SWF Storm!

January 9, 2003

The cheers of about 50-75 fans ring loud and true on the brisk Wednesday afternoon in Columbus, Ohio. The familiar phrase, “Earlier Today” tattoos itself on the screen at the bottom left corner, while the dedicated fans on hand cheer loudly for each SWF superstar as they arrive on this their first day back from vacation. Tod deKindes’s arrival is the first to be shown, and the fans on hand give him a very decent pop. An enormous roar is unloaded upon the SWF Champion, El Luchadore Magnifico, as he steps out of his limousine and into the fan’s embrace.

Several more superstars arrive, each met with different level of appreciation from the fans, until one final limousine cruises up to the talent entrance. This gold and chrome, stretch, Cadillac limousine can only belong to one person, Damien McKinney, otherwise known as, The HVille Thugg. Thugg steps out of the automobile to an ovation nearly as large as the man himself, throws his large duffel over his shoulder, and heads towards the door. As Thugg passes through the crowd of uber SWF marks, slapping hands with some and ignoring others, he is approached from behind by the SWF’s beat reporter, Ben Hardy.

“Thugg, Thugg…”, Hardy gasps, seemingly out of breath. Thugg turns around, reluctantly willing to give Hardy the interview for which he must have run a long way.

(Hardy) – Thugg.

(HVT) – Yo…what up?

(Hardy) – Mind if I have a few words before you head inside?

(HVT) – Yeah, sure. But make it fast, I gotta go find Stubby and make sure he’s not going to fake on our arrangement.

(Hardy) – Well Thugg, that’s kind of what I want to talk to you about.

(HVT) – Uh huh…

(Hardy) – You’ve heard the rumors floating around, right?

(HVT) – Rumors? What rumors?

(Hardy) – Oh…you didn’t hear?

(HVT) – Obviously not you brain moron. What the hell you talkin’ about?

(Hardy) – Well…ummm…yeah…ok…ummm…

(HVT) – What the hell is wrong with you…spit it out dumbass.

(Hardy) – Well…there was this rumor going around since the holidays. I just assumed you knew…

(HVT) – First of all, BEN…never assume anything. It makes you look stupid…well…it’s too late for that, but…Secondly…if you don’t stop bojanglin’ and tell me what the fuck you’re talkin’ about, I’m gonna put my foot so far up your ass, you’re gonna need…

A sort of awed silence falls over the crowd, forcing Thugg to stop mid-insult and turn to see what is going on behind him. Across the crowd from him sits another limousine, this one your traditional black stretch. The driver walks quickly around the cab, opens the door, and out steps The Suicide King. Thugg stands firm with an annoyed look on his face as King walks towards him and the entrance with his briefcase swinging along side him. The fans seem to be unsure whether to cheer, boo, or trip the deputy commissioner, but regardless, Thugg is certainly not very happy to see the Gambling Man. To make matters worse, as King passes Thugg, he gives the big man a light tap on the cheek like a master would do his apprentice. Thugg grimaces from the sentiment, but does not attack King like the world would like him to. Instead, he turns his attention back to Ben Hardy, who is still watching King enter the building.

(HVT) – Ben…

(Hardy) – Oh…sorry. Where was I?

(HVT) – I was just about to beat you within an inch of your sorry little life…

(Hardy) – Oh…yes. The rumors…

(HVT) – Yes, the rumors.

(Hardy) – Well, you see…ummm…now, you should know that this is just a rumor. It may not be true…so, don’t be mad at me either way.

(HVT) – Out with it!

Thugg grabs Hardy by the collar and lifts him off the ground…

(Hardy) – stubbysgone!

Hardy’s words come in such great haste that Thugg is forced to put the tiny man down to allow him to speak more clearly.

(HVT) – I’m sorry…what?

(Hardy) – The rumor is that Stubby’s gone. From what I’ve heard, he’s been missing since right after your match at Hold’s Down Christmas.

(HVT) – Uh huh…and?

(Hardy) – And? And what? That’s it.

(HVT) – That’s it? That’s what you’ve been wastin’ my time to tell me? Ok, so Stubby left after my match instead of staying for the main event…so what? I’m sure dat bitch had to prepare himself for a very humbling experience tonight.

(Hardy) – I don’t know Thugg…the crew backstage said that he looked very upset when he left and he had two rather large bags with him. There’s a lot of buzz backstage already tonight that Stubby may not be coming back…

(HVT) – You know what…I ain’t even gonna trip off dat, cuz for real, I know Stubby. Me and him have been through a lot together, and I know him. He may be a huge fuckin’ asshole and a bitch ass nigga…but ain’t no way he doesn’t show up tonight. He made a deal, and he ain’t the type to not make good on his end.

(Hardy) – Maybe. I hope you’re right Thugg, but the only word I’m getting is that he left at the PPV with a good deal of luggage, and no one has heard from him since.

(HVT) – Whatever Hardy…you’re full of shit. I’m out…holla.

With that, Thugg turns and enters the arena through the same door that King used just moments prior just before the scene fades out and…

BOOM!

The brand new pyro signals the beginning of a new year in the SWF and the start of SWF Storm. The tens of thousands of fans scream, cheer, and hold up their signs as the camera pans the arena during the Storm theme.

“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to a brand new year of the Smartmarks Wrestling Federation, and to another edition of SWF Storm! We’re live from the Nationwide Arena in Columbus, Ohio, and what a night we have in store for you tonight! Coming off of SWF Holds Down Christmas, we’ve got plenty to talk about and plenty of unresolved issues, and plenty of hard hitting SWF action!”

The camera settles in on the announce table, which houses the all-star announce team that looks as excited as ever about the new year.

(Stevens) – Alongside my partner Bobby Riley, I’m the Heavy Hitter, “Grand Slam” Mark Stevens. Are you ready for the new year Bobby?

(Riley) – Damn straight I am. I just hope the new year brings me something to cheer about, because Holds Down Christmas sure didn’t…

(Stevens) – Like a one Mr. Timberlake says…cry me a river. Anyway, what Bobby is referring to is the huge title match between Tom Flesher and El Luchadore Magnifico just two weeks ago…a match that saw Magnifico retain his world title and come ever closer to the once thought untouchable record of 156 days with the world title, currently held by the HVille Thugg.

(Riley) – Didn’t he beat you to get that record?

(Stevens) – Shut up…speaking of Thugg, what we just saw was footage shot earlier today. But more importantly are the rumors that Hardy talked about. Conversation has been abundant backstage about what is going on with management and with the commissioner’s office, but the truth still is a blur. I guess we’ll all just have to wait and see what happens tonight to find out if there’s any truth to these rumors. Let’s have a look at the card…

The Card

RINGING IN THE NEW YEAR #1 CONTENDERS MATCH

Judge Mental vs. Alex Zenon

- Two winners at Christmas time collide in an odd specialty match! The winner will be named #1 contender to the Hardcore Gamers Title currently held by Michael Craven… but it looks like getting there will be no picnic!

Match Description – Standard Hardcore rules, which is to say none. However, the only way to win is by grabbing the can of spray paint hanging from a pole in one corner and painting the numbers “2003” on your opponent’s back or front.

SINGLES MATCH

Nathaniel Kibagami vs. Tod deKindes

- Nathaniel’s ICTV bid didn’t go quite as planned, to say the least. He will surely get a rematch at some point due to the odd ending, but for now we’ve got to keep him on his toes… and who better to help him with that than the Sole Survivor of XF9?

TAG MATCH

Mak Francis and Ced Ordonez vs. Xero and Michael Craven

- In an effort to jump start the tag division, CC took four names at random and made some tag teams, in the vain hope that some chemistry might happen! Here’s hoping!

NON-TITLE FOUR CORNERS MATCH

ELM vs Tom Flesher vs Danny Williams vs Annie Eclectic

- Well, let’s face it. Everyone here is looking for a little revenge, for one reason or another. There are still some unresolved issues here… Two champs, two stables, two friends, two enemies… what happens when two friends end up in the ring? I’m curious… What will Flesher and ELM do after their masterpiece of masochism at the PPV? And can Annie E get some measure of justice from Danny before he faces his next challenger to the belt?

NON-TITLE NO HOLDS BARRED MATCH

Orochi © vs. Frost

- The new commish is very unhappy with the finish of the ICTV Title match at the last PPV of the year. Time to hand out lessons. No holds barred should be just the thing, and may serve as an indicator of things to come from hoss Frost. Will Nathaniel Kibagami show up? Or might the Mag 7 appear? Or perhaps even odder outside interference…

January 9, 2003

Ben Hardy fades onto the screen with one Annie Eclectic beside him, warming up for her match later in the show...

Hardy: Annie, you've asked to say a few words before the show commences, and we'd all like to hear what it is you have to say.

Annie: *straightening up from her stretches* Well, it's quite simple. I got a full plate tonight, but that doesn't mean I'm not seeing what's going on in the rest of the card. I know the first match is Alex Zenon versus Judge Mental... *bends over to touch toes*

Hardy: ... and?

Annie: *straightens up* Well, I have a small problem with that, don't you see? I'm the Queen of Hardcore, and while I'm not saying I should be in that match, I am saying that Judge Mental -shouldn't-.

Hardy: Why do you say that?

Annie: He isn't hardcore! There's nothing about him that even remotely whispers hardcore! Zenon's proven himself in the field, we've talked, I've seen him work. It's not exactly his thing but Alex can hold himself high and be hardcore when he needs to. Judge, however, is not. I wish Alex all the luck in the world tonight and I hope he beats Judge and goes on to face Craven, another person whose proven his hardcore nature. But if Judge Mental wins, be forewarned... *bends over again*

Ben Hardy sighs and stands with microphone at ready for her eventual return. Annie straightens up only to take another stretch as Ben fails to follow the microphone to her mouth. Eclectic bends back up and Hardy attempts to get her to finish her statement only for her to do a quick couple of side bends. A few audible chuckles are heard from the audience as Hardy becomes impatient.

Hardy: ... what should he be warned about?

Annie: *straightening up* Who?

Hardy: JUDGE MENTAL!!!

Annie: Whoa! No need to shout, my good man! Keep your blood pressure low. All I'm saying is that if Judge lucks out and wins, he'll have to face a hardcore lesson from Michael Craven. If he lucks out -again-... he'll get a refresher course, from Annie E!

Annie takes her cue to look straight into the camera, projecting her next statement right to Judge Mental...

Annie: That isn't a threat, Mr. Mental. That isn't a promise. THAT... my friend... is a DECREE!

...

Annie and Audience: FROM THE HARD! CORE! QUEEN!

Annie grabs the microphone and spikes it at Ben Hardy's feet, forcing the announcer to scurry off camera and try to locate it from the mess of wires and pipes nearby....

January 9, 2003

…. And we come back to a brand new year and the very first SWF Storm of 2003! The camera gives a nice panoramic shot of the Nationwide Center, full of eager Columbus fans waiting for the first match of the New Year. A quick cut and we go down to the announcer’s table, where a not-so-new announcing team stands by for the first match.

“Hello! This is ‘Grand Slam’ Mark Stevens, welcoming all the Smarks Wrestling fans to another year of fantastic wrestling…”, says the always amiable former Carnie, “How was your vacation, Riley?” The smaller man turns to him in shock.

“We had a vacation?! I’ve been waiting here for three weeks when I could have been doing…”

“Doing what?”

“I just realized I had nothing else to do. Wow.” Before that sad realization has any time to set in, Grand Slam smartly changes the subject.

“Anyways, our first match is between Alex Zenon and Judge Mental. Alex has been pretty good since his return, while Judge Mental really has yet to find his groove in the SWF after ending a great run in the SJL.”

“Pfft. If you mean ‘crap’ by pretty good, then you’re right. Z or Zenon or whatever he calls himself now is just horrible. He’s stuck himself with that shadow of a stable and has been stuck in nowhere since he came back. Now the Judge…”

“Has been stuck in nowhere and stuck in a shadow of a stable since he was bumped.”

“Shut up, Grand Slam.”

“Not a chance, Bobbie.” As Riley gives an angry “Humph” at Grand Slam’s remark, Funyon steps up into the ring and begins bellowing into his microphone.

“The following is the #1 Contender Match for the Hardcore Gamers Title! The only way to win the match is to take the can of spray paint off the pole in the corner of the ring-” -Funyon points to the pole- “- and paint the numbers ‘2003’ on the back or front of your opponent. There are no other rules in the match. Our first wrestler…”

The lights of the Nationwide Center dim down as the sound of electrical distortion hovers in the air. Drums begin to set in, beating rhythmically like a heartbeat, and two white lights appear on cue, blinking on and if in sync with the drumbeat…

BAM! The guitar drops in, and the lights come on in a multicolor spectrum as spotlights begin to race across the crowd. From the rainbow-lighted stage out steps the wrestler formerly known and universally loved as Z, and the crowd gives him a nice pop, though a few boos can be heard from some of the die-hard Z fans.

“Weighing in at 229 pounds and hailing from the Meadowlands... a member and former leader of the Midnight Carnival….. ALEX ZENON!!”

Zenon looks out from the stage and gives a little, self-pleased smirk as he surveys the crowd and begins walking down the ramp. The camera cuts to the upper-mezzanine as the lyrics set in, and lights begin to flick erratically across the crowd. The camera is suddenly wiped out by the blinding flash of a passing light… and refocuses with a cut to the ring, as Alex climbs up onto it and stands on first and second turnbuckles, absorbing the crowd… finally, he discards his jacket to an attendant, and hops into the ring.

“Our second wrestler…”

The lights turn a deep red as a faint but steady drumbeat begins to float into the arena, quieting the Columbus crowd. The drums build in intensity with a slow crescendo, coming closer and closer to the top until…

“NOW TESTIFY!”

BOOMBOOMBOOM!

Three rows of red pyros shoot sky high as Rage Against the Machine’s “Testify” continues on in mid song, and a dignified figure in black robes steps into view, getting numerous boos and jeers.

“Weighing in at 242 pounds and hailing from Royal Oak, Michigan…. A Former JL World Champion and a Member of the Magnificent 7….. All rise for JUDGE MENTAL!!”

The Judge immediately starts his concise quickstep down the ramp like he always does, ignoring the familiar negative crowd reaction that he always gets. He deftly slips out of his judicial robe and hands it to ‘coat rack’ attendant and steps into the ring across from Zed. He gives a look at Zed and immediately goes over to the ref.

“Why does he get to wear his shirt? If I start painting it, he can just take it off and start off totally new!” He pleads with the ref, and the ref shakes his head.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t do anything about it. I mean, there are no rules. I’m just out here to signal the bell when I see the numbers.”

“Oh, come on! This is such a blatant attempt at cheating…” Mental says, going on and on how this is an unfair fight while Alex looks at him in disbelief that he would whine about something like this. He comes over to the two men.

“Hey, what’s the hold up? Just ring the bell.” And Mental shoots him an angry look.

“Be quiet, you. I know you, trying to cheat by wearing that shirt-”

“That’s what this is about? Jesus, alright…” Alex says, wanting to get this damn thing over with. He begins lift his shirt over the head….

*WHACK*

“OOOOH!”

The crowd winces in pain as the Judge nails the Carnie with a kick right to the groin, sending a stunned Zenon right to his knees.

*DING DING DING*

“I can’t believe it! Of all the dirty, low down tricks-”

“-Mental picked the best one of all! To bad the shirt is covering his face right now, ‘cause I wanted to see his eyes bulge from that Galatea Special.”

As Zenon struggles to his feet, discarding the shirt on the ground, Mental begins to climb up the turnbuckle and reach up the pole for the paint can. The ringside fans let their opinions be known as they yell a few obscenities at the old man, and for the first time in a while he actually reacts to them.

“Didn’t you here the ring announcer, plebian? He said ‘No rules’…” He shouts back, momentarily more concern with the crowd than the match, “It’s his fault he-” but he stops as two hands grab his ankles.

Oops.

The still slightly nauseous Zed pulls the Magnificent 7 member’s feet right off the turnbuckle, causing Judge Mental’s upper body to fall straight down. Mental’s head impacts on the turnbuckle, and the old man clutches his face as Zed holds his tenderized Gonads for a few more moments.

“Well, what goes around comes around, and the Judge learned that the quick and hard way.”

“Bah! Doesn’t mean a thing. I’m surprised he could target something as small as Zenon’s package.”

“Of course, you know because you were staring at it…”

“Hey, that was for research purposes ONLY!”

After a few more moments of echoing pain, Zenon begins to move towards the turnbuckle, but Mental begins to rise slowly to block his path. He sends a knife-edged chop Alex’s way, but Zenon blocks it with is forearm and gives him a spinning kick to his back, causing him to stumble away from the turnbuckle. The Carnie begins to ascend up the post, but he isn’t able to get high enough as the Judge is able to grab him before he gets the can of spray paint. Pulling Alex down, he slams him right back into the turnbuckle and gives him a knife-edged chop. The few Magnificent 7 fans out there do the good ole’ Flair tradition, but the rest do something a little more appropriate…

*SMACK*

“Whoo!” “BOO!”

*SMACK*

“Whoo!” “BOO!

*SMACK*

“Whoo!” “BOO!

With that final smack, the Judge pulls Zenon out of the turnbuckle, and with a disgusted look, tosses him over the ropes…

… but Alex wraps his arms to the top of Mental’s head as he goes down, snapping the Magnificent 7 member’s head off the ropes and landing on his feet outside the ring! The crowd pops big as Zenon begins to search under the ring while the Judge back peddles from the Guillotine Neck Drop.

“Great awareness by Alex there! He’s really showing why he makes such a great Carnie.”

Zenon continues his rummaging under the ring, tossing out a trash can, throwing a steel chair in, and finally his eyes light up when he finds what he needs…

… A ladder. He brings it up and begins to slide it into the ring, not noticing the charging Judge. The older man slides near the ring edge, delivering a baseball slide drop kick to the ladder and sending Zed staggering into the guardrail.

“Yeah, Grand Slam, great awareness. Zenon wouldn’t notice a Mack Truck running over his ass.”

The Judge rolls out of the ring and onto the concrete, where Alex begins to recover from a ladder to the face. Mental rips the ladder out Zenon’s hands and tosses it aside, and he gives him a knife-edged chop right across the chest. Alex takes a few steps back, but as Mental delivers another chop, he grabs it with his right hand and twists it around, forcing the Judge to bend over with a wristlock! He pulls the captive M7 member over to the apron, where he jumps up and walks a few steps before giving Judge Mental a big elbow to the back of the head! The Judge goes straight to the ground clutching the back of his neck while Alex goes back to the discarded ladder and slides it into the ring.

“A nice variation of his normal rope walk allows Alex to floor Mental and take back control of the match. It looks like he’s gonna use the ladder to get high enough to reach the top of the pole, Bobbie.”

“I don’t understand why he would need the ladder, but if it means we get to see Zenon falling off a ladder, I’m all for it.”

Zenon walks the ladder over to the turnbuckle and sets it up as best he can parallel to the pole, but he notices Judge Mental sliding into the ring out of the corner of his eye. Mental slides in, and quickly notices the chair Alex threw in. He picks it up and begins rushing at Zenon, who takes the quickest route out of dodge and slides out of the ring. The Judge follows suit, and soon they are in a vicious chase around the ring.

“Heh,” Riley laughs as Zenon rounds the corner towards the announcer’s table, “Looks like Zenon’s on the run from his problems again, but this time they’re gonna catch him!”

Just as Zenon begins running down the straightaway, a little of the old Z filters through and he trips and falls to the ground beside the announcer’s table. Many in the crowd gasp as the Judge catches up with the chair in hand.

“Where you gonna go now, Zenon?” Says a confident Bobbie Riley as Alex crawls backwards next to the ambiguously gay heel announcer. The Judge gives a condescending scoff as he raises up his chair for a massive blow, and Zenon reaches out with his right hand….

*CLANG!*

“BOBBIE! BOBBIE! Are you alright, Bobbie?!” says a frantic Grand Slam.

Yes, Zenon pulled Riley right in front of the blow, and Mental watches with a surprised look on his face as the heel commentator slowly falls to the ground with an idiotic smile on his face. The Judge keeps looking at the fallen Bobbie Riley as he lies on the ground, too stunned to notice Alex’s leg…..

*THWACK!*

… coming up right into his crotch. The Judge gasps for air as he falls to the ground holding his family jewels and Alex makes a break for the spray paint.

“Well…” Grand Slam says, trying to hold back a grin as his compatriot begins to show signs of life again, “I can’t say that I’m sad that that happened…” The downed man hears it, and is able to croak out, “Grand Slam… at this moment… I hate you and the Carnival… more than I ever did before.”

The younger Alex slides into the ring and run towards the ladder as the Judge begins to get up and take baby steps towards the apron. He begins his ascent towards the black can of spray paint slowly, and he tries his first reach at the thing. He stretches out to the tips of his fingers, but no dice. He climbs higher up the ladder, making sure to keep an eye out for Mental. He’s getting in the ring but still moving a little slow from the last kick. With that, Alex stops climbing and reaches again. He’s close enough that his fingers brush up against the can, causing the crowd to give a big swell, but he isn’t able to get a grip on it.

*CLANG*

“Ouch. That chair shot looked almost as bad as yours, Bobbie…” Says Mark to the still reeling Bobbie Riley, and the smaller heel commentator is able to push himself off the ground with his arms. “Just shut up, Grand Slam. Damn Zenon….”

Zenon goes nearly limp, but still hangs on the ladder, and the Judge winds up for another shot…

*CLANG*

… And the Carnie loses his grip and slides down the ladder. The Judge looks down at him for a moment before starting his climb, giving a distasteful snort of his nostrils at the fallen Zenon. He begins his climbing up, and stops about midway up the ladder to reach for the spray can. The Judge reaches out… no, it’s to far, and almost to far for the ladder as well. The Judge begins to lose his balance, and the crowd begins to swell again as he might fall to the outside…

… But the old man is barely able to keep his balance. He goes a little higher and reaches again, stretching his arm….. almost… just about…… Yes! He has it! The Judge holds the can up high for all to see, an evil grin across his face. The grin quickly fades and a look of alarm replaces it as a newly risen Alex Zenon is able to maneuver in and put Judge Mental in for a….

*WHAM*

“Powerbomb! Powerbomb off the ladder!” Yells Grand Slam as the crowd goes absolutely bonkers. The can of paint tumbles out of the Judge’s hands and to the outside as begins to slowly get back up.

“Now if Alex can only capitalize on the moment!”

“Not likely, Grand Slam,” Says Riley, now rubbing his forehead, “That was a last ditch maneuver there. Those chair shots were bad.”

“Yes, I’m sure you noted that while you were lying on the ground over there…”

“SHUT UP! When that happens to you, I’m gonna laugh so hard…”

Alex finally gets his wits about him and he rolls out to the concrete as the Judge is left trying to get back up again. He looks around the ground, trying to find where it rolled off to. He searches on the ground for a few more moments, and finally he finds the can next to the steel steps. He grabs the thing quickly and slides into the ring, where the Judge is almost to his feet. Zenon gives him a stiff chop, knocking him backwards but not felling the Judge. He gives another, but the Judge instinctively dodges it and gives Zenon a stiff punch to the face, which causes Zenon to drop the can! The crowd gives a big collective gasp, and as Alex turns around to see the can roll away, Mental quickly grapevines his leg and grabs the back of Zenon’s neck. He quickly pulls his foot forward, slamming the back of Alex’s head to the ground.

“Russian Leg Sweep! Hell yeah! Bash his head in for me!” Says the aggravated Riley as the Judge slowly rises up from the ground and begins to walk towards the can of spray paint. He slowly stumbles a bit, the effects of that Powerbomb still making his head hurt, but he gets within a few steps of the thing before Zenon grabs him by his wrist from behind. He pulls the Judge into a reverse headlock and the crowd gives a healthy cheer as Zenon lays his elbow right down on the chest of Judge Mental for the Turn and Burn!

“Turn and Burn! Turn and Burn! Mental is on the ground and Zenon has got the Spray Paint! It’s over!”

Alex quickly removes the cap and gives it a healthy shake before spraying it on the mat once to see how well it works. It leaves a nice black streak on the ring, and Zenon begins to go over to the Judge with it. He rolls him onto his back and begins, with the crowd saying along….

2….. “TWOOOOO!!!”

0….. “ZEROOOOO!!!”

0-He gets about half-way through with it before the Judge is able to grab the can and try to pull it away, but Alex hold’s his grip tight and tries to complete the number.

0- But again, the Judge is able to pull it away, smearing it a little. This time, the Judge is able to wrench it away from Zenon’s grip and he tries to roll away from upright Alex, but the Carnie doesn’t let him get away, as he tries to wrench it back from Mental’s grip. The Judge turns to face Alex as they both grip the can and try to wrest it from the other….

*Shhhhhh*

“AHHH! Damn it!”

Alex lets go of the can, holding his eyes as a black streak shows across his eyes. He holds his hands against his face as the Judge begins to get up with the spray can.

”He got Alex in the eyes! He’s blind out there!”

“And it’s all legal, Stevens! Hardcore rules, remember?”

Zenon presses against his eyes, walking around without being able to see at all…

…but he does feel the arm of the Judge wrap around his head.

*BAM*

“Surprise Witness! Surprise Witness!”

Judge Mental nails him with a Diamond Cutter, flooring Zenon right then and there. After that, it’s academic as the Judge quickly scrawls on Alex’s back “2003” quickly and rushes out of the ring, not wanting to stick around for any Carnie interference.

“The winner….. Judge Mental!”

The crowd boos vigorously as the older man swiftly travels up the entrance ramp and the EMTs begin to wash out Alex’s eyes with an emergency kit.

“Well, that was a horrid ending to the match.” Says Grand Slam, watching as the EMTs help Alex out.

“But is was an ending none the less.” Responds a bruised but smiling Riley.

“I guess so. Anyways, stay tuned for Tod DeKindes vs. Nathan Kibagami up next!”

*FADE TO COMMERCIAL*

January 9, 2003

Backstage at the Nationwide Arena, HVT walks purposefully through the halls, his eyes constantly scanning the areas he passes. Twenty-five minutes have passed and still no sign of Stubby, but Thugg is determined to find the commissioner and his SWF contract. Thugg rounds a corner and sees the head of SWF security, Jim Phelps.

(HVT) – Jim!

Jim turns around to see the large 7’2” black man walking over, but having made friends with Thugg long ago, Jim isn’t worried much.

(Jim) – Hey Thugg…how’s it going?

(HVT) – I’m chillin man…look, I ain’t really got time to catch up wit you. I need to know where Stubby is? You seen him?

(Jim) – Sorry, can’t say that I have. I’ve heard all the rumors though…

(HVT) – Yeah…whatever. Aight…thanks. I’ll holla lata…

(Jim) – Yep…

HVT turns and continues down the hall, and when he turns the next corner, he sees King talking to a heavy-set female about halfway down the corridor.

(HVT) - KING!

HVT heads towards the Gambling Man with a determined look on his face. King spots him as he gets closer, and quickly ends his conversation.

(King) – Ok Melissa, I’ll find out for you and get back to you.

The woman nods and exits down the hall just as Thugg steps up to King…

(King) – Thugg…good to see you. I’ve been meaning to talk to you.

(HVT) – Where is he?

(King) – Where is who?

(HVT) – Don’t play dumb with me…Stubby. Where is Stubby?

(King) – Oh…right. Well, rest easy big man, everything will be explained later.

(HVT) – There’s nothing to explain yo…where is he?

(King) – Come now Thugg, there’s no need to get upset. Trust me, when the time is right, everything will be worked out. You’ll just have to wait…

(HVT) – Wait? No…I ain’t waitin’ for shit. I know that son of a bitch is here, and he’s just scared. He owes me a contract. We had an agreement, and now it’s time to pay up.

(King) – That’s all well and good, but we’ve got a lot going on back here, so you’ll just have to wait for a little while.

(HVT) – Fuck you King…I told you, I ain’t waitin’ for shit. Check this out…after this next match, I’m going out to the ring. You tell that bitch to meet me out there yo…

Thugg turns to leave, but King’s hand on his shoulder stops the big man in his tracks…

(King) – Wait a second Thugg.

(HVT) – Goddammit, what?!? If you can’t help me, then I have no use for you…

(King) – Ok, but before you go, there is something I wanted to talk to you about.

(HVT) – Unless you’re about to tell me where Stubby is, I ain’t tryin’ to hear that shit.

King’s pause is all the answer Thugg needs, and he turns to leave again. He gets a few feet away when King calls out to him once more…

(King) – What happened to you man? Are you that much of a punk now?

HVT stops in his tracks once more, turns back, and walks back up to King…

(HVT) – What did you just say?

(King) – I’m sorry…maybe you couldn’t hear me. I called you a punk.

HVT stands there annoyed, waiting for clarification.

(King) – Yeah…that’s right, I said it. I don’t know what happened to you, but you have turned into this walking pussy. What happened to the old Thugg? What happened to the Thugg that would kick ass and ask questions later? What happened to the Thugg that didn’t care about the fans, his friends, or even his family? What happened to that man, or did they brainwash you at that hospital too?

(HVT) – What the hell are you talkin’ about yo? Ain’t shit changed.

(King) – Oh come on Thugg…everything’s changed. I watched you agains Bayawolf two weeks ago…and I can honestly say that you weren’t the same guy I remember battling with all those months ago.

(HVT) – Did I win the match?

(King) Yeah, you did…and that’s my point. First of all, you let me get away with any and everything, where the old Thugg wouldn’t have hesitated to…wreck my shit, is it? You’re all concerned with contracts and careers and fans and money and all that stuff…how can you even call yourself the HVille Thugg anymore? You should just change your name to Damien, and stop lying to yourself. You’re a pussy now…just a really tall bitch.

(HVT) – Whatever yo…I ain’t got time for this shit.

(King) – Of course not…you gotta get your contract. What a load of shit. You are a scared little bitch now. I remember there was a time when everyone was scared of you. Hell, no one wanted to even be in the same building as you cause there was no telling when you might just go off and fuck someone up. But now…everyone wants a piece of the HVille Thugg. Nobody’s scared. Everyone back here is looking to get a piece of you to make a name for themselves…

(HVT) – Well, tell them to bring it. No matter what you say, I can still wreck everybody in this fed, and you know it.

(King) – You see…that’s it. I don’t know it…in fact, I’m pretty sure you couldn’t even take out Kivell. You’re walking around here, slapping hands with the fans, signing autographs, kissing babies…what the hell is wrong with you? I have to say, as part of management, you are of little use to me or the SWF if you don’t have that edge. If you’re not going to be wrecking everyone’s shit, then all you are is a tall black bitch who’d be better off playin ball in da hood or whatever.

(HVT) – Watch your mouth yo…

(King) – Watch my mouth? Are you kidding me? This is a prime example of what I’m talking about. The old Thugg would have tried to beat me down 10 minutes ago…but for some reason, you’re sitting here telling me to watch my mouth? Come on Thugg…you and I have been through a lot, and I know you’re better than this man. Let that madman loose again…

(HVT) – Yo, if you don’t shut the hell up, I just might…

(King) – Good…that’s exactly what I want. You know what…nevermind…I can’t even talk to you anymore. We need to see the old Thugg here in the SWF…not this career-driven, contract-signing, fan-friendly homosexual. I’m surprised your mother even claims you…

Something clicks in HVT, and he leaps at King, slamming him against the wall and holding him up by his throat.

(HVT) – Yo, you besta back the fuck off King…fo’ I gotta straight blast you son.

(King) – ACK! Yeah…now that’s what the fuck I’m talking about…COUGH…come on Thugg! Blast me! WHEEZE! Wreck my shit! You can do it…

HVT prepares to drive his fist into King’s face, but for some reason, he thinks twice about it and sets the deputy commish down.

(HVT) – Whatever yo…you ain’t even worth it.

(King) – Yeah…just like I thought.

HVT turns and starts to walk away, this time, letting nothing deter him.

(King) – You’re just sad Thugg…very sad. I don’t know what happened to you, but you are nothing now, and I promise you that you’ll go no where around here being a punk. Come back and see me when the real HVille Thugg shows up.

HVT raises a single finger to King as he walks away, and as he turns the corner, King whispers…

“That’s just too bad. Too bad, indeed.”

King turns and heads down the hall in the other direction…

January 9, 2003

**As we're back to action, the dulcet tones of Bobby Riley and Mark Stevens welcome us back to the show.**

Riley: What in the hell kind of sick actions have we just witnessed, Slammer ?!

Stevens: THAT my friend, was our number one contender's match for the Hardcore Gamers title. Still got the spray paint fumes wheezing in there, buddy?

Riley: Shut up.

Stevens: That was some solid action we've just seen but before we move on, I'd like to remind you that SWF Storm is brought to you by Budweiser Lite! (the logo casually whooshes by on the screen, with a crowd shot serving as background) With a great taste that won't fill you up and never let you down, drink a Bud Lite!

Riley: And by Castrol Motor Oil! (logo again) Drive Hard!

Stevens: And by Frost Brand Cigars! (logo still) Put THAT in your lungs and smoke it!

…

**With the shilling out of the way, we switch over to the ring where Funyon and referee Billy Chioda stand.**

Funyon: Ladies and gentlemen, SWF Storm continues with the following one on one contest …

**Like the sound of an orgasming grandma, the crowd groans as they hear the opening riffs of Static X's "Cold", signaling the arrival of one man only. The lights begin to flicker and morph into a rave like transe as the XF9 logo forms itself onto the Smarktron. Out from behind the curtains and clad in his shiny swank black trench coat, steps the proud Canadian to a sizable amount of boos, as he Boo Yourselfs them right back. With his traditional confident stride down the ramp, Tod takes a moment to antagonize a lone ringside fan (and taking the time to hit on his girlfriend as well).**

Funyon: First; from Toronto, Ontario, Canada; weighing in at 225 lbs … He is the Sole Surviving Member Of X Force Nine And The Man Who SHOULD Be Number One Contender For The ICTV Title, the US Title, Hell; Anything That's Leather And Gold In This Company… Tod - deeeeeeeeee - Kin - deeeeeeeesssss !!

Riley: Wow, Funyon actually makes a GOOD point! You go, boy!

Stevens: Tod makes him read those, folks.

**After almost successfully giving the aforementionned girl his hotel room number, Tod slides under the bottom rope and into the ring, where he immediately runs up to a second turnbuckle and proceeds with his usual pose of thumbing his chest and throwing his two balled up fists in the air in a sign of anticipated victory. Tod steps down from his perch of contempt and ill-intent as he throws his trench coat off of himself. He paces around the ring, while his music slowly fades into a silence and as the lighting treatment returns to normal.**

Riley: Let me tell you, Slammer. I proclaim 2003 to be the Year Of Tod! This man, MY BOY, has been denied success for TOO long now and the end of 2002 was a SHAM for him!! Need I remind you of the people that he's beaten!

Stevens: Please don't.

…

Funyon: And his opponent …

**As the opening notes of Crazy Town's "Decorated" fire up from the speakers, the lights turn to a deep shade of red. The song fully kicks in, as billowing smoke starts to emerge from beneath the curtains, the former Silent one steps out from the back, with his girl in tow.**

Funyon: From Phoenix, Arizona and weighing in at 245 lbs. Accompanied by Angel, he is: Nathaniel - Kibaaaaaaaaa - gamiiiiiiii !!

**With sudden bursts of red pyrotechnics punctuating their presence, Nat and Angel walk down the ramp side by side. Just as Nat rolls under the bottom rope for ring entry, Angel makes a left and heads over towards the Spanish announcing contingent, taking her place near the ring steps and cheering on her companion.**

Stevens: At our last pay per view, we saw that young lady take a bit of a beating at the hands of Orochi, in what was a bit of an inconclusive ICTV title match, Bobby.

Riley: Yeah, no kidding. Angel got it, all right. But she's still here tonight at Nathaniel's side … What a loon!

Stevens: (just as Nathaniel's music was fading away) … Well nonetheless, it looks as if your buddy Tod deKindes has something to say.

Riley: Ah, sweet!

**Indeed, as Tod is now standing almost in the center of the ring and with a microphone in hand. The crowd, in the mood for some wrestling, lets Tod have it with another round of boos.**

Tod: … (tapping the thing to make sure it works, creating an irritating two seconds of sound feedback) … Thank you!! … So, here we are, the year 2003 … Here we are, SWF Storm, the first show of the new year … and here I am, facing Nathaniel Kibagami … who I believe is THE SORRIEST excuse for a LOSER that I've ever witnessed in ALL MY LIFE!! (this obviously gets Nat's attention, but he somehow manages to keep his cool) This guy couldn't even win the ICTV title and now I am STUCK facing him tonight in a match that means NOTHING!! *I* should be the one facing Chacchi for that title and NOT the guy who can't even come CLOSE to the damn thing, and that, EVERYBODY knows it!! ONCE AGAIN, this company has seen it fit to give me the shaft as they continue to give me NO respect at all!! And furthermore, it's been brought to my attention that -- *oof!*

**That last sound is Nat running forward at the unexpecting Tod and BLASTING him in the head with a nasty gamengiri, shutting up the canadian grappler for good.**

Riley: Now that is just plain RUDE!

Stevens: These guys are not paid by the hour, Bobby!

**As Billy Chioda tosses the dropped mic back to its owner, he orders for the opening bell to be rung, just as Nat starts opening up on Tod with a series of rapid fire right hands to the side of the head. As if he were his own plaything, Nat brings Tod back up to his feet and Irish whips him into the ropes with ease. Still a bit aware, Tod has the know-it-all to duck under a clothesline and a back elbow attempt. On the third bounce, Nat backs up towards the ropes as he catches Tod into somewhat of a bearhug. Without much concern for his opponent, Nathaniel lifts up the 225 lbs canadian mass and TOSSES him over the ropes with a high overhead belly to belly suplex!!**

Stevens: WHOA, lookit that move!!

Riley: What the hell?! That was an ATTEMPT on Tod's life!!!

**As the crowd duly approves of Tod nearly being dumped on his head and onto the outside mats, Nat maintains the fast pace of the opening minutes of the match as he quickly follows his opponent to ringside, only to lift him up by the hair and teasing him with a few slaps behind the head. He casually smashes the pseudo german's head on the ring apron, causing Tod to groggily check his nose for blood in the process. Nat tosses the canadian one back inside the ring, whom tries to crawl away to safety towards a corner. Nat meets up with him and fires away at Tod's midsection with a series of roundhouse kicks that drive the air out of the man. Irish whip to the opposite corner is reversed as Nat takes the trip instead. Tod charges like a mad man at his opponent, but Nat easily counters whatever he might've been attempting by backdropping him CLEAR over the ropes … only Tod lands on the ring apron. He reaches between the ropes and scores with a shoulder block, doubling over Nathaniel. A quick hop up to the top rope allows him to …well, "roll" (not quite leap) off the ropes with a sunset flip into a pin!**

ONE!

TWO!

**Quick kick out by Nathaniel. Tod tries to take control with a side headlock but Nathaniel is on too big of a tear right now, as he effortlessly shoves Tod to the ropes, freeing himself. A hard shoulder tackle sends Tod to the mat, as Nat decides to throw himself into the ropes. Tod tries the old fashion way to trip him up by rolling onto his stomach as Nat leaps over him. Tod counters the other charge by hopping up to his feet and leapfrogging his charging opponent. Nat ducks a clothesline attempt by Tod, but quickly puts the brakes on and sends Tod to the ropes with his OWN Irish whip. Tod ducks under a head-tearing high roundhouse kick attempt and then counters a back bodydrop attempt with a Van Dam'esque flip, landing behind Nat. He wraps his arm around Nat's waist in a rear waistlock, pushes him towards the ropes and bounces backwards with the added momentum, into another pinning predicament.**

ONE!

TWO!

**Another kick out, as Nat wiggles free.**

Stevens: Close call there.

Riley: You want close? Mark Stevens and a woman during prom night.

Stevens: …

**Tod once again tries to gain control of the match for the first time, as he buries a kneelift into Nathaniel's gut, followed by another series of right hands. Irish whip attempt by Tod is reversed as Nat switches sides with a modified armwrench and tries his own whip; as THAT is reversed by Tod, sending Nat on his intended trip to the ropes. Tod wastes no time and connects right away with a crisp powerslam into a cover.**

ONE!

TWO!

**Kick out by Nat. Tod grabs him by the left wrist and sends him running hard into a random corner with an Irish whip, causing Nat to stagger to center ring. Tod bounces off the opposite ropes and nails a huge flying forearm that knocks down the Non-Silent One once again. Tod leans over and lands on top for yet another pin attempt.**

ONE!

TW--

**Not even two, as Nat basically has to poke Tod's arm off of him.**

Stevens: Quite a lax cover, there. The only thing looser would be Bobby Riley's taste in women.

Riley: …

**Nat tries to recover in a corner, but Tod is right on him with an angry canadian chokehold, which draws the five count from Billy Chioda. Another solid Irish whip to the opposite corner sends Nat colliding hard CHEST first this time, into the turnbuckles. Nathaniel staggers backwards …and into the Silent Scream! …At least, kind of.**

Stevens: And there's the Silent Scream! Tod's trying to take this one in a hurry!!

Riley: Aw YEAH, baby!! Lock it in!!

Stevens: He's having a bit of trouble, though!

**Nathaniel knows a little what that move is like and tries to lock his two hands together in order to prevent Tod to fully complete the dreaded choke hold. When that fails, he suddenly throws his left elbow behind him …and CRACKS Tod right on the side of the head! He retakes control of Tod with an arm twist, holding it into place and allowing him to connect with two sharp hook kicks right on Tod's face. The pseudo german grappler staggers about, trying to replace his jaw, just as Nat recovers. He grabs Tod from behind and drops him with a neatly executed backdrop suplex. He aims the point of the elbow right on the forehead and repeadetly drops it on the prone Tod. He lifts him to his feet by the hair and sends him to the ropes via an Irish whip. Tod bounces off the ropes and once again tries to connect with a flying forearm to the head, only Nat dodges it in the nick of time. Awaiting for Tod, he comes off the ropes himself and NAILS Tod right in the face with a rolling kappo kick! He lands on top for the cover.**

ONE!

TWO!

**Kick out by Tod, who tries the old Ric Flair method of begging off for mercy, as Nat slowly stalks him. At the last second, Tod tries a mighty swing of the right; but Nathaniel ducks and catches Tod in a rear waistlock of his own. He tries to lift him up in a dreaded german suplex, but Tod is a bit reluctant to cooperate. Nat instead opts to hammer him on the upper back with two or three stiff forearms, then choosing to release his waistlock. He spins into place and DRILLS Tod on the back of the head with a standing spin kick. Seeing as Tod appears dead, Nathaniel rolls him over and puts on another lateral press.**

ONE!

TWO!

TH--!

**Kick out by the not quite german.**

Stevens: As you can see, Nathaniel appears to be working on the head and neck of Tod deKindes, no doubt setting him up for his move that he calls 'Erase The Past', which has quite a tough to pronounce name, Bobby.

Riley: Don't look at me, I don't speak chinese.

Stevens: Isn't it japanese?

Riley: Whichever has the least consonants.

**Seeing as he's rapidly being overmatched, Tod backs away to the safety of a corner, only to shower Nathaniel with kicks to the midsection upon his arrival. He switches places with him and shoves Nat to the corner, keeping up with more punches and kicks. An Irish whip sends Nat ramming back first into the opposite corner, which is when Tod charges from his starting point and NAILS a breath depriving corner spear on the helpless Nathaniel. He quickly grabs Nat's head in a front facelock and throws his arm into position. Since Nat is a little too big for a snap suplex, Tod opts for a regular vertical suplex instead and slams Nat down onto the mat with authority. Holding onto the move, Tod floats back onto his feet, and drives Nathaniel down with his customary face first front suplex. Tod lifts up Nat for a third time, muscles him up in the air …and sends him CRASHING stomach first onto the top rope.**

Stevens: NOT a pretty landing for Nathaniel, there.

**Instead of following up with his usual trademark springboard legdrop, Tod throws himself into the ropes …and comes off SOARING over the hunched over Nathaniel into a sunset powerbomb attempt. Tod pulls and pulls, but Nathaniel hangs onto the ropes.**

Riley: We know that move to the outside can REALLY scramble some brain cells when done right! So I don't blame Nat for trying to hang on for dear life.

**While Tod tries to pull Nat down with all his might, Angel approaches the two and almost pleads with Tod not to do it. However, Tod will hear nothing of it …and casually yanks out Nat's legs from under him, causing him to hit his face on the apron! Tod celebrates that exploit to the crowd with a mighty "How 'BOUT that?!" …only once he turns his attention back to Nathaniel, he walks right into a mighty SLAP to the face, courtesy of Angel! Meanwhile, Billy Chioda has his ten count fired up …**

Stevens: Oh YEAH!! You go, girl!! (1)

Riley: Now what the hell was THAT for?!

**Tod takes a (2) second to rub his face free of any pain, and then shoots a murderous look towards the young lady. He grabs (3) her in the hear and balls up his fist, shouting numerous threats interspersed with a few insulting names for her.**

Stevens: Come on now, he's gonna (4) hit a woman!!

Riley: Bitch asked for it!!! That's how they keep their (5) women in check in Toronto!

**Just as Tod was about to unleash his rage on Angel, he barely has the time to see out of the corner of his eye that Nat (6) is back up …and neutralizes Tod with the resounding SMACK of a superkick that floors Tod! Nat quickly rolls back in under the bottom rope and breaks up Chioda's count, only to roll back outside to collect his fallen opponent. Once both are back in the ring, Nat gets on top of Tod and hooks the leg for the cover.**

ONE!

TWO!

THR--!

**Shoulder up by Tod, who once again tries to beg off and retreat to a corner. Nat still keeps up with him and stalks towards him…only to fall victim to a double leg pickup and a pin attempt by Tod with the feet on the ropes!**

Stevens: Hey come on, feet on the ropes!!

Riley: What feet?!

ONE!

TWO!

THRE--!!

Chioda: HEY!! Get those feet off of there!!

**Tod protests that decision with the young referee, only to have an official's patch shoved right in his face. Nevertheless, Tod goes back to putting the hurt on Nathaniel, only he sees nothing but 242 lbs of Kibagami charging towards him; leaving Tod just enough time to duck under a clothesline and catch Nat in a fireman's carry position, DRIVING him hard into the mat with a DVD! Tod follows it up by heading over to a corner and undertakes a slow climb of the turnbuckles. Crouching on the top rope, he studies his possibilities; before leaping off of his perch of intended violence in an awkward position, only to snap into the picture perfect position of an elbowdrop, landing HARD onto the chest of Kibagami. He leans over and hooks the leg for the cover.**

ONE!

TWO!

THRE--!

**Shoulder up by Nat, which causes Tod to pull the proverbial hairs out from his head. Tod lets out his contempt by unleashing his own series of rapid fire right hands to the side of the head of Nathaniel. A crisp snapmare lands Nat in a seated position, which allows Tod to duly turn the back of his head into sludge with a nasty low dropkick. Tod puts on another lateral press for the pin, making sure this time to grind his forearm into Nathaniel's face.**

ONE!

TWO!

THR--!

**Close kick out by Nathaniel. Both men end up back to their feet, where an Irish whip exchange sends Tod running the ropes. The non wunderkind ducks under yet another clothesline and back elbow attempt, only to then counter a back bodydrop attempt with a BIG TIME jumping piledriver! Confident of his shot this time, Tod puts on a lateral press, still with the forearm grinding.**

ONE!

TWO!

THRE--!

Stevens: Not quite!!

Riley: Did you teach that referee how to count, Slammer?!

**Tod looks on in angered shock, as he stares at Nathaniel's outstretched shoulder in the air. Still determined, however, Tod gets to his feet and announces a big "That is IT!!" to the crowd. He picks up Nat by the back of the neck and drags him up…**

Riley: Oh yeah, this is it, if he hits this, it'll be over.

Stevens: Tod, going for the, *ahem* German Wet Dream Machine, it looks like.

**Tod runs Nat's left arm through his legs and hooks the free right arm, appropriating him into the pumphandle position. He lifts him up with a little bit of effort …but Nathaniel wiggles free of the move and lands on his feet behind Tod!**

Stevens: Wait, he's got it countered!

**Having managed to grab Tod's head in an inverted facelock, Nat backtracks towards a corner and somehow pedals up…and flips forward into a modified Diamond Dust!**

Riley: 'The hell?! That's not one of his usual moves!

Stevens: No, but it's still a unique counter to the Wet Dream Machine, Bobby.

**Having landed more on his chin than his throat, Tod gets up and staggers about as if he'd just taken a massive jawbreaker, only to be forcefully Irish whipped to the ropes by Nathaniel and taken down with a MASSIVE roundhouse kick to the face!**

Stevens: And now Nathaniel seems ready to make his comeback!

**Tod this time takes a little more time to get back to his feet, but Nat stands ready. Just as Tod is on dream streak, he goes up to one knee to steady himself up…but that's all Nathaniel needs. He charges forward, boosts himself up Tod's knee and BLASTS him on the side of the head with a Shining Wizard~! Tod falls like a sack of bricks, as Nat falls on top for the cover.**

Stevens: This is it, he's got him!

ONE!

TWO!

THRE--!

**But Tod gets the shoulder up! Angel climbs onto the apron to dispute that count with the referee, while the unaware Nathaniel shouts out a bellowing "Kiou o Kakekisu!!" in a sign of anticipated victory.**

Stevens: And now Nathaniel is gonna erase the past and put this one away for good!

Riley: But does he even see Angel on the apron??

**That's all a moot point; as Nat tries to raise up Tod to his feet, only to have the canadian one stretch out his right arm and connect quite painfully with Nat's unmentionnables.**

Stevens: Low blow!!

Riley: There will be NO erasing of ANY past while Tod's around, THANK YOU!!

**While Angel pleads a hopeless case to the referee, Tod decides that he'll deal with her …by walking over to her and planting a big wet one on her!! While Chioda returns his attention back to the match, Angel wipes her mouth off as if she'd been kissed by an orgasming granny, which leaves the opportunity for Tod to get rid of her, by SUPERKICKING her off the apron!! Taking a moment to shower in the boos of his heinous actions, Tod lets out an insincere "Thank you!!" before asking Billy Chioda how great he is.**

Stevens: Come ON!! He's just kicked that poor defenseless girl off the apron and now he's wasting time!

Riley: That's MY BOY!!

**Tod takes one second too long, however, as Nat recovers back up to his feet and traps Tod in another roll up! Chioda gets in position to count …but Nathaniel releases the hold?? His attention is clearly now on his fallen valet, as he walks over to the ropes and calls out to her. She doesn't respond. Meanwhile, he's forgotten ALL about his opponent, who casually gets back to his feet, sneaks behind Nathaniel …and locks in the Silent Scream!!**

Riley: Here we go!!

Stevens: Nathaniel took his eye off the ball for a second too long as he tried to talk to Angel, and it's costing him as we speak!

**As Tod falls backwards and completes the move with the added body scissors, the crowd realizes what's up and showers Tod with another heaping helping of boos. Billy Chioda gets into position to get a submission out of Nathaniel, who is quickly fading away into unconsciousness …**

Riley: You gotta hand it to Tod! He overcame the IMPOSSIBLE two to one odds and the MASSIVE outside interference by Angel!!

Stevens: What?!?

**Nat tries to stay in this one as he slowly crumbles …only to have a brief regain of energy! …Which is only for him to concede with two frustrated taps on the mat. Billy Chioda orders for the bell to be rung.**

Riley: Woo Hoo!!

**As 'Cold' fires up in heinous victory, Tod releases the hold and springs up to his feet, throwing his fists up in the air.**

Funyon: Here is your winner by submission: Tod deeeeeeeee - Kin - deeeeeeeeeeeess !!!

**Chioda doesn't even think about raising Tod's hand, as he goes over to check on Nathaniel, then onto Angel, who's starting to recover from that brutal superkick she took.**

Stevens: Nevertheless, it's a win for Tod deKindes, but it's taken him a lot to get there, Bobby!

Riley: Correction: it's ANOTHER win for Tod deKindes! He adds ONE MORE name to the list of people he's already beaten and proven his superiority over!!

**As Tod retreats to the back, we see Nat shoving Chioda away and tending to his girl by himself; picking her up and carefully carrying her all the way up the ramp.**

Stevens: Back after this!

January 9, 2003

The camera fades in to see the Suicide King sitting on the edge of a heavy oaken desk in a small bare room. His head is down with his stringy, blonde hair just barely covering his eyes. However, it can be easily determined that he is waiting for something…someone. On cue a large, bulky shadow falls over his form and the fans can be heard cheering in the arena, expecting another confrontation with the Hville Thugg.

“I was told you wanted to see me,” a deep, slightly accented voice rumbles from off screen and the cheers quickly shift to boos as the voice is recognized.

“I did…Frost.” King raises his head and shakes his hair back to stare at the muscular monster walking into frame. Frost is in full wrestling gear and oiled up, more than already prepared for his upcoming match with Orochi.

“Nice office,” Frost scoffs with a hint of sarcasm as he surveys the makeshift headquarters of the SWF’s new top dog.

“Much like you, I do what I can with what I have.” King crosses his arms over his chest with a coy smile.

Frost returns the grin with a quizzical sneer. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“You’re career in the SJL started right when I became a color commentator down there and that was no mistake,” King punches the sentence with added verbal weight. “I wanted to have my eye on you from the start. Whatever matches that brain dead MacPhisto put you in you succeeded. When you were bumped and Stubby wanted to pin you as a midcard tag guy and hardcore cannon fodder, you plowed through the competition without a word to prove your worth. You won some bullshit US Title number one contenders match over a month ago that he booked when you should have been going after the ICTV, when you should have been going after the World. You have always played the hand dealt you and won, I admire that.”

“Are you going to dazzle me with brilliance sometime soon or just keep befuddling me with bullshit?” Frost pokes a finger in King’s chest and the fans ‘ooo’ impressed.

King looks down at the finger and lets it rest. “That’s another thing I like about you, Frost, you like to get down to brass tacks minus the pleasantries.”

“Then do it.” Frost removes his finger and places his hands on his hips expectantly.

“Fine, let me lay it out simple for you. You hate the Hville Thugg. I hate the Hville Thugg. He’s given me problems in the past. He’s given you problems in the past. I don’t want him giving me problems in the future and I’m positive you can put an end to that future.”

“Take out HVT for you then?”

“Exactly.” King places a finger on the side his nose to signal that Frost has it nailed.

“No!” The word hangs in the air from the Velvet Hammer and a mysterious murmur rifles through the audience.

King puts his hands up and starts in, “Hold on and listen a second…”

“No!” Frost screams louder this time. “You listen to me. You just said yourself that everyone has been treating me like a pawn since I’ve joined this miserable federation and I’m a king. A real king.” Frost bites off the last sentence and the Gambling Man’s eyes narrow angrily. “I deserve the ICTV title. I deserve the World title. I deserve to toss everyone out on their asses at Clusterfuck and you know why? Because, I’m Frost. If I want to rearrange Thugg’s face it’s because looking at him makes me puke, not because you tell me too. If I receive an ICTV title shot, it’s because I cram Orochi in the hurt locker tonight, not because you choose to reward me. Right now, I’m going to walk out of this room, not because you dismiss me, but because I want to. Although, if I run into HVT, I’ll give him your warmest regards.”

Frost sharply turns on his heels and exits the room. The edges of King’s lips slowly rise, until an ear-to-ear grin is plastered on his face and the evilest of chuckles thunders from his lungs. The camera zooms in slowly on the King of Hearts and fades to black.

January 9, 2003

As we come back from commercial break the live crowd in Columbus, Ohio’s Nationwide Arena pop for the cameras sweeping over them and giving them their five to fifteen seconds of fame, depending on how robust their chest is. “Hello and welcome back to the first SWF STORM of 2003!” begins Mark Stevens regaling us with his normal tone, displaying both his speaking skills and how much of a mark for the sport he really is. “We’re filled to capacity-”

“With tons and tons of Ohioans,” interrupts Riley, “which can’t be all bad, since our beloved deputy commissioner lives here, right?!”

“Of course not Bobby,” responses Stevens, even though in the back of his mind he’s got the perfect potshot to take against King. Damn professionalism, it’s always getting in the way, “the mid-west is home to some of the best crowds around!”

“Well, it has to be MUCH better than Nebraska just on principal.” adds Bobby, smirking into the camera with a look of pure joy. “I mean, Ohio State won the Fiesta bowl and Nebraska won that second rate Rose bowl…”

Mark gives Bobby a look and grabs him by the lapels pulling him up with one hand. “My you’re a lot stronger now that you’ve retired. Going to the gym a lot?” Stevens doesn’t release the hold after the weak attempt at begging off. “Uh, go-boomer-sooners…?” And that finally gets Mark in a better mood. He discharges Riley from his grasp; readjusts his cap, and looks to finish his earlier speech. “As I was saying,” cue the quick glare towards Riley, “before I was so gaily interrupted.”

“Hey!” shouts an offended Riley. “I only experimented in college… really!”

“…uh Bobby,” says Mark, “you do know that I was speaking about how happy you were to point out the differences between the Fiesta and Rose bowls?”

“Yeah… I was just saying… uh…” says Bobby stalling like there is no tomorrow.

Mark nods his head. “Yeah.” And that is all that needs to be said so Bobby changes subjects. “Well up next is a tag team match that is far from random as random tag matches go.” Bobby waves a hand to dismiss that comment. “The tag division is in need of a booster shot-”, that comment causes Riley to give Stevens the look. “Okay maybe a good dose of speed, but here’s hoping that the former tag team of Mike Craven and Xero are up to the challenge. They haven’t worked together since Genesis III, but I think they’ll do just fine.”

“And on the other side, Mak Francis and Ced Ordonez are looking to get into a tag groove.” Mentions Riley. Stevens takes his cue and adds to that. “They had a little confrontation at Ashes to Ashes, but after Ced was put on the self by Orochi,” Stevens takes a breath, ”Mak took it upon himself to avenge that loss and did so with that desperation Peterson roll up, out of nowhere. Now they are back and looking to make a lasting impression in the tag division!”

Suddenly, ‘Esaka?’ from the King of the Fighters original soundtrack, blasts followed by the lights dimming!

“First making their way to ringside…”

CED appears at the entranceway, a purple towel draped over his head. A spotlight shines down on him as he walks half way down the ramp and the music abruptly changes pace… and the lights go out completely!

“So do you wanna’ be a Franchise… And live large… A big house… five cars…”

The SmarkTron flares up with a blue and white photonegative image of Mak Francis, which is followed by ‘The Franchise’ in large green lettering, flashing on the screen in time with the beat.

“The rent charge… Comin’ up in the world, don’t trust nobody… Gotta’ look over your shoulder constantly!”

The self proclaimed franchise makes his way through the curtain. The lights come back up and Francis comes out onto the stage walks down to where Ced is…

“I remember the days, when I was a young kid grownin’ up… Lookin’ in the mirror dreamin’ about blowin’ up!”

And multiple short bursts of green pyrotechnics erupt from either side of him and Ced. They slowly walk to ringside and after walking up the ring steps, Francis cockily wipes his feet on the apron, giving a mock salute to the crowd, just as Ced throws his towel into the audience. While Francis climbs the nearest turnbuckle and poses, Ced stretches waiting for their opponents.

“At a combined weight of 428lbs., ‘THE FRANCHISE’ MAK FRAAANCISsss and CED ORDONEZzzzzzzz!”

”And their opponents…”

The arena lights are off, as "Trust" by Megadeth starts to play. The drum beat gets louder every second. Red and white strobe lights flash in the arena. About 30 seconds of drums the guitars come in, as fire emerges from the stage, as Xero comes out. Xero flexes his muscles with the fire still blazing high. He comes walking down wearing his matching vest, and a see through shirt, as he goes halfway down the ramp awaiting…

The lights to cut out again! The crowd begins to cheer a little, while strobe lights pulse to the beat of Audioslave’s “Cochise”, then smoke spewing from vents in front of the entrance as the drums blare and pyro begins flowing from the top of the SmarkTron.

A huge pyro blast kicks up from the front of the stage at the guitar drop. Flames simultaneously shoot high up into the air on the edges of the stage in beat with the song following the initial blast, as a red tint covers the stage. A spotlight shines down on Craven as he bursts through the smoke cloud in a half-sprint! He stops turning to look at the fans, and quickly begins to pound his chest, pump his fist into the air, as the strobes pulse in tempo.

”Coming into tonight’s match, at a combined weight of 470lbs., MICHAEL CRAAAAVEN and XEEEEEEEEEROooo!”

He and Xero run into ring and climb the turnbuckle closest to them. Mike then lifts both arms into the air with an intense look and hops off the turnbuckle, while Xero doe the same. Ced says in the ring and Mak goes into their corner as Craven and Xero decide Mike will go first.

And it looks like Ced and Mike will start!” exclaims Stevens as referee Eddy Long asks for the bell.

DING! DING! DING!

“These two have a little WF history going back to the hardcore title match at the Holds Down Christmas PPV!” says Stevens reminding the home audience. “And that ended with Craven getting the win so you know Ced is looking for a little revenge here!” Of course Bobby has to get his say in, so as Mike and Ced turn the circle he speaks. “I’m liking the edger Ced Ordonez of late. Trying to get that title shot by turning in Thugg was a good career decision and he’s been motivated since Orochi put him on the shelf to make something of himself!”

Finally Craven and Ordonez come together in a collar and elbow tie-up! Both men jockey for position, neither taking control until and finally Craven moves into a back waistlock attempting to German suplex Ced! Ordonez quickly rushes to the ropes and bounces off them, forcing Mike to break the hold and execute a back tuck roll! Ced turns around and gets into a grapplers stance, while Craven does the same.

“Stalemate…” comes the comment from Stevens as the hot crowd pops for even that little bit of action. Ced waves him off and tags in his partner so Craven does the same. “That was short…” comments Grand Slam, as Mak and Xero jockey in the collar and elbow.

Francis controls Xero with a high wristlock and the one inch taller, fifteen pounds heavy Franchise uses that to his advantage! Mak, oozing confidence, pushes Xero arms down over his head and behind his back! Which each second of additional pressure, Xero bends and bends AND BENDS – until he’s actual bridging on his head in a remarkable counter!! Francis quite shocked by this display, lets up ever so slightly, allowing Xero to push his way back up to a vertical base! “Xero?!” yells an incredulous Bobby Riley. “When the hell did he learn how to do that Mark?” The Heavy Hitter looks at his announce partner and gives him a straight answer. “He always knew how Bobby,” comments Stevens in anger, “Xero bridges out of a tight spot there on the canvas and is in full control with a side headlock, which is surprising to Francis and some other people, as we normally see Mak pulling out those mat counters.”

While Xero grinds in the side headlock, the Franchise pushes Xero’s wrists up to alleviate some pressure, before sitting out and forcing his opponent to feebly grab for a back waistlock. Mak quickly stands back up, now on the opposite side of the crowned King of the DDT, with a standing arm bar that is parleyed into an arm wringer!

“Now that’s how it’s done on the mat Xero!” quips Riley, looking for Grand Slam to back him up. “Pure amateur skill there from the Franchise leads to a nice reversal.” adds Stevens following up. ”You cannot doubt that this kid is one of the best, when you’re down on that canvas.”

Xero pats his shoulder, as Mak gives it a nice tug – but the high flyer lunges towards the corner stepping on the first, second and final turnbuckle before flipping off and pulling Mak to the mat with an arm drag!!

“Xero running the turnbuckle and nailing a deep arm drag!” shouts Stevens. “And it looks like he’s gonna’ pick up the pace here folks!” Francis swiftly pops up to his feet and charges forward, only to eat a standing dropkick to the face! Mak bounces up again like a superball, just in time to take a second dropkick to the chest! Xero looks for the trifecta, leaping as Mak gets to his feet – but the self proclaimed franchise evades it, swatting the kick away!

“There we go Mak!” shouts Bobby. “You can spout your Xero propaganda all you want Grand Shill, but he went to the well once too often and Mak left him hangin’ like Mr. Cooper!”

Meanwhile Francis is tuning up the band with a stomp to set himself he catches Xero on the chin turning the King of the DDT around 180°! Francis lifts him for a backdrop suplex – but Xero counters floating over the top!! One kick to the gut and DDT later he has the matches’ first pinfall!! Eddy Long makes the count…

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No! Mak kicks out just after two…

“Xero, showing everyone just why they call him King of the DDT with a brutal one there!” says Stevens, meanwhile Xero plays to the crowd a little, giving Francis an out. “And Mak is out of there as quick as possible tagging in CED! Ordonez did well earlier wrestling Mike Craven to a stalemate so I wonder what will happen here?”

Ced steps in between the ropes and dashes forward to the middle of the ring and immediately begins jockeying for position with Xero! Ced suddenly executes a headlock into a back waistlock on Xero, but he gets more than he bargained for, as Xero runs to the near ropes and while grabbing the top cable, bounces off them chest first hurling Ordonez into a back tuck roll! Ced pops up, just as Xero dashes towards him and links arms, plants his feet and flings him away with an Irish whip!! Ced runs the ropes ducking under a round house - but he eats a spinning heel kick on his way back! Xero doesn’t slow down one bit, picking Ced up for a Belly to Back Suplex – but a rolling kneebar counters all that momentum!

“An Irish whip leads to some more fast paced action, but Ced brings us all back down to earth with a rolling kneebar on Xero’s right leg.” Notes Grand Slam, well aware of how the crowds pop just died in their throats at that counter. Meanwhile Xero continues to fight towards the ropes and gets in them. Ordonez breaks the hold and backs away as Xero uses the ropes to get to his feet – but Ced interrupts that with a sound dropkick to the right knee. “Xero managing to get to the ropes breaks the submission hold, but Ced scores a quick low dropkick.”

As Xero cradles his leg as Ced makes the tag to his partner. “And in comes Mak Francis looking to dominate Xero and get some payback for the first few minutes of the match!” finishes the Heavy Hitter, as Mak enters the ring.

“Man, Mak is so good at kicking people when their down!” adds Riley with a goofy smile. “That’s not only Franchisable but domination!”

“I’m sure he can dominate you any time right?” suggests Stevens.

“Do you REALLY think he would?” say Bobby in slight shock and Mark tries to change the subject before it gets out of hand for the PG-13 viewers. “Bobby, please don’t give us the details…”

“What, I always though I was an okay technical wrestler.”

Mark just sighs and no sells another idiotic Riley comment, while Ced picks his injured opponent up, placing him against one of the neutral corners, before Irish whipping him across the ring! Xero hits the buckles hard causing him to prop himself up, but you can tell he’s a little out of it because his head is straight back, allowing him to stare up at the lights.

“Francis’s going for a right armed avalanche clothesline off of the Irish whip from Ordonez!” Craven yells from his corner for Xero to watch out but it’s no use…

As Francis leaps into the air much like a bronco buster and flies in between the second and top ropes before hitting a NASTY right armed lariat, stopping his momentum and ending with Mak on the ring apron!!!

“What in the hell was that?”

“It was cool and that’s all I care about!”

In other news, Ced sprints in from his position a little to the left of Xero and repeats the process clocking him against the turnbuckle once more!!!

“And another one of those clothesline variants by Ced this time!” As Mark tries to think up a name for those clotheslines Eddy Long tells Ced to get back into his corner, which he does by dropping off the apron and walking over. “I’d call them sideswipe clotheslines because of the way hit them so that’s what we’ll go with!” says Stevens not surprisingly correct in naming the move. Meanwhile, Francis hops back in the ring and peppers Xero with three successive snapping left hand jabs to the face! And after shaking it out, Francis lands a final snapping right!

“Xero is on 432 Dream Street,” quips Riley. “And it doesn’t looking like he’s waking up anytime soon!”

“Xero now being set up in the corner by the Franchise and Mak has intertwined Xero’s right leg in that second rope.” Francis backs away slightly before stomping away at the knee. The King of the DDT tries to protect but Mak just takes a few more steps back and hits running textbook dropkick to the knee!!

“It’s become apparent that Ced and Mak are targeting the knee of Xero, first with the kneebar and now the continuous low dropkicks.”

“I’m sure you ALWAYS win clue against Lynn, eh Grand master of the obvious?” jokes Riley, laughing all the while.

“As a matter of fact…” starts Mark, his eyes lighting up.

“Shut it Stevens!” quickly interrupts that train of thought. “Just call the match or something.”

“Francis still in control pulls Xero down from his perch and goes for the pin. Eddy Long moves into position…

ONE

TWO

And Xero kicks out just at two!

“Now why did Mak do all that work on the leg just to go for a pin?” legitimately wonders Riley.

“Now that’s actually a good question.” begins his announcing cohort. “Even though he’s worked the leg a lot the object of the match is to win by submission OR pin fall. If you get a chance to pin someone you had better take it!” Stevens breathes. “Besides he can lock on that submission right afterwards and it takes a lot of effort to push a 225lb. man off you. Each time you have to, it gets hard and harder…”

Francis looks to Long and claps his hands as if to say he wants a quicker count, before pulling Xero’s left leg and twisting it into the shape of a crude four… or he would have IF XERO DIDN’T A SMALL PACKAGE!”

Long drops to count the pin…

ONE

TWO

Francis shifts his weigh and now he’s got the pinfall!!

ONE

TWO

T-

But Xero wriggles himself and changes the momentum AGAIN!!

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TWO

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R-

No. Xero gets two and a half and then Mak breaks the cradle!

The self proclaimed Franchise pops up to his feet as Xero hobbles up to his vertical base. Mak grabs him and sends him off to run the ropes with an Irish whip. The King of the DDT on a shaky leg ducks a back elbow attempt – but falls prey to a Mak Francis Tilt-a-whirl, WHICH even with his bad wheel, he counters into Head Scissors Takedown!! The crowd goes crazy, REALLY getting behind him as Francis flops towards his corner and spins out!! Craven pounds on the turnbuckle pad trying to rally his partner as Xero crawls towards him… closer… and the loud clap of hands high-fiving is heard… closer still comes Xero less than a foot away – but Ced breaks up the tag flying forward and knocking Mike to the floor with a back elbow!!

“Xero was so close…” mutters Stevens, as the crowd practically dies. And Riley’s reply is a thing of beauty. “Close is only good in horseshoes, hand grenades and beating Ced in DDR because I’ve never seen ANYBODY do it!”

Xero tries to get closer to his corner in vain as his partner has been wiped out, so Ced pulls him back into the middle of the ring and slams his knee down onto the canvas! Ced once again jerks Xero’s leg up high before bringing it down hard for two! Ordonez finishes with that attack and pulls his captive close to his side of the ring. He places him in the ropes where he sets the injured right limb and after bouncing on the bottom cable he sits out, crushing the leg!! “What a focused attack by Ced, who is just not the same after Orochi put him on the shelf!” Riley for the first time in a while agrees with Steven. “Yeah what the hell happened,” but you KNOW they have to disagree, “he’s been a lot more focused in ring,” begins Riley showing his index finger, “he tried to get a World title shot by any means necessary,” Riley brings up another finger signally two, “AND he’s beating the everlovin’ snot out of Craven and Xero… so I ask you what is wrong with that?”

Ced finished pounding the leg in dust lifts Xero up to his vertical base grabbing the right leg and yanking him out into the center of the ring before hitting a Dragon screw legwhip! Will that leg work finally pay off as everybody knows that’s Ced set-up to his Cross Lightning, a devastating reverse figure four or Nagata lock that terrorizes the legs and knees…” And just like that Xero’s on his back and Ced snitches in the Cross Lightning!

“AHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” is the loud noise the fans hear as Xero cries out in pain and raises his up to tap out – but the nightmare, seeing his partner about to give up jumps in and break the hold with all the flash and panache he can muster! Hitting a Rolling Five-Star Frog Splash to break up the Nagata lock…

“Michael Craven giving these fans what they want to see.” Proclaims the Heavy Hitter.

As Eddy Long forces Craven out of the ring Bobby Riley gives his opinion. ”At least it wasn’t a one legged piledriver…”

“Shut up, Bobbi!”

“Stevens you’re lucky I’m in a good mood after cracking that joke…”

Ced yanks Xero to his feet and drives him to the mat with a Backdrop Suplex. Then Ced immediately goes into a second-rope moonsault – BUT XERO GETS THE KNEES UP!

Xero even in injury moves towards his partner not giving up… until the tag gets broken up by Francis nailing Craven in the face!

“YES!”

Francis lifts the hurt Xero to his feet and up into the air placing him on the top rope! The announcers gasp, the crowd gasps, as everybody knows what’s coming…

“Can Francis hit the Superfishermanbustah~!?” questions Stevens.

“Of course,” responds Riley. “He is Franchisable!”

Francis tries to hook the leg - but Xero pulling from his last bit of strength rails off a few right hands that stagger him! Mak sways and Xero grabs AND FALLS INTO A TORNADO DDT!

Xero down on the ground claws with everything he’s got pulling his way to the promise land…

…And Mak fights to get to his corner so Ced can stop him…

Mak…

…then Xero…

Mak… makes the tag to CED!

“Please don’t let him tag…”

…THEN XERO…

…

MAKES THE TAG!!!

Craven slingshots over the top rope exploding forward and taking Ced down with a clothesline! Mak having slightly shaken off the effects of the tornado DDT eats a clothesline all the same! Mike rebounds off the near ropes as Francis pops up and nails a forearm smash to put him down but Ced is ready this time grabbing the nightmare from behind and Irish whipping him!! Ordonez attempts a roundhouse kick that Craven ducks and upon his return Mike leaps into a Lou Thesz Press striking Ced numerous times with mounted Punches!

“Michael Craven is a house en fuego after clotheslines and forearms a go-go he hits the Burning Rage on Ced!”

“This cannot be happening…” mumbles Riley, Mike finishes his punches and Ced rolls out of the ring, but sure enough it is, as the Franchise, still a little wobbly rushes in and Craven, spotting him out of the corner of his eye, takes him over in a Powerslam!

The nightmare stands up waving from Francis to come on and the crowd just loves it! Francis dizzy from all the offense he took jumps up and stumbles backwards… straight into a Sake Bomb!! Michael Craven flips him over and goes for the pin!! Eddy Long dives into position halfway outside the ring…

ONE

TWO

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E-

And Mike moves at the last second causing Ced’s double knee drop to hit Mak by mistake!!!

“This is a [bleep]in’ travesty!” screams Riley forgetting they’re not on PPV! “Somebody…he’s just a pokemon lovin’ idiot!”

Ced stands up apologizing to Mak who’s pointing behind him as Craven stands tall on the top turnbuckle…

Ced turns around…

Craven leaps…

AND CONNECTS!!!

“Rocket Launch,” shills Stevens in full mark out mode. “What a Missile Dropkick to Ced! And Mike Craven goes for the cover! This should be over!”

ONE

TWO

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NOOOOOOO! Mak breaks up the pin at the LAST second!!!

“THANK GOD!” exclaims a sighing Riley. “I thought he MIGHT actually win…”

“And Xero’s back up!” mentions Grand Slam, seeing him roll back into the ring. “Now that it’s even he and Craven should have the advantage!”

Xero finally back into the ring, forces Mak to roll off of the former Ketchum and Eddy Long reiterates with a loud “TWO! TWO!” that this match is still on. Craven visibly pissed grabs Francis and scores a right hand to the Franchise! Meanwhile Xero and a now standing Ced trade right hands and kicks respectively in all around brawl!!

Craven on the other side of the ring has backed Mak against the ropes fight for his life AS THEY TRADE KNIFE-EDGES! Francis rails off a couple knife-edges in a row to gain some momentum but Craven changes up and is completely winning this brawl as they go back to right hands!!

“This match has just degenerated into an all out brawl!” yells Stevens over the popping crowd.

Craven swings away with another right hand, but this one is ducked by Mak! Francis catches his left arm and bends it behind him in a hammerlock, just as Mike attempts right back elbow – BUT that too gets ducked setting up the one and only…

“That’s Franchisable~!” squeals Riley like a school girl with a crush on Justin Timberlake as Mak hits the jawbreaker and lift Craven up hanging before falling to the canvas and hanging his neck up on the top cable!!!

“A nifty hammerlock kneeling jawbreaker into a hot shot for Mak Francis has stunned this crowd and Michael Craven!” Xero looking to put Ced into purgatory for his sins hits a toe kick… or would have if Ordonez hadn’t caught it!!! Everyone in the crowd and their mama knows what’s coming next…

“Dragon Screw Legwhip, ON… IT’S… WAY~!” Ced gets ready to take a hopping Xero down to the mat and make him tap to Cross Lightning – BUT XERO COUNTERS WITH AN ENZIGIRI!!! The Enzigiri nearly beheads Ordonez, who falls onto the top rope, holding on for dear life, so as not to go down to the canvas! Ced looks up with glazed over eyes as Xero lunges for the front facelock that has made the King of the DDT famous – then he sees Mak Francis out of the corner of his eye…

…

But not in time to dodge as FRANCIS GETS A FULL HEAD OF STEAM HITTING THE YAKUZA KICK~! “Whattakick~!” shouts Stevens! “Whattaman~!” cries Riley! And Xero falls pver the top rope and to the outside!! “Whattaman?” questions Stevens, looking at Riley after thinking about it.

“I got caught up in the moment…” responses his announce partner eyes shifting too and fore.

Ced shakes his head clearing the cobwebs and moves forward with Mak as Mike Craven stumbles closer and closer towards them…

…And into…

Both of their awaiting hands… Craven feels each arm extended out before being lifted up vertically… and it dawns on him that he’s dangling as if he were a man pinned to a cross, just before Mak and Ced drive him into the canvas with a Double Crucifix Powerbomb~!~! of double tilde banging proportions!!!! Ced makes the cover…

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E!

“The winners of this match by pinfall, MAAAK FRAAANCISsss and CED ORDONEZzzzzzz!” bellows Funyon.

“What a contest here as Ced Ordonez and Mak Francis have certainly gelled as a tag team!” says Stevens. “They really worked well on Xero’s knee together, pulled out that crazy double sideswipe combo and that was a wonderfully executed Double Crucifix Powerbomb!”

“I just wanna’ know the names they have for those swank combos and finishers that they have locked away in their minds!”

“And we’ll be back with more SWF action, including our two non title matches.” Shills Stevens. “A four corners match and the Main Event…Frost vs. Orochi!”

January 9, 2003

An electric guitar hits the speakers at the Nationwide Arena, and the fans go bonkers for the easily recognizable riff.

“They don’t know”

“Who we be”

“They don’t know”

“Who we be”

DMX’s “Who We Be” goes into verse and HVT steps out to the stage, no fire, just Thugg.

(Stevens) – Welcome back to Storm ladies and gentlemen, and just as he promised, here comes the HVille Thugg, probably to call out Stubby and get his contract signed.

(Riley) – But I haven’t gotten word that Stubby is here yet, have you?

(Stevens) – No, I haven’t. But I’m certain Thugg will not settle for Stubby’s absence. He wants his contract, and he wants it now.

Thugg has reached ringside now, and pulls himself into the ring where he is handed a microphone from the ring attendant. The fans continue to pop for the extremely large superstar, forcing him to wait before addressing the audience. As his music fades out, Thugg clears his throat and starts to speak, but is quickly cut off by an “HVT” chant from the hyped up Columbus fans.

(Stevens) – And, of course, these Ohio fans love the Hville Thugg, and are really supporting him right now.

(Riley) – You forgot to mention how these dopes have quickly forgotten all of the “bad” things Thugg did before he left with that injury…

(Stevens) – Thugg has changed, and I think the fans are very forgiving. I know I am…

The chant dies down and Thugg is now ready to speak…

(HVT) – YO! Check it…I ain’t tryin’ to hate on nobody, but I’m not out here to talk to y’all tonight. It’s all good, and I appreciate the ovation, but there’s only one reason I’m out here, and I think y’all know what I’m talkin’ about. I want my mutha fuckin’ contract…I want it from Stubby…and I want it now! So…Stubby…get yo bitch ass out here and face me you piece of shit!

Nothing. No music…no pyro…no Stubby.

(HVT) – I’m sayin’ yo…we had an agreement…a deal we made just three weeks ago. I did my part yo by makin’ Bayawolf my bitch, and now it’s your turn to come correct wit yo part of da deal. So what’s up yo…stop fakin’ and bring me my contract yo.

Still nothing.

(Stevens) – Thugg is calling out the commissioner, but he’s not answering. What the hell…maybe he isn’t here after all.

(Riley) – Or maybe he realizes what I’ve known for quite some time. Thugg ain’t worth it…he’s a washed up has been that doesn’t deserve an SWF contract, and I wouldn’t be surprised if Stubby reneges on the deal and gives him nothing.

(HVT) – What the fuck yo…are that embarrassed to show your face Stubby? Can’t you face me like a man? I know you been hidin’ from me all night yo…just come out and be a man and give me what’s due…

Darkness impedes the vision of everyone in the arena, and the fans let out a restless sigh as finally, something is happening…

“ALL ABOARD! AH HAH HAH HAH!!"

Ozzy Osborne’s “Crazy Train” hits the speakers and the boos aren’t far behind as the crowd lets the deputy commish hear exactly what they think of him.

(Stevens) – It’s not Stubby!! It’s King! What’s he doing out here? Thugg doesn’t’ want to talk to him! He has no business out here…

(Riley) – Sure he does. He’s the deputy commissioner, and he’s out here to handle this situation. Plain and simple.

(HVT) – YO!!

HVT’s scream forces the crew to kill King’s music, but the former SWF champion still heads towards the ring, a microphone in one hand and paper in the other.

(HVT) – Dammit yo! Did I call you? No! I ain’t got no business wit you bitch. I talked to you already, and I unless you want a size 18 book up your ass, you besta roll the fuck out.

King, undeterred, continues down the ramp, but doesn’t hesitate to mince words with his long time adversary…

(King) – Thugg, Thugg, Thugg…didn’t I tell you just to wait and everything would be explained? I could have sworn I told you that. I figured that the new, homosexual Thugg had learned how to listen.

King steps in the ring, and Thugg immediately makes a B-line towards the Gambling man…but is halted suddenly by King, who flashes the papers in the air.

(King) – Ah, ah, ah…maybe you should just calm down a minute Thugg. I know you’d love nothing more than to come over here, grab me by the throat, and talk my ear off like the brand new bitch that you are…but I got something else in mind. In my hands, I hold…your SWF contract. That’s what you wanted right?

(HVT) – Damn straight. But I don’t want it from you yo…you ain’t shit…you’re just Stubby’s bitch. I want him down here to give it to me…

(King) – See, that’s just the thing. I wanted to wait and tell everyone when the time was right, but since you’ve forced my hand, I’ll just come out with it now. So, if you’ll excuse me for just a moment…DAMIEN…I have just a few announcements to make.

(Riley) – Oooo! Announcements! YAY!!

(Stevens) – God, you are such a kiss ass.

(King) – Now, I know all of you out there know by now that Stubby left the PPV just after Thugg’s match. I’m sure you’ve all read the rumors on the Internet and such, and I’m going to clear everything up right now. Stubby is gone.

A huge roar erupts from the crowd, as the news of Stubby’s departure brings joy to the heart of every fan.

(King) – Hold on…hold on. I’m not done. I know that many of you are devastated by this news, and it was certainly a shock to me as well. However, I’ve got more news that will definitely make all of you very, very happy. Since Stubby is gone and no one knows his whereabouts…

A long pause for suspense, even though everyone knows what he’s going to say next…

(King) – I have assumed full control of the SWF, effective immediately!!

(Stevens) – WHAT?? That bastard??

(Riley) – Now this is a great day for the SWF. We lose one great leader in Stubby, but we gain another in King…

Riley’s excitement over the news is the exact opposite of the rest of the arena, and the loud boos from the fans make that fact very evident. King waits for the boos to subside slightly before resuming…

(King) – I know, I know…How can I, Suicide King, replace such a great leader like Stubby? Well, that shouldn’t be too hard really. Stubby was weak. He couldn’t make any decisions, and any time he tried, people would just go over his head to Shinji. Well, everyone knows that Suicide King is the greatest thing that every happened to this federation, and I’m sure you all know I’ll be three times the commissioner Stubby was because…I’m just better than him in every way. With that in mind, I’d like to welcome everyone to a whole new era in the SWF…the era of the Suicide King. Thank you very much…

King, with his announcement made, starts to leave as the fans continue to boo him.

(HVT) – Whoa! Hold up cuz…

King stops and turns back around...

(King) – Oh damn, I almost forgot.

King simply hands Thugg the papers in his hand and starts to leave again.

(King) – You can just drop those by my office later…

HVT, however, doesn’t take the papers from King…

(HVT) – Oh hell no. Yo, you check this out bitch. The deal was for the commissioner…that’s you now right?...to deliver my contract in the middle of this ring…on his fucking knees! So, I ain’t signin’ shit till you get down on your fuckin’ knees and present me wit dat contract.

(King) – Oh…ok…right…ummmm…I’m thinking that’s not going to happen. But nice try though…

(HVT) – You think I’m playin’ wit yo punk ass? Yo, this ain’t no mutha fuckin’ joke bitch…get down on your knees and give me my contract, as per the agreement.

(King) – Oh, since you put it that way…let me…oh, wait…no, I’m not going to be doing that. You see, you made that agreement with Stubby, not me. Stubby ain’t in charge no more…I am, and I call the shots. And you know what I say…I say take this damn contract, or get the hell out.

(HVT) – Yo, for real cuz…you really pissin’ me off. Get down there and gimme the contract or I’ll wreck yo sh…

(King) – What? Wreck my shit? Is that what you’re gonna do? Just like you did backstage earlier, huh? Or just like you did at Holds Down Christmas? Or just like you did when I took your world title a year ago? The way I see it…you ain’t gonna be doing a damn thing to me, and either you’re going to take this contract right now, or you’re going to leave the SWF forever. So, you make the choice…

Thugg stands there before the brand new commissioner of the SWF, somewhat bewildered, but more embarrassed than anything. The fans scream for King’s blood, and even Mark Stevens is on the edge of his seat awaiting the wrecking of King’s shit. Alas, after much thought…Thugg snatches the contract from King, who grins in victory…

(King) – That’s what I thought. You made the right choice…

King starts to leave again, and the fans are in total shock at Thugg’s actions. However, just as he reaches the ropes, King whips back around to address Thugg one last time.

(King) – Oh…damn…Just one last thing Thugg…

Thugg, who has been staring at King for quite some time gives an inquisitive look as the fans scream and boo…until…

WHACK!!

(Stevens) – NO!! Son of a bitch!! That’s Frost!! What the hell?!?

HVT drops down to one knee from Frost’s chair shot to the back, and the fans really let the M7 member hear their displeasure with his actions. Thugg arches his back in pain, but a determined Frost wheels the chair back, and…

WHACK!!

(Stevens) – OH!! Another shot!! Right to the back of the head!! This just isn’t right!

Thugg slumps to the floor face first, and Frost stands over the big man, and King heading back to the scene. Frost comes down with a third chair shot on Thugg’s back as King gets down to one knee so that Thugg’s pain-filled eyes can see him.

(King) – That’s such a shame isn’t it? Should’ve “wrecked my shit” when you had the chance…hahahahaha.

Ozzy Osborne’s “Crazy Train” returns to the speakers while the fans boo the actions of King and Frost, and Thugg lays on the mat in pain.

(King) – NO! NO! NO! Cut my music!

Instantly, King’s music is cut off, and the “ASSHOLE” chant can be heard loud and clear.

(King) – Goddammit…play HIS music!! {pointing to Frost}

And, as per his command, “Frost Wants to Kill your Mamma" by Dweezil Zappa hits the speakers. King gives a wink and a smile to Frost, who returns the sentiment with a completely straight face with a hint of rage. King exits the ring first, followed by Frost after having a few choice, inaudible words for Thugg.

(Stevens) – I can’t believe it!! King is commissioner! And his first act is to take out Thugg!! What king of reign will this be!! Who let him be in charge! This is a dark, very dark day for the SWF!!

(Riley) – It’s called a statement. King just made an example out of Thugg! He will tolerate NO insubordination from the talent here in the SWF…and I for one like it!

(Stevens) – I don’t care what you say…this just isn’t right! But if I know Thugg, he will have his vengeance.

Fade to commercial.

January 9, 2003

Stevens: What a great crowd we’ve had tonight, for the return of SWF STORM!

Riley: Speaking of which, tonight’s broadcast is brought to you by EA Sports, it’s in the game.

Stevens: and SWF Strom is also brought to you by Budweiser, the King of Beers.

Riley: Well I don’t know about you Stevens, but I am absolutely dripping with anticipation for the next match of the evening.

Stevens: Huh? While I wouldn’t word it quite like that, I’m also looking forward to tonight’s next match. It’s going to be El Luchadore Magnifico! Tom Flesher! Danny Williams, and Annie Eclectic! All together in a four way match!

Riley: Judging by the pasts of these four, I expect this to be a wild, brutal, and unpredictable match. Annie and Williams hate each other, Flesher and ELM hate each other.

Stevens: Yes, I wouldn’t be surprised if this turned into a tag match. I highly doubt either stable would betray the other, when the title isn’t on the line anyway.

Riley: I don’t about that, Stevens. ELM would be stupid to trust Annie, she’s turned sides so many times, she probably doesn’t even know which stable she’s in.

Suddenly, "I Get Wet" by Andrew W.K. blasts over the loud speakers and the lights in the arena dim.

Stevens: Speaking of which!

A red spotlight appears at the top of ramp, bringing the Hardcore Queen into full view. Eager to get the match started, she takes off down the aisle like a bat out of hell. The crowd applauds wildy, and an “ANNIE!” chant kicks in!

Stevens: Things have not been going to good for Annie in the past couple of weeks. Her last victory was by DQ, and her ribs are practically dust thanks in large part to Danny Williams. Maybe she can turn things around, by picking up a win tonight.

Riley: That’s doubtful, if she couldn’t beat Williams single match, how’s she going to beat him with Flesher watching his back?

Stevens: Well, she has the World Champion watching her back.

Riley: Yeah right, I wouldn’t be surprised if he sat back on the apron, and let the girl take the ass kicking.

“I Get Wet” fades out, replaced with the quiet melodies of In Flames’ “Jester’s Dance!” Williams makes his way down to the ramp, and the crowd precedes to “boo” their asses off.

Riley: Now there is a Champion that the kids can be proud of.

Stevens: The United States Champion is coming off his first successful title defense, and will be looking to use that momentum to carry him through the biggest match of his young career.

Once Williams gets in the ring, Annie charges him with her Booken high over head! Williams instinctively raises his arms and turns his back. SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! Annie doesn’t hesitate to bring the Kendo Sword down on Williams’ back, repeatedly until several officials can pull her off and drag her back to her corner.

Riley: Now what cause was for her to attack him before the bell like that! This is an outrage! She should be disqualified!

Stevens: Annie is most likely turning lose the rage that has been building over the two week break, since her defeat. She’s frustrated and a bit on the edge.

Once order is restored in ring, the SmarkTron goes white with the blue words "SUPERIORTY COMPLEX" and "MAGNIFICENT SEVEN" on it. Then, with an explosion of blue pyro, "Kashmir" by Led Zeppelin bursts out over the loudspeaker. Tom Flesher emerges from the cloud of smoke, striding confidently to the ring as videos of his signature moves alternate in half-second clips with the words "SUPERIOR ONE," "AWARD-WINNING," "MAIN ATTRACTION" and "MAGNIFICENT SEVEN." Flesher enters the ring and poses in the center head bobbing in time with the music, until the symphonic hook at 50 seconds in, which cues a machinegun-like burst of blue and white pyro from each corner.

Riley: Wow, what an entrance! You are looking at the future SWF World Champion, ladies and gentle men.

Stevens: You might very well be right, Riley. But until than the current Champion and possibly one of the greatest World Champions in history is about to make his way down the aisle.

A Mexican voice shouts out, ““UNO! DOS! TRES! CUATRO!””, with each word accompanied by an orange burst of pyro from each turnbuckle. From there, ““Mission Trip to Mexico”” by Bunch of Believers is blasted through the PA, beginning at the chorus of the song. El Luchadore Magnifico bursts out from behind the curtain as the song begins, eliciting a loud cheer from the crowd as he makes his way down the ramp, waving his flag excitedly. The crowd almost hypnotically begins chanting “MAG-NE-FICO!” over and over. With all four wrestlers in the ring, and warming up in their corners, Funyon climbs in with to make the introductions.

Funyon: The following four match is scheduled for one fall and is at a 30 minute time limit. Introducing first, weighing in at 238 pounds, from Lousiville, Kentucky.....HE IS YOUR SWF UNITED STATES CHAMPION........DANNY WILLIAMS!

The crowd’s taunts have no effect on Williams who remains focused and cold, staring holes into Annie Eclectic.

Funynon: Introducing next, standing to my left, weighing in at 213 pounds, he hails from Buffalo, New York...............HE IS THE SUPERIOR ONE.....TOM FLESHEEEEEEEEEER!

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” drowns out all the sound in the arena. But the fans hate doesn’t matter, because Flesher has his golf claps.

Funynon: Standing to my right, weighing in at 175 pounds, hailing Indianapolis, Indiana.......ANNIE ECLECTIC!!!

The mostly male audience, whistles and shouts cat calls as Annie slips off her trench coat, and raises her arms in the air.

Funyon: Introducing last but certainly not least, weighing in at a ready 193 pounds, hailing from Mexico City..........YOUR SWF WORLD CHAMPION.....EL LUCHADORE MAGNIFICOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!

The crowd goes nuts, threatening to tear the building down! ELM acknowledges their cheers by giving his flag a few more waves. ELM and Flesher step out on to the apron, leaving Annie and Williams in the ring. The crowd remains hot, growing more and more impatient.

Stevens: It looks like Annie and Williams are gonna kick things off!

Riley: Good, Maybe Danny can get some pay back from that cowardly ambush before the bell.

DING! DING! DING! The crowd explodes as Williams and Annie rush out of their corners, and start exchanging elbows and punches!

Riley: HERE WE GO!

Stevens: Right at the opening bell, these two are going toe to toe!

Williams gains the upper hand of the brawl, backing Annie into the ropes with numerous elbows to her jaw! Williams grabs hold of Annie’s wrist, and shoots her off the ropes with an Irish whip! Taking position in the center of the ring, Williams draws back his arm to catch Annie with an elbow! But to Williams’ surprise, Annie hangs on to the ropes, stopping herself!

Stevens: Williams going for the elbow..No, Annie puts the breaks on!

Not giving Williams a chance to respond, Annie springs forward and drills him with a Superkick! Smack! Williams blows back into the ropes, only to ricochet off them, right back at Annie! Having seen this before, Annie extends her leg to catch him with another Superkick! But Williams drops to the mat, rolling underneath her leg, and back to his feet!

Riley: Williams, avoiding the Superkick!

Realizing her mistake, Annie spins around, just in time to eat a Jumping High Kick! SMACK! Annie hits the mat like a sack of bricks, while the shocked crowd sympathizes with an “oh”. Flesher awards Williams’ cleverness with some claps, while ELM just cringes.

Riley: THE DYNAMIC KICK! ANNIE IS OUT COLD!

Stevens: Despite both wrestlers knowing each so well, Williams still manages to stay one step ahead of Annie. This four way battle has gotten off to a fast and furious start!

Williams pulls the delirious hardcore queen to up by her tights, and locks his fingers around her stomach with a rear waistlock!

Riley: He’s setting her up for a GERMAN!

Williams lifts Annie off the mat, and bends his knees for the bridge! The crowd’s gasps suddenly morphs into cheers, as Annie kicks off the ropes just as Williams bridges back! Thump! Annie lands on top of Williams, knocking the wind out of him!

Stevens: NO, Annie escapes with the same counter she used at!

Without a moment to lose, Annie rolls to ELM’s corner, and makes the tag! The crowd blows the roof off the building as ELM spring boards into the ring, assaulting Williams with a fury of stiff Knife Edge Chops as he gets up! SMACK! “Wooooooooo!” SMACK “Wooooooo!” SMACK! “Wooooooo!” His chest on fire, Williams staggers back into the ropes in agony. ELM sends Williams running with an Irishwhip, catching him on the rebound with a hard Dropkick to the chest! Williams stumbles backwards into Flesher’s corner, who of course tags himself in! “Booooooooooooooo!” moans the thousands in attendance, as Flesher rushes into the ring. ELM leaps back to his feet, but Flesher hits him with the Running High Kick as he gets up! Smack! Flesher’s boot catches ELM right underneath chin, sending him right back to the mat!

Riley: Flesher scores with the Yakuza Kick! The champ is down!

Stevens: But where’s he going?

After landing his signature kick, Flesher surprisingly doesn’t stop running. Instead of stopping, Flesher charges Annie, who is still dazed on the apron. Flesher gets in range, catching Annie off guard with a.......................tap on the shoulder!

Stevens: Flesher, tagging in Annie?

Riley: What a genius are next World Champion is? Force the Carnies to fight out while he just sits back and enjoys the show.

Annie gives Flesher a puzzled look, and than cautiously enters the ring while Flesher steps out. Very confused, Annie pauses for a second, pondering on a way out of this mess. ELM has no clue where he is, barley able to crawl to his hands and knees.

Stevens: But why would Annie attack her stable mate, when the two people she despises the most are standing on the apron.

Riley: Because Flesher has put the World Champion in a vulnerable position to where almost anyone could get the jump on him, even a garbage wrestler like Annie. A pinfall victory over the World Champ, could do wonders for her ailing career.

Annie looks to the crowd for an answer, the majority of which are shaking their heads “No!”. Coming to a conclusion on what to do, Annie just crosses her arms and waits, while ELM starts crawling towards Williams’ corner.

Stevens: She’s gonna let ELM tag Williams!

Riley: What a stupid move!

As ELM inches closer towards Williams, Annie as well as the crowd starts to get more and more fired up. In fact, Annie is so concentrated on Williams, she doesn’t realize that Flesher has reentered the ring. Smack! Flesher whacks Annie in the back of head with a stiff Shotei, that sends her tumbling to the floor! “Boooooooooooo!” cries the outraged fans. Ignoring Soapdish’s order to get out of the ring, Flesher pulls Annie up by her wrist and whips her into the cross corner which just happens to be occupied by Williams! Annie’s back hits the turnbuckles with bone crushing impact! Thump! Williams taps Annie on the shoulder, tagging himself in to a chorus of boos. While Soapdish tries to make the barely conscious Annie exit the ring, Williams kicks the vulnerable Champ right in the face! Smack!

Stevens: God, what a shot!

Riley: More brilliant quick thinking by the future World Champ! Since Annie wouldn’t attack ELM like he planned, he forced her to tag in Williams, who obviously isn’t tied down by such emotions.

Williams helps ELM to his feet, pushes him into the ropes, and whips him off! Instead of bouncing off the opposite ropes like Williams intended, ELM knocks Flesher off the apron with a surprise Dropkick! Williams rushes ELM, who returns to a vertical base with a beautiful kip up! Williams extends an arm for his Hooking Lariat, but ELM ducks underneath him, sending Williams over the top rope with a Back Body Drop! Williams and Flesher make it back to their feet at the same time, not noticing that ELM has spring boarded on to the top rope until it’s too late! With no concern for his own body, ELM dives down on both men, taking them both out with a Body Press! The crowd goes absolutely nuts, and a frantic “MAG-NE-FICO!” chant breaks out!

Stevens: With an amazing combination of moves, the World Champ has taking over this match!

Riley: Not to mention, he cowardly attacked an illegal man!

ELM rolls Williams back into the ring, and jumps on to the apron. Once Williams climbs to his feet, ELM slams his boots into his back with a stiff Springboard Dropkick! Not waiting for Flesher to recover, ELM takes the opportunity to tightly hook Williams’ leg for the pin.

ONE!

TWO!

Williams escapes with a strong kick out, zapping the life out of the crowd! Needing to catch his breath, ELM traps Williams in a front facelock, and walks him into Annie’s corner. ELM tags Annie in, and they switch off on the front facelock. Annie pulls Williams to the center of the ring, tosses his arm over her shoulder, and slams him to the mat with a thunderous Snap Suplex! BOOM! Meanwhile, Flesher has made his way back to the apron. Annie scrambles back to her feet, and blows a kiss to the crowd.

Stevens: Annie fixing to give Williams a Drop Kiss!

Sore from the Suplex, Williams painfully climbs up to one knee. Annie carefully takes aim, and fires her trademark seated Dropkick! Williams rolls out of the way just in time, letting Annie splat on the mat! Williams doesn’t stop rolling, until he reaches Flesher’s corner, and tags him in! Her face contorted in pain, Annie is slow to get up.

Riley: Annie may have went for the Drop Kiss a little early. You really have to catch someone by surprise to hit it.

Flesher charges into the ring, slamming his palm underneath Annie’s chin as she gets up! Annie flies a good a couple of feet into the air, before crash landing on the mat! Flesher shakes his arm out, and shoots a grin at ELM.

Stevens: Flesher having fun now, forcing ELM to watch as he takes apart his stable mate.

The Superior One pulls Annie up by her hair, and sends her into the ropes! The crowd “ohs” in unison as Flesher catches Annie under the chin with a Shotei that nearly rips her head off! Flesher forces Annie up by her tights, steps behind her and crosses her arms in front of her stomach!

Riley: Flesher, tying Annie up for the Straight Jacket Suplex!

Stevens: That’s one of the most difficult moves to kick out from, since it prevents you from using your arms to escape.

Annie instinctively darts for the ropes, managing to get a boot around the bottom rope. Not wanting Soapdish to jump down his throat, Flesher releases Annie’s arms. Annie cautiously turns around, but her reflexes are still slow from taking the stiff Shoteis! SMACK! SMACK! Flesher knocks Annie’s head from side to side with some more Shoteis as she turns around! With the Hardcore Queen dazed, Flesher whips her off the ropes, and catches her in a waistlock on the rebound! With a mighty heave, Flesher tosses Annie’s frail body high over head! THUMP! Annie lands so hard that she actually bounces off the mat!

Riley: What a throw, did you see how high Annie bounced?

Stevens: Annie is getting killed in there, she is just no match for the number one contender. She needs to make the tag to ELM or even Williams.

With a huge smirk on his face, Flesher drags Annie up by her tights, and hooks her arms up in a straight jacket! The crowd “ahs” as Flesher perfectly bridges back on his tippy toes, slamming Annie’s head into the mat!

Riley: BEAUTIFUL STRAIGHT JACKET SUPLEX!

Stevens: This could be it!

Flesher holds the bridge, and Soapdish starts the count!

ONE!

TWO!

TWO1/2....

NO! ELM stomps Flesher’s gut, breaking up the bridge! Flesher bitches at Soapdish, but ELM leaves the ring in time so there’s nothing he can do. While shouting insults at ELM, Flesher pulls Annie up....Crack! Annie shrugs his hands off, and pops him with a stiff right hook! Flesher responds with a combo of very stiff Shoteis to the jaw that sends her crumbling to the mat! Flesher grabs a front facelock, and walks Annie to Williams’ corner! Flesher tags him in, and Williams makes sure to crack her in the ribs with a kick as he comes in! Annie’s knee’s buckle, as the burning pain in her ribs that she’s all too familiar with returns.

Stevens: Deja vu for poor Annie. It seems the winter break wasn’t enough time for her to get at 100% health.

Riley: This is getting ridiculous, Annie needs to take some time off and let those ribs heal. I just can’t comprehend while someone would willingly put their body through that, night after night

Williams holds Annie’s head down by her hair, and starts bashing her gut with a flurry of knees! After ten straight knees, Williams releases her, letting her drop to the mat in agony. Never being one to have mercy, Williams draws back his boot, and gives Annie a hard kick to the gut! Crack! Annie rolls over on her back, grimacing in pain. Sensing she needs’ their support, the crowd starts to chant Annie’s name over and over. With Annie laying prone on her back, Williams hops up on the second turnbuckle, and brings a heavy knee down on her forehead! The surprised crowd gasps, as Annie shoves Williams off, and spasms around on the mat like she’s having a seizure. Williams tries to grab hold of her for the pin, but she manages to roll out of the ring.

Stevens: She’s hurt, she’s hurt bad.

Riley: Even though this is a four way match, Williams and Flesher are now cleverly operating like a tag team.

Stevens: Indeed they are, they have isolated Annie, picked out a weakness, and are wearing her down.

Williams follows her out, finding her laying first down on the mat. Williams pulls Annie up by her hair, and hooks her up in a front facelock. Williams kicks his legs out, and falls back! Thump! Williams lands hard on the floor all by himself, while Annie remains standing with the aid of the guardrail! The crowd claps, while Annie rolls into the ring, and makes the tag to ELM! Not even bothering to make climb into the ring, ELM runs down the apron to where Williams is. He waits for Williams to make it to his feet, than he spring boards off the second rope, pan caking Williams into the guardrail with a jaw dropping Asai Moonsault! Clank! ELM flips over into the crowd, slapping a few hands with the fans before climbing over.

Riley: Damn, I’m surprised that Williams didn’t break his back!

Stevens: This match has been nothing but non stop action from the start!

After rolling Williams back into the ring, ELM ascends the turnbuckles. By the time ELM reaches the top rope, Williams reaches a vertical base. Flash photography lights up the arena as ELM dives off the apron, catches Williams in a facelock! ELM uses the momentum of the fall to spin Williams around, and slam his head into the mat with a brutal DDT! Thump! ELM quickly grabs a leg for the pin!

ONE!

TWO!

TWO1/2!

NO! Flesher breaks up the pin with a stiff double stomp to ELM’s back! “Booooooooooooooooooo!” echoes through the arena. Holding his back, ELM painfully climbs back to his feet. ELM takes a moment for the pain to die down, before helping Williams to his feet. Crack! Williams desperately fights back with an Elbow Smash! Smack! But ELM returns fire with a stiff knife edge chop! Williams sucks it up, and summons the power for another Elbow Smash! Crack! ELM wobbles a little, but still manages to slice Williams with another chop! Smack! Williams back paddles into the ropes, and launches himself at ELM! Williams extends his arm for the Running Elbow, but finds himself face down on the mat before he can land it, courtesy of an ELM drop toe hold! ELM keeps Williams’ legs grapevined, and snaps a cross face on the trapped U.S. Champ! Williams screams in agony, and starts clawing at the mat in hopes of pulling himself to the ropes!

Riley: THE SANGRIA STRETCH!

Stevens: ELM made Williams tap to this in a three way match involving Sacred not to long ago!

Knowing the history between ELM and Williams as well as Stevens, Flesher rushes into the ring to make the save! But Annie is way ahead of him, darting across the ring, and trapping him in the Crossface Chickenwing as he enters!

Stevens: Things not looking good for M7!

Riley: Damn those Carnie bastards, this is suppose to be a four way!

With Williams ready to tap at any moment, the screaming fans rise to their feet. Soapdish asks Williams if he wants to call it a night, but Williams manages “no” in between screams! Meanwhile Annie has pulled Flesher down to the mat with a body scissors! Determined not to tap again, Williams starts pulling himself towards the ropes! ELM tries to keep Williams’ tied up, but it’s no use...Williams makes the ropes! ELM releases Williams, and the crowd dies down. Annie also releases Flesher, who has passed out from the modified Sleeper. Annie returns to her corner, while ELM drags Williams up and Scoop Slams him near the corner. Jumping up and down with their arms raised in the air, the pumped fans cheer ELM on as he climbs out on to the apron and ascends the turnbuckles.

Stevens: ELM, GOING UP STAIRS! Perhaps will see the Mexican Pride Press!

Camera flashes illuminate the arena as ELM balances himself on the top rope and prepares to take flight! But Williams is up sooner than the Champ expected, and it doesn’t take long for him to spot ELM in the vulnerable position! With unusual quickness, Williams jumps up on to the second rope, and starts hammering ELM’s mid section with elbows! In great pain and not wanting to fall to his death, ELM takes a seat on the top turnbuckle! Now in better range, Williams fires an elbow at ELM’s face! But ELM blocks and counters with a flurry of headbutts! With Williams dazed, ELM dives over him, catching him by his waist on the way down, slamming him into the mat with a brutal Sit-out Powerbomb! KA-BOOM! The entire arena shakes from the impact, while the amazed crowd gives a standing ovation!

Stevens: TEQUILA SUNRISE! TEQUILA SUNRISE! TEQUILA SUUUUUUUUUUUNRISE!

Riley: WILLIAMS IS DEAD!

Soapdish starts the count, while the crowd screams along!

“ONE!”

“TWO!”

“THREE!”

NO! The crowd sighs as Soapdish raises only two fingers in the air, apparently Williams stretched a leg over the second rope!

Riley: Damn, that was close.

Stevens: I thought for sure, he had him!

Disappointed, ELM drags the barely conscious U.S. Champ to his feet, Scoop Slams him near the corner, and steps out on to the ring apron. ELM starts to climb the turnbuckles, while the crowd goes apeshit once again! Upon reaching the top rope, ELM stalls for a second to allow the fans to immortalize the image with flash photography. Not wasting another second, ELM leaps off the top rope, performing a beautiful somersault before squashing Williams with a body splash!

Stevens: HE HIT IT! IT’S OVER! IT’S OVER!

Once again the pumped crowd screams along with Soapdish’s count!

“ONE!”

“TWO!”

“THREE!”

NO! A revitalized Flesher saves Williams from the pin, with another Double Stomp to ELM’s back! Soapdish forces Flesher back to his corner, while ELM painfully climbs to his feet. Annie is hopping up and down, demanding a tag, so ELM gives her one! Annie is greeted with an “Annie!” BOOM! BOOM! “Annie!” chant, as she steps into the ring. Annie helps the near dead champion to his feet, and shoves his head down between her legs. Annie ties Williams’ arms up with a double underhook, causing the crowd to go ecstatic!

Stevens: Annie, positioning Williams for the DAYBREAK! Now more than ever, Annie has the chance to finally pin Williams, and exercise the demon that has been tormenting her for the past two months!

Suddenly, Flesher springs into the ring, and slams his boot into Annie’s face with a High Kick! SMACK! The impact knocks Annie off Williams, sending her crumbling to the mat! Flesher marches back over to his corner to the accompaniment of an “Asshooooooooole!” chant.

Riley: Flesher saves the day, once more!

Stevens: It’s as if some higher power is protecting Williams from the Daybreak! Despite Annie’s best efforts, she just hasn’t been able to hit it when she needs it the most.

Crawling on his hands and knees with his head down, Williams finds his way to his corner, tagging in Flesher! By this time, Annie has made to her feet, staggering towards ELM with her arm extended for the tag. Annie gets within inches when Flesher snaps a rear waistlock on her! Flesher bridges back, tossing Annie into the air! Thump! Annie lands hard on the back of her skull, causing her body to gruesomely fold up! The shocked crowd grows silent.

Riley: RELEASE GERMAAAAAAAAAAAAN!

Stevens: That move has been a bad omen for Annie in past few months, playing a key role in her defeats at the hands of Danny Williams.

Flesher pulls Annie’s legs back, and jerks her up by her wrist. The Superior One tucks his head underneath her arm pit, and pulls her up with a waistlock! “GAH!” cries Flesher as he lifts Annie up, twists her upside down, and drives her into the mat with a sick Sit-out Powerbomb!

Riley: BLUE THUNDER BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMB!

Flesher brings his legs down over Annie’s arms, holding her lifeless body in place for the pin!

ONE!

TWO!

TWO1/2

NO! Annie kicks out just before Soapdish can bring his hand down! With an annoyed look on his face, Flesher drags Annie up by her hair, and traps her in a Gut Wrench! Flesher lifts Annie upside, and sits out, spiking the top of her skull into the mat! Thump!

Riley: EGO BUSTAH! EGO BUSTAH! EGO BUSTAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!

Stevens: DEAR GOD, HE BROUGHT HER DOWN RIGHT ON HER HEAD!

Flesher drags Annie’s body from the ropes, and covers her for the pin!

ONE!

TWO!

TWO1/2...

TWO3/4....

NO! ELM speeds into the ring, literally running right over Flesher to break up the pin! Soapdish tries to force him to leave the ring, but the World Champ refuses. ELM pulls the stunned M7 leader up, and hooks him up for a Fisherman Suplex! ELM lifts Flesher up, and plants his cranium into the mat! THUMP!

Stevens: BARRIO BUSTAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!

Riley: Damn it, Ref! Get him out of the ring!

With his job done, ELM finally follows Soapdish’s order to leave the ring. Flesher and Annie are both out on their backs, while the crowd chants “ANNIE!” CLAP! CLAP! “ANNIE!”. The crowd picks up an intensity, as Annie opens her eyes and starts to show signs of life. With trembling legs, Annie stumbles to her feet! Williams lets out a furious growl, and marches into the ring! Soapdish tries to restrain him, only to get shoved out of the way! “Behind you!” warns ELM. Annie spins around, just in time to eat a Rolling Elbow! CRACK! After laying Annie out, Williams quickly shuffles his feet into a another spin, catching ELM off guard with a second Rolling Elbow! CRACK! ELM flies off the apron, and down into the guardrail! Clank! As ELM sinks to the floor on the outside, Williams drags Flesher to his corner, and shamelessly tags himself in! The crowd brings a combination of jeers and boos down upon the ring, as Williams enters the ring.

Riley: Well, that’s one way of doing it!

Stevens: Everyone is down, can Williams take the advantage and pull off the upset victory!

Williams controls Annie’s corpse up enough to position her in a standing head scissors. Williams locks his fingers around Annie’s waist, squats low to the mat, and lifts Annie into the air with ease! Williams gets Annie on his shoulders, doubles over deep, violently slamming her into the mat with ring shaking power! BOOM!

Riley: DEATHBOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMB!!!

Stevens: IT’S OVER! IT’S OVER!

Williams folds Annie’s broken body in half, and leans over on his tippy toes for the pin!

ONE!

TWO!

TWO1/2.....

TWO3/4.......

NO! With inhuman speed, ELM dives into the ring, and pushes Williams off Annie’s carcass! The dead crowd comes back to life with an eruption of cheers, but a resurrected Flesher silences the crowd by dropping ELM with a Dropkick to the knee! Acting quickly, Flesher crosses ELM’s ankles, and rolls him over into the Superior Stretch! “Finisher her Danny” orders Flesher. Not needing to be told twice, Williams sits Annie up, and tucks his head underneath her arm pit. Williams stands up, pulling Annie’s limp corpse up with him.

Riley: He’s setting her up for the DANGEROUS BACKDROP!

Stevens: What a heart breaker, once again Annie is going to fall to Danny Williams.

Her head and free arm lifelessly hanging down, giving Annie the appearance of being a corpse. Williams snaps back with a high angle bridge, driving Annie’s neck and shoulders into the mat! THUMP! Williams crawls over on Annie’s carcass, and just lays on her for the pin!

ONE!

TWO!

TWO1/2....

TWO3/4.......

THREE!

DING! DING! DING!

Soapdish holds up Williams’ arm, and the crowd shows their approval by lowering their thumbs. Flesher releases ELM, and climbs up to the second turnbuckle with his arms raised in the air, celebrating it’s his victory as well.

Funyon: The winner of the match by pinfall at 13 minutes and 22 seconds.......DANNY WILLIAMSsssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss!!!

Flesher raises Williams’ arm, increasing the volume of the fans’ jeers. Some doctors rush into the ring, and start working on Annie, who still hasn’t woke up. A worried ELM hobbles over to them, and watches on.

Stevens: Sadly Annie’s quest to get some pay back on Danny Williams once again ends with tragedy.

Riley: What a match! Even though we expected it to turn into a M7 vs. Midnight Carnival affair, we did not expect for it to be such an action packed, fast paced match!

Stevens: I have to agree, that was one of the most exciting and breath taking matches I have ever witnessed on a non Pay Per View show! Fans we still have not even got to the Main Event yet, so stay tuned for Orochi vs Frost. We’ll be right back!

January 9, 2003

As we come back from commercial break, the camera comes upon Danny Williams, participant in the Four Corners Semi Main Event Match mere minutes ago. He walks slightly unsteadily through the corridors of Nationwide Arena, sweat covering his body, the United States Title resting on his shoulder and Tom Flesher probably already at the locker room, after a grueling contest. ‘Deathwish’ shakes off whatever small discomfort he’s still feeling and turns the corner, because in his mind, champions don’t feel pain and should never let on if they do.

Williams, most likely on his way to the Magnificent 7 locker room also, looks down the hallway and spots the swaggering frame of a smirking kid with blue sunglasses. Danny continues on with his pace, walking straight ahead and directly into the path of Mak Francis!

Francis’s pace doesn’t waver as he steps in time with Williams. And of course since neither man gave any ground they collide, bumping shoulders. Williams quickly spins to face Francis, but Mak is the first one to speak.

“My bad…” says Mak, his smirk ever present in response to Williams’s quick turn. The two men stand a foot or two apart after their collision. “What’s with all the hostilities, champ?”

“You really think you’re something special,” starts Williams, calmly looking up and staring Francis dead in the eyes, “don’t ya’ hotshot!” Danny shrugs his shoulder giving Mak a good look at the US title in his possession. “Frost has a match that I’am going to watch, so I’ll have to hold off on this ass kicking you seem to be searching for rook. Maybe YOU should scout one of the tag champs, so that if you ever get to them, Flesher won’t MAKE… YOU… TAP-”

And that quickly pushes Mak’s button as he cuts Williams off. “Well Danny-boy, maybe I just wanted to let YOU know,” says Mak, while pushing his shades down onto the bridge of his nose, giving Danny a good look at his brown eyes, “that while Ced and I are working towards another shot at the Tag Titles…” Francis smirks. “Whether you think it’s a ‘Deathwish’ or not I’M…” emphasizes the self proclaimed Franchise, as he taps the title belt on Williams shoulder, “…looking for my first shot at THAT!”

Mak looks to poke the belt one last time for effect, but Williams swats the finger away without much effort. Francis’s glare from the act goes back into a smirk, as he turns and continues down the hallway. Meanwhile Williams ‘hmmps’ and carries on toward the Mag 7’s locker room. The camera waves back and forth between the fading images of both mean, while Riley contemplates what just went down.

“What the hell was that all about?” questions Riley. “Did Mak just do what I think he did?”

“I think that answers pretty obvious Bobby.” Response Stevens while shaking his head. “We’ve got the M7’s Frost versus the current ICTV champion Orochi, in our non title main event, coming up… NEXT!”

January 9, 2003

“Son of a bitch!”

HVT walks the corridor backstage, his duffel bag slung over his left shoulder, and his right hand holding the back of his head. He walks much faster than usual, and by the looks of things, is headed to the parking lot.

“I swear…I don’t need this shit.”

Determined, Thugg approaches the parking lot exit, but as he’s about to leave, his cell phone rings in his bag. Thugg drops his back to the floor, unzips it, and begins rummaging for his phone. Upon finding it, he flips it open and puts it to his hear…

“Yo.”

“Who dis?”

“Yo, speak up bro, I can hardly hear you.”

Silence ensues as Thugg does he best to listen to the person at the other end of the phone, even putting a finger in his other ear at some points to hear a little better. As moment passes, Thugg’s face grows angrier and angrier…

“Yo, I don’t know who the fuck you are…but why don’t you mind your damn business. You don’t know me like that, what gives you the right to tell me how I need to handle my business with Frost?”

“I ain’t lettin’ nobody punk me out yo…especially not that fagot.”

“Yo, for real…unless you gonna tell me who you are and stand face to face with me, I suggest you mind your damn business. Now, if you’ll excuse me…I’m leaving.”

“I can barely hear you man. Did you just say that I’m fakin’ and if I don’t blast him tonight, then I’m a punk?”

“Yo…listen cuz…I don’t know who you are or why you’re botherin’ me…but why don’t you let me handle my own business on my own time, and you handle your business on YOUR time.”

“You know what…aight. Since you seem to be so keen on my stompin’ Frost tonight, why don’t you come down and watch. And when I’m done makin’ him my bitch, I’ll wreck your shit too.”

“Yeah…you can bet on that bitch.”

::click::

Thugg flips his phone shut, holding it near his face for just a second while he processes the conversation he just had. He takes a glance around before snatching up his bag and heading back into the heart of the arena, an action that draws considerable applause from the fans at ringside.

(Stevens) – Who was that on the phone with Thugg?

(Riley) – More importantly, did Thugg just say that he was going to interfere in the main event coming up?

(Stevens) – Hmmmm…well, we’ll just have wait and see, now won’t we? Orochi…Frost…Main Event…IT’S NEXT!

January 9, 2003

The screen fades to the image of the intrepid interviewer of the SWF, Ben Hardy, standing next to Judge Mental in the Magnificent 7’s Locker Room. He wears only a pair of black “Magnificent 7” Warm up pants it looks as if Hardy caught the Judge just as he got out of the shower as he dries his hair with a red towel. Hardy begins to speak as Mental goes over his head and face with the towel.

“Well, Judge, we wanted to see you after you match to get some response on Annie Eclectic’s comments about you and-”

He stops rubbing his head and tosses the towel aside and looks at Hardy.

“Comments? What comments?”

“At the beginning of the show she said that you shouldn’t even be in the running for the Hardcore Belt because, simply put, you aren’t hardcore at all. Now Judge, I have to agree-”

“Hardy, I could care less with what you think, so please don’t try putting your own useless opinion in. And I care even less about Annie Eclectic and what she thinks ‘Hardcore’ is. ‘Hardcore’ wrestling is an utter disservice to our profession and is what stops us from being taken seriously as a real sport.”

“I don’t really follow your logic, Judge…”

“Think about it: Why do sports columnists always berate our form of wrestling? Because of unskilled and uncivilized people like her who prefer to bring chairs to the ring rather than talent. Really, I can’t blame them for not finding a table match something that requires skill, but serious wrestlers like Tom Flesher, Danny Williams, Ejiro Fasaki, Fugue, and I are dismissed as garbage athletes along with them.”

“Judge, I really don’t think that Annie is a garbage wr-”

“Hardy, she’s a garbage wrestler. She knows a submission hold or two, but she always goes back to her amateurish brawling and her kendo sticks. Look at the hardcore division right now: Alex Zenon, whose only purpose here seems to be to bleed on things, Michael Craven, a pathetic excuse for a wrestler who actually built up whatever small bit of self-dignity he had left to abandon one of the most embarrassing gimmicks ever, and Annie Eclectic, a person who was beaten down time and time again by a REAL wrestler, Danny Williams.”

“So Judge, I take it you aren’t ‘Hardcore’?” Mental gives a condescending scoff and goes on.

“Ben, I’m more hardcore than that entire group. I’m a real hardcore wrestler. I prefer the purest form of the sport, which is exactly what ‘hardcore’ means. I want things like Submission Matches, 2/3 Falls Matches, Iron Man Matches, Canadian Deathmatches, and others types of the same vein. These are things that show off the better sides of wrestling and require skill, strategy, and stamina, which is what I fully intend to show off in my run for the Hardcore Title.” With that, Mental walks out of the camera’s view and leaves Ben Hardy to finish up.

“Well, it looks like Judge Mental had some… interesting opinions about the condition of Hardcore wrestling. We’ll see if we can get more on this later, but back to the arena for Orochi vs. Frost, No Holds Barred!”

January 9, 2003

The camera flickers back to life to highlight the outside of the Nationwide Arena in Columbus, Ohio. “SWF STORM SOLD OUT*” is written huge on a marquee with “*of nachos” written in teeny, tiny letters below it.

“Everyone’s in scarlet and gray and been doing Buckeyes chants all nights. You’d think these humanoids hadn’t won a National Championship in over thirty years…oh, wait.” sarcastically drips a familiar voice over the scene.

“That’s not nice to say if we ever want to come back here.” Mark Stevens can be seen saying to Bobby Riley as one shot transitions to the next.

“Why would we want to come back here? Columbus, Ohio, city motto ‘We wish we were Toledo.’” Riley spikes a half eaten bear claw on the table with a scarily loud thump.

“You’re putting a very harsh tone to what has been one of the best Storms in recent memory.” Stevens tries to cover.

“Who the hell are you, the guy from Memento now?” Bobby blurts out, growing more and more exasperated.

“True, we’ve been on break since the middle of last month, but the SWF is getting back on track tonight.” Stevens says with a smile, desperately trying to keep some positive vibes going.

“Almost the whole production staff hasn’t come back from Christmas break yet. Who has returned wants to still be on vacation and don’t give a damn. I feel like I’m in the dance band on the Titanic.” Bobby takes a drink of coffee and makes the sourest of faces.

“You are experienced with going down.” Mark quips.

Riley spits out a thin mist and gags. “I can’t get good coffee, I can’t get good snacks,” he holds up the half eaten bear claw. “All we have in the back are these leftovers from the cancelled show last month at the Dunkin’ Donuts Arena. ‘Sorry the show isn’t happening have some pecan rolls.’”

“You’re not going to those anger management classes anymore are you?” Stevens sighs and shakes his head.

“F*ck off you Joe Pepitone wannabe.”

The camera sweeps around to find Funyon in the ring as he readies for his last introductions of the night.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” he traditionally starts “it is time for our main event.” A light pop accompanies the announcement, but doesn’t last as “Hikari” by Hikaru Utada oozes from the sound system and piercing white light blinds the audiences’ eyes. Even the televisions across the country are filled with nothing save the white void, which gradually fades to reveal an eerie figure with arms spread wide at the top of the entrance ramp.

“From Aechiba, Japan at a weight of 245 pounds. He is the ICTV Champion, OR…OCH…IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII!” Funyon booms out to even louder jeers.

Riley: “Nice tattoos, has Hakushi sued him for gimmick infringement yet?”

Orochi glides majestically down the ramp toward the ring, the sick smile of a sadist enjoying his personal pain plastered on his lips, his snow white hair hanging coy over one eye. He raps a fist on the hard metal faceplate of the belt around his waist to remind the world of who the champion is.

Riley: “Actually with the white hair and the scars on his torso, Frost could sue him too.”

Stevens: “I don’t think suing is Frost’s style. However, Orochi is going to have to get his head straight if he wants to survive tonight against the Velvet Hammer. As we saw by the very strange no contest match at the last ppv, the former Thoth seems to be a little out of synch with the real world and he hasn’t been the same person since the name change.”

Riley: “Technically he isn’t. I wonder what his driver license reads?”

Orochi makes a short leap to the ring apron and climbs between the ropes. He spins around with his arms out to encompass the crowd, offering them to come into his “love.”

The melodious Japanese pop gives way to wailing American guitars, but the chorus of audience boos stays consistent.

“And his opponent,” Funyon continues “tipping the scales at 296 pounds and hailing from Reykjavik, Iceland. He is one half of the SWF Tag Team Champions and a member of the Magnificent 7, the Velvet Hammer, FRRRRRROOOOOOOOSSSSSSSSSSST!”

The Icelandic Iceman strides confidently from behind the backstage curtain, a thick cigar between his broad lips and his tag belt around his even broader waist. He pauses momentarily at the top of the ramp to survey the crowd and hoists a defiantly clinched fist in the air. His gaze then locks in on the ring and he lowers his arm to point a menacing finger at his upcoming victim.

Stevens: “Frost emerges from the back, very cocky from taking out the Hville Thugg earlier this evening.”

Riley: “I don’t know why a washed up has been like HVT would want to lock horns with a young bull like Frost. Well, he is retarded, but I don’t like using that as an excuse.”

Stevens: “Having sat out SWF Holds Down Christmas, Frost should be very rested coming into tonight’s battle and very hungry to gain a win and a title shot.”

Riley: “I don’t see why the ICTV Title isn’t on the line tonight. It’s just like what Frost was talking about earlier, everyone is holding him down and doesn’t want to give him the proper due.”

Stevens: “That list includes your boy Tom Flesher. Rumors have it that he had Frost put into that U.S. title number one contendership match last month to keep him out of the world title picture and maneuvered for him to set out the ppv to stay out of a high profile match up.”

Riley: “You’re trying to stir up the trouble, just like a Carnie. Flesher and Frost are completely copasetic with each other. Frost wasn’t at the SWF Holds Down Christmas, because it was against his cultural upbringing.”

Stevens: “Iceland doesn’t have Christmas?”

Riley: “Nah, they’re one of them Scandinavian type countries, sort of, kind of, I guess, they have the Feast of Buffy St. Marie or something like that up there.”

Stevens: “Bobby Riley: Icelandic Bureau Chief of Culture and Tourism.”

Frost unhooks his belt as he reaches the ringside area and hands it off to a ring attendant already holding the ICTV title. Frost takes the singles belt from the young ladies hands and holds it aloft to take a good look. Orochi’s usual calm is broken and he screams at referee Sexton Hardcastle to make Frost put it down and enter the ring.

Riley: “Frost is just making sure he won’t be inheriting damaged goods come next week.”

Stevens: “While the fans are against both men in this contest, you Bobby appear to have a favorite in the big man.”

Riley: “I dig Orochi, but he’s flirted with being a fan favorite. Frost has ALWAYS been a mean son of a bitch. I respect that.”

Frost hands the belt back over and takes his cigar out of his mouth. He hovers the lit BUTT a scant few inches over the gleaming surface of the strap. Orochi has finally had enough and blows past Hardcastle to leap between the ropes to the floor.

DING DING DING

The ring attendant scampers away and Frost drops his still smoldering cigar to the floor mats. He throws a right hand to catch Orochi off guard as he lands flat on his feet, but his sharp martial arts reflexes allows him to block the punch with a forearm and throw a right of his own to his opponent’s jaw.

Stevens: “Threatening his title belt was the last straw for the ICTV Champion and we’re going to begin what promises to be a wild contest on the floor.”

Frost spins around from the punch and stumbles away holding the side of his battered face. Orochi presses forward to pin Frost against the side of the ring with his body and fires down a series of elbows to the back of the big man’s neck.

Riley: “Let us remind everyone that this battle is NO HOLD’S BARRED! No dq, no count out, shoot the moon and bring the kitchen sink.”

Stevens: “Orochi is bringing it right now as he drives Frost to his knees. Ooo…a high angled knee thrust to the face and Frost is on his back.”

Riley: “That’s where Sydney Sky likes him.”

Orochi measures his stunned adversary on the ground and drops with a knife chop to the throat. Frost rolls over gagging and spitting and massaging his struck windpipe. He scoots on all fours away from Orochi, but the Balancer calmly lets him crawl with precise cool.

Stevens: “Orochi stalking from behind…knee drop to the kidneys! He rolls to his feet and Frost is hurting after the bell has hardly sounded.”

Riley: “This is exactly what Orochi needs to do to win. Stay calm, cool and collected while delivering well timed punishment.”

Orochi scurries to the ring apron and stands to face the hissing throng. He holds his arms out with that wicked smile sneaking back on his face.

Stevens: “Hardcastle is pleading for Orochi to move it back inside the ring…”

Riley: “Doesn’t matter, it’s NO HOLDS BARRED!”

Stevens: “Still, a pinfall or submission must happen inside the squared circle. The Champion is lining up another knee drop, but he’s giving the Icelander way too much time to recover.”

Orochi skips into the air and tucks his leg up to expose the pointy knob of his knee. He hangs in the air for the briefest of seconds, denying gravity on his own terms before plummeting toward his dazed adversary. Frost rolls to his side and dives to the right to just miss the blow! Orochi lands with an echoing crack and falls on his back, clutching his knee!

Riley: “Quite prophetic, got a Super Bowl pick I can bet on?”

Stevens: “I’m not really a football guy…how about…the Boise Brainsmashers?”

Riley: “I believe that’s an indoor lacrosse team.”

Stevens: “Eh, same difference.”

Frost pulls himself up by the guardrail and is now the one coolly examining his prey. He sends a calculated stomp to the exposed knee. Orochi howls in pain and rolls to his stomach.

Stevens: “Orochi is hunched over cradling that knee. Frost bends over to grab a waistlock and…DEADLIFTS HIM STRAIGHT OFF THE FLOOR! Tremendous strength by the two time tag champ!”

Frost holds Orochi over his shoulder in the position of a backdrop suplex. He twists a quarter turn to face and crowd and brusquely flicks the former Clan member forward to strike the guardrail gut first! The fans audibly cringe and Frost shouts obscenities at them while Orochi lies folded in half on the unforgiving steel.

Riley: “Neither man’s a speed demon or a suicidal freak like some people’s El Luchadore Magnificoes. Frost has to have the same game plan as Orochi: precise, well-measured blinding pain delivered in the right doses.”

Stevens: “Frost is driving forearms into the back, further hammering the abdominal area on that metal post. Orochi was using his personal skill to dish out the torture, but Frost is using any weapon at his disposal.”

Frost reaches behind the gate to take Orochi’s right ankle and lifts his leg up a few inches before slamming it knee first into the guardrail. Orochi’s whole body shakes and he moans with the audience following suit. He finally throws his weight forward and slides over the rail to a heap on the floor. The referee continues his fruitless pleas and Frost glares at Sexton over his shoulder with contempt. He reaches down to ratchet Orochi up by his bleached white locks and puts a hand on his rear. Frost pushes forward with his barbaric muscles flexing to send Orochi gut first into the edge of the ring apron. Orochi gags from having the air blasted out of his lungs and turns to collapse to his knees.

Riley: “Going off what you were saying, Mark, there was a sort of fluid grace to Orochi’s movements, but not Frost’s. It’s like a Hell’s Angel delivering an ass kicking at a biker bar. It’s not pretty, but it gets the job done. Kind of like Annie Eclectic, well that depends on what the ‘job’ is of course.”

Stevens: “Frost presses his tree trunk legs into Orochi to squash him tight against the ring apron. The mysterious grappler has shown great stamina in the past, but not even he can survive a beating from someone of the strength level of Frost for long.”

Frost reaches up to grab the second ring rope and pulls himself up just enough to bring his feet off the floor. He flings his body out and then comes swinging in like a wrecking ball to smash Orochi firmly into the ring skirt! Frost retakes his feet and backs up to eye his destructive handy work. Bits of garbage fly and the crowd screams. Frost looks up at the masses and waves his hands in for them to keep it coming.

Riley: “These fans are not cheering for Orochi, they’re rooting against Frost. There is a big difference there.”

Stevens: “Most likely brought about by Frost viciously jumping HVT tonight for no reason and Orochi is not far separated from his heated feud with the much hated Mag 7 leader Tom Flesher.”

During Frost’s taunting of the crowd, Orochi has very slickly placed his hands under the ring skirt. The camera shoots him head on and it appears that he has found something to his liking. Frost notices Orochi stirring and moves to pick him back up. Orochi skips to a crouched position and swings around. Frost instinctively brings around a right hook to plaster Orochi in the jaw, but instead strikes…

Stevens: “A CHAIR! Orochi pulls a chair out from under the ring and uses it as a shield against the hands of stone of the former boxing prodigy!”

Frost winces and slouches forward, allowing Orochi to follow up by driving the head of the folding chair into the Mag 7’ers gut. Frost doubles over with his chin almost touching the floor and Orochi comes off his knees to straighten the big man up right with a thrust uppercut to the tip of the jaw! A slight roar rises from the crowd for the comeback. Frost stumbles back and Orochi shoot out his left leg with a superkick to send him flying back with a clang to the far guardrail.

Stevens: “Orochi on the offensive, but he crumples to the ground!”

Riley: “He put too much pressure on that bad knee when he went for the superkick. That bad wheel had to support the rest of the body.”

Both men are down, but Orochi grits his teeth through the pain and hobbles over to his foe. Frost lays draped over the top bar with his head swiveling loose on his shoulders. Orochi pushes the head back with his left forearm and start working overhand rights in an effort to bust Frost open across the forehead.

Riley: “If I was Hardcastle, I’d smoke a cigarette and phone out for a pizza. This match might never hit the ring. Extra anchovies for me please.”

Frost makes a desperation lunge with a sloppy right hand to the midsection, but it’s enough to aggravate the already bruised abs of Orochi. He pauses for a second and stumbles back. Frost drops off the railing to the floor and dives with a clip to the right knee! Orochi pops into the air and spins like a Chinese acrobat, flopping down with a splat on his back!

Riley: “Frost damn neared Theismanned him there. Or McGaheed for these OSU fans.”

Stevens: “Both men down, but not out. Frost has been working on the midsection and right knee of Orochi, giving him a focused area of attack, a point that Orochi could use for his own strategy.”

Frost recovers the steel chair from where Orochi dropped it and makes his feet. The crowd jeers and Frost shakes his head knowingly, they are right in their expectations. Orochi lays spread eagle on the black floor mats, but not for long. Frost spins the chair around to face top down and practically impels Orochi with it through the stomach. He curls up from the blow with both legs tucked up and Frost makes good use of the target with a brutal smash across both kneecaps! Orochi writhes around in pain, but not a sound of discomfort escapes his resolute lips.

Stevens: “Frost flips the chair on its side and is just repeatedly ramming it sideways into the abdominal region. Short, chaotic shots to punctuate his building anger.”

Riley: “Much like Bill Bixby you don’t want to make Frost angry. You wouldn’t like him when he’s angry.”

Frost lays Orochi out flat and places the chair squarely on his torso. He backs up a step and makes sure that the battered man will stay flat before reclaiming that step and bounding into the air. The gargantuan grappler might not have a lot of ups, but 300 pounds splashing you in the stomach across a steel chair will sting from no matter what height.

Stevens: “Owe! Frost could have shattered any number of internal organs with a maneuver like that.”

Riley: “Yeah, but it’s NO HOLDS BARRED! Ruptured bowels be damned!”

Frost rises to his knees and brushes the chair off of Orochi’s prone form. Frost dives for the exposed right knee with a stabbing elbow and proceeds to pound on it with short yet painful punches.

Riley: “A little beating on the stomach, a little beating on the knee. Frost is an equal opportunity ass kicker. Why focus on just one body part when you can open yourself up to so many options with two.”

Stevens: “Frost hooks the leg and collars Orochi around the shoulder with his other hand. There’s that strength on display with another dead lift pickup.”

Frost brings Orochi up to chest height while staying planted on one knee. He juts his other leg out and slams Orochi across his leg while still holding on.

Stevens: “Sidebreaker by Frost, going back to working around that abdominal area. Frost picks Orochi back up and stands. He throws Orochi under the bottom rope and it looks like we are finally going to see some in ring action.”

Riley: “If putting Orochi directly on the job train is your idea of action.”

Frost slides in under the bottom rope and on top of his fallen foe with a lateral press.

ONE

TWO

THR-

Stevens: “Kick out! Frost needed to hook the leg in dealing with someone with a lot of fight left in them.”

Riley: “Just give it up Orochi, I’ve got a red eye to Memphis to make.”

Undaunted, Frost deftly ties up Orochi as he had on the outside and lifts him across his chest as he stands. He spins Orochi off and up into the air horizontal with the mat. Frost throws out his right leg and lets gravity take it’s natural course to crash Orochi over his extended knee.

Stevens: “Gutbuster drop! Another cover!”

ONE

TWO

THRE-

Stevens: “Shoulder up! Frost wastes no time in ripping Orochi achingly up to his feet by a fistful of hair.”

Frost pulls Orochi’s right arm up by the wrist and pulls back a clenched fist with his left hand.

Stevens: “Frost is lining up the heart punch and we all know how that directly leads to the Early Winter.”

Suddenly, Orochi turns his arm inward and locks fingers with Frost to give him a point of leverage. He makes a standing leap off the mat and spins his body around with a sweeping arc to catch the back of his heel on the base of Frost’s skull! The Velvet Hammer timbers face down from the shot and the Balancer rides his momentum around to land on the mat as well.

Stevens: “Reverse enzuiguiri by Orochi!”

Riley: “An acrobatic kick like that came out of desperate instinct, not logical thinking. I think he’s wrenched that knee even more and is not capitalizing.”

Orochi pulls himself up to a crouch with both hands massaging his swelling and bruising right knee. His breath shoots raggedly out of his lungs and one can see his stomach shutter from forcing the air in and out. Frost lies still for several moments, but not indefinitely. He pushes himself up by his hands and shakily attempts to stand.

Stevens: “The fans reaction is cuing Orochi to the Icelander’s movements and he’s fighting to his feet. Both men up, but far from sturdy.”

Riley: “As it should be, since this match is NO HOLDS BARRED!”

The two men move into each other. Orochi keeps the upper hand with an elbow to the side of the head. He grapevines Frost’s leg and snakes an arm across his chest to setup the Downward Spiral. Frost squeezes his leg tighter around Orochi’s and uses the control to pivot out of the move. He hooks his left arm around Orochi’s shoulder and across his neck while pulling back. He releases the grapevine on the left leg and reclaims it on the right.

Stevens: “Frost distends that midsection with an abdominal stretch. Sound strategy to gain a breather while continuing to work the damaged body parts of his opponent.”

Riley: “Oh man, it could take him hours to give up from an abdominal stretch. I have a train to make people.”

Frost lifts his free hand up to the audience and curls his fingers in an evil gnarl. He plunges the hand down into Orochi’s ribs to squeeze and twist the floating ribs.

Stevens: “Abdominal claw for extra added effect. Why are you going to Memphis anyway, Bobby?”

Riley: “Hell, I’m not even supposed to be here tonight. It’s the King’s birthday and I never work on the King’s birthday.”

Frost’s eyes shine with pleasure as Orochi’s head bobs limply behind the brawler’s sinewy arm. A bit of spittle rests at the corners of his mouth and his lids slowly close. Sexton Hardcastle screams in his ear to see if he wants to submit, but the yelling sounds to be a million miles away to the fading ICTV champ.

Stevens: “Wait, isn’t the Suicide King’s birthday in the summer…or sometime…”

Riley: “No! The King, Elvis Presley you Loverboy listening motherf*cker! January 8th is the King’s birthday. If I make the red eye I can still get there in time for the Nixon breakfast tomorrow morning.”

Frost grinds the abdominal claw with fierce tenacity. He shakes his head to remove himself of the last vestiges of cobwebs from the reverse enzuiguiri and pulls back more on the shoulder and neck area, smelling the coming kill.

Stevens: “Nixon breakfast?”

Riley: “His birthday is the 9th, it’s a tip of the top hat from the Presley estate, since he made Elvis a narco agent when he was president.

Stevens: “Nixon made Elvis a narco agent?”

Riley: “The Memphis Eel gets this big ass griddle out and fries up a few thousand pancakes and then coats them with maple syrup, pig lard and peanut butter. Then he…”

Orochi’s dangling arm brushes the mat and the touch sends impulses firing up to the brain. With the light at the end of the tunnel closing on him, Orochi slings his right arm overhead while twisting into the move and forces just enough reach to thumb Frost point blank in the eye!

Stevens: “OROCHI BREAKS! Frost is tripping around blinded, giving Orochi time to slump against the ropes and sneak a much needed rest.”

Riley: “It took him that long to come up with a thumb to the eye for the break?! He could have done that right off. Amtrak waits for no man people, step it up.”

Frost staggers with his head down toward Orochi, not seeing where he is going. The diligent fighter runs off the ropes and to the side of Frost while bounding into the air. He tosses his right leg over the back of Frost’s neck while putting his left under the throat. He crosses his ankles to lock Frost in a vice and then throws his weight forward to add extra impact to the guillotine face driver.

Stevens: “Rocker Dropper! But Orochi is out again himself and favoring that knee.”

Riley: “Orochi has so many leg based moves that it really damages his game plan if you take a wheel out from under him. Of course, he got that way by botching a knee drop off the apron so he has no one to blame but himself. He handed Frost a late Feast of Buffy St. Marie present.”

Frost once more lies face down on the canvas while Orochi tends his injured knee and throbbing gut. The audience grumbles restless, not behind either man but eager to see if Orochi can make the comeback. Frost pushes himself up by his arms and Orochi compels his pain wracked form up in a crouch supported by his hands on the mat and sweeps around to knock Frost’s arms out from under him with his good leg. He wallops the canvas and Orochi dashes onto the monster’s back to score a camel clutch.

Stevens: “Orochi looks for his own wear down hold to get a breath of a break, but it’s not coming as Frost quickly powers out of the camel clutch to his feet.”

Orochi dangles off of Frost’s back while still hanging onto his chin. Before the big man can figure out something to do with the pest on his back, Orochi brings his feet up to kick off of Frost’s wide back while pulling on the chin to slam him rearwards to the canvas!

Stevens: “Modified Edgeomatic by Orochi to retain control!”

Riley: “I thought that was the Edgeocutioner?”

Stevens: “The guy doesn’t wrestle for us anyway, so who cares.”

Orochi slops on top of Frost for the cover.

ONE!

TWO!

TH-

Frost puts his arms against Orochi’s chest and bench presses him off to toss behind him.

Stevens: “Frost powers out of the pin and both grapplers scramble to their feet.”

Riley: “Frost seems to have the eye of the tiger here while Orochi has the lethargy of the sloth. The Velvet Hammer wants the win and I think Orochi just wants a big sandwich.”

Orochi catches Frost in the stomach with a thrust kick by his good leg. He doubles over and the Japanese native takes both elbows in an underhook. He braces himself to fall back on the double arm DDT, but Frost moves in closer to his opponent and slips in a shoddy but effective knee to Orochi’s damaged one. He winces and loses his grip on the tag champ. Frost slides to his left to stand in front of Orochi and clasps him around the tops of both thighs. Orochi’s eyes go wide as he recovers from the blow to the knee, but is upended and sent crashing backwards to the canvas!

Stevens: “Standing spinebuster! Orochi is gamely making it a match, yet Frost is cutting him off at every turn.”

Frost keeps a hold of the right leg and stretches it out to the side. He cocks an elbow and swings his hefty body around to nail an elbow into the side of the knee as he falls. Frost keeps his grip on the leg and turns to lay with his back across Orochi for a cover.

ONE!

TWO!

THR-

Stevens: “Orochi with an elbow to the face to save the loss!”

Riley: “Frost is stunned. However, he’s fighting to his feet, knowing that Orochi is still on the mat with that bad leg.”

Frost makes it up and quickly spins around and falls to drive an elbow to the battered abs of Orochi. He ‘oophs’ from the shot as the air leaves his lungs, but continues to struggle with another elbow to the face. Frost shakes it off with a primal snarl and repeatedly strikes Orochi in the stomach with short and violent elbow thrusts.

Riley: “Frost cannot lose his cool here. He’s becoming frustrated by Orochi refusing to give up.”

Frost rolls off to his feet and jerks Orochi up by the sides of his head. He shifts his hands to clench his opponent around the stomach and flips him up and over to lie across his right shoulder.

Stevens: “Frost is setting up a gutwrench suplex!”

Riley: “Gut wrenching is something this match has had a lot of.”

Frost bends his knees and then throws Orochi off his back with a flip. He barrels through the air like a dying duck and plops stomach first across the ropes with a bellow and a groan from the fans in sympathy.

Riley: “He flicked him like a booger to land on the ropes.”

Orochi rocks back to slide onto the apron and grabs the top rope with both hands. He lets his legs hang over the apron edge and then yanks up and over to propel himself through the air with a cross body block that strikes a surprised Frost right in the numbers!

Stevens: “FROST IS OFF HIS FEET! OROCHI HOOKS THE LEG! A COVER!”

ONE!

TWO!

THR-

Riley: “Kick out! The only pins Orochi have been getting are on his crafty ring generalship. He has yet to truly hurt Frost and that’s hurting HIM on gaining the victory.”

Feeling a rush of adrenaline, Orochi stands while dragging Frost up by the ends of his closely cropped hair. He slides the man effortlessly into a front facelock and in the same deft motion grabs a handful of tights and falls backwards to crack the much larger man over his head before the extra weight or injuries can affect him.

Stevens: “Float over snap suplex by Orochi! He holds onto the move and is rolling to his feet, forcing Frost to stand with him.”

Orochi spins Frost up and around to lay the back of his head on his shoulder, as if he was going for a spinning neckbreaker. However, the audience all knows what is coming as he lifts Frost off the mat in a Canadian backbreaker and reaches around to cradle the near leg.

Stevens: “PIERCING LIGHT! If he hits this, no matter how little real damage Frost has taken, it’s all over!”

Orochi moves to slam Frost over his shoulder to the mat, but his knee can visibly be seen buckling and he drops to the canvas……with the near 300 pound weight of Frost crushing him from overhead!

Riley: “I always have to point out that IF, Mark. Orochi would have a hard time getting the Piercing Light on Frost if he didn’t have a bad knee taking all that weight and a bruised abdomen struggling for oxygen.”

Orochi squirts out from under the behemoth’s body and gets up hopping on one leg while holding that Achilles heel of a knee with one hand and his still burning stomach with the other. His eyes dart around the ring with Frost growing more cognizant by the second. His gaze lights on the nearby turnbuckles and all can read the thought boiling in his brain…

Stevens: “CAN HE HIT THE SCUM GALE WITH ONLY ONE LEG!”

Riley: “If he can’t hit Piercing Light, he has no chance at the Scum Gale. He’d have to moonsault off the top with the spring of only one leg. That’s like being up 38-14 and coming back to take the win. Not happening.”

Stevens: “And you say I don’t follow football.”

Orochi shoots a look at Frost who is beginning to stir. He points to the corner and skips over to it while the fans cheer like they were watching the old Thoth of a few months previous. He grabs the top rope tight in both hands and hoists himself up gingerly, bit by bit, until he finds a foothold on the top cord. He stands up with his hands out for extra balance, going from a Chinese acrobat earlier to the most skilled of tightrope walkers now. The right foot hovers a few millimeters over the strands, wanting to plant itself but the brain holding it off.

Stevens: “Frost is up, but he doesn’t know where Orochi is! He’s looking around muddled from the ICTV champ’s brief offensive flurry.”

Riley: “TURN AROUND! Wait…if Orochi hits this it’s over and I can make my train. DON’T TURN AROUND! DON’T TURN AROUND!”

Although his back is turned, Orochi senses his adversary up and flexes on his good leg to prepare for his moonsault. On natural physics, his right leg has to go down as he bends and the expert cameraman catches the blazing fire of pain on his face as he leaps off. Not a sound can be heard in the auditorium as the fans hold their collective breaths, save for the clicking of flashbulbs that always accompany such a wrestling feat. Yet, this Scum Gale will be special when it is snapped off. This one legged Scum Gale will be the pinnacle of stamina and determination. Alas, the mind cannot always override the flesh, which is all too quick to not pull through. Orochi’s trajectory is off, his flight pattern erratic. He just barely collars Frost around the head as he flies by, but is snagged up from not putting all the momentum and power into his leap that is sorely needs to perform the finisher correctly. Orochi feels the sweaty palms placed on his back, but cannot fight them. He feels his body ripped out of the air and repositioned, but cannot stop it. The back of his legs and rear feels the heaving chest behind them, but cannot push away. The lights over his head are a blur and rushing away from his vision. He feels his body falling and, in his way, decides to go with it. The last thought in his head as the white lights fade to black is that this was not a bad way to die.

Stevens: “FROST COUNTERS THE SCUM GALE INTO THE EARLY WINTER!”

ONE!

TWO!

THREE!

DING DING DING

Funyon: “Here is your winner by pinfall…FRRRRRRROOOOOOOSSSSSSST!”

Riley: “I’m just glad this match is over with so I can get out of here. Although I’m ecstatic that the pride of the Magnificent 7 won over the remnants of the Clan.”

Stevens: “And a big win at that. Frost has been bucking for a World Title shot, but this victory almost assures him of an ICTV Title chance. One I’m sure he would be happy to have.”

Frost rockets to his feet, soaked in sweat and haggard looking as a man fresh from a prison camp. He demands Hardcastle to bring him his title belt, but is cut off by the sounds of familiar music and deafening cheers…

Stevens: “THE HVILLE THUGG IS RUNNING TO THE RING!”

Riley: “GOD DAMN IT! A TIME TABLE IS A TIME TABLE! Cruel fate why do you mock me!”

Thugg churns down the ramp as fast as his oversized frame will haul him. Frost turns to see the man and mutters a fierce curse under his breath. He waves Thugg to bring it on. HVT spots the chair dropped from earlier in the match and claims it as he slides under the bottom rope. Frost tries to keep him grounded with a stomp, but Thugg dodges to the right and makes his feet against the tired and battered Icelander. He swings the chair around with the veteran poise of Barry Bonds swinging for the fences and connects with a doozy to the skull!

Stevens: “REVENGE! HVT IS WAILING ON FROST WITH THAT CHAIR!”

SLAM!

The blows strike over and over with power and ferocity that Frost himself has never possessed. As he crumples to the canvas and the houselights faded behind his eyes. He thinks, this, this is a bad way to die…

January 9, 2003

“YO! CUT MY FUCKIN’ MUSIC!!”

HVT screams into the microphone just handed to him by the ring attendant. Not more than a second goes by before “Who We Be” by DMX is silenced, but the crowd continues to cheer Thugg’s invasion of the main event.

(Riley) – Hasn’t he done enough already?? Poor Frost…what did he do to anybody?

(Stevens) – Do I even have to…oh, forget about it.

Thugg still stands over the downed Frost, simply staring at the carnage that he just created. With the microphone still in hand, Thugg seems to lose his control and begins to stomp mercilessly at Frost’s midsection, causing the fans to erupt once more. With no warning, Thugg halts his assault and spins quickly to face the entrance ramp…

(HVT) – YO!!

Thugg’s emphatic “yo” silences the crowd, and Thugg steps from over Frost and starts to move closer to the ropes nearest the ramp.

(HVT) – Aight yo!! Now you done written checks yo ass can’t cash!! You call my goddamn cell phone talkin’ all this shit!! Now…I done handled my business bitch!! Now it’s time for you to do the same playa…

(Stevens) – Oh!! Yes!! Thugg’s calling out that mystery man on the phone earlier!!! Maybe we’ll find out who it is…

(Riley) – And I hope he kicks Thugg’s ass…

(HVT) – Come on yo!! Don’t be scared yo! I handled this bitch right here {pointing at Frost who is still down}…no show your self bitch! Bring yo sorry ass out here so I can…

“…WRECK…”

“…YO…”

“…SHHHHH…”

Suddenly, the lights drop out, masking the entire Nationwide arena in total darkness, and also short-changing Thugg’s catchphase. The fans begin to murmur as the seconds pass, and the anticipation is so thick, it passes over the arena like a heavy fog on a dark highway.

Then, it starts…that familiar drumbeat, followed closely by the guitar riffs that used to make every SWF fan explode.

The entire arena lets out a gasp…

“Uh huh…yeah.”

(Stevens) – Oh…my…god…it can’t be. There’s no way…

The eruption from the crowd can only be described as absolute insanity. Cheers, stomps, claps, screams, yells, and every other method of expressing joy emits from the darkened rafters of the Nationwide Arena. Even the excitement those watching at home can be felt inside the arena as both announcers’ jaws hit the floor. They can’t believe it…somewhere Stubby can’t believe it…King backstage can’t believe it…the nearly unconscious Frost can’t believe it…the retired Axis, Sacred, and Edwin can’t believe it…and most importantly…The Hville Thugg, standing in the middle of the ring, can’t believe it!

A blast of white light from behind!

The silhouetted figure comes into focus, and while the lights in the arena stay off, the light from behind illuminates his thin, yet muscular frame. He stands still, his hands at his side, yet perched a little in case of sudden attack. He stands on the ramp and stares straight into the ring where HVT stands. His face can’t be seen completely, but everyone knows who it is, and it’s also evident by the fact that the roar of the crowd can be heard in Michigan…

He returns…

(Stevens) – I CAN’T BELIEVE IT!! I NEVER THOUGHT IT WOULD HAPPEN…HE’S BACK!! THE KID! THE UPSTART!! HE HAS RETURNED, AND NOW WE WILL ALL KNOW…THE…JOY…OF…X!!!

He continues to stand on the ramp, his dreadlocks flowly slightly backwards…

(Riley) – OH!

(Riley) – MY!

(Riley) – GOD!

(Stevens) – XSTASY!!! MY GOD, IT’S XSTASY!! HE’S BACK IN THE SWF!!!

A final shot of the silhouetted Xstasy staring down to the ring, while Thugg stares back up, is shown to the fans. The SWF logo fades in at the bottom left, and SWF Storm comes to a close, leaving all to wonder, what on earth will happen next!

January 9, 2003

RESULTS

HVT shows up, and some crazy shit is going on? Where's Stubby? Why is King talking to Thugg? And Thugg is still going soft...or is he?

Judge Mental d. Alex Zenon

Despite Annie mocking Judge's hardcore abilities earlier in the night, Judge pulls out a win against Alex. The Hardcore Queen might be sentenced to some hard time with Mental in the near future...

Thugg and King have a nice heart to heart. King calls Thugg a pussy. Thugg wants to wreck King's shit. Just like the days of old...

Tod deKindes d. Nathan Kibagami

Tod was just too much for Nathan tonight. It's like I always tell Nathan: Chicks get in teh way. The Silent Scream should teach Nate a lesson or two...

Frost and King have a talk. King wants Frost to help him out. In the immortal words of Michael Cole, "What exactly is the connection between these two men?"

Mak Francis and Ced Ordonez d. Michael Craven/Xero

Ced and Mak are just too much...they're moving on to bigger and better things. Good luck on Lockdown, boys.

OMGODZ!@# Stubby is gone! King is Commish! Frost attacked Thugg! Will the madness never end, people? Why can't we just talk things out like civilized people, or even civilized dolphins?

Danny Williams d. El Luchadore Magnifico, Annie Eclectic, and Tom Flesher

In what has to be considered an upset, Danny Williams triumphs over three other people, including the two men feuding for the SWF World Title! It makes you wonder how much longer he'll hang around that US Title for...

...well, if Mak Francis has his way, not all that long. Mak wants tag gold AND US gold. Jeez, someone's eyes are bigger than his stomach.

Meanwhile, Thugg receieves the Anonymous Phone Call of DOOM~!™ Who was it? Will Thugg appear in the main event? Will the caller? Will Robert Urich? Keep watching!

Judge retaliates, and talks mad crazy smack about Annie. He's TRUE hardcore, yo. You best be watching out, or else dat crazy Judge will bust a cap in your bitch ass? Y'heard?

Frost vs. Orochi

It's the main event, people! I ain't gonna tell you! Read the continuation of the match in the second post for a special surprise. It could be Cyclone Comet, it could be a lobster, or it could be anything in between. You better check it out to find out what it was...

TBS' notes: GREAT start to the year, although there was a little too much no-showing. Lots of promos and angles as we move towards Clusterfuck. This CF match could be the best we've ever had. Meanwhile, I'll be booking the next show, which is entitled SWF LOCKDOWN! This show will take place on a MONDAY, and then Smarkdown will be the following Friday. If you need something booked urgently, contact me within the next 30 minutes or so in chat or over AIM (soxrule321). Anyways, good start to the new year and new booking arrangement...although now that I have to book a card, that should end...

SWF Storm!

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