SWF Storm

May 24, 2003

BOOM!!!!!!

BANGBANGBANG!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Pyro explodes all around as Madison Square Garden EXPLODES as SWF Storm hits the airwaves for Friday, May 23rd, 2003! The screaming New York fans go crazy as the SmarkTron™ displays various signs throughout the crowd. Two fans hold up a massive sign reading “STRANGLER IS FROM BOSTON, WINNERS ARE FROM NEW YORK!” as they jump up and down, excited to be on television. The cameras pan around, catching a few more signs, including someone who looks suspiciously like NTD with a “NEILSEN OF MY MOTHERF**KIN’ JUNGLE!”, as well as signs that read “CRAVEN IS A LUSER” and “SUICIDE KING FOR PRESIDENT”, as well as the classic “JAY DAWG SUCKS” sign. As the pyro finally dies down, the voices of “Grand Slam” Mark Stevens and Bobby Riley enter living rooms across the nation.

Grand Slam: Hello to all our viewers out there, and welcome to SWF STORM! I’m “Grand Slam” Mark Stevens alongside Bobby Riley, and do we have a show for you tonight!

Bobby Riley: For once, my not-so-esteemed coworker has a friggin’ clue. Tonight, the Suicide King has blessed us with not one, but TWO MATCHES that could easily be considered PPV main events, including the first ever free-TV Hell in a Cell matchup, and a TOM FLESHER MATCH! I don’t think tonight could get any better!

Grand Slam: Indeed, Riley. We get to see Neilsen of the Jungle face yet another brutal match as he takes on TNT, Taylor Nicholas Thompson, in a Hell in a Cell match. Plus, Tom Fleshser has to defend his SWF World Title against the first man to pin him cleanly in months, Jay Dawg! Tonight should have no end of surprises!

Bobby Riley: Well, Tom’s going to retain his title yet again, so that’s one match that’s rather cut and dry. And Neilsen will lose, so that’s another foregone conclusion. But that Beezel vs. Sean Atlas match is still WAY up in the air!

Grand Slam: That will be our first matchup of the evening, but first, I’ve been told that we’re about to be joined by…

Before Stevens can finish his statement, The arena goes dim as the opening chords of “Godzilla” by Blue Oyster Cult start to play, sending the crowd into a frenzy. As the song launches into the opening guitar riff, the SmarkTron™ lights up with the name “STRANGLER” in big white letters as a massive burst of white pyro explodes from the stage. As the pyro begins to die down, Strangler emerges from the pyro, drawing a renewed burst of energy from the crowd. He raises one fist into the air as he looks out onto the crowd, then slowly begins to walk down the ramp.

Funyon: Please welcome to the ring, from BOSTON, MASSACHUSETTS, the BOSTON…STRRRRRRANGLER!!!!!!!!!!!

The crowd throws in a few boos at Strangler’s hometown, but cheers run throughout the arena as Strangler walks to the ring steps, and climbs into the ring. He walks over and takes the microphone from Funyon before climbing onto the second turnbuckle and raising both fists into the air. Flashbulbs explode throughout the arena as Strangler poses for a few seconds, then hops off the turnbuckle and into the middle of the ring. The crowd begins to quiet down as Strangler raises the mic to his lips and looks out over the arena, with a happy look on his face.

“Well, even though this IS New York, I’m happy as hell to be here right now. I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again, but I love all the fans. You guys are what make this job worth doing, and thank you so much for all your support.”

Strangler has to pause as the fans show their support by cheering Strangler. TBS looks around the arena awkwardly, unsure of what to do, as the fans finally begin to die down. Strangler holds a second longer, then raises the mic once again.

“Now, since I’ve been back, I’ve been kinda busy. I had a few…issues…with the Suicide King, and life hasn’t been all that easy for me so far. I had a glorified 3 on 1 match against the Tag Champs, a friggin’ Last Man Standing match with Neilsen of the Jungle, and a singles match with TNT, a former SWF champ. King doesn’t take being betrayed all that well. But now he’s busy full-time with causing Neilsen more pain, so I have a chance to do what I came here to do.”

“Now, as you know, when I left here, I was a total mess. I was addicted to steroids, I had major rage problems, and I even forced a man to…to…well, you know what happened. I’m not proud of it, but I worked through those problems. I went to rehab, and I got clean. No more drugs, very little alcohol, and a new outlook on life. When Mark Stevens let me back in here, I had one goal in mind. I was gonna change things, make the things that I made wrong right. And there’s only one place to start: Tom Flesher.”

“When I was at the end of run here last summer, we all knew that Chris Wilson was leaving soon. I had been a loyal second-in-command to Chris Wilson, I had been at the top of the fed all summer long, and I had achieved every goal I had set in front of me, for better or worse. I figured that since I had been doing such a great job, I was gonna be the next leader of the Magnificent Seven, and I was excited about it. I cared about those guys, and I looked out for them. But what happened? Chris Wilson turns me in for steroid use, drills me with a steel chair, and gives my job to TOM FLESHER, some snot-nosed little Clan reject who hadn’t accomplished anything.”

Riley: Strangler, on the other hand, is a TWO-TIME Clan reject!

Grand Slam: Shut up, Riley.

“Well, now I have a chance to show what I can do against Tom Flesher. I’ve known for months and months and months that I was the right choice to be the leader of the Magnificent 7. Look at what happened. Tom Flesher treated his troops horribly! TNT, Frost, Danny Williams…all casualties of Tom Flesher’s ego! He ruined lives! And I know just how devastating that can be! I’m not going to allow Tom Flesher the opportunity to hurt more people! This time, the Boston Strangler is gonna make a stand against the tyrannical ways of Tom Flesher!”

The crowd pops for Strangler as he lowers his mic, with rage visible in his eyes. Strangler quickly raises the mic up again and cuts off the cheering crowd, which quickly dies down.

“Now Tom, I know you’re back there. I know you have a match against Jay Dawg tonight, but I also know that I’ve been waiting for a long time to get my hands on you. So get your ass out of your locker room and come down here and face me one on one!” With that, Strangler drops the mic to his side, and stares up at the entrance ramp.

Riley: Strangler has no right to call out Tom Flesher! Tom, you don’t have to waste your time with this loser!

Grand Slam: If Tom Flesher is 1/10th as tough as he likes to think he is, he’ll come out here and answer the Boston Strangler’s challenge to him!

Strangler stares straight ahead at the entrance ramp, waiting for Flesher as the crowd murmurs expectantly, waiting for the SWF World Champion to appear. Ten seconds pass, and no sign of Tom Flesher has appeared. Strangler raises his microphone again, looking peeved. “Hey, Flesher, I know you’re back there! Get your pathetic power-hungry ass down here NOW!” Strangler drops the mic to his side again and stands back in the middle of the ring, staring straight up at the SmarkTron™ and the entrance ramp as he waits some more. The crowd begins to boo the vacant ramp as Tom Flesher continues to ignore Strangler’s demands. Strangler raises the microphone again, with a malicious look on his face. “What’s that matter Tom, does Jay Dawg have you pinned again back there?” jeers Strangler as the crowd cheers for Strangler’s jab at Flesher. “C’mon, Tommy, don’t make me come back there! If you piss me off, you’re gonna be in a LOT of trouble!” The crowd’s boos only increase in volume as Tom Flesher refrains from gracing the arena with his presence once again. Finally, Strangler raises the mic yet again. “Well Tom, it looks like I’m gonna have to find you myself. But I don’t have a match tonight, and you don’t have one for a couple hours, so I think I have PLENTY of time to find you. You’d better run, Flesher, since I’m not gonna stop until I find you. And if I don’t find you…well, I know where you’re gonna be during tonight’s main event. So look out, Flesher. I’m coming for ya. Strangler has spoken!”

Strangler drops the mic to the ring canvas, which cuts out with a brief burst of static, and rolls out the bottom of the ring. “Godzilla” plays up over the PA system again, drawing another roar from the Madison Square Garden crowd. Strangler walks briskly up the ramp before disappearing behind the stage.

Grand Slam: Strangler is on a mission to find Tom Flesher tonight! I wouldn’t want to be Tom Flesher tonight, that’s for sure!

Riley: Don’t lie, Mark. You want to be Tom Flesher all the time! That’s what happens when you’re as good as the Superior One! Everyone wants to be like you!

Grand Slam: Whatever, Riley. Anyways, we have Beezel vs. Sean Atlas coming up next, and we have our two great main event matches tonight, so stay tuned, folks!

****fade to black****

May 24, 2003

The V'aiga *rimshot*:

Live from Madison Square Garden in NYC!

Singles Match

Beezel vs. Sean Atlas

The new number one contender to the ICTV belt has got to stay fresh until Danny can entertain his title bid! We’ll keep El Scorcho nice and warm by throwing him to the wolf known as Sean Atlas… masked men collide!

Rules: Standard singles match. DQ and Count-Out in effect.

Tag Team Match

Frost and Longdogger Pete vs. Wild & Dangerous

Frost has lost the eye of the tiger. Pete has lost his fire. Wild and Dangerous have lost their winning ways. Let’s see if anyone here can find something, even if it is just an old-school ass-beating of biblical proportions!

Rules: Standard Tag Match. DQ and Count-Out in effect. Use the Tag Ropes.

Non Title Match

Michael Craven vs. Nathaniel Kibagami

Kibagami appears to have his sights set on a very definite goal, if his body doesn’t betray him first. The Nightmare has offered his services to King to help ensure that “Silent” is “ready” for an eventual “match” against Janus. If Kibagami makes it that far, that is.

Rules: Standard Singles Match. DQ and Count-Out in effect.

A Portrait of Mike Van Siclen

MVS as some things he would like to get off his chest…

Tag Titles Match

Dace Night and Danny Williams vs. Justice and Rule

Dace and Danny showed that they had the chemistry to beat an established tag team last show by upending Wild and Dangerous. Well, the Unholy Trinity’s professed goal is to take down the M7, so let’s see if their walk matches their talk!

Rules: Standard tag match, DQs and countouts apply.

Hell in a Cell Match

TNT vs. Neilsen of the Jungle

Hell in a Cell? On free TV? Is King mad? Well, yes. Specifically, he’s mad for the thought of causing Neilsen pain, hopefully crippling him before their match at the PPV! And frankly, if TNT goes down it’s no big loss. Heck, maybe Tod deKindes would interfere just to savagely maul both men. In any event, let’s give them the most brutal stip imaginable in the hopes that neither survives to the PPV.

Rules: Big cell surrounds ring. You win by pinfall or submission, falls count anywhere. Let the pain begin

Main Event

SWF Heavyweight Title Match

“The Superior One” Tom Flesher vs. Jay Dawg

Jay Dawg slipped under the champ’s radar last week, stunning him with a very real, very tangible LOSS. Well, Flesher isn’t going to take that lying down (get it?), and he demanded this match from King. Since the champ gets what the champ wants, and Jay Dawg has more than proved his worth, let the battle commence!

Rules: Standard rules, countouts and DQs apply.

May 24, 2003

We return from the break just as the lights in Madison Square Garden dim down to pitch black. The opening notes of "Heaven's a Lie" by Lacuna Coil resonate as blinding white light shines through the grating on the ramp, illuminating the Storm set. The soft notes play on while the Smarktron shows Sean Atlas' memorable Crucifix Entrance, all to a gradually louder electric guitar that brings the start of the song to a climax......

!*BOOM*!

A colossal explosion goes off onstage leaving behind a misty haze of smoke. As it dissipates, the silhouette of Sean Atlas appears. He walks down the ramp, staring out into the New York while they react to him with complete apathy.

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

Stevens: Seemingly for the first time in its history, the SWF will feature two masked men in one match! The ICTV Number One contender, Beezel, will be taking on Sean Atlas, who went down in a devastating loss to Michael Craven last week.

Riley: I was disappointed in Sean’s defeat last week, but perhaps he can bounce back here against the smaller but faster Beezel.

Sean steps inside the ring and walks along its insider perimeter while his music quickly fades out, giving way to...

"I'll bring home the turkey if you bring home the bacon...."

To the sound of 18,000 thousand screaming New-Yorkers, a sheet of red pyrotechnics explodes on the stage. Through the resulting smoke walks El Scorcho himself, dashing down the ramp while his music plays on: “I'm a lot like you...I'm a lot like you...I'm a lot like you....And I'm waiting...I think I'd be good for you and you'd be good for me”

“And his opponent, from Phoenix, Arizona, weighing in at 205 pounds... BEEEEEEZZZEEELLLLL!”

Mr. B quickly slides in under the bottom rope and charges at Atlas, who stands by the middle of the ropes on the side. Beezel leaps in the air toward him but Atlas ducks down under his airborne opponent, forcing him to land on the middle rope. Beezel balances himself, then springboards off and sends his feet back at Atlas, right into his back!

DING-DING-DING!

Stevens: That secretive Beezel gets this match underway in a hurry!

Riley: Gotta watch you back, Sean. This guy’s quick.

Atlas gets himself off the mat, shaking off the surprise attack from Beezel. But just as he turns around, El Scorcho takes him by the hand and whips Atlas to the ropes. Sean bounces off while Beezel plants his feet, then ducks down while Atlas attempts a running lariat. Sean runs past him and towards the other ropes, springing off them while Beezel sprints at him, leaves his feet, and hits a superb flying clothesline!!

Mr. B rolls through it and stands up while Atlas’ body recoils off the canvas. He gets himself standing as well and looks for the red-suit-wearing man in the ring, but meets his shiny black boot with his gut instead. Atlas doubles over while Beezel swings his arm over Atlas’ head, locking his neck in, and SLAMS him down with a DDT! Referee Billy Chiota drops down as Beezel rolls Sean onto his back and covers...

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

...T...W...O... NO!

Stevens: Atlas gets his shoulder up just as the referee’s arm came down for the two-count. Beezel’s making short work of this match, Bobby. Lightning fast offense and unexpected strikes seem to be working here in the early going.

Riley: The early going, Mark. Since when did the early going decide a match.

Stevens: Good point, fruit loop.

Riley: What?

Riley: Nothing.

Beezel gets himself standing, then pulls Atlas up as well. Taking him by the hand, El Scorcho whips Sean into a corner, where Atlas collides with the pads back-first. From the middle of the squared circle Beezel handsprings off the mat, turning his back to Atlas as he followed up with the elbow... But Sean sidesteps out of the way!

As El Scorcho collides with the turnbuckle pads, Sean faces him again and lowers his shoulder, driving it into the gut of the masked and suited Beezel. Grabbing the middle rope, Atlas backs up... and thrusts his shoulder in again. Backing away a third time, Sean yanks on the rope again and drives the air out of Beezel once more.

Riley: Like I said, there’s Atlas taking the upper hand already.

Stevens: He ought to slow down the pace of this match, keeping the advantage on his side.

Riley: That’s what he’s trying to do – Keep Beezel in check with a controlled, powerful offense. That what gets you wins every time.

He finally stands upright and takes Beezel by the hand, whipping him to the other corner... But Sean doesn’t let go and El Scorcho snaps right back to him, face to face. Atlas quickly wraps his arms around Beezel, pops his hips and elevates the 205-pounder into the air, hurling him towards the turnbuckle...!

But he lands on top of it! Atlas Belly-to-Belly Suplex sent Beezel flying into the corner where he clumsily landed, sitting on the top turnbuckle! To the crowd’s sudden burst of liveliness, Beezel gets his feet higher and onto the top pad, then springs off the rope and towards the standing Sean Atlas in the ring, hitting a Moonsault to take him down!

Stevens: What acrobatics from Beezel, turning the results of Atlas’ offense against him!!!

Riley: Bah. Lucky landing, fortunate timing. You don’t have to orgasm every time a guy flips and lands on top of another guy.

Stevens: So why do you?

Riley: ...

Beezel stands up, hoping to build on the growing momentum. He gets Atlas standing again, but just before he fully situates himself, Beezel quickly kicks him in the knee once... no, twice... no, three times! It takes Sean down to the mat, resting on his own knees. Meanwhile, Beezel runs to the ropes, springs off, and to the delight of thousands of screaming New Yorkers, swings his foot at Sean Atlas’ head...

Stevens: Shining Wizard!! Beezel Douses The Flames once again, hitting the Shining Wizard on Sean Atlas!

Riley: He’s covering....

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

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

NO!

Riley: But Sean Atlas kicks out at the count of two! You gotta admit, Atlas is on resilient bastard.

Steven: Atlas is a bastard Oh yeah, I know Bobby.

Riley: No, a resilient one.

Stevens: meaning he can go with you all night long?

Riley: ...Eat a bag of dicks.

Stevens: Hey, that’s my line!

Growing frustrated but not willing to slow down at any cost, Beezel stands and runs towards the ropes once more. This time he jumps forward, lands on the second one and springs off, soaring through the air as his body flips back, and collides with...

The knees of Sean Atlas!

Stevens: A desperate defensive move by Atlas, lucky that Beezel chose to go with the Lionsault on that occasion.

Riley: That’s how Sean should approach this match, Mark. Catch Beezel off guard and evade his attacks.

Stevens: That is, if Beezel doesn’t evade his first.

Lying on the mat, clutching his gut after missing the Asai Moonsault, Beezel finds himself getting lifted up to his feet. He stands and before he can orient himself, a pain of massive proportions emanates from his chest...

*SMACK*

Ending the barrage of chops when Beezel’s back reached the ropes, Atlas takes him by the arm and whips him across the ring. Beezel runs, bounces off, and makes his way back towards Sean when suddenly, his feet are snatched right out from under him and Sean Atlas elevates him higher... higher... and then...

*SLAM*

Lower and down into the ring with a massive Spinebuster! He immediately gets himself upright and dashes for the ropes closest to El Scorcho’s feet. Springing off, Atlas ducks down, grabs hold of Beezel’s legs and flips over, using the Jackknife Hold to pin the ICTV #1 Contender....

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

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

...NO! Beezel gets his shoulder off the canvas!

Stevens: Beezel must avoid situations like that if he wants to win this match. He’s clearly experienced enough to know that, possibly moreso than Sean Atlas.

Riley: Maybe, Mark, but Atlas knows what he’s doing as well.

Sean rolls off Beezel and sits up on his knees. Rolling Beezel over onto his chest, Atlas stands up and places his feet around the body of the smaller masked man. Grabbing around his waist, Atlas latches on tightly, then gets him off the ground for a better grip and finally, with one powerful heave, tosses Beezel over his head and back down to the canvas with a Wheelbarrow Suplex!!!

Riley: Huge Suplex from Atlas... and he even keeps his hand locked in!

Rolling through after the impact with mat, Atlas stands up behind Beezel, his arms still locked around Mr. B’s waist. He shifts them though, locking on a Full Nelson with one and a Chickenwing with the other. As the sound of the last crowd reaction fades away, jeers no doubt, Atlas lifts Beezel again, carries him over his head and...

...SLAMS him into the ring with the Tequila Sunrise!!

Stevens: A remarkable chain of suplexes by Sean Atlas here.

Riley: Feel like placing bets on which one he’ll use next.

Stevens: Uh, no thanks.

Riley: [placing his money, and that of the fans behind him in a hat] Suit yourself.

After the suplex, Atlas had to let one arm go, but kept a solid grip on the half nelson. Repeating what he did before, he stands up, takes Beezel with him and locks the half nelson in tighter. Using his other arm, Atlas swings around and covers Beezel’s facemask with his forearm, practically locking in...

Stevens: THE KATAHAJIME CHOKE!

Riley: Who had money on that??

But Atlas struggles with it, Beezel’s inappropriately large voice modulator preventing him from locking it in the way he had hoped. Beezel struggles out of it, and in fact nearly escapes before Atlas take shim off the ground and bows back, brings him over and SLAMS Beezel down again with the Katahajime Suplex!

Stevens: Atlas completely the trifecta, executing three Magnificent Suplexes in a row!

Riley: Hah! Nobody picked that one, which means I get all the money!

Stevens: What money? Three bucks, pocket lint and a half-eaten hot dog?

Riley: [Eating] Hey man those hot dogs are good.

Stevens: That looks... so... wrong...

Meanwhile, back in the ring Atlas slowly gets to his feet. The force of the Katahajime Suplex forces the less-than-six-foot Beezel to roll onto his chest upon impact, preventing Sean from immediately covering him. Instead, Atlas takes Beezel’s arm and extends it, yanking him to a doubled-over position as he steps over the extended hand.

Facing away from El Scorcho’s body, Sean positions the arm between his legs and flips forward, catching Beezel with the back of his knees and forces the young masked man over onto his back, covering him with his outstretched legs.

Stevens: A beautiful Stepover Legdrop from Sean Atlas, pulling it off perfectly as he pins Beezel’s shoulders to the mat...

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

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

...T...H...R...NO!

Beezel forces Atlas’ leg off to a rousing ovation!

Riley: Dammit! After so much brutal punishment that little secretive prick still kicks out!

Stevens: Just goes to show you that he’s just as resilient as Sean Atlas is.

Punching the surface of the ring out of frustration, Atlas gets himself standing, though much slower than before. He steps to the near corner to catch his wind, waiting for Beezel to stand up. The fans nearby show their hatred towards him, heckling and jeering the man who claims to have a past connection with these very fans. Sean replies with no words, instead using his common middle finger-crucifix salute. While this rouses the crowd, Atlas turns away, staring out at Beezel who is nearly standing.

He sidesteps to the middle of the ropes and charges at the standing Beezel... ducks for a Spear... but Beezel evades it! He saw it coming and jumped over Sean, who now runs to the other ropes, comes off them and returns to Beezel, leaping in the air for a Thesz Press...!

And Beezel greets him with the dropkick to the chest!

Stevens: What elevation from Beezel!

Riley: That had to hurt him as well as Sean...

As Atlas crashes onto the ring mat he rolls onto his stomach, feeling the pain from Beezel’s dropkick. Mr. B, meanwhile comes over to him, building up whatever momentum began to flow and puts on a gutwrench. Making sure his grip is on tight, Beezel lifts... and swings Atlas over onto his shoulder for Canadian Backbreaker!

Stevens: You know what’s coming, Riley? Do you??

Riley: By the sound of it, you are.

Stevens: Nope. It’s the FIRE THUNDER BOMB!

!*SLAM*!

Stevens: AND THERE IT IS!!!

Atlas’ head jerks back as it hits the canvas, bouncing off as if from rubber. The fans applaud the sudden burst of offense from Beezel, whose energy just keeps growing as he gets up, standing behind Sean while he forces him to his feet. The dazed and unsteady Atlas somehow finds his feet while El Scorcho locks on a Full nelson behind him. The Beezel fans in the crowd already know what’s coming as he lifts Atlas over his head...

AND DRIVES HIM INTO THE CANVAS WITH A TIGER SUPLES!

Stevens: FULL NELSON SUPLEX!

Riley: HE’S BRIDGING!

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

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

...T.....H.....R................NNNOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!

Riley: ATLAS KICKS OUT!

Stevens: Just one more second and the match would be over. There’s nothing left for Beezel to do now but fly!

Beezel seem to be listening to the commentary as he stands up and approaches the corner. By his motions it is clear that El Scorcho is quite frustrated while he climbs the ropes, ascending the pads to get to the top of the corner. With every step of the way, the New York crowd’s anticipation grows, bringing the noise level in the Garden to a zenith. Atlas lies near-motionless just a few yards away, his face likely grimacing under the mask.

Stevens: Can Beezel finish off his masked adversary, Sean Atlas? Can he hand Sean his second loss in a row and prove to be the better man here tonight? Standing atop the turnbuckles, can he execute what everyone here in the Garden knows he’s about to hit - the Meteor Shower?

Riley: HE’S AIRBORNE!

!*CRASH*!

Riley: AND HE’S GROUNDED!

Stevens: NOOO!!! Sean Atlas rolls away just as Beezel crash landed onto the canvas!

Riley: Everyone in the building DID know what he was about to do, including Sean Atlas!!

With Beezel now reeling on the mat, Atlas forces himself to stand and try to regain the advantage. He takes Beezel off the mat and places him on his feet, then pulls Beezel close by his arm. Lifting El Scorcho onto his shoulders, Atlas desperately tries to catch Beezel’s flailing leg for the Fireman’s carry, hoping to secure his body for the Saint’s Demise...

But Beezel gets away and slides down behind him! He wraps Atlas around the waist and drives forward, forcing Sean into the corner chest first. As Atlas’ muscular pecs collide with the top pad, Beezel backs up, plants his front boot on the mat and lifts his other one, propelling it right into the side of Atlas’ head!

Stevens: What a kick by Beezel! The force from that shot turned Atlas completely around!!

Riley: You must love the view from here, Mark. I mean just look at those tights clinging to his bulging, voluptuous...

Stevens: Bobby, please! This is a family show!

Riley: Calves! I was gonna say calves!

Beezel puts on a Front Face Lock and lifts Atlas off his feet. Holding him vertically, the leader of Catch-22 drops him forward atop the turnbuckle, sitting him on the top rope. Not letting the facelock off too much, Beezel steps onto the second rope, coming higher and higher to get to Atlas. Securing himself on the top rope now, he locks the facelock in tightly and prepares to set up the Burning Desire...

Stevens: This is it, Riley, this is it! Beezel’s got to take it here!

Riley: Can he get him up though? Atlas is dangerously close to that 250-pound mark...

Confidently, Beezel lifts Atlas off his makeshift seat and elevates his body into the air, holding him completely vertical. His arm trembles a bit as he holds Sean in place, keeping him as steady as he possibly can. He slowly turns Atlas in, face to face so as to set up the final part of the Burning Desire – a wicked piledriver from an incredible elevation...

Yet he can’t hold him steady! Atlas shakes his legs, wobbling back and fourth while upside down and facing Beezel! Their masks touch, two wrestlers intertwined for the moment, with two more identities underneath! Their eyes meet for a tiny fraction of a second as Beezel tries to stabilize Atlas one last time...

But he can’t do it... Atlas shifts the weight of his body forward, that is behind Beezel, and forces El Scorcho to lose his footing on the top rope and fall on his back, falling towards the canvas with 240 pounds of Sean Atlas about to crush him...

!*CRASH*!

Riley: MY GOD!

Stevens: Sean Atlas just reversed Beezel’s Burning Desire, a top rope Falcon Arrow, into something that closely resembles an Inverted DDT! If ever a move could backfire on a man, that right there had to be it! Beezel...

Riley: Look, Sean’s covering him!

Atlas pins both of Beezel’s shoulders down to the mat, covering him for the win........

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

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

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

The fans simply ERUPT as the red arm of Beezel pops up, getting his shoulder off the mat!

Stevens: HE KICKED OUT! BEEZEL KICKED OUT! ALL IS NOT YET LOST!

Riley: But Atlas has one hell of an advantage right now!

Furious with himself and with Beezel, Atlas forces himself to stand. He takes Beezel’s arm, which he has proudly kept up this entire time, and drags him to his feet as well. Lowering his shoulder, Atlas takes Beezel by the leg and lifts, setting him up for the Saint’s Demise a sond time...

BUT NO!

Beezel once again slides down behind Sean, escaping the Fireman’s Carry! His hand still attacked to Atlas’ Beezel turns Sean around, then lowers his own shoulder and lifts Atlas off the mat across his back!

Riley: What the HELL?

Stevens: THE BURNING HAMMER! In a last ditch effort, Beezel’s using the Burning Hammer on Atlas!!!!

Beezel tries, just as Atlas has tried before, to balance his masked opponent across his back, cradling his head with one arm and supporting his legs with the other. Running on nothing but the last drips of adrenaline in his body, Beezel decides to forgo the balancing part and go straight to the slam as he tilts to the side, driving Atlas’ head down into the mat...!!!!!!

...

NO! ATLAS ESCAPES AND LANDS ON HIS SIDE!

Riley: YES!

Stevens: Far beyond the last possible moment, Atlas manages to break out of the clutches of El Scorcho, harmlessly falling on his side behind Beezel!

Riley: Come on, Sean, this is your moment! Take it and win!

Groggy and spent, Atlas uses the collapsed body of Beezel for leverage as he forces his way back up. He clumsily stands and once again takes Beezel by the hand. Pulling him up, Atlas drags his body onto his shoulders once more, looking to seize the leg and properly place Beezel across his back.

Stevens: Once more time, Mr. B! You’ve evaded this twice already, just escape again!!!

Riley: He wont.... He can’t....

ATLAS JUMPS!

.

...

AND HITS THE SAINT’S DEMISE!

Riley: AND HE DOESN’T! ATLAS HITS IT RIGHT!

Stevens: THE THIRD TIME’S THE CHARM FOR SEAN ATLAS, DRILLING BEEZEL THROUGH THE CANVAS WITH THE SAINT’S DEMISE!

Riley: COVER!!

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

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

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

Riley: ATLAS WINS!

DING-DING-DING!

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

Stevens: It was not to be for the Catch-22 leader as he can only escape Sean Atlas’ deadliest move twice before falling victim to it.

Riley: The battle of the masked men has been won, and Sean Atlas is the victor!

Stevens: It was a heated contest, and likely the toughest that Sean Atlas has had to face since his arrival here. But he overcame the loss to Craven last week, and prevailed over the thread of Beezel here tonight.

Riley: This makes three Catch-22 members that Atlas has beaten so far, right?

Stevens: Correct, Riley. And speaking of Catch-22, Wild and Dangerous is about to take on Frost and yet another man that Sean Atlas beat, Longdogger Pete! Will Johnny and Wildchild suffer a second straight loss, or can they topple the Velvet Hammer and Miami Menace to regain their pride?

Riley: Don’t miss it, NEXT!

To the sight of Sean Atlas rolling out of the ring, catching wind, the view fades out into darkness...

May 24, 2003

Backstage, just after the furious battle between Sean Atlas and Beezel, Atlas walks through the darkened tunnel, emerging from the battle zone that is ring. Ben Hardy, along with his camera-wielding buddy Gus approach him, sticking a microphone in his face.

“Sean. Sean! A word please? We didn’t have a chance to speak with you after your loss to Michael Craven.”

Breathing heavily, Atlas answers “My... loss to Craven? Loss to CRAVEN?” Another heavy breath from Sean... “Forget Craven! I have nothing to do with that cretin!”

Replying, Hardy says “Alright... Then, how do you feel about your victory over Beezel just moments ago?”

”Now that I’m elated about...” Atlas says. “You see this makes him the third member of Catch-22 that I defeated. Mike Van Siclen and Johnny Dangerous were the first two to fall. Now, their wonderful leader and fellow masked man Beezel goes down to me. Once more body and I’ll have an entire stable conquered!”

“That’s... interesting.” Replies Hardy. “Any words about Operation A...”

“Everything’s is going just as I had planned, Ben.” Atlas claims. “That’s all I’ll say for now.”

“But... aww.” Says a disappointed Ben Hardy.

Hobbling away, Atlas leaves Ben Hardy’s side and walks to another area in the back.

Stevens: Well that was certainly odd.

Riley: Odd is right. The fourth man he was talking about defeating is Wildchild. Is that a challenge?

Stevens: I don’t know, Bobby.

Meanwhile, Gus turns the camera back to the tunnel that leads to the ring. Though it walk Wildchild and Johnny Dangerous, on their way to meet Frost and Longdogger Pete in a Tag Team contest...

May 24, 2003

Back from the commercial break, Ben Hardy stands at the Lockdown interview area backstage.

Ben: We're back on Lockdown, we've just seen Beezel and Sean Atlas and now we're talking with ... well ... (glancing to his left) a man who hasn't endeared himself to a lot of people lately ...

Camera pans over to see the shit-grinning Tod deKindes, hands in pockets, eyeing Ben. The raucous New York crowd boos instantly at the sight of the man.

Tod: Hiya, Bill! How's the jaw?

Ben: (remembering that superkick he took from Tod several weeks ago) It's, um, fine. Thanks.

Tod: Here we are, Bob, in good ol' New York City! It's almost summer, people are breaking out the short shorts and the hot pants, the sun is hot and shining! And the air! The sweet New York air! Can you smell that? (takes a large whiff) Smell it.

Ben: Well --...

Tod: Smell it!!

Ben: (sniffs) ... Doesn't really smell that go-- ...

Tod: Y'know what, you're right. I think that's you, do you even SHOWER? God ...

Ben: If we can get back to business ... There's no secret that you have it out for TNT, Taylor Nicholas Thompson. A couple weeks ago, you cost him a match against Judge William Hearford. However last monday, we were in Atlanta, GA for Smarkdown and you were nowhere to be seen. If I may ask, where were you last monday night?

Tod: Dude, my feet were TOTALLY killing me all weekend so I had to stop by my buddy Lomez in Podunk, Iowa and he gives these WICKED pedicures, and I -- ... You know what, this isn't about where I was! I'm here. End of story.

Ben: I feel the need to point out that tonight TNT takes on Neilsen Of The Jungle in a brutal Hell In A Cell match. Granted, you have no history with Neilsen, but it's been heavily rumored that you're gonna have an impact on this match, but more precisely, what are you gonna do to TNT?

Tod: (furrowing his brow) ... Rumors? (sputters) Impact?? Where do you get YOUR news, TheSmartMarks.com??! Pfft!! Now, it's no secret that I am infinitely superior to TNT, but even *I* know when to step back. I don't personally know Neilsen Of The Jungle, but he looks to me like quite the violent little fella! Add to that TNT who can't even wrestle his way out of a hat, I think I'm just gonna sit in the back and quite rightly enjoy this nice little massacre. THANK YOU ... very much.

Before walking off, he adjusted Ben's lapel and gave him a friendly slap on the cheek.

Ben: Urgh ... Back in a sec.

May 24, 2003

FADE IN

We kick off immediately with the sounds of 50 Cent’s “In Da Club.” The crowd cheers excitedly as the sensational rookie tag team, Wild and Dangerous, come bursting out from behind the curtain.

From inside the ring, Funyon begins his introductions. “Ladies and gentlemen, the following tag team contest is scheduled for one fall! Making their way to the ring at this time, at a total combined weight of four hundred twenty-seven pounds… WILD! AAAAAND DAAAAANGEROUS!” Wildchild and Johnny jog down to the ring and slide underneath the bottom rope, where they bounce back to their feet and run to the ropes to pose for the crowd.

“This is an important match for Wild and Dangerous,” says Mark Stevens. “In fact, it could very well turn out to be a must-win situation for them; they came out of Battleground with a lot of momentum, but have since hit a little bit of a losing streak.”

“I can’t help but laugh when I think about Wild and Dangerous’ losing streak,” adds Bobby Riley. “I mean, they actually tried to make a case that they belonged in the same building as Justice and Rule, much less the same ring. And, they haven’t won a match since!”

“They have indeed run into a little adversity,” concedes Stevens. “Perhaps they’ve hit the rookie wall. But, they look focused and ready to give it their all tonight. And they’re going to have to against Frost and LDP!”

“Frost hasn’t been the same since Flesher humiliated him,” says Riley with a smile. “And I love the way King has saddled that has-been LDP with the never-was snow man! If I didn’t hate Pete so much, I’d almost feel sorry for him!”

“In Da Club” fades out and silver-ish pyro explodes from the rafters as Black Sabbath’s “Snowblind” begins to drift out through the speakers. The fans in the garden explode as a pale blue spotlight bathes the entrance ramp and snowflake-shaped confetti falls from above the SmarkTron. From behind the curtain, the Velvet Hammer walks out, side-by-side with Longdogger Pete.

“Their opponents,” says Funyon, “at a total combined weight of five hundred seventy-three pounds, first, from Miami, Florida, the Doggah! LOOOOONGDOGGER PEEEETE! And, his tag team partner, From Reykjavik, Iceland, the Velvet Hammer, FROST!” Frost approaches the ring rather listlessly, as though on autopilot, while LDP appears to be trying to get him pumped up.

“Pete’s definitely got his work cut out for him,” notes Stevens. “Frost doesn’t look at all happy to be involved in this match.”

“And that bodes very badly for the two of them,” adds Riley, “because they easily have a physical advantage over Wild and Dangerous, but if Frost isn’t making an effort out there, Wild and Dangerous might manage to steal one!”

Frost and LDP step into the ring and make their way over to their corner. LDP continues to try and motivate Frost in the corner. “Let’s go, Frost,” says Pete. “The sooner we get this match done and over with, the sooner we can get the hell out of here!” With a roll of his eyes and a loud sigh, Frost turns back towards the ring, his name-brand cigar still clenched between his teeth. Across the ring, Johnny steps out onto the ring apron and Wildchild walks towards the ring to greet Frost as the referee motions to the time keeper to start the match.

Wildchild extends his hand to Frost in friendship, but the Velvet Hammer just stares coldly back at him, arms at his sides. Perturbed, Wildchild gets up in his chest, looking up at the Ice Giant and shouting, “Hey! What’s your problem, man?” In response, Frost raises his right arm and palms Wildchild’s face with his hand, shoving him backwards to the canvas.

ZOT!

In response, an enraged Wildchild surges off the mat and charges Frost with lightning speed, surprising the Velvet Hammer with an uppercut that sends the cigar flying from his mouth. Frost looks down at his lost cigar, and then turns his attention back to Wildchild. He swings wildly with his left arm and quickly follows with the right, but the Bahama Bomber easily avoids both punches. Wildchild swings upwards towards Frost’s face with a right hand of his own, but the Iceman stops him cold, blocking the punch and engulfing Wildchild’s entire fist within his massive left hand. With a sudden flash of intensity in his piercing blue eyes, Frost begins to squeeze Wildchild’s hand as if it were caught in a vice grip, forcing the Tropical Tumbler down to his knees in pain.

WHACK!

Johnny rushes into the ring to try and save his partner, but Frost lifts his right leg up as he sees Johnny approaching, and drops the Secret Agent as he runs at full speed into Frost’s boot!

“Frost may not want to be here,” shouts Stevens, “but it certainly looks like he’s not going to lay down for the rookies!”

The effort Frost required to boot Johnny required him to turn a fraction of his attention away from Wildchild, which affords him just enough opportunity to stun Frost with a punch to the midsection. Wildchild gets his hand free and scrambles to his feet, kicking Frost in the gut to press the advantage as Johnny rolls back to his feet. The referee barks at Johnny to go back to his corner, and begins to deliver a five-count as Johnny and Wildchild back Frost against the ropes and double-whip him to the opposite end of the ring.

ONE!

TWO!

THREE!

WHAAAAM!

Frost surges off the ropes with an unexpected burst of speed, and knocks both members of Wild and Dangerous to the mat with a breathtaking double-clothesline! Wildchild gets to his feet first, and is greeted by the Velvet Hammer, who scoops him up and sends him back down with a slam! Johnny gets to his feet and receives the same fate!

Wildchild charges Frost as Johnny rolls outside the ring and manages to easily duck Frost’s big boot attempt. He runs to the other side of the ring and leaps into the air as he bounces off the ropes, but the Iceman from Iceland catches him in midair! The crowd cheers as Frost looks out into the audience, and then drops down, smashing Wildchild against his knee with a crushing rib-breaker! He picks him back up with alarming ease and drops him back onto his knee again. He then picks him back up and slings him over his shoulder as he heads over to his corner. Frost makes the tag to LDP and lifts Wildchild onto his shoulders as Pete steps into the ring, tossing him into the air and dropping him face first onto the top turnbuckle with a half-hearted Snake Eyes!

The Doggah runs to the ropes as Wildchild staggers back out of the corner, but the Bahama Bomber manages to leapfrog to safety just in time to avoid a spear attempt from LDP. Pete scrambles to his feet and charges Wildchild, swinging for the fences with a vicious overhand right, but Wildchild side-steps him, and then surprises Pete, the crowd, the announcers, and even himself, by spitting into Pete’s face!

The audience let’s out a collective gasp as Pete wipes the spittle from his face, and Wildchild’s eyes become wide with panic as Pete suddenly charges after him! Wildchild runs towards the ropes and slides out of the ring for safety, but Pete gives chase, pursuing him all the way around the ring! Wildchild races around to his team's side of the ring and slides back in underneath the bottom rope, where he makes the running tag to Johnny, and tries to run back out the other side of the ring as Pete climbs in behind him, but Frost is there to cut him off on the other side! LDP charges Wildchild, unaware the legal man is Johnny, who steps into the ring behind him. Wildchild leapfrogs over the running Doggah, and races to the opposite end of the ring as Pete rebounds, only to be met by Johnny and taken down with a drop toehold.

WHAM!

As Pete bounces up off the mat, Wildchild charges his at full speed, and smashes him in the face with a running knee! The referee orders Wildchild to leave the ring, and he exits to the ring apron without a struggle as Johnny turns Pete over and begins hammering his back relentlessly with stomps and elbow drops.

“Looks like Wild and Dangerous have decided to be the aggressors in this match,” notes Stevens.

“I’m not too thrilled about the idea of either of these two teams winning,” says Riley, “but, if the two little losers can beat the two big losers, I guess I’ll be happy.”

Pete slowly lifts his head off the mat, and looks up towards his partner standing at their corner. He extends his arm as he begins to crawl towards his partner, but Pete is stopped when Johnny lands another good-sized stomp into his back, causing LDP to shrill in pain! Johnny hovers over Pete’s back then drops to his knee’s reaches back and grabs onto one of LDP’s legs, pulls it up and onto his shoulder!

“The Barracuda is locked in,” exclaims Mark. “Between his ring rust and the beating that Johnny just put on his back, I don’t know how long Pete will be able to hold out!

“Nor should he,” quips Bobby, “staying in this match with that hunk of dead weight, Frost, is just going to put a quick end to Pete’s comeback trail! A wise man knows when to tap-tap-tap, and in this case it’s Longdogger Pete who needs to just throw in the towel on this match AND Frost!”

Pete cries out in pain as he pushes himself up with his hands, but Johnny keeps the move locked in no matter how loud he screams! The Referee is quick to swoop down and ask Pete those words no man will confess to agreeing to: “Do you give up, Pete?”

Pete shakes his head no, while gritting down on his teeth, trying his damndest to shove the pain aside!

“Come on, Pete,” shouts Stevens. “You can get through this! Don’t give in, damn it, DON’T give in!”

The crowd gets behind the Doggah, cheering heavily, chanting “LDP! LDP! LDP!” Pete slams his fist into the mat... and with all the energy he can possibly muster, JERKS HIS LEG BACK, AND RIPS IT OUT OF JOHNNY’S GRASP!

“YES,” Stevens celebrates, pumping his fist into the air along with the audience!

Johnny goes tumbling backwards from the surprising turn of events, but it’s not enough to keep him down, and he quickly pops back up to his feet! Pete painfully pulls himself up, but before he can dive towards Frost and make the tag, Johnny stops him dead in his tracks, grabbing hold of his arm and swinging him for the ropes! Pete flies into the ropes, and rockets off of them, headed back towards Johnny as the Barracuda lowers his head down and...

CRACK!!

Pete stops just short of falling back into Johnny’s hands, and quickly slings the toe of his boot into Johnny’s forehead, knocking the Secret Agent flat onto his back! The crowd begins to lose control, screaming and cheering, but Pete will waste no time this time around! As quick as his legs will carry him, Pete hobbles towards Frost, dives towards him, and smacks his hand!

“FROST IS IN! FROST IS IN,” shouts Stevens. “Lets hope he can turn this thing around!”

For a moment, Frost stands on the outside apron, holding onto the Tag Rope, still holding his hand out as if he were still awaiting a tag.

“Come on, Frost,” cries Pete. “We need you!”

Obliging with a nod, Frost finally steps through the ropes, and stomps his way towards Johnny Dangerous, who props himself up on his elbows.

Frost rushes towards Johnny, extends his elbow, and falls towards the Barracuda’s sternum... NO ! With no time to spare, Johnny rolls himself out of the way, leaving the canvas wide open for Frost’s elbow!

WHAM!!

Frost lets out a low groan as he draws his arm back, rolls over onto his back, then sits up and stands to his feet. With ample time to recover, Johnny slides in behind the Velvet Hammer, and catches him just as he spins around with a vicious Spinning Heel Kick!

CRACK!!

“WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON!” cries Mark! “Frost isn’t even TRYING!”

“How can he?” replies Bobby. “Johnny is just to fast for him!”

“Please, Bobby! I KNOW Frost is better than this! Johnny’s a fine young athlete, but let’s be honest, he’s not on Frost’s level yet!” Mark frowns at his own words. “He’s holding back! The Frost I know would never just stand there and let someone toss him around like a rag doll! WE NEED THE OLD FROST BACK!”

“The one who was a Tag Team Champion along with, Tom Flesher,” asks Bobby quizzically. “I mean Tom did carry him all throughout that, but still...”

“ NO ,” snaps Stevens, cutting Riley short! “I’m talking about the one that came SO close to defeating Tom Flesher for the SWF World Heavyweight Championship at Battleground!”

The shot knocks Frost straight off his rocker, and stumbling into the ropes as his mind begins to wander... Thoughts of everything that has transpired race through his brain, but then the words of Longdogger Pete come back to him:

“... You love wrestling, you love being in that ring. You can’t let Tom Flesher take that away from you and give him a bigger victory than pinning your shoulders to the canvas ever would!”

Whoosh!

CRACK!

The Velvet Hammer’s head is knocked side ways as Johnny’s lethal Spinning Heel Kick SLAMS into the side of his jaw again, causing Frost to stammer a few steps forward, dropping to his knees while resting his upper body against the ropes.

“COME OOON, FROST!” Pete is almost to the point of screaming at the top of his lungs, as he frantically bangs his hand against the top of the turnbuckle, hoping that some how, someway, Frost will snap out of it!

“What the hell is he doing,” asks Riley. “He is just standing there like a plumb fool, taking kick after kick from Johnny Dangerous!”

“It doesn’t even matter,” mutters Frost to no one in particular, spitting a stream of blood from his mouth as Johnny takes a step back, gearing up for another dosage.

“It matters to the fans!” the voice in his head screams back at him. “It matters to a lot of guys in the back!”

“No,” again Frost mumbles out loud. Several feet behind him, Johnny hunkers down and begins to loudly stomp his foot into the mat, anticipating Frost to turn around towards him!

WHOMP!

“Johnny Dangerous; looking for an opening for that Johnny Kick,” says Stevens. “If he gets this off it, I don‘t think EVEN FROST can withstand the effects!”

“Tom Flesher is the exact type of guy this business and our fans don’t need! All those factors should matter to you!”

Again the name, “ Tom... Flesher ,” echo’s through his mind.

WHOMP!

“No,” mutters Frost, gritting down hard on his teeth. The mere thought of the ONE who destroyed his will, causes his normally icy blood to boil. His breaths begin to draw heavy, and his heart POUNDS so loud you could almost feel the aftershocks as he grabs onto the top rope, and PULLS himself to his feet!

WHOMP!

Gazing towards his corner, towards his partner, Longdogger Pete, frantically trying to get his attention, hoping up and down on the apron, waving his arms, and shouting his name! “At least he believes,” thinks Frost as he glances briefly at Pete, then at the crowd. “And so do they...” Frost raises his eyes up and looks out to the twenty thousand fans; standing on their feet, cheering wildly while chanting his name!

“FROST!”

Slowly the Velvet Hammer releases his hands from the ropes and turns-

“FROST!”

-The Barracuda takes a hop forward off one leg as he kicks his other leg up and out, with it’s sights set on the chiseled jaw of Frost-

“Tom... Fucking... Flesher... has won.”

“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!”

Frost lets loose a bone-chilling roar as he snatches Johnny’s foot out of thin air with both hands, rears back with his mighty arm... AND SLAMS IT SMACK DAB IN TO THE MIDDLE OF JOHNNY’S FOREHEAD WITH ENOUGH STRENGTH TO LEVEL FOUR CITY BLOCKS!!!

WHHAAAAAAMM!!!!

“OH MY GOD,” shouts Mark Stevens, standing from his seat, looking on in pure awe. “Could it be?”

“No way in hell,” replies Bobby, nervously fidgeting with his fingers. “The Frost you knew and for some God awful reason loved is dead... isn’t he?”

As Frost’s enormous fist crashes into the Barracuda, Johnny is swept clear off his feet, flipping completely over and landing flat on his stomach with a TREMENDOUS thud!

“YES,” cries Pete. “COME ON FROST! YOU CAN DO IT, BABY!”

From the safety of his corner, Wildchild’s mouth drops open wider than Grand Canyon, shocked beyond all disbelief at the blow his partner just took! Johnny himself can’t really even register the blow just yet, however he manages to stand back to his feet - completely stunned out of his mind, and staggering back and forth as if punch-drunk, as Frost throws his arms into the air, leans back, and lets loose a MIGHTY battle cry!

“YES! YES! YEEES,” cries Mark Stevens, shouting at the top of his lungs to make himself audible over the utterly BALLISTIC crowds! “FROST IS BACK!” BY GOD! FROST! IS! BACK!! And I don‘t think Longdogger Pete could be ANY happier!”

With his eyes bulging wide open, and his mouth quivering, Riley can’t even think of anyway to possibly no sell the current predicament

The ring shakes with each step Frost takes as he comes charging across the ring like an out of control Freightliner, swings out his fist, and SLAMS it straight into Johnny’s jaw, knocking the Secret Agent back a step!

WHAM!

Another enormous punch to Johnny’s jaw, and SOMETHING goes flying from his mouth, while the Barracuda is knocked completely around!

WHAM!

Again, Frost’s hand ROARS into Johnny, knocking him back even farther, and farther until...

WHAM!

... Backing Johnny clear back into the ropes! With his back towards the ropes, Johnny leans against them with his elbows, desperately trying to simply survive, but Frost grabs Dangerous by his arm and TEARS him off the ropes! With one hand still gripping the Barracuda’s arm, Frost grabs onto Johnny’s back with the other and whips him with authority towards the far ropes! Johnny hits the ropes, bounces off, and goes SOARING back towards Frost, who easily scoops Johnny off the mat and slings him HIGH over his back, sending the Barracuda on a one way collision course with the canvas as the crowds absolutely ROARS in delight!

WHAAM!!

“Frost, by God,” says Stevens, “Is completely decimating Johnny Dangerous. He doesn’t have a prayer of hope against the Velvet Hammer with his rage unleashed!”

“The hell he doesn’t,” snaps Riley. “Any moment now and Frost is going to start crying like a straight Punk Bitch, then he’ll just sit their like a lamb waiting to be slaughtered!”

Johnny cries out in pain, wincing as he grabs onto his back and arches it off the mat, but there will be no rest for this weary Secret Agent! Frost drops down over Dangerous, and presses the palm of his hands against Johnny’s chest for a pin. The Referee, as always, drops to make the count...

“ONE!”

“TWO!”

Wildchild steps his leg through the ropes, entering the ring, but...

“NO,” shouts Mark Stevens. “Kick out just after two! Johnny may have sustained some serious damage there but it’s going to take a little more than that to put Wild and Dangerous down!”

Pointing his finger straight towards Wildchild as he jumps up to his knees, the Referee needs not say anything at all to get the Bahama Bomber back in his place - He obliges, however distraught.

“Wildchild desperately wants to get in there,” says Mark, “A tag to him would be wise on Johnny’s part.”

“Yeah,” replies Bobby, “you try getting over there with three hundred pounds of lard laying on you!”

With a good chunk of Johnny’s jet-black mane in his hand, Frost jerks him to his feet... and TIGHTLY grabs onto Johnny’s neck! Wildchild watches as Frost grabs Johnny’s outside arm and slings it over his own, before deciding he can’t bare to just sit there and watch ANYMORE! He leaps onto the corner turnbuckle, then without even a second of hesitation hurls himself into the air towards Frost with a Flying Cross Body! The Iceman's reflexes kick in, however, and Frost quickly releases Johnny and opens his arms out as Wildchild comes speeding in, SNATCHING him right out of the sky, and sparking a surge of cheers from the fans!

“WHOA,” shouts Mark. “Nothing can stop Frost, he is ON FIRE!”

Frost takes a step backwards, then arches back and flings Wildchild over his head, SLAMMING him into the mat, while falling back himself! Wildchild lets out a horrendous cry of pain, quickly bolting into an upright position, and pushing himself up to his feet! Frost closes in, wrapping his mammoth arms around Wildchild’s waist from behind, ripping him off the mat, falling backwards, and releasing the Bahama Bomber in the midst of a German Suplex! The Caribbean Cruiser slams neck first into the canvas, bounces up, flips over, and rolls right under the bottom rope, to the open floor below!

“This is terrible,” whines Bobby, contrary to the fans that shower the Velvet Hammer with a never ending round of cheers. “Why is the Referee just standing there, letting Frost attack Wildchild? He’s not even the legal man!”

“Then why the hell is he even in the ring?!”

With the Wildchild disposed of, Frost grabs Johnny by the chin as he is beginning to drag himself to his feet under his own power, and THRUSTS the Barracuda’s head in between his legs!

“THIS IS IT,” shouts Stevens excitedly, with the fans loudly echoing his sentiments. “Frost and LDP are going to go for Tag Team Gold! Early Winter coming right up! Frost has gone from non factor to the winning factor in this match!”

Frost reaches down and under hooks Johnny’s right arm, then reaches down with his other hand for Johnny’s left, as he cocks his head to the side... Suddenly, the Secret Agent pulls his arm back, fighting desperately for his life, and hooks onto the Velvet Hammer’s leg! Quickly he rips his other arm free of Frost’s grasp, grabs onto the other leg of Frost.... and... and...

“No! He can’t possibly be that strong,” says Stevens, wide eyed.

... RISES UP, SENDING FROST TUMBLING OVER HIM, AND INTO THE MAT NECK FIRST WITH A BACK DROP!!!

“Dear Lord,” cries Grand Slam with the crowds actually cheering for the Dangerous One! “The will power Johnny Dangerous posses is simply unparalleled!”

“I told you so!”

Johnny grabs onto his back, but like Wildchild before him, Pete isn’t about to let Johnny Dangerous turn the tides of THIS war, and begins to step through the ropes, growling ever so menacingly! Seeing LDP about to enter the fray, Johnny suddenly gathers himself and sprints towards him, pivots, slices his foot through the air, AND NAILS PETE FLAT IN THE KISSER JUST AS LDP STEPS ALL THE WAY INTO THE RING!!

KA-RAAACK!!!

“JOHNNY KICK,” cries Bobby as LDP‘s head snaps back, and he stumbles backwards into the ropes... and right over the top, tumbling straight to the outside floor! “I’ll bet Pete didn’t see that one coming!”

“Not much good it’s going to do,” retorts Stevens, “Frost is the legal man, not Pete! And speaking of the devil...”

Frost charges in from behind, slamming his extra large balled up fist into the Barracuda’s spine, sparking a hollow sounding thump much to the crowds delight! Staggering forward while clenching his teeth and grimacing, Johnny reaches out for the nearby ropes for support as Wildchild returns to the apron on the opposite side of the ring. But Frost grabs onto his arm and forcefully spins Johnny back around, then in one fluid motion whips Dangerous towards the far ropes-

- But Johnny slams the breaks on, and with some serious effort, spins back around and sends Frost to the ropes instead! At the exact same instant, Wildchild, still recovering on the apron, sees Frost headed straight for him like an out of control Seven-Forty-Seven on a nosedive with the ground! Without hesitation, he hops onto the top rope, bounces off, and flips beautifully through the air just before he opens up with both legs stretched straight out, and SLAMS them into Frost’s chest!

CRAAACK!!

“Shooting Star Missile Dropkick,” shouts Stevens, “and deep into the heart of Frost, but I think it took all Wildchild had to deliver that!”

Frost grits down hard on his teeth as he stumbles backwards from the stinging blow, and grabs onto his chest, with his eyes locked dead on with Wildchild, as he kneels on the canvas, unaware of the “Danger” coming in from behind!

“WATCH OUT FROST!” Stevens takes a deep gasp of air, and holds it, waiting in anticipation.

Johnny grabs onto Frost’s arm and slings it over his shoulder, while reaching down with his other arm and grabbing onto the Icelandic Beast’s leg...

“HERE IT COMES, MARK!”

In less time than it would take Frost to think about his cigar sales, the Barracuda hauls him over as he makes a ninety-degree spin and... SLAMS him ever so viciously into the mat!

WHHAAAAAM!!!!

“MI Slam,” says Stevens, gulping on a wad of his own spit. “Surely this isn‘t the end!”

“Oh it is, baby, it is!”

Quickly, Johnny grabs onto Frost’s leg and rolls back on it, trying his hardest to make sure this over stuffed taco shilling Monster stays firmly placed on the mat. As expected, the Referee drops to make the count, but not exactly as expected, Pete pulls himself to his feet on the outside, and peers into the ring; much to his dismay he sees the pin. While letting out a low groan, Pete grabs onto the bottom rope with one hand for support, and uses his free hand to pull himself into the ring...

“ONE!!”

Trying as fast as he possibly can, Pete rolls to his feet, and stumbles towards the pin fall...

“TWO!!”

With a few feet to go, Pete throws his body through the air, reaches out with his fist...

“THREE!!” WHAM!!

Pete dives at Johnny and nails him squarely in the back, jarring him loose off of Frost, but not in time, and rolls over onto his back in exasperation as he hears the sound he didn’t want to hear ring out from this end...

DING!

“By God,” says Grand Slam, “Frost and Longdogger Pete nearly had it! If Pete could have gotten there just a fraction of a second sooner, this match might still be going on!”

“Ah, but he didn’t.” reminds Bobby. “Looks like Frost, though back with that certain zeal in his eyes, is STILL a loser!”

“The winners of this bout,” bellows Funyon, “by pin fall, at ten minutes and thirteen seconds... WIIIIILD ANNNNND DANGEROUUS!!!!”

“In Da Club” begins to pound from one side of the arena to the other, but after THIS match, neither Wild nor Dangerous is about to stick around. The two quickly roll themselves out of the ring, and make for the backstage, stopping only once they reach the safety of the top stage, and turn towards the crowds and raise their arms in victory.

With the ring cleared of all but them, Frost is helped to his feet by LDP. He smacks his hand against his head, knocking loose the cobwebs, and as he looks out towards the crowds... is shocked to hear them cheering, even after he took a hard loss.

“The fans.” he says to himself as he steps over to the corner turnbuckle, climbs up to the second rope, and raises his fist out to them! Pete follows the lead, grabbing his own corner of the audience, and celebrating in the same fashion!

“Win or loss, Frost has regained his fire!” says Stevens. “By the looks of it, I would say they are taking this loss in stride! I’m sure Pete is just happy enough to have the old Frost back! I wonder how Tom Flesher is feeling now after seeing this?”

“Pfft, Tom can’t be bothered watching other peoples matches,” says Bobby. “It’s not like he NEEDS to watch and pick up any pointers! He is better than each and every man, woman, and child in this arena AND the Federation!”

Inside the ring, Frost pumps both fist to the crowds as the cheer and chant his name, leans back and lets loose another battle cry! Rejoice young followers... for Frost... is back!

As we:

Fade Out

May 24, 2003

As SWF Storm comes back on the air following the last match, we are treated to a view of the backstage area, and the ever smiling mug of Ben Hardy and the intangability of Gus. The cameraman follows the ever-nosy interviewer as he heads through the corridors of the arena, stopping at a door and reaching out to knock on it...but the door swings open before he touches it, revealing none other than Nathaniel Kibagami. He looks down at Hardy and blinks once, and only once.

"Not now, Ben. I have a match."

He steps past the interviewer, but Hardy jogs by his side as the silent one walks down the corridor. Gus walks backwards in front of Kibagami, tracking him and Ben as they walk down the corridors. The interviewer tries to ignore the fact that Nathan doesn't really want to talk to him.

"Uh...Nathan...before your match...could you spare a word?"

Without slowing down, the ex-Clannite replies. "I said I have a match now, Hardy. I don't have time for this."

"Just a few quick ones?"

The almost pleading look on Ben Hardy's face makes Kibagami almost roll his eyes, and he nods once as they continue walking. Immediately switching into sunny-happy-nosey interviewer mode, Hardy speaks.

"Your thoughts on your encounter with the commissioner last show?"

Nathan frowns faintly. "I'm...not at liberty to speak my mind on that."

"Your thoughts on your match tonight with Michael Craven??"

"He's good, but I'm not as rusty as he's probably hoping I'll be. What else?"

Gus backs around a corner, and as Nathaniel and Hardy come around said corner, Kibagami stops in his tracks, staring with focused intent right at the camera. Unnoticing, Ben Hardy tries to continue his line of interview, asking Nathan about his opinions on Janus.

"Your thoughts on Janus, Nathan? ....Nathan? Hey, Nathan!"

"Look." is all the ex-Clannite says, nodding his head towards the camera. Both Hardy and Gus turn in the direction Kibagami nods in, and they both jump in surprise. Standing there, with white hair hanging in his face, a long white trenchcoat covering his muscular body...is Janus. Gus backs away, trying to get into a position where he can see both wrestlers as they stare at each other in the corridor.

"Nathaniel," the giant rumbles softly.

"Janus," is Kibagami’s even reply. The ex-Clannite looks slightly defensive, as if expecting an assault.

"Are you worried about being hurt, Nathan? I'm on…vacation, until Lockdown. Your time isn’t now."

The giant's bleakly calm expression splits into a cold grin.

"....it's at 13th Hour."

Kibagami's lip starts to curl into a smile at the challenge, but he shakes it off and just stares evenly at the monster.

"What do you want?"

The giant takes about two steps forward, closing the distance between the two of them drastically. He reaches out as if to grab Kibagami by the shoulder, but pauses - and Nathan takes a step back, not trusting the giant's words at all. Janus tilts his head back, letting the hair slide out of his face as he stares at Kibagami with gleaming red eyes.

"I want...to know why...you're not fighting at your full potential."

Kibagami paused. "You know about my neck. How can I fight at full...."

The monster interrupts, that cold grin slipping onto his face again.

"You misunderstand. I'm talking about your full potential "

Nathaniel Kibagami lifts his eyebrows slightly at the specific emphasis the giant puts on the words, until something seems to dawn on him. It brings a half-scowl, half-frown to his face as he stares right back at the seven footer.

"It’s not necessary for this match – or for you,” Nathaniel sneers. “It never has been. Now get out of my way...I have a match."

The giant tilts his head for a moment, as if contemplating, and then steps to the side, gesturing with one huge arm for the ex-Clannite to continue on his path. Eyeing the giant suspiciously, Nathaniel Kibagami steps past Janus and continues, leaving the surprised Ben Hardy standing alone. Gus follows the giant's movement as he turns towards the departing Nathan, uttering an ominous promise.

"Oh, I think you might need it yet....Silent One."

With that, the feed cuts back to the ring for Nathan's upcoming match...

May 24, 2003

Strobe lights pulse to the beat of the guitar in the background as Audioslave’s “Cochise” kicks in, smoke spewing from vents in front of the entrance ramp as the camera starwipes back in from a commercial for Frost-brand Job Trains©. Golden waterfalls of pyro similar begin flowing from the top of the SmarksTron, and a huge pyro blast kicks up from the front of the stage as the guitar drops.

“Welcome back to SWF Storm, ladies and gentlemen!” shouts Mark Stevens from behind the announcer’s table. “We’ve got a lot of matches left to get through tonight; for those of you just tuning in at home, we’re preparing for a match between US champion Michael Craven and the recently returned Nathaniel Kibagami!”

Suddenly, as Chris Cornell begins to sing, a spotlight shines down on Michael Craven, standing on stage, his shiny SWF US Title wrapped around his waist. He stops turning to look at the fans, and quickly, he spins around twice, finishing by pointing to himself and his title. The New York crowd is hardly shy about voicing their disapproval of the US champion as he hopes over the top rope and into the ring; the camera picks out one sign in the crowd that says simply, “craven (adj.) – cowardly”.

“Ladies and gentlemen, this matchup is scheduled for one fall. Introducing first, weighing in at two hundred and eighty pounds, hailing from Tampa, Florida, he is the SWF United States champion…MICHAAAAAAAAAEL CRAVEN!”

“Michael Craven has been on a roll since winning the US title back from Mike Van Siclen a few weeks back,” notes Stevens. “And he’s volunteered his services, for lack of a better term, to our commissioner tonight in this match against Nathaniel Kibagami!”

”Not that we actually need the US champion to soften Kibagami up for 13th Hour,” snorts Riley. “Judge Mental did a decent job of dismantling him on Smarkdown, I thought.”

”Bobby, he won with a roll-up. And a handful of tights.”

“After sounding trouncing Nathan, you’ll recall.”

”Were we watching the same match, Riley?”

”Apparently not, Mark. You really should pay better attention.”

Craven hops off the second turnbuckle, oblivious to the boos from the crowd, and hands his US title to Sexton Hardcastle for safekeeping. The Nightmare turns towards the entrance ramp, awaiting the arrival of his opponent for the evening.

The arena goes completely dark, save for the SmarksTron, where a red ankh, surrounded by flames, dominates the screen. For about five seconds, there is total silence – only the low buzz of the crowd can be heard. The entrance lights, now colored a dark red to match the ankh above them, slowly begin to rise as “Forty-Six and Two” begins…

“Introducing second…weighing in at two hundred and sixty-eight pounds, hailing from Phoenix, Arizona…NATHANIEL KIBAGAMIIIIIII!”

A brilliant explosion of white pyrotechnics momentarily blinds the audience and obscures the top of the ramp. As the pyrotechnics fade, Nathaniel Kibagami comes striding the through the smoke left in their wake. Nathaniel makes his way to ringside, nodding to a fan here and there as he passes by, and slides into the ring. He rolls to his feet and springs onto the nearby turnbuckle, where he assumes the crucifix pose, illuminated eerily in red for a brief moment before the lights come up and “Forty-Six and Two” fades away. He hops off the turnbuckle and turns towards the opposite corner to face Michael Cravan as the lights come up and the referee signals for the bell.

DING DING DING!

”And here we go!” yells Stevens over the roar of the crowd. “Nathaniel Kibagami looked impressive in his match against Judge Mental last week; let’s see if he can keep up with the United States champion this week!”

”I wouldn’t expect a long match, Mark,” cautions Riley. “Michael Craven is a fighting champion, and any loss while that belt is around his waist is a hard one for him. This isn’t a title match, but I don’t think that matters to the Nightmare. Kibagami’s going down, and he’s going down hard.”

The two men approach each other in the center of the ring, each one trying to stare the other down. Kibagami says something that the microphones surrounding the ring don’t quite catch, and Craven responds in kind. The jaw jacking continues uninterrupted for a few seconds, before…

SLAP!

The US champion slaps Nathaniel hard across the face, drawing a round of boos from the Madison crowd!

”Did you SEE that, Mark?” exclaims Riley. “Craven just BITCHSLAPPED him! This match is going to be fantastic, I can already tell.”

Nathaniel turns his head back to his smirking opponent, rubbing his jaw slightly with his left hand…

BAM!

…before slamming his right hand into Michael Craven’s chest, sending the champion staggering back into the ropes! The crowd pops as Michael catches himself on the ropes, a slightly surprised expression on his face as he regains his balance.

“Hard shotei from Nathaniel, and it doesn’t seem like he’s lost a step to me, Riley.”

“Bah, a shotei’s not a bitchslap. Craven clearly has the…he has a psychological advantage right now.”

Michael Craven pushes himself off the ropes, more than a little angry, and right into a lockup with Kibagami. The two men, both of equal build, strain against each other for a long moment, seeking a strength advantage and finding none. Craven is the first man to make a move, drawing back from the tie-up and grabbing a side headlock in one fluid motion. The champion grimaces slightly as Kibagami slams a knee into his ribs, but he holds on to the headlock and flips Nathaniel over onto his back, pinning his shoulders to the mat.

ONE!

Nathan is quick to kick out, but the Nightmare is even quicker to reapply the headlock as Kibagami rises to his feet. Kibagami responds by slamming a knee into the champion’s ribs again…and again…and again, forcing his opponent to pull away and give him room to breathe.

CRACK!

Nathaniel belts Craven with a stiff kick to the ribs, and the crowd pops at the sound of Nathan’s boot impacting on Michael’s ribcage.

CRACK!

Another kick, this one to the chest, staggers the US champion, and Kibagami measures him for a third strike as Craven tries to regain his wind.

“Kibagami’s kicks are just as dangerous as ever. You might be right, Riley – this could be a very short match.”

The former Clansmen pivots on one foot, aiming a third kick at his opponent’s temple…but Michael Craven manages to get his guard up in time to block the kick, grabs hold of Nathan’s outstretched leg, and spins violently to his right, taking Kibagami down with a quick dragon screw legwhip.

The Nightmare quickly rolls to his feet while Nathan lies on the mat, trying to shake off the effects of the dragon screw. The champ grabs hold of Nathan’s right leg and drives his elbow into the knee, grinding it back and forth as violently as he can. Nathaniel grits his teeth and tries to fight his way out of it, so Craven simply stands up while holding onto Kibagami’s leg and steps around into a half-crab.

“Beautiful maneuver from Michael Craven, taking a page out of Tom Flesher’s handbook!” exclaims Riley. “If Craven’s really been studying tapes of the Superior One, Kibagami obviously doesn’t have a prayer!”

“Riley, a half-crab is a pretty common move.”

”Yes, but not everyone can execute it with that sort of precision.”

Kibagami inches his way towards the bottom rope, pulling himself along the canvas as best he can…but Craven pulls back harder on Nathan’s right leg, effectively putting a stop to his progress. Kibagami struggles, trying to get to the bottom rope, trying to roll out of the hold, but the Nightmare is much too tenacious to release his grip on his opponent’s leg. Nathan goes limp for a moment, considering his options…

CRACK!

…and manages to kick the US champion flush in the nose with his free leg, breaking the hold! The crowd pops for Kibagami as he rises to his feet, calmly shaking off the effects of Craven’s assault on his leg. Before Craven can regain his composure, Nathaniel closes the distance between them and drives an elbow sharply into the side of his opponent’s head! Michael stumbles back into the ropes, and Kibagami takes the opportunity to grab hold of his opponent’s arm and whip his across the ring. As the Nightmare comes bounding back off of the ropes, Nathaniel charges toward him…and just before the two collide, he leaps into the air, plants one foot on Craven’s thigh, and slams the other into the side of the champion’s head!

CRACK!

Michael Craven drops to the canvas like a bag of bricks and quickly rolls to the outside to avoid further punishment, while Kibagami stands tall in the center of the ring, smiling a little as the fans cheer him on.

“Impressive Shining Wizard from Kibagami! You have to admit, Riley, he looks fairly comfortable in the ring for somebody who’s just taken four months off.”

“Bah. All I’ve seen from him so far is gymnastics. That’s not so impressive, really. Now real, honest-to-God mat wrestling? That might impress me, but I just don’t get the impression that he’s up to it.”

“I think you’re just upset that Kibagami’s not wearing a singlet.”

”Just what are you trying to insinuate?”

”Oh, nothing.”

Michael Craven slides back into the ring, his head still ringing from the Shining Wizard. The two men circle each other briefly in the center of the ring before Kibagami lunges forward into another collar-and-elbow tie-up. The champ once again goes for the side headlock, but this time Nathan is prepared and delivers a bone-crunching knee strike before Craven can extract himself from the collar-and-elbow. Kibagami continues driving his knee into Craven’s ribs, slowly driving his opponent across the ring and towards the ropes.

A final knee to the ribs sends Michael out of the tie-up and into the ropes, and Sexton Hardcastle steps in to pull the two men apart. As he does so, a thoroughly winded Craven scrapes the heel of his boot down Kibagami’s shin, ending with a sharp stomp on his foot. Nathan, stunned by the sudden sharp pain, recoils from his opponent, hopping a little on his left leg as the crowd boos Craven’s nefarious cheating.

“Oh, please, Craven! That was entirely too Memphis,” quips Stevens.

Riley sighs. “I know. Wasn’t it beautiful?”

Kibagami moves towards the center of the ring, trying to shut out the pain in his right leg…but with his back to his opponent, he’s unable to counter when the Nightmare lifts him up from behind, folds his right leg back with his free hand, and drops it on his outstretched knee with a sharp shin breaker! Nathan falls to the ground, clutching his leg, and Craven rises to his feet, a smug smile on his face.

The Nightmare drops to the canvas and fluidly applies a leg lock, grinding his elbow once again into the tender part of Nathan’s knee. The hold does not elicit the expected ‘screaming in pain’ response from Kibagami, so Judge responds by slamming his elbow repeatedly into the pit of the knee. The crowd starts a small “boring” chant to pass the time as the US champion goes to work on Kibagami’s injured limb.

“Michael Craven is going to take Nathan’s leg out of his hip and take it home, have it stuffed, and hung above his fireplace mantle after this match!”

”I’m not convinced that Craven’s made a smart decision in going after Nathan’s legs, Riley.”

”And how’s that? If he can’t kick you, he can’t win. It’s very simple logic, Mark. I thought even somebody like you would pick up on that.”

As if to reinforce Riley’s point, Craven rises to his feet and begins stomping as hard as he can on Kibagami’s exposed right knee. The sounds of flesh striking flesh reverberate through the ringside arena, drawing a few cringes from the fans in the front row…and a small cheer from a teenager in the front row, wearing Justice and Rule hoodie and holding a sign that says “This Is The Worst Show I’ve Ever Seen”.

“That may be true, Riley, but Nathan certainly has other weapons in his arsenal.”

”It’s a regular match, Mark. He’s not allowed to use the cane.”

”I give up on you, Riley. I really, truly give up.”

The champ delivers a final stomp to Kibagami’s leg before applying a picture-perfect figure four. This time, a shout escapes Nathan’s lips as Craven wretches back on the hold. He struggles from side to side, trying to reverse the hold, but the Nightmare holds firm…and as Hardcastle checks on Kibagami to see if he submits, the Judge grabs the second rope to add leverage to the hold!

”Now, that’s just blatant cheating!” exclaims Stevens.

“What cheating? I’m sorry, the referee doesn’t seem to have made any sort of call. What cheating are you talking about?”

The crowd boos Michael’s tactics resoundingly – so much so that Hardcastle looks over at the US champion, who releases the ropes JUST in time to avoid getting disqualified. Sexton asks Craven a question, and the Nightmare vehemently shakes his head no…but in conversing with the referee, he’s given Kibagami the opportunity he needs to roll over onto his stomach and reverse the hold! The crowd pops like a cherry on prom night as Michael Craven flails madly at the ropes, eventually latching on to the bottom rope to break the hold. Hardcastle separates the two wrestlers, and Nathan rolls away as Craven slowly hobbles to his feet.

Craven walks over to Nathan, who has risen to his hands and knees, and plants his boot squarely in Kibagami’s ribs, sending the former Clansmen sprawling onto the mat. The Nightmare cockily saunters over to his fallen opponent, plants the heel of his boot on Nathaniel’s face, and spins sharply to the left, a satisfied smirk on his face as the crowd vocalizes their disapproval. As Kibagami clutches his face, Craven places his boot firmly on Nathaniel’s chest and gestures for Hardcastle to make the count.

ONE!

Kibagami’s shoulder jolts up from the mat as he rolls onto his stomach, knocking Craven back a step and almost causing the Nightmare to lose his balance. Angered, Craven quickly drops an elbow on the back of Kibagami’s neck before straddling his opponent and applying a sloppy camel clutch, pulling back as hard as he can on Nathan’s often-injured neck.

“See, Mark?” crows Riley. “Craven just wanted to immobilize Nathan before he went to work on the neck! It’s a brilliant plan, I tell you. This match should be over shortly. Look, I think Kibagami’s going to tap right now.”

Nathaniel raises his hand…and starts pulling himself towards the ropes! Craven wretches back on his opponent’s neck even harder, prompting a warning from Sexton Hardcastle, but Kibagami continues his progress…and successfully snags the bottom rope, prompting a cheer from the crowd!

ONE!

TWO!

THREE!

FOUR!

FI – Craven, disgusted, releases the hold just before Hardcastle finishes his count. The US champion steps back a little from Kibagami, who rises to a sitting position; the Nightmare measures his opponent, then charges towards him, slamming Nathan’s head into the mat with a sharply-executed flipping neckbreaker! Craven rolls gracefully to his feet, a smile on his face as he picks Kibagami up from the canvas and shoves him backwards into the nearby turnbuckle. The Nightmare backs up several paces to the center of the ring and assumes a three-point stance as Kibagami strives desperately to shake the cobwebs out.

Craven charges at his opponent, quickly gaining speed…

SLAM!

But Kibagami ducks out of the way at the last possible minute, sending Michael Craven careening shoulder-first into the steel post behind the turnbuckle! The Madison crowd cheers wildly for this shift in momentum as Nathaniel stumbles to his feet.

“Craven misses the Sonic Boom, and Kibagami’s got a chance to turn this match around!”

”Pfft. Mark, he’s got no chance. It’s not like he’s going to be able to kick his way to an advantage after that figure –“

CRACK!

Nathaniel slams his foot into the small of Craven’s back as the US champion extracts himself from the turnbuckle!

Riley shakes his head. ”Aw, DAMN it.”

The Nightmare winces in pain, stunned, and Kibagami is quick to take advantage of the situation, cinching in a waistlock on Craven and heaving him backwards with a picturesque German suplex, bridging backwards as he does so and pinning Michael’s shoulders to the mat!

ONE!

TWO!

Craven rolls out of the pin, a little surprised by Kibagami’s resiliency – and just a little angry at being one second away from losing.

“Kibagami was quick to take advantage of the situation, but Craven’s still fresh – it’s going to take a lot more than that to put him down for the count!”

Already on his feet, Nathaniel charges at his opponent, looking for a Yakuza kick, but Craven sidesteps the blow at the last possible moment! Before Kibagami can get his bearings, the champ hooks an inverted facelock on his opponent and spins quickly to the left, driving Kibagami’s jaw down onto his shoulder with an inverted spinning neckbreaker!

”Diamond Bullet!” yells Riley as Craven makes the cover.

ONE!

TWO!

THR – Kibagami kicks out at the last possible minute!

“What the hell? Ref, that was a three-count!”

”Bobby, Craven counted to three, not the ref.”

”Ahhh, the ref did it too slow! C’mon, ref!”

Frustrated, Craven shoves Hardcastle out of the way as the referee tries to check on Nathaniel. He picks Kibagami up from the mat and hoists him onto his shoulders, then tosses him up and around, bringing his head down onto the canvas with a sickening thud!

”Craven Driver!” shouts Riley. “Nathan landed right on his head, Mark! That’s GOT to be all!”

ONE!

TWO!

THREE!

NO!

Kibagami kicks out, and the crowd virtually explodes! Nathan rolls underneath the bottom rope, seeking some safe haven, as Craven yells obscenities at Sexton Hardcastle, displaying three fingers to emphasize his point. Hardcastle responds with a finger of his own, drawing a staggering pop from the New York audience as he does so!

”He can’t disrespect the United States champion like that! Can he?”

”He’s the referee, Riley! His word is law inside the squared circle, and Craven would do well to remember that!"

Craven stares at the defiant referee for a moment before swallowing his pride and returning to the match at hand. The champ drags Kibagami out from underneath the bottom rope and hooks on the Craven Clutch! Nathan does his best to claw his way back to the safety of the ropes, and the fans cheer him on!

KI-BA-GAM-I! *clap, clap, clapclapclap*

“There’s simply no way Kibagami makes the ropes. Ash…I mean, CRAVEN!” stutters Riley. “CRAVEN has been working his neck the entire match! He’s got to tap!”

”No, he hasn’t, Riley. Craven’s been rather impatient in this match, and it’s hurting his focus. I think Kibagami’s got a lot left in him, and the Nightmare needs to pick a strategy and stick with it. Otherwise, he might find himself unpleasantly surprised as this match continues.”

The Nightmare tries to dig his feet into the mat, to find some purchase where he can use leverage to his advantage, but Kibagami is just too strong, and with one last burst of strength, Nathan makes the ropes, much to the crowd’s delight!

ONE!

TWO!

THREE!

FOUR!

FIVE – Craven releases the hold JUST in time to avoid a disqualification. Furious, he gets right in Hardcastle’s face for breaking the count, drawing the ire of the crowd once again as he does so!

“Taking his frustrations out on the referee again...Craven had this match well in hand, but he’s losing his temper, and that could end up costing him!”

”Costing him what, Mark? Like you said, he’s got the match under control. Maybe a better wrestler could capitalize on something like this, but Kibagami is two matches out of a retirement he shouldn’t have left. Craven doesn’t NEED to be at 100% to win this match.”

Turning away from the referee, Craven’s attention comes to rest on the turnbuckle…and he smiles to himself as he makes his way towards it. Kibagami rolls over, catches a glimpse of Craven climbing the turnbuckle…and promptly closes his eyes, choosing to play possum, much to the crowd’s delight!

”Damn it! CRAVEN! HE’S PLAYING POSSUM! DON’T DO Immmppphhhh!” Riley is abruptly shushed as Stevens clamps his hand down over Riley’s headset microphone.

Craven pauses for a moment, perched atop the turnbuckle, and surveys the crowd…he leaps off the turnbuckle and begins to backflip…but as he does so, he sees Kibagami roll out of the way! Adjusting himself slightly in midair, the Nightmare manages to land on all fours, averting a minor disaster. He pivots on one foot, sees Nathaniel charging at him, and ducks a tremendous lariat from the former Clansmen! Kibagami bounds across the ring into the ropes and comes flying back towards Craven…

CRACK!

Only to be caught dead between the eyes by a stiff forearm shot! Nathaniel falls to the mat, the crowd boos…and Craven draws his thumb swiftly across his throat, signaling for the end of the match!

The Nightmare picks Kibagami up off the canvas and hoists him onto his shoulders, an evil look on his face.

“It’s time for the Gulf Coast Crunch, Mark! Nobody kicks out of that one!”

Craven throws Kibagami backwards, lifting him into the air…but as he does so, Kibagami grabs hold of Michael’s left arm and pulls it close to his body. Before Craven can react, Nathaniel wraps his legs around the Nightmare’s neck, pushing his left arm hard against the US champion’s jugular vein! The two men crash to the mat, almost at the same time, with Kibagami locking in the triangle choke on a surprised Michael Craven!

“Kibagami has the triangle choke locked it!” exclaims Stevens. Riley’s face looks a little ashen as Craven struggles briefly, trying to find the ropes…but he’s in the center of the ring, and his vision is fading fast…

Tap, tap, tap.

DING DING DING!

“Your winner by submission…Nathaniel Kibagami!”

Kibagami stumbles to his feet, looking more than a little surprised, as “Forty-Six and Two” begins to play over the loudspeakers. The crowd cheers his victory as he climbs out of the ring, still looking a little dazed, and makes his way back up the entrance ramp. In the ring, an angry Craven refuses Sexton Hardcastle’s help, rising to his feet under his own power and snatching back his US title as he makes his exit from the ring.

“Nathaniel Kibagami takes the victory over Michael Craven in truly impressive fashion!”

”Bah! Craven was in control of that match the entire time. If it wasn’t for…if he hadn’t…if Kibagami had…”

“Bah, nothing, Riley. Kibagami takes the victory, and that’s all that really counts.”

”I suppose you have a point, Mark,” sighs Riley. “But mark my words, Kibagami didn’t win that match through any skill or strategy.”

The camera cuts to a shot of a tired Kibagami, standing victorious at the top of the ramp.

“The man got very, very lucky in that ring tonight…and I’m pretty sure he knows it.”

We starwipe out to a commercial.

May 24, 2003

We return to Storm, only instead of going directly to the familiar electric-blue set we shift our attention to the SmarkTron, where a video package illustrating the SWF/JL career of Mike Van Siclen plays. It fades out, leaving us with nothing but thin white lettering...

A Portrait Of Mike Van Siclen

We shift once again, as the white lettering gives way to a darkened library backdrop, two leather chairs with human ass in them. On the right, the interviewee, Mike Van Siclen... on the left, the interviewer, Jake Millicent. Millicent leans forward and begins the interview, his deep, rich voice commanding the crowd to pay attention to it.

"(Jake) My name is Jake Millicent, and welcome to the first edition of the A Portrait Of... series. Tonight, we sit down with Mike Van Siclen for a rare peek inside the creative mind of one of the most experienced wrestlers currently in the SWF. Mike, welcome."

"(Mike) Great to be here, Jake."

"(Jake) Now, Mike, we've of course got to start with a clip from October, 2002. Matt Myers had..."

"(Mike) Jesus, we're bringing this up again?"

"(Jake) It's one of the things you'll be remembered for, tapping out to a ref."

"(Mike) Look, Jake, I've been there before. William and I talked a bit before the match about the current champion, and he basically said that as much as he hated me, he was sickened by the man with the belt and wanted to see someone else get it. Of course, he then went on to make me tap out - and I can live with that, because he's been running long enough. As far as I'm concerned, the next time I step into the ring with the Judge, the only thing people will be remembering is the act of violence that is committed."

"(Jake) Okay. Let's shift gears a bit... way back, when you first joined the then-IGNWF, you were referred to as the Snow Demon. What prompted that move?"

"(Mike, laughing) Well, actually, it came to me in a dream. I swear - I was asleep one night, and all of the sudden I saw this demonic snowman in my dreams, and I thought - this would make a kick-ass gimmick."

"(Jake) Of course, it didn't."

"(Mike) That's pretty obvious."

"(Jake) Anyway, after finishing up with this gimmick you became "Vanilla" Jeremy Miller..."

"(Mike) Ah, yes. The golden age of dance. See, I had been watching a lot of old WWF tapes at that point, and I saw some Too Cool on there. And you know, I was easily inspired at that time, so it basically turned into "Gee, how do I draw fans, oh, I know, I'll dance like a fool." Didn't quite work out as planned, though."

"(Jake) Indeed it didn't, as you would eventually get yourself kicked out, in storylines, for putting on such poor performances. From here you took a six-week hiatus - what was your reasoning for this?"

"(Mike) Actually, I took the time off because I was really questioning my career as a wrestler at that point - I had gone ten months and hadn't ascended above Television title range, so I was starting to wonder if I was really cut out to be a wrestler. So, I was offered a part in a movie, and I took it up to see if it was a career I wanted to be in."

"(Jake) What was the movie about?"

"(Mike, chuckling) It's a pretty poorly-done c-movie, actually. Think Jackass crossed with Wheel of Fortune, and you've pretty much got it. It was called "Jackoff Fortune", if you feel the urge to go rent it."

"(Jake) Heh... anyway, you came back under the name Mike Van Siclen, with a gimmick that was a throwback to the overconfident, goofy heels of yore. Who came up with this gimmick?"

"(Mike) Actually, this one was my idea too - I had long idolized Chris Jericho, and upon my return from shooting Fortune, I wanted something that didn't involve a finisher called the SLIDE. So I decided to adopt a lighter, more entertaining gimmick. Hence... Mike Van Siclen."

"(Jake) And as we all know, shortly after your change to the Mike Van Siclen gimmick, the IGNWF became the SWF, and the talent influx began. During all of this you were locked in a feud over the Television Title with Shawn Brody, eventually defeating him in a match for the European Title. How did it feel, to come back and claim so much gold despite having such a lukewarm career prior?"

"(Mike) Well, Jake, it's quite simple - the fans really took to the character right away, and this motivated me to elevate my game to a different level - the European title."

"(Jake) Shortly after your victory over Shawn Brody, you lost the European championship to Tom Flesher, and in the rematch got your leg broken by him. How did that feel?"

"(Mike) Well, looking back on it me and Tom both laugh, because at the time I thought he was a d**khead rookie and he thought I was an overrated hack, and so right after I hated him for coming in and taking my title and breaking my leg. Of course, I got over it once Flesher started to skyrocket up the card, and even now I'll joke with him about how he stole my gimmick, and how I made his career with that one match."

"(Jake) After you returned from injury you floundered around a bit, before coming back and joining the sWo. What was that like?"

"(Mike) Oh, all the sWo guys were pretty cool. Fugue and I were pretty close, same with Mak, and everybody loved Y2K for no real reason. Of course, Spike was a bit of a spacehead, but at the time he was extremely good at what he did and I respected him for it."

"(Jake) After you split from the sWo you started doing some cross-promotional work with the OAOAST. I understand you got jobbed out quite a bit."

"(Mike) This I did. The guy in charge of the OAOAST, Stevie P, he wasn't terribly fond of me and Fugue and Judge and Tim coming in and showing up all of his guys, and then when we stopped caring - at the time they were the bushiest of the bush leagues - he took it out on me. (Mike shrugs) I did pick up a win over Angle-Plex though, which was cool. I would really like to go back there, just to beat the s**t out of Steve, but I'm content knowing that he couldn't last a month here."

"(Jake) Around the same time as the cross-promotion was happening Genesis III was coming up, and you found yourself booked into a four-way with Judge Mental, Fugue, and Thor. A lot of people thought you had the match won, so what did you think when Mental got the win?"

"(Mike) Well, I was pissed, natural - it was a lot like when Tom beat me for the Euro. I had worked so hard to get to that plateau, and in walks this rookie - although in Judge's case it was "Rookie in the fed" - and steals the World title. I was pissed for a while after that..."

"(Jake) And then Matt Myers won the title. You became his first challenger..."

"(Mike) We'll ignore that part."

"(Jake) Okay. Now, Mental regained control of the belt and defeated you in an Inferno match. Around this time Ejiro, Johnny, Wildchild and Fugue were making their way up the card, and you kinda fell off the face of the earth. What was it like, being passed over for four guys who were relatively green?"

"(Mike) Well, I had always liked Fugue, Ejiro too for that matter. Wildchild kinda kept to himself - but he was good in the ring, so I didn't care really. Johnny seemed like kind of a d**k, but we've gotten that all patched up, and now that we're stablemates we're pretty close."

"(Jake) After the Christmas break you had your first meeting with Janus, at Malice in Wonderland in the Mall Brawl. How did you feel going into that match?"

"(Mike) Well, at that point depression was setting in once more, and I was kind of out of it for a while there. Janus picked up the win there and a few more times, but I was so out of it at that point that it didn't really matter."

"(Jake) After Malice In Wonderland, there was a tournament for the vacated World title - a tournament that you won. What was that like?"

"(Mike) Well, at that point I was seriously beginning to consider retirement, and when I got into that tourney I told myself, "This is it - if I don't win here, I'm hanging 'em up." I beat Spike, though, but Dace was on the horizon and I was incredibly worried. On the next show, though, a lot of people had flight troubles, and the higher-ups basically just said "F**k it" and threw Janus and I into a title match. I didn't expect it - but I had watched a lot of Janus' stuff and knew I could beat him."

"(Jake) And beat him you did. You managed to hold the title for nineteen days before losing it to Janus for the first time, only to win it back at Caged Fury. You then got bumped - what was that like, being bumped after so long?"

"(Mike) Jake, it was the closest thing to euphoria I've ever experienced. After watching so many people I felt myself to be more deserving than get bumped before me - Ash Ketchum, Xero, Z, Tod deKindes, Johnny Dangerous - it felt really, really good to get up there."

"(Jake) You arrived on the scene at From the Fire, where you lost to Janus in the Iron Australian Knockout Challenge. How did it feel, to finally get up there and then get your ass kicked in your first match?"

"(Mike) It sucked, Jake. But I'll be honest - I felt the deck was stacked against me, in that match."

"(Jake) You went on to have a short reign with the Hardcore Gamers' Championship, defeating the legendary Neilsen of the Jungle and your JL nemesis Judge Mental. How did that win feel?"

"(Mike) Man... I don't know that anyone besides me remembers that match, and I can't blame them. The HCG title - one that I love, don't get me wrong - it just never seemed to fit my waist. I had always been somewhat softcore as a wrestler, so I preferred to go after more pure wrestling titles."

"(Jake) Go after more pure wrestling titles you did, as you beat Michael Craven for the United States championship, only to lose it back to him at Battleground. What did that feel like?"

"(Mike) I was okay with the Craven feud - it wasn't much of a feud, really, just him kicking my ass. But I was satisfied with my brief reign as US Champ and with our Battleground match, so I dislike complaining much about that match."

"(Jake) Recently, you've teamed up with Beezel and Wild and Dangerous to form Catch-22. What are your feelings on this group?"

"(Mike) Well, Jake, they're pretty much why I asked for this interview. You see, Jake, I've spent the last fifteen minutes or so going over my past. And what I'm trying to say, with Catch-22, is very simple. My past is just that - the past. But my future... and the future of this federation... is very simple. Catch-22."

"(Jake) Thank you, Mike. We'll be back with more SWF Storm after these messages."

.:fade out:.

May 24, 2003

“And welcome back to the world’s most famous arena in the heart of New York City, Madison Square Garden,” relates ‘Grand Slam’ Mark Stevens as we return from the last commercial break. “Next up from the on deck circle comes the much anticipated battle for the tag team titles as Danny Williams, alongside Dace Night, looks to get one up on his former teammates in Justice and Rule.”

“Yeah, yeah Stevens,” replies Bobbie Riley to his partner’s little speech. “Face it sport, no one can beat the tag team of Judge William Hearford and Ejiro Fasaki. They’ve added win after win to just one side of the column and there isn’t any hope at all that they are ever going to give up their precious gold.”

“Well, you might think that and they might think that,” answers Stevens, “But that sure as hell does not make any of it true. And I am certain that the ICTV Champion and The High Priest of Horrorcore are going to have a whole lot to say about that it the minutes to come. With that in mind, let’s head to the ring and our man, Funyon.”

“Ladies and Gentlemen,” begins the man with the microphone, “this next match is scheduled for one fall and is for the SWF WOOOOORLD Tag Team Titles. Introducing first the challengers…”

A red light illuminates the entranceway as a billow of smoke exudes from the whole in the wall as the crowd immediately rises up to their feet as one statement explodes from the sound system.

"LET FREEDOM RING WITH A SHOTGUN BLAST!"

An explosion blasts through the arena as red strobe lights light the entrance ramp providing the Unholy Trinity a literal red carpet as they come striding into view. Walking right through the heat and steam, Dace Night and Danny Williams step through the laser mesh and stride purposefully up the ramp into the ring. Raising their arms high to the people, Williams and Night welcome the cheers of the rabid crowd as the New York fan base clearly favor their smash mouth style of wrestling.

“Weighing in tonight as 497 pounds, they represent two thirds of the Unholy Trinity ... The tag team of DANNNNNNNNNNNY WILLIAMS AND DACCCCCCCCCCCCCE NIGHT!”

“What a reaction for the tag team some people in the back are calling D & D,” remarks Stevens as Dace tosses the metal horns high into the air while Danny Williams goes about stretching out his body before the contest begins.

“Well, I know for a fact right now that Hearford put on his ‘+1/+3 against weed whackers jersey’ and Ejiro is armed with a ‘chain of Danny slaying’ so don’t you worry about Justice and Rule boy,” laughs Riley at his own joke as jocks at home think about pummeling him and other nerds laugh in their parents’ basement.

“And their opponents…”

POPPOPPOPPOPPOPPOPPOPPOPPOPPOP!

JUSTICE!

RULE!

With the sight of the smiling faces of the dominant tag team in the SWF on the SmarkTron, the frothy New York crowd immediately rain down with a huge howl of anger. With the video wall displaying all of the teams victories does nothing to quell the fury of the fans to the point of a fever pitch. Finally, coming through the curtain comes the dastardly duo of Justice and Rule. Wearing their commanding gold belts around their waists, Judge Hearford and Ejiro Fasaki come strutting through the curtain as they enjoy the sounds of the crowd’s ire. Laughing all the way to the ring, Ejiro and The Judge slide underneath the cables and look across the ring at their far more serious looking opponents.

”Weighing in tonight at a total combined weight of 431 pounds, this team represents the world championship edition of The Magnificent Seven. They are the reigning and undefeated SWF World Tag Team Champions… Judge William Hearford and Ejiro Fasaki are JUSTICE AND RULLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLE!”

Smiling broadly as they raise their tag team belts high into the air, Justice and Rule display the symbols of their team’s dominant nature over the tag team division. Handing the belts over to referee Eddy Long, Ejiro watches on as The Judge steps through the ring ropes and takes his position on the ring apron. While on the other side of the ring, Dace Night moves aside as Danny Williams steps up to the plate to start the battle for the belts.

“And we have the first intriguing match up of several that are going to happen in this contest,” interjects Stevens before the match gets started. “Danny Williams and Ejiro Fasaki have battled it out twice before in singles matches with Williams coming out on top on both occasions. We are going to have to wait and see just what Ejiro has learned from those losses and find out if he can apply it in this tag team confrontation.”

With both men carefully positioning their backs to their partners, Danny and Ejiro both lower their centers of gravity as they jockey for some sort of positioning. Interlocking their hands while leaning down so that they are virtually shoulder-to-shoulder, Fasaki uses his advantage in quickness to snag Williams’ wrist and quickly turn it over into in a wristlock. Slamming down across Williams’ left shoulder, Fasaki attempts to gain an advantage quickly and forces Danny down to one knee successfully. Williams does not stay in that position for long though since he wants to stay out of the way of a possible armbar. Immediately back up to a vertical base, Danny looks for some sort of opening as he turns into the wristlock for just a moment before Ejiro immediately drops low and pulls Danny overhead with a fireman’s carry takeover. But still even from his back, Danny fights against the pressure and pushes his way back up to his vertical base. Standing up under the wristlock, Danny stays in the hold more just a moment longer until he finally sees the opening he was looking for…

WHAM!

A big elbow from downtown collides with Ejiro’s jaw and sends the smaller member of the tag team champions sprawling to the canvas. Quickly rushing forward to press his advantage Danny leans in with a hard punting kick to the bent over Ejiro’s chest that rips Fasaki strait back and into the canvas once again. Pulling Fasaki off the canvas as soon as possible, Williams hefts him up on high and smashes him into the mat with a powerful body slam before laying down low with a hard knee across the sternum. Reaching back and hooking a leg, Williams makes a quick cover attempt for …

ONE!

TWNOOOOOO!

Stevens says, “Fasaki scoots out the back door with ease, and I think Williams knew that was going to be the case, Bobbie. But in a title match of this importance, getting that first two count just puts a little more pressure onto the champions.”

“It’s a waste of time,” Riley counters, “Ejiro and The Judge are as confident as they are experienced. A two count is not going to throw them off their games with all the momentum they have coming into this match.”

But it is still Williams’ advantage and he takes the opportunity to pull the slightly winded Ejiro over to his corner with a front facelock before reaching out to tag in the SWF Hardcore Gamers Champion. Stepping into the ring, Dace stands back a few steps as Danny heaves Ejiro across the ring with a whip. Then, together with his partner, Night rushes forward and sends Fasaki flying backward with a thunderous double shoulder block that sends Ejiro rebounding all the way to the other side of the ring. Flopping into the ropes, Ejiro is seemingly helpless as Dace continues the assault on his personage. Lifting Fasaki as though he were weightless, Night sends Rule across the ring with an Irish whip and charges forward only to run strait into the rising knee of his opponent. With the smell of an opening sweet on his nostrils, Fasaki rolls out of the corner and makes the tag just as Dace shakes off the blow. Knowing that it is now back to square one, Night moves to the center of the ring as The Judge makes his first entrance into the ring.

“Now this is what I’ve been waiting for,” remarks Riley. “The Judge has a certain special knack for taking garbage wrestlers like Dace Night and tearing their arms out of socket. Remember how much he controlled that division just by coming out and wrestling solid matches? Let’s see how old Horrorcore deals with that!”

Stevens races to correct Riley, “Listen, Bobbie, if you think all Dace Night can do is hit someone with a chair you have another thing coming. That guy can bring it to The Judge any which way Hearford could want.”

But it is Hearford who strikes first as the two men come face to face in the center of the ring. Lifting up a boot at the last moment before Dace can use his power, The Judge nails the master of Horrorcore right in the breadbasket. Reaching back and letting fly forward a number of open hand rights to the side of the head, The Judge leans back and chops Dace across the chest as the crowd grimaces from the impact. Thinking he has Night staggered significantly; The Judge leans back into the ropes and charges forward with a powerful shoulder tackle.

BOOM!

But Dace does not go down! Standing up to the impact with all of his 254 pounds of muscle, Night looks dead into the eyes of The Judge and dares the lawyer of lariats to head into the ropes. Looking away from his opponent in mild confusion for just a second, Hearford nonetheless hits the ropes again as requested only to find out suddenly that his feet are no longer on the mat as Dace picks him off the mat and effortlessly breaks him down with a tilt-a-whirl backbreaker! With his back bent in a way that nature did not intend, The Judge attempts to roll away to his corner only to find Night latched onto his ankle and pulling the veteran all the way back into the corner of The Unholy Trinity.

“And Dace makes the quick exchange back out to Danny Williams,” notes Stevens, “I think what The Trinity has to do in this match though is try and break this down into almost as much of a singles match as possible. As much as Justice and Rule depend on using the double teams, the more tags made in that, the more it is going to favor them.”

Accepting the tag from his flame-clad partner, Danny steps into the ring as Dace pulls The Judge up to a vertical position. Slamming a round kick into the back of Hearford’s knee, Danny takes over command of the offence as Dace steps back out to the apron. Pulling Judge’s head in close, Williams hammers his former compatriot across the side of the head with a number of quick elbows to the side of the head. Sending The Judge into the ropes once again, Danny runs it right behind his opponent and smashes the man right over the top rope and to the arena floor! Turning his back to his opponent for a second, Danny lifts up his elbow to signal to the New York crowd as to what is on its way. And as Danny eyes Hearford on the arena floor stagger up to his feet, Williams hits the far ropes and rebounds back towards his target.

WHAM!

“OH MY GOD!” Stevens screams, “Ejiro cut Williams off at the pass! Just as Danny was going through the ropes for his elbow suicida, Ejiro Fasaki swung a viscous kick at him from the apron!”

Rebounding back into the ring from the stunning blow, Danny Williams bounces back against the canvas with sickening thud as Long moves to give Fasaki a warning for his illegal interference. Lifting his hands in the air, Fasaki professes his innocence as Dace Night roars along with the crowd in protest. But it is The Judge who is the first to take an appropriate action as he slides back into the ring in order to make his impact felt against Danny’s face. Rushing forward just as Williams mumbles up to his feet, Hearford is right there to knock his ass to the mat once again with a rushing clothesline!

“LARIATOOOOOOOOOOO!”

ONE!

TWO!

THRENOOOOOOOOO!

“Kick out by Danny Williams! And his lack of tag team experience really showed there as he took his eye off of one opponent as he focused in on the other. In tag team wrestling, you need to keep track of everyone or you are going to end up losing the contest.”

“You know it Stevens, Tom Flesher has got his boys perfectly ready to take this match just like they take every other one. Justice and Rule just rule tag team wrestling!”

Pulling Danny into a standing position, The Judge snaps his left arm behind his back for a moment with a hammerlock for just a second before rushing Danny into Ejiro’s turnbuckle shoulder first. Slamming down on the joint again with an elbow, The Judge takes a deep breath to get his wind back inside his lungs before making the tag to his partner. Making the clean exchange from the tag, The Judge picks up his end of the tag rope as Ejiro pulls Danny around to face him toward the center of the ring. Exposing the arm, Ejiro snaps into the appendage with a series of swinging roundhouse kicks.

SNAP!

BOOM!

Using his good arm as a weapon, Danny swings forward and smashes into Fasaki underneath the chin with a powerful elbow that knocks Rule off and down to the mat. Swinging backward with the same move, Danny sweeps Hearford off the apron with yet another elbow to provide himself with even more room to work with against Fasaki. And as the slippery wrestler props himself back up to a standing position, Williams is right there to lift a boot high into the mush of his opponent. Snapping his head back on a swivel, Ejiro Fasaki falls strait back into the mat as Danny formulates his next move. Pulling Fasaki into a standing head scissors, Williams looks to deliver a powerbomb, the same move that defeated Fasaki in their first encounter and gave Beezel over Fasaki just last week. Pulling up on his opponent’s body, Danny soon finds that Ejiro has that move well scouted as he latches onto Danny’s knee like a winch. Lacking the strength to disengage Fasaki from his leg, Williams finds that his left arm is not acting up to par at the moment. But that is the least of his problems as he soon finds himself elevated into the air as Fasaki backdrops him up and over the top.

“Typical”, shrugs Riley, “Williams had a chance to reach out and make the tag. But instead of doing that, he’s still thinking like a singles wrestler and tried to win the match on his own. How did that work out for you, Danny Boy?”

Turning to the rising Danny as he uses his good arm to prop himself up, Fasaki snatches Williams by his wounded wing and stabs him into the canvas with the single arm DDT. Rolling over in pain, Williams feels his shoulder ache but also the body weight of Fasaki as he leans in for the cover.

ONE!

TWO!

THRENNOOOOOOOOO!

Shaking his head at Long’s cadence, Fasaki wastes a moment sharing a word with the official before he pulls Danny up to feet and pulls him over to Justice and Rule’s corner. Making another tag to Judge Hearford, Ejiro waits on his partner before pulling Danny up and sending him into the ropes. Stepping into the path of the rebounding Williams, The Judge catches him around the waist for just a moment before whipping Danny around and slamming him into the mat with a perfectly snug belly-to-belly suplex. But The Judge does not stop there as he grapples with Danny’s arm just long enough to pull it behind with an armbar. Tearing at the joint, Hearford screams for Williams to give the match up as he threatens to rip the arm right out of the socket. Pressing against the arm, The Judge happily grinds away as Dace Night paces across the apron like a hungry lion dying to get a piece of the zebra.

“They are really isolating Danny from his partner well,” notes Grand Slam as Hearford tries to press Williams to the mat.

“More like Danny is isolating himself. What an egotist.”

“… This from the man who worships the ground Tom Flesher walks on.”

“Don’t bring that selfless soul into this argument, Mark.”

In the ring, Hearford begins to shift the armbar, pulling Danny up into a kneeling position before turning the armbar into a wristlock. He pulls Williams over towards the heel corner and makes the tag to Ejiro, who puts a stiff elbow into the injured joint before taking over with a smile.

“Fasaki sure looks happy to take over here. I’m sure he just loves a chance to punish Danny Williams after being beaten by him twice for the ICTV title.”

“Hey, is it a crime to enjoy your work?”

With Danny briefly incapacitated, Fasaki yanks on his targeted arm and pulls it down. He puts on leg on top of Williams’ and after giving a brief signal to the crowd he brings his other leg under it, bringing it down in his potent variation of the Rock dropper!

“Fasaki Fuser, and that certainly won’t help out Danny’s problems…” says Grand Slam as Ejiro covers, putting both hands and pressing down on the bad shoulder for the pin.

“ONE!”

”TWO!”

”THR-” And Danny gives a kick out, much to the relief of the fans in the stands.

“A close one, and it looks like Justice and Rule want to take out Danny’s main weapon: his elbows.”

“Indeed, Grand Spam,” remarks Bobbie, sitting back in his chair with a grin, “Williams isn’t anything without his elbows or the big power attacks he has. It looks like they’re gonna turn the Lion of the trinity into a kitten.”

Williams staggers up, his shoulder in his hand while Fasaki gives him a cocky, cruel grin, like a hungry wolf looking at a lamb. He rushes in for an elbow… but Williams uncharacteristically dodges it. With Fasaki caught off-balance, Danny throws an elbow right to Ejiro’s temple. Fasaki takes a step to the side, and Danny prepares for another elbow… only to receive one himself! Ejiro plasters the ICTV champion in the jaw, and the Sarasota Cobra grabs the stunned Williams and whips him at the ropes. Danny doesn’t have much of a choice as the momentum carries him towards Fasaki… and into a Fujiwara Armbar takedown!

“Ha! This is it!” cries a happy Bobbie as Ejiro takes the captured arm and scissors it with his legs, “Cobra Crossface coming right up!”

“I don’t think so,” corrects Mark as Danny extends his bad arm away from Ejiro, not letting him get the Cobra Clutch variation on him. Ejiro reaches, but he just can’t pull the arm in. “Danny’s fought Ejiro twice before and that’s one move he knows how to avoid.”

A frustrated Ejiro tries again to lock in the hold, but Williams keeps his arm out of reach, foiling his plans of an easy submission victory. Fasaki instead opts to give Danny an elbow to the head, giving him a chance to pull him back up to his feet and put a wrist lock on the Trinity warrior. He drags him over to the heel corner, where the Rule tags in Justice, and Hearford takes over as he puts a waistlock on Williams. “Deathwish” begins to show signs of life, trying to get out of the lock by throwing elbows back at the old man’s head. Unfortunately, he doesn’t look towards Ejiro…

CRACK!

“Running elbow!” calls Mark Stevens as Fasaki connects with a brutal running elbow to Danny’s head, and right after it connects Hearford lifts up the ICTV champion and plants him on the ground with a bridging German Suplex!

“Buwahahahaha, that was a real shot at D&D,” laughs Riley as Ejiro gives a smile at the fuming Dace, still stuck on the apron, “Using their own double team moves against them.”

“ONE!”

“TWO!”

“THREE-” No! Williams kicks out, and the crowd goes wild as Ejiro’s face turns from confidence to disbelief.

“What?! Slow count!” cries Bobbie as Hearford pulls up the tired Danny off the ground, “There’s no way he could have kicked out of that combo!”

“I doubt it. Danny is far tougher than most people give him credit for. He can take one hell of a beating before he goes down.”

In the ring, Hearford locks up with the smaller man, and he quickly overpowers the Williams and his bad shoulder. He throws a knee into Danny’s stomach and uses the chance to put his head under Williams’ arm. Not wasting a moment, he pulls Danny up and nails him to the ground with a bridging Northern Lights Suplex!

“ONE!”

“TWO!”

“THR-” And Danny kicks out again, and the crowd just eats it up!

“Another close fall! Where in God’s name is Danny getting this?!”

A surprised Judge rises and shoots a glare at the referee as he begins to rise up, pulling Williams up with him. Danny gets his vertical base, but Hearford doesn’t give him a break as he shoots a knife-edged chop at the Trinity leader!

WHOO!

CHOP!

WHOO!

CHOP!

WHOO!

CHOP!

WHOO!

C-And this time Danny catches the arm of Hearford! The crowd gives a welcome response as he spins around and tosses the Judge to the mat with a Judo throw! He holds onto the arm and goes back, going for a match-winning Juji-Gatame! Dace slams his fist on the turnbuckle and says “Yes!” as Danny nearly locks in the hold… but the Judge is only just able to lock his hands! The crowd cheers on as Williams tries to pry apart Justice’s hands apart and put on the deadly submission.

“A big break for Williams, here!” calls Grand Slam as Danny tries hard to get the hold locked in, “He just caught Hearford totally off guard with that takedown and nearly won the match by himself there.”

Hearford begins to spin his body around, and soon he’s able to get a footing. He starts to push Danny’s shoulders up against the mat, and Hall quickly dives in for the count.

“ONE!”

“T-” And Danny releases the hold, rolling over onto his belly as Hearford backs off. Hearford looks at Danny, obviously a little frustrated, and walks over to make a tag to Ejiro, giving Williams a perfect chance to tag in… which he doesn’t use.

“Is Williams CRAZY?! Does he honestly want to try and take them both on himself?” says Riley as Ejiro leaps over the ropes just as Danny gets back up to his feet. Coming in fresh, Ejiro shoots off a kick to “Deathwish’s” bad shoulder, making him take a step back. He fires off another, and another, and Danny begins to slouch forwards under the blows, but doesn’t go down. Slightly irritated by Williams’ persistence, Fasaki spins around for a spinning heel kick, but Danny backs out of its reach! Ejiro spins around from the momentum, and Williams grabs him from behind, putting him up on his good shoulder and falling back for a Backdrop Driver! The crowd goes wild as Danny moves as quickly as he can to flip over Fasaki and make the cover!

“ONE!”

“TWO!”

“THRE-” And Hearford drops an elbow on Williams’ chest to break up the count!

“A near fall for Williams, but Hearford breaks it up!” says Grand Slam as Hearford begins to rise and hit Danny with boots… but Dace doesn’t let him get away with it. He runs in and nails the rising Judge with a drop kick to the face, drawing the ire of Anthony Michael Hall. Justice shakes his head and begins to get up as Hall escorts him out of the ring. Meanwhile, Hearford takes the chance to grab Fasaki and drag him near the corner to make the tag, unseen by Hall. As Danny slowly rises, the Judge rushes out, and he quickly dodges past one of Danny’s off-arm elbows and under hooks his arm, taking him down with a earth-shattering STO!

“Closing Arguments! It looks like this moron just got sentenced to another loss against the Magnificent 7,” remarks Bobbie with a shit-eating grin as Hearford makes the pin, making sure to put his knee on the bad shoulder of Danny.

“ONE!”

“Hearford is really pressing down on that bad shoulder of Williams…” notes a worried Grand Slam.

“TWO!”

Danny struggles, the pain in shoulder biting at him…

…

“THREE-” And Danny kicks out at the last possible moment!

“And Williams just refuses to be pinned!” says Grand Slam, forced to shout over the now-roaring crowd, “He’s been battered and beaten by the combined efforts of Justice and Rule, but the man will not give up!”

“God damn it, Williams, just stay the hell down!” is Bobbie’s response as Hearford slams his fist on the ground and holds up three fingers at Hall, who shakes his head and holds up two fingers of his own.

The Judge grumbles something under his breath and pulls up “Deathwish”… who slaps away his hands as he reaches his feet! The Judge hesitates for a moment before trying to grapple with the man, and Danny quickly turns around and hits a round house kick right to Hearford’s side! Hitting another quick kick to the body of Justice, the crowd begins to rally behind the Trinity member!

“Danny’s switching it up! He’s gone to using his feet instead of his bad shoulder and elbow!”

“What?!” says Riley, on the verge of spazing out, “He’s a pumped up freak with the brain of a dinosaur! He isn’t supposed to change stuff up!”

“I’ll bet that’s what Hearford thought,” says Mark with a grin like the Mad Hatter as Danny takes hold of a stunned Justice’s wrist and whips him at the ropes. The Judge, though, isn’t quite as stunned as Danny thought and he comes back with his arm ready for a head-ripping clothesline…

WHAM!

“Williams ducked! Williams ducked!” is all Grand Slam can say over the cheering crowd.

“But Hall sure didn’t…” replies Bobbie, cringing as Hall’s body lies motionless on the ground from wandering a little too close to the action. The Judge looks down with an “Uh-oh” type face before quickly realizing that Danny is still standing behind him. He quickly spins around…

CA-RACK~!

… And takes a leaping high kick to the face! Hearford falls to the ground clutching his nose, but he doesn’t get much time to celebrate as Ejiro leaps over the ropes and comes rushing over at Danny, clobbering the tired man with a running elbow! The tired man is knocked to the mat himself, but vengeance is quick as Dace enters the ring and blows Fasaki away with massive Lariat!

“DYNAMIC KICK! DY- RUNNING ELBOW! EJIRO JUST N- BURNING LARIAT!” says the breathless Mark Stevens as the match quickly turns into a tornado with the referee on the ground, “It’s just chaos in there!”

The High Priest of Horrorcore, full of energy after being on the apron for most of the match, pulls Fasaki up single-handedly and starts burning all that pent up rage like a tire fire as he begins shooting elbows into Ejiro’s face! The diminutive man stumbles backward, and Night lines up a spinning elbow… but Ejiro ducks under it and puts one of his own in the face of Dace! The human sponge for pain fights back and the two begin to exchange shots while their veteran counterparts begin to rise up in the ring.

Striking back first is Hearford, getting a wild punch in on the rising Williams, momentarily putting the man on a knee. Justice gives a scowl and pounds Danny with an overhead right to the bad shoulder of Williams… but Danny doesn’t go down! The crowd goes wild as “Deathwish” grimaces but doesn’t fall, instead tentatively standing up on his feet despite the pain!

“See, he’s a dinosaur!” cries Riley as the Judge raises his arm and pounds again at the shoulder, and Danny stumbles back in pain but still doesn’t fall, “The moron’s brain is so small he can’t feel the pain that the Judge is inflicting on him!”

“You wish, Bobbie,” is Mark’s comeback, “Danny is just won’t let himself back down from Justice and Rule and the entire Magnificent 7, for that matter. He’s trying to bear the load for the Trinity to see if he can take pain of being a leader...”

Danny takes another strike to the shoulder, but with a roar he whips his left arm around and puts an elbow into a surprised Hearford’s face!

“And in my opinion,” says the old Carnie as Danny begins to fight back, “I think he’s really ready for it.”

In the ring, Dace begins to get the best of Ejiro with his elbows, firing one after another into Fasaki’s face as the effects begin to show through. He gives him a hard kick to the stomach, doubling the little man over, and he quickly puts him in a standing head scissors. He flips him up into Powerbomb position and gets an idea, pointing at the outside ropes with one hand for a massive crowd reaction.

“He wouldn’t…” cries Riley.

“Oh yes he would!” responds Grand Slam.

With that, he begins to move towards to ropes, picking up some speed as he prepares to use his old Lygerbomb to hurl Ejiro outside. He reaches the ropes and goes to toss… but Ejiro’s legs don’t leave his shoulders as Fasaki manages to hang on. He grabs the ropes and bends his body, pulling Dace over the ropes and putting him on the floor with a Frankensteiner!

“What a reversal!” calls Grand Slam as Fasaki puts himself back into the ring, breathing heavy.

Meanwhile, in the ring the mangled “Deathwish” mounts an assault on Judge. He strikes with a left elbow, then a roundhouse kick to the side. Hearford stumbles backwards, and Danny begins spinning for his trademark rolling elbow… but instead nails Hearford with the other one!

“SCREAMING ELBOWAHHHH!” yells Mark as the crowd goes wild for the stolen move.

Justice falls right to his knees, and Danny wastes no time, putting him in a standing head scissors of his own. He wraps his arms around the Judge’s waist and tries to lift him up... but he just… can’t… do it! The bad shoulder and his worn body just won’t let Danny lift him up, and he even as he tries a second time he just doesn’t have the strength for it... But someone else does. The Judge begins lifting up, using his remaining strength to put Williams up in the air. On the other side of the ring, the resting Ejiro sees Justice beginning to the leader of the Unholy Trinity up, and he instantly gets an idea. He runs over just as Hearford begins to stand all the way up and as Danny goes through the air Fasaki chinches a front facelock and brings his head down to the mat!

“GAVEL BANG! GAVEL BANG!” says an ecstatic Riley as Hall begins to come to his senses. The AMH looks over Hearford putting Williams on his back and pinning him to the ground and he slowly crawls over and makes a labored count.

“ONE!”

”TWO!”

”THREE!”

*DING DING DING*

The bell rings, and even after all the punishment he’s taken Danny manages a small kickout after the bell, not giving up even in defeat.

“The winners of the match… JUSTICE! AND! RUUUUUUUUUUUULE!”

The tag champs give devilish smirks as they slide out of the ring, grabbing their belts along the way. They shoot off a few comments to some of the nearby fans while they walk up the ramp. Back in the ring, Dace Night slides in after being tossed to the outside and helps his leader up to his feet. The two walk off, Danny leaning on Dace as he receives cheers from the crowd for his efforts tonight.

“What an effort for Danny Williams,” says Mark Stevens as 2/3rds of the Unholy Trinity walk off the stage, “He held out and took nearly everything that the tag champs could throw at him and in the end he nearly did it. Williams is really turning into one hell of a wrestler.”

“Whatever. The loser got a handicap match and he lost it himself.”

“Well, stay tuned to Storm, because we still have a World Title shot between JD and Tom Flesher, and a Hell in a Cell between Neilsen of the Jungle and TNT!”

*FADE OUT*

May 24, 2003

The Boston Strangler stands outside the locker room door, pulling frantically at the doorknob. It refuses to budge, so Strangler does the next best thing… he simply shoves the door down, caving it in! Inside the dressing room, Tom Flesher stands, stretching out for his match with Jay Dawg later tonight.

“Can I help you?” says Flesher calmly, not looking up.

“You heard me. Give me an answer.”

“Sorry, Albert,” says Flesher, still looking only at his legs as he stretches his hamstrings. “Not gonna happen. Thanks for asking, though.”

“You can-”

Flesher cuts off the Strangler by adding, “It’s not like you’ve earned it.”

Strangler pauses, letting the cold insult sink in for a moment. He answers back, “You can answer the challenge, or you can wait for the Suicide King to give me my match. Everyone knows he’s not protecting you anymore, Tom. He doesn’t respect you as a champion. No one does.”

Flesher’s eye twitches, but he changes off to another stretch, this time loosening up his shoulders wordlessly.

“And he doesn’t care whether you make it to six defenses or not, Tom.” Strangler pauses. “Actually, he does. He wants to keep the record right where it is, even if it means giving someone he can’t stand a chance to pull that belt right off you. He knows I can do it. Everyone in the locker room knows I can rip you limb from limb. Hell, Tom, the only reason I’m holding off now is because I don’t want Drazon to get the belt before I can get to you.”

Flesher finally looks up coldly. “So if Brian’s going to give you a shot anyway, what do I have to gain by stroking your little ego and agreeing to it?”

“You get the chance to try to do to me what you did to Frost, Danny Williams and Annie Eclectic.”

“You really think you matter to me, Al?” says Flesher calmly. “I could care less if you get up tomorrow morning or not. I know I can destroy you. I don’t need to prove it to anyone.”

“I’ll make it non-title,” Strangler blurts out, immediately regretting it.

Flesher looks him in the eye. “You’ve got yourself a deal. And after I embarrass you like I embarrassed Danny, Frost and Annie, you can go back to your drug rehab clinic and get a leg up on your addiction to antidepressants. You’re going to be a sad, sad man when I’m done with you.”

Flesher cocks his head to the side.

“Now, if you’ll kindly leave me alone, I have a match to prepare for.”

Strangler backs away, stopping only to say, “You’re mine,” before leaving the room.

Flesher sighs. “Man… there’s just no rest for the weary.”

**FADE**

May 24, 2003

“OO-A-A-A-AH!!!”

“Down With the Sickness” by Disturbed rages aggressively from MSG’s PA system and the crowd goes absolutely nuts – albeit some very noticeable boos – as the Jungle King himself emerges from the backstage area and stomps his way down to the ring, steel chair in hand!!

“Welcome back ladies, gents, and everything in between to SWF Storm… where we’re just getting down to our HELL IN A CELL match between Neilsen of the Jungle, and Taylor Nicholas Thompson!!” Mark announces, his former career path as a car salesman really shining through tonight. “This is sure to be our most brutal match of the night. Two men, one cage… 16-feet of unforgiving steel mesh… with nowhere to run, or hide! Even Michelle, Neilsen’s trusty valet, isn’t being aloud to ringside tonight, proving that this indeed is a one-on-one war in its purest form!”

“And what a stroke of genius this was!” Bobby Riley grins an evil, slightly homoerotic, grin. “The King took his most hated enemy, booked him against a man that he’s more than willing to spare – TNT, and gave these two bozos the most injury-prone stipulation of all time, Hell in a Cell!! Sure, these clowns couldn’t wrestle their way out of a paper bag, but as soon as Neilsen breaks a knee or TNT has to fuse six discs in his back together, it’s a MOTYC for sure! Mwahah!”

NotJ treks down the entrance ramp and slides into the ring, slamming his chair down onto the top of the nearest turnbuckle and letting out a crazed screech to the crowd!! It’s clear that the audience is utterly 50/50 on whether or not to boo King’s arch nemesis, as he gets the most mixed reaction of the night. Finally, Neilsen’s music fades out and he stares intently at the stage, eagerly awaiting his opponent with flames flashing in his eyes.

“Neilsen’s got a steel chair with him tonight, and I’d be a complete moron—“

“You WOULD be?? You ARE, Marky Mark,” Riley interrupts his co-commentator, but is ignored.

“—I’d have to be a complete moron to even doubt his intentions of USING it, but perhaps the most dangerous weapon of all tonight, is the cell itself!!”

“Especially if it, you know, ‘happened to fall’ on Neilsen and ‘end his career permanently by crushing every single bone in one of his limbs’ or something along those lines…”

“Indeed it would Bobby. I mean, LOOK AT THAT THING!” Stevens glances up with a look of apprehensiveness and awe at the luminous cell as it slowly descends from the rafters. “It’s got to weigh a few tons!!”

“Almost as much as you!”

The hulking mass that is the cell lowers down to the ring like a phantom, but hasn’t even gotten halfway to the ground yet when a thunderous guitar riff hits, and the crowd nearly blows the roof off of Madison Square Garden with their deafening cheers!!

“Oy!”

”Oy!”

The audience chants along with Bon Scott as AC/DC’s “TNT” starts up, and Taylor Thompson himself appears at the pinnacle of the ramp, ready to get right down to business with NotJ! He looks down the ramp and meets Neilsen eye-to-eye, but the Jungle King isn’t one to back down, even in a staredown, and returns a glare just as piercing as TNT’s!!

“And here’s the fan-favorite, TNT… obviously ready to regain his credibility here tonight after a string of recent losses, by defeating the King of Hardcore in a match as hardcore as this one!”

“TNT? …Credibility?” Riley says uncertainly, before falling out of his chair in hysterical laughter.

“Watch me exploooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooode!!!!!!!”

*** BAMBAMBAMBAMBAMBAMBAMBAMBAMBAMBAMABAMBAMBAMBAMBAMBAM ***

Bon reaches his vocal climax and an entire series of orange pyro flares up from the stage, causing TNT to pick up the pace in his walk, as if the pyro gave the dynamite warrior a renewed surge of energy. Taylor paces all the way down the ramp and climbs into the ring with a sense of determination in all of his mannerisms, the crowd cheering him on.

“Ladies and gentlemen…” Funyon takes center-stage as the two soldiers prepare to engage in battle, and the enormous cage casts a shadow over the entire ring. “This contest is scheduled for one fall and is a HELL IN A CELL match!! The only rule is, that – aside from the first rule – there ARE NO RULES!!! (the crowd cheers ravenously at the brutality to come) Anything goes… and the winner is the first man to score a pinfall or submission on his opponent.”

*** THUD ***

The metal cage finally lands around the squared circle, trapping both men inside, as Funyon continues…

“Introducing first, hailing from Chicago, Illinois and weighing in at 245 pounds… the King of Hardcore… Neeeeeeeeiiiiilsooooon of the--…”

“MOTHERFUCKING!!” the crowd chimes in, and it’s quite evident that this show doesn’t have a seven-second delay of any sort.

“JUNNNNNNNGLEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” Funyon finishes, and whether or not the crowd is booing or cheering, it’s safe to say that the Jungle King’s reception is just about as loud as a reception can get.

Neilsen’s head snaps back and forth as if he were a rabid animal confused by his surroundings, and his eyes burn a hole into everything that he looks at.

“Wow!” Mark screams over the fervent crowd. “It’s split right down the middle here – half boos, and half cheers – for the Jungle King, but he doesn’t seem to care… he just wants to get in there and kick some BUTT!”

“BUTT?’ What is this, Sesame Street?”

NotJ grips his hazardous steel chair in his clenched fist, ready to strike, as Funyon continues.

“And his opponent…” Tons-O’-Fun begins, and the crowd is already on their feet screaming words of support for TNT! “Wrestling out of Anehei—“

*** CRACK ***

Funyon jumps back in shock as Neilsen can’t wait any longer, and lunges forward with his chair, cracking it right over TNT’s head! The audience cheers with excitement at first, but soon is bringing the negativity like Prince brings the funk as Taylor totters back, only to be smashed with the chair a second time!

*** CRACK ***

“And Neilsen just couldn’t contain himself!” Mark looks on in shock. “This live audience is on their feet, and this match is underway before Funyon can even finish his introductions!”

“Hey, the sooner we get to the damn match, the sooner one of these two little pests has to be carried out on a stretcher, eh?”

Taylor still doesn’t go down, teetering back and forth on his feet, but NotJ is persistent, and with a look of sheer insanity and sadism on his face, he finally sends TNT down to the mat with the hardest shot yet!!

*** CRACK ***

The scintillating chair shot sends Taylor down faster than Divine, and Funyon bails out of the ring as referee Brian Hebner signals for the bell!

*** DINGDINGDING ***

“This match has officially started now… and we’ve already got our first pinfall attempt!” Mark says anxiously as the smaller of the two opponents drops his chair and covers the dead moose that is TNT with a quick lateral press.

“ONE!!”

“TW—NO!!!”

Three chairshots or not, this match hasn’t even begun, and Taylor kicks out before the two-count can even be completed!

“Go for the quad Neilsen!” Bobby yells from ringside. “That’ll put the bastard out for at least nine months!”

“I didn’t expect the match to end there… but wow! TNT doesn’t even look in all that bad of shape, even after three chair shots!”

The Jungle King leaps up to his feet, fuming at the early win that he had hoped for failing, and Taylor rolls over onto his belly, recovering faster than anyone would have expected. The explosive one pushes himself up to his hands and knees, only to…

*** CRACK ***

…get a hard chair shot to the back for his efforts! Neilsen drops his chair once again and pries Taylor up to his feet by his hair, constantly pounding forearms into the back of his head as he picks him up… but as soon as Thompson is on his feet, NotJ latches on a front facelock, and spins around, twisting right into a…

“NEILSEN MCTWIST!! I’M DIZZY ALREADY!!”

“NO!!!!” Mark sighs with relief along with the rest of the crowd as Taylor suddenly collects himself to push Neilsen off of him. “NEILSEN WANTED TO END THIS RIGHT AWAY, BUT TAYLOR ISN’T GOING TO LET HIM!!”

The Jungle King stumbles forward, and when he spins around to face his opponent, all he sees is Taylor charging him with the momentum of a freight train, looking to take his head off with a burning lariat! He thinks fast though, and just as he’s about to become a very Headless King of the Jungle, he drops down to the canvas, wraps his legs around Taylor’s, and takes him down face-first with a drop toehold! TNT hits the mat with a thud, but before he can even attempt to get back up, Neilsen reaches a vertical base and – intent on really packing in just who has the advantage here – kicks Taylor square in the side of his head!! The crowd “ooh’s!” at the sickening stiffness of the kick, and TNT flips over onto his back in agony!

“OUCH!!” Mark squirms in his seat. “Taylor could very well have a concussion after that one. He managed to stop himself from becoming the victim of an early Neilsen McTwist, but whether it be Neilsen’s quick wits or TNT just being too dazed to follow up, the Jungle King once again has the advantage.”

“Hrm… I’d say that we’re up to about two concussions by now… keep up the good work, boys!”

Neilsen drops to his knees beside the fallen explosive one and begins savagely pounding punch after punch into his unprotected skull, trying to draw blood from the massive bruise that’s formed on his forehead from the chairshots that he received earlier. The King of Hardcore soon gets caught up in the moment though, and after just a few seconds of using Taylor’s face as a punching bag, he finds another way to make his opponent bleed, as he leans in, and… BITES HIM!! The crowd boos their heads off, but this only eggs Neilsen on more, as he ferociously digs his teeth right into Taylor’s forehead!!

“What the hell?” Bobby looks on in what one might assume would be disgust. “That’s… that’s…”

“Disgusting? Sickening? Out of line?” Mark guesses.

“…So damn kinky! Yum!”

“…” Stevens sits in silence for a moment, but decides to just ignore Bobby completely. “Neilsen really wants to just… utterly destroy TNT here, and I wouldn’t hesitate for a second to call him absolutely nuts!! He’s BITING his opponent, for God’s sake!”

There aren’t any rules that he can really apply here, but Brian Hebner does his best to tell NotJ to back off anyway, not even receiving any reaction whatsoever. Neilsen’s teeth dig deep into TNT’s skin like moles burrowing into fresh soil, and when he pulls his head up and away from Taylor, the explosive one’s forehead is stained with blood! Neilsen’s eyes look like those of a man gone mad, and he violently jerks himself to his feet, trudging back over to his chair! The crowd’s boos echo throughout every nook and cranny of the arena now, as Neilsen picks his chair up off of the ground, and turns around, only to see TNT already rising to his feet!

“And Taylor’s already recovering!! What the heck!? He’s one tough SOB, and he’s proving it right now!”

“Hey, the more he comes back for, the more he gets, eh?”

Thompson’s dreadlocks are slowly becoming a crimson red from the blood that soaks his forehead, but he still manages to barely reach a vertical base, his legs wobbling beneath him as if they could give out at any time.

*** CRACK ***

And they do, as NotJ irately fissures another crack in TNT’s head with yet another chairshot!! Taylor’s eyes go blank and he teeters back, but the King of Hardcore has had enough, and wanting nothing more than to hit a move that will KEEP Thompson down, he backs up all the way across the ring… bounces off the opposite ropes… AND DASHES FORWARD, SMASHING IN TAYLOR’S SKULL WITH THE HARDEST FUCKING CHAIRSHOT THAT NEW YORK CITY HAS EVER SEEN!!!!!!!!

*** CAAAAAARACK ***

“Holy shit!! This is like a wet dream squared!”

“Taylor refused to be put away, even by shots to his head with a steel chair… but I think that with that running start, Neilsen of the Jungle has finally done it. I mean… did you HEAR that!?”

“Heaven in audio form.”

Taylor’s head more or less caves in, and appearing to have finally completed the transition from body to corpse, the dynamite warrior collapses into the ropes, lifelessly crumbling right out of the ring and down to the cement on the outskirts of the ring. Every fan in Madison Square Garden is either booing or jeering at the Jungler, but he just grins slightly, pointing to TNT on the outside and ordering him to get up.

“Neilsen is screaming at Taylor to get up now, and who knows what’s going on in that twisted, whacked-out head of his! He could have anything in mind!” the Heavy Hitter states, sounding a tad worried for the former Heavyweight Champion, absolutely helpless against Jungle King right now. “I don’t think that TNT’s going to be ABLE to get up though… how many chairshots has that been now?”

“Six!” Bobby chirps, tallying up each potential injury on a small piece of scrap paper as the match progresses.

“He could very well have a concus--… wha--… he’s moving!! TAYLOR THOMPSIN IS MOVING!! He’s alive, my God!!”

A good portion of the crowd cheers passionately as TNT pulls himself up by the ring apron, but the rest warns Taylor of NotJ’s stance, instead! Neilsen might as well be foaming at the mouth as he stands edgily inside the ring, dropping his chair beside him and obviously preparing to do something rather dangerous.

“TNT’s up… but what could Neilsen have in mind??”

Stevens’ query is immediately answered, as the King of the Motherfucking Jungle assertively runs to the ropes behind him, rebounds off like a cueball… and sprints all the way across the ring, launching himself right through the middle ropes with a suicide dive, acting as a human dart!!! The especially animated throng goes bananas for a high-spot, as the Jungle King spears Taylor right in the chest on the outside, driving him all the way back into the cage wall!! The cell’s mesh almost caves in, but not completely, and Taylor lies limply against it while NotJ drops to the cold cement, obviously having hurt himself with that suicide dive as well.

“SUICIDE DIVE!!!!!” Mark marks. “Neilsen just crushed TNT up against the cell wall with a tope, but it looks like he might have injured himself, too!”

“Brilliant! Hurting BOTH of them at once! I can’t think of anything more genius.”

Taylor breathes heavily and blood flows like wine from his bruised melon of a head, but Neilsen isn’t done yet. The Hardcore King powers himself up off of the ground, looking to follow up on his suicide dive… and indeed he does, as he boots TNT in the gut to double him over, and then hooks on a front facelock… falling back with a DDT onto the hard concrete!!!! Taylor’s head drives into the ground with the impact of a human cannon hitting a brick wall, and his cranium practically bounces off of the cement, causing him to flip over onto his back. The crowd lets out a sympathetic groan for the explosive one, who lies in a motionless heap as a still enraged Neilsen tries to recover just a yard away.

“HO-LY SHIT!!”

“Holy sh*t!!’ Bobby mimes the crowd. “Is this the coolest match ever or WHAT!”

“Oh my God…” Mark is stunned. “Taylor’s head practically cracked open! Did you see just how sickening the impact of his head hitting the concrete was??”

“Beautiful, was it not?”

“And just look at Neilsen. He’s been throwing everything he has at TNT to keep him down, and has even hurt himself at the expense of taking out his opponent, so he’s not fresh as a daisy either.”

The Jungle King breathes heavily, trying to convalesce after that suicide dive that he had to dish out earlier, and as soon as he’s ready, he pulls himself up to a vertical base with the help of the ring apron behind him, and begins planning his next move. The proverbial light bulb switches on and by the time Neilsen’s idea becomes clear to him, he’s already hopping up to the ring apron and hiking up the turnbuckle. The crowd swells with anticipation of the Jungle King’s next move, and by the time he reaches the pinnacle of his ring post, an audible buzz has started up!

“Taylor’s down on the concrete, just barely regaining his senses… but Neilsen is ready for him… and the top of a turnbuckle isn’t the place that you really want the HARDCORE KING to be! He could have just about any high-risk maneuver in mind… and none of them will lead to a happy ending for TNT!”

“See, this is why Neilsen can’t even dream of competing with the likes of Tom Flesher and the Suicide King – he’s stupid!” Bobby observes, before following up with his best Neilsen impression: “Oh f**king hey! I’ve f**king got the motherf**king advantage! I f**king better jump off of something super-f**king high, ooh-ah-ah-ah-ah!!”

“…You calling someone stupid is the most ironic thing that’s ever happened on this show. Really.”

The crowd is still humming with excitement by the time Taylor is finally able to stand, and the hum immediately turns into an all-out roar of amazement as Neilsen leaps off of the top turnbuckle – getting plenty of air – and comes plummeting down onto TNT like an atomic bomb!! The Jungle King lands in a seated position on Taylor’s shoulders, scissoring his head between his legs, and uses his existing momentum to spin him all the way around… before falling back and sending TNT for the ride!!

“HURRICANRANA!! HOLY COW!! NEILSEN TRULY IS THE HARDCORE KING!!”

The pull of Neilsen’s legs launches Thompson headfirst into the cell wall near the corner of the structure, and he nearly breaks through the mesh!! Neilsen completes the hurricanrana but is on his feet in no time, charging Taylor at full speed! TNT slumps inertly up against the corner of the cell structure, only able to stand with the support of the cage, and the Jungle King wastes no time in putting the ‘hard’ in ‘hardcore’ as he lurches forward at Taylor and unleashes a flurry of HARD-hitting punches on the explosive one!! Several members of the crowd throw some beer cups and empty food containers at the ring in fury, but the cell protects Neilsen from any flying produce that might come his way.

“Neilsen isn’t even going for the damned pin!!” Mark yells in disgust. “He just wants to tear TNT apart! Taylor has never done anything to him… they’ve never even competed in a match together before, and yet the Jungle King just wants to kill his opponent as if it were a basic instinct.”

“Did you just say ‘kill’…? Well, I never thought I’d say this, but… GOOOOOOOO NEILSEN!!” Bobby eggs on NotJ, or at least the thought of killing TNT.

The Hardcore King still pounds away at the dynamite warrior… right hook there, left jab here… and then, when Taylor seems dazed enough, NotJ grabs onto the cell wall, and pulls himself up so that he’s almost mounted on his opponent, before continuing to plunge right hand after right hand into TNT’s skull, holding himself up on the cage with his left!

“Neilsen’s going for some mounted punches on the cage instead of a ring post, holding himself steady with one hand while smashing in Taylor’s face with the other!”

NotJ’s extra leverage works to his advantage as he delivers punch after punch to TNT’s mug, but as soon as he stops long enough to give him the finger… Taylor comes back to life like Frankenstein, wrapping both of his arms around Neilsen’s waist with a bearhug!! Neilsen’s eyes go wide with what could be mistaken for fear, but is more likely just surprise, as Thompson squeezes Neilsen’s midsection between his thick pythons, and soon takes a step forward, pulling NotJ away from the cage wall altogether! Neilsen panics and starts rapidly delivering punch after punch to Taylor’s bleeding face in an attempt to escape the behemoth’s grasp, but TNT will have none of that… and he lunges forward with the Jungle King in hand, SMASHING him back-first like a rag doll into the steel ring post!!

“HE’S ALIVE!!! HE’s ALIVE!!!!!!!” Stevens shrieks in excitement.

“Oh hey, look,” Bobby watches as Taylor drops the aching Jungle King to the cement in exhaustion, and collapses to the floor himself. “No he’s not.”

“Taylor surprises us all by taking the advantage here, but whether or not he can actually follow up is the real question here.”

TNT lies on the cold concrete, desperately attempting to catch his breath, but the crowd is disappointed to spot NotJ recovering first! The Jungler ascends to his feet by prying himself up the cell wall, and after rubbing any bruises out of his back and cracking his neck a few times, he spins back around to face the downed Taylor, livid as can be! TNT shakes out the cobwebs and starts to get up, but he doesn’t notice a completely recovered Neilsen until it’s too late, as the craziest SOB in the SWF today grabs a handful of Thompson’s dreadlocks, lets out a roar to the audience… and launches his adversary as hard as he can, right into the cage wall!

*** CLANG ***

“Woowhee! Life is beautiful, and now I see why Marky Mark! I feel like Peter Sellers!!”

“…Peter Sellers was in the Pink Panther, Bobby. Roberto Benigni was in Life is Beautiful.”

“Whatever, I get all those Brits mixed up.”

“But they’re not Bri—“

“But really! You’ll be able to see the side of the cell indented on Taylor in the morning, I’ll bet! He’s gonna look like a human waffle!”

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!” says the ever-so-quickly increasing Neilsen-hating portion of the crowd.

Taylor almost breaks all the way through the cell wall, but the mesh doesn’t give completely, and Neilsen yanks him back away from the wall almost as soon as he hits it, grabs a hold of his wrist… and tries to Irish-whip him as hard as any man could right back into it!! TNT decides it appropriate to rain on his parade however, and just as he’s about to hit the oversized waffle-iron that is the cell wall… he plants his foot firmly into the ground, and reverses the Jungler’s whip, sending HIM into the cage wall… which breaks!!!!!! The crowd goes wild as Neilsen almost knocks the cell wall all the way off its hinges, and hurdles right on through it, not stopping until he rams into the guard rail shoulder-first, and falls to the ground in agony!!! Mortal red has consumed Taylor’s entire litso by now, but the audience can still see his pearly whites shining through as he grins a broad grin, and follows Neilsen right out of the cage!!

“Holy sh*t!! The potentiality of these two dying just like, doubled!” Bobby yelps like an excited puppy dog.

“We’re OUT of the cell now… and who knows where this match could go from here!? It’s falls count anywhere folks, and that means ANYWHERE!! In fact, in Neilsen’s last match of this sort, he was beaten by Cyclone Comet after a visually spectacular Russian Leg Sweep from the top of the cage, THROUGH the commentator’s table!!!”

“…Wait, the commentator’s table?? Oh dammit, they should really give us those plastic sheets that they give the audience during Gallagher’s watermelon sketch. I swear, these tables are friggen’ cursed.”

Taylor yanks Neilsen up to his feet immediately, not wanting to give him even a second to collect himself, and takes a moment to gather some strength and position himself… before lifting the Jungler all the way above his head with a gorilla press!! The crowd screams with approval at the former World Champ’s amazing display of strength, and after pressing Neilsen up and down once or twice to show that he’s really in control here, Taylor releases his opponent right above the guardrail, sending him crashing down onto it!! The King of Hardcore’s throat is indeed hardcore, but not hardcore enough to no-sell being snapped right across a steel guardrail, and all that Neilsen can do is gag in anguish as he falls back to the cement, gasping for air and pressing both of his hands up against his pained esophagus!!

“HOL-Y SHIT!!”

“HO-LY SHIT!!”

The crowd chants in astonishment, aside from one or two fans in the front row who reach out and try to choke the Jungle King with their bare hands, delivering kind little proverbs such as “You suck!” and “How hardcore are you now!?” and “I’m going to fuck you up the ass, Jungle King!”

“Wow!” Mark is obviously a little surprised. “They love him when he’s kicking King all about the ring, but tonight, Neilsen just took it too far against Taylor, and the crowd is really resenting him because of his ruthlessness. These New York residents are behind TNT all the way… and their man just might win, as he’s the one in control of this match now, no doubt about it.”

“Eh, as long as he dies of blood-loss AFTER he beats Neilsen into the ground, I’m fine with it…”

Taylor gets a firm handful of Neilsen’s wifebeater and drags him up to his feet, but the King of Hardcore sandbags, desperately trying to by himself more time! It proves to be no use though, and Thompson grips the Jungler’s wrist in his hand as soon as he reaches a vertical base… Irish-whipping him once again, but this time along the outside of the cell structure, right into the guardrail!! NotJ turns to take the impact of the guardrail in the back, and rebounds off of it with a hardy “CLANG,” staggering back towards the awaiting Taylor… who runs forward and meets him with a STIFF, STIFF, MOTHERFUCKING STIFF BURNING LARIAT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

“BURRRRNING LARIATOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” Stevens yells at the top of his lungs, adding a little New Japan touch to his commentating style. “Taylor takes Neilsen out with possibly the most hard-hitting move of this match, INCLUDING the chairshots, and I’m surprised that the Jungler still has a head! I mean, sweet Jesus!”

“This match has been King’s best, idea, ever,” Bobby says as he looks on in aw at the glorious brutality at hand.

“And heck, I’d be willing to say that that’d get TNT the pinfall… but Neilsen of the Jungle is one tough SOB… and Taylor doesn’t even look to be GOING for the pin. What’s he got in mind NOW?”

Taylor looks down grimly at the fallen Jungle King, hate boiling in his eyes, and then without warning, gets an idea.

“Throw me a chair!!” He shouts out a plea for assistance to the live crowd, and boy is his plea answered, as within seconds, about a dozen chairs are flying from every which-way, right at the explosive one!

“TNT seems to want revenge on Neilsen after his assault on him earlier with a steel chair!” Mark predicts. “He’s doing a little crowd participation to get a hold of a weapon… and boy did the crowd decide to participate, as every single fan seated in the front row is… well, no longer seated!”

Thompson gets a hold of one of the many metallic weapons that he receives from the enthusiastic crowd, and gets a hold of Neilsen too, dragging him out of the pile of discarded chairs, and over to the corner of the cell. He boosts his “born to be wild” foe up to his feet, and props him against the massive cage’s corner… before backing up a step… and then swinging forward as hard as he can with the chair, smashing Neilsen’s skull right into the cell!!!!!!!!!!!

*** CLANG ***

“OH MY GOD!!!!!!!!!!!! TAYLOR JUST MADE A TARZAN SANDWICH, WITH A STEEL CHAIR AS THE TOP SLICE OF BREAD!!!!!!!!!” Bobby screeches in revulsion, before adding “That was sooo f**king cool!”

“Holy…” Mark trails off, seeming to be a little more serious about the situation. “Bobby, this isn’t funny, Neilsen could have a serious concussion after that… I mean, any mortal man would be out cold after that.”

“Neilsen, Neilsen, Neilsen of the Jungle, watch out for that CHAAAAAAAAAIR!” Riley happily sings.

The crowd starts up yet another “HO-LY SHIT!!” chant, completely shocked by the sickening visual of Neilsen’s head being squashed like a watermelon, and a replay of the impact is shown up on the Smarktron just in case it was missed the first time. Thompson holds his chair, ready to strike again, showing just about as much mercy for the now bleeding Neilsen as Neilsen did for him earlier, and follows through with his intentions, pulling NotJ up to a standing posture once more… and… letting him go, causing him to drop limply back down to the cement.

“And my suspicions appear to be right after all…” Mark scrutinizes Neilsen’s situation. “The Jungle King is out cold.”

Taylor sighs with disappointment, but still refuses to make the pin, releasing his chair with one hand so that he can grab onto NotJ’s wifebeater with it, and drag him just a few yards over…

“Um, Canned Spam, why are they coming this way!?” Bobby worries aloud.

“I can only imagine Bobby, but Taylor’s intentions probably aren’t good; just look at his eyes! He’s a man possessed!”

“Stay the hell away from me you whacko!! Eek!” Bobby panics as the irate Taylor Thompson drags Neilsen all the way over to the announcer’s table.

He leans his enemy against the commentating booth so that he doesn’t crumble right back to the ground, and hardly even takes the time to wind up, as he propels another chairshot right into Neilsen’s cranium!!

*** CRACK ***

The Jungler’s head snaps back, almost off of his shoulders, and the whiplash causes him to actually fall forward to his knees, hardly conscious enough to even know what’s going on. The crowd screams excitedly at Taylor’s revenge frenzy, and it doesn’t seem to be ending any time soon, as TNT lifts his chair up a third time, and…

“Oooooooooh!” is all the audience can say as Neilsen revives himself quicker than anyone could possibly fathom, and thrusts his arm right up into the dynamite warrior’s crotch!

“Low blow from Neilsen! Where the hell did that come from!?” a very surprised Bobby asks a very surprised Mark.

“You have to think that the Jungle King just pulled that move right out of his behind, but either way, it seems to have worked, and referee Brian Hebner can do nothing about it. This is no DQ!”

Every single fan in the arena is completely startled to see Neilsen showing any signs of life, and they boo their hearts out as the Jungle King struggles to his feet… TNT has dropped his chair and leans slightly forward in testicular agony, but before he has time to recover, Neilsen reaches a vertical base, and in an act of complete desperation, he leans back quickly before nailing a hard headbutt on TNT! Taylor recoils in pain a bit, holding his already bruised and bloodied head with both of his hands, but Neilsen is fast on the follow-up, and he hits both of Thompson’s arms out of the way before delivering a second headbutt!”

“Neilsen is slowly mounting a comeback it seems, but he’s hurting himself in the process! Those headbutts are bruising up his head just as much as they are TNT’s, and he’s going to have to switch gears soon if he wants his second wind to last!” Mark foreshadows.

”Bu--… but how the hell is he even MOVING!?” Bobby questions the logistics of Neilsen’s sudden recovery.

“He’s probably one of the toughest men in the World Bobby… he’s obviously hurt, but he’s Neilsen of the Jungle, and I’ll be damned if he’s going to let his injuries slow him down at all when it comes to laying the smackdown.”

Taylor grunts as he receives a third headbutt, and then again as he receives a fourth, but realizing that he needs to switch his game plan to something more efficient, Neilsen clinches a handful of TNT’s dreadlocks in his right hand, and turns around to face the commentator’s table… throwing TNT right into it!

“INCOMING!”

“Watch the hair… and the nails, too! I just got those done you know!”

Thompson lands on the commentary table and doubles right over it, but when he gets back up and turns around, Neilsen has the chair in hand, and he blasts it over his opponent’s head, sending him right back onto the announcing booth! An entire river, no… lake, no… ocean of blood has formed from TNT’s face now, and he lies perfectly still on top of the commentary table, as in the meantime, Neilsen is climbing up onto the guardrail almost less than a yard away!

“Oh God… What’s he got in mind now…” Mark is just completely drained from this match, and isn’t sure if he can take any more.

An army of boos invades the arena as Neilsen – chair still in hand – struggles to maintain his balance, but once he’s confident that he’s gained some poise in his stance… he lets out a roar to the crowd, and then leaps into the air, extending his leg and placing his chair under it… SUCCESSFULLY HITTING AN ARABIC FACEBUSTER ON THE EXPLOSIVE ONE!!!!! The table doesn’t quite break, and Neilsen almost slides on his BUTT right off of it, as the crowd’s negativity is in full effect!!!

“CHAIR-ASSISTED LEG DROP ONTO OUR TABLE!?!?” Bobby says, standing just a few feet away from the carnage. “That bastard better be willing to pay for that!”

“Oh please Bobby, these are like ten bucks with the discounts we get.”

“Well, I suppose that it did add one to Thompson’s concussion tally, which is always a good thing, but still!”

The completely spent physical wreck that is Neilsen weakly rolls off of the commentating table, tossing his chair aside. He’s thrown just about everything in his arsenal at the former World Champion, whether he hurt himself in the process or not, but it’s clear that he still doesn’t think that it’s enough. The Jungler grunts at the soreness of his entire body and rubs his back in pain, but he already has another, and possibly final sadistic act in mind for his battered opponent, as his eyes slowly scale the towering cell that’s foundation remains just a couple of yards away!

“OH NO!!!!!” Mark screams in horror at what’s to come, hardly audible over the half-booing, half-buzzing crowd. “Neilsen’s going up top!”

“Get the paramedics ready, because this is going to be an orgy of injury!” Riley is on the edge of his seat, though he’s still standing.

The crowd lets out a low hum of anticipation as NotJ is already ascending the sixteen-foot cell with hurtful intentions, and he stops at around the eight-foot mark, looking down upon his antagonist’s corpse from half way up the cell. The crowd contemplates whether or not Neilsen’s going all the way up top and just what he’s going to do… but by the time they even narrow it down to about twenty possibilities… Neilsen flashes a crazed grin to the audience, his eyes go wide and he lets out a roar, before propelling himself from the cage, and plummeting…

…all…

…the way…

…down…!!!!

“ELBOW DROP FROM EIGHT-FEET HIGH!!!!” Stevens shrieks as a 245-pound unidentified object soars down from the cell, headed right for TNT!

…

*** CRASH ***

“SWEET JESUS!!!” Mark’s eyes go wide as Taylor rolls off of the Jungle King’s bull’s-eye just in time, leaving Neilsen to crash right through the commentators’ table!!! “TNT MOVES, AND NEILSEN COULD BE DEAD!!!!!!!!!”

“And in debt!! Our precious table!”

The final “HO-LY SHIT!!” chant of the match initiates from the MSG audience, and both wrestlers lie completely, utterly, absolutely still for an entire minute, until TNT…

…who has received a beating that he will never forget…

…who has been bludgeoned with a chair, and thrown into cell walls…

…manages to drape is near-lifeless arm over the carcass of Neilsen of the Jungle, and make the pin.

“ONE!!”

“Neilsen’s had his brains dashed across the cell with devastating chairshots and been dropped throat-first across an unforgiving guardrail… but even on the offense, in his attempts to keep the advantage at all times, he tried the riskiest of the risky, and hurt himself in the process…”

“TWO!!”

“…And those risky, suicidal maneuvers have all piled up, until Neilsen finally went one…

…elbowdrop…

…too far!”

“THREEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

Neither of the men moves a fraction. The physically destroyed grapplers just lie there motionless as Hebner calls for the bell, “TNT” starts up, and Funyon makes it official.

*** DINGDINGDING ***

“Your winner… via pinfall… ‘TNT’ TAYLOR NICHOLAS THOMPSOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONNNNNN!!!!!” Funyon bellows over the ear-splitting cheers that resound throughout MSG!

“What a bout!” Mark says, marking this one down as a for-sure classic. “These two gave eachother all they had, but in the end, Neilsen just went a bit too hardcore, and all Taylor had to do was pin him to get the win!”

“Well, we’ll all be looking back and laughing at all this when Neilsen has to wrestle King in a body-cast, eh?”

“We’ve got so many questions to be answered – Suicide King’s reaction to this match, Tod deKindes’ reaction to this match, even Tom Flesher’s reaction to this match… but we’ve got to get all of this junk cleared away before the end of the commercial break, so sadly those questions will have to wait! This has been one hell of a match… but stay tuned, because it looks like it’ll only be getting better. Tom Flesher versus Jay Dawg for the World Heavyweight Title… is NEXT,” Mark concludes as Bobby almost has an orgasm at the mentioning of Tom’s name, and we fade out to Neilsen and TNT being helped out of the ringside area by several medics, and the luminous cell rising back up to the rafters…

May 24, 2003

Stevens: Folks, we'll take you to our main event in just a bit, but this is what our cameras caught backstage during the break. I don't believe this.

Cut to the "During The Break" graphic, as it shows an exhausted and heavy-breathed Taylor Nicholas Thompson, resting up against an anvil case and recuperating from what was an absolutely brutal Hell In The Cell match. His fuzzy trail of thoughts was distracted by the sound of sarcastic clapping coming from his right.

Tod: Taylor, my man! Good effort tonight! Way to get your ass kicked! I ESPECIALLY liked that part where you did the move, or the thing on the other thing ... man, all good stuff!! ... Except the ending, I was out getting nachos so I didn't see who won. Not like I care anyway ...

TNT: (taking a second to catch his breath) This ... is not a good time. So you ... get the fuck outta my face ... before I mess up yours ...

Tod: (the smart-ass smirk disappeared) Really. First, answer me this ... How can you mess up my face ... exhausted as you are now? ... Right.

Tod suddenly snaps off his hand and NAILS Taylor in the head with a series of rights!

Stevens: (narrating) Look at this, Tod deKindes had the GALL to attack TNT RIGHT after his Hell In A Cell match!

Riley: I see nothing wrong with that, Stevens. Why? Because Tod has vowed to rid this company of TNT. With the match he just went through, there's no WAY he could withstand a Cell match AND this wicked beating.

Using whatever strength he had left, TNT attempted to make a comeback as he tacked Tod down to the floor, replying with weak rights of his own. Referees and road agents quickly rushed in to pull apart this brawl.

Stevens: Luckily, our officials came in time to stop this thing from getting any uglier.

Riley: Luckily?! These agents are paid to sit in the back, eat donuts and ruin the fun!

While Tod is held back kicking and screaming, TNT seems to have calmed down, thus ensuring his release by the officials.

Tod: Lemme at 'im! Couple more kicks to the head and he woulda been DONE!!

TNT: Listen you little SHIT! ... I am SICK and TIRED of you. For months ... you've been pissing me off. You cost me a match against Beezel. You cost me a match against JD. I've HAD IT!! ... Next wednesday ... Storm ... I want your ass in a match, and we're gonna settle this once and for all.

Tod: (heckling the agents) Git off me! ... All right. Next wednesday? I would SO love the occasion - for pain infliction. Yeah! You got it!

The officials resumed their jobs, as they escorted both men away in a separate direction.

Stevens: There you have it, TNT vs Tod deKindes for next wednesday, the challenge is out, Bobby!

Riley: Challenge? It'll be nothing more than a simple exhibition of the greatness that is Tod! He will make his grand return to the ring and he'll TOTALLY dispose of TNT once and for all! This is no longer the Junior Leagues, Stevens. You think you seen it all between these two, but you are WRONG!

Stevens: That remains to be seen, but for now we got one last commercial break and coming up next: Tom Flesher defends the World Heavyweight title against Jay Dawg!

Riley: Woof!

Edited May 24, 2003 by Edwin MacPhisto

May 24, 2003

Madison Square Garden lights up once again as SWF Storm returns from a commercial! The fans are on their feet, many wearing the official SWF Jay Dawg t-shirt and holding up supportive signs such as “Oh Tom, You Can’t Hurt Him,” and “THIS IS HIS HOUSE!” The camera zooms in on the announcers, seated at their table near the ring, and “Grand Slam” Mark Stevens and Bobby Riley are clearly both anticipating the main event.

“Fans, welcome back to SWF Storm!” says Mark Stevens. “Last week, we saw Tom Flesher and Jay Dawg square off in a non-title match that ended with Jay Dawg not only outwrestling Flesher throughout the match, but coming out on top with a pin right in the middle of the ring, following what amounts to an unprotected head drop.”

“That was SICKENING!” says Bobby Riley, interjecting himself right on cue. “I’m starting a campaign right now to ban sheer head-dropping moves from the SWF! They’re ridiculous, disgusting and completely unnecessary! Taylor Thompson’s Detonation Drop, Danny Williams’ throwing piledriver… it’s all horrible and can lead to broken necks! There’s absolutely no reason for this!”

“So I suppose you’ll be campaigning to ban Flesher’s Ego Buster, backdrop driver and Boilermaker, then?”

“What the hell are you talking about? Flesher’s the obvious exception. He wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

“The submission master. The one who once broke Mike Van Siclen’s leg and has injured countless others… wouldn’t hurt a fly,” Stevens scoffs.

“Damn straight, Marky Mark. It’s not his fault his technique’s that much better.”

“Well, all that ‘superior’ technique didn’t keep Jay Dawg from putting his back to the mat for three seconds last week, and Jay Dawg plans to do the same thing tonight with the World Title on the line! It sounds like the fans are ready to blow, so let’s go straight to Funyon!”

Funyon, standing in the ring, announces, “Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is tonight’s main event… and it is for the SWF… WORLD… CHAMPIONSHIP!” He pauses for the fans to cheer, and then announces, “The challenger…”

Multiple Fireworks explode around the arena, rafters and entrance ramp. The lights go out...

"THIS

IS

MAH

HOUSE!!"

The voice, obviously pre recorded, echoes through the arena. Rammstein's 'Du Hast' plays without the lyrics... The heavy beats thunder 360 degrees throughout the arena. Jamie “Jay Dawg” Drazon steps through the curtains, his head down. He walks to the top of the ramp, slowly raising his head. He lowers his head again, although a smile is now plastered on his face. The smile isn’t pleasant, though… it shows only his intent to rip Tom Flesher limb from limb.

“From Vancouver, British Columbia, and weighing in tonight at 243 pounds, this is the Hardcore Maniac, Jamie “Jay Dawg” DRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAZON!!!!!!!”

Jay Dawg enters the ring, placing his hands on his thighs, and slowly cracks his neck. He steps back into the corner and leans on the turnbuckles, resting as he waits for his rival.

“And his opponent…”

The SmarkTron goes white with the blue words "SUPERIORITY COMPLEX" and "MAGNIFICENT SEVEN" on it. Then, with an explosion of blue pyro, "Kashmir" by Led Zeppelin bursts out over the loudspeaker. Tom Flesher emerges from the cloud of smoke, striding confidently to the ring as videos of his signature moves alternate in half-second clips with the words "SUPERIOR ONE," "AWARD-WINNING," "MAIN ATTRACTION," "MAGNIFICENT SEVEN" and “WORLD CHAMPION.” 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.

“Tonight,” begins Funyon as he reads the index card, “we have a quandary. Jay Dawg has come away once with a meaningless victory, and this man is sure that you all expect the challenger to dethrone the champion tonight. However, this would cause the earth to shake, mountains to move, and a little thing we like to call ‘The Apocalypse.’ So, tonight, for your safety and mine, this man is going to retain the SWF World Title, because he loves each and every one of you as much as you love him… maybe more. So bow down before the benevolent World Champion! Bow down before your Superior One, TOM FLESHER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

Flesher golf-claps for himself, ignoring the crowd's boos, and then strips off his warmup top, revealing the SWF World Title belt beneath it. He removes the belt, then takes the pants off and folds everything, setting it in the corner. He hands the belt to referee Jim Stine, who holds the belt in the air, sparking a cheer from the crowd as Flesher and Jay Dawg meet in the center of the ring. Stine bends down to check Jay Dawg’s baggy black pants for weapons, and as soon as he turns his back, Flesher unloads a stiff knife-edge chop across JD’s throat! Stine looks up, Flesher immediately raises his hands in a gesture of innocence, and Stine calls for the bell!

DING DING DING!!!!!

Jay Dawg, caught off-guard by the chop to the throat, isn’t quite ready as Flesher hauls off and unloads a bitchslap across his face! Jim Stine scurries out from between the two wrestlers as Flesher shoves Jay Dawg backwards and straight into a corner. With rage in his eyes, Flesher bitchslaps the challenger once again, then unloads a stiff palm strike to his jaw! Drazon can’t find a moment to regain his composure, and Flesher continues abusing him with a hard boot to the abdomen. Jay Dawg tries to fight his way out of the corner, but Flesher shoves him back in, and another hard kick- this one to the knee- takes the Hardcore Maniac down to the mat! As the crowd boos Flesher for the unscrupulous start to the match, Flesher plants his boot on Jay Dawg’s face and scrapes it so hard that he nearly loses his balance! Flesher steps back, looking at Jay Dawg as his hands come up to protect his face, and finally he ends the assault. With a smirk, he steps away, starting a golf clap for himself and setting off a round of boos from the crowd.

“Well, Flesher starts the match off by violating the rules,” says Mark Stevens, “and so he takes advantage of an illegality by getting the early upper hand. What an example to set.”

“Hey, if the referee doesn’t see it, he can’t call it, and as far as Jim Stine knows, nothing’s gone wrong in this match.”

As Flesher plays to the crowd, Jay Dawg comes up to his knees and slides up behind him. Before Flesher notices him, JD rears back and slams his forearm into Flesher’s crotch! The fans burst into cheers, and Jay Dawg stands up behind Flesher. He pauses and carefully measures, pumping his leg as Flesher stands doubled over, holding his groin in pain. When he finally stands up, the Hardcore Maniac unloads an unbelievably stiff Thai Roundhouse kick to the back of Flesher’s head! The World Champion staggers forward and falls flat on his face, not even sure where he’s going until he manages to roll out of the ring holding his head! Jamie Drazon stays in the ring, eyes only half-open, a small smile on his face as the crowd chants, “YOU CAN’T HURT HIM! *clap clap clapclapclap*” over and over again.

“Now THAT was unethical!” shouts Bobby Riley. “That was a blatant low blow, and Jay Dawg’s got the advantage because of it! I want him disqualified NOW!”

“Oh, but it’s okay for Flesher to attack Jay Dawg before the bell.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. All I know is that if Jay Dawg hurt Tom Flesher’s chances to procreate, the world as we know it will end when Flesher dies.”

“Bobby, the world doesn’t NEED another Tom Flesher.”

“… SOMEONE’S going to have to pop Hollyanna Craven’s cherry on prom night, Mark.”

Jay Dawg watches Flesher on the outside, and as he starts to stand up, the Hardcore Maniac runs across the ring and bounces off the ropes, sprinting toward Flesher. He grabs the top rope and starts to vault over, but Flesher drops back down to the concrete! Jay Dawg, though, keeps the top rope and flips over onto the apron, landing harmlessly on his feet! The crowd issues a collective “Ooooooh!” as Flesher stands up, tapping his temple in a satisfied manner. JD beats him to the punch, though, and jumps off the apron with an elbow smash! He hits Flesher over the head with the steely point of his elbow, and Flesher collapses to the concrete. JD grabs him and rolls him back into the ring, then slides in behind him to thunderous applause from the crowd. Jay Dawg lays across Flesher, and Jim Stine counts

ONE!!!!

TWO!!!!!!

KICKOUT!!!!!! Flesher gets his shoulder up well before the three-count and starts to roll to his stomach. Jay Dawg grabs his arm and pulls him back, holding the wrist and trying to scissor the arm for a jujigatame! Panicking, Flesher retracts the arm and gets up to his knees. JD spins around to face him on his hands and knees, but Flesher immediately grabs him in a front facelock! He sprawls backwards, extending Jay Dawg’s body and making it much harder for him to break the hold by putting all his weight on JD’s neck.

“Flesher locks up the grovit, made famous by British indy worker Tom Billington” says Bobby Riley. “He knows exactly what he’s doing here… you can see him putting the weight on Jay Dawg’s neck and drawing his own elbows into his ribs to tighten the grip and restrict the blood flow to his opponent’s neck. Now, if Jay Dawg tries to stand up, Flesher can just arch his hips in and force the chin right into the chest. This is one of the hardest moves to break in the Greco-Roman school of wrestling, Mark, and I doubt Jay Dawg even knows what it’s called.”

“It’s a front facelock, Bobby. JD uses it himself, and he’s broken it as recently as last week. And Tom Billington was hardly an indy worker.”

“Pfft. Tell me when his SWF stint was and I’ll believe you.”

Jay Dawg tries to stack his knees up under his hips to build up a base on which to break the front facelock. Flesher, feeling an impending counter, spreads out on his knees to make his base as wide as possible, and then stands up. He pulls Jay Dawg roughly to his feet, pushing his hips into JD’s head just as Bobby Riley described a moment earlier. Jay Dawg, starting to turn red, tries to drive in for a Northern Lights suplex, but Flesher sprawls backwards to counter before regrouping and tightening the grovit. Jay Dawg strains to regain his footing, but Flesher continues putting pressure on his neck. Finally, Jay Dawg decides to cut his losses and skip the Northern Lights suplex. He grabs Flesher by the left elbow with both hands, and then passes the elbow by his jaw to shuck the arm off and break the headlock. This leaves Flesher standing up with his body half-turned to the side due to the arm drag. Before he can reposition himself, Jay Dawg drives into him desperately with a spear! Flesher staggers backwards, but in his weakened state, Jamie Drazon can’t muster the energy to make a full-out effort to take Flesher down. Instead, he stops to catch his breath, filling up his lungs with the oxygen Flesher was doing his best to deny him.

“What a great strategy by Flesher!” gushes Bobby Riley. “He knows Jay Dawg is a total masochist, so he’s not concentrating on putting him in traditional submission holds. Instead, he’s weakening him with chokes and holds that fatigue rather than injure. Simply genius.”

“Tom Flesher is certainly opting for an unusual plan of attack,” agrees Mark Stevens, “but he’s not going to get far if Jay Dawg knows how to counter every one of his moves. Keep in mind that Jamie Drazon is a very accomplished martial artist and grappler, and so Flesher’s going to have a hard time outwrestling him. In fact, Drazon outwrestled him, plain and simple, last week!”

Flesher regains his footing before Jay Dawg gets his wind back, and so the World Champion steps forward, slamming a boot straight into the challenger’s face! JD collapses backwards and Flesher boots him stiffly in the ribs. Jay Dawg sits up, but Flesher plants his Doc Marten in his chest and stomps him back to the mat! He covers for

ONE!!!!

TWONOOOOOOO!!!!!!! Jay Dawg easily kicks out of the lackadaisical pin and sits back up, forcing Flesher off. Tom stands up, then reaches down to grab Jay Dawg by the hair. The challenger grips Flesher by the wrist, twisting it slightly to take control. The Hardcore Maniac keeps his death grip on the wrist as he leans back, jerking Flesher back to the mat and nearly locking on a jujigatame! Flesher pulls his arm back slightly, countering just as JD expects him to. Drazon follows through by pivoting around, pulling Flesher’s arm over his shoulder and slamming him to the mat with a Japanese armdrag! He steps over as Flesher tries to grab the ropes but comes up just a few inches short. Flesher’s face falls, and Jay Dawg begins to smile sadistically as he applies a stepover armbar! Tom Flesher grimaces in pain, trying to strain for the ropes as Jay Dawg simply grins in his trademark depraved manner.

“Jay Dawg playing the game just a little bit better than Tom Flesher,” says Mark Stevens. “He makes a move thinking three steps ahead, knowing exactly how the World Champion is going to counter it. You have to admire that level of research and knowledge, Bobby.”

“Well, heavy is the head that wears the crown,” replies Riley tersely. “Tom Flesher’s got an enormous target on his back right now, because he’s like the sword in the stone. Everyone wants to be the one to dethrone him simply because he’s so damn unbeatable.”

“Jay Dawg’s not trying to pull the sword from the stone, Bobby. He’s trying to pull Flesher’s arm from his socket.”

Sure enough, Jay Dawg continues torquing Flesher’s left arm as hard as he can, with Flesher wincing in pain the whole time. When it becomes clear that Flesher isn’t going to tap out, though, JD takes the next step. He rolls to the side, locking on a jujigatame! Flesher’s eyes open wide in surprise, then slam shut as his face twists into a mask of pain! Drazon tries to yank Flesher’s arm apart at the joints, and Flesher flails wildly, trying even harder now to reach the ropes! He pulls himself just an inch closer and reaches out, managing to get a few fingers onto the bottom strand! Jay Dawg tries to pull him away, but by the time he realizes what’s happening, Tom has managed to wrap his hand around the cable and force a rope break! Jim Stine administers the count:

ONE!

TWO!

Jay Dawg keeps the hold, tightening it to get as much mileage out of the next few seconds as he possibly can.

THREE!

FOUR!

Jay Dawg doesn’t break the hold, instead forcing Stine to drop to the mat and physically break it himself. The official admonishes Jay Dawg for his illegal actions, but doesn’t disqualify him. Flesher, meanwhile, holds his shoulder. Jay Dawg steps back in his stance, waiting for Flesher to get up.

“So what the hell was that, Mark? How’s your hero Jay Dawg now? He’s just a rulebreaking piece of trash!” Riley is livid. “And You have the nerve to accuse FLESHER of breaking the rules!”

“Jay Dawg was simply extending the hold as long as he could legally. Besides, turnabout is fair play, especially when Jay Dawg put Tom Flesher on his back last week but didn’t win the World Title! He should be wearing the belt right now.”

“So who’s to say Flesher wouldn’t have defended successfully last week if the title WAS on the line? He’s made three successful defenses against tough opponents. That’s almost the record for most defenses, Mark. Only HVille Thugg and Edwin MacPhisto have more, and look at them! Flesher could SO take them out right now! He’s the future of the sport!”

“Tough talk, threatening a man with a broken neck and someone who’s been AWOL for six months.”

After a moment, the World Champion gets back up, stepping toward Jamie Drazon, only to be caught around the leg and head for a T-bone suplex! Flesher lands stiffly on his head and crashes to the mat, as the fans cheer. Flesher grabs his head in pain. Jay Dawg covers him for

ONE!!!!!

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

THREE!!!!!

NO!!!!!!!!! Flesher gets his shoulder up a moment before Jim Stine can make the third and final count. Jay Dawg, unfazed by the kickout, stands up and grabs Flesher’s left leg. He pulls it into the air and extends it, then unloads with a stiff kick to the hamstring! The crowd pops for him as he once again boots Flesher in the back of the leg. The Superior One tries to pull away, but JD keeps the leg extended. He jumps into the air as if he were going for Flesher’s trademark elbow drop into the knee, but aims more toward the center, and…

“Dear god!” says Riley.

“Ouch!” agrees Stevens.

The crowd gasps in spite of their obvious partisanship as Jay Dawg drops into Flesher’s groin with a stiff elbow drop! JD sits up, a sickening smile on his face, and Flesher curls up into the fetal position, rolling from side to side on the mat and making small dry-heave motions.

“That’s the second blatant low blow Jay Dawg has used in this match!” spits Riley, so angry that he’s almost unable to talk. “That’s inexcusable! That’s disgusting, unethical, against the rules and… and… and…”

“Exactly the sort of thing Flesher would be doing if he was able to hang with Jamie Drazon. Admit it, Riley, the Hardcore Maniac’s getting the better of the World Champion tonight.”

“BS! Tom’s getting a hometown job!”

“Flesher’s from Buffalo, and Jay Dawg’s from Vancouver. This is New York City. How exactly is Jay Dawg getting the home court advantage?”

“Don’t ask me! I’m not the one screwing the out-of-towner!”

“… But I’m sure you-” Mark stops himself, thinking better of making the obvious joke.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

Jay Dawg’s eyes flutter shut once again as he falls into The Zone. He dives onto the hurting Flesher, shoving him to his back and unloading a flurry of hard right hands into his face in true ground-and-pound fashion. Flesher tries to bring his hands up to block the assault, but Jamie Drazon shoves his arms away and hammers him with one last haymaker before going for the pin.

ONE!!!!

TWO!!!!!!!!

THREE ---- NO! Flesher gets a shoulder up early, and Jay Dawg’s smile closes slightly as he realizes he hasn’t yet managed to put the World Champion away.

“I’m amazed that Jay Dawg is getting as many hits in as he is,” says Bobby Riley. “You know, for someone with no real technique.”

“I’ll ignore the obvious error there, Bobby, and just say that Jay Dawg is so fired up by his win last week that he’s willing to do anything to get Flesher down… and Flesher’s so angry about the loss that he’s willing to do anything to get the win back. That’s why these two are having such a violent, hard-hitting match.”

“I just hope Tom’s face doesn’t get hurt.”

“Pardon?”

“Or his ass.”

“What?”

“You know, it could hurt his ability to lift guys for suplexes.”

Jay Dawg slams another series of hard punches to Flesher’s head, dazing the World Champion and finishing the series with a stiff elbow over the head that sends Flesher slumping to the mat. He covers for

ONE!!!!

TWO!!!!!!!!

THREE!!!!!!!!!! - NO!!!!!! Flesher once again gets a shoulder up with Jim Stine’s hand just a hair’s breadth away from the mat! He looks up at his adversary, as if he’s expecting what the fans already know is coming.

Jay Dawg slams his fists into Flesher’s head, this time even harder than the two sets before! He lands one extremely stiff fist to Flesher’s eyes, which Flesher reels from. He brings his hands up to protect his face, but Jamie Drazon tries to pry them away. Desperate to end the slaughtering, Tom grabs his opponent’s wrist in an attempt to keep him from being able to swing. JD, still fresher than Tom, starts to pull away to break the grip, but Flesher frantically pulls away and kicks his legs around Jay Dawg’s shoulder and head! He crosses his feet at the ankles, securing the triangle choke and bringing a round of boos from the fans!

“Now THAT’S my Tom!” says Riley proudly. “I knew he’d find a way to break that barbaric punchy-punchy bull.”

“Flesher blocks the third series of punches and manages to lock on a triangle choke,” says Mark Stevens. “That would ordinarily be a poor choice, since Jay Dawg is trained in the grounded martial arts in particular… but there’s really no good way to break this hold aside from the power bomb counter, but I’m not sure Jay Dawg is fresh enough to pull that off.”

Flesher holds the scissors grip as tightly as he can, while JD tries to pull himself toward the ropes. Just happy to have a moment to breathe, Tom relaxes and sandbags to add extra weight for JD to pull. Jay Dawg gets closer to the ropes and kicks one leg over, but Flesher pulls himself back just a half-inch or so and makes his opponent miss the ropes entirely. As he starts to turn a bright shade of red, Jay Dawg grimaces, then resolvedly pulls himself back again. This time, he kicks his leg over the bottom rope and succeeds in locking his legs around it in a scissors grip. Jim Stine counts

ONE!

TWO!

THREE!

FOUR!

Flesher keeps his hold, just as Jay Dawg kept the jujigatame earlier in the match. Jim Stine gruffly drops to the mat and starts to pull Flesher’s legs apart, and Flesher simply stays passively on the mat. Finally, Stine gets the hold broken and threatens Flesher with disqualification. Tom dismissively waves the ref away and reaches down to grab Jay Dawg’s wrist. He pulls him to his feet and starts to whip him to the corner, but the Hardcore Maniac plants his Lugz on the mat and reverses the motion into a vicious short-arm clothesline! Flesher collapses to the mat, and Drazon drops onto him with a kneedrop to the head. Flesher grabs his head but rolls to his stomach to avoid being pinned. Jamie Drazon complacently sits down on Flesher’s back and smiles sadistically. He reaches down, grabbing the small amount of hair on Flesher’s head in both hands and yanking it backwards! Flesher screams out loud, trying to get JD’s hands off, but fails.

“Modified camel clutch by Jay Dawg!” says Mark Stevens, clearly enjoying himself. “Let’s see Flesher last in this one.”

“That’s not a camel clutch, you asshole!” says Riley, playing into Stevens’ facetious call. “That’s nothing but an illegal hair pull!”

“A martial-arts caballo-style hair pull, Bobby.”

“Eat me.”

Jim Stine busts in, shouting at Jay Dawg to break the hold. JD simply answers, “Count me.”

ONE!

TWO!

THREE!

FOUR!

Jay Dawg dutifully breaks the hold, knowing not to push his luck too far. Flesher tucks his head down, still in pain, but JD pulls him up to his feet. He wraps his hands around Flesher’s neck and lifts him into the air, holding him in the blatantly illegal Hangman’s Choke! Stine admonishes him to break the hold, but once again, the Hardcore Maniac shouts for him to count!

ONE!

TWO!

THREE!

FOUR!

Jay Dawg finally releases the hold, but Flesher holds his neck as he crashes to the mat. Jim Stine shouts at Jay Dawg to cut the crap and stop cheating, but JD ignores him, except for a short bout of feigning innocence to mock Flesher’s begging-off routine and draw a cheap pop from the crowd.

“Come on!” says Bobby Riley. “How long is he gonna let this crap go?”

“As long as Jamie doesn’t do anything worth disqualifying him over, I’d say.”

“What do you call that?”

“Using the legal limits of the rules to your advantage?”

Jay Dawg’s eyes open back up slightly as he senses the end of the match coming soon. He reaches down and lifts his adversary up as if for a body slam, but stalls and holds him upside down over one shoulder. This prompts a round of cheers from the crowd, as they see his square driver coming up! Flesher sees it too, though, and starts to scramble back. Despite Jay Dawg’s efforts to hold him in position, Flesher manages to wriggle down behind him and drop to the mat, picking JD’s ankle out from under him and sending him spilling to the mat when he stands back up! Jay Dawg doesn’t stay down for long, though, as he pops right back up when Flesher releases his ankle. As soon as JD gets to his feet, though, Flesher drives into him from behind and ducks his head under the challenger’s shoulder! Drazon tries to pull away, but Flesher arches backwards quickly and nails him with a sickening backdrop driver! The crowd goes absolutely silent as, just like that, Jay Dawg is out cold on the mat! Flesher simply rolls onto him with a smirk and covers for

ONE!!!!

TWO!!!!!!!!

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

NO!!!!!!!!!!!! JAMIE DRAZON GETS A SHOULDER UP WITH ONLY NANOSECONDS TO SPARE! Flesher looks up at Jim Stine, both shocked and angry, and shouts that it was a three-count. Stine simply holds up two fingers, and Jay Dawg rolls to his stomach.

“THAT WAS THREE!” says Bobby Riley angrily.

“It was not. Jim Stine’s been with us for over a year and he always calls it right down the middle.”

“Bite me, it’s obvious that he has a personal vendetta against Tom Flesher!”

“Oh, come on!”

“So do you! So does EVERYONE!”

Flesher gets onto Jay Dawg’s back, looking sourly at the referee, and grabs his opponent’s head. He starts to stiff-arm Jay Dawg, looking for the Superior Stretch Beta! JD immediately starts to panic, grabbing Flesher by the arm and trying to block the hold! Tom fights for it, pushing harder and harder as he tries to secure the match-ending hold, but Jay Dawg keeps his hold on Flesher’s arm and spins out to the side! He keeps Flesher’s arm and stands up. Flesher tries to escape to the ropes, but JD pulls him in and locks on a full nelson! As the fans burst into cheers, he bends backwards and throws Flesher in a broad arc through the air and straight onto the back of his head with a Dragon suplex! Jim Stine counts

ONE!!!!

TWO!!!!!!!!

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

NO!!!!!! Stine waves off the fall as Flesher gets one shoulder just millimeters off the canvas!!!!!!!! Jay Dawg releases Flesher and rolls to the side as the fans burst into a chorus of boos!

Jay Dawg grabs Flesher’s arm and pulls him toward the corner. He yanks the World Champion backwards, then whips him as hard as he can into the corner chest-first! Flesher grabs his sternum and staggers a few feet back, where JD pulls him into position for a Russian leg sweep! He starts to kick back, but Flesher grabs the top rope and stops the fall! He takes hold of Drazon’s arm and yanks it to the side, then kicks his heel out from under him! A moment later he steps around and secures the reverse facelock for William Hearford’s stretch plum!

“HELD WITHOUT BAIL! HELD WITHOUT BAIL!” Bobby nearly has a conniption as Flesher locks on the deadly submission. “THIS IS IT! THIS ONE’S OVER!”

Jay Dawg’s eyes fly open, and he looks at Jim Stine, who asks him if he wants to quit. JD instead smiles broadly, sickly, enjoying the trademarked submission and not even considering giving up. Flesher, content, leans back in the hold for fatigue purposes.

“Tom Flesher knows that Jay Dawg isn’t going to tap,” says Mark Stevens. “It’s odd to see him holding out on a submission like this when he’s spent the whole match working holds like the grovit and the triangle choke.”

“It’s simple, you numbnut,” says Riley cockily. “He’s stressing the neck so he can set Jay Dawg up for the Ego Trip! What wrestling school did you go to?”

Flesher looks down at Jay Dawg, his eye starting to swell up even further from the haymaker he took earlier in the match. Once he sees Jay Dawg’s breathing starting to look labored, he releases the hold and scoots back a few feet.

“See?” says Riley. “Now he’s going to put JD right down for the count.”

Jay Dawg stands straight up, and Flesher grabs him around the waist for a German suplex! JD tries desperately to switch, but Flesher blocks it and keeps his grip. Desperate to avoid being knocked out, Drazon does the only thing he can do… he falls forward, hugging the mat and refuses to be lifted. The fans boo, some angry at Jay Dawg bailing out despite his self-professed masochism and some just disappointed that he couldn’t counter out. Flesher sneers and shoves JD away, showing nothing but contempt for his adversary… who then proceeds to lift his heel and kick the champion squarely in the balls.

The crowd goes wild.

“THAT IS THE THIRD BLATANT LOW BLOW JAMIE DRAZON HAS USED IN THIS MATCH!” shouts Bobby Riley. “THIS IS SICKENING! HAVE THAT MAN PUT AWAY!”

“Let’s see YOU tell him he’s disqualified.”

“Um… no, see, it would affect my contract,” says Riley meekly.

“Thought so.”

Jay Dawg leaves Flesher doubled over, then turns to face him and grabs both his arms! The crowd cheers, knowing he’s setting up JD’s Revenge! Flesher struggles, trying to keep JD from crossing his arms in the gokuraku position that prevents him from breaking the fall… but Jay Dawg simply outmuscles him and yanks his arms around his throat as hard as he can! Tom frantically tries to counter any way he can, finally standing straight up and, with his arms still held in place, falling backwards in a Mountain Bomb variation! He knocks the wind out of JD, then rolls over and stands up. JD breathes hard, but Flesher doesn’t give him a second to recover. He grabs JD by the head, trying to pull him to his feet. Jay Dawg instead shoots in, grabbing Flesher’s ankle for a low single leg takedown! Tom sprawls back, but JD keeps his grip. Flesher reaches down, grabbing Jay Dawg around the waist in gutwrench position! JD tries desperately to hold the mat just as he did before, but this time Flesher lets out a loud kiai and lifts the Hardcore Maniac vertically into the air! JD’s eyes, a sharp blue, stare out at Jim Stine as Flesher releases him, letting him collapse to the mat with the Ego Buster! JD lands hard, flat on his back, and looking absolutely fit for the pinning.

Flesher, however, has other ideas.

He reaches down, grabs Jay Dawg, and locks him up for another gutwrench.

“What the hell is he doing?!” says Mark Stevens.

“Well, he knows Jay Dawg kicked out of an Ego Buster last week,” says Bobby Riley, muttering “Cheating bastard” afterwards. “He’s just going to finish the job, I figure.”

Tom lifts Jay Dawg high into the air, even higher than before, and releases him to fall completely unprotected to the mat with a second Ego Buster! Jay Dawg lands spiked on his head and falls harmlessly to his back as Flesher drops down, hooks the leg and looks up at the referee! Jim Stine counts

ONE!!!!

TWO!!!!!!!!

THREE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!1

DING DING DING!!!!!!!!

Flesher stands up, wiping the sweat off his brow. His chest heaves as the ref raises his hand and Funyon announces, “Your winner and STILL SWF WORLD CHAMPION, TOM FLESHER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

“Dear god,” says Mark Stevens, “will someone go in there and check Jay Dawg to make sure he’s alright?!”

Even as Stevens says that, Jay Dawg’s eyes flutter shut, then open, and then shut again. He lays still for a moment as “Kashmir” blares throughout the arena, as Tom Flesher wraps the SWF World Title belt around his waist once more. Then, slowly, Jay Dawg sits up.

“Jesus Christ,” says Stevens. “That man is one tough son of a bitch.”

Jay Dawg stays on the ground, shaking off the cobwebs, but still dazed.

“One tough son of a bitch,” echoes Stevens as we fade.

SWF Storm, May 23, 2003

Edited May 24, 2003 by Edwin MacPhisto

May 24, 2003

Tonight's highlights:

A fallen hero suffers a loss but regains his fire. Kibagami goes MMA. MVS...uh...shoots? The world champ gets pushed to the brink...does he hold on?

On a personal note, the tag title match sizzles and required me to read EACH MATCH THREE TIMES YOU BASTARDS OH MY EYES. Read it. The losing team put up an incredible effort and I would love to see a rematch happen sometime in the future. I encourage you to post your match.

I have to edit in one more promo that I missed, and then I'm going to work on a card. IM me at Friar Funk if you have any last minute booking requests.

SWF Storm

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