Battleground Losing Matches

[Guest Mr. Slim Citrus]

“We’re about ready for the TLC match for the tag titles,” says Mark Stevens. “This is going to be a sensational contest.”

 

“It’s also going to be a sensational win for Justice and Rule,” adds Bobby Riley. “They’ve been the most dominant tag team in the recent history of the SWF. They’ve run through the tag team division like it was tissue paper, and tonight, I predict Justice and Rule will go down in history by dominating this match and retaining the Tag Team Championship!”

 

“I don’t know about dominating the match,” says Stevens. “I mean, this match is completely different from what they’ve had to go through since they formed as a team here in the SWF. I agree with you that if they can hold on to the belts, they will pretty much secure themselves a place in wrestling history, but I don’t think that they will.”

 

Bobby snatches Mark’s cup away from him and pours its contents onto the floor beside him. “No more for you,” he says. “You’ve GOT to be on something if you actually believe that either one of these teams can beat Justice and Rule!”

 

“Be honest with yourself, Bobby,” replies Stevens. “This match really doesn’t play to the strengths of Justice and Rule. They are two of the finest technical wrestlers in the sport, and they execute their game plan with flawless precision, but in a match like this, anything could happen! Matches like this are often won by creativity rather than strategy, and Justice and Rule are probably the least creative team in the match. I think the unpredictable nature of this kind of match will neutralize Justice and Rule’s intellectual advantage.”

 

“You’re looking at this the wrong way,” says Riley. “It’s not about how vulnerable Justice and Rule are in this style of match, it’s whether or not the challengers have what it takes to beat them. I’ve seen many ladder matches where you would believe that the champion would be at a disadvantage because it took him out of his element, but that doesn’t automatically make the challenger good enough to beat him. That’s why I’ve got to go with Justice and Rule; this may not be their style of match, but I can’t see either of the challenger’s able to get the job done. Déjà Vu’s too green, and Wildchild can’t beat Ejiro and Judge Hearford by himself.”

 

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

 

“It means that Johnny Dangerous is the weak link on that team,” replies Riley. “The way he’s been wrestling, it’s like he doesn’t even belong in the SWF, and Wildchild can’t win one on four!”

 

“I have to admit that I’ve been a little disappointed by Johnny’s performance since he’s been here,” admits Stevens, “but tonight might be his night.”

 

“Not a chance,” scoffs Riley. “Tonight is all about Justice and Rule, and after this match, they will be, without question, the greatest tag team of all time! So just sit back and watch history being made!”

 

With that, the metallic strains of POD kick off the Rock Remix of “Awnaw” by Nappy Roots. Spotlights scan the audience and the rapidly increasing fan base of Déjà Vu begin to cheer as they see Kris and Kross running through the crowd, slapping hands with fans as they make their way to ringside. They vault over the barricade simultaneously, and slide into the ring, with Kris pointing at Kross saying “You da Man,” as Kross points back at him, saying, “naw Brah, YOU da man!” They then each run to a corner and climb to the second turnbuckle, inciting the crowd to cheer louder as they flash their trademark hand signals. “In the ring, Funyon speaks into the microphone. “Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is for the SWF TAG TEAM CHAMPIONSHIP, and it is a Tables, Ladders and Chairs Match! Introducing the challengers! First, in the ring at this time, from Las Vegas, Nevada, at a total combined weight of four hundred thirteen pounds… Kris! Kross! DÉJÀ VUUUUUUUUU!”

 

“Déjà Vu’s getting the crowd pumped up,” notes Stevens. “You know, Bobby, when they came to the SWF, most people treated them like a novelty act, but they’ve really won a lot of people over in recent weeks with their tenacity and enthusiasm. They’ve pressed the Tag Team Champions to the limit on a couple of occasions, and they could be the dark horse to win this thing.”

 

“Well, I’ll say this for Déjà Vu,” replies Riley. “They’ve received a crash course in wrestling, the hard way, from two of the best in the game, but this experience is unlike anything they’ve dealt with before. I mean, you can account for the tables and chairs, but the ladder brings in an added dimension that you just can’t prepare for in regular matches. I think experience is going to turn out to be a significant factor, and in the end, we’ll see that Déjà Vu just doesn’t have enough to win in this match.”

 

“Awnaw” fades away, to give rise to the energetic instrumental beat of 50 Cent’s “In Da Club.” Fans all over the arena go crazy as Wildchild and Johnny Dangerous step out from behind the curtain. They interact with the fans as they walk down the aisle, and stop in front of the fifteen foot ladder that has been erected several feet away from the ring, deciding to climb it and pose for the crowd, while back in the ring, Funyon continues his introduction. “Their opponents, at a total combined weight of four hundred twenty-seven pounds, Johnny Dangerous and the Wildchild! They are Wild! Annnnnnnnnnnnd Dangerous!”

 

“You know,” says Riley, “if I didn’t dislike Wildchild so much, I’d feel sorry for him. He’s carry around two hundred and ten pounds of dead weight, and there’s not a chance in hell he’s going to be able to overcome his abortion of a partner to win this match!”

 

“You’re terrible,” says Stevens. “Johnny’s one of the more talented wrestlers in the SWF. He’s just caught a few bad breaks, that’s all. I mean, in spite of his record, he’s taken some of the better wrestlers in the SWF to their limit.” Wild and Dangerous climb down from the ladder and carry it closer to ringside, so that it’s only about five feet away from the ring.

 

“What’s that supposed to mean,” asks Riley, “that he’s taken wrestlers to the limit? A loss is a loss! Even if he made the other guy sweat a little bit, he still lost! This guy can’t carry his share of the load, and that’s why Wild and Dangerous don’t stand a chance in this match!” Johnny and Wildchild roll into the ring and shake hands with the Déjà Vu, before walking towards the corners and posing on the turnbuckles for the fans.

 

“Nice display of sportsmanship by the two challenging teams,” notes Stevens.

 

“You know what that handshake just showed me,” asks Riley. “It shows me that neither one of these teams has gone into this match with the right frame of mind; if you’re worried about showing good sportsmanship, then you aren’t properly focused on your objective, which should be winning the Tag Team Titles, by hook or by crook!”

 

“Well,” admits Stevens, “I’ve got to agree with you on that to an extent, because you can believe that the champions will take a shortcut if they see the opportunity.”

 

“And what do you mean by that?”

 

“I just mean that Judge and Ejiro aren’t above using underhanded tactics to get the win,” replies Stevens. “That’s all.”

 

POPPOPPOPPOPPOPPOPPOPPOPPOPPOP!!

 

Before Riley can retort, the sounds of Rage Against the Machine’s “Sleep Now in the Fire” begins to thunder through the arena as short burst of red pyro fires off the sides of the stage. The chorus of cheers instantly become boos as the Tag Team Champions step out from behind the curtain.

 

“And their opponents,” continues Funyon, “at a total combined weight of four hundred thirty-three pounds, they are the SWF TAG TEAM CHAMPIONS! Judge Hearford! Ejiro Fasaki! JUSTICCCCEE! And RUUUUUUULEEE!” The champions make their way towards the ring sans belts, which are already suspended above the ring.

 

“The champs look naked without their belts,” says Riley woefully.

 

Johnny exchanges a look with his partner and dashes towards the edge of the ring, sliding underneath the bottom ropes to the outside, and cut the champions off from the ring, forcing them to stop about fifteen feet from the ring.

 

“Looks like Johnny wants to get this thing started early,” remarks Stevens.

 

“Meh. He just wants to show everyone how brave he is, so that everyone will believe that he’s not the weak link, even though he is.”

 

CRASH!

 

Without a word of warning, Johnny rushes towards Justice and Rule with a surprising double lariat attempt, which the champions are nevertheless able to avoid easily. However, they fail to notice Wildchild inside the ring, as he races from one side of the ring to the other, finally vaulting onto the top rope, where he springboards off of it and onto the ladder, which he causes to fall towards the backstage area, riding it halfway down before he springs off and nails the unsuspecting Judge with a flying cross body block!

 

ZOT!

 

Ejiro turns his head to see what has happened to his partner, only to be knocked to ground by a Johnny Kick!

 

CRACK!

 

“Wild and Dangerous are taking the fight right to the tag team champions,” shouts Stevens. Johnny and Wildchild pull their foes up off the floor and lead them over to each other, before driving their heads together with a double noggin-knocker that sends Judge staggering backwards, and Ejiro falling to the floor. Wildchild and Johnny then scoop the beleaguered barrister up off the ground and slam him on top of his partner. Wild and Dangerous bounce up and down waving their arms, getting the crowd to cheer even louder.

 

“How do you like that frame of mind, Bobby,” Stevens asks excitedly.

 

CRASH!

 

Not wanting to be left out of the action, Kris tells his brother Kross to drop to the mat on all fours, while he runs to the opposite end of the ring. He bounces off the ropes to build momentum, and then races back to the other side of the ring, hopping onto his brother’s back, and using it as a platform to spring over the top rope, surprising Wildchild as he approaches the ring with a breathtaking somersault senton splash!

 

WHACK!

 

Johnny goes over to assist his partner and gets knocked into the barricade by Kross, who dives feet-first towards the bottom rope and nails the Barracuda with a baseball slide!

 

“Déjà Vu is making their presence felt as well in this match,” says Stevens. Kris and Kross grab Johnny and roll him into the ring, leaving Wildchild to lay motionless on the arena floor. They slide into the ring behind him and pull him up to his feet, hitting him with a few punches to soften him up before whipping him to the ropes, but Johnny surprises them on the rebound with a double lariat that sends them both flying. Kross recovers first and charges the Barracuda, but is scooped up and slammed to the canvas. Kris rushes Johnny and gets a slam of his own for his troubles. The Barracuda notices his partner recovered on the outside and approaching the ring, so he picks Kross up and whips him towards the ropes, leapfrogging him as he rebounds.

 

WHACK!

 

Kross runs underneath Johnny and bounces off the opposite set of ropes, this time jumping over Johnny with a running leapfrog, but is unable to slow himself down, and thus unable to prevent himself from being blasted by a missile dropkick from the Wildchild. Kris charges after Johnny again, who snatches him up with a double-leg takedown and falls straight forward, dropping him onto the mat with a soft spinebuster. Johnny shouts his partners’ name out to get his attention as he stands up, still holding Kris’ feet. Without another word said between them, Wildchild races to the ropes as Johnny locks his hands underneath Kris’ legs and falls back, and Wildchild leaps onto the top rope and springs backwards, twisting in midair and springboard dropkick! Meanwhile, Ejiro and Judge Hearford have long since recovered on the outside of the ring and are standing near the ladder discussing strategy while the other two teams fight it out in the ring.

 

“Wild and Dangerous have such a good rapport,” notes Stevens. “They each know where the other are at all times in that ring, and they have amazing timing, enabling them to hit big moves on their opponents.”

 

“Maybe,” says Riley in response, “but how is that timing going to help them out-think the tag team champions? Look at Judge and Ejiro out there right now, coming up with a plan of action while their competition beats themselves up in the ring!” The champions start to approach the ring as Wild and Dangerous deliver a double hiptoss to Kris.

 

SMASH!

 

Wild and Dangerous high-five in the middle of the ring, and Wildchild holds Kris in the middle of the ring as Johnny races to the ropes, but Ejiro jumps up and grabs the top rope and pulls it down suddenly, causing the Barracuda to fall to the outside, bumping his head on the concrete floor! Wildchild releases Kris, letting him drop to the floor, as he charges over to the ropes to scream at the tag team champions.

 

“Ejiro with a cheap shot to take Johnny out of the ring,” shouts Stevens.

 

“That’s wasn’t a cheap shot,” replies Riley. “That’s called the champions picking their spots.”

 

Wildchild is so pre-occupied with arguing with Judge and Ejiro that he doesn’t notice Déjà Vu sneaking up behind him! The duo grabs onto the surprised Bahaman and lifts him backwards into the air, planting him in the middle of the ring with a monstrous double back suplex!

 

WHAM!

 

“You going to call that a cheap shot, too?” says Riley, eyeing Stevens, who remains silent.

 

The crowd’s enthusiasm begins to rise as the twins take a moment to celebrate their successful attack on Wildchild with a round of high fives while the Bahama Bomber lies motionless on his back, gazing towards the stratosphere.

 

“From the back!” Kris shouts as he spins around, facing his back to his twin and extends his hand. Kross eagerly slaps him some skin!

 

 

Smack!

 

 

“Up Top!”

 

 

Smack!

 

 

“Down low!”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“HA! To slow, Brah!” Kris excitedly shouts towards his brother as he draws his hand back, causing Kross to miss, and nabs a woeful “Aww!” from the crowds!

 

“I don’t think Kross liked that one too much,” observes Mark as the mentioned member of Déjà Vu looks onto his brother with a frown.

 

“Who cares?” shouts an exasperated Riley. “It’s these type of idiotic shenanigans that make me want to puke! This is why I put all my money on the line for Justice and Rule! There is no way those two morons can win this match!”

 

“Oh! Speaking of Justice and Rule...” Stevens motions towards the far corner where the pair take turns pulverizing Johnny Dangerous, who was left like a stray sheep to the two hungry wolves. “It looks like they have begun that ultimate strategy you spoke of - two on one!”

 

Judge grabs onto Johnny by his hair and jerks him to his feet, then quickly spins him around and locks on a full nelson. For a brief moment the Barracuda struggles, trying to worm his way out, but Hearford tightens his grip around Dangerous’ arms and pressed down even harder on his already bruised neck, keeping the spy at bay as Ejiro winds up...

 

WHACK!!

 

“Oh, right to the eye!” says Stevens. “These two aren’t exactly playing fair here!”

 

“It’s not like they need to double team this loser,” says Bobby confidently. “Judge already beat Johnny Dangerous single handedly on Smarkdown! There just doing this because... well they can!”

 

“I’d dispute that ‘single handed’ bit,” replies Stevens, “but I’d rather NOT give you an excuse to go on another one of your tirades.”

 

“Pfft, as if I need an excuse.”

 

Meanwhile: Inside the ring, Kross grabs onto Wildchild’s chin and pulls him too his feet while his brother, Kris, makes for the far ropes. Being in the current shell-shocked state of mind that he is, Wildchild doesn’t put up too much resistance as Kross grabs him by the arm and flings him towards his oncoming twin!

 

“I saw them do this on TV once!” Kris shouts towards his brother just before he draws his arm back, closes his eyes, and with his tongue on the corner of his lip SWINGS his arm out for a magnificent clothesline-

 

 

-Wildchild ducks down, coming to life just at the last second and floating right under Kris’ arm! “What the hell?” says Kris, wondering what happened to Wildchild, who breaks for the ropes directly behind him, bounces back, thrusts his body through the air towards Kris, grabs onto his head, and SLAMS it into the mat!

 

“Whoa!” shouts Mark. “Big come back out of nowhere for the Wildchild!”

 

Quickly bouncing back to his feet in a split second, the Bahama Bomber braces himself for Kross as he charges in swinging strong... and tackles Wildchild to the mat, wildly swinging his fist into any open spot that it will land!

 

WHACK!

 

SMACK!

 

CRACK!

 

Acting upon reflex, Wildchild raises his hands to his face, trying to shield himself from the blows, but the angered Kross grabs his hand with one arm, pulls it back... and rams his fist into Wildchild’s skull!

 

WHAM!!

 

“Well these boys may not be experienced wrestlers, but they sure know how to brawl!” says Stevens. “Wildchild is having to give everything he’s got to avoid those mighty punches!”

 

“Well how are they going to throw a punch when Ejiro rips their arm out of their sockets?”

 

Back on the outside the brutality continues on Johnny Dangerous - Judge grabs onto his leg as Ejiro peels away the protective matting covering the concrete floor, and drags him over towards the area.

 

“Just look at that!” says Stevens. “Even with no rules, those two have found a way to cheat!”

 

“I wouldn’t call that cheating.” Bobby replies. “More like... slime ball tactics if you will.”

 

Though thoroughly beaten, Johnny tries to put up some type of fight; reaching out he grabs onto the leg of one of the many steel chairs littered around ringside, while being dragged across the floor by Hearford. The Barracuda lets out a rather loud grunt as he flips over onto his back and swings his chair forward, smacking the Judge right in the back!

 

SMACK?

 

“Johnny tried to turn the tables there,” says Stevens, “but he just didn’t have the strength to carry it through!”

 

“Does he ever?”

 

Judge stammers forward a single step from the rather... how shall we say... weak blow, then spins back around and snatches the chair from Johnny’s grasp! “Oh, you want to play with chairs?” Judge shouts just before he rears all the way back over his head with the chair... then swings it straight for Dangerous’ skull!

 

CRACK!!

 

“OH!” Stevens winces at the blow and the crowds begin to rain down on Justice and Rule with heavy boo‘s! “That plan just backfired on Johnny Dangerous!”

 

“One down, three more to go!” says Riley.

 

Judge smiles wildly as he pries the chair off Johnny’s skull, stained with his blood then raises the chair out to the crowds, showcasing the blood of Johnny Dangerous dripping off the chair! They boo heavily, which only seems to bring more joy to the heart of William Hearford and even his partner, Ejiro Fasaki, who snickers wildly while still holding back the protective covering. Determined to still go through with the original plan, Judge tosses the chair down and grabs onto the Barracuda’s leg, rolls him over onto his stomach, lifts him up... and drives his knee right into the concrete!

 

WHACK!!

 

However, as all this was taking place the action inside the actual ring hasn’t stopped, not by a long shot. After Kross finally got tired of planting his fist into Wildchild he drags him to his feet, and delivers a stiff kick to Wildchild’s gut that doubles him over as he clenches onto his midsection. Stealing a page right out of Grand Slam’s book (on shelves at bookstores everywhere early to mid July), Kross grabs onto Wildchild by his head and thrust it in between his legs, hooked onto his arms causing Stevens himself to simply shake his head in disgust at the sloppiness of this rendition, while Riley points and cackles! Just as Kross thinks he is going to deliver the mighty move, the Bahama Bomber rips his arms away from Kross’ grip, grabs onto his legs and pulls them out from under him, causing him to land flat on his back just before he jams the heel of his foot into Kross’ balls!

 

“Here comes Wildchild!” shouts Stevens as the Bahaman makes a quick break for the far ropes and guns it for the opposite side, jumps up to the top rope and launches himself into the air and right towards Judge and Ejiro Fasaki!

 

WHAM!!

 

Justice and Rule take no notice to Wildchild’s forthcoming presence, which makes them pretty much sitting ducks to get nailed with a double cross body attack, flooring the pair instantly! Wildchild rolls to his knees and crawls to the ring apron, reaching underneath the ring and pulling out a table, to the delightful roar of the crowd. He gets to his feet and picks up the table, pushing it underneath the bottom rope into the ring, and then sliding in behind it.

 

As he gets back to his feet, Kris rushes at him, surprising him with a forearm to the face, and pushing him back against the ropes. Kris pulls Wildchild away from the ropes and whips him towards the opposite end, but he puts his head down too soon as Wildchild rebounds, and the Bahama Bomber reacts by twisting his body around and using Kris’s own momentum from his backdrop attempt to propel himself up and over his adversary, locking his legs as he begins to fall in the opposite direction and yanking Kris backwards off his feet, dropping him head first onto the mat with a Junkanoo!

 

“Junkanoo,” shouts Stevens. “That’s Wildchild’s patented hurricanrana variation!” Wildchild gets to his feet, but stands right into a superkick from Kross.

 

“And here’s where Johnny being the weak link comes into play,” intones Riley. “Wildchild can’t fight off both members Déjà Vu by himself, let alone the tag team Champions!” Kross lifts Wildchild to his feet as Judge and Ejiro recover on the outside of the ring, and applies a front facelock. He tucks his head underneath Wildchild’s outside arm, and grabs onto his leg, attempting to lift him into a vertical suplex, but the Tropical Tumbler counters by blocking with his outside leg.

 

BANG!

 

Kross makes a second attempt at a suplex, which Wildchild also counters, and then the former circus star surprises the youngster by grabbing his leg and lifting him into the air for what appears to be a Fisherman’s suplex, but instead the Bahama Bomber drops to his knees while Kross is suspended above him, crushing the twin’s neck against his shoulder with a modified Mexican Stretch Buster!

 

“Dear God,” screams Stevens. “Wildchild just hit Kross with the Wild Ride number 2!”

 

WHACK!

 

Wildchild wearily gets to his feet, admiring his handiwork, and fails to notice Ejiro as he sneaks up behind him, chain in hand, and nails him with a chain-wrapped fist to the back of the head. Judge crawls underneath the bottom rope into the ring, wielding a steel chair, and yells at Kris, ordering him to pick Wildchild up and hold him. Kris seems hesitant to do so, unwilling to trust his most recent nemeses, but Ejiro walks up to the twin slowly, speaking to him in a soothing voice. “Take it easy, kid,” he says. “Think about things for a second: the sooner we get rid of Wild and Dangerous, the better chance we all have of getting the belts down.” Kris casts an uncertain glance into the crowd, who all seem to plead with him in unison not to trust the dastardly heels.

 

Even Grand Slam gets into the act. “Don’t do it, kid! You can’t trust the champions!”

 

What are you talking about,” asks Riley. “I’m sure that Ejiro just told him that if he helps them take out the Wildchild, he’ll get what’s coming to him.”

 

“Are you sure, Brah?”

 

At this, Ejiro flashes a toothy grin at Kris. “Trust me,” he says.

 

Still unsure, but slightly mollified, Kris picks Wildchild up off the ground and holds him still as Judge takes a mighty swing of the chair!

 

CLANG!

 

Hearford scrambles Wildchild’s brains as flattens him with a brutal chairshot! Wildchild slumps lifelessly to the mat and the crowd lets out a collective gasp in horror.

 

“Dear God,” moans Stevens. “Wildchild is out; hell, Wild and Dangerous are both out of this match right now!” Ejiro clasps his hand on Kris’s shoulder, walking him away from Judge Hearford’s line of sight. “You did a good job, kid. Outstanding work! Now, all that’s left is to get the ladder and go up and get the belts!”

 

“And we’ll decide who wins fair and square, right, dude?”

 

“Oh, absolutely,” says Ejiro with a wicked grin, unseen by the Déjà Vu member. “We’ll, uh, draw straws or something. But, before we get to that, I need to show you something…”

 

CLANG!

 

Without another word, Fasaki spins Kris around and whips him towards the Judge, who absolutely BRAINS him with a running chair shot! The crowd’s boos echo throughout the arena, and some of the more unruly fans even throw things into the ring.

 

“I told you not to trust them,” cries Stevens.

 

“Well, hell, it’s his fault,” quips Riley nonchalantly. “I mean, what did he expect them to do? Share the belts, or something?” In the ring, Ejiro looks up at the tag team titles and then looks back at the Judge.

 

“Belts?”

 

Judge looks up at the belts, then back down to the ring at Kross. Suddenly, all Hearford can think of is the tickle “submission” from Lockdown. “Not yet,” he says. “Set that table up over there!” Fasaki complies as Judge grabs Kross by the back of the head, and drags him by his hair over to the corner. He sets the hapless twin up on the top turnbuckle and climbs up behind him, safely securing his legs in the turnbuckles and Ejiro scales the opposing corner. They exchange a glance to get their timing, and then Hearford arches back, pulling Kross off the turnbuckle with him!

 

 

 

CRUNCH!

 

 

 

WHAM!

 

“Oh my GOD,” screams Stevens. “Rule of Law through the table! Rule of Law through the damned table!”

 

“That’ll do it,” crows Riley. “The only team left is Justice and Rule! They’re gonna win it!”

 

Judge Hearford untangles himself from the turnbuckle and climbs back down into the ring. He looks down upon the battered and lifeless Kross, and decides he’s not quite finished. “Get the ladder,” he barks at Ejiro. “I’ve got unfinished business.”

 

With nothing more than a nod, Ejiro drops to the mat nearby the ring apron and rolls out of the ring, as Judge walks over to Kross. “So, you want to be a submissions expert, huh,” he says in a low growl, as he drags Kross to his feet and locks him into a Stretch Plum!

 

“Oh no,” moans Stevens. “Judge is gonna try to tear this kid in half!”

 

“How can you not love this,” asks Riley brightly. “We’re all being treated to a wrestling lesson here, courtesy of Judge Hearford! You should consider this a privilege!”

 

“I consider this a mugging,” replies Stevens, as Ejiro begins to slide the ladder into the ring. “Worst of all, it looks like Justice and Rule are going to go unchallenged into their push to retain their belts…”

 

 

CLANG!

 

With a sudden burst of energy, Wildchild rolls onto his feet and lunges towards the ring apron where Ejiro is trying to slide the ladder in, and dives feet-first, dropkicking the ladder into Ejiro’s face, who goes crashing into the barricade!”

 

“Wildchild’s back on his feet,” shouts Stevens. “Wild and Dangerous are still in this match!” Wildchild, currently standing behind Judge and outside of his field of vision, takes the opportunity to dash to the ropes nearest him, leaping to the top rope, and springing back off, blasting Hearford in the face with a springboard missile dropkick, and forcing him to relinquish the hold. He spies Ejiro recovering outside the ring and moving back towards the ladder, so he rushes over to it and leaps into the air as Ejiro is right in front of it, landing on the end inside the ring and causing the other end to swing upwards in a see-saw motion, smacking Ejiro in the face!

 

“Brilliant heads up maneuver by the Wildchild,” notes Stevens.

 

 

CRASH!

 

In an effort to keep the crowd stimulated, Wildchild decides to follow up his attack to Ejiro by running to the corner, leaping onto the second rope and leaping backwards outside the ring, flipping through the air and crushing Fasaki with a breathtaking springboard Asai Moonsault!

 

“My God,” screams Stevens, “that was beautiful!”

 

“Well, it was flashy, I’ll give you that,” replies Riley. “I’ll even admit that I was impressed, but it’s going to take more than that to take out somebody as tough as Ejiro. Besides, Judge is getting to his feet inside the ring, and if he gets to that ladder, that move’s going to turn out to be a colossal waste!”

 

Wildchild springs to his feet and slides into the ring, diving towards the Judge as he approaches the ladder and surprising him with a double-leg takedown.

 

“Wildchild’s pulling out all the stops to try to get a win in this match,” says Stevens. The Bahama Bomber pulls Hearford to his feet, but Hizzoner stuns him with a knee to the midsection. He then goes behind Wildchild and wraps his arms around his waist, arching backwards and heaving Wildchild behind him for a fierce German suplex, but the Tropical Tumbler landed on his feet, and backpedaled into the ropes. As he races off, Judge rolls to his feet and tries to stop Wildchild’s momentum with a stiff lariat, but only finds air as Wildchild easily ducks underneath and races to the other side, where he leaps onto the top rope and curls into a ball as he rebounds off, smacking Hearford squarely in the chest with a Pinball attack!”

 

“He’s on fire,” shouts Stevens. “He’s determined to win this thing!”

 

 

WHACK!

 

As he gets to his feet, Wildchild is knocked down from behind by Ejiro, who recovered during the midst of Wildchild’s attack on Judge and climbed back into the ring, pulling the ladder in behind him, and using it as a weapon as he swings it into Wildchild’s back. He then backs away from him, causing Wildchild to give chase, and also allowing Judge time to recover. Ejiro causes Wildchild to chase him to the ropes, where he quickly jumped out to get away from his old foe.

 

 

WHAM!

 

Wildchild begins to make his way outside the ring, but Judge Hearford forces him to change his plans as he snatches Wildchild up from behind and drops him backwards, driving his head into the mat with a vicious backdrop suplex!

 

Slinging his trademark chain over his shoulder, Ejiro grabs another ladder from outside and slides it into the war zone that the ring has become, setting it up slightly over the titles that hand high above, while Hearford grabs another ladder and goes about setting it up next to Ejiro’s.

 

“Well this is it,” says Riley boastfully. “Justice and Rule have completely decimated everyone in the ring, and in just a few moments they will have captured their titles off the hook. I’m just saying I told you so, Mark, I told you so.”

 

“They haven’t won yet, my eager friend,” replies Stevens. “ANYTHING could happen, you should know that!”

 

As if on cue, a once seemingly dead Johnny Dangerous slides into the ring over in the far corner, and the crowds begin to cheer enthusiastically. Splotches of blood are visible on his forehead, his coat pocket torn, his hair totally out of place, and his leg soars with pain, but still he refuses give up! Reaching out for the ropes, Johnny pulls himself too his feet and stammers forward a step just before he begins to unbutton his suit coat.

 

“See, Bobby.”

 

“Damn it, Mark!” Riley slams his fist into the announce table as a slight bit of aggravation comes over him. “You just had to say something, didn’t you? Now this clown is back in the ring! Do Justice and Rule have to kill him in order to get it through his THICK! F**KING! SKULL! Your not going to stop Justice and Rule, you are not going to win! You suck, thank you, now go home!”

 

“Simmer down there, Bobby.” Stevens shakes his head in pity. “If those two are so good then they shouldn’t have much of a problem putting Johnny Dangerous away.”

 

Johnny lets his coat gently slide off his arms to the mat. Then he begins to unravel his necktie and slams it down to the mat with one hand while unbuttoning his top two shirt buttons with his other hand.

 

Justice and Rule continue to arrange their ladders until Ejiro catches sight of the Barracuda out of the corner of his eye. “Judge.” he nudges his partner with his elbow, and then motions with his head towards the corner Dangerous is occupying.

 

“Oh, for crying out loud!” says Judge as he sees Johnny standing there with his fist balled up and raised up, slowly hobbling towards them. “Grab our titles, Jir. I’m going to put an end to this son of a bitch for once and for all!”

 

Ejiro nods in understanding, letting the Judge, William Hearford set his sights on Johnny Dangerous as he makes his final preparations with the ladder!

 

“There goes Judge,” says Stevens. “Looks like we are about to have a final showdown between these two for the evening.”

 

“Final showdown?” Riley looks astounded. “This is going to be a two move encounter. Judge hits Johnny. Johnny hits the mat. It’s as simple as that.”

 

The crowds’ excitement level begins to rise as Judge closes in on Dangerous, hoping that the Barracuda can overcome his adversary. “You just don’t know when to give up, do you Johnny!” Hearford shouts just before he suddenly makes a quick break charging in for Dangerous like a Tomahawk Cruise Missile headed for Baghdad as he draws his arm back, ready to shatter Johnny’s skull! Judge swings, but the Secret Agent throws his arm up, blocking the blow, and retaliates with a quick jab to Hearford’s chin, that surprises him enough to throw him off his game, allowing Johnny to send a much stronger punch crashing into the former Oakland County DA’s temple!

 

WHAM!!

 

Judge stammers back a step and turns to his side, then immediately fires back with a punch of his own that lands square into Dangerous’ chin, sending him flying backwards into the ropes!

 

“God Damn!” Shouts Mark. “Judge put some serious power into that last blow!”

 

“You expect Bill to hold back?” replies Bobby, almost amazed that Grand Slam would think otherwise. “Besides, all he has to do is keep Dangerous at bay long enough for Ejiro to snag them belts of theirs.”

 

Sure enough, Ejiro has begun to make the ascent up the ladder as Judge and Johnny continue to squabble. The belts are his for the taking, not a soul is around to stop him... that is until Wildchild, almost forgotten about, drags himself back inside the ring.

 

“Wildchild’s back in the ring.” says Stevens. “But will he be able to get to Ejiro before it’s too late?”

 

“My guess is no,” says Bobby, shaking his head. “Ejiro is already several steps ahead of him.”

 

The fans immediately begin to lend their support to the Bahamas Native as Wildchild grits his teeth, rises to his feet and heads off for the ladder that Fasaki is on. The second Ejiro sees Wildchild he begins to make haste up the ladder, but Wildchild’s speed comes into his favor - he dashes towards the opposite side of the ladder, jumps up to the third rung, shimmies himself up towards where Fasaki is at, and flings his leg through the spacing between the steps, nailing Ejiro in the gut in a matter of seconds!

 

“Wildchild just may have bought himself some time there!” says Stevens. “If he can capitalize here, he just might be able to grab the victory!”

 

“Oof!” Fasaki almost has the wind knocked out of him, but still he holds on determined not to let this no-good-painted-face-son-of-a-knob-slobbing-bitch get past him. “Did joo forget about me?” Wildchild says with a smirk, not even noticing Ejiro as he raises his hand to his shoulder, and grabs a hold of his chain.

 

CRACK!!

 

The sound of a chain whipping around cracks through the arena just before it tags Wildchild in the side! Wildchild yelps in pain as the stinging sensation sets in, and his eyes widen as Fasaki brings the chair around again, only this time tagging Wildchild in the jaw!

 

CRACK!!

 

“... And there goes Wildchild!” says Riley as the Bahama Bomber is knocked from the ladder to the mat! Fasaki lets out a sigh of relief, then unravels his chain onto the ladder step, and begins to slowly climb up once again.

 

Meanwhile the fight between Judge Hearford and Johnny Dangerous ensues! Johnny swings for Hearford’s head, but Judge sees it a mile away and ducks the blow, letting Dangerous’ fist sail right over his head - Johnny spins completely around, and Judge snags him, wrapping his massive arms around The Barracuda’s waist! Johnny struggles, sending an elbow flying back into Hearford’s head, but the Judge is undeterred, and rips Dangerous off the mat, falls backwards, and plants the Back of the Secret Agent’s neck into the canvas with a German suplex!

 

WHAM!!

 

Judge holds onto his hold and begins to drag Johnny back up to his feet.

 

“Hearford is looking to turn this into a series of rolling Germans!” says Stevens. “And Ejiro is almost up to the top!”

 

“Damn straight!” says Riley. “You might as well go ahead and pass that twenty my way, cause Justice and Rule are as good as gold. Gold as in what the Tag Team Championship belts are made from!”

 

“I know what they are made from, Smart-ass!”

 

Knowing that is all up to him to put a stop to Justice and Rule retaining the Tag Titles, Wildchild shoves his pain aside, and once again pulls himself up to his feet. This time however, he makes his way for the second ladder, set up earlier by Judge, climbing to the top in a matter of seconds. At the same time, Judge tightens his lock around Johnny’s waist and begins to hoist him up and over again...

 

 

SLAM!!

 

Out of nowhere Kross, comes charging back into the ring armed with a chair, and wraps the steel around the back of Hearford’s head! Judge releases Dangerous, letting him slump to the mat as his eyes roll back into his head and he wobbles a step back... then falls like a fresh cut tree to the mat, landing with a tremendous thud!!

 

WHAM!!

 

“Where did he come from?” ask Stevens as the crowds let out a joyful noise, and Kross raises his chair out to them in victory! “None the less, he just put a serious stop to Hearford’s plan of destruction.”

 

With his eyes locked firmly onto the metal ring that the Tag Team Titles are dangling from, Wildchild hunkers down at the top of the ladder, and grabs onto the front of the steel, ready to launch himself at any given notice, sparking a resounding cheer from the audience who are literally on the edge of their seats!

 

“For Pete‘s sake!” cries Bobby. “Wildchild is perched up there like he’s... Spider-Man! What’s he going to do next, grab the titles with his web shooters? Someone has been to the movies once too many!”

 

“Well he’s not going to just let Ejiro Fasaki take those belts without a fight,” replies Stevens. “Maybe if Ejiro wasn’t so short he could of reached those belts by now.”

 

Ejiro reaches out as far as he length challenged arms can, but it’s just not enough so another step and another rung higher is in order. “Yessss.” he says to himself in between slight chuckles as he ascends the final step and reaches up once more to retrieve his titles, amid a searing jeer from the crowds.

 

“THIS IS IT!” shrieks Riley as he grabs onto Grand Slams arm and begins to shake it. “Justice and Rule are about to come out on top once again!”

 

Just when all appears to be safe, Fasaki turns his head towards the other ladder where Wildchild waits and instantly he knows he’s in for it, and at that same instant the Bahaman leaps from his platform! The audience hold their breath as they watch him slice through the air like an arrow headed straight for Fasaki, or at least he would appear to be headed for Ejiro, but the metal ring the titles are clasped to is his target, which he grabs onto and swings out on!

 

“What the hell is he doing?” ask Riley.

 

“I dunno,” replies Mark, “but he just put some serious distance between Ejiro and those belts!”

 

Like a scene straight out of a high flying trapeze act, Wildchild swings out as far as he can then lets go and spins his body in mid air, then grabs back onto the ring in a fraction of a second, nabbing an obligatory “Ooh!” from the stunned audience! Fasaki watches in awe at the Bahama Bomber's circus acrobatics, not sure what to think... that is until Wildchild begins to swing back down, headed for him like a wrecking ball about to rip apart an old building, and then he panics!

 

“WATCH OUT RULE!” Bobby tries to warn, but there isn’t much time for him to react because a second later and Wildchild swings in on Fasaki and hooks his legs around Ejiro’s neck! “Dis is for what cha did in dat scaffold match, bitch!” says the Wildchild to a frightened Ejiro Fasaki just before he lets go of the metal ring, and flips backwards with a Rana, tearing Fasaki from the ladder and sending both men plunging towards the canvas!

 

“LOOK OUT!” cries Riley

 

WHHAAAAAAAAMMMM!!!

 

 

“OH MY GOD!” shouts Mark Stevens just as the pair slams into the mat, bounce back into the air, and then crumble back into the canvas! “I can’t believe what my eyes have seen and if you can hear these crowds I don’t think they can believe it either!”

 

“HO-LY SHIT!”

 

“HO-LY SHIT!”

 

“HO-LY SHIT!”

 

“Wildchild is a lunatic!” says Riley. “He could have just killed poor Ejiro there, along with himself!”

 

Standing amid four men scattered across the ring, Kross stands with his mouth gaping wide open at the sight he just witnessed until...

 

“BRAH!” Kris, finally awakened shouts towards his brother as he peers inside the ring then begins to climb in. “You kicked all their asses, all by yourself!”

 

“Oh, Please!” cries Bobby. “He couldn’t possibly...”

 

Not one to dispute his brother, Kross nods his head yes with one of those “I’m a badass” cocky smirks etched upon his face. “You sooooo ROCK!!” Kris shouts, smacking his fist against his brothers. “Lets get our titles!”

 

“And not a soul is alive to stop them!” Grand Slam replies with a smile.

 

“Oh stuff it!”

 

Instantly the pair make for the ladders, and begin to climb.

 

“Brah, wait!” shouts Kross.

 

“What?”

 

“I got an idea! I saw this on some other show once. Go grab a table!”

 

“What for?”

 

“Dude, we can take it up top. I saw these one dudes do it before in this type of match, and they won. So if it worked for them, it’s got to work for us!”

 

“Let’s do it!”

 

Without another word the twins leap off the top step of the ladder, and slide out of the ring, grabbing the first table they come across and slide it into the ring grabbing a cheap pop from the crowds for the table.

 

“What in the world are those two morons up to?” ask Bobby.

 

“Hell if I know,” replies Mark, “but color me intrigued as to what they plan to do!”

 

Kross rearranges the ladders to be straight across from one another, only with enough of a gap to set the table on top of it. The pair each grab one end of the table, and with a bit of a struggle, begins to take it up to the top of the ladders.

 

“You have GOT to be kidding me,” says Riley.

 

“Apparently not.”

 

A moment or possibly two goes by, but before much longer Déjà Vu has the table perched o top of the two ladders, the ends supported by the top of each ladder.

 

“Alright, so... what now Brah?” Kris quizzically asks.

 

“Dude... we can walk over and get the belts,” says Kross, motioning towards the hanging titles that are just now a reach away.

 

“This is just bullshit!” cries Bobby. “Déjà Vu are about to just steal those titles without even DOING anything. Someone needs to put a stop to this match before anything really bad happens!”

 

“Like what? Déjà Vu winning the Tag Team Championship?”

 

“Exactly!”

 

Kross hesitates for a moment, but with the crowds cheering him on he climbs up top the table, and begins slowly inching towards the belts.

 

“THIS IS IT!” shouts Grand Slam, trying to make sure his voice can be heard over the overbearing cheers of the fans. “Ladies and Gentlemen, we are about to have brand new Tag Team Champions! Who would of thunk it? Déjà Vu are finally about to put Justice and Rules reign to an end!”

 

“BRAH, WAIT!” Kris shouts just as Kross reaches up and grabs onto the belt, but lets go as his brothers’ sudden shouting startles him! “I want to get the belts! Let me do it!”

 

“No way, Brah!” Kross responds, “it was my idea to put the table up here, I get to win the match!”

 

“Un-Uh! I’m older, I have to lead us into victory!”

 

“Yeah? By what? Five minutes?”

 

“So what! I was still the first to roll out of Mom’s cro...”

 

“DUDE!! NO!! Okay, we’ll settle this like men! Stick your duke out!” says Kross as he extends his open hand out to his twin. Kris excitedly hops up to the table and with both men on their knee’s grasp each others hand.

 

“What are they doing?” ask Bobby.

 

“Quiet, I’m trying to see.” replies Grand Slam as he reaches under the table for his handy binoculars.

 

With everyone’s attention so focused on the pair high up top, nobody even notices the Judge as he begins to stir, and crawl towards the ladder.

 

“READY?” says Kross... his twin nods...

 

“ONE!”

 

“TWO!”

 

“THREE!”

 

“PE-KNUCK-LE!”

 

Not another word is said, and the pair tear into each other in the art of thumb war with their tongues hanging out of their mouth their concentration is totally upon the other’s thumb.

 

“Good God!” says Stevens as he lowers the binoculars from his eyes and looks towards Bobby. “They seem to be playing PeKnuckle! I can’t say I agree with that strategy.”

 

“MORONS!” shouts Riley. “I don’t think I could POSSIBLY say it enough! Moron, moron, moron! If they had half a brain cell between the two of them they would reach up there and grab the belts!”

 

“...”

 

“NOT that I want them too. Yeah, that’s it! Keep going!”

 

The two continue to go at it, both appearing to be the equal match to the other, still the game persist.

 

“UNDERWATER!” Kross shouts as he ducks his thumb down.

 

“Depth Charger!” Kris responds, which instantly overrides the first, and Kross is forced to withdraw his thumb.

 

Down below, Judge begins to slowly but stealthily climb the ladder under Kross. He stops as he comes upon the chain hanging from the step, and grabs onto it, then makes his way another step up, cackling under his breath... DUN-DUN-DUHH!!

 

“Hey look!” says Riley. “Judge is on the move!”

 

“BRICK WALL!” Again Kross tries to even his odds, placing an imaginary wall in between their thumbs.

 

“DYNAMITE!” and just like that the wall is gone, at the same time Kris finally notices Judge, who is up to the very top of the ladder - Judge rears back with the chain! “DUDE, LOOK OUT!” Kris shouts as he points towards Judge Mental!

 

The roaring snap of the chain is enough to grab Kross attention. He glances over his shoulder just as Hearford lets loose a vicious growl and slings the chain across Kross’ forehead!

 

WHACK!!

 

The chain slams directly into Kross’ forehead, knocking him backwards and right of the side of the table! The crowds hold their breath as they watch in almost a slow-motion like effect of Kross plunging ten feet below to the canvas, landing with a huge THUD!

 

“JESUS CHRIST!” shouts Stevens! “Hearford is going to KILL somebody!”

 

“Oh, no!” snaps Riley! “It didn’t matter when Wildchild did the same thing! This is JUSTICE at it’s finest!”

 

Kris’ mouth hangs open wider than the Grand Canyon - shocked beyond all forms of disbelief that his other half took such a hit! He slowly turns his head towards the Judge, who begins to crawl up to the table, and then glances towards the titles. Quickly he crawls forward and reaches for the belts in a last ditch effort to secure the win, but Judge dives forward, grabbing Kris’ wrist and forcing it down! “GET THE HELL AWAY FROM MY TITLES!”

 

Unnoticed down in the ring, Johnny drags himself to his knees, crawling over the bodies strewn around the ring and over towards the double ladder setup, pulling himself to his feet. He puts one foot onto the first step off the ladder, preparing to climb until something else catches his attention - a third ladder carelessly left in the corner. He takes another look towards the skyline. “Not much room for a third man up there.” he thinks to himself, and so he hops down and hobbles over towards the corner, retrieving the third ladder.

 

Back atop the ladder, on the makeshift platform, Kris and Judge continue to struggle for the right to retrieve the tag team championship belts. “Dude, let go,” shouts Kris. “Those belts are sooooo ours!”

 

“Over my dead body,” growls Hearford in response. Meanwhile, as Johnny unfolds the third ladder, places it perpendicular to the table hanging from the edges of the other two ladders and begins to climb, Ejiro and Wildchild both begin to stir in the ring. Wildchild and Ejiro crawl towards each other, exchanging a few blows as they get to their knees, and use each other to bring themselves to their feet all the while slinging punches! Fasaki appears to get the best of his brawl with Wildchild, and begins to whip him towards the ropes, but the Bahama Bomber reverses and sends Ejiro sailing into the ropes instead!

 

Johnny makes it to the top of his ladder, just mere feet away from the double ladders where both Judge and Kris are locked in an epic struggle to one up the other. At the same time Ejiro is rebounding off the ropes, and seeing what his partner is about to do, he realizes that he’s going to have to move quickly, knowing that he’ll only have one shot. Judge and Déjà Vu, on the other hand, are oblivious to what’s going on down in the ring, and therefore are not prepared as Wildchild leaps into the air and plants his feet into Ejiro’s midsection on the rebound, clasping his hands around his neck and arching back, flipping him HIGH into the air…

 

 

 

 

 

 

RIGHT INTO THE SIDE OF THE TABLE!

 

NO! Not quite! Wildchild doesn’t get enough into his toss to get Ejiro that high into the air, and Fasaki flies in between the twin ladders...

 

 

 

 

 

AND RIGHT INTO THE THIRD LADDER CONTAINING JOHNNY DANGEROUS!!

 

 

CRACK!!

 

The ladder begins to teeter backwards from the impact, and the Barracuda only has a split second to react! Quickly, he lunges off the top of the ladder just as it arches back, reaches out... and GRABS onto the side of the high rise table! The crowds let out a mighty pop for this semi-daredevil antic, just as Judge seems to get the better of Kris - grabbing onto his waist he jerks him off his feet, spins around, and plants his back firmly against the table with a quick body slam!

 

WHAM!!

 

Small particles of the tables wood grain fly off from the bottom, almost into Johnny’s eyes, but the Secret Agent is still undeterred and clings to the edge of the table for dear life!

 

“You too, now?” shouts Hearford as Johnny cutting through the air and grabbing onto the table shakes it rather vigorously! Grabbing back onto his chain, Judge slings it out, hoping to swat the Barracuda off the edge with it-

 

CRACK!!

 

Johnny lets go of the table with one hand, and with his other holds on as he rolls over, flipping himself around and changing his position to where he is now facing outward as the edge of the chain slaps the side where he was previously holding onto, tearing a huge chunk out of it!

 

“Just who in the hell does he think he is,” mutters Riley. “Ethan Hunt?”

 

 

“Damn it, Dangerous!” snarls Judge as he whips back on the chain, drawing it back over his shoulder. “Do you EVER! FUCKING! DIE!?”

 

CRACK!!

 

The snarling growl of the chain rings out as Judge swings it down towards Johnny’s hand, but once again the Barracuda dodges - holding on with one hand, he swings underneath the table, reaches out and grabs onto the opposite side of the table!

 

"Dear Lord!" says Stevens, fumbling his fingers and sweating bullets at the sight. "Johnny is swinging from one end of the table to the other like it’s a tree in his backyard!"

 

"I hope he falls!" remarks Bobby. "All he’s doing is distracting Judge from the true task at hand - grabbing his belts!"

 

Again the chain bites a chunk out of the table, seemingly weakening the structure, but Hearford still persists, not even paying attention to what he is doing.

 

 

Johnny tries to pull himself to the top as he places his forearm on top of the table and begins to pull himself up. “This is it you little, bitch,” says Judge as he begins to wind the chain around his wrist to get a firmer grip, then whips the chain back over his shoulder... and swings for Johnny’s head just as the Barracuda is almost able to get halfway onto the table!

 

CRACK!!

 

At the last second, Johnny drops down, clinging to the edge with one hand as the chain comes just inches from tagging his hand, yet again taking another chunk out of the table. Dangerous sees his opportunity and seizes it, grabbing the end of the chain with his free hand just before Judge tries to whip it back. Hearford stalls as the weight of the chain grows by two hundred pounds, and then realizes that Johnny has a hold of the other end. “Shit!” he shouts just as he peers down and sees that Dangerous has the chain wrapped around his own hand, looks up... winks at Judge... and lets go off the table!

 

Johnny drops down and quickly rocks his legs back and forth, swinging as far as he can to his left, trying to grab back onto the edge of the ladder, just as Judge is pulled forward, right off his feet...

 

 

AND SLAMS CHEST FIRST RIGHT ONTO KRIS, SHATTERING THE TABLE UPON IMPACT!!

 

CRRAAAAAAAAASSSHHH!!!!

 

Johnny lunges forward and manages to grab onto the step of the ladder, letting go of the chain as he does. Quickly he hugs the ladder as tight as he can while shielding his head with one arm as Judge and Kris tear down the middle of the archway along with all sorts of falling debris from the table!

 

 

WHAAAAAMMM!!

 

Kris lands first along with Judge a nanosecond behind. The remains of the table isn’t far behind either, landing right on top of the pair and burying them under the rubble!

 

The crowds cut loose with a MAGNIFICENT cheer while Johnny, in between deep breaths, gazes downward at the wreckage then begins to crawl to the top of the ladder! He grabs onto the top step of the ladder with one hand and leans back, reaching upwards for the titles that hang in the middle of the two ladders! The fans hold tightly to the edge of their seats, crossing their fingers and praying to Allah in hope...

 

Suddenly, down below, Fasaki jumps to his feet and almost instantly rushes for the ladder! Wildchild doesn’t even notice, with his attention focused entirely upon the titles and Johnny Dangerous until a loud clang rings out, shaking Dangerous’ ladder!

 

 

Johnny leaps into the air a split second before Ejiro crashes into the ladder with all his might, and makes a spectacular grab onto the metal ring holding the belts as Fasaki knocks the ladder over! Quickly, Wildchild rushes towards Rule, jumps up... and SLAMS both of his feet right into Fasaki’s chest, ferociously slinging him to the mat!!

 

“Johnny’s still up there,” shouts Stevens. “Wild and Dangerous are STILL going to win it!”

 

“He’ll never get it done,” scoffs Riley. “He’s just a weak link.”

 

Down in the ring, Wildchild screams up at his partner, “C’mon, Johnny! Grab de belts, and we win! I know you can do it!” Johnny, hanging above the ring, and holding onto the tag belts for dear life, starts to try and unclasp the belts but starts to lose his grip and stumbles, just barely able to continue to hold on!

 

“Fall, dumbass, fall,” yells Riley.

 

“You can do it,” screams Wildchild. “I have faith in you!”

 

With a newfound sense of determination, Johnny reaches back up for the clasp. As he starts to unhook it, he begins to succumb to his injuries. Unable to continue to support his weight, Johnny falls from the sky down to the canvas…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

HOLDING THE TAG TEAM TITLES!

 

 

The crowd explodes with orgasmic cheers and the referee rings the bell, as Wildchild drags his partner out of the ring! Funyon rises up from his ringside seat to make his proclamation. “Ladies and Gentlemen, here are your winners… and NEEEEEW SMARKS WRESTLING FEDERATION TAG TEAM CHAMPIONS OF THE WOOOOOOOORLD!!! WIIIIILD!!! AAAAAAAAND DAAAAANGEROUS!!!”

 

 

“How about that,” crows Stevens. “Johnny came through for his team after all!”

 

“How can you be happy at a time like this,” groans Riley. “This is a tragedy! This is a miscarriage of justice!”

 

“This is a title changing hands,” adds Stevens. “What an impressive victory by Wildchild and Johnny Dangerous! Overcoming all odds to win in this incredibly challenging match! Who knows what we’ve got in store for the main event, coming up NEXT!”

[Guest 5_moves_of_doom]

The Pepsi Center lets out a warm glow into the nippy Colorado night, illuminating everything around it. A few rowdy teenagers have crossed out the word “Pepsi” on the sign outside and spray painted “Coke” in its place, but aside from that, the atmosphere is just right for an SWF Pay-Per-View.

 

“SWF BATTLEGROUND” a bright, Titanatron-esque sign reads out front of the arena, followed closely by “And Tomorrow Night, the Rolling Stones On Ice!!”

 

The camera pans the exterior of the Pepsi Center for just a few more seconds, and then finally… we cut to where the real action is.

 

*** BOOM ***

 

A burst of silvery pyro flares up from the entrance ramp, almost sending the AH-64 Apache helicopter that’s set up right next to the Smarktron up into flames, foreshadowing the Main Event!! “Not Falling” by Mudvayne starts up, and the noise level is off the hook! The camera quickly scans the amped live audience here tonight in Denver, Colorado, dozens upon dozens of signs dotting the audience, from “Déjà Vu Knows Kung Fu” to “Michelle, Let Me Be The King Of YOUR Jungle!” Finally, after doing a rather detailed overview of the entire PPV set, complete with decommissioned military vehicles and artillery pieces, the camera comes to a screeching halt at our two favorite SWF commentators… two ONLY SWF commentators…

 

“Ladies, gents, and everything in between… we’ve seen new faces, title defenses, and blood feuds; we’ve seen grapplers tear eachother apart inside a steel cage, two old rivals duke it out, and one team come out victorious over all the others in a TLC match; we’ve seen just about everything that you can fathom, but now, it’s time… it’s time…” Stevens’ car salesman voice crescendos…

 

“I know what time it is!” Bobby Riley says proudly.

 

“…for our MAIN EVENT!!!!!”

 

“Aw dammit, it’s NEVER Vader Time!”

 

“Yes, that’s right boys and girls, we’ve got the cocky yet cowardly SWF champion, Tom Flesher…”

 

“You forgot handsome.”

 

“…defending his World Title against the long-standing team of Taylor Nicholas Thompson and Frost!”

 

“But they’re not a team here! They’ve got to fight eachother too!”

 

“Well, it is true that these two aren’t teaming up for this match, and they will indeed be wrestling eachother, but that doesn’t mean that they’ll have the same bias towards eachother as they do towards Tom Flesher – a man that they both hate.”

 

“Out of envy, of course.”

 

“No comments from the peanut gallery, please. Anyhow, this match has more history behind it than the showdown between Captain Kirk and Khaan did, and you’ve seen it all recapped before in video packages, so we’ll skip the tomfoolery and get right down to business! We go now to Funyon!”

 

The camera cuts over to the center of the ring, where Funyon stands erect in a Revolutionary War uniform (because, well, it’s Battleground,) mic in hand, and voice ready to boom: “Ladies and gentlemen and the Suicide King… this is our MAIN EVENT!!” The crowd pops funky monkey squared, and Funyon pauses, before continuing. “This contest is scheduled for one fall, and is a TRIPLE THREAT MATCH FOR THE SWF WORLD HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPIONSHIP!! Disqualification and count-out rules are IN effect, and if such a decision should occur, the World Title CAN change hands!!” The crowd cheers once more, this time at the mere fact that Taamo won’t be able to squeak out with a cheap win tonight. “Also, only two men are allowed in the ring at once, and the third man, who shall remain the apron, can be tagged in by either wrestlers at any time! The first man to score a fall on another, WILL become the SWF HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPION OF THE WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORLD!!!!!!!”

 

The crowd’s cheers reach an absolute climax as “TNT” by AC/DC echoes throughout every single nook and cranny of the Pepsi Center, and the former World Champ himself appears at the pinnacle of the entrance ramp, every fan in the entire arena chanting along with Bon Scott’s “oy’s!” in between screams of support!!

 

“And here he is!!” Mark Stevens barks over the crowd’s earsplitting reaction. “The man who lost his World Heavyweight Title less than a month ago, and is looking to regain his gold here tonight!”

 

“Of course he lost! He’s a loser!”

 

Finally, the lyrics kick in, and Taylor picks up the pace, striding down the ramp and stopping halfway to the ring. He looks from side to side, and then drops his head, waiting for it… waiting for it…

 

“Watch me explooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooode!!!!!!!”

 

Bon Scott’s vocals reach their peak, and the crowd’s cheers almost double in size as Taylor makes the Diamond Cutter motion with his hands, bringing them down and causing what seems like an entire sea of red and orange pyro to explode from the stage!! “TNT” continues, and the explosive one completes his trek down to the ring rather quickly, sliding into the squared circle and basking in his deafening reception!

 

“Introducing first…” Funyon starts. “He is our first challenger tonight, weighing in at 266 pounds and hailing from the Red-Wing-beating region that is Anaheim, California… the explosive one… the dynamite warrior… ‘TNT’ Tayloooooorrrrrrrrrrrrr Nicholaaaaaaaasssssssssssssss THOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMPSOOOOOOOOOOOONNNNN!!!!!!!!!!”

 

Taylor raises his arms into the air and does another Diamond Cutter motion, yelling “KABOOM!” at the top of his lungs. “TNT” fades out however, and just as the crowd’s buzz starts to fade…

 

“What you get and what you see”

”Things that don't come easily”

”Feeling happy in my vein”

”Icicles within my brain”

 

“Snowblind” funks from the loudspeakers, and curtains of silvery pyro are drawn down from the rafters. The crowd lets out a low hum of anticipation as a pale blue spotlight shines down onto the stage, and makeshift snow drifts down from what seems to be nowhere. Frost stays backstage a bit longer than usual tonight, as if to create a dramatic effect, but when he does step out from behind the curtain, the crowd goes absolutely, positively WILD!!!! Though a cloud of smoke from his Frost brand cigar shrouds most of his face, almost everyone can tell that he’s a bit surprised at just how loud his reaction is, as he hesitates for a moment or two before raising a clenched fist into the air and sulking down the entrance ramp.

 

“And the second challenger in this match, tipping the scales at 296 pounds and wrestling out of Reykjavik, Iceland… the Velvet Hammer… FROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOST!!!!!!!”

 

“Something blowing in my head”

”Winter's ice, it soon will spread”

”Death would freeze my very soul”

”Makes me happy, makes me cold”

 

Frost grinds his cigar out on his boot and gets into the ring, ready to win himself a World Title. The crowd’s cheers don’t falter a bit however, and they continue on at full volume as the Velvet hammer quickly slaps hands with TNT and gives him a nod of respect.

 

“I can’t tell who got the louder reception!!” Mark says in amazement. “These two are both popular up the wazoo due to their anti-Flesher morals, and I think that the fans will be going happy tonight as long as the Superior One leaves the ring empty handed.”

 

”Hah!!” Bobby guffaws. “And Lou Reed will rise from the dead and take over the World!”

 

“…Lou Reed isn’t… dead, Bobby.”

 

“Oh, well, who’s that other one? With the glasses and the funny hair?”

 

“Groucho Marx?”

 

”Ah, that’s who I was thinking of.”

 

“…Right. Well, either way, between Frost and Taylor, there’s a lot of Tom-hate in that ring right now, but I don’t think that either man would hesitate to pin the other if given the chance. It is the World Title, after all.”

 

“Teammates my foot. Just wait until they’re trying to set fire to eachother in the heat of a World Title contest, Marky Mark!”

 

“Snowblind” fades out into nothingness, and the crowd is already booing by the time the opening of “Kashmir” blares from the arena’s speaker system. Frost and TNT’s collective attention is snapped towards the backstage curtain, and one can actually see the fire in their eyes.

 

“Our God is an awesome God!!” Bobby shrieks as loud as he can, raising his arms into the air and looking up into the Heavens, before whispering a quick “thank you.”

 

“Possibly the most hated man in the fed, and here he is!”

 

Blue pyro sporadically emits from the stage in large bursts, and once the smoke clears, “The Superior One” Tom Flesher can be vaguely spotted at the top of the stage, World Title strapped prominently around his waist! The arena is filled up to its maximum capacity, and every single person in the crowd is booing like they’ve never booed before as Tom cockily ambles down the ramp, before sliding into the ring, being especially cautious of Frost and TNT. Beer cups and half-eaten hotdogs soar into the ring, a particularly hefty extra-large cup of soda nailing Flesher right in the head, sending its contents splashing all over. Tom’s eyes narrow, but he quickly regains his composure, opting to use the cup’s contents to slick back his hair instead of attacking a fan. TNT and Frost only watch on as Flesher bobs his head up and down to the music, and then, when the symphonic hook hits…

 

*** BOOM ***

 

…blue and white pyrotechnics explode from each turnbuckle!! Tom raises his arms in the air to celebrate his premature victory, and the music fades out, just in time for Funyon to come upon the index card of doom…

 

“Oh God, must he do this every match?” Mark asks disgustedly.

 

“Of course! Entertainment at its finest. At Gallagher levels, even!”

 

“Ugh…” Funyon squints down at the index card, and reluctantly reads: “Our World Champion, Tom Flesher, 213 pounds of sexual tastiness and hailing from Buffalo, New York, would like to inform his two fellow competitors tonight, that he ‘owns you for free, and without even trying.’ Also, he would like to note, to Frost, the fact that ‘Sydney Sky was delicious.”

 

Frost’s face turns a deep red, and he tells Taylor that he’ll be starting out in the ring tonight without letting the explosive one even object. TNT starts to step out of the ring, but before he can, Flesher grabs him by the shoulder, and spins him around. Thompson turns around about ready to throw a punch, but Tom makes a peace sign, and informs him that he WILL be starting out in the ring tonight, with Frost. TNT starts to object, but Funyon distractedly states “It would also be worth noting that Tom Flesher, YOUR World Champion, will be choosing which two wrestlers start out in the ring tonight” as he thumbs through his money. Flesher gracefully hands his belt over to referee Brian Hebner, before smarmily stepping out onto the ring apron. Thompson and Frost exchange slightly concerned glances, as Hebner raises the World Title belt into the air to indicate that it’s up for grabs, and then hands it to a nearby ring attendant. Funyon exits the ring as well, and Hebner signals the bell!! The main event of SWF Battleground is rocking!

 

*** DING DING DING ***

 

“It looks like Frost and TNT will be starting this match out, but remember, if one of them pins the other, the title WILL change hands! A little risky for Tom to not be in the ring to make sure that his belt doesn’t change hands on a fall that doesn’t involve him, eh Bobby?”

 

“Pbbth, as if these two Neanderthals even know what ‘pinning’ is.”

 

Brian Hebner motions for the two behemoths that together form Chilly Chilly Bang Bang to go at it, and upon his signal, Frost and TNT nod at eachother… and then tie up with a HARD collar-and-elbow lock!!

 

“No handshakes, no whispers of encouragement… the World Title is on the line here, and these two know it! They’ll be giving it their all, no questions asked!” Mark yells over the enthusiastic crowd as the clash of the titans occurs inside the ring.

 

Frost and TNT both jockey for position, neither man gaining any clear advantage in the first few seconds of the lockup. Tom Flesher claps on the outside and screams words of bogus support at the two grapplers, in the meantime enjoying the leisurely atmosphere of standing on the apron and doing absolutely no work himself. The big men still desperately attempting to gain some steadfast footing on the mat, and Frost is the first to do that, as he grinds the sole of his right boot into the canvas and coerces his body forward!! The crowd “ooh’s!” as the Velvet Hammer overpowers his allied opponent, and forces him right into the corner of the ring!! He puts all of his wait on Taylor, pushing him up against the turnbuckle, but referee Brian Hebner quickly makes the count, and Frost respectfully releases his grasp on the dynamite warrior at three.

 

“These two are looking very aggressive tonight, both intent on winning the World Title from the menacing Tom Flesher, but they still respect eachother, and Frost, like a gentlemen, released his hold on TNT at the appropriate time,” Mark says reverentially, impressed by Frost’s nobility in following the rules.

 

“Oh, great, the big dumb polar bear knows that rules exist, good for him.”

 

“Well, I doubt that Flesher would have let go there without hitting a cheap shot of some sort… he’d at least keep the hold on until the ref reached four.”

 

“Are you kidding!? Tom is the most law-abiding citizen of his home state!”

 

“…Well, when you live in New York I’m sure that’s not too hard.”

 

Frost backs away and the referee makes sure that the two are a fair distance apart… but he doesn’t keep control for very much longer, as TNT hauls right out of his corner and nails Frost with a HUGE burning lariat!!!

 

“BURNING LARIATOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” Stevens wails, revealing that he is indeed bilingual.

 

“And Frost hits the ground harder than a snowman being plowed down by a snowplow! Bahah!” Bobby giggles with glee.

 

“Frost backed away from TNT, abiding by the rules, but that didn’t mean a respectable recovery and restarting of the action, it just meant that he’d almost get his teeth knocked out by a vicious lariat, courtesy of Taylor Nicholas Thompson!! TNT really wants to regain his World Title, and though he respects Frost, he won’t hesitate to knock his block off!”

 

Frost wobbles a bit as he spins up to his feet, and before he can regain his balance, TNT turns around, and charges in with another… NO! Frost drops down to the mat and flips Taylor right over him with a quick armdrag!! TNT hits the mat but one can barely tell as he pops up to his feet within a second! He charges back in at Frost, and Frost charges back in at him, as the two meet near the center of the ring with yet another collar-and-elbow lock; this one much more sloppy and much more vigorous than the first.

 

“Chilly Chilly Bang Bang ties up once again, and these two look like rugby players!! Never before have I seen such a hard-hitting start to a match!”

 

“Tear eachother’s throats out for all I care, as long as one of you is dead enough for Tom to pin at the end.”

 

Frost pivots over and latches on a side headlock, before flipping Taylor over onto his back with a headlock takedown. TNT knows just what to do however, reaching up with his legs and squeezing them right across Frost’s throat with a headscissors!! He pries Frost off of him, and as soon as he loosens his legs’ grip on his partner’s head, the two men scurry away from eachother, hopping up to their feet once more. The crowd gives that last sequence a standing ovation, greatly appreciating the first-rate action that they’re witnessing, and Frost and TNT just stare at eachother with glints of respect in their eyes. Suddenly, Frost breaks a slight smile, and he says something along the lines of “we better not have all the fun ourselves…” to TNT, who cracks a grin himself, before nodding and strolling right over the Superior One. He reaches out to make the tag and the crowd pops big at the thought of Frost having Tom all to himself, but their cheers turn to jeers as Flesher shakes head “no” and drops right off the apron, refusing to be tagged into the match! He points a finger at Taylor and continues to shake his head, smirking cockily at the fact that he has absolute power over how much work he has to put into retaining his World Title here tonight. Taylor sighs, and turns to face Frost, who shrugs… and the two start circling eachother, completely willing to go at it until they can get Flesher into the ring.

 

“What a genius!”

 

“What a coward!”

 

“I salute Tom Flesher for his actions here tonight. I mean, letting the two gorillas kill eachother is genius! These aren’t even worthy of Flesher putting forth any effort towards them. I mean, at least he’s giving the crowd what they want – entertainment, otherwise he’d have already killed both men by now, and squashes don’t’ draw.”

 

“Tom has gotten out of tagging range and he doesn’t seem to want to get back onto the apron… wait… wait… he’s coming over here!”

 

Indeed, just as Stevens suggested, Tom paces right over to the commentary table, and politely asks Bobby for a headset. Riley complies, handing the headset to Flesher, who puts it on, and…

 

“Whew, hey subjects. It’s nice to be here on commentary with you guys,” Tom says cheerfully.

 

“Tom, shouldn’t you be wrestling right now? I mean, that IS your job…”

 

“Well, I don’t really see the po—“

 

“Don’t hassle the man Mark! He’s had a long day and we should feel blessed to have him commentating right here beside us!”

 

Tom shoots Riley a sharp glare.

 

“NEVER, interrupt me.”

 

“Ehrm, yes sir,” Bobby half-says, half-whimpers.

 

Frost and Taylor circle around eachother for a few moments as the crowd’s anticipation swells to its maximum potential, before locking up a third time in the middle of the ring!! Both struggle for supremacy in strength, but this time, even after a full minute of grappling, neither man gains even the smallest advantage over the other!!

 

“Look at this!” Tom guffaws. “It’s like watching two monkeys fight over a banana.”

 

“At least they’re fighting…” Stevens mutters.

 

“And, when Donkey and Diddy wear themselves out…” Bobby continues with the ape theme. “Tommy will be right there to reap the benefits of this monkey business! Just how do you come up with these ingenious plans, Tom??”

 

Flesher points to his head. “It alllllll comes from right here.”

 

“…Your skin?”

 

“No, my brain.”

 

The collective duo of Chilly Chilly Bang Bang is terribly frustrated by now, as neither former Tag Champ can get the upper hand. Then, both seemingly thinking the same thing at the same time, the two wrestlers withdraw from the collar-and-elbow tie up… and start throwing hard rights at eachother, breaking into an all-out brawl!!!!! The crowd is going completely nuts by now, as though the friendship, respect, and honor is still there, TNT and Frost are fighting against eachother as hard as they can!! Though both competitors put forth every ounce of effort in their bodies, Frost, the former amateur boxer of the two, uses his “hands of stone” to his advantage, outmatching his partner and boxing him all the way back into the ropes. Taylor is on the defense now, reeling back against the cables and taking everything that Frost has to give, but it doesn’t last very long, as Frost grabs a hold of TNT’s wrist, and whips him to the ropes on the opposite side of the ring!!

 

“Careful there, the little sparkly guy might trip. He’s not very coordinated,” Tom says, and then snickers to himself.

 

“Taylor’s only real advantage over Frost is his speed and perhaps chain wrestling, but so far, he’s been able to showcase none of that! The matchup between these two has been rather even so far, but Frost has had the advantage on the most part, having been able to display his almost unbeatable strength on several occasions!” Mark points out.

 

TNT comes bounding back towards Frost, and the Iceman from Iceland prepares to catch him with something… but Taylor uses what agility he has to slide right between Frost’s legs, and pop up behind him!! A surprised Frost spins around to go head-to-head with his good friend, but Taylor is ready for him, catching him with a boot to the gut that doubles him over in pain!! Before Frost can recover, TNT grabs a hold of his head and hastily tucks it in between his legs with a standing headscissors, preparing for a Mushroom Cloud… but Frost knows the move all too well, promptly flipping Taylor over his head with a back body drop before he can even hook the arms!!

 

“Mushroom Clou—NO! Frost quickly escapes TNT’s attempt at his finisher, but Taylor gets up to his feet very quickly, not willing to stay down…” Mark watches on as TNT lands hard on his back, but speedily spins up to his feet, turning around to hit Frost with a clothesline, a lariat, a forearm… anything to keep him from getting the advantage…

 

…but sadly, Frost is right there to meet him, clasping a large mitt around his throat with a chokehold!! Taylor’s eyes get as wide as full-grown Chia Pets, but he doesn’t even fully realize what’s going on until it’s too late; Frost lifts Taylor right off of the mat – a single hand on his back for support – and CRATERS him down into the ground with a BRUTAL CHOKESLAM!!!!!! The marks (and hell, the smarts too) mark out bigger than they have all night!!!!

 

“TNT’s Mushroom Cloud attempt failed, but Frost went for a move much easier to pull off and yet with nearly the same deadliness – the chokeslam – and succeeded!! Now all he’s got to do is make the pin… and the first pin attempt of the match could be the last, as TNT isn’t showing any signs of life!!” Stevens commentates, being a commentator and all.

 

Tom is panicked, and all he manages is “OH MY GOD!! No! STOP!!” before throwing his headset down and sprinting towards the ring!!

 

“Go lover! GO!” Bobby shouts after the World Champion.

 

Taylor lies motionless in the center of the ring, and Frost just stares down at him for a few seconds, doubtful of what to do… but then, with a sigh, he drops down with a lateral press, making the cover! The crowd counts along with the zebra as the Superior One darts over to the ring as fast as he possibly can, not ready to lose his World Title in a fall that doesn’t even involve him!

 

 

“ONE!!”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“TWO!!”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“THR—NO!!!”

 

 

Brian Hebner’s hand stops just a few inches above the mat as Tom Flesher makes a desperate dive onto the Chilly Chilly Bang Bang dog pile, BARELY breaking up the pin with a sloppy shotei drop!! The crowd is a bit relieved at TNT not being pinned, but they’re more consumed in the fact that Tom Flesher just stopped Frost from winning the SWF World Heavyweight Title, and the boos are in full effect!!

 

“Oh thank God!” Bobby says thankfully, letting out a sigh of relief.

 

“Tom just barely broke up the pin there, but he’s not a legal man in this match, and Brian Hebner is already ordering him to leave the ring! Frost has GOT to be fuming though,” Grand Slam notes.

 

Hebner stands toe-to-toe with Tom, demanding that he leave the ring, but the Superior One would rather verbally berates the referee than abide his laws, and he makes this quite evident. Suddenly though, a hulking mass rises from behind the referee, and Tom’s skin turns snow white… just as he takes off at full speed!! Flesher bails out of the ring, tumbling through the ropes, but Frost is in hot pursuit, his face etched with fury and his arms reaching out to catch his prey.

 

“Tom’s name may be Tom, but right now he’s acting like Jerry!” the Heavy Hitter comments.

 

“…” Bobby says, or to be more accurate, doesn’t.

 

“…No one else watched cartoons when they were kids?”

 

Brian Hebner starts to count Frost out of the ring, but not one fan even notices, as Frost’s anger drives him at speeds that no one knew he could manage, and he actually catches up to Tom…

 

“He’s got him… he’s got him… no!! Tom rolls back into the ring!” Stevens yells, interested in how this is going to turn out.

 

Frost slides right in after his former tag team partner, but meanwhile, his current one has torpidly made his way to his feet. Tom whizzes past TNT, who has no clue as to what’s going on… and, assuming that he and Frost are still duking it out, Taylor sees Frost running at him… and catches him with a HARD spinebuster!!! Frost hits the mat with earth-shattering impact and Taylor pounces right back up to his feet, still hardly able to stand. TNT staggers back into the ring corner and leans against the turnbuckle, trying to shake the cobwebs loose. Tom raises his arms up into the air as if to say “fine Hebner, whatever you want” and steps out onto the ring apron, but seeing Frost in a vulnerable and weakened state… he smiles a malicious grin, before…

 

*** SMACK ***

 

…slapping the hunched-over TNT right on the back, effectively tagging himself into the ring! Flesher enters the squared circle looking like he doesn’t have a care in the World, and before setting all of his attention on Frost; he nonchalantly grabs the dazed and confused TNT by the dreadlocks and hurls him through the ropes and out of the ring! The crowd is just a booing machine tonight!

 

“Tom Flesher gets tagged… or more accurately tags himself into this match right when Frost finds himself on the defense, and now he’s looking to take advantage of Frost’s weakened state! How cowardly is THAT!?” Stevens asks, obviously expecting “very” as an answer.

 

“It’s called being smart. Der. It’s a good thing that Tom has some physical prowess to even out his genius though, which he’ll be proving right now I’m sure by absolutely DOMINATING that pansy Frost!” Bobby forecasts.

 

Frost rolls over onto his belly, holding his back in pain, and pries himself up to his hands and knees… but his recovery is cancelled when Tom comes from his right with a STIFF punt to the side of the head!

 

*** SMACK ***

 

Frost grunts in anguish and rolls away from the Superior One, putting his hand up to his ear and discovering blood! However, Flesher has no sympathy, marching right after Frost, and towing him up to a vertical base so that he can inflict even more punishment! He spins the Velvet Hammer around so that he’s facing the ropes, and, just picking a random move from his playbook that will sufficiently kill his former partner… Tom cinches on a rear waistlock!! The crowd is awfully negative about what’s obviously coming and they sure do show it, but Flesher pays no attention to the audience, concentrating more on getting Frost up… and… all the way… oooovvvvvver… with a…

 

*** THUD ***

 

“DANGEROUS GERMAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” Mark marks like a mark!!!!! “FROST COULD BE DEAD!! A MAN THAT BIG WAS NOT MEANT TO BE DROPPED ON HIS HEAD!!!”

 

Frost’s neck and shoulders thump down onto the mat, but Tom keeps his waistlock on, flipping over and lifting his opponent up to his feet once more…

 

“Oh NO! He’s going for another one!! Frost’s eyes are glazed… I don’t know if he’ll be able to take a second German without suffering a concussion of some sort!”

 

“Ahaha! I LOVE IT!”

 

Frost leans forward slightly to block a second German, but he’s just too out-of-it to do much more than that, and with a little extra effort, Tom heaves 296 pounds of Icelandic goodness over his head with ANOTHER German suplex!! The crowd’s boos echo throughout every nook and cranny of the Pepsi Center!!

 

*** THUD ***

 

“Tom finally agreed to participate in this match once Frost was practically helpless, and now we all can see why! Flesher just wanted to wait until Frost couldn’t even put up a fight, and then… DESTROY him to retain his title!!”

 

“…Well thank you Captain Obvious.”

 

The Superior One seems to be a lot more winded now, but he’s insistent on standing Frost up one more time, and after some struggling… he successfully gets the big man onto his feet! Frost is more a corpse than an athlete now, but Tom takes a little too much time in preparing himself for his lift, and before he knows it, Frost’s eyes flutter open, and he reaches out for the ring ropes, desperately trying to stop himself from being German suplexed a third time!! Unfortunately, Frost comes just a few inches short of reaching the ring ropes, but FORTUNATELY, he manages to get his hands on something else instead!!

 

*** SLAP ***

 

The crowd goes bananas as Frost barely manages to reach a recovered TNT’s hand, making him the legal man!

 

“WHAT!?” Bobby questions. “Where the hell did this buffoon come from!? I thought Tom kicked him out of the ring, dammit!”

 

“Well evidentially he should have hit a move or two to ensure that Taylor wouldn’t recover, because after convalescing on the outside for a couple of minutes, TNT is back in action and ready to kick some superior ASS!” Grand Slam Is so excited that he even lets a curse word slip.

 

Taylor hops into the ring, ready to rumble, and Flesher releases Frost in an attempt to escape, but before he can even start running, Thompson charges him with a series of elbows to the head that sends him reeling all the way across the ring and into the ropes!! Frost collapses on the mat and slides out of the ring, just as Taylor clutches Tom’s wrist with his hand, and whips him across the squared circle, into the opposite ropes!!

 

“Taylor’s only been in there for seconds, and he’s already tearing Tom apart!! For Frost, TNT was a little more collected and respectful in his wrestling style, but now that he’s got the leader of his former stable to himself, he’s just throwing everything that he’s got at him!!”

 

The Superior One hurdles across the ring, reverberating off of the multicolored bands and coming back towards his opponent, who meets him at the halfway point with a GIANT Lou Thesz Press!!! 479 pounds of Tom and Taylor thumps down onto the mat, and even as they hit the ground, TNT already starts delivering various punches to Tom’s face!! The World Champ’s mug swells up more and more with each blow, and once the explosive one gets a little tired of repetitive punching, he rolls off of his rival and kips up to his feet, truly on a roll offense-wise, and not ready to stop!

 

“And listen to this reaction!!!” Mark screams over the cheering crowd. “Not a single fan in the audience is in their seat right now, and TNT is really tearing it up!!!!!”

 

“All part of the plan Mark! Yes, that’s it… Tom’s MASTER PLAN! He’s got this completely under control!”

 

Taylor bounds over to the corner of the ring, eagerly waiting for Tom to reach his feet, and as soon as the Superior One groggily stands up… he’s dropped right back down to the mat with a BRUTALLY STIFF BURNING LARIAT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

“BURNING LARIATOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” Mark wails.

 

“Dammit, didn’t we already use that one??”

 

“TNT had indeed hit Frost with a burning lariat earlier in this match… but what works works, and that certainly did work!”

 

Tom lies on the mat and stares up at the lights, unmoving, and the crowd counts along as TNT makes the quick cover, hooking Tom’s leg!

 

 

“ONE!!”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“TWO!!”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“THR—NO!!”

 

 

The Superior One proves that he very well may be superior after all, barely kicking out at two and a half!! The crowd goes wild, only… with boos!

 

“Oh PRAISE THE LORD!” Bobby says gratefully.

 

“I wouldn’t get all giddy quite yet Bobby!” Mark advises. “Tom kicked out, but it looks like by doing that, he was just giving TNT an excuse to beat him up even more!!”

 

And indeed, skipping the entire “arguing with the referee over the two-count” bit, TNT simply pries Tom’s body off of the canvas, looking to dish out some more punishment!

 

“The question is…” Mark wonders. “…Just what’s Taylor got in mind?”

 

“Probably inventing the wheel, considering how primitive he is,” Bobby guesses.

 

“I’m surprised that you even know what ‘primitive’ means, Bobby.”

 

“…I do?”

 

Taylor manages to haul Tom all the way to his feet, and with only a second or two of contemplation, he decides that it’s time to end it, delivering a hard boot to the Superior One’s gut, and applying a hasty standing headscissors!

 

“He’s going for the Mushroom Cloud!!!!” Mark announces to the viewers at home, who all recite “well, duh” in their heads.

 

“NO! TOM! ESCAPE!! ESCAAAAAAPE!!!!!!”

 

“This maneuver failed on Frost earlier and completely backfired… but Tom doesn’t know right from left after that burning lariat, and I’m not certain that he even knows what the heck is going on!”

 

Taylor leans over and hooks Tom’s arms, trying to get some proper leverage on the Superior One, and then, when he feels that the time is right… he lets out a grunt and raises Tom right off of the mat!!! At least, that’s what he was hoping, but sadly, Flesher has a firm foundation on the mat, and refuses to let TNT lift him up! The crowd boos at the World Champion’s persistence, and Taylor goes to try and pick him up again, but Tom won’t let himself be caught in the deathtrap that is a Mushroom Cloud, and he grinds his feet into the canvas, attempting to raise his head up and flip TNT right over him with a back body drop!! Taylor only falls for a trick once each night though, and before the Superior One manages to send him head-over-heels, he speedily backs away from his evil opponent, releasing the standing headscissors and grabbing a handful of his hair instead! Obviously wanting to stun Flesher, Taylor jerks Tom’s head up so that he’s standing completely erect… and then plunges one, two, three… four… five… six… SEVEN consecutive elbows right into the left side of his cranium!! The cracking of elbow-on-skull rings throughout the arena and the crowd “ooh’s!” at the sickening sound, but Tom doesn’t make any noise at all, practically unconscious after all those stiff strikes, and vulnerable to any further attack that TNT might want to administer!!

 

“OUCH! Did you see those elbows!?” Mark asks.

 

“Those weak little pokes you mean?” Bobby mocks. “Yeah, I saw them, though I could barely even tell that Taylor was on the offense in the first place.”

 

“TNT’s elbows have an extra sharp edge to them thanks to some training under the supervision of SWF Superstar Danny Williams, his former mentor who can throw a strike harder and stiffer than anyone else in this fed, so you have to try and imagine the effects that SEVEN of them would have on Flesher’s gulliver!”

 

Having efficiently stunned his opponent, TNT hurriedly shoves Tom’s head in between his legs once again for the standing headscissors, and this time, without resistance, he hooks his arms and flips him up off the mat into a powerbomb position!!

 

“NO!! NonononononononononoNO!!!” Bobby panics.

 

“Thompson’s got Flesher on his shoulders and…” Grand Slam anticipates what will happen next

 

TNT’s movement is captured in the thousands of camera flashes that emit from just about everywhere in the arena; one minute, Tom’s sitting on his shoulders, and the next…

 

“MUSHROOM CLOUD!! THERE IT IS!!!!!”

 

…he’s SLAMMED down into the mat with a VICIOUS sit-out powerbomb!!!!! The Superior One goes limp, as the zebra dives in to make the count…

 

“NONONONONONONONONONONONONONONONOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!”

 

“Are you done yet?”

 

“NO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

 

“Say ‘no’ all you want Bobby! The fact of the matter is that after a burning lariat and a series of the stiffest elbows we’ve ever seen, TNT has hit the Mushroom Cloud!! This match is OVER!!!”

 

“Where the hell is Frost!? Frost!! I’ll give you a metal if you break this up, buddy!!”

 

 

“ONE!!”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Frost is lying on the outskirts of the ring, his sore head sandwiched between his arms, as he tries to put pressure on his ears in order to stop the blood flow.

 

“Now Tom is relying on Frost to save him, when he himself took the big man out!”

 

 

“TWO!!”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Frost shows little signs of surging back to life, and the crowd explodes as they realize that TNT has regained his World Title… finally…

 

 

“THREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE—NO!!!!!!!! TWO-COUNT!!”

 

 

“WHAT!?”

 

“Happy day!!!”

 

“Tom just kicked out of the Mushroom Cloud, BY HIMSELF!!”

 

Flesher’s shoulder shoots up off of the canvas, a little overdramatically even, and the crowd’s cheers switch over to boos!!

 

“The Superior One can be as smarmy and cowardly as anything sometimes, but when all else fails, he’s still a tough SOB, and he’s very intent on keeping his World Title, too!” Grand Slam says, apparently impressed by the Champ.

 

“Tough SOB is right, Marky Mark! C’mon TNT, why doncha hit another one of your little sissy Mushroom Clouds!? Or two!? Hit as many as you want, because my Tommy is NOT going down! Mwahaha!” Bobby cackles, Tom’s kickout symbolizing his invincibility.

 

Taylor’s eyes narrow, and he grits his teeth maliciously, before jerking himself off of the mat, and then yanking Tom up right after him!! The crowd hums with anticipation, and nobody knows what Taylor has in mind… maybe not even him…

 

“…Uhm, Taylor, you know that ‘whole bunch of Mushroom Clouds’ idea?? Well, heh… I wasn’t SERIOUS,” Riley pleads with Taylor to not go too far.

 

TNT looks back and forth, his eyes fiery red, the gold of the SWF World Title the only thing on his mind. Then, suddenly getting an idea, Taylor hooks an arm around Tom’s chest, and the Superior One’s feet leave the mat for only an instant before he’s DRILLED down into the canvas with a high angle STO!!

 

“POWER NITRO DRIVER!!!” Mark yells in amazement. “Tom’s head, neck, and shoulders took practically all of the impact there… and I’m not sure if he’s even alive at this point!”

 

The crowd bursts with cheers as Taylor pulls himself to his feet, and instead of going for the pin… he turns his head sharply towards the ring corner, directing his attention towards the turnbuckle!!

 

“Oh no… Flesher is positioned perfectly for an aerial move, and… my God, TNT is 266 pounds! He could kill a man with something as simple as a splash!!” Mark wonders just what the explosive one has in mind, as Bobby just whimpers.

 

Every single wrestling aficionado in the Pepsi Center is on the edge of his or her seat, as TNT rigidly strides over to the ring post… and – still facing the audience – begins to climb!!! Bullets of sweat drip down Taylor’s face, and he ascends the turnbuckle step by step, on the stairway to the Heaven that is the SWF World Title… before finally reaching the top!! Perched on the peak of the ring post, Taylor looks out at the crowd, his dreadlocks streaming down his face… and then, in one flowing motion, he stands up, and propels himself backward… flipping all the way over and falling all…

 

 

…the way…

 

 

…DOWN onto Flesher’s chest with a moonsault!!! The impact is like a block of cement landing on an ant, and the canvas visibly shakes from TNT’s collision as the crowd pops funky monkey on a stick!! Taylor almost bounces right off of Tom upon landing, but he quickly collects himself, scurrying on top of the World Champion and hooking his leg!

 

 

“THIS IS IT!!!” Mark calls the inevitable pin.

 

“Look! His feet are on the ropes! THAT CHEATER!!”

 

“No they’re not, Bobby! Taylor is about to beat Tom Flesher clean, one two three!!”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“ONE!!”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“TWO!!”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“THREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE—NO!!!!”

 

 

Brian Hebner abruptly stops his three-count as a certain Icelandic giant dives out of nowhere with a HUGE double axe-handle to break up the pin!!

 

“I heart YOU, Frost!! Now, Tom, kill them both!” Riley demands.

 

“Frost just stopped his partner from winning the SWF World Title, and TNT has got to be fuming!”

 

Frost rolls out to the ring apron before Brian Hebner even has to, and TNT lunges up to his feet, looking quite frustrated! The dynamite warrior stomps over to his ally, who has reached his feet on the apron, and immediately begins verbally blasting him for breaking up the pinfall. Frost remains calm however; informing Taylor that it was just business, and the longest reigning SJL Television Champion of all time exhales, cooling down himself. Muttering a quick “it’s cool” to Frost, Thompson turns around and goes to lay the smackdown on Tom, who lies perfectly still at the edge of the ring.

 

“I thought that there might be some tension between TNT and Frost after that, but their partnership, and even friendship, appears to be too strong for that, and these two have settled their differences before Tom even had a chance to recover.”

 

“What the hell is this!? Kick his ass TNT! He broke up your pin, dammit! FIGHT TO THE DEATH!!”

 

“…What the hell this is, is friendship, Bobby.”

 

“Wizzwha?”

 

Taylor forces Tom up off of the mat, but his weasely opponent is apparently still alive, as he lurches up to his feet with an uppercut shotei to TNT’s jaw!! Taylor staggers backward, but Flesher is unable to follow up, collapsing back down onto his hands and knees in exhaustion. A few bruises and cuts have formed on his face from those elbows that he took earlier, and mortal red invades Tom’s forehead like the plague, but TNT has no sympathy for the devil, dragging the Superior One up to his feet again, and locking on a hammerlock from behind!

 

“It looks like TNT’s going for the hammerlock suplex here… but no! Tom reverses with a few back elbows!”

 

“Thatta boy!”

 

Tom drives a few elbows into the side of Taylor’s head, but once again, he finds himself too fatigued to mount a proper comeback, and he crumples forward to the mat!! TNT is a bit irritated by now and his movements are much more unyielding than before as he jerks Flesher up to a vertical base a third time, and thrusts Tom’s head in between his legs to apply a standing headscissors! He doesn’t hook the arms as one might expect however, instead grabbing handfuls of Tom’s singlet, going for a scoop piledriver!

 

“And Tom reverses a third move, sending Thompson right over his head with a back body drop!!” Mark watches on as Taylor hits the mat with a loud “thud.”

 

“Now Tommy, the key is to NOT collapse, eh?” Bobby shares some words of advice.

 

Flesher stands groggily in the center of the ring, hardly able to stand up straight, but with a quick shake of the head he regains a clear state of mind, and turns around to face TNT. The former World Champion turns over onto his belly and pushes himself up, but Tom takes him back down to the mat right away by cinching on a front facelock and falling back for the DDT! Taylor goes utterly limp and remains on his frontside, as Flesher scurries over onto his back, and locks on a mounted dragon sleeper!!!!

 

“SUPERIOR STRETCH BETA!!!!!”

 

“He’s tapping!!”

 

”Not yet, but Tom is going for a desperately quick submission here… and he’s got that dragon sleeper cinched on TIGHT! TNT’s neck hasn’t even been worked over here, but considering the deadliness of the submission, he could very well tap anyway!!”

 

Thompson yelps out in pain and reaches forward, grabbing for ropes that aren’t there, but before he even has the chance to quit, Frost charges into the ring to break up the submission! Flesher is ready however, and he rises to a vertical base so that he can prevent the Velvet Hammer’s attack… taking the big man down with a drop toehold!! The crowd boos but that just gives Tom more drive as he positions himself on Frost’s back now, and… hooks on a dragon sleeper!!!!!

 

“And now Flesher has got the Superior Stretch Beta on FROST!!!!! Both members of Chilly Chilly Bang Bang are in the ring, and he’s somehow surviving on his own!”

 

“And hence, Tom equaling God.”

 

Frost barks out for assistance, and his cries for help are soon answered, as Taylor Thompson makes his way to his feet, bounces off the opposite ropes, and dives in to make the save with a Stone Cold-esque elbow drop… that’s landed right at the base of the Velvet Hammer’s neck!!

 

“Tom moved out of the way just in time, and TNT accidentally nails his partner on mistake! It’s absolute chaos in there, and Flesher is just barely squeaking his way out of everything that Frost and TNT have to throw at him!!”

 

“Sly as a fox and swift as a minx, in the ring, in the locker room, and in bed!”

 

“…What?”

 

Frost grasps the back of his neck with both of his hands, and rolls away from the action, as a flabbergasted Taylor leaps up to his feet… only to be caught right in the chest with a Yakuza kick, courtesy of Tom Flesher!!

 

*** SMACK ***

 

TNT drops to the mat like a sack of wet mice, and thinking that he’s caught the explosive one off guard, Flesher hurriedly crawls on top of him for the cover!!

 

 

“ONE!!”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“TWO!!”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“TH—NO!!”

 

 

Taylor’s shoulder elevates a mere fraction from the mat, cutting Tom’s victory short by just a second!! Flesher isn’t too surprised however, and he acts fast, moving up to his feet and brining TNT up with him! Frost slowly recuperates out on the ring apron while in the ring, Tom Flesher hooks Taylor Thompson in a front facelock, and lifts him vertical to the ground in one swift motion!! The crowd “ooh’s” and “ahh’s” as the Superior One keeps his opponent suspended in the air for a couple of seconds… and then, as if he was driving a spear down into the mat, he falls backwards, drilling TNT’s head right into the canvas with a nasty-looking brainbuster!!

 

“BRAINBUSTAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! And boy are TNT’s brains busted. Did you SEE the collision of his head hitting the ground??” Grand Slam asks, amazed at the sickening moves.

 

“Certainly did. That impact looked to have killed all of TNT’s brain cells! And by ‘all of TNT’s brain cells’ I of course mean ‘three atoms’ but you know, if he had more, they’d probably be dead too!”

 

Thompson lies on his back, his eyes glazed over from the damage that he’s taken tonight, and the zebra jumps down to count the pin as Flesher drapes an arm over the explosive one’s massive chest!!

 

 

“ONE!!”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“TWO!!”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“THRE—NO!!”

 

 

“TNT kicks out again, this time with a little less gusto than before!”

 

“But rest is for the weak, and my Superior One is already picking Taylor up for yet another move!! Go Tommy! We all know that you’re the only dynamite one here!” Bobby eggs on his hero.

 

The Superior One looks a bit flustered now, but he doesn’t slow down for a minute, nailing Taylor right under the jaw with a few shoteis to back him up into the ropes, and then launching him to the opposite side of the ring with an Irish-whip!! Taylor bounces off of the opposite ropes, but as he does, a large paw comes from behind and slaps him across the shoulder!!

 

*** SLAP ***

 

“Frost with the blind tag! The ref saw it, but I’m not sure that Taamo did!”

 

“Of course he did! Flesher has eyes like a chameleon! He knows what’s going on at all times!”

 

Frost is the legal man, but TNT keeps on hurdling forward… right into Tom, who catches him with a waistlock and hurls him right over his head with a railgun suplex!! Taylor hits the mat and skids to the edge of the ring, while the Superior One hops up to his feet, turning to face Taylor… and as a side effect getting BLASTED in the back of the head with a burning lariat from Frost!!! The crowd “ooh’s” at the sheer stiffness of the move, and Flesher is taken right off his feet, slamming down to the mat belly-first!

 

“Well, if he didn’t know that Frost was in the ring before, he certainly does now, because that Hell Freezes over just completely floored him faster than you can say ‘ouch! What a lariat’!!”

 

“Frost is lucky to have such good sellers like Tom Flesher taking his moves. Otherwise, he’d be revealed as the complete pussy that he is.”

 

Taylor rolls out of the ring and down to the floor to recover, while the towering figure of Frost reaches down to his arch nemesis, and grabs a paw-full of Tom’s singlet, yanking him up to his feet! Flesher wobbles back and forth, hardly able to tell what’s going on, but he’s suddenly snapped back into consciousness when Frost cinches one of his huge mitts around his throat with a chokehold!! The Superior One’s eyes go wide and he panics, squirming every which way in an attempt to escape Frost’s tight chokehold, but the behemoth keeps his hold on tight! Then, Frost makes the cutthroat sign with his unoccupied hand, causing the crowd’s buzz to reach its zenith, and he holds Tom’s back for support before lifting him high off the mat with a chokesla—but no!! Just as he’s about to go sky-high only to plummet back down to the mat, Flesher hits a desperation low blow! Frost’s entire body loosens up and stops working as Tom’s Doc Martin plunges into his little snowman, and he even releases his tenacious clutch on Flesher’s neck!!

 

“Low blow!! C’mon referee, get in there and disqualify the man!”

 

“If no one saw it, then it never happened Marky Mark!”

 

“But I saw it!”

 

“I’m sorry, I was referring to anyone that mattered.”

 

Frost doubles over slightly in testicular agony and his eyes nearly bulge right out of his skull, but he’s not able to stand still for long, as Tom grabs a hold of his wrist and whips him hard right into the nearest ring post!! The Iceman from Iceland turns and takes the impact on the turnbuckle in his back, but that only protects his front side for so long as his opponent charges in right after him, delivering a stiff running shotei! Frost’s head snaps back from the impact, and the crowd boos spitefully as Tom slips right between Frost and the turnbuckle, slowly climbing up to the second rope, and then sitting down on the top turnbuckle pad, a mile-wide grin painted on his face!!

 

“This is it!! The King’s Road continues!!” Bobby squeals delightfully.

 

“Tom hit that running shotei, and we all know where this is going… Tom is going to hit the EGO TRIP!!” Grand Slam foreshadows, as the crowd’s booing still hasn’t stopped, or even faltered.

 

Tom waves to all of his (hypothetical) fans, a broad smile piercing white through his otherwise bloodied face… before positioning a knee in the back of Frost’s neck, and launching himself away from the turnbuckle to the center of the ring!! Flashbulbs sizzle and illuminate the scene as Tom rides Frost’s face down into the mat; the result being quite the sickening impact!!

 

“EGO TRIP!!!! TOM HITS THE EGO TRIP!!! THIS MATCH IS OVER!!”

 

“Hold me back Marky Mark! I have the sudden urge to rush the ring and hug Tommy before he even makes the pin!!”

 

The crowd boos furiously, as Tom slooooowly turns Frost over onto his back, and – utterly spent – collapses over him for the academic pin. Taylor lies on the outside, dazed and confused, and there’s no one to save Frost from an inevitable loss…

 

 

“ONE!!”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Tom got the upper hand on Frost thanks to a cheap low blow, and that very well could have been the turning point of this match!”

 

“TWO!!”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

No one to save Frost from an inevitable loss… except for Frost himself…

 

 

 

 

“THREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE—NO!!!!!! KICKOUT!!!!!”

 

 

“FROST JUST KICKED OUT OF THE EGO TRIP!!”

 

“IMPOSSIBLE! NO! GAH, FUCK YOU YOU STUPID FUCKING SNOWMAN!”

 

Frost lazily lifts an arm off of the canvas, garnering the loudest pop of the night!!!! The Superior One only explodes with anger however, springing up to his feet with a beet red color invading his face, and flames forming within his eyes! The crowd is blocked out; the announcers are blocked out; TNT is blocked out; even the referee is blocked out, as Tom blindly yanks Frost up to his feet and slaps him straight across the face!! The Velvet Hammer goes staggering back into the turnbuckle, and upon catching up to him, Tom quickly hooks on a front facelock, something unfathomably devious in mind. The crowd already knows what’s coming, and they start to boo in advance as a livid and perturbed Tom Flesher lifts Frost up into the air, and sets him down on the top turnbuckle!

 

“He’s… he’s going for the Boilmaker!!” Mark says, praying for Frost to find some way of escape. “Frost kicked out of the Ego Trip, and Flesher is going for his stronger and yet harder to pull off finisher now, which has only been kicked out of once!”

 

“Oh God, just ring the bell ahead of time. This sucker is over, baby! Orgy at my place!” Riley announces.

 

“I don’t think you have too many female friends that would want to go to an orgy Bobby…”

 

“That’s the point!”

 

Frost sits unsteadily on the top turnbuckle as Tom steps up to the second one, trying to get eye level with Frost. He stands the Velvet Hammer up straight, and as soon as he feels that he’s balanced enough to go all the way, Flesher helps Frost up to the very top of the ring post, following suit just a second later, the front facelock still applied!

 

“Frost and Tom are both on the top turnbuckle now… and all Flesher has to do now is lift Frost up and fall back, and he’s got this match in a bag!!”

 

“He’s ALREADY got this match in a bag, fool!”

 

The crowd’s boos turn to cheers as it becomes apparent that Bobby jinxed it, and Frost uses his free hand to deliver a stinging uppercut to Taamo’s jaw!! The Superior One releases his front facelock on the big man and teeters back, but Frost grabs him around the throat with both hands, ensuring that he doesn’t fall.

 

“…Oh dammit, I called it too soon! But Frost just saved Tommy from falling! Hah, what a dunce!”

 

“…Oh no… Frost didn’t save him Bobby… he’s… he’s going for…”

 

“A ‘set lightly down on back’ maneuver!?”

 

“No… THE TFDB!!!!!!!!!”

 

“…Aw fuck! …uh, what’s that?”

 

“Frost had promised to use the TFDB here at Battleground, and now he’s fulfilling his promises! ‘Tom Flesher Is A Douche Bag’ is in full effect!”

 

Riley gasps. “He is NOT!! Take that back!”

 

“No, that’s the name of the move! ‘Tom Flesher is a Douche Bag’!!”

 

“Well, that’s just rude.”

 

Tom’s face turns a shade of blue as Frost lifts him into the air with both of his hands, and then… as thousands of camera flashes bombard the ring, Frost leaps off of the top rope with Tom in tow, spinning around in midair and CRUSHING the World Champion down into the mat with a double-handed chokeslam!!

 

“A spinning double-handed chokeslam and Tom is DEAD!!”

 

“But TNT’s there to break up the pin!!” Riley calls out, pointing over to a woozy Taylor Thompson who has just reached his feet on the outskirts of the ring.

 

Frost rolls over onto his back, his chest heaving up and down with each breath that he takes. Blood flows from his ear and he’s completely exhausted, but with just one last piece of business to take care of, the Velvet Hammer rolls over onto the carcass of Tom Flesher, and reaches over to hook both of his legs. The Superior World Champion is utterly motionless and unresponsive, and the pinfall seems relatively academic as the zebra drops to the mat and makes the count, the crowd chanting along…

 

“That was… AMAZING!! Frost almost caused the ring to cave in with the impact of that move, and now he’s just three seconds away from becoming our NEW Smarks Wrestling Federation Heavyweight Champion of the WORLD!”

 

“TNT!! JUDGE! EJIRO! XERO!! ANYONE! STOOOOOOP HIIIIIIIIIM!!!!!!!!” Bobby hopes aloud.

 

 

“ONE!!”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TNT hears the count being made, and in the blink of an eye, he hops up onto the ring apron, wanting to break the pin up… but suddenly a figure can be seen bursting through the crowd and hopping the ring barrier!!

 

 

 

 

 

“TWO!!”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“What the hell!? Who’s that??”

 

Taylor starts to step into the ring, but before he gets a chance, the figure grabs a hold of his leg, and pulls him right off of the apron!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“THREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

 

 

*** DING DING DING ***

 

“Snowblind presumably starts up, but one can’t be sure, as all that can be heard is the ear-splitting cheers of the live audience!!!! Frost crawls up to his feet and the referee raises his arm up in victory, a heartfelt and proud expression cemented on the Iceman from Iceland’s face, as Funyon makes it official…

 

“Ladies and gentlemen… the winner of this bout via pinfall and the NEW (the fans blow the roof straight off the Pepsi Center with the loudest cheers in the west!!) SWF HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPION OF THE WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORLD… FROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOSSSSSSSSSST!!!!!!!!!!”

 

“He’s done it!! He’s done it!! Frost is the Champ!! The new WORLD CHAMPION!!!!!!!!”

 

All that can be heard over Bobby’s headset is the banging of his head on the commentary table, and a hushed moan every few seconds. Referee Brian Hebner receives the World Title from a ring attendant and begins to strap it around Frost’s waist, but Frost’s attention is caught by something else – the action on the outside!! Taylor is irate, and when he spins around to face the man who pulled him off of the ring apron… he only becomes MORE furious!!

 

“That’s… that’s Tod deKindes!!” Mark yells. “Tod deKindes stopped TNT from breaking up Frost’s pinfall, and cost him his chance at winning the World Title in the process!”

 

“…But what’s the deal with him and Taylor!?”

 

“Well, I’m not sure about that, but I AM sure about what Tod has to do – run!!”

 

And just as Mark implied, deKindes, upon seeing the look on TNT’s face, hightails it right out of the ringside area, or out of the entire arena for all we know, with the explosive one in hot pursuit!! The two disappear behind the ring curtain as Frost looks on from the squared circle, an almost intrigued gleam in his eyes. But then, something else – something much more important at the moment – catches his attention. Frost gazes down at the World Title – HIS World Title – str

Edited May 5, 2003 by realitycheck

[Guest Kibagami]

As per Johnny's request...

 

There are a lot of positives in this match. For one, you and WC have an excellent rapport together as a team. I honestly cannot tell where one man's writing ends and the next begins. Whether that's due to meticulous editing or natural chemistry, I'm extremely impressed with it nonetheless. The characterizations of each team are near-flawless; too flawless at times, but I'll get to that later. The spots were fantastic, as they should be in a Wildchild match. As with Justice and Rule's match, I am something approaching awed by how well you guys keep track of everyone from spot to spot and make sure all three teams are constantly accounted for. Perhaps it's just because gimmick matches have always been a weakness of mine, but I find it impressive that you managed to do this nonetheless.

 

Now then, onto the flaws. J & R's transitions were a little better, and at times slightly more creative. Their comedy relief was much more believeable than yours, especially the Deja Vu sequence where they play peaknuckle for the belts. While you can certainly argue that it fits their characters, it also tested the suspension of belief a little much for my taste, so I can see where you lost some points there.

 

The other major criticism I have is a hard one for me to voice, because on the one hand, I understand the story you were trying to tell with Johnny as the weak link who redeems himself at the end of the match. Truly, I can dig that, but I think you hit the reader over the head with it a little too often for your own good. The exhausted partner who wins for his team in the end is an overused device, really, and unless you're an Edwin or a Flesher, you're not going to be able to make it fresh enough to grab people's attention. If you had downplayed it more in the opening commentary and perhaps kept Johnny's hope spots to a minimum, I think you would've done much better, because the ending was extremely well done. The story itself was a good idea, but the execution seemed a little lacking. Not by much, but obviously enough. Overall, a very solid match that suits all the participants well. Hopefully, you'll both take heart at this; there's no shame in losing to Ejiro and the Judge right now, and it seems to me that you two were very close indeed.

 

K.

[Secret Agent 0]

Thanks for the comments, Silent. I debated hard with WC over that PeKnuckle spot being too over the top or not, but in the end he let me do it. ::hides from WC now:: I'm just glad I didn't go as far as orginally planned, which was for them to link up with some Gameboys and duke it out in FPW2.

 

I'm glad the ending seemed to work good, as I was trying to bring back some of the flavor that worked so well for me in the JL, which were the endings. J&R's match rocks the body that rocks the party so I feel no shame in losing. We'll get them though.

[Atlas 0]

“Welcome to Battleground!” announces the energized voice of Mark Stevens as the camera pans around the crowd inside a sold out Pepsi Center. “Coming to you live from Denver, Colorado!”

 

People of all ages cheer and hold up signs like “Neilsen fears the King!” and “Flesher Sucks!” while the beats of Mudvayne’s “Not Falling” blast throughout the arena. Finally the camera slows down and settles on the entranceway, showing the AH-64 Helicopter crashing above it, A-10 Warthogs, and an M-1 Abrams Tank decorating the sides.

 

“The stage is set, and the battle lines are drawn up here in Denver as the Battleground prepares to see its first battle!” yells Grand Slam.

 

“We’ll be seeing seven encounters tonight,” says Riley “among them a fight inside a steel cage, a huge battle with using tables ladders and chairs as artillery, and topping it off is an enormous encounter for the world title, where our World Champion may have to fight on two fronts to defend his title.”

 

“But coming up first is a match between two former SJL World Champions,” Stevens notes “The High Priest of Horrorcore, Dace Night and the man that defeated him twice before, Sean Atlas.”

 

 

Cutting the commentary off are the drums and guitar riffs of “Fuel for Hatred” by Satyricon blast into the Pepsi Center. The house lights fade down while a bust of black pyro goes off onstage, followed by red and purple overhead lights illuminating the ramp. The of Horrorcore himself, Dace Night, emerges from behind the curtain and walks out onto the stage, then continues down the ramp.

 

 

“The following match is set for one fall, and is for number one contendership to either the Hardcore Gamers title, or the United States Title. Introducing first, making his way to the ring, from Birmingham, England, weighing in at 254 pounds, to receive number one contendership to the Hardcore Gamers Title if victorious...... DAAAAACCCCEE NIGHT!”

 

 

Funyon’s announcement ends just as Dace climbs into the ring. He leans on the ropes and raises the Rock Horns sign into the air, eliciting a mild cheer from the fans. He takes off the Inverted Crucifix necklace and stretches for a bit, showing off his new “Unholy trinity” T-shirt.

 

 

“You know Bobby, this new group could cause some huge changes in the Federation.” Mark notes.

 

“Come on, there’s only three of them, and one is still a leaguer.” Riley replies “Until I see something impressive from them, I’m not convinced of anything.”

 

 

The house lights start to return to normal while “Fuel for Hatred” fades out. However, they quickly go back to darkness just as the notes to "Heaven's a Lie" by Lacuna Coil chime in. A white light shines through the grating on the ramp, illuminating the set above. In the middle of the stage, a door opens up, allowing in even more light. As the soft notes play on, a large structure rises through the hole from beneath the stage - it seems to be a cross with a man hanging from it. His feet are supported, however, and as the cross ascends, it becomes clear that this is Sean Atlas.

 

As the soft notes come to an end, just before the drums kick in, the bottom of the cross stops just a foot above the stage's surface... a gradually louder electric guitar brings the start of the song to a climax, and then...

 

 

!*BOOM*!

 

 

A colossal explosion goes off onstage and on the cross, the clasps at Atlas' wrists and feet are released. He instantly jumps off, as if to symbolically avoid the crucifixion and lands on the stage. To the heavier part of the song, Sean Atlas walks down the ramp, staring out into the crowd with confidence while the fans show their apathy toward him. Introducing the masked man to them for the first time is Funyon:

 

“And his opponent, currently making his way to the ring, from Chicago, Illinois, weighing in at 240 pounds, to receive number one contendership to the United States Title if victorious...... SEEEEAAAANNNN ATLAS!”

 

Sean makes it down to the base of the ramp, showboating the entire time. He looks at Dace Night through the ropes as he walks around the ring to the steps on the commentary side. He slowly walks up, onto the apron and steps through the ropes. Referee Anthony Michael Hall, assigned to the match for his familiarity with the participants, separates the two as they prepare for the start of the bout.

 

 

“These two men have quite a history, facing each other in two Junior League matches, both of which were incredibly violent.” Informs Grand Slam “The second bout actually forced Sean Atlas to stitch up his mask, which he has since retired and replaced with a brand new one.”

 

“Since when are you so up to date on Junior League matters?” asks Riley. “You’re making such a big deal out of the ‘storied’ history between them.”

 

“Unlike you, I actually have other duties here.” Mark retorts “And it’s not my fault that Dace and Atlas held two more SJL titles than you have Mr. Lost-The-First-SJL-Championship-Match.”

 

“...Bitch. Cheap shot...”

 

 

*DING, DING*

 

“And with that, the first battle is on!”

 

The two grapplers lunge at each other just as the bell sounds, locking in a collar-and-elbow tie-up. They briefly struggle until Dace, the larger of the two, gets a decisive advantage and forces Sean to back up. Pushing him all the way to the ropes, Dace gets out of the tie-up and takes Sean’s arm. Leaning him against the ropes, Dace whips Atlas across to the other side. He bounces off and runs back...

 

Dace with a lariat! But Atlas ducks it, running under the arm and to the other ropes. He comes off just as Dace turns around... and knocks Horrorcore down with a Shoulderblock! Atlas runs towards the near ropes while Dace remains on the mat. He springs off and comes back, forcing Dace to flatten himself on the mat while Sean jumps over him. He bounces off the opposite ropes while Dace stands up and prepares for Sean to come back...

 

But Atlas slides down, slithering under his opponent’s legs and turning around behind him, grabs his feet and pulls them back to drop Night to the mat! Dace quickly gets back up after the rear leg takedown, but finds himself losing balance as Sean Atlas rolls him up with an Inside Cradle.....!

 

 

...ONE...

 

 

 

 

...TWO..

 

NO! Dace quickly kicks out, rolling out of the cover.

 

 

“Fast paced action to start the match off, Bobby.” says an observant Mark Stevens.

 

“I’m liking this Atlas character.” states Riley. “Slick and swift, and he seems to know his opponent pretty well.”

 

 

Both men come to their feet and Atlas goes on the attack, continuing the speedy action by sending Dace to the corner with an Irish Whip. He rams into it with his back as Sean darts towards him, lifting his arm for a back elbow... But Dace moves out of the way, forcing Atlas to collide with the pads with his back...

 

*Smack* ‘Whooo!’

 

 

“Dace Night, sending sharp, knife edges chops into the chest of Sean Atlas!” notes Stevens.

 

*Smack* ‘Whooo!’

 

*Smack* ‘Whooo!’

 

*Smack* ‘Whooo!’

 

*SMACK* ‘WHOOO!’

 

 

Dace finally lets up and takes the red-chested Atlas by the hand. He steps back and tugs on it to send him to the opposite corner... but Atlas holds on and reverses, shooting Night off to another set of pads. He collides into them chest-first and recoils, taking several steps back. But he quickly finds himself in a rear-waistlock, and before he knows it, Sean Atlas gets him in the air, and SLAMS him into the canvas with a Release German Suplex!

 

 

“Powerful Belly to Back Release by Sean Atlas, who has dominated thus far.” Stevens says.

 

“You say he beat this Dace guy twice already?” asks Bobby. “I’m not surprised.”

 

 

Atlas stands up, walking over to a half-standing Dace night. He takes him by the arm and gets him standing. He pulls back and Irish whips him towards the side, but as he so often does, Sean holds on, snapping Dace back to him. He instantly wraps his arms around the High Priest of Horrorcore and locks them in, then pops his hips and flips Dace over with an Overhead Belly-to-Belly Suplex!

 

 

“Another Suplex from the masked man, Riley.” says Mark.

 

“I’m right here, buddy, I can see that.” Bobby retorts.

 

“Just doing my job.”

 

 

Sean quickly gets to standing and walks up behind Dace, who doesn’t get up quite as fast as last time. Once he does though, Sean stands to his side and locks his leg between Dace’s. Extending his arm behind Night’s back, Atlas latches on to the far shoulder and falls back, taking Dace down with him! Right away, he hooks the leg as Hall drops down to make the count...

 

 

...ONE....

 

 

 

...TWO...

 

 

NO! Dace kicks out again, getting the shoulder up.

 

 

“I’m guessing this Horrorcore guy is a pretty resilient bastard, eh?” asks Bobby Riley.

 

“Indeed he is. It takes a lot to win a match against him on your own.” Answers Stevens. “Though if anyone, Sean over there knows how to do it.”

 

 

Atlas gets back to his feet, pulling Dace up with him. Whilst sending punches and forearms to his face, Sean backs Dace into the ropes. Pushing off, Atlas launches him across the ring into the far ropes. Night bounces and returns to a doubled over Atlas, looking to hook Dace around the waist. He quickly stops and sends a swift kick to Sean’s chest, knocking him onto his back.

 

 

“Oh, small mistake, buddy.” notes Riley.

 

 

Sean rolls over and gets to his feet, but Dace already has him by the neck and after taking a running start, turns over and slams Sean down with a Neckbreaker. He stands up, pulling Atlas up with him and slides on a Front Face Lock. Dace tries to lift Atlas up for a Suplex, but Sean resists, forcing Dace to drop Atlas down onto the mat, face-first, with the Front Face Locked in place.

 

 

“Is that guy working on a submission now?” asks Riley.

 

“Looks like it.” Mark answers. “Following up on the Neckbreaker, it seems as though the man they call Horrorcore is working solely on Sean’s neck.

 

“Dumbass. We want to see some action!”

 

 

And action they shall see as Sean Atlas, momentum still in him, tries to overpower the larger Dace Night. Despite the Referee’s presence to his side and Dace’s constant badgering of him to call the submission, Sean manages to slither out of the lock rather quickly, backing up and getting to his feet as he does so.

 

Dace, meanwhile jumps right off the ground and goes after Atlas, leveling him back to the canvas with a Clothesline! Sean pops up again, then turns around and meets an Elbow Smash from Dace Night! Another one... and then one more sends him back into the ropes. Dace pushed against his chest and uses the ropes to whips Sean across to the other side... Atlas hits the ropes, but didn’t realize that Dace followed and as soon as he turns around...

 

 

*CRACK*

 

 

“Dace Night just LEVELED Sean Atlas with a Zakuza Kick!” yells an excited Mark Stevens. “And the crowd responds!”

 

 

Dace quickly dives down to pin Atlas’ shoulders to the mat...

 

 

...ONE...

 

 

 

 

...TWO...

 

 

..NO! Sean Atlas kicks out of the cover, rolling over to his side to get a shoulder up.

 

He shakes his head from side to side, getting himself back together after the stiff Yakuza Kick from Night. He’s soon pulls up to a stands however, as Dace continues the assault. He locks on a Front Face Lock again, this time lifting Sean into the air and snapping him back down with a Snap Suplex.

 

Face lock in place, Dace gets himself standing and as a result brings Sean up as well. Before Atlas even plants his feet, Dace lifts him high into the air, then slams him down, hitting a slightly slower Suplex on the masked opponent. Still keeping the facelock on, Dace stands Atlas and himself up a third time. His snaps his hips and lifts again, this time trying a delayed vertical Suplex....

 

But he can’t keep holding as Sean powers his way back down to his own feet, and using the momentum swings Dace up into the air and down with a Snap Suplex of his own!

 

 

“Great job by Sean Atlas, picking up on Dace Night’s strategy of multiple Suplexes.” says Stevens.

 

“The strategy wasn’t that complicated, Mark.” Bobby replies. “Longer Suplexes each time. Whoopie.”

 

 

Atlas gets to his feet, but Dace is on pace with him and stands right when Sean does. Dace takes a swing, but Atlas ducks and slides his leg behind Dace while keeping an arm on his chest, then pushes him down with an STO! Atlas bends down to Dace’s legs and grabs one, straightening it up. He backs up and kicks Kaine in the back of the knee! Still holding his leg, he kicks it some more, from the side and the bottom too.

 

 

Atlas drops the leg and lifts the other one up, but gets some resistance from Dace, who pulls him closer, then kicks him away! Atlas stumbles back but keeps his balance while Dace stands up. Sean quickly takes his arm and sends him running towards the ropes, where Dace bounces and prepares to defend himself against Sean’s waiting arms...

 

But isn’t fast enough as Atlas sweeps his feet out from under him, slamming Dace Night down with a Spinebuster! Sean instantly back up and runs towards the ropes closest to Dace’s feet. He bounces off and heads for his downed opponent, then bends down to scoop up Dace’s legs and flips over, his own feet landing on the canvas just to the side of Dace’s face!

 

 

“Jackknife hold by Sean Atlas!” yells Mark Stevens. “A unique pinning predicament for him as Referee Hall makes the count...”

 

 

...ONE...

 

 

 

 

 

...TWO...

 

 

 

 

 

 

...NO!! Dace manages to get one of his legs out of Sean’s grip, escaping the hold and makes it easier to lift a shoulder. Sean rolls over and stands up, his anger clearly growing. He lifts Dace up to his feet and stands behind him locking on a Half Nelson. He locks Dace’s other arm in a Chickenwing, then bends backwards and carries Dace over his head, flipping him on the way, and DRIVING him face-first into the canvas!!!

 

 

“What the hell was that?” asks Riley.

 

“I believe it’s called the Tequila Sunrise.” Mark replies. “The technical term though is a Belly-to-Back Half-Nelson Chickenwing Suplex.”

 

“Tequila Sunrise it is.”

 

 

Dace straightens his arms out, lifting his head off the mat and shakes it, trying to gather himself. Atlas is back on him though, getting him to stand. He wraps his arms around Dace in a waistlock to attempt a Northern Loght Suplex... but Dace reads it manages to avoid it, gut wrenching Atlas onto his shoulders instead! He then bends down to one knee and slides Sean forward, hitting a...

 

 

“Backbreaker!” yells an enthusiastic Mark Stevens. “He gutwrenched out of the waistlock, then brought Sean Atlas down across his knee with a backbreaker. Great strategy by Dace Night.”

 

 

Dace lifts Sean off the mat. Locking his own arms around Sean’s body, Dace slides around and gets behind Atlas, belly-to-back. He pops his hips and lifts, trying a German Suplex... and he can’t do it as Sean struggles down, causing Dace to swing him back. Using the momentum and still holding on to Dace’s arm Atlas slides, feet first, under Dace and once there, grabs onto Dace’s other arm to lock in a Half Nelson! He lifts the champion off his feet and prepares to slam him down with a Stretch Suplex until...

 

Dace escapes! He manages to pull one arm out of Sean’s grip and avoid the move. Swinging around behind him once again, Dace locks on a Half Nelson of his own, until Atlas spins out of it and faces him. Extremely alert, Dace lifts his knee and strikes Atlas’ gut with it once again. He puts on a front face lock and lifts Sean off his feet, vertically into the air...

 

And brings him down with a Sheer Drop Brainbuster!!! The fans pop for it as Atlas’ back comes down to the mat to join his head, meanwhile Dace floats over to make the cover...

 

 

...ONE...

 

 

 

 

...TWO...

 

 

 

 

 

...TH.. NO! Atlas gets his shoulder up, despite the rapidly growing pain in his neck.

 

 

“Looks like Dace is focused on getting that neck to snap, Grand Slam.” Riley says.

 

“I don’t think so, Bobby. He’s a vicious competitor, but he’s just working on the neck because his finishing moves attack it as well.” Mark replies as Dace brings Atlas to his feet.

 

 

Taking Sean by the neck, Dace walks him over to the corner. Clutching onto the leather of his mask on the back of his head, Dace takes Sean and SLAMS his head into the top turnbuckle! He pull sit back... and does it again!

 

“Two!”

 

Taking Atlas a third time, he pushes him forward and slams his head against the top turnbuckle once more!

 

“Three!”

 

Again!

 

“Four!”

 

AGAIN!

 

“Five!”

 

Dace tries it a sixth time...

 

“Six!”

 

But the crowd is wrong on that one, as Sean elbows Night in the gut, avoiding another collision with the turnbuckle pad. He Lifts Dace’s arm and wraps it around his neck, tying up Horrorcore with his own limb. Atlas then turns around, back to back with Dace and balls back, going for the Immaculate Neckbreaker...!

 

And he slams himself into the mat but not Dace! Dace spun back around and out of the grip of his own arm, causing Sean to do nothing but drop himself to the canvas! He drags Atlas out near the middle of the ring while he tries to get to his feet, which Dace then helps with. He steps to Sean’s side and hooks the leg while spreading his arm across Atlas’ body, then he lifts and drops Atlas down with a Backdrop Suplex in the center of the ring!

 

 

“Small mistake by Atlas turns into Dace’s advantage.” Mark notes.

 

“You know, I’m still not convinced that this Atlas guy is any good. How did he beat Dace twice?” Riley asks.

 

“Hardcore stuff, my friend.” says Stevens. “Hardcore stuff.”

 

 

Dace lifts Sean off the mat again and up to his feet. He scoops him up, lifting him onto his shoulder and walks around, watching the crowd as they see this masked man get manhandled by Dace Night... and then Dace leans forward, flipping Atlas over and SLAMS him down with Powerslam! The fans give him one of the louder reactions so far, as Dace leans in for the cover...

 

But meets nothing but Sean’s forearm!

 

 

“Ohh, Atlas got Dace in the nose before he can cover. Good move, buddy.” Riley says.

 

 

Sean begins to stand up, but he obviously angered his opponent, hi take shim by the head while he’s still down on one knee and wraps it with his arm. Dace takes one step forward, then falls back, sweeping his own feet out and dropping Atlas down towards the surface of the ring with a DDT!!!!

 

 

“DDT by Dace Night!” yells Stevens. “He goes for the pin, this time with no cheap shots from Sean...”

 

 

 

...ONE....

 

 

 

 

...TWO...

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

...THHRR...NO!!! Atlas gets his shoulder up just before Hall’s arm came down a third time, then grabs his neck which is quickly becoming incredibly vulnerable.

 

Dace comes to his feet, frustration building up inside of him. He gets gets the slightly woozy Sean Atlas to stands and taking his arm, whips him to the ropes. Atlas runs, bounces and comes back, watching as Dace Night’s leg rises towards him... And he catches it! Atlas grabs on to Dace’s leg and quickly swings around to put on a facelock. Lifting him high in the air, Atlas SLAMS him down, hitting the Leg Capture Suplex!!

 

 

“Great read of Dace’s offence by Sean.” says Riley.

 

 

Atlas comes to his feet, standing up before Dace does. He takes him by the arm and steps around him to the back. Butting on a Full Nelson, Atlas slides his foot between dace’s legs and sweeps them out, then leans forward to drop Dace Night’s fact to the mat with a Forward Full Nelson Russian Leg Sweep! The crowd actually cheers him for this as he slides his hands down to Dace’s waist and locks them in. He leans back, working quickly so as to not give Dace a chance, and lifts him up, over and back down with...

 

 

“A Wheelbarrow Suplex by Sean Atlas!” yells Mark.

 

“Great combination by the masked man.” Bobby Riley claims.

 

 

Rolling over onto his stomach, Dace slowly begins to stand up. He gets to one knee when Atlas come sup to his side and extends Dace’s arm out. Sean steps over it, his back to Dace’s shoulder with Night’s arm between his legs. Holding it firmly, Atlas flips forward, driving the back of his knees into Dace’s chest, carrying him over onto his back with the Stepover Leg Drop!!!

 

 

“What a move by Atlas as he flips Dace Night over with that amazing maneuver!” says Mark. “And he keeps his legs on him for the cover!”

 

 

 

...ONE....

 

 

 

 

 

 

...TWO....

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

...TTTHRRRRNNNNNOOOOO!!!!! Dace Night kicks out with just a bit of time left!

 

 

“Resilient bastard, isn’t he?” asks Riley.

 

“Sure is.” Mark replies.

 

 

Atlas rage is growing, He stands up and returns to his original strategy. Getting Dace to stand, he take shim by the arm and launches him into the ropes. Night bounces off and heads back to Sean Atlas, who simply stands there waiting. Dace immediately gets a leg into the air, going for Yakuza Kick yet again...!

 

And Atlas catches it, falls onto his back, wrapping the leg and knocking Dace down with a Dragon Screw Legwhip! He instantly comes to his feet, placing his leg between Dace’s and to the side. Crossing Dace’s legs around him, Atlas grabs on to his boots and flips him over, confirming some suspicious as to why he was attacking the legs by locking in the SHARPSHOOTER!!

 

 

“Sharpshooter by Sean Atlas!” yells Bobby Riley.

 

“This is the move that Sean lost to in his last SJL match!” Mark Stevens informs. “I guess he found it to be useful.”

 

 

Atlas pulls back, yelling as he does so... Dace, surprised that Sean will pull this out elevates himself off the canvas, trying to fight back... The fans grow louder as they wonder whether Dace will go for the ropes, escape the move or actually tap... Referee Anthony Michael Hall dives down to Dace, asking whether or not He wants to quit.... Dace denies any such thought and forces him to move out of the way, allowing him to see the ropes...

 

 

“You think Dace’ll make it here, Mark?” Riley asks.

 

“I sure hope so. This contest doesn’t feel like it’s over yet...”

 

 

Dace crawls on forward on his hands, his legs elevated by Atlas... the crowd is split between the two of them, many cheering Dace on to get to the ropes while the others hope Sean Atlas can hold out... Neither side is definitive enough though, as Dace claws his way along the match coming closer and closer to the ropes....

 

 

“Almost there, man, come on...” Mark says...

 

 

Dace inches closer while Sean yells, trying to fight it but is forced to step back with him... He can feel himself losing the force on Dace, meanwhile his own neck and back are in some pain from earlier on... Finally, Atlas hears the crowd roar as referee Hall stands up and asks him to drop the hold. Turning around, he notices that Dace’s hand is firmly latching on to the bottom rope... Reluctantly, he lets it go.

 

 

“He did it! Dace Night looks like he’s about to get the upper hand here, after avoiding a painful loss to the Sharpshooter.” Notes Mark Stevens.

 

“I would think that Sean Atlas will try to prevent that, Grand Slam.” Riley replies.

 

 

Indeed, Atlas is right back on him, lifting Dace away from the rope and to his feet. Pushing back against the rubber, Atlas uses the ropes to launch Dace across the ring with an Irish whip. Dace bounces off the ropes and comes back to Sean, lowering his shoulder to go for a double leg takedown...

 

But Atlas avoids it, pushing the already winded Dace Night down to the mat. He picks him up and whips him again, but this time, Dace reverses, desperately getting Atlas to run off to the ropes. Sean bounces and comes back, leaping into the air with a Thesz Press....!!

 

And Dace ducks down, causing him to land on the flat canvas! Atlas stands up, but he meets nothing but the waiting arms of Dace Night as he scoops him up onto his shoulder, then lets him slide forward a bit...

 

 

“If he going for a...” Mark starts...

 

 

Dace falls down to his knees while Sean slides down and out of nowhere, he DRVIES Atlas’ head into the mat with a Tombstone Piledriver!

 

 

“HE IS! Tombstone from Dace Night!” yells Riley.

 

“But why isn’t he covering?”

 

 

Resting a bit, Dace catches his breath while Sean Atlas holds his neck. He is soon lifted up by Dace though, and is given less time to recover than he’d like. Adrenaline rushing through his veins, Dace lifts his leg and sends it flying into the gut of Sean Atlas, causing him to double over. Quickly, he grabs onto Sean’s arms catching them both in a Double Underhook, then lifts Atlas off his feet....

 

 

“This is the Defenstration, Riley! It could be over for Sean Atlas right now!

 

 

...But he can’t bring him back down! Atlas gets one arm free and slides around, ducking under and around Dace to slide up behind him, back to back. Somehow, even after the Tombstone, he gets his own extended arms under Dace’s lifting him up slightly off his feet in a Crucifix position...

 

 

“And according to your papers, this would the the Angel’s Punishment!” Riley calls.

 

 

Atlas takes a slight run foreward, then ducks lower to flip Dace over for the final part of the move – a DDT – but he does too far! Dace manages to escape and land on his feet, having experienced the move before! He lowers his shoulder and drives it into the gut of Sean Atlas, forcing him back all the way into the corner. He grabs Sean’s head, spiking it into his knee and getting Atlas to double over. Then leaning in, Dace lifts Atlas onto his shoulders in a Torture Rack, getting the fans to the heigh of their excitement...

 

 

“No... Not the Psycho Driver... I know it’s Pay Per View but...” Mark says, cocerningly.

 

“What’s the Psycho Driver?” Riley asks, taking Mark’s notes again. “.....Ohhhh.”

 

 

The fans come to their feet as Dace shifts Atlas around on his shoulders, preparing to shift him over into a Piledriver position... but as he starts to move him, Atlas slides the over way, coming down feet-first instead! He quickly gets his balance and hooks Dace’s leg, then his neck, and finally lifts him up in the same position that Dace just had him in!

 

 

“Sean Atlas escapes the Psycho Driver and prepares to hit his own finisher, the SAINT’S DEMISE!!” yells Grand Slam.

 

“A DVD?” Riles asks.

 

“Yes!”

 

 

Atlas turns around, as he so often does before executing the move, watching the fans cheer him on, not knowing any better since they aren’t incredibly familiar with him yet. He starts the mtion, leaving his feet to execute the Jumping DVD...

 

...

 

 

But Dace escapes it! Avoiding another of Sean Atlas finishing maneuvers, Dace slid out from behind just as Atlas jumped up! Standing behind Sean, Dace uses the element of surprise to his advantage. The noise from the crowd becoming deafening, he turns around and with his back to Atlas, backs up to swipe his feet out from under him and cause Sean to fall backwards, right onto his shoulder. Dace quickly grabs him and tries to hold on, snakily setting up the DARK STAR DRIVER!!!

 

 

“DSD! Dark Star Driver from Dace Night is being set up, without the Gutwrench!”

 

 

He tries to balance Atlas, hoping that the sneaky setup surprised him enough to catch him off guard. Once satisfied, Dace leans forward and bends down, using the move to end all moves – a totally vertical Powerbomb to finish Sean Atlas off....

 

 

.

 

 

..

 

 

...

 

 

 

Yet Atlas escapes once again! Dace just didn’t have a good enough grip on him to hit the move, and Sean unclasped Night’s hands to slide out!

 

 

 

“Every finisher has been tried dammit, come on guys finish this thing up!” yells Riley.

 

“Not every finisher, Bobby.” Mark retorts...

 

 

Indeed, Sean Atlas still has a trick in the bag. He quickly turns around before Dace does and latches on to his head, wrapping an arm around it. He then slides his other arm under Dace’s and hooks it near the shoulder. As the few fans who haven’t yet come to their feet do so, Atlas firmly locks both of his arms in place, putting the High Priest of Horrocore in the Katahajime Choke!!!!”

 

 

“KATAHAJIME! Sean Atlas’ signature submission finisher!” Mark yells.

 

“Ironic, since it was Dace that was working on the neck this whole time.” Riley replies.

 

“True,” Mark says. “but the Sharpshooter didn’t work out for him earlier, and this has finished Dace off once before, why not again? Just look at this crowd! Atlas wasn’t a fan favorite in the Junior League, but many fans here don’t know him and they’re cheering for this!”

 

“Dumbasses.”

 

 

Atlas continues to hold the move in place as Anthony Michael Hall walks over to ask Dace about quitting... Night holds back though, refusing to give up at any cost... He flails his arms wildly, reaching behind him to grab Atlas head... It’s no use though, as Sean avoids his arms, not willing to have Dace escape this finisher... Dace begins to yell as he reaches forward instead, hoping to get to a rope...

 

He pushes referee Hall out of the way inadvertently, stumbling towards the nearest top rope while dragging Atlas behind him... But Sean refuses to let him go and just as Dace gets to the safety of the ropes, Atlas bends back, lifting Dace over his head, falling towards the mat and SLAMS him down with a Katahajime Suplex!!!

 

 

“Tez-plex!” yells Riley.

 

“Katahajime Suplex, actually.” Mark corrects.

 

 

Atlas rolls him over onto his belly, keeping the hold intact... He mounts Dace from behind, pulling back on the neck at all times... The referee drops down, continuously asking Dace if he wishes to quit.... Dace refuses again, though Hall doesn’t head over the loud noise made by the Denver crowd.... The ropes, which are opposite the ones he was so close to a moment ago are now all the way on the other side of the ring...

 

 

“Think this may be it for Dace Night, Riley?”

 

“Well, if it is then Sean Atlas definitely has my approval. But if Dace somehow manages to reach those ropes, he’s my new man, Mark.”

 

“Your ‘new man’?”

 

“Yeah, my new... HEY!”

 

 

Despite the odds being against him, in spite of the distance in front of him, Dace begins to crawl forward... His neck now in more pain than even Sean Atlas, Horrocore’s High Priest claws his way towards the other side of the ring, hoping against all hope that he’ll manage to get there sooner or later... as he takes in inch forward, Anthony Michael Hall shifts as well... Atlas tries holding him back, but having nothing to latch on to is powerless against the heavier Dace Night...

 

Crawling closer and closer to the ropes, now less than halfway across the ring, the fans seem to show more support towards Dace... Naturally rooting for the underdog, the crowd begins to start up small chants... None of them is substantial enough though, and are not heard above the overall commotion inside the Pepsi Center. Atlas, meanwhile is grimacing behind his mask, tugging away at the neck and one arm, trying to knock Dace out before he gets to the rope... but with every passing moment, he seems to come closer and closer that one elusive rubber-covered steep rope in front of him....

 

HO-RROR-CORE! HO-RROR-CORE! “HO-RROR-CORE! “HO-RROR-CORE! HO-RROR-CORE!

 

 

“It seems this crowd is now favoring Dace Night!” Mark says. “Looks like the SJL viewers have won over the SWF-only fans and got this chant to spread!”

 

“But can he do it, Mark?!” Riley asks. “Can Dace Night reach that bottom rope??”

 

 

He crawls forward with all the patience of a Buddhist... Continuously refusing to quit, Dace is just several feet away, making this a realistic goal... He claws his way along the surface of the ring, his masked opponent lying along his back and tearing away at the neck... One foot away now and he’s almost there... Sean Atlas’ grip can’t get any tighter... and it slows Dace down, preventing him from coming any closer... He reaches forward, but just isn’t close enough! With nothing but the arm making an effort towards the rope, Dace finally stops that and lays motionless underneath Sean Atlas....

 

 

“I think he’s out, Stevens!” Riley yells. “It’s all over now!”

 

“Not yet... not yet...”

 

 

Anthony Michael Hall takes Dace’s arm.... It Drops!

 

 

“One!”

 

 

 

Referee Hall lifts it off the canvas again....

 

 

 

 

It drops!!!

 

“Two!”

 

 

Taking it a third time, Hall picks up Dace Night’s arm, then lets it go...

 

 

 

 

.

 

 

 

 

 

..

 

 

 

 

 

...

 

 

 

 

 

It doesn’t drop!

 

 

“He’s still in it!” yells Mark Stevens.

 

 

Dace keeps the arm erect and extended towards the rope, one finger pointing right at it... He begins to crawl forward again, surprising everyone in the building, most of all Sean Atlas... He makes up a good distance, and inches closer and closer towards it... Less than a foot away now as the fans cheer him on, those in the front row ahead of him, reaching out, as if to motivate him even more... Closer now... Closer...

 

 

Just a little bit left...

 

 

 

...just a bit more...

 

 

 

 

 

“HE GETS IT!”

 

 

Dace Night grabs on to the bottom rope! The Pepsi Center erupts with cheers as the referee orders Sean Atlas to let the hold go! Aggravated and extremely pissed off, Sean breaks the hold rolling over on to his back clutching his face.

 

 

“What will Sean Atlas have to do to beat Dace Night, dammit?!?” Stevens asks. “He’s done it twice, but each time with the assistance of other objects. Can he defeat him one on one or not?”

 

“Apparently not, Mark.” Riley replies. “Dace Night is THE MAN for getting to that rope, and it looks like Sean Atlas is out of options.”

 

 

But Sean Atlas isn’t. Far beyond his boiling point now, Atlas rolls out of the ring to the outside for the first time, leaning on the ring apron to catch his breath. Dace Night finally lets the rope go, but doesn’t move as Sean on the outside bends down. He reaches under the apron, looking for a particular object... Seemingly rejecting a couple at first, he continues to look for one specific thing...

 

 

“Why would he go down there?” Mark asks. “It’ll only get him disqualified.”

 

“Don’t ask me, I just talk here.” Riley says.

 

 

He finally comes back out from underneath the ring, holding something in his hand. He slides it unto his tights while the referee tends to Dace. Sliding back into the ring, Sean stands and walks towards Dace, but Anthony Michael Hall sees Atlas and the bulge in his pants, smiling for a moment before confronting him about it.

 

 

“Oh, come on.” Riley says. “No way he’s that big.”

 

“WHAT??”

 

“Oh, no. I mean uh, no way that’s real!”

 

“HUH?!”

 

“Uh, wait, no. Get that rod ou... No.. Ugh, dammit!”

 

 

Hall orders Atlas to pull out whatever he’s hiding in his tights. Atlas shrugs it off though, motioning to the crowd that he’s not hiding anything that isn’t normally there... But the referee knows Atlas all too well from his SJL days and decides to bother asking him and instead, pulls his tight forward, exposing the hidden object. He points at it while yelling at Atlas to take it out since there’s no way he’s reaching in there. Reluctantly, Sean reaches down and pulls out...

 

 

“A glass light tube??” asks Mark.

 

“See? Told you it was a fake!” Riley says.

 

“Of course, but that distraction gave Dace Night enough time to recover and nearly stand up!”

 

 

The ref orders Atlas to get rid of the light tube. Meanwhile, Dace night leans against the ropes, clutching each one of them to get himself standing. Atlas ignores the referee and heads for his opponent, standing behind him and out of view. With the tube in his left hand, Atlas reaches around Dace’s head with his right, locking in his neck once again. Then, with the left hand, he hooks Dace’s arm just like before, but makes sure not to make any contact with the glass light bulb tube...

 

Fixing his hands in place, Atlas pulls back and gets the standing Dace Night away from the ropes, locking in the KATAHAJIME CHOKE ONCE AGAIN!

 

 

“Watch that light tube Atlas, you don’t want to get disqualified!” yells Riley.

 

“All Dace has to do is force Sean to hit him and it’s over!” Mark Stevens suggests.

 

 

Atlas pulls Dace back, dragging him all around the ring... Holding the light tube just inches away from his face, Atlas is cautious about not using it... Referee Hall stands in front of Dace, watching both the tube and Dace’s mouth to see if he’ll quit... The fans don’t know whether to sheer of boo, but they make the most noise they’ve made all night anyway, screaming hoping for some amazing event to occur...

 

Swinging Dace around, Atlas gets him out of Hall’s view... The referee follows though, keeping a close eye on the action... Sean continues to spin around, getting himself dizzy and Dace as well, who is halfway to unconsciousness at this point... His arms flail wildly in the air whilst he tries to loosen Atlas’ grip... he has no strength to do so however...

 

Sean rotates again, this time making sure to trap Hall behind him in a corner... Leaning forward, he allows Dace to plant his feet firmly and pushes back, causing them both to back up until Hall, sandwiching him between them and the pads! This distracts him for a moment, but doesn’t knock down the former wrestler turned ref...

 

 

“Close call for Hall” Riley says...

 

 

Atlas takes advantage of the distraction though and shifts that left arm, getting the light tube into Dace’s hand. He wraps the weakened fingers of his opponent around the glass tube, making sure that Dace holds it tightly...

 

 

“What’s he doing?!?” Mark asks.

 

 

Atlas then takes Dace’s wrist allowing him to escape the hold for one moment... Holding Night’s hand, Atlas leans his head forward and with one wild swing, Atlas executes his devious plan...

 

 

!*SHATTER*!

 

 

...BREAKING THE GLASS TUBE AGAINST HIS OWN HEAD USING DACE’S HAND!

 

 

“WHAT THE HELL?!?” Stevens screams. “Did the ref see that?”

 

“I don’t think so!!!” Riley replies!

 

 

Sean falls back, clutching his white mask which is covered with shards of glass... Blood begins to seep out of eye holes of the mask, legitimately flowing from out of his head. Dace Night, who fell forward when Atlas let him go holds the unbroken end of the light tube, unaware of what exactly transpired just a second ago. The fans wonder as well, unsure of what occurred. The referee though, sees the piece of glass in Dace’s hand, and Sean bleeding nearby. Distracted a moment ago by being knocked into the corner, he makes his assertion of the situation...

 

 

“NO, Hall! That’s not what happened!” Stevens yells desperately. “It’s not what it looks like!”

 

“Brilliant...” says Riley.

 

“He didn’t do it, ref!”

 

 

But Hall doesn’t hear him, nor does he care. The evidence shows it all and he walks towards the corner near the timekeeper, waving his finger in the air...

 

 

*DING DING DING*

 

 

His words are not heard over the commotion of the crowd as he yells something out to Funyon. Reluctantly, the ring announcer listens to him and draws the microphone to his mouth.

 

 

“As a result of a Disqualification, the winner of this bout.... and New number one contender to...

 

 

... to the United States Title is SEAN ATLAS!”

 

 

BBBOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

 

“DAMMIT!” yells a furious Mark Stevens. “What a prick! He made it look like Dace hit him with the tube to wind the match! Just because he couldn’t do it on his own!”

 

“Hey, it’s the referee’s fault for not seeing it!” Riley replies.

 

“But Sean bumped into him INTENTIONALLY, Riley! It was all a part of his plan!”

 

“And what a plan! The damn masochist literally hit HIMSELF with a glass light tube to win. Now is that’s not sacrificing to win, nothing is.”

 

“It’s not right. It just isn’t.”

 

 

Lacuna Coil’s “Heaven’s a Lie” blasts over the speakers once more, signifying Sean’s win. Dace Night finally realizes what just happened and throws the piece of glass away. He walks over to Anthony Michael Hall, pulling him away from the downed Atlas. Getting in his face, Dace tries to explain to him what he missed... but Hall refuses to listen!

 

 

“Carefully Anthony, that guy doesn’t like anyone but himself!” Riley says. “He’s partnering up with Danny Williams and some Viagra guy from the League. Everyone else is fair game!”

 

 

Hall walks around Dace, bumping into him as he passes, trying to get back to the bloody Atlas, who clearly oversells the shot with the tube. Suddenly, Hall feels a hand on the back of his neck as Dace Night grabs him, lifts him, and forces him running to the side and over the top rope out of the ring!!!

 

 

“Told ya.” says Riley.

 

 

Dace quickly turns his attention to Atlas, hoping to get revenge on someone here. But after seeing the referee get thrown out of the ring, Sean quickly rolled to the outside, still holding his bleeding head beneatht he mask, but not nearly selling it like he did a moment ago. All the fans finally catch on as Sean walks up the ramp, smiling wildly at an enraged Dace Night in the ring.

 

 

“Sean Atlas has introduces himself to the SWF, showing exactly just how he chooses to fight.” Says Grand Slam Mark Stevens

 

“But it works, Mark.” Riley replies. “It works, and that number one contendership just might be worth a small scar on your head.”

 

“He is indeed the number one contender to the United States title, which is to be decided later on tonight.” notes Stevens. “But first, and next, we shall see Janus and Beezel fight for the Hardcore Gamers Title, which in a perfect world, Dace Night would be next in line for, inside a STEEL CAGE!”

 

“I can’t wait to see it!” Riley says as the view fades out to black.

[Guest Chuck Woolery]

(Crusen) The SWF - lowering people's self esteem since 2000.

 

I shouldn't be beating myself up so much after this one... but damn. Congrats to Craven, regardless...

 

---

 

We return from a video package recapping the two matches Mike Van Siclen and Michael Craven have had and proceed to the announcers’ table, where Mark Stevens and Bobby Riley sit, Riley going all-out, decked out in fatigues, whereas Stevens goes a bit more subtle, wearing a camouflage helmet instead. The two smile as they welcome us back.

 

“Welcome back to SWF Battleground, folks,” Stevens says, merrily as always. “If you’re just tuning in…”

 

“…then you’re wasting five of those dollars,” Riley interjects, “because you’ve already missed two spectacular matches.”

 

“True this is, Bobbo. Beezel and Janus was one wild, wild fight, and Sean Atlas and Dace Night was a brilliant continuation of their feud. I can’t wait to see…”

 

“Don’t spoil it, Mark, make them order the replay.”

 

“Fine. And folks, tonight we have an absolutely HUGE card for you, with Tom Flesher defending against TNT and Frost, Neilsen of the Jungle and the Suicide King finally meeting in the squared circle… it’s too much to say in one breath, so all we say is take it away, Funyon – right now, it’s Michael Craven vs Mike Van Siclen, with the United States title on the line!”

 

The spotlights throughout the arena all shift down to the center of the ring, the houselights dimming to nothing as the only light in the building is on Funyon, who clears his throat before beginning to speak.

 

“Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is scheduled for ONE fall… and it is for the SMARKS WRESTLING FEDERATION YOOOOOOU-NITED STATES CHAMPIONSHIP!”

 

The crowd pops for the name of the title, and Funyon can’t help but smile despite how many times he’s heard that pop. He continues, “This match will be fought under traditional rules, with full disqualifications and count-outs! And now, ladies and gentlemen… the challenger.”

 

The final light in the building, the one on Funyon, cuts out… the crowd begins to boo as only the sound of explosions are heard…

 

“BOOM-BOOM BOOM... BOOM...”

 

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. This is when golden waterfalls of pyro similar begin flowing from the top of the SmarkTron and the crowd’s boos are kicked up a notch.

 

“He hails from Tampa, Florida…”

 

A huge pyro blast kicks up from the front of the stage at the guitar drop, strobes still going. Suddenly, as Chris Cornell begins to sing, a spotlight shines down on Michael Craven, standing on stage. He stops turning to look at the fans, and quickly, he spins around twice, finishing by pointing to himself and flexing as the crowd’s booing intensifies. He follows it up by walking down the ramp in a half-strut.

 

“Weighing in at two-hundred and sixty pounds, give it up for the Nightmare himself… MIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIICHAEL CRAVEN!”

 

He hops over the top rope, landing on his feet. 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. Mike then hops off the turnbuckle, walks across the ring to another turnbuckle, climbs this, and repeats the entire show before settling down a bit, going to his corner and staring at the ramp, waiting for the sheep to be lead to slaughter as the spotlight on the middle of the ring shines down again, Funyon stepping into the center.

 

“And now, ladies and gentlemen, introducing the champion!”

 

TING! TING! TING! TING!

 

The four quick cymbals and even quicker guitar riff blast throughout the arena, signaling the beginning of Dark Tranquility’s “Damage Done” and Mike Van Siclen’s arrival! As the song progresses, the crowd’s cheering begins to die down, as the wait for Van Siclen’s arrival… and then.

 

BOOM!

 

A huge wall of blue pyro goes off underneath the Smarktron, while a wall of purple pyro mingles with it from the top! The crowd erupts as the song continues, and Van Siclen steps out from behind the walls, the United States title resting comfortably against his acid-green jacket! The crowd erupts as the champion calmly steps down the entrance ramp, Funyon introing him all the way.

 

“He hails from Harrison, Illinois! Weighing in at two-hundred, thirty-seven pounds, he is your S-W-F YOOOOOOOOU-NITED STATES CHAMPION! Give it up for the Spectacle himself – MIIIIIIIIIIKE VA-AN SIIIIIIIIC-LEEEEEEEEEEEN!”

 

The crowd roars as Van Siclen reaches out into the crowd, slapping some hands before hitting the ring area. The Spectacle, instead of his traditional slide into the ring, calmly walks over to the stairs, walking up them deliberately, never taking his eyes off of Craven. Funyon slides out of the ring as Van Siclen moves over on the ring apron, posing on it, his right arm extended with the US Title slung over the shoulder while his left gestures at the title, as if to say “Look at what I’ve got!”

 

Van Siclen grins, turning around and stepping into the ring, handing his title to referee Anthony Michael Hall and going to his corner, stretching out on the ropes. Hall holds up the title, then hands it over to the ring attendant and calls both Van Siclen and Craven to the middle of the ring. He explains the rules, electricity in the arena crackling as Mark and Bobby speculate.

 

“These two have faced each other five times, and Mike Van Siclen is 4-1 against this man.”

 

“…since when?”

 

“Well, there was Jeremy Miller over Ash Ketchum in the Television Title tournament... then Jeremy Miller and Renegade over Ash Ketchum and HamSauce…”

 

“That doesn’t count! It’s not Craven’s fault he got saddled with a shitty partner!”

 

“Whatever… then Craven over Van Siclen two weeks ago, the first time these two met for the United States title. Of course, we can’t forget Van Siclen’s title win, and then Beezel/Van Siclen versus Craven/Janus, with El Scorcho and Van Siclen getting the duke.”

 

“…are you suggesting that Craven has no chance?”

 

“Oh, he has a chance. A one in five chance, to be exact.”

 

Riley groans as in the ring Craven and Van Siclen separate, going back to their respective corners as Hall calls for the bell.

 

.:Ding Ding Ding:.

 

The two men begin to circle each other, each looking to gain their advantage over their foe. They circle around the ring, Van Siclen staring at Craven and Craven returning the stare in the form of a glare, trying to intimidate the Spectacle with his looks. The two’s circling incites the already-crackling crowd, and a small “M-V-S!” chant breaks out. Van Siclen, hearing this, stops circling, and poses for the crowd as they begin to roar! Craven, however, does not roar, instead charging at the champion and grabbing him in a bearhug, lifting him up and charging with him into the ring post!

 

Van Siclen hits the buckle hard, and the crowd boos slightly as Craven gets down, putting his hands on the middle ropes and beginning to thrust his shoulder into Van Siclen’s chest!

 

THUMP!

 

THUMP!

 

THUMP!

 

Craven backs out of the corner, letting MVS stumble out, and as he does Craven grabs him by the neck, whipping him over with a quick snapmare to put Van Siclen into a sitting position. Craven follows this one up quickly, standing up to his full height and leveling a toe kick right into Van Siclen’s spine! Mike grabs his back in pain, hitting the mat and rolling over onto his stomach, clutching his back in pain as Craven reaches down, grabbing the Spectacle by the hair and lifting him to his feet.

 

“Craven taking the advantage early, scoring with a few basic moves to take advantage.”

 

“See, Mark, this is one of Craven’s strengths. The last time these two faced, Michael used big moves instead of building any real offensive momentum, and that hurt him. Here, he’s using smaller, less-impactful moves to build up towards the big annihilation move, and it should work for him.”

 

Craven grabs Van Siclen by the arm, whipping the Spectacle into the ropes. Van Siclen hits hard, coming back flying at Craven, who drops to the mat and proceeds to drop Van Siclen with a drop toe hold! Craven rolls through and to his feet, posing quickly and sucking in the boos before grabbing Van Siclen by the hair, dragging him over to the ropes he was already close to. Craven sets Van Siclen’s neck on the bottom rope, then presses his boot right into the back of MVS’ head! The crowd roars out in boos as referee Hall begins to count.

 

“ONE!”

 

“TWO!”

 

“THREE!”

 

“FOUR!”

 

“FI…” at the absolute last moment, Craven lets go of the hold, turning away from Van Siclen and to the crowd, golf-clapping for himself as the crowd angrily boos him. Van Siclen, meanwhile, removes his neck from the rope, coughing a little bit as Craven turns back to him, grabbing him by the hair and lifting him to his feet.

 

“Craven with the blatant choke on Van Siclen, and MVS is definitely lucky that this isn’t a hardcore match.”

 

“No he’s not, because no matter what he does Craven will kill him. At least in a hardcore match there’s always the possibility that Michael will knock his bitch-ass out – in a normal match, Michael can drag out the pain as long as he wants.”

 

Craven grabs Van Siclen by the arm, taking him to the middle of the ring before whipping Van Siclen into the ropes. Again, MVS hits hard, coming flying back at Craven, whose arm is extended to armdrag the champion. Craven’s arm catches Mike’s and he looks for the armdrag, but Van Siclen simply hops around the move, and Craven, surprised at Mike’s counter, turns right into the Spectacle – who catches Craven with a knee to the stomach!

 

The crowd cheers as Van Siclen lifts Craven up into an upright position, proceeding to whip the Nightmare into the turnbuckle. Van Siclen follows right behind Craven as he releases, pancaking Craven against the buckle! The kickback sends Van Siclen back out of the corner, and the impact causes Craven to stumble out – but Mike puts a palm in his stomach, shoving him back into the corner! The crowd cheers, and they do so even louder as Van Siclen cups Craven’s chin in his left hand, reaching back with his right before drawing it across Craven’s chest with a hard knife-edged chop!

 

“WHOOOOOOO!”

 

Van Siclen grins, letting go of Craven’s chin. The big man stumbles out of the corner again a little bit, and this time as he does MVS hits the mat, scissoring Craven’s legs and slamming him face-first to the mat with a harsh drop toe hold! Van Siclen gets up quickly from this, turning to the crowd and making the motion of a belt around his waist, garnering a pop as the Spectacle turns back to Craven.

 

“Van Siclen takes the advantage off of the armdrag, and he turns the tables on Craven!”

 

“Yeah, but MVS can’t even think of his own move – he used the exact same thing Craven used on him just moments earlier!”

 

“… does anybody care, really? It’s not like Michael Craven invented the drop toe hold.”

 

“Oh no? Who did?”

 

“Nova.”

 

Van Siclen grabs Craven by the head, lifting the Nightmare to his feet and whipping him hard into the ropes. Craven hits them, bouncing back at Van Siclen, who looks to decapitate Craven with a lariat – but the big man ducks! Van Siclen, surprised at the reversal, whips around as Craven hits the other ropes, coming back at Van Siclen and looking for a flying forearm – but Van Siclen sidesteps it, causing Craven to go crashing past him and into the mat! The crowd cheers mildly for this as Van Siclen goes over to the turnbuckle, climbing it deliberately and turning around as he hits the top, posing atop the turnbuckle as the crowd roars, not knowing what is to come. Van Siclen doesn’t wish to leave them hanging, however, and he leaps off…

 

His legs split and outstretch, his right one facing the crowd, and his left one like the blade, aimed straight for the back of Craven’s neck – this move could be crippling, assuming it hits…

 

WHUMPH!

 

Van Siclen catches Craven RIGHT across the back of the neck, and the crowd erupts as Van Siclen quickly removes his leg from Craven’s neck, rolling the big man over and making the cover! Hall, quickly sliding into position, makes the count…

 

“ONE!”

 

“TWO!”

 

“TH – TWO!” Craven gets a shoulder up, and Van Siclen lets out a minor sigh before grabbing Craven by the head once again, lifting him to his feet.

 

“Van Siclen with the Guillotine right there, but it only got two and a half on the Nightmare!”

 

“MC is just too mighty for Van Siclen, and everybody in this building knows it. My one wish is that Craven can win this one quickly, because Baywatch reruns are on at 11:30.”

 

“…don’t you mean Gaywatch?”

 

Van Siclen lifts Craven into a standing position, only to kick him straight in the gut less than ten seconds after doing this! The crowd erupts as Van Siclen grabs Craven in a side headlock, lifting one closed fist into the air, the signal for the Code Red! Craven, however, wants no part of that, and he expresses this by giving Van Siclen a swift punch to the kidneys! Van Siclen’s hold slips a little bit, and Craven, smelling blood, again catches Van Siclen with a shot to the kidney!

 

Mike, now, is doubled over, the hold barely still applied to Craven. Michael, however, is wide awake, and he wraps his own arm around Mike’s neck, grabbing Van Siclen by the tights and lifting him up into vertical suplex position! He holds the Spectacle there for a few seconds, letting the entire crowd see how he can manhandle Van Siclen before falling back, slamming Van Siclen into the mat with a hard stalling suplex! Craven gets to his feet, eyeing Van Siclen’s fallen body before grabbing him by his long dark-blue hair and lifting him up.

 

“Craven reverses the Code Red into a vertical suplex there, and he now finds himself controlling this match!”

 

“Indeed he does, Mark, and we all know what he can do with it. I can’t wait for him to refresh my memory, though!”

 

Craven lifts Van Siclen all the way up, so that the Spectacle is standing face-to-face with Craven. A gleam in his eye, the Nightmare wraps one large hand around Van Siclen’s neck, and the crowd begins booing like HELL, knowing exactly what Craven is going to do! Craven, however, doesn’t care that they know – he’s more than willing to laugh in their faces. His grip around Van Siclen’s neck tightens, and the Spectacle tries to force his way out of it but his offence is weak compared to the huge chokehold Craven has on him!

 

Craven, sick of waiting, finally lifts Van Siclen into the air, getting him about two feet off of the mat and holding him there for a few seconds, hanging from a single fist that clenches tightly around his neck. A false move could snap his neck – and Craven is right there to ensure that neck-snappage will happen. Finally, again growing sick of this waiting game, Craven falls forward, slamming Van Siclen into the mat with a hard chokeslam! Craven stands up, a swagger in his step and his cocky tone showing through as he sneers at Mike, talking trash at the Spectacle’s unmoving body as he places one foot on his chest, posing as referee Hall makes the count –

 

“ONE!”

 

“TWO!”

 

“T- TWO!” Van Siclen kicks out, and Craven removes his foot from the Spectacle’s sternum, kicking him in the head once for good measure before grabbing him by the hair and lifting him into full upright position.

 

“Craven with the chokeslam on Van Siclen, but his ego leads to the cocky pin that barely manages a two count!”

 

“‘Barely’, Mark? That was so close to a three count… gah. It’s a fluke Van Siclen got out of that beautiful pinning predicament. A fluke.”

 

Craven grabs Van Siclen by the arm, and he stretches it out to its full length before quickly dashing behind the champion, putting his right arm between Mike’s neck and his right arm! Craven quickly does the same to Van Siclen’s left, putting the Spectacle into a standing full-nelson! Quickly taking advantage of his one-up on Van Siclen, Craven lifts him into the air, pausing there for a few moments before slamming Van Siclen down, face-first, into the mat, making the Spectacle the victim of a “Red Fusion” Full Nelson Front Slam! Quickly, Craven rolls Van Siclen over, making the cover.

 

“ONE!”

 

“TWO!”

 

“TH – TWO!” Van Siclen gets the shoulder up, and Craven, frustrated, grabs MVS’ long, dark blue hair, lifting him to his feet.

 

“Craven with the Red Fusion, but it too only gets two! It seems to me, Bobby, that Craven is trying too hard to end this match early!”

 

“It’s obvious, Mark. I’m no Van Siclen fan, but even I can admit that the longer the match goes on, the less it favors Craven, whose high-impact style takes a lot out of him when he goes on offence, the perfect compliment to Van Siclen’s methodical-decapitation offence.”

 

“Surprisingly accurate analysis, Boobi.”

 

“…it’s Bobby.”

 

“I know.”

 

Craven goes behind Van Siclen, his stomach to the Spectacle’s back, and catches Mike in the back with a swift knee! MVS doubles over backwards, but as he realizes where he is he quickly formulates a plan to get out of the predicament. While Van Siclen thinks, Craven applies a side headlock, putting the Spectacle into position for an inverted DDT! Craven holds up one arm to signal for the move, and as he does Van Siclen winds up and fires an elbow into his kidney! Craven loosens up the hold, and Van Siclen, sensing blood, levels another shot at Craven’s kidney, causing him to lose all semblance of grip on MVS’ neck and grab his kidneys in pain.

 

Taking advantage of Craven’s incapacitation, Van Siclen stands up to his full height, raising his right fist high into the air and then slamming it down into Craven’s lower back! The shock from this causes Craven to jerk to his full height, and Van Siclen quickly buries a knee in the Nightmare’s back, doubling him over backwards. Grinning like a madman, Van Siclen applies a side headlock, now, and raises his own left arm, signaling for his version of the Roll of the Dice, the Russian Roulette! Van Siclen brings his arm down quickly, though, swinging underneath Craven and snapping his neck over, all in one fluid motion! The crowd erupts as Van Siclen quickly gets back to his feet, shouting at Craven “Don’t EVER steal my moves!”

 

“Craven looks for the Diamond Bullet, but Van Siclen reverses it into his own interpretation of the move, the Russian Roulette!”

 

“Craven had that move first, Mark. Van Siclen should be a nice boy and give it back.”

 

MVS looks down at Craven, who lies facedown on the mat massaging his sore neck. Smiling, Van Siclen gets down on the mat as well, swinging his right leg over Craven’s body while keeping his left on Michael’s left side. Van Siclen then sits down on Craven’s back, putting some stress there. The Spectacle then reaches forward, sliding his right arm underneath Craven’s and then quickly bringing it up, pressing his own hand into Craven’s neck in a half nelson! Van Siclen quickly follows this up by wrapping his other arm around Craven’s neck, grabbing his right wrist to put the two together into a ground Tazzmission, the former Van Siclenmission!

 

The crowd erupts for MVS’ old finish as Craven’s face twists into a mask of pain, the stress on his neck and upper back enormous and the option of tapping looking so good – but his left arm is still free and there’s a rope to the left of him, maybe two inches out of his grasp! He reaches over, stretching as far as he can, trying to get to the ropes, which will force Hall to force Mike to break the hold. On sheer will along Craven inches closer… closer… his hand wavering a bit until it firmly grasps onto the bottom rope! The crowd boos at this as Hall forces Van Siclen off of the Nightmare, and Mike paces around a little bit, trying to calm himself as Craven hauls himself to his feet.

 

“Van Siclen applies the Van Siclenmission on Craven, but Michael is not done enough yet, and he managed to get to the ropes, breaking the hold!”

 

“Did you expect anything less from the next United States champion, bud?”

 

Craven moves towards Van Siclen, looking to catch him off-guard, but Van Siclen senses Craven’s movement behind him and quickly turns around, leveling a quick toe kick into Craven’s stomach! Craven doubles over, and Van Siclen grabs him around the waist and thrusts his head between his legs, putting Craven into a standing headscissors! The crowd erupts, despite not being sure what this sets up, and Van Siclen puts his hands underneath Craven’s chest, heaving him up and into position for a powerbomb!

 

But Craven, thinking on his feet (or, rather, Mike’s shoulders), lifts his arm and brings it down across the top of Mike’s head! Van Siclen stumbles around a bit, off balance, and Craven thinks even quicker, putting both of his hands on the back of Van Siclen’s head and then falling backwards, taking his legs off of Van Siclen’s shoulders and splitting them, as though he were going for a leg drop. He keeps his hold on Van Siclen’s head as he falls down, and as Craven hits Van Siclen’s head hits between his legs, victim of an elevated X-Factor! The crowd roars out in boos as the impact bounces Mike over onto his back, and Craven covers for the pin, which Hall counts.

 

“ONE!”

 

“TWO!”

 

“THR – TWO!” Van Siclen barely gets the shoulder up, and Craven, even more frustrated than before, grabs him by the dark blue hair and lifts him to his feet.

 

“Van Siclen looks for the powerbomb, but the heavier Craven refused to let that happen, instead turning it into an elevated X-Factor that nearly got three!”

 

“Again, Mark, that’s the biggest fluke kickout I’ve ever seen. As I said earlier, Craven has managed to adapt to Van Siclen’s offence, and MVS is showing that he can’t do the same.”

 

Craven grabs Van Siclen by the back of the hair with his left hand, getting in his face and furiously yelling at him! Van Siclen, however, is pretty much unfazed, and he looks into Craven’s eyes and says, very calmly, “Don’t touch my hair.” The crowd, hearing this over the house mic, erupts in cheers, which infuriates Craven even more, and he rears back with his right hand and slaps Van Siclen as hard as he can across the face, prompting this gem from Stevens: “I guess that’s his way of paying homage to Miss Elizabeth.”

 

Riley, despite himself, can’t help but laugh as Van Siclen’s head snaps over and he stumbles away from Craven, grabbing his cheek in pain. Michael, taking advantage, goes over to Van Siclen, grabbing him by the hair and dragging him over to the ropes, placing his neck on the second rope. He turns around, slapping his chest twice in anger before dashing over to the ropes, hitting them and coming back like a freight train at Van Siclen, and as he reaches the ropes he lifts his right leg up, sandwiching Van Siclen’s neck between his right leg and the middle rope! Craven bounces back off of Van Siclen quickly, as Mike too bounces off of the ropes and into a standing position, clutching his neck in pain. Craven, again taking advantage from behind Mike, snakes one arm around his right leg and rolls him back, grabbing his tights for extra leverage as Hall counts the pin –

 

“ONE!”

 

“TWO!”

 

“THRE – TWO!” Van Siclen manages to roll backwards and out of the pin, adjusting his tights as he slowly gets to his feet, Craven walking over to him to prepare for his next move.

 

“Craven running through all the traditional heel moves there -”

 

“I haven’t seen anybody pull off those moves with that much flair since the days of Suicide King, Mark!”

 

Van Siclen stands up to his full life, his back to the ropes behind him as Craven walks over and wraps his arms around his waist, putting Van Siclen in position for a belly-to-belly suplex! The crowd begins booing, and they boo even more as Craven falls back, throwing Van Siclen with a perfect belly-to-belly overhead suplex! Van Siclen groans on the mat, but Craven can’t resist going over to him, stomping him in the chest a few times! The crowd boos even more as Craven gets sick of the stomping and grabs Van Siclen by the hair, lifting the Spectacle to his feet.

 

Craven grabs Van Siclen by the arm, whipping him into the ropes quickly. Van Siclen comes back at Craven and immediately, Craven’s right arm wraps around Van Siclen’s left leg, and his left arm wraps around Van Siclen’s neck. Craven uses Mike’s momentum to hoist the Spectacle up, onto his shoulders, in perfect position for the Samoan Driver, or the Craven Driver!

 

“Craven has Van Siclen set up for the Craven Driver!”

 

“Things aren’t looking so hot for Van Siclen now, are they, Mark? AHAHAHAHAHA!”

 

Van Siclen, however, is not so quick as to just let his foe hit him with such a powerful move, and he begins thrashing his legs, trying to break the hold that Craven has on his legs. Forced to try to keep MVS’ legs under control, Craven is unable to keep his grip on Van Siclen’s neck, and as he wiggles his left leg free Van Siclen quickly springs into action, grabbing Craven’s neck with his right arm and swinging his legs backwards, causing himself to fall to the mat, with Craven’s neck in his right arm! As Van Siclen hits the mat, his arm drives Craven’s neck into the mat with a reverse Tornado DDT! The crowd erupts as Craven grabs his neck, unable to massage it for long as Van Siclen jumps on top for the cover!

 

“ONE!”

 

“TWO!”

 

“THR – TWO!” Craven gets the kickout, still grabbing his neck in pain, and Van Siclen levels a stiff kick at it before grabbing the Nightmare by the head and lifting him to his feet.

 

“Van Siclen reverses the Craven Driver into a reverse Tornado DDT! I’d say that’s a good way to adapt to the Nightmare’s moveset, wouldn’t you, Riley!”

 

“Yeah, whatever. It’s not like that means he’s good or anything, just lucky.”

 

Van Siclen, now in the driver’s seat, grabs Craven by the arms, whipping him into the ropes hard. Craven comes back, and Van Siclen quickly snakes one arm between his legs, grabbing him by the neck with the other one and whirling him over with a perfect Powerslam! The crowd pops for the move, which has put Craven right in front of the turnbuckle, in perfect position to be a victim! Van Siclen, too, can see this, and he goes over to the ropes, slapping the turnbuckle several times in succession, and the crowd roars, knowing exactly what he’s going to do!

 

Van Siclen steps between the top and second ropes, so that he’s looking into the ring at Craven. He takes a deep breath, mentally prepping himself as he grabs the pole connecting the top turnbuckle to the ring post, and the top rope… and then he leaps into the air, doing a quarter-turn so that he faces the crowd as his feet hit the ropes, which give him some slack to balance himself quickly. However, as the ropes spring back into place Van Siclen springs back with them, arching his back and extending his body, his stomach outstretched and facing down at its victim, Craven’s head! Craven has no time to move, as Van Siclen’s body is moving too fast as it comes down…

 

WHUMPH!

 

Right on Craven’s head! Van Siclen bounces off about three seconds after he hits, allowing Craven to clutch his neck in pain before jumping back on top, hooking the leg for the pin!

 

“ONE!”

 

“TWO!”

 

“THR – TWO COUNT!” Craven still manages to get the kickout, and Van Siclen lets out a sigh, grabbing Craven by the head and lifting him to his feet.

 

“Moonsault across Craven’s neck, and that could’ve been the knockout blow right there!”

 

“But it wasn’t, Mark, because Craven is such an excellent specimen of man and power and BEAST, baby!”

 

“…that was supposed to make sense, I take it?”

 

“Well, it was supposed to.”

 

Van Siclen grabs Craven by the arm, whipping the Nightmare forcefully into the ropes. As Craven comes back Van Siclen sticks out one arm, looking to take Craven’s head off with a lariat – but the Idol of Desire ducks underneath, hitting the other ropes! He comes back at Van Siclen, looking for a lariat of his own – but Van Siclen hits the mat, scissoring the Freak’s legs and sending him face-first to the mat with a sweet drop toe hold! The crowd erupts for the move as Van Siclen rolls through and to his feet, grabbing Craven by the arm and lifting him to his feet.

 

Craven stands up, with Van Siclen holding his right arm. Van Siclen runs forward, past Craven to the left side to wrap MC’s arm around his own neck! However, Craven, having seen this move before, rolls with the arm, in an almost ballet-style counter! As this happens Craven and Mike stand, holding each other by the hand. MVS, confused at this counter, can’t think of a backup plan, but he doesn’t have to as Craven pulls Van Siclen towards him and into a shortarm clothesline! Van Siclen bounces on the mat, rolling onto his stomach and groaning as Craven flexes his muscles over the fallen Spectacle.

 

“Craven reversing the Blackjack Neckbreaker into a shortarm clothesline there, a very nice maneuver from the giant, something we’re definitely not accustomed to seeing.”

 

“Well, you’re not.”

 

“…instead of pursuing that joke, I’d like to warn all of our fans right now that Oat Toast is bad for your health.”

 

Van Siclen gets to his feet, a bit shaky, and Craven is right there to add to the shakiness, grabbing the Spectacle by the arm again and pulling him close, only to slam him down with another shortarm clothesline! This one puts Van Siclen in perfect position right in front of the turnbuckle, and Craven smiles, going over to the turnbuckle and climbing it very deliberately, the crowd erupting in boos as they’ve seen this move – Craven’s preferred finisher, the Best Damn Finisher… in the world.

 

Craven reaches the top, facing the crowd and yelling some curse words at them before turning around, facing Mike Van Siclen, lying motionless in the middle of the ring. Craven bounces a couple of times on the ropes, building up momentum for his leap of faith and, hopefully, death for Mike Van Siclen, as the Spectacle continues to lie, seemingly oblivious to Craven as the Nightmare leaps off!..

 

Arching his back, completing a backflip, then bringing himself the extra quarter turn so that his knees are aimed directly at Van Siclen’s chest…

 

OR THE MAT! Van Siclen rolls out of the way at the last possible second and Craven hits nothing but canvas! Van Siclen looks at Craven, clutching his knee on the mat, and charges over to him, catching him with a dropkick to the face! Craven falls back, nearly into the turnbuckle, and Van Siclen jumps on top for the cover – but Craven reaches one arm out and under the rope, and Hall refuses to count the fall. Flustered, Van Siclen grabs Craven’s head, lifting him to his feet.

 

“VAN SICLEN AVOIDS THE BEST DAMN FINISHER… IN THE WORLD! The young superstar continues to amaze with his desire tonight, Bobby!”

 

“But the somewhat-older Craven continues to amaze with his intelligence! Do you think Mike Van Siclen would’ve forced the rope break in that situation? Hell no! But Michael Craven would.”

 

Van Siclen grabs Craven by the right arm, once again going past Craven to the left, this time bringing Craven’s up to his left shoulder! Van Siclen reaches forward, grabbing Craven’s left arm and bringing it to the Nightmare’s right shoulder, grabbing Craven in the Crossface setup for the Crossface Halo… but Craven wants no part of that, and as Hall focuses on the competitors’ upper bodies, Craven unleashes a quick back kick to Van Siclen’s nutsack! This maneuver causes Mike’s hands to fly from Craven’s arms to his gored genitals, and Craven quickly turns around, leveling a kick to Mike’s stomach! The Spectacle doubles over, and Craven bounces over to the ropes, coming back towards Van Siclen and lifting his right leg high, then jumping into the air and scissoring up with his left leg, snapping it down across the back of Van Siclen’s neck with a scissors kick, which Craven refers to as the Craven Kick! The crowd roars out in boos as Craven pushes Mike over onto his back, making the cover!

 

“ONE!”

 

“TWO!”

 

“THRE – TWO!” Van Siclen kicks out, and Craven, frustrated to the point of fury, grabs Van Siclen by the arm, lifting him to his feet with obvious bad intentions.

 

“Van Siclen looks for the Crossface Halo, but he falls victim to the Craven Kick!”

 

“I think Craven has Mike just about finished, here!”

 

“Gesticulating much, Bobby?”

 

“I am, actually.”

 

“Is it a new experience?”

 

Craven grabs Van Siclen by the arm, whipping him into the turnbuckle hard and following it up with a huge avalanche, crushing him against the turnbuckle! Craven backs out of the turnbuckle, and MVS stumbles out – but Craven puts one big palm into his chest, pushing him back into the turnbuckle! Van Siclen slumps against it, trying to catch his breath as Craven walks across the ring, nearly in the opposite turnbuckle before turning back to Van Siclen, his eyes glittering with an angry fire – his glare, very plainly screaming “death”, and if we follow his gaze we know exactly who this look is aimed at – the United States champion, Mike Van Siclen.

 

Craven gets down in a four-point stance, never taking his eyes off of Mike, in the opposite turnbuckle, as a sadistic grin crosses his face. Out of nowhere he explodes, turning up the jets and going full speed at Van Siclen, looking to absolutely crush him against the turnbuckle! Van Siclen, barely awake, sees Craven coming at him and only has time to let his instinct take over, and he grabs the top rope, throwing himself over and hanging on. Craven, never looking to see if Van Siclen is still in the corner, powers his legs up to throw his whole boy into Mike – but instead he propels himself right between the top and middle ropes, going full speed and smashing his right shoulder into the ring post! The impact jars his already-sore neck, and he grabs it in pain with his left arm, letting his right one hang down.

 

“Craven MISSES the Sonic Boom, and Riley, I don’t know what he was thinking there! Van Siclen’s been attacking his neck the whole night, and even if he had hit the move it probably would killed his neck enough that he wouldn’t be able to make the cover!”

 

“I’ll tell you what Craven was thinking, Mark. Craven was sick and tired of Mike Van Siclen coming back, and he knew that if he hit the move that, while Craven might not have been able to make the cover right away - ” Riley chuckles sadistically, “Van Siclen wouldn’t be able to digest solid food until 13th Hour.”

 

Van Siclen, still hanging onto the top rope, pulls himself up and onto the ring apron, then steps into the ring, looking at Craven, still grabbing his neck in a pain that might not go away for a while. Van Siclen grabs Craven by the bottom of his singlet, pulling him out from between the buckles and to his feet. Craven turns around, grabbing his neck in pain, and Van Siclen grabs him – by the right arm, which causes Craven to yelp out in pain – and leads him out into the middle of the ring, stopping abruptly and pushing him back before whipping him hard into the ropes.

 

Van Siclen turns around as he finishes the whip, staring directly at Craven so that the big man can’t tell what he will do. As Craven hits the ropes and comes back, he can’t tell what Van Siclen is going to do (surprise!), and as a result can’t prepare a counter for it! As he comes close to Van Siclen the Spectacle makes his move, ducking down at the last possible second! Craven, surprised by the move, has no choice but to roll straight over Mike, and Van Siclen stands up to his full height, grabbing Craven by the feet and holding him there, in midair, his face maybe a foot from the mat and only prevented from being smashed there –

 

By Mike Van Siclen, who smiles as the crowd roars, KNOWING what is going to happen from the year’s worth of Mike Van Siclen matches they’ve watched. Van Siclen lets out a couple of trash-talking yells, firing up the fans before he sits out, driving Craven’s head into the mat with a back-to-belly piledriver, the Van Slaminator! Craven’s head crashes into the mat and he falls over, lying on his back and unmoving as Van Siclen crawls on top, making the cover! Hall counts, the crowd behind every number, knowing that this is it!

 

“ONE!”

 

 

 

 

“TWO!”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“THREE – NO!” Van Siclen, hearing the no, looks at Hall, pointing to Craven and yelling “HIS SHOULDERS ARE DOWN!” Hall nods, then points at Craven’s foot – which is resting on the bottom rope! The crowd, seeing this, EXPLODES into boos, and Van Siclen lets out a roar of frustration, getting off of Craven and pacing around, trying to regain his focus as Craven moans on the mat, grabbing his neck in pain, so focused on this pain that he can’t get to his feet.

 

“CRAVEN KICKS OUT! Craven kicks out of the Van Slaminator, but Bobby, I don’t think he has enough to take out Van Siclen, now!”

 

“He does, though, and he just proved it by kicking out! Obviously Van Siclen can’t put away the Nightmare, and now Craven will put away the Spectacle!”

 

Van Siclen, finally formulating a plan B – he expected to get the pin! – turns back to Craven, grabbing the southeastern sensation by the arm and puling him out to the center of the ring. The crowd, sensing what is about to happen from Van Siclen’s actions, begins cheering slightly, and they cheer even more as Van Siclen pushes Craven over and onto his stomach! The fans, now sure of what will happen, begin to roar, and Van Siclen acknowledges them, kicking his left boot high into the air and planting it on Craven’s left side!

 

Now straddling the Nightmare, Van Siclen squats down, grabbing Craven’s left arm and stepping in front of it, then pulling his leg back to lock Craven’s arm behind it. Van Siclen does the same with the right one, putting Craven into Camel Clutch position! Van Siclen then reaches forward, locking his hands together and placing them across the bridge of Craven’s nose, pulling back with a Crossface to complete the Crossface/Camel Clutch combination, known as the Gokuraku Clutch – to Van Siclen’s fans, the Cardinal Sin Clutch! They roar at the same move that put Craven out for the United States title, and Van Siclen pulls back further, causing Craven to scream in agony, the stress on his neck already felt from the effects of the match amplified now, two, maybe three times! All of the pain – the Van Slaminator, the Riot Act from Storm, the missed Sonic Boom earlier in the match, the Russian Roulette, the dropkick to the teeth – it’s all rushing back to him double-time, and he yelps out in pain even more, not wanting to give up…

 

 

But not wanting to be crippled either, and unable to tap he expresses these desires another way –

 

“I QUIT!”

 

Hearing these words, Hall gets up, signaling for the bell quickly as Van Siclen breaks the hold, rolling out of the ring as Hall goes to retrieve the US Title!

 

.:Ding Ding Ding:.

 

Funyon grabs his microphone and speaks quickly. “Ladies and gentlemen, your winner, at sixteen minutes, fifty-four seconds, and STILL the SWF YOOOOOOOU-NITED STATES CHAMPION… MIIIIIIIIIIIIIIKE VA-AN SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIC-LEN!”

 

The crowd erupts as Van Siclen’s feet hit the outside of the ring and he begins walking away. Hall jogs after him, catching up to the Spectacle as he’s about halfway up the ramp and handing him the United States championship. Van Siclen looks at it, turning around as Hall grabs him by the wrist, lifting it high into the air as Van Siclen lifts his other arm, the one holding the United States title, into the air as well! The crowd roars as Hall drops Van Siclen’s arm and the Spectacle turns back around, the title still proudly held in the air as Van Siclen walks to the top of the ramp – then he stops. Turning back around, he sees Craven, still in the ring, clutching his neck and staring daggers at Van Siclen. Mike looks at the United States title, looks at Craven in pain, and yells out, presumably to Craven – “IT WAS ALL WORTH IT!”

 

The crowd roars once more as Van Siclen turns back around, disappearing behind the curtain as a video package begins playing for Neilsen of the Jungle…

[Guest Kibagami]

More comments by request. Look at me go!

 

I like the way the history between Mike and Ash is rehashed by the commentators, though I do think the JL history is going back a little far. That’s just nitpicking on my part, though. Overall it’s a nice addition to the opening.

 

The offensive adaptations made by Craven and later Van Siclen are an innovative idea, and I can’t say I’ve seen it done before with two movesets that seem to draw heavily from North American indies, but it seems a little forced in some places. One or two counter spots on Craven’s part would’ve been sufficient and allowed you to focus more on the neck work you did, but in your match it comes off as an attempt at psych work that doesn’t really flow as well as it could. I’d encourage you not to give up on the adaptive offense idea, though, as I don’t see it done within the fed very often.

 

Some of the commentary is shaky, shakier than Ash’s in places. The Oat Toast gag falls a little flat, and the Miss Elizabeth tribute, while appreciated, doesn’t come off so well because of the reliance on a conveniently-placed microphone. That’s the danger of humor in a match – if the reader doesn’t get the joke or find it funny, you can derail the flow of the match without meaning to.

 

The finish is well done, as it plays off the psych effectively, teases a few finishes on Craven’s part, and puts Craven over with the Van Slaminator kickout before he taps. My only issue with the finish was that a lot of your match’s neck psych was lost between counter spots. I actually had to go back and read the match again after you mentioned the neck psych in your finish to figure out where it was. That’s the major problem with this match, I think – you tried to tell two different stories at the same time, when focusing on one would’ve been more sufficient. Would I say that this match is clearly worse than Ash’s? Not necessarily, because I have serious, SERIOUS issues with his finish. It’s a tough call to make, because you both have some flaws in your finishes, but you make up for it in other areas of the match. More focus on your part is the only real advice I have. The writing and the wrestling both are very solid, and I think you’ll do well to continue with that fluid counter motif in the future given your moveset.

 

K.