Ground Zero

[Guest Suicide King]

As the Pay-Per-View warning fades away, the now famous SWF teaser blasts onto screens worldwide, its combination of logos, flashing lights, deep bass and cheering crowds letting no one make a mistake that the Smartmarks Wrestling Federation is on the air!! Finally, the logo appears and holds steady for a moment before itself fading into oblivion.

 

A long moment of dark screen and deathly quiet…

 

An image of the Omaha Civic Arena appears, empty, quiet and lonely. The ring has been set up but the lights and stage are still scaffolding on the ground. Soft, menacing music starts to play, lots of strings and low horns. Then, a voice starts to speak…

 

“In every life, there are beginnings…”

 

Images of John Duran, Dante Crane and Charlie “The Show” Matthews appear in brief flashes superimposed over the still picture of the arena.

 

“… and endings.”

 

Images of the best-of-five series between Janus and Crow flash into and out of visibility, like ghost images in the air.

 

“There are new challenges…”

 

The four men vying for a shot at the ICTV Title get some screen time now, the images still washed out and insubstantial.

 

“… and old grudges.”

 

Frost and Flesher appear, standing nose-to-nose, hatred etched on their faces.

 

“In every man’s life, he will face questions…”

 

The music starts to build now, more brass coming in with some deep percussion. A spectral image of WildChild facing off with Ejiro floats across the stage, emphasized by a ghostly Mark Stevens asking “Is Ejiro responsible for WildChild’s success?”

 

“answers…”

 

The tag teams involved in the Title match next materialize. Quiz and Show walking down the aisle. International Incident holding court in the ring, gesturing to the fans. Dace and Va’aiga standing proud in the center of the ring, holding the Tag Title Belts high for all to see.

 

“… and unwelcome revelations.”

 

Sean Atlas and Beezel appear next, their masked faces betraying no emotion, but their eyes are intense and cold as they stare down the camera.

 

“Every man will see trust betrayed…”

 

The music starts to swell to a conclusion as images of TNT and Danny Williams solidify, some from better days as student and teacher. But also some from more recent events, as the war between them heats up.

 

“… and every man will make a stand against evil.”

 

Finally, Thoth appears, his eyes are unfeeling and grim, his hands clutching at something in front of him, making the viewer think of necks crushed and lives destroyed. As he fades, the image of The Boston Strangler occurs, holding the World Heavyweight Title high over his head, elation on his tired face.

 

Now the music becomes fast and percussive, almost overwhelming in nature. The images flash by furiously. Images of men locked in mortal combat, trying to win out through force of body and will over their opponents. Then the voice returns…

 

“For the time is now, the time when all men shall make their stand or be forgotten! As in everything, there is always destruction before creation! There is always fire before water! There is always Armageddon before Paradise!! Tonight is the night!! Tonight, all that once was shall cease to be! All that has come before shall be torn down to make way for rebirth! Before Genesis, there must be annihilation!! The time is now!! The place is here!! The button has been pressed! Prepare yourself for…”

 

“GROUND ZERO!!!!”

 

The prepared video package gives way to a live shot of the Omaha Civic Arena! All is dark for a moment before a huge fireball erupts from the stage! “Faint” by Linkin Park kicks in as huge amounts of sickly green pyro erupts from the stage and ring, lighting up the arena and all the fans! The house lights come up as the camera scans the audience and the stage. Everything looks like a bomb has gone off. There are stylized jagged metal and concrete fragments everywhere, making it look like a proper stage and façade was erected, but destroyed by some smiting hand of God!

 

Finally, the camera turns to “Grand Slam” Mark Stevens and Bobby Riley, dressed sharp as always, sitting at the announcer’s table at ringside.

 

“Welcome Ladies and Gentlemen to SWF Ground Zero!! We are live from the sold-out Omaha Civic Arena just a hop, skip and a jump from my hometown of Lincoln, Nebraska! I’m “Grand Slam” Mark Stevens and with me, as always, is my announcing partner, Bobby Riley!”

 

“And it is great to be here tonight Mark! We are listening to the official theme song of Ground Zero, “Faint” by Linkin Park! That is one hell of a track Slammer.”

 

“That it is Bobby! Fans, have we got a show for you tonight! In out Main Event, the Boston Strangler will defend the greatest prize in the business, the SWF World Heavyweight Title against his old Clanmate, Thoth!”

 

“That’s not it by a longshot Mark. We have the Tag Titles on the line, the U.S. Title, a huge matchup between Frost and “My Superior One” Tom Flesher and a mask-versus-mask match between Atlas and Beezel! We get to see their faces Slammer!”

 

“Add in a few debuts, and cage AND a Hell in a Cell match, and you have the makings of one damn fine Pay-Per-View!!”

 

“And what better way to start it off than a three-way!”

 

“Good grief. We were doing so well!”

[Guest Suicide King]

GROUND ZERO 2003!!!

AN SWF PAY-PER-VIEW EXTRAVAGANZA!

Sunday August 10th, matches due at 10 pm!

Live from the Omaha Civic Arena in Omaha, Nebraska!

Theme song "Faint" by Linkin Park!

 

 

 

 

 

FEATURING…

 

"The Sinner" John Duran vs. Xcalibur vs. Dante Crane

 

The latest JL bumpee versus the latest person to skip the JL entirely versus some ring escort!

 

One man has climbed the mountain and is ready for the next leg of his journey to greatness. The other knows that work is for chumps, and used his connections to get past the doorman. The last one knows that it's not what you know, it's who you know. Let's see how quickly it takes for this match to go from ugly to only-fucked-by-the-blind hideous!

 

 

 

"Judge Mental" William Hearford vs. Nathaniel Kibagami vs. "The King of Nightmares" Michael Craven vs. "The Sacred One" Andrew Blackwell

 

For the chance to face the ICTV champion, and for the chance to cause a whole lot of pain!!

 

These four men have all turned it up a notch of late. Justice is hungering for a singles belt of his own. Kibs has regressed to a level of brutality unseen in a long while. Blackwell is eager to show that he is dominant, as any former world champ should be. And Craven wants to shoot up the card, and just maybe get a little revenge for a certain Demonstar Driver...

 

 

 

"Deathwish" Danny Williams vs. TNT

 

Issues unresolved leading to a future uncertain!

 

Teacher and student, former allies, now locked in a battle for respect. Each man claims they are next in line for the prize, but first they must take care of each other! The winner of this match will prove himself to be everything he said he was, but in addition to that the winner will face the victor of Tom Flesher vs. Frost for a chance at a World Title match!

 

 

 

Ejiro Fasaki vs. Wildchild

 

Who deserves credit for Wildchild's accomplishments? The cage knows...

 

These two perennial rivals hve both risen to excellence of late, with Ejiro becoming US champion and Wildchild rising atop the Hardcore division! But with Ejiro's rising megalomania the Bahama Bomber has taken exception with his claims. Now they will fight, with pride on the line! And who knows what additional, more private wagers they may have placed on the outcome of this match?

 

 

 

The Unholy Trinity (Dace Night and Va'aiga) vs. International Incident (CIA and "The Franchise" Mak Francis) vs. Double Jeopardy (Quiz and Charlie "The Show" Matthews)

 

Six men... four with an issue to settle, and two very wild cards, all fighting for the tag titles!

 

The Trinity unseated the seemingly unstoppable Justice and Rule. II charged through a competition packed tag division to emerge as teh number one contenders! These two teams were on a collision course, but King has thrown them all a swerve by throwing in the rookie team of Double Jeopardy!

 

 

 

Sean Atlas vs. Beezel

 

Two mysteries, one solution. They have everything to lose.

 

There are issues here, to be sure. Each person has hid their identities their entire tenure in the SWF, with the unspoken assertion that their identities' revelation would be greeted with... unhappiness by their cohorts in the lockerroom. Well, one contender must finally face the music at Ground Zero, and it's clear that each man is willing to do whatever it takes to ensure that their faces never, ever see the light of day!

 

 

 

Janus vs. Crowe

 

It's the end of the road for one man, and it's one hell of a sudden stop. Whose career comes to an end tonight? The Cell hungers for blood...

 

The Hell Machine... the Antichrist Superstar. Two men with long standing issues. Two men go into the Cell, and the man with less to give will not only be brutalized beyond recognition, but will forever hang up his boots. Normally the most sadistic competitor wins, but can one of these beasts safely be called more vicious than the other? Can they safely be called anything?

 

 

 

"The Superior One" Tom Flesher vs. Frost

 

Beyond the looking glass... oh fuck, let's just go right through the damned thing!

 

To say that these two men have issues is a bit like saying the Trojan War was about two guys fighting over a chick. They have fought before, and will undoubtedly fight again, but tonight the blood will be taken to a new level as each man attempts permanent harm to the other! Each has tried their best to get in the other's head, so the time has come to see which has succeeded. The winner will move on to face the winner of Williams vs. TNT, and the winner of that match will face the world champion for the title!

 

 

 

 

AND THE MAIN EVENT…

 

THE BOSTON STRANGLER VS. THOTH

 

IN A STREETFIGHT FOR THE WORLD HEAVYWEIGHT TITLE!

 

Thoth unseated a dominant champion, only to be blindsided by the surging Strangler! Since then Thoth has bided his time, waiting, watching, learning... and hungering. The Boston Strangler has yet to face a challenge to his reign, and it remains to be seen if he has what it takes to be a champion you can build a franchise on. Well, tonight we find out as these two former stablemates clash in a epic confrontation that is sure to disgust the squeamish. Blood will tell, they say, and blood calls to blood...

[Guest Suicide King]

*BOOMBOOMBOOMBOOMBOOMBOOMBOOM*

 

A series of pyros go off in sequence, filling the darkened arena with bursts of green light. Once these explosions cease, the lights splash over the arena and "Faint" by Linkin Park kicks in as the SWF cameras sweep through the crowd that has gathered in the Omaha Civic Arena in Nebraska for yet another SWF pay-per-view extravaganza! The signs go shooting up into the air all around the arena as our two master of ceremonies welcome us in.

 

Stevens: "WELCOME LADIES AND GENTLEMEN TO SWF GROUND ZERO, LIVE from Omaha, Nebraska! There's something for everyone here tonight, as just about every SWF superstar will attend tonight for the big show!"

 

Riley: "Including your hero and mine, Mark! The Superior One will grace us with his presence tonight!"

 

Stevens: "Yes, Tom Flesher is expected to be in a great match with Frost, but there's plenty more action ahead!"

 

Riley: "I love the action!"

 

Stevens: "Then what are we waiting for? Let's take it to the ring, where Funyon is ready with the introductions."

 

The lights go out in Omaha as a dim blue lighting replaces the darkness. "Great Big White World" by Marilyn Manson begins to play...

 

BOOM!

 

White and blue pyro explode from the stage, the lights flashing on as the smoke mixes with the green lighting.

 

"...cause it's a great big white world!"

 

"Sick Boy" Dante Crane walks through the smoke, sporting the full-length trenchcoat as he begins to walk down the aisle.

 

Funyon: "Ladies and gentlemen, this next match is a triple threat match in which the first pinfall wins! Introducing first, weighing in at two hundred and ten pounds, from Shawinigan, Quebec...'Sick Boy' DANTAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAYYYYYYYYY CRANNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNEEEEEEEE!"

 

Crane walks down to the ring, focused on the match as the crowd cheers him on.

 

Stevens: "You know, it's quite amazing that Dante Crane has such a following here in the SWF."

 

Riley: "'Following?' I believe the proper term is 'cult,' Mark."

 

Crane doesn't acknowledge the fans cheering, sliding into the ring and taking his trenchcoat off, tossing it to the referee for this match. Dante then goes to a corner facing the SmarkTron, waiting for his opponents. As if on cue, "Sinner" by Drowning Pool kicks in, the crowd's cheers turning to boos for the former SJL Champion.

 

"Bend me, shape me, misdirect me!"

 

John Duran steps through the curtain and onto the stage, pausing for a moment and then raising his hands in the air slowly, middle fingers outstretched. He gets a few middle digits back at him as he begins to walk down to the ring.

 

Funyon: "His opponent, hailing from Champaign, Illinois, weighing in at two hundred and sixty-five pounds, he is The Sinner...JOHN DURAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAN!"

 

Duran continues his walk down towards the ring, having lowered his arms but still getting a negative response from the crowd, complete with scattered middle fingers to continue giving "The Sinner" a taste of his own medicine.

 

Stevens: "Duran doesn't seem to be interacting much with the crowd like he usually does. That could possibly have to do with the fact that this is his WF debut, and it's a big opportunity for him to impress in front of millions."

 

Riley: "Oh yes, because the sellout crowd in OMAHA, NEBRASKA can be so daunting sometimes."

 

Duran enters the ring, as he and Dante meet eyes for a moment before Duran goes to other empty corner facing the SmarkTron, pumping himself up for the match as the last entrant is yet to be introduced. Suddenly, the lights go out and "Stupid Girl" by Cold plays as gold pyro rains down from the ceiling onto the stage. Xcalibur steps through it, getting a negative reaction from the Nebraska crowd as he begins his walk down towards the ring.

 

Funyon: "Finally, coming down to the ring from Houston, Texas, weighing in at two hundred and thirty-six and two-fifths pounds...XCALLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIBURRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!"

 

Stevens: "Well, we don't know much about this guy, except that his wrestling was so impressive that the Commissioner apparently deemed it necessary for this man to go straight to the WF!"

 

Riley: "He's not that bad-looking either."

 

Stevens: "Well, he does appear to be a very handsome man...wait, what?"

 

Xcalibur makes his way to the ring as a few scattered cheers can be heard, likely from the cult-like status that Xcalibur is gaining. Xcalibur goes up to the apron and enters the ring, not going to a corner but standing near the ropes, looking at both men carefully, focused. The referee, making sure everything is ready, turns to the timekeeper and calls for the bell.

 

*DING DING DING*

 

With the match underway, Dante and Duran come out of their respective corners, without getting too close to each other or too close to Xcalibur. The three men circle each other for a moment, but Xcalibur has his eyes on Duran for what appears to be quite a long time. Finally, Xcalibur makes a motion with his head towards Dante and "The Sinner" nods in response. Before Dante has time to react, Xcalibur and John strike, hitting Dante with two solid right hands that send Dante reeling back to the corner from where he came as Xcalibur and Duran approach the stunned Dante.

 

Riley: "Yes! Dante Crane is already being double-teamed!"

 

Stevens: "But remember, Bobby, the first elimination is the last elimination, so Duran and Xcalibur's double team can't last for long."

 

Crane is backed up into the corner, as Xcalibur and Duran connect again with a couple of right hands, before Duran begins directing traffic, pointing towards the opposite corner. Both men grab Dante's arms and toss him towards the opposite corner. Dante goes crashing into the corner and Duran comes charging after him, extending his arm and slamming it into Dante's chest with a clothesline. "Sick Boy" manages to stay upright, but as Duran moves out of the way, Xcalibur crouches down and charges towards Dante, slamming his shoulder into the solarplexes of Crane as Dante takes the full brunt of a spear from Xcalibur, slumping down in the corner. As Xcalibur brings himself back upright, he doesn't see Duran come from his right, as "The Sinner" forms a double axe-handle with his two fists, slamming them into Xcalibur's back.

 

Stevens: "There you go, perfect example of what I was saying right there. You can't trust anybody in a match like this, it may be the opener, but it's the first time in an SWF ring for these guys and they want to shine right here, right now."

 

Riley: "The fragile bond has been broken. 'Tis a shame. Oh well, time for some asskicking!"

 

Xcalibur is doubled over from the blow to the back as John grabs him, putting him in a front facelock and bringing him away from Crane, who is still trying to regain himself after being surprised early in the match with a pretty vicious double team. Duran brings Xcalibur into the middle of the ring and then breaks the front facelock himself with a sharp elbow to the back with his free arm, sending Xcalibur down to the mat. Duran quickly drops down to the mat and rolls Xcalibur over, covering him and actually hooking the leg as the referee drops to the mat to count the first pinfall of the match.

 

ONE-KICKOUT!

 

Xcalibur easily kicks out before the count of one can even be finished, and both Duran and Xcalibur get to their feet. The crowd boos Duran, likely because he went for a cover after such a simple move like that, and Xcalibur has a "What the fuck?" look on his face as he looks at the grinning Duran.

 

Stevens: "I'm not quite sure what Duran was thinking there, I don't think that an elbow to the back has been well known for finishing off opponents."

 

Riley: "It's all about psychology, Mark. He's messing with his head, making X think that he's weaker than he really is. Duran's a genius, you know."

 

Stevens: "It doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that someone could be knocked out from an elbow to the back. Be serious for a moment, Bobby."

 

Xcalibur shakes off the weirdness of the past 30 seconds, approaching Duran once again as the two lock up in a collar-and-elbow tie up. Duran gets the advantage once again, however, and whips the Houston native into the ropes. As X rebounds off the ropes, John charges towards him, colliding shoulders with Xcalibur and getting the best of him, sending him down to the mat with a running shoulderblock. With Xcalibur down on the mat, Duran continues, leaping up into the air and extending his leg out, slamming it down under the neck of Xcalibur as the big two hundred and sixty-five pound legdrop connects. "The Sinner" neglects going for the cover this time, however, instead opting to get to his feet so he can lean over Xcalibur, taunting him. Duran doesn't notice Dante coming up from behind, however, as Crane turns John around and then does a little spin of his own, bringing his leg up and smashing it against the side of Duran's head. Duran falls to the mat next to Xcalibur as the fans finally have something to cheer about in this match, and they follow through with the cheering.

 

Stevens: "And Dante Crane has entered himself back into this match!"

 

Riley: "It's about time, I thought the pansy boy was all tired out from getting his ASS WHIPPED."

 

With Duran and Xcalibur down on the mat, Dante decides to go after Duran, and Xcalibur decides to go to the outside of the ring to rethink his strategy. Dante brings Duran up by his jet-black hair, and once John reaches a vertical base, Crane steps to the left of Duran, grabbing him in a ¾ face lock, placing Duran's head on his right shoulder and whipping Duran forward with a snapmare, sending him into a sitting position on the mat. Using his quickness, Dante quickly goes into the ropes to the back of Duran, bouncing off them and flipping through the air. On his way down, Dante grabs the head of "The Sinner" and snaps it forward, whiplashing John backwards after a hard neck snap from "Sick Boy."

 

Stevens: "A very textbook move there from Dante, simple snapmare and the simple neck snap."

 

Riley: "Simple, yet unfortunately for Duran, very effective."

 

Dante isn't quite done with Duran on the mat, however, sitting him back up and positioning himself behind Duran. Crane draws his leg back and then brings it forward, kicking "The Sinner" HARD in the back, and John certainly feels it, arching forward and holding his back in pain. However, he doesn't get too long to attend to his back, as "Sick Boy" winds up again and smashes another kick into Duran's back, this time with his left leg, before coming back with the right leg and slamming it against the temple of Duran. Duran collapses to his left, looking to be a little bit more than dazed, and rightfully so. Crane falls to the mat, pinning down the shoulders of Duran as the referee goes down to the mat to count the pinfall.

 

ONE...

 

 

 

 

 

TWO-KICKOUT!

 

Duran apparently isn't fazed enough to go down for the three count, as he kicks out just a little bit after the two count. Meanwhile, Xcalibur seems to be more than ready to head back into the ring, and he does so as Crane gets to his feet after a failed pin attempt.

 

Stevens: "Dante is fast, but he might want to pay attention to what's going on behind him, because we've got a fresh man entering the ring in Xcalibur."

 

Riley: "Eh, anything that happens to 'Sick Boy,' he'll have coming."

 

Xcalibur comes up behind Dante and turns him around, bringing his hand across the chest of Dante.

 

SMACK

 

WOO!

 

Dante staggers back a little from the first chop, but Xcalibur keeps it coming, slapping his hand across Crane's chest once again.

 

SMACK

 

WOO!

 

Dante is in the corner now, and trying to cover up, but Xcalibur will have none of that, exposing Crane's chest and going for a third chop.

 

SMACK

 

WOO!

 

Stevens: "Those chops hurt, Bobby, there's no doubt about that, and the way Xcalibur is just laying them in there, Crane has got to be in a nice amount of pain."

 

Riley: "Eh, it could be worse."

 

Stevens: "Like..?"

 

Riley: "Could be watching you wrestle. Now that's painful."

 

Stevens: "Well, Bobby, rest easy knowing that your homosexual innuendo makes me want to be around someone less annoying. I'd be willing to sign Mark Kinxx to the Bases Loaded Training Camp."

 

Riley: "That stings, Marky Mark. Really."

 

After the series of three chops, Xcalibur finally grabs Dante by his arm and tosses him into the opposite corner with some force. Dante bounces off the turnbuckles and comes back towards the center of the ring, but Xcalibur is there waiting for him, falling to the mat and extending his legs out, kicking Crane's legs out from under him as Xcalibur hits a dropkick to the knees of "Sick Boy." With Dante out of the picture, Xcalibur turns his focus over to Duran, apparently wanting to put him out on the mat as well before attempting any kind of a pinfall. Xcalibur goes over to where Duran is resting, under the bottom rope, but there's no rest for the wicked as Xcalibur brings John up.

 

Stevens: "I don't know if Xcalibur should be doing this, I think Duran was pretty much out on the mat."

 

Riley: "He's just cleaning up the mess like my male prostitutes do, Mark. Simple as that."

 

Xcalibur brings the taller Duran down to his level with a kick to the midsection, doubling "The Sinner" over and putting him in a front facelock and draping Duran's left arm over his shoulder. X quickly lifts Duran up, snapping him right back down to the mat with a snap suplex.

 

Stevens: "There's one snap suplex, but Xcalibur is getting up, I think he might be going for the Triple Crown!"

 

Riley: "You must've been waiting for months to bust that line out, being a crazed baseball fanatic."

 

Xcalibur slowly manages to get himself back up, keeping Duran locked in that same position and snapping back again, connecting with a second snap suplex. The crowd is enjoying seeing Duran suplexed around the ring, so by the time X is getting up to hit that third snap suplex and hit the Triple Crown, his "groupies" are behind him. However, Dante did not stay down like Xcalibur hoped, and by the time Xcalibur sees Dante coming towards him, it's fair too late.

 

THWACK

 

Dante's leg comes up and slams into the face of Xcalibur, sending him down to the mat and releasing the front facelock. Duran doesn't get a break, however, as Dante switches his line of attack over to "The Sinner." With Duran's back to Dante, "Sick Boy" takes advantage of the situation, wrapping his arms around Duran's waist, possibly for a German suplex. Dante tries to lean back to suplex Duran onto his head, but John fights it, firing back a couple of sharp right elbows. After two elbows, a third breaks the hold, as Duran now turns to be face-to-face with Crane.

 

Riley: "Woo! Here comes Duran to save the day!"

 

Stevens: "Duran is a superhero who fights against the evildoers with talent?"

 

Riley: "Ooh, touché."

 

As Dante tries to bring his eyes to meet Duran's, John makes sure such a thing doesn't happen, bringing his hand across the eyes of "Sick Boy" and raking them. Dante is temporarily blinded, and Duran takes advantage, kicking Dante in the midsection and putting him in a front facelock before dropping back. Dante's head lands with a thud on the mat as Duran connects with a DDT, rolling Dante over onto his back and going for the cover, hooking the leg tightly as the referee quickly swings around to make the cover.

 

ONE...

 

 

Xcalibur is a little dazed, but he notices the situation.

 

 

TWO...

 

 

Xcalibur dives for Duran..

 

 

NO!

 

Xcalibur manages to nail Duran and get him off Dante, thus breaking the cover at a very close two count. Some of the fans cheer for this fact, glad to see that this match is still going strong.

 

Stevens: "Very close call there, Xcalibur must be feeling pretty lucky after just BARELY managing to break that pinfall at the count of two."

 

Riley: "Speaking of getting lucky..."

 

Stevens: "Just stop, Bobby."

 

Xcalibur seems relieved after breaking the pinfall, and now goes over to Duran to bring him to his feet so he can work him over. However, as Xcalibur gets up after his match-saving dive, Duran has already, in a rage, raised up to a point. In fact, he's crouched down as Xcalibur gets up to his feet. Duran begins his charge towards the Texan and his shoulder collides with Xcalibur's stomach with a sickening slap as Xcalibur is driven back from the momentum of Duran.

 

"OHH!"

 

The turnbuckles almost explode with noise as Xcalibur slams into them, his head whipping back like a crash test dummy. Instead of going ahead with stiff punches to Xcalibur's body, Duran puts his hands on Xcalibur and picks him up in a Gorilla Press, before tossing him out of the ring.

 

THUD

 

Xcalibur slams onto the outside, even bouncing up slightly before coming to a stop, having taken a long hard road to the outside. Duran takes a little time to taunt Xcalibur on the outside, likely saying some unsavory things about him, but what Duran fails to do is keep an eye on Crane. Once Duran turns around, Crane lifts up a boot to plant in Duran's gut, but John snatches it out of mid air. "Sick Boy" is thinking quick, however, and as Duran flashes Crane a grin, Dante gets the last laugh as he comes around with his right boot and smacks it right into the back of Duran's head. "The Sinner" collapses to the mat in a heap after the enzuigiri, as Dante switches his focus over to Xcalibur, who is still down on the outside of the ring after being gorilla pressed out by Duran.

 

Riley: "Bah! Get up! Duran, Xcalibur! One of you! Get up and put this goth punk down!"

 

Stevens: "This is Dante's match to lose at this point, as he seems to be in a good amount of control over the both of them, Xcalibur and John are going to have to get their stuff together and quick if they want to win this match."

 

Dante doesn't leave the ring, but instead stands near the ropes, crouching down and holding onto the top rope, waiting for the opportunity to present itself. Xcalibur begins to get to his feet, but seems very out of it. Finally, Dante lifts off, leaping from the ring to the outside using the top rope as a slingshot, extending his body out and smothering Xcalibur as both men fall to the mat. The fans get up out of their seats and cheer in appreciation of Dante's athleticism and perfection in doing such a high-risk, balls-out move.

 

Stevens: "That was a very impressive slingshot splash from Dante! I must say, he's really impressing me in his first match!"

 

Riley: "Bah. He'll run out of energy soon enough, and then intelligence will set in. Can you say DURAN BEATDOWN?"

 

Crane returns to his feet after plastering Xcalibur to the mat with that slingshot splash, once again leaving his fans unacknowledged as he gets back up on the apron, determined not to let this opportunity slip away, focused on picking up the victory in his first match. With Duran still down on the mat, Dante once again uses the top rope to his advantage, making it his own personal slingshot to re-enter the ring, and twisting his body enough degrees to slam into Duran with a slingshot senton. However, "Sick Boy" is STILL not done! Crane simply rolls to his feet and goes towards the opposite ropes from which he originally used to slingshot himself into, going to the middle rope and bouncing off of it, flipping backwards and landing on Duran once again with a springboard moonsault, finishing the sequence that is the Fell Swoop. The crowd explodes with cheers, anticipating that this could be the end of the match.

 

Stevens: "This has to be it! Xcalibur is still out on the outside, and Dante has to have this match won after that Fell Swoop!"

 

Riley: "No! It's too early! Duran HAS to kick out!"

 

After hitting the springboard moonsault, Crane stays on Duran's body and hooks the leg, as the referee falls to the mat to count the pinfall once again, the crowd in an electric state and counting along with the referee.

 

ONE...

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO...

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THREEEE!!! DANTE DID IT!

 

 

NO! WAIT, DURAN KICKED OUT! IT'S ONLY TWO!

 

The crowd groans in disbelief as Duran somehow manages to shoot a shoulder up just in time, avoiding being pinned by a fraction of a second. Crane seems a little disappointed, but keeps his resolve and his focus, as Dante gets to his feet, bending down and bringing Duran up with him. Meanwhile, on the outside, Xcalibur is showing the first signs of actual life in a long time in this match, and he doesn't look very pleased. Back in the ring, "Sick Boy" throws John into the ropes. On the rebound, Crane attempts a superkick, but Duran has the presence of mind to hook his arms around the ropes, stopping his momentum. Once Dante lands on both feet, realizing that the superkick didn't connect, he turns right into a BIG clothesline from "The Sinner." The crowd, once having cheered for their hero in this match in Dante Crane, now turn to boos as Duran seems to have taken control of the match. However, as he goes to bring Dante up so he can do some damage, Xcalibur comes out of nowhere, sliding in the ring and hitting Duran with right hands wildly.

 

Stevens: "Xcalibur is looking like a man possessed right now! He really wants this victory!"

 

Riley: "I'm torn, Mark! Duran is great, but so is Xcalibur! So many decisions!"

 

Xcalibur backs Duran into a corner, continuing to hit right hand after right hand, and finally bending down, picking up Duran and quickly putting him in the Tree of Woe before going to the opposite corner.

 

Stevens: "This does NOT look good for Duran..."

 

Xcalibur runs towards Duran, leaping just before the corner and extending his legs out.

 

"OOOH!"

 

X smashes his boots into John's face, nailing the running dropkick and making Duran fall out of the Tree of Woe, hitting the mat. Xcalibur is still running on all cylinders, however, as he brings Duran to his feet once again, bringing the dazed "Sinner" into the middle of the ring before planting a boot in his gut and doubling Duran over. Duran is in a sticky situation as X puts his leg over the back of John's head, grabbing Duran's near arm and quickly twisting around, slamming Duran's head in between Xcalibur's leg.

 

Stevens: "There it is! Houston Hurricane! There can only be one thing coming up next!"

 

Riley: "Dante better not ruin this!"

 

The crowd is giving a mixed reaction to Xcalibur as he brings Duran over towards the corner more, and then goes outside to the apron, going over to the turnbuckles and climbing up to the very top, looking down on Duran, who looks to be nice and out from the Houston Hurricane. With that, it's liftoff from Xcalibur. X flips backwards, going through all the motions of the shooting star press before extending out his leg.

 

BOOM!

 

Xcalibur's Revenge hits its mark, as X rolls off Duran, trying to regain himself enough to just put that arm over Duran and pin him. A second or two later, he does so, the crowd now giving a more negative response, hoping that Dante Crane can break this pinfall.

 

ONE...

 

 

 

 

 

Dante is getting to his feet!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO...

 

 

 

 

 

Dante is going to try to do it, will he make it in time?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

YES! HE DID DO IT! THE PIN IS BROKEN! TWO COUNT ONLY!

 

The fans cheer for Dante as he manages to break the pinfall, all three men now looking to be exhausted, Xcalibur apparently having spent all his energy in that rush to hit the Xcalibur's Revenge.

 

Stevens: "I don't believe this, Bobby! Xcalibur's Revenge was not enough! Dante saved the match! What is it going to TAKE?"

 

Riley: "Believe me, I'm sweating bullets here hoping that punk Dante doesn't win. Ugh, Goths."

 

All three men are on the mat near the corner, but all three are showing some signs of life. Duran doesn't seem much for making any directional movement, however, still feeling the effects of Xcalibur's Revenge. However, Dante and Xcalibur are both making it to their feet. As they both get to their feet at the same time, they begin an exchange of right hands, and the crowd heats up in an instant, getting into this match that appears to have devolved into a fight, if only for a moment. Xcalibur staggers Dante for a moment with a right hand, making him take a step back. X tries to use this to his advantage, attempting a spin kick, but Dante ducks it to the "Ooh"s of the crowd and hits a wicked spin kick of his own, taking X down to the mat. Dante then picks X back up to his feet, pointing towards the corner and throwing him into the corner, quickly bending down and picking X up, placing the southerner on the top turnbuckle and then doing a spin and coming out of nowhere with an uppercut right to the kisser of Xcalibur. Crane turns his back to Xcalibur, looking towards the opposite corner where Duran lays, and grabs Xcalibur's arms, putting them in an inverted crucifix position before using all of his force to flip Xcalibur off the top rope, falling down to the mat...

 

BOOM

 

Stevens: "Iconoclasm! Dante connects with the Iconoclasm!"

 

Riley: "No! Not this way!"

 

Dante goes to the apron and climbs up the turnbuckles to the very top, as it seems that we're about to see a second top-rope finisher. However, Duran is on his feet by the time Dante gets to the top turnbuckle, and for some reason, Duran goes over to Xcalibur, pulling him out of the range of Dante. Dante gives Duran a cold stare, and the crowd is unsure exactly what "The Sinner" is up to.

 

Riley: "Yes! More mind games! I thought Duran was going to crotch that freak on the top rope, but he decided to drag Xcalibur out of the way of The Cure! That's excellent!"

 

Stevens: "But why? Does he want a piece of Dante?"

 

Apparently he does, as Duran invites Dante to come down off the top turnbuckle and fight. Dante seems more than willing, stepping off the top turnbuckle and landing with both feet on the mat. Dante takes a few steps out of the corner towards the middle of the ring, but Duran seems all too willing to initiate the action, charging towards Crane. Dante is much too quick for Duran, however, dropping to the mat and catching "The Sinner" in a drop toehold before Duran even knows what hit him. Duran gets right back up to his feet and meets Dante as they both reach a vertical base, staring down each other once again. Duran once again goes after Dante, and pays for it as Dante bends down, grabbing Duran's arm and flipping Duran over him and to the mat with an arm drag. Duran is right back to his feet, however, and beginning to show serious signs of frustration with Crane. Dante is calm, cool, and collected however, and seems to be silently inviting Duran for more. Duran brings his boot up as if to kick Dante in the gut, but it's a fake out, as Dante tries to grab Duran's boot, Duran reaches out for Dante's head and the two have a brainstorming session as Duran connects with a headbutt. "Sick Boy" falls to the mat, and Duran calls for the end.

 

Stevens: "The Ultimate Sin? After a headbutt? Could this be more mind games, Bobby?"

 

Riley: "Are you kidding me? Did you not just see Duran call for the end? Because that's what this is, Grand Slam, it's the end, baby."

 

Duran bends down and brings Dante up to his feet, immediately putting him in a standing headscissors, much to the discontent of the crowd. Duran wraps his arms around Dante's waist and lifts up to place Crane on his shoulders, which he does. Duran attempts to place Dante's arms in a crucifix position...but Dante slips out of Duran's grasp! Duran, surprised, turns around as Dante spins around for a spinning wheel kick.

 

However, Duran dodges! Duran keeps Dante spinning, angrily kicking Dante in the gut again and putting him in a standing headscissors once again. Duran quickly repeats the process, wrapping his arms around Dante's waist and lifting him up, this time locking Dante's arms in the crucifix position, pushing Dante up in the air and grabbing his waist again, coming down to the mat.

 

BAM

 

Riley: "It's the Ultimate Sin! "

 

Stevens: "This could be it!"

 

Dante is sprawled out on the mat after the Ultimate Sin, and Duran, with Crane's legs still locked in his grasp, reaches his legs out, pinning the shoulders of "Sick Boy" down and yelling at the ref to count. The crowd is extremely displeased, overall, but a few fans of Duran count along as the ref counts.

 

ONE...

 

 

 

 

Stevens: "WAIT...Xcalibur is getting up! He's using the ropes for leverage! You can do it, Xcalibur! Keep this match going!"

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO...

 

 

 

 

 

 

Riley: "Why are you rooting for Xcalibur, this match is OVER!"

 

Xcalibur makes a dive for Duran, trying to knock him off...

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THREE!

 

And he's successful, but it's too late, as the referee hops up to call for the bell right as Xcalibur connects with a clubbing blow to Duran's head.

 

*DING DING DING*

 

Riley: "Yes! Yes!"

 

Duran is surprised by the blow from Xcalibur, but is more concerned with getting the hell out of the ring, and does so, rolling out as quickly as possible and avoiding the wrath of Xcalibur, who can't be too happy after losing.

 

Funyon: "Here is your winner...JOHN DURAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAN!"

 

Duran escapes around the ring and up the entryway, getting middle fingers from fans but raising his arms in victory just the same, no grin on his face, but rather a worn out look, a look that signifies just how close this match was. Xcalibur is hovering over Dante, and not looking very happy at all as Dante is still sprawled out on the mat.

 

Stevens: "What a close match, Riley! So many close falls, and Duran just BARELY pulled it off."

 

Riley: "No surprise there. Let the reign of Duran continue into the SWF!"

 

Stevens: "Well, you folks at home may be wondering what we have in store for you after this heated action to start us off, well, if you think that was good...you certainly haven't seen anything yet. In fact, our next match features four very solid workers. Let's look at these four men and their different paths to meet at Ground Zero."

 

Fade to the video package for the four-way match.

[Guest Suicide King]

As we come back to SWF Ground Zero, we find ourselves looking at a set that looks like someone bombed the original set. Scattered across the entrance and stage area are stylized jagged metal and concrete fragments, while a neon green light blankets the Omaha Civic Arena, casting an eerie tone as Linkin Park’s “Faint” blasts in the background. And sitting behind what looks to be the remnants of a half-destroyed announce table are “Grand Slam” Mark Stevens and Bobby Riley, who have forgone the usual tuxes for khakis and SWF polo shirts, because two guys in tuxes, surrounded by this scene of destruction, would look REALLY stupid.

 

Stevens: Welcome back to Omaha, Nebraska, the epicenter of SWF Ground Zero! The button has been pressed, so expect to be blown away by some of the best wrestling you’ve ever seen in your life! Joined by Bobby Riley, I’m “Grand Slam” Mark Stevens!

 

Riley: And I’m still trying to recover from the blinding horrificness of our last match!

 

Stevens: Come on, Bobby. It wasn’t that bad.

 

Riley: I just didn’t understand why those guys were fighting. How’d they book that one? On napkins at the Friendly Tap last night?

 

Stevens: It doesn’t matter, Bobby, but anyways, we’ve got one hell of a match next! It’s "Judge Mental" William Hearford versus Nathaniel Kibagami versus "The King of Nightmares" Michael Craven versus "The Sacred One" Andrew Blackwell for the chance to face the ICTV champion, and for the chance to cause a whole lot of pain to each other!!

 

Riley: These four guys have all turned it up a notch of late. Judge is hungering for a singles belt of his own after a long run as Tag Team champion, hoping Ejiro’s luck will rub off on him. Kibs has regressed to a level of brutality unseen in a long while, not since when he was known as Silent.

 

Stevens: Andrew Blackwell is eager to show that he is dominant, as any former World Champ should be. And Craven wants to shoot up the card, and just maybe get a little revenge for a certain Demonstar Driver...

 

Riley: I’m sure he does...

 

Stevens: The rules are simple. It’s a basic Elimination match. All four men start in the ring and can be eliminated by pinfall, countout, DQ, or submission. Last man standing gets his shot at Mak Francis for the prestigious SWF ICTV Championship, the last stop before the SWF World Championship!

 

Riley: I don’t think there’s a clear favorite right now in this match, because any of these four men could give Mak the fight of his life!

 

Stevens: It looks like we’re ready to start this match off, so let’s send it off to Funyon!

 

The crowd quiets down as the lights dim to a harsh red, and the drumbeats from beginning of Rage Against the Machine's "Testify" softly, slowly crescendoing up. The drumbeat gets louder and louder, and as the drum hits the cymbal there is a split second of silence before....

 

"NOW TESTIFY!"

 

The song skips to midway through and continues on as three sets of red pyros shoot up all across the stage, and Judge Mental appears on the entrance ramp. He walks down to the ring in a very precise and deliberate step, occasionally stopping to give a small taunt to the crowd as Funyon brings the mic to his lips, trying to speak over the loud boos that pour from the crowd like a waterfall of hatred.

 

Funyon: The following is a four-way elimination match to determine the #1 Contender to the SWF ICTV Championship!!! Introducing first, from Royal Oak, Michigan, weighing in at 242 pounds, he is a member of The Magnificent Seven... “THE JUDGE” WILLIAM HEARRRRRFORDDDDD!!!!!!

 

Judge slides into the ring, but as he does, his entrance video and music fade down, prompting him and the rest of the fans to turn towards the entrance. The television pictures begins to flutter, becoming fuzzy, and this continues while Andrew Blackwell’s voice is heard…

 

“There is nothing wrong with your television set… Do not attempt to adjust the picture…”

 

“I will control the horizontal. I will control the vertical.”

 

“I am controlling transmission…”

 

The picture returns to normal shortly after. Before Andrew Blackwell walks out, the lights recede, not into complete darkness, but very near to, and his music begins to play, softly, at the same time. Spotlights situated to the side of the ramp way, all along the side turn on Blackwell and follow him as he walks slowly before getting to ringside, the crowd booing him loudly as he stretches his arms wide, his God complex taking over once more.

 

Funyon: Introducing second; from Adelaide, Australia, weighing in at 228 pounds... “THE SACRED ONE” ANNNNDREW BLACKWELLLLLLL!!!

 

Blackwell climbs up into the ring confidently, stepping between the ropes as Stevens comments on the two men currently in the squared circle.

 

Stevens: Two very strong competitors in the ring right now, both looking to make that next big step up the ranks. Hearford is looking for his first singles title, while Blackwell is looking to once more rise to the top of the SWF.

 

Riley: And though a mach between these two would be just fine, we’ve still got two other strong competitors still to make their entrance!

 

Just then, the lights cut out, the majority of the crowd beginning 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

 

VelvetHammer.exe

TheSuperiorOne.exe

TheDoggah.exe

KingOfNightmares.exe

HellMachine.exe

Franchisable.exe

MaoriBadass.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 while the crowd hollers in disapproval.

 

Funyon: Introducing third, from Tampa, Florida, weighing in at 280 pounds... ladies and gentlemen... “The King Of Nightmares”... MICHAEL CRAAAAAAAVENNNNN!!!

 

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, walks across the ring to another turnbuckle, and repeats the whole thing before he hops down, turning to stare at the stage, no smile on his face.

 

Stevens: Michael Craven is a despicable man. He only cares for himself, and he sold himself to the devil when he started taking orders from King!

 

Riley: Don’t you drag your god-damn problems with King into this match, Mark. Just because you don’t get along with King doesn’t mean you can dislike Craven.

 

The arena goes completely dark, save for the SmarkTron, 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, the crowd going absolutely insane at this point.

 

Funyon: And from Phoenix, Arizona, weighing in at 268 pounds... NATHANIEL KIBAGAAAAAMIIIII!!!

 

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 dramatic effect, and turns back into the ring to face his opponents. Each one glares back at him and looks at the others, a look of intent in each man’s eyes. They each have their reasons for wanting to win, and are willing to do so, whatever the cost may be.

 

Stevens: This is a big and important match for all four men. A win by any of these men would be monumental for them. Any further comments, Bobby?

 

Riley: All I can say is this match is a match of contrasting styles. No two wrestlers here really have the same style, so it should be interesting to say the least.

 

Kibagami hops down, the four men converging in the center of the ring, still staring at each other. Referee Matthew Kivell squeezes his way in between the four men, explaining the rules to the competitors. As he finishes, the four still stare each other down, not moving their eyes from their glares.

 

Stevens: I can feel the tension building between these four men, and it looks like Matthew Kivell senses it, too, sending the men back to their respective corners to start the match!

 

As the four men are sent back to their corners by the ref, Kivell backs off, turning to the timekeeper, and signaling to him...

 

 

DING DING DING!!!

 

 

And all hell begins to break loose.

 

Craven charges Kibagami, who himself is charging at Craven, while Hearford and Blackwell tie-up. Judge and Silent struggle for control briefly before Judge wins out, forcing Blackwell into a wristlock as Craven and Kibagami take each other down with simultaneous clotheslines, both men’s bodies slamming into the mat! The Hearford wristlock does not stay on long, though, as Blackwell swings himself around, driving a knee into Judge’s gut, breaking the hold. Hearford staggers back just a little, but Sacred is all over him in a matter of seconds, firing off hard right jabs into the face of Justice. As this takes place, Craven and Kibagami pull themselves back onto their feet. However, as Craven rises, Kibagami jumps up, swingng his right foot around into Craven’s jaw, both men going down as the result of a quick gamengiri! Both men rise back up to their feet, where Kibagami catches Craven with a hard elbow strike, peppering him with a series of quick elbow strikes that hit in sync with Sacred’s jabs on Hearford.

 

Stevens: This match has gotten off to a fast and furious start! All four men going after each other, and the result is Kibagami and Blackwell currently beating down Craven and Hearford!

 

As Kibagami beats on Craven for the time at hand, Blackwell ends the assault on Hearford, only to hook one of The Judge’s arms, pulling him off his feet and flipping him onto his back with a quick arm drag. Hearford hits the mat, but both he and Blackwell spring back up, resulting in two hard jabs by Andrew before he grabs Judge’s arm and whips him to the ropes. Hearford hits the ropes, bouncing right back at Blackwell as he bends over. Judge is caught on Blackwell’s shoulder, Andrew uprighting himself to send Hearford flipping up and over before crashing down to the mat via a back body drop!

 

Stevens: And now an arm drag and back body drop from Andrew Blackwell, sending Judge to the mat!

 

Riley: Blackwell is looking very impressive right now as he continues to work on Hearford. Perhaps he’s back to his old form?

 

Stevens: We’ll see about that, Bobby.

 

Meanwhile, Craven finishes taking a pummeling from Nathan Kibagami, only to be grabbed by the arm and whipped into a corner as Judge is back body dropped. Kibagami charges in after him, attempting a body splash into the corner on Craven, but Mike ducks out of the way, causing Nathan to slam chest-first into the turnbuckle. Kibs bounces back out of it as Craven runs for the opposite ropes, running past Judge as he slowly rises off the mat while charging at Kibagami. Nathan staggers back towards Craven, allowing Craven the chance to grab him from behind in a headlock, dropping his face into the mat with a running bulldog!

 

Riley: Oooooh! Kibs missed the splash and ended up getting bulldogged for his troubles! That’s gotta suck for him!

 

Stevens: Indeed it must, as he was dominating Craven up to that point!

 

Riley: I wouldn’t call it dominating... I mean, he didn’t even knock Craven down once!

 

Kibagami’s head bounces off the mat, but the action shifts back to Blackwell and Judge for a moment as The Sacred One runs for the ropes, bouncing off them at the rising Hearford. Judge barely has time to look up before his face meets with Sacred’s forearm, Blackwell taking Judge back down with a running forearm smash! Hearford lands back-first on the mat, allowing Blackwell to cover him for the first pin-fall attempt of the match!

 

Stevens: Forearm smash from Sacred, and he’s got the first cover of the match on Judge!

 

Kivell drops to the mat to count:

 

 

One!

 

 

Kickout by Judge! Hearford’s not even close to done yet. However, before Judge can react, Andrew Blackwell grabs him, pulling him up onto his feet.

 

Stevens: Only one for Blackwell after that forearm smash!

 

Riley: Don’t expect Judge to go down to a freakin’ forearm smash. This guy’s harder than a rock, and Sacred’s gonna have to keep dropping him down if he expects to eliminate him!

 

As Blackwell lifts Judge onto his feet, Craven has pulled Kibagami to his, and is currently pummeling his head with right fists like a prizefighting boxer on a speed bag, much like he has been doing since he started pulling him up. Kibagami takes each blow as the punches come at longer and longer intervals, but Craven quickly catches him off guard with a knee lift into the ribs of Kibagami. Nathan doubles over, allowing Craven to grab him around the head and drop back into a DDT, planting the weakened neck of Nathan Kibagami into the mat!

 

Stevens: DDT from Michael Craven, going right for Nathan’s weak point, his neck! He tried to go for it during his last match with Kibs, and perhaps he feels he can work that neck down to nothing this time around!

 

As Kibagami hits the mat, Craven rolls him onto his back and covers him for a pinfall. Kivell drops to the mat to count:

 

 

One!

 

 

Kickout by Nathan! The crowd pops loudly for the kickout while Craven gets onto his knees and grabs Kibs, pulling him slowly back up onto his feet as Andrew Blackwell takes down a pulled-up Judge with a quick hip toss!

 

Stevens: A one-count for Craven following the DDT, followed by a hip toss from Andrew Blackwell on William Hearford!

 

Riley: But he’s going right after that neck, Kibagami’s weak spot! He knows he needs to strike there quickly!

 

As Craven pulls Kibagami up, he goes right to work on that neck, locking Kibagami in a front facelock and holding tight. Kibs drops down to his knees for a second, Craven yelling at him to get up. Kibs answers back, driving a fist into Craven’s ribs! Craven grunts, causing Kibagami to throw a second such blow to Craven’s ribs as he tries to break the hold. Craven grunts again, but before Kibs has a chance to throw a third punch, Craven grabs Nathan by the tights and flips him back into a snap suplex! Nathan’s back slams into the mat, but Craven holds onto his neck, pulling him back up in a front facelock as Judge rises from the hip toss, ducking a quick Andrew Blackwell hook on his way up. Hearford slides behind Blackwell, and as The Sacred One turns around, he leaps into the air, thrusting his boots into Sacred’s face! The dropkick knocks both men to the mat, and as they rise, Sacred staggers forward just enough to allow Judge to slide him onto his shoulders, flipping him over with a fireman’s carry!

 

Stevens: A quick counter from Judge, and Sacred hits the canvas for the first time in this match!

 

Riley: Don’t expect him to stay there too long, though. Sacred’s a former World Champion, and he should NOT be taken lightly!

 

As Judge rises to his feet, now slightly in control over Sacred, Craven pulls Nathan up, still in the front facelock, but not for long, as Craven spins around, Nathan and Mike back to back now as Craven sets Kibagami up for a neckbreaker, but just before Craven drops, Kibs pulls out of The King of Nightmares’ grasp, causing Craven to drop alone to the mat. He realizes Nathan has escaped too late for him to stop his body from falling, and as he hits the mat, he sits back up while Nathan runs for the ropes. Kibagami bounces off them at the sitting Craven, jumping at him as he flips and grabs Craven around the neck, whipping Craven’s neck forward, then back as he releases the running neck snap, landing on the mat in front of Mike as The Gulf Coast Hurricane falls back to the mat.

 

Stevens: Kibagami with a running neck snap, going after Craven’s neck almost a week after Craven took a Demonstar Driver! He’s gotta be hoping that Craven’s neck hasn’t fully healed yet! And personally, I don’t believe it has!

 

Riley: I saw him today backstage, and he looked fine! I don’t even know what you’re talking about, Mark.

 

While Craven hits the mat from the running neck snap, Judge grabs a recovering Blackwell, hitting him with two hard overhand blows before grabbing him in a front facelock and flipping him back into a snap suplex. Sacred lands on the mat, Judge releasing the hold as both men get to their feet, but as they get to their feet, Blackwell retaliates with a hard right jab! Judge takes the blow, but returns the favor, nailing Andrew with a hard right of his own! Andrew staggers back an inch or two as he loses his balance for the moment, but Judge hits him with two more such blows before grabbing his arm and whipping him to the ropes!

 

Stevens: Judge is using his superb reaction speed to an advantage here over Blackwell, and in doing so, is able to pull off moves like that, sending Blackwell to the ropes!

 

As this happens, while Craven lies on the mat, Kibagami turns himself around, moving a brief distance before he covers Craven, attempting to quickly eliminate The King of Nightmares:

 

One!

 

Craven gets the shoulder up! The crowd boos loudly, hoping for more from the quick move. In the meanwhile, Kibagami slides over Craven’s chest, sitting up from his knees before he draws his arms back and begins to pummel Craven across the face with mounted blows! The King of Nightmares cries out as the blows lash across his face, bringing his forearms up as he tries to block them. As Craven blocks the blows, Blackwell comes back from the ropes, Judge scopping him up across his chest before he spins and drops down, slamming Blackwell into the mat with an Irish whip powerslam!

 

Riley: This is madness! I can’t keep track of what’s going on!

 

Stevens: I know! Michael Craven just kicked out of a pin-fall attempt by Kibagami, and now, William Hearford’s trying to pin Sacred!

 

Kivell drops to the mat to now count for Judge as he pins Andrew to the mat...

 

One!

 

 

Tw-kickout from Blackwell! Judge recovers quickly, though, and grabs Blackwell, slowly peeling him off the mat while Kibagami stops his assault, instead getting to his feet as he grabs Craven and pulls him up.

 

Stevens: Just under two for The Judge, but I don’t think he’s quite done with Blackwell yet!

 

Riley: I sure hope not. When Judge gets hot, he’s practically unstoppable!

 

As both Judge and Kibagami rise to their feet, they grab Craven and Blackwell, both thinking the same as they Irish whip the other two. The only problem is that they whip Craven and Blackwell right into each other, knocking both men down to the mat. As The Sacred One and The King of Nightmares hit the mat, Kibagami charges in from behind with a clothesline destined for Craven, but instead, he ends up nailing Judge with it instead, knocking Justice down in the center of the ring! Craven and Blackwell slowly rise to their feet, but Craven gets there first, allowing him to knock Blackwell out of the way as he goes after Kibagami, grabbing him in a waistlock from behind. Sacred, though knocked back, rises to his feet as Kibagami elbows Craven in the face causing him to stagger back... right into Blackwell’s arms as he waistlocks him and lifts him up before dropping back, German suplexing Craven! Blackwell holds on for the bridge, but before Kivell can drop to the mat, Kibagami breaks the bridge with a hard stomp to Blackwell’s chest, as he wants to personally eliminate Craven himself. Blackwell and Craven collapse to the mat, but as they do, Hearford rises up behind Kibagami, looking for payback from that clothesline.

 

Stevens: Uh-oh... I think Judge wasn’t happy about that clothesline...

 

Riley: You better believe he’s pissed! He practically got cheap-shotted by Kibagami, and he wants revenge!

 

While Kibs waits as Craven and Blackwell to rise, Judge gets behind Nathan, waistlocking him before he drops back and slams Kibagami on his neck with a German suplex! Hearford releases as Nathan hits the mat, but as Kibagami falls, Blackwell rises, giving him another target to hit as he climbs back up. Blackwell can’t do much to stop Judge as draws his arm back...

 

 

“SLAP!”

 

 

... swinging it out into a hard slap across the chest!

 

Crowd: WOOOOO!!!

 

Judge smiles as he draws his arm back, slapping Sacred across the chest with another hard chop!

 

“SLAP!”

 

Crowd: WOOOOO!!!

 

Blackwell staggers back just a little, but Judge is unrelenting as he lashes out with a third hard chop across the chest!

 

“SLAP!”

 

Crowd: WOOOOO!!!

 

Riley: Listen to those beautfiul chops, Mark! Those sound like they hurt!

 

And they seem to, the last one enough to cause Blackwell to double over momentarily, but that’s enough for Judge to grab Andrew in a front facelock, dropping back and dropping Sacred on his head with a DDT!

 

Stevens: DDT on Blackwell from Judge, and here comes Craven back up onto his feet! I don’t think he knows what’s going on right now!

 

Riley: Unfortunately, he’s about to find out real fast...

 

True to Stevens’ word, Craven is up on his feet, and he does look dazed. Hearford, recovering from the DDT he hit on Sacred, rises to his feet, and seeing the staggering Craven, intercepts his path. Craven staggers right into Judge’s open arms, where he is waistlocked from the front, and with all the strength he has, Judge lifts Craven up into the air, releasing him as he throws him into a release belly-to-belly suplex! Michael slams into the mat, his head whipping back into the canvas, leaving him grounded while Judge recovers. Getting back onto his feet, he notices Craven lying on the mat, and reacting appropriately, moves to cover him, hooking his leg while he waits for Kivell to begin the count.

 

Stevens: Belly-to-belly suplex from Judge, sending Craven to the mat! Hearford’s going for the pin, but can he really eliminate Craven with just that? Here’s the count!

 

 

One!

 

 

Two!

 

 

Craven kicks out! The crowd boos, hoping that Hearford could have eliminated Craven from the match. As this takes place, though, Andrew Blackwell, recovering from the DDT he took at Judge’s hands, rises back to his feet, rubbing his neck while he watches Judge’s every movement.

 

Stevens: Craven kicks out after two! Judge might not be happy with that count!

 

Riley: And Andrew Blackwell doesn’t look too happy with Judge DDTing him into the mat!

 

As Hearford rises, Sacred moves towards him and attacks, hitting Judge with a hard left hook. Hearford nearly falls over, stunned from the blow as he staggers back, but Blackwell hits him with another such hook, sending him staggering back to the ropes. Judge hits the ropes, his body resting up against them, but Blackwell grabs Judge by the arm, whipping him to the opposite ropes! Judge stops, however, and with a quick switcheroo, reverses the whip, sending Blackwell towards the ropes! Judge, though, holds onto Andrew’s arm, and as he passes, steps behind him, pulling the arm, to stop Blackwell so he can reach under Sacred’s arms, hooking them. Once that has happened, Blackwell is whipped over fast and dropped almost directly on his head, taken down with a powerful full nelson suplex from Judge! Bobby Riley cringes as the crowd and Mark Stevens leap out of their seats when they witness the move, Hearford holding on as he bridges back, pinning Blackwell’s shoulders to the mat!

 

 

 

 

One!!

 

 

 

 

 

Two!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THR-Craven barely breaks up the bridge with a diving elbow drop! All three men collapse to the mat, but Craven slowly rises first, backing off a few feet and stalking Judge, watching him get to his feet while the crowd boos at The King of Nightmares, who ignores their jeers, focused solely on Judge.

 

Stevens: CRAVEN BREAKS THE PIN! I think Judge had Blackwell eliminated with that HARD full nelson suplex!

 

Riley: Did you hear the sound of that thing? It was awesome! I’d be surprised if Blackwell can still walk after that one!

 

Stevens: You’re taking pleasure in other’s pain? That’s awful sick o you, Bobby.

 

Riley: You got a problem with it? Tough.

 

As Judge gets to his feet, the stalking Craven swings at him, trying for a hard forearm smash, but Judge ducks, sliding behind Craven. Craven spins back around to face Hearford, allowing Judge his arm wrapping around her head and what happens next happens all so fast: Judge falls himself forward, still holding Craven’s head as he lands on his back, dropping Mike’s head down onto the mat with a Diamond Cutter so powerful, the force of the blow flips Craven onto his back as Judge releases the lock on Mike’s head!!!

 

Stevens: SURPRISE WITNESS!!! JUDGE JUST HIT CRAVEN WITH HIS FINISHER! If he covers him, Craven’s out of it!

 

Craven lies on the mat, his left arm the only part of his body moving as Judge flips himself over, crawling across the canvas and on top of Craven’s body. He reaches over, hooking Craven’s leg as Kivell drops to the mat, the Craven Section going into a tizzy as the count begins on their hero.

 

Stevens: Cover!!! Cover on Craven!!!

 

 

ONE!!!!

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THREE!!!

 

 

 

 

NO!!! A RECOVERED KIBAGAMI BREAKS IT UP AT THE LAST SECOND WITH AN ELBOW DROP ACROSS JUDGE’S NECK! The crowd pops like crazy at the sight of Kibagami, who grabs Judge as he tires to get up from the pin and pulls him to his feet. Meanwhile, Craven takes the time to slowly roll over onto the apron, where he can recover without the danger of being pinned by any of the other three men, and Blackwell tries to sit back up after the full nelson suplex, but is not having much luck at it.

 

Stevens: KIBAGAMI BREAKS THE COUNT! Craven’s still down on the mat, but Kibs may have just saved his rival from being eliminated!

 

Riley: Normally, I’d be against Kibs pulling a stunt like that, but at least Craven’s still in this one!

 

Stevens: I think, no, I know now that Nathan wants to eliminate Craven himself, possibly to prove a point ot the King of Nightmares!

 

As he is pulled up, Judge is hammered under a barrage of quick knees to the chest and face from Kibagami as he pulls him up, the crowd chanting along while Nathan alternates between the two spots:

 

Crowd: Let’s go, Kibs! Let’s go, Kibs!

 

Nathan continues to knee Judge in the chest and face, looking around for the body of Craven as well, but as he takes his eye off Hearford, Judge suddenly catches one of Nathan’s knees to his chest and uprights himself. Wasting no time, Hearford hooks the knee of that leg as he spins, pulling Kibagami off his feet with a dragon screw leg whip! Nathan slams hard into the mat, his head whipping back into the canvas, but both he and Judge slowly recover, rising slowly off the mat as the crowd continues their chant of support for Kibagami. As Judge and Kibs rise up, Hearford quickly makes his move. He steps to one side of Kibagami and wraps one arm around Nathan’s neck while stepping in front of the nearest leg of Kibagami and hooking it. Hearford then falls back and sweeps out Nathan's legs, dropping him to the mat and wrenching his neck with a Russian leg sweep!

 

Riley: YES! Russian leg sweep on Kibagami! He’s got him don on the mat!

 

Stevens: Judge dropped Nathan down on his vulnerable neck again with a pretty big move, and he’s not moving too fast to cover him. He’s starting to tire down as he take son all three other competitors, and I don’t know if he’s got it left in him to pin-

 

Riley: Wait! Judge is rolling over! Cover on Kibs! Silent’s done for now!

 

The crowd watches on in a tense silence as Kivell counts loudly:

 

 

 

One!!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

Two!!!

 

 

 

 

 

THR-Kickout at the last second by Kibagami! Judge seems a little daunted by the kickout, but he recovers and slowly rises up, pulling Kibs up with him, and boy, do we mean slowly. His breath is heavy as he slips once before rising to his feet, still holding onto Kibs. He stalls for a second, but no sooner has he stalled than is he grabbing Kibagami around the head, hooking Kibagami’s leg, and slowly lifting him into the air, falls backwards, both men slamming down onto the mat into a fisherman’s suplex!!!

 

Riley: Fistherman’s suplex from Judge! This has got to be it! Kibs is going down for sure!

 

Judge holds on, pinning Nathan to the mat, forcing Kivell to make the count again:

 

 

One!!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

Two!!!

 

 

 

 

 

THREE-Kickout at the last second by Kibagami again! The crowd pops loudly, happy to see that Nathan is still alive in ths match, while Judge looks more than just a little frustrated with Kivell’s refereeing, feelig he had Kibs down for three. As he gets up, he seems agitated at the ref, looking at Matthew, and asking him first through his facial expressions, then his voice, “What’s the deal with the count, Kivell?”

 

Stevens: Judge alomst had Kibagami eliminated, but Nathan kicked out, and now Judge is horribly pissed off at Kivell, whom he blames for making a slow count!

 

Riley: And he should be! He got screwed out of eliminating Kibagami! I’m sure that wouldn’t sit well with Craven, but he could have knocked one of the SWF’s toughest wrestlers out of the match!

[Guest Suicide King]

As both men slowly get to their feet, Judge reaches out and touches a rising Kibagami, firing off two quick right hands before grabbing his arm, and as he pulls him up, Irish Whips Nathan to the ropes. Kibs flies at him and bounces back, but ducks down as Hearford swings forward, attempting a powerful lariat. Nathan throws on the brakes, spins around, and catches Judge from behind, locking both is arm up against the side of his head and whipping Judge back, executing a perfect dragon suplex! As if that wasn’t enough, Kibagami rolls through onto his feet, still holding onto Judge’s arms as he whips Judge back into another dragon suplex! The two suplexes result in double the neck droppage on Judge, but Kibagami rolls through that one, albeit slower, and as he gets to his feet this time, briefly pauses before he drops Judge on his neck, releasing him on a third dragon suplex that sends Hearford neck-first into the mat! The crowd, not having seen this move on a regular basis, reacts with the only thing that comes to mind:

 

Crowd: Ho-ly shit! Ho-ly shit!

 

Stevens: Kibagami is Chasing The Dragon, and Judge is feeling the effects of it!

 

Riley: That looked painful! I’m not sure what’s worse: taking three dragon suplexes in a row, or three piledrivers in a row!

 

Kibagami hits the mat after the third suplex, but before he can do anything, a risen Andrew Blackwell drives a boot up into Nathan’s chest, driving him off the mat and flipping him over before he lands on the mat again, Blackwell still grabbing his neck from the full nelson suplex he took earlier. Meanwhile, another face has climbed into the ring, noticing the staggering, neck-clutching Hearford, and as he himself recovers, he boots Judge in the chest, grabbing the doubled-over Judge around the head and arm before dropping back and body scissoring Hearford’s torso, a guillotine clutch locked on Judge compliments of one King of Nightmares.

 

Riley: He’s got it locked in! He’s got the Craven Clutch locked in! It’s payback time for Craven!

 

 

He reaches out for the ropes with his free arm, waving it in the air as if hoping to magically pull the ropes towards him, Craven taunting and screaming at Hearford to tap out, thrown into a vengeful rage after taking that Diamond Cutter and nearly being eliminated. His muscles tense and strain as he reaches out, his neck throbbing in pain, but the ropes, the only thing he can do to save himself right now, are in front of him, and he continues to reach out until he’s about to lose it. At that point, he can barely see his fingertips as he looks out of the corner of his eye as Craven beckons him to give up, and reaching, brings his arm up, swinging at the ropes, his fingertips longing to feel something as he swings is arm down... down towards the ropes...

 

 

 

 

 

...

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

...

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“TAP TAP TAP!!”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

...but the ropes are not close enough.

 

Stevens: THAT’S IT! HEARFORD IS GONE! Michael Craven, enraged after he got a Surprise Witness from The Judge, goes right after his neck, which he was grabbing in pain, and locks in the Craven Clutch to make him the first elimination in this match-up!

 

Craven releases his grasp on Hearford while Blackwell grabs Kibagami, slowly pulling him up onto his feet. As he drags up Kibagami, he fires off hard right overhand punches into Nathan’s face at random intervals, trying to soften up his neck/head for later on. Once pulled to his feet, Kibagami is grabbed around the neck by Blackwell and whipped over his shoulder, landing in a sitting-up position on the mat after being snap mared by Sacred. Andrew is now easily able to grab Nathan around the head with both arms, transitioning in a sleeper hold on Kibagami’s neck!

 

Riley: Yes! Sleeper hold on Kibagami! He’s done for! He won’t last long with such a painful hold on his neck

 

Blackwell holds on as Craven pulls himself up on the ropes, Kibagami trying to find a way out of the hold as the crowd encourgaes him on:

 

Crowd: Let’s go, Kibs! Let’s go, Kibs!

 

Stevens: The crowd seems to think otherwise, Bobby, and they’re trying to get Nathan back into this match!

 

Kibagami has both arms free, allowing him to push off against the mat, using his size to his advantage as he begins to force himself up against the slightly smaller Blackwell. Sacred tries to force him back down, but he has little success at doing so, resulting in Nathan being alboe to get to his feet, but now in a standing sleeper. The crowd continues their chant as Kibagami draws a free arm forward, slamming an elbow back into Blackwell’s ribcage! The crowd pops as Blackwell cries out, but holds on, forcing Kibagami to once again throw an elbow into Blackwell’s ribs. The second elbow also draws a pop and distracts Sacred just enough so that the hold slightly loosens, allowing Nathan to break free of the sleeper to a tremendous pop! He runs for the ropes as Blackwell staggers back just a little, bouncing back at the former World champion with hopes of taking him down, but those hopes are denied as Blackwell regains his composure just in time to catch Kibagami with a flipping dropkick to the face! Hit with the blow, Kibagami falls to the mat, slowly rising back up as Blackwell falls from the dropkick, but he staggers backwards towards the rising Craven, who knees him in the back as he pulls himself to his feet, quickly grabbing him around the head in a reverse facelock. With Nathan in the right position, Craven spins and sits down, slamming Kibs’ head off his shoulder with the Roll of The Dice!

 

Riley: Roll of the Dice!!! Craven hit Kibagami with the Roll of the Dice! If he can pin him, it’s over!

 

The crowd watches on, booing loudly as Craven releases Kibagami, rolling him over and hooking his leg. They boo even louder as Kivell counts over them:

 

 

 

One!!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Two!!!

 

 

 

 

 

THR-Kickout at the last second by Kibagami! Another close call for Silent results in Michael Craven complaining the Kivell on his officiating, namely his counts, but Kivell answers that Kibagami kicked out just before three, and that his decision is final.

 

Stevens: And Craven once again is unable to keep Kibagami down for three! This has got to be getting frustrating for him, and it looks like it as he’s getting into a war of words with Referee Matthew Kivell

 

Riley: He’ll get him, Mark, just wait and see. There’s no way Kibagami can keep taking this punishment to his neck and get up after it!

 

And get up after the move he doesn’t. However, he is grabbed by not Craven, but Andrew Blackwell, and pulled to his feet as Craven climbs up onto his. Blackwell grabs hold of Kibagami’s forehead, pounding him with a few slow overhand punches as Craven climbs to his feet, but rather than jump at both men and take them down, Craven instead throws a knee into Kibagami’s gut, joining Blackwell for a double team beatdown as the crowd boos loudly. Eventually, after a few more seconds of battering Kibagami, Craven and Blackwell both grab one of his arms and, with a tug and push, whip him to the ropes, Kibagami flying across the ring back at the two men, who are hunched down for a double team move. Nathan hits them, but not as they expected as he leaps at the King of Nightmares with an arm extended, Kibagami knocking Craven down with a diving forearm to the head that sends both men to the mat while the crowd cheers once again!

 

Stevens: Craven’s down! Kibagami sends Craven down with a forearm! Could this be the spark he needs to get back into this match?

 

Kibagami rises back up to his feet, once again trying to gain the momentum he needs to rurn this match around, but his momentum suddenly evaporates as Blackwell nails him in the abdomen with a boot. Kibagami doubles over for only a second, but that’s long enough for Blackwell to slap on a front facelock with his left arm, the crowd suddenly realizing what’s going to come next. Almost on cue, Blackwell lifts his left leg up into the air, and in the blink of an eye, swings it back, falling forward into the mat and driving Kibagami’s face, head, and neck into the canvas with a one-of-a-kind fornt face DDT, the best the move can be described as, while Riley jumps out of his seat, rejoicing at the sight of Nathan Kibagami going down to the-

 

Stevens: CRUEL FATE!!! KIBAGAMI JUST GOT NAILED WITH THE CRUEL FATE, BLACKWELL’S TIME HONOURED FINISHER!!! IT’S GOING TO BE BLACKWELL AND CRAVEN FIGHTING FOR A SHOT AT THE ICTV TITLE IF HE CAN PIN HIM!!!

 

Riley: It’s all over for Kibagami now! Blackwell just hit him with the strongest move he’s got! He’s not going to kick out of this one for sure!

 

As Nathan lies on the mat, Blackwell slowly rolls him over, Kibagami still not moving as Sacred hooks his leg, Kivell dropping to make the count the audience doesn’t want to see...

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

ONE!!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THREE!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

NO!!! CRAVEN ELBOW DROPS BLACKWELL, BREAKING THE PIN HE HAS ON KIBAGAMI AT THE LAST POSSIBLE SECOND! The unexpected turn of events, with Craven and Blackwell just having worked together can be best esasily explained by the obvious: Craven wants revenge on Kibagami for the Demonstar Driver and resulting neck problems he’s recently had, and he’s not going to let anyone eliminate Kibs while he’s in that ring.

 

Stevens: I DON’T BELIEVE IT!!! CRAVEN BARELY BROKE THAT PIN UP! HE HAD KIBAGAMI DOWN FOR THREE!!!

 

Riley: Blackwell crossed the line, Mark. He could beat up Kibagami, it seems, but if he tried to eliminate him, Craven would have none of that, because he wants his revenge!

 

Craven rises to his feet, grabbing Andrew Blackwell by his head and pulling up onto his feet. Once there, Craven goes into angry rage mode, lashing out with several kicks aimed at random points on Sacred’s upper body, which Blackwell is all but forced to take, given his current situation. Craven backs off, still holding onto Sacred, and winds up for a bigger kic, but as he swings it up into Blackwell’s chest, he catches it, slowly uprighting himself. Mike, though, leaps off his other foot, swinging it around into an enziguri into Andrew’s face as the Craven Section cheers for their favorite wrestler. Both men collapse to the mat and are slow to rise, the sweat beading off their faces, but as they do, Mike grabs Sacred by the arm, and with a tug, whips him to the opposite ropes!

 

Riley: And now, we’re about to see what happens when you try to mess with Michael Craven’s plans!

 

Craven watches as Blackwell comes back from the ropes, and as he gets closer, he charges, reaching down as he begins to wind up for his high power forearm smash, but Andrew cancels his plans, leaping into the air as Craven brings his arm up and taking Mike down with a leg lariat off the ropes! Both men fall to the canvas, remaining there for several seconds before Blackwell rises to his feet slowly, but he is startled by what he sees: Nathan Kibagami slowly trying to get to his feet after the Cruel Fate. However, Kibagami is not having very much luck at it, barely even able to try and get up right now as he struggles along, one hand on his neck while the other is on the mat pushing up slowly and nearly falling back down several times. Blackwell senses opportunity though, and as he gets to his feet, he satggers forward, the stagger turning slowly into a run as he runs for the ropes behind Kibagami. Hitting them, he flies back at Nathan, who has managed to push himself onto his knees, but Blackwell grabs him around the head in a 3/4 facelock as he passes, and dropping, hits Kibagami with a hard running Diamond Cutter, both men going down as a pulse of aggrivating pain runs through Kibagami’s neck again, causing him to cry out loudly as he hits the mat!

 

Stevens: RKO from Andrew Blackwell! Kibagami’s got to be done if Sacred can pin him!

 

Riley: But what does the R in RKO stand for in Blackwell’s case? Running? Reverse? Or maybe he named it after me!

 

Stevens: I don’t think anyone would have a move called the Riley KO, Bobby, because the only you could knock out is-

 

Riley: Cut the crap and just watch the match, Mark.

 

Kibagami rolls over as he hits the mat, once again downed by a big move from Blackwell, but as Blackwell crawls over to cover Kibagami and eliminate him, he suddenly stops, his head being pulled back by a partially recovered Michael Craven, who purposely keeps Blackwell from having the opportunity to cover Kibagami, wanting that honor for himself. Still holding onto Blackwell, he pulls him up onto his feet, punching him as he pulls him up.

 

Stevens: Michael Craven doesn’t look the least bit amused about Blackwell trying to eliminate Kibagami himself.

 

Riley: The guy is hell bent on revenge against Silent, and he wants to make sure he gets it! Can’t say I blame him for trying!

 

Once on his feet, the assault on Blackwell stops, but instead, his arm is grabbed, craven whipping him to the ropes. Or so it seems. As Blackwell passes by, Craven holds on, yanking the Aussie back towards him. He thursts his other arm out, attempting a clothesline, but Sacred ducks, grabbing Craven across his body as he passes by his side. He holds on, lifting with some of the strength he has left, and letting gravity do the rest as he slams Craven down with a Book End, both men crashing to the mat, resulting in Sacred bouncing onto his back after impact!

 

Stevens: SPANISH INQUISTION ON CRAVEN! The King of Nightmares is down, and maybe, he’s about to be out!

 

The crowd watches on as Sacred rolls over and covers Craven following the slam, forcing Kivell to drop to his knees and count while the Craven Section yells at their favortie wrestler to kick out:

 

 

 

 

 

ONE!!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THRE-Craven barely gets the shoulder up on Blackwell! The crowd boos while the Craven Section breathes a collective sigh of relief, their hero still in this match.

 

Stevens: NO! No three-count for Blackwell, and Craven is still alive in the match!

 

Riley: Thank God! Can you imagine how the crowd would react to Craven being eliminated right now?

 

Stevens: With much rejoicing and thanks?

 

As Riley frowns at Stevens’ comment, Andrew grabs Mike, slowly pulling him up onto his feet, but as he does, Craven grabs him behind the head. Blackwell doesn’t notice it or care, feeling that Craven is only trying to pull himself up, until Craven sits down, executing a sitdown jawbreaker! Craven releases his grip on Andrew, resulting in Blackwell bouncing onto his back, slowly getting up, a little stunned by the jawbreaker. He grabs his jaw as he stutter steps forward, only to be cut off by a Craven kick to the gut. Blackwell doubles over, allowing Craven to grab him around the head in a front facelock. This is followed by Craven using his strength to lift Blackwell off the mat just a little, enough to get him into the air as he drops back, Sacred crashing head-first into the mat from the resulting inverted DDT!

 

Riley: BOOM! That’s it! Blackwell’s got to be done after that!

 

Blackwell rolls off to the side as Craven releases him, allowing Craven the ease of flaling over to a side, hooking Sacred’s leg. The crowd sits, watching in anticipation as the ref begins to count:

 

 

 

 

 

 

ONE!!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THREE-Blackwell barely gets the shoulder up on Craven! The King of Nightmares can’t believe it! He knew that the match should have ended by now, and that it should be just him and Kibs, but unfortunately for Craven, he’s got to pick Blackwell up and put him down with something stronger.

 

Stevens: And Craven cannot keep Blackwell down either, much he couldn’t with Kibagami! Sacred wants this win too much to let Craven or Kibagami win!

 

Riley: Blackwell’s got his own reasons to win. He wants this to show everyone that he’s still the most dangerous man in the SWF! Even more so than Thoth or Strangler!

 

Stevens: I wouldn’t say more dangerous, Bobby, but definitely just as dangerous.

 

Riley: Oh, shut up. What do you know that I don’t?

 

Stevens: Everything.

 

Craven slowly gets to his feet, grabbing Blackwell, and pulling him back up, nails him with two hard overhand blows before he grabs his arm and whips him to the ropes! Blackwell do-si-dos, though, causing Craven to now become the whippee, The King of Nightmares headed for the ropes. Craven hits them, but he doesn’t fly back off them. Instead, he grabs on with both arms, keeping himself from flying back to whatever Blackwell has planned for him. Andrew, frustrated about Craven’s actions, gives up hope of him coming back from the ropes as he sees him grab them, instead opting to charge at Craven head on with a new battle plan, a battle plan that we never get to see when Craven releases the ropes and jumps into the air, dropkicking Sacred as he runs towards him! Blackwell hits the mat hard and slowly gets to his feet, staggering back...

 

 

 

 

 

 

...back...

 

 

 

 

 

 

...back...

 

 

 

 

 

...back into Nathan Kibagami! Kibs, who is still dazed and hurting from the RKO and Cruel Fate, grabs Blackwell before he can escape his clutches, lifting him briefly up into a crucifix position as he recovers before he drops him forward. Kibagami simultaneously sits down, slamming Blackwell to the mat with a high-angle crucifix powerbomb!

 

Stevens: ROUGH REDEMPTION!!! ROUGH REDEMPTION ON BLACKWELL!!! SACRED IS ON THE MAT, AND KIBAGAMI HAS HIM RIGHT WHERE HE NEEDS HIM! HIS SHOULDERS ARE ON THE MAT, AND HERE’S THE COUNT FROM KIVELL!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

ONE!!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THREE!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Riley: I don’t believe it...

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Stevens: BLACKWELL IS GONE!!! ANDREW BLACKWELL GOES DOWN TO THE ROUGH REDEMPTION! It’s just Kibagami and Craven in the ring now, and we’re about to see hell on earth in the middle of that ring!

 

Kibagami breathes in deeply as he rolls Blackwell’s legs off his shoulders, but as he does, Michael Craven jumps him from behind, smashing his forearm into the back of Kibagami’s neck to send him tumbling forward to the mat. As Nathan lands on the mat, he instinctively rolls onto his back to shield his neck from further attack by Craven, but The King of Nightmares crawls on top of Kibagami, pinning his arms down to the mat with his knees as he draws his arms up and pounds away at Kibagami’s face with hard rights and lefts. With his arms pinned down, Nathan cannot shield his face from the assault, forced to take each stinging blow to the face until he can find means of escape. Craven smiles as the blows rain down like monsoon rains, vengeance the only thing running through his dark mind and cold hear; vengeance being pumped through every vein and artery in his body; vengeance for what Kibagami did to him what he desires more than anything at this moment.

 

Stevens: Craven’s mauling Nathan Kibagami right from the start of this one-on-one match-up! He’s trying to crack Kibagami’s skull in two!

 

Riley: I hope he does!

 

As Craven continues to pummel Kibagami, the answer Kibs desires comes to mind. Bringing his legs together, Nathan draws his knees up, swinging then towards his chest and into Craven’s back. Normally, the knees would do nothing, but in Craven’s state of exhaustion, which is no worse than Nathan’s, he is knocked off balance, falling forward to the mat and forced to break the pin he has on Kibagami’s arms, both men slowly rising to their feet after the break. As they do Kibagami swings his arm around, attempting an elbow strike at Craven’s head, but it never hits as Mike pulls his head back. Kibs spins around a little, but just enough for Craven to grab him from behind, lift him onto his shoulder, and backdrop him into the mat, taking both men down for several seconds afterwards!

 

Riley: Ouch! That one had to hurt!

 

Stevens: Big backdrop from Craven, but no cover from The King of Nightmares! Does he have something more sinister planned? What is he thinking as he rises off the mat once again?

 

Riley: I think we’re about to find out!

 

As Craven rises up, Nathan Kibagami recovers slowly from the backdrop. Worn down and extremely tired, he crawls to his feet, staggering forward, barely able to walk. A risen Craven, though, grabs him as he gets up, hooking his arms as he bends him over, setting him up for something that shocks everyone in the arena: The Demonstar Driver!

 

Riley: Oh my God! He’s gonna do it!

 

Stevens: A Demonstar Driver from Craven?!?! Is this what the King of Nightmares wants to do so badly?!?! Cripple Kibagami?!?!

 

With the arms hooked, Craven lifts Nathan up, but instead of lifting him straight up, hauls him onto his shoulders, grabbing Kibagami’s legs. The crowd boos at Craven’s deception, but The King of Nightmares quickly silences them as he stabilizes himself, and once that is done, he runs halfway across the ring, not at a sprint, but a good speed, beforejumping up and throwing Nathan down into a running powerbomb! Kibagami slams hard into the canvas, sending chills down the spines of the spectators as both men hit the mat, Craven holding onto Kibagami’s legs while his shoulders lie on the mat.

 

Stevens: Running powerbomb from Craven! He fooled everyone into thinking he was going for a Demonstar Driver! And now he’s got Kibagami pinned to the mat! Could this be enough?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

ONE!!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THREE-NO! KIBAGAMI KICKS OUT! Craven can’t believe it, almost in shock, knowing that he had Kibagami down for three, but that the count was slow, and he yells at Kivell while grabbing Kibagami by the head and slowly rising up.

 

Stevens: NO! Once again, Craven is denied the three-count, and he doesn’t seem happy! He wants to make sure that next time he does it, it’s for sure!

 

As he slowly rises up, Craven slowly pulls Kibagami up, and grabbing his arm, whips him hard to the ropes. Kibs flies at the ropes, hitting them and flying back at Craven, who ducks down, sliding Kibagami onto his shoulders. Before he can do anything with him, though, Kibagami swings his legs off Craven’s shoulders grabbing him around the head and arm with his arms, dropping back and slamming Craven onto his head with a reverse dragon DDT! Both men hit the mat hard, remaining there for quite some time as the commentators jump all over the situation.

 

Stevens: REVERSE DRAGON DDT! Both men are down! What a counter from Nathan Kibagami! Craven’s barely moving, but Kibagami seems to be rising to his feet again!

 

Riley: Look how slow h’es getting up!! Stop overhyping him, Mark! He’s in just as much pain and just as tired as Craven, and you know it!

 

Slowly, Craven sits up as Nathan gets to his feet, grabbing his neck and crying in pain while allowing Kibagami the opportunity to slowly run back and hit the ropes, still recovering from that camel clutch as he leaps into the air upon return, swinging his knee into the side of Craven’s head, sending Mike to the mat in a hurry as the sound of knee hitting skull echoes through the arena!

 

Riley: SHINING WIZZZAHHHHHHHH!!!

 

Stevens: Shining Wizard from Kibagami to Craven! Craven is down once again!

 

As Craven hits the mat, Kibagami falls as well, both men landing hard on the canvas, but Nathan slowly crawls on top of the Gulf Coast Hurricane, hooking his leg as Kivell drops to the mat to make the count!

 

Stevens: COVER! This has to be it! Here’s the count!

 

ONE!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THREE-KICKOUT BARELY BY CRAVEN!!! The crowd boos as Kibagami cups his face with his hands, unable to believe that Craven managed to kickout of the hard blow!

 

Stevens: SO CLOSE! I THOUGHT KIBAGAMI HAD HIM FOR SURE THAT TIME!!!

 

Kibagami sits up following his pin-fall attempt, slowly pushing himself up off the mat as Craven attempts to sit up, but falls back down. Kibagami, though, assists Craven to his feet roughly, grabbing him by the head and pulling him up. Now facing Craven, Kibagami cracks him across the face with a hard right elbow strike, following up with a hard left to the neck! Craven cries out, grabbing the right side of his neck, but Kibagami hits him in the left side of his neck with a right elbow smash! Craven fades back, but Kibs catches him by the arm, giving him a hard tug and whipping him into a corner! Craven hits the corner hard and staggers out, looking up, right into Nathan Kibagami’s boot. Craven begins to mouth “Oh shit!”, but the yakuza kick hits him before he can finish, dropping him hard to the canvas!

 

Stevens: YAKUZA KICK ON CRAVEN! HE’S DOWN HARD! KIBAGAMI’S GOING FOR A COVER, AND HERE’S THE COUNT!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

ONE!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THREE!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

KICKOUT BARELY BY CRAVEN!!!

 

Stevens: OH MY GOD!!! CRAVEN KICKS OUT!!! CRAVEN KICKS OUT AT TWO AND NINETY-NINE ONE-HUNDREDTHS!!!!! THAT WAS THE ABSOLUTE LAST MOMENT HE COULD HAVE GOTTEN OUT!!! I THOUGHT NATHAN HAD HIM FOR SURE!!!

 

Nathan is in the same state of shock as as the fans in the arena, who all stand with dropped jaws. Kibagami’s hands graps the sides of his face as he sits there in a dazed disbelief.

 

Stevens: How did Craven kick out? How did he do it?

 

Riley: I have no idea! But I think that was the last of his energy! He can’t be able to do much more!

 

Kibagami reaches over, grabbing Michael Craven by the heair, and slowly, at the same slow speed as he gets up, pulls up Craven. As he pulls Craven up, Kibagami nails Craven once, twice, three times with hard knees to the chest before grabbing his hand and whipping him to the ropes! Craven, though, reverses the whip! Kibagami is intended to fly for the ropes, but Craven doesn’t let him, instead sliding him onto his shoulders out of the whip! Craven holds Kibagami for a second before he helicopter spins him, dropping him down into a stunner before he collapses back onto the mat!

 

Riley: GULF COAST CRUNCH!!! GULF COAST CRUNCH BY CRAVEN! BOTH MEN DOWN!!!

 

Kibagami and Craven lie on the mat near each other, neither moving, but slowly, Craven rolls over, leaving a red line as he drags his bloodied face across the canvas, struggling to throw an arm/shoulder on top of Kibagami’s chest, the best he can do to cover him as Kivell drops to make the count.

 

Stevens: THIS MIGHT BE IT! HERE’S THE COVER!

 

 

 

 

ONE!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THREE!!!

 

 

 

DING DING DING!!!!

 

 

Funyon: The winner of the match and #1 contender to the SWF ICTV Championship... MICHAEL CRAAAAAVEN!!!

 

Riley: YES! HE WON! He finally beat Kibagami!!! What a glorious day for The King of Nightmares!

 

Stevens: Michael Craven comes out victorious in an exciting match, and he will now face Mak Francis for the ICTV Title, but at what cost to his neck has he done it? Will his neck be 100% for his confrontation with Mak? And will Judge, Blackwell, or Kibagami try to get revenge for his victory over them? We’ll have to wait and see! But there’s more action to come on SWF Ground Zero, inclduing our main event street fight for the SWF World Title, so stay tuned!

 

“King Of My World” plays in the background as Kivell lifts Craven’s arm up as he helps him up off Kibagami, but Craven pulls his arm away from Matthew’s, instead dropping to his knees and pumping both fists in the air in celebration. The crowd boos loudly at Craven as he smiles, but suddenly, his smile fades away and he falls forward, arms still up as he collapses onto the mat in exhaustion. The EMT crew sprints from the back to check on both men as they lie there, Bobby Riley celebrating at Craven’s victory as the camera focuses in on Craven as he rolls over, a smile on his face the only thing we see before we fade to commercial...

[Guest Suicide King]

Issues unresolved leading to a future uncertain...

 

 

... Once a teacher and his pupil ...

 

 

... Once bitter enemies ...

 

 

... The word is 'respect' ...

 

 

... But in the end ...

 

 

... Will it be 'contempt'? ...

 

 

...

 

Ben Hardy: Later tonight, in a match that has most certainly been anticipated for a long time; Danny Williams takes on Taylor Nicholas Thompson in a one-on-one encounter. Aside from the World title implications, one man who surely must be very interested in seeing this, is former SWF superstar and now a trainer for the SJL: Tod deKindes. Tod, the people must be curious. What are your interests in this match-up?

 

Tod: My interests in this match-up ... Heh ... Ben, if you knew your history, you would know that my "interests" as you put 'em, in this match are very well-documented. Danny Williams and TNT are two of the most well-rounded wrestlers that are destined for greatness in this company. Hell, I should know! These guys have amassed more gold than I could ever dream of, Ben. Never mind the fact that two years ago, Danny Williams injured my shoulder to the point where it's affected my golf swing. That bastard still hurts to this day! Never mind the fact that Danny Williams and TNT once screwed me over and put me out of action for well over a month! And never mind the fact ... that TNT's the one who beat me, 1-2-3, in the middle of the ring, at 13th Hour, and thus retiring me from my livelyhood. I still hear the three-count, Ben. I still hear that final bell. To this DAY, it still haunts me ... But, hey, I'm not bitter! However, when half of the events in your career are related to two guys in particular, you would tend to become "interested" in such a match, Ben! ... But lemme say this. The past is in the past. These guys have everything to look forward to. They ain't even DONE when it comes to bustin' up shit in the ring. I wish them nothing but luck ... Guys? ... Give 'em hell.

[Guest Suicide King]

Stevens: It’s time ladies and gentlemen, it’s time for one of the last true dream matches left in the SWF.

 

Riley: That’s right mutants, it’s time to see two former friends, former allies, former stable mates, tear each other apart in a bloody battle to the death!

 

Stevens: Well, I don’t think we’ll be seeing that. What we can expect to see, will no doubt be a grueling athletic contest between a former World Champion and his former mentor who has yet to reach that plateau. The winner of which will go on to meet the winner of Flesher/Frost in a numbe one contendership match.

 

“Watch me exploooooode!!!” rings through the arena, igniting the cheers of the screaming fans! Jogging down the aisle, a fired up TNT makes his way down to the ring, eager to get this match going!

 

Funyon: Ladies and Gentlemen, the following contest is scheduled for one fall and will be at a forty five minute time limit! Introducing first, weighing in at 275 pounds, TNT!

 

As if he can’t stop moving, TNT aimlessly wanders around the ring like some sort of caged animal, never taking his eyes off the entrance ramp.

 

Stevens: There is nothing that TNT hasn’t accomplished in the SWF. World Title, U.S. Title, Tag Title, Clusterfuck winner, TNT has done it all, and done it well.

 

Riley: But in the end there is a shadow that still looms over TNT, the shadow of his former mentor, Danny Williams.

 

Stevens: Citing his World Title reign, TNT believes he has surpassed his former mentor, however he has yet to directly prove it. Defeating Williams cleanly in a singles match, will erase any doubt that anyone has of his superiority over his former mentor.

 

AC/DC fades out, and the much more gentler “Jester’s Dance” bounces it’s way out of the PA system.

Funyon: And his opponent, weighing in at 243 pounds, hailing from Lousiville, Kentucky....................DANNY WILLIAMS!!!

 

The crowd goes crazy as Danny Williams comes marching out of the locker room.

Proud and imposing, Williams confidently makes his way down the aisle. In contrast to TNT, Williams is patient, and takes his time in getting in the ring.

 

Stevens: Having defeated TNT in a tag match last week, Danny Williams comes into this match as the clear favorite.

 

Riley: He does have the psychological edge, but who’s to say that the loss didn’t add a log to the fire that has been lit under TNT’s ass.

 

 

Stevens: Regardless of TNT’s motivation, Williams also has a lot to prove tonight. TNT has challenged his supremacy and World Title bid, and he if wants to make good on his promise to reach the top, he has to remind his former student, that he still his superior.

 

With both men in their corners, Soapdish calls for the bell!

 

DING! DING! DING!

 

Excited beyond words, the crowd gives a standing ovation as the eagerly anticipated match begins! Moving with confidence, Danny methodically makes his way to the center of the ring, while TNT does the same, almost perfectly reflecting his former mentor’s movements.

 

Stevens: And we are underway, the first singles meeting between Danny Williams and his former pupil, TNT! Has TNT surpassed his teacher, or does Danny still have a few tricks left up his sleeve that his student doesn’t know about.

 

Riley: Or maybe Danny purposely trained TNT wrong as a joke, which would explain a lot.

 

The crowd quiets down as TNT and Williams begin to cautiously circle each other, searching for an opening, weakness, or anything to take advantage of. Several long moments pass, but still, the gladiators continue to wander in a circle, hoping, praying for an opening. Finally, they pause as if they are going to come together in a grapple, but neither man makes the commitment, and they end up circling again.

 

Riley: Non stop action from the get go, eh Stevens?

 

Stevens: It’s like a game a chess, and neither man wants to be the pawn.

 

Frustrated, Williams and TNT stop moving, and start inching towards each other. Growing impatient, TNT throws caution to the wind, and darts forward at Williams with outstretched arms, instigating the collar elbow tie up.

 

Stevens: And TNT is the first bite, acting as the early aggressor.

 

Riley: Yeah, TNT obviously has more to prove tonight than Williams, so it comes as no surprise that he’s the one who made the first move.

 

The muscles in their back tightening with strain, Williams and TNT battle for control of the grapple. Despite the best efforts of both men, neither can gain an advantage, and a stalemate ensues. Impressed with the efforts of both men, the fans give a brief ovation. Hoping to end the stalemate with a rear waistlock, Williams attempts to maneuver around TNT, but the dynamic one hustles to stay in front of him. Williams goes to the left, but TNT is there, Williams goes to the right, but TNT is there. Frustrated, Williams attempts to go forward, muscling TNT back towards the ropes. As the ropes grow nearer, TNT smartly drops to one knee, giving him enough leverage to hold Williams at bay.

 

Riley: To see TNT avoid the ropes like that, you’d think that they were electrified or something.

 

Stevens: He doesn’t want to get caught with his back against the wall, which will no doubt give Danny an opening for those vicious Elbow Smashes which the majority of his offense is built around.

 

The crowd starts to get behind the underdog, chanting “T-N-T!” at the top of their lungs. Feeding off the energy of the crowd, TNT pushes his way back to a vertical base, and begins backing Danny up. Leaning forward on his tippy toes, Williams struggles to hold his ground but TNT relentlessly plows forward, inevitably pushing Danny towards the ropes. Thinking fast, Williams drops to one knee, and suavely slips behind TNT!

 

Stevens: Here’s the go behind!

 

Returning to his feet, Williams tightly wraps his meaty arms around TNT’s wide frame, securing him in a rear waistlock. The crowd roars as Williams pops out his hips for the bridge...

 

Riley: WATCH OUT!

 

but TNT immediately sand bags, making a suplex attempt impossible. Not one to give up an advantage, Williams keeps the waistlock applied, while TNT ponders an escape.

 

Riley: I wonder if TNT knows how close he just came to getting dropped on his head?

 

Stevens: You better believe he knows, Riley. But man oh man, was that some smart wrestling from Danny Williams. He baited TNT into moving forward instead of side to side, giving him the opening for the rear waistlock that he was seeking earlier, not to mention that he almost got a German Suplex out of the deal.

 

Riley: We talked about TNT being the aggressor, it’s quite possible that Williams picked up on this as well, and is now using it to his advantage.

 

 

Careful to maintain a low center of gravity, TNT hesitantly returns to a vertical base. Williams sticks to him like glue, keeping his head tucked into the middle of TNT’s back so that he can’t get caught with any wild reverse elbows. Unable to elbow Danny off, TNT takes the bumpy road to freedom by forcefully prying Williams’ fingers apart. TNT groans with strain as he pushes Williams’ left arm away from his body, breaking the waistlock.

 

“Huuuuuuuuurrrrrrrrrrrr!”

 

Free from Williams’ clutches, TNT keeps a hold of his arm, twisting it into a wristlock! But in a flash, Williams swiftly rolls forward, and performs an athletic one handed cartwheel back in the opposite direction , reversing the wristlock! The crowd responds to the flashy counter with an appreciative ovation.

 

Stevens: Beautiful wristlock counter from Danny Williams, I haven’t seen him do that in ages!

 

Riley: Despite being more technically inclined than your average dumb hoss, TNT doesn’t really have the skill to control Danny with a wrestling hold.

 

Determined to take control back, TNT grabs the wrist of Danny’s left hand, and vigorously pries it off his own wrist. Grabbing Danny’s wrist with both hands, TNT begins to turn away from Williams’, attempting to reverse the wristlock into one of his own. However, Williams isn’t gonna let that happen without a fight, so he grabs TNT’s wrist with his free hand, and starts trying to twist his arm back the other way, turning what would be a simple wristlock reversal into an all out battle of wills! Both men tremble with strain as they attempt to spin in opposite directions, but soon, TNT gains the upper hand, successfully twisting Danny’s meaty arm into a wristlock! Breaking their silence, the fans take a second to briefly applaud TNT tremendous effort.

 

Stevens: TNT may not have the skills that Danny possesses, but he may be slightly stronger, and more motivated.

 

Riley: Yeah, but heart can only take you so far, Stevens. There’s no way that TNT can keep up that type of intensity throughout an entire match.

 

Stevens: Nobody said that winning was easy, and if he wants to defeat Danny Williams that’s what he’s going to have to do.

 

Back where he started, Williams makes a more conventional escape attempt, simply pushing TNT into the ropes, and sending him for the ride! But TNT hangs on to Danny’s arm, reversing the Irish whip! Williams rebounds off the ropes, and runs right into a high Hiptoss!

 

Boom!

 

Despite having the wind knocked out of him, Danny hurries to his feet, only to be taken down by a deep Arm Drag!

 

Boom!

 

Not letting Williams get away, TNT immediately clamps on another wristlock, keeping his adversary on his back. But Danny doesn’t stay that way, instantly returning to his feet with a masterful kip up! Taking advantage of TNT’s surprise, Williams pulls his hand off his wrist, and twists his arm into a wristlock! Not giving TNT a chance to power out like last time, Williams quickly spins underneath his outstretched arm, and turns back to face him, bending TNT’s arm back into an overhead wristlock! Astounded by Williams’ quick counter wrestling, the fans hoot and whistle.

 

Stevens: Yet another jaw dropping counter from Danny Williams, I’ve never seen him or anybody execute so sharp and crisp as he is tonight.

 

Showing some muscle of his own, Williams attempts to push TNT’s arm behind his head. Instead of losing his balance as Williams planned, TNT bridges back on the top of his head in a surprising display of flexibility, easing the pressure on his arm. His vein covered, thick neck swollen with strain, TNT struggles to maintain the bridge while Williams continues to push his arms down. Seeing that TNT is in a tough predicament, the fans encourage him to fight on with a loud “T! N! T!” chant. Feeding of the energy of the crowd, TNT stunningly bridges back to his feet, despite Williams’ best efforts to keep him down!

 

Stevens: Would you look at that, what strength, what agility from the former World Champion!

 

With TNT back at a vertical base, Williams finds himself in another test of strength situation. His swollen triceps trembling with strain, TNT strains to straighten his arm out, and reverse the pressure on Williams. Both men are now dripping with sweat and shaking as they battle for control of the hold, while the crowd’s chant intensifies! Refusing to be held back anymore, TNT succeeds in reversing the top wristlock, using it to power Williams down to the mat! But in that instant, Williams rotates out from underneath TNT, smoothly reversing the overhead wristlock into a hammerlock!

 

Stevens: Once more, TNT’s monster effort comes up short, and Danny Williams is back in control.

 

Keeping TNT belly down on the mat, Williams hooks TNT’s free arm with a Chickenwing, and with a great deal of effort, manages to roll him over on his back.

 

Stevens: Nice amateur move from Danny Williams!

 

Riley: This could be enough to keep TNT’s mat inclined ass down for the three.

 

After carefully checking to make sure that TNT’s shoulders are down, Soapdish starts the count.

 

 

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

TNT desperately powers his shoulder up, and attempts to roll back over on his stomach, but Williams muscles him back down in a pinning position.

 

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

Once again, TNT gets his shoulder up, and makes an effort in turning back over. Danny struggles to keep TNT down, but the Dynamic One forcefully rolls over on his stomach.

 

Stevens: And finally, TNT fights his way out of that dangerous pinning predicament.

 

Riley: It’s a good thing that he’s strong enough to power his way out of most situations, because he’d be in serious trouble if had to think his way out.

 

Stevens: Though a bit mean spirited, you are right Riley. A more experienced mat wrestler would have never allowed himself to be in a risky position like that, and it was indeed TNT’s raw determination and power that allowed him to get out of it.

 

Not giving up his advantage, Williams mounts TNT’s back, and adjusts his grip to TNT’s wrists. Straightening TNT’s arms out behind his back, Danny returns to his feet, and stands a boot on his back.

 

Stevens: Finally in complete control, Danny Williams is attempting to wear TNT down with a Surfboard Stretch.

 

Riley: Danny’s looking to zap the power out of TNT’s upper body, so that next time, he won’t have the strength to simply muscle his way out of a hairy situation.

 

Trying his best to rip TNT’s arms off, Williams pulls back with all his might, drawing some sympathetic “ohs” from the shocked on lookers. Soapdish asks TNT if he wants to go on, but the explosive one shakes his head in defiance. Williams pulls back again, actually elevating TNT’s upper body off the mat! TNT is an absolute anguish, but still, he refuses to submit. Blocking out the numbing pain in his shoulders, TNT pushes his legs underneath him, easing the pressure on his back. Now on his knees, TNT climbs the rest of the way up to his feet, forcing Danny to take his boot out of his back. Sensing that TNT is in a good position for a reversal, the crowd starts to warm up.

 

Stevens: TNT has managed to make it to his feet, but does he have enough energy to escape the Surfboard?

 

Riley: All he has to do is walk to the ropes, that shouldn’t require a lot of energy now should it?

 

TNT makes no effort in reaching the ropes, that is out of the question, he has to escape on his own. In preparation, TNT fills his lungs with oxygen, and clears his mind. Now ready for the laborious task ahead, TNT starts to turn away from the pressure, attempting a go behind reversal! Behind him all the way, the fans rabidly chant...

 

“T-N-T! T-N-T! T-N-T!”

 

He may not have the crowd behind him at the moment, but Danny has his pride at stake, refusing to give TNT an inch. Despite Williams’ resistance, TNT continues to give it his all, using every muscle in his body to it’s maximum potential.

 

Riley: What is that bonehead doing, just go to the ropes you dumbass.

 

Stevens: He has to much pride to do that, he wants to send a message to Danny, he wants to do what nobodies done before, and that’s reverse his Surfboard Stretch.

 

Riley: How idiotic, he’s just gonna kill himself for nothing.

 

Just when seems that TNT is getting somewhere, Danny puts on the breaks. Summoning power from god knows where, Williams kills the reversal attempt, straightening TNT’s arms back out behind him. Devastated, TNT hangs his head down, while Williams breaths a sigh of relief.

 

Riley: I told you it was a waste of time, maybe now he’ll grow a brain, and go for the damn ropes.

The fans don’t give up, encouraging TNT to fight on by starting up the chant again. Proudly raising his head up, TNT takes several deep breaths, gathering his strength for what is sure to be another hellish test of strength.

 

Stevens: TNT will not give up, his desire to literally escape the shadow of his former mentor is far too great to be extinguished!

 

Riley: Oh brother.

 

As if he’s doing butterfly curls on a weight machine, TNT begins laboriously pulling his arms out in front of him, showing off the power of his massive pectoral muscles. Desperately trying to keep TNT’s wrists clutched, a purple faced Danny Williams turns to his side, straining to keep the hold applied. Gaining ground, TNT turns toward the opposite direction of his captor so that the back of their heads are touching. A stalemate ensues, but it’s obvious who is expending the most energy.

 

Stevens: TNT’s gonna do it, he’s gonna power out of the surfboard!

 

Riley: Even if he does do the impossible, so what, it’s just a surfboard for crying out loud, it means nothing.

 

Stevens: Well, try to explain that to these guys who have been battling over the simplest of moves all night. This is for more than control of the match, this is a battle of supremacy, each man wanting to prove that their the better man, the one more deserving of a World Title shot.

 

Starting to lose ground, Danny squats down on one knee for more leverage, praying for the strength to stay in control. Suddenly, another chant starts to echoing through the arena....

 

“DAN-E! DAN-E! DAN-E!”

 

The fans on the other side of the arena respond by chanting “T! N! T!” even louder than before!

 

Stevens: The crowd is totally split, they don’t know who to cheer for!

 

Even though his arms are threatening to snap like dry twigs, Danny won’t let go! Refusing to lose to his former student, Williams digs deep, unleashing an animal like roar!

 

“RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!”

 

His eyes lit up with uncanny intensity, Williams muscles TNT back in front of him, setting off an explosion of cheers amongst his fans. Dripping sweat and looking totally spent, TNT drops to his knees with a heart breaking look of disillusionment on his face. Despite being sore and out of breath, Williams manages to nod to the crowd, letting them know that he’s in control.

 

Stevens: And it appears that Danny Williams is the victor!

 

Riley: All that work for nothing, TNT is right back where he started, and in even worse shape than before.

 

Unable to accept defeat, TNT stands tall again, huffing and puffing for another grueling reversal attempt. The fans respond to TNT’s determination with a warm reception, while a gloomy faced Danny Williams is less than enthused.

 

Stevens: TNT will not be denied, he’s gonna reverse the Surfboard if it kills him!

 

Riley: This is ridiculous, these guys are gonna end up giving themselves a hernia.

 

Every muscle in TNT”s normally undefined thick body becomes visible, almost pulsating out of his body, as he vigorously attempts to turn out of the Surfboard once again! Straining so hard that veins are actually protruding out of his head as well as the rest of his body, Danny does his best to keep TNT’s arms straight, but it’s no use!

 

“DAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!”, screams TNT at the top of his lungs as he turns to his side, spinning behind Williams!

 

Danny has no choice but to release TNT’s wrist, allowing the explosive one to quickly snatch his in turn, reversing the Surfboard! Even though his face is one that’s overcome with exhaustion, TNT still has the energy to nod his head, showing everyone who’s in charge now. In celebration of TNT’s hard fought conquest, the crowd gives a roaring standing ovation.

 

Stevens: Thanks to his never say die attitude, TNT has become the first person to cleanly reverse a Danny Williams’ Surfboard.

 

A very melancholy Danny Williams slumps to one knee, trying to comprehend what just happened. Danny takes a few moments to rest up, and than wearily stands up, focused on the goal at hand. Fixated on taking control back, Williams makes a list ditch effort in pulling his arms back around in front of him, but he doesn’t have anything in the tank. Now knowing that he is in full control, TNT relaxes for the first time in a long time.

 

Stevens: It appears that the battle for control is over.

 

Riley: TNT needs to be careful here, he can not afford to let his guard down against someone as smart and as experienced as Danny Williams.

 

Stevens: That’s right, because Williams is always thinking. Even as we speak, I’m sure he’s plotting some of type of an escape.

 

In his drained state, TNT forgets to shove his boot into Danny’s back which would have kept him at a safe distance. Taking advantage of TNT’s mental error, Williams steps back into him, giving him the space he needs to pull his arm down in front of his leg. Next, Williams pulls up his leg, and uses it to pry TNT’s hand off his right wrist! Moving so quick, he’s barely detectable to the human eye, Williams drops to one knee, and takes TNT over with a fireman carry, freeing his other arm! Williams instantly slaps an Armbar on TNT to keep him grounded, while the crowd once again finds themselves applauding another “out of the ass” reversal.

 

Riley: What did I tell ya?

 

Stevens: Williams is at the top of his game tonight, it seems that he has had an answer for everything that TNT has thrown at him.

 

Frustration starting to show, TNT slams his free fist into the mat. Moving with a sense of purpose, TNT rolls to his feet, and runs Danny into the ropes, shooting him off his arm! Williams flies across the ring, while TNT rushes into position. Williams gets a good bounce off the ropes, charging back at the explosive one as he gets up! Not having enough time to catch Danny with anything, TNT hits the deck, letting Danny hurdle over him! TNT scrambles back to his feet, this time avoiding Danny with a leap frog!

 

Stevens: The pace picking up now...

 

Danny hits the ropes again, gaining even more speed, but this time TNT is ready for him. As Danny draws nearer, TNT dips his head........

 

BOOM!

 

flipping Danny into the air with a big Back Body Drop! Delirious, Williams stumbles to his feet, allowing TNT to easily scoop him up, and press him over his head to the “ohs” and “ahs” of the awe struck crowd.

 

Stevens: Look at the power of TNT!

 

Riley: Never have I seen anyone lift Danny over their head like that, he’s one wide bastard you know!

 

Trembling with strain, TNT walks towards the edge of the ring, and shockingly tosses Williams over the top rope! The fans scream with terror and excitement as Danny bounces off the ring apron, and splatters across the arena floor below!

 

Stevens: OH MY GOD!

 

Riley: I wouldn’t be surprised if Danny broke something during that fall, that was just nasty!

 

Worn out even before he lifted Danny’s huge frame over his head, TNT momentarily collapses to one knee, wisely using his free time to catch a breather. Soapdish starts to count Williams out, forcing him to try to climb back to his feet before he’s ready. At the count of nine, Danny wobbles to his feet, when TNT comes flying over the top rope with reckless abandonment!

 

Stevens: NO HANDS TOPAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!

 

TNT crash lands into Danny Williams, knocking him several feet down the entrance aisle! Not a soul in the house is sitting, everyone it seems is standing, rhythmically pumping their fists in the air while chanting....

 

“T-N-T! T-N-T! T-N-T!”

 

Unable to bask in the cheers of the crowd, TNT remains grounded with Danny Williams, neither showing any signs of life.

 

Riley: That was totally insane, if TNT did stuff like that more often...who am I kidding, I’d still hate his guts.

 

Stevens: Rarely do you see TNT dive to the outside, but that’s how much a win tonight means to him. He’s willing to sacrifice his body and put it all on the line for a chance at the World Title.

 

His elbow scraped and a little bloody, TNT uses the guardrail to climb to his feet. After dusting himself off, TNT drags Williams up by his tights, and slings him into the ring. TNT rolls into the ring as well, receiving a hero’s welcome from the fans. Drenched in sweat, TNT pulls Williams up by his hair, and stuffs his him down in a standing head scissors!

 

Stevens: TNT, positioning Williams for the MUSHROOM CLOUD!

 

Riley: Wouldn’t you say it’s a little early to be busting out the heavy artillery?

 

Stevens: TNT doesn’t get paid by the hour, Riley. He senses that he’s got Danny hurt, so he’s gonna take full advantage of the opportunity and try to put him away while he’s got a chance.

 

The fans turn it up a notch as TNT squats low for the lift attempt, but Danny wisely sand bags before he can do anything. Knowing full and well that he isn’t gonna get Danny up, TNT releases him from the head scissors, and plants him with a thunderous Body Slam!

 

Boom!

 

TNT sits Williams up, and wraps his huge, strong arm around his head, trapping him in an inverted facelock! Warming up, the crowd starts to make some noise as TNT works the hold, squeezing Williams’ head with all his might, ceasing the blow flow to his brain.

 

Stevens: Unable to hit the Mushroom Cloud, TNT is gonna smartly wear Danny down with a Dragon Sleeper!

 

Riley: That’s what he should have done in the first place, instead of wasting time with an early Powerbomb attempt.

 

Desperately searching for an escape, Williams reaches by his head, managing to get a hold of TNT’s trade mark dread locks! With the aid of TNT’s fashionable hair, Williams shamelessly snap mares him off!

 

“Boooooooooooooooooooooooo!”

 

Too weak to do much of anything, Williams slumps back to the mat in a slumber, unable to hear Soapdish’s scolding.

 

Stevens: Williams, taking a bit short of cut to escape TNT’s clutches.

 

Riley: Williams was feeling the life being drained out of his body, and he had to do something to stop it, even if it means bending the rules. When a shot at the World Title is at a stake, you have to push the envelope, and get away with much as you possibly can!

 

In raged over the hair pulling, TNT jumps back to his feet, and snatches Williams up...

 

CRACK!

 

only to get caught off guard by a hard Elbow Smash! TNT is rattled by the first big strike of the match, but still, he manages to pop off an elbow of his own!

 

Crack!

 

However, it isn’t enough to stop Williams from busting his jaw with another elbow!

 

CRACK!

 

TNT’s knees buckle under the heavy blow, yet he still has enough power to answer back!

 

Crack!

 

In response, Williams smiles at TNT, letting him know that his elbows hurt, but are not enough to put him down. Aiming to take his former student out for good, Williams draws back his arm, and takes a big swing..

 

Swoooooooooooosh!

 

TNT avoids the elbow by ducking behind his attacker! Not giving Danny the chance to correct his mistake, TNT quickly clamps his arms around his head in a Sleeperhold! Still weary from the Dragon Sleeper, Williams almost instantly starts to get weak legged!

 

Stevens: STANDING SLEEPAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!

 

Riley: Even though he’s worn Danny down considerably, TNT still couldn’t stand toe to toe with him!

 

Stevens: Your right, Riley. TNT was losing that exchange, so he had to grab the Sleeperhold in order to maintain his advantage.

 

Looking to speed up the process, TNT starts violently twisting Danny’s head from side to side as if he’s trying to snap his neck. Thinking fast, Williams drops to his knees, slinging TNT off his neck with an arm drag! Springing to his feet, TNT overwhelms Danny with a flurry of quick forearms, before trying the Sleeperhold again! If it worked once it will work again thinks Williams, who than drops to his knees, and tosses TNT off yet again! This time, Williams punts TNT in the back before he can reach a vertical base!

 

SMACK!

 

“Oooooooooooooooooooooooooh!”

 

Clutching his back, TNT violently spasms on the mat, trying to block out the burning pain in his back. Having bought himself some type to recover, Williams leans forward, resting his hands on his knees, trying to shake lose the cobwebs, when TNT unexpectedly pops up for another round!

 

Crack! Crack! Crack!

 

TNT drives his surprised opponent into the ropes with a series of elbows smashes, while the crowd goes ballistic!

 

Stevens: TNT is taking the fight to Williams, constantly keeping him on defense!

 

Riley: TNT knows he’s can’t afford to lose control of the match, he’s got Danny hurt, and he has to keep him that way!

 

Taking his former teacher by the wrist, TNT attempts to send him for the ride, but Williams refuses to cooperate, hooking his free arm around the top rope in protest. Not giving up, TNT slams a couple more forearms into Williams’ head, and than tries the Irish whip again! Once more, the stone faced Danny Williams stubbornly hangs on, refusing to move a single inch.

 

Stevens: Williams is holding his ground, forcibly putting a stop to TNT’s momentum.

 

Riley: I guess that Danny’s decided “enough of this shit”, I’m making a stand!

 

Trying a different approach, TNT shoves a couple of knees into Danny’s bread basket, before trying the Irish whip! The different approach works, but the success is short lived! Snarling like a wild beast, Williams hangs on to TNT’s arm like a pitbull, using it to violently pull him into a short arm Elbow Smash!

 

CRAAAAAACK!

 

The fans watch on in horror as TNT momentarily goes limp, and falls through the ropes, down to the floor!

 

Stevens: OH MY GOD, DID YOU HEAR THAT!

 

Earning a much needed break, Williams collapses on his hands and knees, clutching his head and grimacing. TNT on the other hand can only wish that he was in that good of shape, he is simply lying motionless on his back, while Soapdish counts him out.

 

Riley: I really can’t see TNT getting up from that. It may be disappointing, but if Williams is smart, like I know he can be sometimes, he’ll let TNT get counted out.

 

 

Suddenly, there is an explosion of cheers as TNT comes sliding back into the ring like a mad man!

 

Riley: NO WAY! TNT just keeps coming and coming, refusing to stay down and give Danny a break!

 

Stevens: That’s what TNT has to do, he has to keep the heat on Williams, and not give him a chance to recover!

 

Williams rushes to his feet, catching TNT by the dreads before he can get up. Williams struggles to hold TNT’s head down, while simultaneously slamming knees into the side of his head! Absorbing Danny’s offense like a sponge, a fired up TNT rises up, jerks Williams down by his hair, and starts obliterating his abdomen with a never ending barrage of knees! Not finished yet, Williams muscles TNT back down, and picks up right where he left off! Loving every second of this battle of wills, the crowd makes some serious noise!

 

Stevens: NEITHER MAN IS BACKING DOWN, THEY ARE MATCHING EACH OTHER KNEE FOR KNEE!

 

Yanking Williams back down by his hair, TNT successfully backs him into a corner with some more gut wrenching knee strikes! Williams is visibly pained this time around, having to lean against the turnbuckles to stay on his feet.

 

Riley: IT LOOKS LIKE THOSE KNEES HAVE TAKING THEIR TOLL ON DANNY!

 

TNT mercilessly drives a two more knees into Danny’s stomach, and than shoots him out of the corner with an Irish whip!

 

BAAAAAAAM!

 

Williams hits the turnbuckles head on, crushing his chest and ribs! Delirious, Williams staggers backwards out of the corner, wandering right into TNT’s clutches! Creeping up behind his victim, TNT pins Williams’ arm up with a Half Nelson, prompting the still standing fans to scream with excitement!

 

Stevens: HE’S GOT HIM SET UP FOR THE HALF NELSON SUPLEX!

 

TNT arches his back for the throw, but Williams desperately blocks the suplex with a tight leg grapevine!

 

CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!

 

Using his trusty elbows, Danny frees himself from the Half Nelson! TNT is left reeling, allowing Williams to slip behind him, and....

 

SMAAACK!

 

club him in the back of the head with a Lariat! Both men go down, and the crowd gives one last ovation before returning to their seats!

 

Stevens: Williams, killing TNT’s momentum dead with the Enzui Lariat!

 

Riley: I think this is the turning point, Stevens! TNT was throwing everything he could at Williams, but when it came time to hit a big move, he got stopped cold in his tracks.

 

Stevens: On numerous occasions the Enzui Lariat has indeed proven to be Danny’s most reliable momentum killer, usually signifying that the end of the match isn’t too far away.

 

Wincing with every breath, Williams sluggishly crawls to the ropes, using them to pull himself up. Holding his ribs with one hand, Williams leans into the ropes, keeping a close eye on TNT, who is struggling to get to his feet half away across the ring.

 

Riley: Danny’s eyeing TNT up for something here.

 

Stevens: I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s looking for the Western Lariat, which almost always follows the Enzui version.

 

Once TNT is fully erect, Williams launches himself off the ropes, swinging up his bulky left arm...

 

SWOOOOOOOOOOSH!

 

TNT ducks, catching Danny in another Sleeperhold!

 

Riley: I guess Stevens wasn’t the only one who did their homework before the match.

 

Moving with a sense of urgency, Williams frantically tries to reach the ropes, but TNT keeps dragging him away, holding him in the hell mouth that is the center of the ring! Since reaching the ropes is out of the question, Williams suddenly drops down for the Armdrag! Unlike last time, TNT keeps the Sleeper firmly clinched on, using it to drag Danny down to the mat with him! The fans slide to the edge of their seats, wandering if this could be the end.

 

Stevens: TNT ISN’T LETTING GO! HE’S GOT WILLIAMS IN TROUBLE, AND HE’S NOT GOT LET HIM GET AWAY THIS TIME!

 

Danny tries to stay awake, fighting to keep his eyes open, and his mind focused, but he’s fighting a losing battle! Williams begins to struggle less and less, giving TNT the opportunity he needs to release Danny’s head, and tuck it under his arm for the Dragon Sleeper! In addition to the inverted facelock, TNT wraps his strong legs around Danny’s body, holding him still, while he squeezes the remaining hemoglobin out of his brain! The fans are now standing, no longer wandering, but almost certain that Danny’s days are numbered.

 

 

Stevens: DOUSHIME DRAGON SLEEPAH, DOUSHIME DRAGON SLEEPAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!

 

Riley: This will either put Danny down for good, or at the very least, create an opening for a bigger move.

 

Williams starts to black out, his life flashes before his eyes, yet he somehow manages to roll to the ropes! Acting as if it was a near fall, the crowd gives a huge pop, before settling back down. His head still pounding from all knees he absorbed a short time ago, TNT takes a few moments to collect himself before dragging his sleepy eyed victim to the center of the ring. Without a second to lose, TNT positions Williams in a standing head scissors, driving the crowd wild!

 

Stevens: HE’S GOING FOR IT, HE’S GOING FOR THE MUSHROOM CLOUD!

 

One at a time, TNT locks his big arms around Danny’s torso, and the crowd goes even wilder! Not born yesterday, Williams drops to his knees in defiance.

 

Riley: He’s not going anywhere.

 

In no mood to fuck around, TNT releases Williams, but than shockingly leaps into the air, bringing his huge tree trunk of leg down across the back of Williams’ neck!

 

“Ooooooooooooooooh!”

 

Going limb, Danny crumbles down to the mat, while TNT sits up, snarling and breathing hard.

 

Stevens: DEAR GOD, WHAT A LEG DROP!

 

Riley: TNT is getting frustrated, that’s twice he thought he had Williams, only to find out he still hasn’t done enough to hit the Mushroom Cloud.

 

Stomping back to his feet, TNT drags Danny up by his hair, and pushes him down into another standing head scissors!

 

Stevens: HE’S GONNA TRY IT AGAIN!

 

Riley: This is like what, his third attempt?

 

Stevens: Ever since he defeated Frost with it, the Mushroom Cloud has become the most important piece in TNT’s arsenal, and if any of his moves can defeat his former mentor it’s that one!

 

With a look of determination etched across of his face, TNT bends his knees, and hoists Danny off the mat, nearly giving the crowd a heart attack! But before TNT can flip Danny up on his shoulders, he manages to break the waistlock, and land back on his feet in front of him! Acting almost on instinct, TNT boots Danny in the gut, doubling him over! TNT pulls Williams down in a front facelock, and kicks out his legs!

 

CRUNCH!

 

Bouncing off his head, Williams lies on his back, glassy eyed and usually vulnerable. Rushing back to his feet, TNT grabs Danny by the hair, and lets out a passionate scream to the crowd!

 

Stevens: AND FINALLY, IT LOOKS LIKE DANNY IS READY FOR THE MUSHROOM CLOUD!

 

Guiding Danny back into a stand head scissors, TNT eagerly repositions him for the Powerbomb! TNT struggles with the move, prompting the crowd to get louder. After several false alarms, TNT peels Danny off the mat!

 

Riley: HE’S GOT HIM UP!

 

TNT flips Danny up on his shoulders, but Williams uses that same forward momentum to slip out of his clutches! Landing behind TNT, Williams dives into the ropes, launching himself back at his former appetence! TNT spins around, but he’s too late...

 

SMAAAAAAAAACK!

 

Williams decapitates TNT with a vicious Western Lariat that draws a collective “oh” from the sympathetic souls in attendance! Barely able to stand, Williams flops into the ropes, draping himself over them like a towel.

 

Riley: And just like that, Williams has brought TNT’s offensive run to a grinding halt!

 

Stevens: It will be interesting to see what Williams does here, considering that TNT just came awfully close to ending his night.

 

After laying on the ropes for a couple of seconds, Williams pops his sore neck a few times, and makes his way over to TNT, who is just now starting to stir. As TNT climbs to his feet, Williams calmly positions him in a standing head scissors! Squatting low to the mat, Williams starts to summon his power for the lift attempt, while the hot crowd goes bonkers!

 

Stevens: Williams, setting TNT up for the POWERBOMB! It was only two weeks ago that Danny pinned TNT’s shoulders to the mat with this very move!

 

Satisfied that he’s ready for the laborious task at hand, Williams takes a few deep breaths, and lifts...

 

“DAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!”

 

but a little thing called gravity prevents him from getting the big man off his feet! Dripping sweat and weary eyed, Williams gives it a try, but the next thing he knows, he’s the one being lifted into the air! Raising his upper body to it’s normal 90 angle, TNT flips Danny off like a rag doll!

 

Stevens: TNT, escaping the Powerbomb with a Back Body Drop!

 

Riley: I think Danny may have rushed that one, especially after taking as much punishment as he has.

 

Stevens: Having escaped the Mushroom Cloud by the skin of his teeth, Danny has decided he has to the end match as soon as possible, because maybe next time he won’t be as lucky.

 

Sore and just plain tired, Williams is slow to his feet, but once he’s up, you better believe he’s on top of TNT! After helping the explosive one to his feet, Williams drives a particularly nasty elbow smash into his jaw!

 

CRACK!

 

Williams fires another elbow, but TNT shockingly gets an arm up, blocking it! Before Williams can pull back his arm to defend himself, TNT cleans his clock with a big closed fist punch!

 

CRACK!

 

Danny wobbles back a few steps, but rushes back in, dropping TNT with a three elbow combo to his temple and jaw bone!

 

CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!

 

After popping his jaw back in place, Danny leans down to pick TNT back up for presumably another Powerbomb attempt..

 

SMACK!

 

when TNT surprises him with a haymaker to the gut! Holding his gut, Danny doubles over like he’s going to puke, allowing the dynamic one to climb to his feet on his own terms!

 

Stevens: That body punch hurt Williams!

 

Riley: What can you expect, Danny must have took like sixty knees to the gut earlier!

 

TNT draws back his arm, and stuffs his fist into Danny’s gut yet again!

 

CRACK!

 

But Williams floors TNT with an Elbow Smash, after absorbing the gut busting punch! Danny drops to his knee himself, still clutching his gut, while the hot crowd applauds both men’s never say die attitude. After resting for a second, Danny rises back to his feet, and adjusts his trunks..

 

SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!

 

When TNT pops up, and starts to unload on his stomach!

 

 

CRACK!

 

TNT goes back down, while Williams slumps back into the ropes, looking like he’s about to be ill.

 

Stevens: TNT may have found Danny’s weakness, but it may be to little too late.

 

Riley: TNT has taking so many elbows over the course of this match, that now all it takes is just one to get him off his feet.

 

Barely able to hold his eyes open, TNT pulls his legs underneath him, and wobbles to his feet.

 

CRACK! CRACK!

 

Danny puts him back down with a One-Two Elbow Combo from hell! Appearing brain dead, TNT drops to his knees, and flops face down on the mat. Sensing that TNT is out cold, the crowd heat reaches steaming levels as Danny rolls him over, and crawls on top of him for the pin!

 

Riley: HE’S OUT, TNT’S OUT!

 

Stevens: DANNY MAY HAVE JUST WON THE MATCH!

 

“ONE!”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“TWO!”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

NO, TNT kicks out to a big pop, and almost immediately starts trying to crawl back to his feet.

 

Riley: HE KICKED OUT?!

 

Stevens: Not only has he kicked out, he’s trying to back on his feet! Can you believe the heart of this guy, not only has he taking enough elbows to give an elephant, he still wants to take the fight to Williams!

 

Prosed and ready, Danny beckons TNT to get up, while the anxious crowd starts to make more and more noise! Finally, TNT returns to his feet, prompting Danny to spin at him like a human tornado....

 

SMAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!

 

TNT tears Danny’s head off with a Burning Lariat as he steps in! The crowd is deafening as TNT drops on top of Williams for the flash pin!

 

Stevens: DANNY WAS LOOKING FOR THE ROLLING ELBOW, BUT UNLIKE IN THE PREVIOUS TAG MATCH, TNT SAW IT COMING AND WAS ABLE TO CATCH HIM WITH THE LARIAT!

 

At the top of their lungs, the crowd screams along!

 

 

 

 

“ONE!”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“TWO!”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

...........

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“THREE!”

 

 

 

 

Riley: I DON’T BELIEVE IT.........

 

 

 

 

 

Stevens: DANNY KICKED OUT!

 

 

True to Steven’s words, Danny didn’t a getting a shoulder up, he flat out kicked out of the Lariat! Exploding, the fans jump out of their chairs with outstretched arms, excited by the god like near fall!

 

Stevens: WITH HIS PRIDE ON THE LINE, HIS CAREER ON LINE, THE WORLD CHAMPIONSHIP INDIRECTLY ON THE LINE, DANNY WILLIAMS WILL NOT ROLL OVER AND DIE AFTER BATTLE FOR SO LONG AND SO HARD!

 

Riley: You act like the outcome is still going to be decided by Danny Williams! The ball is in TNT’s hands now, he’s the one who has to make the play, and end the game!

 

A total mess, TNT rolls over on his back, and takes about thirty seconds to pull himself back together. His forehead wrinkled from an unbearable migraine, TNT returns to his feet, where he is greeted by riveting ovation. With a familiar primal scream, TNT jerks Danny up, and positions him in a Half Nelson! TNT instantly snaps back, throwing Danny high into the air!

 

CRUNCH!

 

 

Williams lands on the back of his head, the momentum rolling him all the way across the ring and into the ropes! The first head drop of the night does nothing but increase the volume of the crowd’s now constant pop!

 

Stevens: HALF NELSON SUPLEX! HALF NELSON SUPLEX!

 

Riley: Nobodies going to accuse TNT of being passive after his match, his strategy tonight has been nothing but attack, attack, attack!

 

TNT scrambles to his feet, pounds his chest like a ape, and shouts over the crowd...

 

“WATCH ME EXPLODE!”

 

Marching his way over to Williams, TNT drags him off the ropes, and quickly tucks him down in the Powerbomb set up!

 

Stevens: VICTORY IS WITHIN TNT’S REACH, ALL HE HAS TO DO IS HIT THIS MOVE, AND HE IS THE NUMBER ONE CONTENDER!

 

With no resistence, TNT effortlessly hoists Danny up on his shoulders, and sits out in fluid motion!

 

KA-BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!

 

Williams hits the mat so hard that he bounces off it like basketball before lifelessly coming to rest!

 

Stevens: HE HIT! HE HIT! MUSHROOM CLOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOUD!!!

 

The crowd heat reaches nuclear levels as Soapdish starts the count!

 

Riley: THANKS TO HIS BRUTAL RELENTLESS ATTACK, TNT HAS DEFEATED HIS FORMER MENTOR!

 

 

“ONE!”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“TWO!”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

..........

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“THREE!”

 

 

 

 

 

NO! Danny Williams shoots his shoulder off the mat at the last possible second! The pop from the crowd is so damn huge, it sounds like an air plane has just flown over the building at an extremely low altitude!

 

Stevens: DANNY GOT THE SHOULDER UP! DANNY GOT THE SHOULDER UP!

 

Riley: EVERYTHING HAS BEEN A BUILD TO THE MUSHROOM CLOUD, SO NOW THE QUESTION REMAINS, WHAT ELSE CAN TNT POSSIBLY DO?

 

Heart broken and emptied of all spirit and energy, TNT drops back to the mat, breathing hard with his eyes closed. The atmosphere in the arena starts to change, and a new fan favorite emerges...

 

“DAN-E! DAN-E! DAN-E!”

 

With every passing second the chant picks up an intensity, but Williams condition remains the same. On his back with his eyes closed to the outside world, Williams is unable to respond to the affection of his fans. TNT on the other hand is making his way back to his feet, seemingly rejuvenated by his very brief rest. Grabbing Williams by the hair, TNT attempts to steady him....

 

 

CRACK!

 

when Williams rocks him with a surprise elbow that damn near causes the crowd to blow the roof off the place! However, Williams legs out, and he drops back to his hands and knees, unable to follow the elbow up with anything!

 

Stevens: Williams, trying to build some momentum.

 

Riley: The will is there, but his body isn’t. The only thing he can do now is delay the evitable, he’s done took too much punishment to make any time of a come back!

 

Drifting back into the ropes, TNT shakes out his right arm to a big response from the crowd!

 

Stevens: UH OH, it seems that there is another Burning Lariat on the horizon!

 

Wide eyed and seeing birds, Danny hobbles to his feet, when TNT explodes at him....

 

SMAAAAACK!

 

running chest first into a reverse elbow! The stiff strike backs TNT up, but recovers almost instantly, and resumes his charge...

 

CRAAACK!

 

this time Danny gets his boot up! TNT wobbles in place like a Mortal Combat character awaiting to be finished, allowing Danny the time he needs to spin in place and get off his most reliable weapon!

 

CRAAAAAAAAAAACK!!!

 

TNT spirals to the mat! Unable to stand any longer himself, Williams also his the mat like a sack of bricks! Finally, the crowd completely blows the roof off the building!

 

Stevens: ROLLING ELBOW! ROLLING ELBOW! ROLLING ELBOOOOOOOOOOOW!!!

 

Riley: THE MOVE THAT LEAD TO TNT’S DOOM A FEW WEEKS AGO HAS COME BACK TO HAUNT HIM!

 

Stevens: TNT was able to avoid it the first time, but that time he didn’t see it coming!

 

Riley: If I could pick one spot in this match that could sum it all up, it would be the spot we just witnessed. TNT continuously plowing ahead in search of the big win, but every time it seems he’s made it, Williams puts up another road block.

 

Both men lie on the mat for what seems like an eternity, Soapdish is half heartedly counting, but if he really wanted to stop the match, he could have already done it several times over. Once more, the crowd begins the chant....

 

“DAN-E! DAN-E! DAN-E!”

 

Not wanting to keep his fans waiting any longer, Williams stumbles to his feet, only to go back down. However, it isn’t long before Williams finally reaches a vertical base, and stays up. Meanwhile, a dumbfounded TNT is curelessly climbing to his feet. With an unnecessary amount of stealth, Williams sneaks up behind TNT, and cinches in a rear waistlock! With a grunt, Danny barely gets TNT off the ground, before bridging back at a very sharp high angle!

 

CRUNCH!

 

TNT lands grotesquely on his upper back, his legs briefly going over his head, before snapping back to their original location! It isn’t a real neck bump, but to hear the crowd, you would think differently!

 

Stevens: RELEASE GERMAN! RELEASE GERMAN!

 

Riley: Payback for TNT’s Half Nelson I reckon.

 

Stevens: I’d say that was more of a desperation move to keep TNT down than a revenge motivated suplex, but you never know. I don’t think he wants to risk trying the Powerbomb too early again, wants to make sure that TNT is totally defenseless.

 

Drained from the lift and the beating he’s taking, Danny takes his time in getting back to his feet. Soaked from head to toe in sweat, and now constantly breathing through his mouth, Williams brings his thumb across his throat to signify TNT’s pending doom! Williams grabs TNT by the dread locks, and after a great deal of pulling and tugging, he gets him up in a standing head scissors! One at a time, Williams snugly links his arms around TNT”s huge waist line!

 

Stevens: HERE WE GO, DANNY’S ABOUT TO TRY THE POWERBOMB!

 

Williams squats low to the mat, and springs up, but TNT doesn’t budge! Again, Williams does attempts the lift, but nothing happens!

 

Riley: TNT is nearly 300 pounds of solid muscle, and I doubt Williams can lift him in his weakened state.

 

Stevens: DANNY HAS TO HIT IT, IT’S THE ONLY WAY HE CAN DEFEAT TNT, AND MOVE ON TO THE WORLD TITLE!

 

Realizing he needs more energy, Danny fills his lungs with more air, while the crowd shows their support with another chant. His arms quivering like he’s being electrocuted, Williams pulls TNT off the mat with a mighty roar...

 

“RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!”

 

 

Just barely turning TNT around in mid air, Williams drops him down with earth moving power!

 

KA-BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!

 

Riley: UNBELIEVABLE!

 

Stevens: HE HIT THE POWERBOMB, IT’S OVER!

 

On his tippy toes, Williams leans over TNT’s broken body as deep as possible for the pin!

 

 

 

“ONE!”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“TWO!”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“THREE!”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

NO, TNT rolls out from underneath Williams! The standing fans run in place so fast that it sounds like distant thunder!

 

Stevens: THOUGH HIS BODY IS BROKEN, TNT WILL NOT GIVE UP!

 

Exhausted to the point of death, a dehydrated Williams groggily rolls to a corner, using the ring ropes to pull himself up. He looks to the crowd with uncertainty, for the first in the match Williams has self doubt.

 

Riley: At this point, Danny Williams has to be asking himself, what will it take to end this match!

 

Stevens: It was but one week ago that Danny easily pinned TNT with the Powerbomb, but tonight, the Dynamic One is so motivated and so well prepared that the move can only register a two count.

 

Watching TNT closely, Williams plants a leg out in front of him like a sprinter as his victim starts to stagger his way to his feet.

 

Stevens: Not having another Powerbomb left in him, Williams is gonna attempt to take TNT out with a Running Elbow.

 

Riley: What an idiot, if a Powerbomb can’t hold TNT down, what makes him think an elbow is gonna get the job done?

 

Stevens: Don’t discredit the Running Elbow, Stevens. With the Running Elbow, Danny got the biggest win of his career at SWF Battleground against Jamie Drazon. So in fact, it’s quite fitting that Danny uses it to vanquish his toughest foe yet, TNT.

 

Once TNT is fully erect, Williams steam rolls out of the corner, swinging up his forearm....

 

SMAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!

 

but the explosive one explodes forward, hooking Danny with a neck breaking Lariat!

 

Stevens: BUUUUUUUURNING LARIAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAT!!!

 

In a familiar sight, both men are down and hurting, while the crowd cheers and screams as loudly as possible!

 

Riley: Damn that TNT has got to be going on his forth or fifth wind now!

 

Stevens: You were right earlier, Riley! These two are battling to death, their friendship is just a distant memory, all that’s left is their desire to prove who is better man!

 

Moving ever so slowly, Williams and TNT gradually roll to opposite corners. At the same time, both men pull themselves up, while the crowd keeps getting louder and louder! In cross corners, Williams and TNT stare across the ring at each other with a mixture of hatred and exhaustion.

 

Riley: It’s time for a shoot out, all we need now is some tumbleweed to come blowing by.

 

Stevens: SO IT ALL COMES DOWN THIS, A FINAL SHOWDOWN BETWEEN TWO RIVALS! IT’S NO LONGER ABOUT WHO’S BETTER, IT’S ABOUT WHO IT’S WANT IT MORE, WHO’S WILLING TO MAKE THE BIGGER SACRIFICE!

 

There isn’t a person in the building who isn’t standing, and rhythmically pounding their feet and clapping! Trembling with building rage, Williams and TNT break their silence with ear piercing battle cries! Charging out of their corners, Williams and TNT collide together in the center of the ring!

 

SMMACRAAAAAAAAAAAAACK!

 

A Burning Lariat connects, but a Running Elbow also finds it’s mark! Both men go limp and drop back in the direction they came from, while the crowd erupts with a deafening pop!

 

Stevens: BURNING LARIAT, RUNNING ELBOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOW!!!

 

Riley: OBVIOUSLY, WHOEVER GET’S UP FIRST WILL NO DOUBT GO ON TO WIN THIS THING!

 

Stevens: WHO HAS MORE LEFT IN THE TANK, IS IT WILLIAMS OR IS TNT?

 

Soapdish once again finds himself mumbling non sensible ten count, hoping that some one can get up some time soon. Split right down the middle, one half of the crowd chants for Williams, while the other side chants for TNT. Moving at a slugs pace, TNT slithers his way over to Williams, draping an arm over his chest for the pin!

 

Stevens: AND TNT IS THE FIRST STIR, MAKING THE COVER, BUT DOES DANNY ALSO HAVE SOME RESERVE ENERGY OF HIS OWN?!

 

Soapdish starts the count!

 

“ONE!”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“TWO!”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“THREE!”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Soapdish brings his hand down for the third final time, and quickly calls for the bell!

 

 

 

DING! DING! DING!

 

Stevens: TNT HAS DONE IT! HE HAS DEFEATED DANNY WILLIAMS, AND WILL GO ON TO FACE THE WINNER OF....

 

Riley: Tom Flesher!

 

TNT rolls of Williams’ dead body, but remains on his back, unable to stand even as Soapdish raises his head to make the win official.

 

Funyon: The winner of the match by pinfall, at 33 minutes and 58 seconds............TNT!

 

After the official word, total pandemonium breaks out in the arena! Thanks to Williams’ last running elbow, TNT’s eye is black and rapidly swelling shut. Soapdish gives the signal, and a doctor rushes into the ring, attempting to stop the swelling around TNT’s eye. Williams on the other hand is already up, not knowing for sure what just happened, or if he even won the match. All Williams knows it that the crowd is now chanting, “T-N-T!” over and over again for some reason.

 

Stevens: I think TNT may be injured, I don’t know, they’ve brought the doctor in to look at him.

 

Riley: Judging from the way he looks, and where that last elbow landed, I’m pretty sure he got a broken orbital bone. It’s no big deal, in fact, when I won the World Title, I fought the whole match with a broken orbital bone!

 

Stevens: Riley, will please stop trying to bullshit the newer fans. Clearly, TNT got the worst of this match, but in the end it was his desire to prove himself the better man that allowed him to jump over every obstacle that Williams put in front of him.

 

Riley: In lay man’s terms please.

 

Stevens: TNT simply outlasted Williams, and it seems that he is finally ready for another World Title reign.

 

Learning what just happened, Williams collapses to his knees, burying his face in his hands, trying to figure out what he did wrong, only to discover that he didn’t do anything wrong, he did everything he could, and still lost. Sympathetic to his cause, the “T-N-T!” chant morphs into “DAN-E!” chant. Danny will have none of it, he slides out of the ring, and marches down the aisle with his head hung down in disappointment.

 

Stevens: Since we all know where TNT is headed, what now becomes of Danny Williams?

 

Riley: Maybe he’ll retire again, only to come back as a lame tag wrestler with a shitty gimmick.

 

Stevens: Ha,ha, like that could ever happen. Seriously, I wonder if Danny will continue his quest to become World Champion, or go back to the ICTV title level, or will he be unable to deal with tonight’s loss, and just walk away from wrestling?

[Guest Suicide King]

Calling out through the din of the Omaha Civic Center, the ring announcer known only as Funyon raises his voice, “Ladies and Gentlemen, this next contest is a STEEL CAGE MATCH! The only way to win to go over the top or through the door and have both feet touch the floor!”

 

With the sound of Funyon’s voice hanging in the air, the eyes of the fans shoot upward as they watch the smaller of the two cages suspended above their heads lower all the down to the ring. Scurrying about the metal monstrosity, the ringside attendants hurry to secure the cage to the ring as the crowd rises to their feet to get a better look at the structure. With wide blue bars in the classic WWF style, the cage is quickly secured around the ring and promises to provide a large amount of pain that is about to be doled out to the warriors who are moments away from coming to the ring.

 

Funyon continues his announcing duties, “Introducing first…”

 

Exploding from behind the curtain roars The Human Hurricane known as the Wildchild to the sounds of ‘The Everlasting Gaze’ as sung by the Smashing Pumpkins. Spinning in place for just a moment, Wildchild displays himself to the capacity crowd as blue and yellow fireworks blast into the air. Bobbing his head in time with the music, Wildchild looks out to the crowd with an eye that betrays an affinity for the crowd while his game face continues to hold. Racing down the aisle while pulling off the Suicide King mandated T-shirt that he wears to the ring, Wildchild tosses the shirt out to the crowd before coming face to face with the cold steel that stands twenty feet high in the air. Smiling at the site, Wildchild easily and quickly scales right up the side of the cage until he stands high above the ringside crowd and raises his hand to all the people that paid to come to the show.

 

“Did you see just how fast Wildchild got up there?” questions ‘Grand Slam’ Mark Stevens. “If any match plays to the strengths of this former circus star, it would have to be this escape style cage match.”

 

“But this match is not just about getting away from your opponent,” notes Bobby Riley, “This match between Wildchild and Ejiro Fasaki is about proving a point. And I think the only way you’re going to see one of these guys escape is when the other is willing to let the match end. When they say to themselves, I do not want any more of this.”

 

Looking out from the top of the cage once again, Wildchild neatly lowers himself down to the top rope before casually back flipping into the center of the ring with fluid ease. Landing right on his feet, Wildchild paws at the air for a moment to the delight to the crowd. Smiling at Funyon for a second, the ring announcer returns the friendly gesture before bring the microphone up to his mouth yet again…

 

“Introducing first,” calls out Funyon, “he hails from the beautiful Bahamas. He weighs in tonight at 214 pounds and is the reigning Smarks Wrestling Federation HARDCORE GAMERS CHAMPION! Please welcome, The Bahamas Bomber, WILLLLLLLDCHILLLLLLD!”

 

Pulling loose the hardcore title belt from around his waist, Wildchild shows it the entire crowd with a flourish. Handing the belt out the cage door to the referee manning the outside of the ring, Mathew Kivell, Wildchild steps back into the center of the ring while bouncing from one foot to the other as he warms up for the battle to come.

 

“Ladies and Gentlemen,” calls out Funyon in a less than enthusiastic voice. “Please rise for the playing of our national anthem.”

 

Immediately catching on to the new ritual of the smallest Magnificent Seven member, the Omaha crowd happily take their seats even with the sounds of Francis Scott Key’s anthem.

 

OOOOO say, can you see, by the dawn's early light,

What so proudly we hail'd at the twilight's last gleaming?

Whose broad stripes and bright stars, thro' the perilous fight,

O'er the ramparts we watch'd, were so gallantly streaming?

And the rocket's red glare, the bombs bursting in air.

Gave proof thro' the night that our flag was still there.

OOOOO say, does that star spangled banner yet wave.

O'er the land of the FREEEEEEEEEE and the home … of … the … BRAAAAAAAVE!

 

Stepping through the curtain at the sound of the anthem, the smarmy bastard that currently holds the United States Championship. With the title belt over his shoulder and wearing a Justice and Rule Jersey, Ejiro Fasaki makes his way down to the steel fate that awaits him. Stepping into the cage, Rule pulls the microphone away from a stunned Funyon with as much venom as he normally keeps hidden for tele marketers. Pulling the stick close, Fasaki begins to speak as Wildchild continues to pace back and forth in front of his intended victim.

 

“You know something,” begins the United States Champion, “I have never been so ashamed to be your champion. I am sure that if the founding fathers would be entirely embarrassed and shocked by your treatment of our National Anthem. Now you might not respect me… but respect the mother fucking song. But none of us are here to talk about your blatant disregard for the best damn country in the world. We’re here to prove a point, and that point is that Wildchild, although the hardcore champion, still isn’t on my level!”

 

Stirred to anger by the arrogance of that statement, Wildchild makes a move at Ejiro only to suddenly find a ring announcer directly in his path. Quickly pulling Funyon in front of himself, Fasaki bars the path of the Bahamas Bomber. Speaking from behind the announcer, Ejiro continues to ramble on with his little diatribe.

 

“Back off there Bucky! You know I’m not scared of you one little bit! I’m about twenty seconds away from beating to a bloody pulp! All I want you and all these people to know, is that when I beat Wildchild one more time right here and right now, I have this man’s agreement that he will serve as my official understudy! That he will watch me and learn from me and become the success that I am! So without any further ado…”

 

“OMPH!”

 

CRACK!

 

Shoving Funyon forward and right into the at-the-ready Wildchild, Ejiro gains the opening needed to slam the United States title belt right into the face of his Island foe. Falling the canvas in a heap from the shot to the face, Wildchild clutches at his forehead as Ejiro almost casually passes the title belt to his former hostage. Scrambling out of the way, Funyon almost dives all the way out of the ring and slams the door behind him to signal that the match has officially begun.

 

DING! DING! DING!

 

“And we are underway!” reports Mark Stevens. “Ejiro Fasaki using the coward’s way to get the early advantage over Wildchild… who he wants to train?”

 

“It’s no secret that Fasaki has always wanted to take Wildchild under his wing and teach him a thing or three about being a true world class competitor. And it looks as though in this match, he might finally have his wish!”

 

With Wildchild down on the mat, Ejiro takes the time to give the crowd a military style salute much to their vocal displeasure. Turning his attention back to his opponent, Ejiro pulls the stunned Wildchild right off the canvas to deliver a sharp punting kick into the sternum. Dropping down a knee from the force of the kick, Wildchild tries to shake off the blow to he head that he took only a moment before as Ejiro once again snaps a boot into Wildchild with his usual measured precision. Thinking he has Wildchild hurt enough to pull of something with a little more impact, Fasaki hauls the Human Hurricane up to his shoulder in position for a running powerslam. But instead of just sending Wildchild down to the canvas, Fasaki instead comes forward and rams Wildchild hard into he side of the cage with as much power as his frame could muster.

 

CLANG!

 

Impacting off the surface, Wildchild flops strait backward into the center of the ring as Ejiro Fasaki simply stands tall in the center of the ring. Pleased with his attacks thus far, the United States Champion walks over to the cage door and motions to the referee on the floor to unbar his path to freedom. But as he places a leg between the ropes, Fasaki looks back at the battered Wildchild and decides instead to go back to war.

 

“Ejiro doesn’t just want to win this thing, Stevens, he wants to make sure that Wildchild understands just what makes The Magnificent Seven so very dominate. It’s their iron wills, their steel hearts, and Tom Flesher’s really tight ass!”

 

“Oh good god!”

 

Driving a forearm into the side of Wildchild’s noggin, Ejiro continues to batter away using his initial advantage in the match to its fullest extent. Taking root in the center of the ring, Fasaki sends Wildchild into in the ropes, shaking the cage walls in the process. Dipping a shoulder, Ejiro sends Wildchild strait up in the air for a backdrop toss only to fully encounter the fullest extent of Wildchild’s unnatural agility for the first time in this match!

 

WHAM!

 

Elevating over the top even more than usual on the back toss, Wildchild manages to rotate all the way over almost to the standing position and hooking his legs underneath Ejiro’s shoulders. Quickly tucking in before Fasaki can even think about a counter, Wildchild flips into a tight roll and spikes Ejiro into the mat with a savage variation of the Code Red powerbomb! Immediately tossing Fasaki’s legs aside knowing that there will be no three regardless of the damage done, Wildchild continues to try and recover from Fasaki’s early onslaught. With both men staggering Wildchild is the first to gain purchase as he wraps an arm around Ejiro’s neck in a tight fitting headlock. Dragging Ejiro closer to the ropes, Wildchild lifts his legs into the air and uses the cage to push off and drive Ejiro’s face right into the canvas.

 

“Smart use of the cage there by Wildchild,” notes Grand Slam. “Instead of just mashing Ejiro into the cage, Wildchild is using it to make his aerial tactics all that much easier to apply.”

 

Pulling Ejiro up by the hair, Wildchild shoves him backward into the turnbuckles. Leaning back, Wildchild lets loose with a cracking chop against the pectorals of the United States Champion. Drawing a number of shouts from the crowd, Wildchild continues to blister across Ejiro’s chest with a shattering number of chops. Taking Rule by the wrist, Wildchild heaves him across the ring with an Irish whip and quickly follows up by leaping into his foe before rolling backward and sending Fasaki flying across the ring with a monkey flip. Awaiting Fasaki’s rise to his feet, Wildchild leaps up into the air and aims a dropkick right at Ejiro’s face. But the wily Fasaki manages to swipe the dropkick away and catch Wildchild around the calves as the Human Hurricane falls strait back to the mat. Cinching up on the legs, Ejiro leans backward with all of his weight and slingshots Wildchild strait ahead…

 

CLANG!

 

And into the cage he goes!

 

But not with his face!

 

Leaping into the side of the cage, Wildchild latches onto the side of the steel and scales up a few feet as Ejiro happily rolls up to his feet. Not knowing that Wildchild was totally unharmed by the counter toss. Looking over his shoulder as Fasaki finally turns Wildchild leaps off the side of the cage once again and locks his legs around Ejiro’s neck before driving him into the canvas with an amazing frankensteiner head scissors! Almost rolling all the way to his feet from the impact, Fasaki instead staggers a moment and stumbles strait back down to a knee. Looking at Ejiro with a sadistic smile, Wildchild waits on his opponent to get back up to his feet before knocking him strait back down to the mat with a wicked sidekick to the jaw.

 

“You have to admit, for all of Fasaki talking about how Wildchild needed focus,” speaks up mark Stevens, “he is doing a hell of job coming back from Ejiro’s early attack.”

 

“That’s all instinct!” answers Bobby Riley. “It’s not like Wildchild came into the ring with a plan in this thing. He’s just tossing everything he has at Ejiro and hoping that it sticks.”

 

Grabbing Rule by the ankle, Wildchild drags Fasaki into a more appropriate position for his purposes in the center of the ring. Moving over to the turnbuckles, Wildchild stops out between the ropes and the cage before hopping all the way up to the top turnbuckle… but he does not stop there. Climbing all the way up to the top of the cage with almost ridiculous ease, Wildchild makes no effort to go up and over to the top in an attempt to escape. Instead taking up a secure position on the second rung from the top, Wildchild looks to do some serious damage from almost twenty feet in the air! Steadying himself for an extra moment due to his insane height in the air, Wildchild propels himself even higher in the air as he looks to BURY Fasaki underneath a huge frog splash!

 

But he doesn’t!

 

“HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT!” roars the crowd.

 

“Ejiro got the knees up!” reports Mark Stevens. “Wildchild just impaled himself on Ejiro Fasaki!”

 

“You were talking about focus?” laughs Bobby Riley. “Wildchild wanted to hurt Fasaki an ended up destroying himself in the process!”

 

Clutching at his ribs as they explode within his chest, Wildchild spasms across the mat in an orgasm of pain. Rolling himself into a fetal position, the Human Hurricane battles for breath as a recovering Fasaki makes his move.

 

“Ejiro’s making a run for it,” calls out Riley as Ejiro starts to worm his way towards the ringside door where referee Matthew Kivell has opened up an avenue for escape.

 

Dragging his wounded carcass in that direction from the mat, Ejiro Fasaki uses the ropes to drag himself closer and closer to escape, not victory as Wildchild’s obvious attempt to cripple the United States Champion was not lost on him. But before he can crawl his way out of the ring, Ejiro Fasaki finds a vise clamped down on his ankle. For although the Bahamas Bomber is in a world of pain he still is not about to just allow Fasaki to escape the torture that Wildchild still has in store for Rule. But is Ejiro that strikes first as he pulls himself up to his feet with the Hardcore Gamers Champion still locked on to his ankle. Stomping down with his free leg, Ejiro kicks away at Wildchild’s wounded sternum enough to break Wildchild grip on his leg. Pulling Wildchild off the mat for a second, Ejiro snaps him back down to the canvas with a riveting vertical suplex that does no favors for Wildchild’s battered ribs. Rolling up and off his adversary, Ejiro runs the ropes and hops up to the middle rope and springs backward with a lionsault that continues to do damage to the Bahamas Bomber.

 

Stevens reports to the fans, “Ejiro Fasaki has decided to focus on those ribs and I don’t think that can really be a surprise at this juncture. The United States Champion’s style has always been to get a person injured and go right at that point of attack.”

 

“Gee, you would have thought that someone would have told you that Ejiro was really much more focused than Wildchild,” answers a sarcastic Riley.

 

Not bothering with a cover due to the rules of the contest, Fasaki pulls a coughing Wildchild off the canvas and sends him stumbling backward into the corner across the ring from the door. Putting Wildchild’s arms over the top rope, Ejiro opens The Bahamas Bomber up and gives himself a really open target as he drives a roundhouse fist right into the breadbasket time and again. Slicing a kick into Wildchild as a final swipe at the ribs, Ejiro watches on as Wildchild falls forward to his knees and desperately attempts to get his wind back. But Rule is simply not going to stand there and wait for Wildchild to get himself together. Grabbing the side of the cage, Ejiro starts to pull himself up the ropes in an attempt to get away from the very dangerous hardcore champion. But once Fasaki has his feet on the top rope, his path is barred from going any further as Wildchild stumbles over and sneaks a right hand into Fasaki’s stomach. Winded, Ejiro stays immobile on the top as Wildchild makes the move after his opponent.

 

“Oh this is dangerous,” notes Stevens, “with both men up that high and Wildchild hurt so much already… OH MY GOD!”

 

WHAM!

 

From his position next to Fasaki, The Human Hurricane takes to the air and hooks Ejiro around the legs on the way down before sitting out and driving Fasaki strait down to the mat with a savage sunset flip powerbomb!

 

“HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT!”

 

Slamming the back of head against the canvas, Ejiro rolls all the way over to his stomach from the rebounding force of the impact. Rolling up to his feet backward, Ejiro falls all the way backward into a corner as Wildchild tries to recover himself from the force of the impact of his own powerbomb. But The Human Hurricane is still the first one to have his wits together enough to make the first offensive thrust. Rushing forward at Fasaki, Wildchild springs into he air and makes an incredible spin in the air before crashing headlong into Rule with an astounding Blue Crush splash in the corner. But even delivering a move of that magnitude is enough to prove to Wildchild that his ribs are not up to snuff as he holds them tightly and collapses to the center of the ring. Not feeling much better Ejiro flops down to his seat in the corner as Wildchild fights to keep his chest together under the circumstances.

 

“And that’s the difference between these two,” illustrates Riley, “Wildchild just injured himself once again and why? Because he doesn’t take the time to stop and think about what he’s doing before he does it.”

 

Still even with that tactical mistake, Wildchild is the first one to get up to his feet. Staring down the barrel of his sites, The Human Hurricane sees Ejiro holed up in the corner and rushes froward t hopefully do some more damage to his wounded adversary. Leaving his feet as he comes forward, Wildchild plants those bare necessities right into the face of his opponent with a devastating sliding dropkick that causes the entire cage to shake with the fury of its impact. Getting to his feet once again with a hand solidly placed against his ribs, The Bahamas Bomber gathers Ejiro out of the corner with a handful of hair and props the United States champion up on his feet in the center of the ring. Quickly snapping a kick into Ejiro’s thigh with a surgical precision, Wildchild gives himself the opening to head into the ropes for some momentum as Ejiro falls down to a knee for a moment. Leaping into the air on the rebound, Wildchild aims a forearm right Ejiro’s plump skull and knocks the member of The Magnificent Seven strait down to the mat with as much of his body weight as he can put behind it. Landing on top of Fasaki with his body, Wildchild mounts his arch villain and punches away with a series of harsh blows right into Fasaki’s right eye.

 

“Yet even with this amount of punishment being dished out,” notes Riley, “Wildchild isn’t making any attempt to get out of that cage. He’s intent on doing damage instead of getting the victory!”

 

Stevens replies, “Indeed he is and rightly so! For his whole SWF career, Wildchild has had to put up with Ejiro dogging him the entire way. This is his opportunity to finally bat away the fly that’s been in his face for months.”

 

Finally getting off his mount, Wildchild roars out tot he crowd with an almost maniacal anger. Pawing at the air for a moment, the former circus star signals that he is going to go a little bit farther than a few punches in this attempt to put Fasaki away. Snagging the confounded United States champion from behind as he rises, Wildchild hooks both of Ejiro’s arms and lowers his head into Fasaki’s spine before lifting him up for the Wild Ride…

 

“ARGHHHHHHHH!”

 

“He couldn’t hold Fasaki up! His ribs gave way!”

 

His energy shorting out as he goes to lift Ejiro over his head, Wildchild cannot hold onto his adversary as Fasaki’s feet once more touch the ground. Quickly switching behind his wounded opponent, Ejiro grabs Wildchild by the hair and surges ahead to send Wildchild’s face ricocheting right off the cold hard steel of the cage!

 

CLANG!

 

He face shattering upon impact with the steel, Wildchild falls to the canvas with a wounded howl as Ejiro clings to the top rope to keep from falling to the mat himself. Almost unconscious from the pounding that he’s already taken in this contest, Fasaki is slow to capitalize on his advantage, but he capitalizes none the less with a punting kick right into Wildchild’s rib area. Rolling away from his attacker while clutching at his chest, The Human Hurricane coughs for as much air as his wounded lungs can draw into him. But Fasaki is not about to just let Wildchild gain back his strength without providing a little of what he would call help. Grabbing Wildchild by the arm, Ejiro whips his potential protégé into the ropes and swings out an elbow as a greeting upon his return. But even with as little strength as he still has remaining, Wildchild still has his wits about him enough to duck underneath the path of the elbow and to continue to run the ropes in the hope of finding an opening. But instead on the rebound, he finds Ejiro attached to his chest as he picks The Bahamas Bomber up into a side suplex position. But instead of just dropping strait downward, Fasaki extends a knee and drives Wildchild down with a side backbreaker that does nothing good for Wildchild’s already wounded back and ribs area.

 

“Ha! See this is exactly why Wildchild needs the training Ejiro Fasaki has been so willing to hand over,” chortles Riley. “I bet you that Fasaki would never treat one of his own personal students in this manner. He would just have to tell Wildchild stuff, not beat it into him firsthand.”

 

Increasing the pressure across Wildchild’s back and ribs, Fasaki refuses to allow the Bahamas Bomber to simply roll off his knee. Instead placing his hand against Wildchild’s chin, Fasaki presses down on his adversary to further work to weaken his back. Finally satisfied after a moment of torture, Rule finally just pushes Wildchild off his knee and allows The Human Hurricane a moment to get his wind together. But Ejiro is not about to let Wildchild more than that one moment to get his body together. Grappling with Wildchild for a moment, Ejiro pushes the Bahamas Bomber back into a corner and begins to bury a number of short shoulder blocks into his chest. Leaning back for a moment, Fasaki pops an elbow into the side of Wildchild’s noggin if for no other reason to remind Wildchild of the potent weapon. Then taking Wildchild by the wrist, Fasaki flings him across the ring with an Irish whip that further jars the body of the high-flying grappler. But as Ejiro comes running forward, Wildchild meats the charge with a barefooted kick to the mouth.

 

“Quick thinking by Wildchild!”

 

Riley corrects Stevens immediately, “Thinking? He’s just reacting! He’s got no strategy!”

 

Propelled out of the corner by the kick, Fasaki tries to get his wits back about him as Wildchild pulls his body up to the middle rope and awaits Ejiro’s return to the corner. Seeing Fasaki’s head finally pointing in his direction once again, Wildchild leaps out and hooks Fasaki for a Tornado DDT. But instead of going over, Fasaki rapidly shifts fast enough to get his feet underneath him and avoid getting spiked into the canvas. Quickly Ejiro ropes his leg behind Wildchild’s and pops his head loose from the front facelock. Stepping forward, Fasaki buries Wildchild in the mat with a sense staggering STO that drives even more damage into The Human Hurricane’s busted ribs. Rolling off the damaged body of his opponent, Ejiro Fasaki breathes in deeply himself from the amount of punishment he’s had to absorb himself during this brutal cage encounter. But still, Fasaki has the stamina to continue on here and pull Wildchild up to his wobbly feet. Hooking Wildchild up for what looks to be another suplex attempt, Ejiro instead pulls the former circus performer over to the turnbuckles and sets him up right on the top rope.

 

Riley rants into his microphone, “Oh ho! It looks to me like Ejiro wants to pick things up a bit! POW!”

 

Stevens answers back, “But this is a big risk, Bobby. Any fall from that high in the air is going to prove to be a tremendous impact for both competitors.”

 

Climbing up right behind Wildchild, Fasaki hooks Wildchild’s arm over his shoulder and looks to superplex the Bahamas bomber all the way into the center of the ring. But as he tries to force Wildchild over, Fasaki finds his power display barred by an odd blocking technique. Reaching behind him while standing on the top rope, the high flyer grabs a handful of the steel cage in order to keep from being sent over with the superplex. Exhausted from the effort of trying to suplex Wildchild, Ejiro’s effort cease for a moment and allows Wildchild to sneak a right hand into the breadbasket of his opponent. With Ejiro stunned for a moment, Wildchild reaches around with his free arm and hooks Ejiro’s far leg and lifts Rule high into the air.

 

“Oh what the hell!” shouts out Stevens as the crowd all rise to their feet in concert. Waiting for what they all seemed to know was coming…

 

WHAM!

 

“WILD RIDE NUMBER TWO OF THE MOTHER F’N TOP!”

 

Cracking his neck against Wildchild’s shoulders, Ejiro spasms like a fish brought onboard during the Bass Masters Championship. But Wildchild is not immune from the pain of jolting against the canvas from such a height. Clutching at his chest, Wildchild rolls over onto his own stomach as Ejiro comes to a resting position flat against the canvas.

 

“And both men are down!” reports Stevens to absolutely no one’s surprise. “The first man to get to the door is going to be out of there!”

 

Slowly crawling towards the door first is the Bahamas Bomber! Moving as slowly as one would expect Wildchild heads to the door so aptly opened by the referee on the floor. Inch by inch, step by step, slowly he turned … to find Ejiro Fasaki latched onto his ankle! With his hands on the side of the apron and breathing free air, Wildchild pulls valiantly to get himself out of the ring but still Fasaki remains adamant that the Human Hurricane will not be touching the floor on this occasion. Finally placing a foot against the bottom rope, Ejiro manages to row the boat and pull Wildchild out of the doorway now closed by Matthew Kivell. Pulling Wildchild back and between his legs, Ejiro clamps down with a leg scissors and works to crush The Bahamas Bomber’s ribs with as much power as his broken body can provide. Pulling Wildchild’s chin back with one arm, Ejiro Fasaki begins to club away at his potential protégé’s upper chest with hard forearm shots in a viscous attempt to simply cripple the shoeless bastard.

 

WHAM!

 

WHAM!

 

WHAM!

 

Releasing his grip finally after all the pounding, Ejiro allows Wildchild to scramble free of his grip and roll into a virtual fetal position on the canvas. Crawling up to his feet after doing so much damage in such a calculated way, Fasaki breathes heavily as he leans against the cage for a moment. Shaking his head of the cobwebs placed there by the top rope Muscle Buster, Ejiro still has enough in his tank to begin the climb up the side of the cage in a corner. Slowly moving carefully up the side of the steel, Ejiro manages to get as far as standing on the top rope before Wildchild manages to pull himself together enough to get up to his feet and snag a hold of Fasaki by the ankle. With Fasaki no longer able to climb up the cage with the weight of Wildchild attached to his leg, The Human Hurricane reaches up with his other hand to gain a handhold on Fasaki’s kneepad. Scaling up Fasaki’s body grab by grab, Wildchild soon finds himself side by side with his opponent. But being so close to Fasaki now precludes Wildchild from continuing to keep Fasaki from moving up the cage towards escape. So further up both up the side of the cage even higher in a desperate race to head over the top to the floor.

 

“They’re twenty feet in the air and the one who falls sure as hell is not going to have a nice trip!”

 

With both men up on the side of the cage wall they find themselves perched high in the air on precarious footing. Only a leg throw away from being up and out of the cage, Wildchild and Ejiro resort to what all world class athletes resort to in times such as these: hard punches right in the face.

 

EJIRO WITH A RIGHT!

 

WILDCHILD WITH A RIGHT!

 

EJIRO!

 

WILDCHILD WOBBLES!

 

WILDCHILD FIRES BACK!

 

EJIRO WOBBLES!

 

WILDCHILD WITH ANOTHER RIGHT!

 

ANOHER RIGHT!

 

RIGHT!

 

RIGHT!

 

EJIRO KICKS HIM IN THE GROIN!

 

OHHHHHHHHHHHH!

 

Finally finding enough of a perch to take one foot off the side, Ejiro slams it strait up into the crankshaft of his opponent with a sort of violent glee most people get from killing insects. Shocked by the maliciousness of the blow, Wildchild loses his grip on the side of the cage with one hand and hangs from the other with only the slightest amount of balance remaining. Clearly to the fans watching the moment, it seems that even a mere breeze could knock the Bahamas Bomber off his perch and to the canvas below. But Fasaki has even worse plans than that for The Human Hurricane. Finding his footing once again on the cage, Ejiro gets a better grip on the stunned Wildchild himself around the waist. Jerking Wildchild free of the cage, Fasaki waits a moment to allow the horror of the moment to become clear to the entire audience before executing his master plan. Finally satisfied that his plan has come to fruition, Ejiro drops Wildchild’s throat right on the top edge of the cage!

 

“HOTSHOT OFF THE TOP!” screams Mark Stevens as Wildchild’s body rebounds off the cage and begins its long descent to the mat below!

 

WHOOOOOOOOOOOMP!

 

“GOOD GRAVEY!” shouts out Riley as the corpse of The Human Hurricane smashes against the canvas with his shoulders from a height of almost twenty feet in the air.

 

“HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT!” chants the crowd.

 

The life crushed out of him from that horrible fall, all Wildchild can do is lie on the match and tremble from the pain. And as Fasaki is already stationed at the top of the cage, there is nothing to do but watch as Ejiro tosses his body up and over the edge and slowly lower himself all the way to the arena floor. From their seats around the ring, the crowd registers their severe disappointment even before Fasaki finally touches the floor and they hear the signal that the match is now over.

 

DING! DING!

 

“Ladies and Gentlemen,” reports Funyon, “the winner of this contest, The SWF United States Champion EEEEEEJIROOOOOO FASAKI!”

 

“YESSS! Finally! Wildchild will have to submit to the knowledge of the masterful Ejiro Fasaki! And no one can complain that Ejiro broke the rules, since there weren’t any to begin with!”

 

Hitting the floor and collapsing immediately, Ejiro raises an arm to the people who are only too happy to continue their disparaging commentary for the ending of this contest. But even as the referee squirts into the ring to check on the condition of the high flyer, Fasaki manages to pull his body up against the side of the cage. Moving over to the timekeeper, Fasaki snags away both the United States Title belt as well as the Hardcore Gamers Title that still belongs to Wildchild. Coming through the same door as the referee, Ejiro Fasaki wanders over to the hump of humanity that used to be Wildchild. Almost casually nudging Matthew Kivell away from his new charge with a kick to the back of the head, Ejiro looks poised to add even more punishment to the downed Human Hurricane.

 

“Oh come on,” calls out Mark Stevens. “There is no reason for Ejiro Fasaki to do anything to Wildchild! The match is over!”

 

Wildchild looks up at Fasaki with a furious glare, wary of any on coming chicanery. But with no air coming into his lungs and a completely battered body, is there really anything he can do to stop his new cruel master?

 

 

 

Who simply drops the Hardcore Title onto the chest of his new student?

 

 

 

“Come on,” mouths Fasaki as he nudges his head in the direction of the ramp way back to the dressing room.

 

Grabbing Wildchild by the arm, Fasaki pulls the stunned Hardcore Champion off the mat. Leaving the Bahamas Bomber behind in the cage, Rule steps between the ropes and out of the ring. Turning back to Wildchild, Fasaki motions for the defeated man to follow him before heading back up the ramp. Slowly and cautiously following his new sensei, Wildchild looks carefully for any sign of deceit as he struggles behind the United States Champion.

 

“What an odd situation we have here fans,” notes Stevens. “One just has to wonder what the devil Ejiro Fasaki has in store for Wildchild now that they are tied together as teacher and student.”

 

“It will only lead to success for Wildchild!” calls out Riley. “He’ll be a wrecking machine! Just you wait!”

 

“Well that’s a question for another time, because as they lift the cage back into the sky we’re only moments away from deciding just who will prove the dominant tag team in the SWF. The Unholy Trinity, International Incident and Double Jeopardy are about go at it in a triple threat tag team explosion!”

[Guest Suicide King]

“Welcome back to Ground Zero.” exclaims “Grand Slam” Mark Stevens. “We just witnessed one hell of a match between the Wildchild and Ejiro Fasaki, but Wildchild has yet to clear the ring.”

 

“What’s he waiting for?” ask Bobby, with a slight sigh. Obviously getting annoyed... as if anyone really cared. “Does he want round two already?”

 

“I think he’s just regrouping himself,” replies Mark, reminiscing on the match that ended only moments ago. “that was a hard fought battle.”

 

Inside the ring, a noble referee pulls the Bahama Bomber to his feet, and tosses his arm over his shoulder. Slowly the two begin to edge towards the ropes, which surprisingly ignites a mighty cheer of appreciation from the crowds. Not being one to ever turn his back to his fans, the Wildchild stops in mid step, turns, and throws his arm out to the crowds.

 

“Well it looks like we are just about ready for our next match up.” says Stevens, preparing to get these fans at home on the edge of their seats with excitement for this next match.

 

 

 

When suddenly... the arena plunges into an eerie darkness. The only source of light comes from the crowds with glow sticks, lighters, and match sticks. To the well trained SWF smart mark, this could only mean one of two things. Either someone is a bit antsy to get their match started, or the Wildchild is about to have a surprise visitor.

 

“Damn it,” gripes Riley, “I told King not to ignore that past due notice!”

 

A hiss pours through the speakers just before...

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“I’M TOO SEXY FOR MY SHIRT!”

 

 

“TOO SEXY FOR MY LOVE, LOVE, LOVE, LOVE, LOVE’S GONE AWAY!”

 

 

Like a scene from the eighties, the dance beat driven “I’m Too Sexy” by Right Said Fred bumps and grinds it’s way through the arena as a multitude of colored lights begin to flutter, pulse, flash, and strobe all over the arena!

 

“What the hell?” says Mark Stevens, not sure what to say... especially to the choice of music. “Who’s using this tune?”

 

“I’m not quite sure,” replies Bobby Riley, “but whoever it is must be brave.”

 

“You would have to be.”

 

Unsure of what to make out of this spectacle, the audiences remains almost dead silent. Inside the ring, the Wildchild stands motionless, keeping his eyes focused on the curtains for this unexpected visitor.

 

“It’s Michael Craven!” cries Mark Stevens as a shadowy figure swipes aside the curtains, stepping out onto the stage. “No wait... it’s kind of dark, and a little hard to see, but that just may be...”

 

 

BOOOOOOOM!!

 

 

The arena quivers from the sudden explosions of pyrotechnics rocketing towards the stratosphere, which light up the building just as the words: “I’m Too Sexy For My Shirt! Too Sexy For My Shirt!” boom out from the speakers!

 

“Son of a bitch!” says Mark Stevens as enough light shines down to reveal this visitor. “It‘s Johnny Dangerous!!”

 

Johnny Dangerous - The Barracuda - The Smarks Wrestling Federations only American Spy, with the untouchable record of four and three billion... yea... anyway. Departing from his usual choice of attire, that being a sporty black suit or Tuxedo to slick black slacks, black Alligator skin shoes, and a rather tight fighting black twill shirt. (To show off those defined yet not bulging muscle mass to the ladies). When he smiles it is still that same million dollar smile that could melt a woman’s heart from a hundred feet away, but his face is rather... unkempt. Where he was usually a neat and clean shaven man, stubble has peaked through the pores of his skin. His hair slicked back, and held in place by massive amounts of gel, with a lit cigarette dangling from his mouth. This is not your mommas kind of spy, no, this is the kind we weren’t suppose to talk about.

 

The second the crowds come to the realization of who has paid them a visit today, a rather profound cheer explodes from them. Those close to the crowd barricade rush in to get a closer look, while those privileged enough to be equipped with flash photography let the snapshots fly!

 

“My word,” shouts Mark trying to make sure his voice is audible enough over the booming crowd noise, “Johnny Dangerous has really let himself go!”

 

“I wonder what Wildchild thinks of this new look?” wonders Bobby.

 

While the Wildchild does Wonder something, it isn’t exactly about Johnny’s new threads. You see, the last time these two where in the ring together, the following transpired:

 

Johnny looks down into the ring with an absolute tortured expression on his face, as Wildchild crawls the final few inches towards his corner. Across the ring, Ejiro makes the tag to Judge Hearford, who steps calmly between the ropes. Rather than pursue Wildchild and prevent the tag, Mental stands calmly in the center of the ring, watching as the unsuspecting Bahama Bomber reaches desperately towards his corner.

 

 

 

Johnny weakly accepts the tag and steps into the ring, walking towards Judge Mental. Hearford’s sinister face breaks into a sneer, as he says, “I believe you have a JOB to do!” Johnny briefly looks into Mental’s eyes with a flash of his earlier intensity, but it quickly fades. Drawing his arm back, the Barracuda takes a swing at Hearford, as if in slow motion, and Hizzoner nonchalantly snatches his fist out of the air, twisting it downward into a fairly painful looking knucklelock. As Hearford stares at Johnny, his sneer growing ever broader, the Barracuda turns towards the referee and whispers, “I give up.”

 

Sexton Hardcastle, not sure that he heard what he thought he heard, leans in front of Johnny. “What?”

 

Johnny looks at him with lifeless eyes, his face showing no indication of pain whatsoever. “I said, I give up. Ring the fucking bell!”

 

Hardcastle raises his eyebrows in disbelief, but shrugs and walks over to the timekeeper. “It’s over,” he says. “Ring the bell!”

 

 

DING! DING! DING!

 

 

As you can see, that would kind of leave a bad taste in anyone’s mouth. Especially after Johnny avoided Wildchild for the next few shows, and his phone calls to simply disappear without a trace, and more importantly... an explanation.

 

While the music continues, Johnny takes one good puff of his Marlboro then carelessly flicks the remainder into the nearby crowds.

 

 

“GaHAAAAA!!!”

 

 

A round young boy, about eight or nine becomes victim number one as his left eyeball becomes infested with fiery hot ash from Johnny’s cigarette, searing his pupil, and scarring him for life... emotionally that is. Dropping his autograph book too the floor, the young boy runs screaming bloody murder for his mother, and instantly... the crowds launch into a overwhelming boo.

 

Johnny simply shrugs his shoulders, then prances down the ramp way, slides into the ring, walks briskly past the Bahama Bomber, and reaches for a microphone. He waits for the crowds to die down, then raises the microphone to his lips.

 

“Hello, Dominic.” says Johnny, with a sneer. “long time no see, eh?”

 

“It sure in the hell has been a while!” adds Mark Stevens. “Nobody has seen Johnny Dangerous since he walked out on his partner, and cost Wild and Dangerous the match, and that was back in early June!”

 

“He didn’t walk out!” snaps Riley. “He just quit the match, like a smart man would. When you know your beat, and you can’t win, you might as well just quit instead of getting pinned to the mat and look like a ninny!”

 

“That’s the mentality to have. When the going gets tough just quit.”

 

“I just thought I’d come to pay you a visit, Wildchild. After all the countless messages you left on my cell phone asking why, I figured it would be best to come down to Ground Zero and let you know. It’s the least I could do. But, afterall the messages you left saying ‘You destroyed Wild and Dangerous’... there is just one thing I have to say...”

 

The Barracuda lowers his head, pausing for a moment. Seconds later his eyes open back up, and his tender smile turns on it’s ear as he raises the microphone back to his lips.

 

“It wasn’t me who destroyed Wild and Dangerous!” snaps Johnny. “ It wasn’t me who decided they didn’t want to see Wild and Dangerous go on to become Tag Team Champions. No... it WAS THEM!!” snarls Johnny as he points out to the crowds. “Each and every last person who comes to these shows, and do you want to know why, Wildchild? While me and you were busting our asses night after night, trying to give these fans what they wanted to see, at least what they said they wanted to see, they were out supporting the enemy!”

 

“What is he going on about?” ask Stevens.

 

“Will you be quiet,” pleads Riley, “this man has something interesting to say. I think I speak for all the fans at home when I say, I would like to hear his message without you dribbling your comments through out the entire length of it!”

 

“What the hell are you talking about?” says Wildchild, although barely audible without the assistance of an official SWF Microphone.

 

 

 

 

“Sure they cheered when we came out, cheered while we worked our asses off, but when we went backstage for the night, what were they doing? “Look at them Wildchild, look at all of them!”

 

Following the direction of Johnny’s pointing finger, Wildchild looks out into the crowds. Old, young, male, female, to the Wildchild they are simply his fans. The people that cheer for him, and let out huge “HOLY SHIT!” chants when he is able to pull off a spectacular and breath taking big move. Knowing the Bahama Bomber, and how he sees things, Johnny begins to explain a little deeper.

 

“Look at what they are wearing. Those who are too cheap for an official SWF T-shirt are dressed in whatever they came here tonight in, but those with a couple of extra dollars... tell me Wildchild... who’s shirts are they wearing?”

 

Again, the Wildchild looks. Midnight Carnival, Edwin Machphisto, HVT, The Magnificent Seven, and Boston Strangler shirts seem to be the exceptional favorites, with Justice and Rule, Unholy Trinity, Thoth, Silent, and Frost Brand shirts being other favorites. Even a Leon Sharpe T-shirt managed to sneak it’s way in.

 

“Tell me Wildchild, where are the Wild and Dangerous shirts?” growls Johnny. “Hell, where are all of the Wildchild shirts?” Johnny pauses for a moment, giving Wildchild a fracton of a second to think before continuing. “I‘ll tell you WHERE, Wildchild. They are sitting in the same spot as they always have been. Right on top of the T-shirt Vendors table! So like I said before, while we were out giving them what THEY wanted, they were buying up everything Justice and Rule! Cap’s, T-Shirts, Bobble Heads! You name it, they bought it. I guess they didn’t like us enough to support us with their money like they did for Justice and Rule! Hell even the Unholy Trinity had a better sales rate than us, and one of them - Dace Night - Wouldn‘t be shit without us! Nothing!.”

 

“That’s not true at all!” retorts Mark. “Dace Night has accomplished what he has under the watchful eye of Danny Williams. There is no way Johnny Dangerous can take credit for that one!”

 

“I beg to differ,” says Bobby. “Dace Night took all the knowledge he could from Johnny then turned on his team mate when Johnny got promoted to the SWF.”

 

Hearing about enough of this speech, Wildchild extends his hand for the microphone. Surprisingly, Johnny hands it over.

 

“T-shirts, Johnny?” Begins Wildchild, frustration evident in his words. “Your tellin’ me dat you walked out on me over some God Damned T-shirts? Your pissed off because nobody bought our shirts? When da hell did buying shirts become a mandatory order for showing your support? Dis about takes the cake, because you know... I don’t care about any shirts, I’m not here to become a millionaire!”

 

“You tell ’em, Wildchild!” cheers Mark as the crowds let out a joyous cheer for the Bahama Bomber.

 

Pausing for a moment to relish his thoughts, and so the crowds can have a chance to settle themselves, Wildchild can almost begin to feel his anger boiling his blood. “Let’s talk about something else for a minute, Johnny. Let’s forget about who bought what, lets talk about what YOU did to ME! You, Johnny, turned your back on me jus’ when I needed you da most! Do you know how close we finally came to defeating Justice and Rule? It was that same night that you suddenly decided to quit! Quit on me, Johnny. How could you quit on me after everything I have done for you, HOW?”

 

Knowing that he could explode at any second, the Bahama Bomber knows he must give himself a chance to breathe before continuing. Matters don’t help much when Johnny Dangerous seems as if he could care less, smiling, and leaning ever so cozily against the turnbuckle.

 

“I put my life on da line for you, Johnny.” he begins again. “In order to let you keep your job in the Smarks Wrestling Federation, I went inside a twenty foot tall cage and fought a bitter war against Jamie Drazon! I bled for you! I put my reputation on the line for you! I believed in you, so you could just turn around and do dis, Johnny?! You are NOT da same man I partnered up with back in the Junior Leagues! You have turned out to be no better than the rest of them!”

 

With that Johnny snatches the microphone from the Wildchild’s hands, eliciting an “Ooh!” from the crowds for this daring maneuver! Not giving the Caribbean Cruiser a chance to engage in a stare down, the Barracuda paces the length of the ring several times, thumbing the side of his cheek before turning back around and continuing his rant.

 

“I’m no better than the rest of them, am I? You mean people like Justice and Rule? People like Tom Flesher and the Magnificent Seven, Thoth, Janus, and that miserable Michael Craven? Is that what you mean, Wildchild?”

 

“Your saying I have turned into one of the bad guys?” says Johnny, throwing up his fingers and making a quoting gesture when he says bad guys. “Let me let you in on a little tiny fact, Wildchild. This is something that I would have never believed had the Suicide King himself not instilled this knowledge upon me.”

 

“There are no good guys and there are no bad guys. What there is, in fact, is those who got out there determined to succeeded at any and all cost. Take a look at those around you like to label the bad guys. Tom Flesher, Judge Mental, Thoth... hell look at Ejiro Fasaki. He alone should be living proof of how much you can accomplish once you say to hell with the fans, and pay attention only to your needs. Once he decided to become more aggressive, and stay focused on his needs, he became one of the longest running European Champions the past year in the Junior Leagues. Then after that he became the SJL World Champion. All because he focused solely on himself instead of trying to make someone in the grand stands smile.”

 

“Besides, what does it matter if we cheat our way through matches or bully the opposition? These people here might boo at us, but none of that matters when they open up their wallets! Maybe, if you were as good as me, Wildchild, you would have realized this already.”

 

“Color me stupid,” says Mark Stevens, “but I think Wildchild is already better than Johnny Dangerous!”

 

“Let me leave you with this, Wildchild...” begins Johnny. “You have two choices. You can fall like the rest of them. Fall like you did tonight, every night, for the rest of your career or take my side. The choice is yours.”

 

With that Johnny drops the microphone to the floor, and slides out of the ring. His former partner Wildchild watches with an expressionless face, as we...

 

 

FADE OUT.

[Guest Suicide King]

I – can't – feel! The way I did before

Don't turn your back on me

I won't be ignored!

Time – won’t – heal! This damage anymore

Don't turn your back on me

I won't be ignored!

 

THE SMARTMARKS WRESTLING FEDERATION PRESENTS…GROUND ZERO~! As the camera returns to the arena for yet another breathtaking match, Lincoln Park’s “Faint” echoes across the Omaha Civic Arena, much to the chagrin of everyone who paid good money to see the SWF’s August extravaganza. The camera slowly pans around the crowd, all rabidly trying to get their signs on camera.

 

“REALLY BLUE PYRO”

 

“Sin 2 Win”

 

“Taamo 3:16 Says I’m Going through Glass!”

 

“F<white out> you Fasaki!”

 

“This music SUCKS”

 

After the final swing around the Nebraska arena, the camera pans over to the announce table, where we once again meet up with “Grand Slam” Mark Stevens and Bobby Riley.

 

“Welcome back to S-W-F GROUND ZEROOO!” greets Stevens, “and what a show it’s been so far! We just witnessed an absolutely brutal affair as Ejiro Fasaki and Wildchild took each other to the limit; Danny Williams and TNT had a masterpiece, and newly bumped John Duran made himself a force to be reckoned with!”

 

“But we’re not even close to being done yet!” chimes in Bobby Riley, “as we still have Janus and Crow in a Hell in a Cell match, Frost getting one BOILERMAKER through the glass courtesy of Tom Flesher, and Thoth regaining his World Heavyweight Championship from the lame-duck Boston Strangler!”

 

“Well, we’ll see about that, Bobby. But right now, it’s time for the Tag Team Championships to be decided. Dace Night and Va’aiga finally unseated Justice and Rule about a month ago, and International Incident, Mak Francis and CIA, became the number one contenders to those very titles. Now there’s a third team in there, and I don’t even feel like TALKING about them, because they don’t even deserve to be in this match!”

 

“What the hell are you talking about, Grand Slamball? Double Jeopardy debuted and…well…”

 

“Exactly. What have they done to be put in this match?”

 

“You didn’t let me finish! They deserve to be in this match, plain and simple. They’re a fantastic tag team.”

 

“…let’s get on with the match.”

 

The camera pans around to the ring, where Funyon stands in the middle with his microphone, which he speaks into.

 

“The following contest is a TRIPLE THREAT tag team match, scheduled for one fall, and it is for the S – W – F TAG TEAM CHAMPIONSHIPS OF THE WOOOOOOOOOOORLD!!!!!!!!!!”

 

After the initial pop from the Omaha crowd dies down, Funyon continues.

 

“Introducing first…”

 

QUIZ!

 

SHOW!

 

COME ON DOWN~!

 

Rod Roddy’s voice cuts off Funyon’s, booming all across Nebraska as Crystal Waters’ “Come on Down” belts out of the sound system. The crowd mercilessly boos the duo before they even enter the ring, as Vicky Black magically appears in the ring with the Wheel-of-Fortune board behind her. Finally, the two men emerge, Quiz dressed to the nines with a black suit and banana yellow tie. Show follows in his usual dressy attire, lumbering down to the ring as Funyon continues.

 

“…from Studio 3B, weighing in at a combined weight of 488 pounds, this is QUIZ and SHOW, this is DOUBLEEEEE JEOOOOOOPARDYYYYYYYYYYYYY!!!!!!”

 

“BOOOOOOOOOO!”

 

Quiz and Show both step between the ropes and enter the ring, standing next to the lovely Vicky Black, as they hold up their microphones to speak. The crowd, however, enthusiastically lets the tandem know just how much they care. Quiz ignores this and speaks.

 

“Welcome to tonight’s pay-per-view special! We have not two, but FOUR contestants in the studio tonight, and they are The Unholy Trinity and International Incident! Show, the answer is: The thing that all of these beautiful people in Omaha, Nebraska are going to see tonight!”

 

Show lifts his microphone up, and the crowd continues to jeer. Despite this, he shouts “WHAT IS AN ASS KICKING?!”

 

“You are correct, sir!”

 

Vicky Black reveals the words “Ass Kicking” on the Wheel-of-Fortune board in the ring. Quiz gives her a Richard Dawson-like peck on the cheek as she exits the ring, some ring workers taking down the board as Quiz and Show warm up for this encounter.

 

“Introducing next…”

 

CAN’T STOP, ADDICTED TO THE SHINDIG~!

 

Pyro, and the Omaha crowd, absolutely EXPLODE as the Red Hot Chili Pepper beat continues through the arena. Finally, from under the floor and through a cloud of smoke comes the man the crowd was waiting for, CIA! The Canadian Intelligence Agent walks down the ramp, pointing to the fans as he reaches the ringside area. From there he stands and waits, looking back to the entrance.

 

SO YOU WANNA BE A FRANCHISE, AND LIVE LARGE?

A BIG HOUSE?

FIVE CARS?

 

The crowd pops like a cherry in an amateur whorehouse! As “Rock Superstar” continues, CIA’s partner, the Intercontinental Television Champion, “The Franchise” Mak Francis finally appears on the stage as green pyro BOOM BOOM BOOMS away! Francis walks over and stands next to CIA, as the two slap hands.

 

“Their opponents, at a combined weight of 481 pounds, this is the Canadian Intelligence Agent, CIA, and the S-W-F Intercontinental Television Champion MAK FRANCIS, this is INTERNATIONALLLLLLLLLLLLLL IIIIIIIIIIINCIDENTTTTT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

 

The second set of challengers nod to each other and dash to the ring, sliding under the bottom rope. Eying Double Jeopardy carefully, they climb up adjacent turnbuckles, CIA with his arms in the air and the Franchise showing off his ICTV Championship belt. International Incident then groups together in the opposite corner than their opponents and wait for the champions.

 

“And finally…”

 

LET FREEDOM RING WITH A SHOTGUN BLAST~!

 

The crowd explodes with a shotgun blast as Davidian continues, and smoke billows out from the entryway. The red laser beams create a mesh of light as the two figures appear at the top of the ramp, amidst the chaos and destruction that is the Ground Zero set. The two men, SWF Tag Team champions Dace Night and Va’aiga, finally appear, Tag Title belts wrapped snugly around their waists.

 

“At a total combined weight of 542 pounds, they are THE S – W – F TAG TEAM CHAMPIONS OF THE WOOOOOOOOOOOOOORLD, DACE NIGHT AND VA’AIGA, THE UNHOOOOOOOOOLY TRRRRRRIIIINITYYYYYY!!!!!!!!!!!”

 

“Trin – Ah – Tee! Trin – Ah – Tee!”

 

Dace and Va’aiga march with purpose, stopping at the tip of the ringside area to salute the fans. Without further ado, they leap onto the ring apron and enter the ring, keeping their opponents in the corners of their eyes. Both men unlatch their tag titles and lift them high into the air as the crowd ROARS their approval. Finally, referee Nick Soapdish appears and takes the Tag Titles, holding them into the air for all to see. He hands them to the timekeeper, and then, after separating the teams, calls for the bell!

 

*DING DING DING*

 

All three teams consult each other briefly, but Quiz, CIA, and Dace Night all step forward as their respective partners duck between the ropes and to a corner, holding the tag rope tightly. As the house lights cast down on the ring, the Canadian Intelligence Agent and the High Priest of Horrorcore walk right up to each other and stand nose to nose, most likely NOT exchanging Thanksgiving recipes. The two are completely oblivious to Quiz, who frantically begins jumping up and down, trying to get their attention. Dace and CIA completely ignore the game show host, who then decides to do things the hard way; Quiz grabs a hold onto both Dace and CIA’s shoulders and turns them towards him, before pointing to them and speaking loud enough for the cameras to pick up:

 

“Survey says, it’s a bad idea to ignore Double Jeopardy!”

 

Dace and CIA turn to each other, nod, and then…

 

BOOM~!

 

…link hands, swinging arms and taking Quiz down with a big double clothesline! The crowd pops big as Quiz folds over backwards, right onto his stomach. CIA spends one minute too long gazing at his fallen opponent, and doesn’t see Dace send a big forearm right into the side of his skull! CIA staggers backward, into the ropes, and Night fires off three more rapid-fire forearms. With that, Dace grabs his arm and whips him with force to the other side of the ring. The II member hits the ropes and comes back, as Dace waits for him, bent over. Dace stands up as soon as CIA reaches him, flipping him UP and into the air with a high Baaaaaaaaack body drop!

 

“And we’re off without a hitch!” begins Stevens, “as Quiz got what he deserved, and now Dace and CIA are going at it!”

 

“Leave your bias at the door, Mark. And that’s all you are, a mark!” shoots Riley, “Just call the match fair and square, is that so hard?”

 

As Stevens mutters, “Practice what you preach…” CIA quickly rolls to his corner and slaps the hand of the ICTV Champion, who steps through the ropes to a pop from the Omaha crowd. Dace turns to Mak and nods, telling him to come and get it. Francis obliges, stepping forward and not hesitating in throwing a big forearm right at Dace’s head! Night shakes it off and shoots his arm forward, hitting Mak with an elbow! The crowd “oohs” at the exchange, but Mak shakes it off and rears back, hitting a knife-edge chop on Dace!

 

*SMACK* Whooooooooo!

 

Night budges back an inch, but keeps his focus on Francis, before swinging his other arm around and once AGAIN throwing his elbow right at Mak’s head! The Franchise staggers back, but trying to keep this show on the road, Mak bounces back a step and then hops forward, shooting his leg out with a super kick…but Dace ducks! As Francis turns around, Night lifts his arm up and swings, connecting with a HUGE elbow to Mak’s forehead, finally dropping him to the mat! After the initial reaction to the strike dies down, another voice can still be heard.

 

“Oooh, my goodness, that *has* to hurt! I mean, wow…”

 

Dace turns, and sees Quiz leaning against his corner, wincing at the striking display along with Show! The game show host notices Dace catching him, and his expression melts. Show, ever the team player, gives Quiz a pat on the back and pushes him towards Dace, who sends a stiff boot to the gut of Quiz, causing him to double over, falling to the mat in agony! However, referee Nick Soapdish points out that Show’s pat on the back was a tag, and the big man enters the ring, unbeknownst to the Tag Champion, who is busy grabbing Quiz by the scruff of the neck!

 

“Show with a blind tag into the ring,” Stevens calls, “and now both members of Double Jeopardy are in there!”

 

“Oh, don’t get your panties in a bunch,” Riley replies snidely. “This is Dace’s fault for his overwhelming ig’nance.”

 

Show gleefully enters the ring, grabbing Dace by the short hair and jerking him to a standing position. Night, pissed off, looks for an elbow to the face, but Show ducks, kidney-punching Dace to double him over! As Mak comes to in the other corner, helped by CIA, Show puts Dace in a standing headscissors, yelling at Quiz to “TURN UP, THINK FAST!” The crowd erupts in boos as Riley gleefully calls out “Show, you Maori you!” Quiz gets to his feet, as does Mak, who is still a bit wobbly. As Show lifts Dace up into powerbomb position, Mak comes around, seeing the move that Double Jeopardy is going to try to pull off.

 

Show hefts Dace up into the air, the crowd erupting in boos as he slams Dace into the mat with a vicious powerbomb! Quiz, seeing this, realizes his cue, and he charges to the ropes, while Mak charges, leaping over Dace’s body and shoving Show out of the way! Show stumbles back, falling down onto his ass as Quiz leaps into the air, latching onto the second rope with his feet and quickly springboarding back, backflipping in midair with a perfect “Wink Martindale” Springboard Moonsault…

 

BUT MAK FRANCIS IS RIGHT THERE~!

 

Quiz only sees him at the last minute as his body is completely vertical, and he can do nothing as the powerful Francis plucks the cruiser out of midair, keeping him completely vertical! The crowd erupts as the Franchise steps forward, jutting his knee out and driving Quiz’s shoulder right into it! Mak lets go of Quiz, and the cruiser grabs his shoulder in pain, rolling out of the ring! The crowd roars like a tiger receiving fellatio as Mak stands up, seeing Dace down next to him and Show just coming to… and he gets down, covering Dace!

 

“ONE!”

 

“TWO – NO!” Dace gets the shoulder up, and Francis lifts Dace to his feet, looking to break Dace further.

 

“Think Fast attempt by Double Jeopardy gets broken up by a Mak Francis shoulderbreaker,” Stevens notes with pleasure, “and it looks like International Incident is in control now!”

 

“Oh, but Mark,” Riley shoots back condescendingly, “you’re ignoring Show, sitting in the side of the ring, just WAITING to destroy and ASSIMILATE the other four men.”

 

“Bobby, you’re a horrible commentator.”

 

“Yeah, well, I’m a latent homosexual, what do you expect.”

 

Francis grabs Dace in a collar-and-elbow tieup, quickly shifting around, wrapping one meaty forearm around Night’s head with a textbook headlock. Quickly, Francis snaps Dace across his body, so that Dace lay flat on the mat in front of him, then gets down, holding the headlock with one arm and cradling the leg with the other as Soapdish makes the count.

 

“ONE!”

 

“T – NO!” Dace gets the shoulder up, and Francis releases the headlock, standing up. As he kneels down to pick Dace up, however, Show charges from the corner, charging straight into the Franchise and lifting a knee into his face! The crowd erupts in boos as Francis falls back as though hit by a gunshot, and Show stands over him, calling out “PASSWORD PLUS!” He points to Quiz, who calls back “$500, baby, $500!” The crowd, incensed at the cockiness of Double Jeopardy, increase the volume level on their booing, but Dace turns these boos to cheers, yanking Show’s right leg out from underneath him!

 

Show hits the mat hard back first, and Night rolls onto his stomach, pushing himself to his feet quickly. He grabs Show’s downed form, leading the big man over to his corner and tagging in Va’aiga! The crowd roars for the Maori as he grins hugely, stepping over the top rope and grabbing Show by the neck.

 

“Va’aiga is entering the ring, Bobby,” Stevens cheers, “and he’s got a bulls-eye on Matthews! As you’ll remember, the last time the Trinity faced Double Jeopardy, Show continually failed against both Dace and Va’aiga!”

 

“Can I even respond to that, Mark?” Riley whines. “I’ll just sit back and take that and throw it in your face when Show vindicates me.”

 

Dace steps out of the ring, allowing Va’aiga full control over the Chevy Chase lookalike. The big Maori grabs Show in a clumsy headlock, but the former Grappler knows how to break out of it, catching Va’aiga with an elbow to the ribs. Va’aiga delays a bit, looking up at the crowd, and a wiseass fan yells out “DID HE JUST DO THAT!?” Va’aiga grins, calling back “I THINK HE DIDN’T!” before turning, looking to strike Show with a massive uppercut – but Show sidekicks him in the leg, causing Va’aiga to lose his balance, stumbling to his left!

 

Va’aiga, however, is still very much into the match and very much angry at Show, and he charges him, looking for a huge lariat – but Show ducks, throwing up an arm and wrapping it around Va’aiga’s neck! This causes Va’aiga to stop in his tracks, cursing wildly at Show as the ex-Grappler stands up to his full height, throwing Va’aiga’s arm out from behind his neck and sweeping the Maori’s legs out from under him, shooting him into the mat with an STO!

 

“LOVELY PARTING GIFT BY SHOW!” Riley cackles wildly from his position. “I feel so vindicated right now!”

 

“That was an act of desperation from Show!” Stevens sputters, trying to discredit Show in a Jim Ross-like manner. Riley, however, just grins. “Is he a son of a bitch too, Mark?”

 

Show gets to his feet quickly, posing over Va’aiga’s grunting body. The fans, however, look at Mak, behind Show, reaching towards CIA and making the tag!

 

*SLAP!*

 

Show, mid-pose, sees Nick Soapdish signal the tag, and quickly whirls around – to see CIA, charging straight past him but wrapping an arm around his neck, hauling him down with a running neckbreaker! Show hits the mat hard, bouncing high into the air before landing on his stomach, groaning as he clutches his neck.

 

CIA, however, is just getting started, spinning around and getting to his feet so that he faces the rising Va’aiga, who stares a hole in CIA. The Canuck walks up to Va’aiga, his face roughly at Va’aiga’s chin. Va’aiga grins to the crowd… who respond with silence. Va’aiga plants two large hands in CIA’s chest, shoving him back, but the Canadian comes back at Va’aiga, putting his head under the Maori’s jaw and sitting out, stunning the big man with a jawbreaker!

 

“Jawbreaker by CIA!” Stevens puts over CIA like mad as he continues, “He’s got Va’aiga stunned and is threatening to make this match the CIA show!”

 

“Bull, Mark,” Riley fires back, “this match is the Quiz and Show show!”

 

CIA looks to the crowd for support, and unlike with Va’aiga they show it to him, roaring for the Carnie as he dances to the LEFT… and back to the RIGHT… and he does the two-step with a TILDE~! He reaches forward with his right arm, holding an imaginary bottle of beer in his hand and tilting his head back, drinking for the benefit of the crowd! The people go wild as CIA tilts his head back forward, raising his right arm for the Bionic Elbow…

 

But Va’aiga charges forward, leveling him with a lariat! The crowd goes mild as Va’aiga throws both arms in the air, yelling out wildly “TURN UP, KICK ASS!” The crowd, however, only mildly cheers, and we can see a fan in the background holding up a freshly penned sign reading “CIA should kick Va’aiga’s ass.”

 

“The crowd not responding to Va’aiga’s huge power,” Stevens notes, “which is a testament to the huge popularity of CIA and his partner, Mak Francis.”

 

“Were Va’aiga wise,” Riley says, “he would use this crowd to incite him and kill CIA and Mak. However, that would involve me calling someone from Australia wise. So I’ll say go Quiz.”

 

As Va’aiga grabs CIA, lifting him to his feet, Show reaches out to Quiz, tagging him in. Quiz enters the ring like a house of fire, charging at Va’aiga and throwing all one hundred eighty-nine pounds into the big man, catching him off guard and shoving him into the corner. Quiz grins as he backs up a bit, slapping Va’aiga across the face with a smooth left hand! Va’aiga’s head, however, stays focused on Quiz, and as the game show host clubs him across the face with a right forearm, he still refuses to take his gaze off of Quiz!

 

A bit angered by this, Quiz grabs Va’aiga roughly under the chin, rearing back and chopping him with a hard knife-edge!

 

*SMACK* Whooooooooo!

 

Va’aiga pauses a bit, then grabs his stomach in mock pain, letting out a loud “OWWWWWWW!” The crowd guffaws at this, and a furious Quiz, red-faced, cups Va’aiga’s chin again, rearing back with another hard knife-edge!

 

*SMACK* Whooooooooo!

 

Quiz backflips out of the corner now, looking for a moonsault kick – but Va’aiga charges out of the corner, wrapping his huge tree trunk-like arms around Quiz and bulldozing him into the opposite corner! The fans go gangbusters for this, and as Quiz hits the corner Va’aiga lets go of him, holding up his left hand for the benefit of the crowd! The crowd cheers and Va’aiga absorbs this like a sponge, catching Quiz with a hard left cross!

 

“ONE!”

 

Quiz grabs his face in pain, but Va’aiga, fueled by more energy than in the state of California, catches him with another left cross!

 

“TWO!”

 

Va’aiga does it once more without even stopping!

 

“THREE!”

 

Va’aiga leans back, holding out both arms! He puts his right fist to his mouth, kissing it quickly before raging forward, catching Quiz with a huge right hook!

 

“BOOOOOOOOO-YAH!”

 

The crowd goes nuts as Quiz topples out of the corner, grabbing his head in pain as Va’aiga stiffly rolls him onto his back, covering him for the pin!

 

“ONE!”

 

“TWO!”

 

“TH – NO!” CIA stomps Va’aiga on the back, breaking up the pin. Va’aiga stands up, his back to CIA, and he slowly turns around, growling at the Canadian, pure unadulterated rage in every step.

 

“Both CIA and Quiz try insult moves on Va’aiga,” Stevens remarks, “and both times Va’aiga comes back like a firestorm.”

 

“Yes, but Quiz got further on Va’aiga than CIA, his predecessor,” Riley wisely shoots back. “I think one more good shot from any of the five men will be the tranquilizer dart in Va’aiga’s ass.”

 

The Maori quickly drives his boot into gut of CIA, doubling him over, and then, veering from his usual balls-out brawling style, ducks under the Carnie’s arm and hooks him up for a backdrop suplex! As he lifts CIA into the air, CIA is able to shift his weight over and backflip out of the move. Now standing behind Va’aiga, CIA leaps onto the Maori’s back sideways, his arms hooking Va’aiga’s left arm and his legs hooking Va’aiga’s right arm for a crucifix pin! CIA tries to push all of his weight back to roll Va’aiga over, but the Tag Champion continues to stand his ground, and bellows a big Maori laugh, which the fans are only mildly amused over. As Va’aiga turns to the crowd, with CIA still on his back like a horsefly, Quiz rises from the mat and charges to Show’s corner, leaping up onto the turnbuckle. With Show’s support, Quiz leaps off the top rope and shoots his legs out, catching Va’aiga with a missile dropkick to the chest that causes him to stumble backwards, as CIA brings him down onto his shoulders with the elusive crucifix!

 

“ONE!”

 

“TWO!”

 

“TH-“ Quiz, not about to let CIA reap the benefits of his athleticism, drives his boot into CIA to break up the pin, but even the Maori Badass himself is quickly off the canvas. As the Canadian Intelligence Agent pulls himself up, Va’aiga gives a death glare to Quiz, and charges forward…

 

*SLAP*

 

…tagging in his partner, Dace Night, to a pop from the Omaha crowd! The High Priest of Horrorcore enters the ring, grinning sadistically at both Quiz and CIA. Dace tells both men to ‘bring it’, and ever one to bring it (even if ‘it’ refers to fun, laughter, and entertainment to game shows nationwide), Quiz charges forward, swinging his left leg around for a Roundhouse Kick, but the Horrorcore one ducks under the leg and captures Quiz’s entire body in his grasp, arching back and sending him over with a capture suplex! The lightweight nearly bounces off the mat from the impact, but crawls over to his corner to catch his breath. Meanwhile, CIA strolls over and lifts his knee into Dace’s midsection, catching him off guard. With Dace double over, CIA begins to rattle his back with forearm shots.

 

*SLAP*

 

Quiz, however, again makes the tag to his partner, Show, who casually steps through the ropes.

 

“Quite the interesting story here,” begins Stevens, “as Double Jeopardy seem to be making the most frequent tags.”

 

”That’s called being smart, Mark. S-M-R-T smart. Double Jeopardy is showing exactly what Tag Champions should be doing in a situation like this, which is keeping themselves fresh.”

 

“Bobby, I wasn’t saying they were the better team. In fact, Double Jeopardy has hardly had an advantage at all in this match!”

 

“What does that have to do with anything?”

 

Meanwhile, with Dace doubled over, CIA runs to the ropes and flips himself over Night, grabbing his legs and trying to force him down with a sunset flip. Instead of falling backwards, though, Dace drops forward to catch CIA in a pinning predicament, which CIA rolls out of the way of, and rolls to his corner, tagging the hand of Mak Francis as the crowd pops again!

 

The Franchise energetically enters the ring, which is now full of fresh men. All three men dart eyes for a second, waiting for someone to make the first move. Francis, however, the newest in the ring, doesn’t want to lose his momentum. With that, he runs at Show and swings his arm up, connecting one, two, three, and FOUR stiff punches to the big man’s chin, and then kicks him in the left leg, temporarily stunning him. With that, Franchise runs into the ropes and bounces back at Show, but the Chevy Chase look-alike rebounds and uses both of his paws to grab Mak around the throat, and then effortlessly hoists him up into the air, trying to choke the life out of him! As Soapdish begins to administer a five count for Show to release the chokehold, the big man drops Mak to the mat. Francis lands on his feet, but not for long, as Dace, behind the Franchise, leaps up and drives his boot into the back of his head with an enzuiguri! Show steps out of the way as Mak falls on his face from the force of the kick. Seeing an opportunity, Show runs into the ropes and comes back towards Mak, leaping into the air with his leg out for a legdrop…but Dace pulls Francis out of the way! As Show lands on his buttocks, Dace moves forward and swings his leg, connecting with a BIG kick to the face of Show!

 

*CRAAAAACK~!*

 

“Good lord!” shouts Stevens, “a Martin Gramatica-like kick there by Dace Night, knocking Show loopy! Just like their match before, Show really has been disappointing against Dace and Va’aiga!”

 

“Oh, Mark, stop kidding yourself,” shoots Riley, “…that was only on Bill Gramatica-levels.”

 

As Show falls flat on his back, Dace brings Mak up to his feet again wraps his arm around his head in a tight front facelock. Night milks the pressure for a few seconds, and then grabs Mak’s tights, hoisting him into the air upside down…but Mak uses his agility to drop down on his feet behind Dace, and he wraps his arms around him in a waistlock and pushes Night into the ropes. However, as the Franchise rolls back for a prawn hold, Dace holds onto the ropes and Francis only rolls backward. Night, seeing Mak up, charges forward and swings his arm for a lariat, which Mak ducks, and wraps in another waistlock on Dace. The Franchise then hoists Dace up into the air and lets go, sending the Tag Champion over and onto his neck with a Filthy German!

 

Mak stands up and raises his arms to the crowd, and then walks over to his corner…tagging in the Canadian Intelligence Agent! CIA leaps onto the top rope and for a reason unbeknownst to Francis, jumps off with his legs out…hitting the lumbering Show with a front dropkick to his head, causing Show to drop like a rock in the center of the ring! CIA gets right back up from the move and hops up and down a few times, gaining a bit of momentum as he notices Dace down by the ropes. CIA walks over to those ropes and steps between them, onto the apron. From there he uses the top rope to slingshot himself over, flipping over and down onto Dace with the Slingshot Senton Atomico! CIA doesn’t quit, and he jumps right to his feet again. Seeing Show up on his feet shambling along, CIA runs at him and spins around, gaining momentum as he swings his arms around for a Roaring Elbow…but Show grabs his arm in mid-swing! The big man flashes a big grin to CIA before grabbing his other arm and tossing him to the side, HARD onto the mat! The Canadian Intelligence Agent pulls himself up in the closest corner, but is caught by surprise from a…

 

*SLAP*

 

…as Mak Francis tags himself back in!

 

“Would you look at that?” adds Stevens, “It looks like the Intercontinental Television Champion wants more of the action!”

 

“On the bright side, Mark,” Riley says with a grin, “Double Jeopardy can now continue to destroy good ol’ Francine.”

 

The Franchise enters the ring again and sees Dace Night up and trading blows with Show, so he walks over and begins helping the Trinity member, surprising Show with a kick to the left leg and some punches to the gut. With Show dazed and confused (more so than usual, anyway), both Dace and Mak grab a hold of Show’s head with a front facelock, and grab a handful of Show’s dress pants. With that, they hoist the three hundred pounder up and over with a double suplex! The ring shakes from impact as Show rolls over, holding his back. Meanwhile, Dace and Mak both get to their feet at the same time, cautiously eyeing each other. However, seeing an opportunity, Dace backs up from Mak, and reaches behind himself, slapping the hand of his Maori partner!

 

“TRIN – AH – TEE! TRIN – AH – TEE!”

 

Va’aiga steps between the ropes and immediately walks towards Francis, getting right in his face. However, before any altercation between these two can occur, another slap is heard as Quiz enters the ring yet again! Walking without his usual swagger but a determined look on his face, Quiz marches up to Va’aiga and catches him with a huge slap to the face!

 

*SMACK* “Ooh!”

 

Va’aiga turns around to meet Quiz with an ear-to-ear grin, and then winds up his arm, swinging it for a lariat…that Quiz ducks! The game show host charges into the ropes and bounces off of them, coming back at the Maori with speed. However, instead of hitting the Champion, Quiz slides, baseball-style, between the Maori’s legs and drives his shoulder right into an unsuspecting Mak Francis’ knee! The ICTV Champion crumples to the mat, holding his formerly injured leg in pain.

 

“I told you! I told you, Mark! Mak Francis NEVER should’ve tagged in! Now, if I were both Double Jeopardy and the Trinity, I would isolate Mak and stay on that leg for a century! This is an opportunity if there ever was one!”

 

“Bobby, for once in this match, you are correct. Both teams, including the Trinity, who are accustomed to brawling, need to focus on that knee. However, it will be difficult to work in any submissions when there’s another man right there waiting to break it up.”

 

Va’aiga stares at Quiz, who begins stomping on Mak’s leg, and pulls him away. Before Quiz can even ask what the Maori is doing, he grabs the lightweight and hoists him up onto his shoulder, slamming him down to the canvas with a high angle bodyslam!

 

“BOO – YAH!”

 

Va’aiga begins to advance towards the fallen Quiz, but then he looks over and sees Francis getting up. With that, he walks to the vulnerable ICTV champion and picks him off the canvas, bending the bad leg and placing it on his knee. Va’aiga then hoists Francis, on his leg, into the air, and then steps forward, driving Mak’s leg into his knee with a vicious kneebreaker! Va’aiga holds onto the Franchise’s leg and spins around, falling down and twisting Mak over with a dragon screw legwhip!

 

“Bravo, Mister Maori,” begins Riley, sarcastically, “that’s the most technical expertise I’ve EVER seen from Va’aiga!”

 

“Bobby, it just goes to show you what these men will do to win, or in the Trinity’s case, retain, those Tag Team Championship belts.”

 

Va’aiga gets to his feet quickly, glaring at Mak with evil on his mind – but as if by magic he remembers the third man in the match, and turns around to look for Quiz…

 

WHO STIFFS HIM IN THE JAW WITH A SUPERKICK!

 

*CRACK!* “OOOOOH!”

 

The crowd very nearly lets out a cheer for Quiz, but as Va’aiga fades back, falling to the mat like a felled tree, they begin booing. Quiz, however, pays them no mind, his face a mask of determination as he calmly walks over to Mak, reaching for his corner, and grabs him by the left leg, pulling him away from the crowd to the crowd’s greater fury. Mak rolls over onto his back, looking to put both feet in Quiz’s chest to push him back, but Quiz grabs the other leg too! The crowd erupts in boos as Quiz holds Francis there for a few moments…

 

And then starts to turn him over! Francis fights it as hard as he can, frantically reaching towards CIA for the tag, but Quiz has him just out of reach, and using every ounce of strength he can muster he turns the Franchise over and into a Boston crab! The crowd erupts in boos as Quiz holds Mak for a few seconds in the Boston crab… then lets go of Francis’ right leg, holding him in a single leg crab! Quiz ramps up the pressure as the crowd erupts in boos, but these boos change over to cheers as Va’aiga, recovered from the superkick, comes out of nowhere to lariat Quiz out of his right dress shoe!

 

“VA’AIGA JUST LARIATED QUIZ OUT OF HIS SHOES!” Stevens goes nearly purple-faced from bellowing, “LITERALLY!”

 

“Oh, it was one shoe, Mark,” Riley says, unable to suppress a snicker despite cheering for Quiz.

 

Quiz lets go of the crab on Mak, Va’aiga’s huge power running him over and causing some great pains in his neck, and he grabs it in pain, rolling out of the ring. Va’aiga stares over the ropes at him, then grabs his shoe, throwing it down to Quiz and yelling “DON’T PRESS YOUR LUCK!”, which garners a huge cheer from the crowd! This reaction catches Va’aiga slightly off-guard, but he chooses to ignore rather than acknowledge, instead turning to Mak, grabbing the Franchise by the leg. Pulling him along like his leg was a leash, Va’aiga drags Mak over to his corner, tagging in Dace Night!

 

Night enters the ring calmly, a sort of proud aura surrounding his entrance as he grabs Francis’ leg, reaching forward and picking Francis up. As Mak reaches his feet, Dace keeps his hold on the Franchise’s leg, turning slightly and suplexing Mak over with a pretty Fisherman’s Suplex, slamming Francis hard onto his back and jarring his already-injured knee!

 

“Look at that!” Riley smiles broadly as he continues, “Dace using a variation on Mak’s finisher to diss him!”

 

“Shut up, Riley,” Stevens growls, “there’s the bridge!”

 

Indeed, Dace bridges, and referee Soapdish hits the mat…

 

“OOOOOOOOOOOOONE!”

 

“TWOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

 

“THREEEEEEEE – NO!” Quiz slides into the ring at the last second, dropping a huge double axe handle across Night’s back. The crowd lets some boos forth, and some cheers as well.

 

“Surprisingly,” Stevens calls, “Quiz gets some cheers for breaking up the fall on Francis.”

 

“It’s because those ignorant jackoffs like Francis more than Dace,” Riley replies. “If they had any taste they’d be cheering Quiz more often.”

 

Dace gets up slowly, turning around to face Quiz… whom, wanting nothing whatsoever to do with the High Priest of Horrorcore, dashes over to his corner, tagging in Show! The big man lumbers into the ring, as Quiz scurries out and Dace is forced to shift his plan of attack. Unsure of what to do, Dace simply offers himself to Show, and the big man obliges, locking up with Night in a collar-and-elbow tie-up. The High Priest of Horrorcore, however, shows his ring smarts as he knees Show in the stomach, doubling the huge Chevy Chase look-alike over!

 

Quickly, Dace places his left arm underneath Show’s right one, then putting his right arm under Show’s left. The crowd erupts for the setup as Dace holds Show in the double underhook for nothing but a brief moment before lifting Show up, placing the big man at a forty-five degree angle before falling back with the vicious high-angle double underhook DDT!

 

“DEFENESTRATION!” Stevens cries out in excitement. “Dace with the Defenestration on Show, and it could be all over here!”

 

Dace quickly rolls Show over, getting on top of the big man for the pinfall!

 

“OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONE!”

 

“TWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

 

 

“THREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE – TWO COUNT!” Mak Francis drops a desperate double axe-handle across the back of Night, and Night grabs his back in pain before sitting up, looking up at Mak with a death grin. Francis, seeing this, runs to the ropes, and Dace quickly gets to his feet, hooking Francis between the legs and around the neck as he comes back, slamming into the mat with a picture-perfect powerslam! The crowd erupts as Dace springs back to his feet, watching Mak intently and waiting for him to get up…

 

…but he grows tired of this rather quickly, walking up to the Franchise and grabbing him by the scruff of the neck, lifting him to his feet forcefully! The crowd, energized from the sudden quickening of the pace, can only grow louder as Night knees Francis in the stomach, doubling him over. Night puts Francis into a standing headscissors, grabbing the Franchise around the waist and hoisting him up into position for a powerbomb… then places his arms underneath Mak’s armpits, extending the Franchise’s arms into a crucifix position!

 

The crowd goes wild, knowing exactly what to expect as Dace pushes Francis as far into the air as he can… then drops him, catching Francis around the neck as he falls and sitting out with a vicious elevated neckbreaker!

 

“BLACK NOVA!” Stevens yells. “DACE NIGHT IS ON FIRE, HITTING BOTH SHOW AND FRANCIS WITH HIS FINISHERS!”

 

Francis grabs his neck in pain, rolling over towards his corner – but Dace has no intention of letting Mak get away with this, and he grabs Francis by the side, pulling him back onto his back and diving on top for the cover!

 

“OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONE!”

 

“TWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

 

 

 

“THREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE…”

 

The crowd goes absolutely REALLY IN ANGER, booing to their little hearts content as Show, out of pure desperation, reaches out and grabs Nick Soapdish by the leg, pulling him away from Dace and preventing him from making the three count! At what should be three Night lets go of Mak, rolling off of him – but as he doesn’t hear the bell he stands up, looking around for the referee! And as he surveys the ring, he sees Nick Soapdish, scolding Show!

 

“THAT SON OF A BITCH!” Stevens gets livid over the mic as he continues, “Show just cost the Unholy Trinity a retention of the tag titles!”

 

“WHAT A GREAT MANEUVER!”

 

“Stuff it, Riley… come on, Dace!”

 

The crowd’s booing of Show turns to uproarious cheering as Dace stalks over to the big man, grabbing him by the back of his purple dress shirt and angrily lifting him to his feet! Show looks at Dace, stuttering out an apology, but Dace is pissed and will have NO part of that, planting a stiff kick into Show’s stomach! The Chevy Chase look-alike doubles over, clutching his stomach in pain, and an angry Dace puts him into a standing headscissors!

 

“OH MY… HE’S GOING TO BLACK NOVA SHOW! THAT’S THREE HUNDRED POUNDS OF HUMAN FLESH!”

 

Dace wraps both of his meaty arms around Show’s midsection, trying to lift the big man up into powerbomb position – but Show latches onto Dace’s legs at about the thigh, disrupting Night’s balance and causing him to set Show back onto the mat! Realizing his second chance, Show grabs Dace around the knees, standing up to his full height and pushing Dace’s body up… up… up and over his own with a back body drop from nearly seven feet in the air! Exhausted from all of the pain he’s endured in the last three minutes, Show reaches out, tagging in Quiz!

 

The lone cruiser in the match wastes no time, climbing to the top rope quickly and looking out at Dace Night. Using what little time he has, Quiz refrains from a taunt, instead leaping off of the top rope, flipping over in midair and landing, shoulders-first, across Dace’s stomach!

 

“AMERICAN IDOL BOMB!”

 

Instead of rolling off Dace as is customary, Quiz keeps his shoulders on Dace’s stomach, reaching over with both arms and hooking Dace’s leg, looking for the pin!

 

“OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONE!”

 

“TWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

 

“THREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE – TWO COUNT!”

 

Mak Francis, still not fully recovered from the Black Nova earlier, comes out of nowhere to drop a huge elbow across Quiz’s exposed midsection! The game show host crumples, letting go of Dace as Mak falls over, exhausted – he’s taken so much punishment… he could use a tag…

 

CIA begins pounding on the top turnbuckle, rope in his hand, and the crowd chants in rhythm…

 

“FRAN – CHISE!”

 

“FRAN – CHISE!”

 

The chant continues as Mak looks up at CIA, and slowly begins crawling towards him… crawling… crawling…

 

 

NO! Quiz, still somewhat fresh, gets to his feet and cuts off Mak’s momentum, stomping down hard on the Franchise’s left leg! The crowd erupts in boos, but Quiz pays them no mind, grabbing Francis by the tights and lifting him to his feet. Quickly, Quiz grabs Francis by the arm and whips him into the ropes. Francis hits the ropes and comes charging back, and Quiz readies himself to hiptoss Francis…

 

BUT THE FRANCHISE SLIDES BETWEEN QUIZ’S LEGS!

 

The crowd roars as Mak, suddenly on a HUGE adrenaline high, pops up on the other side of Quiz! Before the game show host can react, Francis has both of his arms wrapped around Quiz’s midsection – and he throws Quiz backwards over his head with a huge Filthy German! The Franchise gets to his feet, posing in the middle of the ring as the crowd roars out his name!

 

“FRAN – CHISE!”

 

“FRAN – CHISE!”

 

“These fans are on their feet, Bobby,” Mark Stevens yells out emotionally, “and Mak Francis is the one who brought them there!”

 

“He needs to tag out! The dolt is standing in there posing like a fool, while he’s obviously *not* fresh… and if he doesn’t tag out soon Va’aiga is going to run him over!”

 

Indeed, Dace is pulling himself towards Va’aiga, his ribs in pain, and with the exchange between Quiz and Francis he’s been able to fly under the radar, so that he’s close enough to Va’aiga that as Francis turns around, he can’t stop him…

 

*SLAP!*

 

From tagging in the huge Maori! The crowd erupts as Va’aiga enters the ring, and Francis tries to dart over to CIA and make the tag, but it’s too late, as Va’aiga has a full head of steam and he pastes Francis with a HUGE lariat! He turns around, looking at the wobbly Quiz… and delivers a huge lariat to HIM! Va’aiga turns around once more, looking at Francis, unsteadily on his feet, trying to get to CIA…

 

AND HE LARIATS HIM!

 

“BOO – YAH, LARIATS FOR EVERYONE!”

 

The crowd goes absolutely NUTS, as Va’aiga turns around to see Quiz bounce off the ropes and come charging at him, and he looks for another lariat on the game show host…

 

 

BUT QUIZ ROLLS UNDERNEATH IT!

 

Va’aiga, not expecting Quiz to avoid the lariat, clumsily turns around, and Quiz leaps as high as he can, looking to dropkick the Maori right in the sternum…

 

But Va’aiga ducks underneath it! His reflexes heightened, the big man sees the dropkick coming, hitting the mat hard and exposing behind him referee Nick Soapdish! Unable to pull the dropkick in mid-air, Quiz kicks Soapdish right in the jaw, knocking him over and possibly out cold!

 

“HE JUST DROPKICKED THE REFEREE!”

 

“Stupid Soapdish, always getting in the way…”

 

Quiz scampers to his feet, looking at the fallen Soapdish and seeing if the dude is, like, dead… which makes him oblivious to Va’aiga, on his feet and picking up steam…

 

*CRACK!* “OOOOOOH!”

 

Va’aiga once again levels Quiz with a huge lariat, knocking him to the mat and almost as out cold as Soapdish! With nobody really alive enough to challenge him, Va’aiga pounds his chest in the middle of the ring!

 

“TURN UP, KICK ASS!”

 

“VA – ING – UH!”

 

“VA – ING – UH!”

 

As Va’aiga celebrates in the middle of the ring, Show takes advantage of the downed referee, entering the ring and stalking Va’aiga…

 

BUT CIA COMES OUT OF NOWHERE, catching Show with a shoulder tackle, so much momentum behind it that it sends them both rolling out of the ring!

 

“CIA WITH THE SHOULDER TACKLE! He’s had enough of Double Jeopardy’s cheap antics!”

 

“What an idiot! He just left his tired tag partner stranded alone in the middle of the ring!”

 

With Quiz not alive enough to challenge him, Va’aiga calls to Dace to get in the ring! The crowd erupts as Dace enters the ring and Va’aiga grabs Mak, putting the Franchise into reverse DDT position! As Dace leans on the ropes, readying himself, Va’aiga flips Mak over, hoisting him into the air and onto his shoulders in inverted powerbomb position! Dace bounces off the ropes, running forward as Va’aiga throws Mak to the mat, Dace lifting his right leg high and bringing it down across Mak’s neck with a vicious axe kick as he falls, hitting the mat as just another victim of the Decapitator!

 

“DECAPITATOR ON MAK FRANCIS! Even without a ref, Bobby, this one has to be over!”

 

On the outside, CIA sees Va’aiga rolling Francis over, looking for the pinfall. He goes to run into the ring, but Show grabs him by the bodysuit, pulling the Canadian back! CIA looks for a roaring elbow on the huge Show, but the Chevy Chase lookalike goes underneath the arm, grabbing CIA’s inside leg and arm and lifting him up into the air as though going for a Samoan drop!… but instead he pushes CIA’s legs into the air, dropping him so that his unprotected head lands against the thin plastic mats with a vicious sheer drop Angle slam!

 

“SHOWCASE SHOWDOWN ON CIA! Both members of International Incident are incapacitated, and it looks like it’s going to be either Double Jeopardy or Unholy Trinity surviving!”

 

Va’aiga, meanwhile, has the pin locked on on the Franchise, and the crowd is counting behind him, where the ref should be!

 

“ONE!”

 

 

 

“TWO!”

 

 

 

“THREE!”

 

 

 

“FOUR!”

 

 

 

“FIVE!”

 

 

But they cannot get to six, as Quiz drops a knee right onto Va’aiga’s back! The crowd boos him madly, but to the adrenaline-high Va’aiga this is like a mosquito bite, and he stands up, looking viciously at Quiz! Mak rolls out of the ring, licking the wounds caused by the Decapitator as Va’aiga turns to Dace.

 

“DECAPITATE HIM!”

 

The crowd goes nuts! Va’aiga grabs Quiz, putting him in the same reverse DDT position he put Francis into earlier, and flips him up into the air, in inverted powerbomb position…

 

 

BUT HE GETS KNOCKED OVER BY SHOW! The big man slides into the ring and charges Va’aiga from behind, shoving him and Quiz face-first into the mat! They both lie there for a moment, nursing their respective injuries as Dace stares daggers at Show, charging him, but Show turns slightly, grabbing Dace between the legs and hoisting him up in Fireman’s carry position! Quickly he runs forward, falling to the side and driving Night’s head into the mat with a running Death Valley Driver!

 

“$64,000 QUESTION! DOUBLE JEOPARDY IS ON FIRE HERE, AND THREE OF THEIR OPPONENTS ARE DOWN!”

 

“They still have to take out the biggest and baddest of them all, Bobby!”

 

Indeed, but Va’aiga’s adrenaline rush is beginning to wear off, and it shows as he stands up, looking weakly at both Show, and the stumbling-to-his-feet Quiz. Looking to take out Show, he charges the bigger man, looking for a decapitating Lariat, but once AGAIN Show ducks the arm, wrapping one arm around Va’aiga’s neck! Quickly standing up, Show grapevines Va’aiga’s leg once more, falling forward and slamming the big man into the mat with another STO!

 

“AGAIN Show capitalizes on Va’aiga’s cut-first-measure-later routine with the Lovely Parting Gift!”

 

Show, knowing that this won’t be enough, goes over to Quiz, roughly pulling the game show host to his feet and whispering into his ear. Quiz nods, obviously out of the game, and Show bends over, putting his head between Quiz’s legs from behind, lifting him up into Electric Chair Drop position! A bit off-balance, Show walks over so that he’s standing to the side of Va’aiga…

 

 

AND HE ELECTRIC CHAIR DROPS QUIZ RIGHT ONTO VA’AIGA’S PRONE HEAD!

 

“X FOR THE BLOCK! X FOR THE BLOCK!”

 

The crowd goes absolutely LIVID as Show repositions Quiz so that he lay across Va’aiga’s stomach, going over to referee Soapdish and giving him a hard shake, pointing him to Quiz on top of Va’aiga and telling him to count. Dazed, confused, but seeing a pinning predicament, Soapdish crawls over to the pinning predicament, making the count as Show slides out of the ring…

 

 

“OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONE!”

 

The crowd’s booing rises…

 

“TWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

 

“NO! NOT LIKE THIS! NOT LIKE THIS!”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“THREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!”

 

 

Soapdish calls for the bell, before going off to a nice nap.

 

*DING DING DING*

 

Show slides into the ring, both tag titles in his right hand as he grabs Quiz, pushing him out of the ring as well. On the outside, Show puts his head underneath Quiz’s right shoulder, propping up his fellow Tag champ as he holds up both belts in his right hand! Funyon makes the announcement as Mak comes to, staring up the arena to see Show holding up both titles in one hand and Quiz in the other.

 

“Ladies and gentlemen, your winners, at nineteen minutes, forty-three seconds, and the NEEEEEEEEEEEEW S – W – F TAG TEAM CHAMPIONS OF THE WOOOOOOOOOOORLD, QUIZ and SHOW… DOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOUBLE JEOOOOOOOOOOO – PAR- DEEEEEEEEEE!”

 

The crowd’s booing hits a crescendo, as on Show’s shoulder Quiz seems to come to, looking over at his partner and asking him what just happened. Show grins.

 

“Survey says, here’s your title.”

 

Show hands Quiz one of the tag belts, and grinning like a little kid at Christmas, Quiz takes it, holding it up so that the light glints off of the gold, the crowd booing but neither member of Double Jeopardy caring as they hold up the tag belts – nothing can take them away, at least, not right now!

 

We shift to another shot, of the ring… Dace and CIA, both coming to next to one another… Mak, already up, standing in the ring and tending to Va’aiga… the looks of all four men, even the dazed Va’aiga, say one thing.

 

They may not be tag champs right now.

 

That statement won’t be true for long.

 

Fade into a video package highlighting the heated Mask vs. Mask feud between Sean Atlas and Beezel. What mysteries lie behind the mask? We will find one out… NEXT~!

[Guest Suicide King]

“I don't think anyone who's ever come around with a totally new character has ever really lasted or been able to get back on the horse, but I wish you luck.”

 

– Edwin MacPhisto, February 8 2003

 

 

Six Months Ago

 

Atlas hoists him up onto his shoulders in a fireman's carry, and with a small running start he jumps and falls to the side...

 

”The Saint's Demise! Atlas hits the Saint's demise on Storm!””

 

”That had to have done it! That had to have finished off Storm for good!”

 

ONE ... TWO ... THREEEE!!!!

 

DING-DING-DING!

 

"The winner of this match, SEAN ATLAS!"

 

 

“They don't know me. All they know is who I used to be - the last decade. All the memories I left them with, the work I did, the awards I won... And it all amounts to nothing. Nothing at all.”

 

“But he fell out of view too soon... people forgot and it drove him out of mind... He could have come back and been stronger than ever, allow people to see him for who he is... But no, he donned the mask. He hid his face away behind a piece of leather... I hid it. It wasn't him anymore... By then it was all me...”

 

“Yeah, he'll be back. Mightier than before, more powerful than before... And they don't even know he's coming..."

 

 

Four Months Ago

 

El Scorcho takes his time, but powers his opponent up into the air... then flies back and sits out! The crowd rises to their feet in amazement as Beezel drives Xero's head straight into the canvas with a top rope Falcon Arrow! Mark Stevens stands straight up in shock...

 

"AIR MACPHI.... HOLY CRAP! That... That was THAT! Riley! Tell me that I saw what I think I saw!" screams Stevens.

 

"Great... just when I think they're dead, some nimrod thinks ripping off an old champion will get him recognition..." bemoans Riley.

 

The audience goes nuts as El Scorcho finishes off his move and rolls on top of his opponent for a cover....

 

ONE ... TWO ... THREEEE!!!!

 

DING-DING-DING!

 

"Your winner," exclaims Funyon, " in a time of nine minutes and fourty two seconds... BEEEEEEZEEEEEEEL!!!"

 

 

...

 

 

The man with the mask and robotic voice stands in a phonebooth outside of East Rutherford, pleading with someone to think of a better idea.

 

"I know, I know he did a lot but still," says Beezel, "Yes, yes I know I've used other people's finishers but at least I was familiar with them at some point. What if I freeze? What if I screw up?"

 

 

 

Three Months Ago

 

Sean starts walking across the large room. Then, not too far away appears the form of another masked man, Beezel. Atlas smiles a bit at the sign of another man hiding his identity. Luckily, this guy took the extra step and got himself a voice modulator.

The two both reach the center of the room and acknowledge one another with a mild glance lasting less than a second. “Freak,” Atlas mouths to himself, then realizes Beezel probably thought the same.

 

 

Two Months Ago

 

Groggy and spent, Atlas uses the collapsed body of Beezel for leverage as he forces his way back up. He clumsily stands and once again takes Beezel by the hand. Pulling him up, Atlas drags his body onto his shoulders once more, looking to seize the leg and properly place Beezel across his back.

 

 

Stevens: Once more time, Mr. B! You’ve evaded this twice already, just escape again!!!

 

Riley: He wont.... He can’t....

 

 

ATLAS JUMPS!

 

 

 

.

 

 

 

 

 

 

...

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

...

 

 

 

 

 

 

AND HITS THE SAINT’S DEMISE!

 

 

Riley: AND HE DOESN’T! ATLAS HITS IT RIGHT!

 

Stevens: THE THIRD TIME’S THE CHARM FOR SEAN ATLAS, DRILLING BEEZEL THROUGH THE CANVAS WITH THE SAINT’S DEMISE!

 

Riley: COVER!!

 

 

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

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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

 

 

 

Riley: ATLAS WINS!

 

 

DING-DING-DING!

 

 

Two Weeks Ago

 

 

“Apparently, Beezel cares more about keeping his identity confidential than actually winning a belt.”

 

“At Ground Zero, I shall put my own identity at risk, and remove my mask if am defeated... However, if I am victorious, my mask I shall keep, but yours you must remove!”

 

“Picture it, friend Atlas: Ground Zero, Beezel vs. Sean Atlas, for pride and identity... Mask vs. Mask!”

 

 

Last Week

 

Two sore spots stand out on the solid concrete floor.

 

 

On the left, a red mask with a broken voice modulator...

 

 

On the right, a white leather mask with crimson stains of blood...

 

 

 

Two mysteries, one solution. They have everything to lose.

 

Ground Zero

 

For pride, for identity.

 

Beezel vs. Sean Atlas

 

Mask vs. Mask

 

 

NEXT!

[Guest Suicide King]

Atlas vs. Beezel

 

double no-show.

[Guest Suicide King]

I can't feel the way I did before

Don't turn your back on me

I won't be ignored

Time won't heal this damage anymore

Don't turn your back on me

I won't be ignored

 

"I really don't like King's choice in music, Riley."

 

"Oh, shut up, Stevens."

 

*BA BOOM!*

*BOOM!*

*BABABABABABABOOOOOOOM!*

 

An explosion of thunderous pyrotechnics and the strains of Linkin Park's "Faint" is what welcomes us back to the extravaganza that is SWF Ground Zero! The camera pans around the arena, taking in the sickly green lighting that illuminates the fans, who wave signs such as "Frost Fears Flesher!" complete with a sidekick sign that has an arrow and "Absolutely Annoying Alliteration" written on it. As the camera pans around the arena, we pick up more signs such as "Silent Is Your God!", "Craven Sucks!" and "Go To Hell, Crow!". Finally, we come down to the announce table where 'Fucking Gay' Bobby Riley sits alongside 'Grand Slam' Mark Stevens - the former looking cheerful, the latter looking sour but calm as he greets the fans.

 

"Welcome back to the Smarks Wrestling Federation Pay-Per-View that we call Ground Zero, folks! I'm 'Grand Slam' Mark Stevens here with Bobby Riley, and we've already had some positively vicious match ups."

 

Riley giggles. "Why, just moments ago we got to see the two masked men beat the crap out of each other, and it was most entertaining! And after this, we get to see my beloved Flesher put Frost through some glass!"

 

"But before that, we have a match, Riley. A match steeped in hatred and blood as the Hell Machine takes on the Antichrist Superstar inside the confines of that Cell you can see above the ring."

 

"They've come so very far Stevens, and I've actually heard this match is pinfall only!"

 

"Which is interesting, Riley, as they've made each other tap out or pass out in the past...Janus with the Hell Crush, and Crow with the Sharpshooter. I doubt that'll stop Crow working on Janus' legs though..."

 

"Or Janus from Crow's shoulder and body!" Riley cackles. Mark Stevens just rolls his eyes, and motions the camera off to the side where everyone's favourite ring announcer Funyon sits. Said announcer rises to his feet, lifting his microphone. Behind Funyon, we can see the Cell slowly being lowered around the ring, chain mesh and steel poles combining to form a most unforgiving structure.

 

"Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is schedule for ONE FALL, and is a HELL IN A CELL MATCH! The match can only be won by pinfall, not by submission, and the pinfall MUST occur in the ring. The loser of the match must LEAVE the Smarks Wrestling Federation!"

 

"AN-TI-CHRIST!"

"AN-TI-CHRIST!"

"AN-TI-CHRIST!"

 

The crowd shows their full support for Crow kicking Hell Machine ass at Funyon's words, and their chanting gets a response as the wispy start of Dimmu Borgir's "Burn In Hell" echoes over the sound system. The chanting quiets down as the fans wait eagerly for the person they're rooting for in this match.

 

Welcome to the abandoned land...

Come on in child, take my hand...

Here there's no work or play...

Only one bill to pay...

There's just five words to say...

As you go down *BONG*

Down... *BONG*

Down... *BONG*

 

A pause. Funyon takes the moment to lift his microphone.

 

"Ladies and gentlemen, introducing first from Anchorage Alaska! He is six foot two and weighs two hundred and thirty one pounds...the Antichrist Superstar...CCCCCCRRRRRROOOOOOOOWWWWWW!!"

 

YOU'RE GONNA BURN IN HELL!

OH, BURN IN HELL!

 

A massive eruption of fire across the stage gets the crowd chanting like mad! Amid the flames, with his lighter held in the air, is the Antichristian Phenomenon. He's as casual as ever, despite hiding injuries that would no doubt be exploited later. Taking a drag from his cigarette, Crow saunters down towards the ring as the crowd backs him fully with an "Antichrist" chant. He looks up at the cell that stands before him, before stepping around it, standing at the open door for a moment. Looking at the door, and then the fans, the Antichrist Superstar shrugs and enters the cell. He slowly ascends the stairs, taking his cigarette from his mouth and breathing a cloud of smoke into the air as he enters the ring.

 

"Crow looks as calm and confident as ever, Riley." Stevens murmurs.

 

"Calmness and confidence won't get you anywhere, Marky Mark. He has to have the skill, and we all know he doesn't have what it takes to stand up to the Hell Machine."

 

"We'll see, Riley...we'll see."

 

The arena is suddenly thrust into pitch blackness as a bell tolls in the air, signifying the start of Fear Factory's "Resurrection". Pyrotechnics filter up from the sides of the ramp, a sickly green instead of their usual blue. Upon the Smarktron is displayed the face of a calm young man with white hair. As the voice of Burton C. Bell echoes from the speakers, the image of the young man starts to slowly riddle with cracks.

 

Consumed with memoriiiiies...

That preceded todaaaaay...

Given a chance to bereaaaave...

Life that's slipping AWAAAAAAAAAYYYYYY!!

 

The image on the Smarktron shatters, revealing the red-eyed and evil glare of Janus as a spotlight swings around to focus on the entrance curtain. A moment's pause, and then said curtain is pushed aside to reveal the seven foot tall stature of the Hell Machine as he lifts his arms into the air - a very familiar weapon clutched in his right hand. The crowd begins booing as they recognise the Equalizer, and Funyon lifts his microphone up.

 

"And his opponent! Hailing from Sydney Australia, he is seven foot two and weighs three hundred and fifty pounds...the Hell Machine...JJJJAAAAAAAANUUUUUUUUUSSSSSSSS!!"

 

The seven foot monster ignores the boos of the fans around him as he slowly stalks down the ramp, the light gleaming off the solid steel brace he has over his bad knee. His eyes are locked on one thing only, and that is the figure that stands inside the cell waiting for him. The Hell Machine steps around the steel structure, and pauses only when Sexton Hardcastle points at the Equalizer and shakes his head. Janus just glares steadily at the referee, who backs off after a moment and lets the monster enter the cell. Inside, Crow stubs his cigarette out against the turnbuckle and watches his seven foot opponent climb into the ring and thrust his arms into the air.

 

*BOOM!*

 

The crowd shrieks and the announcers recoil, but despite being so close to the turnbuckle, the Antichrist Superstar doesn't flinch as blue fire explodes from all four ring posts. The arena is bathed in deep blue light for several moments as the red eyes of the Hell Machine meet the dark, almost black eyes of the Antichrist Superstar.

 

“This isn’t a regular Hell In A Cell, Bobby. As you can see, it’s bigger than the norm. For this match, the confines have been extended out to the railing... and we’ve barely got any space out here now!” Stevens provides the info, yo.

 

Sexton Hardcastle enters the cell slowly, shutting the door behind him. He slides into the ring, careful not to get between the two foes, and the lights slowly come back up. Janus and Crow wait with eerie focus as Sexton explains the match rules are pinfall only, and then the referee waves his hands towards the timekeeper, who nods.

 

*DING DING DING*

 

"And the match is underway, Riley! We get to see just what these two men will do to each other..." Stevens comments.

 

"If they...did anything at all, Stevens." Riley sounds perplexed.

 

And the ambiguously gay announcer has a right to be perplexed as neither the Hell Machine nor the Antichrist Superstar have moved yet. Still standing by the turnbuckle, Crow slowly lifts his arms in a crucifix pose. Janus, with equal slowness, slashes his thumb across his throat. The tension is almost unbearable as the fans, the referee, and the announcers watch in silence. And then the seven foot monster lumbers across the ring, swinging the Equalizer in what surely would be a decapitating blow...that Crow evades by dropping flat to the mat and nailing a drop toe hold that drives the Hell Machine's face into the middle turnbuckle! The Gothic Warrior rises to his feet with a grin on his face.

 

And the grin fades as Janus just ignores the fact his face met the turnbuckle and climbs to his feet, leaving the Equalizer on the mat. Grabbing the arm of the Hell Machine, Crow attempts an irish whip that the monster easily reverses, sending his opponent racing across the ring! Rebounding off the ropes, the Antichrist Superstar predicts his opponent's attack and lowers his head to avoid a big boot...

 

...that wasn't aimed at his head, and the seven footer's boot slams home into the Antichristian Phenomenon's right shoulder! With a strangled cry of pain, Crow is knocked to the mat as he clutches at his punished shoulder. Not showing any mercy, Janus drags his opponent up and hooks his head, before dropping the Antichrist Superstar right back down on that shoulder with a single arm DDT! Grimacing in pain, Crow rolls out of the ring, rubbing at his shoulder.

 

"And a short but brutal start to the match, Riley, with Janus already zeroing in on Crow's damaged shoulder. I wonder if he remembers Hardcastle saying it's pinfall only." Stevens ponders.

 

"I don't think he cares either way - he just wants to utterly destroy Crow, and that's what he plans to do!" Riley giggles.

 

Standing tall inside the ring, the Hell Machine's eyes track his opponent, and the monster bounces off the ropes to gain momentum, and falls to the mat for a baseball slide as Crow rounds one of the turnbuckles! Unfortunately for the monster, the Antichrist Superstar saw the move coming a mile away and stepped back, leaving Janus half hanging out of the ring! Crow immediately grabs the giant's bad leg and slams it into the turnbuckle, but the only reaction he gets is the loud clang of steel on steel as the seven footer's knee brace is protecting him. Before the Antichristian Phenomenon can remove said brace, Janus pushes himself out of the ring and stands tall in front of his opponent...who has no qualms about kicking the giant right in the crotch! The crowd winces as the Hell Machine doubles over, and lifts his head to glare at his opponent...

 

...only to eat boot as the Antichrist Superstar nails a beautiful standing dropkick to the giant's jaw, toppling the Hell Machine to the thinly matted floor! With his opponent momentarily stunned, Crow instantly goes to work on trying to unstrap the steel brace from around the giant's knee - only to be stopped by Sexton Hardcastle! The referee stops Crow from removing the protective covering that shields the giant's knee from assault, much to the Antichrist Superstar's chagrin. Not bothering to argue with the referee, Crow lifts up the giant's leg and kicks him square in the back of his bad knee, as the brace only protects the front and sides of his leg! Janus lets out a roar of pain, and the Antichristian Phenomenon continues to kick the giant in the back of his bad knee...until the Hell Machine's good leg comes up to return the kick to the groin!

 

"Ooooo...trading blows here, Riley. Janus gets revenge for that groin shot with one of his own..."

 

"Don't remind me, Stevens." Riley whimpers.

 

This time it's the Antichrist Superstar's turn to double over, and the Hell Machine sits up, lifting an arm and clamping it around his foe's throat! Both superstars slowly rise to their full height, and Janus hoists Crow into the air in preparation for a chokeslam...and the Gothic Warrior blocks it the same way he did in their last match. How exactly do you ask? By kicking Janus right between the eyes! The Antichristian Phenomenon falls to the mat as the seven foot monster stumbles backwards, rubbing his face. Crow leaps up onto the apron and waves his hand to the crowd, who cheer in anticipation at the signal for the Murderous DDT! The gothic warrior leaps off the apron as Janus straightens up, wrapping his arm around the monster's head and swinging around...

 

...only to be blocked as Janus wraps his arms around his opponent's waist, pulls his head from the front face lock, and SLAMS Crow down on his as-always weak back with a vicious high-angle spinebuster! The fans wince at the sheer impact of the move, and the Antichrist Superstar rolls about in pain, grimacing. The seven footer than promptly begins to stomp on his opponent's chest and right shoulder, grinning malevolent at the cries of pain the Antichristian Phenomenon tries to muffle. Tiring of the stomping after a moment, the Hell Machine flings himself up into the air, extending his braced leg for a massive standing leg drop...and Crow rolls out of the way! Shuddering in pain at the impact on his bad knee, the monster is momentarily incapacitated as the Gothic Avian grabs the cell wall to use as a slight aid for getting up. Seeing the monster just sitting there, Crow pivots on one leg.

 

"DAS WUNDER KICK!" Stevens roars!

 

*CRAAAAACK!*

 

The impact of the kick with the side of the Hell Machine's head is audible, and the giant falls to the side with a dazed look in his eyes. Knowing the monster won't be out for long - the no-selling bastard that he is - the Antichrist Superstar leaps up onto the turnbuckles and springs off with a beautiful Asai moonsault, crashing down across his fallen foe's chest!

 

“Wow! Picture perfect moonsault from Crow!” Stevens bellows.

 

Bobby no sells, “Pffffft, it wasn’t -that- good! How come you don’t give Janus that kinda credit!”

 

“...because I don’t see him flipping off ropes.”

 

The wind is knocked out of both competitors, Janus having the harsher end of the deal, and thus Crow manages to get up first with the aid of the steel mesh near him. He stands up and looks at his opponent, it’s not going to be long before the monster rises from the dead. The Antichristian Phenomenon then shifts his eyesight quickly towards a different place... the curtain covering the underneath of the ring. With a growing smile on his face, he steps over Janus and lifts the curtain up, then bends over and starts to scrummage. The crowd cheers this, but their cheers soon turn to boos as the like a possessed man, Janus sits and cocks his head to the left and stares at Crow. In an attempt to not alert Crow of his rising presence, the Hell Machine stands up silently and steps towards his opponent.

 

Bobby Riley laughs, “Ahahaha! Watch this Stevens, Janus is using his smarts to take advantage of Crow’s ignorance!”

 

He throws both his arms forward and grabs a huge clump of his opponent’s hair, but he is unable to follow because Crow was ready for it! Turning around at the speed of light, the Antichrist Superstar smashes a light tube he held in hands across the side of Janus’ body!

 

“What was that you were saying, Bobby! Crow was ready for it, he sucked Janus in and made him pay with that vicious shot with the light tube!”

 

The Hell Machine scowls loudly as he falls away and covers his face from the flying shards of glass! Numerous shards are stuck in the side of his body and now, blood is seeping down his side so profusely, that it’s dripping on to the floor. Crow, being the opportunist he is, quickly follows up by pulling a chair from underneath the ring and lifting it towards the heavens! He jumps into the air and brings it down on Janus’ huge HARD head! The Hell Machine is losing his balance as he stumbles backwards... no, he’s still up! And so, the Gothic Warrior jumps up onto the apron, takes a couple steps back for a run up... and charges! On his way, he throws the chair at the dazed Janus and reflex action causes the seven-footer to catch it and hold it in front of his face! This is just how the bird wanted it go and he jumps off the apron, bunches his legs and extends them in a beautiful dropkick – kicking the chair into the monster’s face!

 

“Crow’s pulling out the big moves here, I don’t think I’ve ever seen him to anything like that before in his entire career.” Grand Slam comments.

 

“Janus!” Bobby squeals, “Get up! Get up and fight! You have my support and my spirit inside of you!”

 

The Machine from Hell is stumbling... and stumbling... and he stumbles in the steel steps attached to the ring post, and falls ass over tits backwards to the floor! The steel steps have been knocked out of their position and Janus is lying dazed with his legs rested on top of them. This is the perfect opportunity for Crow to pull out some more weapons, and he dives under the ring and scrummages... before pulling out a table! A huge eruption of cheers occurs as the Antichristian Phenomenon lifts the unfolded table up and rests it upright against the cell. As he does this, he takes a peek behind and sees that Janus is now standing up and does not look dazed! So he quickly lets go of the table, turns around, and charges towards across the outside...

 

...but gets his head taken off by the steel steps that were thrown in the air by Janus! Crow splats back on the canvas and the steel steps land on top of him in awkward manner. Janus however has no sympathy and simply pulls the bird out of the mess by yanking the unhealthy arm. The steps cause a clang as they hit the thinly padded floor whilst the Machine from Hell rolls Crow into the ring. Grabbing onto the ropes, Janus pulls himself up onto the apron and steps through the ropes. The Gothic Warrior is dazed and is quickly wrenched up to a standing base. The seven-footer grabs the unhealthy arms and tugs on it as he whips Crow into the ropes. Crow comes off and runs straight into a brutal clothesline from Janus! The impact causes the bird to literally fly, by sending him into a spin, flipping in the air and then landing on the canvas. Janus drops down for the pin.

 

ONE!

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

NOOOOOOOOOO!

 

“Crow kicks out! Janus should know after having 5 consecutive matches with this guy that you just –can’t- beat him like that!” Grand Slam comments.

 

Bobby giggles, “Sure you can, just do it repeatedly!”

 

Janus wastes no time in picking the Gothic Warrior back up and whipping him into the ropes one more time. However, he does not throw his arm out for the clothesline; Janus instead lifts his leg and nails a toe kick into the stomach. Crow doubles over and this allows the Hell Machine to wrap his huge arm around his head, applying a tight-as-all-hell front face lock. Grabbing a handful of Crow’s tights, the big man lifts his opponent high into the air with a heave and DRIVES his head into the canvas with a big Implant DDT!

 

“Eternal Twilight!” screams ‘Fucking Gay’ Bobby Riley, “Janus is going to get the pin right here!”

 

Janus rolls him over and applies the lateral press.

 

ONE!

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

NOOOOOOOOOO!

 

“NO HE’S NOT! Crow is still alive and very much in this match. This guy has made a habit of winning when you don’t expect him too.” Grand Slam comments.

 

Janus stands up and bends over his opponent, he thinks for a little bit before thrusting his arm down and wrapping it around Crow’s throat. With an AMAZING show of strength, the seven-foot monster lifts the Antichrist Superstar dead weight off the ground and holds him almost three feet off the ground! Much to the crowd’s chagrin, Janus clutch is insanely hard and scowling, he THROWS the avian into the canvas at full throttle – slamming him with the a huge chokeslam!

 

“GOOD GOD! What a thunderous chokeslam from the Hell Machine! This could actually be it!”

 

Cover!

 

ONE!

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

NOOOOOOOOOO!

 

Frustrated Janus wrenches Crow up by the hair and throws him into the turnbuckle where he unloads a flurry of vicious body shots, and he throws in a lot of closed fist shots for good measure. Latching onto the hurt arm, the big man whips Crow across the ring. He holds back a step... and then charges in afterward, looking to crush Crow in between his huge frame and the turnbuckles. The Antichrist Superstar however, somehow summons his sense, and regains his footing mid-run, and so he jumps up into the air and perches himself on the top rope. Quickly bunching his legs, he then springboards off the ropes and performs a backflip in the air... JJUUUUUUSSSSSTTTTTTTT flying over Janus’ head as he charges in! As a result, the Hell Machine runs face first into the corner and stumbles out. He turns around dazed but is only plowed back into the corner by a charging shoulder that belongs to Crow!

 

“SPEAR FROM THE GOTHIC AVIAN! And make note, he pushed out his healthy shoulder... not his hurt one, as driving it into the chiselled body could cause a lot of harm.” Grand Slam provides the insight.

 

Janus stumbles out again, and this allows the bird to swing around and sit himself up on the top rope. He pulls Janus back in via the hair and applies a front face lock. Twirling his finger in the air he signals for the patented MURDEROUS DDT! The crowd responds with a huge roar and mark out even harder as Crow jumps off the turnbuckles, swings around...and DRIVES JANUS’ HEAD INTO THE CANVAS!

 

“MMMUUUURRRDDDEEERRRRROOOOUUUUUSSSSSSSS DDT! And Janus could be in trouble here!” Shouts Stevens.

 

Bobby riley starts to scream in support but quickly settles as he notices that Crow isn’t going for the pin, “Hah! The bird isn’t going for the pin... what an idiot.”

 

Instead, the Antichrist Superstar drops down to his knees and starts to play with Janus’ knee brace. The referee admonishes him, but what’s he going to do?

 

Disqualify him?

 

I think not, and so Crow continues to fuck with the brace and punch at the back on the knee just to keep Janus under wraps.

 

...

 

HE’S GOT IT OFF! The avian holds the brace up high in the air to cheers from the crowd, and then smirking, brings it straight back down onto the knee – making Janus feel the pain of steel knee brace!

 

*CRACK!*

 

The Hell Machine cries as Crow unleashes the fury by repeatedly smashing the knee brace across his injured knee! He eventually throws the brace away, but Crow isn’t done with the knee just yet... oh no, he’s just started. Pulling Janus over to the ropes, Crow grabs the leg and elevates it by placing the foot on the second rope. Jumping up into the air, the Gothic Warrior extends his arm out...

 

...and drops an elbow on the knee! Torturing it and driving it into the canvas! He elevates it again..., jumps into the air, extending the elbow, and drives it into the canvas another time! Crow repeats this more another time and feeling that he has set it up enough, slides out of the ring and pulls Janus close to the ring post holding the turnbuckles up. Grabbing both of the big man’s legs with an arm each he pulls Janus into position... and then pulls back really hard, RAMMING JANUS’ CROTCH INTO THE RINGPOST!

 

“NOOOOO! HIS CROTCH, DON’T HURT HIS CROTCH!”

 

Stevens looks at Bobby, “Why not?”

 

“Because it’s precious.”

 

“...”

 

But little does Bobby know, this isn’t the worst part. Crow grabs one leg and bends it sideways behind one of his own legs and on top of the Janus’ free leg – forming a four...

 

He then grabs a hold and falls backward, securing Janus’ bent leg in place by placing his own free leg on the ankle! RING POST FIGURE FOUR! RING POST FIGURE FOUR!

 

Grand Slam marks out, “JANUS! OH MY GOD! CROW HAS APPLIED THE DREADED RING POST FIGURE FOUR! I don’t think he’s done that since way back in the Smartmarks Junior Leagues against Aecas.”

 

Bobby Riley simply starts screaming like a woman and states that he cannot bear to watch such a thing. Janus cries out in absolute agony, the pain shooting through his entire leg must be excruciating. The Antichristian Phenomenon grits his teeth and sucks up the pain it’s causing him to keep such a move on. Eventually, Crow thinks that the big man has had enough and lets go of the hold, letting himself fall rather ungracefully to the floor. Taking a quick moment of rest, Crow then gets up and slides back into the ring. Janus has crawled away from the ring post and is nursing his knee, it must be hurting like a bitch. An idea pops into the bird’s mind...

 

...it’s time to fly.

 

And so, the flying masochist ascends the turnbuckle and waits for Janus to rise. The Hell Machine is facing the other way and slowly begins to stand up... he shakes his leg in an attempt to ease the pain, but it’s no use so he turns around to face the bird. Who instantly jumps off the top rope, looking for a plancha!

 

...

 

Does it hit?

 

...

 

Of course not. The ‘Janus Laws of Physics’ kick in and the big man ensnares the birdman in his monster grip. Janus shifts the bird around, so he’s holding him in an inverted belly to belly position. Dropping down to one knee, the Machine from Hell drives Crow’s injured shoulder into his healthy knee! Showing just as much mercy as Crow did prior, Janus stands back up again and then repeats the manoeuvre. Afterward, Janus jumps let Crow drop to the floor and he taunts to the crowd, turning his back on his opponent and performing the figurative cut-throat.

 

“And Crow now slumps to the canvas, nursing his shoulder which Janus has single-handedly destroyed in Match 4 of the series. And now he’s doing the same thing tonight.” Stevens comments.

 

Bobby Riley is quick to add, “And it’s because of this, Crow is going to LOSE!”

 

The Gothic Avian slides out of the ring when Janus is taunting the crowd and falls in front of the table he set up against the cell earlier. He lies there, nursing at his arm and staring into the blank wood of the table. Little to his knowledge, Janus stops taunting and then exits the ring himself and waits patiently for Crow to stand up. Crow slowly stands up, the pain in his body causing him a slight rush of confusion... and he turns around...

 

...

 

ONLY TO BE GGGGOOOOORRRRRRRRRRRRRRRREEEEEEEEEDDDDDDDDDD INTO THE TABLE AND INTO THE CELL!

 

“HOLY SHIT!

HOLY SHIT!

HOLY SHIT!”

 

“Jesus Christ! Janus! Janus just gored Crow through that table! Holy shit is damn right!” Grand Slam cries.

 

Bobby dances in his seat, “OH YEAH! GOOOOO JANUS! KILL HIM! KILL HIM GOOD!”

 

The Hell Machine grins in satisfaction and surveys his handy work before being remembering a special little something he brought to the ring before the show starts. He walks back a bit and then ducks his head under the curtain covering up the underneath of the ring.

 

He pulls out the Equalizer.

 

The English Willow Kookaburra Cricket Bat.

 

Wrapped and wrapped in barbed wire in the meat of the bat.

 

Crow has slumped over onto his stomach now, and his always weakened back is exposed to the wrath of a giant with a huge motherfucking cricket bat. Janus lifts it high and starts beating the bloody shit out of Crow’s back with the equalizer! The crowd groans and moans in sympathy at Crow’s gut-wrenching screams of pain! The blood starts to pour out of his back, flesh is being ripped off, and getting caught on the barbed wire. Eventually Janus throws the weapon down and scoops Crow up onto his shoulder. The Hell Machine wants some new scenary... the two men are going outside the cage.

 

“...Janus has just kicked the fucking door done! The lock did nothing! We’re going outside of the cell, folks!” Exclaims Mark Stevens.

 

Itching to get Crow off his shoulder, Janus simply scoop slams him onto the ramp, and following up, he starts to violently kick and stomp at the bleeding masochist. The two men are in the ramp way, The Hell Machine growls loudly, steps over his fallen opponent, and stares down with a demonic grin. Thrusting his huge hands down and latching around Crow’s throat, Janus lifts him into the air, swirls him in the air, and SLAMS him into the door of the cell! The Gothic Warrior cries out and his body convulses momentarily, and Janus, being the merciless motherfucker that he is, tightens his grip even harder and starts choking his opponent to death!

 

“Janus is looking to kill Crow here, even if the bird somehow manages to pull the win out of his ass tonight, he’s not going to be able to wrestle for at least a couple of months!” Riley giggles.

 

Pulling him backwards and then thrusting him forward, back and forth into the steel pipes of the door, Janus growls like a man possessed by Mikael Akerfeldt and starts shouting.

 

“YOU DARE CALL ME TERRENCE!? YOU THINK YOU KNOW ME!? YOU KNOW FUCKING NOTHING ABOUT ME, MOTHERFUCKER!”

 

With a tremendous scream, Janus rotates again, swirls Crow in the air and this time sends him flying in the crowd!

 

Stevens marks out, “GOOD GOD! THE HELL MACHINE JUST LAUNCHED CROW INTO THE CROWD!”

 

The audience flees from the vicinity as the Antichristian Phenomenon’s body flies through the air and lands in the sea of chairs!

 

“OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOHHHH!”

 

The sympathetic moan of the crowd tells the story, as replays show the disgusting, the sickening, the terrifyingly awkward manner of which Crow landed in the chair sea. Meanwhile, standing back in the ramp way is the Hell Machine, he glares out into the crowd with his deep red eyes and then turns down to look at his hands... blood stains them. Mesmerised by the mixture of his own blood and the blood of his foe, he just stands there... looking. The crowd around him are vocal, not afraid of expressing their hate through the vilest means necessary. Janus hears their obscenities and looks around to see them, but everything is blurred. Everything is a blur; he shifts his head in every direction to see, but there is nothing, nothing there for him! He stares through the people and sees only one man, there’s ONLY ONE MAN he can see... and this man is the rising Antichrist Superstar. Crow is using the chairs that surround him to slowly rise, and get back to a standing base. Janus is angry, and roars like a beast before moving and stepping over the railing and pushing all the fans out of the way until he reaches his opponent.

 

“Bobby... what the hell is going on with Janus over there?” Grand Slam queries.

 

Bobby shrugs, “I... don’t know, but all I can say now, is that Crow’s going to get it!”

 

The Hell Machine clenches his fist and rears his arm back, then throws it forward with power and cracks Crow in the face with a big Knuckle Bomb! The Gothic Warrior is rocked back and falls onto a seat where he sits in a daze whilst Janus turns around and picks up a chair, swings it over and slams it across the side of Crow’s head! Almost a decapitation, and with the bird’s head leading the way to the right, the body follows. He cries out as he hits the ground and clutches at his head with his healthy arm, as the other arm is almost useless now due to the destruction of the shoulder. The seven-foot monster is smiling viciously, and the jeers of crowd are just pushing him on, pushing him to do more sickly and horrible stuff to his opponent. He grabs two chairs in his hands and moves closer towards the Antichrist Superstar. Janus sets them up, so the unfolded chairs are facing each other, creating a mini-table if you will. The monster leans over, picks Crow up by the hair and then applies a front face lock. Throwing Crow’s arm over his neck and grabbing onto the pants, the Machine from Hell lifts Crow into the air, looking for the Darkness Falls!

 

...

 

“DARKNESS FA...NOOO!” screams the play by play man.

 

The Gothic Avian slides out of the vertical suplex and ends up standing behind Janus! The monster has a momentary lapse of concentration, his mind is playing tricks on him and he sees Crow in front of him and tries to grab him! But there’s nothing there, and the bird behind him rears the leg back and thrusts it upward, crushing the big man’s testicles! The seven-footer cries out and doubles over, and this allows the Antichrist Superstar to swiftly move around, apply a front face lock with his healthy arm...

 

AND DRIVE JANUS’ HEAD INTO THE CHAIRS WITH A DDT!

 

“Crow’s back into it, Riley! He’s back, he’s alive!” Mark Stevens exclaims in his excitement.

 

Bobby Riley on the other hand, “NOOOO! COME ON, JANUS! DON’T LET HIM BEAT YOU! Don’t worry, Mark... Janus is just toying with him.”

 

“And it looks like he’s doing with himself... he tried to attack thin air just then!”

 

Was the move worth it? Crow slumps onto the canvas beside the Hell Machine, as the move slammed his back into the top of the chair, and it seemingly took a lot out of him. The crowd gets into a chant, rallying their fallen favourite on, rallying him to get up and FIGHT!

 

“LET’S GO CROW! LET’S GO! *clap clap*

LET’S GO CROW! LET’S GO! *clap clap*

LET’S GO CROW! LET’S GO! *clap clap*”

 

Motivated by the crowd’s adoration, the Antichristian Phenomenon spits some bloody saliva out of his mouth and starts to power himself back to a vertical base.

 

...

 

He’s up, albeit staggering and not moving his hurt arm, but he’s up on his feet. Crow turns his head around and looks at his opponent. He is starting to rise now. Knowing that he is unable to match Janus out here with such a weakness as his shoulder, he looks around for some kind of solace. The Gothic Warrior sees only the cell, the top of the cell... it’s the only escape. Summoning up his strength, sucking up, and ignoring the pain shooting throughout his entire body, he walks over to the cell and gets a grip on the mesh. He places his foot in the holes made in the cell, ironically, for easy climbing, and starts to make his way up the side! Slowly, he makes his way up the cell, quickly moving his healthy arm and gripping up further on the cage.

 

“Who would have thought climbing would be so difficult with one arm, eh Mark?” Bobby Riley giggles.

 

Mark Stevens rolls his eyes, “He’s doing alright for someone with his ailment, but I don’t think that shoulder and arm is his concern at the moment, he’s just trying to get away from the monster.”

 

“Cause he’s a pussy!”

 

“No...” Grand Slam replies, “...because he’s smart. He’s realised he cannot beat Janus on that level and has to do something. And I think he believes climbing the cell is that something. I personally don’t see the logic, but hey.”

 

“Ooo oooh! Janus is back up, and he sees what Crow is doing! The bird is going to be shot down!”

 

Bobby Riley didn’t know it at the time, but his phrase was true. The Hell Machine scowls and picks up around 4 chairs in his hands and moves closer towards the cell. He looks up and watches the Antichristian Phenomenon climb up to the top, he’s –just- out of his long reach, and so he takes a couple steps, drops three of the chairs and holds one in hand. Grabbing the chair with both arms, he pulls it back...

 

...and throws it forward and up – trying to hit Crow with the steel chairs by throwing them! The first shot missed!

 

“What the hell is Janus doing here!?” Riley squeals.

 

“He’s throwing chairs at Crow, he’s trying to exactly what you said, he’s trying to shoot the bird down! I’m no fan of this behemoth, but that’s great thinking.”

 

Janus rears back a chair for the second time, and throws it up!

 

HIT!

 

The chair whacks Crow side on the lower back, and he almost loses his grip, but somehow manages to retain it! Janus roars loudly and starts yelling obscenities at his opponent, before quickly grabbing the next chair and launching it into the air!

 

MISS!

 

Janus misses, and the Antichrist Superstar is near the top...

 

...

 

HE MAKES IT UP ON TO THE TOP OF THE CELL!

 

“Crow’s found his escape, now for the first time in this feud, Crow has the height advantage.” Stevens smirks.

 

“And Janus has lost it, Marky Mark!”

 

Bobby Riley is correct, down on the floor Janus is shouting abusive and threatening words at his opponent, and picking up chairs and smashing them on the ground. Up on top Crow throws his body back onto the mesh and lets out a laugh, taking pleasure in his absolute agony. The Hell Machine soon stops cursing as the arena becomes almost deafening with the cheers from crowd. He cracks his head and spits out some blood before walking around the crowd and stepping over the rail into the ramp way. Entering through the door and into the confines of the Hell In A Cell, Janus limps a little bit as a result of the work done to his leg by the Antichristian Phenomenon. The seven-foot monster stalks around the ring until he finds his prize... the EQUALIZER! But this is not all he wants and so, he takes it one hand and ducks under the ring.

 

...

 

And he pulls out a big motherfucking rag.

 

...

 

And a lighter.

 

...

 

And then he pulls out a jerry can of petrol.

 

“Oh good god.”

 

Bobby jumps around in his seat, “OH GOD YEEESSS!!! THINGS ARE ABOUT TO PICK UP EVEN MORE THAN THEY WERE!11”

 

“The shit is about to hit the fan,” says Stevens, “Literally.”

 

A devilish smirk appears across his face as he wraps the big rag around the equalizer, making sure it’s as tight as possible. The barbwire pokes and rips through the rag. Following up, Janus picks up the petrol can and the lighter up and places them on the apron. He opens the petrol can lid and then pours the petrol all over the rag-covered equalizer and holds it into the air. The response is a mixture of cheers for the sheer brutality that is sure to follow and boos for the fact that Janus will most likely KILL Crow with it. The whole time this is occurring, the Gothic Warrior has been watching...and smiling. He has the Hell Machine right where he wants him, but no one else, save for Dante and Jessica, knows in what way.

 

“I can’t believe Crow is smiling, widely also. That’s just... insane. He’s not right in the head that guy.” Riley comments.

 

“Well, I don’t think either of these guys are right in the head, but what ya gonna do?”

 

Janus exits the cell and stares up at Crow, who slowly stands and beckons for the monster to scale the cage.

 

“Come on up, big guy! I’ll step back, I’ll let you up no sweat... come on... COME ON!!” The Gothic Avian screams at the top of his lungs.

 

The Hell Machine is not one to back down from challenges, and growls as he bites onto the handle of the petrol soaked cricket and begins to slowly scale up the cell to a roar from the crowd. Crow has backed off a lot of steps, and is allowing the big man free entrance to the top of the cell. Janus doesn’t waste any time to climb up and stand up on the top. The two men stare across at each other, there is at least 4 metres between them. Holding the equalizer firmly in his hand, Janus laughs loudly and slices his throat with his thumb, signalling to Crow that the end is near. Once completing his taunt, he reaches into his pocket.

 

But his face changes from a smile and turns into a look of confusion.

 

...

 

He had left the lighter on the apron in the confines of the cell. The seven-footer gets angry as he slaps himself in the face, but his focus of attention is quickly changed by the high-pitched whistle that comes from the mouth of the man opposite him. Crow stands with a smile on his face and in one hand he holds a packet of cigarettes and in the other...

 

...he holds a zippo lighter. Janus’ eyes flicker as the Antichrist Superstar opens his pack of cigarettes and pulls one of them out. Whisking his zippo light back on his leg and then whisking it forward, he produces a flame, one of which he brings to the tip of cigarette. It’s lit. Crow throws the packet of smokes into the crowd and then holds the lighter out forward, holding onto it with only two fingers.

 

“Want it? Come and get it,” Crow says to Janus.

 

The Hell Machine takes a step forward, being very careful taking his first steps on the extremely rickety mesh wire that is not supported by much at all. Crow takes one, long, hard drag on his cigarette and smirks... before exhaling the smoke and dropping the lighter.

 

And through mesh it goes.

 

And onto the canvas it lands.

 

Janus watches the zippo fall in shock, then looks up at Crow with a demon face of anger... but then he looks at the cigarette in his mouth, and smiles. The seven-foot monster growls loudly and makes a charge at Crow with the bat in hand, seemingly forgetting about the rickety mesh and his hurt knee. Lifting the bat in the air, Janus tries to knock Crow’s head right off, but unfortunate for him, the bird flies to the side and drops down, capturing the big man’s legs with his own – performing a drop toe hold! The Hell Machines drops the bat and it teeters dangerous near the edge of the cell, and so, Crow quickly gets up and runs towards, performing a sliding dive to pick it up. He stands and runs over to the fallen Janus, and lifts it towards the heavens...

 

...

 

And brings the barbed wire laced cricket bat down on Janus’ back! Crow lifts it up again, and brings it down one more time! HE DOES IT AGAIN! AND AGAIN! AND AGAIN AND AGAIN AND AGAIN!

 

“The Gothic Warrior is going crazy on Janus’ back with that behemoth of a weapon! Riley, Janus has to do something here!” Grand Slam squeals like a little mark.

 

Bobby nods, “Goddamn right he does! I say he should turn over and maybe, I don’t know, kick Crow of something, just take him out of the attack somehow.”

 

Like Janus heard Bobby Riley’s comments, he manages to turn over in Crow’s flurry of straight drives and grab a hold of the barbed wire wrapped end of the bat. Gritting his teeth together and yelling loudly he rips the bat from his opponent’s grip and knocks a shot of his own, a cut shot to the back of Crow’s leg! The hit causes Crow to lose his stance and fall over. The Machine from Hell quickly gets up, ignoring the shots of power flowing through his body from the numerous, uncountable amount of wounds and picks up the fallen avian. Janus throws the bat across the ring, and then the bird and both land near the centre structure which holds the cell in place.

 

Stevens make note, “Remarkably, the Antichristian Phenomenon still has the cigarette in is mouth and is still smoking it, Bobby.”

 

“Hah,” ‘Fucking Gay’ Bobby Riley starts, “Maybe we should start calling him the Cigarette-Smoking Phenomenon! AHAHAHA!” This causes Grand Slam to just look at Bobbie... in a very weird way.

 

Striding over and wrenching Crow up by the hair, Janus shoves his opponent in between his legs and applies a standing headscissors. The set up... for the deadly Dark Bomb.

 

“He’s not...”

 

“OH YES HE IS MARK! TIME TO DIE, CROW! THIS IS YOUR END!”

 

The Hell Machine grunts as wraps his arms around Crow and gutwrenches him into the air, looking to thrust him down into the mesh and send him flying into the canvas... so far below. Crow’s on the shoulders...

 

...

 

...

 

...

 

BUT HE MANAGES TO WRAP HIS LEGS AND LOCK THEM AROUND JANUS’ HEAD AND SWING HIS BODY DOWN, TAKING JANUS OVER WITH A REVERSAL HUURACANRANA!!!

 

“Crow counters!”

 

The hurracanrana sends Janus flying over and rolling along the mesh, dangerously close to the edge of the cell. Crow shakes his pain off, grabs the petrol soaked rag-covered equalizer next to him and takes the cigarette that he still has in his mouth.

 

Put two and two together.

 

Crow brings the ember of the cigarette against the rag and the thing starts to flame, and in a matter of seconds, we have a flaming cricket bat! Janus can smell it and powers up to a vertical base, only to look over at Crow. The bird is charging across the ring with the flaming equaliser clenched in the hand of his healthy arm. A connection does occur, however it’s not the one the crowd wanted, as the Hell Machine lifts his leg up into the air and catches Crow in the face before he can swipe with the bat. The Gothic Warrior falls backwards and drops the flaming cricket bat on the mesh! With an evil, sadistic smile, Janus bends over and picks up the bat. He eyes the flameage and throws it up into the air, and swings it down and SLAMS Crow in the back with the cricket bat! The bird’s mouth screams in agony as the fire burns his skin. Janus laughs loudly and stomps on Crow’s head as a mock. He lays the still flaming cricket bat on the mesh in front of him and wrenches his opponent back to a standing base. The Machine from Hell scoops Crow up and lays him across the back of his shoulders...

 

“... he’s not going to do that. He is NOT going to do that!” Grand Slam exclaims.

 

Bobby Riley starts clapping and screaming like a school girl, “HE IS, MARKY MARK! JANUS IS GOING TO DVD CROW’S HEAD ONTO THE FLAMING EQUALISER!”

 

The crowd jeers loudly and the women start screaming as to try and save Crow’s beautiful head (cough)...

 

...

 

Janus takes a deep breath before leaning sideways, beginning to fall over for the death valley driver that would murder Crow...

 

...but mid-fall, the Antichrist Superstar tries to swing his legs off the giant's shoulders and reverse it into a facebuster of sorts...

 

...AND INSTEAD BOTH OF THEM TAKE A SICK BUMP AS THE MESH GIVES OUT UPON IMPACT OF BOTH THE BODIES AND THEY FALL...

 

 

ALL

 

 

THE

 

 

WAY

 

 

DOWN

 

 

TO

 

 

THE

 

 

CANVAS!

 

 

“HOLY SHIT!

HOLY SHIT!

HOLY SHIT!”

 

“...” is Mark Steven’s shocked reaction, “Oh. My. God. BOTH MEN have fallen all the way down from the top of the cell... and landed square on the hard SWF style ring canvas.”

 

Bobby Riley is wrenched back in his seat, he’s turned catatonic, he’s pushed his body right back against the chair and his mouth is wide open.

 

Mark Stevens looks at Bobby and then looks back into the ring, “My god. We have to get a replay of that... SWF replay. Please, now.”

 

SWF REPLAY

The Machine from Hell scoops Crow up and lays him across the back of his shoulders...

 

“... he’s not going to do that. He is NOT going to do that!” Grand Slam exclaims.

 

Bobby Riley starts clapping and screaming like a school girl, “HE IS, MARKY MARK! JANUS IS GOING TO DVD CROW’S HEAD ONTO THE FLAMING EQUALISER!”

 

The crowd jeers loudly and the women start screaming as to try and save Crow’s beautiful head (cough)...

 

...

 

Janus takes a deep breath before leaning sideways, beginning to fall over for the death valley driver that would murder Crow...

 

...but mid-fall, the Antichrist Superstar tries to swing his legs off the giant's shoulders and reverse it into a facebuster of sorts...

 

...AND INSTEAD BOTH OF THEM TAKE A SICK BUMP AS THE MESH GIVES OUT UPON IMPACT OF BOTH THE BODIES AND THEY FALL...

 

 

ALL

 

 

THE

 

 

WAY

 

 

DOWN

 

 

TO

 

 

THE

 

 

CANVAS!

SWF REPLAY

 

The replays show from different angles the horrible landing that the Antichrist Superstar experience, and on the same level, the horrible landing of the Hell Machine.

 

The arena is deathly silent. Both men are out on the canvas. The match referee checks moves in to check on the men.

 

“Fans, it’s at this time that I must repeat, this match can only be won by a pinfall, there MUST be a winner.” Mark Stevens reports.

 

The camera cut to a close up on Crow and then to a close up of Janus. Their eyes are shut and they’re both unconscious. The crowd start to rally behind their favourite star, the Antichristian Phenomenon by starting a chant.

 

“AN-TI-CHRIST!

AN-TI-CHRIST!

AN-TI-CHRIST!”

 

And time passes...

 

...

 

CROW MOVES!

 

HE’S ALIVE!

 

...

 

JANUS MOVES!

 

HE’S ALIVE!

 

“THEY’RE ALLLLLIIIIIVVVVVEEEEEEEEEE, MARK! THEY’RE ALIVE!” Screams Bobby Riley.

 

This shocks Grand Slam, “GAH! I thought you were dead! But you’re right, both men are alive and moving in the ring!”

 

THEY TRY TO GET UP! But they’re finding it immensely difficult as their bodies must being immersed in only one thing, and that’s pain! The Antichrist Superstar tries to move his shoulder but he SCREAMS out in agony, as instantly a fierce, indescribable pain shoots out. Janus is standing up, but he collapses into the ropes straight away. He tries to stay upright but it’s so... soooo difficult. Crow is standing up, and he’s retaining his balance!

 

“CROW! CROW! CROW! HE’S UP AND STANDING UP!” screams Mark.

 

The Antichrist Superstar cringes as he bends over to pick up the now dormant Equalizer that fell into the ring with the two men. He grabs a firm hold around the handle with his healthy arm and starts SCREAMING at Janus. The Machine from Hell is now facing the bird on his feet, albeit shaky, very shaky.

 

“TERRENCE! I KNOW YOU’RE IN THERE! I SEE THROUGH THOSE RED EYES! COME OUT! CCOOMMEEE BACK TO US!” screams the Gothic Warrior.

 

The sound of the word Terrence makes Janus erupt with murderous fury and he tries to charge at his opponent... but Crow swipes him with the Equalizer and sends him flying back into the ropes. Janus comes back off and still remains standing...

 

Crow continues screaming, “WE USED TO BE FRIENDS, TERRENCE! WE USED TO BE FRIENDS! WHY THE FUCK DID YOU HAVE TO GO AND RUIN EVERYTHING!?”

 

The Gothic Avian in his rage swipes Janus again with the bat and sends him stumbling back into the ropes. BUT JANUS COMES BACK OFF AND IS NOT GOING TO FALL!

 

“Come back to the light.”

 

Janus tries to lunge forward again, but the blows to his head have severely affected his equilibrium... yet it does not matter much as Crow screams as he swipes the equalizer into the big man’s head another time. The Hell Machine falls to his knees and the emotions that have been sealed within... have been suppressed for so long... start to take over.

 

Terrence is breaking through.

 

*PUNCH! PUNCH! PUNCH!*

 

“Let me out, JANUS! YOU NO LONGER CONTROL ME, LET ME OUT! NNNNOOOOWWWW!!!”

 

Janus screams...

 

“NNNNNOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!”

 

...and tries to stand up, attempting to save himself from destruction.

 

“...for the last time,” Crow says in a deathly tone and then lifts the bat up into the heavens.

 

...

 

AND BRINGS IT DOWN RIGHT ON THE TOP OF JANUS’ HEAD!

 

 

 

...

 

 

 

..

 

 

 

.

 

 

 

It.

 

 

 

Is.

 

 

 

Done.

 

 

 

Janus falls down onto his back and his eyes shut. He is unconscious. The Antichrist Superstar groans, drops the Equalizer and drops to his knees. Slumping his battered and broken body across Janus’ chest, he hooks for the lateral press. The referee drops to the mat and starts the count...

 

 

 

ONE! (ONE!)

 

 

 

The crowd counts along.

 

 

 

TWO! (TWO!)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TTTTHHHHHRRRRRRRRRREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!! (THREE!)

 

*DING! DING! DING!*

 

“THIS MATCH IS OVER!”

 

Funyon stands up from his chair and brings the microphone to his lips, “The winner of this bout, as a result of a pinfall, he is the WINNER of the BEST of FIVE challenge, taking the final match and winning at a score of THREE to TWO... CCCCCRRRRRRRROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW!”

 

The crowd jumps up into the air and starts cheering and clapping like mad for the winning Antichrist Superstar. The medical team rushes down the ramp way and enters the cell, and all quickly go to attend to both men.

 

“Well Bobby... Janus now has to leave the SWF. For good. His time is now over. How do you feel about this?” Asks Grand Slam.

 

Bobby shakes his head, “I don’t know, Mark... I just don’t know. Janus put up one hell of a fight and in the end, I think he deserved to win.”

 

“That’s your opinion of course,” begins Stevens, “But Crow just proved to you and most importantly to Janus that he CAN win without Dante Crane by his side.”

 

“Pfffffft.”

 

“Sigh... anyway, let’s take a small break and get back to the action.”

 

EMTs in the ring help Crow out of the cell whilst Janus is still inside the ring unconscious. Dante Crane and to the crowd’s shock, Jessica walks out to greet Crow. And the first thing Crow says when he meets them...

 

“Got any smokes?”

Edited August 13, 2003 by realitycheck

[Guest Suicide King]

TALE OF THE TAPE

 

"The Superior One" Tom Flesher

 

Height: 5' 10"

Weight: 213 lbs.

Hometown: Buffalo, New York

Finishing Move: Boilermaker, Ego Trip

Career Highlights:

- Former SWF World Heavyweight Champion [87 days]

- Former SWF Tag Team Champion (w/ Frost) [101 days]

- Former SWF ICTV Champion [86 days, holds record for consecutive days with title]

- Former 3-time SWF United States Champion

 

 

 

***

 

 

Frost

 

Height: 6' 7"

Weight: 296 lbs.

Hometown: Reykjavik, Iceland

Finishing Move: Early Winter, Cobra Clutch

Career Highlights:

- Innovator of the "Window Pain" Match

- Former 2-time SWF Tag Team Champion (w/ TNT & Tom Flesher)

- Former SWF Hardcore Champion

- Former SWF ICTV Champion

[Guest Suicide King]

The scene opens on a shot of Tom Flesher warming up in the ring with Frost standing on the apron, tag titles around their waists. The two appear to be chatting before the start of a match many month ago, but their words are drowned out by the voice over of Mark Stevens.

 

“Two men, brought together by fate achieved the heights of dominance.”

 

Cut to Tom Flesher and Danny Williams sitting in an atrium having lunch. Frost hovers angry above them and tips their table over, his muscles bulging and nostrils flaring.

 

“Two men, who were two forceful in personality to stand in the same room.”

 

Cut to Frost and Flesher standing inches away in a locker room, the tension palpable even in the old footage. Frost jams a thumb to his chest and snarls, “the only reason you’re the leader of the Magnificent 7 today is because I suggested you to Chris Wilson. Nothing you ever did meant sh*t to him, know that.” Frost points at Tom who bristles wide-eyed at that claim while the audience roars with approval. “Honestly, he felt I wasn’t ready to take over. Wilson didn’t think I was a leader and he was right. I’ve been charging straight ahead since I’ve come into the SWF for a year now. Winning the titles I was told I should win, joining up with the people I was told to join up with, taking a step back when told to, having to learn my place when told to. No more, I’m the leader now! I’m the leader of my own career and my own destiny. I’m quitting the Magnificent 7 and for all I care you and the rest of your goons can go straight to hell!”

 

Flesher gives Frost a narrowed eyed stare and spits back, ““You pompous son of a bitch, everyone treats you like a muscle bound lug, because that’s all you really all.”

 

“Two men, torn apart by the ego of one and the rage of the other.”

 

Cut to quick footage of Frost being jumped by the Mag 7 in a match with Flesher, followed by the Icelander too late in saving TNT from tapping to the Superior Stretch at Battleground.

 

“One man, who used every advantage to his favor.”

 

Cut to more recently as Sean Atlas stands in a hallway with Ejiro Fasaki holding up a bag of glass. Next is footage of Tom throwing a bottle of steak sauce against a dressing room door. Finally, Flesher is seen tripping over a pair of sawhorses blocking his path.

 

“One man, who decided to create mental advantages of his own.”

 

Cut to Tom smashing Frost in the stomach with a chair on the last Smarkdown to prevent him from giving Judge Mental the Boilermaker. Then the scene finds Flesher mercilessly hammering Frost through a windshield of a Buick in the parking lot with a Boilermaker of his own.

 

“One man with a heart of stone.”

 

Cut to the first ever window pain match as Frost skips off of a ladder in the ring and plummets to the outside to drive T-Bone head first through a pain of glass set up on two sawhorses with a Tombstone piledriver.

 

“One man with a heart of steel.”

 

Cut back to the original footage of the two preparing for a match with the tag titles around their waists. The shot freezes and then cracks in a spider web like fractured glass.

 

“Two men, who tonight will see which one really has a heart of glass.”

 

Pieces of the image break off and fall away until a wide shot of the jam packed, screaming fans of the Omaha Civic Arena are revealed. Bobby Riley can be heard whistling “Heart of Glass” by Blondie and drumming on the table.

 

The scene transitions to the commentator’s table ringside where Stevens is eyeing Riley with wary disdain.

 

“Once I had a love and it was a gas. Soon turned out had a heart of glass.” Bobby sings in falsetto.

 

“Well, at least it’s better than Linkin Park,” Mark quips as he turns to the camera. “We are moments away from what could be the most brutal and violent match in SWF history. A battle that would serve as a fitting capper to this extraordinary pay-per-view.”

 

“And there is still one match to go. A street fight for the World Title no less.” Bobby chimes in.

 

“But right now,” Mark pick up “is time for Frost vs. Tom Flesher in a window pain match. This final conflict has been brewing between the two since Flesher took over the Magnificent 7 from Chris Wilson nearly a year ago. It ends tonight, with the first ever Window Pain match in the SWF!”

 

“There have been a few in the SJL developmental territory,” Riley informs “but King hasn’t been crazy enough to book one here until now. Although, Frost goaded Tom into it. I’ll admit it; I’m scared. A face like my Tommy’s is one in a million and it might wind up getting carved into a million pieces.”

 

Mark holds a hand to his earpiece and speaks. “I’m being told that the ring is finally set up and ready for out next contest.”

 

“You better go piss now!” Riley screams before the camera goes to Funyon in the ring.

 

The bell chimes three times to silence the crowd and Funyon explains the rules of the upcoming contest. “The following match is set for one fall and will be a Window Pain match! The winner is the first man to drive his opponent’s body through one of the glass tables or panes located beneath the ring for use. Breaking a pane over your opponent or going through the glass by your own power does not count. Pinfalls, submissions, count outs and disqualifications are not in effect.” Funyon pauses and the camera flashes to the Smarktron.

 

“SUPERIOTRY COMPLEX” in bright blue letters light up the screen, followed by “MAGNIFICENT SEVEN.” On cue, blue fireworks explode in and around the stage area. The boom dies off to reveal “Kashmir” by Led Zepplin playing on the sound system. “The Superior One” Tom Flesher emerges from the cloud of smoke hovering around the entrance curtain from his intro. The fans roar down the boos, along with a few cups whizzing by Flesher’s hated head.

 

“Now entering the arena,” Funyon booms from the ring “at a weight of 213 pounds and hailing from Buffalo, New York, the leader of the Magnificent 7, THE SUPERIOR ONE TOOOMMM…FLEEEEEEEEEEEEEEESHEEEEEEEEEERRRRRRRRRRR!”

 

Stevens: “My god Bobby, what is Flesher carrying in his hand?”

 

Riley: “Weren’t you paying attention to the video? You were doing the voice over for crying out loud!”

 

Flesher strolls down the ramp with a demonic grin plastered on his face. He holds up a plastic bag, the sides tinged a sickly red from blood, filled with shards of glass. He brandishes it toward the crowd like an Oscar. Tom slides in under the bottom rope and rolls to his feet. He waltzes over to Funyon and, instead of handing out the usual Index Card of Superiority, jerks the microphone out the man’s hand.

 

“All right, you inbred rednecks, get your love for me out of your system.” Flesher pauses and bathes in the thunderous booing with pride. He finds the camera and addresses it while holding the bag of glass out and to the side. “I never got to thank you Frost for this lovely present you sent me a few weeks ago. I’m sure I will get more use out of it than that waffle iron you gave me for Christmas. In fact, I want to show you what a nice guy I am and share this with you.”

 

Flesher slams the microphone into Funyon’s chest with a screech of feedback. Flesher opens the bag and begins scattering the bits of broken glass on the ring canvas! Some fans boo, while others gasp in horror.

 

Stevens: “That is the same bag of glass that Frost used to torment Vanguard with in the SJL leading to the first Window Pain match! It looks like it’s still covered with Vanguard’s blood! This is sick!”

 

Riley: “Hey, Frost was the guy who sent it to Tom in the first place. Flesher needs to prove that Frost’s attempts at mind games haven’t affected him and that he can stand toe to toe with the lardass in his match of choice.”

 

Flesher finishes emptying out the bag, a thin layer of glass now covering the ring entirely. Funyon treads lightly to gain his footing and crunches a patch underneath him. Tom tosses the empty bag to the floor and proceeds to remove his warm up suit. He folds it very carefully and gives the ring attendant strict instructions to place it on the timekeeper's table.

 

POP! POP! POP!

 

Silver pyro explode from the rafters and the fans are drawn away from the evil of Flesher to cheer for the man they pray can take him down. “Snowblind” by Black Sabbath wails through the building. A blue spotlight shines on the stage, mixing eerily with the sick green lighting that has been the trademark of the evening. Snow flutters down from above, giving what is to be the last calm moment of this encounter.

 

“And his opponent,” Funyon announces “from Reykjavik, Iceland at a weight of 296 pounds. He is the VELVET HAMMER AND MASTER OF THE WINDOW PAIN MATCH…FRRRRRRRRRRRROOOOOOOOOOOOOSSSSSSSSSSSTTT!”

 

The Iceman appears from behind the backstage curtain with a sawhorse perched on each shoulder. The fans pop madly and Tom Flesher is briefly shown trying to contain his bubbling anger in the ring.

 

Riley: “Oh, what the hell does he need those for? This isn’t like the first match. It’s been refined since that caveman created it.”

 

Stevens: “Another one of Frost’s gifts to Flesher. Regardless of their practical use, they give a psychological edge. Frost has taken them back for his own purposes here tonight.”

 

Riley: “Now he’s an Indian giver!”

 

Frost trudges to the ring with the two sawhorses weighing him down with a slight slouch to his posture. He is not smoking his trademark cigar, nor does he play to the crowd as he walks to the ring. Frost moves around the outside area to the lower half of the ring and sets his sawhorses down.

 

Stevens: “It looks like Frost has several scabbed over cuts on his face and chest from the Boilermaker through the windshield on Smarkdown. His nose is still swollen and puffy.”

 

Riley: “Or he’s been drinking a few Boilermakers before the match tonight.”

 

Frost makes the mistake of turning his back to the ring while he straightens the sawhorses. He is jarred by Tom Flesher crashing into him with a baseball slide to the back! The crowd jeers and the bell sounds.

 

DING DING DING

 

Stevens: “Flesher wastes no time in taking this match straight to the big man to jumpstart the bell.”

 

Flesher lands on his feet and reaches around Frost to take his wrist. He slings him around with an Irish whip and Frost impacts the edge of the ring on the small of his back! The fans groan and Frost sinks to his knees. Flesher throws his hands up to the throng looking for adulation, but only gets an earful of spite.

 

Stevens: “You can see referee Eddy Long sitting at the time keeper’s table with Funyon just to our right. His only duty is to verify the legally broken pane and pronounce the match over.”

 

Riley: “Long is a smart man who knows when to stay out of the way.”

 

Tom turns back to Frost and boots him a hard one in the ribs. He grips the apron with both hands and proceeds to stomp his foe down with a furious series of kicks. The fans boo louder and Flesher spins around grandly to play to them once more.

 

Riley: (whistling and clapping) “Yeah, go Tom! Stomp him down!”

 

Stevens: “Could you at least pretend to be impartial?”

 

Riley: “Nope. Not even a little.”

 

Flesher turns back to Frost and stomps again. This time Frost grabs the ankle and slings Flesher down by it! The crowd pops as Frost use the leg as a lever to aide his way up. Flesher kicks Frost in the midsection with his free leg to knock him back. Frost trips over one of his sawhorses and stumbles to his rear.

 

Stevens: “Tom Flesher flies to his feet, but so does the Icelandic Iceman!”

 

Tom leaps to the other sawhorse and springboards off, looking for an elbow smash on Frost. However, he misses Frost getting up at the same moment and he plucks Tom out of the air with both arms around his waist. Tom shakes his head ‘no’ while the audience screams for Frost to do something. He obliges by sliding his grip down to the top of the thighs and flicking back hard to drive Flesher’s back into the floor mats!

 

Stevens: “Standing spinebuster by Frost to turn the tide in the early going.”

 

Frost turns to the crowd and flexes his muscles. They go apeshit and several people in the front row hold up their “Frost is Party” signs.

 

Riley: “What a pompous ass. Grandstanding like that. You would never see Flesher doing such a thing…at this particular brief instant in time.”

 

Frost reaches down to pick Flesher up and he cheapshots him with a thumb to the eye!

 

Riley: “Ha! That will teach Frost to play to the peons!”

 

Stevens: “Much like what Tom was doing earlier, it’s all part of the mind games. This match is being fought on so many different levels.”

 

Riley: “Like Vulcan chess.”

 

Tom reaches his feet with a knee lift to the jaw while Frost is dazed from the poke to the eye. Frost turns and trips away to land chest first across the guardrail. Flesher palms the back of Frost’s head like a basketball and lifts it. He goes to bash Frost’s face into the railing, but Frost refuses to budge and counters with a back elbow to Flesher’s mugg. Frost takes the back of his head and smashes it into the steel guardrail. Flesher drops to his knees with his eyes rolling into the back of his head.

 

Stevens: “Neither man gaining a clear advantage, but if this stays a brawl like it probably will one has to give the edge to Frost.”

 

Riley: “As Tom told Frost a few weeks ago, he is the advantage. Flesher always has every match and every opponent scouted. He knows Frost like the back of his hand already. The Superior One has backup plans for his backup plans tonight.”

 

Frost pulls Tom up from behind with a Cobra Clutch. Flesher immediately snaps too as he feels the submission move being applied. He grapevines Frost’s left leg with his own and uses it as a pivot to get behind the big man for a rear waistlock. Frost fires back an elbow to the temple and makes a standing switch. Flesher tries to pry Frost’s hands apart, but can’t manage it before being hurled high overhead with a release German suplex!

 

Stevens: “Flesher better pull out one of those backup plans right now. An inch closer and he would have cold cocked the ring apron.”

 

Frost brings Flesher up with him as he stands with a front waistlock. He swings him around to rest of his right shoulder. Frost takes two giant steps forward to the still standing sawhorse. He shakes his shoulder and moves out of the way to leave Flesher suspended in midair. He flaps his arms, trying to fly away, but gravity takes over and he kisses the sawhorse with a dull thud and groans from the fans! Tom ricochets into the air then crashes down face first to the floor.

 

Stevens: “Snake Eyes to the sawhorse! Frost is returning some of that damage from the Boilermaker through the windshield.”

 

Riley: “Not the face! I begged of you not the face!”

 

Frost grunts, his anger with Flesher boiling through strong. He turns and picks up the other sawhorse. He lays it across his shoulder as best he can, much like how he just had Tom, and secures it with both hands. He hurls his body forward, allowing hard wood and soft flesh to collide!

 

Stevens: “Frost just powerslammed the sawhorse onto Tom! This just isn’t inhuman, it’s innovative.”

 

Riley: “Ha ha. Make your little jokes. This is a Window Pain match not a Sawhorse Pain match. It should be illegal to use them.”

 

Stevens: “Why don’t you go tell Frost that, Bobby?”

 

Riley: “Uh…I’m needed here to keep you in line.”

 

Flesher winces and arches his aching back while putting a hand to it. Frost leaps up, looks to the crowd, then points underneath the ring apron. They all scream and Frost shakes his head affirmatively. He lifts up the skirt and pulls out a glass pane; very thin, six inches long, and with metal legs attached like one might find on a folding table.

 

Stevens: “Frost is pulling out the first pane of glass of the night! As you can see, they’re akin to a glass table, but a lot thinner and easy to break.”

 

Riley: “For more pain and blood! ……What am I saying? Get up Tom! Pain and blood coming!”

 

Frost struggles to unfold the glass and set it up. Flesher uses this opportunity to recoup and is reintroduced by sailing in from off screen with a jumping Yakuza kick over table into the face! Frost slouches against the apron and Tom scrambles to stand on the glass table. He skips off with both hands gripped over his head. He plummets down with a double axehandle to the crown of the skull and Frost falls to his side.

 

Stevens: “That’s a major problem with a match of this nature. It takes so long to set up the table or other object that the opponent has plenty of time to rest.”

 

Riley: “Not like either man needs it. They’re running on pure hate and adrenaline. I guarantee you will see endurance and recovery speed like never before out of these two.”

 

Flesher wrenches Frost up by the sides of his head. He drags him over to the table and smashes his face into it. The fans gasp, but it thankfully does not break.

 

Stevens: “It’s going to take more than that. We made sure the glass was thin, but not that thin.”

 

Frost drops to a pile on the floor, while Flesher walks to the sawhorses with a hand on his back. He takes one and drags it over to the table. He picks it up and climbs on top of the table. He holds the sawhorse out in front of him and gives a smirk to the audience. He then jumps off the elevated glass and sits out for a BUTT splash with the plus of the sawhorse as a battering ram. Frost rolls to his right and Flesher hits nothing but floor mat! He howls and leaps up to dance around, a strong sting at the base of his spine.

 

Stevens: “Frost just got out of the way of that splash and is making his way up. I’m already impressed by the punishment these two are dishing out and taking thus far.”

 

Frost waits for Tom to prance in pain near him and then clobbers him with a right hand. Tom flies back and turns from the shot. He lands across the glass with his hands out to catch himself. Frost clubs three forearms to the back of the neck and follows by gruffly chucking Flesher off the table and into the apron. He leaves his feet to smack the side of the ring and drops to his face. He immediately gets up to his hands and knees and starts crawling away. However, Frost is right there and delivers a driving boot to the lower back!

 

Riley: “C’mon Tommy! I don’t think I can watch this match. Can I be excused to go get a nacho hat?”

 

Frost reaches down and picks Tom up a by rear waistlock. He turns toward the ring and hurls him at the apron with an inverted atomic throw. Flesher takes the edge of the ring on his back and bounces off in a great deal of pain. He flies into propped up pane and smacks his chin on it. A few twitters of laughter rise from the audience as Flesher comically drops.

 

Stevens: “No, especially not now.”

 

Frost repositions the table how he wants it and walks around to drag Flesher up. Tom sways loosely in the Iceman’s grasp. Frost holds up his right arm to the crowd and bellows loudly. They pop huge for the teased spot!

 

Stevens: “It’s going to be over already. Frost is signaling for the choke slam!”

 

Riley: “Signaling and hitting are two different things.”

 

Flesher punts Frost in the knee out of desperation and he juts forward. Tom collars him around the neck and falls back for a DDT! The tip of Frost’s skull grazes the table and set is up on end.

 

Riley: “Told ya’.”

 

The Superior One lies on the ground sucking wind for an instant before struggling up. He tows Frost with him by the wrist and bashes a shotei into his face as he stands! Tom delivers another! And another!

 

Stevens: “Flesher goes after that nose which might have already been broken or fractured from the assault on Smarkdown.”

 

Riley: “He’s going to push his nose up into his brain, or rather the space where Frost’s brain would be if he had one.”

 

Flesher twists the wrist and whips Frost into the glass table. He strikes it back first and slumps stunned from the palm strikes, the table holding him up. Flesher struts to the far guardrail and then takes off at a dead run. Still about four feet from Frost, Tom launches himself into the air for a Stinger splash. However, the woozy Frost finally drops to his knees and Tom goes sailing over him into the table! The impact smashes the windowpane into a million tiny shards! The back leg of the table that was against the ground snaps off the frame while the other leg still holds on to a chunk of jagged glass. The fans wail from the sight and both men lay lifeless in the mess.

 

Stevens: “THAT DOESN’T COUNT! Flesher went through the windowpane under his own power when Frost ducked. I’m looking over at Eddy Long and he is signaling that the match will continue.”

 

Riley: “Can I go get a nacho hat now? Please!”

 

Frost makes it to the apron and pulls himself up by it. Flesher begins to stir and claws a few inches through the shattered glass. Nicks and cuts cover his body, his singlet has tiny slits with rivulets of blood seeping out. Tiny bits of glass almost ground to dust litter his hair. Tom’s hand comes across the gnarled, broken table leg and he clutches it to him. Frost trips over to Flesher and leans down to pick him up. Frost turns him over to grab the man by his longish bangs and…

 

WHAP!

 

Stevens: “Tom Flesher just walloped Frost with that table leg! They’re using everything at their disposal for a weapon.”

 

Riley: “Exactly. This is a Pain of Everything match! ……Except sawhorses. I still don’t like the sawhorses.

 

The fans ‘ooo’ in sympathy as Flesher brings the table leg around again to clobber his foe in the face. Frost falls on top of Flesher and he rallies his strength to shove the near 300-pound man off of him. Tom rolls with the body and mounts Frost with the metal leg still in hand. He brandishes it over his head like a villain with a knife in a movie and proceeds to BEAT Frost in the face mercilessly with it!

 

Stevens: “Good God! We can hear the crunch of cartilage from here!”

 

Riley: “Frost’s face is going to look like ground hamburger! Man, I could so go for a nacho hat right now.”

 

Flesher rolls off of Frost to his back. He puts his arm over his eyes to block out the harsh houselights and breathes heavily in the rare moment of stillness. The crowd buzzes and Frost’s body stirs beside him. Tom tosses the table leg, now splattered with Icelandic blood, to the side and stands. He grinds the soul of his heavy Doc Marten boot into Frost’s face to draw the ire of the masses. He puts all of his weight down on that right foot and steps over Frost.

 

Stevens: “We knew this match was going to be rough, but this is inhuman. Both men could be facing career ending injuries and I don’t think we’re even close to having a winner.”

 

Riley: “What are you talking about? Flesher has this in the bag. Frost is going to have to start wearing a mask after tonight. And since we just lost a masked wrestler earlier that would bring our quota back up.”

 

Flesher surveys the debris and surmises that he needs a new pane of glass. He lifts up the skirt and digs around for a minute before bringing out another translucent table. The roar of the fans only encourages the Mag 7 leader to greater heights of villainy and he slides the table under the ropes into the ring.

 

Stevens: “It looks like Flesher is going to finally move events into the ring, but remember he scattered that bag of glass in there earlier.”

 

Riley: “A little hard to forget when you can’t see the canvas because of it. Then again there’s glass everywhere now, looks like Ike Turner got pissed off at Tina in an antique shop.”

 

Flesher brings Frost up by the sides of his head and shovels him into the ring. Tom scrambles to the apron and to the second rope. He bounces once, hops to the top strand and jumps off while sitting out for a leg drop. He hits Frost flush in the back and rolls off of him to his feet. Flesher points down at the fallen face and looks out to the crowd laughing. He adds a stomp to the nape of the neck for good measure and reaches down to hook a full nelson. He drags Frost up and holds him there, just so the fans can get a good look at his face.

 

Stevens: “Dear lord. I apologize to the viewers at home if they have a weak stomach or are on any sort of heart medication. This match might be too intense for you.”

 

Riley: “Stop being a pussy, Mark. You want to see a blood feud? You want to see two men beating the living hell out of each other? You want the complete destruction of a human soul for your entertainment? You’re looking at it!”

 

What they are looking at is a face that at first glance doesn’t seem human. Both lips are cut and swelling fast. A mouse has formed over the right eye and growing larger. Both eyes are turning deep shades of black and blue. The left side of the forehead seems strangely irregular, like the skull might be dented in on that side. Flesher relishes turning Frost in that full nelson to each quarter of the arena for the people to get a good view. Groans of disgust mix with the occasional shocked screams and gagging of the sick.

 

Stevens: “Frost has boxing experience, but he looks like he just went ten rounds with Mike Tyson.”

 

Riley: “Equipped with a sledgehammer.”

 

Tom finally prepares to suplex Frost, but can’t budge him! Flesher bends down for leverage and pulls up hard, but Frost is planted to the mat!

 

Stevens: “Taking the time to gross out these fans gave Frost plenty of time to recoup. Flesher should have pressed his advantage while he had it!”

 

Tom tries again and Frost shakes his head ‘no’ to pop the audience. Frost flexes his mighty arms to break the full nelson. He keeps the right arm of Flesher close to him and wraps it up near the shoulder. Frost dips his body down and hip tosses Tom over his shoulder to land tailbone first on the folded sheet of glass!

 

BAM!

 

Stevens: “Frost counters with a hip toss and he looks like he’s getting pumped.”

 

Riley: “Frost’s injuries might be external, but Flesher has to have some internal ones. He’s taken a lot of blows to that delicate lower spine area.”

 

Flesher hops to his feet, his back flaming in agony. Frost bends over to put his left hand into Flesher’s chest while putting the right between his legs. Frost leans up and stands straight. He extends his arms and proceeds to bench-press Tom three times, each rep popping the crowd louder.

 

Stevens: “He’s battered, but not out! Frost has Flesher in that gorilla press and lord knows where’s he’s going to slam him.”

 

Frost extends his arms fully one last time. He holds Flesher aloft until his arms begin to quiver from the strain then tips to the left and slams Flesher to the mat! He ricochets from impact, shards of glass bouncing off the mat with him! Tom attempts to absorb the blow and scurry to the outside to pause his opponent’s momentum. However, Frost steps in front of him to block his path and snags Flesher in another gorilla press. He wastes no time in slamming Flesher on this go around and the crowd cheers anew. Frost rips Tom up by the wrist and whips him briskly to the far ropes. Flesher bounces off and Frost runs at him with his arm out.

 

THUMP!

 

Frost catches Flesher flesh on the Adam's apple with a clothesline! The former World Champion leaves his feet and spins in the air head over heels. He twists a full 450 degrees and lands on his face, vibrating the ring and sending chunks of glass flying!

 

Stevens: "HELL FREEZES OVER! He clobbered Flesher with that one! Frost drops to the mat and I think he's locking on the...yes, he's got the Cobra Clutch applied on the mat."

 

Frost has the left arm in a half nelson while the other is barred across Tom's throat. Frost lies as much off his weight as he can on Flesher to pin him down. He gags and flails his free arm trying to get free. Frost forces Tom’s face into the mat and grinds it into the glass!

 

Riley: "That moron! He can't gain a submission victory in this match. Using the grounded Cobra Clutch is very counterproductive."

 

Stevens: "I don't think it matters to him. The way Frost is using it to rub Flesher's face into the glass he laid down, this is nothing but payback from the table leg."

 

Frost yanks Tom's face off the mat. He cries in pain. Miniscule shards of glass are embedded into his skin, sticking out at jaunty angles and causing the blood to flow freely.

 

Riley: "I don't know whether to cheer the carnage or cry? My poor Tommy."

 

Frost returns to milling Flesher's face into the mat. He lifts his face up again and Tom claws his free right arm across the turf. His fingers gnarl around a handful of glass bits. Frost forces his face down, but Tom flings back the handful of glass! It blinds Frost by getting in his eyes and he lets loose of the clutch! He stands, rubbing his eyes and blinking them to regain his sight. Tom pushes himself up slowly and stands. He brushes off the loose glass from his face and proceeds to remove some of the larger shards from where they have impaled him, wincing with each piece taken out.

 

Riley: “Ha! The Superior One uses everything at his disposal to break the Cobra Clutch. This might be Frost’s pet match, but Flesher is more than clever enough to keep up with him.”

 

Stevens: “Frost still blinded, Flesher takes the opportunity to setup the pane he slid into the ring earlier. I think Flesher has played with Frost enough and just wants this match over.”

 

Tom gets the glass table up and walks over to Frost, who seems totally lost. Flesher sneaks in and bitch slaps him! He dances back out as Frost throws some wild punches looking for a mark. Flesher sashays in and delivers a second bitch slaps before sliding away. The fans boo and Frost continues to blink his eyes to regain his sight while throwing out punches to keep Tom at bay.

 

Riley: “Nah, playing with Frost is too much fun. Flesher can’t just beat this twat sac, he has to humiliate him.”

 

Flesher plays to the crowd with a cocky grin and moves into Frost again. He raises his hand for a bitch slap……and Frost grabs it!

 

Stevens: “Well, I say play time might really be over for good now.”

 

Frost jacks Tom in the jaw with a right hand across the body. Flesher goes to fall back, but Frost has him by the wrist. Flesher lands a kick to the knee and tries to catch Frost off guard with a facelock. He tucks his head under the big man’s arm and takes a handful of tights. Flesher wants a brainbuster into the glass, but he doesn’t have the strength to lift the awoken giant. Frost reels back to get Tom off his feet and takes over on the suplex maneuver. He holds Flesher above his head to pop the crowd, then spins in a tight circle. He completes his rotation and bangs him to the canvas!

 

Stevens: “Spinning gordbuster! Frost has his vision back, but I don’t know how well. That right eye looks almost closed from the swelling above it.”

 

Frost drags Flesher up as he stands. He sees the glass sheet prepped behind Tom and wraps a beefy hand around his throat. The fans erupt at the sight of Tom leaving his feet and being lifted into the heavens.

 

Stevens: “Frost readies the choke slam. He’s got Tom u…NO!”

 

Flesher strikes with a sharp shotei to the mouse over the right eye! He lets Tom drop to the ground and tends to his eye. Blood squirts from the wound now the size of a golf ball. Tom leans into the near ropes for some power and springs off with a drop kick to the knee. Frost bends down from the shot and Tom jumps straight into the air with his feet out and collars Frost with a facelock. He throws his wait back and hammers Frost into the mat with a DDT!

 

Riley: “Tom’s done the most damage at this time and he’s able to counter most everything Frost has thrown at him. All he has to do is stay away from the big power moves and get that damn glass shattered!”

 

Flesher brings Frost up by both wrists and twists the man to be belly to back with him. He brings the arms up and crosses them over the throat. Tom looks behind him to gauge the distance of the table and scoots back a few inches.

 

Stevens: “It looks like Tom is going to straightjacket suplex Frost into the table and that should have enough power to break it, if he can get Frost up and over.”

 

Riley: “Frost is one man who certainly does not need a nacho hat.”

 

Flesher rears back and hoists Frost with a grunt of great effort. Frost kicks his feet forward and lands with a whump. He bucks forward and flips Tom over his head! Flesher lands on his feet, but shocked as hell! Frost shifts to have Tom by both wrists and bends him backwards, tucking his head under his left arm. Frost swishes his hips to the left, then comes fully to the right and swings his hated rival over his body in a half circle. He lets go as Tom completes his arc and he crashes into the mat on the upper part of is back.

 

Stevens: “Wild counter to land the Rock ‘n Roll the Dice. Frost goes down to one knee breathing hard.”

 

Riley: “You can’t ‘hit the wall’ in a match like this. You have to push through, because any time wasted will bite you in the ass.”

 

Frost rises and tromps over to Flesher with glass crunching underfoot. Tom lifts his head slightly and Frost snags him by the sides of the head and tows him up while turning him to be face to face. Frost shimmies the pair closer to the table and he forces Flesher’s head down and between his legs. The audience rises to their feet as Frost double underhooks the arms. He looks to the jubilant crowd with fire in his one visible eye, the other blocked out by the swelling lump on his eyebrow.

 

Stevens: “Frost sets up the Early Winter. That window pane is right there!”

 

Riley: “I can see that jackass! Don’t be so excited.”

 

Flesher bashes his head against Frost’s knee and fidgets his arms free them of his grasp! Tom throws his body back with all his might to lob Frost into the air with a backdrop out of the Early Winter!

 

Stevens: “FROST IS GOING TO GO THROUGH THE TABLE!”

 

Miraculously, Frost manages to catch himself in mid-flight and guide his path. He kicks all of his weight forward to sail over the table and land on his feet. The relief of the crow is short lived, however. Flesher comes sailing over the table as he did before with a crippling Yakuza kick! Frost is jackhammered in the chest by the designer boot and totters into the ropes. He sloppily falls through them and drops off the apron to the floor.

 

Stevens: “Whew! I have to say that Frost got lucky there. Although, I do think that having been in a Window Pain match before helps. Frost appears to have a good sense of where the set up glass sheets are most of the time.”

 

Riley: “Nah, he’s just lucky as hell. But the man’s Icelandic, not Irish, it won’t hold out.”

 

Flesher runs to the far ropes and sprints across the ring. Frost struggles up by the apron and hits his feet just in time to receive Flesher off of a baseball slide! Glass specks stir and whoosh in his wake like dried leaves in the wind. Frost is hurled across the outside area and trips over his own feet in falling to the ramp. Tom lands on his back and reaches behind him under the ring. He pulls out a pane of glass the size and shape of a stop sign. He stands and staggers to Frost.

 

Stevens: “Flesher has one of the irregular sized glass objects under the ring. He really can’t win the match with that as the rules state that smashing it over someone does not count. They have to be forcibly driven through it.”

 

Riley: “Those are just ‘party favors’ from the Suicide King.”

 

Frost hits one knee when Flesher is to him. The fans’ hold their breaths as Flesher swings the glass over his head as far back as he can. Frost gets an arm up to block, but it doesn’t prevent Tom from slamming it over his forearm and landing a glancing blow to the mangled face!

 

Riley: “Oh yeah, Frost is party.”

 

Stevens: “That does not count! I repeat that does not count. Flesher broke the glass over Frost and this match continues.”

 

Riley: “But not for much longer as that will certainly count.”

 

Riley is referring to Flesher bringing another glass table out from under the apron and setting it up just to the right of the foot of the ramp and close to the ring. Seeing Frost still dazed, Flesher goes around the corner of the ring and retrieves one of the sawhorses from earlier.

 

Stevens: “I’m not sure what he’s planning here Bobby, but Tom needs to focus on breaking the glass and not fiddling with a sawhorse.”

 

Riley: “I still don’t like them, but if Tommy has something planned to cause pain and suffering, I’ll give him the benefit of the doubt.”

 

Flesher sets the sawhorse down in front of Frost as he attempt to straggle to his feet. Flesher brings him the rest of the way up and turns him around with a hand on his shoulder. Tom links arms and places his head in the middle of the man’s shoulder blades. Flesher twists the arms to reverse positions with Frost and face the sawhorse. He leaps over the wooden construct and jerks forward and down on the arms.

 

WHAP!

 

Stevens: “Damn! Flesher just gave Frost an Unprettier on the sawhorse.”

 

Riley: “A redundant move, how much more ‘unpretty’ can Frost get?”

 

Frost kicks his feet and howls in pain as he covers his head on the ground, almost tucked into the fetal position. Flesher brings Frost up by the wrists and crosses the arms over his throat as he stands. Tom snaps back on the straightjacket suplex!

 

BAP!

 

Stevens: “The base of Frost’s skull just kissed the top of the sawhorse on that straightjacket suplex.”

 

Riley: “Second time’s the charm. That’s just how charming Flesher is, he didn’t need a third try.”

 

Frost’s body flips over the sawhorse on the ricochet and comes to rest on his face. Flesher leaps up to the sawhorse and holds both arms out to the crowd in triumph. They boo his head off. Flesher simply smiles at them, his body ravaged and bleeding from every pour, a small cut trickling blood from under his hairline and pockmarks of red littering his features. He motions for Frost to stand.

 

Stevens: “Tom is going to use the sawhorse as a platform to hit the Ego Trip through the glass.”

 

Riley: “Excellent strategy. I love sawhorses!”

 

Frost staggers up. He trips backwards and bumps into the sawhorse before Flesher can bury his knee into the back of the neck for the calf branding! Tom loses his footing and slips to land across Frost’s right shoulder. Running on pure instinct, Frost sense the man draped across him and reaches up to secure him with both hands. Frost whips forward and slams Tom into the turf with a powerslam!

 

Stevens: “And the crowd goes wild! Waiting to set up the Ego Trip bit him in the ass. He should have gone for a more easily controlled power move.”

 

Riley: “Wasn’t I talking about biting in the ass earlier?”

 

Stevens: “I would certainly hope not.”

 

Both men lay spent on the ground with the fans cheering for them to stand. Frost rises while dragging Flesher with him by the arm. He hooks a half nelson and takes two wide steps nearer the sawhorse. He leaps over it and tows Flesher along for the ride! He strikes the sawhorse gut first and flips over it to his back with all the wind knocked out of him.

 

Stevens: “Frost with the half nelson bulldog! He’s already on his feet and looking for more.”

 

Frost rips Flesher up by what he can grab of his short hair. He picks him up with a hand on his shoulder and the other between his legs. Frost holds the man horizontally and turns to have his back to the sawhorse. He lifts Flesher three times to show how little he weighs to him and the fans pop! Frost throws himself back and chucks Tom over his head! He makes a full twist in midair from the force of the throw and crashes down to the other side of the sawhorse!

 

Stevens: “BARREL ROLL SLAM!”

 

Frost takes a quick rest before fighting his way to his feet. Flesher pushes himself up to all fours and attempts to stand as well, but promptly falls flat on his face. Frost’s right eye is completely obscured by the mouse now the size of a tennis ball over it. His vision is severely limited and he stumbles around with a hand to the welt like it is causing his equilibrium to be thrown off. Frost surveys the area and finds a jagged shard of glass about four inches long with a sharp point. He takes it gingerly in his hand and shakes his head to remove the cobwebs in his brain. Frost turns his body away from the crowd, but the camera zooms in to catch the action. Disgusted gagging can be heard by those with a view of what Frost is doing.

 

Stevens: “HOLY FUCK! Frost is cutting that mouse above his eye with that shard of glass.”

 

Riley: “That is the most disgusting and disturbing thing I have ever seen. Can I still get a nacho hat?”

 

Blood squirts from the now cut welt and streams like a river down Frost’s face and torso. He winces and pounds the edge of the ring with his fist, but does not scream.

 

Stevens: “Your attempt at levity is not lost on me Bobby, but this just shows how far Frost is willing to go to win this thing and how resilient he is. We mention the man’s amateur boxing background all the time, but I’d never thought it would play into him acting as his own cut man.”

 

Frost turns more fully to the fans and lifts a clench fist in the air. This move calms them down and they cheer for the Iceman. However, twitters of warning can be heard and Frost spins around. Flesher comes flying over the sawhorse with a Yakuza kick! Frost faints back to avoid the foot and grabs it! Flesher hops up and down three times and launches himself with an enzuiguiri in hopes of saving the situation. Frost expertly ducks that and grabs Tom’s other leg as it swings around! Frost sits straight down and busts Flesher’s face into the sawhorse between them!

 

Stevens: “Flesher went to the well one too many times on that leaping Yakuza kick. Frost hits the Snowblind on the sawhorse.”

 

Flesher crawls under the sawhorse and claws his way from Frost. He stands and lifts his fist to the crowd to pop them again. He steps on top of the sawhorse and assumes a precarious perch.

 

Riley: “A move like this cost Flesher big time, let’s hope the same thing happens here again.”

 

Stevens: “In a match like this you don’t want to do anything that depends on the actions of the other man.”

 

Frost readies himself on high with his arm out. Flesher slowly moves away from Frost and closer to the setup glass table! He gets to his knees and trips to his feet, practically a walking corpse. The decibels rise as the fans wait with anticipation. Tom woozily twists around to face Frost and he soars into the night! Flesher’s eyes go wide and he drops! Frost sails over his head and straight into the glass table!

 

CRASH!

 

Stevens: “Frost missed the flying clothesline off the sawhorse! He went right through the table of his own accord like Flesher did earlier. That does not count and this bloody battle must continue.”

 

Riley: “Someone up there must like me and Tommy…or down there, doesn’t matter which.”

 

Frost lies moaning in the remains of the obliterated table. Flesher lies in a heap on the floor mats, not even totally aware of what just happened. He drags himself to the ring and reaches under the apron to retrieve another pane. He pulls out the fourth glass table of the night, one still in the ring and two shattered on the outside. He tips the table over and extends the legs while still lying on the floor. He sets it up right while propping himself up by the elbow and looks over at Frost. He wallows in the glass bits, thankfully showing signs of life. Tom goes to push himself to his feet and his hand brushes something lying near him.

 

Stevens: “Flesher has the plastic bag that the glass was in that he brought to the ring. I wonder what he’s going to do with that.”

 

Riley: “I can only imagine with twitters of giddy.”

 

Tom scoots over to Frost on his knees and drapes over his back. Frost feels the weight on him and rises up to knock Tom off. Flesher slips the plastic bag over Frost’s head! He tightens his arms around the throat in a chokehold to keep the bag secured!

 

Stevens: “Flesher is trying to suffocate Frost!”

 

Riley: “Don’t do that! Do you know how hard it is going to be to get a dead body up and through one of those glass tables.”

 

The crowd wails in fright! Frost scurries out of the table debris with his body flailing. Flesher locks his legs around the middle and tightens his arms around the neck. He rides Frost’s back as he crawls down the length of the ringside area. The bag steams up from his hot breath, the portion over his mouth moving in and out from his gasping breaths. Frost’s motions grow slower as he moves along. His hands come across the other table leg from earlier, the one with a hunk of jagged glass still attached. Flesher barks at Frost to drop and digs his knees into the back while squeezing ever hard on his chokehold.

 

Stevens: “I’m looking over at Eddy Long and he says there is nothing he can do. I say we need security and paramedics down here to stop this match.”

 

Riley: “If you want to call it a match. I think ‘unholy war from the belly off hell’ would be a closer fit.”

 

Frost struggles up with the table leg in his hands. He twirls from the weight on his back as he stands and stumbles rearward. Flesher’s back meets the lower right hand post. Frost feels it back there and takes a couple steps out before ramming back hard into the post.

 

THUNK!

 

Frost trips out and rams Flesher’s body back again!

 

THUNK!

 

Flesher’s face is a mask of agony from the blows to his back and the audience cheers. Frost stumbles forward and runs backwards as fast as he can!

 

CLANK! CRUNCH!

 

Tom’s spine makes a sick noise as he strikes the post hard. Finally his arms go limp and Frost is able to bust out of the chokehold. Flesher slides down the post to slouch on his feet, barely standing. Frost swings around widely with that table leg. The chunk of glass slices through the air with a high piercing sound. It skims across Flesher’s stomach and slits his singlet with a wide rip! Flesher’s white belly is seen for but a moment until the rip is filled with red, oozing thick blood!

 

Riley: “Frost just cut Tom open with that glass fragment! Ok, now we need to stop this! He could have guts spilling out and pierced internal organs. For Christ’s sake, this is a fucking family company!”

 

Stevens: “This is one of the most brutal matches I have ever seen. It all stems from the hate these two have for each other, making them push their bodies to inhuman lengths.

 

The fans screech at the blood pouring out of Flesher! He holds a hand to his midsection and removes it dumbfounded, staring at the blood. Frost has gone down to both knees, seeking precious recovery time. He uses the table leg to push himself up and tosses it aside. He advances on Flesher and Tom snap too to trip away. He can’t gain much speed with that gash in his side and Frost catches him from behind, trapping him in the Cobra Clutch. Tom struggles against the sinewy arms to no avail.

 

Stevens: “Frost and Flesher are fighting near our table and we can see how battered both competitors are.”

 

Riley: “I hope both have vacation time coming and great medical insurance.”

 

The fans pop for the Velvet Hammer wringing the life out of the Superior One. Flesher’s feet dangle over the floor mats, kicking to touch down. Frost makes a quarter turn in his harsh jerking of Flesher’s body. He leans forward for leverage then zips back to hurl Flesher over his head as he releases the Cobra Clutch!

 

Stevens: “LOOK OUT!”

 

SMASH!

 

Eddie Long and Funyon scatter, as Tom is suplexed through the timekeeper’s table! Flesher lies in a heap among the cracked in half tiny plywood table. One limp arm rests on the ring bell, while the other brushes his warm up suit. Frost flexes both arms and roars like the Incredible Hulk! The crowd is going apeshit and chants “Frost! Frost! Frost!” Frost is covered with blood nearly head to toe, a loose flap of skin starting to swell anew over his right eye. It matters little to him as he wades into the rubble to extract Flesher. Frost jerks him up by the sides of his head. With two choices for a weapon, Tom can be seen holding in his hands……his warm-up suit?

 

Stevens: “Frost chucks Tom back into the ring and follows. I think he’s going to use the table already set up there instead of wasting precious seconds to get another pane prepped.”

 

Flesher is curled into a ball amidst the glass littering the ring. Frost glides to his feet and holds his hand out, fingers curled ever so slightly. He screeches a mighty howl and the fans know what is coming!

 

Stevens: “Frost is signaling for the choke slam!”

 

Riley: “He couldn’t it hit it twice before, and I don’t think Frost has the charisma to make even this third time his charm.”

 

Frost hauls Flesher up by his bangs and steadies him with his left hand on his back. He vice-grips the right over the throat and elevates his foe off the mat. Flesher lets his warm-up suit drop as he rises.

 

Stevens: “Flesher has something in his hands! He took it out of the warm-up suit. It looks…like…some sort of bottle?”

 

Riley: “HAHA! It’s a steak sauce bottle.”

 

Tom deftly removes the cap and tosses a thick spray of the brown, sticky liquid into Frost’s eyes! The Icelander drops his man and curses Tom as he wipes his eyes. Flesher flips the bottle up to have it by the neck and cold cocks Frost in the crown of the skull with it! Sauce pours out of the open top as Flesher beats Frost to the turf with that hard glass container!

 

Stevens: “A bottle of steak sauce was the third gift Frost sent Flesher along with the sawhorses and bag of glass, although he broke the one sent to him. The A-1 symbolizing T-Bone, the former JL grappler who was Frost’s opponent in the first ever Window Pane match.”

 

Riley: “Flesher had that bottle in his suit the whole time, just waiting for the right moment. The match plan here has been genius. Flesher might not be a hardcore king, but he knows how to stack the deck with the right weapons for physical AND mental pain.”

 

Tom seethes at the jeering crowd like a rabies infested dog, his trademark cool and calm long gone. Flesher is pissed! He lobs the bottle into the crowd, sauce streaming after it. He gives Frost two swift kicks into the ribs to get him up. Frost struggles to keep conscious and finds the near ropes to climb up by. Mockingly, Flesher holds up his right arm to signal for a choke slam. He waits for Frost to turn around, lunges to grab him by the throat…then punts him the nads!

 

Riley: “BWAHAHAHA!”

 

Stevens: “What you said is true, Bobby. Flesher is dismantling Frost everyway he can. Yet he can’t let his evil bravado hold him up from going for the win.”

 

Flesher struts uber-cocky for the jeering throng. The gash across his stomach coagulating into a thick scab, Tom still has to fight down a grimace of pain from his face. Frost battles to stand with his legs crossed from the kick. He stumbles into Flesher who greets him with a palm strike that could drive a man’s nose into his brain. Frost spins from the shot and falls into the ropes. Flesher wraps his arms around Frost’s middle as he comes off and uses the momentum to get him off his feet. He falls back with a gutwrench suplex, angling for a high point of impact. Frost smacks the nape of his neck and goes ramrod straight! He flops on his face unmoving!

 

Stevens: “The Ego Buster! Flesher is bypassing the table and sliding to the floor to retrieve a sawhorse.”

 

Riley: “Tommy, Tommy, Tommy; please end this now! Don’t let Frost have anymore opportunities to screw you.”

 

Flesher sits the sawhorse down just to the left of center of the ring. He reaches down to hooks Frost with a full nelson and hauls him to his feet. The pair waddles closer to the sawhorse and Flesher reaches his right leg around in front of Frost’s. He kicks it back and thrusts his weight forward. Frost’s mauled face bashes the sawhorse with crunches and cracks that echo through the building!

 

Stevens: “THE PLATINUM NIGHTMARE! Flesher just gave Frost the old finisher of Chris Wilson, the original leader of the Magnificent 7!”

 

Riley: “We saw Frost bad mouthing Flesher in the pre-match video. He was saying how Wilson didn’t give a shit for Tom! How Tom only got the role in the Mag 7 because Frost recommended him. Well, that’s some bad mojo coming back on Frost now!”

 

Flesher, with single-minded drive, slips away from Frost and slides under the bottom rope. He jerks the glass pane in the ring down by the legs and to the outside. He repositions the table already out there and places the second on top of it to the horror of the fans!

 

Stevens: “I think Flesher has a plan here. He definitely has something in mind!”

 

Riley: “Something to finally write Frost off once and for all. This has been a long time coming and it shall be sweet.”

 

Flesher tows Frost up by the wrist and tries to whip him to the corner, but he falls down dead. Tom kicks Frost twice in the ribs and grabs both wrists to drag him into the lower left corner. He gets down low and uses his shoulder to pry Frost up so he can get a waistlock. Flesher grunts with strain as he gets the big man on his lame feet.

 

Stevens: “Frost is totally unconscious, but that’s making it harder on Flesher.”

 

Riley: “Stupid fat ass! It’s hard even for a man like the Superior One to pick up and move 300 pounds of dead weight. Of course, he was use to carrying all that dead weight when they were tag team champions.”

 

Tom slings Frost hard into the corner face first. He prop him up there and goes through the ropes to the outside apron. Flesher scales the ropes and reaches the top. He drags the lifeless body of Frost up the ropes as best he can; a laborious effort as he climbs each cord.

 

Riley: “Oooo…I sense déjà vu from Smarkdown coming on.”

 

Stevens: “I concur. Flesher is going for a Boilermaker to the outside through two tables. That is just beyond sick, but would making a fitting exclamation point to this ring war.”

 

Tom grabs a handful of tights and a facelock. The crowd noise is deafening! The perturbed Superior One yells at them to shut up, but he’s the one who gets shut up. Frost throws an arm around the back of Flesher’s head and takes a grip on his singlet. Frost reels back and throws Flesher halfway across the ring! Both men shoot a good three feet back into the air, glass shards flying up in their wake! The fans pop mad and it’s nearly impossible to hear the commentary!

 

Stevens: “SUPERPLEX! Frost was sandbagging Flesher the whole time in order to earn a breather and then struck like a cobra with the superplex!”

 

Riley: “Fuck! That…son of a…fuck!”

 

Stevens: “I’m glad we’re on pay-per-view, but remember that his is a family organization.”

 

Riley: “Fuck you too Mark.”

 

Frost spins to his feet and pumps his fist into the air. The chants of “FROST! FROST! FROST!” blend into a muffled roar. Frost stalks over to Flesher with new fire and leans down to drag him up by a wristlock. A dazed Flesher attempts a shotei, but Frost ducks under it and steps into him. Frost balls a concrete left hand and lifts the left arm out with his right. A short, but powerful punch rocks the ribs and Flesher is paralyzed to the spot, feeling as if his chest might collapse!

 

Stevens: “TOUCH OF FROST! And that leads to one thing!”

 

Frost deftly pulls the right arm behind Tom’s back and forces him to bend over. He places his head into a standing head scissors and double underhooks the arms. Frost twirls in a tight circle as he flips Flesher to lie against his chest. Frost runs across the mat and pulls up short as he nears the sawhorse. He leaps and sits out! Flesher’s head impacts the sawhorse dead on!

 

SNAP!

 

Stevens: “HE BROKE THE SAWHORSE! Frost gave Flesher a running Early Winter and it broke the sawhorse in half!”

 

Riley: “Jesus Christ! Damn it, Long, do something!”

 

The camera flashes to catch Riley berating the referee, who is standing next to Funyon along the guardrail to the right of the commentator’s the table. The pair has been there since the timekeeper’s post was decimated, but now Long springs into action and runs to the far side of the ring to more closely watch the action. Frost rises like a leviathan, his face wouldn’t even be recognizable to his mother at this point. He pulls Flesher out of the splintered wood with his arms around the chest. The gash on the stomach appears to be bleeding again and the back of Tom’s head is split open like a coconut. Black, thick blood oozes out and mattes his short hair to his skull. Frost throws Flesher haphazardly into the lower left corner. He points to the top turnbuckle, then points the outside!

 

Stevens: “Frost is going to try what Flesher did! Is he going to use another superplex? The Snowplow? Maybe the Boilermaker himself? Or even…”

 

Riley: “Don’t say it, if you have any sense of decency you won’t say that name around me.”

 

Frost rams a shoulder block into Flesher to keep him softened up, but he’s not going anywhere. Frost turns him and sets him on the top rope. He steps over the ropes to the apron and climbs. He puts one foot on the top cord while the other stays on the second. He shoots a defiant fist in the air and the crowd starts up a new chant. A chant of four simple letters.

 

Riley: “SHUT UP! SHUT UP! THIS ISN’T HAPPENING! It’s a dream, it’sadreamit’sadreamit’sadream”

 

Frost seizes Tom by the throat with both hands. He locks in an iron grip that cannot be broken. He ascends to the top strand and lifts Flesher straight up! He fights for balance, but finally gains it. Flesher’s eyes flutter open, his face turning beat red from the struggle for oxygen. His mind is mush, his body dead. Tom musters every ounce of spirit and strength he has left for one final act. He spits a thick loogie in Frost’s face! Frost smiles through the saliva and his split, swollen lips.

 

The camera is not close enough to pick up the whispered words of Flesher but he forces out in a wheeze devoid of air, “Rot…in…hell.”

 

Frost responds softly, “I’ll see you there.”

 

Frost bends his knees for a spring and leaps off the top rope! He twists 180 degrees, Tom glued in his grip. Frost thrusts the body of his foe down and sits out.

 

Stevens: “TOM FLESHER IS A DOUCHE BAG!”

 

They seem to hang in the air, the world frozen in silence and time for the briefest of instants. Like in a movie, flashbulbs pop in slow-mo and the voice of the crowd is deep and sluggish, still repeating “T…F…D…B.” The pair descends, locked together, forever locked together. After a million years, after a blink of an eye, Flesher hits the first table…

 

SKRISH!

 

They continue to plummet, glass flying up to meet them, ripping their skin, gouging their flesh. Flesher hits the second table…

 

SKRASH!

 

The legs fly out from under the table and sail into space. Glass slivers bite into the open wound in the back of Flesher’s head and mesh into a second scalp. Flesher hits the outside floor…

 

KA-BLAM!

 

DING DING DING

 

Stevens: “IT’S OVER! FROST WON! FROST WON!”

 

Riley: “NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

 

Eddy Long wades into the mess of flesh and body fluids to find Frost’s arm. It’s ribboned in blood and coated with glass, yet strong with life. Long lifts the arm into the air and Funyon announces from the commentator’s table, “Here is your winner…THE VELVET HAMMER… FRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOSSSSSSSSSSSSSST!”

 

The arena erupts! The howling noise is like being in the middle of a bomb going off. Paramedics rush down the ramp carrying doctor’s bags and gurneys. They trudge into the glass and separate the two men, they seem almost reluctant to part. The workers shout at each other medical jargon as they examine the two men. Vessels severed, kidneys punctured, glass chunks embedded in vital organs; in layman’s terms a fucking mess.

 

Stevens: “That was an incredible display of guts and fortitude by these two athletes. It might not have been much of a pure wrestling match, but it was a tooth and nail war of epic proportions, just as it should have been.”

 

Riley: “You think this is over? You think Frost gets to strut around proud now that he has one measly win over Tom Flesher? Flesher schooled his ass the whole match and Frost just got lucky at the end. You just wait and see who walks out of the hospital tomorrow morning with their head up and a smile on their lips. This means nothing, the real fans know who the ‘superior one’ is.”

 

The crowd is still on their feet screaming and chanting Frost’s name. Both men are lifted onto stretchers and hauled up the ramp. Flesher first and Frost behind, both wearing neck braces. Ring attendants run out from the back and filter in from the sides of the ramp to clean up the disarray in and around the ring.

 

Stevens: “Incredible as it may seem, we still have one match to go on this historic night. A streetfight for the World Title between newly crowned champion the Boston Strangler and the man he took the title off of, Thoth.”

 

Riley: “Oh, the right man is going to win there. I guarantee it. Although, in a way, I hope Frost wins contendership for the belt and beats Thoth, just so Flesher can have the last laugh when he stands over Frost’s battered body with the title belt in hand once more.”

 

Stevens: “Fans, we’re going to break away to the back while the ring gets set for our main event and let you come down from our last match. Rest assured that you can find out more on Flesher and Frost’s medical conditions through the SWF website all through the night as the information becomes known to us.”

[Guest Suicide King]

“Bobby Riley, that one of the greatest matches I have ever been privileged to see! Rarely do you get to see two performers the level of Tom Flesher and Frost go at it with that sort of intensity!”

 

“That’s true Slammer, but we should have seen it coming! Those two hate each other!!”

 

“I think I speak for both myself and my partner here when I extend congratulations to the winner of the match…”

 

The arena goes suudenly, ominously dark. Riley let’s go with a “What the…” as he looks at the schedule sheet for the night. As the voice of Ozzy Ozborne screams out, "ALL ABOARD!! AH HAH HAH HAH!!" Grand Slam, uncharacteristically, drops the F-bomb on the viewers at home. The stage suddenly explodes as a wall of crimson pyro shoots skyward, deafening and blinding those closest. When the pyro finishes the wailing guitar chords of Ozzy Ozborne's "Crazy Train" pick up in volume and the Suicide King is revealed wearing an expensive looking pair of slack and matching suit jacket over a polo shirt. He poses cockily as the crowds pours their derision on him (save for the few sparse cheers from desperate women). Smirking in disdain he makes his way down to the ring, strutting like he is the single greatest thing since sliced bread. Making his way to ringside, he jumps up to stand on the ring apron and moves provocatively between the ropes. Once inside the ring the Suicide King circles the ropes, making sure that everyone in attendance gets a good, long look at the most talented, entertaining, and handsome man in wrestling today. The men swear, the women squeal, and the SWF collects another fortune in merchandising... the Suicide King casually brushes the hair out of his eyes and motions for the ringside attendant to hand him a microphone. He looks around at the hostile crowd for a minute or two, soaking in all of their hatred, all of their disgust and all of their bile, using it to fuel him. A small smile creeps onto his youthful face as he raises the mike.

 

‘Good evening everyone! I hope you are enjoying the SWF Ground Zero Pay-Per-View event!!” Despite their hatred, the ever-loyal SWF fans let out a massive cheer for the show thus far and the men and women who have made it possible. “Now I know there is one more match tonight, and it is a match many of you, including myself have been looking forward to for weeks, there is some unfortunate business we have to discuss tonight.”

 

“I don’t like the sound of this Bobby. Not at all,” Grand Slam chimes in.

 

“For once Mark, I agree with you. Whatever King has on his mind is certainly detrimental to someone’s health or career. Hopefully not mine…”

 

King begins speaking again. “Over the past few weeks, it has come to my attention that there are those in the SWF who are less than enamored with my, shall we say, management style. Most of these people I have been able to deal with, and most of them are still gainfully employed. But there has been one employee who has been a thorn in my side.”

 

“I think he might be talking about you Mark.”

 

“Wow Bobby, did you figure that all out by yourself or were you prompted by the stage director?”

 

“That employee,” King continues, “has gone on national… no, international television… and slandered my name, questioned my authority and openly defied me. I will not stand for that sort of insubordination. So, since he felt it necessary to take our disagreements into the public forum, I find it only fair that I do the same.” The crowd is restless. There are several attempts at an “asshole” chant, but they die away as the anticipation builds. King turns slowly in the ring, making a complete circuit as if searching someone out. Finally, his gaze lands on the announce table at ringside. “’Grand Slam’ Mark Stevens, get you ass in the ring!!”

 

The crowd can’t decide whether to boo King or cheer Grand Slam as the former World Champion stands up, takes off his headset, walks a few steps, grabs a mike from a Funyon and rolls into the ring. He pops right to his feet and stands toe-to-toe with King in the dead center of the ring.

 

“Mark, my old friend, how is the wife and kid? Doing well? Good. Good to hear.” King takes step or two back. “I’m glad to hear that. How did they enjoy the move back to Lincoln? I hear little Chris cried the whole way.”

 

“Leave them out of this. This is between you and me.”

 

“No Mark, it isn’t, not anymore. You took whatever beef you have against me public. You made me look like a fool on television all over the world. Have you been reading any of what the Internet sites are saying? Some punk kid had an article called ‘Is the King of Hearts losing control of the SWF?’ Some fourteen-year-old nobody is questioning me Mark! Do you have any idea what kind of an image that gives me in the locker room? Do you?” King is becoming angry now, his face starting to redden.

 

“Yes King, I do. And you deserve it.”

 

“For what? What have I done that is so bad that I deserve to be humiliated in front of my workers?”

 

“Would you like a list? It could take a while. I’ll start off with you turning your back on the Carnival and leaving me lying in the center of the ring. I think the story might peak with you forcing me to retire and then end up with you closing Bases Loaded. And that is just what you’ve done to me. In the last three weeks, you are becoming unstable and dangerous. You’re wielding that extra power you bought like a club and bashing anyone who dares to stand up to you. Well I for one am tired of it. It is time someone took a stand and if it has to be me, then it has to be me.”

 

“So you are taking a stand, eh? How does Lynn feel about your principles Mark? Will your principles put food on the table now that your nice cushy salary from Bases Loaded is gone? How about now that your precious wife has been let go from her firm and had to go scurrying back to that rat hole down the road?”

 

Grand Slam looks surprised and confused. “How did you know about that? She just found out Friday!”

 

King flashes a evil grin and lowers his head so he can look out the very tops of his eyes at the Heavy Hitter. “Let’s just say a certain Mr. Growsly has a little gambling debt problem that I was kind enough to help him out with. For a price.”

 

Grand Slam starts to step forward menacingly. “You bastard!!” He starts to throw down his mike but stops short when King starts speaking again.

 

“Now now now Mr. Stevens, I don’t think you should be doing that. You are just an announcer, and without a special waiver, anything you do to me is unsanctioned and subject to the laws here in your fine home state. Convenient that, isn’t it. You were able to help your family move out of Chicago and still not miss the show! What a dedicated employee you are!”

 

“I’ll sign the waiver King! You want me? You’ve got me! Let’s settle this right now you little shit! I’m tired of all these games you play. You and me, one-on-one, one more time right here!!”

 

As the crowd goes insane, popping like overfilled balloons, Grand Slam takes off his suit jacket and tie, throwing them to the ringside attendant. He unbuttons his shirt collar and then whips off his trademark SWF baseball cap and flings it over his shoulder into the crowd. A near riot ensues as people scramble to get this one of a kind souvenir!

 

But the Gambling Man hasn’t played his hole card yet. “No Mark, I don’t think so. But I have a way to end this tonight. And don’t think I am exaggerating when I say that I have been waiting a long, long time to do this.” He reaches into his coat pocket and pulls out a thick stack of official looking papers. “Do you recognize this Mark? This is the announcing contract you signed with my predecessor. I never had anything to do with this, and I didn’t have to authority to do anything about it, until now.”

 

Suddenly, Grand Slam looks defeated, as if all of the air has been blasted out of his lungs. Quietly, slowly, and unseen by most of the home viewers, a small army of security files out from the backstage area and surrounds the ring. The crowd in the arena sees them though and starts to scream, yelling at Grand Slam to be wary. But the Heavy Hitter is in a no-man’s land. He slowly picks up the mike he discarded earlier and raises it to his lips. “You wouldn’t.”

 

“I would. Mark Stevens, you have been a fine announcer, and I am sure the fans will never forget you. But as of this moment, in light of your public threats and mutinous behavior, you are been released from your contract and no longer an employee of the Smartmarks Wrestling Federation. Your last check will arrive in the mail shortly. Enjoy the rest of your life. Security!!”

 

As if released from some sort of spell, the last word not only causes Security to flood the ring, but Grand Slam to lurch forward! As several men in blue uniforms try to hold him back, the Heavy Hitter surges forward and manages to clamp a huge right hand on the suit coat of the Suicide King!! The Heartbreaker moves fast, spinning out of his suit coat faster than the eye can see. Grand Slam is left clutching nothing but fabric and memories. The security team finally manages to pull Grand Slam out of the ring and start to push him up the ramp. He realizes he is still clutching the mike in his left had, and he uses it. “King, you bastard!! You won’t get away with this!! I swear to you!! And that’s a promise!!”

 

As King steps out of the ring and makes his way to the recently vacated announcer’s chair, he uses his mike one last time before handing it over to Funyon. “I already have Mark. Bet on it.”

 

He sits down next to Riley and motions for the stunned color commentator to carry on as usual.

 

“Ummm… well… Ladies and Gentlemen, let’s take a look at a video package highlighting the history behind tonight’s main event.”

 

As the production truck cues up the tape, the last thing seen is the Suicide King, Commissioner of the SWF, smiling like a cat that just devoured the mouse it has been toying with for hours. And it is a very satisfied look indeed.

[Guest Suicide King]

TALE OF THE TAPE

 

 

The Boston Strangler

 

Height: 6' 9"

Weight: 303 lbs.

Hometown: Boston, Mass.

Finishing Move: Boston Massacre, Southie Slam

Career Highlights:

- Current SWF World Heavyweight Champion

- Former SWF Hardcore Champion

- Has retired Erek Taylor from active competition

- Charter member of the Magnificent Seven

 

 

***

 

 

Thoth

 

Height: 6' 3"

Weight: 245 lbs.

Hometown: Aechiba, Japan

Finishing Move: Riot Of The Blood, Scum Gale

Career Highlights:

- Former 2-time SWF Tag Team Champion (w/ Spider Nekura & Ced Ordonez)

- Former 3-time ICTV Champion (once as Orochi) [tied for most reigns w/ Fallout]

- Former SWF United States Champion [holds record for longest reign]

- Former SWF World Heavyweight Champion

[Guest Suicide King]

The Omaha Civic Center in Omaha, Nebraska is still rather silent. A strange aura hangs over the home of SWF Ground Zero as 15,000 SWF fanatics, who had been screaming their heads off all night, are now either sitting in their seats silently, or murmuring amongst themselves. The SWF SmarkTron flashes the logo, and then a graphic hyping the upcoming main event, but nothing more than a small cheer manages to find its way out of the crowds. The camera pans over to the Suicide King and Bobby Riley sitting at the announce desk. King adjusts the headset and looks around, getting his bearings, while Riley just stares straight ahead, looking rather uncomfortable. Finally, King stops fussing with the equipment, and turns towards the camera. King softens his trademark cold glare, and stares forward toward the camera. “To all our viewers out there, welcome back to SWF Ground Zero! You all know me, the Suicide King, alongside Bobby Riley. I apologize for the unpleasantness earlier, but sometimes, problems need to be addressed at inopportune moments. However, tonight has yet to conclude, and it will conclude in a grand fashion! Tonight, the Boston Strangler, who is the reigning SWF World Champion, will defend the SWF Title against the man whom he defeated in July for the belt, Thoth. However, this match will be a pure fight between a man who wants to prove he truly is the best, and another who wants to show that his defeat weeks ago was a mistake. Tonight, Strangler and Thoth battle in a Street Fight in the main event of one of the greatest SWF PPV’s of all time!”

 

Bobby Riley doesn’t respond to a single word that King has said, choosing to stare at his hands instead. King looks over to Bobby, who looks up, surprised to find King looking at him. “Is something wrong, Bobby?” inquires King, with what seems to be a threat, rather than a question. “Oh…nothing. I was just thinking of how excited Grand Slam was over this matchup. Ever since he had helped out Strangler, he’d been excited to see him progress…he would have liked this match.”

 

“Strangler and Stevens are both unworthy of the praise that has been heaped upon them. Strangler is a backstabbing liar who decided to turn his back on me against Neilsen. Stevens lied to his superiors to bring scum like him back into the federation. Fortunately, only one of them remains.” Riley sinks back into his seat, resigned, as King looks forward, with the cold look returning to his face. “Do you have a problem with the decision that I made, Bobby?” asks King in the cold, hard voice once again. “What? Um….no….of course not. You’re the boss. You did what was best for the company. Now it’s time to see Strangler get his ass handed to him by Thoth.” Riley’s voice is still shaky, but the answer pacifies King. King turns his seat back to the camera, and the icy stare is immediately replaced by King’s version of a warm grin. “Well, I think that these fans have waited long enough. It’s time to finish up the night in grand, bloody fashion. Let’s go down to faithful SWF employee Funyon in order to start the proceedings.”

 

The ring bell sounds three times, and the lights go down, with a solitary spotlight focused on Funyon in the center of the ring. The proceedings seem to somewhat snap the crowd out of its funk, as a loud cheer starts to rise throughout the Omaha Civic Center. All eyes are finally on Funyon, whose face is flush with emotion over the proceedings of the evening. “LADIES AND GENTLEMEN!” cries Funyon, “IT IS TIME FOR TONIGHT’S……MAIN EVENT!” A louder cheer erupts throughout the building as people’s minds begin to return to the title match at hand. “TONIGHT’S MAIN EVENT IS FOR THE S…W….F WORLD HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPIONSHIP! IT IS SCHEDULED FOR ONE FALL, AND IT WILL BE HELD UNDER STREET FIGHT RULES!” The crowd roars even louder, although the cheers still seem somewhat half-hearted. “Strategy will play a large part in this match…which seemingly stacks the deck even further against Strangler” remarks King. “To win, the pinfall has to take place in the middle of the ring. So even if TBS gets lucky and beats Thoth all over the building, he’ll still have to bring him back to the ring to end the match.” Riley searches for something to say. “Well…yeah. This match does have some strategy involved…but no matter what, it still comes down to pure, unadulterated violence.” “Well put, Bobby” quips King.

 

Funyon’s spotlight disappears as red strobe lights kick up all over the arena. After a moment, “Go To Hell” by KMFDM kicks up over the speaker system. The drum beats matches up with the strobe lights as Thoth appears on the stage. His face displays a look of calm, which is sure to disappear in a moment’s time. Thoth stands up on the stage for a solid 15 seconds as he looks out over the scene, trying to take it all in. He looks over and catches eyes with the Suicide King at the commentary table. They stare at each other for a moment, then Thoth cracks a small grin before turning away. He pauses a moment more, then starts his way down the ramp, cueing Funyon’s introduction. “FIRST, INTRODUCING THE CHALLENGER! HE IS FROM AECHIBA, JAPAN! WEIGHING IN AT 245 POUNDS, HE IS THOOOOOOOOOOOOOTH!” The Balancer makes his way to the bottom of the ramp and slides gracefully into the ring. He gets to his feet and ignores everyone in the arena taking out their frustrations on him. Mark Hebner comes over to speak to him, but Thoth waves him away. Hebner walks away and stands next to Funyon as the strobe lights, as well as “Go To Hell”, fade out. The arena remains dim, however.

 

The lights then drop all the way out, and a familiar guitar riff begins to kick up. The fans roar in delight, grateful to have something to cheer, as the SmarkTron flashes white with the word “STRANGLER”. “Godzilla” launches into high gear as a massive explosion of white pyro forces the audience to cover their eyes. As they turn back to the stage, still blinking, a solitary man comes striding through the billowing smoke. The fans renew their enthusiasm as Strangler steps fully out of the smoke and looks around at the 15,000+ fans, with the SWF Title belt slung over his shoulder, and a pair of kendo sticks clutched tightly in his hand. “Strangler isn’t wasting any time” remarks Riley, as Strangler turns his gaze to the announce booth, much like Thoth. However, Strangler is much quicker to react, as he gives the SWF Commissioner a one-fingered salute. The fans go nuts, while King just mutters under his breath, forgetting about the microphone. “You’ll get yours, asshole” mutters the commish as Strangler turns back towards the ring and starts the arduous descent towards the ring. “AND INTRODUCING THE CHAMPION! HE HAILS FROM BOSTON, MASSACHUSETTS! WEIGHING IN AT 303 POUNDS, HE IS THE S….W….F WORLD CHAMPION! HE IS THE BOSTON….STRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRANGLER!” Strangler quickly makes it to the bottom of the ramp and slides into the ring, still clutching the kendo sticks. Strangler looks to his shoulder, where the SWF Title hangs, then lets it drop to the canvas.

 

Hebner walks over to speak to TBS, but Strangler walks right past him towards Thoth. In one seamless motion, Strangler tosses one of the kendo sticks to a surprised Thoth. Thoth reaches out and catches the kendo stick, and starts to raise it, but a brutal shot from Strangler straight into the jaw sends the kendo stick clattering to the canvas, and sends Thoth flying backwards against the ropes. “He sure didn’t waste any time” comments Riley as Strangler walks forward and grabs the fallen kendo stick. Hebner walks over and chastises Strangler, but the SWF Champion looks at Hebner with an amused grin. “Hey, I gave him a fair chance.” Strangler’s remark is picked up on a ringside mic, and Hebner, seemingly satisfied, scoops up the SWF Title belt and heads for the ringside table while signaling for the bell to get the match underway.

 

 

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

 

 

“And the main event is underway!” decrees King. “Time for Strangler to lose ANOTHER Street Fight at Ground Zero. Maybe next year he can get a match with Xero in a Street Fight so he actually has a chance at winning one of these things.” Strangler walks over and drills Thoth, who has fallen back against the ropes, with another stiff shot from the kendo stick. Thoth twirls off to the side, doing his best to shield himself from the blow, but Strangler rears back and drills Thoth square in the stomach with the other stick. Thoth doubles over, then drops to the canvas as Strangler shatters one kendo stick, then the other, over the back of Thoth’s skull. Thoth takes the opportunity and quickly rolls out of the ring, trying to figure out what the hell just happened to him. Strangler looks down at the two kendo sticks, which have almost completely come apart at the seams, and kicks them off to the side of the ring before sliding outside. Thoth looks up, and sees Strangler right on his tail. Thoth quickly darts away, still staggering a little bit, and Strangler picks up the pace to keep up.

 

“Wow, he can run. I didn’t expect that one” jabs King as Strangler slides into the ring after Thoth. “It’s like watching a decrepid 80 year old woman try and move!” Riley’s follow-up triggers a smile from King as Thoth bounces off the ropes and heads straight for Strangler. Strangler is slightly off-balance as he pushes himself up off the canvas, and Thoth slams into Strangler with a huge running clothesline. Strangler goes crashing to the canvas, as does Thoth, who really put his shoulder into the maneuver. Strangler rolls over on his side and brushes up against the ropes, while Thoth tumbles forward and ends up flat on his back. Both men quickly get to their feet, and reach a standing position at exactly the same time. They whirl around and spy each other, and quickly straighten up. The two of them lock eyes and stand there, simply staring at each other. The crowd gets into the confrontation, and gets loud while the two men continue their staring contest.

 

Finally, Strangler makes the first move, and throws a big right cross towards Thoth’s head. Thoth quickly sidesteps the punch and counters with a sharp, quick jab that catches Strangler in the middle of the ribcage. “Strangler was going to punch, and got caught out of position there” comments Riley objectively. “Thoth did a good job exploiting Strangler’s slower reaction time.” “Hell, I’ve seen turtles with better reflexes than Strangler!” King chuckles to himself, and Riley chimes in a second later, although the look on his face is rather grim. Strangler starts to straighten up, and a knee to the face by Thoth helps, as Strangler goes flying up into a standing position. Thoth backs up and bounces off the rope again, and goes charging all the way across the ring towards Strangler, who has stumbled back to lean against the ropes and regroup. Thoth goes flying into the air and crashes into Strangler with a flying cross body, but Strangler saw the move coming, and had just enough time to react. Strangler grabs ahold of Thoth and pins him against his body. The crowd picks up again, cheering as Strangler looks around, then sets himself. He leans forward, then bends backwards and sends Thoth flying overhead with a fallaway slam. Thoth goes flying over the top rope and flies all the way to the floor outside, which draws a big “OOOOOH!” from the crowd as Thoth slams to the ground and rolls hard into the ringside barricade.

 

“Ouch…” whispers King, who seems impressed by the maneuver, as the fans applaud Strangler’s big move. Strangler bends over and climbs under the ring ropes to the apron on the outside. Thoth shakes his head and quickly gets back to his feet as he tries not to show the toll the match has already taken on him. Strangler readies himself, then goes flying off the turnbuckle and drills Thoth over the head with a big double axe handle. “It’s not often that you see Strangler going for high-risk maneuvers like that…and calling that a high-risk maneuver is a bit of a stretch. Still, it’s a good way for him to keep the momentum going.” Riley’s point is accepted by King as Strangler picks Thoth up off the ground and immediately drags him towards the ring. Strangler grabs a handful of Thoth’s red hair on the back of his head, and swings it backwards before slamming Thoth face-first into the ring apron. Thoth’s face bounces back up, and Strangler sends it swinging downward again as Thoth eats a face-full of ring apron. “Strangler is really taking it to Thoth right now” says Riley as Strangler follows it up with a third faceplant for Thoth. “Strangler doesn’t have what it takes to win the big one, Bobby. You know that for a fact. You’ve even said it yourself. Strangler might start out hot, and do a lot of damage, but he won’t be leaving Omaha with the title.”

 

Strangler takes Thoth by the hair and paces along the outside until he comes up towards the ring steps. Strangler takes a step back, then charges forward and tosses Thoth headfirst towards the steps. Thoth goes smashing into the steps, sending the top half of the stairs skidding along the ground on the outside. Another “OOOOH!” rises up from the crowd as Thoth sprawls out over the bottom half of the ring steps and lies there, hardly moving, as he tries to figure out where he is exactly. “Thoth has taken a lot of blows to the head early on, King” remarks Riley. “Although Strangler is the one who acts like he’s taken a number of blows to the head” shoots back King, with the cruel look on his face. “I know! I swear, if the guy got any dumber, he’d start moving backwards on the evolutionary ladder!” The two men chuckle, then turn their attention back to the action at ringside. Strangler has retrieved the top half of the ring steps, and has his eyes locked straight onto Thoth. Thoth finally comes to his senses, and looks up to see Strangler winding up, with the steel ringsteps looming high above him. Strangler pauses for just a moment, then sends the steps hurtling straight downwards At the last moment, Thoth manages to roll off the steel ringsteps, and a huge THUNK! noise rises up throughout the arena. Strangler drops the steps and sees Thoth digging underneath the ring, looking for something. Strangler heads over, looking to cut off the Balancer’s attempts to get back into the match. Strangler bends down to grab Thoth by the seat of his pants, but at that moment, Thoth emerges from underneath the ring apron with a trash can lid in his hand. Thoth whirls onto his back and smashes Strangler across the forehead with the lid, which silences the crowd.

 

“And Thoth takes the momentum with a shot that caught Strangler way off-guard” says Riley as Strangler draws back and leans against the crowd barrier, definitely taken by surprise. Fans clap Strangler on the back and cheer him on, but they quickly head for cover as Thoth charges forward and drills TBS with another hard shot from the trash can lid. Strangler leans back, and nearly falls over the crowd barrier, but manages to keep his balance and gets back into a somewhat-standing position. Thoth, meanwhile, has taken a few steps backwards and to the right, and eyes Strangler with the evil glint rising in his eye once again. “He’s going for the knockout blow! Get him, Thoth!” cries King eagerly. Thoth charges forward while the stunned Strangler still looks around, not spying his opponent. Thoth goes racing toward Strangler, with his dented trashcan lid raised high, but Strangler ducks underneath the shot. As Thoth goes by, Strangler grabs ahold of Thoth’s leg and sends him high into the air, before the flapjack sends Thoth’s already-battered jaw crashing squarely into the crowd barrier. The fans revive and cheer on the reversal of fortunes while Strangler props himself up against the crowd barrier, just a few short feet to the left of Thoth, who finds himself in the same position. “Ah, crap” is all King can muster, in a somewhat disappointed voice.

 

“Well, now both men are somewhat discombobulated, and Thoth’s jaw appears to be annoying him once again. Those early kendo stick shots, coupled with landing face-first on the crowd barrier, can’t be a good combo.” King doesn’t reply, instead choosing to watch the two men trying to get back into it. Hebner briefly checks with both men, pausing just a moment with Thoth to check the condition of his jaw. This seems to bring Thoth back to life, as he brusquely shoves Hebner off to the side and heads for Strangler, who is taking his time getting back into gear. Thoth strides over and delivers a stiff forearm shot to Strangler’s temple, which sends Strangler shooting backwards. Thoth takes advantage and reaches out to grab Strangler. He reaches up and takes a handful of TBS’s hair, and forces him closer to the ring. Thoth pulls down and rolls Strangler into the ring, before rolling in behind him.

 

“Great move by Thoth here, great move.” King’s voice has a tinge of admiration in it as he continues. “His best chance is to keep this match in the ring on his terms, rather than letting it turn into an environment where Strangler seems to thrive. He’s a junk wrestler, and needs weapons to thrive.” Riley turns to King and looks confused. “But King, Strangler beat Thoth cleanly in the ring last time.” “Every dog has its day. And Strangler won’t get lucky like that again.” Riley looks at King, with some reluctance still on his face. “I suppose you’re right. Strangler really doesn’t know what he’s doing.”

 

Thoth pushes himself to his feet with his right hand, while he uses his left hand to gently rub his jaw, which is obviously still giving him a lot of pain. Strangler has grabbed ahold of the ropes and is pulling himself up at a steady pace, totally ignoring Thoth. Thoth sprints forward and crashes into the back of Strangler with another hard forearm shot. Strangler goes pressing up against the ropes and has some of the wind knocked out of him as Thoth bounces off the big man, and immediately looks for his next opening. Thoth charges again and slams into Strangler’s back in the exact same spot with another hard forearm. Strangler groans as more wind rushes out of his lungs, and Thoth backs up before charging a third time. Thoth sprints forwards and connects yet again, sending the air whooshing out of Strangler’s lungs. As Thoth bounces backwards, he delivers a hard, sharp kick to the back of Strangler’s knee. Strangler, caught by surprise, has his leg buckle underneath him, and Thoth grabs Strangler by the weakened base. He pulls Strangler backwards into a textbook school boy directly in front of Hebner, who immediately drops down into position to make the first count of the match.

 

 

 

 

 

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

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TW….KICKOUT!

 

 

“Not enough early on for Thoth to even pick up a two count on Strangler, who sent a message with that kickout. Still, with the amount of punishment that Strangler has taken already, and with how little impact it seems to have had, you have to wonder what it’ll take for Thoth to take Strangler down.” King immediately steps in to answer the question: “Bobby, you and I both know that Strangler can’t keep up with Thoth. Thoth only possesses average speed, but Strangler’s extremely slow in both the physical and mental sense. All Thoth needs to do is keep up his current strategy. If Strangler can’t catch him, he can’t land a power move, and he can’t use weapons. Eventually, Thoth will wear down TBS and end this one. And since pinfalls need to take place in the ring, Thoth has an advantage there as well.” Riley nods his head in agreement. “Actually, I was thinking that earlier…I’m just so used to arguing with the guy in that seat.”

 

Thoth pushes off the ground, with an all-business look still on his face. He gets back to his feet and looks over at Strangler, who is pushing himself up at the same methodical pace he has been all night. Thoth brings his hand to his jaw once again, unconsciously favoring his injured mandible. Strangler starts to pull himself up to his feet, but Thoth sneaks up behind him and quickly locks on a sleeper hold. Strangler straightens up, and Thoth fights to keep the sleeper locked on while keeping his feet on the ground. Strangler and Thoth start to strain against each other, as Thoth tries to keep Strangler as close to the canvas as possible, while Strangler tries to force himself up against the Balancer’s wishes. Thoth lashes out his right leg and catches Strangler in the back of the knee again, and the unexpected blow to one of Strangler’s massive legs sends Strangler lurching forward and down towards the canvas. “Bobby, that was superb technique by Thoth. He knocked the knee out, and now he had the height advantage, which he used to gain the leverage to keep Strangler under control. Great tactical work. Almost worthy of the Suicide King himself.”

 

Thoth continues to force down on Strangler, keeping the sleeper hold locked on. “King, I partially agree with you. Submissions are a good technique to go with, but this isn’t the right one. Strangler’s gonna take the advantage real soon, in my opinion, based purely on raw power. Still, Thoth is definitely on the right path to taking Strangler out once and for all.” Sure enough, Strangler finally manages to get his footing back, and goes shooting up into a full standing position. Thoth is yanked along, but somehow manages to keep the sleeper applied. Strangler reaches around blindly, groping for Thoth, and finally places his hands on the side of Thoth’s head. Strangler leans back, then pulls Thoth forward over his head before he crashes against the canvas, flat on his back. The crowd, although still subdued, is starting to come back to life. Thoth hops right back up, but Strangler charges forward and absolutely flattens Thoth with a big right clothesline. TBS turns, then charges again at Thoth, flattening him again with the big clothesline. Thoth gets up a third time, and charges towards the stationary Strangler, but Strangler sidesteps Thoth’s clothesline. “Doesn’t look like Strangler’s having any trouble with that knee Thoth targeted a couple times” observes Riley. Thoth storms past Strangler and bounces off the far ropes, but runs right back into a big boot from Strangler, which knocks Thoth flat on his back. Strangler turns to the far ropes and goes sprinting as fast as he can towards them. Strangler bounces off and heads back towards Thoth, gathering up steam as he goes before leaping into the air (“Is that as high as he can jump? Hell, my grandma can jump higher than that!” cracks King) and drilling Thoth squarely across the chest with a hard elbow drop.

 

“That crowd’s getting behind Strangler in a hurry, King. Shows what happens when you book PPV’s in Stevens country.” King looks annoyed. “Riley, how about we don’t talk about our dearly departed colleague for the rest of the night? How’s that sound?” Riley can do nothing but nod as Strangler gets up and quickly plays to the crowd, reveling in the cheers of the sold-out Omaha Civic Center. Strangler quickly picks Thoth up, and immediately whips him towards the ropes. Thoth comes bouncing back, and Strangler tosses him up onto his shoulders before falling backwards, nailing Thoth with a big samoan drop. “Strangler’s got him down and he’s going for the cover…no, he’s not…I don’t like Strangler’s decision-making here, King.” Strangler starts to scoop Thoth off the canvas as King replies, “Of course you don’t. Strangler’s strength has never lain in his grasp of ring psychology. And when you get to this high a level, pure violence isn’t enough to get by on. This is why Strangler’s not gonna leave Nebraska with that belt around his waist.”

 

Strangler has Thoth off the canvas, and he immediately applies a rear waistlock, grabbing Thoth close to him. Thoth is aware of what’s coming next, and starts fighting Strangler’s grasp, trying to escape from his clutches. However, Strangler’s grip proves to be too strong for Thoth to break, and Strangler sets himself for the German suplex. As a last-ditch attempt, Thoth wraps his right leg around Strangler’s, and braces himself as best he can. Strangler goes for the German, but Thoth manages to block it and stay on the mat. Strangler tries again, but once again has no luck. Thoth throws an elbow back at Strangler’s skull, but Strangler dodges the elbow and follows with a knee to the small of Thoth’s back. Thoth cries out in pain, and Strangler takes advantage of the momentary break in Thoth’s concentration. Strangler lifts Thoth, and throws Thoth back over his head. Another big “OOOOOH!” rises from the crowd as Thoth goes soaring all the way across the ring before slamming into the bottom turnbuckle and lying there, motionless. “Goddamn, that’s GOT to hurt!” exclaims Riley as Strangler gets up, with a big round of appreciative applause coming from the capacity crowd.

 

“Now he’s GOT to be going for the cover…but he’s not, because he’s a friggin’ retard!” shouts King as Strangler ignores the nearly-unconscious Thoth in the corner, and instead slips to the outside. The crowd buzzes in anticipation as Strangler ducks underneath the ring apron, and starts digging around underneath the ring. “Good, now he can cost me even MORE money by breaking MORE stuff” grumbles King as Strangler emerges with a garbage can, filled with a kendo stick and street sign, as well as a metal chain. The materials go flying into the ring, with the trash can rolling to the center, and Strangler heads back under to find more materials. After a few moments, he emerges to a big pop with a steel chair, which goes flying into the ring as well. Strangler starts to slide into the ring, but the corner of his eye catches the ringside table, and he starts to head towards the ringside attendants. He snatches the ring bell, and grabs the SWF World Title belt from a startled Funyon, and then slides into the ring with the last of his treasures. “Holy crap, that’s a LOT of stuff there…” mutters Riley. “And it’s gonna cause Strangler a LOT of pain. He’s still in the ring, he’s giving Thoth free weapons…how stupid can this guy act? Is he just a Special Olympics guy who wandered away during the tour?” demands King.

 

Strangler drops the ring bell and the title belt, and surveys all the weapons that have made their way into the ring. He looks around, and ultimately eschews the weapons, instead making his way straight for Thoth. “Well, that last 30 seconds was totally pointless then,” says King in disbelief. Strangler grabs Thoth and immediately turns around, standing back to back with Thoth. Strangler reaches back and grabs Thoth underneath the jaw before lifting Thoth up into the air. Strangler pulls up on Thoth’s neck and jaw as he tries to free himself desperately from the extremely painful maneuver. “A good decision by Strangler, which helps to make up for all those bad ones. He targeted the jaw earlier, and now a hangman choke is gonna put Thoth in a LOT of pain. Not an easy move to escape from, either.” Strangler continues to work on Thoth, pulling on the neck as hard as he can. The fans get a “JUST TAP OUT! JUST TAP OUT!” chant going, and the words rain down upon the challenger, who is in a good deal of pain right now.

 

Thoth continues to struggle to free himself, and starts swinging his arms and legs, doing whatever’s necessary to free himself. Strangler can feel himself beginning to lose his grip on Thoth, and struggles to keep the submission on as the “JUST TAP OUT!” chants continue. Finally, Strangler feels the grip slipping, and Strangler changes direction as he drops down and drills Thoth with a big neckbreaker out of the hangman position. Strangler rolls over and hooks the leg on Thoth (“FINALLY!”, exclaims King), and makes the cover as Hebner drops into position.

 

 

 

 

 

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

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

T…..KICKOUT!

 

 

 

“No luck, as Thoth kicks out just after a two-count. An impressive job by Thoth to kick out as early as he did. Despite the massive beating Strangler has been laying on Thoth so far tonight, Thoth is still a long ways from going down, and it’s just another sign that this is gonna be one monster match,” explains Riley to the viewers at home. “Man, explaining this stuff is hard….I dunno how…’he’….did it all the time.”

 

Strangler gets to his feet, looking slightly miffed at how quickly Thoth had kicked out. Strangler walks on over to the cache of weapons lying on the floor of the ring, and looks around, trying to find the right one. He finally selects the garbage can, and drags it over a couple feet before laying it down right in front of Thoth. Having set up the garbage can, Strangler picks up Thoth and applies a double underhook, looking to hit the Guilty Conscience. Strangler looks up and signals to the crowd, which allows Thoth’s right arm to slip away. Thoth looks around, and spies the kendo stick poking out of the end of the trash can. Thoth extends his fingers and manages to wrap his fingers around the end of the stick just as Strangler sets himself and begins to lift. Strangler hoists Thoth up into a Canadian backbreaker, but before he can send Thoth crashing back to earth, and the waiting garbage can, Thoth lashes out and drills Strangler in the middle of the face with the kendo stick. “NICE brutality!” cries King as Strangler starts to waver backwards. Thoth quickly takes advantage by slipping off behind Strangler while Strangler holds his nose as a small stream of blood begins to run out the left nostril.

 

Strangler presses his hand against his head, trying to stem the flow of blood, and turns around to find Thoth ready and waiting, with the kendo stick in hand. Thoth leans back, and hits Strangler with an absolutely brutal shot to the head. The stick shatters outright into three pieces, which go flying across the ring as Strangler looks over at Thoth, with a confused look on his face. Strangler finally loses his balance and drops to the canvas in a sitting position, totally stunned by the brutal shot. “That has to be one of the stiffest kendo stick shots I’ve seen in all my years of professional wrestling” offers Riley, which gets no argument from King. Thoth runs to the ropes, rebounds off the ropes, and goes charging toward Strangler from the back. Thoth lifts his right leg and connects with a hard knee to the back of TBS’s skull. The CRACK! of kneecap and skull colliding can be heard throughout the entire arena as Strangler leans forward before gravity takes over and sends him flopping on his back. Thoth rolls over, hooks Strangler’s massive leg, and goes for the cover.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THRRR……KICKOUT!

 

 

“Well, Thoth is definitely making progress, as it took Strangler a good deal more time to get up from that pinfall than last time. At this rate, we’ll be able to get out of here early yet, King” comments Bobby as Thoth rolls over and gets right back to his feet without a second’s pause. Thoth looks around and sees the garbage can, originally intended for him, still lying on the canvas. Thoth grabs ahold of the garbage can and places it over Strangler’s upper body and part of his face, and then turns and heads for the nearest turnbuckle. “I dunno what he’s planning, but it’s gonna hurt him AND Strangler.” “Bobby, that’s true, but if Thoth can land this one, I’d say that this match could quite easily be over. And Thoth knows that the sooner he can end this one, the better.” Thoth scales the turnbuckles and reaches his perch at the top, where he holds up for a moment. He looks out at the Omaha crowd and flashes one of his trademark sneers, which draw a huge round of boos from the crowd. Thoth seems to lose interest in the fans and turns back to Strangler. He looks down at his target, and instead sees a trash can hurtling straight towards his face. The trash can connects square in the kisser, and Thoth goes flying backwards off the top rope all the way to the outside, where he lands hard and doesn’t move. Strangler, still lying on his back, starts to crawl to his feet so he can admire his handiwork.

 

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, King, but that was an ingenious move by Strangler. It buys him some time, does some damage, and it looked pretty damn cool too.” Riley’s comments are lost on King: “Doesn’t matter. Thoth can still run circles around Strangler, and he’s tough enough to take a shot or two every now and then.” Strangler finally gets to his feet and looks over the ropes at Thoth, who is trying to get to his feet, with a deal of difficulty. Mark Hebner talks to Strangler, and Strangler waves him out of the way as he backs up to the other side of the ring. Thoth is finally to his feet, and is wavering around, still out of sorts, as Strangler reaches the other side of the ring. “What the hell does he have planned here? No….he’s not….!” exclaims Riley as Strangler goes charging forward and, using the top rope for leverage, goes flying over the top. Thoth never sees Strangler coming, and is caught totally off-guard as the 300-pound World Champion smacks into Thoth with unimaginable force. A small “HOLY SHIT!” chant starts out, but quickly dies down as Strangler and Thoth start to untangle from one another, looking to be the first to their feet. “I’ve never seen that kind of agility from Strangler…I didn’t know he had it in him!” proclaims Bobby, with a slight hint of respect in his voice, although a quick cough from the man sitting next to him shuts him up very quickly.

 

Strangler has a grip on the ring apron, and has started to hoist himself up while Thoth is using the crowd barrier to get to his feet. The crowd, still electric from Strangler’s flight, starts to clap for Strangler to be the first one up, and are rewarded when TBS shakily gets to his feet. As Thoth pulls himself to a vertical position, Strangler starts to wobble towards Thoth, with the appearance of a punch-drunk fighter on his last legs. Strangler reaches Thoth just as he turns around, and drills Thoth squarely across his bare chest with a knife-edge chop. Thoth shoots back, reeling from the blow, but then recovers and launches forward with his own knife-edge chop that connects with Strangler’s upper body. The crack isn’t as loud, due to Strangler’s t-shirt, but the WHOO! from the crowd is just as loud as before. Strangler leans back, and hits Thoth with another chop, but Thoth replies with another one of his own. Strangler leans back, as if to go for a third chop, but instead surprises Thoth with a sharp toe kick with his left foot. Thoth doubles over, and Strangler puts his two hands together before clubbing him over the back of the head with a big double axe handle. The clubbing blow drops Thoth to the ground on the outside, now holding the back of his head.

 

“This match has become an all-out brawl now, and Strangler seems to have the advantage, although it might not last for long. This has been a true back and forth battle tonight!” Riley’s comments are drowned out by the cheers of the crowd, who have become firmly engrossed in this battle between two of the best the SWF has to offer. Strangler picks Thoth up roughly by his bright-red mane, and pulls him backwards as he walks by the commentary table at ringside. “What the hell does Strangler have planned now?” asks King as TBS leads Thoth to one end of the ringside area. “Is he gonna ask Thoth to be his new steroid buddy?” Riley suppresses a chuckle as Strangler readies himself, then goes charging forward, with Thoth being dragged along at his right side while doubled over. Strangler reaches the end of the ring, and sends Thoth swinging head-first into the crowd barricade at a tremendous speed. The barricade gives out, and topples over backwards into the crowd as Thoth goes sliding into the crowd, to the surprise of everyone in the building.

 

“Holy shit! Strangler just sent Thoth head-first into the barrier so hard that the friggin’ thing fell down! Thoth could be seriously injured! This raises so many questions, namely, ‘Why Thoth? Why not Strangler?’” King is the only one joking around, as Riley cranes his neck to see the train wreck that has ensued to his right. Strangler is looking around for Thoth, but Thoth has vanished into the crowd of people. The front-row fans start to charge forward into the ringside area as Strangler fights through them, searching for his advesary. “Security! Get over there and get those idiots out of here! And you! Stay here. I don’t want any of them coming over to me.” King continues barking out orders as Strangler has to force his way through the crowd of well-wishers. Security quickly controls the breach, and pushes the fans back out of the ringside area as Strangler catches sight of Thoth a few dozen feet ahead of him in the crowd. “Looks like the chase is on, King!” shouts Riley as Strangler charges through a path cleared by security towards Thoth.

 

Thoth turns and notices Strangler charging hard from behind, and immediately starts to stagger forward as fast as he can go. Strangler is starting to pick up ground, albeit slowly, and Thoth tries to pick up the pace, noticing how much closer Strangler is growing. Thoth reaches the crowd barricade down by the entrance ramp, and climbs over it as Strangler approaches the barricade. He starts to climb over as Thoth spies a pile of electrical equipment. He rips a random box with gauges on the front of it out, and runs towards Strangler. Strangler is hung up on the barricade, and can’t dodge the blow as Thoth charges and drills Strangler upside the skull with the black box. Strangler manages to remain perched upon the barricade as Thoth takes the opportunity to start pummeling Strangler with all the energy he has, sending shot after shot after shot into Strangler’s torso. “He’s a regular Mike Tyson, Riley! He’s out-brawling Strangler! That’s a feat in and of itself!”

 

Strangler finally manages to block a punch, and answers back with a trademark Strangler right cross that catches an off-guard Thoth by surprise. Strangler starts to pull himself off the barricade, and Thoth looks around for anything that he can use as a weapon. Thoth looks around, and finally spies a folding chair, all folded up, propped up against another stack of electrical equipment. Thoth snags the chair, and turns around, but a charging Strangler immediately spears Thoth straight to the concrete floor. The crowd goes nuts for the move as Strangler rolls off Thoth’s lifeless carcass and lies on the concrete, gasping for air. Thoth doesn’t budge at all, looking like the life has been totally drained out of him by Strangler’s huge spear. “Both men are laid out, and although one would think that Strangler has the advantage here, it’s possible that Thoth could be the first to get up!” Riley stops talking and looks over, trying to catch a glimpse of the action, but soon resorts back to the monitor to keep tabs on the match.

 

Strangler is stirring first, and starts to crawl towards Thoth. Hebner has finally caught up with the two men, and watches as Strangler starts to lay his arm over Thoth for the cover. Hebner starts to yell at Strangler, reminding him that pinfalls only count in the ring during this match up. Strangler looks up, comprehends what Hebner is saying, and curses loudly. “Strangler’s lack of any intelligence whatsoever comes back to bite him in the ass here, as he wasted precious time going for a pin for no good reason. Strangler’s just too friggin’ dumb to win this match, Riley.” Strangler starts to push himself up, but the delay has given Thoth time to recover, and he starts to push himself up to his feet as well. Strangler is the first to his feet, and he seems to have recovered some of his drive as he gets to his feet. The determined look on his face is a contrast to the weary, battered face of Thoth now, as a small cut seems to have opened up on the back of his shoulder. “Now both men have bled…although there hasn’t been all that much blood yet. Somewhat surprising at this point of such a brutal match.” “Bobby, I couldn’t agree more. But I get the feeling these men will find some way to make the other one bleed like all hell.”

 

Strangler grabs Thoth by the forearm, and starts leading him towards the stage. Strangler heads straight for the base of the stage, which is covered with steel grating, and slams Thoth face-first into the barrier. Thoth bounces off, with his nose looking bent at a peculiar angle. Strangler looks at Thoth, then presses Thoth’s right cheek up against the steel grating. Strangler starts to stride forward while leading Thoth with him, and keeping his face pressed up against the grating. Thoth cries out in agony as Strangler walks the entire length of the stage, ending up at the base of the entrance ramp, before finally allowing Thoth’s face to leave the steel grating. The camera captures a picture of the right side of Thoth’s face, which is now covered with small scrapes, some of which are bleeding. “And King proves right again, as Thoth is now busted open fairly heavily here.” However, Strangler doesn’t appear to be done. He seizes Thoth by the back of the head once again, and this time presses the left side of his face up against the grating. Strangler starts to lead Thoth back along the length of the stage before finally reaching the end. Strangler drops Thoth to the ground to display his handiwork as Thoth is bleeding heavily from both sides of his face now.

 

“Strangler is looking to break Thoth right here” comments King, “but I dunno if Thoth’s gonna crack. This guy is one of the toughest mental competitors I’ve ever come across in my time here in the SWF, and Strangler is anything but. He’ll have to break Thoth physically, not mentally, to win this matchup.” Strangler searches, and notices the curtain that leads to the backstage area. Strangler bends down and takes ahold of Thoth’s forearm, but instead of hoisting him up, he drags Thoth along the ground towards the backstage areas. “That’s gotta be a lot of extra energy being exerted by Strangler, but it also does some damage to Thoth. Looks like Strangler is willing to risk sapping his last stores of energy in order to injure Thoth in away way he possibly can.” Strangler pulls Thoth through the curtain, and disappears from the sight of the crowd.

 

The entire crowd quickly whirls around to the SmarkTron, where Strangler is shown still dragging Thoth along the ground. Finally, Strangler gasps and releases Thoth, taking a break to breathe for a moment. Strangler takes note of his surroundings, and walks away a small distance from Thoth, trying to make note of where he is in the building. He finally gets a good grip on his location, and turns back to Thoth, who remains lying on the ground. Strangler reaches down to grab Thoth, but the Balancer manages to shoot off the ground and drill Strangler square in the groin with a low blow. “Playing possum! Great cerebral move by Thoth!” cries King. The Omaha Civic Center fills with boos at the underhanded move as Strangler, clutching his groin, drops to his knees.

 

Thoth pushes himself up with some difficulty, but gets cleanly to his feet. He looks down at the incapacitated Strangler with contempt, and lashes out, drilling Strangler straight in the face with a stiff soccer-style kick. Strangler goes flying backwards and crashes onto his back, obviously in a good deal of pain. Thoth slowly walks over and bends down to pick Strangler up off the floor into a half-standing position. Strangler stays doubled over, barely on his feet, as Thoth quickly hooks Strangler’s arms off to one side before dropping him with a double-armed DDT. Strangler splats right onto his face and doesn’t move a muscle as Thoth rests on top of TBS’ back for just a moment before starting to push himself up. “I’m guessing that after that move, Strangler has managed to do the impossible, and actually become even UGLIER than he was before!” jokes Riley, which draws a smile from King. “Good to see you back in form, Bobby” remarks King, which quickly erases the smile from his face. “Yeah….good to be back…” stammers Riley nervously as he cranes his neck at his monitor, trying to get a good look at the backstage action.

 

Strangler is dead weight as Thoth starts to pull himself up. Strangler manages to roll over onto his back, but can’t get any closer to standing up. Blood is running fairly heavily from Strangler’s mouth and forming a small pool on the floor beside him as Thoth reaches over and starts to yank Strangler up to his feet. Thoth sets himself and uses all the force he can muster to bring TBS to a standing position, but finally manages to get the exhausted Bostonian to his feet. “This is where the Street Fight stipulation is working against the competitors, since Thoth could have easily pinned Strangler for the 1,2,3 right there, Bobby. But Thoth is a few hundred feet from the ring, and I get the feeling they won’t be able to end this match for a good long time.”

 

Thoth puts TBS in a side headlock and throws a fairly weak punch into Strangler’s bloodied face as he starts to walk along through the corridor. A decent number of SWF staffers have gathered to watch the two men fighting, and they cheer loudly, mainly for Strangler, as Thoth leads Strangler through the hall, throwing the occasional punch as he goes. Thoth spies a large metal support beam off to the right side of the hallway, and starts leading Strangler towards it, cursing at the SWF employees to move out of the way as he goes. He reaches the support and releases the headlock in order to grab TBS by the hair. Strangler doesn’t resist at all as Thoth brings Strangler’s head back before smashing it into the support beam. A small ringing noise reverberates through the backstage area, and a second one soon follows as Thoth repeats the move. “I’ve always loved Strangler in C minor” deadpans King before breaking into a chuckle, which is ignored by Bobby Riley.

 

Thoth takes TBS back into the headlock and starts pacing back into the main corridor of the backstage area when he spies an area full of anvil cases and cardboard boxes off to the left. Thoth crosses over, cursing at people once again, and brings Strangler over to a grouping of anvil cases. Thoth smashes Strangler’s head into one of the anvil cases, then drops him into a sitting position against one of the heavy, giant trunks. Thoth then grabs a second anvil case and backs up, keeping his eye on Strangler the entire way. “Jesus Christ….I don’t want Strangler to leave with the belt, but I don’t want this either” says a concerned Bobby Riley. “Bash his brains in, Thoth!” roars King, sharing no such concerns. “End this loser’s career!” Thoth rolls the case backwards so that he has a solid 10 feet between him and Strangler, and then starts to charge forward, pushing the anvil case in front of him. Strangler is starting to stir, but never sees the anvil case coming as it crashes into him head-on. The arena goes quiet, with an isolated “HOLY SHIT!” chant being the only noise coming from the crowd.

 

“Dear god…he might have just killed the Boston Strangler! This is….wow…” says Bobby as he watches the prone and lifeless body between the two anvil cases for any signs of life. Thoth, huffing and puffing, looks down, almost surprised by the damage he’s done. Strangler is bleeding even harder from the mouth, and a small pool of blood seems to be forming underneath the t-shirt he has on. Two members of the medical staff wander over from the crowd of people watching, and approach cautiously, with concern written on their faces. They start to check TBS, but Thoth quickly chases them away, clearing the scene once again. Hebner suggests that Thoth start to head back to the ring, which draws Thoth’s ire. As if to spite Hebner, Thoth reaches down, grabs Strangler, and pulls him to his feet in one fluid motion. “Looks like Thoth found his second wind, Bobby. Not good news for Strangler…although things are about as bad as they get for him anyways right now…” Thoth runs forward and throws Strangler hard into the giant stack of cardboard boxes that are stacked behind the anvil cases. Empty boxes go flying everywhere, and loud THUNK!s echo through the back as filled boxes fall all over the place.

 

“I’ve never seen Strangler beaten like this before….it’s like he’s not even trying right now. He’s down and out for the count here, King. Thoth should just concentrate on getting him back to the ring to end this battle, and walk out of here with the belt.” Thoth just leans up against one of the anvil cases and lets the dust settle from the massive box avalanche. Thoth looks around, trying to figure out where Strangler ended up, before he spies a giant boot sticking out of the boxes. Thoth smiles with an evil satisfaction, and walks forward to dig Strangler out of the boxes. Thoth reaches down and pushes a pair of boxes out of the way, and reveals Strangler’s body. Thoth reaches down, and then notices a metal chain wrapped around TBS’s right hand. Thoth has just enough time to let this register before Strangler sends a punch flying straight for Thoth’s scratched-up, bloody face. The crowd goes nuts as Thoth goes stumbling backwards, trips over a box, and drops onto his ass as Strangler pushes himself up off the ground in a slow, deliberate fashion, with the chain still wrapped around his fist.

 

“He’s alive and kicking! How the HELL is he moving? He should be fucking DEAD by now!” Riley looks over, embarrassed. “King, we’re on live TV…” “FUCK the live TV! I’ll deal with it later! I do run this place, you know!” Riley backs off as King looks forward, fuming as Strangler walks over towards Thoth. Thoth, who has staggered up to his feet, looks up and sees the man whom he held down in the Clan, the man whom he pushed out of the league, standing there with a steel chain wrapped around his already-deadly right fist. Strangler lashes out and decks Thoth with a massive right fist, sending the Clan leader flailing backwards until he brushes up against another support beam. Strangler then throws another right into Thoth’s stomach, which doubles him over in serious pain. Strangler’s face wears an expression of outright rage as he grabs Thoth by the hair and stalks him through the corridor until he finds what he’s looking for: A window to an office amongst the corridor. Strangler takes Thoth by the back of the head, takes one step backwards, and sends Thoth flying forwards straight through the glass window. The crowd goes nuts, and gets yet another “HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT!” chant going as Thoth rolls up against the desk in the middle of the office, with lacerations all over his face and chest.

 

“Hey, King, isn’t that your office?” asks Riley, with a hint of fear in his voice. King looks up and checks his monitor. “Nah, that’s not mine, that’s….aw, SHIT! THAT’S MY OFFICE! THAT OVERGROWN SON OF A BITCH JUST WRECKED MY FUCKING OFFICE!” “King, live TV! You can’t sw…”

King whirls around, turning all his rage on Riley. “I ALREADY FUCKING TOLD YOU! I SWEAR IF I WANNA SWEAR!” King turns back and looks at the glass all over his office floor, not to mention Thoth’s blood that seems to be everywhere. Strangler moves a foot to the left and opens the door to the office (“He couldn’t have done that the FIRST fucking time?!” screams King) to follow Thoth inside. Strangler starts to stomp away at Thoth, screaming at Thoth the entire time, as the Balancer desperately tries to crawl underneath the desk to escape. Strangler sees Thoth’s plan, and cuts him off at the pass by grabbing Thoth by the back of his pants and pulling him out from underneath the desk. Strangler groans as he lifts Thoth off the ground and onto King’s desk, which sends papers and office supplies flying everywhere. “Not the stapler! I worked so hard to keep that Swingline stapler when Lumberg switched us over to Boston staplers!” cries King as Strangler slides Thoth along the length of the desk, and lets Thoth continue flying off the desk and to the floor with a loud thud.

 

“Strangler has come alive here, and he’s avenging the beating Thoth has already laid on him with a truly savage outing right now! I don’t envy Thoth one bit…Tom Flesher, on the other hand….” Riley is cut off by a truly evil look from the Suicide King, and the two men sit in silence as Strangler walks over to Thoth, who is down on the floor, trying to crawl away from TBS on all fours. Strangler uses the opportunity to connect with a big right boot to Thoth’s underside, which flips him over onto his back. Strangler hoists Thoth up off the ground and lifts him back onto the desk on his stomach, readying him for another ride. “Damnit, not AGAIN!” shouts King, but to no avail, as Strangler slides Thoth along the desk and off onto the floor, where he goes crashing down to earth. TBS takes a moment, and looks around at the papers lying nearby on the floor. TBS picks up one and starts to skim it, before throwing it down in disgust. He picks it back up and shreds the piece of paper in two before turning his attention back to Thoth. “I hope that was your pay request, you ungrateful bitch!” yells King, still in an extremely upset mood.

 

Strangler reaches the area where Thoth had fallen off the desk, but Thoth is nowhere to be found. Strangler screams at Hebner, “WHERE IS HE?”, but Hebner shakes his head, as he needs to remain impartial. Strangler lets loose a primal scream of anger and frustration that had been building up, and then starts to tear King’s office apart, looking for Thoth. Strangler whirls and smashes a paperweight against the ground, when he suddenly notices that the door has swung out of the room, and has been left open. Strangler looks down and sees a trail of blood drops leading towards the door. Strangler goes charging forward, but the door goes slamming shut into his face, dropping him down to the ground. Strangler forces himself up, almost running on pure willpower, and swings the door open to the outside. Strangler turns, and walks straight into Thoth’s setup. Thoth swings an object, which the camera doesn’t pick up at first, at Strangler’s head. He connects, and the object shatters. The camera zooms in to show that Thoth drilled Strangler with a full bottle of wine across the face, and the remnants of the bottle fall to the ground.

 

“THAT had to HURT!” cries Riley, who winces in pain. “This is one match that’s actually managed to make me squeamish!” Strangler, covered in a mixture of wine, sweat, and blood, manages to stay on his feet, but Thoth counters with a second bottle to the other side of his skull. This one shatters all over Strangler’s face as well, and Strangler drops to the concrete floor, incapacitated by the blows. “Hey…is that my Chateau Brovlier ’79? GODDAMN! I PAID $400 A BOTTLE FOR THAT WINE!” Riley has to stifle a giggle as King flips out next to him. “THIS IS HORRIBLE! GODDAMN!” “Well, at least the wine injured Strangler, King” offers Riley, looking to pacify King. “Yeah, I suppose that’s good….but GODDAMN! My office, my wine…”

 

Strangler is out cold on the floor, and Thoth is standing there with the necks of two wine bottles in his hands. Thoth looks around, and checks Strangler to make sure he’s really out cold, then staggers off into the shadows of the building. Gus the cameraman goes sprinting off after Thoth, trying to keep an eye on what he’s up to, while medical personnel take the opportunity to examine Strangler and make sure he’s still breathing. As the personnel check on him, Strangler starts to get to his feet, pushing the medical people away. Thoth still hasn’t reappeared, and Strangler is almost to his feet, looking around for his adversary amongst the throng of people. Suddenly, two headlights flash up out of the darkness, and a black Lincoln Town Car comes speeding down the corridor, headed straight for Strangler. TBS sees the car coming, and dives out of the way just in the nick of time, as the car goes barreling by, then screeches to a halt. Strangler looks over as Thoth climbs out of the driver’s seat, swearing under his breath, and screams at Strangler to come after him.

 

“Thoth just tried to run down TBS with a car! That’s two years in a row that Strangler’s had a close call with a car during his street fight! He’s EXTREMELY lucky that Thoth didn’t hit him, or else we’d be handling a Murder 1 case, not a title match.” Strangler looks wearily at Thoth, who seems to have recaptured the fire in his eyes. As Strangler looks over at Thoth, the weariness seems to melt away, and Strangler charges forward, locked straight onto Thoth. The crowd, still watching intently on the SmarkTron, is going nuts as the two men plow into each other. Strangler’s advantage in pure power and size break the tie, and Thoth goes tumbling head over heels backwards, where he lands against the car he had just been driving. Strangler runs forward, ignoring the pain running throughout his entire body, and smashes a running knee straight into Thoth’s face. Thoth’s head shoots back into the car’s side door and leaves a dent in the panel from the force of the blow.

 

“This battle has really intensified! King, how do you think this one is gonna go down?” King looks thoughtful for a moment, and then replies, “Well, I’m not sure, but Thoth’s gonna take it in the end. He’ll steal the momentum back, which he’s proven to be quite adept at doing so far, and end up with the big W in the end, no matter how long it takes.”

 

Strangler picks Thoth up, and swings at him with a big right punch. However, Thoth manages to block the punch, and counters with a big uppercut of his own. Thoth takes advantage of a reeling Strangler, and charges forward with a clothesline, which TBS manages to duck. Strangler and Thoth both whirl around, and Thoth charges Strangler again. This time, Strangler ducks underneath Thoth and delivers a textbook back body drop, which sends Thoth flying straight into the air and onto the hood of the Lincoln. The metal buckles underneath Thoth, who seizes his back and tries to massage the pain away. Meanwhile, TBS climbs up onto the car alongside Thoth. Strangler reaches down, making sure to keep his balance on the slippery metal surface, and hauls Thoth up to his feet. Strangler looks Thoth straight in the eyes, and then slaps his right hand around Thoth’s throat. The Balancer struggles, trying to break free, but Strangler lifts Thoth high into the air. He holds him there for just a moment, then sends Thoth plummeting back downwards. Thoth goes crashing into the car’s windshield, which sends cracks running throughout the length of the glass, and sends the glass sagging underneath his body weight.

 

“STRANGLER JUST CHOKESLAMMED THOTH ONTO THE CAR’S WINDSHIELD! DEAR LORD! THIS MATCH HAS BEEN BRUTAL!” Riley does his best Mark Stevens impression as he shills the match for all it’s worth. “These two men have gone far beyond their limits, Bobby, and one of them has to crack soon. But after they’ve both taken this much punishment, it’s going to be a mental move that ends this match, and I get the feeling that Thoth has a much better chance of being the person to finish this one off the right way.” Strangler looks at Thoth, who is jammed into the windshield, and an idea crosses his mind. Strangler hops off the hood of the car, and quickly moves Thoth’s legs off of the windshield, while leaving his torso on the glass. Strangler then swings the driver’s door open, and hops into the seat (but not before quickly pausing to adjust the seat to give himself some more leg room). “Strangler is going to DRIVE THE CAR with THOTH STILL ON IT? This is a lawsuit just waiting to happen to me!” whines King while the Omaha Civic Center goes nuts for Strangler’s move. Strangler turns the keys in the ignition, and the Lincoln roars to life. Strangler turns the car around, and screams at Hebner to follow along.

 

“It appears that they’re heading back out here, King! Strangler’s gonna try to end this match right now!” King looks less than pleased with the prospect: “Oh, joy.” Strangler revs the engine, then burns out down the corridor. He takes a sharp left, then comes up on a small ramp that heads to the stage. Strangler straightens the car out, and drives it on up the ramp, barely making it through the tight passage space. Finally, the car squeezes through, and Strangler appears on the stage, driving the car with Thoth on the windshield. Strangler stops the car and sticks his head out the windshield as he revels in the applause from the Omaha crowd. Strangler revs the engine again, and starts to move forward, but as he does, Thoth dislodges himself from the car’s windshield, and drops to the stage. Strangler gets halfway down the ramp before he notices that Thoth is gone, and he immediately slams on the brakes. “A small hitch in the plans here for Strangler” mutters a smug King, as he watches Strangler step slowly out of the car, favoring his chest, and start to stagger back up the ramp towards Thoth.

 

Strangler strides up to the top of the ramp and walks over to Thoth, but Thoth shoots out a sweep kick and knocks TBS straight down onto the metal ramp. Strangler rolls onto his side and starts to press himself up to his feet, with Thoth not far behind on the quest to be the first man to his feet. Strangler pushes himself into a standing position, and starts to walk on over towards Thoth, who is still down on one knee. Strangler reaches out for Thoth, but Thoth springs up and quickly grabs Strangler by the neck before tripping Strangler’s leg out from under him. Thoth goes falling backwards and pulls Strangler forwards with him as Thoth hits the Downward Spiral on Strangler. Strangler bounces face-first off the steel, leaving a bloody smear, and rolls off to the side closest to the stage as Thoth, still stunned from his wild ride, looks over at Strangler with a vengeful look. “Thoth just took all the momentum right back, and now Strangler’s really in for it” remarks King, who smiles for the first time since his office was destroyed.

 

Thoth starts to pull himself up to a standing position, and looks around the arena, which is buzzing from the excitement of the match. Thoth himself seems unsure of the way that this match is going to go next until he spies one of the metal support beams holding up the SmarkTron. Strangler is still totally knocked out, and Thoth examines him briefly before heading to the metal beam. Thoth puts his right foot into one of the lattice supports, and starts to haul himself upwards, slowly climbing the structure. The crowd is incredulous, as a “PLEASE DON’T DIE! PLEASE DON’T DIE!” chant starts to radiate throughout the massive arena. “What the hell do you think Thoth has planned here, Riley?” stammers a suddenly VERY nervous SWF Commish. “It’s simple, King. Thoth used his brains, and remembered that Erek Taylor beat Strangler last year in this matchup by diving off the SmarkTron. Looks like Thoth thinks that imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.”

 

Thoth stops about 9 feet above the ground, and starts to turn himself around as the crowd goes nuts. Thoth looks confused for a moment, then sees TBS back on his feet, and standing right in front of him. Thoth panics, and jumps into the air, trying to knock Strangler down once again, but Strangler catches him up on his shoulders in a sitting position. Thoth’s eyes go wide in panic as he starts flailing away, throwing punch after punch after punch into the blood-stained sides of Strangler’s head, but the champion seems to be in a place where he can’t feel the pain. Strangler turns around 180 degrees and faces the ring, as well as the end of the stage. “What the hell is Strangler gonna do here?” asks Riley, with a hint of trepidation in his voice. Strangler, still ignoring the frantic blows from Thoth, sets himself, then starts to sprint forward as best he can in his fatigued condition, still holding Thoth in the sitting position on his shoulders. “Oh, CRAP!” exclaims King as he watches on in horror. Thoth’s face goes blank as Strangler reaches the end of the stage, and sends Thoth flying off the end of the stage.

[Guest Suicide King]

“Oh…my….god…” stutters Riley, in shock, as the rest of the arena has the loudest “HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT!” chant of the night going. Strangler has collapsed on the top of the stage as the exhaustion and brutality finally takes its toll. Mark Hebner is the only one left standing, and he quickly checks with Strangler before sprinting down the ramp. Hebner reaches the bottom and turns back, running as fast as he can to find Thoth. Strangler is starting to crawl around on the stage up top, but is still a LONG way from getting Thoth back into the ring. Thoth is being attended to by Hebner, while replays of the extreme move are shown again and again on the SmarkTron. “King, have you ever seen something like that in your life?” asks Riley, still stupefied from the move. “Bobby, for once, Strangler has impressed me. But unfortunately, he’s just as dead, he needs to get Thoth to the ring to end it, and I get the feeling that it’ll be a LONG time until Strangler’s got the energy to try doing something like that.”

 

Thoth still hasn’t move as Strangler crawls his way towards the entrance ramp, still on all fours. Strangler reaches the top of the ramp, and tries to push himself up to his feet, but ends up falling back onto his chest, too drained to get back up. Strangler looks around, and then tucks his arms and legs towards his body before leaning forward towards the ramp. Strangler catches the downslope, and starts to roll down the ramp, picking up speed as he goes. Strangler starts to lean to the right, and ends up veering off the edge of the stage. Strangler only takes a fall of two or three feet, but crashes hard to the concrete floor. “Good move by Strangler. He’s made up a good deal of the distance to get to Thoth, which only makes things easier for him.” King scoffs at the notion. “Riley, you’re missing the point. Strangler won the battle, but he can’t possibly win the war. How can Strangler, who couldn’t stand up, drag a 250 pound man back into the ring to get a pinfall? It’s impossible!”

 

“I gotta say, King, you make a good point. Strangler’s down and out in a bad way right now, and Thoth has some time to recover. He might be able to keep going, even after taking a move like that.” Strangler has started to push himself up again, and grabs ahold of the side of the stage, using it for support. Strangler strains with all the might he has left in his massive frame, and feeds off the “T-B-S! T-B-S! T-B-S!” chant that has broken out in the arena. Strangler pushes up and manages to get back on his feet, albeit with the help of the entrance ramp. He starts to stagger over to Thoth, keeping his grip on the ever-rising entrance ramp. Thoth is still totally motionless, but Hebner seems to be satisfied that Thoth isn’t dead, as he waves off the EMT’s that are waiting in the wings. “Damn…Thoth hasn’t moved in a solid 90 seconds…Strangler may have ended this one for good, King. Hell, Thoth’s career might be over with this one.”

 

“Shut up, Bobby. The match hasn’t ended, Strangler STILL has no way of moving Thoth, and you’re talking about ended careers. We’ll see if Strangler can pull something out of his ass here, but I doubt it.” Strangler finally has to release his grip on the entrance ramp, which has gotten too high for him, and he manages to wobble the final few feet over to Thoth, who is still lying flat-out on his back, totally still. Strangler reaches down and grabs ahold of Thoth’s arm, and starts to pull on Thoth. “Is he trying to pick him up, or just drag him?” asks Riley. “It doesn’t matter, Riley! He can’t do either! Thoth is barely even budging!” Sure enough, Strangler has only managed to move Thoth two feet or so. Strangler looks back at the ring, still filled with weapons from earlier, with longing eyes before turning his eyes back to the 245-pound dead weight keeping him from retaining his title.

 

“Whatcha gonna do, Strangler? Whatcha gonna do?” mocks King as Strangler looks totally lost for a solution. He grabs ahold of Thoth’s forearm, and starts to pull the immobile Thoth towards the ring when the area around the two men, then the entire arena, explodes into cheers. “That son of a bitch…” growls King as Taylor Nicholas Thompson comes jogging out from the backstage area. He has a heavily bandaged cheek from his earlier match with Danny Williams, as well as a slight limp, but is still moving towards Strangler. Strangler looks up and sees his tag team partner approaching Thoth. Strangler can only gasp, “Thank you”, as TNT reaches down and pulls Thoth up to a standing position. He drapes Thoth’s right arm around his shoulders, and Strangler does the same with Thoth’s left arm. The two men start to walk towards the ring, dragging Thoth along behind them, as the crowd is going nuts for the surprise run-in.

 

“I swear, I’ve never wanted to fire TNT more…” mutters King through clenched teeth as the two men reach the ring once again. Thompson leans up and groans slightly as he pushes Thoth underneath the bottom rope. TNT pats Strangler on the shoulder, then goes walking back away to a big round of respectful applause. Strangler manages to slide into the ring as well, wheezing and groaning the entire way. Strangler pushes Thoth towards the middle of the ring, and then hooks the leg for the cover as Hebner drops down, looking happy to end this match. “What a match! Strangler to make it official!” cries Bobby as Hebner, along with 15,000 screaming Strangler fans, starts to count along.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THREEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

 

 

 

“NO! NO! THOTH GOT A SHOULDER UP! HE’S ALIVE!” The crowd is just as stunned as Riley, as they look on incredulously at Thoth’s right arm pointing straight up in the air. Strangler looks at Hebner, with a sad, pathetic look on his face, and almost breaks into tears as he looks over at Thoth, who has rolled over onto his stomach. King seems to have the only elated face in the arena, as he cries, “Thoth is still alive! This match will never end! Strangler can’t win! He just can’t!” Strangler smashes his hand against the canvas again and again and again, still in disbelief that the match has to continue. Finally, Strangler rolls out of the ring and goes to the outside, around the ring. Strangler bends down, and starts digging around underneath the ring, looking for even more toys to add to the extensive collection already in the ring. “What more can Strangler want, King? He’s already got everything but the kitchen sink in the ring already!”

 

Strangler digs around the bottom some more, then starts to drag two tables, stacked on top of each other, out of the storage area. “THAT’S what, Bobby” yells King over the roar of the crowds, who are thrilled to see Strangler upping the stakes in the match. Strangler takes the top table, and lifts it up as high as he can before sliding it into the ring. Strangler then grabs the other table, and slips it into the ring as well before he slides himself back in. Strangler gets to his feet, still obviously weak from the beating he’s taken, but he ignores the pain as he brushes hair and blood out of his eyes. Strangler grabs the first table, and starts to set it up near one of the corners. “What do you think Strangler wants to do, King?” asks Riley. “Well, Strangler’s not all that bright, so I’m guessing he’s running on his instincts, which are along the lines of ‘THOTH GO SQUISH NOW!’”

 

King’s instincts seem pretty accurate as Strangler grabs the other table and sets it up in the middle of the ring. Strangler admires his handiwork in the middle of the ring, then grabs Thoth, who is halfway to his feet. Strangler brusquely grabs Thoth and applies a front facelock. Strangler quickly whirls around and drops Thoth to the ground as he elbows him in the back of the head. “Strangler just hit the Lobotomy, and right now, he’s got Thoth on the ropes. This one could be over soon…but Strangler’s probably gonna find a way to blow it again. It IS Strangler…” murmurs Riley to himself. Strangler rolls over and slowly moves to his feet, using the table in the middle of the ring to support himself. Strangler grabs Thoth by the forearm and starts to get to his feet at the same time. Strangler stands up weakly and pulls Thoth forward before laying him onto the table laid out in the corner. Thoth sinks down and drops onto the table, still totally incapacitated. Meanwhile, Strangler starts to head for the corner himself. He climbs out underneath the ring ropes onto the ring apron on the outside. Strangler supports himself on the ropes and walks along the apron to the corner, and starts to slowly, cautiously, scale the turnbuckles.

 

“Jesus Christ, Strangler might be the dumbest man in this entire state, and that’s saying a lot in Nebraska! He’s an exhausted power brawler, so he decides to go for an all-or-nothing flying move off the top. BRILLIANT! What a friggin’ idiot!” Strangler slowly reaches the top turnbuckle, and perches himself on top, looking down at Thoth, laid out on the table. “Whatever happens here, King, I don’t like that table’s chances…” Riley stops talking as Strangler abruptly straightens up and goes flying through the air towards the outstretched, lifeless body of Thoth. Strangler extends his leg and leans out, looking to hit the big leg drop. Gravity takes effect, and Strangler plummets downwards. At the last minute, Thoth rolls off the table, and Strangler goes crashing through the table. The crowd is silenced as Strangler lies in the middle of the splintered wood and bent table frame, while Thoth rolls on his side to where he faces Strangler. “Told ya, Bobby. Strangler screwed it up, and now he’s gone and lost the match. Time for Thoth to put Strangler out of his misery.”

 

Thoth crawls toward Strangler on his stomach as he puts one hand in front of the other, doing his best to reach the incapacitated, and motionless, Strangler. Thoth finally drags his beaten and battered body over to Strangler, and drapes his arm over Strangler’s chest for the pinfall. “This could be it, Bobby! Thoth’s got it won!” King’s cheers are heard throughout the entire arena as the rest of the arena is silent, hoping against hope that Strangler can hold out for just a little bit longer. Hebner drops into position and begins the count, with the slap of his hand against the canvas echoing through the building.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

”Here we go, Bobby! It’s over!”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THREEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“NO! NO! Strangler kicked out! The match continues!” King curses underneath his breath as the fans erupt in cheers, ecstatic that Strangler is still somehow going. Thoth punches Strangler as hard as he can in the face, letting out the frustration from the near-pinfall. Thoth looks to pick up Strangler, but then he drops Strangler’s forearm and instead heads for a corner. Thoth starts to scale the ropes, just like Strangler before him, as the fans start to buzz yet again, wondering how much longer this match can go on. Thoth manages to get to the top rope, and perches up on top, with his back facing the ring. Strangler has started to pull himself up out of the splintered wood lying throughout the ring, and to his feet. “Looks like Thoth is gonna end this one once and for all right now, King. Thoth’s set up for the Scum Gale, and now he just needs Strangler to get to his feet to end it for good.” Strangler is pushing himself up, with the arena at a fevered pitch. Strangler finally staggers up to his feet, looking exhausted, and starts to stumble around. Thoth looks behind him, and sees Strangler with his back to him. The cruel, sadistic smile creeps over Thoth’s face, and he straightens up, readying himself for the move.

 

“Here we go, Riley! The end of Strangler’s mistake of a title reign! It makes it even easier to erase from the record books!” Thoth readies himself, then launches himself through the air. Thoth goes flipping and reaches down to grab Strangler’s head, with the grin still on his face. Suddenly, the grin disappears as Thoth collides in midair with a steel chair shot to the head. Strangler managed to grab ahold of the steel chair lying in the middle of the ring, and threw it up into Thoth’s head at the last moment. Thoth goes crumpling to the mat in a heap, then tries to start getting to his feet, with the fighting spirit still going through his veins. Meanwhile, Strangler has gotten up, and waves at Thoth, daring him to come closer. Thoth trips up to his feet, getting up a little too quickly for his own good, as he walks right into Strangler. Strangler hoists Thoth up into the air into a gorilla press, which brings the crowds into hysterics. “I don’t like the looks of this one, King…” King remains silent as Strangler takes a step forward, then sees the table still standing in the middle of the ring. Strangler turns to his left, and then drops Thoth onto his shoulders as he drops towards the table. Strangler’s shoulder connects with the table, followed immediately by the top of Thoth’s skull. Thoth goes driving through the table, which breaks in half down the middle, and then bounces off to the side, a few feet away from Strangler. “Massacre! Boston Massacre! King, this thing is OVER! No one’s ever kicked out of the Massacre!”

 

Strangler starts to crawl over the broken table towards Thoth, who is lying, motionless, on the other side of the ring. Strangler grows nearer and nearer to Thoth, and finally presses his body over Thoth’s chest. Hebner drops down to the canvas as Strangler leans over and hooks Thoth’s leg for the pinfall. “It’s time for this one to end for good, King!”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THREEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

DING DING DING!!!

 

 

 

”It’s over! It’s over! The match has FINALLY ended after both men have bled like crazy, sweated like madmen, and given absolutely everything they had to give! This is one of the greatest matches I’ve ever had the honor of watching!” King seems less appreciative of the match: “How can it be a great match? That talentless waste of oxygen won the match! He’s still champion! Damn!” “Godzilla” kicks up over the speaker system, but the song is barely heard over the cheers of the Omaha fans. Strangler feels his hand being yanked up into the air by Mark Hebner while Strangler still lies on the ground, bleeding like crazy. Thoth’s entire body is covered in small cuts, most of which are bleeding, as he lies on the ground, not truly aware of the result of the match.

 

“Can you believe this night, King? Jesus Christ….we had a stacked card, new debuts, a retirement, renewals of old rivalries, injuries, a huge street fight…and some minor personnel changes as well. I don’t know if we’ve ever had this much excitement at a PPV before.” King looks over at Riley, a smile returning to his face. “There were a few…unfortunate setbacks…tonight, but overall, it was a very satisfying night for me, and I’m sure it was for all our fans across the globe as well.” Strangler is up and standing now, with the SWF Championship belt clutched tightly in his bloodied hands. He climbs onto the second rope and holds the belt aloft, posing with the strap he worked so hard to earn. The fans are still giving Strangler a standing ovation, cheering on as Strangler kisses the SWF Title, leaving a pair of bloody lip marks on the SWF marquee.

 

“Well folks, our time has come and gone. Thank you VERY much for joining us here tonight. Alongside Bobby Riley, I’m your SWF Commissioner, the Suicide King. Thanks for joining us, and tune in Friday night for SWF Storm to catch all the backlash from Ground Zero! Goodnight once again, folks!”

 

The camera pans to a shot of Strangler in the background, still celebrating his title win, with a blurry shot of Thoth, covered in red, lying on the ground, still motionless. Finally, the screen slowly fades to black, and a shot of the SWF logo.

[Guest Suicide King]

Genesis IV, September 28th, 2003

 

An event so spectacular ...

 

 

It happens only once a year ...

 

 

A time where heroes come to life ...

 

 

And where legends are immortalized ...

 

 

The biggest show of the year ...

 

 

Witness the rebirth ...

 

 

***

 

 

... G ...

 

 

 

 

 

... E ...

 

 

 

 

 

... N ...

 

 

 

 

 

... E ...

 

 

 

 

 

... S ...

 

 

 

 

 

... I ...

 

 

 

 

 

... S ...

 

 

 

 

 

... IV ...

 

 

 

 

 

***

 

 

 

September 28th, 2003.

[Guest Suicide King]

To say that I am disappointed with this PPV would be an understatement. To say that I am angry at the no-shows is insufficient.

 

With all of the no-shows and the rash of retirement and time off notes I have just received, I am mentally incapable of making a card that does not consist entirely of humiliation matches. I will post the show card tomorrow, maybe. Or I may just quit and let Edwin do it.