SWF Lockdown!

April 24, 2003

To a sound of muted cheers accompainied by amassive percussion, the SWF logo flashes on the screen for a brief second the disappears...

There is a moment of quiet and dark screens...

Then BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!!

BOOMBOOMBOOMBOOMBOOMBOOMBOOMBOOMBOOM!!!

The theme music for Lockdown blats over the arena's loudspeakers and the camera zooms around the arena, showing off the capacity crowd in the Richmond Coliseum!!

Grand Slam: Welcome Ladies and Gentlemen to another action-packed edition of SWF Lockdown!! We are just two shows away from SWF Battleground and the people here in Richmond are fired up!!

Bobby: You can say that again! I think I'm going deaf!!

And let's get right to the action!!

April 24, 2003

We return to Lockdown with the crowd-pan in full effect, the production team showing us all footage of the crowd, signs waving up and down and people standing up, holding up signs proclaiming their love for TNT (“Pants Explosion!”) and their hate for Tom Flesher (“Magnificent Suck!”). Finally, however, the pan stops and the pain, well, it's only beginning, as our camera shifts to “Grand Slam” Mark Stevens and Bobby Riley, manning the Lockdown commentary position.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Stevens begins, “WELCOME… to LOCKDOWN!”

“Tonight, sports fans," Riley beams, "we have the greatest special referee in the world, Tom Flesher, in the main event!”

“…yeah, he’s going to be refereeing “TNT” Taylor Nicholas Thompson and Frost.”

“Yeah, but those two are easy to forget about.”

“Also tonight… many other things, but judging by the lighting we’re not going to be able to get to them so we’ll simply SEND IT… to Funyon. Take it!”

As Stevens noted, the lights shut off all over the arena with the exception of a single spotlight, shining down on Funyon. The tall, nattily-attired ring announcer clears his throat before raising the microphone to his lips and beginning to speak.

“Ladies and gentlemen!” The crowd roars at the acknowledgment of their existence, but Funyon pretty much no-sells their existence (ha) and continues speaking. “The following contest is scheduled for ONE fall, and it is for the ES-DOUBLE-YOU-EFF YOOOOOOOOOU-NITED STATES CHAMPIONSHIP!”

“Introducing first, the challenger…”

TING! TING! TING! TING!

The four quick cymbals and even quicker guitar riff that begins “Damage Done” by Dark Tranquility blasts throughout the arena, as the lights go out and blue strobes begins to flash in time with the music. Mike Van Siclen steps onto the ramp, his arms extending in a bent crucifix under his acid-green jacket.

“…he hails from Harrison, Illinois…”

He spins around the on the ramp, grinning like a madman as he breaks out of his spin cycle and steps cockily down the entrance ramp, sliding into the ring and extending his arms to the side, dropping his arms and letting his jacket slide off and to the mat.

“…weighing in at two-hundred and thirty-seven pounds, he is the Spectacle…”

Brian Chioda, hassled, picks Van Siclen’s jacket up, tossing it to a ring attendant as Mike poses in the middle of the ring, his arms crossed, absorbing light bulb flashes like a lightning rod as the crowd’s cheering builds to a crescendo, just in time for Funyon’s big finish…

“…he is MIIIIIIIIIIIKE VAN SIC-LEN!”

The crowd pops for Mike’s name, Van Siclen breaking out of his pose and walking over to his corner as the lights come back up, allowing the crowd some time to catch their breath before the lights cut out, the crowd begins to boo like crazy, and the announcers just shut up for a sec while we hear...

“BOOM-BOOM BOOM... BOOM...”

“And the CHAMPION…”

Strobe lights pulse to the beat of the guitar in the background as Audioslave’s “Cochise” kicks in, smoke spewing from vents in front of the entrance as the drums cue in 24 seconds into the song. Golden waterfalls of pyro begin flowing from the top of the SmarkTron and the volume of their booing grows louder.

“…he hails from Tampa, Florida…”

A huge pyro blast kicks up from the front of the stage at the guitar drop, about 50 seconds into the song, strobes still going. Suddenly, as Chris Cornell begins to sing, a spotlight shines down on Michael Craven, standing on stage.

“…weighing in at two hundred and eighty pounds…”

He stops turning to look at the fans, and quickly, he spins around twice, finishing by pointing to himself and flexing as the crowd boos even more. He follows it up by walking down the ramp in a half-strut. Coming up to the ring Craven deliberately climbs the steps, hopping over the top rope with the United States title wrapped around his waist. He climbs the turnbuckle closest to the crowd, points to himself, and then does a Steiner-like flex with his biceps, smiling as the crowd continues to boo him. Craven hops down off of the turnbuckle, unstrapping the title from around his waist and handing it to Chioda. He pauses in the middle of the ring as the junior referee beckons Van Siclen to join them in the middle of the ring.

The crowd waits, heavily anticipating the beginning of the match as Chioda explains the rules to both men. They nod at different points, and as Chioda finishes Van Siclen extends a hand to Craven. The Nightmare looks down at it, looking up at Van Siclen. The ring mic picks up Craven’s words…

“Thanks, I’m honored; let me show you how much…”

Craven slaps Van Siclen right across the face, Van Siclen’s head snapping over to one side… and it snaps back into place as Van Siclen, eyes now blazing, charges back at Craven, knocking him to the mat as Chioda, diving out of the way, signals for the bell!

.:Ding Ding Ding:.

“Well, Bobby, this match certainly started with a bang!”

“More like a bitchslap! How do you like that, Van Siclen? THEM apples!”

Van Siclen, straddling Craven on the mat, levels a series of punches at the bigger man, his fists moving wildly but only landing a few blows. Craven, aware of his place in the ring, stretches his arm out backwards, reaching out and grabbing the bottom rope. Chioda, seeing this, pulls Van Siclen off of Craven, admonishing him about the rope rule. Van Siclen looks at him and says, “But he dissed me!”, to which Chioda responds with an exasperated, “Deal.” Frustrated, Van Siclen lets out a huge sigh before turning back to Craven, grabbing Michael’s short hair and lifting him to his feet.

MVS lifts Craven into a standing position, so that the two are face to face. Van Siclen knees Michael in the gut, doubling him over, and he proceeds to wrap one arm over his neck, putting Craven into a side headlock. Reaching forward, MVS grabs Craven by the flame pattern on his singlet, pulling Craven up and into vertical suplex position!

“He can’t do that, Craven is two-hundred and eighty goddamn pounds!”

“MVS isn’t worn down yet, Bobby, it's still early.”

Van Siclen holds Craven up in the air for a few seconds, wavering a bit from the weight before falling back, allowing Craven’s body to hit the mat with a vicious vertical suplex. Craven grabs his back in pain from the move, but MVS makes him forget about that quickly, standing up and leveling a boot to his face! Craven, pain shifted, grabs at his face, as Chioda once again admonishes MVS about illegal maneuvers. MVS simply blows him off, however, turning around and raising one arm into the air for the benefit of the crowd, and they respond with cheers!

The Spectacle walks over to Craven, grabbing Michael by the hair and lifting him up and into a standing position. Quickly, MVS goes behind Craven, locking both hands around his waist in setup for a German suplex… but Craven lifts one elbow up and slams it right into MVS’ temple, causing the Spectacle to loosen up on the hold. Taking advantage of this, Craven reaches down low, as though picking up a baseball. He then whirls around, lifting his arm up so fast that you can hear the air crack as Michael brings his fist close to his own temple so that his forearm catches MVS with a HUGE crack!

“HOLY S<bleep>T!” Stevens and Riley chorus.

“That was one hell of a forearm shot,” Stevens remarks, to which Riley suavely replies, “Only the best from the US Champ, Mark.”

Van Siclen drops to the mat like a bad habit and Craven, grinning broadly from the crowd’s general reaction to the shot, drops down to his knees and makes the cover.

“ONE!”

“TWO!”

“THR - TWO COUNT!” Van Siclen barely manages to get the kickout, and Craven stands up, grabbing Van Siclen by the long black hair, lifting MVS to his feet. The champion, breathing slightly harder from the action thus far, puts his back to MVS’ stomach, grabbing MVS around the neck and looking to snapmare him… but Van Siclen knees Craven stiffly in the back, causing the Nightmare to lessen his grip on MVS’ neck.

However, the grip remains, but as always MVS has a solution for this, and he viciously rips Craven’s arm away from his neck! Now, with Craven’s back to Van Siclen, MVS again lays a knee into Craven’s back, causing the Nightmare to double over backwards. The challenger, thinking quickly, wraps one arm around Craven’s neck, putting him into a side headlock… and then dives forward, bringing Craven’s head into the mat with a slick looking diving reverse DDT! The crowd pops for the move but instead of going for the cover, Van Siclen runs to the ropes, bouncing off of them and coming back to drop a knee across Craven’s neck!

“And there’s the difference between Craven and Van Siclen, Bobby,” Stevens notes. “Craven goes for the pinfall right after his big moves, while MVS just keeps bringing the pain.”

“Well, Stevens, that’s justifiable for two reasons,” Riley shoots back. “Number one, a kickout can take just as much out of you as a knee, and two… quite frankly, a lot of Craven’s offense could easily garner a three count.”

Craven grabs his neck in pain as Van Siclen looks down at him, a satisfied look on his face as he grabs Craven and lifts him to his feet. MVS grabs Michael’s arm, backing up and whipping the champion into the ropes. Van Siclen bends over as Craven comes back, looking for a back body drop… but Craven sees this from a mile away and catches MVS with a kick to the jaw! Van Siclen snaps back up to his full height, grabbing his jaw in pain, and Craven steps forward, grabbing Van Siclen around the throat and raising one arm into the air, signaling for the Chokeslam!

The fans, naturally, let their hatred for the Nightmare’s sudden advantage known, and Craven can’t help but smile at this. It’s only natural, as such, that the smile stay plastered on Craven’s face as he lifts Van Siclen into the air, holding him there for mere seconds before bringing him straight back to the mat, falling forward to increase the impact of the devastating Chokeslam! The crowd boos loudly, and Craven continues to smiles as he covers Van Siclen. Chioda makes the count -

“ONE!”

”TWO!”

“THRE - TWO COUNT!” Van Siclen gets the shoulder up, and Craven, not overly worried, gets to his knees, grabbing MVS’ long black hair and lifting him to his feet, following suit to prepare for the next sequence.

“Once again, Bobby, Craven makes the cover instead of further punishing Van Siclen.”

“And once again, Mark, may I point out the Van Siclen had to lift his shoulder up and through two-hundred and eighty pounds of fine physical specimen? You can only do that so many times, Mark.”

Craven grabs MVS by the arm, whipping him hard into the ropes. As Van Siclen comes back Craven hits the mat, looking to scissor MVS’ legs with his own - and having used the drop toe hold so many times MVS knows how to beat it, hopping nimbly over Craven’s legs! Michael, somewhat confused at Van Siclen’s dodging of the move, quickly scampers to his feet, trying to think of a backup plan - but that’s kind of hard when there’s 237 pounds coming out you and showing no signs of stopping! Craven tries to move, but it’s too late, as Van Siclen leaps into the air, doing a barrel roll in midair with his legs outstretched, the top one catching Craven in the jaw while the bottom one catches him in the stomach!

Craven topples to the mat and MVS lands on top of him, but instead of going for the pin the challenger stands up, stalking over to the ropes and climbing them quickly, turning around as he hits the top one to face Michael Craven, who is in the process of massaging his neck to help clear the pain from the kick. The crowd, thinking they know what is to come, let out a roar of excitement, and Van Siclen salutes them quickly before leaping off of the ropes, splitting his legs apart so that his right one is the anchor and the left one is aimed directly at Craven’s neck, as gravity begins to do it’s part to drop Van Siclen to the mat…

And drop Van Siclen’s leg right across Craven’s neck! The crowd erupts as Craven grabs his neck in pain, looking to roll over onto his stomach but Van Siclen, thinking he may have it won, stops Craven from rolling over and holds him on his back, draping his body overtop for the cover.

“ONE!”

”TWO!”

”TH - TWO!” Craven is still far too much alive, however, and he gets the shoulder up much to Van Siclen’s chagrin. A bit frustrated but unfazed, Van Siclen gets off of Craven, lifting the Nightmare to his feet.

“Oh, yes, Mark, Van Siclen is really patient."

“I think he saw an opening there, Bobby, and he thought he could take it.”

“Obviously Van Siclen hasn’t done his homework, because Craven ALWAYS slams the door SHUT.”

Van Siclen grabs Craven by the arm, backing up and looking to whip the huge man into the ropes - but Craven breaks his hand free from Van Siclen’s grip, sliding it down MVS’ arm so that it’s under his armpit! Moving quickly, Craven dashes behind Van Siclen, locking his arm underneath MVS’ other one before the challenger can even realize it! The full nelson intact, Craven lifts MVS into the air, holding him in an elevated full nelson for maybe five seconds before slamming him down into the mat with a vicious full nelson front slam, which Craven calls the Red Fusion!

The crowd erupts in boos as Craven drops to his knees, rolling MVS’ aching body over onto its back and making the cover, which Choida counts -

“ONE!”

”TWO!”

“THR - TWO COUNT!” Van Siclen gets the shoulder up, and a very frustrated Michael Craven grabs him by the long black hair, lifting him up for what he hopes will be the golden bullet to put Van Siclen away!

"Craven nearly gets the three with the Red Fusion, but he hasn't taken enough out of Van Siclen!"

"...it's not like there's that much to take out, Mark."

Craven grabs Van Siclen between the legs, wrapping his right arm around MVS’ left leg. He then grabs Van Siclen by the head with his left arm, bending over to the side a bit before hoisting Van Siclen up onto his shoulders in position for a standing fireman’s carry, the setup for the Gulf Coast Crunch! Van Siclen, however, took two of these the last time he faced Craven and is not in the mood to take a third, and he puts a stop to it by catching Craven in the face with an elbow! Craven’s grip is lessened somewhat by the blow, and Van Siclen delivers another elbow, causing Craven to wobble around a little bit!

Taking advantage of Craven’s sudden distraction, MVS wriggles his head free of Michael’s grasp, then wraps both of his arms around Craven’s left one, squeezing them together tightly. Van Siclen the squeezes Craven’s right arm between his legs, trapping both of his arms and making Craven look a bit like a crucifix! Having Michael now set up, Van Siclen heaves back with his body, and it causes Craven to fall backwards! Van Siclen keeps his grip on Craven’s arms, causing Michael’s shoulders to be pinned to the mat and Chioda to get down for the count!

“ONE!”

“TWO!”

“THR - TWO!” Craven heaves forward with his legs, causing his shoulders to hop off of the mat. Van Siclen lets go of the hold, pulling himself to his feet and allowing Craven time to do the same.

“Van Siclen with the sweet rollup there, taking advantage of the fact that Craven wants to end this match early!”

“Craven doesn’t want to end this match early, Mark. He wants to end MVS’ suffering early.”

Van Siclen stares at Craven as the Gulf Coast Hurricane gets to his feet, grabbing his neck, which took the brunt of the impact from the rollup. Van Siclen, however, has no remorse for Craven's neck, as instead of throwing him a telethon he runs to the ropes, bouncing off of them and coming flying back at Craven! Michael, thinking quickly, throws an arm out at MVS, looking for the lariat - but Van Siclen ducks underneath it and Craven's momentum causes him to spin around!

Thinking quickly, Van Siclen stops, turning so that Craven turns to face him straight in the eye. Mike grabs Craven's arm as though looking for a whip, but instead of whipping Craven into the ropes he himself runs forward, holding Michael's arm out so that as Van Siclen runs past, Craven's arm wraps around his own neck - and Van Siclen runs forward a bit more before jumping up and sitting out, using Craven's own arm to snap him into the mat with a sweet neckbreaker! The crowd erupts as Van Siclen gets to his feet quickly, saluting the crowd before turning back to Craven, grabbing the Nightmare by the hair and lifting him to his feet.

"Van Siclen catches Craven with the Blackjack Neckbreaker there, putting even more pressure on his neck!"

"Bah, Mark, Michael's neck could withstand an assault with a battle axe, do you really think a simple neckbreaker can affect him?"

Van Siclen again grabs Craven by the arm, whipping Michael into the ropes with all of his force. As Craven comes back Van Siclen grabs him between the legs and around the neck, lifting him up and over quickly before slamming him down with a slick Powerslam! Instead of bridging for the cover, however, Van Siclen quickly gets off of Craven, going over to the ropes and looking at the fans for emotional support - which they are more than eager to give to him, roaring their approval! Grinning, Van Siclen looks back at Craven, still down on the mat... then leans back, using the ropes to sling himself quickly to the top rope!

But as soon as he hits the top he bounces back off, arching his neck in midair so that his body flips over backwards, his entire stomach outstretched and aimed directly at Craven's head, looking to be the knockout blow of the match...

...and it would, if Craven didn't roll out of the way right before the impact point! Van Siclen hits nothing but mat, grabbing his ribs in pain from the move as Craven, having rolled over onto his stomach, turns his head to face Van Siclen before planting both hands into the mat and pushing himself to his feet. He shakes his neck out, trying to lose some of the pain from Van Siclen's assault before walking over to the Spectacle, grabbing him by his long black hair and lifting him to his feet.

"Van Siclen misses the moonsault there, and with that he allows Craven to get back into the driver's seat of this matchup!"

"You know he didn't want that, Mark! You KNOW he didn't want that!"

Stevens is speechless as Craven grabs Mike by the arm, whipping the Spectacle hard into the turnbuckle, following MVS all the way there and pancaking him against the buckle with a sweet avalanche! Craven backs up, allowing Mike to stumble out of the corner a bit before Michael grabs him by the shoulder and almost literally throws him back! Van Siclen lands weakly against the turnbuckle as Craven plants his hands on the middle rope to either side of Van Siclen and catches Mike with a couple of slick shoulder thrusts! Craven backs up, looking for the big thrust, and he charges the corner with his sights set on Van Siclen's ribcage...

...but Van Siclen rolls along the ropes and out of harm's way, and Craven hits nothing, his body sliding in between the second and top rope and his shoulder slamming against the pole! The crowd lets out a huge groan as Craven untangles his arm from the pole and pulls himself to the outside of the ring, trying to avoid any further pain from Van Siclen as he stumbles around the outside, trying to shake the kinks out of his neck, which was jarred from the impact onto the pole.

"Craven gets Van Siclen into the corner, but his inability to hit Van Siclen costs him, and Bobby, you KNOW he didn't want that!"

"...don't mock my excitement, Mark."

Van Siclen looks at Craven on the outside, watching the Nightmare like a hawk watching the rat it plans to kill. Craven, meanwhile, feels that his neck is fine and he can continue wrestling, and he goes over to the stairs, climbing them with ferocity. Van Siclen, seeing an opening, smiles and dashes at the corner, and as Craven reaches the apron Van Siclen hits the ropes near the corner, springboarding off of them and right at Craven, but instead of catching him with a flying lariat he extends his legs, springboard dropkicking Craven not only in the mouth but right off the apron, as Craven falls limply to the thin mats on the outside!

The crowd erupts at the springboard dropkick as Van Siclen recovers quickly on the inside, bouncing around and yelling "YOU DON'T HUMILIATE ME!", much to the crowd's delight. Craven slowly gets up on the outside, feeling all over his head to make sure he's okay as Chioda counts him out. Craven, however, hears this and gets to his feet, shaking his head in a vain attempt to rid himself of the pain before sliding back into the ring, and meeting a flurry of stomps from Van Siclen - who is quickly cut off by Chioda, who admonishes Van Siclen - again! - about the rope rule. Van Siclen backs off, allowing Craven time to get to his feet - and massage his neck a bit more.

"Van Siclen again coming close to getting DQed..."

"...because he's a dirty f<bleep>ing cheater, that's why! You know if that was Tom Flesher he'd be DQed, but this whitebread motherf<bleep>er in the ring can..."

"Bobby, calm down. There's no need to curse on the air."

Van Siclen allows Craven to stand up a bit more, then charges him, looking for a lariat... but Craven ducks it! Van Siclen hits the ropes and comes back at Craven, only to fall victim to an elevated knee from the Gulf Coast Hurricane. The crowd roars out in boos as Craven lifts Van Siclen up, ducking down behind Van Siclen and putting his head between the Spectacle's legs, standing up so that Van Siclen is sitting on Craven's shoulders, in position for the Mercury Rising Electric Chair Drop!

Craven wobbles around a little bit, the 237 pounds sitting on his shoulders obviously causing him to be unbalanced, and the pressure Van Siclen's body puts on his neck making him wince in pain! As the thought begins to race through Craven's head - maybe this wasn't such a good idea? - Van Siclen steadies himself and catches Craven with a huge fist to the top of the head! Craven very nearly falls over from the blow, but he manages to steady himself... his neck still hurts, however, and as Van Siclen crosses his legs the pressure is intensified, the headscissors Van Siclen has on an absolute killer!

"Craven looking for the Mercury Rising, but Van Siclen reversed it and he now has Craven in an elevated headscissors! I told you Craven's big move-fest of an offense would catch up with him, Bobby!"

"Shut up, Mark, you know Craven has a plan!"

"No... no I don't."

Van Siclen, now, removes his posterior from Craven's neck, causing Craven to become even more unbalanced and the scissor on his neck to feel like a vice! Quickly, while Craven is still standing, Van Siclen pulls himself around Craven's neck so that Craven's face is looking at his stomach - and then Van Siclen falls backwards, arching his back so that he pulls Craven down, flipping him over with a beautiful Hurricanrana! The crowd erupts at the move, and Van Siclen takes a quick bow as Craven grasps his neck in pain on the mat!

Van Siclen kicks Craven in the back, causing him to roll over onto his stomach, still clutching his neck in pain. Van Siclen, grinning at the opportunity, steps over Craven with his right leg so that he's straddling the Nightmare. Van Siclen steps in front of Craven's legs, sitting down and pulling back so that Craven's arms are trapped behind Van Siclen's legs! Having Craven's arms taken out of the picture, Van Siclen is free to reach forward with both arms, clasping them together and then putting them across the bridge of Craven's nose, pulling back to put Craven into a crossface from the Camel Clutch position, which Van Siclen calls the Cardinal Sin Clutch! The crowd erupts at Van Siclen's signature submission, as Craven's face twists into a mask of pain, the damage Van Siclen has delivered to his neck being amplified THREEFOLD, the submission quickly taking effect.

The fans begin to chant "YOU'VE GOTTA TAP! YOU'VE GOTTA TAP!", but Craven remembers the belt and tells himself he has to hold out, even as Chioda asks him if he wants to tap out, he responds with a loud, emphatic "NO!" Van Siclen, hearing this, just pulls back even harder on Craven's neck, SCREAMING at him to tap, tap away his title, and although Craven's desire is strong his brain's alarm system is going off, his neck having endured so much punishment and unable to take much more! Craven doesn't want to tap, doesn't want to give up... but as Van Siclen pulls back even harder, unrelenting, he has no choice!

TAP! TAP! TAP!

Craven's hand hits the mat three times, and Chioda sees this and leaps up, signaling for the bell as Van Siclen breaks the submission, getitng off of Craven and raising one hand as the bell rings and the crowd erupts!

.:Ding Ding Ding:.

A ring attendant hands Chioda the belt, and as Chioda hands it to Van Siclen the crowd's volume increases, Van Siclen holding the title high as Craven lay on the mat, grabbing his neck in pain. The camera gets a closeup of his face, red with rage, only one thing on his mind - getting back the US title.

...fade...

April 24, 2003

Frost drags him to the center of the ring and bends him over, hooking his arms for the Early Winter!

“The fans are on their feet!” shouts Grand Slam. “They can’t believe that the SWF World Title is going to change hands right before their eyes!”

“Neither can I,” whimpers Bobby Riley pathetically.

Frost starts the lift, but Flesher holds to the mat. He sags his hips, struggling to stay on the mat any way he can. Frost strains, but Tom just won’t let himself be lifted. The Velvet Hammer lets Flesher’s arms go in order to land a few more forearm strikes across Flesher’s back to soften him up. As soon as he does, Flesher reaches up and grabs him by the head, hooks a leg and rolls through for…

“SMALL PACKAGE!!!!! SMALL PACKAGE!!!!!!!” screams Riley over and over again!

ONE!!!!!

TWO!!!!!

THREEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

DING DING DING!!!!!!!

As soon as the bell rings, Flesher rolls out of the ring and smiles, a broad, sardonic grin. Frost looks up, more confused than anything else. Funyon announces, “Your winner and STILL SWF World Heavyweight Champion…. TOM FLESHER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

“OH MY GOD!” screams Bobby Riley. “FLESHER’S AMAZING! HE’S INCREDIBLE! HE’S SUPERIOR!”

“I have to admit, that was quite a counter,” says Mark Stevens. “But I-”

Frost stands up, now livid. As Flesher taunts him from the outside with the SWF World Title belt, Frost nearly explodes. With no other course of action, he clobbers Matthew Kivell with a sickeningly stiff lariat! Flesher backs up the ramp, smirking the whole time as he watches Frost take out his anger on the referee. The World Champion stands on the stage and pats the giant gold belt over his shoulder as his former stablemate, the one everyone picked to beat him, slaughters the referee out of uncharacteristic frustration. Frost bends the referee over and, too angry to control himself, underhooks his arms. As Frost lifts Kivell into the air and slams him to the mat with the Early Winter meant for Flesher, the Superior One simply takes a sardonic bow and steps back through the curtain. The camera zooms in on Frost’s irate expression, then pans down to the barely-conscious Kivell before...

---

Ben Hardy: Just as you saw last friday night, Frost came within an INCH of becoming World heavyweight champion as he had Tom Flesher in position for the Early Winter, but Flesher had a trick up his sleeve and came out with the win. Tonight, it's --...

"Small package! What a maroon!"

Pan to the right, as Tod deKindes is seen watching the preceding clip on the nearby monitor. The crowd boos at the resurgence of the little twerp, who had been absent for yet another short while. He appears to be in a strangely relaxed mood.

Tod: That Flesher, he slays me!

Ben: Um, Tod, once again you're here. Would you mind telling the folks at home where you've been and why you weren't there last week?

Tod: Didn't feel like it. Duh.

Ben: ... Mmkay, well, when we last saw you, you *were* seen in TNT's dressing room. What was up with that?

Tod: What, I was just offering words of encouragement to my old buddy! My old pal!

Ben: Yeah well, he didn't seem really open to your remarks, I'd say.

Tod: That silly billy. He's always had problems controlling his emotions. But listen, Brad, I got a big night ahead, so I'm just gonna let you suck on camera or whatever it is you do...

Ben: Busy night? All you've done since coming back was hang out backstage with me.

Tod: ... (and the relaxed mood was now gone) Wh-- ...you ... (deep breath) ... No, it's ok. I got other things to do tonight. Good day, sir.

As Tod walks away, Ben watches him go with a raised eyebrow.

Ben: ... Nutcase.

Just as he turns to put his mic away, he's met with Tod rushing back into the shot, who blasts Ben in the face with a superkick! While Mark Stevens registers disgust at ringside and while Bobby Riley has a good giggle; Tod looks down at the fallen Riley ...

Tod: (to no one in particular) ... Huh. That felt good.

He brushed a lock of hair back into place before adjusting his shirt and leisurely walking away...

April 24, 2003

DING DING DING

:Funyon: The following contest is scheduled for ONE FALL!!

“Aww naw…hell naw, boy!”

“Y’all done up and done it!”

“Aww naw…hell naw, boy!”

“Y’all done up and done it!”

The searchlights immediately pan through the semi-darkened arena, swinging quickly through the crowd, up to the rafters, and crossing over themselves to repeat the swoosh on the opposite side of the bowl. The fans begin to cheer, but the cheers are even more amplified in those specific sections, close to the ring, fortunate enough to be shoved aside by guys in bright yellow panchos.

:Stevens: Welcome back to Lockdown…LIVE from Richmond, Virginia!! One match in the books, and we’ve got a doosy up next!!

:Funyon: Introducing first, accompanied by his brother Kross…weighing in at 209 pounds…He is one half of Déjà Vu…from Las Vegas, Nevada…KRIIIIIIIIISSSSSSSSSSSSS!!!

:Stevens: Kris and Kross have got to be a little bent out of shape about losing to Justice & Rule on Storm, but you’ve gotta give the kids some credit. They went toe to toe against the best in the business, and nearly walked away with the tag team championship.

The spotlights find the dynamic duo pushing through the crowd, slapping a few hands on their way towards the ring, from opposite sides of the arena. They both reach the crowd barrier, but before jumping over into the ringside area, they leap up on top of the crowd barrier and start to pump up the crowd.

:Riley: You know…I am gonna give them some credit. They DID last longer than I expected them to, but the fact still remains that Justice & Rule are still the tag champs. Kris and Kross may be upset about the loss, but they’re gonna get bent out of shape TONIGHT by Ejiro Fasaki and William Hearford!

:Stevens: Yeah, but they’re getting this crowd behind them, and we’ve seen that when the crowd gets behind these kids, they can surprise you. Just ask Fasaki…he knows.

The twins jumps down to ringside and slide into the ring and begin to pump up the crowd more by celebrating with themselves.

“Dude…you ready?”

“I’m SO ready brah…Juice is going DOWN!”

“You the man brah!”

“I’m the man!”

:Riley: Let’s not forget how Kris won that match…or should I say Kross?

:Stevens: Yeah, yeah, yeah…you, of all people, know that, in this business…the ends always justifies the means.

While Mark and Bobby discuss the evolution of tactics in professional wrestling, the lights dim to an angry red accompanied by a slowly ascending drumbeat.

“NOW TESTIFY!!”

The words of Rage Against The Machine’s “Testify” send the fans to their feet once more, but this time, they only wish to jeer, sneer, or grab another beer. Only moments after, William Hearford steps out onto the stage, followed closely behind by Ejiro Fasaki, bringing the fans to their loudest point of the evening. Before his formal announcement can be made, three sets of loud red pyro blasts out of the sides of the stage!

:Funyon: His opponent…accompanied by Ejiro Fasaki…weighing in at 242 pounds…He is from the Magnificent Seven and is one half of the SWF Tag Team Champions…From Royal Oak, Michigan… “THE JUDGE” WILLIIIIIAAAAAMMMMM HEEEAAAAARRRRRRRFFFOOOOOOOORRRRRRDDDDDDD!!!!

Judge looks back at Ejiro, and the two head down the ramp towards the ring. Inside the ring, one of the twins stretches on the ropes, while the other leans over the right side ropes to talk to a very attractive blonde in the front row.

“So…you wanna get together after this match?”

“Sure, but I think my husband my get a little mad.”

“Dude…he’s not even here! He’d never know. Come on…I can get you backstage.”

“Yes he is…that’s him coming down the steps now.”

“HEY! You talking to my girl??”

“Uhhhh…ummmm…GO SWF!”

And with that, twin #2 brings his head back to the ring, where Hearford and Fasaki slide in.

:Stevens: This should be a highly contested contest, despite Kris’s lack of ring experience. Kris has to be upset about the loss, and I’m sure Judge is sick and tired of having to fight these two.

:Riley: You’re damn right he’s sick of fighting them. He’s way above having to fight jobbers and newbies. And these two are lower than that.

:Stevens: So…what? That ranks them right up there with color commentator?

Judge removes his tag team belt and hands it over to Mark Hebner, who immediately calls the two teams together for some very stern words.

“We meet again…how fast should I beat you tonight chummmmmmmmmmmmmp?”

“Dude…I don’t think you can do anything fast brah. You’re like…SO old!”

“Ok, listen up guys…we’re not gonna have any of that funny business we saw a couple weeks ago. Fasaki…Kross…see ya later!”

“What?”

Judge looks at Hebner like the referee just killed his pet gerbil.

“Dude.”

“Are you serious?!? That’s bullshhhh…”

“Those are the rules! We’re gonna have a clean match here tonight. Either you leave, or Judge forfeits. Got it?”

“Fine…we got it.”

Judge and Fasaki head off towards the near ropes, talking the whole way about how to change the strategy for the match to adapt to this change.

:Stevens: I think referee Mark Hebner is sending the tag partners to the back. He’s such an experienced veteran. He’s not gonna wait for chaos to erupt.

:Riley: It’s a good thing that Hearford always has a plan B.

:Stevens: Are you implying that Judge was going to illegally use Ejiro in some way?

:Riley: Uhhh…well…I…ummm…

:Stevens: Yeah.

“Ok guys…which one is Kris?”

“He is.”

Both twins claim the other as they point to each other, but Hebner doesn’t look at all amused.

“Fine…I’m Kris.”

“No you’re not…I’m Kris dummy.”

“How can you be Kris when I’m Kris?”

“Dude, I think I know my own name.”

“Doesn’t seem that way.”

The twins grab each other and start to wrestle each other in a comical fashion, until Hebner steps between them, grabbing them both by the backs of their heads and pull them in close.

“Listen…DUDES…I don’t care which one of you is which. One of you get out of my ring and head to the back. The other, get ready, cause we’re all set. Oh, and you have 10 seconds to decide, or I’ll disqualify you both.”

“Dude…you are SO mean.”

One of the twins slides out of the ring, leaving Kris alone, and when he sees that Fasaki is almost to the stage, Kross heads over to the ramp.

“Let’s go.”

DING DING DING

With everything in order, Mark Hebner calls for the bell.

:Stevens: And here we go. The Judge vs. The Kid. Should be a great one!

Judge and Kris move towards the center of the ring, with words being shared the whole way.

“You ready for lesson two boy?”

“Dude…what’s your deal?”

“I don’t like you, and I’m gonna show you what wrestling really is.”

“Yeah, well…you’re gonna have to catch me first!”

And with that, Kris darts to his left, sliding out of the ring on the left side. Judge follows in haste, chasing Kris around the far side of the ring, past the announce table, and back into the ring on the right side.

:Riley: What is this??

:Stevens: I don’t know Bobby. Looks like Kris is just gonna run away from Hearford.

Kris jumps up upon entering the ring, and when he sees Judge slide in after him, he runs to the near ropes, and slides out of the ring again.

“Catch me if you can!”

:Riley: I really am starting to get sick of this crap. Mark, why haven’t you taken these guys aside and taught them how to wrestle?

Kris runs around the left side of the ring again, and Judge follows once more. Kris jumps up on the Spanish announce table, and then leaps to the regular announce table before jumping down and turning the corner to the right side of the ring.

:Stevens: King said it didn’t matter cause they wouldn’t be around much. I guess I should probably take them aside at some point, but to be honest, I really don’t want to.

Kris dives into the ring again, but this time, when Judge slides in after him, Kris is ready for him. Judge blindly leaps to his feet, but is tripped by Kris, and Judge falls to the canvas. With Judge on the canvas, Kris leaps on him and does the most bizarre thing ever seen in the SWF, he performs the deadly, heinous, painful…

:Riley: TICKLE!! There’s that damn tickle again!!

:Stevens: That tickle is becoming a solid part of Déjà Vu’s repertoire !

Judge flops around the ring, unable to control his laughter, but Kris stays on him, constantly wiggling his fingers into Judge’s sides.

“What’s so funny??”

:Riley: It’s not even a wrestling move!

:Stevens: It’s proving effective right now Bobby, so it can’t be all bad.

What happens next is even more bizarre than the tickle itself. Judge, unable to control himself, begins slapping the mat with his hand (as anyone would if they were being tickled) in an attempt to control his laughter. Little does he know that Hebner is right there, and immediately waves for the bell!!

DING DING DING

:Riley: What the hell??

:Stevens: It’s over?? Huh?

Kris, upon hearing the bell, jumps up and begins to hop around the ring in absolute excitement. Hebner goes to him and raises his arm in the air, as the crowd seems to be laughing more than cheering.

:Riley: Something’s wrong. This can’t be happening!

:Funyon: Your winner…by submission…KRRRRRIIIIIISSSSSSS!!!

:Stevens: Oh, it’s happening, and if I were Kris, I’d get the hell out of there right now because The Judge is going to kill him!

Sure enough, Judge leaps to his feet and sees Kris’s arm in the air and a cheesy grin on his face. Hearford is less than pleased with this and immediately goes after Kris, who alertly dives out of the ring and scurries up the ramp. In the ring, Hebner grabs Judge by the shoulder, and Hearford turns around to plead his case to the ref.

“How could you call that?!?”

“Sorry Judge, you tapped!”

“I didn’t tap! How can you say I tapped! I f**king tap!”

“Your hand was slapping the mat. That’s a tap!!”

“IT WAS A TICKLE!! A DAMN TICKLE! I DID NOT TAP OUT TO A TICKLE!”

“Sorry, but you did…”

Judge just snaps and kicks Hebner in the gut to double him. The fans boo as Judge puts Hebner in a straight jacket…

:Stevens: NO! Don’t do this Judge! You’re anger is with Kris…not the referee!

…and lifts him up for a Powerbomb…

:Riley: Can you blame him?

…and brings him back down…

:Stevens: YES! This isn’t right! Someone help Hebner!

WHAM!!

…right onto his knee with a sit out, straight jacket Powerbomb onto his knee!!

:Stevens: OH!! What kind of person would do that to defenseless referee! He just hit Hebner with the Capitol Punishment!

“I…DID…NOT…TAP!!”

Judge spits on Hebner’s lifeless body and dives out of the ring…

“I’M COMING TO GET YOU BOY!!”

…and immediately sprints up the ramp in the direction of where Kris headed off.

:Stevens: That is uncalled for, and Judge will almost certainly receive a suspension or a fine for his actions.

:Riley: Why?? He didn’t tap! The ref made a bad call, and he got what was coming to him. And if Judge finds Kris tonight, that freak will get what’s coming to him as well!

The fans are kind of shocked at what just happened, as if they know that there was something wrong that caused this crappy display. Maybe it was a booking error where the match wasn’t given enough time, so they just had to do what they had to do, but whatever it was, they are happy Kris won but not so happy that Judge is not in hot pursuit!

:Stevens: That was very, very strange! Kris just beat Judge with a tickle, which is bizarre in its own right. But also, Hearford lost it and hit the Capitol Punishment of referee Hebner, and now he’s looking for Kris! Oh, it’s crazy I tell you…but that’s the SWF! Never a dull moment! We’ll be right back!

April 24, 2003

The bright, smiling face of Benjamin Hardy appears on screen with microphone at ready.

"Sorry to interrupt you guys," says Hardy, "But I have here one of the participants of the upcoming Hardcore four corners match. He's shrouded in mystery, flames, and recently the Hardcore Gamers Championship! Thank you for taking a couple minutes of your time to speak to me Beezel!"

The camera pulls back to show the HCG champion himself standing next to Ben.

"It's a pleasure to once again stand next to Ben Hardy," says Beezel in his masked robotic voice.

"That is one thing I would like to talk about with you, Beezel," says Hardy.

"Please, Ben, we're friends. Call me Mr. B or just plain B if you would," interrupts Beezel.

"All right then. Mr. B, you've made it quite clear that this is not your first appearance in the SWF, however you have made quite sure to avoid anyone learning who you are. You cover your body head to toe save for your hair, and even your voice is disguised," says Hardy, "You've used moves that are linked to many different SWF illuminaries... the real question here is why? Why all the mystery and intrigue?"

Beezel puts his hand up to his chin as if to stroke an imaginary beard.

"Well, Friend Hardy, Kindly old Mr. B believes that his first run here wasn't what it could have been. It was successful, yes. But not successful enough," muses El Scorcho, "And I fear the reason behind that is not my own personal talent or lack of, but rather... Something much more sinister. Something or someone that refuses to allow people like me to thrive here."

"Exactly what do you mean by that, though?" asks Hardy.

"It is simple. I fear that those in high places do not with someone like your friend Mr. B to get a long, hard look at the big shiny belt that Friend Flesher currently holds," says Beezel, "Shots have happened, but no real long term victories. I come here before all to prove that those like me deserve respect from the fans, from the other wrestlers, and from the Commisioner's Office as well. Getting this title is a great step in the right direction, but there needs to be more. More progress, more looking forward to tomorrow. I aim to use the past to show these jaded people the future. The future, according to Mr. B. So please... all those who doubt me, all those who would say that I'm simply a madman in a flaming red suit, listen to kindly old Mister Beezel. I implore you, pick up your pencils and begin taking notes. The test is coming and I want you all to be prepared. Only by studying the past, will we see the future. Thank you, Friend Hardy, for the chance to speak my mind."

Beezel makes a small salute towards Ben and walks off to prepare for the match ahead. Hardy turns to the camera, looking somewhat perplexed, and speaks into the microphone...

"That was Ben Hardy with the Hardcore Gamers Champion, Beezel. Sending it back to you Mark and Bobby!"

April 24, 2003

The screen flickers to life and we are once again in the sold out Lockdown Arena! The camera rips through the crowd, catching signs such as “Neilsen! Show us your bitch!” and “I mark for the Beez!” before it ends it’s tearing spree and settles in front of Riley and Stevens. The crowd and the announcers hyped from the preceding segments, are just as pumped for the ones to follow.

Stevens: “Welcome back to SWF Lockdown! Folks, we have had a fun show… but I tell you, we are about to have even more fun! First, we got a four man hardcore match, featuring our four most hardcore mofos around! Then we have a number one contenders match… which will feature TNT and Frost…the two members of Chilli Chilli Bang Bang will go at it!”

Riley: “I think you are forgetting one of the most important factors of that match.”

Stevens: “Sigh. Go ahead Riley.”

Riley: “Our special referee is TOM FLESHER!!! Yay! Two, four, six, eight, Flesher makes me masturbate!”

Stevens: “Only 32 more years until pension… anyway, in this upcoming battle! We have the Australian monster, Janus! We’ve got the man who defeated him for the hardcore title last week, and is our current reigning hardcore champion, the mystery man Beezel. We have the Hardcore Maniac, Jamie Drazon, might I add that he is in a particularly rotten mood tonight. And we also have the Hardcore King, Neilsen of the Jungle!”

Riley: “It sounds like it could be a Main Event. Except for that Neilsen bit, substitute him with Flesher, make it a normal match, and boom, 5 stars baby!”

Stevens: “Whatever. I think these guys are here to fight anyway! Might I add that both titles are NOT on the line tonight.”

Riley: “So it will just be a battle of who is the most hardcore. So, not Neilsen.”

Stevens: “Despite my colleagues blatant favouritism, this match is designed for the odds to be against Neilsen! However I don’t see that happening, because quite frankly, no one here likes anybody! In fact, with the exception of maybe Beezel, no one here would even help another guy out in this match, unless it saves them the win!”

Funyon stands on the outside as the attention is now drawn toward the ring, the match is about to start.

Funyon: “The following non title contest is a special four way hardcore match!”

Suddenly, the arena is plunged into darkness, and the crowd alternates between cheers and whoos into the darkness as the Smarktron shows an image of a young man, with his hair recently dyed white. As the strains of Fear Factory's "Resurrection" echo through the arena, cracks slowly begin to weave through the image, and blue pyros start fountaining up on both sides of the ramp. Before Funyon can speak, the voice of Burton C. Bell carries through the arena.

"Consumed with memories...

That preceded today...

Given a chance to bereave..

Life that's slipping AWAAAAAAAAAAAY!!"

As the heavy riffs roar out of the speakers, the crack-riddled image explodes into fragments, revealing the face of Janus as he is now, with a scowl on his face. His name flashes up in green text, and it proceeds to play clips of some of his more brutal spots - interspersed with flashes of his name and "Magnificent Seven", as the giant steps out onto the rampway, lit only by a spotlight as Funyon lifts up his microphone.

Funyon: “Introducing first! He hails from Sydney, Australia! He stands at Seven feet Two inches and weighs in at 350 pounds! A member of the Magnificent Seven! JAAAAAANUUUUSSSS!!!”

Janus stalks down to the ring, each set of blue pyros going out as he walks past them. Flexing his muscles, he climbs up onto the ropes and steps over the top. He stomps around in the centre of the ring, around the darkened arena letting the crowd see his hulking body before thrusting his arms into the air.... and with a loud explosion, a pillar of blue fire explodes from each turnbuckle simultaneously… but before the lights come back on, the trail end of the pyro triggers off another set of pyro. Thousands of fireworks perform their dazzling display as they explode around the arena, rafters and entrance ramp.

Stevens: “There is Janus! He’s about to be joined by…”

-"THIS

IS

MAH

HOUSE!!!"

The very loud voice of Jamie Drazon cuts off Stevens as his SmarkTron catchphrase echoes through the arena. Rammstein's 'Du Haste' picks up in the speakers, playing without the lyrics... The heavy beats thunder 360 degrees all over the arena... JD steps through the curtains, his head down and the ICTV title fastened around his waist. He walks to the top of the ramp, the audience showering him with a loud, although highly mixed reaction. JD slowly raises his head, inhaling as he does so, absorbing the crowd reaction. He takes a second to scan toward Janus, before he lowers his head again, although a smile without good intentions is now plastered on his face as he walks forward.

Funyon: “His opponent! He hails from Vancouver, British Columbia! He stands at Six feet Four inches and weighs in at 243 pounds! The SWF INTERCONTINENTAL TELEVISION CHAMPION!!! JAMIE ‘JAY DAWG’ DRAZON!!!”

JD looks up into the ring, rolling his eyes into the back of his head, he grins maniacally at Janus. The Seven-foot plus monster isn’t fazed as he rests in the corner. JD enters the ring, placing his hands on his thighs, and slowly cricks his neck while keeping his head directed at Janus, looking at him even with his eyes closed. Drazon steps up to the centre of the ring, inviting the giant to do the same. Janus steps forward, looking down 10 inches to see the face of Jay Dawg, under his jaw heavily stitched up from last week. JD bumps his chest into Janus, getting into his face, Janus bumps his chest back, just hard enough to move JD, but not start a fight.

Stevens: “Jay Dawg and Janus showing no signs of fear from each other!”

"I wish I could get my head out of the sand, 'cause I think we'd make a good team..." croons Rivers Cuomo of Weezer, getting the attention of the crowd and causing some of them to sing along.

Stevens: “Here comes our reigning hardcore champ!”

"Without shaking, I ain't fakin... I'll bring home the turkey if you bring home the bacon"

The crowd fully kicks in for the final words before the chorus when a sheet of red fire shoots up from the entrance ramp and disappear just as fast. From out of the smoke comes the flame covered Beezel with microphone in hand, hardcore title around his waist and directing the rest of the audience...

I'M A LOT LIKE YOU, SO PLEASE. HELLO? I'M HERE! I'M WAAAAAITING

I THINK I'D BE GOOD FOR YOU, AND YOU WOULD BE GOOD FOR ME!

Funyon: “Coming out… he hails from Phoenix, Arizona! He stands at Five feet Eleven inches and weighs in at 205 pounds! THE SWF HARDCORE GAMERS CHAMPION!! BEEEZEEEL!!!”

The high flyer does his usual song and dance act on the ring steps before throwing his microphone to the referee Nick Soapdish. He climbs the steps, but pauses before entering, taking a look at both Jay Dawg and Janus. The two show no immediate threatening signs, so Beezel steps through the ropes. He unbuckles his title, then looks over to JD, who proceeds to do the same.

“ROAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAR!!!”

Funyon: “And their opponent…”

A heavy beat starts to bump as images of a man pulling on black fingerless gloves, black elbow pads and black kneepads. “…can you feel that?”

Funyon: “Hailing from Chicago, Illinois…”

The man’s scarred chest is shown with a black wifebeater being pulled over it. His arms can be seen pumping. His sandaled feet are shown hopping up and down. “Aw shit…”

Funyon: “Weighing in at 245 lbs…”

Images from behind of the man walking into an excited arena bearing a steel chair are shown.

Funyon: “Neilsen…of…the…Juuunngglllllle!!!”

“Ooooo…ah ah ah ah!” The fans explode as Neilsen comes bursting out from behind the curtains bearing a steel chair! He stops at the top of the ramp this time, before turning around. The fans cheer as Neilsen stares at Beezel, Janus, and finally Jay Dawg and then points back towards the entranceway with his chair. The fans burst once more as out comes Michelle wearing a black bra and an unbelievable short, ripped black skirt bearing with her a trash can full of weapons! Jay Dawg and Janus grin from ear to ear while Beezel crosses his heart. Neilsen passes his lady his chair, and then grabs the garbage can away from her. He walks down the ramp as the crowd gives him an even more mixed reaction then Jay Dawg. All three men inside the ring don’t take their eyes off the Jungle King, especially Jay Dawg, as he opens his eyes just to glare at his hated rival. Neilsen does the men inside a favour, and throws the garbage can inside the ring. Upon impact, several items spill out of it. Including a cookie sheet, a traffic cone, a fire extinguisher and a broomstick. Neilsen grabs his chair from Michelle and dives into the ring himself. The ref takes that as good as sign as any to start the match.

DING DING DING

The crowd erupts in approval as the match is officially on it’s way. Beezel grabs ahold of the cookie sheet and makes the charge for Janus. Drazon continues to coldly stare at the Jungle King. The man responsible for his scars merely grins back, dropping his chair, clenching his fists, then walks toward his maniac opponent. Beezel starts to lift the sheet over his head, but Janus simply punches him in the face!

SMACK

Despite the smack being the sound of the sheet, the punch is the part that hurt Beezel as he falls to the mat.

Riley: “That’s gotta leave a mark!”

Stevens: “Janus sure did a number on that cookie sheet!”

Beezel lies on the mat with the broken sheet over his face as Neilsen swings for Jay Dawg. His blow is blocked and returned by JD. The crowd cheers as the kings of hardcore go at it in a fist fight, at the moment only blocking and throwing. Janus picks up the fallen Beezel and throws him to the ropes, bounce back, and he flattens Beezel with a shoulderblock! The hardcore champ hits hard but rolls away immediately following impact and has the ropes help him up. Neilsen pushes JD back with his punches toward the ropes, pushes JD in and pulls him off, but a shift of Drazon’s hips reverses, sending Neilsen to the ropes with Beezel. As Beezel stands up, he collapses on the top rope for a second, sinking it in, just as Neilsen rebounds into it… and the Jungle King tumbles to the floor!

Stevens: “Oh my god! Beezel was still a little rocky from the powerful Janus, and accidentally just knocked Neilsen a little goofy!”

Jamie Drazon grins sadistically as Beezel grabs the back of his head in shock, clearly not intending for that to happen. He turns around to see Janus trying to take advantage of the situation with a cheapshot from behind, but catches the enormous Aussie with a fist to the jaw. Neilsen gets up on the outside to one knee, shaking his cobwebs out as JD dashes off the opposite ropes, rebounding hard and heading for the Jungle King. No sooner does Neilsen stand up, that Jay Dawg dives over the top rope, and takes him down with a Tope! The crowd explodes with approval while at the same time; Beezel starts to pummel Janus back with hard fists.

Stevens: “Jay Dawg just took flight!”

On the outside, JD gets to his knees, standing over the fallen Neilsen, he picks him up by the back of the head and begins feeding his face some fists. Beezel grabs Janus by the arm, throwing him off the ropes, no, Janus doesn’t let go instead pulling Beezel into him and decapitating him with a short arm clothesline! Beezel lies still for the moment as Janus stalks forward, leaping into the air and throwing out his tree trunk of an arm for an elbow, but hits only mat as Beezel rolls out of the way! The hardcore champ rolls over, grabs the broomstick, and takes an axe swing at the top of Janus’ dome, splitting the weapon in two over Janus’ head and dropping the monster to his chest. Beezel starts to kicks the powerful Janus in the chest. Jay Dawg peals Neilsen off of the outside mat, grabs the foul-mouthed highflier by the chest, and throws him into the steps!

Stevens: “Since that accidental advantage, Jay Dawg has been taking it to Neilsen!”

Riley: “You say that like Jay Dawg can’t beat Neilsen one on one!”

Stevens: “Well… has he?”

Riley: “Bah!”

Neilsen rests with his back on the steps, holding his gut as he absorbs the internal pains. JD rolls his eyes into the back of his head as he looks at the Hardcore King, but lets them flutter back as they pierce into Neilsen’s body. Jay Dawg storms forward, throwing his right leg out with a Yakuza Kick…

CLANG!!!

And kicks the top steps hard into the railing, but the head of Neilsen remains safely intact as it dodges the blow! Inside the ring, Beezel pulls the back of Janus’ dyed white hair and drags him to his feet. Realizing he just decided on a strategy not too smart, Beezel dashes to the ropes, on the rebound, hoping to knock Janus back down with a crossbody… but his hopes are denied, as Janus catches him in mid-air. On the outside, JD doesn’t stop, looking into the eyes of Neilsen.

“I’ve waited too long Neilsen! You aren’t escaping me this time!”

JD pulls Neilsen into a front facelock as Janus presses Beezel high above his head military style. JD throws Neilsen’s spare arm over his shoulder, and in a double feature, JD snaps backward as Janus steps forward… Beezel just drops to the mat, albeit from ten feet in the air, Neilsen flips over hard, and into the bottom/flat part of the stairs with a snap suplex! The audience begins to boo as Janus stands tall in the centre of the ring, while also giving a more negative reaction to Drazon as well.

Stevens: “Jamie Drazon is just taking the fight to Neilsen on the outside, while Janus is having his way with Beezel inside!”

Riley: “Finish him Drazon!”

JD stands on the outside by the steps, while Janus peals Beezel up off the mat. Not sure what to do with it, Janus picks up the traffic cone, and waffles Beezel in the head with it! Surprising. Beezel drops to the mat, holding his forehead while on the outside; JD slashes his thumb over his throat, signalling the end for Neilsen. He pulls Neilsen into a standing headscissors, and crosses his arms over his own throat. JD rolls his eyes into the back of his head as the crowd begins to boo.

Stevens: “Jay Dawg is looking to end Neilsen once and for all!”

Riley: “A JD’s Revenge on the steps is a damn good start!”

Holding Neilsen tightly by the wrists, JD smiles. But the foul mouthed motherfucker stands straight up, back body dropping JD off of the steps and onto the hard outside mat! Neilsen grabs his back in pain for a second, but stands up to his feet. Inside, Janus drops the traffic cone and picks up the steel chair. Holding it by his chest for the moment, he walks over to Beezel on his hands and knees, but Beezel leaps into the air, seeing what Beezel is doing, Janus raises the chair, bringing it out of the way…

CRA_SMACK!!!

But it’s too late, as Beezel roundhouse kicks the chair into Janus’ face! The blow rocks the big bastard, as on the outside, JD sits up from the back body drop. He stands to his feet, walking to the steps.

SMACK

Stitched skin, meets sandal as Neilsen superkicks JD from the top of the steps! JD staggers backward, as inside the ring, Beezel dives at Janus with a flying forearm, knocking the big man back into the turnbuckles! Beezel throws the chair at Janus, smacking him gently in the head before he catches it. Beezel charges for the corner, leaps in the air, and squashes the chair and Janus with the body splash! Beezel bounces out of the corner as Janus drops the chair to the ground. Beezel casually dances backward, not quite doing the moonwalk. Neilsen drops off the steps, calling Jay Dawg inward. His stitched skin still feeling somewhat tender, JD rubs his jaw, but walks right into Neilsen, who scoops him up onto his shoulders, then drives him shoulders/neck first into the mat with the Juvi Driver!

Stevens: “The Square driver to the outside!”

Neilsen rubs the sides of his head, wiping away some of the sweat he throws it onto Jay Dawg. The crowd begins to cheer as Neilsen stomps away at JD.

“Come on, bitch! Bring it!”

Neilsen continues to stomp Jay Dawg while taunting him.

“You wanted the Hardcore King! Here I am!”

Neilsen looks inside the ring, Beezel standing in the centre, looking at Janus in the corner with a chair lying down in between his legs. Beezel storms forward, leaping in the air… but Janus thrusts out of the corner with a size 19 boot!

CRACK

Smoking Beezel in mid air with the gigantic boot! Beezel drops like a ton of bricks as Neilsen smiles with pride.

“Roar motherfucker.”

Neilsen pulls JD off the mat, and rolls him inside the ring. Neilsen lifts up the ring apron, reaching underneath, he pulls out a table and the crowd pops mad for the signature hardcore weapon. JD stumbles to his feet inside the ring, and backs right up into… Janus! Out of instinct, JD swings, but Janus catches the fist in mid swing. Janus pulls JD inward, scooping him up by his side, sticks his knee out, and then breaks JD in half over it with a pendulum backbreaker! JD clutches at his ribcage, as Neilsen grins on the outside, sliding the table inside the ring.

Stevens: “Neilsen just fed Jay Dawg to Janus!”

Riley: “And Janus ate him!”

Neilsen rolls into the ring himself, and instantly starts setting up the table. With Drazon and Beezel down, Janus turns his attention to Neilsen! The Jungle King sets up one set of legs, turning his attention to the other, when Janus grabs the back of his neck! Michelle gasps in fear for her man on the outside, as Neilsen stands trapped in the grasp. He quickly spins around, firing his right fist, but the giant deflects it with a block, and then pulls Neilsen up into his side as well. Janus spins around with Neilsen lying by his side, before crushing him into the mat with a spinning sidewalk slam!

Stevens: “Janus is clearing house in the ring!”

Riley: “That’s because he is the most hardcore out of all three!”

Janus grabs the trashcan, letting the weapons spill outside; the only one that hasn’t been seen already is a golf club. As Beezel starts to get up, Janus swings, denting and smashing the trashcan over his head and knocking him to the mat. Janus drops the can as all three men lie around the ring. He walks over to the table, and pulls it up, picking up its spare legs. He unfolds the table and stands it up. He turns back to the trashcan, picking it up, he sees JD crawling toward him. Janus raises the can with his two arms, high over his head, then slams it down into the back of JD! JD flattens out as Janus drops the can, turning his attention to Neilsen of the Jungle.

“And now the King shall see… that Janus is the true master of the hardcore!”

Janus uncharacteristically shouts, as he pulls Neilsen into him. He tightens on a front facelock, but Jay Dawg presses up. In the corner, Beezel rolls to the ring apron and sits up on the outside. Janus throws Neilsen’s spare arm over his shoulder, but gets a shot to the ribs by the Jungle King. At the same time, JD dives at Janus, clobbering him in the jaw with a forearm. Janus staggers back as JD swings again; Janus catches the fist and spins JD inward into a sleeper like hold. But Jay Dawg crouches straight down, shifting his body, and throws his elbow into the air…

CRACK!!

Smoking Janus in the jaw with an elbow smash! Janus staggers backward, and at the same time, both JD and Neilsen clobber him with a right and left! Janus staggers backward some more, as Jay Dawg grabs the trashcan and Neilsen grabs the chair. Janus staggers forward, no idea what is in store…

SMACK!!!

Janus staggers around from the trashcan shot.

SMACK!!!

Janus bounces away to the otherside from the chair shot. He staggers by the table, as Beezel climbs the turnbuckles, standing above Neilsen, Jay Dawg and Janus. Jay Dawg and Neilsen swing at the same time…

SMMMMAAAAAAAAACK!!!!

The chair from the left, the can from the right, and Janus falls onto the table from impact! JD and Neilsen both look down with glares in their eyes. Beezel suddenly leaps through the air, somersaulting in mid air, thrusting out his right leg…

Neilsen and JD both bail…

Beezel straightens out his body, straight for the table…

CRASH!!!

Dismantles the table with the body of Janus! Beezel and Janus lie on the mat, not showing any signs of moving, chunks of table in between them. JD and Neilsen shrug their shoulders, then turn to each other, and clobber themselves with right hands! Both men stagger back upon impact as the crowd pop for the shots and the leg drop.

Stevens: “Beezel has just taken Janus out of this match!”

Riley: “It looks like he took himself out as well!”

Neilsen fires a right hand, JD returns with a right of his own! Neither man stagger back from their shots, and fire again. Neilsen fires another shot, hairs faster then JD, knocking him back with a second shot. Neilsen keeps firing, but JD returns with a knee to the gut. JD hooks onto Neilsen’s right arm, shifts his weight, and throws Neilsen over his shoulder with a judo hiptoss! Neilsen lands on his back and JD hooks his arm, but Neilsen fires his knee up, hitting JD in the forehead with it. Neilsen stands and swings a right hand, but JD ducks, draping his arm around Neilsen’s chest and cradling his leg. JD throws Neilsen over his head with a T-Bone suplex! Neilsen bounces off the mat and rolls to the outside. JD sits up, seeing Beezel and Janus roll away from each other, he grins.

Stevens: “Jamie Drazon is the only one standing in this hardcore battle!”

Riley: “I think he’s about to lay a hurting on the Jungle King!”

JD slides out of the ring, standing over top of the fallen Jungle King. He drops to his knees, and makes a cover, shouting out for Soapdish to do his job. The ref slides out of the ring himself and starts to count down the Jungle King.

ONE…

TWO…

But Neilsen gets a shoulder up. Relaxed, JD pulls Neilsen up by the back of the head, and pulls him into a full nelson. JD stands behind the announce table…

Stevens: “Time to move, Riley.”

Riley: “Way ahead of yah.”

JD thrusts back with the full nelson, but a resourceful Neilsen hooks his ankles around the knees of JD. Out of spite, JD tightens his full nelson as he suspends Neilsen in the air on the outside. His power draining, JD lowers Neilsen to the mat. Once his feet touch, Neilsen explodes backward, crushing JD back first into the ring apron! Neilsen steps backward, grabbing the TV monitor from the table, he pulls it out. JD grasps his back as Neilsen viciously swings the monitor…

CRACK!!!

Splitting part of the side open on the head of Jay Dawg! JD drops to his knees, blood pouring out of his forearms. Stevens stands by the announce table, calling all the action with a first hand point of view.

Stevens: “Oh my lord! How many times will Neilsen bust JD open!”

Riley: “Probably every time they fight!”

“You imbred moron! Don’t fuck with me! You’ll get fucked harder then a Llama in Afghanistan!”

Neilsen spews some more of his ‘colourful’ language as he pulls JD to his feet. Riley figures the action is fairly safe, and sits back down in his seat…

-just as Neilsen grabs JD by the back of the pants, runs to the table, and throws Jay Dawg over top of it! JD slides along the top before bowling over top of Riley and scoring Neilsen a strike!

Stevens: “How yah feeling Riley!”

Jamie: “Motherfucker!”

The crowd laughs as JD sticks his head up over the announce table with Riley’s headset on. An idea filling the mind of the Hardcore King, Neilsen sprints forward, getting two quick steps before he has to leap, stepping off the announce table…

He dives through the air…

Jamie: “Oh shit!”

Riley stands up…

-Only to get flattened with Jay Dawg as Neilsen crashes his body into them! Stevens finally sits down as he marks out for what he just saw.

Stevens: “Neilsen just took out Jay Dawg and Riley with that body plancha there!”

Jamie: “You toothless, elephant sucking fuck.” Mumbling his opinion of the Jungle King. “I’m gonna fucking cream you and your little ho too.”

Stevens: “Ummm… Is this show live?”

Jamie: “Mother<BEEP>er. I’m gonna <BEEP>ing make him eat his own <BEEP>. Tear his eyeballs out and skull<BEEP> him.”

Stevens: “Drazon showing he can match the potty mouth with Neilsen!”

Neilsen pulls JD up off the ground, he takes the headset off of him and slides him onto the table. Neilsen puts the headset on himself, then drives his elbow into the chest of Jay Dawg. The ICTV champion rolls off the table and to the mat, trying to catch his energy in the process.

“You diarrhoea <BEEP> eating <BEEP>smoker! Drazon comes to work, but Neilsen is here, and JD gets hurt!”

Neilsen pushes the crap out of his way and walks over to JD. He grabs him by the hair and rolls him into the ring. JD rolls over a bit as the two men inside are recovering as well. He grabs a chunk of the shattered table, and as Neilsen comes into the ring, JD swings it like a baseball bat… but Neilsen ducks and drapes his arm over Jay Dawg’s chest. JD thinks fast, positioning his elbow behind the neck of Neilsen, he pushes him down with a front facelock, tightening the hold then fires his knee right into the face of Neilsen.

Beezel stands first, firing a shot at Janus. The giant absorbs the blow and stands to his feet. Beezel fires again, but Janus blocks, grabbing Beezel and hits him with a right hand, knocking him back to the corner. Beezel shakes away the cobwebs in the turnbuckle as Janus turns around to face Jay Dawg and Neilsen.

Drazon keeps the chunk of wood, then thrusts forward, swinging the chunk of wood straight for the brains of Neilsen…

But Neilsen ducks, and JD busts the table chunk over the face of Janus! The table shatters upon impact and Janus staggers backward. JD drops the now useless weapon as Janus absorbs the blow to his face. The Hardcore Maniac looks at Janus a little puzzled, and then spots the 350-pound hoss lumbering for him with a clothesline. JD ducks the blow and slides under the bottom ring rope, as Janus steps into a boot to the gut from Neilsen! Neilsen places Janus in a front facelock, and starts to swing, but upon applying the ¾ nelson, Janus pushes him off and to the ropes.

On the outside, JD pulls out another table. He stands it up quickly

Neilsen bounces off the ropes, Janus ducks down and begins to lift him high into the air, but at seven feet, Neilsen locks on a front facelock and spins off! Before Janus can throw him, Neilsen curls his body into the mat, dragging Janus with him as he crushes him with the tornado DDT! Beezel stands in the corner, patiently waiting for Neilsen to stand. He stomps his foot once into the mat, and Neilsen staggers away…

CRACK!!

Eating a roundhouse kick from Beezel! Taking advantage of the opportunity, Beezel makes the cover on Janus.

ONE…

From the outside, JD spots the pinfall and dives into the ring.

TWO…

Grabbing the nearest weapon, JD picks up the golfclub.

THREE…

Janus gets his shoulder up inches before JD can make the save and the count is completed!

Stevens: “Janus saved himself from being pinned off that massive DDT!”

JD lifts the golfclub up, and drives it into the back of Beezel! He turns his attention back to Neilsen and points toward him with the golfclub. JD looks down at Neilsen, placing the golfclub by his face.

“This isn’t for King. This is for me!”

Jay Dawg mutters what everyone knows already, as he pulls back the club, and with perfect execution, swings it with accurate flow…

CRACK!!!

“ARRRFUUUUUUUUUUARRRRRCCCKKKK!!!” curses and shouts Neilsen as he grabs at his jaw in pain. He begins spitting out blood, and feeling inside his mouth. Suddenly, with some of the blood, Neilsen spits out a small white chunk.

Stevens: “JAY DAWG JUST KNOCKED NEILSEN’S TOOTH OFF!!!”

Riley: “I think he broke the son of a bitch!”

Suddenly, from behind, Beezel hooks onto Drazon’s pants and rolls him up with a schoolboy! The crowd pops but not too loud, as they still can’t believe what they just saw with the golfclub.

ONE…

TWO…

JD struggles heavily as Beezel holds tight…

THREE…

NO!!! Jay Dawg gets his shoulder up!

Neilsen starts to stand, not too happy with Jay Dawg, he dives right for him, blood spewing in the process. JD grabs him by the top of the head, and hammers his head forward, right into the jaw of Neilsen with a headbutt!

CRACK!!!

“SONOVA!!!”

Shouts the pissed off Jungle King, as he spits some more blood out and drops to his knees. Beezel suddenly stands behind JD, locking on a full nelson. Janus begins to sit up. Beezel arches backward, throwing Jay Dawg over top of his shoulders, and spikes him to the mat with a Dragon suplex! Beezel bridges his legs up as high as he can, pinning JD purely on his shoulders…

ONE…

The crowd cheers as JD dangles by his head and neck.

TWO…

Janus reaches over, grabbing a hold of Beezel’s ankle…

THREEEEENOO!!

Janus pulls the bridge right out from under Beezel! Drazon crumbles to the mat as Beezel stands up. He ignores Janus, turning his attention back to JD; he pulls him up off the mat.

Neilsen stands once more, feeling his tender jaw and spits out some more blood. He stands behind Beezel as he pulls up Jay Dawg.

Beezel gets the feeling someone is watching him, and after picking up JD, he spins around for a glance, but gets a boot to the gut. Neilsen’s face goes beat red as his eyes insanely pierce forward at Jay Dawg. He locks on a front facelock, but JD dives forward, throwing out an elbow…

CRAAAACCK!!!

Neilsen’s legs buckle as he drops to his knees; Beezel pulls his head to safety.

Janus stands behind Jay Dawg.

Stevens: “Neilsen’s tooth is broken! No one is working as a team! It’s utter chaos I tell yeah!”

JD feels the shadow over top of him, he turns and swings, but Janus plants his right hand firmly over his throat. Janus lifts Jay Dawg high in the air, stalling, letting JD dangle… then drops him to the mat with a powerful chokeslam! Jay Dawg bounces hard as Janus stands tall. He drops to his knees, and calmly hooks the cover, looking forward at Neilsen and Beezel as he does so.

ONE…

Beezel picks up the chair that Neilsen used earlier. He lies it out flat.

TWO…

THREEEEEEEENOO!!!

Jay Dawg shoots his shoulder high into the air, which gets under Janus’ skin.

Beezel takes Neilsen off the mat, and stands by his side. He locks on a half nelson, but Neilsen fires back with a knee to the ribs. Neilsen kicks the chair away and throws Beezel to the ropes. Beezel bounces off the side near the table outside, and Neilsen hits him with a clothesline!

Janus sees the chair lying down, and begins to grin. He pulls JD up from his kneeling position and stands him up and into a front facelock.

Beezel staggers through the ropes from Neilsen’s impact, but hangs onto the middle set. He stands on the ring apron as the Jungle King charges for him. Beezel thrusts his shoulder through the ropes, connecting with the ribs. He pulls Neilsen into a front facelock as well.

Stevens: “Janus is looking to hit his massive Rage Unleashed onto that chair! While Beezel is looking to suplex Neilsen through the table!”

Janus starts to lift, but JD sticks his leg in-between Janus’ with a grapevine.

Beezel lifts Neilsen high into the air, but the Jungle King floats over, landing on the apron on his feet. He kicks Beezel in the gut.

Drazon spins into Janus, placing himself in a sleeper, he ducks down, throwing his elbow up and connecting hard with the same elbow smash that he hit earlier!

Stevens: “That’s twice Jay Dawg countered Janus’ sleeper with an elbow to the jaw!”

Jay Dawg stands beside Janus and fires his boot up, connecting with a front kick to Janus’ jaw! Janus staggers backward from the impact as JD staggers toward Beezel and Neilsen.

Neilsen locks on a front facelock to Beezel.

Janus starts to scurry toward Drazon, but the ICTV champ ducks low…

Neilsen spins the front facelock into a ¾ nelson facelock…

“GGGGGGGGRRRARRRRRGGGHHH!!!” Drazon grunts as he lifts Janus high into the air with a flapjack, crashing him down onto the top rope, and into the back of Beezel…

The top rope nearly breaks from Janus’ impact as he sends both Neilsen and Beezel forward, with Beezel on Neilsen’s shoulder…

CRACK CRASH!!!

Neilsen still connects with the McTwist through the table!

Janus springboards off the top rope, staggering around the ring while gasping at his neck for breath. Jay Dawg rolls his eyes into the back of his head, giving Janus a double finger for the road. He grabs Janus in a ¾ nelson facelock, and drops him straight down with a stunner! Janus doesn’t fall beyond his knees though, but Jay Dawg kips up!

Stevens: “Beezel has been taking out with the McTwist! Janus sent Neilsen through the table! It’s just Jay Dawg and Janus and Jay Dawg just hit a stunner!”

JD grabs the chair that Janus was about to spike his head on, and runs off the ropes. Drazon rebounds with massive momentum, throwing the chair forward…

CRACK

It lands on the face of Janus! Before the Australian giant can move, JD steps off his right leg with his left, and thrusts his right lug forward…

CRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!!!

Annihilating Janus with a Shining Black! Janus eyes roll around with the glazed look, before he collapses onto his chest. Jay Dawg pushes Janus onto his back and lies on top, cradling his leg for the cover.

Stevens: “SHINING BLACK!!! SHINING BLACK!!!”

Riley: “Into the chair! That’s gotta be all for Janus!”

Soapdish checks for any covers on the outside, Beezel and Neilsen show about a foot in between them. Jay Dawg holds the leg tightly as the Soapdish starts the count.

ONE…

TWO…

THREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!

Drazon releases the leg as the ref calls for the bell. Rammstein hits the speakers as once more, the crowd gives a loud, but highly mixed reaction for the ICTV champion. The ref raises his hand as Funyon makes the decision official with his announcement.

Funyon: “The winner of this match via pinfall… THE ICTV CHAMPION… JAMIE ‘JAY DAWG’ DRAZON!!!”

The crowd pops for the announcement of Drazon as the winner, but then switches back to a mixed reaction.

Stevens: “Jamie Drazon scores an impressive victory on his road to Battleground! But one can wonder, does Jay Dawg feel he got his revenge on Neilsen!”

Riley: “If you ask me, yes! He not only beat Neilsen, but two other men tonight!”

Stevens: “But he never beat Neilsen! He only knocked him out of the way!”

Drazon holds his arm up as the victor as the ref passes him his belt. JD raises the belt high then slings it over his shoulder. He glares down at Michelle on the outside, checking on the fallen Neilsen. He grins, but that’s all.

Stevens: “I think Jay Dawg is now focused on a returning Danny Williams for Battleground!”

Riley: “You mean that concussion feeling Magnificent Seven traitor? Bah!”

Stevens: “Folks! Stay tuned! We have more to come!”

Cut to commercial.

April 24, 2003

The SmarkTron displays Janus shuffling slowly backstage, painfully dragging his body back to the Magnificent Seven’s locker room after his brutal Four Corners match, when he suddenly comes to a stop. The crowd in the Richmond Coliseum begins cheering as the cameraman backs away to show that the Hell Machine’s path has been blocked by none other than Johnny Dangerous.

“It’s Johnny Dangerous,” says Mark Stevens. “What does he want with Janus?”

“I don’t know,” replies Bobby Riley, “but if I were him, I’d give Janus a wide berth!”

“I hope you don’t think you’re just going to get away with what you did to my partner,” says Johnny venomously. “You’ve got an ass-whipping coming to you!” Janus looks down his nose at the Barracuda with indignation as he continues talking. “I want a piece of you, you big ape, and I want it right now!”

Janus rolls his eyes as he looks away from the camera, and then suddenly lashes out with his right arm, surprising Johnny by clasping his massive hand around the Barracuda’s throat.

“Janus is going to kill Johnny Dangerous,” crows Riley. “Serves him right for getting in the big man’s business!”

“Now you listen to me, you little gnat,” rumbles the Aussie Monster, “I’m not in the mood to play games with you, so I’m going to make this simple. What I did to your partner was all about business, but if you’re that desperate to get some of me, well then…”

CLANG!

… before Janus can complete his thought, he collapses to the ground in a heap after being knocked senseless by the force of a running chair shot. The cameraman backs away to focus in on the Aussie Monster’s assailant, and the Richmond faithful suddenly explode with excitement as they see that…

“It’s the Wildchild,” screams Stevens, as Wildchild and Johnny begin battering the fallen Hell Machine with steel chairs. “Wild and Dangerous are assaulting Janus!”

“What the hell is going on here,” shouts Bobby Riley.

“Obviously Wildchild is back,” replies Stevens, as Wild and Dangerous pull Janus up and apply a double front facelock, “and he’s looking for some revenge, with a little help from his tag team partner.”

“Little help,” roars Riley. “This is a two-on-one assault on a man who is obviously already fatigued after the Four Corners…”

BANG!

“Dear God,” cries Stevens. “Wild and Dangerous just nailed Janus with a double DDT onto a steel chair!” Wildchild pulls Janus back to his feet and bends him over at the waist. He stands in front of Janus and reaches behind him to grab the Hell Machine’s arms while Johnny grabs a nearby ladder and lays it flat against the ground.

“What does that fool think he’s doing,” yells Riley. “He’ll never get Janus up in the Wild Ride!”

“He will with Johnny helping him,” replies Stevens as the Barracuda assists his partner in turning around, and helps support some of the Aussie Monster’s tremendous weight as Wildchild starts to stand upright.

“Oh no,” moans Stevens. “I think he’s going to…”

WHAAAAMMMM!!!

“Wild Ride,” shouts Stevens. “Dear God! Wild and Dangerous just drilled Janus with a spiked Wild Ride onto that ladder!” The Bahama Bomber scrambles to his feet and stands over the motionless Janus as blood begins to pour out of the top of his head. He opens his mouth, as if about to say something, when his partner abruptly grabbing him by the shoulders suddenly interrupts him.

“’Nic,” shouts Johnny. “Let’s get the hell out of here! The Mag Seven will be here any minute!”

Without taking his eyes off his nemesis, Wildchild growls, “get de car ready.” As the Barracuda runs off towards the parking lot, Wildchild bends down over Janus, scowling with his teeth bared. “Don’ like how ‘dat feels, do you? Well, ‘dat’s how I felt when you attacked me from behind! An’ stole my belt from me!”

Wildchild spits on Janus in disgust. “Dis is only de beginning. I’m gon’ take you out, an’ den I’m gon’ go after alla your Mag Seven friends, an den’ I’m gon’ turn my attention to dat rat-faced Gambler dat be pullin’ alla your strings!”

“THERE HE IS! GET HIM!”

Wildchild is snapped out of his soliloquy by the shouts of Tom Flesher and Judge Hearford. He bends down over Janus once more and mutters, “Dis ain’t over! I ain’t troo wit’ you, not by a long shot!” With that, he darts towards the parking lot, with the Magnificent Seven on his heels. They chase him all the way to the door to the parking lot, but can’t keep up with the lightning-fast Wildchild, who dives into a rental car driven by Johnny Dangerous, and races off into the Virginia night. The cameraman briefly stops to focus on the angry countenances of Fugue and Ejiro before traveling back inside the Coliseum to show the remaining members of the Magnificent Seven, who had stopped running after they’d reached their fallen comrade.

“Wildchild just made himself a few enemies,” remarks Stevens.

“That’s putting it mildly,” replies Riley. “That kid just signed his own death warrant! Nobody but nobody crosses the M7!” The cameraman stops to show the simmering Tom Flesher and Judge Hearford, staring off towards the parking lot, and then points down to focus on Janus, lying on the floor with blood continuing to flow from his head

As we:

FADE OUT

April 24, 2003

The boos can be heard backstage as we return to Lockdown and find King sitting at his desk. He writes frantically with his pen with his free hand on his head, showing his frustration. Through his closed door, he can hear two voices in the hallway…

“Dude…Kingsly is cool,” says one of the voices. “He’ll do it. Watch.”

“I don’t know brah,” replies the second voice. “Don’t you think we’re bothering him too much dude?”

King sits up inside his office and visibly rolls his eyes while the fans cheer a bit. “I don’t need this,” he mutters to himself.

“Dude…it won’t hurt to ask. Stop being a wuss and come on.”

That’s when the door swings open, and an exhausted looking Kris and Kross slide into the room. King returns back to writing, shaking his head at the twins.

“Do you boys believe in knocking?” asks King in his most annoying voice.

“Sorry Kingsly, but this is important brah,” Kris says, not the least bit apologetic. “Dude…we want another shot at……”

Kris looks at his brother to fill in the blank, but the only blank Kross has is the look on his face.

“Justice & Rule?” King interjects, knowing exactly what the boys want.

“Dude,” replies Kross.

“Yeah, I figured as much,” says King, obviously making fun of the two slackers in his own head, which still hasn’t lifted from the paper on which he is writing. “Sorry boys, can’t help ya.”

“Dude…come on,” pleads Kris. “You SO want to give us another shot Kingsly. You know you do.”

“Yeah brah,” repeats Kross. “You definitely wanna give us another shot.”

“Is that so?” asks King rhetorically. “Ok, so humor me. Give me one good reason why you two deserve another shot.”

“Dude, that’s easy.”

“Yeah…that’s SO easy brah.”

“Uhhhhh…”

“Ummmm…”

Kris and Kross look at each other, trying to find the answer, and they both smile as if they found the answer at the same time.

“Dude…cause we’re Déjà Vu,” exclaims both twins. King glances up from his paper just long enough to crack a smile, which the twins see and try to use to their advantage.

“See dude…you SO wanna give us a shot,” says Kross trying to jump on the opportunity.

“Don’t deny it dude,” chimes in Kris. “You know you want to.”

“Listen guys…I’m sorry, but I can’t,” says King, somewhat apologetic as well. “You just lost to them, and didn’t they just kick your asses when you tried to attack them in their locker room?”

“Yeah but…”

“Exactly,” interrupts King. “And, on top of that, there are other tag teams here that deserve a shot at the titles.”

“Dude,” says Kross. “You know that’s SO not true. Like there’s someone here that deserves the shot more than us?”

“Besides,” reenters Kris, “everybody loves us.”

“What about Wild & Dangerous?” asks King.

“Who?” asks both twins, looking at each other again.

“Wildchild and Johnny Dangerous,” answers King, once again becoming aggravated. “You guys got your shot, and now it’s time to let another tag team get a shot. That’s how the business works. If you two would take it more seriously, you would know that…or maybe you wouldn’t have lost the shot you had. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have enough to worry about with Neilson and that tramp to hear anymore talk about how you two deserve another shot at Justice & Rule.”

“Dude, we SO kicked their asses already, didn’t we,” says Kross. “You can’t give them a shot over us.”

“First of all,” says King angrily as he rises from his chair, “ I’m the commissioner. Don’t tell me what I can and can’t do. Secondly, yes, you did beat them, but then you lost when you got your shot. And, if we’re being honest here…not only did you embarrass yourselves out there last week, but you embarrassed your opponents, the SWF, and most importantly, ME!”

Thinking quickly, Kris jumps in with an idea, “What if we promised you that we’d beat them this time?”

“Yeah, cause that might happen,” answers King sarcastically. “Look, you guys need to start at the bottom and work your way up again.”

“Dude, that’s so unfair. Come on…we’ll do anything to prove to you that it’ll be different this time.” King shakes his head “no” and Kris and Kross turn to leave, dejected and disappointed. King starts to sit back down, but when he looks at the paper on his desk, he immediately pops back up.

“Wait a second guys,” says King with a little more pep in his voice. “I might be able to help you after all.”

“Dude…I told you Kingsly would come through,” yells Kris to Kross. “When are we gonna get the shot brah?”

“Ok, ok…calm down. First, hear me out,” says King, nearly bouncing out of his own shoes with excitement. “I’m going to give you two another shot, but you’re going to have to do something for me first.”

“Dude, anything.”

“As you know, I’m having a tiny little problem with Neilson of the Jungle,” King continues. Kris and Kross just look at each other as if King just asked them to do long division. “Yeah, I thought so, but it doesn’t matter. I need you two to take out Neilson in a handicap match on Smarkdown. Can you do that?”

“Uhhhh, sure. We guess,” answers Kross for the two of them. “What about our title shot?”

“Right,” remembers King. “Here’s what I’ll do. I still have to give Wild & Dangerous a shot, so I’ll make the match a three way. Déjà Vu versus Wild & Dangerous versus Justice & Rule for the tag titles at Battleground. How’s that?”

“DUDE!!! You SO rock the party Kingsly!!”

“And you know what…I’ll do you one better,” continues King. “Since you boys are helping me out, I’ll give you guys a little extra help for the match, and I”ll make it a Tables, Ladders, and Chairs match.”

The fans outside can be heard screaming and cheering for the match, albeit, not too happy about Kris and Kross helping King.

“Dude…that’s SO awesome!! You rock Kingsly!”

“Yeah…that’s exactly the match we wanted brah! You, like, totally read our minds!”

“You don’t know what a TLC match is, do you?” says King confidently, yet somewhat amused.

“Uhhh…dude! Of course we do! We’re not stupid brah.”

“Riiiiiggghhhhttttt,” says King sarcastically. “Anyway, that ought to help you out a little in the match. So, we’re all set then. You’ll take out Neilson on Smarkdown for me, and I’ll give you boys a tag team titles match for Battleground.”

“Dude!”

Kris and Kross dart behind King’s desk and give him a huge hug that makes everyone I the arena crack up…well, everyone except King of course.

“Kingsly rocks the party!!”

“Get off me,” King yells, not really annoyed, but more not wanting people to see him being nice. Kris and Kross let go quickly, as not to ruin their chance at the PPV, and start to head to the door.

“Thanks Kingsly! You rock!”

Kris and Kross hit the door, and the last thing you hear Kris say to Kross is, “Dude, what’s a TLC match?” Kross answers Kris’s question with a question of his own, “Forget that dude. Who’s Neilson of the Jungle?”

The boys disappear from sight, and the camera pans back over to King, who shakes his head, and while smiling, mumbles to himself, “Those boys.” King chuckles and heads back to his paper work while Lockdown heads to commercial.

April 24, 2003

Backstage, we see a door.

Not just any door, as the logo helpfully demonstrates, this is Taylor Nicholas Thompson's dressing room.

Speaking of which, the man himself appears next to his door, working the cap loose off a bottle of water. He takes a second to acknowledge Ben Hardy who was walking by, with an icepack on his jaw.

TNT: Ya'll right, Ben?

Ben: Eh, don't ask ...

TNT: Heh ...

As he opens the door with his bulging back, we see that there's already someone inside. All Taylor can see is a pair of feet resting off the arm rest, as the person appears to be resting on the couch. The TV monitor is also playing, as we can hear what appears to be the tape of an old Storm broadcast. Taylor's music is clearly heard ...

The crowd gives a heated, if divided, reaction as AC/DC's "Thunderstruck" begins to blare over the speakers and the arena is bathed in red and orange strobes. The SmarkTron reads "T-N-T" as Taylor Nicholas Thompson steps through the curtain to a reaction that's half huge pop and have savage heat. Just as a loud "Watch me exploooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooode!" echoes through the arena, the United States Champion begins to walk to the ring. He walks to the ring, then jumps up on the apron. Instead of his standard flipping off, he simply points to his title belt. Most of the crowd pops, and after he nods looking satisfied, TNT enters the ring.

"And his opponent, from Anaheim, California and weighing in at 267 pounds, this is your SWF US Champion, Taylor Nicholas Thompson... T-N-T!!!!!!!!!"

"Boooo!"

Chunks of popcorn can be seen flying towards the TV screen. He knows that annoying voice all too well ...

"Fuck it, let's just fast-forward to the best part ..."

The figure pops up so he can press the FFW button on the video ... as we clearly see the crimson red "Tod deKindes" lettering on the back of a black t-shirt.

TNT: (letting out a disgusted sigh, he muttered to himself) … What now?

...

As Tod monitors the tape's progress, he looks up ... and sees TNT hulking presence standing tall over him.

Tod: (naturally caught by surprise) Oh hey champ! Heh ...

TNT: I got two questions for you.

Tod: Really, do te--...

TNT: 1) What the fuck are you doing here? and 2) Get the fuck out.

Tod: Ooh! Wait, best part!

The monitor comes back to life, as we see the closing seconds of the match...

Flesher looks down at his arm and winces, but wears a look of determination. He crouches down and locks his hands around Thompson's waist, then lifts him into a gutwrench. With TNT hanging limply, Flesher grimaces and lifts his opponent high, then holds him upside-down for an instand before sitting to the mat and driving TNT's neck into the ground!

"EGO BUSTER!!!!!!!" says Riley, extremely excited.

"That's what Flesher used to beat TNT in their last singles match," points out Stevens.

"WOOHOO!!!!!!"

Flesher rolls TNT over to his back, then covers him, still holding his arm painfully. Jim Stine counts

ONE

TWO

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

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

The fans burst into a chorus of boos as Flesher sits up to his knees and "I Am The Man" begins to play over the sound system. Funyon announces, "Your winner and now three- time United States Champion, the Light Heavyweight Champion, TOM FLESHER!"

"What a match from both of these competitors!" says Stevens. "Excellent work from both men, but tonight, Flesher was just..."

"SUPERIOR! The superior three-time champion! The superior double champ, again! KIYAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

Stine hands Flesher the US Title, and Flesher quickly rolls out of the ring, making sure to grab the Light Heavyweight Title on his way. Holding his sore left arm, he staggers to the back.

Obviously not one of his proudest moments, TNT frowns ...

TNT: Is there a point, here!?

Tod: See, I've been watching some tapes. And this one, man. Ouch. You actually lost the U.S. title in FOUR DAYS! I mean, really, OUCH!

TNT: Yeah, but you lost it to Annie.

Tod: Yeah well -- (thinks it over for a second) ... Shut up! My point is that I STILL think that ... (stands up) I STILL think that you're pathetic! This JOKE of a title match where Flesher DESTROYED you makes me SICK! Need I remind you that *I*, ME, I was able to wrest that title from his hands after a LONG and hard fought battle! And I even held that title for a glorious 49 days! That's 40 days more than YOU'LL ever have!

TNT: (doing the math in his head) Don't you mean ...

Tod: Never mind!

TNT: All right, enough! (reaches over to turn off the TV) You've done nothing but piss me off ever since you got back. I dunno what the HELL it is you're trying to do. But for now I'll be patient and not tear your head off. And if I ever catch you snooping around my stuff again, I won't hesitate to send you back home for another couple months. Permanently, if we're all lucky ...

Tod: ... (clears throat) ... You're facing Frost tonight, aren't ya? With Flesher as guest referee and all.

TNT: (sigh) ... Right.

Tod: That Frost. He's one tough mother jammer. (breaks into a half-grin) ... Good luck.

In one crisp move, he hopped over the couch and backed out of the room, keeping his eyes locked with TNT ...

Once he was gone, TNT yanked out the tape from the video and casually broke it in half as a sign of utter annoyance.

As he throws the remains aside, we fade ...

April 24, 2003

“Hey folks,” starts off ‘Grand Slam’ as we return from commercial, “before this next match gets underway, The Suicide King has made a ruling.”

“Regarding what exactly?” asks Riley as he carefully nudges his personal Swedish penis enlarger back underneath the commentary desk.

“About this next match, Bobby,” replies Stevens, “Don’t worry, you can ... sigh... still attach the pump to your magic wand.”

“Nice,” replies Riley as he starts to cast an illusion underneath the desk that would Harry Potter blush.

“Because of all the goings on in the earlier match between Judge Hearford and Kris, The Suicide King has banned both of those men from coming to ringside for this next contest. But thankfully, we have both men standing by backstage wearing microphones and watching the monitors so we can still gain their insight into this important contest. Judge Hearford, are you there?”

The camera switches to the sight of The Judge standing in the back with a headset draped over his sweaty brow. “Yeah, I’m here Stevens.”

“And how about you, Kris?”

Sitting back in a recliner, also backstage sits Kris as he answers, “You got it ‘Grand Slam’,” replies Kris, “HOW ARE YOU JUDGERS?”

“What the devil are you doing?” asks Riley as raises an eyebrow high into the air.

“Judgicans is way old, so I have to yell for him to hear me. RIGHT JUDGERINO?”

“...”

“Maybe I should yell louder?”

“Hold that thought Kris,” replies Stevens, “We are just about ready for the ring introductions.”

Funyon stands tall in the center of the ring and shouts on out, “Ladies and gentlemen, this contest is scheduled for ONE fall. Introducing first...”

“Sellout” by Biohazard roars into the arena as Ejiro pops through the curtain with his hooded sweatshirt tied up tightly around his head and his tag belt wrapped around his waist. Stepping up to the middle rope of the outside of the ring, Fasaki whips off his World Tag Team Title belt and shows it to the crowd for just a moment before displaying it high in the air.

FLOOOOOOOOOOOOOSH!

Jets of flame rise from the turnbuckles as Ejiro’s arm lowers back to his side, stepping over the top and into the ring. Handing the title belt to a ringside attendant, Ejiro Fasaki warms up as Funyon finishes his announcement.

“He weighs in tonight at 189 pounds and hails from Sarasota, Florida. He is also one half of the World Tag Team Champions and a member of the Magnificent Seven. Allow me to present, EEEEEJIROOOOO FASAKIIIIII!”

“And right there in the ring is a real athlete,” states The Judge over his microphone, “Ejiro is not some punk kid who just wandered into this business one day. He is a wrestler who takes his craft way more seriously than some people I could mention.”

“Dude, Stevens,” replies Kris, “Should Judgeronimo really be talking about Danny Williams that way?”

“And his opponent...”

“Oh yeah, here comes the best part of the show!” states Kris as a certain song breaks through the Richmond crowd.

The sound of Nappy Roots brings the crowd to their feet as they scan the arena for a certain special someone. Finally the spotlight finds Kross coming through the crowd as the leaps over the ringside barrier before slapping hands with every smiling face around the ring. Finally spreading enough joy to the people, Kross climbs up to the top rope and raises his arms to the people as they give him a strong ovation in response. Dropping into the middle of the ring, Kross stares across the ring as Funyon completes his introductions...

“Weighing in at 209 pounds and hailing from the land where even I can have sex with pretty attractive women, Las Vegas, Nevada... THIS IS KROSSSS!”

“HA!” laughs Kris; “Funyon just zinged us again! I told you guys that was going to be the best part of the shows.”

“You are such dimwit,” replies Hearford. “Don’t you understand that Ejiro and I have forgotten more about wrestling than you too will ever learn.”

“Brah, to be fair you’ve probably forgotten everything from your phone number to the name of your kids, Judy.”

“I don’t have any kids you punk!”

“Oh my god, its worse than I thought,” Kris replies with a wink and a nudge.

As the people watching at home mark one point down for Kris, the bell rings and the physical match is underway. Immediately taking command, the veteran chops into Kross low with a rising knee to the stomach before immediately sending the youngster into the ropes and catching him on the rebound with a hard elbow across the sternum that sends the rookie down to the canvas. Stomping away with authority, Ejiro kicks away at his wounded rival with reckless abandon as Kross tries to roll away to some semblance of safety. Finally pulling the twin to his feet, Ejiro whips him across the ring and drops his head for a backdrop a bit too early.

“Counter with the sunset flip!” calls out Stevens as Kross leaps over the top and pulls Ejiro to the mat by the thighs. Dropping to the mat, Eddy Long counts away quickly.

ONE!

TWONNOOOOOO!

Rolling strait back out of the pinning combination, Ejiro Fasaki immediately pulls Kross’ legs strait up before driving a knee strait down into Kross’ groin!

“Oh damn,” squeaks Kris over his microphone, “I could feel that all the way in here. Must be that twin connection thing that Unsolved Mysteries was always talking about.”

“Hell, I felt that I’m not even related,” answers Judge.

Holding onto the legs as Long warns the wrestler about the low blow Ejiro quickly bounds over the top while holding onto Kross with a rolling cradle.

ONE!

TWO!

THNOOOOOOOOO!

Punching up with both hands, Kross breaks the cradle with a double shot to the ribs. Falling off his opponent, Ejiro holds onto his chest for a moment while Kross works to shrug off the attack to his groin. Rising up to his feet first, Ejiro tries to keep Kross on the mat with an elbow drop but the quicker wrestler rolls out of the way in time. Mashing his own right elbow into the mat, Ejiro screams as he jams his potent striking weapon. Rising up, Ejiro is soon taken right back to the mat as Kross applies the stunning move Tony would call the full arm drag and twist!

“Oh how do you like that Junior Mint?” yells out Kris from the safety of another room, “Brah so had a plan and junk! What do you think of that?”

Twisting the arm again and again as Ejiro shouts out in pain, Kross continues to apply the pressure until Ejiro finally ends up flipping onto his back in order to relieve some of the torque. But before Fasaki can come up with anything else, Kross is already prepared as he drops a leg down across the arm before slapping on a more standard armbar. Pressing against the shoulder, Kross smiles as he nods to the camera. Railing against the pain, Ejiro puts his left hand against the chin of his opponent and pushes him up to a vertical base.

“You see that?” asks The Judge, “See Ejiro knows how to counter just about anything this kid can throw at him. There’s nothing that Kross can do that...”

WHAM!

“ARGHHHH!” screams Ejiro from the ring as he falls back to his knees to the joy of the entire crowd.

“What was that?” questions The Judge.

“Dead leg,” replies Kris matter-of-factly. “What they didn’t carve that on the tablets you learned how to wrestle from Judgerpants?”

Down on the mat again, Ejiro can not put up a defense as Kross pulls him up into a doubled over position. Grabbing Ejiro by the arm and pulling it out away from Fasaki’s body, Kross kicks upward into the shoulder and knocks Fasaki strait back to the mat. Exposing the arm once again, Kross takes a short hop into the air before crushing down on top of the appendage with a knee. Grabbing the arm in a knuckle lock as Fasaki lies on the mat, Kross wrenches away as Ejiro struggles against the pain. Pushing the arm into a better position, Kross manages to put on a perfect variation of the top key lock.

“This is not going to stop Ejiro and you know it,” murmurs Judge Hearford, “Justice and Rule wrote the book on wrestling!”

“Dude,” replies Kris, “We so totally know that! We got a copy last week at Borders!” Kris reaches underneath his recliner and pulls out a copy of ‘Rules of the Ring’ a new book by Justice and Rule, with a forward by Tony Stetson. “It taught us all about arm bars!”

“Damn you Harper Collins!”

With Ejiro prone on the mat once again, Kross lowers an elbow down across Fasaki’s shoulder to continue to hold an advantage. Snapping the arm down suddenly, Kross continues to press against the injury as Ejiro grunts out in pain and frustration. Pulling the wounded warrior off the mat, Kross presses Ejiro into a corner using the injured limb as a fulcrum. Wrapping the arm around the top rope, Kross snaps off a punch that snaps the unsuspecting chin of the tag team champion back like a rubber band.

POP!

Another Bobby Eaton fist sends Ejiro slumping into the corner as Kross ponders what exactly he should try and pull off next. Tossing Ejiro into the opposite corner, Kross slams the tag champion into the corner so hard that he comes stumbling out in a wounded trance. Hitting the ropes for momentum behind the stammered Fasaki, Kross rebounds back and slams his head into the mat with a bulldog face buster!

“Cover him Brah!”

ONE!

TWO!

THRNOOOOOOO!

“Kris,” asks Stevens, “what if any strategy did Kross think up for this confrontation?”

“Okay, check this Marky Mark, we figured that if Kross could take away Fasaki’s main point of attack, Kross would so totally be able to wear the guy down and hit something big for the finish! We’d go for the tap out and all, but that isn’t our forte man. It’s all about keeping Jiry off balance right now.”

“My god,” answers Riley, “That actually made some sense.”

“Dude, you should hear my dissertation on the historical impact of economic instability in the Asian markets on American consumers. It was so totally boss!”

With Ejiro’s back off the mat, Kross controls him once again with an armbar as Ejiro struggles against the cobwebs gained from the bulldog as well as the injury to his right elbow. Yanking down on the arm and snapping it down, Kross tries to hyperextend the joint as Fasaki cries out in pain. Wrapping up the arm in a wristlock again, Kross seems content to hold on as Ejiro fights against the pain. Working up to his feet, Ejiro leans into cross with a shoulder as the twin tries to hold him down. Finally pushing Kross back into a corner, Fasaki forces Eddy Long to step in and force a break. Finally freed from the armbar, Ejiro sneaks in a quick knee to the gut. Finally having an opening, Ejiro uncorks an elbow to the side of the head.

WHAM!

POP! POP! POP!

Firing back immediately, Kross shrugs off the elbow with ease and strikes back with a flurry of right hands to the top of the head. Backing Fasaki all the way to the center of the ring, Kross quickly reaches down and spikes Ejiro into the mat with a scoop slam!

“SCOOP SLAM! SCOOP BY GAWD SLAM!” roars Kris with great enthusiasm as the rest of the commentators shrug in confusion.

“You kids need some Ritalin,” remarks The Judge off handily as Kris looks on happily.

Quickly scaling to the top turnbuckle, as Ejiro lies on the mat in a twisted heap, Kross looks to put this thing away with something high risk. Finally up on top, Kross zeros in for a moment before leaping into the air for a senton bomb!

CRACK!

“Ejiro got the knees up!” calls Stevens.

“You bet your ass he did! Kross just destroyed his own back and all Ejiro had to do was wait for the rookie to make a mistake!”

Locking onto his back, Kross screams out in pain as Ejiro slowly gets his wits about him once again so he can finally get this match swinging back his way without using his elbow. Snatching Kross off the mat with his good arm, Ejiro crushes him down across his knee with a pendulum backbreaker that buys Fasaki even more time to formulate a plan. Maybe he should ask Judge Hearford.

“What Ejiro needs to do right now,” mentions his partner, “is to use the high impact maneuvers to try and put Kross away as fast as possible. With that wounded elbow, Fasaki is not going to be able to wear Kross down that he would normally. It would be a better idea to try and take Kross out right now while his guard is down.”

“Damn, Judgebert, you should write a book!”

“I did! You were just holding it!”

“Huh?”

Following the advice of his partner without knowing the advice had even been given, Ejiro uses his good arm to immediately pull Kross back up to a standing position just long enough to slip in at his side and snap him to the canvas with a Russian legsweep.

But instead of going for the cover, Ejiro decides to wear Kross down a bit more first before going for the win. Standing Kross up and setting him up for what appears to be a powerbomb, Ejiro instead lifts Kross up to his left shoulder and pulls down with an Argentine backbreaker!

“That’s a really odd departure in style for the usually mat based Ejiro Fasaki,” remarks Stevens, “Maybe he’s been holding back some power maneuvers while facing larger opponents. But now that he’s taking on a fellow cruiserweight, he’s breaking them out of the mothballs.”

But even 209 pounds is a lot to hold onto as Kross immediately begins to work away at Ejiro’s grip with some awkward punches to the hands. Fighting fiercely, Kross finally breaks Fasaki’s hand and releases most of the pressure on the hold. Leaning to one side, Kross tumbles off of Ejiro and slings him into the mat with a rapid-fire armdrag! Both men roll to their feet in an instant and rush towards each other.

WHAM!

“Despite the pain, Ejiro still uses that elbow for effect!” calls out Stevens. “But we are just going to wait and see just how effective that strike is going to be later on in the contest.”

Lifting up Kross from behind, Ejiro looks to bury him with a belly-to-back suplex only to have the quicker opponent float right on over the top and landing on his feet! Snatching at the arm once again, Kross pulls it over his shoulder for just a second before crunching downward with a devastating armbreaker. Grabbing Ejiro by his wounded wing, Kross sends him across the ring with an Irish whip but Fasaki counters with a quick spin that causes the twin to meat the turnbuckle instead. Rushing forward, Ejiro tries to go on the attack but is met coming in with a rising foot to the face!

WHAM!

“Oh man,” calls out Kris, “Ejiro has to be counting his teeth right now. Of course Judgero would only have to be worried about the wood in his dentures giving him a splinter.”

“They don’t make dentures out of wood anymore you dimwit!”

“Well, you would be the foremost expert.”

Climbing up to the top as quickly as he can, Kross aims right at Fasaki as the tag team champion staggers back to the center of the ring. Taking flight, Kross comes swooping down with a flying body attack!

BOOM!

“ELBOW TO THE DAMN FACE!” shouts Stevens as Ejiro smashes into the falling twin with all of his might.

With Kross slamming into the canvas at one hundred miles per hour, Ejiro takes a moment to scream out in pain, as his bruised elbow really wasn’t up to doing that amount of damage at the time. Flexing out the joint as well as possible right now, Ejiro moves to pick up the pieces of the shattered twin. Hooking Kross up in a front facelock, Fasaki strains mightily as he hoists Kross high up into the air with a suplex.

BOMB!

“ORANGE CRUSH POWERBOMB!” shouts out Stevens as Ejiro crunches Kross into the mat with one huge maneuver!

ONE!

TWO!

THREE!

Funyon calls into his microphone, “The winner of this contest, EEEEEJRIOOOO FASAKIIIIIIIIIII!”

“YEAH!” shouts Hearford, “How do you like that you punk kid? Don’t you understand that you two are not even worth our time?”

“Why don’t you shut up, old man!” shouts Kris finally angered by the sight of his brother’s loss, “You think that this is over? Nothing is over until we decide it is! Deja Vu might be a whole lot of bad things, Judge. But we’re not quitters and sooner or later, you’re going to have to deal with that! And believe me old timer, we’re going to be around a lot longer than you.”

“Maybe... maybe not,” answers The Judge ominously as he lets loose an evil chuckle.

Stevens interjects, “Well, with that, we’re going to have to let you two gentlemen go, we are just seconds away from commerc...”

***Fade to Black***

April 24, 2003

The Richmond Coliseum lights up like the Rotunda at UVA did so long ago, and SWF Lockdown has returned!! Every single East Coaster who has come to see their favorite competitors are on their feet, just about blowing the roof off of the stadium with deafening cheers! Dozens upon dozens of signs dot the amped audience, from “CRAVEN WILL LEARN SO MUCH!!” to “Kriss Kross will make you Jump Jump,” and the camera pans away, until it finally settles down on our two most beloved commentators.

“Welcome back ladies, gents, and everything in between to SWF LOCKDOWN!!” Grand Slam says in his best car salesman voice.

“Oh come on Canned Spam, skip your usual crap introduction for once and just cut to the chase. I’ve got a couch, bowl of popcorn, and stack of old Burt Reynolds movies to get back home to, you know,” Bobby Riley rudely interrupts, scowling at his fellow commentator.

“Well, for once I concur Bobby, because this is one match that we don’t want to waste ANY time getting to! We’ve had quite an action-packed night, but just about everything that’s happened so far has been buildup to the proverbial climax that is our MAIN EVENT!! About a month ago, Taylor Nicholas Thompson and his partner and friend, Robert Jackson Frost, squared off in the ring, one on one, with TNT’s shot at El Luchadore Magnifico’s World Heavyweight Title on the line! The explosive one came out on top in that bout and now, come almost-PPV time again, these two are going to go at it once more!”

“But tell ‘em the best part, Marky Mark!” Bobby begs, using puppy dog eyes to his advantage.

“Regardless of who comes out on top in this scuffle, a win here could mean a shot at Tom Flesher and his coveted World Title, a man who both of these wrestlers would like to get their hands on, and a belt that they’d both like to have in their trophy collection, I’m sure.”

“Nononono… the BEST part, ya dumbass!”

Mark sighs.

“Number one, kids watch this show.”

“Well gee Mark, I’m sorry for embarrassing you then. I know how much you cherish your reputation with the youngsters.”

Make that two sighs.

“Number two, just to humor you… As a rather interesting stipulation for this match, Tom Flesher himself will be the guest referee. I hardly see how that’s the ‘best part,’ though, because I really can’t see this leading to anything good.”

“I can!!” Bobby shouts before being thrown into a fit of menacing laughter.

“…Alllllrighty. Well then, we ended up wasting some time there after all, but we don’t want to waste any MORE, so we take you down now to Funyon, who is ready to introduce our competitors!”

The screen cuts to the ring and viewers across the nation are immediately treated to the sight of Funyon in a yellow and purple nylon tux. Television’s most charismatic man waves to the crowd and gets a pretty decent pop for his efforts before bringing his microphone up to his lips, and…

“Ladies and gentlemen and Bobby Riley…”

“Grumble…”

“It is now time for our MAIN EVENT!!!!”

The crowd goes bananas with excitement and anticipation, but their cheers quickly turn to boos as a blaze of blue pyro flares up from the stage. “Kashmir” by Led Zeppelin funks from the loudspeakers, foreshadowing Tom Flesher’s arrival! The Superior One himself emerges from the depths of the smoke left behind from the pyro and strides down the entrance ramp with great poise! Phrases like “MAGNIFICENT SEVEN” and “SUPERIOR ONE” flash on the Smarktron as the World Champion, dressed appropriately in black short-shorts and a pinstriped polo shirt slides into the ring and poses in the center, his World Title Belt wrapped around his shoulder with pride.

*** BOOMBOOMBOOMBOOMBOOM ***

Several more pyros machine gun up from the ring posts as “Kashmir’s” hook kicks in. Tom ambles over to Funyon and kisses his World Title before handing it over to the ring announcer. The Magnificent Seven leader’s music fades out but the fans’ boos don’t, as Tom hands a small index card to Funyon as well. Tons-O-Fun squints down at the card and sighs, before reluctantly reading Tom’s ritualistic introduction…

“Introducing first… our special guest referee for this match… hailing from Buffalo, New York, and weighing in at 213 pounds… the best damn referee to ever grace the ring, Mark Hebner squared, a man who doesn’t have to wear stripes to look thinner… he iiiiiis the Superior One, YOUR SWF WORLD CHAMPION… TOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM…” Funyon stops short and, as the card suggests, points to the audience to let them finish the introduction!

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!” the crowd says, and Tom merely scowls before telling Funyon to do it himself.

“FLESHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEERRRRRR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

“Not a very positive reaction for the champ here, eh Riley?”

“It’s only natural for the fans to be intimidated by such a presence and boo him out of spite, Mark.”

Tom basks in the negativity by giving a deep bow, but before the crowd even has a chance to reach the climax of their booing extravaganza, “TNT” by AC/DC initiates with a single guitar riff. A few “Oy’s” lead right into Taylor Thompson’s arrival! The explosive one steps out into the orange strobe lights that consume the stage and the crowd goes wild, but Taylor’s composure is utterly impassive as he intently marches down the entrance ramp!

“WATCH ME EXPLOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOODE!!!!!”

*** BOOMBOOMBOOMBOOM ***

TNT stops at the midpoint of the ramp just long enough to hear Bon Scott’s vocal culmination before continuing down the ramp and sliding into the ring. The crowd is still on their feet, but tonight Taylor doesn’t play to them at all, instead deciding to keep his eyes cemented on Tom Flesher, not faltering even for a second.

“Secondly… wrestling out of Anaheim, California, and weighing in at a dynamite 266 pounds… TNT… Taaaaaaaaaaaaaylor Nicholaaaaaaaaassssssssss Thooooooooooooompsoooooooooooooooooooooooonnnn!!!”

Every soul in the arena is cheering at this point, except for Tom Flesher and Taylor Thompson, who simply drill holes into each other with their eyes, attempting to make the other man crack. TNT’s face is like stone, both motionless and emotionless, while Tom Flesher just smirks, knowing that Taylor can’t do much of anything to hurt him.

“Obviously there’s some bad blood between these two, since Taylor lost his World Title to Taamo not too long ago, but tonight I think that TNT should be concentrating more on beating his opponent than beating the referee,” Mark comments.

“Especially when the referee is unbeatable… and dead sexy in short-shorts, I might add,” Riley fawns.

*** BOOM ***

Without warning, “TNT” is cut off as silvery pyro suddenly explodes from the rafters, causing quite the spectacle for the cheering crowd! “Snowblind” by Black Sabbath blares from the Richmond Arena’s speaker system and a pale blue spotlight illuminates the entire entrance ramp, along a snow-esque substance that flutters down from the rafters. Frost appears from behind the backstage curtain, garnering a huge pop! The Iceman from Iceland raises a single clenched fist into the air and purposefully saunters down the entrance ramp, the crowd cheering him on all the way, before sliding into the squared circle, ready to get down to business.

“Last but not least… wrestling out of Reykjavik, Iceland, and weighing an abominable 296 pounds… the Velvet Hammer… FROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOSSSSSST!!!!!!!!!”

“And listen to this reaction!”

“What, the crickets?”

Frost shoots a quick respectful glance at TNT, and then directs his attention towards Flesher, snarling aggressively at his former partner and taking his cigar out of his mouth to flick it at his enemy. The crowd cheers wildly for that, but Tom is appalled, wasting no time in asking Funyon if he can count that as a DQ! Funyon shakes his head “no” much to Tom’s disappointment, and the Superior One opts to just pointing a finger of warning at Frost and muttering a few inaudible words to him in the process. Frost shrugs off Tom’s threats, showing that he’s not afraid of the World Champion at all, and then turns to face TNT, meeting eyes with his trusted ally. Frost extends a hand to Taylor and TNT reaches forward to warmly accept the mutual display of respect, but Tom panics, backing the two away from each other and screaming at them to keep themselves separated until the match begins!

“Oh come on!” Mark is disgusted. “Tom won’t even let these two shake hands before the match. If this is how he’s going to act as referee for the rest of this match, then folks, we’re in for a wild ride…”

“Who knows what tomfoolery could come about from a handshake Mark!? You can’t be too careful. That’s Tom’s motto!”

”…No it’s not.”

“It is now!”

Funyon exits the ring and Tom takes some extra time to scrutinize every last detail of Frost and TNT’s boots and tights, making sure that they have no foreign objects to use later in the match. After about two minutes of this, it gets ridiculous as Tom gets around to checking behind Frost’s ears! The crowd is booing furiously!

“Really now. As partners and pals, I don’t think that these two would cheat against each other, or against anyone, for that matter… stop stalling, Flesher!” Stevens demands.

“Make sure to triple check with the cavity searches, Tommy! Haha!”

Some empty beer cups soar down into the ring and Flesher finally takes a hint, announcing that both men are clean! He quickly explains the rules to both competitors, making it blatantly clear that he will NOT hesitate to disqualify either man for even the slightest charge and putting special emphasis on the fact that he’ll be calling the match straight down the middle. And with that, after one of the most tedious prematch rituals of all time, Tom signals for the bell, and this match is underway!

*** DING DING DING ***

“And here we go… we’re in for one wild ride!” Mark predicts.

“We’re merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily off to nowheeere in particular!” Bobby sings, garnering only an annoyed frown from Stevens.

Flesher signals for the two behemoths to go at it and, with only enough stalling time to shoot a quick glance of respect at one another, the two members of Chilly Chilly Bang Bang lock up in the center of the ring!

“And these two have decided to start this match with a test of strength!” Mark says as he looks on in awe. “Frost has the slight size advantage here, and… wait, here we go!”

Neither man can get the other to budge for a few seconds, as the two seem evenly matched. Just as Tom is about to break up the hold out of boredom, Frost plants a foot into the mat, and uses his footing to press TNT backwards a step! Then another! Then another! Before long Taylor has reeled all the way back into the ring post, and the instant his back touches the turnbuckle, Tom is there to make the count!

“onetwothreefourfi—!!” the Superior One blurts out in hardly a second, causing Frost to immediately release his hold on his partner.

Frost has no problem making the clean break, but he delivers a slightly annoyed glare at Flesher anyway, obviously noticing the speed of his count.

“Did you see that??” Mark asks.

“…We’re watching the same monitor, man.”

“Tom pounced into action as quickly as a minx and delivered that five-count for the break, but the five-count was so fast it could have been passed off as a one-count!” Stevens complains. “Tom may not necessarily want TNT to win, but he sure seems to want Frost to lose, and he’s looking rather eager to find an excuse to disqualify the giant snowman!”

“Or maybe he’s just trying to piss both of them off, eh?”

“I wouldn’t be surprised…”

Frost backs out into the center of the ring again, and TNT follows suit, as the two circle each other once, twice… and then lock up a second time!! This time however, when Frost begins to inevitably gain the advantage, Taylor shifts his weight over to Frost’s side and latches on a side headlock!

“TNT’s strength wasn’t in favor, so he opted to lock on a submission hold! He’s trying to take Frost down to the mat!”

“Genius! Power is worthless when you’re laid out on your stomach in the middle of the ri--… wait, this is TNT’s plan? What a stupid idea! But it’s against Frost… bah, they both suck!”

The Velvet Hammer improvises and quickly finds a way out of his predicament, backing up into the ring ropes and using the momentum gained on the rebound to shove Taylor forward!! Frost slips right out of the dynamite warrior’s grasp and sends him hurdling to the opposite side of the ring, hurriedly positioning himself in the center of the squared circle to catch him on the rebound! TNT hits the opposite ropes, takes them in the back, and comes loping back, only to be caught by Frost in the middle of the ring with a drop toehold!

“Frost escapes a side headlock, but now it’s he who is taking his partner down to the mat! A hoss showdown of technical prowess is a rare sight to see Riley, but I think we may very well have one on our hands!”

“Booooooooooooooooooooooooooo! Booooooooring!” Bobby chants out of his cupped hands.

TNT flops down onto the mat belly-first and Frost instantaneously begins looking to apply some sort of submission maneuver, but being a man who likes to go for the neck, he methodically slithers up Taylor’s entire body until he can grab a hold of his head with a front facelock! TNT knows that this isn’t the best place that he can be and starts kicking at the mat in frustration as Frosty wrenches down on the hold, trying to tame the explosive beast that is Taylor Nicholas Thompson. Meanwhile, referee Tom Flesher dramatically yawns just a few feet away, obviously bored with this match already. He impatiently glances down at his watch, furiously tapping his foot on the mat as if he just wants to get the hell out of here. Then, without anyone there to tell him otherwise, the Superior One finally gives up and just exits the ring all together!!

“WHAT!? What the hell does Tom think he’s doing?? This is just--… the most unprofessional… unethical… dishonorable thing that I think Tom Flesher has ever done! He’s showing not an ounce of respect for these two!” Grand Slam grunts in disgust.

“And that’s exactly what they deserve! Lenny and Squiggy here have nothing on King Taamo!”

The crowd boos furiously and pelts the ring with various assortments of trash as Flesher paces over to the commentary table and asks Bobby Riley a hardly audible question.

“Excuse me, may I please be treated to a cup of coffee and a headset?”

In the ring, Taylor has forged his way up to his knees, but Frost still grits his teeth as he persistently tries to keep TNT down on the mat with his simple facelock, oblivious to the absent Flesher.

“Taylor’s trying to get up from this front facelock here, but Frost is dead set on keeping him grounded, if it takes all tha—“

“Guffaw!” the familiar voice of Tom Flesher interrupts, as the Superior One has seemingly found a headset and is putting it to good use. “They’ve been out there for one damn minute, and they’re already winded! I’d be running circles around both of these hosses! I mean, who wants to see two fat sweaty guys rub against each other and get tired after thirty seconds?”

“Well, I’d rather not have the tired part…” Bobby mutters, trying to give the right answer to Tom’s question.

“No one! In fact, I’m willing to bet good money that every single fan in this arena bought a ticket for the sole purpose of seeing ME!”

“Well that’s just peachy Flesher… but um, don’t you think that you should be officiating a match right now? You’ve still got two very aggressive big men in the ring waiting for you.”

“Oh nah, they can wait. I think I’ll just watch for now… where’s my coffee!?”

“Um, right here sir,” Riley says meekly, handing the M7 leader a cup of coffee.

“And popcorn?”

”…I’ll make some right away.”

The veins in Frost’s neck bulge as he desperately tries to keep TNT down on the mat with every ounce of strength that he has, but Taylor is just too determined to make his way to his feet… and right when he does, Frost cinches on his front facelock just a little bit tighter, grabs a handful of Thompson’s tights, and lifts him head over heels with a hard snap suplex!! Taylor lands on his back and he grimaces in pain, but that’s all he has a chance to do as Frost rolls him over onto his stomach, front facelock still latched on and drags him up to his feet a second time!

“Ahhh, the rolling snap suplexes, a move that I myself taught little young Frosty…” Flesher states proudly. “I’m honored that he’s using it to kick his friend’s ass, really.”

“You taught that to him? Why, I’ve never even seen you use that move before.”

“Quiet Canned Spam. Ooh, shhhh, wait wait, this is my favorite part – pain.”

TNT reaches a vertical base once again, but before he can even react to anything at all, Frost once again lets out a grunt, and hurls the explosive one over his head with a second snap suplex!! The crowd lets out a mild pop for the impact maneuver, but the real buzz begins for the anticipated third suplex, as the Iceman from Iceland doesn’t waste even a second in towing TNT up to his feet one final time.

“And third is a charm…” Grand Slam says, teeming with anticipation.

As if he were lifting a lightweight, Robert Jackson Frost heaves TNT up off of the ground a third and final time… only for the dynamite warrior to escape Frost’s grasp in mid-move, and slide down his back, landing on his feet behind the hulk of a man! Frost is left dumbfounded for a quick moment, and Taylor takes full advantage of this by hastily grabbing Frost from behind from underneath his legs, positioning his head under his armpit, and lifting the behemoth up into the air… only to CRATER him back-first into the mat with a backdrop driver!!!

“BACK DROP DRIVAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” Grand Slam shouts at the top of his lungs!

“Pbbth, that looked more like two guys pretending to collapse, from where I’m sitting,” Tom scoffs.

“Frost hit two snap suplexes on the former World Champion, Taylor Nicholas Thompson, but TNT reversed the third, barely managing to pull off a backdrop driver!! Frost landed completely on his neck and shoulders there and it truly looked brutal… can Taylor capitalize?”

Tom yawns, before nonchalantly adding, “I suppose I should go and count his little pin… thank you for the beverages, my good friends. Bon soir.”

“Your welcome Mistress Tom!”

“Huh?”

“Mister Tom!”

Taylor lies on his back, extremely fatigued after lifting nearly 300 pounds off of the mat, and Frost resides just a foot away, his eyes completely glazed over. TNT musters up some energy though, and with the crowd on the edges of their seats, he flips over onto his belly and army crawls the long twelve inches before exhaustedly draping a limp arm over his friend and yet foe’s carcass. Tom has just entered the ring at this point and he drops to his knees, checks that both of Frost’s shoulders are on the ground…

“ONE!!”

Again, Tom double checks that both of Frost’s shoulders are 100% on the mat…

“TW--!!”

At what could have possibly been a three-count under normal counting speeds, Frost shoots his right shoulder up off of the mat with gusto, and Tom motions to the outside that it was indeed only a two-count.

“That was possibly the slowest count that I’ve ever seen! Tom Flesher is our World Champion, Not an old man with arthritis and no basic motor skills!” Grand Slam criticizes the officiating of this match so far.

“C’mon Mark! Tom is not a professional referee! There’s no need to put the new guy down. It only discourages him. If you were just learning the ropes and some carrot top made fun of YOUR counting, how would you feel?” Bobby sympathizes for Flesher.

TNT shakes his head, not letting Flesher get him down, and pulls Frost up by the sides of his head. He tucks the man’s skull into a front facelock and sways a bit to the right before swinging Frost’s body up and around on the left to rest with the back of his head on Thompson’s shoulder. TNT sits straight down with a snap on the neck!

“Swinging neckbreaker!” Stevens calls. “Taylor hooks the leg on the cover.”

Flesher drops to all fours and checks to make sure that Frost’s shoulders are completely down. He raises his hand high above his head. However, he pauses with his arm halfway down and waves the cover off!

“It looks like Tom is saying that TNT is too far into the ropes for the pin.” Riley surmises.

“The heel of his right boot is barely brushing the bottom strand!” Stevens shouts exasperated.

Flesher points at the offending foot and shakes his head. Taylor takes a deep breath to calm his anger and pulls his legs up closer to his body. Flesher nods satisfied and goes to count once more.

ONE

TWO

“Kick out. Frost had plenty of time to recoup there.” Stevens’ tone is noticeably bitter.

“As far as I’m concerned, it’s about time we had a referee who calls it strictly by the book,” Bobby preaches.

“The book of Flesher,” Mark grumbles.

Thompson brings Frost to his feet once more with a front facelock. Frost snags TNT around the knees and yanks back for a double leg takedown. Thompson slaps to the mat surprised and Frost follows up by dropping a quick elbow to the stomach.

“Looked a little low there, Frosty, keep it above the belt…even though TNT doesn’t have a lot down there to hurt,” Flesher is overheard saying.

Frost rolls off TNT and to his feet in front of the World Champion. He narrows his eyes coldly and half-heartedly pulls back his right hand for a punch!

“Oh, do it!” Flesher cockily pleads.

“If Frost didn’t like Flesher before, he hates him even more now for costing him the World Title last week by shady underhand dealing.” Mark points out.

“And Frost is going to cost himself another title shot if he touches one hair on the referee’s head tonight.” Riley giggles, “So, hopefully he will.”

TNT starts to his feet, holding his stomach. Frost turns from Flesher and grabs a handful of his opponent’s dreadlocks.

“Hair!” The camera picks up Tom shouting and Frost releases his grip. This allows Thompson to throw a right hand to the breadbasket to double Frost over. Taylor reaches over the man’s body to hook him around the waist.

Stevens hypothesizes, “TNT might be going for a powerbomb here…NO!”

Thompson goes to hoist Frost and only gets him a few inches off the canvas. Frost throws his weight back to take his feet and bucks upward like a bronco. TNT goes flipping over the man’s head to crash back first on the mat and the fans pop! Frost leans into the near ropes for a little leverage and bounces off with an elbow cocked. He aims it for Thompson’s face as he falls, but the former World Champion rolls out of the way at the last moment! Frost strikes nothing but mat and rubs his soar elbow. TNT rolls straight into the ropes and starts climbing up them to his feet. Frost rises, holding his elbow, and moves to catch TNT from behind. Flesher steps in between the two men and wags a coy finger.

“Can’t attack a man in the ropes, Frosty!” Riley cackles.

“This is getting ridiculous! I’m surprised Flesher hasn’t disqualified Frost for not liking the color of his tights,” Mark moans.

“Hmm…I’m sure there has to be some rules regarding inappropriate ring apparel…” Riley goes to wave Flesher over and Mark smacks his hands down.

TNT practically leaps over Flesher to stun Frost with a flying forearm off the ropes. Tom stumbles off to the side and warns Thompson about getting too close while making sure his hair is still in place. TNT swiftly snags Frost by the wrist and whips him to the far ropes. Frost reverses to send TNT for the ride! He twists to take the ropes in the back and heads back toward Frost, whom has his arm extended for a clothesline. TNT ducks under it and charges for the opposite cords. Frost spins around as TNT leaves his feet for a flying cross body block! Frost stumbles back a few steps from impact, but entraps his arms around Thompson’s body and holds him firm across his chest!

“Six foot six, two hundred and sixty-six pounds,” Mark marvels “and Frost seizes him out of midair with no effort.”

Frost grunts from the exertion the big man has on his muscles and then uses his prodigious strength to roll Thompson up his body as he falls back for a Razor Ramon style fallaway slam!

“Barrel roll slam! TNT goes skidding right out of the ring from the thrust of the move!” Mark calls.

Taylor slides in the direction of the throw and lands with both feet on the outside floor mats. Frost spies this, stands and moves to follow him outside. However, the smiling visage of Tom Flesher is there once more to hold him at bay.

“Not so fast,” Riley smarmily warns “you can’t follow a man to the outside. Hell, Tom could dq Frost for throwing Taylor outside in the first place.”

“Taylor went with the momentum and he went under the bottom rope, not over the top.”

“Now you’re just splitting hairs, Mark.”

TNT slumps against the apron getting his breath. He looks over his shoulder at Frost and Flesher arguing in the ring and shakes his head in disgust. He claps his hands over his head and screams for the audience to hear, “FLESHER SUCKS!” The fans obediently pick up the chant and Flesher spins away from Frost wide eyed at the mantra of hate.

“That is highly uncalled for. See if Flesher ever referees a match in the SWF again.” Riley snorts miffed.

“At least they’re not saying what he sucks,” Mark offers up with a laugh.

TNT glides under the bottom strand and to his feet. Flesher turns to meet him, red faced and swearing. TNT pleads ignorance with a coy grin. Frost lowers his head and tries to hide the smile on his lips. Flesher barks for the two men to get back to the wrestling. “FLESHER SUCKS! FLESHER SUCKS!” the fans continue. Tom throws up his hands and tells them to shut up.

“You know, Tom could clear this whole arena out for behavior like that toward an official.” Bobby states.

“Well, that would give King a lot of angry fans demanding a refund and the Commissioner is one man Flesher wants to keep on the good side of.” Stevens reasons.

Frost and TNT advance on each other anew for an elbow and collar tie up. They jockey for position for a few moments, before Frost grapevines the near leg and uses it as a pivot to get behind Taylor for a rear waistlock. Thompson fires back an elbow to the temple and scores a standing switching into a waistlock of his own. Frost attempts an elbow for the break on his end, but Thompson ducks under it and bends his knees for leverage in lifting Frost up for a German suplex! The fans pop at the power TNT musters to get the muscle man up! Thompson unlocks his arms at the top of his arc and allows Frost to freefall with a crunch on the back of his head to the mat.

“Release German Suplex by Thompson! Frost might be one of the strongest men in the SWF today, but TNT is one of the few men that can match up to him.” Mark says.

Frost woozily sits up and TNT drops behind him to work the neck with a rear chinlock. Frost feels the thick arms tightening around his head and he throws all of his weight forward. Caught off guard, TNT is flipped over Frost’s body and plops to his rear in front of him. Frost takes his knees and hooks a chinlock of his own. Flesher eyes the move suspiciously and tells Frost to break it! Frost looks up at the referee confused, but Flesher starts his fast paced dq count!

“Onetwothreefourfi…”

Frost lets go and holds his hands up high to show it. The crowd jeers in disgust.

“Yeah, the fans didn’t want to see a chinlock either.” Riley assuredly assumes.

“Bah!” Mark screams. “Flesher said it was a blatant choke. It wasn’t even close. He’s just toying with both men.”

The combatants stand and Frost snags another rear waistlock. TNT goes for the elbow again, but Frost is expecting it and ducks while spinning TNT around by the midsection. Thompson does a complete 360 on the missed shot and Frost refastens his waistlock. He wastes no time in flipping Taylor over his head and crashing him down for a release German Suplex of his own! The fans explode and Frost drops to hook the leg for a pin…

But there’s no one to count!

“What is Flesher doing?!” Mark bleats.

Tom Flesher wanders to the near corner and examines the top turnbuckle pad. He gives the turnbuckle a shake and ponders it with a hand rubbing his chin, as if the foam padding could unlock the mysteries of the universe.

“Obviously that turnbuckle is loose. That could cause great harm to both wrestlers. Flesher is just looking out for his charges. He might have to stop the match because of it.” Riley explains.

Frost looks up from the cover with the fans booing rabidly. He stands and strides over to Flesher slapping and tugging at the turnbuckle in deep contemplation. Frost hovers behind his hated archenemy. He spins Flesher around the by the shoulder and Tom faces The Icelander with total shock plastered on his kisser. Flesher puts a hand on his right shoulder and rubs it as if the body part had been severely injured!

Riley screams bloody murder from his ringside seat. “FROST TOUCHED THE REFEREE! HE’S A MONSTER! HE’S A MENACE! DISQUALIFY THAT BASTARD!”

Flesher looks at Frost like a hurt puppy and shakes his head almost sorrowfully. He raises his hand to call for the bell, with Frost shouting curses in his face. Suddenly, Frost is ripped off his feet from behind!

“Thompson, unaware of what’s going on, goes for a schoolboy cradle!” Mark shouts.

Flesher slides into place and counts.

ONE!

TWO!

Flesher lifts a sly hand and tugs on the toe of Frost’s boot to help flip him over and out of the pin! Flesher holds up two fingers and shakes his head ‘no.’

Stevens is livid. “Flesher broke the pin! Like I said, he’s just toying with both men. A cat batting two mice back and forth for his own sick glee.”

“Ooo, wait until I tell TNT and Frost you called them mice. They’ll like that.” Riley threatens. “It’s clear that Flesher was trying to steady himself and accidentally grabbed onto Frost. Like I said before, as perfect as my Tommy is, he’s not a professional ref and will make mistakes.”

TNT seems to be unaware of Flesher’s machinations to keep the match rolling as he stands. Frost fights to his knees and Thompson towers over him. TNT puts a hand in his short hair and Flesher warns him with a wagging finger. Frost rockets a hooks into the midsection on the brief distraction and stands. He pummels TNT with a clubbing right and starts driving him back to the far corner with the force of his hands of stone. Tom separates the two and holds his hand, palm flat, up to his former tag partner.

“Flesher warning against the use of a closed fist. He must have stayed up all night reading over the rule book.” Riley speculates with amazement.

“You know, that wouldn’t really surprise me.” Mark states with less than Bobby’s awe, knowing that Tom was just looking for any little trick he could use.

Frost is barely able to contain his annoyance as he places a hand on Tom’s shoulder and shoves him out of the way. Flesher flies into the ropes and sells it like a gunshot!

“Look at Frost brutalizing that shoulder! It’s sick!” Riley says it as if he’s about to puke.

Frost turns his attention back to TNT in the corner. Thompson rushes out of the corner and leaves his feet for a diving tackle into the midsection!

“Spear!” Mark breathlessly calls. “Frost was really stunned by that one. Thompson pulls him up.”

TNT stands to the side of Frost and bars his right arm across his chest while reaching over with the left to hook his right leg. TNT hoists Frost up with great effort and throws him over his head to land squarely on the back of his neck!

“Exploder!” Stevens marks out. “He’s not done yet! Thompson gets Frost back up…yes…I think he’s going for the Mushroom Cloud!”

Flesher lays slumped on the far ropes, his arm hanging limp as he milks it like he could win an Oscar from his performance. TNT hefts Frost up against his chest and stands for a second to soak in the crowd pops. He jackhammers down for a sitout powerbomb! Both men shoot off the canvas and Thompson fights to hold on for the pin! Flesher falls to the mat and drags himself over, ever so slowly and dramatically. He lifts his right arm to count.

ONE!

TWO!

THRE…OOO.…OHOHOH!

Flesher cringes and holds his shoulder, acting too hurt to finish the count!

“That is beyond cheap theatrics!” Stevens belts out, red faced. “He cost TNT the match.”

“Blame Frost!” Riley points at the man in the ring. “He shouldn’t have touched Flesher like he did. Thompson should be mad at his buddy, not the World Champion!”

TNT pushes Frost’s feet off to the side and stands, towering over Flesher. Tom trips to his feet, still favoring that arm. The crowd hurtles trash at the Superior One and rain down the jeers.

“Thompson questions Flesher, wanting to know what the hell is going on.” Mark calls.

“He better worry about his ‘bestest buddy ever.’” Riley sarcastically says.

Frost, unaware of what transpired, clamors up and stumbles into TNT off of sheer instinct. The arms around his waist shock Thompson and Flesher gives him a slick grin. Frost picks TNT up, shoves him out and down while releasing to grab his legs, and obliterates his face into the mat on the reverse powerbomb!

“Snowblind!” Stevens calls in remembering his duties. “Frost skips the pin to pick Thompson back up. Maybe knowing he has no chance of getting the victory.”

“Hey, it’s still fair. Flesher doesn’t want either of these punks to win.”

Frost holds Taylor’s left arm out to the side and sledges a fist into the side of his chest!

“Touch of Frost! The Velvet Hammer follows with a standing head scissors on the stunned former World Champion!” Mark yells.

Frost underhooks the arms at the elbows and flips TNT off the canvas to lie against his chest. He deftly plummets to the mat with a ring shaking slam!

“EARLY WINTER! WILL FLESHER LET THIS BE IT?” Mark questions as Frost holds on for the cover.

ONE!

TWO!

THRE…OOO…OWOWOW!

Flesher makes with the false injury again and feigns that he cannot continue the count. Frost, still groggy, brushes TNT away and tries to comprehend what’s going on. Flesher tries to stand, but trips backwards like a drunk into the far corner.

“Look at the pain my Tommy is in! He can barely stand.” Riley seems on the verge of tears.

“Stuff it!” Mark bites off.

TNT slowly stirs and rolls over to his stomach to push himself up. He points at Flesher and fills Frost in on Flesher calling the pin off on him. Frost narrows his stare and stalks forward. Thompson makes his feet and follows, the crowd cheering wildly. Flesher points at his right arm with his other hand and lets it dangle down limply. The camera picks him up saying, “sorry fellows, I really want a clean win here, but my arm is more limp than Neilsen’s career.”

“It looks like this is going to have to end in a draw, what a shame.” Riley says with mock sincerity.

The men collectively known as Chilly Chilly Bang Bang turn slightly away from Tom, as if they were going to give the match up. Then they rush into him with fists flying!

“FROST AND TNT ATTACK TOM FLESHER!” Stevens yells.

“NO! NO! NOT IN THE FACE! NOT IN THE FACE!” Riley begs.

The fans explode as the faces hook Flesher up for a double suplex! They grab a fistful of the short shorts on either side and ratchet him up and over with a splat! Tom bounces off the mat and works to get his feet underneath him, looking to run away. Frost snags him by the hair while Thompson seizes him around the waist! TNT twists him up and around to lie against his chest with his feet sticking straight up. Frost takes one leg while Thompson readjusts to hold the other. They plunge to the canvas to throw the crowd into a frenzy!

“DOUBLE POWERBOMB!” Mark extols.

“SECURITY!” Riley moans.

A rifle of boos shoot through the masses as the camera whips around to catch the forces of the Magnificent 7 pouring from behind the backstage curtain! Frost and TNT shoot to their feet to spy Fasaki, Hearford and Janus barreling down the ramp. They exchange a glance like Butch to Sundance and charge! The slide under the bottom rope and dash to meet their attackers!

“Chilly Chilly Bang Bang run headlong into a wild two on three brawl on the ramp!” Mark is near giddy at the mad action.

“The Magnificent 7 are just helping their leader against the vicious thugs beating him up! Just because Frost and TNT have a bland, sloppy match they have to take their frustrations out on Tom!”

Frost blocks a Janus right hand and twists to chuck him into the guardrail with a hand on his rear! Thompson leaves his feet with a double flying clothesline for Justice and Rule! Flesher woozily crawls across the canvas and drops to the floor. He waves his hand at the timekeeper to the ring the bell and calls Funyon over.

DING DING DING

Funyon shakes his head appalled, but Flesher implores him to make the announcement. Flesher retrieves his title from ringside along with a cup of coffee from the commentator’s table. He stalks around the corner of the ring and takes a big drink while the nearby spectators hurl insults at him.

“As the result of a referee’s decision,” Funyon sighs. “This match has been ruled a double disqualification!”

“As well is should be!” Riley pounces to defend the decision. “Frost and TNT had no right laying a single hand on the referee.”

“Well, when the referee goes out of his way to prevent either man from winning, you sometimes just have to throw the whole thing out and say to hell with it.” Mark offers in counterpoint. “It was clear that Flesher wasn’t going to let either man win and was just begging for something like this to end the contest on.”

Frost pummels Janus on the guardrail. Flesher puts a hand on the big man’s shoulder and spins him around!

SPEWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!

Frost takes a spray of coffee mist to the eyes! Blinded, Janus picks Frost up around the waist and drops him throat first on the guardrail! Flesher then takes the World Title in both hands and leaps to clock Thompson in the back of the head with it! He goes down and Ejiro and Judge lay the boots to him!

“There you go! Fight back! The Superior One has his revenge!” Riley cackles.

“But don’t think TNT and Frost won’t be looking for some revenge of their own next week or later at Battleground. I think Flesher might have bitten off more than he can chew in trying to take on both Thompson and Frost at the same time.” Stevens theorizes.

Frost and TNT lay out of it on the ramp. Flesher waves his men off, fed up with the whole scene and stalks toward the back. The fans jeer and scream at the Mag 7 as they move up the ramp. Flesher’s enraged face is the last image seen before the show fades out for the night.

SWF Lockdown!

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