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SWF Frost Pre-PPV Show



Stryke vs. Sean Davis vs. Jimmy the Doom vs. Christian Fury vs. Arch Griffon vs. An Octopus vs. Matt "Hobbes" Myers


---> A year ago this week, the SWF held Calvinball II. Widely considered by everyone except Thoth to be a smashing success, we're bringing it back! Six men (one of whom will be wearing a poorly constructed Hobbes outfit - and yes, Janus is in the building) and one Octopus will enter the arena as contenders - only one will leave as the Champion of Calvinball III!


Rules: Ha!




??? vs. "Big Country" Martin Hunt


---> QUESTION MARK MAN RETURNS! Making his 431847232794th appearance in the SWF, QMM will go one on one against "Big Country" Martin Hunt - is it his debut? Has he been here before? Will the revealing of his identity shatter the universe into a million different splinter universes due to the sheer raw power of his presence? MAYBE.


Rules: Standard singles match.



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“It’s not our problem.”


The distinct rumble of the Hell Machine is the first noise since thirty seconds ago, when JJ Johnson asked “So, what are we doing about Calvinball?”. The SWF’s head of security had taken that long to ponder it, and as Johnosn doesn’t talk much anyway, and Hiroshi Hojo is conspicuous in his absence, it’s very, very quiet in that particular forgotten corner of the America West Arena.


“Not our problem?” asks Johnson, “Calvinball gets pretty chaotic. I don’t know why security won’t have anybody there.”


Janus allows himself a slight chuckle. “No, you don’t understand. I didn’t say it wasn’t our problem. I said it wasn’t our problem.” A quick glance at the eyes of the mammoth Antipodean, and Johnson understands completely. “If you’re so worried about it,” continues the giant, “you take care of it.”


Johnson nods, and starts striding away, and over the clack of his boots, the Hell Machine hears some slight muttering.


“Damn, I’ve really got to get his pronouns straight.”











Matt Myers is a sight to see coming back down the hallway, arms waving wildly about, jewelry bouncing everywhere as he rams the tip of his cane into the ground before picking it up again and taking a few more steps, bobbing his head and looking extraordinarily white along the way. He’s drawing more than a few funny looks from various SWF setup people; finally, one speaks up.


“Matt, what are you doing?” asks Gus the cameraman, drawing an incredulous look from the Jive Soul Brother.


“Why, brother, I gots to get to Calvinball!” exclaims Matt “Hobbes” Myers, which doesn’t do anything to dissuade the bizarre looks he’s getting.


“Why…why are you dressed like that?” inquires David Blazenwing.


“Sheeit, dontcha know? I’m Hobbes, superfly! Now if you’ll excuse a player, I gotta get dis show on the road!” says Myers, obviously quite offended by Blazenwing and Gus’ lack of street cred.


“Dude, Hobbes was a tiger,” says Gus. Myers freezes. Impossible. A tiger?


“You sure? I thought Hobbes was a pimp,” says Myers, abandoning his jive accent completely as his shoulders begin to fall.


“Yeah, he was a tiger. A stuffed tiger,” corrects Gus, as Blazenwing nods in agreement behind him.


“I thought he was an actual tiger that was Calvin’s friend?” responds Matt.


“That was never cleared up in the strip,” informs Blazenwing.


“Shit!” shouts Myers before turning on his heels and sprinting back down the hall towards his locker room, “Ced had that meeting with Janus, I thought the tiger costume was so he could suck up to him!” “Hobbes” dashes around the corner, hopping on one foot for a moment before charging down towards his locker room…and then he freezes, and a vision comes into his head.


Myers makes his usual entrance into the locker room; that is, he slides in like Kramer while doing his thumbs in the typical Fonzie “AYYYY!” style before announcing “DY-NO-MITE!” Sure, the combination of Seinfeld, Happy Days, and Good Times confuses and annoys the boys in the back, but it makes him feel hip. This time, however, he only gets to ‘DY-NO’…




…before a fist shoots out of the shadows and buries itself in his jaw, the unfortunate enhancement talent dropping like a stone before the assailant steps over his unconscious form and begins jogging towards Calvinball.


In the corner of the locker room, a lone tear runs down Ced Ordonez’ cheek.


“Oh my God!” exclaims Hobbes as his vision ends, “I’m in danger!”


“I’ve got to warn Ced!”


With that, Myers charges down the hall again, nearly mauling Heff as he reaches the door and shoves it open. Myers makes his usual entrance into the locker room, with the slide, and the thumbs, and the DY-NO-




And those who ignore the past are doomed to repeat it, as JJ Johnson, just as in the vision, shoves his fist through Myers face before stepping over the fallen jobber with a snort and leaving the locker room…then coming back and burying a kick into the side of his head before leaving again.


In the corner of the locker room, a lone tear runs down Ced Ordonez’ cheek.

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The camera fades into the sold out America West Arena in beautiful Phoenix, Arizona and we come back to SWF Frost and the voice of Cyclone Comet rings out over the airways as the arena pans the cheering throngs of SWF fans.


"Welcome back to SWF FROOOOOOOOOOOOOST~!," exclaims Comet as King just sighs well the former superhero continues. "To kick off the action tonight, we have the struggling Martin 'Big Country' Hunt taking on a mystery man, who we've been told is a returning former SWF star. Do you have any thoughts on who it could be King?"


"Hmmmm," begins King. "Ya' know, I don't care. We have so much to look forward to tonight like Wildchild getting his ass kicked in a cage and ELM finally exposing Wes Davenport as the fraud he is that I think I'm going to finish my bracket for the NCAA pool."


"You have to be joking with me, King," responds Comet.

"So, do you really think Winthrop can take out Tennessee in the first round?"

"Let's go to Funyon in the ring."


"The following match is scheduled for one fall with a twenty minute time limit," begins Funyon as the crowd cheers the beginning of action. "Introducing first..."


'A Country Boy Can Survive' plays by Hank Williams Jr as Martin "Big Country" Hunt struts out to the ring proudly wearing his fraternity's letters, blue jeans, and boots that look fresh for kicking ass. He smirks at the crowd and mocks various fans in attendance before entering the ring.


"...at a weight of two hundred and twenty pounds from Boone, North Carolina, "MAAAAAARTIN "BIG COUNTRY" HUUUUUUUNT!"


The cliche frat boy that he is, Hunt sneers at the crowd as they shower him with boos.


“His opponent...”


The lights go dim and a slight strobe effect begins as the crowd buzzes a bit.


“...he stands six foot five inches tall and weighs in at 269 pounds! Originally from Oil City, Pennsylvania, he now resides in Salem, Oregon! Please welcome back to the SWF a former tag team champion...DAAAAAAVID CROSS~!”




'S*kt It Up' by (hed) PE screams over the PA as the crowd cheers for the returning former 'Fallen Angel.' As the song continues, Cross walks out on an SWF ramp for the first time in over a year to a big pop as he raises his black-gloved fist to the air as he comes to the ring. Cross looks much the same as he did when he last came was in the SWF. Same leather jacket, same black hair, same five o'clock shadow, and the same cross around his neck. He slaps a few hands as he comes down to the ring and rolls in the ring and raises his arms to another loud pop as he begins his pre-match ritual.


“How about this, King?” asks Comet as Cross hands off his jacket and cross to a ring attendant. “David Cross had a mixed career in the SWF, but looks to be in great shape to make an in-ring return for justice~!”


“He was a loser when he was in SJL and an even bigger one in the SWF Comet,” responds King. “He had to be carried by Christian Fury of all people to a meaningless tag reign and ran out of the SWF before Sean Davis could kick his ass from one side of the ring to the other.”


Cross turns his back to Hunt for a moment raising his fist to the crowd and 'Big Country' takes this opportunity to pounce, drilling the larger Cross square in the back with a big forearm! Hunt goes right to work on Cross drilling him with a right hand, then as the referee admonishes him strikes Cross right in the kisser with another big right hand as the crowd expresses it displeasure! Hunt with a smirk goes for another shot, but Cross blocks it and drills the North Carolina native with a big elbow to the forehead that sends Hunt sprawling to the mat!


“I don't think 'Big Country' will able to handle a brawl with the much larger Cross, no matter how many beer-fueled brawls he's been involved in with his fellow frat brothers,” Comet says as Cross picks Hunt off the mat.


“Ah, fraternities,” muses King. “The girls, the illicit drugs, the uncomfortable latent homosexuality...er – brotherhood. I meant brotherhood.”


“Of course you did,” chuckles Comet as Cross delivers a few solid forearm shots to the forehead and face of Martin Hunt as stumbles back into the corner, slumping down a bit. The former 'Fallen Angel' doesn't miss a beat and sends Hunt into the corner with great velocity and as Hunt comes bouncing out of the corner, David sends him back crashing to the mat head over heels with a vicious running elbow as the crowd cheers the actions of Cross!


“David showing why he was such a force in the few months he was in the SWF, overwhelming Martin Hunt with his power,” Comet says as Hunt tries to collect himself.


“Hunt's a big boy and has taken beatings from men with a lot more talent Comet,” King retorts.


Martin woozily returns to a vertical base, only to get nailed with a kick in the gut and locked in a front chancery hold. After a moment, the two hundred and seventy pound powerhouse takes Hunt over and drops him straight into the mat with a perfectly executed vertical suplex! As the crowd cheers, Cross pulls up Martin and wraps his large arms around Big Country's waist and then picks him up, sending him head first into the turnbuckles with a devestating release belly-to-belly suplex as the crowd goes wild!


“David Cross has been very impress here in the early portions of this match, showing no quarter to Martin Hunt and the young man from Pennsylvania has to feel confident,” exclaims Comet.


“So he watched some Ring of Honor tapes when he was out of the SWF. Big woop,” responds King. “It's not like he's beating up on Sean Davis or anything.”


Cross stalks Hunt as he slowly rises back to his feet and as the crowd cheers absolutely nails Hunt with a big forearm to the jaw! David follows that up with a knee strike right to the mush again and as the crowd buzzes, he grabs 'Big Country' in a gutwrench and sends him back first to the mat with a huge gutwrench suplex! Cross grabs the near leg and pins Hunt as the referee begins his count...ONE...TWO...KICKOUT!


“See, that is why Cross is coming back to the SWF jerking the curtain and if others came back, they'd get PPV main events,” King says. “Ring savvy. Some do, most don't and Cross defintley belongs in the latter group.”


“Because in all your years of experience, you've never went for a pinfall earlier than you should have,” asks Comet?


“Well, it was always part of a long-term strategy with myself of course,” King says as Cross pulls Hunt back up to a vertical base via the back of his neck. However, Cross is momentarily shocked thanks to an eye poke from Hunt, and 'Big Country' takes advantage of that and delivers a quick kick to the gut and then drops David to the mat for the first time in the match with a DDT!


“Martin Hunt unfortunately having to go with deceit and treachery to gain an advantage over David Cross,” Comet says. “I would think that is against the ethics of a brotherhood such as a fraternity?”


“Um, Comet...” begins King, a bit uneasy. “Have you been to a frat house...umm...ever. Las Vegas is a more moral place than most of them.

“You would know about debauchery and sin, King,” replies Comet.


“Well...yeah. I would, wouldn't I?” King replies as Hunt delivers a few stomps to the fallen angel, in this case literally as Hunt comes off the ropes and delivers a big kneedrop right to the skull of Cross as the crowd jeers 'Big Country.' Hunt kneels down to attempt some sort of submission move on Cross, but David surprises Martin with an easy reversal of the bodyscissors, sliding out of it and immediately taking Hunt down to the mat with a modified armbar! Hunt quickly gets to the ropes, and Cross cleanly breaks as the crowd cheers.


“Cross showing some of the ground 'n' pound training he may have received in his time off from professional wrestling, easily taking down Martin Hunt,” Comet says. “Who knows what else he has learned in his travels?”


“He reversed one move and executed one manuever,” replies King. “Let's not declare him JJ Johnson's heir apparent quite yet.”

“That is true King, but if Cross has improved his technical game, he would be quite the force in the SWF.”

“If is a big word Comet. After all, what if Landon Maddix wasn't a numbskull? I might actually like the punk.”


As King puts over his hatred of Landon Maddix again, Hunt and Cross both return to their feet and get into a collar and elbow lock up. Cross gains the advantage and puts his smaller opponent into a headlock, put Hunt pushes him off and sends him into the ropes. Hunt goes for a clothesline, but Cross ducks under and after coming off the far rope, bowls Hunt over with a big flying shoulderblock, also known as THE POUNCE~! As the crowd cheers the move, Cross goes into the corner and gets into a crouch and waits for Hunt to return to his feet. As Big Country stumbles to his feet and drunkenly spins around, Cross explodes out of the corner and nails Hunt right in the face wit a huge...


“...ROAAAAAAAAAAAARING ELBOW~!” cries Comet as Cross goes for the pin again...











“David Cross just absolutely decimated Martin Hunt with that Roaring Elbow and his eyes are glazed over and he seems completely out of it, King!,” Comet says. “Is there any way Hunt can get back into this match?”


“He has to be smart,” replies King. “Hit and run, stick and move. You aren't going to overpower a guy who outwreighs you by fifty pound. Plus, he could just hit him in the head with a ring bell or something when the ref is distracted.”


The big man picks up Hunt by the scruff of his neck and as the crowd pop, Cross drives a knee right into the sternum of Hunt. As Martin is doubled over, Cross backs off a step, then drives a knee right into the forehead of 'Big Country!' Then, as the crowd goes wild, Cross finishes Hunt off with a big crescent kick knocking Hunt flat on his back! Cross raises his fist to the air as the crowd continues to cheer for their hero and pulls Hunt up again, but 'Big Country' has the presence of mind to low blow Cross!


“What a despicable manuever by Martin Hunt,” Comet says as Cross falls to the mat in pain and Hunt shakily rises to his feet. “Can he not face David Cross on the level?”


“Obviously not,” King says. “So, if you can't beat someone fair, nail 'em in their reporoductive organs. Just like my Pappy always told me.”

“You're father did not tell you to do that Suicide King,” replies Comet.


“He would've if I asked!” King retorts as Hunt stomps the fallen Cross a few times as the crowd boos the fraternity member. 'Big Country' then pulls up Cross and delivers another quick strike to the gut, and then pulls him up and over and to the mat with a huuuuuuge vertical suplex as the crowd continues to boo loudly. Still, a little shaky Hunt slowly moves to the ropes and climbs up. He then does a little wiggle and dives off the top and...


“...CROSS MOVES! Martin Hunt went for the Donkey Punch and it cost him dearly,” Comet exclaims as the crowd goes nuts as both men slowly make their way to his feet.


“Well, there goes that being smart idea,” muses King as both men get to their feet and meet in the center of the ring. Hunt rushes Cross, but the big man is ready for it and takes Hunt right down to the mat with a big spinebuster! Then, Cross sends Hunt to the ropes and delivers him right to the mat with a big, nasty POWERSLAM as the crowd continues to go mad. He then goes into the corner and crouches down and as Hunt gets up again, he turns around straight into a...


“...YAAAAAAAAAAZUKA KICK!~” exclaims Comet as the crowd goes mad with glee and happiness. The former 'Fallen Angel' then raises his fist to the crowd again, then walks over to Hunt who is still laid out on the mat. He grabs Hunt by the back of his neck, and puts him in the fireman's carry position and holds him there for a moment, before dropping Hunt straight on his neck with a nasty BRAINBUSTER!


“Cross calls that move the Cross to Bear, and Martin Hunt seems to be entirely off his game,” Comet says as the crowd cheers like mad. “King? King? King!”

“Oh, right. Sorry, was checking out over/under on the Set – um, yeah. Cross sucks. Boo!”


As the crowd continues to go mad, Cross drags his finger across his throat, then picks up Hunt from the mat again, and pulls him to a standing position. As the crowd buzzes, David grabs Hunt in a double choke, raises him high in the air and drives him down to the mat with a SITDOWN POWERBOMB! The ref falls to the mat and begins the count...











“David Cross wins with that impressive double choke powebomb he calls Infinite Justice, and has a successful return here to the SWF! Your thoughts King?”

“Well, he still hasn't faced any real competition. Plus, you have to think both Fury and Davis will have some question to ask Cross, or in Sean's case, a large blunt object to hit him with,” responds King.

“We'll be right back after this special look at the career of Wes Davenport!”

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Aww yeah, Calvinball! Or, in the words of John Witherspoon, "Yeaaah boyeee!" Using his fire extinguisher jetpack, Funyon soars into the ring, ready to introduce some fuckin' Calvinball.




The six men and one cephalopod run down to the ring, but stop as there's no Calvinball, flag, wickets, or anything else of that nature there. Everyone stares at one another, and then Davis punches Stryke in the head and races back up the ramp, with Funyon following with his jetpack. The other competitors give chase, and Johnson overtakes Sean. JJ hits the backstage area and plows into Nick Soapdish.


"Referee's Rampage Zone!" Nick shouts out. "I get to kick all of you in the nuts three times."


"You aren't even in the match!" Fury protests, the first to catch up.


"You think that matters in Calvinball? Line up, ass fairies," Soapdish orders.




Johnson crumples to the floor.




Fury drops to his knees as Soapdish moves on.




Stryke's legs buckle and he falls backwards.




Archie tilts to the side and crashes into the floor.




Doom's eyes bulge, but he remains standing.




Davis hunches over and Soapdish comes at last to An Octopus. Nick pulls his foot back, but doesn't follow through. He does this a second time before staring at the cephalopod.


"Where...where are its testicles?" Nick asks.


In answer, An Octopus flails its tentacles.


"I said testicles!" Soapdish shouts.


Frustrated, Nick simply boots An Octopus in the head and walks off to the bathroom. The Straight-Bread Sensation heads down a corridor, with Davis immediately after him, and the remaining wrestlers trying to keep up. In an amazing stroke of arena architectual luck, Jimmy finds himself in front of the main doors. He bursts through the double doors, emerging into the bright sunlight of Phoenix. Doom looks around for a flag, or the Calvinball, but he doesn't move, putting himself in front of the doors. Doors that swing outwards.




Sean Davis collides with Jimmy the Doom, and both men fall, limbs entwined. JJ Johnson hurdles over the man pile and snatches up a wicket. Archie, Stryke, Fury, and An Octopus aren't far behind, and the first three end up steping on Doom's back. An Octopus, however, finds himself in the middle of Jimmy's back when the Straight-Breader stands up. Rather than taking a nasty three foot fall, An Octopus climbs to the top of Doom's head.


"International Wicket. That means anyone from the United States has to name the capitals of five countries," Johnson explains.


Stryke, Jimmy, and An Octopus move on, trying to find the Calvinball.


"Shit...Mexico City, London, Berlin, Paris, and Moscow," Fury says.


"Rome, Dublin, uh...Havana, Bejing...Baghdad," Archie mumbles before chasing after Fury and Stryke.


"Damn...Toronto..." Davis begins.


"Try again, Sean."


"Fuckin' shit...Athens, Tokyo...Madrid, D.C., and yo momma!" Davis shouts and punches Johnson in the face and runs off.


JJ goes after Sean and finally catches up with him at a playground. Next to the basketball courts, four of Shawn Kemp's thirteen year old daughters (Half-sisters) are jumping rope, one holding the Calvinball in her hand.


"Introduce yourself! In-in-introduce yourself!" she commands.


"Just you and Doom left," Stryke informs Johnson.


"Straight out Doomtopia, crazy motherfucker named Jimmy!

I'm gonna blast yo punk-ass if you ain't got:

The money!

The bitches!

The ice!


And yo, I'm gon' lay down some shit you might not know!


Said, uh, I'm straight-bread,

Got a mu'fuckin' gat,

Try to step up wit a sandwich,

And I'll blow a hole through ya hat!


Yo, ain't got no need fo' dat chedda,

But wait, hold up, I'm talking yellow and white,

Cause I always need the green. Still don't understand?

I'll make it simple, I say, 'Fuck cheese!'


Yeah, and keep dat jelly offa my pumpernickel,

Don't even think 'bout some fuckin' butter,

Else you wanna a size twelve in yo face!

And..." Jimmy raps, but is promptly silenced by Fury by way of a kick to the shin.


"BLURGH! VLABBA DROGGA TID! WISPLOG CAXUQ GIRBBUH!" Johnson screams as if he were the lead singer of Nile.


Davis stares at JJ and then punches him in the head before taking the Calvinball. Fury leaps on Sean's back and grabs the Calvinball.


"Okay. Uh...An Octopus, you have to recreate a scene from a Stallone movie with Stryke!" Chris exclaims.


Still atop Jimmy the Doom's head, An Octopus whips out a trucker hat, puts it on backwards, and offers a tentacle to Stryke. The Australian engages the cephalopod, and his limb is promptly taken over. To complete the moment, a smaller octopus rushes from the basketball court bleachers to embrace his father.


"That's...that's kind of messed up," Griffon comments.


Archie then snags the Calvinball from Fury and runs off.


"Anyone that holds on to the Calvinball for a minute straight gets twenty points!" Arch yells over his shoulder.


The other wrestlers chase after Archibald, and Johnson catches up with him first, knocking the Calvinball free with a flying kick. However, the Canadian doesn't get a chance to take control as Chris Fury punts the ball down the street.


"You asshole," JJ grumbles before backhanding Christian in the groin.


Everyone continues after the Calvinball, and An Octopus, benefiting from riding on Doom's head, spots a flag on the awning of a book store and snags it.


"Glub," An Octopus commands.


"You've got to be kidding me!" Stryke yells.


"Glub!" An Octopus shouts back.


"Damn it..." Davis grumbles. "I pick Jimmy for my team."


"Shit. Uh, Fury, let's do this thing," Stryke says.


Stryke and Sean head off in opposite directions, Chris and Doom accompanying their respective partners, while Archie, Johnson, and An Octopus continue looking for the Calvinball. Stryke quickly reappears, driving a Harley, with Fury seated on his shoulders. The Australian pulls up and waits for Davis to return. It doesn't take long, as the Perfect Storm comes around a corner on a Vespa, the Straight-Bread Sensation straddling his shoulders.


"Ha! What a piece of crap," Stryke comments.


"Man, fuck you. This was all I could find to steal on short notice," Davis snaps.


The two men rev their engines and then take off, headed for each other. Sean leans forward, bringing Jimmy closer to Christian, and, coupled with the Doomtopian's extraordinary reach, means that the Straight-Breader gets his hands on Fury's chest, shoving him off of Stryke's shoulders. However, it's not soon enough to give either driver a chance to swerve, resulting in a head on collision, and all four men tumble to the pavement, each of them leaving a chunk of skin on the asphalt. The game of motorcyle chicken squared over with, they try to catch up with the other three Calvinballers. Predictably, Johnson is in front, and he spots the Calvinball in front of a Waffle House. JJ bends down to pick it up, when the large front window above him explodes, as two figures burst through. One is small and clad in all-black ninja attire, the other a hulking giant, in tattered rags and skin with the color on consistency of a cinder block, holding a gigantic hammer.


"This ends now, Hell Smasher," the ninja says.


"That it does, Deadly Whisper...with your death!" Hell Smasher roars.


Deadly Whisper throws a pair of ninja stars at Hell Smasher. Picking the shards of metal out of his chest, Hell Smasher swings his hammer, but Deadly Whisper ninja jumps out of the way. Hell Smasher grunts and turns around, but Deadly Whisper has already drawn his ninja sword.


"Face it, Hell Smasher, there's no way you can match my ninja skills," Deadly Whisper says, his voice slightly muffled through his ninja mask.


"Never! I will crush you, proving once and for all that ninjas are weak and pitiful compared to a mighty demon soldier such as myself!" Hell Smasher roars.


"You demon soldiers are all the same, overly confident of your own abilities to the point of stupidity. I guess that can be attributed to demon soldiers all being spawned from one infernal Soul Reaper, and if I beat it so easily, you don't have a chance!" Deadly Whisper shouts.


Hell Smasher swings his hammer, but Deadly Whisper ninja flips over and brings his ninja sword into Hell Smasher's stonelike back. Deadly Whisper ninja kicks Hell Smasher in the back of the head before pulling out his ninja sword. Hell Smasher whips around and backhands Deadly Whisper, sending the ninja flying into a brick wall. Deadly Whisper ninja kicks off, and sails towards Hell Smasher, throwing ten ninja stars into the demon soldier's face. As Hell Smasher screams in pain, Deadly Whisper runs towards him and cleaves the demon soldier in twain with his ninja sword. Deadly Whisper wipes off the gray blood and sheaths his ninja sword. However, Hell Smasher doesn't seem to think the fight is over, as his left hand grabs Deadly Whisper by the ankles, and his right brings his war hammer down for a crushing blow. Deadly Whisper acts fast, turning around, pulling out his ninja sword, and cutting off Hell Smasher's right hand in one motion. Deadly Whisper takes out a match, strikes it on his sword, and throws it on Hell Smasher. The demon soldier bursts into flame, giving off oily black smoke, through which Deadly Whisper disappears.


"That was...odd," Stryke mutters.


"Shit, where'd the Calvinball go?" Fury asks.


At that moment, a figure exits the Waffle House, holding the Calvinball, which obviously was knocked inside during the fight. And that person holding the Calvinball? Why, none other than Phoenix's finest...


"OH MAH GAD, IT'S SPAHK!" Fury screams, adopting a half-assed Boston accent for some reason.


"Oh, hey guys. Calvinball, huh? Yeah, well, how about HURK!" Spark exclaims as a tusk protrudes from his torso.


A tusk that belongs to Olav, the Royal Narwhal of Norway. Standing atop Olav are King Harald V and Queen Sonja, throwing pickled herrings and chunks of lye-soaked lutefisk into the street as Olav flies eastward, back towards Oslo.


"Have some lutefisk!" Harald shouts.


"Yes, it is good, and a pickled herring each," Sonja adds.


The Calvinballers line up, hands outstretched to receive the treats. An Octopus quickly devours his herring, and snatches for more, but Griffon smacks the cephalopod's tentacle away and deposits the fish in his pants for safe keeping.


"Ow! The hell?" Stryke mutters, as he drops the lutefisk, which begins to sizzle on the sidewalk.


"Lutefisk is corrosive if not soaked properly to remove the lye," Fury explains.


"First one to eat some gets five points," JJ says.


Davis tries to swallow his hunk, but spits it out as it threatens to perform an involuntary tracheotomy. Doom gets a bright idea and stuffs his pickled herring with the gelatinous pseudo-food before eating the enitre thing. Griffon grabs the Calvinball and looks around.


"Uh, whoever hits that hippy over there with a rock first wins the Hardcore title!" Archie shouts.


Everyone immediately springs into action, and begin shuffling their feet.


"Shit? Nobody else wants it? Fine..." Griffon mumbles.


"Adultery Area! First person to have sex with An Octopus' wife wins the match!" Sean Davis exclaims, then punches JJ in the side of the head.


The cephalopod's eyes go wide, but are about to go even wider...


"Bam, overing matched. Nights lasting," Jimmy says, raising his hand.


An Octopus flings itself at Doom and wraps a trio of tentacles around the Straight-Bread Sensation's throat.


"That doesn't count, it starts from now. Besides, you can't prove it," Fury points out.


With that, Doom lowers his shorts, showing, not only his underwear made from a burlap sack, but around forty rings of lip sticked suction cup marks.


"Okay, now that's messed up," JJ mutters.


The Doomtopian zips his pants back up and pulls An Octopus off of his neck.


"What else to do..." Griffon mumbles.


As if on cue, a block of blue light begins falling from the sky, encompasing the Calvinballers.


"Incoming game!" Fury exclaims.


"What the fuck? Reboot?" Stryke sputters.


The light covers the seven competitors, the floating Funyon, and the cameramen. Everything is white, as if everyone is in a void of nothingness, when a shit load of text springs up.


"Reboot!" Funyon exclaims, and turns into a narrator.


"Reboot!" JJ shouts and gets transformed into the stuttering sailor, Billy Budd.


"Reboot!" Davis yells, and he becomes the master-at-arms, John Claggart.


"Jessica Hudnall

Mr. Henderson

Research Paper



The Futility of Innocence in Tragedy

“The bad end unhappily, the good, unluckily. That is what tragedy means” (Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead). Though over-simplified, these words accurately describe the aftermath of many tragic works. The outcome of the ‘good’, specifically, innocent, characters is often the worst of all the characters. Generally, any character, either branded specifically by the author’s words, or inferred through reading, as being innocent, will suffer the most in a tragedy. Both Herman Melville’s Billy Budd and Jean Racine’s Phaedra follow this pattern, however, despite several similarities between Hippolytus and Billy Budd, differences also exist. In Billy Budd, the titular character is conscripted into service with the Royal Navy and is accused of conspiring to mutiny by the “snake-like and evil” (Henderson) master-at-arms, John Claggart. When confronted by Captain Vere, Billy’s stuttering problem prevents him from proving his own innocence, and kills Claggart with a single blow. Vere orders a drumhead court, and Billy is executed. “During the absence of her husband, King Theseus, Phedre conceals her passion for her stepson Hippolyte, but receiving false word of Theseus' death, she is urged by her nurse Oenone to declare her love. Horrified, Hippolyte repulses her and upon Theseus' return asks permission to leave the court. Oenone convinces the king that Hippolyte made advances to her mistress, and Theseus calls upon Neptune, his protector, to destroy his son” (“Phedre”).


The most well-pronounced similarity between Billy Budd and Hippolytus is that they are portrayed as innocents. Hippolytus himself claims, “I’ve dark forebodings; something ill draws near / Yet surely innocence need never fear,” (Racine 186-7). However, “Innocence is not just purity and being unspoiled, but having ignorance and vulnerability towards the real world,” (Henderson). In Billy’s case, “ignorance was his blinder” (Melville 796) and he lacks real world experience, especially in dealing with corrupt and evil people. Hippolytus is no different, as he constantly laments that he has not yet lived up to his father’s reputation as a slayer of monsters, “May I not flee my idle pastimes here / To stain with worthier blood my sword or spear? / Before you’d lived as long as I have done / More than one tyrant, monsters more than one / Had felt your strength of arm, your sword’s keen blade / ...But I, the unknown son of such a sire, / Lack even the fame my mother’s deeds inspire” (Racine 185). This innocence also prevents both characters from properly responding when confronted with false accusations. “Phaedra accuses me of lust? I’m weak / With horror at the thought, and cannot speak; / By all these sudden blows I’m overcome; / They leave me stupefied, and stricken dumb” (188). After Vere recounts Claggart’s accusations, Billy is also dumbfounded, “He stood like one impaled and gagged... ‘Speak, man!’ said Captain Vere to the transfixed one, struck by his aspect even more than by Claggart’s. ‘Speak! Defend yourself!’ Which appeal caused but a strange dumb gesturing and gurgling in Billy; amazement at such an accusation so suddenly sprung on inexperienced nonage; this, and it may be, horror of the accuser’s eyes, serving to bring out his lurking defect and in this instance for the time intensifying it into a convulsed tongue-tie; while the intent head and entire form straining forward in an agony of ineffectual eagerness to obey the injunction to speak and defend himself, gave an expression to the face like that of a condemned vestal priestess in the moment of being buried alive, and in the first struggle against suffocation” (Melville 802).

Billy and Hippolytus also share in the fact that they are, in essence, undone by a more experienced, unnatural character, or characters in the case of Phaedra. John Claggart’s appearance is quite different from other sailors, “This complexion, singularly contrasting with the red or deeply bronzed visages of the sailors, and in part the result of his official seclusion from the sunlight, though it was not exactly displeasing, nevertheless seemed to hint of something defective or abnormal in the constitution and the blood” (Melville 781). It is not just Claggart’s looks that are unusual, “Now something such as one was Claggart, in whom was the mania of an evil nature, not engendered by vicious training or corrupting books or licentious living, but born with him and innate, in short ‘a depravity according to nature’” (789). Despite these flaws, Claggart is not ugly, and he dresses neatly (789), but his true character is revealed in his eyes (Henderson). “Meanwhile, the accuser’s eyes, removing not as yet from the blue dilated ones, underwent a phenomenal change, their wonted rich violet color blurring into a muddy purple. Those lights of human intelligence, losing human expression, were gelidly protruding like the alien eyes of certain uncategorized creatures of the deep. The first mesmeristic glance was one of serpent fascination; the last was as the paralyzing lurch of the torpedo fish” (Melville 802). “Phaedra is descended from a line of women of unnatural passions” (“Phaedra”) and suffers from a “monstrous lust” (Henderson) for Hippolytus, and her nurse, Oenone, can be considered as the true villain of the play (Henderson). Phaedra herself admits her lack of innocence on several occasions, “Alas, my guilty flame has burnt too long” (Racine 168). “My hands, thank Heaven, are guiltless as you say. / Gods! That my heart were innocent as they!” (169). These morally corrupt characters bring the innocents down by bringing about false accusations of crimes Budd and Hippolytus have not committed. Oenone, at first, tries to convince Phaedra to lie to Theseus regarding Hippolytus, saying, “You fear the man. Dare to accuse him first / Of that which he might charge you with today. / What could belie you? The facts all point his way” (184). When Phaedra rejects this idea, Oenone lies to Theseus herself, telling him that Hippolytus is in love with Phaedra (187). Claggart, first tries unsuccessfully to have Billy directly connected to a mutinous plot (Melville 792), and then goes directly to Captain Vere. Later, Claggart indirectly insinuates that there is a mutiny being planned, and Vere asks, “‘You say that there is at least one dangerous man aboard. Name him.’ ‘William Budd, a foretopman, your honor’” (799).

Yet another similarity between Hippolytus and Billy Budd is condemnation by a father figure. Captain Vere says of Billy killing Claggart, “ ‘Struck dead by an angel of God! Yet the angel must hang!’ ” (Melville 803). Despite knowing that Billy is innocent of Claggart’s accusation regarding mutiny, Vere wishes to take care of the problem Billy has created swiftly, before an actual mutiny breaks out (810). Hippolytus’ father, Theseus, calls upon a favor of Neptune’s to kill Hippolytus, “Avenge a father’s wrong. / Seize on this traitor, and let your rage be strong. / Drown in his blood his brazen lust. I’ll know / Your favor by the fury that you show” (Racine 188). In spite of this, however, both Vere and Theseus feel remorse after the deaths of Billy and Hippolytus. Captain Vere’s last words were “‘Billy Budd, Billy Budd’” (Melville 820). Theseus, after calling for Neptune to curse Hippolytus, says of his son, “I loved you; and in spite of what you’ve done, / I mourn your coming agonies, my son” (Racine 190), while later, after Aricia has claimed to love Hippolytus, Theseus says, “But I myself, despite my stern control -- / What plaintive voice cries from my inmost soul? / I feel a secret pity, a surge of pain. / Oenone must be questioned once again. / I’ll have more light on this. Not all is known” (197). Shortly afterwards, Panope has informed Theseus that Oenone has committed suicide before being questioned, and Theseus says, “Oenone’s dead? And Phaedra wants to die? / O bring me back my son, and let him clear / His name! If he’ll but speak, I now will hear. / O Neptune, let your gifts not be conferred / Too swiftly; let my prayers go unheard. / Too much I’ve trusted what may not be true, / Too quickly raised my cruel hands to you. / How I’d despair if what I asked were done!” (198). After discovering that Hippolytus is dead, Theseus confronts Phaedra, “Well, Madam, my son’s no more; you’ve won the day! / Ah, but what qualms I feel! What doubts torment / My heart and plead that he was innocent!” (200), and after Phaedra’s death, Theseus says, “Let’s go, since now my error’s all too clear, / And mix my poor son’s blood with many a tear, / Embrace his dear remains, and expiate / The fury of a prayer which now I hate. / To is great worth all honor shall be paid, / And, further to appease his angry shade, / Aricia, despite her brother’s offense, / Shall be my daughter from this moment hence” (201).

One of the major differences between Hippolytus and Billy Budd is that Budd actually commits a crime. “The next instant, quick as the flame from a discharged cannon at night, his right arm shot out, and Claggart dropped to the deck. Whether intentionally or but owing to the young athlete’s superior height, the blow had taken effect full upon the forehead, so shapely and intellectual-looking a feature in the master-at-arms; so that the body fell over lengthwise, like a heavy plank tilted from erectness. A gasp or two, and he lay motionless” (Melville 802). In fact, all throughout the drumhead court ordered by Vere, the death of Claggart is the matter discussed, not whether Billy was or was not planning a mutiny (808). Though Hippolytus is in love with Aricia, it is probable that Theseus would not have cursed his son for that reason alone.

Another difference between Budd and Hippolytus is that Theseus fully believes Oenone’s lie, while Captain Vere has his doubts. “‘Do you come to me, Master-at-arms, with so foggy a tale? As to Budd, cite me an act or spoken word of his confirmatory of what you in general charge against him. Stay,’ drawing nearer to him; ‘heed what you speak. Just now, and in a case like this, there is a yardarm-end for the false witness’” (Melville 800). After Oenone has told him that Hippolytus lusts after his wife, Phaedra, Theseus says, “The traitor! Ah, no wonder he turned pale. / When first he sighted me, I saw him quail. / ’Twas strange to see no greeting in his face. / My heart was frozen by his cold embrace” (Racine 187). Later, as he sees his son, Theseus says, “Ah, here he comes. Gods! By that noble mien / What eye would not be duped, as mine has been! / Why must the brow of an adulterer / Be stamped with virtue’s sacred character? / Should there not be clear signs by which one can / Divine the heart of a perfidious man?” (188). Understandably, Hippolytus is confused, and Theseus once more lashes out, “Dare you appear before me, treacherous one? / Monster, at whom Jove’s thunder should be hurled! / Foul brigand, like those of whom I cleaned the world! / Now that your vile, unnatural love has led / You even to attempt your father’s bed, / How dare you show your hated self to me / Here in the precincts of your infamy, / Rather than seek some unknown land where fame / Has never brought the tidings of my name? / Fly, wretch” (188).

Tragedy is effectively makes being an innocent character pointless, as “The tone and effect of tragedy were long ago identified by Aristotle as those of pain, usually of punishment for sin” (Styan 166). Furthermore, in tragedy, “The innocent suffer for the misdeeds and sins of others” (Henderson).

Works Cited

Henderson, Jamie. “Lecture on Billy Budd.” Southern Union State Community College. Opelika, Alabama. July 6, 2005.

Henderson, Jamie. “Lecture on Phaedra.” Southern Union State Community College. Opelika, Alabama. June 6, 2005.

Melville, Herman. Billy Budd. The Norton Anthology of World Masterpieces. Ed. Sarah Lawall. New York: Norton. 1999. 768-822.

“Phaedra”. Masterpieces of World Literature. 1989. 666. InfoTrac Web. Alabama Virtual Library. Opelika, Alabama. July 20, 2005.

“Phedre”. Benet’s Reader’s Encyclopedia, Edition 3. 1987. InfoTrac Web. Alabama Virtual Library. Opelika, Alabama. July 20, 2005.

Racine, Jean. Phaedra. The Norton Anthology of World Masterpieces. Ed. Sarah Lawall. New York: Norton. 1999. 163-201.

Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead. Writ. and dir. Tom Stoppard. Videocassette. Second Sight Films, 1990.

Styan, J.L. “Some Late Reflections on Tragedy and Its Theatrical Chemistry”. Comparative Drama. Spring 1999: 166-176. SIRS Renaissance. Alabama Virtual Library. Opelika, Alabama. July 19, 2005. ," Funyon says, reading GOdrea's world literature paper. She probably got an A on it! Fuck yeah, motherfuckers!


"Is it over yet?" Stryke asks, who hasn't yet rebooted.


"No, because the stories haven't been enacted," Funyon explains.


"You are a mutinous traitor, Billy Budd," Sean 'the Perfect Jemmy Legs' Claggart accuses.


"Bu-bull-buh-bullshih...fu-fu-fu...." JJ Budd attempts to respond to the claims, but cannot overcome his stuttering.


So, he just decks Davis, knocking him flat.


"Jesus Billy Johnson, you killed him!" Fury shouts.


"We need to recreate Phaedra now," Funyon states.


"Reboot!" Stryke exclaims, turning into Hippolytus. "Shit."


"Reboot!" Fury yells, and turns into Theseus. "Awesome. Get me a beer, son!"


"Fuck you," Strykeytus replies.


"Reboot," Griffon says tentatively, and turns into Phaedra.


"Woman, get me a sandwich!" Chris orders.


Archie just knees Fury in the groin.


"Rebootulations!" Doom shouts, and turns into a horse.


"Glub!" An Octopus exclaims, and remains An Octopus.


"Uh...your son totally tried to hit on me," Griffon says to Fury.


"No way!" Stryke replies. "That's fucking gross!"


"You damn liar! Posiedon, kick this guy's ass for me. You owe me one!" Chris screams.


Hippoly-Stryke climbs on Doom's back and Jimmy crawls around, when suddenly, An Octopus springs from behind a rock.




The Straight-Bread Sensation rears back, dumping Stryke on his head and runs around, dragging Stryke to a bloody death.


"I was totally lying back there," Griffon admits to Fury.


"Shit," Chris replies.


Swiftly, everything returns to normal, and that means Calvinball is still on! Stryke snags the Calvinball from Griffon.


"First to evolve wins!" the Australian screams.


Everyone instantly tries to force an evolutionary change, Fury straining particularly hard.


"Oh no, I have shat in my pants!" Chris laments.


"Yeah, okay, let's not do that..." Stryke mumbles. "I've got it! The manliest person wins!"


All the wrestlers run off in different directions, ready to prove their manliness. Archie Griffon bursts into a pawn shop. He snatches up random parts, then quickly exits to get really drunk. Fury wanders around Phoenix, while Stryke and Sean Davis both have the idea of punching stuff. JJ rushes off to a bar, and finds The Crimson Skull and Heff.


"Heff, what the hell are we doing in Phoenix? It's hotter than anything, and I don't even have a match tonight," Skull says.


"Yeah, but come on, check this place out? Perfect spot to bone some hot chicks!" Heff exclaims.


"Like you could even get a woman," Skull replies.


"I totally get hot chicks, and I bone them. I do it like this: Rutta Chugga, Rutta Chugga[/u][/u]!" Heff says, whilst making pelvic thrusts.


Johnson gets inspiration from Skull's creepy assistant, and tries to get some chicks to bone himself. Meanwhile, Jimmy is at a flight school, learning how to operate a Cesna, and An Octopus is harrasing hanging out at a museum of natural history with some raccoons, specifically in the dinosaur exhibit, even more specifically, in front of the tyranosaurus rex display.


"Hello T-Rex. We were not meant to be," the raccoons and the cephalopod say.


Arch is now weaving and stumbling around Phoenix, trying to locate Davis, which he does. He pulls out a giant laser and points it at the Perfect Storm.


"You're so drunk, you're probably seeing double," Davis says.


"I've got two lasers, one for each of ya!" Griffon shouts back, presenting a second laser.


He fires both of them, which reflect off of the mirrored windows of an office building, and to a gigantic aluminum ball filled with popcorn suspended above Sean's head. The popcorn pops, and bursts the foil, covering Davis. Children rush out and begin to devour the popcorn, while Griffon flips coins over his knuckles, coughs up a lot of blood, and kicks Warwick Davis in the face.


"Stupid Peck. You're not some great wizard, you're just a dumb Peck, but you can be my wingman anytime, Peck," Griffon says, then zaps a lion and a half-human, half-goat hybrid with his lasers, and does the mega teeth CHOMP of terror.


Stryke keeps on punchin' stuff, while JJ bones a chick (Heff struck out completely), and Fury begins to overeat, and then brag about it to women, who he then bones. Doom hops into a Cesna and heads off for the Grand Canyon. The Straight-Bread Sensation dumps a ridiculous amount of meats given the plane's small size into the Grand Canyon, quickly filling it up. Jimmy flies off, and soon returns, only to dump napalm on the meat, reducing it to cinder and ash.




"And the winner of this match, because wasting food is the manliest thing to do, JIMMY THE DOOM!" Funyon shouts.

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“Peters, I know yer in there, ya wanker! Open this bloody door, ya get me!?”


But the door with ‘Joseph Peters, SWF Generalissimo’ on it remains firmly shut and, apparently, locked. Amy Stephens steps back with a sigh of frustration… and then jumps forward with a squeak of surprise as she suddenly realises there is someone directly behind her. She spins around with right fist clenched, and finds herself staring into the pleasant features of an Asian man in a hat. A remarkably stupid-looking hat.


“Heh. Nice hat,” Amy says to cover her surprise.


“Thank you,” Hiroshi Hojo says, apparently taking the compliment at face value.


“Now what the bloody hell were you doin’ sneakin’ up behind me?” Amy continues, recovering her usual state of belligerency. Hojo’s eyes widen slightly and he makes a brief bow of what might be apology.


“I am sorry if I startled you, Miss Stephens,” he says, “I was coming to see Mr. Peters as well, but it seems he is elsewhere. Doubtless, he will return later.”


“Yeah, he’d bloody better,” Amy mutters, turning around and striding off. After a second she realises that Hojo is accompanying her. “Hey, I know you,” she tells him, “you’re that guy who’s hanging with Janus, right?”


“I am a business partner of Mr. Bailey’s you are correct,” Hojo confirms, then looks closer at her. “Do you know him?”


“Well, I know who he is,” Amy says, “me bruvver had some matches with him back in the day, innit. Said he was a bloody psycho, but then Mike was a fine one to talk.”


“Ah yes, your brother,” Hojo nods, his cane *clacking* on the floor as he keeps pace with her, “the notorious Toxxic whom I have heard so much about. I take it you are not making any progress in your search for him?”


“I’m hardly likely to stuck here, am I?” Amy growls, “I mean, unless he turns up out o’ the blue or something all I’m gonna do here is make enough money to keep lookin’ for him, ya get me?”




“‘Hmm’ what?” Amy says, stopping and looking at the man beside her. Hiroshi Hojo is looking very thoughtful, and as he sees Amy looking at him his face breaks into a small smile.


“You see Miss Stephens, I am a representative of a large company,” Hojo informs her, “we are currently involved in business dealings with the SWF, but we have branches, sister companies, representatives… everywhere. And I really do mean,” he continues, a gleam in his eye, “more or less everywhere. Just one person looking for your brother would have a very hard time of it; after all, it’s not like you even know which country he is in, am I correct?”


“Yeah, that’s the bloody trouble,” Amy agrees.


“Well then,” Hojo beams, “maybe I can be of some assistance! If you could furnish me with some recent photos of your brother - I know little about him, but I gather that he changed his appearance somewhat when he left the company - then I can distribute them to my associates. Who knows, someone may turn something up. If not, you may at least have an idea of where he isn’t, should you choose to leave the SWF and keep searching after your probationary six-month contract expires.”


Amy stares hard at Hiroshi Hojo, but the man seems to be completely sincere. Something definitely doesn’t feel quite right about this… but she can’t quite figure out what. Like most Caucasian people Amy has trouble reading the faces of other racial groups, and at the end of the day, for all her rough, bellicose nature she doesn’t have her brother’s instinctive suspicion. Mind you, she’s not entirely gullible, either.


“So what do you get out of this?” she asks, folding her arms beneath her ample bosom and tilting her head to one side, “one thing Mike did tell me before he buggered off was that people don’t do nothing for free in this business.”


“Perhaps,” Hojo concedes, “but remember that apart from handling security I am not exactly ‘in the business’.” He smiles again, and clasps his cane in both hands. “Besides, one can hardly be blamed for wanting to help a young woman be reunited with her family.”


“Right,” Amy snorts, “an’ I suppose the fact that Landon’s been droppin’ peeps on their heads an’ all sorts don’t mean you security types might wanna know if Mike’s comin’ back at all? Y’know, just a thought.”


There is a small silence. Then Hojo’s smile turns slightly shame-faced.


“I must admit, there is some truth there,” he concedes, “it would indeed be useful to know if your brother was even in the country, and therefore whether he might be entertaining some notion of answering Mr. Maddix’s challenge and possibly ending the… *ahem* slight chaos that your friend has been causing. You are very perceptive.”


“It’s the tits,” Amy sighs, “blokes never see past the tits, innit. Jus’ cos I don’t speak proper like me bruvver don’t mean I’m dumb or some shit, ya get me?”


“I… think I do,” Hojo nods, still slightly thrown by the Nottingham accent and dialect, “I am sorry, I didn’t mean to imply that I felt you were unintelligent. Now, since we seem to be going in the same direction, I wonder if I may accompany you back to your dressing room?” he asks. “On the way, I’d be very interested to hear about your brother… and about yourself, of course.” The smile returns, and the pair start walking. “Tell me about yourself, Amy…”

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The Smartmark's Wrestling Federation Presents...



(7:00pm PST, 10:00pm EST; check local listings)

It's the hottest show of the year!

... ok, already off to a bad start...

Anyway! SWF From the Fire is coming to you from Phoenix, Arizona, where I hear it's pretty hot, so I think it's a good fit. The action begins on the not-really-appropriately-titled-pre-show Frost, where the obligatory QMM match will open the show, and CALVINBALL III will headline!

THEN! Amy Stephens is out to prove she's more than just eye candy as she takes on Ghost Machine V2.0 for a shot at the Cruiserweight Title! Bruce Blank defends his Ultraviolent Championship against the returning Renegade! Wayne Blank takes on Insane Luchadore, and attempts to gain employment with the SWF, while Kevin Coyote and Longdogger Pete fight to end each others' career! And Jay Hawke and Wildchild battle for the International Championship inside a steel cage!

Which carries us right into From the Fire's DOUBLE MAIN EVENT!

FIRST! The winning teams of the Lethal Lottery, the Asian Underground and Team SpYon, clash with the reigning champions, Landon Maddix and Max King, in a TLC Match!

THEN! Wes Davenport, winner of the 2006 Clusterfuck, cashes in his World Title Shot against the unbeatable El Luchadore Magnifico! A little bit of skill and a whole lot of luck have brought Wes this far - can they carry him just a little bit further?

SWF From the Fire! As soon as I come up with a snappy way to end this synopsis, I'll edit it in!

OFFICIAL THEME MUSIC: "Born from Fire," by Amorphis



SWF World Heavyweight Championship Match
El Luchadore Magnifico © vs. Wes Davenport

--->"I'm going to From the Fire...?" Those are the words uttered by #1 contender Wes Davenport after winning the SWF Clusterfuck at the end of January, and even now, he still may not believe them! In a truly unprecidented series of events, the former wrestler turned actor turned back wrestler joined the SWF to re-condition himself for a movie role, but when that fell through, Davenport found himself in the position of needing to honor his SWF contract... and he has done more than his part. With the exhilarating finish to Lockdown's main event, Davenport has found himself with a victory over the world champion, even if it was his tag partner. Wes finds himself in the position of the man most able to defeat El Luchadore Magnifico, but for the world champion, this all old hat. Two other men, both Todd Cortez and JJ Johnson, have been "the best" threat to the Mexican's monstrous title reign, and Magnifico has whisked them away. ELM may have already cemented himself as the greatest SWF champion in history, and can a mere actor really hope to knock him off his throne? Who will emerge from the embers as world heavyweight champion?

Rules: Standard singles match.


Street Fight
Kevin Coyote vs. Longdogger Pete

--->Flash back to a month ago: The shocking revelation that William "Judge Mental" Hearford had been threatening to tell the world about his ex-protoge, Kevin Coyote, is finally revealed by Coyote himself: He is the son of Longdogger Pete! Over the last several weeks, both men, incredulous over this fact, have struggled bitterly. After a long series of unprovoked attacks by Coyote, Pete has finally come to a decision: To face Coyote in a street fight with both men's careers on the line! Estranged father and son meet in the most emotionally charged match of From the Fire!

Rules: Street fight - no DQ, no countouts, pinfalls count anywhere.


TABLES, LADDERS, AND CHAIRS - SWF Tag Team Championship Match
Landon Maddix © and Max King © vs. The Asian Underground (Akira Kaibatsu © and Michael Cross) vs. "Hollywood" Spike Jenkins and Zyon

---> The Lethal Lottery is finally over! No more, we promise. Tonight, The Asian Underground and Team SpYon, both undefeated in the tournament, ascend to From the Fire's co-main event, a Triple Threat TLC for the SWF Tag Team Championships! May the best team win!

Rules: The tag team championship belts will be suspended above the ring, which is surrounded by - you guessed it - tables, ladders, and chairs. No holds barred, anything goes. First team to take possession of the tag titles wins.


CAGE MATCH - SWF International Championship
Jay Hawke © vs. Wildchild

---> Nowhere to run to, baby! Nowhere to hiiiiiiide! Jay Hawke has managed to slip away from Wildchild numerous times in the past, but not tonight! At From the Fire, Wildchild gets another crack at the International Champion, and this time they will be in the confines of a steel cage! This could be the end of Jay Hawke's unstoppable title reign... or it could be his biggest defense yet.

Rules: Pinfall, Submission, OR Escape. Everything counts.


#1 Contendership for the SWF Cruiserweight Championship
Amy Stephens vs. Ghost Machine 2.0

---> It's a chick vs. a robot. THAT'S ALL THE REASONING WE NEED.

Amy wants to prove that she's an asset to the company, and Joseph Peters has granted her a shot against everybody's favorite spectral android! Can Amy make good on her attempt to move up the food chain, or will Ghost Machine expose her as a damn fine woman who just can't cut it in the ring?

Rules: Standard, with Cruiserweight Addenda - no throwing your opponent over the top rope, outside count goes to 20.


Ultraviolent Ladder Match
Insane Luchadore vs. Wayne Blank

---> Part two of the Ultraviolent Double Header sees Insane Luchadore taking on Blank!

Unfortunately, it's the wrong Blank. But I don't think Insane Luchadore is going to care - one Blank is as good as another to him! Hanging above the ring is a briefcase with a contract for IL vs. Bruce, and if Bruce still holds the UV Title, it will be on the line!

But there's another briefcase hanging above the ring, this one containing a contract for Wayne! Bruce's brother makes his first (and possibly last) sanctioned SWF appearance at From the Fire, fighting for future employment!

This is a match neither man can afford to lose - too bad one of them has to.

Rules: "Ultraviolent Ladder Match" - Regular ladder match rules, but the ladder legs are wrapped in barbwire and there are various weapons and barbwire wrapped objects scattered all over the aisle and ringside area.

Suspended in the air is a briefcase with 2 contracts. One is for a singles match with Bruce under UV rules (Title match if Bruce still has the title) and one is an SWF Contract for Wayne Blank - Winner tears up the other contract and keeps his own.


Death on Ice - SWF Ultraviolent Championship Match
Bruce Blank © vs. Renegade

---> The first round of the Ultraviolent Double Header sees the reigning nigh-unstoppable champion meet possibly his biggest challenge yet - THE RENEGADE MASTAH~! Renegade is back, and ready to dish out the hurt in the SWF's second ever Death on Ice match! Can Renegade finally dethrone the king of Ultraviolence, or will Bruce hang on to the title long enough for IL to get his shot?

Rules: It's a Last Man Standing match - but fought in the Arizona Hockey Arena. Actually it's fought during a break in the action of a chairty hockey event between the Phoenix Coyotes and representatives from the SWF. Anything is legal as long as they stay inside the actual arena. Match goes on until one man cannot answer the 10 count.

Edited by chirs3

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As the Ultraviolent title match takes place in the Arizona Hocke arena away from the "From the Fire" Location we now go to a live feed with our on the spot commentators NTD and Curry Man"


”Welcome you lucky fans who are either at home or in the America West Arena and not stuck here watching this abomination of a game” NTD says as he greets the fans


“Come on now it’s been a very… interesting game” Curry Man replies desperately trying to make it sound just a little interesting


“Oh yeah an interesting 0 – 0 game where the SWF “B Star” line up has proven quite embarrassing even for a charity game. I mean look at the line up for crying out loud” NTD complains


“Alright so I’ll admit that maybe guys like the still injured Ced Ordonez and the original Ghost Machine aren’t exactly stellar players but we’ve got a chance”


“Oh please! I mean look at them! Jason Von Dierch showed up before the game and bitched at EVERYONE for not being included in the game – Martin Hunt graciously gave him the spot and what does he do?” NTD asks


“. . . alright he’s done nothing at all” Curry Man reluctantly admits


“Yep absolutely nothing at all. And don’t get me started on the “Karmic Kollossus” Devon Walters – He’s been squatted on the ice the entire time”


“It’s called meditation man, it’s a karma thing, it’s about reaching Nirvana – you wouldn’t get it” Curry Man says with great respect for the Buddhist faith.


“It’s a frozen nuts thing and I do get that! The only saving grace has been the team captain and also the goal keeper, he has had an OUTSTANDING match and make like 50 saves so far.” NTD says as he finds ONE good thing to talk about


“I agree, Another Octopus, brother of the Calvinball participant An Octopus sure was an inspired choice for team captain of the SWF team and he plays goalie like he was born with 8 arms or something – it’s quite inspirational.”


“He outplays those overpriced pansies in the NHL. In fact I’ll bet you Another Octopus will get a contract with an NHL team… if they had scouts here to see him play of course.” NTD adds with a sneer.


“But to be fair the fans aren’t here because they wanted to see a hockey match” Curry Man replies as someone motions for them to “get to the point”


“No they’re here because From the Fire was sold out and this is as close as they get tonight – They came to see a fight and then a hockey match broke out…. A crappy hockey match”


“It’s for charity, it’s not about good or bad, it’s about supporting the “Frost Foundation for Struggling Billionaires” after all.” Curry Man says, fortunately the mask helps him keep a straight face as he mentions the charity.


“It’s not about charity, it’s about violence – ULTRAVIOLENCE to be precise cause this is the venue for Bruce Blank’s 12th Ultraviolent title match” NTD says rubbing his hands with excitement.


“Let’s go to the ice for the introductions as the fans can enjoy some violence before we resume the charity hockey match between the SWF and the Phoenix Coyotes”


“The moment it’s over I’m outta, I can’t stand to watch another minute of hockey” NTD says thinking that his microphone has been cut off.


The normal Phoenix Coyotes hockey announcer is on the ice with a microphone in hand smiling from ear to ear as he addresses the crowd.


"Tonight... ihght.. ght" his words echo through the almost empty arena (most got "From the Fire" tickets after all)


"A lucky fan... an.. an. Will act as your special guest ring announcer... ouncer... bouncer"


The lights in the Arizona Hockey Arena are turned off for a moment, then a a beam of cold white light illuminates a person standing in the center of the ice rink. A man in a purple body suit, mask and black gloves & boots.


"Is that... " Curry Man asks


"No you idiot, this guy has a HUGE bushy mustache – Ghost Machine V2.0 doesn’t have a bushy mustache" NTD points out


"OOOOH Yeah the mustache, it’s quite clearly there on the mask - well spottet"


"I have been programmed to deliver the introduction of the participants for the Ultraviolent title match" Most definitely not” GM V2.0 says as he reads the details off a card.


"This is a pointless subroutine, you all know why we're here! You're here to see the Renegade and Bruce Blank try to Ctrl+Alt+Del each other for an extended period of time?"




"Response within expected parameters, job complete!" the man who could never EVER be Ghost Machine V2.0 because of the big bushy mustache says and then walks off the ice as the arena lights are turned back on.


"Well that was certainly different" Curry Man admits


"Oh like these guys need any introduction! I mean yeah we could tell you all that Renegade is a two time SJL TV Champion, a two time SJL European Champion and a two time SJL World Heavyweight champion and all that bull but really we're here to see some blood on the ice!" NTD points out as one of the arena spotlights shine on the home field entrance.


"Here comes the 'Gade!" Curry Man says all excited, happy that at least one of the participants in this match is someone he’s familiar with.


"Get to the gone

Under the gun

Drop in drop out

Get to the gone"




“And the Renegade takes the ice” Curry Man says in his “I’m a serious sports caster” voice.


A single spotlight shines on Renegade as he walks out from the Home Team entrance to quite a positive response from the people gathered in the Arizona Hockey Arena. The Renegade looks as intense as ever as he walks towards the ice with a hockey stick in one hand and a home team version of the Phoenix Coyote’s Hockey jersey over his regular black wrestling gear.


"Get to the gone

It's just the way you wanna be

Under the gun

It's just the way to be"


Once Renegade steps onto the ice it’s immediately obvious that he’s wearing hockey skates instead of the traditional wrestling boots and it’s also quite obvious that he knows how to skate as he does a lap around the ice with the hockey stick raised over his head.


“I was wondering how they’d handle the Ice” NTD says “I guess they decided that the best way to deal with the ice was to strap weapons to their feet”


“No, no, no they’re ice skates” Curry Man corrects him.


“They’re long sharp metal objects – in other words they’re potential weapons”


"Drop in drop out

To begin with it's killing me

Killing the one thing

I know this to be"


As his music dies down the Renegade does a Self High Five before heading to the center of the ice where the referee is waiting for him.


"Well every time that I come home nobody wants to let me be

It seems that all the friends I got just got to come interrogate me"




The second Bruce appears in the spotlight that shines on the away team’s entrance the crowd begins to boo and jeer the hated Ultraviolent champion.


“A far cry from San Quentin isn’t it?” Curry Man points out.


“Is it really? I hadn’t noticed I thought all prisons has a skating rink” NTD says as he rolls his eyes. He hasn’t done commentary with Curry Man in years and now he knows why it ended.


"Well, I appreciate your feelings and I don't want to pass you by

But I don't ask you about your business, don't ask me about mine"


Bruce has the Coyote’s away Hockey Jersey tugged under the Ultraviolent title wrapped around his waist as he slowly walks towards the ice. Bruce is also brandishing a hockey stick but unlike the Renegade’s this one has barbwire wrapped around the end of it.


“Here comes the guy that was voted “Most likely to commit a violent crime” in High School” NTD says as Lynyrd Skynyrd explains that they shouldn’t ask Bruce questions.


“Really? He was?” Curry Man asks, a question that makes NTD slap his head in despair.


"Well its true I love the money and I love my brand new car

I like drinkin' the best of whiskey and playing in a honky tonk bar"


Bruce stops by the guardrail and stares at the Renegade who’s still doing circles on the ice, getting warmed up and ready for his fight with Bruce. The big man puts in a black mouthpiece and then opens the door in the guardrail to step onto the ice.


"But when I come off the road, well I just got to have my time

'Cause I got to find a break in this action, else I'm gonna lose my mind"


Bruce’s reluctance to step onto the ice probably dwells in the fact that he can’t really skate, a fact that’s revealed when he steps onto the ice and has to cling on to the rail to not fall down.


“Look at him, it’s like Bambi… except more demented and less cute.” Curry Man says as Bruce’s legs seem to go everywhere but where he wants them to go.


“Hey it’s not his fault they don’t have much ice in Alabama, come on now would you make fun of someone not being able to ride a bike?”


“If he was in a match where he had to ride a bike then yes absolutely” Curry Man says with a snigger enjoying seeing Bruce make an ass of himself.


"So, don't ask me no questions

And I won't tell you no lies

So, don't ask me about my business

And I won't tell you goodbye"


With the hockey stick used to kinda keep himself upright Bruce slowly makes his way towards the center of the ice where the referee is waiting to start the match. Bruce looks both pissed off and uncomfortable in the situation, once he falls flat on his ass he’s probably even more uncomfortable though.


“Bwa, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha”


“How can you laugh Curry? That’s not funny! That’s not funny at all that this guy, this Working Class Hero is subjected to such a humiliating situation” NTD says


“Working class hero? Bruce Blank? NTD Have you been running around the carpark breathing in fumes again?” Curry replies not really seeing the “working class hero” aspects of Bruce Blank.


After managing to actually make it half way across the ice Bruce’s balance finally gives up and the big man’s feet go flailing in opposite directions resulting in Bruce landing firmly on his ass and elbows to a roar of laughter. The referee just shakes his head and blows his whistle




“Is that supposed to be instead of the bell?” NTD asks annoyed by the high pitch sound.


“Well it’s a hockey themed match, there are no ring bells in Hockey” Curry Man replies


“Yeah but there are also no 10 count knock outs either” NTD counters pointing out the obvious flaw in Curry Man’s argument.


Renegade builds up some speed as he skates towards Bruce who’s still sitting with his ass on the ice trying his best to get back up. The Ultraviolent champion spots the challenger and raises his barbwire wrapped hockey stick to protect himself from a potential attack but instead of hitting Bruce Renegade stops fast and hard 2 foot short resulting in Bruce being sprayed with ice shavings from where the Renegade’s skates shave the ice.




”Oh so he sprayed ice on him, big freaking deal” NTD says angrily as the crowd cheers for the Renegade’s display of disrespect.


“It’ll take more than a bit of ice to beat Bruce and I’m sure Renegade knows it” Curry Man replies.


After spending a minute or so on the ice Bruce tries his best to get back up by using the hockey stick to lean on. Renegade spots a puck on the ice, raises the hockey stick high in the air and






The puck flies through the air and nails Bruce right in the shoulder as the big man is almost upright knocking Bruce on his ass once more.




“What the hell?”


“Apparently Renegade scored” Curry Man says and points to the scoreboard where the Home team now has a point.


“Oh that’s cute, is it a two point shot if he hits Bruce in the nads?”


“Maybe he’ll just have to find out?”


Renegade picks up the puck once more and starts to skate towards Bruce once more, shifting the puck left and right as he tries to pick his shot. The second Renegade hits the puck once more Bruce pulls his arms up to protect his face, shame that it strikes his knee instead








Bruce falls to the ground once more grasping his knee in pain as the puck bounced right off the side of Bruce’s knee.


“Luckily for Bruce he can ice down the knee right away” Curry Man jokes as the Renegade skates down and gets the puck one more time.


“Alright enough of this crap! It’s a wrestling match, pucks have no business in a wrestling match unless it’s in a sock and the sock is swung overhead.” NTD bitches.


“Ah yes the Grecco-Roman Hockey Sock, didn’t Rulan Gardner win an Olympic medal with that?”


Renegade fires off another shot and once again the puck looks to be on target to strike Bruce and probably knock him on his ass. But miracles of miracles Bruce is able to put his hockey stick up to block it and it just falls to the ground right in front of him.


“FINALLY! Maybe we can put an end to this hockey nonsense once and for all” NTD says as he hopes the hockey match will turn into a fight.


Even though his knee is hurting and he’ll have a HUGE bruise on his back tomorrow from the puck shots Bruce can’t help but smile as he picks up the black, solid puck and holds it in his hand. When the Renegade is close enough Bruce hurls the puck with all his might like he was a Major League pitcher and sends it flying straight at Renegade’s head




Fortunately the only thing Bruce cracked was the protective plexiglass and not Renegade’s head as he manages to duck under the flying object. With the puck strategy backfiring the Renegade changes gears and skates at Bruce, shifting direction at the last moment to throw Bruce off. Renegade circles back around Bruce, going behind the goal to attack his opponent from the other side.


The moment Renegade passes behind the goal Bruce throws himself to the side and shoulder tackles the hockey goal sending it straight into the Renegade knocking down to the ice. With the Renegade finally down Bruce is able to use his hockey stick to hook one of Renegade’s skates and pull the challenger closer.


“Renegade has been very successful at keeping out of arm’s reach and still doing damage to Bruce but now he’s in trouble.” NTD astutely points out.


“There is no doubt that the stick and move strategy would be the best way to beat Bruce”


With Renegade sliding towards him Bruce balls up his right hand and then strikes Renegade on the jaw just as he comes within range of Bruce’s fist. Due to Newton’s laws of motion Bruce’s blow to Renegade also scoots himself across the ice a little bit and he has to crawl back towards his opponent to get another shot it. With his left hand on Renegade’s shirt he begins to let the left hands rain down over the back of his opponent as he pulls the hockey jersey forward to try and block Renegade’s arms from moving


“Now we’re talking!! Forget the little sticks and that burnt Oreo they play with and just let the fists fly!!” NTD says as the action picks up.


“We are witnessing a battle of such scientific proportions that you’d need a microscope to detect it.” Curry Man says


“What the hell does that mean?” NTD asks all confused.


“It means that they’re not using much in the way of wrestling moves” Curry Man explains, dumbing down his analogy for NTD’s sake.


Bruce actually manages to get back up on his skates again as he punches away at Renegade’s back. Then he locks his opponent in a front headlock and grabs hold of Renegade’s tights.


“A suplex on the ice?” apparently NTD doesn’t agree with Bruce’s tactics.


“Man that’s GOT to hurt”


Bruce tries to drag Renegade up to his feet so that he can be suplex, but his opponent fights it and thus causes Bruce’s legs to start to slide in opposite directions as if the big man was a little deer out on the ice for the first time. Renegade counters the suplex before Bruce can do an extreme split that’d hurt his masculinity no end and snap-suplexes Bruce from a kneeling position




“Oh man Bruce’s spine just to rattled on the ice.” Curry Man says as he winces in pain.


Where Curry winced in sympathy Bruce writhes in agony from having his body slammed down against the cold, hard, unforgiving ice by the Renegade Masta. Renegade gets up on his skates once more, grabs Bruce by his greasy hair and then drags / hurls the big man up against the rail.


“Renegade is playing it smart here, he’s using the ice to his advantage. I mean there is no way he’d be able to toss a guy as big as Bruce that far in a ring but the slippery nature of the ice made it look easy” Curry Man points out


“Yes thank you Professor Curry” NTD says annoyed at Curry’s use of fancy words.


Bruce puts one hand on the top of the railing and pulls himself back to his feet. If he was happy to finally be somewhere he could cling on that joy is short lived as Renegade skates up on him from behind, ducks his shoulder and…




Shoulder checks him up against the railing




Renegade quickly moves away from his bigger opponent using his skills on the skates to keep in control. Bruce sits on the ice for a moment and catches his breath, then he puts his hand up on the top of the railing once more and pulls himself up. Renegade sees this, comes at him from behind and…






”THAT KNOCKED HIM CLEAN OVER THE RAIL!!” Curry Man yells out in excitement as Bruce goes sailing over the railing and lands somewhere by the entrance way out of sight if everyone in the arena.


“Stop this pussy Hockey crap! This is the SWF! W stands for Wrestling not “We screw around with a puck” damn it” NTD rants but is totally ignored by his co-commentator.


With Bruce knocked over the rail the Renegade does a quick victory lap in the ice rink as he raises his hockey stick over his head in victory. He usually doesn’t acknowledge the crowd but with the entire arena chanting your name it’s hard not to.


“Where is Bruce? Could someone go check on the champ?” NTD asks worriedly.


NTD is worried because there hasn’t been any sight of Bruce after he got knocked over the railing, no indication of if he’s still conscious or what. Renegade skates over to where he knocked Bruce over the rail and looks for him, then he looks around all confused – apparently Bruce isn’t there any more.




“Great Bone of Malone what is that?” Curry Man asks as he hears an engine starting.


“That can only mean one thing” NTD says


Moments later a large red and white monster of a machine drives towards the hockey rink with Bruce behind the wheel.




Apparently Bruce crawled to the back and found the Zamboni all lined up ready to clean the ice after the match is over. With a sinister grin Bruce quickly drives the Zamboni onto the ice (knocking the gate open) and starts to chase Renegade with the big machine.




“Now we’re talking!! Run the idiot over!! Clean his clock” NTD says as he finally finds something to cheer for in the match.


“That’s Grand Theft Auto!”


“I never played that” NTD casually replies knowing full well that’s not what Curry Man meant.


After chasing the Renegade around the ice for a while Bruce finally manages to corner his opponent behind the goal line and uses the Zamboni to block his escape route. He turns off the engine and steps off the big machine. As he climbs down it’s immediately noticeable that Bruce found the time to change from skates to his cowboy boots which seem more comfortable to him.


“That’s a mistake, those boots will never get a grip on the ice” Curry Man states with all the knowledge of someone who took high school science for a semester.


The moment Bruce steps off the zamboni he proves Curry Man wrong though as he stomps his feet so hard that the heel of the boot is driven into the ice and thus provides a little bit of grip for him. As the Ultraviolent champion approaches the trapped Renegade he holds up a black object that he’s been concealing behind his back.


The moment the spotlight gleams off the blade everyone in the audience gasps in horror


“An ice skate?? Those things can be razor sharp!!” Curry Man says dreading the worst.


“Oh yeah baby” NTD replies, wishing for the worst.


Bruce can’t help but laugh as he’s got his opponent trapped and a sharp weapon in his hand, his favorite position to be in. With a quick lunge Bruce swings the skate blade at Renegade aiming straight at his head




Renegade is able to duck under the blade and Bruce’s arm at the last moment avoiding a serious injury. Bruce isn’t about to let the Renegade out of his grip though and quickly trips his opponent up by sticking out his boot as Renegade tries to move past him. With Renegade down Bruce quickly reaches down and grabs his opponent around the blade making sure his fingers don’t get in contact with the sharp edge. Then with all his might he begins to swing the 260 pound Renegade around in a circle, gripping his skate tightly.


“In pairs figure skating that’s called a Death Spiral – very fitting” NTD comments.


“You watch figure skating?” Curry Man says with surprise.


“Oh go eat a plate of Sum Yung Gai” NTD counters.


Bruce manages to get two full revolutions on his spin before he lets go of Renegade’s skate, sending the Renegade master skidding across the ice sending his shoulder and head first into the side of the rail right by where the SWF team is seated.




When Renegade turns around to try and get back up the fans in the arena can tell that he’s been busted open on impact as blood starts to run down the right side of his head and drip onto the ice. Bruce can’t help but smile and take a moment to celebrate as he thinks he’s got the match under control. Sadly for Bruce the showboating was a mistake as it allows Renegade a moment to gather himself and formulate a plan. The second Bruce is upon Renegade the Renegade Masta reaches up and grabs Bruce by the shirt and pulls him forward dropping him chest first on the railing right by the SWF team.




Moments later Renegade is on his feet and he clotheslines Bruce over the rail and into the players box where the original Ghost Machine takes the opportunity to start to pounce away on Bruce with a series of right hands.


“Looks like V1 is trying to get revenge for what Bruce did to V2” Curry Man says


“Can robots hate?” NTD asks.


“Well looking at Ghost Machine they certainly can suck!”


Renegade quickly hops over the rail and then kicks Ghost Machine V1 out of the way so that he can attack Bruce himself. The ‘gade tackles Bruce up against the bench landing on top of Jason Von Dierch who just kinda sits there and takes it without fighting back.


“I see Von Dierch is up to his usual tricks” NTD says and sniggers.


Moments later the two fighters make their way down towards the end of the player’s bench where the SWF reserve Ced Ordonez is huddled up trying desperately to protect his sore neck (see he’s wearing a neck brace, it’s got to be hurting) from further damage


“NOO!!! NOOO!! I’ve been Demonstar Driven – spare me” Ced pleads


“Oh come on, yes it was a Demonstra Driver but it Landon did it, it’s not like it was expertly done” Curry Man scoffs.


Renegade pauses for a moment to give Ced a break, but a moment is all Bruce needs as he grabs Renegade around the waist and then hoist him up and over his head throwing Renegade right into the arms of Devon Walters who catches the Renegade without problems. Bruce turns around and comes face to face with “???” Team SWF’s secret surprise


“Bruce and “???” holy shit this could be explosive!! I mean “???” is one of the most enigmatic characters ever devised” Curry Man says.


“You never know what to expect from “???” NTD adds


Instead of punching “???” or anything else Bruce just casually kicks him in the nuts and then turns his attention back towards the Renegade who’s just been put down by Devon Walters.


“??? Disappoints…. that seems to be his pattern” NTD says as once again the “???” appearance doesn’t live up to it’s hype.


Bruce picks up a hockey stick and takes a swing at Renegade, but his opponent ducks under the wood and then tries to grab the stick out of Bruce’s hand. With four hands on the hockey stick both wrestlers try to pry the stick out of the other guy’s hands to get the advantage. During their struggle they stumble backwards and knock Another Octopus off his chair to the ground.




“Oh – Oh They’ve done made him mad!!” Curry Man says as Another Octopus begins to thrash it’s arms around it wildly grabbing at everything it can get it’s hands on.


“Never piss off Another Octopus – I’ve always said that.”


Both Bruce and Renegade duck for cover as Hockey sticks and helmets and other loose items that Another Octopus can get it’s tentacles on are thrown at them in rapid fashion




With an enraged Octopus flinging debris around both Bruce and Renegade make a hasty retreat to the locker rooms followed closely behind by referee Izzy Slappowitch.


Once Izzy is inside the locker room Bruce quickly locks the door to make sure that Another Octopus cannot enter and attack them again. The moment he turns around he’s greeted by a close-up of a goalie’s helmet as the Renegade headbuts Bruce across the bridge of the nose.


“Great Wall of China! That caught Bruce totally off guard” Curry Man says as Bruce staggers backwards and leans against the door with both hands holding his nose.


“I see blood, he’s bleeding profusely from the nose Curry”


Renegade tries a running attack but since he’s still on skates he’s not able to move very well on the concrete floor without risking breaking a leg. When Bruce sees this he immediately tries to attack Renegade by hooking his leg with a hockey stick. Even though he’s half out of his mind with pain and with blood just pouring from his nose Bruce is actually one of the luckiest men alive right now as the tip of the hockey stick lodges over Renegade’s skate blade and pulls him to the ground with a loud thud.


“Neither of these guys seem to slow down at all” Curry Man says.


With Renegade down Bruce takes a moment to look around for another weapon, but his weapon search is interrupted as he spots a wallet sticking out of someone’s pants that are hanging in the locker room. With a sly grin Bruce quickly grabs the wallet, pulls out the cash and pockets it before throwing the now empty wallet over his shoulder so he can focus on the match.


“That bastard!! That utter bastard!” Curry Man says while seething.


“Like you wouldn’t do the same – hell you steal money every time you cash your paycheck” NTD says as he laughs at Bruce’s blatant stealing.


Renegade is still on the ground but he kicks out at Bruce hoping to cut him with his skate as the big man tries to gain the advantage. Bruce leaps out of the way of the blade and then grabs Renegade by the skate and begins to tug and tear on it until he manages to pull Renegade’s right skate off him.


“Armed and dangerous, that’s how I like my Ultraviolent champions” NTD states


“There’s only been ONE Ultraviolent champion buddy” Curry Man corrects him.


“And he’s my favorite one!”


Bruce tosses the skate at Renegade hoping to strike him in the head, but his opponent is too fast and rolls out of the way so that the skate just bounces off the concrete. Renegade knows he needs some distance to Bruce if he’s going to get back in the match and quickly crawls away from Bruce, under a bench and towards the other end of the locker room


“DENIED!” NTD yells out as Bruce grabs hold of Renegade’s waistband and stops him from crawling all the way under the bench and out of his grasp. With one knee on Renegade’s lower back Bruce is quickly able to grab a towel off a peg and then wrap it around Renegade’s throat from behind.


“What in the name of Chicken Curry is Bruce doing?” Curry Man asks as Bruce begins to pull backwards on the towel.


“It looks like he’s using the bench to his advantage” NTD says.


And he’s quite right, Bruce has one knee on Renegade’s back keeping him in position half way under the bench but he’s also using the towel to choke Renegade and pull him backwards in a sort of Camel Clutch variation that drives the back of his neck against the hard edge of the bench.


“This is sick! He could break Renegade’s neck with that move if he pulls back hard enough” Curry Man says outraged


“Yeah I know, ain’t it great?”


“It’s sick”


“It’s Ultraviolent baby!” NTD replies.


Bruce loosens his grip on the towel for just a moment to adjust his position, but a moment to breath and to act is all Renegade needs as he desperately needs to get out of this predicament. The Renegade Masta quickly grabs the towel and pulls forward with both hands as hard as he can. The move takes Bruce by surprise and he’s pulled straight down face first into the bench.




“Now that’s how you counter a move!” Curry Man says


“Really? They taught you that in wrestling school: Use a bench to counter a Camel Clutch” NTD jokes


With Bruce dazed Renegade is able to crawl all the way under the bench and get back to his feet for a breather. Even though he’s gasping for air due to the choke Renegade is still thinking, still plotting his next move. Eying an opportunity Renegade leaps up on the behind, grabs Bruce around the head from behind and then pulls backwards with all his force to hit a Pulling Neckbreaker on Bruce




“RIGHT THROUGH THE DAMN BENCH!!” Curry Man says as Bruce’s body is used to shatter the bench in the locker room.


“It looks like Izzy is about to start the first count of the match, is this enough to keep Bruce down for a10 count?”




Renegade is on his feet, catching his breath after the flurry of action so far, staying back so that he doesn’t interrupt Izzy’s count.




Bruce is also breathing heavy as he lays on the ground, his breathing is much more labored and hampered by the fact that he’s probably got a broken nose from the headbutt earlier in the match.




Izzy Slappowitch holds up three fingers to signify how far he’s made it, so far Bruce has moved but not made an attempt to get up.

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At four Bruce finally sits up, looking daze and like he doesn’t really know where he is, but he’s sitting up none the less.




Bruce looks at Izzy like he was an alien or something weird that he just doesn’t recognize in his dazed state.




Apparently he recognizes the count of six as he starts to stand up, it’s not steady but he is getting to his feet.




“Bruce is up!! Bruce survived the first count of the match, but will he survive another one if Renegade has his way?”


“No way NTD! No freaking way!”


With Bruce up Renegade springs into action again as he takes a 5 step run in and then spears Bruce in the mid section, driving the big man backwards into the fire escape door, knocking it open with the impact of both bodies being hurled against it.








“They set off the fire alarm” Curry Man tries to say over the noise


“What? I can’t hear you they set off the fire alarm by opening the door” NTD replies.






Both Bruce and Renegade stumble to the ground as the door opens and they fall out the fire escape.






Thankfully the Arena security is able to turn the alarm off quickly after it being set off. Izzy quickly steps outside and yells at the two wrestlers to stop fighting and even has the arena security separate them for a moment.


“We’re outside the building! The rules state that anything is legal INSIDE the building so let’s just go back in that doo…” is all Izzy says before the heavy fire door slam shut


“Oh crap!” is all Izzy can say as the door can’t be opened from the outside.


Izzy looks at the two wrestlers being separated by security, then he looks at the fire door to see if it magically sprung open. But no luck it’s locked.


“*Sigh* I guess we’ll have to go around to the front entrance. But no fighting! If you so much as touch each other until we’re inside I’ll award the match to the other guy” Izzy warns them, well aware of Bruce’s sneaky ways and not prepared to deal with them out here in the open.


Bruce takes the front as they begin to head around the Arizona Hockey Arena to the main entrance, Izzy stays a few steps behind him to make sure there is no contact between him and the Renegade. With the break in the action a kind soul gives Renegade a pair of boots he can put on instead of the ONE skate he’s wearing at the moment.


“So… “ NTD says not sure what to say to fill out the awkward pause in the action.


“How about them Coyotes” Curry Man says trying to pass the time.


“Yeah they sure are mediocre” is all NTD can think off.


After a couple of moment of uncomfortable back and forth later and the wrestlers and the referee has finally reached the front entrance. Bruce opens the glass door and heads inside to the lobby only to be greeted by a ticket taker who holds up his hand and smiles as he’s learned to do in his training video


“Ticket sir?”


Bruce doesn’t have a ticket of course, but thinks that it’s a shame to leave the poor kid with nothing at all, so he clenches his fist and punches the ticket taker square in the jaw for asking such a stupid question.


Once inside the arena the match can begin again and the Renegade is quick to attack Bruce by jumping up on his back and locking on a sleeper hold on his giant opponent.


“Now that’s a brilliant move NTD! If he can keep this on Bruce will be out cold in no time” Curry Man points out.


“No one’s ever made Bruce pass out from a sleeper Curry! I don’t think Renegade can either” NTD states more or less categorically.


With Renegade on his back with a sleeper locked in Bruce can’t really see where he’s going as he staggers backwards, but when his hand touches the edge of a table he quickly slams his entire body backwards driving both the Renegade and himself through a table with his opponent being sandwiched between the table and Bruce.




“HE JUST BROKE THE SODA STAND!!” NTD yells out as cups of soda and bags of cotton candy goes flying everywhere from the impact.


“Man I’m glad I don’t have to mop that sticky mess up” Curry Man says


“Yeah makes a nice change for you doesn’t it?”




Since the Renegade bore brunt of the impact Bruce quickly back on his feet ready to pound his opponent into submission. With one hand on Renegade’s hair and another on the back of his shirt Bruce is able to drag Renegade to his feet and then send him face first into the side of the popcorn machine.




The glass breaks!! Popcorn flies everywhere!! Renegade falls to the ground bleeding from his face in several places where the glass cut him!!




Izzy quickly begins the count as the Renegade is laid out in the concession stand area of the Arizona Hockey Arena.




Bruce takes the opportunity to grab one of the few unspilled glasses of soda and takes a swig from it trying to get some energy back.




Renegade’s legs are twitching, he’s not out of it yet






As Bruce watches the count he apparently feels a bit hungry as he grabs a hot dog off the hot dog stand and takes a bite out of it.




“Is he going to pay for that?” Curry Man asks.


“What do you think?”




Renegade is up on his knees, shaken but determined to not stay down.




Bruce looks a little worried or a little pissed as the Renegade is about to stand up.




Bloodied, cut and bruised the Renegade rises to his full height and gives Bruce the finger to indicate that this is FAR from over. Bruce visibly sighs and then just drops his hot dog and soda to charge at the Renegade. Bruce ducks down and obviously wants to tackle the Renegade but his opponent thinks quickly and grabs a tray off the table.




The spear knocks both of them to the ground with a thud. As Bruce rolls off the Renegade we can see the shattered remains of the tray that was trapped between them.


“Man I think they BOTH got hurt on that one” Curry Man says as both Bruce and Renegade are down




“Yeah but Renegade definitely got the worst of it”




The crowd is on their feet in the arena hoping to dear god that this doesn’t end in a double count out.




At four Bruce sits up straight while the Renegade slowly rolls over onto his stomach brushing the pieces of the tray off his chest.




Bruce uses his shirt to wipe some of the blood from his face, trying to get some of it out of his eye so he can see straight again.




“Who expected this kind of carnage?” Curry Man asks.


“I certainly did, this is trademark Ultraviolent mayhem!” NTD replies




At 6 Bruce grabs hold of the edge of one of the other tables and uses it to pull himself up




Bruce is upright and the count is now only for the Renegade who’s on his knees still.




Renegade goes down deep and pulls out all of his resources and pushes off against the ground.




And stands up before the ten count.


“I can’t believe this!! These guys have hit each other with everything yet they’re both standing.” Curry Man says


Just to prove Curry Man wrong that they haven’t hit each other with EVERYTHING yet Bruce reaches out and grabs something off one of the merchandising tables.


A “Dace Night Foam Weedwacker©”? huh.gif


Bruce just stares at the most ridiculous object ever shaped in foam trying to wrap his mind around what kind of person would actually buy one of these. But before he can figure it out Renegade grabs an Insane Luchador t-shirt and throws it over Bruce’s head and tightens it in the back to blind Bruce.


“How fitting” Curry Man says without any further explanation


“The shirt? I think it’s actually a size too small Curry” NTD says all confused.


“No that it’s an Insane Luchador shirt, Renegade wouldn’t be in the fight of his life it wasn’t for his best friend.” Curry Man explains.


“Some friend” is all NTD says.


Renegade twists the T-shirt in his hand, tightening his grip on it and choking Bruce out with the part that’s wrapped around his throat. Since he’s in the command position Renegade can take the time he needs to recover from the beating while keeping Bruce under control. After composing himself for a moment he pulls on the T-shirt and whips Bruce into the side of the t-shirt stand, shifting the whole thing 3 – 4 feet across the floor.


“Did you ever wonder why there are no blind people in wrestling? That’s why” Curry Man says


“No I never wondered that at all.” NTD replies.


With Bruce in no position to defend himself Renegade quickly picks up the big man and body slams Bruce on top of the t-shirt table.






“Hey did you see if they had any NTD shirts out there” NTD asks as the t-shirts go flying every which way.


“Honestly I doubt it”


Even after being slammed through a table Bruce isn’t about to stay down as he reaches out blindly for anything to help him get back to his feet. Renegade quickly grabs one of the souvenir title belts off the table and strikes Bruce over the head with it.




“Talk about adding injury to insult, that was a replica of the Ultraviolent title” Curry Man says


“Well technically it’s the old Hardcore Gamer’s belt Curry” NTD corrects him


But no matter what belt it was the effect is the same, Bruce is knocked flat on his back.




Bruce lays there on the ground in the rubble from the broken table, with the t-shirt still wrapped around his head.




Renegade has to lean against the wall as he watches Izzy Slappowitch count the Ultraviolent champion down




Bruce’s hand slowly creeps up towards the t-shirt and pulls it off to reveal the mess that is Bruce’s face.




With a hand firmly planted on the ground Bruce manages to push himself over onto his front.




Breathing heavily Bruce isn’t able to push himself up the moment he’s turned over, instead he has to lay there and catch his breath before he can go on.




Slowly, ever so slowly Bruce pushes up and sits on his knees as he struggles to get back to his feet and save his championship




“Is this how it’ll end?? After 193 days with the title is tonight the night Bruce loses it?” Curry Man asks as everyone is watching Bruce struggle to get to his feet.




With one cowboy boot planted on the ground Bruce gathers all his strength and hopes it’s enough to bring him back to his feet.




Working more on instinct than intelligence Bruce is actually able to stand up at the very last moment and yanks victory out of Renegade’s hands. Bruce grabs the closet thing on the table which is a thick leather strap and swings at the Renegade as he comes towards him.


“Why the hell are they selling leather straps??” NTD asks.


“Oh that’s part of the “commemorative” line – it’s in memory of the legendary Toxxic / Janus match” Curry Man explains.


Fortunately for Renegade he’s better at avoiding the strap than Toxxic was and he manages to tackle Bruce through the curtains into the actual arena. The moment Bruce and the Renegade come through the curtains and into the arena again the crowd goes wild and begins to cheer, after all there is nothing like seeing the action live instead of on the giant TV screens.




Bruce ducks under a clothesline from the Renegade and then quickly tosses his smaller, lighter opponent across 2 rows of seats by grabbing him by the arm and tights in a awesome display of power. The flying Renegade quickly makes people scurry away and duck for cover as the fight is taken to the stands.


“I bet none of these people thought they’d get this close to the action” says Curry Man


“Yeah no kidding, they’re in the cheap seats” NTD points out.


Renegade lies across 3-4 seats as he winces in pain from being tossed against the metal seats. With Renegade down Bruce picks up a camera that someone left behind when they ran off and quickly snaps a couple of pictures of the Renegade as he’s laying there bleeding on a very nice jacket someone left behind.


“So is he like a tourist or something now?” Curry Man asks.


Bruce turns around and sees the guy that was sitting in one of the seats that the Renegade is now occupying and hands him the camera


“There ya go, for insurance purposes” Bruce says with a shit eating grin.


After handing the camera over Bruce turns back towards the Renegade but before he can attack Renegade once more his opponent desperately reaches for anything to use as a weapon. His hand grasps something and he immediately swings at Bruce striking him over the head with a woman’s purse.




But it doesn’t really hurt Bruce much, he’s more surprised than hurt actually.


“What? But… but there’s supposed to be a brick in there” NTD says


“What are you talking about?”


“There is always a brick in women’s purses, it’s just how it is” NTD explains.


“You’ve been watching too wrestling pal” Curry says


Quickly shaking off the soft battering with the cushy purse Bruce bends over to grab the Renegade once more, but once again his opponent reaches out blindly and gets hold of something that he swings at Bruce.




“It’s the SHOE OF DOOM!!” Curry Man yells out as the Renegade strikes Bruce with the heel of a woman’s shoe right in the side of the head.


Bruce staggers backwards


Then swings blindly at nothing like he isn’t sure where he is and then falls flat on his ass from the impact.


“That’s got to be one of the deadliest most lethal weapons in wrestling” NTD says


“It certainly looks like it”


“Damn women! They’ve got no place in wrestling I tells ya”




Izzy quickly begins to count as Bruce is flat on his back, eyes closed and all.




Renegade takes one of the nearest seats to get a moment to breath and recover as Izzy counts away at Bruce with the crowd joining in as well.




After three Bruce barely moves his arm, his eyes are open but they look glazed over.




Bruce is able to turn over onto his stomach but it’s obvious that it takes a lot of effort on the Ultraviolent champion’s part to do even that.




He’s able to push himself up to his knees for a second, then sways back and forth before falling forward onto his hands once more.




Renegade just sits there and watches as Bruce shakes his head, trying to clear the cobwebs from the devastating blow.




Bruce is a mess, he’s bleeding all over especially from the nose and he’s all dazed and confused as he clings on to one of the arena seats as he places one foot on the ground




Renegade gets up, the excitement of the count is getting to him and he wants to be ready in case Bruce manages to get back to his feet before the 10 count.




The Ultraviolent champion pushes himself up towards a standing position, he’s wobbly legged and it’s quite a struggle for him.




“HE GOT UP!!” NTD yells in excitement.


“You alright there buddy?” Curry Man asks out of the blue.


“What are you talking about? Of course I’m alright”


“Well it’s just that you’ve not made one reference to pants all night long” Curry Man says a little worried.


“Ah that. Well I’m on this twelve step program to help cure me of that, I’m on step 11 so I’m almost there” NTD explains.


Renegade so rudely interrupts their conversation about pants and 12 step programs and whatnot by tackling Bruce through a door into a private sky box


“They’re in the VIP box right next to ours” Curry Man says as he can hear them fight right on the other side of the door.


“Scurry rich people, scurry out and mingle with the riff-raff who can’t afford a sky box” NTD says as Renegade throws Bruce into the VIP lounge drinks cart sending bottles and glasses and ice flying everywhere.


Renegade quickly picks up what looks to be a very expensive Cognac bottle and holds it by the neck like a club. When Bruce is up on his knees again Renegade aims the bottle at Bruce’s bleeding forehead and swings. Luckily for Bruce he’s able to duck under the bottle so Renegade ends up striking the metal cart instead.




“Who’s picking up the tab for that? Cause that stuff can be expensive” Curry Man asks.


“Why do you care? It’s not like they ask you to pay it” NTD quickly fires back.


When Renegade broke the bottle it spilled Cognac all over the floor and Bruce’s left arm, soaking the sleeve of his blood spattered hockey jersey. The Gade looks around, spots a smoldering Frost Brand© Cigar in an ashtray, grabs it and then lights Bruce’s sleeve on fire as the big man makes his way to his feet.


“HOLY SHIT HE’S ON FIRE!!” NTD yells as a flame begins to engulf Bruce’s left sleeve.


Bruce just stands there for a moment, seemingly unaware that he’s on fire. Then he sniffs the air and looks down at his left arm to see the shirt on fire. The moment he sees the fire he starts to flail his arm around trying to swat the fire out before it does actual damage to his skin and not just the hockey jersey.


“Someone put him out damn it!!”


“Oh calm down” Curry Man says


“Calm down? Have you ever been on fire?” NTD asks angrily.


“Hey I was on fire every time I stepped into the ring baby!!” Curry Man jokes.


Bruce finally manages to swat the fire out before it does too much damage to his arm. And just to prove that his arm didn’t take any damage he catches Renegade on the attack and quickly presses the 260 pound Renegade Master up over his head for a gorilla press.


“Is it called a gorilla press because Bruce looks like Donkey Kong about to throw a barrel??”


“He’s about to throw a Renegade is what he’s about to do” NTD replies and looks forward to some flying Renegade action.


Bruce turns and looks at the window that separates the sky box from arena and formulates an idea. The moment Bruce steps towards the glass the audience cry out in horror and shock at what Bruce has in mind


“DON’T DO IT!!” Curry Man screams


“Man that’ll be some drop” is all NTD can say.


Bruce uses all his force and throws the 260 pound Renegade forward aiming his face at the glass for maximum impact






The glass doesn’t break on impact and Renegade slowly slides down the glass as he draws a streak of blood across it. Bruce picks the Renegade one more time, this time by the hair and the back of the trunks and then tosses his opponent forward into the glass once more.




“That must be shatter proof glass!! Oh thank god for that” Curry Man says as he draws a breath of relief.


“Yeah but Renegade isn’t thanking anyone, he just got rammed face first into the glass – TWICE!! He’ll feel that one in the morning”


After hitting the glass at full speed not once but twice in 10 seconds Renegade slumps to the ground




Izzy Slappowitch begins the count as the Renegade just lies on the plush carpet of the VIP box.








”The fans want to see him get back up and kick Bruce’s ass!”




“Yeah but just cause they want to see it doesn’t make it happen” NTD points out




Renegade slowly rolls over on the carpet.




At six Bruce grabs a metal tray off the drinks cart that the two of them busted earlier and raises it over his head.




“He hit Izzy!!” Curry Man yells out as Bruce surprisingly didn’t strike Renegade over the head but instead struck Izzy Slappowitch over the back of the head as he raised his hands for the “7” count.


“Well GOOD! Damn idiot was trying to stop Bruce from beating up the Renegade” NTD says.


“Good? He struck a referee – that’s ILLEGAL! He should be fined, fired, suspended!” Curry Man rants.


“Actually it’s not illegal, nothing in the rules says he can’t strike a referee.” NTD points out.


The massive Bruce towers over the fallen Izzy Slappowitch as he just stands there and grins as he surveys the damage he’s done. With Bruce distracted Renegade has been able to get up to his feet again and is showing that he’s far from beaten by telling Bruce what he thinks of him via the use of one single finger




“How rude!” NTD says


Bruce does a double take as he turns around and sees the Renegade still able to fight and able to flip him off.


“Man I’ve been meaning to ask you this NTD, why did you put that box by my feet” Curry Man complains


“What box?”


“This black wooden box under our ta.. “ Curry Man begins to say but is quickly cut off by NTD


“SHHHHHHHHHHHH Renegade might hear you”


But Renegade isn’t really paying attention to the announcers, he’s busy staying on his feet and keeping Bruce at bay in the VIP room right next to the announcer’s booth. After getting over the initial shock of Renegade still being in the match Bruce decides that the best action is directness so he charges straight at his opponent, squares his wide shoulders and






“HOLY CRAP RENEGADE DUCKED!!” Curry Man says as he leaps from his chair to get out of the way of the stumbling Bruce who just broke through the thin wall between the VIP box and the Announcers Booth.


“Fucking hell!” NTD says as he leaps to his feet as well to get out of the way of the action in front of them.


“Well it’s nice to see you like my Christmas present” Curry Man says as he sees NTD without his pants on instead dressed in nothing but a pair of “Curry Man” boxers from the waist on down.


“Erm…” is all NTD can say


“I think you need to go back to step one”


Renegade steps through the hole in the wall, waves some of the drywall dust out of his face and then proceeds to pick up the black box that Curry Man was talking about just moments ago. With Bruce rising to his feet Renegade doesn’t have time to open the box but instead grabs the wooden box by the handle and swings it at Bruce




The box hits Bruce square in the chest sending dust flying everywhere as Bruce’s shirt is still covered in drywall dust from where he had his break through. Renegade eyes an opportunity to finish the match as he sees Bruce staggered by the impact. He drops the box and then climbs up on the announcers table and waits for Bruce to get in just the right position.


“Am I still on?” Curry Man asks as they scramble to get out of the way of whatever Renegade has in mind.


“Sadly yes we can still hear you” NTD replies.


Renegade leaps off the announce table obviously trying to land a flying Renebreak on Bruce. The second the Renegade gets his hands on Bruce the big man reveals that he’s not as staggered as he pretended to be as he quickly wraps his arms around the Renegade to catch him in mid air.


Turns around and then tosses Renegade forward over the announce table.


Into the glass




“HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOLY SHIT!!” Curry Man yells out as it becomes apparent that the windows in the announcers booth isn’t as shatterproof as the windows in the VIP sky box.


In the midst of the rain of glass shards Renegade actually manages to twist his body and grab hold of the edge of the window to prevent himself from falling any further down. The entire arena breathes a sigh of relief as a bloodied and battered Renegade hangs from his right hand.


“No! No! No! No! No! No!” either NTD or Curry Man yells out as Bruce grabs the black box and slams it down over Renegade’s right hand.




Renegade releases his grip and drops down


About a foot or so


“Oh thank god I thought he was going to fall further” Curry Man says as he had not realized that there was a walk way right in front of the announcer’s booth.


“I’m getting too old for this shit” NTD says as Bruce leaves the announcer’s booth, black box in tow.


With some distance between Bruce and the Renegade the Ultraviolent champion finally has the opportunity to flip the latch on the black box and open it. Then he slowly puts his hand into the box while he’s laughing a very disconcerting laugh and pulls out


A 2 by 4 with what looks like 30-40 nails through it at one end.


“OH SHIT!” is all Curry Man can say at the sight of the nails sticking through the wood.


“If I didn’t know it was a deadly weapon I’d say it was an oversized comedy toothbrush – but those are not bristles, they’re 9 inch nails!!” NTD says as he leaps out of his chair in surprise over the weapon Bruce just pulled out.


Bruce grips the 2 by 4 with both hands as he runs down the 4 steps from the booth to the level where Renegade is and then SWINGS straight at Renegade’s chest






The nails strike Renegade square in the chest with the force of the blow and the impact of the 40 or so nails driving him backwards staggering towards the stairs leading down to the arena floor. The crowd screams in horror, first over the sickening display of brutality by Bruce and then over the fact that the Renegade is perilously close to


Going over the edge!!


“He slipped on the top step” Curry Man yells out in horror as the Renegade tumbles backwards down the steps flipping over several times along the way as he flails uncontrollably trying to break his fall. The crowd roars in horror but then grows quiet as the Renegade slams down against the floor at the bottom of the steps.


“UNREAL! Bruce knew exactly what he was doing when he hit Renegade with that… that damn Ultraviolent toothbrush of his.” NTD says, even he has his limits and Bruce just passed it.


As Bruce begins to walk down the steps he holds up the 2 by 4 and smiles like he just won a billion dollars.




With Bruce being 3-4 steps away from reaching the Renegade referee Izzy Slappowitch finally reappears after Bruce knocked him out earlier in the match. Slappowitch looks a little shaken but otherwise okay since he’s had some time to recover.


“He should just end it right now, the Renegade is OUT!” NTD says


“I’m afraid so, he could probably count to 100” Curry Man admits.


Bruce doesn’t let Izzy begin the count on the downed Renegade but instead drops the 2 by 4 and then grabs his opponent by the hair and drags his lifeless body upright. Even though he’s exhausted from a long and hard fought match Bruce flips his opponent’s body over his shoulder looking for a power slam on the concrete.


“It’s over Bruce, you’ve already won!!” Curry Man pleads.


“A running power bomb? If he hits this Renegade won’t be able to walk out of here under his own power” NTD points out.


Bruce points at the door that separates the floor section with the ice rink and makes Izzy open it even though it’s obviously not what he’d really like to do (let that be a lesson boys and girls, if you beat up a referee he will be easier to intimidate)


“He wants to slam him onto the ice? You sick bastard!!”


With the door open Bruce begins to run forward, then as he reaches the edge of the ice he leaps into the air a little


Brings Renegade’s limp body down in front of him with both arms wrapped around his waist and then…






“FUCK ME A RUNNING TOMBSTONE??” Curry Man yells out as Bruce shocks the entire arena with one of the most brutal moves ever seen.


Bruce and Renegade slide across the ice from the forward momentum drawing a long streak of blood across it as a gory indicator of how brutal the match has been.




Izzy Slappowitch quickly begins to count Renegade down hoping to god that this will end the match and save Renegade from further injury.




“I’ve never EVER seen a running Tombstone before” NTD says being both impressed and amazed by it.




“Renegade isn’t moving! Just call for the bell” Curry Man says, wishing that the match was over and that the Renegade could get the medical help that he so obviously needs.




With Renegade stretched out cold in the foreground we see Bruce stagger back towards the door as he roars like a savage in victory




At five Renegade has yet to move, not even a muscle.




Bruce returns to the ice with the Ultraviolent toothbrush in one hand and the Ultraviolent title in the other already celebrating his victory even if he is a 4 count away.




With the Renegade still not moving it looks like Bruce’s celebration isn’t premature though and he very well knows it




“He’s not even TRYING to move” NTD says


“Good, neck trauma can be made worse if you try to move” Curry Man quickly adds.










The crowd explodes in boos and jeers and trash throwing as Izzy Slappowitch points to Bruce to declare him the winner. Bruce wipes some of the blood off his face and then quickly turns to the nearest camera as part of his post match celebration


“Do you see that Rickmen??” Bruce says so violently that he sprays a bit of blood on the camera lens “Because of you he’s gone through hell! If you think that I’ll take it any easier on you then you’re dumber than I thought! You want a piece of me? You’re not Insane… you’ve got a death wish!!”


And with that Bruce walks over to the Renegade, runs his fingers through the Renegade’s crimson mask and then wipes Renegade’s blood on the face plate of the title now draped over his shoulder.


“That’s his blood on my hands Rickmen!! Soon it’ll be YOURS!!” Bruce bellows as the feed from the Arizona Hockey Arena ends.

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“…an’ that’s why I’m here, ya get me? All I wanna do is make sure that bastard’s alright, and then I can let me mam and dad know and it’ll be sorted.”


“So you intend to return home once you’ve found your brother?” Hojo asks as he and Amy round the corner.


“Maybe. I dunno, I mean I’m doin’ alright here an’ it’s sorta a laugh but I still don’t reckon Peters takes me serious, know what I mean? An’ I can’t be fucked to hang around some place where the boss thinks I’m nothing more than eye candy.”


“I can certainly see why someone of your abilities would not like to be pigeon-holed,” Hojo nods solemnly, then looks up and slows. “Ahh, I think this is where I leave you…”


Standing in the corridor outside Amy’s dressing room is Landon Maddix. And La Cucaracha doesn’t look the happiest bunny in the world right now.


“Y’alright Landon?” Amy says, pausing to plant a brief kiss on his cheek before disappearing into her dressing room with a “seeya around, Hiroshi!” The door shuts behind her, and Landon and Hiroshi Hojo are left facing each other.


“Mr. Maddix,” Hojo greets the former World Champion with a nod.


“That’s right,” Landon replies, “look, I’m not exactly in an autograph mood right now, so-”


“Mr. Maddix, I believe my partner had occasion to speak with you the other day,” Hojo smoothly interrupts him, placing both hands on his cane and planting it on the floor, “regarding your continued… obsession with Miss Stephen’s brother.” Landon looks oddly at him for a moment before realisation dawns.


“You’re Janus’s boss, aren’t you?” he says, but Hojo shakes his head.


“Indeed not; I am his partner. You are aware that he has been made Head of Security; think of me as a consultant, or advisor.” His smile reappears, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Mr. Maddix, please take my advice and pay heed to what my associate said. We can tolerate no excesses such as you have recently displayed, and if you continue to indulge yourself we shall be forced to resort to measures of extreme prejudice.”


“Indulge myself!?” Landon repeats incredulously, “you think that’s what I’m doing? That I’m going around hurting people for the fun of it?”


“It seems the only logical-”


“Screw logic!” Landon snarls, advancing on Hojo, “you know nothing about this!” Hojo brings his cane up to press against La Cucaracha’s chest, but Landon simply slaps it aside and glares at him. With a swift movement, he pushes Hojo from the face and knocks him to the floor. “I’m doing this for one reason; to get Toxxic back!" 'La Cucaracha' shouts, looking down at the small Asian man. "If the way I’m doing it doesn’t seem logical to you then I suggest you get in the ring for a couple of years and face off against people like him. Then maybe you’ll understand.” Landon takes a couple of deep breaths and seems to calm himself slightly, then narrows his eyes.


“Now, do you mind telling me what you were doing with Amy?”


“I... I was merely talking to her,” Hojo replies, rather surprised at Maddix's sudden outburst. As he reaches for his hat, Hojo looks past Landon at the dressing room door where Amy disappeared. “She’s a rather interesting young woman, is she not? I can’t profess to have understood every word she said, or even every sentence, but nonetheless… quite an intriguing person.”


“And you were talking to her… why?” Landon asks quietly, shifting position slightly to block Hojo’s view of the door. Hiroshi looks at him, and the ever-present smile changes to something a little more sinister as he climbs back to his feet.


“Why, just trying to understand her. Find out what makes her ‘tick’. You see Mr. Maddix, in this environment it is essential to understand context if we are to do our jobs properly. After all, we could hardly apply the same conditions here as we would in, say, an office block. In a company where men - and women - fight each other all the time, it would be ludicrous to try and prevent every fight, every little flare-up of temper. No,” Hojo continues, “here we must understand the workforce, find out the flashpoints, the triggers, what will spark off something dangerous, and we must learn to watch out for them. And of course, when we have this knowledge and we are able to tell what is normal and what is abnormal… why, then we can work out what forms of conduct are absolutely unacceptable.” He leans forward slightly. “And we can work out a suitable punishment for repeat offenders.”


“Try and work this out,” Landon replies through gritted teeth. “I’m not scared of Janus. I’m not scared of Johnson, who I hear you have working for you now. And I’m certainly not scared of you. I’m going to keep doing whatever I have to do to get Toxxic back here, and then I’m going to make him pay for what he’s done.”


“What he’s done,” Hojo muses, “which is?” Landon just snorts in laughter and turns away.


“You wouldn’t understand. But as far as it’s going to concern you and the Psycho Security Force; he’s broken more necks than I have, for starters…”

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“Born from Fire” fades and the sold out Phoenix crowd are buzzing with anticipation as they stare in awe at the vast arsenal of weapons left around the ring and even in the aisle. But more importantly is the briefcase that hangs above the ring and gently sways holding the two contracts that are sought after.


“Welcome back to From the Fire,” Cyclone Comet says. “We just witnessed Death on Ice II and saw Blank defeat Renegade to retain his SWF Ultraviolent title.”


“Anything that keeps away a Destruction reunion is fine with me,” King says.


“That match was a lot more than a title defense for Blank, he just beat the man Insane Luchador had confidence in to topple Bruce Blank. He just witnessed his best friend being slaughtered by the very man that has caused him to return from the SWF,” Comet begins to recap.


“Hey, who does Insane Luchador think he is, Israel? He gets kicked out of the scene a while ago, right? So he watches Bruce Blank redefine the division he lives for, and then returns in expectations to own a chunk of the division?” King rants.


“King,” Comet says, “surely you aren’t implying that Rickmen isn’t worthy of an Ultraviolent title shot?”


“Bruce Blank didn’t deserve to get bothered by the gnat, Luchador.”


“There’s no way that Blank views IL as a gnat. First, he avoids Insane Luchador’s challenges, he feeds IL a man renamed Bruce Blank like a bucket of chum to the sharks, he jumps him backstage, and finally he sets his younger brother up as a sacrificial lamb?” Comet quickly summarizes the conflict between the two.


“Sacrificial lamb? No, he’s just letting his younger brother sink his teeth into Insane Luchador and get an SWF contract!”


“The stakes are high, that’s for sure,” Comet says. “Hanging above that ring is the briefcase that contains two key documents. A contract for Wayne Blank and a contract for an Ultraviolent Title shot! There are no rules and the match ends when the wrestler rips up his opponent’s document.”


Alice Cooper’s “School’s Out Forever” begins to blare as the Smarktron begins to show wrestling highlights. The wiry, short Wayne Blank slowly walks out of the arena to the fans immense hatred as he slowly stares at the audience from left to right. He clutches the red and black dragon mask harder in his hand as he sighs then paints on a smug smile. He looks down at his own attire of red and black boots, black pants with red dragons winding down the sides, and the tight fitting black shirt. He nods his head and walks down towards the ring with unconvincing enthusiasm.


“Introducing, from Mobile, Alabama… weighing in at 175 pounds… WWWAAAYYYNNNNEEEEEEE BBBBBBLLLLAAAANNNNKKK!” Funyon’s introduction fuels the booing crowd.


He pauses in middle of the aisle to glance down at the weapons lying against the guardrails but he recollects his thoughts. He throws his mask on and charges down to ringside to slide right into the ring. He rolls up to his feet and nervously rolls back his shoulders with his head cranked up towards the briefcase taunting him from above.


“Blank looks pretty nervous in there,” Cyclone Comet says.


“Nervous? How can he possibly be nervous?” King asks.


“He idolizes his older brother and I think he realized that he’s going up against the man that his hero has been avoiding. That is definitely enough to unnerve a man,” Comet says.


“Wayne is speedy enough to have a distinct advantage over Insane Luchador and if he is relentless with weapon shots then eventually the pseudo psycho will crumble.”


“Man in the Box” by Alice in Chains kicks up and the fans instantly respond with resounding cheers. Black and red pyrotechnics burst from the entrance ramp and the hanging smoke begins to lower as the song echoes. Insane Luchador walks out from backstage and has his eyes set on Wayne Blank. A psychotic grin slowly spreads across his face as he heads down the aisle. He decides Wayne Blank beats no Blank at all and he breaks into a sprint.


“Next, from Easton, Pennsylvania… weighing in at 221 pounds…. IIIINNNNSSSSAAANNNEEEEEE LLLLLUUUCCCCHHHAAADOOOORR!”


Insane Luchador slows down as he reaches ringside and stops to glare at Wayne with his wild green eyes. He just slowly nods his head as Blank verbally assaults him in the fine art of “talking shit” but doesn’t get him upset. Instead Insane Luchador calmly rolls into the ring and takes his time getting to his feet. His body seems relaxed as he walks towards the center of the ring up to Wayne. They bump chests and exchange a nasty glare as Matthew Kivell explains the rules, or lack there of, of the match. Finally he points to the briefcase suspended above the ring and steps away as Wayne inches away from Insane Luchador just to slap the taste out of Luchador’s mouth. The jeers pour in as Wayne Blank begins to drunkenly run off his mouth to the Ill One and slaps the psychotic grin right off his face. His head snaps to the side as he just turns it back slowly with his fingers massaging his red cheek. He grins at the Drunken Dragon who cockily continues to run his mouth as this time he actually twists his hips and sends a slap so hard it sends Luchador off balance and leaves a resounding echo. IL grunts from the blow but quickly responds with a hard forearm that rocks Wayne Blank and he locks in a front facelock. He wrenches at his neck and keeps his hold tight as he brings up a knee into Blank’s body. He then throws up his other knee and begins his favored sequence of alternating knee strikes while Wayne struggles to break the hold. He can feel Blank’s body go limp in his arms as he feels ready to fall but he tortures him with another vicious knee strike. He lets go and simply smiles as he watches Wayne helplessly drop to the mat with a low groan of pain.


“You just know that IL is picturing Bruce Blank’s face on Wayne right now,” Comet says.


Wayne Blank rolls to his feet and breaks into a charge but IL is able to throw him over with an armdrag. He holds onto the arm as they hit the canvas and Wayne tries to worm his way out as he gets onto his hand and knees. But instead Insane Luchador painfully cranks the arm into the air, complete with a vicious diagonal karate chop, the kesagiri, to his opponent’s neck. He uses his free hand to throw rapid kesagiri chops onto Wayne’s neck before letting go of the armbar and standing up. Again Wayne finds himself back on his feet and he rolls his shoulder as if the submission was a stretch. They slowly approach each other in a circle until Wayne lunges out and takes IL off guard with a gorgeous spinning back kick. He stumbles backwards but barely ducks underneath a roundhouse kick attempt by Wayne and he retaliates with a palm strike straight into his jaw that floors him. Blank hits the canvas and rolls away to the outside of the ring in retreat from Insane Luchador. He leans his hands onto the ring apron as he takes a short breather with his head hung low in thought. But IL is relentless as he charges towards the ropes and drops to the canvas to hit a baseball slide right into Blank’s face. He is sent reeling back into the guardrail as Insane Luchador rolls to the outside and grins as he approaches Wayne Blank, who lunges down to grab a bundle of light tubes on the ground. He grabs a hold of the bundle and comes out swinging in desperation. His swing connects and the light tubes shatter against Insane Luchador’s chest with enough impact to stagger backwards. Wayne charges at Insane Luchador but he lunges out to knock Blank down with a clothesline. This time he reaches over and grabs a bundle of light tubes that lies on top of Blank’s chest. He leaps into the air and comes down with a double stomp onto the light tubes and Wayne’s chest. He grabs a handful of Wayne’s mask and tugs his reluctant body up to roll him into the ring. With the few seconds to spare he turns his attention back towards the weapons strewn all over ringside. His eyes wander over the selection and he reaches down to grab a trashcan that he carelessly throws backwards into the ring. He pauses and curiously stares at a small burlap sack until he picks it up and jingles it to his satisfaction. He grins deviously as he clutches the neck of the bag shut then heaves it towards the rain as it opens up and rains down thumbtacks onto Wayne and into the ring. He doesn’t seem content as he walks a few steps and glances down at a barbed wire table with a sadistic grin. He picks it up and slides it into the ring as Wayne Blank brushes away the thumbtacks while getting to his feet. Insane Luchador glances past various weapons and sets his sights onto a huge light tube bundle. He begins to walk over to it until he nearly trips over something and he foolishly looks down to see the barbed wire ladder. The fans pop in approval as he picks it up over his head and tosses it towards Blank without thinking.


“IL is certainly stocking up on instruments of justice,” Comet says.


Wayne Blank takes full advantage of Rickmen’s wandering mind as he snatches the ladder and rushes to the center of the ring. He shakily sets it up and begins to quickly scale up the ladder towards the briefcase as the fans erupt into jeers. IL glances behind him into the ring and sees Blank’s desperate scramble to gain a cheap win. He swears loudly as he slides into the ring and rolls to his feet, charging into the ladder with a shoulder block. It sways uncontrollably and Wayne Blank tries to get stable by grabbing at one of the legs but instead quickly withdraws his hands because of the barbed wire. His balance is thrown off as he falls off the ladder and plummets down onto the canvas. Insane Luchador swats the ladder down to the canvas to avoid another premature climb as he throws insults at Wayne as he approaches him. He grabs a handful of the mask and brings him up to his feet only to stun him with a backhand to the face. Wayne throws a wild right in response and Luchador fends him off with a quick jab. He then quickly spins around with his arm extended and smacks Blank in the face with a spinning backfist. Wayne groans loudly as he stumbles back and falls onto one knee as IL viciously sends out a kick right into his opponent’s temple. Insane Luchador looks down and grabs the barbed wire table and glances at the turnbuckle then back to Wayne Blank. He slowly nods his head in approval of his own scheme as he walks over to the turnbuckle and unfolds one leg, wedging it in between the middle turnbuckle’s ropes. He turns around in hopes to see Wayne still crumbled on the canvas but instead sees the Drunken Dragon taking flight. He eats a hard spinning wheel kick that sends him stumbling back and landing right onto the barbed wire table. Blank couldn’t have planned it better himself as he rolls to his feet and begins to charge at the Luchador but he slips off the table to save himself. He tries to put on the brakes but Rickmen takes advantage of it and drop toeholds Wayne right onto the barbed wire table. He reaches down and scoops Blank up in a waistlock as he hoists him onto the top turnbuckle in a very, very bad situation. Luchador hops onto the middle ropes, split legged, as he hovers above the table himself. He applies another waistlock but Wayne Blank sends an elbow that has Luchador loose balance and plop onto the table himself. But he rolls backwards and off the table and as Wayne stands onto the top turnbuckle he grabs a rope to rack him on the turnbuckle. He vaults over the ropes and onto the ring apron as he approaches Blank. He sends a forearm to keep his opponent dazed as he awkwardly hops onto the top turnbuckle himself. Blank tries to shove Luchador off to the outside but is unsuccessful. Insane Luchador wrestles with Wayne’s resistance but locks on a front facelock as he stands on the very edge of the top turnbuckle with little room for error.


“Fall, fall, fall,” King chants.


He grabs a handful of Blank’s tights and easily hoists him vertically into the air as he inches over on the top turnbuckle with more room. The fans all stare in anticipation as even IL seems confused as to what to do next but finally he leaps off and takes Wayne through the table with a top rope Brainbuster! The table crunches as wood ricochets from the impact and a massive roar sweeps across the arena. Both men squirm in the aftermath of the barbed wire table as Insane Luchador rolls away and onto his feet. Blank pushes himself as he shakily gets to both knees and unleashes a low blow to ensure that the Rickmen family tree ends at Andrew.


“What a despicable move of cowardice,” Comet says.


“What a move of courageous hope, the man just took a brainbuster through a table,” King corrects. “Hell, Renegade was just knocked out cold. Pardon the pun.”


“He was knocked out by a running tombstone piledriver on ice,” Comet says.


Insane Luchador instinctively stops at the shooting pain from the cheap shot but tries to stumble forward to the ladder. Instead he gives a little groan and drops to the canvas as well, now both men just trying to recover. Blank, mustering up whatever will is left over to become an SWF superstar, grabs the top rope and begins to tug himself to his feet. Meanwhile Insane Luchador rolls onto all fours as he stands but takes a few limping steps from the blow. He turns around and sees Wayne pathetically try to drag himself to his feet, so IL walks over to offer assistance. He stomps him in the ribs and grabs him by the mask, tossing him towards center of the ring near the ladder.


“He wants Blank to be right there when IL shreds his dream,” Comet says. “Devious yet delicious.”


He screams at the younger Blank in an incoherent ramble as he grabs the ladder and, without even flinching from the barbed wire, unfolds the ladder underneath the briefcase’s shadow. He walks over and grabs Blank again, tugging him up to his feet. He tosses him against one side of the ladder and barks at him to begin climbing. Wayne, slouched against the ladder, begins his climb as IL gives a psychotic laugh. He walks over to the trash can and kicks the thumbtacks towards Wayne then throws the trash can at him.


“Total lack of respect,” King says.


“I can’t deny that but in IL’s defense, he’s probably experiencing some extreme anger,” Comet says.


“Well I’m going to laugh when Wayne wins and Bruce dismantles Luchador,” King concludes.


He finally walks over to the ladder as he quickly matches Wayne half way up the ladder as he just gives him that psychotic grin through the ladder’s rungs. He shakes his head to the side and laughs as he quickly scales towards the top. Blank begins to pick up his pace in an attempt to somehow beat Luchador who stands onto the second to last rung. He stares down at Wayne Blank who scrambles as he reaches one rung underneath. He stares up in agony as he watches IL open the briefcase. His body language slouches and his adrenaline turns to empty as he scales the last rung before leaning against the ladder in disappointment. Insane Luchador glances down at the briefcase with a psychotic grin as he pulls out Blank’s contract, dropping the briefcase to the canvas, and happily rips it in half.




There’s a weak wave of cheers for Luchador’s win but mostly silence due to his bizarre behavior. The corners of IL’s mouth twist into a sadistic smirk as he suddenly reaches down and grabs Wayne’s mask. He rips it off without resistance and tosses it off to the side, letting it float down towards the ring in defeat. Kivell calls up at the two to get down but Insane Luchador takes it a step further as he grabs a handful of Wayne’s hair with a laugh. He yanks and causes Blank to come up one last rung as he reaches over, locking in a front facelock. Insane Luchador laughs and grabs handful of Wayne’s tights and stands on top of the ladder, bent over. He lifts Blank into the air as the ladder wobbles and the fans all stare in disbelief.


“What the hell?” King asks.


“There’s no reason for this!” Comet admits in a plea.


Insane Luchador, without any hesitation, leaps off the ladder as he lets Wayne slide down and into a sit out powerbomb position. Polaroid’s flash and mouths go agape as Insane Luchador and Wayne Blank plummet to the canvas, onto the thumbtacks and absolutely flattening the trashcan with the Blank Bomb!


“Jesus Christ!” King exclaims. “He just used a Blank Bomb off that ladder!”


“Well, IL has definitely sent a message… but I feel like there’s something else.”


“What is that, Comet?”


“I don’t know... I feel like we ran out of time… like it was all so rushed.”


“Yeah, well,” King begins…



Edited by chirs3

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"Welcome back to SWF FROM THE FIRE!" screams Cyclone Comet, as the feed fades back in. "We've had such an exciting night thus far, with the Blank Brothers taking on Insane Luchador and Renegade in singles matches, and the return of the SWF's most coherent match stipulation, Calvinball! Later tonight, we'll see Jay Hawke defending against Wildchild in a steel cage and everyone's favorite actor, Wes Davenport, attempting to dethrone the unbelievably dominant El Luchador Magnifico! I am, as always, Cyclone Comet!"


"And I'm the Suicide King, which you rubes would understand if you had more than a three-second memory," says King jovially. "This has got to be one of the best shows I've seen all year, but it's about to get even better with this contendership match for the World Cruiserweight Championship! Akira Kaibatsu, the reigning champion, is busy later tonight in a TLC match for the Tag Team Championships, teaming with Michael Cross against Spike Jenkins and Zyon and Landon Maddix and Max King, but you can be sure he's watching this one to find out whether he's going to have his clock cleaned or his cock sucked."


"I'd suggest," says Comet, "that that's not necessarily a fair characterization, but that Amy Stephens is really quite a talented athlete. She's shown an exceptional amount of skill in her short tenure in the SWF, and if given the chance I'm sure she would put on a thrilling performance."


"Either way," says King, "I hope Ghost Machine got oiled up. Let's go to the ring."


Funyon stands in the ring, looking dapper as ever, and announces, "Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is scheduled for one fall, and the winner will be named NUMBER-ONE CONTENDER TO THE WORLD CRUISERWEIGHT CHAMPIONSHIP! As such, it will be conducted under CRUISERWEIGHT RULES – the count on the outside will be twenty, not ten, and throwing an opponent over the top rope is grounds for immediate disqualification!"


The Arizona crowd cheers, excited about the two young athletes about to put their bodies on the line, as the Ramones' "Blitzkrieg Bop" begins to blare over the speakers.


After a few seconds of teasing the crowd, Amy Stephens comes out onto the stage with a can of Stella Artois in her hand and charges down to the ring! The fans reach out, patting her as she sprints by, and she slides into the ring.


"The first competitor… from Nottingham, in the United Kingdom, and weighing in at 171 pounds… she is DRUNK! She is DISORDERLY! She is AMY STEPHENS!"


Amy climbs to the second buckle, raises her lager and leads the crowd in a chorus:







As Joey launches into the first verse proper Amy drops down to the ring again, takes a few pulls from her can and then puts it down on the apron before getting ready for the match.


Her music fades out as the lights dim and a series of colored lasers begin shooting throughout the arena. A weird robot song starts playing, and the velvet curtain parts to reveal Chris Belcourt pushing Ghost Machine 2.0 on his standard hand truck! The crowd cheers, inexplicably, for the athlete who may be a robot or may merely be a guy with too much time on his hands. Even so, when he gets to the ring, Belcourt unstraps Ghost Machine, who walks up the steps and enters the ring. He reaches out, shaking hands with referee Ced Ordonez, and then steps toward Funyon. He produces the usual index card, sending it out through his output port, and Funyon takes it.


"Her opponent," reads the announcer, "is still failing from the lack of proper debugging surrounding the Lethal Lottery tag-team contest. Though we at BennerCorp are now confident that his infinite-loop sequence is in fact a feature, rather than a bug, we wish to apologize to his opponent, one Amy Stephens, for possible failures that may occur during this match with regard to the improperly coded Tag Team Protocol. Further, we wish to issue a warning about his standard protocol – that is, Crush, Kill, Destroy – and its interaction with another recently-loaded subroutine, Title Recovery. Should Miss Stephens have any issues, she should feel free to reboot Ghost Machine 2.0 at any time. Thank you."


The crowd cheers wildly as Ghost Machine steps toward the center of the ring. Amy Stephens joins him, and Ced Ordonez calls for the bell!






"And this one is underway!" shouts Cyclone Comet, as Ghost Machine and Amy circle around each other. Amy Stephens stands almost as tall as the masked marvel but, aside from her ample chest, looks fairly wispy next to the stoutly-built contender. He reaches forward, his thick arms clubbing down onto the back of her head as he pulls her into a collar-and-elbow tieup.


"It looks like Ghost Machine 2.0 is doing his best to make this his kind of match," Suicide King says. "He's following his standard algorithm, which is to assert his physical strength over a weaker opponent."


"I don't know that Miss Stephens is that much weaker than the robot," says Comet. "She is, after all, fairly beefy, like the Bovril with which she shares a country of origin."


King glances at Comet. "Bovril?"


"It's like bullion."


"I… see."


Even as Comet is busy enlightening his broadcast partner as to popular British foodstuffs, Ghost Machine continues asserting his dominance by once again clubbing his adversary across the back of the head. When she ducks down from the force of the blow, he pulls her into a front headlock, much to the disappointment of the crowd.


"Here we go," says King approvingly. "Version Two's looking for one of the maneuvers he's picked up over the past few weeks, a front headlock in the style of several of our past top-of-the-card workers. He's so much stronger than Amy Stephens that it's going to be difficult for her to break out of it, and at the same time, he's that much heavier than she is, so just being in the hold is going to fatigue her."


"Even so, Amy fights bravely on!" Comet declares.


And she does. She struggles, trying to imitate the pass-by that she's seen other wrestlers use to escape this sort of hold. She reaches across to Ghost Machine's elbow and posts a hand on it, then tries to jerk her arm across to twist her head out from the vise-like grip. Amy, though, isn't exactly a student of the technical side of the sport, and so she can't quite get the technique right. Instead, she ends up setting herself off balance, and Ghost Machine merely steps back, tightening the hold up even further.


Although Amy is caught in the front headlock, she continues to try to struggle out of the maneuver. At first, she tries to pull back, but with a man as strong as Ghost Machine – or, rather, a possible robot with as strong a chassis – it proves difficult to push him enough to effect his balance, and pulling back serves only to tighten the headlock. She keeps fighting, this time having to work even to get back to a neutral headlock. As she does, though, she drives into Ghost Machine and pushes him back a few steps.


"The android didn't expect that one," says Cyclone Comet. "It seems that BennerCorp has failed to program him adequately for wrestlers who don't follow orthodox styles."


"Interesting," King replies. "Which would also explain his loss to Bruce Blank."


"Who certainly does bring the funk," says Comet, deadly serious.


Ghost Machine quickly regains his balance, only to have Amy drive into him once again. She finally forces him to take a few steps back, sending him into the ropes! Cruiserweight official Cedric Ordonez sees that Amy has the ropes and quickly steps in, breaking up the hold. Ghost Machine obliges, moving back toward the center of the ring. Amy, still a little tired, follows him back in, only to eat a quick kick to the stomach! That bends her over once again, and as Ghost Machine goes for a second front headlock, the camera zooms in on her pendulous cleavage.


"Ghost Machine is once again attempting to use that vile front headlock, so often an illegal choke merely disguised as a wrestling technique!" shouts Comet. "Such tactics are not only wrong, they are unethical and immoral!"


"… I'm sorry," King says. "I was… distracted, for some reason."


Before Ghost Machine can lock up the headlock, though, Amy skitters past him and comes up behind him, then quickly pivots and plants a sickeningly sloppy spin-kick into the back of his neck! Ghost Machine staggers forward, and Stephens follows him to the ropes. She hammers him with a series of punches, each one stunning the android ever slightly more. As they hit the ropes, she pulls him out, using all her weight to whip him to the opposite side. He rebounds and sprints toward her, only to eat a huge Polish Hammer that takes him off his feet! Before she can drop onto him for the cover, though, he sits up, trying to get to his feet. She obliges, helping him up and then whipping him into the nearest available corner! Ced Ordonez narrowly avoids being hit with the sprinting man-or-machine, who collides with the corner and sends a sickening "THUD" echoing through the arena! Amy follows him in as he turns around. She runs up, bracing on the second rope, and immediately unleashes a stiff fist to his face!




She repeats, and the Arizona crowd counts along!




















The crowd bursts into cheers as Amy Stephens completes ten punches in the corner, then jumps off and raises her arms to soak in the adulation! Ghost Machine merely slumps down in the corner, stunned from the beating.


"That vile droid is taking quite a lashing from the sultry Miss Stephens," Comet says. "I don't know what the Little Cyclones are calling it now, but back when I was but a young hero, we had an expression for women like her: 'Va-va-VOOM!'"


"I don't know if that's high praise, coming from a man who once had a crush on Margaret Thatcher."


"I'm sorry," says Comet, "but it's not my fault I find power sexy."


As Ghost Machine regains his footing, Amy turns around and begins sprinting toward him, looking for an avalanche. His visual apparatus accepts the input of Amy's meaty body hurtling toward him, and he does the most sensible thing he can: he ducks.


"Oof," says Comet, wincing, as Amy Stephens hits the corner and collapses.


"Once again, Ghost Machine Version Two shows off its uncanny ability to react to unfamiliar situations," says Suicide King. "You really have to admire the programming on this one."


As Amy hits the mat, Ghost Machine pivots and hammers her in the jaw with a stiff boot strike. She rolls away, but finds herself caught in the corner without means of egress. Ghost Machine, sensing this, places a boot across her throat. Before she can move, he grabs the top rope and leans onto her, grinding his boot into her throat! Ced Ordonez busts in between the two athletes, trying to push Ghost Machine off of his opponent as he illegally chokes her out with his boot! Frustrated, he begins counting.




Ghost Machine looks at Ordonez, seemingly unsure what to make of him. He holds up a finger.




Ghost Machine holds up a second finger, apparently trying to figure out what Ordonez is counting.




A third finger goes into the air. By this time, Amy Stephens is beginning to turn blue, while Ghost Machine stands on her neck with an air of general confusion.




Ordonez is getting angrier by the second now, while Ghost Machine merely continues his illegal chokehold, oblivious to the fact that he's breaking any rules at all!




By this time, Ordonez starts trying to shove Ghost Machine off of Stephens' neck, glaring and shouting threats of disqualification! Ghost Machine looks at him for a few seconds, still standing on Amy's neck, before responding…




Ordonez shoves Ghost Machine off Stephens, his own face as red as hers is blue, and the crowd begins cheering for the droid's adorable lack of understanding!


"You know," King says idly, "you'd think that Ghost Machine's assimilation procedure would have picked up by now that the boot choke is illegal. What a world we live in, where we can put a man on the moon, but we can't teach illegal moves to a wrestling robot."


With Ordonez calming down and Amy Stephens almost back to her feet, Ghost Machine steps back toward the corner. Amy tries to avoid him, but Ordonez lets Ghost Machine at her, and immediately, the robot grabs her by her studded wrist and pulls her out of the corner. Before she can react, he whips her to the ropes before positioning himself in the center for a railgun suplex. Instinctively, Amy knows what's coming and leaps into the air, hitting her opponent with a Lou Thesz press that takes him to the mat! Before he even knows what hit him, Ghost Machine finds himself on his back, being pummeled with a series of hard fists! Amy hammers him over and over, finally finishing the ground and pound with a headbutt that catches Ghost right in his input port! He goes limp for a moment, just long enough for her to hook the leg. Ced Ordonez counts














"Amy Stephens draws first blood in this encounter," says Cyclone Comet, "as Ghost Machine finds himself exploited by a surprise Lou Thesz press!"


The droid sits up, trying to shake its circuits back into place. As he does, Amy gets to her feet and lies in wait, taking a moment to catch her breath as she still reels from the boot choke. Ghost Machine gets to his feet, and Amy throws a boot into its fuel refinement reservoir to bend it over before slamming it monitor-first into the mat!


"Double D T!" shouts Cyclone Comet. "After a brutal kick to the stomach!"


"Uh, Comet? I believe you mean fuel refinement reservoir."


Ghost Machine rolls over, and once again, Amy covers him! Ced counts












NO! Ghost Machine kicks out again, much to the frustration of Amy Stephens!


"Although Miss Stephens cannot seem to seal the envelope, as it were, she is making significant progress toward the finish! I must say, this is a very impressive showing!"


"Oh, bull," King says. "Or, as Amy might say, 'assa loada bollocks. She might be getting two-counts and near-falls here and there, but it's not like she's actually going to walk off with this one. Ghost Machine Version Two is just too well-programmed for that."


Sure enough, as soon as he's kicked out, Ghost Machine begins rolling to the outside. The crowd begins to cheer, since it knows that Amy Stephens' brawling style is going to make this less than the optimal choice for the Cruiserweight Automaton.


"Amy Stephens is following him to the outside," says King, "but you know that she's not going to be able to put him away."


Ced Ordonez watches the action go outside and begins counting.




Ghost Machine, its back to Amy, tries to shake its circuits back into place once more. Sensing an opening, the scrappy Stephens girl measures him up from the apron. Unbeknownst to the Automated Attacker, she leaps off the ring apron and dives at him with a double axehandle that catches Ghost Machine in the back of the skull-like appendage with her studded bracelet! He staggers forward, dropping to one knee.




Ghost Machine convulses on the floor, its body clearly short-circuiting as Amy Stephens begins to lift it back onto its support beams. Ghost Machine staggers slightly, not quite able to stay up, but Amy grabs it by a wrist and begins an Irish whip.




Ghost Machine senses this and shifts its weight, reversing the whip and sending Amy straight into the cornerpost! He follows immediately after and throws a foot into the air, sandwiching Amy's head between the sole of his boot and the steel ringpost with a sickening Yakuza kick! The crowd cheers the gratuitous violence as Ghost Machine jerkily walks away.




Ghost Machine examines his stunned, motionless adversary for a few moments, reaching down and looking at the odd lumps that robots don't have.




"What's he doing, King?" asks Comet, as Ghost Machine pokes at Amy's ill-supported pendula.


"He's just curious," King says dismissively. "Robots don't have those. Not even girl robots."




Once again, he pokes at Amy's breasts, leading the entire audience to feel just a little bit dirty watching.




Ghost Machine shrugs, rolling back into the ring, still staring.




Amy begins to stir, with Ghost Machine jerkily stepping over to Ced Ordonez, examining his striped shirt.


"Uh, King?"


"Just checking, Comet. Just checking."




Somehow, Ordonez is able to ignore the robot and continue counting.




As Ordonez holds his hand up, Ghost Machine reaches up and high-fives him, nodding at him blankly. Ordonez pauses in his count, looking, confused, at Ghost Machine. The Machine points outside, as if commanding Ordonez to attack his opponent. Confused, Ordonez counts again.




Ghost Machine buzzes, and then announces, "DOES NOT COMPUTE." He walks over to Ordonez and attempts to slap his hand again. Ordonez looks at him as if he must be crazy, to which Ghost Machine responds…




Ordonez sighs, then counts once more…




Before turning to Ghost Machine. He grabs Ghost by the mask and shouts, "PROTOCOL NOT FOUND. ABORT, RETRY, FAIL?" Ghost Machine replies, "ABORT." before turning back to Amy, now on her feet and rolling back into the ring.


"Well, unfortunately, Ghost Machine hasn't quite gotten the tag team protocol worked through its system yet," chuckles King. "Near as I can tell, upon noticing that Ordonez lacked breasts, he decided that he must be his tag team partner. Fascinating the way the occasional bugs work."


"BennerCorp must be a truly misogynistic company to program a subroutine declaring breasts to be enemies," laments Comet. "That poor robot will never know the joys of reproducing itself."


As Amy rolls back into the ring, she gets to her feet using the ropes. Ghost Machine sneaks up behind her and locks his hands around her waist, then arches back, throwing her overhead with a picture-perfect German suplex! The crowd shows its approval with a cheer as Amy hits the mat and rolls through. Ghost Machine follows her through, crouching down to increase his power as he lifts her off the mat with a Greco-Roman style deadlifting technique and throws her into the air once more with a second German! The crowd applauds again as the shaken Amy still instinctively bellies down, trying to keep from being held on her back for a pin. Even as she does, Ghost Machine is able to execute another textbook deadlift. This time, he hoists her into the air, and at the apex of the lift, he unlocks his hands, throwing Amy roughly six miles toward the crowd! She crash-lands on her neck and shoulders as Ghost Machine remains standing, watching the horrific slam! He then walks over and jerkily drops onto her for the cover.


"That's got to be it," says King, as Ordonez counts













THREE- NO! Amy gets a shoulder up and avoids being put away for the night! The crowd cheers her resilience as she tries to roll to her stomach. Ghost Machine allows her to do so before grabbing her by the ankle, lifting it into the air and going for a half Boston crab. Amy kicks her leg maniacally, knowing that being caught in a pretzel-like maneuver by something as strong as a robot is never a good idea.


"Ghost Machine has certainly shown an affinity for submission holds," Cyclone Comet notes. "That seems quite unusual for his ilk."


"Well," King replies, "although he's currently running a Crush, Kill, Destroy protocol, Ghost Machine is actually a souped-up version of BennerCorp's famed Bender robot."


Amy kicks her leg free and begins scooting toward the ropes. Ghost Machine, however, stays in the same position, trying vainly to execute a half-crab on a non-existent opponent.




King nods smugly as Comet pats him on the back.


Amy gets to her feet, wiping her brow as she realizes she narrowly avoided being forced into a submission hold that may well have ended the match. Ghost Machine turns around, finally realizing that he lacks an appropriately sized girder to bend. As soon as he does, Amy spins around, hammering him with another sloppy but effective spin kick! He staggers backwards, and she quickly grabs his wrist and whips him to the ropes. He rebounds, immediately going for his standard attack of a Yakuza kick! Amy sees it coming a mile away and ducks, avoiding the strike and spinning around. Ghost Machine, meanwhile, hits the ropes and once again charges toward Amy. This time, Amy is lying in wait, and throws a stiff uppercut with her bracelet-bearing arm toward Ghost Machine's lower appendages. She hits her target, driving the bracelet right into his exceptionally poorly-placed battery pack!


"And Amy Stephens gives Ghost Machine pause!" shouts Cyclone Comet. "She drives her forearm directly into his testicles!"


"That's a battery pack, Comet. Get it right!"


Ghost Machine's OS, simply overwhelmed, tries to react.


"DOES… NOT…. Oh, god fucking dammit, does that hurt," he says, giving an error message that had not previously appeared. Amy smiles innocently as she gets back up to his feet, and Ghost Machine makes another operational error message. "Jesus Christ, is that painful."


"Uh," King sputters, "that's a product of the newer, more user-friendly OS."


Ghost Machine appears to be suffering a strong short-circuit, and Ced Ordonez looks him over before glaring at Amy. She bats her eyelashes, holding her braceleted wrist behind her back. He shouts at her, but she merely shakes her head as Ghost Machine stays on one knee.


"Holy fucking shit," he can be heard to groan.


"Well, uh," says King, "Ghost Machine may be in a bit of trouble. After all, he's not well-versed in the usage of weapons, and he may be suffering a bad interaction with that bracelet. He might need to reboot."


Amy looks over at Ghost Machine, then throws a stiff right hand at him as he starts to get to his feet. He turns his head slightly, and she just barely clips the slight protrusion in the middle of his monitor.


"… and there we have it," beams King. "She just hit his reset button!"


Ghost Machine looks at Amy, who throws another right hand, catching him in the chest. He merely stares at her, and the crowd immediately begins cheering. She throws a left, once again clipping his chest, but he doesn't react any more than the initial blow! He stands still for a moment, a look of confusion in Amy's eyes, and then he extends an upper appendage and points at Amy! The crowd goes wild, shouting,




Ghost Machine imitates them, shouting,




The crowd begins cheering uncontrollably as Ghost Machine throws a mechanically perfect palm strike, slamming into her jaw and sending her reeling backwards! She staggers, and he hits her with yet another palm strike, this one taking her off her feet! She bounces back up, only to be clipped in the temple with a quick boot that stuns her and sends her stumbling into the ropes! Ghost Machine clinches her around the waist, lifting her off the mat.


Even as she struggles, he pauses to bury his visual apparatus in her ample cleavage for a few moments.


"Uh, King?"


"Just exploring," snaps the former SWF World Champion.


After a moment, Ghost Machine arches back, throwing Amy to the mat like a rag doll with a powerful railgun suplex! She hits hard, rolling through to her stomach but holding her back in obvious pain. Sensing an opening, Ghost Machine reaches down and grabs her in position for a gutwrench suplex, prompting a huge cheer from the crowd.


"He's looking for the Interface Bug," says King approvingly. "I'll tell you, I never would have guessed that this crowd would be supporting both of these athletes so strongly, particularly since they're both so new to the federation."


"Well," says Comet, "I wouldn't say…"


"I mean," King says as he cuts Comet off, "it's almost like there's … history. I don't know how else to explain it."


Ghost Machine tries to lift Amy up for the Interface Bug, his sheer-drop gutwrench suplex, but Amy seems to have known exactly what was coming. She splays out, hugging the mat, and waits for Ghost Machine to try to lift her up. True to his one-track programming, he does so, and Amy squirts out of his arms and through his spread legs! She ends up behind him, prompting a cheer from the crowd, and rolls him up with a schoolboy pin! "Counter by Amy!" shouts Comet, as Ordonez dives down and counts












NO! Ghost Machine kicks out! He gets back to his feet, and Amy Stephens follows, slightly disoriented from her quick rollup! Ghost Machine takes advantage of that by running up behind her and locking his arms around her waist, then pushing her toward the ropes. She tries to hold on to the top strand, but the robot rolls backwards and pulls her into a rolling prawn pin! He sits on her legs as King screams, "THIS COULD BE IT!" Ordonez, still conveniently on the mat, counts














NO!!!!! Amy Stephens rolls through, grabbing Ghost Machine's bodysuit and pulling his tights to leverage him over onto his shoulders. She follows the roll through, holding him down in another rollup pin! Ordonez stays on the mat, watching Ghost Machine kick to try to free himself, and counts
















"INCREDIBLE!" marvels Cyclone Comet, as Ghost Machine rolls through. "This series of near-falls has the crowd on its feet!"


As the robot gets out of the rolling prawn hold, though, Amy Stephens keeps her balance. He gets his shoulders free and rolls onto his stomach, only to have Amy lock her legs around his chest.


("I know many men who would KILL to be in Ghost Machine's position right now," says Comet in an aside.)


As Ghost Machine struggles to peel her scissors grip off, though, Amy lunges forward and wraps her arms around his enormous neck! She locks on a rear naked choke, and the crowd explodes! They cheer even louder than they did during the near-fall sequence, seeing Amy Stephens collect herself and apply her deadly finishing hold!


"LAST ORDERS!" shouts Comet. "She may be green, but Amy Stephens has shown herself to be quite the competitor tonight, locking the Last Orders onto Ghost Machine Version Two! We've seen this from her, and I sincerely doubt that Ghost Machine's protocol will allow him to attempt to ride this out!"


Amy tightens her body scissors, squeezing Ghost Machine's neck even tighter as she tries to force him to tap out or pass out! The crowd, whipped into a frenzy by Stephens' astonishing reversal of fortune, begins clapping, stomping and chanting!




Ghost Machine, meanwhile, tries bridging up on his head. He posts his forehead on the mat, using it and his free hands as supports, and spreading his legs out. He draws them in closer, gradually raising his back panel and hinges into the air, forming a near-perfect tripod!


"He's getting ready to tap!" shouts Comet! "It's last call thanks to the Last Orders!"




Ghost Machine shakes his torso, trying in vain to loosen Amy's grip on his rib cage! He tries to fight even harder, but every second she spends squeezing his neck and his chest is another second closer to putting him to sleep! Finally, the robot raises an upper appendage!


"HE'S GOING TO TAP!" screeches the superhero!


Ghost Machine reaches up, grabbing Amy's head and raising his rear even higher into the air! He hooks her head and pulls it under his right shoulder, then shakes her down even further! She keeps her body scissors on, knowing he's only seconds from passing out, but he bridges forward and drives his shoulder into her chest, pinning her scapulae to the mat! Amy shakes, trying to break free and escape the predicament, but Ced Ordonez sees the defensive pin and counts
























Amy releases her body scissors a second too late, and Ghost Machine rolls over onto his back! Barely breathing, he stares up at the ceiling as Amy springs to her feet, screaming bloody murder at the official! Funyon sees the carnage in the ring, but Ordonez sits Ghost Machine up and raises a somewhat limp arm, indicating the victory of the resilient robot!


"Your winner," says Funyon, "and number-one contender for the Cruiserweight Championship of the World… GHOST MACHINE VERSION TWO! POINT! OH!!!!!!!"


The crowd cheers, screaming for the thrilling finish of the match! Red-faced and angry, Amy Stephens leaves the ring, leaving only a disoriented Ghost Machine to reach into one of Ced Ordonez's pockets. He pulls out, much to Cedric's chagrin, a pack of Camel Turkish Royals and a Zippo lighter.




Ordonez rolls his eyes as Ghost Machine lights up, taking a deep drag off the filter-cleaning apparatus, as the picture fades away.

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In the backstage of the American West Arena, the former SWF world champion, the Hell Machine, the current SWF Chief of Security, the behemoth Janus is seen once again, this time walking and talking with his short Asian friend and business partnr, Hiroshi Hojo. The expression of the Australian is, as always, impassive - but in a strange difference from the norm, Hiroshi Hojo lacks his trademark smile, instead with one gloved hand to his cheek, now somewhat reddened from his earlier... altercation with Landon Maddix.


"...and the labourers seem rather amicable towards the whole idea. I suppose that with a sponsor behind them, they're perfectly willing to attempt another unionization," Janus rumbles, having been caught in mid-sentence. Hojo nods slightly as Janus finishes.


"Excellent," replies the Inquisitor. "They must think we're kotowing to them, the poor fools. I will speak to their representatives personally in the morning."


Hiroshi stops, also bringing Janus to a halt as he turns to face him. "I have a meeting coming up with Lord Izumi and the rest of the Council in a few days. They are very eager to hear my full report on this, especially since I requested an extra month to preform our legwork," Hojo says, gesturing around him with his free hand. "Up until now, we have proceeded quite leisurley... we have been fortunate in that Joseph Peters still assumes nothing. I believe it is time we turned off the 'slow burn,' as they call it in this business."


Janus chuckles mildly, but regards the Clansman with a serious expression. "Hiroshi... I thought we were holding off making any more moves until we had acquired more 'assets.' As things are, it is just the two of us right now."


"And look at what the two of us have done so far!" Hojo beams, returning to his usual more cheeful self. "It can't be helped, I'm afraid. The timetable remains our eternal fixture - even if I feel that such a thing is quite a bother. Besides," Hojo grins, "I think I may just have a plan for that."


"Oh really," Janus absently mutters, fully aware of what's supposed to come next. "And what might that be?"


"That... is a secret!"


Hojo pauses to lick his lips, tenderly pressing at the side of his face. "However, firstly and foremostly... my friends, this Landon Maddix character. I do believe that he is becoming something of a neiusance."


The Hell Machine can only grunt an affirmative. "His immense preoccupation with Toxxic is very irritating. He seems to think no length is too far if it will attract the attention of Toxxic. Even crossing me."


"Yes..." Hojo muses. "After the little altercation we had today, I think we are going to have to deal with him. This may play into our hands nicely. Peters' has done very well, but I fear we are outgrowing him, and that the commissioner may soon become a liability. What we require," the Inquisitor adds, his voice darkening, "is a 'big bang' to get things started."


Janus shifts slightly in place, and begins walking again as his Asian compatriot does. "You feel," he begins, "That Landon Maddix is a suitably incendiary target?"


"Well, there may be better targets," Hiroshi admits, "But Maddix would certainly be the most satisfying."


Both men reach the end of their hallway, with Hojo nodding to his compatriot. Janus heads down one way to attend to his security duties, as Hojo, that smile creeping across his face, turns and steps down the other, his cane idly tapping the floor beside him...

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“King, Wildchild and Jay Hawke have been at each other’s throats for months now,” says Cyclone Comet, “and now the tension between them is about to reach its violent climax, as the International Title is put up for grabs… in one of the most brutal matches in all of professional wrestling, King: the steel cage!”


“Well, this is exactly what Wildchild said that he wanted,” says the Suicide King. “A chance to face Jay Hawke for the International Title, where Jay can’t get himself disqualified… But, as we saw at the end of Lockdown, he may have spoken a little too soon!”


“What do you mean by that, King?”


“It’s simple, really,” explains King. “Over the past nine months, Jay Hawke has proven that he’ll do whatever it takes to keep that title… And, now that there’s no disqualification, there’s no limit to what he’ll be willing to do to remain the International Champion!”


“That may be true, King,” counters Comet, “but you have to admit that the cage isn’t exactly suited to Jay Hawke’s style.”


“Comet, there’s only one style when it comes to retaining a championship,” replies King. “That’s ‘win at all costs’ style, and I can assure you that nobody in the SWF today is more suited to winning at all costs than the Dean of Professional Wrestling himself!”


“Indeed,” amends Comet. “I stand corrected.”


“Now, having said that, I will agree that Jay Hawke has expressed his distaste to me at having to be in this match,” concedes King. “And, from his point of view, I can’t say that I blame him… It’s demeaning to him to have to defend his championship inside a cage; that’s not wrestling!”


“Well, King, the frustration of you and Jay Hawke notwithstanding, I want to personally commend Joseph Peters for ordering this match,” says Comet. “After everything that has transpired between these two young men, it will be refreshing to see a title match end conclusively!”


“Conclusively?” spits King in disgust. “It’s a setup, is what it is! It’s frustrating to me to see such a fine wrestler as Jay Hawke have to defend his title against somebody like Wildchild, in a match that clearly disadvantages the Champion!”


“You should have a little more faith in the Champion, King,” replies Comet. “I’m sure that, if Jay Hawke is meant to retain the title, he will have no difficulties overcoming the obstacles in his way!”


“But, damn it, Comet, that’s the whole point!” cries an exasperated King. “The Champion shouldn’t be the one who has to overcome obstacles; that’s the challenger’s role. The deck should not be stacked against the champion!”


“Well, I’m sure that we could continue to argue this issue for quite some time, King,” says Comet, “but our fans our waiting on the match to get underway… So, without further ado, let’s send it over to Funyon!”






The America West Arena grows silent at the toll of the timekeeper’s bell, as Funyon rises from his ringside seat and raises the microphone to his lips:



“Ladies and gentlemen,” he says, “the following contest is for the INTERNATIONAL CHAMPIONSHIP!”






The crowd cheers grow in intensity as Mystikal’s “Bouncin’ Back” begins to play:








“This contest is a steel cage match,” booms Funyon, “and can be won by pinfall, submission, or by escaping the cage! Introducing first, being accompanied to the ring by Melissa Fasaki, here is the challenger: from Morgan’s Bluff, Andros, in the Commonwealth of the Bahamas, and weighing in at two hundred fourteen pounds… the WIIIIILDCHIIIIILD!” With Melissa draped over his left arm, Wildchild raises his right arm to salute the crowd as the pair makes their way down the ramp:








“By Zeus, I don’t think I’ve ever seen such a look of determination in the eyes of the Wildchild, King!” Wildchild’s focus is momentarily diverted, however, by someone moving through the crowd on his left. WC cranes his neck to see if whether it was someone familiar to him, but the mystery person disappears back into the crowd before Wildchild can get a clear view. Nonplussed, the challenger continues on down to the ringside area, where he gives her a quick embrace and watches her head back up the ramp before stepping inside the cage.


“Well, we’ve got the challenger inside the ring,” notes Comet, “and, as you all saw, Melissa Fasaki has been asked to leave ringside. There’ll be no question as to whether or not victory by either man will be conclusive tonight! And, we’ve also got two referees assigned to this match: junior official Red Herrington will be inside the cage, in case either man attempts to win by pinfall or submission, and senior official Matthew Kivell will be on the outside, to determine whose feet touch the ground first in the event of an escape attempt!”


Wildchild shakes one of the walls of the cage and then begins walking in circles as his music fades out. After a split second of silence, the lights in the arena dim, and quiet is quickly disrupted by Pink Floyd’s “Learning to Fly.”






“And, his opponent,” continues Funyon, as Jay steps out onto the stage, “from the Hall-of-Fame city of Cleveland, Ohio, and weighing in tonight at two hundred fifteen pounds…Here is the International Champion… the Dean of Professional Wrestling: JAAAAAY HAAAAAWKE!” A spotlight shines on Jay Hawke as he stands at the foot of the stage. He glares at the cage in distaste before proceeding down the ramp.


“You can see the disgust on Jay Hawke’s face,” says King. “Like I told you, Comet, this style of match is beneath him; there’s something really wrong with this business when champions get penalized for being dominant, and challengers get rewarded for not being able to close the deal!” Wildchild leaps onto the top turnbuckle and begins to pull himself up to the top of the cage. He assumes a seated position on the lip of the cage and points down accusingly at Jay Hawke. The Champion catches his eye and holds his arms out defiantly, a grin spreading across his face as he points down to the International Title.


“It’s mine, you little punk!” he shouts up at his challenger. “This belt’s not going anywhere!”


“You can literally feel the tension, King!” says Comet. “This is going to be a tremendous match, I’m sure of it!” Jay begins to continue on towards the ring, but an unseen hand reaches out from the crowd and grabs at the back of his robe at the left shoulder, stopping him in his tracks! Hawke spins around furiously, but the mystery offender has already disappeared into the crowd, with several fans surrounding the ringside barricade pointing in the direction he took off in.


“This is ridiculous!” spits King, as Hawke chastises the security personnel standing around the barricade. “What is Peters paying these people for? What good is security that won’t keep the wrestlers secure?” Indignant over the lackadaisical job performance of the security personnel, Jay eventually turns his attention back towards the cage, but not before ripping the head of security a new one. And, while the International Champion is nimble man, and quick of reflex, as he turns back towards the cage, he is only able to react quickly enough to form a single thought:





“Oh shit.”















“By Zeus!” shrieks Comet. “Wildchild just dove from the top of the cage out to the arena floor, and turned Jay Hawke inside out with that hit!”









“What a despicable cheap shot by Wildchild!” roars King. “He couldn’t wait until Jay got into the ring… He couldn’t even wait until Jay was facing him… No, he had to wait until his back was turned, and then attack him from behind! How low can you get?” Wildchild crawls over to Hawke and begins hammering punches into the top of his head. He pulls the Champion up to his feet and leads him by the back of the head to the barricade, where he rams Hawke face-first! He then leads him down to the ringside and bashes Jay’s face into the wall of the cage!


“My word!” cries Comet. “Wildchild just sent Jay Hawke into the cage face-first!”


“And the cheap shots continue,” growls King. “This match hasn’t even officially started!”


“I do believe you’re right, King!” agrees Comet, as WC pulls Hawke away from the wall of the cage, only to knock him to the arena floor with a right cross. “We haven’t heard the bell; senior referee Matthew Kivell has not officially started this match… but we’ve got a bona fide donnybrook breaking out just outside the cage!” Wildchild pulls Jay back to his feet roughly and grabs him by the back of the head, leading him over towards the ring barricade, and then slamming him face-first into the hard rubber surface!


“This is sickening!” spits King, as Wildchild leans Hawke up against the corner where two sections of the barricade intersect. “Wildchild is too much of a coward to try and face Jay Hawke in the ring, so he has to sneak attack him out on the floor… Look, Jay hasn’t even had a chance to take off his robe yet!” WC grabs Jay roughly underneath the arm and drops him on his tailbone onto the arena floor with a hiptoss. The Dean scrambles desperately on his hands and knees to get away from WC, frantically discarding his robe as he does so. Wildchild chases after him and pulls him to his feet, but Hawke finally manages to stage a counter attack, stunning him with a rake of the eyes. As Wildchild rubs his eyes, Jay jams a knee into his midsection, and then grabs him by the tights and leads him back by the corner of the barricade, slamming him headfirst into it!


“There we go!” crows King. “Now let’s see what Wildchild can do, now that he’s not attacking the man from behind!” Jay pulls Wildchild to his feet and leads him over to the nearby corner of the cage attempting to bash WC’s head into the post… but the Bahama Bomber blocks with both hands! Wildchild thrusts an elbow into Jay’s midsection, knocking him a step backwards, and then leaps into the air, whipping his leg through the air and blasting Hawke in the face with a Gamengiri that sends him stumbling back into the corner of the barricade!


“Wildchild is on fire, King!” proclaims Comet. “He’s not going to let Jay Hawke find any purchase in this matchup!” WC turns back towards the ring and shinnies up the corner of the cage like he was climbing a palm tree back in Andros. Once he gets about halfway up, he springs backwards, flipping through the air and crashing into Jay with a moonsault press!









“Oh my goodness!” screams Comet, as WC pulls Hawke to his feet. “Wildchild just did a moonsault from the middle of the cage that sent him and Jay Hawke into the crowd! And now, Jay Hawke is in no-man’s land!”


“This is patently unfair!” protests King, as Wildchild knocks Jay further back into the crowd. “Any of those fans can get their hands on Jay Hawke right now; it’s about nineteen thousand to one! If security can’t keep these fans from putting their hands on Jay Hawke, they should all be fired on the spot! Kivell needs to get those two back to ringside, so that we can actually get this match started!”


“This is utter bedlam!” agrees Comet. “If Matthew cannot gain some sort of control soon, this match may not even happen!” Wildchild leads Hawke back over towards the barricade, and then rams him stomach-first into the hard rubber surface before dumping him back onto the ringside area. Jay scampers away from Wildchild once again as he climbs back over the barricade.


“Jay is going to have to do something to slow Wildchild down, and get this match back on track,” says King.


“Back on track?” asks Comet, as Hawke crawls over towards the announce table. “I’m not aware that this match ever got on track, King; it hasn’t even officially started yet, as we see the International Champion trying to pull himself back up in front of our announce table…” Kivell steps into Wildchild’s path to dissuade him from continuing to attack Jay outside the ring, but WC pushes him aside. He pulls Jay off the table, and the Dean catches him off-guard with a sucker punch to the temple! Hawke immediately follows up by delivering a stiff European uppercut, and then grabbing him by the back of the head…






… And slamming Wildchild face-first against the announce table! Jay stands over the dazed challenger and begins hammering him across the back of the neck with clubbing forearm blows.


“Look at Jay Hawke,” observes Comet. “The International Champion’s chest is covered in bruises from where Wildchild has repeatedly thrown his body at him! He’s got huge red welts on his back from where it impacted that barricade! He’s got a small trickle of blood running from his nose, from all the punishment that he’s taken! And yet, he’s finally starting to make his presence felt here in this match!”


“And Wildchild is going to regret pushing Jay Hawke past his limits!” cheers King, as Jay rolls Wildchild onto the top of the announce table. “He wanted to make this a fight, well now he’s about to come face-to-face with the consequences of that decision!” Jay climbs up onto the announce table and then pulls WC to his feet, trapping him in a standing headscissors.


“Uh-oh!” cries Comet, as Jay pumps his hands overhead. “Jay Hawke’s going for a piledriver… Clear out of here, King!” Hawke wraps both arms around Wildchild’s midsection and starts to lift him off the table as King and Comet move off to the side, but the Caribbean Cruiser kicks his legs frantically until Jay has to set him back down. Jay tries one more time without success to lift WC up for the piledriver, and then the Bahama Bomber straightens up his back, raising the International Champion up off the table, and dumping him onto the arena floor!


“Wildchild just saved himself from a possible broken neck with that counter!” shouts Comet, as Jay staggers across the floor to lean against the barricade. “And Jay Hawke just sustained another punishing blow to… LOOK OUT!”






Comet and King are just barely able to move out of the way as Wildchild runs across the announce table, leaping off as he approaches the edge and blasts Jay Hawke in the chest with a running dropkick that sends him back over the barricade and into the crowd! The Human Hurricane pulls himself to his feet and unleashes a feral how as the crowd cheers him on:









“What a dropkick!” exclaims Comet, as he and King settle tentatively back into their seats. “Wildchild just came off the announce table to hit Jay Hawke with a running missile dropkick! For the second time tonight, Jay Hawke has gone over the barricade… And for the THIRD time tonight, Wildchild appears to be climbing the wall of the cage! What’s he got in mind, King?”


“Nobody ever knows what Wildchild is thinking,” replies King, as Jay struggles to get back to his feet amidst the crowd, “but it can’t be good news for Jay Hawke!” WC races across the fairly wide rim of the cage, leaping off as he approaches the corner and somersaulting through the air as he sails gracefully over the arena floor, past the barricade…















“Holy shooting stars!” screams Comet. “Andros Dive from the top of the cage! He just crashed into Jay Hawke with a running somersault senton from twenty feet in the air!” Wildchild screams out, clutching his tailbone in pain as Hawke remains motionless a few feet away. Dozens of fans surrounding the crash site clamor to either give Wildchild a congratulatory pat on the arm, or to jeer Jay Hawke unmercifully, until security makes their way into the crowd to create some space between the wrestlers and fans.


“That was an utterly idiotic move!” roars King. “If he’d been even a half-second too early on that, he would have literally killed himself! I mean, look at him; even with Hawke taking the brunt of the impact, he still ended up landing on his tailbone… and the way he was bent over, he was a few inches away from bouncing off his head! How can anybody seriously consider a guy that reckless to be worthy of the International Title?”


Hawke and Wildchild continue to lie motionless on the concrete, as security fights desperately to keep fans from getting too close. “My concern, King, is whether or not we’ll ever get this match officially started?” ponders Comet. “And what kind of condition will these two men be in when the match finally DOES get going?”


Moments later, Wildchild finally rolls onto his knees and wearily pushes himself up to a standing position. He shuffles over to Jay and pulls him up to his feet, but the Dean rifles a clenched fist into this genitals! As WC doubles over in pain, Hawke springs into action, quickly trapping him in a standing headscissors and wrapping both arms around his waist, getting just enough lift to pull Wildchild off the ground before he can recover…






… And bounces the top of Wildchild’s head off of the concrete floor with a piledriver!



“He hit it!” praises King, as Jay lies back against the concrete, breathing raggedly. “He got that piledriver he was going for! He didn’t get it out here on the announce table, but he may have done one better by hitting it out there on the floor instead!”


“Indeed,” agrees Comet. “Jay Hawke has turned the tables on Wildchild, and now has a golden opportunity to take control of this match!” After several seconds, Jay gets back to his feet, walking over to a young fan and snatching the officially-licensed Wildchild beach towel that his father just bought for him on the concourse. He walks away from the bawling tyke and rolls the towel up like a kerchief. He then stands behind Wildchild and slips it around his neck, choking him out with it!


“Holy garrote, this is brutal!” cries Comet. “Jay Hawke just stole that towel from that poor young fan, and now he’s choking Wildchild out with it!”


“Well, this is what Wildchild said he wanted,” mocks King. “He wanted a match where Jay Hawke couldn’t get himself disqualified, and now he’s paying the price for it!” Out of desperation, Wildchild turns his body in towards Hawke, wraps his arms around the Champion’s waist, and pops his hips as he falls backwards…






… Driving the back of Jay’s head into the concrete with a backdrop suplex!”



“Tremendous maneuver by the Wildchild!” shrieks Comet. “A suplex to counter being choked out!” A nearby security person retrieves the blanket and returns it to the fan, as both challenger and Champion writhe on the floor in pain.








“This has gone on long enough!” complains King. “Kivell needs to exercise some authority and get these two back in the ring, before Hawke ends up being seriously hurt!” Hawke and Wildchild begin exchanging punches as the work their way back to their feet. Several of the “off-duty” referees enter the crowd and try to steer Wildchild and Jay back towards the cage, but to no avail, as they keep progressively moving further and further away from the ringside area as they fight through the crowd. Finally, they reach the edge of the arena floor, which separates the ground-level seats from those higher up. The referees steer Wildchild and Hawke over to the tunnel leading out to the concourse, and then try to get between them, but the Dean merely takes advantage of Wildchild’s preoccupation and leaps over the officials separating them to nail WC in the side of the head with a sucker punch!


“What a dastardly tactic by Jay Hawke!” cries Comet. “He waited until the referee’s had Wildchild’s attention diverted, and then nailed him with a cheap shot!”


“What’s the matter, Comet?” mocks King. “You don’t like it when the shoe’s on the other foot? I don’t remember hearing you say anything when Wildchild was diving off the cage behind Jay’s back! Turnabout is fair play!”


Jay walks over to a nearby cluster of fans and snatches his custom-made souvenir folding chair. He takes it back over to where Wildchild is getting back to his feet and raises it overhead to bash his skull in, but the Tropical Tumbler dives out of the way and springs to his feet as Hawke turns back around…






… Driving the chair into his nose with a shuffling sidekick! Blood sprays from Hawke’s face as he collapses to the ground, and Wildchild climbs up to the upper level.


“Big time sidekick makes Jay Hawke regret putting that chair into play,” remarks Comet. “And what is Wildchild climbing up there for?”


“I don’t know,” replies King, “but he’s done enough damage with his high flying for one day!” Wildchild steps out onto the platform above the tunnel leading outside, and then turns to look at the fans before leaping off the platform to crash down onto Jay Hawke with a moonsault press!






… But the wily International Champion has enough presence of mind to roll out of the way, causing Wildchild to crash into the concrete floor!



“Holy crash and burn!” shrieks Comet. “Wildchild tried to put Jay Hawke’s lights out for good, but he missed the mark, and fell ten feet to the concrete!”


“I love it!” exclaims King. “That’s what he gets for going to the well once too often. He couldn’t be happy with having the momentary advantage… NO! He had to go ahead and try to be fancy… and what did it get him? A Nestea Plunge onto a concrete floor, THAT’S what it got him!” Jay pulls Wildchild to his feet and hammers him in the back of the neck with clubbing forearms, but with security’s help, the “off-duty” referees manage to steer them over towards the entrance ramp.


“My word, King,” exclaims Comet, as Hawke tosses Wildchild back over the barricade, “these two have beaten each other half-way around the arena!”


“Yeah, but at least it’s finally starting to look like they might take it inside the cage, so that we can get this match underway, says King. Jay climbs onto the barricade and then leaps onto the ramp to crush Wildchild with a flying attack, but the Bahama Bomber lunges upwards desperately and jams a rising uppercut into the midsection of the descending Champion!






“Punch to the midsection!” screams Comet, as WC collapses back to the floor, spent. “This match has been going back and forth for several minutes, King!” Both men slowly get back to their feet, and Jay tries to reassert himself with a right cross, but WC blocks with his left forearm, and then counters with a right elbow to the face! As Hawke staggers back, the challenger presses the attack, knocking him down with a headbutt! Wildchild pulls Jay back to his feet, only to hook his arm underneath the Champion’s and executes a hiptoss that sends Hawke tumbling down the ramp towards the ring.


“Wildchild and Jay Hawke are slowly but surely making their way back towards the ring,” notes Comet. “We may get an actual match yet!” WC grabs Jay’s head and tries to bash it into the ring barricade, but the Dean blocks his attempt, and drives the challenger’s face into the barricade instead! As Wildchild staggers away, Jay lifts him up into a bearhug and races towards the ring, slamming his back against the wall of the cage!


“Looks like Hawke’s trying to get a little payback!” crows King. “Wildchild was using the cage as a weapon earlier, and now Jay Hawke’s returning the favor!” Jay reasserts his grip and rushes back towards the ring, but the Caribbean Cruiser gets his feet up, bracing them against the wall of the cage and pushing off, rolling over Hawke’s shoulders and down his back. WC wraps both hands around Jay’s waist as he falls, pulling the Dean into a Sunset Flip, but instead of making a worthless pin attempt, the Human Hurricane immediately rolls back to his feet while maintaining control of Jay’s legs. The fans begin cheering immediately as they realize what he’s about to do:





“Oh my!” squeals Comet. “A possible slingshot coming up!” Sure enough, Wildchild locks his arms underneath Jay’s legs and falls backwards, launching Hawke through the air and sending him face-first into the wall of the cage!


“More cheap tactics by the Caribbean Coward!” spits King, as Wildchild pulls Hawke to his feet and leads him over to the cage door. “But, at least we might be finally ready to officially start this match!” WC rolls Hawke into the ring, and the Champion scampers backwards across the ring, begging off the Bahama Bomber as he steps into the ring himself. Kivell closes the door to the cage whilst simultaneously signaling the timekeeper to ring the bell, signifying the official start of the match:





“Bell’s gone!” shouts Comet. “And this match is officially underway!”




Jay continues to stall for time as Wildchild crosses the ring, and then finally stuns him with a kick to the midsection! Hawke grabs Wildchild by the back of the head and rams it into the top turnbuckle. He then begins to skip across the ring, waving for Kivell to open the cage door as he tries to get out.


“He’s making a break for it!” shouts King. “Jay Hawke’s heading for the exit!” Before he can reach the edge of the ring, however, WC tackles him from behind and drags him away from the door. Wildchild takes half a step back and then leaps into the air, crashing down onto Jay’s back with a senton splash! Wildchild easily beats Jay back to his feet and runs to the ropes, springing forward as he rebounds and blasting Hawke in the face with a basement dropkick!


“He didn’t make it!” calls Comet. “Wildchild headed him off at the pass!” WC chews furiously at the gauze on his arm, until he gets an end loose. He then unravels a length of the gauze from around his arm and grasps it in both hands as he sneaks up behind Jay… and chokes him out with the gauze!





“He’s choking him!” roars King. “What a cowardly thing for Wildchild to do!”


“Now wait just a minute, King,” counters Comet. “Didn’t you just tell me a few minutes ago that turnabout was fair play? Who choked whom first?”


“Wildchild had that coming for all the cheap shots he was responsible for outside the ring!” replies King, as Jay’s face begins to turn purple. “Once the two of them got in the ring, they should have started out on a clean slate… But, you know what? It doesn’t surprise me to see Wildchild resort to such cheap tactics!”


“And just what’s that supposed to mean?”


“Wildchild knows that he couldn’t beat Hawke in a wrestling match,” replies King. “Hell, he probably figures that he couldn’t even beat him in a street fight, if he had to meet him face-to-face, so I’m not surprised to see him trying to attack from behind!” Red Herrington implores WC to release Jay from the choke, trying to appeal to his sense of mercy, since he can’t disqualify him. Finally, WC removes the gauze from Hawke’s throat and leads him back over to the corner, where he stands on the middle ropes and begins to administer a ten-count punch!
































“Wildchild on a roll, King!” says Comet. “Jay Hawke is going to have to pull something out of his bag of tricks if he wants to continue to hold on to the title!” WC pulls Jay out of the corner, but the Dean stuns him with a Greco-Roman thumb to the eye, and then scoops him up off the canvas, dropping him onto his outstretched thigh with an inverted Atomic Drop!


“Nice counter by the Champion!” praises King. “And good thinking to go to work on that injured tailbone!”


“Yeah,” Comet says dryly, “nothing says good technical wrestling like a thumb to the eye!” Hawke pulls WC forward and traps him in a front facelock. He then lifts him overhead and drives him back down to the canvas with a textbook vertical suplex!


“How’s that for technical wrestling?” mocks King, as Hawke floats over into a lateral press:
















“You have to give credit to the International Champion,” concedes Comet. “He’s sustained a lot of punishment here tonight, and yet he’s still had the wherewithal to take control of this match, and even get the first pin attempt!” Jay gets to his feet and hops into the air to deliver an elbowdrop, but the Tropical Tumbler rolls out of the way! WC beats Hawke to his feet and scoops him up for a slam, only for the Dean to shift his weight in midair and cause Wildchild to fall backwards! Jay holds him down for a pin…













… But only gets two! Hawke moves his forearm over WC’s throat and presses down onto it; Herrington appeals to the Champion to try and get him to release the hold, while Wildchild flails about on the canvas, gasping for air.


“Now this is more like it,” says King. “And now that Jay Hawke has been able to turn this into a wrestling match, it shouldn’t come as a surprise that he’s been able to take control!”


“Even so,” replies Comet, “you can’t help but notice that he’s been far more aggressive tonight than I’ve ever seen him! Even though he’s trying to keep this match as a ground-based affair, he’s venturing outside of his usual strategy a little!”


“Well, that’s to be expected,” says King. “These two have faced each other so many times that you HAVE to try something different. Jay Hawke may want to keep this a wrestling match, but he doesn’t want to make himself overly predictable, either!” Jay scrambles back to his feet and quickly hops back off the mat, delivering a kneedrop to Wildchild’s face.


“And you’ve got to attribute that to Jay Hawke’s experience advantage as a wrestler,” adds Comet, as Wildchild rolls towards the edge of the ring. “He knows all about how to keep an opponent on the defensive!” Hawke walks over to Wildchild and drops a knee right across his throat! He gets back to his feet, only to do it again, this time holding the knee against his throat as Herrington pleads with him to relent.


“Absolutely!” agrees King. “This is where the additional years of wrestling experience really serve Hawke well! He withstood the early assault from Wildchild, and by taking the brunt of that assault, he was able to slowly take Wildchild’s offense away from him; Wildchild is a guy who depends on using his body as a weapon, and Hawke just let him throw himself around until he wore himself out, and now he’s got this match well in hand!”


“He’s definitely a great Champion, there’s no doubt about that!” concedes Comet, as Herrington finally persuades Hawke to get off of WC’s throat. “He wouldn’t be where he is today if he wasn’t an outstanding wrestler!” Jay leads Wildchild over to the corner and bashes his head into the top turnbuckle… And then, just to be a prick, rakes WC across the eyes!






“Hawke going back to work on the head and neck area of Wildchild,” observes Comet, as Jay hammers WC in the back of the head with a forearm smash, “and I’m a little surprised that he hasn’t attempted to work the shoulders to set up that Wing Span!”


“Well, sometimes you have to do certain things to create openings for other things,” explains King. “And, with as many times as Wildchild and Jay Hawke have met in the ring, Jay probably feels that Wildchild is too familiar with his usual setup for the Wing Span; he probably feels that Wildchild might be able to counter if he telegraphs his strategy… so, like any good wrestler, he softens up another part of Wildchild’s body first, making him weaker, and more susceptible to attack in other areas.” Hawke drops another knee across Wildchild’s throat, but quickly gets back to his feet and taunts the crowd, which responds with hearty booing.


“Well, Hawke has his confidence back, there’s no question about that,” notes Comet. “You can tell by the look in his eyes that he feels he has Wildchild on the ropes… And it will be interesting to see how quickly Jay attempts to put the match away from here, because Wildchild may be ripe for the picking!” Jay pulls Wildchild into a front facelock and then twists sharply to his left, driving the challenger down to the mat with a winging neckbreaker! Hawke floats atop WC to apply a lateral press…
















“Unbelievable that Wildchild could kick out of that!” exclaims King. “I thought that Jay had him!”


“It’s entirely possible that he would have won this match if he’d only hooked the leg, King!”


“I have to agree,” concedes King. “That was a cardinal mistake for a veteran like Jay Hawke; I’m surprised that he didn’t hook that leg!” Jay gets back to his feet and quickly leaps into the air, dropping his outstretched leg across WC’s throat. He applies another lateral press:
















Wildchild sneaks out the back door! Hawke pounds the mat in disgust as WC tries to crawl away from him.


“That’s twice now!” squeals Comet. “Jay Hawke has had very poor execution on his pin attempts down the stretch in this match!”


“Absolutely!” agrees King. “He had better not make the mistake of taking Wildchild too lightly; Hawke might be the better wrestler, but you don’t want to take a chance of letting your opponent get a lucky shot in!” The Dean rolls Wildchild onto his stomach and then begins to deliver a series of kneedrops to the challenger’s left shoulder!


“Jay Hawke has controlled the action for several minutes, almost from the time they’ve entered the cage,” says Comet, as Hawke holds out WC’s left arm, and then kicks him in his unguarded left shoulder. “And King, I have to give you credit: Jay Hawke has started to go to work on that shoulder, just like you called it a couple of minutes ago!”


“Well, when you’ve been feuding off and on with a guy for the better part of a year, like these two have, you have to be aware of the fact that the other guy knows what your tendencies are; you have to be able to adapt, or your opponent is going to be able to neutralize your offense! Now that he’s got Wildchild distracted by injuries to other parts of his body, Jay Hawke is free to work on that shoulder!” The Champion pulls Wildchild to his feet and traps him in a hammerlock, and then leads him over to the corner and rams him shoulder-first into the top turnbuckle! As WC staggers out of the corner, the Dean grabs him by the back of the head and leads him towards the edge of the ring…






… Slamming him face first into the wall of the cage! Wildchild grabs onto the top rope for support as he slumps to the canvas, and Jay Hawke raises his arms triumphantly, to the dissatisfaction of the fans.






“This match has taken on a very methodical pace since Jay Hawke gained control,” notes Comet, as Hawke lifts WC onto his shoulder. “And now the Champion is going right back to that shoulder… Yes! Shoulderbreaker, and well executed!”
















“He didn’t get him there,” says King, “but you can tell that he’s getting closer!” Jay heads over to Wildchild to pull him back to his feet, but the Bahama Bomber fires a closed fist into his midsection! The energy exerted from the blow knocks WC onto his posterior, but he gets back onto one knee and sends another fist into the Champion’s belly! And another! The crowd starts to get behind Wildchild as he punches his way back to his feet.







“Unbelievable!” shouts Comet. “Look at Wildchild fire back! He’s made his way back to his feet, King!” Wildchild tries to go up high with a right cross, but the Dean blocks with his left forearm, and then sends Wildchild back down to the canvas with a headbutt! Hawke wipes some of the blood from his face, and then walks around Wildchild’s body towards his head and delivers another kneedrop to WC’s left shoulder!


“Hawke has been able to stifle every attempt at a comeback since getting into the ring,” says King. “But look at this… I can’t believe it; Wildchild’s back on his knees!” WC crawls away from Jay Hawke, breathing heavily as he attempts to get back to his feet, but the Dean walks up behind him, grabs him by the back of the head and leads him towards the edge of the ring…






… Slamming him headfirst into the wall of the cage! WC staggers across the ring to a neutral corner leaning against the turnbuckles as he tries to recover. Jay walks over towards him and attempts to pull him out of the corner, but the Caribbean Cruiser spins around without warning, and kicks the Champion in the gut!


“Wildchild still has some fight left in him,” says Comet, “but I don’t know if his body can continue to take this kind of punishment… And look at that, King: Wildchild appears to be bleeding! That last trip into the cage must have busted him open!”


“I’m not sure,” says King. “I need to get a better angle on… Yes! Wildchild’s been busted open! It’s not that bad yet, though; he may not have even realized it!” Hawke recovers before Wildchild and grabs him by the back of the head, pulling him roughly out of the corner, and then leads him across the ring, tossing him face-first into the cage wall yet again!


“Well, if he didn’t notice it before, he’s going to notice it now!” exclaims Comet, as Jay rakes Wildchild’s face across the steel mesh. “Jay Hawke has really opened up Wildchild’s face! Jay leads away from the edge of the ring and pops him in the face with a forearm shot, then quickly follows up with a headbutt that drops WC to his knees. He grabs the challenger by the back of the head and leads him over to the nearby corner to slam his head into the top turnbuckle, but the Bahama Bomber blocks by getting his foot up on the middle turnbuckle, and then rams Jay’s head into the buckle instead! WC’s eyes take on a feral appearance as he begins to batter the Champion with rapid-fire right hands, knocking him backwards towards the center of the ring!


“Wildchild’s firing back, King,” shouts Comet. “And look at his eyes! I’ve never seen a look like that in Wildchild’s eyes before!”


“I have,” says King woefully. “And it’s not good news for Jay Hawke!” WC grabs Hawke by the wrist and whips him across the ring, but the Dean still has the presence of mind to reverse. He tries to nail Wildchild with a back elbow as he bounces off the ropes, but the Human Hurricane ducks and sprint across the ring, exploding through the air as he rebounds a second time, and leveling Jay with a leg lariat! Wildchild pops up to his feet, tilting his blood-stained face to the rafters and unleashing a primal howl as the fans chant for him:







“He’s snapped!” cries Comet. “Wildchild has snapped! He’s gone into a frenzy, King!” WC pulls Hawke brusquely to his feet and leads him by the back of the head towards the edge of the ring, slamming him face-first into the cage wall! He then races towards the opposing ropes as Jay staggers back towards the center of the ring…






… And knocks him to the canvas with a flying shoulder tackle to the ribs!


“By Zeus!” exclaims Comet. “What a tremendous pouncing shoulderblock to the ribs by Wildchild!” WC cries out again before leading Hawke over to the corner and bashing his head repeatedly into the top turnbuckle! The fans count along with him:

































Hawke staggers feebly away from the corner and collapses to the canvas. Wildchild follows up by running to the ropes and leaps into the air as he rebounds, crashing into the Champion’s head with a flying headbutt! WC applies a lateral press!
















Jay Hawke kicks out at two! Wildchild pulls him to his feet, only to scoop him up and plant him back down on the canvas with a Scoop Slam. The challenger backs into the nearby corner and pulls himself onto the middle turnbuckles, from which he leaps back down into the ring, driving a vicious fistdrop between the eyes!


“Wildchild is in the zone, King!” exclaims Comet. “He has completely taken over this match!”


“Wildchild’s running on raw adrenaline right now,” says King. “Hawke needs to find a way to get him on the ground and sap that excess energy out of him, so that he can regain control!” WC pulls Hawke to his feet and continues to punish him with punches to the head. The gauze covering the challenger’s arms has been soaked in the Champion’s blood, as Wildchild draws back an arm and staggers Hawke with a reverse knife-edge chop! He grabs Jay by the side of the head and delivers a headbutt which drops him to one knee, and then runs towards the ropes, exploding into the air as he bounces off and knocking Jay backwards with a flying headbutt…



That sends him tumbling towards the door! Jay Hawke instinctively rolls onto his belly and begins crawling frantically towards the door of the cage!


“The door is open!” shouts Comet. “Jay Hawke’s going to make a break for it!”


“Go Hawke, Go!” cheers King. “You’re almost there!” Jay gets both hands locked around the threshold and begins to pull himself out of the cage! His hands touch the arena floor, and he begins to pull the rest of his body out!


“He’s done it!” crows King. “Once his feet touch the ground, it’s all over!”


But, before he can make a clean getaway, Wildchild races over and grabs him by his right leg! He starts to pull Jay back into the ring, but the Dean grabs onto the cage wall and begins to pull back!


“We’ve got a veritable tug of war going on here,” says Comet, “with the International Title on the line! Who’s going to win this battle, King?”


“Well, Jay Hawke would normally have the strength advantage, but the adrenaline running through Wildchild’s veins right now makes it just about even,” remarks King. “If Jay can just hold on until Wildchild starts to tire, he should be able to win this!”


“Perhaps,” ponders Comet. “But how long can Jay Hawke hang on before HE starts to tire?” Hawke begins kicking frantically at WC’s chest with his left leg to push him away, until the Bahama Bomber finally wises up and stands on the far side of Jay’s right leg. Suddenly, inspiration strikes him as he opens his mouth wide and latches his teeth onto Jay’s calf!





“Whoa! He’s biting him!” roars King. “How low can you get, to bite your opponent?” Caught by surprise, Jay screams out in pain and, for an instant, relaxes his grip on the cage wall…



… And instant that proves to be all the time that Wildchild needs…



WC pulls Jay back into the cage, and Hawke desperately crawls away from the challenger, begging off as Wildchild draws near. WC pulls Hawke to his feet, but the Dean stuns him with a rake of the eyes, and then he grabs Wildchild by the side of the head and slams the back of the challenger’s head against the canvas! Hawke turns away and walks towards the edge of the ring, leaning against the top rope to catch his breath, but the fans begin to cheer loudly as Wildchild pops back to his feet, eyes wide with rage!


“Unbelievable!” shouts King. “He’s back on his feet! Jay… turn around, quick!” The sudden increase in the crowd’s volume clues Jay in to something being amiss, and he turns around to see WC stomping towards him. He swings desperately with a right cross, but the Bahama Bomber blocks with his left forearm and knocks him to the canvas with a ferocious right hand! Wildchild grabs Hawke by the wrist and whips in into the corner, and then charges in after him and leaps into the air to deliver a splash, only for the International Champion to dive out of the way at the last second, causing WC to crash face-first into the top buckle instead!


“Excellent reflexes on the part of the Champion!” praises King, as Jay grabs onto the wall of the cage and begins to climb. “And now, he’s going to try and get out of the cage!” Wildchild dashes over to Jay and tries to push him off the cage, but the Dean kicks him away! Sensing that he does not have WC compromised enough to attempt escape, Jay turns back towards the ring, using the cage wall to balance himself as he springs off the top rope...






… And knocks Wildchild off his feet with a missile dropkick!


“Phenomenal move by Jay Hawke!” cheers King, as Hawke heads over to the corner. “And Jay Hawke’s going back to the top rope… I think he’s going for the diving headbutt!”


“By Zeus, King,” agrees Comet, “I think you’re right!”


“Well, if he hits this, he’s successfully defended his title! And how fitting would it be to beat Wildchild at his own game?” Hawke steadies himself on the top turnbuckle and then leaps off, aiming his head at Wildchild’s chest…






… But it jams into the canvas instead, as Wildchild rolls out of the way!


“He missed!” cries Comet, as Wildchild crawls over to the corner. “Jay Hawke has just made a critical mistake!” Wildchild whips Hawke into the corner, running to the opposing ropes as Jay bounces off the turnbuckles and leaping into the air, snaring the Champion in a side-headlock as he flies by and driving him face-first into the canvas with a bulldog! He rolls Hawke over and hooks the leg…

















But only gets two! WC pulls Hawke back to his feet and traps him in a front facelock. He reaches down to grab Hawke’s near leg and then lifts him into the air, turning three-quarters of a circle before falling backwards, slamming Jay’s head against the canvas with a corkscrew suplex!


“There’s that patented corkscrew vertical suplex!” reports Comet, as WC points his finger towards the sky. “And we know what that’s a setup for, King: Wildchild’s going up top!”


“This is a mistake; it was a mistake for Hawke, and it’ll be a mistake for Wildchild! Fatigue is too big a factor at this point in the match,” explains King.


Sure enough, as Wildchild begins climbing, Jay pulls himself up to his knees. Seeing WC’s back turned to him, the Dean scrambles to his feet and rushes over to the corner, leaps into the air and hits Wildchild from behind with a flying double-axe handle that knocks his head against the corner of the cage!


“What’d I tell you?” asks King triumphantly. “After the kind of beating these two have taken, even Wildchild is a step slower!” Jay climbs wearily up to the middle turnbuckle and wraps both arms around Wildchild’s waist before falling backwards, jerking WC off of the turnbuckles and driving him into the canvas with a devastating belly-to-back Superplex!


“Gorgeous Superplex by Jay Hawke!” crows King. “Too bad he wasn’t able to hold on, or this match would be over! It might STILL be over, if he can crawl over to Wildchild in the next few seconds!”


“That Superplex appeared to take a lot out of Jay Hawke as well,” notes Comet. “Or perhaps it’s the punishment he’s taken in this match catching up to him!” Determined to keep his title, Jay drags himself over to Wildchild, where he collapses atop his body…
























Jay’s eyes are nearly glassed over as he looks up at the lights in exasperation, as if asking some bodiless deity, “What do I have to do to put this guy away?”


“Boy, you can see it in Jay Hawke’s eyes, King,” notes Comet, “he did not think that Wildchild was going to kick out of that Superplex!”


“Neither did I!” concedes King. “I don’t think anybody did!” Wearily, Jay stands up and then pulls Wildchild to his feet alongside him. He kicks WC in the midsection to double him over, and then slaps his forearm to indicate his next move. Hawke runs to the edge of the ring, picking up speed as he bounces off the ropes, but the Bahama Bomber suddenly springs to life, side-stepping Hawke as he draws near and leading him by the back of the head across the ring, slamming him headfirst into the cage wall! Jay staggers back towards the center of the ring and drops to one knee as WC runs to the opposing ropes, leaping into the air as he rebounds and extending his leg over the back of Hawke’s neck…






… Before driving him face-first into the canvas with the Caribbean Cutter! The crowd begins cheering wildly as WC pops back to his feet, and become impossibly louder when he raises his arms above his head before pulling them down to his chest in that now familiar motion!






“That’s the sign for the Wild Ride!” gasps Comet. “If he hits this, we’ve got a new champion!” Wildchild traps Jay in an inverted standing headscissors and reaches back to lock in a double underhook. He then spins around and gets his feet squarely underneath him as he lifts Hawke onto his shoulders. WC looks out into the crowd and releases a primitive growl before he falls backwards…












“Wild Ride!” croaks Comet, as Wildchild rolls Hawke over. “By Zeus, it’s the Wild Ride! And Wildchild’s over for the cover… he hooks the leg… and this is about to be over, folks!” Nineteen thousand in attendance and several fans around the world count along with Red Herrington’s hand as it slaps the mat:



























“He did it!” cheers Comet, barely audible over the roar of the crowd. “He did it! History has been made!” Wildchild collapses onto his stomach as he rolls off the chest of the former champion. Herrington walks over to the cage door and waits for Kivell to hand the International Title in to him. He then walks back over to Wildchild, helping him to his feet as the camera shows Melissa Fasaki streaking back down to ringside.


“History has been made here in the America West Arena!” repeats Comet. “As the Wildchild has brought the record-breaking title reign of Jay Hawke to an end… And here comes Melissa Fasaki back to the ring to help Wildchild celebrate!”


“This is a miscarriage of justice!” snarls King. “Wildchild had to have the deck stacked in his favor to win this match! After failure after failure, for months upon months, it took a match that was designed to allow him to get away with anything just for him to finally be able to beat Jay Hawke! He couldn’t beat the man wrestling, so he had to make it dirty… this makes me sick!”


“Regardless of your personal feelings, King, this one will stand in the record books for all time,” says Comet, “as we get the official word!”






“Ladies and gentlemen,” booms Funyon, “the winner of this contest…










“Bouncin’ Back” can’t even be heard over the raucous crowd, as Herrington presents the International Championship to its new owner, and raises his hand aloft in victory.


“That was absolutely amazing!” praises Comet, as Melissa helps WC over to the corner. “Both men went all out to give these fans a tremendous match, and you can hear the appreciation from these fans here tonight!” Melissa holds the title for Wildchild as he begins climbing up the turnbuckles, and the America West Arena begins to echo with a chant of gratitude to the two competitors:







“The fans here in the America West Arena are giving a standing ovation to both of these men!” shouts Comet. “Jay Hawke, you have nothing to be ashamed of; you’re the greatest International Champion of all time, and you gave it one hell of an effort tonight… But congratulations to the Wildchild! Perhaps the biggest victory of his career, as he has become the new International Champion! He’s bleeding, and he’s hurt… but he’s got the gold! Folks, we’re going to have to take a brief intermission while we take down the cage to get ready for our next match!”


Jay leaves the cage dejectedly while Wildchild ascends to the top. Once he situates himself on the lip of the cage, he reaches down to Melissa as he reaches up to hand him the International Title. As Wildchild raises the belt above his head, the chants turn to cheers as the fans all remain standing to applaud both wrestlers…



As we:


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The backstage halls are all but quiet as From the Fire proceeds in the American West Arena. Heading toward the stage, Spike Jenkins and Zyon walk side by side, also quiet. They’re individually focused on the task at hand.. Tag Team gold. The camera follows them as they pass, then remains focused on a dark doorway. As the team moves beyond the door, a large figure steps out.




‘The Perfect Storm’ Sean Davis appears in the hallway, watching as Jenkins disappears around a corner. His fists clench as all the muscles in his upper body tighten.


“Sean Davis showing restraint.. it’s more than apparent that the former Revolution Zero members have some issues to work out,” states the Suicide King.


Davis strides forward, following Spike down the hall and out of sight. The camera view switches to the commentating table, focusing on Cyclone Comet.


Comet adds, “This does not bode well for Mister Jenkins.. I only hope that Davis keeps his nose out of the Tag Team Championship match! Because it’s next!”

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The crowd eases their way back into anxiousness, as the next match up is none other than the first of a two part main event. Some SWF officials scramble around ringside setting out the tables, ladders, and chairs for the match between the Lethal Lottery finalists and the defending and reigning champions, Max King and Landon Maddix.


"Well, there's only two matches left to call with this goon," the SWF cameras pan over to a smiling Comet, who turns to his partner questioning his heated words with his sympathetic eye movements, "And what BETTER way to pass the head splitting time then to watch 6 men split each other's heads with TABLES, LADDERS…AND CHAIRS!"


Almost immediately, the Megalomaniac by Incubus cuts in and interrupts what was about to be a classic Hero vs. Villain encounter between Comet and King. Out from the back comes Landon Maddix who is closely followed by his partner and fellow tag team champion, Max King. Funyon cuts in a bit late, as his voice bellows as a shadow to their entrance. "Entering now at a combined weight of 474 pounds, they are your WORLD ES DUBYOU EFF TAG TEAM CHAMPIONS, Landon 'La Cucaracha' Maddix and Max King…" Before Funyon is able to finish, Spike Jenkins and Zyon fire out behind Maddix and King cutting their entrance short as Funyon stutters and stops, the crowd standing and flashing quick photos.


Comet sits up in his chair and looks on at the action, "Holy HECK," he shouts out somewhat excited but shocked as well, "Spike Jenkins and Zyon just LEAPED at the champs!"


"YES," King shouts out happily, "Show that no good scum bag a beating, Spike!"


Behind Spike, who has begun pounding on the back of an unexpected Landon Maddix, comes Zyon, wielding a long ladder, his head between the rungs. He twirls the ladder into Max, turning in time to catch the end right to his cheek sending him to his knees in pain. Just to the right of Zyon, Landon kneels, but manages to turn to Spike, fighting him off and attempting to fend off the repeated blows. Next to the pair, Zyon lifts the ladder and drops it onto the back of Max King, who folds under the slamming pressure of the metal to his bare back. Zyon turns now and begins driving his own thrusting elbows and kicks to Maddix as Spike holds up his own end, Maddix unable to fend the both of them off.


"Jumpin' johosifits," exclaims Comet, "This thing's just erupted, and the third team, Asia Underground, has yet to ENTER!" King ignores the comment from Comet, looking on at the ensuing action near the top of the stage. Out from the back, though, to a very warm welcome comes Akira of the Asia Underground, charging towards Zyon, Max King – who has begun moving – and Spike Jenkins, as Maddix stands up now attempt to continually block a barrage of strikes. Zyon turns to the man who he just recently dropped his coveted Cruiserweight Title to and is blasted with an ECHOING Roaring Elbow as the crowd pops. Right behind, lagging due to a left knee injury, is Mike Cross, wielding a table awkwardly under his left arm and a steel chair in his right. He approaches the action and drops the table, turning to Max King who has managed to pull his body out from the heavy ladder and back to his feet, albeit unsteadily.




Cross wallops King with a chair shot right over his back, making an already sore area red from the sharp and stinging metal shot. He folds just barely, Cross' attempt unable to do significant damage due to his lack of ability to get the leverage and body motion behind the shot. King stands back up almost no selling the shot and turn to Cross, who winds up again.




The crowd is awed behind the significant difference, Cross putting his left knee forward and driving the chair over King's head and sending him thudding to his back unexpectedly. Cross hobbles on his right leg as Akira, Maddix, Jenkins, and Zyon exchange an unorganized amount of punishment at each other, standing around and throwing kicks, punches, chops, and slaps.


"YES," King shouts for a second time, even more excited by the violence ensuing ever so close to the top of the ramp, "I LOVE IT, I LOVE IT! Hit him again, Cross, crack that bastard for ever teaming with Maddix!"


Cross hobbles, dropping the chair as King checks his face, shocked almost. Zyon and Spike turn the tides of the clusterfuck of strikes near the edge of the ramp, as Maddix and Akira are forced to fight together as SpYon works together. Cross turns his attention to the ladder near Max King, who grumbles to his side in pain. He picks it up and sets up the ladder, a good 15 feet in the air on the stage, hanging dangerously over the action several feet below. The crowd's cameras flash as they awe at the height, popping for the possibility of a MASSIVE spot.


"Cross is looking like he wants to fly," Comet responds informatively as if having experienced such a thing, "I can say that he's not cut out, but maybe in time he can learn from me!"


"You idiot, you're not a real superhero," King interrupts, almost having enough of the mind-numbing, cheesy blabber from Comet, "I wish you'd disappear!" King turns, and what appears to be Comet in a disguise, though, a not very good one (think fake mustache and big black glasses) smiles at him. King shakes his head, and looks back over to the ramp, Cross climbing up the steps of the ladder at the crowd's requests. He makes his way to the top and raises his hand in the air, as Max King begins moving. The 4 men below look up, pausing at the man standing high above them. They hold out their hands to catch him as Cross looks confused.




The crowd's cameras ignite in a blaze as Max King shakes Cross from the ladder sending him looping off of it and down through the air as they cheer loudly in awe. The 4 men, Spike, Zyon, Akira, and Landon hold their hands up as Cross comes crashing down over them, all 5 folding and splattering across the ramp like squashed bug under the threat of a fly swatter.


The fans near the ramp jump around rabidly, cheering like true hardcore fans at the violence ensuing just feet from their own eyes.








"Holy shit is right!" King looks shocked as Max King stands atop the stage looking over his self-created destruction with pleasure, "Cross just fell off that ladder; Christ only knows how many feed are added to the fact that he had leverage over the fall! Hell, that man should be dead!" Comet cringes at the vulgar words and violence, looking awed and concerned, "Leapin' orangutan, Cross just showed up my own flying techniques!"


Max turns to the ladder, satisfied with the violence he's caused, and folds it up, dragging it behind himself down the ramp and to the ring, as Cross, Akira, Jenkins, Zyon, and his own partner begin to crawl around, finding their bearings. King wastes no time sliding the ladder into the ring, looking up at the dangling belts, and grabbing the ladder in a quick attempt to gain back what he considers his own.


"Oh, COME ON," King demands much more with his voice, "One measly, little punk falls off a ladder and this thing's already over?! These guys don't even deserve those belts, they never even defend them!" The crowd seems to agree as they boo the lazy efforts of Max King, who sets up the ladder just under the belts.


"Max isn't alone, King, his partner and BOTH teams are rising up like super villains – they're refusing to call it quits!" Comet's voice seems somewhat noble now.


"Shut up…" but King is cut off almost immediately by Comet. "Do NOT tell me what to do you no good scoundrel; I don't want to have to force the powers of the noble and the right on you!" King points his finger in Comet's face, which is swiped out of the way immediately, Comet turning and ignoring King as Max begins to ascend up the rungs of the ladder.


CLANK, Max takes his first step up as Akira, Spike, Maddix, and Zyon make their way back to their feet. He slows, looking side to side.



















Everyone but Cross is back to their feat without the slightest sign of instability. Maddix pushes the three back sending them stumbling. Gaining back their footing, the three men push Maddix hard out of the way and dash towards the ring in an effort to quickly halter the plans of Max King, edging closer to the top. Maddix flops to his hip but turns and rebounds attempting to follow and hold off his opponents. He runs, but is snagged by the ankle.




Maddix's face bounces off the ramp, offering a nasty whiplash effect.




Comet applauds solemnly at Cross' quick thinking, "A noble effort by Cross to work through the pain and give his fellow super friends the time to end this blasphemy going on the ring!" King somewhat nods, but continues to watch, pleased at the sight of Maddix's nose oozing little droplets of red as he holds it sympathetically.


One by one, Zyon, Spike, and Akira slide into the ring and rush to the ladder as Max King realizes their presence in the ring. As the three men approach, Max King slows, confused whether to make one last ditch effort to reach the belts or to abort and save himself the pain of falling from the top. At the last second, Max reaches up and snags hold of the chord, SpYKira missing their cue and knocking the ladder right out from under Max, who dangles 15 feet above their head's. The three look around and give each other an "OH SHIT" look, as the crowd's response ignites the arena in the sight of flashing cameras and loud cheers. Max wags his legs, but nothing there. Looking almost terrified, he swings his body around, thrashing as he grips to the rope (NOT THE BELTS) desperately and looking for a way out.


"Ha-ha!" King's voice reigns supreme, even over the crowd's cheers, "Look at him, he's like a defenseless mouse caught in a trap, guided their by the scent of cheese! Look what your anxiousness and greed cost you!"


A replay cuts to the screen showing Cross grabbing Maddix's leg as Akira in real-time exits the ring. Maddix sees his blood and turns to face Cross, aggressively thrusting nasty kicks to his face, the pain of his knee and the impact from the fall rendering him helpless against Maddix's barrage of thrusting kicks to his face. The screen returns to normal as Maddix struts his way back to ringside, making a charging effort to take out Akira, but to no luck, as Akira responds with yet another Roaring Elbow that sends Maddix back to the mat gripping his nose, and now his neck as well. In the ring, Spike and Zyon fight with Max King, who continually kicks their attempts to set the ladder up, kicking it away again and again.


"This guy's an idiot," King exclaims loudly and abruptly, "If he'd let him set that ladder up, he'd be able to put his feet down and get those belts!" Comet turns and interrupts almost immediately, "I don't think under that pressure that you'd be thinking, and in all fairness, KING, why aren't Spike and Zyon setting the ladder up away from him in an attempt to strike him off, or why doesn't he just reach his hand up there and unhook those straps!? It's the spur of the moment, and until you get the experience of dealing with things head on and getting caught up in the action, maybe you should just keep it shut, you miscreant!" Before King can respond, Comet turns away and continues calling the action having seemed like he hadn't missed a beat.


Outside, Akira grabs a table quickly after elbowing Maddix with GUSTO~! He slides it under the ring as Spike and Zyon guide the ladder together, swatting at Max King who swivels and maneuvers, not really in position to dodge the shots. Akira quickly gets to work setting up the table, sliding it under Max King who dangles and begins thrashing again. Zyon and Spike swing again and again, smacking King in the back without any real effect, King gripping tightly.















A replay slides into the screen recapping the unintentional shot to Max King's groin that momentarily let him lose his grip, forcing a scramble. The crowd's cameras go off as Max inevitably comes falling down onto the table, smashing it into pieces as the crowd erupts in their typical chants.


King smacks his hands together, laughing obnoxiously as he stares at the carnage in the ring, "YES, I LOVE IT!"


Comet scolds King, and then turns back to the action, "That man just went CRASHING through that table! HE HAS TO BE OBLITERATED!"


Almost immediately, Spike and Zyon turn to Akira and fight him into the corner, chopping, punching, and generally overwhelming him. Zyon backs away and turns to the rubble of the table as Max rolls away and under the turnbuckle. He picks up a large chunk of what's left of the wood, turns, and drives it over the head of Akira breaking it right in half. Akira drops to his BUTT, and then rolls out of the ring, where Cross and Maddix have finally made their way back to their feet. Spike and Zyon look to one another and then charge to the ropes opposite of side where Akira, Cross, and Maddix stand somewhat and temporarily stunned. They fly across the canvas, dodging the remains of the table on the way across, and cross paths, performing synchronized suicide dives onto their opposition. The crowd lights up in response, popping for the daring and impressive move.




The opposite sides of the crowd begin competing.






Zyon and Spike stand up together, facing the crowd and posing, cameras flashing as the three men who received the dives begin to roll around, attempting to raise themselves to their feet.






"SPIKE!" King's voice interjects into the competing as Comet almost immediately follows up with, "ZYON!" They fight for their voice to be heard until Comet interrupts, pointing out the two working well together despite a history that would suggest otherwise.


Inside the ring, Max King begins showing SOME SIGNS of life, moving slightly, and addressing his injuries accordingly. His partner outside the ring is also regaining some steam, despite a rough early start. Cross, Akira, and Maddix all begin to get to their feet as SpYon turns their attention back to the match, but are too late, as the 5 men standing begin to brawl back and forth. Akira backs Zyon up against the guard rail pummeling him with several elbows as Maddix attacks Cross who in turn begins firing some of his own punches at Spike. Maddix throws several of his punches towards Cross sloppily, who manages to fight Spike off for a moment allowing him to turn his attention to La Cucaracha. Cross blocks a left, and then a right, as Akira disposes of Zyon with an elbow, now turning his attention to Landon. Together, Cross and Akira work Landon down, Akira hitting several assorted kicks, backing Landon up near the apron. Akira steps back and turns, round housing Landon right in the head as Cross ducks and sweeps the legs of La Cucaracha out from under him, sending him folding back and SMACKING his head into the apron.








Just as Landon folds to his side in pain, SpYon gets their open chance and attacks both Cross and Akira. Spike steps at Cross and kicks the back of his leg out as he attempts to get back to his feet, awkwardly bending it and sending Cross to his side in agony. Zyon focuses on Akira and pushes him up against the apron, slapping at his chest as Spike kicks and maneuvers Cross out of the way, allowing him now to turn to Akira. Together, SpYon begins to work Akira, striking him multiple times and wearing him down. Spike pulls Akira back and coordinates something to Zyon via pointing, who acknowledges Spike and hooks the Devine Wind as if he's about to suplex him into the guard rail. On the opposite side, Spike hooks the arm up and over in the same way his partner did. They pause, look at each other, and then lift Akira up, holding him.






Akira is sent CRASHING into the stands after being suplexed right onto the guard rail, fans igniting around the scene in mixed chants of "LET'S GO SPIKE!" and "LET'S GO ZYON!" Several of the chairs have been misplaced as Cross lays several feet from the scene, still unable to fend off the double team. Landon begins to pull himself back up and Max King is still in la-la land, now showing signs of awareness as he sits crumpled in the corner near where Cross lays.


"It's still early in this match and already we've got PURE carnage," Comet's voice rings out as the action momentarily hits a stopping point, "Cross is hurt, Akira's back has been destroyed by acts of a dastardly degree, Max King has been victimized by a table, and Landon Maddix has been left to wallow in his own despair!" King is in awe, seemingly happy and satisfied, with the destruction laid out before him.


The crowd huddles in a circle around Akira, as Spike picks up a nearby ladder and follows him into the crowd, followed closely by Zyon who enter the picture wielding half of a table that appears to have been broken. Akira has managed to prop himself up using his hand, as he attempts to move back to his feet as SpYon approaches. Spike drops the ladder and turns to Akira, picking him up and tearing at his mask in the process, totally disrespecting him. He holds Cross in the human-shield position as Zyon winds up.






Akira not only dukes, but manages to pull the head of Spike over slightly, putting him right in the line of fire for a CRUSHING table shot from Zyon. Akira has ample time and is able to get back to his feet as Zyon looks over at his partner, his look unremorseful yet showing he at least cares.


"Ha!" King's voice cuts in, pressing the point of what just happened, "That jackass, Zyon, just crossed a line! He'll be lucky if Spike doesn't annihilate him!"


Comet cuts in now as the voice of sensibility and reason, causing Hell to freeze over. "Spike, SPIKE? If he knows anything about team work and what needs to be done for the greater good of humanity, he'll shrug off the blow and do what's important!"


Ringside, Landon has finally gotten back to his feet, giving himself a rest before forcing his body over the rail. Cross lays on watching the action as Max King slides out, finally moving again, still somewhat unstable. He follows Maddix into the crowd, stumbling sloppily over the barricade and following Maddix several yards in, the crowd surrounding as SWF security wards off intoxicated members of the crowd. As everyone exits ringside, Cross kneels back onto his feet, looking around. He gets back and steadily walks around a few feet, before stopping in front of several tables, ladders, and chairs. The cameras focus on the Suicide Machine who walks around ringside setting up tables everywhere, with at least on each side of the ring. The cameras turn their attention back to the crowd where the brawl has spewed out into an open area where security holds fans back, Zyon and Akira dueling with Landon Maddix and Max King for position, Spike now regaining composure several yards from where the action is. Before he can make his way over, though, Cross manages to pull his sluggish left leg over the barricade, working his way towards the ladder, Spike's back turned to him. He picks up the ladder and approaches the turtle-walking Spike, slapping the rungs over his shoulders, the ladder facing long ways in front of him, a majority of the length behind him. Mike punches Jenkins in the face, warding off the signs of fight as he walks him to the brawl.


"Spike is in a dangerous position," Comet cuts in, not concerned, but interested, "Cross has walked him to the scene of the brawl after forcing a ladder over his head and down over his shoulders, trapping him between rungs with no immanent escape!"


Cross picks up speed, his knee noticeably limping along as he ignores the pain. He gets behind the end of the ladder, Spike facing away from him, and thrusts it forward.










The ladder ran directly into the wall, crushing the sternum of Jenkins as it compressed forward, and then nearly breaking his damn back after he fell back, the ladder catching on the ground, arching Spike's back as the ladder leans, Spike's body acting as a fulcrum for what looks now like a see-saw. The brawling between the two party's stops for a moment, until Max King and Landon Maddix take advantage and overwhelm Zyon and Akira with several well timed and impact full strikes, grounding them both for the time being. Cross turns, but is met with a HUGE Maddix-Kick that sends Cross stumbling back and off his left leg, kneeling. From behind, Max King sneaks up on Cross, lifting him up in a head and arm choke completely off of his feet. He holds him there for a moment until his stamina gives way. He drops Cross face first onto the cement and then slaps a knee right into his back, pulling back on the choke as the crowd snaps pictures of Max King's finish, The Compressor. However, Max and Maddix ignore Akira and Zyon, who both jump on Maddix like piranhas on fresh meat. Landon falls as Akira quickly looks for a chair, finding what he wants almost immediately in a sea of them. Knowing Akira and Zyon are right there, Max King pulls back as hard as he can, Cross growling and spitting in pain, as Akira approaches behind him.







A thunderous chair shot comes right over the crown of the head of Max King, the chair opening and sliding over his head as the crowd erupts at the sight of the violence, unaware of Akira's ability to launch his whole body into a THUNDEROUS shot.













Out of nowhere, Zyon matches Akira's shot with a HUGE one of his own, thrusting the chair over his opponent's head similar to what Akira did to Max King just moments before.













Out of nowhere, Landon Maddix swipes a chair shot to the back of Zyon's head, swinging it exactly like you'd swing a baseball bat and nearly launching Zyon's head into the stands as the crowd somewhat boos, but erupts at the absolutely insane shot.










Landon stands and turns around, welcoming the chants as he marvels in his greatness, turning and holding his arms out, and then throwing his hair back cockily. The crowd responds almost immediately.








Landon turns and shouts in rage, kicking chairs around and throwing security round, telling them to stop the chants. He continues to kick things around, turning back to the action looking to implement his rage and frustrations on one of his opponents.









The cameras pan to see Spike, raised from the dead, crush a chair over the head of Landon Maddix who falls back stunned, a trickle of blood now exiting the wound newly formed just an inch away from his hairline, the crimson staining his blonde hair. Spike plays to the crowd, wielding the chair in his hand. As he turns, he's met face to face with Zyon, who pauses as they stare each other down. The crowd silences almost instantly, a pin drop heard in the distance.


"HIT THAT PUNK," demands King loudly, "Get him for what he did to you, Spike!"


Spike waits, looking down at the chair, and then back up at Zyon. The camera zooms in on the two men as the rest lay aiding their wounds.


"Tonight isn't about you and me," Spike says sternly, "Tonight's about those god damn belts!" Spike throws down his chair and slaps the chest of Zyon. "Let's spill these mother fuckers's blood and take those belts, you and I can fight another day." Zyon pauses and the two force a look at each other, and then turn away from one another.




Almost instantly they're both hit with a chair. The camera zooms out to see Landon standing over Spike shaking in absolute rage, blood spilling from his cut, and then turns to see Max King standing over Zyon. The crowd boos, the moment tarnished now. Max stares over at Landon who looks up. The two turn their heads to Cross and Akira.











The crowd erupts in cheers as both Landon and Max are floored next to the men they'd just annihilated with chair shots of their own, blood spattering the ground as the two members of Asia Underground stand side by side, glare at each other and then throw down their weapons.










"Holy HECK, King!" Comet's voice breaks the silence between the commentators, nearly shriveled by the crowd's response, "I don't think there was a single man out there who didn't get assaulted by a SINISTER chair shot!"


"I love it, Comet," King's voice interjects; happily, "I love it! That bastard Cockroach got what was coming to him, and the rest can all go to hell…except Spike!"


Cross turns to the ladder and leans it up against the wall that rises up an entirely different stand of fans, at least 15 feet up, if not higher. The crowd above flash cameras and cheer loudly as below the fans are preoccupied with the movement of all the men, dragging themselves back to their feet. The crowd gets hot as Zyon and Akira duke it out slowly, followed by Spike and Landon, and then finally Max King who ignores the wide open Cross and begins to double team Spike with Landon. Cross looks on, and then begins to climb, cameras flashing as he makes his way up the ladder, his knee straggling a bit as he manages to drag himself up each step of the way. As he approaches the top, several fans reach out, assisting the young man up onto the second level, snapping pictures, highfiving him, and patting his back as he makes his way into the new deck of seating. He stands up on the railing as all of the men turn and look up at the sounds of the screams and cheers and rapid fire flash photography. Cross' knee almost gives, but he fights the pain and stands atop the rail. He raises his hands up as if some kind of angel coming down from the heavens, and then he drops, folding over and twisting. He topples onto all 5 men who catch him and fold back, dropping him almost directly onto his feet as the crowd erupts in massive cheers.








As Cross makes his way over to his feet, kneeling and totally exhausted, he stands up wobbling and salutes the crowd like a batter after hitting a home run, the crowd pleading for an encore and cheering louder than ever.








"Cross, CROSS!" Comet seems absolutely in awe, cheering on the young man and his second attempt at flight. "UNBELIEVABLE, this guy redefines what it means to fly - he just proved his nickname!"


None of the men seem too phased, their momentum and energy now at an all time high as the battle for the belts regains steam, everyone making their way back to their feet as Cross attempts to make his way back to ringside. Several of the men brawl their way back, but Cross makes it first, stumbling over the barricade and back to the mat, thudding next to a table, and then dragging himself away from harm and into the ring as all 5 men punch, kick, scrape, and crawl at each other, all while flopping sloppily back over the barrier and back to ringside. Cross crawls across the ring and slides out to the other side of the ring away from Zyon, Spike, Maddix, Max, and Akira. He waltzes around a table and over to a ladder, this one nearing at least 20 feet. He props it up on the near by table and uses that to slide it over to the apron and into the ring. He slowly drags himself into the ring, then props himself near the ladder, seated in the corner and aiding his badly damaged knee.


Outside the ring, Maddix and Max have begun dueling with Spike as Zyon and Akira go at each other's throats. Maddix and Max manage to separate Spike from Zyon, pulling him towards the corner near a table. Together, Maddix and Max bash Spike's head into the corner post, Max lifting Spike up onto the apron near the corner, walking around to the other side and dragging Spike up to his feet as Landon steps up on the apron. La Cucaracha directs traffic as Max King pulls Jenkins up into a standing position near, Spike's back to the table and facing the post. Maddix enters the ring, totally ignoring the blood dripping down his face and Mike Cross across the ring from him. He steps up to the top rope and then sits, facing a weary and tired Spike Jenkins. He wraps his arm around his head, and then signals a tornado motion with his other hand. The crowd pops for the potential spot, as Max claps. Maddix turns and rotates around, as he swings down looking for the Crash Landon off the apron and through the near by table.
















Spike managed to hold Maddix from getting the leverage and swing, dropping down and folding him over with The Highlighter that dropped him almost head first through the table, cracking it in half as his body lays folded in the remains. Spike breaths hard, and then stands to his feet, turning to face a stunned Max King who jumps almost over the turnbuckle to get at Jenkins.






Across the ring, Zyon is fairing about as well as Spike, fending off Akira as Cross begins preparing a move to the ladder and the belts.


Back by Jenkins, Max's unwise lunge at Spike has left him wide open, as Spike delivers cocking punch after cocking punch, dragging him up to the top rope. He drags him across slightly, his legs being held up as he locks him in a front face lock. Spike drops driving him THUNDEROUSLY down into the apron, crushing his head in a DDT, shaking the ring. The crowd lights up as it comes down to two more teams.


"Here we go; we're in the final stretches of the match!"


Cross continues to sit, waiting it out as Akira and Zyon make their way over to Spike, continuing to brawl, neither willing to give in – shades of their title matches with one another. Spike waits it out, resting as well, as Akira gains control over Zyon and lights him up with a huge roaring elbow that sends him stumbling back. Again, he turns and drives a forceful elbow to the face of Zyon, this time stumbling back even further. Akira looks to the ground as an exhausted Spike looks to want to do something, but flops to his ass like Cross, gathering his energy. Akira spots a chair, picks it up, and slides it over his arm, covering his elbow as Zyon stands back up to his feet. Akira turns and stumbles towards Zyon.









Zyon's face is met with a CRUSHING Steel Roaring Elbow that sends him collapsing - not falling - COLLAPSING to his side as Akira kneels in exhaustion, the crowd cheering for both teams as Maddix lays decimated with Max King nearing close to him. Cross rolls out of the ring and looks to the tables he'd set up earlier, pushing them together side by side, and then turning to one leaning on the barricade as Spike enters the ring and begins an attempt to balance the 20 foot ladder and set it up. Akira leans a ladder near by up against a post and enters the ring slowly, attempt to halt Spike Jenkins's efforts to get the belts. The camera pans to Cross who has set up a third table atop the two, creating a tower like structure, proceeding to enter the ring. Before Akira can stop Spike, he drops the ladder down and OVER his head, sending him to his BUTT, and almost out of it. Akira manages to reach Spike, though, and scrapes his back, causing him to drop the ladder right on top of Cross who fidgets in pain, his knee getting crushed as the ladder's lanky body balances on an angle, caught on the ropes. Akira slowly whips Jenkins to the corner, following him over and then setting him up into a sitting position atop the turnbuckle. Akira signals for the end as Zyon begins moving on the outside. Akira steps up to the second rope, springs up, and swings his legs up and over the shoulders of Spike, attempting a super huricanrana. The crowd pops, but Spike catches it and pulls him back up into a powerbomb position. Akira fights, punching and poking at the face of Jenkins, who struggles to keep Akira up. On the outside, Zyon sees this and immediately uses the ladder left to put himself on the same level as his partner and Akira Kaibatsu. He steadies himself, and leaps forward, connecting with a drop kick that sends him folding down, totally obliterated, expending his own body and flopping down hard to the outside, laying motionless and exhausted on the outside next to the bloody Landon Maddix and the somewhat-moving Max King. Spike grips the legs of Akira and stands up on the second rope, the crowd erupting in response.




Spike signals for the end confidently, and then leaps off the ropes, dropping Akira down belly first, crushing him under his own weight. The crowd erupts as Akira lays motionless on the mat, Spike sitting there over Akira in exhaustion as Cross slides out from under the ladder. Both sigh, and look at the ladder, both seemingly out of it as Max King comes back into the picture, sliding into the ring. Spike begins to move off of Akira as Max makes a dash for the ladder, dropping Cross with a club-like blow and taking the 20 foot ladder for his own. Spike is too late as Max begins to ascend the ladder in search of the gold.




The crowd erupts as Spike approaches the ladder.




























Outside the ring, decimated and laying in a rubble of three tables is Max King, utterly obliterated. The crowd is going insane as Spike takes a breather, as Cross makes a move on the tipsy ladder, setting it upright and attempting to climb, very slowly, however, and closely followed by Spike Jenkins.













Slowly as the crowd is on edge, cameras flashing, both men attempting to scale the ladder, each throwing lazy and sloppy punches to obstruct each other.

































Closer to the top, inching their way up as Akira and Zyon both begin showing life.


















"Both men are there, at the top, nearing the prize they've been fighting for, and close than ever!" Comet's comments grace the sound waves as the crowd continues to erupt, cameras going off like nobody's business.


Cross throws a punch that gets blocked, and is countered with a stiff shot, sending him down not one, not two, but three rungs, WAY out of reach now as the crowd cheers on Spike. Cross, realizing he has no shot climbs from the side he's climbing to the other, as the ladder gets tipsy in the center of the ring. He climbs up and hammers away at the back of Spike, who drops down a rung. Akira begins crawling near the ladder, near the side Cross had originally been climbing, looking like a man possessed as Zyon follows, attempting to drag his own body into the ring. He drags himself up the first rung, and from there, it's a race to the top as Cross attempts to hold him off. He's to the second rung, now the third, inching ever so close to the top as Zyon finally makes his way into the ring, crawling to Akira, but nowhere within reach as he lazily attempts to pull himself to his feet using the ropes. By now, Akira and Spike are face to face, Cross elevated up to where Spike is now almost seated on his shoulders. Spike attempts to climb up and grab the belts, his finger tips touching them. The belts dangle right in front of him, however, Cross locks his arms around and through the rungs, trapping Spike's legs as Akira climbs up. The crowd is going ballistic as Akira turns away from Spike and elbows him before wrapping his arm around his neck. Before Zyon can lunge to make a difference, Akira is up and over the top of Spike, pulling him OFF the ladder and crashing down to the ring for an at least 15 foot assisted Divine Wind! The crowd erupts as the place goes absolutely crazy; Zyon's finger tips on the first rung of the ladder as he sees his last hopes fade away.










Cross lets out a breath and drags his one-legged body up the ladder, limping and dragging his battered knee. He makes his way to the top as the crowd shouts and cheers in response, going absolutely NUTS.






Cross grabs the strap of one and pulls, both of them releasing as the bell rings and the crowd's cameras go off like crazy. Zyon lays in dismay as Akira and Spike lay exhausted and destroyed on the mat - Landon and Max both out in a rubble of wood. Cross stands on one leg above the ring, raising the straps with both arms and lifting his head in satisfaction as "Voodoo People (Pendulum Remix)" by Prodigy hits the PA system.


"They did it, the Cinderella Story is complete!" Comet exclaims, "The Asia Underground is your NEW SWF Tag Team Champions!"


On that note, Funyon chimes in.




The crowd pauses.




The crowd erupts as Cross limps down, Kobe coming from the back and supporting the two men to their feet, leaving with the belts in hand. The crowd cheers ecstatically as the three men begin their leave, as the paramedics and officials clean up the mess, and as the cameras cut to the next segment.

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After a quick advertisement for the SWF's April pay per view, Battleground, From the Fire resumes its action at ringside. "Born From Fire" by Amorphis plays in the background as the camera returns to an image of the commentary table, occupied by color commentator Suicide King, and substitute play by play man Cyclone Comet.


"We're back live in Phoenix, Arizona," says Cyclone Comet, "in the sold out American West Arena for SWF From the Fire!"


"If you're just joining us," says King. "you'd better have the rest of this show on DVR or something, because otherwise you've just shelled out forty bucks for two matches! Anyway, I'm the Suicide King, accompanied here by temporary replacement--"


"CYCLOOOOONE COMET!" hollers Comet, interrupting King.


"Uh, yeah," mutters King. "Comet is filling in for Longdogger Pete, who is in action coming up next."


"That's right, King!" exclaims Comet. "Just one match removed from the main event, we're going to see the One Man Wrecking Crew himself, Longdogger Pete, as he comes out of retirement to face his own dastardly son, Kevin Coyote, in a street fight to the finish!"


"And when we say 'finish,' we mean it," continues King. "Both men have put their careers on the line in this match! The loser will have his SWF contract terminated!"


"It's an explosive and emotional match, and it's coming up NEXT!" shouts Comet.


Inside the ring, Funyon is prepared to introduce the match and its competitors. "Ladies and gentlemen," he announces, "the following contest is a career versus career street fight, scheduled for ONE fall!"


The Phoenix audience goes silent as they wait to see which competitor enters the arena first.




The crowd explodes as a white burst of pyrotechnics erupts on stage, and smoke begins to pour out. Longdogger Pete steps out of the smoke, dressed in black jean shorts and a black SWF T-shirt that reads "True Champion." He also wears black knee pads and leg braces on both legs. Pete begins walking down the ramp, taking in the audience approval as "Baseline" by Quarashi plays on the speakers.


Baseline, baseline

we've got fools on the case and their giving me baseline

Baseline, baseline

Baseline, baseline

we've got fools on the case and their giving me baseline

Baseline, baseline


"Introducing first," announces Funyon, "making his return to the ring, from Miami, Florida, weighing in at 277 pounds... LONGDOGGERRRRRR PEEEEEEEEETE!"


"How exciting!" says Comet. "This is LDP's first SWF match in three years!"


"And very possibly his last," adds King.


Now we're back in the game

The Quarashi pain it's plain

I see the suckers fall out and the fuckers call out

Pick me up. But they don't know what it's about

I do my shit on the mic and I'm pleasing the crowd

Jump back, get back or else your getting a smack

on your face just like your daddy used to smack you way back in the days

This ain't no silly ass game I'm playing

hear what I'm saying, now start praying


Pete climbs into the ring and stands in the center, raising his fists in the air as an excited Phoenix crowd hollers its approval. Pete then clasps his hands together and watches the stage, awaiting his opponent intently as his music fades out.


Next, a series of white flashing lights illuminate the stage. Kevin Coyote emerges, dressed in blue jeans and an unbuttoned blue jean jacket, worn over an SWF T-shirt with the slogan: "Turn Up the Volume." As he heads down the ramp, the speakers play "I'm Alive" by Disturbed.


Never again will I be dishonored

And never again will I be reminded

We're living within the world of the jaded

They killed inspiration

It's my obligation

To never again, allow this to happen

Where do I begin?

The choices are endless

Denying the sin

My art, my redemption

I carry the torch of my fathers before me


"And his opponent," announces Funyon, "from Brunswick, Georgia, weighing in at 225 pounds... KEVINNNNNN... COYOOOOTEEEEEEE!"


The thing I treasure most in life cannot be taken away

There will never be a reason why I will surrender to your advice

To change myself, I'd rather die

Lonely, we'll not understand

I will make the greatest sacrifice

You can't predict where the outcome lies

You'll never take me alive

I'm alive

I'm alive

I'm alive


Coyote climbs into the ring as his music fades out, removes his jacket and tosses it to the outside, then stands facing Longdogger Pete. The two stare intently at one another for a long moment, but do not square off just yet.


"And here we are!" shouts Comet. "These two have put it all on the line, and their very careers are at stake!"


Pete and Coyote stare each other down, sizing one another up. Both look angry, their emotions ready to boil over. And then it happens: Coyote throws a left hand punch at Pete, but Pete deflects the punch with his wrist, then counters with a hard right overhand punch, followed by another, then another.




"Here we go," says King. "So who do you suppose will still be standing at the end of this?"


The bell has rung to signify the official start of the match, but the two competitors are barely even aware of it, as they have already begun their assault on one another. Pete continues to pummel his son with hard rights, and Coyote puts his arms up in defense, doing his best to absorb the impact of Pete's mighty blows. With each blow absorbed Coyote takes a step back, until finally he gets pushed up against the ropes. Pete grabs Coyote by the right arm and wrenches him forward. Pete yanks as hard as he can on Coyote's arm, forcing Coyote to bend over, then Pete jumps up and connects with a scissor kick across Coyote's backside that sends Coyote tumbling to the canvas.


"Score one for the elder MacDougal," says Comet.


Coyote is quickly back to his feet, attacking the Miami Menace with an elbow smash, followed by a spinning wheel kick that catches Pete off guard, sending him stumbling off in the opposite direction, back turned to Coyote. Coyote jumps up and connects with a dropkick, sending Pete staggering into the ropes. As Pete holds onto the second rope for balance, Coyote runs toward the ropes and jumps atop Pete's back, clubbing him with a left fist across the back of Pete's neck. The ropes give just a little under the weight of the two men, then retract as Coyote completes the move and stands clear, springing Coyote's head upward where it collides with the top rope. That final insult doesn't hurt, but to Pete is a little disconcerting.


"Can we say 'ring rust?'" asks King.


"I wouldn't call it ring rust," replies Comet. "Pete has been training hard the last couple of weeks in preparation for this match. Kevin Coyote is simply outpacing LDP."


Sure enough, Coyote attempts to use speed as an advantage against the larger, physically imposing Longdogger Pete. Coyote leaps into the air as Pete stands back up, wrapping his legs around Pete's neck and pulling him down to the mat in a hurricanrana. Coyote reaches across Pete's body and covers him for a pinfall attempt. Referee Sexton Hardcastle dives down to the canvas to make the count.









Pete easily gets his shoulders into the air after the two count. Pete shoves Coyote out of the way and rises to get back to his feet. Coyote gets to his feet as well, but Pete is ready for him, and grabs Coyote by an arm, whipping him off to the ropes. Coyote bounces off the ropes and is propelled back toward Pete. Pete turns his back on Coyote, grabbing him from behind and hoisting him up to his shoulders, then dropping back to hit the canvas in a Samoan drop! Pete regains his footing, then executes a pair of angry stomps on Coyote's horizontal form before Coyote manages to roll out of the way. Coyote gets to his knees as Pete approaches again. Coyote raises his fist in an uppercut, attempting a low blow to Pete's groin, but Pete jumps back just in time and dodges the blow. Coyote gets to his feet and rushes at Pete, kicking high in the air in a spinning heel kick. Pete catches Coyote's foot, so Coyote tries instead for an enziguri attempt, clearing the mat entirely and kicking out with the other leg. Surprisingly, Pete catches that leg as well, and slams the hapless Coyote to the mat!


"Longdogger Denial!" hollers Comet. "Looks like LDP still has a few tricks up his sleeve."


"I don't understand," says King. "I thought Coyote could outrace LDP."


"Perhaps," concedes Comet, "but Pete is a wrestling veteran of almost twenty years! He's seen every trick in the book and knows how to counter them all!"


Pete goes for a cover on Coyote, and Sexton Hardcastle is ready once more with the count.









TH-- NO! Coyote kicks out before the count of three, and both men return to their feet. Coyote charges Pete again, and this time Pete grabs Coyote by both legs and flips him backward. Coyote's head hits the canvas with a satisfying SMACK, and Pete holds Coyote by the legs in position for a bridged pin attempt.









THR-- NO! Coyote manages to shift his position to get his shoulders off the mat. Pete lets go of Coyote's legs, allowing the remainder of Coyote's weight to drop to the canvas.


"Perfect Dark!" exclaims Cyclone Comet. "One of the most dangerous counters in LDP's arsenal!"


"He's using a lot of counters," notes King. "He's on defense mode. Coyote acts, Pete reacts. If Pete doesn't show some offense soon, this tactic is going to drain on him."


Coyote once again gets to a standing position, and then, almost as if he had received King's warning telepathically, Pete changes tactics. This time he is the one to charge Coyote, knocking him to the mat in a Lou Thesz press.


"And there's the Dogg Pound!" says Comet. "Pete is getting his licks in early in this street fight!"


Pete goes for another cover on Coyote.









THR-- NO! Coyote kicks out to break the cover. Both men get up again, and Coyote takes to the offense, charging Pete and spearing him clear through the ropes! Both men tumble out of the ring and drop off the apron to the floor below.


"Well, they've just taken this action to the outside," says King.


"But that's perfectly legal in this match!" reminds Comet. "Pinfalls can occur anywhere in the building under street fight rules!"


"Street fight rules? Which basically suggests that there are NO rules?" King inquires.


"That sums it up nicely," answers Comet.


As Pete crawls across the floor, attempting to get to his feet, the faster Coyote makes his way to the timekeeper's table and grabs a steel chair, quickly folding up the chair to a closed position.


"And there's the other positive side of a street fight match," says King. "Weapon use is legal, even encouraged!"


Coyote swings the chair at Pete's head, but Pete rolls out of the way of the chair shot attempt, ending up lying on his back side. Coyote swings again, and Pete deflects by kicking the chair away with his boots. The chair clatters across the floor, and the impact of the deflection knocks Coyote backward onto the floor. Pete gets to his feet, and makes a play for the chair, but Coyote kips up quickly and reaches for it too. For a moment there is a tug of war over the chair, but the stronger Pete yanks it out of Coyote's hands, and shoves the top of the chair into Coyote's gut. Coyote doubles over in pain, and Pete swings again, sending the flat side of the chair smashing across Coyote's back. Coyote drops to the floor, and Pete holds up the now bent and mangled chair. Pete frowns, and tosses the chair aside.


"You know what really sucks about that?" says Comet. "After that TLC match we just had, that was probably our last good chair!"


"There's about twenty thousand more behind us," says King dryly.


Pete stops abruptly as he hears the Phoenix audience chanting his name - a reaction he is no longer used to, and misses very much.


"L - D - P!"

"L - D - P!"

"L - D - P!"


"The big guy needs to show this kid who's boss!" says Comet.


Pete rolls Coyote over and covers him for a pinfall attempt.









THR-- NO! Coyote kicks out, then stretches on the floor, his back in visible pain from the chair shot.


Pete steps away from Coyote, eyeing the ring ropes and smiling. He walks back toward the ring and climbs up on the apron, then ascends to the top rope, turning to face Coyote on the outside. The crowd begins to roar as he raises his hand in the air, then extends his thumb and forefinger in an "L" position.


"What the hell's he doing?" asks King.


"It looks like he's going for an old fan favorite, the Longdogger Legdrop!" exclaims Comet.


"But to the outside? He's going to kill himself!"


With all the strength he can muster, Longdogger Pete bends his knees, then leaps from the top of the turnbuckle, diving toward Coyote with leg outstretched to perform his patented diving leg drop...


...and Coyote rolls out of the way!


"NO!" hollers Comet in shock, but the damage is done as Pete crashes to the floor, missing Coyote by only inches. For a long moment neither man moves. Coyote, still recovering from the two chair shots, is the first to stir. He crawls across the floor until he regains his footing, and then he retrieves the jean jacket he had originally tossed to the floor. He begins searching the pockets for something, but begins to get frustrated when he cannot find what he is looking for.


"What's he looking for?" asks Comet.


"I would imagine the brass knuckles he's been keeping in his jacket for weeks now," replies King. "The question is, where did they go?"


"That's anybody's guess," says Comet.


After finally giving up, Coyote angrily tosses the jacket away hard, flipping the article of clothing into the audience - probably not what Coyote intended, but certainly making one fan happy.


Coyote walks back toward Pete, still disgusted over the disappearance of the knuckles, and stands over Pete, connecting with a gut punch to Pete's horizontal form (which Pete doesn't react to) before dropping down for a cover.


"This could be it if Pete doesn't wake up," says Comet.












Suddenly out of nowhere, Pete comes to, and sends his right fist directly into Coyote's face! Coyote stumbles off Pete, and shockingly, blood begins to roll down Coyote's face as he backs away. Pete smiles as he sits up, revealing a set of shiny brass knuckles on his right hand.


"HE WAS PLAYING POSSUM!" exclaims Comet. "And somehow he had the knuckles!"


"That shifty bastard," says King. "I wonder when he managed to grab them."


"My God, what if Pete actually manages to win this?" asks Comet. "Does he really have the energy to resume a full time wrestling career?"


"The question is, who would you rather continue to see on the active roster?" asks King. "Longdogger Pete or Kevin Coyote?"


The question hangs there unanswered as Pete rises to his feet. Pete comes after Coyote, attempting one of his trademark hard rights with the knuckles in tow, but Coyote deflects and delivers a left hand punch of his own. Coyote staggers Pete back, then follows up with an uppercut across Pete's chin. Pete is momentarily stunned, and an enraged Coyote grabs Pete's right wrist and rips the knuckles off his hand. The knuckles are a bit too small for Pete's large fingers, and the sudden movement leaves red welts across Pete's hand. Pete jerks his fist back in surprise at the sudden pain, but seconds later, Coyote drops him to the floor again, taking his father out with a neckbreaker.


"And suddenly the One Man Wrecking Crew just looks... wrecked," says King.


A close up of Coyote's face shows the younger MacDougal covered in blood, but Coyote fights on despite the pain. He hesitates for a moment, then covers Pete right there on the floor.









THR-- NO! Somehow Pete manages to kick out. Coyote can scarcely believe it, but he keeps on going. Without allowing Pete a chance to get up, he wraps his arms around Pete's neck and locks in a sleeper hold.


"Well, this could be just as dangerous to the weakened LDP," says Comet. "If Pete submits or loses consciousness, it could mean his career!"


Pete struggles against the sleeper hold, trying to remain conscious as Coyote threatens to cut off his air. Pete flails his arms wildly in an attempt to gain a physical advantage, but he can't shake Coyote.


So instead, he stands up.


Standing at six foot six, Pete holds an impressive height advantage over Coyote, and he uses this advantage to the fullest, actually coming to a standing position and attempting to walk across the arena floor, carrying Coyote in tow on his back as the younger grappler continues to lock the sleeper in place. Coyote is resilient, and refuses to break the hold despite being dragged toward the metal ramp. As Pete reaches the bottom of the ramp, however, he spins around, and drops backward to plant Coyote firmly on his back across the hard metal ramp.


"That's one way to break a submission," says King.


Pete grabs Coyote by both arms and begins dragging him up toward the top of the ramp. As they reach the top, Coyote tries to get to his feet, but gets helped out by Pete, who yanks him up to a standing position on the stage base. Pete kicks Coyote in the midsection, and Coyote starts to double forward. Pete grabs Coyote's shoulders, obviously going for a Longdogger Clogger on the stage floor, but Coyote fights it off, kicking Pete suddenly in the groin and forcing the larger man back.


"Coyote manages to avoid Pete's primary finisher, the Clogger," says Comet.


Pete turns away, forced back from the kick to the groin, and a cocky Coyote suddenly grins, tapping Pete forcefully on the shoulder. When Pete doesn't respond right away, Coyote spins Pete around forcefully to face him, then extends an arm and levels Pete with a snap clothesline that knocks Pete down hard against the cold metal floor.


"And there's the Coyote Takedown!" hollers Comet.


"Now that's how it's done!" says King.


Coyote drops down atop Pete for what could be a match, no, a career ending cover!









NO! WAIT! What's this? Coyote withdraws from the cover attempt at the last second, sitting back up, much to the surprise of the announcers.


"What did he do that for?" asks Comet.


"I don't think he's through with LDP just yet," replies King.


Coyote stands again, staring down at the unconscious Longdogger Pete, but then looking to the entrance as if expecting something to happen.


And then it does.


Suddenly a loud techno beat begins to erupt from the speaker system. Though no one recognizes the music as the theme of anyone affiliated with the SWF, the song is "Chinese Burn" by Curve.


"The hell...?" someone asks - it's hard to tell whose voice it was with the loud music drowning them out.


A young woman with long, dark red hair emerges on the stage, wheeling out a dolly with several wooden tables stacked atop them. She has a maniacal glare in her eyes and a smug grin on her face, but she says nothing as she makes her entrance.


"Who the fuck is that?!" asks King.


"And where the hell did she get all those tables?" Comet wonders. "I thought we used them all up for the TLC match."


Nobody in the audience seems to recognize the woman, though they cheer for her anyway, as any new woman in the SWF is sure to be a Good Thing. The only person that seems to recognize her is Kevin Coyote -- and he motions for her to come closer.


"Could this be the mysterious woman from Kevin's cell phone?" asks King. "Could this be Avery?"


"Could she have bought those tables at Home Depot?" asks Comet.


The woman wheels the dolly closer, and Coyote stands up by the other end of the dolly. Together, the two of them give a mighty heave, and toss the entire dolly, tables and all, off the side of the stage, letting the tables crash to the floor below. Many of the tables break into pieces, but that seems to be Coyote and his girlfriend's intent. Coyote motions for his new partner to go back to the entranceway, and she does, disappearing behind the curtain, but just for a moment, only going back to retrieve an object that she returns with now, apparently a large can of liquid of some sort...


"Lighter fluid!" shouts Comet. "My God, King, what are they planning?"


Cackling as she does so, the woman opens the can and holds it over the side of the stage, pouring out its contents all over the pile of table fragments. Then without hesitation, she lights up a match, and tosses it casually aside.


BOOM! The tables go up in flames as a blaze of fire shoots across the floor, burning up the lighter fluid. Coyote's partner raises her arms in the air as she watches the flames rise from the floor.


"HAH!" shouts an excited Suicide King. "Well, you people wanted From the Fire! And now you've got it!"


"This is too much!" says Comet. "Even for Coyote, I think!"


Coyote tries to pull Pete back up to a standing position. Pete gets to his knees and suddenly comes to with a start, sensing his surroundings and shoving Coyote away to prevent the inevitable. The camera closes up again on Kevin Coyote, bruised and bleeding, and a fierce look of determination on his face. He charges at Pete at full speed, throwing all caution to the wind, and leaps into the air, tackling Pete in a running cross body. The move is more than enough to topple Pete's precarious balance, and both men tumble off the stage, collapsing into the inferno below.




The audience is stunned into dead silence, except for a few rows close to the melee, that break out into a rousing and uncensored chant!






Referee Sexton Hardcastle tries to get close to the flames to see if he can pick out the two competitors. When he does so, he quickly gets on the floor -- but not too close -- to make a count.














"Well, the match is over!" says Comet. "But who won? And is anyone left alive in there?"


Sexton Hardcastle quickly hurries to the timekeeper's table to tell Funyon the results of the match. Immediately new music begins playing through the arena -- ironically, the metal sounds of Disturbed's "I'm Alive."




The woman on the stage jumps up and down in delight, then quickly backs off behind the curtain before anyone can get to her. Meanwhile, Hardcastle calls to the back for help, and several road agents quickly emerge, followed by several medics. One of the road agents carries a fire extinguisher and sets to work putting out the blaze as the medics prepare a pair of flatbeds.


"Oh, dear," mutters King. "It looks like both competitors are going to be carried out of here by the EMTs."


"I certainly hope they're all right," says Comet. "But the match is over, and the victor is Kevin Coyote, who put everything on the line tonight -- his blood, his energy, his body, everything -- and defeated his own father, Longdogger Pete."


"And that means Longdogger Pete's career is now over!" exclaims King. "So congratulations, everyone! You'll never have to hear the word 'bid'ness' again!"


"Folks, we'll try to get you an update on the medical conditions of Kevin Coyote and Longdogger Pete as soon as possible," assures Comet. "In the meantime, we have a main event to prepare for! The show must go on, as they say, and if you thought this match was explosive, we've got another huge match coming up as El Luchadore Magnifico puts his SWF World Heavyweight Title on the line against the winner of the 2006 Clusterfuck, Wes Davenport!"


"It's a sure classic in the making," agrees King, "so don't go anywhere, because that match is NEXT!"


Mercifully, the camera fades to black, shielding the viewers' eyes from any more needless carnage.

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The events that have just transpired still have the crowd stunned, in fact, the entire night have been emotionally draining, with epic matches left and right, but with still one to go. The American West arena is packed to the rafters with loyal SWF fans, but even they must hold up the white flag…




“Ladies and Gentlemen,” booms Funyon from the centre of the ring, bring the audience back to reality. “the following contest is scheduled for one fall, and it is for the SWF WORLD HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPIONSHIP!”


Suddenly, the whole arena begins to buzz once again as zero hour approaches and the fans cheer as if it were the opening bout all over again! These cheers reach deafening levels as through the P.A they hear the unmistakable sounds of OK Go, as hands start clapping and feet start stamping—


“A lot of knots, a lot of snags! A Lot of holes, a lot of cracks, a lot of crags!”


--A spotlight suddenly shines down on the entranceway—


“A lot of naggin’ old hags, a lot of fools, a lot of full scumbags!”


--and Wes Davenport strides out from behind the curtain, proudly stepping into the light and raising his arms into the air as a literal rainbow of pyro, blue, red, green black, explodes at either side of the stage! The flashy spectacle ignites the crowd as they continue to cheer for Wes as he walks down the ramp way, “Get Over It” playing behind him as always.


“Well, folks, the time is now upon us,” Comet begins, “where two men will enter that ring, but only one will leave as the World Heavyweight Champion!”


“And what an exciting match up it promises to be!” King responds with glee, although his attitude soon sours. “Or, it would have been, if an actual wrestler had won the Clusterf*ck.”


“Introducing first,” Funyon begins, clearing his throat, “from Hollywood, California, he weighs in at 259 pounds… please welcome, the winner of the 2006 Clusterfuck and number one contender to the World Heavyweight title… he is WES DAAAAVVVEEEEENNNNNNNPOOOOORRRRT!”


“I still can’t believe you think that!” Comet fires back in an uproar. “Davenport has been on an unbelievable streak since joining our fair federation, and I don’t believe it’s going to stop now!”


“Oh, you don’t think so? Let’s recap, shall we?” says King as the Superhero lets out a long sigh. “His first win was against Matt Myers, so that doesn’t even count. Fast forward to where he somehow wins the Clusterfuck, thanks to 19 other men doing ALL the work, and then we’ll skip to last week, where he was carried in his tag match against Hawke and Magnifico by Wildchild! Face it, freak, he doesn’t stand a chance without help.”


“I’ll admit he’s still a little rough around the edges…” replies Comet, trying to defend the man who steps into the ring, acknowledging the crowd with kisses instead of warming up for the biggest match of his career.


“Rough around the edges?” scoffs King. “Comet, he wouldn’t know a Leglock from Wedlock.”


“Well, both ARE extremely painful…”


“Of course, but the simple fact is, Magnifico is a world class wrestler, and Davenport is a B-Grade actor, and a D-Grade wrestler. The result is in books already as far as I’m concerned, and its obvious Magnifico feels the same way.”


As if on cue, the arena is suddenly bathed in darkness, and the jubilation ceases straight away as almost every fan in the American West Arena begins to jeer with venom…









“And speak of the devil, here he is,” King proudly proclaims as the now infamous sounds of Atake FDD’s “Tu Final” blares through the speakers, causing the boo’s to only intensify in both volume and spite! As the smoke clears from the pyro, the fans catch sight of the World Champion, his title belt shimmering under the house lights as the same spotlight Wes was under shines on ELM, causing the actor to frown. He suddenly thrusts his Mexican Flag high into the air before storming down the ramp way.


“And, his opponent…” Funyon cries, “From Mexico City! He weighs in at 210 pounds… please welcome YOUR record breaking World Heavyweight Champion… EL LUCHADOOOOOOOOOOOORE MAAAAAAAAAAGNIFICOOOOOOOOOO!”


“Devil is correct,” Comet glumly states. “Magnifico has been nothing short of a villain since taking that World Title, treating his fellow wrestlers with nothing but disrespect, including the one’s he enlisted to help in his aid!”


“BUT,” King counters, “if there’s one man in the federation right now that can proudly flaunt his success, it’s Magnifico. He’s beaten all comers, including men like Jay Hawke and JJ Johnson, and look where they are now.”


“Hawke’s a record breaking International Champion and a—“


“Yeah, ok, but what about the other guy?”


“JJ Johnson has… strangely disappeared,” Comet replies with a hint of worriment.


“Precisely, and that’s exactly what Magnifico will do to Davenport here tonight,” boasts King, squinting angrily at the actor turned wrestler. “He’ll show Davenport up for the moron that he truly is and send him from the fed in disgrace.”


The reception for the World Champion is none too kind, but to Magnifico it matters little. He pats his World Title while snubbing the fans at ringside, shooing them away with his flag. Davenport’s heart suddenly sinks as he catches sight of his opponent, and his self-esteem takes a dive.


“I wouldn’t be so sure my cocksure friend,” Comet responds. “These two have hardly interacted over the past month, simply because Magnifico thinks Davenport isn’t worth his time! But if I know my fellow actor, he wouldn’t let the Luchadore get away with such disrespect!”


As Magnifico steps into the squared circle, handing his title to referee Placeholder, the official in charge, Davenport looks as white as a sheet. He suddenly realizes the task before him, and the caliber of man he has to face. Magnifico, on the other hand, pays little attention to his opponent and all his attention to a hottie in the third row.


“We’re just about set to begin,” informs Comet. “These two men have both come into this match with a clean bill of health, so I expect this to be a desperate slog, with neither man wanting to give an inch! It sure won’t be pretty, folks!”


“Much like Wes’ last few movies,” King says with a snicker as Placeholder hands the World Title to the timekeeper carefully per Magnifico’s instructions, before calling for the bell!




With the bell run, and the match officially underway, the fans expect an absolute frenetic pace and chaotic action to fill the ring! Their hopes are dashed however, as neither man moves from their corner. Magnifico seems totally nonchalant, examining his cuticles and pondering where he’ll celebrate his victory tonight- at a club, perhaps, or maybe his penthouse suite?


On the opposite side of the ring, Davenport looks dead ahead, suddenly frozen in time. He’d imagined a sweet victory tonight, but now that he’s in the ring, the gravity of the situation suddenly dawns on him. The Luchadore’s behavior has him completely off-guard and doubting himself yet again, but he’s suddenly brought back to reality as…








…his fans, his support net, suddenly break into unanimous chanting!








“All of these fine people are eager to see justice prevail this evening,” Comet announces, as the chant continues unabated, much to his pleasure, “and see our fine World Title around the waist of someone we can truly be proud of!”


“I guess they’ll have to wait until I finally make my return,” retorts King, smirking delightfully. “Don’t fool yourself, Comet, Davenport is afraid of what’s to come. Much like his movie career, he’s going down in flames tonight, and the sooner you realize--“


But before King can launch into yet another anti-Davenport tirade, the man himself suddenly comes to life, charging across the squared circle with all haste, and intent in his eyes!




… but the reenergized actor suddenly has his power cut in violent fashion as Magnifico hits him with a standing dropkick, right to the jaw! “Wes is going to make a fool of himself if he doesn’t give up now,” King proudly boasts as Magnifico quickly moves into a cover, with referee Placeholder right there on the scene!









TWO - but only a two count is reached before Davenport powers out! Magnifico, though slightly concerned at Wes’ powerful show of defiance, continues his assault on the actor, albeit in casual fashion. Lifting Davenport to his feet, the Mexican shoots him into the ropes, and on Wes’ return, drops to the canvas in a flash, taking Wes down with a Drop Toe Hold, while locking in a Crossface at the same time! A muted gasp is heard from the crowd as Davenport hits the mat, and Magnifico tries to lock in the Sangria Stretch! “That’s it, it’s all over,” says King, already getting up from his seat. “This time I get the window seat, Comet.”


… But King may have been a tad hasty in his forecast, because as soon as the World Champion has the hold locked on, Davenport suddenly pushes throws all his weight forward, breaking the hold through sheer power! The fans voice their delighted approval, much to the Champion’s distaste as he retreats-but only temporarily. “Well, well,” says the Superhero as King slinks back into his seat, “the man you incessantly call an inept buffoon, Wes Davenport, counters Magnifico’s hold with ease!”


“Hey…” King answers, genuinely offended. “I never said inept buffoon, I said freaking moron.”


“Nevertheless,” continues Comet, leering at King, “the nefarious Magnifico thought he could get a quick and decisive victory in so little time, but was foiled by Wes, who proves to be full of surprises!”


“He’s full of something all right,” mutters King, as back in the ring, Davenport climbs back to his feet, ready to receive the love from the crowd… but receives nothing more than a jabbing forearm from his Luchadore opponent! Repeated blows back Davenport into the ropes, the actor dazed as Magnifico fires him into the opposite strands. As Davenport returns, Magnifico springs from the mat and onto the hulking shoulders of the actor, attempting to drag Davenport neck first to the canvas! Once again, the actor holds firm and stops Magnifico mid-move through sheer strength, letting the Mexican dangle from his shoulders! Wanting to send an emphatic message, Davenport hoists Magnifico’s torso back up in preparation for a Powerbomb-NO! The Champion is too cunning and falls down the back of the challenger to the canvas, putting him off balance and yanking him down to the mat by the waist, rolling him up!










TWO-Kick out! Davenport shabbily somersaults away from Magnifico’s pinning attempt and back onto his feet, rushing forward to take Magnifico’s legs in both arms, flipping over into a bridged position, pinning the champion again! “Stunning counter,” Comet cries, “he may just shock the world with this simple maneuver!”








TWO-No! Wes only gets a two count as the Luchadore shoots an arm off the canvas, breaking Davenport’s hold, much to the Mexican’s relief. “Humph,” grunts King, “these flashes of ring know-how won’t deliver Davenport victory this time.”


As both men climb to their feet, a little winded but relatively unscathed, the crowd roar behind them, rallying behind Davenport. The two men gaze through the crowd, but only one is left captivated by the spectacle, while the other shoots forward suddenly--




--as Magnifico let’s fly with a Knife-Edge chop! The fans refuse to react with the customary ‘Woo’s’ and answer with only ‘Boo’s’ as Magnifico hits another, followed by another, followed by ANOTHER! Finding himself backed into a corner, Wes tries to retaliate with a right hand, but Magnifico easily ducks underneath the wild blow, and fires his shoulder right into Davenport’s ribcage! A few more charges have Davenport groaning, and Magnifico smiling deviously as he sends Wes into the opposite corner with an Irish Whip.


The actor hits with a loud thump, and an audible curse as Magnifico follows after him in close pursuit, leaping into the air, planting his feet into Davenport’s chest and grabbing him by the back of the head! “Magnifico Monkey Flip coming up!” shouts King, but he and Magnifico are both stunned to find Davenport counter, wrapping his arms around the champion and turning around, placing him on the top turnbuckle! The challenger fires a right hand towards the Luchadore, but Magnifico swats him away with a kick to the jaw, and when Davenport tries again, he gets another for his trouble! The actor rubs his jaw, but is determined to come around for a third pass-only for Magnifico to grab him around the neck, push off the turnbuckles, spin, and plant Davenport with a Tornado DDT!


“Curses!” shouts Comet. “Magnifico finally gets one up on our dear Davenport, and the actor’s title aspirations may be dashed!”


“Davenport only delayed the inevitable, Comet. He showed some spark, I’ll give him that,” King answers, with all the false adulation in the world, “but he just can’t cut it at this level.” With those words, Placeholder slides across the mat as Magnifico grinds his forearm into Davenport’s face, which he takes great pleasure from doing.









TWO-KICKOUT! “Don’t speak so soon my friend,” Comet happily replies, showing a toothy grin to King, “Davenport may be taken lightly by some, including our World Champion himself, but I just know that if given his shot, he’ll make the most of it!” Despite Comet’s hopeful reassurance, things look grim for the former B-movie actor as he crawls towards the turnbuckles, pulling himself onto his feet Magnifico just shakes his head, letting the whole crowd know what he thinks of Wes as he approaches the actor, hitting him with few lazy punches, before propelling him across the ring. Magnifico follows close behind Wes as he nears the turnbuckles, but suddenly throws his arms out, stopping dead in his tracks! Before the Luchadore can even react, Davenport sends a mule kick right into his breadbasket! “Low blow ref, low blow!” cries King in protest, but to no avail as Wes turns back around to meet his foe, hitting him with a right hand! The crowd finds their voice again as the actor sends decapitating European Uppercuts at Magnifico, displaying his brutish strength before whipping Magnifico into the ropes for a little revenge. “If Davenport can get on a roll,” Comet begins as Magnifico bounces back from the ropes, “he could keep Magnifico down for good! We’ve seen how he can defeat an opponent with only a few high impact maneuvers!”


With this in the forefront of his mind, Davenport sweeps Magnifico off his feet, spinning him around in a tilt-a-whirl, but Magnifico slips free from his grasp in mid-flight! The Mexican is able to land safely on his feet, but Davenport grabs him only a split-second later, trying to take him over with a hasty Hip Toss, but Magnifico escapes at the last moment like he always does, finding his feet once again! Davenport, frustrated and very possibly frightened, tries to knock the Champion’s head clear off with a clothesline, but Magnifico almost scoffs as he expertly ducks beneath and sends a rising knee lift into Davenport’s stomach! “When will he learn…” King mocks as Davenport is doubled over, Magnifico latches onto him, quickly taking him over with a Snap Suplex!


“Lady Luck just isn’t favoring Davenport tonight,” King reports civilly, until he follows with, “and it’s exposing his massive, giant, glaring weaknesses and just general lack of talent.” Magnifico quickly hooks his opponent by the leg, Placeholder there to count straight away…









TWO! NO! “Davenport kicks out!” Comet gleefully replies. “He may not be the most polished wrestler, or make the right decision… much of the time, he still has heart and determination, and not to mention the support of the entire SWF fan base at his back!”


On cue, the crowd cheers at the top of their lungs, willing Davenport on as he crawls away, a little worse for wear, his pride hit most. Magnifico yawns as he asks Placeholder for a 3 count, but the referee states that it actually has to be a 3 count before a 3 count can be awarded. The Champion just shrugs; thinking 5 more minutes isn’t too long to wait after all.


The champion leans down to pick Davenport up, boasting, “Your wasting my fucking time, you know that? Just lie down, accept your fate, and you’ll be back to making shitty made for TV movies in no time.”


The Mexican brings Wes to a vertical base and… leaves him there, opting to stand back and hold up his fingers, making sure to frame Davenport perfectly. “Now this is just unacceptable, I won’t stand for it!” cries Comet in an outrage, while King just giggles. “Magnifico better watch out, or his repeated showboating and lack of respect will be his downfall, he has to concentrate or--”


“Oh please, Comet, don’t get your cape in a knot,” King replies. “Magnifico has had Davenport’s number at every turn, bar a fluke or two. Right now, he’s just prolonging the end and giving these people there money’s worth, because that’s the kind of champion he is.”


Satisfied he has the shot he wants, Magnifico steps forward and… stamps on Davenport’s foot! Then to add insult to injury, the Luchadore pokes him in the eyes, sending the actor stumbling away with a yelp! Placeholder gets in Magnifico’s face, but the Mexican just brushes past him, feeling like he could do just about anything right now…






… That is, until a Standing Side Kick from Wes Davenport knocks the taste right out of his mouth! “Das Boot, Das Boot!” Comet incessantly yells. “Our diligent Davenport scores with the equalizer, but now he just has to follow up!”


“Hey, you’re not calling people Citizen’s anymore.”


“When did I ever?” Magnifico wobbles back and forth, but won’t fall down! The Mexican simply rubs his jaw and darts right back towards the frustrating actor, who dodges to the side, takes him by the arm and flings Magnifico across the ring with an Arm Drag! The simple maneuver won’t keep Magnifico away for long, but it gives the crowd a little hope as the Luchadore grunts, the actor’s show of defiance starting to get on his nerves. The crowd’s cheers suddenly lift in intensity, which cause Magnifico to spit in the general direction of the tens of thousands of fans… but the momentary distraction gives Wes a small window which he exploits, rushing forward and crashing into the World Champion with a clothesline! Magnifico whirls back to his feet, but loses his way and walks right into another Davenport clothesline!


With his brains ever so slightly scrambled, Magnifico is on the back foot for the first time, backing himself into a corner. The lumbering actor steps forward and—






--let’s fly with a European uppercut! Several more follow, each hitting harder than the last, as the reception from the crowd each gets grows! “There’s nothing pretty about this match, King, that’s for sure,” Comet says, “just two guys, one big and one small, beating the holy heck out of each other!” The aforementioned big guy continues to wail on the small guy, before whipping him across the thing with thundering speed, sending him smacking into the turnbuckles back first and rebound back from the sheer impact! Davenport shoots a kick forward, connecting with Magnifico and doubling him over as Wes lifts the Champion high into the air, holding him completely vertical for all the fans to see! This time, it’s Davenport’s foolishness that allows Magnifico to slip out the back door, reach down, and pin Davenport’s shoulders to the mat with a School Boy!



















THR-NO! “Only two!” yells Comet, feeling he has to reiterate that as Davenport scurries to his feet, panicked by the sudden counter that he does something rash, firing off another Standing Side Kick, but this time, Magnifico has it scouted and Davenport’s boot flies just mere inches past Magnifico’s head as he dodges! Wes stumbles forward, losing his composure suddenly as he spins back around with another clothesline, but Magnifico has Davenport figured out, and ducks it easily, opening the way for ELM to grab Davenport under the arm and over the throat, using every ounce of strength to lift his feet off the mat, pivot around and—






--plant Davenport with the… “Rio Grande Slam!” cries King in orgasmic fashion as Magnifico breathes a small sigh of relief, but doesn’t let it show as he physically dust himself off, showing disdain for Davenport much to the crowd’s anger as he throws himself on the actor’s chest. “Lifting up a man the size of Davenport is quite a feat, but our champ can do anything!”

















THR-SHOULDER UP! “But what he can’t do, is put our Davenport away!” replies Comet with renewed hope as Davenport rolls out to the canvas, finding solace as he clutches the bottom rope as if it were an Oscar. “What do you mean ‘our’ Davenport? This idiot is only out for himself! He feeds off the fans, he needs them to spur him on, but couldn’t care less about them when all is said and done. Granted, neither could I, but at least I have a little thing called talent and skill to fall back on.”


“And which talents are they? How to most effectively hit your opponent in the nether regions?” Comet responds as King glares at him with a cold stare. With Davenport’s futile efforts stifled again, Magnifico takes his time, waiting for his opponent to move, knowing he can’t depend on the safety the ropes grant him for long. While the crowd boos mercilessly in the background, the World Champion simply grins, feeling unstoppable as his larger foe hauls his sorry carcass off the canvas. Suddenly, Magnifico takes an aggressive stance, with one foot forward, as if he intends to charge across the ring and run head first into the battle-worn actor!


The crowd, for a solitary moment, begins to cheer; perhaps thinking Magnifico wants to put on a spectacular show again! But as soon as the Mexican approaches the ropes, and a swaying Davenport, he stops dead, and shakes his head to the fans!




“Ha-HA!” laughs King, despite being the only one in the entire arena. “Magnifico’s just toying with Davenport and the fans at this point and rightfully so. Davenport’s a fool if he ever thought he could compete against the Champion, and the fans are fools for believing in him.”


The Mexican Champion salutes his flag perched in the turnbuckles before nailing Wes with a flurry of right hands, staggering him even more. Satisfied with his work, ELM throws Wes’ arm over his shoulder and takes a tight grip on his belt! “And now Magnifico will prove that his opponent’s can be any size, and he’ll still match them!” gushes King as Magnifico takes a deep breath before heaving Wes up… but the actor holds firm! Magnifico tries again, but only gets the same result! Annoyed and eager to get out of Phoenix as soon as possible, Magnifico sends a few stiff shots into Davenport’s kidneys, softening him up, allowing him to lift him up… and over the top rope!


… But Wes skins the cat, and breaks free from Magnifico, landing behind him! Almost instantly, Davenport grabs Magnifico by the waist, attempting to yank him off the canvas with a German Suplex, but Magnifico thinks fast, grabbing onto the top rope in front of him and blocking Wes’ best efforts. Davenport keeps trying until Magnifico swats the actor away with a few well-aimed back elbows, catching Wes on the nose. As he stumbles backward, a slight trickle of blood escaping, Magnifico grabs hold of the top rope and springs into the air, kicking his legs out and placing them on Davenport’s shoulders!


The ropes violently shimmer and shake as Magnifico starts to yank on them, building some momentum as he prepares to send Davenport through the ropes with a head scissors, but Wes denies him by grabbing his legs and throwing him HIGH into the air and sailing over the top rope! Just as the actor thinks he’s in the clear and wipes the sweat from his brow, he hears the thud of feet on canvas, and turns around to find ELM standing on the apron, safe and sound! Magnifico suddenly leaps up onto the top rope, balancing perfectly and springing off with ease, landing on Wes’ shoulders and flipping him over with a Hurricanrana! A torrent of jeers rain down on Magnifico, but he cares little as Davenport skids away and he scurries after the actor, hooking him by the leg!























THRRRREEE-KICK OUT! ELM, slightly out of breath, glares up at referee Placeholder, who swallows hard but insists it was only a two count. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” is all ELM says as he gets to his feet, seemingly bored of it all, barely noticing Davenport has crawled to the opposite corner, picking himself up off the mat. The Champion charges across the ring with blistering pace, his crosshairs set on Davenport as he throws his whole body forward with a spear… that misses, and the momentum sends Magnifico’s shoulder straight into the ring post! The bone crunching impact only serves to excite the crowd as they cheer, their enthusiasm returning as they chant--






--and the actor hears it, even if he’s still groggy. ELM, for once, is the one moaning in pain as he is suddenly spun around and shoved between Davenport’s legs! Magnifico is hoisted high into the air, on top of Davenport’s shoulders as the crowd rise from their seats! Magnifico tries to fight back, firing a string of forearm blows to the top of his head, causing Wes to stagger, but the Mexican’s efforts are for naught as—








--Davenport throws Magnifico off his shoulders and down to the canvas, right on the point of his shoulder! “Fantastic work!” Comet gushes, getting on King’s nerves. “Davenport got his first SWF win with just the same combination, and he may just win his first World Title with it too!”


The actor keeps hold of Magnifico, though the constant blows to the head make it hard to do so. Placeholder slides over as quick as he can as he counts—













TWO-NO! Magnifico pushes out with his powerful legs at a two count, causing Davenport to almost whimper to himself! “Do you really think Magnifico would go down that easily?” scoffs King. “Better men have tried and failed, and so will Davenport, no matter how powerful he may be.”


“But he’s given himself another chance,” counters Comet. “The vile Luchadore has dominated, I’ll admit, but it shows something about Wes’ character and strength of will that he won’t go down, even if things seem hopeless!”


Davenport crawls away on all fours, shaking his head repeatedly, wondering how he got into this position in the first place and why everything has to be so damn hard. Magnifico crawls in the opposite direction, shaking his arm to get the feeling back, knowing this is only a temporary set back. As the two men climb back to their feet respectively, they turn to meet each other. Magnifico can sense Davenport’s weakness and just smiles at the actor coyly. Wes, lost and confused, does the first thing that comes to mind… which is to charge!


The crowd reaches a fever pitch as Davenport steps forward and slams his bicep against ELM’s jaw with a European Uppercut, before staggering him with a couple more, taking the fight to the World Champion. The actor takes ELM by the arm and almost pulls it from its socket as he whips the Mexican into the strands, waiting in ambush for his return. The actor ducks his head, but it proves to be too soon as Magnifico telegraphs it and counters with a rising kick to the face! Davenport fears for his beautiful features while Magnifico immediately grabs Wes’ left arm, twisting it around and locking in a Chickenwing! ELM clutches Davenport’s head with his free arm as Comet cries, “its Montezuma’s Revenge!” But sensing the imminent threat, Davenport finally forgets about his own aesthetics and head butts Magnifico! The Champion tries to keep hold, but Wes skull smashes against his forehead, which is even too much for Magnifico to handle!


As ELM turns and stumbles, Davenport snatches him up, grabbing his neck and legs, ducking his head and lifting Magnifico up onto his shoulders with a Torture Rack! Cheers break out as Davenport is about to put Magnifico through hell, but the Mexican has no desire for that, and kicks and flays about wildly! Just as it seems he might just escape, Davenport thinks on his feet and lifts Magnifico off his shoulders, dropping him head first onto his knee! As various lumps develop on ELM’s cranium and his vision blurs, Davenport grabs him around the neck, falling to the mat and drilling Magnifico’s head into the canvas! The Champion stares up at the arena lights, refusing to believe what’s happening, but reality hits him as Davenport falls on his chest, grinding his forearm into Magnifico’s face!



























THHHRRRRREEEE-SHOULDER UP! “Well, it’s not such a wonderful DDT after all,” mocks King as Davenport crawls away from the wreckage. “If this is the best offense Davenport can muster, then he doesn’t have a hope in hell!”


The actor struggles to his feet, but hearing the fans receive him so warmly inspires him to soldier on. Davenport reaches down and grabs Magnifico by the arm, yanking the Mexican onto his feet, before pulling him in close and hitting a knee lift to his stomach! Keeping hold of the arm, Davenport shoves it underneath ELM and between his legs, before pulling back on his opposite arm! Wes says a little prayer before hoisting Magnifico into the air in the Pumphandle position, lifting him onto his shoulder! But before he can plant ELM into the canvas, the Mexican squirms, causing Davenport to fall off balance! The actor stumbles into the ropes behind him, allowing ELM to land on the apron without harm. As Davenport turns back around to meet him, Magnifico ducks between the ropes and shoots forward, catching Wes in the ribcage. With the actor doubled over, Magnifico springs over the ropes and over the man himself, grabbing him by the legs and pulling him down with a Sunset Flip… No! Davenport holds fast, digging in as he reaches down to pummel the Champion, but the crafty cockroach slinks through his legs and Davenport hits nothing but canvas!


Frustrated, the actor swings wildly with a right hand, but Magnifico catches him in the ribs with another shoulder charge. Magnifico acts as quickly as possible, grabbing Davenport’s neck with one arm, his leg with the other and hopping once before pulling him upward and…










… Planting him on the back of his head with a Fisherman Buster!




“And the Barrio Buster has Davenport done and dusted!” King smirks, showing Comet’s not the only one with alliteration skills. “The awesome leverage Magnifico has just shows why he’s on top of the mountain right now. He could be stymied by his physical limitations, but he works around them and-“


“Darn it King, put a sock in it!” Comet shouts, much to everyone’s surprise. “Magnifico is a great wrestler, we all know that! I’m just so tired of hearing about him, and it breaks my heart to see such a man hold our World Title! Even if Davenport fails, someone else will be there to right the wrongs!”


Davenport lies flat on his back, his eyes closed and his mind seemingly gone wandering. Magnifico runs a hand through his hair, looking down at his palm to find it smeared with blood. The Champion grunts as he spits in Davenport’s face before hooking him by the leg, the end only three seconds away…










































… But Davenport kicks out at the last possible second to a massive wave of delirious cheers!








“… But it may not yet come to that!” Comet cries happily. “By Zeus, Davenport just refuses to lie down! He’s not just a mere actor anymore King!”


“He’s a damn fool is what he is,” King fires back. “He’s survived, somehow, but he hasn’t proved to me that he can win. Sooner or later, it will all come to an end.”


The fans refuse to listen to King, as usual, and still cheer their hearts out. The Luchadore Champion pulls himself to his feet, still not impressed with Davenport in the slightest. ELM grabs Davenport by the hair and forces him to his feet, leaving the beaten and bloodied actor stooped over, a defeated man. Magnifico grins as he fires off a forearm shot, looking to the crowd to see their reaction.




Magnifico scoffs as he fires off another shot, and another! He decides to end it now as he takes Davenport by the hand and whips him into the strands, licking his lips as the actor returns in shaky fashion. Magnifico suddenly drops to the canvas in a flash, taking Wes down with a picture perfect Drop Toe Hold, while locking in a Crossface at the exact same time! A muted gasp is heard from the crowd as Davenport hits the mat, and Magnifico attempts to lock in the dreaded Sangria Stretch!


“YES!” cries King as every fan in the arena rises from their seats, knowing that the end is near for Davenport. “Magnifico, INSULTED by the mere presence of an actor in his ring, will humiliate him in front of the entire world by making the bastard tap! It’s perfect; I can’t imagine a better ending.”


Magnifico takes his time applying the move, making sure Davenport’s left leg is snared between his ankles’s as he leans forward, his fingers almost touching as he wrenches back on Davenport’s neck. The crowd do all they can to inspire Davenport—








--but their best efforts are to no avail as the World Champion’s hands finally clasp together, and the hold is locked in tight as Davenport flails about like a madman, the pain simply excruciating!


“This cannot be!” replies an almost grief-stricken Comet, overacting almost as much as Wes as he writhes about in pain on the canvas. “Another favorite is about to fall to the malicious Mexican, the loathsome Luchadore, the—“


“Pipe down, freak, I want to enjoy this moment!” King shouts as his partner shakes his head, watching Davenport cry out in pain and moan through the agony like in many of his movies, but this isn’t any movie, and the pain he suffers through is real. Magnifico takes great delight in this as a broad smile appears on his face, giving Wes friendly words of advice, namely to “Give the fuck up” as referee Placeholder drops to the mat, mere inches from Davenport’s face, asking him if he’ll submit.








Despite the spit smattering across his face, and the pain shooting through his body, Davenport grits his teeth and bears it. “I’m surprised,” King smugly admits, “I thought Davenport would have given up the second Magnifico locked in the hold, but I guess even B-Movie hacks have their pride, huh?“


Suddenly, Placeholder scurries away as Davenport plants both of his big, sweaty palms into the canvas. Magnifico looks surprised, but takes it as a sign that he’ll no doubt give up soon, but much to his shock, Wes pushes his right leg off the mat, cringing as Magnifico tightens his hold on his left. With a show of strength, he pushes off the canvas with his right hand and left leg, leaving his left hand firmly planted against the canvas. “… What the hell—“


With little warning, Davenport suddenly pushes himself off the mat and rolls out to the side with Magnifico STILL clinging on! The plucky Mexican, the hold still applied, finds Davenport hurl body on top of his, arching his back and pressing his weight down on Magnifico’s shoulders as Placeholder slides over for the count, the crowd still dumbstruck-








Shocked he’s in such a position, Magnifico lets go of Davenport’s neck…




















… But this only causes Davenport to fall on top of Magnifico, his dead weight collapsing against his chest…










…Magnifico tries desperately to pry his shoulder loose…









THHHRRRRRREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!! The crowd can scarcely believe their eyes as Magnifico shoots his arm into the air, but it’s too late! Referee Placeholder, shocked himself, remembers his duties as he springs to his feet and calls for the bell!














King’s jaw drops. “What… just happened?”



The crowd’s jubilation is overwhelming as Funyon grabs his mic, proudly announcing, “Here is your winner… and the… NEW! S-W-F World Heavyweight Champion… WES DAAAAVVVVEEEEEENNNNNNPPOOOORRRRRT!”


“It’s over! Wes did it!” Comet deliriously cries as Davenport rolls out to the side and falls in a big heap on the concrete floor outside as “Get Over It” begins to blare through the speakers! Magnifico sits up, looking all around him and finding the crowd in a frenzy! The realization finally sinks in as Placeholder takes the World Title all the way around the ring and handing it to Wes Davenport as he wearily climbs onto his feet. Neither Magnifico, nor Wes himself, can believe what just happened.


“Oh no…” King mutters as Comet leans over with a huge, satisfied grin on his dial. “Don’t you start—“


“Finding it a little hard to believe my friend?” responds Comet, remembering King’s smug spiel at the conclusion of the last Pay Per View. “I guess I’ll explain it to you!”




“You see,“ begins Comet, “Magnifico seemingly had the match won. With Davenport locked in the Sangria Stretch, who wouldn’t believe that? But our Davenport pulled yet another crafty veteran maneuver out of his hat, those so-called “flukes” of yours, and countered just as Magnifico did at the Clusterfeck against JJ Johnson, reversing the submission into a pin! With Magnifico’s giant ego, he could never in his wildest dreams think that Wes would pull off such a counter!”


“But believe it or not,” continues the Superhero as Davenport looks down at his newly won gold, a wave of satisfaction and joy overcoming him, “that man did what no one else could, and is our new World Champion!”


“This is a nightmare, it has to be,” King replies, watching Davenport slowly raise the title above his head to the sheer delight of the fans, “Hit me, Comet, wake me the hell up!”


A loud superhero slap is heard, followed by a high-pitched kingly yelp as Magnifico stamps across the squared circle, the incensed Mexican leaning over the ropes and cursing a blue streak at both the referee and Davenport, and doesn’t stop until Wes reaches the top of the stage. Davenport pivots around, but completely ignores his defeated opponent; instead, he gazes out at the sea of screaming fans, holding his newly won title aloft for all to see!


“Look at him, I bet he feels on top of the world,” remarks King, a bitter taste left in his mouth, “but he better not get used to this. Tonight was just a freak occurrence, like god finally threw him a bone after so many years of disappointment, but you better believe that Magnifico isn’t going to forget an actor of all people be the one to hold HIS title.”


“Cram it, King!” shouts Comet, surprising King with his strong language. “What was it you said, as Magnifico left with his title at the Clusterfeck? He’ll hold that title until someone outsmarts him, and guess what my friend, somebody did!”


“… And I also said, until someone ‘outfights’ him, and Davenport sure as hell didn’t do that tonight. When Magnifico gets his rematch, and he WILL get his rematch, he’ll be prepared, and Davenport will show his true colors as a one-trick pony.”


“I think I remember you saying that shortly after the Clusterfeck too,” Comet answers with a sly grin, causing King to grumble as in the ring, Magnifico lets go of the ropes and shakes his head, his hands on his hips. He replays the moments leading up to his defeat over and over, angry at himself most of all, and his own carelessness. He looks back up at Wes Davenport who backs away slowly, shouting “There’s so many people I have to thank!” before the music gets louder and he’s whisked away by SWF staff.


In the ring, the former World Champion clenches his fist. The exuberant smile we’ve all come to know is now gone, along with his title…















SWF From the Fire, March 14th, 2006

© Riot Act Productions. All rights reserved.

The Smartmarks Wrestling Federation: "Raising Workrate by Typing Faster."

Edited by realitycheck

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Back in a dim room, Hiroshi Hojo reaches across a table and switches off a monitor. His eternally pleasant smile makes him difficult to read, but it seems that he is quite pleased with the events that have taken place tonight at From the Fire. Comtemplatively, he swishes around a glass of red wine, held in one of his white gloved hands. The eternal timetable pushes forward, now with a quickening pace. The era of subtle movements and acting from the shadows is drawing to a close, and the second act of his grand play is about to begin.


Tonight, seeds have been sewn.


Tomorrow, he will fly out to meet with the Council.


And from there...


Hojo sips his drink, his eyes falling from the red liquid and onto an aged poster of a former SWF superstar, SWF champion... Thoth. "It has all come to pass, my friend. And soon," Hojo mutters, "Soon it will be exactly as I have predicted.


"So Says the Clan..."

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