Smarkdown Losing Matches

[Guest Powerplay]

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

 

The opening set of pyros goes off one more time as the Staples Center crowd begins get riled up, awaiting the first match of the night! The camera gives a long pan across the arena showing literally an ocean of heads and signs like “Lets go to Mexico and have an International Incident!” “Riddle me this, Riddle me that, who the hell is in the ??? Match?”, and “Early Winter? How bout a Sacred Summer!” before the production crew cuts down to the announcers table.

 

“And welcome to another edition of SWF Smarkdown! I’m Grand Slam Mark Stevens and this”- Our friendly giant of an announcer motions his hand to the much smaller man next to him- “is Bobbie Riley. Our first matchup tonight is a real doozy. We have Former Tag Champion versus Current Tag champ. Former Hardcore Gamer’s Champion versus Current Hardcore Gamer’s Champion. Experienced Veteran vs Rising Rookie. This match should be a great one.”

 

“Yes, and you know why? Because the Judge, William Hearford, is going to demolish this pretender. The man has forgotten more about wrestling than Va’aiga can even remember.”

 

“… Remember about wrestling?”

 

“No, just remember in general. The guy is a gorilla, Grand Slam, his mind just isn’t developed enough to take in that much… Which is why he makes a perfect Hardcore Gamer’s Champion.”

 

“I don’t think so, Bobbie. Va’aiga isn’t your standard power wrestler. Va’aiga knows a fair amount of Submissions himself, and with his power those submissions are damn near inescapable. Personally, I think he has the endurance, the power, and the heart to beat the veteran tonight.”

 

With that last comment, Funyon enters the ring to a small pop as he raises the mic up to his mouth.

 

*DING DING DING*

 

“The following match is scheduled for ONE FALL! Disqualifications and Count outs are in effect.”

 

The lights go down, turning the arena a deep red as a faint but steady drumbeat travels over the arena. It builds up, crescendoing and crescendoing as a few of the crowd start booing. The sound reaches a peak, and the roll ends-

 

“NOW TESTIFY!”

 

BOOM!

 

BOOM!

 

BOOM!

 

Three rows of red pyros shoot off into the air as Rage Against the Machine’s “Testify” fires up in mid song as Justice steps out onto the stage, looking pumped for the match. He walks down with his purposeful gait, as Funyon’s booming voice is heard over the music.

 

“Now entering the ring, weighing in at 242 pounds and hailing from Royal Oak, Michigan… He is one half of Justice and Rule and a member of the Magnificent 7… THE JUDGE WILLIAM HEAAAAARFOOOOOOOORD!”

 

The old man slides into the ring, immediately springing up to his feet and walking over to his corner to begin stretching out, and the crowd even boos that. The veteran doesn’t seem to mind, though, as he continues to go through his final preparations before the match.

 

Once again, the arena goes to darkness, but this time a silhouette of a massive man on the entrance ramp. The man’s head is covered with the hood of his warm-up suit, but the crowd already knows who it is, and begins to pop while the bassline to Method Man’s “Bring the Pain” starts up. The man begins going down to the ring, shadowboxing as red strobes begin going off and the SmarkTron comes alive as it shows the darkened man begins taking practice jabs at the air, cut by grainy pictures of some of his biggest hits…

 

*RIGHT JAB*

 

Maori Drop on Thor…

 

*RIGHT JAB*

 

Staring down with Janus…

 

*LEFT JAB*

 

Chairshot on Spike Jenkins…

 

*LEFT HOOK*

 

Super Maori Drop on Crow…

 

*RIGHT HOOK*

 

Chokeslam Maori Drop on CIA…

 

*UPPERCUT*

 

Decapitator on Ejiro…

 

“Now entering the ring, weighing in at 285 pounds and hailing from Rotorua, Aotearoa… he is the Hardcore Gamer’s Champion AND One half of the Tag Team Champions… VAAAAAAAAAAINGGGGGGGGGGGUH!!!”

 

The man reaches the ring as the music dies down, the crowd cheering as loud as they can for the big Maori Badass as he leaps up to the apron and steps into the ring, throwing off his training jacket off to the crowd. The Staples Center is going wild as the big man yells out “MY HOUSE!”, starting up a small “HIS HOUSE! HIS HOUSE! HIS HOUSE! HIS HOUSE!”

 

“In only about a month’s time this man has been able to capture two pieces of gold and become one of the crowd favorites. It’s amazing how successful Va’aiga has been as of late.”

 

“Well, that’s going to stop tonight. Hearford has been out for blood ever since he lost that tag title, and Va’aiga better watch out or he’ll find his ass trapped in a bone-breaking submission like that.” says Bobbie, snapping his fingers at the end for emphasis as the big man puts down both of his belts on the metal steps and turns towards his opponent, motioning with his hand for the old man to bring it on.

 

*DING DING DING*

 

The bell rings, and Va’aiga starts off running at Hearford, immediately bails the ring. Stopping before he hits the turnbuckle, Va’aiga begins shouting at the old man to get back in the ring.

 

“COME ON YOU F**KING COWARD! GET BACK IN THE F**CKING RING! COME ON!”

 

Hearford just watches him, though, not even thinking about getting back into the ring with that madman ready to pound him right as he takes a step on the canvas. The double champ continues to shout his anger at Hearford as Kivell begins his count. Of course, Va’aiga can’t stand someone trying to get out of an assbeating. To the crowd’s delight and Hearford’s dismay, the Maori Badass steps through the ring and gives chase as the old man tries to get away. Some cheer and others laugh Justice flees away from the wrecking machine around the ring before the old man finally slides back in. He turns around as the big man slides in shortly thereafter, getting back up to his feet… but not quickly enough as Hearford catches him on his knees with a lariat! Hearford turns around, holding his arms up after outsmarting the big man…

 

WHAM!

 

And finds himself on the ground after taking a shoulder block from the big man!

 

“Hearford was a little bit too confident there,” notes Grand Slam, “One Lariat won’t even take phase Va’aiga.”

 

Va’aiga quickly reaches down, yanking him up by one arm. Before Justice realizes it Va’aiga scoops him right up, pulling him into the air and plants him down right on his back. As Hearford arches his back in pain, Va’aiga turns to the crowd, yelling a giant “BOO-YAH!” to the smiling fans as they yell their approval. Once again, he yanks the Judge up, but this time the old man pulls his arm out of the Maori’s grip, instead taking him down with a two-legged takedown. Both men fall to the mat, and the Judge tries to maneuver around for maybe a legbar or something, but Va’aiga kicks his legs and arms at the old man, effectively warding him off for the moment.

 

“Nice job by Va’aiga there,” says Mark as the Judge rolls up to his feet, “He has to make sure the Judge can’t keep him on the ground.”

 

“Bah. All he did was flop around. He can’t keep that up forever; sooner or later he’s gonna get stuck on the canvas, and the Judge will be there to pounce on him.”

 

Justice is up first, but Va’aiga isn’t far behind. The Judge waits as Maori Badass looks at him for a moment before charging forwards and locking up. The big man pushes the Judge back easily, but Hearford is able to pull his right side away, using the free arm to help pull the Maori’s other arm into a wristlock. As the giant bends over to take some pressure off the arm, the Judge goes to work, laying elbows into Va’aiga’s shoulder. The man refuses to go down as his shoulder is pounded with elbow after elbow, and using his power he begins to reverse the lock. The Judge tries to stop it, but there’s no way he is going to beat the Unholy Trinity enforcer in a duel of strength. Va’aiga takes control of the hold as the Judge tries to move towards the ropes, but the Maori Badass frees up his closer arm to wrap around Justice’s face. Before the Judge can even react they both are taken down to the mat with an Inveted DDT! After watching some of Va’aiga’s matches the Judge knows what is coming next, and he again makes a break for the ropes, but Va’aiga doesn’t let him get any closer as he wraps his legs around his waist for a body scissors!

 

“Pacific Stretch! Pacific Stretch!” cries Grand Slam, “One of the Maori’s trademark submissions! This match may be over before it even started!”

 

“No! Hearford got close enough to the ropes while in the wristlock! He can get it!”

 

The Judge yells out in pain from the vicious submission, reaching out with his arm and leg for the ropes, desperately trying to get there… but he just can’t seem to get it. The crowd begins chanting as Va’aiga puts more power into the hold, causing the Judge to yell even louder. He stretches his leg again as far as he can… and he gets his foot on the bottom rope! The crowd gives a sigh as Kivell starts a 5 count.

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

THREE!

 

FOUR!

 

FI-And at that, Va’aiga releases the hold, leaving Hearford to roll out of the ring to catch his breath and recover.

 

“Well, we are still pretty early in this match and already the hotshot rookie Va’aiga is dominating,” remarks Stevens with a chuckle, “I guess it’s out with the old and in with the new, eh?”

 

“… Your sense of humor is almost as corny as your homestate, Grand Spam.”

 

The Judge reaches his feet slowly as Kivell begins yet another countout, and Va’aiga doesn’t intend to give Justice much rest as he slides out of the ring with him.

 

ONE!

 

The Judge tries to get away like before, but he hasn’t recovered enough from the Pacific Stretch to get far as Va’aiga catches him with a hard left hand. He stumbles into the barrier and latches onto it as the Maori follows, nailing him with a few hard kicks….

 

TWO!

 

The crowd around them is now going crazy, cheering like mad as the big man beats up his foe only a few feet from them, and the Maori Badass flashes them the Maori hand sign, sparking a bigger cheer. Justice, on the other hand, isn’t flashing anything except faces of pain as he tries to get back up. Of course, that won’t be happening soon as Va’aiga slaps him across the face with a backhanded fist…

 

THREE!

 

The Judge coughs hard, thankfully not spitting out any of his teeth from the last blow. The Maori disrespectfully pulls him back up to his feet, grabbing hold of his wrist as he goes for a whip into the steel steps…

 

FOUR!

 

… But the Judge manages to reverse it! Va’aiga goes hurtling towards the cold object, and with a loud crash Va’aiga’s knees collide with the ring steps. The Judge leans up against the ring as the Maori clutches his knees in pain…

 

FIVE!

 

With the tables turned, Justice starts on the offensive, putting his boots right into the knees of Va’aiga to a strophe of jeers from the crowd. The Maori grits his teeth under the assault…

 

SIX!

 

With that number being called, Hearford takes a hint and decides to get back into the ring, leaving Va’aiga trying to stand on his battered knees…

 

SEVEN!

 

The giant Unholy Trinity member staggers up to his feet, his knees aching as he stands, but the big man isn’t known for being deterred by a bit of pain. Va’aiga shrugs it off as he rolls back into the ring.

 

“Va’aiga really rattled his knees with that reversal into the ring steps, but he’s still up and moving.”

 

“Not for long, though,” says Riley with a cackle, “That’s just the weakness that Hearford’s been looking for, and I’ll be damned if he isn’t going to attack it like a pitbull.”

 

Hearford takes up his normal grappling stance as Va’aiga moves forwards, trying to grapple with him. But the Judge ducks under the Maori’s large, tattoo-covered arms, and locks in a waistlock as he tries to German the big man. But he doesn’t have the leverage to get the big man off the ground just yet, and Va’aiga breaks the waistlock, spinning around and putting one of his own on! The Judge tries to sandbag, putting his hands on the waistlock in a desperate attempt to stop it. He’s only delaying the inevitable, though, as Va’aiga lifts him up… up… and over as he releases him at the apex for a massive German Suplex! The crowd cheers for the massive show of strength as Va’aiga rolls over and slowly gets up to his feet.

 

“MY HOUSE!”

 

“HIS HOUSE! HIS HOUSE! HIS HOUSE! HIS HOUSE! HIS HOUSE!”

 

The chant springs up as the big Maori looks over to Hearford, who begins using the ropes to stand back up. He bounces off the ropes as Hearford stands, raising up his foot for a Yakuza kick… but the Judge catches it! The crowd is stunned as Va’aiga is left standing on one foot, and quickly Hearford sweeps Va’aiga off his feet and flips him over, turning it into a Boston Crab.

 

“A brilliant reversal by Hearford there,” says Bobbie with a nod, “If not for his fantastic ring awareness he’d have eaten a big size 16 boot there.”

 

The Judge pulls back on the leg with both arms, causing the big man to give a grunt of pain. Stuck far away from the ropes because of where Justice was, there’s no chance for a rope break. Of course, Va’aiga doesn’t need a rope to break the hold. He pushes his hands to the mat and begins straining his big leg, putting all his power into trying to pull his trapped appendage from the grip of the veteran.

 

“He’s trying to power out of the hold!”

 

“He can’t do that!”

 

“Are you going to be the one to tell him that?”

 

The crowd pops for the giant as he tries to straighten his leg out, and a few chants start up.

 

VA-ING-UH! VA-ING-UH! VA-ING-UH! VA-ING-UH

 

Meanwhile the Judge struggles to keep his footing as the strength of the Unholy Trinity member is on the verge of too much. He plants his feet into the ground and pulls back, trying to sit down, but he just can’t seem to do it. The Maori, on the other hand, continues to push, not about to give up…

 

 

 

… and he does it, pulling Hearford down to the ground! The crowd swells up with a massive roar as Va’aiga pulls his leg away, holding it with his hands.

 

“He did it! I can’t believe he actually powered out of the Crab!”

 

“Doesn’t look like it matters much, though. The Crab did just what it was supposed to.”

 

Slamming his fist in anger, Hearford pushes off the mat and goes over to the downed warrior. He gives him a few sharp boots, allowing himself to get a hold of bad leg of the Maori. He quickly spins the leg around, but Va’aiga pushes him away hard with his other leg. “Judge Mental” takes off at the ropes from the kick, allowing Va’aiga a chance to get up and catch him as he bounces back. He locks his hands around his waists and hurls him upwards, flinging him over the top for a Belly to Belly Suplex! Hearford lands right on his back, and the man grimaces in agony on the canvas as the Maori slowly tries to get back up.

 

But he doesn’t get up too quickly. His leg throbs with pain after taking both the bashing on the steel steps and the Boston Crab, and the giant man now has a noticeable limp as he moves across the ring and towards the still stunned Judge. He pulls him up to his feet, but Hearford grabs Va’aiga’s leg in the process. He quickly spins himself to the mat, taking Va’aiga down with a Dragon Screw legwhip. The crowd boos at Hearford as he drapes himself over the ropes again to catch his breath, still tired from being thrown around by Va’aiga for the greater part of the match. He looks down at the Maori, clutching his leg but trying to get up, and he takes a big breath as he goes back to work, attacking the leg with vicious stomps.

 

“The Judge is really concentrating his efforts on that leg there,” notes Grand Slam as Hearford picks up the Maori, giving him a punch to the head to keep him stunned, “He’s got to be looking for a tapout tonight.”

 

“Can you blame him? The guy he’s fighting cheated him out of his Tag Title Belt. Of course he wants him to submit-OUCH. And that Kneebreaker certainly looked mean as well.”

 

Va’aiga falls back to the ground clutching his leg, and once again, the Judge begins to stomp him down. But this time, he’s not aiming for the knee. It’s time for some payback.

 

“And the Judge is just hammering Va’aiga in the head with those boots!”

 

“Hell yeah! Look at that; Anger management at it’s finest.”

 

The Judge continues his vicious assault, and the Maori blocks his head as best he can. Hearford continues to release his anger at his successor to his tag belt, but finally he gets his emotions under control again. He moves back towards the legs, pulling one up, spinning around and dropping back for a Figure Four Leglock!

 

“Figure Four! Figure Four! It’s over!” cries an ecstatic Bobbie Riley as the Judge grabs Va’aiga’s straight leg and pushes it upwards, trying to put more pressure on it.

 

“This is definitely not looking good for Va’aiga. Last show he tapped out to Tom Flesher’s Superior Stretch, and I’m sure he doesn’t want to make that two losses by tapouts in two shows.”

 

Actually giving a yell of pain, the Maori Badass hits the back of his head against the mat as his legs are pushed to their breaking point. The crowd gives some worried murmurs as Kivell goes over and asked Va’aiga, does he give up. He keeps saying over and over “No, damn it, NO!”

 

“He won’t be saying that for long…”

 

Soon, though, the worried murmurs of the crowd are replaced by rallying cries, and the fans begin to try and inspire Va’aiga to keep going.

 

MAY-OR-EE! MAY-OR-EE! MAY-OR-EE! MAY-OR-EE! MAY-OR-EE!

 

The giant man hears them, the entire Staples Center rising up in a “Maori” Chant, and he plants his hands into the canvas. He bends his neck back, looking towards the ropes, only a few feet away, and starts to move with “Judge Mental” in tow! The Judge puts his hands on the ground, trying to stop or slow down the man, but it doesn’t work, and inch by torturous inch Va’aiga gets closer his salvation. Seeing that he can’t stop him with his hands, Justice goes back and begins pushing upwards on the straightened leg, pushing it up into his other leg. The Maori Badass stops, grinding his teeth and cinching his eyes shut under the pain… but he keeps on going, despite all the pain. He continues on, and the Judge becomes frantic as he continues to try and get him to stop moving, but it’s no use as the giant man reaches backwards and grabs the bottom rope! The crowd rises up in approval as Kivell begins a 5-Count.

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

THREE!

 

FOU-And Hearford breaks the count, obviously frustrated with the toughness of his younger opponent. He gets back up to his feet, and with a face full of anger he begins laying kicks into Va’aiga, still holding onto the rope as he tries to get back up to his feet. The Judge pulls the big man up himself, and begins to lay into him with knife-edged chops.

 

SMACK!

 

WHOO!

 

SMACK!

 

WHOO!

 

SMACK!

 

WHOO!

 

SMACK!

 

WHOO!

 

With that final one, the Judge grabs Va’aiga by the wrist and whips him at the other side… but Va’aiga isn’t going anywhere. He uses his weight to reverse the whip, and holds onto the Judge as he swings him around and into a massive short arm clothesline! The crowd goes wild as the Judge is completely floored, and Va’aiga puts his hand down to his knee for a second before standing up reasonably straight. Hearford begins to get back up, shaking his head to get the cobwebs out as he begins to stand up again… and is hit by another lariat! Va’aiga limps away, but Justice doesn’t go anywhere as he’s planted into the canvas!

 

“What?!” says Bobbie incredulously, “How in God’s name is he doing this?! He’s barely got any legs left to stand on!”

 

Stopping for just a moment, Va’aiga waits for the Judge to get back up again, motioning for him to come right into him. Hearford slowly begins to rise to his feet again, and Va’aiga dashes in for a lockup. But he’s still not quite quick enough to take the Judge by surprise, and Justice quickly ducks under his arm while putting on a reverse Half Nelson… but the Maori stops him! He delivers an elbow right to Hearford’s neck, and without any hesitation he pulls Hearford’s arm between his legs and grabs the Judge’s head and arm, leaning back for an Exploder Suplex!

 

“Exploder Suplex! Exploder Suplex!” cries Grand Slam as the crowd goes ballistic, “This could be it! This is his chance to win!”

 

“No! He can’t come back now! Not after all that!”

 

Va’aiga lies on the ground for a moment, his legs aching, his head hurting, but still he’s better off than the Magnificent 7 member, who lies nearby, almost motionless save for his scrunched up face and his big breaths. The giant man rolls over, and he slowly moves over, pinning Hearford to the ground and making the cover!

 

ONE!

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

THREEEENO! Hearford gets a shoulder up! Bobbie Riley gives a sigh of relief, and the rest of the Staples Center gives a sigh of disappointment as Va’aiga struggles to stand up, bring Hearford up in tow. Finally gaining his vertical base, the Maori Badass fires off a sharp punch, right across the cheek of the Judge. The old man stumbles sideways a few feet, and Va’aiga limps forwards, battering him again with a right hook. The Judge again staggers away, but as Va’aiga goes for a third shot, Hearford comes back to his senses, ducking under it and tackling the big man at the legs. He quickly gets back up while Va’aiga is still on the ground, and he grabs the leg of the Maori badass. He bends one leg around to form a four before falling to the side, putting him in a reverse Figure Four Leglock!

 

“Cross Examination! Cross Examination! This case is CLOSED.” smirks Riley as Va’aiga is left screaming in pain yet again.

 

“He nearly tapped out to this move on the Lockdown in the Six Man! With no one here to save him, I think it may be the end of the line

 

The Maori yells out in misery as Hearford locks on his deadliest leg submission, and the giant man’s hand hovers over the mat as the crowd anticipates the tap out. Everyone watches, and waits, hoping that Va’aiga will finally just give up lest he ruin his legs tonight. But…

 

 

 

THE

 

 

 

 

MAORI

 

 

 

 

WON’T

 

 

 

 

TAP

 

 

 

 

OUT

 

He slams his hovering hand down onto the mat, and he begins to push along on his side towards the ropes. The Judge looks on, frantically, trying everything he possibly can, but nothing seems to have an effect on Va’aiga! The crowd is absolutely loving it, chanting “GO! GO! GO! GO!” as he gets closer…

 

 

 

And closer….

 

 

 

 

And closer…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

UNTIL HE MAKES IT! HE GRABS THE BOTTOM ROPE AND THE CROWD RISES TO THE THEIR FEET WITH CHEERS!

 

YEEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHH!

 

“He did it!… Again!”

 

“NO! NO NO NO NO! HE’S SUPPOSED TO TAP OUT, DAMN IT!”

 

“Va’aiga just has too much pride to tapout twice in a row, Bobbie, and he just showed it tonight.”

 

Kivell begins to start the five count, but before he can Hearford breaks the hold himself, slamming his fist against the ground before holding his face with his hands. He begins to shake as the Maori tries to gain a footing, but the Judge is just too angry to let that happen. He pulls the big man back out into the middle of the ring, and begins to spin around his leg for a Figure Four… But Va’aiga is able to give him a kick off again! The Judge goes stumbling off, and Va’aiga, still limping a bit but working through all the pain, grabs the Judge from behind, getting him ready for an inverted Suplex…

 

“I can’t believe it! I think Va’aiga is going for his end all be all finisher!”

 

“AH! This is a Nightmare! Why must bad things always happen to the Magnificent 7?!”

 

“Because they are bad people?”

 

“It’s a rhetorical question, damn it! You aren’t supposed to actually ANSWER it!”

 

But before Va’aiga can get him off the ground, the Judge kicks backwards into the big man’s leg. The Maori loosens the hold a little bit, but it’s all Hearford needs as he cinches a ¾ Headlock and leaps forwards for a Diamond Cutter!

 

CRACK!

 

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

 

The two hit the ground hard, but it’s obvious who is hurt the most as Hearford is able to roll over and cover the near motionless Va’aiga.

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THREEEEEEEEEEEEE!

 

*DING DING DING*

 

“The winner of the match via pinfall… ‘THE JUDGE’ WILLIAM HEAAAAAARFOOOOOORD!”

 

The crowd boos as the Judge quickly leaves the ring, obviously supremely angry about not getting a submission, but is, a win is a win. In the ring, Va’aiga begins to stir, and the big man begins to stand to a loud bout of cheers. He slowly walks over to the turnbuckle and hammers his hand into it, not pleased with losing, but glad he didn’t submit.

 

“Well, the Judge wins again, but not the way he would have liked to. I guess Va’aiga got him to a draw, eh?”

 

“Draw-shmaw. Hearford won and that’s all that matters.’

 

“Then again, he didn’t tap out, which is almost as important.”

 

“Damn it, I want that guy to be drug tested! He has to be hyped on crack or SOMETHING! No one gets out of that many submissions!”

 

“Whatever, Bobbie. Stay tuned because we have more great wrestling coming your way!”

 

FADE OUT

_____________________________________________________________________________

 

I was really going for the "Judge wants the tapout but Va'aiga doesn't want to tap out 2 times in a row" undercurrent, and with Va'aiga losing but not tapping out and the Judge winning but having to do so by pinfall make it more of a draw. But I got comments already, so C'est la vie...

[Guest Muzz]

Far from being under the influence of drugs, I wasn't under the influence of drugs, which probably made for a match full of repitition, poor grammer and spelling, plus very disjointed work.

 

I won't let this happen again, I assure you.

 

 

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…

 

…

 

…

 

“… Damn it Feels Good to be a Gangsta…”

 

The now familiar sound of the ghetto boys fills the arena as Andrew Blackwell comes out from behind the curtain, ready to do battle once again, forgoing his usual light show, heading straight for the ring in a huff, loosening his collar as he slides under the ropes next to Funyon, who booms out to the crowd…

 

“The following match is scheduled for one fall! Introducing first! From Adelaide, Australia! Weighing in at 228 pounds, he is the Sacred One, he is…

 

ANDREW BLACKWELL!”

 

“And Sacred is wasting no time here tonight!” Exclaims Stevens as Sacred paces around the ring, waiting for his opponent to appear. “This is by FAR the biggest challenge he’s been thrown since returning, and many say he starts as the underdog here tonight.”

 

“I hate to admit it, but it’s true. Frost has got a lot of momentum coming into tonight’s match as everyone is eagerly awaiting the Flesher and Frost showdown, which will promise to be one of the greatest matches we’ve ever seen. But that’s not now, this is now, and Sacred will revel in being called the underdog as he has surprised so many people in his SWF career, and still does so now!”

 

BOOM!

 

Silverish pyro EXPLODES from the rafters as “Snowblind” by Black Sabbath starts on the sound system. A pale blue spotlight bathes the entrance stage and what appears to be snow flutters down from above onto the stage. Frost walks out from behind the curtain as the lyrics start to a huge pop from the capacity crowd!

 

With a Frost brand cigar in his teeth, Frost smiles, clenching a fist and raising it to the crowd, drawing an even larger pop! Wasting no time, Funyon gets on the mic for the second time…

 

“… And, his OPPONENT! From Reykjavik, Iceland! Weighing in at 296 pounds… he is the Velvet Hammer, the Iceman from Iceland, he is…

 

FROST!”

 

Sliding under the ropes, Frost climbs to his feet, handing his cigar to the ref before staring a hole straight through Sacred, who seems just a little uncomfortable in the giant’s presence. The ref looks around, before throwing the cigar out to the crowd, a lawsuit saved by a lucky fan who catches the cigar in the air before it take out an eye.

 

“Two distinct styles, two distinct sizes.” Notes Stevens, summing up the two combatants. “Frost brings his power game while Sacred brings his all round technical and high flying ability, mixed in with some old school veteran tactics. Should be a great match up.”

 

“Too true, Mark, but I think people are SILL underestimating Sacred, even today. He may not be in the best shape of his career, and his attitude is questionable, he is a fabulous ring general, and for my money, will take out the win tonight!”

 

“Fabulous, eh?”

 

The referee sees the two opponents are set to go, and motions to ring side as the crowd suddenly roars!

 

DING! DING! DING!

 

Expecting to see an opponent maybe the height of the Velvet Hammer's chest, Sacred casts a worrying look up into Frost's eyes, seemingly unprepared for an opponent with the size and strength that Frost possesses. The Iceman from Iceland seems satisfied with the reaction he has gotten from his opponent, and approaches him slowly, but deliberately, taking long, giant like strides towards the Aussieman from Aussieland.

 

Showing little fear, Blackwell dives between the Iceman's legs, leaping to his feet and getting in a few hard forearm shots to the back of Frost's neck. When Frost turns around however, the little Aussie has already leapt into the air, sitting atop of Frost's shoulders. Twisting himself around do he and Frost now face the same way, Sacred lays into Frost with more forearm blows, only just avoiding the massive hands of Frost as they reach up to grab him, falling from Frost's shoulders and landing behind him. Wrapping his arms around Frost's waist, only barely locking his hands together around the Icelandic giant, Sacred attempts to pull the Velvet Hammer down in a roll up. However Frost is un-amused by the games played by the cunning Australian, and puts one foot forward, keeping his large frame stable to hold himself in place.

 

Realizing he's in a bad place, Sacred tries to further weaken Frost with boxing jabs to his kidneys, but the Velvet Hammer decides to simply no sell the blows, beginning to run backwards, squashing Sacred against the turnbuckles with his own weight!

 

The fans cry "Ooh!" as Mark Stevens shakes his head at the commentary position. "He is simply going about this match the wrong way, that's plain to see only a minute into this match. Do I sense a little uncertainty, perhaps even insecurity in Sacred's game tonight...?"

 

Disagreeing with an audible "Bah!" Riley replies. "Really, Mark, it's too early to tell. Maybe he trying to lure Frost into a trap? Maybe this is all apart of a plan? Did you ever think about THAT?"

 

"Now, now Bobby, is this the same false hope you put in Thor to become the Junior League World Champion?"

 

"... Please, don't ever bring that up again..."

 

Indeed, it seems Mark Stevens is right on the nose with his observation, as the Australian is visibly shaken already, and no wonder as the Velvet Hammer strikes him across the jaw with stiff right hand shots. As Sacred's head droops from all the blows, Frost tilts his shin back up so their eyes meet and lets fly with a stinging uppercut! Frost now mixes up his offence, pounding on Sacred with a right hand, and then attempting to dislodge his jaw with a stiff uppercut. With Sacred suitably dazed, Frost whips him across the ring and into the opposite turnbuckles. Planting one foot into the mat, Frost makes a charge across the length of the ring...

 

CRUNCH!

 

And decapitates him with a bah gawd clothesline!

 

"Ooh, nasty!" Remarks Riley, jerking back instinctively as the blow is struck. "There's certainly nothing pretty about the way Frost conducts himself in the ring, but man, every blow is effective, and enough to put any normal man down!"

 

There's no relief for Sacred just yet as he's led away like a Hoss drawn carriage, taken into the center of the ring by Frost. Clutching Blackwell's arm, Frost whips him forward, but suddenly whips him back into a short arm knee lift! With Sacred hunched over, the Velvet Hammer backs himself into the ropes, and then slowly trots towards the Australian, kicking him in the side of the head!

 

The crowd cheers, though even they question their lust for violence after that stiff kick.

 

“… He’s just shattered Andrew’s head into tiny little bits, Mark.”

 

“This is just a prelude to what Frost is going to put one Tom Flesher through when he finally gets his hands on him,” Mark replies, taking guilty pleasure in seeing Frost dominate the poor Australian while… “Frost dives over for the cover!”

 

 

ONE!

 

 

TWO! Kick out!

 

As the crowd sighs, obviously disappointed at the two count not turning into three, Riley comments. “Only two there for the Velvet Hammer… But I expected that, Sacred isn’t about to lie down and be humiliated so early into this match. You have to remember, Sacred has seen wrestlers come and go, but he still keeps coming back and fighting on, and to lose to one of the ‘new guard’, well, it may not seem humiliating to us, but to him, it would be a heartbreaking failure on his part.”

 

Grabbing a fistful of Sacred’s hair and lifting him to his feet, Frost whips the Australian into the ropes. Straightening himself out and gaining his bearings before Frost can toss him over his head, The Aussie’s arm latches onto Frost, tightening around his neck.

 

“A good momentum shifter if ever I saw one, the DDT is simple yet deadly effective,” Stevens notes.

 

But Blackwell has other intentions on his mind, as he wrenches down, falling onto one knee, pulling Frost’s neck down in a front face lock!

 

“Spoke too soon!” Riley shouts, almost mocking his cohort. “To be honest, I expected a DDT as well, but this surely is a strange tactic from Sacred… it seems he wants to work the neck in the manner he’s beginning this match, but Frost could easily obliterate him before Frost even begins to feel a twinge in his neck!”

 

Despite Riley’s objections to the move, Sacred continues his strategy, trying to work Frost down even more and create more pressure on the neck and spine, but a refreshed Frost is too difficult to move, and the Icelandic Giant counters by grabbing Sacred by the belt and lifting him up vertically straight into the air! Unable to work himself free, Sacred can do nothing as Frost takes a few steps forward, simply tossing Sacred down chest first onto the top rope! However, the Iceman isn’t done yet as he keeps his hold of the Aussie as he is flung back into the air, and down onto his back after a slingshot Suplex!

 

Riley shakes his head. “I knew that would happen, and now Sacred may be even worse off. He HAS to try SOMETHING, anything, to somehow claw the advantage away from Frost.”

 

Frost hooks his Aussie opponent by the leg, drawing cheers from the fans as the ref begins to slide over.

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

TWO! But no! Yet another two count is reached before Sacred kicks out intently, showing Frost he’ll have to take him to the distance before he’ll go down. However, Frost doesn’t seem to care as he nearly pulls Sacred’s arm out of its socket whipping him into the ropes!

 

Hitting the strands and making his way back to the Iceman, Blackwell ducks a charging lariat attempt and hits the opposite ropes. Catching Frost with his guard somewhat down, Sacred leaps into the air and locks his ankles around Frost’s neck, taking him down to the canvas in an ankle scissors!

 

“FINALLY!” Bobby shouts, following with a sustained groan. “Sacred hits an offensive move!”

 

“Albeit it a weak, hit and run move… Frost is already back to his feet!” Stevens counters.

 

“It’s SOMETHING, Mark! Baby steps, remember? Baby steps…”

 

“I doubt that technique works against a six foot seven Icelandic Velvet Hammer of Party, Bob.”

 

“What makes you so sure? Have YOU tried it yourself?”

 

“No, but by the look of Frost, I’m pretty sure he eats babies, before they can take any steps.”

 

Riley looks into the ring. “… Damn, you’re right.”

 

Springing back to his feet while Frost grumbles, annoyed at the fact he has to pick himself up, Sacred connects with a dropkick to the back of the neck!

 

Crack!

 

Leather shoes smack against skin and bone as Frost sits up, one hand holding his neck, momentarily distracted by a slight pain shooting into his neck. Knowing he has to work fast before Frost recovers any more, Sacred flips over the top of the Velvet Hammer, taking him by the sides of the head and diving forwards, snapping Frost’s neck forward in a whip lash type move.

 

“Henning would be proud,” says a sombre Riley. “His move has been put to good use here tonight, as Frost is beginning to feel the heat, as his neck just starting to wear!”

 

“Exactly, only *just* Bobby,” Stevens retorts. “No part of his body will wear down that quickly with his broad and chiselled physique.”

 

Sacred scrambles back toward Frost, pressing all his weight down on the Iceman’s shoulders.

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

T-No! Frost kicks out strongly already! Continuing to go to work on Frost, Sacred stomps down on his neck with his expensive, shiny black shoes, making sure not to scuff the leather at the same time. Lifting Frost to his feet, Sacred hits him with a few forearm blows before attempting to whip the Iceman into the ropes, a feat he can only barely manage in his out of shape state. As Frost returns, Sacred jumps into the air, flying towards Frost and spinning around him, grabbing him by the arms in a crucifix position!

 

Frost stops in his tracks immediately, reaching back to grab hold of Sacred and hoist him further upward, onto his shoulders as he spins around, the crowd beginning to grow in noise as Frost continues to go faster and faster, moving forward a step or two each time, before the crowd roars as Frost sends Sacred over the top rope with an Airplane Spin!

 

THUD!

 

“Whoa!” Cries and excited Stevens. “Sacred better thank Christ he managed to land on his side, or he would have taken the brunt of that massive bump flat on his back!”

 

The crowd rises and cheers, though Sacred doesn’t care he isn’t the favourite tonight, all he cares about is his broken and battered body he nurses as Frost walks over to the turnbuckles, hand grasping his neck, massaging it and hitting it lightly, trying to gain some more movement after Sacred’s stiff attacks.

 

“One!”

 

The referee counts as Sacred slowly rolls back onto all fours.

 

“Two!”

 

The Australian looks up, finding Frost nursing his neck. A smile appears on his face as he works onto one knee.

 

“Three!”

 

Frost begins to work the crowd, slapping his hand on the turnbuckle while administering on the spot first aid to his neck in a rather primitive fashion.

 

“Four!”

 

The fans clap the Iceman from Iceland as he looses his neck further, and smiles, appreciative of the support, but that smile fades very shortly after as the count reaches…

 

“Five!”

 

… And the Australian begins to slide into the ring head first, but before he can go any further, Frost backs into the ropes behind him and spins in the air, landing on top of Blackwell’s head with a spinning leg drop!

 

“Ingenious work from Frost, proving that he has the great ring presence that Sacred does, first tossing Blackwell outside to buy some time, then catching him as he came back into the ring!” Cries Stevens.

 

Frost falls into a lateral press position for the pin!

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

 

 

TNOO! Andrew Blackwell simply puts his foot to the right, plopping it on the bottom rope and breaking up the pinning attempt.

 

“Indeed, both men are showing marvellous ring presence and smarts. Right about now, Frost would go to the neck and begin to weaken it for the Early Winter, but you have to wonder whether Sacred has thrown a spanner in the works by using his own strategy against him.”

 

“I think he’s seen it won’t take much to keep Sacred down for any amount of time, only recently coming back from a LONG break, with little training. His body wouldn’t be prepared for the bumps he has to take. If Frost sticks to his power game, Sacred will be on his back and taking a pounding faster than Bobby Riley in San Francisco!”

 

“… Dude…” Replies Riley, whimpering. “That’s getting a little old… isn’t it?”

 

Stevens turns to the fans behind him who laugh hysterically. “Evidentially, no.”

 

Frost immediately grabs Sacred’s leg and throws it back on the mat, rearing back, before dropping his knee down on Sacred! Blackwell cries out as Frost continues to drop his knee on his leg, before lifting Sacred to his feet, firing away a few stiff right hand shots before whipping the hapless Aussie into the strands.

 

As his opponent comes rushing back, despite a slight limp, Frost casually takes a few steps back, gaining a running start, accelerating hard from zero, bounding across the mat with incredible speed for a man his size, extending his arm out, striking Sacred across the head…

 

“OOH!”

 

CRASH!

 

… With a LARIAT!

 

“HELL FREEZES OVER!” Shouts Riley, in awe of the power shown by the Iceman as Sacred flips an entire revolution in the air, crashing back down to the mat in a crumpled heap. “Frost must have come to the same realization s us, Mark, as he is just stiffing the hell out of Sacred with these powerful blows.”

 

This time Frost makes sure Sacred is away from the ropes, and hooks the Aussie by the leg as the fans rise, sensing an early victory!

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THRRRRNOOOOO! Sacred rolls a shoulder from the mat to break the count!

 

Soured by yet another kick out from the Sacred One, Frost decides to simply deliver the final blow, lifting Sacred to his feet before turning around to the fans so he can watch their reaction as he…

 

THWACK!

 

… Puts his hand around Sacred’s throat!

 

“With the way Sacred is going, a chokeslam might will put him down for good this time!” Roars Stevens.

 

“Ah, but Sacred knows that already, Mark! LOOK!”

 

As Riley points his hand excitedly toward the squared circle, Andrew Blackwell puts all his force behind three gut wrenching kicks that double Frost over! In a flash, Sacred has hooked his left arm over Frost’s in a front face lock!

 

“CRUEL FATE! He needs the element of surprise on his side, and Frost may be too slow to react…!”

 

But alas, Frost is up to the task and counters easily, pushing himself forward and spearing Sacred into the turnbuckles in front of him! Frost is ready to fight on, but his neck isn’t after being folded on itself following the hit. Knowing a golden opportunity when he sees one, Sacred summons up enough speed to quickly leap forward and onto the Iceman’s neck, starting to wrench him around, using it to spin with a Tornado DDT!

 

The Icelandic monster again meets the challenge, throwing Sacred from his shoulders and over the top rope! Desperately lunging at the final second, Sacred grabs onto the top rope and safely lands on the ring apron! Frost feigns a blind charge, setting a trap that Blackwell falls into, attempting to go down low but as he does, Frost puts his hands on the top rope to stop himself taking the hit, then simply raises a knee and smashes Sacred in the face! From here, Frost attempts a Suplex over the top rope, but Sacred slips away at the last second, going behind Frost and attempting to take him down by the waist. The Iceman takes hold of the ropes again, and Newton’s Second Law sends Sacred rolling backwards, but safely onto his feet, though still feeling the effect of that nasty knee strike.

 

Frost seems only slightly frustrated, and looks to take Sacred’s head off with another Lariat! To his dismay he finds that Blackwell counters! Turning around to meet the Aussie, Frost is suddenly met with a barrage of forearm blows, but he easily takes them and manages to counter with stiff, boxing style punches that send Sacred reeling. Taking Blackwell by the hand, the Iceman whips him across the ring and into the turnbuckles, following in close pursuit. Frost is taken by surprise as Sacred uses the ropes to leap up and take Frost in a headscissors! Using all his momentum and weight, Sacred spins himself around, taking Frost in between the ropes and out onto the floor!

 

“Man, what fast paced, thrilling action we saw there!” Exclaims Stevens. “Each man attempted to finish the other, and both realised things were heating up, which led to a wide array of counters and reversals, which ends up in Frost outside on the floor!”

 

Bobby seems worried as he replies. “Blackwell thought he could buy some time to recover, but Frost is already back on his feet!”

 

Riley hit the nail on the head as Sacred hears Frost get to his feet and walk over to the ring apron. In surprise he spins around, and slowly backs away as Frost slides into the ring, climbing to his feet. The veteran of many SWF matches is suddenly without a clue what to do next. On the flipside, Frost is in control, his eyes trained on Blackwell, stalking him around the ring.

 

Stevens gives us his thoughts. “Sacred has only himself to blame right now. He hasn’t trained at all the past few months, and for him to expect to be able to jump into the ring with one of the best the SWF has to offer today, he’s got another thing coming for him!”

 

“You’re right Stevens… Frost’s size fourteen boot!”

 

Frost’s big boot misses by the narrowest of margins! He spins around, only to be met with Sacred’s hands as they grab him by the head! Hoping to take advantage of Frost’s sore neck, Blackwell attempts a twisting neck breaker! The Velvet Hammer simply pushes Sacred away as he has done before, and Sacred hits the ropes chest first.

 

Stumbling backward a few steps, Sacred is unable to control himself and Frost smiles, knowing Blackwell is ripe for the picking as he plucks his head out of the air and falls backward with an Inverted DDT!

 

WHAM!

 

“Blackwell is now making simple, rookie mistakes, leaving himself wide open for more bruising attacks from the Velvet Hammer!” Cries Stevens.

 

Frost pushes his arms into Sacred’s torso, grinding him into the mat and now allowing him to get away as the referee counts!

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THRRRRRRYYYYEENOOOOOOO! Sacred kicks out AGAIN!

 

“He might be making rookie mistakes…” Replies Riley. “But I haven’t seen a will to fight like this from Sacred in years!”

 

“But is that ever enough to overcome the odds? Frost has got him cornered, and it’s going to take something mighty special to gain victory from here…”

 

Blackwell tries to crawl away, somehow trying to avoid all the punishment, but Frost’s giant hand reaches down and plucks him like a soft toy in a skill tester, lifting him up and grabbing him by the hand, whipping him into the strands. As Blackwell nears the ropes, he suddenly spins around, both arms locking behind the top rope! Although still dazed and confused, Sacred doesn’t miss the Iceman from Iceland making a beeline right for him, and manages to flip over the top rope and land on the apron! Frost can’t stop in time and Sacred manages to catch him in the ribs with a thrusting shoulder!

 

Placing his hands on the ropes, Blackwell doesn’t dare waste any time as he flips over the top rope, grabs Frost around the waste and brings him down to the mat in a Sunset Flip!

 

“In comes the ref!” Shouts Riley, praying for an upset.

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TTTTHHHHKICKOUT! The fans go wild as Frost forces Blackwell away, breaking the count. Tired, bruised and battered, Sacred shakes his head. Smarts and surprise won’t fool this Iceman, then what can he do to overcome him? Blackwell whirls back to his feet, meeting Frost before he can climb up, stomping him around the neck, and prompting suspicious looks from the referee. Backing away just to be safe, Sacred attempts to whip the Giant into the ropes…

 

But it’s reversed! The Australian bounces from the strands, but this time he won’t be caught, flying toward the Velvet Hammer with a Harlem Side Kick! But the big man catches him by the leg! Frost growls and pulls Sacred towards him, trying to elbow him in the jaw, but Sacred ducks in time. His next move not quite planned, Sacred resorts to something desperate…

 

“Not quite so main event sleeper hold!” Yells Riley. “If there’s anything that can kill momentum or crowd heat, it’s a sleeper!”

 

“Sacred’s bag of tricks is empty it seems. He is really scraping the bottom of the barrel now!” Stevens shouts in reply. “Blackwell better hold on for dear life or risk losing this match all together…”

 

And hang on for dear life he does, leaping up onto Frost, wrapping his arms around his neck and legs around his waist, putting everything into the hold, which he so callously put on at the spare of the moment. Instead of kill the crowd; they come alive, suddenly chanting…

 

“PAR-TY!”

 

CLAP! CLAP! CLAP!

 

“PAR-TY!”

 

CLAP! CLAP! CLAP!

 

“PAR-TY!”

 

CLAP! CLAP! CLAP!

 

“PAR-TY!”

 

Riley seems sceptical. “That’s gonna please him, or really, really piss him off… either way, Sacred comes off the worst.”

 

His head is partly cut off fro circulation, his head near the colour of an apple as Sacred throws his weight forward, trying to bring Frost down to the mat. But The Iceman from Iceland doesn’t need the crowd to revive him as he suddenly backs up, trying to drive Sacred into the turnbuckles! This time though, Sacred sees it coming and leaps from Frost at the last second, finding himself sitting on the top rope. As Frost pivots around to meet his stare, Blackwell leaps from the second rope with a flying cross body splash! The Velvet Hammer easily catches him in mid air! Frost positions himself for the Barrel Roll Slam, but at the last moment he turns Sacred around as if for a body slam…

 

“A Bodyslam…?” Asks Riley. “Surely not… He’ll kill him for god sakes!”

 

“Oh, stop playing around Bobby. It looks as I he’s going for the…”

 

… Suddenly, Frost falls out, sitting down on the mat and driving Sacred neck first into the mat with a Northern Lights Bomb!

 

“SNOW PLOW!” Announces Stevens. “That may just be curtains for Sacred!”

 

“Argh!” Riley groans. “I know Sacred can do this, if he could just hold out a bit longer…! Kick out man, kick out…!”

 

The fans erupt as Frost drops to his knees and grabs Sacred’s trousers, pulling them up and hooking him by the leg as the ref slams his palm on the mat!

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TTTTHHHRRRREEEEEEEYYEEEESHOULDERUP!

 

The fans can’t believe it!

 

Neither can Stevens who stares in disbelief. “Andrew Blackwell should be GONE by now! I don’t know what he’s running on, but he’s pulling out all his reserves to keep up with Frost in this match.”

 

“I think Sacred may be regretting his carefree life style right now as he crawls around on the mat! But damnit, who cares? He still has a chance!”

 

“Why are you supporting Sacred so much? What reason do you have?”

 

“He’s true blood Junior League, true blood IGNWF, just like me, and you Mark! He’s a former stable mate and friend, and I want to see him reach the top again!”

 

“Well, you maybe have to wait a little longer as Frost gets Sacred to his feet, looking to end this whole match right now!”

 

Stevens call is correctly as Frost grabs Blackwell by the scruff on the neck, taking him by the collar and pulling down, exposing his chest and ripping the buttons from their threads. Looking a dishevelled and beaten man, Sacred stumbles around as Frost grabs him by the arm, performing a simply wristlock as the crowd roars to life! Holding Blackwell’s arm out to the side, Frost rears back with his fist…

 

“He’s looking for the heart punch, set-up to the EARLY WINTER!” Cries Stevens, jumping out of his seat.

 

Sacred shakes his head, determined to get away and counters with desperation, suddenly going low and taking Frost down across the top rope with a drop toe hold! The sudden move forces Frost down, his neck placed on the top strand as Sacred turns around and mercilessly pushes the Velvet Hammer down across the rope, choking the life out of him!

 

“Blackwell’s trying to aggravate that neck of Frost’s again, but the only thing he seems to be aggravating is the referee!” Shouts Riley, pleased as he watches Frost struggle for air.

 

The referee will have none of this, and soon counts…

 

“ONE!”

 

“TWO!”

 

“THREE!”

 

“FOUR! Get off of him Sacred!”

 

But the Australian is determined to keep hold! Deciding he has to take matters into his own hands to prevent a Disqualification, the ref tries to pull Sacred away, but by reflex or planned strategy, Blackwell turns around and pushes the ref across the ring! Frost turns around as Sacred grumbles at the ref who hash is back turned, his body not meant to take any sort of punishment.

 

Frost pivots around and…

 

THWACK!

 

His hand grasps Sacred by the throat! But Sacred goes down low with the referee not watching, kicking Frost in the groin! The fans cry out in vain, trying to attract the referee’s attention, but nothing doing as Sacred looks his opponent in the eyes…

 

DING!

 

… Before kicking him in the groin AGAIN!

 

“THAT’S BLATANT CHEATING!” Stevens cries in an absolute uproar!

 

But events happen almost in an instant as the Sacred One grabs a doubled over Frost, hooks his left arm over his and locks on a front face lock, lifting his leg up, and suddenly swinging it back, falling forward…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

…

 

 

 

 

 

 

And hitting the CRUEL FATE!

 

“DAMNIT!” Stevens roars, not believing what he’s seeing. “Sacred has resorted to the most heinous tactics to win this match, and it’s going to work! DAMNIT!”

 

“HAH! BEAUTIFUL! You know what they say Stevens, the more groin the better.”

 

As the whole world turns to Riley, they quickly turn back to the events in the ring where Sacred puts his arms underneath frost’s legs and rolls him onto his shoulders for the pin!

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

 

… Sacred reaches back, putting his feet on the second rope as Frost begins to squirm away!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TTTTTHHHRRRRREEEEEEEEEEYYYYEEESSSS! That’s it!

 

DING! DING! DING!

 

“Damni t Feels Good to be a Gangsta” kicks up as Sacred rolls away, a dazed and confused Frost wonders what just happen, knowing he was only a split second away from escaping, but Funyon’s booming voice confirms his darkest fears.

 

“The winner of this match… “The Sacred One”, ANDREW BLACKWELL!”

 

“By hook or by crook I say!” Riley exclaims. “Sacred pulls out the big V with some INGENIOUS veteran tactics!”

 

“CHEATING is not a valid tactic, no matter what the Suicide King will tell you! Frost had this won on numerous occasions, but Sacred kept coming back. He KNEW Frost would soon over come him, and went the dishonest route, I’ll say it again folks, CHEATING to win the match! I can’t believe it!”

 

“Oh believe it, Mark! Sacred wins this match, albeit by the slimmest of margins, but a win is a win, and Sacred goes 3 – 0 on his return!”

 

Storming back up the ramp way, Sacred doesn’t look back, even having the audacity to smile; simply pleased he’s beaten the Iceman from Iceland. Frost growls, a slight cut on his forehead from crashing to the canvas, but that don’t matter as he watches the old veteran escape from his clutches once again.

 

“I’m sure these two will meet again soon, no doubt! But for now, we have to go to a break, but stay tuned for more SWF Storm after this commercial break!”