SMARKDOWN!

[Guest Suicide King]

SWF Smarkdown!

Live from the SOLD-OUT First Union Center in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

 

 

Singles Match

CIA w/"TNT" Taylor Nicholas Thompson v. Tod deKindes

The Canadian Intelligence Agent is back and for his first mission he gets the despicable TdK. But never let it be said that we threw him to the wolves. TNT, who is on a collision course with TdK, will be backing CIA up as his manager for one night only!

 

 

Tag Team Match

Mike Van Siclen & Nathan Kibagami v. Atlas & Janus

13th Hour matches explode!! Can the odd couple of MVS and Nate topple the mighty heelishness of Janus and Atlas? We will see on Monday, and there might not be anything left of them for the PPV.

 

 

Singles Match

Frost v. Ejiro Fasaki

Once more these massive rivals face off, but there is more on the line this time than pride. At 13th Hour, Justice and Rule will defend their precious Tag Team Titles against the intimidating team of Frost & LDP (Chilly Dog?). Whoever pulls off a win here might have a psychological edge going into that match.

 

 

Tag Team Match

"Deathwish" Danny Williams & Dace Night v. Tom "The Superior One" Flesher and Judge "Mental" William Hearford

After losing a #1 contenders match, D&D want to get back on track. And what better way to do it than by challenging the World Champion and one-half of the Tag Champions to a little pre-PPV "warm up"? Any match that has the World, Tag and ICTV belts at ringside is, by definition, a barn burner.

 

 

Triple Threat Elimination Match to determine the #1 Contender to the ICTV Title

Beezel v. Jay Dawg v. Wildchild

Danny demands a challenger at the PPV! And what Danny wants, Danny gets!! Beezel is holding his own against some stiff competition. JD is hoping to get some of the momentum back he had coming out of the last PPV. And WC? Well, sometimes you just have to see if that dog will hunt, as I like to say.

[Guest Suicide King]

Another exciting night of SWF action begins as TV screens across the country fill up with the cheering faces of all the fans packed into the first union center in Philadelphia, on their feet for an exciting night of SWF action. The lights in the arena become dim, and the intro to the Red Hot Chili Pepper’s ‘Can’t Stop’ begins to pound through the arena. The Camera focuses on the stage, small strobe lights flashing up and down its length. As the lights build, the Smarktron displaying three letters, flashing all together along with the lights, the name ‘CIA’ announcing itself to the entire arena. Just as the intro reaches it’s peak, a loud explosion erupts, lights in the arena flaring back to full luminescence in time with the towering columns of pyro emerging from center stage, almost a blinding flash.

 

The brightness fades, leaving a cloud of smoke in the center of the stage through which two men rise, the once familiar face of CIA, and, behind him and to the side, TNT, the former world champion. Beginning to make their way down towards the ring, accompanied by the loud cheers of the fans.

 

“Welcome, fans, to the first match of SWF Smarkdown, a match which is very exciting, showcasing both the return of the Last Carnival member, CIA, as well as the explosive rivalry between former world champion TNT and his long time nemesis, Tod DeKindes. But then again, tonight’s card is packed from Top to bottom, Bobby, getting us ready to roll on into 13th hour!”

 

“I have to agree with you, Marky Mark. Despite your obvious and incorrect bias towards the Canadian and the goof, this should be a great way to kick us off for our great SWF PPV extravaganza, a great way to look at one of our guaranteed match winners, as well as two big losers.”

 

“Now, Bobby, that’s unfair, you can’t pre-predict how those matches will...”

 

“I said one of these men was guaranteed to be a thirteenth hour winner while calling two of them LOSERS. I didn’t say they would lose, just stating my opinion. You know, Mark, when you assume, you make an ass out of me to you.”

 

“You’re exactly right, Riley, and it looks like CIA and TNT are in the ring, conferring in the corner, no doubt discussing strategy for this fight with Dekindes, against whom TNT has a great deal of match experience.”

 

The first bars of ‘O Fortuna’ emerge from the speakers, flowing through the audience and signaling the imminent arrival of DeKindes himself.

 

“Speak of the devil, here comes that sexy Tod DeKindes now, ready to take apart not one, but TWO opponents with his fists of furiousness.”

 

“Fists of…. Bobby, I bet you came up with that all by yourself.”

 

“Yeah, I did. Sounds neat, doesn’t it?”

 

The music switches to the raging beats of Marilyn Manson’s ‘Antichrist Superstar’. DeKindes emerges from the backstage, smirking as he cockily marches to the ring past booing fans, not even turning as a half full pop container bounces off his shoulder and splashes all over the ramp. Sliding in under the bottom rope, he glares across the ring at CIA and TNT in the opposite corner from him. Turning away from the two for a moment, he ascends the turnbuckles and pantomimes a gun against his temple with his left hand, drawing even louder boos from the crowd, holding his position for half a second before leaping back and spinning to land on his feet, facing towards his Canadian foe. TNT takes one last look at DeKindes, pointing at the pseudo German and yelling something before leaping off the ring apron.

 

“And it looks like TNT is having some words with his long time foe, DeKindes.”

 

Riley sneers, glaring in the direction of TNT. “You know, I don’t think it’s fair for DeKindes, having this fool and his bad hair here at Ringside. It would be an easy victory for hima gainst a no-talent who’s been out of the ring for months, but this big, stupid, ugly….. wait a minute, why is he coming over here? Don’t let him hurt me, Mark! I’m too pretty to die!”

 

Riley cowers behind Stevens, and TNT takes a seat by the timekeeper, never glancing in Riley’s direction.

 

“Uh, yeah, Mark, umm… .hold me back, cause my rage won’t let me stand for this kind of injus…. AHH!’

 

TNT glares towards Riley at the announce table, and the ambiguous one jumps behind Stevens again, causing TNT to smile, and Stevens to laugh out loud.

 

“Easy there, you madman. *Snicker* We don’t want anyone getting hurt.”

 

As Riley continues with his ever so amusing antics, Referee Mark Soapdish slides into the ring, looking at both competitors. DeKindes and CIA step forward, and the ‘Canadian Dream’ extends his hand to his opponent for the night. DeKindes smiles and nods, extending his hand and grasping the outstretched hand of CIA…… and pulling him in hard, driving his fist into the masked face of CIA and slamming the Canadian to the mat. Stepping down on CIA’s shoulder, Tod jerks hard on the hand again, wrenching CIA’s arm as Soapdish signals frantically for the bell.

 

*DING DING DING*

 

“What a horrible display by DeKindes! CIA extended his hand, wanting to show his respect for his opponent, and DeKindes takes advantage, flooring CIA with that cheap right hand!”

 

“So CIA did something immensely stupid and DeKindes used the opportunity to hit him with a move that gets used about eight MILLION times every matchup anyway. Excuse me while I call the national enquirer.”

 

“Come on, Riley, it’s terrible Sportsmanship.”

 

”Weakness. That’s another word for Sportsmanship. Just like stupidity, or inadvisable.”

 

Tod twists the arm of CIA, bending and locking the wrist as he continues to jerk the arm, shoulder trapped under his foot. Soapdish begins to kneel down and check on CIA when the Canadian rolls back onto his shoulders, driving his feet straight up into the air, and catching DeKindes on the chin, breaking the hold and sending the pseudo-german to a flat-backed landing, clutching his jaw. Both men lay on the mat for just a moment, and then DeKindes rolls over, beginning to make his way to his feet. CIA still lies, holding his shoulder, and Dekindes comes up to one knee, only to have his Canadian opponent roll back on his shoulders once more, and kip up to his feet, turning swiftly and cracking his foot across the side of Tod’s face, sending him crashing to the mat once more.

 

*SMACK!*

 

The crowd ooohs in sympathy, even for Tod, at the sound of the boot cracking across his face, and CIA wastes no time, reaching down and grabbing hold of Tod’s hair, pulling him up to his feet. Jerking the dazed German backwards once he’s on his feet, CIA pulls his head down and locks his arm around it, cinching in an inverted front facelock, and reaching his hand out to grab hold of the waist of DeKindes tights. Looking out at the crowd for a second, CIA Lurches down, and hefts Tod into the air, till his feet point straight up into the air, the Pseudo-german’s body being held in midair. CIA smiles, looking out to the crowd, and spins halfway around, preparing to drop Tod headfirst into the canvas. Unfortunately, Tod has the presence of mind to jab his fist into CIA’s side as the Canadian spins, and CIA lose his balance, falling backwards. Tod lands on his feet, now holding CIA in an inverted front facelock, and he drops back down to one knee, driving the bone into CIA’s spine. Standing up, Tod repeats this motion, once, twice, three more times, finally falling down to his side, and planting CIA with an inverted DDT, reaching over to hook the Canadian’s leg for the cover.

 

 

ONE!

 

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TW….. KICKOUT!

 

“An impressive counter by Tod Dekindes there, dealing some quick damage to his Canadian foe, but not enough to hold CIA down. If Tod has come to this match underestimating the ‘Canadian Dream’, he’s made a big mistake.”

 

“Always gotta say something bad about Tod, don’t you? He’s just trying to tire out that buffoon CIA, and send a message to TNT. That he’s ready for him, and he’s not gonna let his guard down for a second in that ring. Sexy thinking from a sexy, sexy man.”

 

Ignorant of this disturbing description of him, Tod rises to his feet, zeroing in on CIA’s shoulder. Stomping the arm just below the shoulder, he reaches out and rolls CIA back as the Canadian tries to roll away from the assault. Stepping right down on the arm now, Tod lifts his full body weight up onto the appendage, causing CIA to cry out aloud. Marching right over the leg, Tod makes his way to the corner, mounting the turnbuckles, stopping only to point in TNT’s direction, and smile. TNT stands up from his chair and points back at DeKindes, yelling angrily. Tod merely smiles, lifting himself fully up on the top turnbuckle and turning around to face CIA’s downed form on the mat. Leaping off the turnbuckle, Tod’s body turns to the side and he extends his elbow, preparing to drive his body down into the Canadian’s chest.

 

*WHAM!*

 

Unfortunately, CIA has rolled out of the way, leaving Tod to land on the mat, clearly more than ready for such an assault. Rolling up to his feet, CIA smiles and makes his way up to the top turnbuckle, turning to face the now rising Tod DeKindes. Tod looks up, and as he sees CIA crouch down and begin to push upwards for a leap, he ducks….. And nothing happens. Standing up, Tod sees CIA, who stopped his motion and waited on the top rope, now flying straight towards him, just in time to be taken down by a flying clothesline. The crowd lets out a polite laugh, and CIA rolls up onto his feet, smiling as he points out towards TNT, receiving a nod from the former world champ in return.

 

“That damn Canadian! He’s just showing off now, cause he got lucky against Tod!”

 

“I agree, Riley, that perhaps it’s a bit much, but he managed to outfox DeKindes on that one, and it’s clear to me that Tod made the mistake himself, going to the top rope far too early in this matchup. Like I said, if he underestimates CIA for any reason, he’s going to have real trouble with this match.”

 

“Clearly he just wanted to finish this off early. CIA’s just coming back, and Tod wants to SQUASH him, to prove he should have stayed away in the first place, and in the process, let TNT know he’s more than ready.”

 

“And while I agree he is trying to get under TNT’s skin, that’s taking his focus away from where it should be. On the opponent he’s ACTUALLY wrestling.”

 

Running off to the ropes, CIA rebounds swiftly, leaping off his feet, and coming down atop DeKindes, knees being driven right into his opponent’s chest. DeKindes lets out a loud cry, and CIA comes up to his feet, immediately making a short leap into the air and coming down across the neck of TDK with a legdrop. Spinning his body around, CIA lays across the chest of DeKindes, hooking the leg for a cover and looking up towards referee Mark Soapdish, sliding into place to make the count.

 

ONE!

 

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TWO!

 

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…..KICKOUT!

 

The fans boo as DeKindes kicks out, but CIA moves quickly, coming to his feet and dragging DeKindes to a standing position as well, immediately whipping the pseudo-german off towards the ropes. As TDK bounces back towards CIA, Mark Stevens quickly cuts in.

 

“We’re sorry to do this fans, but we have to take a short moment for a commercial break. We’ll be back right after this, and we’ll continue to recap this great match for all of you.”

 

“Aw, geez. A commercial in the middle of a MATCHUP? What kind of Jackass purchases commercial time in the middle of a show. And gets it run, nonetheless?”

 

CIA slams TDK with a hard clothesline on the rebound, taking him down to the mat once more, as the show fades away, going to a quick commercial break.

 

“Hello, fans. I’m Bobby Riley, here to tell you about my own special ‘BR lubricating jelly’. Great for household tasks, medical use, and especially those akward sexual situations, BR jelly is the only brand approved by the SWF. And if you can’t trust big, sweaty, half naked men to sell you lubricant, who can you trust?”

 

Smiling, Riley is handed a slice of toast with jelly all over it, and he takes a bit, still smiling widely. Standing completely still for a few moments, Riley finally spits out the offending food, and glares at the camera. “What the HELL? It’s not that kind of Jelly! Alright, who wrote this commercial? Ugh, that’s disgusting! Can we do another take?”

 

“We only had enough money for one, sir.”

 

“Damnit, alright, can we edit this out?”

 

“No post production money, sir.”

 

“Umm…… and it’s great on toast, too, fans! That’s right, BR jelly is a viable meal substitute! Mmmm-mmm good!”

 

Returning to Smarkdown, the action in the ring is shown, TNT standing on the ring apron and yelling at the referee, while across the ring TDK has CIA’s arm tied up in the bottom rope, and is steadily planting kicks into the Canadian’s shoulder. TNT continues to argue with Soapdish, while DeKindes only stops kicking long enough to flip the former world champion off, then goes back to assaulting CIA’s shoulder once more.

 

“Welcome back fans, you’ve missed some great action, as CIA had Tod Dekindes on the ropes for a while, but the german, employing a brutally evil cheat, which was conveniently both too evil for me to mention, and not caught on camera for an instant replay, regained control on CIA, and he is now putting the boots to him.”

 

“I’m IMPRESSED with DeKindes. I mean, I’m one of the filthiest cheats there is, and I know I wouldn’t have come upw ith something so daring. Hats off to Tod.”

 

CIA cries out in pain as the assault on his shoulder is continued, and TNT finally gives up, dropping off the ring apron and moving back to his seat next to the announce table. Soapdish turns around and sees DeKindes’ wicked cheating. Quickly rushing over to the Todster, Soapdish tries to get him to stop, but cannot, and begins to count for the DQ.

 

ONE!

 

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TWO!

 

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THREE!

 

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FOUR!

 

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And DeKindes breaks off his assult, just in time to avoid being disqualified, stepping to center ring and raising his arms out to either side of him, absorbing the boos of the crowd as Soapdish moves in to get CIA untangled from the ropes. He finally frees CIA, and steps back, just in time to avoid a rushing Tod Dekindes, who slams his foot into the shoulder of CIA with a running kick, bouncing the masked grappler back against the ropes and down to the mat. Soapdish yells at DeKindes, but the German ignores this and drags CIA to center ring, getting behind the kooky Canadian and sitting him up. Planting a knee in CIA’s back, Dekindes pulls back on both arms of the ‘Canadian Dream’ and looks towards the ref to ask for the submission.

 

Leaning in close, Soapdish asks CIA whether or not he wants to quit, but the Canadian shakes his head, crying out that he won’t give up. Dekindes merely wrenches back harder, causing the Canadian to cry out again. The fans boo this action, but a few begin to clap, slowly, but faster and faster, and a small ‘C-I-A!’ chant breaks out. DeKindes sneers out at the crowd, but CIA begins to move, trying to roll to one side, then the other, with no luck. The chants and cheers only get louder, and CIA begins to lift himself up on his feet, pushing upwards till he is arched back up over DeKindes, the German fighting the pressure, trying not to let go of the hold. Swiftly, CIA moves, flipping up and backwards, so that he lands on his feet just behind the still kneeling DeKindes, driving his knee into the back of Tod’s skull, making him collapse to the mat, before falling over himself, clutching his shoulder in pain.

 

“An amazing counter, as CIA must have put so much pressure on himself trying to get out of that hold, and he escapes just long enough to floor DeKindes. Say what youw ill about technical wrestling, but there’s not much that’s more effective than a knee to the back of the skull.”

 

“Yes, I’ll admit, it was impressive, but CIA had to WRENCH his shoulder on that move, and forcing injury on yourself is not the way to win against Tod DeKindes, a focused, powerful competitor. Nor against Dace Night, for that matter, who has been targeted by this silly buffoon.”

 

“Yes, but CIA is showing that he can still take the punishment just like he always could, and that’s perhaps the only thing that might worry a competitor like Dace Night. Or a physical dissector like DeKindes.”

 

After a few moments, both men begin to stir, CIA rising to a sitting position as Tod pulls himself up to his hands and knees. CIA turns and rises to his feet, and Tod begins to do the same, both men now facing away from each other. Without looking, CIA rushes towards the ropes, bouncing off hard and rushing towards Dekindes, who is holding the back of his head. Dekindes turns, and sees CIA coming, ducking under the Canadian’s clothesline attempt. CIA rushes to the opposite ropes, and rebounds hard, coming straight towards DeKindes, who swings his elbow back hard. CIA ducks under this outstretched joint, and put on the brakes, stopping dead just next to TDK. Tod tries to move away, but CIA reaches up, locking his good left arm around the thrown back arm of TDK, achieving a tight hold on a half nelson. Smiling, CIA raises his other arm in a signal to the crowd, and begins to lace his left leg around Tod’s right.

 

DeKindes, like the fans, knows just what is coming next, and he grabs Mark Soapdish with his free hand, pulling the ref in close just as he throws his right leg back and up, driving it into CIA’s crotch, causing the Canadian to double over in pain and release his hold. The fans erupt in boos at Tod’s escape from the VIA Rail, but the German ignores them and falls to the mat, rolling away to the outside, and laughing a bit as he looks in at CIA, still holding the back of his head. Smiling, TDK turns, and ends up face to face with TNT, former champ wearing an angry scowl. TDK immediately backs away, only to hit the ring apron. Turning towards the ring, he sees CIA crawling towards him, one of the Canadian’s hands slapping down on the bottom rope to pull himself closer.

 

“And DeKindes is in trouble here! Neither TNT nor CIA is very fond of the move Tod just used to escape CIA’s devastating VIA Rail finisher, and it looks like Tod is trapped between a Canadian and an ANGRY place.”

 

“That was a perfectly fair move, Mark!”

 

“What? How do you figure?”

 

“Two reasons. One, the referee didn’t call for a DQ. Two, I wouldn’t mind Tod contacting my genitals in some physical fashion.”

 

As the announcers banter, TDK quickly steps to the side, away from TNT and CIA, turning to keep his eyes on both men. CIA pulls himself up to the ropes, and TNT looks away from Tod for a moment, instead checking to be sure CIA is alright, as is stipulated in his brand new, temporary ‘Be a proper foolish ringside manager’ contract. DeKindes sees his opportunity to take out the man that he has set his sights upon, and he quickly grabs hold of the chair TNT was seated in, folding the steel seating device up and wielding it in both hands. With a smirk on his face, DeKindes rushes forward, swinging the chair out as hard as he can, resulting in an earth shattering….

 

*CRACK~!*

 

… on the skull of CIA, leaning through the ropes, TNT ducking out of the way to one side! The explosive one rushes forward to assault TDK, both men beginning to brawl, as Mark Soapdish signals frantically for the bell.

 

*DING DING DING!*

 

“No! That’s not fair! He wasn’t even TRYING to cheat!”

 

“Nevertheless, Bobby, Tod hit CIA with that steel chair, and, in the process, got himself disqualified. Not that he shouldn’t have been multiple times already!”

 

“But…. But…. CIA can’t win!”

 

“Well, he certainly doesn’t look like a winner. He may be standing tall, Riley, but that may have given CIA a concussion with its force.”

 

“He’s what?”

 

Indeed, CIA is standing tall in the ring, having stumbled to his feet. A trickle of blood leaks down the side of his face from underneath even his thick leather mask, brutal force of the chairshot having done some serious damage to him. As the Canadian looks on, TNT and Tod are separated by ringside officials, and Funyon enters the ring to make the official announcement.

 

“Ladies and gentlemen, your winner, as a result of a disqualification, C! I! A!”

 

The fans let out a large cheer as DeKindes and TNT are ushered down the aisle, and CIA has his hand raised in center ring, though he quickly lowers it again and holds onto his shoulder. Reaching out with his good hand, CIA signals for Funyon’s microphone, and gets it, his music kicking in in the background to signal his victory.

 

“Damn, it’s nice to hear that again!”

 

The fans let out another loud cheer, and CIA smiles, looking into the camera.

 

”Now this REALLY hurts, but hey, I’ve taken the pain before, and I can take it again. CIA is back, and one match nets this Canadian one victory, eh? I said it before, I can’t win every match for the fans, but I can fight for you. And I’ve still got just one thing in my sights. The Hardcore title, eh, and the man who holds it, Dace Night. So let’s hear you answer my challenge, Dace. Hardcore title shot. I don’t care where, or when, but I want it. And I know you’re Horrorcore. You’ve earned that title, and you want that BRUTALITY, eh. Well let’s give some brutality to the fans. As far as the Midnight Carnival goes, I’m the last man standing. So why don’t we step in this ring, and let me try to make it two for two, Night? Me and you, one on one, last man standing for your hardcore title. I want to show you how hardcore I can be. I want a taste of Horrorcore, eh, and one way or another, I plan on getting it!”

 

Throwing his arms up in the air, CIA spins around once in center ring, before falling to his back and rolling outside to the entry ramp, grabbing his team Canada hoodie from a ringside attendant and throwing it on as he marches towards the backstage area, fans applause echoing behind him.

 

“Well, it may be a disqualification, but CIA nets himself a one match back, one win record. And throws out a HELL of a challenge to Dace Night, our reigning hardcore champion! Will we see a response from Night, who will fight tonight along with his tag team partner, ‘Deathwish’ Danny Williams, against our World Champion, Tom Flesher, and his M7 partner, former hardcore and current tag team champion Judge Mental?”

 

“I don’t know, Mark, and despite the injustice to start this night off, that match, and the presence of our glorious world champ, is just one of the ways this night is set to get nothing but better from here.”

 

“That’s right, Riley. That’s later tonight, but up after our next commercial break, we’ve got MVS and Nathan Kibagami taking on Sean Atlus and Janus.”

 

“And don’t forget our main event, where Beezel, Jay Dawg, and the Wildchild will fight to determine the number one contender to that hardcore title! All that and more, tonight, on Smarkdown!’

 

“Stay tuned!’

 

*Cut to commercial….*

[Guest Suicide King]

Inside the SWF Commissioner’s office in the First Union Center, we find the Suicide King seated in a high-back plush leather chair. He is on the phone with his back to the camera.

 

“I’m not interested in your moral objections,” says King into the phone. “You’re under contract to work for me! You’ll what I tell you to do, and to whom, or you can haul ass!”

 

BUZZ!

 

King spins around in his chair and hits the button on his intercom. “What?”

 

“Mr. Applewhite,” says his secretary, “your eight fifteen is here.”

 

King’s lips curl in a sinister sneer. “Send him in.” He then turns his attention back to the telephone. “Listen to me, you little prick. You’ve got until 13th Hour to make your decision. I’ll expect your answer Sunday night!” Without waiting for a response, King hangs the phone up abruptly and places his hands on his desk as his secretary introduces the Wildchild.

 

“You wanted t’ see me,” asks Wildchild.

 

“Ah, yes,” replies King. “Marketing has designed some new merchandise, and I want you to promote it.” He reaches down underneath his desk and pulls out a black t-shirt, which he throws across the room at Wildchild. The cameraman moves to get a full view of the shirt, which the Bahama Bomber unfolds in front of him. On the front is a copy of Wildchild’s face paint design, and on the back are the words, “Take A Walk On De Wild Side,” in broad aquamarine lettering.

 

“Take a walk on de Wild Side,” repeats Wildchild questioningly. “Who writes dis (bleep)?”

 

King ignores him. “Look kid, there’s no secret that I don’t like you. I haven’t liked you since I first saw you, and if I didn’t owe somebody a favor, you never would have made it out of the JL.”

 

King sighs and continues. “However, for some perverted reason, the fans want to see you. You’ve become something of a cult icon here. So, as long as you’re here, you’re going to make me some money!”

 

Wildchild rolls his eyes. “An’ how’m I gonna do that?”

 

“I need you to wear that shirt down to ringside,” replies King. I want the customers to see it on the SmarkTron, so they remember to grab one before they leave the arena. I want the people watching at home to get a good look at them, so they can log on to SWFSwapmeet.com and order one.”

 

The Bahama Bomber tosses the shirt back across the room into King’s face. “Get your own pimp,” he says. “All you’ve done since I’ve been here is try to screw me over. I’m not gon’ shill dis trash for you!”

 

The Gambling Man’s face turns bright red with anger. “Now you listen to me, you damned circus freak,” he roars, “I’ve got you under contract; that means I own your ass! If I tell you you’re going to pimp this shirt, then dammit, you’re gonna pimp the shirt!” With that, he throws the shirt back at Wildchild’s feet.

 

“An’ if I refuse?”

 

King’s eyes darken and his lips curl back into a sneer. “Then you can carry your happy ass back to the Bahamas.”

 

“An’ what do I get if I do dis for you?”

 

King’s sneer changes into an evil grin. “You get to stay employed.”

 

Wildchild locks eyes with Suicide King for a few seconds, before he finally relents, as he bends down and picks up the shirt. As he starts to turn around, King picks up the phone and hits the speed dial to call the Magnificent Seven’s locker room.

 

“Hello,” he asks, as he turns his back to the door, “who is this? Get me Flesher.” As the Commissioner waits for the World Heavyweight Champion to pick up the phone, he glances to the side and nearly jumps out of his seat as he sees Wildchild standing right next to him!

 

King takes a moment to recover, consciously lowering his heart rate, before turning back towards Wildchild. “Are you still here?”

 

“I want a Tag Team Title match for me an’ Johnny after de Pay Per View! You’ve been gaffin’ us off ever since Battleground; Justice an’ Rule never beat us, an’ we ought t’ be next in line for a title shot!”

 

Suicide King is distracted by the sound of a voice barking into the distant end of the telephone. “Huh? Tom? Yeah, I’ll be there in a minute. Hang on.” Turning his attention back to Wildchild, King says, “I tell you what; I want you to go to the SWFZone in Chicago and pimp these shirts during the Pay Per View. Do that, and we’ll talk.”

 

Wildchild looks skeptical. “You tellin’ me dat if I shill dese shirts on Sunday, you’ll give me an’ Johnny a title shot?”

 

King looks Wildchild deep into his eyes. “You sell those shirts for me, and I guarantee, you’ll get what’s coming to you…”

 

Wildchild stares at King with a dismayed look on his face, but finally sighs and leaves the office without a word, t-shirt in hand.

 

“And close the door behind you,” calls King.

 

 

SLAM!

 

 

Wildchild slams the door against its frame, causing a few pictures to fall off the walls in King’s office. He cringes and mutters something under his breath, but eventually turns his attention back to the telephone. “Anyway, Tom, about Sunday…”

 

As We:

FADE OUT

[Guest Suicide King]

We fade in from a random nondescript commercial involving urinal cakes, right into the roaring and cheering crowd that populate the First Union Center! The camera pans the cheering crowd, highlighting signs such as "Break TNT'S Spirit, Tod!" and right next to it "TNT > Tod!". The camera pans around in the direction of the announcing table, and aside from the "I'm With Stupid" and "I'm Here!" signs, the only other one of note is a finely stenciled sign of the M7 demolished with the Boston Strangler standing over them. We then arrive at the announce table with "Grand Slam" Mark Stevens and "Ambigiously Gay" Bobby Riley! Stevens greets the crowd with his usual opening.

 

"Welcome back to SWF Smarkdown, ladies and gents! We just witnessed an incredible matchup between Tod deKindes and the returning CIA!"

 

"And Tod showed that no matter the outcome, he still totally owns anyone he gets in the ring with!"

 

"Maybe, Riley. But up next we have one HELL of a match, with the odd pairing of Mike Van Siclen and Nathaniel Kibagami taking on the tenuous Magnificent Seven duo of Sean Atlas and Janus!"

 

As Riley responds with a "What does THAT mean?” the arena goes completely dark, save for the SmarkTron, where a red ankh surrounded by flames dominates the screen. This prompts the crowd to begin murmuring and looking at the stage, as the entrance becomes colored a dark red hue, matching the Ankh. Slowly, the light begin to rise as “Forty Six and Two” begins.

 

I’ve been crawling on my belly,

Clearing out what could’ve been,

I’ve been wallowing in my own confusing

Insecure delusions

For a piece to cross me over,

Or a word to guide me in…

 

At this point in the song, the lights have risen completely, with an unerring focus on the curtains.

 

I want to feel the changes coming down,

I want to know what I’ve been hiding…

 

Suddenly, there's a loud BOOM as a brilliant explosion of white pyrotechnics momentarily blinds the audience and obscures the top of the ramp. As the pyro fades, the familiar form of Nathaniel Kibagami strides through the smoke, followed by Mike Van Siclen, who cockily poses on the ramp as Kibagami strides down towards the ring, nodding at the occasional fan. Funyon, that loyal git, reads off his cue card to introduce the team.

 

"Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is a TAG TEAM match, scheduled for ONE fall! On their way to the ring, hailing from Harrison, Illinois and Phoenix, Arizona respectively, at a combined weight of five hundred and five pounds...the team of MIKE VAN SICLEN and NATHANIEL KIB-A-GAAAAAAMI!"

 

The crowd cheers as the duo enter the ring - Mike poses cockily for the crowd while Nathan mounts the turnbuckles and hits the familiar crucifix pose as "Forty Six and Two" fades out. The two superstars stop to look at each other and discuss something quietly for a moment, until the arena suddenly goes dark again. The opening notes to "Heaven's a Lie" by Lacuna Coil play through as the First Union Center fills up with jeers. As blinding white light shines through the ramp grating, the images of Sean Atlas on a crucifix shine on the Smarktron, interspersed with flashes of a young man with white hair, whose image is cracking. As the soft notes come to an end, just before the drums kick in, a gradually louder electric guitar brings the first part of the song to a climax as...

 

*BOOOOOM~!*

 

A colossal explosion stuns the crowd as the resulting smoke fills the entrance ramp with a misty haze. Stepping through the smoke are two men - one smaller and masked, one taller and clearly furious. On the Smarktron, Sean Atlas breaks off the crucifix, and it segues into the shattering of Janus being revealed. Then it begins to play clips from both superstars' matches and they walk down the ramp, while blue pyro fountains up from the sides. Funyon rises to his feet to make the announcement.

 

"And their opponents, at a combined weight of five hundred and ninety five pounds... From Chicago, Illinois and Sydney, Australia... They are the combined team of Sean ATLASSS and JAAAAAAANUSSSSSS!"

 

The crowd boos heartily for the two men, who enter the ring by sliding under the bottom rope and stepping over the top respectively, and both Nathan and Mike leave the squared circle. Janus thrusts his hands into the air, prompting blue fire to explode from the turnbuckles - an impressive conclusion to the combined entrance between himself and Atlas! The seven foot Hell Machine glowers over the ropes at Nathan, and turns to Sean. On the outside, Nathan and MVS discuss their own team’s matters.

 

"Seems like both teams are trying to decide who starts off this match. Van Siclen has irritated Atlas over the course of the past few weeks, so perhaps the two of them would kick this off. Then again, Janus wants Nathan, but he's no stranger to Mike Van Siclen's ability" Stevens comments.

 

"Yeah, meanwhile the cowards here on the outside are trying to plan a way to keep Nathan from Janus' clutches!" Riley snorts at the 'cowardice', and referee Eddy Long calls for them to take their positions. After a pointed poke at Atlas' chest and a look at Nathan, the Hell Machine steps to the outside and waits as Mike Van Siclen slides into the ring.

 

“And with that, the match is underway!” declares Grand Slam

 

DING-DING-DING!

 

Atlas wastes no time before charging at the Spectacle for a lariat, energized at the thought of attacking Van Siclen... But Mike slips aside and puts on a rear waistlock. Blocking the German suplex attempt, Sean jolts an elbow back into Siclen's head and reverses the waistlock into one of his own! Heaving back, the masked man finds that Siclen is keeping his balance, and abruptly lets his waist go and drops down for a rear leg takedown...

 

But MVS steps away, escaping the trick takedown maneuver. Mike sprints forward and hits the ropes, coming back only to have Atlas leapfrog over him and land smoothly on the mat. Again, Siclen turns his back to bounce off the ropes, but jerks suddenly as Janus slams a beefy arm into the back of his head. The Spectacular One stumbles forward, holding his aching cranium... but receives no sympathy as Atlas strikes his head with a Superkick!

 

"Very quick start here by these two. They both went for Germans, both evaded, and Janus made his presence felt by clubbing Mike Van Siclen in the back of the head!" Stevens calls.

 

"And on top of that, Sean took distinct advantage with a NICE superkick!" Riley gloats.

 

Rather than pin Siclen this early in the match, the masked man drags him back to his feet, and unloads a stiff chop right into his chest! Despite the antipathy for both Atlas and his partner, the fans participate in the obligatory chant...

 

"WHOOOOOOOO!"

 

Siclen reels back from the sharp impact...

 

*SMACK* "WHOOOOOOO!"

 

Another sharp chop sends the Spectacle stumbling back again!

 

*SMACK!* "WHOOOOOOOO!"

 

Siclen rests against the ropes, and Atlas lands a fourth, decisive *SMACK* across his chest!

 

"WHOOOOOOOO!"

 

Rather than leave Mike on the ropes, Sean take shis hand and whips him towards the opposite side... But he hold on, in order to snap MVS right back to him. However, Mike’s seen this before, and takes advantage by reversing it into an Irish whip of his own! Sean is sent to the ropes himself and springs off, then lowers his shoulder as he returns to the other side where Van Siclen stand... But Mike has a gameplan in mind and takes out Atlas' legs with a drop-toe-hold, sending the masked man throat first across the middle rope!

 

Gasping, Atlas grabs his neck as he pulls away from the rope, trying to restore his wind while recovering... but behind him is Mike Van Siclen, up after dropping Sean onto the rope, and he takes Atlas’ hands away from his neck, grosses his Sean’s around his own neck... then DROPS him to the mat with a Crossface Halo!!

 

"Atlas had full control of this match until Van Siclen reversed the Irish whip. It seems like taking an impact with the ropes using your neck isn’t such a good idea, as it left Atlas vulnerable for the Crossface Halo." Stevens chortles.

 

"Bah! It's still the early going in the match, Stevens." Riley mutters as Mike rolls his opponent over for the first pin of the match!

 

 

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

 

 

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

 

 

Atlas kicks out of the cover, possibly grimacing under his mask. As MVS drags him up, the masked man reaches towards his corner, barely in arm's reach of Janus... but gets pulled away! Across the ring, Nathaniel Kibagami leans on the ropes and calls to Van Siclen while smirking at Janus. With the Hell Machine distracted, Mike pulls Atlas away from his corner and shoots him off with an Irish whip that propels him chest first into the turnbuckles before Kibagami! Stumbling out of the corner, Atlas feels arms reaching around his waist as Mike lifts him back for a German...

 

...but Atlas manages to flip out of it and land behind his opponent! He clubs Van Siclen in the back of the neck and quickly puts on a Half Nelson on Mike’s left arm and a Chickenwing on his right. The elaborate setup can signal only one thing – the Tequila Sunrise! To the crowd’s loathing, Atlas lifts Van Siclen off his feet....

 

But he too escapes! The chickenwing was not held tightly enough, allowing MVS to evade the punishing Tequila Sunrise! The Half Nelson, however, is still locked in, which Mike takes advantage of by spinning around behind Sean, holding onto his arm to wrap it around his neck. He then turns his back to the masked adversary and with the arm in his clutches, DROPS down to the mat, taking Atlas down with him using a Blackjack Nechbreaker!!!

 

“What a series of reversals!” yells Stevens. “Oddly enough, Sean Atlas uses that same maneuver, except he calls it the Immaculate Neckbreaker.”

 

“What’s so immaculate about it?” Riley asks. “Did it... not have sex, or something?”

 

“Immaculate means it’s flawless, you imbecile. Spotless, near as a pin, perfectly executed, etc.” answers Grand Slam.

 

“So what you’re saying is, when Jesus was conceived God’s ‘performance’ was... Ooohhh, no wonder Atlas goes against all of this.” Riley ponders...

 

Meanwhile, back in the ring, Mike Van Siclen springs back to his feet. Satisfied with his dominance of Sean Atlas, he looks between the fallen masked maniac and the fuming Hell Machine, then looks to his partner and holds out his hand...

 

*SLAP!*

 

"Mike's tagged Kibagami in! And look at Janus!" Stevens roars.

 

The giant, upon seeing the tag to Nathan, instantly tries to climb into the ring, but Eddy Long stops him and orders him to stay in his corner. With the referee distracted, Mike and Nathan lift Atlas to his feet and whip him into the ropes. Siclen drops to the ground and locks Atlas' legs up in a drop toe hold...and as the masked man falls, his face meets a STIFF lariat from Nathaniel that makes his body twist about and fall to the mat, twitching.

 

"BURRRRRRRRRRNING LAAAAAAAARRRRRIAT!" Stevens hollers on instinct.

 

Janus finally returns to the apron, and Eddy Long turns around as Mike leaves the ring to let Kibagami go to work on Atlas.

 

"Dastardly cheaters. Look what they did to poor Atlas!" Riley scowls.

 

"And would it be cheating if Janus and Atlas did it?" Stevens smiles.

 

With Atlas prone on the canvas, Nathan shoots a grin at Janus, the simple glance causing the giant to try entering the ring once more. But again, Eddy Long stands in his way, trying to hold back a man twice his size. But behind him and out of view, Sean Atlas takes advantage of Long’s position and sits up, then PUMMELS Nathan Kibagami directly in the groin! Nathan doubles over as Janus backs off, smiling at the wonderful sight. Quickly, Sean Atlas reaches through his legs and knocks Nathan over with an Inside Cradle, pinning his shoulders to the mat.....

 

 

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

 

 

 

 

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

 

 

 

 

NO! Kibagami gets the shoulder up!

 

 

“Desperate tactics from Sean Atlas and company.” Notes Stevens.

 

“Considering how much of an undeserving win Nathan got over him last week, I think Sean is completely justified.” Riley replies.

 

 

Nathaniel sprawls on the floor, holding his groin. Atlas gasps and silently curses himself for not getting the win right then and there. He sees Van Siclen leaning over the top rope, extending a hand to his partner. On the near side, Janus’ large arm is extended as well, desperately reaching out to the masked Atlas. Already work out from his exchange with Van Siclen, Atlas crawls over to the big man and extends his hand to tag Janus in...

 

...and feels a pair of hands on his boot! Turning his head, Atlas can see Kibagami holding onto his leg, preventing him from crawling that extra distance to tag in Janus! On the face of the man formerly known as Silent is an intense look as he tries to pull Atlas back... but receives a brutal kick to the jaw! Forced to release Atlas, Nathaniel scrambles back up as...

 

*SLAP!*

 

"RRRAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRR!"

 

The crowd suddenly cheers for Janus as he steps over the top rope forcing Kibagami to find his feet again. It turns out the cheers weren’t for the giant, but instead were for the confrontation of Janus and Nathaniel Kibagami. Neither man moves as Janus glowers at his opponent while Nathan, slightly pained by Atlas' low blow but otherwise calmly intense, backs away very slowly.

 

"Look at these two, Riley. They're just staring HOLES through each other." Stevens marvels.

 

"Janus will show Kibagami what for-...what hope does an ex-Clannie have against the Hell Machine?" Riley snorts.

 

"They're schedule to fight it out at 13th Hour...which is just a week away! We’re about to see a preview of that right here, right now!"

 

Janus lifts his arms into the air, as if daring Nathan to meet his challenge. With a focused stare on his face, Nathaniel Kibagami lifts his arms in the air as well, and both men lock up in a close collar-and-elbow tieup! Before he can use his impressive force to his advantage, Janus is stunned as Nathan promptly begins to slam his knees into the giant's abdomen. Winded by the sudden impact, the Hell Machine loosens his grip, and Nathan hooks the giant's head and swings his leg out, driving Janus headfirst into the mat with a judo-style DDT!

 

Rolling away from the giant, Nathaniel climbs to his feet with a smirk and...

 

*SLAP!*

 

...tags Mike Van Siclen back in! Janus pushes himself up off the canvas, red eyes spotting Nathan on the apron and Mike coming towards him, and he snarls in a bestial fashion, rising to his feet and lunging forward, swinging up an immense boot that floors the approaching Spectacle!

 

"Hah! Take that, Mikey! Your cowardly partner tagged out to get away from Janus!" Riley crows.

 

"Janus and the Spectacular One are NO strangers to each other. They fought over the SJL World Title, culminating in the Iron Australian Knockout Challenge at From the Fire. They know one another very well..."

 

Which is proven true as Janus throws himself into the air to crush Mike's larynx with a standing legdrop, but he meets nothing but canvas as Siclen rolls out of the way! The giant just glowers at his opponent and switches his glare to the resting Kibagami, who smirks and waves.

 

"...but Mike isn't Janus' concern." finishes the baseball-loving announcer. Siclen takes advantage of the now-seated Janus, hitting the ropes and coming back, slamming a dropkick into the giant's face! Janus falls flat on his back and the Spectacular One instantly makes a cover!

 

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

 

 

 

 

...T...W......... NO! Janus bench presses Van Siclen off him and sits up again, scowling.

 

Rising to his feet, the Hell Machine drags Mike with him and hoists him up onto his shoulders in what looks like a fireman's carry! The Spectacle tries to wriggle free, but Janus falls sideways, driving his opponent's skull into the canvas with a DVD!

 

"Death Valley Driver!" calls Stevens.

 

"Saint's Demise!" yells Riley.

 

"Actually, I think Atlas jumps before he drops them..."

 

"Whatever, Mark. It’s a preview of what MVS will see on Sunday"

 

With Siclen clutching his skull on the canvas, Janus storms over to his corner and tags the somewhat recovered Atlas back in. Rather than stand on the apron however, the Hell Machine drops to the floor and begins to slowly walk around the ring. Atlas stalks around the rising Siclen, and as the dazed Spectacular One reaches his feet again, he finds his chest hooked, his leg swept out from under him, and his skull CRATERED yet again into the canvas with a stiff STO! Atlas goes for a cover...

 

...but Eddy Long has slid out of the ring and is telling Janus to get back to his corner! Halfway around the ring, the giant steps past the referee and continues on his path, and Nathaniel jumps off the apron and steps away cautiously, keeping the ring corner between himself and the monster at all times.

 

"Uh oh, this could get ugly, Riley..." Stevens murmurs.

 

"Get back in the ring, Eddy! Atlas has a pinfall, dammit!" Riley calls.

 

Seeing the Hell Machine is not stopping, Nathan dives into the ring! Eddy Long slides in to stop the ex-Clannite, but he charges the ropes and swings his legs through them, slamming both feet into Janus' face with a Misawa-esque dropkick! Still clutching the ropes, Kibagami skins the cat back into the ring...as Atlas drops Mike to the canvas and lunges at the man formerly known as Silent, wrapping arms around his neck in the Katahajime Choke and pulling him away from the ropes!

 

"KATAHAJIME CHOKE ON NATHAN! THAT CAN'T BE GOOD FOR HIS NECK!" Stevens roars.

 

"Kill him, Atlas! Leave something for Janus, but finish off what you started on Lockdown!" Riley squeals.

 

The crowd begins a "Let's Go, Nathan!" chant as he cries out in pain, clutching at the chokehold and swinging an elbow back at Atlas' head. Recovering on the outside, Janus also makes his entrance into the ring as Eddy Long tries to break up the submission on the non-legal man. But he doesn't have to, as Van Siclen grabs onto Atlas from the side, lifts him into the air and away from Nathan then slams him on the mat with a Backdrop Suplex! Nathan stumbles away, clutching at his throat, and Atlas rolls over onto his belly and slowly makes his way up...

 

The situation gets even worse as Janus rebounds off the ropes and charges towards the mess of people with his shoulder lowered for a Gore! Nathan sees the incoming giant and throws himself to the side of his path, avoiding a collision with a 350 pound monster... Unfortunately, standing right behind the stumbling ex-Clannite is Mike Van Siclen....

 

...who crumples into a folded heap on the ground as Janus slams into him with a tremendous Gore!!! The crowd jeers the spectacle in the ring as Janus rises to his full height, noticing that it was the MVS who he so viciously took down. Atlas lifts his eyes as he stands up, Nathan also rising to his feet.

 

"I don’t understand, Mark, who are the legal men?”

 

“Well, Sean Atlas never tagged Janus is, and Kibagami just came into the ring on his own. So that makes it Sean and... “ responds Grand Slam.

 

“...Van Siclen.” Riley finishes.

 

“Uh oh.”

 

 

Realizing what the announcers just concluded, Atlas prepares to jet over to Mike and cover him, but the angry Hell Machine, Janus gets in his way, throwing his arms around Kibagami from behind. He lifts Nathan off his feet, moves his leg into strategic position, and directly in front of the referee...

 

...Drops Kibagami onto his knee with an Inverted Atomic Drop! The crowd feels Nathan’s pain as he hobbles around, trying to find a comfortable way to soothe his aching coccyx. He inadvertently stumbles all the way to the ropes, however which gives Janus the opportunity he was looking for:

 

 

*SMACK*

 

 

“BIG BOOT TO THE FACE!” yells an ecstatic Bobby Riley. “Janus takes Kibagami over the top rope and out of the ring! While Atlas finally covers Van Siclen!”

 

 

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

 

 

 

 

 

 

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

 

 

 

 

...T...H...R......NO! Mike Van Siclen gets a shoulder up!

 

 

“Dammit!” Riley complains.

 

“Too much time passed since Janus’ gore, Bobby.” notes Grand Slam.

 

“But what about the DVD?” asks Riley. “And everything else Janus did. Does MVS really have that much vitality?”

 

“YES!”

 

After counting the near-fall, Eddy Long quickly shifts over to Janus, stopping him from leaving the ring to further punishing Nathan. Finally satisfied with his work for the time being, Janus obliges and steps back into his own corner. Meanwhile, Sean Atlas makes his way up to his feet, dragging Van Siclen along with him.

 

Sean steps to his side and maneuvers his foot through Mike’s legs, setting him up for a Russian Leg Sweep. He extends his arm across Van Siclen’s back, preparing to take him down when Van Siclen lifts his leg, pulls it back, and drives it into the lower back of Sean Atlas!

 

The impact stuns the masked man as he loosens his grip, allowing MVS to meet him face to face and grab him around the head. Then, using the move that requires the least amount of strength, Van Siclen allows gravity to do the work and takes Atlas down with a Sitout Jawbreaker!

 

 

“Looks like Mike’s taking an offensive stand here, Riley.”

 

“What in the hell is an offensive stand?”

 

“An expression, nitwit.”

 

“Ok, what’s a nitwit?”

 

“You.”

 

“Alright, what am I?”

 

“A total fruitcake.”

 

As Atlas falls to the mat clutching his jaw, Siclen springs up to his feet and grabs both the masked man's legs, taking them apart with a wishbone leg-splitter that makes the crowd and the announcers wince in pain! Atlas clutches at his pelvis, grimacing in pain, and Mike pulls him up before whipping him into the ropes...

 

..and when Atlas comes back, he finds himself scooped up and lifted around in a quick and dirty looking powerslam! Hooking the leg, Mike yells at the referee to count!

 

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

 

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

 

Before the three, Atlas thrusts his shoulder up! Frowning, Mike rises off his opponent and lays a few stiff, firm stomps into his stomach! Rather than continue the assault, heads across the apron to tag in his partner, the fresh Nathaniel Kibagami! Slipping into the ring like a shadow, the ex-Clannite circles around Atlas as the masked one pushes himself up to one knee. He lifts his head in time to see Nathaniel spring up onto his lifted knee...and crack the side of the Magnificent Seven member's head with a Shining Wizard!

 

"SHINING WIZARD~!" Stevens calls.

 

"Nooo! Atlas! Get up!"

 

Before Nathan can make a cover however, his attention is drawn to the seven foot Hell Machine trying once more to enter the ring - he's being blocked by Eddy Long. Hitting the opposite ropes, Nathan takes aim with a deadly yakuza kick...that Janus catches with both hands after pushing Long aside! Kibagami and Janus lock eyes with each other. With one leg held high in the air, Nathaniel sees only one option...

 

...and springs off the ground, flipping his leg around to crack Janus in the side of the head with what would have been a gamengiri if his leg hadn't been held! Janus releases the ex-Clannite and falls off the apron, landing on his feet and rubbing his head as Nathan finds his balance again and turns around. Atlas, ready and waiting, takes Nathan straight off his feet with a sweep spinebuster!

 

"And Atlas is up! The shining wizard put him down, but Janus bought him time with his hatred for Kibgami!"

 

"Now this match is over! Atlas will win, you just watch!"

 

Rather than pin Kibagami as he's so close to the ropes, Atlas whips Nathan across the ring! As the ex-Clannite comes back, he lifts an arm for a burning lariat...and the masked man ducks! He continues to crouch on the rebound, rising and nailing a beautiful looking superkick to Kibagami's chin that makes him reel, clutching his jaw. Grinning under his mask, Atlas grabs Nathan by the arm and makes to irish whip him across the ring...

 

...but doesn't let go, making Kibagami swing back around towards Atlas! The masked man then uses the momentum to swing Nathan up into a fireman's carry, in perfect position for the...

 

 

“Saint’s Demise!!!” yells Riley. “He’s setting Nathan up for the Saint’s Demise!”

 

Cradling Kibagami’s neck in one arm and his legs in the other, Sean Atlas begins his routine rotation before he executes the move. Turning away from one side of the First Union Center, Atlas’ gaze passes an eager Janus, sweeps over the enormous SmarkTron, then around to another side of the arena and onto a running Mike Van Siclen...

 

Wait. Running...?

 

 

“Here comes MVS to save the day!!!”

 

Van Siclen charges in, lowering his shoulder as he gets closer to the masked man. In reaction, Atlas backs away, slowly moving closer to Janus in his corner as Mike reaches him and PLOWS directly into Atlas chest with a shoulder tackle! Sean tilts back, his balance affected by the large man resting on his shoulders...

 

But he’s caught! Suddenly, Atlas notices the pressure ease off, as if the weight of the world has been lifted from his shoulders. He softly falls into the ropes, with no opponent across his back, only a desperate one in front of him. He turns around, and sees exactly what happened...

 

 

“What a pass!” yells Riley.

 

“It seems that Janus caught Kibagami off Atlas’ shoulders and prevented them both from falling. But not Nathan is in even more danger, sitting on top of Janus who remains on the apron!”

 

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Riley asks.

 

“Definitely not, Bobbie. I’m thinking Janus is about to finish Nathan off for Atlas!”

 

 

Janus plants his feet square on the mat and secures the body of Nathaniel Kibagami on top of his shoulders. Atlas looks on, knowing exactly what Janus is about to pull off and immediately clears the way for him. He takes Van Siclen by the hand and spins him around, nearly taking MVS in an entire rotation before flinging him over the top rope to ringside! Meanwhile, Janus lets out a thunderous growl as he latches on to Kibagami with his hands, lifts him off his shoulders....

 

AND DRIVES HIM INTO THE CANVAS WITH A DARK BOMB FROM THE APRON!!!

 

 

“MY GOD! That CANNOT be good for his neck!!!” yells Stevens.

 

“But it’s good for Janus! And what’s good for Janus is good for Atlas, who’s about to finish this off once and for all!”

 

 

Sean takes Nathan by the hand and drags him over into the middle of the ring. Wise enough to realize the chance of him placing his foot on the ropes, he gets enough distance between Nathan and the edge of the ring before preparing to pin him...

 

But Mike Van Siclen jumps back up on the apron, just as Atlas hooks Kibagami’s leg!

 

 

 

 

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

 

 

 

 

He makes it through the middle rope....

 

 

 

 

 

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

 

 

 

 

But Janus’ enormous palm makes its way around Van Siclen’s neck...

 

 

 

 

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

 

 

 

 

AND CRUSHES MVS INTO THE FLOOR OF THE ARENA, DESTROYING HIM WITH A CHOKESLAM!

 

 

DING-DING-DING!

 

 

“They win it!” yells an ecstatic Riley. “Sean Atlas gets his win back over Kibagami and The Magnificent Seven has yet another winning combination!”

 

“Jesus Christ, is Van Siclen alright out there?? He was just Chokeslammed on the outside!” Stevens asks.

 

“I don’t know where Jesus is, but as far as –I- can tell, Van Siclen’s out for the count too.” Replies Riley.

 

 

Funyon announces the victors. “The winners of this match... SEAN ATLAS and JAAANNNUUUUUSSSS!!!”

 

 

“How will these men fare in their bouts at 13th Hour? Will Sean Atlas dominate over Mike Van Siclen, as he promises to? Or can The Spectacle pull out a surprise victory?” yells Stevens.

 

“And in their encounter, will Janus quell that anger inside him by defeating Nathaniel Kibagami? Or can the experienced veteran overpower the man who no one else has?” Riley asks.

 

“All this and more coming your way on Sunday at 13th Hour! But coming up next, we’ve got a historic encounter between Frost and One half of the Tag Team Champions, Magnificent Seven member Ejiro Fasaki! Stay tuned!”

 

The last thing seen before the cameras cut to commercial is Janus glowering down on the prone form of Nathaniel Kibagami..

[Guest Suicide King]

As SWF Smarkdown comes back into the First Union Center in Philadelphia...

 

“BOOM-BOOM BOOM... BOOM...”

 

The lights totally cut out, the crowd begins to boo like crazy, and the announcers just shut up for a sec. Strobe lights pulse to the beat of the guitar in the background as Audioslave’s “Cochise” kicks in, smoke spewing from vents in front of the entrance as the drums cue in 24 seconds into the song. This is when golden waterfalls of pyro similar begin flowing from the top of the SmarkTron and the crowd really begins to raise their boos louder. A huge pyro blast kicks up from the front of the stage at the guitar drop, about 50 seconds into the song, strobes still going.

 

“Laides and gentlemen, welcome back to SWF Smarkdown!” Mark Stevens screams over the Philly boo birds. “It looks like our US Champion is headed out to the ring for who knows what reason!”

 

Suddenly, as Chris Cornell begins to sing, a spotlight shines down on Michael Craven, standing on stage, 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 flexing as the crowd begins to boo so loud, it hurts. His two belt girls follow him down the ramp, Craven not taking time to pose with them tonight as he reaches back, and unhitching the title from his waist, hands it off to one of the women to carry down for him while he walks down the ramp in a half-strut as Funyon begins to speak...

 

“Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome the S-W-F US CHAMPION...”

 

BOOOOOOOOOOO!!!

 

“...MICHAEL CRAAAAAAVEN!!!”

 

 

Walking down to the ring, he walks by a group of fans with Craven signs, surrounded by security. They cheer him on, and Craven actually reaches out, shaking some of their hands. They smile happily as he walks to the ring and hops up onto the apron. He enters the ring by hopping over the top rope, landing on his feet. He climbs the turnbuckle closest to the crowd, points to himself, and then does a Steiner-like flex with his biceps, smiling as the crowd continues to boo him. Mike then hops off the turnbuckle, walks across the ring to another turnbuckle, climbs this, and repeats the whole thing, hopping off the turnbuckle as he grabs the microphone.

 

“It’ll be 49 days straight he’s held that title at 13th Hour, and I don’t think he’ll relinquish it anytime soon!!!” Riley chimes in as the music fades out, Craven bringing the mic to his lips. He smiles as he begins to speak.

 

“PHILADELPHIA! What a city. Home to Rocky Balboa! The Philly Cheese Steak! And the federation I spent a few months in many years ago... ECW-”

 

The crowd cuts him off, jumping into an electrified “E-C-DUB!” chant that lasts for almost 30 seconds before he brings his hand up and silences the rowdy crowd.

 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa! I’m not done! We’ve still got to talk about the great sports teams! The Sixers, the team of the legendary Julius Erving! Or the Flyers, with the Legion of Doom, and more importantly, Eric Lindros! Or the Eagles, with that wild and craaaaazy offense! Or the Phillies, including hall of famer Mike Schmidt!”

 

“What a suck up...” Stevens comments as Craven pauses for a moment.

 

“Now let’s see... hmmmm...”

 

Craven goes into thinking mode and quickly comes up with something while the crowd sits in silence.

 

“Well, Rocky is a movie character that retired almost 20 years ago... ECW is dead... Mike Schmidt retired, and so did Dr. J... Lindros left you people, which was the best move of his career...”

 

 

BOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!

 

 

The crowd answers back loudly, but he continues anyway.

 

“The Sixers choked in the playoffs, and so did the Eagles and Flyers... the Phillies still suck... and to be quite honest, Philly Cheese Steaks are the worst thing I’ve ever tasted...”

 

The crowd almost riots at that comment, not taking too lightly to the insult.

 

 

YOU SUCK DICK! *clap clap clapclapclap*

YOU SUCK DICK! *clap clap clapclapclap*

 

 

“That’s not funny you idiots,” spits out an irate Mike Craven before calming down. “Like I was saying, Philly Cheese Steaks are the worst thing I’ve ever tasted… so I guess that means the only thing you people have to live for... is me.”

 

The crowd boos loudly, Craven looking befuddled.

 

“Hey, I’m your champion! You should respect me a little better. But now, onto my first topic. Over there,” Craven says as he points to the fans he was reacting with before, “you will notice a section of the crowd, guarded by security, separated from you pieces of trailer park trash.”

 

The crowd boos Craven again, but before they can silence him, he speaks.

 

“They’re special, folks. They’re the Philadelphia branch of the Michael Craven Fan Club!”

 

“The Nightmare has a fan club?” Riley wonders. “Why didn’t he tell me about it?”

 

“There’s probably some anti-gay rule,” Mark retorts.

 

“And so, without further adieu...” The Nightmare continues, “I give to you... THE CRAVEN SECTION!!!”

 

The fans in the Craven Section go nuts, and Craven flashes them a smile and thumbs up, which they reciprocate! The rest of the SWF fans in the First Union Center show what the rest of the world thinks of the Craven Sections’ hero…

 

 

CRAAA-VEN SUCKS! CRAAA-VEN SUCKS!!

CRAAA-VEN SUCKS~! CRAAA-VEN SUCKS~!!

CRAAA-VEN SUCKS! CRAAA-VEN SUCKS!!

 

 

“MIKE DOESN’T SUCK! YOU SUCK!” is the response from one Craven Section member. Then the Craven section starts up a strong “Craven” chant, which causes the Philly crowd to rain down upon them with assorted food packages and plastic beer bottles.

 

“Oh come on. You’re just jealous because people know that I’m the greatest champion to ever step foot inside Philadelphia outside of Suicide King-”

 

WE WANT MAK!” *clap clap clapclapclap*

WE WANT MAK!” *clap clap clapclapclap*

WE WANT MAK!” *clap clap clapclapclap*

WE WANT MAK!” *clap clap clapclapclap*

 

“Wait a second... you want Mak? Mak Francis? The Franchise?”

 

The crowd cheers loudly, a “FRANCHISE!” chant stilling up in the crowd, but it dies down as Craven hits them with the truth, pointing towards a section of the front row, where said man has been sitting since the beginning of the show.

 

“You want him!? Mak Francis’ career is over. I put that cripple out of his misery. Yeah, I see you… and you know I did it too! You are no longer a wrestler. You are a normal, common, ordinary person now… no, actually you’re below that and do you people know why?”

 

“It’s because I made him that. Mak Francis simply can’t handle The Nightmare. He can’t handle Michael Craven, the man who is superior to him in every way. He’s a better amateur wrestler, a stronger, faster, tougher man, than he will ever be, and quite frankly every man in America wants to be like him!”

 

The crowd roars in boos as Craven smiles in the ring. The twenty thousand faithful follow up with another chant for the hometown hero.

 

LET’S GO MAAAAAK! LET’S GO! *clap clap*

LET’S GO MAAAAAK! LET’S GO! *clap clap*

LET’S GO MAAAAAK! LET’S GO! *clap clap*

LET’S GO MAAAAAK! LET’S GO! *clap clap*

 

“That’s right, Mak. I’m looking right at you cripple. Oh, you used to be a good amateur wrestler... but I was better. I STILL am better. And I will FOREVER be BETTER than YOU! Hell, I’m happy you got somebody to push your crippled little BUTT out of the front door, to hop on the Jabroniville Express and ride on down to the arena. The only thing missing is for you to drag your sorry ass into this ring, so I could kick it all over Pennsylvania!”

 

FRAN-CHISE! *BOOM BOOM* FRAN-CHISE! *BOOM BOOM*

FRAN-CHISE! *BOOM BOOM* FRAN-CHISE! *BOOM BOOM*

 

The crowd continues to chant, but their bubble is suddenly burst…

 

“But you can’t, can you Mak, because the only thing you’re fit for now… is to shine my boots before I go out into battle-”

 

 

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!1!1

 

 

And finally after much prompting from the crowd, taunting from Craven, with anger in his eyes and a fire in his belly, “The Franchise” stands…

 

YEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!!!1!1

 

The woman beside Francis tries to get him to sit back down, practically yelling at him to stop as he asks security to step aside. The girl grabs his arm, holding him in place for a second, causing him to look her in the eyes.

 

“You’re doing him a favor honey. He don’t want none of this!” Shouts Craven, motioning to himself.

 

"That girl is doing him a favor, you know." comments Riley.

 

"Oh, thats great for Craven. Picking a fight with a man that can't go in the ring. What a human being." adds Stevens.

 

They stand there as the crowd continues to rise, hoping against hope for this to go down. Hazel eyes meet brown, each just as fierce as the other, neither backing down. A conversation between eyes tells the tale, as they stand there, the crowd still chanting, Craven still berating him and yet neither can drop the gaze.

 

“Marie” is said in a whisper and her eyes soften, almost pleading with him not to continue…

 

But after what seems like an eternity the woman falters -- her gaze cast to the off to the side and down, not able to watch, or understand why, as Mak steps over the barricade!! Using the aid of a crutch, Mak makes his way towards the ring!

 

 

 

FRAN-CHISE! *BOOM BOOM* FRAN-CHISE! *BOOM BOOM*

FRAN-CHISE! *BOOM BOOM* FRAN-CHISE! *BOOM BOOM*

 

 

 

Francis makes his way up the steps, slowly but surely, readjusting the tan ace wrap bandage protecting his left knee, before entering through the ropes.

 

“KICK HIS ASS, MAK!” shouts one overzealous fan out of nowhere! Francis smirks at the statement and continues on his way to the center of the ring where Craven stands. Mak moves in close – the gentle thump of his crutch coming into contact with the canvas can be heard as the crowd quiets. The men have a pretty noticable distance in between them though, as Francis motions for Craven to hand him the mic, but Mike will have none of that and waves him off. The Franchise turns and asks for a mic and the ring announcer quickly tosses one his way. Mak quickly locks eyes with Mike and starts to speak…

 

“Now that I’m standing right here, ASH, why don’t you say all that to my face!”

 

At the mention of his former gimmick the Nightmare scowls, hisa face turning red in anger. “If you could go for the PPV I’d beat your ass until you had nightmares of getting back into any ring, let alone one with me in it!”

 

Craven walks closer to Francis “But the only thing you’re fit for now… is to shine… MY… BOO-”

 

Suddenly Mike kicks Mak’s crutch from under him, obviously to make Francis fall to the ground and humiliate him – but, as the crutch falls to the ground, Francis stands tall, microphone still in hand to the shock and amazement of the crowd and his adversary.

 

"What the hell?! He's standing up... without the crutch?!" states Stevens.

 

“I guess this means I can still go huh- *pzzzzzt*”

 

Mak quickly drops the mic and fires off a right hand to the face that stuns Michael for a second, forcing him to drop his mic, but he responds back with a right hand of his own and now the two are trading punches in the center of the ring! Right hand on right hand, neither man giving an inch, but Craven takes a little too much time going for a right, which Francis blocks, leaving Mike wide opponent for a counter attack!! Craven takes the shot to the head and swings away again, but the Franchise blocks and lays into the side of his head with another right, this one staggering the bigger man!! Mak, now with the advantage slugs away with right hands backing the Nightmare up with each strike!!!

 

“RIGHT HANDS, RIGHT HANDS, RIGHT HANDS, BY MAK FRANCIS!! CRAVEN IS STAGGERING!!” shouts Grand Slam over the roar of the crowd!!

 

The Franchise backs Craven up into the corner and wallops him with a scintillating knife-edge chop!!

 

WHOOOOOOOO~!!

 

Craven attempts to cover up, but Francis peels his hands away from his chest and lays waste to a few more of Mike’s blood vessels, causing fans to once again cheer!!

 

WHOOOOOOOO~!!!!1!1

 

Mak pulls Mike away from the ropes and sends him on his way with an Irish whip. Craven hits the turnbuckle and meanders out, as the self proclaimed Franchise readies himself for a Yakuza kick, before exploding forward and sending the Nightmare to the mat, when dashing boot meets head!!

 

"NOOO! Craven, get up and finish ending his career... please." begs Riley.

 

“YAAAKUZA KICK~! KNOCKDOWN BY FRANCIS!” proclaims Stevens. Mike lies on the ground, as Mak waves his hands in the air shouting for him to get up and come on! Craven pushes himself up to one knee and the Franchise barrels forward again for a second Yakuza kick—

 

 

 

CRAAAAAAAAAAAACK!

 

 

 

…But he is caught completely off guard by Michael Craven, swinging a long forgotten crutch he concealed by staying in a crouched position!!! The blow rings out like a shotgun blast, plastering the self proclaimed Franchise’s left knee with a baseball like swing that sends the running Mak up into the air…

 

 

THUD!

 

 

…Just before falling to the mat in a heap, as the crutch disintegrates into small pieces, leaving only the bottom half of the weapon in Craven’s hands!!

 

"What a shot by the Nightmare! That's what Mak gets for attacking our US Champion!" spouts off Riley.

 

Mike, still holding onto the crutch, stands over Francis, but CIA quickly comes from the back, dashing down the ramp, causing Craven to roll out of the ring and walk up the ramp. He holds the broken crutch in the air as a trophy, while CIA leans over Mak as he attempts to get up in the center of the ring.

 

"What a vile act, from a vile person! Well be righ back with more SWF action!"

 

And SWF Smarkdown goes to commercial break.

[Guest Suicide King]

And we open up to the shot of a locker room of indiscernible origin. Red lockers line the walls as a few of them lie open, revealing a few towels, t-shirts with blue-ish words on them, some hand tape, and a message: “A legacy doesn’t make a man.; a man makes a legacy.” The camera picks up some grunting and ‘shwishing’ off camera, and slowly the view pans over to reveal the Velvet Hammer, shadow boxing as a warm up to his match against Ejiro Fasaki. His fist fly fast and hard, and he keeps his feet moving, making sure to keep his proper footwork. Suddenly, a finger of a person off camera taps on his shoulder. He stops, and turns around.

 

“Pe-“ He starts, but he cuts himself off and glares down at the unseen person, and the camera backs up to who show their identity.

 

“Judge.” Frost says without emotion, nodding once in recognition.

 

“Robert.”

 

“Come here ask me to go easy on your partner?”

 

The comment gets a small courtesy chuckle from Hearford.

 

“No, I’m here to give you an offer.”

 

“An offer?”

 

“Yes. I’m giving you one final chance to back out of the Tag Title match at 13th Hour.”

 

Frost raises an eyebrow at this, slightly stunned that the Judge would actually have the gall to do this.

 

“You want me to up our shot at the Tag Titles?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“And why do you think I should accept this?” growls the Icelandic monster.

 

“Because, Frost, you are just setting yourself up to lose. Why waste your time on something you just can’t win?”

 

He looks at Frost and shrugs his shoulders.

 

“How many times have you tried to beat us? Twice, and both times you lost. You lost with two World Champions on your side. Even I have to admit that TNT and Tom were daunting people to beat… but now you are coming at us with Longdogger Pete?”

 

He breaks out a loud laugh at Pete’s name.

 

“A man who can barely hobble to the ring, and he’s 14 years my younger. Christ, man, he hasn’t even gotten a title outside of the Hardcore! You couldn’t beat us with two WORLD Champions on your side. What makes you think you can do it with that failure?”

 

He pauses for a moment, and then speaks up again.

 

“And how about yourself? Every time we’ve won it’s because you couldn’t save your partner. Frost, you just don’t have what it takes to beat us anymore. If you come this time, I assure you, YOU’LL be the one getting hit with the Rule of Law.”

 

Frost doesn’t respond, thinking to himself for a moment.

 

“Well?”

 

Another pause, but Frost breaks it.

 

“In college, my professor asked us a question. When you drop a rock, what does always it do?”

 

He steps up towards Hearford.

 

“We all said, of course, that it falls to the ground. He shook his head at us, and he explained that you never know what it will do until it does it. No matter how many times you drop a rock and it falls, you can never expect it to fall to the ground every time, because the next time it could just float up to the ceiling.”

 

He steps right up into Hearford, staring down at the smaller man.

 

“You keep thinking that we can’t beat you. That’s fine. But you’ll only have yourself to blame when we float up-“

 

Frost brings up his hand, hitting Hearford right under the chin.

 

“And hit you right in the face.”

 

With that, he walks out to go to his tag match, leaving a fuming Hearford alone to ponder what to do about the tag match at the PPV.

[Guest Suicide King]

“This next contest is scheduled for ONE fall and has a thirty minute time limit...” Funyon begins as we hastily return from the last commercial break, which advertised some movies that you never ever wanted to see made. Seriously was anyone really clamoring for a sequel to The Fast and The Furious? But regardless of the lack of original thinking in Hollywood, we are just moments away from another sense staggering siege of wrestling action as brought to you by ‘Grand Slam’ Mark Stevens and Bobbie Riley.

 

Stevens calls into his microphone as Funyon pauses to soak in some of the audience’s cheers. “Folks, we about to see the next chapter in the battles that have been taking place between The Magnificent Seven and their former head of talent relations, Frost.”

 

“Former head of what now Stevens?”

 

“Talent relations,” replies Mark, “Although I am pretty confident that Frost related to talent by punching them in the mouth.”

 

“Oh ha, ha,” Riley deadpans back to his broadcast colleague, “Well ever since that break up it seems to me that the only person taking a licking is none other than Frost himself. Tom Flesher’s World Champions have just been punting the fatty across the world in just about every match that meant anything.”

 

“Now introducing, he is one half of the SWF World Tag Team champions!”

 

JUSTICE!

 

RULE!

 

With the wide letters racing across each other on The SmarkTron, the sounds of the crowd lowers from optimistic joy to a far more angry sound. But even their most obscene gestures are drowned out by the sudden sound of explosives high in the air.

 

POPPOPPOPPOPPOPPOPPOPPOPPOPPOP!

 

With the sounds of ‘Rage Against the Machine’ blaring into the arena, red machine gun-like pyrotechnics shoot off on either side of the entrance ramp. A moment later comes the bitterest man ever to come from Sarasota, Florida (and Randy Savage is from there so you know this guy is bitter). Once again adorned with the finely crafted and perfectly stitched Justice and Rule hooded sweatshirt pulled over his head, Ejiro Fasaki stares strait ahead as he makes a business like approach to the ring.

 

“Weighing in tonight at 191 pounds and representing the Magnificent Seven: World Championship Edition... He is one half of the World Tag Team Champions, Justice and Rule. The master of the cobra crossface, this is EJIROOOOOOO FASAKIIIIIII!”

 

Walking right up to Funyon and snagging away the microphone from the usually happy as a clam ring announcer; Ejiro looks out to the people that are only ever so happy to boo the bloody hell out of the little weasel. Smiling back at the sound of the crowd, Ejiro brings the microphone up to his lips and begins to speak in his squeaky voice to the people that paid good money to come and see other people tonight.

 

“Welcome everyone to the home that The Magnificent Seven built! You know, in mere moments, I will be making that tubby load of goo cry like the kid from fat camp that everyone knows that Frost was when he was growing up. But it will pale in comparison to the beating that your world tag team champions are going to put on the mishmash team of Longdogger Pete and Frosty at the 13th Hour. Because just like every other time you put the fat kid together with an old man, all you get with Pete and Frost is a molestation waiting to happen.”

 

“Oh that’s just completely disgusting!” replies Stevens as Fasaki tosses the microphone back to Funyon as the crowd replies to what all the kids today are calling a burn.

 

Riley answers immediately, “But from what I hear, totally accurate. It’s too hot to tell you right now, but call my hotline and I’ll dish the dirt they won’t let me say on television.”

 

“First off you don’t have a hotline other than that one you had with Randy Orton for a few weeks,” Stevens shoots back. “And second, the reason we do not let you say what you want is that we already have six law suits on our books for all the nonsense you spew on a regular basis.”

 

“And his opponent...”

 

BOOOOM!

 

A pale blue explosion blasts high into the air and literally snows downward onto the crowd as the sounds of Black Sabbath begin to rock the arena. With hoards of “Frost is Party” signs lifted high into the air, the people come unglued as the human polar bear comes stamping out from behind the curtain. Rising a fist up into the air, Frost continues to almost march all the way down the aisle way past the number of hands reached out merely to touch their idol. With the tip of his cigar blistering red, Frost steps right into the ring and stares right at Ejiro with his icy blue eyes. But it does not take long for that stare to become action as The Iceman makes a play for Fasaki but the member of Justice and Rule wants no part of the action as he almost dives out of the ring to get away from the angry Icelander.

 

“Weighing in at 296 pounds and hailing from the tundra of Iceland, this is the Velvet Hammer. Please welcome the engineer of the job train, FROSSSSSSSSSSSST!”

 

Reaching out to Funyon as the ring announcer finishes his announcing duties, Frost receives the microphone and begins to speak, “You know something Ejiro, if there is one person here who can really relate to children of all shape and size, it would have to be you. After all, you are the same size as they are. And that is all there is to say about that, FACE!”

 

Spitting out the last word with a little extra-added venom, Frost flicks his cigar down to the floor and into the face of his challenge for this evening. Reflexively starting backward as the lit ash billows into the air for just a second, Fasaki frowns hard for a moment as though he is about to start a temper tantrum like a kid who couldn’t get a hold of Hulk Hands this week. But still he makes no attempt to get into the ring as Frost happily holds court over the squared circle. But regardless of his presence in the ring or not, referee Nick Soapdish is not in the mood for a stalling contest tonight and he eagerly signals for the bell to ring to get this match underway.

 

DING! DING!

 

“And this match is underway,” calls out Stevens, “And I don’t know about you Riley, but I think Ejiro is going to have a whole lot of trouble dealing with Frost tonight. While an obviously very accomplished tag team wrestler, Fasaki has yet to prove in the SWF that he can really succeed in a singles match environment.”

 

Riley responds, “Oh, I think you will find that Ejiro has a whole lot more skills as a single than most people are willing to give him. After all, the guy trains with Judge Hearford and Tom Flesher on a fairly regular basis enough to pull his skills together. When he pulls Frost’s arm out of its socket don’t tell me that I did not say it was coming.”

 

But Ejiro Fasaki will have to have a very long reach to do that sort of thing as he seems perfectly happy to stay on floor for a moment or seven as Soapdish counts away towards a count out. Finally worried more about losing than he is about having Frost rip his face off of his skull, Fasaki slowly slides into the ring where Frost has been happily waiting this entire time in order to get a hold of the tag team champion. Moving against Ejiro slowly and surely, Frost locks up in a collar-and-elbow for just a moment before he finds himself in a top key lock. Looking at his left arm as Ejiro bends it backward for a moment, Frost almost smiles at the small amount of burning pain against his shoulder before he powers forward and sends Fasaki flying against the canvas in a hurry. Rolling almost as soon as he finds himself on the mat, Fasaki finds his way right back to the arena floor as The Velvet Hammer looks on with a passive look on his face.

 

“What a display of power there by the mighty Frost,” notes Stevens, “Ejiro had the right idea though. He has to turn this into a wrestling match some how using holds to counteract Frost’s advantages. But the problem is that he is going to have to get Frost down and hurt somehow in order for his holds to be effective.”

 

Slowly rolling back into the ring to keep from being subjected to a count out, Fasaki starts back at square one with the mammoth mountain of winter that is waiting for him. Frost, for his part, is quite content to wait in the middle of the ring where he knows Ejiro is going to have to venture if he wants to win this match. Circling around his opponent, Fasaki looks for some kind of opening as Frost waits to react to whatever Ejiro is planning on trying to do here. Slowly, Ejiro once again locks up in the collar-and-elbow for just a moment before darting around Frost with his superior quickness and snatching Frost from behind with a full nelson. Looking out to the crowd as Fasaki eagerly tries to bend his neck forward, Frost raises a questioning eyebrow as if to ask everyone what exactly is happening here. Almost casually, Frost forces his arms down to his side and breaks Fasaki’s locked hands to remove all of the pressure from the hold. Then, using his weight, Frost forces himself and Fasaki backward and sandwiches Ejiro against the turnbuckle with every one of his 296 pounds of muscle. Stepping out of the corner, Frost allows Fasaki to collapse into the turnbuckle for just a moment before colliding with Fasaki once more with a running back elbow that further knocks the stuffing right out of the member of the Magnificent Seven. Falling strait onto his face as Frost rebounds away, Ejiro barely has the energy left to drag his beaten body outside of the ring once again so he might catch yet another breather and restart the match from an even position. And once more, Frost allows it to happen as he holds court in the center of the ring.

 

“Interesting strategic maneuvering here by both competitors,” says Stevens. “Ejiro continues to force this match into a virtual crawl by getting out of the ring. While on the other side of the equation, Frost seems content to allow this to happen and is not his usual aggressive self in there. What do you make of that Bobbie?”

 

“Well I would have to admit that Frost is actually using his brain for once in his life. He knows that one thing that Ejiro Fasaki really excels at is using the ring and ringside area to his advantage. Fasaki will use the turnbuckles, the ropes, and anything that is not tied down in order to get ahead in a match. Frost must figure that as long as he stays in the center of the ring, this will be a man-on-man contest (my favorite kind) and he’ll be able to use his power to dominate.”

 

Sliding into the ring once more to try and climb the mountain once again, Fasaki paces a bit against the ropes as Frost patiently waits on his opponent to make his move. And in a few moments, Frost finds out just what that move is going to be.

 

SMACK!

 

“Ejiro just slapped the taste out of Frost’s mouth! I can’t believe Ejiro would want to tempt death in such a fashion!”

 

“He’s trying to get Frost angry enough to make a mistake.”

 

But evidently it is Fasaki that made the mistake as he suddenly feels the overbearing power of Frost shoving him backward against a turnbuckle with an almost scary amount of force. Slamming into Ejiro with his shoulder, Frost blasts away into Ejiro’s midsection driving all the air out of his lungs. Grabbing Ejiro by the wrist, Frost flicks Rule across the ring and into the turnbuckles with frightening ease that causes Ejiro to stagger right back into the center of the ring where Frost is waiting to snag him around the throat with two big paws. Cinching down on Fasaki’s windpipe The Velvet Hammer waits but a moment before elevating Ejiro high above his shoulders. Seeing the illegal choke with very little difficulty Soapdish counts away to the disqualification but Frost has another plan as he walks to the turnbuckles once again and gives Ejiro a ringside seat on the top rope. Releasing the grip on Ejiro’s neck, Frost leans back and...

 

SMACK!

 

“And Frost just smacked Fasaki right back!” yells Stevens as Ejiro’s head blisters backward from the force of Frost’s hand against his cheek.

 

Enraged by the insult, Ejiro grimaces at Frost with his sourest look before leaping strait at Frost with a clumsy attack that leads to a cataclysmic result as The Velvet Hammer snags Fasaki right out of mid air! Grasping Fasaki around the waist as he comes flying forward, Frost captures Ejiro in a completely legal bear hug that proceeds to suck the life out of Rule. Ripping Ejiro back and forth like a bear with a fish, Frost drains all the color out of Fasaki’s face as he drains the air away from the tag team champion. Not even thinking anymore, Ejiro reacts to the pain the only way his twisted mind would suggest as he jams a thumb right into Frost’s face in order to secure an escape from the deadly vise. Releasing Fasaki to the mat, Frost steps away and leans into a corner while trying to clear the clouds away from his vision. But still, Frost has one good eye to see Ejiro once again making a clumsy advance towards him. Leaning down with a shoulder, Frost shrugs Ejiro high into the air OVER THE TURNBUCKLE and all the way to the floor with a sickening thud.

 

“HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT!”

 

“SWEET JESUS JONES!” cries Stevens at the site. “I don’t think I have ever seen a backdrop send someone so high or far in my life! Fasaki might be dead! He might be dead!”

 

Riley immediately replies, “Forget this! The referee needs to disqualify Frost and end this match right now! There is no reason to allow that... that monster another crack at a normal human being. He tried to murder Fasaki in front of 20,000 witnesses for the love of Will and Grace!”

 

Splattered against the floor, Ejiro barely registers as Nick Soapdish slips out to the ring to check and see if Ejiro will be able to continue here tonight. Checking Ejiro’s eyes for a concussion or any other major injuries, Soapdish tries to make a very serious decision but is soon interrupted. Coming after his prey, Frost peels Ejiro off the mat much to the protests of the referee and heaves Fasaki back into the ring.

 

“This is crazy fans, I don’t know why Frost is doing this. He ... hopefully he’ll just end this thing right now. But if he has it in mind to punish Fasaki anymore we could be looking at one hell of a serious injury.”

 

“That bastard! You know he’s trying to cripple Fasaki so he and Pete will have an easier time at 13th Hour! Frost is a filthy bastard and now I have the proof right in front of my eyes!”

 

Following Ejiro back inside, Frost pushes Ejiro back into a corner and once again begins to lay a series of two forceful shoulders into Fasaki’s stomach. Pulling Ejiro out of the corner once more and uses an Irish whip to send Fasaki against the far turnbuckle once again. Charging ahead like a rhino, Frost looks to punish Fasaki ever the more with a huge avalanche only to find that his target is now longer in his sights! Almost feinting out of the path of rage, Ejiro falls out of range as Frost collides with the turnbuckle with all of the force that was meant for Ejiro.

 

CLANG!

 

Popping high against the turnbuckle, Frost’s head flies forward and smashes directly against the ring post before he falls strait backward into the mat with a thunderous clatter.

 

“And Frost might have know knocked himself out!” screams Stevens as a huge welt rises up on Frost’s forehead, “These guys simply want to hurt each other so badly that they are willing to do damn near anything to set themselves up favorably for their big tag team encounter.”

 

“But they’ve done such a sloppy job that both are now going to get counted out by the referee now! They have a ten count to get back up but I don’t know that either man can make it!”

 

FOUR!

 

FIVE!

 

Soapdish counts away as Fasaki struggles to stand using the ropes and Frost rolls over to his stomach, proving that both are at least still conscious.

 

SIX!

 

SEVEN!

 

Fasaki tries to pull himself off the mat but loses his tenuous grip on the rope and falls right back down to the mat where he rolls toward the center of the ring! With only moments to spare, will either man be able to get up to his feet?

 

EIGHT!

 

NINE!

 

TENNOOOOOOOOO!

 

“Frost just pushed himself up to his feet,” calls Stevens, “He’s wounded and staggering but he is up and ready! Here comes an elbow drop!”

 

THWAMMMMMMMMM!

 

“Miss!”

 

Rolling away at the last second, Ejiro allows Frost to drop all of his three hundred pounds onto his own elbow by mistake. Shaking out the limb almost immediately shows everyone that Frost has deadened the feeling in his own strong right arm. Holding the arm close to his body, The Velvet Hammer fights back up to his feet only to get locked up in a moment by the resurgent Fasaki and jammed back down to the mat with a single arm DDT!

 

WHUMP!

 

Frost and Ejiro both roll away from each other in obvious pain as Fasaki’s purple and bruised back suffers from even the most basic fall to the mat. Holding onto his back as he stands, Fasaki quickly searches for Frost as the mammoth Icelander leans against the ropes while sitting against the mat. Rushing forward with a boot to the head, Fasaki slams against Frost’s forehead with all the force that his battered body can provide. Kicking away at Frost’s head and shoulder, Ejiro manages to force the engineer of The Job Train against the ropes once again this time with Frost’s throat pressed against the middle rope. Hopping into the ropes, Ejiro races back to his original point before leaping into the air and coming down across the back of his hated ex-stable mate. Sliding in between the ropes as Frost grabs at his throat from the force of the impact. Leaning back from the apron, Ejiro slashes forward with a punting kick that catches Frost right across the forehead and knocks the 300 pounded backward and into the ring where Ejiro quickly follows.

 

“Ejiro has done that series of moves a number of times and I think we all know what will be coming up next.”

 

Pulling down his kneepad to expose the hard bone underneath, Fasaki aims true and drops a hard knee down into the face of the downed Arctic Assassin! Floating over with ease, Fasaki hooks Frost’s injured arm and presses down strait on the shoulders with all of his weight as Soapdish counts...

 

ONE!

 

TWNNNNOOOOOOOOOO!

 

“Not even a two count!” cries Riley as he sees his hopes and dreams dwindling. “Why can’t Frost just be a good boy and stay the hell down?”

 

“Frost does not have an once of quit in his entire body and you know it, Riley. Fasaki and Frost ... one of them is going to have to nearly kill the other for this match to end.”

 

Kicking out of the pin attempt still does not free The Velvet Hammer from Ejiro’s grip entirely though and the pugnacious grappler continues to hold on tightly to the arm. Hooking it underneath, Ejiro once more applies a key lock except this time his opponent is lying flat on the mat with no leverage to fight out of it. Grinding and pushing on the arm for all he is worth, Ejiro barely manages to keep Frost from rolling out and away from the pressure of the hold. But Fasaki soon realizes that he will be unable to use the hold the way in which he first intended it and goes to plan B. Pressing the wrist underneath the bulk of Frost’s arm, Ejiro leaves the arm alone for a mere moment before driving in a knee once more into the top of the elbow!

 

WHAM!

 

“Ejiro is trying to take that arm and completely render it useless here,” notes Stevens, “Everyone knows just how strong Frost’s punching power can be and by taking away his strong right arm, Fasaki will be able to neutralize that part of Frost’s assault.”

 

Wincing from the impact of that blast on his arm, Frost almost doesn’t even notice and Ejiro goes into his next offensive move and goes to lock on a cross armbreaker. But at the last moment, Frost realizes just what is coming and quickly links his hands in order to keep Ejiro from hyper extending his arm. But even Frost’s left arm is not strong enough to fight off the strength of Ejiro’s entire body and Fasaki manages to row the boat backward and extend the arm into the full arm bar! Coughing out in pain, Frost refuses to quit from the onslaught as Ejiro leans back and uses his legs to press Frost’s back against the mat as the referee checks for a submission.

 

“What a smart hold here!” Riley says, “Ejiro has got Frost pinned down to the canvas and is still managing to do the damage to that arm that is sure to carry over to the pay per view. This will give Justice and Rule the edge they wanted to take ‘Old and Fat’ all the way out of the match.”

 

“Look Riley, I’m not going to sit here and say it looks good for Frost right now. But the fact of the matter is that neither he nor Longdogger Pete have any quit in their entire bodies. If you think that either man is going to quit in their pursuit of The Magnificent Seven, you have another thing coming.”

 

And indeed Frost shows no sign of submitting here as he uses his legs to force himself up against the strain of the hold. Rolling up on Fasaki with all of his weight, Frost presses down hard on the arm as Fasaki doggedly tries to remain clamped there. But that perseverance could lead to disaster as Ejiro’s shoulders are pressed down to the mat where Soapdish is ready to make the count.

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

THREENNNOOOOOO! EJIRO GETS THE SHOULDER UP!

 

But Frost does not much care as he has come up with another way to escape from his predicament that is far more suited to The Velvet Hammer. Getting all the way up to his feet, Frost heaves Ejiro strait up and JAMS him strait down with a virtual powerbomb that pries the grip on Frost’s arm loose with a lot more authority than an amateur escape ever would!

 

BOOM!

 

“What an escape! Frost not only got out of the hold, he might have turned this whole match around for his cause!”

 

Shaking out his appendage as Fasaki lies unmoving on the canvas where Frost dropped him, The Velvet Hammer throws a deadly glance at his foe. Pulling Ejiro off the mat by the hair, Frost sends Ejiro into the turnbuckles and follows right in behind. It proves to be a good investment as Ejiro grabs the top rope on his way into the buckle and uses it to try and hurdle over the charging Icelander. But Frost has enough quickness in his huge frame to put on the brakes and catch his enemy across his shoulder! Pulling Ejiro loose from that corner, Frost heads for another and drops Fasaki’s face right into the turnbuckle with a snake eyes drop! Stammering and staggering on his feet, Ejiro bounces into the middle of the ring as The Velvet Hammer races into the ropes and causes...

 

“HELL FROZE OVER! WHAT A CLOTHELINE!”

 

But the impact of the blow not only causes Fasaki to spin to the mat in a complex mess of human anatomy but also delivers a stunning impact to Frost’s already damaged arm. Roaring from the pain of his own blow, Frost hesitates just a moment before he leans across Fasaki’s body to make a cover!

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

THREEEEEENOOOOOOOOOOAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

 

“Ejiro just barely kicked away in time!”

 

Pulling Ejiro up in the calmest manner as he can, Frost stands Ejiro up and sends the member of the Magnificent Seven against the ropes once again and tries to throw another clothesline, this time with the healthier left arm. But Ejiro ducks underneath the blow and tries to hook Frost over with a crucifix pinning combination but cannot find the leverage to pull the huge polar bear over. Instead, The Velvet Hammer manages to heave the 190-pound man right onto his shoulders. Using the left arm, Frost flips Ejiro over his shoulders so that Fasaki lands right on his feet. Quickly snatching the discombobulated Ejiro from behind, The Velvet Hammer locks on a cobra clutch!

 

“Frost is going for a submission win here! He can put Ejiro Fasaki unconscious just like that! Wait a minute... NO HE IS NOT!”

 

Instead of just grinding away with the submission maneuver, Frost instead lifts Ejiro high into the air for just a moment before burying him right into the canvas with a cobra clutch slam! But still Frost does not release the clutch even as Ejiro impacts with the canvas. Drawing Ejiro back up to his feet with the cobra clutch, Frost puts a leg in front of Fasaki for a moment before sweeping forward and smashing his face into the canvas!

 

“ICELANDIC LEG SWEEP! COVERRRR!”

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

THRENNNOOOOOOOOO!

 

“Fasaki kicked out once again! For all of the problems fan might have with Ejiro, everyone has to admit that he is double tough!”

 

Giving Soapdish a look for just a second, Frost goes back to work showing the professionalism that has won him so many SWF titles. Pulling Fasaki back up to his vertical base once more and sends him into a turnbuckle with an Irish whip that rocks Ejiro’s back against the turnbuckle. But even with all the pain that shoots through his wounded back, Fasaki still has enough presence of mind to lift a boot to stagger a charging Frost with a kick to the jaw. Hopping up to the middle rope for just a second, Fasaki leaps onto Frost’s shoulders and rolls forward with a victory roll, but Frost holds his ground! Holding onto his vertical base, Frost heaves Ejiro all the way back up before grabbing Fasaki by the hips and dumping him into a wheelbarrow position.

 

“Frost is going for his reverse powerbomb, The Snow Blind! This could end the match right here!”

 

But when Frost lifts Ejiro up once again, the wily Rule reaches back and hooks Frost’s head with a headlock before dropping him strait down with a bulldog!

 

WHAM!

 

Ejiro sits up with a glazed look in his eyes as Frost bounces over to his back from the force of the blow. Leaning over The Velvet Hammer, Ejiro hooks the far leg for the ...

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

THRENNOOOOOOOOOOO!

 

Frost powers out just in time to keep the match alive! But Ejiro looks to make that his last gasp as he winds up Frost’s arm with a wristlock before swinging a leg up and over the shoulder. Setting for just a moment, Ejiro leaps up high into the air for the Fasaki fuser.

 

“Wait a minute Frost counters!”

 

Using his shoulder as a lever as Ejiro takes to the air, Frost manages to flip Ejiro all the way over and onto his feet for just a moment. Because as soon as Fasaki lands, Frost takes his head off at the shoulder with a devastating left handed lariat that hooks Ejiro all the way down to the mat! Standing up, Frost flexes his wounded arm once or twice before he looks out to the crowd and makes the signal that the chokeslam is on its way!

 

“FROST! FROST! FROST! FROST! FROST! FROST!”

 

Waiting on Fasaki to get his ass up, Frost waits and waits for the right moment before locking down on Ejiro’s throat. With one big ham hock of a hand around Fasaki’s throat, Frost uses his free hand to give the fans a thumb’s up and then a huge thumb’s down. Lifting Ejiro ten feet into the air with ease, Frost looks to put this thing away with one big move. But at the apex of the lift, Ejiro winds his legs around Frost’s arm and leans backward...

 

“What a counter! It’s SIX SECOND MAGIC! A hanging armbar!”

 

Suddenly feeling the pressure on his shoulder once again, Frost holds up the entire bodyweight of his adversary as Fasaki pries away at the arm! Struggling, Frost jams Fasaki down on the mat once again but is unable to force a break as Ejiro continues to wind away at the arm as the crowd looks on in stunned horror. Falling under the pressure, Frost falls down to a knee for just a moment before Ejiro transitions slightly...

 

“Reverse cross armbreaker! Ejiro has him locked in tightly. Can Frost hold ...”

 

TAP! TAP!

 

“What!? Frost tapped out? Frost tapped out! This one is history!”

 

“Oh what a glorious day! Frost did not just lose. He quit! HAHAHA!”

 

DING! DING! DING!

 

Releasing the hold, Ejiro rolls to a corner as Frost grabs angrily at his shoulder in frustration. For once, Frost’s body has let him down under the pressure of a determined adversary. Slapping the canvas with his good arm Frost shows his frustration as Fasaki takes solace on the ringside floor. The only medicine his back needs is the following announcement by Funyon.

 

“The winner of this contest by submission, EJIROOOOOO FASAKIIIIIIIII!”

 

“What a huge win for Ejiro Fasaki and the Magnificent Seven,” says Riley. “He just took all the confidence Frost had gained from the alliance with Longdogger and flushed it. The Las Vegas odds for 13th Hour just took a huge change!”

 

“I have to admit there you are correct there, Bobbie. But momentum in wrestling is a fleeting thing and if Justice and Rule gets overconfident, Pete and Frost will take them apart. But there is only one way to find out fans. And that’s to order the pay per view. We’ll see you in two minutes fans, don’t you dare go away!”

[Guest Suicide King]

The sold out First Union Center reappears on the screen, with fans packed into every possible seat and yelling away as Funyon climbs into the ring once again.

 

Stevens: It's time for a Tag Match that's pitting some of the SWF's best talent and Champions against each other.

 

Riley: Yes, we know all about Tome Flesher and Judge Mental, but what about those pair of thugs, Danny Williams and Dace Night?

 

Stevens: Riley, save the brown nosing for Friday nights.

 

Suddenly the crowd erupts into a thunderous ovation as the Boston Strangler unexpectedly starts lumbering down the ramp towards ring side. There is no entrance music playing, there is no taunts or poses, the Strangler simply grabs a folding chair, picks out a quiet little corner, sits up the chair, and has a seat.

 

Riley: What in the hell does he think he's doing out here?

 

Stevens: The Boston Strangler will be facing Tom live on PPV at 13th Hour next week, tickets still on sale by the way. So it is likely

 

Ready with the introductions, Funyon clears his throat and speaks.....

 

Funyon: Ladies and Gentlemen, the follow match will be a Tag Team Match for One Fall!

 

Anxious for the match to start, the crowd gives a deafening pop.

 

Riley: Listen to em, and Flesher's name hasn't even been mentioned yet.

 

Funyon: Introducing firstly, at a combined weight of four hundred and ninety seven pounds .. from the UNHOLY TRINITY ...... SWF HGC and ICTV CHAMPIONS ...... DANNY ''DEATHWISH'' WILLIAMS and DACE ''HORRORCORE'' NIGHT!

 

The light dim and the entrance ramp is covered in a wall of red laser light as smoke billows up.

 

""LET FREEDOM RING WITH A SHOTGUN BLAST!""

 

A shower of pyro fountains off the ramp, while red strobe lights set the mood. The crowd goes crazy as Danny and Dace stride down towards the ring, title belts in hand. More fired up than usual, Dace jogs out in front of Danny, sliding into the ring. Handing over his belt at ring side, Williams uses the steps to calmly enter the ring. Dace energetically bounces up and down, warming up, while Danny pops his knuckles, staring down the ramp in anticipation of his enemies' arrival.

 

Funyon: And their opponents, firstly from Royal Oak, Michigan, at two hundred and forty two pounds ... one half of the SWF TAG TEAM CHAMPIONS ...... JUDGE MENTAL!

 

The soft drum beats echo across the dimmed arena, getting louder and louder.

 

""NOW TESTIFY!""

 

Three flares of red pyro shoot up before the lights come back up and The Judge appears at the top of the ramp.

 

"Boooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!"

 

With his Tag Title Belt in hand, he struts down the ramp, waving on the booing crowd without a care. Stopping in front of the ring, he looks up to Williams and Night, with contempt on his face.

 

Funyon: And his tag team partner, from Buffalo, New York at two hundred and thirteen pounds ...... he is a man the ladies wish they could have, the men too. He's the one picking up your barely legal sister, from coast to coast, from pole to pole, he owns you all, please thank him for his present .. THE SWF WORLD HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPION ...... THE SUPERIOR ONE ...... TOM FLESHER!

 

"FLESHER SUCKS! FLESHER SUCKS! FLESHER SUCKS!"

 

Kashmir kicks in to blue and white pyro as the familiar Smarktron video plays. Flesher steps out into the arena, waving on the boos as if they where cheers. Golf clapping himself down the ramp, he stands along Judge as a second hail of blue and white pyro lights up the arena. The Judge and The Superior One hand over their titles, while Dace watches on intently, not taking his eyes off the Judge. The crowd is a shifting mass of calls and cheers as they wait for the match to start.

 

Stevens: After getting off to a strong start, the team of Williams and Dace has been slumping as of late. Despite striving in singles competition, Williams has been struggling in tag team action, facing great difficulty in leading his young partner to victory.

 

Riley: I got news for you, Danny's luck won't be changing tonight. If they couldn't beat Ejiro and Mental, how can they expect to beat Flesher and Mental?

 

Stevens: If they want to win and get back in the hunt for the gold, that's the question that Dace and Danny are gonna have to answer.

 

Noticing the tall man in the corner, Flesher climbs into the ring, and starts complaining to Soapdish. The Judge follows Tom's lead, stepping in after him ....

 

Suddenly, Dace bolts across the ring, viciously attacking Mental with a flurry of hay makers as he enters the ring! Mental fights back, slinging some nasty lefts and rights of his own, resulting in an all out brawl that sends the hot crowd into a frenzy!

 

Riley: What the hell does Dace think he's doing, he has no right to ambush one half of the tag team champions like that!

 

Stevens: Dace is obviously still bitter about the Justice and Rule beat down last week, and is looking for a little pay back.

 

As quickly as the scuffle broke out, it ends as Flesher and Williams pull their deranged partners apart, having to psychically restrain them so that they can drag them back to their corners. Dace screams taunts across the ring at Mental, while the grumpy vet simply growls. Like kids during a school yard fight, the fans start to chant for their favorite...

 

"DACE-NIGHT! DACE-NIGHT! DACE-NIGHT!"

 

Soapdish takes turns chastising Mental and Dace, letting them know he won't stand for this type of nonsense in his ring. Needless to say, the crowd quiets down.

 

Stevens: It seems that order has been restored, for now.

 

Riley: For now being the key phrase, Stevens, because there is no way in hell that the Judge is gonna let Dace get away this.

 

After some coaxing by their stable leaders, Dace and Mental step out on to the ring apron, leaving Tom and Williams in the ring. The fans are pleasantly surprised by this turn of events, wiggling in their chairs with anticipation. Interested himself, Strangler uncrosses his arms, and sits up at attention.

 

Riley: Would you look at that, I think Danny and Tom are actually gonna start this one off.

 

Stevens: Perhaps they are going to give their fired up team mates a chance to cool off, you can't think straight when your pissed.

 

With Tom and Danny ready in their corners, Soapdish calls for the bell.

 

DING! DING! DING!

 

Excited about who is starting the match, the crowd puts their hands together, giving a huge ovation. Williams and Flesher leave their corners, finding their way to the center of the ring, where they immediately tangle their arms in a grapple. A struggle ensues, but Flesher easily gains the upper hand in no time, latching on to Danny with a side headlock. Impressed by his own skills, Tom arrogantly sticks his nose in the air as he adds pressure to the hold. But in a flash, Williams smoothly twists out of it, bending Tom's arm into a painful hammerlock. Not one to be out wrestled, Flesher experiences little difficulty in reversing Danny's hold into a hammerlock of his own. With Danny secured in the hold, Tom takes the opportunity to smirk at the Strangler

 

CRACK!

 

Flesher lifelessly crumbles to the mat, courtesy of a razor sharp reverse elbow!

 

Stevens: AND DOWN GOES THE WORLD CHAMPION!

 

Not expecting to see the World Champion go down after just one shot, the fans jump out of their seats with excitement. Even the Strangler is caught off guard, jumping out of his chair as if he just sat on a whoope cushion. Williams casually walks away like it's no big deal, while Tom groggily sits up, softly rubbing the side of his head like it's sensitive to the touch.

 

Riley: I think Danny needs to show a little more respect for our World Champion. Tom was trying to have a nice little wrestling match, when Danny hauls off and elbows him in the face for no good reason, behavior like that is totally unacceptable.

 

Stevens: While it is true that Williams isn't a big fan of Tom and his theatrics, I think the elbow was more of a message for the World Champ than a sign of disrespect. He's letting Tom know that he should be worrying about him tonight, not the Strangler.

 

Adding further insult to injury, Williams takes a couple of steps back, showing Tom he attends to let him get up. More embarrassed than hurt, Flesher angrily climbs to his feet with a snort. Mental holds out his hand for the tag, but Tom shakes his head, rejecting it.

 

Riley: Tom an't gonna leave the ring just yet, he's got something to prove now.

 

Flesher resumes his Greco Roman Stance in the center of the ring, and motions for Danny to bring it. Not keeping Tom waiting, Williams rushes in, instigating a collar elbow tie up. Using his considerable weight and power advantage, Williams muscles Tom into a neutral corner. Not wanting to get caught with his back against the wall, Tom suavely spins out of the corner so that it is now Danny who is trapped against the turnbuckles. Seeing as how wrestling on the ropes is illegal, Soapdish steps in and orders the break. Flesher unwraps his arms from Danny's, but the untrusting ICTV champion immediately gets his arms up in a defensive stance. Surprisingly, Tom slowly backs up with his hands in the air to show he's breaking cleanly, prompting a confused Danny Williams to lower his hands and relax.

 

Stevens: Flesher, uncharacteristically giving Danny the clean break.

 

Suddenly, Tom steps forward, thrusting his leg up...

 

CRAAAAAAACK!

 

catching Danny under the chin with a jaw breaking High Kick!

 

Stevens: I guess I spoke too soon.

 

Riley: I think that was a message too, Stevens. He's telling Danny that he may have his lethal elbows, but Tom's got the Yakuza Kick, and it is Justice and it is Rule.

 

Stevens: I think the Strangler should make a note, under any circumstances, do not trust Tom.

 

Barely able to hold his eyes open, Williams slides down the turnbuckles until he's seated on his ass. The crowd gives Tom a healthy round of "boos" as he golf claps for himself in celebration of his great achievement. Since Danny is seeing birdies, Flesher takes the opportunity to strut over to his corner, and tag in his more than eager partner. Mental climbs into the ring, and shoots a sinister glare at Horrorcore, who does the same.

 

Stevens: The tension between those two is so thick you can cut it with a knife.

 

Riley: Something bad is indeed on the horizon, and I'm glad to have a front roll seat for it.

 

Finally taking his eyes off the object of his hatred, Mental sets his sights back on Danny who is clumsily attempting to pull himself up in the corner. The Judge pulls Williams the rest of the way up, draws back his big hand, and....

 

Smack!

 

Slices Williams chest with a blistering knife edge chop!

 

Smack! Smack!

 

Mental gives him two more chops for good measure, leaving Danny's chest a raw reddish color. The stinging blows stun Williams, allowing the Judge to take him by the wrist, and launch him out of the corner with an Irish whip! Williams speeds towards the cross corner against his will....

 

BOOM!

 

Crashing back first into the turnbuckles! Williams stumbles out of the corner in a stupor, wandering right into the hands of the Judge, who scoops him up, twists around, and slams him into the mat with ring shaking force!

 

BOOOOOOOM!

 

Mental remains on top of Danny, hooking his leg for the pin!

 

Stevens: Good god, what a Powerslam!

 

Soapdish slides to the mat, and starts the count.

 

 

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

Dace rushes into the ring to make the save!

 

 

 

 

TW-NO, Williams kicks out himself, but the Judge still gets a Double Axehandle to the back!

 

Riley: Hey, he didn't have to do that, Danny already kicked out! He just used the pin attempt as an excuse to get a cheap shot in!

 

Dace coldly walks back to his corner to a nice pop, while Mental sits up on his knee, trembling as if he's using every ounce of his will power to hold back his anger.

 

Riley: Can somebody please explain to me how these people can cheer Dace's actions, tonight?

 

Stevens: While Dace isn't practicing good ethics at the moment, he is at least a legal participant in the match, unlike Judge Mental during the attack last week.

 

The Judge helps Danny to his feet, pushes him against the ropes, and gives him a few chops to keep him worn down.

 

Smack! Smack!

 

The Judge whips Danny off the ropes, and rushes to position in the center of the ring, catching the ICTV Champ on the rebound with a beautiful standing drop kick! In an instant, the Judge springs to his feet, catching Dace off guard with an unexpected drop kick as well!

 

CLANK!

 

Dace flies off the ring apron, crash landing into the guard rail below, giving the front fans more than a little scare!

 

Riley: That should teach him to respect his elders.

 

Despite the deafening volume of the crowd's jeers, Tom manages to shout audible orders to his partner...

 

"Finish him, Judge!"

 

Mental nods his head in response, before quickly dragging Williams up by his tights. Mental clamps his hands around Danny's neck in a Full Nelson, sending the crowd into a panic! Williams tries to power out of it, but the Judge is too damn strong, keeping his fingers linked tightly together!

 

Riley: HE'S GOING FOR THE DRAGON SUPLEX!

 

Stevens: This move has been haunting Williams for the past few weeks, nearly costing him the ICTV title on two different occasions!

 

The Judge dips his knees, and lifts Williams off the mat for the bridge....

 

Stevens: DRAGOOOOOOOOOOOOOON......

 

but Danny desperately kicks off the ring ropes at the last possible second! The momentum knocks the Judge on his back, while Danny lands safely on top of him, squashing Mental into the mat in the process! Tom smacks his forehead in disgust, while the crowd starts to warm up.

 

Stevens: NO, Danny countered with some quick thinking!

 

Danny rolls off his flattened victim, and doesn't stop until he reaches his corner, where Dace is just now climbing back on to the ring apron. Dace takes hold of the ring ropes, and slaps hands with Danny! The crowd blows the roof off the place as a fired up Dace Night enthusiastically climbs into the ring, and stomps his way over to the Judge!

 

Stevens: Here we go!

 

Riley: This should be interesting.

 

With the crowd roaring like a lion, the blood thirsty Hardcore Champ viciously jerks Mental up by his hair, and starts repeatedly plunging knees into his abdomen! Having softened the vet up, Dace takes hold of his hair and tights, and tosses him through the ropes, down to the floor! Continuing the assault, Dace hurries out of the ring, where he finds his deflated opponent on the floor, struggling to breathe. Tom stands up on his tippy toes, straining to see what is happening on the floor on the other side of the ring. The World Champion watches Dace pull Mental up by his hair, and start slamming his forehead into the steel guardrail, over and over and over and over again while the fans cheer him on!

 

CLING! CLANG! DING! CLANK!

 

Pissed beyond words, Tom enters the ring, but so does Danny. Before they can reach other, Soapdish dives in between them, trying to keep them separated. Unable to get to each other, Danny and Flesher exchange words, their inaudible, but it's obvious they aren't fit for network television.

 

Riley: Come on ref, your letting Dace get away with murder!

 

Stevens: Yes, it is very ironic to see Flesher be the victim of rule manipulation, something him and Frost use to excel at in tag matches.

 

On the outside, Dace has snatched Mental's tag belt from the so called belt keeper, and decides to personally return it to it's owner.

 

Smack! Smack! Smack!

 

Growling like a rabid dog, a very pissed off Dace Night whelps Mental's back with the steel belt as if it was a whip! Each time the belt makes contact with his flesh, Mental cries out in anguish! Loving every second of this, the fans start chanting...

 

"DACE-NIGHT! DACE-NIGHT! DACE-NIGHT!"

 

Stevens: This is exactly what the Judge and Ejiro did to Dace last week on !

 

Riley: If Dace brought the hate like this more often, I would probably be a bigger fan of his.

 

Realizing he's doing more harm than good, Tom hesitantly goes back to his corner, and Danny soon follows. By this time, Dace has tossed the belt aside, and has dragged the Judge up into a standing head scissors. The fans rise out of their chairs, wandering what grisly fate awaits Mental. Not one to build suspense, Dace lets out an emotional battle cry and wastes no time in lifting Mental upside down! Dace stalls for a second, and than sits back, planting the tag champ's skull into the floor!

 

CRUNCH!

 

After his head bounces off the floor, Mental goes limp and lifelessly falls to the side, a small gash now visible near the top of his head.

 

Stevens: PILEDRIVAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!

 

Riley: If that wasn't the Judge that just got his head split open, I'd be marking out right now.

 

Dace dusts himself off, and climbs back into the ring guilt free, while Danny takes it upon himself to pull Mental's corpse up and roll it back into the ring. Dace anxiously gets Mental on his back, and hooks a leg for the pin.

 

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

NO! Mental gets a boot on the rope, forcing Soapdish to halt the count, while Flesher sighs with relief. Cooled off after the emotional release, Dace calmly climbs back to his feet, and tags in Danny to a big pop. The exact opposite of his younger partner, Danny shows no emotion as he steps through the ropes, stalking his way over to his bloody victim. Williams grabs Mental by the head, snapmares him away from the ropes, and locks his swollen arms around his head in a tight Step Over Facelock! Blood oozing from his forehead and running in his eyes, Mental uncharacteristically screams out in pain as pressure is put on the open wound. Perhaps feeling a little nostalgic, the fans give a unforseen ridiculously loud ovation for the familiar spot.

 

Stevens: Danny Williams, dusting off the old Step Over Facelock to work over that laceration on the Judge's head.

 

Riley: Bah, the Judge don't have anything to worry about, only pansies like Frost tap out to that move.

 

Flesher isn't as relaxed as Riley, rushing into the ring against Soapdish's wishes, he starts slamming palm strikes into Danny's head!

 

Smack! Smack! Smack!

 

Williams stubbornly holds on the Judge, squeezing his head tighter as if he's punishing him for Tom's defiance. Tom doesn't care, and keeps on swinging away, pounding Danny's head from left to right like it's bobble head doll!

 

Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack!

 

Finally, the blows accumulate and a dizzy headed Danny Williams releases Mental, flopping back on his BUTT in a punch drunk daze. His mission accomplished, Tom heads for his corner, when suddenly Williams springs to his feet, and pounces him! Danny spins Tom around, palms the back of his head, and starts pounding his jaw and temple with cringe inducing Elbow Smashes!

 

CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!

 

The rubber legged World Champion stumbles back into the ropes, and takes a seat on the second rope to keep from falling down, but he's still a sitting duck!

 

Stevens: THE CHAMPION IS HURT, THE ROPES ARE THE ONLY THING KEEPING HIM UP!

 

Danny takes a big step forward, and swings out his forearm....

 

CRAAAAAAACK!

 

knocking the World Champion limp with a brutal Elbow Smash! Tom flops out on to the ring apron, and bounces down to the floor like a rag doll! Williams finally breaks out of his shell, and unleashes an emotional roar in celebration!

 

Stevens: Unbelievable fighting spirit from Danny Williams, actually besting the World Champion in a strike exchange!

 

Riley: Williams may be taking the fight to him, but Tom isn't going to roll over and die, and though things may look bleak, this match is far from over.

 

Screaming their heads off, the fans rise out of their chairs, sensing that the end is near for the Judge. Strangle is also up as well, ready to pack his bags and call it a night. Bleeding profusely, Mental blindly stumbles to his feet...

 

CRAAAAAAAAAAAACK!

 

Only to get leveled by a face liquefying Jumping High Kick that sends a mixture of blood and sweat flying into the air like vapor!

 

Stevens: DYNAMIC KICK!

 

Danny hooks Mental's leg for the pin, while the fans scream along with Soapdish's count!

 

 

"ONE!"

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"TWO!"

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"Ooooooooooooooooh!", groans the fans as Mental kicks out! Seeing that Flesher is still out on the floor, Williams tags in Dace who is meet with an ear shattering ovation as he steps through the ropes. Dace starts to drag the Judge to his feet, while Williams climbs out on to the ring apron, and begins ascending the turnbuckles.

 

Stevens: Hmmm, I wander what they have in mind here, perhaps the Diving Elbow/Powerbomb combo they used to defeat Wild and Dangerous.

 

Riley: Whatever their doing, they better do it fast, because I got a feeling there's gonna be hell to pay when Tom wakes up.

 

To the astonishment of the crowd, Dace hoists Mental on his shoulders in the Electric Chair Drop position, facing away from Danny Williams, who is standing tall on the top rope! Camera flashes light up the arena as Danny dives off the top rope, bashing the back of Mental's neck with a stiff Western Lariat!

 

SMAAAAAACK!

 

In perfect sequence, Dace sits out, slamming Mental face first into the mat!

 

KA-BOOOOOOOOOOM!

 

Dace quickly rolls the blood soaked Judge over on his back, and tightly secures a leg for the pin!

 

Stevens: INVERTED DOOMSDAY DEVICE, GOOD GOD WHAT A MANEUVER! AND TOM IS STILL OUT, THERE IS NO ONE TO BREAK UP THE PIN!

 

Knowing that the Judge has no chance of kicking out after that, the fans anxiously scream along with the count!

 

 

 

 

"ONE!"

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"TWO!"

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"THREE!"

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

NO! Mental shoots a shoulder up, drawing a collective sigh from the crowd! Strangler returns to his chair, and makes himself comfortable again.

 

Riley: THERE'S STILL SOME FIGHT LEFT IN THE OLD MAN!

 

Striking while the iron is hot, Dace immediately rolls Mental back on his stomach, and clamps on the inverted chin lock! The fans don't dare sit back down, patiently waiting for the inevitable tap out.

 

Stevens: THE FRONT FACELOCK CHOKE! Will the Judge fall to the same move that his partner fell to a couple of weeks back?

 

Grunting with strain, Dace squeezes with all his might, pushing the remaining blood out of Mental's head! A crimson pool starts to form underneath the Judge, who half heartedly holds out his hand to his side for what will surely be the tap out, when suddenly, Tom Flesher comes sliding into the ring!

 

Riley: No, Mental won't fall, because he's got the World Champion for a partner!

 

Flesher makes his way over to Dace, when out of nowhere, Williams comes flying into the ring, ducking behind the World Champion, and grabbing a Sleeperhold! The crowd gets even louder, as Mental's escape becomes more and more unlikely. Just as he did against Ejiro, Dace starts kicking his legs in the air like he's trying to do a hand stand, but can't stay balanced, working the hold over for all it's worth!

 

Stevens: FLESHER HAS BEEN NEUTRALIZED, AND MENTAL LOOKS LIKE HE'S HAD ENOUGH!

 

While Dace pumps the blood out of the Judge's head, Williams starts carelessly twisting Flesher's head from side to side, hoping to put him out for good! However, the World Champion stealthily links his hands around Danny's waist, and shockingly snaps back on his tippy toes, dumping Williams on his head!

 

CRUUUUUNCH!

 

 

The fans gasp in horror as Williams lifelessly flops over on his stomach, and doesn't move another inch!

 

Stevens: BACKDROP DRIVAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!

 

Tom doesn't have time to bask in the head dropping glory, rushing to the aid of his partner, catching Dace in the mouth with a teeth shattering Seated Dropkick!

 

Crack!

 

Dace releases Mental, and rolls over on his back, holding his face and stomping his feet in agony!

 

Stevens: THE DROPKISS!

 

Riley: Like any true leader, Tom comes through in the clutch, stepping up, and making the save.

 

Disappointed, the fans flop back in their chairs. Flesher steps back out on to the apron, takes hold of the tag rope with one hand, and stretches the other one out into the ring. Leaving behind a blood trail, Mental crawls to his corner, raises his weary hand, touching it with Tom's!

 

"Booooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!"

 

Moving with confidence, Tom climbs into the ring, strutting his way over to Dace, who is struggling to his hands and knees. Many members of the audience are more concerned about Danny, who still hasn't moved a single inch since taking the nasty head drop. Legit scared, Soapdish kneels down beside the unfortunate ICTV Champion, and starts trying to revive him.

 

Stevens: Danny appears to have been injured, he landed awfully hard on the back of his head.

 

Riley: I hope the Strangler got a good look that, because if he isn't careful, that could be him next week.

 

Stevens: Uh, I doubt Flesher could lift Strangler at that angle, but you never know, Danny did perform the Backdrop Driver on Frost once.

 

 

Seeing that Danny is out of the picture, Flesher decides how to best capitalize on the situation, and finish the match. The Superior One straddles Dace like a little kid playing horsey, and tightly hooks his arm around his head with a suffocating inverted facelock!

 

Stevens: THE SUPERIOR STRETCH BETA!

 

Riley: Soapdish better quit crying over spilled milked, and gets his ass over there to hear Dace's submission.

 

Catching the submission attempt out of the corner of his eye, Soapdish turns way from Danny, rushes to the scene. Flesher shakes his head up and down, and lets out a cry of effort as he strains to cut off the blood supply to Dace's brain. The fans get behind Horrorcore, showing their support with an encouraging chant...

 

"DACE-NIGHT! DACE-NIGHT! DACE-NIGHT!"

 

Fighting to stay awake, Dace starts crawling towards the ropes, even as his limps start to grow heavier and heavier. Recognizing the move as a potential threat, Strangler takes a deep interest in the in ring action.

 

Stevens: DACE IS FADING, TOM MAY HAVE WON THIS THING SINGLE HANDEDLY!

 

Struggling to keep the Dragon Sleeper properly applied, Tom rides Dace, hoping he'll pass out before he makes the ropes. His vision going blurry, Dace collapses a couple of inches short of the ropes, and with a final last ditch effort, throws out his arm, finding the bottom rope! The hopefuls in the audience raise the roof as Tom is forced to unwrap his arm from around Dace's face.

 

Stevens: HE MADE THE ROPES!

 

Sweat washing his hair gel out, Flesher wipes his bangs out his eyes, and once again is left pondering on how to close the match, when he hears the loud, intimidating, voice of his partner....

 

"TOM!!!.........LET ME HAVE HIM!"

 

Flesher looks to his corner, where he sees Mental standing tall, his teeth clenched, his face dripping with fresh, dark red blood. Not knowing how to argue with that, Tom doesn't hesitate to tag in his very, very, very, angry partner.

 

Riley: It looks like it's time for some Justice, Stevens.

 

Wearing a sadistic grin, Mental adjusts his tights as he stalks his way over to the drowsy Hardcore Champion. The Judge grabs Dace by the hair, and with no concern for his roots, violently jerks him up....

 

Crack!

 

Dace catches Mental off guard with a surprise elbow! Instead of hurting Mental, this infuriates him even more. In the response, the Judge draws back his hand, and.............

 

SMAAACK!

 

Bitch slaps the taste out of Dace's mouth!

 

"Ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooh!"

 

A red hand print left on his cheek, Dace collapses to his knees, and flops face down on the mat. Doing his best hyena impersonation, Tom busts into hysterical laugher.

 

Riley: The Judge, knocking or should I say smacking Dace in his place.

 

The battle tested vet isn't done yet, he rolls Dace over into a seated position, and slaps on the Dragon Sleeper. Putting on his scariest old bad ass face, Mental starts gruesomely twisting Dace's torso back and forth, threatening to tear him in half!

 

Stevens: AND MENTAL IS HOLDING DACE WITHOUT BAIL!

 

Once more the crowd starts to chant, hoping they can get Dace through this...

 

"DACE-NIGHT! DACE-NIGHT! DACE-NIGHT!"

 

but it's no use. Despite surviving the hellish pain, Dace can't fight off the effects of the Dragon Sleeper, and it's not long before he grows limp in Mental's powerful arms. The Judge promptly releases Dace, and anxiously covers him for the pin!

 

Riley: IT'S OVER, NOT ONLY HAS MENTAL TAUGHT THAT YOUNG PUNK A LESSON IN RESPECT, HE'S WON THE MATCH!

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO1/2....

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THREE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

NO! Dace wiggles a shoulder up, and the crowd goes wild, stomping their feet until it sounds like thunder from a coming storm.

 

Stevens: DACE, REFUSING TO STAY DOWN! Even without Danny Williams to watch his back, he's hanging on and surviving. Regardless of the outcome, I think a new star is rising.

 

Riley: Yeah, but the Judge is gonna make sure that this new star isn't gonna rise at his expense.

 

Pissed beyond expression, Mental sits up, and slams his fist into the mat! The Judge stands over Dace's body, and starts slapping his face from side to side, while growling....

 

"GET UP!"

 

over and over again. Meanwhile, Williams has gradually rolled back to his corner, but all he can do is lay on the apron and look dazed. After having his cheeks blistered, Dace starts to stir, so Mental gives him his space, taking a few steps back.

 

Stevens: Mental, eyeing Dace up for something.

 

Riley: I bet it's the Surprise Witness, a fitting neck breaking end for the fiery youngster.

 

His eyes crusted over his sleep, Dace wobbles to his feet, ignorant of Mental's plan. In a flash, Mental doubles Dace over with a kick to the guy, twists around, and grabs the 3/4 headlock!

 

Stevens: SURPRISE WITNESS!

 

Riley: TOLD YA!

 

But Dace shoves Mental off, launching him towards the ropes....

 

CRAAAAAAAAAAACK!

 

and right into a Danny Williams' Elbow Smash, who just happens to have made it back to his feet! As if he had just taking a gun shot to the head, Mental crumbles back to the mat!

 

Stevens: OH MY, HE WAS OUT BEFORE HE EVEN HIT THE GROUND!

 

Flesher throws up his arms in disgust, and starts bitching at Soapdish.

 

Stevens: Tom, arguing that Danny Williams wasn't the legal man...

 

Riley: Because he wasn't, this is a travesty, Mental done away by an illegal double team after wrestling such a brilliant match!

 

The crowd goes bananas as Dace sluggishly crawls on top of Mental for the pin.

 

 

 

"ONE!"

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"TWO!"

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

................

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"THREE!"

 

 

 

 

 

No, Tom breaks up the pin with a dickish Double Stomp to Dace's lower back!

 

"Boooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!"

 

Without warning, Flesher takes the opportunity to blast Danny off the apron with a stiff Shotei!

 

SMACK!

 

Sensing his work is done, the Superior One heads back to his corner, but for some reason he can't lift his boot off the mat. Curious as to what the problem is, Flesher looks down, finding Dace clutching to his Doc Marten with a death drip! Desperate for escape, Tom starts driving palm strikes down into Dace's face, but it's useless. Hearing the crowd pop, Flesher snaps his head up just in time to see Danny spin at him....

 

CRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!

 

Dace releases Flesher's leg, letting him spiral to the mat in a lifeless heap!

 

Stevens: ROLLING ELBOOOOOOOOOOOOOW!!!

 

Still feeling woozy, Williams drops to his hands and knees, while the crowd erupts into a standing ovation. Barely conscious, Tom rolls out of the ring, and free falls down to the floor.

 

Stevens: In perhaps a summary of the last half of the match, Dace hangs on long enough to buy Danny just enough time to recover and mount a counter attack!

 

Riley: If Dace can do it, Mental can do it, all he has to is survive until Tom can recover.

 

Having shook the cob webs loose, Williams climbs back to his feet just as Dace is also struggling to a vertical base. Williams spits out some instructions to Dace, who nods his head, who hobbles into a corner on the opposite side of the ring. With Dace in position, Williams helps the punch drunk Judge to his feet, and shoves him in the cross corner from his partner.

 

Stevens: Williams and Dace, working together as a team, something Mental and Flesher failed to do when they were in control.

 

Riley: That's because they didn't have to work as team, Flesher's the World Champion, he could take them both on at the same time if he had too.

 

Danny takes Mental by the arm, and whips him out of the corner with authority, while Dace simultaneously explodes out of his....

 

CRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!!!

 

Dace blasts Mental with a Running High Kick as the Judge speeds at him against his will!

 

Stevens: YAKUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUZA KICK!!!

 

Dace collapses on Mental, tightly hooking his legs for the pin!

 

 

 

"ONE!"

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"TWO!"

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

................

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"THREE!"

 

 

 

 

NO! Mental somehow gets a shoulder up in the nick of time!

 

Slamming his fist into the mat in frustration, Dace rolls back to his feet waving his arms at Judge, yelling for him to get to his feet.

 

Stevens: Dace is looking to finish Mental off, could this been the end now?

 

Flesher stumbles to his feet on the outside as Justice mimics him, standing up in the ring. Groggily turning round, Judge finds a boot driven into his gut like a spear, doubling him over and leaving him gasping for breath.

 

Riley: Come on Tom, save the day!

 

Glancing out across the ring, Deathwish backs up into the ropes and rushes past his partner, diving across the head and elbow first through the ropes to the outside.

 

CRRRRAAACCCKKK! CLANK!

 

Stevens: ELLBBOOOWWW SSSUUUCCCIIIDDDDAAA! Flesher is down and out, he can't make the save.

 

Wrapping his arms around Judge's waste, Dace drags a barely conscious Mental up over his shoulder, letting out an ear splitting roar.

 

FUCK YOU!

 

Before sending Judge Mental plummeting head first to the mat, like a rail spike into the dirty. Judge balances on his head for a moment before toppling over onto his back with a deafening cheer from the fans.

 

Collapsing down over the Tag Team Champ, Horrorcore makes a cover as Soapdish slips in to count the fans call.

 

 

"ONE!"

 

 

 

 

 

"TWO!"

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"TTTHHHHHRRRREEEEE!"

 

DING! DING! DING!

 

Funyon: Ladies and Gentlemen, here are your winners .. DANNY WILLIAMS and DACE NNIIIGGGHHHTTT!

 

Stevens: Dace does it. A measure of revenge over the Magnificent Seven, and way of showing they can be beaten!

 

Riley: They cheated, they damn well cheated! Williams attacked Flesher on the outside, stopping him from going in and making the fair save on his partner.

 

Rolling out of the ring, Dace picks up the HGC and ICTV Title Belts, as he and Danny throw a pair of birds to the two M7 members, before slowly making their way up the ramp, in victory.

 

Fade out.

[Guest Suicide King]

As we fade in from commercial break, we hear the click-clacking of buttons being pressed frantically, before being treated to the latest in computer graphics as a pixellated Suicide King proceeds to make "Grand Slam" his bitch. PAUSE suddenly appears on the screen and the camera wheels around to reveal the beatific smile of the Suicide King, our one and only ever-lovin' Commish! The boos rain down, the smile grows broader, and King gestures for the camera man to come in closer...

 

"That's right folks. SWF Lockdown, available wherever quality video games are sold. Now you too can stop pretending and actually feel what it is like to be the single most talented performer to grace any ring, digital or otherwise!"

 

The cameraman says something inaudible, and King glares at him with very real venom...

 

"No, me! Jackass... anyway, a moot point. I'll get back to feeding Stevens his necktie here in a moment, but first a last minute update on tonight's main event, and the most eagerly anticipated match at 13th Hour, the Suicide King versus Neilsen of the Jungle!"

 

The grin widens until the top of King's head threatens to fall off as he actually chortlers with glee.

 

"Sadly, as a direct result of the injuries sustained during this past month of competition, Neilsen will be... unable to compete at the PPV. In fact, he may be unable to compete ever again. It's a real shame as I was looking forward to pulling his cargo shorts up over his head, but life handed us lemons, and I'm making some Lynchburg Lemonade baby! Suffice to say that if Neilsen ever manages to bribe a doctor with enough money to return to active competition, I'll be happy to hand him his ass then and there."

 

King's smile fades for a moment as a serious cast comes over his face...

 

"And now, regarding tonight's main event... I booked this match under duress, as Danny Williams demanded a challenger appropriate to his stature as the ICTV Champ. Well, I thought it over, and in retrospect neither Wildchild, Jay Dawg, nor Beezel are good enough. So, I'll just pick some jobber to feed to Deathwish at the PPV. But that leaves you without a main event for tonight, you say? Never fear! It just so happens I took a video from my personal collection to entertain you this evening, and to get you in the mood for another spectacular PPV, SWF style!"

 

The camera zooms in on King's face.

 

"Watch in awe as I beat not just Magnifico, not just Thugg, but both in a no DQ handicap match! May it inspire you to the greatness that it has inspired so many other aspiring wrestlers to..."

 

"Night!"

 

 

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

 

As we return from commercial break, instead of the announce desk and the dubious comfort of Curry and NTD, instead we are treated to a more interesting scene. The King of Hearts stands alone in a faintly lit room… his eyes are cast downward toward the floor. His breathing, originally slow and even, begins to increase, becoming more and more intense until he is practically spitting each breath out of his body. Finally, as if he’s reached some sort of high water mark he slams his fists together HARD! Turning to face the camera with a steady gaze, the King of Hearts stands for a long, long moment…

 

And smiles.

 

Cut back to the announce desk and our very own heterosexual lifemates Curry and NTD!!!

 

“Well, I’d say that the Gambling Man is in the right frame of mind for tonight! He knows what’s on the line, and if anyone can do come up a winner against these sorts of odds it’s him!” Curry notes approvingly.

 

“Are you high?” NTD asks incredulously. “Did you actually take the time to look over the card and see the main event? King has to take on not only the biggest, baddest monster in the league (who just also happens to be the ICTV champ by the way) but also the most dominant lightweight the IGNWF has ever known, namely the World champ El Luchador Magnifico!”

 

Curry sighs, “Yes, o pantless font of information, I did happen to see the card. And I agree that as talented as the King is he’s going to need direct intervention from Lady Luck herself to pull out a win tonight. But dammit, I believe in him! The fans believe in him!”

 

NTD interjects, “Stubby believes in him is what you mean! It’s clear what’s going on here… King is blatantly taking advantage of the co-commish’s favoritism!”

 

Curry looks at NTD for a long moment. “Excuse me NTD… if Stubby likes King so much, if he is deliberately stacking the deck for him if you will… I have one question.”

 

“And what is that?”

 

“A handicap match against the Thugg and ELM? That’s no DQ? This is a sign of friendship?” Curry notes smugly.

 

“Um…”

 

“I can see it now… a lovely little Hallmark card for Friendship Day! ‘You’re my best friend! Have fun getting your ass kicked by a large black man and his angry Mexican friend!’ It’s clear to me and to everyone at home that Stubby is making the King earn his shot at the belt tonight!”

 

“Ok… you can shut up now.” NTD responds, clearly annoyed.

 

“Well, luckily I have no choice in the matter, as it is time to start the dance! Strap yourselves in at home folks because this may be one bumpy ride!”

 

Funyon stands alone in the ring, looking for all the world like he has someplace else he’d rather be. Perhaps it’s home, as far away from the blast zone that will soon be the wrestling ring. In any event, the man does his job… “Ladies and gentlemen, the following is a handicap match scheduled for one fall, and there will be NO countouts or disqualifications!!! Introducing first, from Dayton, Ohio… weighing in at 221 lbs… he is the original Gambling Man, THE KING OF HEAAARRRTTTSSS!!!!”

 

A delicate female voice whispers, “Are you a gambling man…?” and the fans explode into life! The King’s trademark playing card appears rotating on the IGNtron for a moment or two… before a wall of crimson pyro bursts like a volcano from the stage!! The opening chords of the guitar-driven “Don’t Fear the Reaper” begin to play and the King of Hearts himself stands there… in one hand he clutches a black baseball bat. His head begins to bob to his music slightly as he soaks in the cheers of the capacity crowd…

 

“Why’s he bringing the Ace of Clubs out here?! The match is no DQ but it isn’t hardcore!!” NTD petulantly demands.

 

Curry laughs, “Heck, he probably should have brought a gun!”

 

The King flashes his trademark smile, but this time it stops just short of his eyes… it’s clear that he is ready! Wasting no time (and disappointing many female fans in attendance) the King sprints down the entry ramp, ignoring his usual pre-match autograph… quickly sliding the bat under the ring apron, the King hops up to the ring. With one last grin for the fans, he steps through the ropes as Funyon begins to introduce the opposition…

 

“Introducing second, representing the IGNWO… from Washington DC and Mexico City, weighing in at a combined 640 lbs… your ICTV champion, the Hville Thugg and the IGNWF Heavyweight champion, EL LUCHADORRRRRR MAGNIFICOOOOO!!!!”

 

The arena lights dim and the fans begin to jeer in earnest…

 

“Ah… ah.ah… ah… ah.ah… ah…”

 

“I am the king of this city, top down, windows down, puffing like diddy…”

 

The fans continue to boo their hearts out as the entry way fills with a thick fog that pulses in time with the blood red light behind it. “Summer in the City” continues to pound through the sound systems as the mist grows thicker… indistinct shapes can be seen moving around. Finally, after several long moments, the Hville Thugg bursts out of the smoke like a plesiosaur from Loch Ness! Following in his wake is the World Champ who appears unusually chipper, smiling like a bandito…

 

NTD exclaims, “Look at Magnifico! He knows he is about to put the hurt to the King like no one ever has before, and he gets to share it with a friend!”

 

“Isn’t that sweet?” Curry says sardonically.

 

The two men move slowly, purposefully down the entrance ramp, never for a moment taking their eyes off of the ring and their prospective prey… KoH for his part gestures at them from the ring to come on in. The two men proceed to ringside, staying far enough apart to discourage any suicide moves from the Suicide King. ELM slowly and ceremonially puts down his Mexican flag… and hands his belt off as an after thought. Thugg meanders to the other side of the ring, forcing KoH to divide his attention between two points… at two vastly differing rates of speed the two IGNWOers dive into the ring and the ref frantically signals for the bell!!!

 

DING DING DING!!!

 

Choosing the path of least resistance KoH immediately charges to meet ELM, greeting him with a harsh series of stiff stomps. ELM buckles, but the assault is short-lived as Thugg rams into King from behind like a runaway freight train!!

 

“Already the superior strategy and teamwork of the IGNWO is coming into play!” NTD squeals.

 

Unsurprisingly Thugg manages to wrench King off of the Pride of Mexico with little difficulty. Spinning KoH in place he throws a massive fist toward the Gambling Man’s head, but King ducks it! KoH responds in kind, firing volley after volley of stiff right hands into the chin of the Thugg. No one punch has much effect, but the force and frequency of the lightning fast blows force the big man back a few steps… backing Thugg into the nearby ropes, KoH whips him across the ring, but before Thugg even has time to cross the ring ELM is back up, and fires a dropkick right into the King’s back! King is knocked forward several paces, his forward momentum absolutely no help to him when the Thugg bounce off the ropes and lumbers back, shaking the mat with each step and absolutely leveling the King with a clothesline!! The crowd “Ooofs” in sympathy as the King is nearly beheaded… HVT wastes no time however, quickly lifting the woozy Gambling Man up. Bending him over, Thugg drops a huge forearm across KoH’s back, instantly knocking the man to his knees. HVT points to the corner turnbuckle, smiling without humor… Magnifico takes the hint, dashing across the ring and hopping up to the top turnbuckle before taking a seat.

 

“What do you get when you combine Magnifico’s speed and Thugg’s strength Curry?” NTD asks, smirking.

 

Resigned, Curry replies. “I don’t know. What?”

 

“An old school beatdown of Biblical proportions!!!”

 

HVT throws another forearm down on the King’s back, followed by another, each with the same predictable result. Lifting the pained King up fully this time, Thugg fires him towards the corner turnbuckle and the waiting luchador… quickly swinging his legs out of the way, ELM watches in satisfaction as KoH takes the impact hard on his already sensitive spine. Quickly locking in an inverted face lock, ELM leaps off and spins around, nailing the Suicide King with a textbook reverse tornado DDT!!! The back of King’s head slams into the mat as ELM quickly floats over for the cover…

 

1…

 

2…

 

No! KoH convulses, nearly throwing ELM into the air. Magnifico does not really seem to mind so much however, as he quickly lifts the King to his feet with a handful of hair. Smirking in the King’s face, ELM propels him across the ring and into the waiting arms of the Hville Thug… Thugg catches the rag doll formerly known as the King of Hearts and lifts him into the air, before dropping that sore back directly onto his freakishly huge knee!! KoH screams out loud in pain, waiting for the Thugg to drop him and go for the cover… but it may be a long wait…

 

“What is the Thugg doing?” Curry asks.

 

Maintaining his hold on the King, Thugg merely twists his grip around, this time dropping the King’s ribs onto his knee!!! Again the King cries out as ELM shouts approvingly from across the ring… twisting his grip one last time, Thugg lifts the King high above his head… and drops him stomach first onto that deadly knee!!! KoH impacts forcefully, nearly ricocheting off of the knee and onto his back and the cool, comforting canvas…

 

“My God, the Thugg is a monster,” Curry whispers. “A backbreaker, a rib breaker, and then a military press gutbuster all chained together? What sort of person would do that to another human being?!”

 

HVT drops to his knees, placing one humongous hand on the chest of the Suicide King for the cover…

 

1…

 

2…

 

No! The King of Hearts wriggles out from under that mammoth hand, barely getting a shoulder up. HVT looks confused for a moment, then shrugs… noting that ELM has again climbed the top turnbuckle, Thugg smiles. Lifting the Gambling Man upright once more, HVT carries him over to an area more receptable to an aerial assault… quickly lifting KoH up Thugg plants him back down with a bare basics sidewalk slam, before rising and moving out of the way… ELM stands bolt upright on the top turnbuckle, gesturing down at the fallen KoH as the fans boo. Taking a moment to show the fans what he thinks of them, ELM sneers around the arena, telling them all that there is nothing they can do to save their “hero.” Again taking the King’s measure, ELM springs off the top and touches fingers to toes, completing the frogsplash… THAT HITS EMPTY CANVAS!! The King just barely rolls out of the way as ELM splats into the mat… Magnifico clasps his stomach with both hands as he rolls about the ring, while KoH tries to lift himself upright with the help of the ropes…

 

“Watch out! Incoming angry black man!” Curry yells.

 

HVT plows toward the King with an angered expression on his face, preparing to squish him flat… the King, feeling the mat shake instantly drops back to the canvas, pulling the top rope down with him, AND THUGG GOES RIGHT OVER THE TOP ROPE, SLAMMING TO THE HARD OUTSIDE AND ROLLING TO THE BARRICADE!! The entire arena explodes into cheers as the exhausted Gambling Man gets to his feet and staggers toward the downed Magnifico…

 

“NO!!! Accursed momentum, why do you conspire against the IGNWO?” NTD asks no one in particular.

 

“Ok… that made absolutely no sense. But what does is that the King is back up and is ready to turn the tables on the World champ! Thugg is down and out for the moment! Can the King capitalize?” Curry yells into his mic.

 

KoH shakes his head to clear out the cobwebs, one hand still favoring his back slightly… moving over to the Pride of Mexico he takes a moment, waiting for the man to stand fully upright… ELM stands, unaware of his peril. Still mostly out of it ELM turns and is greeted by an earth-shattering shotei right to his sternum!!

 

“Heartbreaker!! Magnifico is on the run now!” Curry exclaims!

 

ELM gasps, all the breath knocked out of his body with that single devastating blow… KoH smirks and grabs Magnifico’s arm, tying in a tight arm wrench while ELM is still stunned. The Gambling Man looks to the crowd and gestures toward… the Champ’s crotch?

 

“What the pantless hell?” NTD wonders aloud.

 

Cinching his grip on that arm, KoH slides between ELM’s legs feet first, taking the trapped arm with him! Quickly getting to his feet behind the unfortunately positioned champ, KoH again looks to the crowd, BEFORE REACHING DOWN WITH BOTH HANDS AND SLAMMING MAGNIFICO’S TRAPPED ARM INTO HIS OWN CROTCH!!!

 

The arena goes silent for a moment in appreciation of Magnifico’s loss, before exploding into cheers!! ELM’s face goes white as death as he tries to curl into the fetal position, but King’s grip is too tight to allow release!!

 

Curry laughs out loud! “Pumphandle low blow!! Now THAT’S entertainment!”

 

KoH smirks again, before once again slamming ELM’s arm into the promised land! This time Magnifico jumps into the air from the force of the blow, somehow growing even whiter… KoH’s smile broadens as he pumps Magnifico’s arm again, and again, each time driving ELM into the air from the strength of the blow…

 

“It’s like he’s leading him on a leash!” Curry chuckles.

 

“Shut up! That is no way for an IGNWF wrestler to behave!” NTD sulks…

 

“No DQ NTD! The King has turned Magnifico into a Mexican jumping bean!!”

 

As amused as he and the crowd are by ELM’s plight, KoH finally ends it after the fifth blow. Lifting the trapped Mexican high into the air by his trapped arm, KoH slams him down onto the mat with a swift pumphandle drop, and goes for the cover!!

 

1…

 

2…

 

AND THE KING IS PULLED RIGHT OUT OF THE RING BY THE HVILLE THUGG!!! HVT pulls the King right out in front of him and proceeds to decimate him with fists the size of hamhocks! KoH is rocked back against the ring apron by the big man who seems content to beat the King’s face until it is no longer recognizable. Tiring of this simple sport, Thugg grabs the King’s arm and pulls him closer, again leveling him with a powerful clothesline!! Wrapping both massive mitts around the fallen King’s throat Thugg lifts the King back upright and throws him spine first against the steel steps so hard that the top portion is knocked clear!!

 

“Kill him Thugg! He may have prevented the world from seeing any little Magnficitos!!!” NTD screams.

 

The Gambling Man again is clearly favoring his back after that tremendous shot. Thugg approaches him again, slowly, surely… but KoH lashes out with a boot to the Thugg’s abdomen! Thugg’s face doesn’t even appear to register as KoH fires kick after kick to the man’s six-pack… spreading his arms wide, Thugg smiles down at the tiny King of Hearts. KoH looks weak as he realizes Thugg is inviting him to take as many shots as he’d like…

 

“He’s not human!” Curry notes. “He just doesn’t feel pain!”

 

Cocking his leg back, KoH prepares to fire one last shot at that abdomen, and Thugg seems more than willing… KoH readies himself… and instead powers his whole body forth, plowing a shoulder right into HVT’s jumblies!! Thugg’s eyes widen as he sinks to his knees…

 

“I stand corrected. He is human, where it counts at least,” Curry smugly notes.

 

KoH staggers around behind the Thugg, wrapping one massive arm in a half nelson and pulling the other out…

 

“Jokers Wild!! The King is going to Jokers Wild Thugg right onto the steel steps! He’s looking to take Thugg all the way out of the match and into the hospital!!” Curry yells in anticipation.

 

As the fans cheers grow to a fevered pitch, KoH rears back and sweeps the Thugg forward… BUT HVT DOESN’T BUDGE!!!

 

“Yes! Thugg Life is invulnerable!!” NTD screams like a fanboy.

 

KoH looks around in dawning horror as Thugg rises to his feet, lifting the King upright by the same hold he had locked in… grabbing King’s arms to make sure he can’t go anywhere, Thugg backs up with all his strength, slamming the King’s spine against the barricade!!! KoH sinks down, down to the ground… it’s clear that the man is almost completely out of it. HVT turns and it is quite apparent that any pain the man had been feeling is quite, quite gone now. Lifting the Gambling Man upright, he shoves his head between his legs… lifting the King up, he just as quickly throws him back down in a snap powerbomb!! KoH’s injured back again meets the hard concrete as he lays there motionless…

 

“This is too much! Stop the match!” Curry exclaims. ‘He’s trying to kill him!”

 

Satisfied, Thugg lumbers over toward the announce table…

 

“That’s it. I’m gone,” Curry says hurriedly and ducks beneath the table…

 

Grabbing the timekeeper by the throat HVT throws him to the ground before taking his chair and heading back toward the Suicide King… standing over him, Thugg raises the steel chair high above his head, preparing to bring it down as many times as he needs to finish the job once and for all!! Thugg brandishes the chair, but the King’s legs spring to life as if they have a mind of their own, wrapping around the Thugg’s ankles and dropping him to the ground!! HVT’s eyes register what is coming for a brief moment before his head slams into the ground, with the steel chair he had been holding as his only cushion!!! The entire arena pops like a porcupine’s inflatable girlfriend as the giant is brought low!!! The King of Hearts slowly, gingerly gets back to his feet. He reaches for the chair, shoving Thugg’s head aside to get at it. Instantly the crowd’s cheers change to screams of warning as KoH fails to notice the recovered Magnifico has slid out of the ring behind him! KoH turns with chair in hand and Magnifico leaps, PLOWING THE STEEL CHAIR INTO THE KING’S FACE WITH THE SPANISH CONQUESTER!!!! The chair bounces off with a metallic thud as KoH drops to the ground once more… grabbing the Suicide King under the arms, ELM forces him into the ring and rolls in behind him… quickly running to the corner, ELM climbs upright and pauses for only a moment before leaping into the air, sailing forth while flipping backward and nailing the Mexican Pride Press dead to rights!!! ELM quickly hooks the leg…

 

1…

 

2…

 

“KING KICKED OUT!!! KING KICKED OUT!! HOW THE HELL DID HE DO THAT?!” Curry screams as the fans explode! ELM looks on in obvious disbelief as he screams at the ref in a stream of angry Spanish… meanwhile, the Thugg crawls back into the ring, slowly even for him. However, with him he brings Magnifico’s Mexican flag…

 

“Oh, I can’t watch…” Curry despairs.

 

“I can! Bring it on!” NTD rejoices!

 

Thugg cradles the flagpole like a baseball bat as he gestures at ELM to raise the Gambling Man up. Slowly lifting the King like the sack of potatoes he resembles right now, ELM raises KoH up and whips him toward Thugg…

 

“He’s swinging for the fences!” NTD screams.

 

AND THE THUGG STRIKES OUT AS KING SLIDES UNDERNEATH THE BLOW AND RIGHT OUT OF THE RING!! HVT swears out loud as KoH doubles over outside, trying to catch his breath. ELM says something to the bigger man, who nods. Outside the ring it’s difficult to see what the Gambling Man is doing as he kneels next to the ring apron in a near fetal position… Magnifico readies himself. KoH finally stands semi-upright and Magnifico charges across the ring, leaping over the top ropes…

 

AND GETTING NAILED IN THE BREADBASKET WITH THE ACE OF CLUBS!!! ELM clutches his ribs as his momentum slams him into the ground and then the barricade! KoH stands there, still clearly in a whole world of pain. Thugg looks at his fallen companion with something approaching amusement as he gestures with the flagpole for the King to enter the ring.

 

“I can already see where this is going. It’s shame when parents let their kids see too many damn musketeer movies,” NTD says.

 

KoH looks on in resigned acceptance. Sliding into the ring, he barely avoids Thugg’s first overhead shot which nearly tears a hole into the mat! Rolling to his feet, KoH brandishes his sword like a lightsaber (and judging by his flapping gums, making some sort of Darth Vader joke to the Thugg). Thugg grimaces and swings again, and again the King of Hearts narrowly avoids the blow.

 

“Thugg’s too slow NTD! Ain’t no way Thugg can hit him!”

 

Apparently the same thought has occurred to Thugg. Grinning the grin of the invulnerable, Thugg advances on KoH. The King lashes out with the Ace of Clubs, nailing HVT in the chest, but the monster keeps coming! Reaching out with one mammoth hand Thugg grasps the King around the throat…

 

“UNTAMED! Thugg is gonna chokeslam the King all the way to hell!” Curry screams!

 

KoH is frantic, trying to escape HVT’s grasp. Choking up on his grip he lays shot after shot into the arm and elbow of the Thugg, but he won’t loosen his grip! Lifting the King high into the air, Thugg prepares to bring KoH crashing back down to earth, when at the apex of his flight the King nails Thugg right in the side of the head with the Ace of Clubs, finally making HVT release the hold! The Thugg shakes his head, momentarily overcome as the King charges across the ring to rebound off the ropes… KoH bounces back, his bat raised high above his head. Thugg instinctively raises the flagpole to protect himself to no avail AS THE ACE OF CLUBS BREAKS THE FLAGPOLE IN TWO BEFORE SMASHING INTO THUGG’S CRANIUM!! The big man wavers, wavers… and falls to the cheers of the Vancouver audience!!!!

 

“Yes!! David killed Goliath! But that wasn’t a sling!” Curry says for no particular reason at all.

 

KoH sinks to his knees, placing his bat across HVT’s windpipe and attempting to choke the man out while pinning him!!!

 

1…

 

2…

 

MAGNIFICO CHARGES BACK INTO THE RING WITH A SUDDEN ELBOW DROP! KoH barely rolls out of the way (unfortunately leaving the Ace of Clubs where it lays), leaving ELM to crash into his partner!!! KoH stages back upright as ELM springs back up, bleeding slightly from the temple from the previous encounter with the ring barricade earlier. Looking down, Magnifico sees the broken fragments of his flag…

 

“That’s the second time the King has disgraced the great nation of Mexico by breaking that flag!” NTD notes.

 

Enraged, ELM charges across the ring! The King looks shocked at the expression on Magnifico’s face and only has time to barely lower a shoulder… and ELM is lifted up and over, and crashes into the ropes awkwardly! Attempting to free himself, Magnifico realizes what the sudden onset of cheers from the crowd means…

 

“Magnifico’s trapped in the ropes! The champ is helpless!!! Now we finally have a fair fight!” Curry exults.

 

Laughing at the champ’s predicament, KoH wanders over toward him. ELM tries to lash out, but his arms are too tightly caught and the ref is next to useless with his assistance! The Gambling Man pats him condescendingly on the forehead before noticing that somehow, someway the Hville Thugg is AGAIN rising to his feet!

 

“Sweet Jesus” is all Curry can say.

 

Looking at the Thugg with hopelessness in his eyes, KoH’s shoulders drop… before he looks at Magnifico’s broken flag. Suddenly, KoH’s grin returns in full force as he runs over to Thugg’s side as he bounces off the ropes, springing forth and nailing the Thugg with a dropkick that actually drops the big man to his knees! Reaching down and grabbing the Mexican flag, KoH rolls away… running around behind Thugg KoH springs up to the top turnbuckle while tearing the flag free of its housing in the pole! The Gambling Man tosses the stick over Thugg’s head to distract him for that crucial nanosecond… ELM screams a warning, but alas, the Thugg doesn’t speak Spanish!!! Thugg regards the flying stick for a moment before all goes black, AS THE KING OF HEARTS THROWS THE MEXICAN FLAG OVER HIS HEAD!!! THUGG STAGGERS AROUND, CONFUSED, AND THE KING LEAPS OFF THE TOP TURNBUCKLE, FLIPPING FORWARD AND GRABBING THUGG’S HEAD ON THE WAY DOWN, COMPLETING THE SOMERSAULT DIAMOND CUTTER!!!

 

“ANTE UP!!! ANTE UP!! THE KING JUST PUT THUGG’S LIGHTS OUT FIGURATIVELY AND LITERALLY WITH THE ANTE UP!!” Curry yells like a madman!! “This one has got to be over!”

 

KoH rolls the enshrouded Thugg over to what he assumes is his back… the ref breaks off from helping ELM escape as the pinning predicament unfolds, leaving Magnifico to scream impotently from the ropes…

 

1…

 

 

 

 

2…

 

 

 

 

3!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

 

 

DING DING DING!!!!!!

 

The entire Vancouver audience explodes into cheers as Funyon announces, “The winner of this bout, and NEW NUMBER ONE CONTENDER TO THE HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPIONSHIP, THE KING OF HEARTS!!!!!”

 

KoH raises his arms to the crowd as Magnifico glowers from his captivity… smirking to the champ, the Gambling Man mouths, “Be seeing you later, champ,” and slides out of the ring, eager to make an exit through the crowd before other irate IGNWOers show up to the rescue…

 

“He did it!! The King of Hearts once again defies the odds and walks out a winner, and this time it means his shot at the gold!” Curry says.

 

“It wasn’t fair! He didn’t pin Magnifico! He’s never pinned Magnifico! He will never pin Magnifico!!!” NTD bitches. “He beat Thugg, not Magnifico!”

 

“He beat them both NTD, and now the Gambling Man will get his chance for greatness in the business!!!” Curry smirks.

 

“He’s gonna have to go through hell just to survive long enough to get that chance at the belt I can assure you Curry!”

 

“Maybe so… how will the IGNWO respond? And how will Stubby respond to their response? Find out on IGNWF Storm!”

 

As the picture fades from view, the last thing we see is Chris Wilson helping Magnifico free from the ropes. As ELM is freed, he looks toward the crowd at the path the Suicide King took to escape…

[Guest Suicide King]

A good show overall, barring the triple no-show for the main event. Still, I covered best I could.

 

PPV card will be up in the wee hours.