Guest Suicide King Report post Posted June 23, 2003 13TH HOUR 2003!!! AN SWF PAY-PER-VIEW EXTRAVAGANZA! Sunday June 22nd, matches due at 10 pm! Live from the Pengrowth Saddledome in Calgary, Alberta, Canada! Theme song "Seven Nation Army" by the White Stripes! Arena décor: Clocks, hourglasses, sundials, etc., all stylized and in all sizes. New faces will arrive... Old faces will return... For some, their time is NOW. For others, their time is... up. FEATURING… Beezel vs. Crow vs. Renegade vs. Johnny Dangerous vs. Stryke A fatal fiveway for the chance to face the ICTV Champion!!! Two returning veterans, eager to prove that they still have what it takes. Two current competitors, desiring to make these unwelcome additions earn their keep. And one new arrival, ready to show them all what wrestling is all about... five forces collide, with the winner becoming the new #1 Contender to the ICTV Title! Description: All five men start in the ring. Elimination style (that is, pins and submissions eliminate). Normal rules apply, and a DQ or countout will get you eliminated. Sean Atlas vs. Mike Van Siclen For pride, and the chance to wipe that damned smile off of his face once and for all... in a Caged Fury match! Issues have been heating up fast between these two proud warriors, and matters have come to a head at 13th Hour! Let's see which man will prove superior, and which man will become just another footnote in history. Description: Steel cage match with the following rules: No door is provided for exiting the cage. Competitors may leave the cage over the top, but may not win the match this way. No DQ or countout in effect, but competitors can only win the match by submission. Jay Dawg vs. Va'aiga For a shot at a little hardcore mayhem! Jay Dawg's fortunes have plummeted of late, as the Hardcore Maniac goes from defeating the World champion to losing to nearly everyone. Well, we'll return him to a more familiar element, and give him a shot at becoming the #1 Hardcore Gamers Contender! Assuming he can get past one large, vicious, Maori that is... a Maori with an awful lot to prove and an overwhelming desire to start off his career in the SWF with a resounding victory! Description: Hardcore rules, which is to say none. Falls count only in the ring. Longdogger Pete and Frost vs. Justice and Rule A return to glory, or a reaffirmance of dominance? The Tag Title are on the line! Pete seems to have done it, and the Icelandic Giant has once again been awakened! These two unlikely partners have a chance to do what no one else has done, namely, to dethrone the most dominant tag champs of recent memory! But Justice and Rule has another idea, one that involves a great deal of blood loss and you can be certain that it won't be theirs! Description: Standard tag rules. Remember the tag ropes people! Nathaniel Kibagami vs. Janus One man, one monster... but which is which? Kibagami's past has returned to haunt him once again, as a monster of his own making has come for him! Janus wants many things... revenge, a return to grace. But most of all, Janus wants PAIN. And Kibagami will feel it. Oh yes, he will! Description: No DQ match. Mak Francis vs. Michael Craven The US Title lays in the balance! Craven has quietly cemented his title reign, defending it against all comers and beating them all! But there is one man, a returning veteran, that he hasn't faced for a long, long time... can the Franchise put the Nightmare out of business, or will Craven send Mak back to the rehab ward? Description: standard rules CIA vs. Dace Night Only one man will be left standing... and he will be the Hardcore Gamers Champion! CIA returned with a vengeance earlier, and voiced a surprise challenge to the High Priest of Horrorcore! Well, Dace refuses no challenger! CIA will learn the hard way what horrorcore is all about! Description: To win you must render your opponent unable to stand for a ref's ten count. No DQs or countouts. Danny Williams vs. Wildchild No build-up, but it's none of our faults! Deathwish owns the ICTV belt. He will own it as long as he wants it. All signs pointed to Williams fighting for the tag titles at this PPV, so CC was left unprepared and had no challenger ready for him! This was unacceptable to Danny, who has a burning need to show everyone exactly how dominant he is! Wildchild heard this, and as the Bahama Bomber knows no fear he volunteered to face Williams for a chance at the title! Description: Standard rules apply. TNT vs. Tod deKindes Careers are on the line, and the rules are thrown out the window! Tod has apparently taken exception with TNT, costing him match after match and title after title, before knocking him out of the fed for weeks with an injury! TNT has had... just.. about... ENOUGH. Now these men will collide, and we will watch them EXPLODE! Description: No DQ. Falls count only in the ring. The loser will RETIRE. AND THE MAIN EVENT… THE BOSTON STRANGLER VS. "THE SUPERIOR ONE" TOM FLESHER IN A TWO OUT OF THREE FALLS MATCH FOR THE WORLD HEAVYWEIGHT TITLE! Only six weeks ago Strangler returned, and his impact has been immediate and apparent! Long unresolved issues have brought these two former compatriots against each other, but their current anger has everything to do with Flesher's baiting and abuse over the past few weeks! Can Flesher overcome this latest hurdle to his reign, or has Strangler's time finally arrived? Find out Sunday! Description: First man to win two falls wins. DQs and countouts are in effect. Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Guest Suicide King Report post Posted June 23, 2003 “Seven Nation Army” by The White Stripes blares around the jam-packed Pengrowth Saddledone in Calgary, Alberta, thousands of crazed canucks yelling their lungs out as the SWF’s latest Pay Per View extravaganza gets underway! But before the action can begin the camera floats down to the commentary team of Bobby Riley and “Grand Slam” Mark Stevens, preparing for the first match of a huge night of action. Stevens: “WELCOME EVERYONE TO SWF 13TH HOUR!!! Tonight we’ve got one of the biggest and most action packed pay per view events the SWF has seen in a long time, 25 superstars and 10 matches, this is going to be one hell of a wild night.” Riley: “For once you’re right Mark, 13th Hour promises to be one of the biggest events the Smartmarks Wrestling Federation has ever seen. Fans watching at home, put the kids to sleep, send the dog outside and take the phone off the hook, because you don’t want to miss a second of this.” Stevens: “We could talk for hours about the matches we’ve got lined up for you tonight, but as they say ‘actions speak louder than words’, so lets waste no more time and get right into the first match of the evening!” “I'll bring home the turkey if you bring home the bacon....” The voice of Rivers Cuomo is quickly drowned out by the raucous Canadian fans in attendance, the volume of the crowd only matched in volume by the huge sheet of red pyro that engulfs the entrance ramp. The smoke from the explosion of pyrotechnics blocks the crowd’s view for a moment, but as it begins to clear a red, orange and yellow blur darts out of the entrance, the Calgary fans up in unison for the appearance of Beezel! Funyon: “Ladies and Gentlemen, tonight’s opening contest is a FIVE MAN ELIMINATION MATCH, with the winner becoming the new #1 CONTENDER to the ICTV CHAMPIONSHIP! Making his way to the ring first, weighing 205 pounds from Phoenix, Arizona, representing CATCH-22, this is BEEZEL!!!” “I'm a lot like you, so please, hello... I'm here... I'm waaaaaiting. I think I'd be good for you, and you would be good for me!” El Scorcho quickly darts to the ring, sliding inside and popping right up to his feet, raising his arms to the already pumped up crowd. Stevens: “There’s a lot to be said about each man in this match, but there’s no better place to start than with the man who would have to be considered the favourite, former Hardcore Gamers Champ Beezel.” Riley: “Please. Some nutball in a leftover Halloween costume who has to hide his identity doesn’t deserve to be the #1 Contender to the ICTV belt. I’ve seen the other men in this match, and Beezel ain’t going to win, that’s for damn sure.” Stevens: “Well it didn’t take you long to start letting your idiocy shine through. Beezel’s as talented in that ring as anyone in the SWF today, he’s come close to the ICTV title in the past, and you know the leader of Catch-22 will do whatever it takes to earn another shot. In a wild non-stop match like this Beezel’s flash and flare will be an asset, he’s as quick as a bullet and just as deadly, this could be the beginnings of a big night for Catch-22.” Beezel moves to one corner of the ring and focuses his attention back on the entrance, awaiting the arrival of his four opponents. He isn’t left waiting long, as the arena falls into darkness, “Burn in Hell” by Dimmu Borgir beginning to play, its windy sample shaking the audience. *BOOM!* A row of fire explodes across the stage as the song breaks into the heavy thrash riff! The crowd goes up in approval as a spotlight turns on and directly focuses on the stage... revealing the Antichrist Superstar, Crow, standing on the ramp with arms spread horizontal in a crucifix pose. The bell tolls and the riff turns slows tempo as Crow drops his arms down to his side and begins to walk down to the ring, smoking his cigarette as he heads down the aisle. Funyon: “And now making his way to the ring, weighing 231 pounds from Adelaide, Australia, the Antichrist Superstar, CROW!!!” As the crowd cheers Crow slowly steps up the steel steps, putting his cigarette out on the turnbuckle as he steps through the ropes. He walks over to his turnbuckle and sits down, leaning back against it, casually glancing at Beezel and back at the entranceway as he mentally prepares himself for his first match in the SWF. Stevens: “And here’s the first of two bumpees fresh from the Junior Leagues tonight, the Antichristian Phenomenon, Crow. He received a warm welcome from the crowd tonight, but to those who don’t follow the JL it’s up to Crow to make them cheer his name. Tonight is his opportunity to make a name for himself in the big leagues, he’s a blank canvas, and a good performance here tonight can paint a picture the fans won’t readily forget.” Riley: “From what I hear Crow comes with the highest recommendations from the JL, only the Hville Thugg could match Crow’s dominance as JL World Champion. But no matter how good you were in the JL, this is an entirely new ballgame. In a match as unpredictable as this, and with a shot at the ICTV title on the line Crow is going to face a steep learning curve, and if he’s not careful he’s going to get a rough introduction to the way we do things here in the big leagues.” Crow and Beezel keep on opposite sides of the ring, neither making a move for the other as “Get To The Gone” by Static-X kicks into action, a big pop emanating from the crowd as they cheer the return of Renegade! Stevens: “Renegade’s back in the SWF! We haven’t seen the former X Force 9 member in a long time, but he’s back and ready to pick up where he left off, he’ll want to remind the fans just how good he is.” Renegade stands atop the stage, looking down at his feet before lifting his head and giving out a self high-five, the crowd deafening as Renegade quickly moves to the ring, Funyon continuing the introductions. Funyon: “The next man in this contest, weighing in at 260 pounds and hailing from New York City, welcome back RENEGADE!!!” Renegade rolls into the ring and climbs the second turnbuckle to do another self high-five, before hopping down and stretching against the ropes, getting ready for his first SWF match in almost a year. Riley: “Renegade is easily the biggest man in this match, both in weight and height, everyone else is either cruiserweight size or in the case of Crow close to it, Renegade’s strength advantage will give him a good chance to come out on top tonight. We don’t know what Renegade’s been doing while he’s been gone though, he could have been in the gym everyday or sitting on the couch eating pork rinds, so until we see him in action we won’t know just how much ring rust will be affecting him.” Renegade, Crow and Beezel all remain in their respective corners, having never been in the ring with each other at any point they size up their opposition. Their attention is quickly drawn back to the entrance though, a female voice seductively echoing over the crowd. “Johnny Dangerous…” The lights dim as the crowd goes up as one, the theme from “Mission Impossible 2” by Limp Bizkit rocking through the sound system as a colourful array of lights begin to dance all over the arena. It doesn’t take long for Johnny to join his adoring fans, wrestling’s premier spy stepping out onto the stage, surrounded by the clocks, hourglasses and other paraphernalia that makes up the grand 13th Hour entranceway. Funyon: “The fourth man in this match, weighing 210 pounds from Las Vegas, Nevada, a member of CATCH-22, this is JOHNNY ‘THE BARRACUDA’ DANGEROUS!!!” The big screen plays various clips of Johnny’s spy-like actions mixed with his in-ring fights, Dangerous striding down the ramp to the ring, though he stops to blow a kiss to a particularly lovely lady in the first row. With the crowd right behind one half of Wild & Dangerous Johnny slides into the increasingly crowded ring, taking his spot in the only available corner, no man currently willing to make the first move, at least until the final participant makes his way out. Stevens: “Johnny Dangerous has found his fair share of success in the tag ranks teaming with Wildchild, who we’ll see later on tonight, but right now Dangerous has the chance to make his mark in singles competition. He hasn’t been in the greatest form when it comes to wrestling in singles, but what better way form him to turn that around then with a big win right here and now, catapulting himself to #1 contender to the ICTV title.” Riley: “That’s much easier said than done Mark, I don’t think Dangerous can overcome the four men he’s up against tonight, but I’ll be the first to admit stranger things have happened, the SWF’s thrown the dog into the yard, now we just have to see if he’ll fight. A shot at the ICTV belt should be more than enough incentive though. Well four men are in the ring, and if my maths skills are correct there’s only one man left to arrive.” The lights go out in the arena, and a moment later LL Cool J’s “Mama Said Knock You Out” starts up, a huge wall of blue and silver spraying up all across the stage as the lyrics begin. The sparks and smoke clears, revealing none other than the former tag team and two-time hardcore gamers champ Stryke! Stevens: “And here’s the second returnee involved in this match, Stryke! He’s been missing in action since a little after Clusterfuck, but at 13th Hour he’s back in the fold, ready to once again leave his mark on the SWF.” Blue and white spotlights dance over the stands as Stryke is greeted with a hostile response from the crowd, but Stryke pays little attention to the boos raining down on him as he quickly moves to the ring, Funyon starting his spiel. Funyon: “And finally, weighing 219 pounds from Sydney, Australia, STRYKE!!!” Stryke quickly slides into the ring, but stops in the middle of the ring, Stryke left standing in the open as Crow, Dangerous, Beezel, and Renegade occupy all corners of the ring. Riley: “Stryke is my horse tonight, he’s going to come out on top, I’m feeling it. When he’s on his game he’s as good as anyone to have stepped foot in an SWF ring. These idiot fans may only have memories that go back a few months at best, but I’m sure Stryke will remind them just how good he is tonight.” Stevens: “There’s no doubting Stryke is talented, but just like with Renegade his time away from the ring could mean he’s covered in ring rust, but until the match starts we won’t know. There’s also the issue of which Stryke is going to show up, the motivated Stryke who was soaring up the card when he was first bumped, or the lazy, seemingly not-caring Stryke we got during his short comeback late last year.” Riley: “Well with a shot at the ICTV Championship on the line you’d have to think Stryke will be ready and pumped up for this, he wouldn’t have come back if he wasn’t.” Stryke music fades and all five men get ready for the match, Crow pulling himself up to his feet as referee Matthew Kivell moves to the ropes to signal for the bell and get the match underway. Stevens: “Well we’re just moments away from this match getting started, and what a match it’s set to be. Five men going at it at once, this is going to be a non-stop scramble from start to finish, you can’t afford to even blink during this one or you’ll miss the action.” Kivell signals to the timekeeper, the bell ringing to officially kick off SWF 13th Hour! DING DING DING! The second the bell rings all five men explode into action, the crowd cheering in approval as the match begins! Crow and Johnny Dangerous immediately make a move for each other, coming together next to the ropes, while Renegade charges towards Stryke. Stryke isn’t about to have any of that though, quickly diving to the ropes and rolling out to the floor, drawing a wave of boos from the crowd. Beezel’s the last to show his hand, and with Renegade’s attention focused on his one-time Havoc ally, Beezel comes up behind Renegade as he reaches the ropes, delivering a number of lightning fast martial arts kicks to the side of the larger man, sharp pains shooting through his body from the impacts. Stevens: “As expected action is all over the place to start, except for Stryke who doesn’t seem too eager to get involved, dropping out to the floor!” Riley: “It’s smart, Stevens. Keep fresh outside the ring while the others beat each other to a pulp inside. Some may call it cowardice, I call it intelligence.” Crow and Dangerous lock up together, and while both men have comparable strength, Crow uses his size and leverage advantage to push Johnny back, pushing him into the corner up against the turnbuckles. Meanwhile Beezel pushes Renegade off the ropes, using the momentum to whip him across the ring. Renegade rebounds back but immediately tries to recover, looking to clotheline Beezel’s head into the stands, but Beezel is quick enough to react, ducking underneath and letting Renegade continue onto the opposite ropes, before bouncing back once again. Beezel’s prepared for him this time though, jumping up and the middle ropes and springing back, catching Renegade right on the chin with a springboard dropkick! Stevens: “What a move from Beezel, Renegade sent down hard from a beautiful springboard dropkick!” As Renegade crashes to the mat at the hands of Beezel, Crow shoves Dangerous into the corner, breaking the collar-and-elbow tieup and wailing away on Johnny with a barrage of hard right hands. Dangerous does his best to block the punches of Crow, but Crow’s punches still hit home, the Antichrist Superstar isn’t about to give Dangerous a second to rest, pulling him out of the corner and lifting him up and over with a hiptoss! But Dangerous shows his athleticism, flipping over and landing safely on his feet! Before Crow can attempt to regain control Johnny drives a knee up into the midsection of Crow, driving the air out of him and stunning him enough for Dangerous to whip Crow to the opposite turnbuckle, Beezel lifting Renegade and pulling him out of the way just in time for Crow to fly across the ring and slam into the hard pads in the corner. Crow stumbles out, and walks right into a spinning heel kick from Johnny Dangerous! The crowd goes up as Dangerous takes Crow down, rolling on top for the first pin attempt of the match! ONE… TWO… T… NO! Crow is still far to fresh to be pinned at this stage, kicking out with little difficulty. Riley: “This match promised to be non-stop action, and it’s certainly delivering so far, the match has barely begun and already there’s something happening everywhere you look!” As Dangerous covers Crow Beezel has pulled Renegade up to his feet, before continuing to pound the larger man with hard kicks, Beezel’s martial arts past serving him well as he delivers a pair of hard shots to the body of Renegade. With Renegade reeling Beezel takes a step back before darting forward, going to take Renegade’s head off with a big roundhouse kick! Renegade’s prepared for this one though, ducking underneath and immediately shoving Beezel to the ropes, and as El Scorcho rebounds back Renegade picks him up and spins around, absolutely planting him into the mat with a powerslam! The crowd ‘OOOHHH’s at the impact, Renegade hooking the far leg for the cover, Kivell running over from Crow and Dangerous to count the pin. ONE… TWO… TH… NOO! The Catch-22 leader twists his body, getting his shoulders off the mat in time. Stevens: “It looked like Beezel’s speed and lightning-fast kicks had Renegade on the ropes, but Renegade comes right back with that powerslam, his power advantage really shining through there.” Meanwhile, while all the actions going on in the ring, Stryke continues to stand on the outside, taking his eyes off the ring and getting into it with the fans at ringside, trading insults with the Canada crowd. Stevens: “And despite the great action going on the ring Stryke still refuses to get involved, but wait a second, it looks like he may not have a choice in that…” Renegade gets to his knees and right away notices Stryke with his back turned, and Renegade seizes the opportunity as he moves to the ropes, sliding out to the floor unbeknownst to Stryke! Stryke notices the fans going up in cheers, but he turns just a moment too late, Renegade charging at him and levelling him with a stiff clothesline! Renegade slams down on the thin mat covering the concrete floor, but Renegade isn’t about to give him any time to lick his wounds, dragging Stryke up and running towards the ring steps, Renegade sending Stryke crashing knees first into the steel steps!! The crowd roars as the steps scatter out of position, Stryke flopping to the floor clutching at his knees in pain! Riley: “Now that’s not fair, Stryke was minding his own business and Renegade has to pearl harbour him, how’s that for sportsmanship.” Stevens: “It’s every man for himself, was Renegade supposed to just let him stand out there for the rest of the match?! Renegade saw an opportunity and he took it, it’s about time Stryke got involved in the match anyway.” As Renegade slowly paces over to bring Stryke back up, in the ring Dangerous on his feet and brings Crow with him, while Beezel crawls over to the ropes to get a moments rest while everyone else is busy. Dangerous returns the favour to Crow from earlier, rocking his head back with punch after hard punch, the crowd cheering with each punch landed. Crow stumbles back towards the middle of the ring, and Johnny looks for the knockout blow, running off the ropes for momentum before going for a spinning back fist! But milliseconds before Dangerous can connect Crow ducks down, Dangerous hitting nothing but air! Johnny turns back around, but now Crow is ready for him, catching Dangerous by the arm and pulling him over with an arm drag! Dangerous bounces off the mat, getting back to his feet, but Crow is now in control, locking his arms around Johnny’s waist and falling back, suplexing Dangerous over with a Northern Lights Suplex, holding onto the bridge for the pin! ONE… TWO… THR… NOOO! Dangerous is just able to break Crow’s bridge, drawing a cheer from the fans as Johnny Dangerous stays alive in the match. Stevens: “Crow may be more well known for his skills in a hardcore environment, but he’s showing there’s more to the former JL World Champion than that, a text book Northern Lights Suplex, executed to perfecting and almost scoring the elimination right than and there!” As Crow is pinning Dangerous Renegade reaches Stryke, dragging the reeling Aussie off the floor and tossing him under the bottom rope. Renegade quickly climbs onto the apron and steps through the ropes into the ring, following his prey as Stryke pulls himself up in the corner, desperately looking for any safety he can find, but it’s not to be as Renegade is right on him, delivering a flurry of punches in the corner. The crowd counts along with each blow, Stryke getting the life pounded out of him as he slumps further and further down into the turnbuckle, and the crowd couldn’t be happier. From there Renegade grabs Stryke and puts him chest-first across the middle rope, setting him in position for the Suffocation!! Riley: “Eep, this doesn’t look good for Stryke, Renegade’s about to rush Stryke’s neck across that rope!” With Stryke prone Renegade runs across to the other side of the ring, bouncing off the ropes and coming back full steam, jumping up and extending his leg across the back of Stryke! But barely before Renegade connects Stryke rolls off the rope to the side, leaving Renegade to land crotch first onto the rope! The fans ‘OOOHHH’ at the sight of Renegade’s testicular region landing across the rope, Renegade bouncing back onto the mat curled up in pain. Stevens: “Ooh, just when it looked like Renegade was in total control, but moves out of the way and all of a sudden things have taken a 180 and Renegade is in trouble. It just goes to show you, in a match as unpredictable as this you can’t rest on your laurels for even a second.” Renegade starts to stand back up, but Stryke is now ready for him, and right as Renegade reaches a standing base Stryke leaps up on his shoulders, snapping the larger man back to the mat with a swift hurricanrana! Stryke pops right back up to his feet, raising his arms to the crowd, which only serves to draw further ire from the crowd, boos flowing for Stryke. But all of a sudden the boos turn to big cheers, Stryke noticing a red, orange and yellow blur out of the corner of his eye, but by the time he reacts it’s too late, Beezel running in and jumping up, snapping Stryke down in a hurricanrana of his own! The crowd erupts as El Scorcho rolls right back to his feet, Stryke pulling himself back up, the Aussie seeing stars, and his problems only multiply as Beeze latches on a front facelock, dropping back and spiking Stryke headfirst into the canvas with a DDT! The fans are 100% behind Beezel as he floats over, pressing Stryke’s shoulders to the mat, Kivell on the spot to make the count! ONE… TWO… THRE… NNOOOOO!! Stryke just kicks his legs out, escaping the pin and living to fight on, his chance at the ICTV Title still alive. Riley: “Phew, come on Stryke, you’re my pick, you can get eliminated this soon.” Stevens: “If he did it would be his own fault, showboating after that hurricanrana allowed Beezel to show him just how a hurricanrana is done himself.” Beezel rolls off Stryke onto his back, before kipping up to his feet in one go, drawing a pop from the crowd. But as this is going on Crow is crouched down, watching the action between Stryke and Beezel after taking care of Johnny Dangerous. Crow wisely waits for his opportunity to strike, and right after Beezel kips up to his feet Crow charges, pivoting on one foot as he executes a roundhouse kick, aimed right to the side of Beezel’s leg, dropping him down to one knee. From there Crow seeks to finish the job, aiming a second deadly Das Wunder Kick right for the cranium of Beezel! Crow telegraphs it though, Beezel rolling forward and under the incoming kick, rolling right back to his feet, now going for a kick of his own! Crow turns in time to see it though, catching Beezel’s leg before it can make contact! Stevens: “Beezel went for one kick too many, Crow catching him mid-move!” Crow holds Beezel by the leg for just a moment, he realises every second he stands there increases the chance of Beezel fighting back, so Crow immediately twists down to the mat, pulling Beezel over with a Dragon Screw leg Whip! Crow keeps the pressure on, keeping hold of the leg as he stands and steps around it, looking to apply a figure-four leg lock! Riley: “Figure-Four time! If Beezel gets caught in this it may be good night for the leader of Catch-22, with the match under elimination rules nobody’s going to bother making a save, they’ll be just as happy to see him tap as Crow will be!” Crow gets about halfway through applying the hold, but before he can grab the second leg Beezel lifts it and pushes Crow off towards the ropes! Beezel turns over and pushes himself up as Crow comes back off the ropes, and at exactly the same time both men leap off their feet, the same idea flowing through each man’s head as they execute dropkicks, their feet hitting flush with each other as they flip back to the mat, mirror images of each other as they bounce back to their feet once again! Stevens: “Wow, Beezel and Crow are going move for move, neither man able to seize the initiative!” As the crowd go wild for the display they’re witnessing in the ring, it is Beezel who manages to reach his feet marginally quicker out of the two, allowing him to snatch hold of Crow’s hand and pull him forward, sending him to the ropes. On the rebound Beezel goes for a flying forearm, but Crow sees it coming and ducks underneath, only to run right into a lariat courtesy of Johnny Dangerous! Riley: “Beezel and Crow were so focused on each other they forgot about Johnny Dangerous. He’s had enough time to recover from the Northern Lights Suplex, and he just repaid Crow in a big way!” Beezel lands at the ropes after missing the forearm, pulling himself up and turning to lock eyes with his stablemate Johnny Dangerous! But instead of fighting it out Dangerous yells something out to Beezel, and it’s quickly apparent what they have in mind, Beezel stepping through the ropes out onto the apron as Dangerous drags Crow up and sets him for a suplex! Johnny lifts his woozy opponent skyward, holding him up for a vertical suplex, and it’s there that Beezel takes his cue, vaulting up onto the top rope and diving into the ring, crashing into Crow with a flying body press and driving Crow into the mat with extra impact at the hands of a combo cross body/vertical suplex! The fans go crazy for the innovative move, chants of “BEEZEL!” and “DANGEROUS!” mixed together as Crow writhes on the mat in a heap, Beezel keeping on top for the cover! ONE… TWO… THRE… NNOOOOOOO!!! Amazingly Crow finds the strength to kick out, the crowd cheering the resilience of the newly bumped WF’er. Riley: “What is this, Beezel and Dangerous working together? This is supposed to be every man for himself, this isn’t fair!” Stevens: “Since when have you ever cared about what’s fair? Johnny Dangerous and Beezel are both members of Catch-22, it only makes sense for them to work together to dispose of everyone else, when it’s down to just them, then they can go at it.” Riley: “Alright, so maybe it’s a smart idea, that doesn’t mean I have to like it.” Beezel and Dangerous get back to their feet, again making eye contact, before coming together and shaking hands, the fans cheering the solidarity of Catch-22. But it proves to be an error on Catch-22’s part, as Renegade and Stryke are up and sneak attack Dangerous and Beezel from behind, Stryke clotheslining Beezel down while Renegade grabs Johnny’s head from behind, snapping him down in a savage pulling neckbreaker, Dangerous clutching at his neck in pain, boos sounding forth from all corners of the Pengrowth Saddledome. Riley: “Ha, that’s what they get for that ‘shaking hands’ crap, take your focus off the match and you deserve to get your ass beat.” Both Renegade and Stryke pull their respective opponents as Crow rolls off to the apron to avoid the action in the ring, Stryke laying into Beezel with a mixture of punches and forearm shots, before irish whipping Beezel hard into the nearby turnbuckle. El Scorcho hits chest-first into the hard pads before stumbling back in pain, Stryke taking advantage of Beezel having his back turned by crouching down and picking Beezel up onto his shoulders in a torture rack position, Beezel staring up at the lights before Stryke drops to his knees, giving Beezel a backbreaker across Stryke’s back! Beezel flops to the mat like a fish out of water, arching his back in obvious pain as Stryke rolls on top for the cover! ONE… TWO… THRE… NNNOOOOOOO!! The masked man digs deep and finds the energy to kick out of the pin, Stryke showing obvious displeasure his torture rack backbreaker didn’t get the job done. Stevens: “It looked like Catch-22 were in control of this match, but just like that they’re on the defensive, Stryke and Renegade back in this one with a vengeance.” As Stryke puts down Beezel, Renegade has Johnny Dangerous up and runs him back into the corner, pinning him up against the turnbuckles before lowering his shoulder and driving it into the gut of Dangerous, repeated shoulder thrusts targeted right into the midsection of Dangerous, Johnny’s strength being sapped a little more with each shoulder from Renegade. Renegade isn’t finished with Dangerous yet though, pulling him out of the corner and hooking him for a suplex, displaying his power as he snaps Johnny over, Dangerous crashing to the mat at the hands of a snap suplex, Renegade rolling on top for the cover. ONE… TWO… THREE… NNOOOOOO!! There’s fight in Johnny Dangerous yet, kicking out and getting his shoulders off the mat. Riley: “Boy, I’m getting tired trying to follow all this action already, and we haven’t even had an elimination yet! And to think this is only the first match of the show, we’ve got a long night ahead of us.” Renegade gets back to his feet and leans down to drag Dangerous back up, but before he can do that Renegade is attacked from behind, blindsided by Stryke! Stryke slams the back of Renegade with a number of hard forearms, stunning the larger man enough for Stryke to turn him and hook for a suplex, lifting Renegade parallel to the mat before sitting out, dropping Renegade face first into the canvas with a sit-out reverse suplex! The Canada crowd boos Stryke mercilessly, but he doesn’t pay any attention to them as he hooks the far leg, Kivell counting the fall! ONE… TWO… THRE… NNOOOO! Renegade forcefully kicks out, tossing Stryke right off him! Stevens: “Looks like there’s no honor between thieves, Stryke and Renegade worked together long enough to take Beezel and Dangerous down, but the first chance he gets Stryke goes for Renegade when his back’s turned. I doubt Renegade will be too pleased about that.” Stryke gets to his feet as quick as his body will allow, locking a headlock on Renegade as he pulls him up to his feet as well. From there Stryke pushes onto the ropes, looking to send Renegade to the opposite ropes, but Renegade will have none of it as he keeps hold of Stryke and reverses the whip, sending him across the ring instead! Renegade goes for a clothesline on the rebound, but Stryke sees it coming, ducking under as both men continue onto the opposite ropes. Each man rebounds back, this time Renegade ducking down as Stryke leapfrogs over him! Strkye hits the ropes a third time, but Renegade stops in the middle of the ring, pivoting around, and as Stryke rebounds Renegade is prepared for him, catching him and dropping him face first onto his knee with a face crusher! A big cheer goes up as Stryke is jarred back violently, but he doesn’t go down as the momentum sends him back onto the ropes. Stryke is seeing stars, but foolishly tries to charge Renegade again, and now Renegade has set himself, ducking down and lifting Stryke over as if for a back body drop, but instead he grabs hold of Stryke’s legs, leaving the Aussie dangling down Renegade’s back, but not for long as Renegade snaps Stryke back over, the back of Stryke’s head hitting the mat hard at the hands of a pulling sidewalk slam! Stevens: “What a move from Renegade, slamming Stryke down with authority, but will it be enough to eliminate him as Renegade falls on top for the pin?!” Kivell is right on the spot, circling around and starting the count as the fans chant along! ONE… TWO… THREEE… NNNOOOOOOO!!! The fans audibly sigh at the closeness of the fall, Stryke oh-so-barely getting his shoulder up, Renegade slapping the mat as he lets a little bit of frustration out, thinking that should have been enough. Riley: “Look at the fight of Stryke, he’s not going down that easily. But I also think we can safely say Renegade and Stryke aren’t suffering much in the way of ring rust, so far they’ve been as impressive as anyone in this match.” Stevens: “Perhaps not yet, but as this match goes on if Stryke and Renegade are among the last few in the match they’ll start feeling the effects a little more than the others, being away from the ring for so long means their endurance and stamina won’t be what it once was.” Renegade stands back up, and looks to finish Stryke off for good, reaching down and grabbing Stryke’s legs, the crowd roaring to life as they se Renegade going for The Rage! Stevens: “The Rage! Renegade looking for his submission finisher, Stryke is in big trouble now!” Riley: “No! Come on Stryke, escape, you can’t lose!” Stryke frantically looks for a way to escape his predicament, but it’s taken care of for him as his salvation comes in an unlikely form, Crow getting back up on the other side of the ring, the Antichristian Phenomenon coming up behind Renegade and executing a lethal Das Wunder Kick, the hard roundhouse kick hitting flush of the back of Renegade’s head, Renegade dropping Stryke’s legs as the impact sends him stumbling forward, past Stryke to the ropes as he tumbles right out to the floor! Stevens: “Wow, Crow just scrambled Renegade’s brains with that roundhouse kick! Renegade didn’t see it coming at all, Crow sending him right out of the ring!” With Renegade disposed of Crow turns his attention to Stryke, who pulling himself up on the ring ropes. Crow doesn’t wait for Stryke to turn around though, coming up behind him and grabbing by the hair and the top of his pants, turning and running at the side ropes before launching Stryke clean over the top rope, a number of cameras flashing as Stryke soars through the air before landing unceremoniously, Stryke hitting the concrete floor back first! Stryke writhes on the floor in agony, his spine turned to jello after hitting the hard floor from that height! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! As Stryke cries out in pain on the floor the fans go crazier than monkeys on cocaine, loud ‘HOLY SHIT!’ chants slowly making way for chants of ‘CROW! CROW! CROW!’, the latest bumpee certainly earning some new fans in the crowd tonight. Crow isn’t finished yet though, focusing his attention on Johnny Dangerous as the spy starts to stand. Stevens: “Crow is just cleaning house in there, first Renegade then Stryke, and now his sights are set on Johnny Dangerous!” Crow makes his move towards Dangerous, but just before he can strike Johnny lashes out with his boot, doubling Crow over. Dangerous then steps in and hoists Crow up onto his shoulders, holding him up in a fireman’s carry! Holding him up Dangerous takes a few steps back, before moving forward and looking to flip forward and impact Crow back first into the mat! But marginally before Johnny can flip over Crow comes back, slipping off Johnny’s shoulders and landing on his feet. Johnny turns right around, but Crow is right there, catching Dangerous with a kick to the midsection this time. From there things just get worse for Mr. Dangerous, fans familiar with Crow’s Junior League work going up as Crow applies a front face lock and throws Johnny’s arm over his head, lifting him up and holding him upside down in position for the Natural Born Chaos!!! Riley: “All things must come to an end, and that’s just what’s going to happen to Johnny’s ICTV title chances here, Crow about to close the book on Dangerous with his Jumping Brainbuster Suplex!” Crow holds his victim up for just a moment, the fans on the edge of their seats in anticipation, before Crow jumps in the air, kicking his legs out and causing Dangerous to come down straight on his head at a neck-breaking angle, Johnny collapsing to the mat motionless as Crow delivers the Natural Born Chaos!!! The crowd noise is off the chart for the devastating maneuver they’ve just witnessed, Crow sitting back up and absorbing the adulation of the fans. Stevens: “NATURAL BORN CHAOS ON JOHNNY DANGEROUS!!! Crow just absolutely spiked him into the mat, this one is academic now.” Crow doesn’t waste any time as he rolls over and covers Dangerous, eyeing the first elimination for the match, the fans counting along with each slap of Kivell’s hand to the mat! ONE… TWO… THREEEEEEEEE…. BEEZEL MAKES THE SAVE!!!! Beezel leaps across from the corner and shoves Crow off Johnny, breaking up the pinfall!! Riley: “What the hell?!! Why did he do that, Beezel just saved Dangerous from elimination! We could be down to four!” Stevens: “Obviously Beezel wants to keep his Catch-22 stablemate in this! We saw them work together earlier, they must have plans to stick together to ensure they’re the last two remaining in this match, Catch-22 is going to ensure the ICTV title shot stays in their camp!” Crow gets up right away, very annoyed that Beezel stopped the elimination, and the Antichrist Superstar goes right for the masked man, letting out his fury by stomping the life out of El Scorcho, pounding his boot repeatedly into the body of Beezel. Crow then reaches down and pulls Beezel up, again applying a front face lock and lifting Beezel skyward, setting for another Natural Born Chaos!! Riley: “Beezel may have saved Dangerous from one Natural Born Chaos, but it looks like he’s going to inherit that fate himself, with Johnny’s lights still out I somehow doubt Stryke or Renegade will be so eager to save Beezel.” Crow holds Beezel in position, the fans going wild, but Beezel, having just seen what effect the move had on his stablemate shifts his weight, falling back and slipping out of Crow’s grasp! Beezel lands safely on his feet, immediately taking hold of row’s tights and rolling him up from behind! Kivell’s right there to count the pin! ONE… TWO… THREEEE… NNOOOO! Despite being surprised by the rollup Crow recovers in time to kick out, getting his shoulders off the mat in time. Both men get back to their feet quickly, but it’s Beezel that takes advantage of the situation, Crow charging but running right into a stiff Beezel kick to the fact, dropping the Australian like a sack of potatoes. Beezel keeps the pressure right on, putting a front facelock on Crow as he pulls him up to a doubled over position, holding him for a second before snapping to his side, bringing Crow to the mat with a spinning neckbreaker! Crow clutches at his neck as Beezel crawls over and makes the cover on Crow once again. ONE… TWO… THREEE… NNOOOO! Crow manages to fight through the punishment he’s taken in the match, thrusting his right arm up and getting his shoulder off the canvas. Stevens: “Crow continues to show his ability to take punishment, kicking out once more. I hear he’s been involved in plenty of violent matches in his time in the JL, so it’ll take something big to put him down for the count.” Beezel pops back to his feet with quickness defying the punishment his body has taken, looking down at Crow’s prone body before looking at the ropes, taking a moment to catch his breath before running at the ropes, jumping up on the middle rope and moonsaulting back into the ring with a lionsault! Beezel soars towards Crow, but while he’s in mid-air Crow finds the energy to roll towards the ropes, getting out of the way! Beezel sees it though, and incredibly El Scorcho manages to rotate over a little bit more, landing back on his feet! It isn’t a very stable landing though, Beezel stumbling back, which allows Crow, despite him still feeling the effects of the spinning neckbreaker, to pull himself up with the assistance of the ring ropes. Beezel regains his footing and charges, but Crow hears the increasing crowd noise just in time, turning to see Beezel coming at him! It’s the Antichristian Phenomenon that reacts first though, dropping to his side and taking Beezel down in a drop toe hold, Beezel sent throat-first across the middle rope! The fans ‘OOOHHH’ as Beezel drops to the mat, coughing and spluttering as he holds his throat in obvious discomfort. Riley: “Beezel getting a less than pleasant introduction to the ring ropes, he went for one flashy move too many and paid or it. I can barely keep up with all this action, and it looks like it’s about to pick up again!” Crow slowly stands in the middle of the ring, the pace of the match starting to take it’s toll, but all of a sudden the crowd comes alive once more, as on the outside of the ring Stryke is on the apron and scaling the turnbuckle, reaching the top rope! Crow turns around, just in time to see Stryke take flight, Stryke performing a frogsplash before crashing into Crow with a cross body, landing right in top for the cover! ONE… TWO… THREEEEEE… NNNOOOOOO!!! Once again Crow digs deep and finds the energy for a kickout, drawing a big round of cheers from the Calgary crowd, Crow refusing to say die! Stevens: “Stryke displaying his aerial ability there, a great move putting Crow down, but again the newcomer won’t stay down. Crow has probably taken more punishment than anyone in this match but he’s still in this one, his shot at the ICTV title contendership is still alive.” Riley: “They must be putting something special in the water down in the Junior Leagues, these bumpees seem to get tougher every month!” Stryke isn’t the only man to come back after a rest period outside, Renegade too sliding back into the ring, and with Crow down and the two Catch-22 members just starting to move on the other side of the ring Renegade sets his sights on the last man standing, Stryke. Stryke sees Renegade coming though, and goes to cut him off before he can try anything, Stryke going to decapitate Renegade with a superkick! Renegade has recovered enough to avoid it though, stepping to the side and catching Stryke in mid-move, holding him in position for a Capture Suplex! Renegade doesn’t give Stryke even a single moment to try and fight back, Renegade vaulting back and suplexing Stryke right on his head and upper back with a Capture Suplex! Stryke gets folded up like an accordian, and the fans love every second of it as Renegade turns Stryke over and pins his shoulders to the mat! ONE… TWO… THREEEEE… NNNOOOOOO!! Much like the other Australian in the match Stryke shows his resilience, kicking out with all the might he can muster and stopping the fall. Stevens: “Until there’s a few eliminations in this match it’s going to be very hard for anyone to be dominant for very long. You can do your best to keep an eye on all your opponents, but with four other individuals in the match it’s easy to lose sight of someone, and that’s just when they’ll get you as we’ve seen these last few minutes.” Renegade starts to stand, just as a huge cheer starts up from the crowd. But it’s not for Renegade, it’s for the two men that are getting to their feet behind him, the Catch-22 duo of Johnny Dangerous and Beezel! Renegade runs at the pair, looking to clothesline them both down at once, but Johnny and Beezel won’t have any of that, ducking under and pivoting around, and as Renegade turns around each man grabs a leg, dropping him on his back with a double leg takedown! It’s there that the real fun begins, Beezel and Dangerous hooking their leg with each of Renegade’s, before grabbing hands and rolling forward, snapping Renegade up and over with a double leg whip powerbomb, Renegade smacking into the mat with a loud thud, Beezel crawling over to make a cover as Dangerous gets to his feet and puts his attention towards Stryke and Crow. ONE… TWO… THREEEEE… NNOOOOO!! Renegade kicks out of the cover, Beezel only covering the shoulders and not hooking the legs, allowing Renegade to kick his way out without terrible difficulty. Riley: “Oh boy, looks like the numbers game is about to start up again, all of a sudden Dangerous and Beezel are the fresh ones, if they continue to work together it will spell trouble for the rest of the competitors.” Beezel stands back up and moves towards his stablemate, just as Crow is back up and charges towards the impromptu team of Beezel and Dangerous. Again they’re ready though, each stepping to the side and hooking arms with Crow, lifting him over with a double hiptoss! A ‘CATCH-22!’ chant starts up, the lone stable represented in this match starting to pick up steam as Stryke pulls himself up on the ropes, Dangerous moving across and rocking the returning superstar with right hands, before taking hold and setting him for a slingshot! The crowd cheers as Dangerous slingshots Stryke across the ring, sending him right into a cross body from Beezel! El Scorcho collides with Stryke with plenty of impact, crashing to the mat, but Beezel keeps his position on top for the pinning predicament! ONE… TWO… THREEEE…. NOOOOO! Stryke has the awareness to get his shoulders up once again, but with each blow he takes he grows wearier and wearier, the kickouts taking longer as the cumulative effect of the punishment he’s taken starts to eat away at him. Stevens: “Johnny Dangerous and Beezel are really starting to operate like a well-oiled machine now, beginning to use some moves you’d more commonly see done by Wild & Dangerous! I think Beezel’s decision to save Johnny from certain elimination earlier is starting to pay off, they may be able to dispose of Renegade, Stryke and Crow one by one!” Both Beezel and Johnny scan the chaos all around the ring, Stryke down in a heap as Crow slowly starts to move across the ring and Renegade is up on one knee. Beezel isn’t about to let him get up though, cutting him off and setting him in position for a slingshot of his own! Dangerous sets himself as Beezel slingshots Renegade towards his stablemate, Johnny charging at full pace and decking Renegade with a hard clothesline! You can just feel the electricity flowing though the crowd as Catch-22 turn up the heat on the match, Beezel helping Johnny pull Renegade back up off the mat before the pair shove him towards the ropes. Renegade is out on his feet but comes back due to the momentum of the ropes, sending him right into stereo dropkicks! Renegade collapses back to the mat exhausted as Catch-22 spring back up with renewed vigour, but they may have made a mistake by putting too much of their focus on Renegade, the crowd noise not warning Dangerous and Beezel in time as Crow charges for Johnny Dangerous, clotheslining him over the top rope, both Dangerous and Crow falling over the top and landing at the base of the rampway! Beezel moves towards them to help his stablemate, but he has problems on his own, Stryke coming up from behind and locking on a rear waistlock, snapping back with all the strength he can muster as Stryke plants the back of Beezel’s head into the canvas with a wicked German Suplex, holding onto the bridge as Kivell makes the count! ONE… TWO… THREEEEEE… NNNOOOOOO!!! Beezel barely rolls his shoulder off the mat, milliseconds before Kivell can count the three! The crowd roars to life as Beezel lives on, and Stryke is none too pleased about it, yelling obscenities as Kivell. Riley: “You tell him Stryke, that Kivell is a moron, that should have been three for sure.” Stevens: “Oh shut up, Riley, that was a fair count and you know it. Complaining to the referee won’t do him any good, and besides, it’ll take more than that to put a former hardcore champ like Beezel down.” Riley: “Well a two-time hardcore champ like Stryke will be more than willing to dish out as much punishment as it takes to win. We’ve seen him fly already, and that beautiful German shows he’s got the strength to back it up, I told you Stryke was my pick and I’m sticking with it.” Out at the base of the ramp Crow is on his feet, picking Dangerous up and leaning him against the ring apron, exposing his chest before lashing across it with a savage knife edge chop, the loud slap drawing the customary ‘WOOO’ from the crowd. Crow isn’t satisfied with just one though, delivering another knife edge chop, Dangerous yelling out in pain as he clutches at his chest, already starting to go red from the chops. Crow pulls Johnny out from the apron and sets himself for another hard chop, but something in the ring catches his eye, Crow dodging out of the way as Stryke runs to the ropes, leaping clean over the top with a suicide dive! Cameras flash as Stryke somersaults over, and although Crow managed to move Dangerous is right in the line of fire, Stryke landing right on top of him! Some of the crowd boo while others cheer the suicidal maneuver, Stryke and Johnny going down in a pile on the floor! Riley: “Suicide dive! Stryke just wiped out Johnny Dangerous, Stryke certainly isn’t shy about putting his body on the line to win.” The risky move from Stryke leaves him exposed, and Crow is right there to make the most of it, grabbing a handful of hair and he drags Stryke up and slams him face first into the ring apron! Stryke stumbles back wincing in pain as he holds his face, but Crow couldn’t give a damn as he grabs his fellow Aussie once again, putting his arm around his head for a Russian leg sweep before diving back, slamming Stryke back first into the guard rail! Stevens: “Stryke may have been a hardcore champ in the past, but it’s Crow making the most of the environment out there, Stryke’s back can’t be feeling good after being rammed into the steel rail.” Stryke falls back down to the concrete floor, the fans at ringside going wild, some trying to pat him on the back, others just yelling insults at Stryke. Crow meanwhile stands back up, but having focused his attention on Dangerous and Stryke it’s allowed Beezel to return to his feet, the Calgary fans on their feet as El Scorcho grabs the ropes nearest Crow and vaults over the top, landing right on top of Crow with a HUGE plancha to the outside, ‘BEEZEL!’ chants echoing all around the arena as he crunches Crow onto the hard floor! Riley: “Crow may have avoided one suicide dive, but he was hit with all of that one, Beezel getting massive air, I don’t think Crow ever saw it coming!” Leaving the carnage outside the ring Beezel slides back into the ring, Renegade starting to stir. As Renegade gets on all fours Beezel comes up beside him, driving a HARD kick right into the ribs of Renegade, sending him back onto the canvas, Renegade holding his side, visibly hurting. Stevens: “Those kicks of Beezel’s are just DEADLY, everyone who’s been on the receiving end of those will no doubt be bruised all over after this match is said and done.” With Renegade stunned Beezel drags him up off the canvas, pushing him off the nearby ropes and whipping him across the ring. As Renegade bounces off the opposite ropes Bezel jumps up on the rings behind him, springboarding off and looking to cut Renegade down to size with a flying clothesline! Renegade has different ideas though, and as Beezel flies towards him Renegade picks up the pace, lowering his head and absolutely spearing the shit out of Beezel in mid-air!! The crowd erupts, the decibel level off the chart as Beezel writhes on the mat in agony, Renegade just about breaking El Scorcho in half!! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! Riley: “Oh my god, Renegade just killed Beezel on that one, spearing him out of mid-air! There’s no way he can get up from that one!” Stevens: “Beezel may have underestimated just how much punishment Renegade has taken so far in this match, and he paid for it in a big, big way! Renegade makes the cover, this may be elimination number one!” Kivell circles into position, dropping down and making the count, the fans as loud as they’ve been all night as they count along! ONE… TWO… THREEEEEEEEE… NNNNNOOOOOOOOOOOO!!! Amazingly Beezel manages to kick out, the crowd noise incredibly increasing as they go crazy for Beezel, the leader of Catch-22 somehow, someway, finding the energy to fight on! Riley: “How the hell did he do that?! Beezel must have a bullet-proof vest on under that bodysuit, that’s about the only way anyone could kick out of that!” Stevens: “I don’t know about a bullet-proof vest, Beezel kicking out by sheer determination, but there’s no way he can be well after taking that huge Renegade spear, Beezel may be ripe for the picking right now.” Renegade can barely believe he didn’t score the pin but he’s smart enough to put it out of his mind and move on, slowly standing as he brings the dead weight of Beezel up with him. Renegade then simply applies a ¾ neckbreaker, the crowd sensing the end of the road for Beezel as Renegade drops down with force, drilling Beezel into the mat with the Renebreak!!! Riley: “RENEBREAK! If the spear didn’t put Beezel down for the count this definitely will, you won’t kick out of this at the best of times, let alone after taking the amount of punishment Beezel has.” Renegade turns around and rolls Beezel over onto his back, hooking the far leg for added leverage on the pin as Kivell makes the count. ONE… TWO… THREEEEEEEEE… WAIT!!! JOHNNY DANGEROUS PULLS RENEGADE OFF BEEZEL, BREAKING THE PIN!!! Riley: “Oh come ON! First Beezel saves Dangerous, now Johnny just has to return the favor, damn them and their comradery!” Stevens: “Just when you think the match is over something else happens! At this rate it’ll take a bomb blast to put someone down for the three!” Renebreak is fuming that Dangerous interrupted the pin, getting to his feet and catching Johnny in the gut with his shoulder, pushing Dangerous into the corner and driving his shoulder into his stomach with shoulder thrusts, the air being driven right out of Dangerous as he slumps back into the corner. Renegade moves back, lining Dangerous up once more, before charging, looking to spear him right into the turnbuckles! The fans rise as Renegage runs full pelt towards the spy, but at the last second Dangerous moves out of the way! Renegade’s eyes get big as he sees this, but it’s too late to halt his momentum as he runs shoulder first, right into the steel ring post! Riley: “He missed! Renegade just hit that ring post at full speed, that could break a collarbone! It doesn’t look like it did, but regardless Renegade is in a lot of pain!” Renegade stumbles back holding his shoulder in agony, but that isn’t his only problem, Dangerous hopping up onto the second turnbuckle, before jumping off at Renegade, hitting him flush in the face with a flying side kick!! Renegade drops like a bag full of kittens being thrown into a river, Dangerous falling on top for the pin! ONE… TWO… THREEEEE… NNNOOOOO! Despite the pain Renegade manages a weak kickout, just getting his shoulder up in time, but not by very much. Stevens: “Renegade kicks out this time, but I don’t think he can take much more punishment, he really needs to get out of there and try to regain his energy.” While Renegade and Dangerous go at it in the ring, Stryke pulls himself up on the floor outside, and Crow too starts to rise, Stryke looking to cut off his fellow Australian as he grabs his long black hair and moves to drive his face into the ring post! Crow will have none of that though, getting his hand up on the post and blocking it! Crow follows up by driving his knee up, catching Stryke in the ribs and stunning him enough for Crow to push him back against the guard rail, looking to whip him back-first into the ring apron! Crow whips Stryke towards the ring, but just before he can hit Stryke leaps up, landing on the apron! Crow moves in to try and stop any Stryke comeback, but as he does Stryke moonsaults back, landing behind Crow and catching him around the neck on the way down, holding him for a moment before dropping down, slamming Crow onto the thin mat covering the concrete floor with a reverse DDT! Riley: “What agility from Stryke! With barely any room to work with he jumps up to the apron and hits a magnificent moonsault to reverse DDT! Crow’s lucky they’re outside the ring otherwise he may be ready to be pinned!” With Crow down Stryke turns his attention to the ring, getting to his feet and climbing in as Dangerous puts a headlock on Renegade, pulling him up to his feet as well. Keeping the headlock on Dangerous runs forward, looking to bulldog Renegade into the mat! But finding whatever energy he has left Renegade manage to slip his head out of the back and push Dangerous away, sending him right towards Stryke, who presses Johnny up into the air, letting Dangerous drop onto his shoulders before snapping back to the mat with a high-impact Samoan drop, planting Dangerous with the Showstopper! Stevens: “Renegade shoved Dangerous right into the Showstopper! It just goes to show you how fast things can chance, a moment ago Johnny was firmly in control but now he’s down, and as Stryke makes the pin he could be eliminated!” Following the Samoan drop Stryke keeps laying on top of Johnny, Kivell counting the fall as the fans boo the though of Stryke eliminating Dangerous. ONE… TWO… THREEEEEE… NNNOOOOO!! Dangerous just gets a shoulder up, Stryke’s less than orthodox cover making it easier for Dangerous to escape the pin, much to the relief of the Calgary crowd. With Beezel lifeless at the edge of the ring and Crow half on the ring apron as he slowly tries to get himself back in, Stryke sees Renegade on his knees trying to get his breath back, but Stryke won’t allow that to happen, getting up off Dangerous and making a move for Renegade. But just as Stryke reaches him Renegade pops up, getting his hand in Stryke’s face and raking the eyes, stopping the Aussie in his tracks. Stevens: “Hardly the most honorable of strategies, but it’s effective, if your opponent can’t see he can be taken out easily.” Stryke clutches at his eyes in pain, and Renegade immediately looks to take advantage, getting behind the currently vision-impaired Stryke and pulling his head back, putting it under his arm and lifting Stryke up, holding him in position for a reverse brainbuster! The fans cheer the impressive sight of Renegade holding Stryke up in the air, but he holds him there perhaps a moment too long, Stryke shifting his weight enough for him to fall back to earth, landing securely on his feet behind Renegade! His vision starting to return, Stryke locks his arms around the waist of the main in front of him, looking to give Renegade a German Suplex! Stevens: “We saw how effective a Stryke German was when he hit one on Beezel, but compared to Renegade there’s quite a size difference, will Stryke be able to get him over?!” Stryke tries to lift Renegade for the suplex, but it’s to no avail as Renegade plants his feet and spreads his base to make it as hard as possible for Stryke to get him over. Renegade looks to get rid of Stryke with a back elbow, but the shorter Stryke sees it coming, managing to duck his head out of the way! Renegade throws another pair of elbows, again failing to connect as Stryke dodges out of the way, but as his attention is on Stryke Renegade doesn’t see Johnny Dangerous getting to his feet, Dangerous darting forward and kicking the taste right out of Renegade’s mouth with a devastating Johnny Kick! Things only escalate from there, the impact of the superkick giving Stryke the momentum he needs to suplex Renegade over, planting him headfirst into the canvas with a German Suplex!! Riley: “What a double team move! Dangerous got all of that superkick on Renegade, they’ve just wiped out Renegade!” Stevens: “The Johnny Kick alone is enough to finish someone off, let alone adding a German Suplex to the mix, Renegade has to be done for!” Stryke holds the bridge, the crowd on the edge of their seats as Kivell makes the count! ONE… TWO… THREEEEEEEEEE… RENEGADE GRABS THE BOTTOM ROPE!! The German Suplex left Renegade too close to the ropes, and unable to get his shoulders up he reaches out and grabs hold of the bottom rope, Kivell stopping the count! Stevens: “What ring awareness from Renegade! That Superkick/German combo was too much for him to kick out of, but he realised how close he was to the ropes and breaks to pin that way!” Stryke, due to him being unable to see Renegade grabs the rope from his position thinks he just eliminated him, but his hopes are quickly dashed as Kivell tells him what happened. But before Stryke gets a chance to drown Kivell in abuse, Dangerous comes up behind him and pulls him away, turning Stryke around as Johnny wraps his arms around Stryke’s waist in preparation for an Uranage! The moment his hands are locked together Johnny lifts up and falls back, throwing Stryke over his shoulder and slamming him hard to the mat! Stevens: “Dangerous showing his martial arts background, taking Stryke down with a judo throw, but will the Uranage be enough to get the pin?!” Dangerous rolls over after the move, pressing Stryke’s shoulders to the canvas for a pin! ONE… TWO… THREEEEEE… NNOOOOOO! Stryke just inches his shoulder off the canvas, again disappointing the crowd as Stryke staves off elimination. Riley: “Stryke will not die, he’s my pick for a reason, and he’ showing why, he isn’t going down without one hell of a fight!” Johnny Dangerous is tired, hurting all over, and barely has the energy to stand, let alone fight, but with a shot at ICTV gold on the line he has to put that out of his mind, getting to his feet and pulling Stryke up, and this time Dangerous goes for all the marbles, tucking his head under Stryke’s shoulder as he sets for the M.I. Slam!! Stevens: “Dangerous going for his finisher, if he hits with his version of an Angle Slam Stryke will be done for, it doesn’t matter how tough he is he isn’t kicking out of the M.I. Slam!” The fans go ballistic as Dangerous lifts Stryke up off his feet, spinning him around, but just as he goes to slam Stryke to the mat the Australian manages to slip off Johnny’s shoulders, grabbing his arm on the way down and snapping down with an arm drag!! Riley: “What a reversal from Stryke! The M.I. Slam reversed with one hell of an arm drag, and all of a sudden the momentum of this match has completely switched!” Dangerous staggers back to his feet after the arm drag, and Stryke goes to capitalise, darting to the nearest corner and running up the turnbuckle, running up to the top before leaping back into the ring, landing on Johnny’s shoulders and snapping him down with a big hurricanrana, reaching back and holding his leg in place for the pin! Kivell on the spot to count it! ONE… TWO… THREEEEEEEE… NNNOOOOOO!!! The place erupts as Dangerous gets his shoulders off the canvas in the nick of time, managing to force Stryke off the pin by the skin of his teeth! <continued below> Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Guest Suicide King Report post Posted June 23, 2003 Riley: “Renegade’s in the right place at the right time now, he came back in after Stryke, Crow and Beezel took each other out, and now Renegade can pick apart at them one at a time!” Renegade leans down and drags the nearly limp body of Beezel up, lifting him as for a suplex, but instead of falling back Renegade moves to the corner, sitting Beezel on the top before climbing up after him, hooking his arm and setting for a Superplex! Stevens: “Oh boy, Beezel is in trouble now, if Renegade hits this Beezel may be broken into a million pieces!” The crowd is on their feet watching on as Renegade goes to suplex Beezel back, but the Catch-22 leader desperately fight back, driving repeated fists into the midsection of Renegade, doing whatever he can to stave off his impending doom. Renegade shrugs the blows off though, slamming a clubbing blow across the back of Beezel before going for the superplex once again! The time it’s taken for Renegade to set Beezel up has allowed Stryke to reach his feet once more, running over to their corner and bouncing off the ropes next to them, hopping onto Renegade’s back and pulling him down with a sunset flip! Renegade falls back towards the ring, but he brings Beezel with him, superplexing Beezel all the way from the top as Stryke sunset flip powerbombs Renegade full force into the mat!! Riley :”OH MY GOD! Stryke swooping in like a vulture and powerbombing Renegade off the corner, as he gives Beezel an almighty superplex!! It’s anarchy in there, there’s bodies everywhere you look!” RAAAAAAAHHHH!! The crowd goes crazy as Stryke, Beezel and Renegade fall from the top in a great mess of bodies on the mat, but Stryke keeps his composure and holds onto the powerbomb pin on Renegade!! Kivell is there to count! ONE… TWO… THREEEEEEEEEE… NNNNOOOOOOOOO!!! Renegade rolls a shoulder off the mat! Half the fans go up almost in disbelief, while the other half are too busy chanting ‘HOLY SHIT!’ at the massive spot they’ve just witnessed! Stryke leaves Renegade and starts to crawl towards the other victim of the move, getting over to Beezel and draping himself over as he goes for another pin! ONE… TWO… THREEEEEEEE… NNNOOOOOOOO!!! Just like Renegade Beezel somehow gets a shoulder up, Kivell’s hand just about grazing the mat for three, but NO! Beezel stays alive in the match! Stevens: “Amazingly Renegade and Beezel both kickout! It was Beezel who I’d say got the worst of that move, and perhaps the only thing saving him there was Stryke going to pin Renegade first, those few seconds delay all that saved him on this occasion.” Stryke gets up on his knees, giving an exasperated look towards Kivell, Stryke too tired to trow and real abuse his way. It a good thing too, as Stryke stands Crow makes his charge, Stryke barely ducking under an incoming clothesline. Crow continues onto the opposite ropes, but as he comes back this time Stryke is ready for him, lifting him and spinning him around before dropping him right across Stryke’s extended knee in a tilt-a-whirl backbreaker! Stryke holds his knee as Crow arches his bain in pain, but Stryke does his best to ignore the pain, pulling himself over on top of Crow for the pin! ONE… TWO… THREEEEE… NNOOOOO! The Antichristian Phenomenon kicks out to the pleasure of the crowd, cheers resonating around the Pengrowth Saddledome as Crow survives another Stryke near fall! Stryke is again miffed at the kickout, but with all opponents down Stryke senses an opportunity, getting up in spite of his pain-wracked body and heading to the corner, once again holding onto the rope and using it to vault himself straight to the top, looking for a second All Time High! Riley: “Here we go! The All Time High finished Johnny Dangerous, and it’s about to give the same fate to Crow!” Crow lies prone on the mat, Stryke raising his arms in anticipated victory to the crowd, getting more boos for his troubles. Stryke then dives out, executing a picture perfect frogsplash!!! The only problem is Crow gets his knees up!! Stryke lands stomach first across the raised appendages of Crow, Stryke bouncing off and writhing on the mat in agony as the fans cheer like never before! Stevens: “Crow got the knees up, and the fans couldn’t be happier! He took a little too much time on the top turnbuckle, and boy did it ever cost him, Stryke in a world of hurt!” With Beezel still comatose across the ring and Stryke failing like a dying fish on the other side, Crow gets back to his feet, but the impact of Stryke landing on his knees did Crow no favors, Crow getting up rather gingerly. Renegade too is slow to rise, but both men are up at roughly the same time, Crow a little quicker though as he moves over and lashes the chest of Renegade with a hard knife-edge chop! WOOOOOO! Renegade reels back in pain, but Crow keeps the pressure on, pushing him into the ropes and sending him across the ring with an Irish whip! On the rebound Crow lowers his head in preparation for a back body drop, but he telegraphs it just enough for Renegade and get a foot up, kicking Crow right in the face! Crow stands tall again reeling, and Renegade looks to make Crow pay for his error, hooking him and hoisting him up for a brainbuster! Renegade gets Crow vertical, but Crow fights back, freeing his arm and jabbing a fist into the throat of Renegade, stunning him enough for Crow to fall back and land on his feet! Crow then takes a page out of Renegade’s book, hooking Renegade in position for a brainbuster of his own! Not just any brainbuster though, Crow lifting Renegade up in the Natural Born Chaos!!! Riley: “Natural Born Chaos time once again! We saw the devastating effect it had on Johnny Dangerous earlier, but this time Renegade has no stablemates to stick there noses in and break it up!” Crow tenses up, holding the heavier man up just long enough for Crow to kick his legs out, falling and DRILLING Renegade headfirst into the mat, the fans erupting as Renegade is driven into the canvas with plenty of impact! Crow knows every second he waits increases the chance of Renegade escaping, so he rolls over onto Renegade, hooking the far leg for the cover as the fans chant along! ONE… TWO… THREEEEEEEEE… YEEEEEEEEEESSSSSSS!!! DING DING DING! Funyon: “Renegade is eliminated by pinfall, leaving Beezel, Crow and Stryke as the men remaining in this match!” Stevens: “Natural Born Chaos right on target, and Renegade’s return to the SWF ends here, Crow pinning Renegade in his debut. It’s down to three now, the supremely talented Beezel, the bumpee fresh from the JL Crow, and the returning superstar Stryke. Three men, but only one can go on to challenge for the Intercontinental-Television Title, but who will it be?!” Electricity runs through the arena as Renegade slowly rolls away to the outside, Stryke dragging himself up in one corner as Crow starts to get up in the corner opposite. Beezel too is starting to rise, and with the assistance of the ropes gets up quicker than his two Australian foes, Beezel running for Crow and jumping up, clotheslining him into the corner! Beezel then runs back almost to Stryke in the other corner, before making a charge for Crow, executing a handspring into a hard elbow right to the face of Crow, knocking him back down on his ass in the corner! Riley: “Despite everything that’s happened Beezel still has the energy to perform an athletic move like that, I may not like him but he’s putting in a superhuman performance, that’s for sure. He still won’t win though.” With Crow down Beezel turns his focus to the corner with Stryke now standing, Beezel running towards him and going for a second handspring elbow! But this time luck is not on Beezel’s side, Srtyke darting out of the way at the last second, leaving Beezel to slam up against the hard turnbuckle pads! Beezel staggers out of the corner, and Stryke is right there to greet him, wrapping his arms around him and tossing El Scorcho overhead with an overhead release belly to belly suplex!! Beezel crashes back to earth with a thud, Stryke quickly crawling over for the cover! ONE… TWO… THREEEEE… NNOOOOO! Beezel kicks out, but it’s apparent to everyone the kick outs are getting slower and less emphatic, everyone on the match is nearing the limit of where their bodies can take them. Riley: “He may not be scoring the pin but it’s important for Stryke to keep going for the cover, the move that finally pushes an opponent over the pain barrier where threy just can’t go on could be anything from a Ganso Bomb to a Jumping Mew Driver to a simple punch!” The few months of ring rust Stryke has picked up is starting to come into effect now, perspiration dripping off a visibly tiring Stryke as he drags Beezel off the mat, standing him before rocking his head back with an European Uppercut, nearly sending Beezel right back onto the ropes! Stryke delivers another sharp uppercut, Beezel falling to one knee as Crow starts to stand in the corner near them, pulling himself up onto the second turnbuckle. Stryke steps back and looks to uppercut Beezel’s skull into orbit with one final European uppercut, but as he swings Beezel dodges, hooking his arm with Stryke’s before hooking his other arm as well, pulling him down in a backslide! Kivell swopps in to count the fall, but quickly has to dodge out of the way himself, Crow jumping off the second turnbuckle and landing his leg across the had of Stryke with a leg drop! Stevens: “Jesus Christ, Crow just about breaking Stryke’s neck as he was in a backslide from Beezel! There was no way for Stryke to protect himself on that one, he felt all of that!” Despite Stryke possibly being primed to be pinned neither Crow nor Beezel wants to make the move to cover him and leave themselves exposed to the other, Beezel going to kick the stuffing out of Crow instead! Crow is familiar with Beezel’s taste for kicking by this stage though, managing to catch his foot mid-strike! Crow goes to push Beezel back, but Beezel shows his acrobatic skill once more, flipping right over and landing on his feet! Crow charges to try and re-gain the initiative, but Beezel ducks, getting behind Crow and catching him in a full nelson before snapping back, the crowd going bonkers as Beezel drivess Crow’s head into the canvas with the Dragon Suplex! The crowd noise is deafening as Beezel holds the bridge for the pin!! ONE… TWO… THREEEEEEEEEE… NNNNNNOOOOOOOOO!!! Crow just, and I meanjust gets his shoulders off the mat in time, Beezel a whisker from disposing of Crow! Stevens: “DRAGON SUPLEX BY BEEZEL, but it doesn’t get the job done! Good lord, what’s it going to take to put these guys down for the count?!” Leaving Crow folded up like a pile of dirty laundry Beezel moves towards Stryke, pulling him up and taking him to the middle of the ring, before delivering a roundhouse kick right to the side of Stryke’s leg, dropping him to one knee! Much of the crowd goes up knowing what comes next, and Beezel doesn’t dissapoint, running to the ropes and bouncing off to pick up momentum, coming back and stepping off Stryke’s knee, RAMMING his knee into Stryke’s face with a BRTUAL Shining Wizard, Dousing the Flames! Stryke collapses back like he was just hit with a truck, Beezel getting over as quick as he can and making the cover! ONE… TWO… THREEEEEEEEEEE… NNNNOOOOOOOOOO!!! Stryke miraculously gets his shoulder off the canvas, instinctively kicking out as Stryke’s mind is still in orbit following the savage Shining Wizard! Riley: “STRYKE KICKS OUT! My picks still in this! I don’t know how he did it, but somehow he kicks out of the Dousing the Flames!” Stevens: “He may have kicked out, but he’s not looking very well, his eyes are glazed over and I doubt he knows where he is, Beezel’s knee connected full force on the side of Stryke’s head.” Beezel is almost in disbelief, sure he’d sone enough to finish Stryke off, but seeing Crow crawling his way towards the corner Beezel starts to stand, legs wobbly but he manages his way across, picking Crow up from behind and putting his arm around Crow’s neck, dropping him with a reverse DDT! Beezel puts Crow down on the mat, but his intentions aren’t finished yet, Beezel standing and stepping through the ropes onto the apron, starting to scale the turnbuckle! Stevens: “Oh boy, we’ve seen Beezel fly already, but I think he may be going or what might be the most impressive finishing move in the SWF today, the Meteor Shower! This will be lights out for Crow!” Beezel makes it to the top, facing back into the ring and looking down on the still body of Crow, setting himself as the fans unanimously stand, all the seats in the arena empty as they watch on, Beezel setting himself before jumping high off the turnbuckles, flipping back in a somersault before dropping down towards Crow, going to land back first! Cameras flash all around the arena, catching a perfect shot of Beezel hitting the mat very hard as Crow rolls out of the way! Riley: “Crow moved! That’s why they call it high risk, Beezel just crashed and burned big time!” Crow grabs hold of the bottom rope, and knowing this may be his one shot he pulls himself up, rope by rope, step by step as he starts to scale the turnbuckle as well! Crow makes it up to the top, and standing on the top facing out into the crowd Crow extends his arms in a crucifix pose, getting ready for the Evenflow Moonsault! Stevens: “From one aerial move to another, Crow looking to finish Beezel off with the Evenflow Moonsault! What a boilover this will be if Crow pins Beezel and makes it to the final two of this contest!” The go wild, chants of ‘CROW!’ filling the arena as Crow flips back, rotating 270 degrees, landing right on target as he hits Beezel with the Evenflow Moonsault!!! Too tired to move Crow just stays draped across El Scorcho, Kivell there to make the count, the fans counting along as loud as they’ve been all night! ONE… TWO… THREEEEEEEEEEE… YEEEEEEEEEEEESSSSSSSS!!! CROW PINS BEEZEL!!! DING DING DING! Funyon: “Beezel has been eliminated by pinfall, and we’re now down to TWO remaining superstars, whoever scores the fall between Stryke and Crow will be the NEW #1 Contender to the ICTV Championship!” Stevens: “What a performance by new SWF superstar Crow! Two eliminations in a row, first Renegade and now Beezel! They’re no easy pickings either, Crow is really showing he’s a force to be reckoned with in the SWF! He’s only one more elimination away from scoring a HUGE upset, he could be the ICTV Title #1 contender after only one match in the SWF!” Riley: “Well it won’t happen. Stryke’s still in there, my pick is going all the way, he’s too good to let this opportunity slip away so late in the game.” With Renegade and both members of Catch-22 eliminated Crow is easily the crowd’s favourite, two Australians left to do battle, to the winner go the spoils, to the loser nothing but pain and disappointment. Crow slowly stands and turns to locate Stryke, but Stryke is already up, running forward and catching Crow right on the chin with a big superkick! Riley: “Stryke wasting no time getting the final stage of this match underway, this might be over right now!” Stryke drops on top, looking to surprise Crow with a quick pin! ONE… TWO… THREEEEEEE… NNNOOOOOO! After everything he’s been through Crow isn’t going down that easily, the superkick not enough to finish Crow off in his SWF debut! Stevens: “Crow being busy with Beezel gave Stryke the time to recover a little bit, if Stryke plays his cards right he can keep on top of Crow from now on and make sure he doesn’t get another move in, there’s no other competitors to worry about anymore!” Stryke keeps on top of Crow, grinding his forearm up against the face of Crow, the crowd booing as hard as they can as Stryke drives the point of his elbow into Crow’s face. Stryke takes Crow by the arm as he gets to his feet, putting his arm between Crow’s legs and looking for a pumphandle! The weakened Crow offers little resistance, Stryke giving out a yell as he powers Crow up before dropping him right back down again, Crow’s back bent right across Stryke’s extended knee! The crowd ‘OOOHHH’ as Crow falls to the mat, pain etched across his face, the crowd booing as Stryke goes for the pin! ONE… TWO… THREEEEEEEE… NNNOOOOOOOO!! The boos turn to huge cheers, Crow just refusing to die, getting his shoulder up at the last possible second! Riley: “Dammit, this Crow must be a cyborg or something, no one should be able to kick out after all the punishment he’s taken!” Stryke stumbles slightly as he stands, his knee hurting after slamming Crow onto it for the second time in the match, but it still feels better than Crow’s back, the Pumphandle Backbreaker sending flashes of pain all throughout Crow’s body, there’s not an inch of him that isn’t hurting right now. Stryke brings Crow up with him, and sets about draining the life out of Crow further as he locks on a sleeper hold! The boos rain down as Stryke cinches it in hard, a ‘STRYKE SUCKS!’ chant picking up in full force as Crow desperately flails trying to escape, but Stryke does it for him, Stryke dropping down and snapping Crow to the mat with a Sleeper Drop, Crow’s back again impacting the mat hard. Stevens: “I think Stryke realises Crow’s back isn’t feeling to good right now, and that’s where his offence is going to be targeted. And don’t forget Stryke’s submission finisher affects the back, things are looking grim for Crow right now.” With Crow down Stryke rolls back to his feet, giving the Calgary crowd the finger as he heads to the corner, and for the third time in the match Stryke grabs the rope and springs up to the top in one smooth motion, standing on the top as he looks for the All Time High! Riley: “All good things must come to an end, and as good as this match was it’s time to finish it off! Crow may have got his knees up on one All Time High, but after the punishment he’s taken there’s no way he’s escaping this one!” The fans boo with all their might, but it doesn’t bother Stryke one bit as he flies off the top, soaring through the air before smashing on top of Crow with the All Time High! Stevens: “Oh, Stryke hit if PERFECTLY this time, this one is in the bag now.” Riley: “See, I told you he was my pick fort a reason, Stryke is going to be your NEW #! Contender to the ICTV Title!” Stryke has a smirk right across his face as he makes the cover, the dejected fans barely bothering to count along as Stryke is about to win. ONE… TWO… THREEEEEEEEEEEEEEE… CROW KICKS OUT!!! CROW KICKS OUT!!! The roof blows right off the Pengrowth Saddledome, the fans going insane as Crow kicks out of the All Time High! Riley: “WHAT?! NO, he can’t… that’s not… damnit, he’s supposed to have lost!” Stevens: “Crow is superhuman, he kicks out of the All Time High! And Stryke is absolutely beside himself!” Stryke cannot believe it Stryke immediately getting into the face of Matthew Kivell, pushing him back into the corner and going nuts at him, Stryke going red in the face as Kivell desperately tries to cover up, fearing for his safety! Stevens: “Stryke is FURIOUS with Kivell, but if he’s mad with anyone it should be himself! That was a pretty weak cover, it’s still a miracle Crow kicked out but it’s Stryke that gave him the opportunity to do so!” Stryke’s temper tantrum goes into overdrive, barely restraining himself from punching Kivell’s lights out! He turns around to see Crow starting to crawl up to his feet, and Stryke decides to take his anger out of him instead, running past him and running up the turnbuckles, reaching the top and leaping back onto Crow’s shoulders for a hurricanrana! Crow continues to amaze though, as he drops forward and slams Stryke onto the mat with a desperation powerbomb reversal! Riley: “This is terrible! Things are just getting worse for Stryke, now Crow just levelled him with a powerbomb! Dammit, this wasn’t supposed to happen!” Stevens: “Well it is happening, Crow may be moments away from shocking the world!” Both men are down on their back, the fans rabid in support of Crow, and the Antichrist Superstar starts to sit up, grabbing Stryke’s legs and putting his leg in between, starting to apply a sharpshooter! The crowd is deafening as Crow slowly starts to stand up, turning Stryke over into the sharpshooter as he does so! Stevens: “SHARPSHOOTER! SHARPSHOOTER! Stryke is in all sorts of trouble now, Crow putting a deadly submission maneuver, can Stryke survive?!” Stryke realises the predicament he’s in, and before Crow can get the hold in all the way Stryke crawls forward as fast as he can, getting in range of the ring ropes! Kivell is right there asking Stryke is he wants to quit, not that he could hear him even if he said yes due to the massive crowd noise. Crow sits right down in the move, just about tearing Stryke’s legs out of their sockets as he screams out, putting his whole body into the shaprshooter! Stryke’s coming close to his pain barrier, raising his hand as if to tap out! He sucks it up though, pulling himself forward inch by precious inch, the ropes so close yet so far away! He finally makes one final desperate lunge forward, just latching his fingers around the bottom rope, Kivell calling for the break as the crowd boo their lungs out. Riley: “Oh thank god! Come on Stryke, fight back, you have to!” Crow gets back up as Stryke is half dead on the ropes, but he doesn’t get a seconds rest as Crow pulls him up, before running to the ropes and hopping up on Stryke’s shoulders, Crow going for a hurricanrana of his own! But as he falls back Stryke plants his feet, stopping Crow mid-move and leaving him hanging upside down! It’s then just a matter of changing position, Stryke stepping over Crow and dropping him into a Walls of Jericho, Stryke locking on the Event Horizon! Stevens: “Oh this isn’t good for Crow, after those shots to the back he’s taken the Event Horizon may be too much for him! Regardless you have to admire the fight of these two, two young superstars giving it everything they have out there!” Crow screams out in pain, Stryke pulling back as much as humanly possible, trying to do enough damage to Crow’s back to get the submission! Crow isn’t one to give up without a fight though, blocking the pain out of his mind as he reaches forward, Stryke’s ring positioning poor as Crow is in range of the ropes, the fans urging Crow on, cheering every millimetre he advances! Despite the pain wracking his body Crow reaches out, and Stryke can’t do a thing as Crow grabs onto the ropes breaking the hold! Stevens: “Crow makes it! He just will no die, what a performance from Crow in his WF debut!” Riley: “Oh stop being so damn biased Stevens. Come on Stryke, don’t give up yet, you;ve got him right where you want him, finish him off!” Stevens: “What were you saying about ‘biased’ there, Riley?” Riley: “Oh shut up.” Kivell beckons Stryke to break the hold, but he refuses, instead pulling Crow away from the ropes and out into the center of the ring! The boos flow as Stryke reaches down to re-apply the Event Horizon, but as he does Crow reaches up and pulls Stryke down, rolling him up out of nowhere! ONE… TWO… THREEEEEEEEEEE… NNNNOOOOOOOOO!!! Stryke kicks out!! A fraction of a second later and Crow would have won, but Stryke won’t go down either! Stevens: “Crow almost stole it from right under Stryke’s nose with that flash rollup! But at this point I don’t think either mans going to fall for something basic like that, it’ll take something big to finish this off.” Both Crow and Stryke get to their feet quick as they can, but Crow sets himself first, hooking his arms in Stryke’s and falling back, tossing Stryke overhead in the Entrapment Suplex! The fans go up, Crow not just going for a regular cover and he puts on a La Magistral, rolling him up and pinning Stryke;s shoulders to the mat once again! Kivell counts! ONE… TWO… THREEEEEEEEEE… NNNNOOOOOOO!! With literally no time to spare Stryke kicks out again!! Each man is giving it everything they have! Stevens: “ANOTHER super close near fall! I’m getting tired just watching all this, I can barely imagine what it must be like for Stryke and Crow in there!” Both men are just running on pure adrenaline at this point, Crow bringing Stryke up and lifting him, dropping him shin-first on Crow’s knee with a shinbreaker! Stryke falls back to the mat, the pain in his legs amplified as Crow moves to the turn buckle, scaling it at fast as he can! Riley: “It’s all of nothing time now! The high-risk stuff has paid off once for both Crow and Stryke, but it’s also been the downfall of Beezel, Crow taking a big risk here!” Stevens: “At this point it’s going to take a big risk to win, everything else hasn’t got the job done!” Crow stands tall, looking down at Stryke, beforediving forward, flipping over in a top rope somersault senton! Crow soars towards Stryke… only to catch nothing but canvas, landing back first on the hard wood as Stryke finds the strength to push himself out of the way!! Riley: “It was do or die, and I guess Crow died there, landing back first from that height may be what finally does him in!” The high hopes of the crowd have suddenly been shattered, Crow dead on the mat as Stryke pushes himself up, his body strained to the point of exhaustion, but Stryke senses the end is near and pushes on, moving to Crow and dragging him up off the mat. Stryke quickly sets him for a rock bottom, holding him just long enough for the crowd to get a good look before lifting Crow up with all the strength he can muster, extending his knee and folding Crow up like an accordion across with the Broken Arrow! Stevens: “Rock Bottom across the knee, as tough as Crow’s shown himself to be there’s only dope much the human body can take, that may be too much for Crow to fight on from. We’ve said that before though, so you never know…” Stryke lets Crow fall to the mat, pushing Crow over onto his stomach before limping over to the corner, the fans knowing what to expect at this point as Stryke slowly climbs up, no longer with the energy to spring right up as he scales the turnbuckles for the All Time High! This time Stryke’s determined to have no mistakes and allow no more comebacks, Stryke diving towards Crow and landing the frogsplash RIGHT ACROSS HIS BACK! Riley: “YES! That has to be it! Come on Stryke, pin him, done let it slip away again!” Stryke holds his rins in agony, the impact, leaving him in incredible pain, but Strykre crawls over to Crow with all the energy he can muster, rolling him onto his back and finally making this cover! The fans can do nothing but boo as they watch Kivell make the count! Can Crow fight on again… ONE… TWO… … no he can’t. THREEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!! No more comebacks, no more kickouts, Stryke is the winner! DING DING DING! Riley: “WOOO! I told you he’d do it, Stryke comes out on top in his return to the SWF!” Funyon: “Your winner by pinfall, and NEW #1 CONTENDER TO THE ICTV CHAMPIONSHIP, STRYKE!!!” The fans jeer and boo as Kivell takes Stryke hands and raises it high, Stryke too exhausted to even stand in celebration. Stevens: “What a performance by all five men in this match, but it’s Stryke that outlasts them all, booking his shot at the ICTV title. Whether you like him or not you have to give Stryke all the credit in the world, but I’d say Crow was just as impressive. He may not won, but what a debut for the Antichristian Phenomenon this was, you know he’ll be a force to be reckoned with in the SWF, his day will certainly come.” Riley: “And to think this was just the first match of the show! Nine more matches coming your way fans, can I predict the winners of them as well? Of course I can, I’m never wrong.” Stevens: “Sure you’re not, Riley. Anyway, up next get ready for Caged Fury, it’s Mike Van Siclen and Sean Atlas, NEXT!” Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Guest Suicide King Report post Posted June 23, 2003 Fade back into the Pengrowth Saddledome, where a sustained murmur is suddenly interrupted by the rhythm of “Seven Nation Army” and flashes of multiple strobe lights from the ceiling. The steel construction hanging above the ring begins to slowly descend towards the surface of the arena, inciting shouts of excitement from the surrounding fans. Ring attendants quietly march into the ringside area, waiting for the cage’s arrival from above. Seated near the ring, Grand Slam Mark Stevens and Bobby Riley discuss the match to follow. “Fifteen foot high, solid steel construction, no door, no pinfall, no mercy – this is Caged Fury!” announces a triumphant Mark Stevens. “It’s come down to this” Bobby Riley explains. “Two men at odds, one consistently dominated by the other, wanting nothing more than to redeem himself and prove to be the better of the two. This is his type of match – one in which he defeated the Hell Machine Janus not so long ago. Can he do the same to Sean Atlas?” “Soon enough, Riley, we shall know.” Mark Stevens replies. The cage now lowered, ringside attendants attach all but one side to the ring, leaving the fourth edge free to allow the competitors and referee Eddy Long – already present - access to the ring inside. Meanwhile, our esteemed announcer Funyon stands at cageside, cue cards in hand, introducing the Calgary crowd to the mêlée about to be presented. “Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is a Caged Fury Match! Taking place inside a fifteen-foot high steel cage without a door, competitors may leave over the top, but may only win the match by Submission! No-Disqualification and No-Countout rules are in effect!” TING! TING! TING! TING! Just as the suited announcer ends his speech, four quick cymbals and even quicker guitar riff that begin “Damage Done” by Dark Tranquility blast throughout the arena. As blue strobe lights flash accordingly with the music in a darkened Pengrowth Saddledome, Mike Van Siclen steps onto the ramp, his arms extending in a bent crucifix under his acid-green jacket. He spins around the on the ramp, grinning like a madman as he breaks out of his spin cycle and steps cockily down the entrance ramp. Supported by cheers of the Calgary faithful, Van Siclen reaches the caged squared circle, ducks underneath the unfastened cage wall and rolls into the ring. Once there, he quickly hops onto the middle rope, balancing on it as he fires up the crowd. But his excitement is cut short when his music begins to face away, replaces by a small moment of silence that’s followed by the battle hymn of his enemy... “Heaven’s a Lie” by Lacuna Coil slowly intensifies, inflaming the crowd to turn against the man soon to emerge. As the electric guitar of the intro reaches a Zenith, the fans nearest to the stage plug their ears, knowing exactly what’s about to hit them... !*BOOM*! The gargantuan white explosion detonates on the stage, leaving behind it a large plume of thick smoke, illuminated by the white light shining through the ramp grating. All eyes fixed upon this haze soon begin to see a defined shape making its way through the murkiness, and as expected, the form reveals itself to be that of the masked malice, Sean Atlas. He increases the pace of his walk, almost to a full run as he trots to the ring, under the cage wall and slides inside... heading right for Van Siclen! DING-DING-DING! “And they’re off!” bellows Riley as Sean Atlas takes to the sir against Van Siclen, hitting a Lou Thesz Press! He immediately pulls of and pummels MVS with brutal fists to the jaw. Meanwhile, the ring attendants seal up the remaining exposed cage wall and secure it, locking the two combatants inside for good. Sean’s grounded punches have been turned against him as Van Siclen overpowers him and rolls him over, gaining the upper hand. Atlas doesn’t wait around to receive them all though, choosing instead to break free of Siclen’s clutches and roll away. As Atlas rises to his feet, Van Siclen is right there to meet him, aggressively taking him by the hand and sends him into the ropes. Sean bounces, his back making slight contact with the steel cage wall behind the ropes, and returns towards Mike, who drops as Sean comes near and tangles his feet with those of Atlas’, taking him down with a Drop Toe Hold. MVS instantly jumps to his knees and grabs hold of Atlas’ foot, twisting it in an attempt to put on an Ankle Lock...! “Mike Van Siclen, using the submission holds early on!” yells an excited Mark Stevens. But the Sean Atlas, his reflexes still strong, rolls onto his back and pulls Mike closer, then picks him away! “Maybe a little bit too early” notes Riley. “He’d be better off working one single body part as he has before.” After being pushed away, Van Siclen quickly rolled into a kneeling position, then stood up just before Sean Atlas did so. The two men spring forward, heading for a collision course with one another, but Van Siclen gets an arm out to his side, bringing the masked man down on his back. He continues to run, bouncing off the ropes and scampers back to the downed Atlas... who flattens out at MVS hops over him, heading for the other set of rope. Springing to his feet at a moment’s notice, Atlas gets himself standing just as Mike recoils off the ropes and cage wall. Siclen sprints to his opponent, increasing his speed as he gets near, but just before he rams into Atlas, Sean leaves his feet and leapfrogs over the Spectacle! He lands back down with the thud of his boots hitting the mat, thinking he evaded Van Siclen yet again. But when he turns around, a shooting pain enters his midsection as MVS sends a hard kick to the gut of Sean Atlas! “Great strategy by The Spectacular One on that exchange” notes Stevens. “What, hitting a man when he’s not looking?” Riley retorts, with a sly smirk on his face. “No, Bobby” Grand Slam answers. “It’s changing speed and direction to use the element of surprise against him.” With Atlas doubled over in the center of the ring, Van Siclen darts towards the near ropes, bounces off hard enough to hit the cage nearby, and leaves his feet as he returns to Atlas, lifting his leg high in the air for the Guillotine Leg Drop...! But the Van Siclen Guillotine misses its target! Atlas straightens out and evades his leg as Mike comes crashing down, landing awkwardly with his side to his masked opponent. Thinking quickly, Sean immediately, slides his foot behind Mike’s, extending an arm across his back and falls, hitting a Russian Leg Sweep! Both men land with a resounding thud, then quickly roll in opposite directions to race back to their feet. Van Siclen slightly wins that particular challenge and attempts another lariat, but doesn’t connect with it as Sean drives his knee into the gut of the spectacular one. Now doubled over, Mike feels his arm forcefully extended to the side. Atlas steps over it, holding it between his legs as he sets Mike up for one of his most unique maneuvers – the Stepover Legdrop. But having been victim to this once before, Van Siclen knows the move and escapes it using one of Sean’s own tricks... the Rear Leg Takedown! “Oh, so now he’s stealing Sean’s own signature moves?” asks a bothered Robert Riley. “That’s a basic amateur takedown!” Grand Slam replies. “There’s nothing wrong with- wait, look!” After bringing Sean Atlas face down on the Mask, Van Siclen instantly grabs hold of his ankle, trying once again to put on an ankle lock... and does it! He twists and torques Sean’s foot as Atlas struggles around, trying to find a way to escape the hold! “Seems to me like The Spectacular One is trying to take Sean’s legs out from under him” notes Stevens. “A worthy strategy that we rarely see from Atlas’ opponents.” “Why though?” questions Mr. Riley “He almost always goes after the neck, and doesn’t have too many maneuvers to work the legs.” “Because doing so will not only slow Sean down, but will lower his ability to leave the cage, hit many suplexes, and most of all, stop him from leaving his feet for the Saint’s Demise.” But just as the rationale for working the legs becomes clear, Sean Atlas gets the necessary room to roll forward, flipping to force MVS over and down onto his back, escaping the ankle lock. Seemingly unharmed by the hold, Sean stands up first, moving on the offensive to counter Van Siclen’s relentlessness. But as he reaches the Spectacular One, Mike grabs onto his head and... “Sitout Jawbreaker!” bellows grand Slam. “You know what’s coming next!” “ Right on cue, Mike stands up, grabs both legs and hits the Double Leg Wishbone! To the sound of fan adulation, Mike pops right back up and yanks on Atlas’ arm to get him standing. Van Siclen whips the masked man towards the far ropes, launching him hard enough that Sean’s back hits the cage wall. As Atlas comes back, MVS leaps in the air, sending a Spinning Wheelkick directly at him...! But Sean evades it! He slides down onto the canvas, letting the leg fly over his head. He quickly hops back up, sliding his arms behind Mike’s to lock him in a Full Nelson, then slides his feet in front of him to set up the Forward Russian Leg Sweep... But struggles as he forces it! Van Siclen fights it off, prying Sean’s left arm loose! Yet the quick-witted Atlas grabs it once again in a Chickenwing, then lifts Mike’s body up in the air... And hits the Tequila Sunrise Suplex! “Atlas continues to control the match here in the early going, but Van Siclen’s persistence doesn’t waiver” states Grand Slam. “Sooner or later, Mike will have to give up.” Riley replies. “Atlas has always had the upper hand over him, why should now be any different?” Sean is up first, clearly behind the wheel as he forces the Spectacle to rise to his feet. Then, amidst a sustained round of jeers and crowd anticipation... *SMACK* ...Chop to the chest by Sean Atlas! *SMACK* Another one follows, sending Mike reeling!! *SMACK* A third now, forcing Van Siclen closer to the ropes and cage wall. *SMACK* A fourth and final knife edge chop powers Mike into the ropes, where Sean takes his hand and pushes him against the ropes and steel barrier, then takes a step back and tugs on the arm, sending him running... But no! Atlas holds on, and Van Siclen snaps back to Atlas! Sean throws his arms around MVS, preparing to hit a Bell-t-Belly Suplex – directly into the cage wall! Atlas lifts... But Mike’s foot clings to the back of Sean’s leg! Atlas prepares to try it once more, but realizing the futility of it, he moves away. Instead, Atlas quickly grabs both of MVS’ hands, then snaps him around as he maneuver’s Van Siclen under his own arm, setting him up for a Straightjacket Suplex! Atlas hauls the Spectacle off his feet... And takes him over his head, but no further as Van Siclen shifts his weight back down! Landing flat on the mat with his boots, MVS rapidly ducks down to spin out of the grip of his own two arms, then uses the momentum to twist Sean Atlas around, wrapping the masked man’s arms around his own head... And as the applause for Van Siclen grows louder, he falls to the mat, bringing Sean Atlas down with him for a Crossface Halo! “What a reversal!” bellows Mark Stevens. “Mike Van Siclen fought his way out of the Straightjacket, then in one fluid motion turned it into a Crossface Halo and brought Atlas down to the canvas!” “Mike seems to have interrupted Sean’s strategy of attacking the back and neck, though it’s not all that clear what Mike is trying to do now either.” Says the color[ful] man. “At this point,” Grand Slam replies. “I think MVS is just trying to get control of this match, Riley.” Siclen gets himself off the mat, just in time to greet a doubled-over Sean Atlas. Mike immediately latches onto his neck, putting the masked menace into a front face lock. Fluidly, MVS grabs Sean’s pants at the waist and lifts, then snaps him back down with a Snap Suplex. Rolling over, onto his chest, Mike brings Atlas along with him, but doesn’t stand up, keeping the front head lock on... “And now a neck submission from MVS...” says Stevens. “Good flow of maneuvers from the Suplex.” He tightens the hold and puts more pressure on the head and neck, seemingly converting the suplex into a Front Face Hold... Atlas awkwardly waves his arms, trying to pry Van Siclen off, just as referee Eddy Long kneels down to him... The fans quickly realize that they’re witnessing a submission and start to get behind MVS, cheering him on as he applies more pressure... But Sean Atlas presses on... He brings his hands near his chest and almost like a pushup, elevated his body above the surface of the mat, forcing Van Siclen to compromise the hold... MVS stands up with him, trying to keep at least a decent grip on the neck, but has little luck as Sean strikes him in the gut with a boot... Another kick and Mike’s grip breaks loose! Atlas instantly takes Mike’s hand and whips him to the ropes. Once again, the steel construction shakes a bit as MVS’ back makes contact with it. He makes his way back to Sean, who stands to the side, ready to use a Superkick... But the Spectacle stops short and holds on to the leg!! As Atlas hobbles around with only half of hit feet available to him, Mike teases using a Dragon Screw legwhip, but doesn’t get it off in time as Sean jumps and flips back, using Mike’s own body as a step... “Watch out, it’s the cruise kick!” yells Riley... !*SLAM*! “No, it’s not!!!” screams an animated Mark Stevens as Van Siclen stops Sean from making the full rotation, latches on to his head and brings it down in a sitout Mat Slam! “Great reflexes by the Spectacle!” “He took Sean right out of the air with that X-Factor-like move...” Riley notes, “countering yet another of Sean’s moves.” Though the opportunity for another face lock is right there in front of him, Van Siclen chooses instead to lift Atlas to his feet and drag him into the corner, using several forearms along the way. Leaning in as he takes the hand, Mike steps back and launches Atlas across the ring. Sean rams into the opposite corner with his back, hitting that set of turnbuckle pads. Mike was running right behind him however, and moments after Sean’s impact, MVS adds more to it with a clothesline! Lowering his shoulder, Van Siclen grabs onto the middle rope on either side of Atlas and yanks on both, ramming the gut of the masked man! He pulls out... and thrusts his shoulder in again! Moves away... and tugs on the ropes a third time to crush Atlas midsection! He pulls out, seemingly finished... but he jerks on the ropes and propels himself into the gut of Atlas yet again! “He just won’t let up, will he?” Riley complains. “What does humping Sean’s gut with your shoulder have to do with anything?” “It has to do with that fact that Atlas did the same to Mike in their first encounter, and apparently, MVS learned a thing or two from that match” Stevens answers. “Now please, don’t mix business with pleasure and start talking about humping.” Finally finished with the shoulder thrusts, MVS steps out of the corner, turning around to confidently wave his arms to the crowd. Arousing applause, MVS turns back to Atlas, but sees the masked man stepping away from the corner. Refusing to fall victim to Sean Atlas now, the Spectacle charges at the ropes adjacent to Atlas, leaves his feet to jump on the middle one and jumps, thrusting his legs forward to hit a Springboard dropkick! Atlas stumbles off to the side, where normally he would be knocked off the apron. But having been inside the ring and aside from that, inside a cage, he hits the ropes instead and ricochets off, staggering back to where MVS landed. A sudden kick to the midsection however causes him to double over immediately, and MVS hooks the neck, setting up a DDT...! But instead, comes around with his other elbow, driving it into the upper back of Sean Atlas to hit the CODE RED! The Calgary fans release a round of cheers as a grounded MVS takes Sean’s arm and clasps it with his legs, then reaches around Sean’s head and clinches his hands together, locking on a grounded Armbar Crossface!!! “Mike Van Siclen sets up the Crossface, finally locking in a major submission move!” Stevens excitedly shouts. “There are no rope breaks here, so despite the position, Sean atlas is definitely in trouble!” “Mike’s been working that neck more and more... is this what he was building to?” Riley questions. “We haven’t seen him use this before... are there more tricks up those sleeves?” “He may not need any if this hold does the job!” Referee Eddy Long comes down, anticipating the submission... He hears no sign of Atlas quitting, only grunts of misery coming from behind Atlas’ mask... Mike meanwhile, shakes his head back and fourth, urging Atlas to quit and putting more pressure on the submission hold... The fans remain in support of the Spectacle, applauding him for his continued efforts... Sean maintains his resilience though, refusing to tap or verbalize himself quitting... He shifts his body over just a bit, reaching for the bottom rope despite its relative uselessness... He latches on to it, then pushes up, trying to turn himself onto his back to escape the hold... But it’s of no use as his right arm remains locked between the legs of the Spectacular One... “He’s running out of options.” says Stevens. “That hold is taking a serious toll on his neck and hand, Riley.” “It can’t be over this soon. That’s not the Sean Atlas we all know and love.” Riley replies. “Maybe you love him, fruit loop, but look at these fans! Every one of them is behind Mike Van Siclen!” The one free arm of Sean Atlas’ continues to flail wildly as he gives up on using the rope for leverage... Instead, he tries reaching around his back to knock MVS off... But he can’t reach far enough. He tries to roll the opposite way, reaching under his own body to loosen Van Siclen’s grip... Again, no dice. He grabs onto Mike’s hands in an attempt to try them off his face... But his mask begins to move along with them, quickly putting an end to that idea... Eddy Long continues to pester him, asking for the two simple words or at least a tap of the mat... Sean replies with nothing more than louder cries of agony, feeling his neck and arm being bent beyond their limits... In a last ditch effort, he presses his palm down against the canvas, pushing himself up and using Mike’s own efforts against him to elevate his body... It seemingly works as Sean’s chest comes off the mat, then his torso, and then his legs, giving him enough room to up a knee down and duck... And escape the hold!!! “He’s out!” Riley exclaims. “Sean escapes the Crappler Crossface!” “Sure, fear it when it puts your boy in danger,” Stevens says “But when it doesn’t work, you mock it.” “Quiet, bat-boy. Atlas is fighting back!” The color man’s claims are a bit exaggerated though, as Atlas doesn’t fight back so much as defend himself from Siclen’s forearms. Mike stands him up and forced him all the way up against the ropes, then whips him off to the other side. Bouncing off, Sean heads back towards Mike who stands, waiting for the masked man’s approach... But Atlas slides down on the mat, slithering in between Van Siclen’s legs with a baseball slide. He quickly tries t grab MVS around the waist for a Belly-to-Back suplex, but before he gets a solid grip, Siclen whirls around, raising his leg high in the air for a Spinning Wheel Kick! “Quick reflexes by Van Siclen!” notes Mark Stevens. “He’s sure got his wits about him thus far.” “Unlike my esteemed colleague here, who failed to notice that Mike set himself up for Atlas to slide underneath him, taking quite a risk” Riley retorts. Sean staggers back, using the ropes to prevent a fall to the mat. He slightly recoils off them, however while Mike dashes towards him and grabs him by the head with both hands.... then SLAMS his head down onto the mat with a Two Handed Facebuster! Working quickly, MVS gets Sean standing and kicks him in the gut to keep him doubled over. Running to the ropes, the Spectacle launches himself off them and heads for Atlas’ neck in a Swinging Neckbreaker attempt...!! But Sean evades him! Mike’s body comes crashing down on its own at Atlas’ feet, who suddenly gets the opportunity to go on the offensive. He rolls MVS flat on his chest, keeping him grounded in the process. Then, standing by his feet with his back close to the ropes, Sean wraps his arms around the Spectacle’s waist and clenches them together, and lifts him off the canvas.... SENDING HIM INTO THE WALL OF THE CAGE WITH A WHEELBARROW SUPLEX!!!!! “Brutal Suplex from Sean Atlas!!” Stevens screams. “That came completely out of nowhere!” “I think Mike just got far too overconfident with that Swinging Neckbreaker,” Riley suggests. “Thinking that Sean wouldn’t move at all until he came back.” “And he suffers for it as Atlas tosses him into the cage, using it well for what was seemingly the first time in this match.” As Mike Van Siclen’s body collapses to the mat, Atlas capitalizes on his newfound advantage and peels him off the canvas. Taking him by the hand, Sean maneuvers his arm between his legs, then hooks the other arm, setting up a pumphandle. He tugs on the lower and pushes on the upper one to lifts Mike off his feet, over his head and falls back, slamming the Spectacle down onto the canvas! With the hand still in his clutches, Sean gets himself and drags Mike to his feet as well. He takes a step back and whips him towards the near side... but rather than let go, Sean holds on and forces Van Siclen to snap right back to him. Spreading his arms wide to catch the Spectacular One, Atlas wraps them around Mike’s body and hooks them together, then pops his hips... And hits a Belly-to-Belly suplex! “Atlas’ advantage is growing here, midway through the bout as he takes it to Mike Van Siclen” notes Grand Slam. “Damn right it’s growing.” Riley says. “He’s beaten Mike twice before, so this is nothing new.” “But he’s never beaten him directly!” Says a fervent Mark Stevens. “A Tag match, yeah. A Triple Threat, sure. But one on one, he’s never defeated The Spectacle.” Forcing himself to stand up, Sean comes to his feet first and slowly drags Mike to his feet. He walks him over into the corner, placing him back first against the turnbuckle pads. Then, grabbing him by the arm once more, Atlas backs up a few steps, whips the arm and launches MVS towards the other corner, pushing on his back to force him to leave his feet and crash into the cage...!!! But Van Siclen lands on the second rope!! Clutching the chain linked wall of the cage, he gets his balance and pulls himself higher onto the top rope. Then, amidst the crowd cheers and camera flashes, Siclen springs off the top rope and flips back, heading right for the slowly-evading body of Sean Atlas.... LANDING ATOP HIM WITH A MOONSAULT! “Mike Van Siclen retaliates, pulling out a Moonsault much to Atlas’ surprise!” excitedly yells Mark Stevens. “But it didn’t catch all of Atlas.” Riley notes. “Sean was backing up just as Van Siclen collided with him, avoiding the brunt of the impact. “But with all these impact moves, neither man has been able to set up a submission hold, outside of the Crossface by Van Siclen.” At any rate, both men rolls away from one another and come to their knees, then to their feet... then in direct eyesight of one another! Atlas charges first, going for a lariat, and runs directly into an Arm Drag from Siclen! As Sean stands up, Mike runs towards him with the same intentions... but falls victim to an Arm Drag from Atlas! Both men stand and sprint towards each other, but this time both grab the other’s hand. They each turn to wrap an arm around their opponent’s head, trapping the neck inside the crook of the elbow....... And they fall to the mat, slamming each other into the canvas with twin Arm Trap Shoulder Neckbreakers!! “It’s coincidence city here in Calgary as Sean Atlas and Mike Van Siclen each use the same move at the same time!” Riley announces. “Though it’s really the same maneuver, Atlas calls that the Immaculate Neckbreaker while MVS dubbed with the Blackjack Neckbreaker.” claims Grand Slam. “Judging from their reactions, it seems Mike took the better of that fall. He’s already on his way to standing while Sean still reels from the impact, further compounded by the earlier Crossface.” Shaking off the impact of the sudden double Neckbreaker, Mike rises to his feet, slower than the last time they each stood up, but still faster than Atlas. He moves on the offensive, taking Sean’s hand and whipping him to the ropes. Atlas reaches the rubber-covered steel and bounces off, once again tipping the metal cage behind him. He returns to Mike and is still a bit too discombobulated to avoid being lifted, tilt-a-whirled around MVS, and lifted onto his shoulders for the DISCORDIAL POWERBOMB.......!!!!!!!!!! !*SLAM*! BUT REVERSES IT INTO A DDT!!!!! “Did I just see what I think I saw???” Asks an animated Riley. “I think so!” Stevens replies. “If what you saw was Atlas seemingly converting Mike’s Powerbomb attempt into a DDT Of his own, then yes, that’s what it was!” “What quick reflexes! What adaptation! Sean Atlas truly is the man.” Riley exclaims. “Yeah...” Mark concurs. “And a bigger man than you’ll ever be.” Atlas rolls away, shaking off the impact of the DDT, which hurt him nearly as much as it did Siclen. He slaws his way down to the ropes, which he uses for leverage to stand up. Mike meanwhile chooses the lay-still-and-rest option and regains his energy as Atlas slowly approaches him. That option turns out to be the worst one though, as Atlas steps over him, faces his feet and lifts his legs up, pulling them back to trap Van Siclen in a Boston Crab!!! “Boston Crab!” yells Riley. “Atlas has Mike locked in a Boston Crab!” “But what kind of strategy is that?” Grand Slam asks. “Atlas hasn’t show consistency at all thus far, changing his area off attack every time MVS defends himself.” “I’m not sure, but this time, he seems to be attacking the back and legs.” Riley replies. “Perhaps he’s not setting up for the Katahajime Choke after all...” Sean pulls back, keeping a tight grip on the legs of the Spectacular One... Referee Eddy Long dives down to Mike’s face, waiting for a sign of submission... Mike shakes his head, refusing to give up as he tries to figure out a way to escape the hold... He claws around in front of him, past the referee, trying to get to the ropes and use them for leverage... They aren’t quite that near though, and he searches for other ways... Above him, Atlas fights to keep the pressure on... He steps further back to get a better angle on the body of Van Siclen, applying more force and more torque to the hold... Doing so prevents MVS from lifting his chest up just as Atlas did to escape from Mike’s submission holds earlier... However, shifting closer to the upper body of the Spectacular one proves to be an error in judgment and his feet are soon taken hold of by Van Siclen! “He’s getting out of it” yells Stevens. “He’s trying to take Atlas’ feet out from under him!” Mike is doing exactly that as he awkwardly reaches back to grab hold of both of Sean’s boots. He pushes them forward (backward to Sean) but that doesn’t quite help as much. Then, with one final surge of power, MVS kicks his legs out, pulling Atlas upper body in one direction just as he pushes on the feet, pulling his lower body in another! Sean Atlas collapses facemask first onto the mat, laying amidst the legs of Van Siclen. Mike, meanwhile, still holding one of Sean’s feet, slithers out form under him, feeling the pain in his back caused by the hold. Quickly, he sits up on his knees, just as Atlas starts trying to crawl away. MVS pulls back on the leg, places it in the crook of the other while stepping over it with his shin as he leans forward, then reaches around Atlas head and struggles to lock his hands together, setting up the Step Over Crossface! “STF!!!!” Yells an excited Mark Stevens. “Mike Van Siclen reverses the Boston Crab into an STF, as both men pour on the submission holds!” “Now I see it!” Riley claims. “Mike is attacking both the legs an neck, working the extremes of Sean’s body. He’s missing one key point, however.” “And what would that be, Riley.” Stevens asks with a smirk on his face. “Which extreme appendage is Siclen not focusing on that you have so much interest in?” “Why do you give me attitude, Mark, why?” Just like during the Crossface earlier, Mike shakes his head to and fro as he applies more pressure to the neck of Sean Atlas... He drags the head close and closer, putting Sean’s neck in an even more awkward angle... He leans in to get a tighter grip, just as the referee comes around to Sean’s face, awaiting a sign of submission... Atlas doesn’t give in though... He ignores Eddy Long’s presence and simply yells in reply, trying to slide out from the hold somehow. Having both hands free is certainly helpful, but as he tries to force Mike’s hands of, his mask starts to slide again and he chooses not to continue with that plan... Instead, he slides his wrists in between his head and Mike’s arms, pushing or pulling, depending on the perspective, him forward.... Against the noise of the crowd and the pain on his head, neck, back and leg, somehow, someway, Atlas manages to force Mike’s arms off his head, falling forward onto the canvas! “And now Atlas escaped A submission hold, though he remains vulnerable!” says Grand Slam. “Depending on how much Mike wants to use that to his advantage, Atlas could be in really big trouble now...” Riley notes, concurringly. MVS lets Sean’s legs go free as he sits up on his knees, coming up with a plan for what to do next. Sean’s continues efforts to escape his holds, though similar to one another, still anger him. He bends forward sliding his arms along Sean’s sides to maneuver them onto Atlas’, then pushes then under Sean’s crossing them around Atlas’ head. Standing up, Mike walks around to Sean’s front and grabs the wrists poking out from the sides of Sean Atlas. He pulls the masked man off the mat, dragging him to a doubled over position and sliding Sean’s head between his legs. Then, in one swift pull, Mike flips Atlas onto his shoulder, as if for a Canadian Backbreaker, inciting much too much excitement from the arena crowd.... “That’s the Riot Act II!” yells Stevens. “Van Siclen’s old finisher!” “No... Not now, that’s not possible...” A concerned Riley says. But there isn’t much to be concerned about as Sean slithers his way out of the position, landing on his feet behind Van Siclen... *OOHHHHH* The crowd reaction says it all as MVS doubles over, crotch in pain after the back-toback low blow from Sean Atlas, who kicked him in the loins after escaping. The “Ooohhhs” turn into boos as Atlas urns Mike around, places him in a standing head scissors and lifts him up, getting MVS onto his shoulders for a Powerbomb!!! “And the tables have turned here in Caged Fury as Atlas now has Mike in the Powerbomb position!” says Riley. “This could spell the end for Van Siclen...” worries Grand Slam. But his worrying is futile once Van Siclen pulls himself back, trying to rana out of the hold. Unfortunately, he doesn’t get too far and is stuck upside down, his legs over Atlas shoulders... Sean desperately tries to bring him back up for the Powerbomb, hoping to use it against Mike to finish him off. He can’t quite do it though and instead, looks to an alternative. He steps over one of Mike’s arms with his right leg and over the other with his left. Quickly the fans begin to recognize what’s coming, but Mike doesn’t see it quickly enough and he feels his body twist, fall, and... !!*CRASH*!! ...ONTO THE CANVAS AS ATLAS HITS THE RIOT ACT!!!!!!! “RIOT ACT!” yells Mark Stevens. “SEAN ATLAS USED THE SPECTACLE’S OWN FINISHER AGAINST HIM!!! “AND MAY THE ATHEIST GOD BLESS HIM FOR IT!” But seeing as how this is a submission match, impact moves can only do so much to help one win. Thus, Sean bends down and bends one of Mike’s limp legs into the crook of the knee of the other. He then bends the second limp led and pulls it up, keeping the first leg steady as he slides MVS’ foot under his shoulder and hoosk both of his arms around the bent leg, locking on something that the SWF hasn’t seen in quite a long time.... “THE TEXAS CLOVERLEAF!!?” Mark yells. “YES!” exclaims Bobby. “The man who once looked like Leatherface from the Texas Chainsaw Massacre has placed Mike Van Siclen in the Texas Cloverleaf, rounding out his Lonestar State references!” “Could this be the end for Van Siclen? Could this finish him off here as Atlas tugs away in a seemingly impossible move to escape?” Referee Eddy Long approaches Mike, asking is he prefers to quit now, or when he loses the feeling in his lower extremities... As usual, he is utterly ignored and replied to with nothing but agonizing grunts... MVS’ back and legs send his spine-tingling pain receptors to the extreme as Sean pulls as hard as his own body allows... His feet no far enough away to prevent reaching from MVS, he seems to be secure... Van Siclen looks around for a way out... He searches high and low for a way to escape the Submission hold... Finding nothing however, he tries to reach back to grab Sean Atlas in any way possible.... Pulling him closer, pushing him away or just grabbing him does nothing to aid in his quest to escape the Texas Cloverleaf, though and quickly, Van Siclen begins to lose hope.... His arms stop their consistent motion... His head stopped turning a while ago... He now shows less resistance as he fades away, eyes closed from lack of consciousness rather than the presence of pain... Not knowing what else to do, eddy Long takes on of his arm and raises it as high as Mike’s anatomy allows... It drops. “ONE!” He does it again, raising it just as high this time.... “TWO!” One more and Mike will have lost this match... Long lifts it and releases... “THR...........NO!” “IT STAYED UP!” yells Mark Stevens! “His arm did not fall, and maybe, just maybe, Mike Van Siclen still has a chance here!! “How! How was he out of energy for the first to times but not for the third??” Riley wonders. “Unbelievable!” As angry as the color man seem though, Sean Atlas is even more furious as he drops the hold, turning around to confront the referee. He approaches Eddy Long, holding up three fingers in a sign of winning the match. But Long replies with only two fingers, signifying that he didn’t. In return Sean sends back a gesture with only one finger, insulting the man in the striped shirt. He turns back to Mike, who lays limply on the floor of the ring. Moving him a bit closer to one of the corners, Sean decides to try something a bit different as he lays Mike down, exposing his back to all kinds of hard impact moves. Turning around, Atlas heads for the corner, climbing the ropes one by one on his way to the top. He uses the cage for balance as he turns around, facing Van Siclen and preparing to hit one of his rare aerial moves on him... But suddenly and much to everyone’s surprise, the Spectacle staggers up, stumbles to the corner and sends his arm flying high in the air, pointed right at the family jewels of the masked man who owns them! The fans reach wildly as Atlas leans forward, grabbing his crotch with one arm and holding on to the cage wall with the other. Van Siclen though, who seems to be running on nothing but adrenaline at this point, pulls him further down, laying him across his shoulders, cradling his neck and legs as he falls away from the corner... AND HITS THE SAINT’S DEMISE ON SEAN ATLAS HIMSELF!!!!!!!!! “THAT’S HOW SWEET REVENGE IS, MY FRIEND!” yells an overly excited Mark Stevens. “Nothing beats using your opponent’s finisher to win! NOTHING!!!” “But he hasn’t won!” Riley complains. “He’s still got to make Atlas submit!” “Keep watching, switch hitter.” Grand Slam replies. Van Siclen recovers from the fall, sits up and rolls Atlas over onto his chest. Pulling his upper body back, Mike stands over the fallen masked man and places each arm on one of his knees in a camel clutch. Then, as expected by the announcers, the audience, and the many fans at home, Van Siclen once again locks his wrists in front of Sean’s face, using the third submission move involving a Crossface... “IT’S THE CARDINAL SIN CLUTCH!” Stevens hollers. “IT’S ALL OVER FOR SEAN ATLAS!” “Nooo! Not this way! Not on Pay Per View!” Riley yells. “Inside a steel cage with no escape, no interference and no one but you and your opponent, Mike Van Siclen is about to triumph in front of millions!” proudly announces Mark Stevens. And the situation in the ring reflects it as the submission hold takes its toll on Atlas, for the first time, taking away the use of his arms.... Behind the mask and Mike’s hands, he screams, yelling for someone to come and help him.... No one can though, and the only person to appear is the referee, provoking him and asking for submission... Sean refuses though.... He will not tap on anything and cannot pronounce the words “I Quit”, even if he wanted to.... Instead, he simply drifts away, must like Van Siclen did moments ago, and shuts his eyes, already hardly visible behind the stained-white leather mask... Stuck in the Camel Clutch position with a Crossface hold on his head, Atlas s powerless as Eddy Long lifts his arm in the air... It drops. “ONE!” He lifts it again, stretching it as high as Sean’s anatomy allows... It drops again. “TWO!” “The referee lifts it up again, straight as an arrow... AND ATLAS ESCAPES!!! “WHAT????” asks Grand Slam. “How did he just get out of that??” “Oh, what an evil genius!” Riley says. “He pretended to be unconscious so that Long would lift his arm, allowing him to escape the camel clutch and twist out of it! Fucking BRILLIANT!” “But why did he wait for the third time to do it??” Stevens asks. “Mind games, Mark. Mind games.” Says Riley. “He made Siclen think the match is nearly over and got everyone to believe the same. Slick, effective, and just plain wicked!” Atlas crawls away, slithering out from under Van Siclen and recovers at the edge of the ring, leaning on the ropes. An irate Mike Van Siclen staggers up and approaches Atlas, greeting him with the sole of his shoe. He lifts Sean off the canvas and faces his back, locking his arms in a Full Nelson. Backing in towards the corner, Mike tightens his grip and plants his feet to attempt something he’s never really tried before... He pops his hips and tosses Atlas over his head as he falls, releasing him midway... AND HITS THE DRAGON SUPLEX INTO THE CORNER OF THE CAGE!!!!! “WHAT STRENGTH!” exclaims Mark. “What agility from Van Siclen!!” To be able to lift Sean Atlas up like that? Un-freakin-believale!” “But what was the point of that? What is he setting up now???” That question begins to be answered as Van Siclen comes up to Sean, seated on the top turnbuckle and holding his aching back. Mike lowers his head, inserting it under Atlas as he forces Sean to stand up on the middle rope. Then, with his arms wrapped around the masked man’s legs, Mike stands atop the bottom rope, leaning back lightly so as to force Sean forward... “It looks like... It looks like an elevated VAN SLAMINATOR!!!!!” yells Stevens. His guess is proven true as Van Siclen falls back further, Sean’s body doubled over, back to chest, quickly heading towards the hard and unforgiving canvas... But in mid-fall, just as Mike tips farther back on the bottom rope, Atlas slides down, grabbing MVS’s waist as he falls, letting his feet hit the ground rather than his head and pushes Mike down for a SUNSET FLIP POWERBOMB!!!!! “HE REVERSES IT!” Riley screams. “SEAN TURNED THINGS AROUND IN MID-AIR, POWERBOMBING MIKE VAN SICLEN INTO THE RING!!!” “That was supposed to be a Van Slaminator!” complains Stevens. “Mike had the match all wrapped up!!!” “Well he should have used better wrapping paper!” says Riley, then smiles at the horrible pun he tried to make. Meanwhile, Sean Atlas stands leaning on the turnbuckle pads, supporting Mike’s legs with his own. Suddenly, he lunges forward, grabbing both legs and stepping through them, planting his foot to the side. He crossed Siclen’s legs across his on leg, hooks them around with his ar, , the flips Mike over on his chest and rears back, successfully locking on the one move that he was counting on to win the match for him... “THE SHARPSHOOTER!!!!” yells Riley. “IT’S THE SHARPSHOOTER BY SEAN ATLAS!” “This has to be it for Van Siclen! There’s no more to the threshold of pain a man can stand!” states Grand Slam. As Atlas leans back, pulling away at the legs of MVS, the horrible tortures caused by the Boston Crab and Texas Cloverleaf return to Siclen, mounting as the Sharpshooter adds more... He watches the referee climb around into the small space near the corner that he just stood in moments ago, positioned very close to him.... Long asks for submission but heads nothing but muffled screaming from the Spectacle, not looking as spectacular as he usually does... Slowly, Mike tries to make his way to that corner, hopefully using the turnbuckle pads for leverage... He claws his way here and there, making ground very gradually until he forces Sean to take a step or two back... Atlas’ own ability to hold the submission is fading as he’s suffered more than he expected tonight... Thus, he can do nothing as Mike reaches the corner, propping himself up on the bottom rope...! He places both hands on it, then pulls and pushes his body weight to force Sean forward, testing his stamina... His screams are drowned away by the crowd noise, so loud that even the commentators stay quiet to allow the moment to present itself... Will Van Siclen force Atlas to release the hold? Will Sean Atlas prove to have more vitality in his soul and outlast the Spectacular One? “HE LETS GO!” yells Stevens. “Who?” “ATLAS!!!!!!!” Sean Atlas drops the legs, collapsing forward while trying to catch his breath... Meanwhile, Van Siclen keeps the grip on the rope, holding it like a security blanket after it saved the match for him. Through the chain links in the very seldom used Cage in this match, Mike sees the fans beyond it cheer for him, his ability to overpower Sean Atlas and his determination to win this match.... But sooner than he expected, and enrages man within this cage, between these ropes and inside this ring pulls him away from the security of the corner. Sean crossed MVS’ legs at the shin level, then falls to his knees to keep them in place. Leaning forward, Atlas reaches around Mike’s head, slithering one arm around his neck and the other around his shoulder, securing them tightly enough to lock in... “THE KATAHAJIME CHOKE!” proclaims Bobby Riley. “ATLAS’ SIGNATURE SUBMISSION WITH AN ADDED LEG HOLD!” “This can’t be it.. this can’t be!” Stevens says. “It’s not just, nor is it fair or right! Mike Van Siclen deserves to win! He deserves to persevere over this wicked malice once and for all!” “But that wicked malice will not allow it!” Riley insists. “And in a few short moment you’ll see who the better man of the two really is.” Van Siclen knows this feeling all too well: A referee in his face, his legs pushed one way, and now his head pulled another way... The pain that’s been visiting his body is slowly moving in, settling down and leaving traces of long-lasting damage in his flesh and bones... His screams, those of the fans and the constant remarks from Eddy Long add up to one big aura of noise, unshakeable and unbearable... Atlas screams as well as he pulls on the arm and neck, allowing the one free arm to flail wildly... Siclen tries reaching back, but can’t bend that far to get Sean’s head... He accidentally hits his own back, his head, Sean’s arm and the referee, but nothing that will help him escape this hold... Slowly but surely, the arm slows down in its movement, grows less lively and just spasms occasionally until it falls weakly to the mat... The referee looks at Van Siclen’s face, watching it grow paler from the choke hold... He lifts the arm, obviously limp and weak, different from the way Sean’s arm felt earlier... He extends it high in the air, giving it plenty of room to fall where it needs to... and drops it. It falls. “ONE!” He lifts it again... It falls. “TWO!” It’s lifted a third time, and apparently the finally time in this match... It falls. And comes back up!!! “WHAT?” yells Stevens. “HE’S STILL IN IT!” “NO! HIS ARM HIT THE MAT!” Riley claims. “BUT IT’S LIVELY AND MOVING!” Siclen once again flails the arm, spurring the crowd on for one last stand! Atlas’ eyes widen behind the mask as he tightens the hold, reacting to this strange turn of events! Mike’s arm, alive and well, shakes up and down, reaching this way and that, trying to find a way to end this pain, end this hold, and end this bloody match...! And the lively arm finds it on the surface of the ring as it falls to the canvas... And falls to the canvas... And falls to the canvas... And falls... And falls... And falls... ... DING-DING-DING! “Ladies and Gentleman, the winner of the Cagey Fury Match.... SSSEEEEAAAANNN AAAATTLLAAASS!!!!” announces Funyon. “So that’s it then?” asks a sarcastic Mark Stevens. “This is what we do here, allow the antagonists to prosper? Allow the guys who cheat to earn their victories to dominate those who try with all their might to triumph?” “If that’s the way the matchups are, then yes we do.” replies Riley as the ring attendants return. “Keep in mind” Riley continues “that not one drop of blood was spilled in this match, despite the steel cage. Not once did anybody try to escape and reach for a weapon. Neither man scaled the walls of the steel structure to show the other up and fly from the top. This was a man-to-man, one on one Submission match confined to the wresting ring and nothing more.” “Well put Riley, and when described that way, I have no right to complain about the outcome.” Says Stevens as the cage is released from the ring, providing us all with a better view of the combatants inside, nearly passed out from the twenty-plus minutes of action. The camera zooms in on both wrestlers’ beaten bodies, sweaty and bruised from the brutal battle that they’ve been through. The announcers stay silent amidst the jeering, allowing the additional referees to help Sean Atlas and Mike Van Siclen out of the ring. Meanwhile, the cage rises above the squared circle and ring tech prepare it for the hardcore battle featuring Jay Dawg and Va’aiga to follow. Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Guest Suicide King Report post Posted June 23, 2003 ::Fade in:: “Hello this is Ben Hardy here with “The Franchise” Mak Francis and – oh dear god!” Ben shrinks under Francis, as he pumps like he’s going to hit him. “Just kidding Hardy, I’m just messing with ya’. Really it’s okay… I just wanted to see if I still had it.” Hardy looks at him still a little unsure before continuing. “…Okay… Mak, you face Michael Craven on Tonight’s 13th Hour PPV in a rematch of sorts for the US Title. What are your thoughts?” Mak faces the camera, tilting his shades, as Ben holds the mic for him. “Well, Mike thinks that he’s got it all over me. That because he put me out for three long months, forced me to push myself the hardest I could, so I could get back in a ring, just to get nailed in the knee again… he thinks that means I’m easy pickings, but even at less than one hundred percent I still have a few tricks up my sleeve. Oh and if I have anything to say about it you will tap ASH! If we’re in the heat of battle and I have the pin, I’ll take it, but know that if it can happen, you will tap. That’s a promise that, sooner rather than later, I’m going to keep.” “Well you’ve brought up your health which is another issue of this match. Are you really okay to wrestle?” “I’m five by five B. Hardy. The crutch shot to my leg did soften me up, no doubt about it, but I can push through and I’ve got a few things to get off my chest. I couldn’t stand being away from the ring. It’s my second home! When I first got injured, they said six months, maybe more, many not even at all! I mean I accomplished a lot of great things in this business, but there is still so much more I can do! Retirement just ain’t in the cards right now.” “So you’ll push through and persevere. But what if Michael Craven is able to defeat you and re-injure your knee, like it seems he wishes to do?” “People asked me isn’t having a life more important than this. Isn’t being able to play with my kids, if I ever get around to it, worth stopping. This business that I love. It’s what I was born to excel in! This IS MY LIFE. This is the way to become the man that I’m supposed to be…” Mak pauses for a moment at the thought. The man he’s supposed to be. He can’t let himself fail this time and you can see it in his eyes. His brown eyes hidden behind blue, somber shades. There’s more than meets the eye to this statement… “So, while you may not know all the reasons for why I’m back, the fact still remains… I’m back! And EVERBODY needs to BACK THE MAK!” Francis stops smirking and looks at Ben for a moment, then back to the camera. “I still have promises to keep Hardy… and I intend on doing just that.” ““The Franchise” Mak Francis folks.” says Ben Hardy, as Mak leaves the interview backdrop and the 13th Hour goes back to another video package. ::Fade to video package:: Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Guest Suicide King Report post Posted June 23, 2003 Mark Stevens: Well it’s been a massive PPV Card so far, packed with more twists and turns than anyone watching could have expected. Bobby Riley: Anything CAN happen in the SWF, Grand Slam, and something’s about to happen now. Why don’t you tell the good people who’s pumped their hard earned cash to listen to me what it is? Mark Stevens: Well Bobby we’ve got one dangerous looking match coming up as The Hardcore Maniac himself, Jamie “Jay Dawg” Drazon gets to initiate Va’aiga as the Maori Badass makes his long awaited SWF debut. Bobby Riley: Long awaited by who Mark? I mean Va’aiga is unprofessional, nasty tempered, violent, near psychopathic and just loves beating guys up. Mark Stevens: And that makes him different from Jay Dawg HOW exactly? Bobby Riley: …lets go to Funyon for the introductions. Funyon: The following match is a NO DIQUALIFICATION match scheduled for one fall. Multiple Fireworks explode around the arena, rafters and entrance ramp. The lights go out... "THIS IS MAH HOUSE!!" The voice, obviously pre recorded, echoes through the arena. Rammstein's 'Du Haste' plays without the lyrics... The heavy beats thunder 360 degrees all over the arena... Jamie Drazon steps through the curtains, his head down. He walks to the top of the ramp, dragging a trashcan full of plunder behind him and slowly raising his head. He lowers his head again, although a smile without good intentions is now plastered on his face. Funyon: Introducing first, from Vancouver, British Columbia, weighing in tonight at a chilselled 243lbs, he is the Hardcore Maniac and the man who’s Revenge is to be feared… JAAAAAAMIE “JAAAAAAY DAAAAAAWG” DRAAAAAAAAAAZOOON! Jamie Drazon enters the ring, kicks over the trashcan spilling weapons across the ring, placing his hands on his thighs, and slowly cricks his neck. Then steps back into the corner, and rests on the turnbuckles in wait for his opponent. Funyon: And his opponent making his SWF debut tonight and representing the Unholy Trinity, weighing in at 285lbs and hailing from the island of the long cloud, New Zealand… This is the Maori Badass, VAAAAAAAAAAAA’AAAAAAAAAAAIIIIIIIIIIIIGGGGAAAAAAAAA The arena drops to darkness, as Va'aiga's shadow appears in the entranceway, dressed in his hooded training top with the hood down. The bassline of "Bring The Pain" by Method Man starts up and red strobe lights pierce the darkness of the entrance ramp as Va'aiga begins his slow walk to the ring, throwing a few phantom jabs on the way. The Smarktron shows images of Va'aiga shadow boxing and posing, cut with some of his biggest in ring hits - Maori Dropping Thor, Maori Dropping a ladder onto Tryst, the chairshot on Spike Jenkins, Maori Dropping John Duran, smashing Crow with a chair, staring off with Janus, smashing the disco ball with his fist to grab the contract inside, Maori Dropping Spike Jenkins... Inside the ring Va'aiga rolls down his hood and raises his fists to the crowd, then takes off his top and throws it to a ring assistant before firing off the Maori handsign. Mark Stevens: Well this match should be violent and brutal. Bobby Riley: Look at the ring Mark, it’s already full of toys for Jay Dawg to play with. Mark Stevens: Jamie Drazon has brought a few weapons into this match already, and it hasn’t even started yet. This is going to be a wild and crazy battle. The referee calls for the bell and Drazon and Va’aiga lock up quickly. Va’aiga muscles Jay Dawg back a few paces, carefully stepping over a Singapore cane and muscles Jay Dawg over to claim the advantage of a standing wristlock over Drazon’s head. Jay Dawg steps through to reverse the pressure then wrenches Va’aiga’s arm around behind his back with a hammerlock, but Va’aiga counters with a snapmare. Va’aiga applies a side headlock but Jay Dawg powers up to a vertical base from his seated position and fires an elbow into Va’aiga’s ribs to force the Maori Badass to break the hold. Drazon spins round looking to whip one of his Muay Thai roundhouse kicks at Va’aiga but the Maori Badass catches the leg and hits a single leg trip, taking Jay Dawg down to the mat, landing the Hardcore Maniac on a stop sign! Va’aiga drops to the mount position but Jay Dawg draws on his shoot fighting experience and applies the guard to prevent Va’aiga from hitting any ground and pound strikes. Mark Stevens: A quick start to this match here with both of these fine athletes showing the wrestling sides of their move set. Bobby Riley: Jamie Drazon is such a good shoot fighter on top of his hardcore side, he’s not going to get caught in Va’aiga’s blundering offense. Stuck in the guard there’s very little you can do but fire off little heel kicks and wait it out, especially with no fence to work your opponent up against. Va’aiga struggles to land some soft blows to Jamie Drazon’s ribs, but the Jay Dawg sits there absorbing the powerless blows while feeling around looking for a submission. Va’aiga lifts Jay Dawg off the mat and hits a 6 inch powerbomb to try and force Jay Dawg to break, but Drazon keeps his legs wrapped firmly around Va’aiga’s back and his arms round the back of the Maori Badass’ neck. Va’aiga frees off an arm and tries to land a massive pounding strike, but Jay Dawg senses the break and slides up the guard, trapping Va’aiga’s arm in a crucifix armbar. Va’aiga jolts himself around in the hold then reaches out for the first object to hand, a lead pipe, and arcs his arm across himself bringing the heavyweight piece of plumbing across Drazon’s legs, making Jay Dawg break the hold. Both men stand and Va’aiga shakes his arm down. Bobby Riley: Wow, Mark, I’m amazed! I’m totally stunned! Mark Stevens: Why, Bobby? Bobby Riley: That actually looked a bit like, and you may be shocked by this, WRESTLING! Mark Stevens: And why would that be shocking? Bobby Riley: Wrestling in a Va’aiga vs Jamie Drazon hardcore match? Va’aiga flips the lead pipe casually over in his hand, getting a feel for the weapon as Drazon composes himself. Va’aiga charges at Drazon and swings the heavyweight weapon at Jay Dawg’s head, but the hardcore maniac ducks and sweeps Va’aiga’s leg out from under him. Jay Dawg drops to a knee hitting a fistdrop into Va’aiga’s stomach and then reaches for a weapon of his own. Finding a crutch to hand, Jay Dawg stands and lines up Va’aiga’s leg, dropping to his knees and bringing the crutch down with a massive overhand strike. Drazon stands again and brings the crutch down across Va’aiga’s leg for a second time, splintering the crutch in the process and as Va’aiga lays on the mat holding onto his leg, Jay Dawg casually discards the crutch and looks for something else to play with. Mark Stevens: It looks like Jay Dawg is getting into his stride early in this match. Bobby Riley: Isolate a body part and attack it until you win, the opponent taps or it falls off and you can take it home as a trophy. And in this hardcore setting Jamie Drazon is well placed to attack that leg until is DOES fall off. Drazon looks around for another weapon, but misses Va’aiga standing again, and the Maori Badass backs up a couple of steps ready to launch a charge at the Hardcore Maniac. Va’aiga rushes Jay Dawg and shapes for one of his trademark running tackles, but Jay Dawg turns round to reveal he’s picked up the stop sign, and the Maori Badass crashes into it shoulder first. The impact of the blow takes Drazon clean out of the ring, flying in between the middle and top ropes, as Va’aiga hops back, clutching his shoulder. Bobby Riley: He should have read the sign there! When someone holds cold hard steel in your path, you stop! Drazon regains his composure outside the ring as Va’aiga slides out with a baseball slide, casually dodged by Drazon. Drazon goes to whip the newly deposited outside Va’aiga, but the Maori Badass do-see-dos and whips Jay Dawg into the guardrail. As Drazon staggers on the rail, Va’aiga rushes him and hits a massive lariat, sending Jay Dawg over the rail into the fans. Va’aiga picks Drazon up by the hair and leads him through the audience, stopping to take a big swig off a fan’s beer and spit it into Jay Dawg’s face, to a MASSIVE cheer from the fans. Va’aiga leads Jay Dawg up to the mezzanine and looks around for some improvised weaponry, finding little but a mobile concessions stall. Va’aiga lifts Jay Dawg over a shoulder and scoop slams him onto the stall, then gives it a solid push, sending the stall flying into the barricade that separates an aisle from the drop down to the toilets area, but Jay Dawg just gets juddered and falls off the side rather than falling over the top as intended. Mark Stevens: This brawl is headed into the crowd as the Badass and the Maniac each try to prove their superiority. Bobby Riley: And it appears that Va’aiga isn’t afraid of wasting good beer to prove he’s the superior hardcore athlete, if such a thing exists. Which reminds me, stay tuned for the Superior One later tonight, as he faces the Boston Strangler in the MAIN EVENT! Mark Stevens: I’m so stoked for that main event clash, Riley, I really am. But let’s get back to the match in hand. Va’aiga goes up to Jay Dawg as the Hardcore Maniac is lying in the aisle, but as the Maori Badass reaches down to pick up JD, Drazon uppercuts the massive Maori RIGHT in the balls! The crowd oohs in sympathy and even offers a little round of boos for that sneaky technique, and Jay Dawg stands and begins leading Va’aiga back down through the aisle to ringside, stopping at a second merchandise stand nearer the front to steal an Unholy Trinity T-shirt and choke Va’aiga out with his own merchandise! Jay Dawg pushes Va’aiga off the stairs and the Maori Badass rolls down the final few steps, coming to a rest against the guardrail. Jay Dawg stops to offer the shirt to a fan before snatching it away again before the young kid can touch it, throw the shirt to the floor, stamp and spit on it. Mark Stevens: I’m sure that’s designed to antagonize Va’aiga. Or maybe just doesn’t like the Unholy Trinity. Bobby Riley: Well he’s had problems with Danny Williams before, and Dace Night has the Hardcore Gamers championship, so why WOULDN’T Jay Dawg hate the Trinity. Mark Stevens: Well whether Dace will STILL have that belt around his waist after facing CIA in a last man standing match later tonight is unsure. As is whether Jay Dawg will walk out of here as #1 contender, as the Maori Badass is far from beaten. Va’aiga dusts himself off a little and rests against the guardrail as Jay Dawg comes bounding down the steps at him after the little show of disrespect for the Maori Badass and his associates. Jay Dawg gets a head of steam up and charges at the vulnerable Va’aiga, but the massive Maori ducks a clothesline and backdrops Jay Dawg over the guardrail back to the ringside area. Va’aiga picks Drazon up and slings him into the ring and for the first time in the match Eddy Long is called into action as Va’aiga drops for the cover… ONE! TWO! TH.. and Jay Dawg lifts a shoulder. Mark Stevens: Man that looked close! Bobby Riley: Close? CLOSE? Jay Dawg would NEVER get pinned this early in the match. That was nowhere near and you know it Grand Slam! Mark Stevens: A two count is a two count none the less. That has to unsettle Jay Dawg at the very least. Va’aiga grabs for Drazon’s trash can and places it deliberately in the middle or the ring on it’s side. Lifting Jamie Drazon to his feet Va’aiga whips Jay Dawg into the ropes and jacks the Hardcore Maniac into the air, extending Jay Dawg’s body and watching the Hardcore Superstar land stomach first over the trashcan, crumpling it flat with a Jamie Drazon shaped print across it. Va’aiga: BOO-YAH! The crowd cheers for the Maori Badass as the meat hook like fists are raised to the sky, and Va’aiga follows up on Jay Dawg with a series of quick stomps and a massive Maori elbow drop. Va’aiga grabs Drazon’s arm as the Maori lifts the Canadian for his next attack and whips Jay Dawg into the ropes again, and as Jay Dawg rebounds Va’aiga picks up a baseball bat from the spilled plunder still littering the ring and smashes it into the rebounding Drazon’s ribs. Va’aiga sends a second shot across Drazon’s back then steps round to the side of the Hardcore Maniac, and holding the bat across Drazon’s ribcage, Va’aiga hits a massive Side Maori Legsweep sending both men down to the canvas. Va’aiga floats over to cover… ONE! TWO! THR.. and Jay Dawg kicks out. Bobby Riley: Look at the reserves of strength! Look at the heart! Look at the sheer guts of Jamie Drazon! Mark Stevens: And hasn’t Va’aiga shown all of these characteristics so far in this match too? Bobby Riley: Nope, just Jay Dawg. Va’aiga’s all adrenaline and little skill, and that’ adrenaline is gonna run out, and the big lunkhead’s gonna lose. That’s my prediction. Va’aiga lifts Jay Dawg up and fires a few softening body blows into the ribs of Drazon. Va’aiga lifts Drazon up and drops him across Va’aiga’s big Maori knee with a backbreaker. Va’aiga rolls Jay Dawg onto his stomach and places the stop sign across JD’s back. Picking up a golf club, Va’aiga mockingly does a practice swing, looking out into the audience to see where his invisible ball had landed before turning to Jay Dawg and SMASHING the club over JD’s, buckling the stop sign and bending the shaft of the club! Va’aiga hurls the stop sign out of the ring and sits atop Drazon’s back, placing the Hardcore Maniac’s arms over his knees and then applying a modified Kiwi Clutch, using the bent golf club to apply the rear chin lock! Jamie Drazon responds with his usual half smile half grimace as he looks as ever to be perversely enjoing the pain of the hold as the Maori Badass wrenches back on his neck and back. Mark Stevens: This modified double leg crab hold is an evil move. Not only does it affect the neck, but the upper back as well, and in addition if applied as a choke can deny oxygen to the lungs of the recipient. Bobby Riley: Yeah and Va’aiga IS choking Jay Dawg. That’s illegal, Stevens. Mark Stevens: Nothing’s illegal in this sort of match up. Bobby Riley: Bah, the referee should break it up anyway, just on general principle. Va’aiga cranks hard back on Drazon’s neck and back as he tightens his grip, leaning back into the golf assisted crab. Jay Dawg inches forward towards the ropes as Va’aiga wrenches and ever so slowly the pair make progress towards the edge of the ring. Drazon attempts to free an arm out but Va’aiga leans WELL back, taking Jay Dawg’s focus away from freeing up a limb and towards the pain again. Jay Dawg inches the pair ropewards again and stretching out manages to grab hold of the bottom rope but Eddy Long shakes his head as Drazon asks for the break. Bobby Riley: Hey Stevens? Where’s the break. This is blatant referee favouritism towards the Maori Badass. Mark Stevens: Well Riley, in a match with no disqualifications, why would you be DQ’d for grabbing a rope while applying a submission hold? Bobby Riley: Actually that’s a good point! That’s what, two this year already Grand Slam! When you’re on a roll… Frustrated, Jay Dawg flails around briefly in the hold, then his smile changes to an expression of revelation as he attempts to wheel the Crab round, using the ropes for a little extra leverage to maneuver. Va’aiga fights to resist being turned as he wrenches back on Jay Dawg’s neck and back again, but Jamie Drazon is a man determined and turns the hold round through 90 degrees and reaches out for a tire iron, one of the few remaining pieces of plunder left on the canvas. Va’aiga tries to re-apply the hold fully, but as the Maori Badass leans down, Drazon CLOCKS him with the tire iron and Va’aiga falls off backwards, a stunned expression crossing his Maori face. Mark Stevens: Well that was an… innovative counter to Va’aiga’s hold there. Bobby Riley: It’s making the best use of the stipulations that wins you matches like this, Mark, and you have to admit Jamie Drazon just showed he knows how to use hardcore props to his advantage. Mark Stevens: Given his record in this sort of match you wouldn’t doubt that Jay Dawg knows how to use this kind of stipulation. Va’aiga stumbles to his feet, a little dazed as Jay Dawg follows in with a tire iron shot to the leg, sending the big Maori hopping backwards. Jay Dawg backs Va’aiga up to the ropes with a series of rapid fire punches with his free hand, and then with a massive tire iron swipe to Va’aiga’s upper chest, sends the big Maori over the top rope to the outside. Jay Dawg shakes himself down a little and prepares himself as Va’aiga staggers to his feet. Jay Dawg prepares himself and launches himself into a MASSIVE tope to the outside, tire iron first, Knocking Va’aiga over clean and sending the Maori Badass skidding a few feet up the entrance ramp. Mark Stevens: What a blow! Va’aiga sent FLYING there by that suicide dive. Bobby Riley: Jay Dawg will do ANYTHING to get the upper hand over his opponent, and he put his body on the line there. And guess what? It paid off. That’s what I like about Jamie Drazon, he’s crazy, but the crazy stuff WORKS. Jay Dawg picks himself up and dusts himself down, walking Va’aiga to alongside the entrance ramp with a side headlock then ramming the big Maori’s head against first the entrance ramp, then turning and SLAMMING the Maori Badass into one of the steel rigs holding up the clock filled set. Jay Dawg mounts the rig, climbing up to a low placed clock and smashes it free of the housing, sending it CRASHING down onto the stumbling Va’aiga below! Bobby Riley: Wow, Va’aiga really got CLOCKED there Mark… Mark Stevens: Very good… Bobby Riley: CLOCKED… get it? Clocked? ‘Cos he got hit with a… Mark Stevens: Yeah we all understand Riley. Can we please just call the match and leave the lame humor for other people? Drazon positions himself carefully on the rig and looks down onto the fallen Maori, topped with a side serving of oversized clock and grins his evil grin. Composing himself for a second Jay Dawg LEAPS off the scaffold, flipping forward and hitting a rolling senton onto the clock, smashing the piece of the set all over the fallen Maori, Jay Dawg rolls off and stands to strike a celebratory pose, showing the small cuts that are all over Va’aiga’s body. Drazon picks Va’aiga up off the mat and applying a side headlock leads the Maori Badass off into the technical area by the side of the entrance ramp. Mark Stevens: You have to wonder what Jamie Drazon has in mind for the Maori Badass in this his SWF debut. Bobby Riley: Violence, violence and more violence. Jay Dawg is taking the massive Maori to school in the fine art of kicking ass, SWF style. Drazon smashes Va’aiga’s face into an SWF crate of unspecified electrical doohickeys, sending the Maori reeling backwards with the impact. Jay Dawg capitalizes by sliding behind Va’aiga and taking the Maori Badass down to the wire littered concrete with a Side Russian leg sweep, before adding a few extra stomps to Va’aiga’s leg. Jamie Drazon picks Va’aiga up off the floor and whips him out of the technical area through the assistant’s curtain where the two crazed wrestlers go temporarily out of sight. Mark Stevens: Can we get a camera back there? Jamie Drazon and Va’aiga have disappeared into the backstage area. Bobby Riley: What ARE these maniacs up to? Where are they going? Mark Stevens: Well the sooner we get a cameraman down there, the sooner we can find out. A camera finally follows the pair backstage as Va’aiga goes flying into a bunch of crates in the backstage area. Jay Dawg walks over to a couple of members of the backstage crew sitting back and enjoying a coffee break. Drazon pushes over one of the crew and grabs the other one’s mug of coffee, rushing over to Va’aiga and SMASHING it over the Maori Badass’ head! Bobby Riley: That’s a lucky mug! Or not if you’re a Va’aiga fan. Mark Stevens: Jamie Drazon and Va’aiga are taking the violence backstage, this is a whole new level of chaos being displayed here. Bobby Riley: I wouldn’t like to be that intrepid cameraman. I bet it’s Gus. Give the public a wave Gus! A hand waves in front of the camera as Jay Dawg grabs a piece of electrical cable and wraps it round the neck of the Maori Badass, wrenching the cable assisted choke in hard. Va’aiga struggles and frees himself with a pair of elbow smashes to Drazon’s chest and then grabs for an arm of Jay Dawg, whipping him into a door in the side corridor, which bends backwards a little, and then flies open as Va’aiga charges and SPEARS THEM BOTH THROUGH THE DOOR! Jay Dawg and Va’aiga are left sprawled on the tiled floor as the sound of women screaming and running around fills the viewer’s TV sets… Mark Stevens: They’re not are they? Bobby Riley: I think they are…. Mark Stevens: Va’aiga and Drazon… are in the women’s toilets. Va’aiga assumes the mount position, but for a second time in the match Jay Dawg counters into the Gracie Guard, stopping Va’aiga from landing any meaningful blows. Va’aiga again tries a modified powerbomb, and with the cold hard tiling of the backstage bathroom facilities that the Saddledome has provided it’s enough to force JD to break his guard. Va’aiga backs off and reaches for a foreign object, finding a bottle of SHAMPOO by the sinks, and the Maori Badass pours it over the fallen Jay Dawg’s face. Va’aiga grabs Jay Dawg and SMASHES his head into one of the sinks, breaking the tap sending a shower of water over the blinded Jay Dawg’s head. Bobby Riley: These fine athletes always keep up a high level of conditioning. Mark Stevens: Will you give it a REST? Va’aiga grabs Jay Dawg and goes to whip Mr Drazon back through the door, but Jay Dawg do-see-dos and the Maori Badass goes flying through the door crashing into a pile of STEEL construction pipes. Jay Dawg grabs a towel and wipes off his face, clearing the shampoo from his eyes and follows Va’aiga out, pushing Gus out of his way, causing the picture to wobble a little. Drazon stomps away at Va’aiga’s leg and picks up the now hobbling Maori, leading him down the corridor by another side headlock. The pair pass by the locker rooms, and there are a few wrestlers hanging around the place, stretching and preparing for their match. Va’aiga ducks a little and hip throws Jay Dawg over him to the floor and calls out… Va’aiga: Danny! Chair me! Out of the corner of his eye, and the screen, Va’aiga spots Danny Williams and the Deathwish one throws a chair over to the Maori Badass who catches it one handed and then SMASHES it down over the head of Jay Dawg. Va’aiga grabs the stunned Dawg by the hair and drags him through to the entrance gates. The pair walk through the curtains, past Suicide King in the Gorilla Position and out into the stage area again! The audience goes BANANAS as the pair walk back into view, both looking battered and bruised from the violence backstage, Jay Dawg soaking wet and Va’aiga hobbling and covered in small cuts over his back. Mark Stevens: Well it seems that Va’aiga and Drazon have decided to join us in the arena again. All that backstage segment and that mindless violence is gonna have to build to a head back in the ring. Bobby Riley: That’s the advantage with these “pin in the ring” stipulations, doesn’t matter where the violence goes down, it all ends right in front of the fans in the middle of the ring. Va’aiga leads Jay Dawg back down the entrance ramp, hobbling slowly as he goes, and back to ring side, firing a few sweet punches into the FACE of Jay Dawg to make the Hardcore Maniac flinch, before slinging Drazon back under the bottom rope and into the ring. Va’aiga rolls in after him and stomps away at Jay Dawg’s ribs before dropping the hammer with a BIIIG splash down across the ribs of the longtime hardcore star. Va’aiga hooks a leg and Eddy Long drops to count, having followed round the two maniac wrestlers during their backstage exploits. ONE! TWO! THR.. and Drazon kicks out. Mark Stevens: What fortitude has been shown here by Jay Dawg, he’s been pummeled, pushed, pulled and pulverized all through this arena and he STILL KICKED OUT! Bobby Riley: It takes a lot more than a few shoves and weapon shots to dispose of Jamie Drazon. He’s hardcore TO the core. Va’aiga turns to Eddy Long to remonstrate about the shortness of the count and Jay Dawg reaches for the lead pipe again – uppercutting Va’aiga to the balls with a pipeshot from the mat! Va’aiga drops painfully to his knees and Drazon fires off a Thai roundhouse kick HARD into Va’aiga’s head sending the Maori Badass down to the canvas. Jay Dawg retrieves the stop sign from the outside and sets it up in the center of the ring, before lifting up Va’aiga, throwing his elbow behind Va’aiga, using the higher leverage to pull the Maori into a martial arts like facelock, extending into the air lifting the throat with choke, then lowering Va’aiga into the JD DDT onto the sign! JD drops for a pinfall attempt and Eddy Long drops to count! ONE! TWO! THR.. and Va’aiga kicks out. Mark Stevens: It looks like Va’aiga has the fortitude to last through hardcore matches like this too! Bobby Riley: I just don’t think the Maori Badass’ brain is working well enough for him to realize how much of a beating he’s taken. Heart and stamina’s one thing, but a lack of realization of your own peril is a powerful tool. Still the Unholy Trinity has a number of big tools at their disposal, and this is just one of them. Mark Stevens: You’re not referring to Va’aiga as a “Big Tool” Bobby Riley: Now WOULD I? Drazon stomps and kicks away at Va’aiga’s knee, frustrated a little with the Maori Badass and trying desperately to inflict as much pain as a sadistic Canadian can deal. Jay Dawg grabs a leg of Va’aiga and applies a spinning toe hold. JD torques the leg round as the crowd boos this effort, causing a wicked smile to cross Drazon’s face again. The Jay Dawg twists the toe round a second time and Va’aiga writhes on the mat trying to struggle free from the hold. A third torque round of the toe hold sends waves of pain shooting through Va’aiga’s leg and Jay Dawg rolls through looking for his Whiplash powerbomb… but Va’aiga adjusts his weight mid roll and collapses on top of Jay Dawg! Eddy Long puts on the count! ONE! TWO! TH… and Jamie Drazon kicks out, getting to his feet promptly and cursing. Mark Stevens: A close count on that reversal by Va’aiga. That caught Jamie Drazon off guard. Bobby Riley: Jay Dawg is used to inflicting pain and he’s no stranger to receiving it. What might shock him is seeing the big Maori try to out tech him! Mark Stevens: Having seen some of the Maori Badass’ previous work, including a true technical classic against his now partner Dace Night, underneath all the power and bluster I can vouch there IS a technical wrestler. Bobby Riley: I guess it’s that he keeps that side buried so deep inside the Badass; it’s a shock when he draws on that side of his abilities. Jay Dawg kicks furiously away at Va’aiga’s leg as the Maori Badass rolls on the mat trying to protect the worked on limb, and finally satisfied the damage has been done (or maybe just bored and looking to inflict a greater amount of pain) Jay Dawg grabs for Va’aiga again and lifts him off the mat, applying a full nelson as he lifts. Jay Dawg cinches the hold in nic and tight before PLANTING Va’aiga down with a massive Dragon suplex. Va’aiga’s head bounces a little off the mat as Jay Dawg drops round and covers with a lateral press. Eddy Long counts… ONE! TWO! THR.. and Va’aiga lifts a shoulder. Jay Dawg grabs Va’aiga by the throat and SLAMS his head against the canvas again. The Hardcore Maniac picks a leg again and goes for a second cover… ONE! TWO! THR.. and Va’aiga kicks out. Mark Stevens: It looks like Jamie Drazon REALLY wants to win this match. Bobby Riley: Well he really SHOULD win this match. Hardcore is really HIS yard, and though there’s no shame in losing a match, this IS a debutant. Mark Stevens: There’s no shame in losing to Va’aiga, he’s one hell of an athlete and a tough, tough competitor. Bobby Riley: Yeah, but still… Va’aiga tries to roll away to the outside to regain a little breath, but Jay Dawg grabs a Maori leg and drags the Maori Badass back into the centre of the ring. Jay Dawg wrenches round Va’aiga’s leg with another quick spinning toe hold, then as Va’aiga is left laying on the mat in agony, goes to retrieve his special surprise weapon from the bottom of the discarded and crushed trash can. Lifting up to the crowd the tight reel of wire earns him a MASSIVE round of oooooohs from those who can see exactly what he’s holding. Bobby Riley: Is that barbed wire, Mark? Mark Stevens: It’s far, FAR worse than Barbed Wire. That SICK Hardcore freak has pulled out a roll of RAZORWIRE! Bobby Riley: My God… you mean the stuff with little razorblades on it rather than just plain old barbs? Mark Stevens: That’s the stuff. Jamie Drazon wraps the razorwire round his right leg and walks into the ring just in time to see the Maori Badass getting to his feet. Va’aiga stumbles and hobbles towards Jay Dawg, as the Dawg fires off a loose crescent kick with his un-razored up leg. Va’aiga ducks out of the way, as JD had intended and the Dawg swings with the movement, crashing a razor laced leg lariat into Va’aiga’s back. Blood drips freely from the Maori Badass as he falls to the canvas and Jay Dawg extricates his leg and lays the reel of wire on the floor. Hearing the crowd noise rise, anticipating the force of his next attack, Jamie lifts Va’aiga off the mat and takes GREAT pleasure in belly-to-belly suplexing the Maori Badass onto the razorwire. Jay Dawg puts on a lesuirely cover and holds his fingers in the air counting along with Eddy Long’s count. ONE! TWO! TH… and NO Va’aiga kicks out. Jay Dawg shakes his head in disbelief and growls with barely disguised hatred, leaving the ring again to fetch this time a TABLE, as Va’aiga lays in the ring picking the wire free from his ruptured skin. Mark Stevens: Jamie “Jay Dawg” Drazon is SUPER PISSED OFF now. He’s got to be looking for a way to finish the Maori Badass off. Bobby Riley: And what better way than with a big old fashioned move through a table. And he’s got so many options for putting the Massive Maori through the cold unforgiving wood. Jay Dawg takes the table into the ring and sets it up slap bang in the middle, unfolding he legs as he looks out into the disapproving crowd, a stone faced grimaced of the “I’m about to cause you PAIN and I don’t’ give a damn if you survive it or not” fashion now marking his facial features. Looking down at the Maori Badass with contempt, Drazon lifts up Va’aiga and positions him for another Dragon Suplex, hooking in the full nelson tight… but Va’aiga counters with a mule kick, causing Jay Dawg to release his grip and grip instead his aching private parts! Va’aiga spins round, using his good leg as a pivot and NAILS Drazon with a lariat laced with little razors! Jay Dawg bundles over the table, clutching his throat and rolls back through to his feet stunned. Mark Stevens: MY GOD! While Jay Dawg was setting up that table, Va’aiga wrapped the razorwire round his arm! And what a brutal strike he launched with it! Bobby Riley: Did you notice how it took a low blow to set that move up though. If this was a match with PROPER rules he’d have been disqualified for using that. Mark Stevens: And wrapping his arm in razorwire, that’d be out of bounds too, right? Bobby Riley: Yeah. That dirty, low down, no good, no mark little sneak thief! Va’aiga unpicks the razorwire from his arm and turns to face Jamie Drazon, a look of fire and thunder in his eyes, the veins in his neck bulging as he stares at the Hardcore Maniac across the ring from him. Throwing the table out the way Va’aiga advances SLOWLY on Jay Dawg, favouring his leg heavily. Jay Dawg stands right up close to Va’aiga and the pair stare deeply into each other’s eyes, each feeling the hatred and vitriol hanging heavy in the atmosphere. Jay Dawg fires round one of his MASSIVE roundhouse kicks at Va’aiga, sending the Maori Badass down to the canvas… Jay Dawg: THIS IS MAH HOUSE! …but Va’aiga rolls through back to his feet again! Jay Dawg charges at the Maori Badass, but Va’aiga do-see-dos a whip off Drazon and flapjacks the Hardcore maniac, getting MASSIVE elevation before the Dawg lands stomach first on the canvas! Va’aiga stands over the fallen Jay Dawg looking down at him. Va’aiga: NOW… THIS IS MY HOUSE! BOO-YAH! And the crowd EXPLODES into a massive “VAH-ING-GUH!” chant as the Maori Badass lets Drazon stand slowly before firing off a stiff left hand, sending Jay Dawg reeling backwards. Another stiff left hand sends another shockwave through Jay Dawg’s bones and another stumbling half step backwards is taken. A third left hand nearly causes Jay Dawg to overbalance, but the Hardcore Maniac has time to compose himself and regain his footing while Va’aiga kisses his fist and sends Jay Dawg FLYING with a MASSIVE right uppercut. Va’aiga chooses not to cover, instead just hobbling towards the fallen Jay Dawg with evil intent in his eyes. Mark Stevens: Va’aiga is looking good again! The Maori Badass is on the comeback trail here tonight! Bobby Riley: He’s… umm… Maoriing up? Mark Stevens: It’s not a matter of hokey routines; it’s a matter of fire, a matter of spirit, a matter of getting that adrenaline rush, getting the blood pumping and flowing through your system… Bobby Riley: Well I can see THAT is happening – it’s coming out through his back. Va’aiga grabs for Jay Dawg and FOLDS Drazon in half with a Lawn Dart level German Suplex. Grabbing the table and setting it up quickly, the massive Maori points to it to draw a massive round of cheers and chants from the crowd, before lifting Jay Dawg up into a standing head scissors, then wrenching him over his shoulders, then finally bringing Jay Dawg down with a CRUNCH, release powerbombing him through the table. Va’aiga reaches down inside his wrestling tights and pulls out… Bobby Riley: What IS that Stevens? I can’t see Mark Stevens: It looks to me like a bottle of lighter fluid! Va’aiga raises the can of fluid up for the crowd to have a look at, before applying it liberally to a section of mat! Va’aiga calls for a cigarette lighter to be thrown into the ring and he SETS THE CANVAS ALIGHT! Flames rise high above the mat as Va’aiga reaches down to find the crumpled form of Jay Dawg, who promptly HITS VA’AIGA WITH ANOTHER LOW BLOW! Jay Dawg walks Va’aiga over to the fire and applies a standing head scissors with a goku-raku choke. Jay Dawg looks down at the fire glowing away behind him and smiles. Mark Stevens: MY GOD! THE MOMENTUM HAS SWUNG BACK IN THE FAVOUR OF JAY DAWG! If he hits JD’s revenge sitting back far enough, he could drive Va’aiga’s face RIGHT INTO THE FIRE! This could be career ending for the Maori Badass! Jay Dawg braces himself, knowing that his knees could go into the fire as well as Va’aiga’s face, but the insane Jamie Drazon gives the look of a man who just doesn’t care and goes to lift Va’aiga up for JD’s Revenge… and Va’aiga BACKDROPS OUT OF IT! Va’aiga gets to his feet and fires off the Maori Handsign… Va’aiga: DROOOOOOOOOOOOOOP! The crowd erupts into a humongous roar as Va’aiga lifts Drazon off the canvas, kicks him in the stomach and wrenches up Jay Dawg across his chest. Va’aiga backs up to the ropes, giving space for a decent run up, but as his leg falters, Jay Dawg counters with an arm drag, freeing himself! Jay Dawg waits for Va’aiga to get to his feet as stumble to a position where he could fall back into the fire still burning and BLASTS Va’aiga with a roundhouse kick dropping the Maori Badass to his knees. Jay Dawg backs up and gets a run up ready, then rushes Va’aiga, going for the Shining Black, but Va’aiga manages to dodge to a side just enough to avoid Jay Dawg’s kick AND CATCH JAY DAWG’S LEG OVER HIS SHOULDER!!! Mark Stevens: THE MAORI BADASS COUNTERS! THE MAORI BADASS COUNTERS! Va’aiga slowly stands, trapping Drazon’s leg over his shoulder, and places his other arm over Drazon’s neck. From this position Va’aiga flips Jay Dawg up, first to a T-Bone position, then to a reverse fireman’s Carry, chest to chest. Va’aiga spins round, pivoting on his good leg and SPINNING MAORI DROPS JAY DAWG INTO THE FLAMING SECTION OF CANVAS! Va’aiga hooks a leg… ONE! TWO! THREE! Va’aiga leaps to his feet and gets promptly squirted with an extinguisher, while the ring crew do their best to soother the slightly singed flesh of Jay Dawg, his back having smothered most of the fire that he landed on, but still a touch crusty none the less. Jay Dawg walks slowly out of the ring area as Va’aiga gets the cuts on his ribs taped over quickly by an EMT team. Mark Stevens: What an incredible victory here tonight for the Maori Badass. It took Sweat Steel and Fire to beat down Jamie Drazon, but somehow Va’aiga showed he had the guts to pull out a victory. Bobby Riley: I have to give credit to Va’aiga. I didn’t think the big lug could do it, but he did. And beating Jay Dawg in his own match takes a lot of effort. Va’aiga signals for a mic to be thrown to him outside the ring as he poses for the crowd while the ring crew replaces the ring canvassing w3ith surprising speed, and clears up the mess, debris and discarded weaponry. Bobby Riley: I’ll give the big lug credit for winning, but he’s got no reason to gloat! Bring on the next match! Va’aiga: SWF… Saddledome… tonight Va’aiga has ARRIVED! Va’aiga has arrived to do TWO things… Turn Up and KICK ASS! And it’s all begun tonight. BOO-YAH! Va’aiga throws out the mic and walks slowly out as we cut to the build up for Longdogger Pete & Frost against Justice and Rule. Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Guest Suicide King Report post Posted June 23, 2003 “Wow what a war to settle the score,” emotes Stevens as the ring crew struggles to remove all the weaponry and mop up the blood left by the brutal no disqualification match between Jay Dawg and the newly bumped Va’aiga. “But fans, that match is just going to be the beginning of the hardcore carnage that we have in store coming up later on tonight as Janus faces off with Nathan Kibagami and Dace Night defends his Hardcore Gamers Title against the returning CIA. But right now, we are going to have a match that has to be looked at a little differently.” “You bet your baseballs Stevens,” replies Bobbie Riley. “What you are about to see here will not be some guys flailing wildly at each other with whatever weapons they can find. No way. These four men are simply going to use their own bodies and nothing more to rip and tear into each other with as much force as they can possibly generate. And for all of that, they get to wear a shiny pair of golden belts known as The SWF World Tag Team Titles.” “But there is more at stake than even that, Bobbie. This match represents the entire resurgence that Longdogger Pete has been working to accomplish with Frost. Pete helped bring back that killer instinct that the big man seemed to be missing for a moment or two. But should Justice and Rule prove victorious here tonight, one just has to wonder just what will happen to Frost’s quest to return to form? Will all the hard training and dedication by for naught or will it spur him forward to even harsher goals? But enough back-story fans it is time to show you the whole thing as it unfolds right there in the center of the ring. So let’s head to our man with the microphone, the indomitable Mr. Funyon!” Stepping into the freshly sanitized ring comes the most quoted ring announcer since Michael Buffer, “Ladies and gentlemen, this next contest is scheduled for ONE FALL and is for the Smarks Wrestling Federation WORLD TAG TEAM Championship! Introducing first… THE CHALLENGERS!” OH, MY GOD! INCREDIBLE SUPERSTAR! Canada EXPLODES at the sounds of Quarashi beginning to play just before a monumental explosion into the sky! BOOM! A huge mushroom cloud of white smoke wafts into the air as Longdogger Pete steps through the curtain and into the path of thousands of screaming fans. Soaking it all up for a moment with an uncharacteristic smile, The Miami Menace steps down the aisle way while simultaneously pulling off his leather jacket to reveal the official 13th Hour pay per view T-shirt. Tossing the jacket aside as he reaches the ring, Pete leaps up to the apron and steps through the ropes as Funyon continues his announcement. “First, from Miami, Florida he weighs in tonight at 277 pounds and stands in at 6 feet, 6 inches tall. He is a former SWF Hardcore Gamers Champion and the master of the Longdogger Clogger. Please welcome ‘The One Man Wrecking Crew’ LONGDOGGER PEEEEEEETE!” Stepping up to the middle rope, Pete encourages the crowd’s favor by lifting an ‘L’ hand sign to the populace. Hopping down to the center of the ring, The Miami Menace tests his body against the ropes as the crowd prepares for the next entrant into this contest. “FROST! FROST! FROST! FROST! FROST! FROST,” chants the crowd in anticipation of the next competitor’s entrance. BANG! BANG! BANG! Silvery pyrotechnics blast off high in the air of the arena as a thick blanket of snow drifts down from the arena’s ceiling. Covering the entire sky with white, the crowd roars at the extra-added effort to the entrance of The Velvet Hammer. But no fireworks, no amount of snow can compare to the ovation that the man himself gets as he comes stampeding out of the entranceway and into the hearts and minds of the assembled fan base. Lifting an arm to the sky only adds to the crowds fire as the mighty man from Iceland makes his way into the ring. Stepping through the ropes, Frost shakes hands with Pete for a second before leaning into a corner to await his announcement. “Weighing in 296 pounds, this man comes to us from Reykjavik, Iceland and is known the world over as ‘The Iceman’ and ‘The Velvet Hammer’. He is a two time SWF Tag Team Champion and a former SWF ICTV Champion. This is the engineer of the Job Train… FROSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSST!” “FROST! FROST! FROST! FROST! FROST! FROST!” Stevens says, “These people are electric for the big men, Longdogger Pete and Frost! But can even these two men with all of there strength, skill and experience prove to be enough to run the worst of the wrestling bandits out of Dodge tonight? Can anyone stop the champions?” “We the jury of Bobbie Riley are going to have to say no. They are too good. They are too dominant! They are …” JUSTICE~! RULE~! POPPOPPOPPOPPOPPOPPOPPOPPOPPOPPOP! The familiar red pyrotechnic burst high in the air as two men that have earned the enmity of the wrestling world walk forth from behind the curtain. Looking at each other for just a moment, the smiling jackals lift their well received tag team gold high in the air for the entire audience to see and appreciate in their own way. Dropping the belts down on their shoulders in perfect synchronicity, Judge William Hearford and Ejiro Fasaki model their red football jerseys all the way down to ringside as they slowly make their way into the ring to face off with their latest challengers. Hopping into the ring, Ejiro makes a point to wave his title belt in front of the challengers as a little child might taunt a dog with a bone. But the stoic Judge merely steps back into his corner with a slight smile on his lips as Funyon finally concludes his announcing duties. “And their opponents weigh in tonight at a total combined weight of 430 pounds and are card carrying members of The Magnificent Seven: World Championship Edition. Together they are The Smarks Wrestling Federation WORLD tag team champions and are UNDEFEATED in tag team action as a unit. Tonight’s match will tell whether or not they become the longest reigning tag team champions in history. They are Judge William Hearford and Ejiro Fasaki… they are JUSTICE AND RULLLLLLLLLLLLLLE!” The crowd blasts away with as much bile and anger as they can possibly muster as The Judge and Fasaki get on their game faces for what will surely be a devastating encounter. Stevens breaks it down, “Giving up almost 200 pounds of muscle and anger is never something to be done lightly fans, but that is just what Justice and Rule are doing here tonight. The members of The Magnificent Seven will have to do something to counteract that if they want to get out of the pay per view with their titles intact. Bobbie, what do you expect Hearford and Fasaki to do in this contest?” “Justice and Rule will do just what they always do in these situations, and that is grab a body part and make the other team miserable with it. Pete’s knees and Frost’s right arm have taken quite the beating recently, so you know Hereford and Fasaki are going to be looking for those advantages as early and often as possible.” With both teams looking dead at each other with intense glares, referee Eddy Long orders one man from each team to head to the apron so that they can get this match underway. Sensing that his power would be put to good use early, The Judge sends Fasaki to the outside just as the veteran Longdogger Pete makes the same decision for his team. “Looks like the old men of the teams are going to see what they can do against each other before bringing in the youngsters,” notes Stevens. “Good move by both crews,” says Riley, “getting an early advantage can be paramount to success here in the SWF. Best to get the guys who have more experience in there to set the match up for their teammates.” Locking up in the center of the ring, LDP and Hearford struggle against each other in a collar-and-elbow tie up as the crowd stomps away in anticipation for the action that is headed their way. Struggling against each other mightily, Pete eventually manages to force Hearford back step after step using his superior power and weight advantage. But as they near a neutral corner, The Judge pivots quickly and manages to push The Longdogger’s back against the turnbuckle. “Break clean, break clean!” shouts the referee as he struggles to get The Judge and Pete to wrestle a clean match. It is LDP who first releases his grip on Hearford and places his hands high to signal the break while still covering up enough to block any attempts at an attack at his upper body. But not his lower… STOMP! Going right to the knee off the break, The Judge slams the bottom of his foot right into The Longdogger’s kneecap with as much force as he can muster. Staggered by the blow, Pete sucks up all the pain as The Judge once again makes his mark against Pete’s injured knees with a sharp stomp. Grabbing the stunned Pete by the hair, Hearford positions the Miami Menace into a standing position and leans in with a cutting chop across the pectoral muscles. SMACK! WHAM! WHAM! WHAM! “Pete strikes back!” Immediately after the chop rakes across his chest, Pete returns the favor with three huge overhand rights across the bow that sends The Judge reeling into the center of the ring. Not willing to stop with just that modest success, The One Man Wrecking Crew surges forward and knocks Hearford right into the canvas with a hard hammering clothesline across the chest. Immediately racing to his partner’s aide, Ejiro Fasaki sprints into the ring right at his opponent only to have LDP almost casually knock him aside with a back elbow that knocks him to the canvas as well. Rolling out of the ring to avoid any further punishment, Ejiro leaves his partner to the wolves for the time being as Pete drives a high knee into William’s chest. Another hard knee finds the mark as it propels Hearford into the air with the blunt impact from the blow before the Judge doubles over trying to catch his breath. Hitting the ropes with as much speed as he can muster, Pete lifts a boot that collides with the side of Hearford’s cranium and sends him rolling away to the ropes. Snagging the Judge by the head, Pete slaps on a front facelock and drags Hearford over to the unfriendly corner so Pete can make the tag. “FROST! FROST! FROST! FROST! FROST! FROST!” The big man is in the match and he instantly makes his presence known as he pulls Hearford free of Pete’s clutches and hammers him down on the canvas with on big, hard body slam. Scooping the Judge up just as he rises, Frost plants him in the canvas once more with a casual violence that enthralls the entire audience. Pulling the Judge up once again, Frost heaves him into a neutral corner and begins to lay down the hands of stone. WHAM! WHAM! WHAM! WHAM! WHAM! Striking against the Judge’s head and ribs time and again with almost surgical precision Frost carves himself a piece of The Magnificent Seven. Finally satisfied with his work, Frost pulls the tag team champion out of the corner by a few paces and jacks him up to his shoulder once again but not for a body slam! Tucking Hearford’s head underneath his arm, Frost roars out to the crowd as he sets for the snowplow Northern lights brainbuster! But the extra tuck of his head immediately sends Hearford into a virtual panic as he flails wildly to escape from Frost’s grip and land behind the Velvet Hammer. Quickly snatching Frost from behind, Hearford places his leg in between Frost’s and rips his former stable mate to the hard canvas with a Russian legsweep. “Nice defensive counter there by one half of the tag champions,” notes Stevens, “but now Judge Hearford needs to get out of the ring. He’s taken a lot of punishment early and should make a tag.” Indeed he should, but Hearford is simply too stubborn a man to let an opportunity get away from him. So although he does indeed make a tag, Judge makes sure to drag Frost over to the corner with a wristlock before doing so. Slamming down on Frost’s right shoulder with a hammering blow, Hearford hopes to make the most of the situation by allowing Fasaki to go all the way up to the top rope. But Frost’s arm is simply too strong right now for such a tactic to work and he simply uses it to heave Hearford right over the top rope to the floor! Quickly capitalizing on Fasaki’s momentary awe over the power display, Frost quickly closes the distance between himself and Rule and tosses Fasaki right off the top rope into the center of the ring. “Major miscommunication there by the champions!” remarks Stevens, “Frost was simply not going to stand there and let them go to work on him.” “Yeah even Frost isn’t that stupid. Although I did here his girlfriend was.” “Oh please, Riley” “All I’m saying is that they were out square dancing and when they called for a hoe down, Frost’s girl dived on the floor.” “Thanks Riley, I think we are all a little more stupid for having heard that.” Fasaki stammers up to his feet, grabbing a hold of his already bruised back only to get knocked strait back into the mat with a charging shoulder tackle from the mammoth known as Frost. Almost seamlessly moving to his corner after the tackle, Frost raises a hand and makes a tag to the Longdogger for the exchange. Together, the team some people might refer to as Chilly Dog heaves Fasaki into the ropes only to raise him high on the rebound and cram him into the mat with a double spinebuster slam! BOOM! Pete floats across Fasaki and grinds a forearm into his face as Long drops down to make the count... ONE! TWO! THNOOOOOOOOOOOO! “Double flapjack nearly gets the fall!” calls out Riley from his seat on the floor. “Uh, that was a spinebuster there Bobbie.” “Not according to some of the other announcers in the business!” “Oh shut up. Did you notice I’m not shilling BBQ sauce as well? Kicking wildly with his legs, Fasaki manages to free his shoulders out from underneath the weight of his challenger for at least the moment. But LDP has no interest in allowing Ejiro an attempt to feel better about himself and pushes the tag team champion into a neutral corner where Fasaki will have no defense from the coming onslaught. WHAM! WHAM! WHAM! WHAM! With measured precision, Pete tosses overhand rights into Ejiro’s exposed face as the member of The Magnificent Seven bounces back and forth from all the power of the punches. And with Ejiro so stunned by the blows, it is a simple task for Pete to lock Fasaki up with a knuckle lock and pull Ejiro much closer to the center of the ring. Using the lock to stand Ejiro up almost onto his tiptoes, The Longdogger opens up with a number of harsh kicks that slam into Fasaki’s ribcage with a shuttering impact. Satisfied with his project, Pete quickly uses his grip on Ejiro’s hand to drive the arm in between Fasaki’s legs and set him up for a pump handle slam. But as Pete jerks Fasaki into the air, Ejiro manages to use the whipping effect to squirt free of The Longdogger’s grip and fall down behind the Miami Menace. Leaping into the air as quickly as his legs will allow, Ejiro knocks LDP to the canvas with a spinning heel kick that collides with the chest of his opponent. “Big move there by Fasaki, but he and Judge need to get some sort of control of this match. Just countering occasionally is not going to keep LDP and Frost from dishing out the tremendous punishment the need to win this thing. Justice and Rule need to slow this match down if they want to win here.” Rolling over to his corner, the battered Fasaki once again brings The Judge back into the battle with a tag. Getting out of the ring as he does so, Fasaki elects not to bother with a double team and just allows Hearford to go to town on the downed challenger. Pounding down on Pete with a series of stomps and kicks, Hearford tries desperately to keep his foe off his vertical base. But Pete just continues to battle his way up to his feet using the ropes as The Judge hammers away with a series of forearms. Still regaining enough control to manage Pete for a few more seconds, Hearford sends The Longdogger flying into the ropes and dips his head for a backdrop toss but the wily veteran puts on the breaks on the rebound and kicks Justice right in the jaw! Standing strait up from the blow for just a second, The Judge finds the Longdogger’s foot in his face yet again as the Miami Menace boots him across the mouth and drives him down to the canvas. Pulling the Judge up by the hair, Pete shrugs the litigious grappler into the ropes and leans forward with what would be a devastating lariat. But instead, ‘Judge Mental’ has enough presence of mind to duck underneath the intended blow and float over for… “SURPRISE WITNESS! SURPRISE WITNESSSSS!” shouts out Stevens as the Judge spikes Pete’s head into the mat with the ¾ nelson neckbreaker! “Oh it’s he! It’s he! It’s L ... D... P! And he just got stuck right into the center of the mat! Oh I love this!” Hearford rolls over his deflated opponent almost immediately as the crowd looks on in almost a hush at the site. Hooking both of Pete’s legs up as tightly as he can, The Judge holds on for the possible victory... ONE! TWO! THRNNOOOOOO FROST MAKES THE SAVE! Unwilling to allow his title bid to end that quickly, The Velvet Hammer grabs Hearford by the ankle and pulls him right off the laid out Longdogger. Swearing at Frost over his shoulder, The Judge still manages to stay focused at the task at hand by pressing Pete into a neutral turnbuckle so he can go to work. SMACK! “WHOOOO!” SMACK! “WHOOOO!” Having stunned Pete with the two huge chops in the corner, Hearford tosses LDP across the ring with an Irish whip and follows up immediately with a huge clothesline into the turnbuckle that rocks Pete’s sternum into submission. Falling down to a knee before flopping to his face, Pete stays on the mat for an uncomfortable moment or two before Hearford collects him off the mat once more and drags his carcass over to the world tag team champions’ corner to make the exchange. Hopping into the ring immediately as The Judge whips Pete into the ropes, Fasaki prepares his maneuver as Hearford sets it up by booting the rebounding LDP in the stomach. Popping off the near ropes for a little momentum, Fasaki comes leaning in and takes The One Man Wrecking Crew down to the mat with a devastating spinning neckbreaker! Hooking in a leg, Fasaki holds on tightly as Long counts away once again... ONE! TWO! THRNOOOOOKICKOUT! Using his legs with as much force as he can, Pete jams his way out of the cover, much to the dismay of The Magnificent Seven and especially Ejiro Fasaki. So angered by the kick out is Rule that he immediately goes right back on the attack by slamming a fist across The Longdogger’s throat and choking away like George W. Bush at a pretzel factory. Immediately taking offense at the blatant cheating, Eddy Long counts away towards a disqualification as Ejiro furiously continues to tear at Pete’s windpipe. Finally releasing at a count of four, Fasaki pulls his opponent up to his feet before suddenly backing up and cracking Frost across the mouth with an elbow! More stunned than hurt, The Velvet Hammer immediately crawls between the ropes and draws the referee’s attention allowing Fasaki to blatantly kick Pete right in the jimmies! DING! “Ouch,” whispers Stevens as Pete falls strait back like a falling tree from the effect of wrapping his testes around the toe of Ejiro’s boot. Even more furious from this site, Frost brushes past the official and swings over the head of the frightened Fasaki as he ducks out of range by falling back onto his ass. Desperate to maintain control of the affair, Eddy Long plants himself in between the grapplers to try and make sure that Frost leaves the ring, all the while missing the entire point of the exercise. “Wait a damn minute,” remarks Stevens, “Through all the chaos, Judge Hearford is loosening the top turnbuckle pad! We’ve seen Justice and Rule do this before!” “Looks like they are replaying their greatest hits,” answers Bobby Riley. “With LDP playing kettle drum with his head!” As per normal, The Judge only loosens the turnbuckle pad just enough so that Justice and Rule can use it when they want to and cover up the evidence with only a modicum of work. But right now, Hearford has other things on his mind as Fasaki drags Pete over to the ropes and places his head against the middle cable for one of his better-known series of moves. Hitting the ropes at full speeds, the 188-pounds of Ejiro Fasaki crashes down across Pete’s back and throttles him across the middle rope. But instead of progressing as normal, Fasaki instead allows Judge Hearford to provide the next blow. Hearford rips into Pete’s forehead with a devastating punting kick that sends The Longdogger bouncing back towards the center of the ring where Ejiro has already pulled his right kneepad down to expose the bone. Hitting the ropes for just a little added momentum, Fasaki skies for just a second before all of his weight jams down into Pete’s face with a hard knee drop. Leaning over his fallen prey, Ejiro hooks the far leg as Long makes another count towards the end of this contest. ONE! TWO! THRENOOOOOOOKICKOUT! Shrugging as if to say, “How can I be upset, that never gets the win anyway” Fasaki pulls LDP once more into the lion’s den so Ejiro can make another exchange and bring the more powerful Judge back inside the squared circle. Together Justice and Rule send Pete into the ropes and lift him high up into the air together before falling backward into the canvas with a double flapjack drop. The Judge hooks the leg once more as Fasaki casually rolls his way back out to the apron. ONE! TWO! THNOOOOOOOOOOOO! “Double flapjack nearly gets the fall!” calls out Riley from his seat on the floor. “Well, that time you were actually right.” “According to Jim Ross!” “Will you shut up?!” Clapping his hands together to show the referee what sort of cadence he wants on the counts from now on, The Judge quickly manages to go back to work on The One Man Wrecking Crew. Pulling him up to a standing position, Hearford prepares for what looks to be a vertical suplex. But still, it is about 275 pounds that he has to get all the way up their and it takes a whole lot of effort to get Pete that high up in the air. But succeed Hearford does and soon LDP finds himself hanging high in the air as Hearford holds him up as long as he can to allow all the blood to flow to Pete’s brain. Thankfully for Pete though it seems to wake the big man up and The One Man Wrecking Crew uses his body weight to sway just enough to fall right out of Hearford’s grip and slide down his back. And when the gavel grappler turns to see where The Longdogger had gone he finds a very nasty surprise as he gets DRILLED into the mat with... “LONNNNNNNNNNNGDOGGER CLOGGERRRRRRRR~!” roars Stevens as Pete blisters Hearford’s head into the mat with terrifying velocity. “NO! NO! Someone get a plunger, damnit!” screeches Riley as both men fall side by side after the dreadful impact of the double arm DDT. “LDP! LDP! LDP!” shouts the Canadian crowd, as the Miami Menace is the first to make a move and push The Judge over and onto his back for a cover across the shoulders. The crowd roars along with Long as the count climbs to... ONE! TWO! THRNOOOOOOOOOEJIROMAKESTHESAVE! Diving across the ring with a forearm, Fasaki manages to knock Pete off his partner. Immediately retreating back to his corner the member of the Magnificent Seven looks on with horror as the still battered Pete inches toward the inevitable tag. While on the other side of the ring, Frost looks on with fire in his eyes ready to murder whoever the legal man might be that gets in his way as The Judge also rolls closer and closer to his corner. TAG! And Ejiro races into the middle of the ring to stop the tag... A moment too late... TAG! “FROST! FROST! FROST! FROST! FROST! FROST!” WHAM! Down goes Fasaki! Up comes Fasaki! WHAM! Down goes Fasaki! Up comes Fasaki! WHAM! Down goes Fasaki! Up comes Fasaki swinging wildly about his body as though he suddenly sees four or five Frosts standing there. But he does not stay up for long as he crumbles right back down to the canvas to give the entire crowd yet another reason to cheer for the Iceman! Lining Ejiro up in his crosshairs, Frost mounts yet another furious offensive thrust only to find that Ejiro has ducked under and away from the blow. Flying over the top rope to the floor, Frost finds his feet easily after the tumble and quickly looks about the ring for where Ejiro might have gotten to with his bad self. But Frost does not see Ejiro until the smaller grappler uses the ropes to propel himself to the outside with a slingshot plancha! WHUMP! “My god! Frost caught him out of the air like a God damned pop fly ball.” WHAM! “BARREL ROLL ON THE GOD DAMN RAMP!” “HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT!” Flinging Ejiro overhead with the fall away slam, Frost heaves the world’s tallest midget over five feet over his head and allows him to crash right onto the hard surface. With not even a moment’s hesitation, Frost continues his assault by collecting Fasaki and placing him up on his shoulder before walking back to the ringside area. But the ride abruptly ends as Frost almost casually drops Fasaki’s face on the side of the apron with a snake eyes drop! Flopping off the apron like someone on a whip it, Fasaki stammers around in a daze for a moment too long before he suddenly feels the slight chill of HELL FREEZING OVER! WHAMMMMMM! Knocking the shit out of Fasaki like he was a member of the goose family, Frost looks out to the crowd an gives a big polar bear roar much to delight of the millions of fans watching at home. Picking Ejiro up, Frost heaves the tag team champion back inside the confines of the squared circle, where he can actually take the gold away. Back inside the ring himself, Frost makes a motion to the crowd that this match is only moments from being over. Pulling Ejiro into his grasp once more Frost easily and quickly snags the champion in the dreaded COBRA CLUTCH! The crowd absolutely comes unglued with the chants of, “TAP! TAP! TAP! TAP! TAP!” Swinging Fasaki all the way off his feet with the clutch, Frost tears away as Fasaki struggles to stay conscious as he immediately does not even have the strength to tap out from the hold. Instead his entire life passes before his eyes as consciousness drifts further and further away in the icy grip of winter. There is only one person that can save him now and that is the man that Longdogger Pete is punching to the canvas with a hard overhand right! WHAM! But still, Eddy Long is distracted from his duties with Fasaki and Frost and has to force Pete back to the apron, leaving The Judge with only a moment to do the devil’s work. Gritting his teeth in what might pass for regret in another man, The Judge charges forward with all of his strength and spears ... Ejiro? WHAM! All three men fall into the turnbuckle... CRASH! “The Judge speared his own man to drive Frost right into that exposed turnbuckle! MY GOD! I don’t think I have ever seen anything like that in my entire god forsaken existence!” “HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT!” All three men collapse into the corner in a pile up for just a moment before Hearford crawls out of the wreckage and steps to the apron. But as soon as he’s there, The Judge reaches over the top and pats the unconscious Fasaki on the shoulder to legally tag back into the action. Grabbing Frost by the ankle, Hearford clears some distance between the Iceman and ropes before leaning over to make a cover for... ONE! TWO! THNOOOOOOOOOOOOOFROSTKICKSOUT! “MOTHER FUCKER!” screams Hearford in an out of character manner for him as he pounds against the mat in unbelievable frustration as Frost sits up after the kick out. Quickly and aggressively, The Judge snags Frost around the head and begins to put on the pressure with his favorite submission move... “HELD WITHOUT BAIL!” Torquing the neck like it were a stubborn bottle of pickles, the Judge twists and twists the step-over inverted facelock on the grounded causing him to give out a mighty roar of pain. Eddy Long moves to the side and begins asking Frost if he wants to give up. Frost continues to yell “No!”, but it’s obvious that he won’t be saying that if he stays in for much longer. “That’s his trademark Stretch Plum he has on there,” calls Mark from the edge of his seat, “And it’s one of the hardest moves to escape from in all of wrestling! You can ask anyone who has faced Toshiaki Kawada about that.” “There’s no way he can escape that thing! Frost fought the law and now the law is gonna win tonight!” Finally, from the apron, LDP steps through the ropes and begins moving towards the two men to break the hold… but Eddy Long is in just the right position to see him! The crowd boos voraciously as the zebra gets to his feet and steps in, stopping him from breaking the hold. The Longdogger resentfully steps back and through the ropes as his partner struggles and tries to figure away out of this. He grunts and yells, trying to think of something quick through the pain… and suddenly he reaches his free arm up, grabbing Hearford’s head. The Judge tries to shake his grip, but Frost won’t let go. He starts to get off-balance, and as he tries to keep upright he loosens the hold on Frost’s arm. The giant pulls it free and soon he’s pulling Hearford down even more, trying to ignore the pain from the facelock. Hearford battles to keep the hold on despite Frost pulling down on him… … but he gets pulled down in a snapmare, the crowd going wild as the hold is broken! “I can’t believe it! I can’t believe it!” says Grand Slam as Frost falls to his back on the mat while Hearford sits there after the snapmare, shocked. Sitting there in a state of disbelief, Hearford just can’t believe that Frost actually managed to power his way through his best hold. His BEST hold. He just shakes his head, still amazed, and unaware of Frost pushing himself onto his belly and trying to lift himself off the ground. “JUDGE! JUUUUUDGE! WAKE UP!” yells Ejiro from the side and in an instant Hearford comes back to reality. He turns around to see the monster slowly trying to gain a footing and moving towards his partner, but the Judge hastily gets up and puts an axe handle into the back of Frost, laying out the exhausted man only a few feet away from the waiting LDP. The crowd boos as Hearford gets back up to his feet and grabs one of Frost’s ankles as he pulls him back closer to his own corner. Instead of tagging in his still tired partner, Hearford opts to let go of the ankle and step over, putting on a sleeper hold on the downed Frost. ”A sleeper hold, a nice choice by Hearford against an already tired Frost,” notes Grand Slam as Frost struggles against Justice’s choking grip for oxygen. ”A nice choice? More like the perfect choice,” replies Riley, “He’s got a hold that’s hard to get out of, is going to tire Frost out like no other, and the longer it’s on, the longer Ejiro has to recover.” Indeed, Frost struggles to get towards the nearby ropes, reaching out with his arm trying as hard as he can to get a rope break… but he’s just out of reach! With the crowd rallying behind him, the Velvet Hammer is only a few inches off, and the effects of the sleeper begin to become more and more apparent. Slowly his movements become slower… and slower… until finally his hand just falls to the mat. On the apron, his partner LDP begins yelling at Frost to snap out of it, but it doesn’t seem to do anything as Eddy Long raises Frost’s hand… And it falls. “This could be the end…” He raises it a second time… And it falls. “This IS the end, Mark.” He raises the hand a third time… AND IT STAYS UP! A roar of approval comes from the crowd as the trapped man begins to come back to life, coming up with new strength towards the ropes. The Judge tries desperately to stop the hoss from moving any closer… but Frost refuses to give in! He reaches out, his finger tips just brushing against the ropes… and he gets a hand around the ropes! A resounding cheer comes from the people in audience as the Velvet Hammer holds on while Long starts a quick 5 count, forcing Hearford to release the sleeper. Frost tasks massive gasps as he tries to recover the air he lost while Justice tags in Rule, who has recovered enough to get back in the thick of things. “And Fasaki is back in,” calls Mark as Ejiro jumps onto the ropes and bounces off, hitting a springboard kneedrop on the back of Frost, “And he’s already hit Frost with a great move! I have to admit, Fasaki can shrug off an ungodly beating.” “Which makes him a great tag partner. All you need to do is give him a short break, and even after the worst thrashing he’ll still be good to go.” Frost gives a yell of agony as the knee drop connects, and Fasaki doesn’t waste any time in making the cover. ONE! TWO! THREEEEEEEEENO! LDP makes the save! The crowd gives a sigh of relief as Eddy Long immediately begins pushing LDP back away from the two legal men. Of course, Ejiro sees this as a perfect chance for an illegal choke, and he soon has both hands cupped around Frost’s throat! He begins slamming the man’s head against the ground before the weakened Velvet Hammer can pull his attackers away. Of course, Long turns around a second to late to see the choke, and the crowd boos like mad for the ref’s general ineptitude. Giving up on the choke, gets back up to his feet and steps a few feet back, allowing Frost to slowly get up to his knees. He gives a bounce off the ropes, and as soon as Frost turns around he catches a knee right to the nose! Frost falls back to the mat holding his face as Fasaki takes a few moments to celebrate himself, soaking the many boos emanating from the crowd before tagging out to Hearford. Hearford enters the ring and the two move towards Frost, pulling him into a double facelock before slamming his head down to the mat with a double DDT! “Yes!” squeals Riley with satisfaction, “Justice and Rule are getting those quick tags off, and the more they double team Frosty, the more he’s going to get dismantled.” Eddy pushes Ejiro to the apron, but Fasaki only grins and laughs it off as Hearford waits for Long to turn around before making a cover. ONE! TWO! THREEEENO! Frost kicks out! Another hopeful cheer rises from the fans as the Iceman from Iceland refuses to stay down for a three count. Hearford gives a shrug, calmer than before as they now have full control of the match. Pulling Frost up to his feet, he fires off a STIFF~! knife-edged chop, which hits with a sickening crack. CHOP! “WHOO!” CHOP! “WHOO!” CHOP! ”WHOO!” CHOP! “WHOO!” And with that last shot Frost hits the ropes, and he rebounds forwards off them. Hearford turns his back towards the big man, and as he stumbles back forwards the Judge locks in a ¾ Headlock on him! The crowd boos as Hearford does a small countdown with Frost stuck in the headlock… but the Velvet Hammer brings up his other arm and wraps it around Justice’s face in an inverted facelock! The Judge lets go of the headlock as he’s pulled backwards, and the former ICTV Champion spins around, hitting the Tag Champ with an inverted spinning Neckbreaker! “Rock and Roll the Dice! Hearford got a little too comfortable there; he really should have just hit the move.” “Damn it, make the tag, Judge, make the tag! MAKE THE TAG!” Justice lies on the ground, clutching his neck with both hands as Frost falls back to the mat, drained after that last maneuver, but still able to start crawling towards his partner. “FROST! FROST! FROST! FROST!” The crowd begins chanting his name as he makes it to the half way part of the ring, and slowly Hearford comes to his senses, quickly crawling towards Ejiro to make the tag! ”Fasaki is tagged in! Fasaki is tagged in!” Ejiro leaps over the again, and Frost reaches out for LDP… CRACK! … but is denied as Fasaki drops an elbow down right on his back! The arena deflates as Frost’s hand falls to the mat and Ejiro begins to pull him back towards the other side of the ring. “A near tag there, and they really have to watch out for those. Frost is a lot bigger than both of them and they are going to have much more trouble stopping him from moving.” Ejiro twists the arm of the Velvet Hammer, pulling him up already stuck in a wristlock. The giant doesn’t have much of a choice but to follow along as he’s dragged further away from his partner. As soon as Rule gets Frost to the heel corner he leaps up, scissoring his legs around the big man’s shoulder and bringing him down with a thunderous thud! The crowd boos as Fasaki rolls him over for a quick pin. ONE! TWO! THREEEEEEEEEEEEENO! Frost barely gets a shoulder up! “It’s getting closer and closer now,” notes Mark with a little worry, “Frost has to get out of that double team, otherwise J&R are going to finish him off.” Picking him off the ground, Ejiro manages to heave him sloppily into the corner, where he quickly begins lining him up with elbow shots to Frost’s body and head. The flurry of hard strikes gets jeers and heat from the crowd as Ejiro unmercifully beats on one of the biggest faces in the company, but that doesn’t deter him as he finishes up with a massive reverse spinning elbow to Frost’s jaw! The giant man slumps and falls down to his rear as Ejiro gets a call from Justice, saying a few words to him. Ejiro smiles big and nods, and he tags Hearford in before putting a boot right to Frost’s throat! He holds it there against Eddy Long’s objections as Hearford comes through the ropes and quickly moves over to the other side of the ring to line up a corner dropkick… or not, as rushes towards Pete and shoulderblocks the unsuspecting man off the apron! Pete hits the floor on his back, and with that Ejiro stops the boot-choke as the Judge walks back to the corner. “I can’t believe it! They just distracted Eddy Long so they could eliminate Longdogger Pete!” “I know! Aren’t they great?” “Great cheaters? Yes.” Turning Frost around in the corner, Hearford slowly lifts the limp Velvet Hammer up onto the turnbuckle with a waistlock. He gets him up to the top rope as Ejiro makes a blind tag in, climbing up the turnbuckle on the outside and inching himself out on the top rope as the crowd begins to throw out ever jeer they know. “It’s over! It’s OVER!” repeats Bobbie Riley with sadistic glee, “Everyone knows what’s coming up now!” Ejiro tightropes out onto the ring ropes, placing his elbow square in Frost’s chest as Hearford wraps his legs around the ring ropes. As they get ready, Eddy Long continues to count out Ejiro, and on the outside LDP shakes his head and lifts himself off the ground after the cheap surprise attack. He looks back into the ring just to see Hearford begin to lift Frost off the top rope, with Ejiro taking flight as well… THUD~! Frost hits the mat hard, and Ejiro is right with him, nailing a spiked elbow! He bounces once off Frost’s chest before settling as LDP quickly slides into the ring, his bad legs carrying him as fast as he can to break up the pin! ONE! “RULE OF LAW, BABEE!” says Riley with satisifaction. TWO! “BUT HERE’S PETE! CAN HE MAKE IT??” asks Grand Slam as Pete comes in… THREEEEEENOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! THE CROWD GOES BALISTIC AS PETE LANDS A DIVING TACKLE ON EJIRO, BREAKING UP THE COUNT! “HE DID IT! PETE BROKE UP THE COUNT!” “HE CAN’T DO THAT! THAT’S… THAT’S… NOT RIGHT!” Pete gets back up to his feet, and before Hearford can get off the turnbuckle he gives the Tag Champ a SHARP~! kick right to the stomach! The old man curls up and falls to the mat as his feet come off the ropes, and he rolls around gasping for air as Ejiro tries to get up and stop LDP… but gets a massive clothesline in return! He gets back up, and is promptly flattened again! He gets ready for more… but of course, Eddy Long has to maintain order, and he pushes LDP back out to the apron, much to the crowd’s chargrin. But that doesn’t last as LDP begins riling up the crowd from the apron, trying to get them to get behind Frost. “Thank God they got him back to the apron. Did you see that underhanded attack on Justice and Rule? And during their premier finisher no less!” “Well, he was obviously trying to take out Justice and Rule long enough for Frost to recover, but I don’t know if even that was enough.” Frost doesn’t stir as Ejiro lies on the mat holding his head and the Judge rolls to the outside holding his sternum. “Frost! Frost! Frost! Frost!” On the outside, LDP continues to get the crowd chanting, louder and louder now… “FROST! FROST! FROST! FROST!” On the canvas, Frost begins moving again, and he slowly lifts his head off the mat. Going against all the pain in his body, he begins crawling slowly towards his partner! The crowd goes berserk and now the whole arena is behind him! ”FROST! FROST! FROST! FROST!” Ejiro raises himself off the mat, shaking his head after taking two massive lariats… and looks over to see Frost nearly half way across the ring and getting closer and closer to the side… ”FROST! FROST! FROST! FROST!” Almost there, the Velvet Hammer reaches out… trying to make it…. Ejiro dashes to his feet and makes a break for Frost… *SLAP* “LDP! LDP! LDP! LDP!” A massive cheer as the chant and the legal man changes, and before Ejiro can stop his momentum… WHAM! He’s knocked down to the mat with a massive big boot! Ejiro holds his head after his body slams into the canvas, and LDP quickly drags him up with the fervor of a man possessed. Before Fasaki can even think to defend himself he finds himself being hit with a barrage of hard right hands! The smaller man can barely stand as Pete begins dishing out payback for wounded partner. As the Judge gets back up to the apron, LDP grabs Rule by the wrist, slingshoting him at the ropes! Hearford quickly grabs the tag ropes and tags Ejiro on the back as he bounces of the ropes, and Eddy Long signals that it’s a legal tag! “Blind tag! Hearford made a blind tag in!” Justice quickly enters the ring as Rule gets squashed down by a massive clothesline, and as Hearford closes in… WHAM! “Spear! He just knocked the Judge right out of his Judicial robes!” “And you call ME the pervert…” The Judge is left on the ground nearly dead, and LDP goes for the cover with the crowd counting along! ONE! TWO! THREENO! Ejiro breaks it up! The crowd gives disappointed sigh as Fasaki lands an elbow right on LDP’s back just in time to stop the count. The Longdogger, slightly peeved, gets back up, facing off against the smaller Ejiro, and begins to slam him with a few more right hands, but Eddy Long chooses to interdict, pushing Ejiro towards the outside. LDP says a few words to Fasaki as Long takes him away, and Pete turns his attention back to the Judge… a second too late, as the Judge lowblows him right as he turns! Pete holds his crushed gonads as he falls to his knees, and Hearford shakes his head to clear out the cob webs before getting back up. The crowd boos voraciously as he takes the stunned Pete back up to his feet, folding one of his bad legs up before lifting him up and slamming it down on his knee, causing a yell of pain to come from the Doggah. “And once again Justice and Rule use cheating to take control of the match, and now it looks like the Judge is targeting the bad legs of the Doggah.” “Cheating? Like LDP didn’t BLANTANTLY cheat when he broke up the Rule of Law and started attacking a helpless Ejiro and Hearford.” “Just like Justice and Rule cheating before that?” “… Look, it doesn’t do us any good to point fingers at people about who cheated when…” Grand Slam sighs as Fasaki climbs back to the outside, holding his head after taking a good pummeling, and Hearford viciously attacks the legs of Pete with stomps. Grabbing him by the leg, he flips him over, putting him in a single leg crab! “Those are Hearford’s specialty hold,” says Mark, looking through his notes, “He knows just how to twist and torque them to get a man to tap out. Pete’s in big trouble now…” Pulling back as hard as he can, the Judge pulls back on already weak leg of Longdogger Pete, causing him to yell in pain as his permanent injury is torqued. He yells even more, but he doesn’t submit even as Eddy Long continually asks him. Instead, he begins slowly crawling towards the ropes, almost getting within reach… but the Judge begins pulling him back towards the center of the ring. “L! D! P! …L! D! P! …L! D! P!” “The crowd is really getting behind LDP right now, and I think that’s the last thing he has right now as Frost is barely up on the ropes right now.” “Damn it, just give up so we can get on to the next match, alright? Christ, we have enough of them…” “Bobbie, would you give up a chance at a title shot this late in your career?” “Ha! LDP doesn’t HAVE a career! Figures you’d try to get me on a trick question.” But the Doggah is undeterred, and soon enough he’s crawling back towards the ropes, inch by torturous inch, trying to make it to salvation. This time, not even Hearford can stop him, no matter how much he tries to hold his ground, and in a long stretch… he reaches the ropes! The Judge gives an unsatisfied grunt as Eddy Long calls for the break, and he does. But after the break he wastes no time in pull him back towards his corner, tagging out to the recovered Ejiro, who is just waiting for a chance to get in. With that tag Ejiro comes through the ropes and immediately grabs LDP’s legs, folding one into the crook of the knee as he squeezes his own leg in between and leans backwards to get a chinlock on the downed LDP to complete the Muta Sickle! “Contrapuntal! Ejiro is one of the submissions from his old stablemate, Fugue!” says Grand Slam as the crowd boos and Pete grits his teeth in intense pain, “They are really busting out everything they know in this match!” Pete struggles and strains, trying to get out of the incredibly painful submission as the “PETE! PETE! PETE!” chants start up. He can’t bust out by force… but Pete realizes another way out. He begins shaking his body from side to side, and the fans go wild as they realize what he’s trying to do. Ejiro tries to stop him, but his body is stretched out in such a fashion that he can’t control Pete’s movement from side to side, and he finally gets enough power to send them onto their sides! “Incredible! He broke another hold! LDP and Frost just refuse to give up against Justice and Rule!” “Damn it, Pete, you never-was! Give up already!” Pete struggles to get moving to somewhere other than the heel corner, but Ejiro begins to pull him back towards it… and Pete manages to flip around and kick him in the face! Fasaki stumbles backwards, allowing Hearford to tag in as LDP scrambles to get away from the tag champs. But as he moves for the other side of the ring Hearford catches him by the leg! He tries to flip over and kick him just like he did to Rule, but he only catches the leg, and as he does he puts his foot between the Doggah’s legs with a big grin! LDP knows what’s coming and tries to resist, but it’s too late as he’s flipped over into a Sharpshooter! “YES! YES!” says Riley, just ecstatic, “There’s no WAY he’s getting out of a frickin’ SHARPSHOOTER. That’s the biggest and best leg submission there is!” Pete puts his face into the mat as his legs become an open nerve, transmitting pain all throughout his body. He shakes his head at Eddy Long asking if he wants to give up, but that’s about all he feels he can do as the hold is firmly locked in. “PETE! COME ON, PETE!” But Pete looks up weakly at the call, as it’s not someone in the crowd, but in actuality the wounded Frost, leaning over the ropes and breathing heavy, but extending his hand out for a tag! “Is Frost insane? He’s probably worse off than Pete! Why in God’s name would he want tag IN?” “Because Pete’s his partner and he knows that he has to do something, Bobbie,” says Grand Slam in the sage-like voice that only he could do, “He just can’t hang Pete out to dry, and if that means taking a beating at the hands of Justice and Rule… then so be it.” Pete gets up onto his hands, the crowd cheering him every step of the way, and slowly begins trying to move towards his tag partner, who holds out his hand with a grim face. “COME ON, DAMN IT! COME ON!” Frost calls to him again, and Pete’s face is just contorting with pain… but he keeps moving. He keeps going, and getting closer, despite the Judge trying to stay in place... *SLAP* AND THE ROOF NEARLY COMES OFF THE BUILDING AS FROST GETS PETE’S HAND AND COMES THROUGH THE ROPES WITH A MASSIVE LARIAT TO THE BACK OF THE JUDGE’S HEAD! The Judge hits the mat hard, holding his head as Pete manages to get his legs away from the old man, and Frost waits for the old man to get up before slamming him down again! “Frost is on FIRE! He actually may have a chance right now!” “No! If he’s on fire then why doesn’t he just melt, damn it!” Hearford barely manages to get to his feet, and Frost quickly takes him by the wrist and tosses him at the ropes, and he reaches out for Ejiro, who he quickly tags in as he goes past. Ejiro leaps over the ropes, and the two come charging at Frost… and receive stereo clotheslines for their efforts! The two get up, and Frost goes between the two, throwing punches at both of them as he holds them both off alone! “FROST! FROST! FROST! FROST! FROST! FROST!” The crowd chants as their hero holds off the tag team with his punches, but he’s the tragic type through and through, and his downfall comes as Ejiro ducks under one of his punches and nails him in the face with an elbow! Frost stumbles back a little, and that’s all Justice and Rule need as both of them grab him by the wrist before they fling him at the ropes. Hearford gets ready and pulls up Frost over his head and Ejiro locks in a facelock as he drills him back down to the mat! “GAVEL BANG!” With that, the Judge quickly slides out of the ring so that Eddy Long can make the count! ONE! TWO! T H R E E E E E E E E EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!! *DING DING DING* “The winners of the match by pinfall and STILL!... S!W!F! TAG TEAM CHAAAAAAAAAAAMPIONS…. JUSTICE! AND! RUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUULE!” A loud chorus of boos comes from the fans as Ejiro gets off of Frost’s limp body, and Hearford and him high-five each other on the big victory. The two go down and get their belts quickly, not taking anytime for extra taunting in the ring as they begin to head down the ramp. As they reach the stage, they turn one time to see LDP helping Frost off the ground, and the four connect eyes for a few seconds. A silent word is exchanged, and the two tag champs walk off the stage. Back in the ring, though, LDP and Frost begin to walk out, and suddenly clapping can be heard. It grows and grows as the camera pans out to see the entire arena rising in an ovation to the two for their extraordinairy effort! “Just amazing. Even if they didn’t win the titles, I have to say that LDP and Frost will definitely be remembered for taking the tag champs to the absolute LIMIT.” “Pfft. Whatever.” “Seriously, Bobbie, you don’t always need a huge title run to be remembered. Just look at the Cyclone Comet, who only had two tag reigns but is STILL in the WF Hall of Fame.” “Meh. All I care about is Justice and Rule retaining their titles.” “Well, up next is Nathan Kibagami vs. Janus, which should be one brutal bout! See you in just a moment!” *Fade to a promo hyping up Flesher-Brand Condoms: “Ribbed for Her Flesher!”. Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Guest Suicide King Report post Posted June 23, 2003 The cheering of the crowd is immense as SWF 13th Hour comes back on the air, the arena packed to the brim with yelling and cheering fans. We pan around to see such wonderful signs as "We Want To Eat Chilly Dog!" and "Tom Flesher Is Your God!", complete with a big smirking poster of the Superior One. A sign that's almost missed is "Chaos Theory - Tribute To The Muzzums!". As the camera pivots around the arena on its way towards the announcing table, we're treated to more signs such as "So Says The Janus!" and "CROW GOT BUMPED!" - the latter has a picture of the Antichristian Phenomonon, looking as suave and gothic as ever. The camera finally completes its circuit of the arena and we're greeted with the faces of 'Grand Slam' Mark Stevens and 'Ambigiously Gay' Bobby Riley! "Welcome, folks! Welcome to Ess-Dubbleyu-Eff THIRTEENTH HOUR! We've had an incredible show so far, and this next match is going to be even more incredible!" Stevens shills. "Damn straight, Stevens! We get to see the seven foot Hell Machine demolish Nathaniel Kibagami in a match that has no rules at all! It's going to be a complete massacre!" Riley cackles. "Nevertheless, let's take a brief look at what brought this match in the first place!" The view goes to the Smarktron, showing a series of clips in succession. The first, of Janus going berserk at Battleground, and being tamed only by the harsh strikes of Nathaniel's cane. Then another clip, of Janus and Nathan staring at each other backstage, talking about potential. Whatever Janus said struck a cord in Nathan, as he sneers and leaves the giant standing alone. The final two images of the clip are Nathan locking the Triangle Choke in on Janus, and of Janus brutally Dark Bombing Kibagami into the mat from the apron. "Ever since Nathan attacked at Battleground, he and Janus have been playing some sort of sick game with each other! I don't know what goes through Janus' head, but now he has Nathaniel Kibagami where he can't escape, and it bodes no well for him!" Stevens comments. Riley cackles like a maniac. "Mwahahahaa! When Janus gets his hands on that poor fool, he'll..." The commentary is cut off as the lights slowly begin to fade. Eventually, 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 Tool's “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 in the arena 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 and almost seems to hesitate on the ramp for a moment, before turning his head as two more figures emerge from the smoke. One is female, and the other has a distinct similarity to Iori Yagami, without being a complete ripoff. Funyon, as always, reads off his cue card to introduce the ex-Clannite. "Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is a No Disqualification match, scheduled for ONE fall! On his way to the ring, hailing from Phoenix, Arizona and weighing in at two hundred and sixty eight pounds...he is accompanied by Angel and Yuuchiro Kaesaeme - also known as THOTH - this is NATHANIEL KIB-A-GAAAAAMI!" With his steel-tipped cane in hand, Kibagami slides into the ring, followed by Angel. Thoth declines and stays on the outside as Nathan climbs the turnbuckles and lifts his arms into the air for a crucifix pose. While he does this, referee Mark Hebner has a few words with Angel, before heading towards the ropes and exchanging words with Thoth as well as the lights come back up. "Looks like Hebner's establishing from the outset that Thoth and Angel are not to interfere in the match." murmurs Stevens. "Excellent. Who knows what Janus would suffer with cheats like those?" "Thoth and Angel are upstanding people, Riley." "Thoth? Don't you mean Orochi?" Riley smirks. Stevens scowls at his co-announcer's sudden growth of intelligence, but Riley is shut up by a level stare from Thoth, before the lights in the arena drop again. Mist begins to billow in front of the entrance ramp, and a single spotlight lifts itself to focus on the curtain. There's utter silence for a moment before the familiar face of a young man fades into view on the Smarktron, and the soft voice of Burton C. Bell echoes through the arena. "Consumed with memoriiiies... That preceded to-daaaay... Given a chance to be-reave.... Life that's slipping A-WAAAAAAAAAAAY!" As the heavier riffs of Fear Factory's "Resurrection" blaze through the arena, the image on the Smarktron, now riddled with cracks, explodes. It reveals the snarling face of Janus, and clips of some of his most vicious spots are displayed on the screen as the crowd boos and looks at the stage. The entrance curtain billows in the mist, and the seven foot figure of Janus steps from behind it, red eyes practically burning in the spotlight. He stands on the stage as blue pyrotechnics begin to flow up from either side of the ramp in a blue shower, and lifts something above his head with one hand. "Oh God, Riley. He's got the Equalizer" Stevens groans. "And his opponent! Weighing in at three hundred and fifty pounds, hailing from Sydney Australia! He is the Hell Machine...JAAAAAAAAAANUS!" Riley just cackles again as Janus slowly begins to walk towards the ring, his red eyes totally ignoring anything around him. The seven foot monster is focused on one thing and one thing only - and that is Nathaniel Kibagami. Even Angel and Thoth are non-factors to his attention as he comes to a stop at the base of the ramp to stare up at his opponent, before lifting both arms into the air... ~*BOOM*~ ...and prompting a huge explosion of blue fire from the turnbuckles that brings the lights back on! Resurrection fades out, and the crowd actually goes silent as Janus climbs onto the apron, neither he or Kibagami moving their heads as they stared unerringly at each other. The atmosphere of the arena is so thick one could cut it with a knife. "It's come down to it now, Riley. Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide, for Nathaniel Kibagami..." Stevens murmurs. "I know...feel the tension, Stevens...it's almost as tense as when I..." Riley is stopped as Stevens lifts a finger and points to the ring. Switching the Equalizer over to his left hand, Janus pushes the ropes down and begins to step over them... *FWOOOOOSH-THUNK!* ...and the giant lets out an inarticulate cry of pain as the steel-tipped cane Nathan is holding slams into his left hand, numbing it and making him drop the Equalizer! The crowd cheers for this, and Janus shakes his hand as if trying to get the numbness out of it. Taking complete advantage of the situation, Kibagami throws the cane aside and hits the opposite rope, roaring back towards Janus... ...who looks up from his hand to take a stiff Yakuza Kick in the chest that knocks him straight off the apron! The giant falls backwards to the outside, temporarily stunned as he slams into the thin matting back first. Unfortunately, as Kibagami slides out of the ring to continue his advantage, the Hell Machine is already beginning to rise again. Seeing the monster already rising to his feet, Nathan charges in, planting a foot on the giant's raised knee. "Shining Wizard!" Stevens hollers. "Caught!" responds Riley. Janus closes his arms around Nathan's waist, stopping the move dead. Struggling, the ex-Clannite rears back and attempts to break Janus' grip with repeated elbow smashes to the head! The Hell Machine's head snaps back several times under the blows, but he ignores it and rises to his feet... ...before throwing Nathan away from himself and charging forward, driving his shoulder into Kibagami's stomach and ramming him back into the ringpost with a modified Gore! The crowd 'oooo's in sympathetic pain, and Nathan collapses to the ground, holding his stomach. Janus steps back and tilts his head from side to side, then shakes it to clear the fogginess from those rapid fire elbow smashes. Dragging Nathaniel upright, the Hell Machine rolls him into the ring, and then rolls in after him. *DING DING DING* "And the match has officially started, Riley! Nathan with an impressive attack before the bell, but Janus nullified it all by making Nathan one with the ring post!" Stevens calls. "Bahaha! By the time Janus is done, Kibagami will NEED that ringpost to keep his spine and neck in alignment!" Riley cackles. From ringside, Thoth and Angel look on as Janus pulls Nathan to his feet once more and rears his arm back before firing it forward for a stiff lariat! Showing that he's not just going to be a punching bag, the ex-Clannite ducks the blow and fires back with a stiff palm strike to the Hell Machine's chest. Janus grunts and just glowers down at him - and showing a little bit of worry, Kibagami unloads a massive flurry of palm strikes against Janus' ribcage! However, the Hell Machine seems to totally ignore his opponent's offense, only stumbling back slightly under the strikes of Nathan's hands! The crowd looks ready to bring up a "Let's Go, Nathan!" chant, right until Janus slams a hefty knee into Nathan's abdomen and grab him around the waist before dropping him crotch-first across the giant's knee! In pain from the inverted atomic drop, Nathan clutches his poor nads and staggers back, and is unable to dodge when Janus absolutely FLOORS him with a lariat before looking around and sliding out of the ring! "Uh oh, why is Janus going outside?" Stevens murmurs. "I think he's taking advantage of the no disqualification stipulation, my dear Stevens....." Riley grins. Apparently not remembering where he dropped the Equalizer and only wanting to inflict pain on Nathan, the giant lifts the ring apron and hunches down. He searches around in the dark underside of the ring, before finally pulling out a table. He looks at it, then sets it aside, and pulls out a steel chair. Satisfied, he lowers the ring apron and looks up... ...just in time to see Kibagami's feet come between the ropes and slam into his face! The Hell Machine is toppled onto his back once more as Nathaniel hangs off the ropes for a moment before using them to flip himself back into the ring. The crowd cheers for this as again, Janus is forced to shake his head and find his bearings. While he lifts himself back to his feet, Nathan turns towards his corner, where Thoth is saying something. "Hello, what's going on over there, Riley?" Stevens comments. "Heck if I know. A pep talk by his dear brother, I guess?" Riley responds. Whatever Thoth is saying as he points towards where Janus is, Nathan appears to have a problem with, and the ex-Clannite shakes his head and waves Thoth off. He turns towards where the giant had fallen, only to see Janus rising back to his feet. Wanting to keep the giant down, Nathan charges and swings his legs between the ropes again... ...but Janus catches them, and pulls Kibs' legs over his shoulders! Clinging to the ropes, the ex-Clannite tries to struggle free of Janus' grip as the giant grabs his waist. The seven foot monster pulls hard on Nathan's body, kicking his legs out and dropping down into a sitout powerbomb...on the chair he'd dropped! The crowd "ooooo"s in sympathetic pain, and Nathan cries out, clutching the back of his neck. Janus simply rises to his feet and pulls the chair from under Kibagami's body and lifts it above his head.... *CRACK!* ...and plants a massive chairshot right into Nathan's exposed face! *CRACK!* And another! *CRACK!* And one to the ribs! Janus pauses... *CRAAAAAACK!* And another to the fallen ex-Clannite's head! Nathan's face is literally a mess of blood after Janus had finished with his brutal attack, and the seven footer wasn't finished yet. Lifting the fallen Kibagami to his feet, Janus lifts him up into the air, pumping his arms...and throwing Kibagami over the railing and onto the concrete floor with the Chaos Theory! The front-rowers wince and back away at the bloody mess Janus has made of Nathan's face. "My god...this match has already taken a turn for the worse..." Stevens looks ill. "Janus just brutalised Nathaniel's face with that chair...and now he's thrown him out onto the concrete..." Riley looks a little better. "At least Janus will get to do what he's wanted - get revenge on Nathan for what he's done!" His voice, however, is quavering a little. Everyone watches in almost stunned surprise as Janus looms over the railing, grabbing one of Kibagami's arms and dragging him to his feet, and then pulling him over the railing. Supporting the ex-Clannite with one great arm, Janus rolls the poor man back into the ring, then lifts the table and slides it in after him. The seven footer then also re-enters the ring with an ominous grin on his face. As Kibagami tries to find his bearings, Janus picks the table up and holds it in front of his body, measuring his opponent's position. "It's amazing he has the power to hold it like that, Riley...but this really isn't looking good." Stevens murmurs. "I'm all for beating hated rivals, but Janus is a bit...extreme, Stevens." responds his partner. With a grin on his face, Janus charges forward with the table, planning to just ram it straight into Nathan's body and shred the ex-Clannite with the broken table...which would have gone just as well had Nathan not launched himself off the ropes at high-speed and Yakuza Kicked the table! The shattering wood blasts back into Janus' body, shredding flesh of skin and chest and making the giant reel back in pain, falling to the ground and dropping the table. Nathan leaps forward in an attempt to get a pinfall and end the match! ONE! ... .... ..... TWO! ... .... NOOOOOOO! Janus thrusts an arm into the air! Nathaniel rolls away, propping himself up in one of the turnbuckles and eyeing the fallen giant as the Hell Machine crawls to the ropes. The camera switches to the announce table where Mark Stevens and Bobby Riley watch on. "Nathan countering that attack by kicking the table straight THROUGH Janus..." "Janus will get back up and kick ass, you watch!" Riley responds. "I have no doubt of that, Riley..." Janus leans on the ropes, blood staining his face and chest. Despite the obvious punishment both he and Nathan had endured, both men did not seem to be finished. Leaning on the turnbuckle, eyes narrowed and breathing heavy with the blood that spattered his body, Kibagami knew he had a chance to finish Janus now, once and for all. He had to take it. "DEMONSTAR!" Nathan froze and turned his eyes towards his brother. At ringside, Yuuchiro Kaesaeme looked almost fanatical for a moment, then turned to the crowd. The people in the front row took up the cry, not knowing the import of what they suggested, only wanting to see Janus punished for the damage he'd done. "DEMONSTAR!" "DEMONSTAR!" "DEMONSTAR!" "Look at this crowd, Riley! They're calling for it." Stevens is awed. "Yeah, I know, Stevens." returned his co-announcer. Neither announcer was daft - they knew what the Demonstar meant. Nathaniel stood and stared at the crowd, and at his brother and girlfriend. The latter two were watching him intently, and the crowd continued to chant. Shaking his head he turned around, to see Janus lifting himself off the ropes and charging towards him, shoulder lowered for a Gore... ...Nathan narrowed his eyes.... ....and the giant, like he had in that six-man match so long ago, ran STRAIGHT into a skull-cracking, brain-rattling GAMENGIRI! The Hell Machine collapsed to the mat like a sack of rocks, twitching and trying to get his bearings. And carefully, carefully - Nathaniel Kibagami began to ascend the ropes. The crowd continued to chant "Demonstar!" at the ex-Clannite, who gritted his teeth and ignored the cry. Perching on the top rope, Nathan looked down at the fallen giant, then bowed his head and leapt into the air... ...spinning forward in a four hundred and fifty degree rotatation... ...and driving a HUGE elbow home straight into Janus' heart! "LAST RITES! NATHANIEL JUST NAILED JANUS WITH THE LAST RITES! THIS IS IT, FOLKS!" "Get up, Janus! You have to win and....stuff!" Riley is distracted from his usual cries - the match intensity has him awed much like the fans are. Nathan hooks the giant's leg and looks up with dazed eyes at the referee, who drops down and counts, along with the crowd. ONE! ... .... ..... TWO! ... .... ...... THREEEEEEEE! ... NO! The crowd boos in surprise as someone slides into the ring and breaks up the count, slamming a stiff kick into Kibagami's ribcage. Rolling up to his feet, bloodied and dazed, Nathaniel Kibagami comes face to face....with his brother. "What the HELL!? Thoth just broke up the pin! Nathan had this match won!" Stevens hollers. "Hell if I know why, Stevens, but it means Janus is still in the match! Yaaaaaay!" Janus rolls onto his chest, and it's debatable whether he's conscious or not. Nathaniel Kibagami and Yuuchiro Kaesaeme stare at each other in the center of the ring, neither one daring to move for several moments. Kibagami looks questioning and hurt, and Kaesaeme almost fanatical again... ..before he kicks Nathan stiffly, right in the gut! Doubling over in pain, he's helpless as Thoth scoops him off his feet, lifting him up and cradling a leg... ...before DRIVING HIM INTO THE MAT WITH THE RIOT OF THE BLOOD! "HOLY SHIT! WHAT THE HELL IS THOTH UP TO!?" Stevens bellows. "You swore! Jesus Stevens, how do I know! He just spiked his own brother into the canvas!" is Riley's response. The crowd boos Thoth as he stands again, looking down at his brother as Nathan rolls on the canvas, clutching at his neck. The boos intensify as Thoth attempts to help Janus up, and comes face to face with the bloodied, hellish glare of the Hell Machine. The brother of Nathaniel Kibagami smiles, and steps away, pointing at Kibagami and yelling something at Janus, something that sounds very much like "Finish Him". The Hell Machine rises to his feet, staggering after taking that skull-rocking gamengiri, and looks down at Nathan. Then at Thoth. Then back at Nathan. Then he growls at Thoth, voice low and ominous. "Pick him up." With a widespread grin on his face, Thoth grabs his brother by the shoulders and begins dragging him upright...into just the right position for ANOTHER boot to the gut from Janus, who locks a front facelock on Nathan and hoists him up in a stalling vertical suplex! "Oh god, Janus, don't! He's already been head-dropped into the canvas once!" "Do it twice! Wooooo!" "Dammit Riley, this could break Nathan's neck!" Stevens is indignant. "He knew the risks, Stevens! Suck it down!" Staggering on his feet, the Hell Machine glares a hole through Thoth and nods at the top rope, and Yuuchiro complies, a wide grin on his face as he guesses the giant's intentions. Mounting the turnbuckles, Thoth stands on the top rope, as Janus twists Kibagami's body around in his grip... ...kicking his legs out from under himself and beginning to drop, as Thoth springs off the top rope to plant his hands on Nathan's legs... ...and KIBAGAMI IS UTTERLY MURDERED WITH A SPIKE RAGE UNLEASHED! The crowd's booing is tremendous as Nathan crumples to the canvas, limp as jello. Thoth just rolls out of the ring and rises to his feet with an amused expression on his face as Janus rolls Kibagami and hooks a leg for the academic pin. ONE! ... .... ..... TWO! ... .... ...... THREEEEEEEE!!! *DING DING DING* As "Resurrection" blasts out of the speakers, Funyon rises from his chair, lifting the microphone to his lips. "The WINNER of this bout...the HELL MACHINE.....JAAAAAAAANUS!" Standing tall, blood caking his body, Janus glowers down at Nathaniel Kibagami before thrusting his arms victoriously into the air. This is accompanied by a loud *BOOM* as pyros go off on the turnbuckles, bathing the arena in blue light for several moments as the chorus of "Resurrection" blasts over the speakers. "All that I knoooow There was no God for meee Force that shatters all Absence of mortality! Reeeeviiiive...ALL my fears! Reeeeviiiive...WASTED tears! Reeeeviiiive...VOID within! Reeeeviiiive...ONCE agaaaaaain!" Janus continues to stand in the ring and glower down at his fallen opponent, and he's joined by the almost-as-ominous prescence of Thoth/Yuuchiro Kaesaeme as SWF 13th Hour fades to commercial... Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Guest Suicide King Report post Posted June 24, 2003 Thoth wastes no time in procuring a microphone as most of the audience has no idea what is going on. The rest of them think they have some idea, but they’re probably drunk. “Why in the world did Thoth just cost his own brother the match? We know that Nathaniel Kibagami and Janus have some sort of connection related to the past, but why in the world would Thoth do this, even after these two brothers have finally reconciled? And why is he on Janus’s side?” asks Mark Stevens, plaintively. “This is more confusing than that Matrix movie,” mumbles Riley. He bats an eye as the crowd starts growing restless, getting bored watching Thoth just stare down at his fallen brother. “You did it wrong, Nathan. You always did it wrong. You always tried to bring them to our side by cutting them. Making them bleed. And by their blood you thought you could bring them to a resolution. Our resolution.” The crowd still doesn’t get it, but who could? This matter is personal, between brothers. There is a story of two brothers who were comedians, who could make each other laugh just by saying “Number 12,” or “Number 92,” since they new each other’s material so well. The cryptic words that Thoth speaks are only understood by his brother. Nathan would understand them better, though, if he was more conscious. “Why did you always want to hurt them? I never agreed with that. Look at Janus’s scars.” Thoth notices that Kibagami is lying face down, and could not possibly see the scars from that angle. “I said look at them!” he shouts, pulling Kibagami up by his hair so he can see. “Those scars! You gave him those!” Thoth removes his own shirt, exposing some small, horizontal scars on his stomach. “You gave me these, too! But there’s a difference. A very important one.” The crowd is growing restless, shouting random things that drown and cancel each other out in a sonic sea where nothing really lives or dies. “Do you know how I got these scars? Hmm?” Thoth leans down, pushing the microphone against Kibagami’s lips, who mumbles something the piece of equipment doesn’t catch, but Thoth does. “Yes, that’s right. The Cell. The site of our greatest battle. Didn’t it feel good? Didn’t it feel good to just let go and unleash in that godforsaken cold metal structure? To heat up its steel joints with our very own blood? Who cares who won or lost? We gave your very hearts and souls to destroy each other. These scars here,” he motions to them, “Are the product of our combined love and hate for each other. Our enmity.” He walks over to the giant, Janus, who is standing defiant before his former master. “But look at these scars, all in a row. These have no soul, no burning passion behind them. No story. You just made them because you were greedy. Nothing short of pathetic. I could ask why you did it that way, brother, but I don’t care. I’m going to let you in on a little secret.” He pauses, looking out at the crowd. Quite a familiar feeling. “Boy, he sure likes to talk, doesn’t he?” comments Riley. “Back in the Clan, when you would try to strong-arm our new recruits into losing their minds... after you would leave, I would talk to them. Find out what they were feeling. Get through that defensive shell that they put up as a result of you. And in their hearts I found darkness. Darkness that begged to consume their soul and make a perfect soldier for us. Perfect soldiers like Doe, Fury, Kruger, K-Os, you remember?” The crowd pops mildly at the mention of the names of superstars of yore. “You kept fucking up, Nathan! You kept fucking up, making my job, and the Clan’s job harder. I wanted to fix your last mistake,” motioning towards Janus, “But we ran out of time. The Clan imploded, and we had to leave him behind. But you know, it’s okay. I can forgive you for all of that. Despite all the trouble it caused, it didn’t hurt too much. Besides, we had fun, didn’t we?” The crowd is beginning to pick up on Thoth’s hostile intentions. Despite not being sure why he is acting this way, they lean in, keen to find out what is going on. “We had fun... and then we quit. We quit, and went back to a life of peasantry, building houses, and caring for children. You and I, dear brother... you and I... are not suited for that kind of work. We are fighters. Warriors. Bred for battle and destruction. Our family history necessitates that. So when I heard that you were returning to the Smarks Wrestling Federation, I wasn’t all that surprised. Was it to wait for Edwin? Or just to fight? Who cares? As long as you’re there, right?” Thoth starts pacing around the ring, in a circle, in lines, in figure eights. “So imagine my surprise, when I saw Janus here in the ring, when I was watching on television. And I knew why you had come back. To finish what you started.” “And I cannot allow that.” Thoth starts pacing more angrily. “Your performance in the ring lately has been pathetic. You suck, Nathan. You’re not even good enough for the Hardcore Gamer’s Championship. Where’s your fire? Where’s your passion? Why did it die?” he exclaims, stamping his feet with each syllable. Mark Stevens starts to nod. “I’m not quite sure of all the details, but I think Thoth is saying he’s here out of pride for his family, if in a twisted way.” “But which family?” answers Riley in a moment of clairvoyance. “His own, or the Clan?” “You shouldn’t have come back here, if you felt like this.” Thoth leans down next to his brother. “You’re my brother, and I care about you! I want you to go back home. I want you to go home, and let me take care of this. I’d hit you again, Nathan, but I don’t think it would prove anything to either of us. I’m leaving now, Nathan, and I’m taking Janus with me. He belongs to me now. When I leave this wrong, and you find it in yourself to get up...” “Don’t follow us.” Thoth drops the mic and leaves the ring without so much as a second glance. Janus follows after spitting on his opponent, and his former Clan master. “Wow... it looks like on a night of returns and new faces, Thoth has officially rejoined the SWF, and is looking to shake things up! What else will happen tonight? We’ve got some possible titles changing hands... and it’s coming up next! Thoth speaks in a low tone to Janus as they disappear behind the curtain. The crowd is murmuring, buzzing about what just happened as the next match starts its preparations. Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Guest Suicide King Report post Posted June 24, 2003 (edited) The camera comes back from commercial break showing numerous SWF fanatics waving signs like a group of kids in a row with “F-R-A-N-C-H-I-S-E”. “The Craven Section” sign is raised proudly, as the group gets trash thrown on them, along with the ever popular “MARKS” sign with arrows pointing everywhere except down and an pretty well done head shot picture of Mak Francis with the caption “BAK THE MAK”. The camera fades from that picture onto the set for 13th Hour, hourglasses, sundials of all shapes and sizes frame a large clock, as Funyon’s voice rings out! “The following contest is the scheduled for ONE FALL and is for the SMARKS WRESTLING FEDERATION UNITED STATES CHAMPIONSHIP!” bellows Funyon. “So do you wanna’ be a Franchise… And live large… A big house… five cars…” YEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!1!1 The wispy sounds of a digital xylophone echo throughout the arena accompanied by a hard beat done by violins, slightly overshadowing the original background rhythm. As the opening lyrics from Mak Francis’s Rock Superstar remix continue to blare over the PA system, the Canadian crowd bursts out of their seats, in recognition of the all too familiar music! “The rent charge… Comin’ up in the world, don’t trust nobody… Gotta’ look over your shoulder constantly!” The SmarkTron, set up off to under the large clock, flares up with a blue and white photonegative image of Mak Francis, which is followed by ‘The Franchise’ in large green lettering, flashing on the screen in time with the beat, interspersed with signature spots and clips of Francis trademark smirking pose. “Introducing first THE CHALLENGER,” Funyon takes a breath, “From Philadelphia Pennsylvania, weighing in at TWO hundred and TWENTY-FIVE POUNDSsssss… ‘The Franchise’… MAAAAAAAAAK FRANCISsssssss!” The cheering rises to a new level in the Saddledome, as the six foot two frame of a self proclaimed franchise wanders out of the back! After taking a few steps out and down the ramp, Mak tilts his shades down on the bridge of his nose, before smirking… looking left and then right, soaking up the crowds reaction… “I remember the days, when I was a young kid grownin’ up… Lookin’ in the mirror dreamin’ about blowin’ up!” *PWI-SHEW! PWI-SHEW! PWI-SHEW! PWI-SHEEEEEEW!!* A few short bursts of green pyrotechnics erupt near the From the Fire set, drawing the crowd into the spectacle, as the cameraman gets a great live shot of Francis, shades down and smirking, which goes up on the SmarkTron, captioned by the SWF 13th Hour logo beside the words Mak Francis. Mak readjusts his shades with a smirk, before slowly strolling down to ringside, taking in this capacity crowd, which has now calmed down. “Here he is, “The Franchise” Mak Francis!” Now at ringside, Francis walks up the ring steps, wiping his feet on the apron, before entering through the middle ropes. Mak climbs the nearest turnbuckle and poses with both fists raised in the air, drawing a wave of flashing lights from fans cameras! He then hops down off the second buckle and readjusts his Steve Austin like knee brace, over his left knee, as the referee tries to check him. “The challenger to the US Title, but the question is… is he ready to be back in a wrestling ring!” Suddenly the lights shut off… BOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!! The crowd, already knowing who is on the way to ringside, becomes slightly surprised, as a cursor pops up on the SmarkTron, which seems to be in DOS mode, instead of the normal Michael Craven entrance. Keystrokes can be heard in the background, as someone, or something unknown to the viewer types: C:\>dir/SWF The distinctive sound of an Enter key being hit, can be heard, as a list is printed onto the screen by the cursor: Directory of C:\SWF\Superstars TheSuperiorOne.exe WatchMeExplode.exe VelvetHammer.exe OneManWreckingCrew.exe Franchisable.exe KingOfNightmares.exe HighPriestOfHorrorcore.exe The sounds of key strokes continue, as a new sentence is typed in: C:\>Run "KingOfNightmares.exe" The Enter key is hit again, but the screen stays, instead, the little cursor beginning to flash very brightly and rapidly for several seconds before... *BOOM!* A huge blast of blue and white pyro explodes, the smoke now lingering on stage starts to clear, as strobe lights pulse to the background beat of Saliva’s “King of My World”. As the first words kick in, the strobes cut out, a single spotlight light shines from the entryway, piercing through the smoke. The light illuminates the figure of The King of Nightmares himself, Craven’s body shadowing most of his front side. He stops to look at the fans, and quickly, he spins around twice, finishing by pointing to himself. After holding his pose for a second, he strolls down to the ring. The lights are now a deep blue, as some of the Craven Section fans bow down to him. “And his OPPONENT,” shouts Funyon, “From Tampa, Florida, weighing in at TWO hundred and EIGHTY pounds, he is the REIGNING, S-W-F UNITED STATES CHAMPION... The King of Nightmares... MICHAAAAAEL CRAVEN!!!” Mike enters the ring, hopping over the top rope and landing on his feet, with the US Title around his waist. He climbs the turnbuckle closest to the crowd, opening his arms wide and soaking in the crowd’s response, a chorus of heavy boos except for The Craven Section, as a white spotlight shines down upon him, casting shadows across his face. Mike then hops off the turnbuckle, walks across the ring hitting another corner, as Mak just looks on relaxed, leaning against the turnbuckle pads. Once Craven finishes, he turns staring at Francis, a HUGE smile on his face, while Mak in response ‘scratches’ his nose with his middle finger. Mike’s large grin morphs into a scowl as referee Billy Chioda checks him for illegal objects. “Ahem,” begins Stevens, trying to ignore Mak’s obscene taunt. “Well, this match-up has been a few months in the making, as Mak Francis was put out of commission by Michael Craven. It’s taken almost three months of rehab for the Franchise to get back to this point and you just know he’s itching to wrestle.” “The fool came back early just to get sent back to the rehab ward! Please explain the thought process Mark.” Once Chioda finishes, he waves his hand three times in an imitation of ringing a bell and waves the two competitors towards each other. *DING! DING! DING!* The King of Nightmares shoots at Mak’s leg, but he keeps Craven at bay, blocking with his hands and forearms, redirecting him towards the canvas. Mike, out of position, attempts to recover, but Mak is already driving through his own counter shoot, wrapping his arms around Craven’s legs, pushing through into a takedown, placing Mike on his back. The self proclaimed Franchise quickly scoots to the Nightmare’s upper body and scissors Craven’s arm pulling back— “JUJI-GATE-ME~! CROSS ARM BREAKER BY THE CHALLENGER EARLY!” “Craven wouldn’t tap out only a minute in!! He couldn’t!! CAN HE?!” shouts Riley, definitely unsure of his own first statement. “Mak did to the same situation at From the Fire, so you know it can happen! It may not have counted in the grand scheme of things, since he’s only got one counted submission to his record, which is to Tom Flesher’s Superior Stretch, but he has definitely tapped to this hold! That must prove something since he has actually passed out instead of tapping in a match!” As Mak cranks back towards the center of the ring, the Nightmare out powers Francis and holds his arm at a bent angle long enough to grab his own wrist. Then with the Franchise still cranking away, Craven slides his leg into the ropes. “Rope break!” shouts Chioda and Francis complies with him, rolling away. Michael stands cradling his left arm, as Mak looks on with that ‘almost had him’ face. Craven shakes out his left arm, and the Franchise winks, with a big smirk across his face causing the crowd to ride Craven for getting taken to school. Mike gives Francis a dirty look as Chioda checks to make sure he can continue. “Well apparently Michael Craven can still go, but he must know that he dodged a MAJOR bullet! Mak taking a page from Danny Williams’ play book from their 60 minute Ironman match.” “Craven’s just too strong for Mak to execute that strategy on, despite the surprise tactic. Maybe somebody with the strength of a Danny Williams could pull it off but not a man coming back off of injury.” “I agree there. If it had been Danny Williams in this ring and he had a chance to lock in that juji-gate-me this match would be over. Although Francis couldn’t complete the hold, it definitely did some damage, both physically and mentally. It hurt the arm/shoulder and gets the point across that he can get a counter and win this match at any time-” Chioda asks Craven one more time if he’s sure he’s okay and after saying a fairly loud “lucky move bitch” he gives a response in the affirmative, so the referee motions for the two wrestlers to come together. “Pfft. See, Mike just dismissed that as a lucky move and rightly so. Francis is a cripple, for Christ sakes!” “Thinking that way just may be his downfall…” The two wrestlers meet center ring, clashing in a collar and elbow tie-up. As they jockey for position, Craven, being fifty pounds heavier, imposes his weight on Francis, backing him up a step. Mak shifts and swats his larger opponents wrist to the left – successfully breaking the grapple, the Franchise ducks low and levers Mike’s left leg, then pushes him attempting to put him onto his back. Craven turns onto his belly while falling, stopping any pinning predicament. Mak quickly secures an amateur waistlock, as Craven shifts attempting to get off his stomach. Francis releases the waistlock and reaches under Mike’s left arm, securing a half nelson – fruitlessly as his opponent pries Mak’s hand from his neck, while swatting away Francis’s free hand attempting to complete some type of hold. “Weird… Déjà vu…” “Huh? What about them Mark?” Grand Slam rolls his eyes “…Never mind Bobby. Francis looks to be going for his Million Dollar Exemption, but Craven is up to the challenge!” Mak, after realizing he can’t get what Grand Slam assumes to be his grounded cobra clutch, goes back to the amateur waistlock he had earlier. Francis quickly floats over top and around, one hundred and eight degrees, trying to snitch in a front facelock, but the King of Nightmares shifts and slides on top, in his own amateur waistlock, swiftly transitioning into a front facelock. Chioda hits the mat to check on the hold, as Craven paintbrushes the back of Mak’s head. “Michael Craven is adding some insult to injury now!” “Good, Mak deserves it, after taunting Mike for the entire beginning of this match. Don’t forget he wrestled in college as well.” Mak grabs at the wrist of the Nightmare and pries it loose enough to rotate out, and into a grounded hammerlock. While Mike squirms underneath Francis rides Craven’s hips, not allowing him to do much except expend energy. Craven continues to search for his out, but Mak keeps his hips low, stalling out most of his movements. “That doesn’t make him on par with Mak Francis, the nineteen year old All-American and National Champion from Michigan State University. This young man may not be a seasoned vet, but he can counter just like that, and I believe he proved that earlier in this match.” “Just watch Grand Spam, Mike will quickly counter back into control!” “The purpose of locking on this grounded hammerlock submission is that it can be hard to count—” Just as Mark Stevens puts over the effectiveness of the grounded hammerlock, the King of Nightmares gets a twinkle in his eye and tucks his knees into his chest, giving him some leverage. Mak tries to keep the pressure on, but Craven rolls backwards pinning Francis to the mat!! Chioda falls into the count… ONE! TWO— No! Only a long one count, as the Franchise QUICKLY releases the hammerlock and breaks the pin, looking more shocked and stunned than anything else. “—I stand corrected…” “That shut you up didn’t it, Marky Mark! Have you already forgotten how he countered out of Mike Van Siclen’s Cardinal Sin Clutch!?!” “I just was caught off guard. I remember the counter from his Battleground match and an excellent counter it is.” Mike takes control of a surprised Franchise, securing a hammerlock of his own and grinding it in, while taunting Mak. “He’s nothing special!” shouts Craven to the crowd. “I own him on the mat! I own Mak!” BOOOOOOOOOO!!1! Craven sinks his hips in, as Francis, seemingly regaining his wits, wraps his legs around the King of Nightmares and levers Craven onto his shoulders in a pinning predicament!! Chioda, already on the mat to check on Mike’s hold, starts his count… “Francis fires right back on the mat with a spiffy Double Leg roll up.” ONE! TWO— No! Another long one count, as the Nightmare pries at Francis’s locked left leg and twists, placing a great deal of torque on the limb and forcing a pin fall break— “Wow, another counter! This time the champ securing a leg bar of some kind on the challenger’s injured knee!” —But Francis, even though he feels a sharp twinge in his knee, moves his free leg up from its position and slides it along Mike’s neck, before pushing down, entrapping his head between the free and barred legs! “AND IT’S ANOTHER COUNTER! A grounded headscissors surprises the US champ!” ONE! T— No! The Nightmare kips-up once, twice and escapes the pin/hold landing on his back. As Mak shuffles towards his upper body, reaching for his neck, Craven rolls onto his belly, forcing the Franchise to snitch in a front facelock – or attempt to, as Mike, knowing what he’s going for rolls out of his grip and secures an amateur waistlock. Francis quickly leans close to Mike’s left and roll through, breaking the hold and causing both men to sit in a crouch, face to face, after the Granby roll! “Stalemate!” shouts Grand Slam. “After a ton of counters, that mat wrestling ends after a Granby roll in a stalement!” Both men pause for a second and get a round of applause, before the Franchise reaches for a front facelock, but Craven parries, sending Mak lurching forward, off balance and into a side headlock. Craven squeezes, as Francis turns in the hold, first getting up to a knee, then a hunched standing position. Mak alters the two mens’ course, backing the Nightmare up into the ropes, before taking a few steps forward, then tossing him off and on his way. Michael Craven runs the ropes, bouncing off the cables and hopping over Mak, as he hits the floor. Upon his return, Craven is forced to duck, while Mak Francis leapfrogs’ (!), getting a pop from the crowd that didn’t get to see his little exhibition with CIA and had no clue he could still do it! Mike comes back once again, but this time the Franchise is one step ahead with an— “Arm drag by “The Franchise” Mak Francis there. Craven’s back up and he falls victim to a second DEEP arm drag, this one taken into an armbar.” Mak tightens his kneeling armbar, causing Craven to grimace slightly on the mat. The self proclaimed Franchise pushes on the kneeling armbar some more, as Mike pats his shoulder and moves from his BUTT to one knee. Craven shifts a little more and powers his way up out of his crouch, only to have Mak, slap on a wristlock with one hand and push him to the mat. Francis applies more pressure by reaching through Mike’s bent arm with his other arm and grabs his arm applying the wristlock, while pulling upwards to apply more pressure to the elbow. “A keylock puts the Nightmare right back down to the mat.” The Nightmare keeps one shoulder up off the mat and counters out of the keylock, twisting into a hammerlock. Craven pushes on the hold, but Francis sits out and feels outs the hammerlock, looking and waiting for the right opportunity to counter. “The thing that makes Francis so good on the mat is his imagination when it comes to making a counter.” Mak reaches back; securing a one armed ¾ facelock, before flipping his opponent over his shoulder in a snapmare. Then the Franchise hooks on a headlock, just after Craven quickly turns into his body. The King of Nightmares first move is getting up to a knee, then a hunched standing position. Mike alters the two mens’ course, backing the self proclaimed Franchise up into the ropes, before taking a few steps forward, then attempting to toss him off and on his way – in vain as Mak Francis holds onto the headlock, stomping on the mat to prove he’s not letting go. The Nightmare tries to push him off again, but only gets a headlock takedown for his troubles. Craven fights in the takedown, getting a headscissors of his own… “Craven counters with a page out of his challengers’ book. A nice grounded headscissors!” ONE! T— No! The Franchise kips-up once, escaping the pin/hold landing on his back. Mak sits up and Mike quickly secures a side headlock. Mak pushes his way up, forcing Craven back into the ropes. Then the self proclaimed Franchise pushes him away and breaks the headlock succeeding in making the Nightmare run the ropes, as Mak prepares himself… “Nice escape by the Franchise and he fires off a textbook dropkick – but misses! Smart move by The King of Nightmares there, holding onto the top rope and you can see he’s pleased with himself.” states the Heavy Hitter, while Craven turns and leans on the ropes, pointing to his head like he’s gods gift to MENSA. “Why shouldn’t he be? He just outsmarted and embarrassed—” YEAAAAAAAAAAAA!!! Bobby Riley gets cut off, when Mak pops up into the picture and dashes forward. Craven turns to continue with his opponent and eats clothesline, sending him and Francis over the top – fortunately for the Franchise, he is able to hold onto the top rope and stop himself from landing on the thin outside padding! *Thump!* Mak pulls himself back up and over the ropes, skinning the cat to an enormous pop from the crowd, some giving a standing ovation, but most just applauding in response to the LONG mat sequence. Francis backs away from the ropes and dances back to the far corner, before leaning back, maxing and relaxing. Craven gets up irate on the outside of the ring, while the crowd really gets on the Nightmare after that display! MAK OWNS CRAVEN *clap clap clapclapclap* MAK OWNS CRAVEN *clap clap clapclapclap* MAK OWNS CRAVEN *clap clap clapclapclap* MAK OWNS CRAVEN *clap clap clapclapclap* “This crowd is definitely pro-Franchise and shows no signs of changing.” “They’d be pro-Nightmare if they knew how great he was—” And somewhere Scott Keith can be heard mumbling the words “in bed”… The King of Nightmares paces about the outside with a scowl and as Chioda starts his mandatory ten count, Mike rips into a few fans, while his belt girls and members of the Craven section try to calm him down. Michael Craven re-enters the ring, under the bottom rope, still with a scowl on his face after Francis’ showboating, but he locks eyes with his opponent, wriggling his fingers and getting back into a grapplers stance as if to say, ‘lets go again’. Francis, pretty sure of himself, accepts, going into his amateur stance as well. Then the two men move forward and— “The Nightmare baits the challenger in and stuns him with a knee to the gut!” Mike follows up with a second and third knee to the gut, immobilizing Mak, as he backs him into the near ropes. Craven yanks Francis by the wrist in an Irish whip, forcing the Franchise to run the ropes. Mak returns, and eats a viscous clothesline at the hands of the Nightmare! Craven’s imposing figure looming over the down Franchise as he holds the back of his neck in pain! “What a lariat from the King of Nightmares and I’m sure Mak Francis is going to have some bad dreams about that pummeling!” Meanwhile, Mak Francis is attempting to get up, but not for long as the six foot six, two hundred and eighty pounder slams a forearm right into back of his US title challenger. The blow sends Francis falling back to the mat in under a second, but he quickly pushes himself up… *Wham!* …Only to get struck right back down again! The Nightmare stomps away at different spots on the upper body of Mak Francis until he’s reduced to covering up the back of his neck in hopes of protecting it. Craven, very happy with the way things are going now, connects with a sinister punt to the rib cage of the Franchise that nearly lifts him off the ground and gets a loud reaction in the negative. The King of Nightmares soaks up the jeers like only he can with a loud shout— “I told you I’m better. Who Betta’ than Craven?!?!” The Craven section of course, responds “nobody”, but the rest of the arena that has some sense declares “Mak”. Craven makes his way back towards the Franchise, who is now up to his hands and knees, trying to get to his feet, but Mike will have none of that as he lambastes Mak with another brutal punt… *Thwack!* …That lifts him into the air and sends him skittering towards the ropes! The crowd “oohs” in sympathy as Craven stalks his prey, stepping over Mak’s body and pulling his leg up by his black knee brace in a half crab. Mike drags him back out to the middle of the ring, forcing the self proclaimed Franchise to fight his way back to the ropes. “Michael Craven is stretching Mak like a college students’ budget!” Mak scrapes and crawls on his way to the ropes, Craven arches back, really grinding in the hold and even stepping on Francis’ head to stop his progress, but the Franchise won’t give up and reaches out, latching onto the bottom cable with his right hand! “Gimme’ a rope break!” shouts Chioda, and Mike breaks the hold and backs away, while Chioda checks on Mak, who is now leaning on the second rope for but is quickly back on his opponent with a stomp to the lower lumbar. Craven then reaches down and chokes Francis across the ropes forcing Billy to start a count… “One—” The Franchise lays throat first on the ring ropes, as the King of Nightmares lets go and gets a running start, bouncing off the far ropes, before jumping on the back of Mak’s neck and shoulder, driving his throat and chest into the ring ropes! Craven backs up again and after another running start, he dives onto Francis once again! Mike stands up and runs to the ropes again, this time sliding under the bottom cable and as Chioda warns him, in perfect position to… *Thwack!* …Catch Francis with a straight Bossman uppercut to the face! Mak falls back, holding his jaw, and rolls over onto his stomach, as Craven smiles and raises his hands to a large negative response. The Nightmare slides back in under the bottom rope and stands, raising his hands once more to a pop from the Craven Section. tells him to open up the closed fists, but Mike just brushes him off and goes back to handling the Franchise. Mak, now up on his hands and knees, gets grabbed by the head – Mike slowly lifting him up, but Francis, rearing back, gets some separation after a scintillating knife-edge chop!! *Smack!* WHOOOOOOOOOOO! Craven, surprised by the sudden attack, is stunned and doesn’t have enough time to even attempt to cover up from a second knife-edge chop!! *Smack!* WHOOOOOOOOOOO! Mak doubles Mike over with a toe kick to the gut, then grabs his opponent by the head and hits a forearm strike to the side of it, further stunning him and following up with an elbow to the back of his neck – or would have if hadn’t latched both his hands around the Franchise’s neck, before sitting down on his knees and driving Mak’s chin into the top of his head!! Francis’ head snaps back and he blinks for a few moments, stumbling around, until Craven, from a dash, flips forward from behind and yanks him down to the mat! “Jawbreaker, followed by a neckbreaker variant quells that Franchisable rebellion before it could even get started!” “He’s doing us all a favor. If rebellions weren’t squashed, we’d all be speaking in German, French or some other nonsensical language like Canadian!” Mike sits up, and dusts his hands off, laughing a little as the crowd boos. Mak is still face down on the mat as Craven yells out “I am the bad guy!”! The King of Nightmares gets up to his feet and looms over Francis, who is fighting to get back up. Mike leans down and yanks Mak up to his feet, before grabbing him by the throat and leg, before pushing him over his head!! The crowd does actually marvel at the strength Craven shows at first, but immediately jeers him to make up for it, while he turns around, showing him off to each section! After he finishes the spin Mike drops Mak down and then back up in a bench press rep, before twisting and dropping Francis onto his shoulder and falling to the mat, crushing his back into the canvas!! “Big Gorilla Press Slam from the champion! That HAS to have hurt the challenger!” Mak lies on the ground, wincing in pain, as Craven steps on his chest and poses screaming “COME ON BAAAAA-BY~!”! Billy Chioda, looks annoyed as he drops to the mat… BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!1!1! ONE! TWO! T H— No! Francis gets out of the lax pin fall attempt! “TWWWWWOOOOOOOOOOOO!” shouts the crowd in jest at the first near fall of the match. “That was B-E-AUUUU-TIFUL! Did you see the grace and poise with which the Nightmare executed that cocky pin! It was unbelievable!” “Yeah it’s unbelievable all right… the first near fall of the match goes to Michael Craven on one of the most arrogant covers I’ve ever had the chance to see… what a disgrace! This match has taken about the time of a full TV match to get to this point and the first cover that gets two in this great mat oriented match was that…” “Makes for good TV, don’t it.” Craven walks around the ring, taunting the crowd, as the Craven section begins a chant. The King of Nightmares, bends through the ropes, receiving a kiss on the cheek from both of his belt girls, then circles back around and looms over Francis, who is grabbing at his legs in an attempt to get up now. Mak, breathing heavy, gets lifted up to his vertical base and put in a front facelock, before getting heaved into the air— —But Mak flips through at the top and lands behind Craven!! Mike spins around quickly, but Francis is able to strike first with a toe kick that hunches him! Mak lines Craven up, lifting his chin for a nasty knife-edge chop! *Smack!* WHOOOOOOOOOOO! Craven holds his chest in pain, as he tilts his chin up again with his left hand this time for a— *Wham!* —Snapping right hand! Francis sets the Nightmare up for another knife-edge chop, and connects! *Smack!* WHOOOOOOOOOOO! The last knife-edge sends Mike tumbling backwards into the ropes where Mak grips his wrist and yanks him away for an Irish whip – but Craven spins in the hold, stopping on a dime, before kicking the self proclaimed Franchise, doubling him over for a quick and dirty DDT, that spikes Francis on the top of his head, where he stays for a moment, before falling back to the mat!! Chioda moves into position… “What a DDT from the champion! He spiked Francis directly on top on his head! Lateral press, here is the cover!” ONE! TWO! T— No! Only just a two count, as Francis kicks out! “TWWWWWOOOOOOOOOOOO!” shouts the crowd continuing their joke from the first near fall of the match. “He looked like my erect—” “Bobby! Don’t!” “—er set… the way he just fell to pieces. I was pretty pissed when all that hard work went to nothing! What the hell did you THINK I was going to say, Mark?” “…I have no comment on that, but I do have a comment on this match, as “The Franchise” Mak Francis just hasn’t been able to string any offence together. If he could get a sustained run he might have a chance but as it stands—” “He’s gonna’ get beaten like a red headed step child, right Mark!” “How eloquently put, Bobby. Mak Francis is just getting manhandled by Michael Craven as he violently throws him into the corner! Craven lines him up… and buries a shoulder DEEP into the gut of Francis!” Mike backs away a little, allowing Mak to slump slightly, before pulling himself forward using the rope again in another DEEP shoulder tackle! The Nightmare backs up once again, releasing the ropes, before bitch slapping the taste out of the Franchise’s mouth! Francis grimaces at the attack and spits out of the ring, as Craven stalls for a moment and powering forward, absolutely NAILING Francis. This one actually lifting Mak up off his feet! Riley just has to comment on that. “Hah! Mak is getting paid back, in full, for all of that overconfidence he had in the beginning! Remember how he taunted Craven… that’s what he gets!” Mike grabs Mak and heaves him across the ring in an Irish whip, which sends him into the corner. Francis hits the turnbuckles hard and ambles out, right into a Bear Hug from the US Champ! Craven squeezes Mak and the Franchise tries to break his grip, but it gets tighter, and tighter, and tighter, until his arms slowly, but surely, stop attempting to break the hold and fall to his side… Craven smirks, as referee Billy Chioda checks his arm… “If the arm falls three times this match will be history!” announces Riley, reminding the home audience. “One…! Two…! Threeeeeeeee—” No! Mak’s hand stays up and parts of the crowd start to rally behind him in a chant! LET’S GO MAAAK! *clap clap clapclapclap* Craven shakes his head in disgust at the chant and continues to constrict his grip, placing more and more pressure on the rib cage and lower back of the self proclaimed Franchise! Now the entire crowd, minus the Craven Section, has joined in on the chant to rally the young grappler! LET’S GO MAAAK! *clap clap clapclapclap* LET’S GO MAAAK! *clap clap clapclapclap* LET’S GO MAAAK! *clap clap clapclapclap* Mak’s hands begin to shake, as he raises his arms and brings them together behind the head of the King of Nightmares in a bell clap! Francis rears back once again and delivers a second bell clap that jars Craven, causing his ears to turn red, from being hit by Mak’s forearms! Francis sensing that he can break the hold slams his head into the face of fear himself, the Nightmare, getting him to release the hold! “Come on Craven, you had him damnit!” Craven stumbles back and attempts to blink away the pain, as the Franchise runs back into the ropes and dashes forward leaping into the air with his right arm outstretched – smacking its underside into the face of his foe!! The crowd roars in approval, as Mak brings his knees into his chest and pushes out, arching his back and landing on his feet!! “A FLYING FOREARM… KIP-UP! “THE FRANCHISE” MAK FRANCIS IS ON THE OFFENSIVE!” “HE’S A CRIPPLE! HOW CAN HE KIP-UP?!” Mak waves his hands, yelling “Get up bitch!” as Michael Craven staggers to his feet! The crowd has risen up to there feet now, as Mak moves straight ahead, with the US champ in his sights for a Yakuza kick… but Mike catches the boot and immediately sweeps Francis’ free leg before he can hit an enzigiri! “YAAAAKUZA KICK— NO! IT’S CAUGHT! FIGURE FOUR! FIGURE FOUR!” And indeed Grand Slam Mark Stevens is correct, as Michael Craven twists his opponents’ right leg in the shape of a four – but the Franchise kicks him away and into the turnbuckle pads, before quickly getting himself off of the floor! “NO! COUNTER! AND THE CHALLENGER IS UP!” And the Franchise races forward, raising his leg for the high kick— *Whooooosh!* “YAAAAKUZA KICK— NO! THE CHAMP DUCKS OUT OF THE WAY!” —That Craven ducks! Mak looks perplexed as the Nightmare turns him around into a toe kick, hunching him over! Mike swiftly backs up into the near ropes and uses them for momentum, as he jump up scissoring his legs for the Craven kick— “HE’S GOT HIM!” screams Riley. *Whooooosh!* “NO!” —That Mak avoids by standing up straight! “What an innovative counter from the Franchise… standing up, who would have thought!” chuckles Stevens, finally calming down some at the expensive of the United States champ. “SHUT the hell UP, Mark you, you—you MARK!” Francis loops behind the even more mystified Mike Craven, as he can’t understand how Mak countered! The self proclaimed Franchise grasps the champ about the waist and strugglers with his opponent, who is trying to break his grip, before popping his hips in a— *Thump!* “German suplex by the Franchise, but he’s not letting go! Rolling Germans! Could we see some Rolling Germans here?” *Thump!* Francis rolls up to his feet again, with the crowd cheering him on and secures a half nelson, quickly attempting to grab Craven’s wrist and complete the Million Dollar Exemption, for what could only be a Million Dollar-plex— “If he can get the cobra clutch on, he can complete the rolling suplex sequence that many have attributed to his win over Danny Williams at From the Fire!” “Mike’s already proven he’s too strong for Francis to get the cobra clutch on, early in the match and he’ll do it again!” —But Craven proves Bobby Riley right and is too strong for Mak, so he can’t secure the wristlock necessary! The King of Nightmares swings a back elbow and connects jarring the challenger! A groggy Franchise can only look on, as a second back elbow finds its mark and makes him break the hold! Mike swings around behind Mak and secures a waistlock of his own! “See I was right!” “Nice standing switch.” Craven takes the dazed Francis up overhead and down to the canvas in a German suplex, but he doesn’t let go rolling back up onto his feet! He locks one half nelson in, searching for the second one to complete his full nelson! “The Chimera suplex sequence is one of the champs’ best weapons. If he hits, this match could be in the books!” Mak continues to try and fight off the other half nelson attempt with an elbow to the face, but it’s a losing battle because the hold is almost hooked in and neutralizes that attacks effectiveness. Francis grazes the side of Craven’s head with his elbow and realizing it won’t work, tries to headbutt out of the hold, but he can’t! He has no way out and the full nelson is almost locked in… “Hey,” shouts Mak, pointing with his semi free right arm, “isn’t that the Goodyear blimp?!” Craven gives up some slack on the hold and looks… The belt girls turn and look… The crowd keeps there eyes focused on the ring… Except the Craven Section that turns and looks… … But the most important thing is that Billy Chioda looks… *Ding!* The Franchise removes his leg from in between his opponents’ and Mike hunches over some in obvious pain! “While I don’t agree with his tactics, Mak Francis did break the hold, but I doubt that’s all he broke.” Riley doesn’t take his cue, so Mark continues. “Both of these guys were throwing serious bombs, but they know each other too well for that, so Mak improvised—” “Huh?” says Riley turning back from looking at whatever Francis was pointing to. “Did something happen?” “Normally you’d say your monitor went out…” “What?” “Never mind Riley. It doesn’t matter.” Chioda turns back around, with a questioning gaze, looking at the aftermath and rushes up to Mak. Craven continues to stand up, albeit, hunched over, as Chioda speaks— “Hey, you hit him low Francis, didn’t you?” “NO! Why would I hit him low? I was just pointing out that REALLY fat lady over there.” “Over where?” “There!” says Mak, pointing in the same direction. Choida turns around AGAIN and the self proclaimed Franchise drops to his knees— *Ding!* —Driving his arm up into the US champs’ already abused testicles!!! “What fat girl is Francis talking about, Grand Tool?” questions Riley as he turns back to his announce partner. “I don’t see anybody.” “…And I’m the one getting called the tool…” Craven doubles over completely, as Chioda turns back around, but he can’t see anything that would suggest foul play, since Francis has snitched in a front facelock… and cradled a leg… “IT’S THE FRANCHISE TAG!” … Mak hoists Craven off of the mat, stalling him in mid-air, nearly perpendicular to the canvas, before leaping and kicking his legs out… … *WHAAAM!!!* BRINGING CRAVEN’S CRANIUM CRASHING TO THE CANVAS AT A BREAK NECK SPEED FOR HIS JUMPING FISHERMANSBUSTER, KNOWN TO ALL AS THE FRANCHISE TAG~! Thousands of flash bulbs go off during the Franchise Tag and one of Craven’s belt girls quickly hops up on the apron, as Francis immediately rolls Craven off of his back and onto his stomach… “What the hell! Cover him Mak!! Why isn’t he making the cover, Bobby?” Billy Chioda moves towards the ropes and yells at the girl to get down before saying “Forget this!” and trying to turn back to the match, so the other girl grabs him by the ankle and doesn’t let go, while Francis grabs a half nelson! Billy Chioda kicks his leg free, so the belt girl on the apron grabs him by the arm! Mak reaches down and looks to be securing the second part of his submission hold, but lets’ go as he sees the girl accosting the ref! Francis drops the hold and stalks over to the ref, pulling the jail baits hand off Chioda – which she must have take offense too, as she— *Smack!* …No Whooo… —Slaps the taste out of Mak’s mouth!! Francis looks as shocked as everyone in the audience, including Billy Chioda, who kicks both girls from ringside! Mak smirks and waves, as the girls argue with the ref on their way out, saying “Get the stepping’!” The girls continue to trade verbal insults, but leave ringside and go up the ramp all the same. Mak turns, getting ready to finish off the Nightmare— “OOOOFFFFFH!” “DAAAAAAAAAAMN!” yells Riley. “Woooooo-boy, can we see that again…” A split screen graphic occurs, the right side showing the replay and the other showing real time action. While the real time action just has both Mike and Mak, lying on there back and stomach respectively, as Billy Chioda looks on in too much shock to start his ten count, the SWF Replay shows— ======== SWF Replay ======== Craven is shown diving into the picture and absolutely creaming Mak as he turns and takes an unprotected step into his shoulder. The Nightmare bowls through Francis with his shoulder and falls off to the side still holding his neck… while Mak’s body on the other hand, snaps backwards in a whiplash like visual, hitting the mat AND THEN HE ACTUALLY TUMBLES HEAD OVER HEELS ONTO HIS STOMACH! ======== End Replay ======== “Francis just got destroyed…” Both men lie on the canvas, Mak staying on his stomach, breathing heavily and grimacing in pain, while Mike sits up and holds his neck, obviously aggravated by his attack on the Franchise. Craven, still holding onto his neck, apparently not doing that much better than Francis at this point, starts to move and then he pushes himself up, backing into the ropes! Meanwhile, Mak has made it to a corner and still clutching his rib cage, uses the ropes, to pull himself up! Mak uses the corner as a crutch, as Craven walks over to him and tries to pull him out in an Irish whip, but the Franchise won’t let go off the ropes. Craven winds up and hits Francis with a— *Whap!* —Strike that allows him to complete the whip! Mak flies towards the turnbuckles on the diagonal and falls into them back first! The Nightmare turns out of the corner and rushes forward looking for another Sonic Boom, this time in the corner… *Thwack!* …But the self proclaimed Franchise gets his foot up in a nick of time, spinning Craven around! The dizzy Nightmare stumbles back towards the corner, only to see Mak climb the turnbuckle pads and leap off the top most one, flipping in the air, as a nice amount of flashbulbs can be seen going off, in a Moonsault Press!! … Which Craven catches!!! He staggers at first, causing him to back out to the middle of the ring, before he slowly, slowly lowers Francis into a better position and then drives him down across his knee in a rib breaker – but he’s not done – lifting Mak from his knee, Craven hoists him up again and plants the Franchise once again, causing Stevens to comment! “Multiple rib breakers by the Nightmare who is just going to town on Mak Francis. It’s amazing just how fleeting momentum is.” The Nightmare pulls Francis up one more time, going for the trifecta and drops him down across the knee, before pushing him off to the mat!! Craven covers with a lateral press and Billy Chioda, who was checking on Francis’ condition, drops to the mat… ONE! TWO! T H R— No! Francis gets a shoulder up and then quickly rolls onto his stomach! “TWWWWWOOOOOOOOOOOO!” shouts the crowd, continuing their joke from the first near fall of the match. Craven gets up, slightly miffed that he didn’t get a three count, but he won’t let the crowd know that. He stands up and says “I OWN HIM!” which of course they respond back with— MAK OWNS CRAVEN *clap clap clapclapclap* MAK OWNS CRAVEN *clap clap clapclapclap* MAK OWNS CRAVEN *clap clap clapclapclap* MAK OWNS CRAVEN *clap clap clapclapclap* —That causes Craven to smile. He obviously owns Mak and they know it. And to prove it, a cocky Michael Craven toes Francis over onto his back, so that he can sit up! Craven locks in a full nelson to the seated Franchise and then proving his power advantage, he lifts Mak up to his feet stretching his ribs! “Michael Craven must be looking for his Red Fusion, a power that at this stage in the match could spell the end for the Franchise!” “As in T-H-E-E-N-D!” comments Riley, spelling the actual phrase. “It’s all over!” The crowd just stares as they all know what’s coming next… Mak Francis breaking the Full Nelson!!! And as he pulls, the self proclaimed Franchise latches his right arm around Mike’s, pinning it to his own body. Craven attempts to break free but Francis has already turned perpendicular to him securing the limb!! Francis juts his free left arm in between the Nightmare’s legs and rolls to his right… … …PINNING THE KING OF NIGHTMARES BACK TO THE MAT!!! Stevens jumps out of his seat and calls the Peterson…”HO—HOLY SHIT! PETERSON ROLL! PETERSON ROLL!” Riley sits stunned…“Not again damnit! Can’t he come up with a NEW COUNTER?!” And Craven… Well, the former Ash Ketchum looks shocked, as Mak hooks his leg and releases his right arm, before cradling his head and attempting to clasp his two hands together completing the pin!!! As he struggles to lock his hands together, Mak looks to Chioda, who, because of his lack of in ring experience, looks like a deer caught in the headlights, before he realizes that he should count, which he does after diving across the mat into position! The crowd counts along, just knowing the match is over… “ONNNEEE…! TWOOOOOOOOOO…! … THREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAHHHHHHH… … —NOOOOOOOO!” Craven squirms out of the hold JUST in a nick of time!! ““THE FRANCHISE” MAK FRANCIS WAS JUST INCHES AWAY FROM THE WIN!” “That was SO close… Mike could have lost, just like that!” says Riley, snapping his fingers. “I just can’t believe it!” Mak sits up, a glazed over expression on his face, clutching his rib cage, staring out into the crowd, as an infuriated King of Nightmares’ rolls away! “I did notice that Francis couldn’t seem to interlock his hands. He was really struggling with it and that is a key component in the Peterson roll! But you still must give Michael Craven credit for being able to kick out of such a great counter!” Craven sits in a crouch, fuming and then pops up to his feet! “He looks pissed…” “The King of Nightmares” Michael Craven stalks over to Francis and grabs him, yanking him violently up to his feet! Mak bend forward after a toe kick to the gut and the Nightmare suddenly bends at the waist, hoisting him up onto his shoulders in a fireman’s carry!! “…and I mean PISSED!” ““The King of Nightmares is wasting little time, going for the knock out blow right now! I think he’s finally realized that he CAN lose this match at any moment!!” “GULF COAST CRUNCH TIME!” Craven throws Francis backwards, lifting him into the air… but as Francis rotates he grabs hold of Mike’s left arm and pulls it close to his body. Before Craven can react, Mak wraps his legs around the Nightmare’s neck, pushing his left arm hard against the US champ’s neck! The Franchise falls to the mat, securing a triangle choke on a stupefied Michael Craven!!! “YOU GOTTA’ BE KIDDING ME STEVENS!” “COUNTER!” screams Stevens in disbelief as well. “A triangle choke~! Out of the Gulf Coast Crunch, no less!! Unbelievable, we’ve seen Nathaniel Kibagami force the Nightmare to tap out with this hold on Storm last month – but something’s different…” Mike slowly begins to fade, his vision starting to blur, as he moves into unconsciousness! But suddenly Craven gets an idea and pushes Mak from his back onto his shoulders in a pin! ONE! TWO! T H R E— No! Mak releases the submission hold and rolls away, clutching his ribs, while Mike falls straight onto his back in the middle of the ring! “How did Craven do that?” And suddenly Riley has a moment of clarity. “I’ll tell you what it is! Kibagami was able to bring Craven down to the mat, while Francis was the only one on the canvas that time!” “You’re right Bobby! Nathaniel weighs about thirty more pounds than Mak, so he was unable to take him completely down! Who would think that something so small made all the difference in that situation?!” Michael blinks on the mat, looking COMPLETELY out of it, while Mak grabs onto the ropes near the corner, pulling himself up! Craven sits in the middle of the ring on his back, as Francis makes it to his feet to a roar of cheers from the crowd— —which he accepts with a smirk! Mak sees Craven lying there, nearly in the middle of the ring, staring up at the lights… and he gets a thought! The self proclaimed Franchise looks out at the audience, nodding his head, feeling their cheers, feeling that old electricity that he felt back at From the Fire… and he moves through the second and top rope!! “He’s not going too… is he?” Francis scales the turnbuckle, the crowd rising to its feet in anticipation! He pauses for a moment, his left arm cradling his ribs, before lifting his hand in the air and shouting— “Gimme’ some of that Brotherly Love!!!!1!” The crowd roars back Mak’s response and then Francis stands to his full height, as Billy Chioda checks on Craven, asking him if he’s okay! Chioda then sees Mak ready to leap off the top rope and hit his Frog splash! Ohhhhhhhhhhh! …And then he sees the ropes, as the King of Nightmares has booted him into the cables, causing Mak to crotch himself! “Well THAT had to hurt.” “Maybe you should kiss it and make it all better, Grand Prick!” “I’ll leave that to you, Bobby… I know he isn’t Tom, but still…” Mak dangles on the top buckle, in clear pain, as Craven pulls himself up coughing a little! Choida gets in his face, saying he did it on purpose, but Craven waves his hands in front of his face, claiming it was an accident! “The New King of Nightmares, Michael Craven, seems to be climbing the ropes! What are we going to see now?” Craven reaches for Mak, but the Franchise fights back and knocks him down with a forearm to the face! Mak, slowly lifts his left leg over the ropes and tries to catch his breath for a minute… but Craven is right back on him, climbing the ropes again and— *Whap!* —Punches Mak square in the face! The Franchise lies there, stunned, as Craven bends Mak’s left knee… lifts him into the air by his waist and knee brace… AND THEN HE LEAPS OFF, DROPPING TO THE MAT ON BENDED KNEE, CRUSHING FRANCIS’S INTO HIS OWN!!! “DEAR GOD! Michael Craven hits a SUPER SHINBREAKER, right on Mak’s surgically repaired knee!!” Craven sits on the canvas, holding his own knee a little, from hitting Francis’ knee brace, while Mak rolls around on the ground! Mak, finds his way to the ropes, while Craven still tries to clear the cobwebs, and slowly yanks himself up, before failing back down in pain! Mike stands, still very light headed, but he knows what he has to do. Meanwhile, Francis grabs onto the second rope and lifts himself up onto his good leg. Craven stumbles forward and kicks at the knee of the Franchise— YEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!1! —But it’s caught! Mike hops around on one leg, but then quickly leaps— *CRACK!* —Totally plastering Mak with an enzigiri! Francis falls like a sack of bricks and Craven capitalizes, grabbing his right leg and twisting it into the shape of a four and falling back!! “Figure four, Figure Four by the champion!” The self proclaimed Franchise grits his teeth in pain, but does not cry out, as Craven puts more pressure on his extended leg! Mak sits up, not allowing his shoulders to hit the mat so that Chioda can count a pin fall! Francis checks his surroundings and suddenly realizes just how close he is to the ropes! Mak reaches back and latches a hand on the bottom cable to get a rope break! “Gimme’ a rope break!” yells Chioda, but Craven shakes his head and does not release the hold! “One…! Two…! Three—“ “See that Stevens! Craven held on JUST a little bit longer, using the referee’s count to his advantage!” Mike finally breaks the hold and backs away, while Chioda checks on Mak! Craven quickly moves in and drags Francis out to the center of the by his right leg! Mark Stevens comments, as the Nightmare twists Francis’s right knee into a four! “Michael Craven doing the smart thing and going right back to— SMALL PACKAGE!” ONE! TWO! T H R E— No! Craven escapes the roll up and pops up to his feet! “Another near fall for the Franchise on a inside cradle that most people call a small package and he looks highly agitated that Francis has been able to counter a good portion of his moves in this match!” “Mike really needs to hit a big move or two, to put Francis away and he’s already countered the Gulf Coast Crunch…” Craven looks out to the crowd who chants— MAK OWNS CRAVEN *clap clap clapclapclap* MAK OWNS CRAVEN *clap clap clapclapclap* MAK OWNS CRAVEN *clap clap clapclapclap* MAK OWNS CRAVEN *clap clap clapclapclap* —And he looks out at crowd, chanting for his enemy and yells for them to shut up. Meanwhile, Francis hobbles up to his feet from the inside cradle, but Craven is quickly on him and he eats a toe kick to the gut! Mike backs up into the near ropes and uses them for momentum, as he jump up scissoring his legs… “The King of Nightmares connects with his Craven kick! That may be the big move that finally helps him finish the Franchise!” Craven toes Mak over onto his stomach and climbs through the ropes, scaling to the top of the turnbuckle pads! The Nightmare answers back to the chant early by posing on the top and saying, “I… OWN… MAK… FRANCIS!”! He balances on the top and leaps out… Somersaulting backwards… … Sticking out his right knee… AND LANDING ON NOTHING BUT THE POINT OF HIS KNEE, AS THE FRANCHISE ROLLS OVER ONTO HIS BELLY!!! “HE MISSED! HE TOOK A CHANCE AND MISSED!” screams Stevens. “He landed on that knee badly, but that’s the cost of using high risk maneuvers.” “Jesus, is Francis a cat or something… he just won’t die!” Craven rolls around on the ground, holding his injured knee, as Mak crawls his way towards the near ropes. Mike continues to cradle his injury, while Francis gets up with the ropes assistance! Mak stands tall, just as Craven gimps from his back into a crouch and finally up, albeit for a short time, as Francis comes springing off the ropes and dives forward in a modified bulldog! Mak hobbles up to his feet and bounces off the near ropes strutting like the pimp he is, causing the crowd to pop and the Craven Section to rise and boo loudly… …And he HITS the fist drop! “The Truth Hurts, but some things just need to be said!” calls out Grand Slam. ONE! TWO! T H R— No! Only a long two count for the Franchise, as Craven gets a shoulder up! Mak gets up and waves his hands in the yelling for Mike to get up! The Nightmare slowly drags himself up off the ground and turns, his eyes becoming wide as dinner plates since the self proclaimed Franchise is racing forward, raising his leg for the high kick— *CRACK!* —Which connects causing a cloud of sweat to fly off his head! Mike takes the shot on the chin, but doesn’t fall, stumbling around in the center of the ring, as the self proclaimed Franchise backs up, readying himself for another Yakuza kick, exploding forward and sending the Nightmare to the mat, when dashing boot meets head!! *CRACK!* Francis leans on the ropes for support, as Craven tries to shake the cobwebs out of his head and pushes himself up to one knee in the center of the ring! Mak looks on, tired and sweaty from all the energy he’s using up, too try and finish Craven off, but he pushes on, exploding off the ropes again, raising his leg for the high kick— “HE CAUGHT IT! LEG TRIP BY THE CHAMP! FIGURE FOUR! THIS COULD BE IT!” Mak flails about trying to stop him, but there’s nothing he can do, as Craven complete the figure four! The self proclaimed Franchise grits his teeth in pain, but once again does not give him the satisfaction of crying out, as Craven puts more pressure on his extended leg! Mak sits up, not allowing his shoulders to hit the mat so that Chioda can count a pin fall! Mak looks to the ropes, but he’s trapped in the center of the ring! He punches Mike in the face, but the Nightmare falls back on the hold and stretches Mak’s knee! “He’s gonna’ tap! He can counter out of this one!” shouts Bobby, just as Mak’s shoulders hit the mat. Billy Choida counts… ONE! T— No! Francis rises back up into his seated position! Mak looks out at the crowd, as they chant for him, will him on and suddenly, he raises his right hand in the air… attempting to turn on his hips and flip the figure four over! Craven, realizing what he’s trying to pull raises his left arm and begins fighting off the counter effort – but he can’t, as Francis flips the figure four leg lock! “He flipped it,” mumbles Riley, “he flipped the GODDAMN FIGURE FOUR! You GOTTA’ be kidding me!” “Why isn’t Michael releasing the hold? All the pressures on him now!” As Stevens says this, the Nightmare starts attempt to re-turn the figure four back in his favor!! Mak looks at the crowd in shock, as Craven fights… but sadly, can’t turn it back over… so he releases the hold! Mike crawls away towards the nearest corner, as Mak grabs the ropes too, pulling himself up! “The first man to his feet here has the definitive advantage.” “You don’t say Grand Master Obvious! Here’s a cookie! No wait, here’s a job! You can be Captain Obvious in my screenplay!” “I want nothing to do with any cookie or type of job YOU could EVER give me…” The King of Nightmares is the first one to get up to his feet and once he looks across the ring, he sees Mak, almost up to his feet, in the corner and explodes forward, looking for his corner Gore known as the Sonic Boom! … …But misses, barreling shoulder first into the turnbuckle pad, as Francis literally dives out of the way! Craven stumbles out of the corner and turns around, right into the open arms of Mak Francis who hits a Gut-wrench suplex!!! Mak sees Craven lying there, nearly in the middle of the ring, staring up at the lights… and he gets that feeling he had earlier in the match! The self proclaimed Franchise gazes out at the crowd, nodding his head, feeling their cheers, feeling that old electricity that he felt back at From the Fire… and he moves through the second and top rope!! “He’s not going to try AGAIN… is he?” Francis scales the turnbuckle, the crowd rising to its feet in anticipation! He pauses for a moment, cradling his ribs, but not caring in the least, as he lifts his hand in the air and shouting— “I think it’s time to gimme’ that Brotherly Love!!!!!!!1!1” The crowd roars back Mak’s response and then Francis stands to his full height… … … AND LEAPS OFF THE TOP ROPE, HITTING THE FROG SPLASH!!!!!1! He bounces off of Craven’s ribs slightly, but falls back down into pin grabbing both of Mike’s legs, as Choida slides to the mat and the crowd counts along… “ONNNEEE…! TWOOOOOOOOOO…! … THREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAHHHHHHH… … —NOOOOOOOO!” Francis stands and can’t believe it!! He stumbles around and falls into the corner. Mak stands by the ropes and then he has an idea and stomps once— *Stomp!* —And looks out at the crowd that’s going ballistic— *Stomp!* —Waiting— *Stomp! Stomp!* —To hit— *Stomp! Stomp! Stomp!* —The Super kick— *STOMP!* … …Craven pulls himself up to his feet, hurting, aching, stumbles forward… …Mak finishes tuning up the band… AND HE MISSES HIS SUPERKICK— —Craven ducks under the blow meant to decapitate him and winds up LEVELING the Franchise with a forearm smash, before falling to the mat on his knees himself!! “What a forearm by the Nightmare, but the question is can he capitalize!!” “I think Mike can spell Grand Fool! He should definitely be able to capitalize!” “…Shut up!” Mike reaches around the Franchise’s waste and hoists him up and over in a German suplex! Mak lands with a thud, and Mike holds onto the waistlock, as he rolls over again hoisting him up – this time snitching in a full nelson! *WHAM!* Mak is stunned beyond words as the Nightmare yanks him up to his feet, then locks on a full nelson before quickly arching back AGAIN… slamming Francis back to the mat with a SECOND rolling dragon suplex THIS TIME HOLDING THE BRIDGE! “The Chimera suplex sequence—” “This has to be it…” ONE! TWO! T H R E E— NO! Francis rolls a shoulder off the canvas and escapes the full nelson, falling onto his stomach! Craven purs his hands in his hair and wipes sweat from his brow, before crawling to his feet and toeing Mak Francis over onto his stomach. He climbs through the ropes, scaling to the top of the turnbuckle pads! The Nightmare wastes no time talking to the crowd! He balances on the top and leaps out… Somersaulting backwards… … Sticking out his right knee… AND THIS TIME LANDING ON THE FRANCHISE! CRAVEN HOLDS HIS KNEE IN PAIN AS MAK ROLLS OVER ONTO HIS BELLY! “HE HIT IT! DAMNIT, MAKE THE COVER, CRAVEN!” “His knee’s hurt Riley! The missed Shooting Star Knee Drop, the turned over figure four! It’s all delaying him from making the cover!” Craven SLOWLY crawls, taking a great deal of time, before making it over to Mak… and drapping an arm across Mak’s body! Chioda drops to canvas while the crowd counts along, hoping for a kick out … “ONNNEEE…! TWOOOOOOOOOO…! … THREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAHHHHHHH… … —NOOOOOOOO!” Mak squirms free and shoots a shoulder up! “…words can’t describe this feeling inside…” “Is it disbelief…?” “I guess words do describe it… I’m going to shut up for a while…” <continued below> Edited June 24, 2003 by Edwin MacPhisto Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Guest Suicide King Report post Posted June 24, 2003 Craven, after the kick out, now sits beside him, staring on, unbelieving! Mike is absolutely enraged and hobbles up to his feet, forgetting about pain for the moment and yanks the Franchise to his feet! Mike loops behind him in a standing waistlock… then he places his head under Mak's arm and arches back, throwing Mak to the mat with a backdrop suplex! "Weird…" comments the Heavy Hitter, and Riley doesn’t even attempt any type of quip, at all… I know, shocking. Craven keeps his waistlock, rolling over and then lifts Mak up to a standing position. With another heave, his pain all but forgotton, the Nightmare arches backward and drops Francis to the mat onto his back again— *Thud!* Mak lands with a thud, and Mike holds onto the waistlock, as he rolls over again. Mak is stunned beyond words as the Nightmare yanks him up to his feet, then arches back AGAIN… slamming Francis back to the mat with a third rolling backdrop suplex! Craven STILL keeps his waistlock and rolls over, once again yanking Mak to his feet. He takes a deep breath, then arches back for the fourth time, setting Mak up to land on the back of his neck in a surprising vicious Tom Flesher like backdrop driver! Craven holds the bridge with a Greco Roman knuckle lock! “This is SO weird…” says Stevens and Riley sticks to his words, not saying a thing, just looking on in wonder. ONE! TWO! T H R E E NO! Francis barely rolls a shoulder up! "Rolling backdrop suplexes, finished with a backdrop driver! How did Mak kick out?!" marvels Mark Stevens. "Okay I gotta’ say something! How the HELL is Mak still BREATHING?!" “To be honest, Bobby, I don’t know! His fighting spirit has been unbelievable tonight!” Finally, Mike pulls Francis up to his feet, spins Mak around, then locks him up in position for a backdrop suplex. He lifts Mak up, but instead of throwing him overhead, he spins Mak around a full 360 degrees, finally sitting out and slamming the Franchise to the mat with a Blue Thunder Driver! The crowd boos but counts along anyway… ONE! TWO! T— NO! Mike breaks the pin himself…! "What the hell is he doing?!" demands Mark Stevens. "Craven just gave up that pin for… no… reason…" And then it hits Mark again. “Déjà vu…” “Why having you been talking about them all night? They got retired by Justice and Rule in that Tables, Ladders and Chairs match!” “Not the tag team you moron! I really have the feeling this happened before… ” Craven stands up, grabs Francis by the ankles and drags him to the center of the ring. Pausing for a moment to gloat, Craven looks down at Mak and says, “I’m gonna’ prove that I’m just as good as him, if not better! That him beating me the way he did and you going near 40 minutes, was a fluke! And I’ll make you tap out, TO HIS OWN HOLD, to do it!” He crosses Mak's legs, and then steps over, turning Mak onto his belly and locking up in a Texas Cloverleaf known to all as the Superior Stretch!!!! “That explains it… I knew I had seen this before! It’s just like the Dissention match between Flesher and Francis…” "You hear that Stevens!! He’s going to make Mak tap out to the only submission move he has lost a match too!” “I know imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, but this may be taking it too far…” Mak's face shows intense pain. He looks around, desperate to break the hold. "Mak has nowhere to go," shouts Riley. "NOWHERE!" Mak turns his head several times, surveying every option. Nothing. He tries to kick his legs out to break the hold with sheer strength. Nothing. Finally, in absolute agony, Mak extends his arm and tries to crawl to the ropes, dragging his own body weight, plus Craven’s, halfway across the ring. Looking sadly at Billy Chioda… Francis begins his trek across the ring! “—I stand corrected…” “Heh, now you know how it feels! The question to ask is, can Mak Francis break the cycle?! Can he reach the ropes?!” BAK THE MAAAAAK *clap clap clapclapclap* BAK THE MAAAAAK *clap clap clapclapclap* BAK THE MAAAAAK *clap clap clapclapclap* BAK THE MAAAAAK *clap clap clapclapclap* Mak pulls himself and Craven across the ring, energized by the crowds chant! Mike bends down on the Texas Cloverleaf, really snitching it in, but Mak makes it to within arms length… …Only to be pulled back to the center of the ring! OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!1! “I am the Nightmare and I am that… damn… good!!!” yells Craven, sure he’s going to get the tap out now. The Franchise pushes up, straining under the intense pressure Craven is applying! He slowly claws, scrapes and scraps because this just CAN’T be the way it’s going to end in his return match… he WON’T let it END this way… Mak reaches out to the ropes but falls short! …because he made a promise to himself… Francis crawls a little more and his fingers graze the bottom cable! …and he made a promise to be the best man he could be… … He thrashes out at the bottom rope one last time… … … …AND HE REACHES THE ROPES!!! Billy Chioda quickly tells the Nightmare his opponent has reached the ropes as he taps him on his back and leg, getting a clean release… but poor Michael Craven, who had his heart set on proving he could do what only Tom Flesher has done— “He tapped! I know he did!!” —But Chioda shakes his head no and backs away, as Craven falls to his knees and looks around in sadness, he moves towards the only other person in the ring. He crawls towards him, begging him to say he tapped— “HE TAPPED! HE TAPPED! HE TAPPED…” Billy shakes his head no, one last time, as the Nightmare holds onto his shirt. Finally, Craven realizes he won’t get the decision changed… so he turns around and stalks forward, right towards a just getting up Mak Francis who thrusts his Franchisable boot forward— *THWAAAAAAAAACK!* OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! “…Wow…” Mak falls face down to the canvas and Craven is on his back! The Franchise gets a huge pop from the crowd, as he crawls his way over to the King of Nightmares and Chioda is right there, as he drapes an arm across his body… “ONNNEEE…! TWOOOOOOOOOO…! … THREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAHHHHHHH… … —NOOOOOOOO!” The crowd can’t believe it, as Michael Craven rolls a shoulder up off the canvas! Mak and Mike lay on the canvas both not really moving as Grand Slam and Bobby finally find there voices. “Michael Craven showing some great heart kicking out of that…” “You ain’t kiddin’ Stevens! Check out what he just kicked out off!” ======== SWF Replay ======== Craven turns around and stalks forward, anger etched on his face… until the imprint of “The Franchise” Mak Franics size 14, Franchisable~ boot smacks him, sending him plummeting to the canvas, faster than the GPA of a High school jock… because college jocks… even tennis players, have great GPA’s… anyways, Craven falls spread eagle and lands that way as Mak falls onto his stomach! ======== End Replay ======== Craven rises to a sitting up position and looks at the crowd with dead eyes as Francis is finally able to roll from his back onto his chest! The Nightmare gets up first, first sliding to a knee and then walking on all fours towards the corner with Mak Francis slowly following behind him. Mak grabs Craven, as the two of them stand and turns him around going for a chop— *Smack!* WHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!1!1] “Don’t you ever…” *SMACK!* WHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!1!1 “EVER…” *SMACK!!* WHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!1!1 “USE THOSE TIRED CATCH PHRASES ON ME!” “Mak pulls Craven out of the corner, he's going for an Irish whip – no reversal – Mike sends Francis into the corner—” Francis hits the corner and flips upside down, before rotating right back down… causing a dizzy Franchise to stumble out of the corner… Craven rears back for his high powered forearm and swings… missing his target as Mak ducks… then loops behind the tired Mike Craven… and the self proclaimed Franchise grasps the champ about the waist and his opponent, fights to break his grip, but he can’t before Mak pops his hips in a— *Thump!* “German suplex by the Franchise, but he’s not letting go! Rolling Germans! He’s going for his suplex combination!!!” *Thump!* Francis rolls up to his feet again, with the crowd cheering him on and secures a half nelson… “We’ve been over this Francis! The King of Nightmares has already proven he’s too strong for you to get the cobra clutch on and he’ll do it again… AND AGAIN, until you get it into your head!” …Suddenly Mak locks on a second half nelson completely the full nelson before throwing him overhead in a Dragon suplex! “He realized he couldn’t be able to hit the Million Dollar-plex, so he adapted and he just might win because of it!” Craven hits the mat head over heels as the crowd gets ready to count along with Chioda, but Francis lets go and allows Mike to fall onto his belly, in a heap!! The Franchise rolls backwards, a little off to the side of his opponent before locking on another full nelson… “What’s he going to do here?” …AND FLIPPING FORWARD IN A BRIDGE! “Cattle Mutilation? CATTLE MUTILATION!? MAK FRANCIS LOCKS ON A BRIDGING DOUBLE ARMBAR! When the hell did he learn how to do that?” “Don’t ask me.” “There’s only one person in the SWF that’s ever used that move but he’s Mag7…” Francis grinds in the hold, arching up once again, as Craven attempts to move towards the ropes. Mark Stevens comments on the scene. “He broke down the arm with the cross arm breaker… he took out the neck with suplexes and now his plan to get a submission even at the cost of losing this match is coming to fruition… It must be bittersweet…” “What Mark?” “The pain of maintaining that bridge must be bittersweet because it’ll lead to what can only be considered a great win…” “Yeah I guess you’re right…” Michael Craven’s face shows intense pain. He looks around, desperate to break the hold. He tries to turn his head several times, surveying every option. Nothing there. He tries to kick his legs out and reach a rope to break the hold. He tries to power out with sheer strength. Nothing. Finally, in absolute agony, Craven extends his arm and looking sadly at Billy Chioda… TAP! TAP! TAP~!!! *DING! DING! DING!* “The winner of this bout, by submission… And your NEEEEEEEW… SMARKS WRESTLING FEDERATION UNITED STATES CHAMPION… “THE FRANCHISE” MAAAAK FRAAAANCISsssssss!” “What a match! What a contest! What a night for the Franchise!” says Grand Slam over the roar of the crowd. Chioda brings the US Title belt over to Francis and puts it in his left hand, as his right is cradling his rib cage! The crowd continues to yell, cheering him on, as he gets to his feet and shuffles over to the turnbuckle, climbing up one rung and then stopping as he can’t go any farther up! He looks out and sees Marie, out of her seat, nearly crying, but cheering and he smiles. Cause he feels the crowd, the cheering crowd and the only thing he can think is… It’s good to be back. Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Guest Suicide King Report post Posted June 24, 2003 As an expectant hush falls over the crowd filling the Pengrowth Saddledome, the Smarktron blinks to life, showing a room filled with clocks, and a face staring out at the crowd. All eyes turn to the figure, which is not immediately recognizable as a single SWF superstar, but as two, the faces of Dace Night and CIA meeting at the middle, merging into one. Both faces smile, and begin to speak as one, lips moving in perfect unison, the sound of a hundred ticking clocks filling the background as well. “Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. The time is ticking down. The Thirteenth Hour has begun. I will enter that ring. I will inflict pain. I will make my opponent scream. I will rise from the mat, each and every time. I will be the Hardcore Gamer’s Champion, the most dangerous man in the SWF.” The two faces separate, cameras turning to the side of either man, so that their joined heads are separated, and instead CIA and Dace Night end up glaring at each other across the room as every clock explodes with sound, ringing it’s alarm, a myriad of gongs, bells, and chimes bursting from the speakers. When they finally die down, both figures step forward, till the ‘Canadian Dream’ and the ‘High Priest of Horrorcore’ stand facing each other , eye to eye, and again, both speak in unison. “I am ready. And your time….. is up.” An image of the Harcore title fills the top of the Smarktron, above both men’s glaring faces, and a digitized voice speaks as the two faces fade. “I am Ironman!” The screen below the HGC belt seems to explode, as each pounding beat of Black Sabbath’s ‘Iron Man’ fills the arena. “Has he lost his mind? Can he see or is he blind? Can he walk at all, or if he moves, will he fall?” CIA fills the screen, eyes filled with a mad glint as he digs through his hardcore bag of tricks, in a clip clearly cut from his recent promo. “Is he alive or dead? Has he thoughts within his head? We’ll just pass him there, why should we even care?” Here, Dace Night is shown, hefting his weedwhacker in one hand, an almost insane smile on his face, as he addresses CIA’s challenge soundlessly. The beat continues to blast through the arena, as The Smarktron cuts between in ring clips of both men, of CIA’s famous world title victory in a steel cage with Mak Francis and Renegade, of Dace terrorizing opponents on his run as Hardcore champion. The clips continue to barrage the audience, the most brutal images both men have produced. In the arena and at home, the song continues, finishing with a clip, split down the middle, each side showing one of the two warriors laid out on the mat, bloodied and beaten. As the final line utters, both men rise from the mat, and the clip fades to a shot of either man standing, with a belt slung over his shoulder. The music disappears, and the image of both men, glaring at each other across the now silent room of clocks, appears. Both men smile, and this time take turns speaking. “I AM the Hardcore Gamer’s champion.” “I am determined to put you down for the count.” “I am the High Priest of Horrorcore.” “I am the final representative of the greatest group of talent the SWF has ever seen.” “I will destroy you.” “I will destroy YOU.” Giving the slightest laugh, together, both men turn towards the screen, images glaring with anger, and the camera zooms out, showing Dace holding his weedwhacker in one hand, Hardcore belts slung over both shoulders. On the other side, CIA stands, his new ‘Hardcore bag o’ tricks’ in one hand, his metal hockey stick in the other. They speak together, one final time. “The countdown is over, and the thirteenth hour is here. I WILL be the last man standing.” The fans erupt with cheers as the video package fades away, and don’t have long to wait to cheer even louder, as the lights in the arena dim, and small burst of light begin to appear along the stage. The music becomes faster, and louder, readying for a crescendo, and small bursts of white pyro erupt up and down the stage. Finally, the guitar beat of the Red Hot Chili Pepper’s ‘Can’t Stop’ kicks in, and a loud explosion can be heard as two towering columns of pyro erupt right in center stage. The blinding light fades away, leaving a cloud of smoke in front of the entryway, through which a single figure rises, emerging from beneath the stage. CIA has arrives in the arena, and as the fans cheer him, he begins his march down to the ring, weapons in hand, face hidden as the hood of his sweater is up. Sliding into the ring, CIA drops his weapons in midring, shrugging the team Canada hoodie off his shoulders, then sliding it down his arms, finally whipping it into the audience, marching over to the corner and pulling himself up onto the top turnbuckle and posing, adorned with his brand new ‘Hardcore’ mask, and a commemorative Dace Night vs. CIA Thirteenth Hour shirt over his singlet. “Well, well, it looks like that time is finally upon us, Bobby. CIA is back on SWF PPV, and it looks like someone’s about to get hurt in that ring, all for a single prize. The Hardcore Gamer’s Title.” “Well, I guess I’m happy. This has been an impromptu matchup, but neither man would’ve let you know it, as they’ve been hurling fighting words at each other whenever they could get the airtime on our great SWF programming, all of which is run by Applewhite Productions, don’t you know. And not only that, but I get to see CIA come back to the SWF, only to be carted away in an ambulance a few days later. Dace Night is the Hardcore Champ for a reason, and he’s going to inflict punishment on the self proclaimed ‘Canadian Dream’ tonight.” I’m hard pressed to disagree with you, Riley. But I should point out a couple things. First, CIA was given that nickname By Mak Francis…” “Who we’ve just seen in action against Michael Craven for the US title!” “Right. And CIA may not have ever held the Hardcore title, but he has never shied away from a beating, either. You have to remember, this man LOST the only Hell in a Swimming Pool match ever, and then went on to win a cage match the next week. AND the week after. CIA can take more of a beating than most, and he’s not exactly shy about doing some real damage in the ring.” “Well, I suppose you make good points, Mark. Or would, if you weren’t so ugly. Nevertheless, we don’t have to wait to find out just who’s going to do the most damage in this matchup, cause here comes the champ!” The lights in the arena fade, signaling the arrival of the ‘High Priest’ himself. Once more the entryway fills up with smoke, black smoke this time, and the opening riffs of ‘Justifiable Homicide’ explode from the speakers, as Dace night marches out of the smoke, the Hardcore Gamer’s title slung over his left shoulder, his ‘Custom’ belt over his right. The fans boo Dace’s arrival, though one would believe it is only because of who he is facing, and where, that he receives such an ovation. Making his way down towards the ring, an almost palpable aura of danger floats off of him, his eyes locked on the man in the ring, who is silently staring back in his direction. Red and Purple lights bounce off the glittering gold over the shoulders of the champion, and he pulls himself onto the ring apron, making the ‘Horns’ with his right hand, and raising it high, eliciting even more boos from the crowd. CIA has returned to center ring as Dace climbs in through the ropes, and holds his ‘custom’ hockey stick in one hand, facing the champ. Dace steps forward, without fear, till he is standing eye to eye with the Canadian, and both men glare at each other for a few moments, before the referee steps forward holding out his hands. Night steps back from CIA just long enough to pull the belts off of his shoulders, handing both to the referee, who promptly raises them in the air, eliciting a cheer from the Saddledome audience. “These two are staring each other down, but neither man is flinching, Bobby. CIA gives away both size and power to Dace Night, as well as hardcore experience, but the Canadian has surprised us all before, and if he’s lucky, tonight he’ll walk out of here with the Hardcore title strapped around his waist.” “If he’s LUCKY, Mark, he’ll walk out of here at all. Dace Night has destroyed bigger, stronger, BETTER men than CIA, and he won’t hesitate to do the same thing tonight.” The bell rings, sound seeming to echo through the arena, and before the sound can even die out, CIA has raised his weapon into the air, only to be met by a hard elbow strike to his face, an audible cracking sound ringing out as the weapon clatters uselessly to the mat and CIA stumbles away, one hand grasping his face. Dace doesn’t waste time as he steps forward to take hold of the Canadian, but CIA fires his upper body backwards, slamming his own elbow into the nose of the ‘High Priest’, driving his opponent back a step in turn. Dace and CIA glare at each other for a moment, then quickly turn away from each other, sliding out to either side of the ring and lifting the curtain hanging from the ring apron, rummaging under opposite sides of the ring. CIA emerges first, a tube of glass clutched in either hand, and slides into the ring, marching over towards Dace. Dace slides out from under the ring apron as well, one arm hanging behind his back, clutching something. Using his free arm, he pulls himself up onto the apron, preparing to meet his oncoming Canadian foe. CIA swings out with the lightbulb clutched in his left hand, but Dace pulls his body back out of the way of the blow, tugging the top rope to bring himself back forward, and swinging out with the hand behind his back, a loud metallic clang sounding out as the metal helmet of a suit of armor smashes into the masked face of CIA, dropping the Canadian to the mat. Looking down, Dace sees that one of CIA’s lightbulbs has fallen across the chest of the Canadian, and Dace brings his fist up high, throwing the helmet down hard so it crashes into the chest of CIA, shattering the tube of glass in the process, driven bits of the broken glass through CIA’s shirt and into his skin. “Ouch! Neither Dace or CIA seems like they want to hold off on making this match as hardcore as possible, but Dace has more experience, and it looks like the Canadian took too much of a risk, and gave Night the opportunity he was looking for.” “I’d say the Canadian has just been knighted by the High Priest, Mark. That is definitely an initiation I want no part of.” The fans boo and CIA cries out in pain, rolling away from Dace to the center of the ring, both hands clutching his chest. Stepping through the ropes, Dace makes his way over to CIA and reaches down, one hand clutching the long blond hair of CIA, and jerking him roughly to his feet. Rearing back with his elbow once more, Dace looks like he is going to drive the sharp joint into CIA’s skull again, but the Canadian quickly whips around, slamming the light tube he had hidden underneath his body into the face of the Hardcore champ, glass tinkling as it spatters all over the mat. Not letting an opportunity like this go to waste, CIA leans down to the mat, clutching the slightly dented metal helmet in one hand, and swings his arm upwards, driving the hard surface into the stomach of Dace, doubling over the champ. While Night is doubled over, CIA lifts the helmet over his head, sliding the metal protector over his skull, and slams the visor down, simultaneously raising his knee upwards so that it slams into the forehead of the doubled over Hardcore champ. Dace shoots to a standing position, cameras catching a shot of his face, tiny bits of glass digging into the forehead, blood trickling down one side. Unfortunately for CIA, Dace merely seems to be angry, not hurt, and he slams his elbow into chest of CIA, T-shirt already wet with blood from the wounds on CIA’s chest. CIA clutches his chest, and Dace reaches around to grab the head of CIA, clutching the helmet now over the Canadian’s face and spinning his body around, whipping him low, sending CIA shoulderfirst between the top and second turnbuckle, shoulder making a wet smack as it collides with the post. “Yes! Dace is no-selling that silly Canadian, and giving the kind of punishment only a man like Horrorcore can inflict. Not only is Dace going to win this match, he’s going to permanently injure that goofy Canuck, so I never have to see him again!” “A BRUTAL shot into the post from Dace Night. In a normal match, these men already would have been DQed multiple times, but this isn’t a normal match. Knwoing these two competitor’s stamina, one has to wonder just what will be able to end this matchup.” “Dace Night will end this matchup, Mark. And he’ll END CIA in the process.” Dace seems about to head through the ropes and search around under the ring some more, but he spots the duffel bag lying in center ring, and instead makes a beeline for that, tugging open the zipper and leaning in to rummage through the bag’s contents. He searches fruitlessly for a moment, before finally pulling out one of those annoying folding scooters. CIA has extricated himself from the corner, and reaches down to grab hold of Dace’s shoulder with his good hand, but Dace grabs the scooter in both hands and spins around, sending it swinging towards CIA as hard as he can. *CLANG!* Unfortunately for him, the scooter bounces off the metal helmet situated over CIA’s skull and collapses to the mat. CIA steps in towards the now standing Dace and launches his upper body forward, driving his overprotected skull into the face of the Champ, another loud metallic bang sounding as the champ crumples from the blow, clutching his nose, a large amount of blood running down his cheek. CIA reaches upwards and tugs the helmet off of his head with some difficulty, the dented metal clutching to his skull in some places, and then throws the object out of the ring so it clatters to the floor near the announce table, and he shakes his head, ears still ringing from the blow Dace dealt him. Stepping over the fallen champion, CIA reaches down and grabs hold of the fallen scooter as the ref begins his ten count, beginning to unfold the trendy toy. ONE! . . . . . TWO! . . . . . THREE! . . . Dace sits up swiftly, still clutching his nose, and facing away from CIA, who has settled the now unfolded travel device in front of himself, and settled one foot on it, ready to ride. Dace brings himself up to his knees, and CIA plants his free foot against the ground, ‘scooting’ himself forward towards the back of Dace. Just as Night makes it to his feet, CIA throws his body into the air, and swings his feet forward, still planted on the metal scooter, driving the device into the back of Night’s knees and crumpling him forward onto his face once more with a loud cry of pain. “Okay. Medieval times. Bike path. Hockey arena.” “What are you doing, Bobby?” “Making a list of places to NEVER go with CIA! I mean, Dace Night’s nose HAS to be broken, and I don’t think his knees are going to be feeling very good right now, either.” “No doubt, Bobby, CIA is being ruthless, capitalizing after Dace made the tiny mistake of forgetting CIA’s skull was too well protected. Not that I doubt that shot hurt like crazy, but these men stepped into this ring for a last man standing match, and neither one is going to fall that easily.” Dace is down, and the Ref begins his ten count again, CIA coming to his feet and stumbling towards the corner, grabbing hold of the top turnbuckle for support. ONE! . . . . . TWO! . . . . . THREE! . . . Dace begins to stir, and CIA sees this, beginning to pull himself up onto the turnbuckles, climbing towards the top. . FOUR! . . . . . FIVE! . . CIA reaches the top rope, but the referee is forced to halt his count as Night makes it to his feet, leaping desperately to hit the tope rope, sending CIA crashing down on the turnbuckle, balls first. The crowd ‘ooohs’ in sympathetic pain, and Dace pulls himself up using the top rope, marching over towards CIA. Just as the Canadian is about to stand and regain his footing, Dace rushes forward and slams his forearm across the back of CIA, causing the Canadian to slam forward, chest colliding with the top of the turnbuckle post with another dull thud. The fans wince again, and begin booing Dace, but Night ignores them, and pulls himself up the turnbuckle till he is standing on the second rope, leaning forward and clutching the back of CIA’s skull. Smiling, almost delightedly, Dace shoves as hard as he can, sending CIA’s chest into the top of the turnbuckle post again, and lashing out with a series of hard elbows to the back of the head. Climbing down off the turnbuckle, Dace goes through the ropes till he is standing next to CIA, the Canadian clutching his chest in pain, droplets of blood soaking through his shirt and dripping to splatter on the turnbuckle. Reaching to the side, Dace jerks CIA’s upper body onto his shoulder, and marches along the apron, till the Canadian is balanced over Dace’s shoulder, and the ‘High Priest’ is in the middle of the apron, turned to face the announce table. Bobby Riley and Mark Stevens both dive out of the way, and Dace leaps forward off the apron, twisting CIA’s body forward in a powerslam, sending both men crashing through the announce table, wooden splinters flying in all directions, TV monitors crumbling to the floor around both men, neither of whom seems to be moving. “Holy shit!” “Holy SHIT!” “HOLY SHIT!” The chants get louder steadily, and continue to ring out, as everyone in the arena seems to stand in shock, looking down at the battered bodies, the decimation caused by Dace’s leaping powerslam. The Referee looks stunned for a moment, but quickly throws his hands in the air, raising one finger and yelling out as he begins the count. ONE! . . . . . TWO! . . . . . THREE! . . . . . FOUR! . . . . . FIVE! . . . . . SIX! . . . At the utterance of this number, Dace night seems to stir, rolling away from the announce table and over towards the ring apron, where he sits, and quietly watches CIA, raising one hand in the air, shooting the ‘horns’ sign to the audience once more. A small ‘Horr-or-core!’ chant breaks out as the ref continues to count, CIA still lying unmoving. . SEVEN! . . . . . EIGHT! . . CIA stirs, moving very slightly, but not enough to get up right away, just enough to be noticeable. . . . NINE! . . CIA sits up in place, both arms clutched around his chest, and lets out a loud cry of pain, his eyes swinging up to meet those of the hardcore champion. The fans let up a loud cheer, and both men begin to lift themselves to their feet, ready to inflict, and absorb, more punishment. Dace rolls back into the ring, and CIA steps forward, falling to his knees as he clutches the ring apron, coughing violently, then spitting, a large red god of blood coming out of the Canadian’s mouth and spattering the ringside protective mats. “My god, Riley! Dace Night just gave CIA a leaping powerslam off the apron and through our announce table, and I am amazed both men aren’t broken in half!” “I have no doubt that there’s at least one boned that just exploded along with our announce table, but both of these competitors managed to rise before the ten count, amazingly, apparently ready to hurt each other even more. Neither man will give up, and that’s good, cause it means CIA is going to get throttled a bit more.” In the center of the ring, Dace reaches over, clutching something in his hand as he moves. Turning his head, he sees what it is, and smiles. Grabbing hold of the solid metal hockey stick firmly, Dace turns back towards the ring apron, where CIA has recovered enough to rummage around under the ring some more. Dace rolls out through the ropes, raising CIA’s custom weapon overhead, and the Ring apron falls from CIA’s clutches as the Canadian turns and wheels on Dace night, holding a deadly weapon in his hand. Unfortunately, his weapon receives a mighty laugh from the crowd, and Dace turns to see what it is, laughing a tiny bit himself as he sees CIA clutching tightly a yellow water balloon. Dace smiles and steps forward, and CIA whip out his arm, launching the deadly projectile, which the ‘High Priest’ makes no move to dodge. “ARRRRGGGHHHH!!!!!” The balloon shatters, spilling it’s liquid cargo all over Dace Night’s face, and the Hardcore champ screams, frighteningly loud, dropping the wepon in his hands back to the ground and clutching his face. The fans seem confused as Dace clutches his light tube marred face, and CIA yells something to Funyon, seated at ringside. Funyon cringes, and raises his microphone to his lips, speaking two simple words. “Lemon Juice!” The fans take in a long gasp of breath, wincing in sympathy for Dace, and CIA rushes forward, slamming his knee into his opponent’s face, so hard that he flips over him to the protective mats. Rising slowly, CIA grabs hold of the steel steps, while Dace rolls back and forth, clawing at his face in pain. Grabbing his Hockey Stick from the ground, CIA turns on Dace, and raises the stick high, as if for a slapshot, the barbed wire wrapped around the head of the stick very noticeable. Though Dace finally seems to have recovered from the effects of the stinging citric acid to his wounds, he has not time to prepare, and barely gets his arm up in time to block the sweeping shot that swishes through the air towards his face, barbed wire ripping into his forearm, tearing away a small bit of Flesh as CIA pulls the stick back once more, adjusting his grip so he can swing it down like a scythe, trying to take the head off of the reigning hardcore champ. *SWISH!* Dace rolls aside, just in time to avoid the swinging blow, and scrabbles underneath the ring, getting his upper body underneath the Ring apron before CIA is able to reach down and grab hold of his tights, halting his progress. “I can’t believe it! Dace night is running away from CIA! I never thought I’d see this from the High Priest of Horrorcore, Bobby!” VVVZZZZMMMMMMMM!!!!!!!!! “Oh, geez. He wasn’t running, Mark. He was arming himself!” CIA seems shocked at this loud sound that rings out, letting go of Dace and backing away, only to have Night slide out from under the ring, all but his hands. Finally his hands slide out from under the ring, clutching the handle of his most well known weapon. A cheer erupts from the crowd, and Dace turns towards CIA with a sick look on his face as the steel shaft of the weapon slides out under the ring apron, motor revving loudly one more time. CIA stares forward, licking his lips nervously, as Dace revs the motor, and raises high overhead, the high speed spinning head of his weedwhacker, revving it to full power. The dans are rocking in their seats now, clapping and cheering, doing the hockey clap as they chant. ‘”Wee-eeed-whack-er!” Clap! Clap! Clapclapclap!’ Dace inches forward, blood cascading down his forearm, staining the limb a shimmering red under the arena lights, and CIA backs away, frightened, till his legs bump into the protective railing, and he is left with nowhere to go, prompting a laugh from Dace, as he continues to come closer. CIA looks left and right, and the fans in the front row back away a bit, not wanting to be too close when the gardening tool begins swinging. Finally, Dace stands before CIA, the weapon raised overhead as if for the killing blow, and he swings down hard…. But CIA raises his hockey stick in both hands, stopping the downward momentum! The look on Dace’s face is one of concentration as he pushes down against the metal stick, CIA gripping the weapon tightly in both hands, but slowly being forced back. Leaning back over the railing, CIA’s arms twitch with effort, and he pushes as hard as he can, but the spinning, buzzing wire at the head of the weedwhacker moves closer and closer to his face, till it is inches away, and then, even closer, touching for just long enough to rip a long gouge in the cheek of his mask. The Canadian’s eyes are filled with fear, and he pushes back as hard as he can, slowly forcing the whirring danger away from his face. Dace growls angrily, and kicks out his foot hard, slamming the toe into the wounded gut of CIA, who crumples to the mats, luckily falling low under the head of the weedwhacker. Unfortunately, he doesn’t escape it for long, as Dace brings the weapom down fast, right into the back of CIA. CIA screams in pain, the shirt on his back quickly being torn to shreds till it is barely hanging on him, and his blood spinning off the weedwhacker’s spinning wire to spatter the protective railing he is against, and even a few drops hitting fans in the front row. “And he hits CIA with the weedwhacker! He promised it before this match started, and that sadistic lawn tool is tearing CIA’s back into pieces!” “Oh, Mark, it’s like watching meat go through a Grinder. I am sickened, and disgusted. Or I would be, if it weren’t CIA this were happening to!” “Bobby! That’s horrible! CIA stepped in, knowing the risks, but I don’t think any man prepares for something like this! Dace Night will literally destroy CIA to keep his title!” Indeed, it looks like Dace has just that plan, as he raises his weedwhacker once more. CIA rolls over and throws up his hockey stick once more to try and defend himself, but Dace turns his swing, driving the head of the grass chewing weapon into the upper left arm of CIA instead, causing more blood to fly out, this time spraying all over the face and chest of the ‘Canadian Dream’, and causing him to scream in pain once more. Feeling particularly sadistic, Dace steps forward, raising his Weedwhacker away from the wound, putting all his weight on one foot, pressing it against the arm of CIA. The Canadian squeals with pain again, but throws his upper body forward, putting even more pressure on his arm, but causing Dace to overbalance backwards. Lifting himself as quickly as possible, CIA rushes for the ring apron, sliding in under the bottom rope just as Dace regains his feet, swinging down and chopping up the curtain hanging from the ring with the weedwhacker. Following CIA in, Dace slides in just to the left of the long bloodstain left along the mat when the Canadian made his way in. Rising to his feet, he looks across the ring, both men having a weapon in hand, glaring for just a moment, and then, rushing forward, raising their weapons high, and swinging out at each other. The weapon’s meet with a crash, and a loud snap is heard, as the shaft of the weedwhacker breaks, head of the weapon spinning off the top and causing the referee to drop off his feet. Before the broken piece hits the ground, Dace has dropped the rest of the weapon, and rushes forward, Raising his foot high and driving it hard into the face of CIA! “Yakuza kick! Amazing speed and presence from Dace Night, as even being without a weapon won’t stop this hardcore warrior’s relentless onslaught! What do you think of that, Bobby?” “Eh-heh….. heh…. heh….” Looking over, Mark Steven’s eyes widen frighteningly as he sees the final resting place of the Weewdwhacker head, the broken shaft having dug itself into Riley’s chair, right between his spread legs, the wire blade still spinning, only a half foot from the ambiguous one’s face. Not even noticing this, in the Ring, Dace towers over CIA, and, quickly driving his foot down into the face of CIA as hard as he can, he points at the referee, yelling at him to count. The referee does this as Dace steps away from CIA, rummaging once more through the bag of tricks CIA has brought to the ring. ONE! . . . . . TWO! . . . . . THREE! . . . . . FOUR! . . . . . FIVE! . . . . . SIX! . . . . . SEVEN! . . . . . EIGHT! . . . NO! CIA rolls over to his stomach, and lifts himself up on his hands and knees, barely able to support his upper body as his left arm oozes blood back crisscrossed with shallow and deep gouges and cuts alike. Dace stops his searching through the hardcore bag of goodies as he hears the referee stop counting, looking to each side for a moment, but he quickly goes back into the bag, lifting a large, smooth stone out of the bag with one hand while he finally tugs a jutting piece of glass out of his forehead with the other. CIA cannot see Dace’s actions, as he slowly gets to his feet, stumbling and fighting, battle having taken so much out of him. Turning around, Dace holds the curling stone in one hand, his blood trickling down his arm onto the polished surface of the thirty-five pound foreign object. Moving towards CIA, Dace begins to lift the large stone in his hand, and the Canadian turns around, a look of horror sprouting on his features at the object in Dace’s hand. Dace steps forward a bit faster, but CIA kicks out hard, trying to catch him in the gut. Dace smiles as his free arm catches CIA’s leg, but the Canadian smiles back in turn, leaping off his foot and spinning his body, boot cracking across Dace’s skull, dropping the hardcore king to a seated position, Curling stone landing with a ‘THUD’ on the mat between his legs. CIA pushes himself to his feet once more, and begins to crawl for the ropes, only to have Dace’s hand reach out and grab hold of his ankle, trying to tug him back. CIA fights, but Dace will not let go, jerking at the limb, trying to keep CIA close, to get back on the attack. CIA cannot escape, no matter how hard he fights and pulls, and so he does the only thing he can. He kicks his other foot backwards, driving the smooth curling stone swiftly into Dace’s genitals. Dace groans and reaches down to hold himself in pain, and CIA gets to the ropes, using the elastic strands to pull himself up to his feet, VERY slowly. Night is still seated in the middle of the ring, obviously in tremendous pain, but even he seems to be recovering as he rolls over and up to one knee. “My god, Bobby, what will it take to stop these two men from absolutely decimating each other? This has been non-stop hardcore action and heavy bloodletting straight from the get go. Oh, sure, it’s not a pretty technical exhibition, but does it have to be? They’re getting hit with barbed wire, lightbulbs, even a WEEDWHACKER!” “Which those jackasses really ought to be more careful with. I mean, what would the ladies have though if that dangerous object had hit me…. Well…. You know where?” “Which ladies would those be, Bobby?” “Ummm…. George.. ina, Ben.. jamina, and…. Stewart…………. ina.” “You always have been a unique kind of ladies man, Bobby.” CIA bails out of the ring, more tumbling to the outside than gracefully making his way to the surroundings of the ring. After a second, he is back on his feet, and making his way over towards the shattered remnants of the announce table, Dace coming up onto his knees in the ring. CIA makes it over to Riley and Stevens sit, and he motions for both men to get up, grabbing hold of Steven’s chair when ‘Grand Slam’, does, in fact, rise. CIA folds up the steel seating device, and turns towards the ring, only to dive down against the ring apron, just barely avoiding the thirty five pound stone hurtling along the mat right at him, and now, over his head to collide with the guardrail behind Stevens and Riley, splintering the wood. Dace, not having seen whether he caught CIA with the sliding stone, marches over to the ropes. Stopping dead in his tracks, he sees the stone buried in the bottom of the guard wall, and he reaches to his side, grabbing a hockey helmet from inside CIA’s bag of tricks, holding it out before him. Reaching through the ropes with the cheap plastic, Dace cringes, and suddenly, Steven’s chair comes swinging up from below, cracking across the helmet and sending it spinning out of Dace’s hand. The man who made the word Horrorcore reaches out quickly, grabbing hold of the chair with his other hand, and pulls it up over the ropes, out of the grasp of CIA. Lifting the chair over his head, Dace marches forward to the ropes once again, only to be met by the upswing of CIA’s hockey stick, once more recovered from ringside. The barbed wire digs into his forehead as the stick crashes across his face, and he stumbles back, dropping the chair out of his hands to the mat, and clutching his face, blood dripping down from his forehead into his eyes, making it impossible to see. With a burst of adrenaline, and a large cheer from the crowd, CIA slides in under the bottom rope, and sees Dace stumbling about blind, right in front of the chair, which now lays across the mat. Stepping up beside Dace, CIA reaches up and hooks one of his arms in a side half-nelson, triggering another cry from the fans, as they know what’s coming next. Not hesitating for a moment, CIA grapevines Dace’s leg, and throws his body forward, dragging Dace down and causing his head to smash off the steel chair so hard both men bounce, an ugly red splatter of blood on the chair as CIA skids it away with one hand and rolls over to the ropes, leaving Night facedown in a slowly spreading pool of his own blood. “That’s it, Bobby, CIA’s big finisher, the VIA Rail, right onto that chair! Now, Dace may be hardcore, and I might have said he could get up after a ten count, even after having his lacerated skull bounce off that steel chair, but you have to consider all the other punishment he has taken this matchup! And here comes the ref to make the ten count!” ONE! . . . . . TWO! . . . . . THREE! . . . . . FOUR! . . . . . FIVE! . . . . . SIX! . . . . . SEVEN! . . . . . EIGHT! . . . . . NINE! . . . . . TE….. NO! Dace pushes himself up, both arms underneath him to lift his upper body off the mat, a look of determination on his face even as a sticky drop of blood leaks from his forehead to crash into the mat, and the referee breaks off the count, bringing a disappointed ‘Awwwwww’ from some sections of the audience, while others chant and cheer, Dace Night chants filling a large portion of the arena. CIA shakes his head in disbelief, staring down at the man pushing himself off the mat, even as Dace powers up to his knees, staring across the ring at CIA as if to dare him to bring even more, to give him something the Canadian thinks he won’t be able to fight off, so he can watch him get up, again and again. Making his way across the ring, CIA grabs hold of the steel chair once more, spinning around and bringing the seating device down on Dace’s head so hard it nearly bends in half. Amazingly, this slouches down Dace for a moment, but he does not fall, and his head snaps back up to glare into the eyes of CIA. Frightened, CIA lifts the chair high overhead once more, and Dace lashes out, cracking his elbow into CIA’s ribs. The ‘Secret Agent Man’ drops the chair behind him and clutches his ribs, so severely injured earlier in the match, doubled over in pain. The determined Dace rises to his feet, reaching down around CIA’s back, and hooking him in position for a gutwrench, which draws many cries of recognition from the crowd, knowing just what Dace is thinking. With a cry from the crowd, Dace yanks CIA into the air, spinning the Canadian’s body till it rests on top of his shoulder, hands still locked, and powers him straight down, pounding CIA headfirst onto the chair with a familiar sight to any SWF hardcore fan. “Dark Star Driver! CIA hit Dace with his big finisher, and Dace responds with his own what a sickening impact! There is no way CIA is getting up from this!” “You’re damn right, Bobby, and I think it’s a good thing. I mean, he’d be nuts to stand up after that, his neck is probably broken, and even if it’s not, he’s taken so much damage, that he oughta just quit and count his blessings. But then, you never know just how stupid a Canadian is going to be.” The fans chant along as the Referee steps into position, once more beginning to count, Dace Night stumbling back to the corner, exhausted from the effort it took to fight back with so much, settling into the corner and breathing heavily, blood, dried and fresh, caking his body, like some sort of sick warpaint. ONE! . . . . . TWO! . . . . . THREE! . . . . . FOUR! . . . . . FIVE! . . . . . SIX! . . . . . SEVEN! . . . . . EIGHT! . . . . . NINE! . . . . . TEN! NO~! CIA throws his upper body up to a sitting position just as the ref is about to finish calling out the ten, just a quarter of a second before he would have lost the match. The referee stops the count, and CIA smiles, immediately collapsing back onto his back. The Referee steps forward to begin another count, but Dace makes his way out of the corner, angrily shoving the official aside and marching over towards CIA, reaching down to pull the masked grappler up onto his feet. Dragging CIA over to the ring ropes, he tosses the ‘Dream’ right over the top rope, sending CIA flying over the apron and crashing to a flatbacked landing on the protective mats below. Marching through the second and third rope, Dace drags CIA up the entryway ramp, the Canadian stumbling after him, hair being pulled hard. When both men reach the center of the ramp, Dace drives and elbow into the face of CIA, sending him crashing face first into the steel ramp. Dropping down next to the Canadian, Dace tangles his hand in the long, now bloodstained hair of his opponent, and lifts his face away from the ramp, only to slam it back down into the unforgiving steel, once, twice, three, four, five, six, SEVEN times. By this point the fans are chanting along, and a few continue to eight even as Dace climbs up to his feet and lifts CIA once more, dragging him even more up the length of the ramp towards the stage, decorated as it is with various clocks, hourglasses, and sundials, some of them looking like they’re made out of nothing but rather thick glass. “It looks like Dace wants to not only put away CIA here tonight, but do some property damage while he’s at it, Bobby!” “Oh, no! We Told Funyon he could have the set decorations for furniture until next year!” “Furniture? Riley, that would be the most godawful, tacky…” “Have you SEEN how Funyon dresses?” “Good point.” Carrying CIA almost like one would carry a sack of grain, Dace stops a few feet from a Grandfather clock that appears to be made out of steel, and he grabs hold of the Canadian’s hair in both hands, spinning around. Amazingly, he manages to get CIA spinning up off his feet for a quarter spin, until the Canadian crashes into the clock with a loud crumpling sound, metal clock bending over halfway as the Canadian’s body is launched into it. Amazingly, Dace doesn’t wait for the count, instead grabbing CIA’a hair and jerking him up onto his feet once more. CIA stumbles as Dace pulls him further up the stage, and Dace stops, spinning around and sending his knee crashing into the face of the Canadian, never releasing his hair as he does so. CIA is dragged further along, till Dace comes up to a large Clockface positioned behind a stylized Sundial jutting up on the stage. Picking CIA up, Dace tries to drive him forward, into the glass covering the face of the clock, but CIA finally manages to do something, placing his hand on the wall and preventing the throw. Dace tries again, but again CIA’s actions deny him. Angry, dace whips CIA backwards, where the Canadian stumbles over the jutting sundial structure, flipping over it. Dace stalks forward, while CIA kneels down, jerking at a large ‘Clock Hand’ that has been made out of metal and loosely fastened to the stage. Amazingly, it Jerks free, and just in time, as the force of it’s bands breaking causes CIA to spin around, slamming the metal across the face of Dace Night, who had been silently leaning over CIA, and sending him back towards the large clockface on the wall. Dropping the metal immediately, CIA looks towards Dace, then the sundial between he and the ‘High Priest’, then at the glass clockface immediately behind Dace. Without thinking, CIA rushes forward, running up the angled length of the sundial, and he leaps forward, kicking out hard with both feet, catching Dace fully in the chest, and sending the man who made Horrorcore famous right into the large glass window, which shatters with a colossal crash, sending large shards and tiny showers of glass cascading to the stage all around both men. Rising to his feet, CIA sees Dace slowly doing the same, and stumbles back towards the center stage, waiting by the entryway. Dace rises and continues to stalk towards CIA, even with parts of his body hanging limp, with cuts, bruises and blood all over him, Dace marches inexorably forward. CIA cannot think of anything to do, till he looks up, and sees another clock, this one’s hands moving, fastened at the bottom of the Smarktron. Dace nears CIA, but the Canadian leaps as hard as he can, grabbing the large minute hand as it spins, moving past both of them, holding on as it lifts him higher up, releasing the set decoration and stepping onto the poles at the bottom of the Smarktron. “Look at that, Mark! CIA’s running scared! He knows he can’t beat Dace, so he has to do everything in his power to get away! Maybe CIA is finally realizing that the right time to give up on this match would’ve been the moment he thought of having it.” “I don’t know, Riley. CIA may need a breatherm but he always seems to have a plan. If we wait, we’ll find out just what it is.” CIA backs up against the Smarktron, but Dace will not cease in his pursuit, as the High Priest jumps and grabs hold of the spinning clock hand when it comes down into his reach again. Slowly, it lifts him up towards CIA, who looks frightened. Oddly enough, he doesn’t look at Dace, but out at the fans, and the fear IS evident on his face, for a moment. But then, it disappears, to be replaced with something that could only be called conviction. The fans gasp, And Dace’s eyes open wide as he is raised right up to the level of CIA, and the Canadian dives forward, off the Smarktron. He catches Dace in mid-flight, breaking him free of the clock hand, both men sailing straight down towards the center of the stage. Time seems to slow down, and cameras flash like crazy as both men fall, inexorably, towards their doom. A large gasp goes up as everyone in the arena rises to their feet, and suddenly, finally…. *CRASH~!~!~!* ..both men go hurtling THROUGH the stage, the trapdoor CIA usually rises up through breaking apart under their falling weight, both men disappearing into the darkness below. A cry of amazement goes up through the crowd, and the referee, halfway up the entrance ramp, freezes in place, before a massive chant breaks out. “HOLY SHIT!” “HOLY SHIT!” “HOLY SHIT!” “Holy shit! Bobby, did you just see what happened! Both men went crashing off the Smarktron, right through the METAL stage, into the depths beneath!” “I’m amazed, Mark. It was a desperate thing to do, but I guess you have to admire CIA’s guts, if not his brains. I don’t think anyone expected the stage to almost DISINTEGRATE under their fall like that, but now they’re practically buried under that stage, and who knows if there’ll even BE a last man standing.” The fans continue to chant, even as the Referee comes over next to the hole in the stage, and, after a moment of looking confused, throws his hands into the air, and begins what will undoubtedly be his final count of the match. “ONE!” . . “I have NEVER seen a fall like that, Bobby, it has got to be over!” . . TWO! . . “You’re damn right, Mark. I wish someone would get some paramedics out here, cause those two needed them before. Now they might need morticians.” . . THREE! . . “An incredible effort by both men, and I suppose it will end like this, which I guess will make Dace Night retaining champ by default.” . . FOUR! . . “It would take a miracle, Mark, for either man to win this match by anything BUT default now.” . . FIVE! . . . . . SIX! . . . . . SEVEN! . . . . . EIGHT! The fans are chanting along now, and it seems that nobody notices as a bloody hand reaches up from under the stage, grasping hold of the metal above him, as strong a grip as can be managed, and begins to strain, pulling someone up from below. . . . . NINE! Now, a great cheer goes up as some of the fans spot the TWO hands pulling up a body, the arms now slung up slightly onto the ramp, one man pulling himself out of the depths of hell in an attempt to beat the count, and be the Hardcore Gamer’s Champion. . . . . . TEN!!!!! *DING DING DING!* The ref turns in amazement towards CIA, who has pulled his upper body through the hole in the stage, and he stares for just a moment, as Funyon rushes up the ramp from Ringside, both of Dace’s hardcore titles in one hand, the microphone in the other. CIA manages to heft himself onto the stage, collapsing with exhaustion and blood loss, his body looking like he’s been in a train wreck. Funyon marches over to the Referee, handing the official both belts, and turning away to face the crowd with his microphone, as the ref leans down and takes one of CIA’s hands, apparently checking on the Canadian. “Ladies and gentlemen, The winner of this match, the last man standing, and your NEW Hardcore Gamer’s Champion of the SWF, Canadian Intelligence Agent, C! I! A!” An explosive cheer goes up at this as the referee pulls CIA to a kneeling position, holding one arm up in the air as far as it will go. CIA reaches up with his free hand, and the referee hands him both of the Hardcore belts. CIA smiles, staring disbelievingly at the gold in his hand, slinging the classic hardcore title around his waist and doing it up, carefully. Looking up at Funyon, he waves the announcer over, and indicates the hole in the stage even as his entrance music begins to play. Funyon nods, and both men kneel down, reaching into the hole, and taking hold of something. Pulling with all their might, they lift a barely conscious Dace Night out of the hole, and up onto the stage, probably unaware where he is. Both he and CIA collapse, and Funyon checks on both of them, before handing his microphone to CIA and signaling for the music to come to a stop. The fans are puzzled, but CIA pulls himself up to his feet, looking down at Dace. “Get up.” Dace looks up at CIA, and the Canadian nods extending his hand to Dace. The former champ takes the hand of the new one, and they both strain till Dace Night stands before CIA. With as much of a smile as he can manage, CIA reaches out with Dace’s custom hardcore belt, waiting for Dace to take it from his grasp. “I did it, somehow, but you’ll always be a hardcore champion to these people. Take back your belt, eh. You’ve earned it.” Reaching out, Dace takes the belt from CIA, strapping it around his waist, slowly, till both men are adorned with gold. Turning towards the audience, CIA waves over the ref, who steps between him and Dace, and raising both men’s hands. ‘Justifiable Homicide’ bursts from the arena speakers, and the fans let out another cheer, on their feet, for both men, neither of whom looks like he should be standing. “Amazing, Bobby. Both these men gave their hearts, and more importantly, their helth, for the fans, and they know it. Just listen to this ovation, for two hardcore champions, side by side.” “But when it comes to the record books, this will always be Dace losing to that Silly Canadian in what should have easily been his match. I’m ashamed of Dace.” “I don’t know how you could be ashamed of either of these men, who just gave us a main event worthy matchup, and nearly killed themselves for our entertainment. Nevertheless, we’re not finished yet.” “That’s right, Mark. Right after we clean up all the blood and weapons scattered around here, we’ll be bringing you an ICTV title match between Danny Williams and the Wildchild, which should be a tremendous match.” “Not to mention TNT versus Tod DeKindes, facing off in ANOTHER no DQ match, wherein the loser will RETIRE from the SWF. I can’t wait to see all the action in this one, even if it will be a shame to see either man go, Bobby.” “Indeed it will Mark. And then, after all of that, we still have our VERY exciting Main event, as Tom Flesher takes on The Boston Strangler for the World’s Heavyweight Title.” “That’s right, Bobby. But for a few minutes, this show, this crowd, belonged to Dace Night, and to CIA, our brand new Hardcore Gamer’s champion.” “Yes, and kudos to them both. Now, let’s take a look at what’s led up to our next matchup, right now..” The screen cuts away to a Video package for Wildchild versus Danny Williams, after focusing for one last moment on an image of CIA and Dace, belts strapped around both their waists, hands held high on the stage. Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Guest Suicide King Report post Posted June 24, 2003 Packed shoulder to shoulder, the SWF’s Canadian fan base is exhausted from a night of cheering, drinking, and wild wrestling action. Despite running low on gas, a buzz can still be felt throughout the arena, the sense that next couple of matches are gonna be really special. Stevens: Fans, this has truly been one hell of a night! Riley: You said it man, I think the government is gonna step in and start regulating us after that hellish Kibagami/Janus match. Stevens: You might be right, Riley. But right it’s time for the ICTV Title Bout, pitting Danny Williams against a man of many names, one of which is the Wildchild. "The Everlasting Gaze," by Smashing Pumpkins kicks in, triggering a loud, very loud, positive response from the crowd. Banging his head in time with his music, Wildchild comes springing out from behind the ring curtain like he’s Batman or something. Funyon: Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is scheduled for one fall, and is for the SWF ICTV Championship! Introducing first, weighing in at 217 pounds, hailing from the Bahamas....................THE WIIIIIIIIIIIIILDCHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIILD!!! Running down the aisle like a mad man, Wildchild smacks hands with the fans lucky enough to get close seats. The Wild One somersaults into the ring, and starts running the ropes, posing for the fans and doing other sorts of high energy activities that would lead one to suspect that he’s hopped up on amphetamines. Stevens: More of a tag team specialist, Wildchild has been giving the opportunity of a life time tonight, an opportunity at the second most coveted title in the entire fed, and a chance to prove himself as a worthly singles competitor. Riley: Some, myself included, might question Wildchild’s credibility as an ICTV title contender. Sure, he’s coming off a big win against Janus, but with the exception of Jay Dawg he hasn’t beating any established stars. Stevens: The shoulder of course is a huge question mark for Wildchild, which was injured by Janus in a brutal No D.Q. match last Lockdown. But still, overcoming the odds is Wildchild’s speciality, and with his unorthodox high flying style, he stands a good chance of taking home the title. Bill Corgan fades way, and is soon replaced by the gentle melodies of In Flame’s “Jester Dance”. To the roar of the fans, Danny Williams steps out on to the platform, the ICTV title sparkling around his waist. Funyon: And his opponent, the champion, weighing in at 243 pounds, he hails from Louisville, Kentucky..............HE IS THE SWF ICTV CHAMPION..............DANNY WILLIAMSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!!! Eerily calm as always, Williams confidently walks down the aisle in route to the squared circle. Danny unbuckles his belt, and with hesitation, hands over to the outside official, before using the stairs to properly enter the ring. Stevens: Williams is coming of a string of successful title defenses against the likes of Janus and Beezel, but much like Wildchild, he’s been more focused on winning the tag titles as of late. Riley: If you ask me, he should stick to defending the ICTV title, because there’s no way in hell that him and his green partner are gonna take the titles from Justice and Rule anytime soon. Stevens: Of course Danny took this match on short notice, having dropped the ball if you will against Frost and Pete, so this match was thrown together at the last minute. This lack of prepartion means that there's very good chance that he isn’t total ready to do battle with an athlete the caliber of Wildchild. Still as a statue, Williams waits in his corner, while in the opposite corner, Wildchild is hopping and down like a hyperactive five year old. Seeing as how both men are ready in their corners, and Funyon is at a minimum safe distance, Soapdish calls for the bell..... DING! DING! DING! The crowd is clearly behind the underdog, chanting “WILD-CHID!” from the get go. Subdued as always, Williams leisurely makes his way to the center of the ring, while the Bahama Bomber comes bouncing out of his corner like a little ball of energy. The circling commences, and a collar elbow tie up follows. Wildchild struggles with all his might, but he cannot prevent Danny from grabbing a side headlock. Stevens: As one might expect, Williams takes control of the grapple. Riley: Hell, I didn’t know Wildchild even knew how to perform a collar elbow tie up. Not wanting to spin another second in the hold, Wildchild runs Danny into the ropes, and shoots him off! Danny bullets across the ring, rebounding off the ropes, while The Bahama Bomber sprints into position in the center of the ring.... BOOOOOM! only to get knocked on his ass, courtesy of a foot ball tackle that would make John Madden flinch! Stevens: Good god, what impact! Riley: He knocked him out of his boot-sandals with that one! Hoping to catch Wildchild as he vulnerably climbs to his feet, Williams drops back into a corner, and waits. The Bahama Bomber peels himself off the mat like a cartoon character, and stumbles back to his feet,.... BOOOOOM! but Danny flattens him with another foot ball tackle! Wildchild hits the mat so hard, that the momentum actually rolls him all through on to his stomach drawing a few flinches from the more squeamish members of the audience! Riley: Too bad Danny Williams’ didn’t play football in college, because he would have made one hell of a linebacker! Stevens: Wildchild prefers to fly around the ring like a ping pong ball, not get knocked around the ring like a ping pong ball. If he can’t utilize his speed advantage and avoid Danny’s power moves than this going to be a very short match. Still showing no emotion, Danny nonchalantly drags Wildchild to his feet, grabs a front facelock, and slings his inside arm over his shoulder. As if Wildchild was filled with helium, Danny effortlessly hoists him up by his tights,.... Stevens: Vertical Suplex coming up! but before Williams can drop back, the Bahama Bomber floats out of his clutches, landing safely on his feet. By the time Danny spins around, Wildchild has already ran into the ropes, and picked up a full head of steam! THWACK! The crowd roars as Wildchild decapitates Danny with an acrobatic Leg Lariat! Without a second to lose, Wildchild hurries to his feet, and sprints towards the ropes! A bit dazed, Williams struggles to get back on his feet, but he’s too late as Wildchild comes rebounding back at him, pancaking him into the mat with a surprise lateral press! Stevens: Cross Body Block, Wildchild is just too damn quick for Williams! Instead of staying on top of Danny for the pin, Wildchild rolls off of him, and with the aid of the ropes, propels himself on the top turnbuckle to the astonishment of the crowd! Riley: Only Wildchild would be stupid enough to pass up a pin attempt in favor of taking a high risk. Confused and off balance from Wildchild’s air raids, Danny staggers to his feet, having no clue as to where the little guy is. Wildchild waits for Danny to turn towards him, and than somersaults off at him..... SMAAACK! plunging his boots into the ICTV Champion’s chest with a Front Dropkick that leaves the crowd in awe struck! Stevens: SHOOTING STAR DROPKICK! I guess passing up on the pin wasn’t so stupid after all, eh Riley? Riley: Ah, he’s lucky he’s in there with a neanderthal like Danny Williams, because he wouldn’t be able to hit a crazy move like that against a smart wrestle like Tom Flesher this early in the match. Wildchild returns to his feet with an athletic kip up, and the crowd snaps out of their trance with a standing ovation. Feeling like he got hit in the chest with a sledge hammer, Danny sluggishly rolls out of the ring in hopes of regrouping. Riley: What a wasted move, if Wildchild didn’t bother to show off, he might have gotten the three, and we can move on to the Main Event. Stevens: It sounds to me like somebody is a little nervous about tonight’s World Title match. Riley: Of course not, I’m just anxious to see some quality wrestling, because this match certainly isn’t providing any. Not giving Danny a break, Wildchild marches over to the edge of the ring, grabs hold of the top rope, and squats low to the mat. To the delight of the crowd, Wildchild springboards over the top rope, and spirals down on top of Danny, crushing him with a flying body press! Stevens: CORKSCREW PLANCHA! Finally starting to show visible signs of fatigue, Wildchild is a little slow to his feet this time, taking only a couple of seconds instead of a millisecond to get up. Wildchild immediately grabs Danny’s wrist, jerks him to his feet, and whips him towards the guardrail, but Danny hangs on to his arm for the reversal! CLANK! Wildchild painfully crashes into the guardrail, but to Danny’s surprise, the challenger ricochets right back at him! Wildchid gains some speed, and takes flight.... CRACK! busting Danny’s face with a Flying Forearm! Both men are down, and the hot crowd give a rousing ovation. Stevens: Wildchild, refusing to give up control of the match despite taking a nasty bump into the solid steel barrier that surrounds the ring. We’ve seen Williams do this on many occasions, when he was out matched by his opponent. Riley: Wildchild is a house of fire tonight, and Danny is gonna have to do something desperate to extinguish him, perhaps attack his shoulder injury. Wiping some sweat off his brow, Wildchild climbs up on the apron, and attempts to re-enter the ring, when Danny pops up and grabs hold of his boots! Williams tries to yank Wildchild down, but in his weakened state, he can’t seem to accomplish that goal, so the Bahama Bomber just turns around, and kicks him off! CLANK! Danny blows back into the protective barrier, creating some space between him and the Bahama Bomber, which gives the challenger an idea. Without taking twice, Wildchild leaps up on the second rope, and bravely back flips off,.... CLANK! crushing Danny into the guardrail with a beautiful Moonsault! Stevens: ASIA MOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONSAULT! Wildchild lands on his feet in the front roll, taking the time to slap hands with a few kids before hoping over the guardrail, and continuing the match. Staring into space, Danny slides to the floor, holding his ribs like he just took Chuck Norris’ death touch from Missing in Action 2. The crowd is going bonkers, loudly chanting “WILD-CHILD!” over and over again. Stevens: The Bahama Bomber is living up to his name, tonight. He has done nothing but throw bomb after bomb at Danny Williams, overwhelming the ICTV Champion with his superior speed and athleticism. Riley: The Wildchild is indeed doing what he should be, and that’s pulling out all the stops. If he wants to keep his title, Danny is gonna have to pull out all the stops as well, and by that I mean attack the damn shoulder! Stevens: I don’t think he could do that right if he wanted to, Riley, the Bahama Bomber has total control of the match. Looking a little winded and sore himself, Wildchild drags Williams up by his tights, and rolls him into the ring. Instead of following him in, Wildchild leaps up on to the ring apron, and wipes his sweaty hands off on his tights, before clamping them down on the top rope. Once his target is on it’s feet, Wildchild leaps on to the top rope, and launches himself at the ICTV Champion! Stevens: SPRINGBOARD DROPKICK! But Williams sees him coming, and dives out of the way! THUMP! Wildchild belly flops on the mat, while Williams drifts back into the ropes, trying to gather his senses before his opponent can get up. Stevens: It seems that Wildchild took one risk too many, but will it be enough for Williams to capitalize? Riley: As long as he doesn’t take the opportunity to pose or do a kip up, he should be alright. Grimacing with every breath, Wildchild scrambles to his feet, but Danny springs off the ropes, ducking behind him, and grabbing a Sleeperhold! In hopes of speeding up the process, Williams starts violently jerking Wildchild’s head back and forth, working the hold like a mad man! Stevens: Williams, wisely using a Sleeperhold to extinguish Wildchild’s fire, and slow down the tempo of the match. The effects of the Sleeper hit like a powerful tranquilizer, causing Wildchild’s legs to give out, dropping him to his knees. A bit exhausted themselves, the crowd quiets down considerably, though they are far from silent. Walking on his knees, Wildchild makes the ropes, prompting Soapdish to order the break. Not giving up his edge so easily, Williams rips Wildchild off the ropes, and drags him back to the center of the ring by his head. Wrapping his legs around Wildchild’s body, Danny pulls him down to the mat, securing him in the Sleeper with a body scissors. Stevens: DOUSHIME SLEEPER, this could be enough to put the challenger away! Riley: Dammit, I’m telling you Danny should attack the shoulder while he’s got a chance! Stevens: If Danny’s successfully defends his title tonight, I don’t think he wants an asterisk next to his victory. He doesn’t want to beat Wildchild because he’s injured, he wants to beat him because he’s better than him. Riley: You know that ethical stance an’t gonna hold, I guarantee you that by the end of the match, Danny is gonna snap and go after Wildchild’s shoulder. His swollen biceps twitching with strain, Danny squeezes Wildchild’s head with all his might, cutting off the blood circulation to his brain. Seeing as how the brain needs blood to operate, Wildchild’s body starts to shut down, and he starts to become very sleepy. Coming back to life, the crowd starts to chant... “LET’S GO WILDCHILD! LET’S GO!” clap! clap! clap!clap!clap! Knowing full and well that he doesn’t have much time left, Wildchild frantically rolls for the ropes, carrying Danny along for the ride! It takes him a while, longer than he though it would, but Wildchild makes it within arm’s reach of the ropes! Still refusing to admit defeat, Danny rolls away from the ropes, turning Wildchild away from them in the process! Stevens: Danny is doing an admirable job of keeping Wildchild off the ropes, breaking his spirit every time he gets the slightest glimpse of hope! Not giving up after coming so close, Wildchild digs deep, summoning every remaining ounce of energy in his body that hasn’t been drained, and with a strain effort rolls back towards the ropes. Wildchild stretches out his arm as far as possible, barely securing his hand around the bottom rope. “Break!”, commands the official. Williams unwraps his tired arms from around Wildchild’s head, pulls his leg out from underneath him, and returns to his feet with a snarl. Exhausted from his battle of wills, Wildchild lies on his side, drained and incoherent. Clearly frustrated, Danny viciously slams the toe of his boot into Wildchild’s back with some cringe inducing punts! SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! After Danny’s mean spirited attack a few scattered “boos” can be detected through the arena. Riley: Now that is what Danny Williams is gonna have to do if he wants to hold on to the title, tap into his dark side if you will. Having whelped Wildchild’s back, Danny steps out on to the ring apron, leans over the ropes, and drags the weary challenger up by his braids. Williams sets Wildchild up for the Vertical Suplex, prompting the fans rise out of their chairs in anticipation for the high spot that cometh. Stevens: DANNY, PREPARING TO SUPLEX WILDCHILD OUT OF THE RING! Before anybody can even take in to what is about to happen, Williams dips his knees, and lifts.... Riley: HE’S REALLY GONNA DO IT! but Wildchild desperately clings to the ropes nearly giving the fans a coronary! Going nowhere, Williams releases Wildchild, holds his head over the top rope, and starts hammering his elbow down into the back of his neck! After pounding Wildchild’s neck into oblivion, Danny quickly repositions him for the Suplex, and hoists him over the ropes.... Stevens: DANNY’S GOT HIM UP! Careful to maintain his balance on the apron, Williams twists around, throwing the Bahama Bomber over his shoulder! THUMP! Wildchilds splats on the arena floor below, while the crowd lets out a horrified gasp! Williams steps back into the squared circle, and wastes no time in jogging to the opposite side of it. Holding his back and grimacing, Wildchild stiffly stands up...... CRAAAAAAAAAACK! only to get his jaw busted by a crowd pleasing... Stevens: ELBOW SUICIDAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH! Wildchild blows back into the guardrail, and flops face down, while Danny safely lands on his feet like a cat. The nuttiness over, the satisfied fans find their seats again. Williams doesn’t give Wildchild a break, immediately jerking him up, and sliding him back into the ring for some more abuse. Riley: Not smart at all, Danny should have left Wildchild out there, and let him get counted out. Stevens: Judging by the way Wildchild has been coming at him all night, I think Williams knows that there is no way he can keep him out of the ring for the ten seconds. Danny climbs up on to the ring apron, but instead of stepping in, he jogs to the nearest ring post, and ascends the turnbuckles. Stevens: Williams, looking to take flight once again. I think Danny’s ariel offense is quite underrated, despite hovering around 250 these days, he can still fly with the best of them. Riley: Yeah, he flies alright for a fat man. The fans watch on in amazement as Danny dives head first off the top rope, slamming his forearm into Wildchild’s jaw on the way down! CRACK! The momentum sends Wildchild tumbling to the mat, folding his legs over his head! Stevens: DIVING ELBOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOW!!! Williams swiftly crawls over on top of Wildchild, leaning over the challenger for the pin attempt! Riley: HE MAY HAVE HIM! ONE! TWO! NO, Wildchild forcefully kicks out, getting a rather large pop from the crowd! Williams snaps his head up in surprise, not expecting the little guy to have so much fighting spirit left. With a deep sigh, Williams wipes some sweat out of his eyes, grabs Wildchild’s boot, tucks it under his arm pit, and turns him over into the Half Crab. Stevens: Sensing Wildchild isn’t ready to take out yet, Williams wisely slows the pace down yet again, hoping to further wear down his fiery challenger. Riley: I’d say Williams is just looking for a rest, he probably wore himself out with all that running down he was doing a few seconds ago. Williams pulls so far back on Wildchild’s leg, you think the bastard was trying to touch the back of his head with his own boot, which he could if it wasn’t for the fact that Danny was already standing one of his boots on the back of Wildchild’s head. On cue, the fans start chanting again... “WILD-CHILD! WILD-CHILD! WILD-CHILD!” Inspired by his fans, or maybe just by the human instinct to escape painful situation, Wildchild starts clawing his way towards the ropes. Williams tries to keep Wildchild in the center of the ring, but the challenger won’t be denied, making the ropes in no time at all. Stevens: Even on defense, Wildchild keeps the heat on Williams, escaping a hold as fast as possible so as not to give the champion a chance to catch his breath. Riley: Now that’s a stretch if I ever heard one, Wildchild escaped the hold as fast as he could because it hurt. Disappointed that his break wasn’t no where near as long as he hoped it would be, Williams throws Wildchild’s leg down in disgust, and pulls him up by his hair. CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! Williams rattles Wildchild’s brain with some stiff elbow smashes, and jerks him off the ropes with an Irish whip! Expecting to catch Wildchild on his return run, Danny jumps into position in the center of the ring. Instead of bouncing off the ropes like Danny and everyone else in the arena expects, the gymnastic challenger leaps up on the top rope, and springs back at the shocked champion! In mid air, Wildchild curls himself up into a ball, and crashes into Danny’s chest like a cannon ball! Stevens: PINBAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAALL! WILDCHILD TRULY CAN DO THINGS THAT NO ONE ELSE CAN DO! The fans spring out of their chairs, giving Wildchild a much deserved standing ovation! Riley: Wildchild does seem to get that extra spin that most wrestlers and even some gymnast can’t seem to find, but in the end does it really make the move hurt all that more? Stevens: In order to get that extra spin, you have to get more air, and when you get more air, there’s more impact so I would have to say: yes, it does make the move hurt more. Wildchild takes a couple of seconds to collect himself before springing back to his feet. Feeling that his time is now, Wildchild scoops Danny up, and slams him near a corner! BOOM! Wildchild skips over Danny, and runs up the turnbuckles, sending the crowd into a frenzy! Stevens: HE’S GONNA TRY THE FALLING STAR PRESS! Before Wildchild can reach the top rope, Danny hops up, and starts slamming forearms into his back! The heavy blows freeze Wildchild on the second rope, allowing Danny to grab him by his tights, and yank him down like a curtain! THUMP! Disappointed, the fans quiet down, and find their seats, while Williams wipes his brow as if to say, “close call”. Riley: To say Wildchild was trying his finisher a little too early would be a huge understatement. Stevens: The Falling Star Press has brought Wildchild most of his singles success in the SWF, giving him a huge win over Janus a while back, so it doesn’t come as much of a surprise that he’s gonna be attempting to hit Danny with it at all costs. Danny rests with his hands on his knees before helping Wildchild to a vertical base... Smack! when Wildchild catches him in the knee with a stiff kick! The sudden surge of pain, locks Williams’ leg up, making him helpless as Wildchild runs into the ropes, and comes speeding back.... CRACK! blasting Danny’s jaw with a hard Elbow Smash! Stevens: RUNNING ELBOOOOOOOOOOOW! Williams blows back into the ropes, but instead of going down, he comes steam rolling forward..... CRAAAAACK! dropping Wildchild with a brutal Running Elbow of his own! Riley: NOW THAT’S A RUNNING ELBOW! Collapsing to his hands and knees, Williams fights off the effects of Wildchld’s elbow, and crawls over on top of him for the pin! Stevens: AND IT LOOKS LIKE DANNY WILLIAMS IS GONNA RETAIN THE TITLE WITH THE SAME MOVE THAT WON IT FOR HIM! The fans are on their feet, counting along with Soapdish! “ONE!” “TWO!” ........... “THREE!” NO, Wildchild shoots a shoulder up, and the crowd goes wild! Williams sits up on his knee, and brings his hand to chin as if to say,”Hmmmmm, I wasn’t expecting that.” Riley: This is the most resilience I’ve ever seen from Wildchild, normally a snap mares enough to keep him down. Stevens: This match is a once in a lift time opportunity for Wildchild to prove himself against one of the best in the fed, so he’s gonna give it his all, and prove himself as a singles wrestler. Moving on to plan B, Williams hurries to his feet, and steps out on to the ring apron. In a familiar scene, the pumped up fans once again find themselves out of their chairs and on their feet as Danny perches on the top rope like a bird of prey. Wildchild causelessly wobbles to his feet, unaware of the impending danger swooping down behind him... CRAAAACK! Danny drives his forearm into the back of Wildchild’s neck, sending the challenger tumbling to the mat! Stevens: DIVING ENZUI ELBOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOW! Riley: HE MIGHT HAVE BROKEN WILDCHILD’S NECK! Williams frantically hooks Wildchild’s legs for the pin! “ONE!” “TWO!” ........ “THREE!” Wildchild wiggles his shoulder up! The arena rumbles with the sound of distant thunder as the fans stomp their feet in celebration! Dripping with sweat and looking spent, Williams rolls over on his back, his stomach pumping in and out. Stevens: And frustration has to be setting in for the Champion, who can’t seem to find a move that will put Wildchild down for the three. Riley: That’s his problem, he’s looking for the pin. Wildchild’s shoulder has got be hanging by a thread, but he won’t go for the damn submission! Knowing full and well that he has to keep going, Danny forces himself to stand up. Through playing around, Williams drags Wildchild up by his arm, slings it over his neck like a towel, links his hands around his waist, and hoists him on his shoulder for the.... Stevens: BACK DROP DRIVER! Williams prepares to bridge back, but Wildchild rolls through on to his feet! Before Williams can react, Wildchild hooks his arm between Danny’s leg, and rolls him up for the pin! Stevens: NO, SCHOOL BOY! Riley: WILL WE SEE THE UPSET? Caught off guard, Soapdish flops on the mat, and starts the count! “ONE!” “TWO!” Danny kicks out, looking very unnerved. The ICTV Champion stomps his way over to Wildchild who still hasn’t gotten up yet. Williams leans down to pull Wildchild up, but the challenger grabs a front facelock and rolls him up with a surprise Inside Cradle! Stevens: SMALL PACKAGE, CAN HE HOLD IT? “ONE!” “TWO!” Williams kicks out and rushes to his feet, but Wildchild is already up! As if his boots were spring loaded, The Bahama Bomber leaps up on Danny’s shoulders, and flips back, taking him over! Stevens: FRANKENSTEINAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH! Wildchild hooks both of Danny’s legs, tightly securing him for the pin! Riley: I THINK HE MAY HAVE HIM THIS TIME! “ONE!” “TWO!” ........... “TH-Ooooooooooh!”, moans the crowd as Williams kicks out! Stevens: SO CLOSE, SO VERY, VERY CLOSE! Riley: Wildchild appears to be under the influence of the “the more I cover him the better my chances of pinning him” strategy. Stevens: He’s doing more than that, Riley. He’s speeding up the tempo, leaving Williams with no choice but to either keep up or fall behind and lose. Dizzy and discombobulated, Williams lingers to his feet..... CRAAAACK! only to get his jaw shattered by a hard Superkick that sends him stumbling into a corner! Stevens: THE CHAMPION'S HURT! Wildchild takes Williams’ by the wrist, and with a cry of effort, whips him out of the corner with authority! Wildchild trails Williams at a safe distance as they reach their destination in the cross corner! BOOM! Danny collides with the turnbuckles, and Wildchild takes flight, gracefully spinning through the air at him... BOOOOOOOOOM! squashing the ICTV Champion with the Stinger Splash! Stevens: THE BLUE CRUSH!!! Riley: Damn, I'll have to re watch this in slow mode to see all that I'm missing. All I'm seeing is a little blur, flying around the ring. Stevens: Your missing a hell of match, Riley! Before Danny can inevitably go down, Wildchild strenuously scoops him up, and slams him into position! Stevens: HE’S GOT DANNY IN POSITION FOR THE FALLING STAR PRESS! The crowd is electric as Wildchild turns around, and jumps up on to the top rope! Camera flashes sporadically go off as Wildchild boldly back flips off the top rope... Stevens: FALLING STAR-NO MOONSAULT! pulverizing Danny with a body press! Riley: What happened, did he chicken out or something? Stevens: No, I think he just useing the Moonsault as set up for the Falling Star Press, making sure that Williams is gonna stay down when he drops the big bomb. Riley: Ah, kind of like a test run. Rather than go for the pin, Wildchild jolts back to his feet, steps over Danny, and shoots up the turnbuckles once more! Stevens: HERE IT COMES! Up top, Wildchild lets out a primal roar before he bravely leaping backwards off the turnbuckle! In a remarkable display of athleticism, Wildchild performs a dazzling 450 degree spin, before landing horizontally across Danny’s chest! Stevens: HE HIT IT! HE HIT IT! WILDCHILD HIT THE FALLING STAR PRESS!!! Riley: UNBELIEVABLE, WE HAVE A CHAMPION! With a deafening pop, the arena turns into a mad house as Soapdish starts the count! “ONE!” “TWO!” .......... “THREE!” Stevens: HE DID IT! NEW CHAMPION! NEW CHAMPION! But Soapdish halts the count, citing that Williams has draped his boot across the bottom rope! Riley: Too close to the ropes! Feeling Wildchild’s pain, the crowd lets out a long, collective sigh. Refusing to accept this, Wildchild hooks the leg in question for another pin attempt! Once again the hopefuls in attendance count along, though with less energy this time! “ONE!” “TWO!” ........ “THREE!” Williams shoots his shoulder up to the dismay of Wildchild and the entire crowd! Riley: Nope, he an’t gonna get him that way. He needs to move on to plan B, assuming he has a plan B. Stevens: What a heartbreaker, Wildchild has been looking for the Falling Star Pres all night, and when he finally lands it, a small miscalculation was all it took for Danny to survive. Drenched in sweat, and looking total drained, Wildchild rolls over on his back, breathing long and hard. Riley: Wildchild's adrenaline rush is running out, and fatigue is starting to set in. Stevens: Wildchild committed every last inch of his strength to the that last run, and now that’s it’s failed, I don’t know what else he can possibly do. Several moments pass, and Wildchild still can’t find the energy to stand up. Growing restless, the crowd start to encourage Wildchid with a powerful chant... “WILD-CHILD! WILD-CHILD! WILD-CHILD!” Not one to disappoint his fans, Wildchild sluggishly climbs to his feet, earning a brief ovation. Moving at a snail’s pace, Wildchild slithers his way out on to the ring apron, and ascends the turnbuckles! Too excited to sit, the fans rise to their feet, anxious to see what Wildchild has in mind. Stevens: IT LOOKS LIKE HE’S GOT ONE MORE MOVE LEFT IN HIM! Looking completely out of it, Williams wobbles to his feet, teetering as if the slightest breeze can blow him down. With his arms stretched to his sides in the Christ pose, Wildhild dives off the top rope, performing a masterful corkscrew! Stevens: ANDROS DROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOP!!! Wildchild flattens Danny with a body press, but the ICTV Champion shockingly rolls through, ending up on top of the challenger! A pin no longer on his mind, Williams grabs Wildchild’s left arm, and drops back, straightening it out with a Cross Armbreaker! Stevens: JUJI-GATAME! JUJI-GATAME!!! Riley: HE’S GOT IT ON THE BAD SHOULDER, TOO! Wildchild thrashes about in anguish, screaming, trying to block out the unbearable pain in his arm and shoulder! The crowd is now giving a constant pop, sensing that Wildchild’s number is up! Digging his sandals into the mat, Wildchild attempts to push his way to the ropes, but it’s a long way to travel in such excruciating pain. Unable to hold out any longer, the Bahama Bomber reluctantly starts tapping on the mat! DING! DING! DING! The crowd gives a mixed reaction at the sound of the final bell, some “boo”, while others wildly cheer. Stevens: IT’S OVER, DANNY WILLIAMS HAS RETAINED THE TITLE! Riley: WHAT DID I TELL YOU, STEVENS! I TOLD YOU DANNY WOULD ATTACK THE SHOULDER, HE JUST COULDN’T RESIST! Williams releases Wildchild’s arm, and painfully climbs up to one knee, his head hung down as if he’s ashamed of what he did. Soaked from head to toe in sweat, Wildchild sits up with a look of disillusionment on his face. Fuynon attempts to raise Danny’s hand to make the win official, but Williams refuses to cooperate, immediately jerking it down once Soapdish pulls it up. Funyon: The winner of the match at 15 minutes and 22 seconds as a result of a submission.......AND STILL SWF ICTV CHAMPIOOOOOOOOOOON.........DANNY WILLIAMS!!! Instead of celebrating Williams marches over to Wildchild, who is now on his feet and nursing his sore shoulder. Williams inaudibly mutters out a sincere looking apology, and holds out his hand. Riley: Bah, Danny doesn’t have a damn thing to feel sorry about. Wildchild had a weakness, and Danny exploited it, that’s just the rules of the game. After thinking about it, Wildchild accepts Danny’s hand shake and the crowd goes ballistic. Williams raises Wildchild’s hand in victory, resulting in a thunderous standing ovation. Stevens: Williams didn’t want to attack Wildchild’s injury, but in the end, I don’t think he had a choice. Wildchild’s attack was relentless, and Danny just couldn’t keep up, he had to do something to kill his momentum, and attacking the shoulder not only did that, but it won him the match. Riley: Now if only Williams would have done it sooner like I said, he could have saved us all a lot of time. Oh well, on to the Main Event. Stevens: But we still have the TNT and Tod retirement match. Riley: Fuck! Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Guest Suicide King Report post Posted June 24, 2003 Stevens: Bobby, what are you doing? The camera sweeps the arena, as Funyon stands alone in the ring, waiting for his cue, and as the rabid crowd gets ready for the upcoming match. Meanwhile, Bobby Riley is putting up a "GOOD BYE, TNT" banner up in front of the announce table. Stevens: "Good bye, TNT" ?! Get that crap off of there!! Riley yells at him off-mic and slaps his partner on the wrist, preventing Grand Slam from unhooking said banner. Stevens: Well … Nevertheless, folks, it is time. Weeks of buildup have led to this, a career ending match for either Taylor Nicholas Thompson or Tod deKindes. While my esteemed partner seems to think this is already a foregone conclusion, we all know that neither men are ready to retire just yet. With more, here's Ben Hardy. … Ben: All right folks, we've had an outstanding show tonight and we still got two left to go; notably the retirement match. The SWF is too big for both TNT and Tod deKindes, and tonight, one of 'em has to go. With me now, Taylor Nicholas Thompson (who's slowly stepping into view, next to the interviewer). Taylor, this is it, what could possibly be the biggest match of your career, what could be the LAST match of your career, I know there must be a thousand thoughts going through your head but right now, how do you feel? TNT: (cool, calm and collected) … Yeah, last match. It's almost scary when you think about it. All the accomplishments, all the wins, all the titles … gone in just three seconds … I've made a livelyhood out of this, Ben. And now, (spewing out the words as if it were poison) "Tod deKindes" wants to take it all away from me?? … I'm the longest ever reigning SJL Television champion. And "Tod deKindes" wants to take that away from me! … I've beaten, destroyed, and humiliated anyone who's ever gotten in my way … "Tod deKindes" wants to take that away from me! … When no one expected it, I won the World Heavyweight title and I EARNED the respect of all these people out there … But "Tod - deKindes" wants to take that away from me!! But now … it's all led up to this. He tried to take me out. But I'm here. He thinks this match is a foregone conclusion. But it's not. As long as I breathe … "Tod deKindes" will NEVER … be able to kill me. Ben: (slowly easing the mic back towards himself) … Strong words from the former world champ. Let's toss it over to Kevin Cole, who's with the opposition. … Cole: All right, I'm here with Tod deKindes. Tod, you've just heard what TNT had to say. Your reactions. Tod: I'll never be able to kill him, huh? Well, that's all right! That means I'll TOTALLY be able to BEAT on him and BEAT on him some more until I'm just about ready to plotz!! Yeah. It's come to this, Kevin Cole. I am SICK and TIRED of even LOOKING at TNT's face whenever I get to an arena! That guy has been like a goddamn ULCER throughout all my career and I for one am SICK OF IT!! … So this is where we are now. 13th Hour. The grand stage where I will FINALLY get rid of that one black cloud that's been hovering over me … I've been waiting so long for this. I am NOT going to be denied. Tonight, this bomb goes DUD for good. Tonight, this fuse gets snuffed permanently. Tonight, I'm SO gonna watch Taylor Nicholas Thompson explode RIGHT into retirement, THANK YOU ……… very much. Cole: (as Tod storms off) There you have it, Career Match, coming up! … Back to the ring area, as the bell slowly chimes three times repetitively. Funyon stands in the center of the ring and speaks. Funyon: Ladies and gentlemen, 13th Hour continues with the following contest. It is an anything goes, No Disqualification Career Match, where the loser will be forced to hang up the tights and RETIRE from the world of professional wrestling! And now, introducing first … The lights go out, only to be quickly replaced by a series of strobe lights that show the Smarktron. We see a clear sky, quickly filling up with dark clouds as the chilling sounds of Carmina Burana's "O Fortuna" gloomily fill up the arena speakers. A loud thunderbolt crashes the classical piece to a halt … "Thump thump, HEY!!" "Thump thump, HEY!!" "Thump thump, HEY!!" "Thump thump, HEY!!" "Thump thump, HEY!!" "Thump thump, HEY!!" "Thump thump, HEY!!" "Thump thump, HEY!!" … Making way for Marilyn Manson's "Antichrist Superstar" to blast its way through from the speakers. Funyon: Hailing from Toronto, Ontario, Canada. He weighs in at 225 lbs … Tod - deeeeeeeeeeee - Kin - deeeeeeeeeeeeesssss !! As various spotlights scour the arena, we can catch a glimpse of the trench coat clad outline of one Tod deKindes, standing at the top of the entrance way, under the Smarktron which bears his name, staring directly ahead. As the song kicks into gear, Tod begins a confident walk down the ramp, quite indifferent to a crowd that once dared to support him, but now has nothing but contempt for the man. Riley: There walks a man with a purpose! A man that was showered with praise upon his arrival in this company. All the experts predicted nothing but greatness for this young talent. But there's always been one man to hog his glory! One man who always got the title shots, the important matches, the main events! Who can blame Tod for only wanting his true deserved success?! Now, it's come to this. One man HAS to go! Having walked down the extra long aisle way, Tod gets a knee up on the ring apron and boosts himself up to a standing poisition on that very same apron, taking a second to sweep the crowd with a steely gaze. Crossing through the ropes, he immediately walks over to a second turnbuckle, where he first throws a point and thumbs up shoutout to Bobby Riley for the banner, then morphs it into his symbol for the Spirit Breaker. He finally gets down from his perch of hatred, as he wrestles himself out of his trench coat. His music finally dies down, allowing Funyon to complete the introductions. Funyon: And his opponent … (crowd begins to cheer) … A loud guitar riff. Followed by a drum quickly fading in. "Oy! Oy! Oy! Oy! …" Funyon: He is from Anaheim, California and he weighs in at 266 lbs: he is TNT - Taylooooor - Nicholaaaaaaaaaaaaaas - Thoooooooompsoooooooooon !! Stevens: The man withstood a career threatening concussion so that he could make it here tonight! He's got the chance to get rid of that one thorn in his ass, and he's standing in the ring! Riley: I wouldn't be so quick to make such assinine remarks, Stevens! Look at how gingerly TNT is walking to the ring! He's not even moving, he's afraid to get HURT!! Stevens: What he's doing is he's drilling holes right into the eyes of his rival Tod deKindes! This is a massive gut check time for both men! With eyes locked onto one man and one man only, Taylor Nicholas Thompson slowly but confidently walks down the aisle for what may be the last time. As his opponent Tod deKindes patiently waits with hands on knees, with his crosshairs also locked in on the Explosive One. As referee Mark Hebner keeps some distance between the two men, Thompson walks up the ring steps with a purpose, one by one. Stevens: Notice how both men have taken their time getting to the ring. They can NOT afford to expend any energy! Riley: TNT is finally showing some common sense for once! He's usually prancing down the ramp, jumping left and right, yelling off Boom or something; he knows that tonight is NOT the best of strategies. I predict this will be nothing short of a long and well calculated fight! Both men are in the ring, with Mark Hebner being the neutral man between the two for now. As the AC DC dies down, they both approach center ring, while Tod slowly eases out of his trench coat. Riley: How appropriate is this, Stevens. Their first match was against one another. I remember it as if it were yesterday: They were standing opposite each other like they are doing right now, with referee Mark Hebner giving them the pre-match instructions. That night in the Junior Leagues, two careers were just beginning. Tonight, one is all but over. Stevens: Your evening will be over if TNT sees that ridiculous banner of yours! Riley: Please! This guy couldn't even see into the future if he was screwing a fortune teller! Stevens: … Mark Hebner orders both men back to their corner, so that he can throw the signal for the opening bell … Stevens: Here we go, this match is underway! As Mark Hebner stands in a corner and dutifully monitors the action, Thompson confidently steps forward to center ring. Tod also approaches with his guard up. Thompson holds his hands out, pointing to his chin, almost as if he was leaving himself open. Riley: What is he doing? Is he offering Tod a free shot?! Stevens: It certainly looks like that! Say what you will, but TNT is NOT afraid of that 225-lbs coward and he will NEVER be intimidated by him!! Riley: Whoa … Getting personal, are we? Tod looks left and right, unsure whether he should take the free shot or not, while Thompson eggs him on … TNT: Come on, boy!!! Tod: … Boy?! I'm older than you!! The Torontonian Wonder balls up his fist and swings it mightily towards the face of TNT, but it's quickly ducked under! Rather than reply with a fist of his own, Thompson grabs a quick headlock. Having none of that, Tod shoves Thompson off to the ropes and quickly hits the mat stomach first, as TNT bounces off the ropes and does a quick hop over the downed Tod. Quick leg trip by Tod, who lands on top of TNT. ONE! Hebner barely has time to register "TWO!" when Thompson kicks out and gets shoved back into the ropes, courtesy of a meaty slap to the back by Tod. Thompson bounces off the ropes and ducks under a fierce clothesline attempt. He bounces off the opposite side, only to duck under a solid back elbow attempt. On the third bounce, Tod bends down for an attempt at a back body drop, but Thompson leap frogs over THAT and lands right behind Tod. Both men spin 180, as Thompson snatches Tod by the wrist and sends HIM running through the ropes. And now Tod is the one ducking under the ever popular clothesline and back elbow attempts, only to stop himself short and block TNT's attempt at a hip toss. Tod plants a gut shot on TNT, places his leg over Thompson's head and gracefully back flips into a free standing position. He swings another mighty clothesling headed for TNT's head, but it's promptly ducked. Thompson fires off his own ferocious clothesline attempt, but Tod also ducks this one; as both men fire themselves off into the ropes and nail each other with a BIG double clothesline! Both men go down, but are quick to stagger back up to their feet. Right away, they connect into a stiff lock up, going back and forth. Stevens: Look at 'em go! They knock each other down, only to get right back up! Two rugged men going at it intensely, just how Bobby Riley likes it! Riley: … Thompson seems to have gained the upper hand, as he's about to back Tod into a corner; only he switches gears and sends Tod flying with an arm drag! Caught off guard, Tod dashes angrily … into another arm drag! And another! Thompson preps himself for a fourth one, but Tod quickly puts the brakes on and begs off into a corner, flashing the dreaded Time Out symbol. Stevens: Come on, what's this?!! Riley: The man is TIRED!! He needs his rest! Stevens: Tired?! We're two minutes into this match! Thompson is all "Nuts to this!" and advances towards Tod …only to be met with a thumb to the eyes! He catches TNT's arm and twists it into an arm wringer. With Thompson leaning down, Tod places his leg over TNT's shoulder, steps over and rolls through into a nasty arm bar! Riley: Whoa! Someone looks like he's been watching some Danny Williams matches! Stevens: There's a modified cross arm breaker, with Tod now going to work on TNT's left arm! Thompson writhes in pain while Mark Hebner tries to get a submission out of him; but he's got more than enough power left to squirm his way over to the ropes and place his foot on the bottom strand. Tod is a little reluctant in releasing the hold. Hebner: Come on, break the hold, Tod!! One!! Two!! Three!! Four!! Fi--…!! Tod: Bahahah!! Count all you want, man!! No way you're DQ'ing ME!! Riley: Hear that? Tod is right, there are NO disqualifications in this match! If he hangs on, this could be the shortest career match in HISTORY!! That would be all well and good for the Torontonian Wonder, but out of the goodness of his own heart, he chooses to release the hold. Riley: You gotta admit, this is a pretty good strategy on the part of Tod. Take out TNT's arm, and he won't be able to do those nasty clotheslines or that big sitdown powerbomb of his. Stevens: If Tod keeps working on that arm, you're right, that power advantage that Thompson has will be cut in half. But this match has just begun, let's not cut our losses just yet! Thompson retreats in a corner so that he can get some feeling back in his arm, but Tod is right away on him as he sends a NASTY boot to the shoulder! He follows it up with a series of hard shoulder blocks to the mid section, punctuated by a series of loud knife edge chops. Tod grabs TNT's arm for a cross corner Irish whip, which Thompson can't reverse due to that nagging pain in his arm. Thompson travels the distance across the ring and crashes hard back first into the turnbuckles. Tod charges blindly … which costs him, as Thompson lifts up his boot, sending Tod's face right into it! Thompson grabs Tod by the hair and arm, and Irish whips him into the far ropes. Tod bounces off the ropes and ducks under a massive right arm clothesline attempt. Thompson bends down for another back body drop attempt, but Tod kicks him RIGHT in the face to counter that. He grabs hold of Thompson's shoulder and DROPS it down to the mat with a single arm DDT! He covers and grinds his forearm into TNT's face. ONE! TWO!! TH--! Shoulder up by Thompson. Stevens: That was close! Riley: Come on, ref!! Tod echoes Bobby Riley's sentiments of outrage, but quickly recovers Thompson, this time he hooks the leg. ONE! TWO!! THR--!! Stevens: And another kick out by the former World champ! Before Thompson can manage to make his way up to his feet, Tod zeroes in on him and locks on an arm bar. Riley: See, how nice is that? Tod has been nothing but dominant so far in this match! He's been on his game ever since coming back! He hasn't LOST since coming back, Stevens!! Stevens: He's wrestled all of three times since his return! And he's lost TWO of 'em by disqualification!! Riley: But did he get pinned? Stevens: No, I don't reckon he did. Riley: Exactly! The LAST time that Tod's shoulders were pinned to the mat for the 1 - 2 - 3 was against then World champion El Luchadore Magnifico last winter. And where's HE been these days?! My point is this: not just about ANYBODY will have what it takes to defeat a wrestler the caliber of Tod deKindes! Stevens: If anybody's got what it takes, it's certainly Taylor Nicholas Thompson! That man DID beat Mags, for the -World Title-, no less!! With Hebner in a kneeling position right in front of TNT, Tod yanks back on the arm with all his might, trying to get a submission out of the Explosive One … Hebner: What do you say, Taylor! TNT: FUCK you!! As Thompson grunts out those words, he tries to muscle his way up to his feet, and can't help but grab a hold of Tod's wet and long dark flowing locks. Tod: Hey, ref! Hair, hair, hair, hair!! Hebner: What! I can't DQ him, you said! Tod: REAL funny! -- GAH!! Thompson is almost free from the clutches of the arm bar, but Tod had THAT well scouted, as he hammers the back of Thompson's head with at least five or six solid forearm smashes. Still feeling the effects of that concussion, Thompson crumples back down to the mat. Riley: There's that concussion acting up again! I TOLD you it was a mistake for TNT to get back in the ring so soon! He is SO gonna be retired by the end of the night! Tod reverts to an old strategy and once again applies a cross arm breaker … Stevens: Tod deKindes has been relentless on that arm ever since the match has started! First the head injury and now THIS! You gotta wonder how badly Tod wants to retire TNT! Riley: Hey, that's what I call having your bases covered! Thompson isn't ready to have his arm broken, however, as he starts rolling to his side; while Tod still has him in the hold. With Tod literally upside down and with the move clamped on, all Thompson has to do is lift up his boot and rake it across Tod's face to break the hold! While he holds his face, trying to see if his eyes are still in place, Thompson tries to shake the pain from his arm. He sees Tod in a corner of the ring. His eyes turn murderous. Fun's over, says he. Stevens: And now there's that opening that TNT might've been looking for! Riley: But the damage has been DONE, Stevens! He's holding that arm of his! His head is still giving him problems! He can NOT afford to make any mistakes in this match here tonight! You know how Tod can capitalize on his opponents' mistake! Tod barely has time to turn around, that he walks right into a HUGE clothesline! And ANOTHER, courtesy of the former World champ. After a third clothesline, Tod staggers right back up only to have Thompson plant a boot right in his gut. He grabs his head by the hair and thrusts him into a standing head scissor position! Stevens: He's going right away for the Mushroom Cloud!! Thompson could put this one away in a HURRY!! Riley: No way!! Come on, Tod, hit him in the sack!! TNT tries to lift up his hapless opponent, but Tod does his impression of a sandbag as he's having none of it. He wiggles his legs and frees himself by crawling beneath Thompson's legs, all the way to the safety of the outside mats. Riley: Whew! Stevens: Tod deKindes escaped certain doom by a HAIR, Bobby! Injured arm or not, if TNT can hit that massive sit down powerbomb on you, forget it, it is OVER! Tod rests on the apron, facing the crowd and catching his breath. What he doesn't see is TNT bearing down on him, and looming over. With his huge right hand, he reaches over the top rope, and snatches Tod by the hair to the delight of the crowd! He pulls up the now screaming Torontonian Wonder up to the ring apron and appropriates him into a suplex position. He grabs him by the tights, lifts him up and proceeds to lift him up for a good ten seconds! Stevens: And look at that power! Whether his arm his hurt or not, TNT is now taking control of this match! Thompson swings his body backwards, landing in a HUGE delayed suplex! Tod gingerly makes his way back up to his feet, all while holding his lower back as if it were slammed against the hardest of concretes. He turns around, and barely has enough time to notice TNT crouching and ready; as he snaps off a NAILS Tod right in the face with a stinging big boot! He yanks up the former german by the hair, only to send him running the ropes via an Irish whip. As he bounces off right away, Thompson catches him in a somewhat modified military press and sends him flying HIGH in the air, and then land hard on his nose! A big man's flap jack, if you will … Riley: No!! His face!! His valuable face!! Still minorly shaking off the arm, Thompson collects Tod by the hair and sends his face ramming into a nearby set of turnbuckles! He follows it up immediately as he squashes the Todster's ribs with a big time series of knee lifts that drive the air out of Tod. Cross corner Irish whip, Tod hits hard, and appears a little dazed. Thompson charges … and nails a HUGE corner splash that rocks Tod even more, as he collapses to his knees. Riley: His ribs!! His pristine ribs, you sick evil monster!! Thompson raises up Tod to his feet, once again by the hair, and grabs a lame headlock … only to throw himself a couple steps forward and DRIVE Tod's head hard into the mat with a bulldog! Thompson leans over for the cover. ONE! TWO!! THR--! Hebner: Two!!! Shoulder up by Tod, who once again gets pulled unwillingly to his feet. Thompson has him in a front face lock, but twists him upwards, almost as if for a spinning neck breaker … which is just what he does! He strolls over to a nearby corner and hops onto a second turnbuckle. He aims the point of the elbow … and delivers it RIGHT on top of Tod's forehead! The cover. ONE! TWO!! THR--! Hebner: Two!! TNT: Mark, I'm making an EXTRA effort to kill this bastard tonight! Throw me a bone, here!! Hebner: Only two, Taylor! While Tod can faintly be heard begging off, Thompson shuts him up with a NASTY elbow or two that send Tod staggering back into a corner. Thompson joins him there and sits the defenseless lead Todhead on the top rope, surely with more bad intentions in mind … Riley: This is sick, Stevens!! TNT is having his way with Tod right now! Does he even want to WIN?! Or does he simply wanna beat him up for thirty minutes?! After what can't be a too pleasing slap to the face, Thompson sets both feet on the second rope and grabs Tod's arms in a double underhook. TNT: Goin' down! He effortlessly lifts up his opponent … and brings him down HARD with a double underhook superplex from the second rope! Cover, with the leg hooked. ONE! TWO!! THR--! Stevens: And another kick out by Tod deKindes! Riley: You have to hand it to him! He's taking it all so far! A brutal beating, trash talking, EVERYTHING that TNT has to offer and Tod is STILL in this match! Thompson picks up Tod by the hair, only to snapmare him back down into a seated position. He takes a few steps back, and with a shushing motion he beckons the crowd to keep quiet … so that they can hear the SMACK of his knee against the back of Tod's neck! The crowd can only groan and cheer like they can do so well, as Thompson once again covers. ONE! TWO!! THR--! And miraculously, Tod gets another shoulder up. Thompson grabs a firm hold of his hair, so that he can talk a little more trash … TNT: The fun has JUST begun, Todski!! Stevens: You've heard him, folks! The fun has only begun! Payback for all the trouble that Tod deKindes has caused for Taylor Nicholas Thompson!! Riley: Aw, this is bad! It doesn't look too good for Tod!! As Tod remains in a kneeling position, Thompson backtracks towards the ropes and bounces back … only to NAIL the kneeling Tod with another stiff boot to the face! As a bit of spit goes flying out, Tod once again crumples to the mat in a heap. Thompson places a boot on top of Tod. ONE! TWO!! THR--! But Tod kicks out yet one more time. Thompson collects him from his dazed state on the mat, and once again sits him on the top turnbuckle. TNT: Superpleeeeeeeex~!! Riley: Another one?! This is abuse!! Tod is once again appropriated into the vertical suplex starting position, as Thompson gets ready to send him crashing down hard to the mat … but Tod, however, is having a different idea. He locks his feet into place and hammers a series of small uppercut rights to the mid section of TNT, effectively slowing him down. Tod looks to hook on his OWN suplex type move, surely looking to suplex the dude face first back into the ring. He tries to lift Thompson up, but THAT's blocked with a series of gut shots! Thompson regains control of the hold and successfully manages to lift up Tod … only to drop him all the way face first on the ring apron! Riley: What is THIS?!! This is BEYOND heinoserous!! Stevens: Hey what? Riley: You heard me! Thompson steps down from his perch of explosive offense, only to slither outside to the ring to rejoin his opponent. As Mark Hebner follows them to the mats, Thompson picks up Tod to his feet and lifts him up on his shoulder. He contemplates dropping him on the ring apron … or the guard rail … or hell, the steel ring steps would do just as well. He finally decides to take a few running steps and Snake Eyes' Tod's head onto the announce table! Stevens: Watch out, right in front of us! Riley: Careful with my banner! I spent two hours making this in my car! Speaking of the said anti TNT banner, Thompson finally happens to notice it. He fires a quizzical but murderous glance towards Bobby Riley, who's suddenly sweating bullets and loosening his collar. Stevens: Bobby, it would seem that you are caught. TNT: "Good bye, TNT", huh? You made this for him?! Riley: Uhhhh … no, it was him! TNT: Here's a funny idea! Let's see if your boy Tod can EAT IT!! Riley: What?! With one swift motion of the arm, Thompson yanks the 5 foot banner off of the announcers' table, tears it into pieces … and proceeds to attempting to force feed it to Tod. Riley: Hey, come on!! That's not NUTRITIOUS!! Stevens: Bobby, I hope that was recycled paper you were using!! Thompson lets up on his "feeding frenzy" and plays to the crowd, so that Tod can hack and spit out the globs of paper that were forcefully being jammed down his throat. After getting a bit of cheering going on his side, Thompson grabs his still coughing opponent by the hair and measures him up … so that he can strike him in the face with a nasty elbow shot! Tod staggers up against the ring apron, trying to check if his jaw is still in its place. Thompson stays on him, however, as he measures him up one more time … and nails ANOTHER big time elbow strike to the head! Tod staggers forward, right up against the ring post. Thompson measures him up one more time, and fires off another elbow … but Tod MOVES as Thompson crashes into the ring post! Riley: Bahahaha!! Serves you RIGHT for tearin' up my banner!! Stevens: TNT has just ran his arm right into that steel ring post!! His arm could REALLY be hurting now!! Now it's up to Tod deKindes to capitalize, but that's IF he can capitalize, considering how much punishment he's taken thus far! Riley: This is JUST what Tod was waiting for! That big oaf was gonna make that one mistake sooner or later that will eventually cost him the match! All Tod was doing was biding his time. Stevens: And getting his ass beat up. Say it like it is! Riley: Screw you and your one sided views!! Tod grabs Thompson's ailing left arm by the wrist and wraps it around the very same ring post in which it just crashed. He fiercely yanks against it, in a way that an arm isn't supposed to bend, as Thompson suddenly screams out in agony. All Mark Hebner can do is beg with him to release that hold and please not break that arm, but Tod plays dumb and will have none of it. Riley: Now THAT is more like it! TNT's head must still be THROBBING from that concussion of his, and now Tod is taking his arm apart with picture perfect mechanical precision! You can NOT powerbomb someone with just ONE arm, Spammer! Tod finally decides to release the hold, but not before swinging Thompson's wrist hard into the apron! Before doing anything else, he catches a glimpse of the now naked announce table. Tod: (sputtering) Wh- … Th … Bobby! Your banner!!! Riley: I know!! He tried to make you EAT IT!! Tod: Ohhh, that is IT!! He lunges at Thompson's prone figure with a series of hard right hands to the side of the head. He points to the ring post that's all the way to the opposite side of the ring, no doubt signaling that he has full intentions of throwing Thompson into it. And sure enough, he Irish whips him towards that very spot … but Thompson reverses! He charges right away, but in that split second; Tod hooks the ring post and 619's around it as he swings his feet below the ropes and back out, connecting with a weird double kick that nails Thompson right in the head! Riley: 4 - 1 - 6!! Stevens: 416?! Riley: You misinformed numb nuts, that's Toronto's area code! Even if the blow wasn't powerful enough to floor the Explosive One, Tod still grabs him by the dreads and rolls him back inside the ring. Rather than following him right back in, Tod steps up onto the apron and times his steps right. He pulls on the ropes with all his might and slingshots himself back in the ring, connecting with a big time senton atomico that lands hard on the ribs. Tod leans back for the pin attempt. ONE! TWO!! THR--! Shoulder up by TNT. Both men back up, as Tod pulls up his opponent by the hair. Irish whip to the ropes by Tod, which is gingerly reversed by Thompson. Tod bounces off the ropes and ducks under a weak left armed clothesline attempt. Seeing as he really shouldn't try the ensuing back elbow attempt, Thompson simply bends down for a back body drop attempt. Tod counters it with a swift kick to the face, followed by another kick, this time to the gut. He thrusts TNT's head into a standing head scissor, for the sole purpose of DRILLING his head into the mat with a jumping piledriver! Cover by Tod, as he grinds the forearm into Thompson's nose. ONE! TWO!! THRE--! Kick out just in time, by Thompson. Thompson's insistency at kicking out notwithstanding, Tod doesn't seem to be bothered as he flashes a slow but confident throat slash, culminating in the reverse Gunz To The Head motion. Riley: Here we go!! Let the retirement party begin for Taylor Nicholas Thompson! It's time to break some spirits!! Stevens: We all know how effective the Spirit Breaker can be! If Tod deKindes can hit that move, TNT's chances of winning this match are gonna take a HUGE downfall! Riley: Say it like it is, Spammer! TNT is going to LOSE this match! He will be forced into retirement by one of the most devastating moves ever witnessed in the history of this company!! Tod has Thompson by the hair and arm, as he acquires him into the pumphandle slam position (arm running between the legs). He muscles the Explosive One onto his shoulder in order to deliver the move … but Thompson slips out! On his way down, he hooks an inverted face lock and DRILLS the back of Tod's head into the mat with a reverse DDT! Both men lay on the mat, not moving, as Mark Hebner fires up his ten count. Stevens: There's ONE counter for that (1) move!! Riley: That's bull! Despite (2) having the strength of ten men, Tod simply couldn't hoist that tub of GOO onto his shoulder so he (3) lost his balance! I DID see TNT gulping down a whole pizza before the show, you (4) know. Stevens: You look like you've (5) been spending a little too much time at the catering table (6) yourself. Both men start making their way up to their feet, with Tod winning that race just as the referee was about to reach 10 on his count. Tod quickly warms up the band and fires off a standing side kick aimed at Thompson's jaw … but it's caught! TNT spins the Torontonian around and PLOWS into him with a big time right armed Burning Lariat! Stevens: The right arm still works! TNT has just about removed Tod's HEAD off from his shoulders!! Riley: He tripped! Thompson slowly but surely crawls his way up to his feet, shaking his arm in order to get back some feeling into it. Just as Thompson is back up to a standing position, Tod is just starting to clear the cob webs and ascend to his feet. Thompson stands there in the ready position, screaming at him. TNT: Come on!! Hit me, bitch!! HIT ME!! Tod is now fully back up. He sees Thompson right there begging for a shot, which he's too happily to oblige. He charges with a clothesline, but Thompson ducks under it and catches with a HUGE STO that drives Tod on the BACK of his head and neck! Stevens: Power - Nitro - Driver!! Riley: He's trying to concuss him! Hell, he's trying to HURT him!! Stevens: Good! They have great retirement plans at the HMO!! Riley: Oh yeah, REAL funny!! … Jackass. Instead of going for a cover that could probably net him the victory, Thompson starts to feel confident, and heads to a corner. He crosses the ropes and begins a slow climb of the turnbuckles. Stevens: And now it looks as if TNT is going to take it to the skies! Riley: PLEASE!! You know what happens when he does that! He tends to get too cocky and he ends up making stupid mistakes, like falling on his ASS! Stevens: Granted, TNT is no high flyer, but just imagine the impact that a 266 lbs man crashing onto you from the top rope would have! Riley: I'm surprised he even remembered which way was UP!! With a hand gesture, Thompson administers last rites (so to speak), then holds his hands outwards, as he lets himself fall off the top turnbuckle, connecting with a HUGE diving headbutt onto Tod! Cover, with the leg hooked. ONE! TWO!! THRE--! Hebner: TWO~!! Stevens: So close! Riley: Yet so far!! Tod is STILL in this thing!! Stevens: These two men can't last that much longer, Bobby! Sooner or later, one of them is going to break! It'll be just a matter of time before we see either of these two men sent into retirement! Riley: And if he plays his cards right, Tod is MINUTES away from sending TNT off playing CANASTA with Mayor McCheese, Mercury and Divefire! Both men end up back on their feet, but Tod is still on dream streak. Thompson flips the dreads back, and snatches Tod's throat in a goozle. TNT: Goin' up!! He lifts up the hapless Tod high in the air … and DROPS him with a big time Kane like chokeslam (with added finger wag for effect)! TNT: … and down!! Stevens: Chokeslam!! All the way to the fiery depths of hell, bah God!! Riley: We need help out here!! TNT: One mooooooooore!! As the crowd cheeringly agrees with a second chokeslam, Thompson brings up Tod to his feet, and traps him in yet another goozle. He goes to deliver the move once again, but Tod BLOCKS it with a series of quick elbows to the side of the head! He breaks free of the goozle and comes back with a kick to the gut … and a Stone Cold Stunner (with added bird flipping for effect)?? Riley: Aw HELL yeah!! Stevens: Stunner, bah GAWD!! …… Wait, what am I saying? Now, rather than HIM making a potentially match ending cover; Tod scampers towards a corner and carefully ascends the ropes. He dedicates the move to the fat boy in the front row, and dives off in a picture perfect position of an elbow drop … Stevens: Big elbow coming up!! … but Thompson MOVES, as Tod crashes hard into the mat!! Riley: Come on, Tod!! Outcast and Danny Vigilante are DESPERATELY looking for a shuffleboard partner!! Both men stagger back up to their feet as they clear the cob webs loose. They advance towards one another, as Tod swings a big time right hand towards Thompson's face, but it's caught … into a Rock Bottom?! Stevens: Smell THAT, Jabrone!! Riley: THIS ISN'T WRESTLEMANIA X-7, DAMN IT!! Thompson realizes that yes, he did indeed just nail a Rock Bottom, but quickly foregoes that, as he stands there and summons Tod up to his feet one last time. TNT: On your FEET, Bitch!! It's time I go KABOOM on yer ass!! Somehow, someway, Tod is back on his feet. But not for long, as Thompson meets him with a knee lift to the gut. As the crowd starts to fire up, Thompson thrusts Tod's head into a standing head scissors. TNT: That is fucking - IT!! He wraps his massive arms around the waist of the Torontonian Wonder and lifts him up helplessly on his shoulders, holding him up for what appears to be ten seconds. All that goes up has to come down, however, as Thompson sits down and PANCAKES Tod into the mat with a hard sit out powerbomb!! Stevens: MUSHROOM CLOUD~!! That's gotta be it!! Cover him!!! With Tod folded up in half, Thompson has to roll his lifeless body onto his back so that he can lay on top of him with a lateral press. Mark Hebner is quickly in position. ONE! TWO!! THRE--… Stevens: NO!! Riley: YES~!! While Bobby Riley is having an aneurysm, everyone stands in shock as they see Tod deKindes' arm way up in the air, shaking his fist and as the referee flashes the dreaded peace sign. Stevens: I can NOT believe that Tod deKindes has just kicked out of the Mushroom Cloud!! Riley: There is a God!!! And his name is Tod deKindes!! If TNT's own FINISHING MOVE can't even defeat Tod, then I ask you: WHAT IN THE HELL CAN?!!! While Thompson quite rightfully disputes that count with Mark Hebner, Tod is amazingly crawling his way up to his feet, helping himself with the nearby turnbuckles. Thompson quickly steamrolls into him, as he charges in the corner and nails a massive running forearm to the upper back! He grabs Tod in a rear waist lock, readying himself for some German suplex goodness. However, Tod still has the good instinct to grab onto the top rope in order to prevent his feet from leaving the mat. His trick knee suddenly acts up, as he NAILS Thompson's unmentionables with a nasty nut shot. While Hebner checks on TNT, Tod slithers back outside, where he appears to be searching for an object of pain infliction. Stevens: And now, what is Tod doing?! The match has to be won inside the ring!! Riley: The man is TIRED and he can't STAND TNT's nasty case of B.O.! Tod's search for a weapon comes to an end, as he settles for Mark Stevens' chair. Stevens: Hey! Get your hands off me!! Riley: Hey, the man wants your chair!! Don't make it worse on yourself, you're ALREADY into retirement! Having won that brief little tussle, Tod slides back into the ring as he slams the chair flat onto the mat. Stevens: Well, I'm without my seat for now, ladies and gentlemen; but for now, all signs point to Tod going for his chair assisted DVX! The very same move that put TNT out for a couple of weeks!! Riley: Good! He'll have all the time in the world to recover from the concussion!! I hear they have very good arts & crafts conventions in Anaheim! Thompson is back on his feet and staggering about, with his back turned to Tod. Tod yanks him backwards by the dreads into an inverted face lock position, right above the chair. He hooks TNT's near leg with his own … swings himself forward … and boosts himself backwards, DRIVING Thompson's head into the chair!! Stevens: And there's the DVX on the steel chair!! Tod deKindes is going to take this one!! Riley: WOOOOOOHOOOOOOO!! Through thick and thin!! After ALL these months! All these battles, we finally learn that MY BOY Tod deKindes is THE better wrestler between the two!! Tod slides the chair out of the way, as to get a real good cover on TNT. Mark Hebner slides into position. Tod hooks the tights for fun. ONE! TWO!! THRE--!! Stevens: THERE'S STILL SOME LIFE LEFT IN TAYLOR NICHOLAS THOMPSON!! Riley: WHAT?!?!? … Tod has just done the equivalent of running his ass over with a MACK TRUCK and that son of a bitch IS STILL KICKING OUT?!!! Tod echoes the same feelings towards the referee, albeit with 25% more cursing. But then, he sees Thompson … scrambling to get to his feet. Panic time. Stevens: (with the sound of a roaring crowd backing him up) TNT has withstood SO much here tonight!! He's even managed to kick out of the same move that gave him a level two concussion!! That's just gotta prove to you how badly TNT wants it!! And now he's just about HAD IT with YOUR BOY Tod deKindes, Bobby Riley!! Riley: (the stark realisation of things is slowly starting to hit him) This isn't fair!! This is NOT how it was supposed to happen!! Unleashing a desperate war cry, Tod charges towards the Explosive One. Thompson avoids it and scores with another knee lift. He jams Tod's head BACK into a standing head scissor. Up goes Tod … and back DOWN hard with another Mushroom Cloud! Stevens: There's a second Mushroom Cloud on Tod deKindes!! But TNT is not covering! What's he waiting for, he's got this match won!! Riley: Now he's just showing off!! Stevens: He's pulling him back up to his feet!! TNT has Tod's head in his hand, and thrusts it back into ANOTHER standing head scissor. Just as easy as it was before, he lifts him up on his shoulders and DRIVES the poor sap down with another sit down powerbomb!! Stevens: There's a THIRD Mushroom Cloud!! The cover!!! ONE!! TWO!! THRE--!! Hebner: TWOOO~! Stevens: AGAIN, Tod deKindes finds it within him to kick out!! He's GOT to be running on fumes at this point! Riley: I swear to you my heart just stopped about five times! TNT doesn't claim to be a man of faith, but with what he has in mind; he believes that this time, Tod is DONE. He brings the vegetable minded Torontonian up to his feet for one more time, back into the standing head scissor. This time, he hooks the arms … Riley: Great, now what's THIS?! Thompson lifts up his legally brain dead opponent by the arms, only to drop right back down and DRIVE Tod's head into the mat! Stevens: The Dynamite!! That's a modified Tiger Driver!! Riley: No fair!! He was using that in the Junior Leagues!! Exhausted, Thompson falls on top of Tod, and hooks the leg. ONE! TWO!! THREE!!! Stevens: HE'S DONE IT!! The bell rings, as the crowd explodes into cheers. As his namesake AC-DC song fires up, ring announcer Funyon makes it official: Funyon: Ladies and gentlemen, here is YOUR winner: Taylooooor - Nicholaaaaaaaaas - Thoooooompsoooooooooooooon!! As TNT rolls off of the inert Tod, he simply lays there on the mat, taking a moment to let it sink in. Mark Hebner strolls towards him to raise his hand, but all he can think about is the f'n war he just went through. But hearing the roar of the crowd is all he needs to perk himself back up, as he springs to his feet, and unleashes one more "KABOOM!" for the road. Stevens: TNT, victorious here tonight at 13th Hour!! But unfortunately, it also means the end of one career, and that is the one of Tod deKindes! Riley: You may not like him, Stevens; and these humanoids out there may not like him, but Tod deKindes has NO reason to be ashamed here tonight! He kicked out of THREE Mushroom Clouds!! He gave TNT the beating of his LIFE!! Tonight is a damn shame, because professional wrestling is losing the services of MY BOY: Tod deKindes!! Just as Thompson is rolling out of the ring and slapping some hands in the aisle; Tod is showing signs of life. He's hearing the crowd cheer. He's hearing music that's not his own. He's aware of what happened. Gingerly, he sits up and brushes a lock of hair wet with perspiration off from his face. As the AC-DC calms down and as TNT has retreated to the dressing room, we see what has to be a look of combined sadness and disappointment on the face of Tod deKindes. He slowly looks around the crowd. Some are still cheering. Some are taunting him. He glances towards the announce table. He sees both Bobby Riley AND Mark Stevens standing and applauding. And sure enough, a few people in the front row are now imitating them. It quickly spreads to the surrounding rows of seats, which are quickly being emptied. As Tod stands to his feet, soon enough, he's actually receiving a standing ovation. Out of respect, the commentators have removed their head sets and are now egging the crowd on for more applause. Tod stares back at each and every audience member, taking in the applause. He falls back to his knees and rolls outside, as the crowd breaks into a "Good - Bye - Tod!" chant. He slowly makes his way over to the announcers; as Bobby Riley greets him with a handshake and a hug, while Stevens offer a sympathetic but warm pat on the back. "Good - Bye - Tod!" "Good - Bye - Tod!" "Good - Bye - Tod!" "Good - Bye - Tod!" Holding back a tear or two, Tod grabs the microphone from Funyon. Tod: Y'know …… I deserved that …… You guys take care. After handing back the mic, Tod takes a slow walk up the ramp; his last. Slapping a hand or two along the way, he stops under the Smarktron for one last look at a crowd that seems to be firmly chanting his name. Holding back another tear, he gives them a final salute in the form of a single raise of the fist, as the crowd cheers back. We leave on that image, as one athlete says goodbye to the sport he loves. Fade to black. Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Guest Suicide King Report post Posted June 24, 2003 The Pengrowth Saddledome in Calgary, Alberta, Canada is going absolutely wild as the fans know the final match of the evening is only a few minutes away! Fans are shown on the SmarkTron waving signs like “Strangler Makes Flesher Choke,” “300 Pounds of Roid Rage” with “Roid” crossed out, and “I’m Here To See Craven.” We’ve got to stop letting the camera pan the Craven section. Regardless of who’s sitting where, however, the fans are all hyped up for the main event. Literally thousands of black Boston Strangler t-shirts and tank tops are seen in the audience, with the few blue Magnificent Seven t-shirts and polos sticking out like the proverbial sore thumb. The SmarkTron lights up with a photo of Tom Flesher, his SWF World Title over his shoulder, and the crowd explodes in a chorus of boos. Just as suddenly, a photo of the Boston Strangler appears next to it, and the crowd bursts into cheers! “SWF WORLD CHAMPIONSHIP: TOM FLESHER vs. THE BOSTON STRANGLER, 2 OUT OF 3 FALLS.” The match and stipulation scroll across the bottom of the screen, and the fans begin an impromptu chant of “TBS! TBS!” The camera, meanwhile, pans over and settles on “Grand Slam” Mark Stevens and Bobby Riley, decked out in their standard pay-per-view attire. “Welcome back to SWF 13th Hour,” says Stevens, his bat-and-ball-pattern cummerbund and tie clashing noticeably with the sundial chyron graphic showing his name. “After a night of exciting action where we crowned a pair of #1 contenders and saw Tod deKindes and Taylor Thompson fight to a memorable finish, it almost seems like nothing Tom Flesher and the Boston Strangler can do would possibly top that.” “Oh, but you’re forgetting,” says Riley in his standard powder-blue, ruffled ensemble, “the World Champion’s going to be in the ring. Even with that big lug dragging him down, even with the Boston Strangler doing everything he can to make this match utterly unwatchable, the Superior One is going to be able to drag a five-and-a-half-star match out of him. The extra half-star is for the extra effort to carry that brick that’s trying to drown him.” “What YOU’RE forgetting, Bobby, is that the Strangler’s spent so much of his time plotting his revenge on Tom Flesher. From the time that he had to leave the SWF and enter rehab, and from the time that Chris Wilson handed over the reins of the Magnificent Seven to Tom Flesher, the Boston Strangler’s been studying everything Flesher did and planning out exactly how to pull off the defeat. He knows that HE was the man that Wilson should have left in charge of the stable, and tonight he’s going to prove it.” “Pure, unadulterated crap, Stevens. The Boston Strangler’s got no technical ability.” “He sure showed off enough of it when he beat Flesher in their non-title clash.” “Sure, he might have recorded a tainted victory over Flesher, but the Superior One has it all over him in the ring. One victory doesn’t mean anything tonight, Grand Slam. Even IF the Strangler does manage to catch Tom off-guard and get a quick pin, Flesher’s technical superiority and intelligence advantage are going to net him his fifth defense – tying Edwin MacPhisto’s record!” “And if the Boston Strangler wins, he’ll win only his second World Title shot ever in the SWF, and take the gold home to Boston!” “See, that’s the other thing,” says Riley. “He’d probably pawn the belt.” “How can you even say that?” asks an enraged Stevens. “The Strangler’s spent the past two months chasing Tom Flesher down, and that belt is going to be his trophy when he takes Flesher out twice tonight. So, without further ado, let’s go to Funyon.” Funyon steps into the ring, his attire for the evening a Nehru jacket featuring an airbrushing of Dali’s “The Persistence of Memory.” He announces, “Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is your MAIN EVENT!” He pauses for the quick round of applause before continuing, “It will be decided by two out of three falls, and it is for the SWF WORLD CHAMPIONSHIP!” The crowd applauds for a few moments until the lights dim. The opening chords of Blue Oyster Cult’s “Godzilla” blare over the speakers and the fans start cheering, anticipating the man who’s going to take the title off the man who’s held it for over two months. As the song launches into its opening guitar riff, the SmarkTron lights up with big white letters spelling “STRANGLER” and explosions of white pyro go off on the sides of the stage. As the smoke dissipates, the Boston Strangler emerges from the back. He raises one fist to the crowd, a gesture his supporters return as a sign of respect. He starts walking down the ramp, his eyes focused on the ring, a look of intensity on his face. “The challenger,” says Funyon, “Hailing from Boston, Massachusetts, and weighing in tonight at 303 pounds, he’s the executioner from New England, the slayer from Southie, he is THE BOSTON STRAAAAAAAANGLERRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!” The crowd cheers Strangler as he slides into the ring, then climbs onto the second turnbuckle. He raises both arms into the air, fists closed, to salute the crowd, then steps down and makes his way to the center. “I’ll tell you right now,” says Mark Stevens, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen Strangler this focused. He’s got his sights set on Tom Flesher, and he wants to take him out tonight to tie up all his loose ends.” “Well, if beating Flesher’s the only thing that’s going to make him sane again, I sure hope our insurance plan covers lots and lots of Prozac.” “And his opponent…” The SmarkTron flashes white, with the words “SUPERIORITY COMPLEX,” “MAGNIFICENT SEVEN” and “WORLD CHAMPION” fading onto it in thin blue letters. After a moment… BOOM! Led Zeppelin’s “Kashmir” explodes over the sound system along with a blast of blue pyro. As the smoke hangs in front of the entrance, “the Superior One” Tom Flesher steps through the cloud to a veritable chorus of boos. He stops at the top of the ramp, crossing his arms across his chest and letting only a small smile cross his lips. After a few seconds, he begins to strut down the ramp. “Tom Flesher’s defended the title successfully four times,” Bobby reminds all the fans. “Frost, Frost AND TNT, Danny Williams and Jay Dawg have all fallen before Flesher. Strangler’s not going to be any different.” Flesher climbs into the ring, wiping his feet on the apron and then lifting his warm-up top to take his SWF World Title belt off and sling it over his shoulder. He positions himself in the center just in time for the symphonic hook of “Kashmir” to blare, accompanied by bursts of blue and white pyro from each of the corners. As the music fades, Funyon begins his announcement. “Ladies and gentlemen, what you’ll see tonight is not so much a wrestling match as an exercise in human-primate relations. Here we have a brave, intelligent and damn good-looking technician…” Flesher winks and nods. “… taking on a hairy-backed elder gorilla who’s gotten complacent in his place at the head of the pack, despite never doing anything to earn it.” Flesher raises an eyebrow in mock interest and looks over at Strangler. “Tonight, in prime time, live and in color, we see this Gorilla in the Mist taking on 213 pounds of technical superiority, ‘the Superior One’ Tom FLESHER!” Flesher applauds himself, then goes to his corner and strips off his warm-up. He stretches out while the Boston Strangler stares across the ring at him and referee Mark Hebner holds the belt up in the air before calling for the bell. DING DING DING!!!!! Flesher looks up, only to see the Boston Strangler charging at him with a clothesline! Tom tries to duck, but Strangler connects, sending him crashing into the corner! Tom steps out, trying to make up his already lost ground, but the monster simply kicks him in the stomach! He follows that up with a stiff knee to the stomach and absolutely slams Flesher back against the turnbuckles. Tom throws a pair of wild palm strikes, trying to back Strangler off, but the Boston native just slams a forearm across Flesher’s jaw! As the sickening “CRACK!” echoes through the arena, the fans leap to their feet to applaud their wrestler and Flesher collapses to the mat! Strangler begins unloading stomps onto Flesher’s chest! “He’s stomping a mudhole in Flesher!” says Stevens, clearly pleased. “The Boston Strangler gets the early advantage, and you’ve gotta believe that the fans like this!” “Of course they like it, Stevens. They’re barely literate as it is, and they can identify with Strangler. I mean, if you had an IQ of sixteen and your name was something stupid like ‘Doug’ or ‘Albert,’ wouldn’t you think this big stiff was the greatest thing since sliced bread?” “… Doug?” “Canada. It’s an entire country named Doug McGee.” The Boston Strangler continues hammering Flesher’s chest with stomp after stomp, the crowd chanting and counting along with each one. Tom tries to block them, but TBS simply continues trying to crush his chest. Finally, Flesher does the only thing he can do and bails to the outside! The crowd goes wild! “Already, the Boston Strangler’s got Tom Flesher bailing to the floor,” says Mark Stevens. “There’s just no way Flesher can withstand this kind of relentless assault from the challenger. He’s just not that tough, Bobby.” “What you’re forgetting is that Flesher can absorb superhuman amounts of punishment. With all that extra muscle mass and his high threshold of pain, Tom Flesher’s put on shows before that would make any normal man turn up his toes and die. Frost and TNT have taken him to the limits, and he keeps coming back and kicking ass.” Strangler plays to the crowd for a few moments while Flesher walks around on the outside, shaking out his arms and trying to collect his thoughts. He walks from corner to corner, trying to formulate a game plan while the Boston Strangler stays in the ring, watching Flesher. The Champion finally slides back in as Mark Hebner reaches “SEVEN!” Strangler quickly comes over to the side of the ring and starts stomping away at Flesher! Tom tries to slide back out of the ring, but Strangler pulls him back toward the center and continues stomping. The World Champion tries to get to his feet, and the challenger takes advantage by grabbing his wrist and yanking him up, then putting him back down on the mat by nailing a short-arm clothesline with authority! Flesher lays on his back, stunned, and the Boston Strangler covers him for ONE!!!!! but Flesher kicks out! He sits up, and Strangler shifts behind him to one knee, locking on a reverse chinlock. Flesher immediately starts to struggle, but Strangler tightens the lock. “What the hell is he doing?” says Riley. “He needs a break already?” “Much like Tom Flesher’s headlock,” replies Stevens with quite a bit of condescension in his voice, “the Boston Strangler’s chinlock is a way to put pressure on the neck. He’s tightening the grip and trying to fatigue those muscles in Flesher’s neck to set him up for the Boston Massacre later in the match.” “Of course, that’s only if he can get his wind back,” Riley adds. “Since it’s really sad that he’s already so gassed that he needs to slap on a resthold.” “Do you listen to anything I say, Riley?” “Hm? Oh, sorry, I wasn’t paying attention.” Tom Flesher, still fighting to get out of the hold, tries to peel Strangler’s hands apart. He can’t manage it with one hand, and so he twists his body around and tries to break the grip with both hands. The Boston Strangler fights to keep his lock, but Flesher manages to work against his joints to break the lock. Quickly, Tom extends the left arm and spins out to the side. Using his momentum, he slides on the mat and comes up on top with a Fujiwara armbar! Strangler tries to break the hold, but Flesher quickly slides down his body and locks a scissors grip onto his left leg! With Strangler’s leg pinned, Tom reaches down to grab the ankle and lock on a half crab. Strangler, however, will have none of that, and he rolls to his back. He then mule-kicks Flesher with his free leg, sending him a few feet forward. Flesher turns around as the Boston Strangler charges at him and absolutely levels him with a clothesline! The crowd cheers appreciatively as Flesher arcs through the air and lands on his back. Strangler covers him and Mark Hebner counts ONE!!!!!!!!!!!! NO! Flesher kicks out once again. This time, he sits up and scoots backwards, with Mark Stevens pointing out, “Tom’s trying to avoid another chinlock, or any of the other grounded moves that TBS has added to his arsenal to combat Flesher’s mat wrestling expertise. He’s really been spending a lot of time watching his films lately and you know he’s come into the match today with quite a few tricks up his sleeve.” “Of course, if you really think he can remember everything that he planned, you’re giving him more credit than I am. Hell, Strangler got held up at the airport last night because he couldn’t remember how to spell his last name.” “That’s ridiculous!” “Hey, is it my fault he makes reservations for Albert Katowski?” Tom Flesher stands up after getting enough space between himself and his adversary. The challenger comes at him, looking for another powerful clothesline or kick, but Flesher cuts him off with a stiff shotei to the jaw that stops him in his tracks. The Boston native doesn’t show much pain, but at the same time doesn’t continue attacking. Sensing an opening, Flesher steps forward and throws another shotei, once again aiming for the jaw. With his opponent stunned, Tom then assumes his standard strategy and throws a hard kick that nails the monster in the thigh! Strangler absorbs the blow and pauses for a moment, then shakes his head as if to say, “What am I doing?” He throws a stiff kick to Flesher’s stomach, and the Champion doubles over in pain. He grabs Flesher by the head and slams him face-first into the nearest turnbuckle! Flesher’s head rebounds from the force, and the Boston Strangler grabs it again! This time he charges to one of the adjacent buckles, driving Flesher face-first into that one too! Flesher once again bounces back from the corner, falling backwards onto his back and then instinctively rolling to his stomach. The Boston Strangler grabs him by the waist and stands him up. Then, as the crowd cheers for the coming move, Strangler lifts Flesher up and turns him upside down! He quickly falls back, dropping Flesher head-first to the mat with a piledriver! The fans applaud as TBS goes for the pin once again. ONE!!!! TWO!!!!!!! KICKOUT! Flesher gets a shoulder up, and the Boston Strangler gets to his feet as Tom lays on the mat, his barrel chest heaving as his body tries to absorb the beating he’s taking. “Strangler didn’t jump up with that piledriver,” says Mark Stevens. “He might be conserving some of his energy for later on in the match… this one’s sure to go long.” “Highly doubtful,” says Riley with the tonal equivalent of an eyeroll. “Tom Flesher might take a beating early on, but that apeman’s going to get tired out regardless of how much he softens up his moves to try to save energy. Flesher looks like he’s doing the rope-a-dope right now, but before too long he’s going to have Strangler on his back to get the first fall, and then make him tap for the win a few minutes later.” Strangler, on his feet, reaches down to grab Flesher by the wrist. As he jerks the much-smaller World Champion to his feet, Strangler pivots and sends Flesher into the corner with a powerful Irish whip. Flesher impacts the buckles and starts to stagger out, but the Boston Strangler steps in and sends him back into the corner with a well-placed kick to the chest. Flesher slumps down, and the challenger pauses to measure up the distance. He holds up his hands, framing Flesher’s head between his thumbs, and then steps in, satisfied enough to slam an elbow into the side of the Champion’s head! The fans applaud Strangler’s moment of cockiness, but he quickly resumes his all-business attitude. He quickly throws a few punches into Flesher’s body, then grabs him by the wrist and moves to whip him into the opposite corner. Flesher resists, planting his Doc Martens on the mat and pivoting to reverse the whip. Strangler makes use of his significant weight advantage, though, and stops in his tracks. He pulls Flesher in and ducks down to pick him up with a fireman’s carry! Flesher’s eyes open wide, showing his shock at being caught. That expression doesn’t last long, though, as Strangler simply shrugs him into the air and drops him across his knee with a gutbuster! Flesher grabs his stomach and rolls to the mat while the Boston Strangler smiles slightly. The fans, supporting him, start their chant of “TBS! TBS!” once again. As the camera shows the cheering fans (along with a quick pan of the Craven Section, where everyone’s nose is conspicuously buried in a newspaper), Mark Stevens says, “That’s going to hurt Flesher’s advances considerably. As tough as he might be, you just can’t expect him to take beatings like that.” “Come on, Jay Dawg and Danny both-” “Jay Dawg and Danny Williams didn’t practically murder him for minutes on end. Flesher’s gotten almost no offense in, and it’s going to take divine intervention to keep Strangler from walking away with the first fall and a huge edge going into the second.” After a moment, Strangler reaches down and grabs Flesher by the head, lifting him into a front facelock. As he brandishes his elbow, Mark Stevens shouts, “He’s going for the Lobotomy! There’s just no way Flesher can take this and kick out! Not after the beating he’s taken!” Strangler starts to spin for the elbowsmash to the back of the head, but Tom Flesher reaches up and grabs him by the head, then quickly rolls to the side and hooks his legs in a small package! Mark Hebner counts ONE!!!! TWO!!!!!! THREE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! DING DING DING!!!! Flesher rolls away quickly, sliding out of the ring as Funyon announces, “The winner of the first fall… TOM FLESHER!” The crowd boos loudly as Strangler looks up, shock and betrayal written on his face. Mark Hebner holds up the three fingers to signal a fair count, and Mark Stevens says, “Tom Flesher shocks the Boston Strangler with a small package to take the first fall of this two-out-of-three encounter!” “HA! You dared to doubt the genius that is Tom Flesher?!” Riley seems ready to pop the cork already. “That’s it, Flesher’s going to take this in two.” “Don’t start celebrating yet, Bobby. Flesher took a tremendous beating already, and Strangler doesn’t look like he’s about to relax.” Flesher rolls back into the ring and assumes his stance in the center, smirking as the Strangler shakes off the doubt and tries to collect his thoughts for the next fall. DING DING DING!!! “And the second fall is underway,” says Stevens. Flesher’s smirk is absolutely sickening, the smarmy smile irritating the audience, and without a doubt Strangler too. Strangler, though, just tries to get over the shock of the flash pin. “That pin wasn’t conclusive by any stretch of the imagination,” Stevens continues, “and I’m sure that the Boston Strangler’s going to make sure that Flesher knows that.” “Oh, come on, Marky Mark. It was a clear, clean pin… Strangler’s shoulders were down for three, and Flesher was on top. What’s to argue about?” “Strangler dominated the whole fall!” “And Flesher was smart enough to keep a move in reserve for the finish,” says Riley smugly. “I don’t see what you’re so bent out of shape about.” Finally, Strangler gets to his feet and moves to the center of the ring. Before the powerful Bostonian can grab Flesher into a lockup, Tom lowers his level and shoots into Strangler for a double-leg takedown! Strangler manages to block Flesher off with his forearms, though, and sprawl back to keep the classically trained worker from grabbing his legs. Extending Flesher’s body to keep him from following up with another shot, the Boston Strangler takes control of Flesher by slapping on a front facelock. Flesher tries to block the hold, but Strangler cinches it in and pulls his elbows into his ribs to tighten it. He stands up, pulling Flesher to his feet as well, and just stays in place for a moment or two. “You’ll notice,” notes Stevens, “that because of the huge gap in height, the Boston Strangler’s going to have an easier time using the front facelock, which is generally from Tom Flesher’s arsenal, than Flesher will. In order to cut off the air flow, Flesher generally has to pop his hips in to push his opponent’s head down and put the chin into the chest. Strangler can accomplish the same thing with much less effort simply because he’s that much taller.” “Oh, stop encouraging him!” spits Riley. “That’s an illegal chokehold – you said yourself he’s cutting off Flesher’s air flow, and anyone who’s ever been in one of those knows that the point is to cut off the blood flow to the brain. Mark Hebner should be stepping in to stop this any second.” Strangler doesn’t give the referee the chance to order him to break the hold, though. He quickly rolls to the side, taking Flesher with him in a picture-perfect swinging neckbreaker! Flesher hits the mat hard and sits up by reflex, but the Boston Strangler immediately slaps on another reverse chinlock! The fans pop as Tom Flesher struggles, trying to break free. “Here he goes again,” whines Riley. “I swear, if the fans wanted to see a big ugly gorilla laying around, they’d go to the zoo.” “Tell you what, Bobby. When Flesher makes it out of this hold, THEN we’ll talk about what the fans are paying to see.” Flesher reaches up, trying to break the hold again. The Boston Strangler makes it considerably harder this time, keeping his grip tight even as Flesher reaches up with both hands. He flexes his biceps, increasing the pressure on the World Champion’s neck. Flesher starts to turn slightly red due to the restricted blood flow out of his head, and referee Mark Hebner steps in. “He better make sure that’s not a chokehold!” says Riley. “You’re grasping at straws, Bobby. That hold’s as legal as a wristlock, and you know it.” “Yeah? Well since when can you just walk up to someone and do a wristlock? Huh?” “You’re just saying that because Flesher doesn’t use them.” “If Flesher doesn’t do it, it’s not a real technique, Mark. That’s the most important rule of professional wrestling.” Mark Hebner checks the hold and okays it, giving Strangler the chance to tighten it even further. Flesher struggles, writhing on the mat to try to create space between his neck and Strangler’s arm. The Boston Strangler, living up to his name, just continues pressuring Flesher’s neck. Getting desperate, Flesher tries to scoot to the ropes, but Strangler is just too heavy for him to move. He tries turning in both directions, but just finds that doing so allows Strangler to increase the pressure even more. Finally, in a last-grasp move to save his own neck (literally!), Flesher reaches up and pops Strangler in the face with a closed fist! Strangler eases the hold for a second as he reaches up to grab his nose, and Flesher takes the opportunity to grab his arm and spin out to the side! Strangler follows him, though, and hammers him over the head with a bionic elbow! Flesher crumbles to the mat, and Strangler covers him for ONE!!!!!! TWO!!!!!!!!!! NO! Flesher kicks out, narrowly avoiding giving up a second straight fall. He rolls away, facing Strangler to keep from getting tied up in another chinlock. He pauses to crack his neck, and the Boston Strangler jumps on the chance to slap on a front facelock! The fans pop for the new offense tailored to neutralize and fatigue Flesher. “The Boston Strangler’s doing an excellent job with Tom Flesher,” says Mark Stevens. “It’s obvious from his offense today that he has indeed been in the classroom, watching his videos, making sure he knew exactly what the World Champ was bringing to the table. Sure, these are moves we don’t see him using often, maybe never, but he’s been training for Tom Flesher nonstop since his return! You have to be impressed with that level of dedication, Bobby.” Riley just grunts in a dissatisfied manner. Strangler keeps the front facelock secure, but Flesher reaches up and locks onto Strangler’s left elbow. Using the classical counter to the move, Flesher throws the elbow by and spins out, falling to the mat and pulling Strangler down into a hammerlock! He cements his position of control, pausing to readjust his placement and making sure he makes his opponent carry as much weight as possible. He reaches down and plants his hand on the mat, seemingly going for a Superior Stretch Beta, but at the last second switches his arm to the other side of Strangler’s head and locks on a crossface instead. “Flesher gets the crossface instead of the Superior Stretch Beta,” says Riley. “Showing the utmost confidence, he’s now going to get the submission with someone else’s hold entirely. It’s like a less-effective version of Ejiro Fasaki’s Cobra Crossface.” “Flesher’s actually going for the crossface because he knows he’s not going to get the submission here,” replies Stevens. “I’m sure he doesn’t want to waste his strength fighting to get Strangler into the Superior Stretch Beta, then waste even more strength keeping him in it, only to have Godzilla himself bust out of it. That’s just not smart wrestling.” “Pfft,” spits Riley. “What do you know about smart wrestling?” “I know enough to be a two-time SWF World Champion. How about you?” “Shut up.” Stevens, it seems, knows that Riley’s a little shy about his gold medal from Gay Games 2000. Flesher tries to crank the hold, but Strangler spreads his legs apart, braces his head on the mat and builds up to a tripod base with his hips in the air. Flesher tries to jack up his head and arm to take away the base, but Strangler moves too quickly for him and pulls out, coming up behind Flesher! Tom bellies out to avoid getting caught in a bad position or, worse yet, another chinlock. Strangler is, however, prepared. He reaches down, catching Flesher’s hips before they hit the mat and locking on a waistlock! The crowd goes wild! “That may be the first time we’ve seen Strangler pull off a counter like that!” says Mark Stevens. “I didn’t know he had it in him!” “He got lucky,” grizzles Riley. “Let’s see him do that again.” Flesher tries to hug the mat, but Strangler stands up behind him and lifts him up by the hips. Knowing that nothing can come of this except a sickening German suplex, Flesher swings his legs down and sinks his hips to avoid being lifted and thrown in one fell swoop. He tries to fight off the challenger and escape, but Strangler tightens his waistlock even further! Flesher has no choice but to go for a standing switch! He switches, ending up behind the surprised Strangler! “Looks like Strangler’s shiny new ‘technique’ isn’t helping him much tonight,” snickers Riley. “Oh, of course not,” says Stevens bitingly. “He hasn’t worn Flesher down at all. No, he hasn’t controlled the majority of the match, not will he continue to do so. Nope, Strangler’s just a big, untalented lug. Now let’s go out for barbeque.” “Sounds good. I’ll have a pulled pork sandwich.” Strangler, after realizing what happened, starts a switch, but isn’t as quick with the Greco-Roman maneuver as Flesher was. Flesher, consequently, has the time to drop down and grab Strangler’s ankle. He stands up, picking the leg out from under the monster and taking him to the mat. Flesher pulls the leg up, clamping on an ankle lock and stepping over it to block Strangler from somersaulting to break the hold. “Odd choice of moves,” says Bobby Riley. “This doesn’t really fit in with Flesher’s offense thus far.” “That’s because Strangler’s got Flesher off his game, and the so-called Superior One’s grasping for any move he can hit. He doesn’t have the luxury of a straight-up game plan. He needs to grab any offense he can find and use that as best he can, or else Strangler’s just going to keep rolling over him.” Flesher keeps the ankle lock cinched on as Strangler makes a dash for the ropes. His strength makes it easy for him to pull both himself and Flesher to the ropes, and he easily grabs the bottom strand. Mark Hebner administers the standard five-count… ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR! Just as Hebner holds up the fifth finger, Flesher drops the Boston Strangler’s leg to the mat and steps away. Strangler stands up, not even shaking out the ankle before moving in on Flesher. Flesher strikes him with a shotei that stops him in his tracks, though! Strangler eats the blow, but grabs Flesher and clobbers him with a series of sledgehammer-like fists! Flesher staggers backwards after each punch, finally coming to a stationary wobble in the center of the ring. Strangler steps around him adeptly, grabbing him by the chin and standing side-by-side, then grapevines the near leg and falls back with a Russian legsweep! The crowd goes absolutely wild! “The Boston Strangler once again takes advantage of the size differential, slamming Tom Flesher to the mat with a Russian legsweep, another of the moves that we haven’t seen from him before!” says Mark Stevens. “That’s just a devastating move that snaps the neck and knocks the wind right out of the victim.” Strangler rolls onto Flesher, not hooking the leg but simply smothering him as Mark Hebner counts ONE!!!!!!!! TWO!!!!!!!!!!!! THREE- NO!!!!!!! Flesher gets a shoulder up, and the crowd groans with disappointment. “HA!” says Bobby Riley. “Strangler can’t do it!” “He’s going to have to,” says Stevens. “Flesher caught him off-guard in the first fall, and that put Strangler in the unenviable position of having to get two straight pins… but he’s been dominating this match from the opening bell. Once he hits that first pin, Flesher’s going to be so demoralized that it’ll just be a matter of time.” “And what makes you so sure Strangler’s going to win a fall at all?” “Well…” says Stevens. Strangler stands up, with Flesher still laying flat on his back. He takes a moment to plan out his attack, and then jumps into the air with his elbow cocked! As he comes crashing down, Flesher rolls out of the way, and the Boston Strangler hits the mat! With the wind knocked out of him, Strangler lays on the mat for a few seconds while Flesher sits up and shakes off the cobwebs. “He may have waited a few seconds too long,” says Stevens. “Flesher can capitalize on this if he’s able to.” “Of course he’s able to,” says Riley. “He’s superior.” Strangler starts to push to his feet, but Flesher gets up faster. He sees Strangler ready to get up and quickly dives in to pick the left leg out from under him. Strangler hits the mat again, and Flesher extends the left leg. He turns and quickly drops an elbow into the side of the knee, wrenching it out of joint! He pauses, turning the leg against the joint… but waits a second too long, and Strangler locks on a scissors grip! Flesher lets out a shout as he feels the wind being squeezed from his body, and immediately goes to work breaking the grip. He tries to peel Strangler’s ankles apart, but fails to do so. As Mark Stevens points out with just a bit too much enjoyment, “Tom’s not going to be able to do that. Even on people of equal size, the leg muscles are just so much stronger than the arm muscles… and Strangler’s twice the size of Flesher! That’s just a waste of energy.” Flesher continues trying to break the grip, now moving to elbowing the left knee. That doesn’t accomplish anything, and Strangler reaches up for Flesher’s neck. “He’s already got the bodyscissors,” continues Stevens. “Getting the sleeper would put Flesher out for sure! You can’t break a douishime sleeper!” “Flesher would find a way!” shouts Riley heroically. “… wouldn’t he?” As Strangler struggles to grab Flesher's neck and lock on the sleeper, Flesher finally moves to a last-grasp attempt to save the fall and starts elbowing wildly at Strangler's thigh. The challenger tries to keep the scissors grip, but Flesher continues slamming his elbow into the muscle until finally the giant from New England has to relent. Flesher keeps his grip on the ankle and slides away, getting back to his feet and showing his anger by releasing a series of quick kicks to Strangler's hamstring. As Strangler tries to pull away, Flesher slams one more stiff kick into the hamstring and locks his arm tightly around the ankle. Using all his strength, Tom steps over, locking on the half-crab! “Flesher got lucky there, plain and simple,” says Stevens. “If he'd waited another second, Strangler would have gotten that bodyscissors sleeper locked on and put Flesher out like a light.” “You're not giving him any credit,” says Riley. “It's like you think Flesher's got no talent, that he's a glorified punching bag. Well I'll tell you something, Mark, Tom Flesher is the World Champion, the leader of the Magnificent Seven, for a REASON!” “And the Boston Strangler's been studying him for months! Have you ever seen Strangler go for a douishime sleeper? No! He's evolving to match Flesher, and I think he's got this one won!” Flesher holds Strangler's leg and starts stepping backwards, sharpening the angle of the half crab with each step back. Strangler, meanwhile, pulls himself along the mat, trying to get to the ropes and break the hold. Flesher continues stepping back, trying to fold the Boston Strangler in half, and Strangler just continues fighting. “The key here,” says Stevens as Flesher tightens the half crab, “is that the Boston Strangler just isn't as flexible as most of Flesher's opponents. Flesher's going to have more trouble initially getting the move applied, but as he pulls that leg back, he's putting Strangler in danger of some severe muscle damage.” “Like a quad tear?” “No, that'd just be silly.” Flesher steps back one more time, nearly folding Strangler in half with the half crab by planting one foot firmly on his head! The fans loudly boo this exercise in conceit, and Strangler looks even more uncomfortable. He reaches out, extending his arm one last time, and grabs the bottom rope! The crowd pops like crazy for him as Mark Hebner administers the five-count. ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR! Finally, Flesher steps away, and the Boston Strangler takes a second to shake his leg out. “Flesher takes the advantage for the first time,” says Riley. “Although to be fair, he's had the mental advantage since the day he was born.” Tom Flesher steps back to the center of the ring, making sure to keep a defensive stance. The Boston Strangler gets back to his feet, being very careful to shake out the charley horse in his left thigh before going back to the center. Flesher immediately starts throwing palm strikes, landing a few stiff strikes as Strangler backs away. Strangler answers back with a hard, club-like punch to Flesher's neck! Flesher, caught off-guard, stumbles backwards, and Strangler clobbers him again! Flesher tries to throw another strike, but just can't land them! Strangler throws one more sledgehammer-like strike and sends Flesher into the corner, to a huge cheer from the crowd! “Flesher gives up the edge due mostly to his inability to remember that Strangler has an enormous reach advantage!” says Mark Stevens. “Tom doesn't get in striking battles very often, and he got cocky! Admit it, Bobby, that was a stupid move.” “Oh, bullshit,” says Riley, reminding us that we’re on pay-per-view. “Strangler's fighting like he's on the streets of Southie, and so he doesn't need to think about anything. As soon as Flesher gets him back on the mat, this one's over. I promise you.” Tom comes staggering out of the corner not entirely sure what's going on. Strangler quickly grabs him by the neck and lifts him up as the crowd explodes! Flesher struggles, trying to fight his way out of the Boston Strangler's grip! He flails his arms and legs, throws wild palm strikes and even tries to peel Strangler's huge hand off his neck, but to no avail! Strangler lifts him into the air, spins around and slams him to the mat with the vicious chokeslam known as The Plunge! The THUD of Flesher's 213-pound carcass hitting the mat echoes through the Saddledome and prompts another cheer from the jam-packed crowd as Strangler scoops Flesher's leg for the cover! Mark Hebner counts ONE!!! TWO!!!!!! THREE!!!!!!!!! - NO! FLESHER GETS A SHOULDER UP! Strangler looks at the senior official in disbelief, and Flesher simply lays on the mat. As Strangler angrily slaps his hands together three times, Flesher rolls to the side, sliding out of the ring to grab a breather. “Oh, come on!” shouts Stevens. “He had him!” “Mark Hebner is a competent official, Grand Slam,” says Riley obsequiously. “I'm sure our commissioner has the utmost confidence in him and would only assign extremely talented referees to World Title matches.” “Just last week you were telling me Hebner was a mongoloid who wears days-of-the-week underwear!” “That was after he took the last Danish at the production meeting.” Flesher walks between the cornerposts on the outside, trying to come up with a new game plan on the fly. When Strangler finishes his protest and realizes he's not going to get the call overturned, he turns his attention back to Flesher and follows him to the outside. Flesher sees him coming and his face falls, his expression seeming to say "I don't need this." Before he can get away, though, Strangler hammers him with a stiff right hand that pops the crowd and nearly takes Flesher off his feet. The challenger grabs Tom by his wrist and starts to whip him to the steel ringpost, but Tom shifts his weight, plants his feet and catches Strangler off-guard by reversing the whip! He goes careening into the steel, and Flesher follows him in, looking for his brutal Yakuza kick against the ringpost! Strangler, seeming to act on instinct, ducks down, and Flesher's foot whiffs to the side. Strangler pops back up to his feet as Flesher regains his balance and throws a stiff right cross at Flesher. Tom narrowly dodges the blow as he turns, though, and uses the momentum to follow through into a roaring shotei! Strangler abruptly steps backwards and drops to one knee from the shock, and Flesher uses the position to nail him with a charging Yakuza kick! The Boston Strangler falls to the concrete, and Flesher lifts him back p to roll him into the ring. “That was brutal!” says Riley. “Whip to the ringpost, then a roaring shotei, and then a Yakuza kick! Strangler's lucky to be alive!” “The Boston Strangler's just unbelievably tough, though,” Mark Stevens reminds the viewing audience. “He's kicked out of things that would kill any normal man, and gotten up to win the fight.” “Yeah, but those were against mortals. This is Tom Flesher we're talking about.” Flesher drags Strangler to the center of the ring and takes a few seconds, deciding exactly how to make the cover. Finally, he drops over Strangler on one knee, with both biceps flexed. Riley says, “Excellent choice! Now let's finish this off!” as Mark Hebner counts ONE!!!!!!! TWO!!!!!!!!!! THREE!!!!!!!!!!!! NO!!!!!!! The Boston Strangler kicks out, and Tom Flesher looks like he's going to kill the official! He looks down at the still-stunned Strangler, then up at the official, and back down at Strangler before getting back to his feet. He reaches down, grabbing Strangler by the ankle and roughly turning him into another half crab! Strangler struggles, and Flesher starts walking backwards once again. Strangler, moving instinctively to the edge of the ring, flails and tries to kick Flesher off. Flesher keeps trying to crank the hold, but Strangler finally reaches the bottom rope! Disgusted, Flesher throws the leg back down to the mat and stomps back to the center. “Flesher's angry with Mark Hebner about that call,” says Riley, “and who can blame him? I mean, you've got Flesher on top, Strangler out cold, and some guy in the ring who's too busy jerking off to make the count! What the hell is that?!” “Just a few minutes ago you wanted to canonize him!” “That was when he was competent!” Strangler takes a few seconds to get up, using the ropes to help get his giant body off the mat and back to a vertical base. Flesher gets into his stance in the middle of the ring, and as Strangler gets to the center, Flesher ducks down and nails him with a double leg takedown so forceful that it nearly knocks him out of the ring! Strangler keeps his balance, though, and Flesher backs off to create space. As Strangler tries to get into some semblance of a stance, Flesher rocks him with another double leg that takes Strangler to the mat! He grabs Strangler's legs and crosses them to a huge, angry groan from the crowd. “Here it comes!” says Riley. “It's the Superior Stretch! This one's over! Two straight falls!” Flesher locks the legs together and starts fighting to turn Strangler onto his stomach. The enormous fighter refuses to go easily, though, and starts kicking his tree trunk legs wildly! Flesher tries to keep Strangler's knees locked together, but Strangler's legs are just too strong for him! Finally, the challenger kicks the Champion away! Strangler rolls onto his knees and, frustrated, Flesher charges at him and nails him with another Yakuza kick! Strangler falls forward, but Flesher yanks him back up! He steps between Strangler's legs, forcing him down into a seated position and prompting a wave of boos. Strangler fights back, not quite sure what’s happening but certain he doesn’t want to get caught. Flesher stiffly elbows him in the face, trying to force his head back in a reverse facelock and pulling Strangler’s arm out to try to lock on his version of William Hearford’s “Held Without Bail” stretch plum! Strangler fights against it, though, and absolutely refuses to let Flesher cinch on the hold! He draws his left arm in and grabs Flesher’s right arm to keep him from securing the facelock, then yanks him matward with such force that Flesher lands face-down! Strangler keeps his grip on the right arm and slides across Flesher’s back, locking on a camel clutch! The crowd, simply put, explodes! “The Boston Strangler’s got Tom Flesher on the mat, in a camel clutch!” shouts Mark Stevens, practically soiling himself. “Say what you will about Strangler, he’s really been putting effort into getting into Tom Flesher’s head!” Flesher doesn’t appreciate the effort, though, as he simply struggles, groans, grunts and tries in vain to escape. He manages to get his right arm free and jerk it forward, pulling himself a few feet closer to the ropes. Strangler follows him, pulling the arm back over his knee and sadistically yanking Flesher’s neck even further back! Tom struggles, this time getting his left arm free! He extends his arm, once again pulling himself a few more feet toward the ropes. Strangler follows him again, trying to yank him back into the camel clutch again, but Flesher wriggles away and scoots a few more feet to the side of the ring, wrapping both his hands around the bottom rope! Strangler releases Flesher as the referee makes the count, and Flesher hugs the ropes. As Flesher tries to stall, the Boston Strangler decides he’s had enough shit and grabs him by the waist! Flesher’s eyes open up wide as the shock of being lifted into the air catches him by surprise. He tries to hold on to the ropes, and when that fails, he goes for a standing switch, but Strangler’s just too strong! He lifts Flesher into the air and releases him for a German suplex, but Flesher rolls through and slides down Strangler’s back! The crowd boos with a loud, intense anger as Flesher drops down to pick Strangler’s knee again! This time, though, Strangler is ready for the knee pick and spins around, then drops a knee down onto Flesher’s back! “What an innovative counter by the Boston Strangler!” says Mark Stevens. “Tom Flesher didn’t get his grip high enough, and the Strangler was able to turn around and hit that knee drop! Flesher’s in trouble now!” “You’re just saying that because it’s commercial.” Strangler lifts Flesher up and whips him to the ropes. The bleary Flesher hits the ropes and sees Strangler charging at him. On instinct alone, Flesher ducks a clothesline and hits the opposite ropes. Strangler turns around, and… SMACK!!!!!!!! walks right into a Yakuza kick! As soon as Flesher’s boot hits him in the sternum, Strangler staggers backwards, threatening to fall down… and Flesher helps him along with a jumping palm blow to the jaw! Strangler falls over like an ancient redwood collapsing, and Bobby Riley shouts, “TIMBERRRRRRRRRRRR!” Flesher immediately dives onto Strangler, and Mark Hebner counts ONE!!!!!! TWO!!!!!!!!!! THREE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! NO!!!!!!! Strangler gets a shoulder off the mat, and Flesher backs away, seeming to have known he wasn’t going to get the fall. Instead, as the Boston Strangler rolls to his stomach, Flesher dives onto him and slaps on a front facelock! “Now THIS is how you do a grovit,” says Riley. “Strangler was doing it all wrong earlier tonight.” “So you’re saying Flesher’s going to choke him out?” sighs Stevens. “Of course not, Mark. That would be unethical. All he’s going to do is get a perfectly legitimate submission.” Flesher tightens his grip and pulls his elbows into his ribs, compressing Strangler’s neck against itself to cut off the blood flow to his brain. Instead of standing up to push the giant’s chin into his chest, though, Flesher stays sprawled on the mat and starts throwing stiff knee strikes to Strangler’s head! The crowd cringes with each one as Flesher lands a second, a third, a fourth, and finally a fifth knee to the head! He releases the front facelock, and Strangler collapses to the mat like a jello mold in the shape of an enormous Bostonian psychopath. With that, he rolls Strangler onto his stomach and pauses a moment before he covers him, taking an extra second this time to hook the leg. Mark Hebner counts ONE!!!!!!! TWO!!!!!!!!! THREE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! NO!!!!!!!!!! Strangler kicks out, seeming to be getting his second wind in the match despite the beating Flesher’s laying on him at the moment. The fans see this and start chanting for him, breaking out their “TBS! TBS!” chant once again as the Boston Strangler sits up and tries to get his wits about him. “I tell you, Bobby, the Boston Strangler’s just so incredibly tough! I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again… Strangler’s got what it takes to go home with the title tonight!” “It’s gonna take a little more than a kickout here and there to win it, Stevens.” Flesher comes up behind Strangler and kicks him stiffly in the spine, sending a “THWACK!” echoing through the arena. Then, just as he did before, Flesher steps between Strangler’s legs and starts working for a reverse facelock. “This is it!” says Riley. “He couldn’t get Held Without Bail earlier, but now that he’s got Strangler out of it, he’s going to lock on the hold! You can’t break this one, Mark! Not once it’s on!” “Well, then Strangler’s just got to keep him from tightening it, doesn’t he?” says Stevens sarcastically. “Bobby, I like to give the fans a little more credit than that.” “Come on, they’re cheering Strangler. What do they know?” The crowd continues chanting… “TBS! TBS!” Flesher struggles to get the stretch plum locked on, but Strangler simply refuses to cooperate, fighting every step of the way and making sure the relatively weak Flesher can’t get into a position of leverage. Strangler keeps fighting as he carefully slides one knee under his body, and then moves from his seated position to a crouch. Flesher, not quite sure what’s happening, tries to stay on the mat, but Strangler throws a punch over his shoulder that stuns him momentarily! Finally, Strangler stands up with Flesher over his left shoulder, and then reaches under his arms, holding him in the air in a reverse crucifix! “What the hell is he…?” says Stevens, but Strangler cuts him off by flipping Flesher forward and sitting out, hitting an Iconoclasm in the center of the ring! The fans drop their “TBS!” chant abruptly in favor of “OH MY GOD! OH MY GOD!” as Strangler pulls Flesher’s legs back to cradle him for ONE!!!!!!!! TWO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! THREE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! DING DING DING!!!!! “The winner of the second fall… THE BOSTON STRANGLER!” “Strangler takes this one away with a mid-ring Southie Slam!” says Stevens. “Unbelieveable! It was like he pulled the strength out of nowhere!” “Is that legal?!” shouts Riley as Strangler gets back to his feet to acknowledge the cheering crowd. “That’s illegal! Come on, Mark, tell ’em that’s illegal!” “It’s as legal as a piledriver, you idiot!” “I didn’t know we were in Memphis.” Flesher gets back up, still a little groggy but shaking off the haze. Once he gets back to his feet, Mark Hebner calls for the bell to start the third and deciding fall. DING DING DING!!!!! Just as the bell rings, Strangler charges at Flesher once again, hoping to start the third fall just as he started the first! Flesher sees him coming, but can’t duck out of the way and eats Strangler’s clothesline! The Boston Strangler sends Flesher to the mat, but picks him back up and heaves him over the top rope! He looks across the ring… and smiles. “Oh, sweet Jesus,” murmurs Riley. “No good can come of this.” Strangler sprints across the ring as Flesher gets to his feet on the concrete. Strangler bounces off the ropes and picks up speed as Flesher looks up, practically shitting his pants when he sees the enormous New Englander vault over the top rope! Flesher does the only thing he can do… Sidesteps. CRASH. “Strangler vaults over the top rope and misses!” says Stevens. “Jesus, Bobby, he could be dead!” “Correction, Mark. He didn’t miss. Flesher moved.” Flesher slides into the ring to break the count and looks out as the Boston Strangler, incredibly, starts to his feet! Flesher doesn’t seem shocked, though, knowing as he does about Strangler’s toughness. Instead, he simply grabs onto the middle rope. As Strangler stands up, Flesher swings out, slamming both Doc Martens into the Bostonian’s face with a baseball slide dropkick! Strangler goes back down to the concrete, but Flesher doesn’t follow him out. Instead, he once again grabs onto the middle rope. As soon as Strangler’s head comes over the horizon of the apron, Flesher throws another dropkick, but spreads his legs and locks on a headscissors instead! Laying flat on the mat, Flesher log rolls toward the corner, torquing Strangler’s neck and throwing him head-over back to the concrete with a lazy man’s flying headscissors! The crowd boos as Strangler hits the concrete once more, but Bobby Riley is duly impressed. “Oh my god!” he screams. “That was incredible, Mark! Flesher’s not just an amazing worker, he’s inventing moves as he goes along. He’s revolutionizing the sport of wrestling!” “That won’t do him much good if he gets stuck by Strangler in the third, Bobby.” “But he won’t! He’s just destroying that big oaf!” Flesher slides out of the ring only to roll Strangler back in and follow him. Instead of going for the cover, though, Flesher grabs Strangler and whips him to the corner. He follows the gigantic challenger in, springs clumsily off the bottom rope and lands a stiff kick to the thigh! Flesher then continues throwing kicks to the muscle of the left thigh. Even as Strangler throws wild punches trying to throw him off, Flesher simply extends his leg and continues bruising Strangler’s quad! “Flesher’s really putting the rest of the match to use now,” says Riley. “Now he’s kicking, instead of punching, because he got screwed by Strangler’s reach advantage early on. He’s not letting Strangler use that advantage again.” With Strangler in the corner, Flesher starts to lift him to the top rope for the Boilermaker! Strangler, however, will have none of that, and clubs Flesher’s neck with a sledgehammer fist! Flesher takes a step backwards, and Strangler lunges forward with a clothesline! He shakes his leg out for a second before grabbing Flesher from behind and locking on a full nelson! As the crowd cheers, he lifts Flesher into the air, then slams him to the mat with a sickening full nelson atomic drop! Flesher bounces off the mat, and Strangler throws him back down for ONE!!!!!!! TWO!!!!!!!!!!!!!! THREE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! NO! Tom Flesher gets a shoulder up, and the Boston Strangler’s face gets even more determined. Flesher sits up, and immediately Strangler takes a step backwards and locks on a double underhook. Once again, this prompts a cheer from the crowd, knowing they’re about to see his trademark Lights Out double-arm DDT! He stands up, ready to execute the fall, but Flesher lets his right arm go limp and slides it down out of the underhook in a classical-style counter! He drops to one knee, then picks Strangler’s ankle and sends him spilling to the mat! Instead of following it up, though, Flesher backs away. “Flesher changes strategies on the fly,” says Mark Stevens. “You know there’s something wrong with him when this late in the game he’s switching off.” “No, Mark, he’s making a smart move. Strangler showed him at the end of the last fall that he might be too strong to work on the mat, but Flesher’s been doing better on his feet. It’s simple, really.” “So you’re saying that Flesher’s giving up his better position in order to get creamed in Strangler’s position of advantage?” “Why do you have to go and put words in my mouth like that, Mark? Why?” Strangler gets up to his feet again, but as soon as he does, Flesher jumps up and nails him in the knee with a dropkick! Strangler tumbles back to the mat, and as Flesher smirks, he notices the challenger looking a little gassed. With that in mind, Flesher drops down onto him and locks on another front facelock. “Now THIS is a resthold,” says Mark Stevens. “For Flesher, maybe,” replies Riley. “But for Strangler, it’s devastating. He’s carrying Flesher’s weight, he’s got his neck being compressed… it’s really a difficult hold to handle, Mark. Much like Flesher’s side headlock, which he hasn’t used tonight.” “Well,” says Stevens, rolling his eyes, “maybe he knew Strangler was ready for it.” “My thoughts exactly. Strangler backdropped him last time, and it’d be kind of silly to do it again.” Strangler isn’t about to go down to a resthold, though. Not in his first World Title match, and not in the match where he finally gets to settle things with the ersatz leader of the Magnificent Seven. He gathers up all his strength, then, with a huge growl, drives forward and slams Flesher to the mat, mounting him and unloading punch after punch on the shocked World Champion! Flesher tries to block the punches, but Strangler just hammers him with his stone fists! Finally, with nowhere else to go, Flesher slides away into the nearest corner. He stands up, with Strangler still clobbering him with angry blows until Mark Hebner steps in and forces a rope break! Strangler backs away to the center of the ring, and Mark Hebner moves out of the way. Instantly, Strangler charges for the corner! He throws all his weight behind a running shoulder strike… but Flesher moves out of the way! Strangler runs shoulder-first into the steel ringpost, and Flesher steps into the corner as Strangler turns around. WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! WHACK! Flesher throws a series of vicious kicks to Strangler’s thigh, once again working to injure the leg as much as he can with blows thrown in wherever he can. “All those kicks add up, Mark,” says Bobby Riley. “Tom Flesher’s throwing those kicks in any time he gets the chance, and you have to admit it’s getting a lot harder for Strangler to fight him off.” “Of course, you could say the same thing about all of Strangler’s work on Flesher’s neck. This has turned into a one-fall match, Bobby, but these guys aren’t fresh coming in. They’re playing to each other’s strengths and weaknesses. I’ll tell you, they’ve learned more about each other in this ring tonight than they did all the past few months, the past few weeks of studying each other.” Strangler finally retracts his leg and shoves Flesher away. Lying in wait like a snake in the grass, Flesher pulls away and moves down the side of the ring. Strangler starts out of the corner, and Flesher steps in and kicks his knee out from under him! He shoves Strangler back into the corner, steps in, and with an acidic smirk, plants his boot on Strangler’s face. The fans begin to boo loudly. “No, Tom, don’t do this,” pleads Mark Stevens, knowing full well that Flesher can’t hear him. “There’s no need for this!” “Why not?” shrugs Riley. “Strangler wanted a shot, and now Flesher’s giving him what he came for – a beating, an embarrassment and a check in the loss column.” Flesher kicks his foot forward, scraping it across the Boston Strangler’s scarred, mangled face. He draws his foot back, ready to scrape Strangler’s face again… but the New England giant catches his boot! Flesher, caught by surprise, tries to back away, but Strangler stands up, still holding Flesher’s foot! He quickly sweeps Flesher’s leg out from under him, and falls into a classical Greco-Roman style stance! “What the hell is Strangler doing?!” says Riley. “It looks like he’s digging down as deep as he can, and he’s about to put some of those techniques he learned over the past six months to use!” Flesher gets back to his feet, and the enormous Strangler steps in behind him. Flesher tries to turn around and face his adversary, but Strangler quickly stops him from doing that by reaching around him and crossing his arms across his stomach! The fans go absolutely wild as Strangler locks Flesher in the straitjacket position! Flesher tries to struggle away, but Strangler simply lifts him and starts walking backwards to set up the bridge. Finally, as Flesher’s face turns into a mask of horror, Strangler arches his back, sending Flesher flying backward in a textbook Straitjacket suplex! As Flesher lands stiffly on his neck and shoulders, the fans burst into a chant of “TBS! TBS!” and Mark Hebner drops down to count the pin! … Unfortunately, he can’t make the count, because Flesher’s legs are tied up in the ropes! The crowd groans disappointedly when Hebner orders Strangler to break the hold. Flesher, in a haze, sits up and grabs onto the ropes to make sure Strangler can’t start the assault again too soon. “The Boston Strangler nails a Straitjacket suplex, and really, Tom Flesher got lucky! Nothing more, he got LUCKY! Plain and simple.” Mark Stevens is livid, but trying to keep from letting it show. “Flesher was just demonstrating his superior ring awareness, and managed to get in the ropes to avoid a pin, Mark. Why can’t you recognize that he knows what’s going on in the ring?” “Flesher had nothing to do with it! Strangler just threw him too far and he ended up in the ropes by accident!” Flesher gets up, waiting an extra few seconds, stalling to get his breath back before he moves back to the center. The Boston Strangler is waiting for him, though, and immediately shucks him down into a front facelock! Instead of resting on it, though, Strangler ducks his head under Flesher’s arm, grabs him by the tights and pulls him into the air, hanging him upside down in a vertical suplex position! Strangler stalls… and stalls… and STALLS… BAM! <continued> Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Guest Suicide King Report post Posted June 24, 2003 Strangler falls backwards, dropping Flesher nearly seven feet straight onto the top of his head with a vicious stalling brainbuster! The crowd goes absolutely wild, and Strangler rolls onto Flesher for the count! ONE!!!!!! TWO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! THREE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! NO!!!!!!!! Flesher gets a shoulder up! He stays on the mat, though, barely moving. “Unbelievable!” says Stevens. “How can Tom Flesher continue to take a beating like this and still kick out?!” “Because he’s giving as good as he’s getting, Mark. The Boston Strangler’s sucking wind. He’s never been in a match that’s gone this far. Flesher’s a well-oiled machine, especially this late in the match. He can rely on instinct. All Strangler has are punches and kicks.” “Punches, kicks and Flesher’s entire arsenal.” Flesher starts to get to his feet, but Strangler ushers him up with a whip to the ropes. Flesher rebounds as Strangler cocks his leg into the air for a big boot, but Flesher dives in feet-first and dropkicks his left leg out from under him! Strangler falls to the mat, and Flesher gets back to his feet! Strangler starts back up, but Flesher dropkicks him in the head as he gets to one knee! Strangler collapses to the mat once again, and Flesher grabs his left leg! He drops his singlet straps, and, with a sardonic salute, crosses Strangler’s legs together in the Nagata lock! “CROSS LIGHTNING!” shouts Riley. “Out of nowhere, Flesher locks up the Cross Lightning! Come on, Strangler! Tap! TAP!!!!!!!!” “Flesher gets the crooked figure-four, and it looks tight,” admits Mark Stevens. “But the Boston Strangler didn’t get this far in the SWF by tapping out every time he faced adversity. No, he’s got the strength, the power, and the guts to make it through this hold!” Strangler looks down, grimacing in pain as he sees Flesher tightening the Cross Lightning. He sits up and reaches, trying to pry Flesher’s legs apart from his own, but to no avail. Flesher just keeps tightening the leglock as much as he can, trying to grind Strangler’s bones against each other and force him to submit or pass out for the pin. Strangler tries to fight the pain, but with his left leg in the pain it’s in, having taken the epic beating throughout the whole match, he doesn’t look like he can take much more. “This is going to be it for Strangler!” shouts Riley. “Strangler’s going to tap out and give the match to Flesher! He’s going to submit like the little bitch he is!” “COME ON, STRANGLER!” shouts Grand Slam, still knowing that the workers can’t hear him. “Come on! You can fight through this!” The crowd fires up, chanting “TBS! TBS!” over and over again, louder and louder. Strangler leans back… a look of pain on his face… overwhelmed by the pain… and does the only thing he can do. “OH MY GOD!” screams Stevens. The Boston Strangler screams out loud and summons up his last ounce of power, kicking both his legs out! He straightens his legs, the size of small trees, and breaks the Cross Lightning using nothing but his own superhuman strength! The fans go absolutely apeshit as Strangler screams louder and louder, breaking the hold and getting back to his feet running only on the adrenaline coursing through his veins! Flesher stands up, shocked and looking like he just crapped his pants, and Strangler charges at him! Flesher throws a pair of very stiff kicks to the thigh, but the Boston Strangler fights through the pain! He grabs Flesher by the head and pulls him in close, then hammers him with an uppercut! Flesher careens backwards, only to have Strangler follow it up with a sickening left hook! When he finishes his assault, Tom Flesher stands in the corner, holding himself up with the ropes and not looking much like a World Champion. “What the hell can Strangler possibly do to put Flesher down?” says Riley. “Flesher’s just been taking a beating and coming back for more, hammering Strangler. There’s just nothing the Boston Strangler can do to put him down, Mark. There’s nothing he can do.” Strangler, of course, has other ideas. He grabs Flesher and pulls him a few feet out of the corner, driving a stiff kick into Flesher’s stomach! Flesher doubles over and holds himself up using the middle rope; without wasting another moment, Strangler grabs him for a gutwrench. “Oh, dear god,” murmurs Riley. The fans just burst into cheers as Strangler lifts Flesher into the air, holds him upside down for a few seconds and then drops him unprotected onto his neck with his own version of the… “EGO BUSTER!” screams Mark Stevens. “EGO BUSTER FROM THE BOSTON STRANGLER! OH MY GOD!” As a formality, Strangler drops onto Flesher and scoops up his near leg as Mark Hebner counts… ONE!!!!!!! TWO!!!!!!!!!!!! THREE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Hebner calls for the bell… but quickly waves it off! The fans groan almost as loud as Strangler does when Hebner points to Flesher’s foot on the ropes! “And once again,” says Bobby Riley, “Flesher’s ring awareness saves him. If Strangler was a little smarter, if he didn’t act on impulse all the time, he would have dragged Flesher back to the center. But Mark, that’s what the Southie schools give ya, and that’s what he has to work with.” Strangler gets up, staring numbly at the barely-conscious Flesher. He waits a few seconds as Flesher’s breathing gets gradually less shallow, seeming to contemplate exactly what just happens. With no other option, he turns toward the center of the ring to try to regroup for when Flesher gets up. And Flesher kicks his knee out from under him. “That was horrible!” screams Stevens. “How unethical can you get?!” The fans agree, booing loudly at Flesher’s blindside kick. Strangler tumbles to the mat as the still prone Flesher kicks him in the pit of the left knee, taking his support out from under him. As Strangler falls, Flesher pulls himself up on the ropes and stays back, waiting for Strangler to get back up. When he does, Flesher slides in and clips his knee out again, with another toe kick to the pit of the knee! “That’s one hundred percent Strangler’s fault,” says Bobby Riley, though he’s being drowned out by the boos and the “ASSHOLE!” chants. “Strangler turned his back on Flesher, he let his emotion get the best of him. That’s the first thing they teach you in wrestling school.” “Like you know a damn thing about wrestling,” says the Heavy Hitter, getting frustrated with his broadcast partner. Strangler turns toward Flesher, being careful not to leave the Superior One behind him again. Flesher is waiting for him, though, and whips him to the ropes! As the Boston Strangler bounces off the ropes, Flesher kicks his knee out once more, relentlessly attacking the sore limb as Strangler’s fatigue starts to get the better of him! Finally, to keep Strangler down, Flesher dropkicks him stiffly in the head! Strangler falls toward the corner, and without hesitation, Flesher makes his way over and starts to climb the buckles. “What could he be doing?” asks a tense Grand Slam. “We don’t see Flesher come off the top rope except when he has a grounded opponent in the center, for a senton bomb or a flying headbutt.” Strangler gets up to one knee, and Flesher braces on his perch, waiting a few more seconds. “Flesher knows what he’s doing,” says Riley, “and that’s all that matters.” Strangler gets up to his feet, wobbling on his injured, fatigued legs. Seemingly unaware of Flesher on the turnbuckle, Strangler starts checking his injuries by putting weight on his left knee. As soon as he does, Flesher reaches out and grabs his head. Stevens gasps. Riley smirks. The crowd simply groans in unison. Flesher leaps off the top rope, with Strangler realizing too late what’s happening. As he floats down toward his opponent, Flesher nails him in the back of the head with a diving knee strike. He keeps his knee planted in Strangler’s brainstem, seeming to flutter toward the mat in slow motion as the Boston Strangler falls forward. He rides the challenger to the mat, his knee firmly against the giant’s neck, until finally the mammoth Strangler’s face hits the mat, with Flesher’s 213 pounds adding force. “EGO TRIP!” shouts Riley, as the fans leap to their feet to boo Flesher. “Tom Flesher nails an Ego Trip!!!!!” “No!” screams Stevens. “No, not like this! Not because Strangler was confused and blindsided! Beat him in the center of the ring, god damn it!” “He’s right in the middle now,” smirks Riley. Flesher takes a minute to shake off the impact, and then rolls the Boston Strangler onto his back. He makes sure to scoop the leg, and Mark Hebner counts ONE!!!!!!!!! TWO!!!!!!!!!!!!! THREE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Hebner makes a last-minute check of the shoulders, the ropes, and any other factors, but finds none. DING DING DING!!!!!!!!!! The fans are on their feet, screaming vile insults at Tom Flesher. Even so, Mark Hebner leans out of the ring to get the SWF World Title belt, and Funyon makes the announcement. “The winner of the third fall, and STILL your SWF World Heavyweight Champion… the Superior One, TOM FLESHERRRRRRRRRRRR!!!!!!!!!!!” “Kashmir” begins to blare over the Pengrowth Saddledome’s sound system, but the fans are drowning it out with loud boos, chants and catcalls. The “ASSSSSSHOLE! ASSSSSSSHOLE!” chants ring through the arena, and Tom Flesher can’t help but smile. “Tonight,” says Bobby Riley, “Tom Flesher showed the Boston Strangler that not only is he smarter, he’s better in the ring. Strangler may have wanted him for the past six months, but Mark, there’s not another damn thing he can do about it.” “True enough, Tom Flesher showed his superiority in the ring tonight, but Bobby, you have to give the Boston Strangler credit. He took a beating and kept coming back for more. He showed toughness and heart that you just don’t see anymore.” Tom Flesher, his singlet straps still down off his chest, lets Mark Hebner raise his hand, and then snatches the World Title belt from him. Smiling, he holds the belt tight against his chest and falls back onto the mat. He breathes deeply, exhausted from the match, exhilarated from his defeat and thrilled to have successfully defended his belt. The SmarkTron lights up, a gleaming white not unlike the one it shows before Flesher’s entrance. This time, instead of “SUPERIORITY COMPLEX,” “MAGNIFICENT SEVEN” or “WORLD CHAMPION,” only one thing takes up the screen. “5.” “Tom Flesher defeats the Boston Strangler in the center of the ring,” says Bobby Riley, recapping. “After a night of action like you wouldn’t believe, Flesher ends it all, and makes his fifth successful defense. He’s tied Edwin MacPhisto’s record, and he’s recorded yet another in the long line of wins.” “But the Boston Strangler won’t be held down forever,” says Stevens. “He’s got time to get back in shape and work his way back to the World Title contendership. You have to believe that he’s going to be chasing Flesher down.” As Flesher gets back to his feet and slings the belt over his shoulder, Stevens continues… “And dammit, Bobby, he just can’t take beatings like this.” He takes a deep breath, and finally says… “Something’s gotta give. Sometime.” Fade. SWF 13th Hour, June 22, 2003. © 2003 White Apple Productions. All rights reserved. The Smartmarks Wrestling Federation: “Raising Workrate By Typing Faster.” Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
Guest Suicide King Report post Posted June 24, 2003 A very good show. As you may have noticed the PMs apparently cut off a bit of the matches that Edwin had, so hopefully he'll edit that in. A very good show. Card will go up after Raw tonight. Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
