Sjl Crimson, June 23rd

June 24, 2002

SJL Crimson Card

Venue: The Teco Arena in Fort Myers, Florida!

SINGLES MATCH

Fugue vs. "The Rising Sun" Y2K

-Fugue took a hard loss to Mak Francis on Wrath, and now he looks to get back on his feet against the newest JLer, Y2K...

RETURN MATCH!

Poisyn vs. Silent

-Whoa, whoa, whoa. The mysterious Silent, one of the original Clan members, makes his return to the JL. He goes up against Poisyn in his first match back, which should be interesting, considering that Poisyn has adopted some of the Clan's tactics (i.e., colored mist) while making a name for himself.

RETURN MATCH MARK TWO!

Mike Van Siclen vs. Venom

-Holy shit! Holy shit! It's Venom, it's Venom, it's Venom! A longtime veteran of the fed comes back against the cockiest suckah we have in Mike Van Siclen. Will it be a successful return, or will MVS capitalize on this opportunity to clobber a vet?

TV TITLE MATCH

"The Franchise" Mak Francis © vs. Thor

-Thor bested Kojack on Wrath, while Mak successfully retained against Fugue. Another title defense is up for Mak, but how is he going to handle being faced with such a beast of a man?

SINGLES MATCH

C.I.A. vs. Ced Ordonez

-Why, it's two good wrestlers! They're wrestling each other! Yeah!

SINGLES MATCH

Sydney Sky vs. Z

-Lately Sydney Sky has professed her love for Frost, and the two have had a minor iron grip on the state of the federation. Frost earned his World Title shot in a match with Z and Ced Ordonez, and obviously, as a member of XF9 and of the Frost Fanclub, Syd's got some issues. Tonight, she goes up against XF9 mainstay Z, as hopefully everything gets sorted out.

MAIN EVENT

NON-TITLE THREE-WAY ELIMINATION MATCH

"Deathwish" Danny Williams vs. Insane Luchador vs. Tod deKindes

-Here we go, folks. Out of character, confusions and unfortunate technical errors resulted in IL's match not getting to King in its full form. He gets another shot at Danny here, but Tod deKindes is in on the action too. If either IL or Tod wins the match, they get a shot at Danny on the next show, where Frost will also be contending for the world title...

June 24, 2002

Explosions pound from the speakers as pyro sears the retina, throbbing drumbeats and screaming fans completing the intense sensory experience of the start of SJL Crimson. The noise quiets to a dull roar as the camera zooms over the audience, recording for posterity such witticisms as "Start a Fran¢hi$e Near You", "Sky (heart) Frost" and "I'm Canadian and Intelligent".

"Good evening, fans, and welcome again to SJL Crimson!" Axis beams into the camera. "We've got a great show tonight, featuring a bunch of singles matches, a TV title match, our nontitlethreewayeliminationmatch AAAAAAND...the RETURN of both Silent and Venom!"

"Good boy!" Edwin tosses Axis a small piece of bread spread with Vegemite, and Axis snaps it out of the air.

"A Little Doubt Goes a Long Way" by Reel Big Fish pulses from the arena speakers. Y2K appears at the top of the ramp, glowering at the crowd. His features are hidden by a silvery mask and a long black coat, lending a wraithlike cast to his appearance as he stalks to the ring with Joe Barchini.

"We saw Y2K debut this last Tuesday on the re-inaugural Wrath," Axis notes over the boos of the crowd.

"Scoring a victory over resident SJL whipping-boy Cutthroat," the King adds.

"Hey! Uh..." Edwin frowns, then shrugs. "Oh well, whatever."

The lights go out, plunging the arena into darkness. "Heeeere we go again," says the King. A flurry of piercing organ notes wakes the crowd up. White strobes flash and a figure crosses his arms at the top of the ramp--then a guitar screams and the lights come up to reveal Fugue striding down to the ring, smiling at the crowd. The word 'DUES' is visible on his black shirt. The audience's reaction is decidely mixed; the camera even catches a few Fugue-positive signs in the crowd (e.g. "Fugue Does It Contrapuntally").

"I always knew there was something odd about him," Edwin muses.

Fugue wanders around the ring grinning at anyone he can find, as Y2K imperiously removes his mask and coat and hands them to his manager.

DINGINGING!

"And SJL Crimson is finally underway!" Axis says.

"Thank you for that update, Axis," the King replies.

Y2K circles the smiling Fugue, who sidles away from him. Then suddenly the two men jump at each other, locking up to the cheers of the crowd. Y2K wraps his arm around Fugue's neck, hauling him around, then throws him toward the ropes. Fugue comes back and meets a clothesline from Y2K, hitting the mat hard. Y2K quickly covers, but Fugue kicks out before Mike Kivell can even count one, slithering away from his opponent.

"Y2K with the first cover of the match," Axis notes as the two competitors size each other up again.

Fugue darts forward and grabs Y2K in a collar-and-elbow tie up, then throws him against the ropes. He launches himself forward in a spinning shoulder tackle, crashing into Y2K and sending him down. A quick cover, but Y2K now slips away before Kivell can get into position. Y2K gets to his feet and kicks at Fugue, but Fugue grabs his foot and pulls him down in a leg whip. Y2K scrambles to his feet and moves away, the audience yelling their approval as the two stare at each other across the ring.

Fugue's grin widens, and he bounces back against the ropes, running towards his opponent. Y2K ducks a clothesline, then turns and meets a dropkick from the flying musician. Fugue quickly grabs Y2K's right arm and wraps his legs around it, pulling in several directions at once. Y2K groans, shaking his head when Mike Kivell asks for submission, and rears back to hammer at Fugue's legs with his free hand. After a few moments Fugue releases the hold and scurries away, smiling back at his opponent.

Y2K's eyes burn as he charges forward. Fugue ducks a clothesline, then grabs Y2K around the waist on his return. Arching backward, Fugue suplexes Y2K onto his back, the fans cheering as he bridges into a cover. Kivell slides down to count, One--and Y2K kicks out. The former UWK UK Champion stands and puts the boots to Fugue again, then hauls him up and deals out hard right hands. He spins Fugue around and hauls him up and then down onto his own knee.

"Y2K with a hard atomic drop!" Axis says. "But he's got to be feeling the pain from that Northern Lights Suplex!"

Y2K whips Fugue into the ropes again, jumping forward and meeting him with a knee to the stomach. Fugue's eyes glaze as he tumbles to the mat, his grin glassy. Y2K grins evilly, then turns and ascends the turnbuckle--but Fugue begins to roll, propelling himself out of the ring on the opposite side. The crowd jeers as Y2K gets down and jogs around the ring toward his opponent.

"Uhoh, Fugue's going outside the ring!" Edwin says.

"And he can take even more punishment than he can dish out," the King asserts.

The crowd comes alive as Fugue gets his feet under him and lies in wait around the ring corner, charging forward with a shoulder block as Y2K appears. Both competitors tumble to the black mats. Fugue gets up quickly and hauls Y2K into a sitting position, then jumps up in a forward somersault, yanking Y2K's head back down.

The audience roars as the two men lie groaning outside the ring. "Whoa!" Axis winces. "Fugue put his own body on the line for that necksnap--is he crazy?"

The King peers past Edwin at Axis. "Axis, you KNOW this is Fugue we're talking about, right?"

"Uh. Yeah, I guess it was a silly question." Axis scratches his head.

Both competitors stagger to their feet. Fugue notices Kivell counting and rolls under the ropes--but the enraged Y2K grabs him and pulls him back out, aiming more kicks at Fugue's stomach. Fugue manages to catch the foot again, quickly standing and overbalancing his opponent. Fugue essays a short hop and lands knee-first on Y2K's leg, eliciting a groan of pain. He stands again and looks back and forth at the crowd, grinning at the waves of mingled cheers and boos. "Start the music!" he yells, and the noise redoubles.

"Things look bad for Y2K," Axis narrates.

"They've looked bad since this match was signed," Edwin notes.

Fugue pulls Y2K to his feet and pushes him into the ring. Kivell throws up his hands in frustration and stops counting. Fugue slips under the ropes and takes a step forward, then jumps into the air and turns another somersault, landing back-first on the prone Y2K. He lays there, breathing heavily, then turns his grin on the referee. Kivell starts in surprise and gets down to count, One, Two--and Y2K spasmodically kicks out, stumbling to his feet.

Fugue stalks after his opponent, and aims a punch at his shoulder. Y2K staggers back into the corner, then ducks under the blows and grabs Fugue's legs. The former champion walks forward, holding Fugue's legs on his shoulders--but Fugue holds onto the ropes, his grin still plastered on his face. Y2K glares and tugs at his opponent, then releases him and stumbles away, noticeably limping. Fugue pulls himself up and turns around, smiling at Y2K.

"Fugue counters the attempted Alabama Slam!" Axis says. "Does Y2K have any tricks left?"

"I know Fugue's always got more tricks," the King snickers.

"But he doesn't have any sleeves," Edwin says, frowning.

Fugue bounces off the ropes, then runs across the ring and suddenly dives into a roll. The surprised Y2K is knocked off his feet, and Fugue slithers back to grab Y2K's right arm, sitting on Y2K's back and torquing it hard. Y2K groans and shakes his head as Kivell jabbers at him, then begins to slowly pulls himself toward the ropes as the crowd comes alive.

"The Fujiwara armbar!" Axis cries. "We've seen Fugue inflict terrible pain with this simple move!"

Y2K finally reaches the ropes, and Kivell yells at Fugue to break the hold. Fugue grins at him for several seconds, but lets go of Y2K's arm as Kivell reaches "four". He steps back and watches Y2K get slowly to his feet, a thoughtful smile on his face. Fugue reaches forward and grabs Y2K's right arm, then whips him across the ring. Y2K grimaces as he runs the ropes, but charges his tormentor with a hard clothesline. As Fugue goes down, Y2K raises his foot as if to kick his opponent, but instead sets himself and flips forward in his own senton, grabbing Fugue's leg in a cover. Kivell counts, One, Two--and Fugue kicks out, elbowing Y2K in the head.

"Y2K learned his lesson about those kicks!" Axis comments.

"Eventually," the King adds.

Both wrestlers get to their feet. Y2K quickly grabs Fugue around the waist, then slams him down on his back. He moves down to cover again, but Fugue slides out and aims hard axehandle punches to Y2K's shoulder. Y2K groans and collapses onto his stomach, and Fugue quickly hooks his arms into Y2K's in a full nelson, then flips forward into a bridge.

"The Major Chord!" Axis yells over the crowd's acclaim. "Another incredibly tortuous hold from the sadistic Fugue!"

"And, gee, how much more of this can Y2K take?" the King asks.

Y2K grits his teeth and roars in pain and determination. His legs scramble, trying to get purchase--he gets his legs under him, gasping at the effort of pushing against Fugue's leverage. But after a moment he forces Fugue to move forward, steering them both toward the ropes. After several tense moments Fugue launches himself into a back somersault, undoing the hold and incidentally landing on Y2K's back. Both men roll away from each other, groaning in pain.

"...Ouch!" Axis says, staring.

"Yeah, that about sums it up," the King replies.

Fugue pulls himself to his feet, and stalks after his opponent, a wild grin on his face. Y2K gets up and notices his opponent's approach, staggering up to meet him. Y2K gets in the first punch, but Fugue slaps him across the chest. Y2K groans and kneels in a European uppercut. Fugue reels but knees Y2K in the face, then catches his hair to keep him upright. Fugue grins evilly and knees Y2K again, and then once more, the crowd cheering with each blow. He hauls Y2K to his feet, a trickle of blood running from the former champion's nose.

"My god!" Axis yells. "This is just sadistic!"

"Isn't it wonderful!" the King says cheerily. Edwin swallows, staring at the ring.

Y2K tries a knee, but Fugue catches it. Y2K flails against his opponent, scoring blows to Fugue's ears, but Fugue grabs Y2K's shoulders and rams his forehead against Y2K's. Then he pulls the finally unresisting Y2K around, hooking his arms in a double chickenwing and suddenly jumping backward, sending them both to the mat. Holding Y2K's arms tightly Fugue launches himself over his opponent in a somersault, landing in a perfect bridge as Y2K is folded up beneath him.

"It's Harmony!" Axis yells over the intense waves of noise from the audience. "Fugue's devastating finisher!"

Mike Kivell peers under Fugue at the quivering Y2K, then gets up and signals.

DINGINGING!

"Ahem." Funyon coughs into the mike. "Your winner, by submission...FUUUUUUGUE!"

Fugue grins at the mingled cheers and boos of the crowd...keeping his tortuous hold locked in for just a few moments more before releasing it. He staggers upright as Kivell raises his arm, grinning dazedly at the fans.

"What an intense match that was!" Axis says. He exhales, and shakes his head. "Wow! I love my job!"

Edwin and the King exchange bewildered looks. "Maybe we should switch him to decaf?" the King suggests.

"Stay tuned for more incredible SJL action!" Axis continues. "When we come back from commercial we'll have the return of SILENT for you! WOO!"

June 24, 2002

“Welcome back to the Teco Arena, everyone, for another stunning edition of SJL Crimson! I am Edwin MacPhisto, funny man extraordinaire and commentator deluxe! To my left is the ever-reliable Axis-“

“Good evening.”

“And to my right, the breaker of hearts and rules alike-“

“Shut up, Edwin, would you please?”

”The Suicide King!”

The camera pans swiftly around the sold-out Florida crowd: before returning to the announcer’s table. “Tonight is shaping up to be quite an interesting show, Edwin,” observes Axis. “We’ve just witnessed an impressive contest between Fugue and the newest member of the sWo, Y2K.”

“Righty-o, my large Australian compadre! (That’s Spanish for ‘friend’, you know.)”

“You two are making me ill.”

“Oh, be quiet, King. As I was SAYING, later tonight we have a match between Sydney Sky and Z, both of whom are members of XF9. Sydney’s infatuation with Frost has led to some rather dramatic confrontations between the stablemates. Hopefully, tonight’s bout will do a great deal to smooth out the difference between the two of them.”

“Or it’ll just accelerate the collapse of XF9 even more. You know. Whatever works.”

Edwin shoots a pitying glance at the Suicide King as the arena’s lights go down. “You know, all that pessimism is taking years off of your life.”

“Great. I’ll start obsessing about pandas instead. Do you think that would be a little healthier?”

”You don’t know. It might be,” quips Edwin as Hoobastank’s “Crawling in the Dark” hits the arena’s soundsystem. Purple pyrotechnics blast up from the stage as a think fog begins pouring out of the entrance. The crowd, familiar with the entrance of the sWo’s Poisyn, immediately begins to boo the cocky high-flyer’s entrance.

“These people have no appreciation for pure wrestling skill, do they? They just hear the phrase ‘sWo’ and start booing. What sheep. What lemmings. What-

“What kind of merchandise sales did you just lose with that little tirade? A whole lot. Now shut up.”

Axis hangs his head resignedly as Poisyn enters through the fog with Brianna Flynn at his side. “You two make my job such hell, you know that? Why, God? Why couldn’t I have been a ring announcer instead?”

As if cued by Axis’ outburst, Funyon raises his microphone to his lips, eliciting a small pop from the more…eccentric members of the crowd.

“Ladies and gentlemen, introducing first…being accompanied to the ring by Brianna Flynn, hailing from New Haven, Connecticut, and weighing in at two hundred and twenty-nine pounds, representing the s…W…o…POOIIIIIIIIIISYNNNNNNNN!”

The wrestler formerly known as Matt Myers slides into the ring, a frown etched on his face as he removes his “sWo” t-shirt and flings it into the crowd. He hands his bandanna to Brianna, who gives him a quick peck on the cheek, drawing even more heat from the crowd.

Axis takes advantage of the brief lull in the banter of his two companions to begin commenting on the match about to take place. “Myers, I mean, Poisyn looks very focused here tonight. While this is the first time he’s faced this particular opponent, I’m sure he’s heard the same stories we all have…”

“That’s correct, Axis. Tonight marks the return of one of the most impressive, most talented, most single-minded wrestlers we’ve ever had the privilege of seeing here in the SJL. I’m talking, of course, about-“

“You know, King, I’d just as soon not talk about that little wanker.”

“But, Edwin, you’ve got to help us call the match…compadre. That’s Spanish, you know-“

”YES! Yes, I know that, THANK you, it’s not like I’m-“

Edwin’s witty retort dies on his lips as the lights in the Teco Arena are cut off once again. Hidden spotlights at either end of the stage begin to glow a deep red as the first few chords of “The Sound Of Silence” resonate through the crowd. The Florida fans, not sure what to expect, are silent as well.

It’s appropriate.

“Introducing second, he hails from Phoenix, Arizona, weighing in at two hundred and forty-one pounds, representing the Clan…” Funyon pauses for a moment as the identity of the second wrestler dawns on the arena. A video begins to play on the Smarkstron…a raven…a crucifix…and the Clan.

“Ladies and gentlemen…”

“He’s back…”

”Shut UP, King!”

“SIIIIIIIIIIIIIILENT!”

The crowd explodes in a hail of popcorn containers and half-emptied beer bottles as the Silent One glides eerily through the wisps of fog at the entrance to the stage. Cane clutched in both hands, trenchcoat flowing behind him, he walks-slowly-down the ramp, relishing in the hatred emanating from the crowd with each step he takes.

“The Silent One has returned to the JL after an eight-month hiatus, and he doesn’t look like he’s lost a step at all,” observes Axis. “I don’t think Poisyn understands what kind of a person he’s stepping into the ring with tonight. He better bring his A-game if he wants to score a victory over one of the original Clan members here tonight in Fort Myers, Florida.”

King makes a scoffing sound as Silent deftly slides into the ring. “Axis, let’s be realistic. We’ve never seen Silent’s true potential fulfilled here in the SJL, but Myers has never been at the level we’ve seen Silent perform at night after night. Look at the man. Does he look like somebody who intends to lose his first match back?”

Silent does, indeed, look different. As he tosses his coat and cane to Matthew Kivell, the camera gets a good shot of his face. The camera switches back to the announcer’s table, where Edwin MacPhisto’s face has gone a little bit pale.

“What’s the matter there, Edwin old pal? Friend of yours?”

“No, King. I’ve…I’ve no idea who…that is.”

Silent’s eyes are crystal blue, piercing the heart of Matthew Myers. A short, jagged scar runs across his left eye, a reminder of another battle, fought long ago, in a different time and place than this.

The heat from the crowd is deafening as Silent stands in the center of the ring, waiting on Poisyn to approach from the corner. The sWo member glares daggers at the quiet Clansman as he slowly moves towards his adversary.

“I’ve got to hand it to Poisyn-he doesn’t seem the least bit intimidated by Silent. I don’t think he’s afraid at all, do you, Edwin?”

Edwin is silent for a long moment before answering Axis.

“No, Axis, I don’t think he is.”

”But maybe…he should be.”

**DING DING**

The two wrestlers stand across from each other, neither one budging an inch. Brianna shouts words of encouragement to Poisyn from the safety of the Spanish announce table-Silent doesn’t even bother looking in her direction.

The Clansman slowly- very slowly -extends his arm, offering a test of strength. Poisyn reluctantly accepts, locking hands with his opponent and suddenly lurching against him, trying to overbalance the stronger man. For a moment, neither athlete moves, each gauging the other’s strengths…and weaknesses.

“The test of strength seems to be about ev…woah! Nevermind that, ladies and gentlemen!”

Axis is cut off in mid-sentence as Silent, with the appearance of no more than a shrug, sends the slightly smaller Poisyn crashing to the mat! The high-flyer quickly recovers as the crowd boos mightily, displeased with any display of offense by the Silent One.

The two combatants circle each other once again, a little more warily this time.

“Poisyn is taking his time here, sizing up his opponent. It seems to me that’s the best course of action right now, unless we-“

”It’s not.”

Axis and King both glance over at Edwin, who is watching the match with a degree of intensity uncommon to the happy-go-lucky Carnie.

King is the first to speak. “What do you mean, ‘it’s not’?”

Edwin shrugs. “It’s not the best way to fight Silent, I think. Poisyn needs to keep moving if he wants to win. That’s all.”

As if MacPhisto had spoken directly into his ear, Poisyn goes on the offensive, catching Silent in the chest with a stiff crescent kick. The Clansman winces, but doesn’t budge, drawing a low murmur from the crowd. Poisyn, a little disconcerted, backs up a few steps, and then lunges swiftly forward with a superkick, catching Silent square in the jaw. The Clansman takes an involuntary step backwards and raises a hand to his jaw. Fire in his eyes, he closes the distance with the high-flyer quickly- too quickly- and, almost faster than the eye can see, drives the surprised Myers into the canvas with a picture-perfect STO.

“Whoo!” exclaims King as Silent goes to work on Poisyn, driving his boots into the ribs and back of the smaller man. “Ring rust? What’s that?”

“Amazing!” hisses Axis. “I’ve seen much bigger men put down for the three-count by a superkick, and Silent just took Poisyn’s like it was nothing!”

”Maybe he didn’t get the angle quite right on that kick,” says Edwin. “It’s possible that he just didn’t…”

“And maybe,” suggests King as Myers finds a small amount of sanctuary underneath the bottom rope, “Maybe this is going to be a massacre instead of a match, hmm?”

Instead of letting Kivell check on Poisyn, Silent roughly shoves everybody’s favorite jobberee aside and yanks Poisyn to his feet. The Clansmen twists his opponent’s arm slightly to the right before whipping him across the ring. As Poisyn comes bounding back, he tries to catch Silent off his guard with a high running cross body. As the high-flyer makes contact, Silent catches him with both arms, hoists him up onto his shoulders, and drops him headfirst on the mat with a Death Valley Driver.

“Incredible display of power by the returning Silent! As much as I hate to agree with you, King, I think you’re right about the Silent One- he doesn’t seem to have any ring rust on him whatsoever!”

Not wanting to waste any time, Silent hauls Poisyn to his feet once again. Grabbing ahold of his opponent’s left arm, Silent pulls him straight into a vicious clothesline, driving Poisyn back down to the mat with a wet thudding sound. The Clansman maintains his hold on Poisyn’s arm and yanks him to his feet, only to deliver a second short-arm clothesline to his dazed adversary. Silent releases his grip on Myers’ arm, only to drop a series of elbows on his unprotected chest.

“One! Two! Three! Come on, Edwin, have a little fun! Count with me!”

“King, you need seri-“

“Four! Five!”

“-Ional help.”

“Six! Seven! Eight! Cover!”

ONE!

TWO!

“Poisyn manages to kick out, but he’s lost a lot of momentum early on in this match! If he can’t find a way to get Silent off his feet, this contest is going to be over rather quickly!”

The sWo’s resident high-flyer rolls dazedly away from Silent towards the ropes, which he uses to pull himself up onto his unsteady feet. Brianna cries out at ringside as the Clansman approaches, takes hold of Poisyn and whips him into the ropes.

Silent drops to his stomach as Myers comes bounding back across the ring, forcing him to leap over the Silent. He quickly to his feet and turns to face Poisyn, who comes racing back across the ring, and leapfrogs clear over him, drawing a few “Ohs” and “Ahs” from the wrestling fans at ringside.

“An impressive display of agility by Silent, which you really do have to appreciate whether you like him or not. Right, Edwin?”

“Sure, King. Whatever floats that egomaniacal boat of yours.”

Poisyn comes bouncing off the ropes for a third time, but this time he slides beneath Silent’s legs. Using his moment of surprise to his advantage, Poisyn, without moving from the ground, delivers two swift, well-placed shin kicks to Silent’s left leg, then spins around and sweeps the Clansman’s legs out from under him, drawing a pop from the Florida crowd.

“Listen to that, gentlemen. When’s the last time you heard a JL crowd CHEER for a member of the sWo?”

“Seems like our pal Edwin isn’t the only person in the building that doesn’t appreciate Silent, doesn’t it, Axis?”

Not wanting to lose the approval of the fans (however briefly he might have it), Poisyn kips up from the ground and lands a flipping leg drop across the throat of his downed opponent…but instead of staying down, Silent also kips up from the mat, almost beating Poisyn to his feet!

“Silent can take a hell of a lot of punishment, folks, we’ve seen that from him before. Poisyn needs to pull out all the stops tonight if he’s going to have a chance to win this match.”

As Silent steadies himself, Poisyn bounds off the ropes and looks to land a spinning wheel kick, but his opponent sees it coming and quickly ducks the blow. Poisyn rolls through and springs to his feet, looking to keep his momentum going, but he’s met instead with a vicious lariat from the Clansman, sending him crashing down to the canvas, clutching at his throat.

The Silent One hoists Myers up from the match and cinches him up for a delayed vertical suplex. Silent holds his opponent up in the air for a few seconds, relishing in the boos and catcalls being hurled by the crowd, before dropping his sWo opponent to the mat. Silent keeps ahold of Poisyn and pulls him to his feet again, transitions into a waistlock, and flips him over with an audible grunt into a gutwrench suplex.

“Impressive locomotion suplexes by Silent-“

“King, shut up. I’m trying to watch the match.”

The Suicide King shakes his head disapprovingly at Edwin. “Tsk, tsk, tsk. Somebody’s a little bit touchy this evening.”

Silent, not quite finished, pulls Poisyn to his feet once more. The sadist wraps his arms around Poisyn’s neck and underneath his left arm and hoists him into the air, dropping him on his neck and shoulders with a stiff head-and-arm suplex.

“There’s the cover!” yells Axis.

ONE!

TWO!

Poisyn flails out wildly with his right arm to break the pin, almost hitting Matthew Kivell in the jaw in the process.

“Silent’s taking his time in the ring, wearing down the high-flying Poisyn one move at a time…”

Silent waits, a slight grin visible on his face, as Poisyn pulls himself to his feet. Brianna yells words of encouragement from ringside as her companion charges across the ring at the Silent One.

Silent swings his arm out with disturbing quickness, looking to catch the faster man with a lariat, but the high-flyer ducks his clothesline, hooks both Silent’s arms in a full nelson, and pulls back with all his might, dropping his surprised opponent to the canvas!

Edwin MacPhisto and the crowd both come alive with this sudden turn of events. “See, now, THAT’S what I’m talking about! Silent made a small mistake right there, and if Poisyn takes advantage, then he could end the match right here!”

Poisyn, only too aware of Edwin’s observation, is already speeding towards the side ropes. He leaps onto the second rope, quickly looks behind him, and catapults backwards, hitting the prone Clansman with The Withered moonsault!

The Teco Arena crowd is on their feet as Myers makes his way to the left turnbuckle and begins to climb it. “Myers might be able to put Silent away right now if he can connect with one of his trademark high-impact moves!” yells Axis, and Myers does not disappoint!

“POISYN DROP! POISYN DROP! Myers could have this match in the bag!” screams Edwin. The Suicide King only frowns as Kivell drops down to make the count!

ONE!

TWO!

“And Silent kicks out…with AUTHORITY, I might add!” smiles King as the crowd –and Edwin- groans.

“I said it before, King, Silent can take a hell of a lot of abuse in one sitting, and I think Poisyn’s going to need a little bit of luck in addition to a whole lot of speed in order to win.”

Poisyn is a little astonished by Silent’s stamina, but he only hesitates for a moment before hauling the Silent One to his feet. Poisyn presses his advantage, delivering a series of swift martial arts-style kicks to Silent’s midsection, slowly driving him across the ring.

“One! Two! Three! Four! King, you’re not counting! Count with me!” grins Edwin as Silent staggers back, one anguished step at a time.

Myers culminates his assault with a vicious palm strike, knocking Silent backwards into the ropes. The Florida crowd and Brianna Flynn cheer their approval, and Myers turns for a brief moment to acknowledge them both.

“Yeah, shotei! Yeah, Poisyn! Yeah, pandas!”

“Shut up, Edwin.”

“Sorry, Axis. You know how it is.”

“I haven’t the slightest…Poisyn has the advantage right now, but he needs to press it! Playing to the crowd is all well and good, but when you’re in the ring with somebody like Silent, every single second counts!”

Poisyn turns from his newly-acquired fans, sizes up his opponent, and aims his educated feet squarely at Silent’s head, but the Clansman dodges the blow at the very last second! Poisyn turns to meet his opponent, but instead gets acquainted with the sole of his boot!

“My God, what a superkick that was! Silent weighs more than two hundred forty pounds…how the hell does he move that FAST?”

The Teco Arena emits a sympathetic groan at the sound of Silent’s boot meeting Poisyn’s chin.

“Ewww. Poisyn dropped to the mat like a bag of pandas…bricks, I mean. Not pandas. Bricks. I meant to say bricks.”

Silent paces briefly about the ring, shaking off the effects of his opponent’s martial arts assault. The Clansman slowly rotates his neck, shrugs his shoulders, and advances on Poisyn, who lies underneath the bottom rope, holding his jaw.

Silent grabs hold of Poisyn’s right leg and drags him into the center of the ring. The Silent One drives his elbow into the right thigh of his opponent before applying a leg lock. Myers lets out a grunt of surprise as Silent wrenches backwards on his knee and hip.

“It looks like Silent has had enough of Poisyn’s high-impact style. I think he’s going to work that leg as much as he can to try and ground Myers for the rest of this matchup.”

Kivell checks to see if Poisyn submits – he doesn’t- so Silent rises to his knees while maintaining the leg lock, and begins driving his knees directly into Myers’ hamstring. Brianna screams almost as loud as Poisyn does, and the crowd matches them both as the Clansman continues his relentless assault on his opponent’s right leg.

Finally, at the behest of the referee, Silent releases the hold, but not before delivering one final, swift kick to the back of Poisyn’s knee. The resounding slap of the kick can be heard throughout the arena as Brianna rushes to ringside to tend to her fallen companion.

“Good Lord, Edwin, did you see the way Silent stepped into that kick? He may have broken Poisyn’s kneecap just then!”

”It’s quite possible, Axis. Silent is a mean, mean bastard, and if he has to break a few bones to get a win here and there, then that’s exactly what he’ll do.”

Brianna’s time with Poisyn is short-lived, however, as Silent hauls him literally to his feet, grabs hold of his opponent’s injured right leg, and takes him down to the mat again with a lightning-quick Dragon Screw, which he segues into a standing leg lock. Silent keeps the pressure on Poisyn’s hip and knee as Matthew Kivell checks for a submission.

“Silent’s slowed the pace of this match down pretty drastically, and I don’t see much that Poisyn can do about it unless the Clansman makes a big mistake here somewhere.”

“And as I’m sure you’ve both noticed,” chimes the Suicide King, “He doesn’t make mistakes very often.”

Annoyed by the ineffectuality of the standing leg lock, Silent gradually converts it into a half-crab, placing one foot on Poisyn’s head to make the hold more difficult to escape. Poisyn tries in vain to roll out or forwards, anything to escape the half-crab, but Silent’s boot keeps his head wedged squarely against the mat.

The referee bends to check Poisyn for a submission, and Silent lowers his head to taunt his opponent…but that proves to be a fatal mistake, as Poisyn swings his good leg up into the face of the Clansman!

The crowd roars with applause as Silent staggers back into the corner, releasing his hold on Myers. Struggling valiantly to his feet, the high-flying Poisyn limps over to his dazed opponent, slaps on a front facelock, ands drives him to the canvas with The Memory!

ONE!

TWO!

”Silent kicks out, and Poisyn finally has some breathing room! But how long will it last, and will he be able to capitalize on it with that injured leg?”

Both men are down momentarily as the referee begins his ten-count. Poisyn is the first to his feet, noticeably favoring his right leg as he steps over Silent. Poisyn vaults up to the top rope to prepare for a follow-up high-impact maneuver…but he slips on the top rope and hits his leg against the turnbuckle!

The crowd watches, shocked, as Poisyn screams in pain and crashes back to the mat, clutching at his knee. Silent, who is begin to stir on the canvas, notices this, and a devilish grin spreads across his face as he slowly stands.

“I think Poisyn’s leg just gave out on him! Silent’s going in for the kill!”

Almost the instant those words leave Axis’ mouth, Silent hooks the half-crab on Poisyn’s right leg once again. Dragging him back into the center of the ring, Silent makes a point to drive his boot into Poisyn’s head a few times to add insult to injury. The high-flyer strives valiantly for five seconds…ten…fifteen…twenty…but the pain proves to be too much for him, and Poisyn is forced to tap out.

**DING DING**

“Your winner by submission…SIIIIIIIIIIIIILENT!”

Nevermore’s “The Sound Of Silence” hits the speakers once again as the returning Silent raises his arms in victory. He takes his trenchcoat and cane back from one of the ringside attendants and poses for a moment in the traditional Clan crucifix position before turning to leave the ring.

“An impressive victory for the returning Silent here on Crimson- wait, what is Poisyn doing?”

“Your Poisyn! Your Poisyn! Poisyn just hit Silent with the…oh no…”

The cheers of the crowd die down as they see the sadist sidestep Poisyn’s black mist and almost casually hoist the injured sWo member onto his shoulders. He extends his arms briefly in the crucifix pose…before swinging Poisyn around and down, driving his head into the canvas with a sickening smack.

“I have it on good authority that Silent calls that move ‘The Sound of Silence’,” whispers King, as Silent trains his gaze on the announce table. “The Sound of Silence” fades slowly away as we break to a commercial.

The last image the camera captures before the commercial break is Silent grinning madly at…at…

At Edwin MacPhisto?

June 24, 2002

[“Light me up!”

The picture suddenly returns to the Crimson stage as the beat from Cassanova 419’s “Light Me Up” starts to pound through the arena. “Come on, come on, come on, LIGHT THAT FU**ER up!”

An explosion comes from the top of the Tron, showering white sparks on the stage and illuminating a muscular, ghostly gray figure walks down the isle. The music continues as Mike Van Siclen grins at the crowds oncoming boos. He slides into the ring and flips his hair dramatically, showing off what he obviously believes are dashing good looks. Funyon raises the microphone to his lips.]

Funyon: The following contest is scheduled for ONE fall! Now entering the ring, from Harrison, Illinois, weighing in at two-hundred thirty-seven pounds, the Amazin’ One: MIIIKE VA-AN SIIIIC-LEEEEEN!

Axis: ‘Allo, fans! And welcome back to SJL Crimson! This is quite a match we have coming up!

King: Why’s that?

Edwin: Because, you noob, we get to see the return of a long-absent superstar!

King: Which one?

[On King’s words, the lights suddenly cut out…

“I’m not the one who’s so far away,

When I feel the Snake Bite enter my veins.”

The crowd goes positively insane as two green pyros arc down towards the stage and Godsmack’s “Voodoo” once again echoes through a JL arena. The crowd gets even louder as a familiar figure appears at the stage and looks around the arena.]

Funyon: Aaaand, his opponent, from Grand Rapids, Michigan, he weighs in at two-hundred and ten pounds…VENOM!

[Venom walks slowly down the ramp. The noise is positively deafening, and Axis needs to shout over the cacophony.]

Axis: Venom has returned to the JL!! The fans are on their feet! Good GOD, what an ovation!

King: Who is this bozo?

Edwin: Bozo? This is VENOM! One of the rising stars of the JL!

Axis: Venom was taken down not to long ago by a mysterious attacker.

[At this time, Venom has slid into the ring. His eyes never go towards Van Siclen, who looks rather heated about it. He goes straight to the turnbuckle and, to an even greater ovation, raises his hand high in the air with his head tilted back. He remains there for a few moments as his music plays, then gets down from the turnbuckle and walks across the ring to the other to repeat his pose. Flashbulbs flicker to catch a picture of the returning star.]

Axis: Before this match, Venom could not be reached to comment about what happened to him almost half a year ago, when he was ambushed in the hallways of an arena by an armed assailant.

King: Blah, blah, blah. I’m sure he deserved it, the fed probably didn’t lose anything as a result.

Edwin: Well, KING, the fans certainly seem to think so?

[The fans continue their uproar as Venom finishes his poses on the final turnbuckle. He climbs down and, for the first time, casts his eyes on Siclen. With a flick of his finger, Matthew Kivell signals for the match to start and the ringing of the bell goes through the arena. Siclen and Venom slowly circle the ring, Venom’s expression never changing. Siclen fakes towards Venom, stomping the mat as if to charge, but his opponent doesn’t even flinch. Suddenly, Siclen goes right into Venom’s face, throwing a fast amount of profanity. Being a head taller than Venom, Siclen talks down to him. Venom’s face is impassive as MVS continues his tirade. Slowly, a smirk runs across Venom’s face. Siclen’s blonde hair accentuates the change of his face color to a bright red. He reaches up a hand and punches Venom across the chin. Venom’s head snaps to the side and stays there as the crowd boos Siclen’s actions.]

Axis: Siclen taking exception to Venom’s candor, I think. I don’t think he should have done that.

King: Why not?

Edwin: You’re about to find out.

[Venom’s head slowly comes back to face Siclen, his mouth now straight. Siclen shouts down at Venom…]

“Whatcha gonna do about it, then?”

[Venom stands there for a few seconds before another smile slowly crosses his lips. Siclen’s face begins turning red, but before he can raise a hand again, before anyone in the arena can blink, Venom’s foot comes up swiftly, landing in Siclen’s gut before the returning star grabs him around the neck and nails a lightning fast DDT!]

King: WHAT THE HELL!!

Edwin: King, meet VENOM!

[The crowd goes nuts as Venom pulls up the now dazed Siclen. He grabs the man’s tights with one hand and his neck with the other and tosses Siclen through the first two ropes. MVS lands with a sickening thud to the outside as Venom climbs through the ropes and stands on the apron. MVS slowly climbs to his knees, then to his feet, looking up in just enough time see Venom’s feet smash into his face. He falls onto the announce table, and slides to his knees once more.]

Axis: And a missle dropkick from Venom to the outside!

Edwin: Yep, same old Venom!

King: What is this? Hey, what are you doing?!

[Venom drags Siclen to his feet, then suddenly rams his face into the announce table. Siclen bounces off with a thud before returning to his kneeling posture. Venom once again drags him to his feet and once again introduces him to the announce table’s hard surface.]

King: Common, now! REF!

[As if magically summoned by King’s voice, Matthew Kivell hops out of the ring, screaming various “get back in the ring” instructions at Venom. Hearing this, Venom’s head whips around as he gives Kivell a cold, green stare.]

Axis: Venom giving the referee a look that would strip the paint off a fence!

[Venom turns his attention to Van Siclen, but too late. The opponent, who is now on his feet, jabs a stiff elbow into Venom’s stomach. Siclen repeats the hard hit, doubling Venom over. Siclen uses this moment to place Venom’s chin on his shoulder and drop down.]

Axis: And Siclen hits a sitdown jawbreaker on a distracted Venom!

[Venom springs up from the move, holding his jaw in pain. He staggers to the ring, leaning on it for a moment before turning around right into a clothesline. Venom’s back hits the padding with a sickening splat as Siclen leans on the ring, catching his breath.]

Axis: And just like that, the momentum changes, if Siclen can capitalize.

[Matthew Kivell’s pleas are finally answered as Siclen picks Venom up and tosses him under the ropes. Venom struggles to his feet as Siclen enters the ring, but Siclen doesn’t give him a chance to retaliate. He runs at Venom and grabs the back of his opponent’s head with both hands, bringing Venom’s face to the canvas. He quickly rolls Venom over and hooks the leg into a pin.]

Kivell: ONE!

TW…

Axis: Siclen tries a cover with the face crusher but gets one and a half.

King: Damn slow counts!

[The action continues in the ring as Siclen pulls Venom to his feet, locking on a chokehold.]

King: AH! You know what he’s gonna do now!

Axis: Siclen has the headlock on Venom, he brings him up…

[And plants him down into a choking jawbreaker. Venom once again grabs his jaw as he flops down to the canvas.]

Axis: Venom is in trouble here, Siclen is working that jaw. We’ve seen this many times before. Venom needs to gain some momentum here.

[siclen smiles and poses to the crowd, gaining a round of boos from the fans. He walks away from the center of the ring where he has left Venom lying. He plants his feet and sets his eyes on Venom.]

Axis: Looks like Siclen is looking for a spear.

[indeed, as Venom gets to his feet, still favoring his jaw, Siclen looks ready to pounce. As Venom begins to straighten his back, Siclen charges straight towards him. Suddenly, Venom snaps up, and before a shocked Siclen can stop, he runs straight into a sky-high powerbomb! The crowd comes to their feet as both men hit the canvas and roll away form each other.]

Axis: There it is!

Edwin: Sky-high counter from Venom! Boy this kid is full of tricks!

King: Riiiight…common Mike!

[The referee begins a ten count, holding his hands in the air with each second. The crowd begins to stomp, clap, and cheer, creating a wave of sound that carries through the entire building. At the count of seven, both men are returning to their feet. The referee stops the count as the two charge each other. Venom whips out his arm, taking Siclen down into an arm drag. Both men are back up just as quickly and charging again. Venom hits another arm drag, taking Siclen once again to the canvas. This time, as Siclen gets back up, he backs up to the ropes, trying to gain time, but Venom advances on him, and whips him towards the ropes at the other side of the ring. As Siclen returns, Venom quickly hooks their arms together and hurtles Siclen over his head! MVS lands with a sickening slam on the canvas.]

Axis: What a belly-ta-belly! Belly-ta-belly suplex from Venom!

[Venom quickly stands up and bounces off the ropes, heading straight towards the fallen Siclen. Venom drops down, driving both of his elbows into the prone man’s chest. He hooks the leg quickly as the referee drops down.]

Kivell: “ONE!

TWO!

THR-TWO!!”

Axis: And Siclen reaches down and kicks out. Oh, what a move by Venom, but it’s not enough to put MVS away!

King: Of COURSE it isn’t!

[Venom rolls off of Siclen than jumps to a standstill. Waiting for his opponent to get to his feet, Venom bounces off the ropes and charges Siclen. Before they collide, Venom leaps up in the air and wraps his arm around Siclen’s neck, swinging around and bringing MVS hard onto his back.]

Axis: And Venom with a neckbreaker takedown. This crowd is going crazy for Venom, who is making a startling return to the JL!

[Venom leaps to his feet and dashes to the ropes. While he is climbing them, he does not notice Siclen slowly get to his knees. Venom is postured on the top turnbuckle and turns just in time to see Siclen stumble into the ropes. He bounces off and falls to the ground, jarring Venom’s position and sending him down into the pain no man should experience. Venom grabs his affected area with a gasp as his eyes roll into the back of his head.]

Axis: OOH! And Venom gets put into a very awkward position on the top rope.

King: Looks like there won’t be any little Venom’s running around! HA!

[ Siclen slowly gets to his feet and climbs to turnbuckle to join Venom. The referee begins giving a rather useless admonishment as Siclen gives Venom a right hook before hooking an arm around his neck. Siclen holds a fist into the air as he stands, dragging Venom into a standing position on the turnbuckle as well. With one swift move, Siclen turns around and uses his body weight to force Venom downward. In a move that looks like an inverted Final Cut, Venom falls from the top rope and slams face first into the canvas below.]

Axis: Code Red! Siclen just hit the Code Red on Venom from the top rope! God GOD!

King: Looks like Venom can kiss winning his first match back GOODBYE!

[siclen, who is still stunned from his own move, crawls over to Venom. He lays a weak arm over the man’s chest and the referee goes down for the pincount.]

Kivell: ONE!

TWO!

THRE-TWO!

[A giant scream comes collectively from the crowd as Venom’s shoulder rockets off the canvas right before Kivell’s hand hits the mat. Siclen rolls off of Venom and gawks at the referee.]

King: WHAT!? That was THREE!

Axis: Venom got the shoulder up!

Edwin: Same ol’ Venom alright.

King: That’s not right! No one can kick out of that!

Edwin: Venom’s been in and won THREE last man standing matches! Never think that the fight’s out of him!

[siclen, abashed at what he obviously feels to be an unfair count, gets into the referee’s face. Skinny Kivell doesn’t stand too tall against six foot four MVS as he is verbally pushed across the ring.]

Axis: And Siclen is arguing with the referee, he might want to keep his mind on the match.

[As if Axis’s words have summoned the hand of fate, Venom begins to climb groggily to his feet and leans on the turnbuckle, trying to regain his senses. Spotting Siclen distracted across the ring, he charges the corner. Siclen turns around just in time, managing to step out of the way and force Venom straight into Kivell, who is sandwiched between the oncoming wrestler and the turnbuckle. Venom bounces off, and both men flop motionless to the ground.]

Axis: And Siclen just ran Venom right into the referee!

[Venom, made of stronger stuff than most referees, starts to get to his feet even before Kivell twitches. He drags himself to his feet, not noticing Siclen standing right behind him, obviously tensed for a move.]

King: Ooooh, I think we’ll get to see it! Get ready!

[Venom comes fully to his feet, but barely has enough time to breath before Siclen locks in a Tazzmission hold. Venom’s arms flail and his eyes go wide as he fights to get out of the hold.]

Axis: Van Siclenmision! MVS has the Van Siclenmission on Venom, but there’s no referee!

[Venom’s flailings become slower and slower before his arms finally slump. Siclen gets a triumphant look on his face as he looks around the ring and apparently sees the fallen referee for the first time. With a huff of disgust, he releases the now limp Venom. The man crumples to the canvas and remains unconscious as Siclen walks over to Kivell and peers down on him. With a sickening smile, Siclen stands and walks out of the ring, heading towards the announcer’s table.]

Axis: What’s this, what’s Siclen doing…OH COME ON!

[With a CLANG, Siclen has folded up his weapon.]

Axis: Siclen’s got a steel chair, and there’s no referee to stop this!

[The light of the arena glints off of the blue steel in Siclen’s hands as the crowd boos and hisses the actions in the ring. Venom is still out cold as Siclen places the steel chair next to him.]

Axis: What is this sick individual going to do here?

[siclen reaches down and grabs the back of Venom’s neck, hauling the limp man off the canvas. Venom’s feet wobble as they try and support the dead weight of his body. With one last smirk, Siclen grabs Venom’s neck and swings him around into a tornado X-Factor, impacting his face straight into the steel chair. The audience gives a groan as the CLANG of the steel chair can be heard against Venom’s skull. Siclen stands slowly, then kicks the chair out of the ring. He turns Venom over and hooks his leg into a cover. Kivell finally begins to stir and crawls over to the middle of the ring. After a good six seconds, he makes it and raises his hand weakly.]

Kivell: One…

Two…

Thre-

King: THREE! THREE! NO WAY! NO WAY!!

Axis: Venom’s shoulder just came off of the canvas and Siclen cannot believe it!

Edwin: Waaahooo! Told this guy was good, King!

Axis: Venom ONCE AGAIN avoids the three count, and Siclen is BESIDE himself!!

[siclen is raging all over the ring. His face has turned a bright shade of red as he screams as the still supine Kivell. Venom amazingly starts to stir, but Siclen will have none of that. Stomping over to Venom, but pulls him up to his feet and clocks up with a right hand. Venom stumbles back, but Siclen continues, sending another right hand into Venom’s jaw. MVS rears back once again with the intent of knocking out Venom’s teeth, but as he swings, Venom ducks! Siclen turns around with a shocked look on his face, only to see Venom wrapping arms around him and tossing him with a belly-to-belly!]

Axis: And Venom hits a desperation move! A belly to belly suplex that Siclen didn’t even see coming!

[both men lay motionless in the ring, Venom’s eyes are closed and his chest rises and falls rapidly, trying to regain the breath so recently stolen from him. Siclen rolls around, holding his back in pain before finally coming to a rest. Kivell, who has now managed to stand, holds his hands in the air.]

Kivell: ONE!

Axis: And both Siclen and Venom are down!

Kivell: TWO!

Edwin: I booked this match! Do I know ratings or WHAT?

[The crowd begins to shake the arena, stomping their feet and clapping their hands in support of their superstar.]

Kivell: THREE!

King: Common Siclen! This match should be OVER!

Kivell: FOUR!

Axis: That’s right, it should’ve ended when Siclen brought an ILLEGAL steel chair into the ring!

Kivell: FIVE!

King: Ah, shaddup, you’re just as stupid as the referee!

Kivell: SIX!

[in the ring, the two men begin to stir. Venom slowly comes to his feet alongside Siclen, and as soon as they stand, Siclen throws a right hand, clocking Venom in the jaw. Venom retaliates with a punch of his own, and the two exchange a flurry of blows, the volume of the audience increasing exponentially with each one. Suddenly, Venom ducks a punch and sends a kick straight into Siclen’s gut! Wasting no time, Venom grabs MVS’s tights and his neck into a suplex hold and hits a clean snap suplex!]

Axis: And Venom gains the advantage! Venom is going into the Trance!

[Venom drags Siclen off of the canvas, keeping the suplex lock on. As soon as they stand, he hits another clean snap suplex. The crowd gives an ovation as he drags Siclen up one more time. He tugs at MVS, but this time, Siclen doesn’t move. Venom tugs again, but this time MVS worms free and plants a knee into Venom before hooking his arms and planting him into a crucifix DDT! Venom’s head hits the canvas with a thud, and Siclen stumbles to the ropes, trying desperately to support himself. MVS staggers over to Venom and pulls him to his feet before whipping into the ropes.]

Axis: He might be setting up for the Van Slaminator!

[Venom bounces off the ropes and returns to the waiting MVS, who visibly hesitates before bending down and sending Venom hurtling overhead with a back body drop.]

Axis: And Siclen gets cold feet on the Van Slaminator! He’s avoided using that move ever since it cost him months of grueling injury!

King: It doesn’t matter! Look, Venom is down, and MVS is ready for him!

Axis: Venom is on the canvas and Siclen might be looking for the spear!

[siclen stands crouched in the corner, staring down Venom, who begins to rise to his feet, his back to MVS. Waiting for the right moment, Siclen charges towards Venom, who turns around…]

Axis: OH MY GOD!

[in a split second, Venom snaps into action. Using Siclen’s own momentum against him, Venom tosses the larger star into a monkey press before jumping after him and burying a knee into his gut. Flashbulbs flicker across the arena and the crowd roars in approval as they come down together and Venom’s knee gets driven even deeper into Siclen’s stomach. Siclen bounces off the knee and falls to the canvas, clutching his stomach as Venom clutches his knee.]

Axis: SNAKE BITE!! SNAKE BITE!! Venom got the Snake Bite on MVS! Oh my GOD how quick was THAT?

King: AH! Impossible!

Edwin: Methinks Siclen’s about to get a little taste of what Venom is all about…

[Venom slowly gets to his feet, favoring his right knee. He heads towards the turnbuckle and begins to climb it as the crowd goes absolutely ape.]

Axis: This is it! Venom’s about to peg this match!

[He reaches the top turnbuckle, then crouches. Siclen begins to rise slowly, still in agony from the Snake Bite. As soon as he rises, he is met with a flying Venom, who wraps a pair of arms around Siclen’s neck, twisting him into a tornado DDT. Siclen’s head slams into the canvas with a sickening thud as Venom rolls with the move]

Axis: And Siclen just received a full helping of TRUE FEAR!!

[Venom quickly gets to his knees quickly and hooks the leg into a cover. Kivell’s shouts are inaudible among the crowd’s yelling.]

Crowd: ONE!

TWO!

THREE!!

[The bell rings and “Voodoo” hits the arena once again as the crowd goes simply wild. Venom rolls off of Siclen and stands as Kivell raises his hand.]

Funyon: Here is your winner….VENOM!

Axis: And Venom has won his return match to the SJL!!

Edwin: Venom is back, and better than before! Don’t look so glum, King!

King: Hrmph…

[Venom walks across the ring and motions to Funyon, who hands him a mike. The crowd screams as he lifts it to his lips…]

Venom: It’s been 5 long months since I have been in this ring, 5 long months since I was attacked by some COWARD from behind. (He is breathing hard from his excursion in the ring). But now, Venom is back in the SJL, and rest assure, his presence will be known.

[The crowd cheers as Venom’s eyes flash with a dangerous light.]

Venom: One by one, they will find out. One by one, till I find HIM. The JL better keep their eyes open because they never know when I will strike. And, one by one, just like Mr. Siclen, they will taste my venom, and they will KNOW TRUE FEAR!

[The crowd finishes the phrase with him before erupting in a new chorus of cheers as his music once again starts. He climbs the nearest turnbuckle and lifts his arm high in the air, tilting his head back.]

King: Who is this freak?!

Axis: Venom has returned, but there’s still more to come tonight! The TV title is on the line NEXT!

[Fade to commercial]

Crusen Sez: PARAGRAPHS DAMMIT!

June 24, 2002

We see on the SmarkTron, a shot of Thor walking in the back, his cape swaying as he walks. He lifts up his hammer and tightens his grip on it with both his hands. He glances down at the hammer for only a second and looks back up, his face ever a stone of intensity. As he walks down the hallway, camera men, and tech crew scurry out of the way of this towering behemoth, as he makes his long, graceful stride to the curtain. He approaches the area where the technicians prompt the wrestler to clear the curtain and make their entrance to the ring. Thor moves towards the curtain and passes a corner, the prompters in sight.

As he rounds the corner, he stops and sees Tyler Kinkel, coach of Mak Francis. His glaring eyes move over the little man. “Your not ready for the TV champion.” the little man says, a bit too confident in confronting a God. Thor gets a little smile in the corner of his mouth “Kinkel, I say thee nay. The God of Thunder hast done much preparing to combat thine prodigy. If the villainous sWo doth stay out of mine way, I shalt have little difficulty in taking the glorious Television Championship belt. And you Tyler Kinkel, you hadst better keep thine distance from me as thou hast angered the God of Thunder and if thou doth wish to keep safe, I would stay clear of ringside tonight. I am well prepared to battle the TV champion.” Thor pushes Kinkel by the face out of his way and walks on by.

Thor suddenly stops and hears a voice say “Are you sure your ready?” Thor turns and looks but he gets cross-checked by Mak Francis into a wall. Thor stumbles after the shot and Francis shows a bit of his vicious side as he pummels the head of Thor with vicious lefts and rights. Thor is taken by surprise and can barely fight back, as he attempts to motion to fight back, the assault by The Franchise is too great and brings the God of Thunder to his knees. Francis yells at his nearby manager Tyler Kinkel “Hand me my damned belt!” Kinkel happily responds and gives The Franchise his TV title belt. The champion holds up his belt with both hands to his side and exclaims rather sadistically “Lets see if a God can bleed!” Kinkel cackles with laughter as his prodigy rears back and swings hard with the belt at the head of the kneeling Thor. Thor falls over upon impact of the belt, a sickening crack, and hits the tile floor with a dull thud.

Kinkel comes over to Mak and pats him on the back, both warmly and excitedly, and says “Good work, now tonight we wont have any problem defending the TV title!” Mak agrees and pats Kinkel on the shoulder, his eyes never leaving Thor’s body. Mak sets one knee on the floor and leans over to Thor, who is laying on the cold tile floor, grimacing in pain, his head is bleeding as indeed the mortal form carries a price. Francis whispers, softly but audibly “You see this?” Mak holds up his belt to Thor’s face, “This belt is mine, and that is why I get the franchise bucks, the franchise perks and the franchise tag!”

Kinkel and Francis walk off towards the curtain, as The Franchise exclaims “Aww man, now I’ve got blood on my belt.” Both manager and champion laugh as the camera pans back to see Thor still lying there in a pool of his own blood. Several tech-guys approach Thor and holler something about getting an EMT. Francis’ theme music can be heard as tech-guys scurry. Upon hearing this Thor tries to stand up, he almost jumps in the air but his body is weary from the beating and he only gets to his knees. An EMT reaches Thor but he is already on his feet. He looks around in a daze, his face smattered with blood. He holds his forehead and yells loudly, frightening those around him “FRANCIS!!!” he then walks through the curtain as his music plays.

June 24, 2002

Mak Francis stands in the center of the ring microphone in hand as SJL Crimson returns from the commercial break. The camera pans over the audience while Down with the Sickness starts to dissipate in the background. SJL fanatics waves signs like; “Clan v sWo = ratings”, “Me thinks Ced is underrated”, “Smarks World Order 4 life”, “Tod deKindes in German is Tod duh-Kin-dess”, “Suicide King = best mod ever” and finally “I tried but nobody can suck up like T-N-T”.

The camera comes back from the crowd and focuses in on our commentating quartet as Tyler Kinkel has already joined the booth next to the Suicide King. Kinkel brandishes a huge smile on his face as his Franchise bring the mic to his lips.

Francis: ”Hey Edwin how’s my favorite commissioner. You’ve been holding the sWo down and you’ve been holding me down for too long. So I’ve just emancipated myself from your authority and laid waste to my so-called challenger. Well sports fans, I don’t think everybody’s favorite crowd pleaser Thor-“

At the sound of the Norse Gods name the crowd erupts into cheers. Francis is visibly upset but waits the fans out and paces about the ring. He finally completes his cool down walk by leaning on the ropes facing the entrance way for support.

Francis: “Cheer all you want…I put his seven foot ass down in the back! Just another one of the JL commissioners, oh so worthy challengers down the drain, courtesy of “The Franchise”!”

Edwin: “Mak is really skating on thin ice…”

The crowd starts many chants but the most audible is “Franchise sucks”. Mak points to a couple of fans, railing off some insults without the mic that are way too graphic for the younger viewers.

Francis: “It’s you fans cheering and chanting that gave Edwin over there the chance to try and take my title away! And it’s your cries of happiness that gave C.I.A and deKindes their Euro title shots. Just because of some loopy madcap antics and high school teeny boppers popping like Bubble Yum gum.”

A torrent of boos rain down while Francis paces about the ring again. Finally he comes to a stop, back in his original spot on the ropes.

Kinkel: “You tell them Franchise. Tell the little targets what they are.”

Francis: “Well at any rate, I’ll give the big bastard of a god something…At least he isn’t Canadian, eh!”

The fans boo with a vengeance while Francis laughs.

Francis: “BWHAHAHAHA! Now start the count Kivell before I punk you like I did Thor!”

Matthew Kivell reluctantly agrees with Francis and proceeds to lift his right hand in the air index finger point out.

^^ONE^^

Kinkel: “One more victory for the sWo and the Franchise.

^^TWO^^

Axis: “I know something you don’t know jackass…”

King: “God I hate this, why can’t we just tell him…”

Edwin: “Do it and you’ll have to suffer the consequences…”

^^THREE^^

The lights go black…

Kinkel: “What in the hell?”

A blue spotlight shines on the entrance…

Axis & Edwin: “You mean we forgot to tell you…”

The opening chords of KISS, God of Thunder blast on the speakers…

Francis stands incredulous in the ring as Tyler Kinkel stands at the booth and mirrors his reaction. But the crowd is the exact opposite.

CRACKDOOM!

Axis: “GOOD GOD ALMIGHTY, LITERALLY AND FIGURATIVELY…IT’S THOR! HE’S TAKEN THE BEST “THE FRANCHISE” HAD TO OFFER AND IS STILL ON HIS WAY TOO THE RING!”

King: “Way to oversell it for the viewers J.R.”

Kinkel turns to King in a questioning manor as Francis looks like he nearly shit in his pants.

Kinkel: “Why didn’t you let us know?”

King: “Edwin wanted to see your faces and he threatened the most painful punishment possible.”

Edwin: “Geez, it was only another tag match with Z.”

Kinkel: “That Jersey reject. I understand now Kingfish and respect your decision.”

The entrance ramp fills with smoke and the man that’s known only as Thor, steps through the curtain making his way through the smoke from the lightening explosion. He walks down the ramp with a mean streak, looking all business; his blood-spattered face is like a mask of crimson. Thor has a mic in his hands and brings it to his lips to address the Smarks Junior League faithful.

Thor: “Francis! Thou shalt fear the God of Thunder! Thy action of malice did’st injury this mortal form but all transgressions doth have consequence. After this conquest hast rendered thou mortal flesh numb. When thy’n soul comes for redemption and entrance into Valhalla…you shall be turned away. So say the God of Thunder. So says Thor!”

Kinkel: “What in the hell did that comic book reject just say?"

Funyon: This match is scheduled for one fall and is a return bout 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 Norse God of Thunder…Thorrrrrrr!

Edwin: “Basically that Mak is screwed and I probably wouldn’t call the God of Thunder a “comic book reject”.”

King: “Bah, he eats lighting and craps thunder. Who’d want to do that?”

Thor climbs onto the ring apron and steps over the top rope. Francis darts behind Kivell and grabs onto the back of his shirt, trying to use him as a human shield. Thor points in the direction of the two men as Kivell elbows Francis in the gut and runs away asking for the bell.

DING! DING! DING!

Thor lumbers forward to attack Mak Francis but Francis stays in the corner and ducks his head and torso in between the top and middle ropes. Thor just looks on as Kivell steps between the two combatants forcing Thor back into the center of the ring. Francis finally releases himself for the ropes and cautiously moves out to grapple with Thor.

Axis: “Why did duck under the ropes like that Kinkel?”

Kinkel: “Mak’s just…uh…using strategy to bide his time and…uh…catch Thor of guard.”

Edwin: “Of all the foolhardy comments you’ve ever uttered that was by far the foolhardiest of all that is foolhardy.”

Francis and Thor come together in a collar and elbow tie. The two men fight for position but Thor easily over takes the Franchise and shoves him back into the corner. Kivell comes in to ask for a clean break but as they separate Francis takes an open hand swipe at the God of Thunder. Thor catches the hand in mid attack but Francis ducks his torso in the ropes again hollering at Kivell for a break.

King: “Mak is using his head here by baiting Thor into a mistake so that he can capitalize.”

Edwin: “So that’s what Mak calls strategy, I thought it was called being a coward.”

Axis: “Francis is still shaking his head like one of those bobble head dolls.”

Kinkel: “That’s the best idea your puny Aussie mind has every thought of, a Mak Francis bobble head doll. Get the production monkeys on it.”

Francis unties himself from the ropes and moves back towards the center of the ring. He and Thor collide in another collar and elbow tie up, which Thor thoroughly dominates. The big man tosses Francis around like a rag doll in an Irish Whip. Francis rebounds off the ropes and under a right hand strike attempt from Thor. Upon Francis’s return back he ducks under a clothesline and skids to a stop and dropkicks Thor’s knee causing him to fall on his back, head face the neutral turnbuckle.

Kinkel: “There’s the Franchise we all know and love. Well the people that aren’t trying to hold the sWo down…”

Axis: “Francis chipping away at the big monster Thor with a dropkick to the knee. Is it just a smart move or the act of a desperate spineless coward?”

But Francis isn’t done yet as Thor sits up the Franchise runs at him and dives over top in a front flip grabbing Thor’s neck and snapping it down. The Franchise backs into the corner and again awaits Thor rising to the sitting position. When Thor does Francis grabs his neck this time flipping forwards. The Epitome of Execution end this offensive strike with a devastating super kick to the forehead knocking Thor on his back staring up at the lights. Francis goes for the first pin of the match as Kivell moves into position…

One…

Two…

Thr-

Axis: “And a strong kick out by Thor at two and a half. You can’t tell that Francis just hit four straight offensive moves including one of his highest impact attacks, the perfect kick, by the force of his kick out. He literally threw a 225-pound man off him.”

Francis picks the God of Thunder up to his feet and hooks on a front face lock. Francis attempt to lift Thor once…twice…three times but the weight is just too much to elevate. Thor on the other hand has no problem lifting Francis into the air for a stalling vertical suplex. Thor holds Francis in the air for what seems like an eternity, letting the blood flow to his head, before sending him crashing down to the mat with authority.

Axis: “Up high, down hard!”

Edwin: “He’s been lifting. I sure that sooner or later he’ll be bench pressing about 225 pounds worth of grade A, Chris Wilson wannabe.”

King: “This ain’t SportsCenter so can the catchphrases unless they’re Suicide King level.”

Edwin: “And who came up with concussion junction?”

King: “I still maintain that is one of the best catchphrases in this business today.”

Thor picks up the smaller man and after a few strong overhead right hands and then Irish whips him into the turnbuckle. The God of Thunder rushes in with an avalanche body splash that squashes Francis in between him and the pads. Thor smiles as Francis stands propped up in the corner. He assaults the Franchise with a barrage of back elbows to the ear each one looking like they nearly concussed Francis. Finally Thor wraps a large mitt about Francis’s head and drags him to the left most turnbuckle.

Axis: “Francis is just getting beat down old school. And Thor has finally stopped bleeding from that gash over his forehead.”

Edwin: “Thor is about as old school as you can get. He’s straight out of Norse legend for Kinky’s sake.”

Kinkel: “Don’t take my name in vain MacPhisto!”

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

King: “Bah, Please Mak is just setting him up!”

MacPhisto: “For what? A SJL Television title reign!”

Edwin, Suicide King and Axis all stare at each other as Kinkel continues cheering Francis while being pelted by…Mentos? Damn SJL fans are strange…

MacPhisto, Axis & King: “Whoa, Déjà vu…“

Thor bangs the Franchise’s head against the top turnbuckle. The crowd, really getting into the match for the first time counts along.

“One… Two… Three!”

Thor switches to the middle turnbuckle and continues plowing Francis’s face into the corner.

“Four… Five… Six!”

Thor drags a punch drunk Francis down to the bottom buckle and continues the assault to the crowds’ enjoyment.

“Seven… Eight… Nine!”

And as the finale Thor yanks Francis to his feet only to head BUTT him back to the mat with a loud TEN echoing from the crowd. Thor falls on top of the Franchise hooking the near leg as Matthew Kivell slides into position…

One…

Two…

Axis: “And a kick out by the Franchise. This crowd really getting behind the God of Thunder and he is giving it back to them ten fold.”

Kinkel: “He’s just another talent less loser that gets the crowd to cheer. I guess Edwin can see himself in them and that’s why he says they are contenders.”

King: “I’d call him a crowd whore. He’s selling himself more than Misty Peaks at my favorite gentleman’s club.”

MacPhisto: “…”

Thor picks Francis up to a vertical base but Francis score a quick kick to the gut stunning the Thunder God. As Thor doubles over in pain Francis hooks on a front face lock and dives down…

Axis: “Francis tried to hit a DDT but Thor just lifts him into the air with the front face lock still clenched, as a counter!

Thor paces to the ropes slowly but surely keeping the wiggling Francis in place as he…

Axis: Oh My God! Thor walks towards the ropes while holding Francis into the air and then he just dropped him to the outside like a sack of potatoes! What a feat of strength!”

Francis’s back hits the mat hard as he rolls into the safety railing from the force that Thor dropped him with. The big man straddles the top rope and stands on the apron waiting for Francis to get up. Francis rises to his knees only to have Thor fly off the apron with a double axe handle directly to the shoulder blades. Francis hits the barely protected floor face first after the blow.

King: “Alright this is where all the fun ends and the pain begins.”

Thor grabs Francis by the scruff of his neck as Kivell starts the count out. Thor Irish whip Francis into the steel steps but the Franchise reverses causing him to hit the steps shoulder first. The top step has no give and even the seven-foot monster must submit to it.

Kinkel: “Pain is a dish best served with a side of steel.”

Axis: “Can it get any cornier than that line?”

Francis crawls back into the ring at five to stop the count while Thor is just regaining his equilibrium. Francis grabs a hold of referee Matthew Kivell and asks him to finish the count but the referee shrugs him off and starts over again. Thor gets to the ring apron and attempts to climb in by stepping over the top rope but Francis grabs the rope and by shaking it up and down he gets the desired reaction. Thor’s normally stoic face is covered in now caked blood and shows just how much pain he is in.

Axis: “That’s got to even hurt a god.”

MacPhisto: “…”

King: “You’ve been quite lately. To busy thinking of ways to hold people down.”

MacPhisto: “I’m not really like that am I…”

King: “Of course you are.”

Axis: “Shut up King. Edwin’s just doing what’s best for their careers.”

Edwin looks at the Suicide King in anger but does not respond anymore as Francis ducks under a vicious lariat attempt that would have decapitated him, but then he counters with a neck breaker hanging Thor thick neck over his shoulder but Thor pops right back up to his feet. Francis still turned around points to his head like he has outsmarted Thor. And for that he receives a stiff chop across the chest.

--SMACK—

“WHOOOOO!”

And another devastating chop occurs…

--SMACK—

“WHOOOOOOO!”

But Francis recovers and attacks with a knife-edge chop of his own. The sound is the same but the response is very different.

--SMACK—

“BOOOOOOOOOOO!”

Francis yells a curse at the crowd and drops down hitting a low blow to God’s family jewels. Kivell doesn’t see the low blow, as his attention is on the hot female in the third row. Francis jumps behind and grips Thor in a back waist lock prepping him for a German suplex.

Axis: Francis was able to pull one of these out of his hat last match. Can he do it again?

Edwin: I don’t know he is a superb athlete.

Francis lifts the almost 350 pound man over his shoulder in a German suplex that looks more like a back drop. The ring shakes from the impact but Francis pulls Thor up to his feet again and…

Axis: “Standing switch by Thor…”

Thor lifts the 225 pound man with ease as he drops him to the canvas with a textbook German suplex. The bug man isn’t done yet as he rolls into another suplex dropping Francis on the back of his neck.

Edwin: “But Thor is just that much better. I’ve never even seen him use the German suplex before and he is executing it to perfection.”

Thor continues the assault by landing another rolling German suplex and another German suplex?! That’s four rolling German’s in a row.

Kinkel: “Do something Mak. Cash in on some weakness.”

MacPhisto: “What did I tell you about puns in the commentary booth? Your not allowed to rightyo daddiyo.”

Thor finally holds the pin on the fourth one and Kivell hits the mat to make the count. The crowd booming along with him…

ONE…

TWO…

THREE…

Axis: “YES!”

Kinkel: “NO! Mak got his shoulder up. Look at Kivell waving it off.”

Thor is a little surprised by this turn of events but his face stay stoic. He picks up the Franchise and whips him into the ropes. Francis comes back and ducks under a back elbow but he cannot duck the big boot to the face from Thor as it nearly beheads him. Thor gingerly bounces of the ropes and talks three giant steps before dropping the big leg across Francis’s throat.

Axis: BIG LEG DROP! IT’S ALL OVER!!!

Thor goes for the cover and referee Matthew Kivell is happy to do the counting…

ONE

TWO

THRE-

Axis: Francis just got the shoulder up…

King: Stop shilling the leg drop like this kid is Hogan. What’s next he gonna do that thing with the ear?

MacPhisto: “You mean this?”

Edwin MacPhisto stands up and points to the crowd behind them. They go nuts as he waves his hand three times and cups his ear, like Hogan. He points to another section of the crowd do the ritual again and receiving the high quality cheap pop like only the crown Prince of Flash and Panache can.

MacPhisto: “Who’s your Mac Daddy? I’m your Mac Daddy, boyiiie!

Thor picks Francis up to his and Irish whips him into the ropes. Francis comes back and gets hit with a stiff clothesline. Thor lifts him up again but this time he whips him into the corner. Thor charges in and delivers an avalanche corner splash…but the Franchise side steps and waiting in the center of the ring as Thor stumbles out.

Axis: “Francis again looking for that perfect kick and this late in the match that might win it.”

Francis lines up the kick and executes in to nothing but thin air as Thor side stepped his super kick. Francis does not even get the chance to turn sideways and protect himself as Thor hits his on super kick to the side of Francis’s skulls.

One…

Two…

Three…

Axis: “No he kick out if you can even call that a kick out. Francis barely and I mean barely got Thor off him enough to get his shoulders up.”

Thor stands up and walks out to climb the top rope. Francis is a little groggy but he still is awake enough to see Thor flying off the top rope with a double axe handle. Francis hits him in the gut and latches on to his right arm dragging him down in a Japanese arm bar. Francis secures Thor’s arm and then hooks the leg in a half Boston crab.

King: “What time is it? Tequila time!”

MacPhisto: “Again with that line. Why do we keep recycling lines?”

King: “Because they are funny!”

Axis: “We really need some new lines…”

Francis can be heard screaming, telling Thor to tap out but the big man won’t give up.

ARRGGGHHHH

Thor still have the size advantage is able to reach the ropes by over powering Francis. Kivell reaches his five count but get swatted away by a straining Francis. After signaling Kinkel, he takes a deep breath finally breaks the hold allowing Kivell to think he forcible removing his grip on Thor’s leg. While Kivell attends to Francis Kinkel rushes over and…

WHAAAP!

King: “What a clipboard shot by Kinkel.”

Edwin: “That dirty low down roach.”

Axis: “My sentiments exactly, Edwin.”

Francis drags Thor

Francis rushes back and lands an elbow to the stomach of Thor keeping him down. After a lightening quick stomp to the chest Francis grabs both of his legs trying to turn him onto his stomach.

Kinkel: “Mak’s gonna grind this guy into the mat.”

But just as Kinkel says this Francis get clocked in the face with an overhand right by Thor from his back. Thor hits two more attacks just like the first and it allows him to get up. Francis rebounds off the ropes gaining a full head of steam and runs right into a choking sit out powerbomb. Thor yells to the heavens to deny Francis admittance and finishes the move. Kivell drops to the mat and starts the count…

One…

Two…

Thre-

Axis: “And a kick out by “the Franchise” Mak Francis. Thor showing great power and you can tell that he doesn’t see Mak Francis as a just and noble competitor.”

Edwin: “This is a great match. I booked it because I thought it be fair to both men that competed in it.”

King: “And nobody doubts that except for myself, Wilson, Sacred, Stryke and the rest of the WF excluding most of the Midnight Carnival and the sWo here in our own little JL.”

Axis: “Where’s Kinkel going?”

Tyler Kinkel rises up from his comfy seat at the announce table and punks Funyon out to pick up the SJL TV Title. Kinkel slides into the ring and dumps the belt on the ground for Francis who is still on his back. Kivell can’t get Kinkel out of the ring but Thor nails him with a big right hand sending him through the ropes and to the outside.

MacPhisto: “He slipped Mak the TV title.”

King: “Always cheat and you always win. A new mantra courtesy of-“

Axis: “I don’t think Thor knows Francis has the belt. This is vile and I think I’m going to throw up.”

King: “Don’t you ever interrupt me when I’m shilling myself!”

Thor turns around as Francis gets up with his back to the Norse God. Francis swings the belt and hits nothing but air as Thor had ducked down to pick up Francis for a Gorilla press. Francis drops the Television Title in the middle of the ring as Thor bench press him…once…twice…no three times and drops him on his stomach.

Axis: “Thor countered a belt shot into a Gorilla press slam. This guy has limitless power.”

Edwin: “No duh, he is a freaking GOD! I think that with his size and speed he can rule any division.”

King: “Please he won’t ever make it past Mak! And you can’t hold down The Franchise bucks for long. He’ll always find a way to rise above the rest, by hook or by crook and that’s what a true champion does!”

Thor lifts a weary Francis up to his vertical base and places him in a standing head scissors.

King: “Tyler do something…”

MacPhisto: “If you attempt to go in that ring I’ll stop you myself Kinkel.”

Kinkel looks at Edwin MacPhisto and then Thor as he signals to the crowd informing them that Ragnarok, a devastating jumping piledriver is on the way. The crowd screams in anticipation as Thor attempt to pull Francis perpendicular to the mat but Francis latches onto the back of Thor’s ankles as a last ditch effort to stop the move.

Axis: “Francis grabbing the back of Thor’s ankles.”

MacPhisto: “He seems pretty use to grabbing ankles…has he ever been in jail?”

King: “I don’t even want to go there!”

Thor tries once…twice…and…

Axis: ”Francis has counter into a double leg takedown. It looks like he is trying to turn Thor over for a high angle Boston crab.”

The blood from his reopened cut seeps down his face and puddles on the canvas while he drags Francis over towards the ropes. Kivell continues to ask the mountain of a man if he will submit but Thor yells no in response. The God of Thunder bridges up on his hands forcing Francis to move into a regular Boston crab as he gets pulled towards the ropes. Thor finally reaches the ropes but Francis drags him back to the center of the ring reapplying the hold as a high angle crab.

King: “That was Thor’s last shot right there. The only thing he can do now is tap out to stop the searing pain. It’s academic folks.”

But Thor has other plans as he bridges on his hands and uses his tree trunk like legs to flip Francis and break the hold. Kinkel stand amazed on the outside while Francis just can’t believe it. Francis sits stunned in the corner after being thrown half way across the ring by the legs of Thor.

Thor rises to his feet as Francis charges in for the kill. Thor goes for the big boot to the face…only for Francis to slide underneath. Francis spring up to his feet and kicks the Norse God in the gut grabs the front face lock and drives him down on the mat and onto the TV television title. Thor’s previous cut explodes blood as Francis shifts the title so that Kivell can’t see it…

One…

Two…

Three!

DING! DING! DING!

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

Francis quickly grabs his title and rolls to the outside so that referee Matthew Kivell cannot see the fresh blood on it. Tyler Kinkel walks beside him as the two men stalk up the ramp Francis hiding his belt from plain sight. Thor rolls over in the ring holding his head as he gets to his feet boring holes into the Franchise’s back.

Axis: ““The Franchise” Mak Francis picks up another win and all I have to say is can this kid win without cheating.”

MacPhisto: “Well Mak has a chip on his shoulder but sooner or later he’ll understand that I’m pushing him to make him a better wrestler.”

King: “Or you could have been holding him and this entire league down just like Wilson said.”

MacPhisto: “I’ll take care of Wilson’s summer in the city and then he’ll understand that praying on the minds of my Jlers is not advised. Now go to a commercial.”

King: “Wait don’t go to a commercial yet I haven’t been able to shill my world title reign yet. I’m the greatest champion of all time. I float like a butterfly and string like a bee.“

Axis & MacPhisto: “Rumble young man rumble.”

Suicide King showboats for the crowd like Edwin did earlier and then sit back down.

King: “Okay now we can go to break.”

[Commercial break]

June 24, 2002

The cameras cut in, focused on the announce desk, two of the men there fighting, as is their wont. “…And I still say he was far better in his role as Magneto. A poignant delivery of a man who would do anything to achieve the fair place of the superior!” A snappy British voice cuts in, replying with what is clearly a well thought out, frantically developed argument. “Gandalf would kick the crap out of Magneto just like I could kick the crap out of you, queenie.”

King is just about to reply again, when he notices Axis poking him, frantically whispering. “Guys, we’re back on.” Axis’s voice rises, jovially greeting the fans at home. “Hello all you fans at home, everywhere around the world. Welcome back to another exciting addition of SJL crimson! We’ve already seen some fantastic action tonight, like our last matchup between the SJL job….. er, television champion Mak Francis, of the sWo, and the monstrous Thor, member of the gOd faction!” Giggling to himself at his joke, Axis fails to notice Edwin and King both staring in incredulity. King shakes out of it, and turns to the camera. “Some people should be shot to save the rest of the world from their stupidity, I swear. But that WAS what we just saw, and we’ve got some great matches coming up, like….. geez.” Looking down at his sheet, King sighs. “I guess the fans are in for a lovefest on the card tonight, thanks to the booking of Mac Shabby. Outside of Insane Luchadore, did you book one person in the upper card that these beer filled simians we call an audience won’t cheer like crazy for? XF9, XF9, XF9….” King shudders visibly as Edwin smiles for the camera.

“That’s right, you overrated victim of a stupid stick beating. We’ve got some surprising FACES on our card tonight.” Snickering for just a moment, Edwin continues. “Including our next great matchup, two of the SJL’s most underrated talents, as far as I’m concerned, Ced Ordonez and CIA, facing off one on one.”

As King makes gagging motions, Axis continues right where Edwin left off. “The question in this one, folks, has got to be the condition of CIA, who has in the past two shows both been powerbombed to the floor, and been in a brutal no DQ match against two of the more sadistic individuals in our league, Frost and TNT. But enough from us, let’s get this matchup underway!”

The lights in the arena dim, and a red glow falls over the arena. It seems to hang a bit longer than usual, as the cameras sweep the crowd, catching shots of many fans wearing Canadian maple leaf t-shirts, or hefting signs proclaiming CIA’s greatness. The view spins around to the SmarkTron, just as it flickers to life, a fluttering Canadian flag displayed proudly. The national anthem begins, building slowly through the first verse, and ending swiftly as the stage explodes with pyro and the lights shoot to full luminescence. The fans are on their feet to greet the man who comes through the curtain, rushing out with his head down, and doing a spin at the top of the ramp before raising his microphone high, tossing his head back, and addressing all his fans. “Heeellllloooooo, FLORIDA!”

The cheap pop reverberates through the arena as the masked Canadian makes his way down the ramp, talking into the mic the whole way down. “Well, well. I guess I’m a pretty happy guy tonight. And I know, you folks out there are all saying…. But didn’t you lose your chance at the European title? Didn’t you get the hell beaten out of you by those two brutal monsters?” The fans boo both of these things, but CIA raises his hand for silence. “Oh no, it’s true. But it’s also true that I fought hard, and I’m here tonight, but where are they? Both gone! That’s right, cause they’re afraid of what I could do to them!” The fans cheer as CIA stops before the ring and tremendously overacts a few scary growls and muscle flexes.

Rolling into the ring, the cold warrior walks up to Funyon, TSKing and shaking his head as he observes the announce man’s fashion taste. “Well, enough boosting my ego…. Unless you guys want to cheer for me a little more.” The fans respond eagerly, vocal accolades ringing out for the patriotic powerhouse. “Ah, that’s why I love my job. But it is time to move on. Cause tonight I face a good man. A brave man. A fun loving man. A man who once came out here dressed in the SILLIEST outfit I’ve ever seen. I look forward to it, and I hope he’s a forgiving man, cause I’m about to take a bit of a liberty. Ladies and gentlemen, get out of your seats for the one, the only….. CEEEEEDDDD OOORRRDDDOOONNNNEEEZZZZ!!!!!”

The arena lights dim slightly and "B4U ~glorious style~" pumps up the crowd. The lights around the entranceway flash in rhythm to the bass, and the Teco Center crowd chants "Ced" in unison. The emerging Ced pulls the curtains back, and the fans raise their voices in a loud cheer once more. He surveys the crowd and slaps the hands of fans while making his way down the ramp. When he gets about midway to the ring he stops and poses as black, blue and silver streamers are thrown from the crowd, some chanting his name repeatedly, others chanting ‘XF9’. As the streamers cease, Ordonez dashes and slides into the ring, posing once more for the crowd before warming up for the match.

Anthony Michael Hall steps forth into the center of the ring as both men approach each other, bell signaling the match is underway. Both combatants observe each other for a moment, before thrusting their bodies forward and locking up. They jockey for position for a few seconds, neither man gaining an advantage. Circling a bit, the two grapplers size each other up, and go for the lockup once more. Using his size advantage, CIA forces Ordonez down slightly, quickly stepping around the XF9 member and locking on a rear chinlock. Wasting no time, Ced reaches back and hooks his arm around the Canadian’s throat, tossing him over and to the mat with a snapmare. CIA rolls to his feet, and looks into Ced’s eyes for a moment. Smiling, the canuck nods his head, motioning for Ced to step towards him.

Axis: These two men are feeling each other out in this stage of the competition, neither one wanting to show any weakness before these fans.

King: Ewww. That’s just disgusting, Axis. I didn’t know that those two were…. Like that.

Edwin: He said feeling each other OUT. You don’t HAVE to project your own tendencies onto others, King. Therapists say it’s unhealthy to keep yourself in denial that way.

In the ring, Ced approaches cautiously, snapping out with a sudden kick towards CIA’s midsection. The Canadian grabs hold of the incoming boot, and before he can realize he’s just completed the positioning of a move for his opponent, Ordonez is off the ground, flipping into the air and twisting his body, foot crashing into the side of the Canadian’s head in a hard Enzuiguri. Some of the fans cheer the blow, while others do not react so kindly. CIA rolls through with the force of his blow, coming up near the corner. Ced moves in quickly, trying to follow up on his dazed opponent. He comes in close, swinging out with a kick, but the Canadian steps out of the way and fires back, fists slamming into the XF9ers face. First a left crashes across his jaw, then a right, and then, CIA spins fully around, driving his elbow into Ced’s face and sending him stumbling back to mid ring. Again, the fans don’t seem to know how to react, some favoring the Canadian hero, others egging on Ced to fight back.

King: Well, this is amusing. All the normals in the audience can’t make up their tiny little minds. But I can. No cheating, no brutality, and noone for the people to hate? This sucks.

Edwin: But King, this also means that two of the so called ‘good guys’ beat each other up, instead of beating on the wrestlers you love so much, the sick and the twisted.

King: Hey, that’s right. *cheering into the ring* KICK HIS ASS!

Axis: Anyway, this is a truly interesting match so far, with both men showing he has a ready attack or counter at any moment. Ced Ordonez likes to assault an opponent’s legs, while CIA attacks the upper body, though I’m sure each man will do a great deal of damage to the other in this match.

The Canadian follows behind Ced, quickly grabbing the back of Ordonez’s head. Turning the XF9er back towards him, CIA tugs his opponent close, stepping in to drive his knee up into Ced’s stomach. Stepping back, CIA is surprised to find Ced has a grip on his leg, and, with one swift motion, the Canadian is flipped over to the mat, holding his leg in pain after being caught with a powerful Dragon Screw Legwhip. The fans cheer both men, and Ced begins laying in stiff kicks to the back of the Canuck’s thigh.

King: You know, you’re right, Edwin, when I look at the good side of this matchup, it’s kind of fun.

Edwin: Fun like polishing an SWF championship belt is, King? Or has it been so long you’ve forgotten how that feels?

King: I hate you, you know.

Edwin: (Very Happy) Yeah.

Dragging the masked wrestler back to his feet, Ced continues kicking at the legs of CIA. Breaking off that assault, Ordonez whips the Canadian across the ring. CIA rebounds off the ropes, flipping head over heels as Ced drops low, feet crashing into his leg in a low dropkick. Ced rises from the mat, and walks over to his downed foe. Kicking out, Ced continues to keep the pressure on, CIA’s right leg under heavy assault. Lifting the patriotic warrior to his feet, Ordonez fires off a few punches, only to have CIA fire right back. Both men trade punches for a few moments before the Canadian takes the advantage, forcing Ordonez to go on the defensive. Ced blocks a big left hand, but the canuck reacts quickly, stepping in close and locking one hand around Ced’s inner thigh, the other slipping around the XF9er’s shoulders. Twisting his opponents body, CIA lifts Ced for a bodyslam, holding him up in the air for a few seconds while the fans cheer or boo, depending on which wrestler they like best.

Edwin: Scoop bodyslam! CIA’s busting out the old school moves.

King: Old school? Geez, Edwin. You have the brain of a six year old. Does old school even MEAN anything to a simp like you?

In the ring, CIA slams Ced to the mat, giving one playful flex to the crowd, as if he were Hulk Hogan slamming Andre to the mat. It doesn’t last long, however, as CIA immediately resumes the attack, Dropping down to plant his knee in Ced’s chest and shoulder. The Canadian hits a few more kneedrops, reaching down to pull Ordonez to his feet. Taking hold of his wrist immediately, CIA shoves Ced away and tugs hard, trying to whip him fiercely across the ring towards the corner. Ced spins with the run however, sending CIA across instead. The Canuck bounds across the ring, Ced rushing in close behind after him. Ordonez lowers his head, looking to drive into the Canadian’s back with a spear. Just when it looks like CIA will be sandwiched between the turnbuckle pads and Ced’s onrushing shoulder, the Canadian leaps, hands taking hold of the top ring rope while Ced goes sailing by underneath, driving his shoulder in between the turnbuckles, impact with the steel post making a dull thud.

Axis: Oooh. Looks like CIA just escaped that one, and Ordonez drove his shoulder right into that unforgiving steel post!

King: I love it when some simpleton do-gooder injures himself. Do you think maybe he dislocated his shoulder?

Edwin: I wish you’d dislocate your mouth.

Dropping back to the ring behind the XF9er, CIA takes hold of the waist of Ced’s ring pants, tugging him back out of the corner and rolling backwards, bringing Ordonez’s shoulders to the mat. Coming up on top of the downed XF9er, CIA bridges back to lock the pin just as Anthony Michael Hall drops in to place to count the fall.

ONE!

.

TWO!

.

Ced Kicks out, fans cheering aloud.

Axis: A beautiful Backlund bridge by CIA out of the corner, taking advantage of Ced’s mistake. That was much more technical than we usually see this Canadian get, as he’s possibly adapting his style to battle the technically sound Ordonez.

King: Stupid. And good heel would’ve just tugged Ordonez back and driven his shoulder right back into that post.

Edwin: Perhaps he would like a victory unsullied by underhanded chicanery?

King: Like I said, stupid.

Coming to his feet, the Canadian begins to talk to Hall, checking the count. In doing so, he turns his back to Ced, though the cameras catch him glancing back for a moment as Ced begins to stir. The XF9er comes to his feet, arm hanging a bit at his side, and sees CIA with his back turned. Stepping forward, Ordonez heads for the seemingly unsuspecting agent. Just when Ced is about to step into striking distance, CIA kicks out and back, throwing a fierce thrust kick at Ordonez’s chin. Ced ducks to the side, and CIA has to struggle to regain his feet. Even as he does, Ced kicks out with a hard roundhouse, once more catching CIA in the right leg, and stumbling the Canadian. As the masked wrestler grips his leg in pain, Ced turns away, flipping backwards, foot flying out to slam into the side of CIA’s head, and drop him once again to the mat.

Edwin: You see, King? CIA tried to fake out Ced, something of a heel tactic, and what does he get? A bruised lower thigh and a kick to the head, in the form of Ced Ordonez’s…

Axis: Double strike! Double strike! Bah gawd, double strike!!

King: Woah. Chill out, Axis. What are you, possessed or something? And where did you get that black cowboy hat?

Axis: Sorry. I don’t know what came over me.

In the ring, Ced takes just a moment to grip his shoulder as he makes his way over to the downed representative of the red, white, and Labbatt blue. Reaching down, Ced takes hold of the face down Canadian’s right leg, tucking it up under his good arm and lifting most of the Canuck’s body up off the mat by wrenching back hard on the knee. CIA yells out in pain as the audience cheers out, some wanting him to quit, some wanting him to continue. Obviously in tremendous pain, CIA continues to cry out as Ced wrenches back again, and he shakes his head to Anthony Hall, insisting that he wants to go on. Reaching back, the Canadian tries to grab hold of one of Ced’s feet and trip him up, but Ordonez merely slides his foot back and wrenches up once more. CIA cries out, but manages to come up to one knee, lifting himself up with his hands as well, and reaching out for the ropes. His fingers come close, but don’t quite reach. Coming up further on his free leg, CIA suddenly lurches forward, wrapping his arms around the bottom rope, and Ced immediately breaks the count.

King: Oh! Wha! Just! Darn that Ced. Anyone knows you have UNTIL the five count before you’re DQed! And he lets go of that silly foreigner right away instead of inflicting more damage.

Edwin: Get used to it King. These two competitors have two things you could never dream of having. Morals and the love of the fans. Oh, and they have balls, too. That’s something you don’t have.

Axis: The right thing done by Ced, and from the way CIA was screaming, you have to think that his leg can’t have come out of that brutal hold unscathed.

CIA comes to his feet with the help of the ropes, looking over towards Ced, hobbling slightly on his damaged right leg. Clearly determined, the Canuck lunges at Ordonez, only to be brought back down to the mat with a drop toehold. Ordonez moves quickly yo position himself for another leg lock of some kind, but CIA moves just as quick, using his hands to tug himself to within grabbing distance of the ropes. Changing his tactic in mind motion, Ced grabs the injured leg of CIA and tugs it up into the air, shoving it back down to drive the knee crashing into the mat. As CIA cries out and grips his knee, Ced hops a short distance into the air, crashing down across the same knee with a jumping double knee drop, wrenching a fresh cry of pain from the Canadian.

CIA begins to use the ropes to pull himself to his feet, and Ordonez rushes away from the fallen body, heading across to the ring ropes on the other side of the squared circle. Making it to his feet, the masked wrestler hops back a few steps, keeping all pressure off his knee. Just as he sets down his foot and turns around, he is caught by the rushing Ced, using all the momentum from his bounce off the ring ropes to catch CIA with a powerful running high kick, sending him crashing to the mat with a sickening thud, CIA’s head once more only a few inches from the ring ropes. Not wasting a second, Ordonez does not attack the knee, but instead heads over to the corner, beginning to climb to the top rope.

Edwin: This is odd. Ced’s been focusing all his attention on that knee and leg of CIA, but now it looks like he’s going for a high flying maneuver. Most likely a flying elbow, if Ced is sticking to the moves he normally does. But CIA is so close to the ropes, there’s no way Ced can catch him across the chest without risking entanglement or injury from the ropes.

King: Well, looks like it’s time for me to step in and prove you a moron once more, you panda-freak. While it does look like a flying elbow from Ced, it’s clear he’s going to drive it right into that knee, crack it like a lobster shell at a fine dinner, and then bring CIA back to center ring and finish him off with the ‘Cross Lightning’

Axis: King may be just right, and the Cross Lightning, that brutal Nagata Lock Ced likes to polish off his opponents with, would certainly make most competitors tap, especially after a crashing shot from the top rope.

Mounting the turnbuckle, Ced faces the fans, cheering for him, many on their feet, abuzz with excitement. Without turning, Ced leaps back into the air, extending his elbow as camera flashes light up the arena, and the cheers rise, volume becoming almost unbearable. Flying downwards, Ced’s body tumbles, his elbow clearly aimed right at CIA’s wounded knee. In mere seconds, the flight is over, and the impact, Ced’s elbow driving down hard. Unfortunately, he does not hit his intended target, instead driving his right elbow into the mat when CIA grabs hold of the bottom rope and tugs himself underneath to the apron. While Ced is rolling around, CIA rolls back into the ring, lifting the XF9er to his feet as a replay of the missed elbowdrop plays on the big screen.

King: Painful mistake by Ced Ordonez, and I knew that he’d screw that up. What kind of moron would think that was the time to go to the top rope, is what I’d like to know.

Edwin: But when he went up, you said…

King: That he was a buffoon! Yes, I did.

Axis: Regardless of what was said, that move did cost Ced Ordonez, as he came crashing down on his right elbow, which CIA had been working on earlier in this matchup. Both men could almost be counted down a limb, the action of this contest so intensely focused from both competitors.

Taking hold of Ordonez’s arm, CIA tugs hard, wrenching at the damaged appendage, three quick pulls. Sending Ordonez to the ropes with a hard Irish whip, CIA runs the opposite ropes, both men rebounding and flying towards one another. Ced spins around just before the two men reach each other, left arm lashing out with a back elbow. CIA extends his right arm, going for a Bionic Elbow on Ced. Both moves hit, elbows meeting skulls, and both men go crashing to the canvas right in the center of the ring. With both men down, Anthony Michael Hall begins a count.

One!

.

Two!

.

Three!

.

Four!

.

Five!

.

Cia begins to stir in the center of the ring, rolling over a bit.

.

Six!

.

Lifting himself up onto his knees, CIA begins to move towards the corner.

.

Seven!

.

Ced stirs now, holding the back of his head in pain.

.

Eight!

.

Taking hold of the turnbuckle ropes, CIA begins to tug himself to his feet, even as Ced slides an arm underneath himself, beginning to lift himself from the mat.

.

Nine!

.

Hall breaks the count as CIA comes completely to his feet and Ced lifts up on his hands and knees, but slips back down as his bad arm seems to give way underneath him, spilling him back to the mat. CIA lifts himself up the turnbuckles, mostly using his arms and his good leg as he scales the corner, finally reaching the top rope and standing uncertainly.

Axis: Looks like CIA’s trying to close it out here, but can he get the height he needs for the Air Canada on that bad leg of his?

Edwin: These two are both tremendous fighters, and this contest is more exciting every second. Even more exciting than the goings on at http://hotpandaluv.org!

King: Two goody-goody punks who don’t even know the simple joys of cheating your way to a win. Wake me when it’s over.

On the top rope, CIA signals to the fans as an unsuspecting Ced is able to lift himself up on his hands and knees, putting most of the weight on his good arm. The cheers are explosive as CIA takes one look back over his should, and his weight shifts down as he begins the motions that will send him flying through the air. Lifting off, mostly with his good leg, the Canadian’s flight is a bit shaky, and lacks height, but that doesn’t stop the cameras from flashing, the fans from cheering, or the signs from waving. Spinning his body around with a little less grace than usual, CIA manages to get himself turned over and twisted to the side, finishing the motion in Midair just as Ordonez lifts his hands from the mat and begins to come up to his knees. Unfortunately, Ced is sent crashing back down as the canuck’s elbow catches him hard in the right shoulder, and the crashing weight slams him down, facefirst into the canvas once more.

Edwin: He hits it! The Air Canada, right on that injured shoulder! If he can roll Ced over, this will be it!

King: Well, I suppose Edwin was right about one thing. At least these two have been beating the tar out of each other.

In the ring, Ced seems to be barely moving, CIA clutching his leg, clearly made far worse by the leap. After a few seconds, finally, CIA turns to Ced, slowly rolling the XF9er onto his back. Getting Ordonez up and over, the Canuck drapes one arm across his opponent’s chest, and Anthony Michael Hall drops down to make the count.

ONE!

.

TWO!

.

THREE!

**DING DING DING**

The bell rings, and the speakers blare, kicky opening chord to ‘Secret Agent Man’ reverberating through the arena of fans, all on their feet, cheering on not the victory of one man, but the effort of both.

Edwin: A fantastic contest from both of these men, and I must say my booking genius is once more evident. Neither man will be walking out of here free of injuries, but they went in and gave it their all, just to entertain.

Axis: Truly, the SJL is lucky to have both these men. But then, the SJL is lucky to have just about all the marvelous talents on this roster.

King: And you two are lucky to have a job. Oh, hurrah, the good guy won. Well the good guy LOST, too, you nimrods. But no, you’re all happy, and cheery. I can’t BELIEVE I have to put up with this for two more matches. And another thing…. Oh, hold on. Aw, damnit. The Canadian has a Microphone.

Now on his feet, CIA does indeed have a microphone in hand, and he puts it up to his lips as he limps over to the corner for support. His music fades, and CIA addresses the fans. “Ladies and gentlemen, I am tremendously proud to have won my match tonight, and I hope you’ll forgive me for indulging myself by talking for a minute or two more, eh?” The fans cheer, not seeming to object in the least. “Thank you, all of you. I just wanted to say that this was a hard fought match, and my leg is screaming at me right now the Ced Ordonez should be the victor, not me, eh? I know we just beat the crap out of each other,

But right now I’m gonna go to the back, Ced, and I’m gonna crack open two fine, ice cold, Canadian beers. Cause any man that can fight like you deserves a cold one to refresh himself afterwards. Everybody in the audience, I want to hear you raise your voices to the sky for Ced Ordonez just one more time tonight, eh!?”

The fans do cheer, a boisterous, rising cheer, and Ced’s entrance music begins to play as he comes to his knees in the center of the ring, CIA already limping down the entry ramp towards the backstage area.

Edwin: A truly classy gesture by CIA, and not an untruthful sentiment, either.

Axis: I’d have to say that’s one of the noblest things we’ve seen in a while, wouldn’t you, gents?

King: Oh, I think I’m going to be sick. Fans, up next, Sydney Sky versus Z. Stay tuned.

With that, the cameras fade to a commercial for the new ‘Dress Like Edwin’ kids clothing line.

June 24, 2002

SINGLES MATCH

Sydney Sky vs. Z

Not yet either.

June 24, 2002

Axis: Welcome back to Crimson! We are live from the Teco Arena in Fort Myers, Florida and are within minutes of tonight’s Main Event!

Edwin: That’s right! We have the SJL World Champion Danny Williams in a nontitle three way match with Andrew Rickman and Tod Dekindes. If either challenger wins, than they will get a shot at the title in a three way match with Frost and Danny Williams.

King: Because god knows the fans haven’t seen enough three way matches.

Mudvayne's "Dig" violently plays, as the lights go out, and soon flicker back on but the arena is a bit dim. He stands tall on the top of the ramp, bending his back like a limbo pose but he makes a cross with his hands. Soon black sparks cascades down the top of the smarktron. Insane Luchador gets back to his normal stand and blood red pyro (still like sparks) explodes to the near right and left of IL. It soon turns to black with red mixed in here and there. It soon creates a shield of black sparks and Insane Luchador leaps out of it landing on his feet with a smirk. The pyro slows down and quits as Insane Luchador rolls into the ring. Already pouring sweat from the Florida heat, Rickman pulls off his soaking wet sweat shirt. Rickman goes to his corner, and keeps his head down with is bangs covering his face. Rickman looks like he’s completely out of his mind, and is quite intimidating for a skinny tall guy.

Axis: And you have to wonder what is running through the head of that man. This could very well be his last chance to prove that he has at a Main Event level for a long time. You have to wonder how frustrated he has to be, to watch so many others climb the ladder of success while he is left behind.

Edwin: I’am getting weird vibes from Rickman tonight. He seems crazier than usual or something.

King: Good! Rickman is a lot like Tyson. If he’s psycho and brings his A game, no one can beat him.

Entrance music; “I Am Hated” by Slipknot. Smoke starts to fill the entrance way as blinding strobe lights fill the arena. Tod paces out, clad in his trenchcoat and shades, and stops under the Smarktron to throw random looks at the crowd. He walks down the ramp but not with his usual confidence. Tod has a worried look on his face, and seems a little nervous. Tod steps, slides under the bottom rope, climbs a second turnbuckle and lets out a mighty roar to the fans. He removes his trench and shades and warms up in the ropes. Suddenly, Rickman attacks Tod with a flurry of punches! Kivell steps in, and manages to separate the two. Rickman goes back to his corner with a sadistic grin on his face. Tod seems a little unnerved by Rickman’s odd behavior and the Main Event atmosphere.

Axis: Tod seems to have a case of the jitters. Despite being around the same age, he doesn’t have the Main Event experience that Rickman and Williams have.

Edwin: The pressure is on, can Tod take the heat? Can he overcome the odds and pull off a major upset? Or will he let his rookie nerves get the best of him?

King: Rookie nerves! He’s scared plain and simple. He almost pissed his tights when Rickman attacked hm. Rickman can smell his fear!

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 with the World Title wrapped around on his face. He simply looks around, and nods his head to a respectful applause from the crowd. He slowly walks to the ring with a focused, no nonsense look on his face. He gets in the ring and just warms up.

Axis: There he is the SJL World Champion. Just like always he is cool and focused.

King: Maybe cause he’s been smoking a bit of the peace pipe before the match. Trust me, no man is naturally calm while stepping into the ring with The True Plague.

Edwin: Oh nobody is scared of that scarecrow. Besides Funyon is ready with the introductions.

Funyon: Ladies and Gentleman, it is now time for the Main Event of the evening! The following match is nontitle and is tripe threat elimination rules. Introducing first, weighing in at 195 pounds, hailing from Easton, Pennsylvania.......ANDREW RICKMAN! (The entire arena boos IL without mercy) And his opponent, weighing in at 227 pounds, hailing from Muenchen, Germany..........TOD DEKINDES!(the crowd goes absolutely crazy and gives a standing ovation) And their opponent, weighing in at 238 pounds, he hails from Louisville, Kentucky..............He is the SJL WORLD CHAMPION “DEATHWISH” DANNY WILLIAMSssssssssssssssssssssss(The crowd give a mixed reaction, but there is far more cheers than boos)

DING! DING! DING! Rickman charges out of his corner and tackles Williams. Rickman drools like a rabid dog, as he swings away at Williams. Tod seems out of place, and isn’t sure what to do. Rickman takes a break from hammering Williams face, and looks up at Tod. Rickman screams “What the Fuck are you looking at?”, and jumps up. Rickman catches Tod by surprise, and shoves him into a corner. Rickman starts swinging away at Tod, who instinctively shells up. Rickman doesn’t seem to get tired, and keeps pounding away at Tod’s arms. Out of nowhere Williams’ hooks Rickman’s arms from behind. Tod peeks out from behind his arms, and Williams yells “Go ahead, take a swing at him at the crazy sonuvabitch!”

Axis: It appears there is some type of unspoken alliance forming between Williams and Tod. This triple threat match may have turned into a two on one affair.

Edwin: The enemy of my enemy is my friend. Joxar the Mighty owns you!

King: What the hell? This isn’t fair!

Rickman growls and bites at Williams like a trapped animal, but can’t escape the powerful grip of the bulky champion. Tod steps in for a punch, but Rickman kicks him in the gut! Rickman jams the back of his head into Williams’ face, forcing him to release his grip. Rickman turns around, kicks Williams in the gut and delivers the Evenflow DDT! The confused crowd boos as Rickman covers Williams lifeless body for the pin. Tod watches on with a confused look on his face.

One.....

Two......

Thre

NO! Tod breaks up the count, with a kick to Rickman’s face.

King: What the hell? That stupid Nazi sonuvabitch! Doesn’t he realize this is elimination rules! Dammit, Rickman came within inches of getting his first pinfall victory over Danny Williams.

Axis: Perhaps he realized that if Rickman can dispose of the World Champion with ease, he may not have a good chance of beating him on his own.

Edwin: Big mistake! If Tod wants to make the big leap to the Main Event, he has to be confident and take a chance with Rickman. He should be more worried about the World Champion, than some washed up at 23 “garbage wrestler” like Rickman.

King: That washed up at 23 “garbage wrestler” came within inches of pinning the World Champion. Rickman is dangerous tonight, and I doubt that Tod or Williams can stop him.

Rickman jumps to his feet, and gives Tod a “How dare you get in the way of my vengeance!” look. Tod answers a right hand, which is blocked! Rickman counters with a nasty right hook to Tod’s jaw, and follows it with an even nastier left hook! Tod wobbles and than drops flat on the mat. Rickman mounts him, and starts choking Tod without mercy. Kivell’s warning to Rickman falls on deaf ears, as Rickman continues to choke the life out of the man that cost him his chance to pin the World Champion. Tod starts to turn blue, as Rickman cuts off the oxygen to his brain.

Out of nowhere, Williams kicks Rickman in the face! The crowd goes crazy as Williams comes to the rescue of Tod. But Rickman doesn’t flinch from the kick, and keeps his hands wrapped firmly around Tod’s throat. Williams kicks Rickman in the face again, and locks his arms around his neck for Sleeper! Rickman fights to keep the chock hold on Tod, but Williams falls back with his body weight, trapping Rickman in a Rear Naked Chokehold. Now free, Tod coughs and hacks trying to refill his lungs with precious oxygen. Williams has difficulty locking the body scissors on Rickman, and Rickman manages to roll them into the ropes. Kivell steps in and starts counting. Williams releases Rickman, and starts stomping him while he tires to get up.

No matter how much Williams stomps Rickman, he keeps trying to get up. After feeling his lungs back up with oxygen, Tod assists Williams in stomping Rickman to the ground. Finally Rickman has enough, and rolls out of the ring. The crowd gets their cameras ready as Tod and Williams both go to the opposite side of the ring and wait. Rickman staggers to his feet, and Tod charges across the ring. Tod jumps over the tope rope, and lands on Rickman with a Sommersault Plancha! The crowd explodes into a “De-Kin-Des!” chant.

King: Don’t these idiots even realize they are mispronouncing his name?

Edwin: It’s the thought that counts. You’ll never hear thousands of fans chanting your name.

King: Nor would I want them to, if they are going to insult me by mispronouncing my name.

Tod sucks up the cheers, and pulls Rickman up by his hair. Tod hold’s Rickman up, as Williams charges across the ring. Williams dives through the second and top rope, and nails Rickman with a Elbow Suicida! Rickman smashes into the guardrail, and flops face first to the floor. The crowd gives a standing ovation and starts chanting “S-J-L!”. Williams grabs Rickman’s arms, and Tod grabs his legs. The two lift Rickman’s corpse up, and toss him back into the ring. As soon as Rickman hits the mat, he takes off rolling and makes it out the other side of the ring. Tod slides back into the ring, while Williams go after Rickman. Williams pulls Rickman up by his tights, and rolls him back into the ring.

Tod pulls Rickman up by a back waistlock, and goes for the German Suplex! But Rickman won’t budge and starts throwing back elbows to Tod’s temple. Williams slides back into the ring, and throwing stiff elbows to Rickman’s jaw. After taking ten elbows, Rickman goes limp and Tod tosses him overhead for the release German Suplex! Rickman lands on his head and bounces to his feet and lets out a nightmarish battle cry. Williams immediately darts across the ring, and floors Rickman with a brutal Hooking Clothesline! Tod closely watches Williams flinch in pain after running across the ring to perform the move. Williams locks Rickman in a front facelock, and pulls him to his feet. Williams tosses Rickman’s dead arm over his shoulder, and hoists him up for the Brainbuster! Williams falls to the mat, and drops Rickman right on the top of head! The crowd “Ohs” at the sick move. Rickman is completely dead, and is showing zero signs of life. Williams sits up, shrugs his shoulders at Tod, and covers Rickman for the pin.

One....

Two....

Three!

NO! Kivell waves off the count, and points to Rickman’s boot on the bottom rope. Williams argues with Kivell, but Tod steps in and says “Allow me”. Tod locks both of Rickman’s arms in a Double Chickenwing and pulls him to his feet. Rickman’s legs are completely limp, and Tod is only thing holding him up. Tod snaps back for the Tiger Suplex! Rickman lands on his neck and shoulders, and Tod holds the bridge for the pin. The crowd screams along with Kivell.

One.....

Two.....

Three!

Kivell holds Tod’s hand in the air to make it official. Williams watches with a jealous smirk on his face.

Funyon: Eliminated at 10 minutes and 58 seconds by pinfall.....Andrew Rickman!

The crowd blows the roof off the building with applause. Rickman wakes up from his coma, and darts at Tod. Some outside officials and arena security rush the ring, and surround Rickman. Rickman takes a swing at one of them, but he gets tackled. Security drags Rickman to the locker room kicking and screaming. The crowd sings “Nah-Nah-Nah-Nah-Hey-Hey-Hey-Goodbye!”.

King: I can’t believe this happening. Rickman was robbed, dammit!

Edwin: Oh bitch, bitch, bitch.

Axis: Rickman once again falls prey to the Tiger Suplex! A move that Williams actually defeated him with, in a triple threat match with Posiyn. Now it is down to Williams and Tod. Two men who have quite the history.

Edwin: This should be good stuff, Axis!

King: Bah! This sucks.

Williams and Tod notice they are the only two left standing in the ring. Both men are sweating so profusely they look like they just stepped out of a swimming pool, and are about to drop dead from heat exhaustion. The two men step up toe to toe, and exchange hate filled stares. The crowd feels the arena with the sound of rapid foot stomping that resembles machine gun fire. Tod fakes a grapple, but instead gives Williams a hard kick to the ankle! Williams flinches in pain, but is able to fight back with two shin kicks! Tod shakes off the pain in his leg, and fires a hard chop! Sweat droplets fly off Williams chest as the chop connects with a loud smack “Wooooo!” Williams face wrinkles with rage, as he fires back with two thumping chops! “Wooooo!” “Wooooooo!” Tod steps back, rubbing his blood red chest.

Edwin: Wooooooo! You got to love chops!

Axis: Your not going to get anywhere trading chops with Williams. Tod needs to go back to the ankle.

King: Ah the hell with this, I could care less who wins now. Rickman was robbed, end of story.

Williams steps in for another chop, but Tod catches him with a right hook to the jaw! The punch knocks the spit out of Williams mouth, and almost jerks his head off. But Williams is able to shake it off, and pop Tod’s jaw with the two quick elbows. Tod stumbles into the ropes, and Williams shoots him off with an Irishwhip. Tod runs into the ropes, and charges right into a hard back elbow from Williams! The impact creates a loud crack, that draws a “Oh” from the crowd. Tod drops to the mat, and Williams pulls him back up with a front facelock. Williams wraps Tod’s limp arm around his head, grabs a handful of tights, and hoists Tod in the air for the Brainbuster! But Tod escapes and falls behind Williams, reversing the Brainbuster into a Dragon Sleeper. Tod grabs a handful of Williams tights, and lets out a mighty roar. Tod lifts Williams in the air and falls back, slamming Williams body first into the mat with the Reverse Suplex!

Edwin: Wow! That was pretty. Tod has the sweetest move set.

Axis: What an amazing counter. Williams may have went for the Brainbuster to early, and Tod managed to counter with a Reverse Suplex. Tod has found success before in working Williams body, lets see if he sticks with it.

King: Damn its really hot in here, can I go home?

Holding his ribs and coughing, Williams crawls to a corner and pulls himself up. Tod stays on him, and starts pounding Williams’ stomach with stiff haymakers. The crowd “ohs” from the sick thumps of Williams ribs being hit with bare knuckles. After beating Williams until his hands hurt, Tod shoots Williams out of the corner with an Irishwhip. As soon as Williams hits the cross corner back first, Tod drills him with a Spear! Tod hits Williams with such an impact, his legs goes completely horizontal into air. Williams drops to knees and starts coughing like he is going to puke. Tod hooks both of Williams’s arms under his armpits, and pulls Williams to his feet. Tod bends his knees, and tosses Williams out of the corner with a Butterfly Belly to Belly Suplex! Williams lands in the center of the ring so hard, he shakes the ring.

Edwin: Hell yes, that move is even sweeter than the Suplex thingy he did earlier. Tod rocks!

Axis: It seems like Tod is going to stick with working over Williams’ body. Brilliant strategy from the ex European Champion.

King: Oh wow, he’s working his body. Who cares? I’am surprised the fans haven’t all just got up and left. Rickman was the wrestler they all came to see, not these two boring jobbers.

Tod wipes his sweat soaked hair out of his face, and slowly walks to Williams. Williams slowly crawls to his hands and knees, only to get kicked in the ribs with a stiff soccar kick. Tod pulls Williams up with a front facelock, and slams to the mat with a Snap Suplex! Tod keeps his grip and pulls the Williams back up to his feet. Tod takes several deep breaths, and slams Williams back to the mat with a Front Suplex! Tod still keeps his grip, and once again pulls Williams to his feet. Tod looks dead tired, and Williams just looks dead. Tod gathers his strength, and uses all his power to hoist Williams up again. This time, Tod impales Williams on the top rope to complete the Sarah Sequence!

Axis: Tod successfully hits the Sarah Sequence. Very few people have managed to survive that suplex series, and come back to win the match.

Edwin: Pardon my french, but Tod is suplexing the shit out of Williams!

King: I don’t know who Sarah is, but I probably banged her years before she hooked up with Tod.

Tod jumps high in the air, and comes down the back of Williams’ neck with a Leg Drop! Williams flops off the top rope, and lands on the floor outside the ring. The champ slowly staggers back to his feet, but Tod nails him with a pescado as he gets up! The crowd starts a loud “De-Kind-Des!” chant. Tod pulls Williams to his feet, and rolls him into the ring. Tod climbs on the apron and waits patiently. Barely able to breathe, Williams stumbles to the mat while clutching his ribs with both hands. Within seconds, Tod jumps to the top rope and drives a Springboard Dropkick into Williams gut! Williams crumbles to the mat, and Tod hooks his legs for the pin.

One....

Two.....

NO! Williams raises his shoulder. The crowd is actually still chanting “De-Kin-Des!” over and over. Williams curls up on the mat, like a baby in the womb. Tod gets underneath Williams and raises him off the mat with a fireman carry. Tod circles in place, so everyone gets a good look at Williams on his shoulders. Tod lets out a straining roar, lifts Williams overhead with a Guerilla Press, and drops him into a Gutbuster! Tod quickly rolls Williams over for the pin.

One....

Two....

Three!

NO! Williams raises his shoulder at the last possible microsecond. Tod sits up on his knees, puts his hands on his waist, and lets out a disappointed sigh. Tod stands up over Williams, and starts giving him taunting nudges with his boot. Tod lets Williams stand up, only to floor him with a roundhouse kick to the ribs and another to the back of his head. Tod lets Williams up again, but only to send him back to the mat with just one roundhouse kick to the ribs. The “De-Kind-Des” chant finally dies down, but is replaced with a “Death-Wish” chant. Straining from the pain in his abs, Williams staggers back to his feet while grinding his teeth. Tod fires another roundhouse kick, but Williams blocks it and counters with an elbow to Tod’s jaw! Tod just shakes it off, and kicks Williams in the ribs anyway. Williams doesn’t go down, so Tod fires a straight right. But Williams catches it, and snaps Tod’s arm over his shoulder for the Armbreaker!

Axis: ARMBREAKER! In their previous matches, Williams worked over Tod’s arm like a mad man. In fact Williams managed to beat Tod on numerous occasions by working his arm. Can he repeat that success tonight?

Edwin: I’am sorry Axis, but I just can’t get excited for arm work after seeing Tod suplex Williams a hundred and one ways a few minutes ago.

King: I agree Edwin, let’s call it a night.

Tod falls to mat, holding his arm and screaming! The crowd gives a standing ovation, but dies down for the slower action. With a look of discomfort, Williams rubs his stomach, and does a few hamstring stretches. Williams pulls Tod up by his bad arm, and gives him another Armbreaker! Tod violently rolls around on the mat, holding his elbow and screaming in agony. Still in noticeable pain, Williams stalks Tod as he rolls around on the mat. Williams catches Tod by his bad arm, and drags him to the center of the ring. Tod bites his bottom lip to stop screaming, as Williams nearly yanks his arm out of the socket by dragging him. Williams signals its over, and tries to lock on the Cross Armbreaker. Tod locks his hands together with a death drip, and Williams can’t fall back to complete the move. Williams gets pissed, and just jerks Tod up by his arm.

Axis: My god! Williams can’t lock on the Cross Armbreaker! My God! Tod has his fingers locked to tightly!

Edwin: You know Axis, in many ways, we are very different people.

Williams gives Tod an arm wringer, but suddenly snaps his arm over his head and hoists him up for the Backdrop Driver! Williams falls back and drives Tod’s skull into the mat. The dead crowd comes back to life with a vengeance.

Axis: And Williams gets a cheap pop by dropping Williams on his head.

Edwin: Now that’s what I’am talking about. Just forget his arm and do more of that crazy stuff Williams!

Williams rolls Tod over on his back, and this time locks on the Cross Armbreaker without any trouble! Williams jerks on Tod’s arm with all his power, trying to force Tod to tap out. Williams starts screaming “Ask him?” Kivell asks Tod if he wants to quit, but Tod responds with a”Hell No!” Using what little power he has left in his legs, Tod starts scooting his way to the ropes. Tod stretches out his leg as far as it will go, but his toes just glance the bottom rope. Fighting the numbing pain in his arm, Tod manages to scoot a few inches further to the ropes. Tod stretches his leg out again, this time hooking his boot on the bottom rope. Kivell starts counting, and forces Williams to break the hold.

Axis: Tod made it to the ropes! He made it to the ropes! But how much damage has Williams done to Tod’s arm.

Edwin: Finally! Williams releases that boring submission hold.

King: God! How much longer can this go on.

Williams grabs Tod by his arm, and drags him back to the center of the ring. Williams goes for the Cross Armbreaker again! But this time Tod escapes Williams’ grasp, and drops a stiff knee on his face. Williams is out cold, and Tod pulls himself to his feet. Tod tries to rotate his arm, but has to stop from the pain. Tod shakes his arm to get some feeling back, before pulling Williams up by his tights. Tod locks on a back waistlock, but Williams starts firing back elbows to his temple. Tod releases the waistlock, and Williams spins around for the Rolling Elbow! Tod ducks, and catches Williams in another back waistlock! Tod quickly bends his knees, and tosses Williams with the release German Suplex! Williams lands sickly on his neck and shoulders, and flops over on his belly. The crowd starts the “De-Kind-Des” chant again, as Tod crawls to Williams and rolls him over for the pin.

One....

Two....

NO! Williams kicks out. Tod is still flinching in pain from his arm, but he manages to pull the drowsy Williams into a standing head scissors. Tod locks his arms around Williams waist, lifts him up, and drives his head into the mat with a nasty Jumping Piledriver! Williams flops on his back, and starts twitching. Tod grabs his arm, and flinches in pain after lifting Williams. Tod finally crawls on top of Williams, and the crowd counts along with Kivell.

One....

Two.....

Thre

NO! Williams raises his shoulder up. Tod locks his arms around Williams torso, and drags him to his feet. Tod ties Williams up in an Abdominal Stretch, drawing a huge pop from the crowd. Tod looks to grab hold of Williams’ right arm for the pumphandle, but Williams won’t give it up. In turn Tod starts driving his elbow into Williams’ ribs. Tod stops and screams at Williams “Give-Me-Your-Hand!” Fighting the pain in his ribs, Williams cries out “NO!” Tod drives some more elbows into Williams’ ribs, and asks him for his hand again. Unable to speak from the pain, Williams just shakes his head. A frustrated Tod releases the Abdominal Stretch in favor of a back waistlock. Williams darts for the ropes, and hugs them a long lost friend. Kivell steps in and forces Tod to release Williams. Williams lets out a sigh of relief and releases the ropes. Suddenly, Tod snaps on a Full Nelson and slams Williams to the mat with a Dragon Suplex out of nowhere! Tod holds the bridge for the pin.

One....

Two....

Thre

NO! Tod can’t hold the bridge. Tod stands up, and runs his fingers through his hair in frustration. Tod bends down, and hook Williams arms in a Double Chickenwing! Tod pulls Williams’ heavy carcass up for the Tiger Suplex! Williams comes back to life, and makes a run for the ropes. Tod manages to stop him, and drag him back to the center of the ring. Tod bends his knees, and strains to lift Williams up. Williams fights for his life to escape the hold, trying to wiggle and twist his way out of Tod’s grip. Tod lets out a powerful roar like a weight lifter, and lifts Williams off the mat. Tod falls back for the Tiger Suplex, but Williams lands right on top of him. A puzzled Kivell inspects to see who’s shoulders are actually down, and counts.

One.....

Two.....

Thre

NO! Tod releases Williams’ arms, out of the fear of not knowing who’s shoulders Kivell was actually counting down. Because he has to know, Tod asks Kivell “Who’s shoulders were down?” Kivell says “Williams shoulders were down.” Tod’s jaw drops, and he to his knees and starts pounding the mat in anger. Williams takes the opportunity to roll out of the ring, and try to regroup. The crowd is quiet for one of the first times during the match. Tod regains control, and stares down at Williams on the outside. Williams pops his neck a few times, and stares back up at Tod. Both men are dripping sweat, and look half dead. The quiet crowd comes back to life with a standing ovation.

Edwin: A mexican standoff! It’s any man’s match now! May the more entertaining man win!

Axis: Both these men have absorbed tremendous damage, and have been wrestling for close to a half an hour in this ungodly heat. Now it all comes down to this, who wants it more and is willing to sacrifice their body to win it all.

King: Blah, Blah, Blah. Both these guys are cowards who had to cheat to beat Rickman. You know why they cheated Rickman, because they were scared of him. Neither man can handle Rickman one on one.

Williams slides in the ring, and jumps to his feet. Tod draws back his right hand for a friendly greeting punch, but he flinches in pain. Williams smirks and jams two stiff elbows to Tod’s face. Tod is hurt, and goes back paddling away from the champ. Williams goes in for the kill, but Tod catches him with a swift kick to the ankle! Williams grabs his ankle and screams “You Motherfucker!” Tod fires some more ankle kicks, backing Williams up. Tod draws back extra far, and pushes his all his body weight into one final ankle kick! The blow connects with a sick crack, drawing a “Oh” from the crowd. Williams drops to one knee, but hobbles back up to his feet.

Axis: Tod goes to work on Williams bad ankle! A strategy I feel he should have stuck with from the beginning.

Edwin: Oh great, now Tod is going to start that boring submission wrestling crap. Just suplex him or something Tod.

King: Your such a dumbass Edwin. The sooner he breaks Williams’ ankle, the sooner we can go home.

Williams staggers to ropes, and waves for Tod to “bring it one” . Williams looks finished, and Tod confidently steps in for the kill. Suddenly, Williams kicks Tod in the gut with his bad leg, and drives Tod’s head into the mat with a sick DDT! Tod lands right on the top of his head, with his legs pointing straight into the air. Tod’s body falls forwards, but he bounces off the ropes, and falls flat on his belly. The crowd lets out a collective gasp, but aren’t as nearly stunned as they were on Crimson. Williams looks like he is about to bust into tears from the pain in his ankle. Williams sits up, adjusting his ankle brace and pulling on his foot, trying to find some position to relieve the pain. Tod remains completely motionless face down on the mat. Williams’ finally overcomes the pain in his ankle, and rolls Tod’s corpse over for the pin.

One....

Two....

Three!

NO! Kivell waves off the count, and points to Tod’s foot underneath the bottom rope. Williams shakes his head, and hooks the leg for a second pin attempt.

One.....

Two....

Thre

NO! Tod raises his shoulder up. Williams stands up, and stomps his boot into the mat a couple of times to make sure he has his feeling back. With a blank expression on his face, Tod blindly feels for the mat, and tries to get up. Tod makes it to his feet, but his knees give out and he drops flat on his BUTT. Williams grabs a hold of Tod’s tights, and helps him to his feet. Williams locks on a back waistlock, for the German Suplex! But Tod spins out of it, and gets behind Williams. Despite being out on his feet, Tod tries to trap Williams in the pumphandle position. Williams just hip tosses Tod off, and rips his head with a well timed Hooking Clothesline as he gets up! Williams grabs a handful of Tod’s hair, and tires to pull him up. Tod is too limp, and Williams gives up and just rolls him over for the pin.

One.....

Two......

NO! Tod kicks out, but with little force. Williams traps Tod in a standing head scissors, and locks his arms around his waist. The crowd knows what’s coming and goes completely apeshit. Williams tries to pull Tod up but his legs are spaghetti. After several attempts Williams manages to pull Tod to his feet and keep him there. Williams bends his knees, and uses all his power to lift Tod off the mat for the Deathbomb! Williams strains with every ounce of power he has left, but can’t seem to lift Tod all the way up. Williams looks down to see what’s wrong, and notices that Tod has a death grip on his(Williams’) kneepads. Williams sets Tod down, and drives a knee into his face. Tod falls flat on his back, like a chopped down tree.

Williams wipes some sweat off his forehead, and for second looks like he is about to pass out form dehydration. Williams gets a “fed up” and “pissed off” look on his face. Williams jerks Tod up by his hair, and starts ramming elbows in to his temple and jaw. Williams hits him with eight straight elbows to complete the Elbow Combo of Doom! Tod remains standing on his feet, wobbling in place with arms hanging lifelessly to his sides. Williams spins around and blasts Tod with the Rolling Elbow! Tod drops to the mat like a sack of potatoes, and Williams falls on him for the pin.

One....

Two.....

Three!

NO! Tod somehow raises his shoulder up at the last second. Every person in the building is on their feet and making noise. Nobody even notices Frost standing in the shadows of the entranceway to locker room, quietly watching the action with his arms crossed. With an excited crazed look on his face, Williams traps the drowsy Tod in a standing head scissors. Williams pulls Tod to his feet by his tights, and locks his arms around his waist. Williams bends his knees and takes several deep breaths. Williams lets out a primal scream and lifts Tod off the mat for the Deathbomb! Williams uses all the power of his small bulky frame, to violently slam Tod down to the mat. Tod’s upper body hits the mat, with a sick bone breaking thump. The back of Tod’s head smacks against the mat, knocking him out cold. The ring ropes shake violently from the aftermath, and despite the deafening noise of the crowd, everyone could still hear the impact of the unbelievably stiff powerbomb . Williams quickly grabs both of Tod’s limp legs, and flips over for the Double Leg Pick Up that bends Tod completely in half! The crowd screams along with Kivell at top of their lungs.

One.....

Two......

Three!

DING! DING! DING! Just when you thought the crowd couldn’t get any louder, they blow the remainder of the roof off with screams and cheers! Williams releases Tod and remains sitting on the mat. An exhausted and sweat soaked Kivell raises Williams’ weary arm to make the win official. Frost cracks a smile, and disappears back into the darkness of the locker room.

Funyon: The winner of the match at 38 minutes and 22 seconds......The SJL WORLD CHAMPION ”DEATHWISH” DANNY WILLIAMssssssssssss.

Edwin: Now that was one hell of a match! Some of Williams offense bored the hell out of me, but he came through in the end and proved why he is the SJL World Champion.

Axis: I agree, this was one heck of a match. All three men have nothing to be ashamed of, and proved themselves to be worthy main event players. Tod however made two crucial mistakes that may have cost him the victory. Both caused by his lack of confidence. He saved Williams, cause he didn’t feel he could beat Rickman on his own. And he released Williams from the Tiger Suplex, out of fear that his shoulders were on the mat.

Edwin: Yeah but confidence will come with time. Not a bad performance at all for his first big match.

King: O.K. great, can I go now!

Williams staggers to his feet, but immediately collapses back to the mat from exhaustion. A ring side official hands Williams a water bottle, and Williams chugs it all down immediately. Kivell checks out Tod and signals for the paramedics, who coming rushing to the ring immediately. They inspect Tod and try to wake him up. Williams chugs down a second bottle of water, and gets ready to leave but stops when he notices Tod hasn’t woke up yet. After some tense moments, Tod starts to show signs of life. The crowd applauds and Williams steps out of the ring to start his long march back to the locker room. The copyright comes up, and the screen fades to black.

June 24, 2002

Ok, I don't have everything yet. It will be edited in ASAP.

SINGLES MATCH

Fugue vs. "The Rising Sun" Y2K

WINNER: Fugue (Default)

RETURN MATCH!

Poisyn vs. Silent

WINNER: Silent

RETURN MATCH MARK TWO!

Mike Van Siclen vs. Venom

WINNER: Venom (Default)

TV TITLE MATCH

WINNER: "The Franchise" Mak Francis

SINGLES MATCH

C.I.A. vs. Ced Ordonez

WINNER: C.I.A. (Default)

SINGLES MATCH

Sydney Sky vs. Z

WINNER:

MAIN EVENT

NON-TITLE THREE-WAY ELIMINATION MATCH

"Deathwish" Danny Williams vs. Insane Luchador vs. Tod deKindes

WINNER: "Deathwish" Danny Williams

Sjl Crimson, June 23rd

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