SWF Lockdown for August 20th

[Kaertos 0]

*BANG!*

 

*BANG!*

 

*CLICK-CLANG-LOCK!*

 

*BOOMBOOMBOOMBOOMBOOMBOOMBOOM!*

 

*BOOOOOOOOOM!*

 

Panning around the glorious Kingdome in Fargo, North Dakota, the camera takes note of the many energized spectators in attendance, passing over all kinds of signs, foam objects and female... exhibitionists, let’s say. Slowing down to the Lockdown theme music, we zoom in on several sections of the arena while Cyclone comet and Bobby Riley introduce the program.

 

“We welcome you to another edition of SWF Lockdown, coming to you LIVE from the brand new Kingdome in Fargo! Built by the Suicide King himself, it plays host to the start of a 24-man, double elimination World Title Contendership tournament, the winner of which will go on to Genesis IV and face the World Champion!” announces Riley.

 

“Twelve – yes, twelve whole matches are on tap for tonight as we kick off this tourney, even giving some Junior Leaguers a chance to win it all. They’ll have to face some tough competition though, if they want to prove themselves here in the big leagues.” Comet notes as the Lockdown theme dies down.

 

“But first, we’ve been told to expect an important message from somebody who’s long overdue his two cents. All signs point to it being the one man that gave us the biggest surprise in quite a while here in the SWF” says Bobby Riley, just before the lights dim...

 

 

!*BOOM*!

 

To the anxious murmurs of an excited crowd, a sudden gunshot fires, breaking the generally calm aura. Instantly, the heavy guitar riffs of Metallica's "No Leaf Clover" hammer through the Kingdome, taking the most nostalgic of fans back to the good old days of the IGNWF. Walking out to an elaborate display of lights, centered on the ramp and stage, Spike emerges from behind the curtain, receiving the cheers that he's missed hearing ever so much. As he begins walking down the ramp, Funyon introduces him to the spectators.

 

"Making his way to the ring, hailing from Brooklyn, New York, weighing in at 240 pounds... please welcome back... SPIKE!"

 

As he reaches the ring, the camera caches a display of laser lights on the surface of the ring, displaying the outline of Atlas, the figure of Greek mythology, holding a globe. Then, in the kind of animation that laser projection provides, Atlas takes the globe, tosses it in the air, and with a Spiked dagger produced from his waist, punctures the planet, breaking through it surface, inner mass, and core, pulverizing it to pieces. It's at this moment that Spike enters the ring, standing over the laser projected image.

 

 

“For six months, we’re known him only as Sean Atlas – a man without a face, a vague past and tons of skill. He’s dropped the charade, taken the mask off, revealing himself as someone who isn’t as unfamiliar as we thought.” Comet states. “What will he have to say to us now? Why did he wear the mask, and why did he choose this time to take it off?”

 

“He better have the answers, Cyclone.” Riley replies, somewhat peeved. “A lot of people were fooled by him, and being dishonest like he was is not the best thing to do in the SWF.”

 

 

Walking across the ring to receive a microphone form Funyon, Spike waits for the music to quiet down, for the lights to come back to normal, and for the fans to sit down and stop cheering. That last one takes a little longer as the crowd’s missed seeing Spike, cheering for him and rotting for him in IGN/SWF rings. He looks different, his hair much longer than the clean cut he used to have. But it doesn’t look too foreign, since it’s been the look of Sean Atlas for months. As they take their seats and come to a lower level of volume, Spike starts explaining himself.

 

“Ever since last Friday, I’ve been getting mixed reactions from everybody. The boys in the back were glad to see me again, for the most part. Some of them had a bit of animosity though, upset over being deceived. Then the fans, the few who recognized me on the street, at the airport... they were thrilled; overjoyed, to see me. But there were the select few here and there that had nothing but negative things to say to me.

 

It’s primarily at those fans and those guys in the locker room that I direct my words to tonight. You all ask, why did I go through the Junior League? Why did I wear the mask? Why would a former World Champion take such a route to get back to the top? Allow me to explain exactly why.

 

Most of you don’t remember my career, but to make a long story short, it was a very unusual run. Stating off in the Hardcore division, I was thrust into the World Title scene way before I was ready to go. Winning in an absolute shocker, I was suddenly the World Champion, and if you’ve ever had a power trip like that, you’d know just how you ego balloons when it happens.

 

But from that day forward, it was all downhill. Losing the title back to Rane only two months later, I never had another shot, and sank all the way to the Light Heavyweight Division. My last official match, a triple threat against Divefire and Suicide, ended in injury. I hit rock bottom and that was that.

 

Poor choices in my endeavors, such as the IGNWO and my run as a commissioner left me hungry for worth, but attaining none. Fading into obscurity all too quickly, I was forced away from the public eye of the expanding IGNWF. As the company changed its name and identity, I was compelled to do the same.”

 

 

“Wow...” Riley quips. “Spike seems more loony than you are, Comet”

 

“You underestimate me.”

 

 

Spike continues. “For the past six months, I’ve been introduced as hailing from Chicago, Illinois. Now, that’s not where I’m from, but it’s not entirely untrue either. You see, a casual stroll through the insane asylum.., shows that faith does not prove anything. Take a look at a clip that first aired during my SJL run.”

 

 

The Smarktron displays the said footage...

 

-----=====-----

 

Fading in on the constantly moving view of a road, we're given an inside-the-car persective of Route I-90, headed for Chicago. As the camera zooms back, all we see on the steering wheel are two hands, carelessly controlling the car as the speedometer behind it borders on the eighties. As the view pans around the interior, parts of the SJL World Championship peek out of a gym bag placed in the passenger seat.

 

The dim glow of daylight reflects off its gold surface as the car steers down an exit ramp and quickly turns down a narrow road, passing right by a sign...

 

 

CHICAGO STATE HOSPITAL

A Cook County Insitution Facility

Est. 1912

 

 

Pulling up next between two vans, the driver stops the car and shuts off its engine. Stepping out, he surveys the scene: A gray building, no more than three stories above ground, surrounded by two chain link fences, the outer laced with barbed wire, the inner likely electrified. Walking parallel to the outer fence, Sean (whose face is never shown) begins to remember his time spent in the facility...

 

"Fourteen months in this shithole... fourteen fucking months. Why did he commit himself here? it couldn't have been the injury, he was fine after that... But he fell out of view too soon... people forgot and it drove him out of mind... But why here? Why Chicago? If he got out after just over a year, was he really that fucked up to begin with? He had to be. To spew out the kinds of thoughts he was spewing... The people he was quoting... Can't even get them out of my mind...

 

He could have come back and been stronger than ever, allow people to see him for who he is... But no. 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...

 

It'll be over then. The hiding, the whole masquerade. Then, he'll be back. Fresh out of hiding, out of the hole he's been trapped in for years. Set loose on new challengers, on new opponents... Yeah, he'll be back. Mightier than before, more powerful than before... And they don't even know he's coming..."

 

The camera zooms out, fading the scene to black as it pans away.

 

http://forums.thesmartmarks.com/index.php?...ST&f=26&t=30822

 

-----=====-----

 

Returning to the Kingdome, the sound of several thousand spectators thinking “Oohhhh” dominates the mood. Riley and Comet look at each other in understanding while Sean continues with his speech.

 

 

“So you see, even though I’m from New York, Sean Atlas WAS born in Chicago. That identity did not exist before then, and the same can be said for the tattoo my shoulder bears. Finally able to answer the months of speculation as to what it means, I can tell you now that “MS” would be my initials... my original initials. Michael Sean Spaster, my former full name...”

 

 

“That’s right!” exclaims Riley. “He went by that originally. I remember now!”

 

 

Spike goes on. “So as soon as I left Chicago, I got in touch with Mark Stevens, then-Director of Talent Relations, about a tryout. Two weeks at the now-closed Bases Loaded facility left him with no doubts about my skill level, and I quickly came to the Junior League. The rest, as they say is history.” Sean finishes, shrugging graciously.

 

 

“Well, that certainly explains everything...” Riley quips.

 

“No it doesn’t! There’s so many questions still up in the air. Why did he join the Magnificent Seven? How come he chose the Atheist persona? And why did-”

 

 

"ALL ABOARD!! AH HAH HAH HAH!!"

 

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, posing cockily as the crowds pours their derision on him. 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, receiving a mic from one of his brown-nosing employees at ringside.

 

 

“What in the world is the Suicide King doing here?” Comet asks.

 

“I hope he came to clear up some questions and set Spike straight.”

 

“I don’t feel good about this, Bobby...”

 

 

Strolling around the ring like he owns the place, which he does indeed, King looks Spike up and down as his music dies down, overshadowed by the crowd’s scornful jeers. Making several revolutions around the man he knew only as Sean Atlas for months, King brings the microphone to his mouth, prepared to give Spike a piece of his mind.

 

 

“Spike, let me be the first to welcome you back to the Federation, here inside the wonderful Kingdome.” He says as the fans boo the obvious pompousness. “We’re all glad to have you back here, after such a long hiatus. A former World Champion, such as yourself, is always a joy to see return. But Sean... I mean, Spike... your approach to coming back was quite... unique, don’t you think?

 

I mean, think about it. You put in so much time and effort into the Junior League when you were there. Then we brought you up here, and again, you exerted yourself to such a high degree. And you have so much to show for it, Sean. All those belts you’ve acquired... which ones were they, again?”

 

“I didn’t wi-“

 

“That’s right, you didn’t. Not one belt around your waist, Spike. Not since you lost the World Title two and a half years ago have you held SWF gold! Winning will only take you so far, Sean, but when you throw away title shots by losing to Craven, Kibagami and Thoth, what does that say? When Annie, a WOMAN, can win a handful of belts when wearing a mask and you can’t, what does it say about your entire charade?

 

It says, Spike, that you failed.

 

You return to glory came up short, man. It’s like your entire career, all one big backward mess. You were great in the Junior League, steamrolling over rookies with no talent, but when it came to play with the big boys, you failed. Sure, you and Annie pulled off quite the shocker last week, but we know you’re good at that. Your whole career is based on shock value... beating Rane for the title? Huge bombshell. But what happened then? The win and title reign made no money, and other than the worst Main event in IGNWF PPV history, the first defense against Angel, you were completely unsuccessful.

 

That’s what comes with surprises, Spike. No revenue, no profit, and no real gain for anybody. You and Annie skipped out on Ground Zero last Sunday... do you know how much that stunt cost me?! I promoted that match, and you two staying home forced me to give it away on free TV! Shit, the least you could have done is told me who the hell you were! I’d have given you so much more leeway, you little prick! You’d at least have a better chance to succeed around here!”

 

Spike fires back, “How hard was it to figure out?! Christ, you had my medical records; all you had to do was cross reference them! Even without those, people could’ve figured it out! Think about it: My first loss came to Spike Jenkins, a guy that everybody knew I could beat, but for one reason or another didn’t. You think I joined M7 because I fit in? Bullshit! Chris Wilson started the damn group, wouldn’t you think that influenced my decision? Every time we came to New York, I had a strange attachment to the place...

 

And on top of it all, I came in during the last days of January... just a month after you overthrew Stubby. I could never work for him, and I thought you would be different, but apparently not. Why you didn’t look into it when I destroyed the JL Is beyond m-“

 

“You think I have time to look into every rookie that comes in here?!?”

 

“Don’t interrupt me, Brian, not tonigh-”

 

“Why shouldn’t I? I did it last week. When your music hit and cut you off, who do you think hit the button, Spike? You really think people are happy to see you back here, strutting around like you’re the shit all of a sudden? Nobody wants you here, especially the guy running the show. I didn’t forget, Spike. The months of IGNWO/Midnight Carnival battles left a good impression on me. Remember this little piece from a couple of years ago?”

 

Cue Smarktron...

 

-----=====-----

 

 

::thud::

 

...

 

::thud::

 

The view fades in, with Spike sitting in the chair, throwing darts at some targets. He lets his last one fly...

 

::thud::

 

Spike laughs as he stands up and walks towards the wall. The camera turns, noticing a midnight carnival poster on the wall. Spike comes closer and removes a dart from each member's head. He places the darts on a nearby stool, and opens the poster book again. Spike rips out individual posters of Spark, Chris Raynor, King of Hearts, Mark Stevens, Edwin MacPhisto, and Sekhmet. He pins each one against the wall and walks back to his chair with the darts.

 

::thud:: Raynor's hit in the neck.

 

::thud:: Sekhmet gets one right near the shoulder.

 

::thud:: Edwin gets one in the cheek.

 

::thud:: Spark gets hit in the eye.

 

::thud:: Mark Stevens gets a dart square in the chest.

 

::thud:: The last dart hits King of Hearts in his mouth.

 

Spike: Damn. Could have done better...

 

 

http://boards.ign.com/message.asp?topic=9355197

 

-----=====------

 

 

“Yeah Spike, we go back a little bit, don’t we?”

 

Taken off guard, Spike needs a moment to regroup before firing back... “What I remember from two years ago is that I was the commissioner in charge of the company, the man you fired, Mark Stevens was the World Champion, and two years ago to the day you fired him, he caused Bobby Riley the main event.

 

Two years ago to the day, our current World Champion won his very first belt - the IGNJL Television title. Annie wasn't even in the league yet. You were just the King of Hearts at the time... What were you doing at the time, Brian? I recall a LHW title match between you, Mayor McCheese and Chris Storm. Jesus, even Riley and Stevens were above you then. But no, you were competing for a title that doesn't even exist anymore! And how did that match go, Brian? Didn’t you lose to the one and only Mayor McCheese... The same McCheese that I beat in the first three matches of my career?”

 

 

“That’s enough, Spike...”

 

 

“No, it’s not. Let’ see what I was doing back then. Around two years ago... wasn’t there an awards show? Oh yeah, there was. And did I win anything? I think so, Brian. Remember that match were I beat Rane to win the Title? That won TV Match of the Year! Triple Cage Stables match? We lost that one and the match STILL won PPV Match of the Year! You want to alk about two years ago, le’ts talk about it, Brian!”

 

 

“ENOUGH!!!” yells King, inciting an uproar from the crowd. “Fine, Spike. Have it your way. You want a hard time, no problem. I was hoping I’d get a chance to even things out. Yeah, Spike. Two years ago, you were really buddy-buddy with the administration, weren’t you? Close to the one guy that had power at the time. Well, it’s that time again, Spike. Power is back in the hands of one man, but it’s not same guy whose ass you were living in back then.”

 

King continues as he slowly steps out of the ring, not taking his eyes off Spike as he casually walks away. ‘No, Spike, Mighty King of the Bombshell Shocker - King of BS. You want to play with the King of Hearts? You want to test me? Fine. Neilsen, the last person to try it, is nowhere in sight, and as luck would have it, he’s somebody that you never beat either.

 

So you want to throw shit in my face? Gamble with the Heatbreaker? Commit career suicide? Fine. I’ll be glad to help, Spike. That, you can bet on... That’s what the Suicide King is here for.”

 

Spike tries to fire back, but the voice of Ozzy Osbourne interrupts.

 

 

"ALL ABOARD!! AH HAH HAH HAHHH!!"

 

As Spike realizes his microphone has once again been taken out of commission, he rears it back and hurls it toward the Gambling Man, forcing him to duck out of the way to avoid the flying object. King backtracks up the ramp, laughing all the way as his music plays him out, the fans jeering heavily, some spitting at King and at the floor of the Kingdome.

 

Spike remains inside the squared circle, glaring back at the King of Hearts. The fire in his eyes is akin to that which he had all those years ago as Champion, in his relative prime, when the passion was still there. King’s words seem to have brought it back to the foreground, igniting the blood running through his veins, often seeping out in the heat of battle. The drive is back, and even the mighty Suicide King will have to pull off a miracle to stop it.

[Kaertos 0]

SWF Lockdown rolls back into Fargo, North Dakota, and boy, are these fans ever excited! Scanning the arena, several signs are visible, and many fans carry with them the Johnny Rotten t-shirts that were tonight’s fore-mentioned free giveaway. Hell, most of them probably wonder “Who’s Johnny Rotten?”. We then turn our attention to the SWF announcing team, who are ready for the action to begin!

 

Riley: Welcome back to SWF Lockdown! We’re live in the majestic and beautiful Kingdome, built by our favorite commissioner, Suicide King! I’m Bobby Riley, joined by my “colleague”-

 

Comet: CYCLOOOOOOOOOOONE COMET!

 

Riley: God! Do you have to do that every time?!?!

 

Comet: But it’s my superheroic entrance-

 

Riley: No one gives a crap, Space Boy. They came for wrestling, not your stupid antics.

 

Comet: What about those citizens over there with the humungous “CYCLOOOOOOOOONE COMET!” sign?

 

Comet points up to a group of 22 people off to the left side of Riley, each holding up a letter, space, or exclamation point as they stand in the upper part of the lower bowl.

 

Riley: Well, we’ll have to get security on that ASAP, but next, we’ve got our first match in the Genesis IV #1 Contendership Tournament, with Michael Craven going up against a mystery opponent! But who is the mystery person? Could it be a friend like Chris Raynor? Former inspiration Edwin MacPhisto? Or some jobber like Cutthorat?

 

Comet: Perhaps it's none of the above, queer questioner.

 

Riley: ... It had better not be YOU.

 

The lights cut out, the crowd going silent for a second. Suddenly, strobe lights pulse to the beat of the guitar and drums in the background as Saliva’s “King of My World” kicks in, the crowd beginning to boo as they realize who it is. As the first words kick in, the strobes cut out, a pale blue light covering the arena, illuminating the figure of Michael Craven as he walks out onto the stage, no expression visible on his shadowed face. Continuing his walk down to the ring, he turns around at the top of the ramp, walking backwards as he stretches his arms out wide, soaking in the crowd’s jeers. Halfway down the ramp, though, he abruptly spins back around, swinging his right arm in a straight path across the top of the stage.

 

 

“BOOM!”

 

 

A huge blast of bright white pyro kicks up, the smoke lingering on stage for quite some time as Craven finishes the spin, continuing his walk to ringside without interruption.

 

Funyon: The following Genesis IV Tournament match is scheduled for one-fall! Introducing first, from Tampa, Florida, weighing in at 280 pounds... ladies and gentlemen, The King Of Nightmares... MICHAEL CRAVENNNNN!!!

 

Comet: Citizen Craven does not seem to be too welcome by these fan’s standards, as well as my superhero ones!

 

Riley: I like the new entrance, though. Not too flashy, and much shorter. Definitely a fan pleaser!

 

Comet: For the few fans he has, admirous associate in announcing!

 

Entering casually through the middle and top ropes, Craven quickly scales the turnbuckle closest to him, opening his arms wide and soaking in the crowd’s response, a chorus of heavy boos, as a white spotlight shines down upon him, casting shadows across his face. Mike then hops off the turnbuckle and repeats it, staring back at the entryway before he hops down and begins warming up in the corner, but suddenly, an old familiar tune, “Wait and Bleed” by Slipknot, begins to play, cutting the lights, but before he can react in any form...

 

 

 

“BOOM!!!!”

 

 

 

White pyro explodes everywhere, a way of showing any sort of true plague being over for good, along with traces of random red shots fired off. Finally, a spotlight shines down on the stage, and the mystery man exposes himself to the world, revealing his identity as none other than...

 

Riley: NO!!! IT’S NOT!!! TELL ME IT’S NOT-

 

Comet: HOLY BLASTS FROM THE PASTS, RILEY! IT’S INSANE LUUUUUUCHADOR!!!! Craven’s long time arch-nemesis is the mystery man!

 

Craven looks a little shocked as IL stands at the top of the ramp, absorbing the cheers before he sprints down the aisle towards the ring, trying to slap as many hands as possible. Craven scrunches his eyelids shut and shakes his head, opening them back up as he double-checks to make sure that it’s really Luchador as IL slides into the ring under the bottom rope and pops up onto his feet, the crowd cheering loudly as IL cuts off Funyon’s ring exit, grabbing the microphone out of his hands.

 

IL: Yo, Ash, long time, no see, huh? Now I was thinkin’: I'm naturally hardcore, you're apparently 'hardcore', we did hardcore best in the ML... so why not change up the rules and make this a hardcore match?!?!

 

IL flips the mic over into Craven’s hands, The King of Nightmares plucking it out of the air in one quick swoop and bringing it up to his lips.

 

Craven: You want to fight me in a hardcore match? You really sure want that?

 

IL nods in response. Craven stops, turning his head down to think, but suddenly, he smirks, chuckling as he brings it back up and answers the challenge.

 

Craven: Well, you just signed your own death certificate, punk, because I’m about show you what hardcore really is!

 

And with that, Craven smashes the microphone into the side of Luchador’s head, resulting in the loud sound of feedback flowing from the speakers. Seeing this, Referee Matthew Kivell signals to the timekeeper...

 

 

 

DING DING DING!

 

 

 

IL hits the mat as the match begins, but Craven immediately dives at him, connecting with an elbow to the sternum! Luchador cries out, grabbing his chet and rolling towards the outside, but Craven grabs him by the leg as he gets back up, stopping him from leaving. IL reaches out for something to grab onto, but Craven pulls him back with one tug, still holding onto that leg as he begins to stomp into Luchador’s chest. IL cries out, trying to block the stomps somehow, but he can’t at the moment.

 

Riley: This is why you shouldn’t mess with Craven, much less in a hardcore match! A purely stupid move by Luchador challenging Craven to a match he usually excels in!

 

Comet: Perhaps young IL is trying to prove he can keep up with Craven, pessimistic partner?

 

Riley: No way. IL’s challenge makes as much sense as challenging ELM to a ladder match, or you to a stupid contest...

 

Craven continues stomping for several seconds before he stops, dropping IL’s leg and running back to the ropes, flies off them at the sore IL. As he approaches IL, he leaps up, bringing his legs up as he plunges down towards the real life Andrew Rickmen, but IL sits up before Craven makes contact, barely ducking his leg on the way up and forcing Craven to land on his tailbone! Craven immeidately grabs it, crying in pain as he slowly rises back up onto his feet, where IL cuts him off with a hard right jab! Craven is thrown back a bit by the surprise punch as IL connects with another, sending IL staggering back a step as he tries to keep his balance. This allows IL the opportunity to utilize the ropes, running to and bouncing off them quickly, his speed advantage beginning to show itself as he flies back at Craven, colliding with and taking down Craven as he spring into a cross body block!

 

Riley: You’re kidding me! IL actually hit Craven with a cross body block!

 

Comet: He took the sinister Craven down in a single bound! Perhaps he can use the element of surprise to his advantage and gain a quick pinfall!

 

IL lands on top of Craven, quickly hooking his leg for the pin...

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

...but Craven kicks out before Kivell can even drop to make the count! IL doesn’t seem at all too shocked that Craven managed to kick out, but then again, he doesn’t seem at all too happy he didn’t get a count off the move.

 

Riley: Did you see that? Kivell didn’t even make a count! That’s the power of Craven, Comet!

 

Comet: But alas, young sidekick, he cannot win, for good always triumphs over evil!

 

Riley: You’re not in Gotham City anymore, masked blunder.

 

Both men rise back up onto their feet after the pinfall attempt, but IL catches Craven with a swift kick to the gut, keeping Craven doubled over while he runs for the ropes. Ricocheting off them, he shoots at Craven, grabbing Mike around the head before ge drops to the mat, planting Craven into the canvas with a bulldog! Craven hits the mat with a tremendous amount of force, so much, that it causes him to bounce onto his back as IL releases the headlock, Luchador ascending as Craven sits up. IL grabs Craven as he sits up, pulling him to his feet as fast as he can, but Craven reacts violently, connecting with a one-two combo of a hard right hook and a knee to the gut as he recovers. While the combo stuns IL for the second, Craven isn’t finished, grabbing IL’s arm and whipping him towards the ropes! Luchador, however, reverses the whip, but instead of Irish whipping Craven, IL uses the arm hold to pull Craven towards himself, and pressing his hip into Craven’s side, flips both himself and Craven over with a hip toss! Both men hit the mat hard, IL landing on top of Craven, which allows Lucador to reac over and hook Craven’s leg, neatly pinning Mike to the mat! Kivell drops to his knees and begins to count...

 

 

 

One!

 

 

 

 

Craven gets the shoulder up right before the count of two! IL can sense that Craven is starting to feel the effects of his moves, and as he reaches down and pulls Craven up, he begins to go after Craven’s neck with right hands, which has still not fully recovered from the Demonstar Driver.

 

Riley: Not even two for IL! Is he really trying to wrestle?

 

Comet: Remember, impatient page, that Citizen Luchador is notorious for being an underdog, and he often makes his heroic comeback late in the battle!

 

Riley: So? We’re not talking about later. We’re talkin about right frickin’ now!

 

As IL pulls Craven to his feet, he grabs him around the head in a front headlock, and dropping back, plants him on the mat with a basic DDT! Craven’s head bounces off the canvas, Mike grabbing his neck as he rolls onto his back. However, this protective tactic leaves him open for attack, and as IL gets to his feet, he notices Craven’s position. Leaping over The Gulf Coast Hurricane, Luchadr runs for the ropes, jumping onto the top one. He doesn’t stay there long, though, as he jumps right back off, flipping backwards towards Craven with a springboard moonsault!

 

 

 

“THUD!”

 

 

 

But Craven brings his knees up, jarring them into IL’s chest! IL’s head whips forward, his face slamming into the side of Craven’s knee before he bounces off them, landing hard on his back!

 

Riley: And a beautiful counter from Craven! Did you see how IL’s head slammed into his knee? KA-POW! He’s gotta be out after that!

 

Comet: Fear not, citizen Riley, for IL shall make his heroic comeback and extinguish the flames of deceit with the fire extinguisher of honesty and truth!

 

Riley: I don’t want to see IL come back, you moron. I want to see IL get his ass kicked by Craven!

 

As IL and Craven get to their feet, both men a bit shaky at the moment, IL winds up and takes a huge swing, but Craven ducks the spinning fist! Mike waistlocks Luchador from behind as he spins, and Luchador pays for his tactical mistake as Craven easily lifts him up, dropping him back into a stiff German suplex!

 

Riley: German suplex from Craven! IL’s in real danger now!

 

Craven holds onto the move, bridging back and pinning IL’s shoulders to the mat, forcing Kivell to drop to the mat and count:

 

 

 

One!

 

 

 

IL kicks out just before two! Craven releases the bridge, not looking pleased with the results as he rises up to face a defiant crowd.

 

Comet: And yet again, good triumphs over evil, even against the odds!

 

Riley: What the hell are you talking about? This isn’t some God damn comic book, Comet.

 

IL gets to his feet, a tad bit wobbly, but Craven adds to it as he fires off a stiff left hook! IL takes the blow, but fires back, smacking Craven in the jaw with a right jab! , neither man pulling his punches as the two begin to brawl! The crowd pops as both men go after each other, exchanging blow for blow until Luchador nails Craven with a right hook-left overhand combo! The combo sends Craven staggering back, but Luchador jumps right on him, dropping Craven to the mat with a brutal uppercut!

 

Riley: This is surreal! I can’t believe Luchador’s fighting back! Is there not anyway Craven can keep that lunatic down?

 

Following Craven’s fall, Luchador jumps on top of him, pummeling at Craven’s head with no disregard for the safety of the King of Nightmares. Craven at first tries to block the punches with his arms, and with the little success he has, finds an opening in IL’s defense. He draws his arms down from his face, only to bring them up, clenching IL around the throat with both hands! The pummeling abruptly stops as IL begins to gasp for breath, the match’s momentum quickly turning in Craven’s favor.

 

Comet: NO! The nefarious King of Nightmares has his Ultimate Choke Grip of Doom and Destruction on the young warrior of justice known as Insane Luchador!

 

Riley: YES! Choke the life out of that pathetic excuse for a wrestler!

 

Both men slowly rise to their feet, IL still gasping for air as he tears at Craven’s hands, Craven lifting him off the mat and into the air, still choking him. Kivell can only watch as IL tries to free himself, but Craven shows no mercy, taking a step back before he spins around, swinging IL before he releases him, Luchador flying almost halfway across the ring before he lands on the mat!

 

Riley: WHOA! Did you see THAT, you spadex-wearing freak? That’s the true power of The King of Nightmares!

 

Comet: Yes, and I see that even though he is evil, sir Craven does indeed posses the characteristic super-strength...

 

Riley: Indeed he does. I’m surprised you haven’t made mention of-

 

Comet: ...But it's super-strength... OF EEEEEEEEEEVIL!

 

Riley drops his head and sighs at Comet’s comment.

 

Riley: I spoke too soon...

 

Luchador slams into the canvas, remaining down while Craven walks towards him, grabbing him by the hair and pulling him to his feet. As Mike pulls IL up, he grabs him by the head, nailing him with three quick right overhand punches to the forehead before he grabs his arm and whips him forcefully to the ropes! Luchador flies at them, Craven ducking down to catch IL off the rebound...

 

 

 

...but Luchador grabs hold of the ropes, holding onto them and preventing himself from flying back at Craven!

 

Riley: This is crap! Craven can’t find a way to keep IL down!

 

The King of Nightmares, still wanting to punish his former ally some more, charges at the rope-grabbing IL. Luchador, though, releases the ropes and ducks down, sliding the charging Craven onto his back, and using Mike’s momentum, flips him up with a quick back body drop! IL drops down to his knees form the weight of Craven as he flies over the ropes, landing on his neck and shoulderblades outside the ring as the crowd starts into a chant appropriate for both men:

 

Crowd: M-L PRIDE! M-L PRIDE!

 

Comet: Listen, citizen Riley! The fans recongnize the past history between these two!

 

Riley: The crowd, of course, paying tribute to Craven’s original training grounds! Oh, and IL’s too, I guess.

 

Following his rough exit out of the ring, Craven slowly rises to his feet outside the ring as IL does the same inside the ring. Luchador looks back, and noticing Craven outside the ring, an idea pops into his head; a wild and crazy idea. Now on his feet, Luchador runs for the opposite ropes, shooting back off them, aimed at Mike as he asecnds. Hearing the crowd suddenly cheer, Craven looks up, spotting IL just as he leaps over the top rope, suicide diving at Craven!

 

Comet: Like all good defenders of justice, Insane Luchador flies through the air to take down evil!

 

Craven drops to his knees and curls himself up, though, forcing IL to fly over his body and slam into the steel barricade surrouding the ring!

 

Riley: Well, that was fun for the few seconds it lasted, but the aftermath is even better!

 

Luchador lets out a painful cry as Craven rises again, grabbing his neck, but he lets out another cry as Craven nails him in the back of the neck with a hard boot, following that by pressing the heel of his boot into the vertebrae of Luchador’s neck!

 

Comet: Zounds! Craven has resorted to cheating! Something must be done, cynical cohort!

 

Riley: It’s a hardcore match, you dope! There are no rules, and therefore, no cheating!

 

After several seconds of pressing his boot into IL’s neck, Craven backs off from IL, allowing him to get up under his own power. Grabbing hold of the railing outside the ring, IL pulls himself slowly to his feet, looking a bit dazed from the missed suicide dive and subsequent bump, staggering just a bit forward as he tries to regain his bearings and balance, but that stagger sends him forward, right into a bent-over King of Nightmares! Luchador’s mistake costs him dearly as Craven grabs IL around the ankles, lifting him up into the air as he drops back and flapjacks IL face-first onto the ring steps!

 

 

“THUD!”

 

 

Luchador bounces slightly off the steps, but not enough to notice as the top half of the steps slide off to the ground. Craven sits up following the attack, a wicked smile across his face.

 

Riley: What a flap jack! Did you hear the ear-pleasing ring echoing throughout the Kingdome, Comet? This is what wrestling is all about: sheer brutality!

 

Turning around, he grabs IL, dragging him off the steps, and rolling him onto his back, Craven covers him, attempting a pinfall after the vicious shot, the crowd refusing to count along with Kivell...

 

 

 

One!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Two!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

...IL gets the shoulder up!

 

 

 

 

As Craven pulls IL up, he forces him to bend over, slamming a hard knee into IL’s face! The force pushes Luchador’s body upright, but Craven, still holding onto the back of his head, slams his head back down, this time into the ring apron! IL’s head hits the apron, Craven releasing the grip on Luchador’s head and turning his attention off to his right, where the announcers and ringside personnel are, looking for something.

 

Comet: What a heinous stare from Craven! What evil plans could he be formulating in that twisted mind of his?

 

Riley: It’s not heinous! I could see it clear as day! He’s not some supervillain, you cape-wearing freak!

 

Comet: ...How close were you looking, Bobby?

 

Riley: Stop it! Enough with that crap! Who the hell taught you how to announce? “Grand Slam” Mark Stevens?

 

Spotting what he wants, Craven makes his move, slowly walking towards the announce table, but instead grabbing Funyon’s chair. Funyon at first does not give it up, but Craven solves that problem by shoving the ring announcer out of his chair. The crowd throws a hissyfit at Craven’s actions, but The King of Nightmares ignores their boos, focused instead on his next goal, turning his head around to look at his former friend and now-hated rival.

 

Comet:

 

IL tries to push himself up, his head throbbing in pain, but the pain is only about to get worse as Craven swings his steel chair, slamming IL square in the forehead with a vicious, merciless chair shot!

 

 

 

“CRACK!”

 

 

 

Riley: WHAT A CHAIR SHOT! That’s got to be all she wrote!

 

The chair shot lays IL out across the ringside padding, allowing Craven the opportunity to quickly cover him, the crowd rising out of their seats to watch as Kivell counts...

 

 

 

One!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Two!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THR-IL kicks out, resulting in a thundering cheer from the crowd! Craven gets to his knees, and looking up, points at Matthew Kivell, lashing out at the referee for his “slow counts”.

 

Comet: Look at him take out his anger on poor, defenseless Matthew Kivell! Only further proof that Craven is nothing more than a nogoodnik!

 

Riley: Aw, come on, Kivell! Make the damn count and do it right! That was three right there!

 

As he yells at Kivell, the crowd can sense his frustration and decides to play on it, an innocent chant at first from some sarcastic fans spereading across the entire arena until it's audible:

 

Crowd: We want Ket-chum! “Clap-clap-clapclapclap” We want Ket-chum! “Clap-clap-clapclapclap”

 

Riley: Please tell me they are not chanting that. Someone please tell me they’re not.

 

Comet: Oh, but they are, citizen Riley! They long to see the good side of citizen craven once again!

 

But bringing up his former alias does not please Craven at all, and he responds rather harshly.

 

Craven: Fuck you!

 

The crowd boos, some garbage being thrown in Craven’s direction, but none of it reaches him as he grabs IL and pulls him to his feet. Dragging IL with one arm, he leads him to the announcer’s table, bashing his head into the table one before rolling him onto the table. Climbing up himself, Craven grabs hold of IL, pulling him up enough to slide his head in between Craven’s legs. Mike then bends down, grabbing and lifting IL up onto his shoulders!

 

Riley: He’s gonna powerbomb him through the table! Get out of the way!

 

As Craven lifts IL up, though, Luchador desperately grabs Craven’s face, digging his fingernails into Craven’s face! The face rake causes Craven to cry in pain, but more importantly, distracts him long enough for IL to flip back, throwing Craven into a hurrcanrana!

 

 

“THUD!”

 

 

However, the table does not give at all, resulting in Craven taking a massive slam on his neck!

 

Comet: HOLY REVERSALS, RILEY!!! What a counter! The Powerbomb of All Things Evil right into The Ultimate Hurracanrana of Heroic Proportions!

 

Riley: That’s not possible! How’d he manage to do that?

 

Comet: Well, it’s rather simple-

 

Riley: I don’t need an explanation, caped blunder!

 

As the dynamic duo watch on, IL reaches back hold of Craven’s legs, and pulling them forward, pins him down, the crowd jumping to their feet as Kivell rushes over to count:

 

 

 

One!

 

 

 

 

 

Two!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TH-Craven breaks the pin! The crowd roars with boos as Kivell jumps up, holding up only two fingers while IL falls forward, trying to catch his breath.

 

Riley: Phew! Craven breaks the pin, but he still landed hard on his neck! That sounded like it hurt!

 

Craven rolls off the table, landing hard on the ground outside the ring as IL follows suit, but rolls onto his feet, slowly bending over and grasping Mike by the hair, nailing him in the head briefly with two overhand punches. Slowly pulling Craven off the ground and onto his feet, IL leads him over to the apron, getting a little revenge as he slams Craven’s head into the apron before rolling him into the ring. IL remains on the outside, though, instead turning around, and with a slight stagger, grabs the steel chair Craven tired to hit him with, throwing that into the ring before he throws up the ring apron, scavenging under the ring for more weaponry. The crowd cheers loudly as IL quickly turns up another steel chair and a small chain, sliding both into the ring before he reaches underneath deeper, looking for something else. Meanwhile, back in the ring, Craven is trying to rise up, but slips back down to his knees as he tries to rise. He pauses, trying to catch his breath, and looking up, spots the steel chair he used before. He slowly crawls towards it as the crowd pops, IL pulling out a table from under the ring and sliding it into the ring. IL then climbs up onto the apron, Craven now rising to his feet, staggering back towards IL, but in a surprise move, Craven swings the steel chair that he just grabbed at Luchador! IL manages to duck, tripping Craven up, and as a result, forces Craven to fall forward, causing Mike to hit the steel chair he was wielding!

 

 

“CRACK!”

 

Comet: Ha! He tricked Craven into attacking and made him pay for it! That will show Craven not to try and stop good from winning!

 

Luchador quickly enters the ring, grabbing Craven and pulling him to his feet, but as he pulls Craven up, Luchador is grabbed around the neck by Craven and whipped over his shoulder, landing in a sitting-up position on the mat after being snap mared by Mike, releasing his grip on the chain as he flips. Now on the mat, IL is grabbed around the head and arm by Craven, thrown into a dragon sleeper! IL tries to fight his way out, but Craven helps him up, oddly pulling him to his feet at first, but then, it becomes apparent why he has done so. With Luchador in the right position, all Craven has to do is spin and sit down, slamming IL’s head off his shoulder with the Roll of The Dice!

 

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

 

The crowd watches on, booing loudly as Craven releases IL, 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 IL! Craven rolls off IL, quickly jumping to his feet to dispute the call, but before he can, he notices the chair reflecting in the lights, almost calling out to him. Mesmerized, and getting an idea, he moves towards the chair

 

Comet: What sinister plans is Craven concocting, Bobby? What is running through his mind that has been darkened by evil?

 

Riley: Oh gee, Comet, I don’t know. Maybe it has to do with hitting IL with a steel chair?!?!

 

And suddenly, as Craven picks up the chair, the energy inside of him building, he hears cheers, and turning his head around, sees IL rising, Kivell trying to help him if he can. Craven’s arms suddenly tremble, a trembling that travels all through his body... a tremble of fear... a tremble of anger...

 

Craven: No... no way...

 

And with that, Craven lets out a scream, readying to swing at IL as he spins and steps forward, lifting the chair before he swings it down...

 

Riley: Here it is!! Good night, IL!

 

 

 

 

 

“CLANK!”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

But IL ducks the blow! He slides behind Craven, the King of Nightmares turning around, bringing the chair up for another shot-

 

 

 

“CLANK!”

 

 

 

But he eats a face full of steel, thanks in part to a superkick from Insane Luchador that knocks Craven abruptly to the mat!

 

Comet: AND GOOD COMES THROUGH ONCE AGAIN! LUCHADOR WITH THE SUPERKICK OF JUSTICE TO CRAVEN! EVIL IS DOWN AND OUT FOR THE COUNT!

 

Luchador flips the chair off Craven’s chest, quickly dropping on top of him, the crowd rising to its feet in cheers while Matthew Kivell drops to make the count...

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

One!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Two!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THREE!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

NO! CRAVEN KICKS OUT AT THE LAST SECOND! LUCHADOR CANNOT BELIEVE IT!

 

Riley: Holy crap! I thought that was it! I’m surprised Craven is still conscious and moving!

 

Rising to his feet, IL slowly makes his way to the turnbuckle, where he signals to the fans for a big move, hopping to the middle, then top rope. He remains perched up there as the crowd pops, knowing what to expect next as IL watches back, waiting for Craven to slowly rise to his feet.

 

Riley: He isn’t-

 

Comet: He’s gonna fly, citizen Riley, like all good superheroes can!

 

Slowly, The King of Nightmares pushes himself up onto his feet, staggering and nearly falling but finally, just as he is about to get up, Luchador leaps off the top rope, flipping backwards into the air as he comes down on Craven, colliding into The King of Nightmares!

 

 

 

...

 

 

 

 

But Craven catches him on his shoulder! Luchador is left dangling in peril, his head pointing down towards the mat. Craven staggers back, but catches his balance, and looking down at IL, has thoughts, memories pass through his mind.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Flashbacks to the Genesis II tournament.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

He knows what he wants.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

And he’s going to get it.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Riley: Is he thinking what I think he is?

 

Comet: What do you mean, citizen Riley?

 

Riley: Just watch, Comet. I want to see what he’s gonna do.

 

Turning around, he sees a steel chair lying on the mat, quickly lining himself up with it. And then, he runs at the chair, not very fast, however, but it matters not. At the right moment, he jumps into the air, flying forward and dropping down....

 

 

 

...down...

 

 

 

 

 

 

...down onto the steel chair with a variation on his Samoan Driver!

 

 

 

 

 

“CRACK!”

 

 

 

 

Riley: JUMPING CRAVEN DRIVER!!! CHRIS RAYNOR TOOK ONE TWO YEARS AGO, AND NOW IL HAS TAKEN ONE!

 

As he sits on the mat, Craven releases Luchador, allowing him to limply fall forward so that Craven can hook his leg, pinning him to the mat. The crowd is quieted for the moment as Kivell drops to count...

 

 

 

One!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Two!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THREE!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

DING DING DING!!!!

 

 

 

 

Funyon: The winner of the match... MICHAEL CRAAAAAVEN!!!

 

Craven rolls offLuchador, remaining down as “King of My World” plays in the background, and before Bobby can celebrate, we have to fade to commercial...

[Kaertos 0]

..

 

 

 

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…”

 

 

..

 

 

C o m e t "And here he is, my fellow regenerate buddy, Andrew Blackwell!"

 

R i l e y "Surely you don't believe he still considers you a 'buddy..."

 

C o m e t "Either way Bobby, I support him wholeheartedly as he begins his journey through this Genesis tournament, and towards the gold!"

 

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.

 

F u n y o n "The following match is a Genesis Tournament match! And it is scheduled for one fall. Introducing first, from Adelaide Australia. Standing six foot one and weighing two hundred and thirty one pounds... he is the Sacred One... he is, ANDREW BLACKWELL!"

 

R i l e y "An important match for both men, both in vastly different stages of their career. Xcalibur has only recently joined the federation, and looking to make an impact, and a name for himself, while Blackwell pushes for a different agenda, trying to get his message out to the people while reminding them all that he STILL has what it takes..."

 

C o m e t "Of course he does! He'll never lose that fighting spirit, and it only grows stronger with every passing match!"

 

Blackwell stretches with aid from the ropes, as “Stupid Girl” by Cold plays up as a gold shower of pyro falls down from the ceiling. Xcalibur walks through it and just heads towards the ring. He keeps a quietly confident look on his face as he walks down the ramp, before sliding into the ring, proceeding Funyon's announcement...

 

F u n y o n "... And his opponent, he hails Houston, Texas. He stands six foot tall and weighs in at two hundred and thirty six pounds... please welcome... XCALIBUR!"

 

R i l e y "A relative unknown to the SWF is Xcalibur, making him a wild card of sorts, but one thing's for sure, Blackwell has the experience factor in his corner, and will use it to dominate this match."

 

X hops on the spot, simply watching Blackwell as he stretches, the two charismatic speakers forgetting the spreading of their message for now, ready to do battle, as...

 

DING! DING! DING!

 

The bell rings to begin the match!

 

Simply testing his opponent out, Xcalibur lets a flurry of quick kicks head Blackwell's way, but the Australian backs away after every shot. X shoots a confident smirk, irritating the experienced albeit jaded Sacred One, who comes right back with a foray of forearm blows, but X ducks and weaves out of the way to avoid them. Just as Xcalibur grins again, his mouth suddenly opens in shock as he is soon put on the flat of his back by a leg sweep!

 

C o m e t "You're exactly right about the experience factor Bobby, and Sacred does not want to lose control of this match to a rookie who's trying to steal his spotlight!"

 

Just as Blackwell reaches over to grab Xcalibur, he is suddenly caught around the neck in a headscissors! After kicking up from the mat and catching Blackwell, X quickly flips back onto the mat, shooting Andrew into the corner with a headscissors, but Blackwell stops himself before he hits! Xcalibur gets up and turns around, shocked once again to see Blackwell on his feet, but not shocked enough that he can't duck underneath a spinning kick from the Australian. But Blackwell bails out of the kick mid move, instead reaching underneath X from behind and throwing him into the air, slamming him back down with a Back Drop Suplex!

 

R i l e y "Beautiful move, and Blackwell moves into the cover!"

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

T...

 

C o m e t "Ooh! A great way to start off, Blackwell remaining cool under pressure, and pulling out his usual bag of tricks to confuse the dastardly Xcalibur!"

 

R i l e y "But Xcalibur is not to be taken lightly... lord no, he is a master at reading every situation, and if he knows he's in trouble, he'll know what to do to equalize."

 

But the wily Asian man kicks out, rolling away and climbing back to his feet using the ropes to sustain himself, but Blackwell darts over and connects with a few vicious forearms, before an Irish Whip sends X across the ring. Xcalibur returns to find Blackwell hunched over, and smiles thinking it too easy as he sends a kick towards Blackwell's head, but the Australian suddenly straightens up and catches his foot! Andrew lifts the leg up and flips Xcalibur around, and this time catches X with the spinning kick!

 

He rolls back to his feet, only to be caught in Blackwell's grip and lifted up into the air vertically, and taken down with a Suplex! Blackwell rolls back into a lateral press!

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TW...

 

C o m e t "Two count only! A brilliant, I say BRILLIAN feign from Sacred as he suckered in Xcalibur hook, line and sinker!"

 

R i l e y "If Blackwell ever faces Tom Flesher, that will be one LONG night..."

 

But another kick out from Xcalibur! As soon as the Asian Motivational Speaker begins to crawl away, Blackwell takes him by the arm and neck, locking him into a Chickenwing Facelock! X struggles, arms flaying in the air wildly as Blackwell looks on with an emotionless expression, showing utter distaste for his opponent.

 

R i l e y "It's all business for Blackwell... all he wants to do is deal with this new threat and make sure his message is not heard."

 

Xcalibur soon mounts a comeback by climbing onto one knee! He finally works his way back onto two feet, firing a couple of back elbows into Sacred's jaw, before trying to break free and bolt forward, but Sacred keeps him in place, and throws him over his head in a modified Suplex!

 

... But X lands back on his feet!

 

C o m e t "What agility! Even I must marvel at Xcalibur's grace and balance!"

 

R i l e y "This is his opening Comet, I just hope he does something to equalize!"

 

Blackwell is caught off guard as he turns around, getting hit with a dropkick to the knee from Xcalibur! Following this, X takes Blackwell's arm and throws it over his shoulder, suddenly and violently snapping Sacred over in a Suplex! Xcalibur forgoes the pin, instead he rolls back onto his feet with Blackwell still locked in his clutches...

 

C o m e t "He's beginning his chain Snap Suplex sequence! A cover would be foolhardy and he knows it Bobby, so instead he opts to Suplex Sacred again!"

 

A knee to the midsection soon loosens X's grip! Sacred takes X by the arm and spins around, causing the Asiatic Warrior to cringe, before Blackwell whips him forward... then back into a short arm forearm blow!

 

R i l e y "But he won't hit them that easily! Blackwell was ready for that and countered!"

 

Blackwell pulls away, then yanks on X's arm, hitting another forearm! Two more forearms leave Xcalibur dazed as Sacred finally lets him go, whipping him into the corner. The impact sends Xcalibur stumbling back towards Blackwell, who reaches underneath his foe and lifts him up by the arm, slamming him back on his spine with the Spanish Inquisition!

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

Too dazed to lift himself up, Xcalibur needs a little help from Blackwell who kindly obliges, before rearing back with one arm and...

 

"WHOO!"

 

... Lashing X across the chest with a knife-edge chop!

 

"WHOO!"

 

And then with another!

 

"WHOO!"

 

C o m e t "Lightning chops struck with the fiery open hand on justice! No one hits a chop quite like Sacred!"

 

R i l e y "You're such a fool Gatsby."

 

The chops finally cease, but not the punishment for Xcalibur does not as Blackwell whips his Asiatic foe into the ropes, only the worst intentions for him in mind. But to his surprise, he is suddenly floored by a Dropkick from X! The blow dazes Blackwell for only a second as he whirls back to his feet, but X knows he has to work fast, catching Andrew with an enziguri to the back of the head with his back turned! The blow causes Sacred to fall into the ropes in front of him, hitting them chest first and bounces back, before X takes him down with a reverse neckbreaker!

 

R i l e y "Finally! Xcalibur worms through an opening and hits a neckbreaker to turn the tide, if only for a second or two!"

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TW...

 

Blackwell kicks out! The Australian crawls away, slowly climbing back to his feet with one hand grabbing at his neck as Xcalibur pounces, knocking Sacred's head back with vicious right hands before whipping him into the ropes. The Australian comes back, only to be taken down with a Hurricanrana that sends him flying half way across the ring!

 

Sacred again climbs back to his feet, but once again, X is there to meet him, grabbing him in a front face lock, lifting him into the air with a vertical Suplex. Confusion reigns amongst the crowd as X lets Sacred land on his feet behind him, but his true intentions are soon made clear as he sits out!

 

R i l e y "Hangman's Noose Neckbreaker! As I said before, Xcalibur is brilliant at reading a situation and changing plans at the drop of a Piledriver, as he looks to be targeting Blackwell's neck, hitting a very nasty neckbreaker."

 

Upon hitting the mat, Blackwell grabs his neck after it was snapped back at a dangerous angle, but Xcalibur only miles as he hooks the Australian by the leg!

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TH...

 

C o m e t "OOH! He nearly had him, but not quite I say, not quite yet!"

 

Xcalibur lifts his fallen opponent from the mat, pushing him into the turnbuckles, drawing back his left arm...

 

"WHOO!"

 

And bringing it across Sacred's neck!

 

"WHOO!"

 

C o m e t "He can't do that! The ref should have stopped him already! This is a grave injustice!"

 

R i l e y "Oh pipe down! It's a great move on Xcalibur's part, keeping his attention focused on Blackwell's neck..."

 

C o m e t "I still say the referee should be on the ball, these chops look mighty discomforting to me RX pal!"

 

Another blow causes a roar from the fans, and a stern warning from the referee who threatens disqualification if this continues, but X knows the score and stops immediately, wasting no time in whipping Blackwell across the other side of the ring. Blackwell hits the pads with a thud, and can't move out of the way in time as Xcalibur charges towards him, leaping into the air, knocking his head off with a Dropkick!

 

C o m e t "Never have I seen the Dropkick used so extensively and so violently in all my life! Mr. Blackwell must be feeling a terrible pain in his neck, literally and metaphorically!"

 

R i l e y "Just as it looked he could end this match early, Xcalibur finally shows his true colours with some spirited offence, knowing where exactly to target, that being Sacred's neck, hitting it hard and fast with neck snapping impact moves!"

 

Xcalibur climbs back onto his feet as Blackwell stumbles out from the corner, getting caught in the breadbasket by a kick from X. As he doubles over in pain, Blackwell's arm is taken by Xcalibur, who puts his leg over the Australians head, rearing back, then diving forward, spinning himself around...

 

R i l e y "The Houston Hurricane! And we've seen what this leads to..."

 

C o m e t "I fear this match is slipping from my dear friend Sacred! He must take dire action if he is to continue the fight for justice!"

 

R i l e y "Doesn't it bother you that Blackwell is hated by nearly everyone...?"

 

C o m e t "Look, until he takes on a face, I'm supporting him, ok?"

 

As the commentators have a little out of character moment, Xcalibur gets back to his feet, looking down at Blackwell... then glances up and smiles at his adoring fans, all four of them in row 137... he then looks at the turnbuckles nearest to him, pointing to them as the crowd lets out an all mighty roar!

 

C o m e t "Looks like it's time for Xcalibur's Revenge! I don't know what he's avenging exactly, but it certainly is not justice!"

 

R i l e y "... Black and Decker."

 

As Comet sits there confused, Xcalibur steps through the ropes and climbs up onto the first, then second turnbuckle, finally reaching the top as he turns himself around, standing tall on the top rope and raising his arms, showboating to the crowd with a sly and confident smirk on his face.

 

But he loses it as he loses his footing, crotching himself on the top rope! The cause of this is Blackwell who lunge across and fell on the top rope! The referee walks over, telling Blackwell to cut it out, before beginning to walk over to check on Xcalibur...

 

Sacred grunts, his frustration reaching a crescendo as he looks back up, a burning twinge felt in his neck. Suddenly, he dives across the ring, hitting the referee in the back of the head with a forearm!

 

C o m e t "Finally justice is done! I knew something was off with this referee, with his late calls and unfair treatment..."

 

R i l e y "What is wrong with you!? He just hit an innocent referee!? You should be outraged!"

 

Looking down at the referee, then Xcalibur, who stirs on the top rope, Sacred slides out of the ring, stamping across the floor and snapping up a steel chair! The crowd cheers, sort of, as Blackwell rolls back into the ring, climbing back to his feet.

 

Andrew raises the hair above his head and brings it down...

 

THWACK!

 

C o m e t "What a brilliant, legal move from Sacred! Hitting Xcalibur with a steel chair!"

 

R i l e y "Argh! IS there no end to your delusions man!?"

 

Bringing it down across X's head! The crowd "Ooh!" after the impact, as Sacred drops the chair... a smile finally appearing on his face. He rubs his swollen neck as he climbs up onto the second tier, grabbing Xcalibur in a front face lock... then taking him by the arm...

 

R i l e y "No... he wouldn't... how could he let his frustrations get away with him so much?!"

 

Sacred locks on the front chancre, standing up tall... before jumping back from the turnbuckles, kicking his legs out...

 

C o m e t "Old School!"

 

R i l e y "Don't say it..."

 

C o m e t "JUSTICE!"

 

The two fall from grace, both parallel with the ground...

 

THUD!

 

Before Sacred slams Xcalibur down with a top rope CRUEL FATE! Blackwell hit the mat hard, and his neck is surely feeling the pain, but he smiles anyway, draping an arm across X's chest as the fans cry out after the earth shattering impact!

 

The referee crawls over, finally recovering from Sacred's blow...He brings his arm down slowly as the fans chant along, knowing the end is near!

 

"ONE!"

 

 

 

 

 

"TWO!"

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"THREE!"

 

DING! DING! DING!

 

Blackwell rolls off of Xcalibur as Tainted by Lycia kicks up and the tide of boos and jeers from the capacity crowd are heard, but Blackwell cares not as he crawls away, hearing Funyon yell into the mic...

 

F u n y o n "The winner of this match and advancing into the second round of the tournament... ANDREW BLACKWELL!"

 

R i l e y "And Blackwell scraps past round one, but only before Xcalibur began to dominate, forcing Sacred to hit him with a steel chair!"

 

C o m e t "It matters not citizen Riley, as one must do anything to win! Bu I agree, Xcalibur gave him an awful fright, and forced Blackwell to breaking point, where he had to lash out his frustrations!"

 

R i l e y "But he has succeeded in silencing Xcalibur here tonight, and will continue in the tournament, as coming up next, we have Junior League star the English Dragon take on the Silent One, Nathaniel Kibagami! What a chance for the Junior Leaguer to make an impact in the big league's, but also, what an opportunity for Kibagami to cause some more mayhem and destruction! And that's all coming up NEXT!"

 

Sacred leaves the ring quickly; rolling onto the floor before the referee finally puts two and two together. The fans boo him viciously as he walks up the ramp, but he smiles, another threat to his project out of the way, and he brings his arms out, as if to welcome the fans into the fold, mouthing to them all...

 

 

"Join the Experiment..."

 

 

Before we star wipe to nothing...

[Kaertos 0]

“Welcome back to SWF Lockdown, ladies and gentlemen!” Bobby Riley sits at the announcer’s table, an obviously forced smile plastered on his face. “I’m Bobby Riley…”

 

”And I…am CYCLOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONE COMET!”

 

”You are also causing permanent damage to my hearing! Christ, man,” sighs Riley. “Can’t you just do that at the beginning of the show? You know, only one time?”

 

”I could, Bobby, but catchphrases sell t-shirts, and the commissioner has asked me to sell t-shirts.”

 

“Did he ask you to bellow like an imbecile every ten minutes?”

 

”You know, Bobby, I think you could benefit from a catchphrase of your own.”

 

Riley snorts. “I’ll take it into consideration. We’re heading into the third match of the World title tournament right now, where Nathaniel Kibagami will meet English Dragon, one of the hot JL prospects that have been allowed to participate in the tournament. I have to give the advantage to the Brit here – Kibagami’s just coming off a loss to Dante Crane on Storm, and he’s not the most focused man in the federation when he loses a match. Dragon, on the other hand, has a reputation in the minors as a calm, collected ring technician who methodically dismantles his opponents. I think this is tonight’s upset special, easily. What about you, Comet?”

 

The bright-blue defender of truth and justice puffs his chest out slightly, diverting the camera’s focus from the can of Pepsi MAX© at his side. “Bobby, I believe there are important considerations you are not considering. Considerations of considerable….considerable…” Comet sputters and searches vainly for another word that begins with ‘C’, but fails. “Considerations of considerable import,” he sighs.

 

“Oh, really.”

 

Comet assumes the most solemn look one can assume with a bright blue mask covering one’s face. “You have forgotten to consider that Nathaniel Kibagami is an upholder…of JUSTICE!” The crowd pops like a cherry on prom night for another of Cyclone Comet’s catchphrases, and Riley can only hang his head as “Land of Hope and Glory” begins to play.

 

“Ladies and gentlemen, the following match is part of the WORLD TITLE TOURNAMENT, and is scheduled for one fall. Introducing first, hailing from London, England, weighing in at two hundred and twenty-three pounds, being accompanied by his butler, Robertson…he is the SJL EUROPEAN CHAMPION….THE ENGLISH…DRAGON!”

 

Dragon makes his entrance through the curtains at the top of the ramp, followed closely by the hulking Robertson as he makes his way to ringside, staring down his nose at the hostile Fargo crowd as he does so. The arena lights glare off of the masked man’s gold-colored outfit, occasionally obscuring the camera’s view of him as he climbs through the ropes, taking care to wipe his boots on the apron before doing so.

 

“See that? That’s class, there. He’s trying not to get the ring dirty.”

 

”Bobby, if he truly wanted to avoid disturbing the ring, he would abstain from any match with the Silent One, don’t you think?”

 

Fog begins to billow up from unseen holes in the entrance ramp as the first haunting notes of Nevermore’s “The River Dragon Has Come” echo through the arena. The SmarksTron shows Kibagami, back facing the camera, in a simple wooden chair, just as the audience is lulled into a false sense of security by the soothing music…

 

*BAM*!

 

Every light in the arena – the house lights, the spotlights near the entrance ramp, even the picture on the SmarksTron – suddenly flares, blinding white, as the distortion kicks in and the music begins to pound through the speakers. The picture on the SmarksTron is replaced with the familiar burning ankh…

 

Today, the warning came in the flood…

 

Riley, who is squeezing his eyes shut as tightly as he can, finally opens them. “Is it over? I hate that part. It’s worse than flash photography.”

 

”You must concede, Bobby, that it is certainly a memorable entrance.”

 

”Memorable? I don’t remember anything about it – I had to close my eyes to keep from going blind.”

 

Kibagami comes through the curtains and the fog as the vocals begin, and the lights are finally reduced to their usual level. The Silent One briskly makes his way to the ring, ignoring the fans’ cheers completely as the music surges forward.

 

“Introducing second…hailing from Phoenix, Arizona, and weighing in at two hundred and sixty-eight pounds…NATHANIEL KIBAAAAAAGAMI!”

 

Kibagami slides into the ring, rolls to his feet, and walks to the nearest turnbuckle, ignoring Funyon, Kivell, and his opponent completely. Kibagami climbs to the top rope and poses in the crucifix position briefly before hopping back off the top rope and turning back towards the center of the ring.

 

Dragon adjusts his mask slightly as Matthew Kivell briefly reviews the rules with both men. Kibagami nods curtly at the referee, as does the masked man, and Kivell signals for the bell!

 

DING DING DING!

 

Kibagami lunges towards the smaller man, looking for a quick collar-and-elbow tieup, but the English Dragon is just the slightest bit faster, rocking his opponent’s jaw with a stiff European uppercut! The European champion follows up with a second, and a third…but Kibagami’s head snaps right back into place, his eyes narrowing with no small amount of displeasure at Dragon’s choice of tactics. A fourth uppercut elicits no reaction at all from the former Clansman, instead earning a sharp knee to the gut for the English Dragon!

 

The British superstar doubles over, only to be met with a second knee, this one striking his chest! Kibagami grabs hold of one of the masked man’s outstretched arms as Dragon stumbles backwards and pulls him to the mat, looking to cinch in a Fujiwara armbar early! Dragon reacts quickly, however – he manages to break his fall with his free hand and flip over, bridge out, and apply a reverse armbar instead…but before he can cinch it in, Nathaniel rolls onto his back and locks his hands together, using his considerable strength advantage to prevent Dragon from doing any damage to his striking arm. Gaining his footing, Nathaniel pushes up and back, using his locked arms to cradle the JLer’s leg and force his shoulders to the mat!

 

O

N

E

!

 

T

W

O

!

 

Dragon kicks his legs wildly and manages to roll out of the pin – both men quickly gain their feet and turn to face each other.

 

“Citizen Nathaniel almost took this one right off the bat, eh, chum?”

 

Bobby Riley looks a little bitter that he’s forced to agree. “I suppose so, Comet. As smooth a mat technician as Dragon is, Kibagami’s had a lot of time to learn by trial and error – I think both men would do well to proceed carefully, especially with so much riding on this match.”

 

Kibagami pauses for a moment as the crowd applauds, pondering how to best proceed, but Dragon charges towards him, looking for a quick forearm strike – but receiving a knee to the gut instead! The Silent One quickly cinches up his opponent and takes him over hard with a textbook snap suplex, then rolls over and hooks the leg.

 

O

N

E

!

 

T

W

O

!

 

”And a strong kickout from the English Dragon! You know, Dragon’s the European champion back in the Junior Leagues, Comet. You could even call him dominant – he’s on a bit of a winning streak lately.”

 

Kibagami pulls the European champion to his feet and applies an arm wrench, yanking down a few times to ensure his control of his opponent, before rocking Dragon’s jaw with a hook kick and sending him crashing back to the mat!

 

Cyclone Comet chuckles as only a true superhero can. “Hah!” Comet slaps Riley on the back, nearly sending Bobby’s coffee flying in the process. “Your latent fantasies aside, chum, that British scoundrel looks anything but dominant at the moment! Citizen Nathaniel is cleaning his clock quite effectively!”

 

“When did you become such a fan of his, anyway? I thought you had doubts about Kibagami after watching his match on Storm.”

 

Comet blinks. “Nay, Bobby! He has purchased one of my t-shirts. Kibagami truly is a man…of JUSTICE!”

 

While the European champion lies dazed on the mat, Nathaniel grabs hold of his arm and starts to wrap his legs around Dragon’s neck, looking for the triangle choke, but the masked man recognizes the hold and instinctively bolts towards the ropes, sticking his head through them to make it particularly clear to Matthew Kivell that he expects a reprieve from Kibagami’s assault. The Silent One stalks towards the ropes, his intentions perfectly clear, but Kivell forces him back. Dragon ignores the hail of boos from the Kingdome as he slowly eases out of the ropes…

 

“Have a care, Nathaniel! Watch out!”

 

…and shoves Matthew Kivell aside! The crowd gasps in unison as Dragon stutter steps forward, trying to catch Kibagami off his guard with a superkick, but the Silent One dodges the masked man’s boot by the smallest of margins and spins behind his opponent, hooking the Brit’s outstretched leg with his left arm! Kibagami pulls Dragon’s leg back up to his body, reaches around the smaller man with his right arm to lock hands with his left, and heaves backwards, spiking the English Dragon on his head with a picture-perfect cradle suplex!

 

O

N

E

!

 

T

W

O

!

 

T

H

R

E

E

!

 

 

 

 

NO!

 

The European champion barely manages to kick out of the devastating suplex, and the North Dakota fans deflate ever so slightly as Kivell raises two fingers to illustrate the point. The Silent One backs away from his opponent, obviously preparing for something as the English Dragon shakily gets to his feet. The bitter Brit shakes his head slightly, trying to clear the cobwebs, as he turns to face his opponent…and sees Kibagami barreling towards him, about to connect with a Burning Lariat!

 

“Damn it, Dragon, watch out!”

 

Thinking quickly, the masked man drops his head and wraps his arms around Kibagami’s waist, taking him down with a sloppy Northern Lights suplex and narrowly avoiding the detachment of his head from his shoulders!

 

O

N

E

!

 

T

W

O

!

 

Nathaniel rolls his shoulder up off the mat, breaking the count and drawing a small pop from the fans. Dragon quickly grabs a handful of Kibagami’s hair and pulls him to his feet, hoping to gain an advantage before the larger man can get his bearings. Dragon tilts the Silent One’s head up before unleashing a barrage of knife-edged chops…

 

SLAP! (WHOO!)

 

”Why do they do that, Bobby?”

 

SLAP! (WHOO!)

 

“What do you mean?”

 

SLAP! (WHOO!)

 

“That chant. The ‘whoo’ thing.”

 

“I’m not sure. I’ve never been able to figure it out, myself.”

 

SLAP! (WHOO!)

 

The English Dragon pauses, a little disconcerted by the total lack of effect his strikes are having on his opponent, before rearing back and delivering another chop…

 

BAM!

 

…only to be stopped dead in his tracks by a hard elbow strike to the side of the head! Not one to waste time, Kibagami grabs hold of the masked man’s arm and whips him across the ring. Dragon bounces off the ropes and comes hurtling back, only to be unceremoniously tossed over the top rope by the Silent One and into the arms of his surprised butler, much to the delight of the Kingdome!

 

”Citizen Nathaniel is simply manhandling that unfortunate denizen of the criminal underworld!”

 

“Dragon’s just waiting to pick his spot a little more carefully, Comet, that’s all. He’s noted for his composure in the ring – he’ll roll with the punches until he finds an opening.”

 

Robertson carefully sets his employer down, his expression totally unreadable; he steps slowly to the side, idly fidgeting with the brass knuckles he carries in one massive hand. Dragon dusts himself off, muttering something about “bloody Yanks” as he looks up towards the apron, where –

 

CRACK!

 

Kibagami slides through the ropes with a stiff dropkick, knocking the European champion back into the barrier separating the fans from ringside! Kibagami releases the top rope and lands deftly on his feet before making a small, sardonic bow and wiping his feet on the floor – a rare acknowledgement of the fans from the Silent One! The fans pop like a cherry on prom night (Copyright Tom Flesher, 2002, all rights reserved.) at the gesture, and Nathan actually cracks a slight smile as they do!

 

“Truly, citizen Nathaniel is a man of the people! A man of tact and class! I would go so far as to call him a man…of JUSTICE –“

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

BAM!

 

“What?!?!? What sort of criminal activity is this?!?”

 

Kibagami topples to the floor, nearly unconscious, and the English Dragon’s behemoth of a butler stands over him, brass knuckles in hand! The crowd boos Robertson unanimously as he tucks the weapon back into his coat pocket and turns around…into a VERY angry Matthew Kivell! The ring mics don’t quite pick up the heated exchange of words between the two men, but the wildly gesturing Kivell makes it VERY clear that Robertson is being ejected from ringside! The big man raises his voice as his makes his way back up the entrance ramp, hurling a choice selection of verbiage at Matthew Kivell, but the cheers from the fans completely drown him out as he exits stage left! Satisfied, Kivell turns his attention back to the legal participants in the match, as the English Dragon picks a half-conscious Kibagami up by the hair and pulls him over towards the steel steps.

 

“What? C’mon, ref! That’s not fair! He was just doing his job! He was just butlering, Kivell!”

 

”Silence, Riley! Do not let your criminal impulses get the better of you! I rather admire the referee’s decision – instead of disqualifying the miscreant outright and staining this prestigious tournament with a tainted victory in the very first round, he’s allowing the match to continue in the hopes that Nathaniel can overcome the odds that have just been stacked against him!”

 

CLANG!

 

Riley snickers to himself as the masked man drives the Silent One’s leg down onto the steel steps with a vicious knee breaker! “I think those odds just got a little bit longer, Comet!”

 

CLANG!

 

“Ooooo! That’s gotta hurt.”

 

Comet just shakes his head. “There truly is no hope for you, Bobby. I fear you are destined for a life of crime, poorly camouflaged homosexuality, and more crime.”

 

“What?!? When Mark left I thought I…that was supposed you…damn it, you’re wearing spandex and you’re calling me…” Riley sputters with anger, and Comet, a satisfied smile on his face, takes a long swig of his Pepsi MAX©.

 

The crowd boos the European champion resoundingly as he rolls Nathaniel back into the ring, and the boos somehow get even louder as the bitter Brit wipes his feet on the apron before climbing through the ropes. Kibagami clutches his battered right leg – he’s in no condition to fend off the kicks that the English Dragon begins raining on his injured leg and thigh!

 

”This turn of events could spell disaster for citizen Nathaniel, Bobby! His kicks are an integral part of his offense – what happens when this…this criminal,” spits Comet, “removes that offense from the match entirely?”

 

Bobby grins repulsively at his co-announcer as Dragon drops an elbow on the pit of Kibagami’s right knee on their monitors. “I’ll tell you what happens, Comet. Dragon focuses on that injured leg, locks in St. George’s Cross in the center of the ring, and advances to the winner’s bracket! This is our upset of the night, my shirt-shilling friend, just like I told you.”

 

Dragon grabs hold of Kibagami’s leg and quickly somersaults over it, snapping the Silent One’s hamstring forward in a direction it was decidedly not meant to be snapped. The fans in the Kingdome wince in sympathy as Nathaniel’s hand shoots to his thigh – he’s obviously injured, or close to it. The masked man drags the former Clansman over to the ropes by his injured leg and rests it on the bottom rope. Dragon puts one foot on the second rope, propels himself into the air, and brings his left knee down onto Kibagami’s unprotected thigh! Nathaniel rolls towards the center of the ring, trying desperately to buy himself some time to recuperate, but the European champion smells blood in the water and stalks his prey back to the center of the ring.

 

Dragon picks up Nathaniel’s left leg and begins to turn, looking for his trademark figure-four leglock, but Kibagami sees it coming and kicks the masked man away, though he winces a little as he does so. Dragon staggers forward but manages to stop before he reaches the ropes…but he is surprised to find his legs swept out from underneath him as he comes to a stop, and the European champion crashes hard to the mat!

 

”Beautiful leg sweep from citizen Nathaniel! He’s always one step ahead, Bobby – just like any superhero should be.”

 

Kibagami slowly rises to his feet, taking care not to put too much of his body weight on his right leg, before dropping an elbow hard into Dragon’s chest! The bitter Brit rolls out onto the apron and uses the ropes to pull himself to his feet as the Silent One determinedly returns to a vertical base. Nathaniel takes a moment to steady himself before charging (as best he can charge with an injured right leg) towards his opponent…but the English Dragon grabs hold of the middle rope and dives between it and the bottom rope feet-first, knocking the former Clansman’s right leg out from under him with a hard dropkick!

 

“Innovative maneuver from the European champion,” notes Riley as the masked man pulls Kibagami back into the center of the ring. “Perhaps he doesn’t need any butlering after all.”

 

”I don’t believe ‘butlering’ is a word, chum.”

 

”Look, did I ask you for any help? I’ll say what I want to say, thank you very much.”

 

“I doubt you’ll find much use for it as a catchphrase, either.”

 

The European champion flips Nathaniel onto his back, ignoring the jeers and catcalls from the crowd as he applies St. George’s Cross! Kibagami immediately grits his teeth and starts rocking back and forth, trying his best to reverse the pressure and the hold, but it soon becomes apparent that his leg is too injured and Dragon is too tenacious for that to happen! Slowly, ever so slowly, he begins the process of clawing his way towards the ropes – there’s no other way for him to break the hold, and his strength is fading fast. The crowd senses this, and the entire Kingdome is quick to get behind the former Clansman:

 

KI-BA-GAM-I! *clap, clap, clapclapclap*

KI-BA-GAM-I! *clap, clap, clapclapclap*

KI-BA-GAM-I! *clap, clap, clapclapclap*

KI-BA-GAM-I! *clap, clap, clapclapclap*

 

“The fans are really getting behind citizen Nathaniel here, Riley!”

 

”Bah. They’re welcome to get behind whoever they want – it’s not like it affects the outcome of the match.”

 

Frustrated by the Silent One’s progress, the bitter Brit begins to pull him back towards the center of the ring…but just as he does so, Kibagami’s hand closes on the bottom rope, much to the delight of the crowd! Kivell administers the five-count to a vehemently cursing English Dragon….

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

THREE!

 

FOUR!

 

FI – Dragon reluctantly breaks the hold and rises to his feet. Kivell drops to the canvas to check on Nathaniel – only to be shoved away by the English Dragon, who rains a veritable hail of kicks and stomps down on his opponent’s right leg!

 

”What a dastardly assault! The referee is simply trying to do his job and ensure that no permanent damage is done to the man!”

 

”Hey, Dragon broke the hold at the five-count. That’s all he’s reeeeeally required to do, you know.”

 

The masked man pulls Kibagami away from the ropes, his frustration readily apparent. The bitter Brit pulls the larger man to his feet by the hair, cinches in a waistlock, and drives the Silent One to the mat once again with a hard backdrop suplex! Kibagami crashes to the canvas with a thud, and the English Dragon quickly skitters around to his opponent’s head, where he locks in a Dragon sleeper! The North Dakota fans begin a small “boring” chant near the front row as the European champion wrenches back on the hold, trying to work Nathaniel’s famously injured neck and obtain a submission victory.

 

“The English Dragon has this match well in hand, Comet. Uncross your fingers and try to be professional.”

 

”Oh, ye of little faith! I have seen citizen Nathaniel come back from much more vicious assaults than this and still emerge victorious! Don’t count your chickens before the fat lady sings, Bobby. This match isn’t over yet!”

 

Back in the ring, Kivell checks the Silent One for a submission, and the former Clansman responds with a resounding no! Finally starting to lose his composure slightly, the English Dragon pulls Kibagami to his feet, but maintains the Dragon sleeper, now torquing the back in addition to the neck. He holds this position for a long moment before letting his legs fall out from underneath him, driving Kibagami into the canvas with his own Dragon DDT! The crowd’s boos reach a new height as the masked man hooks Nathaniel’s leg for the cover!

 

O

N

E

!

 

T

W

O

!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THREE!

 

 

 

 

 

NO!

 

”Kibagami gets his shoulder up JUST in the nick of time! My breath caught in my throat that time, chum – how much more can Nathaniel possibly have left in the tank?”

 

”Not very much, Comet. He’s running on fumes now – Dragon’s actually toying with him, using Kibagami’s own moves against him. That’s a VERY risky thing to do most of the time, but I think he’s gained himself a solid advantage thanks to his tenacity with that leg injury.”

 

The masked man rises to his feet, his emotions under control once again, and drags Kibagami towards the turnbuckles. Letting the larger man lie motionless near the ropes, Dragon quickly climbs to the top rope, facing the crowd. A quick look behind him confirms that Kibagami is still lying on the mat…and the English Dragon flips backwards off of the top rope and towards his opponent!

 

”Hah! The criminal has overshot citizen Nathaniel with that moonsault!”

 

”That’s not a moonsault, Comet….”

 

BAM!

 

”That’s Dragon Air! Turn off the lights, this party’s over!”

 

O

N

E

!

 

T

W

O

!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Kibagami kicks out.

 

“What the hell was that?!?” yells Riley over the roar of the crowd. “Kivell counted slow! Kivell must have counted slow! He did NOT just kick out of that move!”

 

“Oh, indeed he did, Bobby! Indeed he did!” The fans begin to buzz amongst themselves as Dragon argues the count with Kivell…oblivious to the fact that his opponent is slowly getting to his feet. “Methinks the criminal Englishman made a mistake using citizen Nathaniel’s own move against him. Nathaniel seems…um…angry.”

 

Frustrated with Kivell, the European champion turns back to his fallen opponent…only to discover that his fallen opponent is now on his feet! Frantic, Dragon begins kicking away at Kibagami’s right leg, and sure enough, the larger man waivers under the assault, and finally stumbles back a step to avoid further injury! The masked man, interpreting this as a sign of weakness, grabs hold of Kibagami’s left arm and attempts to whip him into the turnbuckle –

 

BAM!

 

-- but the Silent One reverses the whip and absolutely FLOORS the smaller man with a devastating Burning Lariat! Nathaniel collapses to his knees alongside a dazed English Dragon…and much to the crowd’s delight, he removes a small black marker from his boot.

 

“Oh, dear. I do believe citizen Nathaniel has something rather criminal in mind.”

 

”Damn it! Kivell, take that away from him! He’s going to deface the ring!”

 

”Sadly, Bobby, it is not against the rules for him to do so. All criminals are punished sooner or later, you know, and I think we’re about to see the English Dragon receive his…”

 

Kibagami draws a quick black “X” next to his boot before stashing the marker back inside his boot. He hobbles to his feet…only to have the smaller man clip his right knee out from under him from behind! Nathaniel stumbles forward, catching himself on the ropes with one hand – the other shoots right to his leg. The crowd boos as Dragon staggers to his feet, obviously still feeling the effects of the Burning Lariat he received moments prior.

 

“The criminal eludes JUSTICE for the time being, but this reprieve will only make his final punishment that much more…more punishing!” pronounces Comet.

 

The bitter Brit sees Kibagami on the ropes, facing the crowd, and takes his shot, running at Nathaniel’s back full speed –

 

BAM!

 

--and is stopped by a reverse elbow strike!

 

BAM!

 

“ROLLING ELBOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOW!” yells the spandex-clad wonder, and Dragon drops like a stone to the mat! Kibagami grabs one of the masked man’s legs and drags him over to the “X” before picking him up by the mask. The Silent One quickly lifts the smaller man into position for the Demonstar – though he stumbles once or twice, losing his balance thanks to his injured leg – and checks to make sure he’s centered on his target…

 

“Damn it, Kivell, what happened to preventing serious injury?!?”

 

”Well, Michael Craven walked away from the Demonstar…barely,” grins Comet. “Maybe this criminal can do the same…maybe…”

 

BAM!

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

THREE!

 

DING DING DING!!

 

“Your winner by pinfall…NATHANIEL KIBAAAAAAGAMI!”

 

A thoroughly tired and sore Nathaniel briefly raises his arms as “The River Dragon Has Come” hits the speakers, then hobbles his way out of the ring and back up the entrance ramp. Matthew Kivell is left alone in the ring, trying in vain to rouse the English Dragon – who is still breathing, coincidentally.

 

“Citizen Nathaniel fells another villain with the Demonstar Driver! Though I must be honest with you, chum: this British character did impress me greatly. Perhaps he obtained his advantage through underhanded means, but he did maintain it for some time with one of the most dangerous men in the federation. Perhaps there is some hope for that one, after all.”

 

“I don’t know for the life of me how he got up from that damn headbutt,” mutters Riley. “He’s supposed to be crippled and past his prime, damn it.”

 

”It seems that citizen Kibagami has reserves we were previously unaware of,” ventures Cyclone Comet. “Surely there’s no other way he could recover from such a through thrashing.”

 

“Of course. You’re probably right, Comet. He just wanted to win this match, that’s all.” Riley looks a little unsure of himself, however, as he watches Kibagami make his way past the announce table. “Well, perhaps these two will meet again later in the tournament – Dragon drops into the loser’s bracket, but he’s not out of the tournament yet! Stay tuned, ladies and gentlemen – we have a lot more ground to cover tonight on this special three-hour edition of SWF Lockdown! Don’t go away!”

 

The camera gets one last shot of Kibagami standing atop the entrance ramp, his back to the audience, before starwiping out to a commercial…

[Kaertos 0]

The SWF returns to the heelish Kingdome centered in the middle of North Dakota. The camera quickly pans the excited crowd, as they are ready for the next round of the Genesis tournament to continue.

 

Comet: “Welcome back to Lockdown, it is I, the great Cyclone Comet alongside Bobby 'My underpants are too tight' Riley.”

 

Riley: “This coming from the man who wore his underwear outside of his outfit for the better half of his professional career?”

 

Comet: “But at least it's not too tight. Anyway coming up folks is the always vicious and brutal Jamie Drazon, as he will go up against “The Sinner” John Duran.”

 

Riley: “Duran has two big wins in the SWF, while Jamie Drazon has been taking his share of ups and downs. It's not often that I say this, but I don't think Drazon has the desire for this match, even with the SWF gold on the line. Duran might take him apart.”

 

Comet: “I disagree. Drazon has been around since even the days when I competed. There is nobody who knows the rings better then him in this league. If Drazon pleases... well if you ask me... he'll put that sinner in his place.”

 

Riley: “Maybe... we will see.”

 

Shortly after Riley's sentence, the tune of "Sinner" by the Drowning Pool thunders over the speakers as John Duran comes out, intensely staring at the crowd as they boo him, grimacing in anger as he walks down towards the ring.

 

Funyon: “The following is match number four in the tournament for the SWF World Heavyweight Championship! Introducing first... he hails from Champaign Illinois... he stands at Six feet Eight inches and weighs in at 265 pounds! He is the SINNER... JOHN DURAN!!!”

 

The crowd continues to boo as the man is announced. Duran flashes a shit eating grin towards the crowd, which pisses them off extremely as Duran flips them the middle finger. Duran gets up on the apron and enters the ring, going to the center of the ring and raising his arms, anger and hate apparent in his eyes, before going to the corner and awaiting the arrival of Drazon.

 

Comet: “Duran had an impressive debut last week at our Ground Zero pay per view... and also picked up a solid win over the Canadian Intelligence Agent. Two big clean wins have given this youngster some momentum to build on.”

 

The lights suddenly drop as the audience gasps. Moments later, thousands of fireworks explode around the arena, rafters and entrance ramp… creating heavy sparks as they illuminate the arena.

 

 

"THIS

 

 

IS

 

 

MAH

 

 

HOUSE!!"

 

The lungs of Jamie Drazon show their power tonight as his voice echoes through the arena. In time, the heavy beats of Rammstein's 'Du Haste' play without the lyrics... thundering around the arena. The audience gives a mixed, but surprisingly more positive reaction as Jay Dawg steps through the curtains, his head down. He walks to the top of the ramp, slowly raising his head to make a glare towards John Duran, before lowering his head once more. Duran replies with a flip of the middle finger, however that only puts the smile without good intentions onto the face of JD.

 

Funyon: “And his opponent! He hails from Vancouver, British Columbia! He stands at Six feet four inches and weighs in at 243 pounds! The hardcore maniac… JAMIE ‘JAY DAWG’ DRAZON!!!”

 

Drazon slides into the ring under the announcement of his name, and coldly looks forward to the Sinner. Drazon turns his neck slowly to the left, then slowly to the right, letting his neck muscles pop into shape for the match.

 

Comet: “The vicious hardcore brute vs the vicious hardcore brute! No doubt about it, the vicious hardcore brute will win this battle!”

 

Riley: “It’s like Freddy vs Jason!”

 

Comet: “What!? Do these guys look like slasher freaks!?” pauses for a second… “Well maybe Duran.”

 

Drazon looks towards Duran, his eyes closed as usual however the stare is still there. The ref calls for the bell, and with no hesitation, Duran charges straight for Drazon. Going with the element of surprise, Duran drives his shoulder right into Drazon’s mid-section with a spear…. But Drazon rolls through, places his feet into Duran’s chest and flips him over his body with a monkey flip. Drazon rolls on top of Duran, raises his open right hand, and powerfully drives it down into Duran’s forehead with a shotei!

 

Riley: “Owe! No wonder Drazon didn’t move!”

 

Comet: “Duran started off his last match with the element of surprise… I think he just got surprised there!”

 

Drazon grabs a hold of the jet black hair and yanks the Sinner to his feet. However his ribs immediately eat a right hook courtesy of John Duran. Drazon fires back with a headbutt, knocking a few brain cells out of both men. Duran absorbs the blow enough to hammer his knee into Drazon’s abdomen. Winded, Drazon doubles over into Duran’s arms and is promptly Irish whipped to the ropes. A rebound back and Duran steps hard into Drazon with a shoulderblock. Drazon takes the blow stumbling in reverse and backs into the corner.

 

Comet: “Duran is showing that he wants the title and if Drazon wants to get by him, he’s in for a fight!”

 

Riley: “I think Drazon looks forward to a fight!”

 

Duran steps into the corner and proceeds to pummel Drazon with some hard body shots. Drazon takes five solid blows before getting his arms up to block them. Johnny keeps swinging, hoping to break through Drazon’s defenses. Drazon grabs a hold of Duran’s neck and brings him inward, preventing him from swinging. Drazon uses the leverage to spin around, throwing Duran into the corner. Drazon lets his right shoulder drop a bit, before throwing his entire arm upward in an uppercut fashion, however he drives the point of his elbow into the jaw of Johnny D! Spit flies from the mouth of Duran as he absorbs the excruciatingly painful forearm blast.

 

Comet: “JEEZ! Drazon not only hits you hard, but in places that you’re guaranteed to feel it for weeks!”

 

Drazon drops his shoulder again, winding up. Duran, not wanting to take another, dives into Drazon, tackling him down to the ground. Drazon tries to brace his fall, but is not prepared enough and hits the mat hard. Duran pounces to his feet and instantly drops an elbow into Drazon’s heart. Drazon grabs his breastplate for a second before rolling to his hands and knees. Duran pops to his feet and hits the ropes while Drazon starts to return to his vertical position. Spotting Duran rebounding off the ropes, Drazon grins and fires his right leg out for a roundhouse kick…

 

Comet: “Duran ducks below the Thai roundhouse!”

 

As Drazon spins around from his kick, he spots Duran standing before him. He doesn’t spot the forearm, which clobbers him in the side of the head. Duran quickly pulls Drazon into a front facelock and throws his spare arm over his shoulder. John D proceeds to hurl Drazon over his head and down into the mat with a vertical suplex. Duran floats over, placing his forearm over Drazon’s face to hold him down…

 

One…

 

Drazon latches his arm underneath of Duran’s shoulder. With a sudden twist, Duran slams facefirst into the mat with Drazon beside him and painfully leaning into his arm with a fujiwara armbar. His spare hand grips into the mat as he feels the painful wrenching on his shoulder and elbow.

 

Comet: “Ouch! Too early for the cover I see!”

 

Using his muscle, Duran pushes himself up slightly and slides his right arm under his left, pushing the elbow up a bit to relieve the pressure. Drazon grins as he releases the hold, but not the arm. Instead he opts to twist it into the mat, holding it there and through the leverage, Duran down as well. Drazon raises his knee and quickly pounds it into the cranium of Duran.

 

Riley: “Dammit Drazon! Show some mercy!”

 

Comet: “I don’t think Drazon knows the meaning of that word.”

 

After driving another knee into the back of Duran’s dome, Drazon releases him, and the Sinner quickly rolls outside to safety and for a breather. In the ring, Drazon chuckles as Duran rubs his head. The ref starts to count, but Drazon cuts him off quickly, pushing him away as he charges off the ropes. Rebounding hard, Drazon dashes for what looks to be his time to fly… except Duran sees him and instantly bails! Drazon lets himself run into the ropes chest first and hooks his arms under the top rope for a brace. Drazon points to his head, letting the crowd see how intelligent he thinks he is.

 

Comet: “That suicidal dive, what looks to be what Drazon was about to do, cost him a match with Frost a few weeks ago. You can bet if he went for it and missed, it’d probably leave a big handicap for this match as well!”

 

Drazon slides under the ropes and to the outside, looking to stalk the Sinner as he starts to walk furthers and further away from Drazon. Coldly looking forward, Drazon slowly walks as Duran scrambles around the ring.

 

Comet: “I think Duran wants to sucker Drazon in… as intimidating as Drazon can be, I highly doubt Duran running hear is a sign of fear… well… Maybe a little.”

 

Suddenly, as Duran passes the announce table, he grabs a hold of the coffee cup of whichever announcer has coffee.

 

Riley: “Hey! My coffee!”

 

Ok, Riley’s coffee. Duran hurls the mug straight at Drazon! JD smacks the mug away but is still splashed with the hot coffee. Drazon stops dead in his tracks, looking at his body covered in the coffee. His pants stained, his body already warmed up from the match, now even hotter. He opens his eyes as he looks straight at Duran. Shaking his head as the camera gets a close up.

 

“You did NOT just do that.”

 

Drazon charges straight for the Sinner, diving right for him, but is suckered into a drop toehold…

 

CLANG

 

Facefirst right into the steel steps! Drazon grabs his mouth as he feels the sudden, sharp pain shoot through his body. The crowd roars out their displeasure, as Duran confidently stands tall. Pulling his hand from his mouth, Drazon spots a tiny pool of blood in the palm of his hand. Duran grabs a hold of Drazon’s hair and yanks him to his feet, then places him on the steps. Drazon sits in a drug like trance, as Duran takes a half step back, before thrusting forward with a brutal superkick…

 

SMACK

 

Knocking Drazon backward off the steps and down to the ground. Duran rotates his shoulders quickly, letting the bones pop right as the crowd continues to boo him. The ref, trying to control Duran finally gives up on it and starts to count the two men out. Duran is calm though, letting Drazon slowly stagger to his feet. Upon reaching a vertical base, Duran charges for Drazon and hammers him hard with a running forearm. Drazon takes the blow and drops down to one knee, and is quickly brought into a front facelock.

 

Comet: “Duran brought the momentum into his favor, and Drazon is paying dearly for it now!”

 

“FOUR!!” shouts the ref as Duran holds JD for a second.

 

“FIVE!!”

 

Spiking him hard into the outside mat with a DDT!

 

“SIX!!”

 

Duran gets up, ready to step into the ring, when he looks down at JD.

 

“SEVEN!!”

 

Duran shakes his head and pulls Drazon to his feet and rolls him into the ring.

 

Riley: “Dammit Duran! You had it won!”

 

Comet: “I think he wants to pin JD… if he can!”

 

Duran makes the cover, smothering Drazon’s entire upper body with his chest and hooking the leg.

 

ONE…

 

 

 

TWO…

 

 

 

Drazon raises his right shoulder and part of Duran as well with the kickout. The crowd cheers as Drazon shows he’s not even close to done yet.

 

Comet: “No dice yet! This battle is still going!”

 

Duran looks at the ref, slapping his hands to encourage the ref to move faster next time. Duran grabs Drazon and pulls him to his feet, however Drazon snaps to life, and smokes Duran with a double shotei to each one of his shoulders! Taking a step back from the blows, Duran retaliates with a right hand… but JD catches it! In the blink of an eye, JD ducks and spins 180, before leveling Duran in the jaw with a reverse spinkick! Duran drops to the mat and rolls away from the immediate area. Drazon stays standing, trying to shake out the cobwebs in his brain. Duran gets to his feet as Drazon tries to shake the dazedness away.

 

Comet: “Two attacks from Drazon, but the damage has been done! He’s unable to capitalize at the moment!”

 

Regaining enough composure to spot Duran, Drazon charges for him, but the quick thinking Duran catches the running JD and powerslams him into the mat before he even knows what hit him! Duran hooks the leg as Drazon lies down in pain...

 

ONE…

 

 

 

 

 

TWO…

 

 

 

 

 

THR… Drazon kicks out!

 

Duran takes a small breath before looking up at the ref with a glare. Duran pulls Drazon up and walks him to the corner. Reaching down to hoist Drazon up onto the top turnbuckle, but Drazon starts to struggle, locking onto Duran’s arms. Letting Drazon return to the mat, Duran breaks free of his grip and hits him hard in the jaw with a right hand. Drazon’s head snaps to the let from the blow and a fountain of blood spews from his mouth. Duran raises his boot and places it over Drazon’s head with a boot choke. The ref gives Duran shit for the hold, but Duran ignores him and says ‘count.’

 

“One”

 

 

“Two”

 

 

“Three”

 

 

“Four”

 

Duran releases, only to do the same move again. Aggravating the referee, but nothing is done about it. Except the count of course.

 

“One”

 

 

“Two”

 

 

“Three”

 

 

“DING”

 

Drazon boots the Sinner right in the junk!

 

Riley: “Hey! Illegal! Illegal!”

 

Duran’s eyes roll into the back of his head, getting one final look at the referee who simply shrugs his shoulders. The audience explodes into cheers as Duran gets some of his karma.

 

Comet: “Something tells me the ref is gonna let that one go.”

 

Attempting to absorb the agonizing pain, Duran tries to keep his balance. Drazon cracks his shoulders and neck, then walks out of the corner. Drazon sets up for a uranage suplex, but cradles the leg of Duran. With one throw, he launches Duran involuntarily to the center of the ring with a T-Bone suplex. Taking a seat on the mat, Drazon wipes off his mouth, getting a small stream of blood and wipes it on the mat. He crawls over to Duran and makes his first cover of the evening.

 

ONE…

 

 

 

TWO….

 

 

 

Duran kicks out strong. Drazon raises his right fist and like a hammer, pounds it down into the forehead of Duran. Drazon makes another cover.

 

ONE…

 

 

 

TWO…

 

 

 

T…. Duran kicks out again.

 

Comet: “I doubt Drazon expected a win off that second fall! Looks like he just wanted to show Duran that he can pin him anytime he wishes.”

 

Riley: “Pin maybe… one two three… doubt it.”

 

Drazon returns to his feet, bringing Duran with him. Turning his back to the corner, Drazon latches onto Duran’s wrist and viciously throws him to the corner sternum first! Duran rocks the corner in pain as Drazon follows him in, splashing him from behind. The crowd begins to cheer as the Hardcore Maniac pulls the Sinner out of the corner, grapevining his leg and side headlocking him. Not wanting to be a victim to the Russian leg sweep, Duran fires two hard elbows into Drazon’s mid-section. Drazon doubles over as the sudden blows wind him, and Duran fires him into the ropes. Drazon bounces back, and easily ducks the clothesline waiting for him. Going off the opposite ropes, Drazon ricochets off them and dives straight for John Duran… only to be caught in mid air, and viciously slammed into the mat with a spinebuster! Duran knows the opportunity is there and pounces on top of JD for the cover.

 

 

ONE…

 

 

 

 

 

TWO…

 

 

 

 

 

 

THREE…NOOO!!! Drazon gets a shoulder up and coughs out some of his pain.

 

Comet: “A vicious spinebuster by John Duran caught Drazon offguard and almost put him down for good!”

 

Riley: “Only a matter of time now!”

 

Duran pulls Drazon to his feet and into a standing headscissors. Letting his head drop and arms rise in the crucifix position, the crowd boos out loud as Duran intends to finish the battle. John reaches down and wraps his arms tightly around Drazon’s waist. He starts to lift, but only grunts, as Drazon won’t move. He raises his right arm to hammer into Drazon’s spine, but the second he raises his arm, he’s instantly rolled up with a small package.

 

 

ONE…

 

 

 

TWO…

 

 

 

 

THREE…NOO!! Duran barely escapes the surprising close call!

 

Comet: “Drazon just about stole that victory!”

 

Duran gets up and is none too happy. Making a dash for JD as he makes it to his knees, and creams him in the side of the face with a knee strike!

 

Comet: “Ouch! A cousin of the Shining Wizard!”

 

Another blood loogie flies from Drazon’s mouth as he is brought to his feet. Duran tries a different method and locks Drazon into a full nelson.

 

Comet: “Drazon was able to counter the Ultimate Sin. Will he escape the Break Point?”

 

Duran starts to lift Drazon up with the full nelson bomb, but Drazon latches his ankles around the back of Duran’s kneecaps. Duran doesn’t want to drop JD though, holding him in the full nelson as he hangs in the air. Stuck in the vulnerable position, Drazon hangs off of Duran in a full nelson. The facial expression on Drazon’s face combined with the current positioning of the two men almost looks like a prison rape. Drazon hollers in pain some more before Duran finally tires out.

 

Comet: “That had to hurt!”

 

Riley: “Duran was suspending Drazon in the air while Drazon was trying to take his legs out!”

 

Drazon lands on his feet and slips in behind Duran so they are back to back, grabbing hold of Duran’s arms and wraps them over his throat. Drazon spins both men around so they are face to face and uses the leverage of the arms to pull Duran into a cross-armed headscissors! Drazon instantly leaps into the air for the JD’s Revenge… but keeps on going as Duran launches him with the back body drop! Drazon bounces off the mat hard and lies flat out on the ground, his body in a cataleptic state.

 

Riley: “Drazon may have countered two finishers, but he got greedy and flattened!”

 

The audience in their mix reactions of cheering and booing at the random spurts of offense from both men. Once more settling on the negative reaction as they dish it out to John Duran. The Sinner invites the boos as he knows they won’t stop until…

 

 

 

Jay Dawg sits up.

 

The audience explodes into cheers as the Hardcore Maniac returns to his feet with his eyes wide open. Glaring at The Sinner, giving him an extremely uneasy feeling. Duran stands up to it though, and rushes to JD, grabbing him and throwing him straight into the corner! But Drazon explodes out of the corner with his right leg extending quickly…

 

CRACK

 

Leveling the Sinner with a kick to the head! The crowd goes nuts as John Duran starts spinning in circles. Drazon steps behind the out on his feet John Duran and wraps him up tight with a waistlock, only to hurl him over his head with a German suplex! Duran’s body folds up like an accordion as Drazon rolls onto his chest. Onto his knees, Drazon rolls Duran’s legs over his head so he is kneeling as well, and pulls him into a standing headscissors. Drazon’s eyes roll into the back of his head as he lifts Duran up off the mat, before sitting out with a piledriver, spiking the head into the mat.

 

Comet: “Ouch! That was a chain of offense!”

 

Riley: “Poor Duran!”

 

Comet: “That should be all!”

 

Drazon rolls over and makes the cover.

 

ONE…

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO…

 

 

 

 

 

 

THREEEEENOOO!!!

 

Duran gets a shoulder up to the shock of everyone in the arena! Drazon rolls his eyes back into his head as he pulls Duran to his feet. Suddenly he grabs Drazon by his pants and pulls him into a schoolboy rollup, holding the tights for extra leverage.

 

 

ONE…

 

 

 

 

 

TWO….

 

 

 

 

 

 

THREE…NO!! Drazon barely escapes the near defeat.

 

Getting up a little more angered Drazon fires Duran into the ropes. A bounce back and Drazon ducks down, only for Duran to underhook his arms and plant him into the mat with a double arm DDT!

 

Comet: “There’s a Kobashi DDT! Good time to turn the momentum!”

 

Exhausted, Duran rolls over for the cover. He drapes his arm over the chest of JD, crawling over as he hooks the leg as well, his hair-sopping wet.

 

ONE….

 

 

 

 

 

TWO….

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THREENOOO!!! Drazon gets the shoulder up. The crowd cheers for Drazon’s resilience as Duran shakes his head. He slits his thumb over his throat, announcing this next one will do it. The crowd boos loudly at Duran as he starts to pull Drazon to his feet.

 

Comet: “A close call for John Duran!”

 

Riley: “Yeah! But now he’s looking for the final call!”

 

Duran pulls Drazon into a standing headscissors. However Jay Dawg powers out, lifting Duran up off the mat to a big pop, only to collapse backward… and stunning Duran over the top rope with a stun gun!

 

Riley: “Oh no!”

 

Duran rebounds off the rope, gagging as he tries desperately to catch his breath. He pauses gagging long enough to see two middle fingers right in his face. Before Duran knows exactly what is up, Drazon locks him in a ¾ nelson facelock and sits right out with the stunner! John drops down to his knees, ready to just collapse if his body shifts the right way, however he is presently balanced due to his positioning from the fall. Drazon lets out his bloody, sadistic grin for the crowd to see as he explodes towards the ropes… ricocheting off with massive momentum, Drazon springboards off of Duran’s left knee, and kicks him straight in the head with the…

 

Comet: “THE SHINING BLACK!!!!!!”

 

Duran passes out on the mat as Drazon puts him on his back. The crowd roaring out with cheers as Drazon hooks the leg.

 

 

ONE…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!

 

Comet: “Drazon did it!”

 

‘Du haste’ hits the speakers as the crowd continues to applaud Drazon’s victory. The ref raises the hand as Funyon makes the announcement.

 

Funyon: “The winner of this match via pinfall! Jamie ‘Jay Dawg’ Drazon!!!”

 

Comet: “It took a bit of time for Drazon to snap to life, but damn, after nailing the Shining Black, he was finally able to put John Duran down for three!”

 

Riley: “That son of a bitch!”

 

Comet: “Well the winner of Apostle vs. Crow will go on to face this man! Who do you think will like that!?”

 

Riley: “I don’t think anybody likes facing JD!”

 

Drazon wipes a little more blood from his mouth as the crowd is still cheering. He looks down at the unconscious Duran and makes a twist with his neck, as the SWF’s speakers magnify the popping of it into place.

 

Comet: “A solid victory for Jamie Drazon! This tournament is shaping up to be a doozy!”

 

Riley: “It sure is! Let’s hope next whoever makes it to the end makes the Boston Bitch squeal like a pig!”

 

Comet: “You know rumor has it, TBS is gonna make you his bitch someday in the shower.”

 

Riley: “Die.”

 

Comet: “Never!”

 

Drazon exits the ring and walks up the isle with his arms raised.

 

Comet: “Stay tuned folks! We have much more coming up!”

 

Fade to commercial.

[Kaertos 0]

Heading into the next match, the SmarkTron suddenly blips to life to show Ben Hardy standing in front of the entranceway curtain, a small smile across his face.

 

“I’m here awaiting one of the Junior League wrestlers, The Apostle, as he comes here for his upcoming match against former SJL Heavyweight Champion and what some would call one of the most hardcore wrestlers ever to set foot in the SWF…the Antichrist Superstar that is Crow.” Ben rattles off in metronomic time before the Apostle walks into frame, looking somewhat nervous, but with a smile on his face.

 

“Apostle, you were invited here tonight to show off your skills in this match that could very well be the first step in getting an SWF Heavyweight Title shot…how do you feel right now?” Ben shoves the microphone in the Apostle’s face, causing him to push it away and look into the camera, his face glowing for all the world to see.

 

“Well, Ben…when I first heard the news I could not believe that I would picked to come up here and show my stuff…but then I remembered who I was. I’m not some average garbage wrestler or some bland flash in the pan superstar…no…I’m the Apostle of the SJL. I bring those fans the answers…I bring them the truth…and I bring fury to all of those I face in any ring I face them in. It’s only fitting that the man I am facing tonight…I’ve been compared to. I’ve heard officials and some of the older wrestlers talk about how much I reminded them of Crow…I felt a lot of respect toward that…but-“

 

The Apostle is cut off in mid-sentence by the Antichrist Superstar himself, who interjects himself between Ben and Apostle and smiles at the camera…his hair partially obscuring his face as he talks and smokes a pre-match cigarette.

 

“Okay. So I’m standing right over there, around the corner…trying to get ready for my match…and I hear you over here talking about how people compare you to me and I just start laughing out loud, because that is some funny stuff right there.” Crow continues ranting,

 

“You…choir boy…have no chance in hell of even trying to compete with me tonight. I’m a former SWF World Champion…and what have you done…oh yeah…you had that European Title for about two weeks, and you won some kind of brawl or something to…good job…really…but now you are in a place where nobody really gives a shit about your accomplishments…”

 

Suddenly Crow is caught off guard by “It’s……FATE” echoing throughout the arena, signaling to Apostle that he needs to get his ass out to the ring. Crow makes one final statement to the Apostle and to the fans….

 

“Hey…Apostle…you know they always say ‘don’t break a leg’…well…I’ll try to be gentle on you…”

 

The Apostle looks a bit nervous again as he steps through the curtain, and the camera switches to the entranceway just as Apostle steps through the curtain, still looking over his shoulder as a bit of fire burns up the entranceway, much to his belated delight.

 

“Well, here comes our next SJL import…I think this one is burnt tomatoes…is that his name”

 

“No, Riley…his name is the Apostle, or so our stat sheet says…”

 

Funyon’s booming voice helps out the two announcers…

 

“Ladies and Gentleman…the following contest is scheduled for ONE FALL and is just another match in the Genesis Four Tournament! In the ring at this time…from Las Vegas, Nevada…he is a former SJL European Champion….

 

 

…the APPPPPPPPPOOOOOOOOOOOOOOSSSSSSSSSTTTTTTTLLLLLLLEEEEEEE~!”

 

The Apostle has made his way to the ring and just as Funyon finishes his little speech, Apostle pulls his robe off his body and drapes it in the corner, where it is quickly removed by a ringside attendant. The Apostle looks toward the entranceway for a moment, awaiting the arrival of his challenger.

 

Darkness is cast over the arena for possibly the hundredth time this evening as the ominous beginning to “Burn In Hell” begins to echo softly…

 

 

*BOOOOOM*

 

You’re Gonna Burn….In….Hell!

 

The thunderous explosion and subsequent fire always seems to scare Riley, who can be heard yelping softly amidst the screeching vocals as a white light burns down from the heavens to show Crow standing in the entranceway still smoking his cigarette.

 

“And his opponent…coming to the ring at this time…hailing from Anchorage, Alaska and always showing himself to be the SWF’s very own Antichrist Superstar and self proclaimed Greatest SJL World Champion….he is….

 

…CROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOWWWWWWWW~!”

 

 

As Funyon finishes the introduction, Apostle hops out of the ring to let Crow enter…but first Crow drops his cigarette to the floor mat and steps it out with his boot before slowly walking up the ringsteps and into the ring. As the lights come back up to their normal radiance, Crow can be seen motioning at the Apostle to get back in the ring. Apostle is slow to react, however, still looking a bit nervous as he surveys the SWF crowd and then back up at Crow, a smile growing on his face.

 

Nick Soapdish looks a bit confused, looking first at the Apostle on the outside and then at Crow on the inside, taunting Apostle.

 

“Apostle does not seem to want any piece of Crow tonight.” Riley says in perfect journalistic form.

 

”Riley you moron…of course he doesn’t…you would think if he DID…he’d be in the ring by now…” Comet almost slaps Riley in the back of the head, but keeps his cool as Soapdish tries to start things up.

 

“Apostle…get in this ring now or you will be disqualified!” he screams, causing the Apostle to jump into action and roll into the ring and jump up to his feet, a smile actually forming on his face. Crow’s smile grows a bit wider as he signals to Soapdish to start the match.

 

*DING DING DING*

 

Crow immediately gets in the Apostle’s face and a tie-up results, but after a moment Crow steps back and unleashes with a hard palm strike right to the Apostle’s chest that sends him staggering back for a moment, but showing his tough side and trying to look cool, he steps right back up in Crow’s face and gets another hard strike.

 

“I don’t think the JLer is learning anything in the early goings here” Riley spews forth that wisdom as Apostle takes two more hard strikes to the chest, followed by a kick to the ribs, sending him into the corner. Crow follows in with chops, not taking any chances with letting the Junior Leaguer an opening to attack.

 

“I used to chop like that! I once broke through four foot thick steel bars and saved the day!”

 

“Comet I know for a fact that you never did anything of the sort! Now get back to watching the match instead of your comic book fantasy!”

 

“Fantasy?”

 

Riley can be heard slapping his forehead almost in time with another few chops from Crow, the last of which causes Apostle to forget where he is and fight back with a few chops of his own, but Crow simply laughs them off and grabs Apostle by the throat before shoving him back into the corner and following up with another stiff kick to the ribs, causing Apostle to stumble out of the corner, trying to find a place to recover from the chops and kicks. As the Apostle heads for some safe haven, Riley once again offers his two cents.

 

“Where does he think he is going? He can’t hide from Crow!”

 

“Sure he could…he could climb in that barrel!”

 

“What barrel?” Riley is staring back and forth between his screen and Comet in almost blank stupidity.

 

“Oh wait…that’s Soapdish…” Comet replies, chuckling a bit and slightly pissing off Riley with his trickery.

 

Back to the ring, as Crow has gotten Apostle trapped in an adjacent corner and is continuing with his vicious knife-edge chops, each own coming closer and closer to literally slicing the Apostle’s chest to ribbons. As much as Apostle tries to block, every time he tries to cover his chest or anywhere else, Crow strikes the Apostle’s face…

 

“Crow is going for a little blood loss early in this fight!” Riley tries to be enthusiastic about the whole thing, even though he is barely done his announcing duties for the evening.

 

Apostle again tries a comeback, throwing a palm strike of his own that blindly connects with Crow’s shoulder, causing him to back up and come down across Apostle’s face with a hardcore claw swipe, drawing blood from the Apostle’s weak forehead. Even after only a few seconds, a trail has made its way down the Apostle’s face and is dripping to the mat.

 

“Apostle has been busted open!” both announcers almost say in unison…before trailing off in unison with the next few moments being filled only with the small muttering of Apostle as he escapes to the outside and to the floor, blood still trickling lightly and pooling up wherever it lands.

 

“Does he really think he’ll be safe out there?” Riley enquires as the camera shows a close-up of Apostle doubled over the guardrail, trying to regain his composure. “I thought this punk liked pain?”

 

“I am chalking this up to nerves right now, everybody goes through a bout of butterflies in the stomach before coming into the SWF for the first time, especially with this kid trying to make a good impression on the crowd.” Comet retorts just as Crow slides to the outside, breaking Soapdish’s slow count and causing him to restart.

 

…1…

 

Crow takes no mercy on Apostle, sending in another palm strike to the ribs that causes the unaware Apostle to stumble down the guardrail.

 

…2…

 

Apostle gets tripped up on his feet and Crow catches him, pointing toward the crowd and then toward the ringpost.

 

…3…

 

Crow goes for an irish whip but Apostle somehow is able to reverse it, showing signs of life once more.

 

…4…

 

Crow gets whipped full speed toward the post, but stops up short. Riley is ecstatic.

 

“Crow putting on the brakes and outsmarting the Apostle!”

 

…5…

 

Before Crow can move an inch, the Apostle leaps into the air and dropkicks Crow in the back of the neck, sending is body forward and causing his head to connect violently to the ringpost.

 

…6…

 

Crow drops down over the ringsteps and rolls to his back, a close-up now showing a bit of blood flowing from his forehead as well.

 

“A veteran move from Apostle busts Crow open!” Comet almost shouts into his headset now. “Both men are busted open!”

 

…7…

 

Apostle climbs in the ring quickly to avoid any countout, standing back away from the ropes as Crow makes his way to his feet.

 

…8…

 

Finally noticing a bit of blood, Crow wipes it from his forehead and runs his fingers across his chest, leaving behind small trails across his skin. Crow then remembers the count and slides back in the ring to finally break up the count.

 

Both men are bleeding now, but before Crow can make it to his feet the seemingly now energetic Apostle rushes in and takes him down with a knee to the head, dropping his upper body to the mat and adding a bit more blood to the canvas.

 

“Apostle looks to have gained a bit of confidence after that reversal on the outside…now let’s see if he can capitalize on it…” Comet trails off, paying attention to Apostle beginning to work on Crow’s right shoulder, pushing his left knee into Crow’s neck and pulling up on the right arm in a bit of a submission hold, causing Soapdish to intervene and check for any choking or even a possible tap out…

 

…but Crow is able to reach back with his foot and break the plan of the ropes, and Soapdish forces Apostle to break the hold and back away. Crow gets up to his feet slowly, slightly favoring the shoulder as the Apostle pushes himself around Soapdish and go on the attack once more, sending in a kick to the gut that doubles Crow down and in perfect position for a …

 

“Hard DDT from Apostle!” Comet and Riley again almost speak as one, causing them both to trail off once again…

 

“Why do you do that?” Riley tries to get an answer from Comet as Apostle goes for a cover.

 

1….

 

 

2….

 

 

Kickout from Crow!

 

“…psychic powers…” is all Comet says before returning his attention back to the match, the camera catching a close-up of a bit of a bloodier forehead before Apostle lifts Crow up once more and hooks him in another front facelock before snapping him back with a hard suplex, following up quickly with a floatover and landing on top of Crow, sending in a flurry of strikes of his own, but only into the right shoulder. Crow winces in pain as he tries to force Apostle off, finally able to push him away, but only after getting one final strike to the forehead just to open the Antichrist Superstar up just a bit more.

 

“Apostle is finally gaining a bit of momentum here…but I can never count Crow out” Comet comments at the resent surge of energy Apostle has been using.

 

Crow is able to get on his feet pretty quickly, as Soapdish actually tries to stop the Apostle from attacking anymore…pushing him into the corner as the Apostle fights to get around him, but Nick…noticing the blood on both men…

 

“Here comes Crow!” shouts Riley.

 

…decides to relent and moves out of the way just in the nick of time for Apostle to get splashed in the corner by Crow, who backs up across the ring once more and heads back in, but this time Apostle is ready and he moves forward and out of the way, shoving Crow down and between the ropes, forcing Crow’s shoulder into the ringpost and causing a small yelp of pain as his body almost falls through the ropes to the outside, but Apostle comes back and pulls Crow back in, actually saving him from dropping five or so feet to the floor.

 

“Apostle seems to really be wanting to take out the shoulder of Crow…possibly to neutralize the effect of the Natural Born Chaos or even to set up some kind of submission as the match goes on…” Comet chimes in with his two cents…

 

“We finally agree on something…” Riley responds to the chagrin of Comet, who simply ignores him and goes back to the match at hand.

 

Crow has made it to his feet once more, fighting out of a tie-up and connecting with a few punches, but a thumb to the eye has dazed him, and the Apostle is coming off the ropes and looking for a patented running enziguri…

 

 

 

 

 

…but Crow ducks, and the Apostle’s body flails wildly as he connects face first with the canvas, giving Crow his chance to capitalize. He heads toward the corner and climbs up, sitting on the top turnbuckle, but Apostle is up quick as well and rushes in, throwing punches to keep Crow where he is.

 

Apostle climbs up and delivers another shot to Crow’s shoulder that causes him to double over a bit, giving Apostle the opportunity to lock in another front facelock.

 

“I think Apostle is going for a superplex!” Riley shouts, causing the audible noise of Comet smacking him to be heard through the headset.

 

Apostle leans upwards, pulling Crow up as he goes to stand on the top, but the veteran Crow uses his left arm to sweep the legs out from under the Apostle…causing him to fall, split-legged, onto the top ropes and actually flip backwards and land on his face on the mat.

 

“Ouch…what a counter from Crow, dropping Apostle down and over and right on his face!”

 

“That will definitely leave a bit of a stain on the mat!” Riley quips, as Crow sees an opening and hops down, grabbing Apostle’s legs and bridging over for a pin…

 

1….

 

2….

 

Apostle pops up and two and rolls Crow onto his back, pinning down his arms…

 

1….

 

 

 

2….

 

Crow kicks out and is able to roll Apostle into the same position, pinning his arms down as Soapdish tries to catch all the action

 

1…

 

 

 

2….

 

Apostle kicks out and shoots off his back, trying to climb up to his feet, but Crow comes from behind and goes for a schoolboy, flipping Apostle right onto this back…

 

1….

 

 

 

2….

 

 

Apostle hooks his right arm around Crow’s head and rolls his body hard, flipping the men over and countering the pin into another pin…

 

1….

 

 

 

 

2….

 

 

Crow kicks out hard and both men roll to the outside, one man on either side of the ringpost. The cameraman to the back of Crow follows the action, as the Apostle tries a dive from the steel steps as Soapdish starts another count…

 

…1…

 

Apostle takes the dive and Crow is able to barely move out of the way, but instead of just letting him fall, Crow jumps and is able to hook his arm around the Apostle’s neck and fall with him, dropping him down to the floor with a DDT.

 

…2…

 

“Crow with a beautiful counter there!” Comet can be heard exclaiming as the Apostle rolls over onto his back, showing off a bit more blood loss, a stream running down his left cheek and pooling up underneath his ear.

 

…3….

 

Crow looks down at Apostle and laughs for a moment before dropping a knee down hard across Apostle’s face, causing him to writhe in pain and roll toward the ring apron. Crow is quick to grab Apostle, and lift him up, but Apostle pulls a wrench from under the apron and as Crow gets him back up to eye level Apostle falls back to his knees and strikes the wrench across Crow’s waist, causing him to double over and give Apostle another wrench shot, this time right to Crow’s right shoulder.

 

Soapdish stops the count and begins screaming out of the ring for Apostle to drop the wrench or risk a disqualification, so Apostle simply tosses the wrench back under the apron and as he turns back he connects hard with a right hook right to Crow’s forehead…then another…and another…and two more…Soapdish restarts his count…

 

…1…

 

Crow is bleeding a bit more heavily now, staggering a bit and trying to get back in the ring, but Apostle sees and opening and jumps up, grabbing Crow’s head and driving him down across the ringsteps, opening him up a bit further and actually leaving a small puddle of blood on the top stair. Riley is losing his mind at the announce table.

 

“Apostle just dropped him head first on that steel! Crow could be out! Look at that blood!”

 

“Crow is moving, Riley…he’ll survive…like I said…he always does…”

 

Crow is indeed moving, but slowly…as Apostle gets back to his feet and lifts Crow up, but Crow responds with another hard palm strike, this time with his left hand, to Apostle’s chin, and then spins him around, throwing his back against the ring apron and chopping at a fast pace, trying to wear down the Apostle and hopefully finish him off in short order.

 

…4…

 

*CHOP*

 

*CHOP*

 

…5…

 

Crow is chopping like a machine, taking every few chops to swing upwards and strike against the Apostle’s forehead, causing even more blood to drip down, a steady red stream flowing down his face and a few smaller beads running down his chest, causing Crow’s hand to get a bit bloody with each passing chop.

 

…7…

 

Crow can hear the count getting higher, so with one final hard chop he relents the madness and tosses Apostle back in the ring, following quickly after.

 

“These men need to stay in the ring…they can’t get it done outside…this isn’t falls count anywhere!” Riley tries to sound intelligent.

 

“Nice to know that, Captain Obvious…where’s your sidekick, Bewildered At Normalcy Boy?”

 

“He’s at home… …hey wait!”

 

As the two men get back to their feet in the ring, Apostle is facing the crowd and Crow can be seen lurking in the background, before Apostle can completely regain his bearings, Crow comes from behind and hooks his left arm around Apostle’s waist and lifts him up high, dropping him down across his right knee in an inverted atomic drop…

 

Apostle stumbles forward but Crow simply runs past him, bouncing off the ropes and coming back in with a low punch to the stomach, stopping mid-run and spinning around, hooking his right leg around the left of Apostle and hooking his head before dropping backwards hard in a Russian legsweep…hurting Apostle’s back and slightly putting more pain into his shoulder…but Crow rolls into a cover…

 

1…

 

 

 

2…

 

 

 

Kickout from Apostle, who gets up to his feet reasonably quick, but Crow is ready…irish-whipping him into the ropes and catching him coming back with a picture perfect backbreaker, dropping Apostle down to the mat for another pin attempt…

 

1…

 

 

 

 

2…

 

 

Another kickout!

 

“How does he keep getting up!” Riley yells into the headset, completely mind-blown at what Apostle is subjecting himself to.

 

Crow gets up fast, but Apostle is a bit slower recovering…so Crow goes to the corner, climbing to the second rope and diving off in short order, bringing the back of his left elbow across the back of the neck of Apostle, dropping him down again…another pin…

 

1…

 

 

 

2…

 

 

 

 

 

Apostle kicks out again!

 

“Crow is really working around the pain in his shoulder quite well” Comet has noticed the change of style Crow has switched to in the last few minutes of the match.

 

Crow pops off the mat and looks at the ref, stunned…but instead of fighting he simply pushes past Nick and grabs the Apostle’s legs, and the crowd seems to know what is coming.

 

“Is he going to…if he does…” Comet responds to the setup.

 

“…If he does…this could be over…” Riley finishes Comet’s thoughts as Crow sticks his right leg around Apostle’s left and hooks it in, wrapping his legs together and rolling the Apostle over into a beautiful sharpshooter!

 

“Apostle could tap out here!” Riley almost pukes up a lung as Apostle writhes in pain on the mat, reaching for the ropes…the pro-SWF crowd not helping out his cause…

 

“…TAP!”

 

 

”…TAP!”

 

 

“…TAP!”

 

Soapdish checks on Apostle, who is screaming his pleas out loud…

 

“…NO!”

 

 

“…NO!”

 

Apostle begins to crawl toward the ropes, his arms outstretched…getting a foot away…

 

 

 

 

 

 

…inches away….

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

…and Crow pulls him back away!

 

 

Apostle is still screaming, his back not used to the punishment they are receiving at the hands of the Antichrist Superstar…but he continues reaching, pulling himself back towards the ropes, blood still dripping down his forehead…

 

 

”Apostle is close…

 

 

 

…very close…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

…he makes the ropes!” Comet applauds the effort of the SJLer as Soapdish forces Crow to break the hold, but Apostle is in very serious pain, holding his back as he rolls over and under the ropes…

 

 

…but a close-up of Crow’s face shows no true remorse for the rookie, as he reaches down and grabs Apostle’s legs again, pulling him toward the center of the ring, but Apostle instinctively tries to fight out, popping of his back and trying to break away…but Crow simply drops down and connects with a closed fist right across Apostle’s forehead that puts him down on his back once more. Crow goes back to the closed fist once more, connecting with two more before Soapdish reminds him about using the fist, but Crow simply stands and smiles…

 

 

…and heads to the corner.

 

“What is he going to do?” Riley asks as Crow heads outside and begins climbing to the top rope.

 

“You’ve watched these guys bleed out here and bring every once of energy they had and neither of them will go down…this is amazing…what are they going to break out to finish one another…LOOK OUT!” screams Comet as Crow leaps backwards off the top rope, spinning in the air and flipping forward, crushing the Apostle under his weight as he lands on his back across Apostle’s stomach.

 

“Somersault Senton~!” Riley calls out…and Crow instinctively goes for another pin attempt…

 

1…

 

 

 

 

 

2…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

…and Apostle kicks out!! The crowd explodes in a chorus of boos to see Apostle get up from the acrobatics of Crow, whose face has turned from a smile to a look of sheer anger…

 

…he pulls Apostle off the mat and signals out to the crowd…looking for the Natural Born Chaos….he hooks his head and lifts…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

…blocked!

 

 

 

 

 

 

…Apostle drops down and goes for a quick rollup…

 

 

1…

 

 

 

 

2…

 

 

 

 

 

Crow kicks out from the surprise pin. Apostle jumps up a bit quicker now, running on his own bloodshed and adrenaline, as Crow comes in to attack he is met with a quick kick to the gut and Apostle immediately goes for The Answer…

 

“If he hits this…it could be over!” Comet screams as he lifts Crow up…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

…and Crow blocks!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

…Back Body Drop! Apostle’s body smacks off the canvas hard and Crow goes for another pin…

 

 

1…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

2...

 

 

 

 

 

KICKOUT!

 

“Apostle won’t go down!!!!” Riley is in a state of complete shock at the endurance of the rookie as Crow pulls him off the mat and tosses him into the ropes…catching him coming off and goes for an entrapment suplex…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

…but Apostle spins through it and hits one of his own!

 

“Holy God! Apostle just countered with one of Crow’s own moves!” Comet can barely contain himself in the booth.

 

“He didn’t hit all of it, look…Crow is getting up!”

 

“But not as quick as Apostle!” Comet replies as Apostle gets back to his feet, wiping the blood from his face and across his chest…watching, lurking closer toward Crow as he gets to his feet before rushing in with a superkick and knocking Crow back down.

 

Apostle seems to be in control now, smiling to himself and looking to the turnbuckle, climbing out of the ring and stepping up to the 2nd rope, looking out to the crowd and mocking Crow’s crucifix pose, causing the boos coming his way to get louder and louder…

 

“He’s just messing with their minds now!” screams Riley.

 

“But look who’s back up….” Comet has noticed Crow getting back to his feet, waiting for his moment…

 

 

 

 

Apostle spins around to look back in the ring but is caught by Crow popping up to the top and stopping quickly, connecting with a hard palm strike to the chin that almost causes Apostle to fall to the outside, but Crow actually catches him and continues the top rope assault, finally hooking his right arm around Apostle’s waist and latching in a front facelock…

 

 

The SWF steady cam zooms in to Crow’s face, showing a devious look on his face…

 

“Oh My….”

 

 

“…GOD!” Riley finishes for Comet. “Is he going to do a SUPER Natural Born Chaos~!”

 

“This could end Apostle’s career if he connects!” The crowd pops huge as Crow looks to lift up…

 

 

 

 

 

 

…but Apostle’s foot is locked around the top turnbuckle! Apostle uses his free right hand to attack Crow’s ribs, and as Crow lets go he is caught with a palm strike to his right shoulder once more, causing him to reel back a bit, but Apostle catches him and pulls him down, bringing a closed fist across the shoulder once more before underhooking his arms and laughing out loud……Riley goes nuclear…

 

“Is he going to give him the Answer from the top?!”

 

Apostle steps up to the top and jumps out of the ring and down to the apron, landing on his feet and simultaneously driving Crow’s face into the top turnbuckle! Crow pops up and stumbles backwards a bit before falling straight down on his face…

 

 

The crowd continues to boo as Apostle jumps back up to the top rope…

 

“What is he doing now?!” Riley screams again as the Apostle dives off the top rope with a moonsault, but his aim is apparently off slightly, as he lands almost on top of Crow’s head…

 

“He missed!” Riley begins to laugh, but is shut up by Comet quickly…

 

“He still landed on that injured shoulder of Crow...and what is he doing now?!” Comet echoes Riley’s earlier question as the Apostle hooks in a full nelson on Crow while he is still face down and jumps up, rolling over and bridging the full nelson into a full out Cattle Mutilation!

 

The crowd boos heavily as the ref checks for any sign of a tap-out from Crow, while Riley and Comet can be heard in the background slapping the announce table in frustration.

 

“Go for the ropes! Go for the ropes!” screams Riley as the crowd chants…

 

 

 

“…DON’T TAP!”

 

 

 

…DON’T TAP!”

 

 

 

 

Crow is stuck on his face, the body of Apostle forcing his bloody head into the mat as the full nelson puts even more pressure on the right shoulder of Crow…

 

“Don’t tap, Crow! Come on!” Riley slaps the desk repeatedly…

 

 

 

 

“…DON’T TAP!”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“…DON’T TAP!”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“…DON’T TAP!”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

…CROW TAPS OUT!

 

The entire arena goes insane with rage as the Apostle finally releases the hold, standing up and clearing more blood from his face and wiping his hands down his trunks, as Funyon makes the announcement…

 

 

“Ladies and Gentlemen…here is your winner…the SJL’s own… APPPPPPPPPPOOOOOOOOOOOSSSSSSSSSTTTTTTTTTTTLLLLLLLLLLEEEEEEE~!”

 

The Apostle throws his hands up in victory as flames shoot up the entranceway, slightly scaring the disillusioned Riley, who is being consoled by Comet.

 

“You’ll be fine, man…he’ll be gone soon enough…”

 

“But I want him gone now…that fire scared me!” Riley seems to be almost crying, but before Apostle leaves the ringside area he lifts Crow up off the mat and grabs his hand, shaking it in a show of respect for the tournament and the SWF. A bloody smile slowly forms on his face as he returns the handshake and leaves the ring, letting the Apostle enjoy what could be called his first SWF victory.

[Kaertos 0]

Suddenly, the SmarkTron flashes to a picture of the Suicide King, dressed regally as always, sitting behind his desk. Again, the desk is covered in papers and there is a small pair of galsses on the end of his nose. As if noticing the camera, the Commissioner of the SWF looks up and begins to speak.

 

"Ladies and Gentlemen, I have been going over the books for the last few months and while our financial outlook is certainly better now that I have rid myself... I mean, the payroll... of Mr. Stevens' over-inflated salary, it is still a little grim and promises very little return for our stockholders... namely me.

 

"Therefore, in the interest of expanding profits without causing you, the wrestling fan, any undue financial difficulty by raising our ticket and merchandise prices, it is my unfortunate decision to suspend all bonus checks and incentives owed to our superstars over the next three months.

 

"Certain workers have, of course, proven their worth above and beyond the call of duty to this office, and will be rewarded... handsomely. Those who have not proven their worth may take this as a sign, a very public sign, that I will brook no insubordination from you.

 

"Remember who signs the checks now kids. Some of you might want to think about that a little the next time you are tempted to leak information to a website about the state of the locker room and bandy about rumors to the dirt sheets.

 

"Have a wonderful evening..."

Edited August 21, 2003 by Grand Slam

[Kaertos 0]

We FLASH back to SWF Smarkdown, the crowd going wild as we’re four matches into the Genesis IV tournament, eight more to go! The SmarkTron flickers up, with an image of Quiz, a cue card in his hand, nodding up and down and grinning crazily, then an image of “The Franchise” Mak Francis, red Phillies cap being held in place by a pair of headphones, the Franchise cockily nodding his head to the beat. Both images freeze on the Smarktron, Quiz on the left side and Francis’ on the right, with the words “QUIZ VS MAK FRANCIS” underneath it, followed by each man’s stats.

 

QUIZ

Height: 5’10”

Weight: 189 lbs

Hometown: Toronto, Ontario, Canada

Finishers:

- Survivor Driver

- Potpourri for 450 Splash

Career Achievements:

- Current SWF Tag Team Champion (with Show)

 

MAK FRANCIS

Height: 6’2”

Weight: 236 lbs

Hometown: Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

Finishers:

- Franchise Tag

- Bittersweet

- Brotherly Love

Career Achievements:

- Current SWF Intercontinental-Television Champion

- Former SWF United States Champion

- Former SJL World Heavyweight Champion

- Two-Time NCAA National Wrestling Champion

 

“Welcome back to SWF Smarkdown, citizens!” Everyone’s favorite superhero, Cyclone Comet, brings us back from break. “I am your purveyor of justice, Cyclone Comet, and accompanying me tonight is Citizen Robert Riley!”

 

“Oh, shut up…” Riley mumbles a little bit before segueing, “You good people at home can see the bracket, ladies and gentlemen, Quiz is the huge underdog going into this Bracket B tournament match, but knowing the brilliance that is this young man, I am confident that he will overcome the bully Franchise.”

 

“Listen not to this bringer of evil, citizens!” Comet exclaims. “He does not realize the overwhelming talent that is Citizen Franchise, and he fails to foresee the victory that will occur tonight for Mak!”

 

“That’s not true, Comet! Mak Francis has the weight advantage, but Quiz has significantly more speed than the Franchise, and I think Quiz’s speed could easily overcome Mak’s power!”

 

“QUIZ!”

 

“COME ON DOWN!”

 

“Invariably we’ll find out soon, Citizen Robert!”

 

The crowd goes boo-crazy as “Come On Down” by Crystal Waters kicks up, Funyon clearing his throat as Quiz steps out onto the entrance ramp, tonight sporting a blood-red tie to go with his black suit, and as always the SWF Tag Team championship glistening gold over his shoulder!

 

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Funyon says, “the following contest is a Bracket B tournament match! Introducing first, he hails from Toronto, Ontario, Canada, weighing in at one-hundred eighty-nine pounds, one half of YOUR SWF Tag Team champions, QUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUIZ!”

 

The crowd boos as Quiz pulls a microphone out of his pocket, beginning to speak.

 

“Ladies and gentlemen, WELCOME to yet another twenty-four karat Quiz show! Live tonight from the Kingdome,” Quiz pauses for the cheap pop, “Quiz has a question for EVERYONE in attendance!”

 

The fans boo, but Quiz pays them no mind, continuing as he strolls down the entrance ramp.

 

“The answer is: The thing that EVERYONE in Fargo, North Dakota is going to see delivered to Mak Francis tonight!”

 

Several fans shout out answers, among them “WHORES!”, “A VICTORY!”, and one particularly excited young lady’s “MY VIRGINITY!”, but Quiz just shakes his head solemnly.

 

“I’m sorry, folks, the correct answer is WHAT IS AN ASS KICKING!”

 

Quiz slides into the ring, grinning madly as he tosses the mic aside, handing referee Nick Soapdish his tag title as “Come On Down” fades out, giving way to the ever-recognizable digitized xylophone! The fans erupt in cheers as a violin enters the equation… and then words…

 

“SO DO YOU WANNA BE A FRANCHISE!… and LIVE LARGE, a big house, five cars, the rent charge…”

 

The altered lyrics to “Rock Superstar” by Cypress Hill blast over the P.A. as the crowd stands up in unison, everyone trying to get a glimpse of “The Franchise” Mak Francis as he steps onto the ramp, the SWF ICTV title over his shoulder!

 

“AND HIS OPPONENT, weighing in at two-hundred thirty-six pounds, he hails from Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, he is YOUR SWF INTERCONTINENTAL-TELEVISION CHAMPION… “The Franchise” MAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAK FRANCIS!”

 

Francis adjusts his ice-blue shades on the bridge of his nose, looking to the left… and then to the right… and then straight ahead, at the Quiz that waits for him in the ring!

 

“I remember the days when I was a young kid growin’ up, lookin’ in the mirror, dreamin’ about blowin’ up!”

 

BOOM!

 

Green pyro blasts on either side of Francis, and the grinning Franchise adjusts his shades again, walking with SWAGGER~! down the entrance ramp, sliding into the ring and staring at Quiz for a few moments before going over to the turnbuckle, climbing up onto the second rope and holding up the Intercontinental-Television championship to the fans! The crowd roars as Mak hops down off the turnbuckle, handing the ICTV championship to referee Soapdish, who slides it out of the ring to an attendant. Mak takes off his ice-blue sunglasses, setting them down in the corner and beginning to warm up for the match as Soapdish calls for the bell.

 

*DING DING DING*

 

“And this bracket B tournament match is underway!”

 

Mak starts out the aggressor, stalking after the smaller Quiz and looking to lock up with him, but Quiz avoids, scampering away from Francis and to the opposite side of the ring. The Franchise, obviously a bit bemused by Quiz’s cowardice, stalks him once more, breathing menacingly down his neck as Quiz stumbles backwards along the ropes, and right into the turnbuckle!

 

Mak grins as he closes in on Quiz, pouncing with a snapping left jab! Quiz reels from the blow, and Mak follows it up with another snapping left! Quiz’s head spins from the move, but his brain picks up on the maneuver and recognizes it. Before he can put this knowledge to use, however, Mak catches him with another hard left to the face! The crowd roars, looking for Mak’s signature big right to end the combo, but as he brings the right towards Quiz’s head the cruiser drops to his knees, and Mak’s hand sails into the air where Quiz’s head formerly was!

 

“Citizen Quiz narrowly escapes the capper to Citizen Mak’s signature corner combo, and it’s obvious from the beginning of this match that Citizen Francis will be the aggressor!”

 

“Citizen Francis had better watch out and not let his guard down, Comet, or Quiz will come back and get vicious and delicious with the big man.”

 

“Word life, Citizen Robert!”

 

The larger Francis reaches down, grabbing Quiz by the scruff of his neck and lifts him to his feet. Keeping a firm hold on the back of the cruiser’s neck, Mak leads him to the middle of the ring, and proceeds to grab him by the arm, dancing back a bit and whipping Quiz into the ropes! The tag champ hits them hard, coming flying back at Mak, who looks to take Quiz down with a hard lariat – but Quiz rolls underneath it!

 

The crowd pops for the athletic maneuver, as Quiz pops up on the other side of Francis. Mak’s momentum brings him whirling around to face Quiz, who leaps into the air and dropkicks the Franchise straight in the teeth! The crowd cries out in boos as Francis falls to the mat, grabbing his jaw in pain as he quickly gets back to his feet. Quiz, meanwhile, recovers quickly, getting to his feet and yelling out at the crowd.

 

“No whammy!”

 

“YOU SUCK!”

 

“No, you…”

 

Quiz is cut off quickly by a hard forearm to the back from the Franchise, much to the delight of the crowd! Francis grins as Quiz topples over, landing on his face and clutching his back in pain as Francis looks down at Quiz with disdain.

 

“Double whammy, bitch.”

 

“FRAN – CHISE! FRAN – CHISE!”

 

“This crowd is really starting to get into this match, Citizen Robert, and they’re on the side of Citizen Franchise!”

 

“If they had any taste they’d be into Quiz… or Wild Cherry Pepsi.”

 

“My super-tastebuds prefer Pepsi MAX!”

 

Quiz gets up slowly, and as he stands up, his back to Mak, the Franchise wraps his arms around Quiz’s midsection, putting the game show host into a rear waistlock! Quiz, however, knows Mak’s arsenal, and he reaches back and catches Mak with a clubbing elbow to the side of the face! Mak releases the waistlock, and Quiz whirls around, catching Mak with a solid slap to the face!

 

*CRACK!* “OOOOOOOOOH!”

 

The crowd’s reaction to the move echoes Mak’s reaction, as he grabs the side of his face in pain, and quickly Quiz grabs Francis by the arm, whipping the Franchise into the ropes! Francis hits them hard, coming flying back at Quiz, who looks for the high leg clothesline – but now Francis rolls underneath it! The crowd pops at the athleticism from their hero as Francis breaks out of his roll, hitting the opposite ropes! Quiz, confused, looks around for Mak, but the Franchise comes up behind him, grabbing him by the back of the head and leaping into the air, driving Quiz’s face into the mat with a vicious running bulldog!

 

The crowd erupts as Quiz hits the mat hard, bouncing like a pinball into the air and onto his back, and Mak looks down at Quiz, disdain in his eyes as he looks up to the crowd and delivers a million-dollar smile.

 

“It’s time for the Truth to Hurt, Citizen Bobbo!”

 

“You know, as much as I admire the cockiness he puts into this maneuver, it’d be so much better if he just didn’t use it.”

 

Francis grins as he runs over to the ropes, bouncing off of them and strutting back towards Quiz, moving ever so slowly Ric Flair stylee, much to the delight of the Fargo crowd. As Francis reaches Quiz’s body he puts his hands behind his head, busting out a pelvic thrust to screams from the females in the crowd and a “PELVIC THRUST OF TRUTHITTUDE!” from Comet, before quickly bringing his right arm around and dropping a huge elbow into the chest cavity of Quiz!

 

The fans erupt as Quiz clutches his chest in pain, but Francis pays him no mind, instead pulling him over onto his back and making the cover!

 

“OOOOOOOOONE!”

 

“TWOOOOOOOOO!”

 

“TH – TWO COUNT!” Quiz narrowly gets the shoulder up, and Francis, still grinning from the earlier maneuver, grabs him by the neck and lifts him to his feet.

 

“The Truth Hurts, and Citizen Quiz just felt it, Citizen Robert! A truly dazzling maneuver by Supercitizen Francis, and he’s obviously got the leg up on Citizen Quiz!”

 

“Supercitizen Francis? Don’t suck his super-dick anymore, okay, Comet?”

 

“The only one sucking super-dick is YOU! Zing!”

 

Francis grabs Quiz, kneeing the cruiserweight in the kidneys and placing his head between his legs, putting Quiz into a standing headscissors! The crowd erupts as Francis grabs Quiz around the waist, lifting him up onto his shoulders and into powerbomb position! The crowd goes WILD for the rarely-seen maneuver from Francis, but their cheers turn to jeers as Quiz gracefully falls backwards, arching his back and wrapping his legs around Francis’ head, snapping him over with a hurricanrana! Francis lands hard on his back, with Quiz sitting on his stomach, beckoning for Soapdish to count the pin!

 

“OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONE!”

 

“TWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

 

“TH…”

 

Mak reaches up, putting his hands into Quiz’s chest and sitting up, pushing Quiz forward into a pinning predicament! Soapdish, sick of seeing reversed-pins sequences but forced to count anyway, gets down!

 

“OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONE!”

 

“TWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

 

“THRE – NO!” Quiz rolls backwards, getting to his feet quickly as Mak stands up as well, the two of them staring at each other as the crowd begins to applaud!

 

“Indy Applause Stance! By God, Citizen Bobby, I love this maneuver!”

 

Quiz, however, is not one to respect the Indy Applause Stance, and quickly he charges Mak, leaping into the air and spinning over in midair, looking to catch Mak with a spinning heel kick…

 

But Mak catches him in midair! The crowd pops as Francis grins, stepping forward and dropping Quiz back-first across his knee! Mak grabs the fallen Quiz, lifting the cruiser to his feet and grabbing him by the arm, looking to whip him into the ropes – but Quiz reverses, using all of his might to send Francis into the turnbuckle! Quiz grins, walking with SWAGGER~! over to Francis and reaching back with his left hand, looking at it quickly before bringing it across the left side of Mak’s face with a huge slap!

 

The fans cry out against this obvious disrespect move, and Mak’s head snaps over to the right side, only to get clubbed in the face by a right forearm from Quiz! Mak slides down the turnbuckle a bit, but Quiz grabs the Franchise under the chin, rearing back and catching him HARD across the chest with a knife-edged chop!

 

*THWACK!* “WHOOOOOOOO!”

 

The Franchise grabs his stomach in pain, welts already forming as Quiz plants a palm in Francis’ stomach, shoving him back into the turnbuckle and cupping his chin once more, rearing back and catching Francis across the stomach with another knife-edged chop!

 

*THWACK!* “WHOOOOOOOO!”

 

Francis again grabs his stomach in pain as Quiz gracefully backflips out of the corner, winking at the camera before running at Mak, running up his chest and using it as a springboard to backflip off of, his right foot catching Mak under the chin with a nasty kick as he backflips over in midair, landing on his feet in front of Mak! The Franchise grabs his chin in pain as Quiz grins, yelling out at the crowd.

 

“The survey said that would happen!”

 

“QUIZ SUCKS! QUIZ SUCKS!”

 

“These fans aren’t showing much support for Quiz,” Riley notes, “despite the small man’s knack for beating Mak Francis!”

 

“Perhaps if he wasn’t so in-your-face with his grace,” Comet replies, “these gracious Kingdome citizens would love him like a superhero!”

 

Mak stumbles out of the corner, grabbing his jaw in pain as Quiz plants both hands in his stomach, pushing Francis back into the corner! Mak stays there, catching his breath as Quiz backs up a bit before charging Francis once more, leaping up and planting both feet into the Franchise’s stomach, grabbing Mak by the head and looking both ways before falling back, pushing his legs into Francis’ stomach and letting go of him so that Mak flips over his body, landing hard on his back!

 

“Monkey flip from Quiz!”

 

But as Quiz’s legs press Mak’s body into the air he grabs his left one in pain, his face a grimace as he clutches his leg in pain, referee Nick Soapdish going over to him to check on him. Meanwhile, Mak gets to his feet, a bit shaky – and the crowd’s booing lets him know something is not right! He turns around, looking to the source of the boos to see the big, lumbering Charlie “The Show” Matthews stepping over the guardrail, his eyes glinting as he stares up at Mak!

 

“It looks like Citizen Quiz is injured, Citizen Robert!”

 

“Haven’t you seen this trick before in your superhero lifetime? The great supervillain Quiz is playing hurt in the middle of the ring, forcing the Mediator of Justice to check on him while the superhero is left to get destroyed by the great supervillain’s Cohort in Crime!”

 

“… oh. That evildoer needs JUSTICE~!”

 

Show lumbers over to where Mak stands, grabbing Francis’ leg and yanking him out of the ring! Quiz, seeing this, nods, and referee Soapdish prods his leg, Quiz yelping out in pain as though on cue. On the outside, Show and Mak are locked in a scuffle, Francis trying to amateur wrestle Show but the big man trying to avoid this. Francis tries to grab Show in a collar and elbow tie-up, but the big man hops back from it, charging forward and flattening Francis with a huge lariat!

 

“OOOOOOOOOOOOOOH!”

 

The Show grabs Francis, lifting Mak to his feet before grabbing him by the arm, whipping Francis into the barrier and following close behind him! Mak’s body goes flying into the guardrail, and as the natural reaction of Mak bouncing off tries to take place it is cut off at the knees by Show, who pancakes Francis into the railing once more! The grinning Show backs off, allowing Francis’ limp body to fall to the padding on the outside, while inside the ring Quiz continues to yelp in pain.

 

“Show taking it hard to Francis on the outside, Comet, and he’s doing an excellent job on the Franchise!”

 

“This is blatantly against the rules, Citizen Robert!”

 

“I’m inclined to not care, Cyclone.”

 

Show grabs Francis’ limp form, lifting the Franchise to his feet. Show knees Francis in the stomach, doubling him over and quickly pulling the Franchise’s arms between his legs, putting him into pumphandle position. The crowd erupts in boos, knowing that the Final Answer is on tap – and as Show lifts Francis up, flipping him over in midair and placing the Franchise on his shoulder, Mak slides down Show’s back, escaping the hold and winding up on the other side of Show!

 

The crowd erupts as Show stumbles around – only to find Francis waiting there! The Franchise reaches around behind Show with his left arm, quickly grabbing Matthews’ right arm and hooking it in a hammerlock. Francis then reaches up, putting his right arm underneath Show’s jaw and dropping to his knees, driving Matthews’ jaw into his arm with a vicious chickenwing jawbreaker! Matthews bounces up into the air, clutching his jaw in pain, and using all of his strength Francis wraps both of his arms around Show’s legs, hoisting Matthews up into the air (and getting an “OOH!” from the crowd for the impressive visual) and dropping him neck-first across the guardrail!

 

“OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOH!”

 

The crowd roars out, cheering madly as Francis stands up, admiring his handiwork.

 

“THAT’S FRANCHISABLE! SUPERCITIZEN FRANCIS GIVES EVILDOER MATTHEWS A BIT OF JUSTICE!”

 

“Shut up, Comet, this isn’t headline time at the Daily Bugle or whatever the hell that newspaper was called…”

 

Matthews grabs his neck in pain, falling on the outside and grabbing his neck in pain as the satisfied Franchise turns back to the ring, and Quiz, seeing Francis back on his feet, shoves Soapdish out of the way, standing up as Mak slides into the ring. Quiz dances away from Mak, but as the Franchise stands up Quiz dances back, lashing out with a high leg that catches Mak…

 

*CRACK!*

 

Right in the jaw with a vicious Superkick! Francis falls over as though taking a gunshot to the head, the crowd roaring for the sudden impact and then boos the man delivering it, as Quiz stands over Francis’ fallen body, staring down at Mak and tsk-tsking a bit before looking up at the crowd and calling out to them.

 

“It looks like Mak just went bankrupt!”

 

The crowd goes livid with boos as Quiz stares down at Mak, prodding his fallen body a bit with his foot. As Mak doesn’t move, Quiz grins, heading over to the turnbuckle.

 

“Superkick from Quiz nearly knocks Francis out! And now, he’s looking to take to the air…”

 

“Take to the air? How dare you quote my archrival in superherodom!”

 

“…what are you talking about, you goofy bastard?”

 

“Hurricane Red, the superhero B.C.”

 

“B.C.?”

 

“Before Comet.”

 

Quiz climbs the turnbuckle carefully, placing his right foot very carefully on the bottom rope, then placing his left foot very carefully on the middle rope, then placing his right foot very carefully on the top rope, then places his left foot very carefully on the top rope. During the whole routing Quiz grins like a madman, the crowd booing the ever-confident Quiz as though he were Hitler incarnate, but the game show man pays them no mind, turning around on the top rope and staring out at Francis, lying prone in the middle of the ring.

 

The cruiserweight, realizing he doesn’t have much more time, bounces on the ropes, spinning a hundred and eighty degrees in midair and splitting his legs, landing split-legged on the ropes and springing off, backflipping in midair and landing stomach-first across Francis’ prone body! The crowd roars for the pretty move, but boos Quiz as he bridges through, grabbing Francis’ leg and looking for the pin. Soapdish hits the mat…

 

“CHUCK WOOLERY MOONSAULT! THIS COULD BE ALL, COMET!”

 

“OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONE!”

 

“NO! HARNESS THE POWERS OF GOODNESS, MAK!”

 

“TWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

 

“He doesn’t have it in him, Comet!”

 

“THREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE…

 

 

TWO COUNT!”

 

Francis barely gets the shoulder up, the crowd going absolutely nuts as Quiz stares daggers at Nick Soapdish, obviously thinking that it was a three count. Soapdish, feeling the need to verify his accuracy, holds up two fingers to Quiz, and the game show host, frustrated, hefts Francis up, obviously looking for the knockout blow.

 

“We nearly had a huge upset on our hands, Comet! Quiz was a hundredth of a second away from advancing in the winners’ bracket!”

 

“Still, Citizen Robert, Citizen Quiz did not have three seconds, he had two and ninety-nine hundredths, and we all know that two-point-nine-nine does not equal three.”

 

“… why can’t you just say JUSTICE~! and let me be witty?”

 

Quiz lifts Francis up, mumbling to himself about how “the survey said that’d be three” as he grabs Francis by the arm, whipping the Franchise hard into the ropes! Quiz, anticipating Mak coming back, executed a perfectly timed hiptoss…

 

ON NOTHING BUT AIR!

 

Francis grapevines both arms on the top rope, holding on, and Quiz turns around, staring daggers at Francis for ruining his attempt at the Survivor Driver. REALLY IN ANGER with Francis, Quiz charges the Franchise, looking for a Cactus clothesline to send both of them over the top…

 

BUT FRANCIS PULLS DOWN THE TOP ROPE!

 

Quiz, looking to barrel into Francis, instead sends himself over the top rope, landing hard on the outside! A grinning Francis slides outside, obviously on the fence about what to do to Quiz…

 

“And Supercitizen Francis TWICE gets the better of Citizen Quiz! Supercitizen Mak is full of genius… and JUSTICE~!”

 

“What are you talking about, Comet? Obviously, Quiz is duping Francis in an attempt to lure him into a trap… obviously, Quiz has Mak Francis right where he wants him! Right there!”

 

Quiz, meanwhile, is up on the outside, and looking to absolutely MURDILIZE~! Francis. Angrily, Quiz charges the Franchise… but as he gets close to Mak, Francis wraps both arms around Quiz, grabbing him in a front waistlock and falling backwards, throwing Quiz over his head with a huge belly-to-belly! Quiz goes flying, landing on his back a good three feet behind Francis, and the crowd pops huge for the move!

 

“THAT’S FRAN CHIS-A-BLE!” *clap clap clapclapclap*

 

“THAT’S FRAN CHIS-A-BLE!” *clap clap clapclapclap*

 

“Huge overhead belly-to-belly from Supercitizen Francis! Quiz looks broken in half and dead, Citizen Robert, and I highly doubt that this was part of a master plan!”

 

“… yeah, shut up, you masked freak.”

 

Quiz grabs his ribs in pain, and Francis gets to his feet, a smirk on his face as he walks over to Quiz, picking the cruiser up and rolling him back into the ring. Referee Soapdish, seeing the groaning Quiz, goes over to check on him, and as Francis looks to roll into the ring his foot is grabbed! Francis turns around, looking to see who has a hold on his leg…

 

To see Charlie “The Show” Matthews once again!

 

The crowd roars out in boos as Matthews pulls Mak down off the apron, grinning stupidly. Mak looks to land an elbow to Show’s head, but Matthews ducks it, raising up his right arm and hooking Mak’s neck with it! Quickly, Show uses his right leg to grapevine Mak’s right, and falls forward, driving Mak back-first into the thin padding on the outside with the “Lovely Parting Gift” STO!

 

“LOVELY PARTING GIFT ON THE OUTSIDE! Double Jeopardy again taking advantage of the referee’s kindness, and Mak looks like he’s in some serious trouble now!”

 

“Citizen Soapdish can not be faulted for his kindness, Citizen Robert, but Citizens Quiz and Show can be faulted for using Citizen Soapdish’s kindness to force INJUSTICE~! upon Supercitizen Mak.”

 

“Normally I’d whine or complain or something… but I understood that. Lord help me.”

 

Soapdish, having checked thoroughly to make sure Quiz is okay after the nasty fall and making sure Quiz has gotten to his feet okay, turns around to see Show rolling Mak’s limp form into the ring. Soapdish goes over to the ropes, looking to scold Matthews, but the Show simply turns around, hopping over the guardrail and disappearing through the crowd.

 

In the ring, however, Quiz pulls Mak’s body so that it’s parallel to the turnbuckle, walking over to the buckle and climbing it quickly, not wanting this match to go on any longer than it has to. He turns around as he hits the top rope, facing out at Francis, lying in the middle of the ring, and the thousands in attendance at the Kingdome. Quiz stands up to his full height, grinning like mad.

 

“I’LL TAKE POTPOURRI FOR 450!”

 

The crowd boos like mad, knowing exactly what this mean, and their fears are justified as Quiz leaps off the top rope, flipping over a full four-hundred-and-fifty degrees, his arms and legs outstretched to expose his stomach…

 

*WHUMP!*

 

And he lands hard, right on Mak’s prone body! The crowd roars out in boos as Quiz reaches over, hooking the leg quickly and pulling on it as hard as he can, looking for the quick three…

 

“POTPOURRI FOR 450 SPLASH! This HAS to be all, Comet!”

 

“OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONE!”

 

“Supercitizen Mak will get the kickout, Citizen Robert, MARK MY JUSTIFICATED WORDS~!”

 

“TWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

 

“No he won’t, you overheroic freak!”

 

 

“THREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!”

 

The crowd erupts in boos as Quiz rolls off of Francis, rolling all the way out of the ring as Soapdish quickly gets to his feet, calling for the bell!

 

*DING DING DING!*

 

Funyon clears his throat… “Ladies and gentlemen, YOUR winner, at eleven minutes, fourteen seconds, and advancing in the winners’ bracket… QUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUIZ!”

 

The crowd choruses in boos as Quiz gets to his feet on the outside, arms raised as Nick Soapdish rolls out of the ring, grabbing the SWF Tag Team Championship and jogging over to Quiz, handing the game show host his belt. Quiz holds it up high in the air in his left hand as Soapdish lifts his right hand in victory. The crowd’s booing grows even louder as Quiz kisses his tag title belt, strapping it around his waist.

 

We shift to a shot of Mak, staring angrily up the ramp at Quiz. Riley’s voice feathers over Mak’s pissed-off expression, summing up the moment perfectly.

 

“Quiz steals another one from Mak Francis, and this time it’s not for the Tag titles but to advance in the SWF Genesis IV tournament!”

 

“To say Citizen Quiz stole this match would be a vast understatement, Citizen Robert.”

 

“Whatever… still to come, Judge William Hearford versus Annie Eclectic! Dace Night versus Ejiro Fasaki! And coming up next, Viktor Tarakanov versus Danny Williams! We’ve seen one huge upset already tonight, folks… do you really want to risk missing the next one?”

 

We remain focused on Mak’s expression of anger… as we fade to black…

[Kaertos 0]

Comet: Greetings citizens! Coming up right now, the tournament continues as we see Danny Williams take on “The Red Rage” Viktor Tara-ta....uh...can opener?

 

Suddenly, the Russian Red Army Choir can be heard, heroically belting out the “Soviet National Anthem!” To the accompaniment of exploding red pyro, the large intimidating Soviet coldly makes his way down the entrance ramp.

 

Funyon: The following first round match up is scheduled for one fall, and is set at a 15 minute time limit. Introducing first, weighing in at a solid 280 pounds, and hailing from Astrakahn, Russia...................”THE RED RAGE” VIKTOR TARAKANOV!

 

Having reached the ring, Viktor sneers at the crowd before making his way up the steel steps. As if he’s trying to get dog doo off, Viktor wipes his boots on the ring apron. Showing their national pride, the crowd chants, “U-S-A!” loud and proud. Now inside the squared circle, Viktor stomps about, trying his best to block out the annoying chant.

 

Comet: Though he may be an evil communist who would like nothing more than to destroy the American way of life, Viktor is without question a gifted athlete who’s power is only eclipsed by his intelligence.

 

Riley: If there is any SJL wrestler who has a chance in hell of beating a top SWF star like Danny Williams it is Viktor. The SJL World Champion is a highly experienced shoot fighter with a background in Russian Judo, conditioned from childhood to be the ultimate killing machine.

 

Comet: Now that is evil, children should be taught to read and write, not to kill!

 

Riley: Right, anyway....Our generous commissioner has given Viktor the opportunity of a life time tonight! Not only does Vicktor get to show his stuff against the SWF elite, but he also has a slim chance of possibly going on to face the SWF World Heavyweight Champion at Genesis!

 

Comet: What a rags to riches story that would be, and don’t say it can’t happen my fare citizens! Remember this is America, where if you work hard and follow your dreams you can achieve anything!

 

The Red Army Choir fades out, and is gradually replaced by the haunting key boards of In Flames’ “ The Jester’s Dance”. The sound of the familiar melodies ignites the crowd, which almost instantly goes into a “DAN-E!” chant.

 

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

 

With his head held high, Williams confidently marches out of the locker room to a deafening pop! Despite being moving at a patient pace, it’s obvious that Williams is very eager to make his way down the aisle and get the match started.

 

Riley: When all is said and done, Danny Williams will most likely go down in history as the SWF’s greatest loser. All of his best performances have come in losing efforts, and many like myself are starting to wander, “does Danny Williams really have what it takes to be a World Champion?”

 

Comet: The work ethic is there, the intelligence is there, the will to win is there, but tragically Williams never seems to have enough to pull off the big win. However, as evident by his match against Jamie Drazon at Battleground, sometimes his will to win is all he needs to get by.

 

Riley: Well it wasn’t enough for him to beat TNT now was it?

 

Comet: That is correct, but than again, never count out the power of determination. I guarantee you that after his heart breaking loss at Ground Zero, Williams is going to come into this tournament more fired up than ever.

 

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

 

DING! DING! DING!

 

The crowd gives a small ovation as both men glide out of their corners, turn a circle, and clash together in a grapple. They battle for position, but neither Williams nor Tarakanov can secure an advantage. Flaunting his superior power, Tarakanov muscles Williams into a near by corner, and Soapdish predictably orders the break. Tarakanov untangles his arms from his cornered opponent, only to start tearing into him with right hands!

 

Comet: Hitting on the break is WRONG!

 

Riley: Well, they don’t call him the Red Rage for nothing.

 

Inserting himself, Soapdish squeezes in between Viktor and Williams, attempting to stop the brutal assault. Not letting a referee stop his fun, Tarakanov yanks Soapdish out of his way, and goes back to work on Williams! Losing his balance, Soapdish pitifully flops on the mat, giving Tarakanov even more heat with the crowd.

 

“Boooooooooooooooooo!”

 

Having used his brief break to recuperate, Williams is ready for Tarakanov this time. Tarakanov draws back his heavy arm for another clubbing punch, and brings it down......

 

but Williams ducks, and spins out of the corner! Keeping Tarakanov in the corner, an extremely pissed off Danny Williams starts swinging some elbows! The echo of bone against skull can be heard throughout the entire arena, drawing it’s fair share of cringes and “oh”s.

 

CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!

 

Tarakanov’s legs give out, causing him to slump down in the corner with his head down. Showing no mercy, Williams starts to slam some knees into the big Russian’s face, while the crowd cheers him on!

 

Riley: Where the hell is Soapdish when you need him?!

 

Comet: He’s on the mat, thanks to Viktor’s total disregard for authority.

 

Returning to his feet, Soapdish coaxes Williams into laying off Tarakanov. Stomping back to the center of the ring, Williams raises a fist to the approval of the crowd, while Tarakanov rolls out of the ring in a punch drunk stupor.

 

Comet: And Danny Williams has the turned tables on Viktor, beating him at his own game.

 

Riley: Thanks to the meddling of a power crazed referee.

 

Pacing around, Tarakanov tries to get his wits about him while Williams teaches Soapdish the proper way to throw a forearm.

 

Riley: See, I told you that they were in cahoots!

 

Comet: Nonsense, the officials in the SWF are some of the most noble in the business.

 

After getting a good chuckle out of Danny’s shenanigans, the crowd quiets down as Tarakanov finally climbs back into the ring. Staying at a distance, Williams lets Tarakanov enter the ring unmolested. Resuming their circling, Williams and Tarakanov carefully eye each other up. After completing a couple circles, the two grapplers come together in another lock up. Tarakanov quickly gains the upper hand, muscling Danny down in a headlock. Rolling to the mat, Tarakanov pulls Danny over with a headlock takedown.

 

Comet: Since he couldn’t out brawl Williams, Viktor is gonna attempt to out wrestle him.

 

But in an instant, Williams pries the careless Tarakanov off with a head scissors! In a flash, Tarakanov slips out of Williams’ head scissors with a kick out! Williams rushes to his feet, but Tarakanov sends him back to the mat with another headlock takedown! Williams brings up his legs for the head scissors, but a far more cautious Tarakanov manages to elude them on his occasion.

 

Riley: Viktor is too smart to get caught with the same trick twice, if Williams want’s out, he’s gonna have to find another way.

 

Rolling on his stomach to ease the pressure on his head, Williams fights back to his feet, and runs Tarakanov into the ropes! Shockingly, Tarakanov hangs on to the headlock like a pit bull, using it to drag Danny back to the mat. Refusing to stay down, Williams pushes his way up to a vertical base, and runs his tormenter into the ropes again, but the result is the same.

 

Comet: In classic under dog fashion, Viktor is refusing to give up control of the match, desperately keeping Williams in check with the headlock.

 

Riley: That’s really the only thing he can do with Danny at the moment, just try to wear him and make him more vulnerable for something bigger down the road.

 

Working the headlock like a mad man, Tarakanov squeezes and grinds away at Williams’ poor head. Struggling to his feet, Williams begins to strenuously pry Tarakanov’s huge arm off his head. Succeeding to some degree, Danny turns his back to Tarakanov and attempts to twist his arm an overhead wristlock.

 

Comet: Left with no other option, Williams is now attempting to the escape the headlock with brute force.

 

Riley: So Comet, who do you think produced the better scientifically enhanced athletes, the Untied States or the Soviet Union?

 

Comet: Foolish Riley, there is no such thing as scientifically enhanced athletes, the only true athletes are the ones who achieve through the use of hard work and vitamins, not steroids.

 

Breaking a sweat and trembling, the two gladiators battle it out in a test of strength. Showing their support, the crowd starts to chant...

 

“DAN-E! DAN-E! DAN-E!”

 

Making some progress, Williams starts to turn back towards Tarakanov to lock him in the top wristlock, but the big Russian isn’t about to roll over and die.

 

“Daaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!”, screams Tarakanov as he summons enough power to muscle Danny back into headlock.

 

The fans settle down as Tarakanov starts grinding away at Williams’ head and neck, forcing him down to one knee. The constant pressure on Williams’ brain has caused him to develop a slight head ache, which continues to grow worse and worse with each passing second. Unable to escape on his own terms, Williams has no choice but to simply walk Tarakanov into the ropes, and wait for the official.

 

“Break!”

 

Tarakanov reluctantly releases Williams, who in that instant starts firing elbows!

 

CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!

 

Fighting back, Tarakanov catches Danny with a right hook! Clutching his head, Williams freezes up in agony allowing the Red Rage to nail him with another!

 

CRACK!

 

Wincing in pain, Williams aimlessly stumbles back towards the center of the ring, giving Tarakanov the space he needs to score with another headlock takedown!

 

“Boooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!”

 

From the kneeling position, Tarakanov works the headlock like a mofo, turning Williams’ head ache into an all out migraine.

 

Comet: Those headlocks must really be taking a toll on Williams, all it took was just two punches to send him reeling.

 

Riley: Maybe that’s what Viktor’s plan is, establish a weak point on Williams in the early going so that he can have something to fall back on when things get hairy.

 

Comet: Great observation, citizen Riley! By working Williams’ head, Viktor has given himself the edge he needs to possibly pull off the upset.

 

Wanting to help Williams get out of this dire situation, the fans begin a rhythmic chant...

 

“Let’s go Danny, Let’s go!” clap!clap! clap!clap!clap! “Let’s go Danny, Let’s go!”

 

Like a parasite, Williams feeds off the energy of the crowd. Now able to stand, Williams climbs to his feet, and walks Tarakanov into the ropes. In a poor display of sportsmanship, Tarakanov starts cranking on Danny’s head, refusing to release him.

 

“Boooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!”

 

Visibly angry, Soapdish starts a quick count, forcing Tarakanov to finally let Danny go! In response, Williams predictably tries to catch Tarakanov with a forearm, but it gets batted away!

 

Riley: Viktor was ready for Danny that time!

 

Quick to counter, Taraknov drives Williams into the center of the ring with a flurry of right hands! Taking Williams by the head, Tarakanov twists around for yet another headlock takedown! However, Williams slips his head out of Tarakanov’s clutches, securing the big man in a rear waistlock! Bridging back at a high angle, Williams launches Tarakanov over his head and into the air!

 

CRUNCH!

 

To a big pop, The Red Rage lands hard on his upper back!

 

Comet: HOLY LAWNMOWER, WHAT A GERMAN! Viktor was looking for the headlock takedown, but Williams saw it coming, and was able to slip out and hit the suplex!

 

Pounding his feet into the mat, Williams lies on his back, squeezing his head between his hands. With the exception of some nervous chatter, the confused crowd quiets down while Soapdish inspects Williams who appears to be in great agony. Meanwhile, Tarakanov is lying motionless on his back with his eyes closed.

 

Comet: VIKTOR IS OUT, but Williams is too hurt too capitalize!

 

Riley: I imagine that slamming his noggin into the mat for the suplex bridge wasn’t too bright of an idea after having his head worked over for the past five minutes.

 

After the pounding in his head subsides, Williams crawls his over to Tarakanov, and covers him for the pin!

 

Comet: HERE’S THE COVER!

 

 

 

“ONE!”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“TWO!”

 

 

 

 

The crowd sighs as Tarakanov kicks out rather strongly!

 

Riley: Danny would have had him if he would have pinned him immediately, instead of taking the time to bitch to Soapdish about his head ache.

 

Comet: I’m displeased with your lack of compassion, Riley. It’s my understanding that Williams suffered a concussion not too long ago, and it is quite possible that Viktor’s headlocks could have aggravated that old injury.

 

Riley: Do you know what this is, this is the world’s smallest violin playing for Danny Williams.

 

Putting the kick out behind him, Williams helps Tarakanov to his feet, pushes him into the ropes, and whips him off! Leaping to position in the center of the ring, Williams catches Tarakanov on the rebound with a Sleeperhold! The crowd gives a nice pop for the respected move.

 

Comet: SLEEPAAAAAAAAH! Smart move by Williams in choosing to wear Tarakanov down before trying another big move, and as a plus it also allows him to shake off some of that menacing head work.

 

Wildly flinging his arms about, Tarakanov desperately searches for the ropes, while Williams does his best to anchor the big man in the center of the ring.

 

Riley: It’s do or die, if Viktor can’t make the ropes before his legs give out, he’s finished!

 

Moving very sluggishly, Tarakanov power walks his way to the salvation of the ropes! Williams attempts to pull Tarakanov off, but the Red Rage has a death grip on them. Slightly frustrated, Williams releases Tarakanov, and hammers him with a couple of nasty elbow smashes!

 

CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!

 

Williams takes hold of the stunned Soviet’s wrist, and shoots him off the ropes with an Irish whip! Just as before, Williams traps Tarakanov in a Sleeperhold as he returns, but unlike last time, the Red Rage slips out of his clutches! Spinning to Danny’s side, Tarakanov ducks under his arm, and lifts him on his shoulder!

 

BOOM!

 

Tarakanov plants Danny with a text book belly to back suplex, drawing a few “ohs” from the audience!

 

Comet: BAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACKDROP!

 

Riley: Viktor isn’t gonna get caught with the same move twice, he’s just too damn crafty.

 

As if he’s just woken up for the day, Tarakanov rubs his eyes and he climbs to his feet. By this time, Williams has crawled into a corner, using the ropes to pull himself up. Grabbing Williams by the hair, Tarakanov yanks him the rest of the way up, and rams his head into the top turnbuckle.

 

Comet: Viktor, going back to work on Williams’ head.

 

Keeping a hold of Williams’ hair, Tarakanov takes off for the opposite corner, where he slams his head down into the top turnbuckle! Williams bounces off the turnbuckle, and flops back to the canvas in agony. Feeling that he is in total control, Tarakanov shows the crowd who’s in charge, by prematurely raising his arms in victory. The crowd responds by showering Tarakanov with jeers and sneers.

 

Riley: That’s right Tarakanov you show em who’s da man!

 

Comet: It’s best not to count your eggs before they hatch.

 

Riley: Let the man have some fun, this is his night, his chance to prove himself, and he’s doing a damn fine job of it.

 

Smiling to himself, Tarakanov sits Danny up, and clamps on a tight step over facelock! All of a sudden, Williams screams at the top of lungs, freaking out the crowd and unnerving Soapdish!

 

Comet: Judging by Danny’s reaction to the hold, I think we have a good chance of seeing a submission!

 

Riley: Can you imagine what it would do for Viktor’s career if he could earn a submission over an established SWF star in this tournament?!

 

Comet: I have no idea, Riley, but my super hero sense does tell me that there would be a very strong possibility of Viktor being bumped.

 

After uncovering from the shock of seeing a grown man scream like he’s dying, Soapdish asks Williams if he wants to throw in the towel. Despite being in indescribable pain, Williams manages to spit out a muffled “Hell No!”. Wide eyed with pain, a frantic Danny Williams starts scooting his way to the ropes. In a matter of seconds, Williams reaches the ropes, but Tarakanov breaks the hold, and snap mares him back in the center of the ring. Looking for another step over facelock, Tarakanov pins Williams’ left arm behind his leg, and brings his forearm around his nose line. But before Tarakanov can link his hands together, Williams grabs his forearm, holding it off his face.

 

Comet: Williams has to keep Viktor from locking that facelock on, because I doubt he can survive another one.

 

The crowd is on the edge of their seats as Tarakanov vigorously attempts to push his arm down across Danny’s face. Not making any progress, a frustrated Tarakanov gives up on the facelock, and opts to instead drag Williams up by his hair. Tarakanov slings Williams into a corner, and slams a reverse elbow into his temple! Leading Williams by his hair, Tarakanov runs him into the cross corner, and attempts to bring his head down into the top turnbuckle! Thinking fast, Williams catches himself with the ropes, spins around, and floors Tarakanov with an unexpected Elbow Smash!

 

CRACK!

 

Knocked silly, Tarakanov crawls to the center of the ring on his hands and knees, while Williams staggers to the ropes, and waits.

 

Comet: I don’t think Viktor knows where he’s at!

 

Riley: The worst shots are the ones you don’t see coming, and Viktor defiantly didn’t see that last elbow smash headed his way!

 

Tarakanov blindly stumbles to his feet, prompting Williams to bounces off the ropes at him! Ducking behind Tarakanov, Williams latches on to him with a standing Sleeperhold! Feeling the energy being drained from his body, Tarakanov wraps his huge arms around Williams’ waist, and quickly lifts him for the Backdrop! With Williams on his shoulder, Tarakanov drops back!

 

Comet: BAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK-NO!

 

Having twisted his body around on the way down, Williams lands on top of Tarakanov with a lateral press! Williams tightly hooks Tarakanov’s legs, while the fans pop out of their chairs for the pinning predicament!

 

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Tarakanov disappoints the crowd with a kick out! The Red Rage tries to scramble out of harm’s way, but Williams traps him in a kneeling Sleeperhold before he can get up!

 

Comet: And Williams goes right back to that Sleeperhold, slowly extinguishing the motivated Soviet’s fire.

 

Riley: Since the Backdrop won’t work anymore, Tarakanov needs to find another way out of the Sleeperhold, and fast!

 

Hurrying to his feet, a fading Tarakanov makes a dart for the nearest corner! The crowd “ahs” as Tarakanov cat walks up the turnbuckles, and kicks off the middle one in a last ditch effort to free himself! The momentum knocks Williams to the canvas, while Tarakanov back rolls on top of him for the pin attempt!

 

Riley: WHAT A COUNTER, THIS COULD BE IT!

 

Warming up, the crowd counts along!

 

 

 

“ONE!”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“TWO!”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Showing his power, Williams simply shoves Tarakanov off , who flops back to the mat in a barely consciousness state! Threw playing around, a fired up Williams roars at the crowd, while rotating his arm out to his side, signaling the Western Lariat!

 

Comet: A west wind is a brewing!

 

Riley: Alright, after getting a good scare off that pin attempt, it appears that Williams is finally gonna bust out the heavy artillery!

 

Williams drags the drowsy Junior League Champion to his feet, and than proceeds to drive him into the ropes with a three straight elbow smashes!

 

CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!

 

With an Irish whip, Williams sends Tarakanov stomping across the ring! Bouncing off the ropes himself, Williams sprints across the ring at Tarakanov as he makes his return run!

 

SMAAAAAAAAAAACK!

 

Williams decapitates Tarakanov with a sickening Lariat that damn near rips the big man’s head off!

 

Riley: OUCH!

 

Comet: WESTERN LARIAT FINDS THE MARK!

 

Still heating up, the crowd once again counts along as Williams rolls Tarakanov over for the pin!

 

 

 

“ONE!”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“TWO!”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

.......

 

 

 

 

 

 

The crowd pops as Tarakanov kicks out rather forcefully! Not one to dwell on a near fall, Williams frantically pulls Tarakanov up, and whips him into the ropes!

 

CRAAACK!

 

Williams catches Tarakanov with a big boot, that leaves the Soviet reeling! Dropping back into the ropes, Williams explodes forward at his wobbling opponent,....

 

CRAAAAAAACK!

 

liquefying his face with a grisly Jumping High Kick!

 

Comet: DYNAMIC KICK! DYNAMIC KICK!

 

Williams drops on top of his fallen victim, securing his legs for the pin!

 

Riley: THIS HAS TO BE IT!

 

Now officially hot, the crowd screams along with Soapdish’s count!

 

 

 

“ONE!”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“TWO!”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

..........

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“THR-OOOOOOOH!”, says the crowd with a collective sigh as Tarakanov somehow manages a weak kick out! Looking a little winded, Williams rests on the mat for a few seconds, before slowly climbing up to one knee, pondering the matter in which he will finish the SJL Champion off.

 

Riley: What will it take to keep the Red Rage down!?

 

Suddenly, a light bulb goes off in Williams’ head! Williams takes his time in pulling Tarakanov up by his tights, securing the big man in a tight rear waistlock!

 

Comet: Williams, looking to put Viktor away with a GERMAN SUPLEX!

 

Riley: Hmmm, it did put Tarakanov down for an awfully long time earlier in the match.

 

The crowd makes some noise as Williams dips his knees for the lift attempt,...

 

Crack!

 

but before he can bridge back, Tarakanov drives a reverse elbow into his skull! Crying out in pain, Williams releases Tarakanov, and brings his hands to his head in a vain attempt to block out the numbing pain that is surging through his brain!

 

Comet: All that earlier head work is paying off for Viktor, saving him from the certain death of the German Suplex!

 

Tarakanov quickly spins around, and hooks the stunned Danny Williams up in a Urange setup! Lifting Williams straight up into the air, Tarakanov spins 180 degrees, and.....

 

KA-BOOM!

 

slams him into the mat!

 

Comet: SAMBOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO SUPLEX!!!

 

 

Both men are down while the crowd watches on in stony silence.

 

Riley: Damn, this Viktor guy is dangerous! With just one move he has not only snatched control of the match, but he may have just won the damn thing.

 

Comet: That remains to be seen citizen Riley, it’s still any man’s match.

 

Still busted up from Williams’ offense, Tarakanov is a little slow in getting to his feet. Realizing that Williams is still down, Tarakanov’s eye light up with excitement. Moving with a sense of urgency, Tarakanov yanks Williams up by his arm, and ducks his head under his arm pit. Hooking Williams’ head and waist, Tarakanov lifts him up, and bridges back!

 

KA-BOOM!

 

Williams gets big air on the throw, landing awkwardly on his side, crushing his ribs!

 

Comet: DEVASTATING SAMBO SUPLEX!

 

Riley: Any man’s match eh?

 

The crowd is awe struck as Tarakanov crawls on top of Williams, hooking a leg for the pin!

 

Comet: MY FAIR CITIZENS, CAN YOU SAY BIGGEST UPSET OF THE NEW MILLENNIUM!!!

 

Riley: I KNEW THAT VIKTOR COULD DO IT!

 

The fans watch on in disbelief as Soapdish starts the count!

 

 

 

“ONE!”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“TWO!”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

..........

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“THREE!”

 

 

 

 

NO, Williams shoots his arm up at the last possible second! The near fall causes the crowd heat to reach nuclear levels, people are literally jumping and down!

 

Comet: Viktor is gonna be a big star someday, but Danny Williams isn’t gonna let it happen at his expense!

 

Physically and mentally exhausted, Tarakanov rolls off Williams, and lies on the mat, trying to catch his breath. Impressed with his fighting spirit, the crowd begins to chant...

 

“DAN-E! DAN-E! DAN-E!”

 

Knowing that he has to go on, Tarakanov grunts as he forces his creaky 41 year old body back on it’s feet. By this time, Williams has crawled to the ropes, using them to desperately get back on his feet. Drenched in sweat, the Red Rage pauses for a second with his hands on his hips, pondering the manner in which he wants to finish Williams off!

 

Riley: The victory is there for the taking, all Viktor has to do is keep his cool and execute!

 

Grabbing Williams by the arm, Tarakanov yanks him up, and leads him to the center of the ring. Tarakanov ducks under Williams’ arm pit, and calmly hooks his arm around his head, causing the crowd to nearly riot!

 

Comet: HE’S LOOKING FOR THE TRIFECTA!

 

Riley: Third times a charm.

 

But before Tarakanov can execute the deadly suplex, Williams lunges into the ropes, wrapping his free arm around them! Not to be denied his victory, Tarakanov drags Williams off the ropes, and wraps him up for the Sambo Suplex yet again!

 

 

CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!

 

Williams viciously slams reverse elbows into the temple of his captor, forcing his release! Now free, Williams spins behind Tarakanov, and....

 

SMAAAAACK!

 

clubs him in the back of the head with a vertebra shattering Lariat!

 

Comet: ENZUI LARIAT!

 

Williams and Tarakanov hit the mat together, while the impressed crowd gives a standing ovation!

 

Riley: What the hell is wrong with Viktor, doesn’t he know any moves besides the Rambo Suplex?

 

Comet: Viktor has been sticking to what he knows will work all night, only trying new things when he has too. While this has allowed him to control most of the match, he has also given Williams more than a fair share of openings, which he has gladly taking advantage of.

 

Shaking the cob webs lose, Williams rises to his feet, grabs Tarakanov by the hair, and pulls him up! Suddenly, Tarakanov swipes Williams’ hands off, and pops him with a right hand!

 

CRACK!

 

His face contorted with pain, Williams grabs his head, and crumbles to the mat! Worried, the fans pop out of their chairs one at a time.

 

Riley: AND DOWN GOES WILLIAMS!

 

Unable to stand on his own at the moment, Tarakanov drops to one knee, trying to summon enough strength to finish the match.

 

Comet: Williams has absorbed a lot of head trauma over the course of this match, and I think it may have finally caught up with him.

 

Finally able to walk, Tarakanov makes his way over to Williams, and helps him to his feet!

 

CRACK!

 

Williams catches Tarakanov off guard with a jabbing elbow smash! More annoyed than hurt, Tarakanov winds up and swings.....

 

SWOOOOOOOOOOOOOSH!

 

 

Williams ducks underneath Tarakanov’s tree trunk like arm, and grabs him around the throat in a Sleeperhold! The hot crowd roars as Williams violently twists the Soviet’s head from side to side, working the hold for all it’s worth!

 

Comet: Viktor telegraphed that one, and now he finds himself in yet another one of Danny Williams’ dreaded Sleeperholds!

 

Fighting his way to a corner, Tarakanov kicks off the middle turnbuckle like he did before, but unlike last time, Williams hooks on a body scissors and uses the momentum to pull him down to the mat! Thanks to Judge Mental, the crowd goes bat shit, anticipating the end to come any second now.

 

Comet: DOUSHIME SLEEPAAAAAAAAAAH OF JUSTICE!

 

Riley: Judge Mental defeated recent JL bumpee Charile Show with a Douche Sleeper not to long ago, but will the move be enough to knock out the current JL World Champion?!

 

Tarakanov begins to drift in and out of consciousness, still, he manages to stay awake long enough to roll into the ropes! His frustration boiling over, Williams hops to his feet, and punts away at Tarakanov’s exposed back!

 

SMACK! SMACK! SMACK!

 

Guiding his sleepy eyed opponent to his feet, Williams shoves him deep into the ropes, and shoots him off, but the Soviet surprisingly hangs on, reversing the Irish whip! The fans jump out of their chairs as Tarakanov catches Williams in a Sleeperhold of his own!

 

Comet: HE’S USING WILLIAMS’ OWN STRATEGY AGAINST HIM!

 

Riley: Not to mention that it will put pressure on his traumatized head!

 

The pain is so great that Williams collapses to a seated position, allowing Tarakanov to apply the lethal step over facelock, giving the crowd a heart attack in the process!

 

Riley: HE’S GONNA MAKE DANNY SUBMIT!

 

Still having one trick left up his sleeve, Williams reaches up, and grabs Tarakanov by the head, snapmaring him off his back! Williams waits for his pray to sit up, before tying him up with some sort of an armlock/chinlock combo!

 

Riley: WHAT’S THIS?

 

Comet: IT’S A BUFFALO SLEEPER, I DON’T THINK VIKTOR OR ANYBODY SAW THAT COMING!

 

The excited crowd is now giving a constant pop as Williams shakes his head up and down, working the hold like a mad man! Already weary from the previous Sleeper, it isn’t long before Tarakanov feels himself drifting off into the land where dreams are born. Knowing full and well the untold dangerous of passing out in a Judo “choke”, Tarakanov begins to frantically tap the mat with his free hand!

 

Comet: HE’S TAPPING, IT’S OVER!

 

Soapdish immediately calls for the bell!

 

DING! DING! DING!

 

With a monstrous pop, the crowd blows the roof off the arena in celebration! Excited beyond words, Williams releases Tarakanov, leaps up on the second turnbuckle, and starts pumping his fist into the air!

 

Comet: Despite a valiant effort from the SJL World Champion, Danny Williams is now one step closer to reaching his dream!

 

Riley: Mark my words, this isn’t the last we’ll see of Tarakanov. This guy is still gonna make a huge impact on the tournament, I guarantee it.

 

Comet: Stay tuned fair citizens, because we got more tournament action headed your way

[Kaertos 0]

“Citizens of the world, I welcome you BACK to SWF Lockdown! I… AM… CYCLOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONE COMET~, alongside Bobby Riley! It’s jammed back to the rafters here at the KingDome,” Comet says, before pausing. “Which I must say, is one of the most vile and heinous structures this superhero has ever visited.”

 

“Geez. Show some respect for the commissioner’s investments, Comet,” Snorts Riley, snotty as always. “He built this place with his own two hands, you know! Remember that he only hired you back because every film you made in East Asia bombed harder than… than…” Riley’s insult trails off. Comet helpfully picks it up.

 

“You at any place except a gay bar?”

 

“Yeah, your movies bombed harder than--” Pause. “GodDAMN it.”

 

Comet gives a smirk, before getting back to the matter at hand. “Citizens, it has been a most peculiar night of action on SWF Lockdown. The honour and valour of this federation’s greatest heroes and proudest warriors has been put to task against the treachery and underhandedness of her most despicable villains and ne’er do wells!” Comet announces, heavy on the dramatic flair as usual. “And already, in the first round of this tournament, we’ve seen--”

 

Riley suddenly interrupts, “Hey! Hey! Hey! Don’t go giving away results to this thing! If the sheep haven’t been watching since the beginning, screw ‘em,” says Bobby, before pausing. “Besides, there IS football on tonight, pre-season or not. We need every last person watching the replay we can!”

 

“Your shameless corporate shilling astounds and disgusts my sense of honour, Riley,” scolds Cyclone, taking a swig of PepsiMAX™ and making sure the logo is in good view of the camera.

 

“…right. Anyway, up next we’ve got Dante Crane vs Stryke in a first round match up, like all the other one’s tonight.”

 

“All the matches have been good, friend Fauntleroy,” Riley’s face falls, but Comet ignores him, “but I’ve been looking forward to this a bit. After Dante’s impressive upset of CRIMINAL Nathaniel Kibagami on Storm, I’m interested to see where he goes. I strongly believes he possesses the gifts of righteousness, and virtue true!”

 

Riley blinks, “Comet, he’s a stoic GOTH. How could be possibly have ANY of the characteristics of a superhero?”

 

“Well, at least, some of his kicks ARE pretty spiffy, Bobby…”

 

As Riley sighs, Funyon steps into the ring and begins his standard introductions… “Ladies and gentlemen! The following match, scheduled for one fall, is a FIRST ROUND match in the SWF world heavyweight title tournament! Introducing first…”

 

The lights dim as Acid Bath’s “Cheap Vodka” beings roaring to life, pulsating lights flashing around the SmarksTron before…

 

PHHSSSSHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

 

…a huge wall of pyrotechnics fires up all across the stage! The sparks clear, and the crowd wastes little time in booing their lungs out as Stryke is revealed on the stage, the Australian looking out over the crowd with contempt on his face before quickly making his way to the ring.

 

“From Sydney, Australia! Weighing in at two-hundred twenty-six pounds… STRYYYYYYYYYYYKE!”

 

Multicolored spotlights dance over the crowd as Stryke makes his way down the ramp and slides into the ring. Stryke rolls back to his feet before moving to the nearest corner, hopping onto the 2nd turnbuckle and raising his arms to the fans, which only serves to draw more hatred from those in attendance. With the crowd suitably riled up Stryke drops back to the mat, preparing himself for the match at hand.

 

“This should be interesting enough to keep me awake, at least. Both of these guys have comparable styles, even if Stryke is… well, less strike-happy than Dante,” Says Riley, adding some rare informative commentary.

 

“Yes, chum, but we’ve yet to see the extent of Dante’s powers…” Says Comet, mystically, getting an eye from Bobby.

 

“And his opponent…”

 

All lights illuminating the [insert arena name here] dim and darkness now falls upon the crowd. A dim blue lighting raises as Marilyn Manson’s ‘Great Big White World’ starts to play, already at forty-six seconds into the song where M.W. Gacy provides soft presses of the keyboard before the vocals kick back in...

 

“I'm not attached to your world, nothing heals, nothing grows... I’m not attached to your world, nothing heals... nothing grows!”

 

An explosion of white and blue pyrotechnics goes off on the staging as the song breaks into its chorus!

 

“...cause it’s a great big white world! And we are drained of our colours! We used to love ourselves! We used to love one another!”

 

Walking out from the entrance curtain and through the smoke left behind by the pyrotechnics is ‘Sick Boy’ Dante Crane, wearing his full-length leather trenchcoat.

 

“All my stiches itch, my prescription is low, I wish you were queen... just for today. In a world so white, what else could I say?”

 

Amidst the mild cheers from the crowd, Dante continues walking down the aisle and does not take the time to acknowledge the fans. His mind is set only on one thing, beating his opponent.

 

“Coming down the aisle, weighing in at two-hundred and forty-two pounds, please welcome... ‘Sick Boy’ DDAANNNTTTTEEEE CCCRRRRAAAAANNNNNEEEE!”

 

Crane slides into the ring and disrobes his trenchcoat, handing it to the referee. He backs into his corner and leans against the turnbuckles, turning toward his Australian opponent

 

“Something has just occurred to me, Bobby.”

 

“You realized you’re an idiot wearing spandex 10 years out of date?”

 

“Nonsense,” Cyclone dismisses, likely not paying attention. “Dante can FLY, Riley! The very first quality of a superhero! Perhaps this gothic act is all a front…”

 

**DING!DING!DING!**

 

As Riley sighs, again, referee Ced Ordonez calls for the bell. Stryke and Dante start to cycle around each-other, like the beginning of most wrestling matches, trying to get a brief feel for what the other one is thinking. But this lasts only a second, as the Australian and the French-Canadian lunge in, grappling up! Both men jockey for position, trying to force the other one back enough to clinch in a hold. But Dante stumbles, and Stryke immediately pushes him back into the ropes! As the Aussie continues to force him back, Ordonez jumps in, demanding Stryke break off. After a moment of pleading, Stryke complies, stepping back after giving “Sick Boy” and indignant shove.

 

“Citizen Stryke not starting this match off on an honourable foot, I see…”

 

“But really,” questions Riley, “What did you expect? Stryke’s never been a sportsman in his career.” There’s a pause. “That’s why I wish he’d held onto the ICTV a little longer.”

 

Dante steps back towards the center of the ring, where Stryke awaits. He gives Crane a sour face as they begin to circle around each other again, and quickly duck in for another grapple. This time, there’s no pushing and shoving, as Crane rapidly transitions into a hammerlock. Stryke groans and slaps vainly at Crane, trying to get him to break. Crane grinds in the hold, but before he can do any real damage, Stryke smartly reaches underneath him and pulls out his leg! Dante acts from the canvas before Stryke can, though, and shoves him into the ropes with his free foot. Stryke comes ricocheting back, hopping over the properly stretched out Dante, who bounds up to his feet, and attempts to sling the former ICTV champ over with a hiptoss! The Australian has none of that, leaning back to block, before doubling Dante over with a kick to the stomach. Stryke quickly slings his leg over “Sick Boy’s” neck, attempting a Fame-Ass-Er, but this is easily reversed as Dante shoots upright, sending Stryke into the air!

 

…which he uses to his advantage as he comes down, locking his legs around Dante and ripping him over with a Hurricanrana!

 

“Beautiful move,” Choruses Riley, as the crowd choruses boos at Stryke’s invitation.

 

Cyclone shakes his head. “It’s so disheartening to see such impressive athleticism used for the venomous hands of evil, Bobby.”

 

Stryke ends his baying to the crowd, noting Dante’s immediate rise to his feet. Turning around to face him, both men engage in a third lockup, viciously attempting to get the better of the other! Once again, Dante is superior, quicking scoring with another hammerlock—and just as quickly giving up the advantage to Stryke, as he reverses into one of his own. Acting fast, Dante reaches back with his free hand, and pulls Stryke over with a sloppy Snapmare before he can cinch in his hold. With Stryke briefly in a sitting position, Dante takes a step back… and jumps towards him, gabbing his head and snapping his neck in a roll! The crowd gives a small cheer.

 

“Noble necksnap of heroic Hennig justice,” calls Comet!

 

Riley deadpans, “Comet, do you even know what you’re saying sometimes?”

 

“Indeed, I do, Riley. Just paying proper dividends to a dearly departed soul.”

 

“But Hennig was usually a…” Riley trails off, sighing in exasperation.

 

Stryke groans as he gets to his feet, clutching at his neck. Dante meets him the second he’s upright, sending him right back down to the canvas with a beautiful dropkick! Wobbly, Stryke gets to his feet again, and is met by Dante again, who takes his arm and begins to work a wristlock. Getting his wits about him, Stryke quickly reaches over himself and reverses into his own wristlock. Crane grimaces a bit from the pain, but rolls down, spins on the mat, kips up, and tears Stryke over with an armdrag, ala Owen Hart! The crowd applauds the display as the Aussie rolls to his feet.

 

“The crowd showing their appreciation for a nice bit of wrestling,” says Cyclone.

 

With a sour look on his face, Stryke lunges in at “Sick Boy” once again, locking in another wristlock. Before Dante can mirror his previous actions, Stryke drops to his knees, PAINFULLY jerking Crane down, face-first! The crowd boos as Stryke plants a stiff shot into his head.

 

Riley giggles, “And Stryke showing exactly what he thought of Dante’s work.”

 

Muttering, Stryke drags Crane up to his feet, cracking his painted face with several hard shots. Dante reels, and Stryke takes the opportunity to latch on a front-facelock, and drag “Sick Boy” to the nearest turnbuckle. Hopping on the second rope, the Australian raises a fist to the crowd—drawing only jeers—and hops off, spinning like a top and drilling Dante Crane with a Tornado DDT!

 

“The dastardly knave plants Dante with an EVIL maneuver,” yells Comet!

 

“Yeah, Crane got that flush on his head,” Says Riley, “And he’s gonna’ follow up with a lateral press!”

 

O…………………………N…………………………E!

 

 

 

 

 

T…………………………W…………………………O!

 

 

 

 

 

 

T……--Kickout!

 

“And fair Dante easily powers out of the first pin of the match. Justice cannot be so easily thwarted, this criminal must know!”

 

“Comet, I keep telling you. Dante’s a GOTH. Spooky pentagram, candles, incense, chicken blood goth!”

 

Comet pauses. “Hm. He’s also apparently a well-built, tight-leather, unusually pretty “goth.” I thought that might appeal to you, Riley…”

 

“…”

 

As the commentators chatter, Stryke shoots Ordonez a glare as stands up. He’s met a moment later by Dante, whom he cracks across the face again with a few hard punches. Crane stumbles back… and not to be outdone, steps back towards Stryke, getting everything into a stiff kick to the ribs! The crowd cheers at the hard **SMACK**, and cheer again as Dante follows up with a second! A third! The former ICTC champ clutches at his side, as “Sick Boy” switches feet, lashing out again and—getting nothing, as Stryke reacts, catching Datnte’s foot! Not wasting any time (in fear of an enzugiri), Stryke immediately shoves Crane’s foot over, sending him sprawling to the canvas.

 

“Heh. Stryke managing to knock Dante away before he can get really dangerous with those kicks. We saw what they did his last match to Nathaniel Kibagami…” Bobby pauses. “I wonder if Stryke went over the video?”

 

Dante quickly pops back up, but Stryke is ready for him, bouncing himself off the ropes and tearing Crane’s head off with a clothesline! The Australian immediately follows by climbing the turnbuckle, remaning perched long enough for Dante to get to his feet… and taking flight, crashing into “Sick Boy” with a missile dropkick and sending him flipping to the other side of the ring! The crowd can’t even cheer the high-flying in spite of themselves—especially with Stryke on his knees, ‘appealing’ to the audience with an exaggerated open-arm pose.

 

“As much as I enjoy this, Stryke might be taking too long annoying the crowd, here…”

 

“The fool! Heroic posing up a storm should be… well, reserved for the heroic only!” Comet cries, defiantly. “Besides, how is an evil man supposed to capture the essence of THIS!” Comet strikes a pose at the announcer’s table. Riley gives him an empty look. “Or THIS!” Comet changes poses. “Or THIS! Or THIS! Or this, or THIS, or…”

 

**thump**

 

Pause.

 

**thump**

 

“Riley, friend, I daresay that hitting your head on the desk isn’t really a heroic ‘pose’…”

 

Between Cyclone’s stupid poses and Riley wanting to kill him for it, Bobby’s statement is actually prophetic. With Stryke engaged with annoying the crowd, he doesn’t notice Dante recovering… and when the jeers suddenly turn to cheers, Stryke quizzically stands up… and sees Crane behind him! Surprised, he doesn’t react to a sudden barrage of kicks! Once again, Dante delivers several hard shots to the ribs of the Australian, backing him into the ropes amidst the cheers from the audience. But once again, Crane shifts legs, and Stryke is able to capture it in his arms. Stryke glares at “Sick Boy” with a pained expression, and begins to jaw at him angrily—which is his undoing, as Dante has enough time to bring his free leg up and rip it across his face with an enzugiri!

 

“Posing, taunting, trying to give his enemies speeches in the midst of battle…” Cyclone sighs, shaking his head. “Why doesn’t he just free himself from the shackles of evil, Bobby? It’d be easier that way. He’d be able to get away with it!”

 

“I dunno, Comet. I suppose having self-respect is better than looking like a spandex clad moron.”

 

Stryke falls to the mat, clutching at his jaw, as Dante quickly arises Not acknowledging the cheers from the audience, he pulls Stryke up as well, wrenches his arm, and Irish Whips him to the nearest turnbuckle.

 

…however, Stryke suddenly climbs up, jumps off, and catches an unprepared Crane with a second sudden missile dropkick! Dante again is sent flipping to the other side of the ring! He dazedly clambers back up, shuffling towards Stryke—but is unable to get ANYTHING done, as the Aussie jumps up, latches his legs around Crane’s neck, and takes him down with another Hurricanrana! Stryke reaches back and grabs one of Dante’s legs for a pin this time, and Ordonez counts!

 

 

O…………………………N…………………………E!

 

 

 

 

 

T…………………………W…………………………O!

 

 

 

 

 

T…………………………H…………………………REE--Kickout!

 

“Evil gets too close for comfort… but righteousness is not out of this fight yet!”

 

“Right,” Riley, getting smart, just decides to ignore Comet. “But anyway, I’m starting to wonder. Stryke’s using high-flying maneuvers AGAINST Dante. I think he DID watch the tape of the Kibagami match—he saw what Dante did when you try to out-strike him. He knows that Dante is too fast to try and ground—so he’s using Dante’s own style against him, keeping him off guard!”

 

Comet mulls, “Hmm… a man with a plan. Truly, this is some extreme treachery Dante is faced with.”

 

Stryke glares at Ced again, accusing him of a slow count without saying a word. He then looks to the huffing Dante, who rises to a sitting position. Wasting no time, Stryke grasps his arm, lines Crane up with a turnbuckle, and tosses him at it with gusto. A moment later, he charges in after, looking for a running attack… but is thwarted, as Dante gets to the turnbuckle, grabs the ropes, and slings his legs up and around Stryke’s neck! The crowd buzzes for one of Dante’s signature ‘out of no-where’ flying headscissors—but Stryke grabs him around the waist in mid-spin, wrenching Crane’s legs free of his neck, and CRUSHING him against his knee in a somewhat messy looking tilt-a-whirl backbreaker! Stryke drops for a cover, hooking the leg!

 

O…………………………N…………………………E!

 

 

 

 

T…………………………W…………………………O!

 

 

 

 

 

T…………………………H………--Dante powers out!

 

“Heh,” Riley chuckles. “Stryke’s really studied up. Dante can’t get anything going with one of his own signature cruiserweight moves!”

 

“But his next move appears to be a deviation of plan, Riley! He’s going for the single most un-crusier move I can think of!”

 

Indeed, getting frustrated, Stryke grabs Dante before he can recover and cinches in… a sleeper! The crowd groans accordingly. Dante struggles under the hold, as Stryke grips tightly along his jaw and neckline, trying to cut the flow of oxygen to the brain (And giving Ced dirty looks as he continually pesters Stryke about ‘No choke! No choke!’). As the seconds tick by, the squirming and kicking of Dante’s feet lessens, and he slacks in Stryke’s hold. The crowd begins a pretty solid amount of jeering as Ced does the ritual arm-drop. He picks it up once…

 

…it drops!

 

“Dante is on the edge of oblivion, Riley! It would be such injustice for this match to end like this!”

 

Ced picks up the arm again…

 

“I dunno, Comet…” For once, Riley doesn’t sound completely gung-ho behind a heel. “There’s something about this spot.”

 

…it drops!

 

“It just never… seems…”

 

Ced picks up the arm for a final time…

 

…

 

 

…

 

 

…

 

 

…but as he lets go, Dante’s hand shoots up!

 

“…to work,” Riley finishes with a sigh. The crowd begins to cheer as Dante picks up his second wind, slowing climbing back to his feet amidst the small “Dante! Dante!” chants, and in spite of Stryke’s repeated attempts to drag him back to the ground! Finally back to a standing position, Dante elbows Stryke in the gut once! …twice! A third time, and he finally breaks the sleeper hold! Wasting little time, he takes Stryke’s arm, and tosses him towards the ropes… slinking around behind him on the rebound and latching on a sleeper of his own! The crowd manages to cheer despite themselves!

 

“Ah-HA!” Exclaims Cyclone. “While it was once Dante Crane on the brink of oblivion, it is STRYKE who dances with the eternal twilight!”

 

“…right.”

 

Before Dante can truly cinch in the hold and grind Stryke down, the Australian mirrors the same elbowing tactic Dante used moments ago, easily breaking the hold… and immediately going behind Dante, and latching in yet ANOTHER sleeper hold!

 

“You know, this is getting ridiculous…” Riley mumbles.

 

…and slamming Dante down with a Sleeper Drop!

 

“Erm. Aheh.” Riley coughs. “Never mind…”

 

With Crane once again laid out, Stryke covers amidst a booing crowd…

 

O…………………………N…………………………E!

 

 

 

 

T…………………………W…………………………O!

 

 

 

 

T…………………………H…………………………REEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE—NO! KICKOUT! Big pop!

 

“Goddamn it! I thought he had him!” Shouts Riley!

 

“The criminal Stryke shares your sentiments, Riley… he’s not happy with our fair referee,” Comet says.

 

Indeed, Stryke blows his lid, taking serious issue with the way Ordonez has been doing counts. Ced denies any accusations from Stryke, tugging at his striped shirt to let him know that HE’S the boss here, and doing anything hasty will earn an instant DQ. Stryke grumbles, and slaps his hands together three times, all but ordering Ced to pick up his count speed anyway… and doesn’t notice as Crane creeps up from behind, pulling Stryke down with a rollup! Ced dives down!

 

ONE!TWO!THREEE—NO! KICKOUT!

 

“…” Riley is silent.

 

Comet can’t help but laugh, “Ahaha… well, he ASKED Ced to count faster.”

 

The crowd shares the laughing/cheering for a bit, as Stryke rolls to a sitting position, mouthing a “Fuck you” to Ced… and getting his mouth washed out by a kick from Dante! Stryke clutches at his jaw—and gets a stomp added for good measure—as Dante points to the turnbuckle before exiting the ring, and beginning his ascent. The crowd begins to swell as he perches on the top, waiting for the former ICTV champ to get to his feet… and turns around, springing off with a huge Moonsault!

 

…

 

The misses Stryke completely as he falls flat, ducking underneath! Dante crashes into the canvas painfully, and the crowd quickly deflates.

 

“It’s amazing how Dante’s had no luck with ANY of his flippy-floppy stuff. Meanwhile, Stryke completely threw him off by doing it himself,” Riley reiterates. “He needs to get back to it… I certain Crane can’t out-wrestle him proper.”

 

Comet speaks, “I say again, Bobby, that we’ve not even scratched the surface of Dante’s powers! He has the superhero power of flight, and I’m sure he has the righteous ability of technical skill!”

 

“Uh-huh. Well, he better hurry up and bust it out.”

 

In the ring, Dante and Stryke are slow to get up. It takes several moments (thought not long enough for Ced to begin the 10-count), but they finally both rise up… and Dante firstly bounces off the ropes, barreling down on Stryke! Moving fast, Stryke counters with a superkick… which finds nothing but air, as Crane rolls underneath, pops up, rebounds and comes at Stryke with a leg lariat… which Stryke half steps out of the way of, gets his hands up, and shoves down Dante’s legs!

 

“See what I mean? That’s not going to do anything. Stryke’s got it allllll planned out.”

 

Dante uneasily arises…and Stryke makes his next move, slinging “Sick Boy” over his shoulders in a fireman’s carry, and signaling for the Low End Theory! The crowd jeers hard, but Stryke only smirks, as he plants Crane with the modified Falcon Arrow! Clambering on top of him, Stryke reaches over for a leg, pulling back…

 

O…………………………N…………………………E!

 

 

 

 

 

 

T…………………………W…………………………O!

 

 

 

 

 

 

T…………………………H…………………………REEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE—NOOOOOO! KICKOUT! Another big pop caroms through the KingDome!

 

“Goddamn it! What the hell is UP with this guy!?” Exclaims Riley! “Stryke’s been throwing everything but the kitchen sink at him! He’s a frigging cruiserweight—he shouldn’t be so durable!”

 

“Citizen Dante is known as deceptively strong, Riley,” explains Comet. “Furthermore… added resilience! Another fixture of a superhero!”

 

As Riley sighs, Stryke gets up, looking FURIOUS. He glares at Ced one more time, but knows arguing will do know good. After a moment of pondering, he points towards the turnbuckle, and begins an ascent of his own!

 

“And the criminal Australian is looking for his INJUSTICE SPLASH!”

 

“…it’s called the All-Time High, Comet,” Riley corrects, sighing. “But this is what Stryke needs to do. Get back to his early-match gameplan!”

 

Stryke sits perched on the top turnbuckle for a few moments, sighting up the lying Dante… and then stands and leaps, exceuting his frog-splash variation…

 

…

 

…

 

“RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!”

 

…which connects with nothing but canvas! The crowd voices their approval for Dante’s quick reaction, rolling out of the way! At the table, Riley mutters something incomprehensible. On the other hand, Comet lauds.

 

“Ho ho! A nice game of possum lets Dante escape unharmed. JUSTICE~ has managed to thwart every opportunity Stryke has gotten, Riley. I think you vastly underrated Mr. Crane’s ring savvy.”

 

Having been playing a bit of possum, as Comet noted, it only takes a few seconds for Dante to regain his footing; albeit with the assistance of the ropes. Making his way over to Stryke, the French-Canadian knows that his wipeout isn’t enough to secure a pinfall. Guiding him up with one hand, Crane quickly attaches a front-facelock, tosses Stryke’s arm over his shoulder, and attempts a Fisherman’s Suplex!

 

…attempts, anyway, as Stryke blocks! Dante tries again, attempting to lift Stryke up… but his attempt is countered by a simple flick of the Australian’s foot, as he slips it behind Dante’s calf and sends him toppling to the canvas. Beathing heavily, Stryke is obviously very eager to try and finish this match, as he reaches down and grabs Dante’s legs for…

 

“The Event Horizon,” choruses Riley! “Stryke’s trying to lock in his submission finisher!”

 

“But is that such a good idea?” Asks Comet, almost cryptically. “This criminal hasn’t focused at all on Dante’s back or legs! He’s not likely to make him submit!”

 

“Crane’s taken a lot of punishment tonight, though,” says Bobby. “There’s always that chance…”

 

The crowd is a mixed bag of emotions watching the two men struggle in the ring. Dante holds his legs stiff, trying to avoid being turned over, as Stryke focuses all his energy on flipping the gothic cruiserweight. Both men push hard… hard… hard… until Stryke gives out a scream of effort, and finally just POWERS Dante onto his stomch! There’s a heavy round of jeers!

 

…which are suddenly broken—althong with Riley’s hopes—as Dante manages to squirt one of his legs free from Stryke’s grap. The Australian’s focus lost, Dante turns himself back over, and kicks him stiffly in the pit of the knee. Stryke drops as Dante arises… and grabs his arms in preparation for a Dragon Suplex!

 

“Aw, shit,” grumbles Riley. “From one finisher to another… that’s the setup for the Ethereal Suplex!”

 

“Yes!” Cries Comet! “Justice will be served indeed! I can feel it, Riley!”

 

But unfortunately, Comet is wrong. Unable to get the hold properly locked in behind Stryke’s back, the Aussie breaks a hand free, and Dante is the recipient of several hard back-elbow strikes! Crane breaks the hold proper, and grabs at his face… but is given no time to recover, as Stryke continues to come at him with several sterling right hands! Satisfied at his beating of the “Sick Boy,” Stryke grasps his arm once again, and throws him toward the turnbuckle. Dante crashes into it, his arms hanging listlessly over the ropes, as Stryke yells out…

 

“Breakdown!”

 

“…Breakdown?” inquires Comet.

 

“One of Stryke rarest of rare moves,” states Riley. “He’s gone through most of his movest in this match already… I think he feels he needs to take it one step higher to put Dante away for good!”

 

“And honestly, Comet, I don’t blame him.”

 

In preparation for the moonsault Rock Bottom off the top rope, Stryke grabs Dante and sits him on the top turnbuckle. He slowly begins to step to the top himself, taking extra time to jaw with the mouthy fans at ringside. Finally, he slides his arm under Dante, and places it laterally across his chest, preparing to stand up on the top rope…

 

…but he can’t! The crowd begins to swell as they see Dante has a firm grip on the ropes! Stryke tries as hard as he can, but can’t budge Dante from where he is!

 

Riley blanches, “Uh-oh.”

 

“Stryke is in a terribly precarious position if he can’t get this move off,” Says Comet, before he continues, “But fate is a harsh mistress, and justice will always prevail in the end! Stryke must learn this!”

 

Being a superhero, Comet’s psychic powers stay true. As Stryke gets more and more aggravated trying to bring Dante off the turnbuckle, he begins to lose his balance, and can do little as Dante shoves him off with his overhooked arm! Stryke crashes to the mat, as Dante is able to stand up the turnbuckle by himself. He lines up the Aussie as he stumbles upright, and the crowd ROARS for…

 

“FLYING HEADSCISSORS… of JUSTICE~!” Yells Comet, his voice mysteriously echoing.

 

“No! This is all going awry! Stryke had the total advantage!”

 

And now, Stryke is nearly driven right through the mat! Both Dante and Stryke are left sprawled out aftrer the move, and Ced begins the count…

 

ONE!

 

…

 

TWO!

 

…

 

THREE!

 

 

The crowd begins another small “Dante! Dante!” chant.

 

FOUR!

 

…

 

FIVE!

 

Stryke groans, and begins to push himself up.

 

 

SIX!

 

Dante does the same, with the assistance of the nearby ropes.

 

SEVEN!

 

It’s a snail’s race, as both men inch upright…

 

EIGHT!

 

“Stryke’s up!” Yells Bobby.

 

NINE!

 

“And so is Dante!” Cyclone counters.

 

Ced disperses with his count, as both men wobble to their feet. They shamble toward each other… and Stryke is able to react first, getting another hard fist on Dante! A second rocks “Sick Boy” back into the ropes, and the former ICTV champ takes his hand, bouncing him off into the opposite cords! He ducks into a ready crouch, looking to take Dante’s head off with a huge clothesline…

 

…

 

…but misses entirely with the lunge! Dante Crane ducks under the attempts, sees his best opportunity, and pivots behind Stryke! He grabs both his arms, locking them tight in another attempt for the Ethereal Suplex!

 

“Break!” Riley panics! “Break the hold again!”

 

Stryke struggles… but it’s no good! The crowd pops as Dante throws all two-hundred twenty-six pounds of Aussie backwards, compressing his neck STRAIGHT into the mat with the brutal Dragon Suplex! He holds for the bridge, as Ordonez drops down to count!

 

O…………………………N…………………………E!

 

 

 

 

 

 

T…………………………W…………………………O!

 

 

 

 

 

 

T…………………………H…………………………REEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!

 

**DING!DING!DING!**

 

“The winner of this match,” booms Funyon, “and advancing into the quarter-finals of the winner’s bracket… “SICK BOY”… DANTE… CRAAAAAAAAAAAAAANE!”

 

Great Big White World kicks in, as Ced holds up Dante’s hand. Exhausted, Dante doesn’t wish to bathe in the lauding audience, but rather quickly exits the ring, heading towards the back.

 

Comet sounds eminently satisfied, “Another day, another job well done. Evil is thwarted, and the world may rest easy.”

 

“Right,” grumbles Riley. “How the HELL did this happen!? Stryke built such a huge advantage! He had such a solid gameplan!”

 

“Ah, but Riley, you fail to notice. Dante used his ring experienced savvy and yet-unseen technical skill to out-maneuver Stryke. This man is more than a typical shallow cruiserweight.”

 

“So I suppose we won’t see him on Ejiro’s leash anytime soon?” Riley deadpans. “Bah. Well, up next, we’ve actually got Ejiro set to dismantle Dace Night. And the main event, where his partner runs Annie Eclectic through the ringer is still to come! I can win this night yet, Comet! You just wait!”

 

“Sure you can, dear Fauntleroy. Suuuuuure you can”

 

And on Comet’s taunt, we exeunt for commercials.

[Kaertos 0]

We will return to exciting SWF action in just a few moments, but before we do let us take a little trip backstage to see what we can see. And what we see is the aggressive duo of Justice and Rule hanging outside of a locker room with a Magnificent Seven logo emblazoned on the door. But oddly enough, neither man seems exactly in a hurry to return to their assigned dressing area.

 

“You know something, William?” asks the United States Champion. “I really am just not in the mood for this nonsense.”

 

The Judge answers, “Well, no one ever said it was going to be easy.”

 

“No one said I was going to get in trouble with the boss about this either. Hell we both have really good chances at running the table in this tournament. This is our chance to prove that we can carry the ball for Tom and every other leader the Magnificent Seven ever had. That we can be leaders too, but how are we supposed to do that while … he keeps us in the dog house.”

 

Hearford thinks carefully for a moment before speaking, “Look, you need to set this down for the boy. Outline the situation and make sure he knows that his actions don’t just reflect on him but every one of us. He needs to understand that you are his best friend in the world right now. Get in there and clear his head, I’ll be back in a few minutes and want a locker room that is clear of this nonsense. You got it?”

 

Not even waiting for an answer, William Hearford walks off camera as Ejiro places his hands on his hips in response. Shrugging his shoulders in an exacerbated way, Fasaki sucks in a lung full of air before charging into the locker room. And as the camera follows Fasaki into the room, it catches the sight of the man in question, Wildchild. With his back to the camera, The Human Hurricane does not turn to the camera as his body language clearly displays quite a bit of depression and frustration.

 

“Hey Wildchild!” shouts Fasaki as he enters the room and saddles up to the side of his new student. Looking right at Wildchild although we cannot, Ejiro continues to speak. “You know, you could probably stand to be a little more upbeat my man. After all, I don’t take this amount of my time to spend with just anyone to teach him what to do with his career. But you my friend, you have talent. You can outshine all these second rate workers. You can be somebody. But you have to understand some things. Things about the business… like take this Johnny Dangerous thing.”

 

Wildchild stirs his head upward at the sound of the name of his former tag team partner. But still he remains silent as Ejiro Fasaki continues with his little lecture.

 

“Now, I know that you really hate Johnny Dangerous. Hell, I’ve hated Dangerous since the moment I first met him. There are very few things in this world that would give me more pleasure than ripping out one of his eyes. But I’m no going to do that right now. And do you know why? Because the OWNER of the BLEEDING COMPANY doesn’t want Johnny touched! He is protected from up on high by the prince of darkness! So the last thing you want to do is attack him … when anyone is looking. Much less when he’s standing right outside The Suicide King’s office. So wait in the parking lot and wear a mask or something and hit him in the face with a brick.”

 

Wildchild’s chin lifts in a questioning manner as Ejiro looks at his new protégé with a smile. But still Wildchild does not appear too lighten up all that much as far as his demeanor is concerned.

 

“Still not happy huh,” questions Fasaki. “Well I know why that is. You’re a little upset because of the little disciplinary action I’m making you do tonight. Well get over it. Everything you do that you don’t want to builds up your discipline. Builds up your focus. Builds up your anger. And I want you angry Wildchild. I want you so angry that you’ll be willing to kill to get your business done. Now… I’m done telling you this stuff time and again. So now I’m going to show you tonight as I dissect Dace Night. And you’re going to see every second of how a real champion handles himself. You understand? Good.”

 

Walking away from Wildchild, Ejiro leaves the frame of the camera as it focuses in on the stationary back of The Human Hurricane. But he neither turns to the camera or even acknowledges its existence as the camera fades to black.

[Kaertos 0]

The camera swings about the Kingdom time and again, seeking out such fans holding such signs as “The House that King Built” as well as “FU Fasaki”. The people of North Dakota shout long and hard in appreciation for the fine tournament action that they have already seen tonight. And although it has already been a long night of competition, the crowd still understands that they are watching history being made.

 

“I have to admit Comet, that thus far this tournament has ha some very interesting results,” calls out Bobby Riley.

 

“But there is still a ton more fun to be had by our fans,” notes The Cyclone Comet, “Still on tap will be CIA taking on the recently unmasked Sean Atlas now reclaiming the mantel of Spike. One half of our Tag Team Champions, Show will take on newcomer stand out Aecas. And in the main event, it will be the battle of SJL commentators as Annie Eclectic puts it on the line against Judge William Hearford.”

 

“And speaking of the SJL commentary team,” interrupts Riley, “the third member of that squad is just moments away from taking on the always dangerous bad man from Birmingham, Dace Night.”

 

Stepping into the center of the ring once again with an appreciative look to the North Dakota populace, Funyon calls out to the people. “Ladies and Gentlemen, this next contest is scheduled for one fall with no time limit and is part of the SWF Genesis IV Title Tournament! Introducing first…”

 

OOOOOOOOOO SAYYYYYYYYYY, CAN YOU SEEEEEEEEEE

 

Stepping through the curtain enters the grinning mug of the annoying Ejiro Fasaki. Wearing his customary Justice and Rule red on black Football Jersey and his United States Heavyweight Title, Fasaki happily salutes the booing crowd with his usual obnoxious fashion. Looking behind him with a casual glance, Ejiro signals to his protégé to follow him down tot he ring. And so comes the downcast face of Wildchild who doggedly suffers the indignity of having to wear tennis shoes and carry the United States Flag. But Fasaki always has a fresh way of making Wildchild feel even more downcast as is clearly evidenced by the fact that Wildchild’s colorful face paint that used to reflect his Bahamas heritage is now replaced with the colors of red, white, and blue.

 

AND THE HOOOOOOOOME OF THE BRAVEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE~!

 

Funyon continues as the sound of the Star Spangled Banner fades into the night, “He weighs in tonight at 188 pounds and represents the elite force in all of wrestling, The Magnificent Seven. Hailing from Sarasota, Florida and accompanied to the ring by Wildchild, he is the current reigning SWF United States Champion. This is EEEEEJIROOOOO FASAKIIIIII~!”

 

With Wildchild taking up his position on the floor with his eyes on the ground, Ejiro Fasaki saunters into the center of the ring and raises his title belt high before handing it off to a ringside attendant. Reaching out to the ring announcer, Fasaki pulls the stick away from Funyon for what is sure to be some enlightening commentary on the state of the union.

 

“You know,” begins Ejiro, “I am starting to think that this country is full of a bunch of lily-livered cowards who don’t have the stones to be real Americans. How you all can sit on your asses while a Real American Hero stands before you, ready to defend your honor from a British Invader? Hell Dace would probably jump at the chance to make all of you drink tea and eat meat pies in the name of some old lady that lives in a castle back in England if you gave him the chance.”

 

“FU FASAKI! FU FASAKI! FU FASAKI!”

 

“Oh F me? F me? Look folks, at least you do not see me having black masses backstage with goats and pentagrams like Mr. Satan back there! Oh yeah, it is no secret that Dace is a worshipper of the Dark Lord… yeah, that’s what too much Dungeons & Dragons will do to you kids. You’ll end up being a scared piece of garbage that Ejiro Fasaki is going to beat the heck out of in just a few seconds. Because while all you punks are sniffing incense and worried about your dagger +1/+3 against Ogres, I was training to beat the devil right out of you! So bring on Dace Night, because I’m better than him… and I will prove it!”

 

And at that, the lights immediately turn down to the point of pitch darkness as a billowing cloud of dark smoke emanates from backstage into the air. With the sounds of “Justifiable Homicide” pounding through the speaker system of the Kingdome, purple and red lights dance about the arena. Settling down on the ramp way, the lights illuminate the path to the ring that the High Priest of Horrorcore must walk before getting his hands on the United States Patriot. With a T-shirt that proclaims that he s indeed “Protected By Satan”, Dace Night does not bother to deny a thing that Fasaki had to say about him. Stepping though the ropes, Night lets loose a howl as he places the horns high in the air much to the delight of a number of fans that happily return this salute. Turning his attention to Rule, Dace stretches against the ropes as Funyon continues with his announcing duties.

 

Funyon calls out, “And his opponent… he weighs in tonight at 250 pounds and hails from Birmingham, England. Representing The Unholy Trinity, this is ‘The High Priest of Horrorcore’ DACEEEEE NIGHT!”

 

Applauded simply for being his own brand of person, Dace Night allows the cheers of the populace to simply wash over him as he makes note of the shoddy state of his former partner in the Junior Leagues. Shaking his head at Wildchild in what would be Night’s interpretation of regret, Dace puts his attention right back on the hated Fasaki. But Ejiro only smiles as Night’s eyes focus clearly on one half of Justice and Rule. Coming together in the middle of the ring with Night, Ejiro quickly snaps out of the collar-and-elbow lock up and slaps on a headlock. But the powerful Night has no time to simply idle the day away with Fasaki clamped on his neck. Shrugging Ejiro right off into the ropes, Dace widens his base and plasters Fasaki right down to the mat with a hard shoulder tackle.

 

“Ejiro Fasaki should know better than try to match power with Dace Night,” notes the Comet. “It’s like Aquaman trying to out punch Superman, it is simply not going to happen.”

 

“Why must everything with you be about superheroes?”

 

“… Why does everything with you have to be about Tom Flesher’s ass?”

 

“Touché.”

 

Rolling the safety of the ropes, Fasaki escapes the possibility of Dace being able to press forward with this momentary advantage. Looking out of the ring at Wildchild, Ejiro nudges his head at Night as if to ask if ask Wildchild if he’s actually facing a real live human being. The Human Hurricane only chuckles at the look and continues to just simply hold the United States flag at his shoulder. Hopping to his feet, Ejiro looks to get another piece of The High Priest of Horrorcore. Locking up in a collar-and-elbow once again, Fasaki and Night jockey for a moment before Ejiro uses his speed advantage to dart behind Night with a tight waist. But once more, Dace is barely in check for a moment before he finds a way to counter. Jutting out his hips away from Fasaki’s grasp, Night pushes down with his hands to break the hold. Snagging Ejiro by the wrist, Dace drops to a knee and uses his leverage to send Fasaki over his back with a modified judo throw. Keeping Fasaki in front of his where he can control the action, Night quickly slips in a rear chinlock to keep Ejiro down on the mat.

 

“Good counter wrestling by Dace Night,” notes Cyclone. “A whole lot of people seem to think that because he cuts into a person with a weed whacker, that Night is unable to wrestle inside that squared circle. But as you all can clearly tell, Night can work the mat just as well as even the well schooled Ejiro Fasaki can.”

 

But as Comet said, Fasaki is no slouch when it comes to on the mat wrestling as he muscles up underneath Dace just enough to provide enough room to switch out of the chinlock and gain control with a hammer lock. But once again, that control is short-lived as Dace fights right off the mat and up to his vertical base. Reaching between his legs, Night looks for a single leg but finds that Ejiro has guarded well against that defense. So instead, Night reaches back with his hand and catches a hold of Fasaki’s head. Dipping down to a knee once again, Night takes Ejiro over with a snap mare that once again brings Fasaki to the mat right in front of the hardcore warrior. This time choosing to go for a neck wrench, Night continues to work on Ejiro’s neck in a likely attempt to set Ejiro up for some later high impact offense. But as Dace continues to move Fasaki’s head at an unnatural angle, Rule continues to snake his way towards the ropes. Finally tossing a leg out underneath the bottom rope, Fasaki forces referee Nick Soapdish to step in and count for a break.

 

“It’s always easier to get to the ropes than it is to counter out of the hold,” recalls Bobby Riley. “Sure some people might think it’s the cowards way out and that a real man would counter out of a hold, but it is quite simply more energy efficient to use the ring itself to get yourself out of a pickle. And then later that night, get the pickle into you…”

 

But even as he releases the neck wrench, Dace has no intention of allowing Ejiro a free pass. Jerking Ejiro back into center of the ring by the hair, Night pulls Ejiro’s chin back and lowers the boom across the chest with hard forearm smashes. Rocking Ejiro’s rib cage suitably enough for his purposes, Dace takes Rule by the hair and brings him all the way up to his feet. With another hard forearm blow across the face, Night gets the opening he needs to hook Fasaki around the head before lifting him high into the air for a suplex. Showing his incredible power, Dace simply continues to hold Fasaki up in the air upside down for almost fifteen seconds before finally falling backward and driving the United States champion strait into the canvas. Floating ver on impact, Dace hooks the leg as Soapdish dives across the mat to count away…

 

ONE!

 

TWOOOONNNNNNNNNOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

 

Kicking out from underneath Dace’s two hundred fifty pounds, Fasaki keeps his shoulders off the mat as Night tries to find purchase on another submission maneuver. And once again, this strategy pays dividends as Night manages to latch onto Fasaki’s neck once again with a cravat. Bending Fasaki over his forearm, night continues to apply pressure as the United States Champion continues to feel said pressure working to pop his head off his shoulders.

 

“Dace is doing an expert job working Fasaki over at this point in time,” notes The Cyclone Comet. “He’s using basic holds to both utilize his power advantage while at the same time keeping Ejiro from using his speed to effect an escape.”

 

“But you have to admit,” answers Riley, “Dace Night is not known exactly for his patience. Sooner or later, he is going to want tossing bombs at Fasaki. And it looks to me as though Fasaki is just waiting for Night to throw that fastball before taking his big swing at the fences.”

 

“You spent way too long commentating with Mark Stevens didn’t you Riley.”

 

“Yeah in a few months, I’ll be all about The Punisher.”

 

Pulling the struggling Fasaki over to a turnbuckle, Dace uses the cravat to force Ejiro back into the corner. Releasing Fasaki from the hold, Dace uses the weakness that he has caused in Fasaki to release an elbow into the face of the stunned Rule. Rocking Fasaki back on his heels, Dace continues with his strikes by once again burying his elbow into the sternum of Fasaki. Grabbing Ejiro by the head, Dace pulls Fasaki back into the center of the ring and forcibly lowers Fasaki into a doubled over position. And it is there where The High Priest of Horrorcore begins to lower the boom with a series of hard knees into the forehead of his opponent before a final knee sends Fasaki falling strait backward to the mat. Quickly trying to capitalize, Dace picks up both of Ejiro’s legs and attempts to turn Rule over onto his stomach with a Boston Crab. But having trained with another expert of the crab for so long, Fasaki quickly manages to turn onto his back and uses the torque of his own body to flip Night loose and send the member of The Unholy Trinity member rolling to the mat. Getting to his feet immediately, Night watches on as Fasaki sends himself into the ropes to hopefully pick up the pace of the contest. But The High Priest of Horrorcore is ready and waiting to toss out a lariat aimed right at the face of Ejiro Fasaki. But no connection is made as Fasaki ducks low and returns to knock Dace off balance with a running forearm across the chest.

 

“Fasaki has some room,” says Comet, “he had better make the most of it.”

 

Slamming another forearm across Night’s wide chest, Fasaki knocks Night right back on his heels once again. Popping into the ropes once again, Ejiro rebounds and finally manages to take Night down with a spinning wheel kick that smacks him right across the upper chest. Keeping on the virtually unbeatable Night as best he can, Ejiro begins to chop away at the larger Unholy Trinity member with a number of hard elbows to the back of the neck. Keeping Night down on his knees, Ejiro pops into the ropes for more momentum before delivering a shocking dropkick into the chest. Hopping right back to his feet, Fasaki takes a moment to give the crowd yet another military style salute in order to draw the crowd’s ire yet again.

 

“FU FASAKI! FU FASAKI! FU FASAKI!”

 

Smiling at his favorite chant, Fasaki takes a moment to tell Wildchild that this match is just about done. Finally scrambling on top of Dace, Ejiro hooks up a leg to see just how well his offensive barrage has worked on the Bad Man from Birmingham.

 

ONNOOOOOOOOOOOO!

 

I guess not that well.

 

Shrugging Fasaki off with virtually no trouble at all, Night forces Fasaki off his lateral press with an immediate kick out that shocks the spit out of The United States Champion as well as the referee. But Fasaki is nothing if not dogmatic as he continues to attempt to pound away with a series of sharp elbows to the chest and head of the rapidly rising Dace Night. But Night just simply absorbs the pain as he rises up underneath the barrage from the United States Champion. Frustrated by his complete lack of effectiveness, Fasaki once more backs into the ropes for momentum, but that doesn’t turn out quite so well either…

 

KABOOOOOOOOOOOOOM~!

 

“YAKUZA KICK~! And Fasaki is out of here!”

 

Shattered by the heavy kick to the face just as he bounced off the ropes, Fasaki goes flying right over the top rope and to the floor from the force of the kick. Shaking his head in order in almost contempt, Dace shrugs off all of the pounding that Ejiro had attempted in order to do some damage. Going right on out of the ring after Fasaki, Night brushes right past the rather amused Bahamas Bomber in order to get his hands back on his opponent. Snagging Fasaki into a slam position, Dace almost casually drops Fasaki across the top of the ring railing and once again brings the pain to Fasaki’s battered neck area. But before Fasaki can even fall to the hard arena floor, Dace is already there to continue the punishment. Grabbing a handful of hair, Dace pulls Ejiro forward once again and rams his face strait on into the side of the ring post with a sickening…

 

CLANG!

 

Shattering to the canvas, Ejiro soon finds himself lifted off the floor once again and sent right back into the ring by the determined Dace Night. Following Rule back inside the ring, Dace lays into a rising Fasaki with just a brutal kick that knocks Fasaki flat against the canvas. Kneeling before the crushed Rule, Dace brings the referee to the mat to make a three count.

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

THNOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

 

Still having some fight left in him, Fasaki manages to force a shoulder off the canvas before the referee can make the final count of three. So in Dace’s mind, it is simply time to raise the ante. Plucking Ejiro off the canvas again, Dace ducks in behind the staggered Fasaki and looks to bury him backward with a hard backdrop suplex. But the wily Fasaki wisely counters the throw by reaching out and grabbing a hold of the top rope to keep from being lifted into the air. Twice more, Dace tries to drop Fasaki right on his head only to find his leverage frustrated by Fasaki’s refusal to let go of the top rope. Trying to enforce the rule, Soapdish complains to Dace to release his hold only to miss a larger infraction that is only moments away.

 

ACHE!

 

With an atomic bomb going off between his legs, Dace Night releases Fasaki and crumbles to the mat in a heap. But the referee is none the wiser as he had completely missed the moment where Fasaki had hooked his leg backward and into the groin of his hardcore adversary.

 

“FU FASAKI! FU FASAKI! FU FASAKI!”

 

“Oh come on!” admonishes Comet.

 

Riley quickly adds, “Hey, Fasaki couldn’t out wrestle Dace. He couldn’t out fight him. So when all else fails go strait to the cheating. It’s the one gift man gives himself.”

 

Trying to shake loose the amount of pain that he’s taken in this match up, Fasaki slumps forward into a corner in order to try and recover as Dace himself has to take a few moments to gather his wits about him. Finding his way up to his feet, Dace painfully sets his targets back on Rule who continues to simply hang in the corner attempting to get his neck together. But still Fasaki is able to turn in time to bear witness to the fact of a charging Dace Night.

 

And a little more…

 

WHAM!

 

“HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT! HOLY SHIT!”

 

Ducking his head as Dace runs forward, Ejiro manages to elevate Night up and over with a backdrop. But this is not your common backdrop where the person lands on the mat. Instead, due to his position in the corner, Fasaki manages to lift Night up just enough so that the hardcore grappler’s back is virtually impaled on the turnbuckles for just a moment before he tumbles all the way out of the ring and to the arena floor!

 

“OH GOOD GOD HE MAY BE DEAD!” reports The Cyclone Comet as the crowd rises as one to cheer on the spectacle of Dace Night being crippled.

 

Quickly racing around the ring to his former partner, Wildchild drops to his knees to make sure that Dace is still able to move. But Wildchild does not have long to mourn his fallen former friend before Ejiro Fasaki dips out of the ring and moves to take advantage of his opponent. But Wildchild is not about to just allow Ejiro to assault Night any further injury. Standing right in between Dace and his would be attacker; Wildchild refuses to move even as Fasaki orders his departure.

 

“Come on,” calls out Riley, “Wildchild is contractually obligated to do whatever Ejiro tells him! He has no right to govern his own actions!”

 

“Every man has control over what he is and what he does,” replies Comet.

 

SMACK!

 

“Oh shit.”

 

Sending Wildchild back a step with a hard smack across the face, Ejiro Fasaki almost roars out in rage for the human Hurricane to get out of his path. But knowing that he can’t strike Fasaki without costing Dace the match, Wildchild merely stands firm to buy The High Priest of Horrorcore some time to recover from his sick fall to the floor. But a forth party intervenes as referee Nick Soapdish slips to the outside and tries to break up the shenanigans before it breaks completely out of control. Grabbing Wildchild around the waist, Soapdish begins to separate the ‘teacher’ and the ‘student’. Pulling Wildchild away from Fasaki, Nick begins to escort The Bahamas Bomber away from the ring. And of course, if you have been paying attention, you know that Rule is going to take advantage of the situation.

 

CLANG!

 

Pulling a steel chair away from a ringside attendant, Fasaki pulls the steel weapon back and slams it back down right on the small of Dace’s back with such vile anger that it would make a nun vomit.

 

FU FASAKI! FU FASAKI! FU FASAKI! FU FASAKI! FU FASAKI!

 

Wildchild finally removed from the equation, Soapdish returns to the ring to find Dace pretty much in the same position that he left him. But the audience at home and in the arena sure know that there is a difference as Night holds onto his back and struggles to raise up his body underneath the pain of the his aching back. Thankfully, Fasaki is totally happy to assist in helping The High Priest of Horrorcore back inside the ring. Tossing Dace underneath the bottom rope, Ejiro is soon to follow Night into the ring and make a lateral press, as Soapdish is only a second behind both wrestlers to make the count.

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

THREEEEEEEEEEEEEFOOTSOUT!

 

Reaching out with his foot, the member of The Unholy Trinity barely manages to stave off being shunted to the losers bracket of the Genesis IV Tournament.

 

“What a narrow escape by the High Priest of Horrorcore,” says The Cyclone Comet. “Even taking a low blow, a backdrop to the turnbuckle, and a shot to the back with a steel chair is not enough to keep this man down. He’s all man and a mile wide.”

 

“Wow, I think I need to pay a little more attention to Dace Night from here on out. You have a source for that Comet?”

 

Looking at the referee like he just grew a second head; Fasaki argues that regardless of the rope break that this match should be indeed in the books. But still, that minor frustration is not about to keep Ejiro from continuing to go to work on Dace Night. Pulling Dace up off the mat and moving him closer to the center of the ring, Rule grabs Night around the waist and pulls him up in position for a side suplex. But instead of dropping Night down to the mat, Ejiro extends a knee and drops Dace across it with a terrible impact. Dropping down and hooking a leg, Fasaki hopes that this will be the end of Dace Night.

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

THREEEEEEEEEEEEEAHHHHHHHHHHHELLLLLLLLLLLNOOOOOOOOOOO!

 

“DACE F’N NIGHT! DACE F’N NIGHT! DACE F’N NIGHT!”

 

“This capacity crowd is coming unglued for the bad ass Dace Night. Its getting to the point where you have to wonder just what trick Fasaki can pull that is going to get him out of this terrible mess.”

 

Riley rants, “Fasaki has to win! He has to prove that The Unholy Trinity winning the tag belts were just a fluke. He has to prove that he’s World Championship material. He has to prove that he’s better than Dace Night!”

 

But that is simply just harder done than said and Fasaki still has to actually keep Night down for the three counts. Corralling Dace once more, Ejiro sends the master of Horrorcore into the ropes and looks to elevate him once again with a backdrop. But this time, Dace is able to put the breaks on and snap a kick right into the chest of the doubled over Rule. And with Fasaki providing an excellent target, Dace launches one big missile as he nearly takes off Ejiro’s head with a devastating…

 

“LARIATOOOOOOOOOOOOOO~! COVER!”

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

THRENOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

 

“Fasaki kicked out! Dace through all he had into that desperation clothesline and it wasn’t enough to keep Fasaki down! But can Dace take that move and parlay it into a win here?”

 

He is sure as hell going to try as he pulls the temporarily stunned Fasaki and pulls his head in between his legs in what looks to be a powerbomb attempt. But as Dace makes the move to pull Fasaki up to shoulder level, a twinge in his back becomes a searing stabbing pain as he suddenly loses all thought as far as driving Fasaki into the mat as both men collapse to the mat in a sickening heap.

 

“That’s a major feather in the cap of Ejiro Fasaki,” calls out Bobby Riley. “If Dace night can’t lift you, that means he can’t drop you on your head. And that means that Night is going to have to depend on his strikes and submissions. Sure, those are powerful weapons in his arsenal, but it takes a dimension off his game and that’s a major problem.”

 

And although Dace Night can’t hear what Bobby Riley was just saying, he also knows the same exact thing. Getting to his feet about the same time as the stunned Fasaki, Dace manages to strike first as he drives a hard elbow into the temple of the member of the Magnificent Seven and knocks Fasaki flat to the mat. But The United States Champion is not out of the woods yet as he rolls to his feet almost immediately after flopping to the mat. But Dace Night is there to one again smash his cranium with a savage elbow to the side of the head once again. Stepping back to the ropes, Dace lowers into a crouch and waits on Ejiro to get back to his feet.

 

And rise Ejiro does….

 

And Dace charges in…

 

And CONNECT HE DOES~!

 

CRACK!

 

“YAKUZAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA KICK!”

 

“DACE F’N NIGHT! DACE F’N NIGHT! DACE F’N NIGHT!”

 

Almost collapsing on top of Ejiro, Dace watches carefully as the referee’s hand rises and falls…

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

THREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEENOOOOOOOOOOOOOKICKOUT~!

 

“Ejiro Fasaki is still not out of this match yet!”

 

“But I think Dace is going to try and put him out right now.”

 

Rolling to his feet in pained frustration, Night once again pulls a stunned Ejiro Fasaki off the mat and brings him ever closer to the center of the ring. Slamming down on the back of Fasaki’s head with a clubbing forearm, Night knocks Fasaki down to his knees and into position for what the High Priest of Horrorcore has in mind for his opponent. Quickly locking down on Fasaki, Night looks to finally choke him the hell out with a savage front face lock! Ripping and tearing Fasaki from side to side, Night looks to hook his hands right underneath the throat and end this contest, as the crowd knows just the result they want to see.

 

“TAP! TAP! TAP! TAP! TAP! TAP! TAP! TAP! TAP! TAP!”

 

“Fasaki needs to get out of this right now or Night will put him away!”

 

“He’s got his legs underneath him!”

 

Fighting right up to his feet with Dace still attached to his head, Fasaki surges forward and crushes Night against the turnbuckles with all of his weight behind him!

 

WHAM!

 

“Fasaki knew the counter to that hold,” notes Riley, “after all he just taught it Wildchild as we saw last week!”

 

Screaming out in pain, Night is unable to keep his grip firm on the head of the United States Champion. So as Fasaki reaches up and snags Dace by the wrist, the Horrorcore Master is unable to defend as Fasaki spins right out of the facelock and takes Dace flat to the canvas with a Fujiwara armbar!

 

“Here it comes,” screams Riley as Fasaki adjusts his grip on the stunned Dace Night! “COBRA CROSSFACE IS ON!”

 

“Don’t quit Dace!” cheers on The Cyclone Comet. “Don’t quit! Don’t let that bastard beat you.”

 

“DACE F’N NIGHT! DACE F’N NIGHT! DACE F’N NIGHT!”

 

But the pressure is on as Fasaki wrenches back with the hold with as much leverage as he can muster. And with his back as messed up as it is, Night does not seem to have the power to move himself to the ropes. Inch by inch, the pain grows all over his body. From the numbness in his toes to the ache that grows ever stronger in his neck, Dace Night has no choice but…

 

TAP! TAP! TAP!

 

“It’s over,” says a dejected Cyclone Comet. “Dace Night gave this match all he had, but Fasaki managed to pull this one out with as much dirty play as he could muster.”

 

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” answers Riley. “Ejiro Fasaki did what he had to and don’t think Dace wouldn’t have done the exact same thing! But Fasaki did it first and he’s advancing in the tournament just ask Funyon.”

 

“The winner of this contest and advancing in the winner’s bracket of the Genesis IV Tournament… SWF United States Champion EEEEEEEJIROOOOOO FASAKIIIIIIIIIIII!”

 

Releasing Dace’s head at the referee’s behest, Fasaki rolls up to his knees and soaks in the horror of the fans that just saw him uncle the man everyone thought was indestructible.

 

 

 

But everyone has a weakness.

[Kaertos 0]

”Welcome back to Lockdown!” exclaims the animated voice of Cyclone Comet. “In nine matches, the fate of 18 people has already been decided, and we still have half a dozen to go through!”

 

“This World Title Tournament is shaping up quite nicely so far, with several Junior Leaguers advancing to the next round in the winner’s bracket, along with many SWF veterans.” Riley says. “The losers though, will have a chance to go on, as everybody gets another shot at keeping their spot in the tourney.”

 

“But more importantly, we’ve got quite an ironic match coming up next! CIA, the last remaining masked man in the SWF, will take on Spike, who tonight has made himself a thorn in the side of our commissioner!”

 

“King promised to make things hard for Spike, and with his recent acquisition of a majority stake of the SWF, he has the authority to do whatever he wishes.” Riley notes.

 

“Perhaps, my colorful cohort.” Comet replies. “However, it has always been my belief that in the end, Justice will prevail, and the Smartmarks Winners Federation shall not succumb to its rule monger of an owner.”

 

“Right.” Says Riley, blinking.

 

 

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

 

Amazingly, CIA stops in the center of the steel rampway, looking in towards the ring. Turning towards the fans, CIA unzips his Team Canada hoodie and throws it off himself, then starts to walk towards the ring as he tosses the prized hoodie into the crowd.

 

“The following match is set for one fall!” Funyon announces. “Introducing first, from Ottowa, Ontario, Canada, weighing in at 245 pounds, please welcome... CCCEEEEEEE AAAIIIIII AAAAAAAAAAYYYYY!!!”

 

 

“The last we saw of CIA, he was getting his cojones handed to him by recent bumpee John Duran.” Riley notes. “That is, after losing his shot at the Tag Team titles with Mak Francis. He now has to face a former World Champion in Spike, and though they have met before, their first encounter ended in a disqualification care of then Beezel, now Annie Eclectic.”

 

“For all we know, Riley, CIA very well could have won that match.” Cyclone Comet says. “But Atlas was so busy trying to remove his mask, that CIA lost sight of the task at hand”

 

 

CIA arrives at ringside, sliding in under the bottom rope. He marches around the ring, pausing in each corner for a few moments to pose for the fans on each side of the arena. As he reaches the side parallel to the commentary desk, he points and nods at Cyclone Comet, a fellow masked man and fighter of Justice... or something. At any rate, he continues to strut around the ring as his music fades away...

 

Suddenly, the booming sound of a gunshot echoes through the Kingdome, quickly fading and giving way to the heavy metal riffs of “No leaf Clover” by Metallica. As the music hammers through the arena, white strobe lights flash from beneath the entrance stage grating as jets of smoke lining the ramp spew out billowing steam columns. Making his entrance, Spike emerges from behind the curtain, receiving quite an ovation from a crowd he has already made amends with. Though because it is the Kingdome, and many of King’s supporters still are against Spike due to his run as Atlas, the reaction is not as positive as it could be.

 

“And his opponent, hailing from Brooklyn, New York, he weighs in at 240 pounds, please welcome... SSSSPPPPPPPIIIIIIKKKKKKEEEEEE!!!”

 

 

“Spike’s return to the top starts here!” yells Riley. “He’s been through many a tournament and many a challenge in his career... this is just another one in the line. He’s a former hardcore Champion; a former World Champion; and if all goes his way tonight, he may become a two time champion at Genesis!”

 

“But first, he’ll have to pass by the Canadian Intelligence Agent!” Comet declares. “And that in itself, seems like enough of a challenge.”

 

 

Spike marches down the ramp, two walls of smoke at his sides. He reaches the ring and stops before heading inside. Looking behind him, Spike seems to be puzzled by something. Looking across the ring to the timekeeper’s table, he shrugs and once again, looks bewildered. Shaking it off, Spike walks up the ring steps and enters the squared circle where his opponent for the night awaits him. As Metallica’s ballad grows fainter, the anticipation for the match starts to build...

 

 

“Let’s get this match started!” Riley says.

 

 

 

 

... (time passes) ...

 

 

 

“Well?” he asks.

 

“Um, Bobby, I think we have a problem.” Comet tells him.

 

“Didn’t I tell you to go before the show?” asks Bobby. “How will you slip out of that spandex suit now?”

 

“No, not that kind of problem.’ CC replies. “It seems as if there’s no referee out here to officiate this match.”

 

“... you’re right.” He notices. “In fact, there never was one to begin with. How strange...”

 

 

At this moment, Spike and CIA notice the same odd problem about the match. Shrugs and glances of puzzlement appear all over as people try to sum up the situation, asking the people around them. All the perplexity is suddenly interrupted by an irritating laughter that would make dogs growl... An image of the back of an office chair appears on the Smarktron, then turns around, revealing the Suicide King in his overly expensive suit.

 

“Didn’t think it’d start this soon, did you Spike? You figured you’d just walk out there, beat CIA and advance in the tourney? Don’t think so, my good man. You two can fight all you want, but it won’t mean a thing. As you can see, there aren’t any officials in the ring with you, probably because I told them all to stay back here for this match. They won’t be needed, since your match will never take place.”

 

 

“What’s he saying?” Comet asks. “Why won’t the match take place?”

 

“I don’t know, dammit. You’re the superhero, you figure it out!” Riley fires back.

 

 

“You see, I thought about it and realized, I don’t really NEED to put in a lot of effort to make your stay here as unenjoyable as it can be. In fact, I hardly have to do anything. Because you see, I own the place. And I’m not talking about the Kingdome, Spike. I mean the Federation. With a controlling share of SWF Stock, I’m entitled to do whatever I want. And if that means sitting on my throne while you suffer, then I may do as I please.

 

That’s why I’ve decided to cancel this match up. CIA, feel free to take the night off, because on Smarkdown, you’ll be advancing in the tournament, facing either Show or Aecas in the second round. Spike, meanwhile, you can take the rest of the month off, and then some. Because instead of heading to the loser’s bracket, as you probably would have anyway, you can simply go home.”

 

 

The crowd derides the King of Hearts, jeering him with the fury of 32,000 North-Dakotians. They waste a good twenty seconds before reducing themselves to a volume low enough for King to speak again.

 

 

“I was hoping it wouldn’t come to this, but you leave me with little choice, Spike. You see, I looked through your contract. And in reading it, I noticed the same two words appearing everywhere: Sean Atlas. Everywhere, ‘Sean Atlas’ was mentioned as getting this and doing that... but nowhere did I see the word “Spike.” I even read it twice. No Spike anywhere. How do you expect me to allow a man who possibly isn’t even under contract with the SWf to become the World Champion? I see this as a bit of a problem, and I’d imagine you do as well.

 

Because of this small but impactful issue, I believe the best thing to do would be to suspend you indefinitely as we work out this contract predicament. In fact, because of the enormous pile of things I have to attend to, I don’t think I’ll get to yours until at least three weeks from now. But by then, you won’t be able to get yourself into the tournament and your chance to win the World Title will, sadly, be lost.

 

So go home, Spike. Sit on your couch, watch us on TV as we go through the ranks and narrow the roster down to one man worthy enough of facing Strangler for the title. And while you’re sitting at home, don’t bother to get he mail for your weekly check, because it won’t be there. Indefinite suspension without pay is your current status, and as far as I’m concerned, you’re out of my hair. Have a good night, Spike, and don’t let the ropes hit you in the ass.”

 

 

A furious Spike stares at the Smarktron as King’s ear-to-ear grin fades back into a scene of the ring. CIA rolls out under the bottom rope and casually walks away, winning without writing one word--, uh, I mean, sweating one drop. The fans are speechless at King’s declaration, not even bothering to give him the satisfaction of getting booed.

 

 

“What a JackHass!”

 

“You said it, Comet... but on one level I do agree with him. If Spike’s name isn’t even on his contract, King can’t allow him to possibly win the championship. What if he runs off with it?” asks Riley.

 

“What? Sean Atlas IS his name! He legally changes it to that! Did King just HAPPEN to overlook that little fact?!” demands Comet.

 

“Minor details, Comet. He’ll have to look into it in a few weeks.” Riley quips.

 

“And what about Beezel then? Does Annie’s name appear on that contract??” CC asks.

 

“Maybe, maybe not. Either way, Annie at least told King that she was Beezel. Spike was very deceitful about it though.” Says Bobby.

 

“Bullshoes!” Comet exclaims. “That evildoer King is being biased against Spike and it isn’t fair! It isn’t reasonable!! It is not just!!!”

 

“Such is life.”

 

 

Not leaving Spike’s face the entire time, the view finally change to a wider angle, showing him leaving the ring and walking up the ramp. CIA is long gone as he slowly, broodingly, in awkward silence walks towards the stage. His spirits driven through the floor, Spike stands before the curtain, his head held low, nodding as if understanding what just happened to hijm, but at the same time, resolving what he shall do about it. Without turning around to face the crowd, he steps through the curtain and out of view, leaving nothing but a black canvas for the camera to film.

 

 

“We’ll be right back in a couple of minutes, folks.” Riley says, breaking up the silence as the scene fades to black.

[Kaertos 0]

As we return from commercial break, the camera is positioned outside of the world-famous King Dome, featuring a marquee that reads “SWF LOCKDOWN – SOLD OUT!!!” The camera slowly fades, into a shot of the inside of the arena! Every single fan goes bananas, as they all try to get on television in some way. The camera focuses on just some of the signs, including:

 

“WE WANT THOTH!”

 

“KING SHOULD COMMIT SUISIDE!” [typos are excellent!]

 

“SURVEY SAYS – DOUBLE JEOPARDY SUCKS!”

 

With that last sign, the camera fades to reveal the commentators for the evening, Bobby Riley and everyone’s favorite superhero, Cyclone Comet!

 

“Greetings, citizens, and welcome back to the one and only SWF Lockdown!” exclaims Comet, nudging Riley in the ribs. Riley rubs his forehead with a “Why me?” look on his face before he looks up at the camera again.

 

“Yeah, thanks to Suicide King. Our benevolent SWF commissioner made this beautiful tournament, and it’s been a work of art all evening!”

 

“You are almost correct about Suicide King, Mr. Riley, for he allowed me this announce position!”

 

“…well, um…anyway. The next match we have is ONE HALF OF THE SWF TAG TEAM CHAMPIONS, Show of Double Jeopardy, taking down a man who doesn’t even DESERVE to be here, Aecas.”

 

“Now, citizen Riley, Aecas came inches away from defeating Nemesis Show on countless occasions in the SJL, I’d say he deserves to be here!”

 

“But who won? WHO WON THOSE MATCHES? Show did. I rest my case.” Riley sits back smugly in his chair.

 

Unfortunately, Comet pulls the chair back, causing Riley to crash onto the ground.

 

“And hey hey hey, it’s time to start the match! Let’s go to Funyon in the ring!”

 

“What the…!? Where’s Stevens when you need him…”

 

The camera pans around to reveal Funyon standing in the middle of the ring, microphone in hand.

 

“Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is a first-round match in the SWF World Championship Contender Tournament, and it is scheduled for ONE FALL! Introducing first…”

 

SHOW!

 

COME ON DOWN~!

 

Rod Roddy’s voice echoes through the arena as Crystal Waters’ “Come on Down” belts over the speakers. The crowd doesn’t delay in showing their strong, STRONG dislike for the Double Jeopardy member, jeering as soon as Roddy’s voice finishes. On the SmarkTron, Vicky Black stands next to the Wheel of Fortune board and turns over four blanks, revealing “S-H-O-W”! Finally, from backstage steps the six-foot-seven Chevy Chase look-alike, wearing a purple dress shirt, black pants, a pearly-white smile, and, of course, the SWF Tag Team Championship belt strapped firmly around his waist.

 

“…from Studio 3B, weighing in at 299 pounds, he is one half of the SWF TAG TEAM CHAMPIONS, DOUBLE JEOPARDY, he is SHOOOOOOOOOOOW!!!!!!!!”

 

The booing intensifies as Show stops at the apron of the ring, and pulls a microphone out of his back pocket as the music cuts off. He begins to speak, ignoring the crowd’s jeers.

 

“Tonight’s question is who is getting their ass kicked… and I do believe the answer is Aecas! SURVEY SAYS…….!”

 

With that, Show swings his arm around to point to the SmarkTron, as Vicky Black now stands in front of a Family Feud board. She turns over the number one answer, revealing “Aecas”! Show continues to smile as he slides into the ring, standing in a corner waiting for his opponent.

 

“Introducing next, his opponent!”

 

The lights go out!

 

*GONG*

 

”Are you scared?”

 

“He’s Here…….”

 

With that, Emperor’s “Curse You All Men” belts over the sound system and the crowd begins to stir, knowing this fresh face all too well. As smoke billows out of the entryway and red lights begin to sporadically flash, a tall, muscular silhouette stands in the entryway. A spotlight focuses…to reveal Aecas! The crowd’s reaction grows as the Black Angel steps onto the ramp, making his unofficial SWF debut with the chance of a lifetime.

 

“From Shrewsbury, England, weighing in at 315 pounds, he is THE BLAAAACK ANGEL, AAAAAAAAECAAAASSSSSSSSSSS!!!!!!!!!!!”

 

Aecas continues his stride to the ring, not taking his eyes off of his opponent as he walks up the steps and into the ring. Standing in the opposite corner of Show, Aecas waits as the lights come on and the music dies out. Referee Nick Soapdish calls both men to the center, and they oblige. With that, he calls for the bell, beginning this match!

 

*DING DING DING*

 

“*Ahem*, now, getting back to the match,” begins the flustered Riley, “Aecas *is* one of the few, if only, men bigger than Show, and I’m interested to see if he’s actually smart enough to use that to his advantage.”

 

“Brassbound boar!” shoots Comet, “I guarantee that Aecas hasn’t forgotten his wars with that man, and will use THAT to his advantage, in addition to his size!”

 

Meanwhile, in the ring, where the action actually counts, Aecas and Show walk up to each other, until they’re nose-to-nose in the center of the ring. If the Tag Champion is intimidated by the fact that Aecas is five inches taller than him, he doesn’t show it as he calmly takes a step back from the Black Angel, and after a second, lunges forward, initiating a collar-elbow tie up with Aecas. After a brief struggle, Aecas uses his power to shove Show, causing him to fall down onto his back! Not trying to let the JLer show him up, the Tag Champion quickly rolls through with the shove and rises to his feet again. He approaches Aecas, who stands emotionless, and raises his arms to initiate another lockup. Aecas obliges, but as he lunges forward, Show ducks behind him and wraps his arms around him tightly, squeezing in a waistlock. Aecas tries to pry the arms from around him, but Show holds on, tenacious as a pit bull. The game show enthusiast summons the strength to lift Aecas in the air and turn him around…but Aecas uses his weight advantage to land on his feet again, before sending his elbow back into Show’s head once, twice, and three times, finally breaking the waistlock!

 

As Show staggers backward, Aecas grabs his right arm (facing the same direction) and drops down, not only wrenching the arm, but once they hit the mat, Aecas pulls back with a Cross Arm Breaker! Show shouts out in pain, but using ring positioning to his advantage, Show is able to stretch his left arm out…and grab the bottom rope, forcing Aecas to break the hold!

 

“Well, Mister Riley,” begins Comet, “it seems that Aecas already has a game plan, working on Show’s arms to set up his Wings of Fire!”

 

“His what now?”

 

“Wings of Fire, Aecas’ trademark submission maneuver that focuses on the arms. Don’t you watch the SJL?”

 

“Of course not; I don’t think they deserve to be watched by me. Just like Aecas doesn’t deserve to be in this tournament!”

 

Slowly, and making sure he’s clear of Aecas, Show pulls himself up using the ropes, keeping his distance. However, he’s not afraid to walk right back up to the Black Angel and lock horns with him again in another collar-elbow tie up. Just like before, Aecas uses his leverage advantage to push against Show, but thinking quickly, Show simply lifts his leg up…and STOMPS down on Aecas’ foot, as jeers flood the arena! The move comes as a surprise to Aecas and he lets go of the hold, which is exactly what Show needed. With that, he wraps his arm around Aecas’ head in a front facelock and grabs his tights, hoisting him into the air, upside down, and over onto the mat with a vertical suplex! Show keeps the front facelock latched in as he turns Aecas onto his stomach, squeezing with all of his might. Show tells referee Nick Soapdish to check Aecas for a submission, but the Black Angel waves his hand, telling the referee not to end the match. The North Dakota crowd begins clapping in unison, trying to fuel Aecas’ fire. The Black Angel’s arms begin shaking as he valiantly tries to break the hold, but Show keeps it in, not budging an inch for Aecas.

 

“See, Comet,” begins Riley, putting his analyzing hat on, “this is exactly what Show needs to do. Aecas is bigger than him, so he needs to use a neck submission to neutralize him. Perfect strategy here by ONE HALF of the Tag Team Champions.”

 

“Oh, Citizen Riley, you damned dissembler! When Aecas tries to focus on a body part you ignore it, but when your precious inamorato does it, you pretend he’s the Suicide King of psychology!”

 

As the Dakotans’ clapping and stomping continues, Aecas’ momentum continues to build. He is able to rise to a knee, and so Show climbs up to his feet to retain a leverage advantage. However, this only helps Aecas, as he then wraps his arms around Show’s midsection and arches back, flipping Show right over with a release Northern Lights Suplex! The Tag Champion scurries in a corner to regain his composure, but Aecas, cracking his neck, stalks him into the corner and doesn’t let up, sending hard fists right into Show’s midsection. The Black Angel continues with the hard body shots, until Show practically collapses out of the corner! Aecas holds onto him, though, and takes his right arm, pulling it behind his back with a hammerlock. While holding onto the hammerlock, Aecas lifts under Show and scoops him up, dropping him down to the mat with a hammerlock-assisted bodyslam as Show’s arm is squished under his 300-pound frame! The Black Angel brings Show back up to a standing position and walks him to the ropes, where he shoves him off to the opposite side. As Show hits the ropes and comes back, he tries to stay a step ahead of Aecas, swinging his right arm (Show never was a sharp tool). Aecas, of course, is one step ahead of HIM, grabbing the arm and falling backward, with a Single Arm DDT that wrenches the arm even further!

 

“Admit it, Citizen Riley,” begins Comet, satisfied, “Aecas has a game plan out there and knows *exactly* what he’s doing at all times!”

 

“Yeah, Aecas is working psychology, alright,” shoots Riley, “yeah, and I fell out of this chair and on my ass before.”

 

“…you-“

 

“QUIET. That’s not the POINT.”

 

Show decides to hold out on more punishment to his arm, as he swiftly rolls out of the reach of Aecas, all the way to the outside of the ring! As a wave of jeers flows through North Dakota, Show decides to stop on the floor and take a breather, angering the Black Angel. Well, seeing as Aecas never shows much emotion, we can only assume so much. Nick Soapdish, however, begins his obligatory ten count.

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

THREE!

 

“Bobby, this isn’t a very wise decision by Show. He could be eliminated from the winner’s bracket by a voluntary count out!”

 

FOUR!

 

“Comet, you never were very bright, were you? He’s not trying to get himself counted out, hell, he’s not even SCARED of Aecas, trust me on that. All he’s doing…”

 

FIVE!

 

“…is a) give his arm some rest, and b) get into Aecas’ head. A little mind games never hurt anyone.”

 

At the five count, Show, first making sure Soapdish holds Aecas back, slides into the ring again, slightly favoring his arm. Aecas shoves Soapdish aside and moves in for the kill, but Show THINKS FAST and brings his knee up, driving it right into the gut of the Black Angel. With Aecas doubled over, Show brings his arm up and sends a clubbing blow down across his neck once…twice…and THREE times, until Aecas is down on his knees. Once again, Show wraps his arm around Aecas’ head with a front facelock, but this time simply falls back, driving Aecas down with a DDT. Show holds on AGAIN, though, but this time wraps his legs around Aecas’ body with a body scissors, executing a guillotine choke! The Tag Champion wrenches back on Aecas’ massive neck, trying to not only cut off circulation to the head, but also continue to wrench on the neck.

 

“Let’s – Go – Aecas!”

 

“Let’s – Go – Aecas!”

 

Noticing his ring positioning, which happens to be very close to the ropes, Show keeps his left arm wrapped tight around Aecas’ head and reaches out with his right arm…grabbing onto the bottom rope as Soapdish is down, checking on Aecas! As jeers wave through the crowd, Aecas seems to show even more signs of struggle as Show simply focuses all of his energy on the guillotine.

 

“My Comet Senses™ tell me that Show is acting a lot differently in this match with Aecas. Instead of his usual ballyhoo and showboating, he’s actually focused on, get this, the match!”

 

“Well gee, Comet, maybe it’s the fact that there’s a World Heavyweight Championship shot for Genesis IV at stake! The thirst for even more championship gold is driving Show to the absolute limits.”

 

The Black Angel decides to use the only method of escape, as he wiggles his arms out and begins sending HARD body shots into the sides of Show, simply POUNDING him with all of his might! Nick Soapdish rises from his perch as Aecas begins to fight…and sees Show’s hand still gripping tightly on the bottom rope! Not standing the blatant cheating, Soapdish walks over and punts Show’s mighty arm off the rope, eliciting a loud cheer from the Kingdome crowd! Show looks at Soapdish in SHOCK, and this simple distraction allows Aecas to rise to a knee as he continues to batter Show’s body! Finally, the game show sidekick decides to take the high road, and he lets go of the Guillotine. He leaps backward to rid himself from Aecas’ hard fists, and then decides now would be a good time to strut, before telling Aecas to come get him.

 

You don’t have to ask twice.

 

Aecas, frustrated, charges at Show and sees a perfect opportunity, as he shoots his leg up for a Yakuza Kick…but the Tag Champion drops down to the mat, scissoring his legs around Aecas’ grounded leg and dropping him down to the ground! With Aecas on his stomach, Show mounts the Black Angel’s back and wraps his arm tightly around Aecas’ neck, executing a rear naked choke. From there, he laces his legs under Aecas’ body, scissoring it, and then turns over, bringing Aecas onto his back and completing the move!

 

“See, Comet, this is perfect wrestling,” begins Riley, smugly, “Show knows that Aecas is bigger than him, so he’s grounding him and wearing him out with submission holds. It’s basic, but I’ll be damned if it isn’t working.”

 

“I still can’t get over the fact that this gluttonous buffoon, for once, isn’t showboating! He really wants to win this tournament!”

 

“So you’re admitting he’s good?”

 

“…that’s quite a stretch, Citizen Riley.”

 

As the breaths of Aecas get slower and slower, Show continues to both squeeze on the Black Angel’s neck and squeeze his legs around his body. The Rear Naked Choke is locked in tight, and if Show has any say in things, it’s lights out for Aecas.

 

Or so he thinks.

 

Aecas begins to wildly thrash about, expending adrenaline to try and shake the Tag Champion off of him. He begins firing elbows back, trying to hit Show in the same area he did with the body shots during the guillotine choke. Shot after shot after shot into Show’s ribs, and seemingly, nothing happens. However, with a backup plan, the SJL superstar slowly shifts his body to one side…and then quickly snaps around to the other! This fast motion catches Show off guard, and Aecas is able to roll onto his stomach, breaking the stronghold of Show’s legs! The crowd roars, but Aecas isn’t out yet. Show mounts Aecas’ back and continues to squeeze onto the rear naked choke, trying to suck the life out of a man stronger and tougher than he is. However, showing his awe-inspiring strength and vitality, Aecas, with Show on his back, rises up…to a knee! As much as Show pushes down, trying to get Aecas back on the ground, he can’t stop him, and in one smooth motion, Aecas pushes up off the mat, into a standing position, and with Show on his back, he falls backward…crushing him with his 315 pounds onto the mat, breaking the hold! Show rolls around in pain, finding a safe haven under the ropes, as Aecas slumps in a corner.

 

“This could be the turning point in the match, Citizen Riley! Aecas has rid himself of three of Show’s neck submission holds, and it looks like he’s ready to destroy Show once and for all!”

 

“But his NECK, Comet! Show has been working on Aecas’ neck for a REASON, so that he can finally seal the deal in a few minutes.”

 

Show slowly pulls himself up, and sees Aecas. But he’s already running, with his shoulder down, charging at full speed to catch show with a GOOOOOORE…..but Show steps out of the way! Aecas continues running into the corner but puts his hands out to stop himself. He turns around, and Show is there, sending forearm shots into the side of Aecas’ head. He grabs the Black Angel’s arm and whips him to the opposite corner, as Aecas hits the other side hard. Show cups his hand to his ear and soaks in the crowd’s negative reaction before charging at Aecas, building up steam…

 

*CRAAAACK~!*

 

…as Aecas charges out of the corner and NAILS Show with a YAKUZA KICK~! Show drops like a sack of unclaimed Price is Right prizes as Aecas drops down, looking to capitalize for the first time in the match with a pin as Soapdish counts!

 

ONE!

 

 

 

TWOOOO!

 

 

 

 

KICKOUT~!

 

Slightly frustrated, Aecas brings Show up to his feet, before putting his head between his legs in a standing headscissors! The crowd cheers as Aecas gives the Thumbs Down sign, signaling for the EXECUTIONER~! The Black Angel reaches down to hoist Show up…and he does! With Show on Aecas’ shoulders, the Tag Champion begins going frantic for his life, holding Aecas’ head close to his crotch [FOR ENTIRELY DIFFERENT PURPOSES], and then battering Aecas’ scalp with punches. Finally, the Black Angel decides to screw it, as he throws Show down with all of his might, dropping him to the canvas with a big Powerbomb! Unknowingly, Show crawls into the corner, dazed and confused. However, Aecas sees his opportunity, and he steps between the ropes, walking over to the turnbuckle.

 

“HE’S GOING FOR IT, BOY WONDER!” shouts Comet, “AECAS IS GOING FOR THE FLYING WINGS OF FIRE!”

 

“…did you just call me Boy Wonder?”

 

Leave it to Bobby Riley to no-sell the turning point of a match.

 

Aecas, now on the top rope, reaches down and pulls Show up. With that, he laces his legs under Show’s arms, executing a full nelson of sorts. From there, he reaches and pulls back on Show’s arms like Santa riding his sleigh, preparing for lift off on Christmas Eve…when Show kills Rudolph. The Tag Champion positions his legs under the ropes, stopping Aecas’ triumphant ride from ever taking place. Aecas, to try and execute the move again, makes a fatal mistake of freeing Show’s arms. And that’s all Show needs. With that, Show sends a fist back, connecting with Aecas’ chest. Stunning the big man, Show ducks his body down and lifts Aecas onto his shoulders, in a fireman’s carry! The boos begin to flood the arena as Show runs forward, and then drops to his side, sending Aecas down RIGHT on his head!

 

“THE $64,000 QUESTION!” fires Riley, “I TOLD YOU, COMET, THE NECK WORK WILL PAY OFF! WHAT A COUNTER!”

 

An “Aecas!” chant fires up in the Kingdome, but Show ignores them as he slumps over the Black Angel, grabbing onto a leg as Soapdish drops to count.

 

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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

 

 

*DING DING DING*

 

“That’s it!” says Riley, rubbing it into Comet, “Show just advanced in the World Title tournament, and Aecas drops down to the LOOOOOOOSER’S Bracket!”

 

“Right about now, Citizen Riley, I’m wishing I could do something much worse than pulling your chair out from under you.”

 

Funyon stands as the boos intensify, and makes the official declaration.

 

“LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, THE WINNER OF THIS CONTEST, IN SIX MINUTES, TWENTY NINE SECONDS, ONE HALF OF DOUBLE JEOPARDY, SHOOOOOOOOOOOOOW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

 

Show rolls out of the ring, making sure to take his Tag Team Championship belt from the timekeeper before he hightails it up the ramp and out of sight.

 

“What a win, Comet, what a win! Show is going on, this is great!”

 

“Well, citizens, never fear, for the main event is here! After this commercial break, Judge William Hearford takes on the somewhat-returning Hardcore Queen herself, the lovely Annie Eclectic! Don’t go away!”

 

Fade to commercial.

[Kaertos 0]

The King Dome in North Dakota rocks out with excitement after witnessing over two hours of non stop wrestling. Fans hoist their signs up in the air, hoping for one last chance for their words to be aired before the show finishes, as the Main Event is shown to be next, between "Judge" William Hearford the Third and Annie Eclectic.

 

"What an incredible night we've had so far!" exclaims Cyclone Comet, reappearing on screen with the rest of the screaming North Dakotans inside the King Dome.

 

"It's the only night we could possibly say without fear that the show is jam packed with wrestling," agrees Bobby, "We've already run through eleven first round matches, separating the entire federation into a winner and loser bracket in this double elimination tournament. The final brackets will be filled here, as Judge William Hearford the Third prepares for the main event match with a pushover for an opponent, Annie Eclectic."

 

"Hey now Bobby," tuts Comet, "Just because you don't like women doesn't mean that they don't belong here. Ignoring my announce partner's misogynism, These two do have quite a history around here, feuding over whether or not Hardcore was a viable fighting style. Due to injuries, the arguement may never have been won."

 

"If garbage wrestling forced her from competition, I dare say we know which side won then," retorts Bobby.

 

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, microphone in hand. He walks down to the ring in a very precise and deliberate step, occasionally stopping to give a small taunt to the crowd.

 

"It looks like Judge will simply decide when it's time to start the match, rather than say the timekeeper," says Cyclone, "You know, these youngin's and their impatience. I remember a time when we respected when matches started and when..."

 

"No one cares, Cyclone," interrupts Bobby, "Let's hear what he has to say shall we?"

 

"Well I never..."

 

"This match, set for one fall, is our main event tonight!" exclaims Funyon, "Introducing first, from Royal Oak, Michigan and representing the Magnificent Seven... he is the JUDGE! WILLIAM. HEARFORD. THE THIRD!!!"

 

Hearford hops up the steps and enters the ring, making a 'cut' motion for his music to stop. Polak in the back room complies, allowing the Judge to speak to the crowd.

 

"Ladies and Gentlement, as I use that term loosely, I would like to make a public announcement here to finish off the first round of the tournament," starts Hearford.

 

"Comet, do me one favor tonight and say nothing during this speech, I don't want to miss a thing this brilliant man has to say," pleads Riley.

 

"Fine, I can do that," says Comet, "I'll simply wait until after the speech in order to point out the Mack truck sized holes in his logic."

 

Waiting for the boos to lessen, Judge continues, "I know each match tonight had a twenty minute or so time limit, but King, you'll have to find some sort of filler for the last fifteen minutes."

 

Silence fills the arena as confusion sets in.

 

"What is he talking about..." starts Comet.

 

"HUSH!" screams Bobby.

 

"Because you see, I'm up against the garbage wrestling, woman stealing, parent snuffing 'Hardcore Queen' tonight. Regardless of her 'pluck' or 'spirit' it simply boils down to this, as a woman she has no right fighting for the top prize in what is truly a man's league," says Hearford, now having to speak louder to make it over the booing of the audience.

 

"WHAT a remark to make! What an ignorant, arrogant..."

 

"Beautiful and brilliant man!" interrupts Riley, "It's true, this IS a man's sport, and she knows it! Why else would she parade around in a mask for four months?"

 

"Because of people like you, Bobby," says Comet, "You make me sick."

 

"So, since the coming squash match is inevitable, I want to give King fair warning to find some sort of entertainment to round out the King Dome's first SWF show tonight. I'd hate for all the wonderful... vendors inside the arena to lose money because we closed the arena early."

 

Empty cups and bottle start coming down on Hearford, who dodges them deftly inside the ring. The onslaught from the fans slaken however as the early synthetic trumpets that begin "I Get Wet" by Andrew W.K. play over the PA system. A large explosion of pink and green confetti come from the entrance ramp, followed by Annie Eclectic herself. Running to the ring, she throws her lit cigar away and throws her trademark Japanese flag trenchcoat to the ground. Sliding into the ring, she become instantly restrained by the official Nick Soapdish. Judge Mental stands at the opposite corner, smiling smugly at the Queen.

 

"Eclectic is pissed off and I don't blame her," says Comet, "She re-entered the league as Beezel for this very reason, fear that people wouldn't believe her to be a true threat. If anything, I hope she wins this one match to prove the injustice of..."

 

"Blah blah blah injustice blah blah pepsi max, you know you're a marked detriment to the announce table," says Riley, "I should just do this myself."

 

"There's nothing wrong with justice! And for that matter, there's nothing wrong with Pepsi Max! Taste of the current generation!"

 

Soapdish calms Annie enough to check her for foreign objects, then cross the ring to Judge to make the same check. As soon as both fighters are ready, the come to center ring and the official calls for the bell...

 

DING DING DING

 

Judge stands before Annie, one hand up in the air, challenging the woman to a test of strength. The Queen looks to the crowd who yells to her not to fall into the trap, but Eclectic's anger gets in the way. Annie brings her hand up to match Hearford's, as the Judge raises his other hand. Annie locks up with that one as well and both fighters press against each other. Judge takes advantage quickly, twisting Annie's wrists backwards.

 

"See? You can't go against nature, men are stronger than women and always will be," says Riley.

 

"Somehow, I don't think the initial seconds of a match shouldn't be the end-all be-all proving grounds, Bobby," says Comet.

 

"When the match is only going to be a few minutes, you need to analize whatever you get!" exclaims Bobby.

 

With no other recourse, Eclectic drives her knee upward, catching Hearford in the ribs and breaking the test of strength. Annie shakes her hands trying to work out the stress inflicted upon them. Judge catches his breath and rushes the Queen but Eclectic side steps the shoulder block. Annie grabs Judge's wrist and attempts an Irish whip but William puts on the brakes. Stuck with just Judge's arm, Annie uses the opening to lash out with a HARD kick to the stomach. Eclectic twists her body and kicks out NAILING the back of Hearford's knee with her foot. Mental drops to one knee while Annie steps in and grabs the back of his head. The Queen thrusts her knee upwards and drives it into Judge's face!

 

"VICIOUS REVENGE! The Queen showing herself not to be a pushover early on!" exclaims Comet.

 

"Anyone can get a little lucky, watch how Judge uses his superior testicular advantages to turn this," says Riley.

 

"Mark, if you can hear me, take small solace in that you will never have to hear 'testicular advantages' ever again," notes Cyclone.

 

Hearford wobbles a bit, stunned. Eclectic looks to the crowd and slaps her leg before running to the ropes. Rebounding, Annie steps on Hearford's knee and leaps into the air, twisting her body out and landing a third knee strike to the back of Judge's head! William drops face first to the mat as the audience applaudes the high-speed effort! Annie rolls Hearford onto his back and hooks a leg as Nick Soapdish drops to make the count...

 

ONE!

 

 

TWO... NO!

 

"Please, that's nowhere near enough to drop a man, get with it woman!" screams Bobby.

 

"The rumors really are true, aren't they?" asks Comet, staring.

 

"What rumors?"

 

"Never mind."

 

 

Judge attempts to sit up but Annie slaps him hard in the chest causing an audible *CRACK* throughout the Kingdome. Hearford goes back down to the mat for a split second, but sits back up. Annie runs to the ropes as Judge sits up, coming back and flipping over his head, snapping his neck forward and whiplashing him back to the mat. Sensing her opponent rising again, Annie now runs to the ropes in front of him. Just as Hearford gets back up to a seated position...

 

*SMACK*

 

...he goes back down from a Drop Kiss! Eclectic hooks a leg on the Judge causing Soapdish to hit the mat for another count.

 

 

ONE!

 

TW... KICKOUT!

 

"Judge is... heh, really doing a good job for the boys back home, eh Riley?" asks Comet.

 

"Fluke shots, wait until Judge gets in a position of power, things will go quick then," says Riley, "Unless the garbage bitch forgets that weapons are illegal, then it might be quicker."

 

 

Eclectic drags Hearford to his feet, but the Judge pushes himself away. Annie comes back in only to be rewarded with a knife edge chop to the chest. Mental follows with a second... a third...

 

*SMACK*

 

"WHOOOOOOOO!"

 

*SMACK*

 

"WHOOOOOOOO!"

 

"The end is near, Comet. Still wish to join the feminism bandwagon? Maybe with that mask you can convince them that you're a woman too!" brays Riley with laughter.

 

"That's not really all that funny, at all," says Comet.

 

The fifth strike knocks the Queen down to the mat, bringing a satisfied smile to the embattered Judge's face. Hearford points and elbow and drops it onto Annie's ribs. Justice swings one of his legs over the Queen's chest, mounting her midsection and pinning her arms to her sides. He wastes no time raining down blows left and right to Annie's face. Eclectic struggles underneath the former tag champion but can't wriggle free, helpless to take shot after shot as Soapdish starts his five count...

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

THREE!

 

FOUR!

 

Judge breaks before Soapdish counts to five. Looking down, Hearford simply remains on top of the Queen. The official begins a pin count, but Judge prevents that with a HARD BITCHSLAP to Annie. The Queen stares hard at her opponent, furious at the lack of disrespect, but the Judge simply smiles and slaps her again! Red with rage, Eclectic takes a deep breath and spits on Hearford's face! Now it's Mental's turn to be furious, getting off of Eclectic and dragging her to her feet by her hair. Wrapping his massive hands around her waist, Judge hefts the woman up and SLAMS her to the mat behind him with a belly-to-back suplex.

 

"WHOOOO! That's how it's done!" screams Riley, "Slap the bitch and put her back in her place, William."

 

"Aren't you in the least worried about losing ratings here, Bobby?" asks Comet.

 

"Why should I? It's not like they do anything besides moan and complain and take your money."

 

"Bobby, have you ever actually been with a woman?"

 

"Nah, it's overrated."

 

Getting up to his knees, Hearford grabs one of Annie's legs as he rises up to his feet. Judge kicks out at the back of Annie's leg, causing the Queen to let out a loud yelp. Judge kicks her thigh a second time, a third, and then points an elbow and drops it onto her knee! Eclectic screams out in pain as Mental rises up to his feet only to drop another elbow! Annie makes a vain attempt to kick her way out but the Judge simply rises to his feet and avoids it. Hearford holds onto Annie's ankle and steps over her leg, bending it around his own. Eclectic moves her free leg around in an attempt to block the Judge's efforts but Hearford grabs ahold of it and braces it against Annie's bent leg, throwing his leg around the bent ankle and finishing off the Figure Four leg lock!

 

"Figure Four to the barefoot one..."

 

"RILEY! If you're going to call this match, show BOTH combatants the same respect, lest swift justice be metered out via Comet's Tail," warns Cyclone.

 

"You wouldn't!" exclaims Bobby.

 

"I would!"

 

"...fine," replies Bobby, "Figure Four to -Eclectic-, and the woman's in a world of hurt now!"

 

Annie screams out and flails around, trying to relieve the pressure that won't go away. Judge pushes himself up onto his hands, bending his opponent's legs even more. The woman's screams echo get drowned out by the chanting of the audience, rooting for the Queen to find her way out of the hold. Eclectic plants her hands on the mat and tries to pull herself backwards towards the ropes, making an inch of progress. Annie drags herself another inch before a punch to the knee from Hearford stops her progress. Soapdish warns the former tag champ while the Queen stretches her body out for the ropes in desperation.

 

"The speed attack was working so well, but can she recover from this to continue?" asks Comet rhetorically.

 

"That's if she even makes it out of the hold! I don't see her reaching those ropes anytime soon," replies Riley.

 

With her face blood red, Annie turns away from the ropes and makes an errant swing at Judge, missing by a mile and flopping right back onto the mat. The crowd continues their chanting: "COME ON AN-NIE *clap clap clapclapclap*" prompting Judge to raise himself again, putting more pressure on the Queen's legs! Annie SCREAMS out as the pressure comes on, but steels herself and plants her palms down again, pulling with all her strength and moving herself even closer to the ropes. Throwing her arms backwards, Annie feels the cold cable ropes in her hands and sighs in relief as she hears Soapdish call for the break. Judge refuses to break the hold however, rising onto his hands to inflict even more pain as the official counts...

 

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

THREE!

 

FOUR!

 

...as finally Hearford breaks the hold. Soapdish pulls Judge up and pushes him aside, giving him a stern warning as Annie struggles to rise up to her feet.

 

"Anything for an advantage," tuts Comet, "Truly a poor representation of Man here. I can only hope that any women watching tonight don't assume all men are like Judge and my erstwhile announce partner."

 

"I think Annie wouldn't mind, they'd all turn gay and she'd have a field day. Man, gay people are so... weird," says Bobby.

 

Comet stares at Bobby as if he has three heads.

 

"What?" asks Bobby.

 

 

Eclectic bides her time, waiting for Soapdish to finish with her opponent. At the first sign of an opening, Annie rushes Judge but her legs don't move as fast as her brain tells them to. Leaping for a flying forearm, Hearford has no problem moving out of the way and allowing the Queen to crash to the mat behind him. Ecletic rolls back up to her feet, looking bewildered at her opponent's sudden quick reaction. Annie rushes the former tag champ again, this time going up for a Drop Kiss... that Judge backs away from with ease. Eclectic hops up to her feet and glares at Hearford, realizing his speed hasn't changed....

 

"...Annie has been considerably slowed by Judge Mental! The figure four did more damage than we thought! Eclectic will have to change gameplans and quick!" exclaims Comet.

 

"Bah, like she has the brainpower after all those chairshots to the head," replies Riley, "What is she going to do, start throwing around suplexes now?"

 

"She's been known to do so..." says Comet.

 

 

Hearford makes a kissing motion towards the Queen whose jaw drops in shock. Angered beyond belief, she rushes at the Judge who grabs Annie's hand mid stride and throws her to the ropes, ducking down for her return. Eclectic rebounds and puts on the brakes in front of Hearford. A quick kick whips Judge to an upright position as the Queen follows in with a knee to the ribs, doubling him back over. Front face lock and a slap to the back is followed by Annie dropping back and SPIKING Judge headfirst to the mat with a snap DDT! Not wasting time, Annie rolls Hearford over and hooks a leg for Soapdish to count..

 

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

THR..... NO!

 

"Annie just snapped right there! I don't think it's in Mental's best interest to provoke the Queen anymore," says Comet, "If she starts in with her technical gameplan..."

 

"TECHNICAL gameplan?" asks Riley, "Did you just put 'Annie Eclectic' and "Technical Gameplan' in the same sentence?"

 

"That I did, as Beezel she showed she's more than capable to taking it to the ground game when necessary," notes Comet.

 

"It'll just cause more mistakes, I have total faith in Hearford's plan of attack," says Riley.

 

Rather than release her frustration to the referee, Annie swings her leg over Mental's chest. Pinning his arms to his sides, Eclectic feels the need to inflict some more personal justice...

 

*SLAP*

 

"Oooooh"

 

*SLAP*

 

"Oooooh"

 

*SLAP*

 

*SLAP*

 

*SLAP*

 

Annie busts out five bitchslaps to the Judge, removing the smug smile the Mag-7 member had during the match. Hearford follows the Queen's lead, hocking and spitting a large wad of saliva into her face. He screams at his opponent, "FUCKING BITCH" as she wipes her face clean of her opponent's bodily fluid. Calmly, Annie balls her hand into a fist and POUNDS THE HELL out him! The crowd explodes into cheers while the official takes a less approving view and begins a count for Annie...

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

... but Annie breaks clean and rises to her feet before going overboard. Hearford dizzily gets up to a seated position but then finds himself being helped up to his feet by the Queen. Grabbing his wrist, Annie throws him to the corner with an Irish Whip. Mental lands chest first against the turnbuckles, feeling the air get knocked out of his lungs. Staggering backwards, Hearford finds himself suddenly locked up in a chickenwing from behind. Then a crossface as Annie's forearm crosses his throat. The Queen locks hands and takes a deep breath, emitting out a loud high pitched scream as she hefts Mental up and drops him headfirst onto the mat!

 

"MILLENIUM SUPLEX FROM ECLECTIC!!!" screams Comet, "I think about one person saw that one coming, and it was the Queen herself! Excellent show of -Strength- from Annie E right there."

 

"Had to stress the strength point eh?" asks Riley, "It's not my fault that Eclectic's a roid beast."

 

"Bobby, you're an embarassment," notes Comet.

 

"Thank you, that's the sweetest thing you've said yet," coos Bobby.

 

"By the halls of Valhalla..."

 

Annie slowly rolls over, still holding Judge with the crossface chickenwing. Once on his back, Eclectic pulls back, locking her elbows onto her knees and completing the Triple C lock to much applause! Judge's cloudy mind is suddenly cleared and filled with pain as Annie rocks back and forth, forcing more and more air from his lungs. Hearford tries to breathe but finds his airways blocked with the pressure of the crossface. His arm shoots out from instinct, blindly groping for a rope to break the hold on. His hand finds nothing but air, the twelve inches he's missing to reach it seeming like twelve miles. The official asks for a submission, but Judge refuses to give up. Annie leans her shoulders into the hold, allowing the Queen to yell in Hearford's ear...

 

"Oh no, not that!" whinges Riley.

 

"TRIPLE C! Eclectic may have just gone over the edge, turning her anger into a weapon to use againt Hearford! William is even farther from the ropes than Annie was during the Figure Four, THIS may be the end of the match!" exclaims Comet.

 

"No respect for the Queen? Well, my boy, you'll just have to learn won't you? You'll... JUST. HAVE. TO LEARN!!!!" screams Eclectic, tightening her hold on the Judge with each word said. She screams into his ear as loud as possible, making sure he hears and feels her frustrations from time past. Hearford flails around helplessly, not able to respond or escape. Soapdish asks again for a submission but Mental won't give way. Annie continues to scream point blank into the Judge's ear, not paying attention to his free hand... currently entangling itself in her hair. With a sharp tug, Hearford both causes immense pain to Annie's scalp and manages to get her off his back. Soapdish issues yet another warning to the former tag champ who finds the reprimand secondary in importance to breathing again.

 

"I'll give her this," says Bobby, "I've never seen someone attack the back, neck, head, AND eardrums before in a submission. Truly... unique, but the Judge uses his brain and gets out of the hold."

 

"Illegally! With pulling of the hair!" says Comet angrily.

 

"Hey, those Joshi matches show hair pulling all the time, if a MAN can't pull on a WOMAN'S hair, but another woman can, how fair is that?" asks Riley.

 

"According to the rules of the match, anyone pulling anyone else's hair is illegal. Nice try, but again your argument has more holes than your bathroom walls."

 

Annie makes it back to her feet first, rubbing her head where there used to be a few more hairs. Hearford has a coughing fit as he leans against the ropes, slowly making his way up to his feet. The Queen stands pat, waiting for her opponent to recover. Mental takes his time, putting a finger in his ear and rubbing, trying to get the ringing from Annie's high decibel yelling to stop. As the Judge finally reaches his feet, Eclectic yells out to her opponent.

 

"COME ON JUDGE," she yells, "COME AT ME! YOU THINK I DON'T BELONG HERE? PROVE IT! COME ON!"

 

Hearford stares at Annie, unsure of whether it's a trap or her emotions running over. He takes a deep breath and rushes his opponent, hoping for the latter. Annie follows suit, both combatants running to each other... Judge jumps up, aiming for Annie's head with a high shoulder block but the Queen counters by leaping up and grabbing Hearford's head with her arms. Firmly planting his chin on her shoulder, Eclectic allows gravity to take over and hits the Splashdown!

 

"SPLASHDOWN FROM ECLECTIC! It could be all! Annie Eclectic could be one step closer to history!" screams Comet.

 

Annie starts to cover Hearford but then suddenly pulls him up off the mat before a count could be made. Dragging him up to her feet with her, Eclectic puts her thumb to her throat and makes a slitting motion. The audience, not sure what the signal means, cheers on anyway as they wait to see the outcome. Annie scoops Mental up and props him on her shoulder to steady her balance. She then slides Hearford down, holding him in an inverted piledriver position...

 

"NO! Someone stop her, NOW!" yells Riley, "Don't let her do this move!"

 

"You seem worried about your friend William all of a sudden, I thought Annie was inferior..." jabs Comet.

 

"But... it's the Hollowpoint Driver!"

 

"Exactly," chuckles Comet.

 

 

...Screaming out, Annie uses all her remaining strength to lift Judge up parallel to the canvas. At the apex of the hold, Annie releases and sits out, DRIVING Judge headfirst into the canvas!!! Annie throws Judge's legs off of her and rolls him onto his back, hooking a leg as the cheering audience quiets down enough to count along with the referee...

 

 

"ONE!"

 

 

"TWO!"

 

 

 

 

 

"THREEEEEEE!!!!!"

 

 

DING DING DING

 

"Your winner, at eighteen minutes and twelve seconds... the QUEEN! ANNNNNNIIIEEEEE EEEEEEECLEEEEEECTIIIIC!!!!" exclaims Funyon.

 

"I Get Wet" by Andrew W.K. plays over the PA system a second time, as Nick Soapdish raises the Queen's arm in victory. Exhausted, Annie simply lets her arm fall back and lies back, unable to get the energy to move.

 

"She did it! What a hell of a main event to finish off tonight as Annie Eclectic moves on to the winner's bracket for the tournament!" says Comet, "She'll be facing the winner of our last match next week, while Judge just got a heaping helping of humility from the hardcore headmistress. He has only one more loss before he is bounced from the tournament."

 

"You're really enjoying this, aren't you?" sulks Riley, "A man just got humiliated by a woman! Don't you feel any sympathy for that?"

 

"Not when he deserved it, Bobby, as Sir William obviously did! Annie, my next Pepsi Max goes to you, continue onwards with your quest for history. And the rest of you continue on your quest to watch every match of our tournament, because we're done for now! For "Misogynist" Bobby Riley, I'm CYCLOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONE COMET~! Keep watching, and Keep drinking Pepsi Max!"

 

 

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