SWF Snake Eyes

[Guest BA_Baracus]

[Two bright yellow spotlights cut through the darkness, scan the cheering audience then come together in the middle of the stage. Where the spotlights meet a series of huge pyros explode one after another.

 

After a few seconds the lights return revealing the Snake Eyes logo on the SWF-tron and the cameras scan an excited audience then zoom in on the announcer's table...]

 

Mark Stevens - It's time for SWF Snake Eyes!

 

Bobby Riley - Extravaganzorgasmic!

 

Stevens - Hey...I wanted to do the extravaganza line!

 

Riley - Too bad.

 

Stevens - Well, anyways....on with the show!

[Guest BA_Baracus]

TAG TEAM MATCH

Thoth & Frost vs. Mercury & Ced Ordonez

- Two veterans pairing up with two rookies. It’s good vs. evil tag style this Sunday!

 

4-WAY MATCH FOR THE #1 CONTENDERSHIP TO THE US TITLE

Danny Williams vs. Tod DeKindes vs. “TNT” Taylor Nicholas Thompson vs. Z

- Four of the best and brightest from the JL will square off for a shot at the SWF US title. There is quite a bit of history between these 4 men, so this should be an spirited contest…

Match Description – DQ and count-out rules are in effect. Once a man is eliminated via pinfall, submission or knockout they must leave ringside and can’t interfere in the match. The last surviving wrestler is the winner.

 

TRIPLE THREAT US TITLE MATCH

Chris Raynor © vs. Durandal vs. Jay Dawg

- After being cheated out of a US title shot by Jay Dawg, Chris Raynor returned and defeated then champion, Durandal to win the strap. This Sunday Durandal gets his rematch, but commissioner Stubby has also allowed his close ally, Jay Dawg to join in on the fun!

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

 

HARDCORE TITLE MATCH

Stryke © vs. Ash Ketchum

- Stryke took Ash Ketchum’s hardcore title away from him, and he wants it back!

Match Description – Regular DQ and count-out rules are not in effect. Submissions, pinfalls and knockouts count anywhere within the arena.

 

QUADRUPLE THREAT MATCH FOR THE ICTV TITLE

Sacred © vs. Fallout vs. Erek Taylor vs. Longdogger Pete

- Sacred and Fallout were involved in a heated feud last month and traded the ICTV title back and forth between them a couple times (most recently Sacred managed to defeat Fallout in 3/5 falls match to win the title). Erek Taylor (who has had recent run-ins with Fallout and Sacred) has not been on the best of terms with Longdogger Pete since they both returned about a week ago. This Sunday all 4 combine in what should be a barn burning, rocket busting, slobberknocking good match.

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

 

SWF HEAVYWEIGHT TITLE MATCH

Edwin MacPhisto © vs. Chris Wilson

- Wilson has had his sights set on the heavyweight title since returning to the SWF and has been trying to wear the current champion, Edwin MacPhisto, down with his patented mind-games all month. Will Wilson emerge a 2-time champ this Tuesday or will Edwin hold onto his gold?

[Guest BA_Baracus]

“Ace of Spades,” one of Motorhead’s greatest songs, plays over the PA in the Mellon Arena, as the fans hop around in their seats, tickled pink that they are in attendance at the extravaganza that is an SWF Pay-Per-View! Mark Stevens and Bobby Riley are wearing tuxedos and smiling profusely at ringside.

 

“Welcome fans... to SNAKE EYES!”

 

“We’re glad to have you with us,” adds Riley, “Because we have one hell of a card!”

 

“Indeed you are correct, my friend who ambiguously shows homosexual tendencies! Tonight is special because not one, not two, but six, count ‘em, six members of our Junior League are getting their first taste of major league competition tonight! And we’ve got hot action all night... all the singles belts in the federation are on the line, and especially our main event... Edwin MacPhisto defends against his agressor and harassor as of late, Chris Wilson!”

 

“...did you say homosexual tendencies?” Riley cocks his head to the side, looking at a faraway point, closing one eye, then the other. “Mmm... I don’t think so,” he eventually says in a nonchalant tone.

 

“Well... to each his own. Our opening match tonight sets the tone for the modern SWF. It’s new versus old, and new and old on the same team. Veterans Thoth and Mercury battle each other in tag team action, taking Frost and Ced Ordonez, respectively, as partners.”

 

“Frost is a former SJL world champion, and Ced is a skilled mat technician... but they have never teamed with Thoth or Mercury. Indeed, this is their SWF debut.”

 

“It’s good for them that they have skilled veterans to team with in their first sojourn into SWF territory... so let’s see how they do.”

 

“So... do we do a joke here?”

 

“I dunno. I think whoever’s writing this is a wee bit tired.”

 

“Yeah, probably. Hey, did you see Bo’s latest pormo, I mean promo? I liked it.”

 

“GOD NO, RILEY. I have children.”

 

The camera cuts away to the entrance, specially done for Snake Eyes. The motif of the entryway is snake eyes, of course. “B4U Glorious Style” by NAOKI starts to play, the pounding beats accompanied by synthesized brass.

 

“The following tag-team contest is scheduled for one fall! Introducing first, from Sacramento, California, weighing in at 210 pounds... making his SWF debut... Ced... ORDONNNEZ!” announces Funyon, dressed to the nines in dapper lavender. The arena flashes multi-colored lights as Ced comes out, running down the ramp as black and blue streams are thrown over him. He rolls into the ring, running back and forth across it, bouncing off the ring ropes. The modern-day Dance Dance Revolution anthem fades, replaced by “Spy Hunter” by Project 86. Mercury leaps out from behind the entryway, pumping his fist and pointing to a projection on the Smarktron, showing the logo of Regeneration X.

 

“His tag team partner, from Los Angeles, California, weighing in at 233 pounds... MERRRCURY!”

 

“You know what, Stevens? Ced used to be from the capital of California, but now Mercury is. Shaquille O’ Neal said so. Boy, do I love Shaq packs!”

 

“Cheese dip for your fries? Are you kidding? Icky-ick.”

 

Mercury rolls into the ring, more calm and restrained than his newbie partner. He turns toward the entryway, awaiting what is to come. “Cities on Flame with Rock ‘n Roll” plays, with no ighting effects, or pyro, standard features of a normal SWF intro.

 

“And, their opponents... first, from Reykjavik, Iceland, weighing in at 296 pounds... making his SWF debut... FRRROOOST!”

 

“This man is a bear!” exclaims Riley. “I mean... he’s huge... and he’s from Iceland... he’s a bear, Stevens!”

 

“Racist undercurrents aside, Frost is incredibly impressive. He’s got the ‘look’, and that alone can get you far in this business. With any luck, he could be the next Rane or HVille Thugg.”

 

All business, Frost steps through the ropes and stands menacingly at the opposite corner from Mercury and Ced. He crosses his arms over his chest, and awaits the final participant in this seemingly random tag team match. The lights turn deep blue as “Quarantined” by At The Drive-in starts to play, a low set of guitars building, slowly... slowly... a lone wail of a treble guitar... and the lights turn crimson red, as Thoth walks slowly down the ramp.

 

“And his partner... weighing in at 236 pounds... THOOOOOTH!”

 

Thoth makes his way to the ring and climbs the near turnbuckle, tossing his leather jacket and dress shirt asunder, where it lands in the arms of some lucky fan sitting front row. He raises his arms, surveying his enemies and his tag partner for this contest. He hops down into the ring, and as the lights come on and the music fades, replaced by the din and the buzzing of the crowd, each team confers... the rookies step out onto the apron as the veterans remain. The bell rings.

 

*DING DING DING*

 

It’s go time. Thoth and Mercury circle each other, looking for either man to make a mistake, and therefore seize the advantage... but neither man makes any mistakes big enough to exploit. They lock up with each other, struggling against each other’s will, muscles and sinews twisting. They struggle, going down to one knee... but finally, Thoth shoves Mercury down to the mat, demonstrating his superior power in that encounter. Thoth smiles wickedly at the fallen Regenerate Warrior, but Mercury gets to his feet quickly, and lunges forwardm initiating the lockup. Thoth doesn’t have time to react, and Mercury speedily presses his leverage advantage, pushing Thoth down. Mercury lets out a singular laugh, as Thoth sits up on his elbows, looking up at a man he dangerously underestimated. He gets to his feet; Mercury giving him room to do so. He starts to circle around Mercury, who quickly does the same, and they lock up again, this time fighting not with strength of will, but strength of mind as well. Mercury shifts his mass horizontally, getting behind Thoth with a hammerlock. He twists the wrist, locking Thoth in place as best he can while the Balancer shifts around, looking for a way out. He reaches through his own legs, grabbing at Mercury, trying to reach a piece of him... he gets a hold of his thigh and starts to pull... so Mercury has to release the hammerlock or risk being put in a precarious position. Thoth spins around to face Mercury, and takes a right hand to the face. He manages to keep his feet planted, though the force of the blow does knock his body back. Another right hand from Mercury knocks him back a step, but Thoth comes back, stepping forward into a punch of his own, striking Mercury in the cheek just below the eye. Mercury’s arms flail back; Thoth grabs one of them and whips Mercury to the ropes. Mercury flows through and reverses the whip, sending Thoth for the ride. The Balancer comes off the rebound with a full head of steam, but Mercury leapfrogs over him. Thoth runs harmlessly into the other set of ropes, and comes back brandishing a clothesline. Mercury has it scouted, and ducks down, taking Thoth up and over with a back body drop.

 

“Fairly technical seesaw contest to start out,” comments Stevens. “But look at their parnters on the outside.” The camera pans to show Ced Ordonez, who is hopping up and down on the apron in anticipation of the first moments of action in SWF ring, while Frost stands on his end much more stoic... or appears to be, but on closer inspection, his entire body is shaking and shivering with anticipation. The camera cuts back to the action in the ring, as Thoth has been pulled to his feet. Another Irish Whip sends Thoth hard into a neutral corner. Mercury saunters in, smiling cockily-

 

“Cockily? Is that a word?” Stevens asks the match-writer. “Heh,” adds Riley, “It’s a funny word.”

 

“A word that I bet you really like, Bobbi,” says Stevens, taking special care to emphasize that funny, funny vowel. Mercury goes to work on Thoth in the corner, punching him with one motion of his hand, and then delivering thunderous chops to the chest with the back of that same hand. The crowd lets out an “Woo!” and then nothing for a second... and then another “Woo!” Mercury has had enough of that, and whips Thoth to the opposite corner. Mercury charges in, brandishing a vicious clothesline, but Thoth gets a boot up, stunning the Regenerate Warrior long enough for Thoth to slip out of the corner. Mercury turns back towards his opponent, and Thoth is ready with a punch to the face, and a whip to the ropes. Mercury seems unprepared for the velocity suddenly imparted to him, and can’t control his movements. On the rebound... Thoth hits a giant flipping arm drag, sending Mercury’s spine hard into the canvas. The momentum is so great that Thoth ends up landing on his stomach and hips. He pushes himself up to his feet as Mercury finds himself staring at the arena lights briefly before starting to get up. Thoth helps him get up all the way, pulling him up to his feet by his hair. He hooks him for a front facelock... and snaps him over for a suplex! The sudden shift in speed carries Thoth into the float-over where he hooks the leg...

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

And a swift kickout by Mercury. Thoth, not daunted in the least, pulls Merc up and pushes him into the ropes before whipping him once again, standing ready to hit him with something hopefully big. Mercury, off the rebound... rushes towards Thoth, who is crouched and ready...

 

“Spinning heel kick! Out of nowhere from Mercury!” yells Stevens, excitedly, as Thoth falls down on his back int the direction of his momentum before sitting up- but it’s too late, as Mercury makes it to his corner, tagging in Ced Ordonez for his first action inside an SWF ring. Fans of the Z & Ced connection start to pop like mad, as Ced himself steps through the ropes, looking out at the sudden deluge of fans he has made. Thoth looks up at Ced, smiling and nodding evilly before getting to his feet and stands in front of him, staring down at the 5 foot and 9 inch technical genius. Ced charges in for the lock-up, but Thoth throws a forearm to the face, catching Ced on the bridge of the nose. Ordonez stumbles back while the Balancer grabs him around the chin, snap-maring him down to the mat into a sitting position. Something clicks in Thoth’s head, a recognizable situation, and he flings himself backward into the ropes. Building steam as he exhales through tightly clenched teeth, Thoth dashes forward to drive the knee into the back of Ced Ordonez’s head, at the point where skull and spinal cord connect...

 

And Ced leans to the side! Thoth flies overhead awkwardly, landing in a heap far in front of Ced. He pulls himself up as Ced approaches stealthily from behind... he kicks Thoth in the back of the leg, just below the knee, and then while Thoth is staggerig, he backflips, aiming his upward-flying leg at the same place Thoth was aiming his knee just moments ago. The rapid succession of kicks knocks Thoth silly as he falls face-first to the canvas. The crowd comes out of their seats, cheering for Ced’s first offensive move in the Smarks Wrestling Federation.

 

“Wow!” yells Stevens. “Ced’s first seconds in the SWF and he puts Thoth down on the canvas already!

 

“Pfeh, lucky break,” chides Riley as Ced looks bewildered, his eyes going wide, his body freezing. Did he just knock Thoth down? It takes Mercury’s yelling and insisting for him to snap out of it. The veteran yells, “The cover! Go for the cover!” Ced drops down, and rolls Thoth over, but the Balancer kicks him in the face and pushes him back, as he crawls backwards towards his corner and reaches up without looking. The big man from Iceland reaches down to accept the tag.

---

And at that moment, the writing style of the match changes!

---

Stevens: “And there’s the tag to Frost who enters the ring for his SWF debut.”

 

Frost confidently steps over the top ring rope and stares a whole through Ced as Thoth slips to the apron through the ropes. Ced backs up to the far corner and slaps his arms with either hand to reset himself to deal with the mammoth grappler.

 

Stevens: “It will be intriguing to see how the quick and cagey Ced chooses to deal with his much bigger opponent.”

 

Riley: “Ordonez could choose to plop down in the center of the ring and start playing the bagpipes and it wouldn’t matter. Frost outweighs him by nearly ninety pounds and has ten inches on him. Of course, that’s just what Syndey Sky told me.”

 

Frost lurches forward as Ced explodes out of the corner and lands a dropkick to right below Frost’s left knee. Frost falls down to that knee while his right leg angles out to the side. Ordonez skips back to place all of his weight on his right leg and fires a thrust kick out to Frost’s jaw. Frost gets his hands up in time to catch the leg scant millimeters from his face. Ced jumps up and down in place three times to build a little momentum and then flips himself up and over in an enzuigiri attempt. Frost ducks his head just slight enough to make Ced miss and grabs onto his opponent’s other ankle as it brushes past his ear. With an ankle in each hand, Frost quickly rises to feet while twisting Ced over to his front and then promptly drops back down to the mat in a sitting position to drive Ced face first into the canvas.

 

Stevens: “A inverted modified spinning face jam…uh….type thingy by Frost.”

 

Riley: “Mark, you’re not Gordon Solie, just admit you don’t know what to call it.”

 

Frost keeps hold of Ced’s left ankle and wraps his right arm around his left calf. Frost stands up and pulls Ordonez up with him to dangle by the one appendage over the ring. Ced’s arms wildly flail as he tries to find a handhold on the canvas. With a grunt of exertion, Frost tosses Ced straight up into the air so their heads are level. As he falls, Frost cinches Ced in a facelock and grabs a handful of tights to direct the grappler’s descent straight down on his head. Ced rolls over on his back as Frost sits up and screams back at the jeering crowd.

 

Stevens: “What a brainbuster! Ordonez is just getting tossed around by Frost like a rag doll.”

 

Riley: “Better than Frost tossing his salad.”

 

Frost finally rolls over to lateral press Ordonez and the ref drops to the canvas to count.

 

ONE

 

TWO

 

THRE-

 

Ced shifts his shoulder at the last split second to break the pin.

 

Stevens: “A near fall there, Bobby, and going back to what you said before, I don’t think Frost is into any ‘salad tossing’ as you so warmly refer to. We both know that Frost is romantically involved with former SJL World Champion and budding superstar Sydney Sky.”

 

Riley: “A lot of people said that she’s made him soft, but he looks hard as a rock to me here against Ced. Getting away from that broad might be good for him.”

 

Stevens: “You have no idea how gay I could make those last statements sound.”

 

Frost momentarily scowls at the referee before taking Ced by either side of his head and yanking him to his feet. Frost headbutts Ced on the top of his forehead to soften him up that much more before taking him by the wrist and whipping him into the far ropes. Ordonez bounces off still dazed, but he sees Frost’s out stretched arm for a clothesline a mile away and skims to the mat to baseball slide underneath it. Frost spins around as Ced pops to his feet and makes toward Mercury’s reaching hand begging for the tag. Frost thunders a powerful elbow into the base of Ced’s skull to plunge him back to the mat. Frost then takes a wild swing at Mercury, who dodges back with both hands on the top rope.

 

Stevens: “Frost cuts off the tag and takes an unnecessary swing at Mercury.”

 

Frost leans down to pick Ordonez up by underneath his arms and lifts him up into the air. He nonchalantly tosses him across the ring to the diagonal corner where Thoth stands in wait. Ced slumps in the turnbuckles stunned and breathing hard. Frost then turns back around to Mercury and points a finger to taunt the recently returned grappler. Frost waves Mercury to come in and the ruffled fighter steps one leg through the ropes. The referee quickly runs into Mercury with his shoulder and does his best to keep the man on the apron. With the ref’s back now turned, Thoth reaches over the ropes and chokes Ced out with both hands. Ordonez’s eyes go wide and his tongue darts out of his mouth as he tries to fight free. Frost pivots back toward Ordonez and charges like a locomotive gathering steam to slam up against Ced as Thoth holds him in place. Frost steps back as Thoth lets go and the outgunned grappler falls to the mat in a heap.

 

Riley: “It seems like a very necessary swing now to distract the ref, doesn’t it? Thoth is rubbing off on that boy already.”

 

The ref finally convinces Mercury to retake his perch on the ring apron and turns around to find Frost dropping to his knees to make a lateral press over Ced. He rushes across the ring and falls into the place for another count.

 

ONE

 

TWO

 

THRE-

 

Ced lifts his leg up to place it on the nearby bottom rope and the referee taps Frost on the shoulder to break the pin. Frost looks at the ref more disgusted than he did on the previous pin attempt.

 

Riley: “I know that Thoth is always on the look out for new Clan members and he has to be impressed in what he sees here with Frost.”

 

Stevens: “While that might be, who said Frost wanted to join the Clan?”

 

Riley: “Have you been smoking banana peels out back with MacPhisto again? Who wouldn’t want to join the Clan?”

 

Frost pulls the shaky Ced to his feet and stands with his back to him. Frost grabs him around the neck and snapmares Ordonez over his shoulder to the canvas. Frost clamps his arm tighter around the bottom of Ced’s face and grinds in a chinlock.

 

Stevens: “As impressive an addition as Frost might be to the Clan, he has a notorious reputation for not playing well with others.”

 

Riley: “Yeah, why don’t you call Sydney Sky and ask her how well he ‘plays’ with others.”

 

Frost locks his fingers tightly together and pulls up back and hard on the maneuver. The ref positions himself in front of Ordonez and asks him if he wants to the give up. The resilient XF9’er shakes his head ‘no’ as the fans whoop and holler to rally him.

 

Stevens: “Both of these men come to us with good regards from the SJL…”

 

Riley (interrupting) “Meaning that cheapskate commissioner MacPhisto was just looking to trim the payroll again.”

 

Stevens: (ignoring that slander) “As I was going to say, Bobby, although both these men were top SJL stars it is interesting to note that these two have only met up once before. Do you know how?”

 

Frost snarls at the crowd like an angry lion and knuckles down even harder on the hold. Mercury starts clapping his hands together on the apron and the crowd starts into a “Ced, Ced, Ced,” chant. Ordonez defiantly raises up his arm and shakes it with gathering energy.

 

Riley: “A drunken biker brawl at a BTO concert! How the hell should I know? You’re the one paid to keep those factoids in your head.”

 

Stevens: “It was a tag team match a few weeks ago that saw Frost and his partner Sydney Sky beat the C & Z Connection in convincing fashion. It will be interesting to see if Ced goes down two to zero to the big Icelander here.”

 

Frost continues to bellow at the crowd as their feverish chanting mounts. “CED! CED! CED! CED!” Ced reaches out with both hands, much too far from the ropes to grasp them, and tries to power his way up. Sadly, Ordonez is no match for Frost in the strength department and has little luck in forcing his way to his feet. Frost finally has enough of the zealous fans and breaks the hold of his own accord. He stands up and pulls Ced up to him by under his left armpit. Frost reaches across Ced’s neck with his other arm and locks his fingers on his other arm. A woozy, but thinking Ced steps around and grapevines his left leg around Frost’s. When he lifts Ordonez up off the mat, Ced’s leg catches and knocks Frost off balance. The two stumble clumsily back into the near ropes and Ced is able to slip out of Frost’s grip as he is momentarily tangled up in the stiff strands.

 

Stevens: “Ced blocks the Taz-plex and desperately needs to make the tag.”

 

Riley: “I think he desperately needs to fine a new line of work.”

 

Frost springs forward out of the ropes to land on his stomach on the mat. He reaches out and catches Ced by the ankle before he can scurry over to Mercury. Ced props himself up on his right arm, while reaching out with his left for the tag. Mercury stretches out as far as he can, the muscles in his arm straining, but the two still have over a foot of space to close and Frost is not allowing that to happen.

 

Stevens: “Much like a lucky bounce after a punt, Frost was fortunate enough to hurdle forward into the right spot to snag Ced from reaching Mercury.”

 

Riley: “Wouldn’t matter. Frost would just beat Merc’ up too. I like this new kid and I’m sure Thoth does too. This is stacking up to be the easiest ass kicking he probably ever laid on someone.”

 

Frost jerks Ced back to him as he rises up on his knees and flips him over on his back. He falls forward from his position to drop a cocked elbow into Ced’s stomach. Ced gives an ‘oof’ of pain and Frost wraps one of his huge grizzly bear paws around Ced’s throat and wrings his neck of every last breath he can force out. The referee starts his dq count and Frost reluctantly breaks at four. Thoth smiles evilly from the apron in appreciation.

 

Stevens: “We’re not seeing the type of quick tags and teamwork that we usually see in a tag team encounter. Frost had a perfect chance to make a tag right there.”

 

Riley: “You amaze me with your stupidity every time you open your mouth Mark? This is the first time these two teams have ever been together and Ced is the only one of the three that can be considered a tag team technician. However, he doesn’t have his usual partner in Z to work with and that seems to be throwing him off his game. Coupled with the fact that Frost is doing a perfect job of cutting the ring in half on him.”

 

Frost takes Ced by the back of his head and slightly lifts him up. Frost points over at Mecury as if to signal he is coming into the ring. The referee shifts his eyes over to Mercury and starts over to his corner. Mercury lifts up his hands to plead that he is doing nothing wrong and Frost returns to the choke on Ordonez. The crowd jeers with contempt and the ref spins back around to catch Frost and start another dq count.

 

Riley: “On the other hand, Frost and Thoth are just two mean ass son of a bitches who like to pound as much ass as they can on their own.”

 

Stevens: “You better not let Frost and Thoth hear you say they like to ‘pound ass.’”

 

Riley: (flustered) “I didn’t mean like that, Stevens, get your mind out of the gutter.”

 

Frost holds on until past five and the ref threatens to call for the bell before Frost breaks. The fans are near riotous for the Iceman’s blood. Frost stands up and raises a solitary fist of ‘up yours’ to the crowd who boo even louder.

 

Stevens: “Any good will Frost might have built up through his relationship with Sky in the SJL has quickly burned off here already.”

 

Ced rolls over onto is stomach still gagging and trying to catch his breath. He makes a hurried attempt to reach Mercury for the tag, but Frost drops an elbow to the back of his neck to halt him. Frost picks the near dead Ordonez up by his shoulders and shoves him under his arm in a facelock.

 

Stevens: “Frost lines up the impaler DDT he calls the Ice Pick.”

 

Riley: “One of about 37 secondary finishers in his arsenal, because Frost can beat you anyway he wants too.”

 

Frost reaches out his right hand to Thoth and gives a monstrous laugh as he teases the tag with Ordonez clearly at his mercy. Thoth scoffs back and waves Frost on to finish him. At that moment, Ced slips out of the hold and drops to the mat. He grabs Frost’s left leg firmly with both hands and twists the surprised wrestler over and onto his back with a dragon screw leg whip. The crowd pops frenziedly.

 

Stevens: “Frost’s arrogance has cost him and now Ced is proving his smarts and perseverance.”

 

Frost staggers up to his feet, shocked by Ordonez fighting back more than the blow itself. With desperate adrenaline flowing, Ced plants himself on his left leg and delivers a roundhouse kick to Frost’s jaw. The big man bends over and grabs the side of his face in agony. With his back turned to Frost on the swinging completion of the kick, Ced resets his stance and wows the fans with a standing backflip that ends with him nailing Frost like a jackhammer with a kick to the back of his head. Frost collapses to the mat and Thoth swears curses on the apron while Mercury aches for the tag on the opposite side.

 

Stevens: “Ced hits his patented double strike combo and it’s a race for each man to make the needed tag.”

 

Ced lies on the canvas for a second, feeling his quick burst of energy fading. He tilts up at the chest to lock eyes with Mercury and starts dragging himself from the center of the ring by his arms. Frost’s head sways on his shoulders as if it’s hanging from a busted hinge. He pivots around on is right elbow to face Thoth and makes the hard crawl for his partner as well.

 

Riley: “It’s a snail race. Both these men have been in the ring way too long and are exhausted.”

 

Ced and Frost are both ¾ of the way to their corners as the fans roar with anticipation. Ced makes one last, dire dive to the corner and brushes his fingers up against Mercury’s. The ref claps his hands and points to the corner to signal the tag and the audience erupts like a volcano. Mercury charges into the ring as Ced rolls underneath the bottom rope to the apron. Frost windmills one of his long arms around to slap Thoth and rolls out of the ring to the floor to make way for him. Thoth steps through the second rope to be greeted by Mercury already airborne with a dropkick. He catches Thoth in the shoulder and, with one leg still on the apron; he loses his balance and falls to the floor. Frost vaults back up to the apron and Mercury seizes his head in both hands and leaps into the air to come crashing to the mat on his rear and he clotheslines Frost in the throat with the top rope. Frost goes flying backwards to the floor to slap the concrete outside with a wet thud.

 

Stevens: “Mercury has the mercury rising in this building as the fans are hot for his team to make the big comeback.”

 

Riley: “Yeah, yeah, whatever, wake me when Thoth twists him into an erector set.” (Riley yawns)

 

Mercury flexes for the juiced crowd and they can easily see that he is in the best shape of his career. A disgusted Thoth deftly slides back into the ring and tackles Mercury around the knees and drives him to the mat. Thoth mounts him and reins a series of punches into his face.

 

Stevens: “I guarantee you that there is no love lost between these two as we clearly saw earlier and both men are well rested.”

 

Mercury puts up his arms to block the shots and, with a swish of his hips, flips Thoth over to the canvas and straddles him. Mercury starts laying in his own shots and the audience once again explodes with cheering.

 

Riley: “Yeah, but they both saw action earlier and with the way these two go at it, they are still feeling the punishment from earlier.”

 

Mercury slides off of Thoth and to his feet. Frost shakily climbs back to the apron as Ced hangs his head in the far corner still trying to recuperate. Thoth kicks his legs back and kips to his feet hoping to catch Mercury off guard, but the Regenerate King has already thrown his body into the near ropes. He skips up to the second rope and sails off with a springboard sidekick aimed right for Thoth’s chin. It connects and Thoth plummets back to the mat. Mercury twirls around on his planted leg and drops for the cover.

 

ONE

 

TWO

 

Thoth kicks out just as Mercury makes to hook the leg and both men quickly spring back to their feet.

 

Stevens: “That sidekick nearly felled him, but Thoth has too much left to be downed like that. Both men go to the ropes.”

 

Thoth runs to the center of the ring off the ropes and drops down to his stomach. Mercury hops over him and heads to the far ropes. Thoth jumps to his feet and stands firm. Mercury comes at him and leapfrogs up over the man’s head aiming for the far ropes again. Thoth spins around just as Mercury slingshots himself off the ropes and sails at Thoth with a cross body. Thoth catches Mercury with one hand around his shoulder and the other between his legs, but the momentum of Mecurcy knocks both men over to the canvas. However, Thoth craftily rolls with the flow and manages to flip over on top for a pin.

 

ONE

 

TWO

 

Mercury kicks out with gusto and both men once again lunge to their feet.

 

Riley: “Ok, so maybe these two do have a lot left in them. But it can’t last forever, they weren’t exactly downing Gatorade and chowing on Nutri-Grain bars in the corners.”

 

Mercury runs back to the ropes and sprints toward Thoth. The Clan leader slightly sidesteps his rushing opponent and hooks arms with him. Thoth once again rolls with Mercury’s motion and gives him the flipping arm drag. Thoth scurries on the mat to climb on top of the briefly stunned Mercury and hooks his leg for the pin.

 

ONE

 

TWO

 

Mercury kicks out and rolls over to his side away from Thoth and attempts to pull himself up by the ring ropes. Thoth makes his feet first and runs up behind Mercury to strike him with a knee to the back of the head before he can gain his feet. Mercury falls down to one knee and shakes his head in trying to knock loose the building cobwebs.

 

Stevens: “The knee to the back of the head from Thoth finally connects... he is going to need a high impact move here if he hopes to put Mercury away for good.”

 

Thoth pulls Mercury up with a hand underneath each arm and re-clamps his arms around the grappler’s waist. Thoth bends his knees slightly to gain a little leverage and hoists Mercury up and over his head being sure to bridge upon the completion of the belly-to-belly suplex.

 

Stevens: “AND THERE’S THAT BIG MOVE WITH A NORTHERN LIGHTS SUPLEX!”

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

THRE-

 

Ced flies in at the last moment to break the bridged pin with a boot to Thoth’s gut. He looks up to see Frost charging at him with a clothesline in retaliation and the referee fruitlessly starts a count to get both illegal men out of the ring. Ced ducks under the clothesline and runs a little half circle in the ring with his head down as Frost pulls up on his stride and spins back around. Ced catches Frost full in the midsection with an explosive spear to drive him back into the corner. The audience is ballistic.

 

Stevens: “ALL FOUR MEN IN THE RING NOW AND CHAOS REIGNS SUPREME!”

 

Riley: “I wouldn’t go that far, excitable one. Let’s say it’s mildly disheveled in there.”

 

Ced fires three European uppercuts into Frost face. He wags his head to shake them off and gets his arms up under Ced’s chest to push him back off of him. Frost then slides to the floor under the bottom rope and Ordonez gives chase.

 

Stevens: “C’mon, Bobby, it’s a pay-per-view let’s sell this to the fans at home.”

 

Riley: “Why? They’ve already bought the damn thing.”

 

Stevens: “Oh…yeah…”

 

Thoth and Mercury struggle up to their feet, but Thoth is still in a little better shape than Mercury and throws his arms around the man’s waist and swiftly twirls him upside down with the Regenerate King’s feet over his head.

 

Riley: “THOTH IS GOING FOR THE RIOT OF THE BLOOD! NOW IT’S TIME TO GET EXCITED!”

 

Stevens: “WHILE FROST AND CED HAVE AN UNCONROLLABLE BRAWL ON THE FLOOR!”

 

However, before Thoth can lock Mercury’s legs for the cradle, he clamps his ankles together behind his opponent’s head. Mercury puts his arms on the mat for a little push and ranas Thoth head over his heels to the canvas. Mercury pops up in a sitting position over Thoth’s throat and squats down for the pin.

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

THRE-

 

With amazing dexterity, Thoth folds his body in half and just manages to raise his legs high enough to catch Mercury around the top of his head and pulls him over in a makeshift sunset flip.

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

THRE-

 

Mercury brings his released legs together to clap Thoth in the ears and the Clan leader is forced to free the hold and rolls to this side.

 

Riley: “HELL, LOOK AT THAT SEQUENCE! I GIVE YOU PERMISSION TO GO FULL GONZO BATSHIT!”

 

On the outside, Ced is peppering Frost with stiff jabs to the chest and stomach that back him up. Mercury rolls up to his feet while Thoth labors to his knees. Mercury glances at his partner to see that he has things well in hand and waits for Thoth to get up with his hands resting on his knees. Thoth unsteadily makes it up and Mercury jacks him in the jaw with a thrust kick that sends him reeling back to the far corner. Mercury follows at a dead run and spins around in mid-stride to send a back elbow into the upper part of Thoth’s chest. Mercury readjusts his positioning and grapevines his arms around Thoth’s to lift him up in a crucifix.

 

Stevens: “THOTH IS ABOUT TO BE SPELLBOUND!”

 

Riley: “I DID NOT GIVE YOU PERMISSION TO GO FULL GONZO BATSHIT FOR MERCURY!”

 

Mercury hauls Thoth out to the center of the ring and spins him around for the entire crowd to get a good look at the prone heel. On the floor, Frost finally gets his hands in to defend himself and pushes Ced back. Ced charges and Frost sidesteps him while putting both hands on his back to help him rush full speed into the far guardrail. Ordonez takes it in the back and slumps down. Mercury turns Thoth to face the lower half of the ring where Frost is on the floor and the ref jumps in front of Mercury to count the pin when he slams the man down. Frost looks up and slyly bounds to the apron in a crouch and yanks on Thoth’s right foot to pull him out of the hold. Frost silently drifts back to the floor.

 

Stevens: “FROST JERKS THOTH FREE AND THE REF DIDN’T SEE IT WITH MERCURY’S BODY BLOCKING HIS VIEW!”

 

Riley: “PERMISSION TO GO FULL GONZO BATSHIT AGAIN!”

 

Thoth grips Mercury by the shoulder and whiplashes him around. He stuns the man with a knee to the gut and locks his arms around his midsection to flip him over his head and this time waists not a moment in cradling the legs and driving Mercury’s head into the mat with violent force.

 

Riley: “RIOT OF THE BLOOD! BATSHIT BABY!”

 

Thoth drapes himself on top for the pin just as Ced bolts into frame on the outside and blindsides the on looking Frost with a steel chair.

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

THREE!

 

*DING DING DING*

 

Stevens: “THAT’S IT, FROST AND THOTH STEAL A HEINOUS VICTORY!”

 

Riley: “A WIN’S A WIN EVEN IF IT IS HEINOUS, YOU ANUS!”

 

Ced continues to cream Frost with a steel chair and forces him back to the guardrail nearest the entrance ramp. Thoth sees this and leaves Mercury still out on the canvas to climb to the apron. Thoth comes off the apron with a double axe handle to the back of Ced’s head and he drops the chair. Thoth pulls Ced off of Frost and the two heels hurry up the ramp before he can recover. Ced thinks to give chase, but then remembers Mercury in the ring and slides under the bottom rope to check on him.

 

Funyon: (from ringside) “Here are your winners. The team of THOOOOOOTH... and FRRRRRRROOOOOSSSSSSSTTTTT!”

 

Riley: “I have to say that was one frothy match-up and Frost impressed me in his debut here.”

 

Stevens: “Let’s not overlook Ordonez who showed heart and persistence throughout, even in the face of certain defeat. I’m sure Frost wouldn’t look so pretty if Thoth had saved him from Ced just now.”

 

Riley: “You’re saying he looked pretty before?”

 

Stevens: (with a sigh) “Folks, bear with us as we prepare for the next exciting match.”

The camera cuts away as Ced helps Mercury up to his feet and the crowd gives a heartfelt cheer for the faces losing effort.

[Guest BA_Baracus]

SWF Snake Eyes returns with an opening shot displaying the exterior of the Melon arena. The outskirts of the stadium remain littered with rednecks who appropriately munch away on melons, and a herd of confused vampires being told that they are located in Pennsylvania, not Transylvania. The camera pans upwards to reveal a towering titanitron-like sign, conspicuously flashing: “SWF SNAKE EYES! SOLD OUT!” accompanied by yet another advertisement: “TICKETS ON SALE! SCREAM 2! THE MARIONETTE VERSION!”

 

*BOOM*

 

A broad wall of silvery, glistening pyro cannons itself from the stage positioned within the arena, signaling the re-initiation of the show, as it returns from the depths of Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania! The large red and jagged lettering that spells out “SWF SNAKE EYES” flashes across the screen, just as Motorhead’s “Ace of Spades” kicks up from the loud speakers.

 

“If you like to gamble, I tell you I’m your man!”

“You win some! Lose some! It’s all the same to me!”

“The pleasure is to play, makes no difference what you say,”

“I don't share your greed, the only card I need is…”

“The Ace Of Spades!”

 

“The Ace of Spades!” Bob Riley chokes out in an offbeat slur, head banging to Motorhead’s catchy tunes.

 

Riley: “The Ace of Spades! Playing for the high one! Dancing with the…”

Stevens: “Please Bobby, please. You’re not paid to sing.”

Riley: “…Wait, I’m paid?”

Stevens: “Ahem. Welcome back ladies, gents, and everything in between to SWF Snake Eyes! Coming to you LIVE [murmuring] on tape [again speaking in his normal voice] on Pay-Per-View!”

Riley: “We’ve already witnessed a load of…”

Stevens: “Spectacular matches including Team Froth going up against Team MerCedez, and Smarks Wrestling Federation Light-Heavyweight Champion El Luchadores Magnificico defending his belt against Xero!”

Riley: “They sucked.”

Stevens: “They were spectacular matches actual…”

Riley: “You suck.”

Stevens [fuming a bit yet keeping control]: “Ahem. However, next up is a matchup which will surely be one to keep in your memory bank, as four Smarks Junior League bumpees square off in a match to decide the #1 contender of the SWF US Title!”

Riley: “That’s right! Z, Tod deKindes, ‘Deathwish’ Danny Williams and the master of everything in existence ‘TNT’ Taylor Nicholas Thompson!”

Stevens: “A bit biased, but that about sums up the carnage to follow, so let’s go down to Funyon for the introductions.”

 

The camera pans over to the interior of the squared circle, where Funyon stands in his usual K-Mart get-up, microphone pressed against his lips…

 

Funyon: “Ladies, gentleman, and Bob Riley, this match is schedules for…um…THREE FALLS and is for the #1 contendership of the Smarks Wrestling Federation United States Title! This is a 4-way elimination match! Once a man is pinned, submits, is counted out, or disqualified, he must leave the ringside area and CANNOT interfere in the match! Introducing, the first competitor in this bout, weighing in at a lean and/or mean 227 pounds, hailing from Germany, well, technically Canada, but you know, he was raised in Germany and stuff, and I’m getting off track, ahem, one of six SJL bumpees, TOD DEKINDES!!!!!!!!”

 

A thick layer of smoke invades the entrance ramp as Slipknot’s “I Am Hated” begins to blare from the loudspeakers. A dark figure steps out onto the ramp, mystified in the sea of fog, silver framed glasses covering his eyes; a lanky trench coat draped over his body; dark, long hair streaming down his face. Suddenly, a pair of blinding strobe lights illuminate the silhouette, revealing it to be Tod deKindes! A thunderous “Tod-ski!” chant starts up as he methodically saunters down the aisle way, glancing at the approving audience along the way. deKindes approaches the ring, sliding under the bottom rope with ease, as he stands to his feet, striding over to a nearby turnbuckle. Tod scales the ring post to the second rope, letting out a mighty roar to the fans as they pop like thirty-two-and-a-half cherries. Tod removes his excess clothing [sunglasses, coat] and paces back and forth in the vertex of the ring, glaring at the entrance ramp, awaiting his opponents…

 

Stevens: “Tod looks ready to rumble for tonight’s match, sure to make a promising debut in the SWF, whether he wins or loses.”

Riley: “Eh, he’s a sissy, look at that sissy, what a sissy!”

Stevens: “Actually he’s beaten quite a few competitors involved in this very same mat…”

Riley: “What a sissy!”

Stevens: “Notice how rounded off style wise this match has been molded out to be, we’ll be getting highflying from Tod, some technical grappling from Danny, hardcore brawling via Z, and of course some big power moves courtesy of the monstrous TNT.”

Funyon: “Second but not least, weighing in at a dynamite 267 pounds, hailing from the duck infested depths of Anaheim, California, he is the longest reigning SJL television champion OF ALL TIME, ‘TNT’ Taylor Nicholas Thompson!”

 

“Oy! Oy! Oy!”

 

An A-Bomb of boos explodes in the arena as AC/DC’s “TNT” kicks up, accompanied by bright orange strobe lights, which flood the building as the bright red letters “T-N-T” flash across the Smarktron, followed by several highlights of the explosive one’s career [TNT being hurled onto an explosive board by Tod deKindes, TNT driving Vanguard into the mat with a top-rope tombstone piledriver, and TNT finger-cuffing himself to Z [and not Chasing Amy style, with Chinese finger-cuffs you sick fucks.]] The curtains ruffle slightly as Thompson steps out into the orange radiance, a sadistic, yet concentrated expression painted across his face. Taylor meticulously marches down the ramp…

 

“Watch me explooooooooooodddeeee!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

 

But soon finds himself sprinting at full speed as Bon Scott shrieks out Taylor’s catchphrase [quite a catchy one too,] with a seemingly newfound surge of energy! Thompson slides into the ring, almost colliding with the cautious deKindes, as the two strike a quick glance of rivalry, interrupted by TNT, who continues his entrance ritual. Thompson begins to hit each turnbuckle, yelping out a “KABOOM!” on each one, while Tod stares at him with pure hatred, and a glint of respect in his eye.

 

Stevens: “Though one can’t deny TNT’s physical prowess, we have to acknowledge his rather ‘dirty’ preference winning wise.”

Riley: “What, like porn dirty?”

Stevens: “No, cheating dirty…actually, now that I think of it, in one match, it was both.”

Riley: “Maybe, Grand Spam, but it’s not that he NEEDS too, it’s just because he can. Now, I must tell you, I’ve seen some tapes of TNT in a few matches back in his New Jersey days, and they show just how great a wrestler he is. Hell, he seems even better when you watch the tapes stoned.”

 

Thompson’s music comes to a stop, as he strides over to the center of the ring. Tod and him catch eachother’s line of sight, staring one another down.

 

Stevens: “And let’s not forget the history between these two Booby!”

Riley: “Must you call me that?”

Stevens: “You called me Grand Spam, so yes. As I was saying, these two have feuded mutually, teamed up, and feuded sadistically. I don’t have time to go through all the details, but the steaming rivalry came to a heated conclusion when Tod deKindes defeated Taylor Thompson in a 2/3 falls match!”

Riley: “Well, he cheated!”

Stevens: “…It was no-DQ Bob.”

Riley: “You can’t tell me what I know and what I don’t Markey Mark.”

 

Tod and Taylor continue to stare eachother down, Tod deKindes posing the more intimidating look. Thompson notices this, and lifts a single fist into the air, reeling back…The heavy grinding grooves of Dillinger Escape Plan’s "Calculating Infinity" blast over the loud speakers, interrupting this pre-match attack by Thompson. “Deathwish” slinks across the Smarktron in white letters over a black backdrop. Black and white images appear on screen, such as a man tomb-stoning another from a ring apron to the floor, the same man making a large figure tap to a step over facelock, the same man delivering a Tiger Driver ’91 to…ah hell the fucking guy is Danny Williams.

 

Funyon: “Weighing in at 238 pounds, wrestling out of Louisville, Kentucky, the town of fried chicken, he is a former SJL World Champion, ‘Deathwish’ Danny Williams!”

 

Danny Williams slumps down the entrance ramp, signaling some polite applauds from his cult following, drowned out by a generally negative reaction…

 

Riley: “The fans as usual making their opinions clear, as Danny has his followers, but just isn’t getting the respect he needs, and deserves!”

Stevens: “Well believe me Bob, though his morale isn’t top-notch, I think it’s hardly debatable that Danny is an excellent addition to the SWF roster.”

Riley: “See, that’s what I’m talking about. Danno has EXCELLENT morale! Look at how long, when he was TNT’s manager, he allowed Thompson to hang around that lowlife Tod deKindes!”

Stevens: “Again, yet another chapter of this storyline revolving around Tod deKindes and Taylor Nicholas Thompson, as at one point Danny was actually Thompson’s manager, but was turned on when TNT teamed up with Tod deKindes! And that’s the short story, excluding the reuniting of the mentor/student, and again, the utter destruction of Williams at the hands of a bitter TNT.”

Riley: “That Thompson really knows how to use a baseball bat.”

 

Danny crawls up onto the ring apron, using the ropes for assistance, and enters the ring, ducking under a single rope to do so. Williams paces a bit, testing the ring ropes and such, when suddenly, he lunges at Tod deKindes with a diving elbow to the chin! Tod’s neck snaps back with unimaginable proportion, as he lets out a pained “Ugh!” and falls limply to the mat. Tod kips up, and quickly retorts with a sickening knife-edge chop! The crowd lets out a thunderous “WOOOOOOOHHHH!!!!!” in unison as Danny staggers back into the ropes, holding his reddened chest. Williams slightly reverberates off of the elastic ring ropes, tottering towards his German foe for what looks to be a forearm! Thompson intervenes however, immediately pouncing between the two, firing off numerous left and right hands into both competitor’s temples, turning left and right repeatedly to keep both men busy with his premature offense.

 

Stevens: “And all three of these men seem to have no desire to wait until the bell has rung with their pre-match brawling!”

Riley: “Hell, where’s that pussy Z anyway? Probably changing his pants after he wet them with fear when seeing his place on the card.”

 

All three competitors rally off evenly powered punches, forming a makeshift triangle while doing so. Suddenly, though not noticed by the grapplers, a few upbeat notes of Faith No More’s “Epic” grabs the attention of the audience, who immediately begin merrily screaming, awaiting the inevitable arrival of Z. A single spotlight shines down upon the pinnacle of the entrance ramp, as a small, rather unimpressive figure trots to the center of the light, smiling broadly. A loud “ZEE!” chant emits from the enthusiastic crowd, who eagerly observe Z’s ginger movements, as he quickly motions a respectful salute to the viewing fans. Z stops just at the nadir of his journey’s path, twirling his hand and holding it against his ear in a Hogan-esque motion. The terribly violent versions of the Three Stooges that are Z’s opponent take no notice to his arrival, or his existence in general, as they all begin to gain a fatigued vibe among them due to their overly energetic fisting contest [fisting as in PUNCHING.] Z slips under the bottom rope, rubbing the streaming bangs of his cyan blue hair out of his face in order to observe the already ensuing mayhem.

 

Funyon: “Um, 229 pounds, Trenton, New Jersey, Z!”

Stevens: “All four men officially in the ring now, so let the games begin!”

 

*** DING DING DING ***

 

The three consecutive chimes of the bell inform the wrestlers to begin the match, but the action has already been commencing for a tad of time, and continues to do so, as Z stands to the side of the ring, monitoring the action from a relatively safe zone. Z extends his pointer finger, dotting each competitor in an orderly fashion, incoherently mumbling to himself.

 

Riley: “What the fuck is Z doing?”

Stevens: “He appears to be…playing a game of eenie, meenie, miney…”

 

“Mo” Z spouts out as his gaze diverts to the selected brawler, Taylor Nicholas Thompson. Z stretches both his left and right legs, as he steps backwards, reeling back into the ropes. The Z-ster rebounds from the elastic shafts, darting towards his targeted opponent! Z lurches forward, a single arm outstretched to his side, as he drives the side of his arm directly into the back of TNT’s head!

 

Riley: “Cheap shot!”

Stevens: “Z starts things out with a bang here, delivering the stiffest, most powerful and devastating move in his regular arsenal.”

Riley: “The Galatea Special?”

Stevens: “As Earth shattering the low blow is, no.”

Riley: “Ok hotshot, then what?”

Stevens: “Why, the clothesline of course.”

Riley: “…”

Stevens: “Not just ANY clothesline though, as his version is called the Arm Grenade!”

Riley: “…”

Stevens: “You see, the Arm Grenade is a far superior and stiffer move than the regular clothesline.”

Riley: “A clothesline.”

Stevens: “No, no, the ARM GRENADE.”

Riley: “A fucking clothesline.”

Stevens: “I think you’re misunderstanding…”

Riley: “His best move…is…a fucking clothesline.”

Stevens: “Okay, I admit it, his offense sucks.”

 

Stunned from the aforementioned clothesline, Taylor staggers a bit, tightening a single hand around the back of his head, his individual fingers clasping down on the pained area. Though hurt, and relatively surprised, TNT quickly collects himself, spinning around to deliver a sharp, accusing glare at the culprit. Z’s Adam’s apple reluctantly bobs as he gulps in a nervous fashion…

 

*** WHAM ***

 

Z is floored with a stiff elbow thrust courtesy of Williams, as the one letter wonder’s opponents drive their respective boots into various areas of his body, a bit annoyed at the little guy disturbing their barrage of punches on eachother. Z’s neck, ribcage and tibia become indented with footmarks as the three competitors relentlessly stomp away, showing no real hints of showing mercy.

 

Stevens: “It’s a three on one affair, as this trio of annoyed brawlers is putting the boots to Z!”

Riley: “YEAH! [singing] That’s the way, uh huh, uh huh, I like it, uh huh, uh huh.”

 

The pack of proverbial wolves metaphorically devours Z, who remains a bruised and beaten corpse. The stomps come to a gradual slow, as the three begin to ease up on the force of their offensive maneuvers. Tod deKindes, evidentially weary of attacking a single individual, leaps into the air, thrusting both of his feet forward into Danny Williams’ chest and completing an entire flip in the process!

 

Stevens: “Picture-perfect dropkick by the German grappler to the torso of the Kentucky technician!”

Riley: “Pitifully executed one might add.”

Stevens: “That’s a bit biased don’t you think?”

Riley: “Biased? Pfft. Yeah, and I’m ambiguously gay.”

Stevens: “…You ARE ambiguously gay Riley.”

Riley: “Ha! That’s what I make you THINK!”

Stevens: “You’re entire plan of deceit revolves around letting on that your gay?”

Riley: “…When you put it that way it does kind of sound a bit fruity…ahem…I mean, GENIUS! Everything I say and do is GENIUS!”

 

Williams stumbles into a turnbuckle pad, which cuts his fall short, catching him in the middle of this movement of anguish. He grasps at his chest, and slides down the turnbuckle until he has reached a full sitting position. Tod sprints over to the mat master in a follow up movement, but Deathwish drops to his side, wrapping his legs around the left foot of Tod. Danny pulls through with his two legs, fully toppling deKindes with a drop toehold, sending him crashing down to the mat! Tod falls to the apron, as his neck snaps against the bottom rope, sending a flow of pain into his throat. Danny immediately pounces a top the German, attempting to lock on a arm related hold of some sort; however, Danny’s tea party of pain is abruptly crashed by Thompson, who delivers a swift kick to the side of his head. Danny and Tod lay on the ground, Tod clasping his two arms around his neck, and Deathwish cupping the palm of a hand around a single bleeding ear. Z slowly but surely regains a standing posture, and immediately notices TNT, marveling at his own disposal of the wrestlers. Z scurries up behind Thompson, lurching from the mat, and wraps his arm around his neck in a reverse chinlock!

 

Stevens: “Oh my God! Reverse Chinlock of Eternal Pain and Endless Suffering! He could tap right here and right now!”

Riley [sarcastically and nonchalantly]: “Oh no, what will he ever do.”

 

Thompson drunkenly wanders about the ring, Z planted onto his rear, piggyback style, the circulation to his head becoming progressively weaker and weaker as Z cinches up on the devastating hold, tightening his arms around Taylor’s neck. Thompson is conveniently saved by the bell however, er…actually, saved by Danny Williams, to be more accurate. The now standing Williams, approaching Z, who is lodged onto Thompson’s back still; grabs a hold of the back of his neck, shouting out “Drop ‘em!” to the Z-bearing TNT. Taylor follows cue, deliberately falling backwards, nearly squashing Z in the process! Danny, still grasping at Z’s neck, also drops to a sitting position as Z’s collar shatters upon impact with his shoulder.

 

Stevens: “VERY nice Neckbreaker on the part of Williams, displaying a rather efficient manner in torqing the Z-ster’s neck.”

Riley: “I almost could hear the ‘snap’ on that one!”

 

Taylor withdraws from the carnage left by himself and Williams, but Danny remains directly next to Z, draping a single built, and rather tanned arm across the chest of him, making the cover! Referee Mathew Kivell drops to his knees, slapping a single hand down on the mat several times, each incident displaying his unimaginably amazing counting skills.

 

Kivell: “One!”

 

…

 

Kivell: “Tw…”

Stevens: “And Mathew is hardly able to make a two count, proving that it is much too early to be making a cover at this point in the match.”

 

Tod deKindes, up and adam throughout the entire execution of this double team maneuver, readily takes an attack stance, and dives into TNT with a spear into a nearby turnbuckle! Taylor is helplessly sandwiched between Tod and the post, letting out a grunt of desperation as Tod follows up, hooking both of the explosive one’s arms! Tod tugs at the vulnerable TNT, hardly managing to fully flip him over and plant him into the ring mat with a double Underhook butterfly suplex! Thompson grasps his arched back, as Tod pins both of his shoulders down to the mat!

 

Kivell: “One!”

 

…

 

Kivell: “Two!”

 

…

 

Stevens: “Not quite, as Thompson barely elevates his arm off of the mat just as Kivell reaches two!”

Riley: “Didn’t you notice how he waited till the last instant to kick out on purpose?”

Stevens: “No.”

 

Deathwish, methodically arranging himself into some sort of hold against Z, slowly but surely easing him into a modified dragon sleeper, tightening the hold around Z’s already pained neck! Meanwhile, as he does this, Tod yanks TNT up to his feet by his dark brown dreadlocks, preparing for yet another move…

 

Stevens: “Over here we have Z, who is slowly attempting to escape from some sort of Dragon sleeper, and over here we have Tod deKindes, who seems to be conspiring yet another offensive attack on the helpless TNT!”

 

Tod dodges around to the back of TNT, as he wraps both of his arms around the broad waist of TNT! Tod tugs on Thompson, preparing for what appears to be a German suplex, but Thompson twirls around the oblivious deKindes, locking on his own reverse waist lock! TNT desperately jerks Tod mercilessly from the mat as Tod goes flipping over his head, the back of his neck plunging into the mat! Thompson keeps the hold applied however, arching his back to form a sort of bridge. Tod’s shoulders on the mat, the ref makes the count…

 

Kivell: “One!”

 

…

 

Kivell: “Two!”

 

…

 

Kivell: “TWO COUNT!”

 

Tod does a complete backwards somersault, tumbling out of the pinning predicament with a good amount of difficulty. Meanwhile, Z has managed his way to his feet, though leaning backwards in a limbo pose due to the Dragon sleeper. Danny cinches even more on the hold as Kivell quickly switches from Tod and Taylor, who both seem to be lying lifelessly on the mat, to Danny and Z, repeatedly asking him if he quits…

 

Danny: “Ask him!”

Kivell: “Uh…”

Danny: “Well!? Ask him goddammit!”

Kivell: “Z! Do you quit?”

Z: “AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

Kivell: “Z! Do you quit!?”

Z: “Ewe! Your armpit smells like Mexican newspapers Danny!”

Kivell: “Z!?”

Z: “Owe!”

 

Danny drives his knee into Z’s back, putting even more pressure onto his fragile neck…

 

Kivell: “Do you quit?”

Z: “AAAAAHHHH!!!!! NO! I NEVER QUIT! NOOOO!!!!!!!”

Danny: “Fuck it…”

 

Continuing from the already acquired position of a Dragon sleeper, he drives Z’s neck into the ground with a viscous inverted DDT! Danny quickly hooks his leg…

 

Kivell: “One!”

 

…

 

Kivell: “Two!”

 

…

 

Kivell: “Thr…”

 

Z’s body jerks like a lizard’s tail with nerve endings that continues to work long after its disconnection from the lizard’s body, getting a single shoulder off of the mat.

 

Riley: “Oh come on ref! That was a pinfall right there!”

Stevens: “You have to wonder how long Z can go on with that bad neck of his…”

 

Taylor, who has rolled out into the ring’s outskirts, begins to rummage underneath the ring, while the referee, who is continuously distracted by the various combinations of wrestlers in this 4-man melee, attempts to count him out. Tod, who has regained consciousness and approached the nearly dead Z, thrusts his right foot into his neck with a brutal toe-punt! Danny Williams and Tod deKindes both raise Z to his feet, as they each grab a hold of one of his arms, Irish-whipping him into the opposing ropes! Z uncontrollably wavers to the ropes, reverberating off of them, and returning to Tod and Danny. Z stops short however, as he propels his arm into the head of Danny Williams, rendering him into a dazed state of mind, and slithers behind Tod deKindes, reaching a single arm through his legs, rolling him up with a School Boy!

 

Kivell: “One!”

 

…

 

Kivell: “Two!”

 

…

 

Z desperately clamps down on this maneuver, as Tod desperately wriggles his feet, still quite awestruck by this surprise attack!

 

Kivell: “Three!”

 

Just as Mathew slaps his hand on the mat for a third and final time, Tod kicks out, but is too late, as Kivell stands to his feet and begins screaming at him to return to the locker room! An enraged and furious Tod argues with the referee about the previous decision, but it is no use, as Kivell stands his ground.

 

Stevens: “Tod has been eliminated by a fluke pin courtesy of Z! Hell, that’s practically his first offensive move of the night, but the element of surprise helped Z seal the deal!

Riley: “Luck, all luck.”

 

Tod exits the ring, slowly meandering back to his dressing room, raising a single clenched fist in the air to signify his still relevant pride, as the arena goes wild in a respectful series of “de-Kin-des” chants, all standing up to show their belief in Tod. Along the way he passes TNT, who is still searching the contents of the ring’s underbelly. Thompson, who has gone through boxes of tops, rubber duckies, and several other children’s play things, finally gains a “Eureeka” expression on his face. Thompson reaches his right arm into the depths of the ring as far as it will stretch, but a wide, evil grin from Taylor indicates that he has apparently found his search fodder. Thompson pulls out a long, metal shaft, as the fans go wild!

 

Riley: “He’s gotta vibrator! Run away!”

Stevens: “It’s a baseball bat Riley, a baseball bat.”

Riley: “Oh. Well that’s almost as terrifying! We’ve all witnessed the victims of TNT’s baseball bat attacks, some STILL haven’t come out of comas!”

 

Taylor, aluminum baseball bat in hand, rolls into the ring, where Z has now hopped on top of Deathwish with a Lou Thesz Press attempt! Danny falls to the mat, onto his back, as Z continues to pummel him with several left and right hands!

 

Stevens: “Look at Z’s energy! Even after the beating he took! This folks, is a prime example of Z being a metaphorical sponge of pain.”

Riley: “…”

Stevens: “Aren’t you going to counter with a clever anti-face comment like ‘He accidentally fell on him’ or something?”

Riley: “Um…he’s using a body double…yeah…A BODY DOUBLE! THE CHEATER!”

Stevens: “I would expect better Riley…”

 

Taylor stands to his feet, circling the two brawlers, who roll over and over again like a Ferris Wheel of pain, all while plunging their fists into each other’s foreheads. Thompson stands next to the two, as he raises the metallic shaft high above his head, like a pigeon ready to strike…actually, something more dangerous…like an eagle ready to strike on its prey! Taylor swings downward, as the referee grabs a hold of the bat from behind! Kivell yanks the weapon away from the dumbfounded TNT, who spins around, fuming with anger! Taylor dives at the referee, who dodges, sending Taylor toppling into nothingness, driving himself shoulder first into the mat! Thompson kips up, again diving for the bat, as the ref steps to the side once more! The explosive one grasps nothing but ring rope, as he continues to chase the referee in the ring!

 

Stevens: “Well this is interesting, it’s a game of cat and mouse between TNT and the referee!”

Riley: “And rightfully so, taking someone’s private property away from them has a name you know: stealing!”

 

Danny, who has gained a slight advantage over Z, yanks him up by the ponytail of his dyes hair, Irish whipping him into a turnbuckle, and running after him, a single elbow extended! Z hops up to the second rope however, somewhat springing off of it and at Danny with a Ricky Steamboat flying body press! His outstretched body collides into Danny, who catches him in mid flight, and falls backwards in a quick jerking motion, flipping Z over his head with a fall away slam! Z goes soaring through the air, but just as he is about to come in contact with the unforgiving mat, his fall is cushioned by the referee, who steps in the way!

 

Riley: “Now this is what I’m talking about! Danny Williams just used Z as an actual projectile to clean the ref!”

Stevens: “Uh oh…”

 

The referee falls lifelessly to the mat, as his grip on the aluminum baseball bat significantly loosens to the point of letting it go, as it rolls the span of the ring, until it comes to the feet of the smirking TNT! Thompson leans over, picking up the dangerous object, gently smoothing it with his hand, as if it were an ancient artifact of some sort. Taylor smiles a malicious grin, sadistically sizing up his closest opponent, Z!

 

Riley: “Yeah! Let the bodies hit the floor!”

Stevens: “I can’t watch!”

Riley: “Really?”

Stevens: “No, I’m just saying that for dramatical purposes.”

 

TNT insanely sways over to the Z-ster, who is standing to his feet, holding his still aching neck in pain, and thrusts the blunt of the bad into the side of his neck! Z’s entire head snaps to the side with a sickening sound, as he immediately crumbles against the nearby ring ropes! TNT slowly positions himself next to Z once more, this time driving the solid side of the shaft into the forehead of the dazed Z! A spurt of blood launches itself from Z’s cratered skull, as he immediately collapses to the mat! Danny approaches Thompson from behind, tapping him on the shoulder…

 

Stevens: “And here comes Danny to save the day!”

Riley: “No Danny! Don’t ruin such a perfect moment!”

 

TNT twirls around in an aggressive manner, but is met with an outreached hand of friendship, as Thompson agrees, clasping Danny’s hand into his!

 

Stevens: “Oh no!”

Riley: “Yeah! Go baseball bat, go baseball bat, it’s your birthday, it’s your birthday!”

Stevens: “With one handshake, this former mentor and student team has temporarily reunited!”

 

Taylor directs Danny in his pain dispensing ways, as he drops a few elbows into the neck of Z to weaken him a bit, and then yanks him up to his feet, the stumbling Z uses the ropes as crutches. Danny grasps Z’s neck within his clutches once more, pretzling his arms in strange and awkward angles until he finally eases him into a cobra clutch! Z yelps out in pain, screaming at the uncontrollable anguish in which has been bestowed upon him, as TNT reels backwards with the bat! Thompson thrusts the aluminum beam forward, but Z leans over, ducking its path of destruction!

 

*** CRACK ***

 

The bat fissures Danny’s skull with sickening results, as Danny instantly acquires a crimson mask! Danny, though still somehow managing to hold onto Z with the neck-destroying clutch, turns to shambles, as Z, who also has little energy [or blood for that matter] left in his body, uses the ropes as stepping stones, running up them and spring boarding off, completing an entire flip! Z lands on top of Danny, as the now recovering referee crawls over to the massacre, and makes the count, TNT on looking in horror!

 

Riley: “What the hell just happened!?”

Stevens: “In an Austin-Hart chain of events, Z has reversed a cobra clutch into a pinning predicament! This is usually meant to force the opponent to break the hold, but with TNT’s blunderous shot to Danny’s head with that baseball bat, I don’t think Williams is even alive enough to let go!”

 

Kivell: “One!”

 

…

 

Riley: “Not this way!”

Kivell: “Two!”

 

…

 

Riley: “No!”

Kivell: “Three!”

Stevens: “And it’s down to TNT and Z!”

 

Kivell gradually slides the corpse of Deathwish off of the mat, and down to the protective mats of the outside area, as the drop from the apron to the mats feels like a sheer 5 story drop to Danny, who winces in pain upon impact.

 

Stevens: “TNT seems to have tossed away the baseball bat, apparently confident that he doesn’t need it anymore.”

Riley: “That’s right, he’s got this match in a bag and a half!”

 

Thompson paces around the fallen and bloodied Z, who rolls on the mat clawing at his neck, leaving a trail of blood as he does so. Z begins to stand to his knees, but Thompson assists him all the way up, and over is shoulder as he uses his arm as a momentous force in order to heave him onto his shoulders with a fireman carry! Thompson twists his waist right and left, gaining some meaningful vigor, and then propelling his lower body forward on one twist, releasing Z’s legs and dropping him into a viscous Diamond Cutter!

 

Riley: “A move more beautiful than Carmen Electra without pant…”

Stevens: “I hate to cut you off but TNT has made the cover! Will it be enough?”

Kivell: “One!”

 

…

 

Kivell: “Two!”

 

…

 

Kivell: “Thr…”

 

Z lifts his arm off of the mat in an act of desperation, only to have it pressed back down by TNT!

 

Kivell: “One!

 

…

 

Kivell: “Two!”

 

Z once again kicks out, as Thompson quickly kips up to his feet, letting out a scream of rage and disappointment. Now moving at a much quicker and more deliberate pace, Thompson circles Z a single time, again bringing him up to his feet by the collar of his camouflage garb. Thompson locks his broad arm around the back of Z’s cranium with a front face lock, and tightens his fingers around his cargo pant. Thompson hauls Z above his head in a vertical position, looking for a brainbuster!

 

Stevens: “TNT is looking to put away Z once and for all with a stalling brainbuster!”

 

TNT prepares to make the sheer drop of doom, but Z falls back to his feet, and with the tide in his favor for a mere instant, flips Thompson over his head with a swift snap suplex! Taylor hits the mat with a thud, but immediately is up on his feet once more. Z is prepared for this however, as with one last ditch attempt at the big “Y,” he uses his slight limberness to shove his foot into the jaw of TNT with a superkick!

 

Stevens: “And Z floors the dynamite warrior with the his old special, the Blizzard of Oz!”

Riley: “No!”

Stevens: “It came out of nowhere! And now, Z’s making the cover! Will it be enough?”

Kivell: “One!”

 

…

 

…

 

…

 

Kivell: “Two!”

 

…

 

…

 

…

 

Kivell: “Three!”

Wilson: “NO! HE GOT HIS FOOT UNDER THE BOTTOM ROPE JUST IN TIME!”

Riley: “Smart thinking too. Why waste ALL that energy to lift a shoulder off of the mat when a perfectly good rope is right there?”

 

Z steps away from the still unconscious TNT, pondering his next move, a smile widens across under his nose, as he showingly points upward, sending the crowd into a frenzy! Z slowly scales the ring post, buckle by buckle, until he finally reaches the summit. Z smiles…

 

Riley: “Aw fuck it.”

Stevens: “Could it be?”

Riley: “Oh don’t rub it in.”

Stevens: “I think it is! Z is going to go for his most powerful finisher, the SHOTGUN MOONSAULT!”

Riley: “But wait! King Taylor is on his feet!”

 

Just as Bobby inquired, Thompson positions himself into an erect position, grabbing a single top rope and with a crazed look in his eye, shaking it! Z wobbles a bit, but does not fall, as he bends down, grabbing the base of the turnbuckle. Continuing his rampage of shaking, TNT methodically eases his way to the anxious Z, and also begins to ascend the post!

 

Stevens: “Both men are at the top rope!”

 

Z, barely acquiring the little balance that he possesses, kicks TNT in the stomach with a sharp punt, causing Thompson to lean over in anguish! Z hooks his arms…

 

Riley: “Oh no.”

Stevens: “Could it be? A top rope Jersey Turnpike?”

Riley: “No! TNT struggles out of it! What’s this? TNT has grabbed Z by the waste and has completely flipped him over…”

 

Thompson, facing outward to the audience, holds Z, who is upside down, his head buried in Thompson’s crotch area…ewe…that sounded a little gross…um…his head parallel to TNT’s pelvic region…no, that’s sick too…awe he’s setting him up for a top rope tombstone.

 

Riley: “Bwhahahahahahahaha!!!!!!!!”

 

TNT, still in this position, springs from the ropes, completing a complete 180-degree turn in mid-air, and planting Z’s skull into the mat with a super-tombstone piledriver! TNT grasps at his pained knees, as they hit the ground with much force, as Z falls into a lifeless pile of skin, bones, and a shirt with a smiley face on it. TNT smiles, letting out a “KABOOM!” as the fans hurl cans of beer into the ring. He drapes a single arm over Z, making the cover…

 

Kivell: “One!”

Stevens: “It’s all over!”

Bobby: “Victory is mine!”

Stevens: “No, it’s TNT’s.”

Bobby: “Oh he idolizes me and you know it.”

 

…

 

…

 

…

 

Kivell: “Two!”

 

…

 

…

 

…

 

Kivell: “Three…NO!”

Riley: “WHAT!?!?!?!?!”

Stevens: “Z kicked out! But how? How much suffering can one man take!?”

 

TNT hops up to his feet, screaming and verbally berating the referee, who is insistent on his decision. TNT flips off the referee, and backs him into a corner as Z regains consciousness…

 

Riley: “TNT! Look behind you!”

Stevens: “Another Blizzard of Oz?”

 

Z lurches forward with his right foot extended high into the air, just as his opponent turns around.

 

*** SNAP ***

 

Wait…sorry…wrong noise.

 

*** WHIFF ***

 

Z’s foot cuts through the air, narrowly missing by TNT. The Z-ster follows all the way through, but has no one to become the fodder of this last attempt of desperation, completing the kick, ending up staring in the other direction of TNT! Both men stand in utter confusion for a tick or two, but TNT quickly improvises, hopping onto the back of Z! Thompson hooks both of Z’s arms around his bent knees, and wraps his two arms over the helpless and bloodied mug of the one letter wonder…

 

Stevens: “It’s Short Fuse! Short Fuse! The Camel Clutch that TNT calls the Short Fuse! After all of the punishment Z’s neck has taken, he HAS to tap!”

 

TNT cinches up on the hold as Z screams for mercy.

 

Kivell: “Z! Do you quit!?”

Z: “Bah! NEVER!!!!”

TNT: “Ask him!”

Kivell: “ I did!”

 

TNT sighs, and leans all the way back, bending Z’s entire spinal cord which runs throughout his neck and back to almost cartoonish levels in their extremity!

 

TNT: “Ask him again!”

Kivell: “Do you quit?”

 

Taylor bends backwards one more time, while though leaving his back relatively unharmed, almost completely snapping his neck!

 

Z: “YES!!!! I QUITE!!!! AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

 

*** DING DING DING ***

 

Stevens: “Z has submitted! After surviving so much, he finally realized that he realistically couldn’t go one any longer!”

Riley: “Wooh! Pool party at my house! Bring your Speedos!”

Stevens: “Wait, what?”

Riley: “Um, I mean, bring chicks…yeah…chicks.”

Stevens: “Um…whatever. Well, this has been a truly explosive bout, with TNT, through some blood, sweat, and baseball bats, coming out as the winner!”

Riley: “I believe there’s a bright future ahead of this young man!”

Stevens: “As well as the other three men involved into tonight’s bout.”

Riley: “No, no. Just TNT.”

Stevens: “So, we’ll be right back, with more action, including our main event, as Edwin MacPhisto defends his World Title against Chris Wilson!”

Riley: “The volleyball from Castaway?”

Stevens: “Ugh. And remember, tonight’s SWF event is brought to you by ‘Speed 3: Distress at the Drag Queen Derby!”

 

AC/DC’s “TNT starts up as boos fill the arena to the brim. TNT taunts to the crowd a bit, his body with hints of weariness showing, as Z’s chiropractor rushes into the ring and begins massaging his injured neck.

[Guest BA_Baracus]

"Ace of Spades" by Motorhead blares in the background as the camera pans the Mellon Arena in Pittsburgh. The fans go absolutely crazy, many wearing their commemorative Snake Eyes 2002 t-shirts, as the SmarkTron flashes the US Title logo. A triangle appears on the Tron, with photos of Durandal, Chris Raynor and Jay Dawg at each corner and the US Title underneath Raynor's. With that, a blast of pyro explodes from each corner of the stage, and the camera pans back to the announce table. Grand Slam Mark Stevens, looking dapper in his tuxedo and bat-and-ball-print cummerbund, sits next to Bobby Riley, adorned in a powder-blue, ruffled tuxedo.

 

"Welcome back to Snake Eyes!" Stevens looks extremely pleased. "We've seen a lot of exciting action tonight, including an intense Title On A Pole match for the Light Heavyweight Title and a Fatal Four-Way to determine the number-one contender to the United States Championship! We've been treated to a lot of action already-"

 

"Say, Mark... Why don't you tell the folks at home who WON those matches?"

 

Stevens looks at the camera, eyes wide, and gulps.

 

"Well... Bobby... er... I wouldn't want to... SPOIL it for the people who tuned in halfway through." Steven clears his throat, then mutters, "Yes, that'll do."

 

A grin spreads across Riley's face. "But this is a pay-per-view. They're paying... what... about $24.95 for this? Why would they only watch half of it?"

 

"I wouldn't want to insult the viewers' intelligence by recapping what they obviously just saw." Stevens takes off his glasses and begins to clean them nervously. "I mean, it's not like we're some text-based e-fed with college students writing for us, or something. We're the SWF!" The crowd pops into a chant of "S - DUB - F! S - DUB - F!" Stevens subtly wipes his brow and lets out a quiet sigh of relief as Riley sighs, "Curses. Foiled again."

 

"In any event," continues Stevens, "we're about to see a match to determine the rightful United States Champion. All three of these men have laid claim to the title recently, with Jay Dawg being stripped..."

 

"After suffering a LEGITIMATE injury..."

 

"Thanks. Jay Dawg was stripped of the title, and young Durandal won a triple threat match to become the new champion. Then, just over a week ago on Storm, America's favorite Caveman, Chris Raynor, defeated Durandal cleanly to bring the belt into the Midnight Carnival's possession! Raynor, you may remember, was Jay Dawg's challenger in the two matches that were postponed due to Jay's... AHEM... injury."

 

"Are you trying to imply something?"

 

"No, I'll come right out and say it. I think he was bullshitting. But Jay Dawg is one hell of a competitor, as are Raynor and Durandal. This is going to be a great match, and that, my friends, is a damn promise!"

 

Funyon enters the ring, clad in a blue sequined suit that somehow manages to look good on him. Bringing the mic to his lips, he announces, "The following contest is a triple threat match, with the first wrestler to score a win taking home the SWF United States Championship!"

 

Suddenly, fireworks explode all over the arena and entryway. The lights go down, and for a moment, nothing happens...

 

pausing...

 

 

waiting....

 

 

 

anticipating.....

 

 

 

 

"THIS IS MAH HOUSE!!!!!!!"

 

The sound bite echoes through the arena, and the crowd begins to boo as the beat from Rammstein's "Du Hast" tears out of the speakers. Periodically, "THIS IS MAH HOUSE!!!" is repeated, and finally, the curtain parts and Jay Dawg steps through. He looks up, surveying the arena, and then lowers his head again. A sadistic smile creeps across his face.

 

"Look at the look on Jay Dawg's face," intones Stevens. "This is a man that, by all right, shouldn't be walking around on the outside. He's dangerous... and frankly, he gives me the creeps."

 

"He's just here to do what he does best. Jamie Drazon is here to hurt people."

 

Jay Dawg walks purposefully to the ring, "Du Hast" and "THIS IS MAH HOUSE!!!" setting the backdrop, and then enters. He places his hands on his thighs and cracks his neck from side to side as Funyon announces, "The first competitor... from Vancouver, British Columbia, and weighing in at 250 pounds... one sadistic son of a bitch, exercising Creative Control on ALL your asses... JAMIE 'JAY DAWG' DRAZON!"

 

The Pittsburgh fans burst into a quick chant of "JAY DAWG SUCKS! JAY DAWG SUCKS!" before the lights go down again. The intro to "Darkest Days" by Stabbing Westward starts to ring out through the arena, and instantly the fans' chant turns to a chorus of boos. The SmarkTron goes white, and on it, the words "SO SAYS THE CLAN" throb and pulsate in a black Gothic font. As the music continues, the fans turn toward the curtain, awaiting Durandal's entrance.... but nothing.

 

Funyon looks a bit confused, but announces anyway, hoping to bring Durandal out. "His opponent... from Buffalo, New York, and weighing in at 213 pounds... So says the Clan, so says DURANDAL!" Still nothing. Jay Dawg cracks his neck again in the ring, but even after waiting for almost two full minutes, Durandal still doesn't emerge from the curtain.

 

At the table, Stevens kicks into road agent mode and momentarily forgets that he's announcing. "Who the hell's in the Gorilla?" he asks. "I don't give a damn if it's Flink! I don't care how incompetent he is, he needs to be on top of things!" Pause. "He hasn't even SEEN him? Damn it. Just cut the music."

 

Riley pokes Stevens.

 

"WHAT?"

 

"Ay-kay abe-fay!"

 

Thinking quickly, Stevens says, "And for the latest on Durandal's disappearance, call the SWF Hotline at 1-600-CALL-SWF! Only $2.99 for the first minute and 99 cents for every minute after! Kids, get parents' permission!"

 

"Or ask that homeless guy outside!"

 

A murmur buzzes through the arena as the fans, clearly confused, discuss what just happened. They're caught by surprise, though, when the lights go down and "Electra Made Me Blind" by Everclear starts playing. With the lights blinking all around the stage, the fans get worked up into a frenzy, joining Art Alexakis as he screams, "YEAH!" At that moment, blue pyro explodes around the stage, the lights come up and Chris Raynor emerges from backstage wearing the SWF US Title. He pauses on the stage as the fans shower him with cheers. He pulls off his Midnight Carnival jersey and teases at throwing it to his right... cheers. Then to his left... more cheers. Finally he just whips it into the biggest section he can find, prompting an even bigger pop from the crowd.

 

Funyon, much more at ease, introduces Raynor. "And his opponent, from Baton Rouge, Louisiana... weighing in at 250 pounds... representing the Midnight Carnival, Everyone's favorite caveman AH GAR-ON-TEE, CHRIS RAYNOR!"

 

The crowd bursts into a "SMASH! SMASH!" chant as Raynor runs full speed to the ring and slides in under the bottom rope, then mounts the nearest turnbuckle and salutes his legions of fans. He holds the belt high in the air, finally climbing down and handing the belt over to official Eddy Long as the music fades out.

 

Long holds the belt high in the air, and then hands it off over the top rope as the two competitors warm up and make their way to the center of the ring. Referee Eddy Long moves to signal for the bell.

 

DING DING-

 

 

Wait a second!

 

Long is interrupted by the fanfare of "Tell All The People" by The Doors! A bright white X of pyro sprays out across the entryway, and a moment later...

 

 

"THE SUPERIOR ONE" EMERGES!

 

 

Holding a microphone, he steps through the curtain wearing cargo jeans and an Ego Buster t-shirt, surveys the crowd, and then drops to his knees with his arms out, grinning stupidly. The fans instinctively, viscerally boo him, and... yet... somehow, Tom Flesher looks to be at peace. The music fades out, and Flesher comes back up out of his pose.

 

"Hello, Pittsburgh!"

 

The fans continue to boo.

 

"I'm back, I'm ready to bring some gold back to the Clan!"

 

More booing.

 

"God, it's so great to be back! You have no idea how much I missed each and every one of you!"

 

Pause.

 

"Actually... you do! I know how much you all love me, and how much you missed me... and always remember, I love you as much as you love me! Maybe more!"

 

The fans boo Flesher as he drops his microphone and begins to strut to the ring. Jay Dawg murmurs, "What tha fuck?" as Raynor simply scoffs, giving the impression that he's thinking, "Right. Like changing your t-shirt is gonna beat me."

 

With that, JD jumps through the ropes, then charges up the ramp and tackles Flesher! Shocked, Long just signals for the bell.

 

 

DING DING DING!!!!

 

 

JD mounts Flesher and starts raining down a series of punches. Flesher gets his guard up and manages to deflect most of them, fighting back as best he can with palm strikes. Finally, JD slams him with a particularly hard right hand, and, saying "You think you can take my belt? What?!" grabs Flesher and drags him back to the ring. He throws him in, then slides into the ring under the bottom rope.

 

"Look at this!" declares Stevens, still a little stunned by the sudden appearance of The Superior One. "Jay Dawg is unbelievably angry at Dur... Flesher. He's been talking in the back about how Flesher never really won the title, but who expected him to take it out like this?"

 

"Um... Mark? It's Jay Dawg."

 

"True."

 

Raynor immediately comes over and starts to stomp Flesher. However, as soon as Jay Dawg gets into the ring, he stalks over to Raynor and shoves him backwards. "What the hell are you doing? I beat him down, I get to pin him! What tha fuck? It's not your belt, bitch, it's mine!" Raynor stands his ground despite the 2-inch height discrepancy, shoving Jay back as Flesher rolls away to the corner.

 

Jay Dawg and Chris Raynor lock up in the center of the ring. Raynor takes control, whipping JD to the ropes. Jay rebounds, stops in his tracks just in front of Raynor and nails him with a stiff right hand to the jaw! The crowd winces collectively as Raynor reaches up to grab his jaw. As soon as he does, Jay Dawg steps in and takes Raynor to the mat with a hiptoss. The No-Selling Bastard keeps hold of Raynor's arm and falls into a crucifix armbar! Raynor, panicking, reaches for the ropes, but he's too far back! He reaches again, but still can't reach the ropes. Raynor pulls himself over... once, twice... and finally grabs the bottom rope! Eddy Long counts, "ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR!" and Jay Dawg breaks the hold, backing into the center and looking absolutely destructive.

 

"Jay Dawg's mad as hell," says Mark Stevens. "He's still mad about being stripped of the US Title, and he's taking it out on Raynor!"

 

"Well," asks Riley, "wouldn't you be mad? He's got two total pretenders in the ring, and here's his chance to show them where they went wrong!"

 

"You have to wonder, though... is JD doing the right thing by working Raynor's arm this early in the match? He's a smart man, despite all indications that point otherwise. I'm surprised he's not letting Tom Flesher help work Raynor's leg, setting him up for the... what's that called?"

 

"The Hell Busting Knee Trap!"

 

"He's injured more than one worker with that crucifix kneebar, and I wouldn't be surprised to see him break it out tonight."

 

Raynor locks back up with Jay Dawg, who quickly takes control of the situation by grabbing Raynor's left arm and spinning around, jerking Raynor's arm over his shoulder in a series of armwringers. After five or six thrusts, Drazon completes the motion by yanking Raynor's arm and bringing him over in a judo-style shoulder throw. Raynor hits the mat and winces, clearly favoring his tender left arm. Jay Dawg tries to follow him down into a Fujiwara armbar, but before he can, he gets caught from behind by a dropkick to the knee from Tom Flesher! JD collapses to the mat, more out of surprise than anything else, as the Superior One grabs his left leg and torques it into an ankle lock. "Flesher's going straight for the submission!" declares Stevens as Tom tries to work the ankle... only to be booted stiffly in the head.

 

Flesher staggers backwards as JD spins around to face him, then swiftly brings him to the mat with a Dragon Screw leg whip. Holding the leg, Drazon starts to twist it with a spinning toe hold. "THERE'S the leg work!" interjects Riley. JD spins through with a series of spinning toe holds, usually used to set up the whiplash powerbomb, but as he spins through on the third rotation, Flesher reaches up, grabs his head and rolls him through into a small package for

 

ONE!

 

 

KICKOUT by Jay Dawg, and he's pissed!

 

Flesher stands back up and faces off with JD, then takes advantage of the Dawg's moment of anger by performing an amateur-style duck-under and coming out behind his opponent. Flesher locks his hands around Drazon's waist and attempts a German suplex, but Drazon hits a standing switch and spins around backwards, then locks his hands and just launches Flesher backwards with a released German suplex! Stevens says, "Oh my God!" as the 213-pound Flesher lands hard on the back of his neck, then rolls backwards and flattens on his stomach. The crowd, in spite of their sheer hatred for Creative Control, pops for the suplex like a champagne cork on New Year's.

 

"Tom Flesher's getting a taste of his own medicine," says Mark Stevens, "as Jay Dawg throws him around like a rag doll!"

 

"Oh, it's just ring rust. It'll wear off."

 

"Ring rust...?" Stevens is clearly confused.

 

"Of course! It's Tom Flesher's first match back in over a month!"

 

"Sometimes, Bobby, just the sight of you makes me wish I'd taken that baseball scholarship."

 

JD is just about to descend on Flesher when Raynor confronts him. The two stare down for a moment...

 

until...

 

Raynor backs away, throws a fist up into the air, and shouts "SMAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAASH!!!!!!!!!!"

 

The crowd, simply put, explodes!

 

They burst into a chant of "SMASH! SMASH! SMASH!" as Raynor throws a solid right hand at Jay Dawg. Jay Dawg responds in kind, and they start throwing flurries of punches. Raynor lands a particularly hard punch that staggers JD, to which Stevens mutters, "Might have potatoed him there." Raynor takes advantage of the moment's misstep by booting Drazon in the stomach, locking up a gutwrench and hitting a picture-perfect tiltawhirl backbreaker! He throws Jay Dawg to the mat and covers him for

 

ONE

 

 

KICKOUT! "There's no way Jay Dawg's going to stay down!" shouts Bobby Riley. "He's too tough to get pinned by a damn backbreaker!"

 

"Raynor's incredibly strong, though," replies Stevens. "AND... he's a Carnie."

 

Raynor grabs JD by the arm and whips him into the corner, then falls into a crouching stance. Jay Dawg hits the corner and bounces out, and as soon as he does, Raynor explodes out of his crouch and lets loose with a huge spear! Jay Dawg, seeing it coming, drops flat to the mat to get out of the way, and Raynor propels himself through the turnbuckles and hits the steel cornerpost, shoulder-first! "He may have caught that left arm again," says Stevens. "It's getting tougher for Chris by the minute."

 

JD gets to his feet and waits patiently for Raynor to extract himself from the corner. Meanwhile, Tom Flesher sits in the adjacent corner, watching patiently and rubbing his neck every now and then. When Raynor pulls himself out of the corner, Drazon is waiting for him, and as he turns around, Jay Dawg nails him with the...

 

"SWEET TOOTH LOOSENING!!!!!!" Bobby Riley nearly pees himself. "SWEET TOOTH LOOSENING! Raynor's out cold!" Raynor staggers backwards and lands in the corner in a seated position. Seeing an opportunity, Flesher gets to his feet and struts over to the corner. Jay Dawg sees him coming over and just stares at him. Flesher casually moves JD out of the way and starts to rear back for a boot to Raynor's face, but JD stops him by shoving him backwards. JD stares at him angrily. Stevens notes, "Jay Dawg is once again unbelievably pissed at the sack that it takes for Flesher to just... just arrogantly shove him out of the way! I have to say, I'd be mad too!"

 

"Why? Flesher's clearly the better wrestler."

 

Drazon nails Flesher with a stiff shot to the face, and Flesher staggers backwards into the ropes.

 

"What makes you say that, Bobby?"

 

JD then sweeps Flesher's legs out from under him, knocking him to the mat.

 

"Well, he's superior!"

 

Jay Dawg grabs Flesher's leg and drags him to the center of the ring, then stomps his knee. Flesher recoils, favoring the knee, but Drazon pulls it back out and stomps it again. Flesher once again pulls the leg back in and tries to protect it, but once again, Jay Dawg reaches in and pulls the leg back out... but Flesher grabs hold of Jay Dawg's left arm and wraps his legs around his shoulder and head, cinching on a triangle choke! He locks the scissors grip as tight as he can, and for a brief moment, Jay Dawg panics. He tries to pull himself back out of the hold, which is, as Stevens points out, "the worst thing you can do! Flesher used this move all the time in the SJL, and pulling backwards is exactly what he wants you to do... but it's what your first instinct is! Pulling out actually TIGHTENS the grip."

 

Riley giggles to himself.

 

Stevens, annoyed, reprimands him. "Oh, would you grow up?!"

 

"Oh? And what, pray tell, am I giggling about?"

 

Stevens quickly swivels to face the camera, then says, "To find out what Bobby Riley was giggling about, call the SWF Hotline at 1-600-CALL-SWF! Only $2.99 for the first minute, and 99 cents for each additional minute! Kids, get your parents' permission!"

 

"Always one step ahead," Riley sighs dejectedly.

 

After a moment, though, Jay Dawg stops trying to pull out of the hold and instead forces his weight forward. In doing so, he loosens the scissors grip and also forces some of Flesher's weight onto his shoulders. Eddy Long sees a possible fall and counts

 

ONE

 

 

TWO

 

 

 

TH- NO! Flesher breaks the hold and rolls away! "It looks," says Stevens, "like Flesher's initial game plan has been shot to pieces. He's not going to be able to psyche Jay Dawg out, and he's not going to be able to make him submit. JD's just too strong and talented for that. I think it's time for Flesher to punt!"

 

"Punt?! That's not a very sound analogy! Why don't you say 'bunt' or 'go for the suicide squeeze' or something?"

 

"Listen, don't give ME advice on how to stay in character. It's bad enough that sometimes I say things I NEVER would. It's like I'm being puppeted by some college student with a bad sense of humor."

 

"I KNOW! And... I mean, *I* know I'm not gay, but some of the things I say... yeesh!"

 

Flesher gets to his feet and squares off, staring Jay Dawg down. Stepping up aggressively, despite being 35 pounds lighter and nearly half a foot shorter, Flesher throws a stiff palm thrust that catches Jay Dawg in the jaw. Jay steps backwards, but then strikes Flesher with a staggering right hand before whipping him to the ropes. JD falls to the mat and catches Tom with a drop toehold, then works that into a Fujiwara armbar right in the middle of the ring! Raynor, taking a breather on the outside, is still too stunned and injured to reenter the ring, so, in Steven's words, "This looks like the untimely end of Flesher!"

 

Jay Dawg twists Flesher's left arm, leaning down on it and trying to separate it from the shoulder socket. Flesher tries to stand straight up, but falls back to the mat as JD reworks the hold and increases the pressure. JD even leans over and, with his free arm, slaps Flesher dismissively upside the head. The crowd breaks out with an "Ohhhhhhhhhh" as the SmarkTron shows a closeup of Flesher's face, the expression showing anger and disgust. He tries to spin out and reverse the armbar... doesn't work. He tries to limp-arm out... nothing. He tries to roll to his back to release the pressure... no dice. JD just continues working the arm, screaming, "TAP, MOFUCKA, TAP!"

 

Finally, Flesher spins out to the front and, as quickly as he can, strikes Jay Dawg with an incredibly stiff shotei to the nose! Drazon immediately recoils, and Flesher, despite slightly favoring his left arm, follows it up with another palm strike to the head. He crouches down and, showing great speed, nails JD in the jaw with a supersolid superkick! Jay staggers backwards, falling into the corner, and with that, Flesher charges in to nail him with a Yakuza kick that makes him collapse into a seated position.

 

"I think we all know what's coming here!" declares Riley, clearly excited for Flesher. Stevens just sighs, clearly not a big fan of this spot.

 

Flesher lifts his right leg up and, with a great deal of force but even more arrogance, thrusts the Doc Marten forward and scrapes the bouncing sole across Jay Dawg's face. The fans burst into a mixture of cheers for the Creative Control bastard getting what's coming for him and boos for Flesher being such an egotistical prick extraordinaire. Flesher grabs the top rope, swings himself backwards, and scrapes his boot across Drazon's face again. Finally, he swings back and nails a third boot scrape, then leaves himself hanging in the ropes and starts a golf clap for himself.

 

"Look at the sheer conceit! The arrogance on his face!" Stevens is appalled. "And that golf clap! My god, could he be any more egotistical?"

 

"Oh, sure he could! He could make all his stablemates use his finisher after he retires."

 

Agitated, Stevens removes his glasses and begins to clean them. Flesher pulls himself out of the ropes and goes to the center of the ring, playing to the booing crowd as if they were marking out like little kids for him. Jay Dawg rolls out of the ring, too angry and embarrassed to continue, and Flesher just waves at the crowd and raises the roof over and over and over again. "Man," says Stevens, "if that taunt wasn't already dead, Flesher just killed it."

 

With that, Raynor reenters the ring, and the fans burst into cheers. Flesher mounts the top rope and plays to the cheers, assuming they're for him. "Delusional," mutters Grand Slam, "simply delusional." Raynor sneaks up behind Flesher, and, as he gets closer, crouches down. The fans go completely silent, knowing what's coming up next. Flesher, with his back turned, is completely unable to see Raynor come up out of his crouch, and before he knows it,

 

 

WHAM!!!!!!!!

 

 

Raynor nails him from behind with a vicious spear! Flesher screams out loud when Raynor connects, wincing with a look of intense pain on his face, and falling backwards when Raynor backs away. As Tom gets back to his feet, the junior Carnie grabs him by the wrist and whips him into the corner. Then, shouting, "SMAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAASH!!!!!!", he charges in and mounts the turnbuckles, raising his fist into the air!

 

He connects, and the fans count...

 

ONE! "SMASH!"

 

TWO! "SMASH!"

 

THREE! "SMASH!"

 

FOUR! "SMASH!"

 

FIVE! "SMASH!"

 

SIX! "SMASH!"

 

SEVEN! "SMASH!"

 

EIGHT! "SMASH!"

 

NINE! "SMASH!"

 

TEN! "SMASH!"

 

Raynor backs away, and Flesher staggers forward, flopping pathetically onto his stomach. Raynor turns him over onto his back and then mounts the turnbuckle. Raising his arms in the air, he jumps off, then lands hard on Flesher with a flying elbowSMASH!!!!!! Raynor covers Flesher for

 

ONE

 

 

TWO

 

 

 

THR- KICKOUT!!!! Flesher breaks the pin and rolls to his stomach. Raynor immediately grabs him around the waist and lifts him up in a gutwrench grip, but Tom curls himself around Raynor's leg and grabs onto his ankle. With one quick motion, Flesher frees himself, yanks the ankle out and drops down into an STF right in the center of the ring!

 

"You know," Riley says, "'STF' could stand for 'Superior Tom Flesher.'"

 

"Or it could be 'stepover toehold facelock.'"

 

"Maybe it's 'Stevens: a True Flake.'"

 

Flesher cinches the crossface and tries to work for the submission. Raynor pulls himself toward the ropes, but with only one arm and one leg, he can't move nearly fast enough to fight the pain! With each passing moment, Raynor tries to pull himself closer to the ropes, but the pain on his face is evident! "Raynor is really hurting," says Grand Slam. "He wasn't prepared at all to get caught with that STF!" Raynor tries once more to move toward the ropes, but Flesher uses his considerable lack of height to his advantage as he pulls the STF even tighter! "Raynor may be done!" Stevens is clearly distraught, a Carnie for life despite his duties as an announcer, and the fans are just as upset at the thought of Flesher winning the title by making the unsinkable Raynor submit...

 

when Jay Dawg slides into the ring and begins battering Flesher! Still mad as hell about the sheer disrespect shown to him in the corner, Jay Dawg returns to the match by breaking a hold that would, in all likelihood, have won the US Title for Tom Flesher! As soon as JD hammers Flesher in the back with a double axehandle, Raynor wriggles out of the hold and rolls away. Drazon continues hammering Flesher, blindsiding him and then trying to literally beat him into the ground! "My god, look at the veins on his forehead! Jay Dawg is going to kill someone!" Stevens, clearly, knows Jay Dawg much better than Flesher, who spins around and throws a wild left-handed palm strike that the Canadian fighter intercepts and twists into an armbar. From there, he attempts to follow it through into a crucifix armbar, but Flesher manages to thrust his elbow into Jay Dawg's groin to break the hold. Referee Eddy Long interjects himself into the fray and shoves Flesher backwards, admonishing him for his lack of sportsmanship and incidentally breaking the two combatants up.

 

"Why... that's exactly what Flesher wanted! Eddy Long is playing right into Flesher's hand," growls Stevens.

 

"Is it HIS fault he's that much smarter than everyone else?"

 

"Bobby, he's really just..."

 

"Superior. I know. And if you don't believe me, go ahead and ask him!"

 

Once he's finished reprimanding Flesher, Long steps out of the way and allows Flesher to lock back up with Jay Dawg. Drazon goes for a belly to belly suplex, but Flesher counters it on the way up with a stiff and unexpected palm strike that sets his opponent off balance. With that, he shifts his weight and falls forward, catching Jay Dawg on his back. JD lands flat but manages to roll out before Long can even get a one-count. Flesher stays on top, though, and locks his hands around the Vancouver native's waist. He drops down and tries to lift his adversary up for a German suplex, but JD stays flat on the mat! "Drazon's mixed martial arts background is serving him well here," notes Stevens. "He's holding the mat and not giving Flesher any openings." At that very moment, Flesher dives forward and drives his head into the back of Jay Dawg's neck, stunning him and drawing a "Hm... well then" from Stevens. Taking advantage of the moment, Flesher lifts JD up and throws him backwards in a released German suplex. "Flesher got considerably less amplitude on that throw than Jay Dawg got earlier," says Stevens. "Chalk it up to both Jay Dawg's strength advantage and Flesher's fatigue."

 

"Strength advantage, bullshit. Flesher dumped Jay Dawg on his neck, and it doesn't matter how high up he was before he landed. This one's over."

 

Flesher grabs Jay Dawg and rolls him onto his back, laying across him nonchalantly and breaking into a huge grin as Eddy Long counts

 

ONE

 

 

TWO

 

 

 

THR- NO! Jay Dawg kicks out with just a fraction of a second to spare! "That cover may have been a bit too cocky, too lazy," notes Grand Slam. "Flesher should know better than to try to take an experienced veteran like Jay Dawg out without even hooking the leg."

 

"I told you, Mark. He's just a little rusty."

 

"Oh, shut up."

 

Jay Dawg, brains a little scrambled, is a little slow getting up, and Flesher takes advantage of that by booting him in the chest cockily before he yanks him back to his feet. The two workers grapple briefly before Flesher makes the first move and shoots a double leg takedown, putting Jay Dawg on his back and starting to step through into a Boston crab. Jay Dawg, though, puts up a fight and won't turn over. Flesher tries to step over again... nothing. Once more, and Jay Dawg still won't relent. Flesher releases tha Dawg's legs and drops to his knees, then winds up and slaps Jay Dawg crisply across the face! JD's eyes grow wide with anger as Flesher looks at him calmly and says, "You're only making this harder on yourself. Now stay down and I won't embarrass you any further."

 

"Did you HEAR that?!" Stevens is livid! "Did you hear what he just said to Jay Dawg? He just told him to stay down for his own good! What arrogance!"

 

"What concern for mankind! What a benevolent creature Tom Flesher is! His love for Jay Dawg and all the other little people is unmatched."

 

"You disgust me, Bobby Riley. You and the rainbow window sticker on your car disgust me."

 

Unfazed by Flesher's conceit, Jay Dawg reaches up and smashes him in the face with a rock-hard right hand. Flesher falls backwards, and with a bit more space, JD follows that up with a flat kick to the face that puts Flesher on his back. Jay Dawg gets to his feet and shakes off the cobwebs for a moment before he descends on Flesher, taking a chance for an easy pin. Eddy Long counts

 

ONE

 

 

TWO

 

 

 

THR- NO!!!!!! Chris Raynor breaks the pin with an elbow off the turnbuckle! Jay Dawg rolls off Flesher, grabbing his back, and Raynor throws Flesher out of the ring. Flesher hits the concrete and rolls out of the way as Jay Dawg and Raynor grapple. Raynor takes the upper hand with a few quick punches, then goes for a big boot. Jay Dawg ducks under the big boot, then grabs it and stands back up. He sends Raynor spilling to the mat, then quickly follows through into a spinning toe hold. JD sees his opponent getting ready to counter into a small package, and after getting caught by Flesher early on, decides to prevent it. He does so by dropping a knee into Raynor's stomach, knocking the wind out of the lanky Carnie. Looking satisfied, Drazon stands back up and continues with his spinning toe hold, rotating several times and torquing Raynor's leg beyond its normal limits. Finally, Jay Dawg rolls forward and pulls Raynor over with a whiplash powerbomb! The crowd bursts into a chorus of boos as JD follows it up with another knee drop.

 

"Drazon's moving in for the kill here," says Stevens as Jay Dawg moves in and kicks Raynor's arm arrogantly, serving no purpose but to cause Raynor further pain. Raynor winces, and JD grabs the sore left arm and yanks him back to his feet. Jay Dawg throws a stiff right hand at Raynor, staggering him, then knees the Carnie in the stomach to double him over. On the outside, Flesher leans on the apron, grinning idiotically up at JD as the aggressor crosses Raynor's arms across his neck and pulls them out, tightening the grip.

 

"HEY RAYNOR! Why you choking yourself?" Riley giggles. "WHY YOU CHOKING YOURSELF? God, I'm good."

 

Jay Dawg looks disgustedly at Flesher on the outside, then jumps into the air. In one fluid motion, he slams Raynor face-first into the mat Pedigree-style, with his crossed arms and then his torso following. Grand Slam shouts, "JD'S REVENGE!" as Raynor impacts the canvas, making a loud THUD. Jay Dawg immediately jumps right back up, though, and, staring at Flesher, dives into a baseball slide! He knocks Flesher backwards, staggering him, and immediately runs to the ropes. Drazon bounces off, then leaps over the top rope and comes flying at Flesher. Stevens, still worked up from the amazing sequence, yells, "Jay Dawg's trying to take Flesher out! He's going to nail him with the suicide dive and keep him on the floor!"

 

Riley retorts, "Yeah, but Flesher's gonna catch him."

 

Now really.

 

Jay Dawg floats over the top and falls toward Flesher, who, rather than simply pretend to catch him, ACTUALLY catches his adversary and throws him overhead in an improvised belly-to-belly suplex!

 

(Even when he catches on, Riley's not the sharpest tool in the shed.)

 

Jay Dawg hits the concrete hard. After a moment, Flesher gets back up and waits patiently for JD to stir, with Raynor barely alive in the ring. When he does, Flesher quickly descends on him and locks his hands around the Vancouver native's waist, then bridges backwards and spikes him on the concrete, neck-first, with a backdrop driver! Riley grabs he microphone and, at the top of his lungs, screams out, "BACKDROPPAH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

 

"Backdrop driver on the concrete! My god, Jay Dawg may be DEAD!" Stevens is clearly distraught, despite his hatred for Jamie Drazon and all of Creative Control. Jay Dawg lays motionless on the concrete floor, and The Superior One stares at him for a moment, nudging him with the toe of his Doc Marten boot... then has the audacity to start a golf clap for himself! The crowd showers him with boos, and Stevens, unable to articulate the sheer arrogance necessary for such a despicable act, sputters out fragmented beginnings of sentences.

 

Riley, meanwhile, applauds.

 

Grand Slam inquires, sarcastically, "Why don't you just buy a t-shirt?"

 

Riley's reply: "That Deathwish fucker burned them all."

 

"That was over three months ago in the SJL!"

 

"Hey, is it MY fault they haven't made any more? That we have a terrible work ethic? It's ingrained in the SWF! Hell, we even tape matches of both guys losing just in case one doesn't feel like working."

 

Stevens pauses, then asks, "How the hell does that help?"

 

"It just does, Mark. It just does."

 

Flesher snaps off a quick wave to the crowd, then re-enters the ring to find a groggy Chris Raynor leaning on the ropes. Flesher waits patiently in the center of the ring and, in his slightly stunned condition, Raynor acts against his common sense and staggers to the center to square off. There, he walks right into a super-stiff spinning palm strike that sends him reeling backwards! Riley shouts, "ROARING SHOTEI!!!!!" as Raynor hits the ropes, then regroups and stumbles forward. Nonchalantly, Flesher ducks behind Raynor and sets him up in position for a backdrop driver.

 

"He wouldn't!" Stevens is simply in disbelief. "He already hit Jay Dawg on the outside, and now he's going to slam Raynor on his neck! Flesher's simply lethal!" Riley just grins.

 

Flesher arches his back, but, at the height of the throw, instead of tossing Raynor backwards, he spins Raynor around the front and jumps into the air! Together, the two combatants slam into the canvas, Flesher sitting out and Raynor splattered flat on his back between the Superior One's legs.

 

"BLUE THUNDER BOMB! BLUE THUNDER BOMB!" Bobby Riley is clearly ecstatic. "Blue Thunder bomb by Tom Flesher!!!!!!!"

 

"Why are you so damn excited?"

 

"I put money on it!"

 

Tom looks to the side and sees Jay Dawg starting to get to his feet. He blows his adversary a sardonic kiss as Eddy Long drops down and counts

 

ONE

 

Jay Dawg's on the apron...

 

TWO

 

Is he going to make it in.......?

 

 

TWO AND A HALF

 

 

Maybe.........

 

 

 

 

 

THREE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Jay Dawg is too groggy to break the pin, so Eddy Long calls for the bell!

 

 

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

 

 

Funyon announces, "Your winner, and NEW SWF United States Champion... So says the Clan. So says the Superior One, TOM FLESHER!!!!!!!!!!!!"

 

The crowd bursts into a chorus of boos as "Tell All The People" begins to blare through the Mellon Arena. Long raises Flesher's hand and gives him the US Title belt. Flesher fastens it around his waist and turns around just in time to see Jay Dawg charging into the ring. He pauses just barely long enough to wave at the Creative Control member, then slides out of the ring, gives JD a quick throat-slit taunt, and runs back up the ramp as quickly as he can. Jay Dawg, meanwhile, is left with only the limp Chris Raynor to take out his anger on. JD boots Raynor in the ribs but, seeing that there's no challenge, just walks away looking frustrated.

 

"Flesher's taking home the US Title, bringing gold back to the Clan." Stevens still seems uncomfortable from the match; his concern for his fallen stablemate is evident in his voice. "A monumental match for Tom Flesher, marking the end of one era in his career and a return to his roots! Coming up next, we have Stryke defending the Hardcore Title against up-and-coming challenger Ash Ketchum."

 

"And even though that sucks," interjects Riley, "we'll also see a quad-threat match for the ICTV Title and Edwin MacPhisto laying down for Chris Wilson!"

 

"What makes you say that?!"

 

"Who WOULDN'T lay down for Wilson? He's intense!"

 

Grand Slam sighs, skipping the easy joke and opting only for "We'll be right back!"

[Guest BA_Baracus]

The camera fades to the backstage area, where "Deathwish" Danny Williams is sitting on a stool inside of a locker room... His head in his hands, he sits there glumly staring at a wall...

 

"Nice match, Daniel." A voice says, breaking the silence.

 

"Not my best effort... I could have done better..."

 

"You did fine and you know it."

 

Williams pauses, not knowing exactly what to say...

 

"Who are you?"

 

"Heh... a friend. Let's say we share something in common, Danny."

 

Williams' head drops to the ground once again...

 

"You have nothing in common with me... you don't know shit..."

 

The figure steps out into the light.

 

"I know your pain... and I know how you can lessen it... if only even just a little bit. If you want my help, I can make you a star... and even if it doesn't get rid of all that pain you are harboring, it'll help... you can make others feel your pain."

 

The scene fades to black as the camera focuses in on the man behind the voice... Tyler McClelland.

[Guest BA_Baracus]

As the show returns from another plug for “Hamtaro” on Cartoon Network (Hamsters=RATINGS), “Ace of Spades” by Motorhead kicks in, blaring loudly over the roaring crowd inside Pittsburgh’s Mellon Arena!

 

“If you like to gamble, I tell you I'm your man,

 

You win some, lose some, all the same to me...”

 

Another mini-guitar solo plays as Lemmy Kilmister’s voice is projected over the audio systems of houses everywhere again.

 

“The pleasure is to play, makes no difference what you say...”

 

Once more, the guitar plays a quick melody before the words kick in...

 

“I don't share your greed, the only card I need is

 

The Ace Of Spades

 

The Ace Of Spades!”

 

After those words, the music fades into the background, fans waving their signs around in the air as they attempt to get on TV. Quick flashes show us a few signs, such as “SCW=Super Crappy Wrestling!”, “I mark for Carnies!”, “HHH is holding Wilson down!” and the always present “You suck!”. The shot then pans down, down, down to the announcers table, where “Grand Slam” Mark Stevens and Bobby “I Hate Being Called Bobbi” Riley sit, anticipating the next match. The shot initally shows

 

Stevens: AND WE WELCOME YOU BACK TO PITTSBURGH FOR SWF SNAKE EYES! We’ve had a plethora of exciting matches tonight, and things get better, as for the second PPV in a row, Stryke defends his title against Ash Ketchum!

 

The shot cuts out to both announcers. And thus, we can see Bobby Riley, looking to one of those hand-held mirrors, admiring his “looks”. Suddenly, he realizes everyone’s watching him, and he stashes the mirror away, returning to his professional stature as he looks nervously at the camera.

 

Riley: Yeah... whatever. This match is gonna suck.

 

Stevens: Were you just-

 

Riley: You didn’t see anything. Now talk, Bat Boy.

 

Stevens: Well... Ash Ketchum enters the PPV straight off a victory over Johnny Rotten, while Stryke was involved in a brutal three-way tag team match! Both men are red hot at each other, and it’ll all blow up, right here on Snake Eyes!

 

Suddenly, the lights cut out, a kickin’ piano piece blastin’ over the speakers. The crowd begins to cheer a little, pyro similar to Christian’s entrance flowing from the top of the SmarkTron and spewing from vents in front of the entrance. The crowd rises to its feet, roaring with cheers.

 

Stevens: Look out, here comes trouble!

 

Riley: And he spells it T-R-U-B-E-L!

 

At the same time, a Poke Ball upon the SmarkTron. It begins to spin as the crowd pops, spinning faster and faster and faster until it stops, blocked out by a picture of a certain wrestler’s head, winking at everyone in the arena. A huge pyro blast suddenly kicks up from the front of the stage as Billy Crawford’s “Pokemon Theme” blasts through the speakers. The pyro in front of the entrance then stops, and a spotlight shines down on Ash Ketchum and his sexy girlfriend Misty. Turning around from his Jericho-like pose, Misty on his right side, he spins, held under his let hand a simple item... “THE BOX!”! DUN-DUN-DUN! Ash turns to look, waving into the ring at Funyon, who waves back as Ketchum and Misty make their way down to the ring, slapping hands with some of the crazed fans.

 

Funyon: The following match is scheduled for one-fall and it is for the SWF HARDDDDDDCORE CHAMPIONSHIP! Introducing first, being accompanied by Misty, from Pallet Town, weighing in at 258 pounds... ASH KETCHUMMMMMMMMMMMMM!

 

He climbs up onto the apron, opening the ropes to let Misty in, who tonight is wearing an Ash Ketchum shirt and Daisy Duke shorts, then climbs in himself. Dropping “THE BOX!” off in a corner, Ash climbs the turnbuckle closest to the crowd and with lightning precision, strips off his shirt. Whirling it wildly over his head, he smiles as he releases the shirt, flinging several rows back into the hands of some kid wearing a Midnight Carnival jersey. The young child smiles as Ash dismounts the turnbuckle, turning to face the stage and hunching down as if he were about to tackle or clothesline someone.

 

Stevens: Ash Ketchum is ready and waiting for Stryke!

 

Riley: AAAH! He’s squatting! I think he’s going to take a shit in the ring!

 

Sevens: But what are the contents of “THE BOX!”? The only man to have seen it was Gus, and he said, quote, “It was scary.”

 

Riley: That’s it? THAT’S F*CKIN’ IT? COME ON!

 

As we come back from talking about big fat Gus, the arena goes dark, the only light a white spotlight flickering onto the stage as Cypress Hill’s “Rock Superstar” kicks up. The fans instantly get to their feet in boos as blue and red pyro sparkle up from all across the stage. As the sparks and smoke clears, none other than Stryke slowly walks out onto the top of the stage, absorbing the hate of the fans in stride. Stryke stops under the spotlight and slowly raises his arms up, arm clutched on that ten pounds of Hardcore gold, finishing in a crucifix position as Funyon says his spiel.

 

Funyon: And from Sydney, Australia, weighing in at 219 pounds, he is a member of the sWo and SWF HARDDDDDCORE CHAMPION... STRYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYKE!

 

As thunderous boos rain down on him, Stryke heads down the ramp, the lights turning up as he makes his way to the ring, staring a hole into Ash’s eyes.

 

Stevens: Why does Stryke always look possessed?

 

Riley: What do you mean? All great people look like that. In fact, if he is posessed, it’s by the Andre the Giant’s spirit!

 

As Stryke walks down the ramp, Ash’s foot begins to tap against the mat as if he were Shawn Michaels setting up the Sweet Chin Music. It taps faster and faster Stryke gets, the crowd wondering just what the hell is going on here.

 

Riley: What the hell is going on here?

 

As Stryke reaches ringside, before he can even climb up onto the apron, Ketchum takes off, flying across the ring as he leaps through the ring ropes at Stryke, arms outstretched as wide as he can get! Ketchum flies through the air, slamming into Stryke as he catches him and slams Stryke back, Stryke’s head whipping back as both men slam into the unforgiving concrete floor and steel ramp following the huge suicide dive-like gore Ash Ketchum nails on Stryke!

 

Stevens: WHOA! What an explosive start to this match as Ash Kethcum nails his Sonic Boom gore on Stryke.

 

Riley: Looked more like a super suicide dive to me...

 

DING DING DING! Ash furiously sits up, lifitng his fists up as he pounds away into Stryke’s skull with vicious closed-fist blows! The Strykester is defenseless against the blows, but Ash relents, getting to his feet and grabbing Stryke as he gets up. Quickly, Ash throws Stryke into the ring, then slides under the bottom rope himself, the crowd cheering as Stryke gets to his feet. Ketchum quickly makes the move, grabbing Stryke’s arm and pressing his hip against Stryke’s as he throws Stryke hard into a hip toss. Stryke quickly falls to the mat, but gets right back up, tripping over Ash as he drops to his knees, flinging Stryke over his shoulders and into a quick fireman’s carry! Ash holds onto Stryke’s head though, locking his head around it as he floats over into a chinlock. He squeezes, applying great pressure to Stryke, but the Hardcore Champion gets onto his feet quickly, forcing Ash up with him as he draws his elbow forward, thrusting it back into Ash’s ribs. Ash cries out, but he retains the hold as Stryke hits Ash again with another quick elbow. Ketchum releases after this one, and this time, Stryke runs forward, hitting the ropes and bouncing off them. As he bounces back at Ash, Stryke prepares for a clothesline, but Ash counters, instead bending toward Stryke, arms extended as he Hardcore Champion is scooped up, spun and dropped to the mat in an Irish whip powerslam! Ketchum quickly hooks the leg of Stryke for the first pin-fall attempt of the match:

 

One...

 

T-Stryke kicks out! The Showstopper makes sure to let Ash know he’s not gone yet as he shoves Ash in the face, both men getting up quickly from the move.

 

Stevens: A little resentment from Stryke towards Ash...

 

Riley: Yeah... I’d be pissed if I was forced to fight this carnival freak!

 

As Stryke and Ash get up, Ketchum makes first Stryke, grabbing Stryke by the back of the head and dropping to the mat in a sit-out position, slamming Stryke’s chin into his head with a sit-out jawbreaker!

 

Stevens: But this is Ash’s rematch-

 

Riley: He doesn’t f*ckin’ deserve a rematch. He’s a has-been!

 

Stevens: Has-been, my ass! The crowd is going nuts for him!

 

As Ash releases Stryke, he dramatcially bounces away, grabbing his chin as his back hits the mat. The Showstopper is quick to recover as Ash gets to his feet. Ketchum seemingly has this whole match planned out, leaping into the air instantly as Stryke moves toward him. His legs extend out and smash into Stryke’s face with a missile dropkick, the Rocket Launch, that knocks Stryke back down as Ash falls onto his back, but the tough Hardcore champ and the Poke Freak get back up together, ready for whatever is next, the crowd cheering, standing on their feet in anticipation.

 

Stevens: We’ve seen total domination so far in this match from the obviously motivated Ketchum, but the question I want to know is... what’s in the box?

 

Riley: Probably Ash Ketchum’s brains.

 

Quickly, as the two men close in on each other, Ash delivers a quick kick to Stryke’s gut, causing him to bend over, Ash quickly applies a front headlock, swinging to one side, then the other as he spins onto his back, salmming Stryke and crunching his neck with a swinging neckbreaker! Stryke lands on the mat hard, and Ash counters, covering him for another pinning attempt!

 

One...

 

Tw-Stryke gets the shoulder up! The crowd sighs in sadness that the Poke Freak didn’t get the three count, but none the less, Ash goes back to work, grabbing him and pulling him onto his feet.

 

Riley: Stryke’s just getting warmed up, ya know...

 

Stevens: Bull. Ash is handing Stryke his ass on a silver platter!

 

As Ash grabs Stryke, he clutches Stryke’s arm and quickly pulls it to whip Stryke to the ropes. The Aussie, though, counters, and Ash is sent to the ropes.

 

Riley: But a quick counter by Stryke, and things change!

 

Ash bounces hard off the ropes, sent flying back towards Stryke, who leaps into the air, flipping as he thrusts his legs out into the Maven-style dropkick, nailing Ash in the chin and dropping him to the mat. Ketchum falls, but the move pops him right back up as Stryke scrambles onto his feet as if he were bring chased. By the time he does get up, Ash is there, and he spins hooking his leg back as he attempts to kick Stryke in the face with a spinning heel kick!As the leg swings, Stryke ducks underneath it. He pops up after it passes him, and stepping forward, he grabs Ash around the head. Stryke then begins to sprint, running halfway across the ring before he drops to the mat, dropping Ash into a bull dog. Ash hits the mat hard, and the force of the blow flips him onto his back. Stryke has the option of pinning him right then and there, but he instead grabs Ash by the head, slowly getting to his feet, pulling Ash up with him.

 

Riley: You fool! Pin him and end this atrocity!

 

Slowly, Stryke pulls Ash up, readying him for some move. The Showstopper grabs Ash’s arm, whipping him to the ropes, but Ash counters, sending Stryke flying to the ropes. Stryke hits the ropes and flies off them, but on the rebound, Ash extends his right arm out, preparing to clothesline Stryke as he bounces back. The Showstopper ducks under the Undercard King’s arm, appearing on the other side of Ash, and quickly, he grabs Ash’s head. With little haste, Stryke drops into a sitting position as the crowd boos him, stryke dropping Ash down into a neckbreaker. Ash’s head bounces off Stryke’s shoulder and he falls limp for a sec while Stryke covers him for a pinning attempt...

 

 

One...

 

Tw-Ash gets the shoulder up this time! Stryke is pissed, but as he gets up, he bends over, grabbing Ash and slowly pulling him onto his feet. The faster Stryke grabs Ash’s arm again, quickly whipping him to the ropes on the right of Mark Stevens.

 

Stevens: But seriosuly, what’s in the box?

 

Riley(trying to sound cute and sarcastic): A pretty pink dress, with little tiny ruffles on it!

 

However, this time, Stryke follows his prey, charging after Ash. Ash hits the ropes, and as Ketchum turns around, he is met with the extended forearm of Stryke! A clothesline from Stryke bends the ropes back and sends Ash tunmbling over the top, faling to the padded floor below!

 

Stevens: Whoa, look out below!

 

“THUD!” Ash lands on his back outside the ring. For a second, Stryke surveys the situation, simply watching Ash grab his back in pain and writhe in agony. Then, Stryke clutches the top rope, backing up a step. With great force, he whips himself over the top rope, leaping into the air as he flies downward toward Ash in a sitting position, slamming into Ash’s body with a slingshot leg drop to the outside!

 

Riley: That’ll give you a headache!

 

Stevens: That was weak. Better not be the best you can do...

 

Riley: I’m just waaaarming up...

 

Ketchum grabs his chest in obvious pain as the sadistic and relentless Stryke begins to slowly get up. All around him, the crowd boos, but Stryke tells them all to f*ck off. The ctowd suddenly explodes into a “You Suck!” chant, which Styke seems to absorb, only making him more vicious as he bends over, grabbing Ash and pulling him up. Quickly, Stryke grabs Ash by the head, and taking a few steps forward, throws Ash into the steel barricade surrounding the ring! Ash hits them with a “CLANK!”, tumbling over the top and spilling slowly into the audience.

 

Stevens: I have a bad feeling about where this is going...

 

Riley: HEY! GET BACK HERE!!!!

 

Ash begins to get up in the crowd, grabbing his head in pain, but Stryke follows him as Ash staggers back through the Mellon crowd. The Showstopper hops over the barrier as Ash staggers away from Stryke, but the Aussie catches Ash by the shoulder. Gripping tightly, he spins Ash around, drawing his other arm back into what eventually flies forward as a punch to Ash’s face. Ketchum staggers back farther, arms flailing as Stryke grabs Ash’s head and quickly delivers another punch, the same resulting from that blow as the previous one.

 

Riley: Ash is running away from his fear... of Stryke!

 

The crowd parts like the Red Sea as Stryke and Ash battle back through towards the back. Another punch, then another, another, another... Stryke is forcing Ash deeper and deeper into Section 103. Up the stairs they go now, having fought through the ringside crowd as Ash nearly trips on the stairs, crowd cheering a bit as the fight continues on. “THWAP! POW!” More punches fly from the fists of Stryke. Further and further he drives Ash back until he switches hands and throws a right hook. Ketchum’s left arm rises up, shielding his face from the blow as he swings is arm around and stops Stryke dead in his shoes. The Showstopper’s assault ends as Ash draws his arm back and throws another hook, the crowd popping loudly. And then, Ash catches sight of a Poke Freak in Row 25, Seat 2 with a sign, “USE THE SIGN!” scrawled on it in red marker. For the past 30 seconds, the fan has been reaching out to Ash to give him the sign, and seeing it, Ash grabs the sign, turning to face Stryke.

 

Stevens(comically): Look out below!

 

The Aussie looks up as 8 ounces of posterboard flies down at his face, slamming him in the head. He closes his eyes and nearly falls off the steps as he almost trips over himself, though unharmed by the blow as Ash hands the fan his sign back and smiles. Ash then reaches forward, grabbing Stryke by his hair and pulling him up, delivering casual punches to Stryke’s head at intervals as he drags the Hardcore Champion up the stairs and out into the surrounding concession area under the stands.

 

Stevens: Now where are they headed?

 

Ketchum, with Stryke in tow, leaves the fans and the ring, looking for something else. He loos to the right, then to the left. Nothing on this floor of use. Stryke tries to put up a fight to escape, and escaping from the grip of Ash, he swings wildly at the Poke Freak, Ash ducking the blow. Sensing danger, Ash runs for his dear life toward the escolators, Stryke in tow as the two men race down them reaching the ground level. Ahead of Ash is a popcorn vending machine with bags of popcorn on it, which is for some reason located in the backstage area of Mellon Arena. Whatever. As he reaches the bottom of the escolator, Stryke catches up to him, but Ash grabs the arm of Stryke, whipping him toward the buttery popcorn machine. Stryke sees the machine and attempts to stop himself from slamming into the cart. He successfully applies the brakes on himself, but as he does, Ash Ketchum charges at Stryke, forearm extended outward for his devastating forearm smash!

 

Stevens: The forearm smash of Ash Ketchum! There isn’t a more devastating forearm smash in the SWF!

 

Riley: Says who? You? Who made you the authority on this kind of sh*t?

 

Stryke turns himself around just in time to catch Ash, dropping down onto the ground just as Ash is about to hit him. He wraps his ankles around Ash’s, tripping Ash up and sending him flying into the side of the vending cart with a drop toe hold! The bags of popcorn spill their contents all over the Undercard King as he falls, lying belly-up. Stryke slowly rises to his feet, breathing a sigh of relief that it wasn’t him hitting the cart.

 

Stevens: OH MY GOD! Ash Ketchum slams HARD into the side of that cart! He may be out cold!

 

Riley: Out cold? Excuse me, Mr. Melodramatic.

 

As Ash remains down, Stryke stares at Ash for only a second and then suddenly begins putting the boots to Ash’s chest. aggresively stomping away at Ash. Meanwhile, Ash waves his hands over his head and kicks his feet from side to side as Stryke stomps away at him. Stryke continues to stomp at Ash as slowly, he rises up from the salty mess of exploded kernels, leaving behind a buttery “popcorn angel”.

 

Stevens: Look at that, a popcorn angel!

 

Riley: How immature! That’s down right stupid!

 

As Ash tries to get up, Stryke’s stomps stop him halfway through his ascension, but the Strykester grabs a handful of Ash’s hair, pulling him to his feet. The Poke Freak yelps as Stryke now drags Ash behind him, carrying him around away from the popcorn stand as the shot goes inside the arena and to Bobby and Grand Slam.

 

Stevens: An amazing match so far between the two men! Action-packed, and Ash is really sending a message to Stryke! But now, they seem to be heading somewhere else in the arena-

 

Stevens looks over to see Riley with that mirror again, admiring his “looks”. SBeing caught, he stashes the mirror away, returning to his professional stature as he looks nervously at the camera.

 

Stevens: What did I tell you-

 

Riley: F*ck off, OK? Just f*ck off, Stevens. Leave me alone and I won’t bug you.

 

Stevens: Too late for that, partner...

 

The shot quickly changes to what appears to be a loading dock in Mellon Arena. Stryke is still dragging Ash behind him, but now, Ash seems a bit more tired. Maybe Stryke’s stomps have done some damage. Now, though, Stryke grabs Ash in a front headlock, grabbing his shorts as he lifts Ash up into the air, walking back a step and repositioning himself. Then, Stryke falls back, slamming Ash onto a wooden crate that splinters as Stryke executes a vertical suplex, recovering slowly, but surely as Ash grabs his back and screams in pain.

 

Riley: Ouch! Sounded vicious... yet soothing...

 

Grabbing Ash, Stryke screams at him to put up a God damn fight, and then, pulling ash onto his feet, the savage Stryke does the unthinkable. Grabbing Ash by the back of his head, he spots a plate glass window that allows a view into another room, and Stryke runs toward it, Ash in tow.

 

Stevens: Jesus no, he’s not gonna-

 

The sound of glass shattering overrides Stevens as Ash is hurdled through the glass window, tumbling into an indoor porduction room. The SWF employees inside ump out of their seats, dumping their headphones off and making a dash for the door, which flies open as the A/V crew scrambles into the adjoining room. The shot shows them leaving, then focuses downward where Ash Ketchum lies on the floor, writing in pain and crying out loud.

 

Stevens: OH MY GOD! Ash Ketchum has been sent flying through that pane of glass! He may be out cold!

 

Stryke: Move it, fatass.

 

Stryke shoves Cameraman Gus out of the way as he steps through where the window once was.

 

Riley: Hey look! The censor’s gone! Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fu-

 

Stevens puts his hand over Riley’s mouth, muffling the noises exiting his throat.

 

Stevens: I can’t believe I have to censor you now... I’m not paid enough for this job...

 

Stryke steps over the pane, door to the next room ajar as he drops on top of Ash, hooking his leg for a pin-fall attempt... excpet the referee is not there! One, two, three, Stryke has this match won... but where is the damn ref?

 

The shot cuts out to a hallway, where the referee is opening doors up, looking for the two men.

 

Riley: Hey, retard! Try the production room, dumbass!

 

Stryke continues to pin Ash, but eventually, he just gets frustrated enough to give up and pull Ash up off his feet. Ketchum has cuts on his face from the glass window, but he doesn’t bleed a whole lot yet as Stryke pulls Ash up onto his feet like an old man picking up his groceries after the wind blew him over. And slowly, he drags Ash behind him into the nexrt room: the staff lounge.

 

Stevens: Looks like they’re heading for the staff lounge.

 

Riley(sarcastically): No, really? I couldn’t see that!

 

The Hardcore Champion knows what to do next, grabbing Ash around the head for a DDT, but suddenly, Ash waistlocks Stryke, bending backwards as he flips Stryke into a northern lights suplex! “THUD!” Stryke lands hard on the carpeted floor

 

And now, with Stryke down, Ash bridges Stryke for the pin!

 

One...

 

Two...

 

 

 

 

THREE... wait! That damn ref’s not there yet! Ash looks around for the ref, and when he realizes he’s not coming, he releases the bridge and gets up, a few trickles of blood dripping from his forehead as he bends over, pulling Stryke onto his feet. Ash’s head scans the room, looking for a suitable weapon, and his search ends rather quickly as he drags Stryke over to his weapon of choice. Pressing a button and opening the door he places Stryke’s head inside a MICROWAVE!!! Quickly, Ash slams the door back on Stryke’s head! “THUD!” The Strykester gets another bruise to his head. The crowd cheers from their seats as Ash looks over at the control panel. Stryke places his hand on Ash’s shoulder as Ash reaches across Stryke’s body and presses a few buttons. “BEEP-BOOP! BEEP-BEEP-BEEP-BOOP!”

 

Riley: Oh shit! Stryke’s about to get a really bad sun tan!

 

As Ash presses the buttons, that hand of Stryke’s slides off the shoulder and behind Ash’s head, and as the Poke Freak leanms forward to press the Start button, the head presses forward, slamming Ash’s head into the door! Stryke saves himself from an unpleasant tan as Ash staggers backwards. The champ pulls his head out of the microwave, staring at Ash for a second as he grabs his forehead. Then, he steps forward, but Ash grabs his arm to whip him. As Ash whips Stryke, though, he reverses, sneding Ash flying across the room and slamming into a Pepsi MAX machine across the hall. There is a huge “THUD!” as Ash slams shoulder first into the machine, grabbing his shoulder and crying in severe pain, followed by a small “CLANK!” as a can of Pepsi MAX falls from the machine, knocked loose by Ash’s hit.

 

Riley: Free can! Better go pick it up after this match!

 

As Ash grabs his shoulder and cries in pain, Stryke grabs Ash, screaming obscenities in his face as he pulls Ash up, grabbing him from behind. Stryke begins to move backward toward the door with the exit sign over it, waistlocking Ash as he does. Ketchum is still groggy from the last move as Stryke lifts Aash up and backwards, bumping into the door himself and knocking it open. Stryke saves Ash from a lot of pain, but he still manages to execute a near-perfect German suplex on him! Meanwhile, down the hall, Mr. Referee Man stumbles into the pic. He sees the two guys and watches as Stryke bridges the suplex over. The ref sees this, and he hustles his slow ass over toward them, wasting valuable time in the process.

 

Stevens: And there’s the referee, finally reaching the two men-

 

Riley: Took the fatass long enough...

 

Finally reaching Stryke, he drops to the ground, counting:

 

One...

 

Two...

 

TH-NO! Ash breaks free of the bridge! The two men go tumbling, and slowly, like two old men with 50-pound weights strapped on their backs, they get up, but as they get up, Stryke grabs Ash in a side headlock, squeezing as he walks down the hall toward the stage entrance with Ash in tow.

 

Riley: NOW WHERE ARE THEY GOING?

 

The shot changes over to where the curtain is. Sitting in two chairs, drinking beer again, are SWF wrestler Jay Dawg and SWF backstage worker and former wrestler Neilsen of the Motherf*ckin’ Jungle. Czar Galatea’s former disciple is in the middle of spinning another tale as we join in.

 

Neilsen: ...So I f*ckin’ told the little motherf*cker, “HEY! Get the f*ck of my f*ckin’ lawn, f*cker, or Thugg will f*ckin’ wreck yo f*ckin’ shit, motherf*cker!”.

 

JD: *laugh* Damn straight-

 

As the two talk, Stryke comes wheeling around the corner, carrying Ash. Spotting the golf cart, he moves toward it, throwing Ash into the side of it. Ash hits it with his back and screams out in pain, Stryke following behind. He bends over, slowly pulling Ash onto his feet as he grabs his back in pain, but suddenly, Ash grabs Stryke in the back of his head, and moving him ever so slightly as he turns around, Ash slams Stryke’s head down into the steering wheel.

 

“HONK!” The blow activates the horn as Ash pulls Stryke’s head up again. “HONK! HONK! HONK! HONK! HONK! HONK! HONK! HONK!” Neilsen and JD just stand there, eyes bulging open as if they were 11-year-olds looking at their first Playboy. Done havign fun, Ash pulls Stryke’s head up, but Stryke pokes Ash in the eyes and quickly knees Ash in the gut, causing him to bend over in pain. Quickly, Stryke grabs Ash by the waistband of his shorts and by his head, and running, throws Ash thorugh the curtain, stepping through soon after.

 

Neilsen: What the f*ckin’ f*ck was that?

 

JD: ...I dunno...

 

Meanwhile, on the stage, Ash is slowly getting up onto his feet. Stryke is waiting for him, and he swings his arm around, jacking Ash in the jaw with a left hook! Ash staggers back, back toward and them down the ramp as Stryke chases after him. Another hook, and Ash nearly falls, but keeps himself up as he staggers down the ramp. This time, though, he leaves himself vulnerable as Stryke draws his arm back, and...

 

“SLAP!” Stryke uncorks a huge chop to Ash’s chest as the Poke Freak staggers , grabbing his chest and staggering back into the apron.. “WOOO!” goes the crowd, even though Stryke is evil. Stryke, though, doesn’t care, grabbing Ash and throwing him into the ring. Ketchum seems to be dead as the referee runs down the ramp, sliding into the ring about the same time Stryke does. The Showstopper climbs to his feet, grabbing Ash and pulling him up onto his feet. Grasping the arm of Ash, Stryke lets out a might cry and heaves Ash across the ring with a whip, backing up for some sort of move, maybe a finisher, but as Ash hits the ropes, Stryke bumps back against the ref, grabbing on the ref’s shirt.

 

Riley(distracting Stevens’ attention): Hold on, what’s this? The referee is down here already? Damn, he’s fast when he wants to be...

 

Ketchum sees this, and as he bounces off the ropes, he runs at Stryke before he can do a damn thing, extending his forearm out and smashing the Hardcore champ in the head! Stryke is thrown back by the throw, but he slams into the head of the referee, knocking both men down. Ash is the only man left standing... and sitting in the corner... is... “THE BOX!!!!!!” DUN DUN DUN!!!

 

Stevens: I think it’s time for the secret of the box to be revealed!

 

Ketchum stares at the box. The crowd pops. Ketchum looks at the crowd and points to the box. The crowd pops louder. Ketchum walks over and grabs the box. The crowd pops super loud! Ash opens the box. The crowd is screaming just as loud as they can... and then... he pulls something from the box...

 

Stevens: Oh my God, it’s not-

 

Riley: What the hell? Is that-

 

 

 

A Pokemania Fist Helmet! Just like the Hulkster’s old one, only this one says “Pokemania”. And the crowd goes mentally insane. An “ASH!” chant erupts from the crowd as Stryke, grabbing the back of his head, gets to his feet. Ketchum places the helmet on his head, grabbing the chinstrap and buckling it tight. He gets down into position like in the beginning of the match, tapping his foot as he stalks Stryke. The Aussie gets to his feet and turns around, Ash’s foot tapping faster and faster-And then he leaps into action, charging at Stryke head-on, leaping into the air, pointing the might fist of the Poke Freaks of the Earth at Stryke’s head, and-

 

Stevens: Here it comes!

 

Not a “CLANK!”, but a “THUD!”, more like a “BOOM!”, echoes throughout the arena as that fist helmet impacts the face of Stryke, cutting his forehead open slightly, but more importantly, knocking him out. Ketchum removes the helmet and drops down on top of Stryke, covering him for the apparent three-count as the crowd counts along!

 

One...

 

 

Two...

 

 

THREE!!!

 

 

 

The crowd cheers, but wait! The ref’s been knocked out by his collision with Stryke! He is still moving, albeit slowly, but as Ash continues to pin Stryke, he realizes something’s wrong, and looking around, he finds his problem. Angrily slamming his fist into the mat, Ash gets onto his knees, then slowly, like a tortoise waking up from a sleep, pushes himself onto his feet.

 

Stevens: Ash had this, but that... that... bitch, Stryke grabbed the ref and took him down with him!

 

Riley: All’s fair in a hardcore match! You can’t bitch about that!

 

Stevens: You always find something to bitch about, though...

 

Riley: That’s bullshit! I do not! I demand you apologize!

 

As Ash gets up, he turns to face Misty and tells her to get him something useful. Misty turns and calls out for something to use. Suddenly, not one, but three front row Poke Freaks sacrificem their chairs for the cause, which go flying into the ring. The young Misty goes under the ring and quickly pulls out a garbage can, with lid, throwing that into the ring. Ash watches the items enter the ring, and he avoids them, but he then calls out for something else...

 

Ash: Get me a ladder!

 

Stevens: He’s getting out the hardware! Now it’s a hardcore fight!

 

Misty nods, bending over and throwing the ring apron up as she bends down and grabs hold of a ladder, Ash watching on while the crowd cheers. But suddenly, from behind, a bleeding Stryke crawls on his knees from out of nowhere and rapidly, he swings his forearm/fist up between Ash’s legs, crunching Ash’s Poke Balls with a low blow! The Poe Freak grabs his lower extremities, faling to the mat in a heap, clutching his balls in pain as he cries out. Following Ash’s orders, Misty slides the ladder into the ring for Ash, but she can only watch as Stryke grabs Ash, pulling him up onto his feet, and grabbing his arm, whips Ash into the corner. Ash’s back skams into the turnbuckle, and he collapses, falling into a sitting position in the corner.

 

Stevens: This does not look good...

 

Riley: For Ash, at least!

 

Stryke turns around, grabbing one of the steel chairs, and moving back, he runs in at Ash, throwing the chair at Ketchum. Ash catches it as Stryke jumps into the air, thrusting his legs out for a dropkick to Ash’s face!

 

Riley: As Stryke would say: “G’night, mate!”

 

Just as Stryke is about to hit Ash in the face, Ash rolls out of the way and out of the corner. Stryke’s jaw drops to his knees as he flies at the turnbuckle, hitting it just right si that one leg goes to either side and Stryke’s balls slam into the cold, unforgiving steel post! Stryke cries out in pain as his eyes open wide up, but the tough-as-nails Stryke pulls himself up, gimping as he turns to face a standing Ash Ketchum. Ketchum throws the chair at Stryke, who catches it. Foolish mistake. Ash quickly leaps ito the air, turning his body around and sideways in midair as he thrusts a leg out, and-“CLANK!”-Stryke receives a nasty sideways spinning roundhouse kick through the chair to his face, the chair and Stryke falling separately to the mat, but the Strykester slowly attempts to sit up. Ash just watches him, stalking him, waiting... waiting...

 

Riley: What’s he hesitating for, dammit! KICK HIM IF YOU’RE GONNA!

 

As Stryke gets up after the move, Ash knees Stryke in the gut, forcing him to bend over. Stepping back, Ash takes a step forward, swinging his right leg up and down, then doing the same with his left. It is the left one that hits Stryke in the back of the head and forces him down the the mat, victim of a savage scissors kick, the Air Ketchum Deux! Stryke collapses to the mat, and Ash quickly flips him over with his foot, dragging the ladder over toward Stryke. Opening it up, he places Stryke inside and slams it shut, turning around and running to the nearest turnbuckle, LEAPING to the top rope as the crowd anticipates his next movement.

 

Stevens: We might see Ash go for the Snorlax Splash here! It’s an awesome move to see!

 

Riley: Meh... probably a double axe handle.

 

Ash swings himself around, steadies himself, then leaps off, contracting and extending his arms out as he flies through the air, hoping for the fore-mentioned five-star frog splash, but Stryke rolls out of the ladder and Ash eats steel, slamming hird onto his chest and bouncing onto his back, grabbing his chest in pain.

 

Stevens: God damn! Ash Ketchum’s ribs may be busted into pieces!

 

As Stryke gets to his feet, he grabs another, different steel chair as Ash grabs his ribs in pain and cries as if he was a two-year-old getting a booster shot. Stryke turns around, throwing the chair at Ash, who catches it and it immediately hit by an upward-thrusting leg, impacting with thr chair and eventually Ash’s chin, nailing Ash with a superkick that sends him tumbling to the mat!

 

Riley: That, my friend, is the devastating HEATSEEKER! No one kicks out of it!

 

Stryke stares at Ash’s beathen and bloody body as he remains down for a second, enough time for Stryke to drop down, get up, and drop down again for a quick drop of the elbow or two. The second time, he remains on Ash, as he attempts to pin the Poke Freak!

 

One...

 

Two...

 

THR-NO! Ash kicks out! The crowd cheers, as does Misty while Stryke is thrown off Ash and lands on his back. Ash attempts to get up by himself, the crowd clearly behind the Undercard King.

 

Stevens: I thought you said no one kicks out of it?

 

Riley: I didn’t say that! Stop putting words in my mouth, ass!

 

Ash cries out in pain, but he slowly gets up, the faster Stryke getting onto his feet before Ash does. Ketchum holds his chest as he gets onto his feet, but Stryke steps aside, catching him across the body and lifting him up into the air, flaling forward and slamming Ash onto his back with a Rock Bottom, right into the aluminum garbage can thrown in earler by Misty!!

 

Riley: And there’s the Breakdown! My, Stryke is making this look EASY!

 

“CRUNCH!” Ash goes down on his back into the can, and Stryke recovers, getting to his feet. He quickly grabs the ladder, setting it up with great ease and rapidly ascending to the top of it. Even though Stryke is a heel, the fans still react with some applause as Stryke is about to perform some kind of high risk move. Stryke doesn't disappoint, leaping backward off the top of the ladder moonsault style and twisting an extra 90 degrees to land his knees on the fallen Ash!

 

Stevens: Ouch! Lithium Heartattack on The Undercard King! Ash is down and out!

 

Stryke looks in pain as well from the aerial move, but he tries not to let show as he goes for the cover on Ash Ketchum.

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

THRE--NO! Ash just manages to kick out! Stryke grabs Ash, pulling him up by his hair.

 

Riley: Na na na na... na na na na... hey hey hey... goodbye Ash...

 

As Ash remains out of it, Stryke pulls him onto his feet, sliding him onto his shoulders, grabbing his arm and leg as he holds him in a fireman’s carry. The obiouvs is that this is a set up for the Downfall, Stryke’s finishing maneuver. However, when Stryke releases the leg hold and prepare to swing Ash back into a 3/4 facelock bulldog, Ketchum shifts Stryke forward, instead spinning the other way and landing on his feet, and ducking down, slides Stryke onto shoulders. Ash catches him in a Samoan drop, and it looks like Mew Driver time! But wait! Just as Ash releases the legs of Stryke, he spins Stryke’s body 180 degrees and swings him around, instead dropping into a sit-out neckbreaker! The K-Cutter is executed, just next to the chair Ash dropped earlier. Ash remains sitting up, taking a break as Stryke remains down. Ketchum is exhausted. He needs this break if he hopes to even continue onward.

 

Stevens: GOD! What a counter from Ash! These two men have thrown themselves around like rag dolls, and they’re still coming back for more and more!

 

Riley: This is nuts! I don’t believe it! Ash is actually winning for now!

 

Ketchum, face full of blood, rolls out of the ring, landing on his feet outside. He’s been beaten raw, but he still has some gas left in the tanks, and he’s not through. Now outside the ring, he throws up the ring apron, reaching underneath the ring to extrude his weapon of choice. The crowd watches on, then explodes into cheer as he pulls from underneath, one bonafide fold-up table. Ketchum stares at the table as Stryke recovers from the K-Cutter, crawling on his chest toward the ladder and grabbing hold of the bottom rungs as he attempts to pull his bleeding and broken body up off the mat.He tries to swallow his spit down is thorat, slowly gulping as he pulls himself up. Outside the ring, Ketchum has broken gaze with the table, which he now begins to set up. He reaches under, pulls one pair of legs, then the other set down, setting the table up outside the ring, inches away from the ring apron, positioning it just so that the impact will be most severe if he were to hit a move from off the ladder.

 

Stevens: This is gonna be it! The grand finale! Ash is setting it up!

 

Meanwhile, in the ring, Stryke begins to pull himself up, using the rungs on the ten-foot ladder as leverage to do so. He pulls himself up onto his feet after almost 30 seconds of heart-wrenching labor, but now that he is up, and Ash is on the outside, Stryke plots to climb the ladder, leap off, and slam Ash not only onto the ground, but through the table if he can. Reaching up, Stryke grabs hold of higher rungs and begins to pull himself up, climbing highter and higher up the ladder. He slowly climbs, gaining height each time as Ash looks up, spotting Stryke climbing. Realizing that he’s in danger, Ash slides back into the ring, grabbing hold of the ladder with both hands, and climbing the opposite side that faces the ladder, he begins to catch Stryke. The ladder is almost touching the ring ropes closest to the announcers table and the table Ash set up, but Ash can’t seem to catch Stryke!

 

Riley: Come on, Champ! You can do it!

 

Stryke does seem to picking up the pace, and he and Ash battle to see who can race to the top first, for they will have control on this ladder. The psychotic Aussie suddenly begins to slow, nearing the top of the ladder as the crowd’s cheers get louder still. Ash now begins to catch Stryke, climbing to his level and passing him up.

 

Riley: No, dammit! Climb faster!

 

Soon, Ash can climb no more as he reaches the top of the ladder, which wobbles a bit. Stryke is about a foot below him, and he reaches upwards for the top of the ladder. At the same time, Ash reaches downward and grabs Stryke’s head, pulling him slowly the last foot up. In doing so, he applies a front headlock, throwing Stryke’s arm over his back as he attempts to superplex Stryke to the outside through the table!

 

Stevens: Look out!

 

As Ash attempts to lift Stryke off the ladder, Stryke purposely hooks his leg around the ladder. When Ash lifts him up, Stryke refuses to budge, and in doing so, he throws the ladder off balance, nearly sending both men crashing to the ground.Ash releases the front headlock and grabs the ladder, stablilizing it, but Stryke quickly counters, grabbing the back of Ash’s head and forciing it downward into the top of the cold steel ladder. Ash’s head thus bounces off, but with his hands on the ladder, he doesn’t fall, momentarily stunned as Stryke climbs to the top of the ladder.

 

Stevens: Stryke saved himself by hooking the ladder with his leg, but what will he do now?

 

He seems to mouth the words “God help me”, or something, and quickly...

 

Stryke leaps from the top of the ladder, falling behind Ash. He hooks Ash in a waistlock from behind as if going for a sunset flip, the two men plummeting over the ropes as Stryke quickly flips another 180 degrees in mid-air, snapping Ash into position, the men plummeting, plummeting toward the outside, the crowd screaming loudly, flashbulbs into the crowd exploding,Ash and Stryke falling, time seeming to slow down for a second, the two men heading right for-

 

Stevens: HOLY SH*T! LOOK OUT!

 

“CRACK!” “THUD!” Ash Ketchum’s body slams through the table, which splinters violently in half as the crowd gasps loudly. There are screams, a few people scream “OH MY GOD!”, and the fans of Section 113 start a small “HOLY SH*T!” chant. Stryke, having landed hard on his ass, falls back against the ring apron, breathing hard as Ash remains... motionless, excpet for a few convulsions to show he is still alive... but barely it seems.

 

Stevens: JESUS CHRIST ALMIGHTY! Ash Ketchum has been broken and half! And I think he may be paralyzed... I... I don’t know what to say...

 

Riley: YES! YES YES YES YES YES! STRYKE DID IT!

 

Quickly, EMTs are on the scene, rushing down with a stretcher. Ketchum’s face is almost literally covered in a mask of crimson by now, and he slowly begins to move, but barely at all. Stryke, in pain, grabs his lower back and rises to his feet, crying almost, but he holds his tears back. He is lucky. He can get up. Ash can’t for now. Stryke is seemingly invincible as he rolls back into the ring, referee making his way to the hardcore champion as the EMTs tend to Ash, slowly pulling him up onto his feet. He is conscious of his surroundings and where he is... but he looks to be in a horrfying amount of pain.

 

Stevens: Ladies and gentlemen... I apologize for the match ending in such a violent manner-

 

Riley: How the hell can you apologize for that, Stevens?

 

The EMTs slowly lift Ash up, helping him to his feet to be taken away, and slowly, the silent crowd watches their hero get slowly carried away. As he does, Misty begins to cry, but he lifts a fist into the air. The crowd pops insanely, and they begin to chant his name...

 

Crowd: ASH! ASH! ASH! ASH!

 

Stevens: I am in awe of this... I think Ash Ketchum’s career... is over... 11 years of pro wrestling... gone...

 

Funyon is ready at ringside, though no official call has been made on the match. But then...

 

Stevens: WHAT THE HELL?

 

What the hell is right, as Ketchum stops the medical technicians and looks at Stryke with a stare of anger! The EMTS are shoved back, but they grab him, trying to pull him backstage. Stryke lifts his arm out, curling his fingers upwards as he tells Ash to bring it. Suddenly, the EMTs are again shoved out of the way as Ash slowly slides back into the ring! The crowd explodes in cheer as Ash gets to his feet. He has a move in mind, as does Stryke.

 

Stevens: He must’ve had a God damn stinger! Those things are bitches! But he’s still in this! MY GOD!

 

As Ash scrambles to his feet, he begins to spin his body around, swinging his leg out. Stryke does as well, and as both men spin around in the air, Stryke’s boot heel slams into Ash’s face, but at the same time, Ash’s boot slams into Stryke’s face! Both men collapse immediately to the mat, victims of each others spinning heel kicks! Ash is thrown away toward the still-standing ladder, Stryke in the opposite direction. Ketchum slams shoulder-first into the ladder, which still does not tip as Stryke falls to the mat. Both men remain down as the referee watches and we begin to count in seconds...

 

One-Neither man moves, but stirs slowly

 

Two-Ash grabs hold of the ladder, slowly pulling himself up as Stryke rolls around for a second, crowd clapping and cheering for Ash.

 

Riley: Stay down, Ash! Let Stryke pin you!

 

Three-Stryke slowly, planting his hands on the mat, tries to push himself up vainly.

 

Four- Ash looks up, grabbing hold of the ladder, and reaching up, grabs a rung. He’s nuts! He’s climbing up!

 

Stevens: Look at this! Look at the resiliance of these two men! AMAZING!

 

Five- Stryke sits up, using his hands to push himself up.

 

Six- Ash begins to climb up the ladder as Astryke slowly continues to get up.

 

Seven- Stryke gets onto his feet! This match isn’t over yet, folks!

 

Stryke staggers, staggers toward the ladder Ash is climbing. He grabs hold, reaching up to grab Ash’s leg and pull him down, but Ketchum perseveres, lifitng his leg up and kicking the Showstopper in the head with his boot. Stryke falls, exhausted. He can take no more. He has spent everything he has left in him as Ash continues his climb. He cries out in pain occasionally as Misty watches on, eyes growing wider with each step Ash takes. Stryke falls forward, slamming his head on the steel rungs of the ladder. The Aussie falls back, sharply, falling to a side as well as his body drops to the mat, lying parallel to the rungs of the ladder.

 

Riley: Oh f*ck! Get up! GET UP!!!

 

Meanwhile, Ash reaches near the top of the ladder, and in doing so, he turns around. He is a good, oh, eight feet off the ground. He looks at the fans. It’s time. He looks at his beautiful girl Misty and tells her he loves her. Then quickly, without a second notice, he leaps off the ladder, flying through the air as he flips himself back! He flies majestically like Billy Kidman as he soars through the air at Stryke, rotating 270 degrees, and then about 30 more as his protected knees crash into Stryke’s chest! Stryke lets out a cry of pain, but he doesn’t move, other than from the force of Ash’s impact.

 

Stevens: JESUS CHRIST! IT LOOKS LIKE ASH JUST HIT A SHOOTING STAR PRESS FROM THE LADDER!

 

As he lands on Stryke, Ash falls on top of Stryke, covering him as he hooks his leg and the referee drops to the mat, ready to make the count...

 

 

 

One...

 

 

 

 

 

Two...

 

 

 

 

THREE!!!

 

Stevens: YES! YES! HE HAS DONE IT!

 

Funyon: You winner, and NEW SWF HARDDDCORE CHAMPION... ASH KETCHUMMMMMMMM!!!!

 

The crowd explodes as Ash collapses, but with assistance from the ref, he is helped onto his knees. The referee is thrown the belt by the timekeeper, and he catches it with precision, handing it off to Ash. Ketchum collects the belt as the crowd cheers, but suddenly, they begin to boo as Misty catches someone sliding under the ring ropes behind Ash with something in his hands. She quickly makes a judgement call, hoping to save Ash.

 

Misty: ASH, LOOK OUT!

 

Ash turns to look around, but...

 

 

 

 

“CLANK!” A chair flies into his face! He collapses as his attacker helps up Stryke, who is grabbing his ribs and crying in pain.

 

Stevens: DAMN YOU, WILSON! DAMN YOU!

 

Riley: Ha haaaa! This is sweet!

 

Chris Wilson, Ash’s attacker, who creatively came through the stands wielding a steel chair, helps his sWo partner in crime up onto his feet. Something has to be done as Wilson picks on Ash, poking at him with the chair and laughing. Someone has to stand up.

 

Stevens: Someone stop the damn attack!

 

That someone is Misty. Though three months pregnant, she slides under the bottom rope and gets up onto her feet with all the speed and grace she had before her pregnancy. She charges at Wilson, knocking him down with a clothesline, and though he drops the chair, he pops right back up. Misty quickly takes a swing at Wilson as he gets up, but he ducks, stepping behind her and hooking her arms into a full nelson! Misty cries out as Wilson holds Misty down and screams at Stryke to do something. The Strykester responds, grabbing hold of Misty’s Ash Ketchum shirt and ripping it off of her, discarding of the item offensive to him and leaving Misty in her white bra. She cries out and begins to cry as Stryke stares into Misty’s face, his arm hanging back as he begins to trash talk the young girl. Quickly, that arm swings around, slapping Misty across the face, crowd booing as Stryke draws the arm back, backhanding Misty, but suddenly, the crowd cheers as Erek Taylor, toting steel chair, makes his way down to the ring, sliding under the ropes.

 

Stevens: It’s Taylor! Erek Taylor is here!

 

Riley(sarcastically): Oh, goody goody... Mr. Heroman is coming to save the day... yipee!

 

Wilson releases Misty from the hold, Misty collapsing to the mat as he and Stryke exit the ring, Erek chasing them out with a few swipes of his chair. Wilson and Stryke re-unite at the ramp, and Wilson points, screaming at Taylor among other things that he will get Erek. Erek just points his chair at Wilson and says that he’s next.

 

Riley: I am speechless right now. That match was off the charts, and it looks like Stryke and Ash still have major issues to iron out!

 

Stevens: What a match! But we still have our main event as Edwin MacPhisto defends his coveted World Title against Chris Wilson! But next, a four-way ensues for the ICTV title, including that man, Erek Taylor, and that’s coming up right after this commercai break on SWF Snake Eyes!

 

 

Fade to commercial for Pepsi Twist, starring who else, but...

 

 

Erek Taylor. What? You thought it would be Ash? The Ash one isn’t on now. That’s on later in the show...

[Guest BA_Baracus]

As a brief ad for the sponsors of this fabulous Pay Per View disappears, the cameras return to action, giving an overhead view of the interiors of the Mellon Arena, mounted firmly in the city of steel: Pittsburgh, that is. The fans are cheering madly, waving their homemade signs around like mental patients. The scene pans out the entire arena before giving the show to the SWF's very own commentary team: "Grand Slam" Mark Stevens and Bobby Riley.

 

"(Mark) Snake Eyes."

 

"(Riley) You callin' me a snake?"

 

"(Mark) No, I merely just said the name of tonight's event."

 

"(Riley) What? I'm not good enough to be a snake?"

 

"(Mark) I never said that!"

 

"(Riley) You were thinking it!"

 

"(Mark) Ho- forget it. We have had a great night, and it's only going to get better as we have two more exciting matches for you loyal SWF fans!"

 

"(Riley) Oh yeah? Like what?"

 

"(Mark) Well, first, we have the ICTV Title match that has excitement written all over it. The current Champion, Sacred, will have to defend it against Fallout, Longdogger Pete, and Erek Taylor! This will be no easy task. And if you think it couldn't get better, Chris Wilson will finally get his shot at the title against the very same Mac Daddy!"

 

"(Riley) Enough chatter, you're ruining the moment. Let's get this thing started."

 

Funyon prepares his microphone, testing it by tapping it as this Pittsburgh crowd eagerly await the entrances of the competitors.

 

"You will get yours...

you will get yours...

you will get yours...

you will get yours...

 

YOU WILL GET YOURS!"

 

After the fifth repetition of the opening line, an explosion of white pyro goes off on the stage as "Cold Contagious" begins to play, sending the crowds into an absolute frenzy! LDP steps out from within and points to the sky, getting another ovation for the Miami native.

 

"You have no right to calm me down

You were never that around

And I have missed

 

Cold contagious

All the mighty mighty men

What you save is what you lose out in the end

Cold contagious

Cold contagious...!"

 

LDP moves down the ramp, stretching his arms and legs before entering the ring.

 

"(Funyon) The following match is scheduled as a FOUR MAN MATCH for the S-W-F Intercontinental Television Title! The rules are as follows.... the first man to complete a pin, knockout, or submission over any other competitor, whether the champion or not, will be declared the *NEW* ICTV Champion!! Introducing first, from Miami, Florida, he weighs in at 272 pounds, Longdogger Pete.... L!! D!! P!!"

 

The crowds erupt once again as LDP achknowledges them with a friendly wave. However, the cheers quickly turn sour, into those of pure hatred as the lights go out and the music of Bush is replaced by the sounds of "Scum of the Earth"! A cryptic green glow rises over the entryway before Fallout enters the stage. The Nuclear Weapon walks down the ramp, his face concealed by the robes every Clannie is known for. A giant green explosion rocks the stage behind him, and not surprisingly, doesn't affect Fallout, who continues his march until he reaches the foot of the ring.

 

"(Funyon) And his opponent, from Phoenix, Arizona, weighing in at 185 pounds..... he is a member of the Clan [massive boos], the Nuclear Weapon.... FAAALLLLOOOUUUTTTT!!!!!"

 

Fallout ascends the steel stairs before entering the ring and removes his robes. The Clannie ignores the heated reception aimed towards him, and proceeds to warm up, hopping up and down to work out his lift.

 

"(Mark) Fallout has fought Sacred before but the addition of LDP and Erek could make this interesting."

 

"(Riley) Interesting to who?"

 

"(Mark) To us, the viewers. We haven't seen th- WHOA!"

 

The crowds erupt at a moment's notice, cheering and screaming franticatlly as Trust Company's "Downfall" blasts out of the speakers! All of a sudden, the lights in the Mellon Arena mutate into multiple colors, transforming the building into a nightclub.

 

"Can I break away? Push me away,

make me fall, just to see,

another side of me...

 

Push me away, you can't see,

what I see,

on the other side of me..."

 

"No one can see anything on the other side of me!"

"I walk! I crawl! Losing everything, ready for a downfall!"

 

Flames begin to shoot from the entrance, and as the chorus ends, the flames set off a giant explosion, rocking the arena off its foundation! The explosion leaves behind a trail of smoke and debree, putting the suction system of the arena into work to clear the smoke, revealing Erek Taylor posed in a crouching stance. Erek mindlessly spins around, the familiar smile on his face.

 

"(Funyon) And their opponent, from Anaheim, California, weighing in at 195 pounds.... the High Flyin' Prince... EREK!! TAAAYYYYYLLOOOORRRR!!!"

 

The Pittsburgh crowd erupts once again, breaking off into a chant of "Erek! Erek!" as the High Flyin' Prince races down the ramp, handing out high fives to the front row fans before sliding into the ring. Fallout makes a move, but the referee steps in between the two high flyers, ordering them to part ways and not begin the match until the Champ arrives. They don't have to wait long, because as soon as the referee steps aside, the Smarkstron begins to go haywire, letting out black and white flashes of Sacred. "Seasons in the Abyss" begins to kick up, drawing countless boos from the fans. Sacred emerges from the back and extends both his arms with the ICTV title belt draped on his shoulder.

 

"(Funyon) And their opponent! From Adelaide, Australia, weighing in at 231 pounds.... he *is* the SWF ICTV Champion!! SAAAACCCCRREEEEEDDDD!!!!"

 

Sacred moves down the ramp slowly, his face showing pure confidence as he finally makes it to the foot of the ring. Sacred slides in and tosses the ICTV title belt aside before occupying the empty corner. The referee presents the ICTV belt to the crowds before handing it out to the timekeeper. Then,

 

***Ding ding ding!!!***

 

...signals for the bell! Fallout wastes no time to get tangled up with his old rival, immediately locking up with Sacred as LDP and Erek do the same. Sacred wrestles for position, and being the stronger one, gets the upper advantage as he twists Fallout into a hammerlock. LDP tries the same move, but Erek spins out of it and sends LDP whipping to the ropes. LDP rebounds, and gets pummeled with a diving dropkick! Taylor pops back up to his feet and brings LDP up as well before shoving the Miami native to the corner and beginning to rain down hard lefts and rights into LDP's face! Fallout does not have that much success, as Sacred successfully applies the hammerlock and whips Fallout to the ropes before he can counter. Fallout rebounds, and Sacred tries to use Fallout's speed, going down for a back body drop attempt. Fallout recovers and rolls over Sacred, holding on to Sacred's ankles tightly before dropping the Champion down into a sunset flip!!

 

ONE!!!

 

 

TWO!!!

 

 

THR- OOOH!! Erek spots the pin at the corner of his eye and lays a forearm across Fallout's forehead to make the save! But the save has left LDP alone, and LDP makes sure Erek pays, moving forward and blindsiding the Prince of High Flyin' with a hard clothesline. The attack stumbles Erek to the ropes, where LDP takes advantage and grabs hold of Erek's wrist before hurling him to the ropes. Erek rebounds and gets clobbered with another clothesline before LDP mounts himself on top of Erek's chest and begins driving down a busload of punches.

 

"(Mark) Erek and LDP going at it, Sacred and Fallout going at it. With so much action, it's too hard to keep track!"

 

"(Riley) That's why I told them to hire the Hville Thugg. He would order everyone to stop so he could do his job...."

 

"(Mark) You know that's impossible."

 

"(Riley) Nothing's impossible.... well, almost nothing."

 

Fallout and Sacred rise to their feets and at the sight of each other, begin to rekindle their feud with hard rights and forearms. Sacred, again, wins this exchange and grabs Fallout by the wrist before hurling him to the corner. Sacred races in, and Fallout frantically sticks up a boot to stop Sacred in his tracks. The ICTV Champion staggers the other way, and Fallout races forward to bring Sacred down with a bulldog! Fallout moves towards LDP, grabbing the Miami native by the hair before dragging him to the center of the ring. LDP bursts up and faces the lightweight with fierce intensity. The Longdoggah swings a hard right, but Fallout ducks under and drives a knee into LDP's midsection, doubling the former SWF Hardcore Champion over. Fallout steps forward and wraps his arm around LDP's head for the DDT but LDP anticipates the move, quickly shooting fast rights into Fallout's gut before ripping himself away from the Clannie's grip.

 

"(Mark) Good strategy by Fallout. He's trying to take out everyone so he can be sure of no interference when he goes for a cover, on whichever opponent he chooses."

 

"(Riley) Good? That's a great strategy!!"

 

Fallout grimaces, but rises back up and takes another LDP hit to the face. LDP moves in, continuing his onslaught of repititive rights as Erek rises to his feet on the other side of the ring, drawing many cheers from the crowds. Erek moves forward, and surprisingly joins forces with LDP as the two start pummeling Fallout with hard rights and lefts. The two grab Fallout by the wrist before hurling the Clannie to the ropes. Fallout rebounds and is helpless as Erek and LDP grab hold of an arm before hoisting Fallout into the air and planting him on the canvas with a double arm drag. LDP looks at Erek, but before any move can be made, Sacred pulls the young flyer down with a schoolboy!!

 

ONE!!!

 

 

TWO!!!

 

 

THR- and LDP makes the save, whether for Erek or for his own skin. LDP angrily shoves Sacred into the corner before swinging a hard right. Sacred blocks it and retaliates with a forearm, sending LDP off balance. Sacred moves forward and delivers another forearm, a third, a fourth before grabbing hold of LDP's legs and tripping him to the ground. Sacred then leans forward, pressing LDP's feet on his hip and initiating the pin!

 

ONE!!

 

 

TWO!!

 

 

THR- and LDP kicks out!

 

"(Mark) Sacred with two pins in the last minute or two. That's his style, he goes for pins quickly and it's worked for him before."

 

"(Riley) Obviously. If it didn't work, how is he the ICTV Champion? Gee, Mark, I thought you were smart."

 

"(Mark) I'm just stating facts for the people at home and our new fans."

 

"(Riley) Oh.... well.... shut up."

 

Sacred bounces right back up, pinning LDP on the floor for another cover, but yet again, LDP kicks out. Erek and Fallout rise to their feets, their eyes locking for a moment before changing to LDP and Sacred. Fallout races forward, and is too quick for Erek, smoothly hoisting Erek into the air and completing the back body drop before racing towards Sacred. Fallout spins, and delivers a heel kick that drops Sacred to the ground! But the Clannie doesn't see LDP, who grasps the opportunity and dives forward, tackling Fallout down with a spear! LDP struggles to mount himself with Fallout wailing and throwing his fists around like a madman. LDP is soon hit with one of those fists and eludes the attacks by backing away. Erek rises to his feet again and sneaks up behind LDP before rolling the Longdoggah up with another schoolboy!

 

ONE!!!

 

 

TWO!!!

 

 

THRE- OOOOH... and LDP shoots his legs forward, kicking out of the rollup. Erek doesn't discourage, grabbing LDP by the hair and bringing him up to his feet. But Sacred and Fallout are both up, and both make a lunge towards Erek. However, the two do not see each other, and collides in a Three Stooges-like crash! The crowds bursts into laughter, and Erek is now panicking, pondering up a quick response as Sacred and Fallout rise to their feets again. Sacred pops his fingers forward, poking Fallout in the eyes, who falls back down holding his face in pain before Sacred engages Erek. The two exchange shots, but Sacred is far too strong and backs Erek down to the ropes. Grabbing Erek by the wrist, Sacred hurls the young upstart to the ropes. Erek rebounds, and immediately gets a big welcome with a Harlem sidekick from Sacred, a move that ignites many boos from the crowds.

 

"(Mark) My my, that was funny. Sacred and Fallout colliding into each other, head first!"

 

"(Riley) I'm not laughing."

 

"(Mark) You don't have a sense of humor."

 

"(Riley) No... you just have a bad sense of humor."

 

Sacred brings the dazed Erek up, lets him dangle a bit before swinging and connecting with a hard forearm. The attack sends Erek off balance and before long, Taylor trips and stumbles out to the apron, where vulnerability is a guaranteed. Erek staggers to his feet, only to get clobbered with an elbow to the face, sending the former LHW Champion crashing down to the outside. Sacred turns, immediately moving towards LDP, who starts to stir. The ICTV Champion brings a knife edge chop down, connecting with LDP's shoulder, but the Longdoggah resists, and bursts to his feet, drawing many cheers from the crowds as he starts pounding on Sacred with repeating hook punches. LDP backs Sacred to the ropes before grabbing hold of Sacred's wrist and hurling him across the ring. Sacred rebounds, and tries for the spear, but LDP eludes the attack and trips Sacred down with a scissor sweep. LDP holds on, wrapping his leg around Sacred's as he mounts himself on the Champion's back. LDP tightens up, and brings Sacred's leg towards the opposite direction, applying the Boston crab! The referee moves into action, asking Sacred for submission but the Champion resists and reaches for the ropes. LDP spots this, and before Sacred can get out of the hold, the Longdoggah pulls Sacred back to the center of the ring before applying the hold once more.

 

"(Mark) Longdogger Pete in charge now, with Sacred in the Boston Crab."

 

"(Riley) What I want to know is, why the hell hasn't the referee started the countout yet?"

 

"(Mark) Normally, he would spot it but seeing as this match has four people, it's hard to know where everyone is."

 

"(Riley) That's why I said to bring down two referees... but noooo..... they never listen...."

 

LDP continues the hold, but not for long as Fallout rises to his feet and moves forward, delivering a kick that frees Sacred from LDP. The Nuclear Weapon, instead of engaging the Longdoggah, mounts himself on Sacred's back and applies the Single crab, preying on LDP's leftovers! The crowds are irate, letting out their emotions as Fallout tries to get Sacred to tap out. Sacred realizes Fallout is much smaller, and with his imposing strength, crawls to the ropes with Fallout on his back. Sacred reaches out, and circles his right hand around the bottom rope, forcing the referee to restrain Fallout. Fallout shoves the referee aside and tries for the Single Crab again, but LDP intercepts the Clannie with an elbow to the face. Fallout staggers back, and LDP moves forward to deliver a kick that petrifies the Clannie right on the spot. LDP grabs Fallout by the wrist and hurls him to the ropes. Fallout rebounds, racing at a high speed forward. LDP anticipates everything, and flings his left arm forward but instead of going for the clothesline, traps Fallout into a sleeper!! LDP crunches his arms together, taking out Fallout's windpipe, causing the Nuclear Weapon to breathe harder than ever as Erek Taylor slowly slides back into the ring.

 

"(Mark) LDP continues his dominance over this matchup, but he is the dark sheep in this case."

 

"(Riley) Why should he be? If anyone should be dark, it should be Erek. Ever since the kid came back, he's been acting as if he owns the joint."

 

"(Mark) I didn't notice."

 

"(Riley) Of course you don't. Sometimes I forget how young you are...."

 

"(Mark) ...right...."

 

The crowds cheer at the sight of LDP taking away Fallout's lungs, cheering even more as Erek makes a move forward, leaping into the air and delivering a dropkick to the back of LDP. LDP is forced to release the hold, allowing Fallout to scurry away, in a hurry to get to the outside. Erek bursts back up and spins LDP around, unleashing a flurry of rights that backs LDP to the corner. There, Erek takes a step back before lashing out once more, this time a hard chop across LDP's chest.

 

"(Crowds) OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOH!!!!!!!!!"

 

SMACK! Erek delivers another hard chop.

 

"(Crowds) OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOH!!!!!!!!!"

 

Erek grabs hold of LDP's wrist and hurls him to the ropes but LDP counters with a whip of his own. Erek comes racing back, right into a LDP clothesline with a sickening thud! The crowds gasp in shock as LDP starts stomping away, grinding his teeth as he continues to amplify damage to the young Erek. Sacred rises back up to his feet and decides to intrude, only to get knocked in the face with a hard uppercut for all his troubles! LDP advances on Sacred and shoves the ICTV Champion into the corner before raising a boot and driving it into Sacred's face!

 

"(Mark) OOOOOOH!! Big boot to the face by Longdogger Pete!"

 

"(Riley) Oh... you're gonna pay for that, Pops."

 

LDP turns his attention back to Erek, and continues his assault, stomping away on the young boy's leg, igniting many boos from the crowds. LDP pushes Erek up to his feet and with the swing of his wrist, clocks Erek with another hard right! Erek limps around, hobbling on his foot as LDP moves back in and delivers a hard chop, returning the favor to Erek for moments ago.

 

"(Crowds) OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOH!!!!"

 

LDP lunges his head forward, crashing his skull with Erek's head and sending the flyer off balance, sending Taylor staggering to the corner. Erek tries to counter attack, but LDP blocks his punch and sends a real one into Erek's chin! Erek staggers, and for that, he gets doubled over by a kick from LDP. The Longdoggah steps forward, hooks the arms of Erek Taylor before hoisting the young flyer into the air...

 

.....

 

and plants him into the canvas with a double armed DDT!! THE LONGDOGGER CLOGGER!!!

 

"(Mark) Clogger!! This could be it, right here!! LDP COULD BE OUR NEW CHAMPION!!"

 

"(Riley) NOOOOO!!!! WAIT!! SACRED'S GETTING UP!!"

 

LDP drops himself on top of Erek, and pulls the young boy's leg up.....

 

ONE!!!

 

 

 

TWO!!!

 

 

 

 

THRE- OOOOOOOHHH!!!!!! SACRED PULLS LDP OFF AT THE LAST POSSIBLE MOMENT!!! LDP pops to his feet, irate and boiling with anger. As he turns, Sacred bounces off the ropes and dives in with a flying forearm, flooring the Longdogger. Sacred hurries to get a cover over Erek, but LDP pulls him off as well. The ICTV Champion gets brought up, and gets popped in the face, courtesy of Longdogger Pete. LDP moves in again and swings another right, but Sacred ducks under and doubles LDP over with a quick jab at the midsection! Sacred swiftly wraps his arm around LDP's head before leaping into the air. Sacred quickly kicks his legs outward before finally driving LDP's head into the mat!!

 

.....

 

.....CRUEL FATE!!! The crowds boo with a purpose as Sacred hooks the leg of LDP while Fallout slowly slides into the ring!

 

"(Mark) CRUEL FATE!! I thought this couldn't get any better!"

 

"(Riley) There we go! You go Sacred! You defend this title to the death!!

 

"(Mark) Here's the count!!"

 

The referee drops down and slaps the mat as loudly as he can, so everyone in the Mellon Arena can hear it...

 

 

ONE!!!

 

 

 

TWO!!!

 

 

 

 

THREE- OOOOOOHHHH!!!!!

 

"(Mark) THREE?! THREE?! NO THREE!! FALLOUT IS THERE!! FALLOUT PULLS SACRED OFF LDP!!! DEAR GOD ALMIGHTY!"

 

"(Riley) NooOOoOOoOoo!!! Fallout, you moron!! Sacred could have won it!! Go back to the Lightweight division!!!"

 

There's a gasp of shock and relief in the air, but they swerve into cheers as they watch two of the most hated men in the federation destroy each other with quick chops and forearms. Sacred with a forearm, Fallout with a chop, both combatants not able to get a clear advantage. Sacred uses the same move he did just moments ago with LDP, ducking under a Fallout punch and delivering a quick jab to Fallout's gut, doubling the Nuclear Weapon over. Sacred steps forward and wraps his arm around Fallout's head, but before he can do any sort of manuever, Fallout launches himself upwards, until the two are in a piledriver setup position! Fallout rips his arms free and slides down Sacred's back before quickly turning around and grabbing both of Sacred's arms!!

 

"(Crowds) S-W-F!! S-W-F!! S-W-F!!!"

 

Fallout twists and turns until he gets Sacred into a front facelock... and just like that, Fallout falls backwards, and drives Sacred's face into the canvas!! MELTDOWN!!!!!!!!

 

"(Mark) I need to take a break..."

 

"(Riley) This better be it because I can't handle another near countout!"

 

"(Mark) It better, so better be it."

 

Fallout rolls Sacred over on his back and crawls over, giving the referee yet another workout with the count....

 

 

ONE!!!

 

 

TWO!!!

 

 

 

 

THREE!-- OOOOOOOHHHH!!!!!! Erek Taylor reaches forward and pulls Fallout off Sacred with his last ounce of strength!! The crowds screams in joy, continuing to watch as both Fallout and Erek rise to their feets. Fallout gives Erek a shove, earning a loud chorus of boos. Erek shoves back and expects Fallout to retaliate in the same way. However, Fallout does one better and brings his palm straight across Erek's face!!

 

"(Riley) HAA!! FALLOUT JUST BITCH SLAPPED EREK! THAT'S LIKE FLASH TELLING SPIDERMAN HE'S A FUCKING NERD!!"

 

"(Mark) You're referring Fallout to Flash? Is he that fast?"

 

"(Riley) Yeah. Not many people like Flash, so there's a similarity."

 

"(Mark) Good call."

 

Erek holds his face, and sharply turns his head back to face Fallout, who grins with satisfaction. Erek suddenly lunges forward, catching Fallout by surprise with a barrage of quick jabs and hooks, the crowds roaring with approval! Erek backs Fallout to the ropes before grabbing the Clannie by his wrist and hurling him to the ropes. Fallout rebounds and Erek stands his position, timing Fallout's entrance as the Clannie races forward. And as the timing comes, Erek bends down, letting Fallout run into Erek's back before the young flyer hoists Fallout into the air!! Fallout holds on to the ropes and miraculously lands on the apron, although losing his balance for a moment. Erek moves towards the downed Sacred and LDP, but before he can even take one step, Fallout reaches forward and grabs Erek by the collar. Erek spins around and at the sight of Fallout, lunges at the Clannie. Fallout breaks away, dropping to the ground and pulling the top rope down with him, causing Erek to trip over and fall to the outside!! Fallout makes a reach for the chair, but the referee slides out in time and begins to struggle with Fallout, forcing the Clannie to drop the weapon or be disqualified.

 

"(Mark) Fallout's mad. He wants to make sure Erek won't interfere again. I mean, Fallout was a split second away from being the new ICTV Champion and Erek just pulled him off!"

 

"(Riley) Haha! Flash is getting cranky...."

 

While the referee is busy trying to separate Fallout's hands with the chair, back in the ring, LDP begins to stir, rolling on to his stomach and pushing himself back up to his feet. LDP scans the area, and sees the staggering Sacred before him. LDP advances on the Champion and swings a hard right.... but Sacred ducks under, and with the referee too busy to notice.... drives an uppercut right into LDP's groin!!! LOW BLOW!!! LDP feels his legs go numb and his hands reach down to comfort his groin, but before he can fall, Sacred drives TWO MORE uppercuts into LDP's groin!! LDP drops like a bag of bricks, his feet kicking madly in the ring while his hands hold his crotch in excruciating pain!!

 

"(Mark) Sacred with the cheap shot!! THREE CHEAP SHOTS WITH THE REFEREE SET ASIDE!!"

 

"(Riley) HAHAHAHAHAHA!! LONGDOGGER JUST GOT A LO' DOGGER!!"

 

Sacred, still feeling the effects of the Meltdown from Fallout, takes a moment to relax before crawling over LDP and hooking the leg. Fallout, on the outside, doesn't drop the chair, threatening to use it as a weapon towards the official. But the referee stands his ground and finally tears the chair away. Fallout looks to the inside, and sees Sacred going for the cover!!! Erek Taylor spots it as well and the two break off in a run back inside, followed closely by the referee. The official just slides a feet in and begins the count...

 

 

ONE!!!

 

 

TWO!!! Erek and Fallout make a lunge towards Sacred, but they trip over one another and fall inches short!! The referee raises his hand in the air and brings it down in one swift motion!

 

 

 

 

THRE- OOOOOHHH!!! LDP kicks out with everything that's left in him!!!

 

"(Riley) How did he? How did he? How did he?!"

 

"(Mark) LDP KICKS OUT!! OUT OF THREE LOW BLOWS!!! WHAT A BREAK FOR EREK TAYLOR AND FALLOUT, WHO TRIPPED AT THE LAST MOMENT AND COULD NOT BREAK UP THE COUNT!!"

 

"(Riley) Sacred!!! NOOOOO!!! YOU MUST WIN IT!!! Take care of those FBI secret agents!!!"

 

"(Mark) FBI?!"

 

"(Riley) I mean... uh, take care of those FBI secret agents!"

 

Sacred reaches for the sky, absolutely appaulled that LDP could even accomplish such a task of kicking out of three low blows!! The roaring applause continues, but soon die down as Fallout and Erek recooperate and bring Sacred up in a hurry. The two join forces, raining down repetitive rights and lefts to the body of the ICTV Champion. Sacred tries blocking, but as soon as he blocks one punch, another comes in, making it almost impossible to fight back. Fallout and Erek grab Sacred by the wrist and hurls him across the ring to the opposite corner. Sacred staggers forward, arching his back in pain as Fallout and Erek races forward.... but Sacred anticipates everything, suddenly swinging both arms forward and flooring both Fallout and Erek with a double clothesline!!

 

"(Mark) That dastardly Sacred!"

 

"(Riley) Why are you calling him that?! It's because he's winning, isn't it?"

 

"(Mark) It's because I can't believe he doesn't show remorse for what he did to LDP."

 

"(Riley) What? Make him a woman?"

 

Sacred drops over the nearest other competitor, in this case, Erek Taylor and immediately goes for the cover.

 

 

ONE!!!

 

 

TWO!!!

 

 

THR- and Erek pops his shoulders up. Sacred brings Erek up in a hurry, but gets affected by the head rush. Erek capitalizes, lashing out and delivering a barrage of hard chops, backing Sacred to the ropes while the crowds responds with the respectable "OOOOH!"s. Erek grabs Sacred by the wrist and sends him whipping to the ropes. Erek advances a few steps forward and arches his back downward, preparing to flip Sacred in the air. But when the young flyer doesn't hear any footsteps, he rises back up and sees Sacred sliding to the outside!! The crowds wonder for a moment, and as the truth dawns on them, they erupt in tremendous boos. Sacred grabs hold of his title belt and heads for the exit!! Up the entrance ramp we go!!

 

"(Mark) You gotta be kiddin' me! Sacred, get back here!"

 

"(Riley) Well, he wants the belt. Can't blame him."

 

"(Mark) If he wants it, he should FIGHT for it! SACRED'S JUST LEAVING! HE'S GETTING HIMSELF DISQUALIFIED SO HE CAN KEEP THE BELT!!"

 

Erek stands there stunned, unable to move his legs. Chants of "Erek! Erek!" begin to erupt, urging the young fighter to chase after his goal. But as soon as Taylor takes a step forward...

a flash, a blur! Fallout rolls out of the ring and makes a run towards Sacred! Fallout races up, and floors Sacred with a clothesline from behind!!

 

"(Mark) I can't believe I'm saying this but... GO FALLOUT!!"

 

"(Riley) I can't believe I'm hearing it...."

 

Fallout grabs Sacred by the hair and drags the ICTV Champion back towards the ring. But Sacred resists, and at moments, pulls away from Fallout's grip to get away from the ring! The referee continues the countout, and at half count, Erek Taylor decides he's got to help, quickly sliding out of the ring and racing towards Fallout and Sacred. Erek delivers a kick into Sacred's gut and grabs hold of Sacred's legs before the two (Fallout and Erek) lift Sacred up by his arms and legs and carries him back to the ring! The fans are in awe, but as soon as the two roll Sacred back into the ring, the alliance ends and the "every man for himself" philosophy sets back in. Fallout slides in first, and immediately pounces on Sacred, attempting the pin.

 

ONE!!!

 

 

TWO!!!

 

 

TH- and Erek pulls Fallout off!

 

"(Mark) Well, that's the end of Sacred's crusade."

 

"(Riley) What? What the hell did you say?"

 

"(Mark) I don't know, I think I was asleep when I said that stupid thing."

 

"(Riley) Well then you must be asleep alot when I'm with you."

 

Erek slithers in, and immediately gets pummeled down with a forearm. Fallout delivers another forearm before bringing Erek back up and hurling him to the ropes. Erek rebounds and Fallout leaps into the air, wrapping his legs around Erek's head before... no! Erek anticipates the manuever and as Fallout wraps his legs around, Erek plants Fallout down on the ground with a rare powerbomb!! Erek races to the opposite ropes before bouncing off and dropping an elbow into Fallout's gut. Erek rises, only to drop down again with another elbow. The other combatants, LDP and Sacred, slowly rise to their feets, both trying to get back in this matchup. LDP staggers towards Erek, and as the youngest of the competitors swings a hard right, LDP catches it from behind and whirls Erek around before decking him with an uppercut!

 

"(Mark) LDP and Erek, going at it. These two haven't been on the best of terms, both launching sneak attacks against the other."

 

LDP delivers another uppercut as Sacred engages Fallout with rolling forearms that backs the Nuclear Weapon to the corner. There, Sacred thrusts his shoulder forward, crashing it into Fallout's gut as LDP grabs Erek by the wrist and hurls him to the ropes. Erek rebounds, and LDP eludes the Prince before picking him up by the side. LDP prepares for the sideslam but Erek thrusts his legs upwards and wraps it around LDP's head! LDP senses it, and quickly runs into the empty corner, using Erek's body as a shield! Erek crumples to the ground but LDP brings him back up in a hurry. LDP delivers a right, a second, a third, and a fourth before measuring him up and beginning to stomp away at Erek Taylor. At the opposite end, Sacred also stomps away before both the ICTV Champion and the Longdoggah grabs their opponent by the wrist and hurl them across the ring! Fallout and Erek race towards each other, forcing both to react as soon as possible. Unfortunately for Erek, Fallout is the quicker of the two and delivers a clothesline to Erek before his momentum carries him into LDP, who greets Fallout with a big boot to the face! Fallout pops right back, only to get hurled into the corner, hard. Fallout staggers forward, dreaming in Wonderland as LDP grabs him by the waist and hoists him into the air! LDP falls backwards and lets Fallout fly before gravity ultimately takes over and pulls Fallout back to the ground.... crashing into Erek Taylor!!!

 

"(Mark) WHOA!! LDP with the belly to belly to Fallout, right on Erek Taylor's body!! That's it, Erek's gone!"

 

"(Riley) YES! YES! YES! YES! YES!"

 

Sacred stands there, wide eyed and all as LDP drops over Fallout and pulls the Nuclear Weapon's legs forward.....

 

 

ONE!!!

 

 

TWO!!! The pin shocks Sacred out of his trance and the ICTV Champion rushes in.

 

 

THRE- and Sacred breaks up the pin with a kick to the backside of LDP's head. LDP rises to his feet, and Sacred engages with him with repetitive forearms before grabbing the Longdoggah by the wrist and whipping him to the ropes. LDP rebounds, expecting an attack by Sacred but instead, finds Sacred eluding him! The momentum carries LDP forward, and the former SWF Hardcore Champion stumbles out on to the apron. LDP rises up, and gets knocked down to the mat below, thanks to a diving forearm by Sacred. Sacred exits the ring, and brings LDP back up before leading the Longdoggah over to the announcers' table. There, Sacred cannons LDP into the side, sending the table sliding down the cement a few inches. Sacred brings LDP up again before cannoning him into the table yet again!

 

"(Mark) You think we might want to get up?"

 

"(Riley) Yeah, I think so."

 

"(Mark) And look at the effects of that belly to belly moments ago, Erek Taylor and Fallout are still motionless after that."

 

"(Riley) What can I say, LDP's real strong."

 

"(Mark) Tell that to Sacred. He's flinging LDP around like a rogue doll."

 

Sacred musters the energy to throw LDP into the table again. His arm now aching, worn out from the match, somehow swings and catches LDP by the forehead. LDP sits at the foot of the table, dazed as Sacred now shifts the attack to low gear, driving hard knees into LDP's body. Back in the ring, Fallout slowly stirs. The Nuclear Weapon, not as badly hurt as Taylor, crawls for the ropes.

 

"(Riley) Well, Fallout's back up. Or... back in his mind again..."

 

"(Mark) Another example of LDP's strength. Fallout can't even stand up."

 

Sacred takes a break from the action, putting his hands on his waist as he catches his breath. The crowds quickly erupt into chants of "Asshole! Asshole!", making Sacred's breather as bad as possible. The ICTV Champion doesn't take it personally though, ignoring the taunts and insults as he scans the area. Sacred finds Fallout trying to pull himself back up to his feet. At this sight, a grin spreads over Sacred, who has had a history with Fallout. Sacred walks by the apron and slyly begins to taunt Fallout before reaching in and pulling Fallout's legs out, sending the Nuclear Weapon crashing back down. The crowds, although have hatred for both these men, scream at the more evil of the two, in this case, Sacred. Sacred, once again, ignores the boos and insults, allowing Fallout to rise back up again before tripping the Clannie back down.

 

"(Mark) Okay, that's just sickening. The arrogant Sacred, playing with Fallout's legs...."

 

"(Riley) Hey, if Fallout was in Sacred's position, he would probably do the same thing."

 

"(Mark) But he's not so we can't assume that."

 

Sacred pulls Fallout out of the ring and decks him with a knife edge chop. But as Sacred prepares for another assault, Fallout lunges forward, thrusting his fist into the temple of Sacred! Sacred stutters, and Fallout capitalizes, leaping into the air and driving a dropkick into Sacred's chest. The ICTV Champion staggers back from the kick, right into a waiting LDP who snaps in the Sleeper Hold around Sacred's throat! Fallout and LDP join forces, and with LDP holding Sacred down with the submission, Fallout moves in to deliver one very loud chop.

 

"(Crowds) OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOH!!!!!!!!"

 

Fallout delivers another chop, and another, and another, and another, giving Sacred chops that seem to last an eternity. The referee urges the three to get back into the ring, and Fallout as well as LDP is forced to obey. Fallout slides in first, followed by LDP rolling Sacred in. Just as that happens, Fallout quickly pounces on Sacred and goes for the cover, right in front of LDP's own very eyes!!

 

ONE!!!

 

 

TWO!!!

 

 

THREE- and LDP pulls Fallout off at the last second!

 

"(Mark) Again, we see an alliance torn away by the match."

 

"(Riley) Hey, this is a FOUR way match, not a tag match. They should expect that."

 

"(Mark) And as LDP brings Fallout back up, Erek Taylor begins to stagger to his feet after that very long rest."

 

LDP pounds Fallout with a fist to the mouth, sending the Nuclear Weapon leaning against the ropes for reinforcements. LDP swings again, but Fallout blocks and rages in with fierce rights and lefts, even delivering quick chops to back LDP to the center of the ring. Fallout bounces off the ropes and quickly leaps into the air... LDP DUCKS UNDER!! Fallout flies over LDP and his flying clothesline goes right into the face of Erek Taylor, sending the High Flyin' Prince falling to the ropes invertedly! Regardless, Fallout rises back up, gets spun around, and gets clobbered by a hook from LDP. Sacred slowly stirs to his feet, and watches as LDP continues his assault on Fallout, backing the Clannie to the ropes. LDP grabs Fallout by the wrist and hurls him to the ropes, where Sacred stands! Acting purely on instinct, Sacred quickly ducks down, pulling the ropes with him, causing Fallout to fall out of the ring and in front of the foot of the announcers' table! Sacred gets no time to act, for as soon as he rises up, LDP engages him with quick rights. Sacred fights back with desperation forearms but LDP uses his strength to overpower the ICTV Champion, and before you know it, Sacred now leans on the ropes. LDP backs up before lunging forward, swinging his massive arm across.... but Sacred ducks, thrusts his body forward and hoists LDP into the air. LDP falls over, but manages to maintain his balance as he lands on the mat. The ICTV Champion expects a breather, but instead, gets pulled out of the ring by LDP.

 

"(Mark) We better get away from this table. I have that feeling again..."

 

"(Riley) Whoa, I think you should be telling that to your wife, dude!"

 

"(Mark) No! Not that feeling!"

 

LDP drags Sacred out and decks him with a hard right, flooring him before turning around and driving a knee into Fallout's face. The Longdogger, obviously in total control, moves over to the table and strips it of its paddings. The crowds rise to their feets, highly anticipating a breakout manuever. LDP tears the monitors away as the referee urges LDP not to go on. LDP ignores the ref, following his own instinct and encouraged by the countless chants of "LDP! LDP!". LDP brings Sacred over and rolls the ICTV Champion on to the table before climbing up himself.

 

"(Riley) Oh, you mean that feeling. Yeah, we better get off."

 

"(Mark) Sacred is at LDP's mercy. This could be it. The end of Sacred!"

 

Fallout staggers, pushing his legs to get up as LDP brings Sacred up on the table and delivers a simple punch. The effects, however, are that of a finisher, for it leaves Sacred dangling near the edge. LDP advances forward and delivers a kick to Sacred's gut, doubling the ICTV Champion over.

 

"CLOGGER!!!" LDP screams at the top of his lungs, and the crowds imitate. LDP wraps his hands around Sacred's arms and pulls it towards himself.... and in an instant, hoists Sacred into the air......

 

"(Mark) Here we go!! THE CLOGGER ON SACRED!!!"

 

Nothing.... LDP stands there and the world looks on in confusion.

 

"(Mark) What happened?"

 

As the camera zooms in, it shows Sacred's teeth clinging on to a nail, which is pushing against LDP's side! LDP stands there, and as the pain sets in, the Longdogger is forced to let go so he can tend to his ribs, which now ooze with blood and continues to do so! The referee investigates, but all he can see is LDP's body bleeding with no evidence to as who did it! He is forced to let the match go on.

 

"(Riley) Hahahahaha!!"

 

"(Mark) Sacred will do anything just to win! He just took a nail from the ground and pierced LDP!"

 

LDP kneels on the table, holding his side in pain as Sacred starts laughing, causing a wave of boos to pour down to the ring while Erek Taylor slowly staggers to his feet. Fallout sneaks up on the table, and with the strongest man in this matchup temporarily disabled, wraps his arm around LDP's head, pulling it down so LDP is looking directly at the ceiling. The Nuclear Bomb takes one breath before falling forward, driving LDP's head through the table with the diving reverse DDT!!!

 

CRAAAAASSSSSHHHHHHH!!!!!!!

 

The crowds gasp in shock as LDP rolls over, the backside of his head now covered with blood and shattered pieces of the table! LDP tries to get up, but his legs give in, his arms give in and LDP falls back down, panting heavily just to stay alive.

 

"(Mark) DDT!!! LDP GOES DOWN, WITH THAT REVERSE DDT BY FALLOUT!!! FALLOUT CAPITALIZES ON LDP!!"

 

"(Riley) MY MUG!!! HE JUST BROKE MY MUG!!!"

 

Fallout staggers to his feet, and moves towards Sacred before grabbing the ICTV Champion by the hair, drawing many cheers from the fans! Fallout looks around, surprised that he would be getting an ovation... then, a flash... inside the ring, Erek Taylor sprints forward before leaping up on the top rope and slingshotting down, knocking both Fallout and Sacred to the ground with a flying clothesline!!

 

"(Mark) And oh my, Erek with the double clothesline off the top rope!!"

 

"(Riley) Damn he's crazy."

 

Taylor staggers to his feet, and dangles about as the crowds break into cheers, all chanting the same words: "S-W-F! S-W-F!". Erek slithers into the ring, and soon, Sacred and Fallout stagger back up and re-enter the ring. The ICTV Champion takes measure of his two remaining opponents, and fights them off with quick chops, each one causing the crowds to give the usual "OOOOH!" response. Sacred knocks them both down with alternating clotheslines before dropping over Erek and going for the cover....

 

 

ONE!!!

 

 

TWO!!!

 

 

THRE- OOOH! Erek kicks out, still some energy left in the High Flyin' Prince's body. Sacred shakes his head, and quickly brings Erek back up in a hurry. Sacred pushes Erek back, laying down a barrage of right and left forearms before grabbing Erek by the wrist and hurling him to the ropes. Erek rebounds and leaps into the air, wrapping his legs around Sacred's head before driving it to the ground with a headscissors takedown! The High Flyin' Prince tries for the cover but Fallout makes a move and pushes him off. Fallout brings Erek up and lashes out, swinging a hard chop across his chest.

 

"(Crowds) OOOOOOOOOOOOOOH!!!!!!!!!!"

 

Fallout grabs Erek by the wrist and hurls him to the ropes. Erek rebounds and Fallout tries for a dropkick. Unfortunately, Erek anticipates the move and slaps Fallout's legs down... just not hard enough, forcing Fallout's legs to hit the dropkick against Erek's own legs. Both men go down, and both competitors crawl to an empty corner as the referee looks at the condition of the remaining three competitors and begins the countout.

 

"(Mark) Well, the referee has no choice but to start the countout with everyone, and I mean everyone, knocked out. Including LDP, who has yet to move after he was hit with the reverse DDT through the table."

 

"(Riley) Uh, LDP, wake up, it's the biggest match of your career and you're letting three younger guys get the best of ya."

 

The crowds get into this matchup, giving the ole three slaps and a stomp encouragement. This Pittsburgh crowd begins to lighten up, chanting "Erek! Erek!" as well as "LDP! LDP!", hoping one of their two heroes of this match to get up. The referee reaches six, and after a minute of anxious waiting, the combatants inside the ring begin to stir, while LDP continues to lay outside.

 

"(Mark) Finally, they're up."

 

"(Riley) My coffee mug is still under LDP!"

 

Erek Taylor, Sacred, and Fallout all rise to their feets at the same time, giving one another dirty looks as they all approach the center of the ring and forcing the referee to stop the countout. Sacred lunges towards Fallout, but changes his mind at halfway and swings his hook across Erek's face instead! Fallout joins forces with Sacred, shooting a barrage of knife edge chops that pushes Erek to the corner. The two continue to beat on Erek, delivering kick after kick as the young flyer begins to wear down, slowly falling to the canvas. And just before Fallout can divert his attention, Sacred decks his former rival with a forearm. Sacred advances and connects with another forearm before grabbing Fallout by the wrist and hurling him to the ropes. Fallout rebounds and instinctively dives into the air, bringing his fist into plain view. Sacred anticipates it and quickly drops to the ground before launching his legs forward, pressing it up against Fallout's chest before launching Fallout into the air!

 

"(Mark) Great monkey toss by Sacred. And it looks like the ICTV Title will not change hands afterall."

 

"(Riley) That's what I've been trying to tell you all this time!!"

 

Fallout holds his back in pain as he staggers to his feet. To his left, Erek slowly pulling himself up. In front, Sacred advancing towards him. Fallout desperately shoots a fist forward, and catches Sacred in the nose. Sacred staggers, allowing Fallout to leap in and deliver a dropkick to Sacred's legs! The ICTV Champion's legs give in, and Sacred falls to the canvas, giving Fallout the sight of victory at last. But before Fallout goes for the pin, he turns to Erek. Erek limps around, his body and soul not in place as Fallout squares up and launches his foot forward.....

 

 

 

....but MISSES the superkick!!! The crowds bursts into cheers as Erek catches Fallout's leg in the air. Erek pushes Fallout, sending the Clannie hopping to the center of the ring.

 

"(Mark) Close one! Erek Taylor almost got hit with the superkick, which could in fact, be his downfall. No pun intended."

 

"(Riley) Oh puh-leeze, you wanted to say that all night! Admit it!"

 

"(Mark) .... okay, yes, I wanted to say that all night."

 

Sacred pulls himself up with the ropes, and watches on as Fallout races back in and delivers a hard kick to Erek Taylor, knocking the young warrior to the corner. Fallout moves in and delivers a hard right hand, a second, a third before grabbing hold of Erek's wrist and whipping him to the opposite corner before breaking into a pursuit himself.... to where Sacred stands!! Sacred sees the opportunity to take out two birds with one stone. The ICTV Champion races forward and swings his right hand... but Erek ducks under and Sacred clobbers Fallout!! The crowds burst into cheers and then erupts as Erek quickly drops down and rolls Sacred up into a schoolboy!!! Taylor hurries to mount himself on top of Sacred's legs, so that his 190 pound body will be placed on Sacred....

 

 

ONE!!!

 

 

 

 

TWO!!!!

 

 

 

 

THREE!!!!

 

 

 

***Ding ding ding!!!***

 

"(Riley) WHAT THE HELL?"

 

"(Mark) Oh my!! Erek Taylor with that fast one!! He rolled Sacred up into a schoolboy and Sacred could not kick out!!"

 

"Downfall" blasts out of the speakers, and as soon as the shock sets in, the Pittsburgh fans erupt in an instant, raising the decibels of the arena up to 100+!!

 

"(Funyon) The winner of this match... and the *NEW* SWF INTERCONTINENTAL TELEVISION TITLE!!! EREK!!! TAAAYYYYYLLLOOOOORRRRRR!!!!!!!"

 

The four competitors that started this match lay battered and disfigured. Each has a story to tell. The referee helps Erek to his feet and drapes the ICTV title on the shoulder of its new owner. The official raises Erek's hand in victory but Erek pulls it back in at the sudden rush of pain. Taylor holds his title proudly as he slides out of the ring and heads to the back, smiling and achknowledging the fans with high fives to the front row.

 

"(Mark) Well, we have a new Champion... Erek Taylor defies all odds and comes out on top."

 

"(Riley) Somebody better get LDP off my mug. He's still lying here."

 

"(Mark) What would you expect? Folks, don't go away, because although this may look like a main event, it's not. Chris Wilson takes on Edwin MacPhisto.... for the SWF Heavyweight Title.... NEXT!! ONLY ON SNAKE EYES!!!"

 

The scene relays one last feed of Erek before the ICTV Champion heads back to the locker rooms. The cameras project a view of the fans, reacting after the ICTV match before fading to black and a SWF sponsor ad pops up.

[Guest BA_Baracus]

We return to the sold-out Mellon Arena in Pittsburgh, PA, to the rockin’ strains of Motorhead’s “Ace of Spades” mingling with the cheers of the capacity crowd! The camera whirls across the arena, catching fans on their feet, cheering riotously as the main event of the Snake Eyes pay-per-view looms just moments away!

 

“And we are set for our main event here in Pittsburgh!” booms Grand Slam Mark Stevens, dressed to the nines in a fine tux for tonight’s announcing duties. “We’ve had a night of amazing action, seeing four title matches, the debut of six new wrestlers to the SWF, and a mess of surprises, and we’re not even close to done, folks!”

 

“That’s right, Mark!” chimes Bobby Riley, sitting by Grand Slam’s side. “Our main event tonight is a long time coming—almost a year in the making, if you’ve been keeping tabs! Two nemeses, two man with an incredible history, with wars in the ring, wars outside the ring, wars of words, fists, and exploding toy stores! Chris Wilson’s promised a big win and a big surprise, and tonight, he finally gets what he deserves—a chance to pry the SWF World Heavyweight Title from Edwin MacPhisto’s grasp!”

 

“Wilson’s certainly going to get what he deserves,” scoffs Stevens, “but what he deserves isn’t the world title: it’s a grade-E ass-kicking, and I’ll be damned if our Mac Daddy isn’t going to deliver it tonight!”

 

“Grade E?”

 

“The E stands for Edwin.”

 

“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever-”

 

“Ladies and gentlemen, it is time for our last match of the night: the Snake Eyes main event!” The booming bellow of Funyon’s voice sounds through the stands, and the crowd cheers wildly! “The following contest is scheduled for one fall, and it is for the Smarks Wrestling Federation World Heavyweight Title! Entering first…”

 

“Ah....Ah ah.....ah....ah ah...ah…”

 

A female voice coos softly over the speakers, and the fans are on their feet in an instant with a wall of boos…

 

“I AM the KING of this city, top down, windows down, puffing like diddy!”

 

The lights in the arena drop out and a wall of fog rolls in off the ramp as “Summer in the City” bumps on, a sharp silhouette cutting a wicked profile behind the fog…

 

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

 

Three huge explosions of orange pyrotechnics go off, illuminating the silhouetted man in brief half-second bursts, and as the St. Lunatics keep on coming, Chris Wilson emerges from the roll of fog, clad in his trademark black cargos and tank top, the thin, silver 13 across the chest. Wilson’s ruby red sunglasses glint under the oncoming lights, and the crowd reaction is tremendous, an utter flood of negativity heading in the direction of the manipulative mastermind.

 

“A little extra punch for this Pay-Per-View entrance from Chris Wilson, who’s looking…ugh…repulsively confident tonight,” murmurs Grand Slam.

 

“He’s got every right to be confident!” snaps Riley, as Wilson begins the long trek down to the ring. “In just one month, Chris Wilson has torn through the SWF! He took apart El Luchadore Magnifico, Fallout, Erek Taylor, anyone that came close to him--”

 

“—except for our world champion!”

 

“Shut up! That was all Thoth’s fault!”

 

“Making his way to the ring,” booms Funyon, cutting off the squabble at the knees, “the challenger, weighing in at 273 pounds, from Miami, Florida, he is one half of the SWF Tag Team Champions…Chris Willllllllllllllllllllllson!” The crowd boos even more loudly at the mention of Wilson’s name, and he climbs into the ring, smirking all the way as he passes his tag title belt, gloves, and shades off to the referee, wagging a finger towards Funyon before snatching the microphone right out of his hands. “Summer in the City” cuts out, and Wilson stands before a veritable army of loyal Carnie fans.

 

“Well, I’m glad to see you’re all so pleased to see me tonight.” Another huge round of boos sounds as Wilson’s dripping sarcasm leaves a mark on the crowd. “What a long, strange trip it’s been, Pittsburgh. Here I am, poised on the edge of my second World Heavyweight Championship, after only a month back in my old haunts…well, I just can’t thank you all enough.”

 

“What’s he talking about?” mumbles Stevens. “I don’t trust Wilson, and I’m not about to start…” The crowd offers up a mixed reaction for Wilson’s strange sentiments, but the manipulator soon clarifies.

 

“I just wanted to thank you all for giving your *undying* support to your favorite son, our world champion—for another 30 minutes, at least—your own personal Jesus H. Christ in camo pants, Edwin MacPhisto!” The crowd gives a huge pop for mention of Edwin’s name, but Wilson’s bitter diatribe resumes course and cuts it quickly. “It’s because of fans like you that Edwin’s been lulled into complacency, and now…” Wilson stops to lick his lips and smirk for a moment.

 

“Paranoia.” He laughs, then continues speaking. “Through all these months that I’ve been gone, you’ve given him the support he needed to rise to the top and crush everyone else underfoot, given him the arrogance to walk down to this ring tonight 100% sure that he’s walking out SWF Champion!”

 

“Arrogance?” shouts Stevens. “Wilson’s bitching about arrogance?!? What I wouldn’t give for one more chance to kick his ass…”

 

“So, Edwin!” snaps Wilson, directing his attention towards the entrance ramp and his own smirking mug on the SmarkTron. “Come on down here with your self-assured attitude, with your confidence, and just brace yourself, all right? Expect the unexpected, Edwin, because the night is still young, and before the evening’s over, you’re going to find yourself feeling…well…probably a little old.”

 

And with that, the lights of the Mellon Arena drop out one more time, and a huge roar erupts from the stands as a light beat drops in! The SmarkTron glows white, illuminating fading silhouettes of a man holding a microphone, his arms raised. From the speakers, a familiar British voice, laced with an intensity that’s becoming increasingly common, floats out amongst the cheers…

 

“Meet the new boss, same as the old boss…Wilson, some things never change. You’re still the same creature you’ve always been, the manipulative slime who preys on minds, bodies, and anything else under the sun just for a kick!” As Edwin speaks, a pair of blue spotlights begin to swing back and forth across the entrance ramp, moving to the steadily climbing beats like a pair of pendulums…

 

“You’re talking about trickery, the unexpected, and let me just say: Chris Wilson, you’re so busy trying to fool me, that you’re about to be fooled yourself! This Mac Daddy has wised up to your games, your scandals, your strokes of so-called genius, and he’s ready. Come on down, Wilson, because the devil’s in town…and if one thing’s for sure…he won’t get fooled again.”

 

“I said HALLELUJAH!” BOOM! The vocals to “Battleflag” drop in just as the blow spotlights collide, ushering forth a huge wall of purple strobe lights, followed by a blinding triple-wall of red and orange pyrotechnics! The first wave of pyro clears, revealing the man himself on the entrance stage, arms pumped at his sides, a Who “Maximum R&B” muscle shirt on his chest, title belt strapped around his waist, and huge grin across his face as he begins to stride down the ramp!

 

“And his opponent, weighing in at 239 pounds, hailing from Amsterdam, England…he is the leader of the Midnight Carnival, and YOUR S-W-F World Heavyweight Champion…Edwin MacPhistOOOOOOOO!” The crowd is on their feet, cheering Edwin as he purposefully strides down the ramp, vinyl trenchcoat flaring behind him. The Mac Daddy’s eyes are affixed on Wilson, leaning up against the rampside ropes, beckoning Edwin to bring it. The Mac Daddy keeps his pace steady and, reaching the apron, flips his coat over the top rope and slides below the bottom, making a grand entrance as Chris Wilson backs off and bounces on the balls of his feet, loosening up as the Mac Daddy unclasps his title belt, passing it off to the referee along with his coat and his own mirrored shades.

 

“Jesus Christ,” mumbles Riley, “these two need their own wardrobe specialists.”

 

“Grand entrances and loaded words for both men,” says Stevens, “but the real test is about to begin! Edwin MacPhisto makes his first Pay-Per-View world title defense against his nemesis, Chris Wilson, and folks: it’s on, right now!” In the ring, the two longtime adversaries size each other up, both men bent slightly at the knees like loaded springs as they begin to circle up. The referee calls for the ball…

 

DING DING DING!

 

And this match is on! Wilson jukes forward and Edwin feints to the left, dodging, and the two men reverse the direction of their circle. Wilson rolls his neck out and gives the Mac Daddy another smirk, but Edwin holds his ground, still circling, taking a tentative step forward and backing off as Wilson steps back to guard. “Wilson and the champ, feeling each other out,” says Stevens, “each man looking for an in to get this contest started.”

 

“Man, you could cut the tension, with, what, a chainsaw?”

 

“Shut up, Riley!”

 

The two men keep circling, the distance between them shrinking as each man becomes more aggressive: Edwin feints a charge to the right and shoots forward instead, but Wilson backs off in time to dodge. The crowd cheers as Edwin grins, confidently taking the offensive and pressing the attack. His mouth moves, undoubtedly slinging a few insults Wilson’s way, and they produce the desired effect—Wilson charges forward and swings a big left hook! The crowd roars as Edwin steps to the side and seizes on the arm, stopping Wilson’s forward momentum and jerking him back in an arm wrench. He twists it around, but Wilson fires a quick boot off at Edwin’s inside leg and takes control of the wrench as the Mac Daddy momentarily falters! “Technical exchange from the two nemeses, and Wilson seems to be getting the better of it!” bemoans Stevens.

 

“Not surprising,” quips Riley. “Edwin’s a hack who’s good with words, and Wilson’s a ring god, baby!” In the ring, Wilson reels Edwin in by the twisted arm and drives another knee into his side, transitioning into a tight hammerlock, then trying to secure the other arm for a double underhook. Wilson gets it…and Edwin stomps out to the side, catching him in the shin! Wilson releases the Mac Daddy to clutch at his leg, and Edwin takes advantage, rearing back and righting Wilson back to a standing position with a powerful palm strike! The crowd cheers for the first shotei of the night, and Edwin rears back and fires another one, taking Wilson square in the chest! Wilson charges forward with a staggering clothesline, but the champion ducks, turns…and leaps, pumping his feet outward and planting a huge pair of boots into Wilson’s chest as he returns!

 

“Marvelous standing dropkick from the Mac Daddy!” shouts Stevens. Wilson hits the mat and scrambles back to his feet, frustrated, just in time to eat a running leg lariat from the Mac Daddy, who blows on by and ends up in the corner! An irate Wilson turns to see a vulnerable Edwin, and he charges forward, unable to slow himself as Edwin rolls out along the ropes! Wilson crashes into the ringpost chest-first, and as he wobbles, the world champion snakes a rear waistlock and lifts, bringing Wilson up, back, and down with a crushing German suplex! Wilson falls away and clutches at the small of his back, and Edwin hooks the leg for a cover to a thunderous round of cheers!

 

ONE!

 

TWO—and Wilson gets a comfortable kickout. “Smooth German suplex from Edwin, certainly not enough to put Wilson down,” comments Stevens, “but maybe enough to shut him up for a while!” Edwin pulls Wilson back to his feet, but the master manipulator shoves him away and scores a quick shoulder charge! Wilson slams a heavy right fist into Edwin’s face, then one from the left, then grabs his arm and steps forward, whipping him across the ring. Edwin bounces back and Wilson charges to meet him, surprising the Mac Daddy halfway with a big clothesline. Edwin goes down like a sack full of bricks, while Wilson bounces himself against the nearby ropes and returns with a nasty kneedrop right across Edwin’s chest! Wilson doesn’t bother with a cover, instead pulling Edwin up by his loose hair, disabling him with a knee to the gut, then flipping him forward and down with a snapmare before locking a tight choke onto the seated champion!

 

“Attaboy, Wilson! If he can’t breathe, he can’t fight!” Riley roots Wilson on as he thrashes away at the champion, the hunger for the title gleaming in his eyes. Edwin starts to slack and sputter, and Wilson immediately releases the choke and pulls him back to his feet, firing off another kneelift to double Edwin over. Wilson grabs Edwin’s arms in a double underhook, poses for a moment, then lifts Edwin up and falls back to score a double-arm DDT! “Wilson persisted, and this time he scores the DDT! There’s his first cover of the night!” The referee dives to the canvas to count…

 

ONE!

 

TWO—and Edwin gets a shoulder up, shaking out his head! He pulls himself back up to this feet, but Wilson keeps the pressure on, hammering him with punches as he tries to stand. Edwin fires off a snap kick in an attempt to buy some time, but Wilson brushes the oncoming leg aside, grabs Edwin by his lapels, and throws him into the nearby corner! Wilson hammers away at Edwin with violent lefts and rights, beating him down with blow after blow! The crowd boos wildly as Wilson hammers away, pounding Edwin into the corner, then backing off as the Mac Daddy slumps against the post. “Wilson lets off for a second—and here he comes again!” calls Stevens. Wilson charges forward and leaps, crushing a defenseless MacPhisto into the corner with a solid Stinger splash! Edwin staggers forward, and Wilson quickly laces his arm through the champion’s legs and rolls forward! “Schoolboy, schoolboy!” shouts Riley! The ref drops to count, and the crowd panics!

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

TH—Edwin kicks out and breaks free! “Too close for comfort there,” comments Stevens, “and the crowd is feeling it!” Indeed they are—moments after the pinfall attempt, a loud chant starts up!

 

“WILSON SUCKS! WILSON SUCKS!”

 

“Original chant, those ingrates,” snaps Riley. In the ring, a slightly disappointed Wilson takes a breath and pulls Edwin up off the mat, only to punch him stiff in the jaw and throw him right back down again! Edwin lands flat on his back, and Wilson looks down at him, then to the corner before taking a rare trip up to the ropes! Wilson steps on to the second rope, contemplates jumping…and eying Edwin’s exposed throat, pulls himself up to the top rope! The crowd boos, and a cocky Wilson shuns the fans with a dismissive wave of his hand!

 

“Wilson’s up top for the guillotine legdrop! Edwin’s gotta move!” shouts Stevens. Wilson sizes Edwin up, then leaps, extends his right leg…

 

…and lands on the mat hard as Edwin rolls under the bottom rope and out to the apron! “Yes!” shouts Stevens. “Wilson went for too much too soon heading to the top rope, and Edwin got out of the way!” The “WILSON SUCKS” chant evolves into a bold “MAC-PHIST-OOOOO!” call, and Wilson staggers back to his feet, favoring his just-impacted right leg a little. On the apron, Edwin brushes himself off and stands…and Wilson charges forward with a clothesline, looking to send the champ to the outside! Wilson charges…

 

…and Edwin ducks! Wilson crashes into the ropes, and the Mac Daddy suddenly pops back up, snags his head, and sits out on the ring apron! Chris Wilson’s neck snaps over the ropes and he sails backwards like he’s just eaten high-tension wire! The crowd is on fire! “Hangman counter from Edwin, what a move!” cries Stevens. “Can the champion capitalize?” Wilson is down in the center of the ring, clutching at his neck and kicking his feet in a pained temper-tantrum! Edwin quickly gets to the top rope, the same turnbuckle from whence Wilson launched his failed legdrop, pumps his fist high, and leaps out towards the downed Wilson to connect with an amazing flying bodypress! Edwin bounces off of Wilson on impact, but he quickly scurries back to hook the leg!

 

ONE!

 

TWO—and Wilson kicks out aggressively, pushing himself up to one knee and hammering Edwin in the face with a heavy left hand as he tries to right himself! Edwin takes the blow, and Wilson swings another unwieldy shot, but this time the Mac Daddy drops into a back roll to dodge. Wilson clambers back to his feet and dashes in, but Edwin catches him with a drop toehold! Wilson angrily shoves himself back up, turns…and walks right into a ladder-laced Doc Marten and a springing sidekick! Edwin’s leg broadsides the challenger and the Mac Daddy drops for another cover!

 

ONE!

 

TWO—another kick out from the challenger! “Wilson keeps kicking out, but Edwin’s keeping the pressure on!” calls Stevens. “If Wilson’s got any so-called surprises for tonight, I’d say now would be a good time for him to bust them out, because he’s getting hammered in there! Woo hoo!”

 

“I’ve said it once, Mark, and I’ll say it again: get a life! You sit here cheering on your goofy little ex-sidekick, completely ignoring the fact that he’s been holding down the entire fed on his way to the top. When are you and the rest of this crowd going to just wake up?”

 

“When Wilson puts his money where his mouth is and proves that he isn’t just a manipulative piece of crap?”

 

“Optimists, what the hell…get real, Stevens. This is Chris Wilson. Tonight, he’s going to prove that Edwin’s just been keeping the belt warm for him, and he’s gonna whoop his ass just like he whooped yours back at Apocalypse!” Stevens simmers on that, and in the ring, Edwin pulls Wilson back up and tries for a headlock, only to take an elbow to the gut and a shove away. Edwin goes for the headlock again and locks it on weakly before Wilson grabs a hold of him and stops him in his tracks. The Master Manipulator, having almost 40 pounds on Edwin, has no problem breaking out of the headlock, lifting him up, and dropping him tailbone first across his knee with a brutal atomic drop! Edwin falls away and Wilson picks him again, not even wasting time with punches, pulling him right into a standing headscissors, locking his arms around Edwin’s waist for a gutwrench…and getting a backdrop for his troubles!

 

“Wilson stalls the Midnight Special bulldog, but Edwin scores a backdrop and blocks the gutwrench powerbomb—no, sunset flip, sunset flip!” Stevens shouts as Wilson snags Edwin’s legs out of the backdrop and pins his shoulders to the mat! The referee drops down!

 

ONE!

 

 

TWO!

 

 

TH—no, Edwin gets a shoulder up and explodes out of the cover! “Another close call for Edwin, as Chris Wilson sneaks a reversal out of a reversal out of a reversal! My head’s starting to spin here!” says Stevens shakily. Wilson lifts his fist high and looks to pummel down on the still prone Edwin, but the Mac Daddy rolls out to the side and gets to his feet, leaving the master manipulator to punch canvas! There’s a brief pause as Wilson clambers up off the mat, and then suddenly both men burst forward to a huge pop, swinging furious fists all the way! One punch cracks Wilson’s jaw, then two, then three, but he fights through and comes back at Edwin with one, two, three, four of his own! He winds up for a big haymaker and swings, but Edwin drops to his knees and spins, firing a sharp back elbow right into Wilson’s gut! “Edwin gets under Wilson’s fist and counters, and now he’s on the attack!” The man from Miami doubles over and Edwin hops back to his feet, threading a quick front facelock before floating over and down to drill Chris Wilson with a stiff DDT! The drop hits Wilson hard, but he rolls out and sits up, shaking the move off as best he can, rubbing his eyes—

 

WHAM.

 

“Shining Wizard, holy god what an impact!” The crowd pops huge as Edwin momentarily channels Muta and powers forward to slam a running knee right into Wilson’s jaw! The challenger collapses after the second consecutive stiff blow to the head, and the champion drops for the cover! “Two shots to the skull, and our champion might have just sewn up the win tonight!”

 

ONE!

 

 

TWO!

 

 

TH—no, Wilson kicks out with a gasp of breath! “See that!” shouts Riley. “Wilson’s got amazing resistance! He’s not gonna take the fall for a bitch like Edwin!”

 

“Say what you want, Riley,” retorts Stevens, “but face facts: Wilson’s sucking wind in the ring right now, and Edwin’s pressing the advantage!” The Mac Daddy pulls Wilson up after the pinfall attempt and shoves him a short distance into the ropes, following with a sharp snap kick to Wilson’s right thigh, then another to the left thigh, another to the left knee, left knee, right knee, right knee, right thigh—Wilson’s right leg gives out—another shot to the left knee—and the left collapses, leaving him clutching at the ropes for balance! With Wilson off-kilter and unable to adequately defends himself, Edwin grabs an easy headlock, pulls him off the ropes, and takes two running steps forward as the crowd cheers uproariously! Edwin leaps, spins, and sits out, bringing his knees up and Wilson’s head down to connect with the crowd-pleasing, cranium-cracking bulldog/facebuster combo! “Midnight Special!” calls Stevens. “Wilson took the brunt of that square on the skull, another shot to the head—and here’s Edwin with the cover! Come on, champ!” The referee drops in as Edwin hooks the leg!

 

ONE!

 

 

TWO!

 

 

THR---no, Wilson kicks out again! “Wilson kicks out again,” says Stevens, “but a little less quickly than last time! Could Edwin actually be wearing the evil genius down?”

 

“It doesn’t matter if he wears him down!” cries Riley. “Wilson’s always got something up his sleeve!”

 

“His arm?”

 

“No!”

 

“…Wilson doesn’t have arms?”

 

“No—I mean, yes, I mean—aaaagh!”

 

“Heh. Being a commentator is cool.”

 

Still eager off the Midnight Special and apparent momentum shift, the Crown Prince of Flash and Panache gestures out to the crowd with a grand flourish, cupping his ear with his hand, waiting for it…waiting for it…

 

“MAC-PHIST-OOOOO! MAC-PHIST-OOOOO!”

 

And that’ll do! Edwin gives a hearty double-thumbs-up to the fans, then bends over to pull Wilson up—and Wilson rakes his fingers across Edwin’s eyes! “Ouch,” snickers Riley, “the fan favorite and his attention-whore ways get bit in the ass. And the eyes.” Edwin shields his face, and a rising Wilson takes the opportunity to drive a sharp elbow into the back of the Mac Daddy’s neck! Edwin stumbles and comes back with a punch, but Wilson easily blocks it, whipcracks a forearm of his own right into Edwin’s prominent jaw, then seizes on his right arm and steps forward to whip the Mac Daddy across the ring! The champ bounces off at high speed, but steamrolling towards as he bounces back is a leaping Chris Wilson, leading with a big flying knee! Edwin tries to put on the brakes, but he can’t dodge quickly enough, and he takes the full brunt of Chris Wilson’s ‘Rim Rocka’ right on the chest! The Carnie slams back again the ropes, hooking his arms around the top one to hold himself up, and Wilson comes back around, barreling forward and leaping with his second Stinger splash of the night. Unfortunately for Wilson, the Mac Daddy is still alert, and he pulls his feet up off the mat just in time for boot sole to meet Wilson face and block the splash!

 

“Wilson gets a flying knee and goes for another Stinger splash, but Edwin stops him in his tracks!” Wilson comes to dead stop and staggers, and as he falters, Edwin lunges forward with his right hand and slaps Wilson briskly across the cheek!

 

“WOO!”

 

The crowd cheers…and Edwin comes back with another slap from the left! “Cocktail O’ Shame!” shouts Stevens. “Drink up, Wilson!” Edwin pulls back for a shotei to finish, but in a flash he thinks better of it, pauses…and lunges forward again slapping Wilson across the cheek once, twice, thrice more! The crowd goes nuts, and Edwin rears back with the left palm! One, two, three more shots to the left cheek, and finally satisfied, Edwin rears back for the penultimate blow. “It’s an octuple bitchslap, folks, and Edwin’s lined up for the final shot!” Edwin thrusts his palm forward, heading straight for Wilson’s face, only to find Wilson’s hands clamping down hard on the incoming strike! Staring bloody death into Edwin’s eyes, an enraged Wilson tightens his hold on the arm and steps for a whip, but Edwin plants his feet and reverses the whip, sending Wilson soaring across the ring! Wilson hits the ropes and returns, but Edwin’s waiting for him with a catch—spinebuster! The crowd pops as Wilson’s back thunders against the mat from the quick counter, and as Edwin stands over Wilson and grabs his waist, that pop goes funky-monkey apeshit!

 

“Come on, Wilson! Get it together!” cries Riley. Edwin pulls Wilson up, lifting his stunned form to bent, then powering up, flipping him around in the air, and dropping to his knees to crush Wilson with a snap powerbomb and complete the Love Rollercoaster!

 

“Love Rollercoaster!” shouts Stevens! “Love Rollercoaster! Wilson is down, dazed after a heavy assault from the last few minutes, and—yes, Edwin’s setting it up! I can’t wait!” The Mac Daddy pulls Wilson back to his feet, grinning widely as he gets himself back to back with the Miami Mastermind, hooking his right arm through Wilson’s left, his left through Wilson’s right—

 

“So you wanna be a rock superstar, and live large, big house, five cars, rent charge…”

 

--and letting the Encore Cross slip away as “Rock Superstar” blasts and the other half of the tag team champions appears at the top of the ramp!

 

“Coming up in the world, don’t trust nobody, gotta look over your shoulder constantly…”

 

“What the…” mumbles Stevens, as the crowd murmurs. “What the hell is Stryke doing out here?” Stryke starts to strut down the ramp, and Edwin takes a step away from Wilson and points an accusing finger at the incoming Aussie, but suddenly his knee collapses as Chris Wilson slings a mule kick back into Edwin’s legs! Edwin falters, eyes still on Stryke, and Wilson throws on a fast ¾ facelock before leaping forward and laying Edwin out with a fierce diamond cutter! “No! No!” shouts Stevens! “Stryke’s entrance—it distracted Edwin! He let up on the Encore Cross! Wilson’s right hand man just turned this match around, god dammit! It all happened so fast!” The crowd is awash with boos at the trick!

 

“All in a second!” cackles Riley. “I told you, Stevens—pure genius!” On the mat, Edwin curls up and clutches at his neck, cursing his luck as Wilson smirks and shoots a satisfied nod in Stryke’s direction! The master’s young apprentice makes his way down to ringside and stands at the apron, looking inward but keeping his hands off the ring. “Pure diversionary tactic—have I mentioned pure genius?”

 

“Pure thievery, that’s more like it…”

 

The crowd agrees, and they let Wilson know:

 

“CHEA-TING PUSS-Y! (clap, clap, clapclapclap) CHEA-TING PUSS-Y! (clap, clap, clapclapclap)”

 

Wilson just smirks, oh-so-satisfied as his little plan comes to fruition, and he starts to beat on Edwin with savage stomps, brutally pounding away at his prone body as Stryke cheers him on from ringside. Wilson pulls Edwin up to his knees, rears back…and drills him with an uppercut, knocking him right back to the mat! Edwin tries to crawl away and make the ropes, but Wilson catches some twisted strands of hair, pulls him up again…and fires off another uppercut to floor the Mac Daddy! “Stryke’s entrance threw Edwin off, and now Wilson’s taking him apart—that must have been Wilson’s little surprise for the night! That bastard!” Stevens continues to conjure conspiracy theories as Edwin takes a beating fit for a crown prince inside the ring, suffering continued stomping and lifting uppercuts. Wilson finally lets him reach the ropes and pull himself up, only to charge in with a lowered shoulder. Edwin stumbles again, and Wilson grabs him by the back of the neck, pressing Edwin’s throat down over the ropes and choking him out! “Sick tactics from Wilson—he can scheme, but does he have to use illegal methods too?”

 

“He’s got to the count of four! Quit bitching!” The ref counts!

 

“One!”

 

“Two!”

 

“Three!”

 

“Four!”

 

…

 

And Wilson keeps on choking Edwin!

 

“Okay, commence bitching…now. Heh heh heh.” Riley snickers and the ref finally pulls Wilson off, but Wilson plays the gentleman, sarcastically apologizing before rearing back and pounding a huge fist right into Edwin’s face and flooring him entirely. Having too much fun with the beating to bother a cover, Wilson pulls Edwin up straight into a standing headscissors, then gutwrenches him up over his shoulders, holding the limp Mac Daddy there as he eyes the corner. Wilson steamrolls ahead, 240 pounds of world champ on his shoulders, and brings Edwin down over the turnbuckle with a sick corner powerbomb! The entire ring shakes from the impact and Edwin cries out, and Wilson maintains the hold, backing off and eying the corner again! With Stryke egging him on, Wilson charges forward, but this time Edwin shoves up off the shoulders and slips out! The Crown Prince flips forward over Wilson’s head and lands on his feet, barely keeping his balance as Wilson turns…and walks into a tremendous jumping roundhouse kick to his face!

 

“Amazing escape and gamengiri from Edwin MacPhisto!” cheers Stevens, and the crowd lets out a roar! Wilson stumbles back into the corner and Edwin launches himself forward with as strong an avalanche as he can muster, sandwiching Wilson’s flesh and bone between himself and the steel! Without hesitation, the Mac Daddy hops up onto the second ropes and pulls back his left fist, waving to the crowd momentarily before bringing it down into Wilson’s face! Edwin rears back again, and the crowd counts along as the champ pounds away!

 

“ONE! TWO! THREE! FOUR! FIVE! SIX! SEVEN! EIGHT--”

 

“WATCH ME EXPLOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOODE!”

 

“What the hell?!?!?” Again Mark Stevens is dumbfounded, and the entire arena’s gaze, Edwin included, turns to the ramp as AC/DC’s “TNT” blares through the speakers! The namesake wrestler of the song, thick dreads masking his impressive form, comes stalking down towards the ring, a huge grin on his face! “That’s Taylor Nicholas Thompson, AKA TNT!” shouts Stevens! “One of the newest members of the SWF—and another distraction fo--LOOK OUT EDWIN!” Stevens tries to play equalizer with a loud shout, but as Edwin stares down the approaching Thompson, Chris Wilson takes the opportunity to shove Edwin off of him and dive as Edwin hits the mat shakily, snagging the leg and rolling Edwin up! The ref drops down and the crowd is panicked, not knowing where to look!

 

ONE!

 

 

TWO!

 

 

THREE—no, Edwin bursts out of the tight schoolboy at the last second! Wilson stands, and he looks out of the ring momentarily…to see TNT exchange a high-five with Stryke! Wilson gives TNT a nod, and the massive rookie takes his place on one of the unoccupied sides of the ring! “Wilson had another man waiting back there in case he got into trouble,” mutters Stevens, “and Taylor Nicholas Thompson just bailed Chris Wilson out of another bad situation! Wilson’s apparently recruited TNT—god dammit, he’s using decoys, Riley!”

 

“I know! Isn’t it great?”

 

“No! It’s awful! This match should be decided based on the merits of the men in the ring, not who can come up with the better plot to trick his way to a world title!”

 

“Come off it, Stevens!” rails Riley. “Wilson’s brain is just as much a part of him as his brawn, and he’s got an amazing plan! This is as logical an extension of the mindgames he’s been dominating Edwin with since his return as I could imagine—get in his head out of the ring, and get in it in the ring too! And what a choice to add to his team—the longest reigning TV champion of all time, one of the most literally explosive athletes to come through the SJL in recent history, TNT! I’m giddy, Mark!”

 

“I bet you are…”

 

In the ring, things are heating up. Wilson pulls Edwin back to his feet, and the crowd is solid boos now, barely a glimmer of gleeful cheer escaping the pissed-off disposition of the fans, who are no doubt feeling just as duped as Edwin. The Mac Daddy shoots a quick glance to Wilson’s two teammates at ringside before Wilson blacks out his vision with a big fist. Chris Wilson pulls Edwin in close and drives a fazing knee into his gut, staggering the Brit before him even further. Wilson throws an arm across Edwin’s chest, then laces his own right leg through Edwin’s right, and the crowd roars with disapproval! “Last Resort!” shouts Riley, but before Wilson can pop off the deadly Downward Spiral, Edwin unhooks his leg and shifts his weight forward, looking to counter with an uranage of his own—no, before Edwin can slam Wilson down, the challenger shoves Edwin away with impressive force, spinning Edwin around and sending him skidding away. With a shout, Wilson points past Edwin and calls something to Stryke, who carefully produces what looks like a small walkie-talkie from his pants pocket! He brings it to his lips and then quickly hides it away, but not before Stevens gets an eyeful!

 

“Edwin just blocked one of Wilson’s finishers, but it might not do him much good, because Stryke’s sending messages! He’s coordinating these distractions for Wilson—christ, he thought of everything! I can’t believe it!”

 

“Believe it, Stevens! Fool Edwin once, shame on Wilson…”

 

Edwin starts to turn back towards Wilson, a look of fury and purpose overcoming his green and yellow eyes…

 

“Fool Edwin twice, shame on Edwin…”

 

…when suddenly “Cities On Flame With Rock ‘N Roll” by the Blue Oyster Cult erupts from the speakers! Again the crowd turns their attention towards the ramp, and Edwin snaps his head around to investigate—

 

CRACK! And Wilson drives his boot into the back of the distracted champion’s head with a blazing superkick!

 

“Fool Edwin three times…god-damn, Wilson is good!” As Edwin collapses to the mat, he sees through blurry vision the appearance of an Icelandic giant at the top of the ramp, stomping his way down the ramp emotionlessly!

 

“It’s Frost! It’s Frost!” Bobby Riley marks out hard as the fans send huge volleys of confused and shocked boos at everyone but Edwin! “Frost, fresh off a big debut win in his tag alongside Thoth, has joined up with Chris Wilson! Can you believe this, Stevens? In just three minutes, we’ve seen the ranks of Wilson’s team double! This is great!”

 

“This is awful!” cries Stevens. Frost stalks his way down to ringside, and an eager and excited TNT gives him a big leaping pat on the back before letting Frost walk on by and take his post on another free side of the ring! “They’ve got Edwin surrounded, and Wilson just superkicked him in the back of the head! Where’s the Carnival when you need them?”

 

And as if on cue, the SmarkTron lights up with a camera angle from backstage, where Chris Raynor and El Luchadore Magnifico go charging down the hall! The crowd gives a huge pop for the cavalry! “Mag, let’s go!” shouts Raynor. “Edwin needs—holy shit, look!” The two skid to a stop as they come to the fallen form of Johnny Rotten, ex-deputy commish, current Carnie, and current victim to a blow to the head, apparently from a discarded link of thick, iron chain by his side!

 

“Holy frijole, mi amigo!”

 

“Who the hell uses a chain--” And suddenly, a broad figure crashes into Raynor from off-camera, driving him into the wall! Magnifico turns to attack the assailant, but another figure, this one thin and wearing a ski mask, darts in from off-screen and takes him down with a lightning fast spin kick to the temple! The broad figure lifts Raynor up…and delivers a huge folding powerbomb onto the backstage floor!

 

“That’s the way, Danny! Break him!” shouts the masked figure!

 

“WHAT? It’s ‘Deathwish’ Danny Williams!” shouts Stevens, in an absolute uproar as the first attacker is revealed. “This is like the baptism and assassination scene in the Godfather, but without the Nina Rota musical score! Wilson’s goons are everywhere, and they just took out Edwin’s back-up!”

 

“The amazing JL world champion—and some guy in a ski mask! This is great!”

 

“There’s one more out there,” shouts Danny Williams. “The new one.” He scowls. “Z.” The crowd pops at the mention of the newest Midnight Carnival member, but the sharp intonation of Williams’s companion cuts off the cheers.

 

“Good. Go find him. I’ll catch up.”

 

“I know that voice,” whispers Stevens, coming to a realization. “I tagged with that voice…” As Williams runs off-camera, the masked man looks up to the mounted camera…and pulls off the mask.

 

“Well I’ll be damned!” beams Riley.

 

“Hey, Edwin,” snickers Tyler McClelland. “Miss me? Hope you’re having fun out there. The fun’s going to stop soon, Edwin. Chris Wilson, Stryke, TNT, Frost, and my newest piece of work, Danny Williams…we’re the future of this league, and there’s nothing you can do about it. See you in a bit, Mr. Hold-Me-Down…”

 

“It’s Outcast! The Prophet! Tyler McClelland! My old buddy!” snickers Riley, as the former Prophet charges off-camera after Danny.

 

“The man Wilson almost killed a year ago, now back to fight by his side, apparently united by some common grudge…and with Danny Williams as his charge! We saw the two of them earlier tonight, and it looks like Williams bought into whatever McClelland was selling! This is total chaos—four new men fighting on Wilson’s side! This doesn’t look good for Edwin—Wilson’s still stomping away at him in the ring! Listen to Wilson laugh, Riley! He knows he has this one sewn up—hell, how could he not? He has a frickin’ army running around the arena on his behalf!”

 

In the ring, Wilson pulls Edwin up, going for a full-nelson and the Platinum Nightmare, but an ailing Edwin fires an elbow back into Wilson’s temple, breaking the hold and letting him dash away. Around the ring, Frost, TNT, and Stryke all pace, and Edwin’s nerves are taking a beating. He desperately charges Wilson with a clothesline, but Wilson easily ducks the telegraphed move and counters with a stiff haymaker. Edwin charges in again, frantically trying to get a rear waistlock, but Wilson elbows out into another full-nelson, this time bridging backwards and crushing Edwin’s whole body with an earth-shattering Dragon suplex! “Dragon suplex,” sighs Stevens. “This doesn’t look good…in fact, it looks awful. Edwin’s blowing moves left and right, and I can’t blame him—he’s surrounded, outnumbered, and pinned down!”

 

And then, suddenly, the SmarkTron reilluminates, and it shows one shining, glimmering ray of hope.

 

That ray of hope is drinking a slurpee, and that ray of hope’s name is Z.

 

“Hey, did you guys see the dancing bear—holy moses!” The newest member of the Carnival stumbles upon the rest of the Carnival and, overcome with shock, drops his slurpee! “What the heck happened to you guys?”

 

“Wilson…” mumbles Raynor. “Help…Edwin…”

 

“What? What? Me? I just got here!” Z, having a mild panic attack, looks up at one of the backstage monitors. He watches open-mouthed as Wilson hits Edwin with a second dragon suplex in the surrounded ring. “Oh, man…”

 

Z looks down at his newfound, fallen comrades, then back at the monitor.

 

“Here goes nothing…” And with that, Z is off like a shot, charging out of the camera’s view!

 

“Z! Z’s on his way!” shouts Stevens. “Outcast and Williams are on the hunt, but if Z gets out here first, he’ll--”

 

“He’ll what? Fall over? Mark, do you even watch the JL?”

 

“Well, no, but…”

 

“I rest my case. Z’s a klutz at worst, and a dope at best!” Back in the ring, Wilson kicks Edwin after the second dragon suplex, rolling him onto his back before stepping onto his chest with one foot and flexing his arms in an arrogant cover!

 

“This is a joke…”

 

ONE!

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

TH—no, Edwin kicks out, but Wilson drives a boot into his face right as he gets the shoulder up! Frost and TNT continue to hover around the ring like vultures as Stryke shouts encouragement to Wilson, advice along the lines of “gut him!” and “filet him!” Edwin tries to get back to his feet, but as the Mac Daddy crawls on his hands and knees, Wilson lobs a toe kick into his gut to bring him back down again. Edwin pushes up off the mat and charges forward, looking for a desperation dragon screw legwhip, but Wilson just steps aside and grabs Edwin by the hair, yanking him upward violently. He spits a few discouraging words at Edwin before headbutting him square in the jaw and taking him back into position for the Last Resort—no, Edwin retaliates with a headbutt of his own! Another! And another! The crowd starts to rally, and outside the ring, Wilson’s troops start to stir, giving the referee a minor panic attack as he tries to keep tabs on everyone. Wilson staggers away from Edwin, and the Mac Daddy runs the ropes, coming back towards Wilson with a clothesline…and connecting! Wilson takes a wicked 360 bump and Edwin turns back—but TNT pulls out his feet, dropping the Mac Daddy into a nasty faceplant! The referee, dealing with Stryke at the moment, misses it entirely, and the crowd gets on him for that with a barrage of boos! Wilson gets back up and stalks Edwin again, pulling him up by the hair one more time—and a battered Edwin swings a desperation right hook, and connects!

 

“Edwin gets another shot in—he’s not giving up!” cries Stevens! Wilson pounds away at Edwin, pressed up against the ropes, and Edwin takes punch after punch, wobbling, bleeding slightly from the mouth, barely standing. Wilson rears back for a final knockout punch, rockets his arm forward…and Edwin bats it away and fights back with a right hand jab! Another! Another! The crowd rallies behind the champion as he hammers away, and Wilson lunges forward RIGHT INTO AN INVERTED FACELOCK! Edwin plants his feet and gets ready to jump! “SOUND CHECK! Edwin’s gonna roll the dice!” Edwin jumps—and Wilson shoves him off and away, aborting the desperation maneuever and sending Edwin chest first into the nearby ropes! The crowd roars as Edwin bounces off, turns…

 

…and the crowd deadens entirely as Edwin walks right into a carefully concealed low blow from Wilson’s knee! The staggering Mac Daddy stumbles right into Wilson’s grasp, and Wilson catches him, hooks his leg with his own, and falls backward to drill Edwin with the stiff downward spiral!

 

“LAST RESORT! LAST RESORT!” squeals Bobby Riley! “New champ! New champ!”

 

“Not like this! Not like this!” shouts Stevens! The referee drops down to count as Wilson hooks the leg!

 

ONE!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

TWOOOOOOO!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!

 

…

 

NO! THE REFEREE STOPS THE COUNT! “HIS FOOT! HIS FREE FOOT! EDWIN GOT HIS FOOT ONTO THE ROPES!” shouts Stevens! The crowd explodes as the referee points to the offending foot, waving off the count, and Wilson has an absolute fit! The mastermind stands, leaving Edwin laying as he gets in the referee’s face, shouting and shoving as the striped shirt holds up two fingers and keeps pointing to the ropes! Edwin starts to come to, shaking off the impact of the Last Resort, and outside the ring, Wilson’s stablemates are in a panicked conference! TNT starts to dive into the ring, but Stryke gets in his way and talks him down! “They’ve got to hold back! Stryke’s not going to blow Wilson’s shot at the title on a DQ win!” booms a suddenly excited Stevens! “Wilson’s team is only good for mindgames if he wants to walk out of here with that belt!”

 

“Come on Wilson!” shouts Riley. “Focus, focus! Get back to killing Edwin, leave the referee alone!” Outside the ring, TNT and Stryke continue to argue over course of action, while Frost stands idly by, looking back and forth between his hot-tempered cohorts and the situation in the ring. Wilson finally gets sick of conferencing with the referee and dismisses him with a flick of the wrist, then turns back…RIGHT INTO A SHOTEI TO THE GUT!

 

“SHOTEI! SHOTEI! EDWIN’S ON THE COMEBACK!” Edwin rears back, fires another shotei…and connects! Wilson staggers! Edwin winds up big time, launches one last shot…AND WILSON CATCHES IT! Every fan is on his feet as Wilson rolls over the caught right arm, taking it behind Edwin’s back, cinching a half-nelson—no, mule kick back, but Wilson fights through it—back elbow to the temple, but Wilson fights through, getting Edwin’s left arm all wrapped up to complete the full-nelson!

 

“PLATINUM NIGHTMARE! So much for your comeback, MacPhisto!” Wilson threads his legs between Edwin’s, lining up the full-nelson forward Russian legsweep. He pauses for a moment, savoring the smell of the air, the electricity of the moment as he prepares to win his second world title. It all came together perfectly. Even that funny-looking guy with the blue hair jumping over the guardrail.

 

Wait a second.

 

Wilson does a double-take.

 

“Shit.”

 

And he looks on helplessly as, outside the ring, TNT’s turned back has a special visitor.

 

“THOMPSON! MOVE!” shouts the in-ring general, and TNT turns…and tastes superkick!

 

“IT’S Z! IT’S Z! He made it out here, and he just decked TNT with the Blizzard of Oz!” The crowd explodes as the newest Carnie comes charging into battle! Stryke leaps over TNT’s fallen body, stepping to engage…and Z comes rocketing forward with a thick arm outstretched! Stryke swings a punch, but Z charges right through and absolutely LEVELS him! “ARM GRENADE! ARM GRENADE! Z’s ultra-lariat just took down Stryke!” In the ring, Wilson panics as he watches Stryke fall! The cheers of the crowd are deafening, and as he shifts his attention, he loosens his grip ever so slightly…and Edwin kicks out his feet and falls backwards, landing right on top of a shocked Wilson! The ring thunders as the two men crash down!

 

“No! No! Focus, Wilson! You’ve still got him!”

 

“Riley, LISTEN to this crowd! This is unreal! Z’s playing equalizer! Either man could take this with one perfect move!” “CARN-I-VAL! CARN-I-VAL!” Chants fill the arena as Frost comes barreling forward towards Z, and the quirky Carnie dives towards him with an Arm Grenade, connects…and fails to move Frost! In the ring, Wilson and Edwin roll around frantically, the ref on the mat with them, trying to see if a shoulder gets pinned! Wilson holds onto the full nelson and tries to bridge over, but Edwin snaps his head backwards into Wilson’s face and breaks free! He scrambles away and Wilson gets to his feet, dashes forward…and Edwin clips out his right leg with a dragon screw legwhip, holds on, and rolls through into a tight pressure cradle! “CRADLE! EDWIN’S GOT HIM! HOLD ON!” The count starts!

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

TH—and Wilson kips up off the mat, MacPhisto still clinging to his free leg! Wilson drops into a side roll and rams Edwin with his shoulder, knocking the kneeling champ off-balance and exposing his left leg to a snag and a roll-up!

 

“ROLL-UP! WILSON REVERSES!” shouts Riley!

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

THR—Edwin bridges out, but Wilson shoves him right back down!

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

TH—he bridges again, but Wilson plants his feet and shoves the champ down one more time, rolling him up almost entirely vertical with a double-leg pick-up! “THIS IS IT!” screams Riley! The crowd explodes!

 

ONE!

 

Edwin squirms!

 

TWO!

 

Wilson pushes!

 

TH—and Edwin EXPLODES OUTWARDS, pumping both his feet out and sending Wilson scrambling backwards! Outside the ring, Frost finally catches Z, gets him in a double underhook, and lifts him for a huge powerbomb on the outside! “Early Winter! Early Winter! Z falls to Frost!” cries Stevens! “And Edwin’s on the charge!” Both Wilson and Edwin get to their feet, and Edwin charges forward, leaps with a telegraphed splash—Wilson catches him—NO, Edwin shifts his weight backwards and Wilson tumbles OVER EDWIN in a crumpled heap! The Mac Daddy bridges and WILSON’S SHOULDERS ARE PINNED IN AN OKLAHOMA ROLL!

 

ONE!

 

TWO!

 

TH—Wilson bridges back and reverses the pin! “OH MY GOD!”

 

ONE!

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

THR—NO, Edwin rolls to the side and gets a shoulder up! “It’s all breaking down—it’s Wilson and Edwin now, with just Frost on the out—WILSON WITH ANOTHER SCHOOLBOY! HIS FEET ARE ON THE ROPES! DON’T COUNT IT, REF!” The Mellon Arena is in an uproar!

 

“DO IT! COUNT IT!” screams Riley! The ref doesn’t see the feet!

 

ONE!

 

 

 

TWO!

 

 

 

 

 

THR—AND EDWIN GETS A BACK ROLL, YANKING WILSON’S FEET OFF THE ROPES AND OUT TO THE CENTER OF THE RING! The two men tumble around, throwing punches, no decisive pins for any longer than a half count—Wilson gives a monster shove and forces Edwin away, then scrambles to his feet and charges the rising Mac Daddy! Wilson plows into Edwin and drives him into the ropes, and Edwin staggers out only for Wilson to take him into a whip! Wilson releases and charges after the dizzied Mac Daddy, charging for the ropes as Frost looks on from outside, his eyes shifting with Edwin’s blazing movement across the ring, Wilson in hot pursuit…

 

“How much gas do these men have left?!?!” shouts Stevens! Frost keeps observing…

 

Edwin closing the distance to the ropes…

 

Wilson charging behind…

 

…Edwin LEAPING…

 

…the crowd ROARING…

 

…and Edwin SPRINGING OFF THE MIDDLE ROPE AND TWISTING IN MID-AIR! Chris Wilson skids to a stop as the World Champion sails back towards him, sailing high, unstoppable…and Edwin’s knees collide with Wilson’s chest, driving him to the mat! Frost’s jaw drops, and as his leader and the champion crash into the mat, the wild-haired champion fluidly catches Wilson’s legs and pulls them forward as they land!

 

“REVERSE VICTORY ROLL OFF THE SECOND ROPE! EDWIN HAS WILSON’S SHOULDERS DOWN!”

 

Wilson kicks frantically as Edwin sits across his chest, holding the pumping legs tight, and the referee drops to the mat!

 

“NO! NO!” Riley shouts, and Frost makes a lunge for the referee!

 

ONE!

 

And suddenly, Frost collapses to the outside!

 

TWOOOOOOOO!

 

“GALATEA SPECIAL FROM Z TO FROST! THERE’S NO ONE STOPPING THE COUNT!”

 

“NO! WILSON, KICK OUT!”

 

 

 

 

 

 

…

 

 

THREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!

 

And a split-second later, Chris Wilson explodes out of the cover and sends Edwin MacPhisto flying, but it’s too late! The bell rings, and the crowd is bursting with cheers as the Mac Daddy rolls back to his feet, the referee following to raise his exhausted arm high into the air! Chris Wilson sits in shocked disbelief!

 

“He did it! He did it! Edwin MacPhisto overcame the odds with a little help from Z!”

 

“YOUR WINNER,” booms Funyon, “and STILL S-W-F World Heavyweight Champion: Edwin MacPhistOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

 

“Dammit! Dammit! Dammit! It was the perfect plan!” cries Riley as “Battleflag” begins to bump! “Wilson had him!”

 

“But Edwin got the win with that amazing springboard victory roll! It was a match of almost-theres and near-falls between two men who know each other too well, and finally Edwin scored the winning combination! I knew he could do it—oh, no! Jesus, get out of there, Edwin! Here comes the cavalry!” The crowd’s cheers of elation dissolve into boos as Tyler McClelland and Danny Williams come bolting down the ring ramp, making haste towards the ring! “It’s 6 on 2 out here and—IT’S RAYNOR! IT’S RAYNOR!” The blurred figure of Chris Raynor comes staggering out of the backstage area in a charge, and with a huge leap he spears Danny Williams down from behind! Tyler McClelland turns, and a huge dropkick off the guardrail from El Luchadore Magnifico puts him down! The Carnies charge towards the ring, leaving a recovering Williams and McClelland in the dust, facing off with a recovered TNT and Stryke! In the ring, Wilson gets up and charges towards Edwin, the referee trying to block him—and getting thrown clear out of the ring! Wilson picks Edwin up, but Z dives in from the outside and clips out his leg! Raynor and Magnifico plow through TNT and Stryke on the outside and dive into the ring—and Raynor eats a big boot from the restored Frost! Magnifico charges for Wilson, but TNT gets a hand on his leg and pulls him back out of the ring, where he and Stryke hammer away! “This is a pier six brawl—the match is over, Edwin MacPhisto is still the champion, but there’s a war going down between the Midnight Carnival and Wilson’s crew!”

 

In the ring, Wilson turns on Z, forcing him back towards the rampside ring ropes, but Edwin charges from behind, slamming Wilson in the back with a clothesline and giving Z a friendly shove to safety! Z drags Raynor out, Magnifico manages to crack TNT’s head into a ringpost, and the Carnival, in a tight cluster, slinging punches and kicks at six attackers, start to make the move back up the ramp—no, Deathwish and McClelland come charging back—Raynor lands a flying tackle on McClelland, and Edwin backdrops Deathwish back into the crowd of oncoming adversaries! Wilson stands in the ring, leaning on the ropes, watching as the brawl snakes its way up the ramp, all four Carnies clear of the approaching horde and nearing the entrance stage…

 

…and he’s grinning. A wide smile, ear to ear, and then…he laughs.

 

“Wilson’s lost it! He lost the match, the Carnival is escaping, and all he can do is laugh! The Carnival’s almost out of this mess...”

 

And then, the lights go out.

 

“We’ve lost power!” shouts Riley! “Someone gets the lights!” As if on cue, a huge flash of light appears at the entrance ramp. The Carnies throw their arms up to block the blinding glare, and the SmarkTron glows red, flashes of matches images too quick to register cutting back and forth on the screen. A low rumbling sound echoes out, and the images start to slow down.

 

“What’s happening?”

 

“Remember, Stevens! Wilson said he had a surprise for tonight!”

 

“I thought that was Outcast…”

 

The images are slowing…slowing down…the brawl has stopped, and in the dim light of the arena, all eyes are on the screen, as images start to make sense, become more than pieces…flashes of action…flashes of chain…flashes of the hardcore title…and the images finally screech to a stop.

 

They stop on an insignia known to many, feared by more, and not seen for quite some time.

 

Two hands, clutched around a throat.

 

“Oh no…”

 

BOOM! Another flash of blinding white light erupts, and now a mammoth silhouette stands on the entrance ramp as the rumbling sound gives way to Static-X’s “Burn to Burn!” The house lights flare up as the figure storms down the ramp, and an initially huge pop of recognition gives way into a flood of boos as he swings a chain onto his fist and breaks into a dash, straight for the Carnival! The laughter of Chris Wilson echoes out, and the monstrous figure annihilates Chris Raynor and Z with a double clothesline!

 

“IT’S THE BOSTON STRANGLER! HE’S RETURNED—AND HE’S RETURNED TO CHRIS WILSON’S ENTOURAGE!”

 

On the ramp, Edwin MacPhisto’s jaw drops, and El Luchadore Magnifico leaps towards Strangler—WHAM! The legendary hardcore champion drills him in the face with a wad of chain, and the high-flyer falls away uselessly! “Strangler just destroyed the Carnival! This can’t be happening!” Edwin backs down the ramp, title belt slung over his shoulder, as Strangler closes…

 

“No, Edwin, turn around!” The crowd roars, and Edwin backs right into the waiting pit of Wilson’s army, and suddenly, five men are on him! Edwin swings his belt and manages to knock Deathwish away momentarily, but Strangler charges down the ramp and adds a sixth man to the mayhem! The champion swings his belt, fires elbows, but punches hammer him from the left, from the right, from all over, until he finally falls, sinking deep into the abyss between these six men, pounding away, pummeling without remorse! “This is madness! The Boston Strangler is back, and he’s going to be one god-damn hell of a lieutenant for Wilson’s apparent army!”

 

“All right, all right!” The voice of Chris Wilson cuts over the speakers, and “Burn to Burn” fades! “Back off, everyone—let me see him.” The crowd parts, and Edwin MacPhisto lays there, bruised, battered, and bloody, still clutching to his title belt. Wilson looks down, and the Mellon arena is deafening with jeers. “You put up a good fight, Edwin,” starts the manipulator. “But it wasn’t good enough. I warned you, Edwin. I told you to expect the unexpected.” The mastermind bends over Edwin and pulls his limp form up, shouting right in his face. “Do you HEAR me, Edwin? I warned you…and you walked right into it. You’ll never outplay me, Edwin. This is my game, and tonight…well, it’s the start of a long, sad game over for you and your precious Carnies. Goodnight, sweet Prince: we’ll see you on Storm.” With that, Wilson throws down the microphone and heaves the battered world champion to the Boston Strangler, who quickly hooks a facelock and grabs Edwin’s waist.

 

“No! No! Strangler, don’t do this! Wilson, call them off!” Stevens pleads, but to no avail. The Boston Strangler, fresh blood on his hands, lets out a roar, then lifts Edwin high…high…holding him…and brings him down over the steel with a reverse DDT Drop!

 

“Last Breath! Last Breath!” squeals Riley. “It’s over! The champion is down! He held onto his belt tonight, but looks who’s still standing! It’s TNT! It’s Frost! It’s Danny Williams! It’s Stryke! It’s Outcast! It’s the Boston Strangler…and it’s Chris Wilson.”

 

“Folks,” says Stevens, “what we have just witnessed is one of the most disgusting, sick beatings I have witnessed in my career in this game, and I, for one, do not know what to say. We’ve had an amazing Pay-Per-View tonight…but this…I do not know what to say. For Bobby Riley and the whole Snake Eyes crew, this is Mark Stevens…signing…ugh…off.”

 

We fade to black on seven man standing tall, breathing heavily on the ramp, all eager for the future.

 

They are a new guard. They are a new army.

 

They are, to put it lightly…magnificent.

[Guest BA_Baracus]

TAG TEAM MATCH

Thoth & Frost vs. Mercury & Ced Ordonez

- Thoth and Frost with a win...

 

4-WAY MATCH FOR THE #1 CONTENDERSHIP TO THE US TITLE

Danny Williams vs. Tod DeKindes vs. “TNT” Taylor Nicholas Thompson vs. Z

- TNT with an explosive win.

 

TRIPLE THREAT US TITLE MATCH

Chris Raynor © vs. Durandal vs. Jay Dawg

- Duran...er, Tom Flesher regains the title!

 

HARDCORE TITLE MATCH

Stryke © vs. Ash Ketchum

- Ash Ketchum captures the hardcore title.

 

QUADRUPLE THREAT MATCH FOR THE ICTV TITLE

Sacred © vs. Fallout vs. Erek Taylor vs. Longdogger Pete

- Taylor wins...[insert clever line here].

 

SWF HEAVYWEIGHT TITLE MATCH

Edwin MacPhisto © vs. Chris Wilson

- This match had returns, stable joinages and all sorts of other craziness. Read it.