SJL Metal, June 13th

June 14, 2002

Here we are with another exciting edition of SJL Metal, live from the Cloning Warehouse (?) in Chicago, Illinois! Here one more time for your viewing enjoyment is the card for this evening's show:

Opening Promo

- Danny Williams tells us how special he feels to be the World champion! Or something...

Singles Match

Fugue vs. Impact

- They found it appropriate to no show on Crimson. If they do it again here, I'll kick their ass. Coz I'm tough.

Singles Match

Kojack vs. Cutthroat

- The on again, off again Kojack is apparently back. His first task? Overcome Cutthroat.

TV Title Match

"The Franchise" Mak Francis © vs. Thor

- Some emerging JL talent gets a chance to get his hands on gold very quickly - but, to get that he will have to overcome ameteur wrestler extrodinaire, Mak Francis. It will not be an easy task for either man. Unless of course, Thor makes lightning strike from the ceiling.

European Title #1 Contendership Match

Mike Van Siclen vs. C.I.A.

- These two were pitted against each other on Metal, except then C.I.A. had the, ahem, pleasure, of teaming with Cutthroat. MVS managed to overcome both parties to get the duke. Will C.I.A. be able to overcome his past lost to gain a shot at Frost's European title in the future? Or will MVS continue crying his way through the SJL?

Singles Match

Flexxx vs. Tod deKindes

- Flexxx, prick extrodinaire, takes on the thrashing Tod deKindes in what will surely be an explosive match up. The winner here could see themselves in line for a title shot soon...

MAIN EVENT

World Title #1 Contendership Tag Match

Ced Ordonez/Z vs. Sydney Sky/Frost

- The first pinfall on the opposition gives the person making the pin a title shot. We all know XF9 - surely they could survive this without breaking up and hating each other and throwing cutlery at each other. But, Sydney/Frost could be an entirely different matter. Will Frost's love for Sydney prevent any problems from happening? Yeah, that sounds good. Every is being expected to write their own match.

June 14, 2002

Funyon: Ladies and Gentlemen, The NEW SJL CHAMPION OF THE WORLD!!!!!! "DEATHWISH" DANNY WILLIAMSssssssss

The heavy grinding grooves of Dillinger Escape Plans "Calculating Infinity" blasts over the loud speakers. The smarktron simply says Deathwish in white letters and follows that with highlights of Dannys Indie and New Japan Matches. Danny comes out on to the platform, wearing his recently won world title. He simply looks around, and nods his head to a respectful applause from the crowd. There are a few "boos" as well. He slowly walks to the ring with a focused, no nonsense look on his face. He gets in the ring and snatches the mic from Funyon. Some people in the back start a "Death-Wish!" chant, but the crowd quickly grows silent.

Williams: One year ago, I was written off as a never was. Many said I had the potential to be one of the all time greats, but that I would never live up to it. Not because of an injury or misfortune but by my own choice. Its no secret that I was a drug addict and that I nearly NEARLY pissed away my career. But Don't worry, I’m not going to preach to you, or give you some type of bull inspirational story about how I overcame my addictions. (the crowd pops)

No! The only thing I’m going to say is that nobody gave me a second chance. Nearly every major wrestling federation in Japan and the U.S turned me down. I don't blame them, I didn't deserve a second chance. But for whatever reasons the SJL gave me the benefit of a doubt, and for that I thank you................

Suddenly! Mudvayne's "Dig" violently plays, as the lights go out, and soon flicker back on but the arena is a bit dim. Standing on the entrance way is none other than Insane Luchador with a mic in hand. (the crowd "boos")

IL: I want to thank you too Danny, because you’ve given me the strength and the courage to keep pushing on in the JL. (Insane Luchador says with heavy sarcasm as he laughs at Deathwish’s confused face. )Your not deserving of that title! I AM! And if I don’t get my fucking shot I’ll go on a backstage rampage… I was a controlled Plague, but if I don’t get my shot I will be free and lose to take down the rest of the JL. You will go down as the beginning of the end just because you’re a pussy. (Insane Luchador finishes, waiting for a response.)

Williams: You want a shot at this title. Take a number and step in line. There are four people in the Main Event tonight that are far more deserving than you. I've already kicked your ass twice, but I will be more than happy to do it one more time. I tell you what I’m going to do, at Wrath, it’s going to be me and you, one on one. But its going to be nontitle! If you can beat me, than you get your title shot at Crimson with the number one contender in a three way match! (the crowd pops)

IL: You really do have a Deathwish, see you Wrath. (Insane Luchador starts) The True Plague will strike again! (He finishes dropping the microphone as it “clangs” onto the ground.)

June 14, 2002

We fade in again on a shot of Ben Hardy standing by Fugue. A swelling wave of boos can be heard as Fugue smiles. His black tank top is adorned with a white eighth note symbol. Ben Hardy clears his throat and holds up the mike. "So, uh, Fugue...Do you have any comments about your defeat on Crimson by Thor?" Ben Hardy gestured for a tape, but Fugue grabbed his hand to cut him off.

"Thor?" Fugue blinks and stares off into space. "...Thor?" Then he shakes his head and chuckles. "Oh, I'm definitely not finished with Thor. But tonight--" He turns to smile at Ben Hardy. "Tonight I want to talk about Impact."

"Uh, okay--"

"You see, I've been impressed with what I've seen of Impact." Fugue puts his arm around the shoulders of the increasingly nervous Ben Hardy, gesturing as he stares off into space. "I think Impact has a lot of potential. Even though the melody isn't much, he's got a good rhythm going. So tonight I'm going to give him some lessons. Music lessons."

Ben Hardy tries to surreptitiously squirm from the wrestler's grasp. "Music? What--"

"You see," Fugue continues, tightening his grip into a headlock, "fighting and dancing have often been compared. What we do is a 'dance'--only, dances have neither winners nor losers. Isn't that funny?" He tousles Ben Hardy's hair. "But it's not really about that, anyway. It's not whether you win or lose--it's how well you sing."

And then Fugue pushes his feral grin right up to the camera.

"Tonight, Impact, I'm going to teach you to sing. Start the music."

He tosses the choking Ben Hardy aside and stalks out of the dressing room.

June 14, 2002

The SJL signal returns to television sets around the globe, revealing the announcers seated comfortably at their traditional table as fans scream and try to get into the shot behind them. Axis, Edwin and the Suicide King have started up a card game over the break, peering intently at their hands.

"Any threes?" the King asks.

"Go Fish." Edwin snickers.

Axis puts his hand to his ear. "What--what's that?...Oh!" He blinks and drops his cards, quickly looking into the camera. "Welcome back, ladies and gentlemen, to Metal, coming to you live from the wonderful Cloning Warehouse in beautiful Chicago, Illinois!" The camera takes a moment to pan over the cheering fans, many of which look quite similar to each other. "We've got more action coming right up!" Edwin and the King sigh and begin to straighten up the cards.

Music begins to pulse through the arena--soft heartbeats, as sound waves appear on the SmarkTron. After 7 or 8 beats, a large explosion goes off at the base of the entrance, and "Are You Ready?" by Creed blasts from the speakers. As the explosion fades away, Impact appears on the entryway, making his way to the ring amid the cheers of the fans.

"The following contest is scheduled for, uh, ONE fall!" Funyon booms into his microphone. "Please welcome, from Miami, Florida, weighing in at 210 pounds...IMPACT!" The cheers redouble as Impact grins and waves to the fans, milking the crowd for all he was worth.

"Impact has been showing some good wrestling in recent SJL competition," Axis comments.

The King stares sidelong at him. "But he's mostly been losing."

Edwin sniffs. "It's not whether you win or lose--it's whether you have STYLE!"

"Well, of course YOU'D say that." The King grins.

Suddenly the lights vanish completely, the fans murmuring in the darkness. The eerie chords of Bach's "Toccata and Fugue in D minor" split the air. Then the arena is lit by strobes as the by-now familiar form of Fugue appears, smiling at the crowd as he slinks down the ramp.

"Another great competitor here in the SJL, it's Fugue!" Axis further comments.

"Thank you for that oh-so-necessary update," the King adds.

"And I'm happy to report that Fugue has been losing even more than Impact," Edwin further adds. The King rolls his eyes. Fugue slides into the ring and grins at his opponent, the quickly absconding Funyon, the referee Mike Kivell, and in fact anyone in the vicinity. "At least he's cheerful, though," Edwin says. The words 'Lucky 13' can be seen on Fugue's shirt.

DINGINGING!

Impact begins to dance around his opponent, but then stops as he notices Fugue simply standing, watching him. He looks at the crowd uncertainly, then steps back in surprise as Fugue offers his hand to shake.

"I don't believe it!" Axis says. "Fugue is offering a handshake to start the match! What sportmanship!"

"I don't believe I'm saying this," the King says, "but I agree with you, Axis."

Both the other commentators turn to stare at him. "You do?" Axis asks.

"Yeah. I don't believe it, either."

Ignoring the jeers of the crowd, Impact reaches out and takes Fugue's hand in a firm handshake. There are scattered cheers from the crowd, and then Fugue kicks Impact in the stomach.

The announcers wince. "All those who didn't see that one coming," the King notes. Edwin raises his hand. Both the King and Axis roll their eyes.

Fugue shakes his head with a patient smile and hauls the doubled-over Impact to his feet, then throws him against the ropes. Impact is met with a clothesline, tumbling to the mat. Fugue raises his arms, drawing boos from the crowd, and flips over in a senton--but Impact rolls toward him, out of the line of fire. Both men scramble to get up, trying to ignore their aches as they face each other again.

"Fugue gets in the first blows of the match," Axis says.

The other two announcers stare at him. "First *what*?" the King asks.

Axis fidgets. "Uh--you know. First attacks. Right?"

Impact holds up his hand, wiggling his fingers in the universal gesture for a test of strength. Fugue steps back and puts his hand to his chin, peering intently at his opponent. Impact gestures impatiently with his other hand as the fans laugh and cheer.

"Impact wants a test of strength?" Axis asks. "An interesting strategem by the usually-freewheeling Impact."

"Oh, it's all about establishing dominance," the King expounds. "Fugue taught Impact a little lesson with the handshake, now Impact is showing what he's learned."

"Yeah, you probably know all about dominance," Edwin notes.

"Yeah, I--hey, what?" The King scowls in confusion at his fellow announcer, who attempts to whistle innocently.

Fugue extends his hand slowly towards Impact's...and then whips it down to catch the kick Impact attempted. The crowd roars as Fugue pulls Impact down with a dragon screw, quickly wrapping Impact's left leg in a scissor lock and falling down to extend it beyond natural limits.

"Fugue takes Impact down into his crucifix kneebar!" Axis cries.

"Huh. I thought Fugue was going to work on Impact's arms," Edwin mutters.

"Well, this is actually good strategy by Fugue," the King notes. "Impact is such a high-flyer, taking out his legs will really cramp his style. You'll understand these things, Edwin, if you ever become a REAL wrestler."

Edwin's growls are cut short by the crowd's cheers as Impact drags himself to the ropes. Referee Mike Kivell nervously pulls at the hold, resorting to a five-count as Fugue keeps the pressure on as long as possible. Just before five Fugue releases Impact's leg and darts away, scurrying across the ring to lean back against the ropes. He grins at his opponent as Impact gets slowly to his feet, glaring.

"It looks like Impact is getting fired up!" Axis says.

"He's going to need it," the King notes.

Impact runs forward, catching Fugue off guard with a dropkick. Fugue quickly scrambles to his feet, only to meet a spinning kick to the head. As Impact leans over the ropes and plays to the cheering crowd, Fugue rolls out of the ring. The referee begins counting and Impact hops over the ropes to meet his opponent outside.

"Looks like Fugue is off to take a breather!" Edwin says cheerfully.

"Yeah, but you don't want to be outside the ring with Fugue," the King counters.

Impact kicks his opponent in the shoulder, then follows up with a jumping spin kick. Fugue essays a kick of his own, but his foot is caught by Impact, who grins back at the musician until Fugue catches him with an enzuigiri to the back of the head. The crowd groans as Fugue slips back into the ring, shooting a smile to Mike Kivell before running the ropes. Impact scrambles onto the apron and Fugue attempts a diving roll at his feet, rolling out of the ring as Impact flips over the ropes into the ring.

"Whoa!" Axis whoas. "Fugue looked to be going for a big move there, but tried for that diving roll instead--"

"And Impact was too quick for him!" Edwin finishes.

"Fugue needs to start playing to his strengths in this match," the King mutters.

Impact grins as he stands alone in the ring, jumping up and doing a split in the air before posing for the crowd. He turns to see Fugue slipping back into the ring and darts forward, nailing a kick to Fugue's head before the other man can react. As Fugue spins in place Impact grabs him by the head and jumps backwards, pulling Fugue down onto his back. Fugue squirms away before a cover can be attempted, then sweeps his leg out, bringing Impact down to the mat. Noticing Impact's quick recovery Fugue rolls out of the ring again, breathing heavily as he watches Impact.

"Hmmm, Fugue sure likes being outside that ring," Edwin snickers.

"It's all strategy," the King growls.

Fugue stands outside the ring, rubbing his beard thoughtfully as he watches Mike Kivell count. Impact leans over the ropes and jeers at him, to the delight of the audience. Then he turns and raises his arms, posing for the crowd. The fans' cheers swell, growing even louder as Fugue reenters the ring, creeping up behind Impact. Impact turns slowly, basking in what he believes is the acclaim of the fans before suddenly meeting Fugue's picture-perfect dropkick. Impact stumbles to the ground and Fugue is on him in a flash, once again locking Impact's left leg in a kneebar. Impact flails and quickly makes it to the ropes, but Fugue squeezes every last moment of torque from the hold before yielding to Mike Kivell's exhortations and scuttling back across the ring with a grin.

"See, Fugue's back on that left leg!" the King says triumphantly.

"Yeah, but is that going to be enough?" Edwin counters. "And--hey, is Fugue getting something out of his pocket?"

"Well, I--what the hell?!?" The King jumps as Fugue throws something at him from the ring. The other two announcers try to surreptitiously edge away in their seats as Fugue grins at them. The King growls and leans down, digging under the table.

Back in the ring, Impact gets to his feet, then suddenly sprints forward and launches himself upward and then down in an axe kick. As Fugue reels Impact lands on his feet, then turns to grab Fugue's arm, hoisting him up and back in a Samoan drop. A wave of acclimation builds in the audience as Impact runs the ropes, bouncing off and hitting a flying elbow drop on the prone Fugue. Then Impact grabs a leg--

"One, Two and Fugue kicks out!" Axis cries. "Our first near fall of this matchup!"

The King resurfaces, glaring at the object in his hand. "I don't believe it."

Edwin looks over. "What, you found your monthly bill from Honest Cruella's House of Chains, Whips, Chips and Dips?"

The Suicide King rolls his eyes. "No, you moron. He threw a toothbrush at me. A toothbrush!"

"What?" Edwin blinks, then laughs. "Oh, I get it."

"Yeah, ha ha."

Axis stares. "Uh...I don't know what you guys are--"

"Just call the match, Axis."

"Okay, well..." Axis peers at the ring. "Impact is still in control!" As they watch, Impact hauls Fugue to his feet and then upwards in a vertical suplex, leaning back to send them both crashing to the mat. Fugue staggers upright slightly faster than Impact, but Impact sends Fugue reeling around with a backhand slap, then grabs him around the waist and suplexes him again. "A German suplex, with a bridging cover!" Axis narrates. "One, Two and no, Fugue is up again!" Fugue manages a kick to Impact's left leg, eliciting a groan of pain as Impact limps backwards. The erstwhile musician follows, stalking his opponent with a rictus grin on his face.

"Uhoh," Edwin murmurs. "Fugue looks angry."

"Really? He's smiling," the King notes.

"Okay, not 'angry'," Edwin concedes. "Maybe...'excited'."

"Fair enough."

Fugue kicks out at Impact's leg, and Impact stumbles back against the ropes. Drawing his hand back, Fugue lets a backhand chop fly at Impact's bare chest, the slapping sound echoing through the arena.

"WOOO!" the audience WOOOed.

Laughing delightedly, Fugue suddenly bends down to grab Impact around the waist, flexing backward and tossing him across the ring. The crowd roars as Impact pushes himself to his feet, shaking his head, then roars louder as Impact rushes forward to grab Fugue in an embrace and hurl him backward in turn. Both men stand shakily, eyeing each other across the ring.

"A release Northern Lights suplex and a release belly-to-belly overhead suplex!" Axis cries. "What an exchange! This contest is really heating up!"

"Yeah, you could fry an egg on the mat," the King notes. He blinks as the other announcers stare at him, then he sighs. "Oh, never mind."

Impact runs forward again, and Fugue braces himself. Impact hurls his body in a dropkick towards his opponent, but his feet glance off Fugue's shoulder as Fugue tries to block the attack. Fugue reels as his opponent tries to recover, then lunges forward in his own dropkick, knocking Impact on his stomach. The crowd cheers wildly as both men lie groaning on the canvas.

"An epic battle of, of dropkicks!" Axis emotes.

"Geez, don't these guys have any OTHER moves?" the King gripes. Edwin snickers.

Fugue gets slowly to his feet, swaying gently as he watches his prone opponent. The crowd quiets as he smiles--then erupts again as he flips over in a senton, landing back-first on Impact. Then Fugue catches Impact's arm in his legs, reaching back to grab the other--

"The Minor Chord!" Axis yells as the crowd screams imprecations. "A devastatingly painful maneuver!"

"How much did Fugue pay you to say that, Axis?" Edwin asks.

"Oh, just the standard rate."

Impact groans underneath his opponent, shaking his head as Mike Kivell asks for submission. Fugue's satisfied grin acquires a tinge of surprise as Impact manages to get his knees under him, ducking his head and somersaulting over. Caught off guard, Fugue is unable to keep Impact from squirming out of the hold and moving away. Both men get to their feet, staring at each other from behind long brown hair.

"The tension is incredible!" Axis nervously eyes the crowd as they yell down at the center of the arena.

Fugue leans back against the ropes, then springs forward. He launches himself at Impact with a spinning tackle--but the audience roars and Impact dodges, kicking his opponent as he falls heavily to the mat. Fugue scrambles backward into the corner, aiming ineffectual punches at the steadily advancing Impact. Impact slips behind and jumps to the 2nd rope, wincing slightly at the pressure on his leg, then grabs Fugue in a front facelock and raises his other arm for the crowd.

"It looks like Impact's going for Falling!" Axis yells as the crowd noise builds. "This could make or break this match!"

"So is your money on 'make' or 'break'?" the King muses.

Impact grabs his opponent and pushes off, spinning around--and Fugue suddenly thrusts Impact away from him, sending him stumbling across the ring. Impact gasps and clutches at his leg as he lands heavily, drawing urgent yells from the fans.

"I can't believe it!" Edwin nearly jumps out of his seat. "Fugue countered the Falling DDT, sending Impact onto that already-hurt leg!"

"Which is what Fugue planned to do all along," the King grins.

Fugue shakes his arm, working tension from his shoulder as he walks toward his downed opponent. He pauses for a moment to grin at the crowd and suddenly doubles over as Impact's fist flies upward.

"Impact still has some fight left in him!" Edwin shouts.

Impact quickly gets to his feet and grabs Fugue around the waist, pulling--but his leg buckles, the crowd groaning along with him. Fugue lunges forward and rams Impact against the turnbuckle, then hoists him up to sit on top. Turning, Fugue reaches behind to grab Impact below the arms, holding him up in a crucifix position as he walks away from the turnbuckle--then he suddenly hauls Impact over his shoulder and sits down, slamming Impact to the mat on his back.

"Iconoclasm!" Axis yells over the crowd. "Iconoclasm by Fugue!"

"Oh, no. I can't watch." Edwin puts his hands over his face.

"I can." The King peers intently at the ring.

Fugue stands over the fallen Impact, swaying gently. He smiles to the fans, or maybe just stares off into space as the yells and boos wash over him. Then he turns to the turnbuckle, climbing up to the top rope and turning to face his opponent as the noise increases.

"I've never seen Fugue go to the top rope," the King comments.

"Wait a moment!" Axis shuffles his papers frantically. "Could this be--"

Fugue pauses at the top of the turnbuckle, closing his eyes for a moment to listen to something only he can hear. Then his eyes fly open and he launches himself from his perch, turning over completely in midair, lit by flashbulbs as he lands face-down on Impact. After a tense moment Mike Kivell slides over and his hand hits the mat--One, Two, Three!

DINGINGING!

"The winner!" Funyon booms as Fugue slowly gets to his feet, almost seeming held up by his hand raised in victory. "FUGUE!"

"The Grand Finale!" Axis yells as the crowd roars around him. "A showstopper from Fugue earns the victory for him!"

Edwin whimpers. The King looks at him, then shrugs. "But don't you worry, folks!" he says to the camera. "NOTHING can stop OUR show! We'll be back with more intense SJL action, right after these yummy commercials!" He grins and waves as the signal dissolves to black.

June 14, 2002

The camera fades in to see Sydney Sky staring at a mirror in her private dressing room. Her face is yellow and purple with bruises and her nose is slightly swollen at the bridge as she removes a bandage. She looks at her damaged face and wearily folds her arms across the table and puts her head down. A knock is then heard at the door. Syd raises her head with a start and slowly stands to walk over to the door.

Sky: "Who is it? I don't want to be disturbed right now..."

Frost: (from behind the door) “It’s me Frost. I haven’t seen you since Crimson, can I come in?”

Sky: (in a hurried and frantic voice) "No! I'm …busy. Busy. Preparing…I want to be prepared for our match."

Frost: (with a confident voice, but mixed with gentility) “I would like to talk about our match actually and I'd like to do it face to face.”

Sky: (exhales a light and fearful breath) "Fine, come in." (she turns away with her back facing the door)

Frost opens the door and walks in, he sees Sydney with her back turned and gets the feeling to keep his distance.

Frost: “I wanted to let you know that I am more than prepared to wrestle alone tonight. Not only do I know how badly you must be hurt from the match with Williams, but I know that you have rejoined XF9 and I wouldn’t want a match with Z and Ced to ruin your happiness and friendship with them.”

Sky: "No…I can wrestle. I'm not a quitter…not by a long shot. I think my last match proves that. And I'm not concerned with Ced or Z. We may be stable mates and I respect them as my friends; but we all want the same thing. The title." (she turns around to look at him) "And I wouldn't mind having it back. So I have to at least try.”

Frost takes a deep breath to control his anger and walks up to Sky to put a tender hand under her chin and tilt her face up to his. Syd tries to pull away, but Frost holds her still.

Frost: “Is this what Williams did to you? Is this how he treats the woman I love? The World title might not mean as much to me as my European belt, but I will get Deathwish in the ring and make him pay for what he did to you?”

Sydney knows that Frost is protective of her, but wants to also let him know that she can take care of herself if she needs to. She turns her face from his hand and gazes up into his eyes with her trademark determination.

Sky: "45 minutes of Danny Williams did this to me. I know I could have handled him under normal circumstances. I'm fine...really. It doesn't even hurt (she winces and puts a hand to her battered cheek) much. You don't need to avenge me, dear."

Frost: “I just want to do what is best for you and I know I still have a long way to go before I fully win your love, but know that no matter what you look like, I will love you. No matter what you ask of me, I will do it and love you. Tonight, I stand by you as an equal in that ring, as a partner, and I will prove myself worthy of doing such.”

Sydney smiles at him. She can feel herself falling for Frost more and more each day, and is pretty sure he can tell that she is, which is strangely fine by her.

Sky: "That's big of you, Frost, but you don't really have to prove yourself anymore to me. I think I’m beginning to know who you are."

Frost lets a small smile escape from his lips, probably the first anyone can remember seeing from the Icelandic brute. He dips his head down and regains his stony composure.

Frost: “It does warm my heart to hear you say that and maybe after tonight I can feel that way myself.”

Sydney reaches her hand up and lays it lightly on his cheek. He leans into it to feel the silky feel of her touch.

Sky: "I'm pretty sure that after tonight, you'll feel that way."

Frost leans down and the two burly and bruised grapplers lay their violent ways aside for the merest of instances and share a kiss, that might not be fiery with passion, but is lit with a tenderness of longing and blooming mutual love. The camera fades slowly to black.

June 14, 2002

As the camera turns on Tyler Kinkel can be seen wrapping black athletic tape up to Francis’s forearm, while Francis is soaking his other elbow in a bowl of ice sitting on a table, flexing his hand. It seems to be a pre match ritual. The camera pans out and the members of the sWo are seen conversing with each other. Francis is already in his wrestling gear as Kinkel finishes taping the left forearm and grabs the white athletic tape now re-taping the left wrist. He finishes up with that arm and moves to the other using the white tape on his wrist.

Francis: I never get any respect. That Carnie fool MacPhisto doesn’t respect me. I’m holding a frickin’ belt in his precious federation and he shows me no respect.

Flexxx: Mak he never shows any of us respect. I got a match against that German kid who hardly talks and the fucker didn’t even book Poisyn tonight. He just stole the life from the New Sound…

Poisyn: But he won’t…no can’t take it from the sWo! MacPhisto just plays to the fans trying to hold us down. He’s done it ever since he became commissioner!

Voice: Don’t worry that’ll soon change for all of you. MacPhisto will be dealt with in due time.

Francis: Well I respect you guys. I wouldn’t have been friends with you if I didn’t. MacPhisto has been holding you down all along. I’m proud to be apart of a stable run by the most devious mastermind in the Smark’s Federation history and two men that paved the way in this industry. I’m in the sWo and yet I get treated like some rookie flash in the pan. Z and those X force 9 punks called me the Jobber’s Champ. JOBBER”S CHAMP! Well I pinned him in the ring for the one, two, three! I’m no jobber!

Kinkel finishes up with the green tape over his right wrist and cuts the tape.

Kinkel: Done! Don’t worry about that Mak; those jokers will see like every one else why Wilson, Flexxx and Poisyn choose you for the newest member of the sWo! They can call you green all they want! X Force 9 is dead and Sydney Sky can’t do anything to help that!

Francis: I mean I beat the longest reigning Television Champion in SJL history. SJL HISTORY and they still call me green! I told Taylor Nicholas Thompson that I’d climb the ladder of success and take his gold. I even put my US Amateur Gold Medal on the line and what happened? Huh what happened? And I won that match just like I said. I climbed that cold unforgiving metal ladder and got the gold. ME, ME, ME! But it’s your advice and help that’s gotten me this far and I won that belt for the sWo. That Carnie thinks he can stop the most dominant stable in the SJL. He can HALLELUIAH all he wants but he’ll never beat us.

Voice: Hey kid, you got a match soon right?

Francis: Uh…y-yes sir Mr. Wilson. It’s my first title defense…

Wilson: Since I’m your manager I give you some pre match wisdom. You ready for this Mak. Go out there and tell the fans what you want to say. Then prove it by whoopin’ whoever or whatever will get your fucking point across. This isn’t playtime for you. You’re the TV Champ. Champs don’t walk around the back talking about I hate this and I hate that. That’s the way a green rookie acts and you’re not green. You don’t want to be disrespected by Z or X Force 9 anymore…prove them wrong! You hate the fans…you go out there and say it. Talk down to them, spit on them, and kick them in the teeth if you have to! You don’t like the way Flexxx and Poisyn are treated. You don’t like Eddie MacPhisto…you walk down to ringside and kick his strawberry daiquiri making bitch ass, tell him your gonna do it and talk shit while your doing it!

Francis: Y-Yeah…

Wilson: So you think you’re ready?

Francis: Am I ready…

Kinkel: Are you ready Mak!

Francis: Yeah I’m ready cause I’m the Franchise!

Francis walks out of the locker room as the sWo members look on.

Wilson: Is he really ready Ty?

Kinkel: He went over the tape but I don’t know…

Wilson: Matt, catch up to him cause he forget his shades and coat. Oh yeah and you’re going to stay out there with him. He might need the help. Fletcher you’ll stay here in the locker room with me, so we can discuss your match later tonight.

Poisyn: [jokingly] Yeah I’ll go with the kid…now I’ve got to give him his glasses and coat. [sigh] Why am I the one that has to baby sit?

Wilson: [laughing] Matt, think of him as a protégé you’re supervising instead of an assignment.

Flynn: I’ll go with you Matt.

Poisyn: It’s okay. You should stay here for this one. I need to concentrate on helping him. He’s got the talent to kill this guy but I’m gonna make sure he doesn’t get held down by MacPhisto like we did.

Poisyn picks up both their sWo accessories and runs out of the locker room to stop Francis from going to the ring as Wilson, Flexxx and Kinkel still laugh at Poisyn’s earlier joke.

Flexxx: [still chuckling] Alright Chris, whenever you’re ready.

Wilson: Ty don’t let him lose or I will personally hold you responsible. If he loses that belt this early we may not be able to build him back up. He needs the confidence green or not. Matt will do what it takes to win and you should too. Now get down there.

Kinkel: Yeah and thanks guys. I really appreciate everything you’re doing for him. I think you’re gonna make another star Chris.

Flexxx: We wouldn’t have picked him if he wasn’t worth the chance.

Wilson: Alright. Show these Midwest morons what the sWo is all about!

[Fade to commercial break]

June 14, 2002

Axis: Welcome back and we are ready to start our second match.

SK: The Jacksster is up against Cutthroat.

Edwin: Well Kojack is coming off an injury and looks to pick up a win.

The arena turns dark blue as the solo from One comes blaring out of the speakers. A gold shot of Pyro comes out as the boos arise. Kojack struts down the ring with a mic in his hand and slides into the ring. The music stops as Kojack looks around and seems to be in great shape.

Kojack: A couple of weeks ago, a hurt my knee pretty back. I went through weeks of rehab and came back to tell you that you are all pieces of crap! I didn’t come back for the fans or even for money. I came back to kick some ass if it’s the boys from the back or any of you. so Cutthroat. You can get your ass out of here. Don’t be afraid cause you began as dust and you shall end as dust.

“Whatever” By Our Lady Peace comes blaring out of the speakers and the fans start to go wild. Then Cutthroat. And Claire come out from the back and eye Kojack who is in the ring. Cutthroat. Slides into the ring and both men start circling. They get into a collar and elbow tie-up. Kojack uses his leverage to get behind Cutthroat and lock in the headlock. After a second, Cutthroat manages to push Kojack off and sends him to the ground with a tackle. Kojack is back up and is met with a few rights to his face. Kojack regains the advantage with a thumb to the eye and a few kicks. Cutthroat feels his arm being lifted and then is whipped into the ropes and knocked down by a clothesline. Cutthroat leaps back up and fights away a few punches and manages to land a scoop slam. Kojack feels some hard stomps but quickly rolls out of it. Kojack uses the ropes to get up and just misses an oncoming Cutthroat and sends him to the outside. Kojack stumbles back but regains his balance on the ropes as Cutthroat shakes his head and jumps back into the ring.

SK: Cutthroat seems sluggish!

Axis: Kojack is in excellent shape and looks like he didn’t miss a beat.

Edwin: Some good recovery by Kojack.

Both men square off again and look to go back to mat-style wrestling but Kojack throws a punch and catches Cutthroat right on the chin. Cutthroat staggers back and feels a hard knee. Kojack starts his suplex vest with a simple but effective vertical suplex. Cutthroat crashes into the mat and now feels very stiff boots to the ribs. Kojack has a sly grin as he starts stomping a mud hole on Cutthroat. The crowd reacts in boos as Kojack pulls Cutthroat up as Claire looks on. Kojack throws another punch but its blocked and sent right back. Kojack staggers around and feels the foot of Cutthroat hit his face with a roundhouse kick. Kojack stumbles and bounces off the ropes and feels a sharp kick to the gut. Cutthroat hits his own snap suplex. Kojack feels his knee aching a bit but ignores it. Kojack is pulled up and feels the turnbuckle smash into his face. Kojack staggers back and Cutthroat grabs a hold of him with a waist lock and lifts Kojack into the air. Cutthroat falls back and hits a German Suplex on Kojack and makes a bridge for a pin.

One, Two

Axis: Not yet!

Cutthroat quickly stands up and hits a knee drop right into the heart of Kojack. Kojack feels his breath going away and is stunned. Cutthroat takes full advantage and drags Kojack up and kicks him hard in the gut. Kojack is still stunned and feels the arm of Cutthroat wrapping around his head. Cutthroat falls back and lands a nice DDT on Kojack. Kojack sees swirls and starts as Cutthroat falls down and nails a headbutt on Kojack. Kojack rolls around but slowly gets up. Cutthroat backs up and then dashes to Kojack but is stopped right in his tracks and is lifted up into the air. Kojack releases him in the air to complete a picture perfect Belly-to-belly suplex. Cutthroat feels the momentum changing as Kojack works on the stomps. Cutthroat turtles up but feels a sharp kick to the spine that sends him screaming. Kojack gets down and starts mounted some punches until the ref peels him off. Kojack shakes the ref off as Cutthroat slowly stands up. Kojack laughs out loud and does a little shuffle. Cutthroat feels anger building in him and charges Kojack and nails a shoulder in the gut. Kojack is now stunned as Cutthroat sets up for a big move. Cutthroat takes a few paces back and then goes full speed and extends his arm. The Razor Punch connects as it is heard throughout the arena. Kojack stumbles around and is hit with a nice clothesline. Kojack quickly springs back up and is met with sharp chops. The crowd goes wild but then is suddenly silenced as Kojack hits the low blow kick when the ref wasn’t looking. Kojack smiles as he hooks Cutthroat up with a German Suplex. Cutthroat feels the back of his head crashing the mat and is woozy but feels another one courtesy of Kojack. Cutthroat seems like he can’t take anymore but is lifted but for another one but this time is released in mid-air for a released German Suplex. Kojack crawls over to Cutthroat and hooks the leg.

One, Two, Th…

Axis: NEAR FALL!

SK: Nice suplex by Kojack.

Edwin: That gots to hurt.

Kojack goes back to work and gets behind Cutthroat and hits a T-Bone suplex. Cutthroat can’t take anymore and rolls out of the ring. Cutthroat looks the leave but Ashes in the fall kicks up as the sWo comes out. Kojack shakes his head and leaves the ring and goes through the crowd but Cutthroat charges the stable but is disposed easily. They are equipped bit mics and appear to speak but is faded to a commercial.

June 14, 2002

"Ashes In The Fall" by Rage Against The Machine blast over the PA System.

Axis: What the hell?!

MacPhisto: What the hizzie, they’re not scheduled to be down here!

Poisyn and Mak Francis walk out from behind the curtain dressed in long, black, dark trench coats, and the sWo’s traditional black dark glasses. Poisyn walks to the left side of the stage while Francis walk to the right.

BAM! BAM! BAM! BAM! BOOOOOOOOOOOM!

Four short bursts of sparks lead into a large pyrotechnic explosion that erupts in the center of the stage. The two sWo members raise their hands in a respectful salute to Chris Wilson leader of the sWo.

King: Apparently two of Wilson’s troops are down here to get a point across. Let’s hear what they have to say. I know it’ll bring a tear to my eye.

As soon as King says this the two sWo members run down to the ring apparently to lay waste to Cutthroat and Kojack. Tyler Kinkel walk out and down the ramp following the two sWo wrestlers, who are now in a full sprint.

Francis slides into the ring first as he and Poisyn assaults Cutthroat with numerous stiff punch that back him into the corner. A surprised Kojack starts laughing at the beat down his opponent was receiving. Francis leaves Poisyn alone to deal with Cutthroat as he and walks over towards Kojack who leaps out of the ring. Meanwhile Poisyn hits a stiff martial arts kick to the rib cage and follows it up with a springboard hook kick that drops Cutthroat to the bottom buckle in the corner. But Poisyn’s not finished as sWo member runs out to the center of the ring and sprints back hitting a sliding dropkick.

Poisyn drags the downed Cutthroat to the center of the ring and picks him up to his vertical base while Francis gets behind him, bending down and lifting him onto his shoulders. Poisyn grabs the head of CT in a 3/4 neck breaker on the way down as Francis executes an Electric Chair drop causing Poisyn to nail him with a great impersonation of Flexxx’s “Twisterfuck” Stunner. Francis and Poisyn talk some trash but Cutthroat’s still trying to get up.

Axis: This is just blatant disrespect for everything the SJL stands for.

King: And I must say I’m loving it. Stick it to the man sWo!

MacPhisto: How did you ever become a deputy commissioner?

Mak hits a kick to the now standing Cutthroats gut and places him into position for a Powerbomb while Poisyn climbs to the top rope. Francis lifts Cutthroat into the air as Poisyn jumps from the top rope, landing a mid-air judo kick to the back of his head knocking him to the mat.

Axis: So now they have hit the Bronco Hangtime and Wave Velocity from when this stable was called the New Sound. These are despicable two on one attacks and I’m sure Wilson’s grinning like an idiot in the back.

MacPhisto: These arses are ruining my show…again. And it’s all your fault.

King: What can I say? I have a soft spot in my heart for pandemonium and mayhem in the SJL. I think I may soil myself!

Axis: Wouldn’t be the first time…and Cutthroat’s up to his feet again after that viscous Wave Velocity. He’s fighting a losing battle but even thought he’s being double-teamed he hasn’t given up. Kojack has already gone up the ramp so there’s nobody left to help the Extremist.

MacPhisto: Cutthroat showing great will and determination, as he won’t stay down. I’m proud of him for showing some heart and standing up to these miscreants.

King: Pfft. He doesn’t know any better. He should have just stayed down and taken his beat down like a man. Then the sWo wouldn’t have had to do this.

Francis picks up Cutthroat in a powerbomb position as Poisyn grabs the neck of their opponent for a neck breaker. Kinkel slides in the ring and points at the two men as they get ready to hit The Final Sound but Cutthroat punches away at the face of Francis.

Axis: He’s still fighting-

But Francis and Poisyn drop him anyway causing a sickening THUD to be The Final Sound heard!

Matthew Kivell, Anthony Michael Hall, Eddy Long and Sexton Hardcastle come down to ringside but they’re a little too late to save Cutthroat.

MacPhisto: He didn’t deserve that at all. Somebody needs to get the raid can out on these two cockroaches and the new and improved X Force 9 with former SJL World Champion Sydney Sky behind them are my choice.

King: X Force 9, Schmx Force 9! I think you just got a problem with Wilson. Why don’t you just go into a corner and cry about it? Everybody needs a good cry Eddie Mac!

The two sWo members push Cutthroat out of the ring as Kinkel steps through the ropes. All the referee’s except for Matthew Kivell leave helping Cutthroat, who tries to walk under his own power to the back while Poisyn asks Funyon for a mic and hands it over to Kinkel.

Kinkel: Chris Wilson sends you all a Hello Chicago Illinois from the back!

Not surprisingly the crowd pops in approval.

Axis: Wilson’s such a disingenuous asshole

MacPhisto: He’s stealing my cheap pop, even when he’s not here!

King: Shaddup the both of ya! Let them talk about how Wilson’s making them special.

MacPhisto: Yeah cause Wilson made everybody in the SWF right? He’s Unbelievable!

Axis: I think he invented wrestling also, like a certain super hero we all know and love-

MacPhisto: He was Cyclone Comet!?

Kinkel: Yeah, Hello Chicago Illinois. Home of the woeful Chicago BlackHawks, “Steroid” Sammy Sosa and lest we all forget your Chicago Bulls.

Boos and Asshole chants rain down from the rafters.

Kinkel: I spoke with the one and only Chris Wilson and he has ordered that this man lay waste to whoever or whatever is in his path. To whoever or whatever thinks they can get away with disrespect of the sWo. That started with Cutthroat today and will never finish until the sWo gets the appreciation they deserve. X Force 9 had the nerve called him an old, washed up, broken down and wasted former champion!

The fans laugh and taunt the already upset Kinkel with a X Force 9 chant that echoes throughout the arena proving the fans love for the stable.

Kinkel: Whatever. They said that about the man that created all the stars in the SWF! He made that Federation! And what about two veterans that paved the way in this industry? All you fans can do is mock them. You dared to provoke us when that weakling Z called Flunkmasta Flexxx and Poisyn, two overrated jobbers who haven’t won squat! That’s just ridiculous!

The fans start a “You’re a jobber” chant that rattles Poisyn. Poisyn asks Kinkel to hand him the mic.

Poisyn: Shut your fucking mouths! I tried to give you a new revolution but no matter how much Flexxx and I tried, you wanted more. We gave you peons our all and what did it get us. We were held back. Given a match with only low blows and I didn’t even get a match for Christ’s sake. How dare you disrespect us? How dare you disrespect Chris Wilson? How dare you disrespect the sWo! We won’t let you fans or you Edwin do that same thing to this guy.

Poisyn points to Francis and hands the mic back to Kinkel as he walk to the side of his student. The fans begin a “Green as grass” chant.

Kinkel: Learn some respect or they’ll come into the stands and beat it into you!

Francis smirks but still looks a little nervous as the fans continue to chant.

Kinkel: And then there’s this man right here beside me. Your Television Champeen. The man that defeated the longest reigning Television Title holder in the SJL. I don’t know how many times I have to stress this. And you ridicule him…call him green. He toiled for you people in the NCAA for four years. He won matches for each and every one of you throughout half of his life but he’s not worthy. Now you cheer against him for a two win rookie that’s greener than the mold on his own teeth. That won’t be tolerated. NOT AT ALL!

Kinkel hands the mic to Francis who paces about the ring waiting for the crowd to calm. They finally do and he brings the mic to his lips to speak.

Francis: I said I’d win the SJL TV Title because it was just a perk of being me…”The Franchise” Mak Franchise. The sWo member who’s soon to be kicking somebody’s godly ass. Thor, you get your seven foot lanky ass down here. You may be a God of Thunder but once you get into this ring, you’ll get your ticket punched, just like all the others for concussion junction, one way courtesy of Mak Francis and The Franchise Tag.

Francis drops the mic waiting for his opponent Thor to come out.

June 14, 2002

The lights go black and a blue spotlight shines on the entrance. The opening chords of KISS-God of Thunder blast on the speakers.

CRACKDOOM!

A lightning bolt strikes the entrance ramp and it fills with smoke. The man that's know as Thor, steps through the curtain making his way through the smoke from the lightening explosion. He walks down the ramp rather stoically, high-fiving some fans.

Funyon: This match is scheduled for one fall and is for the S-J-L Teeelevisiiionnn Championship! The challenger making his way to ringside weighing in at a monstrous 345 pounds…from The Gleaming Halls of Asgard…The Celtic God of Thunder…Thorrrrrrr!

Francis, Poisyn and Kinkel all slide out of the ring and talk things over while Thor stands in the ring soaking up the cheers.

Axis: This seven foot 345 pound monster enters the ring and the all powerful sWo bail out of the ring-

MacPhisto: Like a bunch of cockroaches.

King: If by cockroaches you mean the only force on the earth that will last through a nuclear winter then yeah!

Axis: It’s pronounced nuclear moron. Anyways the SJL rookie Thor has come to claim his prize for defeating both newcomers Fugue and Impact in a triple threat match. A SJL Television Title shot. This Colossally Gigantic Celtic God sports an array of power moves that have vaulted him to a 2-0 record. After some prompting from Poisyn and Kinkel, Francis slides back into the squared circle.

DING! DING! DING!

Axis: And this SJL METAL match-up for the Television Title is underway!

Francis circles about Thor trying to gain some sort of advantage over the hulking God. Finally Francis gives up and goes in for a collar and elbow tie-up, promptly get shoved half way across the ring and onto his ass. Francis looks to Poisyn and Kinkel on the outside but they can only shrug.

Axis: Thor holds the definitive advantage in size and strength and he’s proving it here by shoving the sWo member around. He's just on a whole nother level in those categories!

King: But the Mak attack has the speed advantage and skill in my opinion. No matter how many flips and cruiser weight moves this behemoth can pull off.

MacPhisto: I still can’t believe I saw him do a rolling summersault senton splash.

Francis gets back up to his feet and yells to Kivell that his hair was pulled even though it’s cut short. Kivell admonishes Thor and Francis claps in approval while the fans yell obscenities. Francis and Thor circle again and they come together in a collar and elbow tie-up. Thor pushes the lighter man into the corner and breaks the tie-up to deliver a knee to the gut of Francis. Thor works the smaller man over in the corner with a barrage of back elbows to the ear that leave Francis in a daze. Then he drapes Francis’s arms on opposite sides of the turnbuckle and lays into him with a chop to the chest.

WHOOOOO!

And another chop echoes throughout the arena causing the same reaction from the SJL fanatics.

WHOOOOO!

Francis grabs the arm of Thor and pulls him forward causing the two combatants to switch places. Francis takes his turn at chops now hitting Thor with a cutting knife-edge!

BOOOOOOO!

Thor just looks on as a second viscous chop occurs.

BOOOOOOO!

And Francis having a look of shock on his face goes for one more knife-edge hoping against hope that it’ll stun the big man.

BOOOOOOO!

Finally Thor takes control back and grabs Francis by the throat with both hand and executes a choking toss sending him into the center of the ring.

Axis: This Thor is looking more and more impressive with each minute this match continues. Taking control of this match-up in a godlike manner.

King: Please Mak’s just setting him up!

MacPhisto: For what? A SJL Television title reign!

Francis stumbles to the corner and signals his two new mentors as Thor gets instructions from Kivell about choking. Kinkel walks to the other side of the ring while Francis and Thor go to lock up. Thor would have once again taken advantage but this time Francis spits in the face of the God causing an irate crowd to jeer him with a “Greener than grass” chant. Thor looks visibly upset and as it’s not the best idea to piss the God of Thunder off, Francis ducks out of the ring causing Thor to give chase. Thor chases Francis around the ring for hitting him with the projectile fluid.

Axis: Blatant disrespect by the TV Champion. It makes me sick to even call him that. Why would you spit in a guys face?

Seeing his cue Kinkel hops up onto the mat garnering Matthew Kivell’s attention screaming like a madman. While this is all going on Poisyn slides into the ring poised to attack the now clueless Thor and he slides back into the ring after Francis now on his knees and in prime position to take…

TWHAP!

King: Well obviously to rope a dope Thor into that scintillating super kick by Poisyn. They executed that perfectly with Kinkel getting the Kivell’s attention and Poisyn laying down the hammer! Up high, down hard…BOOYAH!

MacPhisto: No more stealing flowery catch phrases. The only “TNT” we respect here is Taylor Nicholas Thompson.

Kinkel sees this and gives up his nonexistent argument dropping back to the outside. Francis lays down over the God of Thunder and Kivell drops to the mat starting a count…

One…

Two…

Axis: And a strong kick-out by Thor as he literally throws Francis off of him. It may have been a good plan but they’ll need more than that to put the God of Thunder down.

Francis and Thor both get back up to their feet but Francis is the first man on the attack with a textbook dropkick to the knee of Thor effectively taking him down. Francis sensing that this is a great opportunity hooks his leg with Thor’s and bridges over backwards hooking his left arm and chin pulling them up. Thor finally feels some real pain, as Francis is just barely able to complete the hold on the mammoth monster.

Axis: A Three Quarters Nelson and Inverted Indian Death lock combination by Francis has give him control of this match-up. But he can’t really lock it in because of the size Thor has on him.

King: Look at the amateur background shinning through. And he cheated just milliseconds before. I knew Mak would be a somebody. He’s making me so proud.

MacPhisto: Francis had two courses of action after that cheap trick to gain him the advantage. He could have picked up the tempo because he is faster than Thor or worked over his opponent to bring the big man down. No matter how much I dislike the sWo I have to admit that this kid Francis knows how to wrestler. He’s still green but he knows how to wrestle.

The fans chant for the Thunder God to break the hold and Thor is able to power out, shattering the hold because of Francis’s lack of leverage. But everyone in the arena can tell damage has been done to the right leg and shoulder of the Norse God. Francis lays boots to the body of Thor as he slowly but surely gets to his feet enticing the crowd to start a “God of Thunder” chant. Francis decides to slow the big man down by locking on a side head lock. He grinds Thor’s face into his bicep but Thor succeeds in getting to his feet and takes control with one elbow to the gut, which seems to have the effect of three, causing Francis to release the headlock. Thor bounces of the ropes and comes back at Francis with a vile lariat almost beheading the Franchise. Thor goes for the lateral press as Kivell slides into position and…

One…

Two…

Axis: And a pretty weak kick-out from Francis at two.

King: That was a big lariat but if I were in the ring I would have dodged it.

MacPhisto: Squishy, squashy. Thory’s like a giant bloody can a Raid…who are our sponsors by the way. Orchin Man be damned! Raid kills bugs faster just ask Mak Francis. He’s feeling the effects right now.

Thor picks Francis up to his feet and tosses him into the corner with a Irish whip. The big man slowly paces over there while Poisyn and Kinkel try to give directions over the crowd noise. Thor comes at Francis with a smooth European uppercut that lifts him from his feet. The Norse God whips Francis into the opposite corner and runs in hitting a Avalanche Splash on his opponent cause “oh’s” from the crowd. Thor attempts to whip Francis once more into the opposite turnbuckle but Francis gets the better of him this time with the dreaded poke to the eyes. Kivell warns Francis about the illegal blow but Francis just waves him off and goes to town on the big man with straight right hands to the face. Francis grabs Thor in a front waist lock but no dice on the overhead belly-to-belly suplex because Thor is just too heavy. Thor goes for an elbow to the head of Francis but misses, as the quicker man ducks behind his opponent no longer holding the waist lock. Suddenly Francis gives Thor a forearm to the left kidney that dazes the big guy. Francis slides beside him and deposits him on the mat with a Side Russian Leg Sweep. “The Franchise” goes for the cover hooking the near leg as Kivell hits the canvas.

One…

Two…

T-

Axis: And a kick-out by Thor. A good showing by the number one contender so far.

MacPhisto: Look at Francis he’s going for the cover again.

One…

Two…

Axis: And a kick-out again.

Tyler Kinkel from his spot at ringside tells Mak to cover him again and this time he just barely receives a two count. Francis looks a little flustered as Poisyn starts to yell at him to calm down and ground the big man. Francis does as he’s told and locks on a Japanese arm bar around Thor’s right arm. The only problem is the God of Thunder is too close to the ropes and reaches them. Kivell goes to his mandatory four count but Francis doesn’t break the hold until Kivell grabs his arm. Kivell forces Francis to back off allowing Thor the time to get to his feet.

MacPhisto: He’s baacck!

King: Please haven’t you been enough of a shill for today?

Axis: Francis has really seemed to slow down the pace of this match but was that the wise thing to do. A slower match plays right into the big mans strength.

Francis rushes in to take the God of Thunder down again but hits a big boot to the face of “The Franchise” almost decapitating the sWo member. Poisyn and Kinkel look on in horror as Thor lifts the 220 pound Francis from a front face lock into the air. It seems like an eternity until Francis is sent crashing back to the canvas from a stalling vertical suplex dropping his opponent parallel to the ropes.

King: He isn’t really gonna do this is he?

MacPhisto: Looks to me like he will!

As unbelievable as it may seem Thor rebounds off the far ropes and rumbles forward in a rolling summersault senton splash but-

Axis: The cheat Poisyn pulled him out of the way. He saved the title right there! The sWo has no morals at all.

King: You would too if you had been held down by this tool!

MacPhisto: I resent that remark. I have never held anyone down.

Axis: Francis and Poisyn are talking on the outside and you remember what happened the last time the did that.

King: Sure do and I enjoyed it thoroughly!

Francis finally ends his conversation with his sWo mentor Poisyn and slides back into the ring. Francis taunts the Norse God almost egging him on for a punch in the mouth. Thor is happy to help and takes a swing but is counter by the deadly low blow, which Kivell misses somehow and then Francis locks on the Japanese arm bar to Thor’s flailing right arm again. This time he hooks the arm in between his legs and reaches back grabbing the leg of Thor.

King: What time is it! Tequila time!

Axis: Francis has hooked on a single leg crab with an arm bar to focus on the two previous areas he’s attacked. They had a plan all along. Take out the right arm to stop the power moves and take out the right leg to slow the big man down even more!

MacPhisto: But can they execute?

King: Seems to me that they are executing just fine, thank you very much.

Thor still have the size advantage is able to reach the ropes quickly and Francis breaks the hold fast so that he can land vicious elbow drops to the neck of Thor while he lays belly first on the mat. Because he’s tied up in the ropes Francis is forced to back off by Kivell but that just leave Tyler Kinkel open to give the God of Thunder potato shots to the face.

Axis: I don’t even think cockroaches would go as low as these men. The sWo will do anything to win.

King: I don’t think they’d love the cock like MacPhisto does! That’s where they draw the line in the sand.

MacPhisto: Please I’ve heard enough cock jokes to last me a lifetime.

Francis comes back behind the down God of Thunder and lifts him up to his vertical base, which is no easy feet. Francis sensing the end is near drops him to the mat with a neck breaker hanging Thor’s neck about his shoulder. Kivell moves into position for the count and…

One…

Two…

Th-

Axis: No! He got the shoulder up. Thor’s never say die attitude is keeping him in this fight.

MacPhisto: Thor really needs to shift the momentum in his favor right now!

King: Like that’s gonna happen!

As King says those words Francis and Thor are going toe-to-toe trading right hands, which is not a good idea for Francis. Francis gets knocked to the floor by a over powering right hand. He scampers to his feet again only to befall the same fate. This time as he gets back to his feet he expects a right hand and is poised to block it but instead he receives a super kick to the chops for his trouble.

King: NO, NO, And NO! I can’t believe it!

MacPhisto: Believe it buster. “The Crown Prince of Flash and Panache” knows all and sees all. I’m like Chris Berman. Swami extraordinaire.

Axis: Ah give it a rest Edwin. You just guessed! Thor picks Francis up and an Irish whip to the TV Champ…no reversed by Francis…and Thor comes limping back, leapfrog attempt by Francis…and he’s caught in mid air by the Thunder God…but Francis fires back with right hands…and is dropped to the mat anyways in a Powerbomb. Thor goes for the pin hookin the leg…

One…

Two…

Three…

Axis: No! That cockroach just crawled out from under Thor and got the shoulder up.

King: I don’t think they’ll appreciate you calling sWo members cockroaches. The only reason Thor was able to hit that was because his bad leg slowed his return up so much that it threw of Mak’s timing on the leapfrog.

MacPhisto: Never mind the fact that he tried to leapfrog a seven foot almost 350 pound man!

King: What Mak’s athletically gifted. He could do it. I know I could!

Thor is like a house of fire and he grabs Francis by the head and picks him up on his side drives “The Franchise’s” back into his knee. Thor tosses Francis off of his knee and limps over to the turnbuckle. It’s taking him a little while but he goes outside the ring briefly to climb to the top rope.

Axis: Are we going to see the Crack of Thunder a big time elbow from the top turnbuckle that has been known to shake a ring.

MacPhisto: Squash the bug like a pancake!

King: Kinkel…Poisyn…somebody do something. We can’t have a gimp god as our TV Champ!

Kinkel tries to rush over and push Thor off the top rope but he doesn’t get there in time as he soars through the air causing a cascade of camera’s to flash. He comes crashing down to the canvas...

BAM!

King: Oh my god, he killed Mak, you bastard!

Axis: But Poisyn got Kivell's attention. This is ludicrous!

MacPhisto: You mean the rapper. Where, where? His lyrics only rival my own! I’ll bust out a few for you-

Axis: Your offbeat shenanigans are even too much for me today.

King: Mak’s gonna lose…

Kivell finally turns around to check on the combatants and sees the pin fall attempt by Thor.

O-N-E…

T-W-O…

T-H-R-E-E!

Axis: HE GOT THE SHOULDER UP! He kicked out off a elbow drop from a 350 pound man.

King: Go Mak! I never lost faith in you.

MacPhisto: You just lost faith in him two seconds ago.

King: Did not!

MacPhisto: Did too!

King: Hey penal colony reject, tell him I never lost faith in Mak. That be sacrilegious!

Axis: Both of you shut up. May I reiterate that he kicked out off an elbow drop from a 350 pound man!

MacPhisto: But even after the interference it seem like a slow count from Kivell...

King: You’re politicking for a faster count on Mak already. But you can’t hold him down the sWo won’t let you. Plus, only people in superb condition can kick-out of moves like that. In fact during my SWF World Championship reign I kicked out of many similarly painful moves.

Thor starts to bang his hand on the mat a little in shock of what this mere mortal has just done. He goes over to the official asking him if he’s sure it was two. The fans obviously agree with him because a “Bull-Shit” chant breaks out. Francis is up to one knee by the time that they get done talking so Thor moves in for the kill. He picks the broken Francis up to his feet and lifts him up above his head military pressing the 225 pounder once for a Gorilla press slam but his right arm gives out allowing Francis to wiggle free and float over top hooking on a cobra clutch.

Axis: Million Dollar Exception, Million Dollar Exception, Million Dollar Exception!

King: Calm down J.R. We all see the move. Well, that’s all she wrote for Thor.

MacPhisto: Not quite. Francis is dangling off of Thor and that leaves him wide open for-

Thor backs into the ropes and drives the Franchise’s back into the turnbuckle causing him to release the hold. Thor stumbles away gasping for air while Franchise quickly recovers and runs right behind the God of Thunder placing him in a waist lock.

Axis: Can Francis get the big man over?

And after one failed attempt and dodging a few back elbows the answer is yes. Francis powers a 350 pound man over in a really ugly looking German suplex. Francis stands up attempting to do rolling German suplexes but Thor blocks.

Axis: He's trying to get him up for another one!

Thor starts to fight free but Francis repeatedly pounds the back of his neck with stiff right hands causing his opponent to weaken. He grabs Thors' left arm and pulls it across his body with his right hand. Then he grabs Thor’s right arm with his left hand and pulls it in between Thor’s own legs. Francis uses everything he had left to suplex Thor, dropping him directly on the back of his neck.

Axis: Oh my God! A Japanese Ocean Suplex. "Crossroads" by sWo member and SJL Television Champion “The Franchise” Mak Francis.

King: Hop aboard the train to concussion junction Thor! He’s just another clip on the Francis’s Smarktron entrance!

Kivell gets into position and makes the count as the fans boo with all their heart.

One…

Two…

MacPhisto: Kick out damn it!

THREE!

Axis: NO WAY! HE GOT THE SHOULDER UP! THOR GOT THE SHOULDER UP!

King: I’d be a little upset now. Francis killed Thor's already injured shoulder with that move but he still kicked out. Time to go back to what works!

Axis: And that is…

King: Cheating of coarse!

MacPhisto: No amount of cheating can stop Thor. He’s destine to get the SJL Television Title. I can feel it!

King: No that’s just the bean burrito you eat before the show.

MacPhisto: So that’s what that is.

Poisyn and Kinkel look around in shock as Francis rolls to the outside of the ring. He doesn’t even have to huddle with the to men as he goes straight for his TV Title. Francis grabs the title and rolls back into the ring stalking the man that kicked out of “Crossroads”.

Axis: I knew he’d try and pull this. He’s gonna get himself disqualified.

MacPhisto: What a cheap out. We’ve been calling him a bug but he’s lower than dirt.

King: What don’t hate you two. Those are the rules. Champ holds onto the belt in cases of disqualification. You have a problem with that then you get the rule changed.

Francis lines up a shot to the head of the now out on his feet Thor, while the ref tells him he’ll be disqualified. Francis rushes in but drops the belt as Thor has him in a one handed choke. Kinkel rushes to the mat and grabs Kivell by the shirt doing anything to distract him while Poisyn slides through the ropes.

King: Cheating at its finest. Executed to near Suicide King perfection.

Francis gets lifted into the air but a combination of things cause Thor to drop him. The searing pain in his arm and a kick right square in the nuts, that causes him to double over.

Axis: And Thor takes another cheap shot from this new revolution member Mak Francis. You can tell already that Poisyn’s wearing off on him.

Francis waves over Poisyn and the two men each hook on front face locks. The two men each cradle a leg and lift the 350 pounder up above them and drop to the canvas crushing what once was Thor cranium.

MacPhisto: DOUBAFISHAMANBUSTA!

Axis: Puro mark! How can you cheer at a time like this?

MacPhisto: Sorry I got caught up in the moment.

King: Do you hear that sound? It’s claxon of the waahmbulance. Thor just got his ticket punched one way for concussion junction courtesy of the Mak Francis and Poisyn. The sWo is rising from the ashes like a Phoenix and nothing will hold them down!

BOOOOOOOO!

King: The impact was unmistakable! Boy this kid is a human highlight reel!

Kinkel finally lets Kivell go after Poisyn gets out of the ring. Francis drapes an arm over the prone body of Thor as Kivell turns back around.

ONE…

TWO…

THREE!

DING! DING! DING!

BOOOOOOOOOO!

Funyon: The winner of this match and still your SJL Television Champion…sWo member ”The Franchise” Mak Francis.

Francis and Poisyn after he re-enters the ring stand over the fallen big man and step on his chest while Kinkel gets a mic and gives it to Francis. Francis waits for the crowd to calm down.

Francis: Eddie Mac, the Carnie loved by the crowd. No matter who you book me against or how big and bad they are the sWo will always triumph!

PFFFFFFT!

MacPhisto: This match was a ludicrous display of everything wrong in the SJL. And I’ll fix it some how! Wilson will pay for screwing with my league. Go to a commercial RIGHT NOW DAMN IT!

June 14, 2002

*** We cut to the SJL's catering table, where backstage employees are scattered around, conversing and exchanging road stories and whatnot. Even Cutthroat is seen fixing himself a sandwich. Poor sap that he is, he can't help dropping a spot of mayo on his shirt. ***

CT: Aw, man…My new shirt!

*** He sulks off, trying to wash out the white stain on his snazzy shirt…Mere moments later, the table gets another visitor in the form of former World champion Sydney Sky. Although she appears bruised and battered from her grueling Ironman Match from last Sunday, she still has her charm and all around beam shining on her. She stops at the coffee machine and switches it on, all while throwing polite hellos at the stagehands nearby. ***

Syd: Hey guys.

SH#1: Hey Syd!

SH#2: How ya feeling?

Syd: Oh, a little banged up, but I'll get over it.

SH#1: Well, you take care of yourself then.

Syd: Thanks.

*** While the two techs walk off, headed to their assigned tasks, Sydney affairs herself at fixing a coffee. She quietly leans on the table, looking at the coffee machine as its gurgling sounds signal that it's almost done. She grabs a handy styrofoam cup, ready to pour herself the hot concoction, when a voice startles her from behind…***

"Hey Syd…"

Syd: Oh. Hey Tod.

---

*** As Sydney twirls around to observe her mysterious suiter, the screen abruptly cuts to a separate room in the arena. A close up of a single light bulb freely dangling from the ceiling is displayed, as the camera slowly pans to the left, where SJL superstar Frost himself sits in a wooden chair. Frost leans over, as his hulking muscles involuntarily flex, grabs a lace from his footwear, and begins to tie his… ***

---

*** The camera once again joins Tod and Sydney, who converse lively, Tod in mid-sentence… ***

Tod: …shoes. Those are nice ones you’ve got on…

Syd: Oh, thanks Todski.

Tod: Soooooo…what’s up?

*** Something seems different about Tod. He's not in his usual focused and intense mood. He actually seems to...care. ***

Syd: I'm aching all over. I lost the World title. How do you think I'm feeling?

Tod: Yeah, sorry to hear about that…(slips shades back on, sliding them up to his forehead) You gonna be all right?

Syd: Yeah, don't worry about me. I've seen and felt worse. Believe me.

*** Though still unsure what's up with the sudden social contact from the German One, she tried her best to carry on a polite conversation. ***

Syd: So… um ...What’s up with you?

---

*** Sky is interrupted however, as again Frost is shown…now working on his other shoe. An echoing scraping noise rings throughout the room, as Frost directs his attention at the entrance way…where a black figure is… ***

---

Tod: Residing up in Canada right now actually. But as you know wrestling practically forces you to go places, see things, and so on. Listen, Syd…have you ever made some choices in life, but you weren't sure of the consequences?

Syd: What do you mean?

*** Sydney looks a bit taken aback by the question. He paused for a few seconds, making sure to carefully think of what he's gonna say…But then he decides to just say it. ***

Tod: It's about Frost.

---

*** The lights eerily flicker on and off in a arbitrary manner, as Frost observes his surroundings… ***

“Who’s there?”

“Watch…me…explode…”

“What? Oof!”

* CRACK *

“Hehehehehehe…(singing slowly in a haunting manner as footsteps are heard exiting the room) Frosty the snowman, was a very…”

*** As the haunting tunes fade out, the lights, on cue, flicker back on to reveal a bloodied Frost, laying on the ground, baseball bat a mere foot away, his head crushed in like a… ***

---

Syd: Pumpkin that Frost is…he’s really a sweet…

Tod: Just so you know…I've dealt with him in the past. He's not what he's making himself out to be. He's cold. Heartless. He takes pleasure in the pain of others. Like it or not, something's gonna happen to *you*. He's NOT to be trusted…

*** Almost taking offense to the remark, she plops down her coffee and turns towards Tod. ***

Syd: Look, I don't know where you're getting this from; but this man you're describing does NOT exist! Frost is a sweet, compassionate and caring person! And for you to just accuse him like that, it's ridiculous!!

*** Tod sees that he won't have much luck getting through to her for the time being. It's obvious Sydney is quiet head over heels now. ***

Tod: All right…But just so you know. I've seen this sort of thing before…TOO often. And you may not realize it for now…but I'm not about to let it happen again…Auf Wiedersehen.

*** Tod leaves from whence he came, leaving Sydney to scratch her head, pondering the meaning of Tod's words. Sky shrugs off Tod’s words of wisdom however, as she exits through a door marked “FROST.” As her petite body immerges into the depths of the room her faint voice can be heard... ***

Syd: Frosty? Frosty, where are you snowcone? Where…FROST!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!? Oh my God! Frost!

As Sydney’s screams of shock echo throughout the arena, the camera cuts to a commercial.

June 14, 2002

The commercials over, once more SJL Metal is live, on the air, a crowd scan starting things off. As always, the cameras show off the very best of the in crowd signs, at least one pertaining to the upcoming match. ‘This sign’s just six words long’, ‘XF9 – title shot’s on the line!’ and ‘C.I.A.’s the M.Eh?.N.’ make up the cream of the crop.

The cameras make their way once more to the terrible trio, all looking psyched for the upcoming contest. Then, the view expands as the camera draws back, showing SJL superstar TNT seated at the end of the table as well. Axis begins to speak, looking over towards the explosive one as he does so. “Ladies and gentlemen, we are back from commercial, and during the break we were joined here at the announce table by TNT, the current number one contender to the European title. The winner of our next match will hold an identical right for the belt, so this match must be of great interest to him.”

King sighs, shaking his head and looking over towards TNT. “Let me handle this.” Glaring, King turns his gaze on Axis. “This match is an INSULT! TNT hasn’t even had his shot, and these two are both fighting for a spot he hasn’t even had the opportunity to vacate yet? I blame this whole thing on Edwin. What WERE you thinking, you British loon?”

Smiling, as always, SWF title belt strapped around his upper chest like some sort of superhero logo, Edwin gives King a big smile, chuckling a bit. “Why King, I was merely thinking that more was merrier. Frost and TNT are great competitors, and I’m sure they can handle another man coming to the dance. That is, King, unless you’re insulting our guest?”

With that, King’s eyes go wide as saucers, and he turns to TNT, who is glaring at him, expecting an answer. “No, umm… I mean, of course he can handle it! I wasn’t insinuating that… umm… Edwin called you stupid, TNT!”

TNT glares at King for a few seconds more, before turning to Edwin, gaze exuding hatred. Finally, Axis breaks the silence, speaking up. “And this match should be a tremendous contest. Neither man giving up anything to the other, matched completely size for size, this should present some interesting chemistry. Both men also employ a fairly high impact ring style, and seeing how they mesh should be intriguing, to say the least. Let’s go to Funyon!”

In the ring, Funyon smiles out at the crowd, more than happy to show off his brand new tuxedo, looking like it’s fresh off the discount rack at the dollar store. Raising his mic up high, Funyon’s voice is about to ring out, when suddenly…

The pumping beats of "Light Me Up" by Cassanova 419 begin to echo throughout the arena as the lights go down! The crowd roars in expectation of the SJL superstar about to walk down the ramp…

"Come on, come on, come on, LIGHT THAT FUCKER UP!"

BOOM!

A shower of white pyro goes off atop the entrance ramp as it illuminates a figure atop the entrance ramp, arms outstretched in a "come-and-get-me" gesture. A blue spotlight shines upon him as he struts down the ramp, fans booing and jeering the amazin’ one.

Funyon’s voice rings out as MVS makes his way down the ramp, resounding throughout the packed crowd. “Ladies and geeeentlemen! The following match is scheduled for one fall, and is a European Title contendership match! Making his way to the ring, first, from Harrison, Illinois, and weighing two hundred and thirty seven pounds, The amazin’ one, Mike Van SIIIIICLEEENNN!!!

Van Siclen slides into the ring, ignoring the hail of boos cascading down upon him. The view stays on MVS as his music continues to play, but Edwin’s voice rings out clear. “There he is, a man who attacks his opponents backstage, whines about getting no recognition, and doesn’t even seem to realize how much everyone hates him.” As Edwin ceases talking, two responses come at him, King and TNT speaking simultaneously. “Good for him.”

Back in the Ring, Funyon raises his mic once more, but is quickly cut off as the music rises up, entire arena attaining a dim red glow as the SmarkTron alights with that patriotic image, the Canadian flag waving in the breeze, and two familiar words ring out. “Oh, Canada….”

*BOOM* The pyro explodes, rising towers of sparkling red fire shooting up from the stage, and all the lights in the arena brighten, bathing everything in a warm red glow before returning to their standard brightness and colour. The fans explode with cheers as the familiar strains of ‘Secret Agent Man’ ring out, and they see, in the entryway, C.I.A. standing proud. Both arms raised in the air, Canadian flags hanging down, the secret agent man seems to have a microphone in hand, which he immediately puts to good use. “Ladies and gentlemen, of Chicaaaaaago!”

The crowd cheers aloud again, as C.I.A. continues without missing a beat. “Greetings, from the frozen north! I hope everyone’s enjoying an ice cold Canadian beer tonight, and that you’re all prepared for a grade A, one hundred percent, Canadian ass whooping! Tonight, I get a chance at a title shot! It’s so sublime! Now let’s rhyme! What’s my line? Oh, yeah.” Throwing back his head, C.I.A. finishes his spiel to a monumental pop from the crowd. “MVS, your ass is MIIIINNNNEEEE!!!!”

Shrugging off his jacket, microphone falling to the floor, the Canadian rushes the ring, sliding in under the bottom rope, only to be met with a hard kick to the head. The bell rings, and the match is underway, the amazin’ one putting the boots to his foreign foe. Leaning down, MVS grabs a handful of his opponent’s hair, tugging him harshly to his feet, whipping him across the ring.

Axis begins to call the action as it happens. “The Amazin’ one drawing first blood here, propelling his opponent across the ring, And, like him or hate him, you’ve got to admit the SJL’s very own Canadian import has serious style. The fans here love him!”

Rebounding off the ropes, the masked Canuck sees MVS charging across the ring at him, and falls off his feet, kicking out hard, boots crashing into Van Siclen’s knee in a hard low dropkick, both men crashing to the mat. C.I.A recovers first, tugging his opponent up to his feet. Lashing out, C.I.A. catches MVS with a hard left to the jaw, then an even stiffer right, stumbling MVS as he looks to be setting up for a roaring elbow. He begins to spin around, but the amazin’ one’s hand flies up, tugging hard on C.I.A.’s hair, and jerking his body back down to the mat with a crash. The fans jeer as MVS rubs his jaw in pain, and begins kicking out hard at the throat of the downed agent, ignoring Eddy Long’s admonishment.

“Well, now, that’s what I like to see. A magnificent technical counter by my pick for this match, Mike Van Siclen, as he quickly halts the offense of his buffoonish opponent, that damn Canadian. Kick him HARDER, MVS!” King seems to be basking in the moment, as Edwin shakes his head. “He pulled his hair! It was cheap, and lousy, and not very technical at ALL, King!” Edwin suddenly halts as he feels a hand on his shoulder, looking back to see the looming form of TNT. “It worked, didn’t it? And in that ring, your goal is to win.”

Back in the ring, Siclen continues to kick hard at the head and neck of C.I.A., getting off six or seven before leaning down to tug his masked opponent fiercely to his feet, once more jerking the hair hard, pulling him into a front facelock. Rearing back, he looks to be going for a DDT, when suddenly C.I.A. locks hold of the top of the amazin’ one’s tights, rearing back and lifting MVS up overhead, dropping him to the mat with a hard back body drop. The fans cheer aloud, and C.I.A allows his body to fall back, striking with a quick elbowdrop, which crashes across the throat of MVS.

“Now there’s a technical counter to be proud of, and C.I.A. isn’t letting up on the assault.” Axis seems happy, till King cuts in, interjecting his view of the situation. “What? He had the tights! That should be a disqualification. I had the tights in a lot of matches, and they never let ME win that way! What kind of talent do you have working here, who so blatantly cheat?”

King’s objections not withstanding, the action continues in the ring, the Canuck tugging MVS to his feet and beginning to whip his opponent across the ring. Van Siclen spins around, reversing the whip, and sends C.I.A. across the ring instead. C.I.A. rebounds hard, extending his arm to try to clothesline MVS. He misses as his opponent sidesteps, and continues across the ring, bouncing off the opposite ropes. Heading towards MVS once more, the Canadian leaps off his feet, both arms raising overhead, but his luck fails, as the amazin’ one catches his throat in both hands before he can strike. The Canuck’s feet barely touch the ground before MVS hefts him up, lifting him in a fierce chokehold. Eddy Long immediately begins the count as C.I.A kicks and writhes, but before the count can reach two, Van Siclen drops C.I.A’s chin into the top of his skull, savage jawbreaker sending the Canadian back to the mat, gripping his face in pain.

Edwin hops up in his chair, pointing towards the ring. “An illegal chokehold! I wonder if MVS can stop cheating and try to WRESTLE a little bit in this match!” Beside Edwin, TNT chuckles aloud. “Looks effective to me. That do-gooder is writhing in pain, and MVS is on his feet.” As Edwin sits back down grumpily, Axis nods his head. “Much as I hate to admit it, TNT has a point. But this match has been all back and forth. Can Van Siclen keep control?”

MVS takes a quick step forward and hops into the air, extending his leg. Coming down hard, the amazin’ one’s leg crashes across the downed Canadian’s throat in a powerful guillotine legdrop. Coming to his feet, MVS smirks as he looks down at C.I.A., who is holding his throat in pain. Striding across the ring, the amazin’ one rebounds off the ropes, rushing back across the ring just as C.I.A. recovers his footing, standing up and turning towards the running MVS. Unfortunately he is a second too late to do anything to stop Van Siclen as he is crushed back to the mat with a powerful spear. Rolling through with the impact, MVS hits the ropes once more, bouncing off and coming down hard with an elbowdrop across the throat of C.I.A. Rolling across, Van Siclen hooks the leg, and Eddy long slides to the mat, beginning to count the pinfall.

ONE!

.

TWO!

.

Hard Kickout by C.I.A.!

At the announce table, King fumes. “Clearly this C.I.A. just doesn’t know when he’s outclassed! It’s a travesty that he’s forcing MVS to punish him this way.” Laughing a bit, TNT seems quite happy with the kickout. “Look at it this way, King. The harder these two fight, the easier it will be for me to tear them apart. These two aren’t in my league. Basically, they suck, I rule, they lose, I WIN.” Axis nods, bringing the commentary back to the action in the ring. “MVS really keeping the pressure on, and he gets a two count with our first pinfall attempt, showing C.I.A. is still in this one.”

Coming up to his feet, the amazin’ one drags his opponent up as well, positioning them both in the center of the ring. Rearing back, MVS slams his fist into the jaw of his opponent, throwing three hard punches before running back to find the ropes. Rushing at his staggered foe, MVS throws out his arm for a clothesline, trying to floor C.I.A. once more. The masked wrestler ducks his body, reaching out and snatching MVS overhead, slamming him to the mat with a fierce powerslam. Both grapplers are down, and Eddy Long begins his count, as Axis continues his sizzlingly charismatic play by play.

“The Amazin’ one going for a clothesline, but he’s snatched off his feet by C.I.A, hard powerslam taking both men to the mat.” Edwin smiles, sitting back in his chair. “Well, Kingy, it looks like this match is a lot like our hatred for each other. Though it may sway, occasionally, it just keeps rolling along, you egocentric, overrated jerk.” Smiling widely, King looks right at Edwin, and speaks in his most sarcastic voice. “Why thank you, you idiotic, imbecilic lackwit.”

While the announcers continue their friendly bickering, Eddy long reaches five in his count, just as MVS rolls over on the mat, beginning to come to his feet. C.I.A. is close behind, and before the count can reach seven, both men are standing tall. Neither man moves at first, instead staring at each other, until the amazin’ one swings out, trying to connect with a punch. C.I.A. blocks the fist, having to repeat quickly as MVS swings out with the other arm also. Both arms entangled, C.I.A tosses his upper body forward, head crashing into Van Siclen’s own skull, staggering him back. The Canadian follows this up with a right, then another, and another. Drawing his fist back, the masked man looks like he is going to continue his assault, until MVS thrusts out, jamming his thumb into C.I.A’s eye. The crowd boos aloud, Eddy Long admonishing Van Siclen on his illegal tactic, even as the Canadian grips his face in pain and turns away.

“Foul play! MVS is losing control of the match, so he resorts to underhanded tactics to re-take the advantage. This is ludicrous!” Edwin looks like he is ready to leap out of his seat. King chuckles, finding the whole thing tremendously enjoyable. “Sit down, you buffoon. This is what any good heel does. And I applaud him. He KNEW Long wouldn’t call the DQ for a simple thumb to the eye, and it takes the fight out of that masked moron. MVS is SMARTER, it’s that simple.”

Shoving Long out of his way, Van Siclen takes a step forward, next to C.I.A., taking his opponent around the shoulders, and sliding one foot around his leg. He leans his weight back, but C.I.A. swiftly frees his foot, ducking out of the hold, and rolling around behind Van Siclen’s back, hooking the same move himself. MVS drops down to the mat to escape the move, using the position of his foot to lock on a drop toe hold, sending C.I.A. down face first.

Axis is the first to speak, as always on point with a technical break down of the match. “MVS going for a downward spiral, a favorite move of the Amazin’ one, but also used, as a finisher by C.I.A. He reversed, and went for his own version, the Via Rail, but MVS dropped low and took the Canadian down with a drop toehold. These two men are perhaps too well matched, seeming to know each other’s moves, and that means it’ll be near impossible for either man to hit that move on the other.” TNT laughs, listening to what Axis has to say. “Which means these two chumps beat each other a bit more before I have to take one of them out? Perfect.”

MVS looks at the downed C.I.A., idea apparently forming in his mind. He goads the Canadian as he watches him coming up to his feet, striking his opponent’s ribs with two hard kicks as he stands. Finally fully to his feet, C.I.A turns towards MVS, only to have the amazin’ one reaches out and takes hold of his arm, twisting it around his neck and dropping him in the center of the ring with the blackjack neckbreaker. Coming up quickly, Van Siclen stomps the downed Canadian once, twice, and then runs towards the ropes, leaping up onto the second rope and rebounding with a high springboard moonsault.

“MVS hit his Blackjack neckbreaker, and, as always, uses it to segue right into the Double take! He’s looking to put it away right now!” Axis is standing in his seat, as are many fans in the stands, wondering if this will spell the end of the matchup. These fans brace themselves, but suddenly erupt in cheers as the impact occurs, Mike Van Siclen hitting nothing but mat. “And he misses! C.I.A. rolls out of the way, and Van Siclen finds the mat hard! My goodness, these two have been pounding on each other, and have taken a tremendous amount of damage to the throat and chest! C.I.A.’s rolling over, and he has the leg!”

In the ring, Eddy Long drops down to count, hand slapping against the mat.

ONE!

.

TWO!

.

Kickout by MVS!

Edwin and Axis sigh in disappointment, while King and TNT sigh in relief. All four men take a look at each other, before Edwin resumes the commentary. “That’s the second pinfall attempt of this match, and MVS kicks out just after two. Both these men clearly want that title shot, but the advantage so far would have to go to Van Siclen, who’s showing just how sadistic of a weasel he is!”

Taking a moment after Van Siclen kicks out, C.I.A. takes hold of the back of his head, looking to Eddy Long and holding up two fingers, questioningly. Long nods his head, raising two fingers in return, and C.I.A. comes up to his feet, tugging MVS up as well. Taking MVS in a wristlock, the Canadian shoves him back a step, jerking him back into a hard shoulderblock, crashing into the amazin’ one’s chest. He does this again, and again, three stiff shots, and quickly follows up with a harsh knee, driving into Van Siclen’s gut and doubling him over. Quickly hooking a front facelock, C.I.A. throws himself back hard, drilling Mike’s head into the mat. Rolling over, he hooks the leg once more, and Eddy Long drops into place to count the pinfall.

As the ref’s hand smacks against the mat, King is out of his seat. “No! You had this match in the palm of your hand!”

ONE!

.

TWO!

.

Kickout!

Sitting down in his seat, King tugs at his collar, laughing nervously. “Heh, I knew he was gonna kickout. Surely that simp C.I.A. can’t keep down a fighter like MVS.” Across the table, Edwin has a smirk on his face, and he rolls his eyes once. “Why don’t you get yourself a stress ball or something, it looks like that vein in your forehead is about ready to burst.”

Rolling out of the pin attempt, C.I.A. comes up to his feet, kicking out at the chest of MVS, following up by dropping a knee across his opponent’s upper body as well. Taking hold of the amazin’ one’s wrist once more, the Canadian whips him hard at the nearby ropes, lashing out with a fierce thrust kick that catches MVS just under the chin after he rebounds off the ropes, sending him back and over the top rope, tumbling to the outside. Taking a moment to catch his breath, C.I.A watches as Van Siclen begins to recover on the outside, Long counting.

ONE!

Axis seems to really be getting into the action of the match as his familiar voice calls the shots for those who might have turned their attention. “C.I.A. really keeping the pressure on Van Siclen now. (TWO! Following a few hard shots to the body, the Canadian tosses him to the outside, and (THREE! both men take advantage of the count to recover.”

FOUR!

TNT chuckles and nods his head, happy to add his two cents on the situation. “Not a bad display, even if it’s clearly not up to the level (FIVE! of a superstar like me, TNT. Both men focusing their attacks on the upper body, which can only be good for me. (SIX! With any luck, they’ll have internal injuries, and it should be simple for my own glorious self to destroy them in the ring.”

By now, MVS has made it to his feet, tugging himself up to the ring apron. He looks up over the ring apron, ducking to the side just quick enough to avoid the feet of C.I.A., attacking with a baseball slide. Grabbing hold of the Canadian before his feet touch the floor, MVS swings around, sending C.I.A.’s back crashing into the steel steps, and rols back into the ring. Eddy Long begins counting again, but only gets a few seconds in when C.I.A. tugs himself up into the ring, coming up to his hands and knees. Van Siclen takes quick advantange, dropping an elbow across C.I.A.’s back and sending him fiercely back down to the canvas. Dropping down, Van Siclen buries his knee in the back of C.I.A.’s neck, not letting up the pressure even as Long begins to count.

“Beautiful! Van Siclen knows that C.I.A.’s chest and neck have to be screaming in agony. A true heel ALWAYS attacks his opponents weakness, whether or not what they’re doing is technically legal!” King seems gleeful, as he eggs Van Siclen on. Edwin, on the other hand, seems outraged. “I can’t believe this King! Both men have put on an impressive display this match, and MVS lowers himself to cheap shots? It’s deplorable!”

MVS ignores the fierce booing of the crowd, lifting his weight of off C.I.A. only once the count reaches four, just long enough to drop his knee across the back of the Canadian’s neck again. The booing increases, and MVS smirks, lifting C.I.A. back to his feet. The cameras catch a shot of C.I.A.’s face as he coughs and hacks, blood gathering at the corner of his mouth. Smiling, the amazin’ one whips his opponent across the ring, telegraphing what looks like a back body drop, though the announcers know better.

“This has gotta be it! That buffoonish Canadian looks to have internal injuries, and MVS is setting up for the Van Slaminator! I hope he knocks him right out of this league so I never have to hear that annoying voice again!” King is standing in his seat, but Edwin is quick to respond, assuming a ‘valley girl’ voice as he replies to King. “Like, let a REAL champion speak, King. It’s totally not over yet. And like, say it, don’t spray it next time, cha?”

Rebounding off the ropes, C.I.A. is hefted into the air before he can recover, body flipping over as MVS holds his legs to keep him from flying all the way. His body slides down the amazin’ one’s back, and it looks like he’s going to be taken down by the power of the Van Slaminator. All it takes is one mistake, however, and Van Siclen hesitates, holding the Canadian for a half second too long, allowing him to wriggle free and hook his opponent’s legs, pulling him down to the mat with a sunset flip. Eddy Long drops to the mat and starts the count.

ONE!

.

“A brilliant reversal by C.I.A., as the amazin’ one’s hesitation costs him!” Axis’s voice rings out.

.

TWO!

.

Edwin raises his voice, cheering the Canadian on. “Looks like this may just be one more for the good guys!”

.

.TH….. NO! Kickout by MVS!

King sighs in relief, glaring at Edwin. “Sit down, Lack-Phisto. MVS is showing his superiority right now. He didn’t hit his move but he’s showing why they call him the amazin’ one!”

Coming to his feet, C.I.A. does not hesitate, crowd cheering on his every move as he tugs the sinister MVS to his feet, fists smashing into the face and throat of Van Siclen, over and over. As the crowd begins to count along, C.I.A. seems to get a rush of energy, punching harder and faster till the crowd reaches seven and the amazin’ one is almost backed into the corner. Hooking his opponent’s wrist, C.I.A. whips across the ring with all the power he can muster. The crowd roars as Van Siclen goes crashing into the corner, chest slamming into the top turnbuckle. The amazin’ one stumbles back a step or two, and C.I.A. comes up behind him, hooking both his arms in a half nelson. Lurching back, the Canadian grappler lifts his opponent overhead, sending him crashing down into the center of the ring with a powerful half nelson suplex, body bouncing with the impact.

“The fans are on their feet in the cloning warehouse tonight for a hell of a contest, and it looks like we may be coming up on a spectacular finish right now!” Axis cries out, trying to convey the excitement. TNT chimes in, and proves himself somewhat apt at commentary. “Both men have been trading some powerful blows, and the way this match has been proceeding, the question has to be, can he follow it up?”

In the ring, C.I.A. rolls over, coming up to his feet, gaze finding Van Siclen still down in the center of the ring. Rushing to the corner, the Canadian quickly mounts the turnbuckle, reaching the top and looking towards the crowd. Throwing both hands into the air, the crowd rising in their seats in anticipation. Legs tensing, C.I.A’s weight shifts, and it only takes a second before he is flying through the sky, cheers deafening, camera flashes blinding. In mid-flight, C.I.A.’s body twists, upside down, and then, suddenly, twisting just a bit to the side, his elbow extended, he comes down, sailing towards the mat. In the span of a second, it is over, harsh impact echoing out as C.I.A. crashes down, bouncing from the impact, which is lessened only slightly by the body cushioning his landing. Before the amazin’ one’s cry of pain is even over, C.I.A. has the leg, and Eddy Long’s hand is sailing down towards the mat.

ONE!

.

Edwin and Axis are out of their seats, the man known as the leader of the midnight carnival, the current SWF champ, and the SJL commissioner the first to speak. “Air Canada! That’s the first time we’ve seen C.I.A. connect with that impressive maneuver, and it looks like that’s what it’s going to take to finally put down the amazin’ one!”

.

TWO!

.

King is next to speak, outrage in his voice. “No! There’s no way that beer swilling, imbecilic foreigner can win this match! MVS has to kick out!”

.

THREE!

*Ding* *Ding* *Ding*

The match is over, both men unmoving. Eddy Long helps C.I.A to his feet, raising one of the Canadian’s arms in victory. The camera shifts, showing a shot of both the victorious C.I.A. and the downed MVS, both men looking tired and beaten, both bleeding from the mouth, tremendous damage sustained during the matchup. It shifts again, showing TNT, no longer seated at the announce table, instead standing on the ring apron. Celebrating his victory, C.I.A. turns to see TNT, one hand extended for a handshake.

Axis’ voice rings out; clearly happy with the way this match has ended. “A spectacular finish to a hard fought match, and no matter the winner, both of these men deserve praise for their performances. It looks like TNT agrees, on the apron to congratulate the winner, C.I.A., a man who will go on to fight for the European title!”

In the ring, C.I.A. eyes the larger man with distrust, crowd crying out, begging him not to take the hand. Hesitating a moment, C.I.A. finally reaches out, clasping the hand of TNT, shaking it firmly. TNT smiles, and suddenly, the explosive one uses his grip to tug the Canadian onto the apron. As the crowd boos, TNT pulls C.I.A. into a standing headscissors, swearing out at the fans. Lifting C.I.A. up onto his shoulders, TNT turns towards the outside of the ring, the fans and two thirds of the announce table pleading with him not to do it. Not hesitating, Thompson throws the Canadian’s body down and forwards, slamming him down to the mats outside the ring with a vicious powerbomb.

As the fans boo, Edwin yells frantically into the mike. “Someone get some medics out here! Damn that TNT, so afraid for his European Title shot that he’s willing to stoop this low!”

King laughs, reveling in every moment just as TNT does, even though the fans are currently pitching garbage and foul epithets at him. “He’s so SMART, is what you mean, the way he’s protecting his investment! You two can scream and whine all you want, but that man is just about vicious enough to be your next European Champ!”

As King continues to laugh, TNT finally leaves Ringside, smiling at the paramedics as they rush by him down to the ring. Coming to the stage, TNT turns about to watch C.I.A. strapped onto the gurney, finding a microphone. Looking out, he raises the mic to his lips. “C.I.A. just watched… me… EXXXPPPLOOOODDDDEEEE!!!!!! HAHAHAHA!!!”

The cameras cut to Axis as the crowd roars in disapproval, the Australian play by play man shaking his head. “A brutal, unwarranted attack on C.I.A. by the sadistic TNT. We have to cut to commercial, fans, but we’ll keep you updated. When we come back, we have a match between Flunkmasta Flexxx, of the new sound, and Tod Dekindes. We’ll be right back.” The cameras fade out, showing Axis still shaking his head sadly.

June 14, 2002

*** Back from commercial break, we immediately segue to the ring which contains Matt Kivell and ring announcer Funyon; as Rage Against The Machine's 'Born As Ghosts' is blaring from the speakers. ***

Funyon: Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is set for one fall! Introducing first, about to enter the ring. From Rochester, New York; weighing in at 239 lbs…he is a member of the sWo … Flunkmastaaaaaaaa Flexxx!!!

*** As the boos start filing into the arena, The Flexxxacious one arrives on top of the ramp, as red strobe lights and yellow pyros accompany his entrance. He holds up his hands in the Diamond Cutter sign and then breaks them apart, signaling his confident stride towards the ring. He hops to the apron, crosses the ropes and poses to all four turnbuckles, raising a fist of predicted victory to the air. While the crowd gives him an unfavorable reaction, he chooses to ignore them for now with a cocky smirk, as he warms up for his opponent. Tom Morello's guitaristic stylings slowly fade to silence, making way for another heavy band… ***

Funyon: And his opponent…

*** Said heavy band is Slipknot with their hit "I Am Hated", as it blares out to an accompaniment of smoke and massive rave-like strobe lights. As the crowd cheers for their german bred hero, Tod deKindes walks out to his usual confident pace. He stops midway through the ramp, throwing an emotionless but approving look at the crowd. ***

Funyon: From Muenchen, Germany, he weighs in at 227 lbs… Tod - deeeeeee - Kinnnnn - deeeeeeeeessssssss!!

King: Answer me this, guys…

Axis: What's that, King?

King: As you may know, Frost has been trying to win over Sydney Sky.

Axis: That's right.

King: He's professed his love for her, he's given her gifts, hell, he's even sung for her!

Edwin: Good voice, too.

King: What I don't get is THIS, watch this!

*** A video recap is put up on the screen. Sydney Sky is in the ring, giving an interview soon after her World title win. Frost interrupts, declaring his love for her. Moments after, we see Tod deKindes sitting in the crowd. Days later, Frost offers Sydney a big teddy bear before his match. She's touched but she wants something more personal. Further down the hall, discreetly observing the proceedings: Tod deKindes. Last Sunday on Crimson, Frost shows off his musical talents as he serenades Sydney in her dressing room, finally starting to win her over. Just outside, we see a leather trenchcoat flash by, one that is easily identified as belonging to one Tod deKindes. ***

King: Right there! Tod deKindes has been observing Frost and Sydney Sky very closely recently; and I for one, would like to know what is up with THAT!

Axis: Well, I'm sure he has his reasons. Frost happens to be the current European champion and Tod IS a former champion himself. Their match last week was inconclusive as they wrestled to a double countout. Maybe he just wants another fair shot.

Edwin: I'm not too sure, Ax. It DOES seem as if there is more on Tod's mind than that. He's a very shady character and it's not always easy to know what he's thinking about.

*** Back in the ring, his theme song just having stopped, Tod removes the unneeded ring entrance attire and warms himself up in the ropes. As he and Flexxx meet up in center ring in a face-to-face, Matt Kivell orders them to wait for the bell before throwing any blows. ***

Axis: These two men briefly faced each other in six man action last Sunday, but now let's see how they fare in singles competition!

*** Bell rings. Flexxx talks some trash at his german opponent, punctuated by a hard shove. Tod comes raring back with hard right hands to the head that sends Flexxx reeling early on. Tod grabs a quick headlock but Flexxx is fast to free himself by pushing Tod to the ropes, leading to the tried and tested tackle / run the ropes / roll over / hop across / get up and leapfrog sequence. Tod catches Flexxx off the second bounce with a hiptoss attempt but it's blocked. Flexxx attempts his own but Tod reverses it and buries his fist into Flexxx's abdomen. Tod puts a leg over his head and performs a back flip, landing on his feet. Flexxx tries to behead him with a clothesline but Tod ducks it and catches his opponent in a rear waist lock. Flexxx tries to elbow out of it but instead he opts to reverse into his own waist lock. Flexxx goes for a quick german suplex, but Tod makes good use of his agility and counters it with a back flip. He grabs a second waist lock, hoping to be the first to hit that elusive german suplex. Flexxx once again counters with a back elbow to the side of the head and once again a reversal of the move. With Flexxx now in control, HE goes for the german, but Tod suddenly shifts his weight forward, rolling into a pinfall! ***

*One!*

*Two!*

*** Kick out by Flexxx. They quickly thrust themselves back at each other, into a lock up. Both men try to out muscle the other into a corner, but they're at a stalemate … until Flexxx gets the upper hand and backs Tod into a corner. Matt Kivell uses his five count, prompting for the break. Flexxx dutifully breaks, but then lunges forward in a cheap shot attempt. Tod quickly ducks, and now the tables are turned. Flexxx is back first in the corner while Tod is hammering away at him with right hands to the side of the head. Irish whip attempt to the corner is reversed by Flexxx, sending Tod hard into the opposite turnbuckle. Flexxx charges with intent of a running shoulderblock but Tod boosts himself off of Flexxx's back and escapes with a Van Dam'esque forward roll. Flexxx turns around … and walks right into an arm drag. He staggers up to his feet, and walks into a second arm drag. Repeat one more time. Fourth arm drag, this time Tod holds on into an arm bar. ***

Axis: Great show of speed there by Tod deKindes.

*** Flexxx writhes around the ring, and finally manages to reach the bottom rope with his leg. Tod breaks the hold when prompted by Matt Kivell and retreats to a corner. When Flexxx is finally up, both men walk up to center ring and engage in yet another lock up. Both men tussle around for a bit until Flexxx finally gains the upper hand and traps Tod in a controlling head lock. After proclaiming that he's "got him now", Flexxx cranks on the headlock, trying to bring Tod down to the mat. Not one to be grounded so easily in the early going, Tod fires off a few elbow shots in Flexxx's abdomen, freeing himself of his grasp. He shoots him off in the ropes and and attempts a clothesline that's ducked by Flexxx. On the second bounce, Tod extends his leg sideways in hopes of a standing side kick, but the foot is caught. ***

Flexxx: Oh no no no no no!!

*** He spins Tod around, tries to mow down Tod with a clothesline but it's ducked. Tod quickly regroups and floors Flexxx down with a short spear. He follows it up by mounting him and hammering away at him with rapid fire right hands to the head. He throws himself in the ropes and comes off, nailing a knee drop with on that same head of Flexxx. Cover. ***

*One!*

*Two!*

*** Flexxx contorts his body around, kicking out of the pinfall attempt. Tod stays on him with more right hands and an attempted Irish whip to the ropes, which is successful. Back bodydrop attempt is countered with a sunset flip. Tod wiggles his arms and tries to fight it, but eventually falls victim to the move. ***

*One!*

*Two!*

*** Tod quickly rolls backwards and counters into his own pin. ***

*One!*

*Two!*

*** Flexxx recounters, flipping over Tod back into a pinning predicament. Tod rolls backwards one more time, grabs Flexxx's legs and wraps him in a jackknife hold (not to be confused with Kevin Nash's move) into another pin. ***

*One!*

*Two!*

*** Flexxx muscles out of the hold and turns it around into a backslide. ***

*One!*

*Two!*

*** Both men struggle into a standing position, where Tod quickly surprises Flexxx with an inside cradle. ***

*One!*

*Two!*

*** Kick out by Flexxx. Both men up again. Tod grabs another quick headlock and takes down Flexxx to the canvas, cranking on the trapping hold. ***

Edwin: Say what you will, but Tod deKindes is dictating the pace of this match up so far! He's kept Flexxx grounded since the bell rang!

*** Flexxx tries to yank on Tod's long streaming locks of hair to free himself, but Matt Kivell is quick to come in and prevent it, giving him a stern warning about doing stuff like that. Flexxx's shoulders land on the mat for a split second. ***

*One!*

*Two!*

*** Flexxx throws his arm in the air at the last second, avoiding the unexpected pinfall. Flexxx is now getting to his feet, looking for another way to free himself. Upon reviewing his options, he finds that a series of back elbow to the gut will do just fine. He shoves Tod to the topes. Tackle sends Tod down hard. They once again go for the "roll over, leap frog" sequence. Tod rolls to his stomach, waiting for his opponent to hop over him; but suddenly Flexxx stops shorts and drops an elbow to the small of the back of Tod. ***

King: Ooh! Too slow!

Axis: Tod took his eye off the ball for a second there and it cost him.

*** Flexxx takes the upper hand in the contest and hammers away at Tod with forearm shots to the back and back of the head. He aims the elbow right at Tod's head and drops the point of that elbow right on that intended target. He picks him up by the hair and bodyslams him back down to the bat. He comes off the ropes and nails a solid leg drop across the windpipe. He maintains the leg in place as a way of covering. ***

*One!*

*Two!*

*** Kick out by Tod. Flexxx follows up with his offense and scores with a text book vertical suplex. He drops a few elbows and moves right to the lateral press for the cover. ***

*One!*

*Two!*

*** Tod kicks out once again. Flexxx grabs the dazed Tod by the hair and sends him running into a corner with the help of an Irish whip. He slowly walks towards his opponent, confident of his attack and then buries a few shoulder blocks in the german one's abdomen. Blatant choke hold draws Kivell's five count, as Flexxx releases JUST before five, avoiding a disqualification. Irish whip to the ropes by Flexxx. A cocky back elbow attempt is ducked by Tod. Flexxx attempts a clothesline on the return bounce but Tod catches the arm and floats over into a DDT! Tod shakes the cobwebs loose and regroups with right hands to the head of Flexxx. Irish whip to the ropes by Tod. Gutshot. Tod bounces off the adjacent set of ropes and nails a breath taking swinging neck breaker. Tod follows it up, grabs a front face lock, throws Flexxx's arm up over his head and snaps him down with a lightening fast suplex … He brings him back up to his feet, and then drops him back down stomach first, courtesy of a front suplex … He brings him up one more time, lifts him up in the suplex once again, and throws him abdomen first, leaving him sprawled across the top rope. ***

Axis: The Sara Sequence is in full progress!

King: Do you have any idea how utterly stupid and ridiculous that sounds?

Edwin: As stupid as "Hi, I'm Suicide King and this is my first time" ?

King: … Dear Lord …

*** Tod heads to the apron in preparation for his signature springboard leg drop. He hops up to the top rope, leaps off, but Flexxx suddenly moves and lands to the safety of the ring apron! Having telegraphed THAT move, Tod lands on HIS feet. But the moment of distraction is enough for Flexxx to grab Tod's head with both hands, jump off the ring apron and snap his neck off the top rope. Tod is on the mat, clutching his throat, while Flexxx slides back in the ring, dropping a forearm on the back of Tod's head. A couple more kicks to the head and body to make sure that Tod stays down; only for Flexxx to pull him back up by the hair. He sends Tod to the ropes and FLOORS him with a devastating clothesline. Cover. ***

*One!*

*Two!*

*** Tod throws his shoulder up in the air, kicking out of the pin fall. Flexxx comes back with a solid kick that rocks Tod's head backwards. He sends a few more kicks to the mid section and head of Tod, and punctuates it with another F U Elbow to the back of Tod's head. He picks him up in a vertical sulex position of his own, sends a nasty word to the audience and proceeds with his own type of rolling suplexes, connecting with about four. ***

King: Now, THAT's a sequence, gentlemen! And Flexxx don't name it after a GIRL, either!!

*** Flexxx does a little gloating and then puts on the lateral press for the cover. ***

*One!*

*Two!*

*** Tod kicks out at two and a half. ***

Edwin: Notice how there have been a lot of attempts at a cover in this match, especially since hitting one big move after another. Though Flexxx has control right now, it's still been an even playing field thus far.

*** Flexxx raises Tod to a seated position and wraps his tatooed arms around him in a rear chinlock, to kill some time. ***

Axis: Like you said, Flexxx seems to have the advantage in this contest and now he seems to be the one that's dictating the pace.

King: Yeah, that'll teach him for stalking Sydney Sky.

Axis: Stalking? What are you talking about??

King: You've seen how Tod deKindes has been hanging around her! Always creeping around from a corner, spying her every move, trying to INTERFERE with Frost's declarations of LOVE!!

Edwin: Well, come on now. Sydney's free to see whomever she chooses. She chose Frost. Or at least Frost chose HER. But nonetheless, it's her choice and her choice only.

Axis: Then again, we've seen what Frost is capable of doing. When that man doesn't get his way, that means 'Watch Out' for the poor sap who's standing in his way. I think Tod is just trying to warn her about that certain aspect of him. Sure, Frost may seem like a good catch right now. But you never know …

King: … I don't believe this, Puh LEAZE!! You are both JEALOUS because Frost is actually GETTING SOME!!

Axis: I hardly think that harmless flirting qualifies as getting some, King.

King: This from someone who has a lifetime subscription to Playboy!

Axis: …Erm, right. …

*** Meanwhile during all this, Tod has been trying to rally all of his Todheads behind him, as he tries to lose himself from Flexxx's grip. Repeated elbows to the gut seems to do just that, as Tod is now fully free. He launches himself in the ropes, but Flexxx quickly comes back with a knee lift in Tod's mid section. Tod tries to get to his feet, holding on to his stomach, but Flexxx boots him in the gut and plants him down with a DDT of his own. He takes a few seconds to gloat … and then covers. ***

*One!*

*Two!*

*Th…

*** Kick out by Tod. ***

King: Ooh! So close!!

Edwin: Should've hooked the leg there.

Axis: Yeah, a little TOO much showboating by your guy Flexxx there, King.

King: He knows what he's doing. He's just toying with Tod right now! He knows it's in the bag!

Edwin: I'd be careful if I were Flexxx. Tod HAS surprised us before.

*** Flexxx maintains his offensive advantage and hammers Tod with more precise kicks and elbows, all centered around the head area. He picks him up, still by the hair, and rams his head in a random top turnbuckle. He stomps a mudhole in the german grappler but he chooses then not to walk it dry, instead choosing to Irish whip him to the opposite corner … but it's reversed! Flexxx goes crashing into the turnbuckle. Tod quickly charges at his opponent and connects with his trademark corner spear. All the air is driven out of the Flunkmasta as there's no room to fall back. Tod hooks both his arms and sends him flying with his patented double underhook overhead belly to belly suplex. Tod quickly floats over into a cover, but not in enough time. Flexxx quickly kicks out barely at the count of one. Tod brings up Flexxx to his feet and puts him in an arm wringer. Ever the desperate one, Flexxx thumbs Tod in the eye and blatantly yanks him down with full force by the hair. ***

King: Hah, THAT'S how you keep a man down, fellas!

*** Flexxx raises Tod to his feet, does a quick go behind, grabbing Tod in a rear waist lock and sends him high overhead with a release German suplex. He waits for Tod to squirm into the right position, and then runs halfway across the ring. He leaps on the second rope and dives off with a picture perfect quebrada, better known to all of us as a Lionsault; into a cover attempt. ***

*One!*

*Two!*

*Thr…

*** Another desperate kick out by Tod. Brandishing his fist high in the air from his position on the mat, he lets all of the Todheads know that there's still hope yet. Wanting to crush that very same hope, Flexxx grabs Tod by his long and stringy hair and then plants a solid right hand directly in the mouth. He sends him running in the ropes with an Irish whip. He sends him flying high up in the air with one leg and back down with authority, courtesy of an unforgiving flap jack. Seeing Tod starting to get to his feet, Flexxx crosses the ropes and scales up the turnbuckles. ***

Axis: Flunkmasta Flexxx, going up top. It's not every day you'll see him do that. What could he have in mind?

Edwin: Surely we're gonna see some Flying Flexxx right here and right now.

Axis: Don't call me Shirley.

*** Flexxx is up on the top rope, showboating and trying to play to the crowd. What he doesn't see is Tod quickly regaining his senses, dropkicking the top rope, causing Flexxx to crotch himself! Tod quickly climbs up to meet with Flexxx on the turnbuckles and sends him crashing back down to the canvas with a flying headscissor. Flexxx stumbles to his feet holding his head because that move hurts more than he thought it would, and is met with right hands by the resurging Tod. Irish whip exchange. Tod prepares to deliver an attack on the running Flexxx, but he quickly has to duck as Flexxx has his arm outstretched for a clothesline attempt. Tod catches Flexxx on his shoulders in a fireman's carry position and then proceeds to DRIVE him down with a death valley driver. Flexxx is NOT moving, therefore Tod heads to a corner and begins a climb of the turnbuckles. ***

Axis: And Tod deKindes is starting to build up his comeback!

King: Comeback? Please! Flexxx is just resting his body on the mat … He'll move … Don't worry …

*** Tod sends out a mighty war cry to his Todheads and leaps off in a swanton bomb effort … but misses. ***

King: See?

*** Flexxx capitalizes and goes for a cover. ***

*One!*

*Two!*

*Thr…

Axis: No!! Only two!!

King: Come on, ref!! Quit eyeing the fat chick in the front row and COUNT!!

Edwin: Fat chick?

King: Don't look! Kivell's obsession for fat ladies is disgusting.

Axis: I'm sure Matt Kivell has his personal tastes, as do you.

King: No, no, Matt Kivell's love for ladies of the larger kind is a crime of NATURE!

*** Irish whip exchange leads to Flexxx going for a back body drop. Tod comes off the ropes and stops short, shoving Flexxx's head between his legs. He lifts him up and PLANTS him down with a devastating jumping piledriver. Tod rolls over and into an attempted cover. ***

*One!*

*Two!*

*Thr…

*** Flexxx gets the shoulder up. Tod raises him up to his feet and shoves him to a corner. He buries a few shoulders and a few kicks in the mid section and Irish whips him hard to the opposite corner. He charges at him with his right arm fully in extension and connects with a powerful corner clothesline. He climbs up to the second rope, and gets prepared to give the fans their weekly german lesson with the Ten Punch Count Along, special Auf Deutsch version. ***

Crowd: Eine! Zwei! Drei! Vier! Funf! Sechs! ..ooh!!!

*** Once again, the recipient of the ten punches reaches out with his right arm and lodges it right between the german grappler's legs. Tod crumples to the mat, as the crowd groans … ***

King: That's two shows in a row now. Maybe he shouldn't do that.

Edwin: Well, bless his heart, he wants to put on a good show for the fans.

*** Flexxx maneuvers his way behind Tod, grabs him in a half nelson hold. He lifts him up with ease and suplexes him clear over his head, driving his head STRAIGHT down into the mat. ***

Axis: And there's the Flexxxplex! This could be enough to put away Tod deKindes!

*** Flexxx is a little slow to capitalize … but he eventually lays an arm on top of the german one. ***

*One!*

*Two!*

*Thre…

Axis: No sir!! So close yet SO far!!

*** Both men are a little slow to get up, prompting Matt Kivell to start using his mandatory ten count. ***

Axis: It's been mostly Flunkmasta Flexxx thus far in this match up, but Tod deKindes could rally his efforts anytime now and regain the advantage.

King: No way! Flexxx is too strong, it's only a matter of time until he puts this one in the bag!

*** Both men are up around the count of eight and a half; and now they're trading hard right hands. Tod gains the upper hand and sends Flexxx reeling against the ropes. He charges in an attempt to clothesline him out of the ring, but Flexxx ducks and backdrops ther german one clear over the ropes … only Tod uses his cat like reflexes to land on the apron. One yank of the hair later and Flexxx is down on the mat on his back. Tod awaits for him to get back to his feet and springboards off the top rope, connecting with a vicious springboard dropkick to the jaw of Flexxx. He flips the hair back, gives out a long and slow throat slashing gesture letting the crowd know that this is IT. ***

Axis: Tod deKindes is saying that he's done! Could he be going for the Spirit Breaker, or the Cerebral Driver! This is what we're about to find out!

*** Tod grabs Flexxx's left arm and runs it between his (Flexxx's) legs, holding it with is right arm. He hooks the other free arm with his left one and lifts him up on his shoulder in the pumphandle position. Tod goes to complete the move and plant Flexxx's head down into the canvas, but Flexxx wiggles his body around and frees himself by sliding behind Tod, landing on his feet. He shoves Tod to the ropes and catches him in a devastating 180 spinebuster. He grapevines both of Tod's legs and spins him around into a scorpion death lock. Tod is almost instantly screaming in pain from the unforgiving maneuver. ***

Axis: There's that Sharpshooter from Flunkmasta Flexxx! Will Tod deKindes give it up right here!!

King: Yes!! Yes he will!! Tap out!! Tap out right now, you little nazi!!

*** Matt Kivell could ask Tod a thousand times if he gives up but he'd still get a resounding "NO!!!". Instead of lying there in pain, Tod tries to crawl to the nearest set of ropes, reaching out his hand at every break. He reaches … and reaches … and reaches …aaaaaand, he's almost there … one last desperation reach of the hand … and he's GOT THAT ROPE! … However, Flexxx is a little slow I letting go of that hold. ***

Edwin: Come on, ref now, he's gotta release the hold.

King: He's just making the most of out of that five count, Ed! Come on, Flexxx! Cinch it in!!

*** Flexxx finally releases his sharpshooter, but the damage has already been done. He drags up Tod to his feet and grabs an arm and a leg … ***

Axis: He's going for the Golden Gun!!

*** But Tod has a little life left in him. ***

Edwin: Nope, not quite.

*** He wiggles his legs around and falls back to the safety of the mat, right behind Flexxx. He grabs a waist lock and shoves him to the ropes, bouncing back into a pinning predicament. ***

*One!*

*Two!*

*Thre…

*** Reversed by Flexxx. ***

*One!*

*Two!*

*Thr…

*** Kick out, every sprawls all over the mat; but both men are quickly up. Flexxx ducks a right hand and into a tazzmission … ***

Axis: He's going now for the Cry Of The Depraved!

Edwin: Um, nope!

*** Tod's trick knee acts up, landing right between Flexxx's legs. He appropriates him back into the pumphandle position, but Flexxx once again slips out from behind and grabs Tod's head in a 3/4 neck breaker position. ***

Axis: And how he's going for the Last Bullet!

Edwin: He's gotta hit ONE of those moves soon, does he?

*** Tod blocks it, grabs Flexxx's arm and cleverly spins around into an modified arm wringer, knees Flexxx in the gut and FINALLY he manages to lift him and up and DRIVE him down. ***

Axis:After many tries, Tod deKindes finally nails the Spirit Breaker!! The cover!!

*One!*

*Two!*

*Three!!*

Edwin: He's got him!!

King: NO!!!

*** Bell rings. The soothing sounds of Slipknot signal the victor as Funyon's announcement makes it official. ***

Funyon: Ladies and gentlemen, here is your winner: Tod - deeeeeeee - Kinnnn - deeeeeesssssss!!!

*** As Matt Kivell tends to the downed Flexxx, Tod strikes a victorious pose on the second rope, sending out a mighty victory roar to his Todheads in the crowd. He sends one last look towards Flexxx and then slides out of the ring, slowly heading back up the ramp and back to his dressing room. ***

Axis: A big win here tonight for Tod deKindes!

Edwin: Big win indeed!

King: It wasn't supposed to be like this! Flexxx had this match WON! And then … God …WHAT HAPPENED, GUYS?!

Axis: Tod deKindes has defeated Flunkmasta Flexxx, that's what happened!! Folks, when we come back, MORE ACTION!!

Edwin: Bring a snack!!

*** While Flexxx walks to the back, holding his head, we fade away into a commercial break. ***

June 14, 2002

The camera fades back in on Metal with the goofy grinning face of SJL commissioner Edwin MacPhisto standing at ringside next to an easel with a family tree looking chart on it and a pointer in his hand.

Edwin: “Welcome back to what we hope has been an exciting and breathtaking edition of Metal for all of you at home.”

Cut to a traditional looking Mid-Western family switching their television channel from Metal to a rerun of “Love, American Style” on Oxygen.

Edwin: “As commissioner of the SJL, I know that the past few weeks have been chaotic ones here as many new faces have stepped up to make a name for themselves.”

Cut to an old lady asking Thor to autograph a picture of Dan Spivey.

Edwin: “While other stars have taken well deserved leaves of absences.”

Cut to Scott Reid and Creed chained to the wall of Thoth’s basement wearing nothing but leather underwear, a blindfold and a gag in their mouths.

Edwin: “And I want to make sure that all of our casual and even hardcore viewers are aware of all of the goings on here in the SJL. For example, due to a belated announcement from the last Crimson…”

Cut to Z and Ced thrashing away at Donky Kong on an old Atari 2600 back in a locker room as a voice can be heard calling over a loudspeaker, “XF9 report for opening promo, XF9 report for opening promo.”

Edwin: “former World Champion Sydney Sky rejoined XF9. (Edwin slaps the pointer next to Sky’s name under Ced and Z’s to illustrate this) However, we all know that European Champion Frost (Edwin slaps Frost’s name branched off of Sky’s) has had romantic designs on Sky and we can only guess how their burdening relationship has blossomed.”

Cut to two silhouettes in intimate contact behind a white window curtain while “Sexual Healing” by Marvin Gaye plays in the background.

Edwin: “Now Frost was jumped earlier this evening by the number one contender for the European title Taylor Nicholas Thompson (points to TNT’s name). However, a scheduling snafu in the main booking office…”

Cut to a room of 1000 monkeys pounding away on 1000 typewriters.

Edwin: “has lead to a second number one contender’s match to occur earlier this evening between Mike Van Siclen and C.I.A. with a clear resolution I’m sure short coming to this predicament.”

Cut to one of the monkeys setting his typewriter on fire and making frustrated noises.

Edwin: “Now, most should remember the intense feud that Thompson recently had with Tod deKindes, although that will surely pale in comparison to the upcoming one between Frost and Tod. (Edwin traces lines leading from Tod’s name to both Frost and Sky) For not only has deKindes been seen mysteriously trailing Sydney, but Frost jumped Tod during his six man tag match last week to allow the sWo a win. Could Frost be thinking of joining this resurgent stable?”

Cut to Flex, Poisyn and Mak Francis standing around Frost. Flex has his arms out in a pleading gesture while Frost’s are folded across his chest.

Flex: “Please join us.”

Frost: “No.”

Flex: “Please.”

Frost: “No.”

Flex: “Please.”

Frost: “No.”

Flex: “We’ll buy you lunch at Denny’s.”

Frost: (ponders thoughtfully for a second) “No.”

Edwin: “And, of course this all leads to tonight’s main event as another creative booking decision…”

Cut to a blindfolded monkey throwing darts at a wall filled with pictures of SJL wrestlers as typewriters can be heard clicking in the background.

Edwin: “has led to Sydney Sky and new beau Frost to go up against Syd’s buddies in XF9 with a World title shot on the line. (Edwin points to Deathwish’s name at the top of the chart) Not only would Frost like to get his hands on new champion Danny Williams for literally rearranging Syd’s face, but the Icelander’s two biggest current foes in deKindes and TNT have their own history with Williams and one can be sure that the sWo wants in on the intertwining title picture as well.”

Cut to a monkey forcefully banging his head into his typewriter and cackling as if he is on the brink of losing his mind.

Edwin: “Now let’s go up to Funyon for ring introductions.”

Edwin collapses his pointer and the camera pans around stylishly to focus on Funyon in the ring with microphone rising to his lips.

Funyon: “Our main event here for this evening is scheduled for one fall with no time limit and will be held under standard SJL tag team rules with an SJL World Title shot going to which ever participant scores the winning pin fall or submission.”

With that the arena lights dim down just a shade and “B4U~Glorisous Style~” blaring over the sound system competes with the rising cheers of the crowd for noise level supremacy. However, the techno groove song finally loses out as Ced and Z comes blasting out from the ring curtain and bounding down the entrance at top speed while slapping high fives to the insanely popping fans.

Funyon: “Introducing first at a combined weight of 439 lbs. and cornerstones of X Force Nine, the Z & C Connection, CED ORDOOOOOOOOOOOONEZZZZZZZZZZZZZ and ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ

ZZZZZZZ!”

Axis: “Well, that was certainly a very well thought out and reasoned explanation by you, Edwin, to let all of our loyal fans know what is exactly going on in the federation.”

King: “Which you wouldn’t have had to have done in the first place if you spent more time monitoring the talent and their lives here than shoving bamboo into the panda cages at the zoo.”

Edwin: “And it might also help if some deputy commissioner of mine carried his fair share of the work load and didn’t spend all of his free time down at the local strip clubs.”

King: “If you check my taxes you will see that my trips to those very reputable dance clubs and the money I spend there is marked as ‘talent scouting for on air personalities.’”

Edwin is cut off before he can make a retort by the thundering guitars of “Cities on Flame with Rock ‘n Roll,” and while the crowd makes noise, it blends to a point where one cannot tell whether they are predominately booing or cheering.

Funyon: “And now introducing at a combined weight of 476 lbs., respectively the SJL former World Champion and current European Champ, SYDNEY SKYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY and FFFFFFFFFFFFRRRRRRRROOOOOOOOOOSSSSSSSSST!”

Sydney comes out with her arms wrapped around the big right elbow of her not quite yet boyfriend. Her battered and bruised face from the match with Danny Williams is covered in more than just physical pain as she is obviously questioning the newly assaulted and bloodied Frost on how up he is to compete in the match.

King: “Check out the gruesome twosome there and you know what wakes plastic surgeons up in the night screaming.”

Axis: “That is highly rude of you King. Sky put in one of the most tremendous and gutsy efforts I have ever seen against Danny Williams and, in an odd way, it let Frost prove just that much more how much he loves Sky, by not caring what she looks like now from it.”

King: “You park the train in the station, not the tunnel if you get what I’m saying. Frosty can just put a paper bag over her face.”

Edwin: “I hear that usually worked on your mother.”

Frost jumps to the ring apron and gingerly takes Sydney by her hands to lift her up to the apron. Frost steps over the top ring rope and un-straps his European belt to hand to Funyon, who accepts the title and leaves the ring. Ced steps to the ring apron as Z sharply clicks his heels together and fires off a crisp salute to the audience. He turns around to see Frost slapping his arms with his hands to warm himself up and immediately makes a beeline to the apron. Z smiles sheepishly and grandly gestures with an outstretched arm for Ced to take the first turn in the ring. With a shake of his head, Ced climbs through the ropes.

Axis: “It looks like Z was going to start the match, but has delegated to Ced.”

King: “Z might be and idiot, but he’s not stupid. Frost always rips him to shreds and the only way he ever beat him was with me as his tag team partner.”

Edwin: “And a suitcase of Def Leppard albums that was aimed at my head, if I can get some credit on that.”

Frost’s eyes narrow at Ced as Sky leans over to put a hand on Frost’s arm and says something unheard by the cameras.

Axis: “It looks like Syd is asking to go first, maybe looking to smooth the way with her XF9 brethren before the match gets going in earnest.”

Sky enters the ring to a thunderous pop from the crowd and Frost exits to the apron. Ced and Syd shake hands in the center of the ring with warm smiles and the bell sounds to start.

DING DING DING

Axis: “It looks like there is no fissuring in the new XF9 lineup as Sky, Ced and Z appear to want to keep this match on the friendly side.”

Frost: “Yeah, but I don’t see Z&C baking cookies and having tea with Frost anytime soon.”

Z waves madly from the apron and makes wild sounds like a chimp in heat. Ced walks over to see what Z wants and he holds his hand out for the tag. Ced shakes his head again, sighs deeply and slaps his hand to let him in.

Edwin: “Look at Z demanding to start off the match, what fire in that young man.”

King: “He’s asking to start off against a beaten and injured woman who is lucky if she’s 50% to wrestle tonight. I guess some of my finer points did rub off on him.”

Z scurries into the ring all flustered and throws his arms around Sky with a big hug. Sydney grins her ever luminous smile and returns the affections of her teammate in a very sisterly fashion. Z lets go and advances a few steps forward to stick his tongue out at Frost for hugging his girl. Frost’s face turns beet red and he reaches out a massive paw toward Z, but at the same time Syd drops down and shoots a hand up between Z’s legs to roll him over for a quick pin.

ONE

TWO

Z flips out and scoots on his rear to rest in the near corner. Sky springs to her feet and blows a kiss at Z with a playful smile.

Axis: “Sky schoolboys, er schoolgirls, Z over for what might have been a very sneaky win.”

Edwin: “Ah, she was just jacking the boy around.”

King: “And not jacking in the good way might I add.”

Z reaches up with both hands to grab a section of the top rope and pulls himself to his feet. Z blushes and turns his face away from Syd coquettishly as he plays like he is embarrassed to be fooled by Sky the way he was.

King: “Is this a wrestling match or an episode of ‘Kukla, Fran and Ollie.’”

Edwin: (with a sigh) “Oddly, the ratings are about the same.”

Sky looks over to wink at Ced, who stands laughing on the apron despite himself. Z catches Syd’s eye momentarily turned away and quickly charges at her with his arm thrust out for his patented arm grenade. Sydney catches Z out of the corner of her eye and ducks under his arm while running for the far ropes. Z turns around as Sky bounces off the thick strands of twine and throws herself flipping through the air to catch her stablemate solid in the face with a spinning wheel kick.

Axis: “Rejoice, King, it looks like the kid gloves are off and this match is under way proper.”

Edwin: “Kid gloves? Kids don’t wear gloves anymore, that is so un-tubular.”

Z falls back into the near ropes holding a hand to his face as Sky replants herself. Z stumbles forward and the nubile Sky back flips over to catch Z around his neck with her feet and ranas him over to the mat. She drops her weight down on Z’s chest and referee Matthew Kivell slides into position to count the pin.

ONE

TWO

Z puts his hands behind his head and maneuvers his legs underneath himself to bridge up out of the pin.

King: “I think Z was enjoying Sky laying on top of him a little too much there. He better be careful that Frost doesn’t jack his jaws.”

Edwin: “And not jack in a good way. At least we know that Z likes girls.”

Z puts his hands under the lower part of Syd’s back as he makes his feet and lifts her straight out at the waist. He does a short skip into the air and drops Sky on her back in a makeshift powerbomb. He adjusts his feet over Syd’s shoulders and Kivell drops for another count.

ONE

TWO

Sky unwraps her feet from around Z’s neck and raps him in the ears with the sides of her ankles to break the pin.

Axis: “Another near fall and the pair in the ring just seem happy to be engaged in friendly competition.”

Sky rolls to her feet and vaults to the near ropes. She stands on the bottom rope, while steadying herself with her hands on the top strand and hurdles head over heels to lionsault onto Z still lying on the mat. Z rolls to his right out of instinct more than actually seeing Sky coming for him and Syd splashes nothing but canvas.

Axis: “Syd misses the Fallen Star thanks to Z’s luck more than his in ring prowess, but that just might changed the tenor of events.”

King: “Let me ask you something, Edwin. The person that scores the pin fall or submission here gets a title shot with Danny Williams?”

Edwin: (pulling out his pointer) “I believe that’s been said, I could draw you a diagram if it would make it easier for you to comprehend.”

Z struggles to his feet as Sky pushes herself up by her hands on the mat. Z sets himself directly above Sky and, turning stiff as a board, drops a headbutt down between Syd’s shoulder blades. Syd rolls over on her back, arching it in pain, while Z lays on the canvas shaking from his own blow like he is having a stroke.

King: “Ok, Jimmy the Greek, let’s say Ced and Frost are the legal men and they both get counted out on the outside, who gets the title shot.”

Edwin: “Er…. didn’t think of that.”

Ced and Frost both lean out for the tag from their respective partners. Sky spins around on her stomach to face Frost and crawls to him, while Z drags himself to a neutral corner and looks up perplexed to not find Ced there.

King: “Or let’s say Sky is the legal person and Frost has enough of these two doofuses and clocks Z in the head with a chair. Z picks up the win by dq, but he didn’t get it over the wrestler in the ring.”

Edwin: “Er…yeah…hmm…”

Cut to the roomful of monkeys throwing their typewriters around with paper flying everywhere and monkey chatter blathering away.

Edwin: “I’m sure those rare and isolated incidents you mentioned won’t happen.” (Edwin crosses himself and starts to pray)

Sky makes one last lunge and slaps Frost’s hand for the tag. Kivell sees it and Frost enters the ring as Syd crawls to the apron and takes a breather, still worn out from the brutal Williams match only 4 days beforehand.

Axis: “Sky looked excellent in the early goings, but now we get a chance to see how Frost is doing.”

Z lies on his back and reaches up to grab the second rope of the upper right ring corner while Ced cheers Z on from the lower right corner. Frost lumbers over and grabs Z around his ankles. He pulls Z forward and lifts him up so that he is hanging in midair. With a fierce jerk, Z loses his grip on the rope and he flops into the center of the ring on his back.

Axis: “Frost is going to work now and while his head doesn’t show any visible signs of the recent beating from TNT, we saw him bloodied and laid out less than an hour ago. How fresh can he be?”

King: “I could take a week old pound of hamburger that has been laying out in the sun and it would be fresh enough to beat Z.”

Edwin: “So, that’s the scent of your cologne.”

Frost leans down to pull Z up to him by his raggedy blue hair. Z gains his feet and twirls around in Frost’s grip to run for Ced. Frost holds on and Z yelps in pain. Frost shoves his left arm up under Z’s armpit and clamps his other arm over his throat in a Camel Clutch. Frost then grapevines his right leg around Z’s and sweeps him face first into the mat.

Axis: “A vicious Icelandic legsweep by Frost, but he elects not to go for the cover.”

Edwin: “Actually he did elect for the cover, but the hanging chads nullified the vote.”

King: “Ooo…way to be on top their Edwin with the current events humor, have you tried Crystal Pepsi yet?”

Frost rises to his feet and growls at the crowd as he raises a defiant fist in the air. Frost looks over at Sydney shaking her head from side to side on the apron. Frost drops his arm and gives her an apologetic look.

King: “Look he’s pussy whipped already.”

Frost takes a moment to regain his composure and shake off his shame at Syd disagreeing with his taunting of her beloved fans. He bends over to take Z once more by his hair, but the resilient grappler received just the breather he needed and rockets a forearm up between the big Icelander’s legs to smash his testicles.

Axis: “I don’t know if you can say pussy on the air?”

Edwin: “Well, you can say pussy whipped, or pussy willow or pussy like that, but you can’t say pussy pussy like let’s go eat some pussy. Did I just say pussy like six times?”

Frost drops to his knees, holding his hands over his groin as Z scampers on his hands and knees to tag Ced in the corner. Z slides to the apron as Ced steps into the squared circle and the fans give a modest pop. Frost rests on his knees with a grimace locked on his face.

Edwin: “Poor guy and Frost probably had plans for using that tonight.”

Axis: “Please, we are far from a late night smut fest on pay cable.”

Edwin: “But if we were…SHAWING!”

Ced trots over to Frost and reins one vicious knife edged chop after another into the big man’s chest. The audience screams approval as Frost shifts his focus from his bruised genitalia to his reddening chest.

King: “I can say cock all I want can’t I? Like Frost hurt his cock or Z’s a huge cock.”

Edwin: “Well, I can’t say I am as concerned with cock as I am about pussy, but whatever makes you happier.”

Ced takes a short hop back and plants all of his weight on his back leg while shooting a stiff thrust kick with his right leg to the dead center of Frost’s chest. Frost teeters for a second and then crashes to the mat with his legs pinned underneath him. Ordonez takes three wide steps over to Frost and launches himself into the air to come crashing down on him with a double knee drop. Frost wheezes for air and Ced hooks the leg for the cover.

ONE

TWO

TH-

Frost powers out thanks to his massive upper body strength and climbs slowly to his feet while Ced leaps to his and heads for the near ropes.

Axis: “A surprising near fall for Ced Ordonez and he is going to have to keep Frost off of his feet with his speed and stiff striking power if he has any hopes of beating this man nearly twice his size.”

Ced soars into the air with his body stretched out to its fullest for a cross body block. Frost pivots around just in time to see his flying form and catches the lighter and shorter man in his arms with little sign of visible effort. Frost hefts Ced up and down a few times to show how little he weighs to him and the crowd jeers. Syd looks on from the apron with concern on her face for Ced. Frost catches her eyes and stops doing reps with Ced. He holds onto him for a second deciding what to do and then finally flips him up with a spin in the air for a tilt-a-whirl slam down to the mat.

Axis: “It looked like Frost was setting up his devastating fall away slam, but opted instead for a less impactful tilt-a-whirl slam.”

King: (gesturing like cracking a whip) “Waaaachsh. Waaaachsh.”

Edwin: “Bless you.”

Frost rolls Ced over and makes a lateral press for the cover. Z goes to step through the ropes as Kivell makes his count.

ONE!

TWO!

THRE-

Ordonez brings his shoulder up at the last second and Z retreats to the apron as the fans sigh with relief.

Axis: “Frost gets a near fall as we have a classic struggle of David vs. Goliath.”

King: “Ced should scrap the slingshot for a bazooka.”

Frost leans up to his knees and eyes the ref with contempt. He puts his hands on the side of Ced’s face and lifts him up to his feet.

Edwin: “Correct me if I’m wrong…”

King: “You’re wrong, now be quiet for you know nothing.”

Ced leans slightly woozy up against Frost’s chest as the Icelander snakes an arm up around his shoulder to cinch him for the Ice Shelf. Ced leans to his left as much as can in Frost’s grasp and starts smacking elbows into the side of his opponents head with increasing force.

Edwin: (shaking off King’s rebuttal) “I was just going to say, correct me if I’m wrong, but isn’t this the first time Frost and Ced, two of our top stars, have ever met in the ring.”

Axis: “Right you are, Edwin, top observation.”

Frost’s grasp on Ced becomes shaky and Ordonez brings his hands up to lock around Frost’s arm and he yanks down to bring the sinewy appendage down over his knee in an armbreaker. Frost howls in pain and, while he is unbalanced, Ced uses his superior leverage to flip the mammoth man over with an armdrag to the canvas.

King: “Well, then that’s just another ppv dream match you’ve wasted.”

Edwin: (slapping his forehead) “D’oh!”

Ced drops two quick knees into Frost’s face to keep him down and rushes over to tag Z. Z grabs the top rope with both hands and slingshots himself into the ring. However, his left foot catches on the top rope and he splats on his face to the giggles of the crowd.

Axis: “I must say that I am surprised at how easily Ced is handling the European champion, but he has a lot of experience in going up against bigger opponents.”

King: “Yeah, have you seen the women he dates.”

Ced reaches down and locks his arms around Z’s in a double chicken wing. He lifts his partner straight up off the mat and drops him straight back and down on top of Frost in a Tiger suplex. Frost is completely stunned from the blow as Z rolls to his feet and Ced runs to slingshot off the far ropes for added momentum. Z braces his unsteady form as best he can as Ordonez runs up his body as easy as climbing stairs and back flips off his portable post to moonsault on Frost.

Axis: “The double team innovators lay Frost out with their ‘we don’t have a name for this move, move.’”

Edwin: “I’m calling it the ‘Funk-inator Special 20006,’ but you refer to it as you will.”

Ced slides off of Frost and spins to his feet. Sydney Sky runs into the ring from the apron and Kivell breaks his dq count on Ced to get out of the ring to yell at Sky. Z runs up to meet Sydney, but before he can react, Syd makes a standing leap into the air and headlocks Z while he is standing straight up. Z staggers around a little with a 170-pound woman clamped to his head. Ced sprints over to help Z out, but Sky locks her elevated legs around Ced’s face in a head scissors and Syd hangs in the air like a plank between the two men. As the two struggle against her, Sky rolls forward and sends the two grapplers tumbling over to the canvas. Ced does a full flip over and slides to the floor while Z lands with a crunch on his neck and legs bent up over his head.

Axis: “What a fantastic maneuver by Sydney Sky as she uses her agility to bail Frost out of a certain lost.”

King: “Don’t forget that there’s a title shot on the line here for who scores the win. Sky is just looking out for herself.”

Axis: “Perhaps, but there are more important things in this life than titles and accolades.”

Kivell bends down to push a shoulder into Sky’s midsection and drives her back to her corner. Syd reluctantly returns to the apron as Frost rolls over to his face and tiredly crawls toward her to make the legal tag. Z unfolds himself to lay flat on the mat while Ced leans on the outside apron gaining his breath and holding the back of his head where he struck it falling to the floor.

King: “Sure there are more important things; money, fame, pussy…”

Edwin: (picking up for King) “reruns of the Rockford Files, open face turkey sandwiches, Carnauba wax, men named Bing.”

Frost inches on his stomach like a soldier in a trench toward Sky. Z reaches back and grabs Frost by his ankle, but it’s a little too late as one last lunge puts his hand on Sky’s and Kivell points to her in signifying the made tag. Frost skims to the floor as Sky retakes the ring with Z.

Axis: “We come back to where we started in this high octane contest with Z and Sky, but this time the more vital Riot Girl should have the advantage.”

Ced sees Sky picking Z up by his shoulders in the ring and puts a hand on the second rope and pulls himself to rest on the apron on his knees. Frost lurches around the ring corner, breathing hard, and catches Ced by the back of his trunks. Frost pulls Ced down to face him and with a hand on his tights and another on the back of his head, he tosses Ordonez into the guardrail. It shifts back with a clank as Kivell leans over the ring ropes to yell at Frost to get back into his corner. Frost reluctantly heads back to his post as Sky in the ring whips Z to the ropes.

Axis: “That blow to the steel is going to put Ced out of commission for a few minutes and Z will have to go it alone.”

King: “Ced will be lucky if there is anything left of his partner when he comes too.”

Sky spins around to catch the rushing Z with another spinning wheel kick, but the groggy grappler has just enough in him to duck it this time and slides around Syd to catch her in a waistlock. Sky gives a bump of her hips before Z can really cinch his grip and pivots out of the hold to seize Z in a front facelock.

Axis: “SKY SWIRL COMING UP!”

Sky makes to spin Z up into the stunner position, but on the upswing, he jerks his head back and pushes Sky into the ropes. Z grabs Sky in a loose front waistlock and tries to belly to belly suplex her over his head, but she links her elbows around the top ring rope and Z falls back to the mat with a crack on his back. Z tucks himself into a ball and rolls to his feet and charges at Syd with an arm grenade. Sky stands her ground and shoots out a thrust kick before Z can reach her. She hits him full in the stomach and he doubles over. Syd wastes no time in hooking Z under his elbows and shoving his head between her legs. As the crowds roar mounts, Sky drives Z face first into the canvas and uses the bounce up to regain her feet.

Axis: “DAYBREAK! DAYBREAK! SYDNEY SKY JUST HIT Z WITH THE DAYBREAK AND HER DREAMS OF GETTING ANOTHER WORLD TITLE SHOT ARE ALL BUT REALIZED!”

Syd walks nonchalantly over to her corner and holds her hand out for Frost. The fans are beside themselves; some booing, some cheering, but most not knowing what to think. Frost looks with wide eyes at the packed auditorium and then turns his gaze to Syd’s outstretched palm.

Axis: “UNBELIEVABLE, SYD IS ASKING FOR THE TAG WITH Z ALL BUT BEAT!”

King: “To quote my esteemed and intelligent father ‘that broad is dingy.’

Edwin: “Obviously, Sky wants to show Frost that she loves him by letting him make the pin for the title shot, similar to how Frost allowed her to win the belt in the first place. But why should I speak, for I know nothing.”

Frost brings his right hand up high in the air and slaps it down on Syd’s for the tag. Referee Matthew Kivell claps his own hands together and points at the corner to signify the tag. Z is still out cold on the mat with no signs of movement.

Axis: “Frost excepts the tag.”

King: “Because he’s not stupid enough to look a gift horse in the mouth.”

Edwin: “Or maybe Frost is humble enough to except the tag as a token of Sky’s love. It’s all so Shakespearian, or Days of Our Lives-ian depending on who you feel has the better storylines.”

Frost nudges Z over with the toe of his boot as Sky looks on from the lower left hand corner of the ring. Suddenly, Ced appears out of nowhere on the top rope of the upper right hand corner and the fans pop. Ced leans down into the ropes for leverage and sails into the air with a forward summersault and his leg extended out high over his head.

Axis: “TOP ROPE SILVER LINING HEADING FOR FROST’S HEAD!”

Frost looks up to stare at Ordonez hovering in the air like a Matrix extra. Ced reaches the peak of his jump and starts to descend with the axe kick right on target for Frost’s cranium. Frost leans back as far as his waist will go and juts his arms into the air to catch Ced by his ankle. Frost twists Ced to his left and the grappler comes tumbling down onto his own partner. Z revives with an ‘ooph’ from Ced landing on him and the battered Ordonez rolls off and out of the ring back to the floor. Frost takes one long stride forward and vaults into the air with his arms and legs spread out.

Edwin: “I think Z would rather have the Sky falling than the Frost setting in.”

Frost lands on top of Z with a colossal body splash backed by his almost near 300-pound girth. Frost hooks the leg and Kivell drops for the count.

ONE!

TWO!

THREE!

Frost nearly leaps to his feet with schoolboy glee as Sydney Sky leaps into his waiting beefy arms.

Funyon: (from ringside) “Here is our winner and NEW number one contender for the World Heavyweight Championship….FFFFFFFFFFFRRRRRRRRRRRRRRROOOOOOOOOOOOOSSSSSSSSSSSSSSTTTTTTTTTT!”

The crowd boos, the crowd cheers, the crowds shouts swears, the crowd yells encouragements, it matters little to Frost. He hoists Sydney up and places her high up on his broad right shoulder. She giggles and waves to the fans. The camera cuts to the commentator’s table.

Axis: “Frost has showed Sydney Sky that he loves her in every way he could think of and now Sky has shown him back.”

King: (sticking his finger in his mouth and making gagging noises) “Well, isn’t that just sweet and lovey-dovey. I think I’ll run down to the monster truck show at the fairgrounds and down some Pabst Blue Ribbon to get the bad taste here out of my mouth.”

Edwin: “There’s a monster truck show at the fairgrounds! SWEET!”

Edwin grabs King up under his arm and pulls him to his feet. Protesting all the way, Edwin jerks King over the nearby guardrail and they disappear into the crowd.

Axis: “It seems that the SJL now has two storybook couples. (he points his thumb behind him) But don’t look for Kind and Edwin to last long. On the other hand, Frost and Sky could now be embarking on a long and joyous union. But how will the events of tonight affect Sky’s standing in XF9? Will it be water under the bridge or a match to burn that bridge? And what does XF9 ally and Sydney Sky admirer Tod deKindes think of all of this? How about the rest of the SJL roster, the good and bad alike? How will Frost fair in his European title defense against TNT after he shamelessly attacked him this evening and with Danny Williams on the Icelander’s near horizon? I’m afraid we don’t have the time to answer those questions here this evening, but tune into the SJL’s new Wrath program this coming Tuesday and we will see about putting it all in perspective for you. Until then, for Edwin MacPhisto and the Suicide King, I’m Axis and I’m wishing you all a good night.”

The camera cuts back to Frost still parading a glowing Sydney Sky on his shoulder around the ring as a small copyright logo pops up at the bottom of the screen and the image of the celebrating couple fades out.

June 14, 2002

It is now about an hour after the camera has faded from Metal. All of the fans are gone. Most of the wrestlers have slumped off to their hotels for the night. The production crew is loading the remainder of the technical equipment onto the semis to usher to the next town and show. Sydney Sky opens the door of her dressing room with a large gym bag over her shoulder and is dressed in very casual clothes for her of blue jeans and a light blue blouse. Frost stands waiting for her with his back leaning up against the wall opposite her door. His hair is still wet from the shower and he wears a leather jacket over his tan khaki slacks.

Frost: “I like my coffee black. I listen to jazz and classical music. My first name is Robert.”

Sky: (with the warmest of smiles) “Robert Frost, like the poet.”

Frost: (nodding his head and allowing himself to return the smile without fear) “Yeah, like the poet.”

The two turn to march up the long hall to the cool night air outside side by side. Sky reaches and out and takes Frost’s huge hand in her much smaller one and she leans into his arm with assured trust and love.

June 14, 2002

Since I'm such a generous individual, you get the show summary along with the rankings top ten all in the same post! Bonus!

Singles Match

Fugue vs. Impact

Winner: Fugue

Singles Match

Kojack vs. Cutthroat

Winner: No Contest (Kojack's Match)

TV Title Match

Winner and still SJL Television Champion: "The Franchise" Mak Francis (Default)

European Title #1 Contendership Match

Mike Van Siclen vs. C.I.A.

Winner: C. I. A. (Default)

Singles Match

Flexxx vs. Tod deKindes

Winner: Tod deKindes (Default)

MAIN EVENT

World Title #1 Contendership Tag Match

Ced Ordonez/Z vs. Sydney Sky/Frost

Winner: Sydney Sky/Frost (new #1 contender: Frost)

Rankings Top Ten

#1. Sydney Sky (46)

#2. "Insane Luchadore" Andrew Rickmen (29)

#3. (tie) Flunkmasta Flexxx (27)

#3. (tie) Mafia (27)

#3. (tie) Poisyn (27)

#6. Frost - SJL European Champion (25)

#7. "Deathwish" Danny Williams - SJL World Champion (20)

#8. "Natural Born Killer" Josh Tupper (19)

#9. Z (17)

#10. "TNT" Taylor Nicholas Thompson (16)

Wrath card should be up in a little while.

SJL Metal, June 13th

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