SWF Storm

Thoth · August 7, 2004

A Storm is brewing.

FIVE!

FOUR!

THREE!

TWO!

ONE...

Thunderbirds are shite...

THE SWF IS GO!

*BOOOM!! BOOOM!! BANG! BANG! BANG! BU-BU-BU-BOOOOOOM!!*

“Citizens, welcome to Denver, and welcome to STOOOORRRRRRRMMMMM!” Cyclone Comet’s voice booms out over the generic rock music that greets TV viewers as the pyros go off. “Cyclone Comet and Bobby Riley calling the action, and in the aftermath of Ground Zero boy-oh-boy do we have a show for you tonight that would tickle Zeus’ toes on the summit of Mount Olympus!”

“Oh indeed we do!” Bobby Riley agrees with unusual enthusiasm. “Tonight we see the return of ‘The Notorious’ John Duran as he faces off against - and destroys - ‘Grand Slam’ Mark Stevens! I can’t wait!”

“Pshaw!” Comet snorts. “I think you’ll find our former Commissioner has a lot left in the tank, Bobbo!”

“Yeah, Mainly pies,” Riley replies scornfully. “But Sunday night saw massive upheaval in the SWF as we crowned a new Hardcore Champion when Sean Davis beat Martin Hunt; a more-then-welcome return to the ICTV Title for Landon Maddix; Todd Cortez took his rightful place as tag champion, supplanting that masked freak; and biggest of all - we have a new World Heavyweight Champion!”

“Almost as momentous,” Comet chips in, sounding annoyed at Riley stealing his thunder, “is the news that the previous champion has left the SWF! Yes Citizens; Janus is gone, and this caped crusader can only cheer!”

“Well you certainly can’t call matches.”

But the Dynamic Duo’s bickering is interrupted as the lights blaze, the Smarktron abruptly goes all-white and a chord crashes out over the arena. The fans and announcers as one look up at the entrance way in confusion... then the underlying bassline comes through and it resolves into ‘Rookie’ by Boy Sets Fire. The Smarktron shifts down from white to black, and as it hits the bottom end of the spectrum jagged white letters flash one word at a time up on the screen, spelling out a phrase that has become all too familiar over the last seven months...

‘PREPARE TO BE PROVED WRONG...’

The booing is instant and massive when the fans realise what’s going down, but as the spiky guitar kicks in the black screen changes slightly, some sheen and contrast becoming visible... and then it resolves into a head with spiky black hair that raises to stare into the camera. Two piercing grey eyes look out at the crowd, the trademark lopsided grin creases up the right side of his face... and the crowd get even louder.

“TOXX-IC SUCKS!”

The screen changes and clips of Toxxic’s matches are shown; hitting the Glass Jawbreaker on Aecas, highlights of the infamous Philadelphia All-Show Brawl with Insane Luchador and dropping Nathaniel Kibagami on his head with the Caffeine Bomb, with pride of place given to the Straight-Edge Sensation arcing backwards over Tom Flesher’s head to score the Super Intoxxication that won him the World Heavyweight Title on Sunday. The bass drum starts pounding, and on every second beat the words ‘Straight-Edge Sensation’ and ‘Revolution Zero’ flash up alternately between the match clips. The volume of the song rises, and the last four bass drum beats are mirrored by explosions of red pyro climbing the entrance ramp...

*BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM-BOOOOM!!*

...before the final, massive eruption on the sound stage that announces the arrival of the SWF’s premier straight-edger! The smoke billows for a second before it drifts aside and Toxxic is revealed grinning out at the crowd, his girlfriend Jet by his side and the SWF World Heavyweight Title around his waist.

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

“Well, someone’s got a new entrance,” Riley comments as the young couple start down the ramp while Denver screams its hatred at them.

“Appallingly showy as well,” says Comet, a man who wears spandex for each and every broadcast.

“But I like the choice of music,” Riley observes. “It’s not my style, but just think Comet; every time he comes to the ring his opponent will be reminded what an outstanding ‘Rookie’ year he had!”

“Robert, you’re read that off a card! Is that Toxxic’s handwriting?”

The Straight-Edge Sensation and Jet reach the ring and Toxxic rolls under the bottom rope before standing stock still in the dead centre of the ring... then as the opening verse comes up he throws his arms wide, palms flat, and yet more red pyro erupts from the top of each turnbuckle!

*bap-bap*

*BOOOM!!*

‘I never thought this could be me

I guess you never do until it’s happening to you

Like all the fun turns into shame

And all the ‘could-have-beens’ rearrange...’

Toxxic grins a little wider and unbuckles the World Heavyweight Title before handing it to Jet and beckoning to Funyon for a microphone. The announcer complies and Toxxic strides back to the centre of the ring as the boos and chants continue to rain down.

“TOXX-IC SUCKS!”

The straight-edger looks down at the canvas for a few moments, as if deep in thought, then looks up and stares straight into the camera.

“You know, over the last seven months people have asked me why I’m doing this. They’ve asked me why I drove myself so hard, why I went into matches I knew would hurt me and why I checked myself out of hospital before the doctors said I should. They wanted to know why I pissed so many people off. They’d say things like ‘are you trying to prove something?’. Well, I’d like to give those people an answer. C’mere Boz,” Toxxic continues, motioning to the nearest cameraman to approach him. Boz, the cameraman of the Philly All-Show Brawl, climbs carefully into the ring and zooms in on the Straight-Edge Sensation.

“OK,” Toxxic says, staring at the lens that is fixed on his face. “I want you to all pay very close attention to this, as it involves interpreting a simple hand signal.” The rookie steps back... and raises the first two black-nailed fingers of his left hand in the classic British v-sign.

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

“You see this?” Toxxic demands, motioning to the belt that Jet holds. “This is what I did it all for! This is the SWF World Heavyweight Title, the most prestigious award in this industry! This belt says that I am the best damn wrestler alive on this planet... so in answer to your questions, I’m not trying to prove anything...” Toxxic takes a deep breath. “...I just have proved everything!”

“TOXX-IC SUCKS!”

“But I don’t want to be an ungracious champion,” Toxxic continues, slapping Boz on the shoulder to signal that he’s done with him. “So in the best traditions of former champions I’d like to say thank you.”

“You see Comet,” Riley exclaims, “what an ambassador for our sport! Why, although I’d prefer Tom Flesher I’m actually not that bothered that he’s champion!”

“I’d like to say thank you to many people,” Toxxic states, counting them off on the fingers of his left hand. “I’d like to say thank you to the people who trained me. I’d like to thank all the guys on the British circuit who didn’t cry too much when I beat them night after night and got noticed by the SWF as a result. I’d like to thank the undercard of the SWF, since without them to trounce my rise to the top would have taken a lot longer. I’d like to thank Aecas for showing me that no matter how big the obstacle, it can be overcome... with enough light tubes.”

“This is so beautiful,” Riley sniffles with tears in his eyes. “I’m choking up, Comet!”

“Remove the word ‘up’ from that sentence and I’d be saying a few thank-you’s of my own,” the superhero mutters uncharitably.

“I’d like to thank Jimmy ‘The Demon’ Liston for teaching me that you should always be very, very careful who you pick to watch your back. I’d like to thank Nathaniel Kibagami for teaching me - and the rest of the federation - what I can do when provoked. And I’d like to thank you all,” Toxxic finishes, making a sweeping gesture that takes in the entire crowd. “I’d like to thank the fans.”

“...did he just say what I thought he did?” Comet asks incredulously.

“I’d like to thank you,” the Brit continues, “since it is your small-minded, set-in-your-ways attitudes that have fuelled me throughout this.”

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

“It was your stubborn refusal to believe in me; your hypocritical delight in cheering rule-breakers of the past who have redesigned themselves as the flavour of the week; your passion for sadism and violence as long as it is being dished out by those you view as worthy!” Toxxic spits as Denver rises in derision. “You gave me the sheer determination to prove you all wrong, because you make me bloody sick!”

“TOXX-IC SUCKS!”

“So with that in mind,” Toxxic continues, “I’d like to take this opportunity to thank the only people who have really helped me along. My girlfriend, Jet” here the straight-edger pauses to hug the dreadlocked beauty with one arm “and the rest of the newest group on the ascendancy in the SWF... REVOLUTION ZERO!”

The Straight-Edge Sensation gestures to the entrance ramp as every light in the arena whites out. All attention turns to the Smarktron, which is itself a pure, dazzling white. A faint sound becomes audible over the arena PA system... that of a needle on a vinyl record, making no other noise as yet. For a few seconds nothing more happens, then-

“WEL-WEL-W-W-WELCOME TO THE REVOLUTION!”

The crashing guitars of ’Battle Ready’ by Otep kick up the moment the scratching finishes and in the same moment the stage seems to explode as lightning spears down from above...

*BOOOM!*

-setting off an eruption of red and white pyros that manage to deafen the nearby fans and send yet more smoke into the air of the arena! Out from the back stride three figures; the big, heavily muscled shape of Sean Davis, the SWF Hardcore Gamer’s Championship fastened around his waist; the slimmer, bespectacled figure of his PA Marcus Washington; and the blonde-haired ‘Hollywood’ Spike Jenkins who looks uncharacteristically grim tonight. The trio make their way down the ramp as the Denver crowd express their disapproval - Davis and Washington seem unbothered and take their time to bask in the attention, but Spike simply reaches the ring and climbs in with no further fuss. Toxxic slaps Spike on the shoulder as he passes but the ex-SJLer hardly acknowledges him. The Straight-Edge Sensation exchanges handshakes with Davis and Washington, then passes the mic to the Perfect Storm.

“YOU ALL SUCK!”

“Shut up,” Davis says without much rancour as the Denver crowd continues to chant abuse. “I’m not the type of man to run my mouth and talk trash, so I’ll keep this short; we are Revolution Zero, and like it or not, we’re here to stay. I am Hardcore Gamer’s Champion, just as Toxxic was. Spike was Cruiserweight Champion, and will be again. Those tag titles ain’t safe either, and just in case you forgot - we got the World Heavyweight Champion as well.” This big man glares around at the crowd with such force that some people sit back in their seats as he turns, although the moment his eyes leave them they spring back up again and start chanting with renewed enthusiasm.

“As long as you people don’t forget who you’re dealing with, we won’t have any problems. But if you, or any one of those losers backstage forgets it... well,” Sean smiles grimly, “you can’t stop the Revolution.”

“BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

“These egotistical villains make me sick to my stomach!” Cyclone Comet declares. “Someone needs to get out here and put them in their place!”

If Cyclone Comet was Aladdin, industriously rubbing his magic lamp, then the SWF production crew are the genie voiced by Robin Williams. Because no sooner has the superhero uttered those fateful words then-

*BAM!*

-bursts of white pyro light the ramp and the thunderous blast beats and shredding guitar harmonies of Nightrage’s ‘Hero’ steams out of the arena speakers! The Smarktron’s black glass screen shatters into shards and is replaced with red-filtered images of the Number One Contender dropping people on their heads... and Dace Night storms out from the backstage area, heading down to the ring!

“Business is about to pick up!” Comet yells in delight. “Dace Night is well known to all three active members of Revolution Zero, and he is first in line for a shot at Toxxic’s title!”

“Tom should have the first shot!” Riley protests. “That’s only common sense, and the Flesher-per-minute ratings agree!”

The crowd don’t, however; massed chants of “DACE-DACE-DACE-DACE!” echo around the arena as the White Night climbs up onto the apron and steps through the ropes, throwing the horns at the Denver fans in attendance. Without hesitation Dace snatches the microphone from Sean Davis, who steps forward to retaliate... but is halted by a black-nailed hand being placed on his chest. Toxxic looks up at the big man to make sure that he will stand his ground, then beckons to a member of the ring crew to throw him another microphone. The tech does so, and Dace Night and Toxxic stand facing each other.

“LET’S GO DA-ACE!”

“Well, well such big words,” Dace begins. “From such a wannabe-Wildhearts-loving, never-seen-the-Pistols-or-the-Clash-live, probably Avril-fancying little twat!”

Toxxic raises his eyebrows at the last one.

“You stand there with your girlfriend holding that belt, and you talk about it meaning you’re the best wrestler on the planet,” Dace continues as the chants rise around them. “You don’t know shit boy! You’re an egotistical little wanker who’s made a career out of getting lucky and facing people when they’re not at their best, then claming full credit. Well when it’s you and me for that belt” Dace jabs a finger at the title in Jet’s hands “you won’t get lucky, because I’m gonna grind you into the mat!”

Toxxic looks over his shoulder at the World Title belt, then back at Dace. And then he slowly cracks his neck from one side to the other before raising the mic to his lips.

“Y’know Dace, this brings back a lot of memories,” the Straight-Edge Sensation begins. “Like when we faced off for the ICTV Title that time. You’d just called me a little bitch on the show before, and then I pinned you.” The lopsided grin flashes briefly at the memory. “Some things have changed, some things have stayed the same. Once more, I’m the defending champion. Once more, I’m defending against you. But this time, we’re not talking about the ICTV Title, we’ve raised the stakes and we’re playing for the World Heavyweight Championship. This time, instead of me being the underdog I’d say we’re going in with no real clear favourite. And this time, it’s me with the stable backing me up.” Toxxic moves a step closer to Dace, who doesn’t budge.

“And that says a lot about you, Dace. You’re a brave man to come out here and say that shit to my face when you’re in the ring with three active wrestlers, not to mention one in training.”

“I’m not scared of any of you or your little gang. There are worse things than having to face big odds.” Dace responds.

“Well yeah, you’ve beaten Spike and Sean before,” Toxxic acknowledges, “and please don’t think Sean’s forgotten about that, by the way. But no, I wouldn’t stoop to a mass beatdown; you know how I play, and we can keep this between us, in the ring.”

“Is that what you told Tom Flesher?” Dace asks the rookie, whose grin suddenly fades.

“Tom was a... shall we say, a special case?” he says. “If you screw around with me and use my own moves on me, you’re going to piss me off. And just in case you were thinking of trying that, Dace, no matter how much respect I have for that belt and the person carrying it, I will personally see you end up face-down in an alley somewhere.” The grin returns slightly. “Not that I expect the threat worries you, but at least I’ve warned you.” The Straight-Edge Sensation turns and takes the World Title from Jet, then drapes it over his shoulder and turns back to Dace.

“You’ve had three shots at beating me, Dace - single, tag and six-man tag - and you’ve never once managed to end up on the winning side,” Toxxic states. “It makes me wonder... and if you’ve got any sense, it’ll make you wonder as well.”

Dace stares at the straight-edger, but Toxxic’s face is giving nothing away. “Wonder what?”

“I said earlier why I do what I do,” Toxxic tells him, “but I think you need to consider why you do it. Think about it, Dace; in the time I’ve been here, I’ve done everything you’ve wanted to do. I won the ICTV title - twice, no less, when you could never recapture it after your first reign. I’m leading a stable in its ascendancy when yours self-destructed and scattered. I beat Tom Flesher - oh sure, you managed it a couple of times, but you couldn’t do it when it counted. I beat him on the run-up to the PPV. You think that gave me a psychological advantage in the main event? I think it might’ve done. If you’d beaten him at 13th Hour it would’ve been you in there with me and Janus, and who knows what might have happened then.” The straight-edger moves closer to Dace, who stares back with hatred.

“And then, the main event. You were always saying how me and Flesher only cared for the title, and it was you who were going to take out the monster. Well guess what, Dace - Flesher destroyed Janus’ knee, and I took his title. And no-one has seen the Hell Machine since. We killed the monster, not you. And in the process, I got the one thing you’ve never been able to achieve - the World Heavyweight Title.”

Dace stares around at the Denver crowd. The chanting has broken down into isolated fragments now, but Horrorcore can still hear his name. He turns back to Toxxic with a sneer.

“So Janus is gone, it’s still an end to it. And I can still say I faced him, took these scars,” Dace says, pausing for a moment to touch his face, “and I came back and defeated him back then.”

“FOR FUCK’S SAKE, DACE!” Toxxic explodes, causing the rest of Revolution Zero to jump in shock. “Are you seriously so bloody blind? You’re so caught up in this self-righteous bollocks you’ve completely lost sight of reality!” The straight-edger digs his fingers into his eyes for a second, then refocuses on the Brummie standing in front of him.

“You think you’re a hero. You act like one, you call yourself the ‘White Night’, even your damn entrance music says so. Well, ‘Hero’, listen up; we work the same way. I have never cheated in a match. I have never resorted to a tactic that you wouldn’t use - in fact, I’m pretty sure you’ve used some I wouldn’t. The only difference is that I’m in this for me, and you’re in this for... what? Being a hero? Who for?” Toxxic sweeps his arm around at the Denver crowd.

“For them? They don’t need you, Dace. Haven’t you heard them chanting how I suck? They don’t need you to protect them; they know who they like, what they like and why they like it. They don’t like me, and I don’t give a shit.” The rookie points to the backstage area behind the Smarktron.

“For the fed? We’re all in this business knowing the risks, if people don’t want to end up in the ring with a psycho like Janus they shouldn’t have signed the contract.” Toxxic turns back to the White Night.

“You need to examine your motivation if you are going to have a fucking hope of beating me, sunshine. You’re no hero - you’re a violent, sadistic bastard. You invented ‘Horrorcore’. You would have seriously injured me in our ICTV match if you’d had the chance. You carved words on Tom Flesher’s bloody back... which was funny,” the straight-edger concedes, “but all the same, it was messed up. And let’s not even get into Damnation In A Box,” Toxxic says as Spike’s jaw clenches. The rookie readjusts the World Title belt on his shoulders.

“What I want you to think about Dace, is who you’re doing it for. Who’s really the egotistical one out of you and me? I’m an annoying bastard who pisses people off, and I admit that... but I’m also World Champion. You’re the one going around claiming the moral high ground whilst injuring people, and that strikes me as someone with a seriously maladjusted self-image.” Toxxic leans close to his number one contender.

“Are you doing it for us?” he asks, gesturing around at the rest of Revolution Zero and then backstage to include the rest of the roster.

“Are you doing it for them?” he asks, sweeping his hand around at the Denver crowd.

“...or are you doing it for you?” The black-nailed finger stops short of prodding Dace in his broad chest, but the Brummie Goth stares at it nonetheless. ‘Battle Ready’ kicks up and the rest of Revolution Zero filter past the two wrestlers and start to head up the entrance ramp. Dace and Toxxic simply stand in the ring staring at each other for a few more seconds... and then the Straight-Edge Sensation, adjusts his title one more time and walks past the White Night without glancing at him. Dace turns and watches champion and title walk away from him up the ramp, his expression unreadable.

“What a showdown it will be when those two enter the ring as opponents!” Comet shills. “Citizens; don’t go away, as we have two new SWF superstars debuting after this break!

FADE OUT

Thoth · August 7, 2004

Fade into capacity crowd at the Pepsi Center, including the mandatory signage, both positive (‘WELCOME BACK MARK’) and the negative (‘ACE SPITS, STEVE SWALLOWS’) and the bizarre (‘SPIKE FOR WORLD CHAMP’) greets us as the masked wonder of our dynamic duo screams out over the crowd…

“WELCOME BACK TO S…W…F STOOOOOOOOOOORM!” shouts Cyclone as Bobby covers his ears. “I’m alongside as always Bobby Riley, and I’m CYCLOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONE COMET~!”

“Well, I didn’t really need those eardums,” Riley sighs. “After an absolutely loaded Ground Zero, even if Tom did get screwed out of the World Title, well…we’ve got a couple of newbies.”

“It is true neither Citizen Cross nor Citizen Xavier has competed in the SWF, both men have had very impressive careers in the independents and David did appear in the SJL.”

“For about seven seconds,” replies Riley. “Anyway, looks like Funyon is ready.”

In the ring, the dashing as always Funyon has the mic to his lips. “The following opening match is scheduled for one fall with a thirty minute time limit. Introducing first…”

(Go To) California” by Rob Zombie starts up to a small, first match of the night pop as Nathan Xavier walks out and makes his first appearance in the SWF. Looking very much like Batista of the WWE…very thick and brutish. Xavier is wearing long black and baggy leather pants and a dark blue sleeveless SWF T-shirt. Nathan has short black slightly spiked hair with no sideburns and a short goatee. Alongside him is his wife and manager Sasha Edwards.

Funyon continues, “…weighing 326 pounds, from Santa Clara, California, accompanied by Sasha Edwards…NATHAN XAVVVVVVVVIER!”

“Two powerhouses in the ring to start off Storm tonight,” remarks Comet.

“If you even mention the words slobber knocker or hoss, swear to God Comet I’ll beat you down with this monitor,” replies Riley.

“Don’t worry Robert.”

Nathan gets in the ring and raises his left hand, chain in it as the crowd cheers a bit.

Funyon continues, “and his opponent…”

Cue the creepy beginnng to 'Back on Earth' by OZZY~ as David Cross walks out to the ring, focused on the ring as the crowd gives him a small “we sort of remember you” pop as a small bit of pyro goes of behind him.

“…weighing 277 pounds, from Oil City, Pennsylvania…”THE FALLEN ANGEL” DAAAAAAAAAVID CROSS!”

Cross walks down to the ring, absent mindedly slapping hands as his eyes stay focused on the ring. As he gets in, he gives his jacket and cross to the ringside attendant. The two men go right to the middle of the ring for a staredown…

DING! DING!

..the two heavyweight grapples immediately lock up in a collar and elbow tie-up with neither man gaining much of an advantage. The two break it off, then go right back to another tie-up, this time Xavier quickly gaining the advantage, and slapping on a headlock. Cross pushes him off towards the ropes, sending him toward the far ropes as David flies off the near ropes as both men collide into each other with a double clothesline….to a no noticeable effect on either man!

“Early on, neither man has much of an advantage,” says Cyclone.

“It’ll be whoever can hit the big, high impact moves quicker. Both of these guys are strong as hell, so it’s just a question of when somebody hits the first big move,” replies Riley.

Both men go after each other with Cross ducking a wild left hand, but Nathan then ducks a big boot attempt by Cross, swings him around and brings the former football star crashing to the mat with a back suplex! The Fallen Angel recovers quickly, but immediately gets kicked in the gut by Xavier, then is dropped to the mat again with a swinging neckbreaker!

“Citizen Xavier has taken the very early advantage here, Robert. Will he win his debut match tonight?” asks Comet.

“Do I look like I care?” replies Riley with a smirk. “I’m just waiting for later on for Duran to take out Stevens.”

“Could you at least pay attention to the match, instead of having your delusions about Citizen Stevens being crippled?”

“But they’re such good delusions!” whines a petulant Riley.

Xavier picks up Cross and sends him into the corner with a hard Irish whip, then rushes into a corner with a big clothesline! Then, like a linebacker, Nathan does several hard shoulder thrusts right into the ribs of The Fallen Angel. He then backs up and does a Nash-style boot choke in the corner as the referee does a five count!

“Maybe this Xavier guy isn’t so bad,” muses Riley.

As the count reaches five, Nathan does a clean break as Cross stumbles out of the corner into another quick kick to the gut and a Double Arm DDT!

“Citizen Xavier with another high impact move here and Cross seems to be in a bit of trouble,” exclaims Cyclone as Xavier turns over Cross for the pin…

…ONE…

…TW - KICKOUT!

“Waaaaay too early there dummy,” says Riley. “Cross still has a bit in his tank I’m guessing.”

As Cross gets up, he ducks under a Xavier lariat and locks on Nathan from behind, but Xavier executes a quick go-behind and locks Cross into a half-nelson. However, David fights the suplex being attempted by Xavier, and hits one - two - three elbows to break the hold! Stunned, Nathan is easy prey for Cross to pick him up and drop him to the mat with a fireman’s carry quickly followed up by an elbowdrop!

“Just like that, the tides have turned in this match and Citizen Cross has now regained the advantage.”

“Ah, wake me up when someone actually interesting is on the screen instead of these two oafs.”

Nathan gets up only to be dropped immediately by a Cross jumping bulldog from behind. With the crowd popping, David goes to the corner to await the groggy Xavier to get up. As he does, Cross comes out of the corner with a hard, quick…

“YAAAAAAAAAAAAAZUKA~!” screams Comet as Nathan falls to the ground and Cross makes the cover…

…ONE…

…TWO…

…KICKOUT!

“Damn, can’t these two just quit or something. It’s not like anyone is interested,” says Riley. “Just go back to wrestling in high schools and bingo halls.”

“The thousands here in attendance at the Pepsi Center would disagree with you,” replies Comet. “They are cheering for a clean, hard fought battle.”

“These people also will probably acquit Kobe so their intelligence is suspect.”

Cross pulls Nathan up, and lands a quick kick to the gut, followed quickly by a high knee, but as he tries to finish off things with a crescent kick, Xavier blocks the kick! Nathan then takes The Fallen Angel down to the ground with a sloppy, if not effective takeover suplex! Cross quickly gets up, but is nailed by a huge big boot, followed right after with a standing leg drop to a noglastic pop from the Denver crowd!

“Oh great, stealing moves from Hogan. What’s next, Steve - er, never mind,” says Riley.

“Citizen Nathan is just emulating one of the greatest heroes in the halls of justice, Robert.” replies Comet, blissfully naïve.

Xavier picks up Cross and gets him in position, and drops him directly on his head with a vicious release German Suplex! After a few stomps, Cross is picked up again and is dropped straight to the mat on his back with a Full Nelson Slam! Xavier goes for the pinfall…

…ONE…

…TWO…

…TH - KICKOUT!

After a quick glare at the ref, Nathan pulls Cross right up and lands a few clubbing blows to the back. He then gets him in position and after holding him up for a moment like he’s going for a Urange, he falls right into a…

“…STALLING STO BY CITIZEN XAVIER!” exclaims Cyclone Comet. “That could all she wrote for Citizen Cross!”

“Even I got to say, that was impressive by the big brute,” replies Riley.

“Pinfall by Nathan…”

…ONE…

…TWO…

…THRE - KICKOUT!

“Citizen Cross refuses to give up -” begins Cyclone only to get interrupted by Riley.

“ - unfortunaley for all of us who have an empty glass for water.”

“You do realize those interns are here for a reason. Right, Bobbo?” retorts Comet.

“Well, there was one who had a sweet little mo -”

“ROBERT!”

As Riley gives us way too much information, Cross is sent into the corner, then nailed with a huge avalanche! Cross then stumbles out right into a sloppy, if not big time CHOKE SLAM! However, Nathan doesn’t even try for a pinfall, instead kicking David in the gut and going for some sort of piledriver! But, Cross is not out of it yet…and backdrops Nathan! Stunned and a little groggy, Xavier gets up only to get dropped straight back to the mat with an Arn Anderson style SPINEBUSTER from Cross! Pinfall attempt again…

…ONE…

…TWO…

…THR - KICKOUT!

“The crowd is on their feet for both of these warriors who are making an impression on all the fans here in the SWF here on their opening night!” says Cyclone.

“This is one fan who is no impressed,” replies Riley. “I’d much rather watch a Best of Fleisher tape.”

“Robert, I don’t want to know how you spend your evenings.”

“Hey! I resemble that remark!”

Unencumbered by the kickout, Cross picks up the slightly limp Xavier and drives him right back to the mat with a huge gut wrench suplex! Not even bothering with the pinfall attempt, Cross pulls up Xavier and…

…*THWACK*…

..*THWACK*…

…*THWACK*…

…as Cross fires a series of forearms, forcing Xavier into the corner!

“Citizen Cross is just drilling Xavier with a series of forearms!”

“Bah, Duran or Janus would make him spit out teeth if they nailed him with a few right hands,” replies an unimpressed Riley.

“Robert, what would impress you?”

“This match ending.”

Cross drills Xavier with an elbow, then sends him into the corner! Nathan bounces out of the corner as Cross extends his size 16 boot right into his face! Xavier crashes to the mat as the crowd cheers! Waiting for Xavier to get up, The Fallen Angel plays to the crowd a little raising his fist. Then, as Xavier groggily gets up, the 300 pounder from Cali walks right into David’s waiting right hand. With the choke firmly on, Cross raises Xavier astoundingly high and then just as quickly, sends him back to Earth as the crowd roars…

“CHOKE SLAM!” screams Cyclone Comet in a fit of glee. “The ring just took one heck of an impact and it seems like The Fallen Angel is firmly in control of this match!”

“OK, OK, that was a little impressive.”

…Cross makes the pinfall…

ONE!

TWO!

T

H

R

E

NO!

The crowd comes alive in a pop as the ref holds up two fingers!

“Citizen Xavier somehow got a shoulder up, and this match is continuing,” says Comet. “However, both men seem to be quickly losing energy.”

“Stupid hosses, all blown up,” remarks Riley.

“Says the man who can barely run up the stairs without having a heart attack,” replies Comet.

David just shrugs as he pulls up Xavier who is just stirring, and pulls him straight into a SHORT ARM LARIATO~! As the crowd pops, Cross raises his fist again, then does a throat slitting motion to a big pop!

“Can Citizen Cross get this behemoth of a man up for the Black Mass?”

“Well, Cross isn’t exactly Wildchild, so let’s see Comet.”

Again, Cross gets Xavier into position and tries, but can’t pull Xavier up! As the crowd murmurs, he lands a few more blows to the back but again, no dice! He steps back for a moment to recover, which allows Nathan to get to a vertical base. Cross tries to land a forearm, but Xavier blocks it and lands a quick knee to the gut! The big man from Santa Clara then lands a few clubbing forearms, then drops Cross with a huge FISHERMANBUSTAH~ to a big pop from the crowd as both men are down!

“Just like that, it could be anyone’s match here tonight! Citizen Cross and Xavier are both down and out as the referee makes his count.”

“Please Todd let there be a Double KO.”

…1...

…2...

…3...

…4.…

…5.…

..both men begin to recover, getting up to their knees…

…6...

…7...

Xavier gets to his feet first, rushing an out of it Fallen Angel! He nails the groggy Cross with a flurry of right hands as the crowd cheers on both men. Then, Xavier puts a limp Cross on the top rope and climbs to the second rope himself. He then sends Cross and himself crashing to the mat with a vicious…

“…MUSCLE BUSTER BY CITIZEN XAVIER!” yells Comet as the crowd lets out their largest pop of the match so far. “Here comes the pinfall…”

…ONE…

…TWO…

…T…

…H…

…R…

…E…

…NO!

CROSS GETS A SHOULDER UP!

“CITIZEN CROSS SURVIVES!” says Comet. “Whatever the outcome of this match, both of these men have a fine future in from of them in the SWF!”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” replies Riley. “Call me when they beat someone who will be an actual challenge.”

“Like perhaps Citizen Royal or Maddix?”

“Only in their wildest dreams,” says Riley.

Nathan waits for a moment, playing to the crowd a little as Cross struggles to his feet. As he does, he is met by a stiff right hand by Xavier, then he locks in the Urange again! He then picks up the former football star from Florida and drops him again with the STALLING STO!

“This could be the end for Citizen Cross as he seems to be totally spent.”

“Good, maybe I can grab that leather of his after he stomps out of the federation.”

“Oh, I bet that would end well Robert.”

Not even bothering with the pin, Nathan smiles at his wife and signals to the crowd with by raising his fist high. He pulls up The Fallen Angel and drives a quick boot to the gut, and pulls him across into the Fireman’s Carry position…

“One Heat Stroke coming up,” says Riley as the crowd buzzes.

…but, Cross fights it. As a result, Xavier can’t drop him as Cross flays around like a fish out of water while Nathan tries to keep him held. Then, as the crowd roars, Xavier breaks the hold, swings around and off Nathan’s shoulder and BRINGS HIM DOWN WITH A MASSIVE DDT AS THE RING SHAKES!

“OH MY LORD!” yells Comet! “Citizen Cross just absolutely obliterated both Xavier and himself with that move!”

“Hmm…good thing that the ring is reinforced,” muses Riley. “Otherwise, those guys could’ve hit the concrete floor below the mat.”

Cross gets up first and clears out the cobwebs and simply raises three fingers to the crowd as they pop loudly!

“Could Citizen Cross be going for his Trinity Sequence?”

“That’s actually pretty smart.” says Riley. “He knows that he can’t get the big lug up for the Black Mass, but he can killify him with some suplexes. Whatever gets this match done is fine with me.”

“You’re horrible, Robert.”

“Why? Because I want to see some talented wrestlers in the ring?”

“Um…Bobbo…Jenkins v. James is up next.”

“What? Er, I meant of course let’s go Broadway! Thirty minute draw!”

While Xavier gets up, he is immediately grabbed by Cross into a waistlock and as the Fallen Angel holds up one finger, he is then driven to the mat with a GERMAN SUPLEX!

“That’s one…” says Comet for the blind, dumb, or Ohioan in the audience.

Then, Cross pulls Xavier back to a vertical base and slaps on the full nelson, crunching Xavier’s neck with a huge DRAGON SUPLEX!

“…and two…” continues Cyclone.

As the crowd buzzes and cheers more, Cross pulls Xavier back to a vertical base, crosses the arm and drives him one more time right into the mat with a nasty STRAIGHTJCKET SUPLEX!

“…and there we go! You can call it the Trinity Sequence, Holy Trinity, whatever you want…it’s just dang effective!”

As the crowd pops madly, the ref counts…

…ONE…

…TWO…

…T…

…H…

…R…

…E…

DING! DING! DING!

“Cross wins his debut here in the SWF, but Citizen Xavier has nothing to be ashamed of!”

“Except for well…losing.”

“Back on Earth” hit’s the PA to a pop as Cross raises his arms in victory while Xavier struggles to his feet. After a tense moment, the two big men share a quick handshake before Nathan rolls out of the ring, heading back to the locker room with his wife. Cross goes to the second rope and salutes the fans!

“We’ll be back with much more Storm, including the return to active duty of SWF Legend Mark Stevens! Right after these messages from Frost Brand Chips and Pepsi Max!

Thoth · August 7, 2004

As the lights dim at the Pepsi arena Frisco is seen emerging from behind the curtain and walking towards the ring. He is again accompanied by his forever fashioned challenged “associate” Lobo who looks as confused as ever. As Frisco reaches to the ring Funyon gives him a clear look of disdain. Frisco smiles at him and points to the ropes. Funyon rolls his eyes in disgust and holds them open for Frisco as he enters. Lobo assumes his role outside the ring as Frisco takes to the mike.

“It’s great to be in Denver!” Frisco yells with obvious false enthusiasm. He appears to be waiting to see if that will generate a crowd reaction. It does…

BOOOOO

“What could be the purpose for citizen Frisco to be making an appearance at SWF storm Robert? Candace is not booked here tonight and the crowd obviously has no interest in hearing that dastardly scoundrel!” The Comet states.

“I don’t know why he’s here. I was kind of hoping to have a night without this guy around”

Frisco continues on the mike much to the crowd’s displeasure.

“I have a little surprise you all my fans out here is Raiders nation”

BOOOOOO

Frisco glances over at the clearly miffed Funyon.

“…even you Mr.Fancy pants”

Funyon just shakes his head as he tries to wish Frisco away.

“Allow me to introduce the only undefeated wrestler in the SWF!”

Suddenly the lights dim as David Bowies “China girl” hits. The crowd buzzes with a mixed reaction as Candace makes her way to the ring.

“Look Robert! It’s the SWF’s only undefeated superstar!” The Comet yells with mock enthusiasm.

“Big deal” He replies. “She’s only been in two matches! I’m sure we have a rookie or so who has yet to step into the ring that’s undefeated too”

Lobo is quick to hold open the ropes for Candace as she enters the ring. She seems very focused tonight as she greats Frisco in the center of the ring. She is once again wearing her trade mark playboy bunnie tank top and insanely shirt black leather mini skirt. This time she is wearing tall black stiletto high heels which make her a towering 5 foot six.

Frisco waits for a reaction from the crowd which is pretty quiet this evening. There is some subdued applause and a few “Candace sucks” chants. For the most part the audience is sitting on their hands.

“Tough crowd” Riley mocks.

“It is my pleasure to interview the only undefeated Superstar in the SWF” Frisco yells once again placing emphasis on Candace’s undefeated status.

“Citizen Frisco is quick to point out Candace’s undefeated record.” The Comet starts. “However she has only been in two contests so far. That is hardly a true test”

“No kidding” Riley replies.

“Candace dear everyone knows you’re undefeated in your SWF career thus far. You were able to defeat the Paladin in your first match” Frisco starts.

“The Paladin” Candace says in his most intimidating tone. “He was a typical American. He walked into ring hoping his god would help him win. Thinking his god would only want him to win—because he American and god only love Americans”

BOOOO

“Candace come to ring I don’t rely on any god. I rely on myself. I make Paladin suffer!”

The crowd begins to grow a little disenchanted with Candace’s “typical American” remark.

“What the hell does she mean a typical American?” Riley snorts.

A smile briefly crosses Frisco’s face sensing he’s at least drawn a reaction here.

“Then you had your make against The Spectacle” Mike Von Sicken”

“Another American pretty boy” Candace says as she rolls her pretty Asian eyes in derision. “He comes to ring with long blonde hair and pretty white teeth. He thinks he pretty boy. I make him suffer too” She pauses a moment for emphasis. “I enjoy making American pretty boys suffer”

BOOOOO

“How dare her” Rob Riley roars from his announcing booth with genuine anger in his voice. “I can’t wait for one of the SWF Superstars to absolutely destroy her in the ring!”

“I too would like to see citizen Candace pay for those remarks” Comet concurs..

“Candace dear can you tell us a little about your background in All Japan Pro Wrestling. How would you compare the wrestling in Japan with that in the United States?”

A broad grin flashes over Candace’s face which generates an immediate crowd chant

CANDACE SUCKS CANDACE SUCKS CANDACE SUCKS

“In Japan wrestling is an art. In Mexico it is a tradition. In the United states…It’s a joke!”

BOOOOOOO

Riley takes a long drink from his bottle of water.

“She is certainly pushing the envelope here tonight” he says matter of factly.

“Thank you…” replies the Comet unable to resist the chance. “Captain Obvious”

Riley just grimaces.

“Japan was Inoki. We have Joshi.” She smiles. “I used watch American wrestling. America has David Arquette”

BOOOOOO

Frisco takes the mike and turns to the crowd.

“I’m going to take this opportunity to place a challenge. Anyone who can defeat Candace, who can either get a clean pin fall on her or make her tap, and we will give them $5000”

The crowd cheers in reaction—the first ever cheer For Frisco in SWF history!

“Well that makes me very happy” Riley understates. “Because I’m damn sure they will be paying that bet off and pretty soon”

Frisco makes his way out of the ring, once again commanding Funyon to hold the ring ropes open for him which he does with a look of indignity.

“Citizens Frisco and Candace have made a very bold challenge here tonight” The Comet exclaims. “Will they be able to back up those statements or not is yet to be seen”!

Thoth · August 7, 2004

Earlier that day...

The location: Lobby of a Howard Johnson’s hotel not far from the Pepsi Center in Denver, several hours prior to the start of SWF Storm.

Andrea Montgomery steps up to the front desk and nursing a bad case of jet-lag.

“May I help you?” Inquires the deskman.

“Sure, I’ve got a reservation for a room. Alex Zenon booked it. I’m with the SWF.” Andrea says, exhausted from the flight.

“Let me see...Here we go. Andrea Montgomery I assume, since there aren’t any more listings for the Zenon booking. Yes, room 217.” he says, looking at a register.

“Do you happen to know who’s around me?” Andrea asks, hoping it’s not Toxxic, as his post-Ground Zero celebrations are most likely still going on.

“Uh, in 215 is Austin Sly. 219 has Jebediah Hardcastle...”

“Jebediah?” Andrea asks, finally realizing why he goes by ‘Sexton’. “Sorry, who’s across from me?”

“That would be...The Masked Man? That’s his name?” Queries the desk worker, confused.

Andrea does not answer him. Her eyes have a glazed-over look to them and she gropes blindly for her key card and heads to the elevators.

After a short trip upwards, Andrea steps out of the elevator, a dreamy look still plastered on her face and she reaches her door. After some difficulty with the key card, including a stint with the card upside down, Andrea manages to get inside the room. She drops down onto the bed, sighs happily, and falls backwards, smiling like Cutthroat would upon finding a new scrap of shiny tinfoil.

“He’s here! Right across the hall...”

Andrea quickly rises from the bed and makes for the telephone on the bed side table.

“Hey, front desk? Yeah, this is Andrea Montgomery in room 217. Anyway, Zenon said we have a...six hundred dollar entertainment fee for each stay, so could you send someone out to a hardware store and pick up about forty feet of PVC pipes and some mirrors that will fit in said pipes along with a small flashlight or two? Thanks a bunch. OH! And also an electric jig-saw and an extension cord. Yeah, bye.” Andrea hangs up and does a dance of joy.

To pass the time until her piping arrives, Andrea pulls out the mandatory hotel Bible and thumbs through it, muttering to herself.

“Simpsons did it. Simpsons did that, too. That’s some old school Golden Girls stuff. That was on Family Guy. I think the Dukes of Hazzard did that. Saw that on Futurama a few days ago. 21 Jump Street did that. Just replace ‘Jesus’ with Theo, and you’ve got classic Cosby Show. Spicoli totally did that on Fast Times!” A loud knock on the door breaks her concentration.

KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!

“Who’s there?” Andrea shouts, knowing full well who is on the other side of the door.

“Pipe man!” shouts the hotel employee.

“Pipe man who?” Asks Andrea.

“No, seriously, open the door. This is heavy.” The guy says.

“I don’t get it. That’s a lame joke.” Andrea replies, opening the door and gesturing the guy in.

He sets three boxes down on the bed and holds out his hand, expecting a tip. Andrea obliges, searching in her purse and placing a piece of paper in his hand which reads “I.O.U.” Angry, but knowing full well who this woman is, the hotel employee walks out of the door.

Andrea pulls a chair near the door, plugs in the saw and stands on the chair. She quickly cuts out a circle of ceiling. She peers into it and sees nothing but empty space. Drea grabs a flashlight, turns it on, and looks back into the hole. Seeing clear going, Andrea wriggles into the tight opening and crawls forward, talking to herself.

“Okay, HoJo rooms are all the same, so the bathroom should be in the back. And I didn’t have a window, so his room should be on the side of the building.”

Drea indeed sees a brick wall fast approaching, takes a wild guess and drills a hole the size of a baseball, grabbing the piece of ceiling. Andrea slithers backwards as fast as she can and climbs back out and into her room. She grabs a handful of PVC and a few mirrors and goes back into the hole. Drea crawls to the hole in TMM’s ceiling and fits a piece of piping into it. She slides a mirror in and puts on a ninety degree joint on top. She works backwards, adding pieces of pipe until she reaches her room again, and adds another mirror. Andrea takes a look and seems pleased with a homemade periscope.

“Thank you, countless episodes of MacGuyver.” Andrea says.

She shines a flashlight into the pipe, takes a look at the mirror, and is rewarded (Well, this might not qualify for a reward for some, but that doesn’t matter) with an image of The Masked Man’s bathroom, and the Sexual Maskosaurus himself! There seems to be some steam in the room, and Masked Fury has a towel wrapped around his waist. Aside from his mask (Which he’s wearing because he knows how invasive the cameras of the SWF can be) and towel, TMM is completely nude.

“Come on Masky, move the towel. Move the towel.” Andrea wills with her mind.

Rather than move the towel, Masked Man turns around sharply, as if something has caught his attention. He walks out of the bathroom and then back in again, cellular phone up to his ear. Andrea can barely make out the conversation, but the pipes help a great deal.

“Hello, Masked Man Industries...Oh, Mister Zenon...Yes, I’ll get to the arena immediately...on my way now...Grash jof, va...sorry, I mean, I’ll see you soon, good bye.”

TMM closes the phone, which resembles the phone Zack Morris had on Saved By the Bell, only Zack’s didn’t have ‘Property of Romanian Government’ printed down the side of the phone.

Andrea curses to herself and quickly gathers up her things. She waits for a few minutes in her room, listening for Masked Man to leave his room and head down the elevators. Andrea quickly heads out and scurries down the stairs, arriving in the lobby seconds before Masked Man does. Drea quickly pulls her cell phone out.

“What is it Zenon? Go to the arena? Sure, I’ll be there in a bit.” Andrea says, looking at TMM as she does.

“Ah, Commissioner Zenon requires your presence as well?” the Sexual Maskosaurus inquires.

“Yeah, he does. Uh, if we’re both going, want to split a cab?” Andrea asks, hoping that he says yes.

“Actually, I have my own means of transportation already procured. However, if you would like to make the journey with me, I am sure that such a thing can be accommodated.” TMM says.

“Er, well, I don’t want to interfere with anything. I’ll just take a cab and see you at the arena.” Andrea laughs nervously then quickly heads out the front door and hails down a cab.

Fast forward past an uninteresting cab ride and Andrea arrives at the Pepsi Center and informs the cabbie that she’ll “Smell him later.” Andrea walks up to the entrance and shows the needed credentials to a security guard. Before continuing, though, she pauses to ask a question.

“Say, has The Masked Man come through here?”

“I see a lot of people. Describe him to me.” The guard answers.

“Well, he’s taller than me, and decently built. He was wearing a suit jacket and nice pants.” Andrea says hopefully.

“What about his face? What’s that look like?” the man asks.

“His name is The Masked Man for a reason. That reason is because he wears a mask.” Andrea replies through gritted teeth.

“Oh, that guy. He was weird. Yeah, he went in a few minutes ago.” The security guard says, finally understanding.

Andrea mutters a quick thanks and hurries into the building. Recalling her last problem in trying to find a person in an arena, which is ironically where she caught her first glimpse of The Masked Man, Andrea seeks out a SWF staff member. After several minutes of panicked searching, Andrea manages to spot a staffer.

“Excuse me, but do you know where The Masked Man’s dressing room is? I’ve got something I need to give him.” Andrea says as nonchalantly as possible.

“Let me think...he should be in the mid carder’s cocoon. That’s past Dace Night’s horror chambers, take a left at the straight-edge snack table. Word of advice, avoid that. It’s just crackers and flat soda. Anyway, after the snack table, go past Drazon’s greenhouse and humidor and Petey’s freezer. Take a right at the theme song storage units, all nine of them..”

“Nine? Nine rooms with nothing but theme songs?” Andrea asks incredulously.

“Yes, nine. We never know who might show up, and we’ve got to have theme songs ready.” The staffer replies, upset over being interrupted. “Okay, past the theme songs, take a right at Judge Mental’s sound-proof room where he cries when David Blazenwing beats him in two minutes, another right at the room where we service the Danny Williams bots that job to Dangerous, and you’re at the cocoon.” The staffer says.

Andrea mumbles another thank you and heads off down a hallway, trying to recall all the directions she was just given. Drea doesn’t to have appeared to paid close attention, though, as she stops dead at an intersection.

“Now was it left past Ace Lezaire’s English for Promos class, or Zenon’s Elitist Bastard Music Listening Room?” Andrea wonders aloud, confused. “Wait...she didn’t even mention those two places. It was a right after the Danny-bot repair area.” Andrea says, finally remembering where to go.

Drea heads off in the right direction (Right as in correct and also the direction she turned) and arrives in the heart of the mid-card cocoon. Andrea looks around, trying to spot the door with ‘The Masked Man’ on it. She finally finds it, but the door is locked. For a moment, Andrea seems to be stumped, then seems to have an epiphany.

“I know! I’ll pull a Bender...” Andrea trails off and starts looking up at the ceiling.

Drea ends up backtracking to the very beginning of the cocoon, grabbing a few chairs, climbing on them, and pulling herself into a ceiling for the second time in the same day. Andrea begins crawling forward, no doubt trying to find Masked Man’s room and talks to herself to pass the time.

“Okay, so a duck walks into a bookstore, and he sees a turtle with a baker’s head on a pike, and the duck goes to the turtle and says...”

Before Andrea can finish her joke, the fate of John Bender befalls her as well, and she crashes through the ceiling into a dressing room. Not just any dressing room, though, as it happens to be that of Ebony! Andrea, as might be expected, wigs out!

“AAAH!!!”

Ebony stares at Andrea then makes whatever sound a human-like ferret/weasel hybrid would make.

“I like it when they yell.” Ebony says before rising from her chair.

“AAAAA!” Andrea shouts again and scrambles to her feet.

Ebony makes a move, but Drea dodges it and fumbles with the door. As Ebony closes in, Andrea manages to get out and slams into NTD. She climbs over him and heads off down the hall as Ebony opens the door and sees the Pantless Wonder looking up at her from the floor. Legend has it the screams echoed off the walls for well over thirty minutes.

Andrea leans against a wall, breathing hard after her recent encounter THAT LEAD TO NOTHING AT ALL. Not too far down the corridor, Andrea can hear a voice. A Romanian voice. Drea walks down, using her mad Splinter Cell skillz to go undetected. Andrea peers around a corner and catches sight of her quarry, The Masked Man! Drea’s breathing gets heavier, but it’s not due to exhaustion, no sir. Andrea remains staring at Masked Fury, who’s too busy to notice her. Drea leans forward, trying to get a better look, but ends up knocking down one of the conveniently placed stack of folding chairs for backstage beatings.

CRASH!

CLANG!

ZOINKS!

CLATTER!

WAFFLE!!

That managed to catch Masked Man’s attention, which is something Andrea didn’t hope to catch. As TMM turns his head in Andrea’s direction, the Mississippian bolts the other way down the hall, making random lefts and rights, simply trying to get as far away as fast as possible. Drea finally comes to a stop in front of The Edward James Center for Displaying Emotions.

“Okay, screw this. I’m not going to sneak around anymore. I’ve just got to step forward and tell him.” Andrea says to herself and starts walking as we fizzade to blizzack~!

Thoth · August 7, 2004

SWF Storm returns from it’s previous commercial break, fade out, and/or promo. It may have been a match, as well. Who knows? Anyway, the Denver fans are very cold, as usual. The average temperature in Denver, Colorado is 71 degrees Fahrenheit. That’s not really cold, but we’ll pretend the temperature dropped 15 degrees. So it is now 56 degrees Fahrenheit inside the Pepsi Center. Who names their arena after a soft drink? Is it some fad I don’t get? What’s next? The Sprite Remix Garden? Dr. Pepper Coliseum? Man, I can sure go for a Dr. Pepper right about now…

Oh yeah, the match. Anyway, the fans are all happy and cheering and stuff. Comet and Riley are sitting at the announcers’ table, blah blah blah, etc.

“Welcome back fans, to SWF STOOOOOORM! It’s sort of like OOOOOOOMEGA STORM! But this is a SWF show. Not a Junior Leaguer.”

“Right…”

“You know who was a Junior Leaguer, as well? Tokyo X! But we aren’t going to have a show called SWF Tokyo X!”

“Because it would suck…” says Riley.

“I wouldn’t say that…but yes. Anyway, up next is Revolution Zeros ‘Hollywood’ Spike Jenkins going one on one with the giant of the Wayward Sons, Edward James!”

“When was the last time Edward James won a match? Jesus, man. You think someone would get the point and pick a new profession when the last time they won a match was the day after never!”

“Don’t be so mean, Robert.”

“Seriously. He isn’t very good at wrestling. Sure, he is big. But so what? He should just go get a new job. Maybe become a Professional RPG Player!”

“RPG?” questions Comet.

“Role Playing Game. I heard James beat Final Fantasy 7 in 10 hours! What a freaking loser! GET A LIFE!”

“Someone didn’t get their Pepsi Max this morning…”

“Comet, what are you talking about? WE ARE IN THE PEPSI CENTER! THERE IS PEPSI MAX EVERYWHERE! THE KID BEHIND ME IS DRINKING A PEPSI MAX!”

Riley turns behind him, grabbing the cup out of a little boy’s hand. The kid squeals, but Riley takes a sip anyway.

“Ack! It’s Diet Pepsi Max!”

Riley turns back around and throws the cup at the kid’s mother. She screams out, grabs her kid’s hand, and takes him out of the arena.

“Good riddance! Hussy!”

Suddenly, from out of nowhere pops Matt Kennedy Gould of Joe Schmoe fame.

“WHAT IS GOOOOOOING ON?”

Now saying his catch phrase, a crewmember pops on the screen and hands Matt a check. Matt looks at the camera again, holds his thumbs in the air and smiles. A cup of soda across the head stops the smile, and pretty much kills Matt.

“Its Diet Pepsi Max, and your fifteen minutes of fame are up!” yells Riley.

“Wow…lets start the match…please.” Begs Comet.

Funyon stands in the middle of the ring, microphone in hand. He is wearing a power blue tuxedo, and I don’t care what anybody says because that is what he is wearing. Anybody who says otherwise is a filthy liar.

“The following contest is scheduled for one fall. First, making his way to the ring…”

Around the arena the lights drop out, leaving everyone shrouded in complete and total darkness. After a few moments of silence, an ominous voice bellows from the rafters as the SmarkTron slowly fades to life, showing a large crag of mountain that seems larger than life...

"An overwhelming symbol of power..."

...the voice fades away as the opening notes of "Darkest Omen" cascade over the crowd, two large spotlights hit the entrance ramp, showing a large figure standing tall and looking out over the arena. The music continues and the man steps from the shadows, revealing he to be none other than Edward James. With an intense look frozen in his eyes, Edward walks to the ring; his every step met with the mix of slow, classical tones and cymbal crashes of his music...

“Weighing in at a total of Two Hundred and Seventy-Six pounds. He hails from Redwater, Alberta, Canada! He represents the Boy Scouts…err…the Wayward Sons! He is Edward James!”

The crowd boos the rookie, because The Wayward Sons suck, as he climbs the ring steps, turning to face them as he reaches the apron. He raises one fist slow and deliberately, holding it high in the air for a moment before turning back and climbing into the ring, his motions like a caged lion - waiting to be unleashed onto the SWF.

“Wow! His motions are like a caged lion…waiting to be unleashed onto the SWF!”

“A caged lion? More like a pus…”

“Do not say it, Riley!” Comet cuts off.

“Whatever.”

“AND HIS OPPONENT!” booms Funyon.

The techno beats of Darude’s “Sandstorm” begins playing over the announce system, as…

*BOOM*

…White pyrotechnics goes off on each side of the stage. “Hollywood” Spike Jenkins appears out from the backstage area, followed by his fellow stable mate, Jet. Spike stops at the entrance ramp, the hood of his jacket covering his head, while he stares at the ground. Spike flips the hood off his head, throwing his arms out in a cocky manner for the whole world to see. Spike and Jet begin to make their way down to the ring.

”Weighing in at a total of Two Hundred and Twenty-five pounds! He hails from Hollywood, California. He is accompanied to the ring by Jet, and is representing Revolution Zero! He is ‘Hollywood’ Spike Jenkins!!!

“YOU SUCK! YOU SUCK! YOU SUCK!”

Spike mocks the fans in the front row, as he climbs up the steel steps onto the ring apron. He walks across the ring apron, proclaiming his ignorance to the fans with his arms in the air. Spike steps through the ring ropes, and peels his jacket off. He tosses it to Jet at ringside, as he waits for the match to begin.

“Spike Jenkins is so hot right now.”

“…”

“What? He is a hot talent right now. Him and everyone in Revolution Zero!”

“Yeah…” trails off Comet.

Nick Soapdish makes sure both men are ready, and signals for the bell.

*Ding Ding Ding*

Edward James enters the center of the ring, but Spike quickly charges in at home. He snaps his boot into James gut, barely stunning the giant. With a second boot, Spike charges back into the ropes. He bounces off the ropes and comes charging back towards Edward. Spike goes for some high impact maneuver, but is stopped short by James giant hand wrapping around his throat!

“Spike tried to start the match at full speed, but Citizen James stopped him in his tracks!”

With Spike in his grasps, James holds his free arm in the air, signaling for a chokeslam. Spike tries to break free, but James just tightens the hold. James prepares to lift Spike into the air…

…But Spike goes all third grade on James’ ass and STOMPS ON HIS FOOT!

*KABONG*

“Did you hear that, Comet?”

“Hear what?” asks Comet.

“I heard something go Kabong!”

“Oh, that was Spike stepping on Citizen Edward’s foot.”

“Oh, okay.”

James breaks his hold from around Spikes’ neck, and kneels over, holding his foot in pain. Spike takes the opportunity to back up a few steps, before charging in at James. Spike springboards off James’ gut as he leaps into the air, connecting with an enziguri to the back of his opponent’s head.

“Standing Enziguri by Spike!”

Spike falls to the mat, but is quick back up to his feet. James stumbles around from the blow, before falling to one knee. Spike again charges at James. He springboards off of James’ knee, connecting with another enziguri kick to the back of the head!

*BOING*

“Dangerous Wizard by Spike! He is certainly using his speed tonight against the giant Edward James.” Notes Comet.

“Who the hell is doing the sound effects tonight? They suck!”

Spike gets to his knees just in time to see James fall flat on his face. Spike tries to turn James over onto his back, but the big man is…*gasp*…. big! Spike has trouble pushing him over, but is finally able to, wearing himself out in the process. Nonetheless, Spike makes the cover.

ONE!

ONE ½!

TWO!

T…Kick out!

“Not even close to a three count for the Standing Enziguri and Dangerous Wizard combo. Spike is going to have to work a little bit harder then that to keep this member of the Wayward Sons down.”

Spike climbs up to his feet, annoyed at the kick out. On the outside of the ring, Jet pounds the mat to cheer on her fellow stable mate. James climbs up to his feet, a little shaken up from Spike’s assault. Spike charges backwards into the ropes, ready to put his speed to good use…

…When he charges straight into James’ boot!

*DIE BAD EVIL NASTY MAN! BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHHAHAHAAAAAAAAAAA! *

“What the fudge....” says Riley.

“Big boot by Edward James! Spike went straight down to the mat!”

“That tends to happen in the wrestling ring. When you get kicked in the face, you fall to the mat. It’s not something new, Comet.”

James drops down, covering the Revolution Zero member in hopes of beating him with just a big boot. But he is a giant and he has strength of ten. So, it’s sort of a REALLY Big Boot.

ONE!

TWO!

TWO ½!

TWO ¾!

THRE…NO! Spike gets a shoulder up!

“Spike kicking out before the three. Way to go!” says an excited Riley.

“You know who rules? Taylor Nicholas Thompson.”

“What?”

“TNT. He was a great World Champion…”

“Whatever you say, Comet…”

As Spike struggles to climb to his feet, James comes over to lend a hand. Grabbing Spike by his hair, the giant pull his opponent up to his feet. He grabs Spike by the wrist, and easily throws him into the corner with an Irish whip. Spike heads into the corner at rapid speed, just barely turning to crash into the corner back first.

“Citizen James is taking charge in this match. This big man may be coming close to a serious upset over the former Cruiserweight Champion!”

“How can it be an upset? Edward James is half a foot taller, and more than twenty-five pounds heavier then him!” cries Riley.

“Citizen James win-loss record isn’t that fantastic, don’t you know Riley?”

“Oh, I get it. It will be an upset because James sucks.”

“That ISN’T what I’m saying!” cries the misinformed Superhero.

With Spike barely on his feet in the corner, Eddie figures he has the match in the bag. He holds his arms in the air, trying to soak in the cheers from the crowd. Something he usually doesn’t get, cause nobody gives a shit about the Wayward Sons. With the Straight Edger in the corner, James charges towards him as fast as he can.

“Eddie James is going to squish Spike! Get out of there, Spike!”

As Bobby Riley shouts it out at the announcers’ table, Spikes does as told and quickly dodges out of the way of the incoming James. He tries to put on the brakes, but he still collides chest first into the corner.

“Way to go, Spike! You see that, Comet?” Riley nudges at his partner in crime. “You see that? I told him what to do, he did it, and now he is a winner!”

“Do you really want me to respond?” asks Comet. Riley stays silent for a moment, contemplating every scenario for the answer he gives…

“No.”

James stumbles back out of the corner, ready to stay on the attack. But Spike is ready for him, as he nails him underneath the jaw with an open-palm uppercut, causing James to stagger against the ropes.

*KAPOW*

Spike jumps into the corner, pulling him up onto the middle ropes facing into the ring. Spike grabs a handful of James hair, pulling him closer into the corner.

“What is Spike going for here…?” questions Comet.

Spike stands on the middle rope, holding a handful of hair from his opponent. He plants his knee on the back of James head. He raises his free arm in the air, taunting the crowd as he yells out “Ego Trip”!

“BOOOOOOOOOOO!”

“Ego Trip!” shrieks Riley.

“He’s going to use Tom Flesher’s finisher? I don’t understand.”

Spike attempts to leap forward; ready to drive the giant’s face into the ground. But Edward James has other plans. As Spike tries to get off the middle rope, James breaks free from Spike’s knee on the back of his head. James smacks Spike’s hand away from his hair, freeing himself from any plans of an Ego Trip.

“We don’t have to worry about him doing Tom Flesher’s Ego Trip now…” trails off Comet.

“Even if he did hit it, it probably wouldn’t of kept Edward James down. Spike’s Ego Trip can never touch the greatness of Tom Flesher’s.”

“We may never know. Spike has worked on Citizen James’ neck for the whole match.”

“That’s right,” says Riley. “Not to mention Edward James sucks.”

“I don’t think so, Robert.”

“I don’t really care.”

Spike stands on the middle rope, stunned from the recent break out from the Giant of the Boy Scouts. James, knowing full well that Spike can use his speed to gain backs the advantage, quickly moves in on the assault. He grabs Spike around the throat with his giant left hand.

“Can Edward James be going for a chokeslam?” questions Comet.

“I don’t think Spike will be able to get himself out of this one, Comet!” cries Riley.

Spike realizes that he is stuck in a sticky situation. He tries to come up with anything to get him out of this…

…And the only thing he can come up with is to hold on for dear life.

“Spike Jenkins is known for his quick thinking in the ring…but even I’m stumped at this, Comet.”

“Citizen James is trying to pull Spike off the middle rope, for a chokeslam…but Spike is holding onto the top ropes. I’m not completely sure how this is going to help him…”

Edward James keeps his bear like grip on the throat of Spike, as he tries to pull him off. Spikes’ face begins to turn purple, as it’s clear that James is trying to stop the oxygen from getting into his body to pull him off the ropes. Referee Soapdish sees this, and no matter how much it displeases him, has to make James break the hold.

”One!”

“Two!”

“Three!”

As the referee’s count begins to wear down, James tries even harder than before to pull Spike down. But Spike refuses, as he keeps his grip on the top ropes.

“Four!”

“Five! Break the hold!” yells Nick Soapdish. Soapdish grabs at Edward’s left arm, trying to pull it off of Spike’s throat.

“Good move by Official Nick Soapdish” Riley applauds. “Breaking the hold is the right thing to do.”

“I have to agree. It was a chokehold, and Spike was on the ropes.

With Soapdish pulling on his arm, James finally breaks his grip away from Spike’s throat. Spike grabs his throat, gasping for air. Soapdish holds onto James’ arm, trying to pull him away from Spike. James holds his ground, arguing with the referee…

…Until Spike kicks him in the throat!

“BOOOOOOOOO! SPIKE SUCKS! SPIKE SUCKS!”

“WHAT A CHEAPSHOT!” cries The Caped Crusader of Good Stuff. “He kicked Edward James in the windpipe while the referee was dealing with him!”

“Don’t go accusing Spike of cheating, Comet. He hit James in the throat, just like James had that claw grip on Spike’s throat.”

“But he did it while the referee was trying to get him out of there!”

James kneels over, holding his throat. His face turns red as he tries to breathe. Soapdish is quick to scold Spike, but the Hollywood Superstar responds with a “Get the hell out of the way!”

“Spike is now heading to the top rope. Looks like he is going to take advantage of the choking James.”

As Comet said, Spike steps up to the top rope. Now standing above the giant, Spike leaps off the turnbuckle. He flies overhead, descending down onto James. Spike crashes down on top of James, his knee planted into the back of the head of the Boy Scouts Giant and driving him face first into the mat!

“Was that…a Ego Trip?” asks Comet.

“It sort of looked like one…” Riley gets cutoff as he begins to mumble something and stare off into space as if being channeled. “This just in…”

“Yes?”

“That was the Super Ego Trip. That is all.”

“The Super Ego Trip?” asks Comet.

“What?”

“You just said that move Spike did was called The Super Ego Trip.”

“…What are you talking about Comet?”

“You just said that the move Spike just did was called The Super Ego Trip…”

“No, I didn’t…”

“…”

“You freak.”

Spike rolls James over onto his back, having a lot of trouble in rolling the big man over. He lies back on James, counting along with the referee.

ONE!

TWO!

THREE!

*Ding Ding Ding*

Spike climbs up to his feet, wiping the sweat off his forehead. Jet slides into the ring, raising the arm of the victor.

“Here is your winner, “Hollywood” Spike Jenkins!” booms Funyon.

“With the help of a kick to the windpipe, and a move that is very similar to Tom Flesher’s Ego Trip…Spike Jenkins wins another one.”

“It was no Ego Trip, but it looked great!” says Riley, who once again begins staring into space. Drool begins running down his chin as he says, “In Japan, that move is called the Destiny Hammer. It is also known as the Diving Enzu Knee.”

“Oh. Well, thank you for the information, Robert.”

“What?”

“Oh, never mind!”

Spike Jenkins and Jet begin making their way backstage, as Jenkins taunts the fans. As “Sandstorm” begins to fade out, so does Storm.

Ummmm…yeah…

So…

Yeah…

Masked Man is teh sukors!

[Fade Out!]

Edited August 7, 2004 by Thoth

Thoth · August 7, 2004

The camera view cuts to an outside shot of the arena as a large black, sinister looking 2005 Dodge Durango hurtles into the parking lot and taking up two car parking spaces with some incredibly aggressive parking from its driver. All is quiet for a moment before the drivers door open and the masked form of Vlad Everheart hops out, the Corona is clad in his usual ring attire and mask but this time sports a Dimmu Borgir t shirt as he reaches into the car and plucks out a small script like bundle of papers. Vlad slams the door shut looking at the ticket stub that won him the car before pocketing it. It seems that Strangler wasn’t the only man who came out of the Mall Brawl a winner.

The Corona walks into the building nodding to a few of the SWF staff before he looks down at the papers he’s carrying in his had, the camera follows him as he flips it open and starts skimming through a few pages until he gets to where he had left off. The word SUMA is visible on the tops of the pages as the title is printed on every piece of paper. Barely looking where he’s going as his eyes scan his version of light reading and humming some kind of strange tune to himself its no surprise that Vlad finally bumps into someone.

“Pardon.” He mutters before starting to walk again before a hand lands on his shoulder and pulls him back around to come face to face with a rather irate Ace Lezaire who just spilt hot coffee down a t-shirt of himself.

“Hey, you! You there! Apologize for running into me, knave...” The Canadian Superstar shouts as he angrily begins to mop coffee from his shirtfront with a hanky provided by his long suffering cameraman Steve.

Vlad stares blankly at Ace as he knows he already apologised and now this man wants him to do it again when he already has?

“Nothing to say, aye? Typical foreigners, taking jobs from hardworking, Canadian wrestlers like myself. And look at that mask, I mean, honestly, who wears a mask? I understand if you're here illegally and have hide from the authorities, but it's bloody ridiculous.”

Vlad simply blinks as he tries to understand all that’s being said at him, raising his free hand and scratching his masked head in confusion.

“Authorities? You…illegal mask with the bloody….ridiculous authorities?” The Norwegian hazards.

Ace is temporarily speechless from such a chopped up and confusing reply before he launches into another tirade at the confused Corona.

“Do you wear that mask because you can't handle 365 days of sun? Is that how it is up there? Is that why you wear a mask so it won’t burn your girlie white skin?”

“I…” Vlad begins before Lezaire cuts him off once again.

“How can you live in such a godforsaken hole of land?! You people must be bred from birth to be maniacs! I’ve heard the stories of that frozen wasteland you call home, you have a piss and you have to snap it off for Christ’s sake!”

“A little chilly there yes?” Vlad answers with cheerful stoicism, as he thinks Ace is complimenting his home country.

“A little chilly?! If you fart during the night you wake up with an ice cube sticking out of your ass!”

Vlad slowly closes his first edition copy of SUMA complete with appendix and extra chapter of sexual depravity and tucks it under one arm, tilting his head slightly as he listens to Ace’s seemingly never ending babble before he reaches into a pocket and pulls out a small book that he starts to flip through.

“And another thing I…..hey what that?!” Lezaire snaps, snatching the book from the Corona’s hands who looks up in surprise but doesn’t reach for it back.

“Phrasebook…” He says, mangling the world so its barely understandable, but as the camera focuses on Ace once again it reveals that it is indeed an English to Norwegian phrasebook.

“Right! Now I’ll say something you WILL understand you foul foreign jobber!” Ace says with a triumphant smirk, ignoring Steve’s groan from behind him as the cameraman wonders if there are any loopholes in his contract.

Vlad however simply stands there patiently, watching as Ace flips through the book seemingly finding words to piece together before he sneers at Vlad.

“Min luftputefartøy, er fullstendig av ål.”

The Corona blinks for a moment as Ace smirks at him.

“Your hovercraft…is full of eels?” Vlad says, the make up covering the exposed parts of his face beneath the mask creasing slightly as he frowns in confusion and watches as the smile drops off of Lezaire’s face.

“……….What?!……..No………that’s not right!” He shouts into Vlad’s face and the Norwegian leans back slightly to avoid the phlegm as a red faced Lezaire begins to quickly flip through the book again for a few moments before he once again sneers at the masked man in front of him.

“Min brystvorte eksploderer med glede!”

This time Vlad takes a quick step backwards, his half hidden eyes widening as he suddenly peers intently at Ace’s t-shirt clad chest, making the Canadian Superstar look down as well.

“What the hell are you looking at?! Didn’t you hear what I said?”

“Your nipples explode with delight?” Vlad says in wonder. “That is possible?”

“…………..” is all Lezaire says before he throws the book back at Vlad, the small volume bouncing off the Norwegian’s chest before he stoops to pick it back up and then resumes looking at Ace’s chest once again even going so far as trying to lift up the t shirt before Lezaire leaps back and slaps his hand away.

“Hey hands off!”

“But you say…..”

“I KNOW what I said and it WASN’T what I wanted to say!”

“You say what you know you do not want wasn’t to say?” Vlad says, merely adding to the mounting confusion before Ace explodes at him once again.

“I bet there's corpse paint underneath there, isn’t there?! Admit it! All you corpse paint wearing freaks are nothing but witches! There! I said it! Witches, the lot of you! You put some sort of spell on me, didn't you? DIDN’T YOU?! Caused me to stumble in my quest to gain the most coveted prize in our industry! You and Dace, all you European dogs, are trying to bring me down, well I'll have none of it. NONE OF IT I SAY!”

Lezaire stalks past Vlad with Steve in tow, the Corona watching them go before Ace turns and shakes a fist at the masked wrestler.

“You haven’t heard the last of this you…..you abominable snowman! I’ll make you wish you were still back in ummo gummo land or wherever the hell it is you come from! Watch your back Kraut boy!”

“Kraut is a GERMAN reference Ace.” Steve says with another long-suffering sigh.

“Oh shut it!” Lezaire snaps as he stalks off into the backstage area.

Vlad watches the departing Lezaire and his trailing cameraman before shaking his head slightly and opening up SUMA once again as he continues his walk. “Nice man, if…..if…..” He pauses for a moment and fishes out his phrasebook taking this opportunity to practice his English some.

“If…..ah! If loud!”

The Corona nods and puts the book back in his pocket before going back to SUMA.

“If loud…..yes….…pity about his nipples exploding……I wonder if the eels…….in his……his hovercraft were the cause….” He mutters to himself, drawing a funny look from an SWF crewman who quickly gets as far away from the masked man as possible as Vlad continues his oblivious wanderings through the backstage area.

Thoth · August 7, 2004

"PREPARE...FOR...LANDON!"

...WAAAAAHHHHH...

*DUM DUM*

"BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!"

Suddenly, it seems Storm is set to take a trip to 'The Future'...as "Megalomaniac" hits and the NEW ICTV Champion Landon Maddix wastes no time in bursting through the curtains, with his belt held high in the air. The boos are equally as quick to fill the air, as out follow Natasha and Chris Card...Megan Skye bringing up the rear. And what a rear!

"Ladies and gentlemen...please welcome to the ring. Accompanied by fellow members of Chris Card Enterprises. The NEEEEEEWWW SWF INTERCONTINENTAL TELEVISION CHAMPION... LAAANDON "LA CUCARACHA" MAAADDIIIXXX!!!"

Together the foursome stroll down the aisle, each with huge grins plastered on their faces after the events of Ground Zero.

"Well...you knew it was coming." sighs Comet. "You just knew Landon Maddix couldn't last any longer without bragging about what happened at Ground Zero."

"And why shouldn't he?" beams Riley, a huge grin plastered on his face too.

"I will admit, he has right to be proud. He was involved in one hell of a match at Ground Zero...not to mention he won it. And he's now a two-time ICTV Champion."

"Well then."

Maddix reaches the ring, rolling in underneath the bottom rope. The less agile three behind him take their time climbing up the steps, as Maddix poses with the belt to some more heavy boos. Into the ring enter Card, Natasha and Megan. Meanwhile, Maddix places the belt carefully over his shoulder, handling it as if it were a small child, before extending a hand to Funyon who passes him the microphone.

"JOHN- EEE! JOHN -EEE! JOHN- EEE!"

Just as the chants start from where they left off on Sunday night.

"What a wonderful night for an evening...of celebration!" Maddix beams as the chants continue.

"Wondeful night for an evening?" Comet questions. "How does that work?"

"Shush!" hisses Riley.

"JOHN- EEE! JOHN -EEE! JOHN- EEE!"

"At least it would be, if you people had the courtesy to shut up!" snaps Landon. "Incase you hadn't noticed...I'm not 'Johnny'. I'm Landon Maddix. So I suggest you quit chanting and let me speak! See...tonight is a night for many things. Celebration being one of them. And, of course, gloating being another."

Card and co. begin to golf-clap Maddix, as he smiles and nods.

"You see...I told you. I told you all! What happened to me when Johnny Dangerous stole the ICTV Championship was a fluke and on Sunday night I proved that without a shadow of a doubt. In one of the longest, gruellingest and hardest fought matches in my career I regained the ICTV Championship. I beat Johnny Dangerous. And then I laughed in his pathetic face...just like I said I would!"

"BOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

"Sure...it took a little longer than I'd expected. But at the end of the night, the Intercontinental Television Championship was right back where it belongs. That, to quote somebody famous, is the bottom line. It really didn't matter that Johnny Dangerous was a stubborn as a mule. Not to mention looking and smelling like one. Because when the bell had rung and I had the belt in my hands, I knew I'd embarrased that son of a bitch!"

Laughing again, Landon has to stop for a moment before continuing.

"I knew that I'd embarrased him LIVE on Pay Per View, with his friends and his family watching on from home. I knew that Wildchild was watching his 'good friend', willing him on only to see him fall short as he always does on his own. Johnny didn't have Wildchild. Johnny didn't have a steel chair. In short...Johnny didn't have what it took! Which made it even more satisfying when he walked up to me with his hand out-stretched, his ass kicked, sweat dripping off him like he'd been wrestling for an hour and tears welling up in his eyes..."

"JOHN- EEE! JOHN -EEE! JOHN- EEE!"

"...he looked at me like a puppy that had just been kicked square in the gut. Utterly patheticly. And he said 'Pwease Wandon...pwease make me look good by shaking my hand.'"

"I don't know about Johnny Dangerous...but THIS is pathetic." snaps Comet.

"'Pwease Wandon'..." Landon continues on, a mocking frown on his face. "'...I know you were the better man, but I still have to try and steal your spotlight!' So I did the only thing I could do and that's laugh in his face!"

"BOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

"...Yeah, yeah. I've been getting that ever since Ground Zero. Ever since Sunday night. So boo all you want..."

"BOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

"Nevermind the fact that I BEAT Johnny Dangerous. Nevermind the fact that I put on another show stealing performance for you ungrateful sons of bitches! And nevermind the fact that I am... the... Intercontinental Television... CHAMPION! You people don't know talent when you see it! I busted my ass on Sunday night and came away with the gold. Johnny Dangerous lost, made an ass of himself...and yet HE gets the standing ovation, while you people boo me?"

Landon has suddenly lost his grin, busy directing his tirade at as many parts of the crowd as possible, with the crowd responding as you'd expect.

"That's why I could care less what you people think. If you'd rather cheer a pathetic loser like Johnny Dangerous than a champion like me, then quite frankly you can al..."

“JOHNNY DAAANGEROUUS~!”

“RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!!”

Stopping in his tracks, Maddix's head snaps towards the entrance way as space-like sounds begin to blare through the arena...which is almost missing it's roof as the result of a massive pop from the crowd! Card too looks understandably shocked at the interruption, while half bewildered at this strange music starting up. The lights drop out and a thumping beat takes over. Suddenly a chorus line breaks out…

“HEEERE COMES THE MEN IN BLAAACK~!”

"Finally!" booms Comet. "Thank goodness for that!"

"What the hell is this?" Riley yells in response. "Who let the loser come out here? This is a show for people to gloat about being great...what does THIS idiot have to gloat about!?”

"How about a career-defining performance at Ground Zero?"

"Career-defining? He LOST!!!" snaps Bobby. “And what the hell is up with this music. Will Smith? Ack!”

Red and blue strobe lights illuminate the partially darkened arena. In the ring, Landon just watches the stage, sneering as the strobes light up his vicious mug. Finally, Johnny Dangerous steps onto the stage and the fans rejoice with another loud pop!

“Great Scott, Bobby Riley!” shouts Comet, as the Barracuda emerges onto the stage dressed in a black tux. “Something is up with Agent Dangerous tonight! He’s got the black tux on—something we haven’t seen since the stone age!”

Johnny takes his sweet time getting to the ring, as a few of the bustier fans in attendance has grabbed his attention. He stops directly in front of a beautiful blonde with decent cleavage, flashing that million dollar smile that can melt a woman like butter. This one is no different, and she makes no attempt to conceal her giddiness. Johnny opens his coat and reaches inside and brings out…a red rose.

“This is something we haven’t seen in a long-long time,” notes Comet, as the fans cheer the notion. “He’s dusting off a truck load of mothballs with this one.”

He motions for a kiss in exchange for the rose, but he didn’t even need to ask for this one as she excitedly pecks him on the lips.

“Such a disgusting display,” mutters Bobby. “Johnny Dangerous is purchasing the love of a woman with a rose--what a schmuck!”

“Most men utilize such a similar technique on a semi-regular basis,” says Comet. “I realize that you’d know nothing about that though.”

After hading off the rose, the suavely dressed Dangerous raises a ready prepared microphone to his lips...

"JOHN- EEE! JOHN -EEE! JOHN- EEE!"

...but soon lowers it to let the crowd get their chants going again, infuriating The Enterprise to no end in the ring. A smile almost appears on Dangerous' face, but not quite as he looks down at Maddix.

"WHA..."

"Save it kid." Johnny deadpans to a cheer from the fans. "I didn't come out here to spend the next twenty minutes exchanging insults with you. That isn't my style anymore. No, you see, I'm here to sort out something. This issue between us was supposed to end at Ground Zero with our match, and after that all our differences would be put aside and we'd move on. But the trouble with that is, I have new issues I need to take up with you. Issues like Natasha putting your foot on the rope, saving you from tapping out to the Interrogator!"

"BOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

The crowd boo Maddix, knowing forewell what Johnny is talking about, as Maddix tries to quiten them down...but to no avail.

"Issues like you dis-respecting me at the end of our match."

"BOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

"I have no problems admitting that you beat me. I have no problems admitting that on that night you may very well have been the better man and I'm willing to forgoe punishment for Natasha's actions. After all, let's face it, it's to be expected from you Maddix. What I'm not gonna stand for is some no-good PUNK laughing in my face after I'd shown the decency to show you respect. The days of doormat Johnny Dangerous went out with the Macarena, amigo! Which is why Commisioner Zenon and I met earlier today, to..."

"Whoah! Hold up. If you're planning on another title shot, then you..."

"Hear me out kid, hear me out. I met with Zenon and talked over a few things with him. And he's assured me that he understands my concerns. He has also assured me that he's going to act on what occured, giving me a match with you on Lockdown!"

"YEEEEEEAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!"

"WHAT!?!" Riley wails, as the foursome in the ring go mad.

"NO!" Landon finally yells. "No, I ain't having this crap. No way. What right do you have to step into the number one contender's spot again. You don't have a rematch clause...I checked with Zenon before Ground Zero, to avoid any nasty surprises. So what makes you think you should get another shot at this belt!?!"

"Relax Landon, relax. Zenon agrees with you..."

Now Maddix's anger has subsided, and he just looks confused...turning to Card, who looks just as confused himself.

"He agrees that I'm not the number one contender, so he's not going to put the title on the line. This is about pride Landon. Landon Maddix versus Johnny Dangerous. One more time..."

"NON TITLE!"

"Non title, yes. But, I bargained a little with Zenon and he's made it official. Your entourage...your 'posse', whatever they're called. It's official...they're ALL banned from ringside!"

"YEEEEEAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!"

Again the crowd go nuts...as do the four in the ring, although for different reasons. Johnny meanwhile forces a smile as he sees Chris Card kicking at the ropes in his frustration, cursing at anyone and everyone within a twenty metre radius.

"So, there'll be no Chris Card to run interference and give you advise. No Natasha to place your feet on the ropes at opportune moments. No Megan to towel you down when you get a little sweaty. For once Maddix, you're gonna have to go alone! There'll be no shortcuts this time and there will be no excuses when I prove to the world that I am better than you."

With his piece said, Johnny flips the microphone over his shoulder and smiles towards a section of pro-Johnny fans as Landon looks on snarling and seething, with his moment of glory well and truly ruined. Card is still going nuts too as Johnny points down the ramp towards Maddix and mouths the word 'revenge'...while Landon responds with a sneer and raises his ICTV Championship.

"So it will be the rematch!" booms a clearly excited Comet. "On Lockdown, it will be Johnny Maddix 3! Non title, but there will be no Chris Card Enterprise members permitted at ringside Robert!"

"Ridiculous! And to think, I was looking forward to Alex Zenon becoming full time Commisioner. Not anymore. He's only just got the job full-time, and already he's looking to job out his ICTV Champion. Almost makes me miss Stevens!"

"You needn't miss him though Robert, as he will be in action...yes, that's right, Mark Stevens in ACTION...in tonight's main event with John Duran!"

"How can you think about that at a time like this Comet? Out ICTV Champion is the victim of prejudice and here you are, Mr Superhero, pimping the 1972 Rookie Of The Year..."

"You were the one who brought Mark's name up..."

"Ah shut up! Haven't we got some Pepsi Max to pimp or something..."

Thoth · August 7, 2004

SWF Storm returns from the previous commercial break, as we are backstage following “Hollywood” Spike Jenkins after his match with Edward James. Spike walks the halls of the Pepsi Center, Jet hurrying behind him. As Spike turns the corner towards the Revolution Zero locker room, the SWF Hardcore Gamers Champion, Sean Davis, and the SWF World Heavyweight Champion, Toxxic, are both standing in the hall way, waiting the arrival for Spike.

“What the hell are you doing out there?” shouts Toxxic as Spike makes his way towards his stable mates.

“What?”

“You know what. Using the Ego Trip to beat James. What are you thinking?”

“You want to know why I did that?” asks Spike as the rest of Rev0 nods their heads. “I’m calling Flesher’s sorry ass out!”

“WHAT?” shouts Toxxic. “Do you have any idea of what you are doing?” Spike nods. “Why? Do you remember what happened last time you got in the ring with Flesher? He took your Cruiserweight title!”

“I can beat him!”

“You can beat him?” questions Toxxic, a little annoyed at Spike’s response. “You think you can beat Tom Flesher? I barely beat Tom Flesher.”

“But you did beat him. And now, it’s my turn.”

“You aren’t ready.”

“No, I AM ready. You don’t understand, Toxx. I HATE Tom Flesher. The pain he put me through. The things he stole from me. I HATE HIM.” Shouts Spike. Toxxic and Davis both look a little taken back from the sudden fire shown in the Hollywood superstar’s words. Spike turns towards the camera, putting all his attention into the viewers at home, and hopefully Tom Flesher.

“Flesher, you like to walk around here. Flaunting your ego. Your past victories and the titles you held. You like to scare people with the fact that you are Superior to them. But I know better then them, Tom. I’ve been with this company for over two years. I’ve seen Tom Flesher fail, but more often than not, I’ve seen him succeed. I knew better then to get in your way. I was smarter than that. But fate seemed to step in, and I was booked in my first match ever with the Superior One. And what was the result?” Spike pauses as he looks at his stable mates, both waiting for him to finish.

“I ended up flat on my back. No surprise, really. Did anyone expect me to win that match? No. At times, I didn’t think I was either. But, it’s not the fact that I lost that hurts. Tom, you want to know what hurts the most? You took my title away from me. The thing I scratched, and clawed, and fought for. I DESERVED that title! And you took it from me.”

“Come on, Spike. We get it…” Jet tries to cut Spike off. Spike turns his attention towards the valet of Revolution Zero. “ NO! ” shouts Spike, who takes Jet back a few steps.

“YOU DON’T GET IT! NO ONE GETS IT!” Spike looks dead into the camera. “Tom Flesher. You took what was mine. What I fought for! What I bled for! And you better be damn ready to fight for it. YOU BETTER BE DAMN READY TO BLEED FOR IT. Flesher, I stand before the whole world today. I swear on my life that I will get back my Cruiserweight title, or die trying! YOU DON’T SCARE ME TOM FLESHER.” Spike voice slowly gets louder and louder as everyone in Revolution Zero is truly behind him now. “My intentions are true. My vision is clear. You cannot stop Revolution Zero, Tom Flesher. YOU CANNOT STOP ME! ” Spike yells. He gives one final look into the camera, before swinging the locker room door open and storming inside. The rest of Rev0 stand, looking at the door. Sean Davis and Jet turn towards their leader, unsure of what to do. Toxxic looks at both of them, World Title over his shoulder, and a grin across his face.

“Well... this should be fun.”

“Coming up next, fans…” says Cyclone Comet, as a backstage camera fires up, training on Tom Flesher walking down a backstage hall. “Tom Flesher is WALKING!”

As Flesher drags the SWF Cruiserweight Championship belt behind him, he gains overness, and the show fades to commercial.

===

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===

BOOM!

“Kashmir” bursts out over the PA system, and the accompanying burst of blue smoke and pyro lights up the arena! Almost instantly, Tom Flesher walks out from behind the curtain. Rather than drawing out his strut as he usually does, he walks to the ring with a clipped gait, his eyes focused on the ring. He drags the SWF Cruiserweight Championship belt behind him, and the camera focuses in on the front plate bouncing along the cement.

Before entering the ring, Flesher picks up the belt. He swings it, then throws it over the top rope, leaving it in a heap where it lands. He slides into the ring and, with a quick, disdainful look at the heap of gold, grabs a microphone.

“Cut the music, cut the music,” he says, his voice sounding impatient. As the music fades, he continues.

“So, I hear that Spike Jenkins is… shall we say, a little crampy about having lost the SWF Cruiserweight Championship to yours truly. He seems to think that he has a legitimate claim to the title, because he beat some guy I’ve never heard of for a shot, and then beat some guy I’ve never heard of for the belt. I’ve got one thing to say to Spike… bring it on, bitch.”

Flesher pauses for a brief crowd pop before continuing.

“Listen up, Jenkins. Just because you and Davis got the best of me backstage a few weeks ago, and Toxxic and Janus double-teamed me at Ground Zero, doesn’t mean I’ve lost a step. I took you on one-on-one and… well, Spike, let’s be honest. I embarrassed you. You want a shot at this belt? If you’re going to get your panties in a knot about it, you just go right ahead and…”

The arena lights turn a dark cooling shade of blue to signal the imminent arrival of Austin Sly. The sound of an acoustic guitar playing a hard driving riff floats out over the arena, and Austin Sly emerges from backstage holding a microphone!

“Hang on one minute!” Sly growls.

“Easy there, pumpkin,” Flesher says, his voice dripping with disdain. “I don’t know what exactly you think you’re doing out here, but…”

“I’ll tell you what I’m doing out here,” says Sly. He then proceeds to tell Flesher what he’s doing out here, saying, “Just what do you think you’re doing with that belt?”

“Well,” Flesher says, “at the moment I’m leaving the thing on the mat. I think later on I’m probably going to wrap it up and mail it to the next show, seeing as there aren’t any reputable pawn shops in this one-horse town.”

“You know what? You’re disrespecting a belt that I busted my ass for…”

Minor pop.

“Alan Clark busted his ass for…”

Bigger pop.

“That Wildchild and Johnny F**king Dangerous busted their asses for, night after night after night!” shouts Sly, prompting a deafening cheer! “And let me tell you one more thing, Tommy-boy… I busted my ass to win the number-one contendership to that belt that you don’t give a damn about, and you better believe you’re gonna have to go through me before you even THINK about Revolution Zero!”

“Woah, woah, woah,” Flesher says. “I don’t know who forgot to change your tampon, little man, but as far as I’m concerned, you can just go back to training with the pantsless wonder… I don’t care which vanilla midget I’m stretching, just as long as the bones crack the same. Now get out of my sight, little man.”

Sly stands on the stage, staring at Flesher. Tom simply stares back, and the show fades to a commercial.

Thoth · August 7, 2004

SWF Storm returns from break, LIVE from the The Pepsi Center. Just as we come back, the arena fades to black and multi-colored strobes flash, as "Snap Your Fingers, Snap Your Neck" by Prong hits! The fans jump to their feet, cheering and clapping in a frenzy, as Manson walks out. With his trademark black leather jacket adorning him, Manson pulls the USJL Championship from his waist, and holds it up by the straps for the crowd to see! The crowd continues cheering, as Manson places the belt on his shoulder and walks down to the ring…

"Welcome back to Storm, emanating from Denver, Colorado!" shouts Comet. "As you can see, Denver's own Manson is on his way out, having successfully defended his title at SWF Ground Zero!"

"I don't know how Manson managed to squeak out the win, honestly. All luck, is all I can say… All the cards were in place Max's win. It should be Max King out here right now! MAX KING!" screams Bobby Riley.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, please welcome at this time, the SWF USJL CHAMPION… MMMAAAANNNSOOONNNN!" announces Funyon from the outside of the ring, before sitting back down.

Manson holds the belt to his chest, as he hits the ring and rolls in under the ropes. He pops up and walks over to the bottom right corner, as the house lights come back up and the music dies down. He grabs a mic from a ring attendant, keeping the belt slung over his shoulder…

"All I can say is, I walked in to Ground Zero with the belt around my waist, and after putting Max King down with The Anathema, I walked… back… out!" screams Manson, to the continued ovation from the fans.

"Max King, for all your boasting about your abilities, for all your taunts from the hot tub with your whore, for all your promises about how you were going to take this away from me," says Manson, as he points at the belt laying on his shoulder, "you didn't get the job done!"

"Now I'm done with Max King's bull*BLEEP*, and I look forward to defending the USJL Championship against anyone wh--"

Suddenly, Manson is cut off, as "Bitch" by Meredith Brooks hits!

"Oh, what now?!" asks an angry Comet…

Manson rolls his eyes as Kelly Connelly walks out and the fans let loose with a smattering of jeers and boos. Kelly continues down the ramp, holding her head up high, before finally heading up the ring steps. She steps through the middle and top ropes, and comes into the ring, as Manson keeps a watchful eye on her and crosses his arms. Kelly asks for the mic, but Manson doesn't budge, prompting her to snatch it out of his hands…

"Well, Manson wants to belive he's finished with Max King, but not if Kelly has anything to say about it…" says Comet as he sighs.

"WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?!" asks Kelly, in a high-pitched tone. "Huh? WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?! Well, I'll tell you who I am! I'm Kelly Connelly, future owner of this company! Manager to the greatest talent to ever set foot in the SWF, Max King! The Icon! Wrestling's Superman! The man who should be standing here as USJL CHAMPION! And you… presume to speak in this tone to him, and call me… a WHORE!" shouts Kelly, as Manson simply nods his head, further irritating her.

"Well, you CHEATED IN THAT MATCH!" screams Kelly.

"Manson didn't cheat once in his match versus King!" says Comet, rebutting Kelly. "She's absolutely delusional!"

"Kelly is a fine, upstanding woman!" replies Bobby. "If she says Manson cheated, then he cheated…" he says, as Comet just looks at him, and as he's about to say something, just gives up.

"There is NO WAY Max could've lost that match otherwise! And you… better give him that belt!" Kelly says, as she pokes the title with her finger and Manson brings his arms down, holding the belt by its strap. "Because if you DON'T do that right now, I'll remember this day when I'm in charge, and make sure that I FIRE your sorry ass!"

Manson simply looks at Kelly, and shakes his head from side to side, saying "No." as calmly as he possbly can at this point. Kelly huffs, completely infuriated, and she swings for Manson, trying to slap him across the face, but Manson catches her by the wrist! Kelly tries to escape Manson's grasp as he drops the belt to the ground, but in comes Max King through the crowd and into the ring, as he picks up a chair from ringside! King swings for Manson…

::CLANG!::

And connects with the back of Manson's head!

"King just snuck into the ring with a chair, striking Manson from behind with it! This is absolute madness!" shouts Comet frantically.

"BBBBBBBBOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

An absolute torrent of jeers rain down on King, as Manson goes down to a knee. Manson shakes his head and slowly stands back up, staggering as he turns around. King swings again, like a man possessed…

::CLANG!::

This time connecting square with Manson's face! Manson goes hits the mat, as King slams...

::CLANG!::

The chair...

::CLANG!::

::CLANG!!::

Into Manson's right knee repeatedly. King shouts something discriminatory at Manson as he holds his leg in pain and Kelly cackles, joining in the fun she bends down and slaps the prone Manson right across the face, paying him back for earlier! Max King grins sadistically, grabbing the legs of Manson and locking them into a figure four position, then lifting Manson up and finally sitting on his back, locking in the Texas Cloverleaf!

"Max King applying the Texas Cloverleaf on Manson, after a brutal assault with a chair! This is just WRONG! Where is security?" screams Comet, begging for some kind of order.

"Why would they bother to come out here? Kelly said it herself, Manson is nothing, and Max King is just teaching this bastard exactly what happens when you cheat him out of a title!" replies Riley.

King wrenches and rocks back as much and as hard as he can, driving the point home and allowing Kelly further opportunity to humilate Manson, as she screams at him incessantly. King finally releases Manson from the agonizing and devastating hold, as Kelly parades around the ring, clapping on King's behalf.

"MAX! KING! SUCKS!

"MAX! KING! SUCKS!"

Suddenly, King spies the belt laying in the middle of the ring near the fallen body of Manson, who lays on his side and clutches his knee, shouting and grimacing in pain. A gleam flashes in King's eyes and he raises his eyebrows, as he lifts up the belt. Holding it by its straps and examining it closer, King fixates on it, becoming hypnotized by the allure, before wrapping it around his waist, helped out by a grinning Kelly who snaps it into place. Kelly raises Max's arm, as he continues to look down at the title, and down at Manson, as King stands over him and shouts...

"This should be mine, you son of a bitch! You'll pay for cheating me out of this belt! You'll PAY!" King screams, as he unhooks the belt and drops it just out of Manson's reach. Manson continues to hold his leg, and as he does so, pounds mat in agonizing pain, as well as frusttration and anger as King's voice rings in his ears...

"MAX! KING! SUCKS!

"MAX! KING! SUCKS!"

Still, the derogatory chants directed at King continue, in fact having never stopped or slowed down throughout the final humiliation, as "Superstar" by Saliva hits the speakers. Max King and Kelly back away from Manson, eventually leaving the ring and staring at him as they head up the ramp. Manson tries to reach for the belt while tending to his knee, his celebrated homecoming now leaving a bitter taste.

"Disgusting, revolting actions taken by Max and Kelly tonight, going further than they ever have before. Manson has been as calm during this entire issue as he can be, but eventually Manson will reach his breaking point, and as those who've followed his career know, the results won't be pretty!" exclaims Comet.

"Says you, jerk. King took the only route.possible in his quest to get the title. What were the chances Manson would grant him another match? This was the only option for King, and I applaud him for it!"

"King's route employs being a sore loser and dirty sneak attacks? That's nothing befitting a champion of any sort! Manson has gotten the job done against King before, and he'll do it again!"

King and Kelly pose at the top of ramp, Max with his arms raised, Kelly embracing him, wide smiles plastered across their faces as we go to break...

Thoth · August 7, 2004

‘Grand Slam’ Mark Stevens walks through the corridors of the Pepsi Center on his way to the ring, saying hi to the crew as he goes. Everyone knows the former Commissioner and everyone has a kind word to share, but Mark’s smiles seem to lack a certain something tonight. He still has confidence in his own abilities but John Duran is a formidable opponent. A former World Champion. And, possibly most concerning, the relationship between the two men when Grand Slam was active as Commissioner was definitely not a good one. So as he starts to get closer to the entrance to the arena itself it isn’t surprising that Mark is a little preoccupied, and therefore doesn’t notice until the last second that there is someone standing by a vending machine on the corner.

“Well, well, well...” a familiar voice interrupts Grand Slam’s thoughts. Mark raises his head... and groans as he catches sight of the last person he wants to see right now.

“Evening Mark,” Toxxic continues, leaning against the machine with a can of ice-cold Coke in his hand. “How does it feel to be back on the circuit?”

“I’m going to take it one night at a time,” Mark replies levelly. “And I advise you to do the same thing.”

“Any why’s that?” Toxxic asks, raising his eyebrows.

“Because you’re carrying that around,” Mark tells him, jabbing a finger at the World Title draped over Toxxic’s shoulder. “Don’t go making any long-term plans, Toxxic. Everyone in the fed wants that belt, and they’ll go through you to get it.”

“They’re gonna have to!” Toxxic states flatly, but Stevens isn’t done.

“You don’t know what that belt means,” he tells the rookie. “You won’t for a while. You think that you’ve won it and that’s that - it doesn’t work that way. Winning it is one thing; holding onto it is quite another. And if there’s one thing about that title this year, it’s that holding onto it is very, very difficult.”

“Oh, you think so?” Toxxic fires back. “Well let me tell you something, ’Grand Slam’ - I’ve beaten the best this federation has to offer. Flesher? Beaten him. Danny Williams? Champion three times this year, and I’ve beaten him too. Kibagami? Retired him. Grappler’s gone, Duran is rusty, I beat Janus at the Pay-Per-View and he’s gone as well, Va’aiga’s gone, Dace has never beaten me... who do you think I’ve got to worry about?”

“Yourself,” Mark says. “You’re so damn arrogant you’re going to beat yourself in that ring, sooner or later.” He stops and looks at the smirking rookie. “What’s so funny?”

“Oh, nothing,” Toxxic replies, still grinning lopsidedly. “I just find it amusing, that’s all. You made that match with you and Flesher against me and Liston on your way out, just so you could finally get some revenge on me... and not only did I end up leaving you lying on the outside anyway, but that same match is the one that meant you’d fulfilled a stipulation in your contract allowing the Suicide King to return you to the active roster.” The new World Champion takes a long swig from his can and pushes himself off the vending machine. “Remember that, Mark; if you cross me, it’ll come back and bite you in the arse. Might not even be me who does it, either.” He takes one more swig, crumples the can in his fist and chucks it over his shoulder into the bin.

“Go off and play now Mark, like a good boy. But be careful of Duran - he doesn’t play nice.”

Mark scowls after the Straight-Edge Sensation as he walks off down the corridor, the returns his attention to preparing for his match. He can’t allow Toxxic to distract him.

“Ok then, John,” Mark mutters, swinging his right arm and flexing the elbow to warm it up a bit, “time to step up and find out why they call me the Heavy Hitter...”

Thoth · August 7, 2004

Storm explodes back into existence as the last commercials of the night fade away.

Comet: Boys and girls, ladies and gentlemen, young and old, smarks and marks alike, this is truly a historic evening for the SWF! One of the all-time greats returns to the ring tonight as "Grand Slam" Mark Stevens has his first singles match since April of 2002!

Riley: And don't forget to mention that he is being forced into active duty by the ever-insidious Suicide King, and that he is out-of-shape. I'm looking forward to watching that pompous blowhard get what's coming to him!

Comet: My snappy comeback will have to wait, as Citizen Funyon is in the ring!

Funyon: Ladies and Gentlemen, it is time for YOUR Main Event!!

The lights go out in the arena as bright white letters flash on the screen on a black background, guided by the opening words of Duran Duran's "Notorious."

"NO!

NO!

NOTORIOUS!"

Those words fade into Spineshank's "Synthetic," as Duran comes through the curtain and makes his way down to the ring.

Funyon: Introducing first, weighing in at 268 pounds and hailing from Champaign, Illinois, he is "The Notorious One"... JOHN DURAN!!

As he heads down the ramp, Duran looks at the fans with great distaste, like he's thinking how much of a shame it is they have to let these... people... in to watch him wrestle.

Duran gets up on the apron and enters the ring, going to the near turnbuckle and climbing to the top, throwing his arms up in the air with both middle fingers extended to incite the crowd some more. They respond with gusto, booing him heavily, many of them yelling things that are probably better off left to the imagination.

Riley: The Notorious One is back Comet, and I, for one, think this "show me your worthy" crap is outrageous. I bet Zenon's hoping Duran's neck gives out and he can be rid of him!

Comet: That is ridiculous Bobby, and I am offended that you would think of our Commissioner that way! he is above all of that!

Riley: Really... then that was what, his evil twin that sicced King on Grand Slam last Sunday?

The Notorious one drops off the ropes and turns to watch the entrance ramp, glaring at the spot his opponent will appear.

Then the lights go out... several seconds of hushed silence cause the crowd to become restless... they are clapping, talking, shouting, waving signs, waiting for whatever is about to happen...

::CRACK!!!::

The crowd, simply put, explodes!

The crack of a bat and the roar of the crowd announce Grand Slam!! It quickly fades into the opening bass of "Born Bad", his classic anthem. The SmarkTron lights up with baseball highlights mixed with big spots from Grand Slam's matches while flashing the words "Grand Slam", "Mark Stevens" and "The Heavy Hitter". The various multicolored lights flash in time with the rhythmic bass until the guitars crash and the lead singer cries out "Born Bad!", then the arena is flooded with bright white light!! Red and white pyro explodes at the top of the entrance ramp!! When the smoke clears and everyone can see again, "Grand Slam" Mark Stevens is standing underneath the SmarkTron!!! The crowd erupts in even more cheers for the Heavy Hitter!!!

Funyon: And his opponent, hailing from Lincoln, Nebraska and weighing in at 301 pounds... He is the Heavy Hitter... "GRAND SLAM" MARK STEVENS!!!

As Funyon makes his announcement, the Heavy Hitter walks down the ramp slowly, savoring every moment of cheers and pointing at various fans, slapping hands and keeping them screaming! Tonight, as the camera zooms in, he is wearing a Colorado Rockies baseball cap!! When the crowd sees this, they cheer even louder, nearly drowning out his music!! Grand Slam steps into the ring between the ropes and heads to a corner. He then climbs to the second turnbuckle, looks at the crowd, then pumps his right fist into the air several times, firing the crowd up even more and causing a flurry of flashbulbs to pop, illuminating the ring like a strobe-light!! Before dropping back to the mat, Grand Slam flings his cap out to the crowd, giving some lucky fan a unique souvenir from the SWF!!! Once the cap is sent out and the music dies, his face becomes deadly serious and he glares at his opponent as they wait for the bell.

Comet: The Heavy Hitter is back Bobby, and the fans are loving every minute of it! I'm not sure I've ever heard an ovation quite like this!

Bobby: Well enjoy it while you can you Spandex-clad goof, because tonight I am guaranteeing that John Duran is going to crush Mark Stevens!

As the ref quickly runs over the rules with the two combatants, Duran stretches and cracks his neck, looking at Grand Slam with the same condescending glare he previously focused on the fans. For his part, Grand Slam pulls off his varsity jacket and tosses it out of the ring to a tech guy and starts to hop back and forth on the balls of his feet. The ref sees that all is in order and signals to the timekeeper...

::DING DING DING::

Comet: And this match is underway!

The two men circle the ring a moment, then come together in the center of the ring with a collar-elbow lockup. Grand Slam digs in deep and pushes Duran back a step. John stomps his back foot and stops the momentum, pushing against Grand Slam, both men straining, trying to get an advantage.

Comet: These two are fairly evenly matched Robert, this could be a very back and forth match.

Bobby: Don't count on it Big Boy. Duran has the edge in one important area: he was expecting to be here wrestling tonight. He's been getting back into ring shape for months, preparing to resume his career while Grand Lame has been sitting on his ass and changing diapers.

Comet: I don't like the way you said it, but I can't disagree with you. If Grand Slam is going to pull out a win here he's going to have to take control early and put Duran away before endurance and conditioning become factors.

In the ring, as if he is able to hear Comet's words, Grand Slam quickly transitions into a hammerlock, dancing behind Duran. But the ring veteran is ready for such a common move and counters quickly, shifting his weight and driving Grand Slam backwards hard into the turnbuckles. Stevens seems to sag there for a moment, as if he has to tell his body that yes, it has always hurt that bad. Meanwhile Duran turns around, shaking any hurt out of his arms and delivers a powerful knee to Grand Slam's midsection!

As the ref starts the five count, Duran buries another knee in the Heavy Hitter's stomach, then another! The crowd is torn between booing Duran and trying to encourage Grand Slam. Duran grabs Grand Slam's arm and pulls him out of the corner, Irish whipping him diagonally across the ring into the turnbuckles chest first! The crowd lets out a sympathetic "Oof" as Grand Slam staggers out of the corner. Duran gets across the ring as fast as he can and lets Grand Slam back up towards him, then reaches under the Heavy Hitter's arms and goes for the Full Nelson!!

Riley: I know Grand Slam was outclassed here Comet, but I didn't think it would be over this quickly!

Comet: Neither did I Robert, but if Duran is able to pull off this Break Point, I doubt Grand Slam will be able to come back!

Stevens tries to pull his arms down and power out of the hold, but Duran lets out a yell and manages to lock his hands together behind Mark's neck! He pushes down on Grand Slam's neck with a vengeance, looking to all the world as if he is trying to break his neck. Then the Notorious One starts to rear back to pull his opponent off his feet, but Grand Slam, thinking fast, hooks his foot behind Duran's calf, blocking the move! Again, Duran tries to pull Grand Slam up but is blocked. But this time as Duran loosens the hold for a second, Grand Slam thrown his feet out in front of him and drops to his BUTT, sliding right out of the Full Nelson! Grand Slam tries to roll away from Duran, but the big man is too fast, kicking the Heavy Hitter hard in the spine and causing Stevens to arch his back and let out a scream of pain!

Comet: What a kick to the back by Duran!

Riley: No kidding CC, that will send a shock up your back and right into your head. I'd be shocked right now if Grand Slam didn't have a splitting headache right now!

Comet: This is one heck of a rude return to action for the former World Champion!

Duran looks to the stunned crowd and smirks, enjoying their discomfort as seeing their hero abused like this. With his right hand he grabs Grand Slam's hair and hauls him to his feet. Grand Slam looks woozy and barely able to stand, but Duran makes sure he's vertical long enough to pull him into a front facelock, grab a handful of tights and lift Stevens up... and holds him there perpendicular to the mat... one second... two... three...

Riley: My God Comet, look at the power of John Duran! Stevens was announced at over three hundred pounds, but Duran is holding him up there like he doesn't weigh a thing!

For five full seconds, The Notorious One holds Grand Slam high in the air then falls backwards, driving the Heavy Hitter hard into the mat with a powerful Stalling Brainbuster! Stevens crumples to the canvas in a heap, his eyes unfocused and his limbs loose in their sockets. Duran appears supremely confident as he gets to his feet and looks down at Stevens with barely disguised contempt. He shakes his head and wipes some sweat off his arms, flinging it at Grand Slam. With one hand he grabs Grand Slam's hair, uses the other to grab under his chin and guide the Heavy Hitter to his feet. Once there, Duran looks out to the crowd, points at Grand Slam, then draws the finger across his throat signaling the end of the match.

Riley: This match is over Comet!

Comet: Robert, I'm afraid you might be right. Grand Slam is just not in ring shape and he can't keep up with someone with the training regime of Duran.

Duran turns Grand Slam around, puts his shoulder in his back, flexes his legs and lifts Grand Slam into an inverted fireman's carry, setting him up for the Blunt Force Trauma! Duran bounces once and swings Mark's legs out behind him. But instead of pulling him down to the crushing finale, Grand Slam arches his back and scoots out of Duran's hold, landing on his feet behind the Sinner. Duran and Grand Slam both turn around to face each other, but this time it is the Heavy Hitter who gets in the first strike with a thunderous knife-edge chop to the chest of Duran! The crowd wakes up right now with a massive "Wooo"!! Another chop, another Woo! A kick to the stomach doubles Duran over!

Comet: It's not over yet! Grand Slam is a house of fire!!

Grand Slam pulls Duran into a front facelock, throws the Sinner's arm over his neck, grabs a handful of tights and throws Duran back with a stiff snap suplex! Duran starts to push himself off the mat, but is met by a suddenly energetic Heavy Hitter! Grand Slam grabs his arm, whips him into the ropes, bounce back, Grand Slam picks him up, spins him around and plants him on the mat with a prime-time spinebuster! The crowd is into it now, cheering every gesture Grand Slam makes! The former Commissioner pulls a stunned Duran up by the hair but the Sinner is ready for him and lashes out with a wicked hooking kick to the back of Grand Slam's left knee that drops him right to the canvas!

Comet: Citizen Duran is showing his cowardice there, just brutalizing Grand Slam's surgically repaired knee!

Riley: No way Cyke, he's showing his intelligence and ring saavy! He knows the old man has a weak spot, and he is going after it!

Comet: It's still dirty pool in my book Robert...

While the dynamic duo outside argue Duran's motivation, her is continuing the assault on Stevens with a series of hard kicks to the ribs and stomps to the back and neck. Finally, he pulls the Heavy Hitter to his feet and whips him into the ropes, bounce back, and the Sinnner just mauls Stevens with a running forearm that drops him! Duran has no more bragging to do, no more little insults to the crowd as his focuses all of his rage and venom on one man and pulls him to his feet, then whips him with authority into the corner back first! Grand Slam again arches his back to alleviate the pain a little and staggers out of the corner, but Duran punishes him with a hard tackle and drives him back into the corner!! Grand Slam is trying to catch his breath as Duran rams a shoulder into his abdomen once, twice, thrice! Duran backs off a few steps, builds up a head of steam to just obliterate Grand Slam once and for all with another running tackle, but the Heavy Hitter has been here before! On instinct, he lifts his right leg up and catches Duran right in the jaw, dropping him backwards to the mat! Grand Slam staggers out of the corner and falls forward across Duran!!

The ref drops to the mat...

One...

Comet: The pinfall! This could be it!

Two...

Riley: No way it ends like this! No way!!

Th... NO!! Duran kicks out hard, sending Grand Slam a foot or two away in the ring! Both men stay where they are, Grand Slam desperately trying to catch his breath and shake some cobwebs loose, Duran rubbing his jaw and checking his teeth!

Comet: Grand Slam almost had him there Robert!

Riley: Only by luck Comet. Duran has been on Grand Slam like white on rice this match, and there is no way he is walking out of here without a W.

The ref gets to his feet and starts the ten count. He doesn't even get to four before Duran, murder in his eyes, gets to his feet and walks over to the slow-to-recover Heavy Hitter. He pulls him to his feet and smashes his face with a rude right hand! This seems to snap Grand Slam out of his stunned state, and he returns the right with one of his own! Right by Duran! Right by Grand Slam! Duran breaks the chain by stepping into range and driving a hard knee right into the Heavy Hitters stomach! Back in control, Duran pushes Grand Slam back into the ropes, then whips him hard across the ring! Bounce back, Duran strides forward and throws out the arm for a clothesline, but Grand Slam scouts it! With the electric crowd going ballistic, Slammer steps around behind Duran and locks in the Full Nelson! Duran realizes what is happening, but before he can do anything, Grand Slam pops his hips and drives Duran up and over, bringing him down hard on his shoulders and neck!!

Comet: Reversal into a Dragon Suplex! Could it be??

Riley: Lord, let's hope not...

Grand Slam rolls to his side and powers to his feet, dragging a helpless Duran with him, keeping the Full Nelson cinched in tight! As soon as they are both to their feet, the Heavy Hitter pulls Duran off his feet and sits out, jarring Duran's spine with the impact! The crowd, knowing this sequence now, pops like a firecracker doused in gasoline!!

Comet: He's turned two!

Riley just groans...

Once more, red-faced with exertion, Stevens pulls Duran up to his feet, maintaining the hold. With supreme effort, Grand Slam pulls Duran off his feet one more time, stepping forward and throwing him down face first into the mat!!

Comet: That's three! Grand Slam completes the Triple Play with the Grand Slam! Duran is on the ropes now!!

Riley: Good Lord... isn't there something we can do, some petition we could sign, to get him to not make us call that ridiculous sequence?

The crowd is going nuts now, cheering and chanting "Grand Slam" over and over! In the ring though, Grand Slam is sucking wind, trying to get his breath back as Duran slowly recovers on the mat. Finally, Duran pushes himself to his feet, but Grand Slam is ready for him!! A toe kick to the gut doubles the Notorious One over. Grand Slam grabs him by the hair and pulls him into a standing head scissors while spinning his right hand in a circle over his head!!

Comet: He's signaling for the Walk-Off!! If he hits it...

Riley: As much as I hate to admit it Comet, you're right! The list of guys that have gone down after a Walk-Off reads like a who's-who of the SWF!!

The crowd hasn't forgotten the signal, and if they were going nuts before, this prods them to full funky-monkey-after-fourteen-hours-of-"Dukes of Hazzard"-insane!!!

Grand Slam pulls Duran's arms into the double underhook... but Duran isn't out of it yet! He powers one arm out of the hook, then the other! Grand Slam is frantically trying to grab them again, but Duran has too much left in the tank, and back body drops Grand Slam up over the top rope and right out of the ring!! Grand Slam lands right in front of the announce table with a massive THUMP! and lays still. The crowd goes suddenly quiet. Duran turns and steps between the ropes, then drops to the floor.

Comet: Oh no... Robert... what's he going to do?

Riley: John Duran has something to prove tonight Comet! he has to prove that not only does he belong back in the SWF, he has to prove he belongs right back where he was: contending for the World Heavyweight Title! And he's going to do that by making Grand Slam wish he had never bothered showing up for this match tonight!

Comet: He didn't have a choice! He was forced to wrestle and you know it!

Riley: So much the better Comet... so much the better...

Grand Slam is using the ring to pull himself to his feet as Duran approaches. He throws a chop at the Sinner's chest, but there isn't anything behind it! As Duran brushes off the chop and laughs at Grand Slam, the ref implores him to bring the match back into the ring. Duran ignores him (of course) and pulls Grand Slam in close, wrapping his massive arms around him, then throws him backwards with a picture perfect belly-to-belly suplex! Grand Slam flops onto the thin mat, barely conscious, and skips a foot or so. As Duran stalks his prey, the ref rolls out of the ring and begins begging Duran to lay off. The Sinner takes a moment to debate that course of action with the official (by insulting his heritage), then calmly walks by him to tower over a prone Grand Slam. He pulls the Heavy Hitter to his feet and turns him around, grabs his throat with a huge paw, lifts Stevens up and delivers him to the not-so-comforting embrace of the ringside mat.

Riley: What a chokeslam by the Notorious One!! I've seen gentler shark attacks!

Comet: Citizen Duran needs to do the right thing here and let the ref count Grand Slam out! This is beyond the pale!

Riley: What about John Duran ever made you think he was the least bit interested in doing the right thing?

Duran doesn't let up and pulls Grand Slam to his feet without giving the ref a chance to check him. He lifts him up into a torture rack, throws Stevens' feet out and falls back... WHAM!!

Bobby: Blunt Force Trauma!! Blunt Force Trauma on the outside!!!

Comet: My God Robert... Grand Slam could be out! He could be seriously injured!

Grand Slam hits the mat so hard he jolts upright, staggers forward a step, then collapses against the ringside steps. Duran gets to his feet, soaking in the bile the crowd is hurling at him, and sees Grand Slam propped up as if he were placed there for a reason. And the sick, twisted mind of "The Notorious One" John Duran knows that reason. Without hesitation he charges forward and drives his knee into the side of Grand Slam's head, crushing it against the steps!! Duran steps backwards to see the ref ordering him back in the ring, else he face a DQ. Grand Slam slumps forward, not moving.

Comet: The ref is just now threatening a DQ? This is a miscarriage of justice! This is just criminal!

Riley: Would you threaten someone who looks like Duran with anything? Personally, I'm surprised he didn't just award him the match right out!

Duran, confident that he has done his job, rolls into the ring and starts to gesture to the crowd, inciting them to near riot! The ref starts the countout, hoping to end this match before any more carnage can occur. As he hits three, the camera catches Grand Slam as he tries to roll over. There is a bright red smear all down his face turning his visage into the proverbial crimson mask!

Comet: Good God Robert, Mark Stevens is busted open. He is bleeding badly... we might need medical assistance out here.

Riley: The match isn't over yet Comet!

The ref is on seven. Duran is making the international "I want the belt" gesture as the fans start to pepper the ring with empty cups and wads of paper. On eight, Grand Slam tries desperately to pull himself up by tugging on the ring apron. On nine, he loses his grip and falls backwards, bleeding and exhausted. On ten, the ref motions to the timekeeper and raises Duran's hand.

Funyon: (his voice is quiet and sad sounding) ladies and Gentlemen, your winner by count-out... The Notorious One, John Duran!

Duran raises both arms high above his head and lets out a primal scream of rage as medical personnel swarm past the ring from backstage!

Comet: This is not the way this should have ended Robert! This is wrong!

Riley: Sometimes bad things happen to good people Comet. And sometimes those bad things look one hell of a lot like John Duran!

Comet: Fans, this has been an eventful night, and I am sure the repercussions of this will echo around the SWF for weeks to come, as we build to the granddaddy of them all... GENESIS V! For Robert Riley and all of the crew, Goodnight!

The camera lingers on a shot of the medical staff helping Grand Slam to his feet and pressing a wad of sterile gauze against his wound, while in the background, still in the center of the ring, John Duran keeps his arms raised like a conquering hero.

FADE

SWF: Raising Wokrate by Typing Faster

Thoth · August 7, 2004

"I'm the head of the class! I'm popular!"

"Oh, Jesus Christ," moans Cyclone Comet.

Indeed, Storm is BACK, live in Denver, Colorado, and upon our return we are greeted by the surprisingly chipper Mike Van Siclen strutting down the ramp, pointing at some of the raucously booing fans before sliding into the ring. He quickly reaches out for a mic, and a friendly attendant hands it to him. Van Siclen grabs it and goes to speak, but he is stopped by a familiar chant...

"YOU GOT JOBBED! YOU GOT JOBBED!"

"Yeah, yeah, it was by count out, you can let it go now."

The crowd boos, but the chant is quickly replaced by a new one.

"YOU GOT JOBBED!"

"TO A GIRL!"

"YOU GOT JOBBED!"

"TO A GIRL!"

"I've let it go, man. It was by countout."

"YOU GOT JOBBED!"

"TO A GIRL!"

"Yeah, shut your damn mouths."

The fans cheer this wildly, knowing that they've gotten under Van Siclen's skin, and the Spectacle fumes a bit. He quickly regains his composure, though, and raises the microphone once more.

"So I'm out here tonight because, as you can see, the Tag Team championship -- which does rightly belong to me, whether you bunch of boobs want to believe it or not..."

"YOU GOT JOBBED!"

"TO A GIRL!"

"YOU GOT JOBBED!"

"TO A GIRL!"

Van Siclen growls a bit, but he patiently waits for the chant to die down a bit before continuing.

"... anyway, my Tag Team championship is still missing from my waist. I've already spoken with Mr. Zenon, and he has said that if I do not get it back tonight there will be hell to pay for the Masked Man."

"T M M! T M M!"

"Yeah, you want to see him out here? So do I. Masked Man, get out here right now, and make sure you've got my belt with you!"

A pause...

"FIRE IN THE DISCO!"

"Danger! (High Voltage)" by the Electric Six kicks up, and the crowd goes absolutely wild as the Masked Man and Todd Cortez, 42nd Street, make their way through the curtain, Tag belts around their respective waists! The fans go absolutely nuts as the two men walk down the ramp, Masked Man unstrapping the belt from around his waist and slinging it over his shoulder. Cortez and TMM enter the ring, and Mask snatches the mic away from Van Siclen, looking to say a few words of his own.

"Well, Mike, you say you want your belt back..."

TMM takes the belt off his shoulder, offering it out to Van Siclen, who quickly takes it back! The crowd boos wildly, NOT much liking this turn of events, as Van Siclen slings the belt over his own shoulder. A smug smile now on his face, Van Siclen goes to grab the mic away -- but The Masked Man holds onto it! He raises it to his lips, beginning to speak.

"I do hope, Michael, that you won't forget the two defences I made, one against Spike Jenkins and Sean Davis, the other against Andrea Montgomery and the Birdman..."

Van Siclen has by this point gotten a new microphone, and he replies with an arrogant tone -- "I won't forget, Masked Man, and trust me when I tell you that Hollywood Boulevard is forever in your debt."

Todd Cortez can't help but smirk at this, but he quickly goes back to his poker face as Masked Man stares daggers at Van Siclen. "I do hope you're ready, because you know that Revolution Zero will be coming for those belts..."

"Revolution who?"

"... and I'm pretty sure that Andrea Montgomery..."

The crowd is roaring, and all three men seem a bit taken aback by this. Masked Man keeps going, though...

"... and the Birdman will be coming, too."

*WHAM!*

A huge wing to the back of Van Siclen's head, as the Birdman and Andrea Montgomery slide into the ring! The crowd goes absolutely wild as Van Siclen falls to the mat, the tag title sliding off his arm and skidding across the mat! Masked Man wants no part of Team Flip Flop, and he looks to bail, but as Todd Cortez dives in against the Birdman, Masked Man goes in to help him out by going after Andrea Montgomery! Van Siclen gets to his feet, shoving Masked Man out of the way and landing a huge blow to Montgomery's forehead, and the two spar for a little bit. It's three-on-two in the ring, the tide turning in 42nd Street/Hollywood Boulevard's favor, when suddenly...

*CLANG*

“Who is that?!” says Bobbie as a young man with a chair absolutely DECKS MVS in the back of the head.

“I have no idea, Bobbie! My Cyclone Sense is tingling like crazy!”

“Since when do you have a Cyclone Sense?”

“Since the SWF Merchandising Team couldn’t think up enough catchphrases for my action figure to say.”

The crowd thunders to life at the newcomer picking up the right side, and Cortez quickly moves in to help his partner. The rookie gives a wild swing of the chair, but Todd dodges and shoots off a hard counter-punch in the face, knocking the young lad backwards. He moves in for another big punch, but another face enters the ring, and a very unexpected face at that.

“BOOOOOO!”

The crowds disapproval is almost unanimous as Judge William Hearford appears behind the mysterious hero! Cortez is a bit surprised at the sudden clusterfuck that is starting up, but the hesitation allows Bill to give him a taste of his own medicine, socking him with a big right hook!

*WHACK*

A surprised Cortez stumbles backwards, and right into a waiting Team Flip-Flop, who hooks both his legs and drops him in a big double backdrop combo! The crowd explodes into cheers, and in all the confusion the Masked Man manages to bail from the ring. He reaches in and pulls out his 42nd Street Partner, helping him up as they make their escape along the side…

… But not before TMM takes MVS’s Title Belt for safe keeping!

“Forget the belt, damn it, save MVS!” whines Bobbie as the two dash up the ramp, leaving the former compatriot at the mercy of the four in the ring.

In the ring, MVS slowly begins to get back off the mat, his head swimming after the surprise chairshot. He turns around, right into Hearford and the young man. Hearford quickly lifts him into a flapjack as the young man gets on a facelock…

*WHAM*

“Gavel Bang! Gavel Bang!” cries Comet, elated for the first time ever to see the move, “The mysterious man and Justice just Gavel Banged Van Siclen!”

“What-what-what is going on?! Where’s Ejiro?! Who is that kid?!”

The Masked Man and Cortez stop at the top of the ramp, watching the crowd-pleasing carnage with blank face and mask. Even after that, though, the violence isn’t done as Birdman and Andrea go towards the ropes on the opposite sides of the ring. Andrea jumps onto the Apron, as does Birdman, pointing with both arms to opposite sides of the arena. They quickly leap up onto the top ropes and springboard off, Birdman backflipping in as Andrea nails a 450 Splash! The demolished MVS doesn’t move as the two teams look at each other for a second: Are Birdman and Andrea going to be the next victims of this surprise pairing, or are the Judge and his new partner in for a beating? The Birdman, perhaps not knowing the Judge as well as the other two in the ring, is the first to make a move: An extend palm. The crowd gives a worried murmur as Hearford confidently steps up…

…grabs the hand…

…and shakes it WITHOUT incident! Andrea offers a handshake to the kid, who kindly accepts it as well, and a huge pop comes up from the crowd. At the top of the ramp, TMM and Cortez watch for a moment before TMM decides to leave, pulling a slightly reluctant Cortez along with him: They might have avoided the worst beating tonight, but they are still marked men in the Tag Division.

“A set up! That dirty, dirty rat! The Masked Man is gonna pay for this!”

“Set up or no, this is definitely a twist and a half! It looks like 42nd Street and Hollywood Boulevard have made two more enemies instead of one!”

The crowd cheers as the two teams meet and converse in the ring for a moment, the crowd calming down to some confused and worried murmurs as the two teams begin to talk in the center of the ring. What’s next after the handshake? After a few moments, though, both Birdman and Andrea nod in agreement exit the ring to a huge cheer.

“FLIP!” “FLOP!” “FLIP!” “FLOP!”

The chant echoes across the arena as tag team walks up the ramp. As they exit, a few stage crew members decide to pull Mike out of the ring, helping the nearly knocked out wrestler down towards the service exit at the side of the ramp. Meanwhile, Hearford walks over to the mic dropped by his former pupil, pacing the ring for a moment before deciding to speak…

“I’m… I’m sure you all remember who I am…” Hearford starts out, his voice oddly solemn at the moment. Indeed, with Team Flip Flop no longer in the ring, the cheers have turn to boos; it’s hard to forget a man who was part of the greatest tag team terror that ever graced the SWF. “And, I can understand why you all hate me. I deserve it all, I’m sure.”

“Indeed he does,” says Comet righteously, “The man has cheated, lied, and connived with the worst of them. If I had half a mind-“

“Thank God you don’t,” interrupts Riley sarcastically as Hearford prepares to go on.

“Ever since I came to the SWF, I’ve always had trouble sleeping; I’ve dreamt about my demons, about my failures, about all my troubles past and present. When I joined the Magnificent 7-” -Huge boos, but Hearford doesn’t get phased and continues- “-I thought I was correcting those mistakes, getting back to where I belonged. But even then, I couldn’t sleep well. Even when I was at the top of the Tag Team Division, Main Eventing Genesis IV, I couldn’t sleep. My troubles refused to go away. And when I saw Tom Flesher win, with all of Madison Square Garden cheering him on, something in me clicked…” He hangs his head low for a moment.

“Something told me that I was the one who was wrong, not Tom for abandoning the Magnificent 7. I went back to tagging with Ejiro; as long as I was with Ejiro, I felt confident with what I was doing. But then, back in December, right at the height of Justice and Rule’s” -Another wave of boos- “-second title reign, I was injured. My shoulder was severely dislocated, and I almost was forced to give up wrestling.”

“By the time I was back in the ring, Ejiro was gone; already a World Champion and retired. I was alone again, right back at the bottom, and I still couldn’t sleep. I could barely wrestle with my shoulder, but it was the only thing that kept me from thinking about my problems, about everything that had happened to me and everything that was still happening. In this last month, my shoulder took a turn for the worst, but I kept pushing myself, and I kept losing. Until few weeks ago…” He brings his head up again.

“I won had just won a tag match with the new World Champion, Toxxic. After the ring cleared, he made me an offer to be the advisor to Revolution Zero.”

Once again, the crowd boos madly, but at least it isn’t for Hearford.

“I thought about it, and the next night, I said that I would accept it wholeheartedly. It was a return to my old life, a life away from the voice that was telling me that I was wrong, that I was at fault for everything happening in my life. And then…”

He hangs his head down again for a moment, and the crowd goes a bit silent; the man in front of them, no matter how much they hated him, he seems almost broken.

“It all came crashing down. Revolution Zero laughed at me, they called me a has-been, a failure, and left me to bleed in the middle of the ring in front of the whole world. And it was then, when they were taking me out on the stretcher, I finally began to listen to that voice.”

“I don’t like where this is going…’ says Bobbie, with a worried face.

“I… I was doing everything wrong. I wasn’t solving my problems; I was only covering them up, avoiding them. I was running away from them like a child, and they kept following me until I finally collapsed. I realized that this isn’t who I really am, or who what I really wanted. I needed to fix what I had done, and I needed to leave a lasting mark on the Federation. A mark I could be proud of. But in my current condition, I’m not cleared to wrestle, so I had to pick an apprentice.” He motions to his associate.

“This is Justin Bowers, my new apprentice. From now on, I’m going to be his manager and teach him everything I know about wrestling, so that he might carry and do better than I did on when I was here. We came out here tonight and helped Birdman and Ms. Montgomery in an effort to win your trust, and while that might not be enough, I hope it is enough to show you that I’m now on the road to redemption.”

All that can be heard from the Denver crowd is quiet and distrustful murmuring; this one little incident is certainly not enough to get one to trust such a horrible villain. But Hearford leaves it up for the crowd to ponder as he and Bowers leave the ring to little reaction.

“An interesting turn of events…” notes Comet, “Could Justice truly be trying to live up to his namesake now?”

“God damn, I hope not! This has to be some sort of ploy...” replies Bobbie confidently, but says after the fact, “… I hope.”

And on that note, the cameras watch Hearford and the newcomer Justin Bowers walk silently up the ramp and we…

*FADE TO BLACK*

Edited August 7, 2004 by realitycheck

SWF Storm

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