[Fade up on footage shot from another vehicle of the IIWF tour trucks rolling in convoy down a German autobahn. It is night, and the headlights of the trucks cut solid beams through the light winter mist.] VO: The IIWF's world tour travels onward to Germany. Regarded by many as the heart of Europe, it is a nation with a chequered history -- division, dictatorship, war, poverty, reunion and prosperity. Some would claim that Germany is possessed of a national pride that verges on arrogance. Certainly in the IIWF, one does not have to look very far to find an exponent of this view: [In the beam of the headlights appear images of Otto Verhoeven exacting horrible beatings on a number of opponents.] VO: Former IIWF World Champion, Otto "the Butcher" Verhoeven, rose to the top in the IIWF faster than any other star in its history. With an almost unassailable arsenal of high-impact offense, and a devious valet who will do anything for her man, Verhoeven espouses the cool, efficient ruthlessness for which the German nation is traditionally famed. [The images of Verhoeven fade, and in their place come images of the Subway Psycho: holding aloft the IIWF World Heavyweight Championship; battling the Outlaw; the montage descends into generic footage of the Psycho's IIWF career.] VO: But his path has been impeded by another former World Champion. Now crowned the People's Champion, the Subway Psycho has overcome the odds time and time again, and fought back from crushing defeat. However, many are stating that in Verhoeven, the Psycho has met his match. Such talk only motivates the subway-dwelling superstar to prove his dissenters wrong. [The trucks swing out of shot. Cut to the trucks arriving at the Kohl Centre, in central Berlin.] VO: Tonight, on Otto Verhoeven's home ground, the Subway Psycho will attempt to overcome those odds. He will attempt to defend the honour of his valet and confidant, Mistress Sasha. But most of all, he will try to take Verhoeven down, and put him out for good. Tonight, live from Berlin, Germany, this is... [The opening graphics explode onto the screen as the title music kicks in:] ##### ###### ### ########## ########## ########## #### ## ########## ########## ########## #### # #### ######## ##### ##### #### ## ##### #### #### #### #### ### #### #### #### #### ############# ######### #### #### ########### ######### #### #### #### #### #### ######### ######### ### #### #### ######### ######### ### ## #### ######## ######## ## # #### =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- ## =-=-=-= INTERNATIONAL INTERNET WRESTLING FEDERATION =============================================== S + A + T + U + R + D + A + Y N + I + G + H + T ----------------------------------------------- + LiVE + Kohl Centre, Berlin, Germany + + 14 December 1996 + [The opening graphics spin off the screen, revealing interior shots of the packed Kohl Centre. Some thirty-five thousand fans form a sea of faces, signs and merchandise in the huge arena. Lights swirl, casting multicoloured rays over the excited crowd. A large contingent of the crowd are waving official IIWF Otto Verhoeven foam meat cleavers, and a great many others hold up hand-made signs and banners. The shot pans down past row upon row of fans, finally coming to rest on the broadcast table in the ringside enclosure, at which stand Tim Dross and "Soundbite" Steve Roberts.] TD: What a welcome from these fans here in Berlin! Welcome, everybody, to another live and loud edition of IIWF Saturday Night, just seven days -- and a whole continent -- away from IIWF Snow Brawl, which is shaping up to be the most exciting pay-per-view spectacular of all time! But there's plenty to look forward to in tonight's show as well. Fans, I'm Tim Dross, and beside me as always is my broadcast colleague, "Soundbite" Steve Roberts. SR: Guten nacht, Dross. TD: Very good, Steve. SR: Becky's been coaching me on my German phrases. I figure that if this place has such great beer, I'd better make an effort to learn the lingo. TD: But of course. Fans, you heard at the top of the hour about tonight's incredible main event, pitting the Subway Psycho against hometown hero Otto Verhoeven. It's going to be difficult for the Psycho to be on the other side of the tracks tonight, so to speak. SR: It sure is, Dross. Over here, it's Verhoeven who's the people's champion. The Stinker is going to need a miracle to walk out of the Kohl Centre tonight. TD: We also have three non-title matches lined up tonight, as the IIWF's champions prepare for the various challenges that await them in Alaska next Saturday night. IIWF World Heavyweight Champion Dan Kauffman will face one of the most impressive athletes in the IIWF today, the "Enigma" Takezo Musashi, IIWF World Tag Team Champions, the High Plains Drifters, will face Domination, and the IIWF Cruiserweight Champion, Hakiro Matsuoko, will face debutant Ronnie Paris. SR: And you notice that ol' Willie Pukespeare, who doesn't deserve to even be in the same state as the Intercontinental Championship, let alone _wear_ it, is conspicuous by his absence. He's bribed the front office into giving him the week off. TD: It's true that Billy Shakespeare won't be wrestling before Snow Brawl, but that's got a lot more to do with his injuries than any half-baked conspiracy theory put forward by the "Painbringer" Billy Sexton. Come next Saturday night, those two will meet one on one, and we'll see just how much of a conspiracy there is against Sexton. In other action tonight, "Quickstrike" Chris Quigley will battle Creed, the man he waffled with a chair last Saturday night when he made his big comeback. SR: Waffled is just what Quigley's going to be after Creed gets through with him. Get the maple syrup ready. TD: The Arabian Knights are also scheduled up in action against former tag champs, Rising Sun Revolution, who are looking for a victory tonight to restore their momentum going into their rematch with the High Plains Drifters at Snow Brawl. SR: They can forget it, Dross. The Knights are on top of their game right now, and those two Japanese retards have finally found their luck has run out. TD: The man who will challenge for Hakiro Matsuoko's Cruiserweight title on Saturday at Snow Brawl, Tiger Claw, will also be in action tonight as he faces the... er, unorthodox Dirt Dog Unique Allah. SR: That's putting it mildly, Dross. Even though this guy likes his liquor, he can still take it to his opponents in the ring. Chiefly through the stench, of course, but if it ain't broke, don't fix it. TD: We'll see whether Claw can break him later on tonight. Mr. Damage will be squaring off against the bizarre Cheshire, and the recently debuted "Epitome of Evil" Serge Annis will do battle with the man who isn't any stranger to dastardly deeds himself, "Superstar" Stud Stetson. Plus Becky LaRue will be grilling another lucky superstar in her Lair, and the IIWF President will be on hand later on to make the official drawings for next week's Lethal Lottery tag team matches! I can hardly wait. SR: Nor can I, Dross. The possibilities for those six matches are almost endless. Let's hope it's a fair draw. TD: I'm sure it will be. All that to come here tonight, folks, but first, we're going to see the debut of a man known throughout the wrestling world. This man has built up quite a reputation in the past few years, and now he's come to the real proving grounds to test himself. I am, of course, talking about the American Patriot, and he'll be going up against the Masked Marauder in just a few moments... [Suddenly, there is a pop from the crowd.] ...hang on, there's somebody coming down the aisle. No, hang on, it's two people... SR: Is it a bird? Is it a plane? TD: No, Steve, it's the Players' Club, "Desirable" Danny Dynamite and "Maverick" Michael Reyna. They've had a shaky start here in the IIWF due to injury, but they're not scheduled for action tonight. What do they want? SR: Their asses kicked... again. TD: Please, Steve. [Danny Dynamite and Micheal Reyna emerge from the curtian, wearing baggy jeans and "Players' Univeristy" shirts. Danny has his hair pulled back, and his Oakley sunglasses on, while Reyna has a black "Players' Club" hat and wire rimmed reading glasses on. They vault into the ring, and signal for a mic from the ring announcer.] DDD: [to the crowd] Guess who's BAAAAACCCCCKKKK!!!! SR: [over the headset, mocking] Oh, who. _Please_ tell us. [Crowd pop.] DDD: Yup! 3-D and The Maverick himself, IN LIVING COLOUR! IIWF, it's time to set some things straight! [Pop!] First! We are HERE! You better hide your BEST teams, 'cause when we find them.... MR: We're gonna hide 'em.. IN THE HOSPITAL! [Crowd pop!] MR: Second! The Players' Club is not just who you see before you... We are SEVEN members strong, spanning five federations... we are champs and hold championships in ALL the feds... including the IIWF... DDD: ...'Cause who is YOUR IIWF CHAMP? [Crowd starts chanting "Kauff-man! Kauff-man!"] DDD: That's right... Danny Boy himself... the "FLASH"... But, Dan, no hard feelin's bro, but where ya been? We lost four in a row, and you were nowhere to be seen... Now, I know you're a busy man with that belt, but, one for all, and all for TPC... What's up? MR: And speaking of what's up... Who's the tag team champs? [The crowd yells out a mixture of boos, and the name of the High Plains Drifters.] MR: WHO?! Doesn't matter, 'cause when WE catch em... You'll be yelling out ANOTHER team name... and what is that? DDD: The Players' Club! MR: So, everybody... give your hearts to God, 'cause when it's all said and done.. DDD: Your asses, those IIWF gold tag team belts, and careers... BOTH: ...ARE OURS! DDD: Get ready to go down, TPC style! [Both jump out of the ring while "If ya want it" by 2nd II None starts up and plays. They hi-five fans around the ring before making their way back up the aisle. Cut back to the broadcast table.] SR: Empty promises, Dross. The Players' Club couldn't beat themselves over the head with a baseball bat, let alone the IIWF World Tag Team Champions. TD: I beg to differ, Steve. Dynamite and Reyna are amongst the finest young light heavyweights in the sport today, and next Saturday they'll have their chance at a shot at the champions in that Free For All Tag Team Battle Royal. SR: Humph. They don't stand a chance. TD: We'll see about that. Okay, fans, let's get back up to the ring for the introductions in our first match tonight. =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- American Patriot vs. The Masked Marauder -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= [Sparkplug Lee sheepishly steps into the ring. He is wearing braces and lederhosen. The crowd bursts out laughing.] SR: Dross, I find Sparkplug's attempts at fitting in with national costume absolutely pitiful. TD: Rather like your Spanish, a couple of weeks ago. SR: Watch it, Dross. That was Becky's fault, not mine. [Sparkplug steps into the spotlight, draws himself up to his full height, and speaks.] RA: Lederhosen and gentlemen... I mean, ladies and gentlemen, tonight's opening encounter is scheduled for one fall. Introducing first, already in the ring, weighing in at 235lbs, here is... the Masked Marauder! [Negligible crowd reaction for the Marauder, who mounts the turnbuckles and waves to the fans. The crowd erupts into a mixture of boos and cheers as the lighting turns red, white and blue and "Stars and Stripes Forever" begins to blare out over the PA.] TD: The American Patriot doesn't have it easy making his IIWF debut in front of such a partisan crowd. I don't think he's going to have much luck winning them over. SR: I don't think he's going to have much luck winning, period. RA: And introducing his opponent: making his way down the aisle, hailing from San Diego, California, weighing in at 285lbs, here is... the American Patriot! [Rockets shoot up from the head of the aisle as the Patriot steps out into the arena. He stands at an imposing 6'11", is muscular, and wears red, white and blue mask and tights. He walks to the ring, hi-fiving as many fans as are interested in him. The Patriot steps between the ropes, and more fireworks explode high above him. The music stops, and the referee signals for the bell to open the match.] TD: You might think that with this man's size, he's an out and out power wrestler, but I think you'll be surprised at the variety of ways in which he can mix it up. SR: Well, he seems to have put his jockstrap on his head, so he's already fairly mixed up, Dross. What's with the stupid mask, anyhow? TD: The Patriot prefers not to be identified, Steve. He's the embodiment of the American Dream, the aspirations of a nation, not a single man. SR: He's an ugly goofball, you mean. TD: You don't know that, Steve. [The Patriot and the Marauder lock up, and the Patriot immediately asserts his power advantage by shoving the Marauder into the corner. The Marauder cautiously approaches his huge opponent again, and the two men lock up once more. Again, the Marauder finds himself practically thrown at the turnbuckles. Pop! The Marauder approaches even more cautiously, raising his arms to the Patriot, requesting a test of strength. The Patriot is happy to oblige, but is met by a boot to the gut from the Marauder, which doubles him over. The Marauder hits a swinging neckbreaker. Pop!] SR: Okay, so the guy has no brains. Next problem? [The Marauder attempts an elbow drop on the Patriot, but hits only mat as the man in the red, white and blue rolls out of the way, and is quickly back to his feet. He drags the Marauder to his feet, whips him into the ropes, and hits him with a clothesline on the return. The Marauder gets to his feet, and is stunned by a standing dropkick! Big pop!] TD: Wow! The American Patriot stands at nearly seven feet tall, and he just dropkicked the Masked Marauder! SR: [mocking] Wowee... Whoopy-doo. [The Marauder rolls to the outside, and the Patriot gives his opponent time to collect himself.] SR: Look at that. The guy's got no killer instinct. Any other wrestler would be out there like a shot, capitalising on the Marauder's grogginess. [The Marauder climbs back to the ring apron, and the Patriot attempts to suplex him back into the ring. The Marauder drives a shoulder into his opponent's midsection, then sunset flips over him, and brings him down for a pinning predicament - count - 1 - kickout by the Patriot! The Patriot is quickly back to his feet, and traps the Marauder in a full nelson. The smaller man quickly makes a grab for the ropes, and is fortunate to reach them. The referee calls for the break, and the Patriot obliges. His opponent lashes out with a kick which hits the Patriot in the midsection, and the Marauder attempts to take him down with a clothesline, but he simply bounces off. The Patriot traps the Marauder in a bulldog headlock, and brings him down to the mat hard! Pop! He slaps his right forearm, and the crowd cheer.] TD: That's it! He's signalling for the Patriot Missile, his trademark flying forearm smash! If he hits this, it's all over! [The Patriot drags his opponent to his feet, whips him into the ropes, and bounces off the opposite side himself. He launches himself at the Marauder, and connects with a hard flying forearm smash. He makes the cover - 1 - 2 - 3! Ding! Ding! Ding! The referee raises his arm in victory as "Stars and Stripes Forever" starts up once more.] RA: Ladies and gentlemen, here is your winner, as the result of a pinfall: the American Patriot! [Mixed pop once more from the German fans as the Patriot leaves the ring and heads back up the aisle. Cut back to the announcers' table.] TD: An impressive debut from the big man, Steve. He could be one to watch in the Lethal Lottery draw later on tonight. SR: I hope he gets drawn against somebody like Otto Verhoeven. That would really sort the men from the boys. TD: Fans, before we get to our next encounter, I have some interesting news to report. Further to the recent trend for vehicular incidents here in the IIWF, I received a memo earlier this evening concerning the "Painbringer" Billy Sexton, who is believed to have gone missing following a car accident earlier this week. The memo reads: -- DATELINE: Germany, 12 December 1996. IIWF wrestler Billy Sexton was involved in a head-on collision with another driver just outside Bonn. The car was rented for Sexton by the IIWF. The other driver was an IIWF intern. Inside the intern's car was a picture of Sexton, a large amount of money in used bank notes, and a note supposedly written by Billy Shakespeare, reading, "Thanks in advance, your friend Billy." "Painbringer" Billy Sexton is not believed to have been hurt in the accident, but he has yet to contact the authorities, having gone missing at the scene of the accident. -- Fans, at this stage, I have no idea what this means for Sexton's match against Billy Shakespeare at Snow Brawl. SR: Well, I'll tell you, Dross. It's obvious. Pukespeare has had Sexton kidnapped so that he will "miraculously" fail to appear next Saturday night, and thus forfeit his shot at the Intercontinental Championship. This conspiracy runs deeper than I thought. TD: Steve, this conspiracy is all a big scam dreamed up by Sexton to try and get the psychological upper hand with Shakespeare. He'll be at Snow Brawl, I guarantee it, and Billy knows it too. Let's move on. Our next encounter pits the Antipodean athlete with an attitude, Mr. Damage, against the bizarre Cheshire. Let's go backstage to Steve Summers, who I believe is waiting to speak with Cheshire now: [Cut to Steve Summers standing in the locker room, waiting for Cheshire. One of the Barnacle brothers passes by and Steve stops him.] SS: Excuse me, Mr., uhm, Barnacle, can you tell me where I can find Mr. Cheshire? BB: That freak is hanging around next door. He probably still has nightmares about red gloves, haha. C: [from next door] How about a _black_ eye, udder-brain! [Barnacle snorts and leaves. Summers enters the adjoining room and hesitates, as he sees Cheshire actually hanging head down on the wall, watching an "Animaniacs" cartoon and obviously enjoying himself. Eventually Steve closes the door and approaches him.] SS: Mr. Cheshire? Excuse me, but you have only a few minutes left until your match, and I'd like to use that time to make an interview with you. BB: [from the locker room] Interview that idiot? Forget it, Summers! You expect too much from that walking laughing-stock, hahaha! [The noise of a locker being opened can be heard.] C: I'd not open that locker if I were you, Barnieboy! [A loud "WHAM!" and a yell sound from the locker room. Steve whirls around and starts for the door.] C: Wait, Stevey. You won't like that sight. Hehehe. So what is so important that you disturb me in my preparations? SS: Well, I wanted to inform myself about your condition. That has really been an unlucky debut for you against that monster Creed. C: Awww, come on. That big black buffo was just lucky. [He bends upward to grab the high bar and climbs down.] Something in the audience caught my eye and distracted me, and WHOOSH!, he got me. [He heads for the door to the locker room] SS: Well, Mr. Damage is more your weight class. Do you feel confident to beat him? C: [He opens the door and enters the locker room, blocking it from the view of the camera for the moment.] I don't feel confident, Timmy, hehehe, I KNOW I will beat him. I'll teach him a lesson in humour he'll NEVER forget! [Now the camera shows the locker room. It looks like something exploded in one of the lockers and spread its white contents all about the room. The Barnacle Brother is lying unconscious between two benches amidst the mess. Cheshire bends down, dips his finger into the thick stuff and tastes it.] C: Hmmm. Whipped cream. Hehehe. Aaaheheheeeehehe...! SS: [He turns to the camera, somewhat irritated.] Now, err, I think we're done here right now, so let's get back to the arena. C: Hehehe! I told, Barnie, NEVER - fool - a clown! [Cut back to the broadcast table.] SR: That clown-assed freak had better pay a bit more attention to his opponents, and spend a little less time freaking out the prelim wrestlers, or he's going to find himself on a hiding to nothing. TD: I really don't know what to make of Cheshire, although it seems he could make a pretty mean cream cake. SR: I knew that would appeal to you, fatso. TD: Let's get back up to the ring. =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Mr. Damage vs. Cheshire =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= TD: Hopefully, we can finally get a good look at this newcomer, Cheshire. SR: Sure... What a wacko. TD: I'll admit, he is quite the unorthodox individual. SR: Dross, Charles Manson was an "unorthodox individual." Cheshire is a wacko. [Sparkplug Lee enters the ring, gnawing on a bratwurst.] RA: Ladies and gentlemen, this match is scheduled for one fall. Introducing first... Huh? [Sparkplug Lee's attention is centred on Cheshire flik-flakking down the aisle to the ring. The crowd applaud his acrobatics, and Sparkplug is stunned. Cheshire leaps to the top rope, and backflips off of it into the centre of the ring. He throws his arm around Lee.] RA: Ummm... Well, here's Cheshire! TD: That was quite an entrance! SR: Wacko... RA: His opponent, weighing in at 245lbs and hailing from Melbourne, Australia, Mr. Damage! [The crowd gives a heel pop as Damage makes his way to the ring. Damage ignores the boos, and enters the ring, staring down Cheshire.] TD: An intense look on Mr. Damage's face. SR: And that wacko Cheshire is sticking his tongue out at Damage! I told you he's insane! [The somewhat unique exchange continues until Damage charges at Cheshire, who cartwheels out of the way. Damage runs into the ropes and stops, then turns slowly, a grim look on his face. Cheshire waves his arms to quiet the crowd, and holds his hand out to Damage. Damage looks at him, then smirks, and goes to shake Cheshire's hand. Cheshire quickly jabs a thumb into Damage's eye, and Damage takes a few steps back. Cheshire follows up with a monkeyflip, and Damage hits the canvas. Cheshire leaps to his feet, and does a little jig, giggling the whole time. Damage gets to his feet, and Cheshire comes off the ropes, attempting a flying cross body block. Damage catches Cheshire, and executes a fallaway slam. Cheshire hits the mat hard, but continues to giggle like a madman.] SR: Look at him! TD: He seems totally impervious to pain! SR: Well, you know what they say... No sense, no feeling. [Damage drags Cheshire to his feet, and executes a gutwrench suplex. Cheshire is downed again, but keeps laughing. Damage, a little frustrated, picks up Cheshire in a press slam. Cheshire wiggles around, throwing off Damage's balance. Damage drops Cheshire, who lands on his feet, and dropkicks him in the back of the head. Damage is thrown forward against the ropes. Cheshire leaps to the top turnbuckle, waiting for Damage to turn. Damage motions to his head, apparently playing possum. Cheshire begins to walk across the top rope, to the delight of the crowd, to the next corner. Damage, feeling that he's waited long enough, charges the corner he thinks Cheshire is perched, only to find him not there. Cheshire holds his arms up, and launches himself into the air, travelling most of the way across the ring, and hitting Damage with a dropkick. Damage hits the mat, and Cheshire holds his hand up with the middle and ring fingers extended.] TD: We could see the Humorizer right here! SR: What a freak. [Cheshire waits for Damage to struggle to his feet, and lets out a yell... "WHEEEEEE-HA!" Like a matador thrusting a sword into a bull, Cheshire locks on the Humorizer, a mandible claw. Damage struggles for a moment, but seems to be losing his fight against the hold. After a short while, Damage falls to the mat, shoulders placed firmly on the canvas. The ref counts... 1 - 2 - 3! Ding! Ding! Big pop from the crowd!] TD: What a win for Cheshire! SR: Nutbar... [Cheshire extracts his fingers from Damage's mouth, and mercilessly stomps on the fallen Mr. Damage. Some of the crowd begin to boo, but the main reaction from the hometown crowd is positive for the newcomer. The ref gets between Cheshire and Damage. Cheshire grins, laughs a bit, then shrugs his shoulders as he leaves the ring and heads up the aisle. Many fans cheer Cheshire, and try to pat him on the back.] TD: It would seem that the fans have warmed up to this unorthodox athlete. SR: Just wait until he faces someone like Tiger Claw or the Venusian Death Cell. TD: I would love to see any one of those matches. SR: So would I... Cheshire would get his knees broken. TD: I don't know about that, Steve. Right now, it's time to go over to Becky for tonight's LaRue's Lair segment. This week's guest is none other than hometown heroine, the devious Nurse Heidi. SR: Wowee! Two hot chicks on the same podium. This isn't going to be such a bad night after all. TD: I despair of you, Steve. Over to you, Becky. [Wagner's "Ride of the Valkyries" begins to play, and Becky comes out to great applause. A somewhat familiar fan edges closer to the stage. Becky delicately places herself on the couch.] BL: As you may remember, I said I was going to interview Marty Warnett tonight. But then I thought, haven't we all heard enough from young Marty recently? Anyway, he's injured and I don't want to be accused of picking on the weak and infirm. Not to mention he'd probably get blancmange all over the set. So I thought, what the heck, let's double the ratings. What do wrestling fans want? Action and women stuffed into tastlessly small garments. So on the eve of her big IIWF PPV debut, here to shake her teutonic ta-tas and wiggle her Deutsch derriere, the IIWF's own Rhinemaiden: Nurse Heidi. [The crowd noise is deafening, and it takes more than a few dirty looks from Becky to quiet them down. Nurse Heidi enters, and Becky does her best to look pleasant.] BL: Understand, I don't like you very much, but you have a great taste in men. Where can I find a brute like the "Butcher"? NH: Nun, Becky, I don't like you very much either, judging you by your taste in clothes and your lack of respect, but to answer your question, Germany is the only nation that produces such perfect male specimens like my man Otto, unstoppable juggernauts... in every aspect. BL: [Becky seems lost in contemplation for a long moment] Um, oh. So what's your impression of Steve Roberts? NH: [giggling] He's such a jerk, a typical American, spineless vimp if you ask me. I really enjoy vatching Otto scare the hell out of him. Should he ever get near me again the German juggernaut vill take care of him once and for all. BL: Mistress Sasha. Describe for me the exquisite amounts of pain she is going to feel at the PPV? NH: You know, Sasha has alvays been a rich, spoiled brat. She thinks only because she knows the theory of vrestling she can step into the ring with one of the most talented female vrestlers in the vorld today. I am a submission vrestler, so you can bet that Sasha vill feel pain like never before in her life, and then some. BL: What compelled you to get involved in a match with Sasha? NH: Sasha is the daughter of a poverful promoter in Germany, who banned my beloved Otto from ever vrestling in his federation again. This forced us to leave the country and go to Japan to keep on doing vat ve do best: bash some heads and spread the glory of Germany throughout the world. But, what do you Americans say... payback is a bitch, and Sasha has to suffer for the "sins of her father." BL: If you should lose, how will you be able to show your face again? NH: Lose? LOSE? Hahahahahaha! Ridiculous thoughts, dear Becky! It vill not even be a contest, more a slaughter. But if the vonder happens, hell freezes over and Sasha manages to defeat me, you can bet that I vill run and hide. Every ugly dog has its day, so perhaps Lady Luck shows mercy to the ugly dog that's called Sasha. BL: Your wrestling roots are known, but is there any truth to the rumor that your grandfather moved to Argentina after the war? NH: Listen, you hag, I von't talk about grandpa Wolfgang! He had no connection to the Nazis and every decorated soldier has the right to live the last days of his live in a varm environment! BL: Hag?! You're in luck my announcing contract keeps me from stepping into the ring. Amuse me. Tell me about your famous finishing move. NH: The Sedative is a cross-face chickenving, the most painful submission hold ever used in the squared circle. Many famous female vrestlers had to endure, I am sure you have heard of them: Yukio Raven, Lady Amazon, Gunslinger Ginger. Oh, and you can ask Kidstrike Quigley about it, he felt it, too, and he didn't get up after it. Once the Sedative is locked on, the therapy of the nurse is at its end. BL: Steve has been begging me to ask this question all week: will this be the last cat-fight in the IIWF, or have you added Lace, Melody, Comedy and Mistress to your list too? NH: After they see how I destroy Sasha, none of the tramps you mentioned vill dare to step into the ring vith me. Oh, and I think I like Lace, she has the same killer instict women need in this business. But you never know, this Comedy-clown is pretty annoying... BL: Just for laughs, say Otto were to leave you for, let's say...me, which wrestler in the IIWF would you link up with? NH: [with a suspicious look] Vat a ridicolous idea, Becky. Otto and I belong together and he would never even think of leaving me. But which other vrestlers vould be vorthy of my attention? Hmm, Herr Hardin vas alvays an excellent competitor and vorking vith him vould have been... interesting, but you can say more about that, right? Other than him, I think Lord Byron is the only man vith enough class to deserve a valet like me. BL: Will Otto ever join a "stable"? NH: I don't think so. Most of the groups are composed of veak Americans, and "the Butcher" does not like to take commands from anybody. Of course I cannot predict the future, but for now, no, ve are independent, and like it that vay. BL: Would you ever consider wrestling one of the male competitors in the IIWF? NH: I think that most of the imbeciles wouldn`t stand a chance against a determined athlete like me. I could probably outvrestle Marty Varnett and make him cry for his mama in less than two minutes. Chris Quigley, the "best braggart in the vorld today", vould vithout so much as a single cry for help, and the Stooges, errr Harlequins, these fools vouldn't even hit me once. BL: I've heard that Marty wishes he could wrestle his mama... Wouldn't you say that Otto won the championship belt on his own and you had nothing to do with it? NH: Nein, no, that's not true. I am his only moral support, his advisor, his personal trainer. [With a sly smile] And hey, I am only a valet, after all, vat more could I do? BL: [Batting her eyelashes] Step off a cliff? But any last words? NH: Ja, Germany, tonight you vill vitness the annihilation of the Subway Beggar! Trust me, the bum and his valet vill have to enter the SLAUGHTERHOUSE! [Heidi exits to massive local applause.] BL: There you have it, a little girl talk for all you master... racers. If this interview proved anything, it's that there's more man-made fortification in her figure than in the Berlin wall... [Becky notices that the young fan has crept closer, and the look in his eye unsettles even her. She slips backstage. Cut back to the broadcast table.] TD: Well, that was... educational. Let's move on to our next encounter... tag team action, as former champs Rising Sun Revolution face the Arabian Knights! =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Arabian Knights vs. Rising Sun Revolution =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= RA: Ladies and gentlemen, the following tag team encounter is scheduled for one fall. Introducing first, accompanied to the ring by their advisor, Mr. Kaseem, here are Omar and Prince Abdul Akbar, the Arabian Knights! [Big heel pop as the Knights make their way down to the ring with their manager. They swat away the hands of the fans, and glare at them with some disdain, before making their way up the ringsteps and entering the ring, receiving some last-minute tactical advice from Kaseem all the way.] TD: The Knights certainly look determined here tonight, Steve. SR: They sure do. They match up pretty well against the Rising Damp Devolution, so I would expect this to be a good match. TD: That almost sounded like you were complimenting Rising Sun Revolution, Steve. SR: I never said they could wrestle, Dross. When I say "good match," I mean a match in which RSR get their stinking heads caved in. TD: You're disgusting. RA: And introducing their opponents... [Big pop as the theme from "Bladerunner" starts up over the PA] ...hailing from Tokyo, Japan, here are the Demon and the Dragon... Hiroshi Kasai and Ryudu Kenjinata... Rising Sun Revolution! [The crowd pops big for RSR as they appear at the head of the aisle. Fireworks shoot up from the entranceway into the roof of the Kohl Centre as Ryudu and Hiroshi start their walk down to the ring. However, they are followed out by another pair of men, whom they don't seem too pleased to see.] TD: It's the Alphabet Boys! What are they doing out here? SR: Those two morons probably think they're wrestling, or something. TD: Look at how they're dressed -- they're both wearing RSR t-shirts. In recent weeks, they do seem to have been developing an unhealthy interest in the former tag team champions, Steve. SR: Any interest the Alphabet Boys have in anything is bound to be unhealthy, Dross. TD: Good point. It looks like RSR are trying to get rid of them, but it isn't working. [The ABoys look lovingly at RSR as they try to shoo them back up the aisle, with no success. Ryudu and Hiroshi confer, and then walk to the ring. As soon as Ryudu steps through the ropes, he is attacked by Omar, who immediately goes to work on the smaller member of the team. The referee signals for the bell. Omar whips Ryudu into the ropes, and hits him with a boot to the midsection. Ryudu is doubled over, and Omar plants him with a powerbomb. He tags in the Prince, who leaps to the top rope and launches himself with a splash at the former champion. He connects with force! Big heel pop!] TD: The Knights have taken the early advantage here, and the Alphabet Boys just won't leave Hiroshi alone! [The ABoys tug at Hiroshi's feet as he stands on the apron, waving an autograph book up at him. He jumps down to the arena floor and begins arguing with the ABoys, who continue to gaze dewy-eyed at him. Meanwhile, in the ring, Abdul whips Ryudu into the ropes and bounces off the other side of the ring himself. However, he is surprised by a lightning-fast Frankensteiner from Ryudu! Big pop! Both men are down!] TD: That early attack on Ryudu has taken its toll -- both men are looking for the tag here! [Ryudu crawls to his corner, but Hiroshi is on the floor arguing with the Alphabet Boys. He yells out to his partner, but by the time Hiroshi realises what is going on, Omar has been tagged back in, and the big man charges across the ring, avalanching Ryudu in his corner, before dropping him into the centre of the ring with a high-impact belly-to-back suplex. Hiroshi yells in frustration and labels Abie with a hard right hand. Abie looks at Zed, and smiles, then hits his partner, mimicking the blow. Hiroshi looks at them with disbelief, and then jumps up to the apron. Omar whips Ryudu into his home corner, and he and the Prince double-team their opponent, Omar choking him, and the Prince jabbing punches into Ryudu's rib area.] TD: Please! Get in there, ref! [Hiroshi enters the ring to try and save his partner, but the referee forces him out again, giving the Knights further opportunity for double teaming. Omar tags Abdul, and the pair whip Ryudu across the ring, hitting him with a double back drop. They drag him to his feet again and once more whip him into the ropes. Ryudu ducks under a double clothesline, and fires back with a double clothesline of his own. Omar rolls out of the ring to regroup, and the Prince is laid out. Ryudu drags himself to one knee and turns to his corner, where Hiroshi is desperate for the tag. However, as Ryudu attempts to move towards his partner, the Alphabet Boys grow tired of punching each other, and drag Hiroshi down from the ring apron once more. The referee leaves the ring to try and force the ABoys away from the ring, but behind his back, Omar is revived by Mr. Kaseem, and handed some object. Omar rolls into the ring and nails Ryudu from behind with his loaded fist. Huge heel pop! He rolls the Prince on top of the fallen Japanese athlete, and then tries to drag the referee back into the ring.] TD: No way! This is awful! Ryudu could be out cold here! SR: Best way for him to be, if you ask me. TD: I didn't. [The referee turns and enters the ring, leaving Hiroshi to nail both Alphabet Boys. He climbs to the apron as the referee begins the count on Ryudu - 1 - 2 - he tries to make the save but is too late - 3! Ding! Ding! Ding! Huge heel pop! Hiroshi runs amok in the ring, picking up the Prince and military pressing him above his head before dumping him over the top rope to the outside! Big pop! Omar rolls back into the ring to attack Hiroshi, but the Demon clotheslines him straight back out! Mr. Kaseem wisely regroups his men, and the Knights make as hasty an exit as they can, staggering back up the aisle with their arms raised.] RA: Ladies and gentlemen, here are your winners, as the result of a pinfall: the Arabian Knights! [The Alphabet Boys also try to enter the ring, but they too are rapidly dispatched by the angry Hiroshi. Abie and Zed wisely decide to head up the aisle themselves.] TD: What a miscarriage of justice! The Alphabet Boys have cost their heroes a match here, Steve. SR: And they don't even realise it, Dross. What a couple of morons. [Hiroshi helps Ryudu up the aisle, accompanied by some security staff. There is a scuffle at the top of the aisle as the Armed Forces, along with their manager, Aaron the Caddy, burst out into the aisle. They try to get in RSR's faces, but the security staff hold them at bay.] TD: Not the Armed Forces too! This is getting ridiculous! SR: They should be getting the shot at the Drifters at Snow Brawl, Dross, and you know it. TD: I know nothing of the sort. It seems the Forces want to make a few comments -- they're headed down to the ring. [The Forces ignore the hostile reaction and make their way down the aisle. NavCom and DefCon enter the ring, jump onto the opposite turnbuckles, and begin working the crowd, as Aaron the Caddy takes the microphone and begins pacing in the ring.] ATC: Hello, IIWF Saturday Night audience. As you know, I am Aaron, manager of The Armed Forces, and I'm here on a little business with the IIWF and the Rising Sun Losers... sorry, Revolution. Ryudo, Hiroshi, President Spreadbury... this is going out to you three. When I turned on the television set the other day, I was expecting to see the announcement we'd been waiting for since Ring Wars II -- the announcement which granted the World Tag Title shot to my Armed Forces at Snow Brawl. Much to my dismay, that was not the case. It turns out that the shot was given to the team that just LOST the titles, Rising Sun Revolution. This is wrong, Prez Man Dan. At Ring Wars, back in October, we had the titles, and got _screwed_ into facing two teams, the High Plains Drifters AND Stunt Team USA, in defense of our titles. And when yet another team was entered into the fray, we didn't kick and scream, we just took it on the chin. That shot to the chin cost us the titles at the hands of the Revolution. Now, let me give you a couple of reasons why my men, The Armed Forces, deserve the title shot at Snow Brawl. First, think of who is worthy of this shot. Rising Sun Revolution showed up at Ring Wars II after a nice little vacation, didn't even step into the ring once, and got a tag title shot, while we've been paying our dues doing battle with losers like the Players Club and G.W.R. Maybe it's time to teach Ryudo and Hiroshi a little bit about waiting their turn. Second, think of our history against the Drifters. Four times we've faced them, and only once have they been able to pin our shoulders to the mat, and that happened by using a foreign object. We're HPD's demons, and until they can beat us in a title match, they won't be able to exorcise us. Third, and this should especially get Spreadbury's attention, being such a money grubber, think of the fan fare. What will sell more tickets for a pay-per-view at an AIR FORCE BASE: two cowboys versus two representatives of the country which brought our military such wonderful events as Pearl Harbor, or those same two cowboys against the representatives of all of what is good and true in America; reps of the United States Armed Forces? Take that into consideration when you find that you're not selling many tickets, Mr. President. The bottom line is this. If we don't get the shot that we deserve outright, then we DEMAND that the "Revolution" put their number one contendership on the line against us in a match some time next week. Come on, you two cowards, step up to the plate. [Aaron points to NavCom and DefCon who flex their muscles and make motions to the crowd about having the belts around their waists. The crowd responds with a big heel pop and some jeering, and then the trio steps through the ropes and heads back to the locker room.] TD: Surprisingly succinct, for the Forces. SR: That Aaron sure is a persuasive guy, Dross. He's sold me. TD: Well, he'll have to do a whole lot more than just come out here and run his mouth to sell the IIWF President. SR: I'm pretty sure the mention of ticket sales will have ensured that the Dictator was listening, Dross. TD: We'll see. Up next, we're going to see Creed face Chris Quigley. I understand we can go live to Quigley in his locker room as he prepares for this match. [Cut to Chris Quigley back in his locker room, adjusting tape on his wrists...] TD: Chris? Can you hear me? [Quigley looks up...] CQ: Yeah, I can hear ya, Tim. TD: Chris, tonight you're taking on the impressive newcomer, Creed. You interrupted his debut match, and he really took exception to it. What are your thoughts on his comments and tonight's match? [Quigley runs his hands through his hair and then starts to speak...] CQ: The big comeback... I guess you could call it that... was running through my mind the entire month I took off, Tim. There weren't very many times I really believed I'd never return to the IIWF, but I never knew how I'd come back until I actually walked down that aisle. I was waiting in my car in the parking lot for the longest time, watching the broadcast on a small TV. Finally, I just said to myself, "This is it," and I did what you saw me do. No offence to Creed or Chesire at all, but when I want to do something... I do it! Now I hear Creed talking about how my best days are behind me? Either I hit him with that chair harder than I thought, or he needs to pay more attention to what's going on around him! You saw what I did to the fake "Bad Boy" of wrestling, Randy Acorn, on Wednesday. Acorn is a former Cruiserweight titlist, and I picked him apart like only _I_ can do! Now tonight, it's Creed's biggest opportunity. He's taking on the best! If he wins, he could catapult himself right into the driver's seat of the IIWF. Unfortunately for Creed, I'm a big 18-Wheeler blocking his way, and it's a NO PASSING ZONE! Tonight we're gonna find out who's over the hill, Creed! I can guarantee you it ain't me! TD: I think you're probably right about that, Chris. Now, Dan Kauffman was in the crowd and he took some offense to your comments last Saturday. He seems to want to face you just as much as you want to face him. Comments? [Quigley smiles and shakes his head] CQ: I doubt he wants me as much as I want him, Tim. If he does, I'd have to say he's not the brightest guy on the block. I invite him to come on down tonight. Take a ringside seat. Hell, he can sit in Creed's corner if he wants to. Just so he can get a close up look at the man who _will_ end his title reign! All this talk about Deathbringer... Otto Verhoeven... Cadaver... besides Cadaver I think they're damn good wrestlers. I don't like them, but you can't stop talent. And on that note, I guess there is just _no_ stopping me! Kauffman shouldn't overlook Deathbringer at Snow Brawl, by any means. But he shouldn't let it become an obsession. He's just another man, who uses intimidation as a way to win. It may work on Kauffman, but it would _not_ work on me. That's just the way it is... SR: [interrupting] So why are you dodging Deathbringer and entering the Lethal Lottery instead? TD: Steve! [Quigley rolls his eyes] CQ: It's alright. I'll justify my decision now. I look at it like this... Dan Kauffman _needs_ to fight Deathbringer. They need to get this over with. If they don't, no opponent of Kauffman's will ever wrestle a clean match with him again. "Death will rear its ugly head," and all that kinda tripe. I'll step aside, and let them handle their own affairs. But take into consideration that I think I am the _favorite_ to win the Lethal Lottery, so no matter what decision I made, I believe I'll be getting a title shot in time anyway. And when I do? Dan Kauffman's title reign is _over_! [Quigley slips his shades onto his face and walks out of the camera's view. Cut back to the broadcast table.] TD: That's one determined Chris Quigley. Let's get back up to Sparkplug Lee for the introductions. =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Creed vs. "Quickstrike" Chris Quigley =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= [The cameras pan over the crowd, and there is a mild commotion in the stands as fans jostle around a figure who is seated trying to watch the action. He signs autographs, absentmindedly.] TD: Hey, there's Dan Kauffman again! SR: I'm really getting tired of that dork... I should run up there and kick his ass. TD: Well, why don't you, Steve? SR: You know my back, Dross... The doctors say there's still some problems with it. TD: Hey, I saw you doing the tango in Rome a few days back! SR: And I was in excruciating pain, let me tell you. TD: Sure thing, Steve. I think Sparkpug Lee is ready for the introductions... RA: Ladies and gentlemen... Oh, hi, Dan... [Dan Kauffman waves from the stands and the crowd pops.] RA: Ladies and gentlemen, this next match is scheduled for one fall. Introducing first, being led to the ring by the CEO, Jack Montgomery, and weighing in at 275 lbs, here is Creed! [The lights drop, and a voice is heard softly repeating "Anyone. Anywhere. Anytime." The fourth movement of Beethoven's Ninth Symphony begins to play, and a spotlight shines on the head of the aisle, where Creed and Montgomery stand. Creed looks all around the arena, a cold expression on his face.] TD: Wow. This crowd doesn't know what to make of Creed. His manager, Jack Montgomery, made some comments earlier this evening about this challenge. Let's go to those comments: [Cut to a split screen. On the right, live action shows Creed and Montgomery making their way slowly to the ring. On the right, the dressing room at the Kohl Center as Creed and Jack Montgomery prepare to enter for the match against Chris Quigley. Creed's muscular back is facing the camera, his gloved left hand dangling at his side.] CEO: Excuse my man's rudeness. Creed really isn't ignoring the fans of the IIWF, he's just facing this way because it's the only way Chris Quigley will be able to recognize him. You remember Creed, don't you, Mr. Quigley? The man you cheap-shotted, the man who's going to stand over your broken body tonight. For all the talking you've been doing about Dan Kauffman, Otto Verhoeven, El Super Gecko, one wouldn't think that you've given much thought to this man. But he's thought about you, Chris Quigley. We've learned a lot about you over the last several days. We know your favorite moves, we know your weaknesses, we know what you had for breakfast this morning and we know the prayer you're going to say when your head hits the hospital pillow tonight. Truthfully, I have a good deal of respect for Chris Quigley's accomplishments and that's why it will be such an honor to be present at his final match in the IIWF. Enjoy your retirement, Mr. Quigley, I've heard quilting is a fine hobby. You picked the wrong guy, Quigley. You're about to find out why. [Cut back to live action. The pair walk the length of the aisle and enter the ring.] TD: Yet another intense man. What's the significance of that red glove, though? SR: Why don't you ask him? I'm sure he'd love to demonstrate for you. TD: No thanks. RA: His opponent, weighing in at 238lbs and hailing from Cornerbrook, Newfoundland, Canada, Here is "Quickstrike" Chris Quigley!! [The crowd gives a huge pop, and the lights drop. Several Quigley logos are projected on the floor of the aisle as "For those About to Rock" blares over the PA. Chris walks down the aisle, a spotlight following him the whole way. Chris high-fives some fans along the way, but seems focused on the ring.] TD: What a reaction from this crowd! SR: I think you're mistaken... An announcment on the price of schnitzel dropping was what got these fans cheering. TD: Just stop it. [Quigley enters the ring and notices Kauffman sitting in the stands. Quigley gives a slight nod in acknowledgment, but that's about all. Quigley takes his jacket off and stretches. The ref calls for the bell, and the match begins. Quigley nimbly circles Creed, while Creed has both feet planted on the floor, slowly walking around the ring, looking Quigley up and down. Quigley closes in, and the two men lock up. Quigley gets the advantage and hiptosses Creed, but the big man gets back to his feet instantly, when Quigley catches him in an armdrag. Creed once again gets to his feet and closes in, but Chris is ready for him, and again executes an armdrag, but locks on an armbar once Creed hits the mat. Creed rolls about, trying to break free, but Quigley increases the pressure. Creed makes his way to the ropes, and the ref calls for the break. Quigley gives a clean break, and the two men circle each other again.] TD: Wow. Quigley certainly has kept his edge. SR: Edge, schmedge. Quigley didn't impress me at all there. [The two men go to lock up again, but Creed throws in a knee to Quigley's midsection, slowing him down. Creed hits Quigley with a few rights, then winds up and tattoos him with the red gloved left fist. Quigley goes down to the mat, and rolls over to the ropes, which he uses to help himself up. Creed follows in and tries for a clothesline, but Quigley ducks and allows Creed to go over the top rope and onto the floor. Creed lands on his feet, and hurries around the outside to come into the ring on the opposite side from where he went out, and rolls under the bottom rope. Quigley comes off the ropes and executes a reverse thrust kick as Creed gets up. The crowd pops, and Dan Kauffman appears to be impressed. Creed hits the mat once more, but is dragged up again by Quigley, who throws him into the ropes. Quigley goes off the ropes as well, but Montgomery, on the outside, grabs hold of Quigley's leg and trips him. Quigley falls forward, and Creed uses the opportunity to drop a huge elbow on the back of Quigley's head. The crowd seems to groan in pain, knowing Quigley's past problems with concussions.] TD: Creed picked out a weak spot and went right for it, didn't he? SR: You bet. Except Quigley is one big weak spot, wouldn't you say? [Creed drags Quigley up and drapes him over his shoulder, then executes a running powerslam. Quigley is driven into the mat, and Creed goes for the cover... 1 - 2 - Kickout by Quigley, and the crowd pops. Creed drags Quigley up again and throws him into the ropes. Creed attempts to set Quigley up for a chokeslam, but Quigley ducks under the hand, hooks the arm, and lets his legs swing up to grab Creed's head. He executes a flying leg scissors takedown, and Creed smacks his head on the mat. Quigley follows up with a quick elbowdrop to the centre of Creed's back, then drags him back up. Quigley executes a vertical suplex, and drives Creed's back into the mat. Creed holds his back, and Quigley quickly locks on the Quickstriker. The ref checks Creed for the submission, which Creed does. The ref calls for the bell, and Quigley lets go of the hold. The crowd pops as Quigley climbs to the second rope and holds his arms in the air, then points to Dan Kauffman in the stands. Creed rolls out of the ring and walks up the aisle with Montgomery, where they pass Otto Verhoeven. The fans around Verhoeven cheer for their hometown hero, but Verhoeven doesn't care.] TD: What's he doing out here? SR: Well, if Quigley wants to talk trash about Verhoeven, then he'd better be ready to back up his words. [Quigley notices Verhoeven and steps to the ropes, when Verhoeven points at Quigley and repeats, "You stink! You stink!" Suddenly, the Subway Psycho sprints out from the lockeroom area and attacks Verhoeven, jumping on the big man's back and pounding him with forearms. Big heel pop! Security quickly come out and separate the two, then drag Psycho back up the aisle. Psycho tries to get at Verhoeven, screaming "You're mine!" Verhoeven laughs and points at him, then turns back to Quigley. Verhoeven draws a thumb across his throat and points at Quigley, then turns and heads back up the aisle. Quigley continues his celebration.] TD: Well, Vehoeven has made it clear how he feels about Quigley, and the Subway Psycho has made it clear how he feels about Verhoeven. SR: Don't worry. Verhoeven is going to squash Psycho like an insect later tonight. You just wait and see. TD: How can you be so sure? SR: Let's just say I have a lot of confidence in Verhoeven's game plan. TD: What are you talking about? SR: Don't worry, you'll see. TD: That really sounds ominous, Steve. Just like the combatants in our next encounter. The arrogant "Superstar" Stud Stetson really faces an uphill battle as he goes up against the self-proclaimed "Epitome of Evil" Serge Annis, but he doesn't seem too bothered at the prospect. I went to meet him yesterday evening. Let's go to that footage: [Cut to Tim Dross standing outside in the cold German streets beside a small German pub. Dross is shivering while only wearing a IIWF blazer, white shirt and slacks.] TD: I am standing outside a local German pub where I will be having the unenviable task of speaking with the arrogant "Superstar" Stud Stetson... hopefully to get comments on his brutal attack from last Wednesday, this supposed surprise he has for Snow Brawl, and his upcoming match tomorrow with Serge Annis. Well, let's get inside. [Dross rushes towards the door anticipating the warmth inside. Camera cuts to Dross standing inside the busy local pub. Camera pans around the bar until Stetson is picked up sitting in a small dark corner. Lace is, as usual, at his side. Dross waves to Stetson who doesn't give Dross the time of day. Dross slowly makes his way over to Stetson. Dross takes a seat.] TD: Good day, Mr. Stetson. There are many... SS: Dross, what the HELL do you think you were doing?!? TD: Huh? SS: You drew attention to me. Do you know the problems that can cause? I am the biggest Superstar around the world, and I try to keep a low profile to prevent being mobbed by a bunch of snotnosed punks, and then a moron like yourself comes in with a large television crew and starts waving like a retard towards me. LA: [leaning against Stetson] And someone of my beauty doesn't need these slobs drooling all over me, hon. TD: Uh, sorry. You did tell me to come. SS: I expected you would have more common sense and come alone. Or at least not start yelling my name so a bunch of Nazi drunks can hear. TD: Hey, that was totally uncalled for. There's no need for discrimination of any kind here in the IIWF and I apologize to all the German fans. That had to be the most despicable thing you have ever said. But then again, you have done a lot of despicable things lately. For example, that car attack in midweek. SS: [large grin] That was great, wasn't it? TD: Great?! You tried to send the man to the morgue! SS: Dross, you hairless wonder, what happened on Wednesday night was only a sign of things to come. I already promised Warnett that I am not here to end his life but only his career. You see, Walnut, this must be done because you are hogging my much needed spotlight. Everything I have done to you up to this point has only been a setup for our final meeting. Very soon, Warnett we will meet in the ring and at that point you will be sent out on a stretcher one last time. Speaking of stretchers, you have been carted out by them so often lately you would expect that you would just go out and buy yourself one to cruise around in. [An evil grin comes across Stetson's face] Maybe you should put that on your Christmas list, along with a brand new knee brace. TD: You're terrible. SS: Thank you. I pride myself on being the biggest cocky badass out there. If people are pissed off, I'm happy. TD: Talking about being bad, come this Saturday you will collide with the Epitome of Evil, Serge Annis. SS: Epitome of Evil? I make that guy look like Santa Claus, who Warnett still believes in, by the way. Annis, you haven't seen evil until you hook horns with yours truly. Be prepared for the ass-whupping of a lifetime. You come here with this hot head of yours and proclaim how you are going to take Kauffman out. Well, my poor soul, I am sick of these moronic IIWF bookers looking me over and come this Sauturday night, you will realize why I am the only Superstar of wrestling. Serge, there is noone that is good enough to pin these huge shoulders to the [bleep]ing mat. TD: I recall one Deathbringer doing it last week. SS: That was just mind games, my friend. Deathbringer, I want you to think that you can take me so that when you win that title from Kauffman next Saturday you will see me as an easy target, and then I will snatch the IIWF World title from your grasps. TD: You talk very confidently.. SS: I should, I'm the best thing this sport has ever seen. And if you think the things that have occurred so far have been controversial then you just wait, because the future is going to get a whole lot darker for all these IIWF superstar wannabes. My legend will be shown and the IIWF will be my six pack. TD: [obviously revolted by Stetson's conceit] All right, let's move on. Lace, I would like to address why you weren't in Stetson's corner last week? LA: I was back in the States in negotations concerning Stetson's big unveiling at Snow Brawl. Just making sure that everything is a go. I can now guarantee you that this new addition will be there and will blow the IIWF away. SS: Drossy, it is going to make IIWF history. TD: You constantly talk about this "addition," but what is it? A new wrestler? Manager? What could this revelation be? SS: You will find out on the 21st -- the night Stud Stetson's name will go down in history. The night I not only have the ultimate unveiling, but I win the Lethal Lottery, proving I am the best in the IIWF today. [An evil grin comes across Stetson's face] And I may have a few more things up my sleeve that night as well. But all in all it will be shown that when it comes to Superstars, I put everyone to shame. [Stetson then takes Lace by the arm and leaves the table.] TD: There you go fans, another interesting interview from -- thankfully -- the one and only Stud Stetson. [A waiter comes up to Tim Dross.] WA: Sir, the gentlemen that just left said you are going to pick up his tab. TD: [sigh] How much? WA: 500 American dollars. TD: You're kidding! [looks at the camera man] Hey Rick, how much is that camera worth? [Cut back to the broadcast table.] SR: Dross, don't tell me you didn't have five hundred bucks on you. TD: I don't carry cash, Steve. Besides, I reached an agreement with the manager of the establishment... SR: I won't ask what that was. TD: Very wise. Okay, fans, let's get back up to the ring. =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- "Superstar" Stud Stetson vs. Serge Annis -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= TD: Serge Annis is referred to as the Epitome of Evil. Where do you think he got that from, Steve? SR: I don't know... Maybe he runs a kitten farm or something. Give me a break, Dross. Where do you think he got it? TD: No need to get snappy, Steve. SR: Well, if you keep asking me dumb questions... TD: You'll keep giving me dumb answers? SR: Shut up, rug-boy. RA: Ladies and gentlemen, this contest is scheduled for one fall. Introducing first, weighing in at 285lbs and accompanied by Lace, here is "Superstar" Stud Stetson! [Stetson's ring music plays, and he walks out into the aisle. The crowd boos him, but Stetson merely laughs it up with Lace. Stetson doesn't seem to care about the crowd at all until he spots a fan with the sign "Hey, Stud, how's the car?" Stetson looks a little grim after seeing the sign.] TD: Stetson seems to still be a little upset about his car... SR: I don't think it's about the car. It's about Warnett. Stetson wants to tear him a new... TD: [interrupting] And what a match that will be when they meet... RA: His opponent, weighing in at 293lbs and hailing from Oakville, Ontario, Canada. He is the Epitome of Evil, Serge Annis! [The crowd gives a heel pop, and Annis appears at the head of the aisle, his face a mask of concentration. He simply looks at the ring with Stetson standing in it, seemingly calculating his strategy there and then. Annis walks down the aisle, completely oblivious to the fans who boo him.] TD: Look at this guy. He's like a block of ice! SR: Everyone's talking about the "stone cold" quality lately. This guy wrote the book on it. TD: In the ring, perhaps, but outside it, Annis is certainly unpredictable. Let's go to some comments he made earlier tonight: [Cut to a split screen. On the right, live action shows Annis making his way to the ring. On the left, footage rolls of Serge Annis sitting on a bench in the locker room.] SA: Tonight I embark on a mission of competetion when I face "Superstar" Stud Stetson... Stetson... you may be a superstar, but I could care less. Tonight you are an opponent... a victim. You have your flashy clothes... flashy entrance... flashy attitude. I HATE FLASHY! YOU ARE A CONCEITED FOOL STETSON... and that is what will be your downfall... you over-rate yourself my friend... and I know that is your weakness... but I know of the other weakness... hehe... Superstar... prepare to have your neck snapped in vain... because that is what you are and it will ironically be your finish... from where I came from.. your flashy attitude... your Superstar status means absolutely NOTHING to me! YOU MEAN NOTHING TO ME! [Annis takes out his infamous Zippo lighter and lights it. He stares into the flame as the camera closes in on the flame] Stetson... tonight I will make an example of you... you do not know much about me... so let me tell you one thing... I am not nicknamed the "Epitome of Evil" for nothing! As I look into this flame... I see your "spark," Stetson.... and when we meet in the ring... I will see your soul when we look into each other's eyes... I am not much bigger than you... but I don't rely on size... when you look into my eyes tonight, Stetson.... prepare to look not into the eyes of death... but into the soul-plotting "psychopath".... hehehe... [Annis closes the lighter and the flame disappears.] And just like that.... your spark will be gone... at the hands... of the... EPITOME... OF EVIL!!! [Annis gets up and walks away. Cut back to a normal shot. Annis steps into the ring and just stares at Stetson. Stetson feigns nervousness, and flips Annis off. Annis simply watches, waiting for the moment to strike. The bell rings, and Annis sprints across the ring, lifting a knee into Stetson's midsection. Stetson doubles over, and Annis executes a gutwrench suplex. Heel pop as Annis gets back up and drops an elbow. Stetson just barely gets out of the way and rams his heel down on Annis' stomach. Both men get up slowly, and lock up in the middle of the ring. They battle for the advantage, which takes them into the corner. The ref calls for Annis to make the break, and he does, then rams a shoulder into Stetson's midsection. Annis whips Stetson into the opposite corner, and then follows in, catching a boot to the face for his troubles. The crowd seems distracted by something going on in the stands.] TD: What's going on here... Wait a minute, Dan Kauffman is sitting in the stands again! SR: It figures. Kauffman can't stand not being paid attention to. He's got to come out during other people's matches now. [Kauffman sits in a seat in the stands, taking notes and watching Annis. In the ring, Stetson clothelines the staggered Annis. Annis takes a few steps back, but doesn't fall. Stetson goes for another clothesline, but fails to get Annis down to the mat. Stetson comes off the ropes, but Annis catches him in a chokeslam. Annis drives Stetson into the mat, but doesn't go for the cover. Instead, he goes to the ropes and stares at Kauffman. Kauffman takes some notes on this as well, and Annis yells some insults Dan's way. Annis leaves the ring as Stetson gets back to his feet. As Annis is trying to get over the crowd barriers, Stetson comes off the apron with a double axehandle across the back of Annis' neck. The ref begins a count. Annis is spun around by Stetson, who lays a few hard shots to the head, and then rams Annis' head into the barrier. The count reaches five. Stetson gets Annis in position for a piledriver, but it is blocked by Annis. Annis executes a back body drop, dumping Stetson onto the floor.] TD: These guys are both going to get counted out if they're not careful. SR: I don't think they care, Dross. [Annis continues to climb over the barrier and through the crowd to get to Kauffman, who by now has made a hasty retreat. The ref calls for the bell, ruling the match a double countout. Lace comes over to help Stetson up as Annis fights through the crowd and out one of the doorways. Stetson gets to his feet, cursing the whole time, and he and Lace walk around the ring to the aisle. Suddenly, a wheel from a car comes bouncing and rolling down the aisle, coming to rest right at the ringside area. Stetson's face grows red with anger, and he bolts up the aisle, screaming foul language. Lace follows closely behind.] TD: We apologize for the foul language of Stud Stetson, ladies and gentlemen. SR: I wonder how would you feel if that Walnut punk trashed _two_ of your cars? It must be hell for Stetson to get insured now! TD: You've got a point. Hopefully, this whole thing can get resolved soon. Possibly at Snow Brawl, available only on pay-per-view! Call your local cable operator to order this fine event! SR: You're such a worm, Dross. TD: But I get my Christmas bonus for promoting the company, Steve. SR: Another fifty cents to add to the five bucks you already earn. Wow. TD: Please, there's no need for that. Before we get up to the ring for our next match, let's go to comments from the "Lone Wolf" Brody Thunder, who has some stern words for Casey "Blackheart" James. Casey handed Thunder his first IIWF defeat in midweek -- albeit with the assistance of a loaded fist. Thunder is _not_ a happy man: [Cut to Brody sittin' at a table in his favorite bar... The Shooter's Tavern. He is sitting with his legs on the table. In his gloved hands is a large suitcase. He sets it down on the table as he turns to the camera.] BT: Yer lookin' at a man in search o' one thing... Redemption. Every man seeks it. To atone fer his mistakes. To right the wrongs in his life. That's just what I'm fixin' to do here in the IIWF. Casey James, "Blackheart"... I want you to look into my eyes son. I want you to look me straight in the eye an' tell me you beat me fair'n'square. Y'know what? Ya can't. The reason you can't is because in yer gut you know it took a loaded taped fist an' another punk to get that win. You know it. I know it. The IIWF knows it. [Brody takes out a key and unlocks the suitcase.] Oh, you tattooed me pretty good with that "bad" hand o' yers, I'll give ya that much. But the fact is I took yer best shot.. the heart punch... an' kept on comin'. You know that on yer best day you couldn't beat THIS man straight-up, man-to-man. So don't go out there on television an' be shootin' off yer piehole 'bout beatin' me with a bad hand. All you were was the beneficiary of a biased referee. That's a fact. I want a rematch, plain an' simple. You don't wanna fight me... I don't blame ya. So I'll make it worth yer while to face me one-on-one. [Brody opens the suitcase. The suitcase is full of money neatly bundled.] I'm offerin' you a thousand dollars to step through them ropes an' face me again. No henchmen. No biased referee. No excuses. You an' me. A grand worth o' dead presidents in yer pocket IF you put my shoulders to the mat for the three count. Does that get yer attention, James? [Brody closes the suitcase. He picks it up and heads for the door. He pauses, then turns back to the camera.] Oh yeah, there's just one catch. We're gonna be on an even playin' field this time. [Brody takes off the glove on his right hand. His hand is wrapped in white trainer's tape. He slams the closed taped hand into the other hand.] Y'see it will be a taped fist match. You ain't the only one who can play THAT game, my friend. No rules. No ref. No excuses. You an' me. An' with them odds.... [Brody slams the taped fist into his open hand with a sickening smack.] ...I like my chances. World's waitin' on yer answer, son. Don't keep me waitin'. It ain't in yer health's best interest. See ya soon. [Brody picks up the suitcase and walks out of the bar as the camera fades to black. Cut back to the broadcast table.] TD: There you have it, folks. I expect that Thunder's offer will be one Casey finds hard to resist. Okay, let's get back to the action, as one of Casey's stablemates, three time former Intercontinental Champion Tiger Claw, takes on newcomer Dirt Dog Unique Allah. =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- Dirt Dog Unique Allah vs. Tiger Claw -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= [Sparkplug Lee steps back into the ring.] RA: Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is scheduled for one fall. Introducing first, making his way down the aisle accompanied by Medusa Rage, hailing from Brooklyn, New York, and weighing in at 238lbs, here is... Dirt... Dog... Unique... Allah! [Big mixed pop for Unique as he appears at the head of the aisle with Rage. He swigs out of a bottle concealed in a brown paper bag as they make their way down to the ring, Unique occasionally leaning on his valet for support.] TD: You can bet that isn't mineral water in that bottle, Steve. SR: I doubt it's that great German beer, either. TD: Is Unique even going to be in good enough shape to wrestle this match here tonight? [Unique slowly climbs the ringsteps, and puts his bottle down in the corner. He enters the ring, and the referee tries to discern whether he is cogent enough to wrestle. He holds up a number of fingers to Unique, who appears to be able to answer correctly. The referee looks outside to Medusa, who nods sternly, and the official shrugs, giving the go-ahead to Sparkplug. Unique slumps to the mat in the corner.] RA: And introducing his opponent... hailing from Thailand, and accompanied to the ring by Brian Lau, representing the Syndicate, weighing in at 220lbs, here is... Tiger Claw! [Big heel pop as the chaotic Thai boxing music starts up over the PA and the lights drop, casting Tiger Claw and Brian Lau in a blue glow as they walk down the aisle, taunting the hostile German fans. Claw's face becomes focused as he approaches the ring, and he jumps to the apron, steps through the ropes, and points at Unique, who drags himself to his feet. The referee signals for the bell.] TD: Tiger Claw is the picture of determination here tonight, Steve. He'll want to make a strong showing in this match. SR: But the Dirt Dog is making a strong stench by the looks of things, Dross. [The two wrestlers circle each other, but every time they go to lock up, Claw shies away, holding his nose and arguing with the official.] SR: If you lit the Dirt Dog's breath, he could probably singe your toupee from the ring, Dross. TD: I can understand why Claw would have difficulty locking up with somebody who smells as strong as Unique, Steve. [Eventually, the two wrestlers lock up, and Claw slips Dirt Dog into a headlock. Allah pushes him into the ropes, and Claw fires back with a clothesline that takes his opponent off his feet. He drops an elbow on Unique, before making the cover, but retreating quickly due to the stench. He goes to the ropes to discuss strategy with Brian Lau, while the Dirt Dog gets to his feet and jumps Claw from behind, stomping on his back. Claw tumbles to the outside, and Unique follows him out, attempting to whip him into the steel ringsteps. Claw, however, reverses, and sends Unique careering into the steps. Unique flies over the steps and lands hard on the floor. Claw leaps to the apron, and then to the top turnbuckle, facing away from Unique, before launching himself with a reverse moonsault all the way to the floor, landing on the Dirt Dog! Huge pop!] TD: Wow! What a move! Tiger Claw is really raising the stakes here tonight! I don't recall ever seeing take such a high risk as that moonsault! SR: Next Saturday, Dross, he's going up against a guy who will take just about any risk in the book, Hakiro Matsuoko. Claw's got to prove to Matsuoko that he can match him in that aerial offense -- and remember, those two men trained together for months. Claw's a fast learner. TD: So it would seem. That was a beautiful move. Claw's rolling Unique back into the ring now, and going to the top again... he's signalling for the Golden Tiger Strike! [Just as Claw is about to launch himself at his opponent, Unique rolls out of the way towards his corner. Claw jumps down from the top and follows Unique across the ring. Dirt Dog stands in his corner with his back to Claw.] TD: Hang on! The Dirt Dog's got that bottle in his hand! Get in there, ref! [Claw spins his opponent around, and is met by a faceful of booze. The referee signals for the bell as Dirt Dog nails the stunned Claw in the stomach and hits him with an underhook suplex, before stomping away on the fallen Thai boxer. The referee tries to drag the Dirt Dog away from Claw as Sparkplug Lee announces the official decision:] RA: Ladies and gentlemen, your winner as the result of a disqualification: Tiger Claw! [Brian Lau leaps to the apron as the referee finally forces Unique away. The Dirt Dog takes a slug of alcohol from his bottle, and spits it at Lau, who is enraged. The referee forces the drunk from the ring, and Medusa Rage shakes her head before dragging him away from the ring, talking to her charge. Lau, meanwhile, yells at the official about the damage done to his expensive suit, while Claw coughs in the ring, trying to wipe the alcohol off his face.] TD: Well, I have to say that was a mistake by the Dirt Dog. He was clearly frustrated by Claw's speed advantage, and when you're... er, under the influence... your judgement is easily clouded. SR: I'll say, Dross. Sheesh, you can smell all that booze from here. [Lau helps Claw to his feet, and together the two men make their way up the aisle, swatting away the hands of the jeering fans.] TD: Okay, fans, up next we'll get to see the newly-crowned IIWF World Tag Team Champions in action, but unfortunately, it will be a non title match. SR: That's because Domination doesn't deserve the shot. TD: I wouldn't say that... Domination have really shown their stuff lately in the IIWF! SR: Yeah, and it all stinks... Come on, look at the High Plains Drifters. They were born to wear those belts. TD: Well, we'll see just how well they do tonight. I'm sure if Domination wins, they will have a case for a title shot. SR: Not likely... =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= High Plains Drifters vs. Domination =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= [Sparkplug Lee steps into the spotlight once more.] RA: Ladies and gentlemen, this non-title tag match is scheduled for one fall. Introducing first, accompanied to the ring by Josey Wales, the IIWF tag team champions, The High Plains Drifters! [The crowd gives a heel pop as the trio hits the head of the aisle. Pale and Easy have their belts slung over their shoulders, and polish them with their sleeves. They taunt the fans with the belts and flex their arms... Josey chuckles as he chomps on his cigar.] TD: You've always got to wonder what's going through that devious mind of his. SR: I think the phrase "never trust a Texan" was coined because of Josey Wales. TD: I thought he was from Arizona. SR: Whatever. My point is, he's the kind of guy you have to keep an eye on, because as soon as his business with you is through, he'll toss you away. TD: Well, I guess he still sees some use in Pale and Easy Rider, because he's brought them to the gold twice now. RA: Their opponents, accompanied to the ring by ex-champions, Rising Sun Revolution and the Mistress, Domination! [Upon hearing RSR announced, Pale and Easy begin to complain to the ref. Josey Wales walks up to the ref as well and gives him a talking to. RSR, Domination, and the Mistress all step out to the head of the aisle to a large pop. As they all walk down the aisle, they laugh when they notice that the HPD are so angry about the situation.] TD: The Drifters seem a little upset. SR: And well they should be! RSR aren't managers, they're another tag team. This is obviously a setup or something! [The ref holds up his hands and shakes his head, so the Drifters turn to RSR on the outside and shout curses at them, telling them to "git." Hiroshi stands there, not understanding a word, and Ryudo just laughs. Domination enter the ring and attack the Drifters from behind. The ref hurriedly calls for the bell. Monster beats down on Pale Rider, and Mr. Psycho dropkicks Easy out of the ring. Psycho leaps over the top rope and follows Easy Rider to the floor. Josey Wales steps in to intervene, but The Mistress threatens him with a riding crop. Josey's eyebrows raise and he smiles, saying something along the lines of "You're a fiery one, idnt'cha?" In the ring, Monster continually picks Pale Rider up and slams him back down. After about the fifth time, Pale rolls out under the bottom rope, and Monster roars to the crowd, who roar back at him. RSR applauds on the outside as Psycho throws Easy Rider into the crowd barrier.] TD: The champs seem to have been thrown off their game! SR: Because they got jumped from behind! [Psycho enters the ring to join his partner. Pale and Easy Rider regroup on the outside with Josey Wales, who periodically looks over to the Mistress and winks. Easy Rider enters the ring, and Monster stands out on the apron. Psycho and Easy circle each other, Easy shaking the cobwebs off. The two lock up, and Easy throws a knee into Psycho's groin. Psycho falls to the mat, holding himself, and Easy follows up with some hard kicks to the ribs. Easy picks Psycho up and presses him over his head. The crowd gives a loud heel pop as Easy walks about the ring, holding Psycho in the air. Easy drops Psycho in the middle of the ring and drops an elbow on him. The crowd gives a substantial pop as the Alphabet Boys come down the aisle, sporting brand new IIWF Rising Sun Revolution shirts. They walk up to Ryudo and Hiroshi and begin chatting with them.] SR: Alright, who said to send in the clowns? TD: Abie and Zed have been having quite an obsession with Rising Sun Revolution of late. I wonder what it all stems from. SR: Don't bother trying to figure those guys out. You'll just end up more confused. [RSR try to shoo the Alphabet Boys away, but to no avail. In the ring, Easy drags Psycho into the corner and tags in Pale Rider. Pale comes in and lays a few shots on Psycho while Easy holds him. Monster tries to get into the ring, but is cut off by the ref. Easy chokes Psycho while the ref's back is turned, and Pale continues with the shots to Psycho's midsection. The ref comes back to the HPD's corner and gets Easy out of the ring. Pale executes a monkeyflip, and Psycho lands in the middle of the ring. Pale goes over and drags Psycho up and throws him into the ropes, attempting a hurricarana on the rebound, but Psycho reverses it into a powerbomb. Both men lay on the canvas. Pale crawls toward Easy to make the tag, and Psycho moves slowly to his own corner. Pale makes the tag to Easy, and the big man enters the ring and goes after Psycho. With a sudden burst of speed, Psycho rolls to the corner and makes the tag to Monster, who bellows out as he leaps into the ring. Monster labels Easy Rider with a series of right hands, staggering the cowboy. Pale comes over to try and help, but ends up getting punched a few times as well. Monster has the HPD backed up against the ropes, and clotheslines both of the men out of the ring. Pale and Easy stagger out of the ring, and run into the Rising Sun Revolution, who have failed to get rid of the Alphabet Boys. Hiroshi and Ryudo seem annoyed by the interruption, and they begin pounding on Pale and Easy. Abie and Zed look at each other, nod, and begins pounding on the HPD as well. Pale and Easy are overcome by the assault, and fall to the ground, where they get stomped by the four men. The referee calls for the bell.] SR: Good. it's about time. Disqualify Domination, ref. RA: Ladies and gentlemen, here are your winners as a result of a countout, Domination! SR: What?! Oh, come on! Is the ref blind? TD: Apparently, the ruling is not a DQ because the attack didn't occur inside the ring. Domination beat the champs! SR: No they didn't... Rising Sun Revolution and the Alphabet Boys beat the champs. [Somehow, Easy and Pale Rider break away from the two other teams and hightail it back up the aisle. Abie and Zed, getting a little excited, run after them to beat them a bit more. Ryudo and Hiroshi get into the ring to celebrate Domination's victory, and Josey Wales heads toward the aisle, but not without passing by the Mistress and giving her the eye.] TD: What chaos we just saw in this match! SR: This is a travesty. The first match the Drifters have since they win the belts, and they get robbed. TD: Some might say that RSR got robbed for those very titles. SR: No way... You can't prove that. [Domination and Rising Sun Revolution head back up the aisle, hi-fiving the fans as they go.] TD: Now we can go to the debut of a new superstar here in the IIWF, Ronnie Paris. He's got a tough first match against Hakiro Matsuoko. Any thoughts, Steve? SR: Nein. TD: Fine. Let's go to ringside.... =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- Hakiro Matsuoko vs. Ronnie Paris -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= [Sparkplug Lee steps back into the ring.] RA: This non-title contest is scheduled for one fall with a thirty- minute time limit. Introducing first, weighing 210lbs and hailing from Texas, here is.... Ronnnniiieee Parriiiis! [Queen's "We Are The Champions" starts up over the PA system, and Ronnie Paris walks down the aisle to a good crowd pop, looking focused and determined. He leaps onto the ring apron and steps between the ropes, before asking the ring announcer if he can borrow the microphone.] TD: It looks like Paris has some comments to share with us all.... RP: Hold on, hold on, cut that music. [A moment passes, and the speakers fall silent.] I just want to make a point here in my debut, and my point is this. I don't need entrance music, I don't need fireworks, and I don't need hype. What I do need is your respect, and let me tell you how I'm going to get it. Like you heard last night, I'm not a very exciting guy. What I do is wrestle, and that's it. As a result, President Spreadbury and the rest of the IIWF executives are a little wary of me. They want me to prove myself right away, with a non-title match against the Cruiserweight Champion. So what am I going to do about it? Wrestle. Wrestle cleanly, wrestle fairly, and wrestle well, the only thing I know how to do. So then, Mister Matsuoko, be prepared. I may not beat you, and in fact I'm not sure I can, but you will respect me when I'm done. Good luck, Mister Matsuoko. [Moderate pop. He hands the microphone back to Sparkplug.] SR: Great. That's just what we need: yet another Man Of Steel. TD: That's unfair, Steve. The guy obviously wants to be respected for what he is. RA: And his opponent, weighing in at 215lbs and hailing from Tokyo, Japan, here is the current IIWF Cruiserweight Champion, the "Angel of the Sun" Haaakkirrrooo Maaatsuooookoooooooooo! [Hakiro's kodo music starts up over the PA system, to a good but somewhat mixed pop, and Hakiro walks down to ringside with the Cruiserweight belt around his waist. He vaults into the ring and holds the title in the air, as fireworks explode behind and above the ring, before folding it carefully and handing it to the official. Paris looks on patiently from his corner.] TD: Both men are in the ring, and we're ready to get things underway. [The bell rings, and both men start to circle each other warily. They lock up collar and elbow, both striving to get the advantage. Neither man manages to, and Hakiro backs Paris into the corner. The referee quickly steps between them, and Hakiro breaks cleanly. Both men start to circle again, Hakiro shaking his head as though annoyed at himself. Another lock up, and this time Hakiro twists Paris into a side headlock. Hakiro grinds the hold in, but Paris slips behind him with a hammerlock, before switching around Hakiro into first a facelock, then a headlock of his own. He flips Hakiro over in a headlock takedown, Hakiro retaliates with a headscissors.] TD: Fast wrestling here, and Hakiro's struggling to take the advantage! SR: He's in control, isn't he? TD: Yes, but he still looks uncomfortable... [Paris begins to turn over onto his knees, forcing Hakiro into a sitting position. He then pushes himself up into a crouch, and flips over Hakiro, hooking his legs and bridging his body... Hakiro's shoulders are down! Count - 1 - 2 - Hakiro kicks out at the last second, and Paris rolls away. Hakiro takes his time to get up, looking visibly rattled.] TD: Paris almost caught Hakiro out there! Hakiro doesn't like it one bit! [Hakiro moves to lock up again, more cautiously, and takes Paris into another side headlock, and then into a headlock takedown. This time it's Paris with the headscissors, Hakiro breaks and flips up, catching Paris with a dropkick as he stands. As Paris gets to his feet, Hakiro takes him down with an armdrag and keeps him there with an armbar.] SR: See? Hakiro can outwrestle this guy. He was just taking his time, that's all. [Paris rolls himself into a kneeling position, and then back to a vertical base. He takes hold on Hakiro's arm, and reverses the hold with an armwringer. Hakiro reverses that, Paris re-reverses, and takes Hakiro down with an armdrag. Hakiro springs back to his feet, and straight into another armdrag. Hakiro up again, and a dropkick by Paris sends Hakiro rolling to the outside. Paris holds his arm in the air to a big crowd pop.] TD: You were saying, Steve? SR: That this Paris is one lucky guy, Dross. [Hakiro slams the ring apron in frustration and rolls back into the ring as Paris waits patiently. Hakiro circles Paris, and they both lock up again. Another armwringer by Paris, and he takes Hakiro straight down with an armdrag, and twists the hold into an armbar. Hakiro shakes his head, and gets to his knees, forcing Paris' head back with his hand. Hakiro bodyslams Paris, but Paris holds on to the arm, dragging Hakiro to the mat again.] TD: Try as he might, the Cruiserweight Champion is finding it hard to take the advantage here... SR: Are you jinxing him like you're jinxing the Venusian Death Cell, or what? [Hakiro once again manages to get back to a vertical base. Paris twists the hold into a hammerlock, and sends Hakiro to the canvas with an armbar slam. Paris takes the offensive, and drops straight back to the hammerlock on the floor, driving his knee into the arm. Hakiro yells, and Paris stretches the arm out before dropping another knee across the bicep. Hakiro pushes himself up, and Paris once again twists him into an armwringer.] TD: Paris is showing superbly polished wrestling skills here... Uh-oh! [As Paris tries to wind the arm up again, Hakiro catches him with a kick to the stomach which doubles him up, and Hakiro flips his leg across Paris' neck, before backflipping and attempting a hiptoss. Paris blocks it and takes Hakiro down with one of his own, before running to the ropes. Hakiro drops back to the canvas as Paris comes back, before flipping to his feet and catching Paris by the hair as he comes back for the second time, he runs Paris to the ropes and throws him over the top. Big heel pop as Paris hits the crowd barriers, and Hakiro sinks to his knees, attempting to shake the kinks out of his arm.] TD: That move bought Hakiro some time to regroup. SR: Nope, it bought him the match. There's no way Paris will have the chance to come back now... [As the referee begins to count Hakiro out of the ring, Hakiro runs to the opposite ropes and executes a beautiful plancha dive onto Paris as he struggles to his feet. Hakiro rolls Paris back into the ring, and leaps to first the apron, and then the top rope...] TD: Paris better watch out here... HAKIRO WITH A DROPKICK! [Hakiro quickly rolls Paris over, and hooks the leg - 1 - 2 - kickout by Paris. Hakiro pulls Paris back to his feet and lays into him with a series of roundhouse kicks to the gut, backing him into the ropes. Hakiro whips him across the ring, and catches him on the rebound with a flying clothesline - the cover - 1 - 2 - kickout by Paris again. Hakiro gets to his feet, shaking his arm and wincing, before dropping a legdrop across Paris' neck.] TD: Hakiro has Paris under control, although I think he hurt his arm again with that clothesline... [Hakiro pulls Paris back to his feet, grasps him in a front facelock, and sends him straight back to the canvas with a spinning neckbreaker. Another cover - 1 - 2 - kickout by Paris again. Hakiro pulls Paris back up, and gets caught in a small package. The referee's out of position - 1 - 2 - kickout by Hakiro. Hakiro flips to his feet and takes Paris straight back down with a kneelift, before dropping three elbowdrops and a legdrop onto him...] TD: Hakiro looks unhappy that Paris managed to almost catch him out again. Picking Paris back do his feet... A series of kicks... snap suplex! A cover! One! Two! Kickout! And Paris is showing some stamina now! [Hakiro stomps on Paris a few times, and pulls him back to his feet. He whips Paris into the corner, and follows through with an elbow charge...] TD: ...And Paris ducked out of the way! Hakiro hit the ringpost hard! [Hakiro doubles up clutching his arm, and turns back towards Paris, who scoops him over his shoulder, before dropping him across his knee into a shoulderbreaker. He picks Hakiro back up, and nails a side Russian legsweep! Cover - 1 - 2 - Kickout by Hakiro! Paris slips behind Hakiro in a waistlock, and executes a German suplex with a bridge - 1 - 2 - kickout by Hakiro again. Paris picks Hakiro back to his feet and attempts an Irish whip... Hakiro reverses... a weak clothesline attempt and Hakiro gets caught in a crucifix! 1 - 2 - ] TD: Three! No, almost! Hakiro is in real trouble here now... I don't think he expected this much competition from Paris, not this close to Snow Brawl.... [Huge heel pop from the crowd!] SR: And look who's coming to ringside. TD: Tiger Claw?! [Tiger Claw makes his way to the ring, and stands at the head of the aisle, watching the match. Paris walks across to the ropes, and asks Claw what he's doing, but Claw just shrugs and motions to Hakiro. Paris glances at him warily and turns back around... and Hakiro catches him with a punch to the stomach from on his knees.] TD: It seems that Tiger Claw's mere presence can affect matches these days. SR: Can he help it if Paris doesn't stay focused on Hakiro? TD: I suppose not... [Hakiro catches Paris with another punch to the stomach, and then gets to his feet, catching Paris with a reverse kick that knocks him to the canvas. He starts to pick Paris up when he notices Tiger Claw. Hakiro pauses for a second, scowls, and turns his attention back to Paris. Tiger Claw's face darkens. Hakiro picks Paris to his feet, twists his head over his shoulder, and drops to the canvas with a hard reverse neckbreaker. The cover - 1 - 2 - kickout! Hakiro moves into the corner and begins to climb the turnbuckles, stopping to glance at Tiger Claw, who stares right back. Hakiro leaps with a flying elbowdrop...] TD: ...and Paris rolls out of the way! SR: But Paris is still down! [Hakiro struggles to his feet, clutching his arm while Tiger Claw howls with laughter, and Paris starts to get to his feet as well. Hakiro glares at Tiger Claw, who immediately stops laughing and begins to goad Hakiro. Hakiro shakes his head and turns back to Paris again. Claw slams his hands on the ring apron angrily, and Hakiro whips Paris to the ropes. Paris ducks under Hakiro's clothesline attempt, comes off the opposite ropes and locks in a sleeperhold, much to Tiger Claw's amusement. Hakiro staggers for a second, then catches hold of Paris' head and drops him into a jawbreaker. On the outside, Tiger Claw's patience finally snaps and he rolls into the ring and hits Hakiro from behind... The referee signals for the bell as the two begin to trade blows.] TD: Oh, come on! Paris worked his heart out! The match can't end like this! SR: I'm afraid it has, Dross. Don't worry, you'll get over it. RA: Here is your winner via disqualification... the "Angel of the Sun" Haaaakkirrroooooooo Maaatsuooookoooooooooo! [Huge heel pop. The men in the ring ignore the announcement, and continue to brawl. Ronnie Paris rolls to his knees and puts his hands to his head, looking bewildered and disappointed. Tiger Claw takes the advantage over the tired Hakiro, and backs him into a corner, unloading with a combination of his Knee and Punching Fury. The bell rings again, and Paris leaps to his feet, runs across to Tiger Claw and spins him around. Claw sneers, and starts to turn back, and Paris pushes him again. Claw tries a spinning backhand, but Paris blocks and counters with a big right hand of his own!] TD: It looks like Paris isn't too pleased that Claw cost him the match... SR: Tough. Now Claw's going to kill him. [Big crowd pop! Another punch. Claw staggers backwards. Paris picks him up and nails him with an atomic drop that sends him staggering into the ropes. And Paris knocks him to the outside with a dropkick! Claw snarls, but thinks better of returning to the ring. Paris holds his hands up in the air to another big crowd pop, and Hakiro, still slumped against the turnbuckles, wipes his lip and glares at Paris, before hitting him from behind with his trademark spinning leg lariat. Big heel pop! Hakiro jumps out of the ring, and begins to follow Claw up the aisle, leaving Paris to get up dazedly and follow him out.] TD: My heart goes out to Ronnie Paris here, Steve. He deserved to take the victory against Hakiro Matsuoko. SR: He deserved nothing of the sort, Dross. He's just a rookie kid who scored a few lucky hits in the match. TD: Paris proved tonight that he's no rookie, Steve. He's going to be one to watch in the Lethal Lottery, I guarantee it. And the next match could well prove to be a classic. The "Enigma" Takezo Musashi will take on the IIWF World Champion Dan Kauffman in a non-title match. SR: Huh. If "Hot air" Kauffman was a true fighting champion, the belt would be on the line here. TD: You know the booking committee aren't allowing any title matches to take place this close to Snow Brawl. I'm sure Dan would have gladly defended the title against a competitor as worthy as the Enigma. SR: Yeah? I doubt it. TD: [sighs] Let's go to Sparkplug at ringside... =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- Dan Kauffman vs. "Enigma" Takezo Musashi -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= RA: The following contest is a non-title match scheduled for one fall, with a thirty minute time limit. Introducing first, weighing in at 211lbs and hailing from Tokyo, Japan, here is the "Enigma" Taaaaaaazzeekkkooooo Muuuuusssaaaaasshiiiiiii!! [The Enigma's mystical oriental music starts up over the PA system to a huge crowd pop, and the Enigma appears from behind the curtains, holding his hands in the air. He sprints down to the ring, slapping the fans' hands on the way, and vaults onto the apron, then to the top rope, and somersaults into the ring, causing Sparkplug to scurry out of the way...] RA: *ahem* And his opponent... [Incredible crowd pop as "Zero" starts up over the PA system... Sparkplug's voice is almost drowned out by the noise.] RA: ...weighing in at 230lbs and hailing from Hagerstown, Maryland, here is the current IIWF World Heavyweight Champion... Daaaaaaaaaannnnn Kaaaaaaaauuufffffmmaaaaaannn!!! [Dan Kauffman appears at the head of the aisle with the World Championship belt over his shoulder, and the crowd go wild. As he approaches the ring, however, the arena lights flicker, causing an apprehensive murmur to pass through the crowd...] SR: Uh-oh... You know what _that_ means..... TD: Could Deathbringer indeed be watching Kauffman here? Will it affect Kauffman's performance? SR: [under his breath] Tune in to the next exciting episode of... [As the lights return to normal, Kauffman stops in the aisle, shaking his head and smiling, before making beckoning gestures. Huge crowd pop!] TD: No, I guess it won't. Kauffman's personal demons appear to have been buried along with his match with Cadaver. [Kauffman steps into the ring, and leaps to the second turnbuckle, holding the World belt in the air, drawing another huge crowd pop, before dropping down to the canvas and handing it to the referee, who displays it to the crowd one last time before passing it to the timekeeper. The referee signals for the bell.] SR: Finally we're ready to get underway. These two were beginning to bore me... oh, come on! [In the ring, the "Enigma" offers his hand to Kauffman, who accepts.] SR: Kick him, Enema! Go on, do it! TD: You have no conception of sportsmanship whatsoever, do you? SR: Sure I do. Taking part's important, but winning's everything. TD: Oh, brother... [Kauffman and the Enigma circle warily, and lock up. Both men struggle hard, and it is Kauffman who gets the advantage with a switch into a waistlock. The Enigma tries to reach Kauffman's head and leg, and failing in this, ducks down and switches behind Kauffman into a hammerlock, before switching that into a headlock. Kauffman, predicting the move, instantly attempts to take the Enigma down with a back suplex, but the Enigma flips over to his feet and attempts a kick as Kauffman turns. Kauffman catches his foot, and the Enigma attempts an enzuigiri, Kauffman ducks it, and the Enigma incredibly manages to land on his feet. Both men run to the opposite ropes, Kauffman drops to the mat, the Enigma leaps over, and Kauffman catches him with a hiptoss on the rebound. The Enigma flips straight back to his feet to a big crowd pop, and hits Kauffman with a dropkick. Kauffman flips back to his feet. Another big crowd pop!] TD: And that action was almost too fast to follow! [The Enigma and Kauffman begin to circle, and lock up again. Kauffman takes the advantage again, this time with a headlock takedown. The Enigma quickly responds with the headscissors. Kauffman kicks out, and is staggered straight away by another dropkick from the Enigma. The Enigma takes Kauffman down with a headlock, and it's Kauffman's turn to use the headscissors to escape and take the Enigma down with a dropkick! Huge crowd pop!] TD: This is fast-paced action at its best! SR: It could go on all night... Someone rake the eyes! That'll slow it down... [The Enigma and Kauffman lock up again, and Kauffman locks on the side headlock. The Enigma, unable to switch out, backs Kauffman into the ropes, and attempts to throw Kauffman off with an Irish whip. Kauffman hangs on grimly, pulling up short in the centre of the ring, and taking the Enigma down with a headlock takedown. He pushes the Enigma's shoulders to the mat - 1 - the Enigma rolls Kauffman over into a cradle - 1 - 2 - Kauffman rolls out, and cinches the headlock on tight. The Enigma tries to roll over, fails, and tries to roll Kauffman back into a pinning position again, but only gets him halfway this time before he drops back.] TD: The champion's starting to exert his authority now. SR: It's a resthold. TD: Excuse me? SR: He's tired already. So much for the super-fit Dan Kauffman. TD: I... oh, what's the point? [The Enigma tries to switch out of the headlock again, and this time succeeds in getting to his knees. Kauffman immediately switches the headlock into a front-facelock, keeping him there. The Enigma crosses his arms under Kauffman's chin, and pushes himself back to his feet. He quickly takes hold of Kauffman's legs, lifting and dropping him into an inverted atomic drop. As Kauffman spins around, winded, the Enigma leaps at him from behind with a bulldog... a quick cover - 1 - 2 - easy kickout by the champion. The Enigma drags Kauffman straight back up, and takes him over and down with a Japanese armdrag, and twists the hold into a Fujiwawa armbar, planting both feet into Kauffman's shoulder and pulling back hard. Kauffman's face twists in pain.] TD: And just like that, the match turns. [Kauffman pushes himself up to his knees, and manages to roll the Enigma back into a pinning position - 1 - The Enigma forces Kauffman back down onto the mat, and switches the hold into a hammerlock, before dropping a knee across the arm. He then drags the arm up, and drops a legdrop across the shoulder. He then locks on a Judo-style hold on Kauffman's arm, and Kauffman scrambles frantically trying to break...] SR: What's that the Enigma's using? TD: It appears... it looks like a figure-four arm lock! SR: A figure-four arm lock? Yeah, right. TD: There is such a hold, Steve. And the Enigma's got it hooked on pretty tight. SR: Well, whatever it is, it's working.... [Kauffman collapses to the mat under the Enigma, his face contorted in pain. The referee asks him for the submission, but he shakes his head violently and kicks the mat in protest, before gritting his teeth and using his spare arm to push himself -- and the Enigma's weight -- up to his knees. He pauses for a second, and the referee asks for the submission again, but again Kauffman refuses, and immediately pushes himself up to his feet, and reaches out for the ropes, just managing to catch them. The Enigma breaks the hold, and Kauffman's arm falls practically lifeless... and a huge heel pop from the crowd informs that someone is on their way to ringside...] TD: It looks like the Enigma numbed that arm... not a bad tactic at all. It'll make it a lot harder for Kauffman to do the "Lights out"... Hold on, here's Casey James. What's that he's got with him? SR: Looks like he wants to make another little home video... Kauffman's Sports Injuries, Volume One! TD: Volume One? SR: The other six'll come when Casey gets a piece of him! [Casey James stops at the head of the aisle, and appears to be recording the match... The Enigma moves towards Kauffman, who kicks out at the Enigma's stomach, catching him just enough to stagger him. Kauffman hits him with a couple of knife hands across the chest, and the Enigma responds with a push back to the ropes and an Irish whip... Dan reverses, tries a clothesline, only for the Enigma to catch him with a shoulderbuster. He tries to follow up with a reversed armbar, but Kauffman scrambles back to his feet, and backs off into a corner, clutching his arm. Casey stops filming for a second, and shakes his arm, wincing in mock sympathy. The crowd near him erupt with taunts.] TD: That armlock has seriously rattled Kauffman... He's trying to slap some life back into it... [The Enigma moves in again, this time with a kick of his own. He drags Kauffman out of the corner, and catches him with an armwringer.] TD: And Kauffman ducks his head, catching the Enigma with a variation of a Northern Lights Suplex! The bridge! One! Two! Kickout! But that was close! [Both men push themselves back up to their feet, the Enigma recovering slightly quicker, and he targets Kauffman with a side kick, Kauffman goes down - 1 - 2 - kickout! The Enigma picks Kauffman back to his feet, and appears to notice Casey for the first time. He glares at him, and whips Kauffman into the ropes. Again, the Enigma seems slightly put off by Casey's presence, and puts his head down early... Kauffman pulls up short, hits the Enigma with a kick to the stomach, and quickly follows up with a DDT. A cover, hooks the leg - 1 - 2 - kickout by the Enigma! Kauffman starts to pick him up, and he notices the smirking Casey. Casey grins at him, looks through the camera lens, and holds up his thumb. Kauffman complains to the referee, who looks at Casey and shrugs.] SR: Well, just what did Kauffman expect the referee to do? Tell Casey off? TD: It wouldn't have been a bad start... SR: Yeah. And as if he'd pay attention. [Kauffman moves back over to the Enigma, who nails him with a blow to the midsection. Kauffman winces, and the Enigma hits another, and follows up with a knee lift. He whips Kauffman into the ropes... and connects with a beautiful Frankensteiner! The cover - 1 - 2 - kickout! The Enigma picks Kauffman up... bodyslam... he picks him up again, whips him to the ropes and attempts a lariat... duck under by Kauffman... both men come back off the ropes...] TD: And a double cross body block! Both men are down and hurt! [The referee starts counting, but the Enigma recovers by the three-count, and seeing Kauffman still on the mat, he gives Casey James a wary glance, and moves over to pick the Kauffman up. Casey puts the video camera down carefully and watches intently. The Enigma tries another Irish whip, and Casey yells at him. The Enigma glares at him, then goes for a leapfrog...] TD: And Kauffman catches him with the "Powerplant" spinebuster! Out of nowhere! SR: Casey's in the ring! Yes! This is great! [Casey James leaps through the ropes and nails Kauffman with an axehandle over the back, before pulling him top his feet and hooking him up for a jack-knife powerbomb that sends Kauffman crashing back down to the mat. The referee calls for the bell, and the Enigma starts to recover, just as Casey nails Kauffman with a Blackheart Punch... Casey turns to the crowd with a sick grin on his face, and yells a stream of abuse. Big heel pop! The Enigma pulls himself back up in the corner, and sees Casey stroll back to Kauffman, and set him up for another Blackheart Punch...] TD: And the Enigma from behind with a savate kick! Casey's staggered! The Enigma's unloading on him with lefts, rights and a series of kicks... [Huge heel pop from the crowd...] SR: Here comes Tiger Claw! [Tiger Claw rolls into the ring, and nails the Enigma from behind with an elbowsmash. Huge mixed pop!] TD: Hakiro Matsuoko! This one's getting way out of control! [Casey James and Tiger Claw begin to double team the Enigma, the bell rings again, and as Hakiro enters the ring and nails Tiger Claw with his spinning leg lariat, the mixed pop turns into a huge face pop! Kauffman starts to recover in the middle of the chaos, and trips Casey James, before laying a series of punches into him on the canvas. The Enigma and Hakiro whip Tiger Claw into the ropes, and catch him as he comes back with a double clothesline. Hakiro picks Claw up and nails him with a reverse kick, and the Enigma swings kicks out, but Tiger Claw falls away and he catches Hakiro a glancing blow, who falls back stunned.] TD: Kauffman has Casey James back on his feet! James with a punch that staggers Kauffman to the ropes... Casey with a running clothesline... backdrop to the outside by Kauffman! [The Enigma hits Tiger Claw with a dropkick that sends him flying out of the ring, and turns into a spinning leg lariat from the Angel of the Sun! Big heel pop! Hakiro wipes his mouth, looking for blood, before picking the Enigma up and swinging his arm back for a punch...] TD: And Kauffman blocks the punch for the Enigma! And now he and the Enigma with a double kick to Hakiro's stomach, and they throw him to the outside! SR: I still don't know what the result of this match is! [Kauffman raises the Enigma's arm in the ring, as Tiger Claw and Hakiro Matsuoko begin to brawl on the way back to the dressing rooms. Casey James follows them, looking back at Kauffman and grinning, drawing his hand across his throat, before turning and heading back towards the dressing rooms.] RA: As a result of outside interference, the referee has ruled this match a no contest! [In the ring, Kauffman and the Enigma look at each other, and the champ offers the Enigma his hand. The Enigma accepts, and the two leave the ring to a huge crowd pop, and make their way back down the aisle.] TD: What an incredible encounter that was! Okay, fans. It's the moment we've all been waiting for. SR: What, you're retiring? TD: [sighs] No, Steve. If you'll excuse me, I must go up to the ring to speak with the IIWF President. SR: Please, feel free. Don't hurry back. I'll just do a little bonding with those peons out there in TV-land. TD: Well, just remember the ratings... and the censors. [Dross gets up and leaves the broadcast position, climbing the ringsteps and entering the ring, clutching a microphone. In the ring, a couple of attendants stand in front of a large and unwieldy piece of machinery which looks like a transparent plastic barrel containing a number of balls. The lights in the arena drop, so that the ring is bathed in the glow of the overhead rigging.] TD: [to the crowd] Ladies and gentlemen, we are just seven days away from the greatest IIWF pay-per-view spectacular of all time. I am, of course, talking about IIWF Snow Brawl. [Big pop!] One of the premier attractions at this fantastic event will be the Lethal Lottery, a series of six randomly-determined tag team elimination matches, the winning partnerships of which proceed to do battle in a twelve-man friend-against-foe over-the-top-rope battle royal to determine the top contenders to both the IIWF World Heavyweight Championship and the IIWF Intercontinental Championship! [Confused pop from the crowd.] SR: [over the headset] Way to go, Dross. Why don't you make the sentence a little longer?! TD: Fans, tonight we will find out just who will face whom in those six tag team matches. Tonight the draw will be made! [Pop!] Will you please welcome, to make the draw, the IIWF President, Daniel Spreadbury! [Moderate pop as the IIWF President appears at the top of the aisle, accompanied to the ring by Poutine Janois, head of the IIWF Special Concerns Committee. Cut to a split screen as the officials make their way to the ring, with Steve Roberts at the broadcast table on the right.] SR: Okay, morons, listen good. While those worthless suits try not to trip over the laces of their Timberlands on the way to the ring, let me make this real simple for you. There are twenty-four wrestlers in the Lethal Lottery draw, and earlier tonight, they drew numbers from a bag. Those numbers are printed on the ridiculous coloured balls you see in that nightmarish plastic contraption in the ring. One or other of those bespectacled goons in there will activate that machine, and providing it doesn't explode before performing its designated duty, it will spew out balls, which will determine the partnerships and their opponents. I'm told it will all become crystal clear when we get underway, but that's what Becky told me about this German phrasebook, too. While we're waiting for Dictator Danny to work out how to climb the ringsteps, let's run down the numbers drawn by the wrestlers: [The image of Roberts is replaced by a scrolling list of wrestlers' names next to their designated coloured balls:] 1. "Superstar" Stud Stetson 13. The Sandman 2. The Hangman 14. Casey "Blackheart" James 3. American Patriot 15. Serge Annis 4. Harlequin Chaos 16. Lord Byron 5. Mad Dog Watkins 17. Otto "the Butcher" Verhoeven 6. Subway Psycho 18. Steve "the Fury" Kowalski 7. Onslaught 19. Venusian Death Cell 8. "Quickstrike" Chris Quigley 20. Creed 9. Marty Warnett 21. Harlequin Tragedy 10. The White Phoenix 22. Ronnie Paris 11. Mr. Damage 23. "Lone Wolf" Brody Thunder 12. Cheshire 24. Dirt Dog Unique Allah [Cut back to the normal shot. President Dan and Poutine Janois stand beside Tim Dross in the ring.] TD: All right! Welcome to Berlin, President Dan! [Pop!] DS: It's good to be here, Tim. Let's get this draw underway. [President Dan beckons to one of the attendants standing beside the clumsy-looking machine, and the man presses a button on the side of the contraption. The barrel begins to spin, sending the balls rattling around inside it. At the same time, fireworks explode on the four ring posts. The crowd begins to applaud. A few moments later, the machine shudders and spews four balls in quick succession into a clear plastic tube at the front of the assembly. The other attendant reads out the numbers.] AT: 16 and 21 will face 19 and 7. TD: That's Lord Byron and Harlequin Tragedy teaming up against the Venusian Death Cell and Onslaught! What a pair of unhappy partnerships those will be -- particularly given the history between Byron and Tragedy. SR: [over the headset] What a surprise. Already it looks like a fix. [The machine judders into life again, and spews out four more balls.] AT: 13 and 20 will face 17 and 18. TD: The Sandman and Creed will team to face Otto "the Butcher" Verhoeven and Steve "the Fury" Kowalski! That match is going to be an explosion! Can the ring hold four egos of that size? [The machine belches another four balls.] AT: 23 and 14 will face 10 and 15. TD: "Lone Wolf" Brody Thunder and Casey "Blackheart" James will battle the White Phoenix and Serge Annis! Thunder and James could make a phenomenal partnership, but you have to wonder whether the Phoenix will be able to work with Annis. [The machine shudders and shakes before spitting out four more balls.] AT: 6 and 5 will face 11 and 4. TD: The Subway Psycho and Mad Dog Watkins will square off against Mr. Damage and Harlequin Chaos! What a match that will be! [Four more balls shoot out into the plastic tube.] AT: 3 and 9 will face 1 and 22. TD: The American Patriot and Marty Warnett will join forces to go up against newcomer Ronnie Paris and "Superstar" Stud Stetson. Stetson and Warnett have been drawn against one another! You almost have to pity the Patriot and Paris for being caught in the crossfire between these two IIWF superstars, although whether Warnett will even be able to wrestle is still open to question. SR: [over the headset] Whether Warnett could ever wrestle to start with isn't such a debated issue, of course. We all know he thinks a clothesline is something for getting your garments dry. No, what am I saying? Warnett doesn't wash anything... [The machine shoots out another four balls.] AT: 24 and 12 will face 2 and 8. TD: Dirt Dog Unique Allah and Cheshire will team against the Hangman and "Quickstrike" Chris Quigley! Well, there you have it, fans. All twelve partnerships are now drawn, and the six matches are signed! [Big pop from the crowd!] SR: [over the headset] The Hangman will hang the Dirt Dog and Cheshire out to dry, and then take Quigley apart too. That could be a great match. TD: Mr. President, thank you for being out here tonight to draw these matches. DS: Hold on a moment, Tim. I brought Mr. Janois, head of the IIWF Special Concerns Committee, down to the ring tonight for a reason. In the light of various events over the course of the evening here in the Kohl Centre, the Committee, in consultation with myself and the involved parties, has sanctioned two changes to other matches on the card for Snow Brawl. [Big confused pop from the crowd.] TD: What do you mean, Mr. President? DS: Due to the continued enmity between the IIWF Cruiserweight Champion, Hakiro Matsuoko, his former ally Tiger Claw, and longtime foe, the "Enigma" Takezo Musashi, I am here to announce that the IIWF Cruiserweight Championship match at Snow Brawl will become a triangle elimination match involving those three athletes! [Big pop!] DS: The "Enigma" has been lobbying my office over the past week, petitioning me to add him to the Cruiserweight match, citing not only his impressive winning streak but also his history with the other competitors as reasons for including him. I was not willing to make the change until tonight. Over the course of tonight's show, we have seen two altercations between these three athletes, and Mr. Janois met backstage earlier tonight with Takezo Musashi, who once again reiterated his desire to participate in the match. Thus, in the hopes that making this change will resolve the situation between these three athletes, Musashi _will_ participate in the Cruiserweight Championship match! [Big pop!] TD: That's tremendous news for Musashi, Mr. President. Perhaps you could clarify the rules for this encounter? DS: Of course, Tim. The match will proceed like a tag team encounter, with two wrestlers in the ring at any one time. The match continues until two of the combatants have been eliminated, by any of the usual methods -- pinfall, submission, countout or disqualification. In short, if a decision goes against the Champion, he will lose the title, and one or other of the remaining two athletes will be crowned Cruiserweight Champion! The last man standing takes home the prize! SR: [over the headset] Great. Take one of the most eagerly-anticipated rematches in IIWF history, between Matsuoko and Tiger Claw, and throw the distraction of the "Enema" in there. Nice move, Dictator Danny. DS: The other change I am here to announce tonight involves the IIWF World Tag Team Championship match between reigning champs, the High Plains Drifters, and the team they defeated to grab the titles, Rising Sun Revolution. I have been lobbied constantly by the Armed Forces over the course of the past week since I announced the match last Saturday, and as you heard earlier tonight, they are not afraid to voice their unhappiness in a most public fashion. As a result, I have allowed them to enter the Tag Team Championship match, creating a tag team triangle elimination match for the titles. [Big heel pop!] SR: [over the headset] You can tell this isn't popular with these German idiots. Dictator Danny bows to justified pressure, and immediately these peons accuse him of bias. TD: So the Armed Forces, the High Plains Drifters and Rising Sun Revolution will compete on equal terms for the IIWF World Tag Team Championship? DS: Yes they will, Tim, and to ensure fair play, I have enforced a ban on managers from ringside for this match. The champions will be without the "Outlaw" Josey Wales, and the Armed Forces will be without Aaron the Caddy. [Big pop!] SR: [over the headset] Oh, you're kidding me! That's like having Abbott without Costello, or Laurel without Hardy, or... Becky LaRue without gratuitous sexual innuendo! DS: I feel that such measures are necessary to keep things on as level a playing field as possible. The rules for this encounter will be otherwise broadly similar to those for the Cruiserweight Championship Triangle Match. That's all I have for now, Tim. TD: President Dan, thanks for being with us here tonight in Germany. [to the crowd] Ladies and gentlemen, the IIWF President! [Big pop for President Dan and Poutine Janois as they leave the ring and make their way back up to the locker room. The two attendants attempt to move the machine, but the barrel comes dislodged, and scatters small balls all over the canvas. Tim Dross walks towards the ropes, and slips on a number of the balls, falling hard on his behind. Huge pop and laughter from the crowd! Dross slides from the ring, looking highly embarrassed, before returning to the broadcast position.] SR: [laughing hard] You clumsy moron, Dross! That was great! Almost as good as the time you got the snot beaten out of you by the Venusian Death Cell! TD: Oh, ha ha. Very funny, Steve. Perhaps the production department should budget a little more for precision equipment like that Lethal Lottery machine. SR: Precision equipment?! That's like saying that your toupee is as real as hair gets! TD: Please, can we leave my hair out of this! Fans, IIWF Snow Brawl is rapidly shaping up to be the most anticipated pay-per-view event in history! With all four championships on the line, the Lethal Lottery itself, a tag team battle royal to determine top contendership to the World Tag titles, a special "Winner Gets Contract" match and a "Valet Match" between Mistress Sasha and Nurse Heidi, you'd be mad to miss this incredible spectacular! Contact your local cable operator now! And speaking of Sasha and Heidi, their respective charges are about to take to the ring in tonight's main event. Here on Otto Verhoeven's home turf, he will face long-time foe the Subway Psycho in a match that the People's Champion hopes will end their feud, and thus allow Sasha to pull out of her match with Heidi. SR: Dross, if it comes to it, _I'll_ get in there and make sure that things between Verhoeven and the Psycho aren't resolved... There's nothing I want to see more than those two chicks going at it. TD: Steve, please. It's long been IIWF policy that there is no place for women's wrestling in this organisation, and it's only under extremely extenuating circumstances that the IIWF President has sanctioned this match. SR: What are you talking about, Dross?! What red-blooded male doesn't want to see two hot babes beating the snot out of one another? TD: Well, when you put it like that... Let's get up to the ring for the introductions. I hope they've swept the rest of those balls away. =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- Otto "the Butcher" Verhoeven vs. Subway Psycho -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= RA: Ladies and gentlemen, it's time for tonight's main event! [Big pop!] The following match is scheduled for one fall. Introducing first, hailing from the subways of New York City, weighing in at 255lbs, and accompanied to the ring by Mistress Sasha, here is... the People's Champion... the Subway Psycho! [Surprising heel pop for the Psycho as the lights drop and the single headlight of a speeding subway train illuminates the video wall, casting the figures at the head of the aisle in silhouette.] TD: These German fans don't take to the Psycho too well, Steve. SR: What do you expect, Dross? Otto Verhoeven is a national hero! Hey, who's the old guy? [The Psycho is accompanied not only by Mistress Sasha, but also by an old man, who walks arm in arm with Sahsa behind the Psycho, whose focus is on the ring. The Psycho climbs the ringsteps, enters the squared circle, and asks Sparkplug for the microphone.] SP: Ladies and gentlemen... [He is booed by the crowd. He waits for the noise to die down.] I don't care whether you cheer me or boo me tonight, people, because tonight I'm a man on a mission. Tonight, this train has only one stop -- a head-on collision with Otto Verhoeven. One of us is going to be derailed, Butcher, and I'll tell you right now, it isn't going to be me! [Heel pop!] Allow me to introduce somebody very dear to my heart... a man you know very well, Mr. Verhoeven. Ladies and gentlemen, will you welcome the impresario of a well-known local wrestling promotion, and father of my friend and confidant, Mistress Sasha... here is Frederick Dornow! [Big heel pop as Sasha helps her father into the ring. He waves to the crowd and shakes the Psycho's hand before leaving the squared circle once more. The Psycho hands the microphone back to Sparkplug Lee.] TD: You have to wonder whether this is a good move by the Psycho... He's trying to gain the psychological advantage on Verhoeven here by bringing out Sasha's father, but I can only imagine that making Verhoeven all the more determined to beat the Psycho tonight. SR: As if he needed any more encouragement, Dross. Sometimes I wonder whether the Stinker really is as stupid as he looks. RA: And introducing his opponent... [Big pop!] Accompanied to the ring by Nurse Heidi, weighing in at 340lbs, here is... Otto... "the Butcher"... Verhoeven! [The crowd explodes into a huge pop, and a sea of foam meat cleavers greets Verhoeven and Heidi as they step out into the aisle and head down to the ring. Verhoeven attempts to conceal his pride at the reception he is receiving but fails. As soon as he arrives at ringside, he heads round to the side of the ring where Sasha and her father stand. He points threateningly at Dornow, whose daughter steps in front of him to protect him. As Verhoeven advances, the Psycho sizes him up and launches himself over the top rope with a spectacular plancha which sends both men careering into the steel crowd barriers, almost kneecapping the fans in the front row. Big pop! The Psycho and Verhoeven go at it on the outside, the Psycho taking the early advantage by whipping the Butcher into the ring steps. Verhoeven hits hard, and his momentum sends him flying over the steps, landing sprawled on the padded floor. The Psycho jumps to the apron, runs round the ring, and launches himself with an elbow drop from the apron to the floor! Big pop!] TD: Look at the intensity of the Subway Psycho! This match isn't even officially underway, and these two are already going at it tooth and nail! [The Psycho drags Verhoeven to his feet and throws him into the aisle. He stomps the Butcher, who fights to his feet, and sets him up for a powerbomb.] SR: You're kidding me! The Stinker can't lift 340lbs of German juggernaut! [The Psycho attempts to powerbomb the huge German, but fails on his first attempt to lift him. As he steels himself for a second attempt, Verhoeven charges the Psycho, ramming him into the steel crowd barriers. Big pop! Verhoeven drags his opponent to his feet, hoists him up above his head in a military press slam, and then drops him hard across the crowd barriers, throat first! The Psycho rolls on the floor, clutching his throat, and Verhoeven begins stomping away at him. Sasha's father pushes past his daughter, and heads up the aisle to confront Verhoeven, despite Sasha's attempts to restrain him. Verhoeven is only too happy to turn his attention to the old man, but Sasha manages to stall the Butcher long enough for the Psycho to clip his knee from behind, sending him down to the floor hard. Meanwhile, Nurse Heidi spins Sasha around, trying to take her by surprise, but Sasha is ready, and fires out with a hard slap that staggers her German counterpart. Heidi looks momentarily shocked, and then fires back with a shot to Sasha's midsection. Huge pop!] TD: Oh my! There's no need for this! SR: Yes! Snow Brawl's come early! This is great! [The referee immediately attempts to separate Sasha and Heidi, forcing Verhoeven's valet back to the ringside area while Sasha's father tends to his daughter. The Psycho continues to beat on Verhoeven, pulling over a section of crowd barrier onto the Butcher's leg, and jumping on it. Huge heel pop!] TD: Yow! That could have blown out Verhoeven's knee right there! [The referee again attempts to restrain the Psycho, and as security guards reassemble the barriers, the official forces the Psycho away from Verhoeven. However, the Butcher struggles to his feet, and despite heavily favouring his right leg, goes after the Psycho, nailing him with a cheap shot behind the ref's back. He rams the Psycho's head into the ring apron before rolling him in under the bottom rope and following him into the squared circle himself. The referee signals for the bell as Verhoeven attempts to shake off the damage to his knee.] TD: I think the Butcher was surprised by the ferocity of the Psycho's assault here in the early going, Steve! SR: Well, he's firmly in control now, Dross, and that's all that matters. TD: It looks like that knee of his could be seriously hurt, though. SR: Verhoeven's wrestled with broken bones in the past. Nothing's going to come between him and victory here tonight! [Verhoeven goes to work on the Psycho in the ring, dragging him to his feet and peppering him with body shots. The Psycho tries to shield his ribs, but Verhoeven is more powerful, and continues to nail him in his prone rib and kidney areas. The Butcher whips the Psycho into the ropes and hits a clothesline, before going for the cover - 1 - 2 - kickout! Verhoeven drags the Psycho to his feet, and chokes him against the ropes. The referee lays the count on the Butcher, and Verhoeven eventually breaks, but goes straight back to the choke. The referee remonstrates with Verhoeven, and while the official's back is turned, the Psycho slumps to the mat, giving Heidi the perfect opportunity to take a few shots at the Psycho from the outside. This raises the ire of the groggy Sasha and her father, who heads round to confront Heidi. He raises a hand to the valet, who laughs in his face, before nailing him in the gut with a hard right hand. Big pop!] TD: Please! Dornow has to be at least sixty years old! He's in no shape to be taking this kind of punishment! [Heidi spins Dornow around, and, as if to taunt Sasha, quickly applies the Sedative, her vicious cross-face chicken wing submission hold. Dornow's face contorts in pain as Heidi really puts on the pressure. Sasha is beside herself, and tries to pull Heidi away from her father, but her efforts prove fruitless. In the ring, the Psycho shakes off the cobwebs sufficiently to see what is going on, and he seems to find a new lease of life. He rolls out of the ring and immediately strikes Heidi, forcing her to release the hold. Dornow collapses to the mat, and Sasha immediately tends to him, calling for medical help. Paramedics rush down the aisle, and Sasha accompanies her pained father up the aisle.] TD: This looks bad for Dornow... I hope he's okay. SR: Dross, the old fool came out here and got involved. He comes down to the ring in Berlin for Verhoeven's match after firing him? The guy is even more stupid than his double-crossing daughter! [Meanwhile, the Psycho threatens Heidi, and just as he winds up his right fist, he is met by a boot to the head from Verhoeven on the apron. The Psycho falls awkwardly and hits his head hard on the steel crowd barrier. Verhoeven stomps away at him for a few more moments before dragging him to his feet and rolling him back into the ring. Verhoeven signals to the crowd for the Slaughterslam. Huge pop!] TD: Oh no! The Psycho may be out already, and Verhoeven wants to execute the Slaughterslam?! SR: Yes! Snap him like a twig, Butcher! [Verhoeven raises the Psycho by the throat, and brings him crashing down on his knee. Cameras flash all over the arena as Verhoeven covers the Psycho - 1 - 2 - 3! Ding! Ding! Ding!] TD: I can't believe it! Otto Verhoeven pinned the Subway Psycho! I can't believe it! SR: This man is unbeatable at the best of times, Dross, but on his home turf -- there's just no stopping him! TD: Verhoeven had a _lot_ of help in the form of outside distractions, though. SR: Well, the Stinker's own plan backfired on him pretty well, I'd say. If you can't take the heat, stay out of the Slaughterhouse! TD: What a match! Both men are on the floor, totally exhausted. That was one of the most physical encounters I can remember seeing here in the... hang on! What's that?! [Three men in wrestling outfits have jumped out of crowd and entered the ring. Big pop by the crowd, who obviously recognize the men. The first, a 7'3" giant with shoulder length red hair grabs the referee and throws him out of the ring, while the other two, a gaunt, bald 6'3" man and a 6'5" colossus who seems to weigh around 400 pounds and is very hairy, are stomping on the Psycho relentlessly. Verhoeven sits in a corner, still dizzy.] TD: Who are these men? After such a gruelling match the Psycho is in no condition to defend himself against these... SR: Shut up, Dross, this is great! But I think we'll learn more right now... here comes Heidi! [Heidi has the ring announcer's microphone while the strangers stop stomping the Psycho.] NH: Guten abend, Berlin [crowd pop]! I am sure you all remember these nice guys here, but I vill introduce them to our foreign audience. Behold the true ruler of Hell [she points to the red-haired man], this is TOBIAS TEUFEL! [Teufel sets the Psycho up for a powerbomb.] Now you'll see one of the most devastating moves in the whole vrestling vorld, vitness the Powerbreaker! [Teufel raises Psycho for a Powerbomb then smashes him down on his knee. Mixed pop.] SR: What a move! I wonder where these guys come from?! TD: I don't care, but they plan to take out the Subway Psycho! Why does nobody come to help him? SR: Look up there -- _that's_ why! [Cut to the head of the aisle, where the Syndicate have formed a human blockade. Brian Lau and Don McQueen dart around their men, as Tiger Claw, Casey James and the Dark Disciples stand firm, swatting away any security staff, officials or members of the Jobber Justice Squad who try to aid the Psycho.] TD: This is carnage! I should have known that the Syndicate would be in on this -- hang on, here comes Takezo Musashi! [Pop as the "Enigma" darts out of the locker room and makes a beeline for Don McQueen. He is attacked by Tiger Claw, however, and soon the two men are brawling all over the aisle. Claw rams the Enigma's head into the steel crowd barriers, and McQueen laughs as he watches his former charge suffer at the hands of the Syndicate. Meanwhile, the hairy guy has climbed to the top turnbuckle.] NH: And this, ladies and gentlemen, children of all ages, is the terror from the past, the NEANDERTHAL, vith his incredible Savagesault! [The Neanderthal performs an incredible moonsault, hitting the Psycho's back, who starts to twitch in pain. Heidi claps her hands, while Verhoeven has gotten up and now stands by, watching the carnage and grinning like a madman.] TD: Look at his eyes, Steve! He's lost it. SR: Come on and say it to his face, moron. I'm sure he'll discuss his current mental status with you. TD: You're enjoying this, aren't you? SR: Of course! NH: And finally, our last guest, the master of technical wrestling, Karl "the Krippler" Kruger, vill show us the German Piledriver. [Kruger hits a spinning piledriver. Big heel pop as he does it one more time. Otto takes the mic.] TD: The German audience seems to be as disgusted by this display of violence as we are! SR: Yeah, I think these other guys are considered bad guys in their home country! I like them! OV: Come on, Berlin, don't you like this? Psycho, all of these men here were fired by Sasha's father and barred from wrestling here in Germany forever, only because they were too dangerous, too difficult too control, and because they were my friends. This is their merry "thank you" and a reminder that they are still there! I hope you learned your lesson, Psycho! I told you before, you cannot mess with the Butcher in his own country. Lasst uns gehen Freunde. [He raises the Psycho's seemingly lifeless body by the throat for a chokeslam, but then he shakes his head and lets him drop to the mat. Otto spits on him once, then he and his entourage leave the ring to the deafening "boo"s of the crowd. As they approach the Syndicate, the blockade is broken, and security staff, officials, and a medical team rush down to the ring. Cut to the broadcast table.] TD: What a match, fans. First Sasha's father is injured in the fray, and Sasha has to accompany him to the locker room, and then the Psycho is laid out by Verhoeven's hired goons. Unbelievable. We're right out of time for tonight, fans, but don't forget that there's all kinds of action coming your way over the next seven days, culminating in the most eagerly-awaited IIWF PPV of all time, Snow Brawl! What a night that's going to be! Call your local cable operator now! Until then, from the Kohl Centre, this is Tim Dross, for "Soundbite" Steve Roberts, saying: so long, everybody! [The Subway Psycho is helped to his feet by the medical team, and he tries to swat away their efforts at assisting him, but is too weak to stand. The medics catch him and help him from the ring. Cut to a wide-angle shot of the Kohl Centre. Fade] +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= I * I * W * F =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-+ | President: Daniel Spreadbury | Vice-President: Steve Owens | | univ0322@sable.ox.ac.uk | sowens@admin.presby.edu | | iiwf@sisko.demon.co.uk | IIWFadmin@aol.com | +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- http://www.sisko.demon.co.uk -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=+