[Fade up on footage subtitled, "Last Week." Tiger Claw and "Lone Wolf" Brody Thunder battle it out in the squared circle. Thunder picks Claw up to his feet, and begins setting up for the Thunderbolt. As Thunder reaches over to execute the devastating torture-rack into shoulderbreaker move, Tiger Claw is able to chop Thunder in the throat, and crawl toward the corner. The referee heads over to the corner to warn Claw for his illegal blow, when Casey James opportunistically jumps on the apron behind the staggered Thunder. James cracks him across the back of the head with the IIWF Title belt. Lau looks back in time to see the shot, and comes running back down to ringside to celebrate with James. Claw gets to his feet and heads to the top rope. Tiger Claw launches himself across the ring with his flying knee to Thunder's head, the Golden Tiger Strike. A massive heel pop helps the referee count - 1 - 2 - 3! Ding! Ding! Ding! As Claw celebrates, voice over:] VO: The Syndicate, the dominant force in the IIWF throughout its existence. Masterminded by Brian Lau, this stable has captured three Intercontinental Championships, one Cruiserweight Championship, one World Tag Team Championship, and is currently in illegal possession of the IIWF World Heavyweight Championship title. Yet their success is through gang warfare, mob tactics and under-hand behaviour. [Cut to footage subtitled, "Earlier This Week." Brian Lau, Casey "Blackheart" James and Tiger Claw stand in the Dojo courtyard. Casey, holding the IIWF World Heavyweight Championship title, speaks:] CJ: You're looking at three guys who have been here since day one. We never ran away. We've been ready for everyone who came along. Look at our history. Nobody has fought as many matches as we have. In fact, we've won more matches than anyone else has even wrestled. We are the blood of the IIWF. We are the guys that make this place tick. [Cut to footage of Brody Thunder in action against a prelim opponent. Thunder hits his patented finishing manoeuvre, the Thunderbolt, and the footage slows as the opponent crashes to the mat. Voice over:] VO: Brody Thunder, the "Lone Wolf". In only two months, Thunder has risen through the ranks of the IIWF by standing alone. Epitomising the philosophy that if you want something done, you do it yourself, Thunder has taken it to the Syndicate time and time again in recent weeks. However, he has come up short against the massed forces of Lau's legions. Tonight, he gets one more shot at Tiger Claw. Tonight, he promises a surprise that will even the score. [Cut to footage subtitled, "Earlier This Week." Brody Thunder sits in the far corner of the Tarnished Star Salloon, smoking a cigar.] BT: The only way I'm gonna get beat is if I'm dead in that ring. That's the truth, son. Ain't no other way to approach it. Me an' Claw are gonna go to fist city an' when the dust settles only one o' us is gonna be left standin'. I plan on bein' that man. [The opening graphics explode onto the screen as the introductory music kicks in:] ##### ###### ### ########## ########## ########## #### ## ########## ########## ########## #### # #### ######## ##### ##### #### ## ##### #### #### #### #### ### #### #### #### #### ############# ######### #### #### ########### ######### #### #### #### #### #### ######### ######### ### #### #### ######### ######### ### ## #### ######## ######## ## # #### =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- ## =-=-=-= INTERNATIONAL INTERNET WRESTLING FEDERATION =============================================== S + A + T + U + R + D + A + Y N + I + G + H + T ----------------------------------------------- + LiVE! + IIWF Coliseum, Portland, Oregon + + 18 January 1997 + [The opening graphics fade through to interior shots of the IIWF Coliseum. Fireworks explode in the rafters as the twenty-thousand strong crowd cheer excitedly. Coloured spotlights throw their beams over the sea of faces. The shot pans down past row upon row of fans, many waving home-made signs, and others bedecked in official IIWF merchandise. Cut to the aisle, down which is walking Mad Dog Watkins. He ignores the clamouring fans. As he heads towards ringside, Tim Dross speaks over:] TD: [voice over] Welcome everybody to the home of the IIWF! Welcome everybody to Portland, Oregon! Welcome to the IIWF Coliseum for another live edition of IIWF Saturday Night! Fans, you see Mad Dog Watkins making his way down the aisle at present. Off the back of his tremendous victory over Ronnie Paris in Wednesday night's Iron Man match, Watkins is going to be taking in the action here in the Coliseum from a front row seat. And what a show he's sure to see tonight! [Watkins is ushered into his seat by security staff, and immediately fans gather round him, asking for autographs. Watkins gives them a withering look and sits down, occasionally taking a poster or programme from a fan and signing it absently. Cut to the announcers' table in the ringside enclosure, at which are seated Tim Dross and "Soundbite" Steve Roberts.] TD: Hello, folks. I'm Tim Dross, and beside me as always is my broadcast colleague, "Soundbite" Steve Roberts. SR: And as always, the pleasure is all yours, Dross. TD: How true. Fans, what a show we've got lined up for you tonight! Over the next two hours, you will witness ten incredible encounters. We heard at the top of the hour about the big rematch from last week between the "Lone Wolf" Brody Thunder and Tiger Claw. Thunder has promised a big surprise for the Syndicate here in the Coliseum tonight, but we still have no idea what that surprise will be. SR: Speak for yourself, Dross. TD: You mean you know what Thunder's surprise is, Steve? SR: Of course I do, Dross. Me and Thunder, we're like _that_. TD: Would you care to enlighten me what Thunder has in store? SR: No way, Dross. Let's just say that you'll be hard pushed to outdo Thunder tonight. TD: Another huge match scheduled for tonight's show is the long-awaited Third Rail Match between Otto "the Butcher" Verhoeven and the Subway Psycho. Perhaps tonight we will finally see the end of the feud between these two huge superstars. SR: It'll end it alright. The Stinker will find it difficult to attack Verhoeven from his hospital bed after he gets a million volts shot through him. TD: We also have three of the IIWF's titles up for grabs tonight! The World Tag Team belts will be on the line as champions the Dark Disciples defend against the recently-returned Domination, and the Cruiserweight Champion, the "Enigma" Takezo Musashi, will face Harlequin Tragedy, with the champion then going on to face Cheshire right here next week. And Intercontinental Champion Steve "the Fury" Kowalski will defend against _two_ men in a triangle match. SR: It's not really two men, Dross. Billy Pukespeare got splattered all over the mat by the Syndicate in midweek, so he's out of the running. And Marty Walnut has something on his mind -- at least, he would if he had one. TD: I've been trying to speak with Marty this week about what caused him to storm out of a press conference on Monday, but the Party Maniac has been strangely withdrawn in the past few days. You have to wonder whether he'll be on top of his game in the ring with Kowalski tonight. SR: I can already tell you the answer to that one, Dross. Walnut's gonna get Skullpumped. TD: Also in action tonight will be Creed, facing an as yet unnamed opponent. The "CEO" Jack Montgomery issued a challenge on Creed's behalf last Saturday Night to any IIWF wrestler who wanted to step up to the plate and face Creed in the ring here tonight. We know that the contract was signed this past Tuesday, but the front office has refused to release the details of Creed's opponent until bell time tonight. SR: But _I_ know who's going to be facing Creed, Dross. TD: Who, Steve? SR: Not telling. TD: [pause] You don't know at all, do you? SR: Of course I do. When have I ever lied to you, Dross? TD: All the time, Steve. On top of that great action, we're also going to see IIWF Champion Dan Kauffman, sans belt of course, in non-title action against Morningstar of Pain Inc. SR: Little Danny Kauffman may think he's going to prove himself as a tough-guy by facing Morningstar, but he'd better be prepared for the fight of his life. Pain Inc. have been baying for Kauffman's blood since Snow Brawl, and you can bet they won't stop until he's been beaten into unconsciousness tonight. TD: "Quickstrike" Chris Quigley will be facing one of Kauffman's partners in the Players' Club, "Desirable" Danny Dynamite, in singles action later tonight, with an interesting twist -- Quigley will be accompanied to the ring by long-time enemy Otto "the Butcher" Verhoeven! Can Quigley trust the Butcher, Steve? SR: Of course. Verhoeven is a man of his word, Dross. If he says he's going to watch Quigley's back, he'll watch his back. TD: I'm not so sure that Verhoeven is a man to be trusted, Steve, but we'll find out later on. In other action, "Sychosys" Joe Petrow faces Dirt Dog Unique Allah, but first up tonight, G.W.R., hot off a big victory against the Armed Forces in a Bragging Rights match in midweek, tonight go up against two-time former tag champs, the High Plains Drifters. =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= G.W.R. vs. High Plains Drifters =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Writer: CS TD: What a great opening contest we have here, Steve. Both of these teams are seeking shots at the IIWF World Tag Team Championship and a win here could be just what they need in order to secure a chance for the titles. SR: That's hogwash, Dross. You know as well as me that the High Plain Drifters don't have to prove themselves to anyone. They are the only two-time IIWF tag champs and they're going to squash G.W.R just like I'm going to squash that runt Ronnie Paris next week. TD: So you're saying that you think Drifters are going to lose? SR: Very funny, Dross. Almost as funny as your clothes, which are a pretty poor excuse for a wardrobe. TD: Hey, I like this suit. SR: Dross, that tie looks like something I ate yesterday in the IIWF cafeteria -- that's when it made its way back up. TD: Okay, I think that's our cue to get back up to ringside. [The spotlight shines on Sparkplug Lee who is busy picking his nose but then suddenly notices he is on and shyly rubs his finger against his pants while reading the introductions.] RA: This opening tag team contest is scheduled for one fall. First making their way to the ring at a total combined wieght of 502lbs, acompanied by "Outlaw" Josey Wales, here are Pale and Easy Rider, The High Plain Drifters! [The theme from "The Good, the Bad and the Ugly" blares over the speakers as the Drifters make their way down to ringside to a sizeable heel pop. Easy begins to jaw with some rowdy Oregon fans down at ringside until Josey Wales directs him and Pale Rider's attention to Mad Dog Watkins who is seated at rindside. They acknowledge him with a nod of the head but nothing else before entering the ring.] TD: I wonder if Mad Dog will play a role in this match. SR: Why would he, Dross? Mad Dog isn't one to interfere without reason and he has no beef with either team. He just came to watch the show. TD: I'll believe that when I see it. SR: Um... You're seeing it. RA: Their opponents, from Parts Unknown, weighing in at 545lbs, accompanied by their bodyguard and General Kane, here are Spoiler and Loco, G.W.R.! [Fans give a mixed reaction, favoring cheers, as "Steam" by Peter Gabriel plays over the sound system. Spoiler and Loco jog down the aisle with Kane and his Bodyguard not far behind. Spoiler stops to chat with a group of fans with G.W.R t-shirts until he notices Mad Dog Watkins, whom he stares at for a few seconds before slipping into the ring with Loco. Pale and Easy take advantage of the distracted G.W.R and jump them from behind. The powerful Easy clotheslines Loco through the ropes to the outside while Pale works over Spoiler. Easy then joins his partner as they both doubleteam the G.W.R member.] TD: Come on, ref, get in there! SR: Don't, ref! Let the Drifters pound the stuffing out of Spoiler. If we're lucky, maybe this will be the end of Spoiler and we'll never have to hear him gab again. [The Drifters whip Spoiler into the ropes and hit him with a double backdrop which sends him crashing to the mat. Loco slowly tries to make his way back in the ring to helps his partner who is then hit with a double clothesline. The ref finally gets a hold of things and sends Easy to his corner where he is congratulated by Josey Wales. Loco finally makes his way into the ring but is stopped by the referee, which then gives the cue for Easy to reenter the ring and doubleteam Spoiler behind the official's back. Spoiler is whipped off the ropes where he is double press slammed by the Drifters. As the ref gets back in position, Easy leaves the ring and Pale resumes his offense on a groggy Spoiler. General Kane furiously yells at the ref to get control of the match from the outside, while Josey Wales, on the other side of the ring, has a large smirk on his face.] SR: Looks like Josey has the better game plan in this one, Dross. I guess Kane isn't the great mat strategist he claims to be. TD: The match is young, Steve. [Mad Dog watches on as Pale puts Spoiler into a abdominal stretch, clearly enjoying watching the Drifters dominate Spoiler. After Spoiler is trapped in the hold for almost a minute Pale releases him and whips him off the ropes to deliver a dropkick, but Spoiler holds onto the ropes! Pale hits nothing but air and crashes hard to the mat. Pale brings himself back up only to recieve a fierce running clothesline from a fired-up Spoiler. Spoiler is able to make the tag to Loco, who then, along with his weary partner, whips Pale off the ropes to deliver a double clothesline.] TD: It's payback time as now G.W.R. pulls off the double teaming! SR: Yeah, and they should be disqualified! This is such blatant cheating. TD: And what the Drifters did was fine? SR: Of course. TD: How can you say that? SR: Easy, I put my lips together. [Spoiler returns to his corner as Loco lifts up a stunned Pale Rider and executes a devastating belly-to-belly suplex which sends him flying across the ring. Pale slowly gets up only to be steinerlined back down by Loco. Pale is then thrown against the ropes and caught in a big backbreaker by Loco. Wales is now noticeably upset on the outside as his gameplan falls apart in front of his eyes. Pale rolls on the mat holding his back but he doesn't have much time to tend to his wounds as Loco puts him on the receiving end of a snap suplex. Loco makes the tag to Spoiler, who executes a Russian leg-sweep to continue to work over Pale's back. Pale once again finds himself whipped across the ropes, this time in preparation for a powerslam, but he flips over Spoiler and delivers a superkick to Spoiler's face as he turns around.] SR: Ouch! I sure hope Spoiler bit his tongue on that one. TD: Why?! SR: Then if the Drifters don't finish G.W.R off, at least Spoiler will be quiet until his fat tongue heals. TD: I wish you'd... [notices Roberts' stern look and decides against finishing his comment] [Wales then motions Pale to make the tag to Easy which he does. Easy quickly enters the ring and grabs Spoiler by the throat to execute a huge chokeslam which gets an excited pop. The effects of the move can be seen on Spoiler's grimacing face. Easy looks around and then lifts Spoiler back up for a running powerslam! Easy goes for the pin - 1 - 2 - barely a kickout! Easy then tags back out Pale who puts Spoiler into the dreaded Dirty Harry scorpion deathlock.] SR: It's all over! There's no way Spoiler can take that pain. TD: I'm not so sure about that. Spoiler is a highly resilient athlete. SR: Yeah, but he's already felt that devastating chokeslam. [Pale really begins to put the pressure on when Loco moves to enter the ring. Easy sees this and enters the ring, antcipating Loco's entrance, but Loco remains on the outside, leading the ref to confront Easy and send him back to the corner. Loco takes advantage of this and delivers a stiff steinerline on Pale which forces him to break the hold.] TD: What brilliance! That was an obvious ploy by Kane. Now who's the real mat strategist, Steve? SR: At least we know it's not you. [Pale rolls to his corner to make a quick tag to Easy who comes rushing in for Spoiler, but he doesn't make it in time as the aching Spoiler makes the tag to Loco. Once Spoiler makes the tag he slumps to the apron as the bodyguard and Kane tend to him. The two larger members of their respective teams start a staredown until Easy throws the first punch which is blocked by his opponent. Loco fires back with a shot of his own. He lays in several forearm shots until delivering another steinerline which sends Easy crashing to the mat. Loco then catches the rising Easy with a belly-to-back suplex. Easy rises again and receives a belly-to-belly suplex. Loco delivers a dragon suplex but Pale intervenes before a pinfall attempt can be made. Easy then whips Loco off the ropes and sets Loco up for a big boot, but Loco ducks and hits Easy with a flying forearm on the way back. Big pop.] TD: Loco takes to the air. That's not something we see every week here! SR: I'll say one thing, Dross -- this has been one hell of a match. Now all we need is the Drifters to finish these guys off. TD: It's still G.W.R. on the offensive, Steve. [Loco scoops Easy up for a huge bodyslam. Loco, sensing he has Easy almost finished, runs off the ropes, but this time is met by a knee to the back from Pale. Loco drops as Easy rises and shocks the crowd as he is able to execute a chokeslam on the 305 pounder. Easy then gives the sign for the Hang'em High clothesline.] TD: Oh my! Their going to try the Hang'em High clothesline on Loco. Can Easy get the big guy up onto his shoulders? SR: Duh, he just chokeslammed him, Dross. TD: Hey, wait! Who's that coming to ringside? [As if on cue the the three members of the Hangmen enter the ring and jump both members of the High Plain Drifters. Ding! Ding! Ding! G.W.R., feeling that they have had enough for today, leave ringside, while the Hangmen take it to the Drifters. The three Hangmen pummel the already tired cowboys with an assault of kicks, forearms and elbowdrops. The referee signals for the bell again while the Hangmen begin to put their nooses over the necks of the pounded Drifters. But before the hanging can begin the Venusian Death Cell comes rushing from the dressing room to a mixed pop. The fresh VDC lays into the surprised Hangmen. Cell's rescue seems to revitalise the Drifters as they help him dispose of the Hangmen from the ring. The Hangmen take their nooses and taunt the Drifters and Venusian Death Cell before making their way back to the dressing room.] RA: Here are your winners by disqualification... the High Plain Drifters! TD: Wow! That was intense. The feud between Wales' men and the Hangmen seems to be escalating with every card. President Spreadbury will have no choice but to sign that rumored six-man match. SR: It seems we could possibly see the return of the Posse. Those guys looked great fighting off the Hangmen. TD: The Drifters must be mighty proud that Wales resigned Death Cell becasue he may have saved their lives here tonight. SR: Now there's only one real life-threatening disaster left here tonight. TD: What are you talking about? The Third Rail Match? SR: No, your commentating. You talk almost as bad as you smell. TD: [sigh] At least you didn't mention my hair for a change. SR: Well, I think that's the cause of that terrible stench. What dead animal did you use for hair this week, Dross? TD: I'm not going to dignify that remark with a response, Steve. Before we get back up to the ring for our next match, let's look ahead to tonight's Intercontinental Championship Triangle match. There is some concern over the medical condition of one of the challengers, "Spotlight" Billy Shakespeare, who took a beating in his match against the Syndicate on Wednesday. I understand Larry Morton is backstage with an update on Billy's condition. Larry? [Cut to a camera backstage in a relatively deserted part of the arena, in front of a supply room. Holding the mic is not Larry Morton as usual, but instead Ronnie Paris.] RP: Sorry, Tim, Mr. Morton is letting me take over for a little while. You see, next week I'm going to show you, Steve Roberts, how to do my job. I thought it would only be fair to try and do yours. In any event, I have a report to file. Well, I tried to get a word with Billy Shakespeare as he came into the Coliseum earlier today, but he wouldn't answer any questions at the time. However, I did speak to a few of the on-site medical staff here, and they say that they are prepared to stop the match with Steve Kowalski and Marty Warnett if they feel Shakespeare is in danger, but they will allow him every chance to compete before doing so. I suppose I'd better head back to the locker rooms, so I'll hand back off to Larry Morton. See you in the ring, "Soundbite". [Cut back to the announcers' table. Steve Roberts is laughing.] SR: Who does that kid think he is, Dross?! That was the most pitiful attempt at broadcasting I've ever seen in my life. Paris makes Larry Morton look like Orson Welles in front of the camera. TD: Steve... SR: [interrupting] Shut it, Dross. If Paris thinks he can beat me at my game, be it wrestling or announcing, boy does he have another thing coming. Next Saturday Night, Paris, you're going to find out that my bite is worse than my bark. TD: Er, okay. Let's go to our next match, as two very individual athletes go at it one-on-one. "Sychosys" Joe Petrow faces Dirt Dog Unique Allah. Let's go to some comments from the Dirt Dog, recorded earlier tonight: [Cut to footage subtitled, "Earlier Tonight." Dirt Dog is rocking back and forth, clutching a picture of his wife, Shakeemah. Medusa is rubbing his bare shoulders.] Unique: Dusa, I'm scared. I'm scared. I don't think she's comin' back. Ever! I mean. Why would she want a man like me? I'm just a bum! Medusa: Maybe if you beat Joe Petrow she'll be more interested. Unique: Who? Medusa: Sychosys, you know. You're facing him later on tonight. Unique: I don't wanna fight no crazy man like that. Medusa: He says you stole his style, though. [Unique perks up.] Unique: Stole his style? You mean, he ain't nothin' but a drunken, dirty bastard? Medusa: So he claims. Unique: Man, I got a lot to say to him. How can I steal his style when there's no father to mine? I ain't got no style. Damn, I ain't even got no stove no more. My milk is all mouldy, too. Petrow, you want this style, you can have it! I'm the Dirt Dog, but I don't wanna live like that. I mean, I got dreams, y'all and they ain't on this floor. Except that one about you, Medusa. We was all over the floor with chocolate puddin', too! Yeah! Medusa: Pudding? Really? Really? Well, maybe that can be arranged. If you win. Unique: Yeah! And then maybe Shakeemah will come back to me? Maybe! Yeah! Petrow, I'm a show you a style. It's called the fool in love! YEAH! [Cut back to ringside.] TD: Both of these athletes are, shall we say, enigmatic. SR: Say whatever you want, Dross. Petrow's flat nuts and Dirt Dog's a guy who I wouldn't give a quarter to at the offramp. TD: Well, that may be, but Dirt Dog Unique Allah is coming off a big victory over Lord Byron and is one of the hottest wrestlers going today. SR: If this guy wins tonight, I really will get back in the ring. TD: You're already getting back in the ring, Steve, remember Ronnie Paris? SR: I mean, I'll get back in the ring against someone who's fully grown. TD: Let's get to ringside. =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= "Sychosys" Joe Petrow vs. Dirt Dog Unique Allah =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Writer: JJ [Sparkplug Lee has been waiting patiently for the witty banter to subside, and now takes the mic.] SL: The following contest is scheduled for one fall. Introducing first, accompanied down the aisle by Medusa Rage; from Brooklyn, New York, weighing 238 pounds, Dirt Dog Unique Allah! [Only the long-legged Rage immediately appears as "Snakes" begins, it is not until she nears ringside that we see Dirt Dog, who is backing into the aisle while bellowing at someone who is not visible to the crowd. Dirt Dog stops just in front of the ringside seat of Mad Dog Watkins and raises his arms in the air, seeming to accept applause which is not really forthcoming. Allah taps his chest twice and climbs into the ring.] SL: His opponent, weighing 227 pounds and currently residing in Tokyo, Japan, "Sychosys" Joe Petrow! [The lights dim as "Pleasure Dome" by Van Halen is heard throughout the arena, a swirl of spotlights appear at the top of the aisle when out steps Petrow, clad in a white vest with a black lightning bolt and a white cowboy hat. He has a stern look on his face as the crowd boos his arrival - save for a small collection of fans near the ring, who bow toward their apparent hero. Petrow's eyes find Mad Dog as he hits the ring and the two veterans seem to size each other up with little more than a glance.] SR: Petrow is a genuine tough guy, Dross. These fans just don't recognize a true champion when they... [A loud mixed pop rises in the arena as the IIWF Champion, Dan Kauffman makes his way to ringside.] SR: We could see this break loose, Dross. Kauffman's another volatile element to add to this mix. TD: This is interesting, Steve. There is a growing body of opinion that the Players' Club is looking to expand. A man like Petrow might make a heck of an addition. [Neither Dirt Dog or Petrow is paying much attention to the IIWF champ who has now taken a seat at the Spanish announce table. Allah cautiously moves toward Petrow and accepts the offer to lockup. But only briefly. Upon contact with "Sychosys", Dirt Dog leaps backwards and scrambles underneath the ropes and to the floor, where he then hides behind Medusa Rage and animatedly points toward Petrow, shouting, "The Dog don't wants none of that crazy muh-fuh, no sir!" Medusa points the Dog's way back into the ring where Unique then locks up a second time with Petrow - and this time begins screaming.] SR: Good God, somebody shoot him, or beat him, or something. [Dirt Dog has crawled to his corner and stuck his head through the ropes into the hands of Rage. While he softly sobs, she forcefully guides him back into the ring where he goes to lockup for the third time. Petrow appears to offer a collar and elbow but instead feints left and bursts past Unique into a dead sprint and dives through the ropes, crashing down in a flying tackle upon Medusa Rage, sending her into the retaining barrier! Astonished Pop!] TD: Did he just...?! SR: He knocked her into the middle of next week, Dross! [Dirt Dog is now outside and hesitates momentarily before turning to attend Rage -- turning his back toward Petrow. "Sychosys" races at his opponent and lands a devastating bulldog, driving Dirt Dog's head into the timekeeper's table! Big heel pop! Petrow nods in self satisfaction in the direction of the rising Kauffman and then does a drunken climb back into the ring, clearly imitating the fallen Dirt Dog. With a smile that could only be described as "creepy", Petrow plops down in the middle of the ring and contentedly crosses his arms.] TD: This guy is wrong, Steve Roberts. He's knocked Medusa Rage unconscious. Fortunately she is now being taken from ringside... I'm absolutely appalled. SR: Rage had no business at ringside, Dross. She belongs where all women belong -- in the kitchen makin' biscuits. [Dirt Dog re-enters, with only a whisper of his customary drunken stumble. He approaches the sitting Petrow and without blinking an eyelash thrustkicks "Sychosys" to the mat. Allah moves to follow up, but Petrow drops him with a single leg takedown and then jabs two quick knees to the throat of Dirt Dog before going for the cover... 1 - 2 - kickout. Petrow applies an excruciating armbar and then wrenches Unique's weakened arm down to the mat and drops his leg across the exposed shoulder. Petrow manoeuvres across Dirt Dog's back, as if to attempt to apply a camel clutch, but instead rams a forearm hard into the back of Unique's neck, sending his shoulders to the mat again for a 1 - 2 - kickout.] TD: Dirt Dog is game, Steve Roberts, but the official might have to make a move to stop this one, Petrow is just dominant out there... wait, Allah's reversed it! [Dirt Dog has managed to do a near somersault and roll up Petrow into a quick two count, clearly surprising the veteran who rises to his feet and moves away. Dirt Dog wastes no time in pressing his brief advantage, moving in for a quick waistlock takedown and a one count. Petrow kicksout and whips Dirt Dog far side, but drops his head too quickly and is met with a huge swinging neckbreaker from the Unique one! Pop!] TD: A remarkable display by Dirt Dog, how about his technical ability, Steve? SR: Technical ability?! Ridiculous. He's the luckiest man in the IIWF and Petrow's gonna expose him for the fraud that he is. [Allah, his face contorted in anger, yanks Petrow up the back of his head and then sends him quickly to the mat with a standing drop kick to the back of Petrow's neck! Dirt Dog then drops and applies a quick chinlock, twisting the smaller Petrow's head and then moves in for his own camel clutch. Like Petrow before, he stops short and rams a forearm to the back of Petrow's neck. Then he does it again and again and again, hitting Petrow with a total of eight furious forearms, leaving "Sychosys" down and the crowd chanting for the Dirt Dog!] TD: The momentum has shifted, Steve! Dirt Dog Unique Allah has established control of this match and is hearing it from this crowd! [The face pop continues as Allah rises, now in full drunken stumble and falls to the mat in each of the four corners of the ring. Allah collects himself and returns to Petrow, who is just now staggering back to his feet, Allah gives a quick poke to the eye and an even quicker jab to the throat, before bouncing off the far rope and landing his customary tilt-a-whirl suplex! Dirt Dog covers - 1 - 2 - kickout! Dirt Dog delivers a short right hand to the throat and covers again - 1 - Kickout! Allah quickly pulls Petrow to his feet, whipping him to the corner... but Petrow is remarkably able to halt his momentum and slip the rush of the charging Dirt Dog who runs chest first into the buckle, stumbling backwards and then is nailed on the chin with a devastating superkick from Petrow! Big heel pop!] SR: Never charge the corner, especially if you're drunk. TD: Prescient as always, Steve. [Petrow climbs to the midrope and comes down with a fist to Dirt Dog's cranium, covering for a 1 - 2 - kickout. Allah remains down but Petrow is clearly exhausted and is only able to follow up with a series of stomps to the head of the Dirt Dog. Petrow then picks up Unique and drags him to the corner, propping him up and then landing 5 - 6 - 7 deliberate forearms to the head before whipping him cross-corner. Dirt Dog is able to stop his momentum, but Petrow halts as well, grabs Unique by the hair and slams his head repeatedly into the top buckle!] SR: I don't know if this attack to the head will have any affect on a man like Dirt Dog. [Allah then slumps to the mat, the onslaught having left him in a heap in the corner.] TD: Care to make a retraction, Steve? That man is hurt. SR: Look, Dross, I know about these things, do you know how many times I fought the Samoans? Now those guys didn't have a lot of milk in their coconuts... if you know what I mean. TD: Will you stop? [Petrow has rolled Allah out into the middle of the ring and covers 1 - 2 - Allah is just able to feebly lift a shoulder. Petrow pauses and headbutts Dirt Dog in disgust, walking away from his opponent. Dirt Dog gamely rises again, and Petrow, his body beaten, senses the opportunity and hooks Unique up for the modified perfectplex.] TD: He's gonna go for it! He's cinching Allah in for the Bullet Train to Hell! [Petrow breathes deeply as the crowd rises and then moves to lift Allah who in desperation throws a forearm at Petrow... connecting with his groin and dropping "Sychosys" to the mat!] TD: Dirt Dog broke the hold! He broke the hold! [Dirt Dog slumps away, crawling not in a drunken stupor but out of sheer exhaustion. Allah makes his way to the corner and painfully drags himself up to the top turnbuckle as Petrow continues to writhe in pain. Allah sets himself and leaps... and lands a big elbow to the back of Petrow's head! The crowd gasps as Allah covers... 1 - 2 - Petrow kicks out. And Unique wearily rolls off, drags up Petrow and Irish whips him, Petrow comes off hard and goes airborne but Dirt Dog maneouvres him into a Stun Gun! Petrow is draped over the top as Dirt Dog flies to the backrope. He leapfrogs to the back of Petrow who has stumbled backward...] TD: IT'S THE FATAL FLYING GUILLOTINE! SR: NO, NO... YES! [...Petrow catches Allah and hoists him up from under his arms, lifts him high above his head and with seemingly every ounce of energy in his body hurls Dirt Dog over the top rope and out onto the floor! Enormous pop!] SR: That's the Knightmare, Dross, or at least a modification of it. Dirt Dog is out! He is out! TD: Petrow can't capitalize, he's flat on his back in the middle of the ring! SR: But the bum is flat on his back out on the floor! [The official has begun the count and is at 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - the crowd is screaming for Dirt Dog to somehow rise, to somehow muster whatever he has left and make it back to the ring - 7 - 8 - Dirt Dog crawls to his knees and then to his feet! Dirt Dog is on his feet at - 9 - and falls back to the floor! 10! Ding! Ding! Ding!] SL: The winner, as a result of a countout, "Sychosys" Joe Petrow! [Petrow is still on his back as his arm is raised in victory. On the outside, Kauffman makes a motion as if to go in the ring but pauses and then heads back up the aisle.] TD: Joe Petrow and Dirt Dog Unique Allah have given these fans everything they could have asked for in this match, Steve. I'm worn out myself. SR: Well, forget the fans, Dross, forget Dirt Dog too, Petrow has wiped him and his manager clean out of the arena tonight. I love it! [Petrow gets to his feet and wearily leaves the ring, heading up the aisle to a big heel pop, while the official helps Dirt Dog back to his feet. Cut to the announcers' table.] TD: Okay, before our next match, it's time for this week's LaRue's Lair segment. Becky's guest this week is Lord Byron. [Becky wanders out to a big pop. She spins twice in place diplaying her latest designer gown, then drapes herself accross the lounge.] BL: The past two Lairs, you've heard nothing but abuse directed towards your favorite announcer... that is, me. I had a choice. I could either bring an electric cattle prod with me, or I could book a guest who has more class in his little finger than Warnett and Annis do combined. So, since the batteries in my prod have gone dead...I invited to join us today: the English gentleman himself, Lord Byron. ['Intermezzo from Karelia Suite' starts up over the PA system, and Lord Byron, dressed in an elegantly-cut designer suit, and carrying his brass-topped cane, walks down to the set with a look of profound arrogance on his face. Lady DeWinter is nowhere to be seen. Byron steps onto the set, amid hoots of derision from the audience which he ignores, and he walks up to Becky, taking her hand and kissing it before sitting opposite her.] BL: How charming. Any real reason for the melodrama? LB: Let's just say, Miss Larue, we haven't exactly been on good terms in the past, but I would prefer to begin this interview on a civil note, at least. BL: I'm sure you would. Any chance of dinner? LB: Possibly. If you behave. BL: Hehehe. Never one to avoid gossip, let's go right to the heart of it. What's with this breakup between you and Lady Bewildered? LB: There are no problems between myself and the Lady DeWinter. She was upset at the result last Saturday, as was I, but I still have full confidence in her ability as my valet. She will be with me tonight, of course. BL: [looking confused] Why wasn't she with you on Wednesday? LB: I decided against it. She was still upset, and there was no real need for her to accompany me. BL: So, does this mean you won't be single soon after all? LB: [laughing] Miss Larue, the Lady DeWinter is my ward. Do you know what that means? I am her legal guardian, nothing more. [He waves his hand] She is like a daughter to me. BL: [taking notes] Okay. Let's change tack. You're obviously championship calibre. Why don't you have a title yet? LB: [smirking] Championship calibre? How kind of you to say so. [He shrugs] Seriously, I am not surprised that the IIWF champions continue to avoid me. I am at the prime point in my career, on my best day I can defeat anyone, on my worst I can defeat most. I consider myself the finest technical wrestler in the world, a claim which I have proved time and time again. Believe me, Miss Larue, once I get my shot, I WILL take it. BL: Haven't you realized that that Lady Dewithered has held you back? LB: [shaking his head] As I said before, I have complete faith in Milady's abilities as a valet. Hold on a second, are you insinuating that Milady has an affect on my matches? [Byron smirks] How dare you! BL: Hehehe. You and I both bring too much class to this federation. How do you resolve having to compete against these plebeians? LB: It is a neccessary evil. But why would I do it, Miss Larue, if it were not for the thrill of competition? [Byron smirks] Unfortunately, that opposition of my quality appears to be sorely lacking in this federation as of late, judging by my recent opponents. BL: Which brings me to Dirt Dog Unique Allah. How unbreakable _is_ the new Aristoclutch? LB: Let me put it this way, Unique was fortunate. Had I realized in advance he was a contortionist, he would never have escaped. The Aristoclutch is my pride and joy, Miss Larue, a move which I myself created and implemented. I consider it one of the most painful submission holds in the world, and I am always looking to improve it. Suffice to say, Unique's escape route will never be used again. And the "new" version? [Byron smirks] You will find out VERY soon just how devastating it can be. BL: You've also had a problem with the Harlequins. Was that ever settled? LB: Not satisfactorily, no. Despite their somewhat bizarre attitude, I consider the Harlequins to be some of the most dangerous competitors in the federation. I look forward to the opportunity to meet Tragedy again. [Byron smirks] Not that the outcome would be different from last time, of course. BL: Who'd be your ideal tag partner? LB: [brushing his jacket] I am a singles wrestler, Miss Larue, pure and simple. I enjoy the thrill of one-on-one combat, and prefer to stay away from what I consider to be nothing but an excuse for brawling. However, if I were forced to name a partner, I would choose someone I have worked with before, and someone I can respect. [Byron laughs] That narrows the field considerably, as you can imagine! Otto Verhoeven, a man I have a great deal of respect for, or possibly Mr. Damage. I like people who can be bought, even more when they like cricket. BL: Are you at all related to the poet Lord Byron? LB: Not that I am aware. My title, Lord Byron, is a part of my estate, and one which I bear proudly. As far as I have researched, George Gordon's family line ended near the turn of the century. I have found no connections that suggest I am related to him. BL: Any bragging rights for England with Marty Warnett? LB: [sneering] He is Welsh. Need I say more? BL: Hehehe. I guess not. How rich are you? LB: Let's just say that unlike most of the "superstars" in this federation, I'm not here for the money. BL: Anything to add? What's next for Lord Byron? LB: I intend to press my claims for a title. The "champions" will not be able to ignore my challenge for much longer. And I intend to start tonight. BL: Tonight? But you're not scheduled to wrestle tonight... [Byron smirks] BL: Unless..... LB: Unless, of course, I have accepted the challenge of a certain would-be law enforcer. [Byron stands up, and takes Becky's mic] I've come to a crossroads here in my IIWF career, and it's time that all these ignorant peons [Byron waves at the crowd to a huge heel pop] finally stood up and gave me the respect I am due. You and I both know, Miss Larue, that I could easily outwrestle any of the IIWF superstars on any given occasion. As I said, I am the finest technical wrestler in the world, and tonight I am going to give the man known as Creed the wrestling lesson of his life. Let me tell you this: I was winning matches and taking titles when this "Creed" was still only a glint in a mad scientist's test tube! [Big pop as the CEO appears in the aisle, heading down to the Lair. Byron smirks, and stepping away from Becky, turns to face Montgomery as he ascends the aisle.] LB: Any type of match, any stipulations I want, Mr. Montgomery? Don't make me laugh! I don't NEED to tie one arm behind your monster's back to defeat it. So far you've fought undercarders and imbeciles. Let's see how you fare against a TRUE wrestler! [The CEO, immaculately attired as always in his grey pinstripe suit and blood red tie, strides confidently onto the set. The crowd buzzes as it spots Montgomery and immediately search the aisle for Creed - to no avail.] CEO: Well, your Lordship, congratulations. You see, tonight is a momentous occasion, for this is the evening when my man Creed begins his historic climb to the top of the IIWF. Because, you're right, Lord Byron, when you say that Creed has never before faced a wrestler of your calibre, a man who has distinguished himself in so many different Federations. [Byron sneers at the compliment, and ignores the jeering of the crowd] CEO: I'm just glad you were able to make time in your busy, jet-setting schedule to come here to the IIWF Coliseum on a Saturday Night. How many Federations are you a part of, six, seven? You've been a multi-beltholder, a top contender in every one of them... well, except the only one that means anything, of course [big pop]. See, you're a fine technician, a solid mat wrestler, but you've gotta bring just a little bit of muscle if you want to go anywhere in the IIWF [Big pop! Byron glares across at the crowd]. Frankly, Byron, I think a finesse wrestler like you is better utilized someplace where you can take a little more time off. [Byron snatches the mic from the CEO.] LB: [snarling] Don't patronise me, Mr. Montgomery. I have been a top ten contender in the IIWF ever since my debut, and it's high time I was treated as such! My "schedule" is none of your business, and believe me, I NEVER take on a workload that is too big for myself. [Byron gives the CEO a mock bow] Which is the very reason I accepted your challenge. If you really doubt the ability of a "finesse" wrestler like myself to rend your mindless automonon limb from limb, then I would watch tonight's match up very carefully. [Byron steps towards the CEO, glaring right into his face, and spits] It may just teach you something about the value of EXPERIENCE! [Heel pop!] [CEO turns to leave, then holds up his index finger as if needing to say one last thing and returns.] CEO: And by the way, Creed wasn't "created" in some test tube somewhere, he's a man. A real man. Obviously you don't know a real man when you see one -- which might explain why you can't even keep your woman satisfied, your Lordship. [The CEO smirks as the crowd lets out a collective "oooh". The CEO turns to leave again, but is spun around by Byron, who is seething with rage.] LB: How DARE you insult the Lady DeWinter in such a manner! I demand an apology! [The CEO smiles and shakes his head, and turns away, only to be spun back around by Byron again.] LB: [jabbing the CEO's chest with his cane] Fine. I'll take my anger out on Creed in the ring. And once I've humiliated him in front of this capacity crowd, I'll make you beg for forgiveness! [Byron spits into the CEO's face, and pushes him back, raising his cane. At that moment, Creed comes barrelling down to the set to a huge crowd pop, and begins laying into Byron with hard right hands, followed up by a tremendous left-armed clothesline that knocks Byron off his feet. Byron gets straight back up and launches himself at Creed, but before the brawl can go any further, the Jobber Justice Squad runs down to the set and drags the warring parties apart.] BL: Shoo! Shoo! get back! This dress isn't insured. [The combatants are dragged backstage] Admit it, Tim... he's rich, gorgeous, talented, polite _and_ an English lord... isn't he dreamy? "Lady LaRue", I could get used to the sound of that... [Becky muses as the camera cuts back to a somewhat uncomfortable Tim Dross.] TD: What a match that's going to be later on tonight, folks! Lord Byron battles Creed one-on-one! SR: Creed's going to find out just how good Byron is in the ring first hand, Dross. It's going to be great! TD: Up next, we're set to see "Quickstrike" Chris Quigley face "Desirable" Danny Dynamite in one-on-one action. Let's go backstage to hear from the combatants in this big match: [Cut to the locker room. Dynamite and Reyna stand with the FWLI Tag Titles, the GCW Global titles, and the FOPEW US belts, while Dynamite has the RSPCW Japan title. Kauffman is on the phone in the background.] DDD: Syndicate... You wanna talk about who wrote the rules. DO WE LOOK LIKE WE CARE ABOUT WHO WROTE THE RULES?! We BREAK 'em, and REWRITE 'em, P.C. style. James, you may have the IIWF strap, but we all know who YOUR champ is. Reyna: And Dark [BLEEP], you two, along with your get-a-long gang and ALL of the IIWF will soon find out wo the TRUE TAG CHAMPS are... it's a case of the "golden touch" virus.. Its not personal, its business... and that's what we do best. DDD: As for Quigley, better yet, Otto... The match comin' up, this is also business. The business of shutting up one year of whining that has come out of Chrissy's mouth. Otto, you may say you're the "best man to watch his back", but we've wrestled BIGGER and DUMBER idiots than you, and we've ALWAYS come out on top. Michael will be ringside to watch my back. DON'T, I repeat, DON'T try anything stupid. [Dynamite stops and pauses just a second before continuing.] As for you, Q-Man. This will be a test. People say I'm a tag wrestler now, I don't have what it takes to be singles. I make my living proving people wrong. I proved I could go out and become a champ in only my third match of my career, and the second match of the night. I've proven to be not only the top-rated light heavyweight in numerous promotions, but to be credited in the best matches those promotions have ever had. IIWF, it's the dawn of a new era. The "Gold Rush" has begun. Reyna: Syndicate, give your hearts to God. DDD: 'Cause your asses, and those IIWF Tag belts... are OURS! [Fade to black as Kauffman is heard on the phone saying, "Yeah Joe, we'll scout your other matches, just THINK of the waves we could make together." The screen spins. Cut to Bulldog Brown standing with "Quickstrike" Chris Quigley in his locker room.] BB: I'm here with Chris Quigley, who tonight faces one half of the Players' Club, Danny Dynamite, in singles competition. There are some intriguing aspects involved with this match, no doubt. First of all, we've got to wonder how Dynamite will wrestle in a singles match. Secondly, will Chris Quigley be able to control his temper against one of the men who tried to end his career? But most importantly, will Otto Verhoeven actually watch Quigley's back tonight? Chris? [Quigley removes his shades.] CQ: All I've gotta say is this! If Danny Dynamite has even the slightest thought that he's gonna beat me tonight, he's the one in need of a doctor, and I'm not talking about those of the physical variety! And you ask me if I can control myself? Have I _ever_ controlled myself?! I let my anger go in the ring! I mean, c'mon, this is pro wrestling! There's no room for sweethearts here! Dynamite is gonna find that out pretty soon. And as far as Verhoeven goes... the offer is on the table. If he wants to prove his worth, he can come on down. If he doesn't come out? Big deal. It's not like I really need the guy to win here tonight. I'd just love to see The Players' Club on the receiving end of the Meat Hook! BB: Any chance Dan Kauffman will show up? [Quigley cracks a smile.] CQ: I'd be an idiot if I said there was no way Kauffman was gonna show up here tonight, but I'd be an idiot if I said he was definitely going to come out as well! Kauffman can do whatever the hell he wants to do. I don't give a damn, but let me just say this, Kauffman. I'm gonna make you a little promise right now. I don't know when, I don't know where, I don't even care if it's a sanctioned match between us! You are gonna be locked in the Quickstriker, and I'm _not_ gonna let go! You _tried_ to end my career, maybe it's time I _end_ yours. Dynamite, prepare to get blown away, 'cause you're stepping into the ring with the _best_ tonight! [Quigley slides his shades back on and walks away.] BB: Quigley is ready! Is Dynamite? And will Otto Verhoeven show? Those questions will be answered shortly... [Cut back to ringside.] =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Chris Quigley (w/Otto Verhoeven) vs. Danny Dynamite (w/Michael Reyna) =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Writer: NN TD: The action is hot from the beginning here on IIWF Saturday Night, and up next we've got a heated rivalry... Chris Quigley facing "Desirable" Danny Dynamite, representing the Players' Club. SR: After that spike powerbomb a couple of weeks ago, Chris Quigley will be looking to get some revenge on the Club -- and send a message to one Dan Kauffman. TD: Kauffman and Quigley have had problems for quite some time now, and we all saw that brutal, unprovoked attack just two weeks ago on Saturday Night. This Players' Club has really shown a mean streak as of late. SR: They just woke up, Dross. Kauffman has been a molly-coddler for far too long now. TD: A what?! RA: The following matchup is set for one fall. Introducing first, from the center of every... geez, at 235 pounds and representing the Players' Club... "Desirable" Danny Dynamite!!! [Michael Reyna comes through the curtain first, followed by Dynamite. Reyna is pointing at Dynamite as if to insinuate that he is the man. Dynamite, wearing a long black robe, comes down to the ring. He has a goatee and short brown hair. Upon his arrival to the ring, he removes his robe to reveal black trunks with "Desirable" on the seat. The crowd gives a mixed reaction for the Players' Club as they jump on opposite turnbuckles, working the crowd.] TD: What a bunch of jerks. SR: What are you talking about, Dross? These two are going to stamp Quigley's fire out. TD: I don't know, Steve. Quigley's flame is burning red hot right now, and I don't know if even the Flash can put it out. [As "For Those About to Rock" by AC/DC plays, the crowd jumps to its feet and begins cheering. Chris Quigley comes through the curtain first, followed by Otto "The Butcher" Verhoeven.] RA: And his opponent, being accompanied down the aisle by Otto Verhoeven... [Big heel pop at the mention of Verhoeven's name.] from Corner Brook, Newfoundland, Canada, weighing in at 238 pounds, "Quickstrike" Chris Quigley! [Quigley makes his way down the aisle, high fiving fans along the way. About halfway up the aisle, he turns to look back, but Verhoeven beckons for him to get to the ring.] TD: Already a little dissension perhaps between these two men? SR: Well, we all know that Otto doesn't care much for these American fans, and Quigley's wasting his time... I don't know what "Quickstrike" is thinking. [Quigley decides not to argue with the big man, and heads toward the ring, continuously high fiving more fans along the way. Upon Quigley's arrival, he heads to one corner of the ring, fist raised, but Dynamite jumps him from behind with a clothesline. The ref quickly calls for the bell, and heads out of the ring. Verhoeven, who hasn't even made it to the ring yet, watches from the outside, opposite the ring from Reyna. Dynamite rushes in to the corner and hits Quigley with an elbow, but the Canadian star fights right back with fists of his own. Dynamite fights him off for a while, but is eventually stunned by the blows, and Quigley is quick to follow up with a suplex. He covers - 1 - 2 - kickout. Dynamite gets back to his feet, but Quigley takes him down with a beautiful arm drag.] TD: See, Roberts... cheating never pays. SR: Oh, spare me the windy sermon, Dross. Dynamite made a good move, taking advantage of Quigley's stupidity, and he got the upper hand early on. TD: Right now, where is he? SR: Well, on his face, but... TD: But you spent a lot of time there in your career, too, so it's alright? SR: Yeah, I mean, no... I... TD: He he he. SR: Watch it, Dross. [As Quigley cinches up on the armbar, Otto Verhoeven stalks around the ring, jawing with a fan in the third row. Dynamite struggles back to his feet, and is able to reverse the hold into a hammerlock. Quigley, however, rams an elbow into Danny's face, and bounces him to the ropes. Quigley drops his head, but Danny is able to counter with a sunset flip, 1 - 2 - kickout. Quigley gets to his feet and tries to hip toss Dynamite, but it is reversed into a back slide - 1 - 2 - kickout again. Dynamite argues with the referee about the count, while Reyna tells him to concentrate on the match. Quigley gets back to his feet and charges in, but Dynamite is able to duck in time to avoid the attack, and Quigley falls out to the floor.] SR: A singles wrestler, Chris Quigley, is getting schooled by a man who's used to having a partner to rely on, Dross. If Quigley doesn't pick up the pace, he's going to job to the lower members of the Players' Club, and he can forget about Kauffman... [Michael Reyna quickly darts around the ring toward Quigley, who is laid out on the floor. Reyna gets a boot into Quigley's midsection, and grabs a chair.] TD: This is big trouble for "Quickstrike"... come on ref, do something! SR: Come on Reyna! Got the balls to hit him? Give it to him on the jaw... [As Dynamite distracts the referee, the Maverick pulls the chair up behind his head, ready to hit the fallen Quigley. As he rears back, the chair is stopped in its tracks -- by Otto Verhoeven's hand. Reyna turns around to see what is happening, and walks right into the grasp of the Butcher's right hand. Verhoeven delivers a massive chokeslam, and the crowd responds with a huge heel pop!] SR: What a loser. He had everything going for him -- a chair, a fallen victim, and it was Quigley for heaven's sake... and he _still_ couldn't get the job done! How pathetic. TD: _Again_ the Players' Club tries to cheat, but to no avail. Maybe they should just try wrestling fair; their shenanigans are backfiring on them every time. [Otto picks Quigley up and helps him back into the ring. Dynamite, fuming from the attack on his partner, charges in with a clothesline, but it is ducked by Quigley. Dynamite comes back off the rope and is met by a drop kick from Quigley! Dynamite gets back to his feet, but is placed in a headlock, and taken over into a pinning predicament - 1 - 2 - kickout. Quigley charges in with a clothesline and connects, sending Dynamite all the way over the top rope to the floor.] TD: Chris Quigley fighting like a man on a mission! If he can keep this up, it'll be all over for Dynamite! SR: This is lame... where's that wimp Kauffman when you _really_ need him? TD: I don't know, Steve, but it's going to take more than Dan Kauffman to finish off Quigley! [The referee begins his count on Dynamite - 1 - 2 - 3 - Danny begins to get back to his feet, so Otto grabs him by the hair and rams his head into the apron. The ref stops counting and warns Otto, who just shrugs and throws Dynamite back into the ring. Quigley picks Dynamite up by the hair and begins choking him against the ropes. The referee pulls Quigley off, who then follows up with a kick to the midsection of his opponent. He covers - 1 - 2 - Dynamite's foot pops up and hits the rope.] TD: I'm disappointed in that. Quigley knows better than to cover a man without hooking his rope-side leg. SR: "Rope-side", huh? Hey, that's a new one... reminds me of when we were on that world tour and this gorgeous blonde from Rome... TD: Uh, that'll be enough. [Danny Dynamite tries to drag himself to his feet via the top rope, but a kick to the midsection by Quigley discourages it. Quigley picks Dynamite up and sends him to the ropes, executing a high back body drop. He is slow to cover - 1 - 2 - kickout. Stunned pop from the crowd. Quigley picks him up again, whipping him to the turnbuckle. As Danny stumbles out of the corner, Quigley winds up for a superkick. As the crowd pops, Quigley hops across the ring, Dynamite ducks under the foot, and is able to reach up and nail Quigley with a modified spinebuster.] SR: That's Dan Kauffman's move, Dross! He's learned from that wimp, Kauffman, and he's going to win the match! Come on ref... [Dynamite hooks a leg and the referee slides into position - 1 - 2 - kickout! Huge pop from the crowd! On the outside, Reyna yells something to the referee, while holding up three fingers to indicate what he thought the count should have been. Quigley is slow to his feet, and is taken down by a clothesline. Dynamite kicks Quigley out to the floor, at the feet of Michael Reyna. At this time, Otto begins taking things into his own hands...] TD: Get him off the apron! What is he even doing here? SR: He's just discussing things with the official, wondering what was wrong with Quigley's last pin attempt. TD: It was only for two seconds, that was what was wrong with it. [Otto stands on the apron, jawing with Dynamite as Reyna begins kicking Quigley in the leg. When he feels that he's done enough damage, he throws the injured Quigley back into the ring. As Quigley inches toward Dynamite from behind, Otto continues to talk trash to his face. The crowd begins to stir, realizing something is about to happen. Dynamite seems to nod in agreement and throws up his hands, backing away from Otto. He then stops and rocks him with a superkick which sends the big German flying off the apron to the floor. Pop!] SR: Get up Otto... we need you in there! [As Dynamite gloats at the fallen Butcher, Quigley charges him from behind. Reyna warns Dynamite, who is able to turn just in time to block Quigley's attempted kick to the midsection. As Dynamite nods his head in appreciation of his own handy work, Quigley nails a devastating enzuigiri to the back of his head, rendering Dynamite helpless. Otto gets up on the outside as Chris Quigley hops up to the second turnbuckle and delivers a elbow drop. Quigley then points at Otto and yells, "take care of him!", in reference to Michael Reyna. Otto nods, and attacks Reyna, as Chris Quigley snaps Dynamite back to his feet. Cameras flash and the crowd pops as Quigley executes a beautiful Dragon Suplex.] TD: It's the "Plexecution"! SR: Oh, man... [Quigley drops on top, not even bothering to hook a leg. The referee makes a slow count - 1 - 2 - 3! Ding! Ding! Ding!] RA: The winner of the match... ["For Those About to Rock" starts up again] ...is "Quickstrike" Chris Quigley!!! [Michael Reyna, fuming at the result of the match, is able to escape Otto's clutches, who doesn't seem to care. Reyna rushes in on him, but is quickly ejected from the ring by Quigley, who back body drops and then kicks him under the bottom rope. As Quigley yells at the two Players' Club members leaving the ring, the crowd begins to stir. Quigley heads to a turnbuckle and looks to the aisle, calling out "come and get `em Dan!" Much to his surprise, however, the noise is for Otto Verhoeven, who has snuck up behind Quigley and backside suplexed him off the top rope. Big heel pop!] TD: Oh, he turned on Quigley! How awful! SR: Get him, Butcher! He's just a street punk! [Otto seems to agree, as he pummels the fallen combatant, attacking him with everything from elbow drops to kicks in the midsection. Finally, Otto picks up the stunned Quigley and finishes him off for good with a chokeslam. As Verhoeven leaves the ring, the crowd is jeering him the whole way. Otto doesn't care though, and walks straight back to the locker room.] TD: What a loathesome attack on the part of the Butcher. I cannot believe the audacity to stick with somebody for a match, only to jump him afterwards. SR: Geez, Dross... it's Otto! What do you expect? [The official helps tend to Chris Quigley laying in the ring. Otto has long since left the ringside area.] TD: There they help Chris Quigley out of the ring... He _did_ win his match tonight, though it doesn't really look like it now, and a great ovation for Chris Quigley! SR: Yawn. TD: I understand we've got Larry Morton backstage with one angry Butcher... Mort? [Cut to Larry Morton standing backstage. Beside him stands Otto Verhoeven, with a broad grin on his face.] LM: I stand here beside... OV: SHUT UP AND GIVE ME THIS! [He grabs the microphone and pushes Morton away.] Quigley, I kept my word, I assisted you in your little war against the Players' Club, but did you truly believe for one second that I would pass up such an opportunity and show you once again that the Butcher is always lurking around the corner and able to give you a tougher beating than anyone else? Players' Club, you are safe at the moment, because tonight, another favorite of these unwashed Americans will go DOWN, once... and for all! [He throws the microphone to Morton and walks off. Cut back to the announcers' table.] SR: [applauding as he speaks] Way to go, Butch! You da man! TD: Please, Steve. What kind of a man stabs a colleague in the back? SR: A 6'8", 340 pound foreigner who does what he wants when he wants? TD: Oh, yeah... I guess only _you_ could stop him. SR: But why would I want to? He's Otto! TD: While we ponder those words of wisdom, let's go to some pretaped comments from Serge Annis, who is still gunning for IIWF World Champion, Dan Kauffman: [Cut to footage subtitled, "Earlier Tonight". Serge Annis stands in the locker room.] SA: Respect, Dan Kauffman, you used to be about respect. But now... now you've changed... people seem to think I am a pushover around here in the IIWF. Kauffman, you and I both know that is simply not the case. Now I could come out here and talk about Deathbringer, but I won't. WHY? Because I want to make a point known plain and simple. Dan Kauffman, you are a joke. You used to be the federation's most prized possession. You were the perfect champion... the hero... Kauffman, I am making this very simple for you to understand, I'm not going to say anything that will baffle your feeble mind. I just want my sixty seconds of air time to let you and everyone else know that I have not forgotten my purpose of coming to the IIWF, unlike you, Danny Boy. My purpose is to put to rest your claims, put to rest your pathetic excuses of why you lost the WCeW, and to simply put you and your mouth to rest. I want more than revenge, Kauffman, but I said I won't get technical today, and Serge Annis's word is his bond. Kauffman, here it is in the simplest terms I can put it: I AM STILL HERE, AND I AM STILL LURKING ABOUT, WAITING FOR THE RIGHT TIME TO KICK IN YOUR HEAD! TO SHATTER YOUR SPINE! And to snap your neck... you have fun being a "badass", while I will have fun preparing... preparing for your destruction! Kauffman vs. Annis... it will happen again... with the same result... but a much more serious effect! Maybe then I can get some respect in the IIWF... NOW GET THAT [bleep]ING CAMERA OUT OF HERE BEFORE I BREAK IT! [Cut back to ringside.] TD: Okay, folks, up next we've got a big tag team championship match. The titles have been defaced by the current champions, the Dark Disciples, and the latest team to try and take the belts away from them are Domination, although there's some doubt that Mistress' men have arrived at the arena tonight. SR: They're chicken, Dross. Simple as that. TD: I don't know about that, Steve. Let's get back up to the ring. =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= IIWF WORLD TAG TEAM CHAMPIONSHIP MATCH: =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Dark Disciples [c] vs. Domination --------------------------------------- Writer: JJ [Sparkplug Lee nervously enters the ring, shuffling his notecards and covering the microphone with his hand, mouthing "what do I do?" to the timekeeper's table.] TD: Well, we've got a bit of a situation here, Steve. Up next is the match for the IIWF Tag Team Championship between the Dark Disciples and Domination. But the word from the back is that the challengers aren't here. SR: Gee, Dross, think they'll show? Hey, maybe Kowalski can come out and take on both the Disciples. [Brian Lau is at ringside, conversing with IIWF officials, leading to Sparkplug retaking the mic.] SL: The following contest is set for one fall and is for the IIWF World Tag Team Championship! Introducing first, accompanied to the ring by Don McQueen, at a combined weight of 615 pounds, from parts unknown, the IIWF Tag Team Champions -- Kane, Wulf -- the Dark Disciples! [Tattooed and snarling, the champs begin their walk to ringside, both title belts draped over the shoulders of Don McQueen. The druidic chanting is barely able to drown out the loud heel reaction for these representatives of the roundly disliked Syndicate.] SR: Well, the champs are here, Dross, all marked up and ready to go. Are we gonna see those leather-bound freaks or can we go home early? SL: Their opponents, at a combined weight of 620 pounds...soon to appear down the aisle, Mr. Psycho and Monster, Domination! ["Countdown to Extinction" begins but is pumped through the PA to a small pop, but still Domination is nowhere to be seen.] TD: I think we're going to have to... what's that, what's... that's smoke! There's a huge, thick cloud of white smoke literally billowing from the locker room area! SR: I guess Serge Annis musta lost a ping pong game. Bye-bye, Mr. Table. TD: I don't know about that, Steve, but the smoke is beginning to fill the ringside area and frankly, I'm having difficulty seeing... there's... there's commotion from the back... something is, it's Domination! It is Domination! Monster and Mr. Psycho have hit the ring and are laying the Disciples out! [The camera makes out the forms of Mr. Psycho and Monster, who are double teaming Wulf while Kane is doubled up in the corner, apparently the victim of the initial assault. Psycho is peppering Wulf's neck area with vicious right hands while Monster delivers boot after boot to the midsection of the huge champion. Wulf drops to the mat and Domination stomps him mercilessly, to the now full encouragement of the crowd as the smoke has subsided enough for the ring to be seen.] TD: Domination has really done a Pearl Harbor job on the champs, Steve Roberts! Take a look at what these men are doing to Wulf! SR: I'm looking at something else, Dross, I'm looking at the man hobbling away from ringside, that's Joe Petrow! Petrow's... Petrow's taken the tag belts from the timekeeper, Petrow's got the tag belts and I don't think the Disciples see him, Dross! [Petrow, still clearly hampered from the pounding he took in his victory over Dirt Dog Unique Allah, smirks as he disappears back to the dressing room area, unseen by the Disciples, and by most of the fans, save for one Mad Dog Watkins, who took careful note of Petrow's actions from his seat at ringside. Kane has struggled to his feet and rushes to save his partner, who has continued to be brutally assaulted by the challengers. Kane is able to shove Mr. Psycho away, but Monster whips Kane farside and he and Psycho double clothesline Kane clear out of the ring on his return. Monster then steps over the top rope and brings his full 300+ pounds down on Kane's back with a double axe from the apron, leaving in the ring Mr. Psycho and the still fallen Wulf, who are declared the legal men as the bell finally sounds.] SR: I suppose you think this is all right, Dross, a sneak attack on the Disciples, what kind of men are these guys? TD: Turnabout is fair play, Steve Roberts, the Syndicate is due this and a lot more. SR: Turnabout is fair play, you make that one up yourself, Dross? That's brilliant commentary. [Kane has regained his footing and he and Monster brawl on the outside, while Mr. Psycho continues an all out assault on Wulf, which is only abated by the hopping up to the apron of Brian Lau. Psycho abandons Wulf and runs to the ropes to confront the leader of the Syndicate, who spits at the the Psycho one! Mr. Psycho swings at Lau - who ducks and taunts the challenger, unfortunately not seeing the left-handed slap from Mr. Psycho that knocks him out onto the floor! Kane sees his fallen leader and disengages Monster, sprinting around to his corner to guide Lau to his feet and then take his own place on the apron. Monster now readies himself for an eventual tag and both men intently watch as Wulf has taken the opportunity to regain his bearings and now has Mr. Psycho backed into a neutral corner.] SR: He blew it, Dross, you can't let the big man get to a vertical base, he's gotta outweigh Mr. Psycho by a hundred pounds -- most of it muscle and teeth. [Wulf takes a couple of forearm jabs at Mr. Psycho's jaw and then whips the smaller man hard into the opposite corner, following up with a big elbow smash as Psycho hit the buckle. Wulf whips Mr. Psycho again, but Psycho reverses and it is Wulf who runs into the buckle. Mr. Psycho charges - but is met with a short clothesline from the powerful champion that knocks him to the mat, Wulf bounces off the ropes and drops a big leg...and misses. Mr. Psycho rolls away and scrambles to his corner, tagging in his bigger partner. Monster steps in over the top rope to a pop from an expectant crowd.] TD: Look at these two men, Steve Roberts! Look at this action, listen to these people, this is the IIWF, where the big boys play, right here on the mothership! SR: [pause] Dross, if you ever say that again, I will hurt you. TD: Saturday Night! SR: Dross, on my children's eyes, Dross. Don't ever say that again. TD: Uh... okay. [Monster raises his right hand, offering Wulf a test of strength challenge, Wulf pauses and then accepts, quickly driving Monster's hand down. The massive challenger is able to compensate, however, and has soon gained the upper hand, driving Wulf down to the mat... or would have had the big Disciple not delivered a boot to the midsection, breaking the hold. Wulf takes advantage of the bowed Monster with three huge forearm uppercuts and then an Irish whip into a big boot! Monster goes down and Wulf covers... 1 - 2 - big kickout by the challenger. Wulf drops a quick elbow to the throat and then drags Monster to his feet, Monster attempts a clothesline, but misses and Wulf deadlifts the big man off his feet! Wulf lifts Monster high into the air... into a vertical suplex! Into a vertical suplex, but he can't hold it and Monster topples over into the Disciples' corner, smacking into the buckle hard with his back and winding up upside down!] SR: Hey, Dross, what are the three most important words in real estate? Location, location, and location -- and Monster's in the wrong part of town! [Kane has hooked the big man's feet into the top rope and Monster's head is draped on the ground, thoroughly helpless as Wulf repeatedly slams into his midsection. Mr. Psycho attempts to enter but is blocked by the official, Kane hops into the ring without a tag and starts working the midsection while Wulf moves to biting at the head of the Monster. The official returns and Wulf leaves the ring, confused as to the legal man. He allows Kane to continue the attack and the smaller Disciple knocks Monster free of the ropes with a series of boots to the head. Kane tags in Wulf who drags Monster to the center of the ring only to be met by the onrushing Mr. Psycho who tackles the big man and peppers him with furious right hands before being dragged back to the corner by the official. Unfortunately for Domination this allows the Disciples to double team yet again, Kane going all the way to the top rope where he is picked up by Wulf who slams him atop the prone Monster! Kane covers 1 - 2 - Mr. Psycho makes the save with a boot to Kane's back.] TD: The Disciples are just bullies, Roberts! They have brutalized the big Monster out there. SR: And your point is...? [Kane makes the tag to Wulf who bounces off the ropes and drops a big leg atop Monster, 1 - 2 - another save by Mr. Psycho, this time met by Kane before he can make it back to his corner and all four men are in the ring. Wulf drags Monster to his feet and, following up on a couple of forearm shots, Kane whips Mr. Psycho hard at his partner... who is able to escape from Wulf and Mr. Psycho collides hard into the big Disciple! Big pop as Wulf staggers and then goes down from a huge clothesline by Monster. Kane rushes the big man -- but is met with a simple trip from Mr. Psycho which sends him into the arms of Monster who picks him up by the back of the neck and slams him face first into the canvas! Big pop!] TD: That's the superface slam! Domination's gonna win this! Mr. Psycho goes to cover Kane who is laid flat out... but there is no count from the official! SR: They're not legal, Dross. The big guys are the legal men. [Kane is dragged to his feet by Mr. Psycho, who Irish whips him into a big back body drop from Monster... who himself is immediately clotheslined hard by Wulf, the force of the blow sending both men sparawling over the ropes. Mr. Psycho is down atop Kane, trying to apply some type of leglock, while the big men are throwing right hands on the outside. Wulf whips Monster into the timekeeper's table but then is met with a back elbow by the big albino who then drives Wulf's head into the retaining barrier. Kane has managed to reverse the hold inside the ring and is putting an enormous amount of pressure to Mr. Psycho's lower back as the official's count reaches - 8 - 9 - 10! Ding! Ding! Ding!] TD: What's going on? What... oh, this is disappointing. SL: The official has counted out both legal men outside the ring... this match is a DRAW! [The fans boo as the two men in the ring fall away from each other, each too spent to continue, Lau and McQueen pull Wulf away from Monster, both big men continuing to struggle to get at each other.] SL: This means that the IIWF Tag Team Champions are still -- the Dark Disciples! [A moderate heel pop as the crowd begins to notice the consternation around the timekeeper's table, when Brian Lau realizes his tag championship belts are nowhere to be found! Domination leaves the ring area and the Dark Disciples surround the official, absolutely fuming that their belts have somehow been misplaced.] SR: They'll be even more upset when they find out who's got those belts, Dross. Petrow must be nuts to intentionally irritate the Syndicate like that. TD: Unless he's got the backing of his own organization, Steve Roberts, remember how we saw Dan Kauffman carefully watching Petrow defeat Dirt Dog Unique Allah earlier in the evening, perhaps Petrow was on official Players' club business when he pilfered the tag championship belts. [As the ring is cleared and the crowd begins to settle, there is suddenly a commotion at the head of the aisle. Somebody emerges from the locker room area.] TD: Hang on -- somebody's coming down here... SR: It's the Subway Stinker! I could smell him a mile away! [The crowd explodes with a huge pop as they realise that it is indeed the Subway Psycho coming to ringside. He walks straight down the center of the aisle, looking very determined. Uncharacteristically, he doesn't extend his hands to any fans. As he walks around the ring, he grabs a microphone from the timekeeper's table. He enters the ring and stalks its perimeter, visibly angry. The crowd starts a chant of "Psy-cho! Psy-cho!"] TD: What does he want out here now? His match is scheduled for later in the event. SP: I know I'm out here a little early, but I can't wait anymore! President Spreadbury, wherever you are, get your ring crew out here! Set up the rail! Right now... set it up! [Big pop as the Psycho begins to circle the ring again, the crowd cheering him on. Within thirty seconds or so, a number of ring staff come to ringside, along with Poutine Janois, head of the IIWF's Special Concerns Committee. Janois speaks with the timekeeper, and with other ringside officials, as the ring crew pull equipment out from under the ring.] TD: Well, folks, it looks like the Subway Psycho is getting his wish. Poutine Janois is having the equipment set up. SR: What about Otto? Doesn't anybody want to ask Verhoeven whether he's happy to wrestle the match earlier than expected? TD: Verhoeven is always ready for action, Steve, and he usually can't wait to get his hands on the Psycho either. [The Psycho impatiently stalks around the ring as the ring crew set up the rail in the centre of the ring, taping it down, while other staff hook up the electrodes at opposite corner posts.] TD: While we're waiting for the ring to be set up, it might be a good idea for me to go through the rules of this match. Don't expect a scientific match here, folks. This is going to be an all-out brawl, with no disqualifications, no countouts, no pinfalls and no submissions. The only way to win this match is to connect the two electrodes to the terminals on the rail, and put your opponent on it, electrocuting them. SR: Flame-grilled sewer rat is on the menu in the IIWF Cafeteria all next week, you know, Dross. TD: It is not, Steve. The Psycho has never lost a Third Rail Match in his career, although he has only wrestled one in the IIWF, against Joe Latta back last summer. The Psycho knows his way around a subway track better than anybody else, and he's right at home in the ring around that electrified rail. SR: The Butcher's going to fry him, Dross. I just know it. And by the way, wasn't that match with Joe Latta immediately after Spreadbury stripped the Psycho's sorry hide of the World Title? That's what I thought, Dross. [As the ring crew roll out of the ring, the Psycho raises the microphone once more. The crowd pops.] SP: I'm only going to say this once. Any jackasses back there that think they're going to come down here during this match and screw with me, I got news for you. I'll rip your freakin' heads off and drop kick them back up the aisle and throw what's left of you on the rail. That's not a threat, that's a god-damn promise! Otto, you son of a bitch, get your fat ass out here! Leave your woman and your goons. It's go time, and it's you and me... that's it! [Psycho throws the microphone to Sparkplug Lee on the outside and begins stalking around the ring once more. He stops and starts pounding on the ropes, and in time the crowd begins to chant "U - S - A! U - S - A!" Psycho leans up against the far ropes, facing the aisle, fixing his eyes on the entranceway and beckoning Verhoeven out.] TD: Well, it looks like we're going to have this match a little early, folks! SR: No matter. Verhoeven's still gonna kick the Stinker's ass. =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- THIRD RAIL MATCH: -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Subway Psycho vs. Otto "the Butcher" Verhoeven ---------------------------------------------- Writer: NN [Sparkplug Lee climbs into the ring.] RA: Ladies and gentlemen, the following encounter is a special Third Rail Match! [Big pop!] Introducing first, already in the ring... from the Subways from New York City, at 255 pounds, this is the Subway Psycho! [The Psycho throws his clenched fists up in the air, as "Crazy Train" by Ozzy Osbourne plays over the loudspeaker. The crowd gives out a massive pop, and the Psycho focuses on the aisle.] TD: The Subway Psycho is ready to go, how will Otto respond to this? SR: He's got to be infuriated, Dross. I mean, look at the situation. Verhoeven just got done from laying out Quigley; he's got to be tired. And now, without ample recovery time, he has to come out and fight the Psycho... what a crock. Spreadbury pays my check, but other than that, he ain't too bright. [The theme from "Halloween" starts up.] TD: Oh, boy... here comes ol' Michael Myers. SR: Not exactly, but he's just a scary, just as vicious, and double tough... he's Otto Verhoeven! RA: And his opponent, being accompanied to the ring by Nurse Heidi... from Essen, Germany, at 6'8" and 340 pounds... Otto "The Butcher" Verhoeven! [Nurse Heidi comes out first, characteristically sporting a sour look on her face, and her crimson dress. Otto comes out next, obviously perturbed by this on-the-fly schedule change. He heads to the ring, swinging at fans and yelling at the Psycho, who is holding the ropes open for him to enter. Otto becomes enraged by this mocking, and sprints to the ring, only to be jumped by the Psycho on his way through the ropes.] TD: Whoa! We're underway, folks! [Otto fights back to his feet and begins slugging away at the Psycho, who returns fire right back. Nobody seems to be getting much of advantage, and Otto ends the brawl with a slap across the face of the Psycho. Otto grins ear-to-ear, one which is quickly erased by a right haymaker from the Psycho. Otto hits the mat, and the Psycho drops a knee to Otto's arm. He cinches up on a reverse armbar. The crowd chants "Psy - cho! Psy - cho!"] SR: This freaking bum has got an early advantage by means of jumping the honorable foreigner, but it won't last long, Dross. TD: This is a great matchup we have here, Steve. Two former world champions squaring off, but I'm telling you: the Psycho will win it; it's his type of match. SR: But _any_ match is Otto's type of match, Dross. I'm sure he'll eject this New York street rat in no time. [The Psycho tries to hold Otto down, but he is able to struggle back to his feet. As the Psycho pulls up on the arm, Otto lands a couple of swift elbows to his midsection, breaking the hold. Otto bounces Subway to the ropes, who leap frogs Otto on the rebound. Otto catches him with a hip toss as he comes off the ropes, and follows up with an elbow drop -- but misses! The Psycho gets back to his feet and body slams Otto, in an amazing display of power. Pop!] SR: This isn't doing him any good, Dross. He's got to fry Otto; not just toss him around. TD: Well, it looks as if he's about to try something... [The Psycho picks up one of the electrodes and whips Otto in the leg with it. The German screams in pain, and falls to the mat. He watches as the Subway Psycho connects the first electrode, and heads for the other turnbuckle. Otto is able to get back to his feet, and he grabs Psycho from behind, preventing him from getting the second one. Otto swings at the Psycho, who ducks and counters with an inverted atomic drop. Otto reels in pain from the blow, and the Psycho follows up with a running clothesline. Pop!] TD: Otto was able to thwart the Psycho's first attempt at frying him, but so far the second wind hasn't stopped the offensive barrage. SR: Man, he reeks. I can smell him all the way out here... why don't they make him go back to the locker room? TD: Smells of Wienerschnitzel and Frankfurters, huh? SR: No! I mean the Subway Psycho! TD: Oh. [The Subway Psycho stays on the offensive with a vertical suplex. He lifts the big man high in the air, and finally brings him down in the center of the ring, just to the side of the rail. One electrode is still hooked up.] TD: It's gonna be fried Kielbasa in the ring in a second! SR: That's terrible, Dross. The Psycho's more of a ham... you know, the ass of the animal. [The Subway Psycho climbs to the top rope and sets up. Otto stumbles back to his feet, and the Psycho measures him up. He launches himself across the ring and connects with a double axe handle to the face of Otto. Otto stumbles back and falls on the rail. Heidi shrieks and runs to a turnbuckle, yanking on the wire to the connected electrode. The Subway Psycho just smiles at her as he steps on the cord, not allowing her to pull it loose. She lets go, and with the crowd cheering, he goes after the second electrode. He grabs it and walks to the middle of the ring... Ding! Ding! Ding!] TD: The Subway Psycho has just won the Third Rail Match! SR: What? He didn't even hook it up, Dross... look! [A commotion comes from the crowd and the referee looks around. Nurse Heidi stands by the timekeeper, looking innocent. The ref hops through the ropes to confer with the timekeeper...] TD: Time limit draw? RA: Ladies and gentlemen, the time bell was sounded, illegally, by Nurse Heidi. [Big heel pop.] Therefore, the referee's official decision... SR: Don't disqualify Otto! RA: ...Nurse Heidi will be banned from ringside... and this matchup _must_ continue! [As the crowd pops in approval, Otto recovers and attacks the Psycho with a cord, which he has disconnected from the rail, whipping him in the leg with it. The Psycho goes down to his knees, and slumps against the ropes. Otto chokes him across it for a while, but then sees his Nurse Heidi being escorted out by two security guards and lets go, yelling at them. The guards just shrug Otto off and continue towards the back with her. The Psycho recovers, and takes Otto down with a drop toe hold.] TD: Nurse Heidi is gone, I think that just favors the Psycho even more! SR: He doesn't _need_ Heidi. I think he likes having something pretty to look at, but he doesn't affect the match any. TD: Just like when she locks somebody in the Sedative, is that an example of how she "doesn't affect the match any"? SR: Yep. [The Psycho gets back up and takes Otto off his feet with an arm drag. He then slides up into a headlock, wearing the big man down. Otto gets back to his feet and swings the Psycho to the ropes, executing a powerslam. Otto then drags the Psycho onto the rail and hooks up the first electrode. The Psycho is quick to his feet though, and stops Otto, hooks him up, and executes a German suplex. Pop! Otto stumbles back to his feet, but is met by a beautiful head-scissors by the Psycho, which takes him down to the mat.] TD: It's just about over, Steve... the Psycho's about to finish him off... [One electrode already hooked up, the Psycho heads for the second one. Otto struggles back to his feet, though, and blocks the Psycho's path to the rail. Otto catches him with a series of rights, rocking the big New Yorker. As the Psycho backs into the corner, Otto works him over with elbow shots and forearms. Subway falls to his seat, and looks woozy.] SR: Ha! See, Dross... I knew that Otto would overcome him. [Just as Otto winds up again, the Psycho takes the electrode, still in his hand, and drives it into the groin of Otto. The crowd laughs and cheers as Otto doubles over. The Psycho is quick to hop up to the top rope, and he waves once to the crowd.] TD: This has got to be it... [The Psycho leaps across the ring at hits Otto with the "Train Wreck", a jumping DDT off the top rope. The crowd pops as Otto's head hits the canvas hard. The Subway Psycho drags Otto onto the rail, and hooks up the final electrode. It looks like the Fourth of July as sparks fly and the lights go out from the power surge, leaving only a frying Otto Verhoeven in the ring. The electrocution stops after a couple of seconds, as it is supposed to, and the crowd lets out a huge pop as "Crazy Train" blasts over the PA. The bell sounds.] RA: Here is your winner... The Subway Psycho! [Heidi comes running to the ring to tend to her sauteed lover. The Psycho laughs at his electrocuted carcass and leaving the ring, circling once and high-fiving all of the fans. The Psycho then jogs back up the aisle, arms raised in victory, to a massive pop. Heidi stands over Otto in the ring, who is laying on his back, still twitching a bit from the shock. The fans laugh and jeer.] TD: Big win for the Psycho... and there's Otto, Steve. SR: I can't believe it. What a cheap attack on the part of the Subway Psycho. Wasn't that supposed to short out a little sooner? TD: It did after two seconds. SR: It felt like an eternity. [Otto is helped up to his feet by Heidi, but crashes back down again. Two officials enter the ring to help, but Otto gets back up and throws them away. Heidi helps a weakened Otto out of the ring, and slowly back up the aisle to a massive heel pop!] TD: He he. Well, I guess he got a taste of what America... feels like. SR: Shut the heck up, Dross. If my doctor would let me... TD: Yeah, we know, you'd get in there and kick the Psycho's posterior. Folks, we're running behind schedule, so we'd better move on to our next match. Creed and Lord Byron have already had one altercation here tonight, and they're about to meet again one-on-one. =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- Creed vs. Lord Byron -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Writer: RD TD: Lord Byron is the man who stepped up to the plate and accepted Creed's call for an opponent tonight. Both these men are looking for a big boost in the rankings, a victory tonight just might be the tonic they need. SR: I guess that means Byron will be using Creed as a stepping stone to greater things. He'll tie this big ape into knots. TD: What's your problem with Creed, Steve? SR: The moment those imbeciles in the audience started to cheer for him, I realised that he doesn't have what it takes to make it in this sport. TD: The fans have more intelligence than you give them credit for, Steve. Let's go down to Sparkplug for the official introduction. [The camera cuts to center ring as Sparkplug Lee steps into the spotlight.] RA: The following contest is scheduled for one fall. Introducing first, accompanied by Lady DeWinter, hailing from Lancashire, England, and weighing in at 265 lbs, here is Lord Byron! [There is a big heel pop from the crowd as Intermezzo from Karelia Suite plays over the loudspeakers. Lord Byron walks down the aisle with a look of supreme confidence on his face, ignoring the insults shouted at him from the audience. Lady DeWinter follows behind looking agitated and distraught. The jeers of the crowd seem to bother her and she halts for a brief exchange with an insulting fan.] TD: Lord Byron appears as confident as ever, but I wonder if he is so sure of himself beneath that cool and collected exterior. He might have spent more time sorting out his problems with Lady DeWinter than formulating a sound match strategy. SR: I'd better get Lady DeWinter's phone number so I can console her through these rough times. TD: I don't think she needs the kind of consoling you have in mind, Steve. [Lord Byron arrives at ringside and notices Mad Dog Watkins sitting in the front row. Byron gives a brief nod of recognition, and the wily veteran responds with a slight nod of his own. Byron enters the ring, but doesn't bother to hold open the ropes for Lady DeWinter.] RA: And introducing his opponent, accompanied to the ring by his CEO, Jack Montgomery, hailing from parts unknown, and weighing in at 275lbs, here is the man known as Creed! [There is a surprisingly loud pop from the audience as the words "Anyone. Anywhere. Anytime." echo throughout the arena. Creed appears at the head of the aisle as the fourth movement of Beethoven's Ninth Symphony thunders over the speakers. The CEO has a crafty smirk on his face as he guides Creed down to ringside.] SR: What's he grinning about? I hope he didn't get Lady DeWinter's phone number before me! TD: Don't get yourself into a panic Steve, I expect the CEO is smiling because he has something special in store for Lord Byron. SR: As long as he doesn't have anything special in store for Lady DeWinter. TD: Cool your jets, Steve! Lord Byron and the Lady DeWinter haven't even split up yet! [Creed notices Mad Dog Watkins sitting at ringside and gives the veteran a cold stare. Watkins remains unperturbed and smiles slightly to himself. Creed climbs the steps into the ring followed closely by the CEO. Montgommery leans over to Creed and begins whispering into his ear. The big man nods slightly a couple of times but doesn't change his expression.] SR: The CEO is whispering sweet nothings in Creed's ear! TD: Will you stop! The CEO is giving Creed his last minute instructions. [Ding! Ding! The CEO bails from the ring as the bell sounds and the two combatants face off. Byron and Creed measure up to each other well, having similar heights and weights, although Creed is the bulkier and more muscular of the two. Byron immediately comes at Creed with a punch to the midsection, catching the big man off guard and stunning him momentarily. The blueblood follows up by grabbing Creed's left arm and twisting it in a painful armwringer.] TD: Byron goes straight for Creed's deadliest weapon, that powerful left arm of his. If he can weaken it sufficiently Creed will be at a severe disadvantage later on in the match. SR: I'm mighty curious as to how Creed developed such a powerful left hand. TD: What are you suggesting, Steve? SR: Well, let's just say that red glove probably covers a very hairy palm. TD: I really have no idea what you're talking about. [Byron whips Creed to the ropes and meets him on the rebound with a powerful savate kick to the throat, dropping the big man to the canvas. Heel pop! Creed barely takes any notice and is straight back on his feet, lunging at Lord Byron. The blueblood wants no part of a slugfest with Creed however, and slips beneath the ring ropes to the arena floor. Byron paces around the ring as the ref begins to count. Lady DeWinter shouts advice to Lord Byron, but he doesn't appear to take any notice of her, much to her chagrin. Byron rolls back in the ring to break the count and goes to lock up with Creed, but the two struggle to a stalemate and shove each other off. Byron feins another lock up but just before contact he drops to the mat and rolls away. Once again, Byron slides out of the ring and begins to pace the floor.] TD: Lord Byron is apparently trying to frustrate Creed into losing his head by refusing to lock up. Creed doesn't look too perturbed however, and seems content to wait for Byron to stop messing around and get back into the ring. SR: Creed should go down there and break Byron's nose for him. TD: You've changed your tune, haven't you? SR: Well, if Creed puts Lord Byron in the hospital, _somebody's_ gotta take Lady DeWinter home tonight. TD: The day Lady DeWinter gets into your car, Steve, is the day El Super Gecko wins the World title. [Lord Byron takes his time as he climbs back through the ropes and pretends not to notice Creed approaching him from behind. Suddenly Byron whips around and knees Creed between the legs with crunching impact. The crowd jeers but the referee apparently misses the illegality and doesn't interrupt the match. Creed tries to weather the blow with his usual impassivity but the pain on his face is clearly visible.] SR: Heh, heh, he'll be singing a little higher in the shower this evening. [Byron doesn't give Creed a second to recover and executes a punishing DDT, laying the big man out on the canvas. He immediately goes to work on Creed's left arm, stomping on the hand and joints. Byron locks on an armbar in a kneeling position, applying further strain to Creed's powerful limb. The blueblood gets to his feet, still holding onto Creed's arm, then comes down on the limb with a crunching legdrop. Heel pop!] TD: Creed is a resilient athlete, but I don't think his arm can stand up to this kind of punishment for much longer. [Byron locks the armbar on once again, but Creed manages to stagger to his feet. Byron whips him to the ropes and catches the big man on the rebound, executing a devestating spinning neckbreaker. Heel pop! Creed is layed out on the canvas once again and Byron does not waste the opportunity to do further damage to Creed's arm, hitting it with a series of kneedrops. Then Byron lifts Creed up and holds him in position for a shoulderbreaker. The jeers of the crowd grow louder but Byron just smiles smugly and executes the move. Creeds arm falls limply by his side as he drops to the mat.] TD: I have to give Lord Byron credit here, he's staying out of the way of his opponent's power tactics and is eliminating Creed's biggest strength. SR: Trust an idiot like Creed to be in there with Byron tonight, he's gonna cost me a night with the lovely Lady DeWinter. Why couldn't he have been pitted against Otto Verhoeven? That would have ensured him a little trip to the hospital. [Lord Byron smirks as he covers Creed for the pin. Lady DeWinter can be heard from ringside shouting hook the leg! hook the leg! Byron is distracted by the commotion, giving Creed the opportunity to kick out. The arrogant blueblood slaps the mat in frustration and slides out of the ring to argue with his valet. The tiff between the two grows quite heated and they fail to notice that Creed is gradually rising to his feet in the ring. The big black man rubs his arm and shoulder, then slowly climbs through the ropes and positions himself on the apron. Byron is still oblivious to the 6'4" monster positioned directly behind him, and Creed comes flying off the apron and drills the blueblood in the back with a double axehandle. Lady DeWinter daintily steps aside as Lord Byron is sent flying flat on his face. The crowd gives Creed a big pop!] TD: Byron is going to be furious about this turn of events. He had the advantage over Creed all the way but he's allowing himself to become distracted too easily. SR: [obviously not paying any attention] Mmmm... Lady DeWinter, you will be mine. TD: You're really hopeless Steve, you know that? [Creed hauls Lord Byron up, then heaves him bodilly into the crowd barrier. The blueblood strikes the steel full force, causing the fans around the barrier to scatter. Byron is wincing in pain as Creed drags him to his feet once again, only to run him head first into the steel ring steps! Big pop from the crowd! The CEO sneaks up and stomps on Byron's chest several times, but backs off before the ref notices anything amiss.] SR: This is more like it! A bit of ruthless brawling is a breath of fresh air after all those boring armbars. [Creed drags Lord Byron up by his hair and rolls the englishman back into the ring. The big man climbs onto the second turnbuckle from outside, and comes flying off with a devestating elbow to Lord Byron's throat! Creed lifts Byron up with little effort and positions the blueblood over his shoulder. He backs into the corner then runs into center ring, slamming Byron into the mat with a crunching running powerslam! Big pop! Byron is motionless on the mat, and Creed remains atop of him for the cover. 1 - 2 - kickout by Lord Byron.] TD: Now it's time for Lord Byron to show if he can weather this storm, as did Creed earlier. The match is really not going Byron's way and he must do something drastic to escape his predicament. SR: Wouldn't it be great if Creed attacked Byron with a chainsaw? Then Byron would be sent to hospital for sure, this big ape would get DQed and lose the match, and I would be left with Lady DeWinter. A perfect scenario! TD: Steve, can you concentrate a little less on your adolescent fantasies and a little more on the match? [Creed hauls Lord Byron up in preperation for further punishment, but the Englishman has recovered sufficiently to jab his finger into Creed's eye. The big man winces in pain and staggers back clutching his face. Byron is still wobbly, but manages to compose himself enough to dropkick Creed to the mat.] TD: Amazing, with one illegal maneuver Lord Byron has managed to turn the tide of this match-up once again. The ref really needs to assert himself here and put a stop to Byron's cheating. [Lord Byron stomps Creed on his left shoulder and forearm a few times, then drags him up in preperation for a powerbomb. Lady DeWinter begins shouting from ringside - "No, no, go for the Aristoclutch!" Byron suddenly loses his temper at Lady DeWinter's constant distractions and shouts over his shoulder "Damn you, woman, I'm trying to wrestle a match here! Shut your trap or bloody well leave!" Byron executes the powerbomb leaving Creed laid out on the mat, but Lady DeWinter is shocked and offended at Byron's outburst and turns to leave ringside in a huff.] TD: Look at that expression on her face! She's a lady and doesn't deserve to be treated this way. I have a feeling Lord Byron will regret those harsh words later. SR: Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, they've split up at last! Lady DeWinter here I come! TD: Please restrain yourself Steve, you have a match to announce. [Lord Byron suddenly notices Lady DeWinter's absence at ringside and looks wildly around the arena, only to see her disappear behind the ring curtain at the top of the aisle. He forgets Creed and vaults over the top rope, rushing up the aisle yelling "No wait! Come back!" Meanwhile Creed staggers to his feet in the ring and begins to shake off the cobwebs. The ref puts on the count but Lord Byron is oblivious, absolutely stunned that Lady DeWinter has actually left him. Suddenly he remembers that he has a match to wrestle, and sprints back to the ring in order to beat the count. Just in time he dives beneath the ropes and faces Creed, who is looking quite recovered. Byron quivers with anger and points at Creed, shouting "You bastard!" as if Creed was to blame for Lady DeWinter's absence.] TD: Lord Byron is absolutely furious and he looks set to take his anger out on Creed, but really he only has himself to blame for this situation. SR: Come on Byron, get this shindig over and done with so I can pay Lady DeWinter a visit. [Byron launches himself at Creed with a fury, kicking out at his knee and smothering him with forearm and fist strikes. Creed remains cool however, and bears the blows with little discomfort, bobbing and swaying from side to side, making sure Byron's fists strike him mainly on his arms and chest where they can have little impact. Suddenly Byron winds up for a big roundhouse right, but Creed catches the blueblood's hand in his right fist. Byron is shocked and can only stare as Creed's massive left fist comes crashing into his face. The crowd goes crazy as Creed begins unloading with a series of powerful left handed blows to Byron's head.] TD: Byron didn't damage Creed's left arm anywhere near enough and now he's paying the price! [Byron is groggy from the powerful blows and can only sway unsteadilly as Creed winds up for a big left uppercut. Bang! Creed's fist hits Byron's jaw with shattering force and the blueblood is sent crashing to the mat. Huge pop!] TD: Goodnight.... [Creed hauls Byron up by the throat and then drives him into the canvas with a devestating choke slam!] TD: Farewell... [Creed lifts Byron up one last time, carrying him onto the top turnbuckle. Creed sets Byron into position, then brings him crashing down to the mat with an amazing flying powerbomb!] TD: Amen! [Creed holds the utterly motionless Lord Byron in position for the pin and the referee puts on the count: 1 - 2 - 3! The crowd explodes into a massive pop as the bell sounds. Ding! Ding! Ding!] RA: Here is your official decision. The winner of this bout, as the result of a pinfall, the man known as Creed! TD: What an astonishing encounter we have just witnessed! What a great victory for Creed, I'm sure this man has a bright future in the IIWF! SR: That's it, I'm outta here.... [Steve throws scrambles to get rid of his headset and rushes off to find Lady DeWinter. The referee attempts to raise Creed's arm but the big man shrugs him off and raises his arms by himself as the crowd continues to cheer. The CEO cannot conceal his big victory grin as he enters the ring and pats his protege on the back.] TD: Hey wait, Steve! Get back here... [sighs] This is sure to be a big disappointment for Lord Byron, who has had a rough time since he returned to the IIWF several weeks ago. I can only speculate as to the future of Lord Byron and his Lady DeWinter as a team after what we've seen this evening. [Creed and the CEO make their way backstage and the crowd pop dies down. Slowly Byron recovers and the referee attempts to help him to his feet. Frustrated, he shoves the referee aside and makes his own way out of the ring. Byron limps slowly up the aisle, all the while shaking his head and muttering to himself.] TD: Well, I'm hoping that Steve Roberts is going to rejoin me here at the broadcast position in just a moment, but before we go back up to the ring for our next match, may I just remind all our great fans about the IIWF Hotline, which is available twenty-four hours a day! The number to call is 1-900-325-IIWF, and as well as the latest backstage rumours in the Dross Report and Steve's... er, inimitable brand of journalism, we're also going to be debuting a couple of new options this week! Call the hotline to find out more! Only $12.95 per minute! That number, once again, is 1-900-325-IIWF! [Steve Roberts returns to the broadcast position, looking deflated.] TD: What's the matter, Steve? SR: The Lady DeWinter's locked herself in her locker room, and when I offered to go in and comfort her, she just wailed even louder. TD: Well, there's a surprise. SR: Shut up, Dross. TD: This next encounter looks to become one of the most intriguing matches of the evening, as the IIWF Champion Dan Kauffman squares off against Pain Inc.'s Morningstar in a non-title match. You have to wonder whether this was a wise decision by Mr. Mic -- Pain Inc. are definitely one of the best teams here in the IIWF, but how is Morningstar going to fare in a singles match, against Kauffman of all people? SR: Mr. Mic will have an ace up his sleeve, you can count on that. Kauffman's not going to have an easy time in there tonight, not by any means. TD: Well, we're about to find out. Let's go to Sparkplug for the official word. =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- NON-TITLE: -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Dan "Flash" Kauffman vs. Morningstar ------------------------------------ Writer: MP RA: This next special challenge contest is scheduled for one fall, with a thirty-minute time limit. Introducing first, hailing from Jakarta, Indonesia, and weighing in at 280lbs, accompanied to the ring by his tag team partner Hellraiser, their bodyguard Hades, and his manager Mr. Mic, one half of the tag team known as Pain Incorporated, here is... Mooooorrnnninngggstaaaaaaarr! [Morningstar enters the aisle, arms raised, to a big heel pop, and is quickly followed by Hellraiser, Hades and Mr. Mic. The entourage ignores the crowd's reaction, and after acknowledging Mad Dog Watkin's presence with a curt nod, Morningstar enters the ring, Hades and Hellraiser taking up position in his corner, while Mr. Mic gives his man some last minute encouragement from the ring apron.] RA: And his opponent... accompanied to the ring by "Desirable" Danny Dynamite and Michael "Maverick" Reyna, hailing from Hagerstown, Maryland, and weighing in at 230lbs, here is the third member of the Players' Club and current IIWF World Heavyweight Champion... Daaaaaaan Kaaauuuffman! [As Morningstar continues to wait in the ring, The video wall near the entranceway flares up, and soon shows taped footage of the interference by Kauffman, costing Pain Inc. their match on Wednesday. The clip freezes as the chair crashes over Hellraiser's back with force. Kauffman's voice is heard over the PA:] DK: The equation is simple: Pain Incorporated ran their mouths. I took action. The action defeated the words. [The image on the screen changes to a recorded message from outside the arena. Dan Kauffman stands outside the arena, his cold stare looking through the video wall, seemingly straight at Morningstar.] DK: Morningstar, you are nothing more than the first of many men to feel the new game of the one and the only World Champion. I know you've been training, and that's all well and good. But you've ran your mouths double time, and now you will pay the ultimate price. [The outdoor scene mixes through to a live shot of Morningstar in the ring, as Kauffman continues to speak.] DK: No one messes with the Player's Club and gets away easy. Morningstar, prepare yourself for a one-way ticket to Neverland... there will be no return trip. You asked for this. Did you really want this? Too bad, cause now you have it! LET'S GET IT ON! [The screen fades to black, and "Zero" kicks in over the PA as Kauffman emerges from the locker room area with Danny Dynamite and Michael Reyna in tow.] TD: Whew. Kauffman's attitude is definitely all business right now. If the introduction is anything to go by, Morningstar's in for a rough ride tonight. SR: You know, Dross, I'm staring to like Kauffman more and more. Did I say that? [Inside the ring, Kauffman and Morningstar eye each other warily, as do their numerous cornermen. The referee gives each man last minute instructions.] SR: I hope he's not asking for a nice, clean fight, because frankly, I just can't see it happening. TD: You may be right, Steve, there's just too many men at ringside here. This could turn from a match to a brawl at any stage. [The bell finally rings, and both men circle each other, before moving to lock up. Just before they do, Morningstar snaps out a side kick at Kauffman's head, which he just manages to avoid in time. Kauffman steps back a pace, and Morningstar grins, and draws his finger across his throat with a grin.] TD: Kauffman's not going to fall for these intimidation tactics. But that was a useful reminder to him of exactly what Morningstar can do. [Kauffman smirks back at Morningstar, and the two move to lock up again. This time it's Kauffman who makes the feint, ducking under Morningstar's arm. As Morningstar turns, Kauffman catches him with a stinging slap across the face. As Morningstar advances, Kauffman backs between the ropes, and the referee forces Morningstar back, as Kauffman gives him sarcastic applause.] SR: Kauffman may not be falling for it, but Morningstar is. Look at the look on his face! [Kauffman shrugs at Morningstar, and the two move to lock up again. Morningstar throws his weight against Kauffman, and pushes him back into the corner. He swings a punch round, Kauffman ducks under it, turns and catches Morningstar with another slap across the face! Big pop! Morningstar launches at Kauffman again, and again he ducks, and connects with another slap! Kauffman follows it up with a standing dropkick that rocks the bigger man, and then another! Kauffman runs to the ropes, ducks under a clothesline attempt by Morningstar, and comes back with a cross body block! The referee counts - 1 - Morningstar throws Kauffman off easily, and rolls to his corner, where Mr. Mic attempts to calm him down as Kauffman showboats to a big heel pop!] TD: Kauffman's rattling Morningstar early here. If Mr. Mic wants his man to gain any momentum at all, he's going to have to get him to control his temper. [Both men lock up again, and Morningstar uses his strength to push Kauffman into a side headlock. Kauffman quickly counters the hold by switching to a hammerlock, and Morningstar twists, trying to catch a hold of him. Frustrated, he reaches back and takes Kauffman's hair, twisting him to the mat with a snapmare, before leaping up with a huge elbowdrop that Kauffman narrowly avoids. Kauffman wastes no time, locking on an armbar as Morningstar tries to rise. Kauffman twists the pressure on as Morningstar gets back to his feet, and takes him back to the mat with an armdrag, dropping his knee across his face to keep him there.] TD: Kauffman once again in control, and... another slap to the face! Morningstar's furious! [Morningstar pushes himself back to his feet and scoops Kauffman up, slapping him into the mat hard. Kauffman manages to keep hold of the armbar, however, and Morningstar finds himself in the same position again. Morningstar pushes himself up again, slams his fingers into Kauffman's eyes, and pushes him back into the ropes, forcing his head back over the top. The referee calls for the break, and Morningstar whips Kauffman into the opposite ropes, Kauffman ducks the clothesline attempt, and as Morningstar comes back, Kauffman drops at the last minute, catching hold of the top rope and pulling it down, causing Morningstar to go sailing out of the ring! Big heel pop!] TD: And that slowed Morningstar down right away... uh oh! [As Morningstar gets groggily back to his feet, Kauffman sprints across the ring and slides, planting both feet into Morningstar's chest and sending him crashing into the guard rail!] SR: Now that's got to hurt. [Kauffman looks over to his corner and holds up a finger, saying "One more time!" Morningstar rises to his feet, just as Kauffman plancha dives over the top rope...] TD: Nooooo! Morningstar caught Kauffman as he came down, and nailed him with a hotshot across the guard rail! SR: Kauffman is out. [Michael Reyna and Danny Dynamite run around the ring to check on Kauffman, but are held back by the referee, who jumped out of the ring to try and prevent interference. While his back is turned, Hellraiser picks up a chair...] TD: Oh, come on! SR: Payback time? [Morningstar holds Kauffman's arms back, and Hellraiser slams the chair into Kauffman's midsection, and then slams it across his back as he doubles up. Morningstar rolls Kauffman back into the ring, and follows him in, making the pin. The referee is still distracted with Reyna and Dynamite, however, and unable to count... Morningstar picks Kauffman back to his feet, hooks him around the waist and flips him over into a big belly-to-belly suplex. The referee re-enters the ring, and counts Kauffman's shoulders down... 1 - 2 - kickout! Morningstar immediately lays the blame on the referee, but with nothing forthcoming, turns his attentions straight back to Kauffman. An Irish whip, followed by a spinning heel kick that takes Kauffman straight back down to the mat. Another cover - 1 - 2 - kickout again! Morningstar shakes his head in disbelief, just as a mixed pop passes through the crowd.] TD: "Sychosys" Joe Petrow? Again? SR: And he's carrying the Tag Team belts..... TD: Which must mean that the Dark Disciples aren't that far behind. SR: Elementary, my dear Watson. [Back in the ring, Morningstar picks Kauffman back to his feet, hoists him across his shoulders, and drops him into shoulderbreaker. Another cover... and another two-count. Mr. Mic slams the canvas and yells instructions. Danny Dynamite and Michael Reyna, however, have their attention distracted by the presence of Joe Petrow, who promptly hands them the IIWF World Tag Team Championship belts! With no further words, he heads back up the aisle, drawing a big mixed pop from the crowd. Reyna and Dynamite hold the belts up to the crowd, and then place them around their waists...] TD: Could someone please explain just what's going on here? SR: Simple. Petrow thinks that the Players' Club are a better team than the Disciples, and so he's giving them the belts. TD: And what do you think the Disciples will say about that? SR: It's going to be fun finding out. [Morningstar picks Kauffman up by the hair, and receives a hard punch to the midsection. Looking down, he nails Kauffman with an axehandle, and Kauffman responds with another punch! Another axehandle by Morningstar, and another punch by Kauffman! Morningstar raises his hands again, and is caught by another punch! And another! Kauffman gets to his feet, and aims a kick at Morningstar's stomach... the kick's caught...] TD: And Kauffman nails Morningstar with an enzuigiri! And that had an effect on the big man! SR: Just like these two are going to have an effect on the Player's Club! [The Dark Disciples rush to ringside, and are met by Reyna and Dynamite. Hellraiser and Hades rush in as well, but find the Disciples in no mood for comradeship, and pretty soon the entire ringside area turns into a warzone. Inside the ring, Kauffman is caught by a low blow by Morningstar, who follows through with a short clothesline that sends Kauffman reeling. Reyna nails Hades with one of the championship belts, Kane and Dynamite begin slugging it out, but Wulf joins in and the Players' Club are forced to retreat into the ring. The referee takes one look at the six superstars staging a ring invasion, and signals for the bell. Kauffman manages to send Morningstar to the outside, and Reyna and Dynamite use the tag team belts to clothesline Wulf back to the outside just as he enters the fray. Hellraiser is about to join in, but Mr. Mic calls him back, and realising that he is in there alone against the PC, Kane rolls to the outside as well. The Dark Disciples retreat back up the aisle, Kane partially holding Wulf back, but both keep their eyes firmly fixed on Reyna, Dynamite and Kauffman. Mr. Mic gathers his men as well, and they follow the Disciples example, but not before Mic manages to get a few comments in. Dynamite makes some "come on then" gestures, but Mr. Mic scowls and leads his men back out.] TD: I guess this one's going to be ruled a no contest. SR: No? Really? TD: All the signs are that there's going to be a serious war brewing between these three groups in the near future, and I imagine that the Disciples will be wanting to get their belts back pretty soon. SR: We've not seen the last of this one. And don't think that Petrow will get off lightly either. He's the one that started the whole thing! TD: Up next we've got what could well be one of the most spectacular Crusierweight matches we've seen in the IIWF for quite a while, as the current champion, the "Enigma" Tazeko Musashi, defends his title against the bizarre Harlequin Tragedy. While the ring is being cleared, let's go backstage to Larry Morton, who is with the "Enigma" as he makes his final preparations for this match: [Cut to backstage in the locker room area. The "Enigma" Takezo Musashi is putting the finishing touches on his silver and blue face paint and adjusting his boots. The sparkling Cruiserweight belt lies on a bench nearby. Larry Morton stands in the foreground.] LM: I'm back here in the locker room area with Cruiserweight Champion Takezo Musashi, moments before his match-up with Harlequin Tragedy. Enigma, what can we expect to see in this match-up? TM: This will be the first official defence of my championship, and I'm looking forward to the challenge. Once you've got the belt in your grasp you cannot afford to rest on your laurels. You've got to push yourself that little bit extra every night, knowing that everyone in the IIWF envies what you've got and will go to any lengths to take it away from you. Tonight I've got a real battle on my hands, facing the man who battled Otto Verhoeven in a steel cage and still lives to tell the tale. A feat like that takes a lot of skill, toughness and determination, and tonight, Harlequin Tragedy, you'll have the opportunity to put those talents to the test for a taste of the gold. You'll come at me with a fire in your eye and pull out all the stops, knowing that the chance of a lifetime is within your grasp. But will that be enough to triumph over the Enigma? Tragedy, I see a lot of myself in you and I like that, you're mysterious, you're courageous and an acrobat all the way. But in a few minutes' time the bell will sound and you'll be facing me across the ring. The fight will be taken to you like a full force hurricane, it will be nothing like you have ever encountered, and nothing in your experience can prepare you for it. You're a great competitor, Tragedy, but tonight, as always, it is the Enigma's time to shine. LM: That should be a great athletic encounter, but... TM: If we are permitted to wrestle unhindered it will be a great athletic encounter, something which I have come to doubt in recent weeks. LM: You mean? TM: Well, it seems the two resident clowns of the IIWF have taken a fancy to interfering in my matches of late. I guess that is part of the pressure of being a champion, but it is a shame some men are without honour. Randy Acorn, you seem unable to accept the fact that you cannot pin me. I've beaten you twice already, yet you persist in testing my patience with foolhardy sneak attacks. Acorn, I'll be frank with you. I think you are a feminine wrestler, you like to disguise yourself and dress up in women's clothes, you like to whine about how you don't get a fair shake and you brag to everybody how talented you think you are. Then when you can't seem to string a couple of wins togethor you have a little cry and threaten to quit. What's the matter with you? If you don't have the mental toughness to face adversity in the ring, you should get out of the game. Now you've beaten a washed-up American Patriot and you think you're back on top, you think you deserve a shot at my belt. Well, prove it to me, Acorn! Prove to me you have what it takes to step in the ring with a real champion, then I shall grant you a title shot. LM: I'm sure those are words the "Badboy" will take exception to, and I have a feeling they will only serve to encourage his usual behaviour. Any final words on tonight's match-up? TM: Cheshire, Acorn, I have been patient with you both for a long time, I have let you get away with several dishonourable deeds. Tragedy and I deserve the right to battle each other honourably and I cannot remain complacent any longer. If either of you interfere in my match tonight, the response will be swift and deadly. LM: Strong words from the Enigma. Let's get back to ringside. [Cut back to ringside.] =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= IIWF CRUISERWEIGHT CHAMPIONSHIP MATCH: =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= "Enigma" Takezo Musashi [c] vs. Harlequin Tragedy ------------------------------------------------- Writer: MP [Sparkplug steps into the ring, raises his chin and adjusts his bow tie for maximum effect.] RA: The following contest is set for one fall, with a thirty-minute time limit, and is for the IIWF Crusierweight Title! [Big crowd pop!] Introducing first, the challenger... weighing in at 220lbs and hailing from Sleepy Hollow, Illinois, accompanied to the ring by the Harlequins Chaos and Comedy, here is Haaaaarrrrllleeeequuiiiin Traaaaaaagggeeeddy!! [Huge crowd pop as "My Lover's Box" by Garbage starts up over the PA system, and the Harlequins enter the aisle. Tragedy is wearing his leather trenchcoat, and Comedy is carrying the now-infamous Happy Hammer, and the fans at ringside lean right over the guard-rails in the hope of receiving a bonk on the head. The arena is soon filled with loud squeaks and laughter.] SR: That squeaking noise is starting to make my head hurt. [Comedy, seeming to hear Steve's comments, walks over and pats him on the head. Before squeaking him.] SR: That's it. Tomorrow morning, I'm handing in my resignation. TD: [fighting his laughter] Oh, come on Steve, it's just a harmless joke. SR: Harmless? Come on, she could have killed me! You saw what that thing did last week! TD: Stop being so melodramatic. SR: Humph. You wouldn't be saying that if she'd displaced your toupee, would you? TD: Can we please leave my hair out of this?! [Sparkplug gamely tries to carry on with the announcing as Comedy repeatedly bonks him over the head with the Happy Hammer...] RA: And his opponent... [squeak]... weighing in at 211lbs... [squeak]... and hailing from Tokyo Japan... [squeak]... here is the current IIWF Crusierweight Champion... "The Enigma" Taaaaazzeeeekoooooo Musaaasshiiiiii! [squeaksqueaksqueak...] [Huge pop as the mystical music starts up over the PA system, and "The Enigma" himself appears in the aisle, the Cruiserweight title strapped around his waist. He race down to the ring, slapping the fans hands, and vaults onto the ring apron and to the top rope, before somersaulting into the ring. Huge crowd pop] TD: And you can bet we'll be seeing more moves like that tonight! SR: As long as we see some blood as well. Preferably from both of them. [The bell rings, and the two competitors look each other up and down, before flying straight into a lockup. Armwringer by the Enigma, neatly countered by a fireman's carry takedown by Tragedy, but the Enigma lands on his feet and hits the ropes running. Tragedy lowers his head and is leapfrogged by the Enigma, who comes back with a clothesline, but the Harlequin slides between his legs! The Enigma turns back, and is caught by an armdrag, and the Enigma pushes himself to his feet, lifting Tragedy up and over with a fireman's carry! And this time it's Tragedy's turn to land on his feet!] TD: Incredible athleticism shown there by both competitors! This one is going to go right to the wire! SR: What we need is a really big guy, like Verhoeven or the Sandman in there to liven things up a little. TD: What we need is to see a REAL wrestling match. SR: Stuff wrestling. I want blood. [Tragedy and the Enigma circle each other, slightly more warily this time. Tragedy ducks low, trying to catch the Enigma's leg, but the Enigma jumps back out of his reach. Both men lock up again, and this time Tragedy gets the initial advantage with a side headlock. He switches into a waistlock, before taking the Enigma to the mat with a single-leg trip. Tragedy tries to lock on a drop toehold, but the Enigma twists over, and kicks him off. Both men spring to their feet, but the Enigma is marginally quicker, and he catches Tragedy with a dropkick that knocks him into the ropes. As the Harlequin staggers back, the Enigma catches him with a armdrag, and rolls over into an armbar. The Harlequin flips back to his feet, and reverses the hold with an armwringer, and once again takes the Enigma to the mat with a leg trip, and this time he drops an elbowdrop across the knee, and grapevines the leg.] TD: This is just what the Enigma didn't want. Tragedy is a better mat worker than him, and he's trying to nullify any speed advantage the Enigma has early. SR: In other words, he's not letting him jump around like he wants to. TD: You could put it that way, yes. [The Enigma tries to twist out of the grapevine, but Tragedy has it locked on tight. Instead, the Enigma is forced to roll Tragedy over slightly, and stomp down with his free leg across the Harlequin's jaw. Tragedy breaks the hold quick smart, and the Enigma is quickly back to his feet. A series of chops to the stunned Harlequin's midsection, and he Irish whips him into the ropes before nailing a stinging double-chop that can be heard around the area. A cover - 1 - kickout by Tragedy. Comedy bonks Chaos over the head on the outside.] TD: And the champion regains control somewhat. It doesn't look like his leg is that badly affected by those holds. SR: Unfortunately. [The Enigma picks Tragedy back to his feet, and sends him into the ropes with another Irish Whip. He drops his head and elevates the Harlequin with a backdrop, but Tragedy hooks his arm as he flies over and catches the Enigma in a backslide! 1 - 2 - kickout by the Enigma! The Enigma gets straight back to his feet, and turns around, straight into a small package! 1 - 2 - the Enigma reverses it - 1 - kickout by Tragedy! Tragedy gets to his feet and hits the ropes running, he leapfrogs on the rebound, and gets caught low by a dropkick attempt from Musashi! A collective gasp goes up from the crowd, and even Comedy and Chaos look worried.] SR: [strangled voice] Oh... my... TD: Um. [Tragedy rolls over on the floor, but the referee waves to carry on, and the Enigma makes the cover - 1 - 2 - ] TD: Kickout by Tragedy, but he looks badly winded. SR: I wonder if Melody could teach him to sing castrato? TD: Steve, please! [The Enigma pulls Tragedy to his feet, switches behind him, and hits him with a high elevation back suplex, and immediately follows up with a leg drop across the neck. Another cover - 1 - 2 - kickout again! The Enigma picks Tragedy up, and whips him into the ropes, and follows through with a high cross body block! 1 - 2 - kickout by Tragedy! The Enigma steps over to the corner, and springs to the top rope.] TD: This may be a mistake. Tragedy may have recovered enough to spot this... he has! [The Enigma leaps off the top rope with another cross body, but Tragedy rolls under it and lands in the corner. The Enigma rolls as he lands as well, however, and follows Tragedy up in the corner, dragging him back out in a rolling cradle! 1 - 2 - kickout! Comedy hits the side of the ring with the Happy Hammer, and cheers her man on.] SR: I'm telling you, that thing should be banned. TD: Come on, Steve, the kids love it! SR: The kids should be banned as well. And that includes Chaos. [The Enigma Irish whips Tragedy into the opposite corner, and as he comes back out, nails him with a spinning leg lariat. The Enigma runs to the ropes again, leaps up and connects hard with a somersault splash! He hooks the leg - 1 - 2 - kickout by Tragedy again! The Enigma wastes no time, whipping the Harlequin into the ropes. He tries a lariat, and Tragedy catches his arm and curls his body around into a crucifix! 1 - 2 - ] TD: ...kickout! But so close! Both men were really flying when Tragedy caught that crucifix, and the move seems to have stunned them both! [Both men push up to their feet, the Enigma first, and he tries a kick to the stomach. Tragedy catches it, and the Enigma launches into an enzuigiri which Tragedy ducks, but the Enigma manages to land back on his feet! Big pop! Tragedy ducks a spin kick attempt, catches the Enigma in a full nelson, and flips him over in a perfectly-bridged Dragon Suplex! Another big pop! The referee counts - 1 - 2 - kickout!] TD: Quick thinking by Tragedy there, and it's earned him a breather. SR: Nope, he's going straight back at him! [Tragedy whips the Enigma into the ropes, and connects with a beautiful flying elbowsmash on the rebound! Another cover! 1 - 2 - kickout again by the champion! Tragedy picks the Enigma up again, twists his head round over his shoulder, and drops him to the mat with a reverse neckbreaker! Tragedy quickly goes to the leg again, this time with a kneebreaker, and then into a figure-four!] TD: The referee's asking for the submission, but the Enigma's got more left than that. SR: But he's in the centre of the ring. Nowhere to go. [There's a big heel pop as Cheshire appears at the head of the aisle, juggling four balloons. He giggles maniacally, and throws one to a kid in the crowd, and it pops just before it reaches him, spraying glitter across the crowd. Cheshire giggles even louder, and starts to make his way down to ringside.] TD: Great. This is all we need. SR: Hey! I like this guy! He's funny! Even more so when Larry Morton's in the area! [The Enigma is still fighting Tragedy's figure-4 in the ring, and Comedy and Chaos notice Cheshire, who is now trying to sneak past them. Comedy and Chaos step in front of Cheshire, Comedy holding up the Happy Hammer, and Cheshire puts his finger to his lips, before juggling the remaining three balloons. He throws the first two into the air, where they burst, showering the crowd in more glitter, and he tosses the third in the Harlequin's direction, where it explodes, spraying them with a fine brown dust. Cheshire giggles as both Harlequins fall to the floor, rubbing their eyes and sneezing uncontrollably, and he picks up the Happy Hammer...] TD: What was that stuff? Hold on a second, can you smell pepper? Oh no... [Cheshire runs across to the ring apron, and rolls into the ring, striking the Enigma with the Happy Hammer. The referee immediately signals for the bell, and Tragedy lets go of the figure-four. Surprisingly, the Enigma doesn't seem hurt by the Happy Hammer. Cheshire frowns, and presses the button on the bottom of the Happy Hammer, and swings at Tragedy, who is stalking towards him. There's a loud squeak, but other than that, nothing. On the outside, Chaos and Comedy appear to be recovering. Cheshire drops the Hammer, shrugs, rolls out of the ring and runs as fast as he can back up the aisle, quickly followed by the Harlequins.] RA: Here is your winner as a result of a disqualification, "The Enigma" Tazeko Musashi! TD: And you can bet that the Harlequins won't be overly pleased by that decision. Cheshire's interference ruined their chance of taking the Crusierweight title. In just a few moments the Intercontinental Championship will be on the line, as Steve "the Fury" Kowalski defends against both former champion "Spotlight" Billy Shakespeare and top contender Marty Warnett in a Triangle Match. Let's get comments from the champion now: [Cut to footage subtitled, "Earlier this week." Yelling can be heard, just around the corner of IIWF promotions office. An enterprising young intern, Alex Wolf, follows the noise with his handheld camera. He makes his way to the source of the disturbance. The scene is Steve "The Fury" Kowalski berating one of the office staff. The staffer is wet and stained from the coffee that was thrown on him by the New Jeresy Nightmare. Alex sets his camera up in time to catch the Intercontinental Champion apply a masterful "wedgie" on the man. The gentleman promptly runs off.] SK: If ya gimme y coffee next time, I'll knock your in the dirt! [Turning to the intern] What the hell do ya want? A thumb to the eye? AW: Alex Wolf, IIWF intern. I would like to ask you a few questions... if it's all right with you. It really could get me that assistant job with Becky LaRue. SK: [Smiling] You're a real go getter, huh? Maybe I will give ya an interview, Wolfie. A job with Becky might clear up that acne. Okay, pencil-neck, start ya voice box! AW: Uh... great. First off, are you mad that Billy Sexton copped out of the IIWF? You're not able to get revenge now. SK: Sexton already fell victim to the SKULLPUMP. He prob'ly wanted to do the "hit 'n run" and take off, so I wouldn't 'm up again! I don't think he'll be back anytime soon. AW: Why did you interfere in the Mad Dog Watkins/Ronnie Paris match? Are you forming an alliance with Mad Dog? People have been speculating that the two of you would get together and dominate. Sk: First off, bedwetter, I wanted to watch Ronnie Paris. Secondly, I wanted to clock his sorry glass ass jaw to the mat for darin' to mention my name in his interview the other day. I didn't even realize Watkins was wrestlin' him. AW: Watkins was standing right there. You walked up to a match, hit Ronnie Paris, and didn't see Mad Dog Watkins roll him up for the pin?! SK: Nope. AW: Mad Dog Watkins. He used to have classic battles with your father, Bruno the Sandman! SK: I mighta had somethin' in my eye. Who knows. And hey, if I help the senior citizens on my time, tough ! Case closed, next question. AW: Fine. What about your upcoming triangle match with "Spotlight" and the "Party Animal"? By your own words youv'e said Warnett is tough. SK: Yup. He's tougher than prison riot, but he's to busy trying to wrestle. While he's thinkin' how to put me in a hammerlock, I've already got'm hoisted for a tiger driver. He's decidin' wether to use a single leg takedown or a victory roll. Me, I can't decide which rib to break first! I'm gonna run his ass to the crowd. Maybe they'll get a rise out o' his broken body. AW: What about Billy Shakespeare? He's the former champion. Surely, between him and Warnett, you are the one at a disadvantage. SK: [Sparking up a cigar] Kid, I haven't been banned in three states for nothin'! I am gonna be the lawnmower man and they'll be my in' lawn! [Blowing smoke in Alex's face] _And_ if ya still not sold on the Fury, maybe be you need some convincin'. [Kowalski proceeds to stuff Alex into the nearest wastepaper basket. The young man is upside down, as the Fury strolls away.] AW: [With a muffled voice, from inside the basket] I suppose that went well. I may get that job yet. [Cut back to the announcers' table. Steve Roberts sniggers.] TD: That wasn't funny, Steve. Kowalski is in need of a major attitude adjustment, and his two opponents tonight are more than capable of delivering. =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- IIWF INTERCONTINENTAL CHAMPIONSHIP TRIANGLE MATCH: -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Steve "the Fury" Kowalski [c] vs. Billy Shakespeare vs. Marty Warnett ---------------------------------------------------------------------- Writer: NN TD: Up next, we've got a crazy triangle match; the winner will be the IIWF Intercontinental Champion. SR: Yeah, and I'll be honest, Dross... TD: Great. SR: Kowalski got screwed into this match. What's up with the champ having to face two at once for the title? The odds are against you no matter what... TD: Let's take you back a couple of weeks, and show you just _why_ Kowalski got "screwed into" this triangle IC title defense... [Cut to footage of Steve Kowalski vs. Marty Warnett, on IIWF Saturday Night, subtitled "4 January 1997", complete with the original commentary from Tim Dross and Steve Roberts: Warnett quickly jumps through the ropes to the floor. He sets Kowalski up where he wants him and performs a DDT out on the floor. Kowalski is laid out face first, in front of some fans who seem to enjoy heckling him. A can of soda comes flying at him to a huge crowd pop. Security quickly arrives on the scene and escorts the rambunctious fan out of ringside area. In the meantime, Warnett heads to the top rope. As Kowalski begins to stir, the chants of "MAR - TY! MAR - TY!" echo throughout the IIWF Coliseum. When the bewildered champion gets back to his feet, Warnett sends himself hurtling through the air at Kowalski, executing a flying Frankensteiner! Massive crowd pop!] TD: What a spectacular move by Marty Warnett! A Frankensteiner from the top rope, and it looks like he's got the match won now, all he has to do is throw Kowalski back in and cover him! [Both men are laid out on their backs, however, and the referee begins his count - 1 - 2 - 3 - suddenly, a great arousal from the crowd interrupts him.] SR: What the hell?! [Seizing the opportunity, "Painbringer" Billy Sexton takes off on a dead run for the Intercontinental belt. He grabs it, and proceeds to smash the injured combatants, Kowalski and Warnett, over the back of the head with it. Massive heel pop! Cut back to the announcers.] TD: That match was ruled a no contest, due to the interference of Billy Sexton, but things weren't over... [Cut to more footage from Saturday Night, subtitled "Later". After verbally berating Kowalski and spitting on the back of Warnett, the pretenders to "his" title, Sexton takes off up the aisle, with the Intercontinental Championship in hand. Billy Sexton reaches the end of the aisle, looking back at the ring to make sure that his two victims aren't coming after him. Suddenly, the crowd jumps out its seat with a huge pop. Sexton thinks it is for him and hoists the belt high. He turns back toward the locker room just in time to see Billy Shakespeare is nose to nose with him! Pop!] TD: Billy Shakespeare is back to stake his claim to the Intercontinental Championship! [Shakespeare goes crazy and rocks Sexton with a right hand. The Painbringer hits the floor, and Shakespeare jumps on top of him, nailing him with shots from every direction. Shakespeare reaches out and grabs the belt, which had flown out of Sexton's grasp, and swats him across the face with it, much to the delight of the crowd, which pops again. Suddenly, security rushes out of the back. Again cut to the announcers.] SR: Pukespeare tried to escape with the belt, Dross, but was eventually attacked by Steve Kowalski, who ended up walking out with it that night. TD: Two weeks later, those three men, Warnett, Shakespeare, and the champ, will face off in a moment, for the IIWF Intercontinental Championship! SR: I don't know about this, Dross. What if Shakespeare and Warnett team up on our Fury? TD: One can only hope... let's get to the ring, for the Intercontinental Title match! RA: This matchup is a special triangle match, sanctioned by the IIWF for its Intercontinental Championship! [Big crowd pop.] Introducing, the first participant... [Marty Warnett appears in the aisle as "Cold Gin" starts up. He is wearing red trunks and boots, and high fiving fans along the way. He looks quite determined, focusing on the ring.] RA: ...from Cardiff, Wales, the United Kingdom... at 245 pounds, making his way down the aisle... here is Marty Warnett! [Warnett steps through the ropes and bounces off them, to get a feel for the ring. He jumps up to a turnbuckle and receives a crowd pop from the female contingent. He begins shuffling his feet in anxiety, and focuses on the aisle.] TD: There's the man who got robbed of his fair shot two weeks ago, when Billy Sexton screwed things up. SR: Warnett's the big underdog here. I don't think he'll ever taste IIWF gold, Dross. He's just too much of a punk. TD: But what about Kauffman... you said he was a punk... SR: What _about_ Kauffman? ["Little Willie" by The Sweet plays. The fans scream and jump to their feet, awaiting the arrival of Billy Shakespeare.] RA: Participant number two hails from Ashland, Oregon, [pop at the mention of Oregon] and weighs 230 pounds. He's a former IIWF Cruiserweight and Intercontinental Champion... ladies and gentlemen, please welcome Billy Shakespeare!!! [The crowd goes crazy at the mention of his name, and the chant of "Bil - ly, Bil - ly" starts. Shakespeare puts one foot through the curtain, and the crowd yells louder, trying to coax him out. Shakespeare soon explodes through the curtain, with a gigantic grin on his face. He is followed out by Brody Thunder. Shakespeare is wearing his white tights with the gold Comedy/Tragedy mask on the leg. He takes his time on the way to the ring, high fiving a few fans and conversing with Brody.] TD: An outstanding ovation for the fan favorite here, Billy Shakespeare, who hails from right down the road, Ashland, Oregon... SR: Yeah, home crowd advantage, big deal. [Billy hits the ring and exchanges hellos with Warnett, then has a few words with Sparkplug Lee, who smiles and laughs at Billy's antics. From the aisle, Lady DeWinter appears and heads to ringside.] SR: What a screw off. Why doesn't he (Billy) just worry about wrestling? TD: Lady DeWinter has shown up for this match... it appears that Lord Byron has left immediately after his match with Creed. SR: I'd run from Creed, too. RA: And their opponents... [The jeering starts up early.] ...from Newark, New Jersey... [Steve Kowalski shows up in the aisle, hoisting his IIWF Intercontinental Championship high for all to see. "Don't Fear the Reaper" starts over the PA, and the heel pop is tremendous.] RA: ... at 268 pounds, here is your IIWF Intercontinental Champion... Steve "The Fury" Kowalski!!! [Another heel pop for Kowalski, who jogs to the ring, and hands his title to the referee, who shows it to the crowd and camera. Both Warnett and Shakespeare look at it in determination. As Kowalski begins to remove his jacket, Shakespeare looks at Warnett and they both nod in agreement. Suddenly, they rush in and put the attack on Kowalski from behind.] SR: What is this garbage? Cheap shot artists... TD: I think it's great. For once Kowalski receives the jump, rather than dishing it out. Go get `em boys. SR: How about some neutrality for the play-by-play man? TD: Um... no thanks, I'd rather have a Coke. Thanks, Steve. [Dross laughs at Roberts, who just growls in anger. In the ring, Warnett and Shakespeare work over Kowalski, who fires right back with rights and lefts. The bell sounds. He is able to overcome both men, and takes Shakespeare off his feet with a lariat. He covers - 1 - 2 - kickout. Kowalski gets up and attacks Warnett next, sending him out to the floor by pitching him over the top rope.] TD: Apparently the referee considering Shakespeare and Kowalski to be the legal men, as he counted a nearfall on Billy. SR: Shouldn't Kowalski have the right to start? It's his title. [Shakespeare gets back to his feet, but is met by a fist of Kowalski's. Steve whips Shakespeare to the ropes, but it is reversed by Billy. Kowalski comes off and is taken down by a drop toe hold. Shakespeare quickly slides up to the headlock, and holds on. Warnett gets back to the apron, shaking his head in disgust.] SR: Hey look, Walnut's awake after all! TD: Warnett, that is, is in a dangerous situation. In a match of this sort, you cannot win unless you get in the ring. If Shakespeare or Kowalski can get a quick fall, Warnett will be standing on the outside, not even getting the opportunity to wrestle for this title. [Shakespeare cinches up on the headlock, but the champ powers to his feet and reverses it, into an arm bar. Shakespeare is quick to reverse though, into a hammerlock. Kowalski looks for an escape, but cannot find one. He swings an elbow at Billy, who ducks. Kowalski spins all the way around, and Shakespeare tries to kick him in the midsection, but the champ blocks it. Billy swings up his other foot for an enzuigiri - but Kowalski ducks, and Shakespeare comes crashing to the mat.] TD: Ouch! Shakespeare missed with that kick, and he's in trouble right as we speak. SR: Good. I hate him, you know. TD: No, really? [Kowalski smiles at his handy work, and snaps Shakespeare up by the hair. He plants him with a body slam, and covers - 1 - kickout. Kowalski complains about a slow count.] TD: What's the problem Steve? You only got one. SR: Really, really slow count. TD: I guess. [The champ scoops up Shakespeare and pummels him with a right hand. He then proceeds to swing Billy to the ropes. On the rebound, Warnett reaches out and touches Billy's back. Shakespeare gets caught off the ropes by a huge spinning backbreaker by Kowalski, who quickly hooks a leg. The referee will not count, however, much to the chagrin of Kowalski, because Shakespeare isn't kicking out. Warnett, apparently the legal man, enters the fray and nails Kowalski with an elbow to the back of the head.] SR: Oh, come on ref! There's no way he tagged out. That should have been 1 - 2 - 3, goodnight "Spotlight". TD: It saved the match for Warnett --- and Shakespeare --- though, and it looks as if Warnett has used the element of surprise to gain an advantage. [Warnett rocks Kowalski with a drop kick and covers - 1 - 2 - kickout. Warnett ducks underneath and hooks the champ up with an arm drag. Shakespeare finally leaves the ring, leaping to the floor to discuss some strategy with Thunder. Warnett holds onto the armbar, but Kowalski finally reaches the ropes. The ref calls for a clean break, but Kowalski, grabs Warnett by the trunks and flips him through the ropes to the floor. Kowalski is quick to follow him out, and he throws young Marty into the steel guard rail.] SR: Nice job, Fury. Look, Dross. Two enemies at once, and he's prevailing. TD: He cheated. Marty granted him a good, clean break, and Kowalski took it upon himself to take advantage of that! SR: Hey, if Marty's really that stupid... [The referee isn't even bother to count. He's on the floor making idle threats of disqualification. Kowalski tells him to, "shut up and move away from that pole." The Fury picks up Marty by the hair and winds up to swing him into the steel post, but Warnett reverses it and the champ's right shoulder hits steel! Pop!] SR: Come on, ref... a foreign object! TD: How can a part of the ring be foreign? SR: Think about it. If I picked up the steel steps right now, walked into the ring, and started clocking everyone in sight, what would happen? TD: My guess is that you'd have the shot blocked and Shakespeare would clear you out of the arena. SR: No, I'd be disqualified. TD: Well, that too... but I still think Billy would take you out for a beating. [Shakespeare rushes over and says something to Marty, who nods in agreement. Warnett locks up a double chicken wing, and Shakespeare winds up for a right haymaker. At the last second, Kowalski ducks, but Shakespeare holds back on the punch. Kowalski turns around and looks at the floor, expecting to see Marty laid out, but what he does see is a huge DDT from young Marty! Huge pop!] SR: This is a disaster, Dross. Kowalski's having to fight a handicap match, not a triangle match. TD: Gee, dang. [Kowalski gets pitched back into the ring by Warnett. Warnett heads to the top rope and measures up the champ. Shakespeare, knowing that the end could be near, hops up on the apron, just in case he needs to make a save. As Kowalski stumbles to his feet, Warnett takes off for a missile drop kick. The champion ducks, though, and the nearby ref gets nailed in the face, knocking him to the canvas.] SR: He's out! He's out! Let the party begin! TD: This is a disaster for Warnett and Shakespeare. They cannot win the match without a referee. If that man comes to, will he disqualify Warnett? Surely not... I wouldn't hope. SR: He hit the referee, Dross. Whether intentional or not, it is still explicitly a rule violation, subject to disqualification. TD: You seem to be an expert on the rules. SR: No, just on disqualifications. [On the outside, Brody Thunder is distracted by an attractive female who looks surprisingly familiar. She lures him over until he is standing just in front of the railings where she is seated. She stands, and suddenly sprays a can of mace into his eyes. Big heel pop! Stud Stetson rolls from underneath the ring and clotheslines Thunder with his patented aluminum baseball bat. The female is then revealed to be his valet, Lace. Stetson then wastes no time in entering the ring and ramming his bat into Shakespeare's midsection. Warnett comes in to save Shakespeare but receives a mighty swing of the bat into the chest for his troubles. Warnett tumbles from the ring. Stetson then motions at Kowalski letting him know to stay clear away.] SR: This is great! What a return for Stud Stetson! TD: I had no idea Stetson's suspension had been lifted! I thought he was still out of action -- this is awful! We need another official down here! [After clobbering Shakespeare over the head with his baseball bat, Stetson grabs two steel chairs from by the timekeeper's table, throwing them into the ring. He places Shakespeare on top of one chair and puts another chair on top of him. Stetson then climbs the ropes and stands on the top turnbuckles. Kowalski leans against the opposite corner, apparently not bothered at what is going on.] TD: No! Somebody has to stop Stetson! [Warnett struggles to his feet and climbs to the apron, trying to reach Stetson in time, but the "Superstar" jumps off the top to deliver a stomp onto the top folded chair, crushing Shakespeare.] TD: This is awful! SR: Did you hear that crack? Shakespeare just got squished like a bug! [Stetson spits on Shakespeare and motions for Lace to grab the Superstar title that was left at ringside. Stetson walks to the ropes, and speaks into a nearby camera: "Nobody messes with the Superstar World Champion! Watch your back, because here comes a Superstar Attack!" Stetson poses for the camera, but there is a huge pop as Warnett storms into the ring behind Stetson having grabbed the Superstar belt from Lace. He clobbers Stetson over the back of the head with the phony belt, and Stetson tumbles from the ring. Huge pop as Warnett throws the belt down onto Stetson in disgust.] TD: Marty Warnett cleans house! But -- no! From behind! SR: Get him, Steve! [Kowalski nails Warnett from behind with a clothesline. Warnett hits the mat, but pops right back up and returns fire. Warnett is able to rock him with a left hook, and then knocks him off his feet with a standing drop kick.] TD: He sure climbed the ladder with that one! SR: Why would Warnett want to try to match him punch for punch? He's an idiot! [Warnett scoops up the champion and gives him a side backbreaker. There is no referee, so he does not cover, instead choosing to kick Kowalski out under the bottom rope. Warnett then heads to attend to Billy on the outside. Stud Stetson has a few choice words for Marty, and then he leaves the area, along with Lace. Warnett helps the EMT unit with getting Shakespeare on the stretcher, and they roll him down the aisle. Billy receives a standing ovation on the way out.] TD: A terrible thing that happened tonight, fans. Billy Shakespeare, as you see, being carted off on a stretcher. That's awful, President Spreadbury, if you're listening, I hope Stud Stetson's suspension lasts for a long, long, long time. SR: He just did the world a great service, Dross. Shakespeare's been asking for it for a long time now. Stetson just took it upon himself to dish out a beating. TD: That's pretty cold. SR: Well, it is the middle of January. [Steve Kowalski has recovered, and is back in the ring celebrating his... escape with the title. The unconscious referee has been dragged out of the ring by another official, who then heads to speak with Sparkplug Lee.] TD: Probably a disqualification, either for Stetson's interference or maybe for that missile drop kick which hit nothing but the ref's jaw? RA: Ladies and gentlemen, "Spotlight" Billy Shakespeare is unable to continue in this matchup. The referee's official decision is that this matchup _WILL_ continue... a one-on-one matchup between Marty Warnett and Steve Kowalski!!! [Huge crowd pop!] SR: NO! That's pathetic, how can they??? [Kowalski becomes outraged by the decision and attacks Warnett on the floor. He rams his head into the apron and sets up for a piledriver. However, he cannot perform it, and Warnett is able to counter by backdropping him on the floor. The new referee jumps into the ring and instructs the action to come to him. Marty obliges, pitching Kowalski back in by the trunks. He sets up on the apron, awaiting Kowalski's recovery. When Kowalski gets back to his feet, Warnett slingshots himself over the top and lands a clothesline. He covers - 1 - 2 - kickout. Warnett gets behind Kowalski and applies an abdominal stretch.] TD: Steve Kowalski could be in big time trouble here... with Warnett making a charge. SR: I doubt it. One two-count and he's in trouble? I think not. [Warnett holds onto the abdominal stretch, then releases it and gets a waistlock. Kowalski makes a standing switch, and runs Warnett into the turnbuckle. Warnett staggers back, and Kowalski catches him with a Hotshot. He covers - 1 - 2 - kickout! Kowalski looks to the crowd and gives the sign for the Skullpump.] TD: If he hits this, it will be all over... I've never seen anyone stand up, let alone kickout after it. SR: A double underhook piledriver, very deadly, and Marty's about to find out! [Kowalski grins and grabs Warnett, positioning him for the finisher. Marty, however, is struggling to avoid his head from dropping down, and is able to headbutt Kowalski in the gut area, doubling him over. Warnett bounces to the ropes and leaps onto Kowalski's shoulders, executing a victory roll - 1 - 2 - kickout!] TD: So close for Warnett... he almost won the title. [Kowalski is able to get a thumb into Warnett's eye, stunning him. The champ picks Warnett up and flings him across the ring in a fallaway slam. Cover - 1 - 2 - kickout. Kowalski shakes his head in disgust, and heads toward Marty's legs...] SR: Slap it on, slap it on! [The champion, Kowalski, smiles as he locks Marty's legs in a Texas Cloverleaf. Marty fights, but Kowalski takes the last step over and sits back. The crowd watches in horror as Warnett screams in pain. The champ yells something to the effect of, "you ain't sayin' much now!" Soon, the crowd starts the chant of, "Mar - ty! Mar - ty!" Warnett begins struggling toward the ropes as Kowalski begins to panic.] TD: He's going to escape! I don't believe it! SR: Sit back Steve, come on! [Warnett inches his way closer and closer, eventually grabbing the rope. Kowalski holds on the hold as long as he can, and then lets him go, slapping the mat in disgust. The referee tends to Warnett, to see if he can continue, and Kowalski jumps to the floor.] TD: Is he walking out? SR: Why not?! A countout is just as good as a win here. TD: He's not leaving... [Kowalski asks Sparkplug Lee "politely" to leave his chair. Lee, out of fear, does, and the champion heads into the ring with it in tow. The referee turns around just in time to see Kowalski entering with it.] SR: Flatten it on the ref if you have to... two knocked out refs in one match! TD: Can they fine you for saying things like that? They should be able to. [The referee tries to take the chair from Kowalski, who struggles to keep it. Marty gets some recovery time, and gets back to his feet. Kowalski throws the ref backward and pulls the chair up to the sky, looking for Warnett. He does not see Marty in time to avoid his dropkick. The kick nails the chair, which sends it flying into the nose of Kowalski! The champion slumps to the mat to a huge crowd pop!] SR: NO! NO! NO! NO! TD: Yes! Yes! Yes! [Warnett falls on top of Kowalski, and the referee makes a count which seems to last forever - 1 - 2 - 3! Ding! Ding! Ding!] SR: NO! RA: The winner of the match... and _NEW_ IIWF Intercontinental Champion... Marty Warnett! TD: What a match! What an effort! What a _champion_... Marty wins his first title here in the IIWF! SR: It was a screwjob, Dross. The ref in the ring, and the ref unconscious... and they should have counted it out... and when Pukespeare... I can't believe this! He shouldn't have won! [Warnett clutches the gleaming belt and gives it a kiss. He leaves the ring to the chants of "Mar - ty! Mar - ty!" once more. He high fives fans, and catches a smile and wink from Lady DeWinter after the match. Marty doesn't seem to be fazed, and just heads up the aisle, revelling in his glory.] TD: We've got a new champ... this is great! SR: This sucks. TD: What a match, folks. And another incredible encounter awaits us as we head straight into tonight's main event. Last week, Tiger Claw scored a tainted pinfall victory over the "Lone Wolf" Brody Thunder when Casey "Blackheart" James waffled Thunder over the head with his illegally-possessed IIWF World Heavyweight belt. Thunder has apparently called in the cavalry, and has some kind of surprise in store for the Syndicate that will even the score in tonight's rematch. SR: And you are _not_ going to believe Thunder's surprise, Dross! TD: Do you really know what Thunder has planned, Steve? SR: Of course. TD: I'm not convinced. Okay, fans. Without further ado, let's get back up to the ring for tonight's main event! =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- "Lone Wolf" Brody Thunder vs. Tiger Claw -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Writer: DS [Sparkplug Lee steps into the ring and raises his microphone.] RA: Ladies and gentlemen, it's time for tonight's main event! [Big pop!] The following contest is scheduled for one fall. Introducing first, coming down the aisle, accompanied by Brian Lau and representing the Syndicate, hailing from Thailand and weighing in at 220lbs, here is... Tiger Claw! [Big heel pop as the arena lights dim and the familiar chaotic Thai boxing music blares over the PA. A single spotlight picks out the form of Brian Lau striding confidently down the aisle ahead of Tiger Claw, who wears his usual wrestling attire, as well as a yellow headband. Lau arrogantly jaws at the crowd as the two men make their way to the ring, but Claw simply walks with focused determination, climbs the ringsteps, and steps through the ropes. He begins his pre-match ritual of katas before removing his yellow headband and loosening up his muscles, shaking his braids as he does so.] TD: Tiger Claw is one of the most determined and focused individuals in the IIWF, Steve, week in and week out. SR: That's why he's the greatest Intercontinental Champion the IIWF has ever seen, Dross. [Brian Lau climbs to the apron and begins to talk to Claw, who appears to be paying very little attention. He turns his back on his manager, continuing to loosen up. Lau impatiently taps his charge on the shoulder, and Claw turns with an annoyed look on his face. He listens to his manager's words, and Lau then hops back to the arena floor.] TD: Is it just me, Steve, or does Tiger Claw look increasingly impatient with Brian Lau these days? SR: It's not just you, Dross. But Tiger Claw had better remember that he wouldn't be the greatest Intercontinental Champion of all time if he hadn't had Lau's managerial expertise behind him. TD: I'm not sure that's true, Steve. Whether you approve of his tactics or not, Claw is a tremendous athlete more than capable of standing or falling on his own merits. RA: And introducing his opponent... [The theme from "High Plains Drifter" competes with Sparkplug over the PA] Hailing from the town too tough to die, Tombstone, Arizona, and weighing in at 267lbs, here is the "Lone Wolf" Brody Thunder! [The red and black thunder emblem is emblazoned in laser light on the aisle and over the crowd as all eyes turn towards the entranceway.] TD: This is it, Steve. We're going to find out what Thunder's surprise is! [A few more moments pass, and then Thunder steps out into the aisle to a surprisingly positive crowd reaction. He wears a black leather vest with his red lightning bolt emblem on it, and his eyes are not visible under the brim of his black cowboy hat. He walks down the aisle slowly, ignoring the clamouring fans, and fixing his gaze on the ring.] TD: Where is his surprise, Steve? SR: Er... TD: Thunder doesn't have a surprise, does he? Whatever plan he had, it's fallen through! SR: No way, Dross. Thunder will pull the rabbit out of the hat, just you wait. TD: Thunder may be a fantastic wrestler, but he's no magician, Steve. If he's out here alone, he may well find himself coming up short against Claw tonight. [Thunder climbs the ringsteps and slowly removes his hat, hanging it on the ringpost. He removes his leather vest, and steps into the squared circle, his eyes focused on Tiger Claw at all times. Both men approach one another in the centre of the mat, and the referee signals for the bell. Ding! Ding! Ding! Thunder and Claw lock up collar and elbow, and immediately Claw steps behind Thunder with one foot, and sweeps out one of Thunder's legs, knocking him off-balance. Claw nails Thunder with another kick, knocking him off his feet. Thunder is quickly back to his feet, but is pummelled by a volley of kicks to the misection from Claw. Thunder is beaten backwards into the ropes, and Claw finishes his volley with a reverse spinning kick which catches Thunder flush under the jaw. Thunder topples backwards over the top rope to the floor. Heel pop!] TD: Wow! What a kick from Tiger Claw! His feet are possibly his deadliest weapon, Steve. SR: No doubt, Dross. Look at Lau -- he's yelling out for Claw to stay in the ring, but Claw's taking it to Thunder on the outside... TD: Plancha dive over the top rope onto Thunder! Wow! What impact! [Big pop as Claw throws himself over the ropes and hits the recovering Thunder. The two men lie in a heap on the floor outside the ring. Claw is to his feet first, and as he continues to drive kicks into Thunder's rib area, Lau walks up behind Claw and begins yelling at him about taking unnecessary risks. Claw picks Thunder up and flashes Lau an angry look as he rolls Brody back into the ring. Lau delays Claw's reentry with a quick tongue-lashing about authority, and when Claw climbs back onto the ring apron, he is met with a shoulderblock to the midsection from Thunder, knocking him back to the outside. Claw clatters into the steel railings, and Lau is beside himself. He yells at Claw, who picks himself up. Thunder leans up against the turnbuckles in the ring and awaits the return of his opponent, using the extra seconds to collect himself. Claw rolls back into the ring, and Thunder is immediately on top of him, stomping the Thai boxer. Lau shouts at his man from the outside.] TD: I think Lau's being more of a hindrance than a help here, Steve. All his power trip is achieving is slowing Claw down. SR: If Claw would just follow Lau's instructions, he wouldn't be getting beaten on now, Dross. [Thunder drags Claw to his feet and executes a slingshot suplex, bouncing Claw off the ropes before dumping him to the mat with great force. Pop! Claw manages to get to his feet, but is taken straight back to the mat by a big clothesline from Thunder. Lau beats on the apron with his fists and yells instructions at Claw. Thunder attempts an elbowdrop on Claw, who rolls out of the way. Claw is slow to get to his feet, and Thunder beats him back to the vertical base. He hits a couple of stiff forearms, staggering Claw, and then executes an impressive Fisherman's suplex, going for the pin - 1 - 2 - kickout!] TD: Thunder has been resurgent here, Steve. He's showing that power and technical skill which makes him such a dangerous opponent. [Lau continues to berate Claw from the outside. Thunder approaches the side of the ring where Lau is situated and bends to send a few choice words in the manager's direction. Lau looks offended, and steps away. Thunder smirks, but is then hit from behind by a knee to the back of the head from Claw, which knocks him through the ropes to the outside! Heel pop! Claw follows Thunder to the outside, dragging him to his feet and ramming his head into the steel ringsteps with a sickening clang.] TD: This is an uncharacteristic strategy from Claw. Usually, he likes to keep his opponents in the ring where he can get the best mileage out of those kicks. SR: I dare say Lau has told Claw that the most important strategy he could have in this match is to wear Thunder down as fast as possible. Thunder's one tough customer, but nobody can have their head rammed into the steel steps and not feel it. [Lau seems more pleased with Claw's actions, and directs him to bash Thunder's head into the steps again. Claw hesitates, and as he tries to ram Thunder's head downwards, Brody blocks and instead rams Claw's head into the steps! Big pop! Thunder pulls an official off a steel chair at ringside and folds it up, brandishing it above his head. The referee immediately follows the wrestlers to the outside, but is unable to stop Thunder cracking the chair over Claw's back as the Thai boxer tries to get back to his feet. Big pop!] TD: Ouch! Thunder delivers some of the stiffest chair shots I've ever seen, Steve! He really makes them count. SR: He sure does. Claw seems to be suffering as a result of not listening to Brian Lau's strategic advice. It's not that there's anything wrong with Lau's tactics, it's just that Claw's ego is getting too large, and he thinks he knows best. Thunder's proving here that he certainly doesn't! [Lau is beside himself once more, and as the referee forces Thunder back into the ring, he verbally attacks Claw even more as the Thai boxer attempts to shake off the cobwebs, pulling himself to his feet using the ring apron. The referee continues to count Tiger Claw out as Thunder stands in the ring and accepts a mixed pop from the crowd, which then turns to solid jeers as a figure emerges from the head of the aisle.] TD: It's Casey "Blackheart" James! Casey cost Thunder his match against Claw last week! SR: And by the looks of things, Dross, he'd be more than happy for lightning to strike Thunder twice! [Casey holds aloft the IIWF World Heavyweight Championship belt as he saunters down the aisle, motioning cracking Thunder over the head with it as he had one week previously. Thunder watches Casey come and beckons him to get into the ring. The referee, still watching the recovering Claw on the outside, reaches the count of ten and signals for the bell. Ding! Ding! Ding! Suddenly, the crowd explodes!] TD: This match has been stopped, folks. I think Claw's been counted out... Something's got this crowd excited... hang on. Somebody else is coming down to ringside. That looks like... get a camera up there... is that?! SR: It can't be! It's the "Outlaw" J.W. Hardin! TD: Hardin?! [About ten paces behind Casey James walks the huge and familiar frame of the "Outlaw" J.W. Hardin. He looks as big and mean as ever as he heads down to the ring, ignoring the reaction of the crowd. Casey stops at the bottom of the aisle and continues to jaw with Thunder, believing the crowd's reaction to be for him.] TD: I can't believe this! The "Outlaw" J.W. Hardin has returned from Europe to be here tonight! But who's side is he on? The last time we saw Hardin, before Ring Wars II last October, he was working with the Syndicate... has he come to add insult to injury with Thunder here tonight?! [Brian Lau stops berating Claw long enough to see the cause of all the commotion, as Hardin closes in on Casey. Lau yells at Casey to turn around, which Casey duly does, only to be met by a lightning-fast vicious Cattle Buster DDT onto the arena floor from Hardin! Huge mixed pop!] TD: Wow! Hardin just put the Cattle Buster on Casey James! I guess he's on Thunder's side after all! SR: I knew Thunder had something big planned, Dross, but this goes far beyond what I was expecting. I can't believe this! Hardin's back! TD: I don't think Brian Lau can believe it either, Steve! Hardin's got the IIWF Championship belt back in his hands -- don't forget, he was the first man to ever wear that title! SR: How could I forget, Dross? Hardin was the best champion the IIWF has ever seen! [Hardin goes after Lau, slapping the belt in a threatening manner with one hand. The crowd continues to pop like crazy as Lau backs around the ring, trying to sweet-talk Hardin. Lau trips over a cable and falls to the floor, and Hardin raises the IIWF belt above his head as if to nail Lau with it... but he's jumped from behind by Tiger Claw! Big heel pop! Claw lays into Hardin with a number of kicks, staggering the big man, but Thunder leaves the ring and comes to the Outlaw's aid, nailing Claw from behind once more with a chair.] TD: This is chaos out here! Listen to this crowd! They can't believe what they're seeing, and neither can I! Hold it -- the Dark Disciples are coming to ringside! [Another heel pop as Kane and Wulf dash down the aisle to ringside. Hardin grabs the IIWF title belt and rolls under the bottom rope into the ring, while Thunder throws his chair into the ring and follows the Outlaw into the squared circle. The two cowboys stand back to back and ward off their attackers. Every time a Syndicate member tries to get into the ring, the two men soon knock them from the apron.] TD: This is incredible! Hardin and Thunder stand back to back in the ring, and they've shut the Syndicate out completely! SR: Lau had better call off his men, Dross! Casey's in la-la land right now after that DDT, and Claw's in no state to be fighting after two chair shots from Thunder. While the cowboys have those weapons in their hands, there's no way the Syndicate are getting in there. [Lau helps Casey to his feet and drags Claw back up to a vertical base. He signals to the Disciples that they should make their way back to the locker rooms. Hardin goes to the ropes nearest the Syndicate and flaunts the IIWF title belt at Casey, who holds his head and points up at Hardin.] TD: This is ridiculous! Now the "Outlaw" J.W. Hardin has possession of Dan Kauffman's World title belt! SR: That belt's back with its rightful owner, if you ask me, Dross. [As Lau and his cohorts back up the aisle, Brody Thunder grabs a microphone from the ring announcer, climbs back into the squared circle, and shouts after the Syndicate:] BT: Hey boys, where're ya goin'? The dance ain't over yet. Seems like the playin' field just got leveled, fellas. I'd like ya ta meet the man who's gonna help me kick up some dust with you punks. Oh but I guess ya already know 'im, huh? [big heel pop] Y'know I got sick o' havin' my head handed to me tryin' to go one-on-one. Dogs travel in packs an' I decided to find someone who couldn't care less 'bout the odds... but loves a good scrap as much as the Lone Wolf. Well boys, I found that man. He's standin' right here starin' atcha. His name alone makes ya shake in yer boots, boys. He's the original outlaw himself... J.W. Hardin! The rules o' the game just changed my friends. Tell 'em big man.... [Hardin takes the mic. He walks to the ropes without saying a word and glances around the IIWF Coliseum as the pop grows. Whoops come from the upper deck while several fans at ringside yell obscenities at the Outlaw. Several wadded-up paper cups fly past his head. He finally raises the microphone to his mouth.] JWH: Ain't... life... grand! For four months I've been kickin' ass and takin' no prisoners in Europe. And for four months I've been hearin' the same 'ol crap from the IIWF... Kauffman this and Kauffman that. Deathbringer this and Deathbringer that. Well lemme tell ya all somethin', the future of the IIWF ain't with Danny boy and it ain't with the Dark Zombie. The future of the IIWF is standin' in this ring and his name is "Lone Wolf" Brody Thunder! [Huge mixed pop. Paper cups and other trash continues to fly into the ring. Slowly, the crowd settles down.] Now I thought we had ever'thing worked out when I left for that damned hellhole called Europe. We had a little alliance and things were runnin' just fine. But somewhere along the line, y'all... YEAH, I'm talkin' to YOU, Brian Lau... y'all started gettin' a little greedy again. You wanted it all for yourself. Well there are a few things you don't do in this life. You don't make camp in the path of a cattle drive. You don't put your bare hands on a branding iron. You don't [BLEEP] around with a cowboy and his friends. And Syndicate... you sure as hell don't screw around with Outlaw J.W. Hardin's master plan. Now when this man [he points at Brody Thunder] called me and told me what was goin' on 'tween him and the Syndicate and asked for my help, it was what Tim Dross calls a "no brainer." Dross has been called that a lot himself. I asked for a month off from the European Wrestling Alliance and -- y'know, it's amazing what holding some suit out of a fourteenth story window will do -- they read'ly agreed. So for the next four weeks, things'll be a little different when Brody Thunder comes to the ring. J.W. Hardin's gonna be with him. For the next four weeks, things'll be a little different when Brody Thunder walks through parkin' lots. J.W. Hardin's gonna be with him. For the next four weeks, Syndicate, things'll just be a little different in the IIWF. What's that mean? Ask the Horsemen. Ask the Man of Steel. Oh yeah, they ain't around anymore. THAT'S what it means! For the next four weeks, Outlaw J.W. Hardin is home. And for the next four weeks, Becky LaRue's gonna have a smile on her face. Hey big man, let's go find the Drifters and break out the Kessler's Whiskey! [Hardin drops the microphone and walks back over to the middle of the ring. He and Brody Thunder shake hands to a tremendous mixed pop and climb from the ring. Larry Morton comes down the aisle and attempts to get an interview, but Thunder and Hardin ignore him and walk on. They disappear from sight into the locker room area. Cut back to the announcers' table.] TD: Fans, I still can't believe what we've just seen! The "Outlaw" J.W. Hardin has returned to the IIWF! SR: This is great, Dross! The greatest champion in IIWF history is back in the thick of things again. TD: Unbelievable. Folks, we're right out of time for tonight, but this has certainly been one of the hottest Saturday Nights on record! The IIWF Tag Team Championship belts have been stolen from the Dark Disciples, we have a new Intercontinental Champion in the shape of Marty Warnett, and the "Outlaw" J.W. Hardin has returned to stand beside Brody Thunder... We're going to be feeling the aftershocks of events here tonight for some time! I'll be back on Tuesday with another look Inside the IIWF, and don't forget that the IIWF Hotline is available round the clock on 1-900-325-IIWF, with updates every Sunday night, but for now, this is Tim Dross, for "Soundbite" Steve Roberts, saying: so long, everybody! [Cut to an aerial shot of the ring. Litter and debris thrown by the crowd is scattered over the canvas as the IIWF logo, cast by one of the overhead lights, spins over the ring and the crowd. 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 -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=+