13th Hour Losing Matches

June 24, 2003

FADE IN

* Strains of the 13th Hour theme song, “Seven Nation Army,” begin to fade out as we return from the extended commercial break. *

“Folks, we’ve finally got the ringside area cleared of debris from that brutal war for the Hardcore Championship,” says Mark Stevens. “I’ve finally been re-joined at the broadcast booth, after an extended break period, by my esteemed colleague, Bobby Riley. Bobby, are you feeling any better? You ran out of here in a bit of a hurry after that Hardcore match.”

Bobby Riley, whose face looks almost devoid of color, blanches even further at the mention of the word ‘hardcore.’ “Please,” he implores, quickly bringing his hand to his mouth, “don’t mention that match ever again! I’m going to have nightmares after seeing that!”

“At any rate,” continues Stevens, “we’re just about ready for our fourth title match of the night, as ‘Deathwish’ Danny Williams gets set to defend against the Wildchild. Bobby, last week on Smarkdown, Suicide King announced that he felt there were no worthy competitors for the ICTV title, but Danny demanded a match at 13th Hour, so here we are!”

“I don’t know what Danny’s problem is,” adds Riley. “He could have very easily have taken the night off, but he had to open his mouth up, and now he’s going to actually have to get in the ring and get all sweaty, and roll around, and…”

Mark turns to face his broadcast partner with a look of mild disgust on his face. With his hand covering his microphone, he whispers, “Down, boy. Do us all a favor and control those urges until after the show, okay?”

Riley’s face turns a bright red. “Sorry.”

With a shake of his head, Stevens continues, “Anyway, we all know that Danny Williams is a fighting champion, having taken on all comers since he won that ICTV Title almost two months ago. But Bobby, it’s been quite some time since Danny’s faced anyone even remotely like the Wildchild!”

“And that may be the one thing that Wildchild has working in his favor,” agrees Riley. “Williams is one of the best in the sport, but there are still a handful of other guys in the SWF who wrestle a style similar to, if not exactly like, Williams. There’s NOBODY else in the SWF who brings it like Wildchild. But, I’m picking Williams to retain here; when it comes down to it, I don’t think that Wildchild is going to be able to make enough adjustments to his style to beat Williams.”

“I’ve got to agree that Williams is the favorite,” adds Stevens, “but I’ve got a good feeling about the kid; he’s been riding a wave of momentum in recent weeks, and he just might be able to pull it out.”

“The only thing he’s going to be pulling out is teeth,” replies Riley, “after Williams jams a few thousand elbows down his throat!”

“Well folks,” says Stevens, “you’ve heard our opinions; now it’s time to find out which one of these two young men can actually get it done! Let’s get back to the ring, and the irrepressible Funyon!”

The charismatic ring announcer stands in the center of the ring. He has conspicuously changed outfits into a white tuxedo and jacket, after inadvertently getting blood splattered on his tuxedo during the Hardcore match. He raises the microphone to his lips and says, “ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is scheduled for one fall, with a one hour time limit, and… it is for the INTER-CONTINENTAL Television Championship!” The crowd breaks into rabid applause, as Funyon continues, “introducing first, the challenger! From Morgan’s Bluff, Andros, in the Bahamas, weighing two hundred seventeen pounds… the WIIIIILD CHIIIIILD!”

With that, the speakers begin to pump out Smashing Pumpkins’ “The Everlasting Gaze,” and the crowd in the Pengrowth Saddledome erupts as the Bahama Bomber bursts out from backstage, waving his arms back and forth through the air. He races down to the ring, a streak of aquamarine, black and gold, slapping hands with the fans at ringside, and somersaults into the ring between the bottom and middle ropes. He immediately rolls to his feet and runs to a corner, where he leaps onto the top turnbuckle and begins posing for the fans.

“You think he’s not pumped up for this match,” Stevens tries to shout above the roar of the crowd. “Wildchild looks like he’s ready to give Danny the fight of his life!”

“I’ve got to question the wisdom of anyone who would run down to the ring before a title match,” says Riley. “You’re putting yourself at a disadvantage before the match even starts!”

Wildchild runs back and forth between the ropes in an attempt to calm his nerves and burn off a little excess energy, finally heading towards a neutral corner as he comes to a stop. He climbs onto the second turnbuckle as his music fades out, and waits nervously as Funyon resumes his introductions.

“And, his opponent,” says Funyon, who then pauses to allow the crowd an opportunity to cheer for the champion, “from Louisville, Kentucky, weighing two hundred forty-three pounds, he is… the INTER-CONTENENTAL TELEVISION CHAMPION… ‘Deathwish’ Danny WIIIIILIAMS!”

The sound of In Flames’ “Jester’s Dance” begin to flood the arena as the Champion enters the arena from behind the backstage area. He stands at the foot of the stage, his hands at his hips to draw attention to the Intercontinental Television Championship belt resting proudly on his waist.

DAN-E! DAN-E! DAN-E!

Using the crowds’ adulation to get himself pumped up, Danny runs his hand through his short hair and proceeds to stroll down the aisle towards the ring, his head held high.

“Boy, the champion looks to be in great shape,” notes Stevens. “Bobby, he looks ready for this match, doesn’t he? That’s as confident a look on his face as I’ve ever seen, and he’s not exactly a guy who suffers from a lack of confidence to begin with!”

“Well, of course he’s confident,” replies Riley. “And why shouldn’t he be? He knows that this match is his to lose; Wildchild is simply not on his level!”

Danny completes his trek down to ringside and walks patiently up the steel steps into the ring, where he is showered by a multitude of red and yellow streamers.

“We finally have both men in the ring,” says Stevens, “and as soon as the ring attendants clear out all of these streamers, we should get right to the action!”

“Personally, I like the fact that Danny took his time getting down here,” quips Riley. “He probably saw Wildchild’s little frenetic display from the back. I know that if I were still wrestling, and I knew that my opponent was that wound up, I’d take as long as possible, and let it eat at his nerves, until he started to snap!”

“Well, Williams is a master of psychology,” agrees Stevens. “It wouldn’t surprise me if that was EXACTLY what he was doing.”

Danny slowly unclips the championship belt from his waist as the ring attendants clear the last of the streamers out of the ring, and hands it over to referee Mark Hebner as Wildchild stares at him from across the ring, his face full of anticipation. Hebner holds the belt high above his head, showing the fans what’s at stake.

“That’s what it’s all about,” says Stevens. “One of the most prestigious titles in the history of professional wrestling will be at stake in this match!”

The referee walks over to the edge of the ring and hands the belt to Funyon, and then orders the timekeeper to ring the bell, signifying the start of the match.

“Bell’s gone,” says Stevens, “and we’re underway!”

Wildchild and Danny circle around the ring. As they begin to draw near each other in the center, Danny suddenly flashes forward, raising his right leg high into the air to deliver a Dynamic Kick, but Wildchild ducks underneath and runs behind him, applying a waistlock from behind. Danny reaches down to his waist, grabbing at Wildchild’s arms to try to break his grip, which prompts the Bahama Bomber to lift the Champion into the air, twisting to his side, and dropping him to the mat with a waistlock takeover. Wildchild removes his left arm from Danny’s waist and moves it forward in an attempt to shoot the half-nelson, but Williams takes advantage of the lapse in pressure to sit out of the takedown, and grabs Wildchild’s right arm as he twists to the side, countering into a hammerlock.

“Wildchild may have taken Danny a little by surprise by starting out with some actual mat wrestling,” notes Stevens, “but it didn’t take the Champion long to regain control!”

Danny cinches in the hammerlock and stands to his feet, pulling his opponent up with him. Wildchild raises his left arm above his head and reaches behind him to grab Williams by the back of the head. Pulling down and forward, Wildchild forces Danny to snap his head upwards out of reflex, and uses the momentum to propel himself over and behind the Champion, where he scrambles backwards into the ropes the second his feet touch the canvas.

WHACK!

Wildchild bounces off the ropes and rushes the Champion, but Williams raises his arm to eye level and whips it sharply in front of him, smacking the challenger in the face with a hard elbow smash! Danny looks down with contempt at his opponent before bending down to pick him up, but as he gets to his knees, Wildchild surges upwards, knocking Danny’s hands away and punching him repeatedly in the face with a flurry of right hands, knocking him back near the center of the ring. Wildchild steps backwards into the ropes and charges Williams, who swings his arm up wildly to deliver another debilitating elbow, but Wildchild ducks underneath this one and runs behind Williams, leaping into the air as he turns around, and nailing him in the face with a dropkick that sends him to the mat. The Bahama Bomber beats the Champion to his feet and leaps towards him, whipping his leg through the air and across Danny’s throat, hitting him with a leg lariat that sends him stumbling through the ropes.

“Wildchild’s a blur in that ring right now,” shouts Stevens. “He’s got the Champion reeling already!” The Caribbean Cruiser whips his hand overhead in a circular fashion, indicating his patented Tornado DDT to the crowd, and makes a short lap around the ring as Danny gets to his feet on the ring apron. He races to the corner and prepares to springboard out of the ring onto his opponent, but Williams hops down off the apron and runs up the aisle, well out of even Wildchild’s range. The Bahama Bomber stands perched on the second turnbuckle staring at Williams as the Champion makes mental adjustments to his strategy from outside the ring.

“So far, so good for the challenger,” says Stevens. “He’s done a good job of keeping Danny on his toes, mixing in just enough wrestling with his usual high-flying style to keep the champion off-guard.”

“Let’s hold off praise until we see if he can sustain it,” replies Riley.

Wildchild starts clapping his hands together, getting the crowd to join in. The noise builds to a rousing crescendo, drowning out the sound of the referee making his count, as Wildchild hops down off the turnbuckle and walks to the ropes, creating an opening between the top and middle ropes, and inviting the Champion to return to the ring. Scowling at the challenger, Danny makes his way back to the ring at a deliberate pace, climbing methodically back onto the apron and stepping back into the ring right at the referees’ nine-count.

“Danny took his time getting back to the ring,” observes Stevens.

“No reason not to,” replies Riley. “You’ve got a ten-count to get back into the ring. Danny probably wanted to bleed some of Wildchild’s momentum out of the ring; get things back to a neutral setting, as it were.”

Danny and Wildchild approach each other in the center of the ring, and Williams ducks behind the challenger, securing a waistlock. He lifts Wildchild into the air, but the Bahama Bomber shifts his weight forward, hooking his legs underneath Williams’ arms, and pulling him into a modified Victory Roll!

ONE!

TW—

Slightly stunned, Danny finds his shoulders pinned to the mat for a one-count, but quickly kicks out.

“Wildchild appeared to have surprised Danny with that Victory Roll,” says Stevens, “but he got out of it at the one count, which is smart; no sense taking a risk on a fluke pin, especially not in a title match.”

As Danny rolls to his feet, Wildchild pounces on him, trapping him in a side headlock. Williams pushes him back against the ropes and shoves him off towards the opposite end of the ring. Danny scoops Wildchild into his arms as he bounces off the ropes and flings the challenger over his head, but the Tropical Tumbler floats out of his hands and lands behind him, applying a waistlock and pushing the Champion into the ropes. Danny grabs onto the top rope for support and shrugs Wildchild off him, who flips backwards into the ring with a handspring. Danny charges Wildchild, who drops to the mat as he passes over him. The challenger rolls back to his feet, but quickly drops back down to the mat as Danny runs over the top of him again.

WHACK!

Instead of running to the ropes a second time, Danny puts on the brakes and stops behind Wildchild, waiting for him to get to his feet, and then charging him suddenly, blasting the unsuspecting Bahama Bomber with a running elbow smash!

“Another elbow puts Wildchild on his back,” shouts Stevens.

“Every time Wildchild thinks he’s got some kind of control in this match,” says Riley, “Williams feeds him some more elbow!”

Danny bends down and grabs Wildchild by the hair, lifting him to his feet. He applies a front facelock and grabs Wildchild’s near leg as he lifts him up off the canvas in what appears to be a suplex attempt, but instead, the Champion rushes towards the edge of the ring and drops Wildchild forward, hanging him out to dry on the top rope.

“Ouch,” exclaims Stevens. “That had to hurt!”

“It was like a Slingshot Suplex,” adds Riley, “only he left out the suplex!”

Williams hammers the back of Wildchild’s head several times with a deluge of forearm smashes, and then pushes his opponent backwards off the ropes onto the ring apron, as he races towards the opposite end of the ring to build up steam. He charges back towards Wildchild and draws his arm back to deliver another devastating elbow, but the Caribbean Cruiser uses the top rope to slingshot himself back into the ring, flipping over the top of Williams and running to the other side. He runs to the ropes with Danny giving chase behind him, and leaps onto the top rope. Williams dives towards the ropes hoping to knock the challenger into the crowd, but Wildchild displays his spectacular agility, running across the top rope to the corner, and using the top turnbuckle as a platform to spring from twisting through the air and crashing into the Champion with a cross-body block! The Bahama Bomber recovers first, pausing briefly to rub his left shoulder, and races to the edge of the ring, stepping out onto the apron and waiting for the Champion to get back to his feet.

“Did you see that,” asks Riley.

“See what,” asks Stevens.

Bobby shakes his head. “Nothing, I guess.”

He leaps onto the top rope as Danny stands up and springs into the ring, flipping forward as he plants his feet into Williams’ chest with a sensational Shooting Star Dropkick that sends Danny backwards into the ropes near the corner.

“Wildchild’s picking up the pace,” cries Stevens, as Wildchild stands in the ring, whipping his arm above his head. “Look out! He just gave the sign for the Chicklet Buster!”

WHIFF!

Wildchild races in the direction of his foe and dives feet-first through the ropes, using the bottom and middle ropes to balance himself as he swings around, but Danny rolls outside the ring to safety, just narrowly avoiding the bare feet of the Wildchild.

“Danny Williams bails to the outside,” says Stevens, “just narrowly avoiding that Chicklet Buster!”

“I think Danny may need a few seconds to regroup,” says Riley.

Wildchild considers pursuing the Champion outside the ring, but is suddenly overcome by inspiration, and instead decides to climb onto the top turnbuckle walking across the top turnbuckle behind Williams.

“How the hell does he do that,” asks Riley.

“Well, Wildchild does have a circus background,” Stevens explains to any new fans watching at home. “He grew up as part of his family’s high-wire circus act. I can only guess that it’s something you don’t forget, like riding a bicycle, and the ring ropes ARE rather thicker than a tightrope, so it’s actually probably fairly EASY for him to walk up there like that.”

Peering into the ring to check on the location of his opponent, Danny is momentarily surprised to not see him in there! Anticipating a top rope attack, Danny makes a break for the opposite end of the ring in an attempt to escape Wildchild’s range, but the Bahama Bomber follows along behind him on the top rope, coming to a stop on the turnbuckle pad directly above Williams.

“Look up, Williams,” shouts Riley. “He’s right on top of you!”

CRASH!

Hearing Riley’s nearby cries, Williams looks up, but is unable to react in time as Wildchild plummets from the top turnbuckle, crushing him with a Corkscrew Senton attack! Wildchild recovers quickly, and assumes a mounted position over the Champion, assaulting his face with a rapid-fire series of punches.

“Wildchild continues to take it to the Champion,” says Stevens.

Wildchild pulls Danny to his feet and whips him towards the ring barricade, but Williams reverses fairly easily. Wildchild, however, leaps onto the barricade instead of crashing into it, and waits for Danny to charge in after him before flipping off backwards and landing behind him. Danny uses his hands to put on the brakes before he crashes into the barricade, but as he turns around, he finds himself lifted off the ground, courtesy of a Wildchild hiptoss! Wildchild winces as he feels a sharp pain shoot through his left shoulder.

“There,” shouts Riley, “he did it again!”

“What,” asks Stevens.

“He just grabbed his shoulder after that hiptoss!”

“That’s odd,” says Stevens. “Danny hasn’t done anything to work the shoulder in this match…”

Bobby rolls his eyes. “Do you ever read the scouting reports?”

Mark makes a face. “Of course I do. Hell, I write them half the time!”

“Did you read the one for Wildchild?”

Mark shakes his head. “No, actually. When I went to the office to pick up my paperwork this afternoon, I had two reports on Crowe, but nothing for Wildchild.”

Riley hands him a sheet of paper. “Well, if it ever slows down enough, take a look at this.”

Wildchild leaps onto the apron to break up the referee’s count and then scampers across the ring to the opposite ropes, racing back before Danny can recover fully and leaping over the top rope and crashing into Williams with a sensational Tope con Hilo!

“This kid is all over the place,” cries Stevens. “He’s pulling out all the stops!”

Wildchild picks Danny up and rolls him back into the ring, climbing onto the apron behind him. He uses the top rope to pull himself to his feet and vaults into the ring, splashing down onto Danny’s chest with a slingshot Senton! The referee dives into position to count the pinfall, as Wildchild’s back remains pressed against Williams’ chest.

ONE!

TWO!

THR— KICKOUT!

“Wildchild got a little bit of offense in there, but Williams is to tough,” says Riley. “I don’t think the kid has enough to put him away!”

Wildchild picks Williams up off the mat and scoops him into his arms, slamming him down in front of the corner.

“Rare power display by the Wildchild,” notes Stevens. “He must be setting him up for something.”

The Caribbean Cruiser hops over his fallen foe and onto the bottom turnbuckle, where he leaps off and flips backwards, and landing on his foe with a bottom-rope moonsault. Without hesitation, Wildchild springs back to his feet and leaps over Williams onto the second turnbuckle, springing back off again, this time with a second-rope moonsault.

“Moonsault from the second,” repeats Stevens. “We could see a Trifecta coming up!”

Wildchild scrambles back over the Champion and leaps onto the top turnbuckle. He leaps off the turnbuckle to crush Williams with a third moonsault!

WHACK!

But the Champion rolls towards the corner out of the way, and suddenly surges off the mat as the Bahama Bomber lands on his feet, lifting his foot high into the air and blasting the challenger underneath the chin with a Dynamic Kick! Wildchild stumbles backwards in a daze as Danny runs towards him to regain his advantage.

BAM!

Danny knocks Wildchild backwards into the ropes with a paralyzing series of elbow smashes to the face, and then grabs him by the arm, whipping him towards the far end of the ring. Williams bends down as Wildchild bounces off the ropes and launches him high into the air with a back body drop, but the uncanny Wildchild lands on his feet behind the Champion, crouching into a low stance as he waits for him to turn around. Wildchild’s foot lurches forward to smash into Danny’s face with a Shuffling Sidekick!

WHACK!

But Danny catches Wildchild’s foot and briefly holds it in front of him before flinging it upwards into the air. The Tropical Tumbler flips backwards and lands on his feet, as expected, and Danny charges forward to level him with another running elbow smash!

“The Champion has regained control of this match, and now he’s decimating the Wildchild with elbow smashes!”

“Wildchild’s got a fever,” says Riley gleefully, “and the only prescription… is more elbow!”

Danny stands Wildchild up and runs back towards the ropes to build momentum. He dashes towards the challenger as he bounces off the ropes and rears his arm back to deliver another crushing elbow!

WHAM!

Wildchild ducks underneath the wild elbow smash and Danny runs past him to the opposite ropes. The Bahama Bomber leaps into the air to deliver a Freefall air throw, but the Champion snatches him out of the air, and falls backwards, driving him into the canvas with an awesome Capture Suplex! Wildchild lands awkwardly on his left shoulder as he bounces off the mat, and suddenly begins clutching his shoulder in pain.

“A brilliant counter by the Champion,” shouts Stevens, “and it looks like he might have done even more damage than he anticipated. Wildchild landed pretty hard on that shoulder!”

“Well, that was in the scouting report on Wildchild that I was reading before the match,” adds Riley. “Evidently, he’s still feeling some pain in that left shoulder from that match with Janus, and that suplex just made things worse for him!”

Mark’s eyes glance frantically over the paper that Riley had handed him earlier. “Dear God, you’re right! If Danny catches on to that, this match could be over in a hurry!”

Riley indulges himself in a slow grin “Damn right!”

Danny rolls over on top of Wildchild and leans onto that sore left shoulder as he hooks the leg. The referee dives into position for the cover…

ONE!

TWO!

THR—

KICKOUT!

“Wildchild kicks out at two,” says Stevens, “but that wasn’t a very powerful kickout.”

“Well, that shoulder must be hurting him a lot more than he wants to let on,” replies Riley. He’s been on offense for most of this match so far, so for him to have difficulty kicking out there would indicate that that shoulder is really bothering him!”

WHACK!

Danny gets to his feet and notices Wildchild clutching his shoulder as he writhes about the canvas. Brilliant tactician that he is, Williams proceeds to assault Wildchild’s weakness with a barrage of punt kicks!

“This match is over,” Riley says matter-of-factly. “Wildchild made the fatal mistake of showing weakness to Danny Williams, and now the champ is on him like a shark that smells blood in the water!”

Williams picks Wildchild up and leads him by the shoulder into the corner, bashing the challenger’s injured left shoulder into the turnbuckle. Turning him around, he whips him towards the opposite end of the ring, but the Tropical Tumbler leaps onto the top turnbuckle, flipping backwards as the Champion charges into the corner and landing behind him.

WHAM!

Wildchild lifts his right arm up to catch Williams as he comes out of the corner with a hiptoss, but the Champion blocks the attempt and floats in front of his opponent, locking his arms in position for a Head-and-Arm suplex and jerking him up off the mat, tossing him overhead and driving him into the canvas behind him!

“This match is all Danny Williams right now,” says Riley. “This is why I said that Wildchild didn’t really have a chance to win. He threw some of his best stuff at Williams and couldn’t do any better than a two count, and now, every time he tries to get back into it, Danny shows him who’s the boss!”

Williams rolls over on top of his opponent and hooks the leg as the referee dives into position.

ONE!

TWO!

THR—

KICKOUT!

“Unbelievable that Wildchild still has the wherewithal to stay in this match,” marvels Stevens.

“If he knew what was good for him, he’d just lay there and let Williams put him out of his misery,” quips Riley.

Danny pulls Wildchild to his feet and whips him towards the ropes. Instead of bouncing off, however, the Bahama Bomber throws his right arm over the top rope and uses it to stop himself. Danny runs in behind him, but Wildchild leapfrogs over the top of him and springs back into the air the second his feet touch the mat, stunning Williams with a Backflip Kick that sends him staggering into the ropes.

“Backflip Kick,” cries Stevens. “This kid is showing us some fight that we’ve never seen from him before!”

Wildchild runs at Williams in the ropes and leaps onto his chest. He clasps his hands behind Danny’s head, but the Champion leans backwards and dumps him out of the ring to the arena floor.

WHAAAMM!!!

Danny races back towards the opposite end of the ring as Wildchild gets to his feet outside the ring, and rushes towards him as he bounces off the ropes, leaping over the top rope to crush Wildchild’s face with a Diving Elbow Smash!

HOLY SHIT!

“My God,” shouts Stevens. “Elbow Suicida! ELBOOOOOOOW SUUUICIIIIDAAAAAH!”

“He just erased Wildchild’s face with that move,” shrieks Riley.

Williams rolls around on the arena floor, his head throbbing from an inadvertent collision with the ring barricade. He rolls into a seated position and looks at his seemingly unconscious opponent as his ears slowly begin to register the sound of the referee counting from inside the ring. Pulling himself to his feet, the Champion grabs Wildchild and drags him over to the ring, lifting him up and rolling him underneath the ring. Crawling in behind him, Williams makes his way over to the challenger and hooks the leg as the referee counts the pinfall…

ONE!

TWO!

THREEEEEE!

“NO,” shouts Stevens. “Kickout!”

Riley shakes his head. “This kid is too stupid to know what’s good for him.”

Shaking his head in disdain, Danny gets back to his feet and starts to pull Wildchild up with him, but the Bahama Bomber catches him by surprise, flinging Danny’s arms away and punching him in the face with a sharp right jab!

WAP!

Danny swings his arm wildly to deliver yet another elbow, but Wildchild ducks behind him and draws his arm back, unleashing another volley of jabs.

WAP!

Williams charges forward with a strong lariat attempt, but Wildchild ducks underneath it at runs to the ropes behind him. As he leaps off the ropes, he leaps into the air, his left arm extended to deliver a flying forearm, but the Champion snatches his arm out of the air and twists his body as they both fall to the mat, then twists Wildchild’s arm around into a fierce Wakigatame!

“Fujiwara Armbar,” cries Stevens. “This could be it!”

“He’s done,” agrees Riley. “As if it’s not bad enough that this move is designed to hyperextend the elbow, it also puts a great deal of pressure on the shoulder, and with the condition that Wildchild’s shoulder is in, I don’t see any way he can fight his way out of this!”

Wildchild screams like a bear caught in a trap. Referee Earl Hebner bends down and looks into his face. “Give up,” he asks, but Wildchild shakes his head vigorously.

“Wildchild’s trying to fight off the pain,” says Stevens, “but I just don’t know how he’s going to get out of this armbar!”

For his part, Danny plants his feet on the mat and lifts upwards, applying more pressure to the shoulder. Wildchild lets out another scream as he suffers through the excruciating pain. With his good arm, he pushes against the canvas in a desperate attempt to relieve the pressure, but Williams responds by kicking his legs out and dropping back to the canvas, the impact sending shockwaves of pain through Wildchild’s shoulder. The crowd begins to stomp its feet, creating a rumble throughout the arena/

“The crowd is trying to get Wildchild back into the game, but it’s too little, too back,” says Riley.

“Unfortunately, I’m afraid I’m inclined to agree with you, Bobby. Give it up, kid,” pleads Stevens. “You put up a good fight, but Williams is the better man. Give it up, and live to fight another day.”

Sweat pours down Wildchild’s face, running streaks through his face paint as his struggles to escape gradually become less and less intense. Hebner bends down once more and asks the challenger if he’s had enough, but receives no response. Shaking his head, Hebner grabs Wildchild’s right arm by the wrist and lifts it into the air, then releases it as it falls to the canvas.

“That’s it,” says Riley. “It’s all over!”

Hebner holds Wildchild’s arm aloft again, then watches as it slumps lifelessly back to the mat.

“One more,” says Stevens, “and this match is in the books!”

The referee lifts Wildchild’s arm into the air one last time, and releases it. He watches as it falls towards the mat…

And falls…

And hangs…

AND HANGS?!

“It didn’t go down,” shouts Stevens. “My God, I don’t believe it! Wildchild will not quit!”

“He’s crazier than I thought,” says Riley. “In case he hasn’t noticed, Williams hasn’t exactly let go of that armbar!”

Seeing Wildchild shake his arm in the air inspires the crowd to stamp their feet even louder, chanting in unison to cheer for the high-flying rookie.

“LET’S GO, WILDCHILD, LET’S GO!” CLAP-CLAP!

Wildchild presses his arm against the mat as the Calgary Thunder from the crowd flows through him and fills him with a surge of adrenaline. He grits his teeth, trying to ignore the excruciating pain in his left arm as he uses his right arm to push upwards off the mat and draw his knees underneath him. He then shifts his weight to the balls of his feet, and somersaults, relieving the pressure from his arm. Trying to keep from losing control of the match, Danny rolls onto his feet, maintaining control of an arm wringer as Wildchild gets to his feet as well.

“He did it,” exclaims Stevens. “He got out of the Wakigatame!”

Leading Williams over to the ropes, Wildchild grabs onto the top rope with his right arm, and uses it to flip over, relieving the last of the pressure from his arm. He pushes against Danny’s face, trying to break free of the wristlock that Danny still has him trapped in. Forcing him back against the far ropes, Wildchild takes his right hand away from Danny’s face, grabbing his arm instead as he whips him towards the opposite end of the ring, but the Champion is still more than strong enough to reverse it.

WHAM!

Wildchild leaps onto the top rope and curls himself into a ball as he springs off, blasting Danny in the face with a Pinball! He dives on top of the Champion and tries to hook the leg with his left arm as the referee dives into position…

ONE!

TWO!

THR—

“No way,” shouts Riley. “Still too strong, and Wildchild couldn’t hold onto the leg, anyway!”

“If Wildchild can’t find a way to overcome that shoulder injury,” adds Stevens, “then his whole comeback is going to be wasted.”

Danny and Wildchild get to their feet at the same time, and the Champion takes control with a knee lift to the midsection. He whips Wildchild into the corner, but the Bahama Bomber surprises him with a reversal, sending him crashing into the turnbuckle instead.

WHAAAMM!!

Wildchild runs to the ropes as Danny staggers out of the corner and flies through the air, snaring the Champion in a side headlock with his right arm and driving him face-first into the canvas with a bulldog headlock!

“Bulldog,” shouts Stevens. “Wildchild just hit Danny with the Bulldog! And he just gave the sign for the FSP!”

Wildchild scrambles to his feet and runs to the ropes, leaping onto the top rope and springing off, flipping forwards as he crashes into Danny’s chest!

SPLASH!

“Falling Star Press! Falling Star Press,” shouts Stevens. “We could be looking at a new champion!”

Wildchild reaches back and grabs Danny’s leg as the referee slides into position…

ONE!

TWO!

THREEEE!

“Hell no,” shouts Riley. “Kickout! I’m telling you, Mark, Wildchild can’t beat Williams!”

Wildchild pulls the Champion to his feet and whips him into the corner. Danny crashes back first into the turnbuckles and leans against them, breathing heavily. The Bahama Bomber, the face paint having long since completely run from his face, releases a feral cry and charges into the corner, leaping into the air and twisting to smash into the champion with a Blue Crush!

WHAM!

But Danny pulls himself out of the corner and leaves the challenger to crash face-first into top turnbuckle! As he staggers out of the corner, Danny wraps his hands around his waist and lifts him into the air, driving him backwards into the mat with a German suplex!

“German,” shouts Riley. “That’s GOT to be it!”

Danny rolls to his feet, a look of disgust plastered on his face as he stares down at his opponent. As he raises his arm, a sizeable portion of the crowd cheers as Williams slashes his thumb across his throat. Turning around, Williams walks over to the corner and steps out onto the ring apron.

“What the hell,” says Stevens in amazement. “Is Danny going to the top rope?”

“How incredibly poetic,” says Riley. “He not only wants to put an exclamation point on this match, he wants to beat Wildchild at his own game!”

Williams climbs to the top turnbuckle and steadies himself as Wildchild gets to his knees. He bends down into a slight crouch and prepares to take Wildchild’s head off with a Diving Elbow!

BAAAAAANG!!!!!

But the Bahama Bomber suddenly springs to his feet and runs towards the corner where he leaps onto the top rope besides Danny. Using the top rope as a springboard, Wildchild leaps HIGH into the air, and shifts his body in front of Williams as he starts to fall, locking his legs around the Champion’s neck and pulling him off the top turnbuckle in a death-defying hurricanrana that drives his head into the canvas!

HOLY SHIT!

“OH MY GOD,” shouts Stevens “DID YOU SEE THAT MANEUVER! MY GOD! HE JUST SUCKED THE GRAVITY OUT OF THE BUILDING!!!”

Riley stares into the ring, his eyes the size of saucers. “I saw it, and I STIL don’t believe it!”

The referee starts to make his count, as both men lay motionless in the ring.

ONE!

TWO!

THREE!

FOUR!

“My God,” says Stevens, “I’m still breathless from watching that maneuver! But now, it’s anyone’s match; whoever manages to come up with a big move first will probably win it!”

SEVEN!

EIGHT!

NINE!

At the count of nine, both men begin to stir. Wildchild manages to get to his feet first, and leaps into the air as Danny starts to stand up, lacing his leg over the Champion’s head and driving it back into the mat with a Caribbean Cutter!

“Cutter,” shouts Stevens. “Bah Gawd, Cutter!” We could have a new champion!”

Wildchild pulls Danny to his feet and stand in front of him, first locking the right arm, and then reaching back with his left.

“Wild Ride,” shouts Stevens. “If he hits this, it’s over!”

Wildchild snares Danny’s left arm with his, but as he pulls it forward, the pain in his shoulder causes him to hesitate, this gives Danny the chance he needs to pull his other arm free, He steps forward and starts to stand up, with Wildchild seated on his shoulders.

“What’s Danny going to do from this position,” wonders Stevens.

Before the Champion can make up his mind, Wildchild starts to rock forward, and hooks his legs underneath Danny’s arms as he falls to the mat…

“Victory roll,” shouts Stevens.

… But Danny drops to his knees just as Wildchild reaches the mat, and uses his weight to hold down the challenger’s legs.

ONE!

“Oh no,” exclaims Stevens.

TWO!

“Kick out, kid!”

THREEEEEEEEE!

DING! DING! DING!

Danny rolls off of Wildchild and out of the ring as “The Jester’s Dance begins to play. The referee retrieves the belt from Funyon and walks around the ring to deliver it to the champion. Wildchild rolls to a seated position in the ring, spewing obscenities in French as he slaps the mat in frustration.

“The winner of this contest,” says Funyon, “and… STILL… Intercontinental Television Champion… ‘Deathwish’ DAAAAANYYYYY WIIIIILIAMS!” Mark Hebner hands the belt to Williams and raises his hand in victory. The Champion looks back into the ring at his opponent, who clutches his shoulder as he stares back at him.

“Danny Williams is still your ICTV Champion,” says Stevens, “but Wildchild put him through the wringer! The kid gave him all he could handle, but Danny proved tonight that he’s still the better man!”

Danny walks back towards the entrance, his ICTV Title belt slung over his shoulder. As he reaches the entranceway, he turns back around towards the ring, to face Wildchild, who has managed to make it back to his feet. The Bahama Bomber leans over the top rope, panting as he uses it to support his weight.

Danny and Wildchild lock eyes, and then the champion tilts his head in a slight, barely perceptible nod, which causes Wildchild to mouth the words, “next time.” Danny breaks into a slow smile and responds, “I don’t think so.” He then holds his championship above his head, receiving the approval of the crowd.

“What a fantastic match we just saw,” says Stevens, “and we’ve still got two more to go! We’ve got a Retirement match between TNT and Tod deKindes, coming up NEXT!”

As we:

FADE OUT

June 24, 2003

TBS' losing match (Part 1 of 2)

(BTW, I'll try and read some of these tomorrow, after I read the show)

As the crowd at the Saddledome in Calgary, Alberta, Canada finally begins to die down from the incredible TNT vs. Tod deKindes match, the voice of Mark Stevens returns to the airwaves, with a stunned tone still in his voice.

"Welcome back, SWF fans" greets Stevens in a somewhat stunned tone. "We're glad to have you back here…but I'm still stunned from what we just saw. When one of our SWF superstars is forced to retire, it's…it brings back some bad memories. He'll be missed, that's for sure."

"Are you STILL thinking about that poor schlub, Stevens? It's all about living in the present, and right now, it's time for Tom Flesher to come on out here and show exactly why he's the best there is in the business today!" Riley excitedly exclaims as Stevens sighs.

"Riley, one of our own just lost his JOB! Don't you have any sense of decency?"

Riley just glares back at Stevens. "I think that it's pretty obvious by now that I don't, Stevens. Hell, you told me that twice before we came on the air."

Stevens drops his head into his hands briefly as Riley smirks. "Well Riley, I'm glad that you're happy, at least. And it IS time for tonight's main event, which should be a match for the record books."

"Stevens, ANY match with Tom Flesher is one for the record books!"

Stevens shoots a glare over at Riley, who simply ignores it. "Well, that might be, Riley, as Tom Flesher is one of the greatest superstars ever to compete in the SWF. But tonight, he'll have to defend his title against one man whom he's been unable to get the better of over the last month."

"Stevens, he's simply reeling Strangler in. Tom Flesher is a true mastermind. There's no doway he's coming into this match unprepared for what Strangler is gonna throw at him. Tom Flesher is a true technical marvel, and his sheer talent is bound to triumph over Strangler, who's nothing but a 300 pound walking advertisement for better standards in our nation's penitentiary system."

"Riley, despite your best efforts to convince everyone you come in contact with otherwise, Strangler has proven to be a proficient technical wrestler, and someone who has a good head on his shoulders. He's studied Tom Flesher for a period of months, and when he's had a chance to get into the ring with him, he's easily gotten the better of Tom. He even drove Tom Flesher to walk out of a singles match with him, due to Strangler's ability to reverse almost every move in Tom's arsenal."

Riley's indignant expression shows his obvious disagreement with Stevens. "Tom Flesher had a quick setback, so he took some time off, and then regrouped. If I recall correctly, Tom Flesher's team triumphed over Strangler's team in a six-man tag match."

"And in that match, Strangler destroyed Tom Flesher with the Boston Massacre, only to get double-teamed by Justice and Rule. Tom Flesher has yet to prove that, despite his technical prowess, he can defeat the Boston Strangler" counters Grand Slam. "And tonight, Tom Flesher has to put his title on the line in a two out of three falls match, which is a matchup that has to favor Strangler."

"Stevens," exclaims Riley, "how does this match possibly favor Strangler? Tom Flesher is a submissions master! Once he starts to wear down Strangler, he'll be able to slap on a couple quick submissions and end this "war" before it even begins."

"But Strangler is much, MUCH more durable than Tom Flesher, and Strangler has proven that he can counter Tom Flesher's moves at will! What makes you think that Tom can even land one fall?"

"I don't think that Tom is gonna take this challenge from Strangler lying down, and I have the feeling that he'll have hit the tapes as well, looking to gain the same edge over Strangler. And when Strangler and Tom both have their prime offense weapons taken away, Tom Flesher's brilliant tactics will overcome Strangler's remedial strategy of 'punck kick slam.'"

"Well," replies Stevens, "there's only one way to figure out who's gonna come out victorious. Right now, we're going to take you down to Funyon in the middle of the ring, where we can get this highly anticipated match underway."

The lights go down in the arena, with a single spotlight focused on Funyon in the middle of the ring. The 13th Hour logo flashes up on the SmarkTron as the fans go nuts, anticipating tonight's main event. Funyon pauses, waiting for a lull in the noise, and then prepares to speak. "LADIES AND GENTLEMEN!" proclaims Funyon, to another wave of cheers, "It is now time for tonight's MAIN EVENT!!!!!!!!! This match is scheduled for TWO OUT OF THREE FALLS, and it is for THE SWF WORLD CHAMPIONSHIP!"

"It's Flesher time, Stevens!" crows Riley. "It's FLESHER TIME!" However, contrary to Riley's speech, "Godzilla" by Blue Oyster Cult hits over the arena sound system. The stadium EXPLODES into cheers as a massive white burst of pyro explodes up from the stage. The SmarkTron displays the name "STRANGLER", enlightening the only three people in the arena who don't know the man's identity. As the pyro finally begins to die down, a massive figure steps through the bright light and steps out onto the stage. The Boston Strangler raises his arms into the air, drawing a multitude of flashbulbs, as "Godzilla" continues to blare on.

"First, introducing the CHALLENGER! Weighing in at 303 POUNDS, from BOSTON, MASSACHUSETTS, he is THE #1 CONTENDER TO THE SWF WORLD CHAMPIONSHIP, he is…THE BOSTON…STRRRRRRRRRRRANGLER!" Funyon's voice is quickly engulfed by the rabid fans. Strangler acknowledges the cheers as he finally reaches the bottom of the ramp. He slaps hands with a few of the fans at ringside, then rolls underneath the bottom rope into the middle of the ring. He nods a greeting to Funyon and Mark Hebner, then mounts the 2nd turnbuckle. He raises both fists into the air once again, drawing another massive round of flashbulbs from the electric fans. Strangler finally steps down, and chats with Hebner as "Godzilla" begins to wind down. The crowd begins to die down, but the aura of excitement is still felt throughout the entire arena.

However, the attitude quickly changes as "Kashmir" hits, accompanied by the words "SUPERIORITY COMPLEX" on the SmarkTron. A wave of blue pyro explodes, and Tom Flesher steps out onto the ramp. The crowd, hostile from the moment Flesher's music hit, kicks into overdrive as Flesher makes his presence felt, with boos raining down upon the SWF World Heavyweight Champion. Flesher looks down at the SWF Title slung across his shoulder, and gives it a reassuring pat as he starts on his way down to the ring.

"Don't worry Tom, you won't have to worry about losing that belt tonight. Not to that overweight circus freak!" assures Riley. Stevens merely sighs and ignores Riley as Tom reaches the bottom of the ramp. He hands the Index Card of Superiorty to Funyon, who immediately raises the microphone and begins to speak as Flesher slides into the ring. "And now, his opponent! He is from BUFFALO, NEW YORK! Weighing in at 213 POUNDS, he is the man who WILL shatter Edwin MacPhisto's title defense record, the man who could beat the Red Sox single-handedly, and the classiest dresser this side of the Mississippi, he is YOUR SWF WORLD CHAMPION, THE "SUPERIOR ONE" TOM…FLESSSSSHERRRRRRRRR!"

Tom looks down at his championship once more, then hands it to Mark Hebner. Hebner hoists the title into the air, displaying it proudly for all the fans in the building to see. The fans respond with cheers as Hebner hands the belt to a ringside assistant. Strangler and Flesher's eyes both follow the belt's journey to the ringside table, where it finally comes to a stop. Both men immediately look up at each other and lock eyes. They step towards each other, hardly hearing Hebner's instructions as neither man's focus changes. Finally, the two men come chest to chest. Strangler bumps up against Flesher and stares down at the much smaller man. Flesher doesn't hesitate, and looks up into Strangler's face with an extremely determined look. Strangler merely flashes a grin, and steps backwards, looking at Hebner.

"What a fight this is gonna be, Bobby! Two of the best in this federation today will square off to determine who truly deserves to be the SWF Champion!" Stevens looks to Riley for a response, but before Riley's trademark idiocy can be unleashed, the crowd goes nuts as Hebner sounds for the bell to signal the start of the matchup.

DING DING DING!!!!!!!!!!

The roar of the crowd is a distant afterthought to both men, who begin to circle each other. The unsettling grin remains on Strangler's face as he circles around, staring at Tom Flesher's emotionless expression. Strangler steps forwards towards Tom, and mutters something to Flesher. Flesher doesn't even allow Strangler to finish before drilling him square across the cheek with a open-hand slap. The crowd goes silent as Strangler puts a hand to his cheek, and then looks up at Tom with a pissed-off look quickly coming over his face. "Oooh, a bitchslap. That's some manly offense there, Riley" laughs Mark as Strangler starts to step towards Flesher.

"Oh, shut up, Stevens. At least his finisher doesn't involve sticking your opponent's head between your thighs, you pathetic litt…oh, crap." Riley is silenced, but the rest of the building explodes as Strangler leads with his trademark right cross, drilling Tom Flesher in the jaw. Tom tries to hold his ground, but has no choice to stagger backwards a step and put a hand to his jaw, surprised by the force of the blow. Tom looks up and has to quickly sidestep a running clothesline by Strangler, then grabs ahold of Strangler's arm in an armbar. He tries to take Strangler down to the mat, but Strangler holds his ground and stays on his feet. Flesher stops applying pressure, and Strangler immediately starts backing Flesher into the corner. Tom slams against the turnbuckle and releases his grip on Strangler's arm. Strangler takes a step back, then charges into the corner and drills Flesher in the chest. Flesher recoils back into the turnbuckle and takes a deep breath, trying to get breath back into his lungs as Strangler backs off and takes a quick walk around the ring, which is greeted with another round of cheers from the wild crowd.

"What an idiotic move by Strangler here!" exclaims Riley, shocked at Strangler's actions. "He manages to catch a lucky break and actually gets the better of Tom Flesher, and what does he do? He stupidly backs off and plays to the crowd, looking to get a cheap pop instead of taking the clear advantage!"

"Riley, I might have to agree with you here. Strangler really should be focusing more on the match rather than pandering to the crowd. However, Strangler still does have the advantage." Stevens is hardly finished speaking when Flesher steps out of the corner, his eyes locked on Strangler. Strangler turns and walks straight into a hard shotei to the center of his ribcage. Strangler takes one step backwards, steadies himself, and glares down at Flesher, challenging him to try again. Flesher launches another uncontested shotei straight into Strangler's ribcage, but this time Strangler doesn't even budge. He looks down at Tom once again, a patronizing look on his face, before challenging him yet again. Flesher, with frustration beginning to creep across his face, launches a third shotei, but Strangler steps to the side and fends off the shotei. Tom's momentum sends him stumbling forwards, and Strangler capitalizes by stepping in behind Flesher and locking on a rear sleeper hold.

"A good move by Strangler here early" declares Stevens. "He'll slowly start to sap Flesher's strength, which should make Flesher slower in the ring, as well as make him more prone to a mental mistake." Strangler continues to apply the sleeper, twisting the arm tighter and tighter around Flesher's throat, as the crowd watches intently, hoping against hope for Flesher to submit. Flesher, looking around with wild eyes, quickly throws a back elbow that catches Strangler in the kidney. The blow weakens Strangler's grip momentarily, and Flesher takes the advantage. He grabs Strangler's right arm, which has been wrapped around his throat, and drops to the ground, locking in the armbar. Strangler struggles towards the ropes, and quickly reaches them. Flesher fails to immediately release the hold, causing Hebner to walk over and begin the five count. As he reaches four, Flesher releases the hold and gets to his feet, with the businesslike look restored to his face. "Looks like Strangler isn't the only one to try and wear down his opponent early, Stevens" counters Riley. "That's the second armbar attempt by Flesher early on in the match. Looks like his strategy is to take away Strangler's ability to lift him into the air. And Strangler's two most devastating moves, the Plunge and the Boston Massacre, rely on Strangler's huge strength advantage. This could make things even harder for Strangler. Facing Tom Flesher should be enough of a handicap for anyone, ESPECIALLY Strangler."

Flesher immediately goes back on the attack. He stomps away with his massive Doc Marten boots at Strangler's unguarded back, causing TBS to roll onto his side, trying to protect himself. Flesher follows it up with a swift toe kick into the small of Strangler's back, which finds its mark. Strangler arches his back and lets out a yowl as pain radiates through his lower back area. Flesher reaches down and hoists Strangler to his feet, straining himself to lift up the massive Bostonian. "This could be a mistake by Flesher here, Bobby. Why go through all that trouble to bring the big man down, only to pull him right back up?" Stevens' words are proven to be correct almost immediately, as Flesher's Irish whip attempt is countered into a stiff clothesline from Strangler, dropping Flesher to the mat like a sack of potatoes.

"Flesher's just playing possum, Riley…that has to be it…" Riley is the only person in the arena who seems to be worried about Flesher, as Strangler's clothesline has re-energized the fans. A small "STRANG-LER! STRANG-LER!" chant has started up in the balconies of the arena, which Strangler acknowledges with a quick wave. "And there he goes again, Stevens! Sooner or later, and probably sooner, Tom Flesher is gonna capitalize on this!" Strangler walks over to Flesher, but the Superior One springs upwards and tackles Strangler's leg, looking for the takedown. "See, Mark? I TOLD you!" cackles Riley as Strangler teeters backwards. To Riley's chagrin, however, Strangler stays on his feet. He balances, and then catches Tom Flesher square in the face with a huge kick. The crowd gasps as Flesher falls backwards onto the mat, holding his injured face as Strangler stalks around the ring with a satisfied look on his face, trying to decide what to do next.

"You know the expression, Riley. One good kick deserves another!" Stevens chuckles to himself as Riley just looks as Stevens. "You realize you're a total tool, right Mark?"

Strangler grabs Flesher and pulls him up to his feet, still looking somewhat lost as to what he should do next. He hesitates for a moment, then whips Flesher towards the ropes. Flesher bounces off the ropes, then goes charging back towards Strangler. He manages to duck under a big boot from Strangler, and rebounds off the other set of ropes. He flies forward with an avalanche attack, but Strangler throws out a knee, catching Tom square in the stomach. Flesher doubles over, and Strangler quickly hoists him up over his head in a gorilla press position.

"Massacre time! Masscare time! Strangler could go up 1-0 right now, and put Flesher at a major disadvantage early on!" Stevens' prediction fails to come true, however, as Flesher grabs Strangler's right arm and slides off forwards. Flesher flips forwards and lands on his back as he drags Strangler down to the mat as well. Strangler's arm is wrenched into an uncomfortable position, prompting a grunt from the Superstation. Flesher keeps his grip locked onto Strangler's right arm and applies another armbar. "Some finisher, huh Stevens?" barks Riley as Strangler cries out in pain as Flesher tightens the armbar even tighter. "Well, Strangler is in a hard place right now, as Tom Flesher has the Boston Strangler locked down securely in the middle of the ring. But Strangler is SO much stronger than Flesher that I find it hard to believe that Tom, no matter how superior he thinks he is…" "No, no, no, Stevens, he KNOWS he is." "…no matter how superior he THINKS he is, there's no way he's strong enough to keep Strangler from reaching those ropes eventually."

Strangler struggles towards the ropes, his arm obviously causing him a good deal of pain. Strangler's left arm reaches out, clawing closer and closer towards the ropes as Flesher does everything in his power to keep him from moving even closer to his target. Strangler continues to thrash forward, and finally wraps three fingertips around the bottom rope. Strangler solidifies his grip as Mark Hebner forces Flesher to break the hold. Flesher gets up and looks down at Strangler, who is favoring his right shoulder, He notices Flesher staring at him, and releases his shoulder as he tries to push himself up, but as soon as he applies pressure to his right arm, he winces and drops back to his knees. For the first time, a small, malicious grin creeps over Flesher's face.

"Stevens, if I were the Boston Strangler, I wouldn't like the look of that smile on Tom Flesher's face! He knows that his prey is wounded, and it's only a matter of time before Flesher seals the deal…as if it wasn't a forgone conclusion already." Stevens remains silent, intent on watching Strangler, who is still struggling to pull himself up. The grin on Flesher's face disappears as quickly as it appeared, however, and Flesher immediately turns around and sprints towards the ropes. He bounces off them, and comes flying back towards Strangler. He leaps into the air and lands on Strangler's shoulder with a brutal double stomp, sending Strangler into convulsions on the canvas. "Ouch….that's GOTTA hurt…right, Stevens?" Riley snickers as Stevens shoots a gaze back at Riley and then turns his attention back to the ring.

Strangler starts to push himself up again, doing his best to avoid putting pressure on his right arm, when Tom Flesher comes sprinting forward and drills Strangler in the shoulder with a hard dropkick straight into that same right shoulder. Strangler goes falling back onto his side as Flesher gets up to a hard round of boos from the crowd. Flesher ignores the crowd and gets up, with the determined look on his face never varying.

"Stevens, Flesher has come out with an INCREDIBLE game plan. He's taken out Strangler's right shoulder, which has two effects. Number one, it takes away most of Strangler's high-impact offense, and number two, it destroys a good deal of Strangler's ability to reverse Flesher's offense. Now Tom is firmly in the driver's seat, he can stick with his superior moveset, and Strangler has no ability to change this around! Brilliance once again from the glorious Tom Flesher!"

"Well, Bobby, Tom is in control now, but NEVER count out the Boston Strangler! He's one of the toughest bastards ever to compete in the SWF! He once kicked out after being hit by a CAR! Some men might not be able to compete after an injury like this, but Strangler is still very much in this!" Strangler is still trying to get himself back up off the mat as Flesher looks over the massive frame of his adversary, formulating his plan of attack. Flesher looks down at Strangler, on all fours, then reaches down and grabs ahold of Strangler's right arm. He yanks Strangler up roughly as he torques the forearm, applying even more pressure to the injured shoulder. Strangler staggers upwards, dazed from the pain running through his arm.

"Right now, Strangler really looks out of it, Stevens. Flesher could land a big move here and get that first pinfall right here!" Flesher sets himself and whips Strangler into the corner, where the big Bostonian collapses against the turnbuckles. "You mean a big move like that, Riley?" "Shut up" mutters Riley as Flesher charges forward and lands a shotei on Strangler's right collarbone. Strangler moans and reaches up to grab his shoulder. Flesher takes a step back and positions himself in front of Strangler in a slight crouch. Strangler ignores Flesher as he leans back against the turnbuckle, resting his head against the metal ringpost. Flesher flashes another momentary grin before readying himself. "Riley, I think I know what Flesher is planning…and god, this match could be done if he lands this move!" Flesher lashes out his foot and sends a vicious Yakuza kick headed straight for Strangler's head.

"Oh no…yes! He dodged it, Riley! He dodged it!" Stevens' delight is echoed by the rest of the arena as Flesher's right foot connects with nothing but the ringpost, sending a metallic echo throughout the arena. Flesher turns around, hopping on one foot before Strangler drills him with a massive clothesline. Flesher goes tumbling backwards and falls backwards over the top rope to the floor below as Strangler drops to both knees. He quickly regains his composure, and hits the canvas as he rolls under the bottom rope to the outside to join Flesher.

"Strangler better remember that this match has DQ and countout in effect, Stevens! He could lose a pinfall out here!" Stevens replies, "Well, Flesher better remember the same things, Riley." Strangler walks over to Tom and pulls Flesher up to his feet with his left arm. Tom is still slightly favoring his foot as Strangler grabs Flesher by the back of his singlet and walks him over towards the crowd barrier to the right of the announce table. He quickly grabs Tom by the back of his head and smashes it face-first into the crowd barrier. The crowd cheers, and fans reach over the barricade to pat Strangler on the back as he backs up towards the ring. Hebner yells at Strangler to enter the ring, but Strangler ignores it, prompting Hebner to begin the 10 count. Strangler then charges forward and leaps into the air. However, Flesher rolls out of the way, and Strangler instead drills the crowd barricade with his body splash.

"And Strangler makes an incredibly stupid mistake there, and gives control of the match back to Tom Flesher. Stevens, Strangler has made a number of big mistakes here, which is just more proof that he's not championship material like Tom Flesher is!" Flesher looks at Strangler, who is folded over the crowd barrier with his top half in the crowd, and backs up, looking for some offense of his own. Flesher charges forward, but Strangler shoots out his right foot with a back kick that manages to connect with Tom square in the groin. Flesher lets out a huge groan and doubles over as the fans go nuts.

"What's with these fans, Stevens? They CHEER a man for CHEATING!" Stevens chuckles, and replies, "Well Riley, I think it's not that they're happy to see Strangler cheat, but they're happy to see Tom Flesher in pain." "Figures. When they see someone like Flesher or myself, who happen to be SO superior to them, they want to see them take a fall." Stevens rolls his eyes as Strangler pushes himself off the barrier and turns to face Flesher. Tom lifts his head up, still in a good deal of pain, and takes one step forward before Strangler catches Flesher by the leg and lifts him up before dropping him back down, chin-first, on the crowd barrier. Flesher shoots up before falling backwards onto his back. Strangler is about to walk over to Flesher, when the call of Mark Hebner calling out "SEVE N!" catches his attention. He looks at Flesher, with an longing expression on his face, before rolling back into the ring. Flesher struggles up to his feet, then hears Hebner call out "NINE!".

"He better hurry himself up, Riley, or else he's gonna lose one of those falls right now on a countout!" However, Flesher throws himself into the ring just before the ten count, managing to avoid the DQ. However, Flesher's haste leaves him wide-open to a knee drop across the back of his skull by Strangler. Flesher rolls over and then lies motionless on the canvas, with his right hand desperately trying to protect the back of his skull. Strangler reaches down with his good left arm and pulls the docile Flesher to his feet before throwing him into the corner. Strangler leans back, then flies into Flesher with a knife-edge chop across the chest. The CRACK! from the blow echoes throughout the arena, which is immediately followed up by a hearty WHOO! from the crowd. Strangler leans back, and drills Flesher again.

CRACK!

WHOOOOOO!

CRACK!

WHOOOOOO!

CRACK!

WHOOOOOO!

"Riley, it's hard to tell the extent of the injury to Strangler's shoulder. Before, he was heavily favoring it, but right now he's having very little trouble laying into Flesher with those chops!" Stevens looks somewhat confused as he looks down at his match notes, flipping through his play by play. Meanwhile, Strangler leans back, and flies forward with one last knife-edge chop. Flesher manages to duck down and grabs ahold of Strangler's leg, taking him down to the mat with a single leg takedown. This time, it does its job, and Strangler goes crashing back-first to the canvas. "Strangler's shoulder might be feeling better now, but with Flesher back on the warpath, I wouldn't count on that keeping up, Mark."

Flesher takes advantage of the rare opportunity and immediately grabs ahold of Strangler's leg. Strangler thrashes about, and thrusts his leg forwards. Flesher goes flying off his leg and hits the ropes as Strangler starts to pull himself up to his feet. Strangler groans as he reaches his vertical base, but immediately goes tumbling to the mat as Flesher comes flying back into the picture and catches Strangler with a stiff dropkick to the knee. Strangler starts to push himself up by sitting up, but Flesher is upon him immediately. Strangler feels Flesher's hand start to sneak around his throat, and before he can react, TBS finds himself locked into a standard sitting dragon sleeper by Tom Flesher.

"Riley, this is HIGHLY irregular" comments Stevens. "Tom Flesher has always been a huge fan of the dragon sleeper, and uses two variations of it in his moveset. However, I never recall seeing a standard dragon from him before. I wonder what could have inspired this course of events?" Strangler struggles to free himself, while Flesher uses every ounce of strength in his body to continue to pin Strangler against the mat. Strangler reaches out for the ropes with his right foot, but his salvation is still a few feet away from him. "Stevens, this is the deal. In his first matchup with Strangler, Flesher tried the back-mounted dragon, and Strangler got lucky and reversed it. So Flesher, who's afraid that Strangler's luck might continue, decided to go with something a little more unorthodox. It makes perfect sense, really."

Finally, Strangler manages to gather his strength, and start to push himself up to his feet. Tom Flesher continues to keep the hold locked on, tightening his vise-like grip on Strangler throat to drain the energy from Strangler's massive body. However, the big man proves to be too much for Flesher as he manages to get himself into a full standing position, with Flesher still perched upon his back, his arm still circled around Strangler's neck. Strangler takes a couple steps around the ring with the helpless Flesher upon his back, drawing a round of mocking cheers directed at Flesher. "Flesher looks like he went barking up the wrong tree, Riley." Stevens stifles a chuckle, but quickly looks up as Flesher swings out and manages to land a kick to the back of Strangler's knee, weakening his vertical base. Flesher then propels himself backwards, keeping his arm locked around Strangler's neck, and drives the Bostonian to the floor with a HUGE reverse DDT. Flesher reaches over and drapes an arm across Strangler as Hebner drops into position for the count.

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

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

THR……………..

"Strangler kicked out! A hard-looking move there by Flesher, but Strangler managed to muster the strength to kick out."

"Hey, Stevens, did you realize that that right there was the first pinfall attempt of the match?"

"Can't say that I did, Riley."

"Well, I think that this HAS to favor Flesher. He's more adept at submissions, and when Flesher has to kick out, he'll expend a ton of energy. Right now, Flesher's been playing offense all day, and if he can keep this up and continue to exploit injuries to his opponent, you might as well stop watching right now, since this match is OVER."

Tom Flesher gets up to his feet, with the ever-present confident expression on his face. He reaches down and grabs ahold of the Bostonian, pulling him to his feet. Strangler, still fazed from the sleeper and reverse DDT, doesn't put up a struggle as Tom Flesher whips Strangler into the corner once again. Strangler goes crashing into the corner and allows his 300+ pound frame to slump into the corner, with the fatigue setting over his face. Flesher steps forward and slaps the taste out of Strangler's mouth with a wicked bitchslap, but Strangler hardly responds. Flesher grins sadistically, and follows up with a hard kick to Strangler's knee. TBS slumps down into a crouch, and a hard shotei sends him falling all the way to the canvas in a sitting position. "I don't think I'd ever see what I'm seeing here tonight, Riley, but it looks like Tom Flesher is out-brawling the Boston Strangler right here…it boggles the mind!"

"Don't worry, Mark. My mind is boggled as well when I try to consider how friggin' good Tom Flesher is." Stevens simply returns his gaze to his papers as Strangler looks around the arena, totally oblivious to the silent crowd. Flesher, in the hushed arena, approaches TBS and extends his foot, smashing it into Strangler's face. The boot crams into Strangler's chin, and Flesher begins to scrape the boot all over Strangler's face. "This is just sad right now, Stevens! Strangler isn't even defending himself. I'd end it right here and now if I were Tom Flesher…and oh, how I wish I was."

Flesher's sadistic grin grows bigger and bigger as he mashes his left boot into Strangler's face. The Doc Marten is obviously taking a huge toll on Strangler as he squirms, trying to find any way to escape. Suddenly, Strangler's hands wrap around Flesher's boot, which draws an immediate cheer from the crowd. Flesher looks panicked as he tries to escape, but Strangler's iron grip stays strong. He starts to stand up, still holding Tom's leg. Flesher hops on his right leg until Strangler pushes Flesher's leg off to the side. Flesher twirls 180 degrees, giving Strangler the opportunity to lock Tom into a full nelson. Flesher tries a back kick, but TBS avoids it and then hoists Flesher into the air before smashing him down to the canvas. "Strangler just nailed him with that full nelson atomic drop, and now he's going for the pinfall! Riley, this could be the first pinfall!" Strangler rolls over and hooks Flesher's leg as Hebner drops down to make the cover.

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

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

THRE……..NO!

"Flesher gets a couple seconds rest, makes Strangler think that he's gotten a pinfall, then kicks out. Brilliant strategizing by Flesher there." Flesher rolls onto his side, rubbing his tailbone, while Strangler pulls himself to his feet, still favoring his right shoulder. "Riley, it does look like Strangler's shoulder might be holding up. He's managed to pull off some maneuvers that indicate that he's got the majority of his strength back, and that could be the difference-maker in this matchup."

"Don’t worry, Stevens. Strangler will find a way to fuck himself over before too long." Strangler grabs ahold of Flesher and pulls him up to a standing position before throwing a knee into Tom's stomach. Flesher doubles over and Strangler pulls him into his body. As the crowd cheers, Strangler hoists Flesher into a piledriver position. Strangler sets himself, then jumps into the air, drilling Flesher head-first into the canvas with a jumping piledriver. "Wow, look at Strangler screw up, Riley!" guffaws Stevens as Strangler rolls over and tries for the cover again.

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

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

THREE!!.........NO!

"And Flesher barely kicked out of that one! Strangler has really taken the advantage here in this matchup!" Strangler looks up at Hebner, surprised that he hadn't gotten the three count. Strangler reaches down and pulls Flesher into a standing position. Strangler whips Flesher against the ropes, then catches Flesher square in the jaw with a big boot. Flesher drops to the mat, but starts to push himself up. Strangler walks over to Flesher and elbows him in the side of the head. Flesher goes staggering backwards into the corner, with Strangler closely following him. Flesher has no chance to protect himself before Strangler sends a massive right jab into his ribs. Flesher doubles over, and Strangler clubs him over the back with a huge right hammer. When Flesher goes shooting up from the pain, Strangler follows with a sharp left uppercut. Flesher reels backwards into the turnbuckles once again, and Strangler opens up, throwing punch after punch into Flesher's midsection.

"The champ is on the ropes! Flesher might be down and out now! Strangler got back to his strengths, which are those two big soup bones of his, and Tom Flesher is seeing exactly how dangerous Strangler is when he's in his element." Stevens looks over to Riley, with a smirk on his face. "What was that you were saying about Strangler fucking up, Riley?" Riley's sour face tells the entire story. "Don't you worry, Stevens. It's STRANGLER. He'll fuck it up sooner or later."

Strangler steps back for a second and winds up, looking for his trademark finishing right cross. Flesher suddenly leans forward in the turnbuckle and lashes out, connecting with a simply nasty-looking kick straight into Strangler's groin. "THERE it is, Stevens! See?" Hebner chastises Flesher, but stops short of DQ'ing him as Strangler doubles over, clutching his groin. "He cheated, Riley, he cheated! How is that incredible? It's just wrong!" Flesher steps onto the 2nd turnbuckle as Strangler, with his back turned to Flesher, falls backwards towards the turnbuckle. Tom looks at his positioning, then grins as he applies a half-nelson to Strangler.

"What the heck is Flesher doing?" mutters Stevens as Flesher locks the half nelson tightly onto Strangler. Flesher straightens up on the turnbuckle, and then looks straight at Mark Stevens, with a huge smile on his face. Stevens looks over, then realizes what's happening. "Oh dear god…" mutters Stevens, with an ashen look on his face. Flesher turns backs to Strangler, and kicks the back of Strangler's leg, weakening his pillar before leaping forwards off the turnbuckle. Strangler's leg gives out, and he goes crashing face-first into the canvas. The crowd is dead silent as Flesher falls onto his side, looking totally drained.

"JOKER'S WILD! JOKER'S WILD! Flesher just gave Strangler the Joker's Wild off the 2nd rope! Stevens, did you see that? Flesher just used the Suicide King's old finisher to absolutely destroy the Boston Strangler!" Riley's crowing is easily heard throughout the silenced arena as Tom Flesher finally manages to crawl over on top of the absolutely motionless Boston Strangler. Mark Hebner slides over and begins the count.

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

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

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

DING DING!

"The winner of the first fall, the "SUPERIOR ONE", TOM FLEEEESHERRRRRRRRRR!!!!!"

Flesher pushes himself up and looks down at the beaten and battered Strangler. He thinks for a moment, then drops down to the canvas and positions himself of top of Strangler's back, He applies a dragon sleeper again as Strangler flinches once, then stops moving. The fans cheer Strangler on, with a big "T-B-S! T-B-S!" chant getting started throughout the arena. "Superior Stretch! Superior Stretch! Damn, Stevens, Flesher could get both falls within a minute!"

"Strangler's goose isn't cooked quite yet, Riley. Remember, he's escaped from the Superior Stretch Beta before against Tom Flesher." "Stevens, at that point, he wasn't knocked unconscious, like he seems to be now. TBS is DONE!" Strangler continues to lie lifeless on the canvas as Flesher tightens the dragon sleeper. Hebner walks over and inspects Strangler, and bends over, looking at Strangler's face. He reaches down and takes ahold of Strangler's hand. He raises the hand into the air and drops it, watching as Strangler's hand falls straight to the canvas.

"It's OVER, Stevens! OVER!" crows Riley as Hebner raises Strangler's hand into the air a second time, and allows it to drop to the canvas again. Strangler continues to lie motionless, and the fan support has died down a good deal, with a few scattered "T-B-S!" chants still lingering throughout the arena. Flesher strains backwards with all the force he can muster, sapping every last ounce of energy he can from Strangler's broken-down body. Hebner pauses a second, and then lifts Strangler's hand up again. He hesitates, prompting a harsh bark from Flesher, and then drops the hand once again. Strangler's hand falls towards the canvas, and Flesher loosens the grip….until Strangler's hand leaps up, only inches away from the canvas.

"He's still in this match, Riley! It's gonna continue!" Stevens is exultant as the fans echo his sentiment, bursting into huge rounds of cheers. Flesher locks the dragon sleeper back on even tighter, but Strangler's second wind has given the Bostonian renewed strength. Strangler reaches up and grabs Tom Flesher by the head, and starts to pull him forward. "This is the same way that Strangler reversed the Superior Stretch Beta earlier! Flesher made a huge error in judgment, and now he's gonna pay for it!" Strangler manages to fully yank Flesher off his back and to the mat in front of him, drawing an even bigger ovation from the crowd.

"Strangler might be back on the prowl here!" cries Stevens as Strangler gets to his feet, looking extremely pissed off. Strangler picks a half-standing Flesher up off the canvas and immediately knees Flesher in the stomach. Flesher doubles over, and Strangler grabs ahold of Flesher. He yanks Flesher's head over to his side, and sends Tom Flesher crashing to the canvas with a double-armed DDT. The crowd goes nuts as Strangler immediately rolls over and covers Flesher, with Hebner immediately in position to make the count.

ONE!!!!!!!!!!

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

THREEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!-NO!

"Flesher kicks out, and the match stays in favor of Flesher!" screams Riley. Strangler, however, stays in control of the match. He picks himself up quickly as Flesher stumbles upwards, barely able to keep his balance. Strangler watches intently as Flesher staggers around the ring, then turns back towards Strangler and walks straight into Strangler's outstretched hand. Strangler's hand locks around Flesher's throat, sending the crowd into hysterics. Strangler signals with a hand into the air, and then lifts Flesher into the air. Flesher is suspended in mid-air for a moment, then sent smashing towards the canvas. "PLUNGE! PLUNGE! Strangler hits the Plunge!" exclaims Stevens. The "Superior One" crashes into the mat, and lies there motionless as Strangler drops down to the canvas again. He hooks the leg, wincing as he does so, and waits for Hebner to make the count.

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

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

THREE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!-NO!

"Strangler actually managed to hit the Plunge on Flesher, and Flesher STILL has the ability to kick out! What incredible ability by Flesher!" "Riley, this might be true, but Strangler has beat the living hell out of Flesher recently, and Flesher is one move away from going down for the three count!"

"Stevens, that might be true," explains Riley, "but right now, Strangler's really favoring that shoulder he injured earlier. That chokeslam seems to have taken a LOT out of him, and although he's going for the Boston Massacre, I don't think he can pull it off!" Strangler waits for Flesher to shake the cobwebs out of his head, then grabs ahold of Flesher's singlet, yanking him up to his feet. Flesher stumbles around again, doing his best imitation of the town drunk, as he falls against the ropes. He turns around, and sees the Boston Strangler standing a few feet behind him, inviting him to bring it on. Flesher charges forward, and runs straight into Strangler hoisting him into a gorilla press. The fans go nuts again as Strangler's right arm shudders under the weight of Tom Flesher, then gives out as Flesher falls to the ground. The crowd groans in disappointment as Strangler falls to both knees, holding his right shoulder and doing his best to hide his pain.

"What'd I tell ya, Stevens? Strangler's shoulder is done, and when he can't lift anyone, his ability to win is done as well." Stevens counters, "Strangler has plenty of moves which don't require him to lift Flesher. I wouldn't consider it anything more than a setback." Strangler nurses his shoulder on the ground, then starts to get to his feet at the same time as Tom Flesher, who is still somewhat dazed. Strangler gets to his feet first and slams his right foot into Flesher's stomach, doubling the SWF Champion over. Strangler steps forwards and places Flesher into a double underhook before starting to pull Flesher up onto his shoulder in Canadian backbreaker position. However, Strangler halts after lifting Flesher halfway up. He keeps the underhook applied, but allows Flesher to drop back to his feet on the canvas.

"Totally, TOTALLY done for, Stevens. He's like a wounded little bird, waiting to get pinned by the SWF champion, the man who's made a career out of exploiting injuries like this." Riley's confidence is mirrored in the face of Tom Flesher, who seems to have regained his senses. Strangler tries to lift Flesher again, but his shoulder betrays him again, and Flesher is returned to terra firma. Flesher immediately thrusts his shoulder forward, slamming into Strangler's exposed gut. Strangler releases the double underhook, freeing Tom Flesher. Flesher quickly switches behind Strangler and applies a rear waistlock before lifting Strangler into the air, and drilling him with an extremely impressive German suplex. "Now THAT'S an impressive show of physical strength by Flesher there! Much more interesting than anything that Strangler's managed to do in this matchup! Stevens, what did YOU think of that?" Stevens just watches Strangler go crashing into the canvas and roll towards the middle of the ring, knocked loopy. Flesher gets up, and immediately heads for the corner, where he starts to scale the turnbuckle.

"What the heck is Flesher doing, Riley? He sure as hell hasn't made a career out of being a high-flyer, which seems to be his idea right now!" Riley responds, "As you've made a huge deal out of, Strangler seems to know Flesher pretty well. Therefore, he'll pull out some of his less-seen moves to take this one. And I think I know exactly what Tom has in mind here!" Flesher reaches the top of the turnbuckles and pauses, looking around the entire arena. After taking it all in with his eyes, he inhales deeply, and sends himself flying off the corner. Cameras go off all over the building as Flesher extends himself before landing head-first on Strangler's right shoulder. Flesher rolls off to the side, holding his head in a good deal of pain, as Strangler shoots up before falling back to the canvas, clutching his shoulder and yowling even louder than before.

"Flesher lands the headbutt! Strangler's shoulder is falling apart faster than the Boston Red Sox in September! The end of this match is imminent, and Strangler hasn't even gotten a pinfall yet! What a humiliating experience this must be for Strangler!" As Riley sings Flesher's praises once again, Tom crawls over towards Strangler, who is rolling around, trying to forget about the pain. Flesher grabs Strangler by the injured right shoulder and throws him to the canvas, eliciting another cry from Strangler, before applying a lateral press for the attempted pinfall. "This is it, Stevens, this is the end of this one!"

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

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

THREE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!-NO!!!!

“NO! Strangler kicks out! Strangler is still alive, Riley!” “Stevens, he might be, but it’s by the edge of his fucking teeth, and Flesher is THIS CLOSE to ending it once and for all.” Flesher slams his fist against the mat, frustrated at Strangler’s vitality, and follows it up by smashing Strangler’s shoulder with a hard shotei. Strangler howls in pain once again, and rolls away towards the ropes as Flesher gets to his feet, visibly frustrated. He grabs ahold of Strangler and whips him towards the ropes. Strangler manages to set himself, and reverses the Irish whip, sending Flesher heading towards the ropes instead. Flesher comes bouncing back, and walks straight into Strangler, who lifts Thoth off the canvas into the air. Strangler, using his left arm to support Flesher, holds him for a second, then plants him into the canvas with a somewhat off-balance spinebuster. “What a superb transistion by Strangler! He’s back in the ballgame, folks!” calls out Stevens.

Strangler stays standing, seemingly at a loss for what to do. He looks down at Flesher, and then stares around the arena, even looking up at the SmarkTron™ for inspiration. “Jeez, I knew Strangler was dumb, but how fucking stupid can you be not to understand that he needs to either PIN Flesher, or HURT HIM SOME MORE? Damn, Stevens, your boy here is dumber than you are!” Finally, TBS looks down and sees the two announcers sitting at the table. Strangler grins, and pulls Flesher up to his feet. He slams his knee into Flesher’s stomach, and as Flesher doubles over, clutching his stomach, Strangler brings one hand into the air, twirling it around. Stevens’ eyes light up as Strangler grabs Flesher into a double underhook, and then sends Tom into the canvas with a picture-perfect Walk Off.

“WALK OFF! STRANGLER HITS THE WALK-OFF! And Riley, Flesher is GONE right now!” Stevens’ joy is obvious as Strangler flips Riley onto his back and hooks the leg. Mark Hebner, already in position, begins the three count, with the chorus of SWF fans chanting along with him.

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

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

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

DING DING!!!!

“Your winner of the second pinfall, the BOSTON….STRRRRRRRRRRANGLER!”

“Strangler just pinned Tom Flesher with the Walk Off, which is a definite comeback to Flesher pinning Strangler with the Joker’s Wild earlier. Right now, the score is tied up 1 to 1, and Strangler has a definite advantage. Strangler is in the driver’s seat right now, Riley.” Riley sharply replies, “Oh, shut up, Stevens. He uses your old finisher, and you love the crazy bastard. He has no shoulder, no brains, and no FUCKING CHANCE of winning this match!”

June 24, 2003

Strangler looks over at Flesher, and immediately goes for a second cover. The buzzing fans explode once again as Hebner, having just gotten up, sighs and drops back down to the mat for the cover.

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

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

THREE!!!!!!!!!!!-NO!

“And Tom Flesher manages to kick out this time! But Strangler damn near won the match there, nearly getting TWO pinfalls with the Walk Off!” “Goddamn shill…” mutters Riley as Strangler gets up, unfazed at Flesher’s kickout. Tom starts to roll over, trying to focus on the match at hand as he stares up into the bright lights of the arena. Strangler walks over to the corner and climbs up onto the second turnbuckle, cueing a few flashbulbs from the sold-out Calgary audience. Strangler watches Tom Flesher as he works his way to his feet, still somewhat off-balance, and then launches himself off the 2nd rope as far as he can go. Flesher never sees him coming, and gets knocked down to the floor by Strangler’s double axe handle. Flesher rolls onto his side, and Strangler is immediately on top of him. He grabs Flesher, tugging him to his feet by the singlet.

“Strangler is simply brutalizing Tom Flesher right now! The SWF World Champion might not have much more time with that belt if this keeps up!” Strangler takes ahold of Flesher, and ducks down, putting Tom Flesher onto his shoulders in a fireman’s carry position. Strangler absorbs the bulk of the weight with his good left shoulder before taking Tom and dropping him down onto his knee with a nasty-looking stomach crusher. The breath goes rushing out of Flesher as he drops to the canvas, where he is soon followed by Strangler, who drops down on top of Flesher for the pinfall attempt.

ONE!!!!!!!!!

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

THREEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!-NO!

“Tom Flesher manages to kick out there, but Strangler is really wearing Flesher down. Strangler knows that the end could be near, and he’s gonna try to pin Flesher at every opportunity.” Stevens’ words seem to be very accurate, as Strangler drops down and covers Flesher again, hooking the leg as he goes.

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

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

THREEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!-NO!

Strangler gets up again with a satisfied look on his face. Flesher pulls himself up by the ropes, struggling to get to his feet as Strangler walks over to him in the corner. Flesher is leaning face-first against the turnbuckle, trying to catch his breath, when he feels Strangler’s hands wrap around him in a rear waistlock. Strangler pulls backwards, but Flesher grabs ahold of the ropes and holds tight, refusing to go for a ride. Strangler breaks the rear waistlock and throws a vicious forearm at Tom’s temple. Flesher goes reeling from the blow, losing his grip on the ropes in the process. Strangler sets himself, then sends Flesher flying back over his head. Flesher goes twirling backwards and does a flip in midair before face-planting squarely on the canvas in the opposite corner. The crowd is going nuts, shocked at the move, as Strangler shakes out the cobwebs and rubs his right shoulder a little bit before walking over and inspecting Flesher. “Now THIS is it, Riley” remarks Stevens. “This has to be the end of the match right here. No one can get up from a move like that!”

“Too bad your boy’s too stupid to realize that, Stevens. He’s not even going for the pinfall….it looks like he’s going to the top rope! What kind of idiot is this guy? He weighs 300 POUNDS! No flying for you!” Strangler ignores Riley’s perhaps-apt advice and begins to scale the turnbuckles, heading straight for the top. Strangler reaches the top rope and bends down, doing his best to keep his balance in his precarious position. Flesher is lying on his back, stirring slightly, as Strangler straightens up, looking down below with an apprehensive face. “Stevens, what the hell is Strangler gonna do up there?” asks Riley as he watches Strangler prepare himself for the dive. “I have no clue what to expect, Riley, but that seems to be the way that this match is going so far. The two of them have gone SO far outside their normal movesets to prove who truly is the better man…whatever it is, it should be incredible.”

Strangler finally seems ready, and looks up quickly at the roof before turning his gaze back on Tom Flesher and launching himself through the air. Flesher merely lies there as Strangler stretches out, setting himself for a guillotine legdrop to Flesher’s unprotected head as flashbulbs erupt throughout the arena. Finally, gravity pulls Strangler down, sending him crashing down straight onto……an empty mat. Strangler crumples to the ground as Tom Flesher, rolled off to one side, looks at the downed giant and laughs. “Flesher played possum, Mark, he played possum, and he played it better than anyone else who’s come before him! What a superb move by Flesher!” lauds Riley.

Flesher gets to his feet as Strangler rolls onto his stomach, totally drained from his top-rope debacle. Flesher walks over to Strangler’s head and pulls Strangler up into a sitting position. Strangler sits up limply, only supported by Tom’s frame, as Flesher quickly applies a double chickenwing to Strangler. The fans stare intently at Flesher, unsure of what they’re about to see, as Flesher sets himself, then flips himself over Strangler’s head, completing the bridge. Strangler immediately gets yanked back into the real world as a jolt of pain rips through his shoulder. “That’s the Harmony, the submission maneuver used by former M7 member Fugue!” calls Stevens. “That move has to be devestating to Strangler’s already-badly injured shoulder!”

“Yeah, they should just call this one right here and give it to Flesher!” adds Riley. “I mean, save Strangler the humiliation of having to tap out and all.” “Riley, that’s not going to happen. Strangler will find a way out of this maneuver somehow!” Stevens seems to be the only person sure of that idea right now, as Strangler is straining to escape the double chickenwing hold that Flesher has locked on tightly, as Flesher tries to keep the bridge on the much, MUCH larger man. The two men struggle while Strangler screams out in pain, desperately seeking relief for his shoulder. “How much longer until this one is over?” asks Riley. “I wanna get back to the hotel room and watch a movie or something. Let’s end this NOW!”

Strangler continues to strain, trying to angle one of his feet towards the ropes, but Flesher has Strangler set up towards the middle of the ring, well separated from the ropes on all sides. Strangler shakes his arms and legs side-to-side, but Flesher displays amazing strength and balance by keeping the bridge locked in at all times, and keeping Strangler in place. Strangler finally relaxes slightly, with the pain still ripping through his body. “He’s about to submit, Stevens! You can see it on his face! He’s giving up! O glorious day!” cries Riley with delight, but his delight is short-lived. Strangler suddenly explodes outwards with all his strength, and Flesher is sent falling to the canvas. Strangler, grimace on his face, reaches over and grabs ahold of his shoulder, doing his best to restore feeling to the injured limb.

“The damage may have already been done, Mark. Strangler had no real power in that limb before, but now, it’s almost totally worthless to him, and he’s incredibly prone to submission. Heck, even an armbar could put him down right now!” Strangler is starting to pick himself up when Flesher lurches over to Strangler and yanks him up, once again torquing the injured shoulder as he pulls the big man to a bent-over standing position. Strangler struggles to free himself, but soon stops as Flesher tugs sharply on Strangler’s shoulder, sending yet another wave of searing pain throughout TBS’ body. Flesher also grabs ahold of Strangler’s other arm, and begins to twist them around. Strangler goes along, trying to minimize the amount of pressure applied to his shoulder as Flesher positions Strangler behind him for the Unprettier. Before Flesher drops to the canvas, Strangler shoves forwards and drills Flesher in the small of his back with his left shoulder. Flesher releases his grip on Strangler’s arms and jumps forward slightly. Strangler takes advantage of the opportunity and grabs Flesher by the head, locking him in a reverse inverted facelock. The fans explode into cheers as Strangler raises his free right arm into the air, then lifts Flesher into the air before falling backwards and spiking Flesher into the mat with a reverse DDT drop. “LAST BREATH! Strangler just broke out the LAST BREATH for the first time in ages! That could be all, folks! Here’s the cover!”

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

TWOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

THREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

“NO! Flesher kicks out! Flesher kicks out of the Last Breath! And this match was SO close to ending here, Riley!” Riley breathes an audible sigh of relief as Strangler rolls onto his side and slams his fist into the mat in sheer frustration. “Strangler caught a lucky break and gave the millions of Fleshermaniacs out there a good scare, but Tom kicked out, and this match continues onward. Just a matter of time now.”

Strangler finally pulls himself up off the ground and gets to his feet as Tom Flesher squirms around on the mat, trying to summon the strength to stand up. Strangler walks over to Tom Flesher and picks him, applying a front facelock as he lifts Flesher into a standing position. Strangler starts to turn, looking for the Lobotomy, but Flesher shoves himself forwards and sends Strangler bouncing back towards the ropes. “Neither of these men can land one of their moves, Riley! There have been a MILLION reversals tonight, and a million moves that these men never seem to use! It’s been a truly epic match, with both men going outside themselves to bring home the biggest prize in the game today!”

Strangler charges forward, but is stopped in his tracks by a sharp boot to the knee from Tom Flesher. Strangler looks up as Tom Flesher grabs ahold of Strangler and sweeps him face-first to the ground, drilling him with a downward spiral as the fans go silent, surprised by the turn of events. A few fans are cheering, understanding what the move means. “Stevens, Flesher just hit a downward spiral on Strangler, which is a move popularized by Chris Wilson as the Last Resort! Flesher learns from the man who proceeded him, and kicks Strangler’s ass just as badly as Wilson did!” Strangler is down and out on the canvas as Tom Flesher rolls over and makes the cover, praying to god that Strangler will stay down for the three-count this time.

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

TWOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

THREEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

“NO! Strangler kicks out! He kicks out of the Last Resort, and Tom Flesher is INFURIATED! Somehow, someway, this match CONTINUES!” Flesher goes crazy as he slams both fists down against the canvas, incredulous that Strangler is still going strong. Strangler shifts slightly on the mat, twitching his leg as he starts to summon the energy to get to his feet. Flesher helps Strangler with that one, pulling Strangler up to his feet and pushing him backwards into the corner. Strangler crashes back-first into the corner and lies there, motionless, as Flesher throws a shotei into Strangler’s solar plexus, followed by another sharp shot. Strangler sinks back even further into the corner from the force of the blows, and Flesher, satisfied, climbs under the rope and along the ring apron to the corner. “Here it comes, Stevens! Time for Strangler to take an Ego Trip!”

Strangler remains stationary in the corner, hardly moving at all, as Flesher reaches the top turnbuckle, perched behind Strangler’s head. Flesher carefully positions himself, lining his knee up with the back of Strangler’s skull. Flesher readies himself to fly once again, but Strangler has enough energy to throw a back elbow with his left arm, catching Tom in the jaw. Flesher leans backwards in his perch, and almost goes tumbling to the floor below, but manages to catch his balance at the last second and remain on top of the turnbuckle. Strangler throws another one, sending Flesher reeling backwards again, but Flesher continues to tentatively keep his balance. Strangler reaches up and grabs ahold of Flesher’s arms, and then drops forward, pulling Tom Flesher head over heels off his perch. Flesher goes crashing down to the canvas back-first with a huge CRASH! that shakes the ring. “SOUTHIE SLAM! SOUTHIE SLAM BY STRANGLER” screams a now-hoarse Stevens as the Superstation rolls onto his side and begins to slowly crawl over towards the down and out Tom Flesher. Strangler gets closer and closer as the fans go crazy, waiting for Strangler to make the cover. Strangler finally reaches his opponent, and drapes his hand over Flesher’s chest as an alert and ready Mark Hebner makes the count.

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

TWOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

THREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

“NO! Flesher kicks out of the Southie Slam, and SOMEHOW this match goes on! This is truly insane! Both men have kicked out of signature moves, of finishers, of other people’s finishers, and have wrestled through incredible fatigue and pain! No matter who walks out victorious tonight, both men have put up one HELL of a fight, and they should go home feeling like they’re true competitors, and incredible athletes!” Stevens’ voice is filled with emotion as he looks out at the two men, still motionless, in the middle of the ring. “What an incredible match to have been a part of!”

“Too bad that Strangler’s gonna walk out of here the loser of this match. Flesher has kicked out of every move Strangler’s still capable of performing, and now it’s time for Tom to END THIS!”

Strangler is the first of the two to start moving from the mat as he pulls himself up along the ropes, taking his time as he staggers to his feet. Tom Flesher is stirring, but not moving yet, as Strangler gets to his feet. Strangler staggers towards Flesher, nearly losing his balance at one point. Finally, he reaches Flesher and pulls him painstakingly to his feet as Flesher, still unsure of where he is, willingly goes along for the ride. Strangler pulls Flesher alongside him to the corner, where Strangler begins to climb the top rope, pulling Flesher along with him. Strangler climbs slowly but surely, stepping onto the second rope as he keeps a grip on Tom Flesher’s arm. “What does Strangler have up his sleeve, Stevens?” “Riley, I have no lcue what Strangler has on his mind right now, but I do know that it’s not gonna be pretty.”

Strangler struggles, and then makes it to the top rope as he pulls upwards on Flesher, pulling him upwards as well. Tom steps up onto the 2nd rope to relieve the pressure on his arm as the referee comes over to inspect what’s happening. Flesher’s eyes light up as he falls off the turnbuckle, slamming straight into Hebner. Hebner stumbles to the side and crashes into the ropes, sending Strangler crotch-first onto the top rope. “That no-good cheater!” proclaims Stevens angrily as the crowd groans, then begins to boo Tom Flesher. Tom pulls his arm free of Strangler’s grasp, and then begins to climb the turnbuckles himself, his eyes locked on Strangler. “Riley, is Flesher gonna try to give Strangler the Boilermaker? He’s strong, but he has no chance of pulling this move off on Strangler, especially not after this kind of match!”

“Stevens, I’m willing to bet that Strangler didn’t study the Boilermaker! He would have thought he was too big to take the move…”

“But he is, Bobby!”

“Hold on, Mark! You see, if Strangler has no clue how to reverse it, it’s just a matter of Flesher having the strength to get Strangler off that top rope, which I think he can do. Right now, any blow could finish things, so even a half-hearted Boilermaker could be the straw that breaks the camel’s back!” Riley and Stevens both lean forward intently as Tom Flesher manages to reach the top rope and slings Strangler’s arm over his shoulder. He sets himself as best he can, and then starts to fall backwards. However, Strangler grabs Flesher’s tights and wraps his legs around the ringpost, anchoring himself to the top rope. Strangler stays in place, leaving Tom Flesher teetering on the ropes, held up only by Strangler’s hand keeping him in place. “Strangler proves to be too big to take the Boilermaker after all, and now Flesher’s hanging on by the skin of his teeth!”

Strangler sits down on the turnbuckle and pulls Tom down into a squatting position in front of him. Strangler lifts Tom Flesher onto his shoulders, in a modified fireman’s carry, and then starts to turn himself around. Strangler manages to put himself in a sitting position on the turnbuckle, sitting sideways on it, with Flesher’s head facing towards the middle of the ring. Strangler starts to stand up on the turnbuckle, with Flesher still lying prone on Strangler’s shoulders, as the crowd starts to come to its feet, wondering what Strangler plans on doing from his perch high atop the turnbuckle. Strangler looks down to the ring below, then lifts Tom Flesher slightly off his shoulders. “Riley, I think Strangler has Flesher in a gorilla press position…he can’t be thinking what I think he’s thinking….can he?”

Strangler, his arms struggling under the weight, readies himself, then leaps off the top rope. The entire arena explodes into flashbulbs as Tom Flesher slips down onto Strangler’s shoulders once again as the two men go smashing into the ground. The impact shakes the ring foundation itself, and a huge “HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT!” chant starts to echo throughout the arena. “MASSACRE! BOSTON MASSACRE! OFF THE TOP ROPE! TOM FLESHER MIGHT BE DEAD OUT THERE, RILEY!” screams Stevens at the top of his lungs. “STRANGLER HAS IT WON! HE JUST NEEDS TO CRAWL A FEW INCHES AND PIN TOM FLESHER! GO, STRANGLER! GO!”

“C’mon, Flesher! You can do it! Lock on the Superior Stretch! End it!” cries a desperate-sounding Riley, who looks like he just saw his dog run over in the streets. The entire arena is electric, still chanting “HOLY SHIT!” as Strangler crawls towards Flesher, making up those last few inches. Finally, Strangler’s arm drapes across Tom Flesher’s chest, which is lying still except for light breathing from the SWF Champion. Hebner drops to the canvas and begins the count as the entire arena screams along with the count at the top of their lungs.

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

“Here you go, Strangler! This is it! You’ve got it!”

TWOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

“NO! Not Strangler! ANYONE BUT STRANGLER!”

THREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

DING DING DING!!!!!

“Your winner of the THIRD PINFALL, and the NEW SWF WORLD HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPION, THE BOSTON……….STRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRANGLER!!!!!!!!”

“NO! NONONONONO!!!”

“HE DID IT! HE DID IT! THE BOSTON STRANGLER HAS BEATEN TOM FLESHER!!!!!”

Strangler rolls over in the ring and looks out at the crowd, who are screaming like banshees as they jump up and down. Strangler stares at them for a minute, seemingly unsure of what’s happening, until Mark Hebner grabs Strangler’s hand and raises it into the air. He then drops the SWF World Heavyweight Championship belt into Strangler’s hands, drawing another increase in volume from the crowd. Strangler looks down at the piece of leather and gold in his hands, still adorned with the TOM FLESHER nameplate on it, and doesn’t move a muscle. A single tear runs down his face as he looks at the belt in his hands, trying to comprehend what’s happened. He looks out at the screaming crowd again and raises the belt into the air, trying to hold back even more tears as a “STRANG-LER! STRANG-LER!” chant echoes throughout the arena, drowning out the chords of “Godzilla” echoing throughout the building.

“Riley, we just witnessed one of the greatest, most epic matches in SWF history, and it ends with a man who’s been here two years, since July of 2001, coming up with the win, and his first taste of the SWF World Championship!” Riley barks back at Stevens, “SHUT UP! Don’t you see that Tom Flesher has LOST? HE LOST! Tom Flesher doesn’t lose! And when he gets his rematch for the title, Strangler’s gonna wish that he had never, EVER won that title!”

“Regardless of any rematch that might be coming up, the Boston Strangler is a champion tonight! What a way to close out one of the greatest PPV events ever held in our federation’s history! Storm is sure to have a TON of fallout from tonight’s event, so tune in Friday night, folks! Until then, the Boston Strangler is your NEW SWF WORLD HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPION!”

Grand Slam’s voice fades out as the camera fixes on a picture of the Boston Strangler, SWF World Title clutched tightly in his hands, looking out over the screaming audience with tears running down his face as Tom Flesher lies there, still unconscious. Strangler raises the belt into the air one last time as the screen fades to black.

June 24, 2003

I for one greatly enjoyed both of these matches. And once I regain the ability to breathe for long periods of time I shall comment on them.

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13th Hour Losing Matches

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