SWF Lockdown - 5-14-2003

[Guest Grand Slam]

Toronto, Ontario, Canada

 

Deep inside the Air Canada Center, just past the Coke machine and two doors down the sound of someone bridging a deck of cards echo’s out. Scribbled across the door it reads, “SWF Commissioner”

 

Past the door, the Suicide King sits in his oversized black leather chair in front of his deck, holding a cell phone to his ear with his shoulder while shuffling a deck of cards in his hand.

 

“... You heard me right,” shouts the Suicide King, barking out order after order on his cell phone. “I want you to double the security! I want to make sure those two idiots don’t dare screw up my Main Event!”

 

Suddenly, the door to the Suicide King’s office swings wide open, with out even the slightest knock, startling the Gambling Man as two men step through. “What the hell,” he says, quickly spinning around in his chair towards the door as he jumps to his feet, letting his phone slide down to his open hand.

 

“Hey,” says 'Grand Slam' Mark Stevens. “It’s Wildchild and Johnny Dangerous! Wild and Dangerous!”

 

“What the hell are those two doing barging into our beloved commissioner’s office,” snaps Riley. “We’d better listen in!”

 

“Oh,” says King with a slight growl as he eases back into his chair. “What... do you two want?”

 

Johnny steps forward, and brushes his hand across the Suicide King’s desk, clearing a few loose items out of the way for him to brazenly take a seat on the edge of the desk. “See, King.” says Johnny Dangerous as he crosses his leg, while the King looks on with his mouth hanging wide open. Stunned beyond even a response towards Dangerous boldness. “We didn’t want to bother you on Storm as we figured after what happened to you at Battleground... Well, lets just say, I wouldn’t want to be bothered either.”

 

“God damnit,” snaps King, with his finger stuck directly in Johnny’s face, “you better stop while your ahead, Dangerous! I am not in the mood for your smart ass!”

 

“You tell em, King,” cheers Bobby. “Those two goofs don’t know what kind of trouble they’re asking for!”

 

Wildchild speaks up. “Hey, we jus’ want what’s rightfully ours! Johnny an’ me want another shot at Justice an’ Rule.”

 

“And just what makes you morons think you even deserve another shot,” says King.

 

“Didn’t joo see Battleground?”

 

“I know I did,” says Stevens, “and Wild and Dangerous came so very close to winning the Tag Team Championship at Battleground!”

 

“Well,” says Johnny before King can even reply, “he probably can’t remember much after the beating he took.” King’s face turns bright red at that statement. “Let me refresh your memory.”

 

*AHEM!*

 

 

“Battleground,” says Johnny as he tries to give the Suicide King a flashback of what happened, while waving his arm. “It was all down to the wire! Ejiro Fasaki! Wildchild! Struggling at the top of the ladder for the Tag Team Championship. Two men fell... each... with a belt in hand... and somehow... somehow... Justice and Rule walk away with the titles on the account of a technicality. A technicality in a match where the only rule I knew about was; one of us had to grab the titles.”

 

“What the hell are you two trying to pull off here,” asks King. “You think your somehow going to convince me to reverse the decision or something? Well...” almost balking at the thought, “you can just guess again!”

 

“Damn straight,” shouts Bobby, with his nose ten feet up the Suicide King’s ass. “Wild and Dangerous had their shot! They goofed it up, to bad! Thank you, go home!”

 

“Don’t get your panties all tied up in a not there, King,” Johnny replies. “Now if we were Justice and Rule, and had lost the belts the same way we lost the match... you better believe they would be in here with some sort of slow motion video of who actually grabbed the title first. Surely they didn’t both touch the belts at the same fraction of a second? Kind of makes you think there for a second though.

 

“I think I’d like to see that myself,” says Stevens. “He does have a point there. When two racehorses cross the finish line, they don’t just say the horse that was the champ won due to a technicality.”

 

“Johnny and Wildchild may look like two horses asses,” retorts Riley, “but this is hardly the Kentucky Derby, Mark.”

 

“No, but with you around one would think it’s a certain special day in the city of San Francisco.”

 

“No, see, Wildchild and I simply want a rematch. We want Justice and Rule in the ring with the Tag Team Titles on the line, and we want it tonight!”

 

The crowds overjoyed at the thought of a Tag Team Title match between Justice and Rule, and Wild and Dangerous let loose with a tremendous cheer! Wildchild nods with his approval for the match as Johnny gestures with an open hand towards the viewers while eyeing the Suicide King.

 

“Oh, so you want a tag team match, do you,” asks King, standing from his seat. “Well then you shall have it!”

 

“Yes,” cheers Mark. “It looks like Justice and Rule will be defending their belts against Wild and Dangerous! The rematch from Battleground, tonight!”

 

Again a tremendous cheer rises from the crowds inside the arena, watching all this transpire on the SmarkTron. Wildchild and Johnny exchange a brief handshake for a job well done, when...

 

“AHEM!” The Suicide King’s expression changes to that of a conniving son of a bitch as he hunkers down, leaning against his desk and with a smile says, “... But not against Justice and Rule!”

 

“Ha ha,” chuckles Riley. “In your face, Grand Spam! Justice and Rule have much better things to do than smack the shit out of these two again!”

 

Again the crowd’s response can be heard but only this time a rather grueling boo echoes forth. “Tonight, Wild and Dangerous... you two will face off against... Mike Van Siclen and Beezel!”

 

“Whoa,” exclaims Stevens. “King just booked Wild and Dangerous against the undefeated rag-tag team of Mike Van Siclen and Beezel! What a match that will be!”

 

Johnny and Wildchild look towards each other with a raised brow, before Johnny turns back towards King and says, “Mike Van Siclen and Beezel? Are you sure?”

 

“Yeah, I’m sure.” replies King vehemently. Locking his eyes onto the Barracuda, King cocks his head to the side with raised brows and ask, “Problem?”

 

“Nah,” says Johnny as he shakes his head. “That’s not a problem, so long as you realize Justice and Rule’s days as Champions are numbered.”

 

“Whatever... now, get OUT,” barks the Gambling Man with his fiery tongue, pointing towards the door!

 

Johnny looks down onto the Suicide King, still pointing and snarling, then without another word to him, hops off his desk... and slaps over one of King’s trophies.

 

CLINK!

 

“That ungrateful son of a B*BEEP*H,” shouts Bobby Riley. “Johnny Dangerous better get that attitude in check!”

 

“Come on, Wildchild,” calls Johnny, heading towards the door. The King’s eyes follow the pair as they strut out of his office.

 

“And shut the God Damned door!”

 

Which they fail to do, sparking a growl from the Suicide King before he jams his finger into the intercom button.

 

“Talk about rude,” says Riley. “They come in demanding this, demanding that, destroy the helpless Suicide King’s desk, then leave the door open! Where those two born in a freaking barn?”

 

BZZT!

 

“Yes, Mr. Applewhite?” The canned voice of the Suicide King’s personal secretary(and what a good deal the temporary agency gave on this one... SCHWING!) rings out from the intercom as the Gambling Man eases back down into his chair once again.

 

“Cathy,” he says as he leans back in his big leather chair and plops his feet onto the desk. “Get me Justice... and Rule!”

 

“Justice and Rule,” says Stevens, surprised. “What is going to happen tonight?”

 

“I’m not to sure,” Bobby Replies, “but we are just moments away from finding that out! Live on Smarks Wrestling Federation’s Lockdown!”

Edited May 15, 2003 by Grand Slam

[Guest Grand Slam]

The Suicide King walks down the halls in the back of the arena, pleased at the prospect of another successful show. Neilsen taps cleanly to Danny Williams, the Boston Strangler gets his ass handed to him by Justice and Rule, and the two of them get to finish each other of in a Last Man Standing match this evening… it’s almost enough to make him forget about Flesher’s… misstep.

 

Now, if he can just get this last piece of business taken care of tonight, he may have enough time to go out on the town to celebrate before –

 

“BRIAN!”

 

The voice grates on King as he turns around to see Tom Flesher standing before him.

 

“Tom… please don’t call me that.”

 

“I’m just a little concerned. The word in the back is that you’re planning on rewarding Danny and… it’s not that I don’t think he should be rewarded, you understand, it’s just that this match isn’t really what we were planning-”

 

“I don’t have time for this, Tom.” With that, King starts to walk away, but turns his head and says, “Bring your workboots tonight. And don’t worry, Taamo – no matter what anyone says, you’re more than capable of defending that title.” Flesher scowls, and the Suicide King continues walking.

 

 

--

 

 

In the parking lot of the Air Canada Center, Nathaniel Kibagami slams the trunk of his Diablo shut.

 

Now he’s got me flying out to Canada, he thinks as he heads towards the building. Arrogant bastard just won’t take ‘no’ for an answer…best to just get this over and done with, I suppose.

 

As he approaches one of the arena’s entrances, the door abruptly flies open, and the Suicide King burst through it.

 

Great…

 

“Nathan! Glad you could make it,” says the commissioner, false sincerity practically dripping from him.

 

Kibagami snorts. “I’m thrilled to be here. Really.”

 

”I know, I know, it’s a little inconvenient, but I promise you, it’ll be worth the trip.”

 

”I still don’t understand why this couldn’t have been done over the phone.”

 

”Well…” King pauses. “I feel like this should be done face to face, that’s all.”

 

”So help me, if this turns out to be another of your little sales pitches –“

 

”It’s not a sales pitch, Nathan. You have my word.”

 

“Fine.”

 

”Come on, let’s get inside. I have a couple things to attend to around here, but I’ll be with you in my office as soon as I can, all right?”

 

”Not like I have anything better to do. I’ll be waiting for you.” And you’ll probably keep me waiting more than long enough. Asshole.

 

Kibagami follows the commissioner into the building as the screen fades to black…

Edited May 15, 2003 by Grand Slam

[Guest Grand Slam]

“Heaven’s a Lie” by Lacuna Coil begins to chime in as the eager Toronto crowd reacts to it with resounding jeers. Amidst the darkness, the chain-draped Smarktron plays Sean Atlas’ dramatic Crucifix entrance from Battleground, illuminating the set. Then, just as the music climaxes with the growing electric guitar riffs...

 

 

!~BOOM~!

 

 

An immense explosion goes off onstage, leaving behind more smoke that follows the opening fireworks. Through the haze walks the first superstar of the night, the masked man himself, Sean Atlas. The crowd grows more aggressive towards him as he strolls down the ramp, confidence renewed after defeating two SWF Superstars last week.

 

*ding, ding*

 

“The following match is set for one fall! Introducing first, from Chicago, Illinois, weighing in at 240 pounds... SEEEAAAAAAN ATLAS!”

 

During Funboy’s introduction, Sean has made it to the ring, sliding inside as he came near. Posing up against the ropes, he stares out at each side of the Air Canada Center, showing everyone his (covered) face. His music soon fades away, allowing our esteemed announcers to be heard.

 

 

Riley: What a way to kick off the night! No boring promos, just straight up wrestling featuring Sean Atlas!

 

Stevens: But even bigger than that, we’ve got a bona-fide veteran returning to the ring – Longdogger Pete!

 

 

“OH, MY GOD! INCREDIBLE SUPERSTAR!”

 

 

Stevens: And here he comes!

 

 

A white pyrotechnic explosion erupts across the stage filling the arena with even more smoke. To the beats of “Baseline” by Quarashi, the One-Man-Wrecking-Crew steps out through the curtain, setting foot on an SWF stage for the first time in months! He walks down the ring, slowly and deliberately in tune with the music...

 

”Baseline, baseline,

We’ve got fools on the case and their giving me baseline

Baseline, baseline,

Baseline, baseline,

We’ve got fools on the case and their giving me baseline

Baseline, baseline...”

 

“And his opponent, from Miami, Florida, weighing in at 277 pounds, making his SWF return... The One-Man-Wrecking-Crew... LONGDOGGAH PEEETTEEE!

 

Stevens: It feels great to see Pete back again, right where he belongs on the grand stage. For the last year or so, LDP has been a road agent in the Junior League, bringing up some great talent - one of which is his opponent tonight, Sean Atlas.

 

Riley: Both guys are technical marvels and should match up well. The question is, will it be the old-timer or the young buck that’ll have his arm raised when it’s all over? Pete knows Atlas well, having helped develop him in the JL. But how well does Sean know the Doggah?

 

Stevens: We’ll just have to see.

 

 

During that rambling, Pete has made it into the ring, using the closest set of stairs to step inside. Wearing a “Doggah in da House” T-Shirt with black jean-shorts, the knee braces he now wears show he’s an old hand in this business. But despite the braces and the balding blonde hair, Pete’s face looks youthful as ever, excited to get back to doing what he loves most.

 

Once “Baseline” has faded out, the crowd’s excitement is far more noticeable. They applaud Pete vigorously, with a small group in the upper deck chanting “LDP! LDP!” The chant doesn’t really catch on though, as Pete approaches Sean Atlas, greeting the man for the first time since his departure from the SJL. Putting his hand forward, Pete gestures to Atlas to shake it, as any honorable man would do.

 

 

Stevens: I’ve got a bad feeling about this...

 

Riley: Oh come on. This is a student-teacher kind of thing, there’s nothing to be worried about.

 

 

Indeed, Sean takes Pete’s hand in his hand the two shake as a sign of mutual respect for one another. But as LDP pulls away, his judgment of Atlas becomes as cloudy as the smoke-filled arena, and his gesture backfires on him as Atlas refuses to let go, then draws Pete closer and...

 

 

!~SMACK~!

 

 

Stevens: Clothesline! I knew it! That son of a...

 

DING DING DING!

 

Riley: And the match is underway, folks!

 

 

Propping up Longdogger after leveling him to the canvas, Atlas quickly turns the motion into an Irish whip, sending Pete into the ropes. He springs off, adamant for retribution for the cheap lariat that started this off, and sends up a clothesline of his own but Atlas duck under it. Pete continues running, bouncing off the other set of ropes while Atlas comes off those opposite him.

 

They head for a collision in the middle of the ring, prompting Atlas to lower his shoulder as Pete begins to slow down... but isn’t quick enough as Atlas hurls himself into the knees of the One-Man-Wrecking-Crew, spearing him in the legs!

 

 

Stevens: Atlas is taking it to Pete early on here, pounding him into the mat.

 

Riley: Even though Pete’s bigger, he’s also a bit slower, which could work to the masked man’s advantage.

 

 

Coming to his feet, Atlas meets the half standing Longdogger in the spot they collided, then helps him up and proceeds to place him in a front face lock... but Pete powers out of it, clubbing the side of Sean’s head. Standing upright, he continues the assault with multiple right overhand punches, hyping up the crowd! He forces Atlas’ back into a corner, grabs his arm and extends it, then ducks under it and wrenches the arm around...

 

Getting him away from the corner, Pete keeps adding torque on the arm, wrenching it far back enough to cause Atlas to double over. From behind now, LDP reaches through Sean’s legs to grab his other arm, pulls it back, and quickly sets up a Pumphandle. Using both arms he lifts the masked Atlas off the mat and onto his shoulder, then jumps and SLAMS Atlas down with authority! He leans in and uses the opportunity to pin Atlas’ shoulders to the mat...

 

 

...O...N...E...

 

 

...T...W... NO! Atlas quickly kicks out, refusing even a two count so early in the match.

 

 

Stevens: Seemingly, MacDougal is trying to slow the pace of the match down, playing it his way.

 

Riley: You might be right, Mark. But that was still way too early to go for a cover.

 

Stevens: Well, maybe I’m wrong and he’s just trying to get it done as soon as possible. Considering his age and ring rust, a short match is a good match.

 

 

As the sound of disappointment from the fans fades away, Pete gets himself standing while ‘helping’ Atlas to his feet as well. Just as Sean comes up, LDP grabs him around the waist, lifts, the drops him back down onto his kneebrace, colliding with Sean’s tailbone. Atlas backs up, arching his back in pain as he turns around to walk away...

 

But he doesn’t get very far as Pete wraps his arms around Atlas once again and pulls back, elevating the rookie over his head and SLAMS him back down with a German Suplex! He keeps the waistlock on as he stands up, rolling both himself and Atlas into a standing position and once again pops his hips, slamming Sean into the mat with a second German! He continues the assault, following the second Belly-to-Back Suplex with a third, this time letting Atlas go!

 

 

Stevens: Rolling Germans from Longdogger Pete!

 

Riley: Rolling Germans... sounds like a racing team from Berlin.

 

Stevens: A what?

 

Riley: Right over your head, Mark. Rather, right over your cap.

 

 

Pete gets up while Atlas remains on the canvas, rolling around a bit after the multiple suplexes. He looks back up to see someone blocking his light, and that would be an airborne Peter MacDougal, hanging in the space above him with legs extended, trying to hit a legdrop...

 

And Atlas rolls away! The heavy braces on Pete’s legs would have caused far more damage than Sean would like, and he proceeds to attack them. Standing up in time with LDP, Atlas evades an attempted Irish whip and kicks Longdogger in the shin, right below the knee brace. Seeing how it slows down the big fella, Sean kicks him again, this time directly to the back of the leg, in the soft spot behind the knee joint, taking the One-Man-Wrecking-Crew to one leg...

 

 

Stevens: Atlas seems to be going after Pete’s weakest spot – his legs. Chris Wilson ad Perfect Bo, both out of action right now, injured Pete’s legs several months ago, threatening to end his career. It’s hard to watch as this rookie goes after those same limbs now.

 

Riley: Take it easy, Grand Slam, he’s just using a strategy. I was there, and I’ll admit it wasn’t a pretty sight but back in that ring, they’re fair game.

 

 

Atlas waits as Pete stands up. Gauging just how much damage the legs can sustain, he shifts focus and steps to Peter’s side, hooking his foot underneath and falling back to his a Russian Leg Sweep. He comes back up, along with a slower but eager Longdogger and kicks him in the knee again!

 

His temper slowly losing itself, Pete refuses to go down to one knee and instead shows Atlas that his legs are quite useable by thrusting one of them into his midsection... But it backfires as Atlas catches it, holding on to the rim of the knee brace for a better grip. Pete hops on one leg now, ironic in a way, and prepares for the Leg Capture Suplex which he’s seen Sean do for three months in the SJL...

 

 

Stevens: You know this one Pete, you helped him learn so much of his offense...

 

 

But Atlas isn’t after the neck in this match, and instead spins down, rotating around with Longdogger’s foot in his grips, extending his own leg to sweep Pete’s only remaining one out from under him! He takes the Miami Menace to the canvas, dropping him back first as one leg gets swept and the other is left draped over his shoulder.

 

Instantly, he stands up, heads to the ropes in front of him and bounces off, then as he returns to LDP he bends down, grabs on to both feet and flips over, bridging above the body of Peter MacDougal while folding LDP’s in half with the Jackknife Pin...!!

 

 

 

...O...N...E...

 

 

 

 

...T..W...O...

 

 

NO! LDP forces him off!

 

 

Riley: That kind of cover stretches out the opponent’s legs, perfect for what Atlas is trying to accomplish.

 

Stevens: Lucky for Pete, he uses the same pin.

 

 

Standing up, Atlas takes Pete by the hand and gets him standing. Grabbing his other hand, Atlas crossed the two arms in front of Pete’s body, then comes around behind him to put on a Straightjacket hold. He attempts to lift the bigger Doggah off his feet for the Suplex, but Pete fights out of it, getting his hand out of Atlas’ grip...

 

With one arm still in his grasps, Atlas tries to keep it wrapped around Pete’s body and specifically, his neck. He turns his back to Pete’s back, setting up an Immaculate Neckbreaker on the One-Man-Wrecking-Crew... But Pete emphatically prevents it, removing himself from the clutches of his own arm, then drawing Atlas closer with a forceful pull and...

 

...Hits a monstrous clothesline, retaliating for the one Atlas hit to start this match! Instantaneously, Pete falls onto Atlas, driving his elbow into the chest of the masked malice!

 

 

Stevens: There he goes, dropping 277 pounds onto Atlas! That’s the LDP we all know and love.

 

Riley: Love?

 

Stevens: No, Bobbie, not THAT kind of love.

 

 

Pete stands and draws Atlas’ arm up, away from clutching his hurting chest. He gets Atlas standing and whips him off into the ropes. Atlas bounces and continues to run with little regard as to what could happen next. He’s suddenly forced to leave his feet and finds himself falling behind the 6’6” frame of Longdogger Pete, soon to collide with the canvas below...!!

 

 

Stevens: Samoan Drop!!! LDP covers!

 

 

...O...N...E...

 

 

 

 

 

...T...W...O...

 

 

 

 

...T...H...NNNOOOO! Atlas gets a shoulder up!

 

 

Pete gets to his feet as quickly as his legs could get him. Standing over the fallen Sean Atlas, MacDougal drives his boot into the chest of his fallen opponent, stomping his foot against the ribs of the masked man that owns them. Atlas eventually rolls away though, not wanting to suffer any damage to that precious chest. He brings himself up, but only in time to be places in a Front-Face-Lock by the Doggah.

 

In a Suplex attempt, Pete lifts Atlas off the mat... but can’t get him any higher as Sean locked his leg around LDP’s. Fighting and forcing his way out of the face-lock, Atlas sweeps around to the ground behind MacDougal and latches on to his feet, then pulls back, seeping his legs out from under him!

 

 

Riley: A sneaky move by Atlas that almost always works.

 

 

Wasting no time, Atlas lifts Pete off the mat and whips him to the side ropes... but holds on to the arm, snapping LDP right back to him. Pete knows this move all to well though, watching Atlas perform it time and time again in the SJL, and in return tries to prevent the probably Belly-to-Belly Suplex that follows... But Atlas has different ideas and instead, goes to work on the legs lifting them up from under LDP, forces his shoulder in...

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

And SLAMS him down with a Spinebuster! Working incredibly fast, Atlas steps through Pete’s legs, then crosses them and flips the Miami Menace over onto his belly, securing the hold and drawing the legs back for the submission finisher that Pete once told him to learn...

 

 

Riley: THE SHARPSHOOTER!

 

Stevens: SEAN ATLAS HAS THE ONE MAN WRECHING CREW IN THE SHARPSHOOTER!

 

Riley: This is what all the leg work was for, Grand Slam! This is it! The young phenomenon is about to defeat an experienced veteran!

 

 

Grimacing in pain, shrieking in agony, Longdogger Pete fights to keep himself in it... Atlas wrenches his legs back, crossed around his own, striving to keep his feet planted and the ropes out of Pete’s reach... momentary jeering from the Toronto fans has become monumental support for the Miami Menace, optimism for a seasoned veteran with quite a crawl still ahead of him....

 

 

Stevens: Just how long can he hold on? How much does he have left in him, after so many years of experience? Has the time off rejuvenated him so much that he can make it across the ring? Or did it only keep him rusty and aging, deteriorating him as only time can?

 

 

The braces on Pete’s knees provide Atlas with a better grip as he shifts his hands, latching on even more tightly... Longdogger, meanwhile, claws at the canvas, dragging himself with every possible appendage, forcing the ropes to draw near... He lets out a loud shriek when his oppressor jerks his legs back, further causing pain to LDP’s lower back and legs...

 

 

Riley: What would it do for the former Hardcore champion to lose in such a way in his return match? To submit to the same man that he helped develop? He knew it coming in; he knew what kind of a force Sean Atlas can be. If he taps out now, there is no uphill for Peter MacDougal to climb. It’ll be nothing but a steep drop into wrestling obscurity...

 

 

Referee Eddy Long is now in his face, asking if Pete will give up, as if the anguish of his current situation isn’t enough incentive to tap... He ignores the man in the striped shirt and continues to force his way towards the ropes... He makes steady progress, inching his way closer every time... Resistance from Atlas deteriorates, and he is forced to back up to follow Pete and keep the hold on...

 

 

Stevens: But there’s hope yet! He’s over halfway there, weakening the clutches of Sean Atlas, resisting the temptation to give up, refusing to tap out, rejecting any notion that his career is at an end!

 

 

Indeed, MacDougal has made it closer to the wonderful rubber-covered-steel ropes that enclose this combat zone... The very ropes that Pete can so rarely use as a weapon are no within reach... They appear welcoming, like a hand that reaches out to you and grabs hold, saving you from a fall so mortal that you refuse to plummet... And as Pete reaches to that outstretched hand and clutches it like no other, he escapes the threat of such a perilous loss...

 

 

Riley: No...!

 

Stevens: YES! HE DID IT! THE DOGGAH GOT TO THE ROPES!

 

 

Accordingly, referee Long forces Sean Atlas to drop the hold. He does so, albeit reluctantly, standing in the center of the ring surrounded by thousands of joyful Canadians. He leans against his knees, silently thankful for them being in great shape as opposed to Pete’s and waits.

 

He waits as MacDougal drapes himself over each rope, elevating his body higher. He waits while Longdogger tries to build on whatever adrenaline rush he may have inside. He waits, despite the fact that waiting doe shim no end of good. He waits, whilst Pete plants one foot, then another, then stands up right his back turned to Sean Atlas...

 

He stops waiting.

 

 

Stevens: Behind you, Pete!

 

 

Atlas latches on.

 

 

Riley: THE KATAHAJIME! CAN HE LOCK IT IN?!

 

Stevens: He hasn’t done a thing to hurt Pete’s neck!

 

 

And that proves to be his downfall as Pete fights out of it, preventing him from fully locking it in. He turns around and begins a barrage of hard right overhand punches to Atlas’ masked mug, electrifying the crowd once more and he forces Atlas pack with every punch! WHAM, WHAM, WHAM, against the head of the opponent, shifting him across the ring all the way to the other ropes!

 

He shoves Sean into them and whips him across, sending the malevolent Atlas across the ring. Atlas hits the ropes again and springs off, charging back towards the hobbling One-Man-Wrecking-Crew, desperately hoping to level him to the ground...

 

But he meets nothing but the rubber sole of Longdogger’s boot as it collides with his artificial leather face, POUNDING HIM INTO THE CANVAS!

 

 

Stevens: BIG BOOT! A BIT BOOT TO THE FACE OF ATLAS!

 

Riley: HOW in the HELL did he do that?? His legs should have been jelly by now!!

 

Stevens: Apparently there’s far more inside that man’s spirit than you imagine, Bobby. He’s adamant enough to do whatever it takes and win this match!

 

 

Keeping the fans on their feet and the noise level as a sustained high, Pete walks up to Atlas and rolls him onto his front, then lifts him up. Holding him by the arms, LDP raises Sean to his feet, keeping him doubled over the entire time. MacDougal can feel the weak but tense body tremble in his hands, utterly shocked by the swift kick to the face. He almost feels a bit of pity for the man he helped create...

 

 

Riley: It this what I think it is?

 

Stevens: It sure is! THE LONGDOGGER CLOGGER!

 

 

Pete holds Atlas in position, relieved to finally see the light at the end of the tunnel and the win within reach. His knees, so heavily punished for the first time in a long time almost buckle underneath him while he prepares to drive Atlas head into the mat. But in a sudden moment, the feeling of pity he just felt becomes a throbbing feeling of pain as Atlas removes an arm from Pete’s grip and swings it around, driving it directly between the legs of the Longdoggah!

 

 

Stevens: What the...

 

 

He continues the motion though, hooking a leg with that arm and recovering his other arm to pull on Pete’s neck and bring him down, also hooking LDP’s leg with his. He flips the bigger man over and spins around, rolling him up for a cover!

 

 

Riley: INSIDE CRADLE! INSIDE CRADLE!

 

Stevens: But what about the...

 

 

Eddy Long makes the count...

 

 

 

 

...O...N...E...

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

...T...W...O....

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

...T...H...R...E...E...!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

 

DING DING DING!

 

 

Stevens: What the hell was that?

 

 

“The winner of this bout... SEAN ATLAS!”

 

 

Stevens: That’s a blatant low blow! Where was the damn referee?!?!

 

Riley: Cool it, Baseball-boy. That’s no low blow, he was just moving his arm too quickly when trying to hook Pete’s leg!

 

Stevens: Oh of course, and out esteemed and honorable official, Eddy Long, just happened to blink in that one split second?

 

Riley: Maybe.

 

“Heaven’s a Lie” blasts up in the arena once again as Atlas rolls out of the ring, leaving behind a surprised and exhausted Peter MacDougal inside the ring.

 

Riley: Either way, a win is a win and the decision of the referee is final, Mark. You hear that music? That’s the battle hymn of winner.

 

Stevens: I just can’t believe it... It was RIGHT THERE!

 

Riley: So put on an umpire’s uniform and officiate a match yourself, bigshot! Sean Atlas won! Deal with it!

 

Stevens: This is the man that could possibly be the champion of the United States...the US Champion! Representing the US to the world! And you’re OK with that?!

 

Riley: Hey, at least he’ll represent reality...

 

 

Fade out...

[Guest Grand Slam]

“Welcome back to SWF Smarkdown!” exclaims “Grand Slam” Mark Stevens as the show returns from a brief commercial break. “After what was one heck of an opening match, we are just about ready for our Tag Team match up! In just a few moments, the team of Mike Van Siclen and Beezel will be taking on Wild and Dangerous!”

 

“I hope this one is quick,” gripes Bobby, “cause this is going to be one boring match if not! Plus, I don’t get this Wild and Dangerous. They got their asses handed to them by Justice and Rule at Battleground and then they go whining to the Commissioner about a rematch!”

 

“What’s not to get,” questions Stevens. “Justice and Rule have the Tag Team Championship belts, and held on to them by the skin of their teeth at Battleground! I think Wild and Dangerous feel if they had just one more shot, they could defeat the seemingly unstoppable team of Justice and Rule!”

 

“Well,” scoffs Riley, “Wild and Dangerous better think again. There is a reason we call Justice and Rule unstoppable, after all.”

 

“At any rate,” begins Mark, “I for one am anxious to get this one started, so let’s take it to Funyon.”

 

“Ladies and Gentlemen,” bellows Funyon from inside the ring. “The following contest schedule for one fall, will be a Tag Team Match!”

 

“I ain't fakin, I'll bring home the turkey if you bring home the bacon!”

 

 

BOOOOM!

 

 

As the voice of Rivers Cuomo’s belts out “El Scorcho” a large red pyrotechnic flash BLAST across the stage and fades in an instant, leaving the flame-covered Beezel and Mike Van Siclen standing in the smoky aftermath! Beezel gets the crowd to their feet as they sing along in unison with the now familiar chorus as he walks towards the ring with Mike Van Siclen in tow.

 

“I'm a lot like you! So please... hello? I'm here, I'm waaaaaiting!”

 

“I think I'd be good for you! And you, would be good for me!”

 

“Now entering the ring at a combined weight of four hundred forty two pounds, I give you.... Mike Van Siclen and Beezel... VAAAAAN SCORCHOOOO!”

 

“Van Scorcho?” says Riley, confused. “Where did Funyon get that from?”

 

“That Funyon,” chuckles Mark, “always trying to jazz everything up. At any rate, the last time we saw these two in action they faced off against Janus and Michael Craven, and came away with the surprising victory. It will be interesting if they can pull another win out of this one and go on a two win streak for the team!”

 

“You just have to constantly remind everyone don’t you?”

 

The lights dim as a flood of multicolored lights begin to dance across the arena, while at the same time 50 cent’s “In Da Club” instrumental remix pounds from the speakers! Not a second goes by before the crowds let out a tremendous ovation, standing on their feet and dancing in the isles!

 

“WILD!”

 

“DANGEROUS!”

 

The names burn across the SmarkTron, mixed with some of the teams in ring action as the dynamic duo finally slides out from behind the curtains with their arms raised out to their fans!

 

“Now making their way to the ring,” bellows Funyon, “weighing in at a combined weight of four hundred twenty seven pounds, they are WIIIILD AAAAAAD DANGEROUS!”

 

“Good, God.” mutters Riley. “Can’t any of these people get a decent entrance these days?”

 

After finally making it to the ring, both teams eagerly prepare to square off. Beezel elects Mike Van Siclen to lead the charge while he hangs out on the apron, and on the other side of the ring, the Wildchild steps in to kick this one off.

 

“And it looks like these two teams are ready to go!” says Stevens as Referee Anthony Michael Hall signals for the bell.

 

DING! DING! DING!

 

Wildchild and Van Siclen circle each other before engaging in the center of the ring; Mike leans forward to initiate a collar-and-elbow tie-up, but Wildchild ducks behind him and hooks his arm inside Mike’s leg as he falls to the mat, surprising him with a quick rollup!

 

 

ONE!

 

But Mike isn’t even remotely ready to call it a day, and counters the rollup by grabbing Wildchild’s arm and shifts to his side, straightening his legs as he tries to trap Wildchild in a cross-arm breaker, but the Bahama Bomber rolls onto his shoulders and uses a handspring to escape before Van Siclen can lock it in. He puts some distance between himself and his opponent, and shakes out his arm while Mike gets to his feet.

 

“Mike Van Siclen and Wildchild each looking to try and surprise the other with a quick strike,” notes Stevens. “Looks like they’re both going to try and regroup here.”

 

Wildchild and Van Siclen approach each other again, and this time do meet in the center of the ring in a collar-and-elbow tie-up, one which the tropical tumbler quickly takes advantage of by dropping down towards the canvas and taking Mike over with an armdrag. Wildchild raises his hands to the crowd to pump them up as both men roll to their feet. They approach the center of the ring to lock up again, and Wildchild tries to surprise Mike with another quick armdrag takeover, but this time, the Spectacular One maintains his balance, and shifts his entire body forward as Wildchild drops to the mat, so that he ends up squatting above Wildchild while still holding on to his arm! Van Siclen pulls Wildchild’s arm across his own throat, and reaches for the other arm as the Caribbean Cruiser waves his arm about frantically in a desperate attempt to avoid Mike’s grasp.

 

“He’s going for the Clutch,” shouts Riley. “He’s trying to end it right now!”

 

But, Mike never manages to completely get his feet set, and before he can lock in the Cardinal Sin Clutch, Wildchild manages to roll onto his stomach and uses his free hand to repeatedly smash Van Siclen in the face, until he gets his other arm free, and hooks both his arms behind Mike knees, causing him to fall forward, and reverses into a makeshift ankle lock!

 

“What a spectacular series of counters by both individuals,” remarks Stevens, as Van Siclen reaches the ropes. “I think Wildchild took Mike Van Siclen by surprise with that last counter!”

 

“I’ll be honest,” add Riley, as both men in the ring make a clean break on the referee’s orders, “I didn’t think Wildchild had it in him; I’d heard that he stumbled into an ankle lock by accident in the JL, but I figured it was just a rumor.”

 

Mike Van Siclen and Wildchild stare at each other from opposite ends of the ring, with Wildchild shaking out his tender shoulder while Mike waves his arms through the air to pump the crowd, almost as if in mockery of Wildchild, who responds with his trademark grin. Instead of trying to lock up again, however, both men retreat to their respective corners, never taking their eyes off each other as they tag in their partners.

 

“Tag made on both sides,” notes Stevens, “and Beezel and Johnny Dangerous will see their first action in this match.”

 

Beezel claps his hands in the air to pump the crowd up as he and Johnny circle each other in the ring. As the fans in the Air Canada Center build their excitement to a fever pitch, Johnny and Beezel approach in the center of the ring, settling on a collar-and-elbow tie-up, which Beezel quickly shifts into a side headlock. Johnny backs him against the ropes and pushes him away to the other side. Johnny spins around and swings his leg into the air to catch the rebounding Beezel with a crescent kick, but El Scorcho slides underneath him and springs back to his feet on the other side. The Barracuda reacts quickly and scoops Beezel up off the canvas, lifting him into the air for a possible press slam, but Beezel slips free and lands on his feet behind Johnny, trapping him in a waistlock and pushing him towards the ropes. Once Beezel feels Johnny’s body pressed against the ropes, he falls backwards to try to take him over in a rollup, but the Barracuda hangs onto the top rope, and Beezel rolls away empty handed. Johnny charges Beezel, who leapfrogs over him and runs to the far ropes as soon as his feet touch the mat. Johnny hits the ropes, but comes to a stop as he sees Beezel coming from the opposite side of the ring, and takes him over with a textbook hiptoss! Johnny moves in to pick Beezel up off the mat, but El Scorcho reaches up and grabs the Secret Agent by his shirt, flipping him over onto the mat. Both men nip up to their feet simultaneously, and stare at each other as the crowd breaks into applause.

 

“Wow,” says Stevens admirably, “the fans have really been treated to some exciting wrestling so far in this match, and these two teams haven’t really even gotten going yet!” In the ring, a suitably impressed Beezel extends his arm in a sportsmanlike gesture, and Johnny gives him a brief handshake before they start to circle each other again. The two combatants approach each other, and Beezel takes advantage by grabbing his arm and ducking behind him, applying a hammerlock. Johnny clutches his shoulder, trying to free himself, and manages to reverse the hold, ducking behind Beezel into a hammerlock of his own. El Scorcho reaches up and behind him, grabbing Johnny by the back of the head, and pulling down, forcing the Barracuda to snap his body back up out of reflex. Still holding onto Johnny’s head, Beezel uses his momentum to launch himself into the air, and puts all his weight forward as he drops back down, sending Johnny tumbling with a snapmare takeover.

 

WHACK!

 

Johnny rolls through the snapmare a springs back to his feet, running against the ropes as Beezel begins to stand up, and drops him straight back to the canvas with a stunning clothesline! Johnny pulls Beezel to his feet and applies an arm wringer, then leads him over to his corner, where he makes the tag to Wildchild. Wildchild grabs onto the top rope and uses it to propel himself into the ring, landing perched on the second turnbuckle in his team’s corner, and immediately springing off, twisting in mid-air and smashing Beezel’s outstretched arm with a double axe handle!

 

“Tag is made, and Wildchild comes back in,” reports Stevens. “I can’t wait to see these two get it on!”

 

Taking control of the arm wringer away from Johnny, Wildchild transitions into a wristlock and suddenly takes off like a shot, leading Beezel to the corner, where he climbs up the turnbuckles, and alights upon the top rope. Running out to the middle of the top rope, Wildchild suddenly leaps into the air towards the center of the ring, and takes Beezel over with a scintillating armdrag!

 

“Wildchild showing his balance and agility with his trademark ropewalk,” notes Stevens, “and finishing off with a beautiful armdrag!”

 

“He’ll never be taken seriously as long as he bases his offense around crap like that,” snorts Riley.

 

Wildchild pulls Beezel to his feet and leads him over to Wild and Dangerous’ corner, where he tags his partner in. They each grab one of El Scorcho’s arms and whip him towards the far ropes, meeting him as he rebounds, and sending him flying through the air with a double hiptoss!

 

“And Wild and Dangerous are the first team to work in a double-team,” notes Stevens. “Bobby, I’m predicting that the team to work in the most tandem moves will have the decisive advantage in this match.”

 

“You figured that all by yourself, did you, Mr. MOTO,” replies Riley with a sneer. “Of course, the tag team that works together the best is going to have an advantage over the other team. As much as I dislike Beezel and Van Siclen, however, I’ve got to root for them in this match, just because I want to see them teach Wild and Dangerous a lesson for disrespecting the King like that!”

 

Johnny pulls Beezel to his feet and whips him towards the ropes, but El Scorcho reverses and leapfrogs the Barracuda as he rebounds. Johnny runs to the opposite ropes and Beezel leaps into the air again as he makes his second rebound, but Johnny catches him in midair and brings him down into a stunning Manhattan Drop! Johnny backs away to build up a head of steam as Beezel is clutching his privates in pain, and charges the flame-covered enigma, flooring him with a crushing lariat! Johnny falls atop Beezel for a cover…

 

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

THR— KICKOUT!

 

Johnny drags Beezel back to his corner and tags Wildchild back in. The two of them double-whip Beezel into a neutral corner and Johnny follows him in with a clothesline!

 

SPLASH!

 

Johnny is barely able to move out of the way before Wildchild charges into the corner, leaping into the air and twisting his body around, before coming down on Beezel in the corner with a full body splash!

 

“Blue Crush,” cries Stevens. “This could do it!” Wildchild pulls Beezel out of the corner and drops him to the mat as he falls atop him for the cover…

 

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

THREEEEEEE— Mike Van Siclen makes the save!

 

“It’s a good thing Van Siclen had the presence of mind to break up that count,” remarks Stevens, as the referee orders Mike to return to his corner, “or this match could be over!” Wildchild gets to his feet and goes over to Van Scorcho’s corner, looking to confront the Spectacular One, but Mike just raises his hands above his head in a placating manner, and looks at Wildchild as if to say, “who, me?”

 

“Look out, Wildchild,” warns Stevens, “Van Siclen’s just stalling for his partner!”

 

 

WHAM!

 

Wildchild turns his attention back towards the middle of the ring, but too late to avoid a kick to the midsection by El Scorcho, followed by a stunning DDT! Wildchild falls onto his back and Beezel crawls over to him to make a cover…

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

THREEEE— Kickout!

 

“Wildchild just barely avoided being pinned by that DDT,” notes Stevens.

 

Beezel pulls Wildchild to his feet and whips him towards the ropes, but the Caribbean Cruiser reverses and sends Beezel in instead. Wildchild puts his head to deliver a back body drop to Beezel as he rebounds off the ropes, but the flame-covered star has the move well scouted, and stuns Wildchild with a double axe-handle.

 

SMACK!

 

As Wildchild stands up, clutching his back in pain, Beezel runs back to the ropes and charges Wildchild, dropping him to the canvas with a back elbow smash! He staggers over to his corner and makes the tag to Mike Van Siclen.

 

“Tag is made,” reports Riley, “and now we’ll get to see what Wildchild is made of!”

 

Mike climbs to the top turnbuckle upon receipt of the tag and, with his back to the ring, points down towards his opponent.

 

“What the hell are you doing,” screams Riley. “You’ve already got him down! You don’t need to try anything stupid!” Mike makes a gun with his fingers and points it at his head, inciting the crowd to squeal excitedly, before leaping backwards off the turnbuckle! Van Siclen flips backwards through the air into the ring to deliver a moonsault press…

 

 

CRASH!

 

 

… That misses! Wildchild just manages to roll out of the way as the Spectacular One crashes chest-first into the canvas.

 

“Van Siclen went for it all on that moonsault,” cries Stevens, “but nobody home! Wildchild had just enough left in the tank to roll out of the way.”

 

“But Mike Van Siclen is still relatively fresh,” replies Riley, “and Wildchild is still seeing stars, so Van Siclen still has the opportunity to take control here!”

 

Clutching his midsection, Mike slowly gets to his feet and shuffles over to the still unmoving Wildchild, pulling him to his feet. With a firm grip on Wildchild’s arm, Van Siclen slings him towards the far ropes then takes off for the opposite ropes himself. The two rebound at the same instant, and come rocketing towards each other - Van Siclen with his arm cocked back and ready to pummel the Bahama Bomber while Wildchild heads towards the collision completely out of his element! Mike takes a mighty swing with his arm, but the nimble Wildchild quickly comes back to life, ducking down and shooting right under his arm and onto the ropes!

 

“Nobody home,” says Stevens. “Lucky for Wildchild he was able to duck or his head just might have gone flying into the grand stands!”

 

“Oh, and believe me,” says Riley smugly, “I would of been there ready to catch THAT fly ball.”

 

Again the pair both lunges into the ropes and come storming back across the ring right towards each other! This time however, Mike lowers himself down a bit as he charges forward, just incase the Caribbean cruises under his arm, only this time he won’t miss! Both men launch forward with their bodily weapons - Van Siclen the arm - Wildchild the leg - and SLAM into the other’s, popping both men into the air ever so briefly before the crash and burn into the canvas!

 

WHAM!!

 

“BOTH MEN ARE DOWN,” cries Stevens. “Can you believe the SIZE of that impact? It almost looked like two seven-forty-sevens collided in mid air!”

 

“If only those two planes were carrying all four of these wankers,” mutters Riley.

 

Lying flat on their backs in the middle of the ring, both men lie motionless, unable to move a muscle as the Referee slides in and almost immediately utilizes the count out.

 

“ONE,” he cries out as he thrusts both of his arms high into the air, while the two remain completely still.

 

“Man,” says Bobby, “these fools knocked each other straight the (expletive deleted) OUT!”

 

“Real mature their, Bobby, real mature...”

 

On the appropriate corner turnbuckles, Johnny Dangerous and Beezel begin to get a little anxious, cheering and smacking their hands into the top of the turnbuckle as the crowd begins to grow with excitement!

 

“TWO!”

 

Again no one moves, and the count continues...

 

“THREE!”

 

 

“FOUR!”

 

The crowd’s energy level grows even more, cheering loud enough to wake the dead as they stand to their feet waving their arms and just about anything not nailed down about!

 

“FIVE!”

 

“GRAH! HACK!”

 

With a loud cough followed by a slight convulsion, Mike Van Siclen comes back to life, seemingly awaked from his permanent slumber by the adoring masses. Slowly but surely he rolls over onto his back, and begins on the long stretch home - to the eagerly awaiting Beezel for a tag!

 

“SIX!”

 

“Ha!” shouts Stevens. “Mike Van Siclen is still in this game! If he can get to Beezel before it’s too late, they just might be able to capitalize with a win here tonight, which could have some serious lasting effects on Wild and Dangerous!”

 

“SEVEN!”

 

The Referee’s count continues for the still idle Wildchild. That is until the Bahama Bomber himself finally begins to move, just a skip and a beat behind the Spectacular One, ending the Referee’s count out.

 

“What a copy cat,” moans Riley.

 

The two men begin to crawl towards their respective corners, pushing aside all the pain that runs so rampant in their veins as they drag themselves closer to their partners. The momentum in the crowds has built to an ultimate high, cheering ever so loudly for their favorite of the bunch to make the tag, and as both men stretch forward… and slap their partner’s hand in unison, the fans simply EXPLODE!

 

SMACK!

 

“Both these men just made the tag.” notes Stevens as Johnny Dangerous and Beezel both come roaring into the ring, fully recharged and ready to go! “This match may be down to the two of them, because I’m not sure if either Wildchild or Mike Van Siclen can even muster up anymore of a fight out of themselves!”

 

Johnny draws back his arm, balls up his fist... and SWINGS for Beezel’s head like a piñata, but El Scorcho quickly throws his forearm up to block the attempt and rockets his own fist back into the Barracuda’s brains!

 

WHACK!

 

Stammering a step back from the unexpected blow, Johnny has no time at all to even THINK about reacting before Beezel steps forward, and fires a second shot right between the eyes! This time Johnny is knocked more than a single step back, but before he can trip over his own two feet, El Scorcho sinks his claws into Dangerous and flings him towards the ropes!

 

“Beezel has quickly taken this match by it’s reigns, and has full control over Johnny Dangerous.” remarks Stevens as the Barracuda hits the ropes, and springs off them, charging straight for his flame covered opponent, while Beezel lowers his head, preparing to deliver a back body drop...

 

CRACK!

 

“He telegraphed that one straight to Johnny Dangerous!” says Stevens, when Johnny puts on the breaks to come to a rather sudden halt and snaps the toe of his foot into Beezel’s head, jolting El Scorcho’s head back! “And he may have just passed those reigns onto Johnny.”

 

Instinctively, Beezel’s hands rise up to cover his face as he spins around and stumbles away from Dangerous. Johnny takes a step back, preparing to launch himself into the ropes, and slingshot his body towards Beezel, when out of nowhere a pair of hands clasps around his waist, lifts him up... and SLAMS him into the mat with a quick German Suplex!

 

“Mike Van Siclen with a surprise attack on Johnny Dangerous!” says Mark. “I didn’t see that one coming!”

 

“That’s because you’re half blind to begin with, Mark,” says Riley, finally breaking his oath of silence. “I mean if you could see straight, you would see exactly what I see in people like... Oh, I don’t know. Tom Flesher?”

 

“Jesus Christ, Bobby. Now is not the time.”

 

A second after Johnny collides with the mat, Wildchild comes rocketing out of the turnbuckle and sinks a foot deep into Beezel’s gut, doubling him over in an instant!

 

“Wildchild’s going for the Wild Ride!” cries Mark as the Bahama Bomber straddles over El Scorcho’s head, reaches behind him and hooks onto Beezel’s arms, and in one swift fluid motion, rolls El Scorcho onto his back, lifts up-

 

“-and if he gets this off, Mike Van Siclen and Beezel just might have to take a loss!”

 

“Maybe not, Mark!” shouts Riley, excitedly pointing towards the stage. “Look, It’s Justice and Rule!”

 

Sure enough, the devilish team of the Judge William Hearford and Ejiro Fasaki, better know to the booing masses as Justice and Rule come storming down the ramp like a heard of elephants! The eyes of Wildchild widen a mile as he catches sight of the intruders. Lucky for him, he has ample time to release his hold on Beezel, letting his opponent slump to the mat just as both members of Justice and Rule slide into the ring and make a beeline straight for the Wild One!

 

Wildchild races forward as he draws back his fist, and swings for Fasaki as he sees the white of his eye, nailing him right in the eye! Quickly, Wildchild spins around towards Judge but it’s too late.

 

WHAM! WHAM! WHAM!

 

Hearford nails not just one, or even two shots to Wildchild’s head but three in a row, which knock the Bahama Bomber back into the ropes! Seeing that this match can no longer continue, the Referee signals for the bell then makes for high ground... or low ground rather as he slides out of the ring and hides behind Funyon.

 

DING! DING! DING!

 

“SO YOU WANT A SHOT AT US?” shouts Hearford, a mere inch from Wildchild’s face. “WELL THIS IS IT!”

 

WHAM!

 

“Justice and Rule are here to right all wrongs!” cheers Bobby. “That’ll teach those Wild and Dangerous clowns to dare make such a bold accusation about the champs!”

 

“This isn’t right!” shouts Stevens. “Two on one... Wait... here comes Johnny Dangerous!”

 

Johnny charges in towards Judge, ready to level him like a wrecking ball, only to be caught before hand by Ejiro with a quick Russian Leg Sweep that puts the Barracuda flat on his back! Quickly, Johnny begins to jump back to his feet, but Fasaki is already puts a stop to that with a stiff lighting quick elbow drop to his neck!

 

WHACK!

 

The beating continues with Justice and Rule seemingly gaining the upper hand with their surprise attack, while on the far side of the ring Beezel and Mike Van Siclen pull themselves back to their feet. For a moment they simply watch amid a furry of boo’s tearing through the crowds... then the flame-covered Beezel straightens up shedding himself of the matches drain on his body as he looks towards his partner, Mike Van Siclen... and nods.

 

“Somebody stop this madness!” cries Stevens, focusing all his attention on Justice and Rule’s beat down. “This is completely out of control! Justice and Rule ruined what was a perfectly clean and wholesome match, just to silence a potential contender to their titles!”

 

“Oh, quit your bitching, Mark!” shouts Bobby, happily. “Your just mad because Wild and Dangerous are getting exactly what they asked for, and they aren’t going to come out on top! Not this time, not by a long shoot! Woot! Go Justice! Go Rule!”

 

Just before Bobby can break out the pompoms, Beezel and Mike Van Siclen charge towards Ejiro Fasaki and absolutely level the unsuspecting Rule with a double team clothesline, igniting a thunderous cheer from the fans!

 

“WHAT THE HELL,” screams Bobby. “Those cheating little pecker heads! They are trying to put Justice and Rule at a disadvantage!”

 

Beezel and Van Siclen prepare to make the charge towards Judge, but Hearford is no fool. The second he sees Ejiro fall he high tails it straight out of the ring, reaching back in to grab Ejiro and drag him out of harms way!

 

“And Justice and Rule are out of there!” says Stevens.

 

The pair slinks back up the ramp, holding their heads and cursing towards all four men inside the ring. Mike Van Siclen, Beezel, Johnny Dangerous, and Wildchild. All of them stand at the front of the ring daring the Tag Team Champions to step back their way.

 

“Well that’s the end of this match,” says Stevens. “I’m not exactly sure what’s going on here, but maybe we will find back after a these few announcements from our sponsors.”

 

As we:

FADE OUT

[Guest Grand Slam]

FADE IN:

 

Mike Van Siclen, Wild and Dangerous, and Beezel stand in the middle of the ring. The masked high flier paces back and forth inside the ring, microphone in hand.

 

"What the hell is going on?" asks Riley, irate, "Beezel and Siclen have no right interrupting the feud between the tag champs, and the two tagging chumps!"

 

"Regardless of your spin on the teams, I think El Scorcho is about to let us in on things," notes Stevens.

 

The masked man stares towards the entrance ramp, prepared to rant to men who are no longer there.

 

"How DARE you!" yells Beezel in his robotically masked voice, "This is how the Magnificent Seven fight, eh? Take them out before they can fight you fair. Well no dice, for you weren't counting on their opponents to be on their side!"

 

The crowd applaudes lightly, not sure what to make of the mystery man's outburst of anger.

 

"Well listen up, and take notes my children. Justice and Rule were given test number one and they failed miserably! Tempted with the opportunity to attack your foes behind your back and you strike," seethes Beezel, "Well, NO LONGER! From now on, every man in this ring watches each other's back! From now on, every man in this ring will make sure no more sneak attacks will be sprung by the Magnificent Seven!"

 

Wild and Dangerous nod from behind the masked man as Mike Van Siclen looks towards the back menacingly.

 

"Bold statements being made by El Scorcho, but what does this all mean?" asks Stevens.

 

"We are watching, Justice and Rule. We are watching, Janus. We are watching, Atlas. And most of all, we are watching, Tom Flesher. You will want to attack behind our backs but we won't let you. You will want to lie and decieve to succeed but we won't let you. You will want to destroy us but you won't be able to! We will be your opposites, your shadows, and your antithesis! We will exist as a contradicion, a separation... because we ARE: Catch-22!" exclaims Beezel excitedly, as the crowd catches on, "Justice and Rule, meet your opposites, members three and four: Wild and Dangerous!"

 

Beezel points towards the tag team behind him, who raise their fists in the air in confidence of their future victory. The crowd roars approval at the grouping appearing before their eyes.

 

"Gaze, fellow enemies at member number two, the man skyrocketing up the roster as a man to beat: member number two, the Spectacle, MIKE VAN SICLEN!" exclaims Beezel as the crowd yells even louder at their approval.

 

"Oh no," moans Riley, "Don't tell me we're about to see another 'I hate Flesher' club. These twits can't deal with success..."

 

"Shut up Bobby, I want to hear this," snaps Stevens.

 

"And YOU Tom Flesher. I suspect you know who I am. No matter. I have grouped around me a crack team of wrestlers that are just as hell bent as I to see your destruction. You and I have a past, Friend Flesher, that is true. You and I, complete opposites. Some theorize that without evil, there is no good, and I might believe that myself. Without our shared past, I know now that I would never be the force of good that I am. The contradiction lives now, but this Catch-22 will end with our four on top. With us successful in brining honor and respect to this federation! NO-ONE, not even the great Tom Flesher can stop it! Glory Be!" screams El Scorcho, spiking the microphone towards the mat as his emotions overtake him. The rest of the team yells out their support as the masked man finishes his rant.

 

"Things have just picked up!" exclaims Stevens, "A new faction to fight the Magnificent Seven has arrived, headed up by El Scorcho! Who is the masked man, and what about this shared past? Perhaps with their backs protected, Wild and Dangerous can finally get the elusive win over Justice and Rule!"

 

"Or perhaps this will flop just like everyone else trying to take down the Magnificent Seven," says Riley, "Flesher is not amused, I'm sure."

 

"Well regardless, there's even more action coming up tonight, stay tuned!" yells Stevens.

[Guest Grand Slam]

SLAM!

 

The Suicide King barges through the door to his office to find Nathaniel Kibagami with his back to the door, leaning casually back in his chair, Doc Martens propped up on the commissioner’s makeshift desk.

 

“What the hell are you doing?!?”

 

Kibagami grins. “You said to make myself comfortable.” He shifts a little in his chair, being careful not to remove his feet from the desk. “This is comfortable.”

 

King brushes past Nathan, pushing his feet off the desk as he crosses the room. “Get those off of there,” he mutters as he seats himself at his desk. “Now then,” says King as he pulls a bottle of water out of his desk drawer, “What, specifically, can I do for you?”

 

”We’ve been over this,” sighs Nathan. “My contract expires in August. I’m not cleared to wrestle, and I want out of my contract now. You’ve got no reason to keep me here, and I’ve got no reason to stay. So if you could just give me my release, I’ll be out of your hair.” Kibagami pauses for a moment, then puts his feet back up on the commissioner’s desk and leans back in his chair, a slight smile on his face. “And out of your office, too.”

 

“Well, Nathan, I suppose you’re right. I suppose I should let you go, because I can’t stand you anyway.” The Suicide King takes a long swig of his water before continuing. “You’re a self-absorbed, arrogant little shit, and you’ve been nothing but a detriment to this federation since the day we signed you. You’re injury prone, you’re prone to injuring the people you work with, and you’ve got it into your thick head that you can come and go as you please.”

 

“Beautiful speech, Brian, but I’m really not in the mood –“

 

”You’ve never done anything to justify that smartass attitude of yours, and to be honest, if it weren’t for you, I would still have the biggest draw this company’s seen since Rane on the roster. Anybody in their right mind would fire you at the first opportunity and never think twice about it.”

 

King pauses for a moment.

 

“But if I were a gambling man, I might reconsider.”

 

A snicker escapes Nathaniel. “Come on, Brian, you know better –“

 

”Don’t call me that.”

 

” –I’m not some fourteen year-old kid who’s going to cheer for a catch phrase. I’m not coming back.”

 

The commissioner raises his hands defensively. “Wait a minute, wait a minute. Just hear me out, here.” He pulls his chair a little closer to the desk. “I saw the way the crowd reacted to you when you came down to the ring at Battleground. I heard them cheering every time you hit Janus with your cane. I watched an arena full of people chant your name when that music hit the speakers, and I know you saw it too. Tell me, Nathan, honestly. Did you ever think people would cheer for that cane of yours?”

 

”That has nothing to do with this. I am not coming back, for the fans or for you. I’m done, King, whether you want to accept that or not.”

 

“You’re not done until Edwin comes back, and you know it.”

 

”He’s not coming back.”

 

“I know that.”

 

”Then why bring it up?”

 

“Because you can do the next best thing to beating him.”

 

”And what’s that?”

 

King leans in closer. “Replace him.”

 

”Jesus Christ! Have you lost your mind?”

 

”Have you?” King gestures towards Nathan’s dyed-red hair, his ladder-laced Doc Martens. “You’ve thought of it yourself, obviously. Is it so hard to believe that you could do it? MacPhisto loved to be in the spotlight, regardless of what he was doing while he was in it. You take that spotlight, you might as well kick him in the face. It’s the least you could do after all the trouble you’ve caused around here, and besides…aren’t you curious to see if you could do it?”

 

Kibagami smiles a little. “Tempting, yes. But no.” He takes his feet off the desk and rises to his feet. “I’m not coming back, King, no matter how hard you try and change my mind. I have my health to think of now, and I’ve got work to do back home.”

 

”Wait a minute, just…”

 

”Just hear you out? I think I already did.” Nathan nods to his commissioner and turns towards the door. “I’ll see you around, Brian.”

 

Before Kibagami can walk through the door, the Suicide King bolts out of his chair, an enraged expression on his face.

 

“Goddamn it, you headstrong son of a bitch!”

 

”Don’t waste your breath, Brian.”

 

”So help me God, if you don’t wrestle on Smarkdown, I will send Janus after Angel.”

 

Nathaniel stops in the doorway to King’s office.

 

“Don’t be stupid, Brian.”

 

“Oh, I’m dead serious.” The commissioner walks out from behind his desk. “I tried to convince you, but no, you’ve got to play hardball, just like always. Well, that’s fine with me, son, because I’m going to win this game. You think Janus will just go away? Oh, no. He’s taken a liking to you after that little stunt you pulled on my pay-per-view. You forget about all the wonderful information I have regarding all of our employees. Phone numbers, relatives, addresses…I can afford to lose Janus for a week or three so he can go pay a visit to your little whore, and I’m positive he’ll find a way to –“

 

King is cut off in mid-sentence as Kibagami turns, grabs the commissioner by his shirt, and slams him back into the wall of the office. “You know something?” he breathes, inches from King’s face, “I’m almost [positive I can be fired for killing my boss, don’t you think?”

 

”Do what you want,” laughs King, “But ten minutes after you finish with me, you’ll have to deal with that big Australian bastard. And I am the only thing that’s standing between you and him right now. Take your hands off my shirt, and I’ll make you a deal. This damn thing cost more than you do.”

 

Nathaniel grudgingly releases the commissioner. “Let’s hear it.”

 

“At 13th Hour, there’s going to be a match between you and Janus.” King smoothes his shirt out a little, an expression of disdain on his face. “There will be no interference, because that’s what the people want to see, but it will also be no disqualification, because frankly, I don’t give a damn what happens to you after this match is out of the way. In the meantime, you’ll wrestle a full schedule. I’ll make sure Janus stays away from you, and I’ll make doubly sure he stays away from Aechiba. Do we have a deal?”

 

”There’s a problem. I’m not cleared to wrestle.”

 

”You can get cleared and you know it. Go see Andrea, she’ll take care of things. Now, do we have a deal?” The Gambling Man extends his hand, a triumphant smile on his face. Nathaniel gives it a quick shake.

 

“Good!” says the commissioner. “You’ll have a match with the Judge on Smarkdown, then. Try not to get hurt; I need you healthy for 13th Hour.”

 

Kibagami scowls. “Whatever. You wanted me here, you’ve got me.” Nathaniel turns on his heel and walks out the door.

 

“I hope you know exactly what that entails,” he mutters on his way out the door…

[Guest Grand Slam]

Stevens: "Welcome back to this latest addition of SWF Lockdown!"

 

The Air Canada Centre is full to the rafters with yelling fans. The usual see of signs from the fans show up as the camera pans around the arena before settling on the commentary position.

 

Riley: "Janus gets to fight the same man twice in the row. Just another chance for him to leave Dace Night in a pool of his own blood. With Jay Dawg in there was well, there's no way Dace will be winning this one."

 

Stevens: "You've said that one before and been wrong. I think all Janus has given Dace is more motivation. I can't see Jay Dawg teaming up with either man in this match, so it'll be three on three all the way through."

 

Riley: "Three on three, nice idea there Mark."

 

The ever stylish Funyon steps into the centre of the ring, to a background of Canada flags waved by the fans.

 

Funyon: "Ladies and Gentlemen, the following match will be Triple Threat Hardcore with One Fall! For the SWF HGC Title!"

 

YYYYAAAAAHHHH!

 

Riley: "Listen to that lot. You'd think we where down in Philli."

 

Stevens: "Well it is the ten year anniversary of Viking Hall, so I think it's a good sign that Hardcore is going strong."

 

As if on queue, the camera shows one huge sign held up in the front row reading:

 

'TEN YEARS OF FUCKING HARDCORE!"

 

Barring the names of hardcore feds from ECW to XPW to CZW to others, and the fans wear the same t shirts.

 

Riley: "Once again, this isn't damn Philli!"

 

Funyon: "Introducing firstly from Sydney, Australia! Weighing in at three hundred and fifty pounds, he is ... THE HEEL MACHINE ... THE HARDCORE GAMERS' CHAMPION .. JJAANNNUUSSS!"

 

"Consumed with memories...

That preceded today...

Given a chance to bereave..

Life that's slipping AWAAAAAAAAAAAY!!"

 

Resurrection screams out across the fans.

 

BBBBOOOOOOOOO!

 

Blue pyro lights up the now black arena as Janus steps out onto the ramp. Striding down the ramp, with an ever present scowl on his face, the Heel Machine is followed by waves of blue pyro.

 

Stepping into the ring over the ropes with any stretch, he raises his arms up to the rafters, bringing on one last burst of pyro as the lights go back on. Tossing the belt to the Time Keeper, he waits.

 

 

Funyon: "Secondly, from Vancouver! He weighs in at two hundred and forty three pounds he is ... THE HARDCORE MANIAC .. JAMIE 'JAY DAWG' DRRAAZZOONNN!"

 

"THIS

 

IS

 

MAH

 

HOUSE!!"

 

The lights go out after a hail of fireworks, then Du Hust kicks ringing across the building. Making his way down the ramp, with an empty smile on his face.

 

BBBBBBOOOOOOOOOOO!

 

Stopping short of the ring, Jay Dawg cracks his neck and looks up at the towering figure of Janus in the ring, thinking it better to wait before getting in there with the giant.

 

Funyon: "Finally, from Birmingham, England! Weighing in at two hundred and fifty four pounds he is ... DACE 'HORRORCORE' NIGGGHHHTTT!"

 

The lights fade, then a burst of black pyro explodes from the ramp as Fuel For Hatred screams into life. A ring of purple and red lights focuses on entrance way.

 

Stepping out, his face bowed and hidden, upper body bare, carrying a large bag in his hands, Dace slowly walks down towards Jay Dawg and Janus.

 

Dumping the bag on the floor at the bottom of the ramp, he looks up showing his scarred face.

 

RRRAAAAAHHHHH! The roar of the crowd is a mangled mix of cheers and screams.

 

Stevens: "My god! Dace literally has revenge written on his face!"

 

Riley: "I have to congratulate Janus on the number he did to Dace's face. About time he learnt the price you pay for hardcore."

 

A nervous looking Hebner calls for the bell.

 

DING, DING, DING!

 

Drazon lunges forwards at Dace but kicks nothing but thin air. Dropping to his knees, Dace opens the bag and pulls something out, as the Hardcore Maniac wheels around for him. As Janus climbs over the ropes to the floor, Dace sends his arm rocketing forwards into Drazon's face.

 

RRRRAAAAAHHHHH!

 

Swinging around, Night cracks Janus in the head as well.

 

RRRRAAAAAAHHHH!

 

Stevens: "Lightbulb shots to Jay Dawg and Janus!"

 

Emptying out the bag, Dace grabs up the other lightbulb tubes and lets loose, smashing them over his opponents heads.

 

SMASH! SMASH! SMASH!

 

HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT!

 

Taking hold of Drazon by his throat, the Goth scoops him, hauling him overhead into the air. Throwing him like a sack of potatoes, Dace sends him sailing over the security barrier and into the rapidly emptied row of chairs with a crash! With a smile across his scarred face, Dace turns back towards the giant Janus.

 

SMACK!

 

Bleeding and enraged, the Aussie tries to make a perfected imprint of head on steel, with a chair shot that almost knocks Dace over the barrier. With a mind only to cause extreme bodily harm, Janus locks one hand around Night's throat, picks him up almost effortlessly. Turning on his heel, Janus sends Dace plummeting down into the steel ramp.

 

SMACK!

 

HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT!

 

Stevens: "Chokeslam on the ramp! Janus broke the damn ramp!"

 

Riley: "Look at that Mark, look at that creator around Dace's body, he's dead! This one is over already!"

 

Hebner scrambles out of the ring to the ramp as Janus makes a cover.

 

......ONE!

 

 

 

......TWO!

 

 

 

 

 

......1/4!

 

 

 

YYYYAAAAAAHHHHH!

 

Stevens: "No! Jaw Dawg breaks up with a Swandive Headbutt from the barrier, right onto Janus!"

 

Riley: "This is gonna be a complete clusterfuck. I love it."

 

With Dace impacted in the ramp, Drazon drags the dazed Janus back down the ramp. Pulling him up by his air, Jay Dawg spins on one foot and tries to smash the giant jaw off with a Spin Kick. Following through, he launches a barrage of stiff kicks to the chest, the smacks ringing out across the crowd.

 

Even under the rain of kicks, Janus slowly rises to his feet, walking right through the blows, standing up to his full height, but before he can attack, the fire goes out as Drazon just kicks him in the nuts.

 

BBBOOOOO!

 

Teetering on the brink of falling over, Janus rocks and slowly slumps forwards, into the waiting arms of the Hardcore Maniac. Pulling the Giant into a Standing Headscissors, Jay Dawg locks his arms, and with a huge grunt of effort shifts the bulk off the Aussie off his feet and up. Not risking trying to hold the giant up, Drazon drops back, Piledriving Janus on the floor.

 

Stevens: "Piledriver on the floor! They're trying to kill each other!"

 

Riley: "Well, Dace brought lightbulbs into this one. After that Rage Unleashed on the floor last week, and now the Chokeslam on the ramp, I hope he's dead."

 

Backing up along the floor, Drazon leans forwards, slapping his right leg, motioning for Janus to get up. Pressing himself up on his arms, Janus grabs onto the side of the apron to drag himself up, as Jay Dawg charges down ringside with a yell.

 

SMACK!

 

OOOOHHHHHHHH!

 

Planting one foot on Janus' knee, the other gets caught in the giants right hand, stopping the Shinning Black dead. Swinging Drazon by his leg, Janus slams him into the ring apron. Getting back to his feet, the Aussie scoops the Maniac up onto his shoulders. Looking at the glass dust and splinters on the floor, he turns and drops.

 

Driving Jamie onto the remains of the lightbulb tubes with a DVD. With both men now bleeding from their backs, landing on the glass, Janus shrugs it off, once again back to his feet, his sheer size allowing him to ignore the glass digging into his body. But Drazon is tough as old boots, and starts to stagger back to his feet.

 

CRACK!

 

To have his face introduce to the ring post via Janus' over powering hand. Wrapping Jay Dawg up in a Front Facelock, Janus grabs his tights and lifts him up off the floor, dropping back at the same time, spiking Drazon on the floor with an Implant DDT.

 

AAAAHHHHHH!

 

Stevens: "High Angle DDT on the floor by Janus. Dace is still down and out on the ramp. With these guts willing to do this to each other in and outside of the ring, it's not going to be over until they can't move anymore."

 

 

Riley: "Which is what I like to see. All we need know is a little more of Dace getting beaten up and bleeding. Hell, he did all that shit to his face, he must like it that way."

 

Janus pins the Hardcore Maniac to the floor with one huge hand.

 

......ONE!

 

 

 

......TWO!

 

 

 

......1/4!

 

 

 

......1/2!

 

Kickout!

 

YYYYAAAAAAHHHH!

 

Not wanting to lose his advantage, Janus works his huge arms under JD's shoulders, into a Full Nelson.

 

Stevens: "Full Nelson Suplex on the floor coming up."

 

But the fire goes out once again as JD swings his leg backwards, between Janus' legs and into his groin with another Low Blow.

 

Staggering backward, holding his jewels, Janus tries to stay upright, as Drazon leans on the apron, trying to get his breath. The Heel Machine then gets firmly reminded that pay backs is one evil bitch.

 

A pair of arms lock themselves around his waist, and before he can react, Janus is picked up and flung backwards over head onto the steel ramp.

 

SMACK!

 

AAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

 

Stevens: "Release German Suplex on the ramp!"

 

HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT!

 

Stevens: "Dace just German Janus onto the steel ramp and left a creator like a meteor impact!"

 

Riley: "No way! No way can he do that. He'll pay for that. Janus will kill him... just as soon as he gets up."

 

Arms held high in the air, Dace turns round, in the air of cheering fans..

 

CRACK!

 

Jay Dawg doesn't give him any time at all for celebration and sends Dace sprawling along the floor with a Thai Roundhouse Kick. Following after Night, JD grabs the barrier for support and starts to stomp away on the Goth's head and body. Turning away, Drazon reaches under the ring, pulling out a steel chair.

 

Rushing to his feet, Dace dives forwards, tackling Jay Dawg's legs out from under him and dropping him to the floor. Standing over him, Dace grabs his hips and tries to dead lift the Hardcore Maniac up for a Powerbomb, but gets cut off as Drazon kicks one leg free and boots Dace in the face.

 

Picking up the chair from his side, Drazon lunges forwards, slamming it home into Dace Night's head.

 

CRACK!

 

CRACK!

 

One more shot on the way down for good measure. Dropping the chair of Dace's chest, Drazon climbs the barrier like early in the match and prepares to fly. Extending his arms, he jumps up, somersaulting his body forms and down onto the prone Goth.

 

SMACK!

 

Who moves at the last second to avoid the Somersault Senton and JD connects with nothing but the hard floor. Now Dace leans forwards, waving Jay Dawg to get back to his feet. The crowd rises up in anticipation.

 

Stevens: "Somersault Senton of the barrier, but JD misses, that's the price you pay for trying his risk moves in a match like this one."

 

Riley: "You don't see Janus missing moves like that now do you."

 

Stevens: "Well, right now Riley... I don't think I'll bother."

 

Drazon rolls back to his feet, and Night throws the chair through the air towards his head. Not catching it, Drazon simply ducks under it and pops his head back up.

 

CRACK!

 

YYYYYYYAAAAAHHHH!

 

Stevens: "Yakuza Kick!"

 

Now Dace reaches under the ring, and pulls out something that causes a roar from the fans... Barbed Wire.

 

WE WANT BLOOD! WE WANT BLOOD! WE WANT BLOOD!

 

Taking the chair in his other hand, Dace advance on Janus, who is still in the creator in the ramp.

Whipping the Barbed Wire down, he sends it ripping into the giants chest. Janus' eyes light up in pain and the sleeping giant awakens. Forcing himself up from the pit, Janus roars at Dace, who even now it stepping back.

 

Stretching to his full height, Janus sends one massive arm lunging down towards Night, but he ducks and brings the chair arching round.

 

SMACK!

 

Driving the Barbed Wire even deeper into Janus' chest, as he stumbles back with a howl of pain.

 

SMACK!

 

Once again Dace uses the chair to impale the Barbed Wire into Aussie flesh. Turning to turn the tables, Janus encircles Dace with his two huge arms, wrapping him in a Bearhug.

 

OOOOHHHHHHH!

 

Stevens: "Dace tries to drive the Barbed Wire into Janus' chest like a stake into the ground."

 

Riley: "Ouch, but now Dace is paying for it in that Bearhug. With the Barbed Wire, it's going to be shredding his chest wide open, but with Janus' size he can just suck it."

 

Stevens: "Let's not start about sucking things up ok Riley."

 

Blood pours down both men's legs, dripping onto the ramp. Dace thrashes around wildly, trying to escape the crushing, vice like grip of the Aussie Giant.

 

CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!

 

Three stiff and skull ringing Elbow Smashes impact on the side of Janus' head in an effort to break free.

 

CRACK!

 

Janus sags to his knees, his grip weakening as the Goth forces his way out, breaking away. Then has to take payback of his own. From behind him, Jay Dawg spins him around, hammers a boot into his ribs, then Drazon locks his arms around Dace's body and throws him overhead with a Belly to Belly Suplex.

 

SMACK!

 

Off the ramp and down onto the concert floor at the side.

 

WE FELT THAT ONE! WE FELT THAT ONE!

 

Stevens: "Belly to Belly off the ramp onto the concert! That's got to be all for Dace on this one, he's staying down."

 

Seeing Janus down on his knees again, JD doesn't hesitate and breaks into a full speed charge up the ramp. One foot on Janus' knee and the other foot, straight into the huge Aussie hand, just like last time, but this time, Drazon swings out his free leg, sending it cracking into the back of Janus' head.

 

OOOOOHHH!

 

Rolling to his feet behind the Heel Machine, the Hardcore Maniac pulls Janus backwards, sweeping his leg and dropping the giant back on the ramp with a Side Russian Leg Sweep. The sound of bones ringing of steel echoes around the arena.

 

THIS IS HARDCORE! THIS IS HARDCORE!

 

Wrapping his hand around Janus' throat, Drazon starts to choke the air out of him. Struggling free, Janus rams his huge fists into Jamie's mid section, driving the wind out of his lungs. Sitting back up, even as JD tries to keep the Chokehold applied.

 

One last slugging fist sends Drazon staggering away. Rolling to his feet, Janus bounds forwards like a sprinter out of the starting blocks, snow ploughing through Jay Dawg, tackling him down the ramp and skidding to a halt in the two holes in the ramp made by Janus' and Dace's impacts.

 

Stevens: "Gore! Gore! GORREEE!"

 

Rolling onto his back, Janus covers the gasping Drazon.

 

......ONE!

 

 

 

......TWO!

 

 

 

......1/4!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

......1/2!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

......3/4!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

.......9/10!

 

 

 

 

 

....Kickout!

 

RRRRAAAAHHHHH!

 

Lurching off towards the reach, Janus ducks under the apron and pulls out a table.

 

YYYYAAAAAHHH!

 

WE WANT TABLES! CLAP! CLAP! CLAP! WE WANT TABLES! CLAP! CLAP! CLAP!

 

Sliding it under the bottom rope into the ring, the Heel Machine swings back towards the groggy and dazed Jamie Drazon. Dragging the Hardcore Maniac back towards the ring, Janus points up and over into the ring. Hauling JD to his feet. Scooping him up, the Heel Machine pressed Jay Dawg high overhead and throws him over the top rope and into the ring with a thud.

 

Riley: "See the power of Janus right there Mark. Throwing JD back into the ring from the floor outside. That's why he's the Hardcore Champ."

 

Hauling himself up on the apron and following JD over the top rope, Janus re enters the ring. Picking Drazon up from the mat, he whips him across the ring into the ropes. Drazon comes flying back across the ring into the waiting arms of the Aussie Giant. Scooping JD up abd spinning him around, Janus drives to the mat, slamming him down.

 

Stevens: "Tilt A Whirl Slam, Janus firmly in control of this match."

 

With Jay Dawg laid out in the middle of the ring, Janus takes a chance to fire up the crowd. Twisting his hand round and pulling it to his ear, Janus points to Jay Dawg on the mat. Backing up into the ropes, Janus bounced back and drops a huge leg across JD's head and throat.

 

BBBBBBBOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

 

Riley: "Yet they cheer when some washed up bag of bones does that move."

 

Stevens: "Ahem brotha!"

 

Getting the table from the corner of the ring, Janus pulls out one set of legs and leans it up against the top rope, in the middle of the ropes.

 

Stevens: "Looks like Janus is make a ramp or something like that."

 

Pressing the table to make sure it stays in place, the Aussie once more drags JD up by his arm. Facing the away from the table, Janus turns and whips Drazon at it, before slamming on the breaks and pulling him back into a giant boot.

 

Ducking on sheer instance, Drazon dodges the boot, and spinning on his heel, hammers a Reverse Spin Kick into the giants jaw, toppling him backwards onto the set up table. Charging into the ropes, Jay Dawg barrels back and full speed, leaps through the air and dives into Janus and table.

 

CRACK!

 

HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT!

 

Stevens: "JD with a running dive, putting the Heel Machine through the table!"

 

Riley: "It's a mangled wreck of bodies out there. The only thing that gets more ratings that his is a Tom Flesher himself!"

 

Even as the fans chant and call on, a hand reaches up from beside the ramp as Dace Night drags himself up onto the ramp. Hauling himself up to his feet, bleeding like everyone else, the Goth starts towards the ring.

 

RRRRAAAAHHHHH!

 

Pulling yet another table out from under the ring, Dace slides under the ropes into the ring with it.

 

Setting it up on one side of the ring, Dace pulls Drazon up from the wreckage of bodies and tables. Slapping on a Front Facelock, Dace hauls him into the air by his tights, then throwing his feet out, drops back, spiking JD on his neck.

 

Quickly back to his feet, Dace points to the table, and then to Janus.

 

YYYYAAAAAHHHH!

 

Stevens: "Dace is going to put Janus through the table!"

 

Riley: "He's never do it."

 

Even as the Aussie is pulling himself back up, Dace rams a knee into his groin out of spit then unleashes a flurry of Elbow Smashes.

 

CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!

 

Pulling the reeling and dazed giant across the ring to the table, Dace pulls him into a Stand Headscissors. Locking his arms around Janus' waist Horrorcore takes huge deep breaths, digging down with everything he's got, as he tries to pick up three hundred and fifty pounds for a Powerbomb.

 

Still winded after yet another Low Blow, Janus just tries to hand on and keep his feet on the mat, but even with his size, Dace digs his heels down into the mat, and pulling, pulling, gets Janus up off the mat. Not just a few inches, but all the way and overhead onto his shoulder.

 

OOOOHHHHHHHH!

 

Then sends the Heel Machine rocketing down, crashing through the table with ring shacking force.

 

DACE F'N' NIGHT! DACE F'N' NIGHT! DACE F'N' NIGHT!

 

Stevens: "Powerbomb through the table!"

 

Riley: "No damn it no! How did he do that, how?"

 

Collapsing along side the body of Janus, Dace can't even roll over to make the cover.

 

Stevens: "Well, he's paying for it Riley, Dace Night can't even roll over to make the cover that one took so much out of him."

 

GET THE FUCK UP! GET THE FUCK UP! GET THE FUCK UP!

 

Riley: "These Canadians really are foul mouthed hicks you know that Mark. No manners at all."

 

STOMP! STOMP! STOMP!

 

One last gasp and Dace rolls over, draping one arm around Janus' chest.

 

YYYYAAAAAAHHH!

 

......ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

......TWO!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

......1/4!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

......1/2!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

......3/4!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

.......9/10!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

.......NO!

 

BBBBBBBOOOOOOOOOO!

 

Stevens: "Drazon breaks it up! He breaks it up at the last moment!"

 

Riley: "Yes!"

 

Even as Dace rolls away, Jay Dawg is after him, locking on a martial arts style Facelock, Drazon lifts him up by the choke and snaps him back to the mat with the JD DDT! Rolling back, with Night's leg locked between his hands, JD makes the cover.

 

......ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

......TWO!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

......1/4!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

......1/2!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

......3/4!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

.......9/10!

Kickout!

 

YYYYYAAAAAAHHHH!

 

Adrenaline pumping, mind racing, the Hardcore Maniac sends himself sprinting backwards with the kickout, and as Dace rises up from the mat, comes flying back, and this time, he connects with the boot.

 

RRRRAAAAAHHHHHH!

 

Stevens: "Shinning Black! Jay Dawg connects with it!"

 

Riley: "We're gonna have a new champion right now!"

 

Slumping down across the unmoving Dace, Drazon makes the cover.

 

......ONE!

 

 

 

 

......TWO!

 

 

 

 

 

......1/4!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

......1/2!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

......3/4!

 

YYYYYAAAAAHHHHH!

 

Looking around in shock, Drazon tries to see what's happening.

 

Stevens: "Janus just pulled Hebner away from the count, breaking it up. He's still in this one and fighting!"

 

Riley: "He's the Heel Machine Mark, he's not going down so easily. He's keep hold of his title yet."

 

Twisting on his feet, Drazon once again tries to smash a jaw with his Thai Spin Kick, but it thuds into the raised arm of the Aussie Giant, who responds with a boot to the gut. Clamping down with a Front Facelock, Janus pulls the Maniac into the air, turning him around for the Rage Unleashed. A frantic kicking of his legs barely lefts JD escape intime before being dropped on his head.

 

Landing on his feet behind the giant, Jaw Dawg swings him around, only to have a massive hand clamped around his throat. Hoisting him up into the air, Janus sends him thundering down onto the remains of the table with a huge Chokeslam.

 

Bailing out of the ring, Janus pulls one last thing out from under the ring.

 

YYYYYAAAAAAAHHHHH!

 

Stevens: "He's got a Lightbulb Tube Board! This is going to get even uglier for everyone!"

 

Climbing back into the ring, Janus drops the board in the middle of the ring, looking at who to destroy with it. Before he can make up his mid, a leg lashes out across the mat, sweeping him from his feet. Surging back to his feet, JD picks up the piece of table he landed on, and brings it overhead into the Heel Machine's head.

 

CRACK!

 

Again.

 

CRACK!

 

Again.

 

CRACK!

 

Laying Janus out in the corner, Jamie drops the piece of table across him and climbs the turnbuckles. All the way to the top rope, a vulture ready to sweep down onto the easy prey below.

 

 

Riley: "Who's he gonna hit? Janus or Dace? Does it even actually matter with the state both of them are in."

 

Diving off the top rope, JD flips from the air with a somersault, and cross onto Janus chest.

 

RRRRAAAAAHHHH!

 

Stevens: "Top Rope Somersault Senton onto the wood onto Janus."

 

Leaning backwards, digging into the mat, JD makes another cover.

 

......ONE!

 

 

 

......TWO!

 

 

 

 

 

......1/4!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

.......1/2!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

......3/4!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

......9/10!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

......THRR-NNNNOOOOOOOOOO!

 

Stevens: "Janus Kicks Out!"

 

Thrown to his feet by the force of the kickout, Jay Dawg looks back at Janus in shock, quickly measuring him for a kick, but even as Janus climbs to his feet, he slams a brutal fist into Drazon's gut.

 

Stevens: "Knuckle Bomb!"

 

Back on his feet, Janus pulls Drazon into a Standing Headscissors, and pointing to the floor outside, rises his arms in the air, cutting them across his throat, Janus picks up Drazon like a rag doll, pushing him up by his tights and just throws him over the ropes and down onto the floor with a thud.

 

HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT!

 

Stevens: "Dark Bomb on the floor! Oh my god!"

 

Riley: "All Janus has to do now it pin someone. Dace isn't mov..."

 

But Riley regrets starting that line, even as Janus turns round, a boot slams into his mid section, doubling him over. His arms are pulled into a Double Underhook, and with sheer f-u strength, he's pick up off the mat and spiked head first into the lightbulb tube board.

 

HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT!

 

Stevens: "Defenestration on the lightbulb tubes!"

 

Riley: "No, damn it! This isn't right! He can't do that to Janus!"

 

Even as blood starts pouring from his lacerated back, Dace rolls over, covering Janus,

 

......ONE!

 

 

 

......TWO!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

......1/4!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

.......1/2!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

.......3/4!

 

 

 

 

Riley: "He'll kick out, Janus will kick out of that!"

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

......9/10!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

.......THHHHRRRRREEEEE!

 

DING! DING! DING!

 

DACE F'N' NIGHT! DACE F'N' NIGHT! DACE F'N' NIGHT!

 

Funyon: "Ladies and Gentlemen, here is your winner and NEEWWWW SWF HARDCORE GAMERS' CHAMPION ... DACE NNNIIIIIIGGGGGHHHHTTTTTTT!"

 

Fuel for Hatred screams into life over the roars of the fans across the areana.

 

Stevens: "He does it! Dace goes it! He gets revenge on Janus for last time, and captures the HGC Title at the same time!"

 

YYYYYYAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!

 

With is arm raised by Hebner, leaning on him for support, the blooded, battered and beaten Dace Night is handed the HGC Title Belt. Smearing his blood across the belt, he holds it up high in the air for the fans.

 

Riley: "He's going to pay for this! Mark my words Mark, he's going to pay for this match."

 

Stevens: "Maybe he will, but right now he's the victor and the New Champion."

 

Riley: "Well, I can assure you we'll never see this happening with the World Title."

 

Stevens: "But with Dace's stable mate Danny Williams taking on Tom Flesher for it in the Main Event tonight, we could see something very close to it."

 

The camera fades out on the image of blood covered Dace hugging the HGC belt.

[Guest Grand Slam]

And we are treated to a big pan of the Air Canada Centre in Toronto, Canada as we return to another edition of SWF Lockdown! The camera picks off a few signs like “Where’s my Secret Agent man?”, “Beezel = Stubby”, and “Leafs Forever”. Well, there had to be ONE of them. At any rate, we go down to the floor, where “Grand Slam” Mark Stevens and Bobbie Riley wait for the next exciting match to begin.

 

“That was one hell of a Hardcore match…” says Bobbie in amazement, and Grand Slam nods in agreement.

 

“Hell is definitely the word I’d use to describe it. But now we move on from Hardcore to your good ‘ole fashioned match, and boy what a match it’s gonna be between Taylor Nicolas Thompson and ‘Judge’ William Hearford. TNT is a Former Tag and World Champion and Hearford is a former Hardcore and current Tag Champion and both are looking to pick up a needed singles win here.”

 

“Yeah, notice the word ‘Former’ before all of TNT’s stuff,” says Riley flippantly, “The guy is a has-been. Hell, it’s arguable he’s a never-was.”

 

“He’s had a cold streak as of late, but TNT is a guy who can explode at any minute. Just look at his comeback at Clusterfuck and From the Fire. It’s just amazing how he can turn it on when he needs to. And the Judge isn’t much better in singles at the moment…”

 

“Hey, he beat Johnny!”

 

“And that’s about it. He lost his Hardcore Gamer’s Title to MVS in a Triple threat, he lost via DQ to Kross and then tapped out to tickling against Kris,” Mark reminds Bobbie, and Riley jumps on the defensive.

 

“He wasn’t tapping out! It was bull crap and you know it!” he explains as a quiet drumbeat starts up and Funyon steps through the ropes.

 

“The following match is scheduled for ONE FALL!” he booms as the arena turns red and the drumbeat gets louder and louder until…

 

“NOW TESTIFY!”

 

Rage Against the Machine’s “Testify” blares through the Air Canada Centre as a set of red pyros goes off on either side of the stage, and the Judge steps onto the stage to his normal hail of boos. He strides down in his normal “Justice” football jersey with his tag title around his waist, making a few taunts at the louder fans near the ramp.

 

“Weighing in at 242 pounds and hailing from Royal Oak, Michigan… He is one half of the Tag Team CHAMPIONS… ‘The Judge’ William HEAAAAAAAAARFOOOOOOOORD!”

 

“I have to say that Hearford is one hell of a tag performer,” notes Stevens as the Judge places his Tag Title on the steel steps, “But oddly enough, his partner isn’t here with him tonight. I’m guessing he wants actually get a clean victory for once.”

 

“Pfft. Like he needs Ejiro to beat this fool…”

 

“And now entering second….”

 

The crowd begins to chant along with the “Oy”s as AC/DC’s “TNT” begins to play, and a massive explosion of white pyros goes off from center stage before the former World Champion steps onto the stage to a massive ovation. He raises an arm for another crowd reaction before stepping down the entrance ramp with a look of intensity on his face.

 

“WATCH ME EXPLOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOODE!!!”

 

“Now entering the ring, weighing 266 pounds and hailing from Anaheim, California… a Former WORLD CHAMPION and the winner of Clusterf**k 2003… T! N! TEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!”

 

“Well, it’s the year of underdogs for Anaheim with the Angels, the Ducks, and TNT being surprising champions,” starts Grand Slam, “But I don’t think I’d be surprised in the least if TNT destroyed Hearford in this match tonight. He’s wearing his game face and he looks intent on winning tonight.”

 

“Either that or he has a bad case of hemorrhoids.”

 

TNT jumps up to the ring apron and steps in before doing his normal four corner spiel, going up to the second rope and shouting “KABOOM~!”, getting big pops every time. He steps down and begins to get ready to start, but suddenly strobe lights begin to go off at the entrance ramp as smoke pours off the stage!

 

“What the heck? He’s not supposed to be here!” says Grand Slam as “Cold” by Static-X and Tod DeKindes steps out to a shower of heat. He gives a small smirk as he steps down to the announcer’s table and takes the open head set next to Stevens.

 

“Hey there, Grand Spam, Bobbie,” he says in his laid back way, “What’s up?”

 

“You aren’t supposed to be here,” comments a slightly peeved Stevens and Riley interrupts him.

 

“Oh please, don’t be so rude to the surprise guest commentator.”

 

TNT eyes Tod, who gives a mocking wave to him. The champ shakes his head once before turning around and nods to CED, who points over at the time keeper’s table for the bell.

 

*DING DING DING*

 

The match starts, and both men cautiously come out of their corners. They circle around, looking for an opening in the other man’s defenses. Hearford dashes and tries for a quick two-legged takedown, but Thompson quickly steps back, forcing the Judge to roll away and start circling again.

 

“Wow, these two are really taking it slow. Neither wants to make the first move, which could be the first mistake…” says Grand Slam as the two continue to do a few feints and such.

 

“BORING…” is the verdict that DeKindes reaches, his head resting on his hands. Suddenly, his face breaks into a smile.

 

“I got an idea on how to start this match off.”

 

“What?” responds Mark, clueless to what Tod has in mind as he stands up from the announcer’s table.

 

“HEY! TAYLOR!” he shouts, and TNT immediately turns his attention towards DeKindes, expecting some sort of attack or such…

 

THWACK

 

… and allowing the Judge to get a quick punch in to a chorus of boos!

 

“See? Now we have a fight.” says a satisfied DeKindes as Hearford goes off and begins pounding TNT in the head with lefts and rights.

 

Pushing Thompson back to the ropes with his blows, Justice grabs the larger man by the wrist and whips him towards the other side of the ring. He starts running himself and as TNT bounces off the ropes he lines him up for trademark big lariat, but TNT ducks! The crowd gives a cheer and the two bounce off the ropes again with the former World Champion delivering a Burning Lariat that turns the old man inside out! Shakily, Hearford picks himself up off the ground, and flashes a scowl that gets no response from TNT.

 

This time Hearford forgoes the circling and walks right up to Thompson, firing a knife-edged chop that doesn’t budge the former World Champion.

 

WHOO!

 

With that, TNT decides to respond the same way, pushing Hearford back a step with his own chop.

 

WHOO!

 

The old man grimaces a little bit, but he still fires off a response, even harder than the last one.

 

WHOO!

 

Thompson staggers back a few steps, but he isn’t about to be shown up here. He wants the win bad. Thompson sums up all his power…

 

WHOO!

 

… And nails Hearford across the chest hard! The old man stumbles back, surprised by the power of the blow. Coming back to his senses, he gets ready to respond but TNT nails him with another one!

 

WHOO!

 

And another!

 

WHOO!

 

Three in a row and the old veteran nearly trips over his own feet before backpeddling into the ropes. He wraps his arms around them for a brief moment, but Taylor keeps him moving as he takes his arm and whips him at the ropes! Thompson moves out to the middle of the ring as Hearford bounces off and comes back, grabbing him by the waist and putting him into the air with a Railgun Suplex!

 

“And Thompson starts off strong!” says Stevens as Tod gives a frown, “He really wants the win tonight.”

 

“Well, he ain’t gonna get it,” comments Tod, “Thompson is a guy who is done. He’s topped out and now it’s time to show him off to the retirement home courtesy of Tod DeKindes.”

 

“What makes you so confident that you can take him out at all?”

 

“I beat him back in the JL. The guy hasn’t changed a bit since I first fought him.”

 

Meanwhile, Hearford arches his back in pain while TNT flips over onto his belly and pushes off the ground. The determined wrestler comes over and picks the Judge off the ground… but the veteran has reservations about leaving the mat as he breaks TNT’s grip and takes him down with a two legged takedown. Hearford immediately lets go of Thompson’s knees and scrambles over towards Taylor’s arm. He catches his quarry, turning his back towards Taylor as he puts him into a Reverse Fujiwara-type Armbar. TNT’s expression doesn’t change as the Judge butterflies the arm and tries to torque the elbow.

 

“See? The guy is even more of a dinosaur than the Judge is,” comments Tod with a smirk, “He couldn’t avoid a simple Armbar.”

 

“I doubt even you could have. The Judge has more mat experience than anyone in the fed today, and only a few guys active today can outmaneuver him on the canvas.”

 

“Bah. The guy should be in a walker. What’s worse is that Thompson’s got caught by him.”

 

As Tod goes “Whatever” to logic, Hearford begins to shift his body around. He swiftly spins around to the other side, maintaining control of the arm, and now behind Thompson he tries to force him over onto his belly to get a proper Fujiwara in place. Unfortunately for the Judge, Thompson refuses to go, and the Judge is forced to change his plan. He weaves both arms under the captured arm and wraps them around his neck. He ducks his head under and now he’s got Thompson in a sitting Abdominal Stretch. Hearford torques the hold, trying to pull TNT’s head off, and Thompson grits his teeth while CED asks him whether he wants to submit.

 

“Has anyone ever submitted to an abdominal stretch?” asks Riley, and Grand Slam looks over at him.

 

“Not likely, but the hold is really designed to tire the victim out while working his neck and back.”

 

“So we can expect TNT to be the first to tap out to it tonight…”

 

From the crowd, a faint “LET’S GO THOMPSON, LET’S GO!*CLAPCLAPCLAP*” begins to come out, and it quickly begins to grow and grow until the whole Air Canada Centre is doing it. In the ring, TNT hears it and like every face his before him his blood begins to move and the young wrestler begins to get a footing. He gets on his knees, and with the Judge trying to maintain the hold he can’t push him back down. Thompson gets up to his feet, and with the crowd cheering he musters up the power to throw Hearford to the ground like a Judo master! Both of the men fall forwards, and Hearford lands right on his back. TNT lands on his stomach, and he quickly catches the Judge with a side headlock!

 

“Wow! Another incredible transition there and now Thompson has Hearford on the ground with a hold of his own.”

 

“Damnit! What the hell?” says Tod as Thompson grinds his arms into the side of Hearford’s head, “This guy was supposed to be a master on the mat and now he’s getting beat by an amateur like him.”

 

“TNT is a jack of all trades. He knows a little it about every style so it’s not too hard to believe he can do something like that on Hearford.”

 

The Judge tries to shift himself over, but Thompson shifts with him, thwarting any plans he had of trying to reverse the hold on TNT. Instead, the former World Champ releases the hold and pulls the Judge up to his feet and locks up with him. The two square off, neither budging as each tries to take control of the hold. Thompson tries pressing forwards, and Hearford can’t hold out against he bigger man. He begins to force him back towards the corner, but the old man pulls his arm away and ducks under, cinching a waistlock. The surprised Thompson is caught off guard, and Hearford pulls him off the ground for a German Suplex, bridging it for a pin! CED dives in for the count.

 

 

ONE!

 

 

TW-No! TNT right out of bridge, flipping himself onto his belly.

 

“See? I told you he had no chance,” says a confident Tod, “The geriatric in the ring nearly got a pin with just a German Suplex.”

 

“That was a damn strong kickout, Tod. TNT still has a lot left in the tank.”

 

“Bah. I’ve seen 6 year old soccer players kick harder than that.”

 

“… That doesn’t really make sense.”

 

“Of course it does. You just have to be smart enough to understand it.”

 

“Whatever.”

 

In the ring, Hearford flips around and gets to his feet with TNT, and Thompson is the first to react, firing off a big elbow to the Judge’s chest. He pushes him back, and he keeps in his face with the elbows, firing one after another like Misawa on Speed. Stumbling backwards like a drunk, Hearford tries to fight back, throwing a wild punch that TNT ducks under. Thompson wraps his arm around the Judge’s chest as he ducks under the punch and kicks his legs out from under him, nailing him with a High Angle STO!

 

“Power Nitro Driver! TNT is just dominating this matchup!”

 

“No he’s not,” comments a cynical Tod, “The old guy is obviously just trying to wear him out before taking him out with ease.”

 

“Searching for excuses, eh?”

 

“Shut up.”

 

The Judge holds the back of his head as Thompson gets up and looks over to the announcer’s table. He walks over to the ropes and says something to the effect of “This is you soon enough, Tod!”

 

“Screw you, Taylor! I’ve beaten your ass before and I’ll do it again!” shoots back Tod as he gets up from the table, pointing his finger at Thompson, “So you just try and take me down!”

 

Thompson goes to respond, but a recovered Hearford uses the distraction to slide in and pull the former World Champion to the mat with a school boy pin! The old veteran puts his feet on the ropes as CED slides in for the count!

 

ONE!

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

THREE-NO! TNT blasts out and the crowd goes wild as Hearford hits his fist on the mat at not getting him.

 

“Did you see that? Did you see that?” says Tod as TNT begins to get up but takes a boot to the back from the Judge, “The moron nearly lost himself the match. Man doesn’t have any focus.”

 

“Well, maybe if you weren’t down here…”

 

“Hey, I’m giving you expert commentary here. Be glad that you have such in-depth commentary on that nimrod in the ring.”

 

The Judge continues to drive boot heels into the back of the former World Champion, putting him onto the mat. He thinks for a second about putting a submission on, but instead he decides to pull him up and lock on a front waist lock. He pulls the man towards his side, lifting him up and planting him perpendicular to him on the ground with a Shamrock Belly to Belly Suplex. He quickly hooks the leg and goes for the pin.

 

ONE!

 

 

TWO!

 

 

T-NO! TNT kicks out again, and Hearford gives a frustrated sigh before putting his fingers around the man’s neck and strangling the life out of him.

 

“See, now THAT’S what I call tactics,” says Tod with a grin, “Though I doubt it will work. TNT’s brain seems to function in a vacuum all the time.”

 

CED yells at the old man to break the illegal choke, but Hearford doesn’t listen, forcing the 5 count.

 

ONE!

TWO!

THREE!

FOU- And the Judge breaks the chokehold. He lifts the slightly stunned TNT off the ground and gives him a knee to the stomach. Quickly putting on a facelock, Hearford throws Thompson’s arm over his neck and begins to lift him up for a vertical Suplex… but only gets about a foot off the ground before Taylor begins kicking his legs. The Judge can’t lift him up any further and he puts him back on the ground, where he gives the old man a kick to the stomach. He scoops him up and holds him across his body before putting him over top for a Fallaway Slam, complete with Bridging Pin! The crowd gives a cheer CED slides in for a count!

 

ONE!

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

THREEEENO! The Judge gets a shoulder up at the last second, barely avoiding a pin!

 

“The Judge is looking shakier and shakier as the match goes on. He barely got out of that Exploder.”

 

Hearford lies on the ground for a second as TNT gets up onto his knees, and the younger wrestler pulls the old guy to his feet. He locks up with him and pushes the old man back into the corner, and immediately begins pounding him with knifed edged chops.

 

CHOP!

 

WHOO!

 

CHOP!

 

WHOO!

 

CHOP!

 

WHOO!

 

CHOP!

 

WHOO!

 

CHOP!

 

WHOO!

 

And with that final chop TNT lets the old man stagger out of the corner holding his chest. Hearford shakes his head as he recovers his wits, but from behind comes Taylor, putting a half nelson on him. The Judge tries to break free, but pulls him right off the ground and hits him with a Half Nelson Suplex. The Judge lands smack on his neck and head and TNT floats over for a pin!

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

 

THREEEEENO! The Judge puts his foot on the ropes, and the crowd gives a disappointed sigh.

 

“Another close pinfall for the former World Champion, and it looks like he’s going to break his losing streak tonight!”

 

“No! NO! God damn it!” Tod shouts, and begins to get up… but he just sits back down disappointed.

 

“Yeah, and you can’t do anything without giving TNT the DQ victory. The losing streak ends tonight!”

 

In the ring, TNT pulls up the Judge again, pulling on his arm and throwing him for a whip… No! The Judge reverses the whip and sends TNT flying instead. He stands as straight as he can and as TTN comes back he lifts his foot up for a big Superkick!... Bubt TNT ducks under it! TNT bounces off the other side, and gets ready for another Burning Lariat!

 

WHAM!

 

“Judge ducked! Judge ducked!” cries Riley with glee as big lariat passes over his head.

 

“And CED gets plastered!” says a happy Tod as Thompson catches all of Ordonez, who pulls a Hennig as does a full flip in mid-air before hitting the canvas.

 

Thompson looks down at CED for a second, but he’s caught from behind with an overhand punch from Hearford! The crowd boos as Hearford takes over for a moment, nailing the distracted TNT with a flurry of punches before the former World Champ blocks one and nails the Judge with one of his own! The crowd begins to swell as Taylor keeps the pressure on, hammering the old veteran with punch after punch. The dizzied Judge sways back and forth and TNT gives him a sharp kick to the gut, causing Tod to get up from his seat.

 

“Christ…” mumbles says as he runs over to the ring, grabbing the Judge’s title off the steel steps. Meanwhile, TNT grabs Justice by the head and puts him in a standing head scissors. He puts his hands around the Judge’s waist and prepares to lift him up…

 

 

CLANG!

 

… But Tod nails him straight in the back of the head with the Tag Title. The former World Champion falls backwards to the mat as Tod smiles and slides back out, putting the title back on the steps as leaves.

 

”Well, aren’t I the Boy Scout,” he laughs, “I just helped an old guy.”

 

“No, you are prick!” says Grand Slam with obvious anger as the Judge lays himself over TNT while CED begins to come to.

 

“Hey, whatever. As long as TNT loses…” responds Tod as CED crawls over and begins to make a count.

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THREE!

 

*DING DING DING*

 

“And the winner of the match…. “JUDGE” WILLIAM HEARFORD!”

 

“It’s all okay with me.” finishes Tod as the crowd heaps boos down onto the ring. He quickly strides up the entrance ramp.

 

“That… that… bastard!” Stevens finally blurts out, obviously not wanting to curse. “He just took away another TNT victory right from Thompson’s hands! Well, at any rate there’s gonna be hell to pay when TNT gets back up. We’ll be coming back right after this break!”

 

*FADE TO COMMERCIAL*

[Guest Grand Slam]

A jam-packed Air Canada Center in Toronto explodes as SWF Lockdown returns from commercial. The SmarkTron™ proudly displays the Lockdown logo as fans scream. The cameras focus on a sign reading “Danny is the REAL Superior One!” as Mark Stevens’ voice fills the airwaves.

 

Grand Slam: Welcome back to SWF Lockdown, folks! We’ve had an incredible start to tonight’s show! We’ve seen the return of Longdogger Pete to action, a brutal Hardcore Triple Threat match, and just now, we saw Judge Mental take on TNT!

 

Riley: What’s already gone down is good enough, but what’s left to come is even better! Tom Flesher will have a chance to extend his title reign and prove his superiority once again as he takes on that ingrate Danny Williams!

 

Grand Slam: That match promises to deliver, and so does our next match, as the Boston Strangler takes on Neilsen of the Jungle in a brutal no-holds-barred Last Man Standing match!

 

Riley: This match is brilliant work by the Suicide King. Neilsen has been a thorn in his side since he returned, and Strangler hasn’t been any better! So tonight, the two of them have to beat the living shit out of each other! King’s brilliance is amazing even to me!

 

Grand Slam: This match is sure to be absolutely BRUTAL, as Strangler and Neilsen have to be considered two of the pre-eminent hardcore fighters in SWF history! Strangler once held the SWF Hardcore Title for over two months, and Neilsen of the Jungle is the self-proclaimed “Hardcore King”! These two will be lucky to leave standing tonight!

 

Riley: And if we’re REALLY lucky, neither of them will!

 

Grand Slam: Shut up, Riley. Now we take you to Funyon in the ring to get this match started!

 

The camera pans to Funyon, who is highlighted by a spotlight in the middle of the ring.

 

Funyon: This match is a LAST MAN STANDING MATCH, and it is scheduled for ONE FALL! Introducing first…

 

Funyon pauses as “Godzilla” by Blue Oyster Cult kicks in over the loudspeakers. The fans erupt to their feet as the SmarkTron™ displays “STRANGLER” before a massive burst of white pyro goes off. As the pyro begins to die down, Strangler walks out from behind the curtain to another burst of applause. Strangler uncoils a metal chain from around his shoulder and raises it into the air, drawing yet another roar from the crowd, before he starts to head for the ring.

 

Funyon: First, from Boston, Massachusetts, weighing in at 303 pounds, he is the BOSTON….STRRRRRRANGLER!!!!!!!

 

Strangler slides underneath the bottom rope and steps to his feet as “Godzilla” continues to play in the background. He walks to the ropes and climbs the second turnbuckle. He raises both fists, with the chain still firmly clenched in his right hand, before “Godzilla” cuts out. The lights remain dim as “Sickness” by Disturbed starts to play. The fans seem to get even LOUDER as the Hardcore King himself steps out onto the ramp, with Michelle hanging on his arm.

 

Funyon: And his opponent, from Chicago, Illinois, weighing in at 245 pounds, he is NEILSEN OF THE JUNGLLLLLLLLLLLLLE!

 

Neilsen removes Michelle from his side and starts sprinting toward the ring, with his steel chair in hand. Neilsen slides under the bottom rope and charges straight at Strangler. Strangler sidesteps a chair shot and then drills Neilsen with a big right cross (with the chain still on his right hand) straight to Neilsen’s jaw. Neilsen staggers backwards and drops his chair as the bell rings to begin the match.

 

DING DING DING!!!!

 

Grand Slam: They might both hate King, but neither man is gonna hold back tonight!

 

Neilsen holds his jaw from the hard punch, then looks up and immediately gets drilled by a Strangler clothesline that sends him tumbling over the top rope to the floor on the outside. Strangler drops the chain on the ring canvas, then immediately slips under the bottom rope and joins Neilsen on the outside, who is quickly up to his feet. Strangler rushes forward and hits a second clothesline on Neilsen, which sends him lurching backwards into the crowd barrier. Strangler takes a few steps backwards and backs into the ring steps. Strangler looks down, and quickly rips the top half of the ring steps out of its moorings. The crowds cheer as Strangler raises it high into the air and charges toward Neilsen. Neilsen looks up in the nick of time and jumps away from the crowd barrier onto the ring apron. Strangler comes to a halt and turns as Neilsen leaps off the ring apron with a dropkick, planting the ring steps directly into Strangler’s face. Strangler falls hard on his back, the ring steps lying on top of his head as the crowd cheers Neilsen’s agility.

 

Grand Slam: Strangler was off to the early advantage, but Neilsen showing off his speed there with a great counter.

 

Riley: That doesn’t look like it’s gonna keep Strangler down, though…

 

Eddy Long slides out of the ring and prepares to begin the 10 count, but Strangler forcefully tosses the ring steps off to the side. Long barely manages to sidestep the flying steel projectile as Strangler starts to get himself up to his feet. Strangler plants himself with his right arm and starts to reach for the ring apron with his left arm to pull himself up, but Neilsen comes flying through the air. He grabs Strangler’s arm and snaps it back over his head as Strangler gets pulled down to the mat savagely. Strangler grabs ahold of his left arm as Neilsen lands hard on the floor and rolls up against the crowd barrier.

 

Riley: Neilsen off to a good start, with the strategy being to weaken Strangler’s arms! Without those, he can’t deliver the biggest moves in his arsenal, including the Boston Massacre!

 

Both men remain down on the ground, so Eddy Long begins to count along as Neilsen quickly starts to get himself up while Strangler begins to push himself to his knees, still favoring his left arm.

 

 

ONE!!!!!

 

 

TW….

 

 

Neilsen quickly breaks the count as he beats Strangler to his feet. As Strangler pushes off his knees to a full vertical base, Neilsen grabs Strangler from behind and rolls him back into the ring. Strangler rolls into the ring and starts to get up again as Neilsen slides in behind him and springs to his feet. Strangler turns and faces Neilsen, and the two men stare each other down. The looks in their eyes drill holes through each other as the crowd pops for the staredown between the two hardcore masters.

 

Grand Slam: And now, after the chaos that started this match off, it looks like this match is really getting underway now!

 

Finally, Neilsen breaks the staredown by charging at Strangler. Strangler grabs ahold of Neilsen and tosses him backwards into the ropes. Neilsen charges forward again, and Strangler shoves him backwards again. Neilsen charges yet again, and this time locks up with Strangler. The two men strain against each other, and Strangler starts to force Neilsen backwards before Neilsen kicks up and delivers a hard kick straight to Strangler’s groin. Strangler’s eyes fly open, and the big man releases his grip on Neilsen’s shoulders. Neilsen takes the opportunity by darting backwards, then charging forward. Neilsen flies through the air as he drills Strangler with a flying cross-body block. Strangler falls to the mat, favoring his arm and groin as the fans cheer on Neilsen, who plays to the crowd a little bit, mocking Strangler’s injured limb.

 

Grand Slam: Neilsen is doing his usual act, and the fans are eating it up!

 

Riley: Strangler isn’t going to take this lying down…that’s his mom’s job!

 

Grand Slam: Riley, you might be the least funny person that I know.

 

Strangler pushes up once again, still trying to avoid putting pressure on his left arm. Strangler shakes out the kinks in his injured arm as he turns back to Neilsen. However, Neilsen has climbed to the top rope and leaps off, backflipping through the air. However, Strangler catches Neilsen across his right shoulder, blocking the moonsault attempt. Neilsen tries to wriggle off Strangler’s shoulder, but Strangler leaps forward and plants Neilsen into the ground with a running powerslam. The fans cheer, although a few boos mix in, as Neilsen rolls onto his side and immediately starts to get to his feet as Strangler looks at Neilsen with a murderous glint in his eye.

 

Riley: It appears that these fans have sided with Neilsen over Strangler here….they definitely seem to be more in the corner of the Hardcore King!

 

Grand Slam: These fans are cheering both men, Riley! You see, they actually LIKE both of these men. Being liked by a crowd isn’t something you’d understand…

 

Neilsen is on one knee, pushing up to his feet as Strangler steps forwards and clubs Neilsen over the shoulders with a hard hammer punch. Neilsen falls back to the canvas as Strangler begins to stomp away on Neilsen’s exposed back and shoulders. Neilsen slithers out of the ring to the outside, which sends Strangler in hot pursuit. Strangler slips out of the ring and follows Neilsen over to the bottom of the ramp, where Neilsen is on one knee, taking a rest. Strangler runs forward and drills him with a hard boot straight to the face. The crowd is fairly silent as Strangler stands over the fallen body of Neilsen of the Jungle with an intimidating smirk on his face.

 

Riley: Strangler is all business here, and he’s taking it to Neilsen! Of course, he couldn’t have done this at Battleground, that gigantic inbred idiot!

 

Strangler grabs ahold of Neilsen and lifts him up by his right arm. He Irish-whips Neilsen towards the ring, but doesn’t let go. Instead, he pulls Neilsen back towards him and demolishes him with a hard clothesline straight across the throat. Neilsen flops towards the floor, but Strangler keeps his grip on Neilsen’s arm. He pulls the discombobulated Neilsen to his feet and quickly applies a hammerlock. Strangler leads Neilsen back towards the ring. When they near the ring apron, Strangler releases his hammerlock and whips Neilsen into the steel ringpost. Neilsen slams into it and ricochets off the ringpost to the ground, where he holds his head in pain once again.

 

Grand Slam: Neilsen is in a lot of pain here! I dunno how much longer Neilsen will be able to go for!

 

Strangler pulls Neilsen up from the ground to his feet. He grabs Neilsen’s head and slams it into the crowd barrier. Neilsen shoots back up, holding his head again, but then Strangler whips Neilsen forward, tossing him over the crowd barrier into the first row of seats. Jim Phelps, the SWF Head of Security, pushes fans backwards as the Hardcore King rolls onto his side. Strangler climbs over the barrier and walks towards Neilsen as the fans cheer on the two men. Strangler walks up behind Neilsen, who has pushed himself up to his feet, and hits Neilsen hard from behind with a big right forearm. Neilsen goes stumbling forward a few steps, moving through the crowd as Strangler follows in pursuit. As Strangler approaches, Neilsen whirls around and clocks Strangler in the jaw with a hard right cross before turning around again and heading further into the crowd towards the electronic equipment for the broadcast.

 

Neilsen reaches the equipment, and looks around, searching for an appropriate weapon. He spies a pair of metal folding chairs sitting by one on the stacks of equipment. He quickly grabs one of the chairs and snaps it shut as Strangler comes striding into the area, a pissed-off look on his face. Strangler spies Neilsen on the other side of the equipment, and starts over towards him. However, Neilsen leaps up onto the second folding chair, and springs forward. He clocks Strangler in the head with a nasty chair shot that brings the big Bostonian down like a redwood tree. The fans go insane as Strangler looks up at the lights, dazed and confused, as Neilsen delivers another hard chair shot to Strangler’s stomach. Strangler recoils and rolls away, trying to force himself up. Neilsen delivers a third chair shot to Strangler’s back, then tosses the chair away. Eddy Long comes running through the crowd and sees Strangler down on the ground. He quickly begins the 10 count, with Strangler looking totally out of it on the ground.

 

 

ONE!!!!!!

 

 

 

TWO!!!!!!!!!

 

 

 

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

 

Grand Slam: It looks like Strangler’s trying to get up!

 

 

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

 

 

 

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

 

 

SI……..

 

Riley: And Strangler gets to his feet! You know what that means! More beatings for the two men that the Suicide King hates!

 

Grand Slam: It also means incredible SWF action from two of the biggest superstars in this federation today.

 

Riley: No one wants to see these men fight. Right, fans?

 

The fans can’t hear Riley as they cheer loudly for the two men battling it out. Strangler pushes himself up, and immediately ducks a chairshot from Neilsen of the Jungle. Neilsen whirls around, only to be met with Strangler wrapping his fist around Neilsen’s throat. Neilsen immediately lashes out with a kick to Strangler’s groin. The second low blow of the match draws another pop from the crowd as Strangler releases his grip on Neilsen’s throat and doubles over slightly. Neilsen applies a front facelock to Strangler and tries to bring the big man down with a DDT, but Strangler stays on his feet. Instead, Neilsen is lifted off the ground by Strangler’s sheer strength. Strangler lifts Neilsen a solid three feet off the ground against his chest before readjusting his position, and falling forward, hitting a spinebuster on Neilsen. The crowd applauds in awe of Strangler’s display of strength as Eddy Long drops into position and makes the count as Strangler starts to get to his feet and Neilsen struggles to move his head.

 

Grand Slam: What a spinebuster from Strangler! He might have won the match right there!

 

Riley: Here’s hoping that’s the case! Stay down, Neilsen!

 

 

 

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

 

 

 

 

 

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

 

 

 

 

 

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

 

 

 

 

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

 

 

 

 

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

 

 

 

SIX!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

 

 

SEVEN!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

Grand Slam: And Neilsen is to his feet! The crowd is going crazy, and Strangler looks less than pleased at this development.

 

Strangler pulls Neilsen towards him as he angrily glares at Eddy Long, demanding that he count faster next time. Long just looks back at Strangler with a nonchalant expression on his face as the Boston Strangler returns his attention to Neilsen. Strangler goes for a clothesline, but Neilsen ducks it and slips his arm over Strangler’s shoulders, setting him up for the Book-End. However, Strangler kicks upwards, drilling Neilsen with a low blow of his own. Neilsen drops to the ground, experiencing the agony that Strangler had felt twice earlier in this match. Strangler looks down at Neilsen, then looks out at the crowd with a look of surprise on his face. The fans are mainly cheering Strangler, but there is a definite current of boos in the crowd for Strangler’s low blow.

 

Riley: Strangler looks surprised that he got booed for a low blow. There’s a shocker.

 

Grand Slam: But Riley, Neilsen got massive cheers for the same move earlier! Strangler just did the same thing that Neilsen did.

 

Riley: Which is a bad idea in and of itself. Emulating Neilsen of the Jungle is no way to live a life.

 

Strangler grabs the chair that Neilsen of the Jungle dropped earlier, and an idea flashes across his face. Strangler takes the chair and smashes it down over the back of Neilsen, drawing a huge groan from Neilsen. Strangler leans back again and swings the chair, drilling Neilsen in the skull with the chair. Neilsen falls straight onto his face as Strangler stands over him with the chair. Once again, a fair number of boos mix in with the cheers for Strangler, who looks down at Neilsen, then to the chair in his hands with a questioning look on his face. Strangler drops the chair and quickly hoists Neilsen into a standing position. Strangler grabs ahold of Neilsen’s chest and lifts him up into a Gorilla Press Slam position, which draws a big cheer from the crowd. Strangler balances Neilsen above his head as he quickly steps towards the pile of electrical equipment. Strangler pauses one second more, then delivers the Boston Massacre onto the pile of equipment lying on the floor. Sparks shoot up from some of the equipment as Neilsen rolls onto his side, looking totally lifeless. The crowd goes wild as Eddy Long begins the count.

 

 

 

 

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

 

 

 

 

 

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

 

 

 

 

 

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

 

 

 

 

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

 

 

 

 

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

 

 

 

SIX!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

 

 

SEVEN!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

 

 

 

EIGHT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

 

 

 

NINE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

 

 

 

 

TEN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

 

DING DING DING!

 

 

Funyon: Your winner, the BOSTON STRANGLER!

 

Grand Slam: What a battle! Pure carnage all around! We’ll be back in a moment!

[Guest Grand Slam]

The camera fades in from the break while scanning a wildly cheering crowd hoping for one brief moment of screen time to impress their family and loved ones.

 

“This is the Air Canada Center! This is Toronto, Canada! This is SWF Lockdown! And this is the best wrestling going today!” Hypes the excited Mark Stevens on voice over.

 

“But that’s not really saying much,” comes the detached and sarcastic reply of Bobby Riley as the shot transitions to a close up of the SWF’s top and only commentating team.

 

“You can’t deny the great action we’ve seen here already tonight, Bobby,” Mark implores in trying to save face. “Nor the action we still have on the docket. ‘The Superior One’ Tom Flesher will defend his World Heavyweight Title against the SWF’s new ICTV champion Danny Williams. However, before we get there, a man who knows a thing or two about Tom Flesher himself, Frost, will square off with Ejiro Fasaki, one half of the tag team champions Justice and Rule.”

 

“If you need a bathroom break, take it now” snaps Riley. “Fasaki should have this match won in about pi seconds if Frost comes out for this match like he did last week against Jay Dawg.”

 

“Admittedly, Frost was dull and lifeless for that encounter. Only his walking out of the match saved what was to be a certain loss at the hands of the charging Hardcore Maniac.” Stevens recaps. “It’s obvious that Frost is distraught and depressed over not capturing the World Title from Flesher at Battleground. Where he goes from this point, not even he knows.”

 

“As Strother Martin from ‘Cold Hand Luke’ would say, Frost is in dire need of getting his mind right. He’s always dispensing the Zen guru advice backstage to others, now he needs someone to do the same for him.” Bobby chuckles slightly at the plight of the accursed Iceman. “The Memphis Eel isn’t doing anything and he has experience dealing with an overweight, washed up, moody eccentric.”

 

“When did the Memphis Eel ever work for you?”

 

“He drove my car for awhile…hey!”

 

The camera takes that cue to cut to Funyon in the ring. The bell rings to silence the crowd and Funyon puts the microphone to his lips. “Our following contest is scheduled for one fall and will be held under standard SWF rules. Introducing first…”

 

Funyon trails off as “Sellout” by Biohazard fills the arena, followed by an equally loud chorus of boos. Ejiro Fasaki trots out from the back, his trench coat buttoned up tight around his body. He flies down the ramp with deft ease, scowling at the jeering crowd.

 

“…hailing from Sarasota, Florida at a weight of 188 pounds. He represents the Magnificent 7 and is one half of the SWF Tag Team Champions with Judge William Hearford, EJIRO…FAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAASAKIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII!”

 

Fasaki springs to the ring apron and climbs up to the middle ropes. He shoots his arms into the air and straddles the thin strand with the agility and skill of a circus acrobat. Multicolored pyro erupts from the turnbuckles and Ejiro takes the top rope with both hands and flips head over heels into the ring.

 

Stevens: “Although Frost and Fasaki are former stablemates and have squared off in several tag team encounters, this is only the second singles match between them.”

 

Riley: “The first being a tables match for the ICTV Title shortly before Battleground. Frost won that match as usual through blatant cheating and bribery of the officials.”

 

Stevens: “Wha…Frost has become one of the most virtuous wrestlers we have in the SWF. Where do you come up with such lies?”

 

Riley: “Lies? If I say something, it’s true. Remember when the Hville Thugg canceled ‘Family Guy?’”

 

Cut to an animated scene of the cast of “Family Guy” in the kitchen of their home. Stewie, in his highchair, takes a bite of pancakes on his place and spits it out.

 

“Egads, Louis, your cooking erodes by the day like the mental faculties of a syphilis ravaged Adolph Hitler!” Stewie chastises.

 

Suddenly, the side wall explodes and the Hville Thugg steps out of the hole in the wall. “You honkies are outta here! Fox needs this slot for the P.J.’s!”

 

Louis runs toward Thugg with a shocked expression on her face. “Look, mister, I don’t know…”

 

HVT cuts her off with a straight jab to the face. Louis goes flying back out of frame with a loud smack. The kids all huddle around Peter.

 

“Dad, why is Mr. T canceling us?” Chris questions.

 

Peter gives Thugg a narrowed eyed stare, but can only hang his head. “I don’t know, son, I don’t know.”

 

Cut back to the Air Canada Center where Fasaki is removing his jackets to reveal his tag team title belt strapped around his waist.

 

Stevens: “With TNT and Judge having squared off earlier tonight, this might be foreshadowing of a future match between Justice and Rule and a reunited Chilly Chilly Bang Bang.”

 

Riley: “Already happened and CCBB already lost. Justice and Rule are making that sorrowful tag team nothing but a memory and Fasaki is going to individually do the same to Frost right now.”

 

“WHAT YOU GET AND WHAT YOU SEE/THINGS THAT DON’T COME EASILY…”

 

Silverish pyro pops from the ceiling and “Snowblind” by Black Sabbath blares over the sound system. Fasaki leans back into the ropes with a nonchalant attitude, staring at the entranceway as the fans cheer. A baby blue spotlight shines down on the entrance curtain and snow-esque flakes trickle from above.

 

“SOMETHING BLOWING IN MY HEAD/WINTER’S ICE, IT SOON WILL SPREAD…”

 

Stevens: “Just listen to this crowd! They’re ready for the Velvet Hammer to punch another one way ticket on the job train!”

 

Riley: “Canada can relate to Frost, because he’s a moron from a desolate wasteland of uselessness.”

 

“DEATH WOULD FREEZE MY VERY SOUL/MAKES ME HAPPY, MAKES ME COLD…”

 

After a few seconds, it becomes apparent that the song has played on a little longer than usual and the fans begin to murmur with confusion. The camera flashes to Ejiro in the ring with a smug grin plastered on his face. He begins to confer with referee Sexton Hardcastle, who shrugs his shoulders with a dumbfound expression.

 

Stevens: “Something is definitely wrong here. Frost should have made his entrance by now.”

 

Riley: “Oh where do I start with the reasons why he’s not here…too stupid to tell time, too fat to waddle out, too cowardly to face Ejiro…”

 

“DON’T YOU THINK I KNOW WHAT I’M DOING/DON’T TELL ME THAT IT’S DOING ME WRONG…”

 

“Snowblind” plays on, the snow continues to fly. The fans grow more restless and start booing the absent Icelandic Iceman. The scene cuts to a long hallway in the back, the picture shakes as it is obviously being shot with a handheld camera.

 

Stevens: “We have a cameraman going to Frost’s dressing room now to check on him.”

 

A heavy oaken door with a nameplate reading “Frost” comes into view. A hand emerges from behind the camera and knocks on the door. There is no answer and, after a few seconds, the hand tries the knob and the door flies open. The camera quickly scans the inside of the room. The bare room is neat as a pin without any signs of someone having recently been in it.

 

Stevens: “It looks like Frost hasn’t even been in his locker room!”

 

Riley: “Has anyone seen him today? Did any of the road agents check to make sure he was here? Of course, with Longdogger Pete venturing back into the ring we’re a little short in that department. As a wrestler, LDP is a good road agent.”

 

“LYING SNOWBLIND IN THE SUN/WILL MY ICE AGE EVER COME…”

 

The scene cuts back to the arena proper where Ejiro Fasaki takes the microphone out of Funyon’s hand and runs his fingers across the front of his neck.

 

“CUT THE MUSIC!” Fasaki screams to be heard. The blue spotlight fades and the snow ceases as the music fades out. The audience jeers to fill the now silent center and Ejiro basks in the roar for a moment before continuing on. “At least Frost had enough guts to go to the ring last week to face Jay Dawg, but it appears that he’s even more scared of me.” Ejiro pauses to revel in the jeers.

 

Stevens: “That’s highly uncalled for.”

 

Riley: “Go ahead, run from the truth like usual.”

 

Fasaki continues with a chuckle. “That big frozen pussy is tired of getting his ass beat, so he takes his ball and goes home. He knew he had no chance; at least I can’t call him stupid. Smart move Frosty, because I would have kill ya’. Hardcastle,” Ejiro barks out the ref’s name and points a finger at him “I demand you start this match and count that loser out.”

 

Stevens: “Can he do that?”

 

Riley: “Hey, there’s a match scheduled and one man’s out here. I told you it wouldn’t take long for Ejiro to beat Frost. I told you if I say something it’s the gospel truth.”

 

Cut to Bobby Riley, dressed like a Catholic priest and standing in front of a pedestal with a small statue of Jesus on the cross attached to it. Riley slams a huge bible shut with a cloud of dust and then says, “The bible says homosexuality is wrong…frankly I can’t find the passage, go nuts!”

 

Cut to the fans raining down a steady sheet of hissing and jeering. Hardcastle scratches his head and shrugs his shoulders. He waves for the bell.

 

DING DING DING

 

Sexton then turns toward the entrance curtain and puts both hands in the air, holding up a new finger as he counts each number.

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

Ejiro laughs coldly and dances around the debris thrown at him in the ring.

 

FOUR!

 

FIVE!

 

Fasaki gets on the mic and helps Hardcastle to count down.

 

“SIX!”

 

“SEVEN! C’mon and join in! Oh…I forgot, you Canadians can’t count that high.”

 

EIGHT!

 

NINE!

 

Riley: “OH MY GOD IT’S FROST!”

 

Stevens: “WHERE!?”

 

Riley: “Psyche! You’re so gullible.”

 

TEN!

 

DING DING DING

 

The boos escalate in volume once more. Fasaki throws the microphone back to Funyon and tell him to make the announcement while he retrieves his coat from a ringside attendant.

 

Funyon announces with a heavy heart, “Here is your winner by the result of a no-show count out, EJIRO…FAAAAAAAAAAAAAASAKIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII!”

 

Fasaki puts his hands into the air in victory and gives the hateful audience a ‘yeah, you know that’s right’ look. He steps through the ropes to the floor and practically dances up the ramp with a cocky swagger.

 

Stevens: “This is unbelievable. After walking out of his match with Jamie Drazon on Storm, Frost doesn’t even show up for his encounter with tag team champion Ejiro Fasaki. This doesn’t bode well for the Velvet Hammer and I can’t see the Suicide King being pleased with this turn of events.”

 

Riley: “Really? Because, I’m tickled pink. Ejiro Fasaki picks up a hard fought, big win and we might never have to see the Velvet BUTT Slammer ever again.”

 

Stevens: “Hard fought???”

 

Riley: “Glad to see you agree.”

 

Stevens: (sighs) “Hopefully, our main event won’t be as anticlimactic. Tom Flesher and Danny Williams square off for the SWF Heavyweight Title…NEXT!”

[Guest Grand Slam]

The Air Canada Centre in Toronto lights up as SWF Lockdown returns from a commercial break, and the fans are on their feet! The crowd is littered with Unholy Trinity t-shirts, with some of the fans already chanting “DEATHWISH! DEATHWISH!” Signs in the obviously partisan crowd include “3 > 7,” “Flesher Fears the Deathbomb,” and many that say, simply, “SHIN CHAMPION!” Mark Stevens and Bobby Riley sit at their table discussing the main event.

 

“Bobby, I’m sorry. I just don’t think that Tom Flesher can withstand much more of this. He’s been in and out of the meatgrinder for weeks now. He’s had the title for just over a month, and he’s defended twice. Frost was in both of those matches, and TNT was in the latest one. He was lucky to make it out of Battleground alive.”

 

“He did, though, didn’t he? Mark, all that matters is what column the plus goes in. Flesher got the W both times, and he’s just too resilient and resourceful to get broken down by a couple of defenses.”

 

“You know, Flesher fancies himself a fighting champion, but I think that’s a very dangerous attitude to have. It leads to things like this – a title defense about every ten days, instead of waiting weeks between them the way other World Champions have in the past. I’m just saying, I don’t think Flesher can take any more of the constant beatings, and Danny Williams is definitely going to be able to pound the will to continue right out of him if he brings his workboots tonight.”

 

“Pfft. Williams wears ring boots, dumbass. Flesher’s the one with the combat boots.”

 

Stevens coughs. “In any event, the Suicide King certainly isn’t making Flesher’s title reign any easier on him than he has to, and with that in mind, let’s go to Funyon!”

 

The crowd applauds as Funyon steps into the ring.

 

“Ladies and gentlemen,” he says, “The following match is tonight’s main event, and it is for the SWF WORLD HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPIONSHIP!” He pauses to give the fans a chance to cheer, and when their pop dies down, he continues, “The challenger…”

 

The gentle melodies of In Flames’ “The Jester’s Dance” float out of the speakers as the crowd pops for the leader of the Unholy Trinity. They chant, “DANN-Y! DANN-Y!” over and over as Williams walks through the curtain with his belt strapped around his waist. He slowly makes his way down the ramp, head held high, and reaches the ring. He climbs the steps, and as the fans continue to cheer for him, he enters the ring. The music fades out, and Danny takes his spot in his corner as Funyon begins his announcement.

 

“Ladies and gentlemen, currently in the ring, from Louisville, Kentucky, and weighing in at 245 pounds, he is the leader of the Unholy Trinity… the SWF ICTV Champion, ‘DEATHWISH’ DANNY WILLIAMSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!”

 

As the crowd bursts into cheers, he is smothered in red and yellow streamers. The fans continue cheering for him as he kicks the streamers away, and as the ring attendants clear them out of his corner, the lights dim.

 

The SmarkTron glows white as the words “SUPERIORITY COMPLEX,” “MAGNIFICENT SEVEN” and “WORLD CHAMPION” fade onto it in thin blue lettering. With that, an explosion of blue smoke and pyro lights up the Air Canada Centre, and Led Zeppelin’s “Kashmir” blares over the speakers. Tom Flesher emerges from the cloud of smoke, striding confidently to the ring as videos of his signature moves alternate in half-second clips with the words "SUPERIOR ONE," "AWARD-WINNING," "MAIN ATTRACTION" and "MAGNIFICENT SEVEN." Flesher enters the ring and poses in the center head bobbing in time with the music, until the symphonic hook at 50 seconds in, which cues a machinegun-like burst of blue and white pyro from each corner. At that point, the music fades.

 

“His opponent,” says Funyon, “is the leader of the Magnificent Seven. In singles competition, he is undefeated since February and stands at a record of 27-8-2. Overall, he is 43-10-2. In short, he stands head and shoulders above the rest of the league. Tonight, he will stand head and shoulders above yet another in the long line of men who he cut from the Magnificent Seven due to simple lack of talent. One more of those men will bow down to glory as Danny Williams bows down before the Superior One, the SWF World Champion, TOM FLESHERRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!”

 

Flesher strips off his warmup top, revealing the SWF World Title strapped around his waist over his warmup pants. He unstraps the belt, hands it to referee Sexton Hardcastle, and then strips off his entrance gear while getting stretched out.

 

 

DING DING DING!!!!!!!!

 

 

“And this one is underway!” says “Grand Slam” Mark Stevens. “These two have been waiting to get at each other for months now, and here’s their chance!”

 

“You mean HIS chance,” grumbles Riley. “Danny Williams has been trying to get at Flesher, but there’s no reason for Flesher to hold a grudge. I mean, he kicked him out of the Mag-7. He was satisfied. What more could he want?”

 

Flesher and Williams both move to the center of the ring. Standing toe-to-toe, their even heights are evident, but Williams’ much-larger upper body commands attention. His thirty-three-pound weight advantage, almost all upper body muscle, stands in sharp contrast to Flesher’s fireplug build. The fans fall to a hush as the champion and the challenger lock eyes, each man staring the other down, hoping to gain the mental advantage. After a moment, Flesher reaches in to try to grab Williams for a collar-and-elbow tieup. Williams, however, feels differently.

 

 

BAM!

 

 

The crowd pops loudly and Flesher staggers backwards as Williams slams an elbow into his jaw! Williams calmly steps forward to close the distance and cracks another stiff elbow into Flesher’s jaw, sending the World Champion reeling toward the ropes! Williams sees Flesher trapped against the ropes and steals the opportunity, turning to hit Flesher with a spinning back elbow… which Tom ducks! Flesher takes a deep breath, but before he can regain his senses, Williams changes direction and spins back to clobber him with an absolutely murderous elbow to the back of the head! The fans pop like a cherry on prom night as Flesher collapses to the mat! Williams drops onto him, quickly taking advantage of the surprise early flurry, and covers him for

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

but Flesher kicks out! As soon as he rolls to his stomach, Williams pulls away and stands up a foot or two away. Flesher looks over his shoulder and sees the angry Williams waiting, then spins around very slowly and comes to his knees, never taking his gaze off of Danny.

 

“Danny Williams gets the one-count,” says Mark Stevens, “and rather than try to grapple with Flesher on the mat, he’s making a smart decision and cutting him loose, bringing him back to his feet. Definitely where he’ll dominate Flesher.”

 

“He’s never going to dominate the World Champion,” replies Riley dismissively. “Williams might have an advantage here or there, but there’s no way he’s going to be able to parlay it into a pin.”

 

“Don’t be so sure… Williams sees Flesher as a target. After all the disrespect Flesher has shown him, Williams sees it as his duty to knock Flesher off his pedestal and become the top man in the company. He’s even put together the Unholy Trinity to do it.”

 

Flesher gets to his feet, being much more careful as Williams stays in his aggressive stance. After a moment, Tom drops to his knees and shoots in, going for a double-leg takedown. Williams calmly takes a step back, then slams his boot into Flesher’s chest! Flesher reels backwards as Williams kicks him once more in the sternum! As the World Champion tries to get his wind back, Danny Williams starts to kick him again, but Flesher ducks it! With that, he slides in and grabs Williams’ ankle, taking him to the mat with a skillful low single leg takedown! Danny rolls to his stomach, but Flesher keeps his hold on the ankle and stands up with it. As Williams struggles to get away, Flesher pulls the foot back to extend the leg and then drops an elbow right into the pit of the knee. Williams bites his lip, resisting the urge to yell out in pain and maintaining his outward appearance of toughness. Flesher stays on the mat to grind his elbow into the tender part of the knee pit, and Williams grits his teeth, refusing to show pain. With that, the Superior One hooks the ankle and steps around into a single-leg Boston crab!

 

“Right in the center of the ring!” says Riley. “Already, Flesher locks up a half-Boston! Amazing! He’s got it all over this kid!”

 

“Flesher nails a single leg takedown and locks up a half-crab, punishing the left leg of Danny Williams and at the same time compressing his back,” says Stevens. “Williams is still fresh, though, and you have to wonder how long Flesher can keep the hold.”

 

Williams fights, pumping his left leg as hard as he can and trying to break out of the hold. At the same time, he pushes against the mat with his right leg, scooting toward the ropes. Flesher feels Williams starting to slide toward the edge of the ring and tries to plant his feet and sit back further with the hold, but Williams is simply too powerful. He gets to the ropes and grabs the bottom strand. Referee Sexton Hardcastle orders Flesher to break the hold, but Tom refuses. The official administers his standard count….

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

THREE!

 

FOUR!

 

Just before he hits five, Flesher releases the leg by slamming the knee to the mat. He walks to the center of the ring, waiting for Williams to get up.

 

“You have to admire him,” says Riley, with a hint of more than admiration in his voice. “He knows Williams is a roided-up drug addict and probably a sexual deviant, so he’s doing everything he can top take advantage of where he knows he owns him.”

 

“… probably a sexual deviant?”

 

“Yeah, you can never tell with freaks like Danny.”

 

Williams gets up and turns to the center of the ring, but as soon as he does, he sees Flesher flying at him with a Yakuza kick! Williams doesn’t have time to duck, and so he absorbs a kick to the face! He falls back, balancing on the ropes, while Flesher slams a palm into his chest! Williams absorbs the blow, staring Flesher down, and then cracks him in the temple with a sickening elbow smash! Flesher staggers backwards, and Williams immediately takes advantage of his confusion by jumping into the air and slamming him in the face with a jumping high kick!

 

“DYNAMIC KICK!” screams Mark Stevens. “DYNAMIC KICK BY DANNY WILLIAMS! Tom Flesher is down!”

 

“Is that legal?!”

 

“You’re not very bright, are you, Bobby?”

 

Williams dives down onto Flesher and covers him for

 

ONE!

 

 

 

TWO!!!!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

KICKOUT!!!

 

 

“Tom Flesher gets a shoulder up before the three-count, but he’s obviously feeling that Dynamic kick,” says Mark Stevens as the camera zooms in to show Flesher’s scrambled gaze. “Williams may be able to strike now and take the win.”

 

“No way!” says Riley. “You think one lucky kick is going to win him the World Title? Come on. Learn something about wrestling, will you?”

 

Flesher sits up, still dazed, as Williams cockily walks around behind him.

 

 

WHAM!

 

 

Williams slams his boot into Flesher’s back, and the crowd goes absolutely wild! Flesher arches his back and grimaces in pain as Williams walks around to the other side.

 

 

CRACK! (WHOO!)

 

 

Williams unloads a chop across Flesher’s chest, and once again, Flesher grimaces in pain, grabbing at his chest.

 

“Danny Williams is showing his power advantage, and maybe, just maybe, psyching Flesher out,” says Stevens. “As I said before, he sees a big target painted on Flesher’s chest, and he wants to shoot him down.”

 

“Sure he does. Every two-bit drug addict has delusions of grandeur, Mark, from Williams to Alex Zenon and right up to that Mexican drug mule, El Luchadore Magnifico. They all wanted to knock Flesher down a notch, but none of them could do it.”

 

“Bobby, Zenon and Magnifico both hold clean wins over-”

 

“Yup… must be horrible to be that delusional, eh Marky Mark?”

 

Williams, a little smirk on his face, walks around behind Flesher once again, nodding at the crowd cheering his every move. He positions himself behind Flesher, measures, and slams his boot into the spine of the World Champion once more!

 

 

WHAM!

 

 

With that, he walks back in front of Flesher and unloads another sickeningly stiff chop across Flesher’s chest!

 

CRACK! (WHOO!)

 

 

As Flesher holds his chest in pain, Williams simply kicks him to the mat as if he was kicking a piece of trash out of his way. The leader of the Unholy Trinity drops onto Flesher and grinds his forearm into his face, covering him for

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!!!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

KICKOUT!!!!!!!!!!

 

 

“Flesher kicks out,” says Stevens, “but Williams is angry, and I don’t think Tom can take a whole lot more of this abuse. I mean, let’s be honest here, Bobby. Danny’s just slaughtering him.”

 

“What, a couple of strikes are a ‘slaughtering’ now?” says Riley with a forced fake laugh. “Flesher’s going to be just fine. Don’t you worry.”

 

Williams, clearly pissed off by the kickout, stands up and stands over the writhing, battered World Champion. Flesher wears an expression that says, “Man, it’s too early for this to be happening to me,” but for some reason, he just can’t summon the strength to work through the fatigue he’s feeling already. He rolls to his stomach and starts to push himself to his feet. As soon as he does, Williams reaches down and grabs him around the waist, pulling him roughly to his feet and applying a waistlock. He ducks his head under Flesher’s shoulder, and the fans’ cheers crescendo as they realize he’s about to nail Flesher with his Dangerous Backdrop!

 

“Holy cow!” says Stevens, having a Harry Carey moment. “Williams is going to finish this one already! He’s going home early, sending Flesher to the showers and taking his title! Amazing!”

 

Williams lifts Flesher into the air, but the Superior One sinks his hips and keeps his feet planted on the mat. As he sandbags, Williams tries to lift him, but Flesher steals the moment and locks on a tight side headlock! The fans gasp, surprised that Flesher is countering the homicidal finishing move with something that simple, but Williams is just unable to lift him any further!

 

“Oh, man,” says Riley, clearly grinning from the tone of his voice. “We’ve seen this from Flesher before, and anyone who’s watched his matches should know what kind of pressure he gets on these side headlocks. This isn’t some silly resthold like it would be if, say, Beezel used it. I mean, jesus! Williams is starting to turn red!”

 

Sure enough, when the camera zooms in, it shows Flesher cranking Williams’ neck so hard that ‘Deathwish’ is turning a bright shade of red. Despite the obvious discomfort, Williams makes every effort to step around and get a better grip on Flesher’s waist to throw him over in a backdrop suplex. Flesher, however, keeps the headlock tight and rolls to the side, slamming Williams to the mat with a side headlock takeover! Hardcastle drops to the mat and counts

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!!!!

 

 

 

but Williams locks his hands and rolls Flesher through onto his own shoulders!

 

 

ONE!!!!!

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!!!!!!

 

 

 

 

 

NO! Flesher rolls through, releasing the headlock and rolling onto his stomach a shade before Danny does! When Williams gets to his knees, Flesher is waiting for him and grabs him in a front facelock, sprawling backwards to extend Williams’ body on the mat and make it harder for him to counter out.

 

“Brilliant!” beams Bobby Riley. “Flesher’s just a brilliant worker, don’t you think, Mark?”

 

“Well, that was certainly a nice little series, but I think Williams is just a little too strong to be held down by a front facelock.”

 

Williams pulls his knees up under his hips, getting to a comfortable base and pushing forwards to put Flesher off-balance. The Superior One keeps his front facelock on tightly, trying to keep Williams down by cutting off the blood flow to his brain, but the Louisville native refuses to be held down! He drives hard to the side, knocking Flesher onto his side and locking on a half nelson! He pulls Flesher’s head up off the mat, driving harder and harder until he comes up on top, chest-to-chest, pressing the World Champion’s shoulders to the mat! The fans cheer loudly as Williams screams for Hardcastle to count the pin!

 

 

ONE!!!!

 

 

 

 

TWO!!!!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

SHOULDER UP!!!!!!!

 

 

Flesher gets one shoulder off the mat, bending his head back to the mat and fighting against Williams’ muscular arm holding him in a half nelson. Williams pulls the head up again, but Flesher arches his back and forces his head back as far as it will go, assuming a textbook high bridge that nearly knocks Williams off! Williams fights it by trying to pull Flesher’s head off the mat, but the Superior One keeps his bridge high and forces Williams off! As soon as he feels the pressure off his body, Flesher flips to the side and comes to rest on his stomach.

 

“Beautiful,” sniffs Riley. “Just beautiful.”

 

“Flesher, going back to his amateur wrestling roots, bridges out of a classical half-nelson pin,” says Mark Stevens. “These two are both very versatile wrestlers, no matter what it looks like. Williams isn’t just a grinder – he’s more than capable of holding his own on the mat as well as in a fistfight. Flesher’s tough as nails, even if he prefers working low to the mat and making people tap. Either one of these men could walk out of here tonight with the SWF World Title, but let me tell you, Williams has a clear advantage in this match.”

 

As Flesher comes up to his feet, Williams grabs him in a front facelock of his own. The fans pop for Williams turning the tables on his rival, and even more as he sprawls backwards and extends Flesher’s body, then leans all 246 pounds onto Flesher’s neck! He slides backwards a bit, teasing Flesher with his unprotected left leg. Flesher takes the bait, reaching in to try to grab it, and Williams smashes his right knee into Flesher’s head! The fans chant, “DANNY! DANNY!” as he unloads knee strike after knee strike onto Flesher’s head! He pulls Flesher up to his feet, still in the front facelock, and callously shucks his head by with a stiff forearm, sending him to the mat face-down. Danny stops to acknowledge the crowd’s cheers as Sexton Hardcastle drops to the mat to check on the World Champion.

 

“Look at the brutality!” says Mark Stevens. “Danny Williams takes Tom Flesher out of the game almost entirely with a series of sickening knee strikes to the head, and Flesher’s barely conscious!”

 

Hardcastle tends to Flesher, holding Williams away, until finally Flesher responds to his inquiries and insists on continuing the match. Williams grabs his opponent and pulls him to his feet, turning him face-to-face. He sees Flesher’s forehead busted open by the temple, but instead of pausing to allow Flesher to regain his composure, Williams simply cracks the Champion in the face with another stiff elbow! Flesher collapses to the mat, oozing blood from his head.

 

“Look at that!” says Stevens, slightly horrified. “Williams kneed Flesher’s head so hard that he busted him wide open!”

 

“He doesn’t even care!” says Riley. “He’s a sadist, Mark! He’s dangerous! Have that man arrested!”

 

“What, that’s so much worse than Tom Flesher forcing joints the wrong way until the bones pop?”

 

“Come on, Mark, that’s wrestling. This is just thuggery.”

 

Williams drops onto Flesher for

 

ONE!!!!

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

THREE- NO!!!!!!!!!!! Flesher gets a shoulder up, and Williams disgustedly gets off. He grabs Flesher by the head and lifts him to his feet, then muscles him to the corner and slams him into the buckles with so much force that Flesher nearly rebounds to the center. Williams, however, simply shoves him back into the corner. He lifts his arm up and hammers Flesher over the head with a bionic elbow smash! He follows up with another, slamming a third time before punctuating the series with an elbow to the jaw! Finally, he steps back to the center of the the ring.

 

“He’s going for a rolling elbow!” shouts Mark Stevens. “Rolling elbow to end it!”

 

“God, no,” says Bobby Riley. “There’s no way Flesher’s going down to something as stupid as an elbow smash.”

 

“Sometimes I wonder if you watch these matches at all,” sighs Stevens.

 

Danny Williams takes a few steps back, then starts his spin. He picks up speed, spinning toward Flesher with an obscene amount of momentum...

 

 

WHAM!!!!!

 

 

“OH MY GOD!” shouts Stevens.

 

The fans burst into a chorus of boos as Williams staggers back after Flesher gets his foot up and kicks him in the arm!

 

“All that velocity,” says Stevens, “all comes slamming into Flesher’s boot! It’s almost like Williams Yakuza kicked himself in the arm! Dear god!”

 

“He’s got the brains, Mark, I’m telling you.” Riley is clearly pleased. “He’s going to take that arm out so Williams can’t use those strikes that make up his whole moveset.”

 

“Like I’ve said a million times,” replies Stevens, “Danny Williams is more than capable of getting by without his arm. You just wait and see.”

 

Williams steps backwards, holding his arm and not quite sure what just happened. The still-groggy Flesher, operating almost solely on instinct, steps forward and lands a stiff palm strike in Williams’ face! Danny staggers, and Flesher grabs him by the tender left arm, whipping him to the ropes. As he rebounds, Flesher plants his feet in the center and lands another Yakuza kick to the shoulder! Williams grabs his arm, grimacing in pain, and Flesher jumps up, landing a surprise dropkick to the kneecap! Williams collapses, and Flesher gets back to his feet just in time to grab his left leg as Danny tries to get away. Quickly, he drops an elbow into the left knee, sending jolts of pain up through the leg. He keeps the leg, bent against the joint, and stands up with it, applying a spinning toehold. Williams’ face twists into a mask of pain, showing his vulnerability for the first time in the match as Flesher torques the leg in the toehold.

 

“Flesher takes control once again,” says Bobby Riley. “Geez, Mark, you must be getting really tired of being wrong.”

 

“This one’s far from over,” admonishes Stevens. “He may have a spinning toehold, but how often does Danny Williams give up?”

 

Flesher drops the left leg and reaches over, grabbing the right leg. A few of the fans pop, knowing that he’s going for a figure-four leglock. He takes a moment to acknowledge the fans with a smirk and wipe the blood from above his eyes, but as soon as he pauses, Williams kicks him stiffly in the stomach! Flesher doubles over in pain, and Williams reaches up to hammer him in the jaw with an elbow! Flesher reels backwards, the wound reopening, and though Williams has to pause to grab his elbow after striking with the tender limb, he quickly pops back up to his feet. He grabs Flesher by the neck and coolly pulls his head forward and into another front facelock! The fans cheer as he locks up the move that turned the tide just a few minutes ago, but Flesher immediately grabs at the sore arm he’s been targeting defensively. He bites down on it with his arm and wrenches it as he pulls it across, freeing himself from the facelock. Abusing the arm even further, he wrenches it behind Williams’ back into a hammerlock and stands up, chest to chest. With barely a pause, he arches back, throwing Williams to the mat onto the hammerlocked arm with a railgun suplex! The fans boo angrily as Flesher rolls onto Williams for

 

ONE!!!!!

 

 

 

 

TWO!!!!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

THREE- NO!!!!!

 

“Williams kicks out of a vicious hammerlock belly-to-belly,” says Stevens. “Just one more example of Danny Williams’ amazing fighting spirit.”

 

“You call it fighting spirit if you want,” says Riley. “I prefer to think of it as stupidity. Why would he just keep coming back for more punishment? And he just does it again and again!”

 

“He does it because it wins him matches, Bobby… something that maybe you don’t remember very well.”

 

Flesher sighs, disappointed that Williams didn’t succumb to the pain. He stands up, grabbing Williams by the arm and pulling him to his feet while managing to get a stiff kick to the thigh in. He jerks the arm, looking for a whip to the ropes. As Williams goes by, though, he keeps his hold on Flesher’s arm and drops to his knees, throwing the World Champion over his shoulder with an ipponzei! Flesher lands on the mat in a seated position, and Williams stands up behind him. He measures, then…

 

 

WHAM!

 

 

slams his boot into Flesher’s spine! Flesher arches his back, grimacing, and Williams unloads another super-stiff kick to his back! Flesher actually screams out loud from the pain, looking utterly pathetic as the blood flows down his face. Williams smirks at the sight of Flesher on the SmarkTron, then jumps up and nails him in the back of the head with an enzuigiri! The fans stand up to applaud, chanting “DANNY! DANNY!” as he rolls over onto Flesher and Mark Stevens shouts, “NEW CHAMPION!”

 

 

ONE!!!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!!!!!!!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THREE!!!!!!!!

 

 

 

 

NO!!!!!! Flesher kicks out at the last possible moment! He gets one shoulder up, instinctively wipes some of the blood away from his forehead, and stays on the mat. Williams gets to his feet, and a huge smile spreads across his face.

 

“What do you think he’s up to?” asks Riley, nervous.

 

“We’ll just have to see,” says Stevens. “Although I can practically guarantee that Flesher’s not going to like it.”

 

Williams grabs Flesher by the head and lifts him to his feet, ushering him over to the corner. He takes a moment to slam Flesher’s head into the turnbuckle, sending misty blood droplets splattering everywhere, and then shoves Flesher into a sitting position in the corner. With a self-satisfied smirk on his face, Williams takes his boot and plants it on Flesher’s face… then scrapes it as hard as he can! The fans cheer as loud as they possibly can for Williams’ stealing of Flesher’s trademark show of disrespect.

 

“Come on, Bobby,” says Stevens. “Admit it. Williams has the advantage here. He’s got it all over Flesher. He’s doing things to Tom that he would NEVER put up with if he was able to defend himself.”

 

“What are you trying to say?” Riley gets incredibly defensive when he’s trying to avoid acknowledging the obvious.

 

“I’m saying that Williams is knocking Flesher off his pedestal! He’s going to walk out tonight not only the World Champion but the top man in the SWF! And there’s no way Tom Flesher can stop him!”

 

Williams wipes the small amount of Flesher’s blood off his boot on the ring apron, then plants his foot on his face and scrapes it again! Flesher reaches up, trying to cover his face like so many people before him, but Williams simply kicks his arms away, and the fans cheer even louder for the leader of the Unholy Trinity. Thrilled by the cheers, but even more thrilled to be embarrassing Tom Flesher, Williams plants his foot on the Champion’s face once more and scrapes it as hard as he can! Flesher covers his face, and Williams uncaringly wipes the blood onto the apron once more before reaching down and grabbing Flesher by both legs. As he drags the bloody mess that is the World Champion to the center of the ring, the fans once again revive the “DANNY! DANNY!” chant.

 

“Bobby, I think this is going to be it. There’s only one way for Flesher to go, and that’s straight down!”

 

In the center of the ring, Williams grabs Flesher and bends him over, locking him in a standing headscissors. The crowd’s cheers swell to their loudest yet; they know a Deathbomb is coming.

 

 

“DANNY! DANNY!”

 

 

The chant is deafening as Williams reaches down, grabbing Flesher around the waist. He starts the lift… but Flesher drops to one knee and breaks the waistlock! He reaches over, trying to grab Williams’ left leg, but the challenger stops him in his tracks with a stiff elbow to the spine! Flesher’s back bows in pain as Williams reaches down and locks his hands around Flesher’s waist once again. He starts the lift… but this time Flesher grapevines the left leg so Williams can’t get him off the mat! Disgusted, Williams releases the waistlock to pound Flesher’s back a little more, but Flesher sweeps the leg out from under him! Danny falls to the mat as Flesher stands back up and grabs the left leg, then the right, and crosses them together. The “boos” from the crowd get louder and louder as Flesher starts trying to step over into the Superior Stretch!

 

“This is it!” says Riley. “Sure, Deathwish broke the hold against Nielsen last week, but after the beating his legs have taken, there’s just no way he can survive it again tonight! NO WAY!”

 

“You may be right, Bobby,” sighs Stevens. “He can only hope to break it.”

 

As soon as Williams feels his ankles being crossed, he starts sliding for the ropes. Flesher, his look of desperation accentuated by his crimson mask of blood commingling with his sweat, starts frantically trying to secure the hold by stepping over. Williams keeps sliding on his back, and as he gets closer to the ropes, Flesher finally steps over and locks on his trademark submission! The fans chant, “DANNY! DANNY!” to cheer on the crowd favorite as he lunges, but finds himself just an inch or two short of the ropes.

 

“Can he make it?” says Mark Stevens, a sense of urgency in his voice. “Can he?”

 

“So what was this about Danny knocking Flesher off his pedestal?” says Riley smugly. “I expect your apology on my desk tomorrow morning, with a copy CC’d to Flesher.”

 

Almost as soon as Riley says that, Williams reaches out, extending his body just a little further and grabbing the bottom rope! The fans applaud as Sexton Hardcastle administers his five-count to Flesher.

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

THREE!

 

FOUR!

 

Flesher breaks the hold a shade before the count of five, but drops the leg only for a moment. He grabs the leg again just after breaking the hold and pulls Williams off of the ropes. Williams, knowing he doesn’t want to get caught in the Superior Stretch again, rolls onto his back to avoid Flesher simply recrossing his legs. Tom controls the right leg, though, and quickly turns with it in a spinning toehold! As he faces Williams again, he takes a second to smirk and mouth the words, “I’ll always be The Man,” then falls to the mat with a figure four leglock! Williams grimaces as Flesher props himself up on two elbows. He stares at Danny Williams, whose face is just a sheer, utter mask of pain. Flesher shouts, “ASK HIM!” Hardcastle obligingly asks Williams if he wants to submit, and the Unholy Trinity’s leader manages to grunt out a “No!” Flesher keeps the hold, looking exhausted but still cranking the leglock for all it’s worth. Hardcastle asks Williams once again if he wants to give up, but Williams refuses to answer. Instead, he reaches up and grabs Flesher’s legs. Desperate, Williams rocks side to side, trying to peel Flesher’s legs apart. The Superior One keeps his legs flexed as much as possible, but Williams finds the strength, somehow, to break the hold! He pulls Flesher’s legs apart and the fans leap to their feet! Williams spreads his legs apart, breaking the hold completely! Flesher cocks his leg and slams a boot into Williams’ tender shoulder, but as Williams holds the injured joint, he keeps his hold on Flesher’s left leg and locks on the crucifix kneebar!!!!!! The crowd explodes!!!!!!!!!

 

 

“OH MY GOD!” screams Mark Stevens. “HIZA JUJIGATAME!!! HIZA JUJIGATAMEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!”

 

Flesher screams in pain as Williams cranks the hold. He flails around as he tries to reach the ropes, missing by only a few inches. He reaches out as Danny screams, “TAP! TAP!!!!!!” but just can’t reach them. Flesher tries desperately to pull himself to the side, still missing a few inches, and screams out loud! He holds his hand up…

 

“Flesher’s going to tap!” says Stevens. “Oh my god! He’s going to tap!!!!!!”

 

“Jesus Christ! What the holy hell?!”

 

Flesher’s hand hovers over the mat as the blood on his face drips to the mat, but finally he reaches out and manages to grab the ropes on one last try! Williams keeps the hiza jujigatame as long as he possibly can, even as Sexton Hardcastle administers his five-count.

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

THREE!

 

FOUR!

 

Williams finally releases the hold just in time to avoid disqualification. He stands up, shaking both his arm and his leg out just a bit before stalking up behind Flesher and grabbing him by the waist! “Dangerous German suplex coming up!” says Mark Stevens as Williams starts his arch back… but Flesher grabs the sort right arm and executes a switch, taking advantage of the work he’s done on it throughout the match! He ends up behind Williams and quickly arches back, dumping Danny onto the back of his head and neck with a released German suplex! Williams lands hard, rolling through onto his stomach as Flesher pauses to regain his wind. Williams starts to push up from the mat, but Flesher grabs him by the head and guides him to the corner, just as Williams had done to him earlier. He holds Williams’ head and slams it into the turnbuckle as hard as he can, then stands behind Williams and lifts him onto the turnbuckle facing the crowd. Immediately, some of the more savvy fans in the audience begin to boo, knowing what’s coming.

 

“Is this going to be-?”

 

“BURNING HAMMER!” shouts Bobby Riley. “He’s going to break that Kentucky Fried Chicken’s neck! That’ll teach him to think he can be The Man in the SWF!”

 

Flesher stands up behind Williams, using the turnbuckles for leverage, and tries to lock on a torture rack. Williams, however, instinctively reaches back and elbows at Flesher’s head! Flesher absorbs the one elbow, too dedicated to give up on the match-ending move. He grabs Williams, but once again, Williams elbows him away! Flesher staggers backwards, and Williams stands up. He jumps off backwards, slamming into Flesher with a flying back elbow! The fans burst into cheers as Williams and Flesher hit the mat together, and Williams rolls over, slowly, to cover Flesher for the win!

 

 

 

ONE!!!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!!!!!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

NO!!!!!!!! Flesher gets a shoulder up at the last moment, and Williams, frustrated, leaps up. He punts Flesher in the ribs, and screams at him to stay down. The fans cheer him on as he unloads another stiff kick to the ribs, then grabs Flesher and pulls him to his feet.

 

“He’s gonna put him away now!” says Mark Stevens. “This is going to be it – he’s going for the Rolling Elbow!!!!!”

 

The groggy Flesher stands at the center as Williams sprints to the ropes, the crowd chanting “DANNY! DANNY!” for him the whole time. He rebounds and steps through like a discus thrower, turning first to the crowd, then back to Flesher with a ridiculous amount of momentum!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“SWEET JESUS! HE CLIPPED THE KNEE RIGHT OUT!” says Bobby Riley as Flesher ducks the Rolling Elbow by diving down and dropkicking Williams’ left knee out from under him! The fans groan, disappointed, as Flesher stands up. His chest heaving, Flesher grabs Williams’ sore left leg. He bends the leg, knowing that Williams has broken one figure four already. With the leg off the mat, Flesher lowers his singlet straps, then bends it behind the barred right leg and falls backwards!

 

“CROSS LIGHTNING! CROSS LIGHTNING!” screams Riley.

 

“Tom Flesher locks on the Cross Lightning, and Danny Williams is in agony!” says Stevens.

 

As Flesher rolls from side to side, torquing the crooked figure four leglock made famous in the SWF by Ced Ordonez, his eyes are focused on Williams. The whites of his eyes stand out in sharp contrast to the slick red blood covering his face as Williams cries out in pain. Flesher cranks the Nagata Lock for all it’s worth, staring at Williams and just screaming, “TAP! TAP!!!! COME ON, TAP OUT!!!!!!!!”

 

Williams reaches for the ropes, but can’t quite make it. He tries pulling himself to the side, but Flesher plants himself on the mat and starts dragging himself toward the center. Williams reaches for the ropes, but his spirit breaks as he sees the bottom rope, his salvation, slowly getting further away.

 

 

 

 

 

TAP… TAP… TAP.

 

 

Sexton Hardcastle calls for the bell.

 

 

DING DING DING!!!!

 

 

Flesher obediently breaks the hold, just happy to be done with the match, as Funyon announces, “Your winner by submission, and STILL SWF WORLD CHAMPION, ‘the Superior One,’ TOM FLESHER!!!!!!!!!!”

 

Flesher slides out of the ring as Williams sits up. Flesher grabs his SWF World Championship belt and wraps it around his waist as the camera focuses in on Danny Williams.

 

“Tom Flesher makes Danny Williams tap to the Cross Lightning!” cackles Bobby Riley. “Ha! Put that in your pipe and smoke it, you roid freak!”

 

“Danny Williams may have gone under tonight,” says Mark Stevens, “but you better believe he’s going to come back and fight another day, and he’s going to be even stronger than he was tonight.”

 

“Jesus, he can’t possibly take any more steroids.”

 

“Damn it, Bobby, you know what I meant. Danny Williams knows that tonight, Tom Flesher leaves the arena as The Man… but…”

 

The camera zooms in on Williams’ disappointed, but still determined, face.

 

“Danny’s going to come back, and knock Flesher right off his pedestal. And that, my friend, is a damn promise.”

 

SWF Lockdown, May 14, 2003.

© 2003 White Apple Productions.

All Rights Reserved

“SWF: Raising Workrate By Typing Faster.”

Edited May 15, 2003 by Suicide King