CLUSTERFUCK!

[Guest Suicide King]

CLUSTERFUCK 2004

AN SWF PAY-PER-VIEW EXTRAVAGANZA!

Sunday February 1st, matches due at 8 pm!

Live from the Gund Arena in Cleveland, Ohio!

Theme song “Only the Strong" by Flaw!

 

FEATURING…

 

"The Superior One" Tom Flesher vs. The Wildchild

in a Ladder Match for the ultimate cruiserweight bragging rights!

 

These two men are undoubtedly among the finest athletes our federation has ever produced. Each man has been challenged by the Commissioner to examine themselves and the other to see if they could answer who was the superior cruiserweight. Well, each man came to a slightly different conclusion to say the least. Their roads have led them to this point, where the issue will be decided once and for all. But what is the mysterious incentive that the Commissioner has promised to the winner?

 

 

Sacred vs. Landon "La Cucaracha" Maddix

face off! Two champions enter, and one unified champion will leave!

 

Landon Maddix became the first and final SJL Unified World Champion this past week in this very arena. As promised, the SJL champion will have his chance to face the SWF United Stated Champion, one very upset Andrew Blackwell! It seems that Mr. Blackwell had his heart set on entering the Clusterfuck, but this upstart and the "powers that be" have conspired to keep him from the World Title! Maddix has his work cut out for him as he faces one of the most decorated champions in SWF history. But Maddix has been shown to have hidden reserves of skill and character, and Blackwell must face the very real possibility that this "n00b" can take him to the proverbial cleaners! And the winner will be the first ever USJL unified Champion!

 

 

Twenty SWF Superstars

THE CLUSTERFUCK BATTLE ROYAL!

 

 

 

And the Main Event…

 

"Deathwish" Danny Williams vs. Va'aiga

in a final end to an unholy rivalry!

 

A long and storied friendship, followed by a violent and troubled hatred... jealousy has festered in the big black heart of the Maori Badass, consuming what used to be a mutual respect between himself and the leader of the Unholy Trinity. Danny is no one's fool though, and if the only way to stop this threat is to face it down then he'll be damned if he lets mercy or friendship cloud his judgement. He will need all his skill and righteous rage to defeat the Boo Yah tonight. At least each man's stablemates will be exhausted from participating in the Clusterfuck...

[Guest Suicide King]

BOOM!

BOOM!

BOOM!

 

The stage area erupts in a pyrotechnical explosion, and Flaw’s “Only The Strong” blares throughout the arena’s sound system, barely audible over the screams of more than twenty thousand fans.

 

“Welcome, everyone, to Cleveland, Ohio,” says an exuberant Cyclone Comet, as a camera pans the crowd, causing the fans to cheer even louder, knowing that they’ve made it on television. “Welcome to the Gund Arena! Welcome to S-W-F Clusterfuck! We’d like to welcome the capacity crowd of twenty thousand, eight hundred and thirty-five that were able to join us here tonight, as well as the millions of you watching this pay per view event around the world! Alongside my broadcast partner, Bobby Riley, I am CYCLOOOOOOOOOOONE COMET!”

 

Riley scowls at Comet. “I could slap you! Your routine needs to be carbon-dated, it’s so old!”

 

Nonplussed, Comet continues with his introductions. “We’ve got a TREMENDOUS evening of action planned here tonight, folks! We’re going to see the United States Champion, Sacred, taking on the SJL Heavyweight Champion, Landon Maddix!”

 

“Landon Maddix will be recognized in history as the last man to ever hold the JL Heavyweight Title,” adds Riley, as the television screen switches to a graphic of Sacred posing with the US Title, standing alongside Landon Maddix, who is posing with the SJL Heavyweight Title. “That title has been the springboard to success for many current SWF superstars, the likes of which include Judge William Hearford, Ejiro Fasaki, Tom Flesher and HVT! And Landon Maddix is going to use the JL Title as a springboard to launch himself to SWF success when he shocks the world here tonight by taking the United States Championship from Andrew Blackwell!”

 

Suddenly, the screen switches to a graphic of Danny Williams, proudly displaying the World Heavyweight Championship, standing across from a ferocious-looking Va’aiga Tu’ipulotu, as computer-generated streamers fall from the top of the screen behind them. “We’ll also see the World Heavyweight Champion, ‘Deathwish’ Danny Williams, taking on the Maori Menace, Va’aiga,” continues Comet, “in an ‘All Japan’ match for the World Heavyweight Championship!”

 

“Danny Williams is a guy who considers himself an American ambassador for the puroresu style,” says Riley, “but, his former apprentice, Va’aiga, has challenged him to a match that embodies the spirit of Japanese wrestling. For Va’aiga to actually request a match that would clearly seem to favor the Champion, he has to have something planned, and I wouldn’t be surprised to see him leave Cleveland tonight as the new World Heavyweight Champion!”

 

“And we’ll also see eight of the up-and-coming stars from the SJL test their mettle against twelve of the fiercest competitors in the SWF in our annual over-the-top battle royal, the Clusterfuck itself!”

 

As the screen switches to a graphic of the twenty Clusterfuck contestants, each in various poses, Riley chimes in, “And with a shot at the World Heavyweight Title at From the Fire on the line, you had better believe that all twenty men will bring their very best to the ring tonight! I gotta tell you, Comet, as much as I want Michael Craven to win this thing, YOUR commissioner, ‘Grand Slam’ Mark Stevens, has stacked the deck against him, and then cut the cards when he wasn’t looking! I’ve got to go with Charlie Matthews to win this thing; he’s probably the best wrestler in the entire field after Craven, and he’s got the good fortune of having number twenty, which gives him a decided advantage! I’m picking Charlie Matthews to win the Clusterfuck, and go on to From The Fire to get a shot at the World Champion!”

 

“All of that to come on what promises to be a spectacular evening,” concludes Comet, “but we’re going to start you off with a real humdinger! Years ago, when Tom Flesher first made his way into the SWF, before reaching the pinnacle of professional wrestling by becoming the SWF World Heavyweight Champion, he made a name for himself in the Light-Heavyweight division, impressing fans the world over with his mastery of technical wrestling, and establishing himself as a standout talent by defeating another SWF legend, El Luchadore Magnifico, to become the SWF Light-Heavyweight Champion, and later using that success to propel himself all the way to the very top of the mountain, becoming the SWF World Heavyweight Champion only a few months later!”

 

<< As Comet is talking, the screen is showing clipped highlights of Flesher’s days as a competitor in the Light-Heavyweight division, culminating with his victory over ELM in the Ultimate Submissions Match at Ground Zero ’02 to capture the Light-Heavyweight Title. >>

 

Riley gets a wistful look in his eyes. “Those were the days, Comet! Flesher was someone you could really admire back in those days; a dynamic, virile, god of a man, who was the envy of all who knew him! I tell you, Comet, I get misty-eyed just thinking about it!”

 

Comet looks at Bobby uncomfortably. “Well, while I’m sure your eyes aren’t the only part of you that gets wet thinking about Tom Flesher, I’ll just carry on… Anyway, ladies and gentlemen, as I was saying, Tom Flesher had reached the peak of the professional wrestling industry, and was content to leave his past as a Light-Heavyweight competitor behind him… until the emergence of a young superstar by the name of the Wildchild!”

 

<< The screen now begins to display various highlights of Wildchild’s JL and WF career, focusing heavily on his more acrobatic maneuvers. >>

 

“Wildchild is a rare breed of wrestler in the SWF,” continues Comet. “He relies more heavily on his speed and athleticism to win than anything else, and his signature acrobatic maneuvers quickly established him as one of the most popular wrestlers in SWF history. Some, in fact, have called him the greatest Light-Heavyweight wrestler ever in the SWF, something that Tom Flesher has recently taken exception to!”

 

<< Flashback to SWF Storm, January 16, 2004:

 

“That belt meant a lot to me, but what the belt signified was even more important. I was the best cruiser in the SWF from the night I beat Mags until the night that I took a dive for Ann Onita. Tonight, if you went out there and asked a thousand people in the audience who the best cruiser in the SWF is, I guarantee that nine hundred of them would say Wildchild’s name.”

 

Hardy looks at Flesher and asks, “Does that mean…?”

 

“Absolutely. I’ll be in the ring against Wildchild at Clusterfuck. Why? Because I’m still the best cruiser in the SWF, and I want the bragging rights.”

 

End Flashback >>

 

“Bobby,” says Comet, “Flesher wants to remind people that he was a great cruiserweight wrestler before he went on to success in the heavyweight division, and I think he may feel that he has something to prove!”

 

“He absolutely has something to prove,” agrees Riley. “Even though he likes Wildchild personally, he feels disrespected by all of the praise that has been showered upon him. It’s gotta be a hard pill to swallow when you hear about some ‘Johnny-Come-Lately,’ who hasn’t achieved twice the success that you have, being held in higher esteem, just because he’s a little flashier.”

 

“The commissioner seems to sympathize with that point of view,” says Comet, “because he has ordered that a match be held between the two men, to determine who is, in fact, the best cruiserweight in the world of professional wrestling. As you can see, suspended high above the ring is a briefcase. No one knows what’s in that briefcase but the commissioner himself, but for either of these two to win, they’re going to have to climb up a ten-foot ladder and bring that briefcase down!”

 

“It’s probably money,” ponders Bobby aloud. “I’ll bet it’s ten-thousand in cash, or something! Or, maybe it’s a contract with a guaranteed title shot!”

 

“No matter what’s enclosed in that briefcase,” finishes Comet, “you can be assured that both Tom Flesher and the Wildchild will give it their all in this match, just so that they will finally know in their own minds, who is truly the best cruiserweight in the SWF! Without any further ado, let’s get into the ring, and our own Funyon!”

 

 

 

“At the count of three

I want everybody in the place to be

To make some noise if ya’ down with me

One, two, three!

 

“Hit me with the horns, Tony!”

 

“Wait a minute,” says a bewildered Comet. “What’s going on here?”

 

“Keep makin' noise, keep makin' noise… yeah!”

 

The crowd goes crazy as the spotlight shines down on stage right, to reveal DJ extraordinaire DJ Kool.

 

“Who the hell is that,” shouts Riley.

 

“I’m not quite sure,” replies Comet, quickly thumbing through his notes, “but according to my notes, I think it’s DJ Kool!”

 

“Well,” asks Riley, “What the hell as he doing here? This is a wrestling event, not a rap concert!”

 

Meanwhile, up on the stage, DJ Kool continues to get the crowd pumped up with his club hit, “Let Me Clear My Throat.”

 

“Wassup, Cleveland!”

 

YAAAAAAAH!

 

“Are ya’ll ready to have a good time?”

 

YAAAAAAAH!

 

“Are ya’ll ready to get down?”

 

“YAAAAAAH!

 

“Yeah! Me and my man are here to show love to dat Wild ass Child, but we want to get ya’ll pumped up right quick! We want y’all to show Wildchild some love!”

 

“I guess that explains it,” says Comet. “They must be here at the request of the Wildchild!”

 

“Now check this out:

 

“Ah huh, ah huh, ah (God Damn)

 

Yeah, rock to the rhythm of the funky rhyme

So I can get this in just one more time

To the beat and ya don't quit

It's that ol' skool rap with that new skool hit

Peter Piper picked a pepper but Kool got the Run

And I can still rip up the house

Every Goddamn time I get on the mic, I go crazy

Peace out to Celo, Flex, and Doug Lazy

I bet 'cha never knew but now ya know

I'm the undisputed king of this disco

And I never let the mic, might not tire me no more

Cuz DJ Kool rip up the whole damn floor…

 

“Now I'ma rap a rhyme with the greatest of ease

And swing it like the man on the flying trapeze

And if you don't like it you grab on these

And now I need some help from the maestro please…

 

“Jam, Ha! So look it here check the flavor of the rhythm

I wrote and while I got a chance here

Let me clear my throat oh, have mercy babe, ha!

I hope ya don't mind, let me clear my throat

I need these monitors right here

Music and the monitors, and it goes a little something

Like this here ah huh ah huh ah

 

“Now if y'all wanna party like we do

If y'all wanna party like us, lemme hear ya say

Ah ah ah ah ah, if y'all wanna party like we do

If y'all wanna party like us lemme hear ya say

Ah ah ah ah ah ah ah ah

Now when I say uh, you say ah

Uh (crowd) Uh (crowd)

And now when I say hey, you say ha

Hey (crowd) hey (crowd)

Now when I say uh, you say ah

Uh (crowd) Uh (crowd)

Now when I say hey you say ha, hey (crowd)

Now when I say freeze you just freeze one time

When I say freeze y'all stop on a dime

When I say freeze you just freeze one time

When I say freeze y'all stop on a dime…

 

 

 

“FREEZE!”

 

But, instead of leading into the song’s signature break, DJ Kool freaks the crowd with some ill scratches as the lights cut out, before spinning into a track that the crowd quickly recognizes:

 

“ATTENTION!

 

“ALL YOU NIGGAS!

 

“ALL YOU BITCHES!

 

“TIME TO PUT DOWN THE CRISTAL,

TIME TO TAKE OFF THE ICE FOR A MINUTE…

 

“TIME TO THROW A LITTLE MUD IN THIS MOTHERFUCKER!”

 

The crowd explodes as DJ Kool begins to spin “Let’s Get Dirty.” The darkened arena becomes frantic with anticipation as a solitary spotlight focuses itself onto center stage, flashing off and on intermittently in rhythm with the beat of the music.

 

“I think we’re about to get dirty, Bobby,” says Comet excitedly. “That music can only mean one thing!”

 

The spotlight suddenly remains steady as the Bahama Bomber springs out from behind the curtain, side-by-side with the performer who recorded his theme music, Redman!”

 

“Yo.. Yo, gimme some room, I'm throwin' elbows,

Timberland boots, Air Force and shell-toes, who the fuck is them?

 

“If I gotta pay to get in the club,

I'ma go pop the trunk and turn the street volume up to ten!

 

“I ain't on the guest list, I ain't V.I.P,

I snuck in the exit, learned to D-I-P!

 

“My dress code is all black when I'm makin the moves,

Similar to the new Playstation 2!

 

“I can't help it if the club only packin' a G,

And the fire marshal wanna shut it down in 3,

And you ballin' ass niggaz, who’s dressed to kill,

For the hoes showin' the toes with extra heels (man!)

 

“I gotta get in, I drove here

With a car-LOAD of bitches charged on Belvedere!”

 

“My niggaz hit the cells if the line is thick,

So I drive the 500, through the door of the bitch!”

 

 

[DJ Kool]

“Yo Red, wassup man?

Aiy, they ain't tryin to let you in the club?

Yo, DJ Kool to the rescue!

We gon' break this joint down!

Aiyyo.. a-huh, a-huh, ahh!”

 

Redman gives Wildchild a pound before he heads down to the ring, as he and DJ Kool sing the break:

 

[Chorus: DJ Kool + Redman]

If you pumpin’ this one in your truck, (let's get dirty)

Say let's get dirty! (l-l-let's get dirty)

If you really don't give a WHAT? (l-l-let's get dirty)

Say let's get dirty! (l-l-let's get dirty)

Everybody get your hands up, (l-l-let's get dirty)

Say let's get dirty! (l-l-let's get dirty)

If you ain't come to party, SHUT UP! (l-l-let's get dirty)

Say let's get dirty!

 

“How about this,” exclaims Comet, as Wildchild trots down the ramp towards the ring, slapping hands with the fans. “Wildchild getting Redman and DJ Kool to come out here to the Gund Arena to perform his ring music live! This is, without question, the most trouble that he’s ever gone through just to get down to the ring! That tells me that he’s really pumped up about this match, and wanted to make sure it had a big time feel to it!”

 

“Well, I don’t know how much he had to spend to get Redman down here just for this,” wonders Bobby. “Maybe he gave him a bag of that Bahama Gold…”

 

“WILL YOU STOP!”

 

“But, at any rate,” continues Riley, “he’s going to look foolish after he goes through all this trouble just to lose!”

 

“Ladies and gentlemen,” says Funyon, “the following contest is a Ladder Match! The only way to win is by using one of the ladders placed at ringside to reach the briefcase being suspended above the ring! Introducing first, one-half of the SWF Tag Team Champions, from Morgan’s Bluff, Andros, in the Commonwealth of the Bahamas, weighing two hundred fourteen pounds, the WIIIIILDCHIIIIILD!”

 

Wildchild leaps onto the middle rope facing the crowd, and waving his hands jubilantly. He turns around briefly to look up towards the rafters at the briefcase, and then turns back towards the crowd, his trademark grin lighting up his face, and points behind him up towards the briefcase with one hand as he points to his own chest with his other hand.

 

“Wildchild certainly looks confident,” notes Comet. “He looks like he’s on his best game tonight, and he’s going to have to be to defeat his opponent!”

 

The spotlight is cut out from the stage, leaving the arena dark yet again, and Redman’s voice slowly fades out, to quickly replaced the mellow electric guitar of the Philosopher Kings, and the crowd begins to cheer with renewed energy as the SmarkTron becomes lit with the words:

 

“SUPERIOR ONE”

 

“AWARD WINNING”

 

“MAIN ATTRACTION”

 

“THE MAN”

 

Suddenly, the music cuts out for a split-second, allowing Gerald Eaton’s voice to be heard clearly, as he confidently states:

 

 

“I AM THE MAN!”

 

 

BOOM!

 

“I am the man, baby,

That's what I am,

I'm a straight shooter,

With a master plan!

 

“I am the man, baby, that's why I'm here,

I am the man, yeah, I am the man!”

 

The Superior One steps out from behind the curtain at walks out to the top of the ramp, where he crosses his arms and soaks up the crowd’s adulation.

 

“His opponent,” says Funyon,” from Buffalo, New York, weighing two hundred thirteen pounds, the Superior One… TOOOOOOOM FLESHER!”

 

“Tom looks extremely confident tonight,” remarks Comet, as Flesher heads down towards the ring.

 

“And why shouldn’t he,” asks Riley. “He’s a two-time former World Heavyweight Champion, and has been facing the very best in the world of professional wrestling for over a year! Wildchild, on the other had, has spent a good portion of the year on the other end of the card, facing FAR inferior competition, and is still trying to regain momentum following the crushing loss of the Hardcore Title to Janus late last year!”

 

“I think that some of the individuals that Wildchild has competed against would take exception to that statement,” replies Comet. “Some of the superstars that Wildchild defeated during his reign as Hardcore Champion include John Duran, Terrence Bailey, Dace Night, Charlie Matthews, and Va’aiga, who will get his shot at the World Title here tonight, so it’s not exactly like he’s been padding his record with developmental talent, or anything!”

 

“Be that as it may,” continues Riley, “I’m still going with Flesher to win this match; he’s the more well-rounded wrestler, and he’s got the experience factor. Plus, conditioning may be a problem for Wildchild: after all, he hasn’t been in a singles match in over a month; if he isn’t able to put Flesher away quickly, then he’s subject to lose what little advantage he has!”

 

Flesher climbs into the ring, his focus now devoted to his objective as he stares up at the suspended briefcase. He takes a step in towards the center of the ring, as does Wildchild, as referee Matthew Kivell shouts out the match instructions to both men.

 

“By Thor’s Hammer,” marvels Comet, “you can feel the tension in the air; the crowd is abuzz with excitement in anticipation of this match; they know that it’s going to be something special!”

 

Flesher and Wildchild look into each other’s eyes, nodding at each other in acknowledgement, before stepping backwards as Kivell signals the timekeeper to officially start the match:

 

DING! DING! DING!

 

“Bell’s gone,” says Comet, “and we’re underway! Time to find out who the best cruiserweight really is!”

 

Tom and Wildchild circle the ring tentatively, each looking for the opportunity to gain the first advantage, and finally deciding to meet in the center of the ring in a collar-and-elbow tie-up, with Flesher muscling Wildchild into a corner. Kivell asks for a clean break and gets it, and as Tom backs out of the corner, the Caribbean Cruiser surprises him with a single-leg takedown, knocking him onto his back.

 

“Nice single-leg by the Wildchild,” notes Comet. “And he takes it right into a leg grapevine!”

 

“I have to admit,” says Riley, “he caught me by surprise with that one, and it looks like he surprised Flesher, too!”

 

Despite being taken off-guard by the takedown, Tom, experienced mat technician that he is, rolls through the grapevine, negotiating his way over towards the edge of the ring, where he grabs the ropes. Kivell again asks for a clean break, and again gets it.

 

“Nice ring awareness by Citizen Flesher to make it to the ropes,” says Comet.

 

“I’m a little disappointed by that,” spits Riley. “Here I was hoping that the disrespect that Flesher has received over this whole ‘best cruiserweight’ business would jolt him back into his old self, but that was just disgusting! Reaching for the ropes like a coward, when the old Flesher would have reversed it and tried to rip Wildchild’s knee off!”

 

“No sense in over-exerting himself this early in the match,” replies Comet. “There’s no telling how long this match could go, and there’s no sense in burning any energy trying to get out of that move when you could just as easily reach the ropes!”

 

With both men back on their feet, they approach each other again, ostensibly for another tie-up, with Flesher taking the initiative this time, grabbing Wildchild by the wrist and winding his arm into an arm wringer. Wildchild walks in a circle around Tom trying to free himself, and then dives forward, rolling onto his shoulders to alleviate the pressure of the arm wringer and to his knees. In one fluid motion, he rolls forward again, using Flesher to support his weight as he nips up, freeing himself from the arm wringer, and then turns into Tom’s body before hooking his arm underneath that of Flesher’s, and dropping his weight abruptly towards the mat, pulling Tom overhead with a textbook armdrag. Flesher tries to rolls over onto his stomach, but Wildchild maintains his grip on the Superior One’s wrist and rolls along with him, pulling Tom’s arm backwards into an armbar.

 

“Wildchild with an impressive display of mat wrestling early in this match,” says Comet. “I don’t think that Tom was prepared for this!”

 

“Well, Wildchild may be able to take an early advantage with the mat wrestling, on sheer surprise factor,” counters Riley, “but the longer the two of them go on like this, the more this match will favor Flesher. He can’t keep up with Wildchild in an aerial contest, so he’s probably the happiest person in this arena that the match has started out like this; despite the fact that Wildchild caught him unprepared, there’s no way that he’ll be able to keep up with Flesher on the mat for any extended period of time, and the longer Wildchild strays from his strengths, the less likely he is to have a chance to win!”

 

Maintaining control of the arm, Wildchild floats behind Tom into a hammerlock and cups him underneath the chin with his free arm, pulling him to his feet. Once back to a vertical base, Tom ducks behind Wildchild and reverses into a hammerlock of his own, before releasing it suddenly and spinning Wildchild around, grabbing him by the hair and flipping him down to the canvas with a snapmare takeover. Before Wildchild can react to his predicament…

 

 

BAM!

 

… A size 13 Doc Marten covers his face as Tom slams his boot into the Caribbean’s head! Wildchild rolls to his knees and rubs his nose gingerly as he looks up at Flesher, who looks back with a shrug and a ‘you would have done the same thing’ expression on his face.

 

“Flesher showing an aggressive side,” notes Comet. “Perhaps telling Wildchild that he’s not above mixing it up to win this match!”

 

As Wildchild gets back to his feet, Flesher charges towards him to deliver a knee lift, and then further presses his advantage by head butting him from behind, but the Tropical Tumbler turns towards Flesher and stuns him with a rake of the eyes. As Tom stumbles backwards holding his eyes, Wildchild shoots in for a double-leg takedown, lifting him off the canvas, and dumping him unceremoniously on his unprotected face. Wildchild leaps into the air before the Superior One can recover…

 

 

WHAM!

 

 

… And splashes into his back with a running Senton! Wildchild springs to his feet and runs towards the edge of the ring, bouncing off the ropes as Flesher raises up to his knees…

 

THWACK!

 

… And blasting him in the face with a running punt kick that knocks the Main Attraction onto his back! Flesher rolls out to the arena floor as Wildchild drops into a ready crouch, waiting for next offensive opportunity.

 

“Wildchild with a surprising display of aggression,” reflects Comet. “I’d say that this match means at least as much to him as it does to Tom!”

 

Flesher paces along the side of the ring, trying to clear his bell from that stiff punt kick by Wildchild, when he sees the Bahama Bomber stealthily approaching the edge of the ring, and quickly dives back in underneath the bottom rope to avoid any possible flying attack.

 

“Smart move by Flesher,” notes Riley. “Get it back into the ring, try and lure Wildchild into some more mat wrestling, and keep his feet on the ground for as long as possible!”

 

Tom returns to his feet and the two competitors circle each other once more, each man appearing to be much more focused now. Wildchild takes the first steps towards Flesher, but the Superior One surprises him with a kneelift into his midsection. With Wildchild bent over at the waist, Tom wraps his arm around the Caribbean’s head, trapping him in a front facelock. He then grabs Wildchild by the tights with his free hand, and attempts to lift him into the air with a vertical suplex, but the Bahama Bomber grapevines his leg with that of Flesher’s to block. A second suplex attempt leads to a second block, and then Wildchild succeeds in countering, lifting Flesher over head for a vertical suplex of his own. Tom, however, wriggles free, and lands on his feet behind Wildchild and wrapping his arms around the Caribbean’s waist, pushing him towards the edge of the ring.

 

Wildchild wraps his arms underneath the top rope and flings himself backwards, shrugging Flesher off of him, who rolls backwards on his shoulders and back to his feet. He drops back down to the canvas as Wildchild charges towards him and runs over the top of him, with Flesher popping back to his feet as the Human Hurricane bounces off the ropes. The Main Attraction loops his arm underneath that of Wildchild and lifts him off the canvas, but the Bahama Bomber swings through the hiptoss attempt, positioning himself in front of Flesher without ever touching the mat and planting his feet into Tom’s bread basket, swinging his free arm around Flesher’s head as he falls backwards, rolling the Superior One fluidly off the canvas and sending him flying through the air with a monkey flip! Tom rolls immediately to his feet as Wildchild nips back up, and the two turn around to face each other as the crowd rises to give them a standing ovation!

 

“I don’t know whether or not you’ve noticed, Bobby,” says Comet, “but although Tom and Wildchild continue to engage in a mostly scientific contest at this stage, the pace of this match has just picked up a few notches!”

 

“I have noticed, Comet,” agrees Riley, “and I have to tell you that if it gets much faster, the pace is going to begin to favor Wildchild. Flesher should try and get Wildchild onto his back with a takedown and keep himself from getting drawn into the kind of match that Wildchild wants.”

 

Tom charges towards Wildchild, but the Bahama Bomber sidesteps him, allowing him to continue on to the edge of the ring, and loops his arm underneath that of the Main Attraction as he bounces off the ropes to deliver a hiptoss, but Flesher puts on the brakes, blocking the attempt. Far from discouraged, however, Wildchild reaches across his body with his free arm and smacks Flesher in the stomach, doubling him over just enough to allow the Human Hurricane to drape his leg over the top of Tom’s neck. The weight of Wildchild’s leg causes Flesher to pop up suddenly in anticipation of a Caribbean Cutter, which turns out to be precisely what Wildchild was counting on, as he uses the Superior One’s unwitting assist to propel himself into the air and lock his legs around Flesher’s neck on the way down, arching backwards as he sends Tom hurtling through the air with a flying headscissors! Wildchild rushes at Flesher as he rolls to his knees…

 

 

THWACK!

 

 

… But the Superior One suddenly lunges upwards, stopping Wildchild dead in his tracks with a stiff Shotei!

 

“Nice Shotei by Flesher,” notes Riley. “Wildchild never saw it coming, and ran right into it!”

 

BAM!

 

As Wildchild staggers backwards from the force of the palm strike, Tom pops back to his feet and presses his advantage, doubling the Caribbean over with a sharp kick to the midsection! He wraps his arms around Wildchild’s waist and lifts him up for a gutwrench, but the Bahama Bomber manages to roll off of Tom’s shoulder and hook his arm underneath that of his opponent, surprising him with a nice inverted armdrag takeover!

 

Both men get back to their feet and Wildchild avoids another charge from Flesher with a matador-esque dodge, dropping down to the canvas as Tom bounces off the ropes to allow him to pass overhead, and springing immediately back to his feet as he rebounds a second time, scooping him up for a possible tilt-a-whirl, but the Main Attraction surprises Wildchild, the crowd, and perhaps even himself by wrapping his legs around Wildchild’s neck and flipping him through the air with a spectacular flying headscissors!

 

Wildchild rolls back to his feet and charges at Flesher, who avoids him deftly with a leapfrog. Tom plants his hands onto Wildchild’s hips as he bounces off the ropes and presses him into the air, but the Human Hurricane sails higher into the air than Flesher anticipated, and he wraps his legs around Tom’s neck before arching backwards, pulling him through the air with a scintillating rana! Both men roll to their feet and immediately spring into the air, both seeking a dropkick, and both men fall back to the canvas without finding their mark. They each pull themselves into a kneeling position and stare at each other in an apparent standoff! The crowd comes to their feet once again to applaud the effort by these two young superstars!

 

“Tom Flesher and Wildchild trading headscissors before coming back into a standoff, and the pace of this match is rapidly becoming one to Wildchild’s favor!”

 

“I have to give credit to Wildchild,” concedes Riley. “He did a good job of starting this match off slowly, and getting Flesher to drop his guard, before leading him into a quick-paced match; he’s got Flesher doing maneuvers outside of his normal repertoire, and Flesher may be so caught up in the match, that he doesn’t even realize it!”

 

Quite possibly realizing that he was allowing himself to be lured into Wildchild’s style, Tom decides to slow the match back down, circling the ring before approaching Wildchild again, and then shooting the single-leg, taking the Caribbean down to the mat, and then turning away from him, hanging onto the leg to cinch in a leglock. Tom wrenches the ankle and foot of Wildchild as the Bahama Bomber struggles to free himself.

 

“Well, maybe Tom heard you, Robert,” says Comet. “It would appear that he realized that he wasn’t going to get anywhere trying to beat Wildchild at his own game, and has taken the match back down to the canvas, where he’s clearly the most accomplished of the two!”

 

“Smart of Flesher to go after that leg,” notes Bobby. “Against an opponent like Wildchild, you want to do whatever it takes to keep him from flying around; take away his ability to capitalize on his speed and agility, and Wildchild becomes VERY beatable!”

 

Rolling towards Flesher to raise his free leg off the canvas, Wildchild lifts it overhead and drops it down across Tom’s throat, the resulting action causing Tom to release his grip on the leg and instinctively reach for the throat, and allowing the Tropical Tumbler to reach forward and grab his near arm. Flesher, realizing that was just lured into a trap, locks his hands together and pulls against Wildchild as he plots his next course of action.

 

“Look at that,” reflects Comet. “Flesher made the move to take Wildchild back down to the mat, and Wildchild has turned it against him, luring him right into what might develop into a cross-arm breaker!”

 

“Right now, it’s down to a test of strength,” adds Riley, “and Wildchild can’t compete physically with Flesher, but this exchange may have other long term benefits in Wildchild’s favor!”

 

“Such as?”

 

“Well, think about it,” replies Bobby. “Wildchild has managed to surprise Flesher with his ability to keep up with him on the mat; that may cause Flesher to consider trying a different style in order to win, and that would play right into Wildchild’s hands!”

 

“I don’t honestly think that’s much of a concern,” says Comet. “Citizen Flesher has shown time and time again that he has the capability to adjust his game plan, and figure out ways to neutralize his opponents strengths. You don’t become a two-time World Champion without knowing how to adjust, Robert.”

 

SMACK!

SMACK!

 

Wildchild lowers his leg across Flesher’s throat, forcing him to break the grip between his hands, and enabling Wildchild to pull his near arm back into a cross-arm breaker, but the Superior One immediately rolls from his back onto his knees and towards Wildchild to alleviate the pressure, then manages to negotiate his way over to the ropes, where Kivell asks for a clean break and Wildchild reluctantly grants it. Wildchild pops to his feet, waving his arms through the air to inspire the crowd to cheer, as Tom walks around the ring, shaking his arm out.

 

“Flesher turned out to have no problems at all getting free of that arm breaker by Wildchild,” says Comet. “But look at him, Robert; he’s clearly starting to get frustrated!”

 

“Absolutely,” agrees Riley. “You can tell that he didn’t expect this out of Wildchild! And, even though he’s had no difficulty getting out of anything that Wildchild’s put him in, he definitely didn’t think that Wildchild had it in him to begin with; Wildchild’s forced him to shake up his game plan, and he can’t be happy about that!”

 

Tom and Wildchild meet near the center of the ring once more, and link hands with each other to engage in a Greco-Roman knucklelock. The two combatants struggle and strain against each other, before a quick-thinking Wildchild shifts his leg behind Flesher’s, and uses his leverage to force him down towards the canvas. Wildchild lowers Tom nearly all the way down, but the Main Attraction uses his superior back and neck strength to hold his position with an impressive bridge.

 

“Wildchild and Tom Flesher locked up in a test of strength,” notes Comet, “and right now, it looks like Wildchild is coming away with the better of it!”

 

“You have to chalk that up to adrenaline,” replies Bobby. “Wildchild isn’t a match for Tom Flesher in the strength department, but his adrenaline levels might just be high enough right now to enable him to take an early advantage.”

 

As the Tropical Tumbler begins to tire from holding Flesher down in that position, the Superior One slowly fights his way back to a vertical base. Upon returning to an upright position, he begins to impose his will upon Wildchild, forcing backwards into a bridge of his own.

 

“Flesher now back in control,” remarks Riley, “and that indicates to me that my observation about adrenaline was right; Wildchild just doesn’t have the power to maintain something like that for an extended period of time.”

 

Despite having Wildchild in a compromising position, Flesher is unable to force him completely down to the canvas, so he raises up off the canvas with the intent of bringing his full weight down on Wildchild, but the Bahama Bomber surprises him again by relaxing his bridge and tucking his knees to his chest, planting his feet into Flesher’s midsection as he comes back down, and pushing him backwards. Tom falls back onto his feet, and Wildchild uses his momentum to pull himself off the mat, following that action up by kicking off of Tom’s hips and into the air, wrapping his legs around the Main Attraction’s neck and ripping him through the air with yet another sensational headscissors that sends him tumbling outside the ring!

 

“Nice counter by Wildchild,” says Comet. “Good job of using Flesher’s own momentum against him to facilitate the execution of that headscissor takeover! And now, Tom needs to take a few seconds to get his strategy back in order!”

 

As Flesher tries to gather himself outside the ring, Wildchild returns to his feet and stands on the edge of the ring, using the top rope to propel himself to the outside and twisting in midair as he descends towards the arena floor…

 

 

SPLASH!

 

 

… Crashing into the Superior One with a beautiful corkscrew plancha!

 

DUB-CEE!

DUB-CEE!

DUB-CEE!

 

 

“Big time plancha by Wildchild,” shouts Comet. “That’s the first real high-risk move that he’s tried in this match, but don’t bet on it being the last!”

 

Wildchild punches Flesher a few times before pulling him up to his feet. He grabs Tom by the wrist and whips him towards the barricade, but the Superior One reverses, sending Wildchild on a collision course with the ring barricade. The Caribbean Cruiser leaps onto the barricade, and flips off of it in time to avoid a charging Tom Flesher, landing on his feet behind him. As Tom turns back around, the Human Hurricane hooks his arm underneath that of his opponent to take him over with a hiptoss…

 

 

WHAM!

 

 

… But this time, the Superior One has the move well scouted, blocking the hiptoss and immediately reaching across with his free arm to snare Wildchild with a front facelock snaps the Caribbean’s neck sharply, dropping him to the padded arena floor with a swinging neckbreaker!

 

 

TAA-MO!

TAA-MO!

TAA-MO!

TAA-MO!

 

“Nice counter to the hiptoss by Flesher,” says Riley. “Wildchild went to the well one time too many, and this time, Flesher was ready for it; that’s the experience paying off!”

 

 

BANG!

 

 

Tom pulls Wildchild to his feet and grabs him by the wrist, whipping him across the arena floor and headfirst into the steel stairs! Flesher begins to walk around the ring in the direction of the ramp, as Wildchild lay on the floor seemingly lifeless.

 

“Just like that, Tom has managed to turn the tables on Wildchild,” remarks Comet, as Flesher closes in on the ladders, “and it looks like he’s going to try to be the first one to put the ladders in play!”

 

“Flesher better be on the lookout for Wildchild,” warns Riley, as the Bahama Bomber slides underneath the bottom rope back into the ring. “He had to walk clear around the ring to get to those ladders, and that may have bought Wildchild the time he needed to recover!”

 

 

CRASH!

 

 

Riley’s words prove to be prophetic, for as Tom lifts one of the eight-foot ladders off the ground and turns back towards the ring, Wildchild darts across the ring and leaps over the top rope and flips through the air before crashing into the Main Attraction with a tope con hilo, smashing his body against the ladder and, in turn, smashing the ladder against Flesher!

 

“Tom may have mad a mistake to go for the ladder without making sure that Wildchild was down for the count,” says Riley.

 

“That’s the danger of a Ladder match,” replies Comet. “It’s quite possibly the most challenging off all matches, because it requires you to not only incapacitate your opponent, but to do so long enough to get a hold of the ladder, set it up in the ring, and climb it! Not even a Last Man Standing Match requires you to put your opponent out of action quite THAT long!”

 

Wildchild lays the ladder flat across the padded arena floor, parallel with the ring apron, and walks over to Flesher, grabbing him by the arm and pulling him to his feet. He picks him up with both hands…

 

 

WHAM!

 

 

… And drops him onto the ladder with a scoop slam! He then turns to face the ring and flips backwards…

 

 

WHAM!

 

 

… Crashing into Tom’s chest with a standing Moonsault press! Wildchild rolls onto his knees, rubbing his ribs gingerly as Flesher simply lies across the ladder, shuddering from the impact of the blow.

 

 

DUB-CEE!

DUB-CEE!

DUB-CEE!

DUB-CEE!

 

 

“Wildchild with what may have been an ill-advised maneuver,” says Comet. “That Moonsault press!”

 

“There’s no question that it was an ill-advised move,” chimes in Riley. “Even though he may have fully recovered from his rib injury of last year, he’s very much at risk of re-injuring himself if he keeps this up!”

 

Wildchild gets to his feet and walks over to Flesher, grabbing him by the back of his head and pulling him to his feet as well, before rolling him underneath the bottom rope into the ring. He then picks the ladder up off the floor, and slides it into the ring as well.

 

“Wildchild has Flesher down, and possibly out,” notes Comet, “but elects to bring him back into the ring, presumably to inflict more punishment; I don’t know if I would have done that.”

 

“I definitely wouldn’t have done that,” chimes Riley. “Why waste an opportunity to win the match? Flesher may or may not have been able to react fast enough to stop Wildchild from climbing the ladder while he was outside the ring, but he’ll certainly be fast enough to stop him from INSIDE the ring!”

 

Wildchild leans the ladder up against the turnbuckles in one corner of the ring, and then pulls Flesher to his feet, grabbing him by the wrist and whipping him towards the opposite corner. Tom crashes into the turnbuckles and the Human Hurricane charges in after him, leaping towards the corner and twisting his body in midair…

 

 

SPLASH!

 

 

… As he crashes into Flesher with his patented Twisting Vertical Body Splash!

 

“Blue Crush,” shouts Comet. “Wildchild hits Flesher with the Blue Crush, and it looks as though he may be reeling right about now!”

 

Wildchild grabs Flesher by the wrist and whips him back across the ring towards the ladder…

 

 

CRASH!

 

 

… But the Superior One still has the wherewithal to force a reversal, sending Wildchild crashing face-first into the ladder instead! Wildchild rolls away from the corner, gripping his face in pain, as Flesher drops down to one knee as he continues to clear the cobwebs in his head.

 

TAA-MO!

TAA-MO!

TAA-MO!

TAA-MO!

 

 

“Wildchild was successful earlier in using the ladder as a weapon, but it appears that the Superior One has turned the tables once again,” remarks Comet.

 

“That’s the thing about a ladder match,” adds Riley. “There are just too many things that can happen to change the entire tenure of the match in an instant; even something as simple as a reversed Irish whip can be the difference between certain victory and certain doom, whenever the ladder’s involved!”

 

Flesher walks over to the ladder and lifts it off the canvas, laying it horizontally across the top turnbuckle. He then walks back over to where Wildchild is attempting to recover and pulls him to his feet, slapping him hard across his face with a stiff Shotei to maintain his advantage. Grabbing him by the wrist, Flesher whips Wildchild into the corner towards the ladder…

 

 

BANG!

 

 

… But the Bahama Bomber reverses and sends Tom smashing face-first into the ladder instead!

 

“Wildchild with a little payback on Tom Flesher for sending him into the ladder,” shouts Comet, as Wildchild retrieves the ladder from the corner and unfolds it in the center of the ring. “And it looks like Wildchild is going to be the first to go for the briefcase!”

 

Wildchild begins to climb the ladder, and gets more than halfway up before Tom begins to stir on the canvas. Just as he reaches the top, though, Flesher bolts up off the mat and lunges at Wildchild’s leg, gaining a firm hold on him ankle and yanking him off the ladder back down to the mat! As Wildchild struggles to get back to his feet, the Main Attraction folds the ladder back up and raises it overhead, settling it on his shoulders as he waits for Wildchild to get back to his feet.

 

“From the looks of things,” observes Comet, “it would seem that Tom Flesher may be going for a knockout shot here!”

 

Flesher twists his waist suddenly the second Wildchild returns to an upright position, causing the ladder to swing sharply back and forth. The Tropical Tumbler sees the ladder coming his way and ducks underneath it, and again a second time when Flesher twists back around, then a third…

 

 

CLANG!

 

 

… But is unable to duck out of the way a fourth time, as the Superior One smashes Wildchild in the back of the head with the ladder, knocking him flat against the canvas!

 

“Give Tom Flesher credit for staying with that attack,” shouts Comet. “Wildchild had the speed to move out of the way with that ladder a few times, but he eventually lost track of it, and it was only a matter of time before Tom’s persistence paid off!”

 

As Wildchild lay flat against the canvas, Tom carries the ladder back over towards the corner, this time laying it horizontally across the connecting middle ropes, before walking back over to Wildchild and pulling him to his feet. Flesher grabs Wildchild by the back of the head and leads him over to the corner, driving his face into the ladder…

 

 

CLANG!

 

 

… But the Bahama Bomber lifts his leg up to block at the last possible second and grabs Tom’s head with both hands, slamming him into the ladder instead! As Flesher stumbles away from the corner, Wildchild spins him back around and shoots the double-leg, dropping him backwards onto the canvas. Wildchild maintains control of Flesher’s legs and locks his hands together underneath them, leaning back slightly before he begins to spin in a clockwise motion, gradually lifting the Superior One off the mat. Wildchild continues to spin Flesher around, nearly becoming dizzy himself, before coming to a stop with Flesher’s head pointing towards the corner, his head directly underneath the ladder…

 

“Oh no,” screams Comet. “He wouldn’t!”

 

 

Like hell he wouldn’t…

 

 

 

BANG!

 

 

Wildchild, still holding onto Tom’s legs, falls back towards the canvas, launching Flesher up and into the ladder, crushing his face against the solid steel implement!

 

HOLY SHIT!

HOLY SHIT!

HOLY SHIT!

 

 

“Great Zeus,” moans Comet. “He just catapulted Tom Flesher face-first into that ladder! These two young men have been pretty evenly matched for this entire contest, but you have to believe that move may have permanently shifted the momentum in Wildchild’s favor!”

 

DUB-CEE!

DUB-CEE!

DUB-CEE!

DUB-CEE!

 

“These two have matched each other move for move to this point in the match,” says Riley. “Whenever one of them hits a big move, the other one comes right back! But, with Wildchild finally able to get off two big moves back to back, that just may give him the momentum he needs to pull off the win!”

 

Wildchild grabs Tom by the feet and drags him out of the corner, pulling him up to his feet, applying a side headlock, but the Superior One finds sudden burst of adrenaline and wraps his arms around the Caribbean’s waist before snatching him off the canvas. He stumbles backwards a few steps before falling back towards the mat…

 

 

BANG!

 

 

… Driving the top of Wildchild’s head into the ladder with a Dangerous Backdrop!

 

 

HOLY SHIT!

HOLY SHIT!

HOLY SHIT!

 

 

“By Thor’s Hammer,” exclaims Comet, as both men lay motionless in the ring. “BAAAACKDROP DUUUUUH-RIIIIIII-VAAAAAAAH!”

 

“It’s over,” screams Riley. “No WAY Wildchild gets up from that!”

 

TAA-MO!

TAA-MO!

TAA-MO!

TAA-MO!

 

Fortunately for Wildchild, Tom continues to lie on the mat for over a minute, but the Superior One does prove to be the first to show signs of life, as he rolls over onto his stomach and starts to push himself up onto his knees.

 

“I told you,” shouts Riley. “Flesher is almost back on his feet, and Wildchild hasn’t moved in two minutes; it’s over!”

 

Tom gradually returns to his feet and stumbles over to the corner to retrieve the ladder. He pulls it off of its resting place on the ropes and carries it over to the center of the ring, but as he attempts to unfold it, he discovers a problem:

 

“That ladder is bent,” says Comet. “Between the catapult and the backdrop, it must have been too much stress on it; no way will Tom be able to get that to stand up on its own, never mind supporting his weight!”

 

“That’s not too big a deal,” replies Bobby. “There’s another ladder just outside the ring, and Wildchild still hasn’t moved. I don’t think he has to worry too much!”

 

With a frustrated sigh, Flesher drags the ladder over towards the edge of the ring and dumps it over the top rope to the arena floor, before heading over towards the ramp and exiting the ring through the ropes to retrieve the other ladder.

 

“I hope that backdrop didn’t do any permanent damage to Wildchild,” says a worried Comet. “It’s been almost three minutes, and he still hasn’t moved!”

 

“I wouldn’t worry about him too much,” replies Riley, as Flesher drags the ladder over towards the ring. “After all, it’s not as if he had a whole lot of gray matter up there to begin with; in fact, whatever happened to him might have been an improvement!”

 

“Will you stop,” shouts Comet. “That’s despicable! How can you even make light of that young man’s misfortune?”

 

“Eh,” shrugs Riley, “it’s not that hard at all, once you get used to it…”

 

Stopping first to make sure that Wildchild wasn’t about to suddenly pop up, the Superior One slides the ladder underneath the bottom rope, and then slides in after it. Getting back to his feet, he drags the ladder over to the center of the ring and raises it off the canvas, unfolding it so that it stands directly underneath the briefcase.

 

“This is it,” says Riley, as Tom begins to climb the ladder. “It’s only a matter of time now!”

 

Wildchild finally begins to stir just in time to see Flesher halfway up the ladder.

 

 

“Hold on a second,” shouts Comet. “Wildchild is up! And he sees Flesher climbing the ladder! Can he make it in time?”

 

With a sudden burst of adrenaline, Wildchild surges off the canvas and rushes over to the ladder, grabbing desperately at Tom’s leg, but the Main Attraction casually kicks him away, and continues to climb.

 

“That’s going to do it,” exclaims Riley. “That was Wildchild’s last chance to stop Flesher before he makes it to the top! It’s all over now!”

 

Flesher reaches the penultimate rung of the ladder, and is close enough to touch the briefcase with his fingertips. Just as he steadies himself to scale the final rung…

 

 

THWACK!

 

 

… Wildchild leaps into the air as high as he is able in a final, desperate gambit, and stuns the Superior One with a flying forearm to the back. The blow causes Flesher to teeter atop the ladder and struggle to regain his balance, giving Wildchild just enough time to climb high enough underneath him to grab him by the waist. No longer able to kick him off without losing his own precarious balance, Tom hangs onto the top of the ladder for dear life as Wildchild tries to pull him off for all he’s worth.

 

“We’re down to a battle of wills,” cries Comet. “If Tom Flesher can just shake Wildchild loose, he’s going to win this match. Does Wildchild have enough left to get him down and keep this match alive?”

 

Having little to no success trying to pull Tom down off the ladder, the Bahama Bomber decides to go for broke at take a step UP the ladder instead, and it pays off, as the sudden change in direction takes the Main Attraction off guard, causing him to lose his grip on the top of the ladder!

 

“He shook him loose,” shouts Comet. “He shook him loose! It’s anybody’s match now!”

 

With his newfound advantage, Wildchild pushes off the ladder, and it clatters to the canvas as Wildchild lands on his feet, still holding Tom overhead at the waist. Stumbling backwards, the Tropical Tumbler turns towards the edge of the ring and dumps him directly onto the top rope, crotching the Superior One!

 

“Oh my goodness,” groans Comet. “Tom’s going to feel that one tomorrow!”

 

Flesher continues to straddle the top rope, holding his groin gingerly when, before he can get down, Wildchild races towards the corner ahead of him, leaping onto the top turnbuckle and only taking a split second to turn to face the Main Attraction before springing back off, landing on Flesher’s shoulders and locking his legs behind his neck, before arching his back as he jerks the Superior One abruptly OFF OF THE TOP ROPE AND OUT OF THE RING WITH A DEATH-DEFYING HEADSCISSORS!

 

 

BANG!

 

 

… Causing him to crash headfirst into the previously discarded ladder on the padded arena floor!

 

 

 

HOLY SHIT!

HOLY SHIT!

HOLY SHIT!

HOLY SHIT!

 

 

“HOLY SHIT,” exclaim Comet and Riley simultaneously.

 

“Blessed Mother of Zeus,” shrieks Comet. “Did you see that move?”

 

“I saw it,” says Riley, shaking his head, “and I STILL don’t believe it! That damned fool just risked a broken neck to try and take his opponent out!”

 

DUB-CEE!

DUB-CEE!

DUB-CEE!

DUB-CEE!

 

The crowd begins to emphatically express their support for Wildchild as both men continue to lay motionless on the arena floor.

 

“Listen to this capacity crowd,” marvels Comet. “They’ve been split pretty much down the middle throughout this match, but they now appear to be uniting in support for the Bahama Bomber!”

 

Feeding off of the crowd’s energy, Wildchild drags himself up to his knees, and then crawls over to the edge of the ring, using the apron to pull himself back to his feet.

 

“Wildchild’s back up,” shouts Comet. “He seems to be drawing energy from the fans; will it be enough for him to come away from this match victorious?”

 

“That’s just patently stupid,” replies Bobby. “The fans don’t have any magical powers; they can’t make the wrestlers better any way, and I’m tired of hearing people like you give them so much credit! It’s all about the wrestlers themselves!”

 

“I beg to differ,” replies Comet. “If a crowd has enough energy, they can get a wrestler’s adrenaline pumping, and give him the energy to do extraordinary things! Never underestimate the power of the fans, Robert!”

 

Walking over to the Superior One, Wildchild grabs him by the back of the head and pulls him to his feet. Re-positioning his opponent so that his head is hanging over the ladder, the Human Hurricane leaps into the air, draping his leg over the back of Flesher’s neck…

 

 

BANG!

 

 

… As he drives him face-first into the ladder with his patented Caribbean Cutter!

 

 

“Cutter,” exclaims Comet. “Caribbean Cutter on the ladder, and if Flesher wasn’t out before, he HAS to be out now!”

 

Wildchild scrambles back to his feet and looks down at his unconscious foe, but instead of looking towards the ring, the Tropical Tumbler looks towards the foot of the ramp, his mind on that eighteen-foot ladder. With a wild grin on his face, he walks around the ring and grabs the monstrous ladder, standing it upright in its folded position.

 

“What the hell is he doing,” Comet wonders aloud. “You’ve got the match won, kid! What the hell are you doing?”

 

As it turns out, what he is doing is laying the enormous ladder horizontally across the ring barricade, bridging the gap from one side of the aisle to the other. Satisfied that it is firmly in position, he walks back around the ring to where Tom Flesher remains motionless, and drags him back towards the foot of the ramp. First pulling him to his feet, Wildchild scoops Flesher off of the floor and slams him across the ladder, leaving him stretched out above the ground on the makeshift “bridge” he has created. Breaking into a wide grin as he turns to face the crowd, Wildchild holds his hands above his head and spins them around each other in a circular motion, with twenty thousand strong erupting as they realize what he’s about to attempt!

 

 

YAAAAAAAH!

 

 

“Oh my dear god,” shrieks Comet. “He just gave the sign for the Falling Star Press! He CAN’T be thinking of going for that move outside the ring!”

 

“If he’s even thinking about trying the FSP outside the ring,” answers Riley, “he’s even dumber than I thought he was! If he messes this up, it could end his career!”

 

But, as we all know, Wildchild was never one to take such matters into consideration when faced with the prospect of giving the fans something that they’ll never forget, and he brazenly climbs onto the ring apron, again giving the sign for the Falling Star Press.

 

“I still can’t believe that he’s going to go through with this,” exclaims Comet. “The next few seconds may very well prove to be a defining moment in Wildchild’s career!”

 

Without any regard for his own safety, The Bahama Bomber leaps on to the top rope, and the fearlessly springs off, spinning in a counter-clockwise motion even as he falls backwards to crush his foe with his Falling Star Press!

 

 

 

CRASH!

 

 

Wildchild descends upon the ladder like a star falling from the heavens, but just a split-second before he makes contact, the Superior One rolls off of the ladder, and the young Caribbean Cruiser’s chest bounces off of the unforgiving steel ladder as he falls to the floor!

 

 

HOLY SHIT!

HOLY SHIT!

HOLY SHIT!

HOLY SHIT!

 

“He missed,” crows Riley. “He missed! The dumbass missed!”

 

“Poor kid,” moans Comet. “He could have very well just ended his career! That was absolutely hideous, the way he bounced off that ladder! One would have to believe that the advantage in this match belongs to Tom Flesher, assuming he’s recovered enough to get back to his feet!”

 

But Flesher, still woozy from the Caribbean Cutter on the ladder, barely even had enough energy to roll off of the ladder, let alone get back to his feet. Meanwhile, the crowd is once again divided as they attempt to cheer the two combatants back to life:

 

LET’S GO, TAA-MO!

LET’S GO, DUB-CEE!

LET’S GO, TAA-MO!

LET’S GO, DUB-CEE!

LET’S GO, TAA-MO!

LET’S GO, DUB-CEE!

LET’S GO, TAA-MO!

LET’S GO, DUB-CEE!

LET’S GO, TAA-MO!

LET’S GO, DUB-CEE!

 

“By Zeus,” exclaims Comet, “these two young superstars have given it their all in this match! Both of them have proven that they deserve to be mentioned whenever you’re talking about the greatest cruiserweights of all time! It’s a shame that only one of them is able to win this match!”

 

Flesher crawls over to the ring and uses the apron to pull himself up, before sliding in underneath the bottom rope.

 

“Flesher’s up,” shouts Riley. “He’s got it this time; Wildchild is out of miracles!”

 

Still not quite strong enough to pull himself all the way up to his feet, the Superior One crawls over to the ladder and strains to lift it upright. After unfolding it and pushing it into position, he crawls over to the rungs and uses them to pull himself to his feet.

 

“Tom Flesher is making his way up the ladder,” says Comet, “and Wildchild is nowhere to be found. It would appear that the Superior One is about to prove that he’s still the top cruiserweight in the world!”

 

“I can’t believe you’re so surprised about this,” says Riley. “All of Wildchild’s acrobatics and showmanship may go over in the circus, but this is wrestling! At some point you have to know how to put it together; I’ll grant you that he’s made great strides with his wrestling ability, but he’s still got a LONG way to go! If he dedicates himself diligently for a couple of years, one day he might be half the cruiserweight that Tom Flesher is!”

 

Now halfway up the ladder, Tom looks outside the ring and sees Wildchild stirring on the floor. Suddenly filled with a sense of panic, Flesher digs into his reserves, and wills himself up the last few rungs.

 

“He’s almost at the top,” shrieks Riley, “and Wildchild is still outside the ring! There’s NO CHANCE he can make it!”

 

Wildchild pulls himself onto the ring apron just as Flesher reaches the last rung on the ladder. With the briefcase only inches from Tom’s grasp, and not enough time to climb into the ring and run to the ladder, the Human Hurricane leaps onto the top rope and makes one more last-ditch effort to keep the match going…

 

“Wildchild’s going for broke,” cries Comet. “If he’s even a fraction off, this match is over!”

 

Soaring through the air, the Bahama Bomber extends his feet in front of him as the Superior One reaches for the briefcase…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

CLANG!

 

 

 

 

 

… AND MAKES CONTACT!

 

 

 

“He made it,” exclaims Comet. “By Zeus, he made it!”

 

With the ladder now teetering out of control, Flesher begins to fall towards the top rope. Unwilling to allow a repeat of his groin mishap, the Main Attraction focuses all of his concentration on preserving his privates…

 

 

… But, in protecting his testicles, the Superior One inadvertently gets his legs tangled up in the ropes!

 

 

“Flesher’s caught in the ropes,” shouts Comet. “He’s stuck!”

 

 

Tom makes a desperate attempt to grab at the ladder, but the Bahama Bomber pulls it backwards out of his reach, lifting it upright and positioning it underneath the briefcase.

 

 

DUB-CEE!

DUB-CEE!

DUB-CEE!

DUB-CEE!

DUB-CEE!

 

 

“NOOOOOO,” cries Riley, as Wildchild begins to climb up the ladder. “For the love of God, NO! This can’t be happening!”

 

“Wildchild is almost at the top of the ladder,” screams Comet, as Flesher reaches frantically to untangle himself from the ropes. “Will Tom be able to free himself in time to keep the match alive?”

 

Flesher frees himself from the ropes just as Wildchild gets his feet set at the top of the ladder.

 

“He’s loose,” shouts Riley. “Can he make it in time?”

 

As Wildchild reaches up to grab the briefcase, the Superior One lunges desperately at the base of the ladder, and succeeds in pushing it over! Without a platform to stand on, the Bahama Bomber plummets down to the mat…

 

 

 

 

CRASH!

 

 

 

 

 

… But not before he succeeds in removing the briefcase and pulling it down with him!

 

 

 

 

DING! DING! DING!

 

 

The Gund Arena absolutely EXPLODES with the sounds of nearly twenty-one thousand screaming fans, completely drowning out the sounds of “Let’s Get Dirty.”

 

“He’s done it,” cries Comet. “By Zeus, he’s done it! Wildchild has beaten Tom Flesher! He’s now established himself as the top cruiserweight in the SWF!”

 

“I can’t believe it,” grumbles Riley. “I WON’T believe it! That didn’t really happen!”

 

Funyon rises from his ringside seat, microphone in hand, and raises it to his lips to make the official pronouncement: “Here is your winner… the WIIIIILDCHIIIIILD!”

 

As Wildchild manages to pull himself to his feet, he finds himself face to face with Tom Flesher. The music cuts out and the crowd becomes silent in nervous anticipation, wondering what may be about to happen now. The Bahama Bomber and the Superior One look each other in the eye, each mentally acknowledging the supreme effort that the other put into the match, and finally Tom extends his hand in friendship, which Wildchild happily accepts. The two share a manly embrace as the crowd once again goes ballistic, giving a standing ovation to both these two proud warriors!

 

“Listen to this ovation for both Wildchild and Tom Flesher,” gushes Comet. “And deservedly so! These two young superstars put on a performance for ages! Like I said before, it’s a shame that both of them couldn’t win!”

 

“Well,” says Riley, “now that all of that is finally over with, what the hell’s in that briefcase?”

 

 

:: CRACK! ::

[Guest Suicide King]

:: CRACK! ::

 

The fans erupt as the crack of a bat signifies the arrival of the SWF’s Commissioner, ‘Grand Slam’ Mark Stevens. Stevens walks down the ramp towards the ring, applauding as he does so. Upon arrival at ringside, he walks up the steel stairs to the ring apron and steps between the ropes to enter the ring. Giving a curt nod to Wildchild and Flesher, Stevens strides across the ring and leans over the top rope to ask Funyon for his microphone.

 

“It looks like the Commissioner has something to say,” remarks Comet. “Perhaps he’s going to reveal to everyone what’s inside of that briefcase!”

 

As he turns back towards the center of the ring, Stevens signals the audio technicians to cut his music. Raising the microphone to his lips, he says, “How about another round of applause for our two outstanding competitors!”

 

 

YAAAAAAAH!

 

 

“I had hoped to see a tremendous match here tonight between the two best cruiserweight wrestlers in the world,” continues Stevens, “and the two of you exceeded my every expectation! Tom, you proved tonight, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that you still stand at the top of the mountain, as one of the finest cruiserweight wrestlers the world has ever seen! And, Wildchild…”

 

 

YAAAAAAAAH!

 

Mark has to pause as the crowd breaks into wild applause, showing their love for the Superior One. “That’s right, applaud him; he deserves every bit of it! And Wildchild, I promised that you that your efforts would be rewarded! I promised you that you would receive a prize that will change the Cruiserweight division in the SWF; so, without further ado…”

 

With that, Stevens reaches into his pocket retrieve a small key, which he uses to unlock the briefcase. He opens it slowly, first displaying the contents to the Bahama Bomber, whose eyes grow to the size of saucers. Tom leans over to peek into the briefcase as well, and his eyebrows shoot to the top of his hairline as a grin spreads across his face. Flesher slaps Wildchild on the back as Stevens removes the contents from the briefcase and reveals them to the crowd.

 

 

YAAAAAAAAAH!

 

 

The crowd erupts once again as they see what was contained in the briefcase:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A BRAND NEW CHAMPIONSHIP BELT FOR THE CRUISERWEIGHT DIVISION!

 

 

 

 

“Congratulations, Wildchild,” the Heavy Hitter says happily, as he hands the Championship belt to the Bahama Bomber. “Ladies and gentlemen, it is my privilege to present to you… The NEEEEEEW…. SWF Cruiserweight Champion… The WIIIIILDCHIIIIILD!”

 

 

“This is truly a great day for the SWF, ladies and gentlemen,” says Comet happily. “After months of being inactive, the Cruiserweight Division is once again alive and well in the SWF, and the Wildchild is your NEW Cruiserweight Champion!”

 

Grand Slam fastens the Cruiserweight Championship around Wildchild’s waist, and then holds his hand aloft as “Let’s Get Dirty” begins to play yet again. Tom and Wildchild share another manly embrace and then the Superior One raises the Bahama Bomber’s hand in victory as well.

 

“What a powerful scene in the ring right now,” Comet reflects thoughtfully, “as Tom Flesher passes the mantle of Cruiserweight Excellence over to the Wildchild! Tom Flesher has just added another chapter to his already remarkable legacy, and the Wildchild has taken his first step towards creating a legacy of his own in the Cruiserweight Division. Folks, this evening is JUST GETTING STARTED! Stay tuned for even more outstanding SWF Action!”

 

DUB-CEE!

DUB-CEE!

DUB-CEE!

DUB-CEE!

DUB-CEE!

DUB-CEE!

 

The Bahama Bomber leaps onto the top rope, holding his arms up in triumph. Mark Stevens and Tom Flesher look on as the crowd chants for the new Cruiserweight Champion…

 

 

As we:

FADE OUT

[Guest Suicide King]

The crowd waits impatiently, already they are whipped into a frenzy following the opening encounter between two of the best the business has to offer. Luckily for them, they don’t have to wait much longer for the action to pick up once again…

 

“Welco-“

 

Before poor Cyclone can even continue, the picture is hijacked. The vision begins to distort, overrun by static, but the boys in the booth simply sit back and wait, knowing full too well what this means…

 

Through the PA comes the recognizable voice of Andrew Blackwell. The crowd sits up and take notice, as they damn well should, listening to the eerie message coming forth.

 

“There is nothing wrong with your television set.”

 

But even before the message begins to be delivered, the fans are on there feet, voicing they utter contempt for the man known as Sacred!

 

“Do not attempt to adjust the picture.”

 

Bobby Riley suddenly interjects, proclaiming proudly, “Here he comes, Comet, the man that will unify the titles in the Blackwell name!”

 

“I will control the horizontal.”

 

But Cyclone Comet begs to differ! “Face it, his time is drawing to a close, Citizen Robert! Tonight is the night for the Junior Leaguers to break out!”

 

“I will control the vertical.”

 

His voice suddenly deepens, sending a chill down the spine of everyone in the arena…

 

“I am controlling transmission….”

 

Mr. Blackwell returns the picture back into the hands of the technicians as the lights begin to recede, until the arena is bathed in darkness. As it does so, “Tainted” my Lycia begins to play its soft, haunting tune, prompting spot lights at either side of the stage to suddenly switch on, and swing around to point towards the entranceway.

 

They illuminate the Sacred One as he walks out to meet his adoring public, United States Championship adorned around his waist. The crowd hiss at the grizzled old veteran as he walks down the ramp way, the spotlights following him as he does so, as if he were god.

 

Cyclone Comet makes a point to cut in right about now. “Citizen Sacred has been in this federation for so long, and held so many titles, but few title matches would come CLOSE to the importance of this one here tonight! My past feelings for Sacred aside… I believe him to be a nefarious cretin! A despicable man, and I will take great please in watching one of the Junior League’s finest take that United States Championship away from him, and unite the titles!”

 

As Funyon takes his place in the center of the ring, Riley fires back. “In your dreams maybe, Comet. The experience factor alone should be enough for Sacred to win here. I don’t care how long you’ve been affiliated with the Junior League, Comet, but I think it’s clouding your judgment. Sacred has been around TOO long to let some young Todd Royal loving upstart deny him of the chance to reach greatness once again!”

 

Comet solemnly concurs. “Maybe my judgment is clouded Robert, I mean, I can’t believe I’m actually hoping young Maddix wins here tonight! He is a self absorbed, lordly, and egotistical lackey, but my hopes that a Junior Leaguer will breakout and reach success in the WF is overwhelming! I did it myself, and you, Robert… well; you’ve seen people do it! And I think Landon has what it takes!”

 

Before the announcers can even begin to bicker amongst themselves, Funyon raises the microphone to his lips, and bellows to all in attendance and at home… “Ladies and Gentleman, the following match is a UNIFICATION MATCH!”

 

Already, the crowd cheers! They know how hard fought this contest will be, or on the flipside, how much hell each man will put each other through, and they’re delighted by it.

 

Funyon continues, smiling at the reaction from the fans. “Tonight, the Junior League European and WORLD Heavyweight titles will be unified forever with the SWF United States Championship!”

 

Hardly believing he would ever see this match, Comet has to respond. “Does anyone truly understands what this means, Citizen Riley!? The Junior League may be gone forever, and tonight, one man will walk away with the gold. ALL the gold!”

 

“The following match is scheduled for one fall, and the winner will be crowned the first, ever, USJL CHAMPION!”

 

Once again, the fans let out a raucous cry, but their joyful spirit is about to be broken as Funyon announces…

 

“INTRODUCING FIRST! From Adelaide, Australia…”

 

“BOOOOOO!” The fans cry already, as Funyon is forced to pause to let the fans die down…

 

“He stands six foot one, and weighs in at approximately two hundred and sixteen pounds… He is the current reigning S W F United States Champion, and Hall of Famer… he is… SAAACCCRRREEEDDD!”

 

Andrew Blackwell remains as quietly confident as ever, smirking only slightly as he listens to the fans ‘welcome’ him back. He makes a dignified entrance, walking up the stairs and entering the ring like a gentleman. He unhooks his title, and looks at it… thinking back to his first reign, a long and arduous seventy-two days, and he has vowed already to better himself and better that reign, starting tonight.

 

At the same time, backstage, Landon Maddix begins jogging on the spot, shaking out any nervousness in his system. From behind him, Megan Skye appears, flanking the young SJL Grand Slam champion and smiling.

 

“Hey, champ! You ready for this?” she asks pleasantly, placing a hand on his shoulder.

 

Landon smiles, but turns around with a more-than-determined look in his eyes. “Megan. You need to stay back here tonight.”

 

She looks at Landon, and then smiles once more. “Don’t worry, I understand completely. Just go out there and make me proud. Make Todd proud!”

 

Maddix laughs, his confident look now replaced by an absolutely cocky bitch like one. “What, me worry? I’ll beat that over-the-hill hack just,” Landon clicks his fingers, “like that.”

 

Without saying any more, the two depart, but not before Megan places a kiss on Landon’s cheek. Maddix winks at his partner in crime, before departing for the main stage…

 

Back in the squared circle, Sacred hands the referee the title before checking the tape on his hands, going through the elementary worm up stage as the fans continue to reign down on his parade with boos and jeers! He pays little attention though…

 

… What does grab his attention, however, is the lights, as they slowly fade down to near nothingness. The arena begins to buzz, wondering what is about to happen, as Blackwell looks around at them, before his head suddenly jerks towards the entranceway as a voice booms through the PA system…

 

“DON’T CHU WANT TO BE ME!”

 

The fans know all too well who this man is, and begin to cry out in protest about his appearance here tonight! And maybe the grammar in the opening lyrics. As they jeer in unison, “Don’t You Wish You Were Me” by Fozzy begins to blare, as four blue lights suddenly shine brightly, and begin to illuminate the dark arena.

 

The lights allow them to catch a glimpse of Landon Maddix, looking as smug and conceited as ever as he makes his first ever entrance into a SWF arena!

 

“And here he is!” Proclaims Cyclone. “Landon Maddix must feel as proud as punch to finally be here, and fighting one of the SWF’s greats!”

 

“True, Cyclone, but I doubt he’d use the term, ‘proud as punch.’ Actually, I doubt anyone would say that, but I digress. As confident and cocky as Maddix is, and as much as he reminds me of… well, me, I just hope he doesn’t take the hall of famer too likely, even though I feel I deserve that honour as well.”

 

Comet nods, patting his partner on the back. “Don’t worry Robert, you’ll always be a Hall of Flamer in my book. But you’re exactly right, if Citizen Maddix hopes to emerge victorious tonight, he better pay evil Sacred the proper respect, or he’ll find himself at the business end of a Cruel Fate!”

 

A coy grin on his face as usual, Maddix makes his way out to the top or the ramp way, slowly extending both arms out to his side, displaying his European and World titles! As flashbulbs are seen all over the arena, Funyon shouts…

 

“And… HIS OPPONENT! From Huron, South Dakato. Standing five foot ten inches tall, and weighing in at two hundred and eight pounds… he is the current and reigning Smarks Junior League European Champion, and World Heavyweight Champion!”

 

Before Funyon can even finish the crowd let forth a torrent of boos in Landon’s direction as he walks down the ramp way, gawking to the fans, safely proclaiming that he will, as always, win tonight. Funyon finishes by yelling out…

 

“He… is… LANDON “LA CUCARACCHHHAAAAAAAA” MMMAAADDDDIIIIXXXX!”

 

An even greater wave of boos sweeps through the arena as Maddix leaps up onto the ring apron and rushes across the turnbuckles, climbing to the second rope and looks out amongst the fans, holding his two championship belts up high for all too see. He hopes back down and climbs through the ropes, holding both titles out for the referee, who holds then aloft, letting the fans catch a final glimpse of the championships.

 

“Interesting to note,” Bobby, uh, notes, “that Megan Skye hasn’t made an appearance here tonight. Surely, in such an important an occasion as tonight, she would be out here to ‘support’ Landon?”

 

“Very good point, Robert. We all know why Todd Royal isn’t out here as he’s in the twenty man Clusterfeck, But Megan Skye not at the champion’s side is very strange indeed, although, she was not at his side on the last ever SJL Metal, at Landon’s request of course. Maybe, just maybe, he wants to do this alone, and respect the importance of this match with a fair fight.”

 

“That may be his first mistake, Comet. Sacred is jaded, he’s tired, and he’s pissed. He’s been here before and knows what needs to be done to win. Namely, lying, cheating, and stealing this match away!”

 

The titles are given to a ringside attendant, who almost collapses under the weight on the titles combined. With Funyon leaving the ring, only Sacred, Landon, and the referee for this bout, Matthew Kivell.

 

“And we’re about to get underway in this historic contest!” Comet proudly proclaims. “Although Sacred may have a slight height advantage, I doubt it weigh in at all in this match. The most important thing, in my mind, is the experience factor. Landon, although hugely successful in such a short time, is NINE years Blackwell’s junior, and of course, Sacred is a three-year SWF veteran. Can he contend against such experience?”

 

Without further ado, Kivell looks to the timekeeper and nods, as we begin this match…

 

“DING! DING! DING!”

 

Kivell then takes his position in the center of the ring, looking back and forth at both competitors. They lock eyes, never meeting before except for this moment. Landon extends his hand, just as Alan Clark did for him in the last Junior League show, but it’s only a mock handshake this time, as indicated by Landon’s sheepish grin and arrogant eye. Blackwell growls, slapping the hand away and backing away, ready to lock up.

 

“What audacity by this young upstart!” cries Comet. “Though, Citizen Sacred doesn’t deserve any respect… dang, my dislike for both men is boggling my mind!”

 

Chuckling, Riley replies. “I like this kid. What’s better than giving Sacred full respect? Giving him none. Maddix will wrestle his way, and won’t let Blackwell get to him one bit.”

 

As Sacred turns his back for one second, grumbling to himself, Landon attacks! Literally flying across the ring, Landon hits Sacred square in the spine with a flying forearm!

 

“You maybe right, Robert. He won’t let anything intimidate him tonight, even going so far to use a move Blackwell uses far more often than anyone else, the flying forearm!”

 

The surprise of the blow more than anything forces Sacred to stumble forward into the ropes, shaking off the disrespect. Landon looks to go on with it, but Blackwell shoots an elbow over his shoulder, crunching Landon right on the nose. Maddix immediately grabs his nose, as a tiny bit of blood appears, trickling down to his lip.

 

Pivoting back around, Sacred stalks the youngster back across the ring, in no mood to bend to the will of this upstart. Showing no fear, Landon fires right back with a right-handed European uppercut, but Blackwell catches it with his left arm, locking the two together. Sacred rifles off a forearm with his free appendage, then another forearm for good measure! Sacred then unhooks his left arm, but hooks his right arm underneath Landon’s left, taking him up and over with a Hip Toss.

 

Backing into the ropes, Sacred comes off looking for a Leg Drop, but Landon flips onto his stomach and Sacred hops over him, continuing onto the opposite strands. As Maddix hops back to his feet in one swift movement, he swings his arm out wide for a wild clothesline, but Blackwell easily ducks underneath the rash effort. He keeps running, back into the ropes and back out again, but this time he leaps into the air, latching onto Landon’s neck and taking him over with an Ankle Scissors!

 

“A hot opening indeed! And maybe Citizen Maddix has been taken down just a notch, hmmm?”

 

“It’s still early days yet,” replies Riley, “and we have a long way to go. With these two, the momentum of the match could swing at any moment. But, this match could be won with tactics, and the smarter and more cunning the tactics, the greater the chance one has of winning.”

 

“And time and time again, Citizen Sacred has shown he can play the game better than anybody! What’s more, he’s played it longer than anybody else, longer than you or I! And I’ll keep saying this all night if I have to, but Citizen Landon better be on his guard!”

 

With a scowl on his face, Maddix charges again, but Sacred stops him dead in his tracks, dragging him to the mat with a Drop Toe Hold! Before Maddix can go anywhere though, Sacred spins around and latches onto him with a Front Face Lock!

 

Before he can cinch it in, Maddix reaches up and grabs Blackwell’s left arm suddenly shifting his position much to Sacred’s surprise! The Disciple of Todd shows his own quickness on the mat by twisting around with a spinning armbar! The crowd is delighted to hear an echoing cry of pain emanate from Blackwell, but it doesn’t last long as Sacred fights his way back onto one knee, then into a doubled over position. Maddix attempts to wear him back down my wrenching in the hold even harder, but the Australian suddenly spins himself around, taking Landon’s arm as he does so and putting on a hammerlock, and pinning his arm against his back.

 

But just as Landon attempts to break the hold, Sacred reaches underneath Maddix, hoisting him into the air by his leg and dropping him down across the back of his neck with a Back Drop Suplex!

 

“What did I say about tactics, huh? It’s plain to see that, even this early into the match, Sacred is looking to target that neck, just as Alan Clark did,” observes a very astute Bobby Riley.

 

“A beautiful move indeed, and he’s holding for the pin!”

 

 

O N E!

 

 

 

 

 

T W…

 

…But Landon kicks out easily! Maddix whirls back to his feet before Blackwell can knock him back down again, and answers with a Standing Dropkick that reaches the heavens! Sacred is caught on the jaw and stumbles back into the corner, rubbing his cheek, but Maddix keeps on coming, running into the corner and leaping up high, digging his feet into The Australian’s chest, then dragging him back down and throwing him across the ring with a Monkey Flip!

 

“Impressive!” Cyclone if forced to admit. “Even after kicking out of a pinning predicament, Maddix has the presence of mind and the confidence to hit right back! Maybe we were wrong, Robert, maybe it’s Sacred that’s too confident!”

 

“He was slow getting up then, there’s no doubt about that,” replies Riley, “and Landon, taking after me of course, capitalized like any sneaky bastard should.”

 

Blackwell cries out as he hits the mat, shooting up from the mat following impact as he holds his back. Landon shows no mercy as he confidently steps forward and…

 

THWACK!

 

… Kicks the son of a bitch right in the spine! “OOH!” Even the fans are forced to cringe at that sharp, painful kick as Blackwell rolls away, and rightfully so. Landon tracks him down, however, and brings him to his feet, pushing him into the corner. The Disciple lets loose with a flurry of European Uppercuts, executed with precise perfection. Landon hopes these have stunned Blackwell enough as attempts an Irish Whip, but no sir, Sacred reverses the whip!

 

The two men sprint across the ring, Blackwell in close chase of Maddix, but the young champ puts one over on his elder, as he places his hands on the top rope and uses them to spring off the mat and hook his feet around Sacred’s neck! Maddix then lets go of the ropes and somersaults at the same time, taking Blackwell into the post with a headscissors!

 

“If there’s one thing old and grumpy Citizen Sacred hates, it’s being shown up by his juniors! But he’ll have to get used to it, because this certain Junior Leaguer is on a roll!” Cries Comet, starting to call from a bi-partisan standpoint.

 

“I’m just looking at my papers to check his recent history, and I find that he’s won his last TEN matches! Ten matches in a row, Cyclone! Only those worth their salt, and those who are worthy of greatness achieve that.”

 

“Well, I know one of us has done that.”

 

“Yes, yes we do.”

 

The fans are treated to a pleasant sight as they watch Blackwell moan and groan in pain, his shoulder still rammed up against the steel ring post. Maddix pulls the Aussie back out from the turnbuckles, pinning his shoulders down with a School Boy!

 

 

O N E!

 

 

The wily Disciple puts on cheating boots as he places his feet on the second rope for extra leverage!

 

 

 

 

 

T W OOOOOO!

 

… But Sacred kicks out! The fans hiss the Junior League Champion as Kivell shoots him a weary eye, knowing he was up to no good, but Maddix simply shrugs his shoulders and grins from ear to ear. As he lifts Blackwell to his feet he plays to the crowd, raising his arm and nodding his head wit satisfaction and they respond in kind with angry boos.

 

They get a measure of revenge through Sacred, though, as he directs a punch straight at Landon’s kidneys! He then fires off a few more before climbing back to his feet and hitting the champ with a few deadly trademark forearms. The Aussie whips his foe into the ropes and awaits his return, lifting him into the air as he does and spinning him around, looking for a tilt-a-whirl…

 

“… But Maddix lands back on his feet!” Announces Cyclone with surprise. “He didn’t even have to correct his landing, such is the strength Citizen Landon has in those legs of his!”

 

Blackwell scowls, immediately taking hold of Landon, looking for another Hip Toss, but it’s countered! Maddix twists around and nails Sacred in the stomach with a rising knee, and then places his leg across the back of Blackwell’s neck, using the Australian as a springboard as he flips into the air and lands behind him!

 

The fans, recognizing a little showmanship, boo the young man, and even more so when he grabs Sacred in a reverse face lock and slams him down with a Diving Reverse DDT!

 

Kivell is just about to move into a position to count when Landon calmly gets to his feet, positioning himself accordingly, before back flipping from a standing position, and crashing down on top of Sacred with a Standing Star Press!

 

“Wow! Just… wow! Now Landon moves into a cover… ONE! TWO COUNT… NO! Two count only! Sacred gets a shoulder up! Bit I am most impressed at the way Citizen Maddix is going about this contest, as he’s taking right too the Hall of Famer, and doing it with a little flash and panache!”

 

“Amazing work! Granted, not exactly my style, but I appreciate the fact he’s trying to show up his opponent, it’s what I would do, after all.”

 

Cyclone reiterates, “but that opponent is one of the most nasty, bitter and jaded men on the roster! Maddix better watch himself and not become too big for his britches, or Citizen Sacred might just crack!”

 

Maddix takes the time to clap himself out as though he had just hit a nice tee shot, before picking the crushed Aussie from the mat and lifting him to his feet. Rearing back, building up tension, Landon…

 

CRACK!

 

Nails a knife-edge chop on the Australian! Seeing as the crowd doesn’t feel up to reacting, as they normally would do, Landon does himself as he cries out “WHOO!” after each vicious blow!

 

CRACK!

 

“WHOO!”

 

Riley admires the kid’s guts. “I see Blackwell’s reputation hasn’t proceeded him, as Maddix continues to, dare I say, dominate!”

 

CRACK!

 

“WHOO!”

 

The final blow infuriates Sacred as Landon pushes him into the ropes, ready for an Irish Whip… but Sacred reverses it! Landon is not put off at all as he bounces from the strands, ducking underneath a rare clothesline attempt from Sacred. Maddix continues on to the opposite ropes and comes back again, but this time, Sacred catches him, lifting him up into the air as if for a Spinebuster!

 

The Aussie holds on to his foe though, locking his arm over the top of Landon’s with a front face lock. With Maddix’s legs wrapped around him, trying to hold on for dear life, Blackwell suddenly rips into Landon, wrenching his neck back and he cries out, trying to do as much damage as possible.

 

Sacred then links his hands together tightly; almost wrapping Maddix up into a ball, before yanking back on his neck and suplexing him over!

 

“OOH!” The fans cry along with Cyclone, cringing at the mere sight of that move. “I have NO idea what that was, but Sacred is fired up, as he looks to do as much damage as possible, especially on that neck!”

 

“He’s continuing Alan Clark’s work on that neck of Landon’s, and in spectacular fashion! Something had to give sooner or later, and Sacred had decide he had had enough of this young punk treading on his turf!”

 

Landon rolls up into a ball, cursing as the pain rips through his neck, but for Blackwell it’s time to celebrate! The Sacred One grabs Maddix by the hair and pulls him onto two feet, repaying the favor as he hits a HARD Knife-Edge chop!

 

CRACK!

 

“WHOO!”

 

Blackwell decides to do away with the technical shite and begins to slug away with stiff forearm blows! The Australian whips around the Grand Slam champ, locking onto his waist, but before he can link his arms together, Landon sprints forward, grabbing onto the top rope!

 

He breaks the German Suplex attempt, but finds an angry Andrew Blackwell charging after him! Landon dives onto the mat and takes Blackwell down just in time, tripping him into a precarious position draped across the second rope with a drop toe hold!

 

Landon channels the spirit of Rey Mysterio Jr. as he twirls his finger, much to the fans displeasure. The Disciple backs into the ropes behind him, then sprints like a gazelle across the squared circle, grabbing hold of the ropes and twirling around like an acrobat, latching onto Blackwell’s neck like it were his mother’s teat!

 

“Now that comparison was just uncalled for,” remarks a rather disgusted Cyclone Comet.

 

“His tenacity is just marvelous! He must have felt his neck twinge after that brutal, brutal suplex, but he wastes no time this kid! And now it’s time for the Whiparound!”

“Gosh darn it, Robert! I should be calling these moves; after all, I follow the Junior League, not you! You’ve just reading off of a flamin’ sheet!”

 

“This guy feeding information into my ear is really helping too, I must say.”

 

The risk taker lives up to his name, as he attempts to headscissor Blackwell onto the floor. He lets go of the ropes with his hands, as he tries to drag Sacred through the ropes while he falls to the ground below…

 

But Sacred, ever the wise old vet, simply grabs hold of the ropes for dear life, and Maddix loses his hold as the noose around Sacred’s neck is broken, and he falls and lands NECK AND HEAD first onto the floor!

 

The tangled position Landon is left in forces Comet to turn away like a girl. “ICK! Oh my lordy lord, Maddix has been plastered across the concrete floor! That’s just sick…”

 

“Suck it up, Comet! Blackwell is now my favourite again after that simple, yet so damn effective tactic! Let’s see that again on slow motion replay…”

 

Riley grins gleefully as the replay appears in split screen, and we watch Maddix fold up like a broken accordion and sprawl out across the floor. Blackwell looks down from his vantage point between the second and third rope, most pleased with his handiwork, but not satisfied in the slightest.

 

The Australian of the Year climbs onto two feet, brushing the mattered hair and sweat across his forehead away. On the outside, Landon sucks it up and slowly, but surely, gets back onto his feet, his neck burning after that vicious fall. Blackwell hopes to makes life worse for the youngster as he runs across the ring as Maddix prepares himself, but Sacred fakes him out by imitating Landon’s Whiparound, but landing back on his feet inside the ring!

 

The Sacred One mockingly laughs, smirking at his junior, before placing his hands on the top rope and catapulting himself up and OVER the top rope, landing smack bang in the middle of Landon’s chest with a flying Body Splash!

 

“Now the tables are turned it seems,” notes Riley, chuckling. “Sacred makes the most of Landon’s mistake, but goes that extra step to act like a real dick. Beautiful.”

 

“It’s despicable, I say! But it was a long time coming for Sacred, who hasn’t taken too kindly to this young whippersnapper…”

 

The thud heard as the two hit the concrete echoes and causes the fans nearby to cringe, but luckily, Sacred is safe after using Maddix as a human shield.

 

“ONE!”

 

As Matty Kivell institutes a count, Blackwell scoops the Human shield up from the mat and takes his time, deciding what his punishment should be. Blackwell yanks on Landon’s arm and pulls him violently into the…

 

CLANG!

 

…Steel ring post! Maddix’s head snaps back upon impact as he stumbles backward into Blackwell’s waiting arms. Kivell’s count reaches “THREE!” as Sacred lifts Landon carelessly into the air, but that carelessness allows Landon to flip out of the move! The Young champions grins as he proves what goes around, comes around by pushing Blackwell into the steel ring post!

 

CLUNK!

 

“I don’t know where he gets his hidden reserves from!” Cries Cyclone, shaking his head in disbelief. “Citizen Landon is trying desperately to put the pain in his neck behind him because he knows what’s at stake, and even I have to admire that!”

 

“But something’s gotta give, Comet, and Sacred isn’t going to stop assaulting that neck if it means bringing him down for the one, two, three.”

 

“FIVE!”

 

Kivell begins to count just a little bit faster, wanting the contest back in the ring. Maddix obliges, but not before slamming Sacred’s head against the ring apron for good measure. Landon rolls himself and Blackwell back into the ring, rubbing his neck to gain some feeling back and quell the swelling pain.

 

He and Blackwell climb on onto their feet in time, recovering from the feeling of hitting cold, hard steel. Blackwell runs a hand through his wavy hair, only to find blood on his hand from a cut just above his forehead. The Australian looks at the crimson fluid, then back at Maddix, who himself has blood dripping from his nose.

 

Surveying the scene and watching each man carefully, Comet says, “I hope these two have learnt their lessons now, Robert. Both these self-absorbed, foul miscreants were too confident, too cocky, too brash for their own good, and tried to one up each other instead of keeping the goal, the final destination, the ultimate objective, the real purpose…”

 

“Thesaurus, in my hand, right now,” demands Riley.

 

From this temporary but intense standoff, Blackwell is the first to move, trying for a Spin Kick, but Maddix ducks! Sacred turns around, just in time to see Landon fire off a massive Superkick!

 

But Blackwell catches him by the foot! The Australian leaves Maddix hanging for a bit, before spinning him around. Landon uses this to build up some momentum and suddenly burst at Sacred with a clothesline! But Blackwell counters, taking Landon’s arm on the way through and following it up by grabbing his opposite arm, trying to drag him down with a Backslide!

 

The ever-nimble Maddix uses his superior leg strength to leap high into the air, and flip over to land in front of Sacred! Blackwell arms are shaken lose and he is soon doubled over by a kick to the bread basket, as Landon places one arm around Sacred’s neck, and the other between his legs…

 

 

WHAM!

 

 

…Nailing him with an EXPLODER!

 

The Disciple moves into the cover, making sure to hook Sacred by the leg…

 

 

O N E!

 

 

 

 

 

 

T W O!

 

But the shoulder is up after two! Landon wastes no time in lifting Blackwell back to his feet, taking him by the hand but not by the heart as he whips Blackwell into a rising knee lift! And again! Landon finishes him off, whipping him into the turnbuckles chest first.

 

As Sacred thumps into the turnbuckles he is sent hurtling back where Maddix lies in wait. As Sacred turns around, Landon boldly reaches underneath him, hooking his leg and then his neck, lifting him into position for a…

 

“FISHERMAN BUSTAH!” Comet cries, using the Asian accent he picked up while filming on location. “The ledger could be squared with just this move, as Maddix looks to drop Blackwell from a deadly angle, and why wouldn’t he as he feels the pain in his own neck!”

 

Always the opportunist, Blackwell halts Landon’s progress wrenches down on Landon’s neck, causing Maddix to lose his grip for a split second while pain shoots through his injured neck. Blackwell uses this distraction to twist in mid air and fall safely behind his foe!

 

Landon tries to pull himself together in time but his neck just strains too much, and Sacred just makes it worse by clubbing him relentlessly with stiff forearm shots, behind suddenly slipping his arms around Maddix’s waist and lifting him into the air…

 

… Sacred makes a point to hoist Landon up at a dangerous angle, higher than usual, before slamming him down on the back of his neck with a GERMAN SUPLEX! He keeps a firm grasp as he holds on with the bridge!

 

 

O N E!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

T W OOOOOOOO!

 

Landon gets a shoulder off the mat after two! The fans sigh, thinking that may just have been enough, but La Cucaracha has plenty of fuel left in the tank yet…

 

But he may not do, as Blackwell rolls off to the side, keeping a firm hold of Landon as he slowly climbs back to his feet, making sure Maddix doesn’t escape!

 

“Maddix may have survived the first German…” Riley cries. “But how can he survive a second!? Sacred may not be the most pure wrestling technician in the world, but he sure does know his German’s, and he knows how to deliver them with deadly force and pin-point accuracy for greatest effect!”

 

“General Liman von Sanders!”

 

“… I’m sorry?” Asks a clearly befuddled Bobby Riley as he watches Comet try to get Sacred’s attention.

 

From the ring, Blackwell hears Comet’s cry and gives him a thumbs up shouting something about him being made Commander of the Turkish First Army. Sacred dedicates this Suplex to Sanders as this time, he takes hold of Landon’s hand, crossing them over and pinning them against his chest, before heaving the Disciple off his feet, into the air…

 

… And back down again with a CROSS-ARMED German Suplex!

 

Cyclone predicts confidently that, “This HAS to be it! Two German Suplexes in a row! And Sacred has Maddix’s arms in a bind, how could he hope to get out of this!?”

 

“I haven’t seen many people escape from the straightjacket before. Maddix would have to be Houdini, or a close relative to ever do so!”

 

Kivell slides over, slamming his palm against the mat as the fans begin to count in time with the beat…

 

 

“O N E!”

 

 

 

 

“T W O!”

 

 

 

 

“T”

 

 

 

 

 

 

“H”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“RRRRRRRREEEEEEEE…”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

… NO! MADDIX BREAKS FREE! The Young Champion shows so much heart as he breaks free from Blackwell’s clutches and gets his shoulder off of the mat! The fans may admire his guts, but they don’t let it shows as they continue to hurl abuse his way as Sacred sits back up, looking on in utter disbelief, wondering just what it will take.

 

“The true markings of a champion,” Cyclone admits. “He may be a cocky son of a gun, but he has what it takes to back it up! Citizen Blackwell is infuriated right now, and so he bloody well should be, Landon Maddix just escaped from two German’s in a row!”

 

“What is this, The Great Escape?” Riley remarks, snickering to no one but himself. “But in all seriousness, this is a truly gutsy display we’re seeing right here, and I don’t think Maddix is going to give up any time soon.”

 

“Of course not! He’s come so far, fought the best the Junior League had to offer and prevailed over them all! Now Citizen Landon hopes to beat one of the SWF’s best and, well, who knows what could happen from there!”

 

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” replies Riley, stopping Cyclone right there. “He may have escaped from those devastating Suplexes, but his neck has felt the brunt of Blackwell’s offense, and if he has any glimmer of hope to win this match, he has to avoid just about ANYTHING involving the neck.”

 

“Looks like he won’t be taking part in the annual post-Clusterfeck apple bobbing competition then…” replies Comet with a disappointed sigh.

 

Glaring at Kivell, Blackwell climbs back to his feet, casting a shadow much larger than his six foot one frame as he looms over Landon Maddix, who crawls away, hoping to employ the aid of the turnbuckles to climb back to his feet. The Australian batters him as he does, nailing him with forearm after forearm to the side of the head!

 

With an Irish Whip Sacred sends Landon across the ring, slamming him into the turnbuckles so hard he bounces back, dazed and obviously confused. The Aussie sends a tired kick towards his midsection, doubling him over, before grabbing him by the waist and throwing his arm over his shoulder…

 

Cyclone ponders, cringing at what the outcome could be. “What has this diabolical, filthy convict got in mind? There’s so many Citizen Blackwell he can do from this position, so much pain he can inflict, but what will it be…?”

 

Lifting his opponent high into the air, pointing towards the sky with a vertical base, Blackwell looks around, giving an cruel smile, before letting Maddix land safely behind him, albeit, with his neck still in Sacred’s grasp…

 

“HANGMAN’S NOOSE!” Cries Bobby. “If he hits this, it’s all over by the shouting! Good night Maddix! You put up one hell of a fight!”

 

But Landon proves Riley wrong, very wrong, as he sends elbows flying, catching Sacred right in the head! The Aussie’s grip loosens just long enough for Maddix to spin back around and grab Blackwell’s head underneath his arm!

 

Landon charges forward, leaping onto the top rope to spring board off, but as he does, Blackwell shrugs him off and he loses his grip! But even though his neck is feeling the pinch, his legs are in perfect working order, and he manages to land back on the ring apron!

 

“He’s taking your advice, Bobbo, and it seems to be working! He knew that if that Neckbreaker were to hit, it would spell certain doom for Citizen Maddix, and he did everything he could to counter!”

 

“And even when it looked like he would be destroyed on the concrete floor once again, he hung on by the slimmest of margins to keep his hopes alive!” Riley shouts, getting behind the young man.

 

All Sacred hears is a satisfying ‘thud’ behind him, and he lets out of a smile, knowing it’s all downhill from here. He raises his arm to the crowd, acknowledging their support, but they fire back with nothing but, “BOOOO!”

 

Blackwell just shrugs as he begins to turn back around, until he is met with the most astonishing sight…

 

… As Landon Maddix ducks between the second and third ropes to charge him shoulder first into the ribs! The Australian clutches his midsection as Landon catapults himself from the apron and over the top rope, taking Sacred around the waist in mid-air and rolling him up with a Sunset Flip!

 

“THIS COULD BE IT!” The announcers cry in unison and secretly hope!

 

 

“O N E!”

 

 

 

 

 

“T W O!”

 

 

 

 

 

“T“

 

 

 

“H”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“R”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE…”

 

NO! Sacred wriggles and writhes just enough to break free and roll through, back onto his feet! Maddix meets him toe-to-toe and eye-to-eye, but not for very long as he is forced to duck underneath a forearm blow from Sacred!

 

“This is remarkable endurance from the nineteen year old, simply remarkable,” admires Riley, shaking his head in mere disbelief. “Dare I say it, but it seems he is stepping out of Todd Royal’s shadow and making a name for himself as the nest big thing.”

 

“To put up with so much punishment on the neck from Citizen’s Clark and Blackwell, and still have enough to perform high flying maneuvers is astonishing, there’s no two ways about it!”

 

Even for some of the crowd, who always find themselves jeering whenever Maddix is in the ring, are now cheering, hoping young Maddix can take Blackwell the distance and beyond. He fights on despite their ‘support’, leaping onto Blackwell’s shoulders and begins to pound away relentlessly!

 

Blackwell staggers around the squared circle, trying to swat Landon away, but the tenacious bastard holds on for fear life! Sacred attempts to throw La Cucaracha from his shoulders and onto the top turnbuckle as he prints forward, but Landon suddenly hops down from his shoulders, appearing behind the Australian, pushing him chest first into the turnbuckles!

 

Knowing this is his time; Landon builds up a tremendous amount of speed as he sprints across the canvas, using Blackwell’s entire body as a stepladder as he plants a foot into his thigh, then his chest, springing off with his knee extended…

 

The fans gasp…

 

… As Landon NAILS Sacred square across the forehead with the SHINING WIZARD!

 

“OH MY LORD AND HEAVEN’S ABOVE!” Clamors Comet, jumping out of his seat. “Excuse my blasphemy loyal citizens, but Landon may have just turned this entire match!”

 

“You’re god damn right he has, Cyclone!” Bellows a just as excited Bobby Riley. “When Sacred seemed to have this wrapped up, ready to seal the deal, Landon reached deep down inside and pulled out something special!”

 

“I’m glad he’s not like you in that respect, at least.”

 

The Australian falls onto his knees, the cut on his forehead suddenly opening up far more than it was, as blood begins to flow freely down his face, but he seems not to notice as he hits the mat face first. Landon looks up, watching the fans roar to life. He then looks back at Blackwell, who lies motionless with blood trickling onto the canvas. Landon scrambles across, wasting no time at this pivotal moment as he hooks Sacred by the leg, while Kivell is in fantastic position to initiate the count!

 

 

“O N E!”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“T W O!”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“T”

 

 

 

“H”

 

 

 

 

 

“R”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“E”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!”

 

 

 

 

…

 

 

 

NO! SACRED KICKS OUT! The crowd go absolutely nuts!

 

“But… how? Citizen Maddix put his ALL into that Shining Wizard, summoning the spirit of Citizen Mutoh, but it’s just not to be!”

 

Riley offers a simple explanation. “Landon Maddix has made him look like a chump, like a rookie all over again. Blackwell’s taken him too lightly and now he’s paying for it, but he won’t go down THAT easily!”

 

This time, Landon is the one is disbelief. He looks down at Sacred, who by now has blood covering his forward and matted in his hair. Maddix lifts the grizzled Aussie to his feet, yanking him up by the hair. As he does, Blackwell tries to fire back with right hands to the kidneys, but Landon quickly puts him back in his place with a knee to the face.

 

Landon looks across at the turnbuckles, devious intentions in mind as he raises his arms to the crowd, pointing to the corner. The crowd responds in kind, chanting…

 

“CRASH LAN-DON!”

 

“CRASH LAN-DON!”

 

“CRASH LAN-DON!”

 

“Listen to that, Comet!?” asks riley. “They WANT Maddix to win here tonight, whether they like him or not!”

 

“That just proves how skillful, and how talented Citizen Maddix truly is! To have the crowd behind you on every move, it’s a very rare thing, but these fans are desperate for more! They’ve put his past transgressions in the back of their mind right now, because they, like me, want to see the class of 2003 hit it big in the SWF!”

 

Maddix sets to electrify the crowd once more, as he sends Blackwell into the turnbuckles with an Irish Whip. As Blackwell stumbles forth, Landon charges across he ring, leaping onto the second rope beside Blackwell, then the top rope, twisting around and…

 

CRACK!

 

… Nailing Sacred in the back of the head with a Triple Jump ENZIGURI! The crowd pop for the athletic display that Maddix has shown, but prepare for more as Maddix lands on the top rope, standing on the second while sitting on the third, taking Blackwell over the shoulder…

 

“This is IT!” Riley finally cries, this time positive he knows for sure.

 

He, like everyone else, waits on baited breath, unable to speak as Landon Maddix takes the plunge and leaps off the second rope…

 

But the silence is ceased abruptly as Sacred suddenly takes hold of Maddix, wrapping his arms around his waist and snapping backwards with break neck speed…

 

As Landon crashes down, but not as he would have hoped…

 

 

…

 

 

 

 

WHAM!

 

 

 

 

…

 

 

 

The crowd gasps as Landon is sent driving into the mat, nearly head first with a NORTHERN LIGHTS BRAINBUTER! The crowd is rabid, absolutely insane as Blackwell falls onto Landon’s lifeless body, as Kivell makes the count…

 

 

“O N E!”

 

 

 

 

 

 

“T W O!”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“T”

 

 

 

 

“H”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“R”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“E”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE…”

 

 

 

 

 

 

… But Blackwell has already moved out of the cover as he turns Maddix over onto his stomach, locking his arms in a double Chickenwing before flipping over into the bridge, locking on the CATTLE MUTILATION!

 

“WHY!? Blackwell had Maddix done and dusted, he wasn’t getting up, he DECIMATED him with that Brainbuster!” Cyclone cries out in vain. “WHY would he break up the pin to lock in the Narcosynthesis…?”

 

“That’s how much Maddix has pushed him to the limit,” replies Riley, simply but perfectly put. “He’s matched him at every turn, and now Sacred needs to know for sure, he needs to secure the victory with the move his brother used to claim the European championship…”

 

No matter how much he tries to work through the pain, to crawl desperately to the ropes in front of him, they just seem like a mirage as Blackwell cinches in the hold as hard as he possibly can, begging for Landon to give up. The fans stand up as one, watching on as they roar to life…

 

 

 

 

 

…

 

 

 

 

 

But Landon can’t take much more strain on his neck as it finally tweaks, and he’s taken to the greatest threshold of pain.

 

He is finally forced to cry out, “I GIVE UP!”

 

…

 

DING! DING! DING!

 

“IT’S OVER! IT’S ALL OVER!” Riley shouts, forced out of his seat by the mere tension and emotion of the moment. “Landon Maddix, after ten straight victories, two Junior League titles and the pain no one would ever wish upon anyone as finally given up! I thought for sure he could pull this out, but I guess it was not to be…”

 

The crowd is up in arms as Blackwell lets the hold go as soon as the bell is rung as blood seeps into his eyes and down into his mouth until he can almost taste it. But, he also tastes victories, which is confirmed as Funyon gets on the mic and proclaims…

 

“The winner of this match via Submission and the… N E W! UNIFIED UNITED STATES AND JUNIOR LEAGUE CHAMPION… SAAACCCRRREEEDDDD!”

 

“Tainted” kicks up as the fans still CANNOT believe their eyes, and they let out a long, disappointed sigh as they watch Maddix groan in immense pain, his neck about ready to break on it’s own. Kivell is handed the titles from ringside as Megan Skye rushes down the ramp way and slides into the ring, tending to her friend in more than just the role of a valet.

 

Comet looks on, witnessing the scene. “Well, he did it! The cowardly, craven convict finally did it! He has defeated Landon Maddix to capture the titles and unify them, marking another page in history! But god, I can’t go on without congratulating Landon Maddix, who, even with a bad neck coming INTO this match, went he whole nine yards and even further for his dream, and for that, I applaud him.”

 

As Blackwell looks down at his opponent, battered, bruised and bleeding just as he is, Kivell comes into picture with a smile on his face, ready to hand the Unified Champion his titles. Sacred holds his hand up to pause Matthew, as he reaches down…

 

… And offers to help Maddix to his feet. Landon looks at Blackwell, then at Skye, and then suddenly cringes as pain shoots through his neck and down his spine. He swallows his pride and accepts the help, climbing back to his feet as Sacred simply nods to him in a show of respect.

 

“I didn’t think Citizen Sacred was capable of it, but he shows he has at least a little class and dignity left in him and I am more than glad to see that,” Comet kindly notes.

 

“Hell, anyone would show their respect after what Landon went through, and take my word for it, he’ll be back next week, and determined to chase gold once again…”

 

As Sacred walks away from Landon and Skye, he looks back, staring at Megan and smiling, before leaving the ring. Matthew Kivell rushes around ringside to meet him, handing him his titles, throwing two over his shoulders and wrapping the Junior League world title around his waist. Blackwell walks back up the ramp way without a fuss, as the fans watch him go, still having the audacity to jeer the man…

 

“Phew, I’m stuffed,” remarks Riley, putting a cold towel to his forehead. “Are we about done yet? I don’t think my vocal chords will take another beating like that.”

 

“What are you talking about, man!? The Clusterfeck is up next, and it’s going to be HUGE! But we’ll get to it in due time. Here, quench your thirst with a Pepsi Max!”

 

“I think I’d rather applaud Landon Maddix out of the ring. These two wrestled pushed themselves to the limit for those championships, and they did the Junior League proud, and SWF proud tonight.”

 

“Indeed chum, and I hope we see these two in a rematch in the future, as I’m sure we no doubt will! Don’t you go anywhere, though! Theirs is so much more SWF action to go, so stay tuned!”

 

The picture fades into a video package for the Clusterfuck with the previous winners of years gone by, beginning with legend, Pimp Daddy Sarp…

[Guest Suicide King]

“AND WE’RE GOING TO GO TO OHIO AND WIN THE SWF CLUSTERFUCK, AND THEN WE’RE GOING TO FROM THE FIRE AND WE’RE GONNA TAKE BACK THE SWF WORLD CHAMPIONSHIP……YEAAAAAAAAAAAH!

 

…the following advertisement has been paid for by supporters of the Howard Dean: For America campaign.”

 

Flaw’s “Only the Strong” rocks the Gund Arena as the one and only SWF Clusterfuck returns onto the air! The capacity crowd of over twenty thousand Ohioans ROARS with delight as they all try to get on the special, super-powered pay per view style camera! Signs flash by the camera, including, but not limited to:

 

“GRAPPLER – BORING 19 OTHERS OVER THE TOP!”

 

“CRAVEN ALL THE WAY? HE CAN’T LAST 2 MINUTES WITH AMY!”

 

“JIMMY LISTON SHOCKS THE WORLD!”

 

“HEY CLARK: EAT A BAG OF DICKS, HIPPY!”

 

Finally, the camera zooms around to ringside, where Cyclone Comet and Bobby Riley sit at ringside, decked in traditional three-piece-suit pay per view attire. The two men are thumb wrestling, with Riley pinning Comet after kicking him in the wrist and using the announce table for leverage. When they notice the camera, they turn to face it, Comet taking a drink of his refreshingly crisp Pepsi Max®.

 

“Humanoids across the globe,” Riley greets warmly, “welcome back to S – W – F CLUSTERFUCK two thousand and four! We’ve already seen two AWESOME matches tonight, but-“

 

“HELLOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!” greets Comet, finally swallowing, “I’m Cyclone Comet alongside Bobbo Riley, and welcome back to…oh, right. IT’S TIME FOR THE CLUSTER – EFF!”

 

“…Comet, you can say ‘Clusterfuck’ for this show, seeing as it IS the name of the pay per view and all.”

 

“Yes, citizens, the CLUSTER – EFF is the one time a year where twenty of the SWF’s prime fighters –not to be confused with Prime Evil- square off in an over the top battle royal to see who will challenge the SWF Champion at From the Fire!”

 

“…and I think they know the premise of the show. Why the hell would they order it if they didn’t know what was going on?”

 

“We have some very stupid, very loyal citizens out there, Bobbo.”

 

“Next thing you’ll tell me is he can sit on his hind legs and play dead, too.”

 

“Regardless, citizens, this is shaping up to be on of the greatest Cluster-effs of all time! Citizen Michael Craven has been punished with the #1 entry…the boring, but effective Citizen Matthews was rewarded with the #20 entry. Of course, in between the bread lies an 18-superstar sandwich, ready to reach up and grab the top prize; that being an SWF Title shot.”

 

“Mmmm…man sandwich………and Comet, you are completely correct. Any man is a wildcard out there tonight; John Duran, HVT, and hell, even some of those JLers! Todd Royal, in particular. Todd bless ‘em, I think he has a true chance in this match.”

 

“Well, I think the waiting game is over, Bobbo! Let’s head over to Funyon for introductions!”

 

The camera pans over to the ring, where Funyon holds a banana to his lips.

 

*DING DING DING*

 

“Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is the twenty-man over the top rope CLUSTERFUCK match! Two men start in the ring, and every two minutes, another entrant will enter the ring. The only way to be eliminated is be thrown over the top rope and have both feet touch the floor. The winner of this match will go on to From the Fire to face the SWF Champion!”

 

“Uhh, Comet,” begins Riley, “didn’t we just go over that?”

 

*BOOM!*

 

Pyro explodes on the stage as Lincoln Park’s “Don’t Stay” blasts through the speakers in the Gund Arena! As the figure approaches from the curtain, the crowd showers him with boos.

 

“Introducing entrant NUMBER ONE!” bellows Funyon, “From Tampa, Florida, weighing in at 280 pounds, this is THE NIGHTMARE, MICHAAAAAAAAAAAAAEL CRAAAAAAAAAAAAAVEN!!!!”

 

Craven slowly makes his way down the ramp, intently focused on the ring. As he reaches ringside he slides under the bottom rope and leans against a corner, waiting for his first of nineteen opponents.

 

*BOOM!*

 

*BOOM!*

 

 

*BOOOOOOOOOOOM!*

 

Even MORE pyro showers the Gund as Andrew WK’s “Ready to Die” hits. The crowd, difficultly put, explodes! The Spectacle comes racing down to the ring as Funyon begins again.

 

“And now, entrant number two! From Harrison, Illinois, this is MIKE – VAN – SIIIIIIIIIIIIICLENNNNNNNNNNNN!!!!!!!!!!”

 

Funyon can barely even get THESE words out, as MVS slides under the bottom rope and is immediately bum-rushed by the diabolical Craven!

 

“Good god!” proclaims Comet, “The Spectacle with The Testicles, Mike Van Siclen, is the number two entrant in this Cluster-eff!”

 

“Please don’t tell me that’s your new pet name for Siclen,” groans Riley.

 

“I apologize, Bobbo, and I apologize to anyone that statement may have shocked or appalled. Irregardless-“

 

“-Regardless,” interrupts Riley.

 

“…regardless,” continues Comet, “Mike has made it well known that he’s out there to WIN the Cluster-eff here tonight, and he has a long journey ahead of him if he wants to make that promise come true!”

 

The Nightmare begins stomping down on MVS, refusing to let up. Finally, Craven brings Mike up to his feet and grabs him by the arm, pushing him against the ropes and whipping him across to the other side of the ring. MVS hits the ropes and rebounds…but ducks under the swinging arm of the Gulf Coast Nightmare! Van Siclen grabs the other arm of Craven as he ducks behind him, and applies a simple hammerlock! Craven looks almost offended as MVS executes the elementary move, but Siclen is nothing but serious as he cranks the hold in. Craven allows the other Mike to milk the hold for a while, but then decides to take over, as he sends a backhand fist right into MVS’ face! Van Siclen staggers backward and Craven turns around, slamming hard forearm smashes into his opponent’s temple. Craven again grabs Van Siclen by the arm and whips him towards the ropes, but this time he holds onto his arm and pulls him back, before bundling him over the top rope!

 

 

…but MVS holds on! Siclen is able to stay on the apron, as he carefully slides back into the ring. Craven is nonplussed, however, and he continues the ground attack on the Spectacle. Craven brings MVS up and stands behind him, sending a hard fist into Siclen’s kidney. The force pushes MVS onto his knees, where he hangs onto the middle rope. Craven backs up but then charges forward, looking for a straddle attack. Siclen is thinking ahead, though, and he is able to remove himself from the rope, and Craven straddles the middle rope! The crowd roars as Craven gets caught in the compromising position, but Van Siclen stays focused, as he grabs the Nightmare by the head and traps him in an inverted facelock. MVS swiftly drops backward, pulling Craven out of the ropes while executing a HARD, innovative reverse DDT!

 

“And Van Siclen hits the first big move of the match!” cheers Comet, “this can ONLY lead to lakes, candy canes, and bunnies for the Spectacle!”

 

“I’m sorry, Comet,” starts Riley, “my sarcasm meter is a little wonky. You weren’t…oh, right, you don’t HAVE sarcasm. I think you’re lacking EVERYTHING that starts with an ‘s’ and ends with an ‘m’.”

 

“How DARE you, Bobbo! I have plenty of sperm! You saw it in the movies I brought back from-“

 

“OKAY! Wrong thing to say! *VERY* wrong! Let’s get back to the match!”

 

“M – V – S!”

 

“M – V – S!”

 

“M – V – S!”

 

For the first time in the match, Van Siclen has time to acknowledge the rabid Ohio fans, and they respond in kind. MVS stays in the match, however, and he brings Craven up to his feet. The Spectacle sends two hard kicks into Craven’s midsection to double him over before grabbing him by the arm and whipping him towards the nearest turnbuckle…but Craven reverses! The Nightmare uses his weight advantage to turn the tables, as MVS goes hard back-first into the turnbuckle. With a full head of steam, the Nightmare follows Van Siclen in…but MVS is able to lower his shoulder and use Craven’s momentum against him, backdropping him up and OVER THE TOP ROPE!

 

…but Craven lands on the apron! Showing surprising agility for a man of his size, Craven holds onto the top rope and refrains from elimination. Before Van Siclen even realizes what happened, Craven shoots an elbow into the back of his head, staggering him forward. Craven quickly ascends to the top rope, and as MVS slowly turns around, the big man launches off, feet forward, catching Van Siclen in the chest with an enormous missile dropkick! The Spectacle drops like a sack of bricks, and Craven rushes over to him, clasping his hand across his throat and choking the life out of him!

 

“That bastardly, dastardly Craven!” shouts Comet, “he’s just taking advantage of the no disqualification rule, and he could choke Mike to death!”

 

“Oh come on, Comet, that’s no fun!” retorts Riley, “I mean, what good is tossing your opponent over the top rope if you can’t see their surprised, disgusted face after doing so? Plus, the Gund would smell even worse than it already does if someone DIED in here.”

 

“CRA – VEN – SUCKS!”

 

“CRA – VEN – SUCKS!”

 

With no referees to stop him, Craven keeps the choke on for well above five seconds, but decides to release it and continue the match. He brings MVS up to his feet and sends a kick into his gut…but Siclen catches the foot! Thinking quickly, the Nightmare spins his other leg around for an enzuiguri, but Van Siclen ducks this, and Craven falls to the mat flat on his face! MVS keeps a hold of the leg and grabs the other, turning Craven onto his back. As the Official Clusterfuck Timer™ begins to count, MVS places his foot in Craven’s crotch and pulls back on the legs, executing the Rectal Stretch!

 

“Now what about THIS?!” cries Riley, “It’s bad to choke Mike to death, but Jesus, step on a man’s pride and joy and it’s A – OK!”

 

“Bobbo, that’s different. I’m sure Craven doesn’t really need those things now, anyway. He has…more important things to focus on.”

 

“Amy Craven’s a hot piece of ass and a Viking princess in the sack, Comet, MacPhisto told me so a while back. I’m sure Craven at least makes futile attempts to please her every night. He’s going to NEED those things. Trust me.”

 

“TEN!”

 

 

“NINE!”

 

 

“EIGHT!”

 

 

“SEVEN!”

 

 

“SIX!”

 

Finally, MVS releases the hold, and decides to turn around and face whoever entrant number 3 is.

 

“FIVE!”

 

 

“FOUR!”

 

 

“THREE!”

 

 

“TWO!”

 

 

“ONE!”

 

 

*BUZZZZZZZZZZZZZ*

 

Prong’s “Snap Your Fingers, Snap Your Neck” hits and the crowd gives a warm welcome of jeers to the newly-bumped JL Hate Machine!

 

“From Denver, Colorado,” booms Funyon, “this is MAAAAAAAAAAAAAAANSONNNNNNN!!!!!!!”

 

“And here we go!” starts Comet, “It’s the first member of the Smarks Junior League graduating class, ready to RUMBLE in the Cluster-eff!”

 

“I think there’s a name for people like him…I’m trying to think of it,” wanders Riley, “…oh, right, I think it’s ‘cannon fodder’.”

 

“Oh, that’s nonsense, Bobbo. Most of the new Junior Leaguers have never even squared off with these SWF veterans…I think you’ll be surprised tonight.”

 

“Not Manson, anyway, Comet. Manson’s been down there so long, I think EVERYONE has fought him.”

 

Manson charges from backstage, down the aisle, and slides into the ring. Mike Van Siclen is waiting for him, and the two men begin trading punches. Manson overpowers MVS with a knee to the midsection, however, and Mike doubles over. Manson traps the Spectacle in a front facelock and grabs him by the tights, easily lifting him upside down vertically in the air, before falling backward and slamming MVS down with a vertical suplex! Manson pops back up to his feet and begins stomping down on Siclen, until he is clubbed in the back of the head by a Craven forearm! Manson staggers forward and Craven tries to continue the assault, but the Hate Machine quickly drops to a knee and uses his free leg to sweep Craven’s legs out from under him!

 

“What do you know, Bobbo?” gloats Comet, “Manson is a RATHER LARGE ESTATE HOUSE THAT IS ON FIRE in that ring!”

 

“He lacks the finesse and style that will keep him in very long,” notes Riley, “kind of like your commentary.”

 

The Nightmare hits the mat hard, and Manson leaps into the air, sitting out and dropping his leg right across Craven’s throat! As he hits this, MVS begins to rise to his feet again, pulling himself up on the ropes. Seeing this, Manson gets up as well and charges at Mike, spinning around and driving a ROLLING ELBOW right into Van Siclen’s face! The force of the blow pushes Mike into a dangerous position near the top rope, and never one to pass up an opportunity, Manson lifts Mike’s legs up, trying to get him over the top rope! However, the tenacious Van Siclen holds onto the top rope, refusing to be eliminated so early. Manson finally gives up and turns around to dish more punishment to Michael Craven-

 

*BOOM!*

 

But it’s too late, as Craven sends a VICIOUS kick to Manson’s midsection. Craven quickly grabs a front facelock on the Hate Machine and drops backward, drilling him with a DDT!

 

“And the plucky underdog gets shot down!” cheers Riley, “I love it when stuff like this happens. It’s like that one time on that one show when they tried to resuscitate that one guy and you thought they were about to until…they DIDN’T, and it was so great.”

 

“Some of the things that come out of your mouth are very disturbing,” points out Comet, “and some are milky white and liquidy. But that’s your business, not mine.”

 

Relentlessly, Craven brings Manson up to his feet and grabs him by the arm, forcefully whipping him into the ropes. As Manson rebounds, Craven puts his head down, and Manson takes advantage of this by stopping himself and laying in three hard clubbing forearms to Craven’s neck! Manson then wraps his arms around the Nightmare’s waist, lifting him off his feet before dropping him crotch-first across his knee with an inverted atomic drop! As Michael tries to shake this off, Manson runs to the ropes behind Craven, and as he comes back, he leaps into the air, grabbing a headlock on the Nightmare as he falls, driving his head into the mat with a bulldog!

 

Manson pops up to his feet again, the impact of the DDT behind him. Before he can even taunt the fans, though, he’s taken down by a surprise Van Siclen clothesline!

 

*BOOM!*

 

The lariat is hit with remarkable force, and Manson flops down to the mat. With both adversaries on their backs, MVS decides to take a chance and ascend the turnbuckle to the top rope. With both Craven and Manson in perfect position, Van Siclen leaps off the turnbuckle in a sitting position, aiming to nail a picture perfect Guillotine Legdrop…

 

 

…but both men roll out of the way! Van Siclen hits nothing but canvas, and the Official Clusterfuck Timer™ begins again, starting the countdown for the match’s fourth entrant!

 

“Whoever comes out next is going to be at a great advantage!” notes Comet, “as all three men are DOWN, and could probably be eliminated at any time!”

 

“Of course, it could be one of those pesky leaguers,” snorts Riley, “and in that case, they’ll probably start sucking the life out of the ring and stealing everyone’s souls.”

 

“What on NEPTUNE are you babbling ON about?” shouts Comet, “I don’t know what your vendetta is against the Smarks Junior League, but I know for a fact that it was run by a highly respected staff that did NOT indulge in dirty laundry like bukkake and nude volleyball!”

 

…”EIGHT!”

 

 

“SEVEN!”

 

 

“SIX!”

 

 

“FIVE!”

 

 

“FOUR!”

 

 

“THREE!”

 

 

“TWO!”

 

 

“ONE!”

 

 

*BUZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ*

 

Nightrage’s “Hero” blasts into gear, and the fans in the Gund Arena BURST into an explosion of cheers!

 

“From Birmingham, England, in the United Kingdom, this is DAAAAAAAAAACE-“

 

“FUCKING!”

 

“-NIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIGHT!”

 

The High Priest of Horrorcore jogs out from behind the curtain and rushes to ringside, sliding under the bottom rope to enter the fray! With all three men down for the taking, Dace decides to rekindle his September rivalry and focus on Michael Craven! Night brings the NightMARE to his feet and rattles his brain with two hard elbows to the side of the head, before wrapping his arms around his midsection and charging forward, shoving Craven hard into the turnbuckle. Next, Dace rears back and slaps the side of his hand across Michael’s chest, eliciting a reaction from the crowd with each chop!

 

*SMACK!*

 

“WOOOOOOOOO!”

 

*SMACK!*

 

“WOOOOOOOOO!”

 

*SMACK!*

 

“WOOOOOOOOO!”

 

“THE HIGH PRIEST OF HORRORCORE!” rejoices Comet, “Dace Night, former Hardcore, Tag Team, and Intercontinental Television Champion, is laying waste to Michael Craven! What a wrecking ball of force and adrenaline!”

 

“Are you going to clean up that splooge spot on the floor, or should I?” asks Riley, disgusted.

 

“Well, Bobbo, at least it proves I have some things that start with an ‘s’ and end with an ‘m’!” Comet winks.

 

“Oh god, you are AWFUL, Comet.”

 

Manson, back on his feet, tries to intervene, but Night sees him out of the corner of his eye and shoots his free hand back with a backhand strike, rocking the Hate Machine’s world. Dace turns his attention away from Craven and instead kicks Manson hard in the gut, trapping him in a front facelock before lifting him up…and leaving him out to dry on the top rope! Like a flash, Craven charges out of the corner with his leg up, looking to take Dace out with a big boot…but Dace catches the leg and shoves the Nightmare down with a single leg takedown. Night attempts to take out the vertical base of the Nightmare and spin around that same leg, locking in a spinning toehold. Meanwhile, Manson pulls himself off the top rope and back into the ring, albeit on his back. Night begins turning around for another rotation on the toehold, but MVS makes his presence known as he hops forward and shoots out a superkick that catches Dace right in the jaw!

 

*CRACK!*

 

“And all good things must come to an end!” says Riley, rubbing it in Comet’s face, “as Dace goes SPLAT on the mat from a Mike Van Siclen superkick. I would’ve preferred it to be someone like Craven executing the move, but hey, gloaters can’t be…uh, choosers.”

 

“Bobbo, that means NOTHING in the big realm of things. Did Dace go over the top rope and have both of his feet touch the floor? No. Therefore, it was insignificant.”

 

“Good job putting Van Siclen over, piss ant.”

 

“You annoy me OH so much, Bobbo.”

 

Dace drops down to the mat, and once again, Van Siclen is the only one on his feet. This time he doesn’t go to the top rope, but instead attempts to throw someone OVER it. MVS walks over to Manson, but the Hate Machine is already on his knees and he able to surprise Mike with a punch right to the midsection. Siclen doubles over, and as Manson rises to his feet he swings his leg around with a stiff roundhouse kick, right to Mike’s leg! This causes MVS’ leg to buckle, and he drops to HIS knees. Manson then swings his leg around again, this time catching Mike right in the side of the head!

 

*CRAAAACK!*

 

“Manson is starting to establish himself here,” notes Comet, “taking down one of the favorites in this Cluster-eff, Mike Van Siclen.”

 

“I notice you’re making up for putting Mike down before,” snickers Riley, “nice cover up.”

 

MVS falls flat on his face, but the never ending circle of death continues, as Dace has recovered and is back on his feet again. Manson decides to get a head start on the High Priest of Horrorcore by charging at him, but Night sees him coming and grabs him around the waist, lifting him up into the air…and then pushing him back down to earth with an enormous slam spinebuster! The crowd ROARS at the impact, and at the sight of Dace hitting one of his signature maneuvers.

 

“DACE – F’N – NIGHT!”

 

“DACE – F’N – NIGHT!”

 

“Does Dace ever fuck anyone else?” questions Riley, as Comet blinks in shock, “I mean, god, everywhere you go, it’s ‘Dace F’N Night. I mean, I know I’ve told people to go fuck themselves before, but I didn’t think Dace actually took that seriously.”

 

“You’re desperate for material, aren’t you, Bobbo?” adds Comet, still in surprise over Riley dropping the F-bomb twice.

 

“Not so much ‘desperate’ as ‘uninterested with Dace’s offense.’ Oh, crap, did I say that out loud?”

 

As Craven reaches his feet and begins to attack the fallen MVS with stomps and kicks, Dace brings Manson up to his feet and grabs his neck and waist, launching him over the top rope…but Manson holds on tenaciously, refusing to be eliminated so early. Night, the British pit-bull he is, keeps a hold on Manson, now holding on to his legs as he tries to flip him over the top.

 

*BOOM!*

 

However, the mastermind (!) that is Michael Craven comes up behind Dace with a MASSIVE boot to the back of Night’s head. The force causes both Manson AND Dace to flip over the top rope!

 

“My sweet merciful Athena!” bellows Comet, “Craven has eliminated BOTH Dace and Manson!”

 

 

 

…but they BOTH land on the apron!

 

“Don’t get your underoos in a bunch yet, Comet,” says Riley, “as disappointed as I am, Dace ISN’T out of the match yet.”

 

The crowd breathes a collective sigh of relieve as Dace stays in the match, and, quite frankly, couldn’t care less about Manson. Craven tries to stomp the two off the apron and down to the floor, but they hold onto the bottom rope and are able to reenter the ring. Annoyed, Craven turns his focus back to Van Siclen. As he does, the Official Clusterfuck Timer™ begins counting down, heralding the entrance of the fifth participant!

 

“TEN!”

 

 

“NINE!”

 

 

“EIGHT!”

 

 

Craven brings MVS to his feet and shoves him into a corner, where he begins delivering hard punches to his torso and head.

 

 

“SEVEN!”

 

 

“SIX!”

 

 

“FIVE!”

 

 

Now, Craven moves a few steps back and extends his leg out, using his boot to choke the life out of Van Siclen.

 

 

“FOUR!”

 

 

“THREE!”

 

 

“TWO!”

 

 

“ONE!”

 

 

 

*BUZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ*

 

“NO!

 

NO!

 

NO-TORIOUS!”

 

Spineshank’s “Synthetic” rocks the house and the crowd breaks out into enormous jeers as the first member of the Unnamed makes his way down the ramp towards the ring!

 

 

“From Champaign, Illinois,” begins Funyon, “representing the UUUUUUUN – NAAAAAAAAMED, this is ‘THE NOTORIOUS ONE’ JOOOOOOOOOOHN DUUUUUURAAAAAAAAAAAAAN!!!”

 

Duran takes the time to march up the ring steps, coolly stepping between the ropes and entering the fray. Seeing this, Michael Craven advances to meet the new entrant, but Duran is fresh and ready, and he easily ducks under Craven’s clothesline attempt. As the Nightmare turns around, Duran lifts a big knee right into his midsection, doubling him over. He follows this up with three successive elbows to the back of the head, and then, keeping a grip on Craven’s cranium, Duran drops to a knee and drives his adversary’s face right into it, almost breaking his nose in the process! Manson decides to try his luck next with the Unnamed member, but Duran easily lifts his leg up, catching the oncoming Manson with a big boot to the face. As Manson hits the mat, John sees Dace advancing out of the corner of his eye and catches him around the side, easily lifting him up and sitting out, dropping Night with a side slam!

 

“This is great! This is fantastic! This is SUPER!” Riley chimes with delight, “John Duran is NO NO NOTORIOUS in that ring, and he’s just destroying anything and everything that moves! He’s a man! Such a maaaaan!”

 

“Would you STOP?!” scolds Comet, channeling the spirit of wrestling announcers’ past.

 

“What, Dace comes out and you can orgasm, but I can barely let my approval out before being yelled at?”

 

As soon as Duran gets to his feet, Mike Van Siclen staggers out of the corner, and the Notorious One sees another victim to attack. He kicks him in the gut and places him in a standing headscissors, reaching under Mike’s body for a piledriver. However, MVS was only playing possum, as he drops to a knee and lifts his forearm right between Duran’s legs!

 

*CHING!*

 

“Brilliant move by Mike Van Siclen!” Comet applauds, “catching Duran in the right place at the right time. Any shot to the jinx has GOT to hurt!”

 

“…jinx?” Riley stares at his colleague bewildered, “…and, anyway, what’s up with your double standards? I mean, I’ve been putting up with them for four months already, but the ‘it’s dastardly for this person and okay for this person’ has GOT to stop.”

 

“I get spirited and caught up in the action! I can’t help it, Bobbo! If I want to orgasm, damn it, I’ll orgasm! Although it looks like Duran WON’T be orgasming anytime soon after that uppercut!”

 

The Notorious One gets his notorious unmentionables rattled, and he doubles over in pain to console them. As he does, Mike charges to the ropes and comes back, catching Duran’s head and spinning around, dropping him with a spinning neckbreaker! The crowd erupts as Duran is finally taken down, and by the fan-favorite Spectacle, no less. Not wanting to waste a second, Van Siclen brings Duran back up to his feet and grabs him by the arm, whipping him to the other side of the ring. As he rebounds, Mike leaps into the air and launches his legs out for a dropkick, but Duran swats his legs away, and Mike crashes down to the canvas! The Notorious One advances on Van Siclen, but Craven is up again, and this time he’s able to catch Duran by surprise, clubbing him from behind with a big forearm. Duran stumbles towards the ropes, and seeing this, the Nightmare decides to go for it all, pushing John against the ropes and lifting up his legs, trying to bundle him over the top-

 

*BOOM!*

 

-but this time Dace returns the favor, hitting a BIG Yakuza Kick to the back of Craven’s head!

 

“Poetic justice is served!” testifies Comet, “as karma hits Craven square in the back of the head, in the form of Dace Night’s boot!”

 

“Karma is a Brummie’s boot to your head?” asks Riley, “…I’d better go into construction.”

 

The Gulf Coast Nightmare teeters as Duran retreats to safety in the ring. Craven doesn’t go over the top, however, as his weight keeps him in the ring, albeit in a precarious position. Dace decides to take the initiative and grab a leg of Craven, while Duran takes the other, and the two men try to hoist him right out of the Clusterfuck! Craven stays his ground, however, and seeing this, Manson joins in, trying to push the largest man in the match over the ropes. Finally, MVS returns to the fray and helps out, and the four men finally get Craven over the top rope…and he falls to safety on the apron!

 

“Well, I must admit,” begins Comet, “that’s a little disappointing. Here I am, hoping that bastardly Craven is GONE from the Cluster-eff once and for all.”

 

“See, what you have to do is keep your emotions in, and NOT let everyone know who or what you’re rooting for,” replies Riley, “that way the gods won’t spite you and have the opposite happen. Trust me, I’m good at this.”

 

The four men begin stomping down on Craven, but the Nightmare holds a death grip on the bottom rope. He continues to be assaulted, until Duran turns his attention away from Craven and sends a big forearm smash to the head of Dace! Night staggers backward and John advances, grabbing Dace by the arm and whipping him towards a turnbuckle. Duran charges towards Dace, smashing him with a body – turnbuckle sandwich, and Dace becomes the market fresh cold cuts!

 

“YES! KICK HIS ASS DURAN! SQUASH HIS ASS INTO PIE AND…SQUASH! BEAT ME A SHEPHERD’S PIE!” roots Riley.

 

“I’ll try to take note of that,” snickers Comet.

 

 

Meanwhile, Manson and Van Siclen turn their attention to each other, and they begin to lay punches into each other again. Manson lifts a knee into MVS’ solar plexus, however, and charges to the ropes behind Mike. As he advances he grabs Mike in a ¾ facelock, running forward to execute the Consequences…but Mike pushes him away! Manson hits the ropes, and Van Siclen dashes forward, taking advantage of the situation by lifting Manson’s legs up…pushing them over… over… over…Manson goes over the top rope…and lands on the floor below, with both feet touching the floor! The Ohioans EXPLODE!

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Manson

ENTERED: 3rd

LEFT: 1st

ELIMINATED: Nobody

ELIMINATED BY: Mike Van Siclen

LEFT IN RING: Michael Craven, Mike Van Siclen, Dace Night, John Duran

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

“And the first one bites the dust!” sings Riley, “…at least I think that’s how it goes. Anyway, it isn’t not unsurprising that the first person eliminated is…a Junior Leaguer.” Riley finishes the comment with disdain in his voice.

 

“First,” starts Comet, “a triple negative. Excellent job. Secondly, Mike Van Siclen was in a right place, right time scenario, just like he was with Duran. Except this involved no testicles…this involved taking away Manson’s dream of an SWF World Title shot!”

 

As Manson hits the floor, the Official Clusterfuck Timer™ begins to count down. Duran plasters Dace with knees to the belly and punches to the face, while MVS and Craven take a moment to recover.

 

 

…”SEVEN!”

 

 

“SIX!”

 

 

“FIVE!”

 

 

“FOUR!”

 

 

“THREE!”

 

 

“TWO!”

 

 

“ONE!”

 

 

*BUZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ*

 

Bad Ronald’s “Let’s Begin”…begins, and the crowd erupts as another former Junior Leaguer charges out from the back!

 

“From Hollywood, California,” bellows Funyon, “this is ‘HOLLYWOOD’ SPIIIIIIIIIIIKE JEEEEEEEEEENKIIIIIIIIIIIINSSSSSSSSSSSS!!!”

 

Jenkins races down and slides under the bottom rope, and makes a b-line for Michael Craven, who is wearily recovering in the corner. Moving quickly, Spike rolls forward and does a handspring, rolls through with it, and shoots his legs up in a big kick to Craven’s face, executing the Tidal Wave! The blow knocks the Nightmare loopy, and he staggers out of the corner. Working quickly, Jenkins leaps into the air and shoots his leg out again, this time connecting with the back of Craven’s head, hitting a BIG enzuiguri! The Nightmare drops flat on his face on the mat, and the crowd explodes again!

 

“My lord and mercy,” Riley takes a sip from a flask, “it’s another hyper-drive leaguer. These guys need Ritalin or something.”

 

“Bobbo, Spike Jenkins is making a TREMENDOUS impact on this match just seconds after entering! He’s taking it to Craven like few have before! Unbelievable!”

 

“Your grasp of hyperbole is admirable, Comet.”

 

Hollywood turns his attention over to Mike Van Siclen, who has been getting WAY too much recovery time in the corner. The two lock horns in a grapple, which Spike gets the best of, as he pushes Mike into the corner before executing some hard knife edge chops. Meanwhile, John Duran traps Dace in a front facelock submission…but Night gives Duran some of his own medicine with a knee lift to the face, before Night arches backward, bringing Duran up and over with a big northern lights suplex! Spike Jenkins grabs a front facelock on Mike, and then grabs him by the tights, snapping him up and down with a quick suplex. Hollywood pops up to his feet to play to the crowd. And then…he locks eyes with Dace.

 

“And you could almost SENSE this would happen!” proclaims Comet, “These two men were involved in, without a doubt, the BLOODIEST of blood feuds in SJL history! They participated and the one and only Damnation in a Box match, which makes me queasy to watch even today!”

 

“They made tapes of Junior League shows?” Riley questions, “…huh, maybe I should check some of those out.”

 

After a moment of hesitation, Jenkins charges forward, and the roof almost goes KABOOMANIA as the Dace and Spike exchange elbows and punches, respectively. However, Night uses a SUPERCHARGED elbow smash, knocking Jenkins loopy. As Jenkins moves back a step, Dace grabs him by the arm and whips him towards the ropes. As Spike comes back, Night does a rotation, swinging his arm around for a rolling elbow, but Jenkins sidesteps it! He continues running to the opposite ropes, and as Dace turns around, Spike leaps into the air, driving his forearm right into Night’s face, taking him down!

 

“LET’S – GO – SPIKE!”

 

“LET’S – GO – DACE!”

 

The two chants alternate from the Gund Arena fans, as Spike mounts Night and delivers even more punches! With Night suitably weakened, Jenkins races to the nearest turnbuckle and vaults to the top rope, facing away from the ring. Hollywood briefly salutes the fans before launching backward, flipping through the air and coming down with a moonsault…but Dace rolls out of the way! Meanwhile, John Duran is up and he advances towards Van Siclen. He grabs him by the head and moves towards the adjacent turnbuckle, where he begins mercilessly smashing the Spectacle’s head into the corner! Craven remains sitting in the corner, catching all of the wind he can before reentering the match.

 

“And amidst all the chaos, frustration, and heartbreak,” says Riley, “Craven remains the SMARTEST man in the match. Nobody is noticing him, so why bother expelling energy to risk elimination with every blow you throw out there? He’s a REAL man’s wrestler.”

 

“Well, Craven truly is living up to his name,” remarks Comet, “he’s being a cowardly, despicable fool!”

 

“I know you are, but what are him-err, what is he, Comet?!”

 

“Dear god, Bobbo, you are the undisputed KING of comebacks.”

 

“I was practicing that one before. I can’t believe I flubbed it again!”

 

Night gets back up to his feet and brings Spike with him, putting Hollywood to his side before locking his arms in a double underhook! The crowd roars as Dace calls for the Defenestration, as even though Spike isn’t really getting thrown through a window, he’s going to face some serious head trauma. Night lifts Spike up…but Jenkins is able to duck down and escape the underhook! He comes up behind the Horrorcore one, spins him around, and wraps his arm around Dace’s neck, preparing for the Highlighter! He lifts Dace up…but gets an elbow to the back of his head! As Spike staggers forward, Night turns him around, kicks him in the midsection, and wraps in the double underhook again! This time, Night successfully lifts Spike up at a forty five degree angle and drops him on the top of his head with the DEFENESTRATION! The crowd ROARS as Spike gets…spiked. As this move hits, John Duran lifts Van Siclen up, dropping him on his side, across his knee with a big rib-breaker. The Official Clusterfuck Timer™ starts to wind down, and the fans buzz in anticipation to see entrant number seven.

 

“DACE THROWS SPIKE OUT THE WINDOW!” rejoices Comet, “I never get tired of seeing Defenestration…it’s just beautiful! Dace spiked Spike and made him wish he NEVER got involved with the high priest of Horrorcore!”

 

“Hey Comet, gullible is written on the ceiling!”

 

“…what on earth are you talking about, Bobbo?”

 

“Well, duh, Dace calls his move the defenestration and you believe he’s REALLY defenestrating him! God…you’re such a gullible fool!”

 

…”NINE!”

 

 

“EIGHT!”

 

 

“SEVEN!”

 

 

“SIX!”

 

 

“FIVE!”

 

 

“FOUR!”

 

 

“THREE!”

 

 

“TWO!”

 

 

“ONE!”

 

 

*BUZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ*

 

“Are you scared?”

 

…

 

“He’s here.”

 

Dark Funeral’s “Dead Skin Mask” blasts into the Gund Arena and the fans let out a cheer for another SJL bumpee, the Black Angel!

 

 

“From Shrewsbury, England,” cries Funyon, “this is THE BLAAAAAAACK ANGEL, AAAAAAAAAAECAAAAAASSSSSSSSSSS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

 

Aecas charges and climbs onto the apron, stepping over the top rope to enter the ring. Just as Jenkins did, Aecas smells blood and heads directly for Craven. The Nightmare tries to beg it off, but Aecas will have none of it. He forcefully grabs Michael by the head and lifts him out of the corner, wrapping his arms around his waist and easily lifting the 280-pounder up, turning on his heel and dropping him with a big belly-to-belly suplex!

 

“This man is a behemoth, a giant, a woolly mammoth!” shouts Comet, providing as much verbal fellatio as necessary, “and he’s going to kick ass and take names until he’s the last one standing in the Clusterfuck! You have my WORD!”

 

“Holy crap, it must be Trinity members,” shoots Riley, “they get you wet with excitement or SOMETHING. It’s kinda creepy.”

 

With that one move, everyone turns their attention to the big man in the ring. Dace walks over to Aecas and high fives him, before turning his attention back to Spike Jenkins. Duran decides to try his luck at the big man, charging forward and wrapping his arms around Aecas’ waist, driving him into the turnbuckle! The Notorious One tries to unleash with a big knee lift, but the Black Angel simply shrugs it off and clasps his enormous hand around Duran’s face, executing a claw! Aecas pie-faces John away from him, before running forward and swinging his arm, taking Duran down with a MASSIVE clothesline! Van Siclen advances towards Aecas, but the Black Angel clasps his hand around Mike’s throat and easily hoists him up with one arm, before slamming him back down to the canvas!

 

Meanwhile, Dace sets Spike into a standing headscissors, but sort-of taking a page out of Van Siclen’s textbook, Jenkins is able to…

 

*CHING!*

 

…lift his head up, hitting Dace’s precious metals in the process! Night stumbles back against the ropes, but Hollywood kicks him in the gut and warily places HIM in a standing headscissors. From there, Jenkins traps Dace in a double underhook and begins to lift Night up for the Reckoning. At the last minute, however, Night is able to lift his shoulders up, flipping Spike up… up… up… over the top rope…AND DOWN TO THE FLOOR!

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Hollywood” Spike Jenkins

ENTERED: 6th

LEFT: 2nd

ELIMINATED: Nobody

ELIMINATED BY: Dace Night

LEFT IN RING: Michael Craven, Mike Van Siclen, Dace Night, John Duran, Aecas

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

“Spike Jenkins is GONE,” cries Comet, “and things are just starting to pick up in this Cluster-eff!”

 

“If you’ve noticed, Comet, the two men that were eliminated were JUNIOR LEAGUERS. I think this is proving my point about them not belonging here and whatnot.”

 

“Bobbo, your elitist attitude is certainly doing its job in making me MADLY IN FEROCIOUSNESS WITH YOU!”

 

As Spike hits the floor, he quickly rises to his knees and stares back up at Dace. The High Priest of Horrorcore simply shrugs…as Michael Craven attacks him from behind! Craven tries to take advantage of the situation by tossing the distracted Dace, but Night will have none of it, holding onto the top rope for dear life. He shoots an arm back, however, and catches the Nightmare square in the nose with a backhand. Michael staggers back…and comes back-to-front with none other than the Black Angel! The crowd roars as Craven mouths an “oh, shit” and slowly turns around-

 

*BOOM!*

 

-to be smacked with an enormous uppercut!

 

“Yes!” rejoices Comet, “give that craven Craven what he had coming to him! I’m sick of seeing the supposed Gulf Coast Nightmare take the easy way out, and now he’s going to really get his!”

 

“Personally, Comet, I’m hoping Aecas trips over something and fractures a bone. Hey, maybe he could even break it.”

 

Craven takes the blow like a man and tries to get away from Aecas, but it’s not THAT easy, as the biggest man in the match grabs a hold of Michael and pulls him back. Aecas places him in a standing headscissors and raises his arms up to the delight of the crowd, before reaching down and easily hoisting the 280 pounder up onto his shoulders, letting him drop down. In one swift motion, Aecas leaves his feet and spins one-hundred and eighty degrees, drilling Craven right on the dome of his head with the Executioner! The crowd lets out a loud cheer as Craven is dropped on his head, and Aecas is quickly congratulated by fellow stable mate Dace Night.

 

“THE EXECUTIONER!” screams Comet, “Holy bovine, I would NOT want to be on the receiving end of that! Craven got…well, executed!”

 

“Nice one, Comet,” Riley snorts, “and speaking of craven…what’s up with Dace? He just doesn’t want to get on Aecas’ bad side, so he’s acting all buddy-buddy with him. How pathetic!”

 

Night turns his focus to Duran, while Aecas looms over to where Mike Van Siclen is trying to grab a breather in the corner. While the Trinity runs amuck over the ring, the Official Clusterfuck Timer™ begins ticking yet again.

 

 

“TEN!”

 

 

“NINE!”

 

 

“EIGHT!”

 

 

“SEVEN!”

 

 

“SIX!”

 

 

“FIVE!”

 

 

“FOUR!”

 

 

“THREE!”

 

 

“TWO!”

 

 

“ONE!”

 

 

*BUZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ*

 

Elvis Presley’s “Little Less Conversation” belts out of the Gund Arena speakers and the crowd goes MADLY IN NUTS~ as the man, the myth, and the legend begins to make his way out of the backstage area and into the arena!

 

“LADIES AND GENTLEMEN,” begins Funyon, with a Cheshire cat grin, “it is my HONOR and PRIVILEGE to introduce to you the man that has slapped a tornado, dried up a sea, made love to the most beautiful women in the world, and beaten up some of the ugliest men. From Memphis, Tennessee, by way of Planet Lovetron, the Smarks Wrestling Federation presents to you…THE MEMMMMMMMMPHIIIIIIISSSSSSSSSSS EEEEEEEEEEEEEELLLLLL!!!!!!”

 

Throughout Funyon’s entire long winded introduction, the Eel s – l – o – w – l –y makes his way to the ring, being sure to show off his clean-cut sideburns and deliciously bodacious ring attire. Back in the ring, Dace Night advances towards John Duran, but the Notorious One lifts his notorious knee into Dace’s notorious crotch, notoriously wounding him and leading Duran to notoriously kill this notoriously awful sentence running gag. With Dace doubled over, John traps Dace in a front facelock and grabs him by the tights, hoisting him up into the air before throwing him forward, dropping Night face-first onto the mat with a front suplex. Meanwhile, Aecas hovers over Van Siclen…but the Spectacle somehow leaps up and grabs Aecas by the head, sitting out and driving his chin into his own head! The jawbreaker causes the Black Angel to stumble, and Mike trips him up onto his back, before grabbing both of Aecas’ legs and wrenching them apart with a double wishbone!

 

The Eel FINALLY saunters down to ringside, and he begins talking with Nick Soapdish about recent Elvis sightings. He spots a young man at ringside, however, and decides to make him famous. He walks over and takes off the “FUNK” medallion, saying he’ll put it on the boy! Excitedly, the pimply-faced nerd puts his head down to take the precious medal-

 

*CRACK*

 

-and Eel smacks him across the face with it!

 

“OH MY GOD!” cries Comet, “that’s abhorrent! I’m appalled! I just can’t believe what I see in front of my very eyes! Riley, spill my Pepsi Max, I must be dreaming!”

 

“That was GOLD!” cries Riley, before realizing his pun, “well, gold that hit him in the face. Obviously I don’t condone the…beating of minors.”

 

The crowd begins jeering for the poor kid’s sake, but Eel finally drops the medallion and struts up the ring steps, F

FINALLY stepping between the ropes and officially entering the Clusterfuck! While this was going on, however, Aecas sits up IMMEDIATELY after the Van Siclen combo, and quickly rises to his feet. However, MVS sees this coming and runs at Aecas, jumping up and spinning around, grabbing the Black Angel in a Crossface before sitting out and drilling him with the Red Light!

 

“STOP!”

 

MVS rises to his feet and looks at the crowd,

 

“CONTIN-“

 

*CHING!*

 

…Mike can’t finish, however, as Eel steps into the ring and immediately goes low, kicking him right in the jinx! Van Siclen doubles over in pain, as the Memphis Eel grabs him by the hair and WRENCHES it back, and then proceeding to stick his fingers out and goink Mike’s eyeballs! As MVS agonizes over the temporary blindness, the Eel hits a punch! And then another punch! And then a third punch! Eel then grabs Mike by the head and winds up his arm, before laying in an ENORMOUS punch that knocks MVS off of his feet!

 

“The Memphis Eel is a ROCK STAR!” chuckles Comet, “known worldwide, and he can really get a crowd riled up by simply doing a handful of moves!”

 

“Comet, do you even pay ATTENTION to the guy? *Rock* star? Jesus, it’s obvious that he’s one of those rap superstars with the ‘ice’ and the ‘tea’ and the Abercrombie and Fitch catalogs. Look closer next time.”

 

To see what all the hub-bub is about, John Duran walks over…

 

*SMACK*

 

…but he eats a Mega Huge Pimp Slap of DOOM™ from the Memphis superstar! The blow causes Duran to spin around 180 degrees, and Eel proceeds to rake his fingernails down the length of John’s back, causing severe pain! Duran drops to his knees, and seeing no one around, the Eel lets his wrist go limp, and he begins doing a Mega Pimp Strut™! He reaches the ropes, and as he looks out to the crowd-

 

*BOOM*

 

-Dace surprises Eel with an ENORMOUS Yakuza Kick that sends Eel over the top rope and DOWN DOWN DOWN to the floor! Nothin’ but a hound dog, indeed.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Memphis Eel

ENTERED: 8th

LEFT: 3rd

ELIMINATED: Nobody

ELIMINATED BY: Dace Night

LEFT IN RING: Michael Craven, Mike Van Siclen, Dace Night, John Duran, Aecas

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

“Well, that was disappointing,” says Riley, a tinge of sadness in his voice, “I mean, here comes this larger than life, living legend to grace the Gund Arena’s ungrateful fans and the SWF…and he gets DISRESPECTED by Dace fucking Night! I should’ve expected less, I guess.”

 

“’tis truly a sad day, Bobbo,” consoles Comet, “but never fear, for another contestant is on schedule to step up and show everyone what he’s all about!”

 

As soon as Eel hits the floor he pops up, wondering if he traveled off into Psychedelic Bizarro World. He emptily struts to pick up his accessories before heading backstage, as the Official Clusterfuck Timer™ counts down the time before the ninth participant enters.

 

 

…”SIX!”

 

 

“FIVE!”

 

 

“FOUR!”

 

 

“THREE!”

 

 

“TWO!”

 

 

“ONE!”

 

 

*BUZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ*

 

Disturbed’s “Meaning of Life” rocks the Gund Arena into high gear, but the crowd is less than enthusiastic as another Junior Leaguer enters the fray!

 

“From Calgary… Alberta, Canada,” bellows Funyon, “this is JAAAAAAACOB HELLLLLLLLLLLLMSSSSSLEEEEEEEYYYYYYY!!!!!!!!”

 

Helmsley races down from backstage and slides under the bottom rope, making his SWF debut. Aecas stands in the middle of the ring ready to meet Helmsley, but someone grabs the Black Angel by the arm and spins him around…it’s a battered and beaten Michael Craven! Craven kicks Aecas in the abdomen before hoisting him up onto his shoulders in a fireman’s carry! The crowd boos vociferously as the Nightmare spins Aecas’ body around, dropping him down with a HUGE neckbreaker to complete the GULF COAST CRUNCH!

 

“Aecas has been destroyed!” Comet helpfully points out, “that Gulf Coast Crunch is a DEADLY maneuver, second in power only to Michael Craven’s supercharged forearm!”

 

“And, holy crap, it’s Jacob Helmsley,” Riley helpfully points out, “he’s been down there for CENTURIES, and he’s finally in the SWF. Who ‘da thunk it?”

Edited February 3, 2004 by Suicide King

[Guest Suicide King]

As Craven hits this, Helmsley blindsides a distracted Dace Night, standing side-to-side with him and sweeping his leg out, pulling Dace down with a Russian leg sweep. Meanwhile, Craven brings Aecas up to his feet and pushes him against the ropes, before attempting to bundle him out…to no avail! Frustrated, Craven turns Aecas around so his back is to the ropes, and with one wild swing, the Nightmare connects right under the Black Angel’s jaw and sends him over the top rope…down to the floor below!

 

“Damn it, Aecas is GONE!” says Comet, disappointedly, “The half of the Trinity that was in the ring looked to be UNSTOPPABLE, and merciful Venus, I thought they were going to go all the way. I would’ve been tickled to see a Dace vs. Aecas vs. Janus match at the end of this Cluster-eff!”

 

“You really like them, don’t you?” teases Riley, “well, I guess it just SUCKS that Craven proved to be the smarter and superior wrestler, eh? Comet and the Trinity sittin’ in a tree…”

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Aecas

ENTERED: 7th

LEFT: 4th

ELIMINATED: Nobody

ELIMINATED BY: Michael Craven

LEFT IN RING: Michael Craven, Mike Van Siclen, Dace Night, John Duran, Jacob Helmsley

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Van Siclen wearily gets up from the mat, still shaken after the assault by the Memphis Eel. He turns around, only to come face to face with Jacob Helmsley. Jake greets Mike by ducking under his arm and wrapping his own around MVS’ neck, standing in that position for a few seconds before sweeping Mike’s leg back, hitting a HARD STO that drills Siclen into the canvas! Helmsley rises to his feet to meet the jeers of the Ohioans, but he ignores them and turns around

 

*SMASH*

 

…only to eat a jumping knee to the face from John Duran! Jacob falls from grace as Duran moves on, turning towards Michael Craven. The Nightmare doesn’t expect a thing as the Notorious One charges at him and wraps his arms around his waist, driving him HARD into the turnbuckle. Duran lets go and Craven stumbles out of the corner, but John doesn’t quit, grabbing Michael in a front facelock before falling backwards, spiking him with a big DDT! Dace rises to his feet now, but can only take a boot to the gut from Duran, before the Notorious One places him in a gutwrench position and hoists him up into the air…before dropping him almost seven feet down to the mat with an enormous gutwrench powerbomb!

 

“Duran is on FIRE here!” cries Comet, “that Memphis Eel backrake must have miraculous comeback abilities, because by god, John Duran is setting the ring alight with power and brute strength! Let the bodies hit the floor!”

 

“I knew it was only a matter of time,” begins Riley, “Duran is the sole representative of the Unnamed, until the great Charlie Matthews enters at…what number is that? Oh yeah, 20. Oh, I love it. The Unnamed is SO going to make everyone else look like a collective JOKE.”

 

Duran begins to stalk Mike Van Siclen, but he is intercepted as Jake comes up from behind John and traps him in the Buzzkill chickenwing headlock! The Notorious One struggles to fight the move, but Helmsley is persistent, refusing to let it go. Duran, looking like an ox in heat, slowly moves towards the ropes, not for a rope break, but to get some much-needed leverage. John grabs onto the rope as Helmsley wrenches in the hold even tighter…but then Duran pushes down on the top rope and forces his head forward, which flips Helmsley up and OVER the top rope!

 

 

…but he lands on the apron!

 

“My GOODNESS,” professes Comet, “Citizen Helmsley narrowly, and I mean *narrowly* avoided elimination there!”

 

“These guys have to grow a little more than half a brain,” says Riley, sarcastically, “I mean, you have a guy right near the ropes, don’t they realize that that’s NOT a good place to be? I mean, come on, common sense, people.”

 

Helmsley scurries back under the bottom rope and into the ring, to avoid any possible elimination. Duran continues to lean against the ropes, though, and he is surprised as Mike Van Siclen shocks him by spinning around and nailing him with a big wheel kick to the back! While the blow doesn’t cause John to magically flip over the top rope and be eliminated, it does stagger him, and he drops down to his knees, leaning against the second rope. Helmsley quickly rises to his feet, but Siclen has some for him too, and he traps Jake in a front facelock. Mike calls “CODE RED!” to the crowd before he puts his arm out and twists around, dropping his elbow onto Jake’s neck and drilling him down to the mat! Even Mike doesn’t get to his feet right away, and with all five men down on the canvas, the Official Clusterfuck Timer™ begins counting down.

 

“Being one of the two men that has been in this match the longest,” starts Comet, “Mike Van Siclen sure is kicking names and taking BUTT!”

 

“I…concur, Comet. But with this next entrant…I don’t know, I have a feeling something BIG is about to go down.”

 

“TEN!”

 

 

“NINE!”

 

 

“EIGHT!”

 

 

“SEVEN!”

 

 

“SIX!”

 

 

“FIVE!”

 

 

“FOUR!”

 

 

“THREE!”

 

 

“TWO!”

 

 

“ONE!”

 

 

*BUZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ*

 

Metallica’s “Master of Puppets” belts out of the speakers and the Gund Arena goes…MADLY IN APATHY~ as none other than the SWF’s perennial jobber, Xero~ charges down to ringside!

 

 

“Umm…ladies and gentlemen,” begins Funyon, unsure, “from…parts unknown, this is the one and only XEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEROOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!”

 

“MY GOD!!” prays Comet, “NOBODY expected this man, this master, this unbelievably impossible to defeat fighter to show up in tonight’s Cluster-eff! Good god, Riley, what does this mean?”

 

“It means a LOT of people are about to be eliminated in a few seconds, Comet. I’ve seen Xero tear it up for years now, and the only thing people in the ring can hope for now is that they don’t get injured when they’re thrown over the top rope.”

 

Xero races down to ringside…and immediately crawls under the ring! The Cleveland crowd begins a loud round of laughter, but with all five men down, no one notices Xero’s cowardice / ingenuity! Regardless, Michael Craven and Dace Night finally reach their feet, and the two meet in the middle of the ring and recreate the Ali / Frazier battle…except with elbows and forearms. Craven surprises Night with a kick to the gut, however, and he backs into the ropes. As he comes back, Craven draws his arm back like a shortstop scooping up a grounder and throwing it to first before he draws his hand close to his head and drives his forearm into the head of Dace with amazing force that slams them hard into the mat!

 

…and Dace gets right back up!

 

“Holy sweet immaculate mother of Jesus in heaven!” cries Comet, “Dace just got up from the supercharged forearm of death!”

 

“Wait…you mean, Mary?” asks Riley.

 

Craven’s face is a Picasso of shock as he acts, well, craven in an attempt to escape the hardcore madman. Night advances forward…but he suddenly gets trapped from behind in a waistlock, as MVS arches backwards and sends Dace over with a BIG release German suplex! As Dace gets dropped on his neck, Jacob Helmsley presses forward, looking to take advantage of the craven Craven. Jake charges at Michael and leaps up, legs on Craven’s shoulders as he arches back for a hurracanrana, but the Nightmare stands his ground and holds onto Helmsley’s body! Craven brings Jake back up into a sitting position on his shoulders, walks over to the ropes and DROPS him, POWERBOMBING Helmsley all the way DOWN to the floor below!

 

“SWEET MERCIFUL CRAP!” bellows Comet, “Jacob Helmsley was just MURDERED by Michael Craven! That was a DEADLY maneuver and my GOD another Junior Leaguer’s chances of making it to the main event are RUINED!”

 

“Well, on the bright side…” thinks Riley, “…umm, I’m sure there’s a bright side *somewhere* for good old Helmsley, I mean…it can’t be all hellfire and Sierra Mist, can it?”

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jacob Helmsley

ENTERED: 9th

LEFT: 5th

ELIMINATED: Nobody

ELIMINATED BY: Michael Craven

LEFT IN RING: Michael Craven, Mike Van Siclen, Dace Night, John Duran, Xero (allegedly)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Duran finally awakens from his slumber, as he immediately tries to push Craven over the top rope as well! John gets Craven’s legs up…but Michael shoots them back, kicking Duran square in the chest. The force pushes the Notorious One back, and Michael rushes in with his arm in the position of a shortstop scooping up a ball and throwing it to first base, but Duran overcomes the power of the supercharged forearm setup, as he grabs the arm of the Nightmare! John proceeds to lift Craven up onto his shoulders in an inverted fireman’s carry, and the crowd begins buzzing in anticipation! In one swift motion, Duran spins Craven’s body around, before falling down and nailing Craven with a BIG neckbreaker, completing the vicious BLUNT FORCE TRAUMA!

 

“BLUNT FORCE TRAUMA!” rings Comet, “and not the blunt that comes from smoking marijuana, either! Michael Craven just got his; he could’ve ended Helmsley’s career with a powerbomb to the floor, and now he gets one of the deadliest finishers in the SWF today!”

 

“You know, backstage at Ground Zero last year I was mocking Duran’s name choice for the move,” begins Riley, in full storyteller mode, “and then he grabs me and puts me on his shoulders, like he was going to do it right there on the buffet table! Luckily, the urine traveled out of my pants and onto his shoulders, so I think that sufficiently scared him off of me. I think my life flashed before my very eyes right then and there.”

 

“…and what did that flash of life entail?” questions Comet.

 

“It looked like something out of a Memphis Eel music video,” replies Riley.

 

As Craven takes the brunt of yet another finishing maneuver, Mike Van Siclen bends down and grabs Dace by the legs, lifting him up much like a back body drop, but Siclen holds onto the legs, and as Night dangles upside down, MVS sits out, dropping Dace on his head with the Van Slaminator!

 

“M – V – S!”

 

“M – V – S!”

 

The crowd begins to get behind the Spectacle again, chanting, clapping, and stomping to fuel his adrenaline. MVS and Duran come face to face, however, and the chanting turns to buzzing as the two men charge forward and INITIATE BATTLE MODE! Duran easily lifts his knee into Mike’s midsection, catching him off guard. With Van Siclen doubled over, the Notorious One traps his arms in a double underhook, looking to hit a double arm DDT, but Mike fights out of it! MVS is able to spin his body out of the underhook and end up behind Duran, where he wraps his arms around Duran’s head in a Crossface. As the Official Clusterfuck Timer™ starts counting down, Van Siclen drops to a knee and pulls Duran’s head back, driving the back of his head right into his knee with the Crossface Black!

 

“It’s almost time for participant number ELEVEN!” proclaims Comet, “we’re already halfway through with this Cluster-eff entrance-wise, but business is about to pick up BIG time with whomever comes out next!”

 

“If it’s anything like Xero,” begins Riley, “then holy crap, everyone’s dead.”

 

…”FIVE!”

 

 

“FOUR!”

 

 

“THREE!”

 

 

“TWO!”

 

 

“ONE!”

 

 

*BUZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ*

 

Cypress Hill’s “How I Could Just Kill a Man” BLASTS out of the speakers and the fans rise to their feet, jeering for the man that has placed his career on the line in this very match!

 

“From Sydney, Australia,” calls Funyon, “this is SSSSSSSSTRRRRYYYYYYYYYYKEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!”

 

The Aussie races down the ramp and charges head on into the ring, ready to face whatever challenges stand between him and his own destiny! Mike Van Siclen is the first obstacle, and Stryke catches him with a punch! A forearm! A European uppercut! Stryke scoops MVS onto his shoulder before sitting out, slamming the Spectacle onto the canvas! Stryke pops up and Dace Night comes charging out of the gate, but the Aussie intercepts him by wrapping his arm around his neck, maneuvering behind the Horrorcore freak, and dropping down, nailing Dace with a sleeper drop! Stryke rises and sees Duran sitting down resting against a corner, so he runs forward and leaps, shooting his legs out and catching the Notorious One right in the face with a mega dropkick that he calls the Facewash!

 

“And Stryke is going absolutely all out!” notes Comet, “he knows that this is the most important match of his career, and he’s ready to do ANYTHING to keep his job alive!”

 

“Well, of course it’s the most important match of his career,” retorts Riley, “I mean, what else has the guy done? He won the ICTV Title on a fluke; Chris Wilson carried his tag team title reign, and his feud with Longdogger Pete just DROPPED because it was so damn boring!”

 

“That sounded surprisingly…full of bile, Bobbo.”

 

Stryke gets back up to his feet and gloats to the crowd, which is none too happy with Stryke’s actions. Nonetheless, Stryke turns around to head to a turnbuckle, when-

 

*CRASH!*

 

-Michael Craven leaps off that very turnbuckle, soaring through the air and taking Stryke down with an enormous flying shoulder block! The Nightmare gets to his feet, still shaking the cobwebs out after the Blunt Force Trauma. However, he still brings Stryke to his feet and walks him over to the ropes, attempting to get rid of one of the match’s favorites early on! Craven pushes and pushes and shoves and shoves, but Stryke just will not give way! Finally giving up, the Nightmare laces his arms behind Stryke’s in a full nelson, which he holds him in as he turns around and faces towards the ring. With that he hoists Stryke into the air and then sits out, slamming Stryke face first onto the mat with the Nightfall Slam! After executing the vicious maneuver, Craven rises up to his knees…

 

*BAM!*

 

…only to be attacked by an enormous John Duran running knee smash! As the Nightmare falls, Duran drags Stryke into the corner and gives him his OWN version of the Facewash, as he simply drives his knee into Stryke’s face and holds it there! The Aussie’s muffled cries can be heard as Duran keeps the agonizing hold on, until Duran is jumped from behind…Mike Van Siclen leaps onto Duran’s back, wrapping an arm around his neck and executing a choke hold! Duran rises up to his feet with MVS still on his back, and he reaches back, taking a hold of Mike’s head, flipping him onto the mat. However, Van Siclen performs a full flip and lands on his feet, and quickly jumps up and shoots his legs back, hitting a mule dropkick on Duran. The Notorious One stumbles back a few steps…into the waiting arms of Dace Night, who ducks under his arm and lifts John up diagonally, falling backwards and spiking him on his head with a backdrop driver!

 

“The Unnamed’s John Duran is getting his ASS handed to him by the Trinity’s Dace Night!” cries Comet, “truly, this is a glorious day. Dace is most likely on a mission from Grand Slam, getting retribution for the notorious trashing of his office. Bastardly fiend.”

 

“A while ago you were applauding the guy because he attacked Craven,” begins Riley, “and now you’re calling him a bastardly fiend. Please, make up your mind, because my head’s starting to hurt.”

 

Mike and Dace measure each other up for a second, before rushing forward. However, Dace uses a well timed elbow smash to stun Van Siclen, and proceeds to catch him in a front facelock, before hoisting him into the air vertically, and holding him… five seconds… seven…and finally, Dace drops down with a sheer drop brainbuster, and Mike Van Siclen lands DIRECTLY ON THE TOP OF HIS HEAD! Stryke rises up from out of the corner and charges at Dace as the Official Clusterfuck Timer™ begins to tick, but Dace sweeps his legs out from under him with a double leg takedown and mounts Stryke, pasting him with five successive elbows to the face!

 

“And it seems to me,” notices Comet, “that none of the men in this ring care about Stryke putting his career on the line! Dace is absolutely laying it in to the Aussie with NO remorse!”

 

“And why should he show remorse?” asks Riley, “just put the guy out of his misery already. The guy will always be remembered as a joke, might as well let him go out as one, too.”

 

“EIGHT!”

 

 

“SEVEN!”

 

 

“SIX!”

 

 

“FIVE!”

 

 

“FOUR!”

 

 

“THREE!”

 

 

“TWO!”

 

 

“ONE!”

 

 

*BUZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ*

 

“The Gauntlet” kicks in and the Gund Arena wakes up in a QUIVERING MASS OF CHEERING FLESH as yet another Junior Leaguer begins charging down the ramp, ready to enter the fray!

 

“From Easton, Pennsylvania,” resounds Funyon, “this is the INSAAAAAAAAAAAAANE LUUUUUUUCHADORRRRRR, AAAAAAAAANDREW RIIIIIIIIIIIIIICKMAAAAANN!!!!!!!”

 

The Insane Luchador slides into the ring and immediately locks on a target, as he leaps through the air and swings with all of his might, taking down the High Priest of Horrorcore with a nasty clothesline! Stryke slowly gets to his feet, but Rickman stands side to side with him and links his arm, flipping him over. IL falls forward, slamming Stryke down hard with a modified hiptoss. Luchador pops up and raises his arms to greet the cheering crowd.

 

“And the Insane Luchador is officially in the SWF!” proclaims Comet, “I’ve been watching this guy since he STARTED in the SJL many moons ago, and I tell you, folks, this guy is someone to watch.”

 

“I just can’t wait to WATCH him get thrown over the top rope. You know that ALWAYS happens to luchadors in a battle royal, right?” snips Riley.

 

“LUCH – AH – DOR!”

 

“LUCH – AH – DOR!”

 

*BOOM!*

 

However, the chants quickly turn to jeers as Michael Craven leaps up and connects with a high knee to IL’s upper back. The blow causes Rickman to stumble forward, and the Nightmare grabs him by the head, easily tossing him over the top rope.

 

 

…but IL holds on!

 

“Thank mercy!” cries Comet, “IL was not on the brink of INSANITY there, but on the brink of ELIMINATION! See, Riley, sometimes being a Luchador in a battle royal DOES pay off!”

 

“Psssh,” blows Riley, “he still won’t last long. Guys like him were made to flip and flop around for 5 minutes in a dark match to get the crowd hyped up.”

 

His feet dangling mere inches from the floor, Andrew is able to skin the cat and flip backwards up…and back into the ring! The crowd roars at Rickman’s agility, and as he reenters the ring, he quickly leaps onto the second rope, spring-boarding backwards and flipping through the air, landing on Craven with a beautiful moonsault press, but Michael doesn’t fall! Craven’s weight advantage keeps his feet planted, but what he doesn’t see is Stryke, who leaps up and dropkicks IL’s back, which in turn causes Craven to fall, with Luchador on top! The crowd roars at the move, but then sees Stryke’s true motive. The Aussie forcefully brings IL to his feet and lifts him onto his shoulders, in a fireman’s carry. Stryke swings Rickman’s body around, but the Insane one lands on his feet behind Stryke! Andrew quickly reaches forward and pulls Stryke’s head back, trapping him in an inverted facelock. IL then quickly drops back, spiking Stryke with a reverse DDT!

 

“Stryke takes a plunge!” testifies Comet, “and believe me when I say that the Insane Luchador is out there to WIN this Clusterfuck tonight!”

 

“Thank you, Captain Obvious,” says a gracious Riley, “I mean, I figured those guys were just trying to kill each other in the ring to bore the fans to death and devour their souls.”

 

Insane Luchador gets to his feet again, and as he heads over to the turnbuckle for a crowd-pleasing, high risk maneuver, he’s trapped from behind! John Duran enters the picture, lacing his arms behind IL’s and executing the dreaded full nelson! Jeering in the Gund Arena commences, but Rickman will have none of this, as he struggles and squirms and tries to find any way out of this predicament. Rickman drops into a seated position, but Tenacious D(uran) drops to his knees, keeping the pressure on. The Notorious One goes down onto his back, and he wraps his legs around IL’s midsection, executing a body scissors and now keeping a hold on what is basically his Break Point finishing maneuver!

 

“DUR – AN – SUCKS!”

 

“DUR – AN – SUCKS!”

 

“John Duran is just sucking the life force right out of the Insane Asylum!” says Riley, “and I’m lovin’ it! Ba da ba ba ba!”

 

“Of course, it does drain the life out of Citizen Rickman,” replies Comet, “but it doesn’t exactly throw him over the top rope, and that’s what you need to advance in this match.”

 

However, before Duran can keep the Break Point in for any substantial amount of time, Dace Night comes down on him with a hard stomp that breaks the hold, to the delight of the Ohio crowd! Night brings Duran back up to his feet and begins slamming him in the head with hard forearm shots! Meanwhile, on the other side of the ring, Michael Craven has Stryke in the corner and begins choking the life out of him, until Mike Van Siclen makes a surprise guest star appearance and kicks Craven right in the jinx!

 

*CHING!*

 

As Craven doubles over in pain, Van Siclen lifts his leg in the air and brings it down across the Nightmare’s neck, executing his own version of the feared CRAVEN KICK! As Dace drops John Duran right onto his face with a flapjack, the Official Clusterfuck Timer™ begins to wind down, heralding the entrance of the lucky thirteenth participant!

 

“Through all twenty-plus minutes they’ve been in this match,” begins Comet, “Citizens Craven and Van Siclen are giving it to each other like nobody’s business, all in the name of getting a title shot at From the Fire!”

 

“…that came out too homoerotic even for *me*, Comet,” replies Riley, shaking his head (on his shoulders).

 

“TEN!”

 

 

“NINE!”

 

 

“EIGHT!”

 

 

“SEVEN!”

 

 

“SIX!”

 

 

“FIVE!”

 

 

“FOUR!”

 

 

“THREE!”

 

 

“TWO!”

 

 

“ONE!”

 

 

*BUZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ*

 

THEY DON’T KNOW!

 

WHO WE BE!

 

*BOOM!*

 

Pyro explodes and the crowd goes RAMPANT as DMX’s “Who We Be” hits, and none other than HVT comes charging from the back!

 

“From our nation’s capital of Washington, D.C.,” begins Funyon, “this is the man that claims to wreck your shit, this is HAITCH – VEEEEEEEE – TEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!”

 

Thugg charges down to the ringside area, but before he enters the ring, he lifts up the ring skirt, and pulls Xero out from under the ring, by the ankle! The crowd, despite hating Thugg, explodes at Xero finally being caught, and HVT rolls him into the ring, following him in! Once both men get up, HVT grabs Xero by the hair and runs towards the ropes, getting a full head of steam…and absolutely LAUNCHING Xero over the top rope and down HARD to the floor below!

 

“Holy crap, I didn’t think they’d ever find him!” remarks Riley, “HVT may be the smartest man in the match!”

 

“It’s not every day you hear that,” begins Comet, “but Bobbo, I think you’re right. Well, no, actually I don’t. I don’t think Thugg is very smart at anything. Except stealing my socks. He seems to do that a lot.”

 

~~~~~~~~~~

Xero

ENTERED: 10th

LEFT: 6th

ELIMINATED: Nobody

ELIMINATED BY: HVT

LEFT IN RING: Michael Craven, Mike Van Siclen, Dace Night, John Duran, Stryke, Insane Luchador, HVT

~~~~~~~~~~

 

Thugg shouts at some near by Gund fans, but he is attacked from behind by none other than Mike Van Siclen! HVT turns around to meet his rival, and easily palms his head and pie-faces him down to the mat! Meanwhile, Dace has Duran in a corner and begins striking him with his knees. Speaking of strikes, Stryke takes advantage of the fallen Luchador, lifting him up and standing behind him, hoisting him into the air for a spinning backdrop suplex…but IL flips out and lands on his feet behind Stryke! Stryke turns around just as Rickman traps him in a front facelock, falling back with a DDT! As Rickman rolls through to execute a second DDT, Van Siclen grabs Thugg by the arm and whips him towards a free corner, but HVT easily reverses the momentum and sends MVS flying into the turnbuckle. With a full head of steam, Thugg charges towards Mike and SANDWICHES him against the turnbuckle!

 

“Thugg may not be the smartest in the match,” starts Riley, “but by god, he sure is the biggest and the strongest! All men are going to bow down to this Washington, D.C. homebrew soon enough!”

 

“Did you just call him a homebrew?!” questions Comet, “because that’s just…strange.”

 

On the other side of the ring, Dace is standing behind Duran and wraps his arm under John’s shoulder, while putting the other across his neck. Night links his arms together, and as the crowd begins buzzing for the Good F’N Night-

 

*CHING!*

 

-Dace’s jinx begin buzzing as Duran shoots a mule kick that catches Night right in the swollen balls!

 

“That dastardly Duran!” cries Comet, “He just has to go for those Notorious Tactics™ each and every damn time!” A pause, and then, “Oh, I’m sorry. Please excuse my language, momma.”

 

With the High Priest of Horrorcore doubled over, the Notorious One lifts Dace onto his shoulders in an inverted fireman’s carry, once again signaling the Blunt Force Trauma! With the crowd’s jeering ringing in his ears, Duran walks over near the ropes, and he spins Dace’s body around! Night goes flying over the top rope, but in a last ditch effort, Night holds onto Duran’s head on the way down, which pulls Duran over the top rope…and BOTH MEN HIT THE FLOOR!

 

“DOUBLE ELIMINATION!” screams Riley, “What the HELL is that?! That MUST’VE been cheating on behalf of Dace. I mean, technically, he was already eliminated as he was pulling Duran out of the ring, almost! It’s like blasphemy or somesuch!”

 

“Unbelievable! Unprecedented!” Comet follows up, “I don’t think I’ve EVER seen anything like that before! I just can’t believe it!”

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dace “F’N” Night

ENTERED: 4th

LEFT: 7th

ELIMINATED: Spike Jenkins, The Memphis Eel

ELIMINATED BY: John Duran

 

“The Notorious One” John Duran

ENTERED: 5th

LEFT: 8th

ELIMINATED: Nobody

ELIMINATED BY: Dace Night

LEFT IN RING: Michael Craven, Mike Van Siclen, Stryke, Insane Luchador, HVT

~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Officials immediately come down to keep Dace and Duran separated, but even through the mass of zebra stripes, the two members of feuding stables throw punches and elbows at each other! Finally, five officials surround each man and escort them separately backstage. Meanwhile, HVT hoists Van Siclen horizontally into the air, in a big military press before releasing him, causing MVS to fall almost eight feet down to the canvas! Insane Luchador finally releases Stryke after the THIRD rolling DDT, but he turns around to come face-to-chest with HVT! Thugg is all, “Ha ha HA! Mine is an EVIL laugh! Now DIE!” and he wraps his hand around Rickman’s throat in a goozle! The crowd begins jeering as they know what’s coming up next. Thugg easily lifts Rickman into the air, spinning a complete rotation before DRIVING him down to the mat with the UNTAMED CHOKESLAM!! As the move hits, the Official Clusterfuck Timer™ begins counting down. Thugg laughs another evil laugh and soaks in the crowd’s MAD ANGER.

 

“Thugg has made Andrew Rickman his own personal BEE-HATCH!” says Riley, emphasizing the last word for effect.

 

“Why doesn’t he pick on a man his OWN damn size?” questions Comet.

 

“Well, duh, because there ISN’T anyone his size, Comet.”

 

“Touché.”

 

“TEN!”

 

 

“NINE!”

 

 

“EIGHT!”

 

 

“SEVEN!”

 

 

“SIX!”

 

 

“FIVE!”

 

 

“FOUR!”

 

 

“THREE!”

 

 

“TWO!”

 

 

“ONE!”

 

 

*BUZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ*

 

Banjo music flutters to life and the Gund Arena EXPLODES (well, sort of) as the SWF’s newest loveable redneck comes marching down, rifle and bayonet in hand and a Confederate flag vest on his body!

 

 

“Ladies and gentlemen,” begins Funyon, “it is MY HONOR to introduce to you…’COYOTEEEEEEEE’ COOOOOOOOOYYYYYYYYY WEEEEEEEEEESSSSSSSSSSTTTT!!!!!!”

 

Coy starts running a lap around the ring, high-fiving all the fans in the front row, imitating the NASCAR greats like Dale Earnhardt (rest in peace, friend. We will always remember you, Number 3.) Finally he slides into the ring, where he guns for Stryke! West vows to take that ‘damn foreigner’ out of the ring, and kicks things off with, well, a stiff kick to Stryke’s solar plexus. Coy grabs Stryke by the arm and whips him into the ropes. As Stryke comes back, Coy scoops him up and rotates around, dropping him with an immense powerslam!

 

“Coy West could DO IT here tonight!” proclaims Comet, “Yes, the redneck that everyone loves to love will go out there and win it for his family! For his RV! And for the people of the Great South!”

 

“I’m surprised everyone didn’t jump out of the ring right away after SMELLING him,” comments Riley, disgusted, “I mean, my GOD, the stench is making the people at HOME pass out.”

 

Meanwhile, a satisfied HVT turns around after giving Insane Luchador the Untamed…but he’s met by punches in bunches from Michael Craven! Craven pastes HVT with rights and lefts, but Thugg easily grabs him by the neck, tossing the Nightmare into the corner! Thugg backs up and charges with a full head of steam, leaping up to hit a CLIMAX~ SPLASH, but Craven moves out of the way! Thugg flies through the air and lands almost on TOP of the turnbuckle, and is caught in a very bad way! Thinking quickly, the Nightmare lifts Thugg’s legs up, pushing him over… over… over…and THUGG GOES DOWN TO THE FLOOR!!!

 

“DO YOU BELIEVE THAT?!” screams Comet, “Do you believe in MIRACLES?! The seemingly unstoppable Thugg has just been stopped by none other than the diabolical Michael Craven!”

 

“Poetic justice that’s about five months late,” notes Riley, but still, it was pretty cool.”

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

HVT

ENTERED: 13th

LEFT: 9th

ELIMINATED: Xero

ELIMINATED BY: Michael Craven

LEFT IN RING: Michael Craven, Mike Van Siclen, Stryke, Insane Luchador, Coy West

~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Expecting HVT’s imminent rampage, a plethora of referees runs down to the ring to contain the monster. Of course, Thugg begins screaming and shouting, giving the censors their money’s worth. HVT goes out surprisingly without incident, however, and the action continues inside of the ring. Coy West begins doing the BOOT SCOOT BOOGEY~ over to the fallen IL, and he brings him to his feet. The COYOTE~ howls at the moon before hoisting Rickman onto his shoulders in a fireman’s carry, and he proceeds to start spinning around with the MALIGNANT MERRY GO ROUND FROM HELL, the airplane spin! Coy goes through rotation after rotation, getting a total of SEVEN in before Michael Craven appears in the picture and slams his enormous boot into Coy’s face, sending both men down to the mat!

 

“That Coy West is as crazy as a pet coon!” chuckles Comet, “and finally, I can use that phrase in an appropriate context. Get it? Like, seeing how he’s all southern and a hunter and whatnot? Since, like, you know, he might have a pet coon at home?”

 

“YES, Comet, we got them the first time. I don’t think the television audience is THAT dense.”

 

Before Craven can do anymore damage, Mike Van Siclen is up and surprises Craven from behind (but really, Craven’s used to stuff like that). MVS reaches up and traps the Nightmare in an inverted facelock, and he begins to spin around to play a game of Russian Roulette…but once Craven is spun halfway around, he is able to shove MVS off, right into the ropes! As Siclen comes back, the Gulf Coast Nightmare swings with a PURO MASTURBATORY SIZED LARIATO, but Mike ducks! Craven spins around to meet MVS, but the smaller Mike quickly kicks the bigger in the gut, before placing him in a standing headscissors! The crowd ROARS not unlike the Ultimate Warrior at a C-SPAN convention as Mike bends down and is able to lift Craven up, dangling him upside down. Mike steps over Craven’s arms and prepares for a Riot Act-sized takeoff, falling to his knees and dropping Craven right on the dome of his head!

 

“THE RIOT ACT!” cries Comet, “holy crap, that’s the third head-dropping finisher Michael Craven has taken in this match! I don’t think there’s going to be much left upstairs if he makes it through the Cluster-eff!”

 

“He will simply because he’s Michael Craven. Now, if he had received those moves BEFORE his Gotta Catch ‘Em All gimmick, I would’ve questioned him, Comet. But I think he’ll be okay. A little vulnerable, but okay.”

 

Coy, meanwhile, gets to his feet, and is confronted by Stryke again. Stryke throws a punch, but Coy blocks it and sends a chop right into Stryke’s throat! The damn dirty foreigner begins coughing after impact, and Coy traps him in a front facelock, lifting him into the air. West bounces Stryke off the ropes sternum-first, and then falls backward, KILLING Stryke with the SLINGSHOT SUPLEX!! As Coy hits this, the Official Clusterfuck Timer™ begins counting down again, as the fifteenth entrant prepares for his run at glory.

 

“HE’S KILLED HIM!” bellows Comet, “my GOD, Coy West unleashes with that DANGEROUS Slingshot Suplex and nearly shatters Stryke’s spine!”

 

“That’s worse than taking a Gulf Coast Crunch, Blunt Force Trauma, Riot Act, and Executioner, times a Memphis Eel punch SQUARED!” says Riley, worriedly, “I just hope Stryke is okay.”

 

…”SEVEN!”

 

 

“SIX!”

 

 

“FIVE!”

 

 

“FOUR!”

 

 

“THREE!”

 

 

“TWO!”

 

 

“ONE!”

 

 

*BUZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ*

 

Cradle of Filth’s “Born in a Burial Gown” rocks the Gund Arena, and the crowd goes a little warmer than mild as another Junior League superstar makes his SWF debut!

 

“From Boston, Massachusetts,” bellows Funyon, “this is JIIIIIIIIIIMMY ‘THE DEMON’ LIIIIIIIIIIIIISSSSSSSSTONNNNNNNN!!!!!!!!!!”

 

Liston charges down the ramp and slides into the ring, immediately going for the recovering Insane Luchador! Jimmy grabs Rickman by the head and in the same manner of Craven, tosses IL right over the top rope! Once again, however, the Luchador hangs on, and skins the cat right back into the ring. This time is different though, as when his legs swing over the ropes, Andrew traps the demon’s head with them, and then pulls forward, bringing Liston over the top rope and all the way down to the floor with an inverted hurracanrana!

 

“Well, that was certainly…brief,” comments Comet, “That may be a RECORD for time lasted in the Cluster-eff, at least for this year!”

 

“Something like that happens EVERY year,” replies Riley, “I wish these guys would just wise up. Don’t rush into the ring like gangbusters, take your time. That way you’ll last at LEAST longer than fifteen seconds.”

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jimmy “The Demon” Liston

ENTERED: 15th

LEFT: 10th

ELIMINATED: Nobody

ELIMINATED BY: Insane Luchador

LEFT IN RING: Michael Craven, Mike Van Siclen, Stryke, Insane Luchador, Coy West

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

With the crowd solidly behind him, Rickman flips back into the ring. He takes a few steps, and bumps right into Coy West! While the Insane Luchador and the Insane Redneck have a staredown of sorts, Mike Van Siclen catches a much needed breather in the corner. West surprises IL with a backhand chop right to the throat, just as he did with Stryke. With Rickman stunned, Coy reaches down and grabs his leg, hoisting him into the air and hot-shotting him against the rope…but IL grabs onto the top rope and his feet hit the second rope! Andrew stays in that position until he sees Coy turn around, and then he jumps and spins a one-eighty, facing inside of the ring, and he springboards off, catching Coy’s head and spinning around, drilling him with a murderous DDT!

 

“And the hits keep…well, getting crazier!” points out Comet, “Luchador is putting it ALL on the line in this match, because one falsely executed high risk move and he could be DONE with!”

 

“I just can’t get over the fact that Rickman has been in the RING for so long,” replies Riley, “I mean…almost ten minutes for a spot monkey like him? Crazy, or should I say…INSANE~”

 

Mike continues to rest up in the corner, but he DOESN’T see Stryke coming from the side, as he leaps up and CRASHES into MVS with a stinger splash. As Mike stumbles out of the corner, Stryke laces one of his arms through his legs, and uses one of his own arms to wrap around Van Siclen’s neck. With that, Stryke arches back and drops Mike on his NECK with a T-Bone suplex! Meanwhile, the Insane Luchador brings the Insane Coyote to his feet and locks him in a front facelock, lifting Coy up into the air…but West shifts his weight and lands on his feet behind Rickman, and he shoves IL into the ropes! Andrew stands back-first against the ropes, and Coy summons up the speed to hop forward and shoot his leg out for a super kick, but IL DUCKS! West gets his leg caught on the top rope, and taking advantage of this situation, Rickman grabs Coy’s other leg and heaves it up…OVER THE TOP ROPE… AND COY FALLS TO THE FLOOR!

 

“Heavenly Hades!” oxymorons Comet, “the Deep South just took one big stab to the heart, as its favorite son, Coy West, just got eliminated from the Cluster-eff!”

 

“I hope another Civil War doesn’t break out over this,” fears Riley, “I mean, they could send wild gator after us or something. That’d be creepy.”

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Coyote” Coy West

ENTERED: 14th

LEFT: 11th

ELIMINATED: Nobody

ELIMINATED BY: Insane Luchador

LEFT IN RING: Michael Craven, Mike Van Siclen, Stryke, Insane Luchador

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Coy hits the floor, and the Southern SWF demographic heaves a collective sigh. Sadly, the Coyote retrieves his Confederate flag, rifle, and bayonet and marches a disappointed march backstage. In the ring, Rickman takes one more, sad look at Coy before heading back into the fray. He sees Craven still lying on the mat, and he quickly goes between the ropes and onto the nearby apron. He springboards up and onto the top rope, leaping off in a sitting position, practically crushing the Nightmare’s larynx with a beautiful legdrop! Meanwhile, Stryke tries to bundle Van Siclen out of the ring, but MVS avoids it by sending a hard elbow into the Aussie’s gut. As he stumbles back, Mike turns around and grabs Stryke by the head with both hands, leaping into the air and smashing Stryke’s head into the mat! Once again, the Official Clusterfuck Timer™ ticks away, building anticipation for the next participant.

 

“IL continues to be on fire, Mike Van Siclen rocks the house, and Michael Craven sucks it up. Who will enter this nuthouse next?” questions Comet.

 

“Whoever it is, the match could be theirs for the taking. Everyone in there is at a break point, and any simple thing could get them eliminated.”

 

“TEN!”

 

 

“NINE!”

 

 

“EIGHT!”

 

 

“SEVEN!”

 

 

“SIX!”

 

 

“FIVE!”

 

 

“FOUR!”

 

 

“THREE!”

 

 

“TWO!”

 

 

“ONE!”

 

 

*BUZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ*

 

SHOOT TO THRILL!

 

PLAY TO KILL!

 

AC/DC’s “Shoot to Thrill” SHOOTS~ out into the Gund, and the crowd begins vociferously jeering as a brilliant bright light appears out of the heavens!

 

“From San Diego, California,” bellows Funyon, “this is TOOOOOOOODDDDDDDD ROOOOOOOOOYAAAAAAAAAALLLLLLL!!!!!!!”

 

Royal takes his time getting to the ring, as the single Godly spotlight shines on him. Once he reaches the ringside area he charges into the ring, sliding under the bottom rope and making a b-line for the Insane Luchador! Todd surprises Andrew with a double leg takedown, but as soon as they hit the mat, the two men’s fists begin flying at one another! Rickman gains an advantage and is able to roll over on top of Royal, where he barrages him with HARD HARD HARD right hands! However, Royal is able to shoot a thumb up into IL’s eye, catching him off guard. Todd rolls over on top now, and uses one hand to choke IL out as he sends forearm shivers into IL’s head!

 

“These two men are reinitiating their Junior League rivalry!” points out Comet, “Rickman upset Royal for the belt at Countdown to Genesis, and you can bet Todd hasn’t forgotten that one bit!”

 

“Who DOESN’T remember flukes?” questions Riley, “Rickman proved he was just a choke artist, anyway. He’s about to be slapped down by the hand of Todd.”

 

Finally, Royal lets go and allows Luchador to get to his feet. When he does, the Todd looks to go for a lock up…but punts IL right in the shin! The blow causes Rickman to drop to a knee, but Todd grabs him in a front facelock and captures one of his legs, before arching back and sending Andrew over with a fisherman’s suplex! While this is going on, Stryke and Michael Craven have begun double teaming the vulnerable Mike Van Siclen, choking and punching him in a corner. Todd immediately picks Luchador up and stands behind him, lacing his arms through Rickman’s, setting him up for the Todd Damn dragon suplex! Royal lifts IL up…but Rickman is able to catch his feet on the second rope and springboard off of it, flipping over Todd’s head and landing safely behind him! With that, Andrew captures Royal in a quick headlock before charging towards the turnbuckle, scaling it to the top rope to execute a modified Brink of Insanity…

 

 

…BUT ROYAL SHOVES HIM OFF! RICKMAN GOES SAILING OFF THE TURNBUCKLE AND DOWN TO THE FLOOR!

 

“GENIUS! YES! GENIUS!” cries Riley, “Todd Royal is the smartest wrestler alive! I mean, good god, that man is so smart! He finally got rid of that pesky mosquito and killed his dream dead!”

 

“This just…excuse my German…sucks!” proclaims Comet, “Andrew Rickman was really building to something GOLD here, and his dream gets shattered by that damn Todd Royal!”

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Insane Luchador

ENTERED: 12th

LEFT: 12th

ELIMINATED: Jimmy Liston, Coy West

ELIMINATED BY: Todd Royal

LEFT IN RING: Michael Craven, Mike Van Siclen, Stryke, Todd Royal

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Royal drops to his knees and thanks Todd for such ingenuity. However, the heavenly father DIDN’T warn Royal about Michael Craven coming up behind him and slamming his knee into the back of his head! Royal drops down to the mat face first, and Craven begins stomping down on him. Meanwhile, Mike Van Siclen begins fighting back against Stryke, stryk-ing him with stinging elbows. As MVS swings for a knockout blow, Stryke catches his arm and laces it through Mike’s leg in a pumphandle position, before hoisting him up onto his shoulder and sitting out, DROPPING MIKE ON HIS HEAD WITH THE LOW END THEORY!!

 

“Mike might be dead!” cries Comet, “he’s already been in the match for thirty minutes, and he just took a VICIOUS head-dropping move!”

 

“Now all he needs to do,” begins Riley, “is toss that worthless piece of dead weight. He went for it all, but it’s gone. Sorry Mikey, come back next year.”

 

The Nightmare brings Royal to his feet and grabs him by the arm, whipping him across to the other side of the ring. Todd hits the ropes and charges back, and Craven lifts his leg up for a big boot, but it’s ducked! Todd continues to the other ropes and gains more momentum, charging at Craven with his shoulder lowered, tackling him to the mat with a SPEAR! To incapacitate his foe, Todd gets up and grabs Craven’s leg, spinning around it and folding it over his other leg in the shape of a 4 before falling back, executing the WRATH OF TODD!

 

“It looks like the iron men of this match are really getting it taken to them!” points out Comet, “first Van Siclen, and now Craven! It’s just a mad, mad world, and we all live in it!”

 

Riley can only blink at the oddity that is Cyclone Comet’s commentary.

 

Craven screams in pain as Todd wrenches the Figure Four Leglock in. It doesn’t last long, however, as Stryke sees this and charges over, dropping a big elbow right onto Royal, causing him to break up the hold! Stryke brings Royal to his feet and grabs him by the arm, whipping him into the ropes. As Todd comes back, however, he shoots his legs out downward, and takes Stryke’s knees out with a basement dropkick! Stryke drops to his knees, and Todd again charges to the ropes, this time launching himself off of Stryke’s knee and swinging his other leg around, connecting with a BIG shining wizard!

 

“ROY - AL SUCKS!”

 

“ROY - AL SUCKS!”

 

“I have to concur with these fans,” testifies Comet, “Royal is just hounding the man meat here tonight!”

 

“He’s like a hungry lap dog,” notes Riley, “ready to take whatever’s given to him.”

 

“I think that was the most homoerotic exchange we’ve ever had, Comet.”

 

Finally, the Official Clusterfuck Timer™ begins to wind down, as Todd Royal finds himself the only one standing in the ring!

 

 

“TEN!”

 

 

“NINE!”

 

 

“EIGHT!”

 

 

“SEVEN!”

 

 

“SIX!”

 

 

“FIVE!”

 

 

“FOUR!”

 

 

“THREE!”

 

 

“TWO!”

 

 

“ONE!”

 

 

*BUZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ*

 

[HEIGHT: 7’2”]

 

[WEIGHT: 320 pounds]

 

[sTATUS: RELEASED~]

 

Killswitch Engage’s “When Darkness Falls” rocks through the Gund Arena, and the crowd absolutely goes BANANAS, and Todd Royal’s eyes turn to SAUCERS!

 

“Representing the UNHOOOOOOOLY TRIIIIIIIINITY,” begins Funyon, “from Sydney, Australia, this is the ANTIIIIIII HEEEEEL MACHINE, TEEEEEERRENCE ‘JAAAAAAANUS’ BAIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIILEY!!!!!!!!!!”

 

Janus slowly marches towards the ring, intently focused on the ring and, namely, Todd Royal. Todd quickly tries to find a way out, scampering to the nearest ropes, but once he reaches the ringside area, Janus charges and slides into the ring! Royal tries to run, but Janus grabs him by the hair! Todd turns around and Bailey wraps his hand around his neck, choking the life out of Royal. With no other alternative, Todd simply lifts his leg up between Janus’-

 

*CHING!*

 

-crushing his jinx in the process!

 

“Janus makes a BIG entrance at the SWF Cluster-eff tonight,” begins Comet, “but my GOD, his jinx may be discombobulated into little jinxies after being in the ring for mere seconds!”

 

“But let’s think about this,” replies Riley, “do you REALLY want a guy like Janus procreating? I mean, he needs his vasectomy anyway. I saw him trying to hump Coy’s pet coon the other day. Disgusting.”

 

Terrence doubles over and Todd rushes to the ropes, looking to gain some kind of advantage, but as he comes back, Janus begins to stand up, and he flips Royal eight feet into the air before he comes CRASHING down to the earth with a BAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK BODY DROP! Stryke returns to his feet and tries his luck with the big man, but Janus easily swings his arm out and connects right under the fellow Aussie’s chin with a NASTY lariat! Now Craven attempts to get him some of the Anti-Heel machine, but Terrence grabs him by the head and drives HIS massive cranium into it, with a force that sends Craven flying back and onto the mat! Royal slowly gets up to his feet and inadvertently bumps into Janus, which causes Bailey to grab Royal by the head and swing with all of his might-

 

*BOOOOOOOOM!*

 

-executing an ENORMOUS Knuckle Bomb that sends Royal FLYING across the ring!

 

“JESUS H CHRIST CRUCIFIED BY PONTIUS PILATE!” bellows Comet, offending some devout Catholics in the front row, “That may have been the greatest thing I’ve ever seen in my life!”

 

“Ha,” scoffs Riley, “you obviously haven’t seen the Ron Jeremy vs. Peter North cockfight that’s been circling around Kazaa.”

Edited February 3, 2004 by Suicide King

[Guest Suicide King]

Janus ROOOOOOOOOAAAAARRRRRSSSSSSSS and the fans roar back in delight, as he’s the only one standing. Looking for more action, Bailey spies Mike Van Siclen, finally shaking the cobwebs out in the corner. With one glance, Terrence charges towards MVS with his shoulder lowered, and PLOWS into his abdomen with an enormous shoulder thrust! Bailey backs up a bit…and charges in with ANOTHER huge shoulder thrust! As Mike stumbles out of the corner, Janus scoops him up and holds him sideways, before dropping to a knee and executing a rib-breaker! As Mike cries out in pain, Janus rises and drops a second time, executing another. For the third time Terrence repeats the process, finally dropping Mike down to the mat.

 

“LET’S – GO – YA – NUS!” *clap – clap – clap-clap-clap*

 

“LET’S – GO – YA – NUS!” *clap – clap – clap-clap-clap*

 

“I always wondered what would happen if I called him Yay – nus, like ANUS,” Riley helpfully describes, “but then he turned around, mooned me and said ‘THIS is my ANUS!’ and that was it. I was hooked.”

 

“…”

 

“’Hooked’ is ghetto slang for ‘disgusted’, you idiot.” Riley shoots back.

 

Janus is surprised from behind (but he likes it that way), as Craven leaps into the air and sends a dropkick right into Terrence’s upper back. Bailey is forced against the turnbuckle, and Craven begins assaulting him with hard body shots. However, Bailey is able to shake these off and shoot a mule kick hard into the Nightmare’s abdomen, causing him to back off. Janus then turns around and lifts Craven onto his shoulders in a fireman’s carry, and he proceeds to spin around with another AIRPLANE SPIN~. As Janus hits the fourth rotation he spins Craven’s body around, catching him in a ¾ facelock on the way down executing the Thoughts into Chaos! Craven’s face bounces off the mat and he quickly rolls to a corner for safety to avoid any more punishment.

 

“Craven and Van Siclen have been in this match for over thirty minutes now,” points out Comet, “and that is a testament to their endurance! I thought for sure they’d be gone, but they are the pit bulls of this match!”

 

“Well, they sure are pulling out all stops,” agrees Riley, “but it just looks like they’re getting their asses kicked right now.”

 

Terrence reaches his feet and turns around, coming face to face with Stryke. The brave Aussie begins attacking Janus, alternating a chop to the throat with a punch to the gut. Bailey begins staggering back from the blows, but Stryke continues without remorse. Finally, Stryke backs into the ropes and charges forward, leaping into the air sideways for a cross-body block…but Janus catches him in midair! As the Official Clusterfuck Timer™ begins to count down, Bailey runs forward and drops down, crushing Stryke with a move looking vaguely similar to his rival Va’aiga’s MAORI DROP~.

 

“That was certainly a wink, ballyhoo, smile and nod to Citizen Bailey’s rivalry with the Maori Badass,” comments Comet.

 

“This is an omen!” cries Riley, “an omen that Va’aiga is going to Maori Drop Danny Williams all the way to hell and bring the SWF Championship to the Unnamed’s camp!”

 

…”SIX!”

 

 

“FIVE!”

 

 

“FOUR!”

 

 

“THREE!”

 

 

“TWO!”

 

 

“ONE!”

 

 

*BUZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ*

 

Bon Jovi’s “Wanted Dead or Alive”, acoustic style, belts out of the Gund Arena system, and the Ohioans break into respectful applause as the final Junior Leaguer makes his entrance in the Clusterfuck!

 

“From Long Beach, California,” roars Funyon, “ALAAAAAAAAAAAAAN CLAAAAAAAAAAAAARK!!!!!!!!!!”

 

Clark jogs to the ring, waving at all the fans he can. He stops in front of one young child and tells him to “Shoot for the moon. If you miss, you’ll land among the stars.” Nevertheless, the child starts crying, and Alan continues his jovial jog to the ring. As he reaches the ringside area, he goes to make a big leap into the ring…but he slips and falls backwards! It seems there was a pad of…some kind of substance left behind by Junior Official Mr. Bukkake, and Clark suffered the consequences! Clark pops back up, smiles, and then bends down to check his shoelaces…but realizes he’s barefoot! Shaking his head in disbelief, Clark slides into the ring to enter the fray.

 

“Well, that was a little…” Comet searches for a word, “…embarrassing. I’m sure that’s not how Clark wanted to make his official SWF debut.”

 

“The idiot’s barefoot, what does he expect?!” questions Riley, “he shouldn’t be wrestling; he should be outside smoking grass and attempting to find his astral self.”

 

Clark enters and goes charging right for Todd Royal, who is resting up in the corner. The two men rekindle their long-running SJL feud, with Clark getting the better of the tired Royal. Alan rears back and begins dishing out knife-edge chops to Todd, with the Gund crowd “woo”ing at each one.

 

*SMACK!*

 

“WOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

 

*SMACK!*

 

“WOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

 

“I’m sure these two men will NEVER forget what they’ve gone through,” Comet helpfully points out, “they’ve traded titles, wins, losses, and blood, and no clean-cut winner was ever determined.”

 

“Well, I think that’ll be proven here tonight,” says Riley, “whoever can make a bigger impression in their first SWF event…sounds like good criteria to me.”

 

Alan grabs Todd by the arm and whips him into the corner, but Todd reverses and Alan hits the turnbuckle. Todd blindly charges in, and Clark takes advantage of the situation, lifting his legs up and wrapping them around Royal’s neck, turning them to his side and giving Todd a modified hurracanrana…that SENDS HIM OVER THE TOP ROPE!

 

 

…but Todd lands on the apron!

 

“TODD DAMN IT!” cries Comet, “I’ve seen that happen SO many times tonight, but it still gets me! I always want to believe that the devilish fiend is heading for the showers, but they use their Todd-damned agility to avoid it!”

 

Riley perks up at the sound of ‘showers’, but quickly deflates. “Yeah, well, you get used to it,” he manages, “disappointment after disappointment…reminds me of your film career, Comet.”

 

The crowd gives a collective groan as Royal recovers, but Alan quickly remains on the attack. Clark gropes for his adversary, trapping him in a front facelock. Alan reaches down for Todd’s tights, but Royal slugs him once, twice, and three times in the gut. Now TODD utilizes the front facelock and hoists Clark into the air, before tossing him backwards, sending him DOWN TO THE FLOOR!

 

“HOLY CRAP, THAT WAS QUICK!” cries Comet, “and SO unfair! Royal selfishly eliminated his rival to avoid any further contact with him! He’s a chicken, that’s what he is!”

 

“Comet, sometimes I’m the blindest person on earth, but I saw NOTHING illegal there,” Riley grins, “that’s just ingenuity. So the second-to-last SJL Champion got eliminated quick; hey, Spike Jenkins was an SJL champ once, too, I’ll have you know.”

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Alan Clark

ENTERED: 18th

LEFT: 13th

ELIMINATED: Nobody

ELIMINATED BY: Todd Royal

LEFT IN RING: Michael Craven, Mike Van Siclen, Stryke, Todd Royal, Janus

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

The crowd sits in disbelief as Clark is eliminated so early, but the other participants in the ring pay no attention to this. Mike Van Siclen, for instance, is up on his feet, and he begins stomping down on Stryke. MVS brings him to his feet and kicks him in the gut, placing him in a standing headscissors to set him up for the Riot Act. However, since Michael Craven knows what this feels like, he decides to bail out Stryke, rising to his feet and nailing Mike with a dropkick before he can execute the move! Van Siclen falls onto his back and Stryke drops to his knees, recovering his energy. Craven has no room for rest, though, as Janus stalks over and begins attacking the Nightmare! Janus slugs Craven woozy with three hard punches, and then grabs him around the waist before arching back and easily flipping Craven over with a belly-to-belly suplex!

 

“Every punch, every hold, every suplex,” lists Comet, “every move just wears down the two iron men, Craven and Van Siclen, even more! They’ve got to be in SO much pain right now. I’ve seen more head drops on them then I’ve seen in some Japanese tapes!”

 

“I think they’re BEYOND the threshold of pain, Comet. These guys are gong to stay in simply because they’re so USED to taking this punishment,” notes Riley, “I think they’re just running on adrenaline right now.”

 

Stryke picks Van Siclen up and wrenches in a front facelock, before backing into the nearest corner. He sits up on the top rope with his feet firmly on the second rope and leaps off, spinning around before driving Mike’s head into the mat with a tornado DDT! Todd Royal, meanwhile, tries to take credit for Janus’ destruction, as he brings Craven to his feet and walks him over to the ropes. Todd shoves the Nightmare against the ropes and tries to push him over, lifting his legs up and pushing with all of his might. Craven STILL refuses, however, and is able to fight off the Todd-damned annoyance. Finally, Royal lets go, and the two men begin slugging it out as the Official Clusterfuck Timer™ begins counting down yet again. Craven overpowers Todd with an elbow smash, and shoves him into the corner.

 

“Beyond the threshold of pain or not,” starts Comet, “that’s yet ANOTHER time Mike Van Siclen has been dropped on his head, and I doubt he’ll be able to withstand much more of that.”

 

“Well, who could?” replies Riley, “I just think after all he’s been through, he’ll be able to muster up SOMETHING to finish the last leg of this race.”

 

…”SEVEN!”

 

 

“SIX!”

 

 

“FIVE!”

 

 

“FOUR!”

 

 

“THREE!”

 

 

“TWO!”

 

 

“ONE!”

 

 

*BUZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ*

 

JOHNNY DANGEROUS!

 

“After the Flesh” by My Life With the Thrill Kill Cult thumps through the speakers and the crowd goes NUTS as one half of the SWF Tag Team Champions is about to enter the Clusterfuck!

 

“From Las Vegas, Nevada,” starts Funyon, “he is one half of the S – W – F TAG TEAM CHAMPIONS OF THE WORLD, this is THE BAAAAAARAAAAACUUUUUUUUDA, JOOOOOOOHNNY DAAAAAAAANGEROUSSSSSSSS!!!!!!!!!”

 

Dangerous doesn’t appear from backstage, however, and the crowd begins booing at the thought of a no show! However, the camera pans up…and reveals Johnny rappelling from the rafters down into the ring, much like Ethan Hunt from the great “Mission: Impossible”! Johnny moves so stealthily that the participants in the ring don’t even notice he’s there! Dangerous lets go of the cable and drops into the ring, immediately targeting the big man, Janus! Johnny peppers the Anti-Heel machine with punches, but Terrence simply palms his head and pie-faces him back to the canvas! Janus gets NO quarter, however, as Stryke bum-rushes him with a big dropkick to the face! Bailey stumbles backward, and Stryke rushes to the nearest turnbuckle, where he takes off the padding, exposing the steel bolt! Janus moves towards Stryke, but the smaller man drops down and scissors Janus’ leg, causing him to fall forward and smash his face against the exposed turnbuckle!

 

“And the big man is taken down BIG TIME,” points out Comet, “Stryke was ingenuous in causing Janus’ face to collide with that solid steel. I hope Janus enjoys his nap, heh heh.”

 

“Well, Stryke finally grows some BRAINS,” says Riley, “I mean, Jesus, Janus has been there the ENTIRE time and no one’s thought of a REAL way to take the man out. Stryke finally hit the nail on the head…err, head on the bolt, or whatever.”

 

Meanwhile, Craven lifts Todd up and places him on the top rope. He then clasps his hand around Royal’s throat and heaves him up, spinning him around and dropping him to the mat with an ENORMOUS Chokeslam! Once again, the Nightmare is immediately surprised from behind as Mike Van Siclen rises to his feet and traps Craven in an inverted facelock, before he twists around and drives Michael to the mat with the Russian Roulette! Johnny Dangerous advances towards MVS…but Stryke spins him around and kicks him in the gut, before trapping his arms in a double underhook! Stryke doesn’t hesitate in hoisting Johnny up into the air, completely vertical…and then dropping down, spiking his head with a double underhook brainbuster! And, finally, there were two men standing: Mike Van Siclen and Stryke.

 

“And it’s the two men that have VOWED to win the Clusterfuck,” begins Comet, “one for personal gain and pride, the other for his very career! This could be something special!”

 

“My money’s on Stryke,” says Riley, “as much as Stryke’s been a joke in the past, he knows what’s at stake in this match, and he’s not about to let some punk like Mike Van Siclen – a punk that’s already been in the match for almost forty minutes, no less – end his career.”

 

The two men charge forward, interlocking arms like bulls interlocking horns in Seville. Stryke immediately overpowers Mike and pushes him against the ropes, trying to eliminate the Spectacle, but Mike is able to break free of the lock up and throw punches at Stryke. MVS grabs Stryke by the arm and whips him across the ring, and as Stryke comes back, Mike remains leaning against the ropes and bends down, using Stryke’s momentum to flip him OVER THE TOP ROPE…

 

…and Stryke lands on the apron!

 

“Stryke’s career must have flashed before his very eyes!” cries Comet, “he was on the absolute BRINK of elimination! He must be thanking whatever deity he prays to for his agility!”

 

“And you can only have that luck so much,” notes Riley, “pretty soon you’re going to run out of chances.”

 

Mike quickly approaches and applies a front facelock to Stryke, hoisting him vertically in the air to bring him back into the ring, but Stryke shifts his weight and lands behind MVS! Thinking fast, Stryke swings his left arm around and clotheslines Mike in the back of the head, sending him OVER the top rope…but Mike grabs onto Stryke, pulling HIM over the top rope as well!

 

Mike lands on the apron!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

…and STRYKE HITS THE FLOOR!

 

 

The commentators are speechless.

 

 

~~~~~~~~~~~

Stryke

ENTERED: 11th

LEFT: 14th

ELIMINATED: Nobody

ELIMINATED BY: Mike Van Siclen

LEFT IN RING: Michael Craven, Mike Van Siclen, Todd Royal, Janus, Johnny Dangerous

~~~~~~~~~~~

 

The crowd sits in shock as Stryke remains on the floor, taking in all that has happened. Van Siclen slides back into the ring, and with everyone else in the ring down, Mike simply stares back at Stryke, giving a knowing look of ‘goodbye.’ And then it happens.

 

The fans that have been booing Stryke since his return, since before his return, the fans that have sent him death threats and other derogatory remarks…are clapping. They all begin clapping, in a mighty standing ovation for the Aussie that has poured his blood, sweat, and quite nearly possibly tears for the SWF, and even the IGNWF. Stryke gives it all one last look…and then walks up the ramp for the last time.

 

Comet starts to choke up, “I…I don’t know what to say. Stryke has been a staple of this federation for so long, and just by being thrown to the floor, his career is over. Somehow, this doesn’t seem right.”

 

“That’s the trouble with bargaining,” says Riley, who even has a tinge of sadness in his voice, “it can ALWAYS backfire. It’s a damn shame that Stryke had to go out this way, but he’s had quite the storied career regardless.”

 

Nonetheless, the show must go on, and Mike Van Siclen realizes this as he sees Janus getting to his feet. With the mighty Bailey perched on his knees, Mike runs at him and presses up on his knee, swinging his leg around and smashing his knee into Janus’ head with the shining wizard! Van Siclen moves with new life now, as he picks Dangerous up by the scruff of the neck and goes to toss him over the top rope…but Johnny holds on! The secret agent sends an elbow back into Mike’s gut which causes him to stumble back, and Johnny ducks under his arm and sets him up, lifting him into the air and spinning around…dropping him with the MI SLAM! Johnny rises up to his feet and soaks in the cheers of the crowd…just as Michael Craven shoves him from behind, right into the ropes! In one quick motion, as the Official Clusterfuck Timer™ begins for the final time, Craven swings his arm out and, just like Stryke, sends Johnny over the top rope with an enormous lariat…but Johnny doesn’t stay on the apron, he tumbles to the floor!

 

“And the secret agent is made relatively quick work of,” proclaims Comet, “as Michael Craven has proven time and time again that he may be the SMARTEST wrestler in this match!”

 

“Oh, definitely,” agrees Riley, “Craven’s rid us of FOUR wrestlers already, the highest running total in the match. He must be doing something right.”

 

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Johnny Dangerous

ENTERED: 19th

LEFT: 15th

ELIMINATED: Nobody

ELIMINATED BY: Michael Craven

LEFT IN RING: Michael Craven, Mike Van Siclen, Todd Royal, Janus

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

…”FOUR!”

 

 

“THREE!”

 

 

“TWO!”

 

 

“ONE!”

 

 

*BUZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ*

 

The crowd begins jeering before the music even hits, as they know who Lucky #20 is. Indeed, Metallica’s “Some Kind of Monster” begins booming out of the speakers, and the Gund Arena is none too receptive as a single spotlight shines down on the ramp.

 

“Representing the UNNNNNAAAAAAAMMED,” bellows Funyon, “from Kansas City, Missouri, he is the S – W – F Intercontinental Television CHAAAAAAMPION, CHAAAAAAARLIE ‘GRAPPLER’ MAAAAAAAATTHEWSSSSSS!!!”

 

Grappler marches down the ramp, ICTV Championship around his waist. He removes his belt as he gets to ringside and places it on the stairs before carefully sliding under the bottom rope, entering the ring. His first target is the mighty Janus, as he sees the Trinity member lying face down. Matthews LEAPS on top of Bailey’s back…and wraps his arm around his throat, executing a rear naked choke!

 

“For god’s sake, this is ridiculous!” argues Comet, “they guy enters a match where you can only win by throwing your opponent over the top rope and he uses a RESTHOLD?!”

 

“Sound psychology if you ask me,” replies Riley, “I mean, I can’t really explain it to you now because…because that’d just ruin it for everyone, but believe me when I say Grappler has a reason for doing this.”

 

“Boring everyone over the top rope?!” Comet asks, referring to the sign shown earlier.

 

Charlie continues to drain the life out of Janus (and the crowd) with the choke hold, and he is able to turn on his side and wrap a meaty leg around Janus’ midsection, applying half of a body scissors! Meanwhile, Craven takes up another rest period in the corner, and Todd Royal finally gets to his feet, and begins stomping down on the Spectacle, Mike Van Siclen! Royal brings Mike to his feet and applies a front facelock, before he snaps back and sends MVS over with a quick suplex! Todd keeps the facelock applied as he rolls onto his stomach and gets up to his feet, before he brings Van Siclen up into the air and again and drops back with a normal vertical suplex! Royal persistently keeps the hold on and gets to his feet again, this time hoisting Mike up into the air… five seconds… ten seconds…and he FINALLY drops Mike down with a delayed suplex, completing the TRINITY!

 

“Todd damn, this is great!” cheers Riley, “I think Todd Royal may be the MVP of the SJL graduating class!”

 

“He certainly is making a strong showing in the Cluster-eff,” agrees Comet, “but one has to wonder, what if Todd was one of us?”

 

“Just a slob like one of us?” questions Riley.

 

“Yes, Bobbo, just a stranger on the bus, trying to find his way home.”

 

As Royal pops up to his feet, Craven charges out of the corner and places his arm like a shortstop scooping up a ball and throwing it to first, as he attacks Todd with the…

 

 

HIGH POWER FOREARM SMASH!

 

Todd drops like a sack of bricks, and unlike Dace, doesn’t get right back up. Meanwhile, amidst the snores of the crowd, Grappler FINALLY releases the rear naked choke, and Janus looks completely out of it. Charlie locks eyes with the Nightmare, and the two men lunge at each other. Craven lifts his leg up for a BIG BIG boot, but Matthews is able to grab the leg and shove Michael down to the mat. Charlie takes a hold of Craven’s OTHER leg as well, and Grappler begins spinning… spinning… and spinning, executing an ENORMOUS giant swing! Four rotations… five… finally, after SEVEN rotations in the giant swing, Grappler lets go and the Nightmare goes flying to the opposite side of the ring. Matthews follows him there, though, and sits Craven up, dropping to his knees and wrapping his arm around Michael’s neck, using his free hand to stop the blood flow to the brain, executing the feared SLEEPER HOLD!

 

“Jesus, Bobbo, does it get any worse than this?!” asks Comet, bewildered, “I figured that since this wasn’t a conventional match, Charlie Matthews wouldn’t bore us to death with rest hold after rest hold!”

 

“It’s…just his style, Comet,” you’re cramping on his flow, yo, and everyone knows that when you cramp someone’s flow…style…whatever, that there are DIRE consequences! For instance, Grappler could start singing Joan Osborne right there in the ring!”

 

“We covered that base already, Bobbo.”

 

On the other side of the ring, Terrence Bailey uses the ropes to rise to his feet, but he comes upper-body-to-face with Mike Van Siclen! Mike sends two hard punches to the gut of Janus and backs into the ropes, charging at him at full speed. MVS leaps into the air horizontally…but Bailey catches him out of mid-air! Janus shifts Mike’s weight around so he’s on his shoulder, and Terrence calls for the dreaded ADF II! He charges forward…but Siclen begins wriggling…and flips out of the hold! With Janus temporarily confused (because big dumb uglies get like that sometimes), Mike runs to the ropes again. This time, he leaps up and rotates, going behind Janus as he crosses his arms over the big man’s face for the RED LIGHT…but Janus keeps his ground and grabs Mike by the head! The crowd gives a mixed reaction as Terrence holds onto Mike and walks towards the ropes, before flipping Van Siclen over his head, OVER THE ROPES, AND DOWN TO THE FLOOR!

 

“Sweet merciful…oh bollocks, I’ve run out of nouns!” moans Comet, “but nevertheless, Mike Van Siclen, a man I thought was going to go ALL the way, just got eliminated by the enormous Citizen Bailey! What a disappointment!”

 

“It may be a disappointment,” replies Riley, “but it’s about to get bigger and better than EVER. We’re down to the final four, baby, and when one more person is gone, we’re going down, going down now, going down, going down now to the triple threat match!”

 

“Bobbo, you followed Joan Osborne up with Led Zeppelin. You deserve to be slapped.”

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mike Van Siclen

ENTERED: 2nd

LEFT: 16th

ELIMINATED: Manson, Stryke

ELIMINATED BY: Janus

LEFT IN RING: Michael Craven, Todd Royal, Janus, Charlie Matthews

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Meanwhile, Todd Royal finally rises from the deadly HIGH POWER FOREARM SMASH, and Grappler, satisfied with Craven’s dream-like state, releases the sleeper hold. Royal sees both Matthews and Bailey rise up like Herculean monsters and begins to grow very, very afraid. Janus jokingly shouts “Rotisserie!” and Todd shrieks with freight! Nevertheless, he decides to take his chances and charge at Matthews, shooting his legs out low and taking Charlie’s knee out with a basement dropkick! As Grappler falls to a kneeling position, Royal backs into the ropes and looks to follow it up, but as he comes charging back, Bailey intercepts him, scooping him up and rotating around like a powerslam, but dropping Royal across his knee to complete the Crash and Burn! Janus brings Charlie up by the hair and instead of exchanging any more pleasantries, holds him by the neck and runs towards the ropes, looking to toss him out of the ring! However, Grappler puts his arms out and grabs onto the rope, trying to make Terrence’s momentum carry HIMSELF over the top rope instead. Unfortunately, Bailey is able to stop himself as well, and Matthews resorts to his standby countermove…

 

*CHING!*

 

…allowing his trick knee to act up and crush Bailey’s coffee sweeteners!

 

“Rest holds and low blows, oh my,” says Comet, “Citizen Matthews’ offense truly is astounding. To be honest, I hope he tries that move on Mr. Bukkake one day…he might have to wash his tights afterwards.”

 

“Hay –zeus CHRISTO, Comet!” screams Riley, “I enjoy Mr. Bukkake as much as the next guy, but let’s keep his antics BACKSTAGE. The last thing we need is some random gay getting off on some hot man-man action at ringside.”

 

“…were you just rubbing yourself, Bobbo?”

 

“…No, it’s just I have a…leg cramp.”

 

 

With Janus doubled over, Matthews ducks under his left arm and grabs his left leg, summoning the strength to lift the Anti-Heel Machine up into the air, where he holds him for two seconds, before spinning around and dropping Bailey with a huge Judgment Slam! Meanwhile, back at the farm, Todd Royal sees the woozy Michael Craven, and attempts to take advantage of him (in a completely nonsexual way, obviously). Royal brings Craven to his feet and stands behind him, lacing his arms under his in a full nelson before attempting to arch back for the Todd Damn…but the King of Nightmares stands his ground! Just as Janus did to Van Siclen, Craven leans over the ropes and grabs Todd by the head, flipping him over his head and over the top rope…but as Royal goes over, he grabs onto the top rope and hangs on for dear life! Royal flips up and skins the cat to enter the ring, and as the Insane Luchador did to Jimmy Liston, he locks his legs around Craven’s head and tries to flip him over, but Craven is just too strong! The Nightmare holds onto Royal’s legs and pushes them off with all of his might, using such force that not only do Todd’s legs flip over the top rope, but he loses his grip on the rope and tumbles to the outside of the ring!

 

“Royal is GONE!” says Comet, pointing out the obvious, “and then there were three! Michael Craven has been in the match since the beginning; Citizen Bailey has been in for about ten minutes. And Charlie Matthews…well, he’s been in for less than five. Your thoughts, Bobbo?”

 

“Craven’s been dropped on his head a dozen times, Janus has had his jinx jumbled, and Grappler has been boring people to death. Really, it’s a toss up.”

 

“What I fear the most,” adds Comet, “is that Grappler now knows he can use his deathly-boring submissions to actually WIN this match, so I have a feeling that’s all we’re going to see!”

 

“We can only hope, Comet.”

 

~~~~~~~~~~~

Todd Royal

ENTERED: 16th

LEFT: 17th

ELIMINATED: Insane Luchador, Alan Clark

ELIMINATED BY: Michael Craven

LEFT IN RING: Michael Craven, Janus, Charlie Matthews

~~~~~~~~~~~

 

*DING!*

 

After blowing Mr. Bukkake off, Nick Soapdish slides into the ring to officiate this very important final chapter of the Clusterfuck! Janus pulls himself up from the Judgment Slam, and meets both Charlie Matthews and Michael Craven in the center of the ring. The three men look each other in the eyes, taking in all that has happened so far. All the trauma, nightmares, sweat, and Bukkake stains. All the goddamn boring rest holds.

 

*BOOM!*

 

Thinking at the same time, Bailey and Craven both turn on Grappler, attacking him with a double fist to the face! Matthews hits the mat with a possibly broken nose, as Craven quickly lifts his knee right up into Janus’ midsection! Craven takes Janus by the arm and whips him towards the corner, but Bailey is able to spin around and reverse the whip, as Craven goes saaaaaaaiiiiiling awaaaaaaaaay into the corner. Janus builds up a head of steam as he goes charging into the corner, but the King of Nightmares lifts a leg up, catching Bailey right in the face with a boot. As Terrence stumbles back, Craven presses forward and, showing tremendous strain, lifts Janus up onto his shoulders in a fireman’s carry!

 

“Craven’s going for the Gulf Coast Crunch!” proclaims Comet, “a move that will certainly spell doom for Janus, and will bring Michael Craven to From the Fire!”

 

“Unless Grappler attacks him, because, you know, he’s known for coming from behind.”

 

 

Craven prepares to spin Janus’ body around, when-

 

*CHING!*

 

-Charlie Matthews uppercuts Craven’s coffee cakes from behind!

 

“See?” Riley gloats.

 

“Good Groveling Grover!” cries Comet, “I’ve seen so many hands touching so many testicles, I might catch gay! Gay me, Riley! Let’s get the gay show on the gay road!”

 

Riley simply flutters his eyelashes in knowing contentment.

 

Michael drops Janus to the mat and Grappler keeps his hands on Craven, placing him in a standing headscissors! Matthews reaches down and flips Craven up onto one of his shoulders, squeezing the King of Nightmares with a deliciously tight Shoulder Rack! Craven hollers in pain, but when asked by Soapdish, refuses to quit. Charlie keeps the hold in a little longer, but then flips Craven over so he lands on his feet again, but immediately places him in the standing headscissors. Charlie lifts Michael up again, but this time keeps him in the upside down position, before sitting out and driving Craven into the mat with a big piledriver! As Craven flops down to the mat, Grappler quickly lies on top of him, summoning Soapdish to count the pin!

 

 

“ONE!”

 

 

 

“TWO!”

 

 

…but Janus drops a big elbow down across Grappler’s back! The count is broken and Matthews rises to his feet, ready to take on the other challenge of the match. However, he isn’t ready for the flurry of punches that the Anti-Heel Machine delivers, as right hooks and left hooks go flying across Charlie’s face! The ICTV Champion is literally on the ropes before Terrence winds up his arm…

 

 

*BOOM!*

 

…and LEVELS Grappler with a Knuckle Bomb that sends him flying over the top rope and to the outside!

 

“KNUCKLE BOMB!” cries Comet, “sweet Jesus, that’s the kind of bomb that makes your face explode like a piñata!”

 

“Only without the deliciously sweet candy inside,” bemoans Riley, “and really, what good is breaking a piñata only to find no candy inside? That’s like watching your parents’ honeymoon tape and seeing no sex. What’s the point?”

 

“Speak for yourself, Bobbo.”

 

“Oooh, can I have your parents’ video, then?”

 

As Matthews lays sprawled out on the floor, Terrence advances towards Craven, looking to finally finish this match. Bailey scoops the King of Nightmares off the mat and holds his arm, whipping him towards the ropes. Craven rebounds and as he approaches, Janus uses the momentum to easily scoop Michael off the mat and over his shoulder, setting him up for the ADF II! Terrence holds him there for a second, and then drops to his side, dropping Craven on the top of his head!!!

 

“YA – NUS! YA – NUS! YA – NUS!”

 

“This is IT!” announces Comet, “Citizen Bailey made his SWF debut last year at From the Fire, and he’s going to return there this year with an SWF World Championship shot!”

 

Bailey rolls on top of Craven and Nick Soapdish drops down to count, with the entire Gund Arena echoing each number!

 

 

“ONE!”

 

 

 

 

 

 

“TWO!”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“THREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

…but Matthews pulls Janus’ leg, pulling him OFF of Craven and out of the ring, breaking up the count! The crowd vociferously jeers the acts of Grappler, but Matthews yanks Janus off the apron and the Anti-Heel Machine falls onto the floor, flat on his face! Matthews quickly slides into the ring, and covers Craven himself!

 

 

 

“ONE!”

 

 

 

 

 

 

“TWO!”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“THREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEENOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!”

 

Craven somehow, someway, manages to use the short amount of rest he got to lift a shoulder off the canvas! In complete shock, Grappler moves to Michael’s legs and grabs a hold of them, turning his body over and arching back, executing a big Boston Crab!

 

“This is insanely smart strategy!” commends Comet, “as both men are targeting Michael Craven exclusively! They know that Craven has been in this match for over forty minutes, and that is definitely a weakness that needs to be addressed!”

 

“This match is no disqualification,” Riley points out, “so I have to wonder why these guys aren’t just going outside, getting a chair, and smacking everyone with it. It’d be a much easier way to win, in my humble opinion.”

 

Craven hollers out in pain, but before Charlie can even establish the move completely, Janus slides back into the ring and elbows Matthews in the back of the head! Grappler falls forward onto his face, and Janus continues to stalk him. Terrence brings Charlie back to his feet and scoops him up onto his shoulder, ready to deliver another ADF II straight to hell! However, Charlie shifts his weight and is able to slip off of Bailey’s shoulder, landing behind him! With as much speed as he can muster, Charlie stands side to side with Janus and wraps one arm behind his head while holding onto his arm with the other, sweeping the Anti-Heel Machine’s leg out and pushing forward, rolling Janus onto his shoulders with a cradle!

 

 

 

“ONE!”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“TWO!”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“THREEEEEEEEEEEEE – NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

 

Janus gets a shoulder up to the ROAR of the Gund Arena fans! Terrence rolls over to a corner of the ring, and Grappler slowly rises to his feet himself.

 

*CHING!*

 

 

…but Michael Craven, some how, lifts his fist in between Charlie’s legs, crushing his enormous scrotum! Matthews howls in pain and drops to his knees, rolling out of the ring and down to the floor!

 

“How appropriate!” applauds Comet, “After all those nut shots, Citizen Matthews finally gets what he had coming to him!”

 

“Oh, please,” retorts Riley, “Grappler does it and you scold him, but Craven does it and you applaud him like he’s the second coming of Attila the Hun.”

 

“Bobbo, remember what you told me on Smarkdown? Hammurabi’s Code, an eye for an eye? Obviously you don’t, but that’s what law Craven is going by here!”

 

“Damn Babylonians…” Riley mutters.

 

Craven slowly but surely pulls himself up to his feet, and Terrence does at the same time. The two men decide to give it at least one more go, lunging forward and locking arms. Janus overpowers the weakened King of Nightmares, holding his arm and whipping him towards the opposite ropes. As Craven returns, Janus swings his arm for an enormous lariat, but Michael rolls a somersault on the mat under Janus’ arm! Craven gets up and Janus turns around, just as Craven applies a front facelock to Janus and shoots backwards, drilling Bailey with a big DDT!

 

“DO NOT COUNT CRAVEN OUT YET!” cries Comet, “As much as I despise the King of Nightmares, you have GOT to respect his endurance and vitality!”

 

“Grand Slam, this is for you!” cheers Riley, “Michael Craven is STICKING it to you! You put him at number one so he couldn’t make it, but look at him now, baby!”

 

Craven doesn’t even bother going for the pin, instead bringing Janus back up to his feet and heaving him onto his shoulders in a fireman’s carry! The crowd gives a very strong mixed reaction as the Nightmare uses his last ounce of energy and adrenaline to spin Janus’ body around, dropping his head on his shoulder with the GULF COAST CRUNCH!!!! Terrence falls flat on his back and Craven rises to his feet-

 

 

*CRAAAAAAAAAAAACK!*

 

-as Charlie Matthews reenters the ring, swinging the Intercontinental Television Championship belt right at Michael Craven, connecting with his forehead! The King of Nightmares flops down to the canvas, and Grappler himself isn’t in too great a shape, as he throws the belt down and immediately drops to his knees. He sees Janus down, however, and moves over to him, folding the big man’s legs over his shoulders with a deep cover, as Nick Soapdish goes down to count!

 

 

“DON’T LET IT END THIS WAY!” screams Comet, “This can’t happen! Michael Craven used the Gulf Coast Crunch, not Charlie Matthews! Damn it, this can’t be happening!”

 

“This isn’t about who does what, Comet!” replies Riley, “It’s about who’s the smartest and the craftiest! Matthews is taking full advantage of a right place right time situation!”

 

 

 

“ONE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“TWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“T

H

R

E

E

E

E

E

E

E

EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

 

 

 

 

*D – I – N – G D – I – N – G D- I – N – G*

 

 

The Gund Arena goes silent. The only thing that can be heard is Metallica’s “Some Kind of Monster” and Funyon’s booming voice.

 

 

“LADIES AND GENTLEMEN,” he begins, “THE WINNER OF THE TWO -THOUSAND AND FOUR CLUUUUUUUSTERFUCK, CHAAAAAAAAAAARLIE ‘GRAPPLER’ MAAAAAAAAAAAATTHEWSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!!!!!!!!!!”

 

“I…am in absolute shock,” says Comet, and Riley can only nod in agreement.

 

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Terrence “Janus” Bailey

ENTERED: 17th

LEFT: 18th

ELIMINATED: Mike Van Siclen

ELIMINATED BY: Charlie Matthews

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Grappler rolls off of Janus, and his eyes are wider than saucers as he rolls into a sitting position on the mat. Soapdish finally walks over to him and raises his arm. The jeers in the Gund Arena are deafening. Even James Matheson sprints down the ramp and slides into the ring, giving Charlie the manliest hug of hugs. Meanwhile, the King of Nightmares regains his senses, and notices what is going on. Saying he is disappointed would be a severe understatement.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Michael Craven

ENTERED: 1st

LEFT: N/A

ELIMINATED: Aecas, Jacob Helmsley, HVT, Johnny Dangerous, Todd Royal

ELIMINATED BY: N/A

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Black confetti and streamers fall from the heavens as Charlie Matthews finally rises to his feet, soaking in the jeers of the crowd. Matheson hands Matthews the ICTV belt, and raises his arm to the unreceptive Gund Arena fans.

 

“Michael Craven goes ALL THE WAY,” bemoans Comet, “he’s on the brink of winning, when Charlie Matthews, a man who wasn’t even in the match for ten minutes, steals the win right from under his nose! I’m not a fan of Michael Craven, but damn it, we owe him that much. He had this match won!”

 

“None of that matters, Comet!” retorts Riley, “Charlie Matthews has won the right to battle for the SWF Championship at From the Fire, either against Danny Williams or…oh, crap, Va’aiga could win the Title tonight! It’d be Unnamed vs. Unnamed!”

 

“I just can’t get over how unseemly this is!” Comet says, as a balloon hits his can of Pepsi Max® and pops. Meanwhile, Charlie Matthews finally rolls out of the ring, Matheson in tow, as they trudge up the ramp. Matheson can only say one thing to Matthews as he walks.

 

 

“WE’RE GOING TO FROM THE FIRE, BABY!!”

Edited February 3, 2004 by Suicide King

[Guest Suicide King]

Comet: Well here we go people, this one has been brewing for a long, long time and here we are, Danny Williams vs Va’aiga for the SWF world title.

 

Riley: In one corner The Maori Badass, nearly three hundred and twenty of the meanest and most evil tattoo covered muscle and bone this federation has ever seen. In the other you have pure power, pure technique and a wrestler dedicated to his craft in a way few others are.

 

Comet: Would you stick your neck on the line and predict a winner?

 

Riley: Well normally I’d back the Maori in a heartbeat, but given the occasion, the rules and the difficulty unseating a champion always proves, I couldn’t say. I’m really torn on a prediction here, Comet.

 

*CRACK*

 

The gentle thwack of wood on horsehair and the bouncy bassline of baseball anthem “Go Home!” by the Blessid Union Of Souls signals the entry of the commissioner of the SWF, the Heavy Hitter himself Grand Slam Mark Stevens!

 

Funyon: Ladies and gentlemen… THE COMMISSIONER OF THE SWF… GRAND SLAM MARK STEEEEEEEEEEEEEEVEEEEEEEEEENS

 

Go home!

You’re done!

Hit the showers!

Thanks for the runs, you bum!

You got rocked!

So just beat it!

You got the hook,

GO HOME!

 

Grand Slam seems a little somber as he walks down the entrance ramp, not pumping up the crowd as usual, but given he’s out on VERY official duties it fits the mood and his role well. Grand Slam steps inside the ring ropes and asks for Funyon’s microphone, before reading carefully from a pre prepared introduction…

 

Grand Slam: The following match is sanctioned by the Smarks Wrestling Federation and the Ohio State Athletic Commission, and will be for the SWF Heavyweight Championship of the world. The fighters will be Va’aiga Tu’ipolotu of New Zealand and Danny Williams of the United States of America. The match will be decided by one pinfall, submission or knock out. There will be a one hour time limit, and the title cannot change hands on a disqualification or a count out.

 

…and Grand Slam’s match turns from somber official to his normal hyped up tone…

 

Grand Slam: And on a different note, it’s my extreme pleasure to introduce to you this evening… DEEEEEEEEEEEE EMMMMMMMMMMM EXXXXXXXXXX

 

The hard keyboard intro of “What’s My Name?” by DMX brings the artist himself out through the entrance gate, wheeling round with mic in hand and saulting the crowd as he starts rapping…

 

DMX: Yo, yo, yo what up Cleveland?

DMX bout to drop some shit fo the main event

You think it’s a game?

You think it’s a gaaaaaaaame?

Come On!

 

…and the break beat hits…

 

C’mon!

Watcha really want?

Watcha really want?

D-M-X c’mon!

S-W-F…

Hey yo, hey yo, hey yo…

 

DMX: WHAT’S MY NAME?

 

…and on that line from out of the entranceway bursts out the Maori Badass, draped as usual in his jet black and silver boxer’s robe, it’s hood loosely hanging over his bowed head. As DMX raps on, Va’aiga takes the slow walk out to ringside, walking up into the ring and sliding himself between the ropes.

 

D-M-X

If you want it we got it

Come and get it n****z we wit it

All you gotta do is set it baby

Ryde or die

What'cha n****z want, uh, uh

What'cha n****z want

 

Va’aiga stands in his own corner, as his chosen second, John Duran, fresh from his titanic struggle in the Clusterfuck stands outside the ring offering up words of advice to his Maori companion. DMX winds up the rapping and the music dies down, and as the OTHER X leaves to tumultuous applause, Va’aiga waits in the ring, looking up to the entrance area.

 

Comet: A command performance there from Citizen… ummm… X… marking a dramatic entrance for the Maori.

 

Riley: Va’aiga always likes to enter a PPV match in style, and this is no exception. You wouldn’t get Danny Williams entering the ring with such a sense of occasion.

 

Comet: Danny Williams more prefers the “Walk down and kick bottom later” approach from what I know, Robert.

 

As Va’aiga stands in the ring, eagerly awaiting the contest ahead, the arena is greeted to the slow, smooth guitar intro to “The Jester’s Dance” by In Flames. Danny Williams, hair matted down, bangs hanging over his face takes a slow metered walk down the ring steps as the instrumental’s second guitar kicks in. The tune takes shape and builds as Danny steps under the ropes…

 

*DAN-E! DAN-E! DAN-E*

 

…and acknowledging the crowd with a smile as he looks out into them, Danny Williams readies himself in position in his own corner. Grand Slam insists that the two men meet in the middle and shake hands and flashbulbs glare across the crowd as fans strain to take pictures of the clam before the storm. The Heavy Hitter salutes the fans as he walks away from the ring, handing his mic to Funyon as he departs.

 

Funyon: Introducing first the challenger. Weighing in tonight at 319lbs, he hails from Rotorua, Aotearoa... may I introduce The Maori Badass…. VAAAAAAAAAAAAA’AAAAAAAAAAAIIIIIIIIIIIIIIGAAAAAAAAAA TUUUUUUUUUUUUUU’IIIIIIIIIIIIPOLOTUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU

 

Va’aiga throws off his robes with a brisk hand motion and sticks his tongue out in a defiant Maori pose. A handful of black and silver streamers fly into the ring, quickly dealt with by ring assistants as the cameras flash again.

 

Funyon: And his opponent, weighing in tonight at 245lbs, from Louisville, Kentucky, this is YOUR SWF HEAVYWEIGHT CHAAAAAAMPION OF THE WOOOOORLD, DEATHWISH DANNY WIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIILIIIIIIIIIIIIIAMS!

 

The air is filled in a blur of red, gold and black as streamers for Danny Williams rain down from all directions. Danny Williams strikes a pose, maybe the last with his title belt and waits for the noise, the chants, the flashes and the streamer storm to die down. The many, MANY streamers are draped from the ring ropes, posts and cover Danny Williams, Va’aiga and Mark Hebner with the colors of the Unholy Trinity, and those of Danny Williams. Outside the ring Dace Night stands in Danny’s corner, looking for a better view of the match, seconding his best friend against his former ally and confidante. Mark Hebner lifts up the belt in both hands showing the whole crowd the two men in the ring are fighting for. Duran and Dace back well away from the ring. Danny and Va’aiga back off to their corners and Hebner signals for the bell…

 

*DINGDINGDING*

 

*DAN-E! DAN-E! DAN-E!*

 

Comet: We’re on! Danny Williams and Va’aiga, as the Maori called it “One time for all time.”

 

Riley: Va’aiga challenged Danny to walk the King’s Road, and that means he intends to put Danny through HELL, and expect Danny to get up and take more! The question is can Danny Williams triumph through adversity, and how much adversity can the Maori throw at him?

 

Stepping into the middle of the ring, face to face (or more accurately face to neck given the huge height difference), the Maori Badass and the Louisville Elbower. Va’aiga wears his near permanent smile, an expression that crosses his face when he’s not enjoying laying the hurt on someone. Danny Williams’ granite chiseled features are impassive as ever, Williams concentrating more on the task in hand than posturing. Both the Maori and the American stalk and circle, neither wanting to throw a strike or move that his opponent could counter.

 

Comet: Cagey start from both men here.

 

Riley: You expected anything else? Neither Danny nor Va’aiga wants to get their face elbowed flat or their head removed with a lariat in the opening stages of the match, but both men know the other is one move away from a finish at any stage.

 

After taking a full circle of each other, Danny finally decides to break the ice by throwing an elbow, aimed right at the point of the Maori Badass’ jaw, but Va’aiga blocks by holding his fist in front of his own face, deflecting Danny’s blow forearm to forearm. Danny tries again, this time throwing a left rather than a right, but again trying to dislocate the Maori’s jaw with a trademark elbow, but again Va’aiga blocks the move and takes only the most minimal of impacts.

 

Comet: Va’aiga really doesn’t want to get hit with those elbow smashes.

 

Riley: Well if you were in there with Danny Williams, would you want the point of his elbow wrapped round you head?

 

Comet: Not really, no.

 

Taking a half step back and rotating his shoulder in his ball joint, Danny Williams frowns and contemplates his actions. Va’aiga covers up, more like a boxer than a wrestler and fires off a long hard straight right hand, powerfully thrown, but easily dodgeable and Danny weaves out of the way. The Maori drops back and tries a body shot, launching his ham sized fist towards Danny’s stomach area but the winding strike is blocked, martial arts style with a solid deflection.

 

Comet: Both these men have the other well, WELL scouted.

 

Riley: Well when you’ve faced an opponent a few times, you learn what to expect. Danny knows Va’aiga throws solid punches and that lariat, Va’aiga knows Danny throws those lethal elbows. Makes it harder for both guys to hit their moves.

 

The two rivals in the ring take slow pacing steps around each other, both looking for gaps in their opponent’s armor, neither wanting to leave a gap themselves. Va’aiga offers a lockup and Danny takes, but with the Maori quickly getting position and going for a top wristlock, Danny breaks and throws an elbow catching Va’aiga on the jaw before he can get hands down to block. Va’aiga’s head snaps backwards with a sickening crack. Va’aiga turns his head back slooooowly to face Danny again and glowers.

 

*DAN-E! DAN-E! DAN-E!*

 

Looking to take quick advantage Danny grabs for an arm of Va’aiga and with a slingshot action, the Maori is sent flying towards the ropes. The Maori regains control easily, at this early stage of the match the head unclouding at some impressive rate. Throwing his arm out sideways Va’aiga preps one of those EVIL NASTY LARIAAAATOOOOS, but Danny has him scouted like Baden-Powell and goes straight for the flailing arm, wrapping it round the back of Va’aiga’s body with a wristlock, top wristlock, hammerlock sequence. Danny relinquishes the hammerlock and grabs straight for a back waistlock, making everyone in the arena draw breath…

 

*oooooOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOH*

 

 

Comet: Could it be that Citizen Williams is looking to spike a Dangerous German on Va’aiga at this early stage of the match.

 

 

…but Va’aiga backpedals furiously and forces Danny back to the ropes and Va’aiga stretches a big Maori arm out and grabs hold, forcing referee Hebner to ask for the break, which Danny offers cleanly.

 

Riley: A close shave for the Maori Badass there. Getting dropped on your head this early in the match could have proved fatal for Va’aiga. He seems over keen to hit the lariat too.

 

Comet: Well it IS the move that’s put down people from Flesher to Bastion. And it’s pinned Danny Williams before.

 

The two combatants reset in the center of the ring and again it gets all cagey as the combatants circle again. Danny offers an elbow throwing his arm out and looking to make contact again, and this time Va’aiga ducks through under the blow and takes a waistlock. With his cobra like arms wrapped tight around the waist of his smaller opponent, Va’aiga stomps the mat and looks to start an overhead Suplex, but Danny’s low center of gravity comes to his aid, not for the first time in his career, and Williams fights his way free of the hold before Va’aiga can lift him more than a couple of inches off the ground.

 

Comet: Va’aiga is having problems shifting Danny Williams, Robert.

 

Comet: When Danny Williams plants his feet wide apart, if he’s fresh and fighting fit there’s not a lot you can do to shift him where you’re fighting the weight. And Va’aiga’s not got the greatest array of takedowns.

 

Looking to demonstrate his unshiftability, Danny Williams offers a lockup again to Va’aiga, and this time the Deathwish One has had time and space to prepare his position for maximum leverage. Danny plants his legs wide and as Va’aiga tries to power Danny downwards, the leader of the Unholy Trinity absorbs all the force before breaking the knuckle lock and shooting, taking Va’aiga down to the mat for the first time. Danny looks to grab a body part and scissor it, but Va’aiga BUTT scoots to the ropes and makes Danny break, just as he grabs a leg bar.

 

Comet: That’s twice Va’aiga has had to break using the ropes. Is Va’aiga showing signs of weakness in the face of his former mentor?

 

Riley: I doubt it. Va’aiga is just showing signs of a tactic. That might be the first of his long and distinguished career of kicking people’s asses with random acts of violence.

 

*DAN-E DAN-E DAN-E*

 

Dace: C’mon Danny!

 

Va’aiga takes his time standing, annoying Danny who backed off towards the opposite side of the ring, wanting another standing reset, convinced he’s getting the better of the Maori from that situation. Va’aiga finally does stand as Danny approaches, threatening a stomp. Va’aiga launches a quick left that catches Danny off guard. This time Danny staggers backwards, rocked by the force of the blow, and Va’aiga uses the break to fire off a second rapid left!

 

*BOOOOOOOOOOO*

 

Duran: HIT HIM!

 

Riley: Here comes the Boo-yah…

 

Off balance and staggering, Danny Williams is in no position to block or dodge as a third thunderous left hand fires into his jaw. Danny’s head rocks backwards as the punch connects. Va’aiga draws his right hand up to his lips and kisses his balled fist for luck, but Danny Williams ducks the big bad right hook thrown his way, and as Va’aiga staggers round, drawn by the momentum of his own fiercely thrown punch, Danny slips round to a side and places his head under the Maori’s shoulder, dropping Va’aiga to the mat with a backdrop Suplex!

 

*BOOOOOYEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAH*

 

Comet: What a counter from Danny Williams! That’s both of Va’aiga’s biggest strikes, and neither of them has nit home so far.

 

Riley: More than anything this has to be frustrating for the Maori. He’s been given the chance to hit the big stuff and he’s missed. What the hell CAN he do to his former mentor?

 

Standing slowly and shaking his head, clearing the clouds of the sharp move from Danny, Va’aiga momentarily drops his always on guard and Danny sneaks another massive elbow strike though. Danny doesn’t allow Va’aiga any time for thought as he grabs the Maori’s arm and wrenches it forcefully, sending Va’aiga back into the ropes again. Hurtling at full speed back towards Danny, Va’aiga is an unsettling sight, but Danny is in full control of the situation and Deathwish extends an arm, wrapping it round Va’aiga’s neck. The Maori’s momentum throws his legs out, and Danny kneels down, dropping Va’aiga on his back!

 

*DAN-E! DAN-E! DAN-E*

 

Comet: Neckbreaker Drop! Down goes the Maori.

 

Riley: Danny is using Va’aiga’s momentum against him, and that’s got to be a bad thing for a man who generates as much momentum as a charging Maori Badass.

 

Comet: This Cleveland crowd seem really behind the Unholy Trinity tonight, Robert.

 

Riley: Va’aiga never needed the backing of the fans anyway. He gets his adrenaline from anger and hatred, and it’s a powerful motivational aid.

 

Taking his time, Danny Williams stands slowly and draws breath, looking down with a mixture of hatred and disdain for his Maori opponent. Though having a begrudging respect for Va’aiga, there’s a whole ton of condescendence lacing a stiff kick to the base of the Maori’s spine as he sits up. Va’aiga looks up at Danny and focuses his eyes on his opponents, and as Danny fires off a second kick to the inside of the standing Va’aiga’s thigh, the Maori’s gaze doesn’t waver. Back to a vertical base, Va’aiga’s glare is burning, and Danny gets one more spinal kick, this time wrapping a leg round the standing Maori’s back.

 

Comet: Va’aiga seems to be just ABSORBING those kicks from Danny Williams.

 

Riley: Danny’s training tends to favor upper body work, and the kicks are a useful general wear down tactic against some opponents, but against the Maori it’s little more than keeping the offense flowing rather than causing any damage.

 

Again Va’aiga and Danny Williams find themselves standing in a neutral position. Va’aiga shoots for a double leg takedown, but Danny grabs a quick standing front chancery, applying the classic takedown defense and opening Va’aiga up to a pair of downward elbows into his neck. Va’aiga reels backwards out of the hold, still bent forwards and his former mentor rushes in, jumping a little and smashing his knee into Va’aiga’s bowed head, sending the Maori down to the canvas.

 

Dace: C’mon Danny! Follow up!

 

*DAN-E! DAN-E! DAN-E!*

 

Comet: Danny takes Va’aiga down amateur style there, which when mixed with his stand up fighting makes him a deadly fighter.

 

Riley: I’d say “if only he could throw kicks against standing opponents he’d be world champion,” but that’s sort of a moot point.

 

Hopping up to his feet with remarkable speed for one his build, Danny Williams has Va’aiga grounded and in his sights once more. Taking rare time to acknowledge the crowd, Danny slaps his favored right elbow and holds it aloft before dropping a diving elbow smash into the grounded Maori’s jaw. Va’aiga’s head bounces off the mat as Danny lies in position, grasping and hoisting up a massive Maori leg and after checking that both Va’aiga’s shoulders are down, Mark Hebner slaps his hand against the mat…

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TH…

 

*TWOOOOOOOOOOOOO!*

 

*DAN-E! DAN-E! DAN-E!*

 

Comet: Danny Williams earns the first two count of this match.

 

Riley: Probably not the last either, judging by how hard these two guys are to take down for a three. You don’t’ become world champion for nothing. You don’t become #1 contender for nothing either.

 

Williams resets again and looks down at the Maori Badass, carefully eyeing his prey like any skilled hunter should. Va’aiga takes his time standing, shaking his head to clear it again. Duran slams his arms into the ring apron, adding a little...

 

Duran: C’mon Va’aiga!

 

Yet another punt kick makes the Maori climb to his feet a little more sharply than he’d have liked, Danny Williams hurrying the Maori back to a position where his wrestling edge may tell sooner. With his eye focused on the massive tattooed covered face of his Maori opponent, Danny drops back a couple of steps like a quarterback taking position in the pocket. Va’aiga is still slowly turning and his eye catches Danny’s, just in time to get a damn good look at Danny’s onrushing forearm as it clocks the Maori across the side of the face. Va’aiga’s head is turned with the force of the blow and Va’aiga spits out and ever so slowly turns his gaze back towards Danny, busy backing off again.

 

Comet: Danny Williams is just battering Va’aiga’s head with these elbows and forearms. I know Va’aiga ahs a head made of pure New Zealand granite, but surely he can’t take too much of this punishment.

 

Riley: You’d be surprised how much punishment a pacific islander’s head can take, Comet.

 

Having his three step run up re-established, Danny lines up another strike for the head of the Maori and Va’aiga, still off balanced from the first forearm shot gets rocked again by a second shotgun blast from Danny’s arm. Va’aiga nearly overbalances backwards, having to wildly swing his arms to retain his balance as Danny holds position, not needing to step back for a run up Va’aiga is creating himself. From a hunched position, Danny Williams’ tree trunk like legs give him that spring to finally take Va’aiga down with a straight strike, flooring Va’aiga with his third running forearm! The Maori drops to the mat near the ropes and hauls himself out of the ring for some recuperation time as Danny squats in the ring breathing heavily.

 

*DAN-E! DAN-E! DAN-E!*

 

*VA-ING-UH SUCKS! VA-ING-UH SUCKS!*

 

Riley: Wow, Va’aiga dumps on his big Maori be-hind with a forearm! There’s just not many in the game who can throw the power into their strikes to even MOVE the Maori with a shot, let alone down him.

 

Comet: Danny Williams is like a coiled spring. There’s a lot or power in that 245lb frame.

 

The camera pans over to Duran and Va’aiga having a quick word as the double feature zooms into shot, showing Danny launch that third forearm smash, dropping Va’aiga to the mat. In the ring Mark Hebner puts on a count, a more metered and regular one than the usual slow wrestling 10 count, but with 20 REAL seconds instead of 10 long counts, Va’aiga has plenty of time to get back in.

 

Duran: Slow the pace, man.

 

*DAN-E! DAN-E!*

 

Hebner: FIVE!

 

Duran: Keep control, and don’t let the guy headhunt you!

 

Hebner: SIX!

 

Va’aiga nods…

 

Hebner: SEVEN!

 

…and the Maori slides back into the ring, taking his standing position near the ropes and a long way away from where Danny Williams is standing, brooding.

 

Comet: A little strategy discussion between the Maori Badass and his notorious assistant.

 

Riley: It helps to get advice. Especially when you’re, let’s face it, not the brightest.

 

Allowing himself a breather before wading back in again, Danny has time to contemplate strategy, and as Va’aiga approaches, Williams goes for a waistlock, looking again to slip around behind and maybe play for a Dangerous German. The Maori Badass lets Danny slip round, but rolls with the momentum himself and takes his OWN back waistlock. Va’aiga goes to lift Danny up German style himself, but Danny loosens the Maori’s grip on him with a pair of back elbows that rock the Maori out of his hold. Danny backs off and snaps off a quick dropkick, catching the Maori square in the upper chest. Va’aiga reels and rocks as Danny springs to his feet, and Deathwish follows the kip up with a rapid knee to the gut, bending the Maori double and allowing Danny to grab his opponent by the neck and force him into a standing head scissors! Danny raises an arm, and the crowd raise their decibel level!

 

*DAN-E! DAN-E!*

 

*POW-ER-BOMB! POW-ER-BOMB*

 

Comet: Looks like Danny Williams is going for the Powerbomb here.

 

Riley: And don’t the crowd know it. He’s gonna fold the Maori up double! This could be curtains for the Maori and he’s barely hit a move!

 

Dace: DO IT!

 

Gritting his teeth and straining every sinew in his body, Danny Williams wrenches hard on the stomach of the Maori Badass, trying with all his might to lift up Va’aiga for his chosen finisher, the High Angle Powerbomb. Williams lets out a strangled scream as he tries and tries again to lift the Maori, but Va’aiga refuses to budge and slowly stands, dropping Danny backwards with an American style backdrop. Va’aiga turns and glowers down at his fallen former colleague. Va’aiga fires a few cursory stomps into the chest of his opponent, before grabbing for the legs of Williams and dragging him into the center of the ring.

 

*BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO*

 

Riley: No powerbomb for the Maori this evening so far . And I’m damn sure that’s the way Va’aiga wants it to stay, Comet.

 

Comet: You’re not wrong there, Robert. That folding powerbomb has the power to crush ANY SWF superstar, and that includes the Massive Maori Monstrosity.

 

Holding Danny Williams’ legs aloft, Va’aiga takes a long Maori step over Danny’s back, turning him slowly over, flipping him onto his back. Va’aiga clenches his teeth and focuses as he crouches down, lifting Danny’s stomach off the canvas level and holding him up by his muscular legs. Danny’s back arches unnaturally and his face contorts into an expression of pure suffering as Va’aiga places his weight downwards on Danny’s hooked legs, locking in fully the lethal Boston Crab. For the first time in the match Va’aiga offers himself a slight smile as the crowd noise dies down and Dace and Duran’s cries of encouragement are clearly audible throughout the arena.

 

Duran: Make the bitch tap!

 

Dace: Go for the ropes, Danny!!

 

Comet: Va’aiga has the Boston Crab locked in tightly on Deathwish Danny Williams, and you have to believe that for the first time in the match, this hold gives Va’aiga some real control.

 

Riley: This is one of the double impact holds where as much as it looks like the crunch is on the legs, it’s going to rip your lower back apart at the same time and THAT’S where most of Va’aiga’s high impact moves affect.

 

Referee Mark Hebner drops down to canvas level and checks on Danny Williams to see if the SWF’s incumbent world champion wishes to tap the hell out and end the pain, relinquishing his belt to the Maori in the process. As much as that would please Va’aiga, there’s a defiant shake of the head as Danny reaches an arm out to its fullest and claws away at the mat, using what little friction he can to edge his body out of Va’aiga’s grasp. Va’aiga keeps his grip locked in tight, but is forced to backpedal a short step or two to keep the Boston Crab in its most effective position, and quickly locks the hold TOTALLY back in. Mark Hebner asks again and the shake of the head is less defiant this time.

 

Dace: C’mon Danny! Break!

 

Riley: I can well see Danny Williams escaping this hold, but I’m not entirely sure that there hasn’t been some medium term damage done. Not enough for any permanent injury, but enough to make Danny think twice about using his back muscles to say… power out of a pin technique.

 

For a second time Danny reaches a clawing arm out, and again the hold position moves on the mat, Danny getting enough purchase on the mat to drag Va’aiga an arm length towards the ropes, and Va’aiga given the choice of letting Danny Williams break free of the hold or shifting the overall position chooses the latter option.

 

Va’aiga: ASK HIM!

 

Danny: NO!

[Guest Suicide King]

*clap… clap… clap… clap…*

 

Mark Hebner signals the no to the crowd as Dace begins to rhythmically slap the mat, urging on both his stablemate and the crowd, clapping along in support. Danny Williams repeats the “clawing his way towards the ropes” trick, Va’aiga fighting for every inch of distance to the ropes with every cubic inch of his body mass. Now one arm’s length away form the ropes, the crowd’s claps get faster, working Danny up into a frenzy, providing the leader of the Unholy Trinity with that little boost of adrenaline…

 

*clap…clap…clap…clap clap clap clap CLAP CLAP CLAP CLAP CLAPCLAPCLAPCLAPCLAPCLAPCLAPCLAPCLAP*

 

Fire in his eyes, Danny Williams stretches his arm out and gets his fingertips on the bottom rope, but no more and the World Champion can’t quite grasp his arm around the rope to force a break. Sensing the ropes are close, Va’aiga redoubles his efforts and stands a little, trying to drag Danny Williams back towards the center of the ring, but as Va’aiga pulls on Danny’s legs, Danny just, just, juuuuuuuuust gets his left hand round the rope, and he hangs on so as Va’aiga pulls, Danny pops free of the hold and the Maori is left in the center of the ring on his own! On top of that, Va’aiga is stuck facing the wrong direction and even takes a brief second to realize that Danny has broken loose! Danny rushes and throws a wild knee strike, crashing into the turning Maori and both men drop back first to the canvas.

 

Comet: DANNY WILLIAMS HAS BROKEN THE BOSTON CRAB! DANNY WILLIAMS IS BACK IN THE MATCH!

 

Riley: But I’ll say it again. How much is his back hurting after that extended hold? How many of Va’aiga’s big slams and suplexes can Danny Williams take before collapsing in a puddle of spinal fluid?

 

Lying on the mat and breathing hard, Danny Williams grabs hold of this back and winces, the pain shooting through his spine obvious on his face. Meanwhile to his left, the Maori Badass rolls over and grabs the middle rope, lazily hoisting himself back up again. Seeing Danny still writhing on the mat, and given a helpful shout of encouragement from Duran, Va’aiga storms over to the grounded Williams, kicks the champion onto his stomach and fires a bunch of rapid stomps, bangbangbangbangbang into the small of Danny Williams’ back.

 

Duran: Follow up! I wanna see him SCREAM!

 

*BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO*

 

Comet: Va’aiga is establishing himself in this match again. Keeping the pace slow and focusing on holds, and on the back of Danny Williams is even giving the Maori a modicum of breathing space in his battle against the World Champion.

 

Riley: It’s not often you see Va’aiga outmatched for strikes, so it’s the power and control game and that means it’s the mat game from the Maori Badass.

 

With his knee outstretched, Va’aiga drops to the mat driving his patella into the serratus posterior inferior area of Danny Williams’ back. Va’aiga stays at canvas level and locks one arm around the neck of his closest rival. Va’aiga’s other arm is wrapped round the legs of Williams and the Maori plants the same knee he dropped right into the small of Danny’s back again. Va’aiga rocks backwards a little, rolling Danny Williams onto his side where the Maori pins him, pulling back on the calves and neck of Williams, bending the World Champ around his Maori kneecap.

 

*BOOOOOOOOOOOOO*

 

Comet: Va’aiga with a modified version of the bow and arrow hold there, and it’s more pressure on Danny Williams not to tap out.

 

Riley: Danny’s got to be feeling like a freight train hit him from behind. I half expect to see a vertebra come flying out onto our commentary table, Comet.

 

Oblivious to the heckling of the crowd, Va’aiga continues to pile on the pressure, wrenching hard on Danny Williams and bending the Trinity leader’s body into an almost inhuman shape. Mark Hebner again drops to mat level to check whether Williams is about to quit, but from inside the vice like grip of Va’aiga’s arm a muffled…

 

Danny: No!

 

…can be heard. Va’aiga curses in disgust and his glare turns to Mark Hebner, but the referee shrugs in a “Nothing I can do about it.” Way and Va’aiga snorts derisively and goes back to wrenching back on Williams.

 

Comet: Danny Williams must have spent near four or five minutes trapped in Va’aiga’s limited but deadly submission repertoire.

 

Riley: It’s going to take fighting spirit of the highest order for Danny Williams to get back in this match.

 

Comet: If it wasn’t Danny Williams in there right now, I’m not sure this match would still be going.

 

Riley: Danny Williams is one of those wrestlers who’ll risk more serious and permanent injury to win a match, especially one against a man who he has a LOT of negative feelings for. Discretion may be the better part of valor, but it’s not part of his arsenal.

 

Wriggling like an earthworm, Deathwish Danny Williams desperately tries to free something, ANYTHING to allow himself to break Va’aiga’s modified bow and arrow hold. Another…

 

Va’aiga: ASK HIM!

 

…form the Maori does little to change what Danny Williams is doing, other than to provide another muffled…

 

Danny: No!

 

…from the World Champ. Mark Hebner turns to Va’aiga and shakes his head, confirming to the Maori that his Kentuckian opponent isn’t giving up any time soon. Va’aiga pulls harder on the neck end of this lethal back breaking hold, but as Va’aiga concentrates too much on one arm, Danny breaks a leg free from Va’aiga’s OTHER arm and with a few wild swings manages to kick himself free of the leg end. Seeing that Danny has freed himself, Va’aiga uses the headlock to drag Danny back down onto his back and the Maori dives to a pinning situation, with the already in position mark Hebner perfectly placed to count…

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TH….

 

*TWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!*

 

Comet: THRE…no two!

 

Duran: That was three. C’mon referee!

 

Riley: Deathwish Danny Williams made a brave move kicking out there. In releasing himself he’s kept his hopes of retaining this world title alive, but at the same time you have to pick SOME moment to take your losses and skedaddle.

 

Cursing his luck, Va’aiga rolls up to one knee and cranking his neck out, the Maori Badass holds his own face a mere handful of inches above his oppoenent’s. While Danny’s eyes are half closed, Va’aiga’s are wide open and burning deep with the fires of hatred. Sensing he has a solid enough advantage, Va’aiga chooses his next move carefully, and decides it’s time to hit Danny with a lethal…

 

Va’aiga: WHAT’S MY NAME?!?

 

*BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO*

 

The chorus of boos that echoes round the hall washes over Va’aiga like low tide over a rock formation, and the Maori does little to acknowledge the crowd as he grabs an arm of Williams’ and stands, his height advantage allowing the Maori to easily drag his Louisville based opponent to his feet. Va’aiga transitions to a high top wristlock, stretching Danny out and making Mr. Deathwish grimace again. From the wristlock Va’aiga draws Danny Williams’ arm back across his own throat, forming a half goku-raku choke and setting Danny up for something FAR more vicious.

 

*BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO*

 

Riley: OK now Danny Williams is in DEEP trouble.

 

Comet: Citizen Va’aiga has got that half arm choke in, but that’s not the real problem for Deathwish Danny. This is the set up for the Va’aiga Stinger!

 

Duran: STINGER! KILL HIM!

 

*DAN-E! DAN-E! DAN-E!*

 

With Danny Williams trapped and all set up, Va’aiga takes a step backwards and looks to duck his head under a shoulder of his former mentor and rack the man up. Williams however has other ideas. Having the move DAMN well scouted and no desire to join the ranks of the Stinger, Danny waits patiently for when Va’aiga’s arm holding his throat is at it’s straightest and uncorks, spinnng on the balls of his feet and unwinding himself, sending Va’aiga flying across the ring! Va’aiga bounces off the ropes and careers headfirst back into the center of the ring, Danny awaiting. Va’aiga goes low and tries to take Danny off his feet with a trademark rugby tackle, but Williams is expecting this and takes a step forward as Va’aiga ducks, wrapping his arms around the Maori’s forehead and neck, covering his carotid artery!!!

 

Riley: Danny Williams ducks a bullet and avoids the Va’aiga Stinger!

 

Comet: It’s a move you have to counter Riley, otherwise you end up on the injured list and it took Dace F’n Night over a week to recover up to promo cutting fitness. We still haven’t seen Xstasy since HIS Stingering either.

 

Arms locked tight around the Maori’s head, Danny Williams holds on for dear life as Va’aiga tries to straighten up, looking to shift Danny’s feet from the ground and lower the leverage Danny can hold onto, lowering the pressure on his skull with it. Va’aiga gets his back straightened for a fraction of a second, but Danny swings his right leg and connects solidly with the back of Va’aiga’s kneecap! The Maori Badass drops to his knees, stunned by the impact and Danny, instead of being off his feet and clutching on for dear life now has a good height advantage over the kneeling Maori and leans forwards, piling on the pain.

 

Comet: If you can’t pin the Maori Badass…

 

Riley: And let’s not forget that Danny Williams still HASN’T!

 

Comet: Thank you Robert. As I was saying if you can’t pin the Maori Badass, why not knock the big guy out instead. The sleeper may be considered a little “vanilla” by some of the more sneering wrestling fans, but it’s still a lethal move in the right hands.

 

Trapped tight in the sleeper hold, Va’aiga sis forced to scream a…

 

Va’aiga: NO!

 

…of his own as Mark Hebner, doing his job again, asks the Maori if he wants to give up and concede the match to Williams’ sleeper. Williams himself is busy squeezing the life out of Va’aiga’s skull and his massive steroid enhanced arms are doing a fine job of slowly cutting the blood flow to the Maori Badass’ brain. Contrary to popular belief, the Maori Badass DOES need to use his brain and he tries again to fight free, flailing his arms wildly and working himself enough room to slide up a leg and plant his foot on the floor, taking himself up to one knee.

 

*DAN-E! DAN-E! DAN-E!*

 

Duran: C’mon Va’aiga! World title! World title!

 

Comet: I think Va’aiga is improving his position, but he’s still trapped fast in that sleeper hold. He’s got to be feeling weakened as his blood flow MUST be being cut down by Danny’s grip.

 

Riley: Duran at ringside is offering the best motivation you can get. If Va’aiga keeps focusing on the prize he should be able to draw the energy to break loose.

 

From his position down on one knee, Va’aiga begins to slowly slide his trailing leg into his body. Williams holds on tight for the ride, silently screaming to draw as much energy out as possible, focusing all his attention on the entangled head of the Maori Badass. Va’aiga FINALLY gets his foot tucked under and begins to stand slowly, but even as Va’aiga lifts Danny Williams off from the mat, Williams’ hold will NOT be broken, and he wraps his legs round the Maori’s waist to make sure he can keep his sleeper hold locked in, even without his feet on the mat.

 

*DAN-E! DAN-E! DAN-E*

 

Riley: I have to say, this crowd is STOKED tonight, Comet.

 

Comet: Well it’s the Clustermess, and thought it’s not Genesis it IS certainly one of the biggest events on the wrestling calendar, and even after the FANTASTIC match the battle royale proved to be, this crowd still want more.

 

With legs wrapped round his waist and arms wrapped round his head, even in a position of some control the Maori Badass is taking damage from Deathwish Danny. Va’aiga turns in the ring and lines Danny up with the corner post, charging backwards into the ring post and Slamming Danny’s back against it. Despite the vicious damge inflicted on Danny’s spine somehow, someway Danny keeps hold and doesn’t let Va’aiga go free! Va’aiga groans in pain as Mark Hebner checks him again, and this time gets a slightly weaker…

 

Va’aiga: No.

 

Comet: Is Va’aiga fading, Robert? Could this be the end of the Maori Badass in this match?

 

Riley: Well is DANNY going to survive if Va’aiga does break loose? Both men are taking a hellacious beating.

 

Comet: Hellacious but controlled. Va’aiga has probably wrecked Danny’s lower back with all the constant pressure he’s been applying and Danny’s sleeper may make the haze drop a little faster for the Maori on top of the cloudyness that Danny’s head hunting must have brought on.

 

Another check from Mark Hebner brings another shake of the head from the Maori Badass, but every movement seems less dramatic, less forced. Slowly lining himself up with the corner again, the Maori looks to slam Danny’s back for a second time and Williams looks unwilling to let Va’aiga loose, even if it might cause a little more pain to himself. Va’aiga charges backwards at the turnbuckle again, but looks can be deceiving as Danny drops free of the hold as Va’aiga builds up a head of steam and rolls away, watching Va’aiga thud back first into the turnbuckles! Danny Williams hops up to his feet and stalks the stumbling Maori…

 

*YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAH*

 

Duran: Watch yourself!

 

…but Duran’s words go unheard as Va’aiga stumbles into Danny Williams’ back waistlock! Williams grunts and scrunches his face up, showing every sign of extreme exertion as he throws the massive Maori over his head, dropping Va’aiga HARD on his upper back and neck with the patented Danny Williams DAAAAAAANGEROUS GEEEERMAN SUUUUUUUUPLEXAAAAAAAAH

 

*LET’S GO DAN-E! clap clap clapclapclap*

 

Comet: DANGEROUS GERMAN! That landing had to hurt the Maori in ways mere mortals couldn’t even dream of.

 

Riley: Neither of the two men in the ring are mere mortals, Comet. And they show

that as often as possible. Having said that, Danny likes to drop people on their heads with that move and Va’aiga is just too tall to get hit from that position.

 

Clapping along with the crowd, Dace Night leads the pro Deathwish chant that fills the arena with a wall of noise. Danny Williams, still clutching his back, extends the point of his knee out and drives it straight into the heart of Va’aiga, adding a little exclamation point as he drops down to the mat and covers. Mark Hebner scoots quickly into position and slaps his hand on the mat…

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THR…

 

*TWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!*

 

Comet: A close call for the Maori there. If his head had cleared from the Sleeper Hold, which I doubt, he has to be seeing the haze drop now.

 

Riley: The problem for Danny is the blurry haze of defeat and the “red mist” are often one and the same thing where Va’aiga is concerned.

 

Picking the Maori up off the mat with one arm, Danny Williams wraps that self same arm round the back of the Maori’s head, holding him in position for a precisely aimed elbow strike, Deathwish’s elbow again smashing powerfully into the cheekbone of the Maori. There’s a DISTURBING snapping sound, and Va’aiga reels away in pain. A close up from the camera reveals a small trickle of blood dripping from the edge of the Maori’s mouth and rolling down his cheek. With a dazed look in his eyes, Mark Hebner takes Va’aiga to one side and looks into his eyes, but as he’s not entitled to stop the match, he simply asks the Maori if he wants to give up, and Va’aiga responds with a shake of his head again. Hebner signals for the pair to fight on.

 

Duran: You ok man?

 

Comet: I think there’s some concern from the Unnamed corner. That strike looked vicious.

 

Riley: It’s not what it LOOKED like that’s the problem. It’s what it sounded like. I swear I heard something either dislocate or break.

 

Comet: Is Va’aiga right to fight on?

 

Riley: No. Va’aiga is an idiot.

 

Sportingly Danny Williams allows Va’aiga to reset his position before continuing his assault. Va’aiga’s eyes are half glazed over, but he grimaces in pain as Danny rocks him with A SECOND ELBOW RIGHT WHERE THE LAST ONE HIT. Va’aiga grabs for his jaw, and with a blocking arm out of action Danny has plenty of space to dive in and grab a headlock, working Va’aiga down into a front chancery. Williams slings an arm of Va’aiga over his own back and lifts the Maori up, holding Va’aiga vertical for a few seconds and letting all the blood rush to Va’aiga’s head before DROPPING THE MAORI STRAIGHT FUCKING DOWNWARDS ONTO HIS SKULL WITH A BRRRRRRAIIIIIIIIINBUUUUUUUUUUUSTAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!

 

*HO LEE SHIT! HO LEE SHIT!*

 

Riley: OH MY GOD! Danny Williams just dropped the Maori onto his shaven skull!

 

Comet: What on earth is the Maori’s response going to be to that??

 

The Cyclone Comet’s question is answered quickly as Va’aiga rises, zombie like from the mat and sits up, his eyes glazed over. Danny Williams makes a dive across the amt and pins Va’aiga’s shoulders down, grabbing for one of the Maori’s legs and pinning him solidly to the mat. Again Mark Hebner drops and the crowd chants along…

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THR…

 

*TWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!*

 

Comet: Good grief. I think Va’aiga is acting on instincts alone here, because I have NO idea how he managed to kick out of that brain buster.

 

Grabbing again at the arm of Va’aiga, Danny Williams drags the Maori bad up to his feet, straining with the effort of shifting what is now over 300lbs of dead weight. Williams wrenches again and sends Va’aiga into the ropes again before charging the ropes on the opposite side of the ring. Danny extends his elbow out again, looking to hit his deadly running version of that favored strike of his, but as much as Danny had Va’aiga scouted earlier, the Maori Badass knows damn well what’s coming his way and ducks underneath and to a side, and both men scream past each other at top speed. Va’aiga hits the ropes first, Danny a half second later. As the pair head towards the center of the ring again, Deathwish Danny extends his elbow out again, but this time Va’aiga telescopes out a tattooed arm and as Danny connects with Va’aiga, Va’aiga connects with the EVIL, NASTY, VICIOUS, VENOM LACED, BITTER TASTE, LAY AAAAAALLL YOU MOTHERFUCKERS TO WASTE LAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRIIIIIIIIAAAAAAAAAAAAATOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

O!.

 

Riley: THE LARIAT! THE LARIAT! THE LARIAT!

 

Dace night beings rhythmically slapping the mat as Mark Hebner puts on a double count out. Both Va’aiga and Danny Williams lie sparked out on the mat, both doing their best impersonations of starfish.

 

Hebner: ONE!

 

Comet: Danny Williams takes the Lariat. Va’aiga takes the running elbow smash.

 

Hebner: TWO!

 

Comet: Both men are lying on the canvas and given the brutality of this match so far, I’m not sure either man could stand up.

 

Hebner: THREE!

 

Riley: That lariat has wiped out some of the highest caliber opposition in this great federation.

 

Hebner: FOUR!

 

Comet: Yeah but so has that running elbow smash.

 

Hebner: FIVE!

 

Riley: This is the same problem Danny Williams had with his deadliest SWF rival Taylor Nicholas Thompson.

 

Hebner: SIX!

 

Riley: Lariats flying one way, elbows the other. It’s chaos, it’s pain and it’s GREAT FUN TO WATCH!

 

Hebner: SEVEN!

 

*DAN-E! DAN-E! DAN-E!*

 

Hebner: EIGHT!

 

Duran: Get up, damnit. Get your ass up!

 

Hebner: NINE!

 

Dace: C’mon Danny! The match is yours!

 

Hebner: TEEE….

 

*NIIIIIIIIIIIIINE!*

 

Riley; Intelligent crowd!

 

As one the pair stagger up to their feet, both looking dazed and confused. Danny dives at Va’aiga, throwing as lose forearm shot, but this time Va’aiga ducks through and places an arm solidly around the neck and shoulder of Deathwish Danny. The Maori Badass grunts as he reaches down and slides an arm between the legs of his opponent, before falling backwards and dropping Danny backwards onto the mat with a modified Exploder! Pain courses through Danny Williams’ body as he writhes on the mat, and Va’aiga has to adjust position to trap the squirming Williams on the mat. The Maori hooks a leg…

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TH… and Danny Williams lifts a shoulder.

 

*TWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO*

 

Comet: That was a close call for Citizen Williams.

 

Riley: I’m not sure HOW Danny Williams kicked out, but he did!

 

The Maori Badass emits a DAMN loud expletive and drags Danny Williams up to a kneeling position by his god damn hair. Throwing a pair of quick left jabs into Danny’s jaw area, Va’aiga keeps the offense flowing and the stunned Williams has no chance to counter the Maori’s relentless assault. Va’aiga takes his time lifting Danny Williams up to a vertical base, and the near 320 lb superstar drifts behind the World Champion and grabs a firm back waistlock. A show of Dace Night wincing accompanies the move as Va’aiga falls back and drives Danny Williams back first into the mat with a GERMAN SUPLEX! The Maori Badass holds on to the waistlock and slowly stands again, dragging the unfortunate Williams with him.

 

Comet: Va’aiga hits the German Suplex, probably going for the Dragon Combination.

 

With Danny Williams firmly trapped in his waistlock, Va’aiga has time to glare derisively at his former regular tag team partner, the man he shared the tag titles with... Dace F’n Night. Seeing the look of concern that crosses Dace’s face, Va’aiga has time to mould his expression into a smile laced with pure evil as the Maori falls back again, again German Suplexing the trapped Williams down hard, the Deathwish One’s back bouncing off the mat, but not too high as the Maori Badass holds him tight in the waistlock again, and again slowly stands, dragging the near limp body of Williams off the mat.

 

Riley: That’s the second German. Here comes the pain!

 

Slowly adjusting Williams in the hold, Va’aiga repositions his arms, cupping them behind Williams’ neck, trapping his nemesis in a tight full nelson! The Maori looks to lift Danny and drive him down into the canvas for a third time in a row, but Danny lifts a leg and slides it between Va’aiga’s, preventing the lethal Suplex form being thrown with a solid block. Va’aiga tries for a second time and again, nada. Williams just WILL NOT BUDGE, and he stomps his foot on Va’aiga’s making the Maori loosen the hold with this desperation maneuver. Williams angles his elbow and somehow gets enough room to blast Va’aiga and in a lucky and possibly unintentional strike, catches Va’aiga on the cheekbone again. The Maori reels away in pain, clutching the side of his face as Danny backs off and pumps his clenched fists, Kobashi style!

 

Comet: This is it! Danny Williams is getting his second wind!

 

As the Maori turns slowly, still clutching at his jaw his head bowed in pain, Danny Williams POUNCES and locks in a quick front chancery. In his corner Dace Night smiles his approval, his malice towards his former tag partner showing on his face! Danny grabs first the right, then the left arm of the Maori Badass and underhooks both of them, setting the Maori up in the butterfly position.

 

Riley: He’s not going to… is he?

 

*DAN-E! DAN-E! DAN-E!*

 

Struggling and stressing, Va’aiga half breaks free of the hold, but Danny drops the point of his elbow down into the nape of the Maori’s neck and Williams quickly re-hooks the escaping left arm of his rival stable leader. Gritting his teeth Danny strains but somehow summons the energy to lift Va’aiga off the mat, dropping him down at a 45 degree angle!

 

Comet: DEFENSTRATION! VA’AIGA HAS JUST BEEN SPIKED WITH DACE NIGHT’S FINISHING MANEUVER!

 

Instinctively Danny Williams flips Va’aiga over and holds him there, trapping Va’aiga’s shoulders to the mat with his legs. Mark Hebner has to count again, and scoots into position with customary efficiency…

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

 

 

THR…

 

*TWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!*

 

…and Va’aiga powers loose, rolling Williams onto his back. Fired up by his own second wind and driven by hatred, the Maori Badass grabs for Williams before Deathwish has had time to compose himself. Va’aiga grabs Williams by the arm and as the Badass lifts the World Champ up, Va’aiga sticks his head under the armpit of his opponent and lifts him up into a TORTURE RACK! Danny Williams’ face scrunches up into a ball of pure unbridled agony, but the worst is yet to come as Va’aiga swings Danny’s legs out and drops to the canvas, grabbing a firm hold of Williams’ neck as he sits out, cracking Danny’s neck with a vicious neckbreaker type maneuver!

 

Riley: BLUNT FORCE TRAUMA! BLUNT FORCE TRAUMA!

 

Duran: PIN HIM!

 

…but Va’aiga has no chance to go for a pinfall as before the Maori has a chance to think Danny Williams POPS STRAIGHT BACK UP FROM THE MOVE! Williams grabs for the Maori and slings him over his shoulder, sitting out to a side and Dropping Va’aiga’s head and back into the mat…

 

Comet: ADF II! ADF II!

 

…and this time VA’AIGA POPS BACK UP! Va’aiga grabs Danny off the mat and slams him into a standing head scissors, jacking him up quickly and smashing him down into the mat with a Powerbomb!

 

Riley: OLD SCHOOL POWERBOMB!

 

Va’aiga dives for a cover but Danny rolls away and both men just lie there on the mat for a brief few seconds. Dace leads the crowd chant as Duran looks on despariningly…

 

*DAN-E! DAN-E! DAN-E!*

 

Dace: DANNY! DANNY!

 

Both men scramble their way to their feet. Va’aiga throws a punch which Danny JUST TAKES ON THE CHIN LIKE A REAL MAN! Danny throws an elbow that Va’aiga JUST TAKES ON THE CHIN LIKE A REAL MAORI! Danny fires an knee into the sternum of the Maori bending him double, but as he goes for a standing head scissors, setting up his own Powerbomb, Va’aiga grabs a gutwrench and lifts the bending over Danny up, holding Deathwish across his chest! The crowd draws breath but Danny Williams dodges a Maori Drop shaped bullet, grabbing hold of Va’aiga’s arm and freeing himself, dropping carefully to the mat and absorbing the majority of the impact on his knees. Danny drags for the arm, looking again for a whip, maybe going for another elbow smash with both men running but Va’aiga holds on and drags Danny’s arm back across his throat. The Maori Badass ducks behind Danny and lifts him up into a torture rack, still keeping the half goku-raku locked in, and all the air is sucked out of the arena as the crowd realize what’s about to happen.

 

Va’aiga’s face is crunched into a scowl as he adds a little extra pain, working the torture rack on Danny’s already wrecked back.

 

Danny Williams looks GONE, his back wrenched every which way in the hold, the air being drained from his lungs by the legal half choke.

 

Dace Night’s face is frozen as he relives the moment when this, the most devastating move in the Maori’s arsenal happened to him, leaving him unable to wrestle for a good week and a half afterwards, an amazing feat for such a tough bastard as the High Priest of Horrorcore.

 

John Duran smiles, having seen the move before and being satisfied there is little more Danny can do to escape the predicament.

 

The camera pans across the crowd, watching shocked and stunned faces, hearing little noise as from near seven foot up…

 

Va’aiga

 

 

 

Drops

 

 

 

Danny

 

 

 

On

 

 

 

His

 

 

 

Mother

 

 

 

Fucking

 

 

 

Skull.

 

 

 

Riley: THE VA’AIGA STINGER! THE VA’AIGA STINGER!

 

 

Va’aiga lays on the mat gasping for breath and lazily drapes an arm over the semi conscious Williams. Mark Hebner drops again to count, slapping his arm slowly down on the mat…

 

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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

 

John Duran leaps into the ring, grabbing Va’aiga and thrusting the semi conscious Maori’s arm in the air. Duran barks out an order as Funyon throws the world title belt into the ring for the Maori Badass to catch.

 

*BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO*

 

Funyon: Your winner and the NEW HEEEEEEEEEEEEAVYWEIIIIIIIIGHT CHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAMPION OF THE WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORLD… VAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA’AAAAAAAAAIGAAAAAAAAA TUUUUUUUUUU’IIIIIIIPOLOTUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU

 

Duran looks down at Williams, but Va’aiga gives a stern look and shakes his head. Dace Night waits outside the ring, watching the two members of the Unnamed carefully as Va’aiga picks up Danny off the mat and… gives him a big Maori handshake! Va’aiga tops that with a respect laden hug and the Maori, much to the disgust of Duran, raises Danny Williams’ hand.

 

*YEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!*

 

*DAN-E! DAN-E! DAN-E!*

 

And as the pumping bass beat to “What’s My Name” fills the arena, the Cyclone Comet adds a footnote to this great night of SWF action.

 

Comet: Citizens, through hell, high water and head dropping Va’aiga Tu’ipolotu, The Maori Badass has become World Heavyweight Champion. With the winner of that AMAZING Clusterfreak earlier in the show to deal with, the future is uncertain for the Maori, but tonight above any other Va’aiga can bask in the glory of a hard fought victory. For Bobby Riley this is the Cyclone Comet wishing you all a good night.

[Guest Suicide King]

Wow. A rather impressive show with some career-defining performances from surprising people. And everyone please keep an eye out for a VERY important announcement regarding the fed that will immediately follow the posting of the card tonight.

 

Some serious kudoes need to be handed out here tonight people, and I want to see them.

Edited February 3, 2004 by Suicide King