SWF Smarkdown (June 4/2002)

[Guest BA_Baracus]

BOOM!

 

A swathing arc of pyro rips through the darkness!

 

BOOM!  Another one rises up to meet it!

 

BOOOOOOOOOOM!

 

And the Allstate Arena is jam-packed with screaming fans as another edition of SWF Smarkdown gets ready to bolt out of the starting gates!

 

“Welomce to a very special Tuesday night edition of SWF Storm!” comes a booming voice, never before heard from this particular position on an SWF show!  The camera whirls around the arena, picking up a line of signs ranging from “THUGG’S GONNA WRECK THE HOSPITAL’S SHIT” to “DUDE, DID YOU SEE THE MUNICH SHOOT INTERVIEW?” before finally skidding to a stop on the commentator’s table, where two very well-dressed men sit, grins across their faces!  “My name is Grand Slam Mark Stevens, and welcome to the Allstate Arena in Chicago and my first night of commentary here in the SWF!  Alongside me is former US champion and all purpose evil All-American, Bobby Riley!”

 

“I can’t believe I get stuck next to a chump like you!  A chump!  I should give you the Outsider Bomb right now and call the whole show by myself!”  Riley fumes as Stevens just laughs, too thrilled to be back involved with the SWF product to be bothered by Bobby Riley’s bitching.

 

“We’ve got an amazing show lined up for you folks tonight—and that, my friends, is a damn promise!”  Suddenly, the arena house lights drop out, slightly calming the jacked crowd…

 

“Ah, ah, ah…”

 

…and the opening sounds of “Summer In The City” whips them into a raging furor as fog flows up to fill the entrance ramp!   The ramp lights start to glow red, and as the fog starts to part, Stevens lets out a heavy sigh and the crowd starts to boo.  “Why did my first show on commentary have to start with HIM?” gripes the Heavy Hitter.

 

“Ladies and gentleman, making his way to the ring, from Miami, Florida,” booms Funyon, “Chris Willllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllsonnnnnnnnnnnnnnn!”  The sizable Wilson, former hardcore, tag, and world champion, looking like a veritable Americanized Masahiro Chono in his black trenchcoat, starts his stroll down the ramp, peering out at the crowd through Ruby Juliet Oakleys, smirking all the way down to the ring.

 

“What are you complaining about, Stevens?” rails Riley.  “Chris Wilson’s back in the SWF, and that in itself is a great occasion!  The master of the Platinum Nightmare—the king of the Finishing Touches—the man who beat YOU for the World Heavyweight Title back on the IGN Network!”

 

“Pah!” snorts Stevens, as Wilson climbs into the ring.  “You’re still just jealous that I won the title in the Regenerate Rules match, and that you ended up on the road to nowhere!”

 

“I have nothing to say to THAT particular bald-faced lie,” says Riley, simmering in his seat.  As the two ring veterans watch Wilson take a microphone from Funyon, they give him a bit of the respect he may or may not deserve.  “Summer In The City” quiets down, and Wilson brings the microphone to his mouth amidst chants of “MEAT FEST-I-VAAALLL!”

 

“Well hello, beautiful people of Chicago,” begins the master manipulator, with a thin veil of condescension coating his every word.  “It’s so nice to see that I can still get a reception, even after all these months of being away.  Obviously, you haven’t forgotten about everything I’ve accomplished, about all the marks I’ve left on this federation.”

 

“Here he goes again,” groans Stevens.

 

“All the stars I made—how I laid the foundation for the SWF that you see today!  Or maybe you’ve just been watching the program, and you happened to catch last week’s Storm, where I, with the help of Stryke, just happened to land yet another killing blow into the heart of the Midnight Carnival!”

 

“Thank god!” says Riley.  “Wilson’s always good for taking out a few of those guys—now, Mark, don’t worry—I have all the respect in the world for MacPhisto after dealing with him during his Corporation days, but those guys are just wayyyy too fruity, all right?”

 

“Maybe you saw me give Johnny Rotten a picture-perfect jumping piledriver on the outside of the ring,” continues Wilson amidst the harsh “EEEEEEE-GO, EEEEEEE-GO” chants of the fans, “or maybe you saw Stryke and I bring El Luchadore Magnifico--” BIG crowd pop for that name “—down for the count, one, two, three in the center of that ring!  Or maybe you’re all just very excited, because tonight, as if Stryke going after that sap Ash Ketchum wasn’t good enough, you get to see yours truly destroy that traitorous little Mexican one more time, in one-on-one competition!”

 

“Traitorous?” asks Stevens.  “Wilson of all people…you know, I’m already sick of listening to him, and he’s only been out here for 2 minutes!”

 

“You know,” continues Wilson, beginning to wax nostalgic, “at this time last year, I was well on my way to having the greatest Hardcore title reign this federation has ever seen.  I was busy bringing talents like the Hville Thugg and Spider Nekura into the eyes of the SWF fans for the very first time.  Over the next few months, I was able to take Thugg, the King of Hearts, and that little twerp Magnifico of all people, and turn them into world championship material!  I did everything—I pinned everyone!  There’s not a man alive who can hold a candle to my past achievements.”  Wilson grins.  “But enough about the past, adoring public.  There’s someone I want to talk to about my match tonight.”

 

“Who, Magnifico?” sniggers Riley.  “He probably won’t be able to pull together a sentence without working in some of his crazy-talk.”

 

“…you mean Spanish?”

 

“You heard me—crazy-talk!”

 

“So,” says Wilson, the crowd eager to hear who he’s about to call out… “Edwin MacPhisto, get your prissy little self out here, right this moment!”

 

“What?  What the hell?  Where does Wilson get off calling out Edwin?  Come on, Edwin,” hopes Mark, “just leave him hanging out here.  That’ll get him off his high--”

 

“I SAID HALLELUJAH!”

 

“Eh, well.  I tried.”

 

The arena explodes into a frenzy as a huge rush of fantastically colored pyro erupts from the entrance ramp with every huge beat of the Lo-Fidelity All-Stars’ “Battleflag”!  The stands become enrobed in the wildly spinning red and gold disco lights, and in the ring, Chris Wilson looks on, impressed at the spectacle.  The music continues on for a moment, and then amidst one more burst of pyro appears the man himself, World Heavyweight Title clasped around his waist, hair wild red and dyed with silver streaks for this evening, and a microphone in his hand!

 

“Chriiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiis Wilson!”  The crowd cheers wildly as Edwin stands at the top of the ramp, addressing his old foe with a smirk of his own!

 

“Listen to that reception for our world champion!” shouts Stevens.

 

“They give that sort of reception to anyone who manages to hold the title belt, or didn’t you notice?” retorts Riley.  Stevens ignores him, and Edwin stands tall at the top of the ramp, one hand on his belt, and one with the microphone at his mouth!

 

“Chrissy boy, it’s been a while, you know that?  At Crossfire, I was sitting backstage, getting ready to win this--” He pauses and points to the belt with a smile, drawing another rousing cheer from the standing crowd… “—when I saw you skulking your way down to the ring to announce your return.  We simply can’t stay apart from each other for too long, I think.  Something’s just wrong when there’s not an arrogant, egotistical, self-serving, boot-licking, self-proclaimed ‘mastermind’ in the house, and a chipper, zipper, and altogether hipper Mac Daddy ready to cut him down at every corner!”  As Edwin slings words like only he can, the crowd gets behind him:

 

“Mac-phist-OOOOO!

 

Mac-phist-OOOOO!”

 

“But honestly, Wilson,” continues Edwin, “what on earth do you want from me?  I’ve got a busy night of sitting in the back and mixing drinks ahead of me!”

 

“Simple, my good friend Edwin,” responds Wilson.  “I just felt like asserting my dominance over everyone else in this federation one more time, but tonight, I felt like focusing on you.  What do you say that you call off your little Chihuahua Magnifico, and instead of letting him lose to me tonight, step up and have the honor yourself?”

 

“Wilson??  Challenging Edwin to a match?  Is this what I’m hearing?  I stand by my position: where the hell does he get off doing this?” proclaims Stevens.  The crowd is fired-up for the possibility of a confrontation between the two, but Edwin blows it off with a laugh.

 

“My chihuahua?  Wilson, you’re off your bloody rocker, you know that?  You’re not talking your way out of the match with Magnifico no matter how bloody scared you are of facing him tonight!”  These words cut Wilson to the quick, and he momentarily lets his guard down before frantically recovering!

 

“Edwin, me, scared?  Of Magnifico?  You’re forgetting something—I made him!”

 

“Right, just like you made--”

 

“And I can unmake him, just like THAT!”  Wilson fires back with impressive force, surprising Edwin a bit.  “I made everything here—I can unmake any of it.  You’ve never beaten me, Edwin.  I’ve piledriven you in the center of the ring, and you’ve failed to get back up.  I’ve blasted you with the Platinum Nightmare, and you haven’t been able to come out on top.  If it weren’t for me, you would never even be a champion--”

 

“Would you cut it out?  Please?” moans Edwin.  “You’re not convincing anyone, Wilson, me least of all.  You got a win on Storm, thanks to plenty of cheating and a few lucky breaks.  Big deal!  You can talk about the good ol’ days all you want, pardner, but that doesn’t mean as much as you wished it did right about now!”

 

“June, July, August—we’re coming back to the summer again, you know.  Another Summer in the City, another time for me to rise to power while you and everyone else around fall to the ground.   You remember all the times I left you battered and bloody, Edwin?  Of course you do.  Do you remember all the times you left me battered and bloody?  Oh, wait, you don’t, because you never did…”

 

“You remember when Magnifico drove flags through your palms?”

 

“You remember when Grahf clobbered you with a chair and gave me a pinfall victory over you?”

 

“You remember when I beat you because the ridiculous Suicide King wasn’t fast enough to stop the count?”

 

“You remember when I nearly killed you 17 times out of 20?”

 

“You remember when we took out you and your entire crew--”

 

“You remember the toy store--”

 

“Wilson, I’m getting tired of this.  Tonight is my night off, and the last thing I need coming off the most brutal match of my life and another humdinger against Bo is you babbling away at me.  Let’s get the public opinion, eh?  Hiyo, fans of Chicago?  Does anyone here think Chris Wilson is in the right state of mind?”

 

“NO!”

 

“Does anyone here think he’s more full of himself than a snake that eats itself because it’s really hungry and doesn’t have anything to eat except itself?”

 

There’s a slight pause as the crowd thinks…

 

“YES!”

 

“Do you want to see me whoop his arse?”

 

“YES!”

 

“Please change your mind, because I’d really like the night off, and I think Magnifico can do a plenty good job by himself…”

 

Shouts of, “Uh, all right!” and “Sure, why not?” course through the crowd, finally culminating in:

 

“NO!”  And Edwin is satisfied!

 

“The Mac Daddy has this crowd in the palm of his hand!” says a contented Stevens.

 

“Sounds more like they’re crawling up his ass to me,” mutters Riley.

 

“This fireside chat is all well and good, Wilson,” beams Edwin, “but remember: this is the Windy City, and those flames are about to blow over at any time!   Maybe you’re right about some things—maybe back then, back in your super summer or whatever the bloody hell you’d like to call it, you could afford to call me a second banana, just because you and your little gang always seemed to be that onnnnne eensy step ahead of me.  But that’s the past, Wilson, and this is now!  The tides have turned, and now I’m the top banana!  I’ve got the ap-peel!  You go let yourself become an ‘evil mastermind’ again, Wilson—when you can cut the mustard again, then maybe we’ll talk.  Maybe, somehow, you’ll manage to manipulate your way into a match with me—but not now, not anytime soon!  In the meantime, you get to your ridiculous schemes, because I’ve got to get backstage and talk to Magnifico.”  Edwin pauses, and grins.

 

“We’ve got some flags to sharpen.”  

 

Wilson stammers and fumbles with his mic, but before he can get in the last word, Edwin pumps his fist towards the sound booth, “Battleflag” kicks up again, and the Mac Daddy poses before disappearing behind the curtain all in the span of a few seconds, leaving a frustrated Chris Wilson alone in the ring!

 

“And Edwin MacPhisto comes out on top in this battle of words, leaving Chris Wilson hanging!” chuckles Mark Stevens.  “I for one am very happy to see Wilson get a bit of what’s coming to him, and I’ll be even happier about it later tonight when he gets in the ring with Magnifico!  Woo!  Go ELM!”

 

“You’re such a mark,” snivels Bobby.  

 

“What?  I like watching wrestling too, you know!”

 

“It’s like you were never even in the business…jeez.  In any case, yeah, you’re right on that one thing—stick around, because we’ve got some great wrestling lined up for tonight, and shit, me on commentary!  It doesn’t get better than that folks!  Hey, cut to commercial!  Can I say that now?  Okay, fine, you’re right Stevens, this is kind of cool…”  As Riley continues talking to himself, we cut to commercial on the lingering image of Chris Wilson in the ring, a bit of anger in his brow slowly resolving itself into that smirking, satisfied grin, as he steps out of the ring…with purpose.

[Guest BA_Baracus]

SINGLES MATCH

Xstasy vs. Fallout

- These two both suffered defeats on Storm.  Which one will get back on their feet with a win on Smarkdown?

 

TRIPLE THREAT MATCH FOR THE US TITLE

Annie Eclectic vs. Durandal vs. Xero

- Jay Dawg was stripped of the US title on Storm for his incompetent boobery.  On Smarkdown 3 of the SWF’s newest talents will vie for the vacant belt.  Despite being new, there’s still some WF history between these 3 (probably some JL stuff too, but that doesn’t matter)…  

Match Description – DQ and count-out rules are in effect.  The first person to score a pinfall, submission or knockout is the winner.

 

POLE MATCH FOR THE HARDCORE TITLE

Ash Ketchum © vs. Stryke

- Ash made his SWF debut at Crossfire and defeated Stryke for the hardcore title.  This Monday Stryke gets his re-match.

Match Description – Regular DQ and count-out rules are not in effect.  A pole that extends about 10 feet above the top rope will be attached to one of the turnbuckles.  The first one to grab the belt and touch both feet to the canvas with the belt in their possession is the winner.

 

NON-TITLE SINGLES MATCH

Chris Wilson vs. El Luchadore Magnifico

- Magnifico brought Chris Wilson’s heavyweight title reign to an end back in the day, but on Storm Wilson managed to score a tag-team victory over the luchadore.  This Monday the two will go one on one…

[Guest BA_Baracus]

*Stevens:  Well, it looks like it’s time for our first contest of the night, which means my play-by-play duties with the SWF officially begin now.

*Riley:  And on behalf of the SWF, I’d like to apologize for that.  We did the best we could.  It was either him or the Exploding Chicken.  But personally, I’d take the Chicken over you any day.  At least you can carry on an intelligent conversation with him.

*Stevens:  And what part of that conversation would be intelligent?  The “kluk” or the “kaboom”?

 

“Come With Me” by Puff Daddy/P. Diddy/that one guy who used to go out with J-Lo starts.  Instantly, the arena goes to blackout while BRILLIANT white light pours from the entryway.  The familiar silhouette appears, projected out into the crowd.  The HUGE EXPLOSION of white pyro shocks the crowd into a frenzy, as the lights go normal, and Xstasy swaggers down the ramp, taking the time to scan the people.

 

*Funyon:  The following contest is scheduled for one fall!  Making his way to the ring, from Washington D.C., weighing in at 211 lbs…Xstasy!

 

He hops the rope, goes to a far turnbuckle, and displays the sign of the X above his head.  Cross, rinse, repeat.  Then he lounges in the corner to wait for his opponent.

 

*Stevens:  This should be a great match to start this special Tuesday edition of Smarkdown.  Two of our best light-heavyweights, Xstasy and Fallout, will go one-on-one.

*Riley:  I always look forward to seeing these two go at it.  Fallout, the greatest Light-heavyweight Champion of all time—besides me—and Xstasy, a true Capoeira master.  An annoying Capoeira master, but nevertheless…

*Stevens:  Annoying?

*Riley:  Oh come on.  “You will AAAAAAAAAAALLLLLLLLLLLL know the joy of X!”  Have you ever heard a lamer catchphrase in wrestling?

*Stevens:  Can you people believe this is coming from a guy who used to mimic Hogan?

*Riley:  Well, I can see we’re going to get along just great.

 

The lights go out.  “Scum of the Earth” by Rob Zombie begins to play.  As soon as the heavy guitar part starts, an explosion hits the entrance area, a faint green glow lights up the arena, and Fallout comes through the curtain.  He heads straight for the ring.

 

*Funyon:  His opponent, from Phoenix, Arizona, weighing in at 185 lbs., representing The Clan…Fallout!

 

Fallout stands in the center of the squared circle, feet apart.  He closes his eyes, and slowly lifts his arms skyward.  A huge green explosion comes from behind him.  He then removes his Clan robe and prepares for the match.

 

*Stevens:  Just a little over a week ago, at Crossfire, Fallout won the ICTV Title from Sacred.  Five days later on Storm, Sacred regained the title.  But he didn’t do it without some help from the deputy commissioner, the Suicide King.

*Riley:  What else is he there for?  If you need help cheating to win, why not go with the man in charge?

*Stevens:  Why not keep the match one-on-one?

*Riley:  Where’s the fun in that?

*Stevens:  As I said, Sacred won the match on Storm three falls to two, and took back the ICTV Title.  And right now, Fallout seems unusually calm for a guy who just got screwed out of the second most important title in this company.

*Riley:  That’s not unusual.  I think his body naturally produces Prozac.

*Stevens:  Uh…yeah.  But he has been known to snap at a moment’s notice.

*Riley:  And if he does, I’ll protect you.

*Stevens:  Really?

*Riley:  No.

 

DING DING DING

 

Fallout and Xstasy slowly move toward each other at the sound of the bell.  They stop about an arm’s length away.  Fallout slowly sticks out his hand.  Xstasy sticks out his hand as well, ready to grab Fallout’s.  But before they can lace the fingers, Fallout pulls away.  Xstasy attacks with a sidekick, but Fallout blocks it.  He retaliates with a sidekick of his own, but Xstasy swats it away.  Xstasy goes for a spin kick, but Fallout ducks.  Fallout runs in with a clothesline, but Xstasy ducks.  Both men pause for a second, and then they circle a bit.  Slowly, they move in and lock up.  Fallout goes into a side headlock.  Xstasy runs toward the ropes, taking Fallout with him, and he bounces Fallout off the ropes…but Fallout hits the brakes and maintains the headlock.  He applies some extra squeeze to Xstasy’s head.  Xstasy pushes Fallout into the ropes again, and this time he breaks the hold, but Fallout comes off the opposite ropes and takes Xstasy down with a shoulder block.  Fallout runs off the ropes, Xstasy slides underneath, Fallout bounces off the ropes again, Xstasy leap-frogs over Fallout, Fallout bounces off the ropes again, Xstasy rolls back for a Monkey Flip, but Fallout somersaults over him.  Both men stand up.  Fallout charges in, Xstasy sidesteps him, Fallout bounces off the ropes, and Xstasy takes Fallout down with a Whipback Kick!  Fallout gets back up.  Xstasy hits him with a sidekick that catches him in the leg.  Irish whip, Fallout reverses and lowers his head, but Xstasy kicks him right in the face!  Fallout staggers back but stays on his feet.  Xstasy grabs his arm, Irish whip, and he takes Fallout down with a Hurricanrana!  Fallout pulls himself up with the ropes.  Xstasy approaches him and goes for another sidekick, but Fallout blocks it.  He pushes Xstasy’s leg away, spinning him around 180 degrees.  Fallout grabs him from behind, and lifts him up into a belly-to-back suplex that sends Xstasy over the ropes and out of the ring!  Xstasy hits the floor hard!  He starts to get back up.  Fallout runs over to the corner and starts climbing the turnbuckles.  Xstasy stands up and turns toward Fallout, who flies off the top turnbuckle and takes Xstasy down with a cross-body attack!

 

*Stevens:  Cross-body off the top rope!  What a move!

*Riley:  Fallout weighs only 185 lbs., but any object that hits you from that height will do plenty of damage.

*Stevens:  I don’t know.  A feather probably won’t do much damage.

*Riley:  Fine.  Any WRESTLER that hits you from that height will do damage.  Is that okay with you?

*Stevens:  Yes.  Much better.

*Riley:  Good.  Your approval means so much to me.

 

Fallout is the first one to get back up.  He grabs Xstasy and throws him into the ring.  Fallout rolls in after him.  Xstasy slowly stands up.  Fallout grabs him, sets him up, and takes him down with a snap suplex.  Cover…

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

…and Xstasy kicks out.  Fallout buries his fist in Xstasy’s face a few times.  The referee orders him to open the fist and starts a five-count.

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

THREE!

 

FOUR!

 

Fallout stops punching before the referee can count to five.  Suddenly, the camera cuts to a shot of the stage, where Chris Wilson is now standing.  For the moment, he simply appears to be watching the match.

 

*Stevens:  What’s he doing up there?

*Riley:  I guess he wanted to see this match too.  I can’t blame him.  It’s been great so far.

 

He brings Xstasy to his feet and whips him into the corner.  Fallout charges in, but runs right into Xstasy’s boot.  Fallout staggers back.  Xstasy comes out of the corner and takes Fallout down with a double-footed wheel kick!  Fallout slowly gets up, holding his face.  Xstasy takes him by the arm.  Irish whip, and he takes Fallout down with a Hurricanrana into a pin…

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

…but Fallout kicks out.

 

*Stevens:  Xstasy is relying mainly on those martial arts kicks.  And they’re certainly getting the job done.

*Riley:  The man has won a few titles in his SWF career.  He knows what he’s doing.  But then again, Fallout had a title just four days ago.

*Stevens:  A title that Xstasy held at one time as well, and he held it for more than five days.

*Riley:  Hey, Fallout was screwed out of the belt.  You said so yourself.

*Stevens:  Yes he was.  I can hardly deny that.

 

Xstasy brings Fallout to his feet, and he gives the arm a good twist.  He whips Fallout into the corner.  Xstasy walks in and hits Fallout with about 15 Blitzing Jabs in various locations.  Xstasy whips Fallout into the opposite corner and charges after him.  Fallout tries to sling over Xstasy, but Xstasy catches Fallout’s legs on his shoulders.  However, Fallout pushes himself off of the turnbuckle and takes Xstasy down with a headscissor takeover!  Xstasy stands back up.  Fallout grabs him from behind with a waistlock.  But before he can lift him, Xstasy sticks his feet between Fallout’s ankles and does the Wishbone Split!  Needless to say, this breaks the hold, and Fallout goes down.  He gets up very slowly, holding his groin.  Xstasy waits patiently, ready to strike.  Once Fallout is up, Xstasy lets a kick fly toward Fallout…but Fallout somehow catches the leg!  Unfortunately, this defensive surprise doesn’t help him as Xstasy jumps up with his free leg and nails Fallout with an Enziguiri!  Fallout gets a dazed look in his eyes, and then falls over.  Xstasy goes for the cover…

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

…but Fallout kicks out.

 

*Stevens:  Xstasy nailed Fallout right in the head!

*Riley:  I’m thinking that hurt.

*Stevens:  I agree.  Both of these men lost their matches on Storm.  One of them will get back on a winning streak.  And so far, I have to pick Xstasy.

*Riley:  Unfortunately, so do I.  I think Fallout is letting the loss of the title go to his head.

 

Xstasy brings Fallout to his feet.  He pauses for a moment and looks up at the stage.  Wilson is still standing there.  For the moment he shows no signs of doing anything.  Xstasy turns his attention back to Fallout.  He hits him with a few punches to the face, backing him into the ropes.  Xstasy winds up and nails Fallout with a Ridgehand Chop!  (WHOO!  He winds up again and hits him with a second chop!  (WHOO!  Irish whip, Xstasy lowers his head, but Fallout counters with a Sunset Flip…

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

…and Xstasy kicks out.  Both men get up.  Fallout kicks Xstasy dangerously low, bending him over.  Fallout runs off the ropes, and he nails Xstasy with a dropkick right to the head!  Xstasy gets up, holding his head.  Fallout pulls him in and applies a front facelock…but Xstasy pushes him into the corner, countering the Meltdown.

 

*Stevens:  That was close.

*Riley:  A little too close.

 

Xstasy drives his shoulder into Fallout’s gut a few times.  Then he winds up and delivers another Ridgehand Chop!  (WHOO!  Xstasy whips Fallout into the opposite corner and charges in.  Fallout runs up the turnbuckles and flips back into a Moonsault…but Xstasy sees it coming and steps to the side, and Fallout hits the canvas!  Fallout slowly gets up.  Xstasy kicks him in the gut and pulls him in, and he applies a front facelock…but Fallout nails him with a low blow!  While wrestling referees are normally blind and/or idiots, this referee has no trouble spotting the low blow and calls for the bell.

 

DING DING DING DING DING

 

*Stevens:  What the hell was that?

*Riley:  I’ll tell you what that was.  Fallout realized he was about to lose the match, so he did something desperate.  If he’s going down, he’s taking Xstasy with him.  And it looks like phase 2 of the take-Xstasy-down-with-me project is about to go into effect.

 

Fallout rolls out of the ring.  He pauses for a brief moment to catch his breath, and then he walks to the timekeeper’s table.  Funyon gets out of his chair.  Fallout folds up the chair and slides into the ring with it.  Xstasy is slowly getting up.  Fallout winds up with the chair…but his swing is stopped.  The referee, not only intelligent but daring as well, has grabbed the chair.  They play tug-o-war with the chair for a few seconds, and eventually Fallout wins.  Now that he has control of the chair again, he turns to Xstasy and winds up…but he’s too late.  Xstasy rolls out of the ring and away from his armed opponent.

 

*Stevens:  Fallout intended to use that chair on Xstasy.

*Riley:  Ya think?

*Stevens:  But Xstasy was able to get out of there.

 

*Funyon:  The winner of this match, by disqualification…XSTASY!!!

 

“Come With Me” begins to play.  Fallout appears somewhat frustrated that his post-match attack was not fulfilled.  He then turns to the referee, winds up with the chair…and nails him in the head with it!  He goes down like a ton of bricks!  The music goes dead.  Fallout drops the chair, and then he turns to look at Xstasy.  Xstasy stares right back.

 

*Stevens:  Dammit!  That referee was only doing his job!

*Riley:  Well he can claim workman’s comp if he wants.  Fallout wasn’t about to leave the ring tonight without taking someone out.  And the referee was the closest one at hand.

*Stevens:  And Chris Wilson is still standing on the stage.  What interest does he have with these two men?

*Riley:  Does he have an interest in both men?  Or is it just one?  And if so, which one?

*Stevens:  So many questions, and no time to answer them.  We have to go to commercial.

*Riley:  Unfortunately, we’ll be right back.

[Guest BA_Baracus]

After returning from a Taco Bell commercial featuring El Luchadore Magnifico ("The food's terrible, but try the new Taco Bell-brand tequila! It's wormariffic!"), the camera fades in on the Allstate Arena in Chicago. The fans burst into a chant of "STEVENS! STEVENS!" as Grand Slam stands up and turns to acknowledge them. The camera pans the crowd and fans are shown holding signs such as "Oh My God, You Killed Thugg! YOU BASTARDS," "Blargledyargle" and "Durandal/Annie II: Not Ketchum." The chant tapers off as the US Title graphic appears on the SmarkTron and photos of Durandal, Xero and Annie E appear in a triangle. The words "TRIPLE THREAT" slam onto the screen and the fans cheer.

 

"Welcome back to SWF Smarkdown!" bellows Mark Stevens as the camera swings back to the announce table. "Already we've seen a lot of action from the Perfect Drug and Durandal's Clanmate, Fallout! Boy, do those guys give me the creeps!"

 

Bobby Riley interrupts to say, "Stop your damn shilling, Stevens. The Clan's got some of the best talent in the SWF right now, and I can't believe that Annie E was stupid enough to leave."

 

"Well, we'll see what the end result of Annie's defection is. As it stands now, though, Durandal's out to get revenge for the Clan by stealing her chance at the US Title."

 

"Don't you EVER pay attention?" Riley sighs. "This match ALSO includes one of the better light heavyweights in the fed, Xero. You can't discount that youngster."

 

"That said, we've got a triple threat from three of the best cruisers in the SWF, with the winner taking home the US Title that they-"

 

"ROBBED Jay Dawg of last week," interjects Riley. "Don't pull any punches here."

 

"We'll see who walks home with the US Title! Let's go to Funyon!"

 

Funyon stands in the ring wearing a lime green zoot suit with a yellow shirt, still managing to put half the dressing room to shame. "Ladies, gentlemen and Bobby Riley, the next contest is under triple threat rules and is scheduled for one fall. It is for the US Championship!"

 

The crowd pops for the title match, and as the synthesized fanfare starts, they continue cheering. Annie E's video starts playing on the SmarkTron as "I Get Wet" by Andrew W.K. blares over the PA. The Real Annie E runs full-speed down the entranceway. She slides into the ring and stares across the ring to the section of fans cheering the loudest for her, then points from left to right and thumb-points to herself. Funyon announces, "Currently in the ring, from Chicago, Illinois, and weighing in tonight a 154 and one-half pounds..." ("Sounds like she had a light lunch," quips Stevens) "She's smooth, angelic, electric AND eclectic, the REAL Annie E!" Annie curtseys facetiously to accept one more round of applause.

 

The applause quickly tapers off, though, as the lights go down. The intro to "Master of Puppets" by Metallica starts to play, then fades out. Suddenly, the chorus starts and the words "OBEY YOUR MASTER!" ring out across the arena. With that, Xero emerges from behind the curtain as the music continues. Red fireworks explode from each side of the platform as he makes his way to the ring.

 

"You know, Mark, Xero was one of the top workers in the SJL for a long time."

 

"He never DID get around to winning the World Title, though, did he?"

 

"Her opponent, from Port Colborne...... Ontario, CANADA! He weighs 199 pounds, he crippled Munich.... XEEEEEEERRRRROOOOOOOO!"

 

The fans boo Xero as he continues his march to the ring. He abruptly stops and flips off the section of fans to his right and then continues, toward the ring. As he enters the ring, the lights go down again, and the opening to Stabbing Westward's "Darkest Days" begins to play over the PA. The crowd bursts into a chorus of boos as the words "SO SAYS THE CLAN" fade onto the white SmarkTron in a black Gothic font, then throb and pulsate. Durandal walks through the curtain in his black Clan robe, then folds his arms across his chest defiantly.

 

Funyon announces, "And their opponent... from Buffalo, New York, and weighing in at 213 pounds... the Neglected Sword, or so says the Clan, anyway.... DURANDAL!"

 

The fans boo as he strides to the ring confidently. He walks up the ramp and removes his robe on the outside, folding it and laying it in his corner before entering the ring. Funyon holds the microphone for referee Eddy Long, who holds the US Title.

 

Long instructs the contestants as follows: "Lady and gentlemen, this match is for one fall, under triple threat rules. The winner will be the new US Champion, and the losers will buy me dinner tonight. Do you all understand the rules?" All three competitors nod. "Then let's get it-" Funyon whispers, "COPYRIGHT." Long looks horrified and clamps his hand over his mouth. He hands the belt to Funyon and silently signals for the bell.

 

 

DING DING DING!!!!!!!

 

 

"This one's underway!" Mark Stevens declares as the three competitors look at each other, no one wanting to make the first move. After a moment or two, Durandal shrugs and grabs Annie by the arm to force her into a lockup. Annie backs away, though, gesturing "Wait just a moment!" She adjusts her Angelic top and fixes her Smooth Criminal slacks. Durandal grabs her again, and once again she backs away, this time to adjust her boots.

 

Riley takes the opportunity to mock Annie. "Just like a woman to have to fix everything just right. Why didn't she do that BEFORE the match?"

 

"Well, Bobby, she's obviously trying to enrage Durandal."

 

"I know for a fact that he's been talking to his mentor, Thoth, regularly even while he's out of the country. Thoth told Durandal not to let Annie's eccentricity get to him, and since Durandal's exponentially smarter than her..."

 

"Hold on just one second there. What makes you say Durandal's so much smarter than Annie?"

 

"Well, she's a woman, for one," says Riley indignantly.

 

As Annie finishes tying her boot, she comes to her feet and Durandal once more tries to lock up with her. She backs away again, only to have Durandal follow her and nail her with a palm strike to the face. Annie staggers backwards and Durandal grabs her by the hair, then swings her toward the center of the ring. Annie takes a second to shake off the cobwebs, and Durandal uses the opportunity to play to the crowd by running his finger across his throat. "You know," Riley remarks, "He reminds me more and more of Brody every day."

 

Xero, meanwhile, sees Annie trying to get her bearings and jumps on her like a lion attacking a wounded zebra. He nails Annie with a baseball slide kick to the ribs and, when she collapses to the mat, grabs her arm and locks on a Fujiwara armbar. Durandal looks satisfied and backs into the corner to watch. Eddy Long drops down to ask Annie if she's going to submit. She shakes her head "no."

 

"You know, Mark, Durandal's actually making a smart move by letting Xero lock on a submission hold. Even though he doesn't work the arm-"

 

"I'm sure everyone watching is familiar with the basics of triple threat strategy. Our marks tend to be pretty smart, ya know."

 

"Unlike the Mark sitting next to me...."

 

Stevens, caught without a reply, goes back to watching the match. Annie spins out of the armbar, getting to her feet as quickly as possible. Before Xero knows what's happening, Annie grabs the back of his head with her free arm and jumps up to hit him with a knee strike to the face. Xero recoils, releasing his grip on Annie's wrist as she follows through with a kick, then a side-kick and finally a side-ax kick to the face. Durandal poises into position as the fans cheer Annie's Step-Up kick combo. Xero falls back into the corner and Annie turns around, only to be slammed in the face with a Yakuza kick from Durandal! She falls back into the corner as well, but Durandal grabs her and pulls her to the center. He nails Annie with a palm strike to the jaw to stun her and then spins her around to grab her arms in position for a tiger suplex. He spins through, setting up the Unprettier, but Annie wriggles free and backs into the ropes. Durandal turns around, and Annie meets him with a Drop Kiss that sends him reeling. The fans pop for Annie as she stands alone in the center of the ring.

 

"Aren't you a little surprised," asks Stevens, "that Durandal would go for the Unprettier this early in the match?"

 

"CLEARLY, Mark, you're not paying attention to the other work these people do." Riley takes on a tone of voice not unlike a grandfather talking to a five-year-old. "Annie, as I'm sure you're aware, is a WOMAN. As a woman, she cares deeply about her looks and very little else. Therefore, if Durandal were to hit the Unprettier and make her even less pretty, she'd probably starts crying, and it would be easier to pin her." Riley grins smugly.

 

Pause.

 

All Stevens can muster up in response to that asinine comment is, "She WAS the SJL World Champion."

 

"Yeah, well, so was Axis, but you don't see HIM accomplishing anything."

 

Durandal regains his bearings as Annie follows him into the corner. She grabs his arm and whips him to the ropes. He bounces off and ducks her clothesline, then rebounds and nails Annie with a dropkick to the knee. She collapses and Durandal grabs the leg to go for a figure four, but Xero interrupts him with a superkick to the back of the head! Durandal falls forward and Xero leaps onto him for the cover. Long counts

 

ONE

 

 

but Durandal kicks out of the early pin attempt. Xero pulls the stunned Clan member to his feet, then takes him back to the mat with an armdrag. Xero follows up with a Fujiwara armbar as Annie backs away from the two. Durandal starts to inch toward the ropes, but Xero pulls him back to the center of the ring. Durandal tries to spin out to the front, but Xero stays in position and keeps him from countering the hold. With nowhere to go, Durandal starts to aimlessly thrust his elbow backwards, hoping to catch Xero. Annie finally jumps to the turnbuckle and drops an elbow onto Xero to break the hold, then dives onto Durandal and locks on an armbar of her own. As soon as he realizes what just happened, Xero grabs Annie and yanks her off of Durandal, who rolls into the corner to nurse his arm. Xero angrily shoves his finger in Annie's face and screams, "Don't you DARE screw this up!" With that, he unloads a huge slap across Annie's face, prompting Stevens to shout, "What a creep!"

 

"What makes you say that, Mark? And, might I add, that's a VERY appropriate name."

 

"Xero's just trying to bully her into letting him win the match!"

 

Annie answers the slap with a stiff kick to Xero's ribs. She follows up with a series of right jabs that keep Xero stunned long enough for her to swing around and nail him with a solid left hook! Xero takes the fall to the mat and Annie covers him for

 

ONE

 

 

KICKOUT. Xero gets back to his feet. Annie continues following Xero into the corner, where she goes for another kick to his ribs. He catches her foot, though, and instinctively ducks her enzuigiri. Annie falls to the mat and Xero sits right into a single-leg crab. Annie reaches for the ropes and Eddy Long forces Xero to break the hold. He backs away as Annie performs a cursory stretch to get her back realigned. As soon as Eddy Long moves away, Xero jumps up and nails Annie with a dropkick that sends her over the top rope and crashing to the floor. Xero pauses for a moment, just long enough for Durandal to get into position for a Yakuza kick as soon as Xero turns back around. Stevens remarks, "He's getting a lot of mileage out of those Doc Martens," to which Riley retorts, "That's what your mom said last night." Stevens mutters something about that not even making sense as Durandal pulls Xero to his feet, then boots him in the stomach to double him over. He grabs Xero and turns him upside-down to go for a piledriver, but Xero uses the momentum to swing all the way up and catch him in a hurricanrana! He grabs Durandal's legs on the way down and hooks up a pin for

 

ONE

 

 

TWO

 

 

 

TH- KICKOUT! Durandal rolls away and gets to his feet, only to be met with a back heel kick from Xero! Xero grabs Durandal for a DDT, but Durandal drops to his knees and grabs Xero's leg, then takes him to the mat and follows through into an STF. Xero elbows out before Durandal can lock up the crossface, but Durandal gets behind him and locks up a waistlock. He slams his shoulder into Xero's back, riding him amateur-style. Xero tries to escape, but Durandal holds him tight to the mat and sinks in a double leg-ride so that he can tighten his waistlock, then swings back and tries to lift Xero up into a German suplex. "Excellent amateur-style work from Durandal here," says Mark Stevens as Durandal attempts to hoist Xero, but Xero holds on to Durandal's leg and curls his body around Durandal's leg to go for an anklelock. With that, Durandal drops down and thrusts his knee into Xero's ribs, crashing into the mat and flattening Xero. With his opponent nursing his ribs and unable to defend, Durandal lifts Xero off the mat and tosses him overhead with a released German suplex.

 

Bobby Riley shouts, "What a beautiful throw! Give that kid the belt right now!"

 

"Maybe if this were Greco," replies Grand Slam. "But this is the SWF, and it takes more than one pretty throw to win a match here."

 

Almost on cue, Durandal covers Xero. Eddy Long counts

 

ONE

 

 

TWO

 

 

 

THR- NO! Annie runs in to break up the pin with a baseball slide dropkick to Durandal's face! "Nice strategy by the Eclectic Angel," Mark Stevens points out.

 

Riley sits for a moment before saying, "The Eclectic Angel? What the hell are you smoking? Sounds to me like you spent a little too much time in the clubhouse, MARK."

 

Durandal rolls off to the side holding his face, and Annie gets on top of Xero to make a cover of her own! Long counts

 

ONE

 

 

TWO

 

 

 

TH- KICKOUT! Xero starts to regain his senses, and he has enough to kick out and roll to his stomach. Annie jumps over him and lands another stiff baseball slide to Durandal's face, sending him rolling out of the ring. With that, Annie grabs the top rope and swings down into a baseball-slide Drop Kiss! Durandal falls back into the guardrail as Xero gets back to his feet. Acting mostly on instinct, Xero bounces off the ropes and dives over the top rope in a textbook tope con hilo! Durandal looks up and sees Xero falling towards him. He holds out his arms!

 

He's going to catch Xero!

 

 

 

He's going to catch him!

 

 

 

He's going to...

 

 

 

 

 

 

move out of the way at the last possible second and lean on the guardrail, smirking as he watches Xero crash to the concrete floor! When Xero slams down in a heap, Durandal releases his pose and jumps into the air, then crashes down on Xero's ribs with a Doc Marten doublestomp. The fans boo him like there's no tomorrow as he slides back into the ring to face Annie.

 

With Xero on the outside clutching his ribs, Annie charges at Durandal and goes for a big, exaggerated discus punch. Durandal stands still and raises his eyebrow in a manner suggesting "We are not amused" as she spins through and swings the punch with all her might, only to be met with a stiff kick to the stomach before she can hit him. Annie doubles over and Durandal grabs her around the waist. He jumps up and slams Annie's head into the mat with a vicious piledriver, letting her crash to the canvas after impact. He covers her lazily and Eddy Long counts

 

ONE

 

 

TWO

 

 

 

TH- NO, Durandal pulls Annie up! The crowd boos loudly as he grabs the Japanese beauty by the hair and pulls her to her feet. He spins Annie into position for a reverse DDT and grabs her biceps, extending her arms. With a loud grunt, Durandal lifts Annie up off the ground and into a face-first crucifix position. As he gets into position, Grand Slam takes the opportunity to say, "Durandal's been training this move for quite a while and I know he was very anxious to give it a go on Annie."

 

"Well," retorts Riley, "it's not like she's going to put up much of a fight. He's almost 60 pounds heavier than she is."

 

Durandal holds Annie, crucified and facing the mat, and runs forward, finally leaping into the air as he swings Annie's arms forward and falls in a seated position. She flies over in an arc and comes crashing to the mat like a rag doll, victim of the running Iconoclasm! A little stunned himself, Durandal doesn't quite have the presence of mind to lean forward to go for the cover, instead getting to his feet and trying to walk off the impact.

 

Stevens tries to stifle a laugh. "It looks like he didn't practice it QUITE enough."

 

Finally regaining his bearings, Durandal drops to his knees and covers Annie for

 

ONE

 

 

TWO

 

("Could this be it?" "Shut up, Mark.")

 

 

KICKOUT!!!!!!!!!! Annie was able to recover just enough to kick out of the pin, and Durandal doesn't know what to do! He charges at Annie with a double stomp, but she moves out of the way and Durandal just hits the mat! Off-balanced, he collapses, only to have Annie grab him by the hair and pull him back to his feet. She whips him to the ropes and, when he bounces off, nails him with an unusually solid clothesline. He reels but stays on his feet, so Annie follows it up with a Drop Kiss that sends him over the top rope.

 

Seeing Durandal fall to the concrete, Xero takes his cue to get back into the ring. "Xero spent the last few minutes on the outside getting his stamina back," notes Stevens, "and he may be able to put up a fight for Annie, since I'm sure she's getting worn down." Xero slides back in and tries to lock up with the Eccentric One, only to be met with a kick to the ribs. Durandal gets to his feet on the outside and slides onto the apron, standing by the cornerpost while Annie unloads another stiff kick on Xero. Xero backs away, though, and comes back to Annie with a spinning heel kick to the head that sends her staggering backwards. Xero grabs Annie's arm and yanks her back to the center, where he locks her up for a double underhook power bomb. Annie, though, stands all the way up and sends Xero over with a back body drop!

 

"She's much too fresh for that," says Stevens.

 

"I dunno, MARK. She seems angry, so maybe she's... not so fresh."

 

Xero bounces back to his feet and Annie spins around to his side, ready to set up a Russian leg sweep. Xero swings his leg out before she can wrap it up, though, and takes Annie to the mat with an armbar. He tries to parlay the Fujiwara into a crossface chicken wing, but before he can, Annie limp-arms out and rolls, dragging and twisting Xero's arm and finally coming out on top with a hammerlock. The fans pop loudly, cheering and chanting as Annie threads her arm through for a chicken wing and goes for the Triple C. Xero, the crafty veteran, knows when to bail and wriggles free as quickly as possible, leaving Annie with only an armbar. Xero spins out to the front, gets to his feet and uses the armbar to whip Annie to the ropes. As she rebounds, he falls to the mat and nails her with a drop toehold. He follows through by coming up to his feet and locking both his feet under her legs. He chops at Annie's ribs, looking for the Mexican stretch, but fails to see Durandal slide in from the other side and nail her in the opposite set of ribs.

 

Durandal points to the top rope. Xero happily climbs to the top corner as Durandal positions Annie in the center of the ring, then perches himself in the corner at Annie's head. Mark Stevens asks, "What do you suppose these two are up to?"

 

"Trying to finish off the b*tch," comes Riley's simple reply.

 

With that, Xero jumps off the top rope and backflips in a picture-perfect shooting star press, coming down hard on Annie with the Absolute Xero! Eddy Long counts

 

ONE

 

("This has to be it, Bobby.")

 

 

 

TWO

 

 

("Well duh.")

 

 

 

TH- NO!!!!!!! DURANDAL COMES OFF THE TOP ROPE WITH A FLYING HEADBUTT AND NAILS XERO IN THE BACK TO BREAK THE PIN!!!!!!!

 

 

Bobby Riley's never right about the finish, you know.

 

 

Xero recoils as Durandal shakes off the cobwebs. Instead of going for the pin, though, he stands poised behind Xero, and just as Xero gets to his feet....

 

"BACKDROP DRIVER BY DURANDAL!" Stevens goes absolutely crazy. "He just spiked Xero right on the back of his neck! Xero's out cold, and Durandal's not even bothering to pin him!"

 

Sure enough, Durandal rolls Xero out of the ring, then looks at the prone Annie E and grins like a jackal. He climbs back up to the top and raises his arms in the air as the fans boo. He dives off the turnbuckle and comes crashing down headfirst....

 

"See, Stevens? THIS is the end!"

 

But Annie rolls out of the way.

 

 

I TOLD YOU he's never right about the finish.

 

 

Annie gets up and uses her thumb to point to herself. The fans respond with a loud pop, and Annie waits on her feet, poised for Durandal to get back up. Meanwhile, on the outside, Xero grabs a chair and starts banging his way up the steps. Eddy Long goes over to get the chair away from Xero, and Annie waits patiently for Durandal to get to his feet for the Splashdown. Durandal staggers to his feet and Annie locks him up. She spins around, but Durandal dodges the legsweep and as Annie finishes her rotation, she's met with a face full of black mist! He ducks the palm strike and responds with one of his own, slamming his hand stiffly into Annie's jaw.

 

"What a move!" shouts Bobby Riley, marking out for the extremely technical Greco-Roman mouthful of black spit.

 

"Durandal's been waiting for Eddy to turn his back for the whole match! Not a solid game plan, but I'd say it worked!"

 

Eddy Long finally manages to wrest the chair away from Xero and knock him down the stairs with a makeshift Van Daminator, punching the chair into Xero's face rather than kicking it. As he turns around, he sees Durandal spinning behind the Real Annie E, hooking her arms and then arching through until he's in position for the Unprettier. Some of the fans in the front row point angrily at Annie's face, but before Long can inspect it, Durandal kicks his legs out and slams Annie's face into the mat.

 

"My, she's MUCH less pretty now."

 

"Actually, Bobby, most STRAIGHT guys think she's quite beautiful."

 

"Er... well.... blarg."

 

Durandal rolls Annie onto her back and makes sure to hook her leg as Eddy Long counts

 

ONE

 

 

 

TWO

 

 

 

(Oddly, Bobby stays silent.)

 

 

 

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

 

 

DING DING DING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

 

"Your winner, and NEW SWF United States Champion... DURANDAL!!!!!!!!"

 

Eddy Long gets the belt from Funyon and hands it over to Durandal, who snatches it and holds it aloft. Then, he drops to his knees and starts whispering to Annie. The camera zooms in and picks up the dialog.

 

"Hey Annie," Durandal says sourly, "this could have been yours. But when you left the Clan, you gave it all up. You might as well retire now... because I just proved I'm better than you. So says the belt. So says Durandal. So... says... the Clan."

 

Durandal straps the belt on and slides under the bottom rope, making sure to grab his robe on the way out. As he walks back to the locker room, we fade.

[Guest BA_Baracus]

McWeed thrusts open the door to his office, whistling some variation on "Because I Got High." That Afroman really knows his stuff.  Immediately, he is treated to quite a sight, well, depending on what you're into.  Still worn out from his match against Fallout, The Perfect Drug sits on the edge of his desk, sweaty, bruised, and smiling.  McWeed maintains composure, like a good commissioner should, and merely holds the door open.

 

>Stubby "Get out."

 

>X "Hiya commish, no warm welcome?"

 

>Stubby "I said get out.  You're through."

 

>X "Through, huh?"

 

The Drug hops off of the desk, brushing off a picture of Stubby and shattering the frame against the floor.  Xstasy is mad.  Situations don't look good.  Resort to machismo.

 

>Stubby "I'm fining you for that, upstart."

 

>X "Oh yeah?  Well then this one is probably gonna cost us more."

 

He tosses off the nearest photo of Misty, with the same effect.  McWeed's eyes grow huge, and he storms in, threats in his mind.

 

>X "Don't bother.  We know.  Oh, and don't forget about this..."

 

Now Xstasy reaches behind the desk and holds up Bong-Fu, Stubby's most trusted companion.  The glass shimmers in the light as Stubby holds up his hands in near surrender.

 

>Stubby "Wait a second, don't even think about that one!"

 

>X "Aww, c'mon Stubby, that's all it took to break down your 'I am commissioner and I own you' routine?  You can do better than that."

 

>Stubby "You didn't break down anything, Xsta-puss!  If you even BREATHE on Bong-Fu wrong, you're fired!"

 

>X "You're forgetting, We don't even work for you."

 

>Stubby "Which is exactly why you can pack your things and go.  You lost today.  And like I've always told you before, you're a no talent loser, not even worth the SWF's time.  Now get the hell out of my office, and don't come back."

 

But the look on the youngster's face is priceless.  Inside those eyes is an anger for an injustice done to a friend.  And old loyalties never die?

 

>X "We're not goin' anywhere!"

 

>Stubby "Then I'm gonna make you go."

 

>X "You know, you really should hire us back.  When We work for you, at least then you have some control.  As long as We're free agents... we can make your life a living hell..."

 

He leans in close.

 

>X "And there's nothing you can do about it..."

 

CRRAAAAASSSHHHH

 

The Bong goes bye bye.

 

>Stubby "SECURITY!  OH YOU DAMN BASTARD!!!  SECURITY!!!"

 

>X "See ya round, Chubbs... heh heh heh..."

 

Stubby immediately presses a button on his intercom, contacting security and telling them the deal while the Drug makes a not-so-hasty exit.  The orders barking from the commissioner are barely intelligible, but his staff can make out the words "Xstasy" and "Get him the hell out of here!" So the chase begins.  And as Stubby bends down to pick up the broken pieces, his door, still ajar, swings to full openness...

 

>Wilson "This a bad time, McWeed?"

 

>Stubby "What the hell does it look like?  Xstasy did this!  Xstasy!  That damn boy, I'm almost tempted to sign his ass back, just so I can f*ck his ass over!!"

 

>Wilson "X did this?"

 

>Stubby "That f*cking PRICK!!"

 

>Wilson "Hmmm..."

 

Stubby continues to sweep as Wilson turns to leave.  And once again, the evil genius' gears are turning...

[Guest BA_Baracus]

Backstage in Chicago, Benjamin Hardy stands backstage with Ash Ketchum, who is lookin’ might spiffy tonight with that SWF Hardcore Title. Ben Hardy now, for osme reason, has a mustache/goatee/whatever. Looks nice on him. And so, Benjamin looks into the camera as he is cued by Gus to begin. And so... he does.

 

Ben: Ladies and gentlemen, I am here with Ash Ketchum, who currently is SWF Hardcore Champion, who has a match with Stryke tonight. Now Ash...

 

Ash: That’s Mr. Hardcore to you, Benji To The Rescue.

 

Ben pauses and clears his throat ready to start over.

 

Ben: OK. Mr. Hardcore-

 

Ash Ketchum stops him with a piercing stare.

 

Ash: Why’d you call me that?

 

Ben: You told me to...

 

Ash: Did not.

 

Ben: Did, too.

 

Ash: Did not.

 

Ben: Did, too.

 

Ash: Did not.

 

Ben: Did, too.

 

Ash: Did not. My name’s Ash. Get it right. Start over.

 

Ben: *sigh* Fiiiiine.... Ash, the uestion the whole world wants to know is this: Is Pokemania good enough to overcome Stryke?

 

Ash pauses for a second, thinking deep into the back reaches of his mind.

 

Ash: You mean the man who is joining Wilson’s Reincarnated Meat Festival? Stryke the Super Dyke?

 

Ben: I guess so.

 

Ash: Then yes.... it should be.

 

Ben pauses as he prepares his next question, Ash smiling and waving to the fans watching on TV and in the arena.

 

Ben: But Ash, are you ready for the kind of hardcore intensity that Stryke’s gonna bring?

 

Ash pauses to think for a second, and deep in that mind of his... a brainstorm climaxes into an idea.

 

Ash: Hardcore? What is “hardcore”? Is a steel chair hardcore?

 

Ben nods as Ash pulls a steel chair from off camera.

 

Ash: Look...(He slams it against the ground and it bends in half with a “CLANK!”.) That’s not hardcore. (He picks up a cinder block.) Ben... is THIS hardcore?

 

Ben: Ash, I-

 

Ash: WRONG. (Ketchum smashes it over Ben Hardy’s head, producing a fine powder that coats Ben’s face.) Now, something tells me cinder blocks don’t explode like that. (Ash bends over and picks up an item off the floor: a crowbar.) What about this?

 

Ash lifts it above his head, Ben Hardy looking totally scared, but as Ash swings it down, the crowbar bounces off Ben’s head and Ash brings it back up.

 

Ash: NO NO NO NO NO! (With each “NO!”, Ash hits Ben with the “crowbar”. ) Fake... fake... fake.

 

Ketchum throws this “crowbar” against the ground, but it bounces back up into Ash’s hand. Ketchum throws it down, and it bounces back up again. The crowd pops as Ash begins to play with the crowbar like a bouncy ball, bouncing it up and down

 

Ben: Ash... you still haven’t answered my question.

 

Ash keeps playing with the “crowbar” until it bounces away from him. He sighs as Ben attempts to speak again.

 

Ben: Ash-

 

Ash: I’m not done. That’s not all that’s fake.

 

At that moment, Cutthroat walks by with a big-ass afro. Seeing this, Ash reaches over and grabs the afro off of Cutthroat’s head, revealing a horrible haircut. Cutthroat runs off, crying loudly as Ash holds the wig up into Ben’s face.

 

Ash: LOOK! It’s fake, too!

 

Throwing the wig down, Ash looks at Ben’s mustache, which looks niiiice. Putting his finger on it, he rubs it, rubbing it off of Ben’s face until it exists no more.

 

Ash: Your mustache is fake!

 

At that moment, the crowd pops, but Ash storms over, off-set toward Gus, who just stands there, fliming Ash. He punches through a WWE-style table, which breaks in half.

 

Ash: THAT’S FAKE!

 

Ash wals right up to Gus, who remians motionless.

 

Ash: Even the cameramen are fake!

 

Ash punches Gus in the face, and his “head” flies off. Quickly snapping around, Ash grabs the other camera and pulls it close to his face.

 

Ash: But the one thing that’s NOT fake, Stryke, is the PAIN I’m going to give you tonight. If you think I can’t handle you, i’ve been through more shit then you could EVER imagine! I’ve been in so many HARDCORE matches, you might consider my scars to be badges of honor! I can take it... can you, Stryke? Do you have The Poke Balls to take the pain? We’ll find out. But ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, children of ALL ages... please excuse this interruption, becuase I got one thing to say... and that iiiiiiiiis... POKEMANIA’S GOIN’ HARDCORE! WOO-HOO, BIATCH! WOOOOOO-HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

 

Ketchum shoves the camera down out of his face and stomps off, leaving Benjamin alone to ponder the Poke Freak’s actions.

 

Ben: But you never answered my question...

[Guest BA_Baracus]

SWF Smarkdown returns to the air, the rabid Chicago crowd still rowdy from the big matches they’ve already seen. After scanning over the sold out Allstate arena the camera switches to the announce desk where the brand new commentary team of “Grand Slam” Mark Stevens and Bobby Riley sit, preparing to call the next big match.

 

GSMS: “Welcome back to Smarkdown fans. We’ve already had a pair of big matches and a new champion crowned, but there’s even more to come. Of course there is still our main event, pitting former allies Chris Wilson and El Luchadore Magnifico one on one, but first we have a rematch from the last PPV Crossfire.”

 

Riley: “Indeed, Ash Ketchum defending the SWF Hardcore Title against Stryke, the Australian cashing in his rematch. And what a rematch it is, a Pole match sure to bring out the hardcore side of both men.”

 

While Stevens and Riley talk the camera zooms in and focuses on the pole that reaches up 10 feet above the top rope in the far right corner from the entrance, the Hardcore belt hanging from the top.

 

GSMS: “Ash Ketchum is in great form, winning the SJL World Title twice and the SWF Hardcore Title in a matter of weeks, and is coming off a big win over Xstasy on Storm. After spending seemingly an eternity in both the ML and JL to reach the WF he’s certainly taking the bull by the horns and making the most of it.”

 

Riley: “Yeah, well that ends tonight. Ash was lucky in beating Stryke, making an anonymous challenge meant Stryke wasn’t able to prepare himself for the match, not knowing his opponent giving Ash a tremendous advantage that allowed Ash to steal the title away. But there are no secrets tonight, Ash will have to deal with the very best of Stryke, and he’s no doubt champing at the bit to win the Hardcore Title a second time.”

 

Without any more delay the arena goes dark, only a white spotlight flickering onto the stage as Cypress Hill’s “Rock Superstar” kicks up, the fans instantly getting to their feet in boos as blue and silver pyro sparkle up from all across the stage. As the sparks and smoke clears Stryke slowly walks out onto the top of the stage, absorbing the hate of the fans. Stryke stops under the spotlight and slowly raises his arms up, finishing in a crucifix position as Funyon says his spiel.

 

Funyon: “Ladies and Gentlemen, the following contest is a Pole Match for the SWF Hardcore Title! Entering first the challenger, weighing in at 219lbs from Sydney, Australia, STRYKE!!!”

 

As thunderous boos rain down on him Stryke heads down the ramp, the lights turning up as he makes his way to the ring and climbs in, moving to the far corner and climbing up, grabbing onto the pole that has been erected, checking how sturdy it is, before hopping down and preparing himself for the match at hand.

 

Riley: “And there’s the soon to be two-time Hardcore Champ. Before Crossfire he had been tearing a swathe through the hardcore division, and that’ll continue tonight.”

 

GSMS: “Stryke has proven himself to be quite a force in Hardcore matches, but Ash Ketchum is called the ‘Master of the Gimmick Match’ for a reason. These two have a rivalry stemming back to the JL, and that history combined with the Crossfire match should make for a brutal contest.”

 

Riley: “One other thing in Stryke’s favour is that Ash is a man standing alone. Back in the JL he always had those pesky X Force 9’ers to help him out, but now there’s no one in his corner, while Stryke has aligned himself with none other than former IGNWF Heavyweight Champ Chris Wilson.”

 

GSMS: “A very valid point, Ash will have to watch his back just in case Wilson decides to make his presence felt tonight. But he can’t worry about that, he’ll have to focus all his attention on Stryke and keeping the Hardcore Title around his waist.”

 

Suddenly the lights go out, and the beginning of Billy Crawford’s “Pokemon Theme” begins to play, the crowd roaring up in a huge ovation as a waterfall of pyro flows over the SmarkTron and shoots up in front of the entrance. But then, as the first words begin, the pyro in front of the entrance stops and a spotlight shines onto the stage, shining off the Hardcore Champ, who has his arms out in a crucifix position, facing back at the entrance. Ash spins around from his pose and walks halfway down the ramp, before stopping his walking and bringing his right arm up straight in the air quickly and makes his signature split-finger victory sign with his right hand. At this point, five red pyro blasts shoot up from the stage in unison, right where the original pyro was. Ash releases himself from his poses and goes down to ringside, Ash slapping hands with the fans and getting pumped up as a video of clips from his best SWF, JL, and ML matches plays on the SmarkTron.

 

Funyon: “And now entering the ring, weighing 258lbs and hailing from Tampa, Florida, the defending SWF Hardcore Champion, ASH KETCHUM!!!”

 

With the crowd going wild he climbs up onto the apron, getting into the ring and climbing the turnbuckle closest to him. Ash takes off his shirt, whipping it into the first few rows of the excited crowd, giving a lucky fan a souvenir they’ll never forget. Ash then hops off the turnbuckle and focuses his attention on Stryke, both men staring at each other as the referee moves to the ropes and signals for the bell.

 

DING DING DING!

 

As a big cheer roars up from the crowd as the match officially begins, but both men hold off to begin, slowly circling each other, not wanting to make a mistake to begin this unique contest.

 

GSMS: “Both men getting off to a tentative start, and with the prize on the line you can’t blame them. One mistake and the match could be over.”

 

Both men continue to circle, but as soon as Stryke is closer to the corner he makes a move for the corner, bolting to the turnbuckle and climbing up as quick as he can. With huge boos resonating from the crowd as Stryke gets near the title Ash too rushes over to the corner, grabbing onto the back of Stryke and pulling him down to the mat before he can stretch out and go for the belt. Stryke’s dart for the belt leaves him at the whim of Ash though, and Ketchum lays in with a furious barrage of right hands, driving Stryke back onto the ropes as the fans go wild.

 

GSMS: “Stryke made an early attempt for the title right off the bat, but Ash won’t let Stryke get away with a cheap win like that, he’ll have to fight to win the belt here.”

 

Riley: “It may not have worked then, but in a match like this you have to go after the belt every chance you get. Stryke will get up there sooner or later, I guarantee we’ll have a two time Hardcore Champ by the end of the match.”

 

Ash gets Stryke onto the ropes, and quickly looks to build on his early momentum, taking him by the arm and sending him across the ring with an Irish whip. Stryke rebounds and comes back, right towards a hook kick from Ash. Stryke sees it coming though, ducking underneath and slipping in behind Ash, catching him in a rear waistlock and setting him for a German Suplex. Stryke looks to power Ash over, but the champ has both the height and weight advantage over Stryke, allowing him to utilise his leverage and prevent Stryke from lifting him over. As Stryke again tries to lift Ash over in vain the Poke Freak thrusts back with a series of back elbows, connecting with the head of Stryke and jarring him back, freeing Ash from the hold. With Stryke stumbling back holding his face Ash wastes no time, charging at the ropes and springing off to get up a head of speed, and as he springs back he heaps up, flying across the ring and slamming his forearm into the head of Stryke, sending him to the mat with a stiff forearm smash.

 

GSMS: “A big forearm from Ash Ketchum, smashing right across Stryke’s face. Ash with a very fast start, escaping the German Suplex and coming back with a big move of his own.”

 

With the crowd firmly behind him Ash quickly hops up to his feet and immediately eyes the Title belt hanging above the ring, but seeing Stryke beginning to get up to his knees Ash ignores the belt for now and goes back to his opponent. Stryke begins to get up, but right away he is on the receiving end of a hard punch, knocking Stryke back down and sending him towards the ring corner. Ash continues the onslaught, nailing Stryke with a series of stomps, his boot jamming into Stryke’s body and forcing him back into the turnbuckle. With Stryke now trapped Ash doesn’t relent, stomping a hole right into the chest of the Showstopper, the fans going up in cheers as Ash Ketchum wails away on the challenger.

 

Riley: “Bah, Ash is just off to a lucky start. It’s only a matter of time before Stryke’s back in this.”

 

GSMS: “You’d have to think an athlete the calibre of Stryke won’t be on the defensive for long, but Ash looks to be really pumped up for his first Title defence. He’s in the form of his career and won’t give up his first piece of WF gold easily.”

 

As Stryke reels in pain in the corner, Ash’s mind quickly draws to the objective at hand, that being reaching the Hardcore Title belt. Leaving Stryke, Ash moves to the corner where the pole is suspended, the fans going up as Ash moves up the turnbuckle, holding onto the pole as he reaches the top rope.

 

Riley: “Damn it, no! Come on Stryke, get up!”

 

Seeing Ash up top Stryke desperately pulls himself up using the ring ropes, getting up still holding his midsection and running over to Ash as Ketchum reaches up, his fingers just brushing the title belt. Ash looks to make one final stretch to try and get hold of the belt, but by that time Stryke has come across to disrupt. Stryke goes to knock Ash off the turnbuckle, but as he runs in Ash leaps off the top, jumping over Stryke and leaving the Australian to crash into the turnbuckle, to the pleasure of the very pro-Ash Chicago crowd. Stryke collides hard with the ring corner and stumbles back, allowing Ash to turn around and grab Stryke, turning him into a front facelock in position for a swinging neckbreaker. Ash goes to swing around and hit the move, but as he does Stryke is just able to break free, escaping Ash’s grasp. Both Stryke and Ash turn around, Stryke looking to get on the offensive first by launching at Ash with a clothesline. Ash is still fresh enough to avoid the move though, and as he does he hooks Stryke’s arm and brings it up behind him, also hooking his other arm and applying a full nelson. Looking to take Stryke down once more Ash puts his leg in front of Stryke’s legs in preparation for a Full Nelson Russian Leg Sweep, the Rock, Scissors, Paper. The crowd cheers in anticipation, but their bubble is quickly burst, Stryke using the position to bring his leg up in a mule kick, connecting hard with Ash Jr.

 

GSMS: “Oooh, a low blow the only saving grace for Stryke on that occasion, and with that the momentum Ash has built up goes right out the window.”

 

Riley: “If Ash wants to play the hardcore game he has to be ready for moves like that, it’s all legal in Hardcore match.”

 

Ash releases Stryke and stumbles back, doubling over in pain from having his testicles kicked up into his throat. Stryke doesn’t give Ash a second respite, turning to face Ash and thrusting his leg out in a superkick, Stryke foot hitting flush with Ash Ketchum’s jaw and decking him with the Heatseeker, massive boos sounding forth from the crowd as Stryke gets on top of the match for the first time.

 

GSMS: “Stryke with the Heatseeker, his signature move taking Ash Ketchum down hard. A few more moves like that and we may be seeing a new champ in town here.”

 

Riley: “Damn right we will. Stryke is one of the best Hardcore champions we’ve seen in quite a while, and becoming a two-time champ will prove that.”

 

With Ash down close to the ropes Stryke quickly hops between the ring ropes, facing back into the ring. With the crowd yelling boos in his direction Stryke uses the ropes to spring himself over, clearing the top rope and coming down across Ash with a leg drop. The momentum of the move allows Stryke to pop right back up to his feet, and in typical Stryke style he raises his arms to the crowd, drawing a wave of hatred for his troubles.

 

Riley: “Bah the crowd have no taste. Booing a fine, upstanding individual like Stryke, they just don’t recognise talent. It doesn’t surprise me though, any city that supports the Bulls obviously wouldn’t know a good thing if it kicked them in the face.”

 

After taking great joy in aggravating the packed Allstate arena, Stryke moves back to Ash, pulling his old foe up off the canvas and standing him up. Stryke moves him to the middle of the ring, delivering a kick to the midsection and hooking Ash for a Vertical Suplex. After stalling a moment Stryke lifts Ash up and holds him high, but as he does Ash shifts his weight, escaping Stryke’s hold and dropping down behind him. Before Stryke can react to Ash he grabs him around the waist from behind, Ash quickly lifting Stryke over in a German Suplex. Stryke too isn’t about to fall victim though, and using his athleticism he is able to rotate over, landing back on his feet, to the disappointment of the crowd. Stryke immediately moves in and snatches the arm of Ash, pulling it back into a hammerlock. Stryke pulls up hard on the arm, applying maximum pressure to the upper arm and shoulder, but Ash Ketchum quickly goes to escape the move, moving forward and running into the ropes, and as he rebounds he holds tight to the top rope, stopping himself while the momentum causes Stryke to fling off him, Stryke rolling back and getting right back to his feet. Ash turns and charges in with a clothesline, but Stryke has set himself, dodging to the side and catching Ash’s incoming arm with his own, moving in behind the Poke Freak and hooking his other arm as well, holding him in position for an umprettier. With the boos rising Stryke turns Ash around, and quickly drops down into a stunner, Ash bouncing back and dropping flat on his back from the impact of the move.

 

GSMS: “The Event Horizon out of nowhere, and following that greatseries of counters and reversals by both men suddenly Stryke may have a shot at the belt.”

 

With Ash down Stryke looks up at the title belt hanging from the pole, and wastes no time by heading to the corner, the fans getting up in heavy boos as Stryke starts to climb the turnbuckle. Stryke gets close to the top, but much like Stryke earlier, Ash doesn’t weant to lose this easily, and draws on all his energy to pull himself up, getting to his feet just as Stryke gets up top. Stryke reaches up, but with the belt 10 feet above the top rope, and Stryke only being 6 and a half feet tall it is quite a reach. Stryke reaches up as hard as he can, even jumping a bit to try and nab the belt. Stryke can only barely brush the belt when Ash charges over, knocking Stryke’s legs out and causing him to crotch himself on the ring ropes, a big cheer going up as Stryke yells out in pain.

 

GSMS: “What goes around comes around, this time Stryke the recipient of a low blow. You have to be very careful when you’re up top going for the belt, as if your opponent isn’t incapacitated enough you’ll be left in a very precarious position.”

 

With Stryke prone on the ropes Ash moves back, before quickly charging in, running at Stryke and leaping up with a clothesline, taking both Stryke and himself over the top to the outside, the crowd cheering as Stryke slams hard onto the concrete floor and Ash lands on his feet, raising his arms to get the crowd behind him, drawing an even stronger ovation from the rabid fans.

 

Riley: “Both men on the outside now, after starting out with some traditional wrestling we look to be getting into the hardcore element right now.”

 

GSMS: “Indeed, and we’ve seen both men know how to use weapons, who knows what we’ll see Stryke and Ash bring out to win here.”

 

With Stryke sprawled out on the floor Ash moves to the announce table area just in front of him, sending people scurrying out of his way as he reaches down and picks up a steel chair, folding it shut and holding it up to the crowd as Stryke begins to pull himself up with the support of the ring apron.

 

GSMS: “Well it didn’t take long, Ash getting a steel chair. Stryke better look out now.”

 

Riley: “Boo, come on Stryke, get up and escape!”

 

Despite Bobby’s beckoning, Stryke pulls himself up to the apron, but that leaves his back exposed to Ash, and the defending champ takes full advantage, swinging the chair at full force and smacking across the back of Stryke, a big cheer going up as Stryke arches his back in pain, dropping back to his hands and knees on the floor as Ash stands tall.

 

Riley: “Ouch, I know from experience those chairs hurt like hell, Stryke must be in a world of pain right now.”

 

With Stryke on his hands and knees Ash continues the attack, raising the chair above his head and bringing it down across the back of Stryke once more, slamming it across the spine of the Australian. Stryke collapses down to the mat and tries to pull himself up with the ring steps, but again Ash thrusts out with the chair, jamming the end of it into the back of Stryke, ramming it in again and again, Stryke yelling out in pain as his spine is heavily worked over, the fans cheering every second of it.

 

GSMS: “Ash Ketchum wailing away on the back of Stryke with that chair, Stryke would have to be in agony, each blow drilling into Stryke’s spinal cord.”

 

Riley: “Attacking Stryke’s back, that’s not very nice.”

 

GSMS: “Well there’s no place for nice in a match like this, you do whatever it takes to win.”

 

Ash finally stops the barrage of chair shots, moving back away as Stryke pulls himself up with the ring steps. As Stryke gets up Ash charges in to go for a chair shot to end all chair shots, but as he does Stryke reacts at the last moment, dropping down and taking Ash down with a drop toe hold, sending him face first right into the ring steps! A big ‘ooohhh’ echoes from the crowd at the impact, Ash dropping the chair and holding his head in pain from the collision of metal with skull.

 

Riley: “Yeah, Ash getting a little too cocky with the chair that time, and it cost him big time.”

 

GSMS: “Ash face first into the steel, that may be the only saving grace for the Showstopper here. Now we’ll have to see if he can get back into this.”

 

Stryke gets up to his feet, holding his back, but he ignores the pain, grabbing the chair and tossing onto the ring apron, before moving over to the time keeper and knocking him out of the way, drawing strong boos as he picks up the ring bell and heads back to Ash. Ash gets up to his feet and turns around, but unfortunately for him he walks right into the ring bell, Stryke slamming it into Ash’s head and knocking him to the mat.

 

Riley: “The ring bell to the face, and Ash is right back down again. If Stryke goes for the belt he might just make it!”

 

Stryke drops the ring bell to the floor and slides back into the ring, still favouring his back but ignoring it and heading to the pole corner. With the arena erupting into boos Stryke makes his way up the turnbuckle, getting near the top as Ash finally starts to stir. Stryke gets up top and tries to reach up, but again the belt is too far up, Stryke jumping and batting at the belt but failing to get hold, the crowd almost laughing at Stryke’s failure to reach the gold. Despite getting increasingly frustrated Stryke continues to reach up, but with the time it’s taking Ash gets back in the ring, and as he does he grabs the chair off the apron! The fans get to their feet in cheers as Ash runs in from behind Stryke, chair at the ready, but the cheers attract Stryke’s attention, the Showstopper turning just in time to extend his foot and kick the chair back into the Poke Freak’s face, Ash dropping down to the canvas, the chair plopping on top of him. Seeing Ash in that position Stryke just can’t help himself, leaving the belt and walking out on the ropes, showing great balance as he stands on the ropes and faces down on Ash. Bouncing up and down to obtain extra height, Stryke spins around and bounces off the ropes, springing back in a picture perfect springboard moonsault. Stryke floats through the air, but as he does Ash rolls to the side, and to a big cheer crashes down on the steel chair!

 

GSMS: “Stryke missed! His overconfidence and showmanship costing him once more, leaving the belt to try a big high risk move on the hardcore champ. Ash can get back in this right now.”

 

Ash starts to get back up, but Stryke too is getting up, holding his chest in pain from the chair. Ash waits for Stryke to turn around, and as he does he moves in and catches Stryke in position for a rock bottom, the PokeRap. A huge cheer goes up for Ash’s signature move, but before he can hit Stryke fights back with a number of back elbows, getting out of the move. Stryke immediately moves Ash into a rock bottom of his own, the Breakdown! Huge boos rain down on the Showstopper, but Ash too fights back, back elbowing his way out of trouble.

 

Riley: “Both men with an identical move, and each has obviously scouted the others rock bottom well, both men escaping the move.”

 

Stryke stumbles back, allowing Ash to regroup and move in, taking Stryke’s arm and turning him into an arm wrench. That’s only the setup though, Ash using the position to lift Stryke up into an Angle Slam, spinning around and slamming Stryke right down onto the steel chair!

 

GSMS: “Pikaslam on the chair! That’ll fold Stryke’s spine up like a slinky, an incredible move.”

 

The fans are on their feet, a huge ‘ooohhh’ from the crowd at the move quickly turning into an ‘ASH!’ chant in support of the champ.

 

Stryke writhes in agony on the mat, allowing Ash to make an attempt at the belt, moving to the corner and climbing up, the crowd cheering in support. Ash slowly climbs up to the pole and reaches up, barely touching the bottom. Ash tries to grab onto it, but his troubles in reaching it give Stryke the chance to fight up to his feet, and despite being in tremendous pain he charges at the corner, jumping up behind Ash and shoving him off the top, Ash flying to the outside and slamming chin first on the guardrail, leaving Ash in tremendous pain on the floor as a large ‘ooohhh’ goes up, turning into a ‘Holy Shit!’ chant at the impact of the crash.

 

Riley: “Ash going face first into the guardrail from the top! That could turn the whole match right there, Ash could have a broken jaw, and with that Stryke has a straight shot at the belt!”

 

With Ash down on the floor Stryke stops for a moment, still feeling the effects of the match, before moving over and picking up the chair he was slammed on moments ago, before once again climbing up to the pole. Getting up top, instead of reaching for the belt Stryke starts swinging the chair at the title, trying to knock it off the pole as the fans boo vehemently.

 

Riley: “Ingenious! Stryke couldn’t reach the belt by hand, so he’s going to knock it off and then grab it, before touching both feet to the mat! He’s smart this one.”

 

Stryke again swings the chair at the belt, and at last manages to knock the gold off it’s hook. The only thing is the belt falls out of the ring to the floor, right out where Ash lays! Stryke eyes go wide as Ash recovers enough to grab the belt and look to get back into the ring.

 

GSMS: “Stryke knocks the belt free, but it falls right to Ash Ketchum! Whoever can get both feet in the ring while holding the belt will win!”

 

Riley: “Damn it, this isn’t fair! Stryke got the belt off the pole, this should be over right now!”

 

Ash gets up to slide in the ring, btu Stryke throws all risk out the window, leaping off the top with chair still in hand, crashing into Ash and knocking both men down. The fans go crazy as both men scuffle back and forth on the floor, trying to get position and grab the belt. Finally it’s Stryke in control, grabbing the chair and jamming the edge into Ash’s gut. As Ash holds his side in pain Stryke crawls over and grabs the belt, before getting up and crawling back into the ring.

 

Riley: “Yes, Stryke’s got it! New champ!”

 

Stryke crawls in, but just before his feet are in Ash desperately lunges up grabbing onto Stryke’s feet! Stryke flails and tries to claw his way into the ring, but Ash pulls back, dragging Stryke back out towards the outside of the ring.

 

GSMS: “Look at the determination in Ash, pulling Stryke out with all his might.”

 

Stryke tries to keep in the ring, but Ash gets him out, nailing him with numerous punches, sending Stryke stumbling back, Ash grabbing the belt out of Stryke’s hand. With the sold out crowd on their feet in cheers Ash charges at Stryke and goes to level him with the belt, but the Australian ducks under, dropping to the floor and lifting the steel chair up as he stands again. Stryke quickly looks to decapitate Ash with the chair, but Ash just ducks under in time, running past Stryke and sliding into the ring! Ash is almost entirely in the ring, but Stryke is just able to turn around and latch onto the foot of Ash, grabbing and pulling for dear life to keep Ash’s feet out of the ring. Ash crawls forward with all his might, but Stryke still has the chair, and jabs the hard edge into the back of Ash’s knee, Ash yelling out in pain and letting go of the belt as pain rises throughout his body.

 

Riley: “Oh thank god, the chair proving the difference for Stryke. We can’t have a Pokemon lover as the Hardcore champ, keep going Stryke!”

 

Ash is left in a very precarious position, and has no defence to Stryke bringing the chair into Ash again, weakening him enough for Stryke to pull him out onto the apron. Stryke tosses the chair away and pulls Ash’s head off the apron, leaving his feet supported up on the apron. Holding him facing upwards, Stryke swiftly twists around and drops down, Ash on the receiving end of a Roll the Dice right onto the ring bell that still sits on the floor!

 

GSMS: “Good god, the Rewind from Stryke, Ash landing face first on that ring bell! From the apron to the floor, Ash must be finished after that.”

 

Riley: “What a move from Stryke, all he has to do now is climb in the ring and grab the belt!”

 

Stryke hops up, very sore from the match, but he puts that out of his mind as he climbs into the ring and grabs the Hardcore belt, the referee calling for the bell as Stryke has both feet on the mat.

 

DING DING DING!

 

“Rock Superstar” hits, Stryke holding the belt up in victory, the elation obvious on his face at being a two-time champ, but the fans don’t care, booing the roof off the building that Stryke has won the Hardcore belt.

 

Riley: “Stryke wins, and he’s a two-time Hardcore Champ! What a win, coming off a hard loss at Crossfire to regroup and defeat Ash Ketchum in a great match.”

 

GSMS: “A hard fought contest by both men, but Stryke comes through with the win. And next Stryke’s partner in crime Chris Wilson will be looking to get a win as well, going up against El Luchadore Magnifico! With the history between these two it should be a heated contest, and it’s coming up right after this break.”

[Guest BA_Baracus]

We return from commercial to find half a dozen playing cards strewn across a small coffee table.  

 

SLAP!  Another one hits the table—and promptly gets slapped away by a finely manicured hand!

 

“Bloody hell!” gawks Edwin MacPhisto.  “Raynor, I don’t know why you won’t play--”

 

“I’m trying to cut back.”

 

“But solitaire—this is awful!  I’m playing against myself, and I keep losing!  Twice at once!  These cards hate me!  Loathe me, even!  Have a rather desperate blood vendetta against my otherwise amiable and affectionate personage!”

 

“Are you sure you don’t just suck at cards?”  The Mac Daddy and Chris Raynor, both off for the evening, look up to the doorway of the Carnival locker room.  “Got a chair for a frustrated freelancer?”

 

“X!” shouts Raynor!  “You big loveable bastard—oops, uh, I didn’t mean bastard, I meant--”

 

Xstasy, golden dreadlocks resplendent, cuts him off with a laugh.  “Don’t stress, Rayn-man.  You don’t have to mince words with us.”

 

“Pull up aforementioned chair, X!” beams a delighted Edwin.  “What brings you here?  How’s Thugg?  Where do you get your hair dye?”

 

“In reverse order,” chuckles X, sitting down next to the coffee table, “it’s custom-ordered from a salon in D.C., he’s still big, angry, and black, and at least getting used to watching soap operas in the afternoon—the big lug seems to have a bit of a soft spot for General Hospital—and, in conclusion…”  X pauses.  “Wilson.”

 

“Oiiiiii, Wilson.”  Raynor takes a drink of the ever-present Carnival Corona supply, and shakes his head.

 

“You know, timing is everything,” mutters Edwin.  “We get you coming back, but we get Wilson back at the same time!  It’s like we got an ugly imbecile and a charismatic legend, but Wilson just doesn’t have the mic skills he used to!”  X throws a heap of cards at Edwin, who barely gets his hand up in time to block.

 

“Cute, Eddie Mac, x-ceptionally cute!  But, all joking aside, we have a problem with Chris Wilson—no, wait, not a problem—an issue!”  X is all business now, brushing aside the scattered cards and addressing the Carnies with import.  “We don’t like the way he’s acting, we don’t like the things we doing, and last of all, we don’t like whatever he’s scheming!  Did you see him follow me into Stubby’s office like that?  Something’s up, and whatever it is, we don’t think it’s a lucky star.”

 

“Calm down, X,” reassures Edwin.  “Wilson is all talk.  He always has been.  Going on about how he made everyone who’s ever had any success in this place—I sincerely hope Magnifico gives him a half-dozen Mexican Pride Presses just for me!  But he’s harmless.  What’s he done so far?  Given Stryke a few pointers?  Tried to call me out at the top of the show, only to get Mac Daddy style word-slinging OK Corral justice thrown back in his ridiculous scowling face?  Chris Wilson’s harmless, X.  He’s been off his game for over six months now, and he doesn’t have the same connections or sway he once had.  We don’t need to worry.”

 

“You sound pretty damn self-assured, mister World Champeen!”

 

“Well, I suppose that’s my sin—this beltish little jobby here does give one a bit of bonus pride—and besides, even if I’m wrong, what do we have to worry about?  Magnifico’s on his way out there right now, and he’s not the Light Heavyweight champion for no good reason!  If there’s anyone who wants to teach Wilson a lesson, it’s him, and I for one will be absolutely satisfied if all I do tonight is sit back in this chair, sip myself a drink--”

 

“Booyaka!”

 

“—thank you, Chris—and watch my Mexican amigo give Chris Wilson a proper Carnival welcome wagon!  It’s all going to be just fine, X.  You give that lug more credit than he or the Offshore Lending Company of Madagascar deserves.”

 

“We sincerely hope you’re right, Eddie Mac.”  Xstasy looks up at the locker room TV to see the commercials winding down.  “In the meantime, Rayn-man?”

 

“Yessuh?”

 

“Would you mind passing us a beer?”  With a grin, X leans back and turns his focus to the television, maybe a little bit more relaxed in this laid-back environment, maybe not, but in any case, eager to see what develops…

[Guest BA_Baracus]

SWF Smarkdown returns from commercial, the camera steadily showing a flashing “SOLD OUT!” sign outside of the Allstate Arena.  It cuts back inside, where an enthusiastic Mark Stevens and very bored Bobby Riley sit at the announcer’s table, ringside.

 

“Welcome back to SWF Smarkdown!” greets Stevens.  “We’ve had one helluva night for Riley and I to get our feet wet as SWF announcers.  We saw a spectacular match between Xstasy and Fallout, a new US Champion crowned and a rematch from the great Hardcore Championship match at Crossfire.  What do you think of this gig so far, Bobby?”

 

“Is it over yet?” yawns Riley, looking down at his watch.  “This is a hoot and a holler, but I’ve got the little lady waiting in the hotel room.”

 

“Oh, I don’t think you’re going to stay that bored for this match,” predicts Stevens.  “These two men, with those men being returning former World Champion Chris Wilson and current Light-heavyweight Champion and Carnie, El Luchadore Magnifico, simply do not like each other.  They squared off on opposite sides of a tag match on Storm, and Wilson’s team picked up the win.  Magnifico is going to be looking for some revenge, and I believe this is the first ever singles match-up between these two.  Should be a great way to cap off a spectacular night of wrestling.”

 

“It is their first single’s competition against each other,” affirms Riley.  “Just because I don’t want to be here, doesn’t mean I didn’t do a little research to show you up.  They’ve gone at in tag matches and of course that main event at Genesis II where Mag defeated Wilson in stigmata-esque fashion for his championship.  I’m going to enjoy watching these two beat the hell out of each other.”

 

“I’ll agree with that.”

 

“UNO! DOS! TRES! CUATRO!”  The crowd leaps to their feet as a Mexican voice shouts over the sound system, each word accompanied by an orange burst of pyro from each turnbuckle. From there, “Mission Trip to Mexico” by Bunch of Believers is blasted through the arena, beginning at the chorus of the song. El Luchadore Magnifico bursts out from behind the curtain as the song begins, waving his flag excitedly as his championship belt sparkles under the lights.

 

”Ladies and gentlemen, it is time for your main event!  The following non-title contest is scheduled for one fall.  First, making his way to the ring…hailing from Mexico City and weighing in at one-hundred and ninety pounds, he represents the Midnight Carnival and is YOUR S-W-F Light-heavyweight champion…El Luchadore MAG-NIIIIIFICOOOOOOOOO!”

 

Magnifico takes time to slap a few fans hands, then slides into the ring, drops his flag, and hops onto the second turnbuckle, where he pumps his fist into the air repeatedly. Eventually, he hops off of the turnbuckle and begins stretching as his music dies down, before staring out towards the stage with a determined look on his face…

 

“Ah……Ah…Ah………Ah……..”

 

The arena is plunged into darkness as low fog floats over the arena, accompanied by a crescendo of hateful boos from the always-testy Chicago crowd…

 

“I am the king of this city, top down, windows up, puffing like diddy…”

 

The crowd continues its negative surge as “Summer in the City” kicks up and Chris Wilson strolls out onto the stage, staring down to the ring at Magnifico, who doesn’t flinch.  Wilson begins to stroll down the stage, black trench coat flowing around him as he strides towards the ring, absorbing the hatred of the crowd as the front row strains out, trying to get a shot at the piece of trash walking down to the ring.

 

“And his opponent…hailing from Miami, Florida, and weighing in at two-hundred and seventy-three pounds….CHRIS WIL-SOOOOOOOOOON!”

 

Wilson reaches the base of the ramp and begins to disrobe, putting his gloves and Ruby Juliet Oakleys into his pockets and begins to hand his coat to a stagehand when Magnifico tears towards the ropes and plunges through with a suicide dive, knocking Wilson to the steel and causing the music to cut out and be replaced by loud cheers as ELM pounds on Wilson, bashing his head off the steel before standing him up and whipping him hard into the steps.  Wilson cringes as his spine meets steel and ELM laces a trio of knife-edge chops across his chest, each eliciting a loud “Woooo!” from the crowd.  ELM grabs Wilson again and throws him headfirst into the ring post, the referee helpless, as the match hasn’t officially started yet.

 

“Magnifico is just taking it too Wilson,” states Stevens.  “He stands up a wobbly evil genius and tries to whip him into the cement barricade, but Wilson reverses and its Magnifico who ends up having his spine crammed forward with the force of impact.  Wilson doesn’t waste any time, grabbing Mag around the back of the neck and driving him headfirst into the ring post.  He starts to stomp him down, hearing boo’s from the crowd as he stands up his fellow wrestler and gives a few chops of his own, still getting “Wooooos” from the very partisan crowd.  He latches onto Magnifico’s arm and prepares to send him back into the barricade, but its reversed and Wilson bounces into the solid cement, security holding back the first row of fans.”

 

“These two are being extremely brutal early on, and I like it,” confesses Riley.  “Magnifico locks Wilson up and lifts him up for a suplex, but instead drops him stomach first over the top of the barricade.  His face twists into an expression of pain as Magnifico slides into the ring and spins towards him.  He stretches back the top rope and leaps up, hopping off the top and catching the beached Wilson with a  springboard dropkick and gaining a loud pop from this crowd.”

 

ELM slides a very uncomfortable Wilson from the top and shoves him into the ring, positioning him parallel to the ropes before hopping back onto the apron and springboarding back in, completing a somersault senton splash across Wilson’s chest…

 

DING DING DING

 

…as the match officially starts, and there is immediately a cover!  ONE…

 

 

 

TWO and only two as Wilson rolls a shoulder off of the mat.  The crowd continues to cheer as ELM jerks him up to his feet and into an Irish whip.  Wilson ducks a high leg clothesline and manages to catch ELM in the air, but the wily Carnie rakes Wilson eyes and back flips down to his feet as Wilson is momentarily blinded.  ELM whips him to the ropes again and takes him down with an arm drag, flipping Wilson to the mat.  He keeps the lock on the arm, pulling Wilson up to his feet and again whipping him into the corner.  He charges in, hopping up on Wilson and jamming his legs into his abdomen and rolling back, tossing him over with a monkey flip.  Wilson bounces right back up to his feet and manages to block a standing dropkick by ELM, dropping the smaller man down to the mat, but only momentarily.  As ELM reaches his feet again, Wilson whips him hard into the corner, nearly falling over himself as he puts so much power into it, then charges in and follows with a spear, rattling ELM’s entire torso with the impact.  He shoves his opponent back into the corner and whips him across the ring to the opposite corner.  Wilson sprints across the ring and leaps into the air, trying for a Stinger splash, but ELM moves out of the way and Wilson is hung up to dry!  As Wilson staggers drunkenly out of the corner, ELM grabs him and crunches him into the mat with a snap suplex.  He quickly coves with a lateral press…ONE…

 

 

 

TWO and only two again as both men bounce up to their feet and receive a loud ovation of approval from the crowd for the fast-paced start to the match.  They begin to circle each other again, each probing for an advantage before throwing caution to the wind and locking up in the center of the ring.  It quickly turns into a test of strength, which Wilson quickly wins and forces ELM down to his knees.  The Mexican grits his teeth and pushes back, regaining his footing but only for a moment as Wilson locks him into a side headlock.  ELM’s bait was taken and he lifts a startled Wilson up with a big backdrop, which sends both men crashing down to the mat.  They pause for barely a moment before reaching their feet again and coming to blows.  Wilson delivers a knee to the stomach of ELM drops an elbow across the back of his head.  ELM counters with a double leg takedown and a swift kick to the abdomen.  Wilson stays down and ELM takes the chance to sprint to the ropes, land on the second one and spiral backwards with an asai moonsault.  Wilson slips out of the way and ELM lands face first on the canvas, before shoving himself up to his feet with both hands.  Wilson doesn’t miss the brief opening as he cinches ELM up in the front facelock before lifting him high into the air and dropping him down on the mat with a towering brainbuster.  ELM twitches in pain as Wilson covers him.  ONE….

 

 

 

 

TWO….and barely that as ELM twists a shoulder off of the mat.  Wilson pulls him up to his feet and forces him into the corner, ramming his shoulder into ELM’s stomach before pulling him out and delivering the exclamation mark, a hard kneecap to the gut.  ELM doubles over and Wilson wraps him up for a gutwrench.  He lifts him towards the sky and prepares for a powerbomb, but ELM wraps his legs around Wilson and rolls backward with a hurricanrana!  He reaches back and grabs Wilson’s legs, pressuring his shoulders to the mat as the official counts again.  ONE…

 

 

 

TWO…

 

 

 

T. and Wilson twists a shoulder off the mat to stop the count.  “These two are really showing off some technical prowess,” praises Stevens.  “Magnifico has retaken the advantage and he plans to use it, dragging Wilson up to his feet and blasting him with some stiff forearm shots before whipping him hard off of the ropes.  Wilson manages to lock his arms around the top rope, stopping his momentum and catching a charging Magnifico with a boot to the face.  Wilson comes at him with a clothesline, but Mag ducks it, leaps up and wraps across Wilson with his entire body, rolling him down to the mat and into a crucifix pinning predicament!  ONE….

 

 

 

 

TWO….

 

 

 

 

TH…and Wilson kicks out, once again having one of his own move countered by Magnifico’s quickness.”

 

“Wilson needs to stop trying to outdo Magnifico and just punish him,” advises Riley.  “He’s got the size and strength advantage while Magnifico’s got the speed, and if he keeps trying this fancy crap it’s going to be the end for him.  Magnifico stands Wilson up and hops over the top rope.  He slips through the middle of the ropes and delivers a shoulder to the stomach, doubling Wilson over before hopping over in an attempt for a sunset flip, but Wilson holds on to the top rope!  Magnifico struggles to complete the roll through, but Wilson stomps down on his stomach and frees himself.  He pulls Magnifico up and tries to whip him across the ring, but Magnifico shifts his weight and reverses it, sending Wilson flying off the ropes.  He tries for a clothesline, but Wilson ducks it and as Magnifico turns around, Wilson grabs him around the neck and drops him hard to the mat with a diamond cutter.  A nasty reversal by the constant thorn in the Carnival’s side.”

 

Wilson rises up to his feet and puts his boot to ELM for a few moments before he can get up, the two men facing each other across the ring again, ELM gently rubbing the back of his neck.  They lock up again, Wilson coming out on top and whipping ELM across the ring again.  As he rebounds, Wilson grabs him under his arms and tries to lift him up for a Sky High, but ELM slides out of it and delivers a hard dropkick to Wilson’s chest that sends him sprawling across the mat.  Wilson gets to one knee, and ELM doesn’t flinch as he takes a few steps and drives another dropkick right into Wilson’s face, which drops him the rest of the way to the mat.  ELM stands him up and slaps on a rear waistlock, the two men jockeying for position.  Wilson manages to get a few stiff elbow shots to the side of the head in, freeing himself before turning to face ELM and driving an uppercut into his jaw.  As he reels back on his heels, Wilson slaps him in another front facelock and lifts him into the air, before crunching his vertebrae with another high-impact brainbuster.

 

Wilson doesn’t go for the cover, but instead pulls ELM back up to his feet and jostles him back into the corner and picks him up, sitting him on the top rope.  He punches him a few times on top before climbing up onto the second rope and trying to lock on another front facelock, but this time a bit higher above the ring.  The crowd cheers loudly for ELM to find a way out, and he does with some hard jabs to the stomach that loosen Wilson’s grip before he pushes him off the top.  Before Wilson can start to climb back up and try for the superplex again, ELM grabs him around the head and pushes up, twisting and swirling down to that mat with a tornado DDT that plants Wilson’s skull at an awkward angle into the mat.

 

Wilson and Magnifico both reach their feet at the same time, and ELM takes the first shot.  Wilson manages to block it and send a pair of right hooks into the Mexican’s jaw before grabbing him and whipping him hard into the ropes.  As he rebounds, Wilson picks ELM up, spins 180 degrees and spikes him into the mat with a wicked spinebuster, drawing “Oooo’s” from the crowd as the ring rattles.  Wilson stands up to a huge chorus of boo’s, ignoring them.

 

“Wilson must be preparing to finish off Magnifico here,” states Stevens as Wilson begins to ascend to the top rope.  “Wilson is making his way up to the top rope, and the crowd is really letting him hear it.  He turns to exchange barbs with one fan in the front row before setting up top…but that distraction leaves an opening for Magnifico, who lunges towards the ropes and shakes them, causing Wilson to lose his balance and drop crotch-first onto the top turnbuckle, and giving this crowd another reason to pop loudly.”

 

“Sucks for Wilson,” declares Riley.  “Magnifico is rubbing his neck, which has taken a lot of abuse this match, before sprinting towards the corner where Wilson is hung up.  He hops right onto the second rope, delivers a harsh head BUTT to Wilson before leaping up, wrapping his legs around Wilson’s shoulders….AND TWISTING HIM TO THE MAT WITH THE FALL OF THE AZTECS!”

 

“That super hurricanrana was the move Magnifico was preparing to hit on Wilson at Storm before Stryke interrupted it with a chair,” reminds Stevens, “And this crowd in Chicago was lucky enough to see it, and they are absolutely on fire.  Magnifico, who took quite a hit from the move himself, rolls over top of Wilson and the referee drops down to cover.  ONE…

 

 

 

TWO…

 

 

 

TH..and Wilson shoots a shoulder off the mat.  Magnifico rolls off of him and tries to push himself up to his feet, and slowly does.  That neck is really bothering it, and our Light-heavyweight champion rotates it, trying to work the kinks out.  It’s not going to be easy with the punishment its absorbed from a variety of Wilson’s move this match.  But that’s not stopping him from doing what he does best: Heading up top!”

 

The crowd rises to its feet in rousing cheers of “S – W –F!” as ELM climbs slowly to the top, his neck still bothering him.  As he coils all of his muscles in a tight crouch, preparing to explode, Wilson quickly gets up to his feet!  Before ELM can react, Wilson charges at him, planting one foot solidly on the second rope as he reaches up, wrapping his right arm around ELM’s right underarm and pushing off with his opposite foot as a confused crowd watches in awe as ELM is flipped off of the turnbuckle with a top rope hip toss!  Both men bounce off the mat awkwardly as Wilson’s turn at a high-flying move causes quite a bit of damage.  Wilson crawls over and hooks a writhing ELM’s leg, holding him to the mat….ONE…

 

 

 

 

TWO…..

 

 

 

 

 

THR…and ELM kicks out, warranting another pop from the sold out crowd.  Wilson sluggishly gets up, the wear and tear of the fast-paced match and high-impact moves combining for a lovely level of fatigue.  ELM forces himself up to his hands and knees, but Wilson drops a double-axe handle across his neck and begins to club him with forearms.  The crowd boos loudly as Wilson pulls ELM up to his feet then slices an elbow across the back of his neck, dropping him right back to the canvas.  

 

“Wilson is really keeping the pressure on,” indicates Stevens.  “Magnifico is taking the abuse like a true warrior, and then some.  Wilson pulls him up to his knees and slips on a full nelson before dragging him the rest of the way up to his feet.  Both men jockey for position as Wilson slips his foot around and tries to sweep out Magnifico’s legs for the Platinum Nightmare, but the wiry cruiserweight manages to slip free and spin around, back-to-back with Wilson.  He locks arm with the taller man, preparing for a backslide, but instead charges for the ropes…he’s looking for the Baja California Crusher!  The crowd is roaring in anticipation as Magnifico scales up to the top turnbuckle and pushes off…but Wilson is holding steady!  He lets out a loud grunt of defiance as he manages to break one arm free and slowly rotate Magnifico in the air.  I can’t believe Wilson has the strength and body control to pull this off, but he is as he finally twists his opponent the entire away around…AND DRIVES HIM TO THE MAT WITH A GANSOBUSTER, FOLDING MAGNIFICO UP LIKE AN ACCORDION!  

 

“Holy hell!” exclaims a surprised Riley.  “I’ve never seen Wilson perform that move before, and I believe it was more out of convenience and necessity than anything.  It sure worked, and now Wilson keeps the dirty Mexican down, pressing his shoulders hard to the mat in the corner.  The referee drops to count.  ONE….

 

 

 

 

TWO….

 

 

 

 

 

THREEEE!  And Wilson wins!  That’ll show you dumb Carnies a thing or two.”

 

The crowd boos loudly, even with a few unhappy fans tossing cups towards the ring until the referee looks over and notices a key factor he happened to miss:

 

ELM’s arms lying over either side of the corner ropes.

 

The referee waves off his call and motions for the match to continue as the crowd erupts into a chorus of cheers just as Wilson’s temper erupts.  He pulls himself up to full height, towering over the official and slapping his hands together three times and pointing to ELM.  The referee shakes his head and lets Wilson know that there was a ropebreak the entire time.  Wilson gives him a big smile…before grabbing him around the collar with one hand and pulling back with the other in preparation for a haymaker, but ELM crawls up from behind and rolls Wilson with a school boy, leaning on him with all 190 pounds as the freed referee gets into position and begins to slap the mat, a capacity crowd on its feet urging him to slap it faster…ONE….

 

 

 

 

TWO….

 

 

 

 

 

THRE…and Wilson manages to break free and twist one shoulder off of the

canvas before the official’s count strikes three.  The crowd lets out a collective moan of disappointment as an obviously hurting Magnifico and a bewildered and weary Wilson both use the ropes to pull each other up to their feet.  They stare at each other, before rushing at each other and colliding in the center of the rings, a flurry of blows landing but even more missing.

 

“What a war these two have been through,” cries Stevens as Wilson’s size and ELM’s injured neck give the advantage to the former once again.  “Wilson clubs Magnifico a few more times just for good measure before whipping him into the ropes and attempting a Miami sidekick, but Magnifico ducks it and Wilson comes up empty.  He spins around on his heels, trying to get on the defensive before –

 

SMASH!

 

…Magnifico can wrap him up in rear waistlock and snap him back over with a German suplex!  He tries to bridge it, but his wrecked body can’t comply with his thoughts and he collapses to the mat.  The crowd is urging Magnifico on, and he kip ups back to his feet and heads towards the corner, pointing at Wilson as he hops onto the top rope.”

 

“I don’t know if Mag has enough left in the tank to finish this thing out,” wonders Riley aloud.  “He’s taken a few brutal moves from Wilson, including that gansobuster which may have been the last straw with that neck of his.  But he’s on the top and he explodes into the air…AND COMES CRASHING DOWN ON WILSON WITH A BIG-TIME FROG SPLASH!  This crowd is still on its feet as the ref drops down and begins to count.  ONE…

 

 

 

TWO….

 

 

 

 

THRE…and Wilson barely lifts his shoulder off of the ground.  That was a close one if you’re a Chris Wilson fan.”

 

“And we all know how many of those are in the world,” snips Stevens.  “Magnifico quickly bounces up to his feet and heads towards the corner again, pulling himself up to the top turnbuckle, looking out into the approving crowd, before spinning around to face the downed Wilson.  He uncoils and explodes into the air, flipping around and looking for the Mexican Pride Press, but he looks down to see the one thing all high-flyers fear:  Nothing.  Wilson rolls out of the way and Magnifico can’t pull out in time and he falls victim to his own high-flying, crashing into the canvas at a high-velocity.  He immediately rebounds up to his feet, trying not to stay down and give Wilson the advantage as he hops up to his vertical base.”

 

ELM stumbles blindly into the corner as Wilson comes up from behind and slips him into a full nelson.  ELM rears back and connects with a head BUTT to the nose and manages to free himself.  He grabs the top turnbuckle and flares back with a double mule kick that catches Wilson in the jaw and rocks him back on his heels.  Before his feet even touch the ground, ELM gathers himself on the top rope and springs backward with a moonsault that Wilson manages to avoid by stepping forward and crouching, but his adversary has enough agility to pull out of the flip and land on his feet.  

 

“These two are just leaving everything in the ring, not holding back at all,” declares Riley as Wilson ducks and avoids a clothesline from behind by ELM.  “Magnifico just missed with that clothesline and Wilson uses his own momentum against him, shoving him sternum-first into the turnbuckle.  The Carnie comes staggering back and Wilson slips on yet another full nelson, this time turning away from the corner and in the same motion, slipping his leg around Mag’s and sweeping them both to the mat…BUT PLANTING MAGNIFICO’S HEAD WITH THE PLATINUM NIGHTMARE!  The crowd is in a riot as Wilson rolls over his adversary and covers him, pulling the leg waaaaay back.  ONE…

 

 

 

 

TWOOOOOO…..

 

 

 

 

 

THREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE……..”

 

And somehow, body screaming in pain, neck nearly broken, Magnifico kicks out of Chris Wilson’s finisher.  We now return you to a very confused and very loud Bobby Riley.

 

“AND MAGNIFICO JUST KICKED OUT OF THE PLATINUM NIGHTMARE!”

 

The pulsing wave of humanity in the stands still hasn’t sat down, hopping up and down and clapping as they cheer El Luchadore Magnifico.  Wilson snaps his neck up and glares at the referee with the eyes of a madman, before dragging ELM up by his hair and slamming him back down to the mat with a stiff scoop slam.

 

“I can’t believe that Magnifico survived the Nightmare,” utters Stevens in awe.  “Especially with the injured neck.  But Wilson is going for the kill and mounting the top turnbuckle.  He doesn’t hesitate this time, and throws himself from the top, spinning for a 450 splash in the air and coming hurtling down towards…Magnifico’s raised knees!”

 

The wind shoots out of Wilson and he collapses to the mat, coughing and sputtering as he connects with the pulled up legs of his opponent.  Magnifico realizes this is his chance and uses everything he has to get up to his feet and stand Wilson up, saying a few choice words in Spanish before whipping Wilson off the ropes.  As he rebounds, ELM catches him with a drop toe, and as Wilson’s ankles bend and knees buckle, ELM’s arms wrap around his face and pull back like the Crossface…

 

“Sangria Stretch!” bellows Riley, as Wilson is pulled apart in ELM’s submission hold.  “The referee drops down and asks Wilson if he wants to give up, and he gives a defiant no.  Magnifico needs to put some more pressure on, but he can’t without torturing his own mangled neck.  Wilson starts to push up on Magnificio’s grip, having a slightly easier time that usual as both men are sweated up.  The Carnie is doing everything he can to keep Wilson down and locked in the hold, but its just not happening…and Wilson manages to slip out of the weakened version of the Sangria Stretch!”

 

“Magnifico really needed to go all out there,” declares Stevens, “but couldn’t because of the torque on his own neck.  He starts to stand up, but Wilson kicks his ankles out from underneath him with a leg sweep.  As soon as he hits the ground, Wilson pounces, entwining their legs together with a double STF and then slipping around a half nelson while Mag struggles to keep out of the full…but Wilson manages to crank the other arm around, locking the Mexican in the vile and deadly Finishing Touches!”

 

“Magnifico is looking for the ropes, but they’re an eternity away on the other side of the ring,” points out Riley.  “Wilson wrenches back, applying even more pressure to that banged-up neck of Magnifico and  this capacity crowd continues to urge him on.  The Mexican’s face twists into a painful grimace as he cries out in pain, trying to find some way to make it to the salvation of the ropes… but the pain is too great and Magnifico is forced to tap out!  Wilson wins!”

 

The crowd roars in a collective boo as the bell tolls and Wilson releases the hold and rises to his feet, arm being held in the air by an overworked and very frazzled referee as Funyon flicks on his mike at ringside.

 

“Ladies and gentlemen, the winner of this..” the boo’s drown out Funyon for a moment before he shouts even louder..”THE WINNER OF THIS BOUT VIA SUBMISSION…CHRIS WIL-SOOOOOOON!”

 

Wilson rolls out of the ring as “Summer in the City” kicks up, grabbing the LHW championship belt and rolling back into the ring.  He stands right behind ELM waiting for him to reach his feet as the music dies down and drops the arena into the buzz of the crowd.  The resilient Mexican slowly does, clawing his way back up to his feet using the ropes, not even knowing that Wilson waits behind him with a solid piece of gold and a bad attitude.  But the crowd’s cries of warning are swapped with a loud ovation as Edwin MacPhisto and Chris Raynor rush down the ramp and towards the ring!  Wilson sees them coming and bails, dropping the belt and slipping through the ropes and to the outside as the SWF Champion and Raynor slide into the ring and begins to help up his fallen comrade.

 

“That’s classic Carnie camaraderie for you,” snorts Riley disgusted.  “Magnifico is lucky Wilson didn’t get to finish him, or his career would be over.”

 

“He’s taken worse beatings than that before,” assures Stevens.  “But not by much.  Wilson just grabbed his coat and his heading up the ramp, laughing maniacally as Edwin and Chris turn towards him, giving a look of pure hate to the man that has attacked both men and their friends for as long as they’d been Carnies in the WF.  Wilson returns it with a twisted smile as he backpedals up the ramp.  Edwin begins to talk to Mag, checking on him, but keeping one unwavering eye on Wilson as he stands at the top of the ramp and gives him a mock salute before disappearing into the back.  Arrogant bastard.”

 

“I’m sure this feud between Wilson and those men in the ring is far from over,” predicts Riley, “But we here at Smarkdown are most definitely over, as we’re out of time.  And thank God for that.”

 

“Well, folks, I had a great time tonight and make sure to tune in for Storm for the fallout from this hot night of SWF action.  For Bobby Riley, I’m ‘Grand Slam’ Mark Stevens.  Good night!”  Stevens stands up and tosses his ball cap to the fans, who cheer loudly at him and the trio of Carnies in the ring as the copyright appears in the corner as a special Tuesday edition of Smarkdown fades into darkness…

[Guest BA_Baracus]

SINGLES MATCH

Xstasy vs. Fallout

- Xstasy wins by DQ in a Fallout produced match.

 

TRIPLE THREAT MATCH FOR THE US TITLE

Annie Eclectic vs. Durandal vs. Xero

- Your winnah and new SWF US champ...Durandal!

 

POLE MATCH FOR THE HARDCORE TITLE

Ash Ketchum © vs. Stryke

- Stryke strikes back!

 

NON-TITLE SINGLES MATCH

Chris Wilson vs. El Luchadore Magnifico

- Damn Wilson beat the damn Carnie!