SMARKDOWN!!!

[Guest Suicide King]

SWF Smarkdown for Monday, July 7th!

Live from the Kemper Arena in Kansas City, Missouri!

 

 

THOTH SHOCKS THE WORLD

--He returns at 13th Hour. He defeats nine others to earn his shot. He gets revenge on Tom Flesher, and wraps his hands around the prize he's quested towards for so long. For the first time, Thoth holds the SWF World Heavyweight Title. We hope he'll join us tonight to share his thoughts on what this means for the Clan, for himself, for Tom Flesher...and anything else that's on his wicked mind.

 

HARDCORE GAMER'S CHAMPIONSHIP MATCH

CIA © vs. Va'aiga

--Va'aiga earned the shot at 13th Hour. We don't forget what you've earned around here...at least not for too long...and tonight he gets to cash it in against the somewhat surprising reigning champ, the Canadian Intelligence Agent.

Rules: Hardcore rules - no DQ or countout, pinfall or submission counts anywhere.

 

 

#1 CONTENDERSHIP TO THE US TITLE

Crowe vs. Johnny Dangerous

--First Jay Dawg took Crowe's place in the 3-way, then decided he wasn't after the US title--only revenge. Next the tag match went to hell on Lockdown, as Johnny Dangerous quit mid-match, handing the victory to Justice and Rule. He's been in communique with the Suicide King...and whatever it means, it means that he's getting a chance at a US title shot. We like that kind of dickery around here. Crowe will also get another look at the contendership after having his consciousness so rudely interrupted before the opener on Lockdown...

 

 

SINGLES MATCH

Wildchild vs. Ejiro Fasaki

--It’s a trip down memory lane as one of the JL’s most consistent rivalries gets a redux many months later. With Johnny’s strange betrayal on Lockdown, it doesn’t look like Wild and Dangerous will be challenging Justice & Rule for the tag titles anytime soon. Wildchild didn’t get a chance to win on Wednesday, and so tonight he goes one on one with old enemy Ejiro for a chance at some revenge.

 

 

SINGLES MATCH

Jay Dawg vs. Nathaniel Kibagami

--Jay Dawg made an impact on Lockdown, subbing in for fellow stoner Crowe after the bird was attacked. Now he looks to keep the momentum going. On the other side, Kibagami has been off his game, suffering a string of losses most recently punctuated by the savage assaults of Janus and new World Champion Thoth. Can he get back on track?

 

 

SINGLES MATCH

Dace Night vs. "The Judge" William Hearford

--Dace Night will always be hardcore, but for a while he's waving goodbye to his brutal roots. It's time to get back to basics and go after the man who cost him the Hardcore Title. Dace has his eyes on some Mag 7 blood, and we're all too eager to see what he can do against the seasoned veteran Hearford...

 

 

NON-TITLE SINGLES MATCH

Michael Craven vs. Longdogger Pete

-It looked like LDP was about to hang up his boots and Hawaiian shirts on Lockdown, but Stryke interrupted what could have been a beautiful farewell with a resounding chairshot. Later in the evening, Michael Craven took the US title back from Mak Francis, but laid out a challenge to Stryke and the ICTV belt after the match. Well, after tonight, the Aussie might not even have the strap, but both these men must want a shot at the wonder from down under. Let's see who wants it more...

 

 

ICTV TITLE MATCH

Stryke © vs. Beezel

--Not too much to be said here: Beezel upended the monster Janus to earn his second ICTV title shot in the last month. Will he have better luck this time, or will Stryke keep rolling after an impressive return?

 

 

MAIN EVENT

FOUR CORNERS MATCH

"TNT" Taylor Nicholas Thompson vs. The Boston Strangler vs. Frost vs. "Deathwish" Danny Williams

--Easily one of the most high-powered matches in recent history. This time last summer, all four of these men were riding high in the Magnificent 7, three of them rookies and one of them just recently back in the fray. 12 months have taken them in very different directions, but they have all recently returned to action with a punch. Danny has dominated the ICTV scene. Frost has regained his fire. TNT has vanquished a nemesis. The Strangler took Tom Flesher to the limit. Now TNT and Danny have confronted each other, with their sights on the World Title, and I don't doubt TBS and The Velvet Hammer would enjoy another shot at their first titles, too. They're not too different, these guys. They all want to be the best.

 

Every man has something to prove. Whoever wins tonight can say he's made the most of these last 12 months. Maybe he'll be the next man after Thoth, after Flesher. Maybe something else entirely. This is for all the glory, gentleman. Let's do this thing right.

[Guest Suicide King]

First, there was one pyro.

 

Then, there were two pyros.

 

And then there was a NUCLEAR ORGY OF PYRO as Smarkdown is coming to you live from the Kemper Arena in Kansas City, Missouri! The fans here are as hot as the weather, so let’s all take some time and be thankful for air conditioning! The camera sweeps madly from row to row, fans waving their signs and their hands and screaming their fool heads off! The camera decelerates, then stops in front of the announce table.

 

“Fans, it’s a great night to be with us here in the Smarks Wrestling Federation! I’m Mark Stevens!”

 

“And I’m still Bobby Riley!”

 

“And on Lockdown this past Wednesday, we saw the impossible happen, as Tom Flesher’s ninety-day reign ended to the most unlikely of challengers. Thoth, who returned to the federation at 13th Hour, won a ten-man battle royale on Storm for the right to face Tom Flesher. And on Lockdown: this happened:”

 

A quick recap package rolls, showing how Thoth managed to reverse the Boilermaker, follow it up with his finishing move, the Riot of the Blood, and capture his first World Championship.

 

“We have a segment with Thoth scheduled right now, but one has to ask, what is Tom Flesher doing? He’s not scheduled for any matches tonight, but who knows, Riley, he might just show up tonight.”

 

“And if he does, Thoth better watch his back. I know SOMEONE who thinks that regular shower soap is a good lubricant.” O, dear reader, if I could tell you the plight of Bobby Riley and his proclivities to make such homosexually charged jokes. The question of whether or not he is gay was never answered throughout the annals of history. And no one really cared, anyway.

 

The lights start flickering crimson, almost bleeding as “Go To Hell” starts to play. Accompanied by the mammoth Janus, the Balancer looks comparatively diminuitive. But, around his waist, shimmering in the blood-lights, is that which dwarfs all: The SWF World Championship.

 

“Please welcome, at this time” announces Funyon “The new S-W-F World Heavyweight Champion… THOTH!”

 

The Balancer walks around the ring, finding a set of stairs. He uses them to ascend into the ring first, with Janus following. He undoes the belt buckle and stoically holds it up to the sky like an offering to the rafters. The crowd is ambivalent, some diehard fans cheering, others booing, but there are a contingent of people who are just mostly quiet because they’re just confused. The rhythmic drums stop and the lights resume their normal luminance as Thoth starts to talk.

 

“Indeed,” he starts, “I did say I didn’t care whether I won or lost matches when I returned to the federation this time around. Indeed, I was more concerned with laying my life on the line each time I stepped foot in this ring,” he says, pointing to the canvas on which he stands. “And, you know, I really don’t know what to say. It’s a funny thing. To be a champion. But it makes sense to me, because all I want to do is fight. And he who fights the hardest is the greatest.”

 

The crowd jeers a little bit for these words, as they’re sorta boring and don’t make a whole lot of sense.

 

“As champion, I know there’s going to be a lot of people after me. In fact, every wrestler on the active roster wants a piece of me. I couldn’t be happier. It means I can face everyone on my terms. They are all going to have to look at me, and they will wonder how they can beat a man whose only purpose in that ring is to take them apart. If they rend my flesh, I will break their bones. If they break my bones, I will tear their throat! If they tear my throat, then I will take their life! I don’t care what happens to me. And if this attitude has brought the World Championship, then it shall continue to bring me this title. So I challenge you all to see if you can defeat me.”

 

“Well, a nice show of-“ Stevens is interrupted by Thoth, who is not done.

 

“Except one of you. Nathaniel Kibagami, you will never, ever get a shot a this title!”

 

Loud chorus of boos. After a moment, a chant of “Chickenshit” starts.

 

“You pathetic excuse for a brother. You had your chance in the battle royale! I wanted you to win! I wanted you! And you dragged your ass in there. That’s... beyond disappointing. What happened to you? Was it Edwin? The injury? The time off? Was it your new woman? Did you want to protect yourself for her? Do you want to protect yourself so you can be a father?”

 

The crowd is really laying into him now, booing him for the human trash that he is.

 

“What kind of man would hate someone for wanting to start a family?” shouts Stevens, personally irritated that Thoth would have a problem with something like this.

 

Was it me, Nathan? Was it me? Because if it is me, then we need to sort this out. I don’t want to be the one who’s coming between you and victory. But if it’s not me, then rest assured. You will never, ever come to being the champion. For the bullshit you tried with Janus, and the bullshit you pulled with me, you don’t have the honor or the right to face me, ever. Now, whomever the Suicide King wants to choose for my first defense, whether Flesher gets a rematch, or the winner of tonight’s main event gets a shot, or even Janus gets a try, I don’t care. But Kibagami, if you somehow prove yourself and manage to earn a shot... I will bury you.”

 

“Go To Hell” plays as Thoth and Janus leave the ring and start heading to the back.

 

“The audacity of that man... he has no love! No family, no friends. And he likes it! That makes me sick. He hates his family!” he says incredulously. There’s not a whole lot more to say, as the show goes to commercial.

[Guest Suicide King]

FADE IN

 

The door to SWF Commissioner, the Suicide King, opens up, and out steps Johnny Dangerous. King’s voice can clearly be heard behind him. “Good luck with your match tonight. And Johnny, you did the right thing.”

 

Johnny whips his head around to face King, his eyes flashing with hatred, but the life quickly burns out of them. He covers his eyes with reflective sunglasses and steps out into the hallway, closing the door behind him.

 

“Johnny!”

 

Johnny’s ears perk up at the sound of his former partner’s voice. “Shit,” he mumbles to himself. “I don’t have time for this!”

 

“Johnny, please! Let me talk to you!” Wildchild tries to catch up with the Barracuda, but he runs down the hall, past the dressing room, and straight towards the exit. Dangerous turns around a corner and runs through a door to the parking lot.

 

“Johnny,” shouts Wildchild as he runs after his former partner, “wait!” He rounds the corner and begins to step through the door, but finds Ejiro Fasaki standing in his path.

 

“Where’s the fire, kid,” Ejiro asks coolly.

 

“Out of my way, Fasaki,” growls Wildchild. “I don’ have time for you right now!”

 

SCREECH!

 

Wildchild watches helplessly as he sees Johnny’s car drive off into the night. Ejiro looks up at him with an expression of mock-pity. “Oh, I’m sorry; did you lose something? I guess that’s becoming a habit with you now, isn’t it?”

 

“What d’ you want, Fasaki?”

 

Ejiro breaks into a slow smile. “I came to talk you about your erstwhile tag team partner there.”

 

Wildchild’s eyes grow wide, and he grasps Ejiro by the shoulders. “What d’ you know about Johnny? Tell me, damn you!”

 

Brushing Wildchild’s hands aside calmly, Rule looks back into his eyes. “You know, this is exactly your problem: you’ve got all this energy, and you don’t know how to use it. Johnny used to have that problem, too… he let the fans decide on his actions for him, and you saw where it got him; absolutely nowhere. But now, his eyes have been opened up to his potential, and the sky’s the limit for him.

 

“He’s seen the light, Wildchild,” Ejiro continues. “The Suicide King’s shown him how wrong his thinking has been about the nature of this business. He helped Johnny. And, he can help you, too…”

 

SLAM!

 

Wildchild shoves Ejiro hard into the wall. “Bastard! You’re involved in dis somehow, I can feel it! I don’ know what you an’ dat Gamblin’ Man did to my friend, but you’re gon’ t’ give me de answers I’m lookin’ for!”

 

Wildchild draws his arm back to punch Ejiro in the face, but a cadre of referees and road agents intervene, breaking up the skirmish. As the two are pulled apart, a road agent whispers into Wildchild’s ear, “now’s not the time, kid! You’ll have in the ring in just a few minutes!” Wildchild nods silently, and allows himself to be pulled away from the area…

 

As we:

FADE OUT

[Guest Suicide King]

Bobby Riley: Well what have we got coming up next, Grand Slam?

 

Mark Stevens: We’ve got a hardcore title match that should be violent, nasty and packed with brutality. CIA took the Hardcore Gamers title off Va’aiga’s Unholy Trinity stablemate Dace Night. Meanwhile Va’aiga debuted at the PPV and earned himself a shot at this title by beating the MASTER of Hardcore matches, Jay Dawg. Va’aiga has been on a little losing streak since then, both Michael Craven and Jay Dawg besting him in No-DQ matches, but this time it’s falls count anywhere for the title.

 

Bobby Riley: Can’t say I like either of these guys, Stevens, but hell it should be violent enough to keep both myself and my viewers happy.

 

Mark Stevens: YOUR viewers?

 

Bobby Riley: Why else tune in but to see me?

 

Funyon: Ladies and gentlemen… the following match is scheduled for ONE fall and is for the HARDCORE GAMERS CHAMPIONSHIP, where the rules are… THERE ARE NO RULES!

 

The crowd cheers at that announcement

 

Introducing first, the challenger, hailing from Rotorua, North Island, New Zealand, weighing in at 285lbs, the number one contender to the hardcore gamers’ title, the Maori Badass… VAAAAAA’AAAAAAAAAIIIIIIIIIGGGGGAAAAAA

 

The arena drops to darkness, as Va'aiga's shadow appears in the entranceway, dressed in his hooded training top with the hood down. The bassline of "Bring The Pain" by Method Man starts up and red strobe lights pierce the darkness of the entrance ramp as Va'aiga begins his slow walk to the ring, throwing a few phantom jabs on the way. The Smarktron shows images of Va'aiga shadow boxing and posing, cut with some of his biggest in ring hits - Maori Dropping Thor, Maori Dropping a ladder onto Tryst, the chairshot on Spike Jenkins, Maori Dropping John Duran, smashing Crow with a chair, staring off with Janus, smashing the disco ball with his fist to grab the contract inside, Maori Dropping Spike Jenkins... Inside the ring Va'aiga rolls down his hood and raises his fists to the crowd, then takes off his top and throws it to a ring assistant before firing off the Maori hand sign.

 

Mark Stevens: Va’aiga is a man who’s had mixed fortunes in the SWF so far, but he’s got a win over Jay Dawg, and that’s something no one should take away from him. He’s a man to be feared Bobby Riley

 

Bobby Riley: He’s an erratic and unstable character though.

 

Funyon: And his opponent, the current reigning SWF Hardcore Gamers Champion, from Ottawa, Ontario, Canada, at 6’4 and 245lbs, the Canadian Intelligence Agent, SEEEEEEEE EEEEYYEEEEE AAAAAAYYYYY

 

The lights in the arena fade to almost nothing, and the intro to the Red Hot Chili Peppers' "Can't stop" begin to issue forth from the speakers. As the beat climbs, small strobes of light begin flashing at various point along the stage in time with the drum backbeat. These strobes slowly get brighter, until they suddenly are replaced by very small bursts of pyro along the stage, also in time with the backbeat. These pyro get bigger, as the beat approaches a crescendo, finally culminating in two large explosions of pyro that occur right around center stage, just as the guitar riff shifts in to replace the drums. CIA rises up from below the stage at this point, armed with his hockey stick, holding it above his head, coming up into the center of a small cloud of smoke that has been formed between the two explosions of pyro, raising both arms and pointing out towards the fans as he begins to make his way down the aisle, Smarktron displaying CIA's face in front of a waving Canadian flag, as well as various shots of CIA smirking in the direction of the camera, and one or two clips of CIA's greatest in ring moments

 

Bobby Riley: You know he was originally just called C.I?

 

Mark Stevens: Eh?

 

Bobby Riley: Yeah that was his problem up in Canada. It just stuck.

 

Va’aiga and CIA walk into the middle of the ring and the pair touch fists to signal they’re both ready for the start of the match. CIA raises his hockey stick to the sky and the Kemper Arena crowd cheers loudly for their Canadian hero. CIA smashes prods out towards Va’aiga with his stick, making the Maori Badass take a few careful backwards steps to avoid the short jabbing blows. CIA swaps fighting hand with his stick as Va’aiga composes himself. Va’aiga grabs for the non stick arm of CIA and whips the Canadian, but CIA gets his stick up and holds it across the chest and SMASHES Va’aiga down with a mean check.

 

Mark Stevens: The strong hockey background of CIA showing up there, firing off a typical hockey style block. Using his stick there gave him that little extra push to get Va’aiga over.

 

Bobby Riley: How many times have we seen guys rush Va’aiga and just bounce off the Maori Badass’ frame? That stick is always gonna be a bonus for CIA in this match.

 

CIA beckons Va’aiga back to his feet and the Maori stands slowly, giving CIA time to rush in and dropkick the Maori Badass’ knee out, sending Va’aiga flat down to the mat again. CIA stands over Va’aiga and twirls his hockey stick round in his hands, to a round of applause from the crowd again. CIA hammers down the stick across Va’aiga’s back, making the massive Maori flinch a little down on the canvas. CIA follows this by leaping into the air and bringing the stick down again HARD, this time kneeling out to strengthen the impact of the blow.

 

Bobby Riley: That’s gotta be two minutes for something or other. C’mon ref!

 

Mark Stevens: There is no penalty box in a No-DQ match. There isn’t ANYTHING apart from pin falls and pure unadulterated violence.

 

CIA drops to the ground and goes for the early cover and referee Eddy Long hops down to count…

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

 

TH….and Va’aiga kicks out. CIA lifts Va’aiga off the ground and grabs the Maori Badass for a whip, but as a loose swing of the hockey stick greets a returning Va’aiga, the Maori Badass ducks under the stick and avoids the blow. Va’aiga rebounds again off the other side of the ring and as CIA sets himself for another check, Va’aiga drops the shoulder and HAMMERS CIA down to the canvas with a massive running tackle. Va’aiga kips up back to his feet and screams out to the crowd.

 

Va’aiga: BOO-YAH!

 

Mark Stevens: Va’aiga showing HIS sports experience there. Va’aiga has a background in playing rugby and that’s a tough, physical sport in just the same way hockey is.

 

Bobby Riley: Plus Va’aiga has a definite power advantage over CIA, I mean he’s a big, BIG human being, Grand Slam. Maybe not the sharpest knife in the box, but bludgeoning someone to death with a big blunt knife still kills ‘em.

 

Va’aiga grabs CIA up by the hair and picks CIA up, casually slinging the Canadian over his shoulder bfore dropping CIA down to the mat with a powerful scoop slam. Va’aiga drops a leg across the chest of the fallen CIA, adding a rapid trifecta of stomps for effect and that little extra punishment. As CIA stands again, Va’aiga picks up his hockey stick from the ground and swings it round, smashing iit into the ribcage of the Canadian Intelligence Agent. CIA staggers back to the ropes and Va’aiga discards the stick and rushes CIA, crashing a lariat across the upper chest of the Canadian and sending CIA cartwheeling to the outside. Va’aiga steps trough the ropes to the outside, following CIA out.

 

Mark Stevens: LOOK at the impact of that lariat! CIA just got bounced over the ropes like he was a 150lb middleweight! Va’aiga is just bringing it and bringing it.

 

Bobby Riley: And the other advantage Va’aiga has outside the ring, is that he’s a brawler, pure and simple. CIA relies a lot on the sort of technical moves that can get neutralized in an all out rough and tumble fist fight.

 

Mark Stevens: CIA has proved however that he can go in a weaponfest brawl. I mean you don’t beat Dace Night if you can’t get to grips with the violent side of this game we call wrestling.

 

Va’aiga grabs down to floor level and picks up CIA, then whips the Intelligence man into the guardrail, cold hard steel bouncing off prime Canadian back. Va’aiga rushes CIA again, extending his arm to fire off another over the top lariat. But this time CIA is wise to the tactic and ducks, backdropping Va’aiga forcefully over the guardrail and sending the massive Maori into a pile of chairs vacated by front row spectators. Va’aiga reels in pain as CIA picks up a chair and drops it onto his massive Maori chest, and the talented Canadian sits up on the guardrail to get a little extra height as he drops a foot into the chair, sending waves of pain through the sternum of the Maori Badass.

 

Mark Stevens: CIA bringing a little innovation there to that stomp. It seems both guys are looking to pick apart the other one’s ribcage here tonight.

 

Bobby Riley: That’s a dual threat strategy. Not only toes it leave you a lot more vulnerable around the chest area, but blows to that part of the body deny just squeeze the oxygen out of your lungs. It’s all pain.

 

CIA stomps a few more times on the fallen Maori before picking him up and softening Va’aiga up with a series of stiff forearm shots. CIA SLAMS Va’aiga’s head against the guardrail, then stretches Va’aiga’s neck out enough to press it against the guardrail and run Va’aiga up the rail by the throat, pressing down Va’aiga’s Adam’s apple onto the steel as the pair head towards the stagehand area, underneath the entrance ramp.

 

Bobby Riley: OW! Grand Slam, is it just me or did that look like it HURT!

 

Mark Stevens: Va’aiga has to be short of breath after having his throat drawn along the steel there.

 

Bobby Riley: It’s another oxygen depriver there. It’s all business tonight from the Canadian Intelligence Agent.

 

As Va’aiga clutches his throat, CIA grabs for the Maori Badass and whips him into a stack of boxes, sending the Maori Badass tumbling down to the floor in a heap. CIA grabs a piece of electrical cable out of the pile of spilt box contents littering the floor, and drops down, applying a rear choke to Va’aiga with the cable. CIA looks around the audience, but as the crowd noise dies down he lets the cable loose and goes hunting for something more violent and crowd pleasing.

 

Mark Stevens: CIA, always the crowd pleaser. I think that’s the carnie influence coming through in him.

 

Bobby Riley: He’s an idiot, Grand Slam. I mean he had Va’aiga trapped and was choking the big dumb beast out, but cos the crowd didn’t approve he’s gone for something else. Where’s the professionalism?

 

Mark Stevens: Entertaining the crowd IS part of wrestling Bobby. I mean if all everyone did was apply rear chin locks, where would wrestling be today?

 

Va’aiga rolls away from the CIA, rummaging round through the piles of equipment as CIA grabs for a chair, raising it into the air for another cheap pop from the crowd. CIA stalks Va’aiga as the Maori rolls over trying to get up. Va’aiga gets to a knee, one arm trailing behind his back as CIA closes in for the kill with his chair. A grin crosses Va’aiga’s face as he pulls a FIRE EXTUINGUISHER from behind his back and sprays liberally at CIA’s face, but CIA BLOCKS THE CARBON DIOXIDE SPRAY WITH HIS CHAIR! Va’aiga gets to his feet only to be PASTED across the head with the chair, but Va’aiga DOESN’T BUDGE! Another swat to the Maori’s exposed dome does little…

 

Va’aiga: COME ON!

 

As CIA fakes a third swing with the chair, Va’aiga preparing himself mentally for the blow, the crafty Canadian goes low with a dropkick, taking the Maori down to one knee while keeping hold of the chair. CIA stands again and blasts Va’aiga with the chair again, and again, and AGAIN! Va’aiga drops to the floor and CIA gets down to cover, the dutifully following Eddy Long dropping to count…

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

 

THRE... NO! VA’AIGA KICKS OUT!

 

Mark Stevens: My God! Va’aiga took a whole series of brutal, BRUTAL chair shots to his head, and the Maori Badass still kicks out! Look at the strength! Look at the tenacity! Look at the guts of Va’aiga!

 

Bobby Riley: Yeah, no brain, no pain. The man boasts a bad case of Pacific Head Syndrome, and it takes a lot of thwacking across it to take the man out.

 

CIA picks Va’aiga up and whips him into the technical entrance door, then charges at the Maori Badass, forearm raised. Va’aiga counters in a unique way by OPENING THE DOOR, and CIA flies through it, followed closely by Va’aiga, Eddy Long and the trusted SWF Cameraman Gus! The corridor on the other side of the door is buzzing with road crew and stage hands working on numerous crucial technical aspects designed to keep the show running smoothly, as well as now being filled with cameraman, referee, talented Canadian and big, bad, scary, Maori. Va’aiga grabs for CIA’s arm as the Intelligence Agent bounces back off the wall. Looking down the corridor for something fun to throw CIA into gives the Canadian time to take control of the whip and fire Va’aiga off and into a pile of poles which spill and scatter all over the place as the Maori Badass bundles into them.

 

Bobby Riley: Now that’s just destructive. This hardcore match is infringing on our dedicated crew’s ability to work, damnit!

 

Mark Stevens: It’s just one of those matches which has degenerated into a wild and crazy brawl, and I wouldn’t be the man to stand in between them and their destructive path. I’m sure the tech crew can tidy up after them.

 

Rushing down the corridor after Va’aiga, CIA grabs for a pipe off the ground and as Va’aiga regains his vertical base, carefully avoiding slipping over the poles rolling all over the corridor, CIA brings the pole round hard across Va’aiga’s chest. The Maori Badass clutches his upper chest area as CIA turns the pole round in his hands with great skill before setting it’s end on the ground and then tripping Va’aiga up by slap-shooting out his ankle! Va’aiga drops to the ground as CIA hammers the pole down into his chest again. CIA drops to cover…

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

 

THR… and Va’aiga kicks out.

 

Mark Stevens: I think that’s one of the most innovative uses of a pipe I’ve ever seen in wrestling. CIA drawing on his hockey background again and Va’aiga is feeling the whole force of.. well.. Canadianness!

 

Bobby Riley: Is that even a word?

 

Mark Stevens: I’m not sure, Riley.

 

CIA grabs Va’aiga up off the concrete and slings him down the corridor again, sending the Maori Badass bouncing off a wall as the pair, with their cameraman and referee accompaniment following. CIA grabs Va’aiga by the back of the head and walks him forcefully down the corridor to the back doors, and forcing his way through a crowd of fans gathering round the entrance, denied tickets for this sell out show but still turning up to show their support, and the gathering cheers loudly as Va’aiga is slung through the door down the stairs to the outside. Looking up from the asphalt, Va’aiga shows signs of a cut opening up on his face as CIA follows him out of the building into the parking lot.

 

Bobby Riley: OK, where the HELL are these lunatics going now, Stevens?

 

Mark Stevens: Well this match is free to go anywhere. I mean this match can’t end without a pin fall or submission, so being in the parking lot isn’t going to change anything. These two maniacs are just gonna keep fighting until one of them gives out.

 

CIA covers Va’aiga on the cold hard asphalt of the parking lot, and Eddy Long hurries down the steps to count…

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

 

THR.. and Va’aiga kicks out! Cursing, CIA stands up and draws his finger across his throat, the people outside shouting random catcalls of encouragement as the Canadian picks Va’aiga up from the asphalt in a Full Nelson. CIA looks around and slips his leg around Va’aiga’s, looking for the Via Rail… but the Maori badass softens up CIA’s grip with a back elbow and CIA breaks the hold.

 

Mark Stevens: The Maori Badass could have been finished there. Not many get up from the Via Rail, and Va’aiga was lucky to break the full nelson part of that deadly move.

 

Va’aiga runs to face CIA and throws a jab at him, but CIA swats Va’aiga away with one arm and fires off a massive elbow smash, rocking the Maori back a little and widening the cut on his head. A second forearm smash rocks Va’aiga again. CIA winds up and BLASTS Va’aiga with his massive ROLLING ELBOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOW! Va’aiga drops to the asphalt like a stone! CIA Covers…

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

 

THR... and VA’AIGA KICKS OUT!

 

Mark Stevens: VA’AIGA KICKED OUT! That roaring elbow could have taken out many a lesser athlete, but Va’aiga, even beaten and battered takes one HELL of a licking.

 

Bobby Riley: Va’aiga is one triple tough individual. CIA brings the Misawa, and Va’aiga brings the Kobashi levels of toughness. Of course Misawa always had the advantage in THAT series.

 

Mark Stevens: So your point is…

 

Bobby Riley: I know more about wrestling than you’d THINK, Grand Slam.

 

Mark Stevens: And how does that translate to this match.

 

Bobby Riley: Like I care about the match. It’s all about Riley, baby!

 

CIA picks Va’aiga off the ground and fires another quick forearm into the cut forehead of the Maori. CIA grabs the Maori Badass and whips him forcefully into the side of the Satellite Broadcast truck. Leading the Maori Badass round by the neck, CIA slings Va’aiga into the truck and the monitors covering the wall of the broadcast unit turn to the action inside the truck as senior directing personnel are joined by Va’aiga and CIA.

 

Bobby Riley: Gus! Gus! Focus on that monitor top right!

 

Gus does so as the screen in question is shown to be the commentary table camera! Bobby Riley mugs for the camera and Mark Stevens gives a look of disgust to the camera. Meanwhile CIA SLAMS Va’aiga’s head off the production desk and the whole picture goes fuzzy for a brief second!

 

Mark Stevens: Will you STOP?

 

CIA grabs Va’aiga and smashes him off the table again, sending a splatter of blood across the monitors. CIA takes Va’aiga down with a small package, the only cradle that fits in the floor area of the truck, and Eddy Long standing outside the truck gets his eye level to truck floor and counts…

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

 

 

TH… and Va’aiga kicks out. CIA grabs for a swiveling chair, forcing a production assistant to stand and SMASHES it across Va’aiga’s head as he gets to his knees. CIA drops to cover again.

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

T.. barely even a two count as Va’aiga kicks out. CIA pounds him with the chair again and covers again…

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

TW… not EVEN a two count! Va’aiga grits his teeth and beings to stand slowly.

 

Mark Stevens: Va’aiga has his second wind! Va’aiga is recovering!

 

Bobby Riley: He’s Maoriing up again… this could spell problems for CIA.

 

CIA takes a two step run up and fires off a forearm shot into Va’aiga’s head again. Va’aiga barely flinches as the blow rains in. CIA fires a second off and Va’aiga stays still again. CIA winds up for another Rolling Elbow and Va’aiga FLATTENS the Canadian with an enzuilariato as he turns! CIA drops face first to the carpeted floor of the truck and Va’aiga grabs a production mic.

 

Va’aiga: AAHHHHHHHH YEAH!

 

The shot of the commentators shows Bobby Riley WINCE in pain as Va’aiga’s shout comes through his earpiece!

 

Bobby Riley: Man I wish he wouldn’t do that. That feels like a 1,000 ton weight smashing about my head.

 

Mark Stevens: Feel sorry for CIA then, he’s getting PUNCHED by the guy.

 

Bobby Riley: Nah, I’m WORTHY of star treatment. I don’t care if CIA gets busted up.

 

CIA stumbles and regains his footing on the edge of the truck, as Va’aiga reels back a massive Maori meat hook and fires off a LETHAL left cross. Back in the arena the crowd chants “ONE!” Va’aiga draws his hand back again and staggers CIA with a second massive left cross. The crowd chants “TWO!” A third left cross leaves CIA clutching onto the edge of the truck for dear life, and the crowd chanting “THREE!” Va’aiga draws his right fist up to his mouth and as he releases his MASSIVE right uppercut the crowd as one calls… “oooooooooooooOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHHHAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHBOO-YAH!” timing the last call with the connection of the punch, which sends CIA spilling out of the truck and onto the hard asphalt that covers that parking lot. Va’aiga, Eddy Long and Gus follow CIA out.

 

Mark Stevens: Va’aiga had turned the tide with that massive series of punches! And it seems the crowd are enjoying themselves too.

 

Bobby Riley: The idiots! What do they know? If I was the referee I’d disqualify Va’aiga for use of a closed fist there.

 

Mark Stevens: In A NO-DQ match? In the SWF Production Truck?

 

Bobby Riley: Yeah! Why that big idiot needs fining for this low level, low-brow, low down dirty cheating.

 

The bloodied Va’aiga peels CIA off the asphalt and looks around for somewhere to dump the Canadian Intelligence Agent. Smiling to himself through the blood dripping slowly down his face, Va’aiga leads CIA by the hair to the angle he was looking for and stares out towards his intended target… THE MAGNIFICENT SEVEN’S LIMOUSINE! Va’aiga kicks CIA firmly in the stomach and hoists CIA up into the Maori Drop position! Va’aiga charges the limousine, but CIA slips out and pushes Va’aig sternum first into the bonnet. CIA rolls up the Maori Badass! Eddy Long counts!

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

 

THRE.. AND VA’AIGA KICKS OUT!

 

Bobby Riley: Wow I rally thought that CIA had him there Grand Slam.

 

Mark Stevens: The thing is Riley, Va’aiga HATES cheap victories. As much as it’s a legitimate tactic, it just seems to rub the Maori Badass up the wrong way.

 

CIA stands, and Va’aiga stands himself, a face like pure thunder. CIA fires off another forearm, and Va’aiga grabs CIA by the throat! CIA chokes and splutters as Va’aiga bends CIA back towards the hood of the limousine. Va’aiga holds on to the choke and lifts CIA up into the air as the Maori Badass steps up onto the hood of the limo. Looking out into the surrounding of Kansas with a few scattered fans chanting his name outside and a packed arena inside slowly beginning a “VAY-ING-UH” chant of his own, Va’aiga lifts CIA and switches his weight, releasing the choke and dropping CIA down sideways, falling forwards at the same time, and crushing CIA through the hood of the limo with the conbined impacts!

 

Mark Stevens: CHOKESLAM MAORI DROP! CHOKESLAM MAORI DROP!

 

Eddy Long counts as Va’aiga hooks a leg…

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

 

THREE! Eddy Long hoists Va’aiga’s arm up and slings the belt he has been dutifully carrying over the Maori’s shoulder! Va’aiga poses as CIA lays there slumped on the broken windshield of the stretch mobile.

 

Bobby Riley: Wow… He smashed up the Mag 7’s limo…

 

Mark Stevens: All in the course of winning. Va’aiga is your NEW Hardcore Gamers champion! And what a match! What an amazing first match, now let’s cut to commercial while we get cleaned up backstage.

[Guest Suicide King]

“Well folks,” says Mark Stevens, “I’ve been informed that, due to Johnny Dangerous’ unexpected departure, Crow has been awarded the match as a result of a forfeit, and has been declared the Number One Contender to the United States Championship!”

 

“This is all Wildchild’s fault,” groans Bobby Riley. “He ran Johnny out of the building! I don’t know why he couldn’t just mind his own business! Johnny’s moved on; why can’t he?”

 

Mark shakes his head. “At any rate, folks, I know many you were looking forward to seeing the Antichrist Superstar in action, but I’m afraid Crow has unexpectedly been given the night off!”

 

[cut to:]

 

The crowd in the Kemper Arena lights up as the SmarkTron shows Crow walking backstage.

 

“It’s Crow,” shouts Riley. “And he’s headed out here! He was already given the match; what does he want?”

 

“I think Crow decided that he’s not going to let anyone tell him when he can and cannot be here,” shouts Stevens. “We’ll find out what Crow wants, after this!”

 

As we:

FADE OUT

[Guest Suicide King]

Fade in.

 

Emanating from the audience is a large collection of cheers and taunts, but before the camera has much chance to scan through it, darkness falls upon the arena. Nothing illuminates the arena as 'Burn in Hell' by Dimmu Borgir begins to play... its wind-brushing-through-nature opening sample shakes the audience.

 

*BOOM!*

 

A row of fire explodes across the stage as the song breaks into the heavy thrash riff! The crowd roars in approval as a spotlight turns on and directly focuses on the stage... revealing the Antichrist Superstar, Crow! He stands on the ramp in the crucifix pose, but not present is Dante Crane, as he's in the back, looking after someone.

 

"Welcome back to SWF Smarkdown! Folks, originally coming up next we had a number one contendership match for the SWF US Title, but it seems that Johnny Dangerous won’t be coming out tonight, because he’s in fact, gone.”

 

Riley thinks for a moment. "Indeed, Wildchild chased Johnny Dangerous out of the arena, maybe a little payback because Dangerous walked out on him during the tag match on Lockdown. Now, as much as I dislike Wildchild, even I know think that's below the belt."

 

"Bobby..." Stevens turns his head towards his partner, "Everything you think about is below the belt."

 

The bell tolls and the riff slows tempo prompting Crow to drops his arms and take a drag on his cigarette. Soon after, he begins to walk to the ring...

 

"Walking down the aisle, standing at six feet two inches and weighing in at two hundred and thirty one pounds, he is The Antichrist Superstar... CCCCRRRRRROOOOOOOOOOOWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!!!" The impeccably dressed Funyon booms.

 

Crow slowly steps up the steel steps and climbs through the ropes. Hopping into the ring, he jumps around and shakes his arms… before throwing out in the crucifix pose to a grand response! The Antichristian Phenomenon walks over to his turnbuckle and leans over, requesting a microphone from the timekeeper.

 

"If you are unaware, Crow didn't participate in Lockdown's #1 US Contendership match, as he was ambushed in the back, and still, the attacker is unknown." Stevens reports to the audience.

 

“Well, what’s he doing out here now? There’s no match for him, Johnny Dangerous is gone.” Bobby says.

 

'Burn In Hell' fades out and the crowd continues to cheer for Crow as he smokes calmly.

 

Stevens scratches his head. "Maybe he’s going to address the crowd of the current situation, or maybe he’s got some business he wants to talk about. Just wait and see, Riley."

 

The Antichrist Superstar takes a drag, inhales and exhales before bringing the microphone to his lips.

 

"Well... I’ve been told that I don't have a match now, and since I've just been HANDED the US Title shot, I'm not fucking happy about it. When I come to an arena, I expect to have a match, when I’m booked for a match, OI damn well expect to get one.“ Crow stops, and takes another drag, an idea has popped into his head. "...and I think I know just how I can get one. If you watched Lockdown, you would have seen my bloodied-self knocked out on the concrete backstage."

 

"Under mysterious circumstances, as well, Riley." Stevens quickly adds.

 

Stopping to take another drag, Crow smirks. "Would it be possible if to get that played again? I take pride in knowing that my blood stains every wrestling arena I walk into and I take even more pride in showing this to everyone."

 

The boys backstage are good at what they do, and almost instantly after the request was made, the video starts up on screen. The visual is of Crow smoking a cigarette and chatting with a sexy female.

 

"And here we see myself, casually sucking back on some tobacco and talking with my lovely friend, Jessica.... when right fucking there! Some wankstain pulls me back by my hair and beats the living shit out of me with something covered in barbed wire!"

 

The screen plays as the Antichrist Superstar describes it, coming from off screen a hand clutches at Crow's head and literally rips him off screen. The girl, now known as Jessica shrieks loudly as her man is taken away, and before the camera even has time to shift position and chase... Crow is already lying unconscious on the ground. Blood oozing from his heavy wounds...

 

"Now, as stated, I do indeed take pride in spilling my blood in arenas, but jesus fucking christ, that was uncalled for! Any idiot knows that you never cheap shot a gothic warrior, so whoever the fuck it was, please... come out here and face me like a man.... " The Antichristian Phenomenon throws away in cigarette in disgust and leans back against the ropes, waiting... and he waits for a long time.

 

Mark Stevens finally speaks. "I think Crow's wasting his time here... it's been more than a minute, and well, us wrestling fans really don't have attention spans."

 

"Speak for yourself, I for one, will wait for as long as it takes for the culprit, Jamie Drazon to come out here and fess up!" The ambiguously gay colour commentator shrieks.

 

"Jamie Drazon!? How do you know it's him!? Why would he do that? He was gonna smoke up with Crow after the show!" Grand Slam yells.

 

The Antichrist Superstar grows more impatient and he swings around to look at the commentary position, placing an unlit cigarette in his mouth and brings the microphone to his lips once again as he turns around.

 

"And I wait... come on out... show your............ what the fuck!?" Taking Crow's attention away from his speech is the Smarktron, as the image present is one of Dante Crane... bloodied and battered, almost beaten to death... and behind him is a horrified Jessica, shrieking for help.

 

“Good god, Riley! What the hell is going on?” Stevens yells.

 

“Damned if I know, Stevens! There goes Crow! Lookit that ass!” Riley….crows.

 

Stevens doesn’t even make a shot at Riley’s gay comment as they watch Crow tear around the ring and start up the ramp, shouting Dante and Jessica’s names. The gothic warrior is about halfway up the ramp when every single light in the arena drops out. Crow lets out an expletive yet again and stops on the ramp as a spotlight focuses on the curtain.

 

A familiar song begins to echo through the arena. Crow looks up at the Smarktron.

 

A more familiar face scowls down at him, part of an even more familiar entrance video.

 

“ALL THAT I KNOW!

THERE WAS NO GOD FOR ME!

FORCE THAT SHATTERS ALL!

ABSENCE OF HUMANITY!”

 

The chorus of Fear Factory’s “Resurrection” rips through the arena, causing the crowd to boo and Crow to glare at the entrance ramp as a seven-foot figure steps through it. Resplendent in his white trenchcoat and hair tied back, Janus smiles at the gothic one coldly.

 

“It’s Janus, Riley! He’s not booked to wrestle tonight, so why is he..wait…”

 

”HE DID IT!” Riley cheers. “HE WAS THE ONE!”

 

The Hell Machine stands smiling at the Antichrist Superstar, and throwing his arms up into the air, an explosion of blue pyrotechnics shoots up from the ramp! Crow throws his arms in front of his face to shield from them from damage, and as the pyrotechnics die down, he looks up at the ramp… with a gut-wrenching gaze of hatred.

 

“So that vile, despicable machine that we call Janus is responsible for this heinous showing of violence against Crow and his friends! What a damn disgrace.” Stevens reports, with a hint of anger.

 

Bobby Riley is stunned. “Vile, despicable!? You say them like they’re bad!”

 

Janus and Crow, the two mortal enemies, stretching back to their time in the SJL, continue to stare at each other. Tension dripping from their bodies onto the floor, enrapturing the audience and the commentators… this is what we’ve all been waiting for. A moment passes before any word is spoken, and you can feel the rage within Crow reach a peak.

 

“It… was you. All along it was you, Terrence.” The words of Crow crack a bone in Janus’ body.

 

“How many times do I have to tell you? My name is JANUS!” is the reply as the Machine from Hell rushes down the ramp, shrugging off his trenchcoat, and fires a huge right hand at Crow’s face. Staggering back, the Antichristian Phenomenon screams out, begging for more punches. “COME ON! Hit me again! Come on!” And Crow gets his wish, as Janus sends another huge right hand into the face.

 

“And now Janus is attacking Crow! But look, the bird is just smiling… he’s laughing!” Stevens shouts.

 

Crow falls back and smacks into the apron, but as blood spills from his mouth and nose, a roaring laughter is emitted. A laughter… he’s laughing at Janus.

 

“Janus!? You know that’s not your fucking name! YOUR NAME IS TERRENCE! Take control, Terry, take over the body!” Crow spits blood onto the canvas, and slides into the ring before Janus can deal out any more damage. The Hell Machine scowls, and climbs up onto the apron…

 

…but isn’t going any further as Crow, the Gothic Avian, charges and jumps shoulder first through the ropes and drives it into Janus’ stomach! The two wrestlers fall to the thinly protected concrete floor and hit with tremendous crash!

 

*THUD! THUD!*

 

They’re not going to lay on the ground for a long time, fuelled by their hate for each other, they start to get up almost straight away! But wait, security is running down the ramp and is coming in from everywhere to break the two men up. Count ’em, more than twenty men out there, and they’re all holding Janus back, but even twenty men are having a huge amount of trouble! It’s a huge pack of life on the ramp, but Crow has managed to sneak his way out, taking out a couple security lads. But where’s he going? He’s jumped up onto the apron…

 

…

 

…then he jumps up onto the second ropes, bunches his legs and moonsaults off! The Antichrist Superstar soars through the air, and hits his target… the huge pack of security and the HELL MACHINE! The crowd roars in approval and stands on their feet for the showing of high risk offence!

 

“Jesus Christ! Security is trying to restrain these men but there’s no chance of it, it seems!” Stevens is shocked.

 

“Janus wants to finish the job, and all the power to him if he wants to! Glee!” Riley giggles.

 

The majority of the bodies lay dormant on the floor, but two… are still moving. It’s once again, Crow and Janus, they’re not staying down, and they’re both getting up! -The Hoss-Monster Janus is the first to stand up, he used the security guards as a blanket, if you will, and got himself protected. The Hell Machine stands up, and pulls the rising Crow up by the hair… he rears his right arm back and clenches the fist and SMACKS Crow in the face with the KNUCKLE BOMB! The Gothic Warrior is thrown off his feet and stumbles back down to ringside, but oh no… Janus isn’t going to let him go.

 

Following the Antichristian Phenomonon, the Hell Machine grabs Crow as he tries to mount the apron again. Driving a knee into the dazed gothic avian’s stomach, Janus watches his enemy double over and smiles, shoving Crow’s head between his legs and slashing both thumbs across his throat with a wide and none-too-pleasant grin. Hoisting Crow high into the air, the giant holds the Antichrist Superstar up at nearly eight feet in the air….

 

….AND SLAMS HIM INTO THE MAT WITH A DARK BOMB!

 

“By god! Janus just annihilated Crow! Just like he did with Crow’s friend Dante, the Hell Machine is going to brutalise the man who called him Terrence!” Stevens sounds horrified.

 

“Wooo! Wait…what’s going on up the ramp, Grand Spam?” Riley queries.

 

Standing at the top of the ramp is a girl wearing a long black dress. The neckline is cut low, almost enough to see her more-than-average cleavage, but the fact the camera focuses on this doesn’t faze her. With a worried look on her face, the woman begins to walk down the ramp in high-heeled boots. Down next to the ring, Janus reaches under the apron and pulls out his favourite weapon…

 

…but as he lifts the Equalizer above his head and prepares to bloodify Crow, the mystery female comes up behind him and lifts a leg…driving a swift and well aimed kick into Janus’ Hellish Genitalia! The big man drops the Equalizer and clutches at his crotch, but doesn’t fall over as the crowd cheers the woman’s actions!

 

“Wait! I recognise her now! She’s Jessica…the girl from the video clip Crow showed us!”

 

”And she has no business kicking Janus in his precious parts! She’s gonna pay, somehow!”

 

Riley’s whining words are proven true as Janus slowly straightens up. The Hell Machine turns around slowly, his gleaming red eyes locking onto the pretty young face of the female who had just kicked him, who glares back at him through long black locks. The two engage in a staredown for several moments, before Janus’ hand abruptly swings around…

 

…*SMACK*…

 

…and locks around Jessica’s throat like a vice! She shrieks muffledly, clawing at the giant’s hand as he holds her by the throat and smiles maliciously, slashing his other hand across his throat again as he heaves her up into the air! Preparing to annihilate her for what she’s done, Janus looks up at the struggling female…right into her panicked eyes.

 

“By god, he’s going to…wait…is he hesitating?” Stevens blinks.

 

“Noooo! Don’t go soft, Janus! You have to be hard!” Riley shrieks.

 

Shaking his head, Janus continues to stare up at Jessica, indeed hesitating as Grand Slam had noted. Still holding her in the air, the Hell Machine seems to consider, but his hesitation costs him as he hears movement behind him and begins to turn around…

 

…and Crow leaps off the apron, smashing a glass light tube into Janus’ face! The Hell Machine crumples to the ground with glass shards lacerating his face, and Jessica falls to her feet and stumbles, helping Crow back up! The crowd cheers for this apparent team unity as they both look down at the fallen and bloody Hell Machine, before Jessica helps Crow retreat up the ramp post-haste!

 

“It looks like Crow found out who pummelled him last show, and made him pay, Riley!”

 

”Ooo, Janus won’t be happy when he wakes up! Neither will Thoth when he finds out what Crow has done!”

 

”Speaking of Thoth, I wonder if he’ll be happy with Janus over this…”

 

Security around the battlezone is also reviving, and as the men begin to rise to their feet, they’re joined by a behemoth as Janus abruptly sits up and rises, brushing glass from his face and smearing blood over his gloved hands! He looks down at his hands, then feels his face…

 

…and the Hell Machine smiles. He turns and ignores the still rising security, stalking up the ramp with a slow and deadly grace, pausing only to pick up his discarded trenchcoat and swing it around his shoulders before stalking off backstage.

 

“Well that was…impressive…Riley. What was meant to be Crow vs. Johnny Dangerous turned into something so very much different…”

 

”We’ll be right back, hopefully we’ll see more of Janus killing Crow, too!” Riley chortles with glee as SWF Smarkdown fades to commercial.

 

Fade out.

[Guest Suicide King]

“Welcome back fans to yet another stacked edition of SWF SmarkDown!” shouts out ‘Grand Slam’ Mark Stevens as the crowd reacts to Funyon warming up the crowd in the center of the ring. “And what a night of action that we’ve already brought into the living rooms of millions of fans. But there is still more action coming your way here as old rivals Wildchild and Ejiro Fasaki restart the feud that put them both on the map. Bobby Riley, I know you’ve been working hard this week to bring the people the history for this battle. Why don’t you break it down for the people?”

 

“Well, I think the truth of the matter is that Wildchild sucks and Ejiro is going to just keep beating him up over and over again,” replies the happy voice of the color commentator.

 

“…”, Stevens stares, “… Take it away Funyon.”

 

“Ladies and gentlemen,” begins the silvery voice of the ring announcer, “this next contest is scheduled for ONE fall with a thirty minute time limit… Introducing first…”

 

JUSTICE!

 

RULE!

 

POPPOPPOPPOPPOPPOPPOPPOPPOPPOP!

 

With red explosions sounding high in the air, the crowd immediately breaks in a number of annoyed groins as one half of the World Tag Team Champions comes strutting from behind the curtain. Holding his title belt above his head, Ejiro Fasaki twirls as he walks down to the ring to show the entire Missouri crowd the gold he has been carrying for three months with The Judge William Hearford. Sliding underneath the bottom rope, Ejiro places the gold across his shoulder and extends a hand to Funyon to ask for the microphone. Sinking in his tuxedo, the ring announcer nonetheless hands the stick over to the tag team specialist.

 

Placing the microphone next to his mouth, Fasaki begins to speak. “You know… if there are two things I hate in this world, I would have to say the first is long lines at the supermarket and the second … is Wildchild. My whole career has been one long lesson that this punk has never been able to lean. I’ve tried to make this little peckerwood understand that his entire way of thinking is and always has been wrong. It was wrong for him to depend on Johnny Dangerous. It was wrong for him to play up to you stupid bastards out in the crowd…”

 

The Kemper crowd responds in a typical Pavlovian manner, “YOU SUCK! YOU SUCK! YOU SUCK!”

 

Fasaki continues, “If I suck, what does that say about Wildchild? I am a winner! I am the undefeated, longest reigning tag team champion in SWF history! And what does Wildchild have? He’s got nothing! Nothing but a partner that turned on him and a bunch of fans that couldn’t find The Bahamas on the map if they wanted to…”

 

“YOU SUCK! YOU SUCK! YOU SUCK!”

 

“So without further ado… let’s get this thing over with so I can go back to being a winner and the rest of you can just keep on being what you are… losers. But remember, Wildchild… I am RIGHT and you know it. That you haven’t let it sink in even now, is damn near silly. It’s an embarrassment to all the hard work I have put into you. And if you think I’m going to let you keep on being this second rate punk, you haven’t learned anything yet.”

 

Passing back the microphone to Funyon, Ejiro smiles broadly as the ring announcer is finally able to get out his introductions, “Weighing in tonight at 189 pounds and hailing from Sarasota, Florida… this is one half of the SWF World Tag Team Champions EJIRO FASAKI! … AND HIS OPPONENT!”

 

With the sounds of The Smashing Pumpkins wafting into the arena, the crowd leaps off their seats to shake their heads right along with the man that emerges from behind the curtain, The Wildchild! Exploding from behind the curtain, The Bahamas Bomber moves from one side of the stage to the other as the crowd continues to roar away with their adoration. Clapping hands the entire way to the ring, Wildchild shows no signs of being depressed by the recent turns in his life and the dissolution of his tag team. Sliding into the ring, Wildchild leaps up to the middle rope and raises his arms to the people, but just for a second…

 

“Fasaki attacks from behind!” shouts Mark Stevens as Ejiro slams a forearm into the back of Wildchild’s head as the Andros Athlete comes leaping off the middle rope. “What a coward! What a snake in the grass!”

 

With Funyon trying to dart out of the way, Ejiro sends Wildchild across the ring in an instant with an Irish whip only to find Wildchild’s legs suddenly tied around his head. Having grabbed a hold of the top rope as he was heading into the buckle, Wildchild slung himself up and caught the charging member of Justice and Rule around the head. Letting go of the top rope and tucking into a roll, Wildchild sends Fasaki tumbling right through the middle rope and all the way to the arena floor. Standing tall in the ring, Wildchild hears Funyon belt out his portion of the introductions.

 

“Weighing 217 pounds and from The Island of The Bahamas… THIS IS WILLLLLLLLLLDCHILLLLLLLLLLD!”

 

At the sound of his name and the crowd’s cheering of it, Wildchild leaps over the top rope and collides with the staggered Fasaki with a slingshot body press that smashes Fasaki flat against the hard concrete floor! Leaping to his feet immediately, Wildchild lifts his hands to the people once more as they applaud the execution of the high-flying offense that has always been Wildchild’s forte. Clapping his own hands together to get the people together, Wildchild leads his own cheering section for a moment before he tosses Ejiro back inside the ring. Leaping up to the apron, Wildchild slams his hand up and down on the top turnbuckle to signal to the fans that there is more of that kind of action to come. Leaping to the top rope in an instant, The Bahamas Bomber soars once again before coming into contact with the already stammered tag team wrestler.

 

WHAM!

 

“A HUGE flying body press from the top rope!”

 

ONE!

 

TWOONOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

 

“Kick out at two by Ejiro Fasaki!”

 

“Ejiro is tough as nails,” reports Riley, “Wildchild would have to hit him with an atomic bomb to put that guy down. But even then the bomb would probably only end up giving Ejiro superhuman powers! YEAH! And then he could fly around the world at superhuman speeds to reverse time so Tommy would have never lost the World Championship!”

 

“…”

 

Pushing the stunned grappler into a corner, Wildchild lifts a finger to his lips to quiet the dull noise of the crowd for a second before…

 

CHOP!

 

WHOOOO!

 

CHOP!

 

WHOOOO!

 

Pushing back into Ejiro and hooking him under the arm, Wildchild heaves forward and hip tosses the smaller man across the ring. And then as Ejiro rises, Wildchild leaps up and onto his shoulders for just a moment before pulling Fasaki down to the mat with a flying head scissors takedown. Releasing the scissors as soon as they hit the mat, Wildchild rolls away once more and watches for another opening before leaping onto Fasaki once more…

 

WHUMP!

 

But Fasaki falls strait down and drives Wildchild’s face into the mat with a modified flapjack! Slamming down at a hundred miles per hour on his face just does not do anything to make Wildchild feel anymore kindly towards his opponent. But it is not his wishes that are important right now as Ejiro begins to kick and stomp away at his downed opponent.

 

“And this is just what Fasaki has to do to win this match up,” Stevens teaches the home audience. “He needs to get Wildchild down on the mat and work him over. Anytime you see The Andros Athlete on his feet and in the ropes, the advantage will go to him.”

 

Knowing that information just as well as anyone in the arena, Fasaki continues to kick away before finally pulling Wildchild up to his feet and pushing him back into a corner where there is simply less room to maneuver. Loading up, Fasaki hammers away at Wildchild’s face with a barrage of short forearms against the jaw before using a grip on Wildchild to send the high-flyer to the canvas with a snap mare takedown that leaves Wildchild in a seated position on the canvas. Hopping against the ropes for a little momentum, Ejiro hurdles over his foe and does some focused damage with a Hennig neck snapper. Continuing to press his advantage, Ejiro goes back to stomping away at his adversary as Wildchild tries to roll away and perhaps catch a moment to get his air back.

 

“This is what Fasaki is so very good at, Bobby. He gets an advantage and goes to work with it. He grinds away and grinds away until it hurts you to even fight back. And when the pain gets to be so bad you aren’t even thinking strait; that is just when Ejiro puts you away.”

 

Pulling Wildchild up by the hair, Ejiro cinches up and snaps The Bahamas Bomber back down to the mat in a shot with a suplex that rocks the ring and, more importantly, Wildchild with the impact. Holding onto the head though, Ejiro hopes to do some more damage as he swings the hips in order to get Wildchild onto his stomach where Fasaki can lock him down with a front face lock.

 

“YOU SUCK! YOU SUCK! YOU SUCK!” chants the crowd at the sight of the wear down hold as Fasaki merely takes a moment to smile at their lack of appreciation of actual wrestling.

 

“These Philistines,” accuses Bobby Riley, “they just have never idolized Ejiro’s style of wrestling the way they have always fawned over that clown, Wildchild. Fasaki has proved to be unbelievably effecting with these kinds of holds, what has Wildchild ever done?”

 

“He beat Ejiro for the SJL Heavyweight title if I recall correctly,” recalls Stevens… correctly I might add.

 

“That was a statistical aberration and you know it!”

 

Pushing up against the choking nature of the hold, Wildchild forces his way up to his feet as Ejiro continues to try and permanently close his windpipe. But Ejiro just does not have the strength to make this hold as effective as a Danny Williams might, and he cannot power Wildchild down to the canvas and keep him there. Finally up to his vertical base, Wildchild uses his twenty-pound weight advantage to uncharacteristically bull rush Rule into a corner and knock his face lock lose. Popping his head lose, Wildchild once more blazes a trail across Ejiro’s pectorals with a dagger of a chop!

 

CHOP! CHOP! CHOP!

 

Taking Ejiro by the arm, Wildchild heaves him across the ring with an Irish whip and comes running across the ring only to be met with a hard elbow across the face that knocks the Bahamas Bomber back a few paces and into he center of the ring. Trying to rebuild his advantage, Fasaki leans forward once more for a charging elbow only to find that Wildchild has ducked out of the way.

 

CRACK!

 

And popped back into view with a blindly thrown sidekick that knocks the tastes right out of Ejiro’s mouth and knocks him down hard to the canvas like a very small tree. Waiting on Fasaki once more, Wildchild attacks from the side this time and snaps a kick into Ejiro’s thigh that sends Fasaki down to a knee and gives Wildchild the opening to hit the ropes and then… hit Fasaki.

 

“RUNNING ELBOWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA~!” shouts out Stevens as Wildchild virtually knocks Ejiro’s head loose with a mammoth crushing strike to the jaw.

 

Lifting a finger into the air, Wildchild once more brings the fans’ cheers to his ears as he heads to a corner and once more slings himself all the way up to the very top rope strand. Steadying himself for just a second, Wildchild takes flight… jackknifing his own body and he twists on the way to the mat and crushes Fasaki beneath his weight with a huge frog splash! Hitting with such impact even stuns Wildchild as he bounces off his target while clutching at his ribs. Slowly rolling back over, Wildchild leans across the comatose Ejiro for…

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

THREEENOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOEJIROKICKSOUT!

 

The crowd groans in disbelief as the tag team specialist has enough of his wits about him that he can get a shoulder up at the count of two in order to stay alive in this one fall contest. Slamming a hand against the canvas, Wildchild registers his discontent with referee Matthew Kivell for a moment before he heads back to work as far as taking Ejiro out of this match. Dragging Ejiro up to a vertical base, Wildchild cinches up on his long time rival and brings him high into the air in position for a vertical suplex. But instead of merely falling backward, Wildchild turns sharply as he takes Ejiro to the mat with a debilitating corkscrew suplex that once again places Fasaki flat on the canvas. Pulling Fasaki off the mat immediately, The Bahamas Bomber tosses Ejiro across the ring before leaping into the air with a rolling elbow attack that finds the mark. Diving across Ejiro once more, Wildchild hooks the far leg tightly as the referee counts once more.

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

THRNOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

 

“This has always been the weak point of Wildchild’s style if you ask me Stevens,” interjects Riley much to everyone’s annoyance. “He’s really good at using his speed to get control of a match. But once he has someone down and hurt, Wildchild just doesn’t have it in him to maintain that control. He’s much more dedicated to taking the big homerun swings.”

 

“I thought I was supposed to make the baseball analogies.”

 

“But I am the undisputed master at switch hitting.”

 

“… I won’t argue that.”

 

Frustrated by the snail’s pace that he’s forced to work at, Wildchild looks to create a little more momentum as he sends Ejiro into the ropes and leapfrogs over the returning member of the Magnificent Seven. Hitting the ropes himself for even more momentum, Wildchild launches himself into the air and aims a forearm right at Fasaki’s cranium. But at the last moment, Fasaki baseball slides right underneath the outstretched arm of his adversary and allow Wildchild to hit nothing but canvas. Quickly Wildchild rolls up to his feet and helps pull a recovering Fasaki by the hair up to his feet. Leaning back, Wildchild sends a chop the way of Rule only to watch as Fasaki once more ducks out of reach and comes back up…

 

CRACK!

 

“ENZIGURI!”

 

Dropping to a knee from the blow, Wildchild grabs onto the back of his neck as Ejiro tries to make something out of this small opening. Darting behind Wildchild as quickly as he can, Ejiro lifts his adversary for a belly-to-back suplex but the nimble circus performer simply over rotates and lands behind Rule out of harm for the next moment. But as the moment ends, Ejiro sends a hard back elbow right into Wildchild’s nose and sends the Bahamas Bomber reeling back a few paces and allowing Ejiro to get in close and drive Wildchild down to the mat with a hard high angle STO leg sweep!

 

“What a move by the tag team champion,” notes Stevens. “Fasaki has finally established a bit of an advantage over his rival with that STO. But you have to wonder just how much Fasaki has in the tank and whether he will be able to make something out of this move.”

 

Lining up Wildchild as the Bahamas Bomber rolls up to his feet, Fasaki slams a hard elbow into his adversary with some visible effect. Taking Wildchild by the arm, Ejiro looks to send The Andros Athlete across the ring only to see Wildchild reverse the whip and send Ejiro in instead. Leaping into the air, Wildchild looks to send Ejiro over the top with a monkey flip only to have Fasaki catch Wildchild out of the air for just a moment and place Wildchild on the top rope in a seated position. Breaking free from Wildchild’s loose grip, Fasaki tries to knock Wildchild over with a right hand, but the former high wire performer blocks it and jars Ejiro back with a closed fist of his own. Finally getting some space between himself and Fasaki, Wildchild springs into the air again… and pays the price!

 

THUMP!

 

Catching Wildchild on the way down, Fasaki pelts him with a swift kick directly to the stomach that causes all the wind to go racing out of his lungs. Bent over from the blow, Wildchild has no defense as Fasaki rips him into the mat with a spinning neck breaker that loosely builds on the damage Ejiro did earlier in the match with the face lock and the STO. Not stopping there with his assault on Wildchild’s neck, Ejiro pulls the Bahamas Bomber up to his feet and buries a series of elbows down across his neck with a fiery abandon that sends Wildchild almost wilting down to the mat in a heap. Breathing heavily from the exertion of his own blows, Ejiro stands for a moment with his hands on his hips before getting back on the attack. Once again using a snap mare to get Wildchild flat on the canvas, Ejiro turns Wildchild over and onto his stomach before dropping a measured knee down across the back of his neck. Putting all of the weight on the knee, Ejiro shouts down at Wildchild as he continues to work the neck.

 

“What now hero? What now? No Johnny to save you. Nobody cares! NOBODY!”

 

But to prove the opposite is true…

 

“WILD… CHILD! WILD… CHILD! WILD… CHILD!”

 

Stevens states the obvious, “And the crowd is getting behind the young man from the Bahamas! They ARE on his side! They DO want him to succeed! And they WILL cheer him to the bitter end!”

 

Fighting up from underneath, Wildchild slips free of the pressure from the knee only to find Ejiro grab a more secure hold with a chinlock. But even then, Wildchild forces his way up and off the mat! Turning into Ejiro, Wildchild sends a hard elbow into his opponent’s breadbasket to loosen the grip on his neck even more. Finally feeling enough air between himself and Ejiro, Wildchild runs forth and into the ropes. Charging back into his opponent, Wildchild sends Fasaki into the mat with a shoulder tackle. Hitting the ropes once more to get even more momentum Wildchild looks to send another shoulder into Ejiro only to feel the odd sensation of tripping as Ejiro goes low with a drop toe hold. Grabbing the stunned Wildchild by the hair, Fasaki drags him over to the ropes and presses his throat down across the middle strand much to the aggravation of the referee and all the fans in the Kemper Arena. But still, Ejiro takes the time to further aggravate everyone that can hear his high pitched voice.

 

“Don’t try that again! You aren’t good enough and never have been!”

 

“WILD… CHILD! WILD… CHILD! WILD… CHILD!”

 

“Shut up!” yells Fasaki as he finally breaks his hold on Wildchild’s neck.

 

With Wildchild left prone on the ropes, Ejiro Fasaki heads against the strands himself for momentum as he comes racing back to drop all of his weight on Wildchild’s back only to find that the target has gone off radar!

 

WARRRRRUUUUUUUUUMMMMMMMMMMMM!

 

BANG!

 

“Wildchild dives out of harms way,” Stevens reports. “Ejiro slingshot himself off the ropes and knocked his own head against the canvas! Both men are down! What’s going to happen now?”

 

Rolling over his own shoulder, Ejiro finds himself on all fours in front of the ropes as Wildchild also struggles to find some degree of footing. Reaching out and grabbing the middle ropes, Ejiro tries to use it to get to get to his feet before the referee can both men out. But before Rule can even get off his knees, he feels the sting of a dropkick snap into the back of his head as Wildchild almost slides into his opponent from behind. Popping back up to his feet, Wildchild places his boot on the back of Ejiro’s neck and strangles him against the bottom rope much to the delight of the hypocritical fan base. Springing off of Fasaki’s neck, Wildchild looks out to the people and raises a hand into the air before he races into the ropes once more and…

 

BAM!

 

“CHICKLET BUSTAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

 

“Oh no! Ejiro’s is going to have top have all his food mashed up for him for the next week!”

 

Slammed off the ropes from the fury of the rope assisted swinging kick, Ejiro rolls into the center of the ring as Wildchild finds his feet once more on the apron. Turning his back to the ring, Wildchild lifts his hands to the people as they continue to plead for a victory. Using the ropes as a springboard, Wildchild launches himself back into the ring as he drops a stunning leg right across Fasaki’s head!

 

BOOOOOM!

 

Smashed to pieces by the blow, Rule tries desperately to get to the sanctuary of the floor only to get pulled back by a Wildchild determined to make a cover and end this thing right now!

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

THREEEEEEEEEEENOOOOOOOOOOOSHOULDERUP!

 

“NO WAY!” shouts Stevens as Wildchild stares with wide eyes to all the people in the arena. “I don’t think anyone thought that Fasaki was going to kick out of that one!”

 

Shaking his head from the shock of having Ejiro kick away, Wildchild raises to his feet as if to plan his next move for a moment. Finally making the call, the Bahamas Bomber lifts his index and pinkie finger high into the air.

 

“He’s in league with Satan and Bret Hart! I knew it all along!” rattles off Riley, but he’s wrong as per usual.

 

“You douche bag,” counters Stevens, “It’s to call out the Wild Rider, number…”

 

“TWOOOOOOOOOOO!” shouts the former circus star.

 

“What he said,” completes Stevens.

 

Pulling Ejiro up, Wildchild grabs Fasaki into position for what looks to the uninitiated like a fisherman’s suplex but as he heaves Ejiro skyward and holds him there, everyone knows that something bad is about to happen…

 

 

 

 

OOOOOOOOOOOOR NOT!

 

 

 

 

Throwing all of his weight in one direction, Ejiro falls out of position for the muscle buster and lands directly behind Wildchild. Grabbing a hold, Ejiro lifts Wildchild for a belly-to-back suplex only to have Wildchild once more escape the maneuver and land behind Fasaki in one swift motion where he can snag Ejiro in one fluid motion for…

 

“DRAGON SLEEPER! DRAGON SLEEPER!” shouts out Stevens as the SJL fans in attendance have a rapid flashback to the Malice in Wonderland pay per view where Wildchild won the SJL crown with this very hold!

 

Ejiro immediately begins to fade as Wildchild struggles to pull Fasaki down to a position where it will be impossible to counter… impossible to escape … impossible to…

 

“Ejiro turns into the maneuver! Northern Lights Suplex!”

 

Kivell dives to the canvas!

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

“FASAKI HAS THE TIGHTS GOD DAMN IT!”

 

THREE!

 

DING! DING! DING!

 

Releasing the struggling Wildchild the moment he hears the three count, Ejiro rolls to the relative safety of the floor as Wildchild immediately grabs Kivell by the lapels to protest the decision as the fans do so as well.

 

“BULLLLLLLLLLLSHIT! BULLLLLLLLLLLSHIT! BULLLLLLLLLLLSHIT!”

 

“The winner of this match… EJIRO FASAKI.”

 

“BULLLLLLLLLLLSHIT! BULLLLLLLLLLLSHIT! BULLLLLLLLLLLSHIT!”

 

Laughing as he collects his tag team gold from the timekeeper, Fasaki places more distance between himself and the incredulous Bahamas Bomber. Struggling against the referee, Wildchild can only look on in fearsome anger as Ejiro mouths to him three very terrible words…

 

“I told you so.”

[Guest Suicide King]

SWF Smarkdown returns to the air, but before the next match can get underway “Mama Said Knock You Out” by LL Cool J starts up, the crowd going up in a wave of boos as Stryke purposely moves out of the entranceway, a mic in hand as he makes his way to the ring!

 

Stevens: “Well, we thought it was time for the next match to get underway, but it looks as though Stryke has something he wants to get off his chest first!”

 

Riley: “The Stryke promo is something rarely seen, so I suggest everyone shut up and listen, the ICTV champ’s no doubt got something important to say.”

 

Stryke forgoes the pyro and posing he’d normally have during his entrance, instead quickly walking up the ring steps and stepping into the ring, removing the ICTV belt from his waist and propping it over his shoulder as he brings the microphone to his mouth, looking out into the sea of fans filling the Kemper Arena.

 

Stryke: “Go ahead, boo me.”

 

The crowd hardly need any instruction to do that, continuing to jeer the Australian.

 

Stryke: “That’s right, boo all you want, but it won’t change the fact that I’m YOUR Intercontinental-Television Champion.”

 

Riley: “That’s right, he is, and he deserves all the credit in the world.”

 

The boos of the crowd pick up in volume once again, obviously not happy that Stryke dethroned Williams for the belt, a ‘STRYKE SUCKS!’ chant starting up in earnest.”

 

Stryke: “See? Look at this. Despite this belt I’ve got sitting on my shoulder, a belt that is worth more than most of your trailers, you still give me zero respect. I beat Danny Williams to win this title, a man thought to be near unbeatable. I beat him clean as a whistle in the middle of the ring, but still you treat me as if I was some common jobber!”

 

Riley: “Damn straight, these fans should appreciate the superstar standing in the ring right now.”

 

Stryke: “I know what you’re thinking, that it was a fluke, that I got lucky, I caught Danny on an off-day. Well you know what I say to that? FUCK YOU! My entire time in this goddamn federation it’s been like this, no matter what I do, no matter who I beat, I still don’t get the credit I deserve. You’d think I was Cutthroat or something with how little I’m thought of. I’ve beaten just about everyone I’ve faced in both the JL and WF, I’ve held at least one title almost the entire time I’ve been active, I ask you what more do I have to do?”

 

Stevens: “Oh boo-hoo, crying about the past won’t get him anywhere.”

 

Stryke: “I’ve tried doing things the ‘right way’, I’ve tried sitting back and waiting for my time in the spotlight, I’ve tried paying my dues, but now that shit’s finished with. From this point forward I’m going to start doing things my way. No more sitting back and letting things happen, I’m taking control of my destiny. The ICTV title, this is just a starting point, I will tear through everyone who steps into my path, I will do whatever it takes until I get the respect from everyone that I feel, no, I KNOW I deserve, that’s a damn guarantee.”

 

Once again the crowd boos Stryke heavily, not giving him any of the respect he so desires.

 

Riley: “Oh what do these moron fans know. I guess that’s why they call this the heartland of America, cause the brains not here.”

 

Stryke: “I know it’s easy to say though, any idiot can say they’re going to take the federation by storm, but my actions have always spoken louder than my words, and I’m gong to prove I mean business starting tonight. See, tonight I was looking forward to facing Danny Williams one more time with the ICTV Title on the line. I was looking forward to beating his roided-up ass once again, two straight wins over Danny Williams would erase any feelings that my holding this belt is a ‘fluke’. Unfortunately he decided to move on and go for the World Title, but it’s no matter, as tonight I have another opponent who will be more than suitable, Beezel.”

 

The fans give a cheer at the mention of the Catch-22 leader, giving no secret as to who they’ll be supporting later in the show.

 

Stevens: “That’s right, Beezel won the shot against Janus on Lockdown, and for Stryke’s sake I hope he’s not looking past El Scorcho, Beezel is more than capable of winning the ICTV Title later tonight.”

 

Stryke: “Go ahead, cheer him. Chant his name as loud as you can. It’ll just make it even sweeter when I beat his masked-ass into the ground and walk out of Smarkdown with the ICTV belt still around my waist. I already beat Beezel and three other men at 13th Hour, however tonight I’ll be glad to give him my full attention as I give him beating that’ll make his matches with Janus look like a pillow-fight in comparison. Tonight he can use all the Carnival moves he likes, he can use all the Spider Nekura moves he likes, hell, he can stick a bone through his hair and copy BasketballASA for all I care, but it won’t change the fact that he will become the first of many to fall by my hand, there’s no way I’m letting go of this title so soon.”

 

Riley: “Damn straight, Beezel won’t ever get his hands on that title as long as Stryke has it.”

 

Stevens: “Do you have to mindlessly repeat everything Stryke says? Both you and Stryke look to be severely underestimating Beezel, he’s as good as anyone in the SWF today.”

 

Stryke: “Don’t mistake my words for overconfidence though. Beezel, whoever he is, I admit he has plenty of talent under that ridiculous costume of his, and if the planets align and the gods smile down on him maybe, just maybe he might find a way of beating me tonight. Should the retard in red steal this title away from me though, it won’t stop me. It’ll just be a bump in the road, I’d tear through as many people as it takes until I get this title back, a few losses won’t faze me on my path to greatness, they’ll only serve to make me more determined to succeed. Now before I go get ready to give Catch-22 another loss, there’s two more things I need to say, and they have to do with two men, Michael Craven and Longdogger Pete.”

 

The crowd boo at the mention of Craven, but soon revert to cheers at haring the name of LDP, the Kemper Arena filled with Longdogger fans.

 

Stryke: “Firstly, Michael Craven. Now, did my ears deceive me, or after his US Title match on Lockdown did he challenge me for a shot at this title? Craven, you have the gall to call me out?! Michael Craven, Ash Ketchum, King of Nightmares, whatever you’re calling yourself this week, let me tell you something. You are a pest. You are an annoyance that has plagued me the entire time I’ve been with this federation, both the WF and the JL. Just when I think I’m done with you, you always manage to stick your stupid head in my business, and frankly, I’m sick and tired of it. I should tell you to fuck off and stick that US Title of yours up your ass, but you know what? I’m not going to. Now I’ve lost my fair share of matches in the WF, but none of them anger me more than the fact that I managed to let you beat me not once, not twice, but THREE times on pay per view. No matter what I do, those losses will be a black cloud over my head that I can’t get rid of. I don’t mind losing to someone if they’re the better man, but I KNOW I’m better than you, I KNOW I can beat you, and right now I’d relish an opportunity to kick your ass again and prove it. So if I’m still the ICTV Champ after tonight, I’d be ecstatic to give you a title shot any time you want, nothing would make me happier than to spill your blood all over this ring one more time. And hell, maybe I’ll take that US title off your hands while I’m at it, I’ve always been a fan of having double gold.”

 

Stevens: “Well, looks like Stryke has accepted Craven’s challenge, but whether this is official or not I don’t know, Craven may still have to earn his shot first. And should Beezel win the belt then Craven will have to direct his challenge to Beezel instead..”

 

Stryke: “And now onto my main reason for coming out here, LDP. I know you people in Kansas City aren’t very smart, so I’ll refresh your memory. Lets look at what happened on Lockdown.”

 

 

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = =

 

"I have an announcement to make. As of today... Longdogger Pete... is officially..."

 

Suddenly Pete's announcement is interrupted by "Mama Said Knock You Out" by LL Cool J. Immediately Stryke emerges from the stage and runs down the ramp at a full clip, carrying a steel chair!

 

"STRYKE!" shouts Riley.

 

"What's he doing out here?" wonders Stevens.

 

Stryke gets to the ring so quickly that Pete doesn't even notice until it's too late. Pete, hearing the sudden change in the audience's tone, turns around to see what the matter is -- only to be slugged across the head with the steel chair!

 

"NO!" hollers Stevens. "CHAIRSHOT!"

 

Pete reels, staggering back two steps, and Stryke swings again. SMACK! This time Pete is launched literally off his feet, dropping to the mat, flat on his back as the audience begins jeering this turn of events. Stryke places one foot on Pete's stomach and raises the chair in the air to display his handiwork.

 

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = =

 

 

The crowd once again boo the actions of Stryke, before quieting down to perhaps hear an explanation for his attack on LDP.

 

Stryke: “Why are you booing me for that? You people should be THANKING me! Now it seems that in the wrestling business nothing can be kept a secret for more than 5 minutes, so I’m sure most of you heard that Longdogger Pete was about to announce his retirement from the SWF. If I didn’t come out, your hero Pete would already be living it up in some retirement village down in Miami.”

 

The Kansas City fans begin to boo the thought of LDP leaving the SWF, but don’t get much of a chance as Stryke starts up again.

 

Stryke: “But now you wonder, why would Stryke stop LDP from announcing his retirement? Why would Stryke give a shit that Longdogger Pete is packing up his bags and going home? After all, he was a founding member of X Force 9, the stable which has been the bane of my existence during my time in this fed, and in the matches we’ve had there was certainly no love lost between us, matches I won the majority of by the way.”

 

Stryke pauses for a moment, letting the boos die down before continuing to talk in a calm voice.

 

Stryke: “I can understand why you boo me. Longdogger Pete is a veteran of this business, well liked and respected by everyone. From the AWF, to the IGNJL, to the SWF, he’s done pretty much everything there is to do. But I think it’s time you people faced facts. You see, by announcing his retirement, LDP’s admitting the truth. And what is that truth?

 

That he sucks.

 

That he’s washed up.

 

That he just can’t cut it anymore.

 

That he’s not only shit now, but he’s always been shit.

 

He goes to give a heartfelt goodbye to his fans, leaving while he’s still has a little bit of reputation left, before he’s revealed as the joke he is. But you know what? I just can’t allow that to happen. I told you I wasn’t going to just let things happen anymore, that I was going to take control of my destiny. Well this is step one. Longdogger Pete, the only way your going to leave this federation is on a stretcher after I beat the holy hell out of you. The only retirement speech you’ll be able to give will be from a hospital bed. I am going to expose you for the overrated piece of crap you are, you will be made an example to the rest of the SWF that I’m not someone to take lightly. When I’m done with you, both you and these fans will have no choice but to accept the fact that you are nothing. You never were and you never will be.”

 

The boos are just deafening now, the crowd not buying anything Stryke’s saying as they boo him mercilessly.

 

Stevens: “Oh come on! I’ve never heard so much crap in my life, none of that is true! LDP is one of the best in the business, Stryke's blatant display of disrespect should be criminal! He’s speaking nearly as much garbage as you do Bobby.”

 

Riley: “I know, he makes me so proud.”

 

Stryke: “So if you still want to quit, fine, walk away before I can show the world…”

 

The crowd suddenly jumps to their feet, roaring in approval as Longdogger Pete has finally had enough of Stryke’s crap, mirroring Stryke’s actions from Lockdown as LDP sprints down the ramp with a steel chair in hand!

 

Stevens: “LDP’s finally had enough, I wouldn’t want to be Stryke right now!”

 

Pete slides into the ring and swings the chair with all his might! Stryke notices LDP coming just in the nick of time though, dropping down and rolling out of the ring just before LDP can connect! The fans continue to cheer for LDP as Pete throws the chair towards Stryke, the Australian running for cover. Stryke merely smiles though as he walks back up the ramp, both Pete and Stryke trading words, and though they’re inaudible to the crowd you don’t have to be a brain surgeon to work out they’re less than friendly.

 

Stevens: “Stryke just avoiding a similar fate to LDP last week, but after the tirade he just gave Stryke better watch his back for the Longdogger from now on! I think any retirement plans will be over now, if Stryke wants to pick a fight then I’m sure LDP will be more than happy to oblige. They better not be too focused on each other though, both men still have matches coming up later tonight, which we’ll see among others after this commercial break.”

[Guest Suicide King]

The camera returns to the sold out Kemper Arena in Kansas city, Missouri. It immediately pans the crowd, finding signs to make people famous for about .5 seconds. After circling for about five to seven seconds, the camera finally settles in front of the announce team of Mark Stevens and Bobby Riley.

 

Stevens: "Welcome back to SWF Smarkdown! What a show we've had so far... but we are only halfway done!"

 

Riley: "Bah! Why do I have to sit through these snorefests?"

 

Stevens: "I don't think this upcoming battle will be a snorefest! We have Jamie Drazon and Nathaniel Kibagami ready to go up against each other one on one!"

 

Riley: "Bah! They both suck now!"

 

Stevens: "Jamie Drazon returned last Lockdown with a vengeance, and annihilated the rookie Va'aiga with a piledriver onto a chair. Kibagami has some larger problems, his gigantic nemesis Janus has now teamed with his half brother Thoth, who has also gained the World Championship."

 

Riley: "I still am in shock that he beat Flesher!"

 

Stevens: "Whatever the case. You have to believe that somehow, someway Kibagami wants a shot at his brother and the title!"

 

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

 

I’ve been crawling on my belly,

Clearing out what could’ve been,

I’ve been wallowing in my own confusing

Insecure delusions

For a piece to cross me over,

Or a word to guide me in...

 

At this point, the entrance lights are fully up and focused on the curtains...

 

I want to feel the changes coming down,

I want to know what I’ve been hiding...

 

A brilliant explosion of white pyrotechnics momentarily blinds the audience and obscures the top of the ramp. As the pyrotechnics fade, Nathaniel Kibagami comes striding the through the smoke left in their wake, trenchcoat sailing behind him and the steel tipped cane in hand. The applause of the audience travelling through him.

 

Funyon: "The following contest is scheduled for one fall! Introducing first... he hails from Phoenix, Arizona! He stands at Six feet Five inches and weighs in at 268 pounds! He is NATHAN KIBAGAMI!!!"

 

Nathaniel makes his way to ringside, nodding to a fan here and there as he passes by, and slides into the ring. He rolls to his feet and agilely springs onto the nearby second turnbuckle, where he assumes the familiar crucifix pose, illuminated eerily in red for a brief moment before the lights come up and "Forty-Six and Two" fades away. He hops off the turnbuckle, cracks his neck for the pleasure of the crowd, and turns towards the opposite corner in wait for his opponent.

 

Stevens: "There's Nathan Kibagami... not in as solid of a body as once before... however he is just as deadly!"

 

Riley: "Well... that's what happens when you take piledrivers through cells that are fifteen feet in the air."

 

Nathan does a bit of shadow boxing, resting back in his corner. The lights drop...

 

BOOM

 

BOOM

 

BOOM

 

BOOM

 

The thousands of fireworks explode around the arena, rafters and entrance ramp... promptly leading to...

 

"THIS

 

 

IS

 

 

MAH

 

 

HOUSE!!"

 

The pre-recorded voice of Jamie Drazon echoes through the arena. Rammstein's 'Du Haste' quickly cranks its way into the speakers, without the lyrics as usual. The heavy beats thunder 360 degrees all over the arena. Jay Dawg steps through the curtains, his head down. He looks to the left, then to the right, grinning as he looks at the crowd before walking to the top of the ramp, slowly raising his head. He gets a good look at the Silent One before he lowers his head once more, although a smile without good intentions is now plastered on his face.

 

Funyon: "His opponent! He hails from Vancouver, British Columbia! He stands at Six feet Four inches and weighs in at 243 pounds! He is JAMIE 'JAY DAWG' DRAZON!!"

 

Drazon snaps his head up upon being announced and holds his arms in the air for the crowd to cheer. He quickly slides into the ring and pops to his feet, staring at Nathan he rolls his eyes into the back of his head, grinning as he looks at the Slaughterer.

 

Stevens: "These men have no fear, amazing fighting techniques, and a desire to destroy! It shall be interesting to see who will outdo who tonight!"

 

Riley: "Well someone should be able to snap their recent losing streaks!"

 

Stevens: "The fire is still strong in both of them."

 

Riley: "Yawn."

 

The bell rings but the men in the ring are patient, eying each other up, noticing the updates since their last encounters.

 

Stevens: "These men hold a victory each over each other from last Summer. I'm having trouble who to decide here."

 

Riley: "Their styles are very similar... although Kibagami has the weak neck, and Drazon seems to show 100% healthiness. It's still a tough decision."

 

After a few moments of taunts, insults, and challenges, it is agreed that the two lock up. Nathan shows his strength advantage, powering Drazon down to his knees, but Drazon quickly straightens up, getting a well positioned stance. Suddenly Nathan throws his knee up, but Drazon muscles the lockup down enough to block with his forearm. Nathan strikes with the other knee, Drazon blocks with the other arm. The lock up breaks, and Drazon throws out a double fist, cracking Nathan in his shoulders and knocks him back a step.

 

Stevens: "Drazon gets the first successful strike!"

 

Drazon steps in, throwing a punch, but Kibagami blocks the punch, throws the arm away and fires back with a roundhouse kick towards Drazon's mid-section. Except Drazon kicks his right leg out, connecting the ball of his foot into Nathan's thigh. Nathan retrieves his leg, rubbing away the minor charlie horse. Drazon fires a roundhouse kick to Kibagami's mid-section, but Kibagami blocks the same way, connecting with Drazon's right leg. Drazon grits his teeth from the sudden charlie horse.

 

Riley: "Heh! What a dummy!"

 

Stevens: Drazon with a well timed counter, only to fall victim to the same move!"

 

The Slaughterer steps in for the kill, throwing two fast jabs, connecting with Drazon's jaw. Nathan steps into Drazon, hooks his arm and throws him over his shoulder with a judo hip toss. But Drazon lands on his feet, repositions the arm, and flips Kibagami over his shoulder with the judo hip toss. Nathan lands on his feet facing Drazon and quickly takes the opportunity to fire a shotei into the chest cavity of Drazon. Taking a step back to absorb the blow, Drazon can only duck when he sees the leg of the Silent One swinging for his cranium. The audience begins to cheer for the display of their fighting talent.

 

Stevens: "Drazon can fire some mean kicks, but if anyone can throw them harder, it's Kibagami! Very, very smart to avoid those!"

 

Nathan lands on his feet after his spinkick and is the quicker of him and Drazon to fire an attack. Drazon takes a step back, but is able to swat away one of Kibagami's sidekicks. Nathan slides forward and fires his right leg out with a roundhouse kick. Jamie steps forward as well, sidestepping the kick and hooking his arm under Kibz leg, Drazon sends the Silent One painfully into the mat with a Dragon Screw legwhip. Kibagami rolls over his shoulders and to his rear while clutching his knee in pain. Noticing the opportunity, Drazon pops to his feet and thrusts for Kibagami, extending his right knee...

 

CRACK

 

Driving it right into the forehead of Kibagami! The lights seem to dim for Nathan after that blow, as the crowd both cheers and boos for Drazon's actions. Drazon gets a handful of the dyed red hair, pulling Kibagami to his feet and into a facelock. Drazon takes a second to pop his hips and kneel down, extending the choke into the hold. After three seconds, Drazon tosses Nathan's arm over his shoulder for the vertical suplex setup, and with the pop of the hips and one vicious snap, Kibagami finds himself on the receiving end of a snap suplex. Drazon shoves his forearm right under the nose of Nathan, grinding it in as he holds his chest down.

 

One...

 

 

Two...

 

Nathan gets a shoulder up.

 

Stevens: "Drazon has gained the advantage and doesn't want to let up!"

 

Jamie grins as Nathan holds his shoulder up, but Drazon drives the point of his elbow into the forehead of the Slaughterer, lifting up and repeating the same process. The eyes of Kibagami glaze over from the painful strikes. After hitting six successful strikes, Drazon pushes up to his feet, flips a one finger salute to the Slaughterer and stomps him down one more time. He reaches down, grabbing the hair and yanks Silent to his feet once more. Drazon pulls Nathan into a second facelock, but Nathan breaks free, hooks his elbow over Drazon's shoulder and forces him into the mat with an armbar takedown. Kibagami wrenches back, hyperextending the elbow and ripping up with the Fujiwara armbar.

 

Stevens: "Drazon has been a little more clever with combining his offense! Nathan has just switched it up a bit, stretching Drazon out a bit before hitting him!"

 

Riley: "That fujiwara armbar is one of the most painful holds in the fed! Drazon better get out quick or else it's a submission for the Silent One!"

 

Frustrated that he got caught, Drazon bites his lower lip as he tries to muscle up. The weight of Kibagami holds him down, so Drazon pushes up, and slides his free arm under his chest, killing the leverage Nathan holds. Reluctant, Nathan releases the hold as Drazon rolls forward, hooking his wrist and fires him into the ropes with an Irish whip. A bounce back and Nathan thrusts out his right leg...

 

CRACK

 

Knocking Drazon to the mat, and flipped over to his chest with a Yakuza kick!

 

Stevens: "Owe! A vicious Yakuza kick from the Slaughterer has just knocked Drazon silly!"

 

Drazon lies limp, his right leg dangling over the bottom rope. He starts to lift his head, wondering what the name of the truck it was that hit him. He taps his forehead, no blood, but the skull feels a little squishy. Kibagami pulls him to his feet and fires a knee strike into the face of Drazon. He follows it up quick by pulling Drazon into him, draping his arm over his chest and cradles his leg 'n' neck. Drazon begins to struggle, but is too groggy from the Yakuza kick. Kibagami throws Drazon over his head, and painfully slams him to the mat with a T-Bone suplex. Drazon lands hard on his back, but rolls to his chest and starts to press up, eliciting some cheers from the crowd.

 

Stevens: "Odd that Kibagami didn't go for the Exploder there..."

 

Riley: "Because Drazon can get up from this..."

 

Stevens: "Doesn't that defeat the point... oh I see."

 

Drazon makes it to one knee as Kibagami rebounds off the ropes. Drazon gets to his feet and immediately regrets it...

 

SMASH

 

Dropped hard with a Burning Lariat! Nathan makes the quick cover...

 

ONE...

 

 

TWO...

 

 

TH...Drazon gets a shoulder up with ease. Well aware that it takes more to keep Drazon down, Kibagami slides around so he is behind Drazon's head, lifting his upperbody and places his knee into Drazon's spine and pulls back on Drazon's arms with a kneeling surfboard stretch. The audience settles down, giving some cheers for both Drazon and Kibagami.

 

Stevens: "Drazon is one of the most intense wrestlers in the federation! It's becoming common strategy against him to wear him down and then hit him with some efficient blows!"

 

Riley: "You gotta put him down for three fast, the fucker keeps getting back up!"

 

Drazon lets his back relax a bit as Kibagami stretches the arms painfully back. Drazon starts to bridge his leg up, and kicks it backward! Drazon lets his leg stretch over top his head and kicks Nathan in the forehead with it! Obviously rocked by the blow, Kibagami hangs onto the hold with a crosseyed look. Disappointed, Drazon falls back into the stretch but bridges up quickly, letting his back rest over Nathan's knee. Jamie fires another kick, but Nathan releases the hold, catches the leg, hammers his elbow into it, and drives the leg into the mat with his elbow on top. "ARRGH!!" Drazon hollers in pain from the sudden leg strike. Drazon begins to crawl away as Kibagami starts to scissorlock his leg.

 

Stevens: "Nathan is looking to stretch Drazon into submission!"

 

Drazon's nails dig into the mat as the crowd cheers for him to make it to the ropes. The other crowd cheers for Nathan to do some more damage, as Drazon clearly doesn't look like he's ready to tap out yet. Finally Drazon fires his spare leg back, catching Kibagami in the chin with it. The impact breaks Drazon free and he pushes to his feet and sprints for the ropes. Nathan rolls forward, closely behind Drazon. The hardcore maniac ricochets off the ropes, spotting Nathan in front of him and on his feet, Drazon thrusts his right arm forward with a clothesline. However Nathan ducks to the lower left, trips Drazon into the mat with a drop toehold and applies an anklelock.

 

Stevens: "Drazon just got taken to school!"

 

Regretting that his rage was turned against him, Drazon grabs the back of his hair, holding in the screams of pain. Nathan begins to viciously wrench on the ankle lock as Drazon sucks up the pain. Drazon begins to twist his body to the left, rolling partially onto his shoulder, Nathan keeps the hold on, and cranks it in even harder.

 

"ARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHH!!"

 

The audience sympathizes with Drazon's pain as they begin to wonder if the ankle will suddenly be snapped. However Drazon violently snaps his body in the opposite direction, sending Kibagami into the mat, but Nathan hangs onto the hold and rolls forward!

 

Stevens: "Nathan has that ultra painful anklelock on! A legitimate shootfighting submission. Drazon must be thinknig of every counter possible to this!"

 

Both men roll over, Nathan hanging onto the limb threatening hold. Drazon lands over top of Nathan, sitting on his leg, in perfect position to apply an anklelock to Kibagami at the same time. But Drazon takes the opportunity to smash Kibz in the forehead with a hammer punch!

 

Riley: "Jay Dawg Smash!"

 

Drazon raises his hands in a double axe handle, and brings it smashing down over Kibagami's forehead!

 

Riley: "JAY DAWG SMAAAAAAAAAAAAAASSH!!"

 

Stevens: "He's not the Hulk, Riley."

 

Riley: "Probably as dumb as the green ape."

 

Drazon raises his elbow and hammers it into the forehead of Kibagami. The hold released, Drazon starts to stand, while assisting Kibagami to his feet. Drazon hops on the one leg, shaking away the pain in his ankle before thrusting his forehead forward.

 

CRACK

 

Knocking Kibagami back down onto his ass. Drazon gets a handful of the koolaid hair and pulls him back to his feet. Drazon shakes his leg off before placing his weight onto it, and fires forward with a roundhouse kick straight for Nathan's head! However Nathan catches the leg and wraps his arms around Drazon's upperbody, before throwing Drazon over his head with a Capture suplex! Nathan pops up to his feet, extends his arms out, and twists his neck while stretching his arms, cracking many bones to the applause of the crowd. Nathan rolls back and makes the cover.

 

ONE...

 

 

 

 

 

TWO...

 

 

 

 

THR... Drazon gets a shoulder up!

 

Stevens: "Drazon fought free of the submissions, and started to mount a comeback but was cut short! I wonder if his ankle is feeling alright!"

 

Riley: "Of course it doesn't feel alright! Nathan could have broken it! Hell with Drazon, it might be broken but the man is too stubborn to let anyone know!"

 

Kibagami curses under his breath for a second before pulling Drazon to his feet. He grabs a hold of Drazon's arm and Irish whips him hard into the corner. Letting the turnbuckles rattle his bones, Kibagami charges for Drazon and crushes him into the corner with an avalanche lariat. Drazon staggers out of the turnbuckles for a moment but collapses back into them, resting his arms over the top ropes. Kibagami grabs a hold of Drazon's hair, steps on the bottom rope with his left and leaps into the air, kicking Drazon in the head with a corner high kick!

 

Stevens: "Kibagami is hitting Drazon with much of his artillery! If he can hit one or two of his dangerous suplexes or his finisher now, I'm betting it will keep Drazon down for three!"

 

Drazon rests back in the corner, and Kibagami assists him up to the top rope. Nathan starts to climb up in front of Drazon, standing Drazon up to the top rope, and wraps his arms around his waist. Drazon's head falls back, limp. Only to snap to life and crack Kibagami in the forehead with a headbutt! the blow hits Nathan hard enough that he releases the headlock and begins to timber back, only to grab Drazon by his pants. The leverage of the pantaloons holds Kibagami up on the top rope. Drazon pulls Silent into a front facelock. He looks down at his leg, and shakes his ankle off a bit.

 

Riley: "What does he have in store here!?"

 

Stevens: "I don't know, but the way Drazon is looking back at his ankle, you can bet it won't be nice!"

 

Drazon twists Nathan's neck away for a second, wrenching it good. Jamie follows it up by a vicious snap the other direction, leaping off the top rope, and drives Kibagami into the mat with a super neckbreaker! Nathan instantly rolls onto his chest, his hands behind his neck. He curses and screams in pain while pounding his feet into the mat, trying to shake off that nagging pain. Drazon stands up, his eyes rolled into the back of his head, he growls out loud to a cheer from the crowd. Finally he turns back to the ropes and begins to climb again.

 

Stevens: "OH MY GOD!!! Drazon has just pulverized Kibagami with that vicious neckbreaker! That would take out a normal man, but someone with Nathan's neck history!!!?"

 

Riley: "I love it when that Canadian gets sadistic!"

 

Stevens: "Drazon may have just stepped over the line!"

 

Drazon stands on the top rope, crouching down as he measures the distance from him to Kibagami. He rolls his eyes into the back of his head again to a loud, mixed reaction. Drazon stands tall for the crowd to see and snaps his shoulders, letting them pop into place before diving off the top rope... soaring through the air... extending his arms... falling like a bomb to the prone Kibagami...

 

Stevens: "Oh no!"

 

Riley: "Oh yes!"

 

Drazon crashes into the back of Nathan Kibagami's vulnerable neck with a diving headbutt! Drazon pushes up, looking at the wounded Kibagami but falls back down although with a satisfied look on his face.

 

Stevens: "Drazon has taken a bit of punishment, not to mention his last two offensive moves have taken some out of him!"

 

Riley: "Think about what they took out of Kibagami!"

 

The ref starts to count the two men out. The two men rest, knowing they can recover. However Drazon remembers he has just laid Kibagami out. He must pin him now, there is still time. He crawls forward, inching over, he reaches Kibagami. Drazon takes a breath, letting the sweat beads drop before he shoves Kibagami onto his back and drops onto his chest for the cover. Drazon reaches out his arm and cradles the leg.

 

 

ONE...

 

 

 

 

TWO...

 

 

 

 

 

THRE...NO!!! Kibagami shoots his shoulder up strong, reminding the crowd just how tough he is. Drazon stands to his knees, looking at the ref who reminds him that it is only two. Drazon takes a deep breath and looks down at Nathan. Jamie shakes his head as he grabs a handful of hair. He pulls Nathan to his feet and immediately into a standing headscissors.

 

Stevens: "Drazon must be looking to finish it off with that piledriver! I hope he doesn't cause any major damage to Nathan's neck!"

 

Riley: "I hope he breaks it good enough so that punk never wrestles again!"

 

Drazon tries to lift, but a reluctant Kibagami holds his ground. Knowing the dangerous predicament he is in, Kibagami doesn't even try to stick around, instantly standing up and back body drops Drazon to the mat. Nathan grasps at his neck in pain, but remains standing as he turns to face JD. Inviting an attack, Nathan remains still. The angered Jamie charges forward, and Nathan levels him with a sickening elbow smash!

 

CRACK!

 

Drazon absorbs the blow, taking many steps back but continues to stand. The red in Kibagami's hair seems to shine as he lets out a battlecry. Kibagami charges forward, extending his right arm with the elbow pointing forward...

 

CRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!!!

 

Stevens: "ROLLING ELBOW!!"

 

Drazon falls to the mat, lying limp as Nathan drops to his knees, grabbing the back of his neck as he catches his breath. Finally he lies over top of Drazon, holding both his arms down while covering...

 

Stevens: "That move cost Drazon the ICTV title! Will it get the win for Kibagami!"

 

Riley: "Drazon looks out cold!"

 

 

 

ONE...

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO...

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THRE...NO!! Drazon gets a shoulder up! Kibagami pulls Drazon to his feet, but the groggy hardcore maniac shoves him away.

 

Stevens: "Drazon kicked out of the Rolling elbow and looks to continue fighting!"

 

Kibagami fires a left kick to Drazon's mid-section, but the Maniac catches the blow. Just like Kibagami hoped. Spinning inward, Nathan throws his right leg straight north...

 

CRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCCKKK!!!

 

Stevens: "Or not! The Gamengiri will take all the fight out of anyone!"

 

Drazon's face goes still, the life force knocked out of him. His legs buckle and he drops to his knees, then onto his face. Kibagami rolls him over as the crowd counts along...

 

 

ONE...

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO...

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THREEEEEENO!!! Drazon barely gets a shoulder up. Kibagami looks down in shock, mere inches away from a three count.

 

Stevens: "Oh my god! Drazon is barely hanging on! Silent isn't finished though!"

 

The Slaughterer rubs his neck a bit then pulls Drazon to his feet. The crowd support Kibagami a little more then Drazon as he hammers a forearm into Drazon's forehead. Drazon suddenly snaps awake, and fires an elbow uppercut straight into Nathan's jaw! Kibagami absorbs the blow and hammers Drazon with a shotei to the chest. Drazon spins on impact and Nathan spots the opportunity and pulls Drazon into a full nelson!

 

Stevens: "This oughtta do it!"

 

Nathan squeezes in the full nelson for a second before snapping his legs, arching backward and thrusts Drazon over his head and jackhammers him into the mat with a dragon suplex!

 

"AAARGGGGH!!!"

 

Drazon rolls away as Silent releases the bridge quickly and rolls onto his chest, grabbing the back of his neck once more. rolls back to his feet, letting the glossy eyed feeling he has go away. The advantage is his. The opportunity is now. Drazon stumbles forward and pulls the Slaughterer up off the mat and into a standing headscissors. Drazon powers him up so he is vertical with the mat, jumps in the air, and impales his head into the mat with a spike piledriver! Nathan leaves the mat from the impact and lands on his back, motionless. Drazon rolls over, hooking the leg for the cover...

 

Stevens: "Nathan must have hurt his neck from the dragon suplex! Then Drazon hit that piledriver! Oh lord this can't be good!"

 

 

ONE...

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO...

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THREEEEEEEE!!!

 

Drazon falls off of Kibagami to a mixed reaction, however most of the crowd is now booing the hardcore maniac. Drazon pulls himself to his feet as the ref helps him up.

 

Stevens: "Drazon scores an impressive victory over Nathan Kibagami!"

 

Riley: "That piledriver knocks everyone senseless!"

 

Stevens: "Stay tuned folks! We have more to come!"

 

Riley: "Yeah!"

 

Final shot of JD and Kibagami before commercial

[Guest Suicide King]

We fade back in on Smarkdown and to backstage, where a short man stands behind a podium. His hair is jet-black and slicked back, and he wears a gold sequined suit with a fiery red tie. He smiles widely, revealing thirty-two white teeth as he begins to speak.

 

"Ladies and gentlemen, I'd like to welcome you to the first-ever Quiz show. Let's see if you can figure out what we're doing tonight."

 

We shift to a side-view of the set, so we can see three podiums set up, and a large crowd watching.

 

"I'd like to thank the Studio Audience for coming," Quiz says, "And I'd like to thank the Suicide King for giving us time to do the Quiz show tonight. You may refer to me as Quiz. Now, to introduce our three contestants!"

 

"Introducing first, resident interviewer, Ben Hardy!"

 

We shift to a shot of the crowd, an "APPLAUSE" sign buzzing like mad as the crowd claps uproariously for Hardy, who jogs out, smiling and giving a toolish wave before going to his podium.

 

"And second, the terror of the Smarks Junior Leagues - Cutthroat!"

 

The APPLAUSE sign nearly sparks, as the crowd's clapping gets louder and Cutthroat steps out, foaming from the mouth as he goes to his podium.

 

"And finally, he's a former OAOAST X Champion... theee Superstar!"

 

The APPLAUSE sign turns to a "BOO THE OAT TOAST" sign, as a man in a mask steps out, walking behind a podium. Quiz smiles.

 

"Uh, SS, you have to take the mask off."

 

"Oh, right."

 

The masked SS takes the mask off... revealing Kojack!

 

"Uh, you're not Super... oh, f*** it. Let's just get to the game, shall we? Your six categories for tonight are - Potpourri, Tag Teams, Famous Models, Money, Ethiopian History, and Fans. Ben, you won the coin toss in the back, you can go first."

 

Ben studies the board intently before making his decision. "I'll take famous models for 100, Quiz."

 

"Famous models... this famous model earned an Armageddon parody on the short-lived ABC comedy, Spin City."

 

Kojack buzzes in.

 

"Su... Kojack!"

 

"Who is Marliyn Monroe!"

 

"... I'm sorry, that's incorrect."

 

Ben Hardy buzzes in.

 

"Ben?"

 

"Who is Heidi Klum?"

 

"Correct! I'm sure you set your TiVO to tape that so you could beat off to it later - but instead of detailing that story we'll ask you for your next selection."

 

"I'll take Ethiopian History for 100."

 

"The answer is - this Ethiopian appeared on an episode of South Park."

 

Cutthroat buzzes in.

 

"Cutthroat?"

 

"Cut!"

 

"...I'm sorry, not only is that not in the form of a question, it's wrong."

 

"CUT! THROOOOOAT!"

 

"...I'm sorry, that's not correct either."

 

Hardy buzzes in.

 

"Thank God, Ben?"

 

"Who is Starvin' Marvin?"

 

"Correct! We also would have accepted Who is Cartman's Skinny Black Friend. Pick a category, Ben."

 

"I'll take Tag Teams for 500."

 

"Tag teams for 500 - this tag team is prepared to wreak havoc on the SWF, and will do so come Ground Zero!"

 

The buzzers are silent, and then Kojack rings in.

 

"Kojack!"

 

"Who are the American Wild Side?"

 

"... I'm sorry, that's incorrect."

 

Ben Hardy buzzes in. "Ben?"

 

"Who is Chilly Chilly Bang Bang?"

 

"I'm sorry, that too is incorrect. Cutthroat, do you have an answer?"

 

"CUT!!! and THROOOOAT!"

 

"... I'm sorry, that's incorrect as well. The correct answer is Who is Double Jeopardy... and, well, you'll all find out at Ground Zero. As for the rest of you, it's safe to say none of you deserve the grand prize. Thanks for playing, and we'll make sure you get a copy of our home game."

 

We fade to an extreme close-up of Quiz.

 

"I'd like to thank the Studio Audience for coming out, and stay tuned - you never know when you might see a Quiz show!"

 

We fade out as a female voice-over comes on...

 

"Quiz is always filmed in front of a live studio audience."

 

Fade to a commercial for Beezel-brand condoms...

[Guest Suicide King]

Stevens: "Welcome back ladies and gentlemen to the SWF, once again I am Mark Stevens..."

 

Riley: "And more importantly, I'm Bobby Riley."

 

Stevens: "Not to mention more flamboyant."

 

Riley: "You're just jealous you'll never have my style Mark."

 

Stevens: "Anyway, coming up now we've got an old fashioned grudge match. The Unholy Trinity and the Magnificent Seven haven't exactly been on the best of terms since the word go, with various singles and tag run ins. Well, last time Judge cost Dace the match and the chance to regain his Hardcore Title against CIA."

 

Riley: "Judge was just giving him a helping push. Beside, he has the experience to teach Dace a lesson. I can't believe Dace had the never to call Judge an old man."

 

Stevens: "Either way, Dace stated that he wants to get hold of Judge Mental for some pay back. Dace is after blood, but this is a normal match and he has to remember that."

 

Riley: "All he's got coming to him is an ass kicking, and he's going be in a hell of a lot of pain when this match is over."

 

Funyon: "The following one on one match will be for one fall!"

 

Smoke curls up form the entrance ramp, obscuring it from view as Funyon makes his announcements.

 

Funyon: "Firstly, hailing from Tampa Bay, Florida, at two hundred and fifty four pounds ... representing the Unholy Trinity he is ... DACE 'HORRORCORE' NIGHT!"

 

YYYAAAAAAHHHH!

 

Justifiable Homicide blasts into life from the PA system, as the cloud of smoke flashes with red an purple lights. Slowly it billows away to reveal the figure of Dace Night, as he strides down to the ring. Throwing the horns to the fans, he climbs the apron to survey the crowd.

 

Stepping between the ropes, he flexes his body slowly, showing off his t shirt, adorned with the Unholy Trinity logo and names on the back, and the crucified figure of the M7 on the front.

 

Riley: "How does Dace get away with blasphemy? Wearing a shirt like that to the ring?"

 

Funyon: "And his opponent, from Royal Oak, Michigan, weighing in at two hundred and forty five pounds .. representing the Magnificent Seven .. one half of the SWF Tag Team Champions ... JUDGE MENTAL!"

 

BBBBOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

 

The slow opening rolling beats kick into life as the dim arena is flared by harsh red lights.

 

"NOW TESTIFY!"

 

Testify burst into full swing as three showers of red pyro light up the stage, as Judge Mental makes his way out to the ring. With slow, measured steps, he slowly makes his way towards the ring.

 

The Tag Champ slips under the bottom rope into the ring. Keeping his eyes on Dace, he edges around the ring, taunting to the fans and Dace.

 

Riley: "Judge won't be pleased with that T shirt at all, and after the last time these two faced in a tag match, Mark, I can assure you that Judge is going to take Dace Night out here tonight infront of us all."

 

The two men circle each other in the ring, utter contempt for each other clearly written across their faces, as Soapdish orders them towards each other in the centre of the ring. Dace raises his middle finger to Judge and points to the floor with his other hand.

 

RRRRRAAAAAHHHHH!

 

Stevens: "Dace looks like he plans to piss Judge off as well as get revenge in this one."

 

Soapdish rings the bell, not bothering with trying to separate the two before the match.

 

DING, DING, DING!

 

CRACK!

 

One well time Elbow Smash rings home with the sounding off the bell, as Dace quickly slaps on a Front Facelock, but Judge wraps his arms around Night's midsection and flips him backwards with a Northern Lights Suplex. Dace throws his body off the mat before the ref can make it down to the mat.

 

The pair roll back to their feet, Mental swinging with a right hand, but Dace dives low, slamming the Tag Champ down with a Double Leg. Judge rolls through with the tackle though, and comes out sitting across Horrorcore's back in a Boston Crab.

 

Pushing his body up and his legs back, Dace sends Judge somersaulting off his back to the mat. Bounding the ropes, Dace fires himself off, arm swinging for a Lariat, but the rising Mental half ducks, half bats it away, before twisting on his heel and slamming a Clothesline into Dace.

 

Staggering backwards, the Goth doesn't leave his feet, but Judge follows it right up with a boot to the gut, and turning quickly around, locks his arms around Dace's head, looking for his Surprise Witness.

 

Not to be out reversed, Dace shoves both hands into the Judge's back and sends his across the ring into the ropes. Rushing forwards like a bull, Dace extends his leg for a Yakuza Kick, but Judge uses the ropes to spring off, slipping behind the Goth, and clamps his arms in a Rear Waistlock.

 

Flexing his powerful arms, Dace breaks free of Mental's grasp and swings around in a standing switch, but The Mag Seven member has a surprise waiting, lifting his knee up, he let's Dace drive himself gut first into it.

 

Slapping on a Front Facelock, Judge drops to the mat, spiking Night's head into the canvas with a DDT.

 

RRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

ESS DUB EFF! ESS DUB EFF!

 

Stevens: "My god, what sequence, I won't even being to call that, I couldn't follow all those reversals. But after dodging the Yakuza Kick, and countering a Standing Switch, Judge scores with a DDT on Dace Night! "

 

Riley: "See in the very first attack, Judge proves himself the better fighter, the better wrestler and the better man!"

 

As the Unholy Trinity member rolls off his head, Judge wraps his arms around his throat in a Sleeper Hold, cutting off vital air and blood. Sitting back, Judge takes the extra measure of jamming a knee right into the spine of Dace, as he twists form side to side.

 

Soapdish steps in beside the pair, and asks Dace if he's ok and if he wants to give off. He gets a vocal "Fuck Off" in answer. Grasping at Hearford's wrist, Dace digs his fingers in, trying to get a grip to prise the hold off from around his throat.

 

Stevens: "Judge Mental with a Sleeper locked in, trying to wear Dace down early on, even as Dace attempts to battle out."

 

Riley: "If he makes it, he'll only wish he hadn't later one."

 

Even with his arms wrapped tightly around the Brummie's throat, Judge can't hold up against the strength of Horrorcore, as Dace slams his arms wildly from side to side, hammering the points of his elbows into Judge wherever they happen to land. The grip slackens, and Dace seizes at his chance.

 

Wrenching Judge's arm outwards, Night pushes up on his feet, while rolling to the side in one motion, pulling the Tag Champ down to the mat and slapping on a Fujiwara Armbar.

 

YYYYAAAAAHHHHH!

 

Tucking his legs under his body, Mental rolls forwards out of the hold and back onto his feet, leaving Dace like a fish out of water on the mat.

 

BBBBOOOOO!

 

Surging forwards, Night launches himself across the mat, tackling into the back of Judge's legs, tripping him straight back to the mat. With his arms locked around one of Hearford's legs, Dace rolls to his side, scissoring his legs around Judge's other leg.

 

DACE NIGHT! DACE NIGHT!

 

Stevens: "Dace counters the Sleeper into a Fujiwara, Judge reverse by rolling though, but then Dace tackles him in the back of the leg, and locks on what looks to me a Double Step Over Toe Hold"

 

Riley: "Judge has another counter to his, just you wait Mark."

 

Dace now lays across the small of Judge's back and his upper legs. Night has his legs scissors in a Step Over Toe Hold around one leg, and his arms in a similar fashion around the other leg, trapping and squeezing both legs, while pinning Judge down.

 

The referee slides in beside Judge Mental to check on his condition. The Judge claws at the mat, trying to pull his body and a extra two hundred and fifty pounds towards the ropes, just out of reach.

 

Stevens: "I don't know if Dace is attacking those legs, if it was just a quick counter, or if he's even trying to show he can out wrestle Judge Mental, but right now things look good for him."

 

Riley: "Just give it five minutes Stevens, then mark my words, Dace will be kicking his ass."

 

Judge slowly edges his way towards the ropes as Night clinches in the hold, in an effort to tear back on the knees and lower legs. Judge brings his hand down, just to far, and again, too far. One last time, and he makes the ropes.

 

BBBOOOOOOOOO! JUDGE SUCKS!

 

BREAK!

 

With a grunt of annoyance, Dace release his grip and pushes himself back to his feet. The Mag Seven member has no such respect to wait, and swings out a Right Hand even as his hauls himself up with the ropes.

 

SMACK!

 

But it's blocked by the thick legs of the Goth, as Horrorcore returns the favour with a knee to the gut. Locking his arm around Judge's head, Night sends him overhead with a Snap Suplex. Rolling to his feet, he takes Judge all the way up and over with a Vertical Suplex. One more time, Dace brings Mental all the way up into the air, then dumps him forwards onto his chest and face.

 

YYYYYYYAAAAHHHHH!

 

Stevens: "Snap Suplex, Suplex, Sitout Reverse Suplex combo from Dace."

 

Riley: "How about Snap Suplexing your mouth shut for once Mark?"

 

Flipping Judge over onto his back, Night makes a lateral press for the pin fall.

 

......ONE!

 

 

......TWO!

Kickout!

 

OOOHHHHHHHH!

 

Grabbing Mental by the arm, Dace whips him up from the mat, firing him across the ring. Spreading his arms wide, he catches Judge around the shoulders and legs as his runs back, twisting his body over, slamming Judge Mental to the mat with a Powerslam.

 

......ONE!

 

 

......TWO!

 

Kickout!

 

AAAAAHHHHH!

 

Keeping his hold on Judge, Horrorcore whips him off again, but the Mag Seven member slams on the breaks and pulls Dace in like a hooked fish. Snapping his arms shut around the Goth's waist, The Judge snaps his body backwards, launching Night over head and to the mat with a Belly to Belly Suplex.

 

Stevens: "Powerslam, one, two and a kick out, Dace tries for it again, but Judge reverses and scores with a Belly to Belly."

 

Riley: "Damn, and it hasn't even been five minutes yet. He's good."

 

Rushing back to his feet, Hearford lays into his opponent with lashing boots to the head and chest. Grabbing the top rope, he drops all his body weight with each blow from his boot.

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

THREE!

 

Still Judge pounds away as Soapdish makes his count.

 

FOUR!

 

CRACK!

 

One last huge boot to the chest sends Dace sprawling under the bottom rope and too the outside.

Clutching at his chest, he falls against the security barrier, he tries to regain his composure, but Judge bails out of the ring after him.

 

Soapdish sighs and beings to count both men out.

 

ONE!

 

THUD!

Judge levels a Clothesline into Night's chest, sending him slamming into the harder barrier behind in. Not done there, Judge steps to his side, hooks an arm around the Brummie's head, and hooks his leg, before falling back, with a Russian Leg Sweep into the barrier.

THUD!

 

TWO!

 

THREE!

 

Just to be extra helpful with giving Dace a break, Mental snakes an arm around his head and snaps his body down to the hard floor, sharply introducing Night's head to it with a DDT.

 

Stevens: "DDT on the floor by Judge!"

 

Riley: "Wooo! That's the kind of action I like to see."

 

Stevens: "I thought it was the other kind of action Bobby."

 

RRRRAAAAHHHH!

 

FOUR!

 

FIVE!

 

Rolling back into the ring, Mental leans over the ropes and taunts the dazed Dace to get back into the ring and fight him properly. Dace slowly rolls over and groggily sits up, as the count comes ever closer to ten.

 

SIX!

 

SEVEN!

 

Stevens: "Now Judge is calling Dace a coward. He's go balls saying that."

 

EIGHT!

 

Dace rises to his feet and crawls back under the bottom rope into the ring, saving himself from a Count Out.

 

Wasting no time, Judge hurls himself at Dace Night as he steps through the ropes. Pound away with fists and forearms to the back, Judge forces him back into the corner, and starts unleashing some hard Knife Edge Chops on the Goth's chest.

 

SMACK!

BBBBOOOOOOO!

 

SMACK!

BBBBOOOOOOO!

 

SMACK!

BBBBOOOOOOO!

 

SMACK!

BBBBBOOOOOO!

 

Taking hold of Horrorcore's arm, Hearford pulls it across his chest and traps it under his far arm. With his other arm, he reaches out and hooks it under Dace's shoulder and round to the back of his neck. Jumping from his feet, Judge falls backwards, dragging Dace with him and planting Dace face first into the mat.

 

Stevens: "Closing Arguments, Judge plants Dace with a Reverse Half Nelson Reverse STO."

 

Riley: "Gee, try saying that with a mouthful. Judge in control as ever, what a beautiful site."

 

Sliding over, Judge doubles Night's legs back over his body as he makes the cover.

 

BBBBOOOOOOOO!

 

......ONE!

 

Judge reaches back with his feet and hooks them on the second rope in the corner.

 

......TWO!

 

 

......1/4!

 

 

......1/2!

 

Kickout!

 

YYYAAAAAAAHHHH!

 

Stevens: "Judge had his feet on the ropes, but Dace still kicks out!"

 

Riley: "Damn it, that's meant to get help the right man get the win."

 

Dace lays on the corner, holding his face after the kick out, as Judge drags himself up with the ropes. Never wasting a cheap shoot, Judge stomps a boot into his head.

 

Riley: "Hah! Take that one scarface. Much more of this, and Dace is gonna be wearing a mask. Well, he needs to anyway way. Going with that, he should have been wearing one from the start I think."

 

Looping his arms around Horrorcore's upper legs, the Tag Team Champion links his hand, and stepping forwards, drags Night's legs over his head, rolling him over into a High Angle Boston Crab.

 

JUDGE SUCKS! JUDGE SUCKS!

 

Stevens: "Judge locking on that favoured High Angled Crab, looking for the submission right here."

 

With Judge in the nearest corner, Dace is left with nowhere to reach for. Soapdish drops in beside Dace Night, checking on him, asking if he can carry on, or if he wants to give up. Too add further pressure, Judge steps forwards onto the bottom rope, creating more might and pull on Dace's back and spine.

 

BBBBBOOOOOOOOOOO!

 

Riley: "That's the way William, stick it too him, make him scream!"

 

Judge cranes his head back over his shoulder, keeping an eye on the ref. Even as Soapdish beings to look up, Judge steps down off the bottom rope. As the referee turns back to Dace, Just once more steps up onto the ropes, cracking back on the hold.

 

BBBBBBBOOOOOOOOOOOO!

 

Stevens: "Shameless cheating by Judge Mental to get the advantage and trying to get the win."

 

Soapdish snaps his head up, and sees Judge with his feet on the ropes, before Mental can do anything about it.

 

BREAK!

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

THREE!

 

FOUR!

 

And at the last second Judge releases the hold. Dragging Dace out of the corner, Judge spits on him before pulling him up from the mat. Locking his arms in a Rear Waistlock, the Mag Seven member arches backwards, taking Night over with a German Suplex.

 

Keeping his arms locked, he rolls back to his feet and arches back with another German Suplex. Once more rolling over, Judge snaps himself back with a third German Suplex, clinching into a Bridge for the pinfall as Soapdish drops down to count the fall.

 

......ONE!

 

 

......TWO!

 

 

 

......1/4!

 

 

 

......1/2!

 

 

 

 

......3/4!

 

 

 

 

 

.....Kickout!

 

YYYYYYYYYAAAAHHHHHHH!

 

Even with the jarring force of the kick out, Judge isn't completely shaken off. Rolling over, across the back of Dace, he slaps him around the ears to humiliate and disorientate him.

 

BBBBOOOOOOOO!

 

Stevens: "And Mental score a close two count off the Rolling Germans, then follows it up by boxing the ears, keeping Dace down."

 

Riley: "It's how you keep control and how you win, it's textbook stuff you'd expect from the Judge."

 

Sliding his arms up under the Night's shoulders, Mental locks in a Full Nelson, Judge drags himself up to his feet, setting Dace up for his Full Nelson Suplex. On sure guts Dace slams his elbow down into Judge's arms, and throwing his body around, Dace shoots his arms up into a Full Nelson of his down. Snapping his body backwards with the force of his Germans, Dace drills Judge on his neck.

 

RRRRRAAAAAHHHHHHH!

 

Stevens: "Dragon Suplexah!"

 

Riley: "He's cheating, he's got to be cheating!"

 

Mental and Night collapse on the mat, holding their aching bodies as the referee starts the ten count.

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

THREE!

 

FOUR!

 

STOMP! STOMP! STOMP!

 

FIVE

 

GET UP DACE!

 

SIX!

 

GET UP DACE!

 

SEVEN!

 

GET UP NOW!

 

EIGHT!

 

Like mountains moving, Judge Mental and Dace Night slowly flop over and force themselves up with their arms, shaking and tired, but urging to fight out.

 

YYYAAAAHHHH!

 

Slamming his body forwards, Dace leads elbow first, right into Mental's face.

 

CRACK!

 

CRACK!

 

CRACK!

 

Spinning Judge around with the force of his elbows, Dace snakes a arm through his legs and one around his waist, before pulling Judge up and cover with a Backdrop Suplex, sending him crashing into the mat.

 

Stevens: "Three Elbow Smashes from Dace and ... Bbbaacckkkddrroooppaaahhhh!"

 

Riley: "Jesus Christ Mark, you are NOT Tom Flesher making the money shot on some barely legal Japanese Girl, stop dreaming damn it!"

 

Bouncing off his back and over onto his hands and knees, Judge tries to catch his breath after having his bell rung, but Dace ducks his head between Mental's legs, standing up, he lifts the Tag Champ up in the air, sitting on his shoulder, in the Electric Chair.

 

Throwing his hands up, Horrorcore grabs Mental by the hips and throws him forwards from his shoulders, flipping him over, driving him back first into the ring canvas as Night sits out.

 

YYYYAAAAAHHHHH!

 

Stevens: "Night Driver and Dace makes the cover!"

 

Soapdish dives in and starts the count as the crowd calls along.

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

THR-NNNOOOOO!

 

Riley: "Yes! Judge kicks out, just the way it should be!"

 

Pounding the mat in anger, Dace rises back to his feet, grabs the Mag Seven Judge by the back of his and drags him into a Stand Headscissors. Wrapping his arms around Mental's waist Dace wrenches them up and over head, before sending him driving down into the mat.

 

RRRRRAAAAAAHHHHHH!

 

Stevens: "Powweerrbbbooommmbbbaahhh!"

 

Dace drops down across Judge with a lateral press for a huge cover as the fans roar out the referees count.

 

ONE!

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

THR---NNNNNNNOOOOOOOOO!

 

 

Stevens: "Once again Judge Mental kicks out!"

 

Riley: "Dace isn't going to beat him this time. He can't do it. He's not going to win!"

 

With a growl of rage, Dace drags Judge back to his feet once again and hammers a knee deep into his midsection. Gut Wrenching him up and over, Dace balances him to send Judge spiking head first to the mat just like their last meeting.

 

AAAHHHHHHH!

 

BBBBBOOOOOOOOOO!

 

Judge kicks his legs desperately and dives down Dace's back, hooking his arms and rolling him down into a Backslide in one smooth motion.

 

.......ONE!

 

 

 

......1/4!

 

 

 

......1/2!

 

 

 

......3/4!

 

 

 

 

 

......9/10!

 

 

 

 

 

......THR---NNNNNOOOOOO!

 

Stevens: "Dark Star Driver! No! Judge Reverses! Backslide! No! Dace Kicksout!"

 

Riley: "Just hit him in the damn nuts and roll him up, please just do it!"

 

Clutching his head, trying to shake it out, Mental staggers onto his feet, he shoves the referee out of the way as he tries to check on him. Pulling Night up by his head, Judge jams a knee deep into his groin, out of sight of the ref.

 

BBBBBBBBBOOOOOOOOOOOO!

 

Stevens: "Blatant Low Blow from the Judge!"

 

Riley: "Please, Soapdish didn't see it, so it didn't happen. Got that Mark? Just like the other night with that girl."

 

Judge wraps his arms around Dace's head in a Front Facelock. Dragging him towards the nearest corner, he slings Night's arm over his shoulder.

 

Hauling Dace up with a Suplex, Judge takes a few steps forwards, before crotching Dace on the top rope. Climbing the ropes, he hammers away wit right hands to the head of Dace. Hooking in a Front Facelock, he climbs on the very top rope, bringing Dace up with him.

 

Stevens: "Judge setting Dace up for Superplex."

 

Riley: "This is it, Judge is gonna finish him off with this one. And by god if he doesn't, it won't be much more before the end."

 

Standing up to his full height on the top rope, Mental falls backwards, slamming Night into the right from height up in the air.

 

OOOOHHHHHHH!

 

Keeping his arms firmly locked around Dace's neck, Judge rolls straight over Dace's body and standing up, he pulls Dace up by the Front Facelock. Turning to his side, he has Dace perfectly held for the Surprise Witness, and dives down to the mat.

 

YYYYYYYAAAAAAHHHHH!

 

Stevens: "Dace counters! He grabs the ropes to stay height and dry!"

 

Riley: "Damn it, damn it no!"

 

 

As Mental crashes back first into the mat, Dace pounces on in, wrenching him up back to his feet, driving a knee into his gut. Quickly looping his arms under Judge's, Dace lifts him up and drops backwards, spiking his head into the mat with the High Angle Double Arm DDT.

 

Stevens: "Defenestration! It's over!"

 

Rolling across, Dace hooks Judge Mental's leg for the cover.

 

......ONE!

 

 

......TWO!

 

 

 

 

......1/4!

 

 

 

 

......1/2!

 

 

 

 

 

......3/4!

 

 

 

 

 

......9/10!

 

 

 

 

 

 

......THHRREEE!

 

 

DING! DING! DING!

 

Funyon: "Ladies and Gentlemen, here is your winner ... DAAACCEEE NNNIIIGGGHHHTTT!"

 

Stevens: "And Dace gets his pay back on Judge for costing him the Hardcore Title, but you can be sure this isn't the end of it yet."

 

Riley: "You're damn right it's not, here comes Ejiro Fasaki!"

 

Ejiro dives over the security barrier and into the ring. Even as Dace pulls himself to his feet, Ejiro slides into the ring and hammers a foot into Night's jaw with a Spinning Heel Kick.

 

BBBBBBBOOOOOOOOO!

 

Helping his Tag Partner to his feet, Fasaki turns at puts the boots to the side of Dace's head, as Horrorcore struggles to his feet. Judge calmly steps in and drills the point of his boot right between Dace's legs with a Low Blow.

 

FUCK YOU JUDGE! FUCK YOU EJIRO! FUCK YOU!

 

Stevens: "Justice and Rule are just destroying Dace Night, I guess Judge doesn't take to well to losing. "

 

Riley: "This is pay back Stevens, the same kind you where on about damn it!"

 

Grabbing Dace by the legs, Judge trips him down to the met as Ejiro steps in beside him, ready to set up the Plea Bargain.

 

YYYYYAAAAAAAHHHHH!

 

Stevens: "It's Va'aiga and Danny Williams, Dace's stable mates!"

 

Riley: "What they hell are they doing out here?"

 

Even as Judge crosses Horrorcore's legs, Deathwish and Va'aiga dive into the ring and charge at Justice and Rule. The Tag Champs dive out of the ring, away from the path of the enraged Maori and Danny.

 

Lifting their beat partner up, the Unholy Trinity members stare down out of the ring at the Mag Seven members, exchanging vulgarities at each other. Danny and Va'aiga raise Dace's arms into the air in Victory as Fasaki and Mental head back up the ramp.

 

Stevens: "Well, what's this latest twist going to lead to now? The Unholy Trinity are going to want to get even for this beat down on Dace."

 

Riley: "Please, they'll do something stupid like challenge Justice and Rule to a tag team and get their asses kicked Mark. Try as they might, they're not going to come out on top in this one."

[Guest Suicide King]

SWF Smarkdown returns from a commercial break, but instead of a the Michael Craven VS Longdogger Pete matchup scheduled to happen right about now, we viewers at home are treated to a nice little shot of a pair of generic black wrestling boots. Yes indeed; boots. But the thing about these boots, is that they contain feet, and the thing about these feet is that they’re connected to the slightly bulky yet significantly toned figure of Taylor Nicholas Thompson! The explosive one trudges down an incredibly non-descript hall complete with incredibly non-descript white walls – in his incredibly non-descript black wrestling boots – an intent expression concreted on his face, and his dread-locked brown hair bouncing up and down a bit as he walks. It’s quite clear that he’s ready for tonight’s Main Event, but we can’t quite figure out why the hell the camera is randomly following him around… hey, wait, look at this!

 

“Hey Taylor,” the Boston Strangler says, causing TNT to break stride for a moment – stopping dead in his tracks.

 

Taylor glances reluctantly at the behemoth of a man in front of him for a moment, but not seeing him as any real threat at the moment, decides to be nice and friendly (until it comes time to give him six concussions and a broken nose if necessary tonight, but eh.) “…Hiya TBS… what’re you up to? Ready for the big match tonight?”

 

“Yup, figured I’d hit the weight room for a little light-lifting before the match… you?”

 

“Coming back from some yoga… want to rest up in my room for a bit now, I think. Really want to win this match, if I can.”

 

“Ah… well damn, yoga? I’d say you’re set… but hey, we all want to win, don’t we?”

 

“I suppose… we’ve come a long way since back in the day, when we were all part of the M7…”

 

“…Yeah, evil or not, those were some pretty good times… but that was before…”

 

“Before what?”

 

“…Before Flesher came.”

 

“…Heh, yeah… that damn blubber neck. Not my favorite guy, but hey, I’ve got other things on my mind right now. Danny Williams, the World Title… tonight’s match…”

 

“We all know eachother like the back of our own hands from back then, though. Should be quite interesting to see who’s come the furthest.”

 

Taylor pauses for a moment… as short as this conversation has been, they’ve covered quite a bit, but his mind is still set on the match.

 

“Well, the best man will win,” is all the dynamite warrior says… before adding a quick “…But hey, if you win, I’m not one to be bitter about it. Good luck out there tonight, eh?”

 

TBS smiles – something he hasn’t done in quite a while. “Yeah, same goes to you. See you in a bit.”

 

Taylor steps around the Strangler to continue his mini-trek back to his dressing room, but TBS stops him one more time.

 

“Listen, Taylor… tonight we’re up against eachother… but in the future… if you ever need someone to back you up, know that you can come to me, okay? We’ve got a lot in common, you know.”

 

Taylor turns his head sideways to meet TBS eye-to-eye, and smirks lightheartedly, surprised at the Strangler’s rather warm and friendly nature. “…Sure Strangler. Sure.”

 

With that little blurb out of the way, Taylor steps past the Boston Strangler, and turns around the corner. Strangler starts up to the weight room again, and with that, the two depart… but for how long…?

[Guest Suicide King]

SWF Smarkdown rolls back into Kansas City, Missouri, right into the Kemper Arena, home of... home of... who the hell plays here again? Scanning the venue, several signs are visible, including “King 3:16 says ‘YOU’RE SUSPENDED!’” and “I Came To Harass Bobby Riley”. It finally comes to rest on the (in)famous SWF announcers, sitting as usual at ringside.

 

Stevens: Welcome back to SWF Smarkdown, live from the Kemper Aena in Kansas City, Missouri! Joined as usual by my flamboyant sidekick, Bobby Riley, I’m “Grand Slam” Mark Stevens!

 

Riley: Whoa whoa whoa... sidekick? I think not.

 

Stevens: Bobby, I do most of the talking. Therefore, you’re my “sidekick”, so to speak.

 

Riley: Are you kidding? the people have come to see me!!!! Oh, and the great Tom Flesher, too.

 

The crowd boos at Riley’s comment, throwing garbage in his direction.

 

Stevens: The crowd didn’t like that, Bobby...

 

Riley: Man, it sounds like they got something stuck up their asses... like that time-

 

Stevens: This isn’t the Playgirl Channel, Bobby, so keep it clean. But next up, we’re in for a great match!!! Bobby?

 

Riley: It’s Michael Craven vs. Longdogger Pete, isn’t it? I always get confused by these big cards...

 

Stevens: Yes it is, Bobby. Thanks to a win over Mak Francis, The King of Nightmares is now a 3-time US Champion-

 

Riley: Like Tom Flesher?

 

Stevens: *sigh* Yes. But his opponent is the always-dangerous Longdogger Pete, a savvy veteran with the power of brawn and brains! Whoever wins this match may be in line for a shot at the ICTV Title, as both men have been eagerly awaiting the chance to grab the belt. Who will come out on top? Let’s find out!

 

The lights cut out, the crowd begins to boo like crazy while a cursor pops up on the SmarkTron, which seems to be in DOS mode. Keystrokes can be heard in the background as someone types:

 

C:\>dir/SWF

 

This is followed by the distinctive sound of the Enter key being hit. Popping up is the following short list.

 

Directory of C:\SWF\Superstars

 

TheSuperiorOne.exe

WatchMeExplode.exe

VelvetHammer.exe

OneManWreckingCrew.exe

Franchisable.exe

KingOfNightmares.exe

HighPriestOfHorrorcore.exe

 

The typing continues on as whoever is typing types in:

 

C:\>Run "KingOfNightmares.exe"

 

The typer hits Enter again, but the screen stays, the little cursor beginning to flash brightly and rapidly for several seconds before...

“BOOM!”

 

A huge blast of blue and white pyro kicks up, the smoke lingering on stage for quite some time. Strobe lights pulse to the beat of the guitar and drums in the background as Saliva’s “King of My World” kicks in while the crowd really begins to boo. As the first words kick in, the strobes cut out, a single, blinding light shines from the entryway, piercing through the smoke. The light illuminates the figure of Michael Craven, his body shadowing most of his front side. He stops to look at the fans before he spins around twice, finishing by pointing to himself as the crowd begins to boo louder. Holding his pose for a second, he releases as the chorus ends for the first time, walking down to the ring. The lights are now a deep blue, Craven focused only on the match at this point.

 

Funyon: The following match is scheduled for one-fall! Introducing first, from Tampa, Florida, weighing in at 280 pounds... ladies and gentlemen, he is the SWF US Champion... “The King Of Nightmares”... MICHAEL CRAVENNNNN!!!

 

He enters the ring by hopping over the top rope, landing on his feet. He climbs the turnbuckle closest to the crowd, opening his arms wide and soaking in the crowd’s response, a chorus of heavy boos except for The Craven Section, as a white spotlight shines down upon him, casting shadows across his face. Mike then hops off the turnbuckle and repeats it before he hops down, turning to stare at the entryway.

 

Riley: This is very much so an important match for Craven. He’s been on a small roll as of late, and he’ll need to build momentum if he hopes to win the ICTV Title!

 

Stevens: The same can be said for Pete, who with a win would practically be next in line for a shot at the ICTV Title, something he has wanted for a long time!

 

“OH, MY GOD! INCREDIBLE SUPERSTAR!”

 

A white pyrotechnic explosion erupts across the stage, and the entrance fills with smoke. Pete steps out of the smoke and walks down the ring, slowly and deliberately in tune with his entrance music, "Baseline" by Quarashi, slightly remixed to begin with the chorus and continue with the second verse of the song.

 

“Baseline, baseline

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

Baseline, baseline

Baseline, baseline

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

Baseline, baseline”

 

Funyon: And, from Miami, Florida, weighing in at 277 pounds... LONGDOGGER PETE!!!

 

“Now we’re back in the game

The Quarashi pain it’s plain

I see the suckers fall out and the fuckers call out

Pick me up. But they don’t know what it’s about

I do my shit on the mic and I’m pleasing the crowd

Jump back, get back or else your getting a smack

on your face just like your daddy used to smack you way back in the days

This ain't no silly ass game I’m playing

hear what I’m saying, now start praying”

 

“Baseline” continues to play as Pete enters the ring, the crowd cheers loudly, The Doggah recongnizing the cheers with a wave of the hand to the fans. He turns back around, bumping right into The King of Nightmares himself. Longdogger looks straight into the eyes of Craven, the two staring each other down for a second before Craven’s dimples curl up into a smile.

 

Craven: So we meet yet again, Pete...

 

Craven continues to smile as the referee injects himself between the two men, separating them to give them clear instructions before he sends each man off to his corner of the ring. Pete backs off to his corner, as does Craven, The Gulf Coast Hurricane stretching on the ropes as the referee checks to see if each man’s ready, Pete nodding so first. The crowd is buzzing with excitement as Craven looks up at the ref and nods, finishing his stretches as Referee Matthew Kivell signals to the timekeeper...

 

DING DING DING!!!

 

Stevens: Here we go!!!

 

Pete slowly moves toward Craven as Craven rises to his feet, releasing the ropes, but he suddenly changes pace, charging at Pete, arm extended for a clothesline. He hopes that the change of pace will stun the One Man Wrecking Crew, but Pete easily ducks the blow. Craven stops, turning around into a hard abdominal shot from Pete. Craven cries out as Pete draws his arm back, firing off another hard shot to Craven’s abdomen! Craven staggers back, Pete continuing to pummel Craven’s chest and abs with hard rights and lefts until he backs him into a corner. Once there, Craven continues to feel the pain of a few hard right hands, but Pete casually grabs the middle ropes, and thrusting forward, jams his shoulder into Craven’s torso! The King of Nightmares cries out as Pete pulls out and does this again, starting a rapid succession of shoulder thrusts into Craven’s chest and abdomen. Each one draws a cry from the throat of Michael Craven, Pete releasing the ropes as he finishes up the shoulder thrusts. As Craven staggers forward out of the corner, Pete waistlocks Mike, lifting him up into the air before relasing him in mid-air, Mike flipping over and slamming onto his back via a overhead release belly-to-belly suplex!

 

Stevens: WHOA!! Big belly-to-belly suplex from Longdogger Pete!!! Certainly a move we don’t see him use very often, but when he does, it’s powerful!

 

Mike hits the mat hard on his back and shoulderblades, clutching his spine before Pete drops down on top of him to cover, the ref counting as the fans wait in anticipation...

 

One!!!

 

Tw-Kickout by Craven!

 

Riley: Did he really think that was gonna keep down the US Champion? Maybe he is losing his mind in his old age...

 

Stevens: Bobby, he’s 35.

 

Riley: Well, he’s older than me.

 

Pete and Craven slowly get to their feet, The Doggah gaining a quick advantage with two hard right hands to the forehead. The blows stun Craven for the moment, allowing Pete to grab Craven’s arm and whip him to the ropes. The King of Nightmares hits them, bouncing off them right back towards Pete, where he slams into Pete’s outstretched arm, taken down with a clothesline! Craven hits the mat, slowly getting back up onto his feet, only to be grabbed between the legs, lifted up into the air, and slammed hard onto the mat with a scoop slam! The crowd pops as Pete stomps at Mike, who lies on the mat, trying to block Pete’s blows with his forearms, but Doggah works around them, landing several boots to Craven’s chest. As Craven lies on the mat, Pete drops down, slamming an elbow down into Craven’s chest! The King of Nightmares cries out, Pete hooking Mike’s leg as he covers him for the second time this match, Kivell dropping to count:

 

One!!!

 

Two-Kickout by Craven again!

 

Stevens: The One Man Wrekcing Crew goes to work on that upper body of Michael Craven! He’s just POUNDING away at it!

 

Riley: That’s not the worst pounding I’ve ever seen...

 

Stevens: I can imagine...

 

Riley: No, you idiot. I was referring back to the last match Curtthroat wrestled. Boy, did that guy suck.

 

Pulling Craven to his feet, he grabs him by the arm, but instead of whipping him, he spins around once, twisting Craven’s arm into an arm wrench hold. Craven cires out, tapping his shoulder for a second in pain, but after Pete has had the hold in for a few seconds, Craven spins himself around, grabbing Pete’s arm in the process and reversing into an arm wrench hold of his own! The Doggah is now in pain as Mike smiles, but Craven cannot hold him the arm wrench for long before Pete reverses back into the original arm wrench. Bobby Riley is getting very annoyed at the two as Craven cries out again, but The King of Nightmares cuts the hold work with an abrupt hook kick to the chest, breaking the hold. Pete is stunned for a second, quickly regaining his composure, but Mike catches Pete as he recovers, hooking his arm before he flips him over and arm drags him to the mat! Pete slams into the mat, grabbing his back as he rieses back up onto his feet. As Pete gets to his feet, Craven draws his arm back, hitting The Doggah across the face with a hard left hook! Another hard blow into Pete’s face dazes him, allowing Craven to grab him by the arm and whip him to the ropes! Pete hits them, bouncing right back off. As he flies back at the King of Nightmares, Craven collects him across his chest, then spins and drops to the mat, slamming Pete down with an Irish whip powerslam! Pete cries out as Craven holds on, covering him for another pin-fall attempt!

 

 

One!!!

 

 

Kickout by Pete! The crowd pops loudly for Pete’s kickout, but an angry, determined Craven quickly gets to his feet and peels Pete of the mat, grabbing him by the head and pulling him onto his feet.

 

Stevens: And after a series of holds and reversals, Craven hits a powerslam!

 

Riley: Can we please pick up the pace? I’d like to see something besides rest holds for the next 10 minutes!!! Thank you!!!

 

As the two men rise to their feet, Craven fires off a hard right into Pete’s chest, followed up by a hard left and a subsequent knee thrust before an Irish whip. Longdogger flies to the ropes, bouncing off them and flying back at Craven. Pete leaps into the air, launching himself into a Lou Thesz press, but Craven catches him, spinning and slamming him ruthlessly into the mat with a spinebuster, making sure to plant his shoulder into Pete’s ribs!

 

Riley: Now that’s what I’m talkin’ about!

 

Stevens: What a spinebuster! Craven slams Pete to the mat hard!

 

The King of Nightmares backs off, allowing Pete the room he needs to get to his feet. As Pete gets to his feet, Craven ducks a hard right jab from Pete, slding behind him. Bending over, he sticks his nead between Pete’s legs and lifts him onto his shoulders. The Doggah is essentially unable to do much more than try to punch himself off Craven’s shoulders, and though he tries hard, Craven still manages to drop him, slamming him chest first into the mat with an electric chair drop!

 

Riley: Mercury Rising! Big slam from The Gulf Coast Hurricane! Now this is wrestling!

 

The Doggah hits the mat hard, bouncing off it as he flips onto his back, allowing Craven to conveniently pin him. Kivell drops down to make the count:

 

One!!!

 

 

Two!!!

 

 

Kickout by Pete! Craven looks a little peeved as he grabs Pete, slowly pulling him to his feet, throwing in a knee here and there.

 

Riley: Awww, come on! That was it! He had him!

 

Stevens: Clearly, Bobby, that was only a two-count.

 

Riley: Maybe in Grand Slam World it is, but not in the real world.

 

As Pete is dragged up onto his feet, he gets drilled in the chest with a hard knee, doubling over and remaining there as Craven grabs him around the head, lifintg him up befoe he slams him back into a snap suplex! The Doggah hits the mat, but Craven holds on, rolling over onto his chest and slowly getting to his feet, once there, he lifts Pete up again, but this time, he falls forward, slamming Pete down on his chest with a reverse suplex! The Doggah grabs his ribs and rolls onto his back as Craven releases him, Mike crawling on all fours before he hooks Pete’s leg and covers him for the pinfall attempt:

 

One!!!

 

 

Two!!!

 

 

Pete gets the shoulder up!!! Craven protests to the ref, thinking he had more than that, but Kivell shows only two fingers. The King of Nightmares sighs, slowly pulling up Longdogger Pete.

 

Stevens: Only a two-count for The King of Nightmares! I’m not sure he believes he had him down for only that long!

 

Riley: I think he had him for more than two, and Kivell is looking mighty suspicious...

 

As Craven pulls Longdogger Pete to his feet, The King of Nightmares works over Pete’s ribs with a few hard body blows and knees. Pete grabs his ribs, which are in pain as Craven moves behind him. Craven reaches around Pete's body with one leg so it's around Pete’s side and between his legs, hooking the leg on the same side as his leg. Mike then has a few options on what he can do, but he decides to use both arms to push Pete's head and neck down so he’s stretched across Craven's knee, bending him sideways.

 

Riley: Excellent choice of holds by Craven. This abdomnal stretch is going to KILL Longdogger Pete!

 

Craven continues to lock on the hold, the crowd chanting “LET’S GO PETE!”, even though things do not look good for Pete. Craven, though, has made the mistake of leaving Pete’s left arm free, allowing the Doggah easily to jam his left elbow into Craven’s ribs with as much force as he can muster. The King of Nightmares cries out, releasing the hold and falling back, grabbing his left rib cage in some pain before he gets to his feet.

 

Riley: How’d one stupid elbow break that hold?!?!

 

Stevens: I don’t really know, Bobby, but perhaps Craven got hit in just the right spot on his ribs!

 

As Craven gets to his feet, he furiously staggers over to Pete, grabbing him by the head before he pulls him up onto his feet. He drives a hard knee into Pete’s chest before he grabs his arm and whips him to the ropes. Pete hits them, coming off them at Craven, but The Doggah changes Craven’s plans, ducking over before he tackles Craven into the mat with a spear!

 

Stevens: And a spear from Pete as he goes after that tender spot!

 

Riley: It’s not a tender spot. All Pete did was hit a nerve or something. Craven’s gonna be fine in a few.

 

Both men hit the mat hard, slowly getting back up onto their feet, where Craven is met with the first in a series of hard kicks to his midsection, each one aimed at exploiting the area Pete hit with the elbow. Craven cries in pain with each blow, but Pete ends the kicks by grabbing Craven’s arm and whipping him to the ropes! Craven hits the ropes, flying back off them, and right into a big boot to the face from Longdogger Pete!

 

Stevens: WHAT A BOOT!!! Craven’s got to be out cold after a hit as monstrous as that!

 

Craven hits the mat hard, Pete following up with a quick pin attempt as Kivell counts:

 

One!!!

 

 

Two!!!

 

 

Th-Mike gets the shoulder up!!! The Doggah, though, isn’t fazed by the close call. Instead, pulling Craven up into a sitting position, he grabs him around the head and neck in a sleeper hold!!!

 

Riley: Aww crap! Not this rest hold crap again!!!

 

Stevens: It’s not a rest hold! Pete’s just trying to wear Craven down so he can pin him!!

 

Riley: Bah! Tell it to the smarks.

 

Craven tries to fight out of the move, but his position isn’t the best for him to try and escape the hold. Pete clamps down, keeping Craven down on the mat. Craven looks for the ropes to help him, but he’s too far away from them. They can’t help him this time.

 

Stevens: Craven was looking for the ropes, but he can’t reach out and get them this time! He could be in real trouble!

 

The pain starts to fill Craven’s body. His eyelids shut, his teeth clenching as he tries to fight through the hold. With a free arm, he plants it on the mat and pushes upwards, forcing himself up against Pete’s wishes. Pete attempts to send him back down with a hard twist of his neck, and though Craven drops to a knee for a sec, it's not enough to keep him down. As soon as he gets to his feet, Craven Pete lets out a cry, releasing the hold as Craven runs for the ropes. He hits them, and on the rebound, he leaps into the air, flipping back as he nails Pete in the chest with a missile dropkick! Pete staggers back, hitting the ropes as Craven hits the mat. The ropes bounce Pete forward as Craven slowly rises back up. The King of Nightmares reacts, grabbing Pete by both legs and lifitng him up into the air before he drops back, slamming Pete chest first into the mat with a flap jack!

 

Stevens: HUUUUGE flap jack from Michael Craven, and here’s the cover!

 

 

One!!!

 

 

Two!!!

 

 

Th-Pete gets the shoulder up!!! The crowd pops as he kicks out, but Craven is furious. He expected a three-count for sure that time, but he doesn’t spend much time arguing with the ref as he usually would.

 

Stevens: Craven only getting a two-count after the flap jack, arguing about Kivell’s count.

 

Riley: He has a right to be mad at such bad refereeing like that!

 

Stevens: He’s not perfect, Bobby.

 

Riley: He damn well should be!

 

Pulling Pete onto his feet, he pulls his arm back, smashing Pete in the face with a hard right hook! The Doggah staggers back a little, but not out of Craven’s reach, The King of Nightmares connecting with a second hard right hook. then, channeling The Rock, he brings his right hand up, turning to face it, and spits on it, quickly turning back before he swings at Pete with a huge slap to the face! Pete, though ducks the swipe, and reacting quickly, fires off a hard right into the left side of Craven’s rib cage! Craven cries out like Ivan Drago taking those blows to the ribs in Rocky IV as Pete, like Rocky Balboa, slams Craven hard with another blow to his ribs! The crowd goes nuts as Craven staggers back, grabbing his ribs as he cries out in pain, but Pete grabs him by the head, and clenching his other hand, begins to pound away at Craven’s forehead with multiple right overhand punches, the crowd once more cheering loudly for Pete. The blows stun Craven for the moment, allowing Pete to grab Craven’s arm and whip him to the ropes. The King of Nightmares hits them, bouncing off them right back towards Pete, where he slams into Pete’s outstretched arm, taken down with a clothesline!

 

Stevens: Longdogger Pete battling back strongly here with right hands and a clothesline, knocking The King of Nightmares off his feet!

 

Craven tries to get to his feet, but Pete is on a roll, and grabbing Craven from behind, he lifts him up, slamming him down on his neck with a German suplex! Craven’s fun ride isn’t over, though, as Pete rolls over, slowly lifting Mike up before he drops him back again with another German! Craven is helpless as Pete pulls him back up, lifting him up again before he hits one final German suplex, bridging into a pin as Craven’s shoulders land on the mat!

 

 

One!!!

 

 

Two!!!

 

 

THRE-kickout barely by Craven! Pete is in shock that he didn’t get Craven, asking the ref about any possible slow counts, but the ref holds up two fingers.

 

Stevens: Longdogger Pete with multiple Germans, but he only gets a two count, and he looks a bit concerned that he got screwed!

 

Riley: He didn’t get screwed. He’s a whiny-baby.

 

Stevens: A bit hypocritical, aren’t we, Mr. Riley?

 

Craven is pulled to his feet by Pete, who hands out several more hard right overhand punches before he grbs Craven by the arm once again and whips him to the ropes. Craven hits them, flying back at Pete, who jumps into the air, colliding with Craven as he hits him with a Lou thesz Press!!! Craven is slammed down to the canvas hard, and he stays down as Pete slowly gets to his feet, his ribs still sore. The Doggah scurries for the ropes, bouncing off them, and flying back at Craven, he leaps into the air, dropping his leg across the chest of Michael Craven with a loud slam!

 

Stevens: A Lou Thesz press, followed by a mega-sized leg drop from Longdogger Pete! He’s certainly taking it to The King of Nightmares now! Craven might be done! And here’s a pin attempt!

 

 

One!

 

 

 

 

 

 

Two!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THREE!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

NO!!! CRAVEN BARELY KICKS OUT OF THE PIN!!! The crowd absolutely goes nuts, booing Kivell as he holds up two fingers, followed up by a “KIVELL SUCKS!” chant from the cheap seats. Pete rolls off Craven, both men slwoly pushing themselves to their feet, but Pete doing so faster than Craven.

 

Stevens: I DON’T BELIEVE IT!!! CRAVEN SOMEHOW KICKED OUT!!!! I THOUGHT THAT COULD HAVE BEEN IT!!! How could he kick out of such punishment from Pete?!?!

 

Riley: Because he doesn’t want to be beaten by Pete. For one of these men to beat the other is about pride, and these two have been at it since their JL days!

 

Stevens: I’ve got to think, though, that Pete’s set on finishing off Michael Craven right now, and perhaps we’ll see the Longdogger Clogger coming up shortly.

 

As he gets to his feet, Pete screams at Craven, motioning at him to get up. The Gulf Coast Hurricane turns, staggering towards the waiting Pete, and the instant he gets within range, Longdoger Pete promptly kicks him in the gut and hooks his arms as Craven bends over.

 

Stevens: LONGDOGGER CLOGGER!!! THIS IS IT!!! PETE’S GOT HIM RIGHT WHERE HE WANTS HIM!!!

 

However, as Pete goes to lift Craven, The King of Nightmares digs his feet in and pushes off the mat, throwing Pete back and preventing him from hitting the DDT! Pete backpedals to remian up-right, but Craven runs slowly, eventually forcing Pete back into the corner! He slams hard into the turnbuckle, Craven’s shoulder jamming into Pete’s ribs. The Doggah yelps in pain, releasing the double arm hook on Craven as he grabs his ribs!

 

Stevens: What the hell?!?!

 

Riley: Craven countered the double arm hook by pushing Pete into the corner and thus slamming his shoulder into Pete’s ribs! He knew what was coming because he’s familiar with the move!

 

Craven drops down as Pete grabs his ribs, staggering out of the corner. Pushing himself up onto his knees, he grabs Pete around the ankles with his own ankles as the crowd boos, witnessing a Michael Craven drop toe hold!!! Pete’s face and chest slap off the mat, The Doggah grabbing it as he rolls onto his back.

 

Riley: Drop toe hold? Well, I guess it’s keeping him down...

 

With Pete laid out on the mat, Craven wastes no time as he gets onto his feet, staggering slowly forward to the nearest turnbuckle and slowly climbing up it. Once up there, he turns around, and after steadying himself, leaps off. There is no delay today as he flips the full 360-odd degrees, legs whipping around, ankles tucked under his thighs like he was praying as he smashes into Pete with tremendous force, nailing a Shooting Star Knee Drop into Pete’s ribs! The resulting blow lets out a thunderous thud!

 

Stevens: NO!!! GOD NO!!!

 

Riley: YES!!! THAT’S IT!!! THE KINGDOM COME!!!

 

Upon impact, Craven bounces off Pete, flipping over him and landing on the mat, but he slowly flips himself over and crawls on top of Pete, hooking the champ’s leg with quite possibly the last of his energy. The ref, watching the match closely, begins the count as the crowd starts to boo, the Craven Section counting along...

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

ONE!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THREE!!!

 

 

 

 

DING DING DING!!!!

 

Funyon: The winner of this contest by pinfall... MICHAEL CRAVEN!!!

 

“King Of My World” kicks up, Craven trying to pump a fist into the air in celebration, but he doesn’t have the energy to at this point. The Craven Section cheers loudly for their hero as he lies on the mat, the rest of the crowd booing.

 

Stevens: Michael Craven with a hard-fought victory against Longdogger Pete, but I don’t expect the One Man Wrecking Crew to be down for long! Craven had better watch out, because Pete is one tough cookie to crack!

 

Riley: I never understood that saying. How can you crack a cookie? It’s not like it’s made of glass... but what if it IS made of glass? Then maybe...

 

Stevens: *sigh* Can we just go to commercial?

[Guest Suicide King]

The Kemper Arena rocks back and forth with excitement, still juiced up from a tantalizing matchup between Michael Craven and Long Dogger Pete. Signs litter the arena as the camera pans left and right, focusing in on some more amusing signs such as: "I'm a lot like you, too!", "Why, Johnny? Why?", and of course "FROST IS PARTY!". The camera cuts to the announce table, where "Grand Slam" Mark Stevens sits with his color commentator, Bobby Riley.

 

 

"Welcome back to S! W! F! SMARKDOWN!" shills Stevens, "We've just had a hell of a card for you so far, but the best, as they say, is yet to come! Later, in out Main Event tonight, we'll find out just who thinks they have the gumption to face our new World Champion, Thoth."

 

"Gumption?" asks Riley, "Like they'll be giving each other chocolates, saying stupid phrases that don't make sense, and combining shrimp with beef stew?"

 

"..."

 

"What?"

 

"But FIRST," says Stevens, wisely avoiding his partner's remarks, "We'll see the first defense of the new ICTV champion, Stryke, as he takes on the man who beat Janus last week for this shot: Beezel!"

 

"That's right Mark," says Riley, "The Scarlet Pumpernickle got lucky again and earned a shot for the gold now held by Stryke. But we all know he'll fail in the end, and drop to a superior talent if there's any justice in the world."

 

 

"Time will tell, however Funyon's getting prepared so lets get ready for more SWF Action!"

 

The immaculatly dressed ring announcer bring his microphone to his lips.

 

"Ladies and Gentlemen, this match," starts Funyon, "Set for one fall, is for the SWF INTERCONTINENTAL CHAMPIONSHIP!"

 

 

Cause I can't even look in your eyes

Without shakin'

And I ain't fakin'

I'LL BRING HOME THE TURKEY IF YOU BRING HOME THE BACON!

 

*BOOM*

 

Red pyro explode from the top of the entrance ramp and disappear just as quick. In the smoke left behind, El Scorcho stands with microphone in hand.

 

 

"Introducing the challenger," announces Funyon, "From Phoenix, Arizona and weighing in at two hundred five pounds. He is the masked man of mystery.... BEEEEEEEEEZEEEEEEEEEL!"

 

As Beezel walks down the ramp, he sings along with the chorus to "El Scorcho" by Weezer as the crowd follows along...

 

I'm a lot like you, so please... hello? I'm here, I'm waaaaaaaitiiiiiing!

I think I'd be good for you, and you would be good for me!

 

"Beezel and the champion Stryke have no previous bouts... that we know of," notes Stevens, "Considering no one has YET to figure out who he is, he may well have fought Stryke tens of hundreds of times without our knowledge. And more importantly, to Stryke's knowledge."

 

"I think all this intrigue and mystery should be removed along with that mask by our wrestling God, Suicide King," complains Riley, "It's an unfair advantage for every opponent this twit faces to have to second guess just how much he might know. For all we know he could be one of Stryke's old JL running mates. Who knows?"

 

Suddenly, the lights go out as LL Cool J’s “Mama Said Knock You Out” starts up. As the lyrics begin, a huge wall of blue and silver pyro sprays up all across the stage, the lights returning on the ramp to reveal Stryke standing at the top of the stage with the Intercontinental Championship around his waist. Blue and white spotlights dance over the stands as Stryke is greeted with a hostile response from the crowd, but Stryke pays little attention to the boos raining down on him as he quickly moves to the ring.

 

"And now, the champion," says Funyon, raising his voice to be heard over the wall of boos, "From Sydney, Australia and weighing in at two hundred nineteen pounds; he is the CURRENT Intercontinental Television champion.... STRRRRRRRRRYKE!"

 

Stryke quickly slides into the ring, moving to the nearest corner and hopping up onto the 2nd turnbuckle, raising his arm to the crowd with an arrogant smirk on his face. The champion then drops back to the ring and concentrates on the match at hand.

 

DING DING DING

 

 

Stryke moves forward and locks up Beezel in the center of the ring, wasting no time to shove his knee deep into the masked man's gut. El Scorcho groans and doubles over from the pain. Stryke attempts to land a second but the mystery man pushes away from the aussie and rolls to safety. Beezel kips up to his feet in time to avoid a low chop to the ribs, only to be blindsided by a clothesline!

 

"The champion did his homework," notes Mark, "He saw El Scorcho's fight with Janus and knows that those ribs have to still be sore after what the Hell Machine landed on him."

 

"You assume that Stryke wouldn't watch a #1 contender match for his own belt?" asks Riley, "Don't degrade the guy just because he's Australian!"

 

"What does that mean?" asks Stevens.

 

"Oh nothing, aussie hater," rebuts Riley.

 

Stryke drops to his knees and punches Beezel about the face with abandon. The official gets in the aussie's face and yells at him to stop. Stryke ignores the warning, forcing the referee to begin a count to five...

 

 

"ONE!"

 

"TWO!"

 

"THREE!"

 

"FOUR!"

 

 

Just before the ref can count to five, Stryke keeps the fist up that he was about to drill into El Scorcho's skull. Pulling the masked man up by the back of the head, Stryke takes the opportunity to throw Beezel to the ropes. Catching El Scorcho on his return, the aussie uses his opponent's momentum against him by twirling his entire body in mid air and dropping him with a CRACK onto his knee! The masked man arcs his back and screams out as his body gets bent in half. Dropping his foe off his knee, Stryke hooks Beezel's leg as Kivell drops for the count...

 

 

 

ONE! TWO! KICKOUT!

 

 

"Even with the soreness added, it would take a LOT more for Stryke to keep Beezel down this early," says Stevens.

 

"You think he can't handle this, don't you?" asks Riley.

 

"He beat Danny Williams for the title, I know he must be good."

 

The aussie pulls El Scorcho up to his feet, but the masked man barely makes it up to being doubled over. Sensing a weakness, the Champion lands a european uppercut and drives his foe up to a standing position. Stryke throws a right hook towards Beezel's ribs but the masked man moves out of the way. Stryke throws a left hook to the ribs but the challenger again moves out of the way. Frustrated, the champion lunges forward and grabs the lighter man by the head, forcing him down into a front face lock. The australian then drops back and DRIVES Beezel's head into the canvas! The speed of the attack forces El Scorcho's body to rise straight up before falling backfirst to the canvas. Stryke covers his foe with just two hands on his chest as Kivell drops for a count...

 

 

ONE! TWO! KICKOUT!

 

"Look at how cocky Stryke is!" exclaims Stevens.

 

"I don't see it, Mark," says Riley, "I think you just have it in for Australians."

 

"Where the hell are you getting this, Bobby?"

 

"Simple, you're against Stryke in this match, you were against both Stryke AND Janus last week..."

 

"Stryke is callous and cocky! Janus is a mental patient from hell! It has NOTHING to do with where they come from!" exclaims Stevens.

 

The champion stares at the referee but realizes he can do nothing about the two count. He decides to take out his frustration on the challenger. Lifting Beezel up to his feet, Stryke allows El Scorcho to stand in the center of the ring as he runs to the ropes. Still dazed, the challenger moves on instinct, ducking low as Stryke comes at him and jumps over him. Relying on instinct rather than his suddenly clouded mind, the challenger shifts to the side and attacks the nearest moving thing with a Superkick! Not expecting a counter, Stryke is more surprised than hurt as the superkick hits him full on the shoulder. The suddenly midair champion lands awkwardly on the same shoulder, causing a small pop to occur from within his arm.

 

"It looks like Beezel's a bit out of it right now," says Mark, "He normally goes straight for the chin with that kick. I wonder how much that DDT took out of him."

 

Beezel loses his balance after the blow and drops to the mat. He shakes his head vigorously in an attempt to remove the cobwebs occupying his mind. Not completely successful, the challenger decides to go on the attack anyway, concious enough to see his opponent on the mat in pain. Floating over, the challenger grasps Stryke's stinging arm by the wrist and yanks it HARD towards the sky. The champion roars in pain as Beezel drives the hurting arm upwards a second time.

 

"Smart move from the challenger, going right after where your opponent got hurt. But I would be concerned if you're El Scorcho," says Stevens, "For a martial arts expert like him, falling down after a kick would be a huge red flag."

 

"Hmph, it's all about the American isn't it?" asks Riley, "NO concern for the aussie, the CHAMPION may I remind you, who might have just put his own shoulder out of whack? No concern at all, you're just digging your own grave."

 

"You're the one who will be digging a grave if you continue with this insanity..."

 

Keeping Stryke's wrist firmly in his hand, El Scorcho walks backwards towards the corner of the ring. feeling himself move and not willing to go along with whatever his foe has in mind, the champion stumbles and trips his way up to his feet. With his free hand, Stryke attempts to land a jab to the face but the masked man ducks under the blow. With new leverage, Beezel continues the motion and twists Stryke's arm up and over his head. New pain surges through the champion's arm as Beezel backs up to the turnbuckles. El Scorcho allows some slack in Stryke's arm before YANKING it towards himself. The shock brings the Australian down to one knee and scrabbling for an escape.

 

"The champion is REALLY hurting and it shows," notes Stevens, "After his match with Danny, it would have to be a lot more than a simple arm jerk to bring Stryke down to one knee."

 

"Sometimes when I use my arm to jerk, it drops me down, but it's not..."

 

"All right, that's enough out of you."

 

Stryke throws a hard punch up to his opponent's ribs but again the lighter man dodges the blow. The champion attempts a second shot, but Beezel hops upwards and sits himself on the top rope for safety. Pulling hard on his foe's wrist, El Scorcho climbs up to the top rope and turns to his right. The masked man nearly stumbles for a split second, feeling his mind dull to near nothingness before returning to normal. Checking his balance for good measure, the masked man walks to the center of the top rope.

 

"I don't know if this is wise, El Scorcho visibly stumbled there, I don't know if his head's cleared up," notes Mark.

 

"Let him fall, better him land on his head and die in the ring then to let him walk away with such a prestigious title around his scrawny waist," seethes Riley.

 

Staring down at his wincing opponent, Beezel takes his free hand and places the edge of it in front of his face. El Scorcho lowers it to his stomach in prayer before leaping off the top rope and somersaulting in the air. Stryke's wrist still in his hand, Beezel comes out of the somersault by locking his feet around the champion's shoulder. Suddenly burdened with two hundred extra pounds on one side, Stryke has no recourse but to roll with the challenger, landing flat on this back with his arm being pried away from the rest of his body!

 

"MINORU SPECIAL~!" screams Mark, "Prayer Walk to Minoru Special and Stryke is in a WORLD of hurt now!"

 

"But look Mark! He's close to the ropes, the champ can get out of it!" yells Riley.

 

 

The champion screams out in rage and pain as his shoulder feels pressure from two opposite sides. Kivell drops to the mat to count for a pin but Stryke realizes his free shoulder is down and raises it immediatly. Beezel wastes no time to add as much pressure as possible, feeling his mind clear more and more as time passes. Stryke moves his head in awkward directions, frantically looking for an escape from the debilitating submission hold. To his right, some ropes shine like a beacon of light to the australian. He shoots his arm out, hoping to grasp onto the ropes and end the pain but his escape is just an inch away from reach! He streches... streches... but Stryke drops his arm in frustration. However, he is forced to raise it again as Kivell pounds the mat for a one count. The official asks for the champion's submission but Stryke yells "NO!" back in his face. Once more, the australian reaches out for salvation, feeling the ropes just mere millimeters from his grasp. Beezel catches his opponent's attempts and redoubles his efforts. The extra pain surges throughout his body, weakening his will and dropping the free arm back to the mat. Another slap to the mat from Kivell reminds Stryke to keep his arm up off the mat.

 

"The champion is SO CLOSE, but El Scorcho keeps pouring on the pressure," says Stevens.

 

"He can make it, I know he can! We need someone like him to represent our company!" exclaims Riley.

 

The champion makes a third lunge for the ropes, feeling the cable faintly touch his fingertips. Going purely on willpower, Stryke takes one last shot for freedom... and grasps the bottom rope with his free hand! Kivell taps Beezel on the shoulder and the challenger complies, immediatly releasing the champion from the jujigatame.

 

"YES!" yells Riley.

 

"Stryke looked ready to pack it in, but he found the ropes in a last ditch effort. Close call for the champion," notes Stevens.

 

"So now all Australians are quitters? Are you TRYING to commit ratings suicide over there?" asks Riley.

 

Stryke channels his adrenaline and pushes himself upwards to a standing position just as Beezel rolls back up to his feet. El Scorcho rushes in with a shotei towards the shoulder, but the aussie ducks out of the way. Feeling the need for revenge, the champion lashes out with his arm and LARIATS Beezel out of nowhere! The force from the strike drops the challenger onto the back of his head before Stryke drops down to his knees, the rush of adrenaline leaving his body as fast as it came.

 

"What a VICIOUS clothesline from the champion!" exclaims Stevens, "Beezel's head bounced off the mat like a basketball from that hit!"

 

Weakly, the champion drapes his good arm over El Scorcho's. Kivell drops to make the count...

 

ONE! TWO! KICKOUT!

 

"But NO! El Scorcho finds the strength to kick out!"

 

The champion holds his injured arm and looks down at his opponent. Hope that the challenger might have a concussion drives him upward, grabbing El Scorcho's hair in the process. Stryke ignores the referee's warning, standing erect with a doubled over Beezel in front of him. Pulling the challenger up by his head, the aussie drives forearm after forearm into the back of his opponent's head. Stryke then side steps and stands behind his victim, throwing his weak arm around the masked man's chin and using his strong one to brace it there. Holding the arm flush against his opponent's head, Stryke squeezes for all he's worth.

 

"Sleeper from the champ, a surprise submission," notes Mark, "Stryke is known for his high flying, even more than Beezel, so this comes to a bit of a surprise to me."

 

Beezel's arms flail around wildly, looking for a quick escape before his mind even realizes he needs one. The masked man's pinky catches a bit of cable and the rest of his hand follows, grasping the rope as fast as possible. The champion feels Kivell tap for a break and the champion complies... but dropping down and DRILLING the challenger's head into the mat with a Sleeper Hold Drop!

 

"But THAT doesn't, another NASTY blow to the challenger's head! Will Stryke go for the cover?" asks Stevens.

 

Beezel lies deathly still in the middle of the ring. His chest barely rises and falls with breath. Sensing victory, the champion grabs one of El Scorcho's legs and drags it towards him, moving Beezel parallel to the ropes. Scrambling to his feet, Stryke then runs behind him, rebounding off the ropes at full speed. Reaching the challenger, Stryke leaps over his body and lands with both feet on the middle rope. The aussie then springboards off and arcs back, gracefully moonsaulting backwards and landing with a SPLASH onto Beezel! Stryke uses his good arm to hook a leg as Kivell drops for the count...

 

 

ONE! TWO! KICKOUT!

 

 

"AAAAUGH!" yells Riley.

 

"SO close for Stryke there!" exclaims Stevens, "Even the crowd thought it was over there. Still, the champion has this match firmly in his grasp."

 

"So you finally submit to the superiority of Stryke and AUSTRALIA!?!?!?" asks Riley.

 

"Bobby, you aren't Australian! You're American! What is your deal???" screams Stevens.

 

"...good point."

 

Stryke slaps the mat in frustration and screams in the referee's face. Matthew Kivell flinches but responds with a two fingers to the champion. Standing up, Stryke stomps at the challengers head once, twice, three times before turning to his left and looking at the turnbuckles. He raises one arm up to the sky, ignoring the rain of boos the crowd throws at him. With a stare of intense determination, Stryke rushes to the corner and begins to climb.

 

"Yeeeahaaas! I smell a Frog Splash finisher, Mark!" says Riley.

 

"So does the crowd, and Beezel still isn't moving a muscle! This could spell bad times for the challenger," notes Stevens.

 

 

The champion looks down at his fallen enemy. Certain that his opponent isn't playing possum, Stryke bends at the knees and launches himself off the top rope. While in mid air, the aussie crunches his body up into a ball and then releases just before impact... with El Scorcho's feet! The challenger balled his body up and shot both feet straight up, landing a glancing blow on the champion's side. Knocked off course, Stryke spins wildly in the air before landing right on his hurt shoulder. The aussie feels a crunching from within himself and what was a dull throbbing pain becomes a sharp, intense, mind blowing pain. A pain that is not helped as the challenger kips up and grabs the hurt arm...

 

"What a counter!" says Stevens, "Whether he was playing possum or just came to at the right time, Beezel has a chance! Will he be able to take advantage though?"

 

 

El Scorcho yanks upwards, forcing Stryke to either rise or risk more injury. Slowly, the champion rises to one knee. Seeing his opponent's movements as too slow, the masked man tugs again. The champion rises to his feet with speed, throwing a wild punch that gets easily sidestepped by the challenger. Beezel pulls hard on the hurt arm, this time whipping Stryke towards the turnbuckles. Not done with his opponent yet, the challenger puts on the brakes and yanks at the arm instead of releasing, dropping Stryke to one knee.

 

"OW!" exclaims Riley.

 

"The crowd felt that one!" yells Stevens, "I would be surprised if Stryke had any strengrh in his arm left after that attack!"

 

 

Beezel viciously pulls on the arm, dragging the aussie back up to his feet. Pulling with all his strength, El Scorcho irish whips the champion in the other direction, this time releasing and allowing Stryke to rush face first into the near turnbuckles. The champion bounces off the corner like a pinball, staggering and tripping backwards... right into the awaiting hands of Beezel! The challenger snakes one arm up around Stryke's chin and the other through the champion's hurt arm. El Scorcho drives both arms towards each other, tightening the hammer lock and crossface until both hands meet... and lock!

 

"Crossface Chickenwing from the challenger, who seems to really want to make the champion tap tonight," notes Mark.

 

"Stryke isn't a flake like the Pumpernickle here," rebuts Riley, "If there's anything you will NOT see, it's Stryke tapping out."

 

 

Taking deep breaths to steady himself, Beezel takes the unexpected route and lifts the champion into the air. Dropping back, the challenger lands in a bridge as Stryke gets SPIKED headfirst into the canvas!

 

"HOLY S***!" scream both Riley and Stevens.

 

"WHAT THE HELL DO YOU CALL THAT?" asks Riley.

 

"I don't know! Who do I look like, Dace Night?" asks Stevens.

 

Still holding the crossface chickenwing, El Scorcho pushes off with his feet just as Kivell attempts a pin count. With his captor flipping over him, Stryke's body drops flush facefirst to the canvas as Beezel lands straddling his back. Rolling with the momentum, the challenger pulls up on the crossface chickenwing, driving the aussie's torso up with it. Now crouched on his feet, El Scorcho slides his elbows onto his knees, cinching in the Crossface Chickenwing Clutch!

 

"TRIPLE C!" exclaims Stevens, "TRIPLE C from Beezel, and you have to wonder what moves this guy DOESN'T know!"

 

"Isn't that the move that Carnie bitch used to use?" asks Riley.

 

"One and the same, again showing some old Carnie ties, I have to admit I love watching this guy!" gushes Mark.

 

Stryke's free arm shoots out and up, not allowing the referee to assume he is submitting. Flailing both his arms and legs around, the champion searches for ropes but comes up empty on all counts. Stryke's face slowly turns to a light shade of crimson. Kivell asks for submission but the champion mumbles out a denial. His vision blurs from the pain of his arm being bent into a pretzel and the lack of oxygen reaching his brain. El Scorcho rocks backwards, forcing more air out of the champion's lungs. Stryke stretches his legs backward as far as they can go but still feels no cable touch him, no ropes in reach.

 

"Middle of the ring, no escape," notes Stevens, "We may find out how right Riley is about Stryke. I don't see any possible way out of this, do you Bobby?"

 

"Certainly! Thumb to the eye, biting the arm, punching the ref and getting a DQ," counts Riley, "There's still options available."

 

"...I meant LEGAL ways, Bobby. Legal."

 

"Oh."

 

 

The champion's face turns redder and redder as the force of his opponent's weight being pressed against him blocks air from entering his lungs. Beezel squeezes his arms together, applying more pressure to the shoulder and neck of Stryke. The aussie's hurt arm gets bent in an unnatural angle, the pain becoming unbearable for him. Kivell asks for a submission but no answer can escape the champion's lips. His eyes close as his vision no longer works, and his free arm goes limp. With no recourse, the official lifts the limp arm up in the air and drops it....

 

 

"ONE!"

 

"He won't tap! See!" yells Riley.

 

"Yes, but he may still submit, if he can't keep away from the three count..."

 

 

The crowd picks up with excitement as Stryke's arm gets raised a second time. Kivell drops it, waiting for it to hit the mat before reacting....

 

 

"TWO!"

 

 

"Just one more! One more drop and we have a NEW Champion!" exclaims Stevens.

 

"Come on Stryke... keep that arm up!" yells Riley.

 

 

The tension inside the arena becomes palpable as Kivell raises the arm for a third time. Even the official takes in a breath and holds it, releasing the arm from his hand and watching it drop...

 

 

 

 

drop....

 

 

 

 

drop....

 

 

 

 

 

 

...and hit the mat.

 

 

 

 

DING DING DING

 

 

"IT'S OVER! NEW CHAMPION!" screams Mark.

 

Listening to Cho-Cho san

Fall in love all over again!

 

"Your winner," announces Funyon, " By submission at fourteen minutes and three seconds... And NEEEEEEEEW! INTERCONTINENTAL TELEVISION CHAMPION.... BEEEEEEEEEEEZEEEEEEEEEL!"

 

Kivell taps Beezel on the shoulder, who promptly releases the awkward submission hold. The official walks over to the timekeeper, having to yell for the belt in order to be heard over the deafening cheers. Grabbing the belt from the timekeeper, Matthew Kivell hands the Intercontinental Television title to El Scorcho as the crowd sings along with the chorus:

 

IIII'M A LOOOOT LIKE YOU! SO PLEASE, HELLO? I'M HERE I'M WAAAAAAAAAAITIIIIIING!

IIII THINK IIII'D BE GOOOOOOD FOR YOU, AND YOU! WOULD BE GOOOOOOOD FOR ME!

 

 

Beezel promptly rolls out of the ring and hefts the belt on high for all the fans to see.

 

"Second time is the charm for El Scorcho, picking up a HUGE win tonight over Stryke," says Stevens.

 

"This, is the worst. match. ever. Beezel is fired!" seethes Riley.

 

"Bobby, you can't fire people," notes Mark.

 

"I can in my mind!" says Riley, putting two fingers to each temple and closing his eyes in concentration. Mark visibly scoots his seat two inches away from Bobby.

 

"Well... upstairs is telling me that we need to pay the bills, but stay tuned! For more S! W! F! Smarkdown!"

 

 

Cut to the new ICTV champion, holding the belt high as he walks up the entrance ramp. Just as he turns around to face the audience... we fade.

[Guest Suicide King]

The sold-out Kemper Arena in Kansas City, Missouri is alive and rocking one last time as SWF SmarkDown! returns from its final commercial break of the evening. A “THOTH ROCKS MY SOCKS!” sign appears on the SmarkTron™ as Grand Slam and Riley are ready to bring the action back into millions of living rooms across the globe.

 

“Welcome back, and thank you for watching SWF SmarkDown! With Bobby Riley, this is Mark Stevens, and we have had QUITE a night so far, haven’t we, Bobby?” Riley scoffs as Stevens looks confused. “How can you say that any night is great when Tom Flesher is no longer our champion? The only man in this federation fit to carry that belt has fallen…although Thoth is far from the worst person to lose it to.”

 

“Riley, get over it already! Tom’s gotten over it faster than you have!” snaps Stevens as Riley gazes fondly at a picture of Flesher, SWF Championship slung over his shoulder. “Tonight, four men who have been hanging around the main event, and men who have ALL had shots at Tom Flesher’s title within the last 60 days, will get a chance to put themselves in position for a run at the title. Thoth needs a challenger, and King is looking for one of these men to step up to challenge him.”

 

“But these guys are all scum!” whines Riley. “Let’s break ‘em down. You have TNT…”

 

“He’s a former SWF Champion himself, as well as a fellow Clusterfuck winner, Riley!”

 

“…but TNT’s also a crazy nutjob! And he ended Tod deKindes’ career at 13th Hour! Does he deserve to be REWARDED for that? Then, we have FROST. This guy blows more than a Vietnamese prostitue! Why does he deserve ANOTHER shot at the SWF Title?”

 

“He’s one of the best there is, Riley! Frost has two of the most impressive tag team reigns in this great federation’s history!”

 

“Then let him stick around in the tag ranks, Stevens! Next up is the Boston Strangler!”

 

“Strangler beat Flesher last month…”

 

“…via COUNTOUT…”

 

“That’s just because Tom Flesher’s a spineless little punk!”

 

“…and then Flesher beat him cleanly at 13th Hour! Strangler hasn’t earned his shot at Thoth either! Finally, we have Danny Williams, who had potential, but seperated from Tom Flesher! Now, he’s just another midcarder! He lost the ICTV Title to STRYKE! STRYKE! You lose to someone who makes a VERY recent comeback, and get moved UP a division? C’mon, Stevens!” Riley crosses his arms and looks very pleased with himself. “None of these men deserve a shot at that SWF Title!”

 

“Well, there’s no title shot guaranteed here, Riley, so shut up already. I think you’ve wasted more than enough time, so we’re gonna take this right down to Funyon, who’s waiting in the middle of the ring to get this match started!”

 

“Ladies and Gentlemen, it is now time for tonight’s MAIN EVENT!” crows Funyon to a small pop. “Tonight’s main event is a four corners match! Two men will be in the ring at all times, and they must tag in and out! The other two men not in the match must wait to be tagged in! The first man to score a pinfall or submission wins!”

 

The crowd applauds, then burst into cheers as “WATCH ME EXPLOOOOOOOODE!” hits over the PA system. “TNT” continues to blare throughout the arena as Taylor Nicholas Thompson walks out onto the stage to a huge ovation from the crowd. “Listen to the fans, Riley! They’re going nuts for TNT!” remarks Stevens, with a cheesy grin plastered on his face. “Yeah, well, I think the fans ARE nuts. You’d have to be to live in a craphole like Kansas City.”

 

“Introducing first, from Anaheim, California, weighing in at 266 pounds, he is Taylor Nicholas Thompson, TEEEE-NNNNNN-TEEEEEEEE!”

 

Thompson slides into the ring and climbs onto the turnbuckle, raising his arms. However, “TNT” cuts out and is replaced by the opening chords of “Godzilla”. The fans respond with a refreshed burst of cheers as the Boston Strangler appears onstage, emerging through a massive wall of white pyro. “STRANGLER” is displayed in big white letters on the SmarkTron™ as Strangler raises a fist into the air, then starts his way down the ramp.

 

“Next, from Boston, Massachusetts, weighing in at 303 pounds, he is TBS, the BOSTON…..STRRRRRRRRRANGLER!”

 

“Stevens, whaddaya think the relationship is between TNT and Strangler?”

 

“Riley, although I’m sure you’ll be disappointed by this news, I don’t think they’re like…that.”

 

“Shove it, Stevens. You know what I mean. TNT was backstage with Strangler tonight, and the two of them were acting VERY friendly with each other…DON’T SAY IT, STEVENS!” Grand Slam stiffles a chuckle as Riley glares over at his commentary partner. “Riley, you do make an interesting point here. There’s a LOT of history in this match. Chilly Chilly Bang Bang, the long-time history between TNT and Danny Williams, and the current situation with Strangler and Thompson. It should be interesting to see how these men get along in the ring tonight when they try and tag in and out.”

 

Strangler rolls into the ring, which immediately cues up “Jester Dance” by In Flames. Strangler and Thompson look at each other briefly, exchanging a knowing glance before turning and watching Danny Williams emerge to another huge round of applause. A “DAN-E! DAN-E!” chant breaks out, drawing a slight grin from the normally emotionless Williams, before Danny begins to walk briskly towards the ring, with business on his mind.

 

“Next up, from Louisville, Kentucky, weighing in at 243 pounds, he is the leader of the Unholy Trinity, he is “DEATHWISH”…DANNY…WILLLLLLLLLLLLIAMS!”

 

“Riley, I had one other thing on my mind regarding this match. Strangler, Frost, Danny, and TNT are four very proud men, and they don’t like to admit weakness. I look at Strangler and Frost in particular, and I have to wonder if these guys will ever be willing to make a tag in this match.” Williams slides into the ring and trades looks with Strangler and TNT, who regard Williams coolly. “Stevens, I get the feeling that these four ignorant sluts aren’t gonna do each other any favors.”

 

As Williams slips into the ring, “Snowblind” by Black Sabbath kicks up over the arena PA as the final of four competitors makes his way down to the ring. Frost emerges from a storm of fake snow, looking more intimidating than ever as he stalks down the ramp. The crowd goes nuts for Frost as well, although the crowd seems somewhat weary after five straight minutes of cheering.

 

“And the final competitor, from Reykjavik, Iceland, weighing in at 296 pounds, he is the Velvet Hammer, FRRRRRRROST!”

 

“One other thing to consider here, Riley. The crowd support should be sharply divided between these four men, as all of them are crowd favorites. I’m interested to see who the crowd sides with here.” Riley scoffs. “These people will just cheer everything that happens. They’re just as ignorant as the people competing here tonight. Makes me wonder why we don’t go somewhere where the fans have half a brain.” “Like Indiana, Riley?”

 

“Shove it, Mark” snaps Riley as Frost climbs into the ring and immediately walks over to TNT. He cuts in front of Strangler, who has a miffed expression on his face, and starts talking strategy with TNT. TNT looks reluctant, and glances over at Strangler with a trapped expression on his face. Strangler taps Frost on the shoulder, but as the Velvet Hammer spins around, Danny Williams drills Strangler squarely in the back of the skull with a jumping elbow smash. Strangler manages to stay on his feet, but goes crashing forward into Frost, taking the big man down to the mat. TNT gets caught in the shuffle and hits the canvas as well. The ring shakes from the nearly 900 pounds of wrestler hitting the mat as Danny Williams, the smallest man in the ring, looks down triumphantly at his three larger opponents. “Size doesn’t matter, Mark! And remember, no FUCKING JOKES!” Danny grabs Strangler, who seems the least entangled of the three, and pulls him up into a standing position after a few quick stomps.

 

Danny Williams grabs Strangler by the shirt and backs the dazed giant into an empty corner. Frost and TNT head to opposite corners as Danny starts slamming elbows into Strangler’s upper chest. Strangler recoils backwards after every vicious shot from Williams, who is all business as usual. Williams continues with the elbows as TNT and Frost look on, waiting for the opportunity to strike. Williams connects with one last elbow, sending Strangler slumping down into the corner. He walks over to TNT and reaches out to make the tag. Thompson outstretches his hand, but Williams pulls his back before hurtling a brutal elbow at his head. TNT goes crashing back to the ground below where he hits the ground hard, holding his temple.

 

“Williams is a deceitful little bastard, Stevens! He’s finally showing something he learned from Tom Flesher all those months ago!” crows Riley. Williams goes over to do the same to Frost, but the Scandinavian giant is ready, and nearly takes Danny’s head off with a brutal clothesline from the apron. “That version of the Hell Freezes Over might have taken Danny Williams right out of this one, Riley! And here comes Strangler, looking for the early pinfall!” Strangler crawls over and hooks Williams’ leg as Mark Hebner drops into position to make the count.

 

 

 

ONE!!!!!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

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

 

 

 

 

 

TH…..

 

 

 

“Hey! Hebner stopped counting! What gives, ref?” asks Stevens. “PLEASE don’t tell me Hebner’s gone the way of Eddy Long!”

 

“Oh, stop whining, you overdramatic old fart. Hebner made the right call! Frost just tagged himself in for the Boston Strangler! He was able to reach over and slap Strangler, putting him into the match!” Frost waltzes into the ring and grabs ahold of Danny Williams as Strangler looks on incredulously at Frost. The Velvet Hammer ignores Strangler, instead concentrating on Williams. Strangler begins to charge Frost from behind, but Hebner steps in between the two men, and forces Strangler back to his corner. Frost hardly notices the commotion as he grabs Williams and whips him towards the rope. Williams comes flying back and immediately gets leveled by a spinebuster. Williams drops to the mat, but starts to pull himself up by the ropes. Frost charges towards Danny, but Williams ducks and pulls the ropes down. Frost, obviously caught off-guard, goes tumbling over the top rope to the outside, where he lands in a very ungraceful position against the crowd barrier.

 

“I get the feeling Frosty isn’t used to flying, Stevens” remarks Riley. “Williams had a nice desperation maneuver there, Riley. Control is up for grabs right now, as both men are somewhat off their game. We’ll see who manages to take control back.” Williams pulls himself up to a standing position, and notes Frost’s position on the outside. He quickly gauges his position, then launches himself backwards. He bounces off the ropes, but goes screeching to a halt as Strangler knees him in the back. Williams turns and throws an elbow that Strangler easily ducks. Strangler slaps his hand around Williams’ throat, and signals for the Plunge as the crowd goes wild. “This could be a huge move right here! I dunno how Strangler wants to do it, but a chokeslam of any kind should be enough to take Williams right out of this one!” Before Strangler can finish off Williams, a recovered Frost goes crashing into Danny and Strangler. Strangler falls off the apron and hits his head on the guardrail as Danny gets hung up on the ropes before crashing back onto the ring canvas.

 

“Looks like Strangler’s the one who’s flying now! He didn’t look any better than Frost did either!” Strangler starts to push himself up as TNT, the only person not to get into the match yet, stands there looking on at the clusterfuck going on in the ring. Meanwhile, Frost backs Danny into a corner and starts hammering away with his Hands of Stone. Danny rocks backwards from the blows until Strangler, still on the outside, reaches into the ring and trips Frost, taking the giant’s leg out from under him. Frost falls back to the canvas as Danny hangs back in the turnbuckle, regaining his composure. Strangler hops up onto the corner and reaches to tag himself in, but Danny dodges Strangler’s tag and moves away from the corner. He reaches back and drags Frost’s body out of Strangler’s reach as well, leaving the Bostonian alone in his corner.

 

“Williams wants to stay in this match, and he narrowly avoids Strangler. But now, the Bostonian is isolated in his corner, and Danny has Frost isolated in the middle of the ring. Danny is RIGHT where he wants to be, Riley.” Williams drops down to the canvas and applies a side armbar, wrenching back on Frost’s shoulder. The Velvet Hammer tries to struggle away, but Williams locks the armbar on even tighter and sits himself squarely in the middle of the ring. Frost looks around, then starts a crawl for the ropes. He begins dragging Williams with him as Danny keeps the armbar applied, and acts as an anchor, keeping Frost stopped as much as possible. Frost looks up, and sees the ropes just inches away. He prepares to lunge for them, but his concentration is broken by a hand flashing in front of him. He looks over and sees TNT’s outstretched arm just a few inches away as well. He shuts his eyes in pain, then reaches out and slaps TNT’s hand.

 

TNT rushes into the ring and kicks Danny squarely in the hand. Williams had failed to see the tag, and gets thrown backwards a solid three feet as Thompson stands there, looking excited to finally be in the match. The crowd is cheering, although the cheers are less enthusiastic than usual, as Thompson charges a barely-standing Danny and takes him down with a hard shoulder block. “The crowd doesn’t know who to cheer for with all those ‘crowd favorites’ in there, Stevens. At least I know who I’M cheering for: NOBODY!” Danny gets up, and walks straight into TNT, who applies a front facelock before delivering a dead-on snap suplex to Danny. Williams’ body slams into the canvas with a huge amount of force, and Thompson floats over into a pinfall.

 

 

 

ONE!!!

 

 

 

 

TWO!!!!!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THRE…..

 

 

“And Williams kicks out! Thompson needs to work a little bit harder to take down as tough a competitor as Danny Williams!” Williams starts to force himself up, stumbling towards the ropes in Frost’s corner. Frost reaches out, looking for the tag from Danny, but TNT grabs Williams and whips him into the ropes. Danny comes charging back towards TNT, who delivers a big boot to Williams. He drops to the mat, and TNT immediately scrambles up the nearest neutral turnbuckle, taking dead aim at Danny. He leaps through the air and extends himself, going for a flying headbutt. TNT goes crashing down and connects with Danny’s shoulder. The impact sends Danny into convulsions as TNT rolls onto his side, in a good deal of pain. “End it now, TNT! Get the pin!” screams Stevens as Riley watches in mock amusement.

 

Thompson looks over, but instead of going for the pinfall, he gets to his feet instead. He bends down and picks up Danny, and sets him up for the Mushroom Cloud. TNT braces himself, then lifts Williams into the air. He gets Danny all the way up, but Danny uses his momentum to sit up and deliver a brutally stiff elbow to Thompson’s jaw. TNT wavers backwards and drops Danny into a heap on the canvas as he falls backwards, crashing to the mat. “Great reversal by Williams!” comments Stevens as Danny crawls over to TNT and makes the cover.

 

 

 

ONE!!!!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!!!!!!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THREE…

 

 

 

“No! TNT kicks out, despite that brutal shot!” TNT is barely moving now, however, as Danny slowly pushes himself up to his feet. “Riley, despite the initial concerns that Frost and Strangler would be unwilling to leave the match, it turns out to be Danny Williams who won’t get out of that ring! He’s been going the entire match so far!” Riley smirks as Danny walks over to TNT and starts to pull Thompson’s body, which is dead weight, up to its feet. “I knew Williams was gonna do this. You were the only one who believed any of that junk you were rattling on about earlier, Stevens.”

 

Danny grabs TNT from behind and locks on an abdominal stretch, pulling TNT’s arm way back as he applies a facelock. Thompson struggles to free himself from the submission as Danny locks it on tightly and refuses to let go. TNT looks around desperately for a way to escape. Frost holds out his hand, as does TBS, but Danny has him centered in the middle of the ring, and there’s no way for TNT to get to either man. Finally, Thompson pushes off and falls straight backwards. He lands on top of Danny, whose grip weakens but remains applied. Thompson struggles to free himself again, but the grip remains tight. Finally, TNT manages to wriggle his right arm free. He immediately lunges out and wraps his fingers around the bottom rope, drawing a five count from Hebner. Williams immediately releases the hold and backs off, looking for a new plan of attack.

 

“TNT managed to escape that one, Stevens, but he’s still in a lot of trouble. If Tom Flesher were here, this match would be long over, of course. He’s proven he can beat everyone in this ring without breaking a sweat!” Riley’s words are ignored by Stevens as Danny walks over and grabs ahold of TNT’s arm. He whips Thompson towards the ropes in Strangler’s corner. Strangler reaches out and just narrowly avoids tagging himself in as Thompson bounces off and returns to Williams. Williams goes for a big boot of his own, but TNT catches it. The surprised Danny is caught off-guard, and TNT responds by pushing Danny off the side, sending him spinning around 180 degrees. Danny has no chance to react before TNT locks on a rear waistlock and throws Danny over his head with a German suplex. The crowd cheers on TNT and Danny as both men lie in the middle of the ring, motionless.

 

“It looks like TNT really needs out of this match, Riley” remarks Stevens. “It looks like Danny might have done some damage with that abdominal stretch, as he’s holding his side very gingerly. He’s gonna need to get someone in there ASAP.” “Well, it looks like Frost is sensing the same thing, as he’s making it VERY clear to TNT that he wants into this match!” Stevens looks out over the ring, and notes, “Well, Frost isn’t the only one! TNT’s new friend Strangler seems to want into this one as well!”

 

TNT looks up off the canvas, with his right hand still plastered to his sore ribs, and looks over to both corners. He looks at Strangler’s outstretched arm, then looks over to Frost, who has one foot up on the second turnbuckle, with an urgent look in his eye. TNT hesitates, then hears a noise coming from behind him as Danny Williams, who has still not tagged out of the match, starting to get to his feet. TNT finally decides, and starts to crawl toward Strangler’s corner. An incensed Frost curses under his breath at TNT as Thompson crawls closer and closer towards Strangler as Danny finally notices his enemy’s position. He starts to stagger towards TNT, but as he does, TNT’s hand slaps Strangler’s. Strangler goes charging into the ring and LEVELS Danny with a spear. Williams and Strangler both go tumbling head-over-heels from the impact all the way across the ring into Frost’s corner. The irate Icelandic giant looks down and tags Danny Williams on the head before climbing into the ring.

 

“Here we go, folks! A real battle of the titans right here!” crows Stevens as Frost slams a right fist into Strangler’s jaw with every ounce of strength in his 296-pound body. Strangler shudders, but stands his ground and counters with a huge right hook of his own, using his entire 303-pound body for leverage. Frost also manages to stand his ground, and the two men stare each other down. “It’s like something out of Gorillas in the Mist” mutters Riley as the two giants continue their staredown. Suddenly, both men snap their frozen poses and launch forward with a series of hard right hands. Frost manages to take the upper hand, and picks Strangler up for a scoop slam. Strangler struggles, but gets slammed to the mat by Frost anyways. The ring shakes as Strangler’s massive frame connects with the canvas.

 

“Not all that often you see Strangler get tossed around like that, Riley” remarks Stevens. “Well, perhaps not, but I see him get BEATEN pretty often. Like at 13th Hour, by a man I like to call Tom Flesher…” Strangler is back to his feet, but Frost is opening up on Strangler again with his Hands of Stone. The fans are electric for the confrontation between the two men as Frost dominates the offense, with Strangler managing to sneak in a few shots. Finally, Strangler takes control back, and lunges forward with a clothesline. Frost ducks the attempt, and when Strangler turns around, he levels TBS with a brutal heart punch. Strangler drops to the mat, clutching his chest in pain, as Frost points to the crowd, signaling for the Early Winter, which sends them into hysterics.

 

“Time for this one to END, Stevens! Looks like Frost is the unworthy monkey who gets to win this one!” Frost steps up to Strangler and roughly pulls him into a double underhook position. Frost starts to lift Strangler, but Strangler remains rooted to the ground. Frost tries again, but with no success. Frost tries a third time, but with the same result. Strangler lifts himself up, and Frost goes flying over his head to the canvas. Strangler, with an angry glare in his eyes, raises one arm, signaling for the Boston Massacre. The fans pop for his finisher attempt as well as Frost steps to his feet. “Here we go, Stevens. Let’s see if Strangler is the ugly, odorous moron who gets to ‘win’ this match!”

 

Strangler kicks Frost in the gut as the Velvet Hammer turns around. Strangler immediately lifts him into a gorilla press slam position. He holds Frost above his head, with his arms quivering slightly under the massive weight of Frost, as flashbulbs explode throughout the arena. “Strangler might be ready, but so are Danny and TNT! They’re coming in here to make sure Strangler doesn’t have the chance to finish it off!” Sure as Riley says, Danny goes charging towards Strangler and Frost as TNT enters the ring as well. TNT hesitates for just a moment, then charges forwards as well. However, he runs past Strangler and levels Danny Williams with a running tackle. Strangler looks on, somewhat in disbelief, as the crowd pops louder than it has for the rest of the match at the unexpected decision by TNT.

 

“What the hell is Thompson doing? I mean, I know I call them stupid and everything, but TNT is just trying to give me MORE ammo here!” Strangler finally remembers Frost, and drops him onto his shoulders as he drops to the canvas, delivering the Boston Massacre to another huge pop. Strangler rolls over and covers Frost, with his eyes watching TNT the whole way.

 

 

 

ONE!!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!!!!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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

 

 

 

DING DING DING!

 

 

“Your winner, by pinfall, he is the BOSTON…..STRRRRRRRRRRRRANGLER!”

 

 

“Stevens, what just happened there? Thompson could have stopped Strangler from hitting the Massacre and winning the match! Instead, he helps Strangler out by taking down Danny! It just doesn’t make any sense to me!”

 

“Riley, it doesn’t make a ton of sense to me either. However, I get the feeling that there could be more to this relationship between Strangler and TNT than meets the eye! TNT did choose to tag Strangler over his long-time friend Frost there in the match, which came as a huge surprise to everyone, including, I think, Strangler and Frost themselves.”

 

“Well, whatever. Strangler’s not going anywhere. He couldn’t beat Tom, he needed help to beat those guys, and he’ll need help to beat Craven when he’s curtain-jerking next show!”

 

“That’s one way to look at it, Riley. But whatever may be, the Boston Strangler is our winner in tonight’s main event! Alongside Bobby Riley, I’m ‘Grand Slam’ Mark Stevens! Please tune in Friday for SWF Storm! Goodnight, and Todd bless you!”

 

The camera fades out on Strangler walking down the aisle, with his eyes locked firmly on TNT in the middle of the ring. Strangler’s somewhat-suspicious eyes meeting TNT’s hopeful look is the last image the cameras pick as they fade to black.

 

SWF SMARKDOWN

White Apple Productions©

July 7, 2003

[Guest Suicide King]

A good show, although far too many no-shows. card forthcoming.