SWF Smarkdown (Dec. 10/2002)

December 11, 2002

“Earlier Today”

The sounds of a busy afternoon at the Tuscon Convention Center fill the air in Arizona, as the SWF crew gets ready for a huge night of SWF Smarkdown action. Outside, there is a crowd of fans surrounding what appears to be the staff entrance behind the arena. From the distance walks a man, huge in stature, towards the entrance, a duffel bag over his left shoulder. The group of hardcore fans standing at the entrance begins to cheer as the Hville Thugg walks up towards the entrance, and when the fans part the sea, another man holding a clipboard is standing at the door.

(HVT) – Yo cuz…what up?

…says Thugg as he goes to pull the door open and enter the arena. However, to his surprise, the door is ripped from his grasp and slammed shut.

(Doorman) – Sorry Thugg, I can’t let you in.

Thugg stares down at the white man’s thick 200+ pound frame, with a look of confusion…

(HVT) – What?

(Doorman) – I said I can’t let you in. I’m sorry…Stubby’s orders.

HVT grabs the doorman by the collar and wrenches him up off his feet, forcing the doorman to drop his clipboard.

(HVT) – And how exactly do you intend to stop me cuz?

The doorman, fear-stricken, points shakily at the door, which has a thin window on its upper half. Thugg, still holding the doorman, looks hard inside the window and sees a mob of police officers standing around talking inside.

(Doorman) – S…S…Stubby didn’t want to create a scene out here, s…s…so, h…h…told m…m…e not to let you in. A…a…and he said th…th…at if you did get in, the p…p…police would arrest you.

The doorman cringes in anticipation of the blow he’s sure will come, but when he opens his eyes, he sees Thugg smiling? Thugg puts the doorman down, and pats him on the head…

(HVT) – HAHAHA…you’re doing a bang up job.

…and Thugg turns to leave. The doorman is left confused and bewildered, but not for long because…

BOOM!

A huge pyro display kicks off SWF Smarkdown, as the camera swirls around the arena showing the amazing SWF fans and their crazy signs.

(Stevens) – Welcome to SWF Smarkdown!! We’re live here in Tucson, Arizona…and what a night we have lined up! But what you just saw was from earlier today when the Hville Thugg was attempting to enter the arena. It seems as though Stubby has set up some kind of blockade to make certain Thugg does not get in the arena tonight.

(Riley) – And I’m glad he did. Thugg has no business here, except to cause trouble. It’s in the best interest of the safety of the federation that Stubby do whatever to takes to keep Thugg from getting in here.

(Stevens) – Well that remains to be seen…Wait a second! We’re getting a live feed…

The Smarktron, and televisions worldwide, fire up, showing what seems to be the arena loading dock. An SWF semi pulls up to the gate to enter the loading dock, where the truck is approached by the guard on duty. The camera pans around the truck, showing the guard talking with the truck driver, and you can slightly pick up their conversation…

(Guard) – Yeah…just pull it right over there.

(Driver) – You got it…

(Riley) – Wait a damn second…I know that voice!

As the driver of the truck goes to put it in gear, the camera zooms in on his face. The man takes one last turn out the window, coincidently, at the camera, and winks, causing the entire arena to erupt into cheers!!

(Stevens) – IT’S THUGG!! IT’S THUGG!! HE’S HERE! MY GOODNESS, THUGG IS HERE!!

(Riley) – Oh come on…how are you suppose to find good help these days?? You let him in you dolt…now we’re all doomed!

(Stevens) – This night just got more interesting!! Thugg…posing as a truck driver has now entered the facility!! What a night this will be…let’s look at the card!!

(Riley) – Someone call Stubby!! Thugg’s here!

December 11, 2002

US TITLE TRIPLE THREAT #1 CONTENDER’S MATCH

Ced Ordonez vs. CIA vs. Frost

- CIA and Frost have been at war for a while now, and this Monday they’ll face off for a shot at the US title. Ced Ordonez, who scored a big win at the most recent Pay per view will be along for the ride as well, so this should be good.

Match Description – DQ and count-out rules are in effect. The first man to score a pinfall, submission or knockout within the ring is the winner.

SINGLES MATCH

Sigil vs. Judge Mental

- At Ashes to Ashes, Sigil attacked Magnificent 7 member Mercury and tore his ear off. On Storm the newest M7 member, Judge Mental, extracted some revenge by attacking Sigil twice. Who will be the victor when they face each other in an actual match?

NON-TITLE SINGLES MATCH

Danny Williams vs. Mak Francis

- Former Magnificent 7 member and pupil of Tom Flesher, Mak Francis, will take on current M7 member Danny Williams. It’s gonna’ be physically intense and then some!

HARDCORE TITLE MATCH

Annie Eclectic © vs. Michael Craven

- Ash Ketchum won the hardcore #1 contendership at Ashes to Ashes, but since then he decided to finally change that dumb name of his. Regardless, he still gets his shot and he and Annie will fight this Monday.

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

NON-TITLE 3-WAY ELIMINATION MATCH

Orochi vs. Tom Flesher vs. Nathaniel Kibagami

- 3 of the top performers in the SWF today will battle each other on Smarkdown. There’s nothing on the line here except pride, but all these men have a lot of that, so this match should be hard fought.

Match Description – DQ and count-out rules are in effect. When someone is eliminated via pinfall, submission or knockout he must leave ringside while the remaining two fight to decide the winner.

December 11, 2002

The picture fades in on the commentator’s table to find Mark Stevens and Bobby Riley set and ready to go.

“We’ve had the opening festivities and now it’s time to get ready for another exciting Smarkdown live from the Tucson Convention Center in Tucson, Arizona.” Stevens hypes with oozing charisma.

“This city has the weirdest stench, it’s like cat food and cum.” Riley twists his face disgustingly from the odor.

“I really don’t want to know how you’re aware of what those two smell like together.” Marks shudders in trying to keep a very strange image out of his mind. “On a more pleasant note, our first contest this evening promises to be a dandy with the winner receiving a shot at the U.S. strap.”

“I don’t even know why Frost is in this match.” Riley questions. “He is way above CIA and Ced Ordonez who have lifetime free passes on the job train and should be fighting for the WORLD TITLE here tonight not playing in the sandbox with the children over a shot at some Cracker Jack prize.”

“While Ced and CIA might not have had the early success in the WF that the tag champ has received, Ordonez is coming off an impressively hard fought win over Mak Francis at Ashes to Ashes while the Midnight Carnival’s favorite Canadian cleanly defeated the Icelandic Iceman at that same ppv.” Grand Slam points out. “Also, while Magnificent 7 stablemate Danny Williams holds that U.S. Title, there is no love loss between he and Frost from their time in the JL and Danny’s battering of Frost’s girlfriend Sydney Sky.”

“That was just business and Frost knows that. If Frost needs to tackle anybody, it’s the former Silent for putting his gal pal in a wheel chair…WAIT!” Riley purses his lips and leans back in his chair while putting a hand over his microphone to whisper to Mark. “Are we even recognizing that?”

Mark places his hand over his own mic and bends closer to Bobby. “Hell, I don’t even know if we’re recognizing the Frost/Sky relationship anymore. We’d have to ask the writers.”

The shot abruptly cuts to a large room filled with 1000 monkeys at 1000 typewriters. The animals halt their fervent typing to turn in tandem toward the camera and shrug their shoulders in unison.

The scene shifts back to the arena and focuses on Funyon preparing for introductions.

“Ladies in gentlemen,” he starts, “this is…SWF…SMARKDOWN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” Small silver fireworks pop randomly around the auditorium. “Our first match of the night will be a Triple Threat affair for U.S. Title Number One Contendership. Introducing first…”

Funyon’s voice fades to be replaced by “Esaka?” from King of Fighters ’96. The houselights dim to be replaced by a single spotlight illuminating a man on the entrance stage, a purple towel draped over his lowered head.

“weighing 203 pounds and hailing from Sacramento, California. He is…CED…OR… DO…NEZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ!” Funyon drawls and the crowd screams as the lights fire back up. Ced flips his head to send his towel flying. He catches it with one hand and heads down the ramp. He wings the towel into the throng and it flutters into the hands of some lucky SWF-ite.

Stevens: “We’ve been told that while Ced has been cleared to wrestle here tonight, he is still suffering the effects of a concussion caused by a vicious attack at the hands of ICTV Champion and former Bemani Cross Wizards partner Orochi over a week ago at Ashes to Ashes.”

Riley: “Ced was holding Orochi down. He knew it and he took care of the situation. Too bad Ordonez can’t smash his own head with a chair for holding himself down on his natural suckitude.”

Ced slides into the ring and snaps off a quick salute to the crowd before proceeding to stretch out in the upper left corner.

“And his opponent,” Funyon booms as the lights now acquire a slight red tint. The first bars of “O, Canada” waft out over the speakers while an image of the maple leaf flag flutters on the Smarktron. A female voice coos, “Midnight Carnival” and the riffing guitar of “Secret Agent Man” drops in to be greeted by mad cheering.

“a proud son of Ottawa, Canada and tipping the scales at 237 pounds. He is a rising star of the MIDNIGHT CARNIVAL, C…I…AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!”

The lights return to their normal hue as red fireworks explode along the sides of the ramp and sparkling red specks of light trickle from the ceiling to wash over the Canadian Intelligence Agent. He pulls a microphone out of the pocket of his jacket to speak.

“Tucson, Arizona…”the crowd pops like trained seals at the name of their city “you’re here to watch me battle Ced Ordonez. A fine wrestler who I’ll work with if I can so we can melt Frosty the Snowman!”

Riley: “He thinks he has Frost’s number, but who won in the tag title match on Storm?”

Stevens: “The Mag 7 contingent did retain.”

Riley: “And who submitted?”

Stevens: “CIA, to Tom Flesher.”

Riley: “I didn’t ask you who to.”

Stevens: “Frost has still never personally defeated the Intelligence Agent here in the WF.”

Riley: “I didn’t ask you that either.”

CIA trots up the ring stairs and stands on the apron with his arms held out to his side to allow the two Canadian flags from the sleeves of his jacket to hang down. He unzips the coat and hands it to an attendant before entering the ring.

Boos cascade down like thunder as “Frost Wants to Kill your Mama” fires up on the sound system. Funyon takes a deep breath to project his voice out over the noise.

“Finally, from Reykjavik, Iceland at a weight of 296 pounds. A member of the Magnificent 7 and one half of the SWF Tag Team Champions, the Velvet Hammer, FRRRRRRRRRRRRRROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSST!”

The lumbering monster strolls out from the backstage curtain with a confidence in his stride and a cigar dangling from his lips. He smiles whimsically at the rabid crowd response, which oddly warms his frozen heart.

Riley: “It’s like watching an angel glide to the ring.”

Stevens: “An angel of death. But one with his own personal death wish if he wants to tangle with the Hville Thugg as we saw on the end of Storm.”

Riley: “Of course he has his own personal death wish, Danny Williams. And for Thugg, he’s the broken down mare of the past. Frost is the ~HOSS~ of the future.”

Frost tows himself to the apron by the second rope and points at his opponents while barking at referee Sexton Hardcastle.

Stevens: “Frost doesn’t appear too enthused on entering the ring.”

Riley: “Look at Ced and CIA conferring in the corner. This isn’t a triple threat match it’s a god damn handicap match.”

Hardcastle urges Frost to get in the ring and he angrily spikes his smoldering cigar to the floor. Ordonez and CIA wave the big man in while he paces on the apron. Ced claps his hands as CIA gets the fans singing “Frosty the Snowman.”

Stevens: “There’s no rule saying the two fan favorites cannot work together, although only one can score the winning pinfall, whether it’s over themselves or the other jolly, happy soul in the contest.”

Riley: “That’s enough out of you, Shecky Stevens. Nobody ever wants to give Frost a fair shake, but he always figures a way to come out on top.”

Stevens: “Through cheating and treachery.”

Riley: “That’s one way.”

Frost rants and raves at the warbling fans from the apron. He unstraps his tag title from around his waist and hoists it up by one hand to elicit a chorus of boos to stall the singing.

Riley: “There you go right there. He always knows the right buttons to push.”

Stevens: “Frost hands off his belt to a ring attendant and begrudgingly steps into the squared circle as we finally get underway.”

DING DING DING

CIA and Ced charge Frost at the bell who calmly pokes his shoulder out between the ropes. Hardcastle steps in and holds up his hands to call the dogs off.

Stevens: “Apparently, Frost wasn’t quite ready. He’s stepping through the ropes and dropping to the floor to a heavy reign of boos.”

Hardcastle leans over the top cord and yells at Frost to get back in the ring. He points a finger at his adversaries and barks at the ref to have them keep their distance. CIA and Ced shake their heads with a smile and both measure the big man while hunched over with their hands on their knees. Sexton takes a deep sigh and starts a ring out count.

Riley: “Why don’t Ced and CIA wrestle each other? They’re looking to ambush Frost that’s why and he knows it. Hey…if Frost takes the count out loss does that mean Ced and CIA both go on to face Williams?”

Cut to a screeching monkey mashing his head into his typewriter and paper flying everywhere. Cut back.

Stevens: “Uh…I’m sure we’d cross that bridge if it comes to it.”

Frost paces the outside area and runs a hand across his face in contemplation. He glares at the men in the ring and then shakes his head knowingly. He skips back to the apron and urges the referee to keep the faces back for him to enter.

Stevens: “Frost is going to give it another go and he looks likes he might have a strategy figured out, but so might his combatants.”

Frost swings his legs over the top rope. The cooperative duo rush Frost once more who moves to go between the ropes again and they slow up. Frost then turns with a deceptive burst of speed and clotheslines both men with a meaty forearm.

Riley: “Strength over stupidity.”

Both grapplers leap back up, but are rocked with a double clothesline as Frost charges from the other way. He bellows a ferocious roar at the hissing crowd and cuts on his heel to catch his opponents as they struggle up stunned. This time, they expect the clotheslines and duck under the outstretched arms and rush for the far ropes. Frost spins and meets them coming off with a double dropkick to pop the audience!

Stevens: “Frost is down, but not for long. Ced and CIA pull him up by the wrists and sends him to the ropes.”

Frost bounces off as CIA steps to the foreground and Ced hangs back. The Carnie ducks and catches his hated rival on the upper part of his back and uses the man’s momentum to flip him off the canvas with a backdrop. The wily Filipino’s eyes follow the behemoth as he flips through the air and he catches the back of his head on his shoulder to ride the force of gravity to the mat!

WHAM!

Stevens: “Beautiful backdrop/neckbreaker combo by C&C to retain the advantage.”

Riley: “You’ve even named them! This is so unfair. Frost should be allowed to have a chair or a ball bat or a rabies infested weasel or something here.”

The pair meets up over Frost’s prone form and both cock an elbow, which they hammer down on Frost’s chest. They spin to their feet and crisply fall to drop another elbow apiece, but Frost sits up and they splat empty canvas!

Stevens: “The Icelandic Iceman is nowhere near done yet, but he already looks winded and sweaty.”

Riley: “Dealing with two men at once always makes me winded and sweaty.”

Stevens: “Riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiight!”

Riley: “In the ring!”

Frost tries to gain his breath. CIA and Ordonez pop up from the missed elbows and quickly leave their feet to fire synchronized dropkicks to the back of the neck! Frost snaps forward and tumbles over to lie on his stomach half out of the ring. C&C spring to their feet and dive with baseball slides to nudge Frost to the floor!

Stevens: “CIA and Ced follow Frost out to keep the pressure on and bring him to his feet.”

Riley: “If they all get counted out, does that mean no one faces Danny?”

Cut to a chirping monkey dumping lighter fluid on his typewriter and striking a match. Cut back.

Stevens: “Another fairly improbable situation with Hardcastle doing his best to force everyone back inside.”

Ced pins Frost’s arms behind his back while the Intelligence Agent works him over with punches and the ref fruitlessly yells at them to return to the ring. With Frost properly softened up, CIA skips back to place his right leg firm and shoots out his left with a superkick! Frost slips his shoulder down and bobs to the right to let the kick wallop Ced in the jaw! The fans ‘ooo’ in sympathy as Ordonez turns away holding his chin. CIA straightens up shocked and takes a big boot to the gut from Frost. He wickedly smiles and shoves the Carnie under the bottom rope with a hand on his rear.

Stevens: “Reminds me of the Grinch.”

Riley: “Frost’s heart isn’t two sizes too small, because he doesn’t have a heart at all. He was just waiting for them to try a dumb double team move like that to catch them.”

Frost catches Ced by his waistband and wheels him around to toss into the ring as well. Frost slides in after and pulls Ced to his feet. He forces him into the near corner with a driving shoulder while CIA fights up holding his stomach.

Stevens: “Frost might have wanted to leave Ordonez on the outside so he could work on CIA alone. He’s going to be quickly outnumbered again.”

Riley: “He has a plan, man.”

Frost keeps Ced in place with some cursory right hands as he spies on CIA out of the corner of his eye. The Canadian trips a few steps to the center of the ring, trying to shake off the stiff kick. Frost takes Ced by the wrist and ratchets him out of the corner to go sailing across the canvas on an Irish whip. The agent’s eyes go wide and he puts his hands up to catch the barreling down cruiserweight. They smack into each other and get tangled up. Frost charges to take advantage and sends a knee into Ced’s lower back to unkink their human jumble. Ordonez spins off and staggers to slump in the near corner. Frost snags the off balanced CIA by the wrist and swings him around in a half circle. He lets go as the Carnie faces the corner and CIA plunges into Ced chest to chest!

Stevens: “Frost is lining the human sandwich up in the corner…but…he’s just standing there.”

Ced’s eyes open from the impact of CIA running into him and his head snaps back with a start.

Riley: “Ced thinks CIA charged him in the corner! That’s why Frost is standing there, he’s setting the turkeys up!”

Frost freight trains across the canvas with a grunt. The hairs on the back of CIA’s neck stand up and he drops to the mat to slide to the apron out of instinct.

Riley: “Now he’s going to think CIA dodged the charge on purpose. We need to program NASA computers with Frost’s brain waves.”

Frost recoils from slamming into Ced. CIA grabs his head from the apron and pulls him over. He jumps off backwards to the floor and clotheslines Frost over the top rope! Frost timbers to the mat!

SPLAT!

Stevens: “Ced’s out it, but not the erstwhile secret agent. Frost is gasping for air. CIA leaps to the apron…grabs the top rope…SLINGSHOT SPLASH INTO THE RING!”

CIA maneuvers around to pin Frost and hook the leg.

ONE

TWO

TH-

Stevens: “ORDONEZ BREAKS THE COVER!”

A woozy Ordonez smacks CIA with an axehandle and the two men roll off to the canvas. They struggle to their feet and stare at each other. CIA holds the back of his head where Ced hit him and points down at Frost. The crowd murmurs, confused and unsettled.

Riley: “The Carnie selfishness and ego has already infected CIA. Like he thinks Ordonez doesn’t deserve a shot at the U.S. title. Well…he doesn’t, but still…”

Stevens: “Not to mention a bit of the groundwork Frost laid in an attempt to break up their working relationship in this contest.”

Ced points at the corner to remind the Canadian of that scene. CIA holds up his hands and shakes his head to signify that he had nothing to do with that. Ced narrows his eyes and readies a fist as CIA backs up, right into…

Stevens: “FROST WITH A ROLLUP FROM BEHIND!”

ONE

TWO

Ced tackles Frost from the side to break the schoolboy pin. They topple over to land with Ordonez straddling on top and hammering down punches!

Riley: “He can’t do that! Frost had this won! Ced is so selfish!”

Stevens: “He can break CIA’s pins, but he can’t break Frost’s?”

Riley: “Exactly, it’s about time you started getting the picture.”

CIA scampers across the canvas and to his feet. He puts a hand on Ced’s shoulder and tells him to lift Frost. Ordonez freezes with a right hand pulled back and eyes the Carnie suspiciously. Finally he stands with a slight shake of his head and the two men pull the battered big man up by the shoulders.

Stevens: “The Canadian Intelligence Agent is trying to foster some goodwill and teamwork back with Ced Ordonez. They whip Frost into the ropes and look to be setting up the neckbreaker/backdrop combo from earlier.”

CIA steps forward, but Ordonez sneaks up behind and scores a waistlock! The shocked agent throws an elbow to break, but it whizzes over the shorter man’s head as he bends his knees for leverage and hoists CIA across his right shoulder. Heavy boos come from the crowd as the much more beloved face is put down with a…

Stevens: “BACKDROP SUPLEX!”

Riley: “So much for goodwill and teamwork. There’s hope for that midget yet. Frost smartly hangs back, surveying the situation he created.”

CIA’s lays flat on his back as Ced rolls up to his feet. Frost sprints with his arm out for a clothesline. Ordonez spots him and dives for his ankle in an attempt at a dragon screw legwhip. However, Frost is too big and strong for the lightweight worker and he can’t flip him over. Frost brings his other leg up and over to boot Ced in the top of his noggin!

Stevens: “Ced tried for a dragon screw legwhip, but collapses on a boot to the head. That has to hurt him more than usual with that concussion still prevalent.”

Riley: “Duh. You think Frost doesn’t know that? He studies game film like Brett Favre heading to the Super Bowl.”

Ordonez hangs limply on Frost’s leg and he brings the man up by the ends of his spiky hair. The Icelander glances over to see CIA stirring and picks Ced straight up over his head in a guerilla press. He walks over to the fallen Carnie and pops Ordonez into the air with a twitch of his mighty biceps. He hangs in the air for a second before gravity wrenches him down to splash on top of CIA! Frost slumps against the near ropes winded and points down at the pair. “Count it,” he tells a perplexed Hardcastle and the crowd once again murmurs unsure.

ONE

TWO

THRE-

CIA kicks his legs and shoves Ced off.

Stevens: “What is he thinking? Letting Ced have a cover.”

Riley: “It’s the plan, man. Frost was there to make the save if need be.”

Frost fades into the far corner as CIA jumps to his feet and pulls the struggling Ced up by the shoulder. He gets in his face and shouts while gesturing toward the canvas.

Stevens: “CIA thinks Ced tried to pin him of his own volition!”

Riley: “Frost is just stirring up crap now to amuse himself. To quote the great Hannibal, ‘I love it when a plan comes together.’”

A groggy Ced holds a hand to his jumbled head and shoves CIA back with the other. The fans moan as they clue in to Frost’s intentions and wail for the two men not to fall into the trap. CIA pushes back. Ced looks at him with a snarl and shoves him again! The Canadian steps up and slaps Ced full across the left cheek! He turns his head with the blow, but then has it snapped back the other way with a slap to the right cheek! CIA rides the force of the slap around in a circle and cocks his arm for a roaring elbow! Ordonez, more insulted than hurt by the slaps, head fakes to miss it and reaches down to cuff the grappler around the thighs for a double leg takedown! He lets go and skips forward as CIA lays flat to drive two knees to his stomach!

Stevens: “Frost is just laughing in the corner at the evil he has wrought.”

Riley: “Ain’t it cool? He lets them destroy each other and then picks up the pieces.”

Ced rolls to his feet as CIA slumps to his side and holds his stomach. Ordonez lays him flat with his foot and drops an elbow to the stomach.

Stevens: “Ced is definitely softening CIA up for the Mark Out, but he’s completely forgetting about Frost hiding in the corner!”

Riley: “That concussion has what little brains he does have scrambled, not mention him being pissed at CIA for breaking their alliance.”

Stevens: “They didn’t turn on each other.”

Riley: “You know that, I know that and the crowd knows that, but they don’t know that.”

Ced positions his opponent just the way he wants him and heads for the ropes. He pops up to the second cord and takes more time than usual to steady himself with his dizzy skull ringing. The rumbling grumbles against Ced for attacking CIA turn to shouted warnings as Frost lopes out of the corner. Ordonez springs off the second rope and flips head over heels with his feet targeted on CIA’s midsection. However, Frost steps into the line of his springboarded arc and catches him over his shoulder! He pivots around while sliding Ced from the shoulder to across his torso and hammers him down with supreme force!

BAM!

Stevens: “A Rikishi Driver to that concussed skull! Frost took advantage of the distracted and dazed Ced for what might be the win. He covers!”

ONE!

TWO!

THREE-

Stevens: “NO! CIA BREAKS!”

Riley: “He’s going to get broken!”

CIA lies on Frost’s back and wraps his arms around the man’s throat. He squeezes for all he’s worth as Frost rolls off of Ced on his back and tries to crush the agent with his own weight.

Stevens: “Frost could have severely reaggravated that concussion, Ced could be out of it for the duration of this match.”

Riley: “Which won’t be much longer if Frost has his way.”

The pressure of Frost’s bulk forces CIA to loosen up his grip on the man’s throat and he finds the air to make his feet. The Icelander stumbles into the near corner to squash CIA against the turnbuckles. He finally releases his grip and slouches. Frost takes a step out and thrusts his wide back into CIA to mash him into the corner further. He throws his head back and takes a deep breath while wiping a sheen of sweat off his face.

Riley: “He’s giving CIA a chance to rest, I don’t like this.”

Frost holds the top rope firm and steps out for another back smash. As he flings himself into the corner, CIA takes the top rope for help and hops up with his knees thrust out. Frost takes the knobs of the masked man’s knees into his spin and stumbles out hurt! CIA staggers after and cinches a full nelson while grapevining the near leg. He sweeps forward and Frost eats mat!

Stevens: “THE VIA RAIL! CIA’s finisher of choice, but he wants to make sure his hated enemy is completely out of it.”

Riley: “Take the pin when you can, spazztard!”

The Canadian gingerly climbs the ropes facing the audience. He snaps off a military salute and bends his legs for extra spring. He flies off as flashbulbs pop. He slowly rotates over and pulls an elbow back. He hovers over Frost, but at the last instant, the monster’s eyes fly open and he reaches over to grab the nearby Ced Ordonez!

THUMP!

Stevens: “CIA HITS CED WITH THE AIR CANADA! Not his intended mark as the crafty Mag 7 member tows him on top for a human shield!”

Riley: “Rock, rock, Frost don’t stop!”

Frost throws the comatose Ordonez off and rockets to his feet. CIA trips up and turns to meet Frost. He plants his left leg and twirls with his right high for a spinning heel kick. Frost catches the leg and pitches it back the other way to spin the agent around. As he revolves toward Frost off kilter, he takes his wrist before he can react and lifts it up while stepping down and into the masked marvel with a bruising right hand to the ribs!

Stevens: “TOUCH OF FROST! CIA is reeling!”

Riley: “Reeling right into the Early Winter!”

CIA freezes up from the stunning blow and can’t fight being jammed into a standing head scissors. Frost hooks the arms around the elbows and flips him against his chest. He adds a little twirl and jackhammers CIA down, not only smacking his back into the canvas, but kissing his skull off of Ced’s as well.

CRACK!

Stevens: “What a sound! Both men have to be unconscious!”

ONE!

TWO!

THREE!

DING DING DING

Funyon: “Here is your winner by pinfall, FRRRRRRRRRROOOOOOOOSSSSSSSST!”

Frost lets go of CIA and slides out of the ring to take his feet on the floor. Hardcastle follows and raises his hand in victory. Frost lets him hold it for a brief second and then jerks it away. The crowd hisses and snarls and Frost gives as good as he gets. He retrieves his tag title from the timekeeper’s table and Bobby Riley can be seen in the corner of the screen giving a polite golf clap.

Riley: “Bravo! Exquisite! It’s like watching Picasso paint or Mozart play or Jenna Jameson give a hummer! The artistry! The technique!”

Stevens: “Frost took the win here on his wit just as well as his brawn. He pitted two hated foes against each other and took the advantage.”

Riley: “And he finally scored a pinfall victory over CIA.”

Stevens: “Although, still not in singles competition.”

Riley: “You have to poop on everyone’s kitchen floor, don’t you?”

Frost trots up the entrance ramp and turns to eye the two men still down in the ring. He holds his belt aloft and joyously soaks in the fan hatred as the screen fades to black.

December 11, 2002

The camera comes on to catch an exhausted and sweaty Frost walking into the Mag 7 locker room after his triple threat match with Ced Ordonez and CIA. He shuffles in with his tag belt limply draped over his right shoulder. He sets in a high back wooden chair at a small table and hangs his head. A shadow falls over his form and soon the “Superior One” Tom Flesher struts into frame. The crowd out in the arena can be heard booing the man’s very existence. He throws his gym bag down on the floor and drops his half of the tag titles on a black leather couch. He is dressed in a simple black polo shirt and jeans.

“Man, it took me forever to get in from the airport. These Tucson fans won’t leave me alone, but then again how many huge superstars do they get around here.” The fans’ booing sparks anew at the insult. “So, big man, have you sent the job train out of the station?” Flesher reaches behind him to open a mini-fridge as he tosses off the question.

Frost raises his head and says with a sigh, “Well, I…”

“That’s great, Frosty, good job.” Flesher praises without listening to him. He pulls a bottle of Guinness out of the fridge and reaches for the bottle opener on his keys. “Who do I have to blow to get a keg in our locker room? These Guinness bottles just aren’t the same.”

Frost narrows his eyes into a cold hard stare at his tag team partner and stable leader. Flesher turns his head to his top lieutenant as he tips the bottle to his lips and takes a short swig. He lowers the bottle and lifts his eyebrows quizzically, “Problem?”

“I’ve got a problem. I’ve got a lot of problems.” Frost’s voice develops a distinctive edge as he leans closer to Flesher. “I’m opening the show against two men who don’t deserve to carry my bags. I’m put on the bottom of the list for a World Title shot. And you wouldn’t let me take out that punk Hville Thugg on the end of Storm Friday.”

Tom holds up his hands for Frost to slow down and stands. “Whoa, whoa, one problem at a time here. I don’t hold any sway over the booking, but if you keep racking up all those impressive wins you have over the likes of Xero and Zenon, I’m sure you will be on that King’s Road right next to me.” Flesher flashes a big smile down at Frost who returns it with a frown. “Just not right yet. As for Thugg, that’s a whole mess I don’t want to get involved in.”

Frost shoots to his feet, knocking his chair over as he stands. “Thugg is an old washed up loser. I saw how he was looking at me, trying to intimidate me. He might be bigger, he might be more experienced, but he isn’t better than me. I can take that, face” he spits on the floor to emphasize the slur “anytime.”

“Sure you can, sure you can.” Flesher turns his head and rolls his eyes, to show that he might not have that much faith in Frost. “Thugg isn’t even under contract right now and Stubby doesn’t want him to be. I don’t want to go messing around in the Commissioner’s business and I don’t want you to either. That’s not good for you, that’s not good for the Magnificent 7 and it’s certainly not good for me.” Flesher takes another drink and the two men stand in silence. Frost seethes with the veins in his neck and arms straining against his skin, his eyes flashing fiery hatred. Tom takes another a sip, a little more tentatively this time and chooses his next words carefully.

“Then again, if Thugg is involved with the Carnies and specifically El Luchadore Magnifico and the Carnies are involved with us, he could become a very BIG problem. One I’m sure you can deal with.”

Frost swells his chest with pride. “I’ll cram him into the bottom of the hurt locker and seal it shut on him forever. And then, after that, I’ll collect that bounty and on my way to face Magnifico for the title. And we know what happens after that…”

“Riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiight.” Flesher draws out, not giving much credence to the end of Frost’s plans. “Anyway, I should probably get ready for this cake walk of a match I have tonight and check in with Judge and Danny. They’re probably mooching food in the green room.” The Superior One takes one last drink of his beer and sits it down on the table. “We’ll talk more about this later, but you know I’ve got your back if needed.” He gives a thumbs up and a patented false smile before leaving the room.

Frost stares at the doorway as Flesher leaves and shakes his head, lost in thoughts and anger. Suddenly, a closet door on the opposite side of the room flies open and the crowd erupts with cheers as the Hville Thugg storms out of it with a steel chair at the ready.

Frost tenses as he feels a presence behind him, but takes a chair shot to the upper part of his back before he can turn around. He slumps over and grabs the top of the chair he was sitting in.

“Lookin’ for this old washed up loser, huh?” Thugg rumbles out in his gritty voice and smashes the chair over Frost again to another loud pop. Frost falls to knees and grimaces in pain.

“Gonna’ put me on yo’ job train, huh?” Thugg swings the chair like a Louisville slugger and cracks Frost across the back. He falls to the floor on his face.

“Gonna’ cram me in yo’ hurt locker, huh?” Thugg blasts Frost with the chair again to another loud smack. He grunts and writhes in pain on the carpet.

“You can take this, face,” Thugg spits a thick loogie on Frost’s back “anytime, huh?”

Thugg drops his chair and picks up Flesher’s beer from the table and finishes what’s left in it. He haphazardly drops the bottle so it clonks Frost in the head and the Iceman groans.

“Thanks for the beer…FACE.”

HVT exits the shot and the camera zooms in on Frost’s prone and battered form before fading out.

December 11, 2002

“The following is a standard one fall match. The first competitor….”

Drumbeats begin to softly filter in as the lights dim to a harsh red, and a voice speaks over it.

“Sigil, you should have never crossed us. I’m a giant killer, and I fully intend to destroy you like I did Sharpe and Thor. So, Sigil, surrender now or surrender later because either way, you are going to submit to the will of the Magnificent 7!”

Suddenly, the cymbal hits, and a split second of silence before…

“NOW TESTIFY!”

“Hailing from Royal Oak, Michigan, and weighing in at 250 pounds…. Judge Mental!”

3 Rows of red pyros shoot into the air as the confident voice reveals himself to the crowd, and Judge Mental walks down the aisle with his very deliberate walk and slides into the ring.

“Well, Bobby,” Remarks Stevens, “It looks like Mental is pretty confident coming off a loss against Nathan Kibagami.”

“Freak roll up, Stevens, freak roll up. While Silent-”

“Kibagami.”

“Whatever the hell he calls himself was damn close to having his neck broken again in a Dragon Suplex, and the Judge deserved the win. I’m sure he’s gonna show his stuff in this one.”

“And his opponent…”

The tolling of a cathedral 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 "Halo" by Soil begins pumping through the speakers, and the lights return to normal to reveal Sigil already standing on stage. He walks down, silently and stoically, a man on a simple mission: To destroy the man in front of him. No more, no less.

“There isn’t only the threat of losing here for Judge Mental, Bobby,” Starts Mark, “But the fear of an after match beatdown. Without fail, Sigil has always had an after match bloodying of his opponent, except for on Storm, where Judge Mental ran in and saved Annie Eclectic. If Mental doesn’t win tonight, there is going to be hell to pay.”

*DING DING DING*

Mental goes down into his normal grappling stance, looking for an opening as Sigil slowly steps out of his corner. The Judge begins to circle him, looking for an opening, and Sigil comes right at him, fist cocked back ready to strike…

… and the Judge drops to the ground, scissoring the legs of the giant in a drop toe hold. He immediately tries to go for a Crossface STF, but the 6’ 8” monster powers out of it. Mental rolls away and back from the big man, an arrogant smirk on his face. Sigil, on the other hand, only narrows his eyes a little, the only visible emotion shown on his face.

“Well, Judge certainly has the advantage on the ground, but how long can he keep Sigil on the mat?”

“As long as he wants, that’s how long! Judge is a brilliant submissions wrestler, and he has dozens of different takedown’s he can use. He’ll keep the man down long enough to have his way with him.”

“I’m sure you’d enjoy that, Riley…”

“Damn right I would.”

Mental circles again, his arms out and his body low in his grappling stance and the Voice watches him closely. With a quick burst of speed, Mental dashes in, ducking under one of Sigil’s punches and maneuvering in behind the behemoth for a waistlock. He begins to bring him over top of him like he did the larger Thor in the JL, but Sigil is much more of a wrestler than the God of Thunder ever was. The big man sandbags, grabbing at Mental’s hands in attempt to weaken the smaller man's grip. The Judge tries hard to bring him up, but he isn’t Vader and Sigil certainly isn’t as small as Antonio Inoki. After getting only a few scant inches off the ground, Mental is forced to put him back down, and Sigil breaks the waistlock. He wastes no time in locking in a ¾ headlock on the Judge, and leaps forward, pulling along one unwilling SWF Bumpee along with him. The crowd goes dead silent as Mental is left on the ground clutching his neck in extreme pain.

“Jesus Christ! Mark, did you see that! A God Damn Diamond Cutter! And this early in the match! It doesn’t matter who you are, that puts you down for good time! I can’t believe the match is over already.” Says Riley, amazed at how quickly The Voice was able to put on a finishing blow.

“No, Bobby, it’s not a finisher…” Says Grand Slam, who watches Sigil step over top of Mental, his emotionless, almost lifeless eyes staring down at the fallen man.

“With Sigil, that move is only the beginning.”

The man picks up his boot and begins laying stiff stomps on Mental, who covers himself in a futile effort to shield himself from the endless boot heels hitting him. He continues to lay them on the fallen man, until he puts his foot down right on his neck, and the ref begins to yell at him for the blatant choke. Mental flails about like a fish out of water as the ref begins to make the count.

ONE!

TWO!

THREE!

FOUR!

FIV-And Sigil takes his foot off of Mental’s throat, and the Judge rolls to the outside, falling to the ground as he gasps for air.

The Voice slowly walks to the ropes and slides out of the ring, and a barely recovered Mental has barely any time to get up before he is met with a stiff “Hardway” punch, nailing him square in the nose and causing him to stagger back into the guardrails. The ref yells at them to get back into the ring, but Mental doesn’t really have a choice and Sigil has once again tuned him out, and the man in the black and white strips begins his count.

ONE!

Sigil keeps the heat on, giving another hard right to Mental, and the Judge keeps staggering backwards as The Voice’s onslaught continues. He lands a jab into the stomach of the Magnificent 7 member….

TWO!

And all the air in Mental is knocked right out. He gives a few hoarse gasps, but Sigil refuses to let up an inch, grabbing him around the throat…

THREE!

And picking him up into the air! Sigil walks over to the apron, with Mental in tow weakly kicking the chest of the Voice…

FOUR!

And Sigil brings his left hand off Mental’s neck, bringing it down between the Judge’s legs for leverage as he tosses him back into the ring. Once again, Judge Mental finds himself gasping for breathe as Sigil slowly makes his way back into the ring.

“Jesus, when Sigil says he dominates, he really means it! I don’t know whether he was warming up on Annie or not, but he’s just methodically destroyed Mental.” Says Riley, and Stevens explains.

“The problem is that Mental has never gone one on one with a hardcore brawler of Sigil’s size. He had Tim Dillon in the SJL, but the man was only 160 pounds and 5’ 9”. Sigil is a good 6’8”, 290 something pounds and he puts all his power into each blow. Annie didn’t have much of a problem with him because she is naturally a brawler and she knows the style, but the Judge is really having problems adapting here.”

“…. Mark, what the hell are you talking about?! Sigil is simply better than Mental! Now that I see him like this, I think that it may have been a big mistake in bumping him so early.”

The Voice steps over top of the ropes, and lifts Mental up by one of his arms. He puts the man in a front Headlock, trying to wrench him down to the ground. The Judge manages to keep himself up, but only barely as the veteran is able to pull himself back to the ropes, and with a mighty “OMPH!” he pushes Sigil off his head, sending him running at the ropes. Mental waits for a moment, and as The Voice approaches on the other he lifts his foot up in one lighting fast motion for a Superkick… that misses! Not ducked, but Mental actually misses Sigil’s head by about an inch and a half, and the fearless warrior passes by to hit the ropes on the other side. He picks up even more speed, and as the Judge turns around….

WWWWHHHHHHAAAAAAMMMMMMMMMM!!!!!!!!!

Mental flips head-over-heels as Sigil nails a clothesline that would have stopped a charging bull! The crowd gives a big “Ooohhh…” as Mental lays lifeless on the ground, and Sigil puts his foot over top of him for the pin, looking downward into the fallen man’s pain-contorted face.

ONE!

TWO!

THRENO! Mental instinctively puts his shoulder up, and Sigil puts his foot down on his chest again, and the Judge gives a hoarse cough as the ref goes to count the pin again.

ONE!

TWO!

THRENO! Once again, Mental gets his shoulder an inch off the ground, and Sigil removes his boot off the Judge’s chest.

“After one incredible clothesline Sigil goes for two covers, but Judge Mental still has enough strength to get out of them.”

“At this point, I think it’s safe to say ‘JUDGE, STAY THE HELL DOWN!’ I mean, really, he doesn’t have a chance against Sigil now. I’d give up if I were him.”

“Riley, you give up on Pickle jars that are on too tight.”

“Hey, those things are tough to get off! I mean, they put them on so tight…”

The Voice grips his Mental’s neck and pulls him to his feet, with the Judge grimacing in agony as he struggles against Sigil’s iron grasp. The massive man quickly whips Judge Mental at the ropes, and picks him up over his head military press style! The crowd gives an amazed “OH!” as Sigil turns around in a circle, showing off Mental like a prized trophy for all to see.

“This is it! Redemption! Sigil is going to finish off the match right here right now!” Cries Grand Slam as Sigil stops turning and prepares to bring him down to the ground… but Mental rolls off top of The Voice to the front, and locks in a ¾ headlock. In an instant, he leaps forward, nailing Sigil to the ground with a brutal Diamond Cutter! The crowd gives a small cheer for the fantastic maneuver, but quickly dies down as both of the men lie motionless on the ground.

“Surprise Witness from Judge Mental! He changed it before he came up to the WF so he could pull it out of nowhere, and I’m sure he’s glad he did that now.”

Mental is the first of the wrestlers to recover, pushing himself off the ground with his arms and looking over at Sigil. He slowly crawls over to the big man, each moment passing giving Sigil more time to recover. The Judge finally gets over and pushes him over for the pin!

ONE!

“I can’t believe it! Mental could do it here!”

TWO!

“I can’t either, Bobby! I don’t think either league has had such a one-sided match since Cutthroat vs. Silent in the JL, or maybe even Tod vs. ELM.”

THREENO! Sigil gives a powerful kickout, showing that he isn’t near done yet.

Mental rolls away and gets up, hoisting himself into a corner and looking on as the giant hoists himself up slowly but surely, and looks over at the Judge. Once again, his gaze is blank, and the Magnificent 7 member can only give back a ragged one as Sigil charges the corner, going for a massive spear….

…. But finding no one home as Mental is able to fall out of the way and The Voice nails the post with his shoulder. Pulls himself out of the space between the ropes, showing no pain in his face at all, and he slowly begins to bring himself to full height…

WHAM!

But Mental brings him right down to the mat with a Fujiwara Armbar on the side that Sigil nailed into the post. He torques the arm backwards, trying to pull it out of the socket, but Sigil barely struggles as the Judge pulls it back. He stretches his legs far back, and it only takes a moment for him to reach the nearby ropes. The ref begins to yell at the Judge to release the hold, but Mental keeps torquing it, trying to get as much out of this opportunity as he can.

ONE!

TWO!

THREE!

FOUR!

FI- And Mental releases the hold so as not to be DQed.

“Mental almost had something going there, but he tried for the Fujiwara a little too close to the ropes there.”

The Judge rolls up to his feet, and Sigil slowly gets back up as well. The Judge charges in, trying to get a grapple, but Sigil catches him by the neck, quickly lifting him up, and dropping him back down with an incredible Chokeslam! The ring shakes for a moment as Mental lies on the ground, and Sigil kneels down behind the Judge’s head for a moment. He puts his hands around Mental’s chin and begins pulling back hard, and the Judge kicks his legs furiously, showing the crowd how painful the submission is.

“The Shroud! He’s got it locked in on Mental’s neck! After the pummeling he’s taken, the Judge is going to have to tap out!”

The old veteran furiously reaches for the ropes with his feet, oh-so-close...

…. Latches his boot toe on the bottom rope!

ONE!

TWO!

THREE!

FOUR!

FIVE!

…..

Six?

The ref begins yelling at Sigil again to break the hold, but Sigil has him totally tuned out. He immediately calls for the bell and for some reinforcements to help him get The Voice off the helpless Judge.

*DING DING DING*

“The winner of the match via Disqualification, Judge Mental!”

“Sigil refuses to break the hold, and Judge Mental wins by Disqualification! He should be counting his blessing after being massacred like that…” Says Grand Slam, but Riley points something out.

“Mark, Sigil still hasn’t broken the hold yet.”

Sigil continues to pull back hard, and the Judge’s eyes are wide open from the pain. He can barely stand it anymore, but his will and his ego refuse to let him tap out. He tries, even as a two of the refs try to pull Sigil off of him to no avail, to not do it, but old instinct takes over…

TAP TAP TAP

Finally, at that moment, a third and fourth referee come into the ring, and with a mighty heavy ho, they pull Sigil off top of the Judge. Mental quickly takes this chance to roll out of the ring and away from the Voice. He begins walking up the entrance ramp as the refs restrain the Voice from advancing up to finish the job, and slowly the old man exits, leaving Mark and Bobby to speculate.

“Wow, that’s the first time the Judge has EVER tapped in the SWF/SJL. Even though it wasn’t during the match-”

“Doesn’t matter, he tapped! The wuss. Look at Mak Francis. He was great up until he tapped. Then his career went down the drain. Flesher has never tapped, and that’s why he’s our next World Champ.”

“Well, like it or not, I don’t think we’ve seen the last of these two. We’ll be back after this next commercial break for Danny Williams versus Mak Francis, ironically. We’ll just see how done his career is, won’t we Bobby?”

“It’s OVER, Mark. Once he left the Mag 7, he wasn’t worth crap.”

“Anyways, we’ll be back after this quick break, so stay tuned!”

December 11, 2002

The scene flickers on just in time to catch a heavy wooden door nearly blasted off its hinges with a ferocious kick. The sweaty, mammoth form of Frost lumbers into the room. He turns his head to stare at an off camera figure and points out a finger. His red and swelling back from HVT’s earlier chair attack can clearly be seen.

“Where is he?” Frost croaks.

The camera swings around to show El Luchadore Magnifico sitting on a couch, gripped with surprise. The fans in the arena can be heard popping in the background from the sight of the World Heavyweight Champion. He quickly leaps to his feet and runs over to Frost.

“We don’t want any trouble, here senor. Just calm down.” Magnifico puts his hands up in trying to settle the Icelander.

“Where is he?” Frost snarls more menacingly this time.

“CIA’s taking a shower, you don’t want to jump a man in there.” ELM jerks his head back toward a doorway at the rear of the locker room and the roar of a shower can be heard spraying.

“Not him! Thugg!” Frost leans down and goes nose to nose with the shorter grappler and the crowd can be heard popping again for the name drop.

“Hville Thugg?” Magnifico replies confused.

“No, the Albuquerque Thugg!” Frost barks out to send bits of spittle into the World Champion’s face. “Don’t play your silly Carnie games with me! You snuck that face into the building on Storm, you snuck him into the building tonight.”

ELM backs up from Frost and tenses, prepared to fight if need be. “If Thugg is here tonight, I don’t know about it, senor. I left him in Milwaukee chugging down a Schlitz brewery.”

Frost’s muscular body tremors with rage as he tries to keep himself calm. A sudden back spasm jerks his whole form and he grits his teeth to fight down the agony. “You want to tell me jokes, little man? You want me to cram you in the hurt locker while I look for Thugg myself? Maybe he’s already in the hurt locker!”

Frost spins on his axis and hammers a wild haymaker into a set of lockers along the back wall. The door buckles with a huge dent. Frost pulls his fist back and wallops the next locker, and the next and the next. The doors limply swing open and the last one clanks to the ground, completely busted.

“It’s a little hard to hide a seven foot two near 400 pound man, senor.” Magnifico shakes his head, somewhat amused by the scene.

The comment incites Frost more and he flips over a nearby table and boots over the black leather couch ELM was sitting on when he entered. Frost lets out a primal bellow and then goes nose to nose with ELM again, he doesn’t shrink an inch from the raging monster.

“Where’s your whore!” He grumbles.

“I don’t think Annie would appreciate being called that.”

Frost jabs a finger in ELM’s chest and lowly growls “Whoooooooooooooore!”

“She’s not trying to stash Thugg or anything.” Magnifico assures him. “She’s taking a shower.”

Frost’s head juts up and he stares back at the shower room, putting two and two together.

“We’re all just one big happy famila here.” Magnifico offers.

Frost blows by him and heads for the showers. He calls, “Flip!” as he enters and a feminine scream bleats out.

“Stop looking at my schlong, perv!” chides a Canadian accented voice.

Frost reemerges with his hair flattened from the steam and dew on his bare upper torso. He strides past ELM and heads for the door. He turns to address Magnifico again before leaving.

“The Midnight Carnival thinks they can run everything, while the Magnificent 7 KNOWS we can. I’ll find Thugg and make him feel the consequences of an Early Winter. Then I’ll come back here and take that World Title belt from you before you pawn it for tequila.”

Frost storms out to continue his quest. The camera zooms in on El Luchadore Magnifico as the corners of his mouth slowly rise into a wry smile and the scene fades.

December 11, 2002

The camera comes on with Mark Stevens and Bobby Riley live at the sold out Tucson Convention center in Tucson, Arizona!

“Hello and Welcome back to SWF SMARKDOWN!” shills the best play-by-play man in the business Grand Slam Mark Stevens. “We’ve had a great show here LIVE in the -”

“Yeah, yeah Grand Shill.” interrupts Bobby Riley. “You’ve been doing the same shill for every match MARK. I’m sure the viewing audience understands that we’re BACK and LIVE and all that other crap!”

“Well then Bobby, would you like to do this?”

“Sure!” replies Riley cracking his neck to loosen up. “While I’m becoming a fan of Mr. Franchisable himself Mak Francis again, this next match doesn’t matter as Danny’s gonna' drop Mak on his head, period!”

“Shouldn’t that be exclamation point?” quips Stevens rolling his eyes. “Anyways we have a match up here that could be very big for Mak Francis as he needs to keep this win streak going if he wants any type of title shot.” Mentions Stevens.

“But Danny Williams also needs this win to solidify himself and his newly won US title.” adds Riley.

“Very true Bobby,” starts Stevens. “… and you can see many similarities between Francis’s match with ICTV champion Orochi and this one since Williams is looking to make a statement in this non title bout.”

“If Mak could get another big win over a champion here tonight you have to wonder if he’s not in line for some kind of title shot.” adds Mark, while Bobby checks his notes. “And with that Peterson roll he used last match to pin Orochi, who knows if Mak could gain a roll up win over the second champion he’s faced in two shows!”

“Well I don’t think he’ll be pulling that Peterson roll out of the moth balls again as Danny scouts his opponents very well!”

Suddenly the lights go out! Funyon gets ready and the crowd gets ready as the first riff of “Down with the Sickness” by Disturbed plays lowly over the PA system, getting louder as it is picking up in pace…

“The following contest is a NON TITLE match scheduled for ONE FALLLLLL!” yells Funyon feeling the beat.

** 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. Then the lights come back up and 'The Franchise' comes out onto the stage to an actual solid pop that can be heard over most of the boos!

“Making his way to ringside, from Philadelphia, PA and weighing in at two hundred and twenty five pounds … “The Franchise” MAAAK FRAAAAAANCISsssssss!”

Francis slowly strolls down to ringside, enters through the middle ropes and then poses in the center of the ring with both his hands raised in the air!

“It seems as though this crowd is getting behind Francis already! And after that display of technical workmanship and skill last match I guess it is understandable!” states Stevens.

“Meh, a roll up is a roll up anyway you slice it.” Shoots back Riley. “And while I’m a fan of that Franchisable move as well I’d like to see some head dropping goodness!”

As Riley finishes his statement the gentle melodies of In Flame’s “Jester’s Dance” echoes through the arena!

“And his OPPONENT!” continues Funyon.

Williams pushes his way through the heavy curtains draping from the locker room entrance, and slowly makes his way out to the platform. The fans finally getting a glimpse of Williams boo like Philly fans when Kobe Bryant got the NBA All-Star Game MVP!

“… making his way to ringside… from Louisville, Kentucky and weighing in at two hundred and thirty eight pounds… “DEATHWISH” DAAAAAANNNY WILLLLIAMSsssssssssssss!”

Williams just lets the fans boo as long as they want, taking his sweet time getting down the ramp like he owns the joint! Williams finally gets in the ring and Mike Soapdish asks for the bell!

DING! DING! DING!

The thicker Williams and Francis turn the circle, getting a feel for the ring and their opponent as the match starts. Williams is the first to commit and the two guys get a collar and elbow tie up! Williams takes full control with a side headlock – but Mak pries his fingers apart before he can transition into the back waist lock and scores an arm wringer, which he parleys into a hammerlock! Danny searches for a route of escape between his legs and with a back elbow but neither work. Francis moves quickly to get a headlock of his own as Williams seemed to be surprised by the speed he countered with. Danny wraps a hand around the Franchise’s back and pushes the duo into the near ropes, forcing Mak to break the hold. Upon his return Francis charges into Williams with a shoulder block – that does nothing!

“Williams has such a low center of gravity that with his weight allows him to take moves like that from taller man.”

“And while technically proficient Danny doesn’t like to do all that Junior Heavyweight wristlock dancing!” quips Riley. “He just wants to get you close, elbow you in the mouth, maybe kick you in you’re teeth and then drop you on your head, nuff said?”

“Hey Riley’s a poet and he didn’t know it…” says Stevens cringing at that fact that he’s been told to say that horrid joke.

Danny just stares down at the Franchise as Mak gets back up and rebounds off the ropes again with another shoulder block – but this time he ends up put down on his ass! You can see that Williams has no love for the attempt at Junior like stuff before picking Mak up by the neck and laying an left elbow to his head!

*Crack!*

Mak takes the shot and replies with a stiff knife-edge to the chest!

“WHOOOO!” shouts the crowds as Williams brings hits a second elbow, *Crack!* staggering Francis even more than the first, but Mak fights through and hits another knife-edge – but Williams absorbs the blow and grabs his arm from the follow through pulling it over his shoulder and driving it down onto its solid mass! Before Francis can even cradle his arm Deathwish reaches over his head and snitches in a front chancery, cutting off the blood flow to Mak’s head! The self proclaimed Franchise struggles to free himself but gets lifted up vertically and then unceremoniously dropped on his back! Danny floats over for the cover and Soapdish hit the mat…

ONE

TWO

No. Deathwish just gets a two count.

Williams not one to go on the defensive picks Francis back up and buries a knee strike deep into Francis’s gut, doubling him over! Danny Williams pounds on Francis with a forearm shot to the back before leveling him with a knee to the face, pretty much playing pinball with the Franchise’s body!

“Williams is practically mauling Francis!” mutters Stevens.

“He brings the VIOLENCE~!” responses Riley. “And I see no problem with that!”

Francis falls to one knee trying to blink away the pain as Deathwish quickly slides around behind him and locks on a back waist lock before hoisting the taller man into the air and onto the canvas stacked up in a German suplex while Danny arches up onto his toes holding a bridge!!

ONE

TWO

T

H-

No. Francis rolls through and lands on his stomach!

Williams gets up to one knee clapping his hand three times to let Soapdish know he thought that should have been a three count! The self proclaimed Franchise is in low spirits as he covers his neck and head after the German suplex but Danny is quite pleased with the way things are turning out grinning at the crowd, showing them his chipped tooth. The SWF fanatics start chanting “Franchise” as Williams walks over to Mak, who is just now getting to one knee! Francis looks up slowly, as he feels the hands of the supposed roid freak raps around his head, only to see a thick round object bludgeon him in the face!

“Man it looks like Williams is absolutely loving the tempo of this match…” notices Stevens. “… and Francis just HAS to speed this match up if he’s going to have any chance at all!”

“See Danny Williams is like a tank! He may be a little on the slow side but he’ll pound you down and then whip out the heavy artillery!”

Mark wonders for a second if his partners talking about wrestling…

“And his Deathbomb and Dangerous Backdrop are DEFINITELY heavy artillery!” clears up Riley.

Williams stands over Francis trying to egg him into getting up by toeing him on the head and apparently he’s doing a good job because Francis fights up to one knee again! The Franchise swings two weak right hands at the gut of Williams which just rolls off him as he picks Mak up to his vertical base. Francis tries to put something behind his punches but Deathwish ends this weak attempt at an attack by hitting two nasty elbows to the side of his face…

*Crack! Crack!*

And then following that up by rotating around and…

*CRACK!*

“Rolling elbow~!” Yells Bobby marking out like a putts while Francis just spins around and his knees give out – but Williams isn’t done yet! He steps off to the side of falling Francis and reaches around and under…

“Oh my, if Williams hits a Backdrop Driver it’s all over…”

But Riley has a different point of view. They call it marking out! “BACKDROP DRIVAAAAAAH~!”

Mak’s vision is hazy and his equilibrium is gone, until he feels Deathwish’s grasp! His eyes suddenly as wide as dinner plates, Francis feels Williams lifts him into the air positioning him parallel to the mat with a slight grunt of “Aiiiiiie!” - BUT the Franchise rolls over the top and out of the Dangerous Backdrop dropping to his knees on the canvas! Francis reaches under the leg of a surprised Danny Williams and yanks him down onto the mat in a Schoolboy!!

ONE

TWO

T

H

R

E-

No! Danny gets a shoulder up at two and a half!

Williams rolls backwards, then immediately pops up, visibly upset at the Franchise’s use of a schoolboy as Francis now stands tall and although he still feels much like a fish out of water Mak tunes up the band and catches an angry and charging Williams with a full extension superkick that glances off his jaw and spins him around! The crowd chants Francis’s name hoping that he can defeat Williams!

“Francis rolls outta’ the Dangerous Backdrop and scores a superkick!”

“Man Danny must have been really pissed off by that roll up to blindly charge Francis like that!”

Mak backs up a few step using the ropes for an extra push before springing forward, taking one… two… three steps and leaping into the air grabbing Danny’s head and plastering it into the canvas!!

“Bulldog!” Shouts Stevens. “And Bobby, Williams is a straight ahead guy that likes to grind his opponent into the mat and once he decides he wants to use a move he’ll keep setting you up for it until it hits. So maybe roll ups just seem weak and cheap to him... I think he even added the cross arm breaker to his submission set just to counteract it!”

Mak pushes himself up and falls back into the ropes parallel to Williams before strutting forward and driving his fist into Danny’s face with a Deathwish!!! Mak rolls from his knees onto his back over his M7 opponent as Soapdish drops to make the count…

“Cover!” is quickly yelled as Francis attempts to hook a leg!

ONE

TWO

T

H-

No. Williams gets a kick out before two and half!

The crowd raises the volume on their “Franchise” chant as Mak stays on him Irish whipping Danny – but the M7 enforcer reverses the whip and sends Francis barreling into the ropes! Mak is nowhere near ready for Danny’s next attack as he rebounds straight into a standing back elbow SMASH!! Mak crumples into a heap on the floor and the crowds “chant” gets squashed just like their Franchisable superstar! And Bobby Riley is quick to point out just how stiff an elbow that was!

“Man I love Danny’s style. It’s always hard and stiff…”

“And normally that’d be a good thing but not the way you’re suggesting it…”

Francis crawls up to his hands and knees but Williams pulls him up and Irish whips him – but stops it, short arming Mak back into a nasty hooking lariat! “Deathwish” shakes out his arm and casually falls into a cover, which Mike Soapdish counts…

ONE

TWO

T

H

R

E-

No! Francis barely gets a shoulder up!

“Deathwish” Danny Williams stares at Soapdish but gets right back on Francis flipping him onto his belly and snitching in a front chancery!

“Williams goes back to that front chancery we saw earlier and he leans all his weight on the Franchise’s neck while cutting off the blood flow.” Points out Grand Slam, trying to give the home audience a more in-depth view of what Williams may be thinking. “And I believe that’s the way to go because the only time Mak’s gotten any offense it was in a flurry and he had the crowd behind him. This slows him down and takes the crowd out of it.”

Francis after working with the hold for about 30 seconds gets under Williams and uses the leverage he gained, wrapping his arms around his opponents back and interlocking them, to raise the duo from off the ground. Danny sensing the momentum could shift stands up quickly looking for a spike DDT!! But as Williams jumps Mak pops his hips and flashes him overhead bridging on his toes, landing in a Northern Lights suplex!!! Mike Soapdish leaps from the submission questioning position to count…

ONE

TWO

T

H

R-

No! Danny Williams bridges up breaking the count but Mak’s weight is a little too much for him and he falls again!! Soapdish gets no rest as he drops again.

ONE

TWO

T

H

R

E-

No! “Deathwish” Danny Williams gets a shoulder up!!

Francis is the first one up and peppers Williams with a right hand! The crowd chants “Franchise” in time with his punches as he hit one after another… after another – but Danny ducks the fourth blow causing the crowd to hush… Mak spins around and Danny grabs him lifting him up parallel to the mat!!!

…

But Francis rolls through for the second time!!!

…

Mak reaches underneath and grabs for a schoolboy – but Danny grabs HIS arm and flips over rolling Mak onto his back in a cross arm breaker!!!

“There it is!” Shouts Riley. “The counter to the schoolboy! Danny whips out the cross arm breaker and that was great anticipation by the M7 enforcer!”

“Francis is writhing in pain and the question is could Danny Williams make Mak Francis tap?!”

“Only two people have done that but I think that Danny’ll become the THIRD!”

Mak kick his legs wildly as Danny Williams wrenches away at the arm trying to hyper extend it!! Mak scoots over on his back still fighting off the over extension of his arm as Soapdish asks if he will surrender!!! Francis arm starts shaking from the pain as he can barely hold out!!! The ropes are so close to his feet, yet so far away!!!

...

“Will the Franchise tap?! With Danny Williams applying this dangerous hold it could break his arm if he doesn’t give up soon!!”

…

Francis takes one final kick of his leg and raps it in the bottom rope, allowing Soapdish to break the hold!!!

*sigh* “It looks like Francis won’t have to!” mumbles Bobby. “I wanted to see a broken arm!”

“You're just sick…”

Danny quickly breaks the hold and picks Mak up and throws him towards the turnbuckle in a corner whip! Francis smashes into the pad chest first as he had no chance to brace himself due to the suddenness and velocity!! Williams gets his motor revving and sprints forward…

*SMACK!*

Popping his opponent with an enzui-lariat that just MAULS Francis!!!

“Whatta-Enzui-LARIATOOOOOOOO!” comes the call from Bobby as Stevens speaks up.

“A stiff lariat to the back of the neck seems to be the perfect set up for the…”

And indeed Williams is one step ahead of Grand Slam picking the self proclaimed Franchise up for the third time in this match, looking to hit his Dangerous Backdrop!!! But once again Mak’s wherewithal allows him to float over top and roll down Danny’s back!!! Williams immediately reaches under his legs to catch Mak in the schoolboy - but Francis grabs his arm snagging him in a pumphandle!!!!

Williams having no way to counter can only watch as Mak rotates him around snitching in the front face lock…

And quickly drops the pumphandle as he hook’s Danny’s leg…

...

Lifting him up before JUMPING and DUMPING him on his head!!! The ring shakes, the mat quakes and Danny Williams head just when splat courtesy of THE FRANCHISE!!!!

“THE FRANCHISE TAG~!”

Mak rolls over hooking the leg as Soapdish counts…

ONE!

TWO!

T

H

R

E

E!

“The winner of this match by pin fall… “THE FRANCHISE” MAAAK FRAAAAANCISssssss!”

“Well Mak Francis picks up another high profile win, this time over the M7’s Danny Williams!” says Stevens. “And what a big time win it is! We’ll just have to wait and see what this means for him!”

“Another Franchisable counter and great anticipation by Mak.”

“Yup, Mak Francis is 2 and 0 after his Pay Per View loss to Ced and when we come back… more SWF action!”

And with that SWF Smarkdown goes to commercial break!

December 11, 2002

Tuscon, Arizona is the place for SWF action tonight, as Smarkdown beams live from the Tuscon Convention Center, baby! They say a sucker’s born every minute, and by judging at all the “SWF Psych Ward” Shirts... whoever they are are damn right. After seeing an add for Cyclone Comet’s newest starring role in “It Came From France!!!”, we are treated to some rather unique signs, reading:

“WE CAME 2 SEE THUGG! HE’LL WRECK YO SHIT!”

“Why are you watching Raw?”, with a sign next to it reading, “You could be here, where the booking makes sense!!!!”

and

“Pokemania Forever”

And after we see some of those signs, we switch to the announcers table, where we are greeted with the warm loving words of Bobby Riley:

Riley: ASSHOLES!!! FUCKIN’ ASSHOLES!!! STOP PLAYING CREED DURING COMMERCIAL BREAK!!!!

Bobby’s pissed about something as Stevens watches on, scared of the angry Bobby.

Stevens: Bobby, it’s on the soundtrack of “It Came From France”-

Riley: Well, then maybe they should rename it “It Came From My Own Personal Hell”!!!

Stevens: Whatever, Bobby. But regardless, welcome back to SWF Smarkdown! Joined by the one, the only Bobby Riley, I’m “Grand Slam” Mark Stevens, live from Tuscon Arizona! And what an exciting match we have next!

Riley: Exactly, Stevens. It’s Annie Eclectic versus Ash Ketchum in a Hardcore Title Match! Last time these two fought, well, I forget, but Annie’s gonna kick his ass tonight.

Stevens: It’s Michael Craven now, Bobby. Ash Ketchum’s gone for now.

Riley Whatever. Fact is, Ash/Mike/Jobber Boy has NEVER beat Annie Eclectic, and as a matter of fact, he never will.

Stevens: Damn, you’re negative today...

Riley: Face the facts, dumbass. He’s, what, like 0-1000000000 against Annie Eclectic in his career. You might like this son-of-a-bitch, but I hate him.

Stevens: So, what if I like him?

Riley: You’re letting it get to your head. You overrate him too much. I think he sucks.

Stevens: You’ve never seen him as Michael Craven!

Riley: I’ll believe he’s changed when I see it with my own two eyes!!!!

Stevens: Maybe so, but regardless, it looks like it’s time for this match to get underway, so let’s send it off to Funyon...

The lights cut out, the crowd begins to cheer a little. Strobe lights pulse to the beat as Audioslave’s “Cochise” kicks in, smoke spewing from vents in front of the entrance as the drums cue in 24 seconds into the song. This is when the pyro similar to Christian’s entrance begins flowing from the top of the SmarkTron.

Riley: Hmmm... interesting...

A huge pyro blast kicks up from the front of the stage at the guitar drop (about 50 seconds in). Flames simultaneously shoot high up into the air on the edges of the stage not touching the ramp. They shoot up Booker T style into the air in beat with the song following the initial blast, as a red tint covers the stage. Suddenly, as Chris Cornell begins to sing, a spotlight shines down on Mike Craven as he bursts through the smoke cloud in a half-sprint, looking just a tad bit on the intense side. He stops turning to look at the fans, and quickly begins to pound his chest, pump his fist into the air and do other things to pump the crowd up, running all over the stage as the strobes pulse in tempo with the song behind Mike. After doing this for a short amount of time, he turns around, points at the ring as he hops in place like Brock Lesnar’s Happy Dance, and sprints down to the ring like the Ultimate Warrior, slapping hands with as many of the fans as he can. At this time, Mr. Nagasaki appears through the smoke, chasing after Mike.

Funyon: The following contest is a SWF Hardcore Title Match, scheduled for one-fall!!! Introducing first, being accompanied by Mr. Nagasaki, from Tampa, Florida, weighing in at 260 pounds, he is a member of X FORCE NIIIIIIINE... “THE NIGHTMARE” MIIIIIICHAEL CRAAAAAAAAVEN!!!!

Still in full stride, he slides under the bottom rope. Mike then hops up to his feet, turning around and snapping the ropes violently like Brock Lesnar does before he turns back around in a flash. He climbs the turnbuckle closest to the crowd and usually takes off his shirt, whipping it into the first two or three rows of the crowd, giving a lucky fan a souvenir to take home. Mike then lifts both arms into the air with an intense look, hops off the turnbuckle, walks across the ring to another turnbuckle. He climbs this and repeats the arm-lifting, then hops down and awaits Annie Eclecitc as Nagasaki exits the ring.

Riley: Impressive! This man has changed for the better!!!

Stevens: Hmmm... but his dress... the red hair... different color eyes... seems familiar...

Riley: Well... yeah... it is kinda childish... but familiar... I can’t put my finger on it...

Suddenly, "I Get Wet" by Andrew W.K. plays as the lights in the arena dim, a red spotlight shining at the top of the Ramp. Annie Eclectic waits as the synthetic trumpets play, bursting out from backstage at a full run as the thrash guitar takes over. Funyon raises the mic to his lips and proclaims:

Funyon: And from Indianapolis, Indiana, weighing in at 175 pounds, she is a member of THE MIDNIGHT CARNIVAL AND THE SWF HARDCORE CHAMPION... ANNIE ECLECTIC!!!

She enters the ring, quickly hopping onto her feet. Once in the ring, she plays to the crowd as she swings her bokken around above her head. As always, she has her trusty Singapore Cane by her side at all times. She looks confident, but confused. She’s never lost to Ash, or Michael Craven... but then again, she’s never faced Michael Craven before...

Stevens: Any last thoughts on this match?

Riley: Craven impressed me against Sigil, so I think perhaps he might pull off a win tonight. I dobut it, though, actually. Annie is too tough.

Eclectic and Craven stare each other down from opposite sides of the ring as Annie clutches hold of her cane’s handle as she draws it out, but she drops it for a second as Craven chuckles to himself at the sight of the Hardcore Champion.

Stevens: Is Craven laughing at Annie?

Riley: I’d say so. I think it’s more of a confident, laugh, though. He’s got a good feeling he can win, me thinks.

The referee finishes up instructions, and then, he signals to the timekeeper, and...

DING DING DING!

Stevens: Here we go!

Annie goes to place her stick down, but as she does, the artist formerly known as Ash Ketchum attacks, throwing a quick punch into Annie’s face. Eclectic’s head whips back, but she counters, nailing Ash in the head with a jab. Craven staggers back and doesn’t attack immediately, an affect of the concussion he suffered at the PPV, but after a momentary pause, he throws another punch, nailing Annie in the head. Annie, though, hits Craven with a jab, sending him staggering back again, shaking his head for a brief second. Annie takes this opportunity ot grab Mike’s arm, and throwing her weight into it, sends Craven flying to the ropes. Craven hits them and goes flying back at Annie, who awaits Craven. As he is about to hit Annie, she grabs him, lifting him up on the sides and slamming him down, his back and head slamming into the mat from a forceful Irish whip spinebuster! Craven grabs his head and rolls over in pain.

Riley: That’s not good...

Stevens: Looks like Craven’s head is really hurting him there...

Michael Craven slowly recovers from the spinebuster, getting to his feet as Annie waits for him. As he gets to his feet, shw swings her arm around. “BAM!” Right hook to Mike’s face. “BAM!” Followed quickyl by a hard left jab-“BAM!” A strong right jab, followd by a left overhand punch, and Annie E has The Nightmare reeling! He staggers drunkenly, spinning around just in time for Annie to grab him around the head and drop down into a sitting position, in the process executing a perfect snap neckbreaker!!! Annie releases Craven’s head as he falls to the mat, and quickly, Annie covers Mike for the first pinfall of the match!

One!!!

Tw-Craven kicks out! Eclectic sighs as the crowd calls out “WE WANT VIOLENCE KENDO STICKS!” *Boom-boom-boom-boom-boom*. The always crowd-pleasing Annie Eclectic hears her people, and getting t her feet, saunters over to her kendo stick and clutches hold of it, grinning from ear to ear as she lifts in the air to a thunderous pop!

Stevens: Eclectic is just destroying a still-hurt Craven!

Riley: For God’s sake! Get Michael Craven out of the ring! This one could be over!

Craven grabs his head as he gets to his feet, shaking his head in pain as Eclectic raises the cane over her head, swinging it down and smashing into Mike’s head with a large...

“CRACK!” Craven staggers back, a cut on his forehead reopened slightly as Annie lifts the kendo stick over her head again, and...

“CRACK!” Drops it onto Mike’s head, causing him to sping around and collapse onto the second rope, breathing heavily as Nagasaki runs to Craven’s aid.

Stevens: That’s gotta seal the deal!

Riley: Pin him! Let’s get this over with! Craven’s washed up without his Pokemon gimmick!!!!

Nagasaki encourages Craven to get to his feet, and he begins to do so, but as he does, Eclectic swings her cane into Craven’s back with a “CRACK!” Pain stabs at Mike’s back like daggers as he drops back down and screams in pain, but the fans, upon seeing Craven attempt to get up, start a small chant of his name, and if by magic, he begins to get up. Eclectic swings her cane into Craven’s back with another “CRACK!” but this time, he screams in pain but barely drops down, and in fact, rises up even further, standing straight up as Annie swings her cane into Craven’s back for a third time, the resounding “CRACK!” scaring the fans in the arena, but Craven stands his ground as he lets out a scream of pain, turning to face Annie Eclectic. Eclectic swings her cane at Mike again, but Craven ducks, swinging his fist up into Annie’s guy as he delivers a blow to the gut! Eclectic doubles over, grabbing her abdomen as Craven grabs her around the head, grabbing her tights as he lifts her up and slams her to the mat in one fluid motion with a snap suplex! Eclectic drops her kendo stick as she and Craven get to their feet, but as she runs towards Craven hoping to knock him back down, Craven steps forward, throwing his body weight into a forearm smash that flips Annie off her feet, into the air, and forces her to land on her chest! The crowd pops insanely as Craven lets out a barbaric scream as the adrenaline begins to pump through his body!

Stevens: Craven has suddenly come to life, Bobby Riley! He was on the brink of defeat, yet he’s come back strong!

Riley: It’s the fans, stupid. The energy of the fans is being transferred into energy for Craven to wrestle. Simple principle of the Conservation of Energy, my friend. Of course, you would know about the Theory of the Conservation of Energy if you went to college… like me…

Eclectic gets to her feet a bit startled: Where’d this surge of energy come from, and why isn’t he in pain right now? Annie has no time to think as Craven grabs her by the arm and sends her flying across the ring. She hits the ropes, nearly flipping over from the force as she flies back at Craven. Craven ducks down, scooping her across his chest as he spins and drops to the mat, slamming Annie Eclectic hard down onto her back and rib cage with a powerslam! Eclectic screams out as if she had just been injured while Craven remains on top of Annie, leg hooked as he attempts a pinfall!

One!!

Two!! Eclectic kicks out! Annie, though, immediately grabs her ribs after throwing Mike off of her, and Craven looks with some delight. He’s found a weak point.

Stevens: WHAT A POWERSLAM! But only a two-count… and is Annie hurt? Looks like a rib injury, perhaps…

Riley: No, really, dipshit? Her ribs and back have been eternally sore since that Best of Seven series against Tod deKindes!!!! Craven’s just reopened old wounds that Annie happens to have! Smart move!

Craven immediately gets to his feet, and almost instantly, he picks away at Annie’s ribs, delivering stomps to it as fast as he can. Here and there, he quickly drops an elbow into the ribs, Annie screaming loudly in pain like a defenseless doe being torn apart by a savage gray wolf. She tries to protect her ribs by covering them with her arms, but her arms provide no protection against the stomps and elbows of Michael Craven.

Stevens: Annie Eclectic looks like she’s in serious pain! Her Achilles heel may have been uncovered!!!!

As he finishes his assault up with a quick drop of the knee, Annie Eclectic cries in pain, but Craven is not yet done. He quickly pins Annie Eclectic to the mat, the ref dropping to make the count...

One!

Two!

Annie kicks out! Craven jumps to his feet in anger. He screams for a ladder, and in seconds, Mr. Nagasaki is under the ring, procuring a 10-foot tall ladder for The Nightmare, which he slides into the ring. Annie Eclectic begins to get to get to her feet, clutching her ribs and screaming in pain, tears dripping down her soft cheeks as Craven grabs hold of the ladder, slowly hoisting it up into position to smash into Eclectic’s ribs!

Stevens: This could be it!!!!

Riley: I doubt it. Annie is up and it is obvious she’ll escape the blow.

Stevens: Shut up, smart ass.

Riley: Thank you, I am smart.

Eclectic spots this, and quickly, she leaps into the air, thrusting her legs into where Mike’s face should be, hutting the ladder with a dropkick, the Dropkiss! Craven staggers back, hitting the ropes, and he drops the ladder onto the ropes as he falls through them onto the apron. Eclectic lands on her back and slowly begins to get up, staggering back towards the ropes as Craven cluthces at the ropes, pulling himself to his feet.

Stevens: What could Annie Eclectic be planning here?

Riley: Oh, I know! She’s going to run to the ropes, get tangled up in them, and Craven will do the same, so we’ll have a dobule DQ!!!

As Annie hits the ropes and rebounds, she drops down, baseball sliding into the ladder as Craven gets up on the apron. The ladder slides up into the chin of Craven with a “CLANK!”, sending him flying off the apron and into the ring barrier with another “CLANK!”. His body whips back, landing on the concrete as he grabs his head and cries in pain.

Crowd and Stevens: HOLY SHIT!!!

Riley: Shiiiiiit. That looked like it hurt the poor kid. He’s really toughing it out for such a sissy.

Stevens: What a freak coincidence that the ladder would land on the ropes and that Craven would get up next to the ladder!

Riley: That’ll give you a headache! Get this guy some Tylenol!!!

Stevens: That joke was tasteless, Bobby.

Riley: No... you’re just to dumb to understand it.

Annie Eclectic continues to slide, landing outside the ring along side Mike Craven, who lies outside the ring in obvious pain. Eclectic shows no remorse as she slams her boot into Craven’s head before she quickly drops down and pins him, the ref sliding out of the ring to make the count!!!

One!!!

Two!!!

HUGE KICKOUT BY CRAVEN!!!! Annie hears the cheers of the crowd upon Craven’s kick out as they hope The Nightmare can pull it off. Outide the ring, Annie grabs Michael and pulls him to his feet. Quickly, she grabs his arm and whips him, Craven falling and collidiing with the ring steps! “THUD!” The steps fall apart as Craven’s head smacks into them, causing him to cry out in pain again as the crowd cheers while Annie grabs Mike again. She quickly lifts him up, and-“DING!”-slams him into the ring post, causing him to scream out in pain, and-“DING!”-she does it one-“DING!”-more time before she grabs hold of Craven’s arm and whips him towards the steel guard rail.

Stevens: Eclectic working on the head of Michael Craven, which hasn’t recovered from the vicious assault Sigil gave him, but listen to the fans cheering for both of them!!!

Riley: Heh, must be a loser convention in town...

Craven, though, counters, sending Annie slamming chest first into the barrier! She screams out as she nails it, clutching her ribs and collapsing to the ground, but Craven waits for no one. He grabs hold of Annie Eclectic by the back and quickly sprints at the apron, slamming Annie’s ribs into the apron once before he backs up and throws her into the ring, Annie on the verge of tears as she grabs her ribs and rolls in pain in the ring!

Stevens: A see-saw battle here for the SWF Hardcore Championship!!!

Riley: Not really.

Stevens: It’s a metaphor.

Riley: Right.

As Craven slides into the ring, he motions for a steel chair to be handed over to him. Mr. Nagasaki is quick to appease his wrestler, and faster than it seems, he supplies Craven with a steel chair as poor, defenseless Annie Eclectic, with her pretty, pretty eyes, and pretty pretty hair... oops, now I’m sounding like Victoria, gets to her feet. Craven slams the chair into the ground, making a clanking sound with it as Eclectic gets to her feet, and quickly, as she staggers backwards on her feet, Craven charges forward, swinging the chair at Annie Eclectic, and with a “CLANK!”, the Hardcore Queen drops to the mat, and Craven quickly drops on top of her, covering her for a pinfall attempt!

One!!!!

Two!!!

TH-NO!!!! ANNIE KICKS OUT!!!! Craven immeidtaely hops to his feet, electified by the kick out, and quickly, he grabs the steel chair, jamming the back rest of it into Annie’s ribs voraciously, Eclectic screaming out in painwith each jab. Several of these jabs are delivered to Annie Eclectic’s ribs before Craven grabs hold of Eclectic, pulling her to her feet. Quickly, he grabs her in a waistlock and lifts her up, crushing her ribs with a bearhug!!!! The move seems odd for a hardcore match, but as Craven locks the hold in, Annie screaming in pain, Eclectic slowly wraps her arm around Mike’s neck, and then, once it enciricles the neck, she leans back, shifting the two of them backwards into the mat, dropping Craven to the mat with an Inverted DDT... the Annie T!!!!

Stevens: ANNIE T!!!! IT’S OVER!!!!!

Or so it seems, as Craven drops Annie before she can drop him to the mat. Eclectic lands on her back, and as she slowly gets up, Mike slides behind her, locking both arms behind her in a full nelson as he lifts her into the air. Once they reach the apex, Mike pushes down forward and releases the hold, dropping Annie down with great force chest first into the mat!!!!

Stevens: FULL NELSON FRONT SLAM!!!! WHAT A MOVE!!!

Riley: It’s claled the Red Fusion, and it’s knocked Annie onto the mat and flipped her onto her back! Amazing counter!!!

Annie Eclectic lies down on the mat, barely moving as Mr. Nagasaki screams at Michael to use the chair.

Riley: LISTEN TO THE OLD MAN, CRAVEN!!!

The crowd is on their feet, electrified right now as Mike listens to Mr. Nagasaki, grabbing hold of the steel chair in the ring and draping it across Annie’s chest. He then slowly maneuvers around the hurting Eclectic and climbs the turnbuckle, quickly reaching the top of the rope. After a quick glance at Annie, Mike straighterns himself up and hurdles off the top rope, and as he reaches the highest point, Mike tucks his arms and legs close to his body. Right before collision, Mike pulls them outwards for a five-star frog splash onto Eclectic’s chest, causing thousands of camera flashes to off through the arena, but Eclectic rolls out of the way, causing Craven to fly through the air, and slam his head into the steel chair with a “CLANK!”, knocking him down and flipping him onto his back!

Stevens: HE MISSED!!!! HE MISSED!!! I DON’T BELIEVE IT!!!

Riley: Believe it, shitface!!! Both of them are down!!!

Both remain down, motionless as the crowd is split. One half cheers for Annie, the other half for Craven. nothing happens at first, but slowly, they rise to their feet yet again, recovering from each other’s blows. Annie is the first to her feet, barley up for a second as Craven grabs his head in pain. As Eclectic rises to her feet, ribs throbbing in pain, she collapses into a corner, hands grabbing hold of the top rope and supporting her aching body. She whips a quick glance back to Michael Craven, who is slowly recovering, pushing himself to his feet, unable to keep his balance well at the moment. As Annie pulls herself up out of the corner, her hands still clenching the ropes, she stomps her foot into the ground, signaling her next move, a superkick!

Riley: Eclectic signaling for the superkick!

Stevens: Not normally an Annie Eclectic finisher, Bobby. I wonder if she’ll try to end it with this move!

As Craven staggers towards Annie, she jumps out of the corner. Her feet quickly shuffle, followed by the abrupt thrusting of a leg upwards into Craven’s face as she executes a superkick, but Mike bows his head down and barely ducks the blow! Annie Eclectic’s body hops past Michael Craven, and reacting quickly, he grabs Annie from behind, hooking both arms as if for a backslide pin, setting Annie up for a devastating backslide neckbreaker!

Stevens: THIS COULD BE THE C4!

As Craven sets to drop Annie into the finishing move, Eclectic whips her head back, smashing it into Ash’s head with a startling headbutt! Craven releases the hold, grabbing the back of his head and screaming in pain, but Annie plants her hands into Mike’s back and pushes him towards the ropes! Craven hits them, bouncing off them, and as he hits them and turns around, Eclectic swings her leg around, attempting a spinning heel kick! Craven, though, ducks an Annie Eclectic kick AGAIN, and this time, he grabs her from behind, lifting her into the air as if he were executing a Sky High powerbomb from behind. Annie screams out as Craven abruptly slams her chest first into the mat with a reverse Sky High powerbomb!

Stevens: SAKE BOMB FROM MICHAEL CRAVEN!!!

Riley: SHIT! LOOK AT THAT RING SHAKE! THAT WAS HARD!

Annie screams out in pain as her ribs meet canvas, and the sheer force of the move bounces her onto her back, where she lies, clutching her ribs. Craven sits on the mat, breathing heavily, his head throbbing him pain scooping the chair up as he gets to his feet.

Stevens: Craven has Annie Eclectic right where he wants her! It looks like he may be considering his options!

Riley: He needs to do something now before she gets up!

But his mind is already made up. He quickly turns, leaping over the injured body of Anie Eclectic, and in one motion, LEAPS from the canvas to the top rope, holding the across his chest so the chair's legs point towards his feet, seat facing outward, hands on the sides of the chair. Without delay, Craven leaps into the air, flipping backwards as he flies thorugh the air and slams into Annie into a moonsault! The chair slams into Annie’s chest, and with a “CLANK!”/“THUD!” hybrid sound, Craven nails an impressive chairsault as Annie Eclectic screams in pain!

Stevens: CHAIRSAULT! CHAIRSAULT FROM CRAVEN!

Riley: WHAT A MOVE!!!! I CAN’T BELIEVE HE PULLED IT OFF SO FAST!

Stevens: THIS HAS GOTTA BE IT!!!

As Craven lands on Annie, he falls onto his knees. Quickly, he kneels up and throws the chair across the ring. Then, he falls forward, hooking Annie Eclectic’s leg as he pins her to the mat! The ref drops down to make the count as Annie Eclectic panics in in her mind, wanting to kick out, but too weak at this point to do it, perhaps.

One!!!!

She looks for some energy in her body, enough to overcome the engulfing pain that surges through her body and binds her ot the mat...

Two!!!

But she just doesn’t have it right now.

THREEEEE!!!

DING DING DING!!!

The sold-out crowd explodes into cheers while some really hardcore Annie fans boo Craven as he gets to his feet, and Funyon proclaims:

Funyon: The winner of this match and NEW SWF HARDCORE CHAMPION... MICHAEL CRAAAAAAAAAVENNNNNNNNN!!!

Stevens: FOUR-TIME CHAMPION!!! MICHAEL CRAVEN IS A FOUR-TIME CHAMPION!!!!

Riley: And that’s important... why?

Stevens: Because there aren’t that many four-time champions in SWF history!!!!

Riley: Well, I myself am a champion of many women...

Stevens: So, you were the WCW Women’s Champion?

Riley(sarcastically): Oh, Stevens, you crack me up... (mumbling to himself) asshole...

The referee asks for the belt as Mike shows concern. He asks Annie if she’s OK, but she simply tries to smile through the pain and tell him to go enjoy his victory, which he can barely hear over the booming sounds of “Cochise” and the crowd’s cheers. The ref catches his attention of Mike with the Hardcore title, and as M?ike gets to his feet, he is given the title by the ref. Craven nods to the ref before he glances back at Annie as the EMTs rush to her side. Annie gives him a quick nod, and with that, Craven mounts a near-by turnbuckle, hoisting the title over his head in jubilation.

Stevens: WHAT A MATCH! CRAVEN WINS! FOUR TIME CHAMP!!! WHAT A MATCH!!! WHAT A NIGHT!!!

Riley(imitating Stevens): I can only speak in one syllable words!!! GRAND SLAM SMASH!!!!!!

Stevens: You'd be happy if it was Suicide King winning.

Riley: Yes I would.

Craven looks back as the EMTs help Annie to her feet, and he flashes her a quick thumbs up. Annie flashes one back towards him before the EMTs carry her away. The crowd is chanting Craven’s name by now, and he quickly hops off the turnbuckle, going to another and raising the belt up as we fade away to commercial on this night of joy for Michael Craven...

December 11, 2002

“Son of a bitch!”

Frost rounds a corner and heads down another corridor, constantly touching his forehead where he was blasted with a steel chair just a few moments prior. While there doesn’t appear to be any blood, the damage has still been done, mainly to Frost’s ego.

(Riley) – Ooooo…Frost is on a warpath! Goddamn Thugg…see? I was right. He’s just here to cause trouble, and he shouldn’t be allowed in the building.

(Stevens) – Well, Thugg certainly isn’t known for his composer and self-control.

(Frost) – I swear to god…THUGG! Where are you, you fat bastard?!? Come out and fight me like a man!!

Frost comes to the end of the corridor, turns the corner, and is face to face, again, with the HVille Thugg! The crowd roars once more for the large superstar, who registers larger than Frost, a feat far from ordinary in the SWF.

(Riley) – Found him! Kick his ass Frost!

(HVT) – Looking for me again? What? You ready for round two little man?

(Frost) – No cheap shots this time! I’m gonna whoop your ass right now, and get my title shot!

(HVT) – Is that so? Yo cuz…I know you’re new around here…and you don’t really know me like that…but you should check your history books and see what I’ve done around here yo. I crush little shits like you in my fuckin’ sleep.

(Frost) – I know who you are!

(HVT) – Aight yo…then you know what I’m gonna do to you. For real, I ain’t got time for your shit, so I’m gonna give you the chance right now to walk away like it never happened yo…and you don’t have to get embarrassed a second time on national television.

(Frost) – Not how I see it. Actually, I’ll give you the option to just give yourself up, and come with me to see Stubby. You won’t have to go back to that wheelchair.

(HVT) – Hmmmm…lemme thin…

(Frost) – Time’s up!

Frost hurls a huge right hand at Thugg, who alertly blocks the blow, and delivers a stiff right hand to Frost’s jaw, sending the frigid superstar back several steps. Frost stumbles and regains his balance, but before he can throw another punch, Thugg is on him with another hard right hand.

(Stevens) – Holy crap! Frost and Thugg are battling again! This is like a clash of the titans here on Smarkdown!

With Frost off balance, a third bunch knocks the big man onto his rear, leaving him prone for Thugg to mount the icy giant and begin to jar his skull with more punches. Frost decides it best to cover up, probably because he knows what’s about to happen.

(Stevens) – OH! Son of a…It’s the Magnificent Seven!

Suddenly, Thugg is literally tackled to the ground by Tom Flesher and Danny Williams!

(Stevens) – The cavalry has arrived! Tom Flesher…Danny Williams…Ced Ordonez…Judge Mental!!

(Riley) – And that’s why Thugg’s washed up and Frost is the new breed! He planned this all along!

Thugg attempts to fight off the numbers, delivering a hard right to knock Williams off, and a quick boot to get rid of Flesher. Ced Ordonez grabs Thugg by the left arm while newest member, Judge Mental latches onto Thugg’s right arm. However, Thugg and his assailants are rather close to the wall, enabling Thugg to throw his arms backwards, slamming Ced and Judge into the wall!

(Stevens) – He’s fighting them off! He hasn’t lost a step! It’s a 5 on 1, and Thugg is taking it to them!

Flesher is on all fours, attempting to rise to his feet, but Thugg is quick to drive a boot right into this abdomen, sending the M7 leader rolling against the wall. HVT sees Danny Williams gathering himself, and quickly slaps on a one handed choke hold, sending the crowd into a crazed frenzy.

(Stevens) – Untamed!! Thugg is single-handedly destroying the Magnificent 7!

HVT says something that doesn’t really translate into English, but as he goes to lift Williams…

WHAM!!

…he is laid out by a wicked chairshot from Frost!!!

(Riley) – OH!! Frost! What a shot!!

Thugg is sent flying back, but as quickly as he hits the floor, the former SWF champion tries to rise to his feet…only to be drilled with a second chair shot!

(Riley) – And that’ll just about do it.

Thugg lies motionless on his back, sprawled in the middle of the hallway. Frost, breathing heavy, tosses the chair aside and stares at the gigantic black man.

(Frost) – Bitch!

Meanwhile, his M7 buddies are all gathering themselves, none hurt, but a little tired from wrestling with a 400 pound beast. Tom Flesher walks over to Frost, who is still hovering over the down Thugg…

(Flesher) – Go get Stubby…

(Frost) – Huh?

(Flesher) – Stubby! Go get him…for your title shot, remember?

(Frost) – Oh…right…

Frost, suddenly remembering his alterior motive, sets off in search of Stubby, leaving his M7 compadres behind. Meanwhile, Flesher gives Thugg a little nudge wit his foot…

(Flesher) – Big oaf. Hey, make sure he doesn’t move! I must grace these great fans with some my superior presence.

Leaving this three M7 mates behind, Flesher jogs off to quickly get to the on deck circle before his match begings…

(Stevens) – I just can’t believe what I’m seeing. It seems as though Thugg, barring some kind of miracle, is going to be caught by Stubby.

(Riley) – And don’t forget, Frost will get a title shot against El Luchadore Magnifico because he caught Thugg.

(Stevens) – Well, yeah…definitely. Damn though…I mean…It was all damn trap, set up by the Magnificent Seven!

(Riley) – A brilliant trap!

(Stevens) – Maybe…well, we’ll sort all this out and let you know what happens. In the meantime, let’s get set for our main event!

December 11, 2002

After a commercial for Gevalia coffee featuring the one, the only, THE Tom Flesher ("This coffee provides a fine flavor, light finish and superb misting effect."), the camera fades in on the Tucson Convention Center in Tucson, Arizona. It pans across the crowd, catching film of fans holding signs such as "Tatsudoshi is SO 2000," "Turn Out The Lightbringer, The Party's Over" and "Flesher = King's Road Apples." Finally, it swings over to the SmarkTron, with a Triangle Match graphic. On the top point, a photo of Orochi with the ICTV Title appears, and on the two bottom points appear photos of Tom Flesher and Nathaniel Kibagami. Across the bottom, the words "ELIMINATION MATCH... OROCHI VS. FLESHER VS. KIBAGAMI... NON-TITLE." scroll, and the fans cheer as the camera swings over to the announce table. There, "Grand Slam" Mark Stevens and Bobby Riley sit in their usual seats, Mark with his pile of notes in front of him, Bobby reading a copy of Maxim.

Stevens cranes his neck over, and then shrugs. "Bobby, I didn't have you pegged as the type to read that magazine."

"Oh no?" Riley continues snidely, "Well, why would you say THAT, oh great one?"

"Oh, just the emphasis on nearly-naked, barely-legal girls."

"Hmm? What? Oh, I just read this thing for the fashion section near the end."

Stevens quickly looks over Riley's attire- a ratty, beat-up black sport jacket and a wrinkly white shirt, along with a plaid tie. "You... read the fashion section?"

"Well, sure. These photo spreads are amazing."

Stevens rolls his eyes. "I should have known."

Riley cocks an eyebrow. "What?"

"Oh, never mind. Ladies and gentlemen, welcome back to SWF Smarkdown for December 9, 2002. As we near the end of the year, we've had lots of exciting developments, including the bounty on the HVille Thugg and the uneasy alliance between Tom Flesher and Nathaniel Kibagami."

"Uneasy alliance? Mark, these two may have big egos, but you have to understand that this isn't just any alliance. This is going to be a tryout for the Magnificent Seven! We're going to see Kibagami in the Mag-7! This is amazing!"

"We'll see what happens with this so-called 'tryout.' You seem to be forgetting, Bobby, that the ICTV Champion, Orochi, is also in this three-way elimination match. What effect do you see him having on the final result?"

"Orochi's dangerous as hell, Mark. To top that off, he's obviously not quite right in the head. You can't predict what he's going to do. All you can say is that someone's going to get hurt in the process."

"Well said, Bobby. Now, let's go to Funyon!"

Funyon announces, "Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is an elimination match, and it is your MAIN EVENT!" The fans cheer as the lights dim for a moment before being supplanted by a deep red glow. The guitar rhythm starts to scratch over the speakers, followed by the rap lyrics of Crazy Town's "Decorated." A cloud of fog rolls out from behind the curtain as the chorus begins...

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.

A red pyro explosion goes off at ringside and the top of the ramp, and Nathaniel Kibagami and Angel step out through the curtains. Kibagami purposefully strides down to ringside, ignoring the screaming crowd, and then slides in underneath the bottom rope. Angel assumes her position at ringside near the Spanish announce table (manned tonight by SWF road agent KJ Sanchez) as Kibagami jumps onto the second turnbuckle. He extends his arms in the crucifix pose as the lights come up.

"Currently in the ring, hailing from Phoenix, Arizona, and weighing in at 242 pounds... NATHANNNNNNNNIEL KIBIGAAAAAAAAAAMIIIIIIIIIII!!!!!!!"

Kibagami jumps down, acknowledging the fans briefly with a nod, as the lights dim again. The SmarkTron flashes totally white, as the words "SUPERIORITY COMPLEX" and "MAGNIFICENT SEVEN" fade in on it. Then, with an explosion of blue pyro, "Kashmir" begins to blast out over the sound system. Through the cloud of smoke, Tom Flesher emerges, with his Tag Team Title belt slung over his shoulder. He pauses for a moment for a reaction from the crowd, gets mostly boos, and then begins to stride to the ring. The SmarkTron alternates half-second clips of his signature moves with the phrases "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. At 50 seconds in, the symphonic hook blares over the system, accompanied by machine-gun blasts of blue and white pyro from each corner. The music fades, and Flesher looks expectantly at Funyon.

"Now in the ring, from Buffalo, New York and weighing in at 213 pounds... The man who has no time for all the theatrics and bull that the rest of the wrestlers are so concerned about, the man who is bravely blazing a trail down the King's Road... he is the BEST worker in the SWF today, he is THE SUPERIOR ONE, TOM FLESHER!"

Flesher golf-claps for himself, then strips off his warmup suit. He sets his Tag Team belt on top of it, then relaxes in the corner to wait for the third man in.

As opposed to the arena going completely dark, it is bathed in blinding white light as “Hikari” by Hikaru Utada starts to play.

Don'na tokidatte

Tatta hitori de

Unmei wasurete

Ikitekita no ni

Totsuzen no hikari no naka, megasameru

Mayonaka ni

The light gradually fades, revealing Orochi, his arms open to recieve the crowd’s love. Though they’re probably booing the shit out of him. He climbs to the ring, and steps through the ropes, a sick grin plastered across his face, in stark contrast to the melodic music. He puts the ICTV belt in his corner, then looks expectantly at referee Wayne Edkin, who signals for the bell.

DING DING DING!!!!!

The three step to the center of the ring, each man looking expectantly at the other two. Flesher points at Kibagami, followed by a quick slap of the hands. Flesher steps back away as Nathaniel Kibagami and Orochi square off to face each other.

"What an exciting opening to this match," says Mark Stevens. "As you may recall, we found out right after Genesis III that these two men are half-brothers, but..."

Orochi unloads a knife-edge chop across Kibagami's chest, sening a "SMACK" echoing through the Tucson Civic Center and coaxing a "WHOO!" from the fans.

"But you certainly wouldn't know it by watching the way they treat each other," Stevens finishes.

Kibagami tries to ignore the pain and answers back with a chop of his own.

SMACK! (WHOO!)

The two continue trading chops across the chest, alternating the strikes, and getting a louder reaction from the fans with each knife-edge. Finally, Orochi nails a particularly hard chop and lands it high, slamming full-force into the side of Kibagami's neck! Nathaniel Kibagami, caught by surprise, grimaces and grabs his persistently bad neck. Orochi smiles disturbingly, then raises his hand into the air to signal for another attack to the neck. He gets interrupted, however, when Tom Flesher bounces off the ropes and charges at him, nailing him in the temple with a Yakuza kick! Orochi collapses to the mat, and Flesher dives onto him for

ONE!

but no more, as Orochi manages to kick out fairly easily. He rolls away, but Flesher grabs him by the arm and extends it into a seated armbar. He slides over and gets behind Orochi, planting his knee into the Lightbringer's back. With that, he grabs Orochi's other arm and extends it, locking on a classic surfboard. He extends both of Orochi's arms, driving his knee into his opponent's back, and looks up at Wayne Edkin. Edkin asks Orochi if he wants to submit, but instead of answering, the Lightbringer simply plants his feet and strains his muscles against the mat. Feeling the pressure, Flesher backs off slightly, inadvertently giving Orochi space to move. He pushes once more, fighting through the strain on his back, and eventually stands all the way up! Flesher, still standing behind him, attempts to step in closer in order to maximize the pressure on Orochi's back, but Orochi instead bridges back slightly to change the leverage. Orochi fights to reverse the hold, struggling to turn all the way around and end up behind Flesher. Flesher fights back, but with a quick burst of strength, Orochi is able to twist all the way around and get behind Flesher in the surfboard position! The fans begin booing loudly as Orochi smirks and tries to bend both of Flesher's arms backwards so far that they snap off. He stays in position for a few moments, trying to break Flesher, but after a few seconds, Flesher arches backward and begins to turn. Orochi resists, but Flesher struggles, and manages to re-reverse the hold and once again get behind his opponent! Flesher continues to spin through, locking up in position for an Unprettier! This draws a solid pop from the crowd.

"And Flesher's in position for his usual last-resort hold, the Unprettier! He wants to get Orochi out of the picture early!"

"Of course he does," says Riley. "Orochi is really, really creepy."

Flesher prepares to kick his legs out and slam Orochi's head into the mat, but before he can, the Lightbringer lets his arms go limp and wriggles away from the hold. Flesher, caught by surprise, spins around, but Orochi is two steps ahead of him and meets him with a solid chop across the chest!

SMACK! (WHOO!)

Flesher grits his teeth, trying his best to ignore the pain caused by the strike, and answers back with a solid palm strike to Orochi's face. Orochi stumbles backwards slightly, and Flesher follows up with another stiff palm blow. With his opponent staggered, the Superior One grabs his wrist and whips him to the ropes. Orochi rebounds, and Tom attempts to catch him for a railgun suplex... but Orochi leaps into the air a half-step early and nails Flesher in the chest with a running knee! Flesher falls backwards onto the ropes, and Orochi follows up with a running lariat that sends Tom tumbling to the outside! The Lightbringer grabs the top rope and holds on, managing to stay in the ring as Flesher lands on his feet on the concrete.

"Orochi sends Tom Flesher to the outside," notes Stevens, "and that leaves him alone in the ring with Nathaniel Kibagami. Even this early in the match, Orochi is handling what's essentially a two-on-one handicap match well."

"Well, sure he is," snorts Riley. "He hasn't taken any big moves yet, but you wait until Flesher HITS the Unprettier, or Kibagami nails his Burning Lariat."

Orochi turns around, right into the waiting, intimidating Nathaniel Kibagami. Kibagami, trying to keep the pressure on Orochi with Flesher out of the picture for the time being, grabs Orochi's arm. The Lightbringer resists, but Kibagami opens him up by wrenching the arm and nailing two quick kicks to the ribs. Orochi favours his ribs for a moment, giving the man formerly known as Silent time to spin around and whip Orochi over his shoulder with an ippon seionage. Kibagami holds onto the arm, at first looking for a pumphandle armbar. Instead, though, he opts to simply kick Orochi in the ribs again. He swings out to the front, and then nails a solid kick to the face that sends Orochi snapping back to the mat. Nathaniel dives onto him, and Edkin counts

ONE!

NO! Orochi kicks out, and rolls to his stomach. Kibagami grabs the Lightbringer's left arm, then leans back. Orochi, seeing the jujigatame coming, immediately clasps his hands together to keep his opponent from extending it and securing the cross armbreaker. Orochi keeps his hands clasped together as Kibagami wrenches the arm, trying to get him to break his grip and allow him to cinch the deadly submission. For lack of any better technique, the Lightbringer rolls to his stomach, then starts to work to his feet. Out of position, Kibagami decides at the last minute to abandon the cross armbreaker, but keeps Orochi's left arm. With a quick turn, he wraps the arm around his leg, then does a forward roll, taking Orochi to his back with a Magistral cradle! The fans pop as Wayne Edkin counts

ONE!

TWO!

KICKOUT! Orochi leaps up, mad as hell at the two consecutive near-falls, and shows his displeasure by unloading a kick to the face of Nathaniel Kibagami! Kibagami staggers backward, stunned by the impact of the move. Orochi steps forward to capitalize on his attack, following up with another stiff kick to the face. With his opponent neutralized, Orochi steps in and whips him to the ropes. As Nathaniel bounces off, Flesher looks in from the outside and realizes that his partner needs assistance. He slides in under the bottom rope just as Orochi drops to the mat and catches Kibagami with a drop toehold. The Lightbringerthen spins out to Kibagami's head and locks on a front chancery. Before he can lift Nathaniel up for his floatover snap suplex, though, Tom Flesher interjects himself via a diving headbutt to Orochi's back! The fans pop appropriately for Orochi getting cut off once again as Flesher takes hold of the left arm once again.

"Now that's just not fair!" objects Bobby Riley. "This so-called elimination match is just a glorified two-on-one assault on the ICTV Champion!"

"Bobby, I'm very surprised to hear you say that."

"Why? All I want is for Flesher to take both of these swine out so he can come over to my room tonight and celebrate."

"You promised to stop trying to drug him, Bobby."

"Uh... I haven't the faintest idea what you're talking about."

"Oh, don't play dumb. We had to get a special rider for our insurance policy because of you."

Flesher wrenches Orochi's arm, yanking him to his feet. With a quick pivot, he sends the former leader of the Clan to the ropes. On the rebound, Orochi tries to slow down, but Flesher catches him. Despite a valiant effort on Orochi's part to sandbag, Flesher is able to arch his back and pop his hips hard enough to send him flying through the air with a Railgun suplex! Flesher starts to roll onto Orochi for the pin, but before he does, he sees Kibagami jump into the air. Tom rolls out of the way just in time for the master of the Demonstar Driver to connect with a flying elbow drop! The crowd cheers, as does Angel, and Wayne Edkin drops to the mat to count

ONE!

TWO!

KICKOUT! Orochi breaks the pin, to the dismay of the hot crowd. Kibagami looks at Flesher, sneers and shouts, "I'll handle this one!" He grabs Orochi by the neck and yanks him to his feet, then hooks his thigh and arches back, throwing Orochi to the mat with an...

"EXPLODAH~!" shouts Mark Stevens. "Nathaniel Kibagami, looking to impress or maybe just one-up Tom Flesher with a high-angle throw of his own, but... Oh my!"

Mark Stevens lets out a well-deserved exclamation of surprise as Flesher takes the opportunity to one-up Kibagami the same way, stealing his cover by bouncing off the ropes and leaping into the air. Dutifully, Nathaniel rolls out of the way, giving Flesher plenty of room to hit his cannonball senton!

"FATASS SENTON~!" shouts Stevens.

"Hey!" interjects Riley indignantly. "Don't talk that way about Flesher! He may be a fireplug, but...."

"Oh, relax. It's just the name of the move."

"Suuuuure," says Riley. "You're just trying to make him look bad."

"No, Bobby, being built like a rhinoceros makes him look bad. Those sideburns make him look bad. No, I just call the moves."

Flesher rolls over and covers Orochi for

ONE!

TWO!

THREE- NO!!!!! Orochi gets his shoulder up at the last possible second, and Tom Flesher looks up at Kibagami. Nathaniel nods as Flesher grabs Orochi's left arm. Kibagami grabs the right arm, and together, they lean back, then whip the Lightbringer into the corner. Flesher starts in, but Nathaniel blocks him off and takes charge. He runs in, stuttering a few feet early and diving into a somersault, then nailing his adversary with a rolling koppo kick! Kibagami politely rolls out of the way as Flesher follows him in with a stiff Yakuza kick that nearly takes Orochi's head off! Kibagami tries to fight his way into the corner, but Flesher mouths the word "Tatsudoshi" at him. The former Silent One nods and runs over to the adjacent corner as Flesher hoists Orochi onto the top rope. Flesher climbs to the second rope, and Orochi begins fighting back as best he can by throwing chops at Flesher's chest. Flesher responds with a shotei... then another... and one final stiff strike to calm his opponent down. With that, Flesher climbs to the top rope, locks on a front chancery, then tightens his grip and lifts Orochi nearly vertical. He stands on the top rope, then with a hard pop of his hips leaps off and sends Orochi crashing headfirst to the mat in the avalanche-style brainbuster known as the Boilermaker! This gets a loud pop from the crowd, but Flesher rolls out of the way immediately. Without delay, Nathaniel Kibagami leaps off the top rop, nailing his Tatsudoshi corkscrew 450 splash! On impact, Kibagami grabs his ribs and rolls away, showing the effects of the impact. Flesher picks up his slack, though, and dives onto Orochi for

ONE!

TWO!

THREE!!!!!!!!

DING DING DING!!!!!

"Ladies and gentlemen," says Funyon, "Orochi has been eliminated!"

The Lightbringer rolls out of the ring, and Flesher stands patiently in the center, waiting for Kibagami to get into a fighting stance.

"Orochi put up a valiant effort," says Stevens, "but he just couldn't stand up to Tom Flesher AND Nathaniel Kibagami both throwing everything they have at him."

"They sure kept the pressure on," adds Riley. "But now it's time for Kibagami's tryout! Let's see how he holds up against Flesher!"

Kibagami gets to his feet, and the two workers look each other in the eye. Flesher extends his hand, and immediately the crowd begins to boo and shout at Nathaniel not to accept it. Even Angel joins in, and Kibagami hesitates for a moment. He looks around to the crowd, to Flesher, to Angel and then back to his opponent. After a delay of a few seconds, Kibagami extends his hand, and Flesher shakes it firmly. This draws a round of applause from the crowd, and the two wrestlers begin to circle each other.

"Definitely a show of mutual respect," says Stevens. "These two are going to fight to the finish, and they're going to do it fairly."

"Don't trust him, Tom!" shouts Riley, completely oblivious to Stevens' obviously correct analysis. "You can't trust a Japanese guy! They're too inscrutable!"

Flesher lowers his level, then shoots in on Kibagami's left leg. He cinches the ankle, attempting to pull it in for a low single leg takedown. Kibagami tries to resist, but Flesher gains control of the ankle. Before he can stand up and use it to take his adversary down, though, Flesher finds himself caught off-guard by Kibagami's ability to think two steps ahead. Kibagami hooks between Flesher's legs, plants his feet and arches back, throwing Tom overhead in a cradle suplex variant! He releases Flesher on the downswing, and Tom rolls through, looking up at Kibagami with an air of insult.

"Classic Judo-style counter to a low single leg," notes Stevens, "and it looks like Flesher is a bit put off by Kibagami countering him with a throw."

"Well, how would YOU like it if, say, Zenon started using the Seventh Inning Stretch?"

"Bobby, sometimes you say things that really make me think."

"Why, thank you, Mark. I appreciate it."

Flesher and Kibagami square off once again, this time with Flesher looking even more determined. He drops down once again, this time vaulting forward with a double leg takedown. This catches Nathaniel by surprise, and he goes to his back out of shock more than anything else. Flesher keeps both legs and fights to turn his rival over onto his stomach with a Boston crab. Kibagami fights it, and eventually Flesher drops the right leg and simply concentrates on torquing the left. With a hard step-over, he manages to force his opponent onto his stomach. Flesher takes a few steps toward the center of the ring, then spins out while still scissoring the leg. He falls forward, seguing the half crab into a stepover toehold, and then locks up a crossface!

"Tom Flesher gets the STF locked up on Nathaniel Kibigami, and this one could be over right now!"

"Woohoo! Come on, Flesher!"

Kibigami strains, trying to pull himself toward the ropes. After a moment, he realizes that he isn't close enough to the edge to work toward the ropes, and instead turns his attention to Flesher's crossface.

"Kibigami is working on the facelock portion of the STF for two reasons, Bobby."

"Because he's ugly, and-"

"Shut UP, Bobby. Obviously, he's trying to escape the hold, but keep in ming, he also has a bad neck. I hope we don't need to remind the viewers about his neck injury."

"You mean at Genesis?"

"No, that was just when he reaggravated it."

"Come on, Mark, these people can barely sit and watch a seven-minute cartoon without a pee break."

"Fair enough. I don't really care to talk about this, but for the benefit of our viewers, Edwin MacPhisto, years ago, broke Nathaniel Kibagami's neck with the Demonstar Driver, and it hasn't been the same since."

"Ah, was that so hard?"

"Don't make me slap you."

Kibagami manages to get a grip on each of Flesher's hands, then starts to twist them apart. He manages to break the clasp, but then has to struggle to move them far enough away that Flesher can't relock his hands. Flesher and Kibagami struggle back and forth for a few moments, Tom fighting to regain his grip, Nathaniel doing his best to keep the hands apart. Finally, after nearly a full minute of fighting back and forth, the former Silent One manages to pull Flesher's hands completely apart and plant them on the mat! This provokes a large round of applause from the crowd, and especially from the excited Angel. With the facelock broken, he simply kicks his leg hard to free it from the stepover toehold, and tightens his grip on Flesher's left arm.

Kibagami sits out, keeping his lock on Flesher's arm, and jerks his shoulder violently upward. Flesher tries to recoil, obviously in pain, but Nathaniel maintains his death grip around the wrist. Flesher, on his knees behind his seated opponent, tries again to pull his arm back from its position hanging over Kibagami's shoulder, but Kibagami feels the escape coming. Instead of allowing it, he swings out, rolls to the side and takes Flesher to his stomach, ending up on top with a hammerlock! Flesher, in turn, sits out, spins, and comes up back on top with a hammerlock of his own! He releases it, though, as he mounts Kibagami's back and tries to thread his arm under his opponent's neck.

"Could Flesher be looking for the Superior Stretch Beta?" asks Stevens rhetorically.

"Well, duh," snorts Riley. "He could be trying to go for his inescapable submission hold that coincidentally works his opponent's historically bad neck... or maybe he's trying to reach down and grab his tit. Good call, Grand Piano."

Kibagami feels the Beta coming and reaches up to block Flesher from locking on the dragon sleeper. After blocking it for a second, Kibagami reaches up with both hands and clasps them behind Flesher's head. He bucks his hips up, setting Flesher off-balance and at the same time jerking his hands down, forcing Flesher to flip forward onto his back! He lets Flesher sit up, then locks his hands around his waist. Kibagami stands up, and Flesher feels the suplex coming. He sandbags, trying to hug the mat to avoid being thrown, and wraps his body around his opponent's leg. Kibagami strains to get Flesher off the mat, but the Superior One continues resisting. Finally, with a loud kiai, Nathaniel Kibagami uses his brute strength to pull Flesher into the air, arch backwards and dump him straight onto his head with a Dangerous German suplex!

"Oh my GOD!" shouts Mark Stevens. "Did you SEE that?!"

"Jesus, he just dropped him on his neck and rolled him through! That's enough to take ANYBODY out!"

Kibagami rolls onto Flesher, looking slightly unsatisfied. Wayne Edkin counts

ONE!

TWO!

THR- NO! Flesher gets a shoulder up!

"Look at the look on Nathaniel Kibagami's face, Bobby. He knew that he wasn't going to get the pin off of that, but he just needed to try anyway. He's trying anything he can to put Tom Flesher off his game and come out with the win."

He lifts Flesher to his feet, spinning the Superior One around in an attempt for another back suplex. Instead of a German, though, he ducks his head under and lifts Flesher aloft for a Murderous Backdrop! The fans start to cheer as Kibagami stalls with Flesher in the air... but Flesher shifts his weight and does a backward roll, ending up on his feet behind his opponent! The crowd lets out a collective, disappointed "Ohhhhhhh" as Flesher strikes Kibagami stiffly in the back of the head, then ducks down and picks his ankle out from under him. Kibagami goes spilling to the floor, much to Angel's disappointment, and Flesher stays on him like ugly on an ape. Despite the close proximity to the ropes, Flesher decides to attempt a last-ditch hold, and waits a beat for his opponent to come to a sit-out position. As soon as Kibagami does sit out, Flesher steps his left leg around his body, extends Kibagami's left arm and forcefully applies a dragon sleeper, completing the Stretch Plum lock!

"Held Without Bail! Tom Flesher has Nathaniel Kibagami in Judge Mental's Held Without Bail submission hold! We've seen the Magnificent Seven sharing submission holds before, and this is easily the most effective hold against Kibagami!"

"Christ, Mark, look at the way Tom's wrenching Kibagami's neck!"

"Will Nathaniel Kibagami tap out?!"

Kibagami struggles, trying to peel off the dragon sleeper. He fails, and in desperation flails his free right arm. Out of sheer luck, his hand brushes against the ropes, and he immediately takes hold of the middle strand. Referee Wayne Edkin admonishes Flesher to break the hold, which he does dutifully. He backs toward the center, and Nathaniel Kibagami follows, after taking a moment to rub his neck. Sensing an opening, Flesher steps toward him, locking his hands around him in an attempt at a Railgun suplex. Kibagami feels it coming and steps back to break Flesher's lock, then shoves him away passively. Obviously concerned about his neck, Nathaniel backs away, but Flesher continues trying to step forward and throw him. Out of sheer desperation, Kibagami shoves Flesher backward, then jumps up and nails him with a gamengiri! Flesher staggers backwards, nearly falling to the mat. With his opponent stunned, Kibagami smells blood.

"And Nathaniel Kibagami is about to put this one away!" shouts Mark Stevens. "Can this one get any more exciting?!"

"Only if Flesher was wearing a thong!"

Stevens says nothing for a moment, then mumbles, "Jesus, what ever happened to Curry?"

Kibagami looks down at his left arm, and then flexes it ever so slightly. "You can see the fire burning in his eyes!" says Stevens. "He's ready to take Flesher out and earn his respect!" Kibagami focuses on Flesher, flexes once more, and unloads, charging at him for the Burning Lariat!

Flesher ducks!

Avoiding the blow, Flesher spins around and plants a stiff kick into Kibagami's kidneys, then grabs the still-outstretched arm. With a swift inside trip, he takes the former Clan member to his back, then re-extends the left arm. Quickly, with a well-practiced motion, he bars the left arm and locks his legs in a scissors grip around Kibagami's shoulder and neck!

"TRIANGLE CHOKE! Flesher has the triangle choke locked up! Can Kibagami's neck take it?"

Kibagami looks around, sees that he's nowhere near the ropes, and quickly taps the mat three times.

TAP

TAP!

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

As soon as he hears the bell, Flesher releases the triangle choke. He gets to his feet first, and as Kibagami rubs his neck and tries to crack it, Flesher offers him a hand up. Kibagami willingly accepts, and the two workers shake hands in another show of mutual respect.

"Your winner," says Funyon, "by submission, The Superior One, Tom Flesher!!!!!"

"Pfffft. What a pussy," groans Bobby Riley.

"Bobby, Nathaniel Kibagami tapped out because he was caught in the center of the ring in an extremely dangerous hold. Flesher showed that, tonight, he had the edge on the mat, and Kibagami was man enough to tap out and fight another day. I guarantee you, both men came out of that with a newfound respect for the other, and the next time they meet, you won't see a quick tap like that."

"Yeah? Well..." Riley stammers. "Uh... he's still a pussy."

"And there we have it, folks. Tom Flesher picks up a submission victory, and Bobby Riley is an idiot! We'll see you next time on Smarkdown!"

December 11, 2002

“He’s right down here.”

“He better be. And let me tell you something Frost…don’t ever wake me from a post high nap ever again.”

Frost bounces down the hallway in front of a less than enthused Stubby McWeed, as Frost leads the commissioner to the scene of the crime.

(Frost) – He’s right around this corner…

Stubby and Frost turn the corner, and then Frost’s jaw nearly touches the floor. The scene before them is that of complete carnage!

(Stevens) – HOLY CRAP!

(Riley) – What happened to everyone?

In the hallway lay the entire Magnificent Seven (minus Tom Flesher and Frost, of course), battered and bruised, as if they were just in a huge battle. Frost, speechless, glances at Stubby, then back at the wreckage, back at Stubby, then back to the lying M7.

(Frost) – He was here! I swear!! He was right here!

Frost walks around his friends, who seem to be coming to somewhat…

(Frost) – He was right over here!!

(Stubby) – Sure he was…is this some kind of joke?

Stubby begins to move amongst the carnage, investigating the scene…

(Frost) – I left him right here…DAMMIT!

As Stubby walks, perturbed both by being woke from his nap and being made to think Frost had delivered Thugg, something crunches under his feet. Upon investigation, the crunching sound was made by a piece of broken glass that is, now revealed, all over the floor. As Frost goes to help his M7 allies, Stubby reaches down and picks up a large piece of glass that happens to have a label on it. Flipping the glass, Stubby stares at the label, which reads…”Corona”. Stubby’s face goes immediately tense, and only one word escapes his lips as Smarkdown goes off the air…

“Magnifico.”

December 11, 2002

US TITLE TRIPLE THREAT #1 CONTENDER’S MATCH

Ced Ordonez vs. CIA vs. Frost

- Frost froze the competition in it's tracks. Get it? Froze? Aren't I clever?

SINGLES MATCH

Sigil vs. Judge Mental

- The new guy gets the win!

NON-TITLE SINGLES MATCH

Danny Williams vs. Mak Francis

- Francis gets a win over the champ in this non-title match.

HARDCORE TITLE MATCH

- Your winner, and million time hardcore champion...Micheal Craven!

NON-TITLE 3-WAY ELIMINATION MATCH

Orochi vs. Tom Flesher vs. Nathaniel Kibagami

- That Fleshy guy wins...

SWF Smarkdown (Dec. 10/2002)

Recommended Posts

Guest BA_Baracus

Share this post

Link to post

Share on other sites

Guest BA_Baracus

Share this post

Link to post

Share on other sites

Guest BA_Baracus

Share this post

Link to post

Share on other sites

Guest BA_Baracus

Share this post

Link to post

Share on other sites

Guest BA_Baracus

Share this post

Link to post

Share on other sites

Guest BA_Baracus

Share this post

Link to post

Share on other sites

Guest BA_Baracus

Share this post

Link to post

Share on other sites

Guest BA_Baracus

Share this post

Link to post

Share on other sites

Guest BA_Baracus

Share this post

Link to post

Share on other sites

Guest BA_Baracus

Share this post

Link to post

Share on other sites

Guest BA_Baracus

Share this post

Link to post

Share on other sites

Guest BA_Baracus

Share this post

Link to post

Share on other sites

Browse

Activity