[Fade up on footage subtitled, "Earlier this week." The IIWF Coliseum in Portland, Oregon stands empty, save for the partially-constructed ring, on one of the turnbuckles of which sits IIWF World Heavyweight Champion, Dan "Flash" Kauffman. He hops down from the buckles, and paces the ring, pondering over his words:] DK: There comes a time when you reach the pinnacle of your career, and things start turning downward. I've always considered this to be the time to walk away from the thing you loved. Better to step away and let the next underdog step into the sunshine no one thought he'd ever see. There are thousands of future Dan Kauffmans, each one with his own unique style and outlook. That's what makes the world special. When I won the IIWF World Championship, I reached the top of the e-wrestling world. And all the criticism stopped. Cold. No one had any doubts. I had stepped into a sport supposedly without reason, rhyme or rapport, and I made it to the top as a normal person. No one was supposed to ever accomplish that feat, but there I was. Unfortunately, once you reach the top, there's nowhere to go but down. And sadly, I fear that my career has started that downward path. When I attacked Quigley, sure, I was frustrated with the guy, but something just plain felt wrong. I didn't know quite what was wrong at the time, but I do now. I no longer have the desire or the determination to continue in a sport where the abnormal is the norm. Wrestling _was_ my love, but not now. [Kauffman paces a few steps, then looks squarely into the camera...] So here's what I'm going to do. In the next weeks, I will defend my IIWF Championship against all the wrestlers who have unquestionably earned a shot at the belt. These wrestlers include Marty Warnett, Billy Shakespeare, Serge Annis, Brody Thunder, Tiger Claw, the Subway Psycho, Otto Verhoeven, and Casey James. That's eight matches. I feel it is my duty to defend my title against the top competition, and that is what I will do. I have just one more goal in the world of wrestling. That goal is to face Chris Quigley one on one, to see who is the better wrestler. Chris and I have known each other more than 15 months, and we've both "grown up" in e-wrestling at about the same time. Many have said that a Quigley/Kauffman match would be the greatest match in the history of wrestling. I agree. And I plan on giving the world, and Quigley, the greatest match in the history of wrestling. I will meet Chris Quigley at IIWF's Ring Wars III, and if I am still the champion, I will defend the belt against him at that time. After the match, win or lose, I will retire from active participation in the sport of wrestling. [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 + + 25 January 1997 + [Fade through to interior shots of the jam-packed IIWF Coliseum. More enthusiastic members of the twenty thousand-strong crowd clamour to get into shot as the camera pans down past row upon row of fans. There seem to be dozens of signs reading along the lines of, "Say It Ain't So, Dan!", although there are others which read, "Good Riddance!", "Flash Down The Pan!" and so on. The spotlights swirl over the crowd as fireworks explode high in the rafters. Over these scenes comes the voice of Tim Dross:] TD: Welcome everybody to Portland, Oregon! Welcome everybody to the IIWF Coliseum! Welcome everybody to another _live_ and _loud_ edition of IIWF Saturday Night! [Cut to a closeup of a number of pieces of red card scattered on the floor of an aisleway in the Coliseum, apparently discarded from the now-occupied seats. In large black lettering, they read: "Mr./Mrs. Owens, On behalf of the Corporation, "The CEO" Jack Montgomery and Creed thank you for attending IIWF Saturday Night. Welcome to The Terrordome." and the like.] SR: [voice over] I've heard of papering an event, but this is ridiculous. [Cut to the broadcast table in the ringside enclosure, at which stand Tim Dross, Larry Morton, and "Soundbite" Steve Roberts.] TD: Hello there, fans, and welcome to what is sure to be another incredible IIWF event. I'm Tim Dross, and beside me this week are my broadcast colleagues, Larry Morton and "Soundbite" Steve Roberts. LM: It's great to be back here on Saturday Night, Tim. SR: Not for the rest of us, it isn't. TD: You heard at the top of the show about the impending retirement of the IIWF World Heavyweight Champion and his intention to face "Quickstrike" Chris Quigley in the main event at IIWF Ring Wars III on March 22, in the Toronto Skydome. Fans, this is big news -- I received a memo from the President's desk earlier today which confirmed that this match will indeed take place at Ring Wars III, with stipulations yet to be announced. But what a battle it's going to be -- two of the finest technical wrestlers in the sport facing off one-on-one in the massive Skydome. LM: Nearly ninety thousand fans will have the opportunity to witness that incredible match live in less than two months. Tickets will be going on sale this week, so don't miss out on the chance of seeing this match for the ages. SR: Enough with the hype already. Can we talk about something a little more important, please? TD: Like what, Steve? SR: Like the fact that I'm going to pound widdle Wonnie Pawis all over the Coliseum later on tonight. TD: [raising an eyebrow] That's right, folks. Against doctor's orders, Steve Roberts will be making his long-awaited return to the squared circle to face Ronnie Paris in what is sure to be an... interesting... encounter. SR: I've got a little something up my sleeve for Paris, Dross, just you wait and see. LM: We have ten other incredible matches scheduled here tonight, fans. The new IIWF Intercontinental Champion, Marty Warnett, will face the toughest challenge of his career as he goes up against "Quickstrike" Chris Quigley in his first title defense, and we'll also see the IIWF Cruiserweight Championship put on the line as the "Enigma" Takezo Musashi takes on the bizarre... er... TD & SR: [together] Clown! LM: Would you two stop that? TD: The big matches just keep coming, folks. We're going to see the IIWF's first ever Terrordome Match as the wily Sandman takes on newcomer Creed, who is absolutely on fire here in the IIWF. SR: It didn't take long for Creed to make an impact here in the IIWF, Dross, but he's already made the mistake of listening to these moronic fans. I wouldn't be surprised to see the Sandman put him away in the Terrordome tonight. LM: We're also going to see Harlequin Chaos attempt to regain the favour of Harlequin Melody in a Best Of Three Falls Match against Mr. Damage, who kidnapped Melody here on IIWF Saturday Night too weeks ago in one of the most bizarre moments in IIWF history. TD: Plus Lord Byron will battle the Subway Psycho, the Armed Forces go up against the Players' Club -- who are still in illegal possession of the IIWF World Tag Team Championship belts -- and in six-man tag action, Josey Wales' Posse goes up against the Hangmen. On top of all that, tonight's main event is round four in the ongoing battle between "Lone Wolf" Brody Thunder -- now with the "Outlaw" J.W. Hardin in his corner -- and the Syndicate's Tiger Claw. LM: Although it looks like Claw won't be part of the Syndicate for much longer. There's a lot of dissention between Brian Lau's men at the moment, and I think Claw's going to turn himself loose pretty quickly. SR: If Claw thinks he can get anywhere in the IIWF without the masterminding of Brian Lau, he's got another thing coming. TD: We'll see about that. But now let's get to our opening encounter... hold on. I understand there's some kind of disturbance backstage. We have a camera back there... [Cut to a cameraman, who is with "Sychosys" Joe Petrow somewhere in the IIWF Coliseum. Petrow has his hair tied back in a ponytail, and is wearing an IIWF sweatshirt, blue jeans, and a pair of sandals. In his left hand he is holding a plastic bag full of tapes, and his right hand holds a mysterious metal container.] JP: Good evening ladies and gentlemen, this is former IIWF World Tag Team Champions "Sychosys" Joe Petrow, with an IIWF Special Report! The fans of the great IIWF action always have their eyes on the wrestlers during our broadcasts, but tonight, I want to give credit where credit is due to the hard-working guys behind the scenes who make sure everything goes off without a hitch each and every week! Tonight, we pay a visit to the man who plays the wrestler's theme music as they make their way to the ring! C'mon! [The cameraman follows Petrow to a door near the end of the hall. Joe opens the door to reveal a man in a small room, working on some electrical equipment. A window reveals a view high above the arena.] JP: There he is, the man behind the music! [The man, startled, turns to face Joe and the cameraman.] MAN: Hey, you aren't supposed to be here! JP: Hey, don't worry! I'm here to honour the great work that you do for us! In fact, I'm here to give you the night off! MAN: Get lost, I have work to do! JP: Okay, maybe I didn't explain myself fully. You see this here? [holds up right hand] This is a can of Bosnian tear gas. This isn't your ordinary American riot-gear stuff. And it's not "tear" as in "shed a tear". It's "tear" as in "tear your eyeballs out of your head." I've developed an immunity to the stuff, you don't want to know how. But it might be a teensy bit uncomfortable for you should this stuff leak out. So once again I say, I'm here to give _you_ the night _off_! [points his finger to the door] [The frightened worker immediately bolts out of the door.] JP: [to the cameraman, waving the cannister in the air] I think you can leave too! [The cameraman turns to flee. In the background, Petrow can be heard saying, "It's time to rock!" Cut back to ringside.] TD: Isn't anybody going to go up there and stop Petrow messing with that expensive equipment? SR: With Bosnian tear gas around there? Not me. LM: I'm not going anywhere. TD: [sighs] Well, I understand that intern Steve Summer is back in the locker room area with Serge Annis, who is about to tag up with the bizarre Dirt Dog Unique Allah to face Nightwing and the Highwayman. Let's go to him now: [Cut to Serge Annis standing backstage with Steve Summers.] SS: Folks, I am standing here with a man whose sanity is questioned by many, the "Epitome of Evil" Serge Annis. [Annis glares at Steve.] SS: Serge, tonight, you will go into the ring with Dirt Dog to face newcomers The HIghwayman and Nightwing. What are your thoughts on this matchup? SA: My thoughts... my thoughts, what difference does it make about my thoughts... why would my thoughts be important? [Steve has a baffled look on his face.] SS: I'm not too sure I follow what you mean. SA: Well, according to some of the talent around here in IIWF, I AM JUST A FIREWHELMING FREAK WHO SEEMS NOT TO UNDERSTAND THAT WHICH HE PLAYS WITH, THAT WHICH HE EMBRACES! Listen up Nightwing, to each his own. You can go around with your little Indian thing, I don't give a damn... BUT WHEN YOU TRY TO APPLY YOUR BELIEFS TO ME, YOU ARE CONDEMNING YOURSELF... Listen up, Nightwing, and you especially, White Phoenix, DO NOT MAKE CLAIMS THAT YOU ARE NOT SURE OF! THE FIRE THAT BURNS INSIDE MY MIND IS ONE HUNDRED TIMES THE STRENGTH OF ANY FIRE THAT CAN EVER BE LIT HERE IN LIFE! DO NOT TELL ME THAT I ABUSE THE POWERS OF FIRE, THE MYSTICAL FORCES WITHIN IT... it is fire... not a bible. If you morons out there in TV-land, or in the IIWF, think that fire is the only thing that controls me, you're _dead wrong_! I have some news for those that think I am simply a fire-bearing psychopath, and you will all find that out soon enough when I snap your neck in vain! SS: Uhm, okay. WHat about your tag match tonight? SA: I don't get much respect around the IIWF, and maybe all within just time that will change... but it is wrong. So far all of my opponents have underestimated me, TREATED ME LIKE A SIDELINE TO SOMETHING ELSE! So listen up Nightwing, Highwayman, White Phoenix, AND EXPECIALLY YOU DEATHBRINGER! YOU ALL GO ASK THE CHAMPION DAN KAUFFMAN JUST HOW LETHAL I AM, JUST HOW MUCH OF A THREAT I POSE, and you will find out... or perhaps I should prove it the easy way...by snapping your necks... And another thing... I try to steer clear from attacking a man during a match... it is so dishonorable and cowardly, albeit that sometimes the situation demands it, BUT WITH WHAT I SEE IN IIWF IT MAKES ME SICK! SICK TO BE IN A FEDERATION FULL OF SUCH COWARDS! RONNIE PARIS, YOU ARE A FOOL! YOU CAME OUT AND WATCHED KOWALSKI AND ME FIGHT! WHY? You could have watched it backstage, but you didn't. You came out... and who knows what your intentions were... for that you will pay first. "SUPERSTAR" STUD STETSON! You make me sick. There is no need for you to hide behind that baseball bat you wield... stop hiding behind it and fight your enemies like a man... SS: What about your match tonight? SA: I have quite a few other things to get off my chest! I want to make an offer to one "Quickstrike" Chris Quigley. Quickstrike, fellow Canadian. Quickstrike, you seem to have a numbers problem that being there aren't enough of you to keep away the Players' Club... I try not to stick my nose where it doesn't belong, but to you Quigley I make an offer... You tried to trust Brody Thunder and it didn't work... I give you my word... Quigley, I want to watch your back. I won't be a stinking bodygaurd, but an ally... You seem to need them... I have a beef just as much as you do with Kauffman... now I think we should extract some revenge for ourselves. SS: It's not like you have a match later tonight or anything, Serge. SA: Dan Kauffman, one quick note... you offer me a world title match in one of your final eight... no. Keep your IIWF World Heavyeight Title match, I don't want it. I want a one on one... you... me and no Players' Club, in a match where that championship means nothing. I never came to the IIWF looking for gold, I came here looking for you Kauffman... keep the belt at home, because this one is personal, Kauffman, not business. SS: You know, most poeple like to talk about their matches during these pre-match interviews. SA: Chow... don't stick your nose where it doesn't belong. Don't make any of those false statements about me. I will ignore your ignorant comments I heard yesterday... but be wise enough not to repeat such mistakes. SS: That's it, this is pointless. [Steve walks away from Annis who stares at the camera.] SA: Tonight, Dirt Dog Unique and I against two of the newcomers... we are all "newcomers" to the IIWF, aren't we? WELL, ME AND DIRT DOG WILL SHOW EVERYONE THAT WE ARE THE BETTER NEWCOMERS! DOG, IF YOU TURN YOUR BACK ON ME... if you get distracted somehow... if you try to violate our tag team efforts, you will pay too. Nightwing, save your crap for someone who cares, Highwayman, WAKE UP! YOU HAVE NOT BEEN DEAD FOR A THOUSAND YEARS! I WILL GIVE YOU A WAKE UP CALL AND SNAP YOU OUT OF YOUR DELUSIONS OF GRANDEUR! AND FOR ALL OF THOSE THAT DOUBT MY WORDS... _ALL_ of them... it will soon be proven... that I am... _DEAD_ serious. [Annis walks off the camerashot. Cut back to ringside.] SR: [pretending to snore] TD: You can wake up now, Steve. He's finished. SR: Thank heavens for that. What a windbag. He's much better off doing his talking in the ring. LM: We're ready to go up to Sparkplug Lee for the introductions in tonight's opening encounter. =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- Highwayman & Nightwing vs. Dirt Dog Unique Allah & Serge Annis -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= WRITER: RD SR: Unfortunately for Annis he's been saddled with a drunken loser for a tag team partner. I hate to say this, but Injun' and Fruitcakeman just might dominate the bout. TD: Please use Nightwing and Highwayman's correct names, Steve. This Serge Annis and Dirt Dog partnership certainly is, er... unique. On paper it looks like an akward pairing, but who knows? Sometimes the most unusual combinations are the best. SR: Like Kessler's whiskey and blancmange? TD: Er... no. [The spotlight falls on center ring but Sparkplug Lee is conspicious by his absence. The camera pans around ringside to reveal the ring announcer sitting by ringside, ignoring the arena safety codes by puffing on a cigarette. Lee suddenly notices the camera on him and hurriedly stubs the cigarette out, sending a shower of sparks into the audience. He scrambles to get into the ring, looking embarrased.] SR: Isn't it time Spreadbury fired that clutz? LM: Sparkplug Lee has the finest voice inflection in the business, Steve. He's a real asset to the IIWF. SR: Oh yeah... I can see all the screaming Sparkplug-o-philes out there storming the box office right now, just so they can get a glimpse of a ring announcer. TD: Steady on, and have an anti-sarcasm tablet, Steve. RA: The following tag team contest is scheduled for one fall. Introducing first, hailing from Ontario, Canada, weighing in at 293 lbs, the "Epitome of Evil", Serge Annis! Accompanied by his partner for tonight, hailing from Brooklyn, NY, weighing in at 238 lbs, Dirt Dog Unique Allah! [The crowd appears confused as "Do Ya' Think I'm Sexy" by Rod Stewart plays over the loudspeakers, but nonetheless they give a big heel pop as Serge Annis appears at the head of the aisle. Serge looks up and gives a snicker at the choice of tunes, then walks down the aisle laughing to himself and flicking his Zippo lighter on and off. He is soon followed by the Unique one, who lurches down the aisle swigging from a cheap wine cask. Dirt Dog reaches ringside and notices the music for the first time. Apparently under the impression that he is at a disco, Dirt Dog starts dancing clumsily in front of the ringside fans. The crowd gives him a pop, and excited by their encouragement, the Unique one attempts to remove his clothing. Thankfully ringside security is able to restrain Dirt Dog and re-direct him towards the ring.] SR: What the hell is with the Rod Stewart music? That almost inspired Dirt Dog to get us banned from air! TD: It looks like Joe Petrow has made good on his invasion of the PA booth and is substituting the wrestlers' usual theme music for his own playlist... SR: But Rod Stewart? Petrow must really have a screw loose then... RA: And introducing their opponents. Hailing from Leeds, England, weighing in at 285 lbs, here is the Highwayman! And his partner for this evening, hailing from Cherokee, North Carolina, weighing in at 235 lbs, here is Nightwing! [The crowd gives a confused murmour as "Dude Looks Like A Lady" by Aerosmith blares out over the PA system. They still give a fairly loud pop for Highwayman and Nightwing however, as the two rookies appear at the head of the aisle.] TD: Heh, heh, maybe that song is Joe Petrow's comment on your ring attire for your match against Ronnie Paris this evening. SR: Look Drossy, that was then and this is now. The feather boas will be staying at home for tonight, but what I'll be wearing is unimportant. What really counts is me kicking that whining rookie's teeth in. [Nightwing and Highwayman climb into the ring. Highwayman spins his flintlock pistols around his fingers and points them with a flourish at Serge Annis. Cowd pop! Annis just gives a manic grin in return and flicks his Zippo lighter some more. Chiquot, Nightwing's companion eagle, swoops around the arena a few times then settles in the rafters.] SR: Somebody get that diseased pigeon out of here, this is a wrestling arena, not a damned zoo! LM: Chiqoit has been Nightwing's life-long companion and gives him inspiration in the ring. Theres no reason to be upset, Steve. SR: Well, if that buzzard comes anywhere near me, I'll wring it's damn neck. [Suddenly Serge Annis rushes at Nightwing and clotheslines the Native American from the ring. Highwayman charges at the psychopath from the side and bodyblocks him, but Annis is unmoved. He turns around and grabs the big man by the throat, lifting him into the air and then smashing him down to the canvas with a chokeslam! Heel pop! Dirt Dog leaves the ring and falls off the apron as the bell rings, still singing "Do ya think I'm sexy, Do ya want my body..." out loud.] TD: Wow! Serge Annis cleared house and established some early domination before the bell even sounded! I don't think I've ever seen a 285 pounder slammed with such ease. SR: Go Serge! Anyone who slanders Becky LaRue deserves a victory. [Nightwing collects himself outside and gets back onto the apron in his corner. Dirt Dog sits on the apron with his back to the ring, mumbling to himself about Medusa. Meanwhile Serge Annis drops atop Highwayman for the quick pin: 1 - 2, Highwayman kicks out easily. Annis hauls the Yorkshireman up by the hair and blasts him with a couple of headbutts, then brings him in close for a short arm clothesline. Highwayman is quicker than Serge expected, however, and manages to clip his foe with an elbow to the jaw. Annis staggers back, and Highwayman follows up by slugging him with roundhouse rights. Annis takes the blows, but simply smirks and starts slugging Highwayman right back! The two exchange punches in a clubbering brawl, neither man gaining the advantage until Annis manages to gouge Highwayman's eyes. The Yorkshireman is rendered helpless after the illegal tactic, and can do nothing as Annis DDTs him to the mat.] TD: The two powerhouses of their respective teams square off in an all-out brawl. I have to say I'm disappointed that Serge Annis felt the need to resort to an illegal eye gouge. SR: This is great, they're beating the snot out of each other in there! Not a pure wrestling move in sight, that's my kind of wrestling. [Annis goes to his corner to tag Dirt Dog in, but the lush is'nt paying any attention and remains seated with his back to the ring, mumbling to himself. Annis looks annoyed and taps Allah on the shoulder, but the bum just dismisses him with a glance over his shoulder and a "get outta here muhfuh!". Meanwhile Highwayman has recovered sufficiently to crawl to his corner and tag in Nightwing. Annis is oblivious to the tag and begins to berate Dirt Dog, who just ignores him. Finally Annis shakes his head and turns back to the ring, only to be met with a flying dropkick from Nightwing! Big pop! Serge falls against the ropes, but manages to avoid tumbling over them. He comes bounding off with a clothesline attempt, but Nightwing dodges nimbly aside. Annis bounces off the opposite ropes and charges at the native american like a bull. The rookie is able to intercept Annis with a hip toss, bringing the "Epitome of Evil" down to the mat.] TD: It appears Dirt Dog Unique Allah has abcolutely no interest in this match, and it cost Serge Annis the advantage right there. SR: That no good bum! What the hell does he think he's doing here? Does he even realise that Serge Annis is supposed to be his partner? TD: You never know what to expect from the Unique one Steve, perhaps he has soemthing up his sleeve to save the match for his side. [Serge Annis is quickly back to his feet, but Nightwing backs him up with several hard-hitting tomahawk chops. Nightwing whips the psychopath to the ropes and meets him on the rebound with a well executed Frankensteiner. Big face pop! Nightwing makes the tag to Highwayman, and the yorshireman quickly goes to work on Annis, dropping elbows and knees on the big man.] TD: I have to say, Nightwing and Highwayman have displayed by far the better teamwork thus far this evening. Serge Annis and Dirt Dog _must_ display some unity if they hope to turn their fortunes around. SR: Would you want to unify with a stinking, drunken fool like Unique Allah, Timbo? TD: Not if I could help it. SR: Well, there you go, Serge Annis will have to take on both men himself if he wants the duke. [Highwayman goes for the pin, but Annis is not nearly out of it enough and kicks out on the one count. The psychopath is still groggy however, as Highwayman drags him into postion and executes a gutwrench suplex. Highwayman drops a big leg across Annis' throat, and goes for the pin once again. The referee's hand slaps the mat: 1 - 2 - Annis kicks out just before the three count. Meanwhile Dirt Dog Unique Allah appears to notice what is going on at last and leaps to his feet, yelling and waving his arms. Highwayman is bemused by his antics, and the ref is distracted enough to go over and restrain the Unique one. Serge Annis takes advantage of all the commotion and uppercuts Highwayman in the groin, causing the Yorkshireman to stagger back clutching himself in agony. Serge staggers to his feet, and shouldering the ref aside makes the tag at last.] LM: Once again Serge Annis throws himself a lifeline with an illegal tactic. SR: Dirt Dog saved Annis' ass that time, but I don't think he even knows it. Look at him now! [Dirt Dog Unique Allah takes his time getting into the ring, repeatedly stumbling over the ropes and muttering to himself, giving Highwayman enough time to tag in Nightwing. Serge Annis stares at the drunken bum balefully, fed up with his antics, but Dirt Dog does'nt even notice. The Unique one finally makes it into the ring, and immediately begins lurching all over the place, drunkenly holding his fists up and shouting challenges to no one in particular. Nightwing watches this display for a moment, not quite knowing what to make of it. Suddenly Dirt Dog strikes, launching himself at Nightwing with a baseball slide, clipping the Native American's knees out from under him.] TD: What a cheap shot! It looks like Dirt Dog was playing possum and took Nightwing completely by surprise. I have to say, he displayed nimbleness there not quite befitting a drunken man. SR: Perhaps there is more to the Unique one than meets the eye, Drossy. Maybe he isn't quite as drunk as he makes himself out to be. [Dirt Dog immediately goes to work on the fallen Nightwing, stomping his chest and legs furiously. Then he drops atop the Native American and begins viciously biting his forehead. Nightwing kicks around a little until the ref manages to drag Dirt Dog off, who gets in the referee's face and shouts "Whaddaya' think you're doing man!?" The ref staggers back from Dirt Dog's boozy breath, and the Unique one just shrugs and begins brutally stomping Nightwing's chest and head.] SR: Dirt Dog is doing the funky chicken on Nightwing's ribcage! TD: He's doing the what? [Nightwing is motionless, and Dirt Dog flops down on him for the pin. The ref begins to count 1 - 2... suddenly Dirt Dog rolls off Nightwing with his eyes shut and begins to snore. It appears that he has fallen asleep! Serge Annis throws his arms up in despair and the crowd begins to laugh. Something apparently disturbs Dirt Dog's little beauty sleep and he leaps up, waving his arms in the air shouting "Where am I? What's goin' on, yuh muhfuh!"] SR: What an idiot! What a useless moron! Dirt Dog had the victory wrapped up and he passed out right in the middle of a pin! TD: Well, if that was part of Dirt Dog's game plan I really can't figure out his intentions. Perhaps he _is_ nothing more than a drunken bum. [Dirt Dog staggers around trying to get his bearings as Nightwing struggles to rise from the mat. Highwayman leans his hand over the ropes and shouts encouragement to his fallen partner. Suddenly Serge Annis, apparantly fed up with his partner's messing around storms the ring and spins Dirt Dog around to face him, looking furious. The Unique one looks upset and mouths "hey, what's your muhfuhin' problem man!" The referee attempts to usher the "Epitome of Evil" from the ring, but he simply shrugs the ref aside and grabs Dirt Dog by the throat, executing his devestating modified chokeslam on the hapless drunk! Big mixed pop! Serge stares coldly out at the crowd, then bails from the ring and heads slowly up the aisle. The audience jeers and pelts him with bits of trash.] TD: Serge Annis is bailing from this match-up! Dirt Dog has frustrated his partner into leaving the ring! What can he possibly be thinking? I don't think Dirt Dog stands much of a chance of winning this match now, especially after that tremendous chokeslam. SR: Way to go Serge! That bum messed around too much and paid the price. The only problem is, Serge will now be on the losing side... [Both Nightwing and Unique Allah are still laid out on the mat. The young Native American struggles to regain his footing and make the tag as the crown begins to chant "Night-wing! Night-wing!" Slowly the Cherokee raises himself up, and then slaps the hand of the Highwayman to a big crowd pop! Highwayman is all fired up and immediately rushes the Dirt Dog, dragging him to his feet and tagging him with big punches. Dirt Dog does his best to scuffle back, but he is still wobbly from Serge Annis' chokeslam and is soon overcome. Highwayman grapples the Dirt Dog, and demonstrating his impressive power, presses the bum over his head! The crowd pops as Highwayman drops Dirt Dog in a gorilla press slam.] TD: Ohh! Drops him like yesterday's newspaper! SR: You spout more cliches than Gorilla Monsoon, Dross. LM: Steve, you know the IIWF's stipulations about mentioning stars from other wrestling organisations. [Dirt Dog doesn't look like he has much left, and Highwayman sets him up for the finisher. The crowd pops once again as the yorkshireman executes his "Daylight Robbery" neckbreaker, laying the Dirt Dog out on his back. Instead of going for the pin however, Highwayman tags in his partner. Nightwing enters the ring, and the two newcomers position Dirt Dog on the top turnbuckle. Highwayman goes back to the apron and Nightwing executes a top rope superplex on Dirt Dog. Nightwing remains standing on the turnbuckle however, and then comes off with a moonsault onto the prone Allah. Cameras flash all over the arena! The American Indian hooks the leg, and the ref begins to count: 1 - 2 - 3! Ding! Ding! Ding!] TD: Sensational! The two newcomers made an impressive showing tonight, and we got to see both the "Daylight Robbery" and "Totem Drop" finishers in action. I'm sure both these men will have bright futures ahead of them in the IIWF. SR: Yawn. They beat Dirt Dog Unique Allah, not Serge Annis. The "Epitome of Evil" is the man of the match, whatever the record books might say. RA: Here is your official decision. The winners, as a result of a pinfall, Highwayman and Nightwing! [The two newcomers look jubilant as they exchange high fives and raise each others' arms in victory. Big face pop from the crowd! Dirt Dog limps to his feet and leaves the ring, heading slowly up the aisle mumbling to himself deliriously. Chiqoit the eagle swoops down from the rafters over the Unique one's head, and the drunk waves his arms around fearfully and scrambles to get backstage. Chiqoit alights on Nightwing's right arm, and both Nightwing and Highwayman leave the ring, heading up the aisle to a big pop.] TD: Well, there you have it, folks. Quite a performance from Nightwing and the Highwayman. Up next, we're scheduled to see Casey "Blackheart" James in action. He's going to get a chance to let off some steam tonight against "Nifty" Ned Norton. He needs it, too. Casey's been really off his rocker as of late. SR: But right on top of his game plan. If it wasn't for other people sticking their nose in his business, he'd be the champ. TD: You think so? SR: Yes, I do. TD: Really? SR: Shut up... LM: Let's get up to Sparkplug Lee. =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Casey "Blackheart" James vs. "Nifty" Ned Norton =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= WRITER: MF [Cut to Sparkplug Lee, who stands in the ring.] RA: Ladies and gentlemen, this match is scheduled for one fall. Introducing first, hailing from Sweet Home, Alabama, weighing in at 235 pounds, "Nifty" Ned Norton! [Ned Norton walks down the aisle to a small pop from scattered fans throughout the Coliseum. He looks bemused as the plaintive bugle calls of "Taps" plays over the PA.] LM: What's with that music? SR: I think Petrow's dropping Norton a few hints about his career prospects. Hey, are you related to this putz, Barry? LM: It's _Larry Morton_, Steve. SR: Oh. Whatever. [Norton has one particularly vocal fan: a guy at ringside with a shaven head and a goatee. He holds up a sign that reads "Norton for Prez!"] SR: I see we have some evidence that the war on drugs is being lost. TD: Ease up on the guy, Steve. Apparently, that guy's a good friend of Ned Norton. In fact, I heard that he had something to do with Ned's nickname being "Nifty." SR: And this is supposed to impress me for what reason? TD: Never mind... RA: His opponent, hailing from Washington D.C. and weighing in at 340 pounds, Casey "Blackheart" James! [The crowd gives a solid heel pop, and a grim-faced Casey James steps out into the aisle. He doesn't bother with his usual taunting of the crowd, and instead walks straight to ringside. He gives a grin as he realises that the music which accompanies his entry is "Saturday Night's Alright For Fighting" by Elton John.] TD: Casey looks meaner tonight. I think he looks bigger, too. SR: Casey's been working out like a madman lately, Dross. According to his application to the IIWF, he's 320. Now he officially weighs in at 340. Do you have any idea how much work goes into gaining 20 pounds? TD: I'm just baffled at the amount of work it must have taken for you to come up with that stunning colour commentary. [Casey reaches the Ned Norton fan at ringside, who shouts and waves his sign. Casey looks at him, grabs him by the face, and pushes the fan back into the crowd. The crowd gives a heel pop, and Casey leaps into the ring, opening up on Norton with punches and kicks. Norton hits the mat quickly, but Casey drags him back up and throws him into the ropes. Norton is helpless as Casey runs towards him and executes a high impact flying powerslam. Casey gets up before the ref has the chance to count the fall, and drags Norton up once again. Again Casey throws Norton into the ropes. Casey runs in, screaming, and shoulder tackles Norton in the stomach. Casey holds on, not letting Norton bounce away, and hits with a spinebuster. Casey goes for the cover... 1 - 2 - Casey pulls up Norton's head.] TD: Uh oh... SR: Uh oh is right. You know that Casey has a point to make when he does stuff like that. [Casey drags up Norton for a third time, and sets him up for the Blackheart punch. Norton seems helpless as Casey measures him up for the shot, and finally Casey lets loose with the punch. The crowd seems to cringe as the punch connects, a little harder than usual. Norton falls, but is dragged up again by Casey, who still holds his arm. Casey holds up his right hand and screams "This one's for you, Bosco!" as he slams another punch into Norton's chest. Norton falls, but again he is held up by Casey. Casey tries to set Norton up on the top rope, but in his weakened state, Norton falls onto the mat. Casey laughs at the fallen athelete, and begins laying in stomps and kicks to the ribs.] TD: Come on! There's no need for this! Pin the man! SR: Casey must have a lot to get off his chest... LM: Someone's got to stop this... Wait a minute... What's going on? [The beating of Norton seems to have been too much for the Norton fan, and he's hopped over the crowd barrier and leapt into the ring. He runs over to Norton and drapes his own body across Norton's, and the ref calls for the bell, stopping the match. Casey looks down at the fan and shakes his head. He pulls up the bald guy and holds him up by the collar of his shirt, muttering insults into the guy's face. The fan looks defiantly at Casey, but it is obvious that he's pretty worried about getting killed. Casey winds up with a right hand, and the crowd gives a huge heel pop.] TD: Come on! That's a paying fan! Oh, this is most unfortunate. SR: That'll show him... TD: Oh, no... I didn't think this could get any worse! Here comes Tiger Claw! SR: Yes! Now we're going to see some real pain! LM: [aside] Stay with this, please. Don't cut us off. [Tiger Claw runs down the aisle and into the ring. He grabs Casey by the shoulder and spins him around. Casey drops the fan and turns to face Claw, asking what's the matter. Tiger Claw yells "What is your problem?" and looks with a threatening gaze at James. James turns away from Claw to get back to the fan, but Claw again spins him around, and points a finger at him. James holds up his hands, saying "Okay, okay..." The crowd seems a little confused, but knows to give a heel pop when Brian Lau comes out to the ringside area. He grabs a couple of microphones from the timekeeper's tables and enters the ring, throwing Tiger Claw one of the mikes.] TD: Great. Just what we need in a volatile situation. Brian Lau. SR: Shut up, Dross... I want to hear this. Don't you dare start yammering while they're talking. [Brian looks at Claw for a moment, then motions to James, who moves to stand beside Lau.] BL: What do you think you're doing? TC: [With a slight accent] There's no need for this. Norton was beat. And this fan isn't even a fighter. Why is Casey beating him up? BL: He got in the way. Remember that? The Syndicate punishes those who are in their way. TC: Don't tell me about how the Syndicate runs. Without me, there is no Syndicate. We punish those who are in our way, yes. But only those who are deserving of it. This guy is just a fan... BL: Who cares? Where did this compassion come from anyway. I swear, ever since you lost that IC title to Shakespeare, you've grown soft. [The crowd gives a collective "ooh..." at the impact of these words. Tiger Claw is visibly angry.] TC: You know, I didn't want to say this... I figured the problems we've had would just pass, but I know this is not true. _You_ are the reason I lost that title, and _you_ are the reason I never got my rematch, and _you_ are the reason I've been falling lower and lower in the rankings! Ever since you got it into your head that this overgrown buffoon should be champion, I've been put on the back burner. BL: I thought you wanted a break! TC: Don't give me that. Have you ever known me to want a break? I never got my title rematch, and as a result, the belt is far from my grasp now. In fact, Marty Warnett even offered to listen to you for a Syndicate contender, and you didn't even mention my name! You even spoke of bringing someone in from the outside! BL: Claw, come on... You want a title shot? I'll get you one. TC: It's too late for that now. I'm tired of having you take care of my affairs. BL: What!? You can't do that! TC: Yes I can. You're _FIRED!_ [The crowd cheers as Tiger Claw points to Lau and gives the thumbs down.] SR: What does he think he's doing!? TD: Shhh... BL: Fine! Fine! Go on! Go on and do it on your own! Just remember that you're nothing without me! Go on and get cheered by these idiots! Take your place with the Marty Warnetts and the Chris Quigleys! [Claw turns around.] TC: That's another thing. You wouldn't know talent if it bit you in the face. I've been listening to you badmouth Quigley for weeks now, and you just don't get it. Quigley is skilled, and he's got courage. Quigley is a warrior. I respect Chris Quigley. He deserves the push he gets. [The crowd cheers.] SR: I think Claw got hit on the head or something... TC: [looking at Casey] He could beat you... [Casey seems to get angry and closes in on Claw, but Brian holds him back.] SR: Okay, Claw _definitely_ got hit on the head... TC: Lau, you speak of knowing about how to cultivate great talents and make them into stars, but all you know how to do is make your wallet thicker. Well, I'm not helping any more. Goodbye. [Tiger Claw leaves the ring and walks up the aisle. The fans cheer as he helps the Norton fan assist Norton. Brian Lau can just be heard over the pop.] BL: Claw! Come back here! You'll be sorry! I swear it! You'll be coming crawling back to me in a week! Mark my words! Don't walk away from me! Ah, dammit! [Lau throws the microphone to the mat and punches a turnbuckle. He then turns to Casey and motions for him to follow. Casey does, and they both walk up the aisle after Claw.] SR: Oh, what the hell is happening here? TD: It looks like the corner stone of the Syndicate just left the organization! Not only that, but he just cited Chris Quigley as one of the great competitors in the IIWF! I'd never expect to hear that! SR: And people say Casey James is off balance... Tiger Claw getting cheered by the fans? What's the world coming to? TD: Fans, we apologise for Casey's attack on that member of the crowd earlier in that match... Things are really getting out of hand here in the IIWF. LM: It will be very interesting to see whether Tiger Claw comes out alone for his Tombstone Strap Match later on tonight, Tim. TD: Indeed it will, Larry. Up next we have another very intriguing match. We're going to see the People's Champion, the Subway Psycho, take on the English blueblood, Lord Byron. Bulldog Brown is back in the locker room area with Byron now: [The scene switches back to the dressing room area, where IIWF interviewer Bulldog Brown is with standing with Lord Byron.] BB: I'm here to get a few words with the man who'll be facing the Subway Psycho in just a few minutes. Firstly, Byron, you haven't really been having a good time recently.. LB: [sneering] No. I haven't. BB: First your shock defeat by Unique Allah, then last week against Creed... LB: [cutting him off] Simple setbacks, Mr. Brown. Nothing more. The Creed incident was unfortunate, but I was considerably distracted at the time. Rest assured, I won't forget him in a hurry. BB: Well, would you like to explain what's happening with you and the Lady DeWinter? LB: [scowling] The "Lady" DeWinter is the last thing on my mind at the moment. What she does is her own business. She'll be back when her funds run low. At the moment, I'm concentrating on one man and one man only, the so-called "People's Champion". BB: You and him had a bit of a scuffle on Wednesday night. LB: The man is a fool. Just what did he expect to happen, interfering in my match? He will pay an even greater price tonight. [Byron slaps his cane against his palm meaningfully] Psycho! I hoped you liked your little taste of "British justice". Once we step into the ring later tonight, you're going to find out the hard way that being the [Byron sneers] "People's Champion" is no match for being the greatest ring technician in the world. BB: The Psycho's on a hot streak at the moment. Your record, on the other hand, is less than brilliant since your return. You can't just brush a man like the Psycho off lightly.... LB: Just what are you implying, Mr. Brown? I've already been upset by one stinking gutter rat this month, I'm not about to let it happen again. Don't think I'm going to underestimate this fool, far from it. I'm well aware of his ability and career record. The facts however, remain the same: When we get in the ring, the [a look of distaste flashes across Byron's face] Subway Psycho will get the wrestling lesson of his life. Ciao. [Byron snarls, and storms off the interview area.] BB: It should be an interesting match up. Let's go back to ringside. [Cut back to the broadcast table.] LM: We're about to see a live one, Tim, when two of the IIWF's best, Subway Psycho and Lord Byron hook it on up! TD: These men are coming into this contest from dramatically different places -- the Subway Psycho "lit up" Otto Verhoeven in that Third Rail Match last Saturday night, while Lord Byron suffered a real tough loss at the hands of the powerful rookie Creed. SR: Yeah, Dross, but Byron got a DQ win over Sandman Wednesday night and now that DeWinter's out of the picture, he'll be looking to get on track against the Psycho. Speaking of pictures, do you suppose Byron took any of DeWinter...? TD: [interrupting] Let's get down to ringside. =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- Lord Byron vs. Subway Psycho -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= WRITER: JJ [Sparkplug Lee chuckles briefly at a young fan at ringside, decked from head to toe as El Super Gecko.] SL: Our next contest is set for one fall. Introducing first, at a weight of 265lbs, currently residing in New Orleans, Louisiana; Lord Byron! [The crowd's reaction is split between those actively jeering Byron as he begins his walk to the ring and those who are craning their necks to view Joe Petrow as he makes his musical selection. The Hendrix classic, "Foxy Lady" kicks in, leading to more taunts from the fans, which go seemingly unnoticed by the focused Lord Byron, who his the ring with nary a sideways glance.] LM: I think Petrow's making some kind of joke about Lady DeWinter. TD: That's good, Larry. Lord Byron has really struggled to find himself in recent weeks, coming out aggressively against Dirt Dog Unique Allah and then trying to play a stall game against young Creed, but neither strategy resulted in a win. You have to wonder what we'll see tonight. SR: I'll tell you what we ain't gonna see tonight, Dross. We ain't gonna see any of Ronnie Paris. My sources say he's got his passport ready, taken out every penny he has in the bank, has loaded up the white Bronco and is heading for the border. LM: Which border? TD: Let's get back to ringside. SL: His opponent, at 255lbs, from the subways of New York City, the former IIWF Heavyweight Champion, the Subway Psycho! [Big pop as the "People's Champion" emerges, accompanied by the voice of Rick Derrenger and a vaguely familiar tune... "When it comes crashing down and it hurts inside/you gotta take a stand it won't help to hide/when you hurt my friends, then you hurt my pride/I gotta be a man/I can't let it slide..."] LM: Uh, guys, what song is that? SR: I have no idea, Bobby. TD: That's Larry, Steve. [Both men are in the ring and the Subway Psycho gets set to lock up, but Lord Byron remains in a corner, rolling his neck as if trying to loosen his trapezius. The Psycho waits as Byron then approaches, the men lock up collar and elbow, Byron goes behind for a waistlock. Subway Psycho switches and Byron jabs him with a back elbow. Subway Psycho is able to maintain the hold and goes for a belly -to-back suplex, Byron blocks and reverses into a backslide, the Psycho is able to escape and land on his feet - only to be met by a quick thumb to the eye and a sharp European uppercut. Subway Psycho misses with a roundhouse right and Lord Byron ducks out of the ring.] LM: Thumb to the eye -- that'll stop an elephant. TD: There are maybe half a dozen guys in the world who are as sound on the mat as Lord Byron. He knows the Subway Psycho was in an all out war Saturday against "The Butcher" and he's gonna make him wait tonight. SR: Not as long as these fans will have to wait, tonight if they wanna see Ronnie Paris. They could wait 'til March and he's still not gonna show. [Byron has taken an inordinately long time outside the ring, repeatedly breaking the official's count and then heading back outside. Subway Psycho has become visibly irritated, and leaps out over the top rope, only to find that Lord Byron has slid back into the ring. The Psycho attempts to re-enter, but is met with a series of stomps to the head, neck and hands. Byron drags Subway Psycho to his feet and corner-whips him, Subway Psycho reverses and Byron goes chest first into the buckle. Subway Psycho is on him with a waistlock and stuns the crowd by rolling Byron up in a schoolboy for a 1 - Byron reverses with his own roll for a 1 - 2 - kickout by the Psycho. Byron stays on the mat and applies a front facelock, keeping the Subway Psycho from his feet.] TD: Very nicely done by Byron. He's always a step ahead of the Subway Psycho at every turn, frustrating the former champion... look, right now, look how Byron moves to the neck so swiftly and as the official breaks, Byron is back on the Subway Psycho with the half-crab. SR: Good to see you calling this match right down the middle, Dross. I'm rubbing off on you. TD: You're gonna be rubbing off on those steel steps in about an hour, Steve. [Subway Psycho manuvers out of the hold and is able to bring Byron to the mat with a head scissors. Byron struggles away and both men return to a vertical base. Subway Psycho corner-whips Byron who again hits the buckle, this time as the Psycho again waistlocks, he powers Byron down with a belly-to-back suplex, for a 1-kickout by Byron. Byron is barely able to reach his feet before the Subway Psycho sends him to the mat again with a vicious lariat that sends his fans to their feet. Big pop!] TD: That's where Byron gets hurt here. Steve Roberts, if the Subway Psycho can stay on his feet, he is too strong for the Englishman. [Subway Psycho quickly snaps Byron to his feet and nails him with his own European uppercut, then follows with a neckbreaker that drops Byron to the mat. Subway Psycho is now all over Byron, striking the prone Englishman on the throat with three, four, five quick elbows! Subway Psycho picks up Lord Byron and readies him for a backbreaker but is unable to execute the move as Byron snapmares him into a quick takedown and a 1 - 2 - kickout by Subway Psycho. Byron is up and then down, dropping a quick knee to the back of the left leg and then grapevines the same to a heel pop!] TD: Look how quickly Lord Byron was able to stop the Subway Psycho's momentum, and now he's working that left leg, focusing on the knee. [Byron moves from his grapevine to an elbow drop and then back to the hold, continuing his focus on the knee.] LM: I don't know how much fight the Subway Psycho has left, guys. Lord Byron is really wearing him out! SR: Whatever fight he has is more than we'll see from Ronnie Paris tonight, who's probably halfway to Tijuana by now. Eat the worm for me, widdle Wonnie! TD: I'm betting that's not the first time you've said that, Soundbite. [The crowd is now exhorting the Subway Psycho, stomping its feet as the "People's Champion" fights to a vertical base. The Subway Psycho reaches his feet and rams his elbow to Byron's midsection three times. Byron counters with a big right hand and the Psycho does the same - but with three right hands that send Byron back into the corner. Subway Psycho whips cross-corner but Byron reverses, and the Psycho heads toward the buckle - but is able to stop, leap outside to the apron - and greet a shocked Byron with a clothesline as he hits the corner! The Subway Psycho maintains control of Byron's head and thrusts Byron's neck into the top rope as he leaps from the apron to the outside. Subway Psycho scrambles from the floor up to the top rope as Byron staggers, coming down with his patented double axe to the -- ] TD: NO! Byron caught the Psycho with a shot to the midsection and a snap suplex! Tremendous! [Byron pulls the Subway Psycho to his feet, gives him a big uppercut and an Irish whip, the Psycho reverses and sets up for his running clothesline, Lord Byron counters with a duck under and a crucifix - which the Subway Psycho counters with a big Samoan Drop! Big face pop!] TD: He's going up! He's going up! LM: We're gonna see the De-Railer! [Byron staggers to his feet as Subway Psycho his the top rope... sets... leaps... and is met with a spinning enzuigiri! Heel pop! The Psycho is sent sprawling through the ropes to the outside. Byron quickly follows, yanking away the protective mat to expose the concrete. Byron pulls Subway Psycho to his feet and sets him up...] SR: He's gonna DDT him, Dross! Lord Byron's gonna DDT him on the concrete, I gotta remember this one! [Byron has an exhausted Subway Psycho set up, when out of desperation, the former champion grabs Byron's waist - and mustering his every strength, snap suplexes him over his head and to the floor below! Big pop! As the official leaps to the floor to re-situate the mat, Byron is able to grab his walking-stick and cracks it over the head of the Subway Psycho! He rolls the Psycho quickly into the ring and locks onto the new Aristoclutch! The official returns to the ring to see the hold and looks to the Psycho for the submission! He receives no answer. The official again asks for a submission as Bryon's hold around the neck of the Subway Psycho tightens. No answer. The crowd screams on behalf of their champion, trying to, almost by the sheer force of its own will, revive the Subway Psycho. The official lifts up the Psycho's arm - and drops it. 1... Byron's smirk is now a full grimace, the pain of the hold -- of the evening -- now visibly taking it's toll on him as well. 2... The screams have turned to desparate squeals as the fans seem to feel the hold as the Psycho's proxy. The official raises the Subway Psycho's arm again... And again it falls. 3! Ding! Ding! Ding!] SL: Your winner, by referee's decision, Lord Byron! [Heel pop as Byron continues to apply the hold for several more seconds, before he releases it, less due to the protests of the official as out of sheer exhaustion. He raises a hand to the stunned crowd and exits the ring.] TD: Lord Byron captures maybe the biggest victory of his career here in the IIWF, with a remarkable, although tainted, win over the Subway Psycho, who remains down on the mat. He's not moved. The shot with the walking stick apparently knocked him cold, Steve Roberts. SR: Walking stick? What walking stick was that, Dross? That's the Aristoclutch that did in the Subway Psycho. He gave up right in the middle of the ring! He quit! TD: He did not quit, Steve Roberts. The Subway Psycho was struck over the head with a foreign object -- with that walking stick that Byron carries around! SR: Walking stick?! You want to talk about a walking stick, you're talking about Ronnie Paris. Now there's a "walking stick". Or should I say, "running stick". That toothpick won't get anywhere near the arena tonight, count on it, Dross. TD: The Psycho is being checked on by the official here... He's still very groggy by the looks of things. LM: I wouldn't want to be Lord Byron when the Psycho wakes up, Tim. TD: While the Psycho's helped from the ring, let's go over to Becky LaRue in her Lair. This week's guests are tag team combination the Zodiac Connection. [Becky enters her set. She is about to sit on her couch when she notices something stuck there. Wordlessly she points at it and taps her foot impatiently until the floor manager removes the offending object. She sits, avoiding the spot.] BL: I don't have much to say as way of an intro. My next guests are The Zodiac Connection. [The Zodiacs enter to moderate pop. Becky begins to file her fingernails. Gemini follows behind the wrestlers. Becky sees them, grabs a lock of her own hair and mouths "peroxide" to the camera.] BL: Let's not pull any punches. You guys are pitiful. You haven't even sniffed the championship belt. What's your excuse? TA: [sneering] Miss LaRue, my mother always taught me to be kind to my elders as well as to women. Those are the only two reasons why I haven't already slapped you with the back of my hand. SC: Settle down big man. We haven't agreed to come on this segment to start any trouble with Miss LaRue. We have decided to come on and answer some questions that I am sure Miss LaRue as well as all of the IIWF fans have of us. Now, Miss LaRue, you have asked an important question which definitely needs to be answered. Soon after our arrival we had a chance to compete for the prestigious IIWF World Tag Team Titles. Unfortunately for the Zodiac Connection we didn't get the job done. After that match, we began to look horrible in our tag team matches and the result was of course, we crashed down to the bottom of the tag team rankings at a much faster rate than you have gone through boyfriends. Oh, I am sorry... I didn't come on to this segment to start any trouble. Anyway, my brother and I had been desperate for a new direction in our lives. We had made some adjustments in our training and we began to focus on what we had done wrong. Finally, the night arrived in our lives that brought us Gemini, and as you have been able to see for yourself, we have become a better prepared team, which has led to success in the ring during our past two matches against G.W.R. and Pain, Inc. Do we think we are ready to pursue the IIWF Tag Titles once again? When the stars have determined that the time is right we shall pursue those belts one more time, only this time we will emerge victorious in our quest. BL: [awakening from her slight doze.] Are you guys friends of Joe Petrow? Oh, sorry, of course not. You said that you found Gemini after a vision in the Hollywood Hills. I've been to Hollywood, I know what causes such *ahem* "visions". What's the _real_ story? SC: [looks at Gemini for a second, then switches his view back to Becky] You better be careful about what you say about Gemini. It's not polite to speak to Gemini in such a fashion. These women are everything to us. The perfect combination of beauty and intelligence... which is more than I can say about some of the women who have been corrupting the IIWF lately. BL: I agree completely. This fed has gone way down eveer since Lady DeWinter showed up. You two are studs, surely you could do better than the peroxide pair? TA: [sneering] Scorpio, why is she talking so bad about our managers? SC: [laughing] Relax Taurus, I'll handle this one. Notice what you are saying, Becky. You are assuming a lot about the relationship that Taurus and I may be having with the forces of Gemini. Maybe I should let you keep assuming whatever you may wish to. Maybe there exists a romantic relationship between ourselves and the forces of Gemini. Maybe there is only a professional relationship in existence. Maybe these women are in fact members of our family. Or maybe there is something else going on that would explain the relationship between the forces of Gemini and the Zodiac Connection. [laughs] You know, that's exactly what I am going to do right now. Maybe the time will come when all will be revealed. Maybe our opponents will have to judge this as another unsolved mystery. BL: I notice they aren't named Virgo... You actually believe they bring you luck? SC: [laughing] Luck?! Oh Miss LaRue, if you could only understand the forces that are at work in our lives at this time. And I am not only talking about the lives of the Zodiac Connection. I am talking about all the lives which exist in this world at this exact moment in history. We believe that the stars shall guide us to glory. If you don't believe us, then prepare to be amazed by all which shall be revealed. BL: Uh huh. Okaaay. Let's talk about something else. That name "Taurus". It's just because of your "sign" right? TA: Some of our opponents have found out for themselves why I am named that. Every year in Spain there is a ceremony which I believe is called in English, "The running of the Bulls." Many people travel to Spain from throughout the world to take part in this challenge. Some participants may succeed. Some participants, well let's just say that they were not as fortunate. My job here in the IIWF is to increase the number of opponents who are less fortunate. Allow me to put it to you another way. The people of England unfortunately have to deal with the subject of "Mad Cow disease". Well, the wrestlers in the IIWF may very well be looking at the Maddest Cow of them all. Dealing with this bull could leave some people wishing they were dead. BL: Oh, I feel like I'm dealing with plenty of bull right here. What ever happened to the Zodiac "Wheel of Fate"? TA: Our opponents have been ducking the challenge. With the success that Domination had in our match with them, many people out there realize that their chances for surviving the challenge grow dimmer and dimmer. BL: You guys aren't into mood crystals and alien visitations too, are you? SC: We have respect for those who choose to believe in those items. This past summer we had the opportunity to visit a place in England called Stonehenge. Even you must admit that there are many unanswered questions pertaining to that wonder of the world. It's unfortunate that there are those who choose to ridicule those who believe in crystals as well as aliens. It is rather arrogant for us to believe that we are the only ones within this universe. BL: I'm content in just knowing that it revolves around me. [she tosses her hair back.] Pain Inc. Do you have the guts to face them again? SC: Anyone who has the desire to experience a ride among the stars, and that includes Pain, Inc., feel free to walk up into the offices of the IIWF and sign your names across the dotted line. You can't be a successful team in the IIWF if you are afraid of challenging everybody. BL: Now you're relying on the Armed Forces to protect you? TA: Do I look like somebody who needs to be protected? SC: Armed Forces' arrival during that match left some questions in my head. A few months ago they were one of those who wanted to eliminate teams like the Zodiac Connection... well, what has led them to truly change their mind? We could use the assistance of the Armed Forces as well as anybody else who wishes to follow the path of the righteous. And that includes the mysterious Creed. BL: Is it true that you guys met on the boardwalks of Venice Beach? TA: What makes you ask that question? SC: Silly woman, you expect us to answer that question? It's just another one of those mysteries that the people of the IIWF will have to commit time to should they want the mystery to be solved. BL: I'll just speculate all I like, thanks. Who is Zodiac Connection watching right now? SC: In the tag team scene we always have to watch our backs when dealing with teams such as the Hangmen and the Players' Club. No tag team deserves to be competing in the IIWF if they don't scout the IIWF tag team champions. As far as singles' competition, the name Lord Byron does come to mind. You see, a friend of ours once had a run in a while back in one of the smaller federations and quite frankly, he has been blaming Lord Byron for his wrestling career going to pieces. If there was a way for him to prove that he was worthy of appearing in the IIWF, I don't think you would be able to stop him. That's all I am going to say about that subject but I will say this... if he were to come to the IIWF, a great name for him would definitely be Aries. BL: He's horny, is he? I may have to talk with Spreadbury about a trial contract. Will there ever be another "Zodiac" added to the team? SC: Well, there are those who still remember back when a tag team approached us and wanted to form an alliance with us. They were given the name "Pisces" by Taurus and myself. By the time they had come to the two of us, it was quite apparent that those two individuals were no truly ready to conform to the demands of the Zodiac. Just because you are able to wrestle by the book and have a great appreciation for the fans of this sport... it does not mean that you are able to truly become a member of the Zodiac Connection. Besides Aries I personally can't think of anyone else that would be involved within the Zodiac Connection. BL: What's next? Anything pitiful you'd like to add? TA: Gemini has asked us to present you this. [Hands Becky an envelope] SC: It's a check for $200. We have all heard your comments regarding the adult fan club of yours. Well, Gemini thought it would be best if they paid you not to harass us with all of that mail begging us to join that fan club of yours. TA: Good day, Ma'am! [He laughs] [The four exit, proud of themselves. Becky shrugs, stuffing the cash into her cleavage.] BL: Yet they paid me anyways. I'm not one to draw moral distinctions, but those four really give me the willies. Speaking of willies, J.W. honey, I shined the spurs just like you asked. [She waves at the camera, looks down, sees her other hand is resting on "the spot" and grimaces. The camera cuts back to the announcers.] TD: Up next we have Harlequin Chaos taking on Mr. Damage in a best two out of three falls match. Ever since Mr. Damage appeared to hypnotise Melody in what was probably one of the most bizarre events in IIWF history, apart from Steve Roberts' decision to return to the ring.... SR: You'll be laughing out of the other side of your face, Dross. Just you wait. TD: ...Harlequin Chaos has been something of a loose cannon. In fact, the Harlequins originally wanted this to be a "shock therapy" match. Larry? LM: I'm not really surprised that the IIWF disapproved that stipulation. SR: Yeah, just think of all the little kiddies that are watching. TD: [sighing] Let's go to ringside. =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- TWO OUT OF THREE FALLS MATCH: -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Mr. Damage vs. Harlequin Chaos ------------------------------ WRITER: MP [Sparkplug steps into the ring, looking up uncertainly at the P.A. booth, where Sychosis Joe Petrow is rooting through his bag of tapes.] RA: This contest is a special two-out-of-three falls challenge match, with a forty-five minute time limit. Introducing first, accompanied to the ring by Harlequin Melody, hailing from Melbourne, Australia and weighing in 245lbs, here is... Mr. Daaaaaaaaammmmaaaaagge! [Mr. Damage appears through the curtain and looks up at the PA booth, shaking his head as "Out of the Blue" by Debbie Gibson blares out over the system, before turning and making his way towards the ring.] LM: I can't wait to see what Petrow uses as your entrance music, Steve... [Mr. Damage steps between the ropes and raises his arms to the crowd, who responds with a fair sized heel pop.] RA: And his opponent... hailing from Sleepy Hollow, Illinois and accompanied to the ring by Harlequin Comedy, weighing in at 325lbs, here is Harlequin Chaaaaaaaaaaaaaaoosss!! [The sound of a record scratching blasts out over the PA system, and is immediately followed by ABBA's "Dancing Queen." Comedy appears through the curtains wielding the Happy Hammer, and beckons back for Harlequin Chaos to appear, calmly pushing what looks like a medical table covered with straps and vicious-looking wires and electrodes. Comedy stops Chaos, and, pausing for effect, picks up two wires and touches them together, making sparks fly. The crowd gasp, and the duo continue towards the ring. Mr. Damage immediately turns to the referee to complain.] TD: Uh-oh. It looks like the Harlequins are determined to have their own way... [Chaos wheels the table to ringside. It looks like something out of a horror film. Damage takes one more look at it, then turns to the referee again, demanding that it be removed from ringside. Harlequin Chaos takes this opportunity to enter the ring and jump Damage from behind. The referee dives out of the way, and the bell rings for the match to begin.] SR: This is not good. That thing should be barred from ringside. LM: For once, I agree with Steve. The Harlequins asked and were refused. It's just too dangerous. [In the ring, Chaos has backed Mr. Damage into the corner and unloads with forearm shots and uppercuts... and Mr. Damage stuns him with a facerake, before pushing himself up to the second turnbuckle and taking Chaos down to his knees with a double-axehandle.] TD: Neither man wasting any time here. SR: I'm not surprised. I wouldn't want to end up with electrodes all over my head. Would you? TD: I guess not. [Mr. Damage unloads with a couple of forearm shots to the back of Chaos' head, and then cinches in a headlock while Chaos is on his knees. Chaos pushes himself back to his feet, and backs into the ropes, before whipping Damage across the ring. Damage comes back with a shoulderblock. Big pop!] TD: Oh dear. LM: You're not going to take Chaos down like that. [Damage slowly rises back to his feet, and is met by a headbutt from Chaos. Chaos picks Mr. Damage back up, Irish whips him into the ropes and strikes with a shoulderblock of his own that sends Damage straight back to the canvas with a thud. Damage shakes his head, clearing the cobwebs and Chaos picks him straight back up, before slamming him back to the mat with a body slam. Chaos comes of the ropes with an elbowdrop... and Damage rolls out of the way. As Chaos gets up, Mr. Damage comes off the ropes himself, catching Chaos' head with a brutal spinning neckbreaker - a cover - 1 - Chaos kicks out with force, sending Mr. Damage flying back. Damage rolls to his feet, and catches Chaos as he rises with a flying lariat that sends him back to the mat hard. Mr. Damage rolls to his knees, and locks Chaos into a reverse chinlock.] TD: Intelligent wrestling here by Damage. He wants to keep Chaos down on the canvas where his strength is much less a factor... [Damage pulls Chaos' shoulders down towards the canvas, and into a pinning predicament - 1 - 2 - Chaos twists out of it. Damage releases the chinlock, and starts stomping away at Chaos' face.] TD: And here we see his brutal side as well. SR: Yeah. I hope that Paris kid is taking notes.... [Chaos rolls on the canvas, and Damage drops a legdrop across the back of his neck... Damage drags Chaos to his feet by the hair, and tries to lift Chaos up for a backbreaker... but Chaos catches him in a small package! 1 - 2 - ] TD: Kickout by Damage! And he does not look pleased! [Damage starts another series of kicks on the Harlequin, before picking him back to his feet and whipping him into the turnbuckle hard. Damage follows up with a reversed avalanche into the buckle, and the Harlequin staggers out, dropping to his knees... Damage climbs to the second turnbuckle again, and knocks Chaos to the floor with another axehandle... Comedy begins cheering her man on...] TD: Chaos really needs to start putting some offence into this match. [Damage grabs hold of Chaos' foot, grins around at the crowd, and locks in the Accelerator to a big heel pop.] TD: And Chaos doesn't look too impressed by that. [Chaos kicks Mr. Damage off, and pushes to his feet. Damage comes back with a forearm shot, and a European uppercut that backs Chaos into the corner. Damage climbs onto the second turnbuckle and starts smashing away at Chaos' head with fists and forearm shots. The Harlequin grabs his legs, and lifts him off the turnbuckle and out of the corner, before planting him into the centre of the ring with a crushing spinebuster! Big pop!] TD: And that took the wind out of Damage! LM: Chaos needs to follow it up quickly though... [Chaos pulls Damage back to his feet, and Damage responds with a few weak body shots. Chaos nails Damage with a headbutt, grapevines his leg and slams him back into the canvas with a side Russian legsweep! The cover! 1 - 2 - kickout by Damage! Chaos pulls Damage up again, and is greeted by a thumb to the eye! Damage staggers Chaos back with a European uppercut and runs to the ropes, only to get caught on the rebound by a big powerslam! Another cover! 1 - 2 - kickout again! Chaos gets to his feet and comes off the ropes with a big elbowdrop - 1 - 2 - another kickout! He picks Damage up and sends him into the ropes with another Irish whip...] TD: No! Reversed by Damage! Both men off the ropes! [On the outside, Comedy grabs hold of Damage's foot, and he stops dead, turning to yell at her. Chaos comes back, and pulls Damage backwards into a reverse cradle... the referee's in position - 1 - 2 - ] TD: Three! He got him! SR: What a rip-off! Comedy interfered! [Both men don't wait for the bell to ring, and begin slugging it out in the centre of the ring.] RA: The winner of the first fall: Harlequin Chaaaaaooooss!! [Big pop! Both men are going wild in the middle of the ring. Chaos starts to take the advantage with some forearm shots, and Damage retaliates with a kick to the midsection and a series of European uppercuts, backing the big man into the ropes. He sends the Harlequin for the ride, puts his head down for a backdrop, and Chaos stops short, dropping an elbow across his neck. Wasting no time, he picks Damage back to his feet, and twists his head around, dropping him into a reverse neckbreaker. The cover - 1 - 2 - kickout by Mr. Damage.] TD: Both men are starting to look pretty tired in there. This next fall could come pretty quickly. [Chaos picks Mr. Damage up, and locks him into position for a powerbomb. Mr. Damage blocks it, and backdrops Chaos to the canvas.] LM: Good reversal by Mr. Damage, but it took a lot out of him... [Chaos is the first to recover, and makes his way towards Mr. Damage, who has backed himself into a corner. As Chaos approaches, Damage lifts himself up with the help of the turnbuckles, and attempts a kick at Chaos' midsection. Chaos catches it, and throws him back into the corner, before crushing him into it with a kick of his own, and then an elbowsmash. He whips Damage across the ring and into the opposite corner, before charging in himself.] SR: Yes! Damage got his foot up! That stopped that moron dead in his tracks! [As Chaos staggers backwards out of the corner, Damage runs out after him, taking the big man to the floor with a bulldog. The cover - 1 - 2 - Chaos kicks out weakly. Damage pulls Chaos back up, and lifts him into position for a backbreaker.] TD: He's tried this once already... [Damage manages to execute the backbreaker, and lifts up Chaos' legs, kicking him in the lower abdomen. Chaos rolls in pain, and Damage drops an elbowdrop across his neck. He pulls him into a pinning position, hooking the leg... 1 - 2 - kickout by Chaos. Damage picks him up again, this time hooking him in a waistlock, and slamming him to the canvas with a big back suplex. On the outside, Comedy, who has been pacing anxiously, drops the Happy Hammer and makes her way over to Sparkplug.] TD: Comedy's asking for the microphone... SR: Great. Just what we needed. [In the ring, Damage rolls Chaos over and drops a series of elbows across his back, before lifting him into a camel clutch. Comedy makes her way around the ring so she's facing him.] COMEDY: Hey Damage! [Damage looks out at her and frowns, but doesn't release the hold...] COMEDY: Yeah you, the guy who looks like a crocodile and a kangaroo had children! [Crowd pop] I got a little reading for you. Oh I forgot, you can't read! [Crowd pop] Don't worry, I'll read it to you. [Pulls out a book] This is Melody's old psyche book from college. You'll like this part here. Ahem.... "Though there have been many unfounded reports of peoples' wills being usurped, the fact of the matter is that a person can not be made to perform any actions unless they wish to do so willingly. Such an individual usually does so in order to accomplish a further goal, whether it be for the entertainment of others, or for a more underhanded purpose. In either case, it is IMPOSSIBLE to hypnotise an unwilling subject" In other words... GOTCHA, SUCKER! [A look of realisation dawns on Mr. Damage's face, and there's a big crowd pop as Harlequin Melody rolls into the ring with the Happy Hammer.] SR: That's a disqualification right there! [Damage lets go of the hold, and turns, to get caught right in the jaw by a blow from the Happy Hammer. There's a loud squeak, and he drops to the canvas like a sack of potatoes. Big pop! Melody rolls back out of the ring, and the referee calls for the bell.] RA: The winner of the second fall, Mr. Daaaammmaaagggge! [Heel pop!] [Chaos pulls himself back to his feet and moves over to cover the stunned Mr. Damage.] TD: This one could be over quickly... SR: That's not fair! [Chaos covers him and hooks the leg - 1 - 2 - kickout at the last second by Damage! Chaos sits back and shakes his head, before pulling Damage back to his feet and lifting him up in a big vertical suplex. Instead of making the cover, Chaos turns to the turnbuckles and starts to climb them.] LM: If he hits this, it's going to be goodnight for Mr. Damage... SR: No kidding. Get up Damage! [Chaos reaches the top turnbuckle, and launches himself backwards in an impressive moonsault... but Damage brings his knees up at the last second, and Chaos rolls away, clutching his ribs.] TD: Now both men are in trouble again. [Damage staggers to his feet, and moves over to cover the prone Chaos - 1 - 2 - kickout! Now it's Damage's turn to shake his head in disbelief. He picks the dazed Harlequin up, and sends him back to the canvas with a gutwrench suplex - Damage goes to the ropes, and comes back with a body splash! He hooks the leg - 1 - 2 - kickout by Chaos again!] LM: Incredible. Both men are really taking it to the limit here... SR: Like I said, would you want electrodes strapped to your head? LM: Well, no... [Damage tries to pick Chaos up again, and finds himself caught in an inside cradle - 1 - 2 - kickout! Both men stagger up, and Chaos grabs Damage's arm and smashes him to the floor with a short clothesline! Big pop! Chaos rolls over Mr. Damage - 1 - 2 - kickout again!] TD: Sloppy cover... he could have had him there. [Chaos whips Damage into the ropes, and comes off himself... and both men catch each other with a clothesline! Big pop! Damage rolls over, clutching his head, while Chaos remains motionless.] TD: I think Chaos took the worst of that.... SR: Come on Damage! Get up! Cover him! [Damage rolls to his knees, and looks over at the stunned Harlequin. He staggers over, and starts to pull Chaos to his feet.] SR: What's he doing?! Cover him! [Damage locks Chaos into a facelock, and sends him crashing headfirst into the mat with a snap DDT! Big heel pop! Damage rises to his feet again, and staggers towards the corner... Harlequin Tragedy bursts through the curtain at the back and starts running down the aisle to a big pop.] SR: It's four against one! This isn't fair! TD: Calm down Steve. LM: You'll need all your energy later. SR: Shut up! [Damage starts to climb the turnbuckles, and gives the signal for the Thunderstruck legdrop. Harlequin Tragedy leaps to the ring apron and shakes the ropes, causing Damage to drop to the outside... the referee signals for the bell...] SR: Yes! Damage wins! [Melody rolls back into the ring and starts to revive Chaos, and on the outside, Tragedy drops back to the arena floor and makes his way towards Mr. Damage.] SR: Hold on, what are they doing? TD: This could be trouble here... [Tragedy picks up Mr. Damage, and begins to drag him over towards the electro-shock table... Chaos staggers to his feet in the ring, and then climbs outside to help his brother... the official leaps out of the ring and tries to get between the vengeful Harlequins and the table, but Chaos pushes him out of the way.] SR: Where's security? Where's those stupid jobbers? Mr. Damage needs help out here! [Both the Harlequins push Mr. Damage, who has now recovered enough to realise what's happening, onto the table, and Chaos holds his arms down while Tragedy starts to strap him down. Suddenly there's a big heel pop as Otto Verhoeven and Cheshire start to run down the aisle. Verhoeven is carrying a chair.] SR: At last! TD: It may be too late, Steve.... [Tragedy starts fixing electrodes to Damage's head, while Chaos takes hold of the starter lever. Just as he's about to release the charge, Verhoeven and Cheshire hit ringside and Verhoeven lays Chaos out with a shot from the chair. Cheshire catches Tragedy with a superkick, and Verhoeven leaves the flattened Chaos to help. Damage manages to rip one arm free of the straps, and tears himself off the table. He picks up Chaos, and drags him over to the table, and starts affixing the electrodes to his head. Comedy and Melody try to stop him, but he throws them off... Verhoeven chokeslams Tragedy on the outside, and Cheshire holds Melody back as Damage reaches for the starter lever.] SR: Yes! Do it! [There's a crackle, and a gasp from ringside as Chaos' body starts to convulse. Verhoeven and Cheshire release the female Harlequins, who rush to check on the fallen Chaos. Verhoeven, Cheshire and the victorious Mr. Damage head back up the aisle to a huge heel pop.] TD: Well, quite a victory for Mr. Damage there! But who knows what kind of damage -- so to speak -- has been done to Chaos. SR: Live by the sword, die by the sword, Dross. TD: While the Harlequins clear the ringside area, let's go to some comments from the Hangmen, who will be facing Josey Wales' Posse in six-man tag team action. [Cut to pretaped footage of the Hangmen standing together in a darkened corner of the locker rooms. One of the trio speaks:] TH: Mr. Wales, we have a little surprise in store for you tonight. Pay attention -- an old friend of yours is going to make a special, or is it, appearance here. This friend has heard and seen what has been going on, and has decided that the time is right for him to make his presence known to you and the rest of the IIWF. Enough said for now, but remember -- pay attention. [Cut back to ringside.] TD: I wonder what the Hangmen's surprise could be? LM: Let's go up to Sparkplug Lee and find out what's going to happen in this wild six man... SR: I don't care to take part in your devious sexual conquests, Moron. TD: You're awful. That's not what he meant at all. SR: Whatever. Just save your breath -- hold off on this wild "six man" until after I'm done with Ronnie Paris, alright? I don't want to have to see it. TD: Dang it, knock it off. SR: Let's go to Sparkplug Lee, a man who's probably taking part in the six man later on tonight... =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- SIX-MAN TAG TEAM MATCH: -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Venusian Death Cell & High Plains Drifters vs. The Hangmen ---------------------------------------------------------- WRITER: NN ["Don't Fear the Reaper" by the Blue Oyster Cult plays.] SR: Kowalski's in this match?! Alright... go Fury! TD: No, you idiot... that's just Petrow being a jerk. SR: Oh. RA: Introducing first, at a combined weight of 1037 pounds... making their way down the aisle... Hangman #1, Hangman #2, and _The_ Hangman... the team known as the Hangmen! [The three Hangmen make their way down the aisle, unaffected by the change of their music. The Hangman leads the way, dragging his hangman's noose. The only way to tell the Hangman from the other two is the gold rope embroidered on the leg of his pants. All are wearing executioners' outfits and masks. The crowd greets them with a good heel pop.] TD: How original... three guys, all of which have the word "Hangman" in their names, and they're called the Hangmen. SR: These guys are quite interesting, all of them wearing their masks... I can never tell them apart, save the fact that the original "Hangman" is donning the rope on the leg. RA: Now introducing their opponents. First, from Venus... at 6'5", 332 pounds, the Venusian Death Cell. His tag team partners tonight, accompanied to the ring by the "Outlaw" Josey Wales... at a combined weight of 502 pounds... Easy Rider, Pale Rider... the team of the High Plains Drifters! [Petrow's selection for their theme music turns out to be "Don't Worry Be Happy" by Bobby McFerrin. The Drifters come through the curtain with Josey Wales, obviously perturbed by the change of tunes. Pale is swinging his arms at the crowd, but Wales is able to calm them down. The Venusian Death Cell isn't far behind, wearing his dark green mask and trunks, along with a green robe. The crowd lets out a huge heel pop as the Cell lifts his arms up.] TD: Here’s another masked man -- and a really strange combo... the High Plains Drifters, two time IIWF World Tag Team Champions, and the Venusian Death Cell, who seems to be one of the craziest men in the world... or universe. SR: I bet that fairy Morton is in it with you... TD: What? SR: Your wild six man... TD: I don’t want to hear about that again. SR: Okay, but like, if I guess the people involved, would you tell me if I were right? TD: The Venusian Death Cell in the ring for his team... taking off his robe... to square off against one of the Hangmen... obviously. SR: Marty Warnett... yeah, he’s got to be in there. TD: Shut up! [The Venusian Death Cell starts off, against Hangman #2. They lock up in the center of the ring, and the Cell is able to force Hangman #2 into the corner. The Cell charges in with a quick forearm to the throat, and the Hangman puts his arms up on the ropes to prevent a fall. VDC follows up with a suplex. Heel pop. Cover - 1 - 2 - kickout. The Cell is up slow, and the Hangman is able to charge in, but VDC quickly drops down and executes an arm drag.] SR: Look at the technique by the Cell, Dross. A beautiful shot to the mouth followed by a suplex and a nice arm drag. TD: Oh, yeah, he’s reinventing the fireman’s carry. [The Hangman is able to get back to his feet, and whip the Cell to the ropes. The Cell comes off and hits a quick clothesline on Hangman #2. Cover again - 1 - 2 - kickout. The Cell picks him up and tries for a body slam, but the big man proves to be too heavy, and Hangman #2 is able to counter with a gutwrench suplex. He covers - 1 - 2 - kickout. Hangman #2 hops up and tags to another Hangman.] SR: Tag to himself... TD: This is the tallest of the Hangmen... must be the one known as Hangman #1. He has about one inch and five pounds on the other one... and it is not too tough to tell _The_ Hangman apart, as he is very tall but much more lean. [Hangman #1 comes into the ring and picks VDC up by the hair. He sends the Cell for the ride, but it is quickly reversed, and Hangman #1 goes to the ropes. The Venusian Death Cell sets up for the back body drop, but the Hangman puts on the breaks and delivers a kick to the masked face. As the Cell stumbles backward, the Hangman charges in with a quick lariat. He covers - 1 - 2 - kickout. Suddenly, a slight murmur arises from the crowd, but nothing too serious.] SR: Who’s on their way? TD: It’s probably Ronnie Paris. SR: Where? Where’s Ronnie? [Soon, everyone sees the man, an unidentifiable one, walking down to the ringside table. He sits next to Tim Dross and watches the match.] TD: Excuse me? Do I know you? [The man says nothing, but watches as Hangman #1 is able to execute a devastating piledriver on the Venusian Death Cell. He tags to The Hangman, who comes into the ring. As Hangman #1 holds VDC by the legs, The Hangman bounces off the ropes and executes a big splash. He hooks a leg - 1 - 2 - Pale Rider comes charging into the ring, breaking the count.] TD: [whispering to Roberts] You know, he kinda looks a bit like the Senator. SR: The Senator, God bless _his_ soul... what a shame that had to happen. [As the ref tries to restrain Pale Rider, the Hangmen seize the opportunity, both of them jumping into the ring. As The Hangman holds the Cell up, Hangmen #1 and #2 pound away at his midsection. This just infuriates the Drifters even more so. As the Cell slumps to the canvas, the referee turns around to see three Hangmen standing over him. The ref forces two of them out of the ring at random, leaving Hangman #1 in there again. Number One covers - 1 - 2 - this time Pale is able to make the save. The Hangman enters the ring and tries to go after Pale, but Josey Wales reaches through the ropes and trips him. Heel pop!] TD: There’s Josey interfering again... SR: That’s why the Hangmen needed the Senator. He could counter all the antics of other managers. TD: Maybe if those three Hangmen would play fair... SR: Play fair? Like in the sandbox in preschool? Ha! [The Hangman rolls out of the ring, not knowing what hit him. Hangman #1 grabs the Death Cell and tags to Hangman #2, who takes advantage of the Cell position, booting him in the midsection. #2 whips the Cell to the buckle.] TD: Shouldn’t throw the Cell to his own corner like this... it could cost him... SR: Chris Quigley? TD: Huh? [Hangman #2 picks up the Cell and flips him over, setting him up on his shoulder. #2 spits at the Drifters, and turns his back on them. He sets to execute a tombstone piledriver, but cannot bring him down to the canvas. Pale Rider has gotten his long arm on the leg of the Cell, and Hangman #2 begins to stumble backwards. The Venusian Death Cell, aided by Pale, reverses the hold, and brings Hangman #2 down to the canvas with a tombstone of his own. Big heel pop!] TD: The door is open for the Venusian Death Cell... all he has to do is reach up and make the tag... SR: He can’t even see... with that mask in the way, and the shot he just took... [Hangman #2 inches toward the corner, struggling the whole way. As the two Hangmen reach down over the top rope for the tag, the Death Cell begins to stir. Hangman #2 makes the tag, and The Hangman comes in. As he stalks across the ring, the Cell reaches up and makes the tag. Pale quickly hops up and nails The Hangman with a springboard clothesline!] TD: The former tag team champions finally get the tag! [Pale quickly scoops the big man back up and sends him to the ropes. The Hangman walks right into a drop kick from the smallest man in the match, Pale Rider. The Venusian Death Cell rolls out of the ring and plops to the floor. Pale hooks the big man’s leg in a grapevine, and reaches out to Easy for the tag.] SR: Big trouble for The Hangman, Dross. This Easy is as tough as they come. [With Pale holding The Hangman, Easy is able to drop a big leg across his chest. Pale jerks on the man’s ankle once, before heading over to the Hangmen’s corner, taunting them. This draws the two Hangmen into the ring, allowing Josey Wales to choke the life out of The Hangman as the referee’s attention is averted to the big duo. Pale then sprints across the ring, and sends both Hangmen flying over the top rope with a tremendous running double clothesline!!!] TD: Did you see that? Pale just dumped over 700 pounds over the top rope! He was outweighed by three times there! SR: High impact maneuver sent both men to the outside... expect Paris to be laying in that exact same spot on the floor later on, Dross. [The chant of “H - P - D! H - P - D!” begins to echo throughout the arena. However, from the back, the team of Domination, Mr. Psycho and Monster, see the opportunity and take off for the ring. They immediately target the fallen Venusian Death Cell and begin hammering away. In the ring, Easy executes an inverted atomic drop, still not noticing the trouble on the outside. The Hangman gets stunned, and Easy sneaks behind him, ducks, and tries to lift him on his shoulders.] SR: He will never be able to do it... over 300 pounds? [Easy is able to hoist The Hangman up onto his shoulders, and he tags out to Pale. Pale climbs the top rope, pointing to Josey Wales, who nods in approval.] TD: The Hang ‘Em High Clothesline! It’s all over for the Hangmen... [Hangman #1 pulls himself up onto the apron, trying to get into the ring. As Pale perches himself, he hears a loud “CLANG” sound. He looks down, and sees Monster standing over the Cell with a chair in hand. Pale says something to Easy, who just drops the Hangman back on his head, before Pale comes flying off the top rope and lands on Monster with an incredible plancha! Pop!] SR: Did you see that?! TD: What a move... and now we’ve got a fight! [Easy jumps off the apron and attacks Mr. Psycho. Psycho is unable to stave off the charge, and is taken to the floor. Easy begins to choke him. In the ring, Hangman #1 drags The Hangman out of the ring, and takes his place. As Domination and the Drifters brawl, the referee counts - 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 -] SR: Wait, no, The Hangman isn’t in the ring either! This should be a double countout... [6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - 10! Ding! Ding! Ding! The fight goes on, until Domination is able to escape, running back up the aisle.] RA: The referee has counted Pale Rider out of the ring... the decision... the winners, as a result of a countout are the Hangmen! [The Hangman don't stay long to celebrate their victory, instead leaving the ring and shaking hands with the unnamed man at the broadcast table. The four men then leave together.] LM: Was that...? TD: Could it have been...? SR: Oh, get with the plot, you two. TD: Well, I'm sure we'll get to the bottom of that little mystery in time. For now, let's go to some pretaped comments from the Players' Club, who'll be hooking up with the Armed Forces in just a few minutes. [Cut to footage filmed with a camcorder subtitled, "Earlier This Week." An interview podium is set up next to the aisle in the Coliseum. "Nuttin' but a "G" thang" by Snoop Doggy Dogg and Dr. Dre plays as the Players' Club walk out to a sizable heel pop.] DDD: [grabbing the mic] Cut the music. First thing's first. To the people who think _I_ hide behind the front offices and behind _MY_ tag team partner, or _any_ member of The Players' Club. Yeah, this is for YOU Quigley. Daniel Dynamite hides behind NOONE! I was winning titles and whipping ass when you were trying to figure out how to take the childproof tops off bottles of aspirin. Quigley, it doesn't matter if it's IIWF, FWLI, or whatever fed you wanna lock up in. Mark my words: I will RUN YOU OUT of wrestling, FOR GOOD! You're a marked man now. Don't think for a minute I can't or won't come and kick your ass, 'cause I will. And speaking of "asses"... Ol' Broadway Joe.. Shooting more blanks, eh Broadway? Making threats and promises you can't keep? You GIVING us the IIWF tag titles is the only way we can get them? Is that so? Well, Broadway.. At least the PC isn't BLACKBALLED in any type of federation! You wanna talk about how people can only win titles? Myself and Micheal don't need to go and become our own commissioner in a defunct fed just to get a title. [Dynamite pulls out a briefcase, opens it to reveal a championship belt.] You see THIS? [holds up the belt] This is the faux-RSPCW Japan Title. Ol' Broadway Joe, you should know what this piece of tin is. Admit it Joe, the ONLY way you could get back in RSPCW was to go and RUIN the name of that great fed. I did what I thought was the right choice, by asking and talking with people to TRY and help you back into the feds you weren't welcome in. The past is the past. The great words of "Don't let our egos get in the way of success" was what I went by. Joe, seems you STILL have your ego, and THAT, my friend, will be your falling point. You say you want a shot at Kauffman. Well, what happens if you don't get that shot, Joe? We gonna see another bitch fit thrown and you leave? Only to return in about five months. Joe, The Players' Club is the BEST thing that could EVER happen to you... pass up the bullet train... just don't get stuck on the tracks, 'cause we -- I -- will run your sorry ass over. [Danny and Michael pull out the IIWF tag belts.] Dark Disciples... You want these back? You want your precious titles back? COME AND GET 'EM! Armed Forces, you may have one up on us, but when we meet again, it WILL be different. You're going down. Nothing you can say will change that. Quigley, Petrow... You're all WANTING me to come back in singles huh? That may happen in time. But for now, I am with the best tag partner, and in the BEST tag team in ANY federation... WE ARE THE PLAYERS' CLUB! Simply the best, no doubt... and sooner or later, we will be YOUR champs.. IIWF, we have the belts, it's time for us to be called the champs, and if we have to put out every team in the IIWF, we will. [Danny drops the mic and the two men leave to jeers. Cut back to ringside.] TD: Another eventful night at the IIWF Coliseum as we teeter ever closer to the moment of truth for one of broadcast colleagues. LM: Aw, that's nice Tim. You remembered my birthday. SR: Dammit Morton, this isn't a leap year, we've been over this before. TD: Actually Larry, I was referring to our friend Steve's upcoming bout with Ronnie Paris. SR: Two words, boys: Asai Moonsault. TD: [pauses to stifle a chuckle] Let's go back to ringside. =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- Armed Forces vs. The Players' Club -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= WRITER: JJ [Sparkplug Lee discards a crumpled up pink "Quickstrike Rules" sign which had been tossed in the ring.] SL: Our next contest is set for one fall. Introducing first, accompanied to the ring by the IIWF Heavyweight Champion, Dan "Flash" Kauffman; at a combined weight of 470lbs, here are "Desirable" Danny Dynamite and Michael "The Maverick" Reyna, The Players' Club! [Mixed pop as the P.C. hits the aisle to "Entrance of the Clown", Kauffman gives a mildly annoyed look in the direction of Joe Petrow's commandeered booth and then situates the charred IIWF Tag belts over his right shoulder.] LM: The tag team champions of the world -- The Players' Club! SR: Pay attention Larry, they stole those belts from the High Planes Drifters. LM: Is Dan Kauffman still Heavyweight Champ? TD: Actually, J.W. Hardin is currently in possession of the IIWF Championship belt -- by way of Casey James -- and, in fact, the Dark Disciples are tag team champions. LM: The Outlaw is heavyweight champ again! That's a huge story, do the people know about this? SR: Have you been drinking again, Larry? TD: Let's get back to ringside. SL: Their opponents, hailing from Omaha, Nebraska, at a combined weight of 643 lbs., the former IIWF Tag Team Champions, NavCom, DefCon -- The Armed Forces! [Nice face pop as the Armed Forces begin their walk to ringside while David St. Hubbins and the boys from Spinal Tap's "Stonehenge" blares through the Coliseum, seemingly one notch louder than anyone else's entrance music.] SR: It's a sad day when I find myself almost rooting for the Players' Club over the Armed Forces. These guys used to be champs, now they're getting cheered by these morons. TD: "Almost" rooting, Soundbite? Still holding on to that animosity toward Dan Kauffman? SR: Nah, I just don't care about the match. I'm thinking about my moonsault. [NavCom and Dynamite are set to start, but Danny eschews the lock up and instead walks over to DefCon and offers his right hand. The big man looks to the crowd which ardently signals that he should not trust the gesture -- but DefCon reciprocates and the two men exchange a hearty handshake! Dynamite gives DefCon a playful chuck to the tricep and moves to the middle of the ring. Surprised pop from the crowd!] TD: Maybe we're seeing a little change in the demeanor of the Players' Club. SR: This is sickening. What do these guys think this is, Yahtzee? This is the IIWF, where only men and Ronnie paris need apply. [Dynamite turns to NavCom, thrusts his right hand forward - and dropkicks the accepting NavCom to the mat! NavCom is quickly up and staggers back to the corner. Dynamite charges, ducking an elbow from the waiting serviceman and responding with his own reverse knife edge. Dynamite hops to the midrope and lands three quick right hands to the head. Heel Pop! NavCom bores his way out of the corner, carrying Dynamite to the middle of the ring for a big atomic drop. Dynamite staggers to his corner and tags in Reyna who charges NavCom and is clotheslined to the mat for his trouble. Pop! NavCom drops two quick knees to Reyna's right hamstring and then pulls the Maverick up to whip him to the Armed Forces' corner. NavCom charges -- but Reyna is able to back leapfrog over him and snap a superkick -- which NavCom slips, tagging DefCon, who whips Reyna hard farside... and into a double big boot by the Armed Forces! Dynamite runs in, is sent for the ride by DefCon and winds up the victim of a double clothesline! Big pop as the P.C. rolls outside to regroup!] TD: The Armed Forces not only don't seem to have lost anything, Steve Roberts, I don't recall them ever working together more ably, even when they held the gold. SR: Their day is done, Dross, like Ronnie Paris it's only a matter of time before someone turns out the lights, tucks them in and gives them two quick kisses on the forehead. TD: You do know we're on the air, don't you Steve? SR: Two words, Dross. Two words. TD: I know, Asai moonsault. SR: That too, but those weren't the particular two I had in mind. [Dynamite and Reyna confer w/ Kauffman on the outside while NavCom takes his place as the new legal man. Reyna enters and the two lock up. NavCom applies a standing side headlock but Reyna quickly counters with a nice drop toe hold. Reyna dives over for his own headlock but NavCom is able to apply a hammerlock takedown. Reyna reverses into a small package for 1-kickout and both men are up into an Irish whip by Reyna. The Maverick drops down too quickly and NavCom goes to the mat to chop the throat and then is up for a DDT... which he does not get to execute as Dynamite ihas come off the top rope and nailed NavCom with a double axe to the head! Pop! DefCon looks to enter but is blocked by the official and the PC takes the opportunity to double team. Dynamite whips NavCom who reverses into a duck under and then back again - into a spinebuster by Reyna! Reyna quickly tags and Dynamite drops a midrope elbow to the throat and covers... 1 - 2 -- save by DefCon! The official forces DefCon back and Reyna is back in with a fast armdrag takedown into a wristlock. Dynamite sneaks in a quick stomp to the head as Reyna converts the hold to an armbar, wrenching the shoulder of NavCom and exposing his ribs to Dynamite, who tags in and delivers a series of boots before relinquishing to his partner - who resumes the hold.] SR: Now we're seeing teamwork, Dross. The Players' Club has clearly surprised the Armed Forces with their success at cutting the ring in half. Credit has to go to Kauffman on the outiside. Man, things are getting strange around here. [DefCon starts stomping his feet on the outside, leading the crowd in encouraging NavCom back to his feet, the big serviceman fights his way up and breaks the hold with two sharp elbows to the midsection. NavCom whips Reyna farside, Reyna ducks a clothesline and tags in Dynamite who leaps to the ring and attempts a hiptoss... NavCom blocks. Dynamite tries again and NavCom reverses into a backslide... 1 - No... Both men are up and Dynamite corner-whips NavCom... into the wrong corner. DefCon stops his partner's momentum and makes the tag. Dynamite is backing up now, trying to appease the big man whom he had "befriended" not so long ago. Big pop as DefCon approaches the now begging Dynamite and whips him farside. Dynamite reverses and goes for the flying cross body -- and is caught in midair by DefCon. DefCon flips him over... Piledriver. DefCon moves to cover 1-2-save by Reyna whose boot only irritates the big man. DefCon scoop slams the Maverick and then does the same to his partner. Big face pop! DefCon drags Dynamite to his feet and Irish whips him into a short clothesline, while an entering NavCom attemps the same farside with Reyna...] TD: NavCom stumbles... did Kauffman grab his foot? Did Dan Kauffman just grab NavCom's foot? SR: I sure hope so, Dross! [The cause aside, NavCom was not ready for the approaching Reyna who hit him with a flying forearm! All four men are in the ring now as the official struggles to maintain some kind of order when there is a disturbance in the aisle...] TD: It's Casey "Blackheart" James! Casey James is on his way to ringside and now Dan Kauffman's on his way to head him off! [Kauffman and James stand nose to nose at the bottom of the aisle. Each man doing some serious jawing while the match has degenerated into a four man brawl. DefCon and Reyna are slugging it out, the smaller Maverick not unexpectedly getting the worse of the exchange. Dynamite however has managed to get NavCom off his feet and is climbing to the top rope looking for the shooting star press...] TD: HERE COME THE DARK DISCIPLES!! SR: Yes! Yes! We're gonna see a turf war now, Dross. Forget what I said about Kauffman -- he's about to get his handed back to him! [Kane and Wulf are all over Kauffman, the tag champs joining James in an all out assault on the IIWF Champ. Dynamite and Reyna leap from the ring and the six men are all over ringside. Reyna hits Wulf in the back with one of the Tag belts while James is choking Kauffman out over the retaining barrier. Dynamite and Kane are throwing right hands while simultaneously... Ding! Ding! Ding!] SL: The winners of this match, as the result of a countout, The Armed Forces! [Face pop for DefCon and NavCom who are able to leave the ring and head back to the dressing room victorious, unscathed by the carnage at ringside...which is now spilling into the ring as Tiger Claw has joined his compatriots with a top rope leap onto the back of Kauffman, now giving the Syndicate a man advantage as all seven men are in wildly brawling throughtout the ring. Kauffman fights back bravely, knocking Tiger Claw to the ground, but is then met by the giant paw of the huge Wulf...] SR: Chokeslam him! Chokeslam that son of a... [Huge pop from the fans near the aisle] TD: Look at this! Look at this! It's J.W. HARDIN AND BRODY THUNDER! SR: Get him! Get him! Somebody get somebody! [Hardin swings the IIWF Championship belt and cracks Wulf hard over the back - breaking the hold he had on Kauffman! Big Pop! Thunder throws Kane out over the top rope and James is met with a superkick by Reyna - taking him over. Kane rolls his partner out of the ring, and the crowd is on it's feet with a monstrous roar as the three men stand outside the ring, leaving only Tiger Claw to fend for himself against the five man onslaught!! Kauffman picks the Claw to his feet and easily clotheslines him outside, where he follows the rest of the Syndicate up the aisle in a hasty retreat. The five men stand alone in the ring. Now the mood of the crowd changes, the roar fading into an expectant, uneasy buzz. Hardin stands beside Thunder in the ring, looking across at the Players' Club, who stand their ground. The Outlaw shifts the IIWF World Heavyweight Championship belt to his left shoulder and calls for the ring mic, almost tearing it from Sparkplug Lee's hand. The crowd silences as he addresses the Players' Club, but seems to speak directly to Kauffman.] JWH: Long time no see... champ. This is a night I never thought I'd see -- J.W. Hardin helpin' to save Dan Kauffman's hide. I reckon I just got all teary-eyed watchin' yer farewell speech last night that we couldn't let them Disciple hombres do too much damage. Call it an early goin' away present, huh? But you see, I've been talkin' to the big man Brody Thunder here [he lifts a thumb at Thunder] and he tells me you ain't the same Dan Kauffman that was here four months ago. He tells me you finally started usin' some Outlaw tactics to win some matches an' that you hombres busted up Quigley pretty good. I reckon ever'one comes to their senses after awhile... ever'one that is, except Brian Lau. I reckon I don't really care about the fans [big heel pop] like you always have, Kauffman. But we both have always had one thing in common -- the desire to win. An' it seems we've got another thing in common now -- the Syndicate... Tiger Claw, Casey James, the Dark Disciples, an' that little runt Lau. Lord knows we ain't never gotten along, Kauffman, but there's one thing ya learn after years alone on the prairie... there's strength in numbers. Tell 'em, Lone Wolf. [Big pop as Brody Thunder takes the microphone from Hardin and looks directly at the Players' Club.] BT: I'm gonna make this plain an' simple, "Flash". You boys don't like Lau an' his dogs an' neither do we. Question is... whaddaya gonna do about it? Now we can all keep bangin' our heads against the wall... or TOGETHER we can plant their collective carcasses six feet deep! Now I ain't been much fer teammates, I'll admit that, but Hoss here says you boys want their hides as much as we do an' that yer smart enough to see a golden opportunity when it's given to ya. I guess we'll see soon enough. [Kauffman continues to stare at Thunder and Hardin, his arms crossed] If ya think we're jokin' take a another look. We ain't laughin'. I'm as serious as a heart attack [Thunder points at Hardin] an' he's twice as bad. We ain't just out here fer our health. You can either be part o' the problem... or part o' the solution. It's yer choice. This is a chance to bring down the whole damn Syndicate. All ya gotta do is step up to the plate. After that, we all go our sep'rate ways again. Ball's in yer court fellas. [Hardin takes the mic back from Thunder.] JWH: Politics may make strange bedfellers, but the IIWF makes strange alliances. Don't git me wrong, Kauffman, I still don't like you. But Thunder called me here to help him out of a situation and I'm lookin' at the easiest way to do it. We're all huntin' the same rats, an' it looks like y'all got Quigley and that loco Petrow hombre after you as well as the Syndicate. You wanna leave a legacy in the IIWF when you turn tail and retire in a few weeks? How 'bout being part of the team that crushed the Syndicate ferever? As fer me, this here is a business proposition... nothin' more. [Thunder takes the mic once again.] BT: An' Danny-boy, just to show ya we mean business, son, we brought a little present fer ya.... [Another big pop as J.W. Hardin walks toward Kauffman with the mic, stopping two feet in front of him. Looking Kauffman in the eyes, he slowly removes the IIWF World Heavyweight Championship belt from his shoulder and hands it to Kauffman, who cautiously accepts it.] JWH: I reckon this belongs to you more n' it does Casey James anyway. [Without another word, Hardin turns to join Thunder. They toss the ring mic back to Sparkplug Lee and walk back up the aisle, leaving the Players' Club standing in the ring. Dan Kauffman looks down at his World Championship belt and then at Dynamite and Reyna before all three climb from the ring.] TD: Well, what a turn of events there, fans. The "Outlaw" J.W. Hardin returns the IIWF World Heavyweight Championship belt to Dan Kauffman! Are we seeing the genesis of an alliance between Hardin, Thunder and the Players' Club? SR: If we are, then Hardin's not as smart as he used to be. He doesn't need the Players' Club -- and he's still the champ in my eyes. [Dynamite and Reyna pat Kauffman's belt as he straps it back around his waist before heading back up the aisle to a mixed pop. Kauffman seems very relieved to have the belt back in his possession.] TD: We must move on now, folks, to tonight's huge Terrordome Match. [A crew begins setting large steel pieces together around the ring. There is a door in one side, and a roof over the top of it.] TD: The crew is now setting up the ring for the big Terrordome match. SR: What is a Terrordome anyway? LM: I think it's something from those comics, the "Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles". SR: Morton, you moron! TD: No, actually it's a steel cage with a roof on top, and the door to it is locked. It's impossible to get in or out that way. I don't know why you'd want to be locked in that cage... with either of these two men. SR: Well, I wouldn't. Creed would beat the living daylights out of anyone, and the Sandman is just that... he'll bore you to sleep! TD: Oh, please. Creed has absolutely been on fire as of late here in the IIWF, and will try to keep it going tonight when he faces the Sandman... who has fared well lately as well, despite a loss by DQ to Lord Byron midweek. =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= TERRORDOME MATCH: =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Creed vs. The Sandman --------------------- WRITER: NN [The ring is secured and in place. Sparkplug Lee makes the announcement from the floor, wary to enter the cage.] RA: Ladies and gentlemen, this following encounter is a special Terrordome match! There are no disqualifications, and, since nobody can leave the cage, no countouts! [Pop!] TD: This _will_ get violent... I guarantee it. RA: Introducing, first... ["Rock Me Amadeus" by Falco, the 1980s classic, starts up. Creed and "The CEO" Jack Montgomery appear at the head of the aisle, illuminated by a red spotlight.] RA: From Parts Unknown... at 275 pounds, and making his way to the ring with Jack Montgomery... ladies and gentlemen... this... is... CREED! [A huge crowd pop for the big man erupts, and then, "Welcome to the Terrordome" by Public Enemy drowns out the 80s pop favorite. Creed makes his way to the ring, left hand raised above his head, and donning a red glove. He is wearing black boots and a black mouthpiece as well.] TD: Now why does the CEO get _his_ music the way he wants it? SR: Probably paid the guy off... or maybe Petrow picked it out himself. Who knows. [Creed enters the cage and begins preparing for the match. The CEO makes sure to stay out of the large prison, but gives some last minute instruction to the warrior. Creed begins climbing the cage, but is interrupted as "Macarena" by Los Del Rio starts. The crowd pops!] TD: Ha ha! Let's see Creed and the CEO dance... SR: This is awful... let's just hope they don't... awwww! [People begin to dance the popular "Macarena" in the crowd. Sparkplug Lee lets some of the commotion die down, then continues...] RA: And his opponent... also at 275 pounds, also from parts unknown... accompanied to the ring by the Masked Wrestler... here is the Sandman!!! [The spotlight hits the curtain, waiting for the Sandman. A masked man comes through, but it is not the Sandman. He makes his way to the ring.] TD: Where's the Sandman? SR: He probably doesn't want anything to do with Creed... I can't blame him. [The crowd begins to look around, checking behind themselves and looking into dark corners. Soon, a giant explosion of magic dust erupts from above the Terrordome. The crowd begins screaming at the shock, and from the cloud appears the Sandman. He raises his arms as the CEO rants about the entrance. The ref shrugs him off... and the Sandman points at Creed, yelling, "it's time to get it on!" Creed nods in determination and agreement and the crowd pops in anticipation.] TD: What an entrance by the Sandman! SR: I liked Creed's better. The red light is just cool. Reminds me of Becky Larue's bedroom... TD: Sure, like you've seen that. SR: Oh, really, Dross? You seem to be defensive... can you tell me about it? TD: Um... no. SR: Sure, I'll bet. He he...you sly dog! Was she in your wild six man? [The Sandman makes his way down to the floor, and Creed, and sprints out of the cage to get him. He rams the Sandman's head into the outside of the cage, and throws him through the door to the inside. Creed follows, and a crew quickly locks and chains the door shut. The bell sounds as Creed begins choking the Sandman.] TD: Yep, no rules here... this is going to be a war. SR: It sure is... it started before the bell! [Creed slams the Sandman's head into the cage wall again. The Sandman returns fire with a punch to the face. Creed rocks back and kicks the Sandman in the midsection, and then an elbow to the back of his head. The Sandman follows up with a small package - 1 - 2 - kickout. Creed hops back to his feet and charges in with a clothesline, but the Sandman quickly ducks and executes a crucifix - 1 The CEO screams in horror from the outside - 2 - kickout.] TD: Lots of offense here from both men, and the Sandman scoring a couple of near falls. SR: I like to see the match start off quick like this. I absolutely hate those twenty-five minute marathons that McArthur and Norton put on. TD: When have you seen those two wrestle each other? SR: I'm going to lay out Paris tonight. TD: Just a random thought? SR: Yep. [The Sandman charges Creed, who ducks and executes a quick back body drop. The Sandman, however, hops right back up and catches Creed off guard with a body slam. He covers - 1 - kickout. Creed gets back to his feet and steps back, taking a moment to survey the situation.] TD: Good strategy here by the big man... there is absolutely no reason to attack the Sandman when he's hot... he's just too deadly. [Creed charges in, and the two combatants lock up, collar and elbow. The Sandman tries to use his height advantage to force Creed to the mat, but he is too strong, and quickly ducks under and executes a backslide - 1 - 2 - kickout. The Sandman gets back up and walks into a big clothesline from Creed! Creed follows up and drops a massive elbow! He drags the Sandman back up and rams him, headfirst into the turnbuckle. The Sandman runs halfway up the cage. Pop!] SR: Creed's taking it to him. The Sandman could have some troubles here... he's just not strong enough to handle this guy! TD: I wouldn't underestimate this sneaky character, though. [Creed raises his hands to the crowd, who respond with another pop. The Sandman deftly turns, and executes a plancha from the side of the cage! Big heel pop. He covers - 1 - 2 - kickout. The Sandman goes to a reverse chinlock, and cranks back on the neck.] TD: The Sandman is such a great strategist, I must say that much. He's always able to focus on one body part and attack. He loves to hit the neck and head area. SR: Yeah, but really, his main weapon is that dust in the face. He's won numerous matches around here with that. [As the crowd begins to chant, "Creed! Creed! Creed!", the big warrior begins to relieve the pressure on his neck, and gets to his knees. The Sandman presses down harder, but it does no good... as the mighty Creed gets to his feet, with the Sandman stuck up there on his back. Creed walks over to the side of the cage, and looks as if he is about to ram the Sandman into the side of it, when the Sandman is able to shift his weight, executing an amazing victory roll. The referee is slightly out of position, and is slow to make the count - 1 - 2 - kickout. Creed rolls out of the ring and stands on the apron between the ropes and the cage. The CEO rushes over to speak with him.] TD: The Sandman doing the job here so far... I'm impressed, and a little bit surprised. SR: I want Paris in that cage... maybe if I asked ol' Spreadbury... TD: I don't think President Spreadbury is going to meet many of your requests, Steve. SR: More like Dictator Danny. [As the CEO is speaking with Creed, the Sandman seizes the opportunity. He runs at Creed and shoulder blocks him, face first, into the wall of the cage. Big heel pop! The CEO reaches through and grabs the Sandman's foot, but the Masked Wrestler is over there quickly to break it up. The CEO backpedals a few steps and finally gets out of the way. The Sandman hooks him up for a suplex, but is unable to perform the maneuver. Instead, the mighty Creed reverses it, picks up the Sandman, setting him on the top turnbuckle.] TD: Big trouble here for the Sandman... he's perched up there in a pretty bad spot, you know. SR: It's all over... farewell, goodnight, amen... et cetera. [Creed hits the Sandman a few times in the jaw with his right hand, then climbs up to the top rope with him. He hooks him for a superplex off the top rope, but the Sandman hooks his leg on the cage. Creed goes to punch him again, but it is blocked by the Sandman. The Sandman grabs Creed's hair and bangs his head into the side of the cage. Big heel pop! Creed topples backwards and falls into the center of the ring. The Sandman continues climbing up the side of the cage for two steps, until he is ten to twelve feet above the ring.] TD: What's he going to do? SR: I don't know, but he hits it, it will be all over! [The CEO Jack Montgomery hops up on the side of the cage, but is quickly ripped back down by the ankle by the Masked Wrestler. As the CEO begs off, the Sandman sends himself flying through the air, landing with a huge big splash!] LM: Forget it! [The referee is quick to slide into position - 1 - 2 - KICKOUT!!! The crowd goes crazy!] SR: Oh my! I can't believe this Creed! I have never seen somebody take such a maneuver... TD: And live to fight on! [Creed is, however, quite hurt in the ring. He is flat on his stomach, in pain. The Sandman points to his "Sleeper" tattoo. The CEO again yells for help... and this time receives it. Stud Stetson sprints out of the locker room and attacks the Masked Wrestler from behind, dropping him to the mat. He grabs a chair and heads toward the fallen masked man.] SR: Stetson again! I love this guy! [The Sandman lets Creed go, heading over to see what the fuss is. From the crowd leaps Marty Warnett, but not before the Superstar nails the fallen Masked Wrestler in the knee with a chair. The crowd lets out a huge pop as Warnett, the newly crowned Intercontinental Champion, hits Stetson. The brawl heads up the aisle.] SR: Get him, Stud... get the belt back for Kowalski! TD: This is trouble... [Creed begins to recover and is able to nail the distracted Sandman, who is trying to get out the locker door, with a kick to the back. The Sandman spins around and swings, but Creed blocks it with his right hand, and begins to slug away with his left. Time and time again the gloved hand connects, and the Sandman gets weary. The CEO yells for Creed to finish the job.] SR: It's over, baby! TD: It is not. Be patient. [Creed whips the Sandman to the ropes, but he does not bounce back, instead his back hits steel. Creed does not care, and as the Sandman stumbles out of the corner, Creed wraps the massive hand around the Sandman's throat. Cameras flash and the crowd pops as Creed lifts the 275 pound Sandman to the sky and brings him down with a chokeslam.] TD: Forget it. SR: I told you! [Creed points to the CEO, and then climbs the top turnbuckle. He launches himself across the ring and drops an elbow to the throat of the Sandman. He covers - 1 - 2 - 3! Ding! Ding! Ding!] RA: The winner of the Terrordome match is Creed! [Falco's "Rock Me Amadeus" starts again. Creed is let out of the cage, and then, to a massive crowd pop, begins scaling it. He gets to the top, and, hit by the red spotlight, stands there with his hand raised. The crowd pops again!] SR: Listen to this crowd! TD: I think Montgomery bought up a nice block of seating, Steve. [The chants of, "Creed! Creed! Creed!" echo throughout the arena.] TD: Your winner, once again, is Creed. This man is destined for very great things here in the IIWF. SR: He'll never match my achievements in the ring, Dross, and that's the truth. TD: Are you going for your patented finisher, the "Soundbite Slap", a deadly, open backhand to the cheek? He he he. SR: Watch it, Dross. Right, if you two idiots will excuse me, I've got to go and beat the snot out of widdle Wonnie Pawis. TD: Be our guest, Steve. We've been looking forward to this match for two weeks. SR: You won't be disappointed, Dross, I guarantee it. [Steve gets up and leaves the broadcast booth, heading up the aisle to a mixed pop from the crowd. The technical crew has already descended on the ring and is dismantling the steel cage.] TD: So, Larry, what do you think we can expect to see in this match? LM: I really don't know, Tim. I've watched some videos of Steve Roberts in his hey-dey, and he was an impressive competitor, even taking into consideration his, er, unusual taste in ring attire. TD: I've watched some tapes, too. Steve was an accomplished brawler, but he relied more on his mouth and his wit than his wrestling skills to get him out of trouble. I don't know what kind of shape Steve can be in right now, but he's been collecting insurance on his back injury for the last four years, and I can't imagine that he's been training hard recently. LM: I just hope Ronnie Paris goes easy on him. TD: Well, the ring crew has finished taking down the cage, so let's go back up to Sparkplug Lee for the introductions. =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- Ronnie Paris vs. "Soundbite" Steve Roberts -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= WRITER: DS [Sparkplug Lee steps into the ring with a grin on his face.] RA: Ladies and gentlemen, the following special challenge match is scheduled for one fall. Introducing first, hailing from Texas, and weighing in at 210lbs, here is... Ronnie Paris! [The crowd pops as they fix their eyes on the head of the aisle. Ronnie Paris steps out into the arena, closely followed by a bodyguard, who stands at about 6'5" and weighs upwards of 260lbs. Paris strides confidently down the aisle, shaking his head as he realises that the music accompanying his entrance is "Sweet Transvestite" from the Rocky Horror Picture Show.] TD: I think that music might have been more appropriate for Steve "Feather Boas" Roberts. LM: Who's the big guy, Tim? TD: I don't know, Larry. Paris did mention that he would have somebody watching his back for this match, and I guess this is what he meant. [Paris accepts the cheers of the crowd, and enters the ring. The bodyguard takes a seat at the timekeeper's table.] RA: And introducing his opponent... [The slow rumble of the opening of Richard Strauss' "Also Sprach Zarathustra" echoes over the PA] Weighing in at 263lbs... here is the one and only "Soundbite" Steve Roberts! [Roberts appears at the head of the aisle, looking very annoyed. He is wearing the same IIWF t-shirt and jeans that he wears while doing his duties as an announcer. He storms down to the ring, and climbs the ringsteps, gesturing for Paris to get back out of his way. Paris smiles, raises his hands, and leans up against the turnbuckles in the far corner.] TD: Steve doesn't look pleased. LM: Is he going to wrestle dressed like that? TD: He's snatched the microphone from Sparkplug... [The crowd jeers Roberts as he takes the microphone from Sparkplug and shoves the ring announcer towards the ropes. Sparkplug looks wounded and then heads out of the squared circle.] SR: Shut up, you morons! Paris -- we had a deal. You and me, one on one. [points to the bodyguard on the outside] So you go and bring out some hired goon to cheapshot me. Well, let me tell you something, Paris, you jerk. There's no way I'm going to wrestle you with that musclebound freak on the outside. I don't care whether your mother wants a ringside seat or not, she's got to go. [looks over to the bodyguard, who gets to his feet] Sorry, Mrs. Paris, but that's the way it is. [Paris looks mildly annoyed, and speaks with the match official. The referee signals that he can force Roberts to forfeit.] SR: What's that? Alfonso says if I don't wrestle you, I'll forfeit the match? Fine, I'll forfeit the goddamn match. But Paris, until you send your mom -- or is it your wife? -- back to the locker room, there's no way I'm going to lock up with you, understand? [Paris looks angrily at Roberts, and then goes over to the ropes. He leans through and speaks to the bodyguard.] SR: That's right, Paris. Send your wife back to look after the kids. Hell, I'm amazed the authorities let your wife out of quarantine so soon. Isn't she the "missing link" right there? She has more hair than you do, Paris. [The bodyguard is very annoyed indeed, but Paris sends him up the aisle. The crowd jeer as Roberts watches the bodyguard go.] SR: Okay, now I'm ready to wrestle you, Paris. [Paris yells at Roberts to put down the microphone and get on with it. The crowd chants "Pa - ris! Pa - ris!"] SR: And all you morons can shut up, too! [Heel pop] Paris, I'm ready to wrestle you... but I've been barred from competition by my insurers. [Huge heel pop.] TD: Oh, no. Why does this not surprise me? SR: I was on the phone to them day and night, Paris. Hell, I kept AT&T in business this past two weeks, trying to find some clause in my policy that would allow me to compete tonight. But the fact is that the IIWF simply doesn't pay me well enough for me to give up my insurance payments and still live in the manner to which I'm accustomed. [Paris is yelling at the referee.] SR: Nice act, Paris. But I know that deep inside right now, you're cheering. You're relieved that you lucked out. You can't believe that you've escaped a beating at the hands of Steve Roberts. [Paris takes a step towards Roberts, fists raised.] SR: Whoa there, big man. Hold it right there. You touch me, and I'll have you arrested for assault. [The official steps between Paris and Roberts] Okay, Paris, since I can see you're just busting to have your ass kicked, I went out and I found a substitute to face you. Sure, he's not in the same league as me, but then, who is? But I guarantee you that he's not averse to doing some wholesale damage. [beckoning towards the head of the aisle] I give you... Spur! [The crowd gives a heel pop as Roberts extends his arm to the head of the aisle and all eyes in the arena turn towards the entranceway, including those of Paris.] TD: This is ridiculous! Paris is scheduled to wrestle Steve Roberts, not Spur! LM: We really don't know much about Spur -- he took a countout loss on Wednesday night when he had the match wrapped up. He's a real enigma. TD: Indeed he is... But where is he? No! Hang on! From behind! Spur just rolled out from under the ring and jumped Ronnie Paris from behind! Look at Spur go to work on Paris! LM: This is ridiculous! Spur has no place out there! [The referee looks confused as Spur beats on Ronnie Paris with kicks and punches, is powerless to stop the masked athlete as he locks Paris in a cranked-up full nelson. Paris yells out in pain, the early clubbing blows to his back as Spur attacked him making the hold all the more effective. Roberts laughs out loud.] SR: You idiot, Paris. Did you really think I'd wrestle you? Did you really think I'd dirty my hands on trash like you? You moron! You're not fit to lick the shit off my shoes, Paris! That's the way it's always been, and that's the way it'll always be. [Roberts closes in on Paris, and slaps the helpless wrestler around the face. Big heel pop. He steps back, looks out to the crowd, laughs, and then slaps Ronnie again.] TD: Yow! You can hear those slaps all round the Coliseum! LM: Roberts just slapped the taste right out of Paris' mouth! This is disgusting! Get some help out here! [Roberts continues to work Paris over, kicking him in the midsection, and punching him in the rib and kidney areas. Paris slumps under the force of each blow, and the heel pop grows as Roberts continues to beat on Paris. Suddenly, there is a mixed reaction as Mad Dog Watkins appears in the aisle.] TD: Oh no! Can things get any worse for Ronnie Paris?! First Spur, and now Mad Dog Watkins! [Watkins walks straight to the ring, and steps through the ropes. He taps Roberts on the shoulder, and as the announcer wheels around, Watkins nails him with a right hand! Huge pop! Roberts rolls with the punch, and doesn't go down, but looks shocked!] TD: Did Watkins just nail Roberts?! LM: Look at the look on Steve's face! He can't believe it... and nor can I! [Roberts drops the microphone and holds up his hands as Watkins threatens to nail him again. Roberts falls on his backside, and rolls out of the ring, checking his jaw to see whether it has been broken. The crowd cheers as Watkins turns his attentions to Spur. The masked wrestler drops Paris and charges Watkins, who backdrops him. Big pop! Spur gets to his feet, and is clotheslined to the outside with authority by Watkins! Huge pop!] TD: I don't know what Watkins is doing here, Larry, but Paris must be glad to see him for the first time in his life! [Spur looks up into the ring as he picks himself up, and decides to head back to the locker room area. Roberts watches Watkins from the outside. Paris starts to drag himself to his feet using the ropes, and Watkins picks up the microphone discarded by Roberts.] MD: Listen up everyone, and you too, Paris. I'm going to do something that I don't do very often. Real men in this sport are few and far between with most men hiding behind gimmicks and only trying to play the role of tough guy. These are the chumps that are easy to take down when you get them between the ropes. But a real man gives you all he's got, which is usually more than you expected, for as long as it takes. And when you get into the ring with a real man, and he stands toe-to-toe with you... then that man gets your respect. Well, Paris, you proved something to me, and for that you earned my respect. Shake my hand. [Watkins extends his left hand to a still groggy, unsure and hesitant Ronnie Paris, who looks to the crowd for assurance. Slowly, he raises his left hand, and the two men shake hands to the astonishment and surprise of the crowd.] MD: All right then. But you see folks, once you get a man's respect, you've got to keep it. That's sometimes the harder thing for man to do. [Watkins turns his back to Paris and points to Steve Roberts on the outside.] MD: You, Roberts... I've got no respect for you. You are a sad, tired little man whose mouth only serves to overload his ass. You sicken me, but not as much as... [Watkins suddenly turns and strikes Paris, who has let his guard down after the handshake, in the head with the microphone. Watkins hits the youngster repeatedly until Paris collapses at his feet.] MD: He does not sicken me as much as you do! What you proved to me, Paris, is now forgotten. A man does not make his mark by being made a fool of by out-of-shape loudmouths. He does it by getting in the ring with the best, taking what they've got to give him, and giving it right back one better. I thought you learned that lesson, but obviously you need to review that chapter again. [Watkins puts two, hard left boots to the stomach of Paris as he tries to crawl to his feet. Mad Dog grabs him by his hair and hits him with two crushing left hands, followed by a viscious clothesline that sends Paris over the top rope and to the arena floor. Watkins drops the mic, and follows Paris out where pulls up the padding surrounding that side of the ring. A referee tries to stop Watkins, but is shoved into the ring barrier. The crowd goes crazy as Watkins then picks up and positions Paris for a powerbomb, draws his thumb across his throat to signal his finish, and subsequently powerbombs Paris to the concrete floor. Immediately, the Jobber Justice Squad hits the area before Watkins can do any more damage than a kick to the fallen Paris. Watkins breaks free of the marauding Jobber Justice Squad and IIWF officials, slides into the ring, and grabs the microphone once more.] MD: I hope you paid attention that time, son! And I hope the rest of the IIWF got a good eyeful of that as well. I heard Marty Warnett's comments on the Hotline last Sunday. I've heard the announcers sit back and criticize me, saying that I need to "hit my stride." Well consider it hit! Ever since I stepped foot in this fed, I've had an open contract, and I've sat back and watched every so-called superstar avoid me. I want each and everyone one of you to ask yourselves "Why is that?" Because everyone knows that it benefits their career to stay out of my way. [The camera cuts quickly to the aisle where four IIWF interns are walking the aisle, handing out sheets of paper to the crowd. One intern makes his way to the ring and hands one to Watkins. Watkins holds it up, and begins to speak again.] MD: You see this? This is an open contract to each and every wrestler in the IIWF. And I don't give a damn who signs it. Bring them all on. I've beaten the Cruiserweight champion... I carried this punk [Points to Paris on the outside] through one of the best main events this fed has ever seen... and I carried your so-called "People's Champion", The Subway Psycho, in the Lethal Lottery at Snow Brawl where I took it to anyone who dared get in my way. So I don't want to hear any more crap about being unfocused or out-of-stride. Don't question me. Question your Kauffmans, your Creeds, your Pukespeares of the world why they don't sign this contract. Ask 'em! As Creed says, I'm ready for "Anyone...Anytime...Anywhere" and if it's a fight you want, you don't have to look too far, because I'm right here. You know, many people say who can't always get what you want. But I say sometimes you just have to go take what you want. And that time is here, IIWF, and I'm not going to stop taking 'till I damn well feel like it! [Watkins slams the microphone down on the canvas, raises the contract in his left hand high above his head, and points to it before leaving it in the middle of the ring as he exits to a huge heel pop. On the outside, officials help Paris to his feet, and Roberts finally seems to shake off the effects of Watkins' punch as he rejoins Tim and Larry at the broadcast table.] TD: That was quite a shot you took there, Steve. SR: Who the hell does Watkins think he is, Dross?! What kind of half-baked stunt was that? LM: It seems just about everybody got more than they bargained for here tonight. You never had any intention of wrestling Paris, did you, Steve? SR: Of course I didn't, Dross. Paris isn't worthy of my attention, but I'm happy to make him realise how insignificant he is. What I do _not_ appreciate is being cheap-shotted by idiots like Watkins. TD: Watkins certainly made his mark here tonight. It looks like the Watkins/Paris saga will continue. SR: I might need my jaw re-set after that shot. Ouch. TD: We must move on. Up next, we're going to see the IIWF Intercontinental Champion, Marty Warnett, make his first title defense, against the man who is currently backstage. Let's get a word with Chris Quigley: [Camera cuts to Chris Quigley, who's standing backstage, dressed in full wrestling attire.] TD: Chris, in just a few moments, you get your first official shot at a title here in the IIWF, as you face Marty Warnett for his Intercontinental belt! Obviously there has to be a lot on your mind, what with Dan Kauffman's announcement, Deathbringer's threats, and Otto Verhoeven and The Players' Club constantly watching you. Can you put all that out of your mind and focus tonight? [Quigley removes his shades] CQ: I'm a professional through and through, Tim. I'm going into this match with one goal, and that's to beat Marty Warnett worse than he's _ever_ been beaten before! He's got the nerve to badmouth me, make accusations at me, and then he even has to nerve to put himself in Dan Kauffman's class?! You listen and you listen good you little 80's freak! I am gonna tie you into a knot tonight, and give you the wrestling lesson you need! And when I wrap you in the Quickstriker... maybe I won't let you go! TD: "Quickstrike", what about Dan Kauffman's announcement? CQ: I can't worry about Dan Kauffman and his retirement right now, Dross! I'll tell you what... next week, right here LIVE, I'll give you an interview, and you can ask me whatever the hell you want. TD: I'll look forward to it. It's all set then! [Quigley slides his shades back on...] CQ: And so am I, Dross. Warnett, tonight you are gonna find out a whole new definition to the word PAIN! Are you ready be struck down?! [Camera cuts back to the broadcast table as Quigley walks out of shot.] TD: A very determined Chris Quigley, ladies and gentlemen. Let's get up to Sparkplug Lee for the introductions. SR: Marty Walnut up against Chris Quigley... and boy am I ready to see _either_ of these two go down! =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= IIWF INTERCONTINENTAL CHAMPIONSHIP MATCH: =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Marty Warnett [c] vs. "Quickstrike" Chris Quigley ------------------------------------------------- WRITER: NN [Sparkplug Lee enters the ring, as the crowd begins chanting, "we want Quigley! We want Quigley!" Lee only smiles, and then raises the microphone to speak, but gets interrupted. The fans expect to hear Chris Quigley's music, but start buzzing as "Chariots of Fire" starts to play over the PA, as a blonde haired man wearing a black suit and carrying what appears to be a trophy of some kind, saunters down the aisle, with an arrogant smirk on his face. The fans try to touch him but he swats their hands away and says something unfavourable to some of them as he passes. The man reaches the broadcast booth, pulls up a chair and sits down, as "Chariots of Fire" dies down.] TD: Who are you?! KM: Whatdya mean, who am I?! [The man clanks his trophy down on the table.] KM: You're looking at Kurt Manning, boy, THE RSPWF COMMENTATOR OF THE YEAR. Now are you gonna let me be nice enough to share the booth with ya, or do I have to kick your butt outta here? SR: Yeah, Dross, smarten up! How's it going, Kurt? KM: Steve Roberts? Hmmmm... at least they stuck me with a semi-competent broadcaster here. SR: You watch it, Manning. Semi-competent?! I've already kicked Paris' ass all over the arena tonight... TD: [snort of disgust] SR: ...and I'm not averse to doing double duty tonight. [Lee regains his composure, and then continues...] RA: Ladies and gentlemen, we have been joined by RSPWF Commentator of the Year! Let us all give a warm, IIWF Coliseum welcome to Mr. Kurt Manning! [As the crowd gives some disinterested applause, the spotlight hits Manning, who has his feet kicked up onto the table. He refuses to acknowledge the mellow pop.] RA: And now ladies and gentlemen, we move on to the next match, which is for the IIWF Intercontinental Championship, and set for _one_ fall! [Pop!] Introducing, first, from Corner Brook, Newfoundland... ["For Those About to Rock" blasts over the PA, as "Quickstrike" makes his entrance. He begins slapping everyone's hands, dressed in a black leather jacket and silver wire shades. He is wearing black pants with silver lightning on them.] TD: Here comes Chris Quigley... the man who will, in March, be going on to Ring Wars III to face Dan Kauffman for the IIWF World Heavyweight title, and he's going for the Intercontinental strap tonight. KM: I have sources which tell me that Kauffman will _not_ be able to perform at Ring Wars III, Dross. TD: What "sources" told you this? KM: The end of an Easton 29 ouncer. SR: Good, I'm sick of Kauffman. TD: I don't think he'll really do it, Steve... but it's ok to be a little slow, with the end of your life coming up just in a minute at the hands of Ronnie Paris... KM: Yeah, if I were really to use an _Easton_, then why would I admit it on national tele -- oh wait, you guys just broadcast to the greater Portland metro area, don't you? Poor fools. RA: ... making his way down the aisle... at 238 pounds, here is "Quickstrike"... Chris Quigley! [The crowd pops at the mention of Quigley's name. Quigley jogs the rest of the way to the ring, and begins bouncing from rope to rope in preparation. He stop near a turnbuckle and makes a "I love you" sign, similar to that of Jimmy Snuka's. The crowd pops as Quigley encompasses the ring, saluting the fans. He is quick to stop, however, when "Cold Gin" by Kiss starts, and he stares at the aisle.] RA: And his opponent in this contest is from Cardiff, Wales... he weighs in at 245 pounds and is the IIWF Intercontinental Champion... this is Marty Warnett!!! [Warnett appears in the aisle in red boots and trunks, hoisting the Intercontinental Championship high. He takes his time in getting to the ring, slapping the hands of some excited fans. Quigley beckons for Warnett to hurry it up, but Marty does not oblige him right away.] TD: Some stall tactics here by Warnett, he wants to get underneath the skin of Chris Quigley. KM: Speaking of getting "underneath the skin", where's Becky tonight? [Warnett finally gets to the ring steps, and enters the ring, cautious of Quigley. He kisses his title and then hands it over to the official, who shows it to Quigley. Quigley just nods, apparently less than thrilled with the I-C title. The referee hands it to a ring attendant and then calls for the bell.] SR: We're finally underway here. KM: How did I get stuck calling this match? I'm the RSPWF Commentator of the Year you know. TD: Oh, really? KM: A little jealous, Dross? Care to share something? TD: Two great athletes here, Chris Quigley and Marty Warnett, the Intercontinental Champion squaring off. KM: Ha ha ha. [The two combatants finally lock up. Quigley gets the upper hand via a knee to the midsection, followed by a shot to the back. Warnett is able, though, to reach up and twist Quigley's right arm. Quigley looks for, but cannot find a reversal, so he flips back over the arm, relieving the pressure, and applies a side headlock. Warnett is able to pick him up, attempting a backside suplex, but Quigley just redoubles the pressure on the hold, which forces Warnett to let go. Quigley pulls him over in a side takedown - 1 - shoulder pops up.] SR: I spoke to Quigley before the match, and he told me that he was looking to give Warnett a wrestling seminar... and so far, he's succeeding. TD: Warnett isn't about to attend any "seminars" in wrestling, even at the hands of a great wrestler like Quigley. He's just as fine tuned in the grappling of the sport as anyone, and he's out to prove it tonight, with a win over a red hot Chris Quigley. KM: Anybody got a beer? [Warnett is able to get Quigley off him, and the two men have a stare down again from across the ring. They circle each other, and Warnett begins slapping the turnbuckle for crowd approval. Just as the chants of "MAR - TY! MAR - TY!" begin to echo throughout the IIWF Coliseum, Quigley nails Warnett with a dropkick, sending him flying into the turnbuckle. Quigley is quick to charge in with a series of forearm shots and right fists. Warnett begins to hold his head, and eventually slumps to the mat. Quigley begins kicking away at him, and the referee is forced to pull him away.] TD: What intensity from "Quickstrike"! KM: Yeah, but you did hear about the lawsuit the fans of the IIWF are pressing against Chris Quigley, didn't you? TD: What? KM: You know how he's always saying he's the best? Blatant false advertising. TD: Oh for... KM: Ironically enough, Marty Warnett is also being sued for false advertising. It seems ol' Marty tried to convince a few ladies that he was a man. SR: [laughs] [In the ring, Quigley stands over Marty Warnett, verbally berating him. He snaps him up and executes a scoop slam. He covers - 1 - 2 - kickout. A murmur arises from the crowd, as Lady DeWinter makes her way to ringside, carrying a wilted red rose.] KM: I wouldn't give that... um, "lady" a good rose, that's for darn well sure. [As DeWinter takes a seat over by the announcers' table, she watches with interest as Quigley drags Warnett back to his feet. He whips Warnett to the buckle, and follows right in. Warnett, however, is able to raise an elbow, and Quigley's jaw runs right into it. Pop! Warnett is quick to follow up, dropping down and going right to the reverse headlock. Lady DeWinter applauds.] TD: Well, Lady DeWinter has made her way down to ringside, and she seems to be taking an interest in the match. SR: She's been out here for a lot of Marty Warnett matches as of late, Dross. The tramp. TD: She's sitting no more than ten feet away, Steve! Please! SR: Oh, that far? Dang, then I'll have to talk louder next time so she can get my friendly little message. KM: [laughs] [Quigley is taken down to the mat now by Marty Warnett's headlock. The champion spins and flings his leg into the air, coming down with a knee to Quigley's stomach. He covers - 1 - 2 - Quigley gets a shoulder up. Warnett interlocks his hands with Quigley's and forces the challenger's shoulders down - 1 - 2 - kickout. Warnett goes to raise the leg again, but this time is caught between the legs of Quigley, who then executes a kickout, sending Warnett flying to the other side of the ring. Lady DeWinter screams as Quigley gets on the offensive, dropping an elbow to Warnett's chest. He covers - 1 - 2 - kickout.] TD: Two great mat technicians, guys. Chris Quigley is going to be ready for Ring Wars with counter moves like that one right there. [Quigley drags Warnett back to his feet. Warnett is sent for the ride, but on the rebound stops and hits Quigley with a right hand. Quigley reels backward against the ropes, and fires right back with a right of his own. Quigley and Warnett begin to slug it out, until Quigley looks to back off. He holds up his hands, and when Warnett takes a step away, Quigley quickly grabs the front of his trunks, drop to his knees, and it sends the champ all the way out to the floor.] TD: I wonder if Dan Kauffman is watching this... KM: Doesn't this look like a gay porno movie to you? Well... with Warnett in there, I betcha there _are_ some similarites. TD: You're just a million laughs, aren't you? SR: Hey Dross, _I'm_ laughing. KM: It's obvious you've got a great sense of humour, Steve. I can tell by your clothes. SR: Hey! TD: [laughs] Actually, that was pretty amusing. KM: Shut up, Dross! I don't care what _you_ think. [Quigley follows Warnett right through the ropes, and rams his head into the apron. Quigley nods and grabs Warnett by the arm, pointing to the guard rail. He winds up to swing him in, but Warnett reverses it and sends Quigley for the ride himself. The steel clatters and the crowd pops! The referee continues a count on both men - 4 - 5 - Warnett breaks the count by jumping back into the ring, waiting for Quigley. Quigley finally enters, and Warnett meets him on the way through, hooking him for a suplex.] TD: Warnett is doing very well for himself, he could very easily win this match, Mr. Manning. KM: There's a perfect explanation for Warnett's success, though, Dross. TD: What's that? KM: I'll tell you in a minute. [Warnett executes a high Northern Lights suplex. Quigley is laid out on the mat.] KM: Okay, Dross... you know what wrestler Chris Quigley reminds me of? TD: No, who? KM: Jim Carrey. TD: Jim Carrey isn't a wrestler. KM: Hell, neither is Quigley. [As Dross fumes on the outside, Warnett covers - 1 - 2 - kickout! The crowd moans in disappointment, but Warnett is quick to hop up on the second turnbuckle. He waits for Quigley to get back to his feet, and then flies across the ring for a double axe handle. Quigley, however, has the presence of mind to dropkick Warnett out of the sky!] TD: What a great move by Quigley! SR: A dropkick? Like, wow. [Quigley gets up and takes the offensive. He goes sends Warnett to the buckle. Warnett hits hard, and, as he stumbles out of the corner, receives a back body drop from his opponent. Quigley, already near the ropes, hops up on the second turnbuckle himself. He executes an elbow drop, which hits Warnett right in the mouth. He covers - 1 - 2 - KICKOUT! Quigley shakes his head in amazement.] TD: Great intestinal fortitude to kickout of that one. Wow. KM: Well, the shot _was_ from Quigley... how tough can it be? [Quigley picks Warnett back up, and whips him to the ropes. Warnett comes off and tries for a running clothesline, but Quigley ducks, and follows the champ to the other side. As Warnett rebounds a second time, Quigley sticks out a knee. Warnett, though, has the presence of mind to avoid the shot, leaping over the leg and rolling him up - 1 - 2 - kickout. Quigley is back his feet first, and charges in. Warnett takes him down with a drop toe hold, and then cinches up on an STF.] SR: That's one move I wish I'd put on Ronnie Paris. TD: The only move you pulled on Ronnie Paris, and all these fans out here, was a fast one, Steve. KM: I heard it was going to be a steel cage baseball bat match. TD: It was not! KM: Sorry, Dross, thought I'd try to help your ratings... I've heard that you have suffered as of late. [Quigley, in obvious pain, begins crawling towards the ropes. Warnett fights to keep the hold applied, but does not succeed. Quigley reaches out and grabs the bottom rope, and Warnett breaks cleanly. Warnett gets back up, and bounces of the ropes. As he runs in, Quigley tries to catch him with a kick, but Warnett blocks it. Warnett looks at the crowd in appreciation of his counter, and Quigley makes him pay for his indecisiveness with a spinning kick, an enzuigiri, to his head. Warnett crashes to the mat.] SR: Oh, it's all over now. KM: Thank God; this is so boring. What is the time limit on this match, anyway, like three _hours_? [Quigley is quick to drag Warnett back up. He hooks Warnett, and then Lady DeWinter hops up on the apron, yelling at the referee. As the ref walks her way, Quigley executes a fisherman's suplex, bridging for a pin. The referee is not there to make a count, and, after four or five seconds, DeWinter is forced off the apron. The ref then slides in for the count - 1 - 2 - kickout!] TD: That was... interesting. Quigley only had him for a seven count. SR: Should have a new champ. KM: Oh, you have titles here too? [Quigley, obviously not happy with the situation, slugs away at Warnett, rocking him against the corner. Warnett fires back, though, with a short clothesline, sending Quigley to the mat. Warnett drops an elbow, and begins pacing around the ring, obviously with a second wind. Quigley gets whipped to the ropes, and Warnett nails him with a dropkick. The crowd pops as Warnett grabs Quigley's right leg.] TD: This could be The End for Chris Quigley! KM: Finish him! Finish him, baby! TD: I hope he doesn't, just for the sake of making you stay here longer. [As Warnett begins to execute the hold, Quigley reaches up and reverses it with a small package - 1 - 2 - kickout. Warnett picks Quigley up and locks on a headlock, but Quigley is quick to reverse it into a hammerlock. Quigley runs him into the ropes, trying for a roll up, but Warnett holds on to the ropes. Warnett charges the rolling Quigley, who ducks under a clothesline. Warnett comes off the other side, and Quigley catches him with a powerslam!] SR: What a great move by Quigley. He got out of the figure four leglock, and was able to nail him with that. It's got to be over soon. [Warnett, winded, struggles back to his feet. Quigley steps around and executes a Russian leg sweep, sending Warnett's head backward into the canvas. Quigley then heads toward Warnett's legs, and the crowd begins to cheer in anticipation.] TD: The Quickstriker! No escape if he slaps it on! [Quigley grabs Warnett's feet, and begins to step through. He interlocks the legs across one of his own, and turns the hold over. Warnett screams in pain... too far to reach the ropes. Suddenly, as the referee asks Warnett if he's going to give up, the lights begin to flicker.] SR: What's going on? [Suddenly, the lights go out, and a crash of lightning hits. A spotlight focuses on Deathbringer, standing at the highest point in the building. Quigley releases the hold and walks to the ropes nearest 'Bringer. The Reaper speaks in a booming voice, threatening Quigley.] KM: It's gotten pretty cold in here. Either Deathbringer's around or Dross is raiding that little fridge under the broadcast table again. TD: It's Deathbringer! He wants Quigley! SR: And Quigley wants him -- look! [Quigley hops over the top rope to the floor, and heads out after Deathbringer. He vaults the guardrail, and begins working his way toward the monster. Deathbringer stands, arms folded, awaiting his arrival.] KM: Hey, a fight, finally. I bet Quigley doesn't have the balls to attack, though. [As Quigley gets within about 20 steps of Deathbringer, the lights flicker and go out once more. When they come back on, Quigley is left standing at the top of the arena, with no Deathbringer to be found. Marty Warnett is still laying on his back in the ring. The bell sounds.] RA: Ladies and gentlemen, the winner, as a result of a count out... and _still_ IIWF Intercontinental Champion... Marty Warnett!!! [Quigley becomes incensed by the decision, and sprints back down the steps toward the ring.] KM: Notice how quickly he runs after a wimp like Warnett, but how cautious he was earlier, when going after the 'Bringer. [Marty Warnett finally recovers, and the referee hands him the belt. He staggers around a bit, and Quigley continues toward the ring. Warnett gets the belt, and heads over to the ropes, kissing it. Lady DeWinter applauds, but then shrieks as Quigley comes in with a superkick. Warnett ducks underneath, and turns to face Quigley. Quigley, still enraged, clotheslines Warnett over the top, the belt smacking him in the face as he flies to the outside. Big heel pop!] SR: Quigley's not too happy... that's for sure! [Quigley leaves the ring, and heads up the aisle, looking quite annoyed. He is calling out Deathbringer as he leaves. The crowd's applause helps Warnett back to his feet, who is bloody from the belt hitting him in the face. He spits a little blood out.] KM: That's it. I've had enough of this. If I wanted to watch Warnett spit out stuff I'd just set up a camera in his bedroom. [Manning gets up from the table, grabs his RSPWF Commentator of the Year trophy and leaves, walking back down the aisle, once again swatting hands off him. Warnett finally makes his way up the aisle, helped out to a good ovation.] TD: Marty Warnett is still your champion. And we're heading straight into more title action, as the "Enigma" Takezo Musashi is scheduled up next to face Cheshire in a defense of his IIWF Cruiserweight Championship. Let's hear from the "Enigma" now: [Cut to Takezo Musashi sitting on the bench in a darkened locker room, his face a mask of concentration as he laces up his wrestling boots. He finishes the task and looks up at the camera.] TM: In just a few minutes the ring announcer will call my name and I'll be ready to walk down the aisle again, on another defense of my Cruiserweight title. Tonight the challenger is the bizarre clown known as Cheshire, who "earned" his shot by attacking me after my match with Randy Acorn. Well, Cheshire thinks he has something special, just like every other challenger for my belt. Every time a new contender rises above the ranks to earn themselves a shot at the gold they believe that they will be the one, the one who rises above the mediocre and becomes a champion. I faced that challenge and I triumphed, I proved that I was no longer a young hopeful, I proved that I was the best. This was my prize [gestures towards the glittering Cruiserweight title]. Only a few athletes can ever reach that pinnacle. They come to the ring apprehensive but hopeful, they fight to their last breath... but most of them go home empty-handed and spent. You see Cheshire, it takes a special kind of man to be a champion. You need talent, and that you certainly possess, but there is something more. You need the desire, the will to win, that inner strength that does not permit you to quit even when the blood coats your face and your sweat stains the mat. That I do not think you possess, Cheshire, you lack the championship strain. To you this belt is nothing more than a game, a toy for your amusement. To me this belt represents a lifetime's struggle, a pinnacle of athleticism, a matter of honour. I cannot permit you to take something so precious away from me, and that is why your challenge will fail, no matter how many times you bait and harass me. All your mindgames will amount to nothing. You'll become just another challenger who fell by the wayside. But, you have one slim chance, Cheshire, you have one chance to get lucky. For right now, I am distracted by the return of another athlete to the IIWF, a former ally, turned potential foe. To him now, my mind is turned... [The Enigma falls silent and goes back into his pre-match preperations, his face expressing that he is deep in thought. Cut back to the broadcast table.] TD: The mind of the "Enigma" Takezo Musashi apparently more on the White Phoenix than on Cheshire, his opponent tonight. That could be a mistake, Larry. LM: Indeed it could, Tim. But Musashi is a tremendous competitor, and when he steps into the ring tonight, you know that he'll be completely focused on taking Cheshire out. TD: We've not even received word that the White Phoenix has yet returned to America. SR: Quit the wittering, you two half-baked morons. Let's get back up to the ring already. =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- IIWF CRUISERWEIGHT CHAMPIONSHIP MATCH: -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= "Enigma" Takezo Musashi [c] vs. Cheshire ---------------------------------------- WRITER: MP LM: I don't want to talk about this one. As long as it's quick. TD: I think Cheshire will be concentrating more on the match than you, Larry. LM: I don't care. Even just looking at him gives me the creeps. [Sparkplug Lee steps back out into the spotlight.] RA: The following contest is scheduled for one fall, with a thirty minute time limit, and is for the IIWF Crusierweight championship! [Big pop] Introducing first, the challenger, weighing in at 220lbs and hailing from Germany, here is... Cheeeessshhiiiirre! ["One" by Metallica blares out of the PA system, courtesy of Mr. Petrow, and Cheshire appears at the head of the aisle to a big heel pop, and begins to make his way to ringside.] TD: If what happened last week is anything to go by, this should be a terrific match up. Larry? SR: I think he's had a seizure. TD: Larry? [Cheshire vaults onto the ring apron and points at Larry Morton, who is practically frozen with terror, and giggles, before flipping into the ring.] RA: And his opponent... weighing in at 211lbs, and hailing from Tokyo, Japan, he is the current IIWF cruiserweight champion, here is "The Enigma" Tazeko Muuuussasshiiiiiiiii!! [Big pop as "Mr. Roberto" by Styx starts up over the PA system, and the champion appears at the head of the aisle. He begins to make his way to ringside, slapping the fans' hands.] TD: Larry? SR: Give him a glass of water... [As the Enigma makes his way around the ringside area, Cheshire becomes increasingly restless in the ring, and finally, as the Enigma's back is turned, Cheshire runs and vaults out over the top rope, crashing into Musashi with a plancha dive that sends him flying into the crowd barriers! Big heel pop!] SR: Whoa! TD: Looks like Cheshire can't wait to get things underway here! [Cheshire picks Musashi up by the hair, and sends him flying into the ringsteps. The referee signals for the match to begin, as Cheshire rolls the stunned champion back into the ring and leaps to the ring apron, then to the top rope...] TD: And a flying elbowdrop from the top rope by Cheshire! He's determined to make the most of this opportunity! [Cheshire covers the Enigma, the referee counts - 1 - 2 - kickout by the Enigma! Cheshire picks his man back up, and sends him into the ropes; the Enigma ducks the clothesline attempt, turns and is greeted by a kick to the midsection from Cheshire, and then a snap suplex! Another cover! 1 - 2 - kickout by the Enigma again! Cheshire pulls him back to his feet, and tries an Irish whip into the turnbuckles.] TD: Good reversal by the Enigma... Cheshire hits face first and comes staggering back out... SR: And Musashi sends him right back in with an atomic drop! [The Enigma takes the offensive now, with a kick to the stomach and then a series of chops while Cheshire's trapped in the corner. The Enigma whips Cheshire towards the opposite turnbuckle, Cheshire reverses in mid-ring and the Enigma leaps to the second rope, leaps backwards and twists in the air, catching Cheshire with a cross body block! The referee is in position - 1 - 2 - kickout by Cheshire!) TD: Cheshire back up, and the Enigma takes him back to the floor with an armdrag! SR: He's got to slow the pace of this match down. The way these two are going at it, it'll be over in ten minutes! [The Enigma twists Cheshire into an armbar, and holding him down, drops a legdrop across the outstretched arm. Cheshire rakes his face, and pushes himself to his feet, only to be met by another armdrag! Big pop! This time, the Enigma rolls Cheshire onto his stomach and twists the hold into a hammerlock, before dropping his knee across the shoulder.] TD: The Enigma's showing the calm and control here that made him the Crusierweight champion. [Cheshire pushes himself to his knees, then to his feet and backs the Enigma into the ropes, before Irish whipping him into the opposite ropes. Cheshire drops to the canvas as the Enigma returns, then flips back to his feet and comes off the ropes himself. the Enigma ducks under his clothesline attempt, hits the ropes a third time, only to be caught by Cheshire and launched out over the top rope! Big heel pop!] LM: [nervously] Well, so much for keeping the match at a slow pace.... SR: Finally returned to the land of the living, have we? [As the Enigma stumbles to his feet on the outside, Cheshire runs towards the ropes, catching hold of the top rope and flipping over, somersaulting in the air to connect with a breathtaking dropkick that sends the Enigma flying into the crash barriers again! Big heel pop!] TD: Incredible! What an amazing display of agility there by Cheshire! SR: Musushi's in trouble here... [Cheshire gets to his knees, giggling, before picking the Enigma up and smashing him head first into the crash barriers! Big heel pop! Cheshire rolls back into the ring and breaks the officials count, before rolling to the outside again... once again he picks the Enigma up, and runs him up ringside, hitting him with a bulldog onto the ringsteps! Big heel pop! And Cheshire rolls into the ring again, leaving the Enigma seemingly out cold on the outside!] SR: Brutal. Cheshire's playing the referee like a piano. [The referee starts to lay the count on the Enigma again, but breaks it as soon as he sees Cheshire climbing the turnbuckles.] TD: This could be dangerous... the Enigma's starting to stir... [The Enigma, with the help of the ring apron, manages to stumble to his feet... and Cheshire comes flying off the top rope with a double axehandle chop that sends him back to the floor! Cheshire giggles, and rolls Musashi back into the ring, follows, and makes the pin - 1 - 2 - weak kickout by Musashi! Cheshire looks at the official in disbelief!] LM: The Enigma showing tremendous guts here... SR: All the guts in the world ain't going to help him if Cheshire hits this... [Cheshire picks the Enigma up into a facelock, but before he can hit a DDT, the Enigma pushes him backwards into the turnbuckles. Cheshire scowls, and clubs the Enigma to hit knees with a series of forearms, before taking the Enigma by the hair and slamming him face first into the top turnbuckle. The Enigma falls to the canvas, and Cheshire covers - 1 - Cheshire puts both feet onto the second turnbuckle for leverage - 2 - ] SR: THREE! TD: No! The referee spotted it! [Cheshire giggles at the referee, and pulls the Enigma back up to his feet, and Musashi drags him into a small package! Count - 1 - 2 - kickout by Cheshire! Cheshire looks far from pleased, and stomps the Enigma on the head, before hoisting him up onto the top turnbuckle.] SR: Superplex coming up? [Cheshire climbs up to the top turnbuckle after him, and the Enigma catches him with a shot to the midsection that slows him down, then a shot to the head. Cheshire replies with a facerake, and then a headbutt, as both men struggle for the advantage on the top turnbuckle.] TD: Which way's this one going to go? What a see-saw match-up. [Both men trade punches to a big crowd pop, until Musashi rakes Cheshire's face, pushes himself to his feet on the top rope, takes hold of Cheshire's head and leaps over him, somersaulting in the air... huge crowd pop!] SR: Oh my... LM: That was incredible! TD: A top rope neckbreaker?! Cheshire is down, and hurt bad! [Both men remain down on the canvas, the Enigma seemingly down from the effort and Cheshire clutching his head in pain. The referee starts to lay the count on both men - 1 - 2 - 3 - ] TD: Either man could pin the other here! SR: Nah, Cheshire's still got too much left! [The referee continues his count - 4 - 5 - both men turn over, and Cheshire staggers to his feet. He comes at Musashi with an axehandle, but the Enigma stuns him with a shot to the jaw from his knees! Big pop! Musashi nails another shot, and takes Cheshire back to the canvas with a spinning neckbreaker! Both men are down again!] TD: All the Enigma has to do is cover his man! SR: Come on Cheshire, get up!! [The Enigma rolls over, and covers Cheshire with one arm... 1 - 2 - Cheshire gets his foot on the ropes! Musashi slaps the canvas, and struggles up to his feet, turning towards the cornerpost again.] TD: Surely he can't be thinking of going to the top again? [The Enigma starts to climb the turnbuckles, and Cheshire starts to stir below him.] SR: He's taking too long. TD: Cheshire's still stunned. [The Enigma sets himself as Cheshire staggers up to his feet, and launches off with a chop.] TD: And Cheshire catches Musashi with a blow to the stomach! Where did he get that from? SR: I told you he was taking too long. [Cheshire pulls Musashi up, backs him into the ropes, and whips him across the ring. As the Enigma rebounds, Cheshire kicks out at his stomach, doubling him over. He hooks Musashi up and lifts him into position for a piledriver.] SR: It's over! New champ coming up! [Cheshire tries to lift Musashi up, but the Enigma struggles, and Cheshire can't lift him! The Enigma lifts Cheshire up and over, and Cheshire flips to land on his feet, before nailing Musashi with a DDT as he turns around! Cheshire covers and hooks the leg - 1 - 2 - ] SR: THREE! TD: The Enigma kicked out! He kicked out! SR: No way! That was a slow count, referee! [Cheshire looks up at the official, complaining about the count. He shakes his head, and picks Musashi back to his feet, only for the Enigma to grab him by the waist, lift him up, and plant him with an inverted atomic drop! The Enigma quickly follows up with a short clothesline, and both men are down on the canvas again! Musashi slowly rolls to his feet, picks Cheshire up, and pushes him backwards into the ropes. He tries an Irish whip, but Cheshire easily reverses.] TD: Superkick by Cheshire... no! The Enigma ducked under! And a savate kick knocks Cheshire flat on his back! Cover him! SR: No! [The Enigma pulls Cheshire up again, and bodyslams him to the canvas. He raises his arm to the crowd and turns towards the turnbuckles.] TD: The Enigma's giving the sign for the Starsault Press! SR: No! Get up Cheshire, get up! [As the Enigma starts to climb up the turnbuckles, a figure bursts out of the crowd...] LM: Shinja Chow! It's the White Phoenix! SR: And here comes Otto Verhoeven! [The White Phoenix leaps to the ring apron, and sends the Enigma crashing back into the ring with a shove. The referee signals for the bell, and the Phoenix vaults to the top turnbuckle himself... Musashi staggers to his feet...] TD: Oh come on! Don't let the match end like this now... [The Enigma turns, and the White Phoenix leaps off with a flying crescent kick that sends him spinning to the canvas! The Phoenix leaps on top of the Enigma and starts hammering away with a series of punches as Otto Verhoeven hits the ring... Verhoeven nails the Phoenix with a heavy axehandle chop, and with Cheshire reviving, it quickly turns into a brawl. Verhoeven and an angry Cheshire quickly wear down the Phoenix with a series of heavy blows and kicks, before ejecting him from the ring. The Phoenix decides against trying to take them on, and heads back towards the locker rooms. Cheshire, still irate at being cost the match, picks the Enigma up and throws him over the top rope as well, before heading back towards the locker room area with Verhoeven.] RA: Here is the winner by result of a disqualification... "The Enigma" Tazeko Musaaaashiiiiiiii! [big pop!] [The referee hands the Enigma his belt and raises his arm, but he shrugs him off and staggers towards the back.] LM: You can bet he'll be looking for the Phoenix. SR: He should be hoping he doesn't find him. He's in no shape for a brawl. TD: We're now just moments away from tonight's huge main event. But before we go up to the ring for this Tombstone Strap Match, let's go to comments from the "Lone Wolf" Brody Thunder: [The camera fades in on a black and white shot of two figures standing in a dark room. One is Brody Thunder. He is standing in a single spotlight, wearing his t-shirt with almost glowing words which reads: "EVIL, MEAN & NASTY". The other is the legendary "Outlaw" J.W. Hardin. Thunder is in front of Hardin and in his hands is a leather strap which he is snapping. He's got his head down with his face hidden behind his cowboy hat.Hardin remains stoic standing behind Thunder and to the right with his hands on his hips. Thunder begins to talk...] BT: Respect. THAT's what this is all about, Tiger Claw. A man ain't got much else in this world if he ain't got respect. It's something that don't come easily an' ya can't buy it. No... it must be earned. Tonight I plan on earnin' your respect, Claw. [The camera gets closer...] Since I came to this federation the Syndicate has been nuthin' but a thorn in my side. A thorn that needs to be removed. Tonight I got you in _my_ match, son. A Tombstone Strap Match. A match that I ain't never lost. Tonight I plan on keepin' that streak alive. Tonight... the thorn gets removed. [...closer....] It's time fer Brody Thunder to start doin' what he does best. It's time to start winnin' agin. This man [points a thumb at Hardin] has said time an' agin that the only man who can defeat me is the man I face in that mirror everyday. Well, friend... I sick an' tired o' bein' the Syndicate's punchin' bag. S'time to settle our little debt an' clean the slate. The only thing that separates you from greatness is the twelve feet of this leather strap an' the ability to beat me in that squared circle. Tonight we'll see if ya got what it takes. [...the shot is now a close-up on Thunder's hat. Thunder snaps his head up and stares almost maniacally into the camera.] An' tonight... if nuthin' else... I _will_ get yer respect, son. [He lowers his head again...] There's a storm comin' to the ring tonight. Thunder's comin', Claw. An' this time I'm leavin' the winner. See ya in the ring, sport. [The camera fades to black as the sound of snapping leather gets louder then fades with the picture. Cut back to the broadcast table.] TD: Wow. Thunder seems adamant that he won't be denied here tonight. And I have to say that with Tiger Claw walking out on the Syndicate earlier on this evening, it's debatable whether Claw will be in the frame of mind to beat Thunder at his own game. LM: I can only imagine that Claw is going to be even more aggressive than before, and desperate to prove that he can succeed without Lau behind him. SR: Pah! He doesn't stand a chance. Without Lau, Tiger Claw is Tiger _Flaw_. He's nothing, a nobody. TD: He's the greatest Intercontinental Champion of all time, Steve. SR: My ass. TD: Let's get back to ringside. =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- TOMBSTONE STRAP MATCH: -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= "Lone Wolf" Brody Thunder vs. Tiger Claw ---------------------------------------- WRITER: DS [Sparkplug Lee steps out into the spotlight.] RA: Ladies and gentlemen, it's time for tonight's main event! [Pop!] The following contest is a special Tombstone Strap Match. The rules are as follows: both athletes will be joined at the wrist by a twelve-foot strap, and the only way to win the match is to touch all four corners of the ring in succession without interruption. If the sequence is interrupted, the sequence must begin again. There will be no pinfalls, no submissions, no countouts and no disqualifications. TD: In other words, anything goes. This is going to be one dangerous match. RA: Introducing first, making his way down the aisle, hailing from Thailand, and weighing in at 220lbs, here is... Tiger Claw! [The crowd gives a mixed pop which is more face than heel as the lights drop and dry ice begins to waft out of the entranceway. Tiger Claw walks out into the arena, a determined look on his face, and the fans cheer him. Joe Petrow's musical selection is "Philadelphia" by Bruce Springsteen, but Claw seems unperturbed. He ignores the eager hands of the fans on both sides of the aisle and makes his way directly to the ring, hopping up onto the apron, and then stepping through the ropes.] TD: No sign of Brian Lau, Larry. LM: I can only assume that Lau hasn't been able to talk Tiger Claw around. That's really too bad -- Lau's lost another meal ticket, just like he lost Hakiro Matsuoko. SR: Shut up, you two. This is just a blip in the relationship between Lau and Flaw. If Lau wants Flaw back, he'll get him back. But to be honest, Flaw has been so pitiful in the ring as of late, I can't imagine Lau even wanting him back. [The official fastens one end of the leather strap to Claw's right wrist.] RA: And introducing his opponent, accompanied to the ring by the legendary "Outlaw" J.W. Hardin, from the town too tough to die, Tombstone, Texas, weighing in at 267lbs, here is... the "Lone Wolf" Brody Thunder! [Mixed pop as Thunder and Hardin step out into the aisle, both men looking severe in their low-brimmed hats, pulled down over their eyes. Hardin smokes his trademark cigar, and Thunder simply walks down the aisle, ignoring the jeers of the fans. He climbs up onto the apron and removes his hat and vest, looking across the ring at Tiger Claw, who loosens himself up, keeping his gaze on Thunder the whole time. Thunder steps through the ropes and allows the referee to begin fastening the strap to his wrist.] TD: You can feel the anticipation in here... the atmosphere is electric! SR: That'll be the residual charge left over from the Kentucky Fried Harlequin earlier on. LM: Okay, Thunder's all hooked up -- we're ready to... Wow! Did you see that! TD: Thunder just pulled on that strap, and it sent Claw flying towards him! What a clothesline from Thunder! [With Hardin nodding in satisfaction on the outside, Thunder begins viciously working Claw over with kicks and punches, before wrapping the strap around his fist, and whipping Claw across the back as the Thai boxer attempts to get to his feet. Thunder drags Claw to his feet and chokes Claw with the strap. Claw struggles to free himself, and lashes out behind him with an elbow, catching Thunder in the rib area. Thunder staggers backwards, and Claw wheels around, nailing the Lone Wolf with a hard reverse crescent kick. Thunder goes down hard, and Claw drops a knee across Brody's throat. Big pop! Claw drags Thunder to his feet and steps through the ropes, wrapping the strap around the top and middle ropes. He climbs back into the ring, and then attempts to clothesline the groggy Thunder over the ropes. However, Thunder ducks down, grabs Claw by the waist, and hoists him over his head, dropping him throat-first across the top rope. Big heel pop!] TD: We're seeing some brutal tactics here early on! LM: These two athletes can't go very far with that strap wrapped around the ropes -- one of them is going to have to untangle themselves. [Thunder shakes off the cobwebs of Claw's kick, and stomps on the fallen Thai's head for good measure before picking him up and wrapping the strap around his throat once more. Claw clutches at his throat to try and prevent Thunder from strangling him, and the big Texan eventually lets go. He looks to Hardin, who nods, and Thunder picks up Claw and dumps him over the top rope. The Thai boxer's feet barely touch the ground, and his arm is outstretched as the tangled strap keeps him trapped. Hardin wanders around to where Claw hangs, and takes a big puff on his cigar before stubbing it out on Claw's skin. Huge heel pop! Claw swats at Hardin and yells in pain, but he is too incapacitated to prevent the burn. Claw clutches at his side as Hardin laughs, before slapping Claw around the face.] TD: This is disgusting! SR: No disqualifications, Dross! I love it! TD: Hardin should be banned from ringside with that cigar of his. That burn looks nasty. [Thunder steps through the ropes and then back into the ring, untangling the strap. He wraps it around his wrists, and tugs, trying to pull Claw back into the ring over the top rope. He pulls Claw up onto the apron, and then approaches the stunned Thai boxer, who grabs Thunder's head and drops to the arena floor, stun gunning Thunder on the top rope. Thunder collapses to the mat, struggling for breath, while Claw fends off Hardin on the outside, whistling a kick past his ear. The fans cheer him on, but their cheers turn to jeers as Brian Lau and Casey James are seen making their way down the aisle.] TD: Are they here to help Claw or hinder him? SR: Only one way to find out, Dross. [Hardin backs away from Claw, who then climbs back to the apron, and leaps over the top rope, landing on Thunder hard with a legdrop. He stomps away at Thunder's chest with his heel, and the Lone Wolf rolls to avoid the blows. Claw drops to his knees and chokes Thunder with the strap. Thunder kicks and tries to escape, and Claw eventually releases the choke before whipping Thunder hard with the strap, leaving big red weals across the cowboy's chest.] LM: Yow! You can hear the snap of leather against skin all over this arena, Tim! TD: And look at the weals that strap is leaving on Thunder's chest! This is brutal! [Thunder lashes out with a thumb to Claw's eye, and the Thai boxer is suitably staggered for Thunder to fight his way to his feet. Both men drag themselves to the vertical base, and begin slugging it out in centre ring. On the outside, Hardin moves threateningly towards Casey James and Brian Lau. James folds his arms and stands in front of Lau, as if daring Hardin to try anything. The Outlaw simply laughs, doffs his hat to the Syndicate members, and shakes his head as he turns away. Casey looks annoyed, but Lau holds him back and whispers something in his ear. Meanwhile, in the ring, Claw whips Thunder into the ropes. The Lone Wolf has the wherewithal to grab hold of the ropes and put on the brakes, but he isn't prepared for the flying spinning leg lariat with which Claw hits him, knocking him over the top rope to the outside! Big pop! Claw finds himself tangled in the ropes by the move, and frees himself. Thunder tries to pick himself up on the outside.] TD: Wow! What a move by Tiger Claw! LM: Brian Lau's up on the apron! What does he want? [Lau climbs to the apron and attracts Tiger Claw's attention. The Thai boxer looks angrily at his former manager, and approaches him. On the outside, Casey James grabs a chair and folds it up. Hardin is distracted by Lau on the apron, and tries to pull him down, while Casey sneaks up behind Thunder, and as the Lone Wolf attempts to get to his feet, Casey waffles him with the chair. Huge heel pop! Thunder drops to the floor like a sack of potatoes, and Casey quickly slides the chair under the ring, retreating from Thunder.] TD: Oh, please! Give me a break! SR: I don't think Flaw realises that the Syndicate are still his best friends out here, Dross. [Hardin pulls Lau from the apron, and Claw turns back to the matter in hand. Claw walks over to the ropes and looks down on the winded Thunder on the floor below, then jumps over the top rope to the floor. He drives a few more kicks into Thunder's back and rib area before dragging the Texan to his feet. Thunder is stunned, and helpless as Claw rolls him back into the ring under the bottom rope. Claw follows him in, and begins touching the turnbuckles. He drags Thunder to the first corner, and slaps the buckle. The referee signals "one!" and the crowd gives a pop! However, Thunder hauls himself to his feet and also slaps the buckle.] TD: Is this the beginning of the end? Has Casey James cost Brody Thunder this match? LM: No, look! Thunder also hit that turnbuckle! Is he playing possum? [Claw drags Thunder along another side of the ring and slaps the second turnbuckle. The referee signals "two!" and the crowd pops again! Again, Thunder slaps the buckle behind Tiger Claw. On the outside, Hardin grows increasingly agitated, and stalks up to Casey James. The two men go nose-to-nose, and exchange harsh words. In the ring, Claw drags Thunder to the third turnbuckle, and slaps it. The referee signals "three!" and the crowd really starts to buzz!] TD: Only one more turnbuckle and Claw has the victory! What a win this would be! SR: But Thunder's on his feet! [Thunder slaps the third buckle too, and Claw starts towards the fourth turnbuckle. Thunder suddenly pulls on the strap, yanking Claw backwards, and Claw careens into the official, knocking him to the mat! Big pop! Suddenly, the Dark Disciples storm the aisle to a big heel pop! Hardin finds himself surrounded by Syndicate members, and has no option but to start slugging it out with Kane and Wulf. Meanwhile, Casey grabs the chair he discarded earlier and enters the ring, bringing the steel down over Thunder's head with a sickening clang. Thunder drops like a sack of potatoes. Huge heel pop!] SR: That was one hell of a shot! James could have fractured Thunder's skull right there! [James rolls out of the ring and goes to aid the Dark Disciples. Hardin manages to hold his own against the Tag Team Champions thanks to his cigar, but he is no match for three men, and they soon beat him down. Meanwhile, in the ring the referee begins to recover, as does Tiger Claw. There is another mixed pop as the Players' Club, with Dan Kauffman, charge down the aisle and begin brawling with the Disciples and Casey James.] TD: This is chaos! We have a donnybrook going on outside the ring here! [The official looks outside the ring to the wild brawl that has ensued, but then watches the ring as Claw drags himself to the fourth corner and pulls himself to his feet using the ropes. He raises his hand and then slumps against the turnbuckle. The referee signals "four!" and then signals for the bell! Ding! Ding! Ding! Big pop! As soon as the bell rings, the brawl spills into the ring, and Claw struggles to unfasten the strap from his wrist. He bails out, and begins making his way groggily up the aisle, pursued by Brian Lau, while the battle goes on in the ring.] RA: Ladies and gentlemen, here is your winner: Tiger Claw! TD: What a controversial decision this is! Claw doesn't know that Casey knocked Thunder out cold with that chair... What a brutal match! LM: Here comes security to try and break this brawl up... SR: Good luck. It looks like these guys are in there for the long haul. [Security and extra officials swarm the ringside area.] TD: Fans, we're right out of time here tonight from the IIWF Coliseum! What a night of action it's been... I'll be back at you this Tuesday with another look Inside the IIWF, and we'll have more action this Wednesday night in the War Room. No doubt we'll have another incredible Saturday Night for you next weekend, as the temperature continues to rise here in the IIWF. For now, though, for my broadcast colleagues, Larry Morton and "Soundbite" Steve Roberts, this is Tim Dross, saying: so long, everybody! [The security team continues to try and separate the warring factions in the ring. 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 -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=+