PROMO STORM SHOW NOW!

October 4, 2003

Earlier this week…

The scene is a hospital room. Gauzy white curtains filter the sunlight coming through the single window. On two tables are numerous flower arrangements and get well wishes sent from around the world to the occupant of this room since Sunday night. That man, the Clown Prince of Flash and Panache, lies in quiet repose on a bed, hooked to several machines that confirm his status as “living” by various chips, whirs and hums, all evidence to the contrary. Seated in a chair next to the bed is a larger man. His head is lowered, showing tousled red hair. One hand is holding up his head, the other is gently holding the hand of the man on the bed.

Finally, the sitting man looks up at the clock and sighs, revealing the face that is known the world over as “Grand Slam” Mark Stevens, but the face is tired and drawn. Too much worry and too little sleep has drained this strong man of energy, leaving him with only his fears… and his responsibilities.

From behind Stevens, a door opens, but not far enough to reveal the person standing there. Mark doesn’t move a muscle. A familiar voice, in an unfamiliar context, asks quietly, “How is he?”

Now Grand Slam does turn, and the door opens far enough to reveal the Suicide King. “What the hell do you want?” Grand Slam asks in a tired voice.

“I want to know how Edwin is. He was a friend of mine too.”

“Was is the key word there King. You betrayed us. You flushed our friendship, you flushed the Carnival, down the toilet.”

“You’re still bitter about that? That’s sad Mark. It was a long time ago, and you know it was just business. I rode the Carnival as long as I could then I got rid of them. Simple as that. Look where it got me: the World Title, the Commissioner…”

“Yeah, being an asshole got you a long way. Far enough to help make the match that broke Raynor’s neck last year at Genesis.”

“That was all Stubby. I had nothing to do with that.”

“And far enough to make the match that put Edwin here. You knew what was going to happen, you knew how nuts Silent has been. Are you proud of yourself?”

“Yes, in fact, I am very proud. Do you know what the gate was for Genesis? Have you seen the preliminary buyrate? Hell Mark, even Countdown popped nearly a 5 rating! This is our biggest and best show ever! Damn right I’m proud of it.”

“And how much of your soul did you sell to get that King? How much of our blood did you spill?”

“Whoa… our blood? Mark, you aren’t one of the boys anymore. You haven’t been for weeks now, ever since you bought that stock you’ve been management. They are always going to look at you differently and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

“It’ll be different with me in charge.”

“No, it won’t Mark. I think you are going to find out that being the Commissioner isn’t the dream job you seem to think it is. You are going to have to be ruthless and you are going to have to be cruel. That’s the nature of the job Mark, nobody can get everything they want.”

“Think what you want King, things are going to be different from here on out. That is a damn promise.”

“Nice… well, I’m sure things will be different, but will they be better?”

Finally, the Heavy Hitter starts to stand, glaring at King. In that moment he is aware of just how much older King looks that he should, how worn about the edges he seems to be. King holds out a thick envelope.

“Give this to Edwin when he wakes up, will you? He’s certainly earned it.”

On the verge of saying something else, Stevens simply say, “Sure.”

“Good. Well, see you around Slammer. Good Luck.” And with a tip of his hat and a flash of long coat, the Suicide King disappears around the corner.

Grand Slam turns back to Edwin in time to see the Clown Prince open his eyes a little and let out a small groan. The Heavy Hitter reaches for the nurse call button and goes to press it but Edwin finally says his first word, “Blarg.” This is followed closely by his second, “Wait.”

Mark doesn’t press the call button, instead turning around and sitting in his seat. Edwin takes a deep breath, and in a weak voice says, “He’s right, you know. I’ve got a feeling you won’t enjoy this job.”

“That’s beside the point. The Fed needs me, and I’ll do the best job I can. Forget that though… how are you?”

“Tired. I hurt… can’t really feel my legs. Other than that, I’m ready to go to Disney World.” Edwin starts to laugh, but ends up coughing a little and wincing in pain. “Damn… must have cracked a rib too. Bloody hell…”

“Well, don’t worry Edwin. Silent’s gone. I’m making the announcement on the show Friday. I’ve had it with him, and after what he did to you? No way he’s staying around.”

“Well mate, I appreciate the thought, but I have a favor to ask you on that count.”

“About Silent?”

“Yes. Mark, I’ve never asked you for anything. So you have to do this for me. You owe me that much.”

“Edwin… what’s going on?”

“Don’t fire Silent.”

“What?!? That has got to be the drugs talking! There is no freakin’ way I’m letting him stay around after this! No way!”

“Please Mark… I can give you two good reasons.”

“Fine… these had better be good Edwin.”

“Ok… first off… I knew what was going to happen if I lost that match. Everyone did. It was a chance I took, and he shouldn’t be punished for that. Dammit Mark, we all know what can happen to us in that ring. I accept the consequences of my actions.”

“I don’t know… I still think he stepped over the line big time. What’s your other reason?”

“It has to end Mark. He wanted revenge on me for something that happened years ago. I broke his neck over a woman. So he sent Raynor after me. I broke his neck. The first chance Silent got, he came after me himself and broke my neck, or very nearly anyways. It has to end. If you punish him, he’ll still carry that anger around and hurt someone else. Maybe you… maybe me. Crikes Mark, maybe Lynn or Chris. Keep him here. Give him a place to focus all of that anger and hate. This is a bloody awful merry-go-round, and we have to get off sometime. Make it now. Besides, this way if someone really kicks his ass, I get to see it on National Television…”

Mark chuckles a little, as does Edwin. Subtly, Grand Slam wipes a tear from the corner of his eye. “I always knew you were a fruitcake Edwin, but I never thought you were this nuts.”

“Mark…”

”Don’t worry. I won’t fire him. I promise you that.”

“Thank you Mark. You are a good friend, and you’ll be a great commissioner.”

“Don’t mention it. Can I call the nurse now?”

“Yes, please. I need something to eat, something to watch and a sponge bath. Not necessarily in that order.”

“Right. We’re going to miss you Edwin. It was nice having you around again. Reminded me of old times.”

“Oh don’t worry Slammer. I’ll come strolling back someday… this is too good a party to miss for too long.”

As Grand Slam finally presses the call button, the scene fades on two old friends who finally have a little time to catch up…

October 4, 2003

We fade in on Commissioner Mark Stevens, sitting in his office and filling out paperwork when the door busts open. Mark looks up quickly, taking a look at the figure in his office, and the camera pans around so we can see exactly who it is -- Quiz, both tag belts cradled on his left shoulder and a harried expression on his face. He rushes into the room, sitting down and beginning to hyperventilate in front of Mark.

"Show's injured... can't compete... what can I do... don't vacate the belts... I want to be champ..."

"Whoa, partner," Mark says, reassuringly. "What's the problem, Quiz?"

"Buy a vowel, Mark?"

"...uh, sure."

"Okay. I have a problem. See, at Genesis, Show took that huge neckbreaker from twenty-five feet in the air, and with his neck already damaged from his match with Kibagami... well, he's hurting, and in a big way. He's going to be out of active competition for a while."

"Uh huh."

"So, in theory, Quiz and Show should vacate the Tag belts... but I don't want that to happen."

"Quiz, if you don't have a partner then you can't be a tag team with anyone. I think I'm going to have to vacate the belts...."

"Wait!"

"Okay, I'm waiting."

"What if I can find a partner?"

"Well, Quiz, if you could find a partner then I guess he could replace Show in the tag team. But you're going to have to find him before the end of the show."

"Thank you, Commissioner Slam. I won't let you down."

Quiz exits as Mark looks at the closing door, rubbing his head.

"The people King signs to contracts..."

October 4, 2003

Rutherford, New Jersey.

The elbow-to-elbow crowd inside the Continental Airlines Arena explode into cheers as SWF Storm returns from commercial break. “Welcome back, Citizens!” shouts an overly cheerful Cyclone Comet. “We are just days removed from the BIGGEST Pay per View in the entire history of the SWF, and the repercussions are sure to be massive!”

“Yeah,” Riley agrees, “I for one want to know what the HELL is up with Tommy?!”

But, before Bobbi even has the chance to ponder the question, the speakers let out a small hiss just before an all too familiar - Loathed, song cranks itself out;

“I’M TOO SEXY FOR MY SHIRT!”

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

Almost immediately, the crowds unleash a barrage of boo’s! It doesn’t stop the song though or the tirade. The house lights dim - replaced by an onslaught of fluttering, blinking, annoying strobe lights. The curtains part like the great Red Sea, and Johnny Dangerous comes storming out to the stage! He stops at the top of the ramp, taking a moment to survey the crowds that surround him on each side.

They unleash their hate down on him; booing, taunting, trash tossing and what not. For once he just takes it. He couldn’t possibly blame them for they way they felt towards him and he knew why. He takes one last long drag of his cigarette, then drops it to the floor, squashing the fire with the tip of his shoe as he exhales a long breath of smoke then proceeds to the ring.

“Wow, look at them bruises!” says Bobby, “It’s a good thing he’s not booked for a match tonight!”

“Nobody is, Nimrod!” replies Comet. “Besides, after the WAR that Johnny Dangerous and the Wildchild fought through on Genesis - which I may add that Wildchild came out victorious with the Hard Core Gamers title still firmly attached to his hip.”

“That was a despicable outcome for a match if I ever done saw one!” spits Bobby. “Wildchild managed to escape the long arm of the law! How does he plan on paying for his crimes?”

“Did you not see what happened outside, AFTER Genesis?” questions Comet

“Uhh... well...”

Johnny slides into the ring, heads over towards the far corner, and reaches for a Microphone. One is gladly handed to him, and he steps back to the center of the ring. Patiently he waits for the fans to die down before he draws the microphone to his lips, takes a deep breath then speaks.

“Fans of the Smartmarks Wrestling Federation,” he begins, “tonight I am not here to give you a verbal bashing, put down Wildchild, or anything of that matter. Tonight, I’m just here to get something off my chest.”

“Aw, come on!” says Bobby, “trash talking is good!”

“Over the past several months you have seen me chase Wildchild from arena to arena, making his life a miserable hell in an attempt to bring him to justice. I told all of you that he was guilty of some very horrible crimes, and had done some down right dirty deeds to all of you and the country which I serve. People in his personal life questioned his involvement with these crimes, even some of you questioned it, but I am here to tell you one thing about the Wildchild... ”

“He’s innocent.” Instantly a loud cheer explodes from the crowds starting with the nose bleeds and rushing all the way down to the floor. A moment goes by, and then another before they calm themselves and Johnny continues.

“At Genesis he proved that he is one of the toughest sons of bitches that I have ever met, both physically as well as mentally. You took me to hell and back again Wildchild! The victory was well earned. After everything I said about you, and did to you, you deserved it.”

“What a show of good sportsmanship by Johnny Dangerous!” says Comet. “It takes a real man to admit defeat and take it with stride! I think we might be seeing a better side of Johnny here tonight than I have ever seen since I returned to the SWF!”

“Will you stop, Comet!” mutters Bobby. “All he’s doing is making Wildchild’s head forty times bigger than it already is! I hate to admit it but Johnny is just scared!”

“Now,” says Johnny, “after Genesis ended something happened. Something that proved Wildchild’s innocence! Somebody by the name of Harold Hannah made a startling revelation to me after a good warming over. He tells me that I have been here in the SWF simply to settle his horny obsessions with a cow locked up in prison! In exchange for someone getting her paroled, he would make Wildchild the target of my mission! My mission, which so happens to be nothing more than a flexible way for our Government to keep some spending going!”

Johnny begins to pace back and forth. The more he talks the more riled up he gets. “So basically in exchange for destroying Wild and Dangerous with these accusations, Mr. Hannah was to have his Girlfriend paroled by the only man in this federation with that KIND of CONNECTIONS... Judge Mental! William Hearford the third!”

“OH MY GAWD!” shouts Bobby, the state of surprise totally taking him by storm! “THE JUDGE? The Judge set up Johnny Dangerous and Wildchild?”

“That fiend!” counters Comet. “I should have known their was something more diabolical and sinister behind this! How could he do that to a beautiful partnership between Wildchild and Johnny Dangerous?!”

“ ... ”

“They did have a good partnership, right? I was doing the finishing touches of “Cyclone Comet Vs. The Creature From A Toxic Rice Field In Tokyo” at that time. I managed to miss it!”

“Well they beat Frost and Longdoggah Pete, came close to beating Justice and Rule at Battleground, and beat Nelsen of The Jungle thankfully. That’s about it.”

Johnny is steaming mad! His face has turned almost beet red with anger. “So Judge, you sorry son of a BITCH! Way back in June your ass was so afraid that me and Wildchild would finally defeat you and Ejiro for the Tag Team Championship that you set a plan in motion for the two of us to destroy each other?! The same titles that you lost anyway, yet you let this continue? All of this? Me and Wildchild almost killing each other over the Tag Team Championship?”

“ ... ”

“WHAT THE F*CK!?”

“Oh my, potty mouth alert!” says Comet. “I must apologize to our viewers at home...”

“Apologize for what? All the viewers at home regularly use such language anyway! You know like: “Who the f*ck took the brakes off the house, it rolled into the Wilson’s!” bunch of hillbilly trash.”

“That’s about enough from you, Bobby!” snaps Comet

Suddenly a familiar tune catches Johnny’s attention, and he spins around on his heel towards the stage.

"NOW TESTIFY!"

BOOM!

Three sets of red pyrotechnics shoot up all across the stage as Rage Against The Machines “Testify!” THUNDERS across the arena! The fans begin to boo almost without having to even think about it, and they boo even louder when Judge Mental himself saunters out from behind the curtains. He stops at the top of the entrance - microphone in hand, staring hard into the eyes of the Barracuda!

“Hearford made it out of Genesis alive?” says Comet. “I was for sure his pace maker would give out after the show him and Tom Flesher put on!”

“Oh get over yourself, Comet!” snaps Bobby. “Judge came just inches from claiming the World Title from Tom Flesher! He may be old, but he isn’t no Hogan!”

Flash bulbs explode from every where as Judge stands at the top of the ramp, motionless, and speechless, while Johnny quietly stares back, grinding his teeth together. Finally the crowds heckling and taunting die down, and the Judge strokes his hand through his beard before raising the microphone to speak.

“Johnny Dangerous...” he begins with a slight chuckle. “Why are you still here even? Can you not take a hint?”

“What’s he talking about?”

“Shhh! Let the man speak!”

“You know it was about four months ago now, when I was approached by someone from your organization Johnny. Let me reiterate that, YOUR organization! At the time it was a offer I couldn’t refuse. Any man in my shoes at the time would have done the same. Harold came to me with the deal: Get my Girlfriend paroled, and I’ll get Wild and Dangerous off your case, and Johnny Dangerous out of your hair forever.”

A few boos begin to come down from the rafters, but Hearford’s enjoying this a bit too much to notice them.

“But please, lets not put all the blame on me. Johnny, allow me to ask you a question,” he says with a smirk, pointing his finger towards Dangerous, “Remember, I’m not the one who blindly followed orders here. Did you ever once even give Wildchild the benefit of the doubt? I know if my best friend were being accused of something like that I’d make at least a bit of effort to check up on the information given to me.”

“It wasn’t Johnny’s job as a spy do check up on the information!” says Comet fiercely, “It’s not his to reason why, it’s not his to make reply, it’s only his to-“

“Get incredibly tooled!” giggles Riley, but he’s instantly shut up by a glare from Comet.

“Did you even listen to his side of the story? Pfft,” scoffs Hearford, beginning to pace like his days as a lawyer, “All you did was rush out like a good master’s lapdog and turn in your best friend without even hearing his side of the story. What a great friend you are. Christ, had it been Ejiro in Wildchild’s place for me I know I wouldn’t have been as eager to arrest my best friend on what I consider bad information. I personally think you harbor something against Wildchild. Maybe that jealousy act wasn’t really an act. Maybe that’s the real Johnny Dangerous showing through.”

Hearford grins, but before he can go on Johnny raises his mic up to the mouth. “In my line of business I meet a lot of people who can give you candy with one hand and nerve gas with the other. I’ve seen soccer moms who could destroy the world, I’ve seen evil dictators who play catch with their sons. I’m not a guy who gets to decide who is good and bad because sometimes even I can’t tell; I just have to complete my mission. And right now my mission is kicking your ass! Judge, right here, right now, I challenge you t-“

The crowd pops big for the statement, but Hearford quickly cuts it off. “Johnny, you don’t have a leg to stand on right now. You don’t have a mission in the SWF anymore because you are a real spy, not a wrestler. It’s been a nice trip, but thankfully with Wildchild being exonerated it’ll be your last.”

That last sentence rings for a moment inside Johnny’s head, and he just glares at Hearford for a moment. He’s right. He’s completely right. He drops the mic and steps out through the ring ropes and begins walking up the ramp.

“It’s time for JUSTICE to be served!” says Comet happily as Johnny gets right up to Hearford…

… He stares right into the smiling man’s eyes…

… And walks right past. The crowd gives some confused murmuring as Johnny begins to walk off stage.

“That’s a good boy,” chuckles Hearford, “All about the mission. I’m sure you’ll feel great when you up at the top, all alone.”

The Barracuda’s head begins to hang at that last remark as he walks off the stage, leaving Hearford to chuckle alone for a few seconds onstage, getting some boos without the presence of Dangerous. He says into the microphone “The Defense rests…” as he walks offstage in the other direction with a grin the size of Cleveland on his face.

“Well,” Comet says solemnly, “It looks as though we’ve just seen the last of a great man. While he may have made some mistakes, hopefully he can continue to serve JUSTICE~! as a Super Spy.”

“Yeah, as long as he doesn’t start arresting his friends. I’m glad I never talked with him.”

“He wouldn’t talk to a malicious moron such as you anyways, Bobbie.”

And with that we…

*FADE TO COMMERCIAL*

October 4, 2003

The Continental Airlines Arena in New Jersey is the target of the aftershocks that Madison Square Garden has set off at Genesis. It's 5 days later, and still, people are buzzing about the latest events that have occurred inside the ring. The special promo edition of Storm continues as the cameras comes back from commercials and pans across the stage, revealing the full house. Thousands of fans are on their feet, holding up their best artwork in hopes of getting some airtime. Among the catchiest: a life sized cutout of Tom Flesher and a shady photograph of the M7 logo. And as the scene continues to sway, Riley's voice thunders through the speakers!

"Welcome back to a special edition of Storm, where we have no card and we don't know who's coming out next!" Riley yells in his most enthusiastic voice.

"Making this show all the better, Citizen Riley. For justice knows not what is coming up next, and life is always full of excitement!" Comet chips in. The fans don't even know who's coming out next, calming down to a eerie silence until finally, the opening rifts of "Downfall" begins to play! Like electricity in water, the music instantly sparks a sudden wave of cheers. The fans pop loudly for the Wonder Kid, although there are a few boos noticeable throughout the crowd. However, the boos are drowned out by the rabid fans chanting "Erek! Erek!" as Taylor emerges from the back, totally clad in black. He skips his usual antics, standing at the top of the ring and eyeing the crowds as if they were his enemy.

"(Funyon) Ladies and gentlemen, making his way to the ring, he weighs in at 180 pounds.... Erek!! TAAAYYYYYLLLOOOORRRR!!!!"

The name ignites another chorus of cheers as Erek waits for it to die down. He slowly makes his way down the ramp.

"Well Erek looks like he's about to kill somebody."

"And it would be an obvious guess to say it's Strangler that he's after, Robert."

"Right on the money, Comet."

Erek slides into the ring and snatches the microphone away from Funyon's hands. He pauses, and the crowds instantly erupt into cheers as the music dies down. The Wonder Kid paces around the ring, his hands touching his lips while he thinks of where to start. Erek brings the mic up to his lips and begins to speak.

"At Genesis, the High Flying Prince made his return to the SWF. He came back for redemption and that's what he'll get. You know, I was actually thinking last night about the people who used to cheer for me, you people, people around the world. I was reminiscing about my time away from the squared circle and how nobody even recognized me anymore. I go to the mall, and all I can see is people ignoring me like I was some washed up has been, when only months ago, I would be stalked by countless women. And then, it was all taken away by one man, a man who you people choose to cheer!"

The audience doesn't know what to make of it, keeping silent as Erek continues.

"This was one man who you all hated back in the day, this was one man who you all teased, who you made fun of, who you made the odd man out pretend to be in your little games! And now.... you CHEER him? What the fuck?! Well, you know what, I don't really give a damn. Let's bring the sucker out now. Strangler, get out here!"

"Erek Taylor is calling the Boston Strangler out!"

"That was expected."

"What will happen when these two arch-rivals get into the same ring again?! They've had their history, and what a storied history it is."

A portion of the audience immediately cheer, but the majority keeps quiet, not sure as to what to do in a situation where two heroes are going at each other. They wait, and finally, "Godzilla" kicks up over the speaker systems. There is no fancy pyros, no dimming of the lights, just a plain entrance for a changed man who walks out from the back, obviously in lots of distress. His face shows no anger, rather of remorse as he enters the ring and towers over Erek Taylor. Erek doesn't falter because of the height advantage, showing once again the cocky attitude that has gotten him so far. Erek stares right at Strangler.

"Welcome to the ring, bitch."

"Erek, list-"

"No you listen. I want my cut, I want my due, I want your blood! Do you know how many times I've imagined getting back into the ring with you as my opponent so I can cut your forehead open and smear the blood all over the canvas? Do you? Huh? You claim to be a changed man, and I've got one word to say to that....

Bullshit! You are still the whining gorilla who thinks everyone's out to rip you away from someone you admire. You have no excuse this time. There's no Chris Wilson here for you to use as an excuse. I want your blood... I want a match, me and you, one on one! This is what I've been waiting and training for this past year."

"Erek, I won't fight you."

"You won't fight me? Who the fuck do you think you are? You're not some big shot who can choose his opponents. I owned you back in the day. I made you my personal punching bag night in and night out. You lost more matches to me than I can count. You have nearly a foot on me, and about 80 pounds on me, but I still managed to kick your ass in a damn street fight, you pathetic little pussy! But did that matter? No, it didn't. I lost one match, and I was gone. You tried to get me locked up because you thought I was trying to replace you as 2nd head of the M7. Accept the fucking challenge, set the damn date, name your stipulation! Because whatever it is, I'm ready."

"Get this through your headstrong head, Erek. I'm not going to fight you! I'm changed! I'm sorry for doing the things I did, but I was a different person then and I'm a different person now!! I'm not going to fight you!!!"

The crowds back up Strangler on his words, cheering for their newfound hero, obviously ticking off Erek Taylor, who snaps at the crowds.

"You people cheer a sissy?! Why the hell are you cheering for this pathetic loser? Either you’re idiots, or you just identify with a man that embodies the same qualities that you have."

"Whoa, Comet, did I hear that right?"

"You sure did, Riley. It seems Erek has had a change of attitude."

Erek turns his attention away from Strangler and directs his anger towards the crowds.

"All you people are sheep. You cheer for the fucking sissies who don't stand up for themselves, because let's face it, you people don't stand up for yourself. Isn't that why you people are citizens of New Jersey?! Huh? The forgotten state?!

The audience instantly turn on Erek, releasing a highly unorthodox series of boos directed at the Wonder Kid, who ignores it and gets right back on the beat.

"Yeah, boo your hearts out. See if I give a damn. If you’re gonna cheer for cowards who get lucky, run away, and become shitty champions instead of the true heroes, the men who overcome the odds, come back, and face their problems head-on, then I don’t wanna hear a damn word out of your mouths. But back to you Strangler. Are you going to accept my challenge, or are you just going to turn around and walk away? What's it gonna be, bitch? Stand up for yourself or run away, just like all these idiots here would do in your place?"

"Erek, you're not listening, I'm not going to fight you. And if I have the choice of fighting or walking away, then I guess that's what I'll do-"

Strangler drops his mic and exits the ring. He heads up the ramp, turning his back on the Wonder Kid as the fans applaud in respect.

"Fine, if you won't accept, then I guess there's only one thing to do-"

Erek bolts out of the ring and races up the ramp, showing off his agility as he meets up with Strangler at the halfway point of the ramp and floors the mammoth with a mic shot to the back of the head!! A sound of static echoes across the arena as Erek starts stomping away on the Boston Strangler.

"You have got to be kidding me!! Strangler did the right thing by walking away and now Erek Taylor is just beating away on him!! Who is this new Erek Taylor? This was not the Erek Taylor we all once knew and loved!!"

"I have no idea, Robert, but this new Erek Taylor must be punished!"

As the boos start to thunder down from the nosebleed section to the first rows, the Wonder Kid continues his assault, ignoring the consequences that his attack will cause. Strangler gets up, and takes the beating, not once trying to retaliate. His will is strong and it is that which prevents him from submitting to his inner demons, which begs him to revert back to his old instincts. The arena bellows out, its very foundation rumbling from the high volume of the boos being poured down from the audience as the Wonder Kid punishes Strangler with repetitive rights. Road agents and referees rush out from the back, tackling Erek Taylor to the ground as Strangler backs away, not once thinking of retaliation. The Superstation turns and walks away as the fans, confused by the incident, chant “WE WANT STRANGLER! *clap clap clapclapclap*! KICK HIS ASS! *clap clap clapclapclap*!”

"Erek Taylor is a much, MUCH different man than he was before he came back here, Comet! I really like this new Erek!”

"It's taking so many referees just to hold him down. He's still trying to get his hands on the Boston Strangler! Justice will be served to citizen Taylor when the time comes!"

"If Strangler’s not too big a wuss to fight him at that time, that is…”

The Smarkstron lights up and replays the incident, with every clip of Erek Taylor getting a rousing wave of boos. There are no laughs anymore for the high flying sensation. He has changed, for the most part. He has transformed into something that lives on the suffering of others, into something that doesn't know his own limits. There are still many questions though, but the question still on everyone's mind:

Who is Erek Taylor, really?

October 4, 2003

Brian Applewhite isn't having a good week. His trustee, Michael Craven, failed him at Genesis. Dace Night walked away with the win, leaving "Grand Slam" Mark Stevens with the office of the commissioner. The Suicide King's pet project, the Magnificent Seven, is no more, and at Genesis, the wrong man won the World Title. This Magnificent Seven breakup wouldn't have been so hard, the King thinks, if only Hearford had come through.

But the Judge failed. Tom Flesher as World Champion wouldn't have been bad at all, despite the fact that he was a difficult person to work with, as long as he was useful... but now that he seems to be on his pure-wrestling kick, god knows how long that will last, he's not willing to do what it takes to make sure that the title stays in the right camp.

And so, it seems Brian Applewhite is pissed.

"Brian!"

The voice echoes through the halls in the back of ARENA. The Suicide King, wanting nothing more than to get his cup of coffee at the catering table and leave, turns and glares.

Behind him is the SWF World Champion.

"Damn it, Tom," sighs the former commissioner, "you know me well enough to know I don't want to see you tonight."

"Brian, I-"

"You let me down, Tom." Suicide King turns away from him, looking down at the catering table as Flesher stands in his street clothes, the SWF Title belt slung over his shoulder. "After all I've invested in you, Tom... after every time I went out of my way to make sure you got the breaks, after I gave you everything a wrestler could ask for from the commissioner -"

"That's just it, Brian," says Flesher with a mix of indignation and pride in his voice. "Do you know how hard it is to go through a career in the SWF the best promotion in the business today, knowing that every success you've had is because someone else paved the way for you? When I was in the JL, it was Shawn Brody, and then Thoth. After I broke out from under him, I thought I was finally going to get the chance to prove myself." He pauses, choosing his words carefully. "Brian, you were a great deputy commissioner, and you held the SWF up on your shoulders for nearly a year... but it's time for a changing of the guard. You put your trust in someone else, and he failed. I can't put my trust in you anymore, and now I see what a mistake it was to lean on you anyway. It's time for me to put my trust in myself."

The Suicide King idly fixes the collar of his polo shirt, trying to look as if he doesn't mind Flesher's flat-out rejection of the breaks he's been given. "After everything I've taught you," he says, "you think you can just go off on your own and succeed? Tom, I taught you everything you know."

"That's bullshit and you know it. You discovered me, tried to mold me in your own image... but I had the talent before I met you." Tom is clearly getting agitated and seems unsure how to handle his mentor. "Brian, everything I've done has been because I had the talent to begin with. All you did was show me the shortcut."

"You're delusional, Flesher." The Suicide King stares pointedly at the World Champion. "You CAN'T lean on me anymore. You don't have the option. If you want to persist in pretending it's your choice, fine. But the world's a tougher place than it looks. I coddled you, taught you what you know and fast-tracked you to the top. You never took your lumps or paid your dues. Now you're on your own... and Tom, when your career falls out from underneath you, don't whine to me. There's always going to be someone better than you, and god willing, I'm going to train him."

With that, Brian Applewhite picks up his cup of coffee and walks coldly away from the SWF World Champion. Tom Flesher watches with a shrug as his mentor walks away from him, and we fade.

October 4, 2003

Lockdown comes back form commercial break, but as it does, The SmarkTron suddenly fires up, showing a shot of a familiar face, sitting in a chair, facing out at the sold-out crowd.

“We’re back live on Lockdown,” Riley says, “and it looks like the King of Nightmares is gonna speak! Can’t wait to hear what he’s got to say about the past few days...”

Craven folds his hands together, twiddling his thumbs as he leans forward and begins to speak.

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. I have a few thing I’d like to cover tonight, so please spare me the time to speak.”

The fans don’t seem to feel the same way, expressing their feelings though mass communication:

“GO A-WAY~!”

Craven, though, ignores their demand, focused on what he has to say tonight.

“First off, let me turn my attention to Genesis, namely the match i was involved in. Because of cheap, underhanded tactics, Dace Night defeated me and Mark Stevens has become commissioner. Now while I may have lost, the war still continues, and mark my words: King will be back in office. That you can bet on.”

The crowd mildly boos, but the King of Nightmares presses on with his agenda.

“Now onto other concerns, namely those I have with the SWF World Champion, Tom Flesher.”

The crowd pops loudly at the mere mention of Taamo’s name, a cheering that continues for several seconds, briefly interrupting Craven before he gets the chance to speak again.

“Congratulations on your win, Flesher. You managed to beat the man who barely beat me to ge a shot at you, and I have only one thing to say to that...”

“... You’re a failure, Thomas! A failure and a traitor to the cause! In your brightest hour, you turned your back on us...

...for THEM.”

The crowd boos loudly at The King of Nightmares as he whips himself into a verbal tirade against The Superior One, anger and jealousy flowing out from his throat and into his words.

“You sicken me, Flesher. Where’s the real Superior One, the cocky sonofabitch who I fought tooth and nail with during our last days in the JL? The one who set records left and right? The one who was untouchable?”

He pauses for only a second to catch his breath, then continues.

“He’s gone, isn’t he, replaced by some fan-friendly shell of a sell-out?”

The crowd boos loudly, chanting “CRA-VEN SUCKS!”, Craven smiling in return as he ignores their petty chant.

“That’s what I thought.”

The King of Nightmares pauses for a second as crowd gives it to him, the chant growing louder until Craven begins to speak over them, killing it.

“But maybe you don’t realize the ramifications of your decision. You’ve made a fatal mistake, Tom. You’ve turned your back on dangerous men, some of whom you’ve created. You’ve made a fatal mistake, and the vipers you once tamed are ready and willing to strike you, inject you with the poison of your own creation. And then you’ve got me,” Craven states, pointing to his chest, “a man who would like nothing more than to rape you of what you belove the most; your livelihood and your title.”

Again, more boos from the crowd, angered at the prospect of their new-found hero being taken out by the cowardly, cocky Craven. The King of Nightmares maintains a calm, collected composure as he continues to speak.

“Now I’d take you out myself...” Reaching into his pocket, Craven pulls out a small piece of folded paper and unfolds it, showing it to the camera. “But this doctor’s note clearly and unfortunately prevents me from doing that. It keeps me from getting in the ring right now because they say I’m not yet fit to wrestle, that I need time to ‘recover’.”

Craven sits there, staring into the camera with poise, but after a few seconds, he cannot help but smirk.

“... But that doesn’t mean I can’t take you out outside the ring.”

The crowd boos the loudest it has been the whole night, furious that Craven would even insinuate attacking Flesher when he doesn’t expect it. The King of Nightmares has a full smile across his face as he thinks of the fun destruction he may cause in the future.

“And don’t think I’m coming with the same old moves. I’m saving something, a nice surprise for you... a little something special. What it is, you’ll find out in time, as will the rest of the world, and it will stretch the imagination, among other things.”

“What does he mean-” Comet begins, but he is quickly silenced.

“SHHH!” Riley quiets Comet long enough for Craven to get in some final words.

“Remember these parting words, Inferior One: You may be living out your dream as World Champion, but in the world of dreams...”

“...The King of Nightmares controls all.”

October 4, 2003

Johnny Dangerous is hunched over a gym bag in the locker room, holding an ice pack to his face with one hand as he absentmindedly tosses his belongings into the bag with the other. Thinking back on the evening’s events, Johnny leans resignedly against the wall with his eyes closed.

“Damn,” he mutters to himself. “I still can’t believe I didn’t see this coming!”

The Barracuda opens his eyes and briefly around the locker room, when it suddenly occurs to him that he is alone, the other wrestlers having elected to change elsewhere, rather than be around him. “How fitting,” he thinks. “I wonder if this is how Wildchild felt.”

At that thought, he lowers his head in shame and rubs his hand through his hair. “Damn. How am I going to make this up to him?”

Grabbing his bag, Johnny exits the locker room and proceeds down the hall. He is about to turn a corner, when he nearly walks into his former tag team partner, the Wildchild.

Startled, the Barracuda attempts to stammer out an apology. “Dominic! I-I-I— Okay, look; I’m sorry for everything that’s happened between us,” he says. “I mean, I was just doing my job, and…”

“Your JOB,” interjects an irritated Wildchild. “Your JOB? It was your ‘job’ t’ turn your back on your friend an’ stab him in de back?”

Johnny shakes his head. “It wasn’t like that, ‘Nic.”

“It wasn’t,” replies Wildchild incredulously. “Well den, Johnny, let me tell you what it WAS like; it started when my best friend walked out on me in a match! It’s because of you dat I got mixed up with Ejiro again in the first place! An’ den, you decide to come back an’ make some kinda speech dat don’ make sense about t-shirts an’ merchandise, when all de while you were just plannin’ on puttin’ me in jail! You accuse me of bein’ a drug dealer, disgrace my family, ruin my reputation wit’ de res’ of de boys, try t’ turn my fans against me, an’ den you break two of my ribs an’ try to cripple me! Oh yeah, an’ one more t’ing…”

SPLAT!

With that, Wildchild suddenly spits in Johnny’s face! “Dat’s for pulling a gun on me, you bastard!”

With embarrassment written all over his face, Johnny reaches into his jacket pocket and retrieves a handkerchief, using it to wipe his face. “You have a right to be mad, Dominic. I just want you to understand that it wasn’t about you; like I said, I was only doing my job. My superiors told me that you were my target, and I only did what I had to in order to bring you in.”

“Is dat so,” asks an unsympathetic Wildchild. “Well den, why didn’t you arrest me when you were first told to?”

“Because it doesn’t exactly work like that,” replies Johnny. “I had to wait until I caught you in the act; it’s just that, after I thought you compromised my identity, I was told to do whatever it took to bring you down.”

“Why do you t’ink you didn’ have any proof, Johnny? We were road dogs; when did you EVER see me do anyt’ing like dat, huh?”

“Well, I never really…”

“An what made you t’ink I had any drugs anyway?”

“Dominic,” stammers Johnny, running his hands through his hair, “you have to admit, you’re kind of on the erratic side, and…”

SPLAT!

“SCREW YOU, JOHNNY,” roars an enraged Wildchild. “You tryin’ t’ say dat I act like I’m on drugs?”

Johnny stares at his feet, speechless.

Wildchild looks at Johnny as if he wants to say something else, but elects not to. As he tries to walk past, Johnny grabs onto his arm desperately. “Dominic, wait! Please!”

Wildchild swats his hand away. “Take your hands off me, traitor!”

Johnny looks at Wildchild, his eyes pleading. “’Nic, please! You don’t have to be like this…”

“YOU MADE ME LIKE DIS!” Wildchild presses both his hands on Johnny’s chest and pushes him away. “I can’t believe you would put me through all of dat! You didn’t even ASK me about it! You were content t’ go ahead and convict me without any evidence; I thought this was America, Johnny!”

Johnny resumes his inspection of his feet, unable to form a reply.

“Guilty until proven innocent, huh? Is dat how dey do t’ings in de Secret Service?”

“…”

“To hell wit’ you Johnny; we’re through here. Goodbye!”

“Dominic…”

But Wildchild ignores him, walking past him without a word towards the parking lot. Johnny leans against the wall, holding back tears as he stares at the ceiling.

“I’ll make it up to you, ‘Nic,” he says to no one in particular. “I’ll do right by you, however long it takes!”

As we:

FADE OUT

October 4, 2003

Cut to Quiz, sticking out like a green hat with an orange bill with his cheesy suit and equally cheesy bowtie as he walks through the backstage area of the Continental Airlines Arena. He's searching high and low for a partner. It could be anyone. It could be Michael Craven, for Christ's sake. It could even be--

"JOHN DURAN! JOHNNYBABY!" The camera pans backwards to reveal John Duran, who is just leaving his dressing room. Duran freezes and cocks his head to the right, noticing the man in the tacky suit coming towards him.

"John, my man, how's life treating ya?" Quiz cheerfully asks.

"Well--"

"That's great!" Quiz interrupts, visibly peeving Duran. "Listen, I've got a great deal for you. How would you like to be my new tag team partner?" Duran shoots Quiz an incredulous look.

"You can't be serious."

"Serious as cancer, my friend!" Quiz puts a hand on Duran's back to show solidarity, but Duran politely shrugs it off. "Okay, okay, no big deal Johnnybaby, it's alright."

"Let's say I'm interested in your...deal, Quiz," Duran says with a hint of sarcasm. "What do I have to do?"

"Now now, hold on there Johnnybaby! I want to make you an offer. You can take the deal I just gave you..." Quiz thrusts a turquoise box in front of Duran's face, covered in red question marks, "Or you can take what's in the mystery box!" Duran puts a hand on the box and pushes it down to reveal his face again to the camera, when suddenly; a man in a Power Ranger mask appears.

"I'D TAKE THE BOX!" The strange man yells out, startling both Quiz and Duran.

"Who the hell are you?" Duran asks the mysterious man.

"I'm David Blazenwing!"

"Oh," Duran says passively, before turning to Quiz as the camera cuts Blazenwing out of the camera. "I'll just take your deal on the table. I could use a little gold, anyway. My waist is getting a little chill." Duran and Quiz exchange evil grins, but Blazenwing interjects into the scene with his pudgy arm.

"Hey, what the hell, don't cut me out of this!" Blazenwing screams to the cameraman. "I wrote an essay on six pieces of paper to get backstage passes here, damnit! College-ruled!"

"Can I see that box?" Duran asks nonchalantly.

"Be my guest," Quiz responds calmly. Duran snatches the box out of Quiz's hands and proceeds to smash Blazenwing over the head with it.

"OW! OW! DAMNIT, I'M THE GAME!" Blazenwing desperately yells as Duran continues to bash Blazenwing over the head with a cardboard box. Blazenwing is talking, but no one wants to listen. The mystery box is flattened as Duran tosses it aside. Finally, Duran turns back to Quiz and resumes his evil grin.

"...So, when's our first match?"

Fade to black.

October 4, 2003

There is a backstage set behind the scenes. Two chairs face each other, with potted plants settled just right to create ambiance in the room. The far wall holds a single poster, old but in good condition. It reads, “The Joy of X,” and has a picture of the recently returned SWF Wrestler posing on a top turnbuckle, illuminated by flashes, and seeming to enjoy himself. Seated in the plush chairs are two people. One is Xstasy himself, wearing black leather pants and a brown sleeveless hoodie, his dreadlocks hanging loosely on the sides of his face and about his head. The other is an unrecognizable but stunning young lady in a mini skirt, and an off white halter top. Her hair is tied back into a pony tail, and her smile is friendly and warm. Her voice is caught by a lapel mic as she speaks, looking into the camera.

-Tia “Hello ladies and gentlemen, I’m Tia Naye, and with me here is The Perfect Drug, Xstasy, who has agreed to do an interview for us after his return on Genesis 4. X, good to have you back.”

Xstasy lifts an eyebrow as he studies the woman carefully.

-X “You’re new?”

-Tia “Yes, actually I am. This is my first interview.”

-X “Your first, huh?”

-Tia “I was told that you were easy to interview.”

-X “Easy?”

-Tia “Well, yes. I mean you are experienced with this sort of thing.”

-X “X-perienced?”

-Tia “After all, it is my first time.”

-X “First time? With the easy, and x-perienced Perfect Drug?”

Tia furrows her brow, a little confused, then her eyes widen.

-Tia “No, no I didn’t mean it like that. I mean, not that I wouldn’t… well, not that I would… err… oh, oh my. I’m sorry, it wasn’t supposed to come out like that, you’re just so good orally that I… NO! No, that’s not it at all…” She blushes as Xstasy smiles at her. “I’m really not good at this…”

-X “You’re doing fine. That’s better than Hardy did his first time.”

-Tia “Thanks. Look, lets start this over.”

-X “Actually, that was a fun subject…”

He shrugs playfully before leaning back in his seat, getting a chuckle from her. She asserts herself by sitting forward.

-Tia “Maybe we’ll get back to it, but first we have to talk about your return at Genesis. It was so short lived, and a lot of people have questions about it. For one, where were you?

X nods, as if he expected that question.

-X “Well, ‘I’ was in Brazil. But the Drug, it doesn’t know where it was. It was looking all over for acceptance, trying to figure out what it was supposed to be doing, trying to get some sense for where it had been and what it had been doing. Brazil was good. A lot of training, A LOT of partying… and a lot of self-reflection and awakening. And that was when it happened. The Drug, you know… the Xstasy… it finally discovered where it was, where it always has been…”

-Tia “Where’s that?”

-X “Right here. In every single arena that the SWF comes to. Because these people are where Xstasy is. These people are where it moves through. That’s all of the men and women… and especially the women,” a bit of a pop for that catchphrase before he continues “who watch the SWF superstars and who cheer and boo and pay tickets and buy tee shirts are here for one reason and one reason only, to get Xstatic. What they never understood was that they are the ones who get IT Xstatic…” X pauses for a bit, sighing and smiling before he sits up straight. “You know Tia, I talk a lot about what I am, about these crowds being addicted to me, but really, it’s the other way around. That’s why I couldn’t stay away. That’s why I owe these fans an apology for staying away from them so long, for not coming through when I should have, and for letting them down. That’s why I have to make sure it never happens again. I’m addicted to those people out there right now, I am addicted. Like the song says, truly YOU are the Perfect Drug.”

His interviewer nods and smiles.

-Tia “So has the time off affected your performance in any way?”

-X “To be honest, I don’t know. I healed up well, and got a lot of conditioning done, but I know I’m gonna take a beating in that ring, and after you haven’t in awhile, you can get hesitant. I don’t want that to happen. I have to just get in there and see how it works, the Drug I mean. Because once you take that Drug, you just start thrill seeking, and risk taking, and before you know it you’re not hesitating at all. That’s what it does best, and that’s what its hoping for.

-Tia “Hmmm… now what a lot of people are wondering about is your thoughts on the federation. You see who’s in the federation now. Who catches your eye as a potential target, or teammate, or anything else?”

-X “Well, that’s a hard one to answer, T. Everyone wants a piece of Flesher, so of course he would be at the top of the list. How can you be Superior to something that’s already Perfect? Dunno, but that’s one. A lot of these new guys are working hard, Danny Williams.” That name brings out a huge roar from the audience as X continues. “The Dyn-O-Mite Kid TNT,” another cheer, “The Boston Strangler,” a mixed reaction, but a good sized one nevertheless, “All great talents, and it would love the chance to mix it up with one of them. Kibagami… yeah, it would love to get in the ring with him after what he did on Sunday… that’s all it should probably say about that…”

-Tia “Talk about that a little bit, because we all know that Edwin is a good friend of yours…”

-X “Yeah, it… I don’t know what to say. Edwin has always been a good friend of mine, hell, he, Mark, Damien and I, and even King, we’ve been through a lot together, you know, and its just hard to watch that, no matter who you are.”

-Tia “What are your thoughts on the Suicide King…”

-X “You mean the King of Hearts.”

-Tia “Yeah, him.”

-X “Yeah, I can’t call him Suicide, beca. He’s Brian, he’s the King. All of this other stuff, I don’t know where its coming from, but the real King, the King of Hearts, he’s the guy that I see, and that I respect. The other part, the Suicide King, well, eventually it’ll be just that. Suicide. He’ll kill it off… eventually…”

-Tia “What about the H-Ville Thugg and his brother, their recent impact on the federation?”

-X “Heh heh heh, funny stuff huh? Thugg is an interesting case, you know. He just, you never know what he’s gonna do. Sometimes he does something so smart you wish you had thought of it, and then he does something stupid, ruining friendships, relying on his size to get him out of every situation, its just one of those things. We’ve talked, he and I, and he’s doing fine. We used to go visit Branden… that’s his brother… all of the time. Didn’t even recognize him at first. Hmm.”

The Kid shrugs again and Tia, now in the rhythm of the interview, fires off another question.

-Tia “And Mark Stevens, he’s the commissioner apparent now.”

-X “Yeah, how about that! Of course, Brian has a scheme for everything, but man, Grand Slam for Commish. Now that’s something. No one is as respected as Mark. Except maybe Edwin… both of them. With Mark as a commissioner, well that just does great things for business. The new talent that guy could help rear, not to mention the sense of the business, it just works out great. I hope.”

-Tia “You hope?”

-X “Us guys, all of us, we’ve made a lot of enemies as well as friends.”

-Tia “That makes sense.”

-X “Mark less than others, but the less enemies you have, the harder they work to break you. He’s strong, he can take it, but you never know what’s coming…”

-Tia “I see. What about your goals, Xstasy? Now that you’re back, what is it you want to accomplish?”

-X “Well, it’s seen a lot… the Perfect Drug, you know…” He pauses, as if thinking back on something, then shakes his head. “There are a lot of things its seen, and a lot of things its done. But the one thing that has always eluded it, always eluded the capture of the rapture that is Xstasy… the ONE thing it has always wanted and has never been truly given the chance to take…”

-Tia “The SWF Championship.”

-X “X-actly.”

-Tia “And do you think you could take it now?”

-X “Dunno. But what the Drug does know is this: its taken every other prize in this Federation. Tag Teams, Hardcore, US Title, ICTV Title- its held every single one. Only one other remains. It doesn’t know when, or where, but it does know its destiny. When the Xstatic fans want it, it will be theirs. That title will belong to the Perfect Drug.”

-Tia “Great, thank you so much, Xstasy. Any final thoughts before we close out?”

-X “Yeah, just one, when did you get so professional?”

-Tia “Well, I have to be, I have a job to do.”

-X “And when you’re done with your job, what then?”

-Tia “Umm… I don’t know…”

-X “How about dinner?”

-Tia “What?”

-X “Dancing?”

-Tia “Is that such a good idea…”

-X “A date. Yes. It’s a good idea, just good times with good people.”

Tia Naye smiles and shrugs. But hey, who can resist the charm of the Perfect Drug. Its addictive.

-Tia “Tonight?”

-X “Eleven O’Clock?”

-Tia “24 hour breakfast?”

-X “Your treat?”

-Tia “What?!”

-X “Just kidding. We’re on.”

-Tia “We’re on.” She looks into the camera, giggling like a schoolgirl. “And WE’RE off, I’m Tia Naye, this is Xstasy, and THAT… was the interview. SWF Storm will be right back.”

She rises and turns to Xstasy smiling, as he laughs and stands up across from her. The show fades to commercial, leaving the fans chanting and cheering for more of the Joy of X.

October 4, 2003

Ben Hardy sits among a veritable fleet of reporters that are standing about a podium with an American Flag draped behind it. Turning his back to the podium, Benjamin speaks to the people at home that have to be wondering just what the devil is going on at this point. “Ladies and gentlemen, I and the reporters gathered around me are here to cover what some are calling the state of the union address of Ejiro Fasaki. He is scheduled to join us at any… wait here he comes.”

Stepping out to the stage to a barrage of light bulbs exploding from the press gallery, The United States Champion makes his way to the press podium. Wearing a smart suit and holding the title belt over his shoulder, Ejiro moves right past the gaggle of media and their assorted questions. Standing up on the dais, Ejiro shushes the entire crowd by raising a hand into the air.

“Gentlemen and Ladies, I will answer all of your questions in due time. But first I have a prepared statement or three; I would like to make in order to hopefully move this along in a more effective manner. First as you should all know, I was able to successfully defend my United States Title once again from the foreign New Zealand menace and once again prove that this country is the best country. Because well, who is going to stop us? Sure the other country might be bigger and stronger and have more sheep. But this country has a little something I like to call… a steel chain. And without steel chains what exactly would this country be? I will tell you. We would have a whole lot more trouble knocking down big bastards who possess no other skill than being big.”

Pausing for a moment to take a swig of water, “I am also pleased to note that my well-schooled protégé Wildchild managed to prove that he was in fact not a world class criminal. Suffice to say I never doubted him for a moment, I doubted him for days. But now that all doubts have been removed, I am ready to once again mentor the high flying Human Hurricane to even more success in the SWF. I must admit that it is always a pleasure to see that waste of human flesh Johnny Dangerous get dropped on his head. In fact, I pleased to announce that I am in process of developing a new hold that I proudly dub the Wild Ride Deluxe. Of course, I won’t be actually teaching it to Wildchild since I feel as though it is too good of a move. So once I have it perfected, the Wild Ride Deluxe will find a happy little place right next to the cobra crossface and the Ejirocation in the most debilitating list of maneuvers the world has ever known. But back to Wildchild, the simple fact however is that boy made me really proud at the Pay Per View, but not so proud that I have lost perspective on Wildchild’s progress. So I have devised a little test for my fine-feathered friend. So at our next show, Wildchild will be facing… something … of my own choosing in order to prove to me that he has become the warrior I think he has. And of course, being in control of Wildchild’s contract I can make him do it regardless of how he might feel. But I am not completely without feeling, so if Wildchild… ha… ha… manages … ha … ha… to win, he can go on his own way and be free of our little bargain.”

“Finally,” Ejiro mentions, “on a sadder note. I am rather embarrassed by the pay per view performance of one Thomas Flesher. Although Tom did indeed manage to narrowly defeat my good and true friend The Judge William Hearford at Genesis IV I have to question the methodology of said win. No longer the man of principle of that we all thought he was, Tom decided that he would rather suck up to a bunch of tasteless New York disease bags than stand up for his own teammate. I was treated as shamelessly as a Las Vegas whore was by a congressman and Tom Flesher would prefer their company to that of his own teammates? Well I say this Tom Flesher. When you realize that your merchandise still doesn’t move regardless how much you suck up. When you realize that the fans will not be there to run into the ring and draw a disqualification saving your title. When you come crawling back to Justice and Rule and say, ‘I was wrong.’ That is the moment that you will learn the true meaning of hard cheese.”

“I now open the floor to your questions, Mickey!”

A short little man apparently made of gristle starts to speak, “Ejiro, YER A BUM! Getting thrown around by Va’aiga despite working his legs all match long, what do plan to do when facing larger guys in the future?”

“Well to be honest, I have noticed a whole lot of the kicking of my ass by these really big monsters in the SWF. Sure they still lose and all each and every time, but I think that I still can improve some minute fractions of my game. As such I am planning on improving my physique a bit while working to pack on some muscle in the weeks and months to come. In the end I hope to get up to perhaps two-hundred and twenty pounds and give myself a little more beef for my inevitable climb all the way to the top of the SWF heap.”

“By god, you’ll be a WRECKING MACHINE!”

“Thanks Mickey. Next question, Memphis Eel?”

“Thank yew. Thank yew very much, Bubba. Say there, you think that Justice and Rule will ever get to be a tag team again?”

“Thanks for asking Eel. I have had numerous discussions with Judge over the course of the last two months since the world tag team title was stolen away by the Unholy Trinity. Of course, with Judge being very busy over the last month defeating the entire roster including myself on the road to exposing the fraud that is Tom Flesher, those plans had to be put on hold. But as of right now, Justice and Rule are focused and ready to defeat any tag team the SWF can possibly put together. Although we would be remiss if we didn’t mention just how great we believe the current champions, Double Jeopardy, are. But let’s be honest about this, fear is a factor for them since they know they can’t outwit, out think, or out last Justice and Rule. After all, they should already be in an amazing race to hand us back our titles. Because big brother is watching them, and we’re ready to be kings of the $100,000 pyramid once again. Fooog?”

“RARRRRRRRR~! FOOOG AM ASKING QUESTION! Ejiro you were well known as a follower of The Suicide King’s reign at the top of the federation. With ‘Grand Slam’ Mark Stevens now in the head office, how do you see this effecting you? RARRRRRRRRR~! DAN RATHER AM FOOOG’S BITCH!”

“Well to be quite honest I would have to point out to Mark that he has a really fine set of hair and I believe that he is also quite virile. I am sure with those facts in mind that Stevens will notice that I have never said a single bad thing about him or any of his family. So if he wants to wreck some sort of shit, I recommend starting with someone like Nathan Kibagami who actually crippled a man last week. I, on the other hand, never really got a thing out of the Suicide King administration that I didn’t earn. Did I ever get a World Title shot? Nope. Did I ever get my enemies placed in some sort of handicapped situation? No I did not. I support any and all administration that has control over my career. Ben Hardy do you have a question?”

“Yes I do.”

“Keep it to yourself, you bastard. Skipper, bring it home.”

“Ejiro you have been called an American Patriot, a superhero to the downtrodden and a sexual Tyrannosaurus. How exactly could someone be as great as you?”

“Oh Skipper, although we might join for a night or seven months in great and powerful lovemaking, it is theoretically impossible for any one of you to be as great as me. And that holds true for all of you watching at home as well. And do you know why? Because I’m better than you are, and I can prove it! And there is no question about it.”

October 4, 2003

(Comet) – And welcome back to SWF Storm…our first promo show in as long as I can remember. And we’re just about…

“Muwhahahahaha!”

(Riley) – Or maybe not!

(Comet) – You said it Bobby.

“They don’t know…”

“Who we be!’

“They don’t know…”

“Who we be!’

“What they don’t know is…”

And the crowd explodes as the curtain flies back and the Hville Thugg rolls out onto the stage.

(Comet) – And I didn’t think we’d see him tonight!! Not after the beating he took by the hands of his own brother at Genesis!!

(Riley) – I mean, really Comet…that’s gotta take a toll on a guy! Being Untamed by his own flesh and blood…that’s gotta hurt even more than usual.

(Comet) – You’re right Bobby…I think that was a blow to Thugg’s soul, less his body…although, it looks like it might have agrivated his neck because he’s wearing a neckbrace out here tonight.

Thugg rolls in his wheelchair down the ramp towards the ring, his cane laying comfortably in his lap. Upon reaching ringside, Thugg rolls over to the stairs where he stands up and uses his cane and the ropes to walk up the steps and into the ring. Inside the ring, a ring attendent meets him to provide a means of speaking the masses…a microphone.

(Comet) – Well, I’m sure Thugg’s gonna address the situation right here.

As the crowd dies down, Thugg raises the microphone to speak.

(HVT) – Yo…

But the fans cut him off before he can continue. After allowing the crowd to yell itself out, Thugg begins again…

(HVT) – Yo…I ain’t even gonna beat ‘round the bush and shit…no. I’m gonna get straight to the shit. I know y’all seen Genesis, right? Y’all seen what happened, right? Mark Stevens is commissioner…I know y’all are happy ‘bout that shit. And you know…I’m happy about that too. Cause anything’s better than King, right?

The fans cheer for the fact that King is no longer commissioner.

(Comet) – I couldn’t have said it better myself Bobby.

(Riley) – No one asked you to.

(HVT) – But yo…I ain’t here to talk about Mark and about how this will change the federation forever. I’m here to talk about this…

The SmarkTron fires up and allows everyone in attendence to relive the events that transpired last Sunday. It shows Bastion slapping on a one handed choke on Thugg, spinning around, and slamming his own brother to the canvas with an Untamed Chokeslam!

(HVT) – Yeah…so y’all seen that. Now, I was backstage tonight, and I overheard people talking ‘bout that…and they seem to think that it’s my fault for trying to control Bastion and not let him run loose. And to that I say…yo, eat me. Y’all don’t know shit…y’all don’t know me, and ya sure as hell don’t know my brother. He’s been through more than you can imagine, and he’s not quite right in the head. If I didn’t try to keep him under control, he would have probably killed Craven…and then killed Dace…and he definitely would have permanently destroyed Mark’s knee. Hell yo, he might have even ripped that shit right from the socket. There was a job to do last Sunday, and it got done…mainly because I managed to control Bastion for most of the match. So, to Dace Night…you’re fuckin’ welcome!

(Comet) – I sense some hostility there. Perhaps Thugg feels like people are ungrateful towards him.

(HVT) – But I ain’t gonna harp on that shit either…nah. I gotta settle somethin’ right fuckin’ now…and I’m gonna do it. So…B…get the fuck out here!

(Comet) – He’s calling out Bastion!! Thugg’s looking to settle the score right here and now!

(Riley) – Is that really wise, Comet? Is Thugg looking to get another ass whooping from his own brother? In the state he’s in, Thugg had better be VERY careful.

Darkness falls over the arena, bringing silence from the crowd along with it. The clink of a jail cell closing breaks the awkwardness, followed by…

“ATTEN-CHUUUUUUNNNNN!!!”

Red spotlights begin to slowly make their way from the far end of the arena towards the stage, and reach there just as the speakers bellow…

“So I'm outside of da club and you think I'm a puuuuuuuunk!!”

”So I go to my loaded tech 9 that's off in the truuuuuuuunk!!”

“I told you muthafuckas…I ain’t never scared!”

“I ain't never scared (eastside!)”

”I ain't never scared (westside!)”

”I ain't never scared (southside!)”

”I ain't never scared (northside!)”

”I ain't never scared (southside!)”

”I ain't never scared (eastside!)”

”I ain't never scared (westside!)”

And as the remix of “Never Scared” by Bone Crusher pounds into the heads of all in attendence, Bastion walks confidently onto the stage to a chorus of boos from the crowd.

(Comet) – And there he is…the man that turned on his own brother! His crippled brother!

(Riley) – Is that new music?

(Comet) – I think so.

(Riley) – He’s only had 2 matches…how can he have new music.

(Comet) – I think it symbolizes his break away from Thugg…he’s his own man now.

(HVT) – YO! CUT THAT SHIT!

Just as Thugg finishes, the music is cut, but that doesn’t stop Bastion from making his way to ringside.

(HVT) – Oh…so you got some new music now, huh little brother! You think you big shit, don’t ya? Well, I got news for ya brah…you ain’t shit. You think you got big balls cause you did a few fuckin’ chokeslams…please nigga. Try that shit on me when my fuckin’ neck ain’t broke. You ain’t never try that shit when we was comin’ up. But that’s cool yo…it’s all good.

The fans are confused as Bastion slides under the bottom rope and into the ring. Thugg keeps his distance, mostly, but it seems it’s more because of his inability to walk a lot. Bastion stands tall in the middle of the ring, allowing Thugg to get closer, but neither man attacks.

(HVT) – Yeah playa…it’s all good.

(Comet) – NO it’s not! What is Thugg talking about?!? Bastion can’t get away with chokeslamming 2 freaking hall of famers and probably permanently injuring another’s knee. How is that good.

(Riley) – I think it’s just an experssion Comet.

(HVT) – I had some time to think while I was in observation. And you know what…I needed that shit. I needed somebody to run up on me and straight blast me.

The fans are really confused now…

(HVT) – No…trust me…I needed that shit. Wanna know why? Wanna know why B? Cause I was goin’ soft. I was actin’ like a little bitch…with all the stocks and management and oh, please help me Mark…and all that bull shit! Yeah…I’ll admit that shit…I’ll admit that I’d lost it…I’d lost what I had when I came here…I stopped wreckin’ people’s shit…and started tryin’ to play mind games and be all political with my shit! But that’s to you B…all that shit stops here! It stops now! You best believe that!

(Riley) – What does that mean? Does that mean he’s gonna go back to whippin’ everybody’s ass whenever he feels like it? Does this mean he’s gonna go back to turning on his friends like he used to do?

(HVT) – All the bullshit stops now! And it’s all thanks to you B! You gave me exactly what I needed on Sunday! BUT…

(Comet) – I didn’t think he’d let him off that easy!

The fans cheer for the conjunction…

(HVT) – But…mutha fucka…don’t think for one fuckin’ second that I’m gonna forget this shit! Oh hell no! You know better than anyone…I don’t forget shit! I ain’t forgot dat bitch Apostle who ran out before I could whoop his ass…I ain’t forgot that bitch Sarah who…well, I ain’t even gonna go there…and I ain’t gonna forget you! Because, as of right this fuckin’ second…I have no brother! Brother’s don’t do shit like what you did on Sunday! I fuckin’ got you outta that center…and I fuckin’ brought you here you ungrateful bitch! I gave you all this shit! I gave you your moves…that fuckin Untamed you hit me with! I FUCKIN’ GAVE THAT TO YOU! I brought you here…gave you plenty of people to fuck up…gave you money…a phat ride…a place to live…I gave you everything! And I see how you repay me! But it’s cool…cause now, all bets are off! We’re fuckin’ through…me and you..we’re nothing…and you can tell moms what’s up, cause I don’t give a fuck!!

(Comet) – Holy crap…Thugg is flying off the handle now! I think he’s losing it!

Thugg is very close to Bastion now…so close, the saliva that flies from every statement Thugg makes, hits Bastion in the face…but the big man merely stares into Thugg’s eyes like he might die if he breaks contact.

(HVT) – That’s right…I don’t give a fuck about her…I don’t give a fuck about this fed…I don’t give a fuck about these fans…and you know what…I DON’T GIVE A FUCK ABOUT YOU! My only reason for living right now, is going to be to make you fucking suffer! Make you feel my fuckin’ pain! Some people may feel back for you…but I don’t…oh no…I’m gonna make you fuckin’ pay!

(Riley) – But how? His neck is even worse than it was before…

(HVT) – But yo…you ain’t gotta worry about that now…oh no. You can get your chill on for real…you can relax…think about all the titles you’re gonna win and shit…all the people’s whose ass your gonna kick. Yeah…you’re straight…for now! Oh, and let me let you in on a little secret I got. There’s an experimental procedure out there that could fix my neck for good…and I’m gonna get it! I don’t know how long it’s gonna take…I don’t know when I’ll be back…but what I do know is…when I come back…boy…I’M GONNA FUCKING GO TO TOWN ON YOUR GRILL…I’M GONNA BEAT YOU WITHIN AN INCH OF YOUR FUCKIN’ LIFE…I AM GOING TO WRECK…

YOUR…

SHIT!!

The fans cheer for Thugg’s catchphrase, conveniently forgetting that he just said he was leaving for a while.

(Comet) – Wait…does that mean no more Thugg?

(Riley) – I think for a while Comet.

(Comet) – But who’s gonna control his monster Bastion?

(Riley) – I don’t know…you?

Thugg stares at Bastion, right in his eyes, for what seems like an eternity, before he pulls the mic up for the last time.

(HVT) – Remember this shit bitch…I will be back…and I am going to wreck your shit you fuckin’ pussy ass bitch-made mutha fucka!

And with that, Thugg starts to limp past Bastion towards the ramp-side of the ring. He gets a few steps away when he feels a huge paw on his shoulder, causing him to spin back around and face his brother.

(HVT) – What bitch?!?

Bastion stares at Thugg, but then he smiles and starts to nod his head.

(Comet) – What’s this? I think Bastion’s happy…I think this is exactly what he wanted.

(Riley) – He knew Thugg was going soft…he just wanted him to be himself…and he did it! Now that’s a smart kid…

The fans are, once again, confused as Thugg looks at Bastion with intrigue. Bastion then puts his fist straight out, looking for Thugg to hit it with his own fist. The fans scream for Thugg not to engage with Bastion, but it’s his brother for god’s sake…so Thugg gives his brother a pound…AND THEN THEY EMBRACE!!! (in a manly way).

(Riley) – Awww…ain’t that sweet! They just made up, although, by that tirade from Thugg, it’s hard to tell.

(Comet) – I don’ t know what to think about this…

The fans boo while Thugg and Bastion, realizing what happened, embrace…

…that is until…

BASTION KICKS HIS BROTHER IN THE STOMACH!!!

(Comet) – NO!! WAIT!!

Thugg doubles over from the blow, and the fans are near riot level as Bastion pulls him into a standing head scissors. With an extreme amount of effort on his part, Bastion flips Thugg up in powerbomb positions, and then…

WHAM!

…brings him down with a powerbomb…

WHAM!

…and another powerbomb…

KA-BAAAAAAMMMM!!!!

…AND THEN A JACKNIFE POWERBOMB!!!

(Comet) – I can’t believe it! Bastion…what kind of human being would…I mean, that’s your brother!! How could you do that!!

(Riley) – I’m just amazed that Bastion was able to perform The Third Offense on a near 400 pound man.

Bastion stands over his brother with a grimacing look on his face, while the fans hurl objects at the large DC native. Bastion gives Thugg a slight kick of humiliation and a smirk as he begins to head towards the ramp-side of the ring…

“BASTION!!!”

…until a booming voice blares over the speakers!

(Riley) – IT’S ‘GRAND SLAM’ MARK STEVENS!!!

(Comet) – That’s commssioner Stevens if you’re scoring at home.

The fans erupt as Mark’s face appears on the Smarktron, a glare of anger in his eye.

(Mark) – Who in the hell do you think you are?? What kind of man are you picking on your own unsuspecting brother? If it weren’t for him, you wouldn’t even be here! And believe me, he’s got way more faith in you than I do…but you knew that from the way I sent your ass packing from Bases Loaded after ownly a few weeks. Oh, but you like to attack people weaker than you…you like to blow out my damn knee from behind…you like to attack your own brother who’s in a freaking wheelchair! You like to attack cripples do you Bastion? Well, I got news for you bub…not in the NEW SWF! You had better quickly recognize how we do things around here, or it’s gonna be a real quick stay for ya. Cause, around here…when you do those kinds of things, you’re gonna get punished! And you, cretin of my loins, will pay for what you did here tonight, and what you did last Sunday!!

(Comet) – Oooo! What’s Mark got in mind?

(Riley) – I don’t think this is fair…it’s too late to suspend him or fine him for the events of Sunday. It’s freaking Friday!

(Comet) – What about what he did tonight?

(Riley) – That was nothing really.

(Mark) – I want you to listen…and listen good. Since you like to pick on people smaller and weaker than you…I’ve got something for you! Let’s see how well you do against someone your own size! Because, next Wednesday…on Lockdown…you will go one on one with the The Maori Badass himeself! That’s right you little shit…it’s you versus Va’aiga!!!

(Comet) – Holy cow!! What a match!! Bastion versus Va’aiga!! Two of these giants going after each other! That’s got brutality written all over it!

(Riley) – You said it Comet.

(Comet) – What a huge matchup!

(Mark) – You better go prepare yourself! You’re gonna need it! Because on Wednesday, Va’aiga is gonna tear you limb from limb, and you’re truly gonna see what it’s like to be here in the S…W…F!! AND THAT, MY FRIEND’S BROTHER…IS A DAMN PROMISE!!

The Smarktron flickers off, and Bastion merely exits as normal. He’s not shaken…he’s not uncomfortable...nothing. He simply walks up the ramp towards the stage, never even taking a moment to look back at his brother, who is still down on the canvas lying on his back!

(Comet) – Oh my god!! What a matchup Mark just made for Lockdown! Bastion vs. Va’aiga! IT’s gonna be huge! But for now, our prayers go out to Thugg and hopefully he gets well after being so brutalized by his own brother.

(Riley) – I hope he gets that surgery…cause then he’ll come back and kick the crap out of everyone.

(Comet) – Well, we’ll have to wait and see on that one. But for now, we have to let it all soak in, so we’re gonna take a little break!

October 4, 2003

As the special promotacular edition of SWF Storm comes back over the Samrks TV Network, all of the lights in the arena suddenly drop out, casting the capacity crowd into total darkness.

Bobby: Oh for… what now?

Comet: Citizen Riley, I swear that one more outburst out of you and I am going to make sure you will not be able to foist your evil ways upon the fine SWF fans any more!!

Bobby: Am I finally getting the super-hero a little cranky?

Comet: Keep talking and find out…

By now, the crowd is starting to become restless... they are clapping, talking, shouting, waving signs, waiting for whatever is about to happen...

::Crack!!!::

The crowd, simply put, explodes!

The crack of a bat and the roar of the crowd announce Grand Slam!! It quickly fades into the opening drumline of "Go Home" by Blessid Union of Souls. The SmarkTron lights up with baseball highlights mixed with big spots from Grand Slam's matches while flashing the words "Grand Slam", "Mark Stevens" and "The Heavy Hitter". The various multicolored lights flash in time with the rhythmic drumbeats until the drums roll fast and the lead singer yells out "Go Home", then the arena is flooded with bright white light!! Red and white pyro explodes at the top of the entrance ramp!! When the smoke clears and everyone can see again, "Grand Slam" Mark Stevens is standing underneath the SmarkTron!!! The crowd erupts in massive cheers for the Heavy Hitter!!!

Funyon: Ladies and Gentlemen, please welcome from Lincoln Nebraska, SWF Hall of Famer and the NEW Commissioner of the SmartMarks Wrestling Federation, The Heavy Hitter… “GRAND SLAM” MARK STEVENS!!!!

As Funyon makes his announcement, Grand Slam runs back and forth on the stage, waving his arms, pumping his fists, anything to fire up the crowd! The Heavy Hitter walks down the ramp slowly, using his cane every foot of the way and savoring every moment of cheers and pointing at various fans, slapping hands and keeping them screaming! Tonight, as the camera zooms in, he is wearing an SWF baseball cap!! When the crowd sees this, they cheer even louder, nearly drowning out his music!! Grand Slam steps into the ring between the ropes and heads to a corner. He then climbs to the second turnbuckle, looks at the crowd, then pumps his right fist into the air several times, firing the crowd up even more and causing a flurry of flashbulbs to pop, illuminating the ring like a strobe-light!! Before dropping back to the mat, Grand Slam flings his cap out to the crowd, giving some lucky fan a unique souvenir from the SWF!!! He looks over at the oft-abused Funyon and asks for the mike. With a smile, the ring announcer hands it over.

GSMS: Thank you for that ovation. And let me tell you all one thing… it is great to be here tonight in New Jersey!!

The crowd goes ballistic for the cheap pop, causing Grand Slam to break into a huge smile and flash the ubiquitous “thumbs up” sign to the fans.

GSMS: I have some things that I feel I just have to talk about. First off… Genesis was one hell of a show! In all my years in the business, I don’t think I have ever payed for the replay of a show I was in, but this week I did. That was, without a doubt one of, if not the greatest show we have ever put on here in the SWF!! (huge pop) And none of it would be possible without your support! The reason we do what we do, the treason we put life and limb on the line night after night is for you, the fans, so give yourselves a round of applause!!

The capacity crowd lets out an almighty yell, drowning out the next few words of Grand Slam’s speech…

GSMS: …out of the way, let’s get down to business. I am sure you are all wondering about the Suicide King. (huge boos for the former Commish) Well, let’s just say that he and I have spoken, and I know where he stands, but he wanted the opportunity to come out here tonight and speak his mind, and I agreed. So, I will let him tell you what we talked about this week.

The crowd isn’t sure how to react to that, so they just give some polite cheers and wait for more info…

GSMS: Point two: Silent. After what he did to Edwin on Sunday, I was ready to hand him his walking papers (pop) and show him the fastest way out of the company, but as you may have seen earlier tonight I was convinced that there was a better course of action. So Silent is still an active wrestler in the SWF. But here is a little warning Nate… I’ve got my eye on you. You even so much as step one toe out of line, and I am through with you.

Nice pop for that as Grand Slam makes a circuit of the ring, obviously getting fired up.

GSMS: And before I go on to my last point, let me make an aside here. I talked a lot in the last few weeks about cleaning up the Fed and making it a good place for real wrestling again. So this is the promise I make to you, the fans. No more Chris Wilson “I can’t beat them in the ring so I’ll kidnap their members and hold them hostage in my secret lair” crap. If you break the law, you are going to jail. Now I understand that tempers flare in the building and fights will break out, that is part of the business. But if any of you think about bringing a gun into the building, you better think twice. I know King let a lot slide around here and settled a lot of lawsuits under the table and on the sly, but I don’t have his connections or his flexible morality, so that crap stops NOW. (Big pop) With that having been said though, all of the boys in the back can feel safe from the random firings King was so damn fond of. If you step over the line, I’ll let you know in no uncertain terms, but I will give you a second chance. But remember this… a second chance is a precious thing. You waste them and they are gone.

GSMS: Now, on to my last point of business. A few weeks ago, Thugg’s brother came into this Fed and proceeded to start cracking skulls. And knees. And I would like nothing better than to fire his ass and make this Fed a safer place to be for all of us. But you see, Thugg used his portion of the stock to push through a pretty unusual contract for his brother. Without going into specifics, Bastion is making damn close to the minimum amount per week we pay. But his severance package is friggin’ immense. Let me put it this way, I could either keep Bastion around, or I can pay him something like the annual salary cap in the NFL. So I think my decision is, unfortunately, pretty easy. Bastion stays, but don’t think I’m making it easy on him… Wednesday night at Lockdown…

Red spotlights begin to slowly make their way from the far end of the arena towards the stage, and reach there just as the speakers bellow…

“So I'm outside of da club and you think I'm a puuuuuuuunk!!”

”So I go to my loaded tech 9 that's off in the truuuuuuuunk!!”

“I told you muthafuckas…I ain’t never scared!”

“I ain't never scared (eastside!)”

”I ain't never scared (westside!)”

”I ain't never scared (southside!)”

”I ain't never scared (northside!)”

”I ain't never scared (southside!)”

”I ain't never scared (eastside!)”

”I ain't never scared (westside!)”

And as the remix of “Never Scared” by Bone Crusher pounds into the heads of all in attendence, Bastion walks confidently onto the stage to a chorus of boos from the crowd.Bastion walks with a purpose, never paying attention to the fans, totally focused on the man in the ring. Bastion dives under the bottom rope as quickly as possible and pops to his feet. Once inside, he pops to his feet and moves over in front of a seemingly unfazed Mark Stevens.

GSMS: Hello Bastion… as I was saying…

Bastion moves forward, bumping chests with the new Commissioner.

GSMS: Junior, you need to back off a little. You’re invading my personal space.

Grand Slam takes a step or two back and starts to speak again, but again Bastion steps up and bumps into him.

GSMS: Bastion… back off or termination fee be damned, I’m firing you!

Bastion, showing he isn’t stupid, takes a step back from Grand Slam, a sadistic “cat-playing-with-a-mouse” smile tweaking the corners of his mouth.

GSMS: That’s better. Now, as I was saying, I’m not going to make it easy on you, not after what you did to me and how you conducted yourself at Genesis. I’ve seen what you can, and will, do to someone smaller than you, but I can’t wait to see how you handle someone your own size…

The arena drops to darkness, as Va'aiga's shadow appears in the entranceway, dressed in his hooded training top with the hood down. A huge cheer races through the crowd as they realize what this means. The bassline of "Bring The Pain" by Method Man starts up and red strobe lights pierce the darkness of the entrance ramp as Va'aiga begins his slow walk to the ring, throwing a few phantom jabs on the way. The Smarktron shows images of Va'aiga shadow boxing and posing, cut with some of his biggest in ring hits - Maori Dropping Jay Dawg onto a flaming section of canvas, flattening Ejiro with a Lariat, Camel Clutching Jay Dawg with a bent golf club, Maori Dropping CIA through the windshield of the Mag 7 limo, smashing Crow with a chair, staring off with Janus, holding up both the Tag and Hardcore Gamers belts after the tag title win, hitting the Decapitator on Ejiro with Dace Night... Inside the ring Va'aiga rolls down his hood and raises his fists to the crowd, then takes off his top and throws it to a ring assistant before firing off the Maori hand sign. Then, without a pause he moves over to stand toe-to-toe with Bastion.

GSMS: Bastion, on Lockdown you have a match with the Maori Badass himself!

Bastion appears noticeably unconcerned. Va’aiga, without looking, reaches out his hand for the mike. With a smile, Grand Slam hands it to him.

Va’aiga: Slammer, I told you once backstage that I ain;t nobody’s errand boy and I don’t follow nobody orders…

The crowd, a little worried that this means someone else has turned against their Heavy Hitter Hero, starts a small mixed reaction for the Unholy Trinity member.

Va’aiga: But if you’re askin’ if I’ll teach this Legacy a lesson in pain, then I got one answer for you…

The crowd pops at this and yells along with him…

Va’aiga and crowd: Turn up… KICK ASS!!!

Huge pop by the crowd as Va’aiga turns to leave. Bastion starts after him, murder in his eyes, until Va’aiga suddenly turns around and gets right in the monster’s face.

Va’aiga: BOOOOOO-YAHH!!!

The two men stare each other down as Grand Slam takes back the mike.

GSMS: Well friends and neighbors, I guess that wraps up everything I needed to say tonight except one thing… Welcome to a new era in the SWF!!! And that…

GSMS and crowd: my friends, is a damn promise!!!!

The crowd explodes as Grand Slam tosses the mike out of the ring to Funyon and rolls out of the ring, starting the long trek up the ramp. In the ring, the two opponents stare each other down, ready for the war to begin…

October 4, 2003

In the bowels of Continental Airlines Arena, the Boston Strangler sits back in a locker room, with the door locked, keeping the other SWF superstars sharing the room locked out. ‘STRANGLER! GODDAMNIT, I NEED TO TAKE A PISS!” screams Xero from the outside as he pounds on the door, desperately trying to break down the door in any way possible. Strangler finally breaks from his nearly comatose state and gets up wearily, striding toward the door. He lazily flicks the switch, and allows Xero to burst through the door and go sprinting straight for the bathroom without giving TBS a second glance. Strangler flops right back down into his chair and drifts back into his own little world, slipping further and further away from reality. A flush comes from the background, and Xero comes striding into the locker room. He looks over, sees the expression on his face, and starts to walk away, muttering, “First the steroids, now he’s high as all hell…how the fuck do I get a push around here? LSD?” Xero slams the door back against the wall, and it runs back before staying open a crack. Strangler ignores the door, and randomly pulls himself out of his chair and starts walking around the locker room, muttering to himself.

“OK…OK…when they let me out of that rehab place, they said you needed to get the feelings out. I tried that damn journal-writing thing. Total crock of shit. I tried art….worst idea ever. What’d he say was the next one…..talking! That’s it…talking…but who do I have to talk to? TNT is incommunicado. Mark’s got to be commish, Thugg has his own set of problems…even Edwin would understand how I feel. But he’s in some fucking hospital bed or something. Jesus…I’m totally fucking alone…”

Strangler paces back and forth some more, seemingly working himself up even more. “Well…the doc said get it out, any way possible. So, I guess I talk to myself. Who knows, maybe it works? Maybe it makes me insane? Whatever…I just gotta do this…” Strangler pauses for a moment, gathering his thoughts for a moment, then launches into his rapid fire diatribe…

“WHY TAYLOR? Why did it have to be Erek Taylor? I was ready to fight Chris Wilson! Sure, I don’t fucking LIKE Chris Wilson, but god knows I’d rather fight him for a year straight than have to face Erek! Wilson was the one who fucked me over! And Erek…I fucked Erek over. No questions about it. I retired him. I took away his livelihood…”

“But I’m different! I’m different now! I’m not the man I was last year! I don’t do roids, I don’t go insane, I don’t attack anyone and everyone in my way! I’m disciplined! I’m a champion now! I earned it all! Erek comes out, questions me earning that World title, questions my dedication, questions my ability…total crap! That belt was mine through my own talent, and nothing else!”

“But maybe…Erek told me that belt was his…he beat me before…did I cost him his shot at glory? How the hell would I feel if Erek had taken away my livelihood…I dunno…”

“But that’s in the PAST! Right now, I’m not the kind of person who would hurt Erek like that again. I’m not gonna hurt Erek at all! If I do hurt Erek…if I do…then god knows what will happen. I refuse to let myself become what I was last year. I REFUSE to allow myself to slink back down that path. It WILL NOT HAPPEN!”

“So what do I do? I can’t fight Taylor…he can fight me. I can’t yell at Erek. He can yell at me. And he’s back for good. I need to stand up…I need to fight…but how? Erek’s ready for this fight, and I’m not. I’m…I’m….I’m afraid. I’m afraid of Erek Taylor. I’m afraid that he’s the key to the pandora’s box inside me…he’s the thing that’s gonna trigger all the emotions, all the evil….I have to fight, but I have to not fight. What the HELL do I do?”

“God, I need some advice…and of course, when I need it, I’m alone. Again. Always fucking alone. Goddamn…”

A chair goes clattering to the ground outside the door, which snaps Strangler out of his intense conversation with himself. Strangler springs over to the door, and pulls it open the rest of the way, revealing a folded-up steel chair sitting there directly outside his door. Strangler looks around warily, afraid of what might be waiting outside. He cranes his neck, looking behind all the crates and boxes and tables, then slowly walks back into the room, still nervous.

“Goddamn…look at how paranoid I’ve become! This is all Taylor’s fault…this is all Erek’s fault! But it wouldn’t be Erek’s fault if I hadn’t retired him, which is MY fault! But I wouldn’t have done that to him if he hadn’t fucked me over all summer long, which is HIS fault…or is it? Goddamn! I don’t know who’s right anymore! I’ve always known who’s right and who’s wrong before! But this time…goddamnit! The fans cheered for him, now they cheer for me, but I don’t fight! Do they like seeing me get beaten up? Or do they want to see me beat HIM up? No…they don’t want that…they know what happens when I start with Erek. They know that I snap…that can’t happen again. But it has to! Or does it?”

“I…I need to do something. I can’t just take it from Erek like this forever. I need to make him stop…but I can’t fight him, and I can’t debate him, since he’s right and I’m wrong…I think. But I guess that I have to try. Otherwise….oh, boy. This is horrible. This is truly, truly horrible. What am I gonna do?” Strangler flies out and slams his fist into the nearby locker, sending a dent into the fairly thick metal. Strangler looks down at his hand, then grins as the wave of pain rushes through his fist. He lashes out again, drilling the door of the locker with punches and elbows and kicks and everything he has, totally destroying the door. Finally, it drops off its hinges and to the ground with a loud CLANK! Strangler looks down and smiles, before the smile is suddenly replaced with a frantic, crazed look.

“NO! NO NO NO! I can’t do that! NO VIOLENCE! I enjoyed that! The old Strangler enjoyed that! NOT ME! NOT ME! There cannot be violence for the sake of violence! I destroyed a man with pure violence last year, and look where it got me now. No. I cannot fight. It is that simple. No matter what Erek does, I cannot EVER fight him…EVER. Because if I do…I’ll live to regret it.”

Strangler sits down in his chair again, lowers his head into his hands, and after a moment, a noise like sobbing fills the room. Between sharp intakes of breath, Strangler mutters to himself in an uncharacteristically high, emotional voice: “Goddamn you, Erek Taylor! GODDAMN YOU!”

Strangler is too engrossed in his own self-pity to notice a man go slinking past the room, dressed totally in black, and disappear around the corner. The man slips past the restrooms, and turns into a locker room. He quickly closes the door, and turns around, revealing the grinning, malevolent face of Erek Taylor. He reaches down into his pocket, and slides a small, miniature video camera out of his pocket, with his eyes burning with glee. He quickly presses a couple of buttons, and rewinds the tape before the image pops back up on the small little screen on the camcorder: Strangler pacing back and forth, screaming to himself, in his locker room. “I’m…I’m….I’m afraid. I’m afraid of Erek Taylor” mutters the small, pixilated image of Strangler on the video camera screen, prompting Erek Taylor to switch the camera off. Erek pulls out a tape recorder and with the flick of a finger, switches it on.

"Memo to self: Strangler is a nutjob and is now more scared than a hooker in Clinton's limo."

October 4, 2003

"Hollywood Squares" by the Dillinger Escape Plan with Mike Patton begins to throb over the sound system, the fans unsure of what is happening until Quiz leaps out onto the stage, tag title over his shoulder! The calmer John Duran steps out from backstage, tag title around his waist as the Sinner calmly walks down the ramp, following his slightly more rambunctious tag team partner as he calls for a microphone.

"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to another Quiz show," Quiz shouts to the crowd. "Tonight there are NO contestants, because Quiz gets a break! For those of you that don't know why, Quiz and Show, Tag Team champions, defeated Dante Crane and Crow in a vicious American Gladiators match at Genesis IV."

Quiz pauses as the crowd begins to boo, but as the jeering dies down he continues. "Well, I woke up Monday morning to find a message on my machine -- Quiz, survey says I'm out for a while, love, Show. Well, what was I supposed to do? I talked to my good friend Mr. Slam, and he told me that if I could find a replacement for Show as tag partner, then the tag belts would remain in my hands."

"And guess what? I had the good fortune to run into John Duran, so ladies and gentlemen, your ESS-DOUBLEYOU-EFF TAG TEAM CHAMPIONS, Quiz and "The Sinner" John Duran, SIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIN-QUIIIIII-"

Quiz is cut off, however, as the lights dim... and then come back on.

“Argh!” he gestures. “Technical problems during MY ring time! For the love of...” he inhales, and continues... “SIIIIIIIIIIN-QUIIIIIIIIZZZZIIIIITION!”

And the lights go black again. Quiz’s screams of anger are suddenly cut off, as the sound system goes to complete silence. In the ring, he can be heard screaming and bellyaching on, and Duran scans the rinngside area for possible threats.

“What’s going on, Comet? You know a thing or two about dramatic entrances. It seems they always start with the lights going out...”

“Right, right... and then some voice-over starts, through the PA...”

Comet has it down cold, and indeed, the voice comes...

“All men have a destiny in life.”

“A fate.”

“Something that they are bound to, that they cannot shake off.”

“Some men try to run. Some men face it dead on the eye.”

The crowd starts to buzz.

“There are those who challenge fate. Many lose, and are bound to its serprentine will.”

“But for those who would dare, and those who would give it all, they can set their own destinites.”

“Tonight, two men have set their own destiny.”

Then there is a dramatic pause, and one could imagine the person behind it taking a deep breath...

“And that destiny is to dance.... Dance.... DANCE!”

“B4U” by Naoki Kameda kicks up, and most would instantly recognize it as a legendary Dance Dance Revolution anthem. Wait...

“Wait... Dance Dance Revolution... song...” says Riley. “Could it be?”

Two men, dressed in colorful, garish costumes have emerged, spinning and thrashing with the music. Even before the spotlight illuminates them, their silhouettes can be seen. One is wearing a mask... and one has strap pants.

“That’s Thoth! It’s... it’s the Bemani Cross Wizards!” sputters Cyclone Comet. “The man in the mask must be Ced Ordonez!”

Indeed, he takes the mask off for a brief period of time. Sin-Quzition, in the ring, surrounded by colored flashing strobe lights, are dumb-struck, completely unexpectant that their interview time would be interrupted. Both flashy, flamboyant men enter the ring, the lights still blazing, flickering. Both cut a quit 4-step dance move.

“The last time we saw Thoth, he was a big ball of hate. What made him change his heart?”

The lights come back on, and Ced grabs the microphone. He inhales.

“Ladies and gentlemen... show me your performance!”

The crowd cheers, as Ced nods his head. “Quiz and Duran. Sin-Quizition. Oh, if only that monkey Show were here. I’m sitting at home, feeling the groove when I get a call from Thoth here. Asks me if I want to take on the tag champs, Double Jeopardy. I flip to the SWF and, you made me sad, guys! You have no rhythm, and you guys dress like tools.”

Good pop for the last remark, Quiz grabs the mic in anger, but Duran wants to speak.

“Listen, you two clowns. You have no business here in the ring... I don’t know how you got in, but we can sure as hell throw you out of it!”

Thoth leans over, and slowly takes the mic out of Druan’s hand. In his eyes, Duran sees a flicker of the old Balancer, and does not try to fight him. Thoth starts to speak.

“You could throw us out, but like a good bar hop, we’d fly right back in, and hit a perfect step on both your asses!” Another pop.

“Goddamn, Comet. I cannot understand a word these two are saying. Was that some kind of insult? Stupid candy ravers.”

Quiz cocks his head quizzically.

“I’ll tell you what, quizzicians. It won’t be tonight, but it will be soon, that the Bemani Cross Wizards will strive for the Triple-A all over your sorry behinds,” says Ced. “Until that time comes, just know that... we’ll be around.”

“Marvelous,” adds Thoth, before B4U kicks up. The rhythmic pair boogie it all the way up the ramp before the fade to commercial.

October 4, 2003

As we return from commercial break, we are treated to a nice tight shot of the ring with Funyon in its center. He stands idly by, waiting for his own cue from the production truck. Silence reigns for about 3 seconds before Riley clears his throat and begins to speak...

"Sorry folks, I'm being told-"

ALL ABOARD! AH HAH HAH HAH!!

The opening riffs of "Crazy Train" rock through the arena as the crowd responds in typical Pavlovian fashion to the tunage of the fed's once-biggest heel!

With sadistic glee, Funyon says his schpiel, "Now approaching the ring, the FORMER commissioner of the SWF, THE FORMER all-powerful dictator of our lives, and a person who FORMERLY mattered here... the SUICIDE KING!"

The man himself appears through the parted curtains, neither striding nor grinning like his usual self. His normal wall of crimson pyro does not light up the arena, and he does not pose cockily as he is wont to do. Instead, with a demeanor that can best be described as "moping," the Gambling Man walks quickly to the ring while sparing a glare for the ring announcer's cheap shots. King rolls under the ropes and gets to his feet, trying to do his best to ignore the volley of heat and mockery levelled toward him from the capactiy audience. Funyon tosses the former commish the mike and moves to exit the ring through the ropes. King catches the stick ably, and seeing the chance for one petty bit of revenge he dashes across the ring and plants a Gucci loafer on Funyon's ass, kicking him to the floor! That bit of insignificant villainy almost brings a smile to the King's face, but as the crowd responds his face falls again. Funyon rubs his derriere as King gathers his composure and begins to speak.

"Right. I'm gonna say this once, and once only. For all you non-talent bastards in the back, you production guys, you techies, and you ring-assemblers, I'm gonna remind you that while I may not be commish anymore, I still OWN TWENTY FIVE PERCENT OF YOUR ASSES. Next person who makes a snide joke at my expense is gonna have his house foreclosed on. Got me? Mark's in charge, but he won't be able to go to bat for every one of you."

King paces the ring in a circle, gesturing powerfully and clearly showing that he has thought long and hard over what he has to say tonight. "Right. Denizens of New Jersey! I propose a temporary truce. You try to hold your tongues from silly booing and "NaNa Na Na" songs, and I will try not to refer to you all as the odd-smelling concrete-swaddling turnpike monkeys that you are."

Needless to say, this does not have the desired effect.

"I suppose I shouldn't have expected more than you could deliver." King sighs, looking somewhat forlorn. "Anyway, I have been working for a long, long time to better this company." BOOO! "I've been making the hard decisions, and sometimes that has cost people jobs." BOO! "Ah goddammit people, this is hard enough! Just shut up already! I know none of you believe me!" King paces around some more as he waits for the heat to die down. "Fine. You people don't deserve me anyway! What will you do without me? HUH? Who will you root against? Who will you build up to take me down? NO ONE, that's who! You monkeys just don't get it! You don't want someone to cheer! You want someone to villify! You want someone you can point to and say, 'That person is bad!' Well, screw the lot of you! I don't have time to play those games anymore! You people need me way more than I need you! GRAGGHHAGH!" King loses his composure for just a moment, letting his frustration through.

"You people are lemmings. Without me, this fed will FOLD. You just wait. Without some Devil to fear, your precious heroes will lose all motivation until they become the one thing you don't want them to ever be."

King spins around, getting directly in the camera's eyes.

"ME! And when everyone has lost all their precious morality and ethics, people are gonna switch off those TVs! Why? Because no one will want to watch a program that reminds them that everyone they know, including themselves, is just another manipulative bastard looking for his chance to screw you over!"

"So you enjoy the fed, Mark. You enjoy making the hard decisions that will make everyone turn against you. You have a fucking blast as you try to balance having a life with having a successful wrestling enterprise. In two months' time, you'll be BEGGING for me to take the reigns of power from you, so that you can be all the wrestlers' 'friends' again. But you know what? Maybe I won't take them. Maybe I'll watch you twist in the wind as all the people you thought respected you plot behind your back to bring you down!"

King actually smiles after that, a smile of relief as if he has said what he needed to.

"And where will I be? Hell, I can come and go as I please. I own more of this fed that anyone else who gives a damn. And right now, I am going to do what I should have a long time ago. I'm gonna go to a town that appreciates shady dealing, fast money, and gambling for everything. I'm gonna go to a town that is everything Atlantic City-" Cheers! -"should be!" Boos! I'm going to Vegas! But I'll be watching your every move Mark, and I WILL be back. Maybe I'll come back to take the fed that I made a success. Or maybe I'll come back to laugh. Or maybe, just maybe, I'll come back to shake your hand, because you will finally understand what I learned as Commish. There's no such thing as friendship."

King stares into the camera.

"There's only money."

"Sayonara, you stupid sentimental bitches."

With that King throws down the microphone and storms up the entry ramp. As he turns one last time to regard the crowd from the stage, a super-sized soda arcs artistically through theair and smashes all over the front of the Suicide King's suit! King doesn't look angry or hurt... he just looks disgusted. And the last image of the Suicide King that will be shown on SWF monitors for long time is His Majest himself flashing a middle finger toward the fans, and mouthing a very distinct "Fucking ingrates."

And Fade.

Edited October 4, 2003 by Suicide King

October 4, 2003

Right! That was the promo show! Thanks to everyone who did stuff, and lots of good stuff in here tonight so I would recommend you all take a read! A card will be up shortly with lots of oogie unexpected goodness, rest assured!

PROMO STORM SHOW NOW!

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