magnifico gets a shoulder up just before the three count, drawing a relieved cheer from the action-hungry crowd! Thugg slowly pushes himself off of the luchadore and glares at the referee, who timidly defends his two count to the displeasure of HVT.

(Stevens) - No! No! Magnifico kicks out right before three, and Thugg does not look pleased!

(Riley) - Well, why would he?? He’s gotta work with this piece of luggage luchadore for at least another minute!

Thugg stares daggers into the ref for another second before turning his attention back to Magnifico, who lays motionless on the mat in front of him. After a second or two, HVT grabs ELM by the arm and slowly stands up, pulling Magnifico up to his feet with him. Once both men are standing, Thugg uses his grip to whip the dazed luchadore across the ring, towards the far ropes. Magnifico bounces off of the ropes and rushes back towards Thugg, and as he approaches, HVT suddenly thrusts his right hand forward, wrapping it around ELM’s throat! The fans immediately respond, some booing and some cheering, as Thugg stands in the middle of the ring with his hand around Magnifico’s throat, ready to finish the luchadore off with the Untamed!

(Stevens) - Oh my God! It looks like HVT has had enough of Magnifico, and wants to put him away right here and now with the Untamed!

(Riley) - Yes! Yes! Third Three-Time Champion, here we come! The Title is as good as Thugg’s!

HVT stares directly into Magnifico’s soul, his eyes burning with hate and triumph...before lifting the luchadore into the air, ready to finish him once and for all with the Untamed! But as he lifts, HVT’s damaged right arm gives way, forcing Thugg to let go of the luchadore! The fans, feeling gypped, begin to boo as Magnifico hits the mat, falling onto one knee as HVT grabs his shoulder in pain.

(Stevens) - And now we see Magnifico’s arm work paying off! Thugg couldn’t keep Magnifico in the air with his one hurt arm, and had to let ELM go!

Magnifico, who is just now realizing what’s happening, slowly pushes himself back to his feet, standing directly in front of Thugg. Unfortunately, that’s about the time HVT figures out he can just use his left arm, as he shoots his hand out and wraps it around Magnifico’s throat! Wasting no time, HVT immediately lifts Magnifico into the air, much to the delight and chagrin of the crowd! ELM flails around in mid-air for a few moments, before taking his foot and driving it forward, slamming the tip of it directly into Thugg’s crotch! HVT immediately releases Magnifico, allowing him to fall to the mat as Thugg doubles over, grabbing his mid-section in pain as the fans laugh, cheer, and boo simultaneously.

(Riley) - Booo! That is a CLEAR violation of Queensberry rules!

(Stevens) - It may not be the most legal maneuver, but Magnifico needed to escape from the Untamed, and did so in fine fashion!

With Thugg doubled over, ELM is able to take a second and shake off the cobwebs, getting his bearings straight before doing anything further. Once he’s done with that, Magnifico walks up to Thugg and locks him into a Front Headlock while using his free arm to grab Thugg’s right arm. ELM then falls backwards, dragging his opponent down with him and driving HVT’s head into the canvas while slamming Thugg’s arm across his body with an Armbreaker DDT! The fans erupt into noise, mostly cheering, as HVT rolls onto his back after the DDT, clutching his shoulder in pain. Magnifico immediately scampers onto Thugg, using both arms to hook HVT’s leg while the ref slides into position and begins counting...

ONE...

TWO...No! Thugg gets a shoulder up at two and a half, drawing a cheer from the yet-unsatisfied crowd.

(Stevens) - Great move from Magnifico, as he both stuns HVT and further injures his arm with an Armbreaker DDT!

ELM slowly rolls off of Thugg and pushes himself back to his feet while HVT lays motionless on the mat, still clutching his shoulder. Magnifico delivers a few stomps to Thugg’s injured shoulder, before turning around and making a break for the ropes behind him. ELM bounces off of said ropes and rushes back towards Thugg, and as he approaches, Magnifico leaps into the air, sticking out his knee as he does so! As ELM falls, he drives his knee directly into HVT’s shoulder, drawing a cry of pain out of Thugg with a Running Knee Drop! Magnifico rolls back to his feet off of the knee drop, standing as Thugg begins struggling to his feet. Magnifico looks on as HVT slowly pushes himself to his hands and knees, his right arm nearly collapsing beneath the weight. Suddenly, ELM approaches Thugg and gives him a swift kick to the chin, snapping HVT’s head backwards and nearly causing him to fall back to the mat! The fans boo the cheap shot as Magnifico steps over HVT’s right arm, uncontested by the dazed Thugg. Magnifico grabs Thugg’s right arm, which his between his legs, and begins pulling back on it, locking in a Standing Armbar on HVT! Thugg’s face is twisted into a mask of pain and rage as ELM painfully wrenches on HVT’s arm, further damaging the already-injured appendage. But as Magnifico works the arm, Thugg creeps his left arm around his back and grabs ELM by the neck! Thugg then breaks his right arm free of the hold and grabs Magnifico by the leg, before slowly standing up with ELM stranded on his back! The fans cheer the unexpected reversal as Magnifico, facing away from Thugg and perpendicular to his body, is held helpless in mid-air! Thugg slowly spins around, showcasing Magnifico’s predicament for all to see...before jumping up and falling onto his back, crushing ELM beneath his weight as he’s slammed into the mat! The fans release a sympathetic OHHHH! as Thugg rolls off of Magnifico, leaving the squashed luchadore motionless on the mat. HVT sits up for a minute, a grin on his face, before leaning back and lying on Magnifico to make the cover. The response from the crowd is mostly cheers as the ref slides into position and begins counting...

ONE...

TWO...No! Magnifico gets a shoulder up at two and a half, increasing the cheers from the excited crowd.

(Stevens) - Damn! ELM ‘s Armbar backfired on him in a serious way, as Thugg counters out of it into some weird Back Slam Squishing thing!

(Riley) - And you say that I suck on the mike.

(Stevens) - Screw you, fruitcake.

(Riley) - Talentless hack!

Thugg slowly pushes himself off of Magnifico, looking both surprised and frustrated that his massive crushing girth wasn’t enough to keep ELM down. He grabs the luchadore by the arm before slowly standing up, pulling Magnifico to his feet with him. Thugg then uses his grip to whip ELM across the ring, sending him rushing towards the far ropes. Magnifico bounces off of the ropes and rushes back towards Thugg, and as he approaches, HVT reaches out towards the luchadore, trying to grab him! However, ELM suddenly leaps into the air, through Thugg’s outstretched arms, and claps his hands together! At least he would have, if HVT’s head had not been in the way. As it is, Magnifico stuns Thugg by smacking both sides of his head with a Bell Clap! HVT stumbles backwards, his hands on his head as the fans cheer for the unconventional move. Magnifico takes a few steps backwards from Thugg, putting some space between him and his opponent. He then sidesteps towards HVT, throwing his foot into the air for a Superkick! Magnifico’s drives his foot directly into Thugg’s chest, knocking the big man backwards into the ropes! HVT bounces off of the ropes and unwittingly stumbles back towards the luchadore, and Magnifico responds by sidestepping toward him once again and landing another Superkick to Thugg’s chest! The fans respond in kind, cheering excitedly as HVT is knocked backwards once more, this time nearly falling over the ropes!

(Stevens) - Two Superkicks in a row! After nailing Thugg with a Bell Clap and two Superkicks, Magnifico has Thugg on the ropes...literally!

(Riley) - Way to go, oh master of the clever play on words.

Thugg leans heaily against the ropes, seemingly out of it as Magnifico stands in front of him, grinning. Suddenly, the luchadore sidesteps towards HVT once again, throwing another Superkick which will surely knock Thugg out of the ring! Unfortunately for Magnifico, HVT snaps to attention and catches ELM’s foot just before he can make impact! The fans OHHH! in surprise and anticipation as Thugg pushes himself off of the ropes and walks towards the center of the ring, forcing Magnifico to hop backwards on one foot to keep from falling down. As HVT walks, a sadistic grin slowly creeps over his face...before he jerks Magnifico towards him, pulling the luchadore into a Front Waistlock! As soon as he has ELM trapped, Thugg lifts the luchadore into the air, before falling forward, slamming Magnifico to the mat with a Front Bearhug Slam! The fans OHHH! in surprise and concern as Magnifico lays motionless on the mat, his body broken, while Thugg quickly stands back up.

(Riley) - That’s what Magnifico gets for being so uncreative! I mean, three Superkicks in a row?? Try a Front Leg Back Kick or something, jeez!

HVT looks down on Magnifico for a second, a blank expression on his face as his chest heaves up and down. Slowly, Thugg tilts his head upwards, looking out over the crowd, who watch HVT expectantly to see what he’ll do next. Their curiosity is satisfied when Thugg lifts his hand and slowly draws it across his throat, making the universal “cutthroat” gesture for all to see! The fans immediately respond, some cheering and some booing in anticipation as Thugg reaches down and grabs Magnifico by the arm.

(Stevens) - Uh oh, what does Thugg have planned here? That’s usually not a pleasant gesture, and Magnifico doesn’t seem able to defend himself should HVT try anything.

HVT slowly drags the limp luchadore to his feet, receiving no resistance from Magnifico. Once ELM is standing, Thugg grabs him by the leg and arm and slowly hoists the luchadore into the air with a Military Press! Thugg’s right arm nearly buckles beneath Magnifico’s weight, but somehow stays steady as HVT holds the luchadore high above his head! Thugg then spins Magnifico’s body so that he’s facing the same direction as HVT, putting the luchadore in a precocious position! Suddenly, Thugg shouts out “This is The Last Stand, baby!”, loud enough for nearly everyone in the arena to hear and the cameras to clearly pick up. However, while Thugg is yelling, Magnifico suddenly snaps to attention and sees the predicament he’s in! Not wasting a second, ELM reaches down and grabs Thugg’s right arm, before sliding out of HVT’s grip and landing on his feet behind the giant! As Magnifico falls, he wraps Thugg’s right arm around his own neck, and as ELM lands, he turns away from Thugg, holding HVT’s massive arm over his shoulder! Magnifico then quickly falls onto his back, jerking Thugg’s arm downwards and his entire body with it! The surprised fans cheer as ELM slams the back of Thugg’s head directly into the mat with a Knifey Spooney!

(Stevens) - Whoa, where the hell did that come from?! Magnifico slips out of Thugg’s grasp and hits Sacred’s signature Knifey Spooney Neckbreaker out of nowhere!

(Riley) - As much as I hate the dirty Mexican, it warms my heart to see him taking after Sacred and using his fine moves! At least he got SOMETHING out of their matches.

(Stevens) - Besides the World Title, you mean?

(Riley) - ...shut up!

ELM and Thugg lay side-by-side for several seconds, neither man moving as the fans begin cheering for both competitors. Their cheering is soon coupled with clapping in unison, which grows louder and louder as time goes on. Suddenly, the noise comes to a head, as Magnifico slowly rolls towards Thugg, limply throwing his arm onto HVT’s chest for the cover! The ref slides into position and begins counting while the fans continue to cheer...

ONE...

TWO...

THR-Noo! Thugg gets a shoulder up right before three, drawing a prolonged OHHHH!! from the capacity crowd! ELM rolls off of Thugg, a look of despair on his face as he slowly begins pushing himself to his feet.

(Stevens) - No! Magnifico completely surprised Thugg with the Knifey Spooney, but it wasn’t enough to keep the big man down!

(Riley) - Oh, and should it of? That’s arguably the only strong move Magnifico’s hit the entire match! I’m surprised Thugg even stayed down for two!

Magnifico starts climbing to his feet, with Thugg following suit a few seconds later. After a bit of struggling, ELM finally stands, doing so as HVT reaches one knee. Magnifico begins delivering tired kicks to Thugg’s arm, doing all he can to keep HVT from reaching his feet. Unfortunately, it doesn’t work, as Thugg slowly stands up, towering over Magnifico as he does so. ELM delivers several kicks to HVT’s gut, stunning the big man somewhat, before turning around and making a break for the ropes behind him! Magnifico bounces off of the ropes and rushes back towards Thugg, but as he approaches, HVT suddenly bends over, as if for a Back Body Drop! Thugg grabs Magnifico’s legs and quickly stands up, hurling the luchadore over his head as he does so with the Back Drop! However, ELM manages to flip forward in mid-air, landing on his feet behind Thugg! The second Magnifico lands, he rushes towards the ropes in front of him, bouncing off of them just as HVT spins around to face the luchadore! As ELM approaches Thugg, he leaps into the air, extending his legs as he does so and wrapping them around HVT’s head as if for a Hurricanrana! Unfortunately, this proves to be a fatal mistake, as Thugg grabs Magnifico around the waist, leaving the luchadore stranded on HVT’s shoulders as if for a Powerbomb! Before you can say “spinal injury”, Thugg suddenly sits down, driving ELM downwards as he does so and slamming his back into the mat with a Sit-Down Powerbomb! A loud OHHH! rises from the fans as the ref slides into position, beginning the count as Thugg holds Magnifico down for the pin...

ONE...

TWO...

THR-Nooo!! Magnifico barely gets his shoulder up before the three count, drawing a rousing cheer from the overexcited crowd!

(Stevens) Oh my God! Magnifico’s Hurricanrana was effortlessly reversed into a massive sit-down Powerbomb by Thugg, which ELM barely managed to kick out of!

(Riley) - See, THAT’S when you should be questioning why someone didn’t stay down! I could here Magnifico’s spinal cord compressing from here!

Thugg throws Magnifico’s legs to the side and slowly stands up, shouting at the referee incoherently as he does so. The ref timidly defends his stance, as Thugg draws his hand back, eloquently threatening to “bitch-slap” the ref. The poor guy falls to the mat, throwing his hands up in defense as HVT turns back to Magnifico, grinning to himself. Thugg reaches down and grabs the luchadore by the hair, using his grip to painfully pull Magnifico to his feet. Once ELM is standing in front of Thugg, facing away from him, HVT suddenly lifts his arms into Magnifico’s armpits, locking him into a Full Nelson! Reveling in the moment, Thugg looks down on the luchadore, a grin creeping across his face...as he lifts the luchadore high into the air, as if for a Dragon Suplex! However, Thugg suddenly sits down while driving Magnifico downwards, driving ELM ass-first into the canvas with a Full Nelson Drop! The impressed fans OOOOH! in unison, but Thugg isn’t quite done yet! With Magnifico still in the Full Nelson, Thugg begins climbing back to his feet! HVT slowly stands up, pulling Magnifico to his feet with him...and then lifts the luchadore up again, before sitting and driving him into the canvas once more with a Full Nelson Drop! Thugg pauses for a second before beginning the long climb to his feet again, his body tired and his right arm about ready to give out.

(Stevens) - Two Full Nelson Drops in a row! And Thugg still has the Full Nelson locked in! What could he possibly do next?

After much struggling, Thugg finally reaches his feet, Magnifico still trapped beneath his grasp. HVT pauses for a second, gathering the strength for one more move...and then lifts ELM up into the air, as if for a Full Nelson Slam! Unfortunately, Thugg’s right arm finally gives out, as the strain of repeatedly lifting Magnifico has gotten too much for him! HVT is forced to release ELM, who falls to the canvas, landing on one knee while Thugg clutches his shoulder!

(Stevens) - No! It looked like Thugg was going to finish off the combo with a Full Nelson Slam, but his arm just couldn’t take it!

(Riley) - Damn cheating luchadore! Isn’t attacking the arm like a blithering idiot against the rules?

(Stevens) - No, but commentating like one is.

(Riley) - Clever. See if I invite you to my Christmas party, asshole.

Magnifico slowly rises to his feet and turns around to see Thugg clutching his arm, paralyzed by pain. Suddenly, the luchadore leaps into the air and kicks out his feet, driving them into HVT’s right arm with a Flipping Dropkick! Thugg cries out and falls to one knee as Magnifico pops back to his feet, a determined look on his face. With HVT on one knee, ELM turns around and makes a break for the ropes behind him! Magnifico bounces off of the ropes and rushes back towards Thugg, and as he approaches, the luchadore leaps into the air, his arm extended for a Flying Clothesline! Magnifico makes perfect contact with the Clothesline, as he slams his arm into Thugg’s neck, knocking the big man to the ground! The fans mostly cheer this feat as Magnifico rolls back to his feet, running on adrenaline at this point. Magnifico looks down at Thugg, who is writhing in pain, before turning to the nearby corner and heading towards it! An anticipatory wave of noise rises from the crowd as ELM begins climbing the turnbuckles, the injuries he sustained in the match finally catching up with him.

(Stevens) - Here we go! Magnifico has Thugg down on the mat, and may be able to finish him with one well-placed aerial move!

(Riley) - Or not! Thugg has begun climbing back to his feet, like the invincible giant that he is!

True to Riley’s word, HVT has begun struggling to his feet about the same time that Magnifico reaches the top rope. ELM turns around on the top turnbuckle to face Thugg, and is surprised to HVT on one knee, about to push himself to his feet. Magnifico remains perched on the top rope, eyeing Thugg carefully as HVT slowly stands up, facing away from the luchadore. Finally, Thugg unwittingly turns towards Magnifico, who takes that as his cue to leap off of the top turnbuckle, extending his arms and legs as he does so for a Flying Cross-Body! Thousands of flashbulbs go off, lighting up the inside of the arena as Magnifico crashes directly into Thugg’s chest! Unfortunately for Magnifico, the second he crashes into Thugg, HVT wraps his arms around the luchadore’s body, leaving him stranded in mid-air! The fans OHHH! in surprise and anticipation as Thugg hold Magnifico, who is wildly struggling to escape. Suddenly, Thugg flips Magnifico upwards, turning his grip into a Military Press-style hold! Thugg’s right arm shakes violently and nearly buckles, but HVT’s determination is enough to keep his arm up for a bit longer! ELM, panicked at this point, is doing everything in his power to escape, but Thugg refuses to release him! Slowly, HVT turns Magnifico’s body so that he’s facing the same way as Thugg, much like the last time ELM was in this position!

(Stevens) - Look out! Thugg has Magnifico in that position again, and this time looks completely determined to hit whatever move he couldn’t accomplish before!

Thugg looks up at Magnifico, allowing the luchadore to see the sadistic grin across HVT’s face...right before Thugg sits down, driving Magnifico downwards as he does so and slamming his head directly into the mat like a Michinoku Driver! The fans immediately release a long OHHH!, shocked at how devastating Thugg’s maneuver looked! After the maneuver, ELM flops onto the mat, completely motionless save for an occasional spasmic jerk!

(Stevens) - Dear God, what on Earth was THAT?!

(Riley) - Who gives a damn?! All I know is that Magnifico’s brains are scrambled, and that Thugg is three seconds away from winning the World Title!

Thugg, who is still in the sitting position, slowly begins to work his way to his feet, clutching his right arm in pain. After a good pit of struggling, HVT finally stands, looking completely dazed as he does so. Thugg takes one step towards Magnifico...before falling limply backwards, crashing to the mat with incredible force! HVT and ELM lie next to each other, both men motionless, as the fans begin shouting and chanting for them to get up.

(Riley) - What in the hell was that?!

(Stevens) - It’s the fatigue, Riley! Thugg used last bit of strength to land his move on Magnifico, and simply couldn’t go on!

Neither man moves for several seconds, until Thugg slowly begins to stir, turning onto his stomach to the great delight of the crowd. The cheers grow louder and louder, until they’re suddenly interrupted by a booming voice from the back!

(Voice) - Whoa whoa whoa!! What the hell is this?!

Every fan in the arena turns towards the entrance ramp just in time to see Stubby P. McWeed burst out from behind the curtain, looking pissed off and carrying a microphone in his right hand! The fans immediately begin booing as they catch sight of commissioner, causing McWeed to pause for a second before continuing.

(Stubby) - I turn my head for one fucking second, and what do I see? The god damn Hville Thugg, back in MY ring.

Stubby begins to saunter down the ramp, ignoring the fans as he does so. Meanwhile, in the ring, Thugg has pushed himself up to one knee, and has caught his first glance of the commissioner.

(Stubby) - Do I even have to TELL you how wrong this is? First off, it was me who was responsible for your retiring! Why the hell do you think I would want you back in here? Second, it is COMPLETELY your fault that this match is even taking place! If it wasn’t for your damn fancy returning productions, Magnifico would have never wanted to face your ass! Third, you don’t have a contract here, fat-ass! Legally, you shouldn’t even be in this building!

By this time, Stubby has reached the ring, and the crowd’s booing is at its max. McWeed comfortably climbs up onto the apron as Thugg stumbles to his feet in the middle of the ring, his eyes focused on Stubby.

(Stubby) - So, what I’m gonna do is give you the count of three to get your bloated, liquor-swilling, contract-breaking ass out of here, before I do it for you! One...

Thugg stands up straight, and stares daggers into Stubby.

(Stubby) - Two...

HVT slowly approaches the commissioner, as the fans slowly begin to cheer the big man.

(Stubby) - Thr-

Stubby is suddenly cut off when Thugg lashes out with his right hand, bashing McWeed in the face! Stubby falls off of the apron and crashes to the ground, much to the delight of the capacity crowd!

(Riley) - That heartless bastard! I can’t believe Thugg would strike his own commissioner!

(Stevens) - Well, technically, HVT has no commissioner! Didn’t you hear Stubby? Thugg isn’t even under contract!

(Riley) - Dammit!

Thugg leans over the top rope, shouting at Stubby and gesturing wildly in his direction. After a good ten seconds of verbal abuse, HVT turns around...to come face to face with Magnifico, who got back to his feet during Thugg’s attack on Stubby, appears to be completely out dazed and confused after a move that seemed like Thugg’s new finisher.

(Stevens) – Magnifico is up…but did he see what happened?

(Riley) – It doesn’t look like he did, honestly…he just seems to be dazed and just kind of standing there on sheer instinct and adrenalin.

As soon as their eyes meet, ELM drives his knee forward, slamming it directly into HVT’s gut! The big man doubles over slightly, stunned by the blow as the fans OOOOH! in surprise. ELM then grabs Thugg by the arm and slowly twists it around, maneuvering it into a Chicken Wing! Magnifico then reaches up and grabs HVT around the head, completing the set-up for Montezuma’s Revenge to a resounding mixed reaction from the crowd! Wasting no time, ELM immediately falls onto his knees, dragging Thugg down with him and slamming his chin into the luchadore’s shoulder with the Chicken Wing Jaw Breaker! HVT practically springs backwards off of Magnifico’s shoulder, falling flat on his back as the fans grow ever louder!

(Stevens) - Montezuma’s Revenge! Montezuma’s Revenge! ELM took advantage of Thugg’s distraction and nailed him with his signature Jawbreaker!

(Riley) – How could he!?! What kind of man is Magnifico??

(Stevens) – I don’t think he knew Bobby…at least, it didn’t look like he knew.

Magnifico remains on his knees for a few moments, looking completely dazed and exhausted. Slowly, ELM begins pushing himself back up to his feet, nearly collapsing to the ground again as he stands. Magnifico looks down on Thugg for a second, his chest heaving up and down...and then turns towards the nearby corner, slowly making his way towards it! Upon reaching the corner, Magnifico begins to pull himself up the turnbuckles, climbing higher and higher as Thugg lays motionless on the mat.

(Stevens) – Oh god! Magnifico’s gonna fly!! He’s gonna fly…this could be it right here!

(Riley) – Yeah, well…the whole thing is tainted if you ask me…taking advantage of a distracted Thugg….hmph.

Finally, ELM reaches the top rope and carefully stands up on it, facing away from the crowd as he does so. Magnifico stare down on Thugg one more time...before turning towards his Mexican Flag and saluting it proudly! The reaction is almost all cheers as Magnifico turns back towards Thugg, his eyes burning with determination!

(Stevens) - This is it! ELM’s Mexican Pride Press was countered the first time, but now, he has another chance to win this match and defend his title!

Suddenly, ELM leaps off of the top rope, flipping backwards as he does so and crashing towards Thugg with a Mexican Pride Press! Thousands of cameras forever capture the scene of Magnifico landing on HVT’s gut, making perfect contact with the Press and drawing an excited pop from the crowd! Magnifico literally bounces off of Thugg, landing on the canvas next to him!

(Riley) - Shit! Why do you mock me so, God?

(Stevens) - He hit it! Magnifico hit the Mexican Pride Press, and this match could be over!

After a few moments of motionlessness, Magnifico rolls towards Thugg and drapes his arm over the giant’s body, limply making the cover and making the crowd even louder in the process! The ref quickly slides into position, beginning the count as Magnifico lays motionless on HVT and the fans give a rather mixed reaction due to the way Magnifico became to get his pinfall...

ONE...

TWO...

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

DING DING DING

(Funyon) - Your winner, AND STILL, the SWF World Heavyweight Champion...El Luchadooooooorre Magnificooooooooo!!

(Stevens) - He did it! He did it! Magnifico has defeated Thugg for the first time ever, and is still the SWF World Champion!

(Riley) - Oh, yell about it some more, why don’t ya...

(Stevens) – It’s a huge night for the champion…but what of Stubby…what of Thugg? Did Magnifico even see that Thugg was distracted by Stubby? Does he even care?

Magnifico slowly rolls off of Thugg and begins pushing himself to his feet, a tired but ecstatic smile painted on his face as “Mission Trip to Mexico” hits the speakers. However, that smile quickly disappears when he sees Stubby P. McWeed rising to his feet, a triumphant grin crossing his face as he sees HVT lying motionless on the mat.

(Riley) – Oh no.

(Stevens) – Magnifico sees Stubby for the first time…I think he’s putting 2 and 2 together, and the champion doesn’t look happy about it…and neither are the fans.

Magnifico slowly stands as the cogs turn in his mind, trying to figure out what Stubby was doing out there. Suddenly, ELM pieces it all together, realizing that Thugg was distracted by McWeed’s presence! Magnifico, suddenly pissed off that he won thanks to Stubby, leans over the ropes and incoherently curses at McWeed, who is backing up the ramp, looking pleased with himself.

(Stevens) – That son of a bitch McWeed!! What a cowardly, vindictive, sorry excuse for a human being! I can’t believe he has screwed Thugg out of yet, another victory!

(Riley) – Hey now…I’m not that pleased with the outcome either, but Thugg has violated many rules and laws here. He’s not under contract…he’s trespassing…he shouldn’t be here.

ELM turns his attention away from Stubby for a second, as he kneels down and checks on Thugg’s condition. Magnifico grabs Thugg by the arm and desperately tries to get the big man to his feet, but it’s no use for now.

(Stevens) - Magnifico looks completely enraged, and I can’t blame him! Stubby had NO reason to be down there, and cost Thugg the match!

(Riley) - Ah, ELM’s just a whiner. He should be freaking ecstatic he finally managed to beat Thugg.

(Stevens) - Well, anyway, that’s about all the time we have tonight, so good night, folks! Thanks for watching Ashes to Ashes! Tune into Storm!

The final image of the night is El Luchadore Magnifico, glaring at Stubby P. McWeed with an unspeakable hate in his eyes...

December 2, 2002

SINGLES MATCH

Ced Ordonez vs. Mak Francis

- Ced wins this one...fo shizzle.

NO-DQ MATCH FOR THE HARDCORE TITLE #1 CONTENDERSHIP

Ash Ketchum vs. Sigil

- You can't keep a good Pokemon impresonating wrestler down!

STRAIGHTJACKET MATCH

CIA vs. Frost

- Just like the Canadian army, CIA is mighty and unstopable...

3-WAY ELIMINATION MATCH FOR THE ICTV #1 CONTDERSHIP

Alex Zenon vs. Tod deKindes vs.

- The man formerly known as Z gets the win over Tod, and Silent...er, I mean Nathan Kimsomething.

US TITLE MATCH

- GURLS SUX! Willy wins.

ICTV TITLE MATCH

- The new, improved, eviler Thoth wins.

SWF HEAVYWEIGHT TITLE MATCH

- Who did Maginifico face...who won...read the match!

SWF Ashes to Ashes 2002!

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