Storm Losing Matches

[Guest Mr. Slim Citrus]

“Ladies and gentlemen, we’re about to have our US Title match,” says Mark Stevens. “This past Sunday at Battleground, Michael Craven managed to survive a war with Mike Van Siclen and regain the United States Championship. Now he’s going to have to make his first defense here tonight against one of the most unique wrestlers in the SWF today, the Wildchild!”

 

“There’s an outside possibility that Wildchild’s style could give Craven a few problems,” concedes Bobby Riley, “but I look for Craven’s strength and experience to be the deciding factors in this match. Wildchild doesn’t have a very impressive track record against anyone approaching Craven’s size. All Craven has to do is keep him on the ground, and Wildchild is about as worthless as a six dollar bill!”

 

“That may be easier said than done,” replies Stevens. “Craven hasn’t competed against anyone with the speed and agility that Wildchild possesses in quite some time. If Craven isn’t able to adjust to his unorthodox style quickly, we could be see a new US Champion here tonight!”

 

“I strongly disagree,” says Riley. “While Wildchild definitely has a speed advantage, I think he’s giving away too much size and strength in this match; I don’t believe that he’s going to be able do enough damage to keep Craven down long enough to pin him!”

 

“Wildchild might not be able to match power with Craven,” admits Stevens, “but the way in which he uses his body as a weapon may offset his strength disadvantage.” Mark turns to face the camera. “Well folks, who wins the classic battle of power versus speed? We’re about to find out, as we go to the ring, and the irrepressible Funyon!”

 

Standing in the ring, wearing a crushed velvet suit, Funyon lifts the house microphone to his lips begins to speak. “Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest, scheduled for one fall, is for the SWF UNITED STATES CHAMPIONSHIP!” The crowd in the Fleet Center suddenly erupts as they hear the sounds of Smashing Pumpkins’ “The Everlasting Gaze” blasting through the speakers. Wildchild springs onto the stage, banging his head in time with the music, and posing at the top of the ram for the crowd, before cruising down towards the ring, a blur of aquamarine, black and gold. He hits the ring at a dead run, somersaulting between the bottom and middle ropes and rolling to his feet in the center of the ring. He races to the nearest corner and leaps onto the top turnbuckle in a single motion, raising his arms above his head as the crowd cheers. “Introducing first,” continues Funyon, “in the ring at this time, the Challenger! From Morgan’s Bluff in the Bahamas, weighing two hundred seventeen pounds, the Wiiiiildchiiiiild!” The fans in Boston cheer even louder as Funyon finishes saying his name, showing their support for their favorite Caribbean cruiserweight.

 

“Wildchild has a pretty strong following here in New England,” notes Stevens.

 

“Which only goes to show how hypocritical the fans are,” replies Riley. “This match is for the United States Title, and the last time I checked, the Bahamas is not one of the fifty states! This crowd should be a thousand percent behind Craven here, a good ol’ American boy!”

 

Stevens looks at his broadcast partner as if he had lost his mind. “How many of your yellow pills did you take today?”

 

“Three, why?”

 

Stevens shakes his head. “Nevermind…” Wildchild paces the ring pensively as his music slowly fades out and the arena suddenly goes dark. All is quiet, except for a few scattered boos throughout the audience.

 

BOOM-BOOM BOOM… BOOM!

 

The stage explodes with a pyrotechnical outburst, with smoke billowing in front of the entrance to the stage as a fiery shower falling from above the SmarkTron and a singular blast of pyro lights up the front of the stage in conjunction with the sound of Audioslave’s “Cochise.” The fans in the Fleet Center begin booing in earnest as Craven walks out onto the stage, the United States Title around his waist, and begins posing, flexing his biceps to the crowd vocal disapproval.

 

“And his opponent,” says Funyon, “from Tampa, Florida, weighing two hundred eighty pounds, he is the SWF United States Champion, Michael CRAAAAAVEN!” The Gulf Hurricane struts down towards the ring as the crowd practically roars with its displeasure.

 

“The champion looks confident,” notes Stevens. “I don’t know how much time he got to prepare for this match, given the war he went through at Battleground, but he certainly looks like he has no worries.”

 

“And why should he,” asks Riley as Craven approaches the ring. “Compared to Van Siclen, this kid should be a walk in the park! In fact, if this match goes longer than three minutes, I’ll buy you lunch tomorrow!” Craven climbs the steel stairs and steps into the ring, walking immediately to the corner and climbing onto the second turnbuckle, striking a double biceps pose that causes the crowd to boo him even louder.

 

“I can’t believe these people here in Boston,” mutters Riley. “You would think that they’d show proper respect for a great champion like Michael Craven!”

 

“Well, actually, I would think that these people here in Boston probably think that Craven is kind of a jerk,” replies Stevens, “and they want to see if Wildchild can shut him up!” Craven unhooks the US Title from around his waist, and reluctantly hands it to referee Billy Chioda. The referee holds the belt above his head and displays it for the camera, indicating to both the live crowd and the television audience what is at stake in this match, and then hands the belt to Funyon outside the ring as he orders the timekeeper to ring the bell.

 

“Bell’s gone, and this one’s underway,” says Stevens. Craven and Wildchild circle the ring tentatively before approaching each other in the center of the ring and engaging in a collar-and-elbow tie-up, where the Champion uses his size and strength advantage to force Wildchild into a corner. The referee calls for a clean break, and Craven backs away with his hands over his head, but swings towards the corner with an overhand right punch, only to come up empty as Wildchild ducks underneath the punch and circles behind him.

 

“Both men trying set the tone for the match early on,” remarks Stevens. “Craven demonstrating his superior strength, and Wildchild showing a little bit of the quickness that’s going to give him a chance to win this thing.”

 

The two combatants find themselves drawn into another collar-and-elbow tie-up, and Craven again wins out easily, this time forcing Wildchild to the opposite corner. Once clinched up in the corner, the referee orders another clean break, and Craven again backs away without argument.

 

POP!

 

Craven takes another swing at Wildchild in the corner, and once again the Bahama Bomber ducks out of the way and circles behind Craven, but this time the champion surprises him with a back elbow to the face that sends him staggering backwards!

 

“And there’s the experience factor I spoke about,” says Riley. “Craven allowed Wildchild to believe that he’d fallen for the same trick twice, when he was actually adjusting his game plan, and caught the rookie napping!”

 

With a confident snort, Craven stalks towards Wildchild, reaching his arm out to grab his opponent, when the challenger surprises him by snatching his arm and yanking him off his feet with an armdrag takeover! Craven rolls back to his feet and charges furiously at Wildchild, who drops down to the mat and trips the champion, sending him falling face-first to the canvas with a drop toehold. With blinding speed, Wildchild hops back to his feet and races to the ropes, surging off the ropes and charging Craven before he can even get off his knees, blasting the Freak in the face with a running knee smash!

 

The crowd cheers as the Bahama Bomber pulls the champion to his feet. “Wildchild’s taking Craven apart with his speed so far; if he can keep this us, we could have a new champion!” Wildchild tries to whip Craven into the ropes, but the champion reverses easily. Wildchild leaps into the air as he rebounds and tries to topple Craven with a cross body block, but the Gulf Hurricane catches him in mid-flight. With a cocky smirk on his face, Craven nonchalantly lifts Wildchild above his head in a military press position, and begins performing repetitions, lifting Wildchild up and down above his head.

 

“So much for the speed advantage,” laughs Riley, “Craven is just toying with Wildchild right now!”

 

Wildchild begins to wriggle free as Craven continues to use him for reps, and slips behind him, wrapping his arms around the Chimera’s waist and pushing him towards the ropes. Once against the ropes, Wildchild tries to pull his foe backwards into a rollup, but the Freak holds onto the ropes, causing the tropical tumbler to bounce off, and reflexively handspring to safety.

 

WHAM!

 

Craven charges Wildchild and the challenger easily leapfrogs him, bouncing back into the air the second his feet touch the canvas and flipping backwards to deliver a backflip kick, but the Champion holds onto the ropes, causing him to fall flat onto his face, and as he gets back to his feet, Craven surges at him, knocking on his back with a High Power Forearm Smash!

 

“How do you like THAT speed,” crows Riley. “He just about took his head off with that forearm!”

 

“There’s no doubt about it,” concedes Stevens, “Michael Craven is a phenomenal mix of power and speed going for him; it’s no accident that he’s a multiple-time US Champion.”

 

Craven rolls the still motionless Wildchild onto his stomach and wraps his arms around the rookie’s waist, yanking him forcefully off the canvas and lifting him overhead and back down to the mat with a brutal German suplex! The crowd gasps in horror at the ferocity of the move. The Gulf Hurricane springs back to his feet, shouting at the crowd, “what do you think of that,” but the crowd replies with a loud chorus of boos.

 

“I don’t get this crowd,” says Riley. “What a bunch of poor fans! How can they boo a top-notch athlete like Craven, defending the US Title in the United States? They should be thanking him for the opportunity to see him live! Craven is the best thing to happen to the city of Boston since the Patriots won the Superbowl!”

 

Craven picks Wildchild up and applies an inverted front facelock, grabbing the challenger’s leg with his free arm and lifting him into the air for a reverse suplex, but the Bahama Bomber manages to rotate through it and land behind him, wrapping his arms around the champion’s waist and pulling him backwards into a rollup!

 

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

Craven kicks out fairly easily at two, and rolls onto his knees, but before he can get to his feet, the lightning-quick challenger dives after him, surprising him with an Oklahoma roll that gets another quick cover!

 

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

Craven once again kicks out easily, and this time manages to get to his feet, but Wildchild races to the corner and leaps onto the top turnbuckle, springing off the turnbuckle and landing in a seated position on Craven’s shoulders. Before the Chimera can react, Wildchild falls forward, hooking the Champion’s shoulders with his legs, and trapping him in a victory roll!

 

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

The Freak kicks out with violent authority, and quickly gets to his feet, his eyes blazing with intensity. He is clearly starting to become frustrated as he charges towards Wildchild, and the Caribbean Cruiser takes full advantage of the Champion’s frustration, luring him into an inside cradle!

 

“Small package,” shouts Stevens, as the referee dives into position…

 

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

THR— Kickout!

 

“I tell you what,” says Stevens, “Wildchild’s pulling out all the stops to try to get a quick win here!” The challenger races to the ropes as Craven gets back to his feet, leaping into the air as he rebounds, and landing in a seated position back on the Champion’s shoulders. Wildchild leans forward to attempt another victory roll…

 

 

WHAM!

 

… But this time, the Gulf Hurricane steadies himself and counters the move, driving the Bahama Bomber into the mat with a devastating Electric Chair Drop!

 

“Mercury Rising,” shouts Stevens. “That’ll take some of the starch out of the challenger!”

 

“Beautiful counter by the United States Champion,” adds Riley as Craven catches his breath inside the ring. “And it also shows why Wildchild isn’t going to win this match: lack of experience. He doesn’t have enough sense to know when he’s gone to the well too many times. Just like earlier in the match, when he ate that back elbow. He tries it again with that victory roll, and Craven made him pay for it! You’re not going to catch an experience ring veteran with the same move twice!”

 

Craven picks Wildchild up off the mat, and scoops him easily in his arms. After briefly pausing to taunt the crowd, he lowers the challenger onto his knee, crushing him with a devastating series of rib breakers! He then dumps him unceremoniously on the mat, and applies a cover…

 

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

THRRR— NO! Two count only!

 

Craven drags Wildchild over to the ropes and drapes him face-down over the bottom rope, then uses his foot to press the challenger’s throat into the bottom rope. The referee orders him to relent, but the Chimera continues to choke out his opponent mercilessly!

 

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

THREE!

 

 

 

FOUR!

 

 

Finally, on the count of four, Craven steps away from the ropes, leaving Wildchild sputtering to catch his breath. Without warning, Craven stalks back over to Wildchild and reapplies the choke! The crowd boos incessantly as the referee demands him to break…

 

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

THREE!

 

 

 

FOUR!

 

 

Once again, Craven releases Wildchild from the choke at a four count. He then pulls the challenger away from the ropes for a half-hearted cover…

 

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

THREEEE— KICKOUT!

 

Craven drags Wildchild over to the corner, where he pulls him to his feet, and begins to assault him with a fierce assortment of punches to the head. He whips Wildchild to the opposite end of the ring, slamming Wildchild into the turnbuckle! The Gulf Hurricane takes a few seconds to pose for the crowd, showing off his arms as the begin to chant, “CRAVEN SUCKS! CRAVEN SUCKS!”

 

“I can’t believe that these people have their priorities so far out of whack,” snorts Riley. “Under other circumstances, they’d all be chanting ‘USA,’ but I shouldn’t be surprised that if they could boo a great athlete like Michael Craven, that they’d also forget about loyalty to their country. These people are hypocrites!”

 

“Take it easy there, chief,” says Stevens. “I think you’re just getting wound up because you made a stupid bet, and now you’re going to have to spring for lunch!”

 

“You know what,” replies Riley, “I may have lost that bet, but I will guarantee you that Craven goes on to win this match!”

 

CRASH!

 

The Gulf Hurricane charges into the corner to crush Wildchild, but the challenger dives to safety at the last second, and the Champion crashes into the turnbuckles! As he staggers backwards out of the corner, Wildchild tries to capitalize on his disorientation, rolling him into a school-boy pin!

 

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

THR— KICKOUT!

 

 

WHAM!

 

Craven kicks out with little difficulty, and both men roll to their feet. The Freak, who is still running at a higher energy level, charges Wildchild, knocking the tropical tumbler to the canvas with a stiff clothesline! The crowd boos lustily as the Champion stands over his fallen opponent and covers him with a single foot!

 

 

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

THREEEEE— NO! Two count only!

 

“I can’t believe that Craven thought he was going to get a pin off of that,” says Stevens.

 

“Ah,” replies Riley, “he was just trying to make a statement.”

 

The Chimera lifts Wildchild to his feet and stuns him with a kick to the midsection. “He’s going for the Craven Kick,” shouts Riley, as Craven backs against the ropes. Craven rebounds off the ropes and leaps high into the air, raising his right leg to eye level, but as he tries to lower the boom on the challenger, the Bahama Bomber moves out of the way, and stuns the champion with a kick to the knee!

 

 

BAM!

 

With sudden and desperate surge of energy, Wildchild runs back against the ropes and lunges through the air as he rebounds, blasting the Champion in the temple with a running elbow!

 

 

BAM!

 

The Bahama Bomber scrambles to his feet and runs to the ropes while Craven recovers. The Gulf Hurricane notices the challenger as he rebounds, and rushes forwards with a lariat attempt, but Wildchild easily ducks underneath, and bounces off the opposite ropes, leaping into the air as he rebounds, and knocking Craven to the mat with a flying forearm!

 

“Flying forearm,” confirms Stevens. “That could turn the tide!” Both men lay on the mat trying to gather themselves, and the crowd stomps their feet in support of Wildchild.

 

 

LET’S GO, WILDCHILD! LET’S GO!

 

LET’S GO, WILDCHILD! LET’S GO!

 

LET’S GO, WILDCHILD! LET’S GO!

 

 

Wildchild and Craven roll onto their knees simultaneously, and trade punches as they start to stand up. Craven gets the better of the exchange, and goes for the knockout blow with a huge right haymaker, but Wildchild ducks underneath and runs to the opposite ropes.

 

WHAM!

 

Wildchild rushes Craven at top speed and hooks the Champion’s arms with his own arms and legs, looking for a crucifix pin, but the Chimera holds his ground and lifts Wildchild onto his shoulders, pausing for a moment to sneer at the crowd before flinging his opponent forward, and planting him into the mat with a Samoan Driver!

 

“Craven Driver,” crows Riley. “He planted Wildchild with that Craven Driver!”

 

“That’s gotta do it,” agrees Stevens. “He’s got the win if he wants it!” But, instead of going for the cover, Craven stands up and points to the corner. The crowd begins screaming for Wildchild to get up as the Champion walks to the corner and climbs the turnbuckles.

 

“It looks like he’s going for the Best Damn Finisher… in the WORLD,” shouts Riley. “If he hits this, it’s over!” Craven steadies himself on the top turnbuckle and jeers at the crowd.

 

CRASH!

 

Craven leaps high off the turnbuckle and rotates his body in the air. He points his knees towards Wildchild’s chest as he descends, but crashes painfully into the mat as Wildchild rolls desperately out of the way!

 

LET’S GO WILDCHILD! CLAP-CLAP! CLAP-CLAP-CLAP!

 

LET’S GO WILDCHILD! CLAP-CLAP! CLAP-CLAP-CLAP!

 

LET’S GO WILDCHILD! CLAP-CLAP! CLAP-CLAP-CLAP!

 

LET’S GO WILDCHILD! CLAP-CLAP! CLAP-CLAP-CLAP!

 

 

The crowd rallies behind Wildchild as he crawls over to the ropes and pulls himself to his feet. Leaning heavily against the ropes, the Bahama Bomber screams obscenities at Craven as the Champion gets to his feet, waving his arms as if to challenge him.

 

CRASH!

 

Craven stands up and is infuriated as he sees the defiant challenger against the ropes. Enraged, the Gulf Hurricane charges the ropes, but Wildchild drops down, pulling the top rope with him, and Craven goes stumbling out of the ring, crashing to the arena floor!

 

“Wildchild just turned the tide on the champion,” shouts Stevens. “This is literally anyone’s match now!” Wildchild continues to lie in the ring catching his breath as the champion attempts to recover on the outside.

 

“What do you feel about the match now,” asks Stevens.

 

“Well,” replies Riley, “I give Wildchild credit for surviving this long, but I’m standing by my pick. I don’t think that Wildchild has enough left to put Craven down for the three count!”

 

“I have to disagree,” says Stevens, as Craven starts to pull himself on the ring apron. “I think that whoever’s the first to get in a big move will go home with the title!”

 

BAM!

 

 

As Craven stands up on the ring apron, Wildchild, with an unexpected second wind, races to the corner and leaps onto the top turnbuckle, springing off and towards the Champion on the ring apron, snaring his head in a front facelock and spinning him off the apron, driving him face first into the arena floor with a Tornado DDT!

 

“Dear God,” shouts Stevens. “Tornado DDT to the outside! That’s going to shift the odds decidedly in the challenger’s favor!” The Fleet Center crowd cheers their approval as the Bahama Bomber unleashes a wild howl into the rafters.

 

“Get him in the ring, kid,” scream Stevens. “You can beat him if you get him in the ring!” Wildchild lifts the Champion to his feet and rolls him into the ring, quickly hopping onto the apron and using it to slingshot himself into the ring, landing on Craven with a slingshot Senton splash!

 

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

THREEEEEE— KICKOUT! Craven still has some fight left! Wildchild runs to the corner and leaps onto the top turnbuckle, springing back off without hesitation, and twisting through the air as he descends upon his opponent with a twisting frog splash!

 

 

CRASH!

 

 

… But he comes up empty as the Chimera rolls out of the way! Both men get to their feet slowly, and Craven draws near to Wildchild, taking advantage with a knee into the midsection. He whips Wildchild into the ropes, and rears his arm back to deliver another devastating High Power Forearm Smash, but Wildchild ducks underneath him and runs to the other side, leaping onto the top rope and curling into a ball as he springs off, knocking the off balance Freak to the canvas with his patented pinball attack!

 

“Pinball,” cries Stevens, as Wildchild nips up off the canvas, “and Wildchild just nipped up! And he just gave the sign for the Falling Star Press!”

 

“Get out of the way,” screams Riley desperately as Wildchild runs towards the ropes and leaps onto the top rope…

 

 

SPLASH!

 

Wildchild springs off the top rope and flips forward as he falls backwards, rotating his body through the air as he descends, and crushes Michael Craven beneath him with his patented Falling Star Press! He hooks the leg as referee Billy Chioda slides into position to count the pinfall…

 

 

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

THREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!

 

 

DING! DING! DING!

 

The referee signals to the timekeeper to ring the bell as Funyon rises from his seat, handing the United States Championship to the referee as he lifts the microphone to his lips. “Here is your winner… and NEEEEEEEEW SWF United States Champion, the WIIIIILDCHIIIIILD!” The crowd explodes as “The Everlasting Gaze” begins playing throughout the Fleet Center and the referee hands the US Title to the new champion.

 

 

“What an amazing match,” shouts Stevens. “Wildchild pulled out all the stops, and fought through a dominating performance by Michael Craven to become the new United States Champion! We’ve still got a lot of action to go, ladies and gentlemen, including the return of the Boston Strangler to ring in his hometown! So stay with us, we’ll be right back!”

 

As we:

FADE OUT

[Guest realitycheck]

Commentskis, awaaaaay!

 

I think I spotted the main problem with this match fairly quickly. It's... well, it doesn't have any meat on it. There's no real story to tie the whole thing together, and push the match from start to finish. As it stands, the match just feels like two guys doing move after move. As it is, without any major focal point, it flows choppily and lacks spontaneity.

 

Granted, the licks of an internal storyline were there, with WC escaping Craven's power and trying to end it all with repeated shock pins, but... it wasn't really played up to any satisfaction, imo. Honestly, I find it unusual that you'd have trouble with flow, as it's been abundant in most of your matches I've read/marked.

 

Also, having Riley root on Craven on the basis he's American and WC is not feels... awkward. It's not particularly something I could see Riley picking on, more or less.

 

However, outside of that, your atmosphere/commentary was handled supurbly, and I shouldn't have to say anything about your descriptions. Your finish also felt hot, but it lacked any true build, and so that was kind of wasted.

 

I think your arguably the most talented "pure" writer in the fed, WC, and could easily do great things. So I hope this is of some use.

 

-Z

[Guest TheBostonStrangler]

As the SWF returns from its last commercial break of the evening, the crowd in the Fleetcenter in Boston, Massachusetts is rabid with excitement for tonight’s main event. Before Grand Slam and Riley can speak up, the SmarkTron™ lights up with the words “SUPERIORITY COMPLEX” and “MAGNIFICENT SEVEN” emblazoned across the screen as “Kashmir” kicks up. The song barely begins before the Boston crowd, even more filled with malice than usual, drowns out the guitar with a raucous round of boos. As the boos continue to fill the arena, Tom Flesher steps out onto the platform, with his SWF World Heavyweight title around his waist, and an SWF Referee shirt on his back.

 

Funyon: This match is a HANDICAP MATCH, and it is scheduled for ONE FALL! Introducing first, tonight’s special guest referee, from Buffalo, New York, he is the SWF World Champion, the leader of the Magnificent Seven, and the man who singlehandedly defeated TWO men at Battleground, TOM…….FLESHERRRRRRRR!!!!

 

The crowd continues the booing as Tom makes his way down to the ring, looking briefly at the fans before concentrating on his long walk down to the ring.

 

Grand Slam: Welcome back to SWF Storm, everyone! Bobby, we’ve had one hell of a night, and it’s time for this one to close out in true SWF fashion!

 

Riley: Yep, true SWF fashion: King’s opponent being beaten to a bloody pulp for daring to break rank with him!

 

Grand Slam: The Boston Strangler dared to do just that, and now King’s gonna bully him around, like he always does! Strangler has to face the tag team champions in a handicap match, which is bad enough, but then throwing in Tom Flesher, who is allied with Justice and Rule and a known enemy of Strangler, just makes things even worse!

 

Riley: Hey, Strangler has to learn the hard way! If you fuck with the Suicide King, it’s gonna come back and bite you in the ass! And Mark, if you make a gay joke, I’ll kick your ass. At least come up with an original joke for a change.

 

Before Grand Slam can respond with his witty remark, “Sleep Now In The Fire” by Rage Against the Machine kicks in over the speakers. The Boston crowd responds with another hard round of boos, which draw no reaction from William Hearford and Ejiro Fasaki as they emerge onto the stage. The two men walk through the red pyro exploding on either side of them as the two men, wearing their SWF Tag Team Titles over their right shoulders.

 

Funyon: Introducing first, weighing in at a combined 430 pounds, from the Magnificent Seven, they are the SWF TAG TEAM CHAMPIONS! William Hearford and Ejiro Fasaki…….JUSTICE AND RULE!

 

The two men slide underneath the bottom rope into the ring and get to their feet. They shake hands with Tom Flesher, big grins plastered all over their faces, before they rip the SWF Tag Team Titles off their shoulders and raise them into the air. The crowd continues to heap abuse on the champs as they drop the belts to a ring attendant on the outside, and turn to face each other, going over some last-minute strategy.

 

Grand Slam: This is like a lamb being led to the slaughter! One team just shook hands with the referee like they were best friends!

 

Riley: Oh, stop your bellyaching. Tom Flesher is a paragon of virtue! He will not fail in his sacred duties to uphold the rules and regulations of our fair ring!

 

The lights come up slightly, but still keep the arena somewhat shrouded in darkness. The fans begin to cheer, then go through the roof as “Godzilla” by Blue Oyster Cult begins to play over the speakers. As the guitar kicks in, although the change is barely audible over the Boston crowd’s cheers, the SmarkTron™ lights up with the name “STRANGLER” in big white letters as a massive burst of white pyro explodes from the stage. As the pyro begins to die down, Strangler emerges from the pyro to a renewed burst of enthusiasm from the fans. He looks out at the crowd with a smile plastered across his face. His gaze scans across the arena before locking in on the three men in the ring. The smile disappears as Strangler begins to stalk down the entrance ramp, focused on the Magnificent 7 members.

 

Funyon: And their opponent, weighing in at 303 pounds, from BOSTON, MASSACHUSETTS, he is the BOSTON………….STRRRRRRANGLER!

 

Strangler rolls into the ring as Justice and Rule exit the ring, leaving the Boston Strangler alone with Tom Flesher in the ring. Strangler stares a hole through Tom’s chest before walking toward the ropes and climbing onto the second turnbuckle. He raises both his arms into the air, triggering flashbulbs from his corner. Suddenly, the energy in the arena dies as the Judge and Ejiro Fasaki rush at Strangler from behind. They each drill Strangler across the back with a hard forearm shot, which sends Strangler shooting forward. He struggles to keep his balance on the second turnbuckle, but Judge and Ejiro both grab Strangler by the hair and send him flying backwards to the mat with a loud crash. The crowd boos the pre-match attack as Tom Flesher signals for the bell to get the match underway.

 

DING DING DING!!!!

 

Grand Slam: And here’s a shocker! An illegal, multi-man attack that the referee ignores!

 

Both men begin to stomp away at the grounded Strangler, who does his best to shield himself from the nonstop barrage of kicks. Judge hits Strangler with a particularly hard shot to the head, sending Strangler’s head snapping to the mat. Judge and Ejiro finally halt their massive onslaught, and reach down to pick up the big man. Judge and Ejiro each grab ahold of one arm, and send Strangler shooting towards the ropes. Strangler rebounds off the ropes and comes charging forward, a determined look on his face, but Hearford and Fasaki drop Strangler in his tracks with a double dropkick. Strangler slams to the canvas, with a dazed look on his face. He looks up at the two men, who stare down at the fallen Bostonian, before starting to push himself up to his feet.

 

Riley: Justice and Rule showing why they’re the best tag team in the SWF with this incredible job of dealing with Strangler!

 

Grand Slam: It’s a two on one attack! Strangler can’t fight off two guys at once!

 

Riley: Hey, Strangler earned his spot in this match! This is HIS doing! He’s only getting what he deserves for screwing with the Suicide King’s much-anticipated return to the ring!

 

Strangler fights his way up to his feet, but Judge quickly grabs Strangler’s arms and twists them behind Strangler’s back. Strangler struggles to free himself from Judge’s grasp as Ejiro drills Strangler with a huge knife-edge chop, sending an echo throughout the arena. Ejiro hits Strangler again, then again and again. After the fourth chop, Ejiro readies himself, winding up for a huge chop. Suddenly, Strangler leans backwards slightly and delivers a big boot straight to the face of Ejiro Fasaki, who goes staggering backwards into the ropes. Strangler then frees his arms from Judge before lifting Hearford off the mat by his head. Strangler bends forwards as he sends Judge sliding over his back and to the mat. Judge gets up hurriedly, taken by surprise by the sudden offensive outburst by Strangler. Ejiro Fasaki steps forward and looks at his tag partner. Judge just looks back at Ejiro with a “Well, what do you want ME to do?” look before both men are obliterated by a charging Strangler’s double clothesline. The arena explodes into cheers as Judge Mental rolls out of the ring to the outside while Ejiro Fasaki lies on the canvas, knocked silly by the force of Strangler’s clothesline. Strangler looks at the two stunned members of the Magnificent 7, then looks over at Tom Flesher, who seems awestruck at what he’s just seen.

 

Grand Slam: Justice and Rule might have taken an early lead, but Strangler’s incredible power was enough to overcome the early disadvantage.

 

Riley: Too bad he needs to overcome that disadvantage for the entire match! No way that Strangler can keep things going for that long!

 

Grand Slam: Never say never! Strangler is as powerful as anyone this side of the HVille Thugg! If he does go down, he’s gonna take Justice and Rule with him!

 

Strangler immediately stalks over to Ejiro, who is still lying on the ground, somewhat dazed from the clothesline. Strangler delivers a sharp boot to the upper chest of Ejiro before bending over and yanking Ejiro to his feet in one clean motion. Fasaki offers no resistance as Strangler whips Ejiro into the ropes. Ejiro runs back and ducks under a Strangler clothesline, and bounces off the far ropes. He charges towards Strangler and leaps into the air. He delivers another hard dropkick to the sternum of Strangler, who staggers backwards. Ejiro looks up and sees Strangler still on his feet. He hops to his feet and charges straight at Strangler, hitting him with a hard elbow straight in the jaw. Strangler staggers back once again, but continues to stay on his feet. The fans cheer on Strangler as he shakes his head, and sees Ejiro coming straight at him yet again. Ejiro jumps into the air with an attempt at something resembling a Lou Thesz press, but Strangler easily catches him up against his body before sending him into the ground with a huge spinebuster. Strangler drops to the mat and covers Ejiro as Tom Flesher quickly drops to the mat for the first pinfall of the match.

 

 

ONE!!!!!!!

 

 

 

TW……..

 

 

Riley: And Ejiro easily kicks out! Hey, Mark, did you notice how fair Tom Flesher was there?

 

Grand Slam: We’ll see if that lasts all night, Bobby.

 

Strangler quickly rolls over and gives Tom Flesher a quick glance before returning to Ejiro Fasaki. Ejiro throws a quick punch at Strangler’s jaw, trying to regain control of the match, but Strangler drills him right back. Strangler knees Ejiro in the stomach quickly, doubling Fasaki over before Strangler sends Ejiro straight back to the ground with a hard hammer to the back. Ejiro pushes himself onto his side and starts hoisting himself up in Strangler’s corner. Strangler charges forward and drills Ejiro with a clothesline in the ropes. Fasaki tries to shrug off the attack, but Strangler starts opening up on Ejiro with a barrage of punches to Fasaki’s chest. Ejiro recoils from the rapid-fire burst of punches, then goes flying back into the turnbuckle as Strangler closes with a big right cross to the face.

 

Riley: Closed fists! Closed fists! C’mon Tom, do your job…I’m sorry, Tom. You know I love you! Forgive me!

 

Strangler whips Fasaki across the ring into his own corner, and follows it up with another clothesline in the corner. Fasaki looks over, but Judge is on one knee on the outside. As Judge and Ejiro lock eyes, Strangler grabs Ejiro and drops him to the mat with a falling neckbreaker. Strangler pulls Ejiro out of his corner into the middle of the ring and drops down for the cover.

 

ONE!!!!!!!!

 

 

TWO!!!!!

 

Riley: And another easy kickout! Strangler can’t take out Fasaki with a NECKBREAKER!

 

Grand Slam: Strangler is just making Fasaki work a little bit more! Getting out from under a 300 pounder isn’t an easy thing to do.

 

Riley: That’s what they say about your mom. BURN!

 

Grand Slam: You’re so immature.

 

Strangler looks over at Tom Flesher again before hoisting Ejiro up to his feet. Strangler leads in with another pair of hard punches, and then runs backwards off the ropes. Strangler charges towards Ejiro, who leaps over Strangler and watches the big Bostonian go rebounding off the ropes on the other side of the ring. As Strangler rumbles back towards Fasaki, Ejiro leaps into the air with a spinning heel kick, and gets nothing but air, as Strangler stops short. Ejiro gets his bearings and turns towards Strangler, who grabs Ejiro by the throat, which draws a huge pop from the crowd.

 

Grand Slam: Strangler’s going for the chokeslam early in this one! Plunge time for Fasaki!

 

Strangler drapes Ejiro’s arm over his shoulder, but before he can lift, Tom Flesher barrels in from behind Strangler and delivers a hard chop block to the right leg of Strangler. The crowd boos as Strangler drops Fasaki and goes down to one knee. He pushes himself back up and moves towards Tom Flesher, but Judge comes in from Strangler’s blind side and delivers another hard chop block straight to the back of Strangler’s right knee. Strangler howls in pain and drops back to the one knee again before forcing himself back up to his feet once again. Judge starts to back up towards his corner, drawing Strangler towards him before Ejiro Fasaki comes in and nails a third straight chop block to Strangler’s leg. Strangler goes crashing forward onto his face as the crowd goes silent, surprised to see Strangler equalized.

 

Riley: Strangler took a foolish big chance early on in this match, and now he’s royally screwed!

 

Grand Slam: It sure as hell helped that Tom Flesher, your so-called “paragon of virtue”, decided to attack Strangler from behind when he had Ejiro set up for the Plunge!

 

Riley: Flesher probably just tripped! But even something that would be a mistake from most people turned out to be a truly innovative and successful wrestling maneuver that was immediately copied by his stablemates! Flesher is so good he’s successful when he makes a mistake!

 

Grand Slam: God, you’re so full of crap.

 

Ejiro Fasaki reaches out and tags in Judge as the hushed crowd watches intently. Judge walks into the ring and wastes no time as he stomps away at Strangler’s injured right knee. Strangler screams out as Judge stomps for a second time, sending Strangler’s leg into spasms. Strangler rolls onto his side and starts to pull himself up by the ropes as William Hearford backs up and takes aim at Strangler. As Strangler starts to pull himself up, Ejiro Fasaki sneaks in along the ring apron and sends his knee slamming up into Strangler’s jaw. A small trickle of blood appears at the corner of Strangler’s mouth as he shoots back from the ropes. He starts to pull himself up, his eyes locked on Ejiro. However, Judge blindsides him with another hard forearm shot to the back. Strangler turns around, and gets taken down with a hard double-leg takedown. Ejiro sends a hard kick through the ropes as Judge grabs Strangler’s right leg and lifts it into the air. Strangler winces, then begins to yell from the pain shooting through his knee as Judge locks on the figure four leglock. Strangler immediately grabs the ropes, but Tom Flesher ignores both of Strangler’s hands on the bottom rope as Judge continues to apply pressure to Strangler’s busted right knee.

 

Grand Slam: Now this is totally unconscionable! Strangler obviously has BOTH HANDS on the bottom rope, and Tom Flesher is just ignoring him! This is horribly biased refereeing right here!

 

Riley: Tom is just interpreting the rules as he sees fit! That’s the job as an SWF referee!

 

Grand Slam: As hard as it is to believe, you’re a better announcer than Tom Flesher is a referee!

 

Riley: Well, I am the pinnacle of color commentary, and Tom’s a little out of his element here…although still quite superior than all the other referees. So I’ll take it as a compliment.

 

Judge starts to twist around so that he’s sitting against the turnbuckles in his own corner. Strangler refuses to release his grip on the ropes in the corner of the ring until Ejiro stomps down hard on Strangler’s hands, causing him to lose his grip on the ropes. Tom Flesher looks down, waiting for Strangler to submit, but Strangler sits back and screams out in pain, shaking his head as he refuses to give up. The crowd gets a “LET’S GO STRANGLER *clap clap clapclapclap*” chant going as Judge finally gives up and reaches up, tagging in Ejiro. Judge keeps the Figure Four tightly applied as Ejiro pulls on the ropes before vaulting over them and landing on Strangler’s chest with a vaulting knee drop. Strangler shoots up like he’s been shot in the chest as Hearford untangles himself from Strangler’s massive legs and rolls under the top ropes to the outside.

 

Riley: Now we’re seeing the incredible teamwork from Hearford and Fasaki come into play! Not only is this a handicap match, but Strangler is going up against the most cohesive team in the SWF today!

 

Grand Slam: I’ll give credit where credit is due. Judge and Fasaki are as good a team as there is in the SWF today. However, they’re getting away with everything short of murder in this ring today, and Strangler isn’t even being given a sporting chance!

 

Strangler rolls up and tries to put some weight on his right knee. As he applies pressure, he grimaces heavily, but continues to pull himself up with the ropes. Ejiro stops that as he kicks Strangler’s arms, sending his hands off the ropes. Strangler falls onto his back in the middle of the ring and starts to sit up as Fasaki darts behind Strangler, and then somersaults over Strangler, hitting TBS with a flipping necksnap. Strangler falls onto his back once again as Ejiro Fasaki reaches up and tags Judge in again. Ejiro stomps away at TBS as Judge comes in and immediately grabs ahold of Strangler’s right leg before turning him over into a single leg Boston crab. Fasaki delivers one more kick to Strangler’s face, which increases the flow of blood from the Bostonian’s mouth. Meanwhile, Judge torques Strangler’s leg slightly, bringing a fresh burst of screaming from Strangler.

 

Grand Slam: Strangler is in an incredible amount of pain here!

 

Riley: He’s sure to submit! There’s only so long that somebody can hold out against an onslaught like that, especially from a master of the Boston Crab like the Judge is!

 

Grand Slam: I only remember one instance where the Boston Strangler tapped out, and I don’t think tonight is going to be that second time!

 

Judge pulls back even harder on the knee, but Strangler continues to hang strong, despite Tom Flesher getting in his face, constantly asking if he’s ready to call it quits. Finally, Tom says something to Judge, who releases the hold on Strangler. Strangler breathes a big sigh of relief as his leg falls to the mat and Judge paces around the ring, re-thinking his strategy. Strangler cranes his neck up off the mat and looks around the arena, looking lost in the bright lights. Judge grabs Strangler in a rear waistlock and pulls him up into a standing position before pulling up on Strangler, trying to send Strangler flying with a German suplex. Strangler plants himself on his good left leg and resists Judge’s first attempt, staying firmly planted. The crowd comes alive, but soon go quiet again as Judge manages to get Strangler up the second time and plants him with a German suplex into a bridged pin. Tom Flesher immediately appears and goes down into a count.

 

ONE!!!!!!

 

TWO!!!!!!!

 

THREE!

 

Grand Slam: Strangler kicks out! Riley, that count seemed a little quick to me…

 

Riley: Bah. You were just so entranced by Tom Flesher’s magnificence that you’d think that a 50 count would fly by. Time flies when you’re watching Tom Flesher!

 

Grand Slam: Regardless, I don’t think that this is the best strategy for Judge to take. Trying to out-power Strangler is bound to get him in a LOT of trouble.

 

Judge gets to his feet and claps his hands together in disgust over not getting the pin. He grabs Strangler and pulls him back up to his feet again before positioning himself for a Northern Lights suplex. Strangler manages to free his arms and pushes Judge in the chest, sending him stumbling backwards a few steps. Judge steps forward, but Strangler lifts him high into the air and drops him with a Flapjack straight into his corner. Judge reaches up and tags Ejiro as Strangler pushes himself back up to his feet.

 

Grand Slam: Strangler’s making a comeback! Look out, Justice and Rule!

 

Riley: This comeback is BOUND to be short-lived.

 

Ejiro comes charging into the ring, only to be met with a clothesline from Strangler. Fasaki falls to the mat, only to be leveled with another hard clothesline upon getting up. Strangler goes for a third clothesline, but Ejiro manages to sidestep the blow and grabs ahold of Strangler’s outstretched arm. Fasaki drops Strangler to the mat with an armbar slam, which takes the wind out of the crowd’s sails. Fasaki quickly drops down to the canvas and covers Strangler, with Tom Flesher in position as quickly as possible once again.

 

 

ONE!!!!!

 

TWO!!!!!!

 

THREE!!!!

 

Grand Slam: NO! Another quick count, but Strangler was able to get up before the count!

 

Riley: I’m telling you, Tom isn’t counting fast! He would never cheat!

 

Grand Slam: He’s already cheating repeatedly in this match!

 

Riley: That’s slander, my friend!

 

Ejiro drags TBS up to his feet and puts on a front facelock. Fasaki strains and manages to deliver a snap suplex to Strangler, who falls hard on his head to the mat. Fasaki bounces off the ropes, then rebounds back and delivers a baseball slide dropkick to Strangler’s knee, sending the Bostonian howling in pain yet again. Ejiro looks down and considers continuing, but instead moves to his corner and tags William Hearford back in, who looks ready to go get some revenge against Strangler.

 

Riley: Judge has the eye of the tiger! Strangler won’t even know what hit him!

 

Strangler struggles back up to his feet, still obviously in pain from the constant attacks on his right knee. Judge backs up, then launches himself forward, looking to take Strangler back down to the mat with a hard clothesline. However, Strangler kicks out with his bad right leg, which doubles Judge over in his tracks. Strangler winces from the pain running through his right leg, then steels himself and puts Judge into a double underhook position. Strangler grunts and lifts Judge up onto his shoulder in a Canadian backbreaker position as his right leg trembles underneath him from the weight. Strangler finally falls forward, smashing Judge Mental face-first into the mat with the Guilty Conscience. Judge bounces slightly off the canvas and rolls onto his side, obviously knocked silly by the move. Strangler is motionless for a second as the crowd goes wild, urging Strangler to roll over and make the cover on Judge. Tom Flesher looks conflicted for a second, then drops into position and starts the count, wit h the crowd chanting along.

 

 

ONE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THHHHHHHHHHRRRRRRRRRRRRRREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!

 

 

Grand Slam: Judge kicked out in the nick of time, but Flesher must have taken five seconds to go from two to three on that pinfall attempt! Strangler had that match won cleanly on a bad leg, and Flesher had to insert himself into the match yet again!

 

Riley: This could just be me, Mark, but usually, when there’s a guest ref, they tend to support their friends and stablemates and not help out their allies.

 

Strangler, still bleeding from the mouth, looks up at Tom Flesher, who stares back at Strangler with a cold, heartless look. Judge lies motionless on the ground as Strangler tenderly pushes himself up to his feet. Strangler starts getting in Tom Flesher’s face, although his seemingly animated words are unheard by the camera. Tom bumps Strangler, and responds in kind, with the phrase “washed-up loser” is picked up by the mics ringside. Strangler lowers his head and turns back to Hearford, who is still trying to pick himself up. Suddenly, Strangler whirls and delivers a dead-on right cross to Flesher, drawing a MASSIVE pop from the Boston crowd. Flesher lurches backwards, caught off-guard by the illegal assault, before being decked by another Strangler right cross. Flesher hops right back up and starts to head for the corner, about to call for the bell, but Strangler grabs him by the neck of his shirt, yanking him backwards. Tom Flesher chokes slightly as the shirt presses his Adam’s apple back into his throat before being whirled around into a face-to-face staredown with Strangler. Strangler slams his hand against Tom’s throat before latching on tightly. The crowd continues to explode as Strangler hoists Tom into the air, then grinds him into the mat with the Plunge. Strangler sinks to one knee, in obvious pain, while Flesher, who seems to be in considerably more pain, thrashes about on the canvas.

 

Grand Slam: Strangler just chokeslammed the referee! And not just a referee, but the SWF Champ to boot!

 

Riley: This truly is a day that will live in infamy!

 

The chokeslam to Flesher ignites the crowd into a frenzy as Tom rolls out of the ring, leaving the ring free of authority figures. Ejiro looks over, then rushes into the ring as Judge struggles to get to his feet, still laid out from Strangler’s Guilty Conscience. Ejiro charges straight at Strangler, who sidesteps the attack and tosses Ejiro head-first into the turnbuckle behind him. Ejiro slams into the turnbuckle and staggers back face-first before Strangler locks on a standing sleeper hold. Ejiro struggles to free himself, and even tries to connect with Strangler’s bad right knee, but Strangler shifts his legs, and Ejiro connects with a harmless kick to Strangler’s left leg. Ejiro readies another try to free himself, but Strangler suddenly drops to the mat and drills Ejiro with a sleeper drop. Ejiro rolls out of the ring as Strangler gets up, ignoring the growing pain, and raises both fists to the crowd.

 

Grand Slam: Strangler is really getting going here! Judge and Ejiro are on the ropes!

 

Riley: Ejiro might be, but Hearford is up and well, and he’s right behind Strangler!

 

Strangler turns around, and Hearford wastes no time, applying a ¾ face lock. He sets up for the Surprise Witness, but Strangler firmly plants both hands in the back of William Hearford and pushes, sending Judge flying towards the ropes. Judge rebounds back towards Strangler, who lifts Hearford up with a gorilla press slam. Strangler carries Judge while limping on his injured right knee around the ring as the fans explode, knowing exactly what’s coming. As the flashbulbs begin to explode, Strangler bores Hearford into the canvas with the Boston Massacre. Strangler rolls over and makes the cover as the fans begin to count along!

 

 

ONE!!!!!!!!

 

 

 

TWO!!!!!!!!!!

 

 

 

THREE!!!!!!!!!!

 

 

 

FOUR!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

 

FIVE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

 

Riley: What a moron! Strangler took out the referee earlier with a chokeslam, and now he’s paying for it! There’s no one there to make the cover!

 

Grand Slam: Don’t worry! Here comes SWF senior referee Mark Hebner!

 

Strangler barks at Hebner to count as he sprints into the ring and immediately drops into position. The crowd comes alive again as Strangler once again hooks the leg of the still-motionless Judge.

 

 

 

ONE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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

 

 

NO!!!!!!!!!! Mark Hebner struggles as Tom Flesher, still on the outside, drags Hebner from the ring. The crowd boos with a lust full of rage as Flesher grabs Hebner by the collar of his shirt and drags him over to the ring announcer’s table. Flesher screams something at Hebner as Strangler gets to his feet, extremely pissed off, and walks to the edge of the ring. Flesher grabs a piece of paper from Funyon at the table and walks to the ring apron, where he places the piece of paper and jabs his finger at it. Hebner looks over the piece of paper as the camera zooms in on it, revealing it as the contract for tonight’s main event!

 

Grand Slam: What the hell is Flesher trying to explain away here?

 

Riley: Flesher is brilliant! He’s showing Hebner the stipulations for tonight’s main event! Let me show you! I have a copy of the match listing right here! Boys, bring that up on-screen!

 

After a quick pause, a text box pops up on-screen with the following words:

 

Rules: Judge and Ejiro must tag in and out. Tom Flesher is the ONLY LEGAL REFEREE in this matchup under all circumstances. First pinfall/submission wins. The rules will be enforced as Tom Flesher seems fit.

 

Riley: As you can see, Hebner has as much of a right to decide this match as you do, Grand Slam!

 

Grand Slam: I hate to admit it, but I think that Flesher might be in the right here!

 

Hebner seems to agree, as he shakes his head and starts walking to the back. The fans go off into another round of boos, with a “YOU SCREWED STRANGLER!” chant being directed at Hebner and Flesher. Tom Flesher holds the contract up in the air with a huge grin on his face, egging the crowd on even more. Suddenly, two hands take ahold of Flesher’s short brown hair, drawing a sharp yowl from the SWF Champion. He looks up as the Boston Strangler lifts Tom Flesher onto the apron only by his hair. Flesher screams and tries to escape, but Strangler never loosens his grip, and tosses Flesher over the top rope into the middle of the ring.

 

Grand Slam: Strangler might not have gotten the win, but he seems hell-bent on getting some revenge!

 

Riley: Strangler is attacking the referee AGAIN! This is a heinous violation of the rules!

 

Grand Slam: That contract also said that Tom was to enforce the “rules” as he saw fit! If he’s not doing anything about it, it’s legal!

 

Strangler lifts Tom Flesher up into a gorilla press slam, looking for another Massacre as the crowd goes insane once again. Strangler gets ready to drop Flesher when Ejiro Fasaki comes sprinting in and clotheslines Strangler across his unprotected shoulders. Strangler drops Tom Flesher to the mat as he turns, stunned, and lunges for Ejiro Fasaki. Ejiro bends over and lifts Strangler as best he can into a flapjack, where a revived William Hearford leaps up and locks on a front facelock before DDT’ing him into the mat. Strangler lies motionless on the mat from the Gavel Bang as Judge scurries over and hooks the big man’s right leg for the pinfall, which draws a dazed growl from the big man. Tom Flesher slides over and begins the count.

 

 

 

ONE!!!!!!!!!!!

 

TWO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

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

 

 

DING DING DING!

 

 

Funyon: Your winners, JUSTICE AND RULE!!!!!!!!!!!

 

Grand Slam: That was a fast count, a three-on-one attack, and a heinous injustice of a match! Strangler was definitely the better man tonight!

 

Riley: Hey, Strangler didn’t come out smelling like roses, you know! He attacked a licensed referee AND the SWF Champ twice in the same match! Plus, he didn’t win!

 

Grand Slam: There’s no way that Strangler EVER could have won that match!

 

Riley: Where there’s a will, there’s a way! Strangler just didn’t want it enough!

 

Tom Flesher raises the hands of Ejiro Fasaki and William Hearford in victory as “Sleep Now In The Fire” plays over the Fleetcenter sound system. The fans are either silent or booing as their hometown hero lies on the canvas, totally destroyed. The three members of the Magnificent Seven receive their belts, and celebrate with those in the middle of the ring, still drawing massive heat from the crowds. Justice and Rule exit the ring, with Tom Flesher closely behind them until the Superior One stops, and looks back at Strangler. He takes a few steps back towards Strangler, and grinds the sole of his boot against Strangler’s exposed face. Strangler rolls on his side, trying to protect himself in his weakened state. Flesher lets up on the boot to the face, and quickly drops down, nailing Strangler with a knee drop to the side of the skull. Strangler shudders once, then goes limp again as Tom gets to his feet, picks up his title, and rolls out of the ring, where Hearford and Fasaki are still waiting on him.

 

Grand Slam: Now THAT was uncalled for, Bobby!

 

Riley: Grand Slam, Tom was just making sure that Strangler learned a real lesson tonight! Tom Flesher is the TRUE Superior One, and I don’t think that Boston will forget that anytime soon!

 

Grand Slam: Well, as much as I hate to admit it, Tom Flesher is still our SWF Champ. But with a VERY angry Boston Strangler on his tail, how long can he keep that title?

 

Riley: Forever!

 

Grand Slam: Shut up, Riley! Join us Wednesday on SWF Lockdown! Until then, for Bobby Riley, this is “Grand Slam” Mark Stevens. Goodnight, everybody!

 

The screen fades to black as “Sleep Now In The Fire” continues to blare and the Boston Strangler, still bleeding heavily from the mouth, looks up at the SmarkTron™, with a dazed and confused look on his face.

 

*fade to black*