SWF Storm - October 18th!

[the.weej 0]

Earlier today…

 

Mark Stevens sits at his desk, shuffling through the paperwork to be done before tonight’s SWF Storm goes live. His cane leans next to him against the desk, a reminder of the trouble brought to the league by the twin reigns of terror by Bastion and Va’aiga. Suddenly, Grand Slam hears a knock at the door. “Come on in,” he shouts.

 

Tom Flesher walks in, wearing his white polo shirt and jeans with the SWF World Title belt strapped around his waist. Tom, obviously stressed, stands in front of the table.

 

“Tom, go ahead and have a seat,” says Stevens. “I just need to finish finalizing the dark matches for tonight, and…”

 

“About the card, Mark.” Flesher’s voice is sharper than he intends it to be, and it’s clear that he’s very unhappy.

 

Stevens looks up. “Is there a problem, Tom?”

 

“What’s the deal, Grand Slam? I haven’t had a night off in weeks. I beat Strangler, wrestled a tag match, beat Judge at Genesis, drew Strangler when I fought Taylor off and beat Dace. Now you schedule me against Taylor?”

 

“Well, Tom, I have to do what’s in the best interests of the federation…”

 

“It’s in the best interest of the SWF to have a champion who’s beat to death? Mark, I don’t think you can understand. I can barely move right now. I need a night off.”

 

Mark raises an eyebrow. “Oh, and tonight would make a good night off?”

 

“Well,” says Flesher with a shrug, “Taylor hasn’t really done anything to earn a title shot. He lost to X, and then to X and Strangler in a tag match…”

 

Grand Slam scowls. “Tom, just shut your mouth. I know where this is going, so you might as well leave right now.”

 

“What?”

 

“I saw the way you sucked up to King. Sure, maybe it wasn’t much use back when he was the deputy commissioner, but once Stubby was out the door, you had it made.”

 

“Mark, I – ”

 

“Save your breath, Flesher. There’s no way I’m going to give you the breaks that King did, and I’m pretty damn insulted that you’d want me to. With all the crap going on today with Va’aiga, and with everything going on with Wildchild, you want to come in here and get on my good side? Get out of my office. Just go!”

 

Flesher’s brow knots up into a glare. “Seriously, Mark, I’m a different person now. Yeah, I abused Brian’s power, but I’ve changed… and you still want to punish me for something I did months ago? What the hell kind of fair and impartial commissioner is that?”

 

“Fool me once, Tom. King fooled me, and you’re just like him. Tom, you can’t blame me for not wanting to take a risk on you. You’re the same person he was, and now you want me to stick my neck out? No way.”

 

“I’m NOT Brian Applewhite! I’m not going to do the same thing he did to you! Why won’t you believe me?”

 

“Why would I? You waltz in here trying to get out of a match you’re scared to lose, and you expect me to believe you’re serious? Tom, give me some credit.”

 

Flesher scowls. “Whatever, Mark. Whatever.” He turns around, still agitated, and walks out of the office.

[the.weej 0]

The arena drops to darkness, as Va'aiga's shadow appears in the entranceway, and Va'aiga appears in shadow, wearing a hooded black boxer's robe, with silver trim and the silver fern of New Zealand on the back. As Va'aiga's music starts with the quote "WHAT'S MY NAME?!" the bassline of "Bring The Pain" by Method Man fires up, but instead of the usual lyrics of Method Man, the ancient New Zealand war chant - the "Haka Te Ra" plays over the top.

 

Ka mate, Ka mate! Ka ora, Ka ora!

Ka mate, Ka mate! Ka ora, Ka ora!

Tenei te tangata puhuruhuru

Nana i tiki mai whakawhiti te ra!

A hupane, kaupane

A hupane, kaupane whiti te ra!

Hi!

 

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 the Maoris performing their traditional war dance, cut with some of his biggest in ring hits - Hitting the Va'aiga Stinger on Dace Night, Maori Dropping Jay Dawg onto a flaming section of canvas, flipping Quiz like a pancake with the Lariat, Camel Clutching Jay Dawg with a bent golf club, Maori Dropping CIA through the windshield of the Mag 7 limo, shouting right in Bastion's face, holding up both the Tag and Hardcore Gamers belts after the tag title win, Maori Dropping Ejiro as time expires at Genesis IV... Inside the ring Va'aiga throws off his robe and leans over the ropes, looking out into the crowd and screaming the final Hi! of the Haka (with his tongue hanging out in true Maori style)

 

Riley: What an entrance!

 

Comet: It’s certainly very… striking. The new look Va’aiga with the tattoos is certainly a frightening sight.

 

Riley: Some people win the mental battle by out thinking their opponents. Va’aiga just intimidates them, and you’d be hard pressed to find a more intimidating sight in professional wrestling today.

 

Va’aiga grabs Funyon’s mic off him forcefully and the Australian ring announcer backs off with GREAT speed as Va’aiga snaps at him. Va’aiga flexes his shoulder muscles and addresses the madly booing crowd.

 

Va’aiga: What? You don’t like the Maori when he decided to be true to himself for a change?

 

The crowd’s booing gets louder, with a few catcalls, and Va’aiga scowls at them and remains silent until they die down.

 

Va’aiga: See smacking down Dace Night with the Stinger. That was the biggest step I’ve taken in my career. I got nothing against Dace Night. He’s watched my back, when it’s needed watching. And that hasn’t been very often, but the thought was there. But I needed to be my own man. I needed to make a statement.

 

Comet: Va’aiga made a statement alright.

 

Riley: And dropping Dace on his head ensured it had THREE exclamation points.

 

Comet: Lets take you back to last week.

 

Va’aiga steps over to Dace Night and smiles, then turns to the crowd and grabs Dace’s arm, lifting it high into the air, to a massive cheer. Va’aiga and Dace turn and pose, Dace still breathing heavily from his title match. Va’aiga turns to Dace and….wrenches Dace’s arm back across his own throat!

 

Comet: What’s this???

 

Va’aiga ducks and steps forward, Torture Racking Dace across the back of his massive Maori shoulders and holding him there, Dace’s arm still locked over his own throat. Va’aiga jumps a little and falls to his side, dropping the Horrorcore One STRAIGHT DOWN, FROM OVER SIX FOOT UP VERTICALLY ONTO THE TOP OF HIS HEAD! The crowd is split between duelling “HOLY SHIT!” chants and a massive stadium wide round of boos.

 

Comet: What the heck?

 

Va’aiga knees over Dace, laid out on the canvas, and screams down into the semi conscious face of the Birmingham native…

 

Va’aiga: WHAT’S MY NAME? WHAT’S MY NAME? WHAT’S MY MOTHERFUCKIN’ NAME?

 

The shot cuts back to Va’aiga, composing himself in the ring as the crowd boos him.

 

Va’aiga: What’s this brother meant to do? Sit around and do what I’m told? Wait for Danny Williams to decide I’m no longer needed when he controls the world title through the Trinity? Wait for Grand Slam to run out of people for me to hurt on his behalf? I’m not gonna sit and take that. I’m not gonna sit around and be somebody’s bitch. Who do you think I am? Wildchild? It’s guys like Bastion I respect, at least he stood in my face. He never stabbed me in the back, he just kicked my damn ass and I RESPECT of him for it.

 

The crowd boos vehemently, as the odd mix of sympathy for his situation with Justice and Rule and respect for his amazing achievements makes Wildchild one of the SWF’s most popular stars.

 

Va’aiga: See Danny Williams. Our glorious leader. The man who took the Unholy Trinity to the great heights of success. BULL-SHIT! Danny Williams was never there for the Maori. Danny Williams expected this brother to go out there and win titles IN HIS NAME. Danny Williams would take the glory of me and Dace and twist it into his own gain. Enhance his own rep. Dace Night might just have needed dropping on his head to wake him from Deathwish and his lies. But I ain’t taking that shit no more. I’m gonna be me. I’m being big, bad and GOD DAMN scary, and if you get in my way, I’ll drop your ass down to canvas or concrete as soon as say Kia Ora.

 

Riley: I always knew Danny Williams was screwing over Dace and Va’aiga.

 

Comet: That’s bovine excreta, Robert! Danny Williams has always look ed out for the other members of the Trinity.

 

Va’aiga: See these tattoos? The te Moko on my face? THIS is the real Va’aiga. This is my history. My heritage. Who I am. I said before I’m nobody’s errand boy. I’m turning up, I’m kicking ass like I always did, but I’m not doing it for you people. You forget who I am the second I leave your sight. I beat down the monster Bastion, and all you talk about is Dace Night’s title shot. I end Silent’s career and all you talk about is how good Tom Flesher has been lately. What about the Maori? Who am I to you?

 

The crowd starts a “VA-ING-UH” chant, cut adding a fourth “SUCKS!” Syllable to the familiar call!

 

Va’aiga: See now I’m here you know my name. But I promise. I GOD DAMN promise, that I am never, EVER gonna let any one of you forget it.

 

Va’aiga pauses for a brief second, and then finishes with a flourish and a low guttural growl…

 

Va’aiga: Boo-yah!

[the.weej 0]

The camera fades from the view of the man in the ring, shifting instead to the ever zealous duo at ringside, Riley looking gleeful while Comet looks pensieve. “Citizens, we’ve just heard from Va’aiga, who had some very interesting things to say. I wonder, where will this lead for the angry, physically intimidating Maori in the near future?”

 

“I don’t know, Comet, but you can bet he won’t be kissing the fan’s asses anymore. No more pandering, cheer whorish, crowd reaction getting crap from him. A little more of that shameless pandering has left the SWF, and I couldn’t be happi…..”

 

“Can’t stop, addicted to the shindig!”

 

“Aw, FUCK.”

 

“Language, Robert.”

 

A massive flash of red light bathes the crowd as lights burst into luminescence along the stage, blinding the vision for a single moment. When everything becomes clear moments later, a single man stands in the center of the stage, arms out to his sides, smiling face looking down towards the ring.

 

“And it’s CIA, Robert. We havn’t seen this individual in quite some time. In fact, one of the last big matches he was involved in was his loss of the Hardcore title to Va’aiga. I wonder just what this courageous Canadian has to say?”

 

“Corageous? Every time he gets seriously beaten, this punk runs off, only to come back what, two months later, annoy me for a while, lather, rinse, repeat.”

 

CIA smiles, on stage, as the lights, and his music, die down, and he reaches into his hoodie, pulling out a microphone, and turning towards Va’aiga, glaring down the ramp towards the intimidating tribesman.

 

“Alright, people, let me cut this short, cause I don’t want this to become some big fuss. I just wanted to come out here and say that you there in the ring, big man, would you please stop whining, eh? I mean, every frickin’ time some big jackass decides noone appreciates him, he gets up on stage, and he moans about how he’s the biggest, and the baddest.”

 

Walking back and forth along the stage, CIA looks up towards the crowd, and gives a soft chuckl. “Well, hell, big man, you’ve beat me before, but let’s come right out and say it. You want to show how bad you are? Well, I’m back, and I want you in that ring. Lockdown. Think about it, eh, big man? Cause I would do just about anything to not have to hear you whining anymore. So I’m gonna go to the backstage, find myself some beer and hang out with a few wrestlers who DON’T cry like three year olds, eh?”

 

In the ring, Va’aiga raises his microphone to respond, but CIA raises his hand to halt him, and raises his own microphone. “No, no, I don’t need to hear it, none of that… “I wasted you before little man, I’ll destroy you, anywhere, anytime! I need attention cause I don’t get enough love in my life and women reject me! Boo-yah! Just talk to the bookers, eh?”

 

Smiling, CIA makes his way back to the backstage to a loud rain of cheers, leaving Va’aiga to fume in the middle of the ring.

 

“Amazing, Robert. CIA returns, like a whirlwind, and, without letting Va’aiga get a word in edgewise, he challenges him for a match on Lockdown. Will we see these two men lock up?”

 

“I hope so. Cause then maybe Va’aiga will take CIA out for another few months.”

 

“An exciting development, Citizens, and who knows what will happen with both these individuals bringing their all to the SWF. Stay tuned for all the exciting action!”

[the.weej 0]

Card:

 

Singles Match

The Boston Strangler v. Xero

Strangler may have won his last match thanks to X, who was graciously given the night off by the Commish, but it's clear that his head isn't in the game. Well, the last thing anyone needs is a gigantic fraidy cat, so let's see if a match against the WF's perennial whipping boy can help!

 

Singles Match

Thoth v. Jay Dawg

Ced Ordonez took a couple of nast bumps at the last show, but his partner is more or less unscathed after their encounter with Justice and Rule. Thoth wants to keep fresh while his partner recuperates, so let's put the DDR freak in there against the S&M freak!

 

Tag Team Title Match

Sinquizition v. Justice and Rule

The time has come. Sinquizition KNOWS that as long as JnR is out there without a title shot that there will be questions. Big, annoying questions. Like, "Wouldn't JnR cream your bitch asses?" Well, Sinquizition is no paper champion duo, my friends, and they are going to take it to the combo of Judge and Ejiro HARD. Whoever wins tonight will be the undisputed tag champions.

 

ICTV Title Singles Match

"The Sacred One" Andrew Blackwell v. Dace Night

Dace came up inches short in his quest for the World Title, and then suffered the ultimate indignity as his longtime tag partner appeared to turn on him after the match! Stevens wasn't about to let that sort of performance go unrewarded, and as a result Dace has another title shot, this time at the Sacred One! Can Dace pull it together to win the second most prestigious belt in the fed, or will Blackwell dash out his hopes? And what role will Va'aiga play in all of this...?

 

Main Event

The SWF World Heavyweight Championship

Singles Match

"The Superior One" Tom Flesher © v. Erek Taylor

For the third show in a row, Tom Flesher defends! But this time the Commissioner himself is testing Tom's mettle. Mark Stevens is as of yet unconvinced that the leopard has really and for truly changed his spots. It's easy not to cheat against people who won't cheat against you. But will Tom keep the same "virtue" when he goes up against someone without the same ethics? Some would say Taylor doesn't deserve a title shot so soon, and maybe some people would be right. But Stevens needs a devil, and Taylor will have to do. The Boston Strangler has problems of his own with the High-Flying Prince however, and it's curious to see if anything results of that.

[the.weej 0]

The Garrett Center in Montgomery, Alabama is alive and kicking as SWF Storm returns from a commercial break. The crowd is alive and kicking, and still thinking about what transpired with Va’aiga at the top of the show. Xero is already waiting in the ring, not even receiving a televised entrance, as he waits with Eddy Long. Suddenly, “Godzilla” kicks up over the speaker system, and the fans explode as the Boston Strangler comes striding through a massive burst of pyro that covers the entire stage. The pyro dies down as Strangler reaches the top of the ramp, and plays briefly to the crowd before descending down towards the ring. While Funyon introduces Strangler in the background, Comet and Bobby Riley cut in for the first time since the return from commercial.

 

“Welcome back to SWF Storm! Comet, this first match is almost ready to get going, as the Boston Strangler is preparing to take on Xero, in an obvious attempt by Grand Slam Mark Stevens to reinvigorate the slumping Strangler!”

 

“Robert, you are close to correct here. Strangler is most certainly in a mental funk, and I’m sure Mark Stevens would like to see him reclaim his killer instinct. I feel that tonight should be a good way for Strangler to shake the rust off and get back into his top condition.”

 

“I’m not feeling it, Comet. Strangler’s totally psyched out by Taylor and his antics. And even if Strangler does pull off a win, it doesn’t mean anything. Strangler’s never gonna fight Erek Taylor. He’s a loser, and he’s never gonna face his past and his fears.”

 

“How can you side with Erek Taylor here, Robert? The man has harassed Strangler mercilessly, attacked him, and Strangler cannot fight back! This is horrendous behavior by Citizen Taylor!”

 

“Strangler RETIRED Erek! He’s totally justified in doing this! What’s a little beating? Strangler nearly cost Erek his goddamn CAREER!”

 

“Well, Robert, you and I must, once again, agree to disagree. Now, this match is ready to get underway. Here we go, ladies and gentlemen!”

 

DING DING DING!

 

Strangler and Xero quickly lock up, and the much stronger Strangler quickly shoves Xero backwards. Xero charges forwards and meets a brutal lariat from Strangler, which flattens him. Xero pushes himself off the mat, but Strangler charges forward and crashes into Xero shoulder-first. The maneuver slams Xero back to the mat, where he’s slow to get up. The crowd, still excited, is getting behind Strangler as Xero finally gets up into a standing position. Strangler grabs Xero by the forearm, and whips him into the corner. Xero crashes into the turnbuckle, and Strangler charges forward and gives him another clothesline. Xero comes stumbling out of the corner, and Strangler bends over before giving him a back body drop, taking Xero back to the canvas once again. This time, Xero takes his time, resting on the canvas for a few seconds to catch his breath.

 

“This is shades of the old Strangler, Robert! He has come out firing on all cylinders, and he’s looking like he’s ready to get past his demons!”

 

Strangler takes the offensive, with signs of a grin on his face, as he scoops Xero up off the ground. He backs Xero into a corner, and starts slamming away at Xero, throwing punch after punch into Xero’s chest. Xero recoils from each punch before going flying back against the turnbuckle from Strangler’s final uppercut. Xero comes flailing out of the corner once again, totally helpless from Strangler’s attack, and Strangler slaps his hand across Xero’s throat, to a huge cheer from the crowd. “This could be all she wrote right here, Robert! Chokeslam time!” Comet is right on the money, as Strangler effortlessly lifts Xero before planting him to the canvas with a thunderous chokeslam, which triggers a massive avalanche of cheers. Xero is flat on his back on the canvas, looking totally dazed, and Strangler pauses for a moment, reveling in the cheers. Suddenly, the cheers turn to a massive round of boos, which sends Strangler whirling around to face the entrance ramp with a fearful look on his face.

 

“He’s finally learning, Comet. Erek time!”

 

“Oh my…I fear that Strangler may have walked right into Erek’s trap…”

 

As Strangler searches for Erek sprinting down the ramp, Erek Taylor slides into the ring from the crowd behind him, with a steel chair in his hand. He raises it, and brings it down on the back of Strangler’s head, which sends TBS toppling forward into the ropes. Strangler bounces back off it, and Erek follows with another similarly-placed shot that drops TBS straight to the ground. Finally, Eddy Long calls for the bell, ending the travesty of a match (seems like no effort was put into it at ALL…) and triggering even more boos from the crowd.

 

“ER-EK SUCKS!”

 

“ER-EK SUCKS!”

 

“ER-EK SUCKS!”

 

Erek shrugs off the boos and slides out of the ring as “Godzilla” plays to signify Strangler’s DQ ‘victory’. Taylor tosses his chair off the ramp into the crowd, and taunts Strangler as he paces up the ramp before disappearing.

 

“Well, Comet, that’s not the last we’ll see of Erek tonight. He’s still got a shot at the WORLD TITLE. Stay tuned!”

[the.weej 0]

Commissioner Stevens’ office. The organized chaos of paperwork stacks up on the desk as the former champion, now SWF Executive Official Grand Slam sits behind it, looking longingly at a picture of his wife and child. He’d always thought time on the road was a bummer, but now it was worse. Now this job might as well be his life.

 

Rap… Rap, Rap Rap, Rap… Rap, Rap

 

A familiar and rhythmic knock, and Mark looks up. He palms a wooden Louisville Slugger under his desk as he prepares for whoever might enter. You never know in this business.

 

-Stevens “Come in.”

 

The swagger of a shorter man, head adorned with thin, long dreadlocks, immediately sets Grand Slam at ease.

 

-Xstasy “’Sup Mr. Commish?”

 

Mark smiles, letting go of the bat, for once certain that this worker doesn’t want to bash his head in, or break his knee off, or crack his back in half, or… try in any other way to injure his person. Grand Slam waves his hand in a motion of presentation.

 

-Stevens “Pretty slick, huh Phoenix?”

 

-X “I am impressed, bud.”

 

The smaller man walks to the desk, and extends a hand, which is accepted, and then pulled close for a short one armed embrace, before Mark motions to one of the chairs.

 

-Stevens “Its good to see you, and to have you back, man. You know, for awhile I thought all of the pieces of what we built here were gone for good.”

 

Xstasy sits down, and smirks.

 

-X “Well, you’ve been here, holding down the fort…”

 

-Stevens “Yeah, but not in that ring. But I gotta tell you man, you’re lookin’ good out there. Hard to believe an old veteran like you still has it.”

 

-X “Old veteran? You’re forgetting that I’m only 19 years old!”

 

-Stevens “Oh, that’s right. Wait a minute. You were wrestling two years ago, weren’t you?”

 

-X “Let’s just say old Rane never bothered to check up on my Birth Certificate…”

 

-Stevens “Man I feel old…” He looks at the picture of his young son again before continuing. “Well, now that you’re here, I definitely feel my job’ll be a little easier.”

 

-X “I’m here for ya man, just let me know if there’s anything I can do… or any pink paisley beeyatches you want to feed me in the ring.”

 

-Stevens “You’re hungry. I know, and I’ll see what I can do. Man I’m swamped with all of this paperwork.” He gestures towards his desk. “How did Brian ever handle all of this?”

 

-X “With a paper shredder. And when things got worse… with an incinerator.” The Drug props his feet on the desk and rests his hands behind his head. “You didn’t think he was actually up on it all?”

 

-Stevens “To be honest, I thought he was.”

 

-X “You know King… you should be able to tell when he’s winging it.”

 

-Stevens “Heh… got me there, kid. Ya got me there.”

 

X sighs, then leans forward, planting his feet again. His face takes a somber turn.

 

-X “Anyway, Mark, you know why I’m here.”

 

-Stevens “I know. You’re not only hungry for jobbers to crush… you’re hungry for gold. And you know I’d give it to ya in a heartbeat, X, but I gotta be fair here. Some of the other guys don’t trust me enough as it is…”

 

-X “They all trust and respect you, man. And no, that’s not why I’m here.”

 

Mark pauses, and looks at his guest.

 

-Stevens “You don’t want a title?”

 

-X “Oh I DO want a title… THE title. But you know it’s not my style to ask for such things. No, no, I’ll wait until I’ve earned that.”

 

-Stevens “Oh… then… why ARE you here?”

 

-X “Two reasons. One: to see how an old friend is doing.”

 

-Stevens “Ah.”

 

-X “A REALLY old… ANCIENT friend…”

 

-Stevens “Ancient, huh? Well, when I see the guy that fits that description, I’ll let you know.”

 

-X “Check him out in the mirror, I’m sure you’ll find ‘im there.”

 

The two share a laugh as Stevens points.

 

-Stevens “Don’t push your luck, little man, even with this knee, I’ll still whoop your ass back to D.C.”

 

-X “Fair enough.”

 

-Stevens “And the second reason.”

 

Again, X’s mood turns somber. He places both hands on the desk, unable to make eye contact.

 

-X “Reason two… well… I was kinda wondering…”

 

-Stevens “What is it?”

 

-X “How’s Edwin?”

 

Mark sighs, understanding the undertones in the voice of the Drug. He nods.

 

-Stevens “I was hoping you’d tell me the same about Thugg.”

 

X looks up, and nods, as a long pause of silence echoes in the ears of the two friends. Grand Slam picks up the phone, and smiles reassuringly.

 

-Stevens “Ya know, as Commissioner and Figurehead of the SWF… I think its time we made some hospital calls!”

 

X returns the smile, and presses the speaker phone button as Mark leafs through a Rolodex. Finding what he was looking for, he begins to press the buttons, their tones sounding over the speakerphone as the camera fades to commercial. Some things, are just more important…

 

FIN

[the.weej 0]

Va’aiga is pacing around in the backstage area, still with the fixed expression of anger on his face after the Canadian Intelligence Agent stood up to him in the ring. Va’aiga growls a swear word in Ngata out under his breath, but his contemplation is broken by the lyrical Bahaman accent of the SWF’s Cruiserweight Hardcore Icon, the Wildchild.

 

Wildchild: What de hell were you doing calling me a bitch, man? You remember who took dis hardcore title off you?

 

Va’aiga: I’m talking straight. If it hurts. It’s your problem.

 

Wildchild: You want t'take a shot at me? Do it to my face.

 

Va’aiga: Fine…

 

And with that Va’aiga turns away from Wildchild for a half second, then turns back and with a snap of his neck muscles, connects his forehead solidly into the bridge of Wildchild’s nose. Wildchild staggers back towards the corridor’s wall, and Va’aiga CHARGES at him, shoulder first driving the young superstar into the wall, and driving his shoulder into Wildchild’s injured ribcage. Va’aiga draws back and spears the Bahaman Bomber repeatedly into the wall.

 

Comet: Oh my god! Va’aiga is attacking Wildchild backstage.

 

Riley: Wildchild called Va’aiga’s punk card. That’s REALLY not the brightest plan the Bahaman Bomber has ever come up with.

 

Comet: I don’t think the Maori is done yet.

 

Va’aiga grabs Wildchild with one arm and slings the cruiser across his chest effortlessly, extending his other arm out to give the thumbs down sign, as the arena explodes into boos. Va’aiga grabs a firm hold of Wildchild and walks him down to where a few members of the technical crew have stored some of the SWF’s equipment and jumps, MAORI DROPPING WILDCHILD ONTO A A FULL BOX OF CABLES!

 

Riley: The Maori Drop!

 

Comet: That was uncalled for.

 

Wildchild reels with the pain shooting right round his ribcage, from the impact of his back on the box, and the impact of the Maori Badass on him. Va’aiga leans over the limp looking Wildchild and holds his face no more than two inches above the Bahaman’s.

 

Va’aiga: WHAT’S MY NAME? WHAT’S MY NAME? WHAT’S MY NAME?

[the.weej 0]

As SWF Storm returns from commercial break, we see “Grand Slam” Mark Stevens, SWF Commissioner, looking over a list of several items attached to his clipboard. He is also surrounded by several assistants, asking each of them opinions on the items on the list, when suddenly...

 

“Mr. Stevens! Mr. Stevens!”

 

Stevens turns his attention to a man running down the hall, a piece of paper clenched in his hand. That man is none other than former SWF announcer and one of the members of Stevens’ new staff, Curry Man. He hustles down the hall, almost out of breath as he gets to the commissioner’s side.

 

“There’s... there’s someone... who wants... to see you...”

 

Mark turns around to see Curry, sending his assistants away for a second to conduct this important piece of business. Perhaps a former star from the past has decided to return... maybe to destroy the SWF. Or perhaps a spokesman has arrived from a company that wishes to add their sponsorship. Regardless, Stevens addresses Curry quickly.

 

“Well... where is he?”

 

Curry remains hunched over for a second, trying to catch his breath.

 

“That’s... the problem. He’s in your skybox.”

 

Stevens suddenly becomes both confused and angered, the latest twist in this still developing story.

 

“How the hell did he get into my skybox?”

 

“I have no idea, but he’s up there,” Curry promptly answers back. “I heard him, and when I asked him what he was doing up there, he said he had a meeting with you.”

 

Stevens looks befuddled. A meeting? He had no meetings with anyone today. Something doesn’t seem right, and Stevens quickly focuses on the problem.

 

“Who is it, Curry?”

 

“I... don’t know, sir...” Curry stammers, handing Stevens the paper in his hand, “but this was under the door. I figured you might want to see it.”

 

Stevens takes hold of the note and glances over it quickly, looking back up to see his faithful employee still standing there, waiting for an answer.

 

“Thank you, Curry,” Stevens says as he opens the note up. “You may leave.”

 

Curry nods and backs off-camera, leaving Mark alone to read the note left under the skybox. He thoroughly reads it, reading each word with intent, then as he finishes, looks up from the note, looking out into the distance.

 

“God dammit.”

[the.weej 0]

We return from commercial, and Jay Dawg is already in the ring!

 

"What the... when did he get there?" asks Riley.

 

"Oh dear," says Comet. "You know what this means? No televised entrance, no music... it means Jay Dawg has turned into a jobber!"

 

"What a surprise."

 

"B4U" starts to play, and Thoth appears from behind the curtain. "The following contest is scheduled for one fall!" announces Funyon. "Introducing first, weighing in at 245 pounds... one half of the Bemani Cross Wizards... THOTH!"

 

"And his opponent, in the ring already, Jay Dawg."

 

"Wow," remarks Riley, "that was fast." Thoth rolls into the ring, the bell rings, and the two lock up. Jay Dawg tries a hammerlock, but it’s quickly reversed. JD gets pushed into the ropes, and taken down with a leg lariat on the rebound.

 

"Thoth looks troubled... rumor has it that Ced Ordonez has had a family emergency, and is no longer able to compete in the SWF. Condolences to him and his family, and you have to wonder what will Thoth do from here?"

 

In the ring, Jay Dawg misses a hard right haymaker, and Thoth scoops him up, cradles him, Riot of the Blood. Pin, bell rings, music plays. Thoth hurries out the entryway as fast as he came in.

---

Backstage

---

In the locker room, a plain white envelope addressed only to "Thoth":

 

Dear Thoth,

 

Sorry I couldn’t make it today. Hope JD wasn’t too big of a problem. It’s true I have a family emergency, and must leave the SWF as quickly as I came here. I deeply aplogize, but I am left wondering just why it was that you wanted to reform the Bemani Cross Wizards. I was hoping to find out sooner or later, but it seems that circumstances and fate are cruel mistresses. I never questioned your motives though, even with your shady recent past. I dunno, I guess I just trust easily. But I have a feeling your intentions were just. Until we meet again, Thoth.

 

-Ced Ordonez

[the.weej 0]

SWF Storm returns from commercial break, and we once again see “Grand Slam” Mark Stevens, SWF Commissioner Extrordinare, but this time, he marches towards the commissioner’s skybox, trying to get there as fast as he can to take care of the situation.

 

“202... 203... there we are.”

 

As Stevens gets to the skybox, he reaches into his pocket, pulling out a small gold key. Inserting it in the lock, he quickly turns it, unlocking the door, and opens it, where he is confronted with a startling discovery.

 

“Good evening, Mr. Stevens...”

 

Michael Craven sits in a plush leather chair, hands folded, smiling, but Stevens senses something’s about to happen, and he doesn’t want to have any part of it. Reacting on fears, he leaps for the phone, but Craven jumps from his seat, grabbing the commish’s hand before it can grasp the phone and get a hold of SWF Security, crushing it with a hard grip. Stevens cries out in pain, trying to pull his and out of Craven’s much like a baby bear tries hopelessly to free its leg from a bear trap.

 

“Don’t even try. By the time they get here, security won’t have anything left to protect.”

 

Craven then shoves Stevens backwards by the arm he has grasped, knocking the commissioner to the ground before he unplugs the phone from the wall and tosses it carelessly to the floor. Stevens slowly rises to his feet, holding his injured hand as he inquires about how The King of Nightmares set him up.

 

“... How the hell did you get up here?”

 

The King of Nightmares smiles, enjoying every second of watching Stevens suffer. He enjoys seeing those who he despises suffer, and though he would love to attack Stevens right now, he knows better than to do so. Besides, it’s not his style.

 

“Oh, I have my little tricks,” an entertained Craven replies. “King taught me a lot, Stevens. More than you could ever imagine.”

 

The commissioner does not seem satisfied with what Craven has so far told him, as he has made no mention of his plans, and not trusting Craven, tries his best to fiugre out what he has planned.

 

“What do you want, Craven?”

 

Craven at first smirks, then chuckles, amused with Stevens’ demands.

 

“See that camera man over there? He’s here for a reason. But that’s not because I’m going to be stupid enough to tell you that reason.” He takes a deep breath and sighs. “No, no, Mr. Stevens. It’s not that easy.”

 

Stevens frowns, about to ask for a definitive answer of he’ll suspend Craven, but The King of Nightmares cuts him off, keeping him from asking such a question.

 

“You see, there’s a little saying I work by... I do what I want, when I want to do it. And to tell you the truth; what I want to say? It can wait.” He smiles. “You know why?”

 

Stevens looks on as Craven pauses for a second, perhaps waiting for a queston from Mark, but getting none, he continues.

 

“Because the greatest terror is not what’s going to happen, but the total fear beforehand, the suspense that tears your mind apart... that is the greatest terror.”

 

 

 

 

 

“Keep that on your mind, Mark.”

 

Craven pats Stevens on the shoulder, smirking as he leaves Stevens to try and think about what devilish plans The King of Nightmares has, exactly what Craven wants him to do...

[the.weej 0]

Walking through the bowels of the arena we find the current reigning United States Champion Ejiro Fasaki sucking down an extremely refreshing fruit juice much to the annoyance of the general populace. Chugging down the entire red liquid, Ejiro looks about himself for a moment as if to be assured that there is no one about to catch his latest exploits. Completely ignoring the camera man about five feet away from him, Ejiro puts the can to his head and crushes it against his forehead.

 

“Oh yeah!” cheers Ejiro as he tosses the can aside as though he had actually accomplished something. “And there is more of that waiting for Sinquizition! YEAH!”

 

“You’re such a nerd,” announces another voice from off camera.

 

Quickly turning to one side, Ejiro notices the form of Johnny Dangerous propped up against the wall. With a smoldering cigarette in between his teeth, the federal agent looks at the United States champion with two burning eyes. “Of course,” continues Dangerous, “you never were Elvis.”

 

“Yeah? And you were never a wrestler,” counters Fasaki his hackles up considering his storied history with the spy from when Ejiro thought the whole agent thing was all a gimmick. Suffice to say Rule didn’t like Dangerous then much less now.

 

“I know you have something to do with this whole deal, Fasaki.” says Johnny. “You and Judge setting me and Wildchild up to try and kill each other, just to save yourself some face.”

 

“Oh,” replies Ejiro with a grin. “You remember the last time you accused somebody of doing something. You really don’t want to go down that road again.”

 

“Well it’s a dangerous world you know, Fasaki? You never know what is out there waiting for you.”

 

“Well I know what isn’t, you. Considering YOU don’t work here anymore, I think I’ll go find some security and get you removed from the building.”

 

“Heh,” chuckles Dangerous. “Like you would even be able to find me in this big old building if I didn’t want to be found. Not that it matters considering my license to wrestle is still entirely valid.”

 

“That’s not what I heard.”

 

“What you hear and what is the fact are two different things.”

 

“Oh, did someone learn an after school special lesson?” giggles the United States Champion with a broad smile the size of Texas. “Did you learn a little something about trusting your friends? Not that you have any left for that matter.”

 

“No, but I did learn a little something about being there when your friends need you,” replies Johnny. “And my friend needs me.”

 

“What friends does a CIA spook like you have?”

 

“A friend you know quite well, you have been treating him like a slave for months now. And I am hear to tell you that its about to end,” replies the cold Dangerous.

 

“Oh are you going to ride in on your white horse and save poor little Wildchild? I find that highly dubious. Because you are in no way shape or form going to get that chance, I won’t let it happen.”

 

“Really? Funny, I seem to recall you making an open challenge a few weeks ago. I remember you saying that whoever took that United States Title away from you would have the rights to your protégé. I remember you saying it didn’t matter who made the challenge or when they made it! Well, Ejiro I am making that challenge RIGHT HERE for next week! You and me one on one for that belt and for the freedom of my friend! And since Mark Stevens has already given me the okay, you don’t even have a choice in the matter. So I’ll see you next week… but you might not see me.”

 

Walking off screen, Johnny leaves a flustered Ejiro Fasaki standing there with his little crushed can of juice in hand. Finally figuring out what to do with himself, Ejiro tosses the can in the direction that ‘The Barracuda’ exited. Shouting at the top of his lungs, Fasaki rants.

 

“You know what you piece of crap! You can’t beat me! You can’t do anything right! I’ll break you in half! I’ll make you cry like a girl! Like a tiny little girl! And you know why? BECAUSE I’M BETTER THAN YOUUUUUUUUUUUUU!”

 

With that Ejiro stalks off in the opposite direction as the camera’s vision fades out…

[the.weej 0]

The back of the Garrett Coliseum is quiet, as most of the people are either preparing or recovering from their night’s work. One man, however, is plodding along, huffing and puffing as he does every reporter’s duty, trying to break the big story of the night.

 

“This is Ben Hardy,” he says, turning around to walk backwards as he approaches the locker room. “Earlier tonight, we saw the conflict between SWF World Champion Tom Flesher and the federation’s commissioner, ‘Grand Slam’ Mark Stevens. Tom Flesher, it seems, feels that Mark Stevens is running him down with a deadly schedule, and brought that to the commissioner’s attention. The commissioner saw through what was, in all fairness, a very thinly-veiled plot to get a night off. Now, we’ll attempt to get Flesher’s side of the story.”

 

Hardy turns around, rapping on the door marked “FLESHER.”

 

From the inside comes a shout. “Go away.”

 

“Tom, it’s Ben Hardy. We’d like to get a few words with –”

 

“Ben, go away.”

 

“Are you sure you wouldn’t like to offer a comment on –”

 

The door opens a crack, and Tom Flesher sticks half his body out. “Yes, Ben. I’m absolutely certain that I wouldn’t like to offer a comment on the fact that Grand Slam is going out of his way to make my life miserable because of an association that I had before. I’m sure that I don’t want to tell you that this obvious attempt to grind away my morale is making my life difficult, and especially that booking me against men with such different styles is making training VERY difficult.”

 

“But Tom, don’t –”

 

“Furthermore, Ben, I want to make absolutely certain that I don’t comment on the fact that Mark Stevens needs to calm the hell down and realize that not everyone’s out to get him. He needs to build up some god damn trust.”

 

Hardy opens his mouth to say something, but Flesher cuts him off a final time.

 

“Mark will figure out sooner or later that he needs to trust me, and that, my friends, is a damn promise.”

 

Flesher shuts the door. Hardy shrugs and looks at Gus. “Is he going to keep that promise, or is Mark Stevens right? Is Flesher simply a cheating, catch-phrase stealing weasel? Find out, later tonight!”

[the.weej 0]

*DING DING DING*

 

“The following match is for the TAG TEAM TITLES and is scheduled for ONE FALL!” booms Funyon was we return back from commercial. The people present give a mixed reaction as they know who is involved, but they know what is on the line as well.

 

“Welcome back to SWF Smarkdown, good citizens,” chimes in Comet, “Right in time for a Tag Team title match up!”

 

“Yep, a great matchup as well! We have Sinquizition, a pair of upstarts tearing up the Tag Division as champs, and the legendary duo of Justice and Rule!”

 

“We can only hope that the title can survive such a soiling to it’s honorable name.”

 

“Oh stop moping,” responds Riley, rolling his eyes back, “We are gonna have one hell of a match. Who do you think is gonna win this one?”

 

“All I know is who is going to lose: The fans…”

 

JUSTICE!

 

RULE!

 

*POPPOPPOPPOPPOPPOPPOPPOPPOPPOPPOPPOPPOP*

 

The discordant guitar melody of “Sleep Now in the Fire” by Rage Against the Machine as the infamous tag team duo enters in from stage right. The pyros die down as the two come down, dawning their familiar Football Jersey once again. A few in the crowd get an insult or two for being too loud as the former Tag Team Champions walk down and enter the ring.

 

“Now entering the ring, the challengers. Weighing in at a combined weight of 454 pounds, they are hold the record for the longest continuous Tag Title reign in SWF History… they are JUSTICE! AND! RUUUUUUUUUUUUUUULE!”

 

They walk over to opposite turnbuckles and climb up, posing with their arms in the air and taking in the boos from the irate crowd. Jumping back down, the pair walks over to their corner smirking and discussing a plan of attack.

 

“Justice and Rule looking overconfident as always,” remarks Comet, “For a team that has only had one match in maybe two months, they should be a bit more watchful of this pair.”

 

“I know I’d be confident if I were in their spot. These two are one of those teams that just blend together like they were never left the tag scene.”

 

Dillinger Escape Plan’s “Hollywood Squares” fires up as a Jeopardy-like board fades in on the Smarktron as Quiz bounces out from behind the curtain to a strophe of jeers from the crowd. He bounces out to the middle of the stage, where he brings up a microphone to his mouth.

 

“Welcome to the new hit Quiz show, Sinquizition! Tonight our guest is the reigning champion of Sinquizition, JOHN DURAN!”

 

Out from Gorilla Position strides The Sinner in a slow, methodical step. Quiz gives a smile as the crowd continues to show their disrespect to the tag champs.

 

“Well, John, our categories for tonight are…”

 

“Justice”

 

*DING* And on the board a little “Justice” nametag is revealed as a category.

 

“Rule”

 

*DING*

 

“Magnificent Numbers”

 

*DING*

 

“Losers”

 

*DING*

 

“And as usual, Potpourri.”

 

*DING*

 

“Now John, what is you-“

 

“Justice for 100!”

 

But the call doesn’t come from John Duran. Instead it comes from Mr. Hearford in the ring, and Quiz shuffles through his cards and brings up the correct card out of instinct.

 

“Um… This is the current Chief Justice of the Supreme Court.”

 

“Who is William Renquist?”

 

*DING!*

 

“200!”

 

“This Justice was the first African American on the Supreme Court.”

 

“Who is Thurgood Marshall?”

 

*DING!*

 

“300!”

 

“Uh… This Supreme Court Justice wrote the unanimous opinion in Marbury v. Madison.”

 

“Who is John Marshall?”

 

*DING!*

 

“400!”

 

Quiz continues to shuffle through the cards, looking for the next question.

 

“This court Justice is best known for the “Clear and Present Danger” test.”

 

“Who is Oliver Wendall Holmes?”

 

*DING!*

 

“500!”

 

“This Justice wrote in the dissenting opinion of Plessy vs. Ferguson.”

 

“Who is John Harlan?”

 

No ding…

 

“Who is John Harlan #1?”

 

*DING!*

 

A small bit of polite applause comes down from the crowd as Ejiro snatches the mic away.

 

“Screw clearing out the category, Potpourri for 500!”

 

Quiz gets even more frustrated, but as a game show host he instinctually hunts down the question… and when he finds it he gives a little smirk.

 

“For 500… Name this Puccini Opera in which an Opera star falls in love with a revolutionary who is to be executed by a firing squad.”

 

“What is Tosca?”

 

*DING!*

 

“…”

 

“…”

 

“…”

 

Even the Judge is surprised at that one, and Ejiro just shrugs it off with a smirk on his face. At any rate, before Ejiro can ask for another question Duran grabs the cards and tosses them away.

 

“God damn it,” he yells into the mic, “I got answer for you right now! This is the damn team who is going to beat your ass! Do you have a question for that one?”

 

“What is your mother is a whore?” quips Ejiro.

 

Ooooo, he did not just say that. Duran tosses the mic right down onto the stage and in a rage he runs down towards the ring, with Quiz behind him trying to calm him down.

 

“Damn it, they are TRYING to make us angry, John! Don’t let them get the better of us!”

 

But Duran doesn’t seem to listen as he goes stomping down towards the former Tag Champs. Funyon quickly snatches away the mic from Ejiro for an abbreviated entrance.

 

“Running down to the ring, weighing in at 464 pounds, they are the current tag champions, Sinquizition!”

 

Funyon quickly bails as Duran enters with Quiz following behind, and Kivell quickly calls for the bell.

 

*DING DING DING*

 

“Utter disrespect by Justice and Rule! It’s an unspoken rule not to mess with one’s entrance!”

 

“Bah! I thought it was hilarious AND educational! That had to give us some brownie points with the network!”

 

In the ring Duran rises up and goes in, immediately rushing towards Ejiro. Meanwhile the Judge locks up with the rising Quiz, immediately dominating with his size and strength. Fasaki quickly bails, sliding out and leaving Duran in the ring, but before he can follow him, Kivell begins escorting him out of the ring. The Sinner gives a vicious look as Ejiro comes back up onto the apron while his partner pushes him into one of the neutral corners. He flings him hard against the post and immediately fires off a contemptuous knife-edged chop!

 

WHOO!

 

CHOP!

 

WHOO!

 

CHOP!

 

WHOO!

 

CHOP!

 

WHOO!

 

The game show host stumbles out of the corner, and Hearford immediately pushes him towards the ropes. Catching him on the rebound he quickly wraps nails him with a hard lariat, putting him on the ground and allowing an easy tag out to Ejiro while Duran fumes on the outside.

 

“Justice and Rule quickly take advantage of their ill-gotten advantage and single Quiz out,” notes Comet as Riley nods his head in approval.

 

“Yeah, getting Duran angry enough and then picking off an off-balance Quiz was definitely a great use of tactics. Really shows you why these guys were tag champs for so long.”

 

“Because they use deception, trickery, and childish insults against their opponents?”

 

“Exactly! Wow, Comet, you got that one quicker than I thought you would.”

 

Fasaki playfully leaps over the ropes and into the ring as Quiz begins to get up, and he quickly nails him with a boot to the gut to slow him down. Locking on a front headlock, Ejiro begins putting knees into the smaller tag champ’s stomach. He delivers about two or three before he finally lets him fall to the ground in a heap holding his stomach. With Quiz temporarily disabled, Ejiro begins attacking him on the ground, dropping knees onto the man’s back. The crowd boos as the Sarasota Cobra takes a second or so to flaunt his advantage to the fans after laying a few hard knees into Quiz’s back.

 

“Ejiro is going right after Quiz’s ribs and back right now. Quiz may be fast, but when your ribs are busted up you can’t pull off all this big impact moves that this guy can do, which makes him something you don’t have to worry about.”

 

“I wouldn’t worry about Quiz as much as I would worry about Duran, Bobbie. The man is a freight-train of pain and once he gets in he’s going to be one unstoppable force.”

 

“But that’s the thing: he isn’t going to be getting in anyways. If Justice and Rule can handle Quiz like this, Duran might as well start driving to the airport to get on the next plane.”

 

Quiz begins to get up, but not before receiving some ‘help’ from Ejiro, who grabs him by the arm and yanks him up and into his corner. Quiz once again hits the turnbuckle, but he’s not alone as Hearford instantly locks on a chinlock on the man! Kivell begins to come over to berate him, but Ejiro runs past him and hits a dropkick on the isolated man. In his corner, Duran bangs his fist as Hearford tags in and begins mud-hole stomping Quiz to the mat. He pulls up the still-stunned man up… but he’s not as stunned as the old man thinks, throwing a hard punch as he is yanked up to standing. He punches a few more times, pushing the Judge back, and begins to stumble towards his corner…

 

 

 

 

… but Hearford quickly recovers, grabbing the man by the arm and pulling him into a short-arm clothesline! He throttles the cruiserweight big-time, sending him down hard to the mat! The crowd boos as Justice gives a quick shake of his head to get the cobwebs out and he pulls up Quiz into a front headlock and brings him back to the other side to tag out to Ejiro. He restrains him as Ejiro gives him a sharp kick to the gut, and begins bringing him a little closer to Duran. He yanks him in and out of reach of Duran playfully, and the Sinner’s face begins turning red with anger.

 

“Come on, man, he’s so close!” says Ejiro jokingly.

 

“This is too much!” says Comet, “He’s taunting the tiger in his cage, Bobbie!”

 

“Bah, if Duran is a tiger, then Ejiro is part of Siegfried and Roy!”

 

“… do you ever watch the news?”

 

”Only Fox News. Why do you ask?”

 

In Pittsburgh, a whiny college liberal suddenly screams “FAUX NEWZ LOL2K3!” and falls over laughing.

 

At any rate, Ejiro continues to yank Quiz in and out of the reach of John Duran, still jawing at the Tag Champ. Suddenly, though, Quiz gives a sharp kick to the knee of Ejiro! The tag champ grimaces and releases his grip…

 

*SLAP*

 

John Duran grins.

 

Ejiro Fasaki grimaces.

 

And the crowd gazes on, watching the imminent destruction of Rule as John Duran comes into the ring! The huge man begins moving forth, and Ejiro tries to move out of the way… but gets absolutely plowed as Duran nails him with a huge shoulder block! Hearford immediately tries to get into the ring, but Duran moves right onto him, nailing him with a spear to the gut! The crowd doesn’t know how to act as the big prick destroys two smaller pricks, so some give boos and others give cheers. Duran doesn’t care, though, and as the Judge rolls out of the ring clutching his ribs he moves back to Fasaki, who is stumbling back up to his feet.

 

“It looks like Justice and Rule just got their egos hammered into place by John Duran!” says Comet as Duran instantly locks up with Ejiro and pries away one of his arms. He pulls Ejiro into his arm again and again, ramming him with standing shoulder blocks! The crowd winces in unison as Duran lets Ejiro fall to the ground before dropping an Elbow on him from a pin!

 

ONE!

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

THRNO! Ejiro manages to get a shoulder up before a third slap of the canvas. But Duran is not screwing around with Ejiro: He’s sole intention is beating these ‘legends’ to a pulp for trying to take his tag title. He shoots a look over to Quiz, who isn’t quite recovered from the beating yet, and decides to buy his partner some more time. He pulls up Ejiro… but Ejiro tries to fight back, nailing the bending giant with an elbow to the nose! Duran is sent backwards a step, but he fires back a massive bearpaw to the skull of Ejiro, putting the smaller man on dizzy path sideways. Ejiro isn’t able to recover quick enough and Duran hammers him with another, and another, and another before backing him up against the ropes for a whip. He chucks Fasaki towards the other side, looking for a lariat… but instead, Ejiro leaps up for a crucifix pin! Only problem: Duran doesn’t go down!

 

“Damn, look at the strength of Duran there!” says the fickle Riley, already looking to switch sides, “Even with Ejiro putting on a few pounds he can’t take him down!”

 

The Sinner smiles as he bends his arms a little to get a better grip on Ejiro before he leaps backwards, dropping him to the mat with a modified Samoan Drop! Fasaki’s body is crushed beneath the massive man as he gets up and looks over at his partner… who looks a bit better off at the moment. Knowing this, he pulls up Ejiro instead of going for a pin and drags him over towards his partner. Quiz tags in, a bit eager to cause some pain himself. Following in the modified axiom of “Revenge is a dish best served springboard”, Quiz leaps onto the ropes as Duran moves out of the way, allowing him to put his best two feet forward for a missile dropkick! Fasaki drops like a rock as Quiz holds his ribs for a second, but it doesn’t stop him much as he gets back up. Looking to cause a bit more pain, Quiz bounces off the ropes and drops a leg right across the back of Ejiro’s head!

 

“Ouch! Well, it’s obvious that the evil intentions of Sinquizition aren’t going to be stopped by ego problems.”

 

“Yeah, they know that they can’t let they guys get an open chance on them. They have to work together to beat these two.”

 

“Indeed… you switched your tune quickly, didn’t you?”

 

“Hey, all that matters for me is being on the winning side in the end!”

 

Quiz neglects a cover, rather getting back up and tagging in his larger compatriot in. Duran cracks his knuckles and goes over to the downed Sarasota Cobra, pulling him up like a rag doll. He tosses Ejiro against the ropes and slams him down in spectacular fashion with a Powerslam, holding on for the pin!

 

ONE!

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

THREENO! Ejiro barely gets a shoulder up! But that doesn’t deter Duran as he pulls Ejiro back up… and gets an elbow to the face! Ejiro tries to fight the big man off, nailing him with another Elbow and another. Hearford, now recovered from the spear, waits for Ejiro to start making his move for the tag, but Ejiro has to finish up his elbow combo, spinning clockwise…

 

 

*BAM*

 

 

… But never finishing as Duran gets just enough time to recover and nail him with a huge lariat! John spins his arm in his socket with a grin as he moves over and tags out to Quiz, who leaps over the ropes and leaps back on for a Lionsault!

 

“Wink Martindale Moonsault! This could be it! The biggest win in Sinquizition’s history!”

 

ONE!!

 

 

TWO!!

 

 

THREEEENO! The Judge rushes in to break up the pin! Kivell immediately orders the Judge out, but Quiz doesn’t go after him. Instead he goes back to work, pulling up the Sarasota Cobra and locking him up. With Ejiro more than a bit dazed, it doesn’t take much effort to dominate the tie-up. He presses Fasaki back into the neutral corner, and from there Quiz continues to keep the pressure on with a series of hard right hands that find the mark right in the kisser of the annoying United States Champion. Rocking back and forth on his heels from the force of the right hands, Ejiro Fasaki looks just about out on his feet as referee Matthew Kivell’s constant warnings go unheeded as Quiz continues to use his knuckles time and again. Finally tired of having his orders go ignored, Kivell reaches out and hooks Quiz around the shoulder and pulls the Tag Team champion out of the corner. Immediately backing the referee back with a nasty look that would put Roger Clemens to shame, Quiz returns to his assigned task of knocking Fasaki’s head in only to be cut off at the pass.

 

 

POKE!

 

Blinded by a well-placed thumb to the eye, the game show host staggers right back out of the corner as Ejiro rubs the rising knot on his head. But well-known for his ability to absorb a great deal of punishment, Fasaki is able to come back regardless and drive Quiz strait down to the canvas with a hand right across his throat! With the referee immediately down and calling for the break, Fasaki continues to throttle his foe in the most base way imaginable.

 

Riley gushes, “And it looks like Justice and Rule are ready to turn up the heat on Quiz! They want to let the world know just who the best tag team in history is!”

 

“It looks to me as these two teams would rather show off which team can bend or break the rules as much as they can”, sighs a generally disgruntled Cyclone Comet. “Although Duran and Quiz have done a hell of a job taking this match to Justice and Rule, you and I both know that they will do whatever they can in order to keep the tag team titles around their waists.”

 

Finally breaking the choke as the referee threatens a disqualification, Ejiro looks down at the coughing Quiz with a look of complete disdain as he reaches out to bring The Judge back into the match with a tag. Then combining together, The Judge and Ejiro send Quiz across the ring with a double whip. On the rebound, Hearford and Fasaki pluck the Tag Team champion off the canvas for a double flapjack. But rather than simply falling back to the mat, Justice and Rule take a few steps back with Quiz still in their arms and drop him throat-first right on the top rope! Rebounding off the strands, the Sinquizition member flops down on the canvas with both hands clutched around his throat. Completely ignoring the referee’s orders to stay off the throat, Hearford continues with his assault as Fasaki heads to the apron to recover more fully from some of the damage he has received at the hands of Duran and Quiz. Immediately placing the sole of his boot on top of Quiz’s throat, Hearford leans in with as much of his weight as he can in order to further strangle his opponent. No longer sitting back and allowing his partner to take this sort of mugging, John Duran rushes into the ring only to be stopped in midstream by the official.

 

“If there is one difference between these two teams its that Sinquizition works off emotion a lot more that the calculated Hearford and Fasaki,” notes The Cyclone Comet. “And while sometime emotion can carry you through to victory, right now Duran is costing his team!”

 

Instantly seeing the referee’s attention no longer on his actions, Hearford moves quickly to pull Quiz up to his knees and grab his foe in a headlock. Pulling up on Quiz’s chin, The Judge gives himself a perfect target as he begins to hammer into his opponent’s throat with a number of closed fists! Attempting to literally make Quiz suffer as much as possible the hammering only stops as the referee finally gets Duran back on the apron and turns back to the action. Immediately putting his arms in the air as Quiz collapses on his face while gurgling like a baby fresh from the womb. Having a little chuckle at the sick noises emanating from the tag team champion, The Judge snags Quiz by the hair and lifts him off the canvas once again before slamming his face against the canvas once again with a disdainful air. Turning over onto his back, Quiz provides Hearford with an excellent target as Justice leans into the rope to drop an elbow on the prone quizmaster. However, William never gets that far as John Duran interjects once again!

 

SLAP!

 

Slapping the back of Hearford’s skull as he bounces off the ropes, Duran completely stops The Judge’s momentum. Turning his back on the downed Quiz, William looks at ‘The Sinner’ like the powerful grappler just grew a second head. Barking at his foe in rage, Hearford jaws with John for a moment before simply tossing a right hand the way of the former leader of Urban Decay.

 

Mistake.

 

Snagging the blow underneath his own arm, Duran holds Hearford despite Judge’s best efforts and also manages to snag a handful of his hair. Then pulling Judge forward while leaning over the top rope himself, Duran sends Justice bouncing across the ring with a mammoth headbutt right in between Hearford’s eyes! Staggered by the force of the blow, Hearford falls backward to the canvas while John looks on with a devilish smile regardless of the protests of both the referee and Ejiro Fasaki. But perhaps the person this event effects the most is the member of the tag team champions still in the ring. With a hand still across his neck, Quiz starts to make his way across the mat and towards the ready and waiting John Duran.

 

“Quiz needs to make the tag or Justice and Rule will continue to take advantage of his wounded nature,” calls out The Cyclone Comet. “In this battle of jackals against hyenas, it looks like the last laugh might be on … one of them.”

 

Bobbie Riley says, “You haven’t decided which team is which animal have you?”

 

“No.”

 

“Well one of the four legs just made the tag!”

 

Taking a little dive to get across the ring and to his partner, Quiz reaches out to make the tag to a ready and waiting John Duran! Rushing into the ring like a bull John knocks a rising Judge right back to the mat with a shoulder block that knocks the also powerful litigater down to the canvas. Turning after the impact, Duran spins into the Justice and Rule corner and uses his right hand to drive Fasaki right off the apron and to the arena floor. Moving right back to Hearford, Duran shoves his challenger into a corner and starts to go to work with a number of sledgehammer type blows to the body. With so much punishment being dealt in such a short time that it drives Hearford down on his seat and into a more helpless position where John can enact some of his favorite dish, revenge. Then placing the sole of his boot against the face of the resident old man of the SWF and scrapes it asunder with enough friction to start a fire. Once again with a sick smile across his lips, Duran distorts the features of the former hardcore champion’s features with another boot. Then with Hearford painfully holding the side of his face, Duran builds up another head of steam by running into the ropes and coming back with a running kick right to Hearford’s mug!

 

Riley pipes up, “Good god in heaven! I think The Judge will be trying out for the part of Leatherface after this match ends!”

 

“Finally his outward appearance will match his personality!” replies The Comet. “I always liked my villains nice and scarred like Dr. Doom, The Red Skull and Martha Stewart.”

 

Pulling the devastated Judge out of the corner, Duran heaves him across the ring and into the ropes before lowering a shoulder and sending Hearford up in the air with a back toss. Immediately continuing with his assault, Duran pulls the wounded Hearford across the ring before plucking him off the mat and crushing him against the canvas with a tremendous powerslam! Hooking a leg high and tight, Duran holds on for what he hopes will be a successful title defense.

 

ONE!

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

THREEEEEEEEE NO! EJIRO MAKES THE SAVE!

 

Racing into the ring rather than chance that The Judge would be unable to kick out before the three, Fasaki dives across the ring and slams the back of Duran’s back in order to stop the fatal count of three. But as he rises up with a smile on his face, Fasaki’s expression changes completely as Quiz knocks him down to the mat with a spinning wheel kick! Knocking Ejiro to the mat and all the way out of the ring, Quiz hops out to the apron with an eye on the prize. Leaping up to the middle rope as Ejiro rises up on the floor, Quiz flattens his opponent with the “Monty Hall” Asai moonsault!

 

“Now is the time,” calls out The Comet. “With two evil doers down on the outside, it is up to The Judge and John Duran to decide the outcome of this match and they better do it fast!”

 

Shrugging off Ejiro’s blow, Duran is the first to make his move by pulling the nasty judge off the canvas and shoving him across the ring into a neutral corner and following in with such a clothesline that it totally knocks Hearford’s feet right off the canvas. Knocked all loopy by the force of the blow, The Judge stammers out of the corner as Duran heads right into the ropes for as much momentum as he can muster before sending a clothesline aimed right at The Judge’s head!

 

WHAM!

 

“WHAT A COUNTER!”

 

Ducking right underneath the arm, Judge ropes a leg right behind Duran’s and crushes him against the canvas with a mighty ‘closing argument’ STO slam! Bouncing an inch off the canvas with the impact, Hearford reaches around to make a cover just as Quiz manages to crawl back into the ring.

 

ONE!

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

THREEEEEEEEEEEEE! NOOOOOO!

 

Running across the ring, the game show host slams two of his feet right into the face of Judge William Hearford with a dropkick and knocks him right out of the cover. Saving his tag team title reign, Quiz gets back to his feet with a little fist pump that signifies just how much he enjoys this sort of tag team action. But that enjoyment lasts barely a moment as Ejiro is crawling right behind the quizmaster and into the ring. Grabbing Quiz by the scruff of the neck, Ejiro runs forward before tossing him right over the top rope and to the arena floor!

 

The Cyclone Comet speaks, “Neither team can establish themselves as they continue to jump into the ring without any regard for rules or regulations!”

 

“Well this isn’t ballet or baseball or football or golf or wrestling,” answers Bobbie.

 

“Yes it is wrestling!”

 

“This isn’t the Westminster dog show? No wonder there is a complete lack of bitches around here!”

 

Leaving Quiz on the floor, Ejiro turns over to where he sees both his partner and John Duran rising up side by side. Knowing that will never, ever do Ejiro decides to stay in the ring a moment longer and help the cause in a most momentous way! Looking to the Judge, Ejiro signals his partner into running into the ropes while he gives John a lovely parting gift of…

 

KICK!

 

WHAM!

 

STUNNER!

 

Stood strait up by the force of the jawbreaker, Duran stands cross-eyed for just a moment before he gets LEVELED with a…

 

“LARIATOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

 

“That is championship caliber double teaming!”

 

ONNNNNNNNNNNNNNE!

 

 

“This is it! New champions!”

 

 

TWOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

 

 

“KICK OUT! KICK OUT!” cheers on The Cyclone Comet despite himself.

 

 

THREEEEEEEEEEE NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

 

Using a slingshot to propel his body over the top rope, Quiz manages to break up the cover with a revolving legdrop that catches Judge Mental right behind the ear in order to break the cover! Sliding out of the ring immediately, Quiz avoids even getting a condemnation from the referee, who instead looks down at both Hearford and Duran and considers starting a double count out but as both men immediately begin to stir he forgoes the formality. Dragging their bodies over to their corners, both men make the exchange and bring fresher faces into the ring for further confrontation. Immediately meeting in the center of the ring, both Fasaki and Quiz start off tossing right hands right into each other’s faces. Absorbing the blows time and again both cruiserweights refuse to fall to each other as the referee demands that this brawling come to an end. But it is Fasaki with the brawling advantage as brings an arm up to block Quiz and drives three uncontested rights into the mouth of his foe. But that is exactly when the referee steps in the path of the grapplers and orders the fighting to stop. Immediately drawing a minor shove from Ejiro, Kivell stumbles backward as the United States Champion points down at the official with a bit of righteous anger. Suffice to say… that does not help his matters with Quiz.

 

DING!

 

With the referee not really concerned with the infraction, Quiz manages to kick a forty-yard punt with Fasaki’s nut sack. Doubled over at the waist, Fasaki can do nothing but try not to puke as Quiz hits the ropes before taking Ejiro down with the ‘lightning round’ spinning neck breaker! Immediately grabbing Ejiro by an ankle, Quiz pulls Rule closer to a neutral corner before grabbing the top rope. Slinging his way right up to the top rope, Quiz drops down to his seat before crushing Fasaki underneath a ‘Chuck Woolery’ split-legged moonsault! Immediately hooking a leg, Quiz looks to take this match for Sinquizition!

 

ONNNNNNNNNNNNE!

 

 

 

TWOOOOOOOOOOOO!

 

 

 

THREEEEEEEEEEEEEE! NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

 

Reaching out from his spot on the arena floor, The Judge manages to grab one of Fasaki’s legs and place it on the bottom rope in order to stop the count!

 

“Veteran move and it saved Ejiro Fasaki!” calls out The Comet as Quiz looks to the floor and sees the relieved Judge turn his back to the ring for a second while rubbing his face.

 

But sooner rather than later, The Judge has bigger problems as Quiz no longer in the mood for this double teaming nonsense and instead propels himself over the top in order to smash a turning Hearford to the arena floor with a slingshot plancha! Leaping up to his feet, Quiz makes his way back up to the apron and signals that he is about a second away from taking Fasaki out once and for all. Heading up top to the top rope, Quiz looks to polish Fasaki up off with a “Potpourri for 450” splash! But before Quiz can complete the move, Fasaki jumps up to his feet and drives a fist into the gut of the angriest game show host since Louie Anderson. Dropping down off his perch, Quiz manages to groin himself on the top turnbuckle much to the utter disdain of the entire crowd. Immediately moving up to the top rope in front of his opponent, Fasaki looks to send Quiz over with a superplex only to have there be a larger obstacle in his path. An obstacle named John Duran. Slamming a forearm into the back of Fasaki, Duran places his head underneath Fasaki and walks him backward into the center of the ring as Quiz readjusts his footing on the top rope.

 

“Oh me oh my,” pops off Bobbie Riley as Sinquizition look to double up on Rule while Justice is still recovering on the floor.

 

“OH ME! OH MY!”

 

Diving off the top rope, Quiz wraps his legs around Ejiro’s head before pulling him down to the mat with the Los Gringos Loco frankensteiner! Immediately stepping out of the way, John allows Quiz to make the cover that will seal the deal for Justice and Rule!

 

ONNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

 

 

 

 

 

THREEEEEEEEEEEEWWWWWNOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

 

Desperately reaching out from the floor, The Judge manages to grab a hold of Quiz by the ankle and pull him all the way out to the concrete! Landing on his face on the floor, Quiz curls into a little ball of pain as The Judge slides into the ring in order to help his partner out against the once again raging ‘Sinner.’ But just as he makes it to his feet, The Judge is knocked right back down to the mat with a clothesline across the neck! Standing tall as Justice gets to his feet once again, Duran knocks his foe right back to the mat with another hard blow across the chest. Rolling to the apron where he might be able to recover, William leaves Ejiro to fend for himself as Duran is forced to the apron by a rather flustered referee.

 

“Ejiro needs to get out of the ring right bleeding now!” calls out Bobbie Riley as Quiz manages to crawl up to the apron. “If Quiz brings John Duran back into this match right now, Sinquizition is going to retain their World Tag Team titles!”

 

SLAP!

 

“Well I guess that’s that,” calls a resigned Bobbie Riley as John Duran makes his legal path into the ring!

 

Charging into the ring, John circles like a shark as Fasaki struggles to finally rise from the impact of the frankensteiner only to be jerked right up and down with a thunderous…

 

“SPINNNNNNNNNNEBUSTAH!”

 

ONNNNNNNNNNNNNNNE!

 

TWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

 

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

 

Dropping down for another cover, Duran looks to get the three count once again but does not even get two before The Judge gets into the ring and manages to break the count with a stomp to the back of the head. Continuing the assault despite the warnings of the referee, William continues to stomp down on Duran … that is until Quiz runs across the ring and knocks The Judge out of the ring with a running fist to the face! Kicking at the fallen litigater, Quiz tries to keep The Judge down only to have the referee grab the game master around the waist and pull him back across the ring. While at the same time, John pulls the nearly unconscious Fasaki off the mat and jams his head between his legs in preparation for the ‘Ultimate Sin’ powerbomb!

 

“This is going to be all! This will be it!”

 

But as John holds Ejiro up above his head, his grip is suddenly less sure as he feels Ejiro get pulled out of his hands! And as he turns around, Duran sees just who pulled Fasaki free… and just who has a metal chain ready and waiting!

 

BAM!

 

Tossing the chain into the crowd, The Judge pushes Ejiro on top of the downed ‘Sinner’ just as the referee turns to see the pinning combination! Diving across the ring and sliding into position, Kivell counts as Quiz explodes out of the corner to make the save!

 

ONNNNNNNNNNNNNNNE!

 

Judge tries to make the interception!

 

TWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

 

And Quiz kicks him in the jimmies!

 

THREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!

 

BUT IT’S TOO DAMN LATE!

 

DING! DING! DING!

 

“Son of a Galatea!” calls out The Cyclone Comet in rage at the final trumping act of cheating causes a changing of the guard. Quiz falls to his knees just short of the downed Duran, a blank look on his face after coming so close to beating one of the best tag teams ever.

 

“THE KINGS ARE BACK! THE KINGS ARE BACK!” roars Bobbie Riley as the referee hands the belts back to Justice and Rule after a three-month absence.

 

Together Hearford and Fasaki hold their newly won belts to their chests on the mat as Funyon’s voice rings through the arena, “The winners of the match and NEWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW SWF TAG TEAM CHAMPIONS… WILLIAM HEARFORD and EJIRO FASAKI … JUSTICE AND RUUUUUUUULLLLLLLLLLLLLLE!”

 

*FADE OUT*

[the.weej 0]

Backstage and Va’aiga is STILL walking around fuming, taking long paces through the backstage area. A large scarred arm blocks his progress down the labyrinthine corridors of the Garrett Coliseum. The camera pans across to reveal the built body of The Boston Strangler.

 

Strangler: What’s up with you, man? What happened to the guy who fed Tom Flesher to me in that six man? What happened to guy who backed me up in tag matches? You’ve changed man.

 

Va’aiga: Strangler. I haven’t changed. I’ve changed BACK. This…

 

Va’aiga points to his te Moko covered face…

 

Va’aiga: Is who I am. Now get out of my face.

 

Strangler stares into the tattooed face of the Maori Badass for a second before moving away, maybe trying to read his expression, maybe just making the point that he’s not intimidated. Finally, Strangler walks off down the corridor, leaving the Maori alone in the corridor again.

 

Va’aiga: I’ve changed back.

[the.weej 0]

Comet: “Go Bama! Go Bama!”

Riley: “Comet, has some been letting you watch Crimson Tide again? That movie gets you too hyper. ”

 

Comet: “Please Citizen Riley. I’m celebrating this fine state we’re in for this fine Storm show.”

Riley: “I’m celebrating that fact we’re about to see Andrew Blackwell showing Dace Night his place. I can only hope Va’aiga comes out to help.”

 

Comet: “Hasn’t Va’aiga spoke on his views about Dace?”

Riley: “You think he means that?”

 

Comet: “Well anyway. After Dace’s effort against the World Champion, then being turned on by his partner, Commissioner has rewarded him by giving him another title shit, this time against the ICTV champion”

Riley: “Just because Dace is slipping Mark many back handers to keep his place on the card. It’s just not I on tell you Comet!”

 

The Montgomery crowd ripples back into life once as Funyon climbs back into the ring, with his costume made house mike in hand.

 

Funyon: “Ladies and Gentlemen, the following one on one contest will be for one fall and will be for the SWF ICTV CHAMPIONSHIP!”

 

YYYYYYAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!

 

Funyon: “Introducing firstly, from Birmingham England, weighting in at two hundred and fifty two pounds, he is … DACE…”

 

FUCKING!

 

Funyon: “NIGHT!”

 

RRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!

 

The patterns for red and purple lights flash through the raising smoke as Captor Of Sin screams into life. The fans in the ramp side seats leap to their feet as a wave of pyro blasts flash down the ramp as Dace Night strides down from the entrance way. Standing at the top of the ramp for the moment to air guitar along with the shredding riffs before sprinting down the ramp and sliding into the ring. Bouncing himself off the ropes and flexing his arms while he waits for the Sacred One.

 

Funyon: “And his opponent, from Adelaide Australia, weighing in at two hundred and twenty out pounds .. the SWF ICTV CHAMPION … ‘THE SACRED ONE’ ANDREW BLACKWELL!”

 

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

I will control the horizontal. I will control the vertical.

I am controlling transmission…”

 

BBBBBBOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

 

Lycia fades in with it’s slow bass over Blackwell’s voice as it echoes through the arena.

The lights fade out to almost nothing as the Sacred One strolls out under the spot light, with the ICTV title around his waist. With a clam smirk across his face, Andrew walks around the ring, eying up the challenger in the middle of the ring before handing over his title belt to the time keeper. Climbing the apron, Sacred steps through the ropes and into the ring as Referee Hardcastle takes up his place in the middle of the ring. Waving his arm in the air, he signals for the opening bell.

 

DING, DING, DING!

 

YYYYYAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!

 

Almost pouncing onto the ICTV Champ, Dace slams a quick knee in to his gut and slips behind him into a Rear Waist as Blackwell swings his arms with wild Back Elbows, forcing Dace to duck under the blows, allowing him to spin around. Catching the Sacred One as he spins, Night grabs his arm and launches him across the ring with an Irish Wipe. Side Stepping Blackwell as he flies back, Dace tries to shove him across the ring again but Andrew slams on the breaks, twisting on his heel and grabbing hold of the Hardcore Goth, whips him across the ring into the ropes.

 

Catching Horrorcore as he bounces back, Sacred flips him off his feet, spinning him through the air and drops him back first across his knee with a Tilt a Whirl Backbreaker. Following Dace to the mat, Blackwell sits on his back, pulling Night’s arm around behind his back into a Hammerlock. Sitting his whole body weight across Night’s back, Sacred clamps the Hammerlock with his other arm and leans back, pulling at Dace’s shoulder and back. Digging his knees into Horrorcore’s side, Andrew tries to pop one bone or another with pressure as Dace reaches back with his free arm and tries to grasp hold of Blackwell’s leg.

 

Wrapping his fingers around the back of the Sacred One’s knee, Dace drags it forwards, half sweeping Sacred’s leg out from under him as he throws his body weight to the side, rolling them over, pinning Blackwell to the mat under him as Hardcastle dives in to count the fall.

 

YYYAAAAAHHHHH!

 

……ONE!

 

 

 

 

…Kickout!

 

OOOOOOOHHHHHH!

 

Comet: “Blackwell going straight to work with a Tilt A Whirl Backbreaker then clamping down with a Hammerlock.”

Riley: “Ahh, always good to see the Sacred One in control of people like Dace. He should be thankful for that reversal. It’s the only one he’s going to get in this match.”

 

Rolling away from Blackwell on the mat, Dace springs to his feet, shaking his shoulder out as Blackwell stands back up slowly. The smirk still on his face as he eyes Dace up and down. Edging forwards, the two circle each other slowly, inching in bit by bit towards each other. Throwing his legs forwards in a flash, Blackwell flies through the air with a Dropkick that connects with nothing as Dace leaps backwards to avoid it. Night moves back in over the fallen Sacred, but the Sacred throws his legs up, driving them into Night’s chest and launching him backwards as he kips up. As Dace scrambles to keep his balance, Blackwell spins on his heel and slams the side of his leg into Night’s chest with a Leg Lariat that drives him down to the mat.

 

BBBBBBBOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

 

Dragging Dace back to his feet, Sacred swings his arm in an arch and drives it into Horrorcore’s chest with a smack that rings out across the arena.

 

SMACK! WWWWWWOOOOOOOOOO!

 

SMACK! WWWWWWOOOOOOOOOO!

 

SMACK! WWWWWWOOOOOOOOOO!

 

Comet: “The Sacred One is feeling very Ric Flair right now it seems.”

Riley: “Why shouldn’t one god channel another?”

 

Forcing Dace back across the ring with the rain of Knife Edge Chops, Andrew switches blows in mid swing and drills his forearm into the Goth’s face before leaping from his feet and wrapping his legs around Night’s head. Throwing his body backwards, Sacred takes Dace overhead to the mat with a Hurricanrana, keeping his weight planted on Night’s shoulder as the hit the mat for a cover.

 

……ONE!

 

 

 

……TWO!

Kickout!

 

YYYYAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!

 

Rolling back to his feet, Blackwell drops to a crouch as Dace forces himself back up. Leaping forwards like a snake, Blackwell ducks himself under Night’s one arm, wrapping an arm around his shoulder and neck, looking for a Spanish Inquisition. But before he can drive Dace into the mat, Horrorcore slams the point of his elbow into the side of Sacred’s head. Clamping his arms in a Rear Waistlock, Dace snaps his body backwards, launching Blackwell through the air with a Release German Suplex, sending him crunching into the mat.

 

OOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

 

Quickly following Andrew across the ring, Dace roll him off his shoulder and hooks a leg as Hardcastle slides in to count the fall.

 

 

……ONE!

 

 

 

 

……TWO!

 

 

 

 

……TWO AND A QUARTER!

 

 

 

 

 

……TWO AND A HALF!

 

KICKOUT!

 

BBBBBBBOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

 

Comet: “Blackwell goes for the Spanish Inquisition but Dace counters and nails him with a Release German Suplex.”

Riley: “But it’s not enough to put down the Champ. Don’t you forget that one Comet.”

 

Hauling Blackwell back to his feet as he stands, Dace drills a knee into the Sacred One’s mid section before clamping on a Front Facelock. Sling one of Sacred’s arms over his shoulders, Dace wrenches him up into the air for a Suplex, but Blackwell shifts his weight in him air and turn around, dropping back to the mat. Spinning Dace around planting a boot into his mid section, doubling him over. Snapping on a Facelock, Sacred sweeps his leg forward and pulls Dace’s leg out from under him, diving forwards and planting him face first into the mat.

 

Riley: “CRUEL FATE! It’s over!”

 

BBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBBOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

 

Flipping Night over onto his back, Sacred hooks a leg and makes the cover.

 

……ONE!

 

 

 

 

……TWO!

 

 

 

 

 

 

……TWO AND A QUARTER!

 

 

 

 

 

……TWO AND A HALF!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

……TWO AND THREE QUARTERS!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

……THREE!

 

 

DING! DING! DING!

 

BBBBBBBBOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

 

Funyon: “Ladies and Gentlemen, here is you winner and still … SWF ICTV CHAMPION … ANDREW BLACKWELL!”

 

SACRED SUCKS! SACRED SUCKS! SACRED SUCKS!

 

Riley: “Ahh, what a beautiful thing to see. Cruel Fate from out of nowhere and it’s all over. See Comet, Dace doesn’t have what it takes. And we have Va’aiga to thank for softening him up with a Stinger last week.”

 

Lycia rolls out over the arena as Sacred almost snatches the ICTV title from the time keeper’s hands, Andrew Blackwell thrusts it high overhead as he stands of Night’s fallen body, as he almost laughs to himself as the fans continue to boo on.

 

Comet: “Well, coming up we’ve got Tom Flesher defending his World Title against Erek Taylor.”

Riley: “Bah, someone needs to teach Tom some sense again. I don’t know what’s happened to the man, but it’s not good…”

 

Fade Out.

[the.weej 0]

Somewhere, in a random un-unique corridor deep within the confines of the arena, a sweaty Ben Hardy stands wearily in front of a monstrosity of a camera, broadcasting the scene on the Smarktron for all to see. Behind everyone’s favorite human punching bag of an interviewer stands the imposing presence of Danny Williams. Though it’s obvious that there is a furious fire burning behind his eyes, Williams does his best to keep his rage a quiet one.

 

“Hi, I’m Ben Hardy, and standing by is Danny Williams”, loudly boasts the always enthused and incredibly nervous Ben Hardy.

 

Williams uncomfortably nods, giving Hardy the O.K. to precede as planned.

 

“First off Mr. Williams, I’d like to think you for giving me this interview”, Hardy rambles on,”I’m sure many of your fans would like to know what your thoughts are concerning this shocking turn of events that have transpired in the past couple of weeks.”

 

Williams nervously clears his throat, before responding,”I don’t know......this whole thing....it feels like it just came out of nowhere. If Va’aiga wanted to go out on his own and make a name for himself.......but what he did to Dace was uncalled for, and I will not let this cowardly act of betrayal go unanswered!”

 

“So your saying there will be a retaliation of some sort?”

 

No longer able to restrain himself any longer, Williams snarls,”Your damn straight there will be a retaliation! Since I’ve been in the SWF and SJL, there’s only been one person who’s remained loyal to me, and kept his word, and that’s Dace Fucking Night! He must be avenged, I owe it to him.”

 

Asking the tough questions, Hardy interjects,”So is it true that you favored Dace over Va’aiga?”

 

Williams sighs, his rage mysteriously vanishing, only to be replaced by regret and self pity. Williams calmly speaks,”Looking back.............I could have done things a lot better. As leader and mentor, I did neglect Va’aiga, as well as Dace. I would like to think that if I was a little more involved, if I did things differently, things would be different.....but they wouldn’t be.”

 

“So now what will become of the Trinity.”

 

“I’m not really worried about that right now.”, Williams forces a smile before continuing,”The only thing on mind is Va’aiga. I always thought he had the potential to be great, that’s why I hand picked him from the JL. He’s gonna be a big superstar someday, but he’s not gonna be one at my expense. He thinks I’m holding him down...he’s right, but you know what let’s try to see him do something about it. Just like TNT, Va’aiga’s gonna find out that pushing me off my pedestal isn’t as easy as it seems.”

 

Impressed, Ben Hardy turns back to the camera, and in a very serious tone, starts his monologue, “Strong words...strong words. Well it looks it’s time for our next match of the evening, so I’ll let Comet and Riley take it away.”

[the.weej 0]

Flesher stands in his locker room, in front of a mirror. He wears his warm-up suit, and the SWF World Championship belt sits on his coffee table. Flesher, in his stance, shuffles back and forth, warming up for his match by wrestling and reacting to his mirror image. He shoots low, then stands up and grabs at the air as if he were grabbing an opponent for a headlock. He sprawls backwards, fluidly countering his imaginary opponent’s leg shot. He stands back up, in a defensive stance, and stares at his red-faced mirror image. He is about to shoot again, hoping to score on the man in the mirror, when he’s interrupted by a knock at the door.

 

“WHO IS IT?” he shouts.

 

“Grand Slam,” comes the reply.

 

Flesher sighs. “I’m trying to warm up, Mark, and you’re not my favorite person right now.”

 

Stevens opens the door anyway and hobbles in on his cane.

 

“Tom, I owe you an apology,” he says. “I’ve been very busy lately, what with Bastion and Va’aiga, and…”

 

“I don’t want to hear it.” Flesher keeps his back turned to Stevens.

 

“I’m serious, Tom. I overreacted when you asked for the night off, and…”

 

“And you overreacted by booking me in this ridiculous series of matches. I know. But you want to return the favor for your buddy Dace, so he needs to cash in his shot while I’m tired… but when he doesn’t win, you want to just beat me down a little further, right? So maybe next week someone you believe in can win the belt? Or maybe you’re just hoping I’ll sink down to Taylor’s level, right?”

 

Flesher turns around, his eyes full of fire.

 

“Mark, I’m sick of this. What the hell good is it being a good person and doing what’s right if no one’s going to believe it? It’s not like I’m doing this for some sort of financial gain. Lord knows that when I was cheating and Brian was running the show, crime paid, but it’s not like you’re offering me money to wrestle clean. Hell, look at how you’re rewarding me now.”

 

“Tom, I’m sincerely sorry, but it’s just hard to believe that –”

 

“You know what, Mark? If you don’t believe me, I don’t know how to prove it to you, but I can show you. Watch the match tonight. You threw me against Taylor so that I’d see him cheating and start doing the same thing. You want to be able to pat yourself on the back and tell everyone how you told them so, you knew I wasn’t going to stay on the side of the good for long. Come on out and watch me, and see what happens.”

 

“I’ll do you one better, Tom. I’ll be sitting there next to Comet and Riley,” says Stevens with obvious sincerity.

 

“As long as I can’t hear you, I’ll be happy,” says Flesher coldly. “Now get out of my locker room so I can finish warming up.”

 

Stevens hobbles out of the locker room, shutting the door behind him. Flesher drops down, and once again shoots on the man in the mirror.

[the.weej 0]

As SWF Storm returns from a commercial, the arena is quiet for a moment. Then…

 

::Crack!!!::

 

The crowd, simply put, explodes!

 

The crack of a bat and the roar of the crowd announce the commissioner, “Grand Slam” Mark Stevens! The noise is quickly supplanted by 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 explode 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 even more cheers for the Heavy Hitter, as they notice his SWF baseball cap!

 

“Fans,” says Bobby Riley, as Grand Slam makes his way down the ramp and to the table, “we’ve got one hell of a main event coming up, but the real story is between Tom Flesher and the man who’ll be joining us for commentary tonight, ‘Grand Slam’ Mark Stevens.”

 

Stevens takes his seat as the music fades, with none of his usual playing to the crowd.

 

“Thanks for joining us, Mark,” says Riley, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

 

“Uh… thanks for having me, Bobby. It’s been a while since we worked together, and it’s a pleasure to be back,” Stevens says, though he’s clearly preoccupied.

 

“Tell me,” says Comet, “what are you expecting to see from Tom Flesher tonight?”

 

“Well, Comet, to be frank, I’m not sure. Tom’s said and done a lot of things in the past, and for him to just change overnight…” Grand slam sighs and trails off.

 

“I’m with you, buddy,” says Riley, slapping Stevens on the back. “Flesher’s nothing but a bastard waiting to profit off someone’s misfortune.”

 

“Oh, grow up,” says Comet. “Tom Flesher is one of those very few men who ascends the mountain through nefarious means but, when he reaches the summit, he sees the morning light of the sun and realizes…”

 

“What the hell are you talking about?”

 

“I believe,” says Mark Stevens, “that Comet has jumped on the Flesher bandwagon a bit sooner than I’d be willing to.”

 

“Fair enough,” says Comet. “Now, let’s go to Funyon!”

 

Funyon, in the ring, announces, “Ladies and gentlemen, the following one-fall match is for the SWF World Championship, and it is your MAIN EVENT!” He pauses to let the crowd pop, and then says, “The challenger…”

 

The opening notes of Linkin Park’s “Numb” ring through the arena, prompting boos from the crowd. The lights dim, and white strobes begin to pulse in the arena as the fans anticipate the entrance. As the melody begins, the lights focus in on Erek Taylor as he steps through the curtain. The fans shower him with boos as he enters, and the fire in his eyes stands out. Tonight, the intensity he feels is different. It isn’t just hatred. He knows that tonight, the fire in his heart is going to burn Tom Flesher’s body away.

 

“Making his way to the ring, from Anaheim, California, and weighing in at 180 pounds, this is the High-Flying Prince, EREK TAAAAAAAAAYLOR!!!!!!”

 

Taylor sneers at the crowd as he continues walking to the ring, sliding in and mounting the ropes to collect his chorus of boos once more. As he plays to the crowd, the music fades out, and Funyon announces, “And his opponent…”

 

The lights go down and the SmarkTron begins glowing white. As the opening guitars of the Philosopher Kings’ “I Am The Man” vibrate through the arena, the words “WORLD HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPION” fade onto the screen in thin blue lettering. The fans applaud, anticipating the entrance of the Superior One. After a few seconds…

 

 

BOOM!

 

 

An explosion of blue pyro and smoke lights up the arena as the song starts to rock out over the sound system! Tom Flesher emerges from the cloud of smoke, striding confidently to the ring as videos of his signature moves alternate in half-second clips with the words “SUPERIOR ONE,” “AWARD-WINNING,” “MAIN ATTRACTION” and “THE MAN.” Flesher pauses on the ramp, crossing his arms over his chest as the fans applaud him. They continue cheering for him as he falls out of his pose and walks to the ring, his SWF Title belt slung over the shoulder of his blue warm-up suit.

 

Flesher climbs the stairs to enter the ring and, making sure to wipe his feet off on the apron, steps into the ring. As the music fades away, Flesher positions himself in the center of the ring. Funyon makes his announcement…

 

“From Buffalo, New York, and weighing in at 213 pounds, the SWF World Champion… ‘The SUPERIOR ONE,’ TOM FLESHERRRRRRRRRRR!”

 

Flesher takes a bow, and quickly strips off his warm-up suit. Ced Ordonez, newly re-employed as a referee after his brief return to the ring, takes the belt from Flesher and holds it in the air. As Flesher stretches out, Ced shows the belt to Taylor, and then holds it up for all to see. After he hands it out of the ring, he calls for the bell.

 

 

DING DING DING!!!!!!

 

 

“This one’s underway,” says Bobby Riley as Tom and Erek make their way to the center. Tom drops into a defensive Greco-style stance. Before he can attack, though, Taylor slams a boot into Flesher’s stomach! The crowd issues an “OOOOOOH” as Taylor slaps Flesher across the face, bringing Tom back up to standing. With the champion taken momentarily off his game, Taylor whips him to the ropes and jumps up to nail him with a leg lariat. Flesher drops to the mat to avoid the move, and Taylor crashes down. Flesher gets back to his feet, and as Erek gets to his knees, Tom nails him with a mini-Yakuza kick! Taylor slides out of the ring, and the crowd applauds Flesher!

 

“Tom Flesher takes the upper hand early on,” says Cyclone Comet. “He shows that through judicious use of valour, one can fight against evil, the sticky black bubblegum that some vile knave left on the chair of Society!”

 

Stevens turns to Riley.

 

“So this is the guy they got to replace me?”

 

Taylor grabs a breather outside of the ring and slides back in. As soon as Erek is in the ring, Flesher starts stomping away at him, slamming his Doc Marten boots into the challenger over and over. With Taylor adequately tenderized, Flesher lifts him up and sends him to the corner with an Irish whip of his own! Taylor hits, and Flesher follows him in with a running avalanche! Taylor, however, ducks out of the way, and Flesher hits the top turnbuckle chest-first! As he bounces off holding his sternum, Taylor gets back up to his feet. He leaps into the air, dropkicking Flesher in the back and slamming him into the turnbuckle once again! The fans boo as Flesher staggers out of the corner, only to have Taylor clip his knee out from under him.

 

“Erek Taylor took a few lumps along the way,” says Bobby Riley, “but he’s still showing that he’s aware of what’s going on. He might be a little rusty, but he’s got more experience than Tom Flesher, and I think that’s starting to show.”

 

“And Flesher said he didn’t deserve the shot,” mutters Stevens. “Once Taylor gets the upper hand, let’s see how long Flesher’s new ethical theory holds out.”

 

“Citizen Slam,” says Comet, “I don’t know if you’re giving Flesher enough credit. He certainly has turned himself around over the past several weeks.”

 

“We’ll see about that. The Suicide King burned me, and I’m not going to let it happen again.”

 

Flesher hits the mat, and Taylor keeps his grip on the leg. He jacks it up, starting in on a half-crab, but Flesher quickly flails the leg and kicks Taylor away with his free foot. As Taylor steps back, Tom rolls over and gets to his knees. When Taylor moves back in, Tom springs off the mat and slams into him with a train wreck of a double-leg takedown! He drives Taylor back into the ropes. When he realizes that Taylor won’t go any further back, Flesher backs away. The Wonder Kid comes at him from the ropes, but Tom effortlessly steps forward and slams his palm into Taylor’s jaw to put him on the mat!

 

“Talk to the hand!” deadpans Comet. “Because believe me, the Superior One is not listening!”

 

“That’s the worst play-by-play I’ve ever heard,” says Riley.

 

“Well, Citizen Taylor didn’t exactly look good.”

 

“Flesher’s shoteis are lethal,” says Stevens. “I believe I showed that to Bobby once…”

 

“Yeah,” says Riley, remembering the time that Stevens whacked him upside the head to demonstrate the effectiveness of a palm strike. “Let’s, uh, not get into that again.”

 

Taylor shakes off the force of the blow, but by that point Flesher has dropped onto him and started to position himself to maul Taylor with strikes. Quickly, Taylor scoots back toward the ropes, grabbing the bottom cable and keeping Flesher from continuing his assault. Flesher dutifully gets up and backs away… only to have Taylor kick him in the groin!

 

“That was certainly unethical treatment of the testicles,” say Stevens and Comet in unison.

 

“Uh, Comet?” says Stevens. “You stole my description.”

 

“What can I say, Citizen Slam? It was good.”

 

Riley rolls his eyes. “I hope you guys don’t spend the whole match stroking each other up like that.”

 

“Funny how you jumped to that conclusion,” says Comet, and Grand Slam chuckles.

 

Flesher tries to stand up, but Taylor lariats him back to the mat! He covers Flesher, but Tom kicks out before Ced can even drop down for the count! Tom rolls to his stomach and spins out to face Taylor. Erek shoots in to try to grab Flesher and roll him to his back, but Flesher grabs his chin, wrenching it to the side, and slides an underhook in. He stands up, and, as the crowd applauds, he punches the underhook to throw Taylor to the mat with the Cement Job! This time, Ced is in position and counts

 

 

ONE!!!!!!

 

 

 

But Taylor quickly gets a shoulder up. Flesher keeps his lock on the chin and allows the challenger to roll to his stomach, at which point Flesher spins behind and takes a seat on Taylor’s back. Quickly, he slides his legs under the Erek’s arms and grabs his chin, pulling his head back in the camel clutch! The fans applaud as Flesher locks the hold on, stretching out the unpopular challenger.

 

“Very interesting strategy shown by the Superior Citizen,” says Comet. “While Flesher often does attack the neck, he just as often assaults the back or leg of the opposition. Flesher has been a bit of a stand-in for Citizen Katowski recently, and perhaps he chose his game plan this evening in order to soften the challenger up for the Boston Strangler?”

 

“That,” says Riley derisively, “would depend on Albert deciding he wants to fight back instead of just let Taylor mock him and have Flesher do his dirty work.”

 

“Flesher standing in for Strangler,” says Stevens thoughtfully. “That certainly was something courageous, but will Flesher continue fighting that way or will he simply revert to his old ways as soon as he sees the need to?”

 

“Well, you know how I feel,” says Riley. “He’s a bastard.”

 

Flesher sits back in the hold, pulling Taylor’s chin back and putting stress on his neck. He grinds it back, and Taylor grimaces in pain.

 

“I cannot possibly think of a better way to set up the Boston Massacre,” says Comet. “Or, for that matter, the Boilermaker.”

 

“I can,” says Riley. “Grab the ring bell and whack him over the head with it a couple of times. Don’t you think, Mark?”

 

“Honestly, Bobby, I’m starting to wonder if Flesher would.”

 

“You’re such a tool,” snorts Riley.

 

Flesher pulls Taylor’s head back further, trying to pull out an early submission. Taylor grimaces in pain, but he answers negatively every time Ced Ordonez asks if he wants to give up. Flesher tries for a few more seconds, but soon decides to cut his losses and releases Taylor. As Taylor starts back up to his feet, Flesher spins out and grabs him by the head, pulling him into a side headlock!

 

“Oh boy,” says Riley. “Here we go.”

 

Flesher tightens his grip on Taylor’s head, holding his head and twisting it against the direction Taylor wants to go. Erek tries to fight his way out of the side headlock, but Flesher continually steps around and forces his head in a different direction. As Taylor tries to escape once more, Flesher loads him up across one hip and flips him over, slamming Taylor to the mat for

 

 

ONE!!!!!!!

 

 

 

 

But no more, as Taylor rolls through and puts Flesher on his own back! Flesher, though, knows the move inside-out and continues rolling in order to keep from being stuck in a pinning predicament. He stands up, yanking Taylor by his neck and forcing him into bad position once more. He continues straining the Wonder Kid’s neck, and Taylor foolishly continues fighting.

 

“There’s that ring rust,” says Stevens. “Tom was definitely right when he said that Taylor’s a little rusty, but…”

 

“How is trying to fight a headlock ring rust?” says Riley. “I don’t see much other way out of it.”

 

“Frost and Strangler used to break it by backdropping Flesher,” says Stevens. “I’m not sure whether Erek is strong enough to do that. He usually relies on high-flying moves to weaken his opponent before he starts in on the submissions and suplexes.”

 

Flesher starts to tighten the hold once more, and Taylor tries to pull away. This time, Flesher simply releases him, and Taylor scrambles backwards off-balance! Flesher spins around, slamming his palm into Erek’s jaw with another sickening shotei! Taylor stumbles backwards, and Flesher moves with him into a corner. Flesher grabs his wrist and whips Taylor to the opposite corner. As the crowd bursts into cheers, Flesher charges in after him, popping his Doc Marten into the air to slam into Taylor with a Yakuza kick! Taylor, though, ducks the telegraphed boot to the face, and Flesher’s boot slams into the turnbuckle!

 

“Flesher went to the well two too many times,” chides Riley. “He missed the avalanche earlier and didn’t learn, so he got caught again with the Yakuza kick. What a tool.”

 

Taylor spins around, nailing Flesher with a back elbow and positioning him with his back to the corner. Taylor sprints in, catching the stunned Flesher by sprinting up his torso and slamming a kick into his chin! Flesher’s head snaps back as Taylor moonsaults off Flesher, landing beautifully on his feet in the center of the ring. Flesher staggers forward, and Taylor nails him with a precision kick to the right side, then one to the left side. Finally, as Flesher stands there with no idea what’s going on, Taylor slams into his chin with a surgically-precise superkick! The fans burst into a round of boos as Flesher collapses and Taylor takes control once more.

 

“Erek Taylor with the Wolf’s Frenzy!” shouts Bobby Riley. “Tom Flesher makes an ass of himself, and Erek Taylor helps him along!”

 

“Taylor hits a series of excellent kicks, and Flesher’s starting to fall behind,” says Mark.

 

Taylor covers Flesher, and Ced counts

 

 

ONE!!!!!!

 

 

 

 

TWO!!!!!!!!!

 

 

 

 

NO! Flesher kicks out, and Taylor acceptingly stands up. As Flesher starts to follow him up, Taylor fluidly grabs his head and arches back with a falling vertical suplex! Flesher hits the mat hard and tries to roll away.

 

“Tsk,” Riley says. “What a coward.”

 

Taylor follows him, though, and grabs him by the leg. With a glint in his eyes that seems half sadistic and half playful, the prodigy pulls Flesher back to the center of the ring and simply stands, holding him far away from the ropes. Flesher struggles to escape, and when it looks as though he might make it, Taylor jumps up and stomps on the back of his thigh! Flesher cries out in pain, and the crowd boos loudly.

 

“Now that was just unnecessary,” says Stevens sharply. “He’s just taunting Flesher now!”

 

“Taylor’s game plan is never as focused as something we see from Flesher,” says Riley. “That’s not necessarily a bad thing, because Taylor is willing to attack any part of Flesher’s body. In this case, you’ll see Taylor varying his game plan to keep Tom guessing, while Flesher’s got a little bit of tunnel vision.”

 

“Astute observation, Robert,” says Comet, surprised.

 

Taylor grabs Flesher and yanks him back to his feet. He shoves Flesher’s head between his knees, locking on a standing head scissors. He threads Flesher’s arm through his legs, securing a pumphandle. From there, he lifts Flesher up, looking for a pumphandle slam! Flesher feels the move coming and shifts his weight, rolling through as he goes over Taylor’s shoulder! When he lands on his feet, he wraps his arms around Taylor’s waist, and the fans rise to their feet as he starts to throw Taylor in a German suplex! Taylor, however, has other ideas. He hits a standing switch, quickly finding himself behind Flesher. With his much fresher body and natural speed advantage, Taylor is able to grab Flesher and German him in the blink of an eye! Flesher hits the mat with a thud, and Taylor bridges! Ced counts

 

 

ONE!!!!!!

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!!!!!!!!!

 

 

 

 

 

KICKOUT! Flesher rolls through, breaking the pin but still in bad shape after being dumped on his shoulders. He starts back to his feet, but Taylor slams into him with a dropkick to the face! Flesher falls backwards, and Taylor waits patiently for him to get up. The crowd boos Taylor’s cockiness as he taps his foot, hoping for the disoriented Flesher to stagger his way into a move. Flesher stands up, and sure enough, Taylor grabs him by the head and falls into a one-handed bulldog! From there, Flesher lays on the mat… but Erek Taylor doesn’t cover him!

 

“Why isn’t Taylor going for the cover?” says Riley. “I don’t know, this is probably a tactical mistake… but really, can you blame him for wanting to beat the hell out of Flesher? I mean, show me one person who doesn’t.”

 

“Two of us sitting right next to you, Bobby,” intones Grand Slam. “Flesher’s showing great heart in this match. He’s starting to convince me.”

 

“I mean people who COUNT,” sighs Riley.

 

Flesher reaches for the ropes, pulling himself to his feet. Taylor charges in behind him, slamming him in the back with a dropkick that nearly sends him over the top rope! Flesher holds on, though, and Taylor lands behind him. He grabs the World Champion by his shoulder and forcefully spins him around. Flesher tries to grab the top rope and hold on, but Taylor simply pulls him away and ducks down. He loads Flesher onto his shoulders in a fireman’s carry, and the crowd bellows with a chorus of boos! The crowd’s opinion doesn’t stop Taylor, though. In fact, it probably spurs him on even further as he drops to the side, slamming Flesher head-first to the mat with a Death Valley Driver! The crowd gasps as Flesher hits, then reaches up to hold his neck. Taylor rolls over, covering him for

 

 

ONE!!!!!!!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!!!!!!!!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

THREE!!!!!!!!! – NO! Ced points to Flesher’s foot draped over the bottom rope! The fans cheer, and Taylor stands up angrily. He turns to protest the count to Ordonez, but Ced stands firm, holding his ground that it Flesher’s leg was on the ropes before the three. Tom, meanwhile, rolls out of the ring to catch a quick breather. He gets a few precious seconds on the outside to catch his breath while Ordonez and Taylor shout it out, but after a moment Taylor looks out and sees Flesher. Without even finishing his sentence, Taylor sprints to the opposite side of the ring and flings himself off the ropes. He runs at Flesher and vaults over the top rope, flying through the air with a plancha! Flesher holds his arms out, shouting, “I’m gonna catch you!”

 

And with that, the crowd explodes.

 

Taylor falls through the air toward Flesher, who keeps motioning spastically like he’ll catch Taylor, until the very last second when he simply sidesteps. Taylor splatters onto the concrete like a bug hitting a windshield, and the crowd continues cheering! Flesher picks Taylor up and rolls him into the ring, then follows him back in. He pauses for a second to pose for the crowd, and draws a huge burst of cheers!

 

“What a damn showboat,” says Riley. “You’d think he actually DID something instead of just sidestepping a TRUE athlete.”

 

“Flesher’s evasion techniques are like no other,” says Comet. “The World Champion is the World Champion not only because he hits hard, but because he can avoid being hit himself.”

 

“I hate to say this,” says Stevens, “but it feels good being back behind the commentary table. I feel like a fan again, and I’m truly enjoying this match. The technique being shown by the World Champion and his challenger…”

 

“Tread lightly, Mark. You have to be an impartial commissioner.”

 

“And even an impartial commissioner can recognize technical excellence, and reward it,” says Comet.

 

Flesher drops down, grabbing the limp Taylor by the waist and lifting him to his feet. As Taylor tries to fight, Flesher tightens his grip and forces the air out of Taylor’s body by squeezing his ribs and stomach. After a second, Flesher arches backwards, bridging perfectly and throwing Taylor overhead onto his shoulder with a picture-perfect German suplex! He lets Taylor roll through, not pausing to pin him. Instead, he grabs Taylor by the wrist and whips him to the ropes. As Taylor rebounds, Flesher catches him and arches backwards, throwing him to the mat with a Railgun suplex! The crowd applauds as Taylor flies in a broad, sweeping arch through the air and finally comes to rest on his back! Flesher covers him for

 

 

ONE!!!!!!!

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THREE!!!!!!!! – NO! Taylor kicks out, and the crowd groans with disappointment.

 

“Taylor,” says Riley, “is much tougher than anyone gives him credit for. It’ll take a ridiculous amount of work to keep him down for the count… or maybe just a foreign object.”

 

“Don’t joke about that,” Stevens says sharply. “Let Flesher worry about his ethics and don’t try to influence the fans.”

 

“Oh, and you’re not influencing them? Think about it, you hypocrite!”

 

Flesher, disappointed as well, stands up. He lifts Erek Taylor to his feet and then whips him to the ropes, positioning himself for another Railgun suplex! Taylor, however, has other ideas. He springs off the mat and runs up Flesher’s body, snagging his head between his knees and flying backward with a hurricanrana! He cradles Flesher’s legs for

 

 

ONE!!!!!!!!!!!

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

KICKOUT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

 

“That was incredibly close,” says Cyclone Comet. “The Superior Citizen was almost caught with that hurricanrana, but he managed to break the pin before Ced Ordonez made the three-count!”

 

“I swear, that little bitch is counting slow! He doesn’t want Taylor to win!” Riley is, as usual, livid for no good reason.

 

Flesher rolls away and Taylor tries to follow him, but the beating he’s taken thus far and the energy expended for the frankensteiner catch up with him, and Flesher is able to throw him back with a palm strike! Taylor staggers, and Flesher spins him around, ducking his head under Taylor’s arm to set up a backdrop driver! The fans applaud as Flesher starts to lift the High Flying Prince, who tries desperately to stay on the mat. Flesher is nonetheless able to get him into the air, and so Taylor does the only thing he can do… he shifts his weight and rolls down Flesher’s back! The fans boo as Taylor pauses for a second to breathe after the feat, but Flesher instinctively throws an elbow back and nails Taylor in the jaw!

 

“Well, so much for that comeback,” chuckles Mark Stevens. “Taylor’s been around in the SWF long enough to know better than to drop his guard around a guy like Tom Flesher. Maybe that extended break hurt him more than I thought.”

 

“Yeah, and maybe you don’t know what you’re talking about,” says Riley. “Erek Taylor’s incredibly tough. He can take a few punches and still come back for more. Haven’t you ever watched this kid?”

 

Flesher grabs Taylor by the head and quickly drops down to the mat, throwing Taylor down with a snapmare! Flesher gets back to his feet, and just as Taylor starts to get his senses back, Tom jumps up and dropkicks him in the back of the head! Erek’s body snaps forward, and then he falls flat on his back! As the crowd applauds, Tom covers him for

 

 

ONE!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

THREE!!!!!!!!!!!! – NO!!!!!!!! Taylor kicks out! Flesher sighs, and rolls over, grabbing Taylor by the head. Knowing that he needs a big move to put the former Light Heavyweight Champion away, Flesher locks on a head chancery and lifts Taylor high into the air. With the Wonder Kid upside-down and absolutely vertical, Flesher decides to wait for a few seconds, so he stalls…

 

 

and stalls…….

 

 

 

and STAAAAAAAAAAAAALLS…….

 

 

 

until

 

 

 

BAM! He drops down to the mat, dumping Taylor straight down onto his head! The crowd explodes with cheers as Taylor lays on the mat, his chest moving but nothing else. Flesher rolls onto him, hooking the leg for

 

 

ONE!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

THREE!!!!!!!!!!!! – NO, KICKOUT!!!!!!!! The crowd cringes with disappointment as Erek Taylor some how, some way, manages to dig down and find the energy to kick out of Flesher’s brainbuster. Flesher, however, has one more trick up his sleeve. He stands up, grabs Taylor by the arm, and looks up to the top turnbuckle with a slight smile.

 

“Tonight, it seems, we’ll get to see the Boilermaker once again!” says Cyclone Comet. “Once Tom Flesher hits this, there’s absolutely no way that Erek Taylor will get up!”

 

“I dunno,” says Riley. “There’s always that odd incident, like Annie Eclectic.”

 

“That’s two shows in a row that you’ve mentioned Annie, Bobby,” says Mark Stevens. “Do you miss her or something?”

 

“Well, really, I just miss the Beezel suit.”

 

Flesher spins around and throws the stunned Taylor into the corner. As Taylor hits, Flesher sprints in, knowing that Taylor is too injured to duck under him again. Confidently, Tom throws an unbelievably stiff palm strike that nails Erek in the face with such force that he nearly flips backward over the cornerpost, and the crowd pops like a cherry on prom night! Flesher grabs Taylor by the waist and, in a show of strength, hoists him to the top rope. Then, before he starts his own climb, he jumps up, hitting Taylor with a leaping, spinning palm strike to keep him in place!

 

“And that’s it!” says Comet. “Ced-izen Ordonez might as well ring the bell right now and award the match to the World Champion, as there’s NO way Taylor’s going to kick out of the Boilermaker.”

 

“Well,” says Riley, “you can keep thinking that, but that doesn’t make it true.”

 

Flesher climbs up the turnbuckles, with the crowd cheering louder with each step up. By the time he reaches the top rope, the crowd is going absolutely crazy, and Flesher stops to acknowledge them. They continue cheering as Flesher locks on a front facelock and starts to pull Taylor into the air! Taylor, though, hooks his legs under the top rope! Flesher continues fighting for the brainbuster, but Taylor fights back and locks on a front facelock of his own! He stands up, and without the benefit of hooking the ropes and sitting comfortably on the top rope, Flesher has no way to keep Taylor from lifting him and throwing him forward in an avalanche-style front suplex! Flesher hits the mat face-first and lands holding his stomach. The fans boo as Taylor stands on the top rope, raising his arms. Flesher starts to get to his feet, and Taylor watches him intently. Then, at just the right moment, Taylor leaps off the turnbuckle and floats toward Flesher, nailing him in the head with a missile dropkick! Flesher falls to the mat, nearly flipping as he goes forward, and Taylor soaks in the booing of the crowd with a sadistic glee. He covers Flesher, laying across him for

 

 

ONE!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THREE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

 

NO!!!!!!! Flesher gets his shoulder up, and the fans go wild!

 

“How the hell did he manage that?” says Bobby Riley. “Taylor’s missile dropkick should have put him away for good!”

 

“Flesher,” says Stevens, “is just better than you give him credit for.”

 

Taylor, angry, stands up and starts stomping Flesher. Tom, however, starts to get to his feet, doing his best to ignore the stomping and kicking, and the fans begin to cheer him on. Taylor kicks Flesher in the chest, but Tom catches the leg and stands up. He rolls to the side, throwing Taylor to the mat with a dragon screw leg whip! The fans applaud as Flesher gets back to his feet and jumps, them comes down on Taylor with a stiff two-footed stomp! Taylor grabs his chest, and Flesher steps off to the side to grab a breather. He measures the distance, and as Taylor starts to get up, Flesher starts his charge! Taylor looks up, sees Flesher coming at him at an alarming speed and ready to take his head off with a Yakuza kick! With no other option, Taylor does the only thing he CAN do…

 

He pulls Ced Ordonez into the path, where the former Bemani Cross Wizard takes the brunt of the blow.

 

“This is ludicrous!” shouts Mark Stevens! “There’s no excuse for that kind of behavior from Erek Taylor!”

 

“Erek Taylor? What about Tom Flesher?! He’s the one that kicked Ced, for god’s sake!”

 

“Oh, shut your mouth!” says Comet. “You saw as well as both of us that Citizen Taylor, knave that he is, dragged good Cedric right into the path of the kick!”

 

“Stop trying to cover for your golden boy and admit that he was wrong!” says Riley.

 

Flesher, in shock, drops down to check on Ced, and absorbs a dropkick to the face from Taylor for his troubles! Flesher slumps down onto the mat, and Erek Taylor slides out of the ring. As the crowd continues booing, Taylor goes to the timekeeper’s table and grabs the ring bell! He rolls into the ring, throws the bell to the mat, and grabs Flesher!

 

“Oh, in the name of sweet Justice, no!” says Cyclone Comet.

 

Taylor ducks down, once again loading Flesher onto his shoulders in a fireman’s carry. The crowd gasps as Taylor positions himself just above the bell, ready to drop Flesher down in a deadly variation of the Death Valley Driver that nearly got the three-count earlier in the match!

 

“Erek Taylor is DESPICABLE!” shouts Mark Stevens. “I can’t believe he’s going to do this!”

 

However, before Taylor can spike Flesher on his head, the Superior One shifts his weight and slides down Taylor’s back! The crowd bursts into cheers as Flesher nails Taylor in the back of the head with a shotei, then grabs him around the waist, ducks his head under Taylor’s arm and throws him head-first to the mat with a vicious backdrop driver! Flesher stands up, looks at Taylor… and then looks at the bell.

 

“Oh, god, no!” says Stevens. “No, I can’t believe he had me fooled!”

 

“That’s just because you’re a tool, Grand Slam. Give up on Flesher… he’ll never change.”

 

Flesher ducks down, his back to the announcers’ table. He picks up Taylor, loading him up onto his shoulders in a torture rack. The crowd goes utterly silent as Flesher prepares to put Erek Taylor’s career to an end by executing a Burning Hammer onto the ring bell!

 

With that, Grand Slam stands up.

 

“No, Citizen Slam! No, don’t go down to the ring! It will only end badly,” pleads Comet.

 

“Meh,” shrugs Riley. “Maybe we can get King back as our commish after all.”

 

Ignoring the warnings, Grand Slam starts hobbling from the table down the aisle toward the ring. He moves at an amazing rate for a man whose knee had just been blown out, but only because of the intensity he feels.

 

The anger at being betrayed by a man he’d been fooled into trusting.

 

Flesher stares at the ring bell, still not seeing Grand Slam. However, as Taylor begins to squirm, Flesher shakes his head. He kicks the ring bell out of the way and spins a quarter-turn and then falls to the side, dropping Taylor’s head unimpeded onto the mat! The fans burst into cheers as Taylor crumbles to the mat, collapsing like a slinky! Flesher sits up, seeing Grand Slam for the first time. He looks out at the commissioner, and issues a genuine smile. Flesher rolls over onto Taylor, making sure to hook the leg, and has to wait only a few moments before the groggy Ced Ordonez comes over and begins to count.

 

 

ONE!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THREE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

 

…

 

…

 

…

 

Ced looks around, not hearing a bell. He sees the ring bell on the mat and picks it up, then shrugs and swings the bell against the ringpost.

 

 

THUNK THUNK THUNK!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

 

“The winner of the match,” says Funyon, “and STILL SWF World Champion, ‘The Superior One,’ TOM FLESHER!!!!!!!!!!!!”

 

Ced hands Flesher his title belt as medical personnel swarm into the ring to check on Taylor. Flesher, meanwhile, slides out of the ring. He walks up to Grand Slam and, stopping directly in front of him, offers his right hand. Stevens, looking the World Champion in the eye, shakes his hand and then raises his arm! The fans cheer as Flesher holds the SWF World Championship over his head with the other arm!

 

“Well, fans,” says Cyclone Comet, “say what you will, but Tom Flesher has proven to the most important man in the SWF that he has indeed turned over a new leaf.”

 

“Ugh… it almost makes me sick,” says Bobby Riley.

 

“And now that Tom Flesher and Mark Stevens have learned to trust each other, we can only wonder what’s going to happen to the likes of Bastion and Va’aiga! But first, we can only hope that Citizen Slam sees fit to give the Champ a well-deserved night off.”

 

“As long as I don’t have to see him,” spits Riley. “Blah.”

 

“And that, friends, will do it for tonight’s broadcast! Make sure to tune in for SWF Lockdown next week!”

 

===

 

SWF Storm, October 18, 2003.

© White Apple Productions. All rights reserved.

The Smarks Wrestling Federation: “Raising Workrate by Typing Faster.”

[the.weej 0]

Results!

 

Tom and Mark exchange words...

 

Va'aiga enlightens us on his reasons for turning...

 

A familiar face returns with a challange...

 

The Boston Strangler v. Xero

-Damn Erek Taylor.

 

And poor Wildchild, on that note.

 

Two old friends have a conversation.

 

Ominous telegram...

 

Thoth v. Jay Dawg

-Uh, okay.

 

Speaking of ominous...

 

Ejiro and Johnny have a small run-in.

 

Flesher interviews Hardy...

 

Sinquizition v. Justice and Rule

-Justice & Rule become only the second team to hold the tag titles AS a team.

 

Va'aiga re-enforces a few points made at the top of the show...

 

"The Sacred One" Andrew Blackwell v. Dace Night

-Blackwell retains!

 

Danny Williams appears to make a statement, and lets Va'aiga know he should stop writing cheques with his mouth that his ass might not be able to cash.

 

Mark drops by Tom's dressing room just before the main event, to tell him how sorry he is he had no faith in him, and finally...

 

"The Superior One" Tom Flesher © v. Erek Taylor

-Yeah, you should probably read it.

 

Phew. Okayish show match-wise, made up with by an abundance of promos. Card will be up shortly. You've got about 10 minutes to get me match requests, if you haven't already.