[Fade up on an expanse of pure white, slowly being filled by dark thunder clouds. The camera pans down to the IIWF Coliseum. The thunderstorm has started and it's raining like cats and dogs. The camera rushes through the arena entrace, doors swinging open as it goes. Only sounds of thunder can be heard. The arena is empty, but still the camera moves on. Voice over:] VO: Tonight, there will be hell to pay! Intercontiental Champion Marty Warnett puts the gold and his _life_ on the line against the man who gave HATE a face. [Images of Warnett holding up the championship belt are faded in and out of the screen. Sounds of the crowd cheering for him can be heard in the background. Voice over continues:] VO: Respected by his peers and loved by the fans, Warnett will walk with honor into the arena. But will he leave on his back? He might. Because HELL HATH NO FURY... ["Don't Fear the Reaper" starts up. The crowd's cheers of "Mar-ty!" turn to "SKULL-PUMP!" The camera pans around the deserted ringside. The lights are all out except for one behind the ring. It illuminates only a silhouette of a cage around the ring and a lone figure with his arms raised in the centre. The darkness covers his face, but it is obvious that this is Steve "the Fury" Kowalski:] SK: I'M WAITING! [The images implode and there is nothing but a scene of a devastated ring with the cage torn down. The opening graphics explode onto the screen:] ##### ###### ### ########## ########## ########## #### ## ########## ########## ########## #### # #### ######## ##### ##### #### ## ##### #### #### #### #### ### #### #### #### #### ############# ######### #### #### ########### ######### #### #### #### #### #### ######### ######### ### #### #### ######### ######### ### ## #### ######## ######## ## # #### =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- ## =-=-=-= INTERNATIONAL INTERNET WRESTLING FEDERATION =============================================== S + A + T + U + R + D + A + Y N + I + G + H + T ----------------------------------------------- + LiVE + IIWF Coliseum + Portland, Oregon + + 1 February 1997 + [The opening graphics fade through to interior shots of the IIWF Coliseum. Twenty thousand fans line the arena from floor to ceiling, and they cheer excitedly as fireworks explode high in the rafters. The shot pans down past row upon row of merchandise-wearing children with their parents, and many small pockets of partisan fans -- a group of banner-waving Becky-ites, a small gang of teeny-bopper Marty-maniacs waving replica Intercontinental belts -- coming to rest on the broadcast table in the ringside enclosure, at which stand Tim Dross, in his standard issue IIWF suit, and "Soundbite" Steve Roberts, who wears his customary jeans, t-shirt and jacket.] TD: Welcome to Portland, Oregon! Welcome to the jam-packed IIWF Coliseum! Welcome to another edition of IIWF Saturday Night! We are live and loud here this week, folks, and what a night of wrestling action we have in store! I'm Tim Dross, and beside me, as always, is the man who puts the "bite" in "Soundbite", Steve Roberts! SR: What kind of an intro is that, Dross? [mocking] And beside me, as always, is the man who puts the "moron" in "stupid Oakie fat-assed moron", Tim Dross! TD: There's no need for that, Steve. Fans, you heard at the top of the hour about the huge Intercontinental Championship match scheduled between champion Marty Warnett and the man he defeated for the title here two weeks ago, Steve "the Fury" Kowalski. And I can confirm that these two athletes _will_ clash inside a fifteen-foot steel cage right here tonight! What a match! SR: Walnut had better be saying his prayers, Dross, because it's going to be the last chance he gets. TD: We're also going to see Lord Byron, who's coming off the back of a controversial but spectacular victory over the Subway Psycho, face the man who will battle Dan Kauffman at Ring Wars III, "Quickstrike" Chris Quigley. Quigley will also be sharing his thoughts on Kauffman's recent announcement that he would be retiring after facing Quigley in the Skydome. SR: Who cares? I thought that maybe Kauffman was going to be more bearable after he kicked Quigley's ass in the New Year, but like all New Year resolutions, his new attitude didn't last long. TD: The third -- and final -- chapter in the Brody Thunder and Tiger Claw saga will also go down right here tonight, as those two incredible athletes clash in a Texas Death Match. And both Brody Thunder and the "Outlaw" J.W. Hardin have put their IIWF careers on the line in this match -- if Thunder loses, both he and Hardin will be out on their ears! SR: Don't worry, Dross. That isn't going to happen -- Claw's nothing without the Syndicate. TD: We'll see about that. Another speciality match sees Dirt Dog Unique Allah and "Sychosys" Joe Petrow, who put on such a dazzling display for the fans here in the Coliseum two weeks ago, clash once again, this time in a Dog Collar Match. SR: Two madmen connected at the throat by a twelve-foot leather strap. Something's got to give, Dross. TD: You could be right, Steve. In tag team action, the Harlequins will be facing Otto Verhoeven and Cheshire, and Rising Sun Revolution will battle the Arabian Knights in our opening encounter in just a few moments. On top of all that, Deathbringer will return to action to face the "Epitome of Evil" Serge Annis. SR: You haven't even mentioned tonight's main event, Dross! Kauffman's going to lose about twenty pounds in weight tonight, and it's all gonna be in gold! TD: That's a distinct possibility, Steve. In tonight's main event, we will see the most unique championship match in IIWF history -- both the IIWF World Heavyweight Championship and the IIWF World Tag Team Championships will be on the line in a single six-man tag team match, as Dan Kauffman teams with the Players' Club to face the Dark Disciples and Casey "Blackheart" James. What a battle that promises to be. [Ding! Ding! Ding!] TD: But without further ado, let's get up to Sparkplug Lee for the introductions in tonight's opening matchup. =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Rising Sun Revolution vs. Arabian Knights =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= WRITER: DK [Sparkplug Lee, as clutzy as ever, manages to squat and start tying his shoelaces right as the spotlight hits him. Lee looks up, flushes a deep red, and straightens up.] SL: Oh... The following contest is a tag team contest set for one fall. Introducing first, from Ar Riyad, Saudi Arabia, at a combined weight of 595 pounds, the Arabian Knights! [The theme from "Arabian Knights" starts to play as the Knights appear at the head of the aisle. Prince Akbar chats with Omar as they come to the ring, and the crowd is significantly jeering the team. Omar is very impressive, and the glass eye gives an intimidating look to fans at ringside. The duo climb into the ring.] TD: This next match is a rematch from a few weeks backs, and you can bet the Revolution is ready to exact some revenge on the Knights here tonight! SR: Revenge? As if the Revolution is going to beat the Knights here tonight, Dross. Hell, I'd make a bet that big Omar could take them both here by himself! TD: I beg to differ, Steve. The Revolution aren't former tag champions for nothing! SR: So? Who cares, the key word in that statement is _former_, and that's all the Revolution is! [There is a loud crowd pop as the theme from "Bladerunner" kicks up on the PA, and some of the fans start to stand and rush to the ringside area.] SL: And their opponents... hailing from Japan... at a combined weight of 570 pounds, Hiroshi, Ryudo... the Rising Sun Revolution! [Hiroshi appears first, his bigger partner in tow, as fans reach over the barrier for hi-fives. Hiroshi points to the ring and gestures to the Knights, then points back to the entrance, where the Alphabet Boys appear, Elvis Lamp and all, to a huge crowd pop! Hiroshi and Ryudo then run into the ring.] SR: Great. The last thing this federation needs is more Elvis lamps... Leave it to the A-Boys to meet the supply and demand levels of the buying public. TD: That's right, all you have to do is look in the ALL-NEW IIWF Merchandise Catalogue and order the Elvis Lamp today! [Pause] The script-writing has reached a new low right here. SR: Unfourtanetly, the same can not be said for your body fat levels. TD: Leave my weight out of this, Steve! SR: In fact, it's a good idea to just avoid anything dealing with you. TD: Why me? Somebody please explain, why me? [The bell rings, and the two big men start the match off for their collective teams. Omar stands chest to chest with Hiroshi, and after an exchange of verbal slang, shoves Hiroshi, who responds with a quick knife-edge thrust to the big man's kidneys. Omar staggers back into his corner, rubbing his kidneys in pain...] TD: This match has just started, and already Omar has felt just a small taste of the Revolution's martial arts skill. SR: Big deal. All you have to do to learn martial arts is watch some ninja videos. Everyone knows that! [Omar rushes Hiroshi into a neutral corner and begins choking away in anger over the previous shot. Hiroshi uses a knee to the gut to break it up, then puts big Omar in the corner and gives him two quick side kicks before hiptossing him out! Omar gets to his feet, and Hiroshi's quickness enables him to ring Omar's arm and make a tag to Ryudo, but Omar gets away and flies back to his own corner, tagging Akbar.] SR: Well, that last exchange certainly put me asleep. The choke was a nice touch, but otherwise, this is a sleeper affair... TD: Be patient, Steve. I have a feeling the pace is about to pick up with the two lightweights in there! [Akbar runs off the ropes, and Ryudo drops to his stomach as Akbar runs over and off the opposite side, and Akbar catches Ryudo with a spinning wheel kick that floors him! Heel Pop! Akbar taunts the A-Boys on the outside, but they pay no attention as they are playing with the Elvis Lamp... Akbar brings Ryudo to his feet and issues an uppercut that straightens him. Akbar flies off the ropes with a flying forearm that takes Ryudo down again, and the cover is made... 1 -- 2 -- Kickout! Akbar brings Ryudo to his feet, and sends him into the Knights corner, then distracts the referee as Omar blatently chokes down Ryudo! Hiroshi tries to come to Ryudo's defense, which distracts the referee even more! By the time Hiroshi exits and the ref turns around, the choke is released, and Ryudo crumbles down in the Knights corner.] TD: Well, legal or not, that was certainly an effective means of teamwork employed by the Knights on that exchange... Wait a minute... look up in the stands, Steve! SR: Where? Oh, you mean there, huh?... What the... the Grand Vizier is back again! Maybe the rumors are true... TD: I don't think the Knights have noticed just yet, but I'm sure it will have an impact on them once they do... [The tag is made to Omar, who enters and uses the heel of his foot to choke down Ryudo some more. Omar braks at the count of four, and brings Ryudo up. He whips the Revolution member off the ropes, and attempts a side suplex, but Ryudo has the presence to reverse witha headscissors takedown! The big Omar isn't affected much, and as Ryudo wheels into a neutral corner trying to regain his wits, Omar charges in... right into the raised knees of Ryudo! Pop! Omar staggers back, and Ryudo hits a desperation enziguri to put Omar flat! Ryudo staggers to his corner and tags in Hiroshi! Pop! Hiroshi flies into the ring and fires away on a dazed Omar, sending him reeling back into the ropes. Hiroshi whips him off, and catches Omar in a big bear-hug on his return.] TD: That's a submission move! Hiroshi is squeesing with all his might! This could put Omar away right here! SR: Yeah, right! If you think that big Arab is going to submit or be put out by a big squeese, you are really dumber than I thought! Come on, Omar! TD: Wait a second! We've got company! Domination is in the house! [Indeed, Monster and Mistress of Domination fly down the aisle, shooting right by the unsuspecting A-Boys and leaping up onto the apron. Hiroshi sees this, and lets go of the bear hug, letting Omar fall to the canvas. Ryudo joins his brother and the two confront the members of Domination. There's some heated words exchanged, and eventually, the A-Boys get involved, pulling Domination off the apron! However, the Revolution is distracted just long enough to both be blindsided by the Arabian Knights! Heel Pop! The A-Boys and Monster start going at it while Mistress gets in her licks before the Jobber Justice Squad comes and seperates the two parties. Ryudo is thrown to the outside by Akbar, and the two Knights set up, and hit, Hiroshi with a double-vertical suplex!] TD: Talk about distractions, Domination may just have cost the Revolution any chance of winning this match! I'm sure the Revolution will want Domination soon! Omar is working over Hiroshi! SR: What a great move by Domination, and now the Knights are working the way they work best... that's aggressive! Watch this! [The tag is made to Akbar, who climbs the ropes as Omar hoists Hiroshi up on his shoulders! Akbar flies off with a cross-body, but Hiroshi somehow uses Akbar's momentum to Suplex him off of Omar's shoulders! Huge Pop! Both men lie dazed in the ring, but Hiroshi starts to move first, draging himself over to his corner! Just before he can make the tag, Akbar grabs his ankles and pulls him away, tagging Omar in the process. Omar enters and drops an elbow down on an exhausted Hiroshi, then brings him back up. Omar attempts a powerbomb, but Hiroshi slips out the back door, runs off the ropes, and catches Omar with a sweet somersault bodyblock that floors both men again!] TD: Hiroshi just pulled a great athletic maneuver out of the air, and he's 325 pounds! That was incredible! SR: Hey, all right! We've got some action now! [Akbar comes in and illegally throws a few punches in on Hiroshi, and Ryudo flies in and launches himself at Akbar, propelling both men over the ropes and to the outside of the ring! Hiroshi and Omar both start to revive, and Omar takes Hiroshi into the corner, punching at his midsection and starting a choke as the ref is outside the ring, where Ryudo reverses a whip and sends Akbar crashing into the steel steps! The CLANG! is heard through the arena, and a collective gasp goes up! Akbar lies dazed outside the ring, as inside the ring, Omar whips Hiroshi into the corner and follows in, only to be met with a HUGE clothesline that floors him! Hiroshi motions to Ryudo to climb the turnbuckle, then grabs Omar, lifts him up, and sets him...] SR: Oh no! Not the Naginata Nightmare! Come on, Akbar, get up! TD: Ryudo is perched on the top rope, and the crowd is on its feet! [Ryudo launches and connects with the legdrop as Hiroshi finishes his side suplex! Hufge Pop! The cover is made, and a last ditch effort is made by Akbar to get in the ring! 1 -- 2 -- 3! Ryudo is able to stop Akbar before he makes it to his partner! A pop resounds through the arena as the Revolution leap out of the ring and head for the dressing rooms in persiut of Domination! The A-Boys congratulate RSR before following suit.] TD: The Revolution gains their much-needed win here tonight, but that was a good match. I'm not positive we've seen the last of the Arabian Knights just yet, as they put on a great contest here tonight! SR: I can't believe those two imported losers beat the Knights. There's no justice in the world! TD: Before our next match, let's go to comments from another of the IIWF's Oriental contingent -- the White Phoenix and his mentor, Sun Tsi. [Cut to footage subtitled, "Earlier This Week." The scene is not readily identifiable... darkness. There are occasional shadows moving around, but nothing identifiable. There is the sudden sound of wood hitting flesh, a muffled scream... a raspy voice speaks from the darkness.] Sun Tsi: Some people have been questioning the sudden change in my student, The White Phoenix. You say that he has lost his mind, lost his control, lost his honor. You are fools. I have finally taught him the Way. [Another voice speaks from the darkness: the familiar voice of Shinja Chow, but with a much harder edge, and just the hint of a sneer.] Phoenix: When Master summoned me back to China, I thought it was a joke. I was absolutely certain that he had died so many years ago. And I was fully prepared to deal harshly with the people who would attempt to fool me in this way. But when I saw Master Sun for the first time, I knew it was true... and when he kicked me in the face, my neck snapped back, and the blood flowed from my nose, I knew that the final step on the Way was finally mine. I gloried in the pain. [Again, the crack of wood. The lights rise to show Chow chained hand and foot to a wall. Sun Tsi is holding a wooden rod.) Phoenix: He had been watching me from China for so many years, watching my progress until it was time. Time to teach me the reality of the Path of the Inferno. Sun Tsi: And what is that reality? [As Chow answers, each word is punctuated by Sun Tsi hitting him in the ribs with the rod.] Phoenix: Pain. [*CRACK*] Rage. [*CRACK*] Glory. [*CRACK*] Victory at all costs. [*CRACK*] Destruction without remorse. [*CRACK*] Sun Tsi: Very good, little bird. You are learning quickly. Wrestlers of the IIWF, you would be wise to learn our truth. For if you don't, you will be consumed in the flames. Phoenix: Serge Annis, you should especially listen well. I will take my revenge for Snow Brawl... you cost me a chance at the title. Prepare to face the flame. It will be very soon..... Sun Tsi: And you, Musashi. We respect your ability, but you lack the will for ultimate victory. My student will have his opportunity. He will not fail. [Sun Tsi suddenly spins and hits Chow in the face with a backhand punch. Fade to black. Cut back to ringside.] SR: What a wacko. Get it, Dross? Wacko! TD: Oh, very funny, Steve. The White Phoenix has been a different athlete since his return from China just a week ago. I'm not sure I like the changes. Well, we've got things kicked off at least here in Portland, and now we'll head on to our next match in just a minute... an interesting one indeed when Serge Annis will face Deathbringer. SR: A bunch of freaks, that's all it is, Dross. Do you suppose he'll actually pay attention to Deathbringer, or just be a psycho? TD: Who, Annis? SR: Of course Annis. TD: Let's get back to ringside. =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- Deathbringer vs. Serge Annis -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= WRITER: NN [Sparkplug Lee steps into the ring.] RA: The following matchup is set for one fall! Introducing, first, from Oakville, Ontario, Canada... ["Some Days It's Dark" starts up over the PA system.] At 293 pounds, here is Serge Annis! [The lights go out and fire starts. Nobody emerges from the curtain, however, and the crowd begins to buzz. After a few seconds, the referee motions to Sparkplug Lee to continue.] RA: And his, er, opponent is from The Dark Side! [Pop!] He weighs in at 324 pounds... a former IIWF Heavyweight Champion... [The lights go out again, this time in pitch black.] SR: What's going on here? Where's Annis? TD: Well, I guess 'Bringer has to come down to the ring to win the match... so let's see how this works out. [The lights start back up, and Sparkplug Lee looks around for Deathbringer. He cannot find him, so he continues.] RA: Ladies and gentlemen, apparently neither man has -- [A large hand taps Sparkplug Lee on the shoulder. Lee turns around and nearly jumps out of the ring to see Deathbringer standing behind him! He tries to regain his composure.] RA: Ah, already in the ring... Deathbringer! [Deathbringer slowly removes his cowl and places it, and his scythe, on the apron of the ring. He sports black clothing and a mask, through which a pair of red eyes can be spotted. Once again, Serge Annis's music, "Some Days It's Dark" by Death Lurks starts. The Deathbringer looks mildly annoyed, as Serge still does not appear. Suddenly, the lights go out again.] TD: Well, Deathbringer doesn't get a match apparently, and so it looks as if he's now going to leave too! SR: Yep, he turned the lights out... I guess he'll just disappear back into the mortuary again. [A crimson spotlight focuses on the center of the ring where Deathbringer stands. "Sweet Dreams" by Marilyn Manson then starts, and, from the ceiling, dozens of black roses begin to fall, illuminated by the spotlight. Deathbringer looks at them in confusion as they fall at his feet. The crowd screams in fright as Serge Annis descends from the rafters, with the word "HATE" on his right cheek, and a large cut on the left. Beneath the gash is some white paint. He is wearing black pants.] TD: Here is one crazy man. RA: Now making his way down... from the ceiling, Serge Annis! [Annis hits the ring, and ignores Deathbringer. Annis pulls out a knife and kneels in the center of the ring, light hitting him. The crowd shrieks in horror as Serge proceeds to unemotionally cut himself down the left cheek, reopening the wound.] TD: Er, fans... we apologise for this graphic footage. Can we cut to a wide angle shot please? SR: Don't you dare! Stay on this! [Blood runs down from the laceration as people look away in nausea, covering the face paint, and making an interesting symbol. He gets back to his feet and hands the knife to an attendant, who is very apprehensive about handling it.] SR: What a lunatic... to cut yourself like that? It's unreal... TD: I wouldn't want to handle that knife! Heavens to Betsy... SR: Nice one Dross. Let's get back to the match. TD: What match? Nothing's started yet! [The bell sounds.] SR: There. [The two men lock up in the center of the ring. Deathbringer uses his slight size advantage to force Serge into the corner, and the referee calls for a break. Serge reaches for Deathbringer's eyes as he backs away, but the 'Bringer blocks it, and twists Serge's arm. Annis winces in pain, and Deathbringer steps in with a short clothesline. Serge is back up quickly, but Deathbringer takes him down with another clothesline. He covers - 1 - 2 - kickout. Annis gets back to his feet and steps back, trying to slow down the pace a bit.] TD: Serge Annis is getting it taken to him in the early stages of the match by the Reaper. SR: At least the bleeding has stopped... for now. [Deathbringer charges in and nails Serge with an elbow. He falls back into the corner, and Deathbringer follows up with a series of fists. As the Reaper swings for a haymaker, Serge ducks and is able to hit Deathbringer low... below the belt. The referee warns Serge, but as Deathbringer keels over, Annis grabs him by the mask and whips him back to the canvas.] TD: That was low... figuratively and literally. SR: Good move. [Annis walks in and drops an elbow, but the man from the Dark Side rolls out of the way and gets back to his feet, stalking Serge. Serge backpedals, trying to escape, but is gets tangled in the ropes! Heel pop! Deathbringer, realizing the advantage he has, takes his time, kicking and stomping away at Annis's midsection. He then heads to the opposite ropes, and executes a clothesline which sends both men over the top rope to the outside!] TD: We've seen a new look Deathbringer as of late, Steve. He's awfully brutal, and I think he knows just exactly what he wants out of the IIWF. SR: Well, he got the shot at Kauffman back at Snow Brawl, but got screwed out of it at the hands of Chris Quigley's chair shot. He's looking for Quigley, and I'm sure that he feels Kauffman has fled the IIWF, just to get away from Deathbringer! TD: Kauffman isn't fleeing. SR: Sure he's not, whatever! [Deathbringer grabs a chair nearby. He moves the referee out of the way, and as Annis gets back up, he smashes it across the scarred face. Blood begins to seep from the cut, and Deathbringer begins to choke Annis.] TD: He'd like to hit more than one Canadian with that chair I'm sure. SR: Oh yeah. Quigley, Kauffman... TD: Kauffman? He's not Canadian. SR: I thought Canadian was a slang term for idiot. TD: I'll be sure to remind the Canadian fans of that remark when we're at Skydome for Ring Wars III. SR: Why would Canadians come to Syracuse to watch Ring Wars III? TD: Because it's great action. Syracuse? What are...? Good grief. [As Roberts chuckles, Deathbringer flings Annis back into the ring and covers - 1 - 2 - kickout. Deathbringer pulls Annis back to his feet, and pushes him against the ropes. Serge grabs onto the rope, however, and headbutts the 'Bringer between the eyes. Deathbringer staggers backwards, and Annis charges in, taking him down with a leaping clothesline. Serge is quick to follow up, dragging the dark destroyer back to his feet and then back to the canvas with a DDT. Pop! Cover - 1 - 2 - kickout.] SR: Annis begins to mount a rally here... [Annis goes to a chinlock, and tries to keep the big man down. He is unable to, and so Deathbringer backdrops Serge. Both men are down for a brief moment, before Deathbringer gets back up and drops a leg across the back of Annis's head. He drags Annis back to his feet, and lifts him high above his head in a military press. The crowd begins to cheer, and Deathbringer drops him in the center of the ring. He stalks around the ring, looking into the crowd.] TD: What a move by Deathbringer! What strength! SR: Yeah, yeah, but why isn't he covering the man? TD: I don't know... he appears to be looking for somebody... maybe Quigley? SR: I would be too, if it weren't for my injury. TD: Yeah, the same one which kept you out of the Ronnie Paris match? [laughs] [Deathbringer places Serge's throat across the ropes. He presses him into the bottom rope for a second, before bouncing to the opposite ropes and landing on his back! Annis clutches his throat in agony. Deathbringer covers - 1 - 2 - Annis's foot is underneath the rope, therefore the ref stops counting.] TD: Deathbringer got a little lazy there, not hooking the far leg. SR: He should have just dragged him up and performed the Burial, then hooking the leg becomes academic, Dross. I'd always have my opponents unconscious, so there was no need for trivial details like hooking the leg. TD: Yeah, too bad Ronnie Paris didn't see that last week. [Deathbringer swings Serge into the ropes. He heads for the other side, and nails Serge with a flying clothesline on the rebound. He covers, this time hooking a leg - 1- 2 - kickout! Deathbringer cannot believe it. He snaps the man back up, and suplexes him sloppily. Suddenly, the crowd begins to stir. Deathbringer looks toward the aisle, and, realizing that there could be trouble, quickly covers - 1 - 2 - kickout.] SR: It's Shinja Chow! TD: What's he doing here? SR: Who cares?! [The White Phoenix gets closer to the ring, carrying a burning torch. Deathbringer wonders what the deal is, and then snaps up Annis, sending him to the ropes. Annis nails Deathbringer with a drop kick. He covers - 1 - 2 - kickout. As Chow inches in, Annis ignores him and headbutts the stunned Deathbringer down to the canvas.] TD: Can he bring a _torch_ to ringside? SR: Well, Annis usually brings a lighter, so a torch is pretty similar... TD: Similar? One is about two inches tall, another is a flaming stick! SR: Whatever it takes. TD: I do realize that Chow's dojo was burned to the ground, but why a torch? SR: Shut up, and maybe you'll find out. [Annis sends Deathbringer for the ride, but the Reaper reverses it, sending Annis in. From the outside, the White Phoenix grabs Annis's foot, tripping him. The referee begins to force Chow to leave when Annis turns and threatens him. As Annis reaches down to swipe at him, the Phoenix blows, and sends a fireball into the face of Annis! Shocked pop! Annis throws up his hands and crashes back to the canvas, clutching his face in pain. The bell sounds.] TD: Oh my! Tas that awful! Get him out of here! SR: Wow! I didn't know Chow had the balls to do that! TD: That was despicable! RA: Ladies and gentlemen, The White Phoenix's interference in this match has caused a disqualification. The winner is Serge Annis! [Chow makes his way out of the area, chased by an angered Deathbringer. Annis lays on the floor, clutching his face. Some medics enter the ring, and move Annis's hands away from his face to reveal a burned right cheek, and burned hands. He was able to shield his left one, but he is badly burned elsewhere.] SR: At least he covered his cut. Can you imagine fire in that fresh cut? Ouch. TD: I can't imagine anything like that happening at all to me. Geez... I hope he's alright. [The EMTs try to help him out, but Annis pushes them away and heads up the aisle. He is calling out the Phoenix's name, as he sprints toward the back.] TD: Folks, I'm shocked. What a horrible attack by the White Phoenix! We'll try and get an update on Annis' condition before we leave you tonight. Next up on tonight's docket is a big tag team grudge match: Cheshire and Otto Verhoeven vs. The Harlequins, the lovable Tragedy and Chaos. SR: And hopefully one of these guys will get burned in the face too! TD: That's an awful thing to say... I still can not get over the fact that the White Phoenix would do such a thing. Before we get back up to the ring, let's go and hear from the Harlequins, who are in the locker room with Larry Morton. Larry? [Cut to the Harlequins in their dressing room. Tragedy is wearing a black and white version of his regular outfit and is wearing makeup in the style of The Crow. The other Harlequins are in their traditional ring attire.] LM: Larry Morton here with The Harlequins, and I must say I'm glad I'm in this locker room and not with Verhoeven and Cheshire right now. CHAOS: What's that supposed to mean? LM: Uh, nothing it's just.... COMEDY: Larry's afraid of clowns! CHAOS: You're kidding! COMEDY AND MELODY: [singing] Larry's afraid of clowns! Larry's afraid of clowns! Larry's afraid of clowns! LM: Comedy, please! TRAGEDY: Quiet! He's here. [The four get silent as the door slowly opens. The silhouette of a man can be seen.] LM: Hey! That's.... [Chaos cover's Morton's mouth.] CHAOS: Hello sir, I mean, fa... MAN: We'll have time to talk later little one. The two of you know what to do... TRAGEDY: Yes we do. [Turns to the others] Let's go. MELODY: Yeah! We're gonna get that clown! COMEDY: And Cheshire too! Hahahahahaha! [The Harlequins leave] LM: Ladies and gentlemen. I don't know if you saw. But that was the... CHAOS: Show's over! [Loss of signal. Cut back to ringside.] TD: Larry? Larry! SR: The idiot's probably pulled the power cord. TD: Well, some mysterious figure is apparently going to accompany the Harelquins out to the ring tonight. Let's get up to Sparkplug Lee for the introductions. =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- The Harlequins vs. Otto "the Butcher" Verhoeven & Cheshire -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= WRITER: NN [Sparkplug Lee clambers through the ropes once more.] RA: Ladies and gentlemen, the following tag team contest is set for one fall! [The theme to John Carpenter's "Halloween" starts. A sizable heel pop erupts from the crowd as Otto Verhoeven comes through the curtain, scowling at the fans. Verhoeven, at 6'8", is wearing a black singlet and black boots, along with fingerless crimson gloves. He is followed by the beautiful Nurse Heidi and Cheshire, who is laughing profusely. He is decked out in a red and green striped t-shirt, along with colorful pants.] RA: Making their way down the aisle, team number one this evening... at a combined weight of 560 pounds, both from Germany, here are Cheshire and Otto "The Butcher" Verhoeven!!! TD: Here's a look at a man who really wants to hurt somebody... and that's Otto Verhoeven. SR: Well, he unfortunately got cheated out a match with the Subway Psycho a while back, got fried on that steel plate, but this time the rules are _not_ stacked against the Butcher, look for him to go to town. TD: These Harlequins have given Otto trouble lately, and perhaps, this is the toughest opponent of the Butcher... SR: Oh please. The toughest opponent for the Butcher is usually the coroner stopping him from beating the dead carcass. ["My Lover's Box" by Garbage begins to play, and with that, the fun begins. The crowd begins to laugh as Harlequin Comedy and Harlequin Melody lead the way, Melody passing out replicas of the Tragedy/Comedy masks, and Comedy bonking everyone in sight on the head with the Happy Hammer, which this time is blue with a red stripe on it. It makes a loud "SQUEAK" sound, and everyone seems to love it, except for the Butcher and Cheshire, who are protesting to the referee.] RA: The opponents, about to make their way down the aisle, being led by Harlequins Comedy and Melody... from Sleepy Hollow, Illinois... at a combined weight of 545 pounds, here are Tragedy and Chaos, the Harlequins! TD: What's their problem? This is just a fun toy... SR: Fun toy? I've seen that fun toy take out many a limb as of late... it should be banned from ringside. TD: Maybe they should check it... see if it's got any pop to it. [Harlequin Chaos and Harlequin Tragedy emerge behind them, pointing at the crowd. Comedy flips a switch on the Happy Hammer and presses a button, which sends colorful silly string flying into the crowd. The fans love it even more, and one man asks to be hit with the hammer. Comedy flips yet another switch, and hits the man over the head. The result is a loud bullhorn noise which makes it sound as if a semi is on the way. The crowd pops at the antics.] SR: He he. I don't care much for these guys, but they sure are fun to watch. TD: But pretty tough in the ring, too. They're not just comedians, they're out to wrestle. SR: We'll find out. [Tragedy and Chaos enter the ring. Verhoeven and Cheshire roll out under the bottom rope as Tragedy takes the microphone from Sparkplug Lee.] TRAGEDY: Ladies and gentlemen, it is an honor to introduce to you the man responsible for everything my brother and I are. I bring you, our father, THE PUPPET MASTER! SR: That guy's got a lot to answer for, Dross. [The camera hits a man in dark blue tights and a white lab coat. He, too is wearing a mask and glasses. He is sitting in the front row.] SR: Wow. TD: Hey, he was an accomplished technician, and don't you forget it, Steve. SR: I was an accomplished technician as well. The old announcers, heck Dross, you're probably old enough to have done some of matches, would always say things like, "look at that Greco-Roman hairdrag takedown." [As Tragedy puts down the microphone, he and Chaos are immediately attacked by the German tandem. Otto and Cheshire charge in with clotheslines, but the Harlequins duck, and fire back with a dropkick each. Otto hits the mat and rolls to the outside, while Cheshire stays in the ring. The bell sounds. The ref tries to force Tragedy to the outside, but he swings Cheshire into the ropes. Chaos stands behind his brother as Cheshire launches himself with a cross body block. Tragedy ducks, and Cheshire flies right into the arms of Harlequin Chaos!] SR: Get out of there! TD: Double teaming early, nice job by the Harlequins. [Otto drags himself back up to the apron, but Tragedy meets him with an elbow to the face. Chaos plants Cheshire with a huge backbreaker and covers - 1 - 2 - kickout. Tragedy then quickly hops on and hooks a leg - 1 - 2 - kickout. Chaos then plants an elbow into the chest of a winded Cheshire. Pop! Cheshire is slow back to his feet, and is taken down by a Chaos body slam. Tragedy leaves the ring, taunting Otto, and the Harlequin women harass the clowny Cheshire.] SR: Don't make Otto mad! He'll get you. TD: They're just playful characters. I don't think they mean any harm. SR: Just like the Happy Hammer that squeaks one second and maims the next? TD: It doesn't maim. It just makes a sound like an eighteen wheeler. SR: I can imagine you as a truck driver, Dross... with that receding hairline and beer belly of yours... TD: I do not have a beer belly! [Chaos drags Cheshire back to his feet, and swings him to the ropes. Cheshire is able to duck a clothesline, and he hits Chaos with a dropkick on the run. He is quick to tag to Otto Verhoeven, who steps over the top rope.] SR: The tag to the big man... the former champ Otto Verhoeven! [Otto comes into the ring and points at Tragedy on the apron. Tragedy motions for Otto to bring it on, who obliges, attacking the man from over the rope. Tragedy fires right back, and just when he is about to be overwhelmed, Chaos slides into position behind Otto, and Tragedy gives him a shove, sending Otto flying back to the ground! Pop!] TD: Schoolyard tactics here, and Otto's on the mat! [Chaos reaches down for a roll up - 1 - 2 - kickout. The Puppet Master yells something from the crowd, which Tragedy acknowledges. Chaos picks Otto up, in an amazing display of strength, and tags to Tragedy. Tragedy bounces off the rope, and as Chaos slams him down, leaps through the air with a big splash - 1 - Cheshire comes through the ropes - 2 - Chaos cuts the clown off - kickout. Chaos is able to force Cheshire out of the ring, and a fight ensues on the floor between the two.] TD: Great job so far by the Harlequins to keep the opponents off balance... changing things up every now and then is very effective. SR: I don't think they've got much of a shot, though. They just can't handle the Butcher. [Tragedy, in control, whips Otto to the turnbuckle, but the big man reverses it, sending Tragedy in. Otto follows, but Tragedy counters with a leapfrog into a sunset flip - 1 - 2 - kickout. Otto gets back up, and rocks an unexpecting Tragedy with a right hook. Tragedy staggers against the ropes, and Otto hooks him for a suplex. As Otto brings him up for the ride, Tragedy is able to shift his weight, landing behind Otto. Tragedy winds up and nails Otto with a superkick, which sends the former World champion out to the floor. Pop!] TD: They sure are "handling the Butcher" so far! [Chaos continues to brawl, pummeling both Otto and Cheshire at once. Cheshire is finally able to get a thumb into Chaos's eye, which stuns him. As Otto reaches over to grab the big man, Tragedy stops him with a massive plancha from the apron! The referee leaps onto the floor, trying to control the action, and the Harlequin women rush over to the Puppet Master to talk about strategy. Nurse Heidi, in the other corner, simply shrieks to the official for him to do something. It doesn't help. Otto finally gets thrown back into the ring, and Chaos returns to the apron. Tragedy rams Cheshire's head into the apron, before hopping up there himself.] SR: What a brawl! This is uncanny... all the fighting. TD: It's a match up of mirror image styles, Steve. Cheshire and Tragedy are very much alike in the ring, and Chaos and Otto are likewise. [Otto, frustrated, tags to a reeling Cheshire. Cheshire storms the ring, but is immediately taken down by a drop toe hold of Tragedy's. Tragedy quickly slides up and applies a STF/chinlock manoeuvre on Cheshire, who screams in pain. The referee asks him if he'd like to throw it in, but he will not, so Tragedy lets him up after a while. Cheshire swings at him, but Tragedy ducks and returns fire with an inverted atomic drop. Cover - 1 - 2 - kickout.] SR: What reeks? TD: I have no idea about what you're talking about, Steve. [A streak of color comes sprinting down to the ringside. Otto turns around and becomes incensed, attacking the streak. It turns out to be the Subway Psycho, so, of course, the chants of "Psy - cho! Psy - cho!" start. Cheshire, hurting in the ring, yells to Otto for some help, but he does not oblige. As the Psycho and Otto brawl, Cheshire is able to lure Tragedy into the corner and fling him into the buckle. Tragedy comes back and is back body dropped and covered - 1 - 2 - kickout.] SR: Cheshire still fighting in there... he's got a shot. TD: He's in big trouble, admit it, Steve. [Cheshire charges in and takes Tragedy down with a clothesline. He heads to the outside, and perches himself on the top rope. The crowd jeers as Cheshire launches himself with a flying Frankensteiner, which slams Tragedy's head into the mat. He covers - 1 - save by Chaos.] SR: That's unfair! Who's there to prevent interference? TD: Otto left... tough cookies. [Otto, not even worrying about the ring, beats on Psycho on the outside, who fights right back. The referee tries to break it up, but to no avail. Cheshire stands over the wounded Tragedy, calling for the Humorizer. Harlequin Melody hops onto the apron and begins singing to Cheshire, trying to calm him down. Cheshire only beckons for the ref to clear her out of the way, but then realizes that there is no referee. In the meantime, Comedy runs around the other side, and waves the hammer around, trying to get Chaos's attention. Nurse Heidi, realizing what is about to happen, runs over to stop the chicanery, but, in the struggle, Comedy is able to hit Heidi with the hammer! Pop as Heidi hits the floor!] SR: Not harmless, that's for sure... that's gonna cost her a Sedative later, just watch! [Comedy throws the Happy Hammer to Harlequin Chaos, who charges the ring and nails the distracted Cheshire in the back of the leg. It makes a bullhorn noise again, and Cheshire crashes to the mat in pain. Pop! Tragedy is helped to his feet by Harlequin Chaos, who goes to get the referee. He cheap shots Otto while out there, rocking the big man. The Psycho nods in appreciation. Tragedy points at his father in the crowd, who, for the first time tonight, rises to his feet and begins cheering adamantly.] TD: It's all over for Cheshire! [As the ref runs back to the ring, escorted by Harlequin Chaos, the two enemies on the outside brawl. In the ring, Harlequin Tragedy cinches up a scorpion deathlock -- The Tragic Ending. Cheshire fights, but Tragedy is able to make the last step over. He is facing his father, beaming with pride. Cheshire yells for help, but looks up to see Otto preoccupied in the aisle. He gives up, and the referee calls for the bell.] SR: No! TD: The winners are the Harlequins... Chaos and Tragedy!!! [The Puppet Master climbs over the rail and joins all four Harlequins in celebration. Cheshire is quickly ejected from the ring, while Otto is brawling on the floor.] SR: Otto was too busy tonight... damn Psycho. [Security swarm down the aisle and fight to separate Verhoeven and the Psycho.] TD: You heard the Psycho's challenge yesterday, Steve -- he's going to put up $100,000, as long as the IIWF and Verhoeven meet the same amount. A purse of three hundred grand! SR: The way they're brawling out there now, you'd think they were wrestling for that purse already! [Finally, the security team manages to force the two brawling athletes back towards the locker room. Meanwhile, the four Harlequins and the Puppet Master make their way up the aisle, continuing to entertain the crowd with their Happy Hammer.] TD: Before we go to our next match, there's apparently a little confusion over the whereabouts of Tiger Claw, who's scheduled to face Brody Thunder in that huge Texas Death Match later on tonight. I understand Larry Morton may be able to shed a little light on this situation. Larry? [Cut to Larry Morton standing backstage in a corridor.] LM: Thanks, Tim... I think that we've been able to track Claw down. He sent a memo to the head bookers tonight explaining his lack of words lately, and maybe he can shed some light for the fans tonight... [Larry walks down the hall to a dressing room, and knocks on the door. The door bursts open, and Tiger Claw is seen on the other side with a fist raised. Upon seeing Larry, he relaxes, looks out into the hallway, and allows Larry into the room. Claw closes the door.] LM: What was that about? TC: Sorry, Larry. Just some precautions that I've had to take. You know as well as I the lengths the Syndicate will go to when it comes to ex-members. Look at Joe Latta and Hakiro Matsuoko. LM: So it's true? You're out of the Syndicate? TC: As far as I'm concerned, yes. LM: What about your contract? TC: Well, I'm not a business man. I don't deal with paper that well. My contract may still have Brian Lau as my manager, but I can assure you that I am through with him. My talents are in the ring, and not with the pettiness of ink. LM: I see. Where have you been this past week? TC: Well, I'm sure you can sympathise with my need to collect my thoughts after what happened last Saturday. I have fired the man that has been with me for many years throughout my career. I went to my homeland to remind myself why I got into this business. I realized one thing above all others. I realized that I actually do enjoy the support of those who watch me preform my art. The people of Thailand were behind me no matter what I did. That is refreshing. I regret some of the things I've done in the IIWF, and it's nice to see that there are those who can see it in their hearts to forgive me. However, I found that there was something lacking. I think I need the support of the fans in America as well. LM: You've been a rulebreaker ever since your debut in the IIWF. Your feuds with Hakiro Matsuoko and the Subway Psycho are almost legendary. TC: Yes, I know. Even though I look at those rivalries as the meetings of two great warriors, there were some things that I did that were less than honourable. I feel that I must atone for those wrongdoings. LM: I'm sorry... I'm a little blown away by all of this. TC: So am I, Larry... So am I. LM: What about your Texas Death Match with Brody Thunder tonight? TC: It is a match that I am looking forward to with much anticipation. Our first encounter was less than honourable, and our second one was tainted by the interference by the Syndicate. I watched the tapes from the Strap Match last Saturday. Even though I got the decision, I am ashamed of the way I won it. Tonight, I will meet Thunder in the ring, and I hope that we can resolve this. Whether I win or lose, I will have respect for Thunder. We are not that different, he and I. He is a warrior of the West, I am a warrior of the East. We both are tough individuals, and I hope the better man will prevail. I have to admit that I'd prefer it if I were that man, but if not, so be it. I want the respect of the fans. I want to get in line for the Intercontinental title that I once held. This time, though, I want to hold it with pride. LM: Any words for the Syndicate? TC: At one time the Syndicate was about great warriors. Now it is about a stalker and devil worship. Casey James, I taught you most of what you know. Don't cross me. LM: Some are billing Casey as the next IIWF world champ. TC: He very well may be after tonight. The gang mentality of the Syndicate can be effective even if they are not honourable. If Casey does capture the title, then so be it. I will still be better than him. LM: But he's so big... TC: Size does not matter. Heart and skill do. This is why I question Casey's talent, and respect that of Chris Quigley, Creed, and Marty Warnett. I can only hope that one day I can either work with them or meet them in the ring in glorious combat. LM: You've got a strange outlook on life, Tiger Claw. TC: Think about it for a while, Larry. You'll find that it's not so unusual. LM: Well, thank you for your time... Back to you, Tim. [Cut back to the announcers' table.] SR: He's gone soft, Dross. TD: I don't know about that, Steve. Tiger Claw in pensive mood there, folks. Coming up next, here on IIWF Saturday Night, we have a match that is sure to be a real treat for these fans. SR: No, Dross, no matter how many cards and letters I get, I won't be returning to full time action -- but Lord Byron is your next best bet. He should be a man on a mission after his distruction of the Subway Psycho last week. When he gets this win, he'll jump right into that IC title hunt. TD: There's a man by the name of "Quickstrike" Chris Quigley... SR: Who? TD: ...who might have something to say about that. Quigley and IIWF champion Dan Kauffman have been si... hold on... well, we have a special guest who -- apparently -- will be joining us for ringside commentary for this match... Mad Dog Watkins! [Watkins puts on a pair of headphones at the announce table, ignoring the outstretched hand of Steve Roberts, who now stands to face him.] SR: Maybe you're a little confused, "Mad Dog". This table is for broadcast journalists, if you're looking for the pound -- it's down the street. TD: Why are you out here, Mad Dog? MDW: One, [points to Roberts] you keep your damn mouth shut when I'm out here. There's a man on the mic now. As for your question, Dross, why am I out here? Because I can be. That and Spreadbury hates the fact that one of his biggest names isn't on camera night in and night out, since the rest of his men keep playing the duck and dodge with me. I think he's probably sitting back there praying that you'll [points to Roberts, again] open your big assed mouth one too many times -- and I'll snap and drop you like the punk you are. SR: [pause] Let's get to ringside. =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- Lord Byron vs. "Quickstrike" Chris Quigley -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= WRITER: JJ [Sparkplug Lee appears to be absentmindedly mouthing the words to "Copacabana" as he takes the mic...] SL: The following contest is set for one fall. Introducing first, at a weight of 265lbs, currently residing in New Orleans, Louisiana -- LordByron! [As Intermezzo from Karelia Suite begins, Byron emerges from the back, again without Lady DeWinter, but he does have his brass topped cane which he waves with a dramatic flourish as he steps into the ring.] TD: That's the cane that Byron used to steal a victory from the Subway Psycho last week. SR: How would you like to feel the top of that cane buried in your back, Watkins? I think I could arrange that. MDW: How would you like to feel my foot kicking your ass, Roberts? I damn well know I can arrange that. SL: His opponent, from Corner Brook, Newfoundland, Canada [Big face pop as "For Those About to Rock begins] he weighs 238lbs -- "Quickstrike" Chris Quigley! [The sunglasses are off early as Quigley makes a brisk walk down the aisle, seemingly intent on going right after Lord Byron. Quigley passes by, however, and acknowledges the fans from each corner as he hits the ring.] TD: Mad Dog, you're a ring veteran and have certainly seen each of these men a number of times. Do you have any thoughts about this matchup? MDW: Heh, Quigley's nothin' but a snot-nosed punk who I just cannot stand. But Lord Byron -- there's something about that guy I like. We come from different worlds, but you can tell by looking at him that he's got the fire deep inside. SR: Yeah, that's real expert analysis, "Mad Dog." Hope you got something to fall back on after your wrestling career's over -- 'cause you got no future in broadcasting. MDW: Dammit, Roberts, you'd better call your momma and tell her you ain't gonna make it home for supper tonight. TD: I might enjoy this after all. [Byron and Quigley approach each other quickly, Byron offering a collar and elbow lockup with Quigley accepting. Byron quickly manuevers into an armbar and then converts to a double wristlock. Byron slowly lowers Quigley to the mat, the smaller "Quickstrike" easily overpowered. Quigley, however, shows his nimbleness with a spin into a reverse wristlock and a power up into a standing side headlock. Byron counters with a go behind into a hammerlock which Quigley surprisingly powers out of with a hiptoss and a quick cover - 1 - kickout and both men are up to a vertical base.] TD: Exactly what we were expecting early on from these outstanding technicians. MDW: I like that double wristlock early from Byron, the boy can go. Let's see how long Quigley's gonna stay on the mat with him. I gotta think that Quigley's gonna get anxious 'fore too much longer. [The two technicians continue to trade holds, Quigley actually seeming to get the better of him on the mat, but Byron breaking on two or three occasions with eye gouges. Quigley has been able to keep his cool, however, and has Byron down in a reverse chinlock.] TD: Mad Dog Watkins, you have to be impressed by the sheer ability of these two men. MDW: I don't have to do nothin'. I said, I got respect for Byron, but even he don't want a part of me. No one wanted to accept my contract for tonight. I was promised real competition when I came to the IIWF. Where is it at? It's gotta be hard to wrestle when most of these guys don't have a backbone to speak of. [Byron has regained his base and each man has applied a lengthy armbar, Quigley is able to reverse Byron's and whips him to the corner, Quigley charges - but Byron catches him into an atomic drop! Pop! Byron Irish whips Quigley, as he rises; but Quigley reverses. Byron ducks a clothesline and the two go for a second pass. Quigley drops to the mat as Byron leaps over and the two go for a third pass, this time with Chris Quigley ducking and reversing his momentum to execute a quick crucifix into a sunset flip and a cover - 1 - 2 - No! And Byron is up with a hard lariat which sends Quigley crashing to the mat. Byron picks up Quigley into another Irish whip, Quigley seems set for a pass, but Byron surprises him with a big backdrop that sends Quigley to the mat hard on his left shoulder. Byron covers for - 1 - but Quigley reverses into an inside cradle for 1 - 2 - No! Byron kicks out and then kicks Quigley, landing an uncharactersitic hard boot to the face before returning to the mat with a grapevine. Heel pop!] TD: Neither man able to take control, here, Steve Roberts. SR; What match are you watching, Dross? Byron's all over this guy, like the fleas and cheap booze are all over Watkins. MDW: Boy, if you think you got something, how 'bout you accept my open contract? No one else wants none. SR: Well, I have the back... [Byron continues the pressure on Quigley's legs, seeming to focus on the right knee, Quigley has managed to reverse the hold once, only to take a slap to the face from Byron, causing Quigley to miss a wil right hand, putting him back in the hold.] TD: Well, Mad Dog, there is one man who seems to be interested in stepping in the ring with you, judging from that scene Wednesday night. How do you assess the talents of young Creed, a man who defeated this same Lord Byron? MDW: Creed. Kid's gonna be a good one, no doubt about it, but he's still awful green. Pup had better put in some more ring time 'fore he bites off more than he can chew. [Quigley is able to reach the ropes and the official breaks the hold, "Quickstrike" quickly scurries to the corner and seems to really be favoring his leg and shoulder as he reaches the buckle -- only to be met with a rake to the back by the awfully chippy Byron. Quigley turns and fires back with a right hand and then another right hand, earning a crowd pop as he corner whips Byron -- but Byron reverses and sends Quigley hard through the ropes, ramming his already injured shoulder into the ringspost! Big heel pop! Byron wastes no time in hopping from the ring, as Quigley remains on the ropes, slinging Quigley's arm hard into the post two, three, four times. Quigley rolls off and is crumpled in the corner as Byron advances, landing a series of hard boots to the chest that leave Quigley down and the fans booing a now posing Lord Byron!] SR: Say it, Dross. Say it! Lord Byron is dominating Chris Quigley! TD: You have to be impressed by the game plan. Lord Byron has really worn down "Quickstrike". MDW: I'll tell you what he's done, he's gone right after Quigley's leg and his shoulder -- he's gettin' him ready for that Aristoclutch. SR: Oh, would I like to see Quigley submit! That would make it all worthwhile. MDW: How 'bout shuttin' your ass up, Roberts?! That would be worth my while. [Byron resumes his attack on Quigley's leg, this time with a half-crab, but "Quickstrike" is able to break the hold and both men are again at a vertical base, Byron whips Quigley farside, but Quigley deftly takes him down with a drop toe hold and then applies, clearly with a sense of urgency, a figure four leglock! The face pop changes before it even forms as Quigley doesn't have the strength to keep in on and Lord Byron reverses the hold into his own figure four! Quigley fights to the ropes but his shoulders are down for a - 1 - 2 - Up... and then down again - 1 - 2 - Up! Quigley's shoulder barely beats the three count, leading Byron to briefly look up at the official -- and Quigley to seize the opportunity with an all-out kick to the chest that sends Byron sliding underneath the ropes and clear out to the floor! Big pop! Byron begins to stir as Quigley desperately climbs to the top rope...] TD: He's going up! Chris Quigley is going up! [Byron tentatively reaches his feet as Quigley leaps to the floor... and rocks Byron with a fist to the face! Big Pop!] TD: A lightning strike from the top rope to the floor! Unbelievable! MDW: That'll turn a man's face in a hurry. Byron's in a spot here. [Quigley capitalizes, sending Byron into the retaining barrier with a slingshot. Quigley is all over Byron with two reverse knife edges, and then whips the Englishman hard into the base of the apron! Pop! Quigley charges -- and his caught with a high knee. Byron straps his arm high on the back of Quigley's head...] TD: DDT! DDT! Lord Byron has just DDT'd Chris Quigley right out on the floor! SR: It's over! Yes! Yes! MDW: I don't know how much Byron's got in his tank at this point. Don't know how much either of them got. [Byron picks up Quigley and slowly tosses him back into the ring.] TD: I think Byron's got to go for the Aristoclutch, Mad Dog. Quigley will never be... [the lights in the arena flicker] Hold on! [Big Pop!] Hold On! [A large figure begins to make his way to the ring] It's the Deathbringer! [Deathbringer reaches ringside, drawing the attention of Byron who is then rolled into a quick small package by Quigley - 1 - 2 - kickout. Quigley is now up, and fires away with right hands, sending Byron back into the corner. Quigley corner whips and Byron reverses - but Quigley is able to gather his momentum and spring off the ropes back at Byron for a flying forearm! Which he lands -- but not on Lord Byron. Byron is able to guide the official in front of him, slipping the blow which instead strikes the official with full force -- leaving him unconscious.] SR: Quigley just hit the ref. That's a DQ! That's a DQ! TD: What are you watching, Steve Roberts? Lord Byron obviously pulled the official in front of him! If anybody should be disqualified, it's Byron! MDW: I think you boys had better pay attention to the ring here, looks like the big fella' might have himself a notion. [Deathbringer is now pointing at the stunned Quigley, who disregards both him and the downed offcial and goes back to work on Lord Byron. Quigley Irish whips Byron into a side Russian leg sweep, then drives a knee into Byron's groin. Quigley holds up Byron's legs as his fans cheer wildly -- and drives another knee to the groin. Byron writhes on the mat as Quigley goes quickly to the midrope -- and comes down with a measured elbow to the throat! Big pop!] TD: It's all over! Quigley's about to pop the Quickstriker on Lord Byron! Over! MDW: Ref's still down, Dross. SR: But the dead man is getting up! Deathbringer is on the apron! [Quigley does put Byron in the Quickstriker, but only momentarily as he sees the Deathbringer and moves to the apron to confront him. The crowd rises collectively as these two men go nose to nose. Quigley growing more and more animated as 'Bringer refuses to leave. Quigley gives Deathbringer a shove to the chest and the big man counters with a right hand -- that Quigley blocks! Quigley sets for a right of his own -- but is hit over the back of the head by Lord Byron's cane! Big heel pop! Quigley stumbles and falls right in the middle of the ring. Byron atempts to cover -- but Deathbringer enters and shoves him away! Deathbringer picks up Quigley to his feet... and chokeslams him down to the mat! Big Pop! Deathbringer exits as Byron quickly covers, nudging the nearby official with his foot. The official now raises his head and sees the lateral press and moves in for a slow count of - 1 -- 2 -- 3! Ding! Ding! Ding!] TD: I can't believe it! SL: Your winner, as a result of a pinfall -- Lord Byron! [Heel pop as Byron quickly heads from the ring, hands raised in victory.] TD: Ridiculous! Lord Byron has used that cane in back to back weeks to garner huge victories over first the Subway Psycho, and now Chris Quigley. MDW: Hey, use what you gotta use. If Quigley hadn't gone after the dead guy out there, he would have got his win. TD: Not particularly sporting of you, Mr. Watkins. MDW: Let me tell you something, Dross. I am Mad Dog Watkins. When I get up in the morning, I'm not afraid to look in the mirror, 'cause I see a man who stands up for what he believes in. A man who can take pride in knowing that he is one of the hardest workers in and out of the ring -- and that effort translates to success. [Chris Quigley has now risen - and slaps the mat with his right hand when he realizes that he has been defeated. Quigley shakes his head and then waves to Tim Dross at the announce table. Dross drops his headset and heads into the ring, carrying a microphone. Quigley rubs his neck. He is clearly incensed.] TD: Okay, Chris... CQ: [interrupting, grabbing Dross' hand and pulling the microphone towards his mouth] Shut it, Dross. [surprised pop!] Right now I've got one thing to say -- Byron, you'll get yours, believe me. Nobody takes a win from Chris Quigley and simply walks away. And as for you, Deathbringer... listen carefully, big man. I may be sore now, but not as sore as you're gonna be when I'm done with you! [Pop!] [Quigley releases Dross' arm and steps back. Dross pauses, and then speaks:] TD: Okay, Chris, that aside, you requested this time to speak your mind about the recent happenings in the IIWF. I'm sure _everyone_ wants to hear your opinion on Dan Kauffman's retirement! [Quigley brushes his hand through his sweaty hair, getting it out of his eyes.] CQ: Dan Kauffman _rocked_ the wrestling world with his announcement last week, there's no doubt about it! First of all, the retirement itself was big enough! But then, he outdid himself! The announcement that Dan Kauffman and Chris Quigley will lock up at Ring Wars III not only rocked the wrestling world... it ripped it straight from the foundations! The match that has been looming ever since Ring Wars II, will _finally_ happen, and all I can say is it's just too bad Dan Kauffman will end his career on the losing end! [mixed pop] TD: A lot of people maybe expected you to be a little... out of character when speaking of Dan Kauffman's retirement, Chris... I guess it's... CQ: [interupting] This is what I am, Tim! I don't know how this is gonna sound, but I'm a wrestler first, and a human being _second_! Compassion, regret, and all out sadness are things that I can't afford to feel! Do I respect Dan Kauffman? You're damn right I do. And in all honesty, it's too bad he's retiring, but I can't do anything to change that! It's his decision! And it was also his decision to wrestle me in his last match! Kauffman, it's going to be an _excellent_ match! It's going to be the longest match of our lives! It's going to be the toughest match of our lives! And you are going to come out SECOND BEST! Let me tell you this... if you think you know my style? If you think you know my moves? THINK AGAIN! I am going to haul out _everything_ I am physically capable of performing! And by the end of this match, Kauffman, I'll have a new respect for you... and you'll be in _awe_ of me! [another mixed pop] TD: Well "Quickstrike", those were some strong words! But now... how about Marty Warnett? Did that match get all the anger towards Marty out of your system? [Quigley actually chuckles] CQ: Not even close, Dross! But I proved my point, and that's all I intended to do! I had Warnett beaten _twice_ in that match, once by pinfall, and once by an inevitable submission! But the fact remains, I did _not_ want that IC title. I would've accepted it, but I will say this, I would not have appreciated it like Warnett does. He's got problems of his own right now, and I'm not going to add to them. Maybe this little ordeal he's going through will change him enough, help him grow up a little! TD: Deathbringer showed up, of course, just as he did tonight, and made you lose all your concentration, as you released the Quickstriker and charged at him! CQ: Deathbringer can try as hard as he can to intimidate me, but it's not going to work! I don't mind the fact that he cost me the IC title, and the fact that it's gone down in the record books as a loss for me against Marty Warnett, everyone still knows who the obvious better wrestler was in that match. The same holds true tonight. I had Byron set up for the Quickstriker, and he cheapshots the official so that Deathbringer can have his fun. Byron, I don't need to beat up officials to get the job done. Tonight, like last week, everybody knows who the better man was. That's good enough for me! I don't give a damn whether Deathbringer wants to attack me before the match or not, but I'm saying this... _before_ Ring Wars III, I _will_ face Deathbringer on IIWF Saturday Night, and he's going to find out that he's not as immortal as he'd like to believe! He _will_ go down, and he _will_ go down HARD! [crowd pops!] TD: So I guess that pretty much wraps it up here for... [Quigley grabs the microphone from Dross, and brushes his hair back with his hand once more, as he seems to think hard before speaking...] CQ: No... that's not everything yet, Dross. I've got something to say to JOE PETROW! [crowd boos at the name] For months now, whether it be here or somewhere else, you've been badmouthing me every chance you got! If there's one thing I won't tolerate, Petrow, it's not being respected, and your claim that I can't even pin you for a ONE COUNT?! That went _way_ past the line! You listen and you listen hard, because I'm about to risk everything and put everything on the line! You don't think I can pin you for a one count? Well I don't think you can come _close_ to pinning me for a one count! I want you, Petrow, in a match that you basically named yourself! It's something called a Quickstrike Match! The name of the game is pinning your opponent for a _one_ count! But that's not all! If you can beat me in this match, Petrow... I will _forfeit_ my IIWF shot at Kauffman at Ring Wars III to _you_! [crowd gives a SHOCKED pop!] This is a shot I've waited for and waited for, and I'm putting it all on the line against you, who I don't even think is _deserving_ of it! But I love a good challenge, Petrow, and but I'll have to settle for you! [crowd pops!] [With that, "For Those About to Rock" starts up, and Quigley exits the ring, and walks back down the aisle, slapping a few hands, but looking very intense, as some young fans yell, "No! Don't risk it Chris!" or something of that nature, towards Quigley.] TD: Wow. I never thought I'd see the day that Chris Quigley would gamble his World Title shot to this extent! It's a ONE COUNT, ladies and gentlemen! One tap of the hand could determine a whole new Ring Wars III main event! You've got to wonder how Dan Kauffman will react to this bit of news! And Joe Petrow must be estatic. Once more... Chris Quigley has challenged Joe Petrow to a match named after himself, the "Quickstrike Match!" A one count is all it takes, and it's for an opportunity to wrestle in the most memorable match in IIWF history! This is incredible... [Dross shakes his head and leaves the ring, as Steve Roberts asks him something from the table that sounds like, "Did you know he was gonna do that?!" And Dross can only shake his head and shrug as he sits back down.] TD: I don't know when that match will take place, folks, but we're going to see Quigley and Petrow lock up very soon -- possibly right here next week. Up next we have what could probably be one of the most brutal encounters of the evening -- a Texas Death Match between Brody Thunder and Tiger Claw. Thunder will be looking for some measure of revenge after last week's defeat, and I understand that he and the Outlaw have made further incentive for themselves to win by putting their careers on the line. Steve? SR: You know those two, they'll have a plan. There's no way that they're going to risk their careers. Claw's in deep, deep trouble here. MDW: I have to agree with the talking monkey for once. Thunder's one tough customer, and no lily-livered kickboxer's going to send the "Lone Wolf" back out onto the prairies. TD: You may be right, Mad Dog. Claw turned his back on the Syndicate last week as well. You can bet that Brian Lau won't have been too pleased about their little exchange. Let's go and get the official word from Sparkplug.... =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- TEXAS DEATH MATCH: -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= "Lone Wolf" Brody Thunder vs. Tiger Claw ---------------------------------------- WRITER: MP [Watkins gets up for the broadcast position just as Sparkplug Lee is set to announce the introduction of "Lone Wolf" Brody Thunder who is set to take on Tiger Claw in a Texas Death Match.] TD: Hey, Mad Dog. Where are you going? MDW: Never you mind, Dross. SR: Good riddance, moron. [The crowd immediately starts to boo as Mad Dog hits the steel ring steps, but he continues, undaunted, into the ring and quite unpolitely relieves Sparkplug of the microphone.] MDW: Gimme that... Well, well, well. I think it is MORE than fitting that I take this opportunity to hold up the procedure tonight, since this next match is a REAL MAN'S match. But the travesty of it all is that I'm not in it! Ask yo'selves why? Why Mad Dog Watkins is relegated to doing commentary, while the IIWF parades the rest of the clowns to and from the ring in a show of what they like to call "sports entertainment"? Well, I've been watching all damn night, and I ain't been entertained! [The crowd begins to boo Watkins, who jumps out of the ring and grabs the chair he had only recently occupied at the announcer's table. He throws it into the ring, slides back in under the ropes, and sets the chair in the middle of the ring. He begins to speak again before sitting down.] MDW: The way I look at it, each and everyone of you paid your money to see the best the IIWF has to offer. Am I right? I thought so -- and that's why I'm going to sit right here and express myself. Hehehe... "Why, oh why, is noone coming out to stop this guy?" I know that's what you're asking yourselves. It's simple. If you were to go back into the locker rooms here at the Coliseum and barge in, you'd be blinded by the amount of yellow that fills the room, coming off of each and every last one of the scared punks' backs. And if you don't believe me, then how come noone has signed their name to a contract yet? It ain't like my contracts are hard to find -- every one of you morons hold one with my signature in your grubby little hands right now. And it ain't like we need a contract anyway... [The crowd continues to boo and grows restless as Watkins stands up and unzips his leather jacket revealing his new IIWF t-shirt.] MDW: Ah, but I know the boys in marketing aren't afraid of getting with ol' Mad Dog. They know how to hop upon the money train before it passes them by. [Watkins grins and points to his black t-shirt which has "Mad Dog Watkins... Bad M*ther F*cker" in red lettering on the front, and "Shut Yo Mouth! Hey man, I was just talkin' about Da Dog!" in white on the back.] MDW: But I'm not here to talk about merchandise. Hell, I'm not even here to talk, period. What I want is action, but what I get is the run-around! [The crowd begins to mumble as the IIWF officials have gathered near the entrance to backstage. They huddle momentarialy, and the Poutine Janois, the head of the IIWF Special Concerns committee, emerges from the pack and begins making his way to the ring. Watkins just shakes his head.] MD: Oh great, what in the world do you want? You better tell me what I want to hear. [Janois makes his was into the ring, reaching into his coat pocket along the way. As he stops in front of Watkins, he pulls out a sheet a paper which he shows to Watkins, who immediately begins to laugh.] PJ: [taking the mic] Ladies and gentlemen, I want to apologize to you on behalf of the IIWF for Mr. Watkins' diatribe here tonight. I would also like to take this time to notify all of you that someone has indeed stepped up to answer Mad Dog's challenge... and it is none other than the American Patriot! [Crowd pop!] Furthermore, the match is signed, and will be occuring right here, later on this evening. Thank you. MDW: Hehehe... heh... you... you're serious, aren't you? [Janois nods his head, and then steps back through the ring ropes and makes his way to the back once again.] MDW: Well, well, well... it looks like they managed to find me a challenger after all. Not much of a challenge, but I'll take a match over sitting with Steve Roberts any day of the week. Listen up Patriot, I see you talking about pride and glory, and all that patriotic rhetoric that you spout off. Well, let me ask you this, boy -- How can a man talk the talk, if he can't walk the walk? What's up with you hiding your face behind that mask? Pride? I don't see an ounce when I look at you, son. When you come to ring with me, why don't you do everyone a favor and pull that mask off, look my in the eye, and take your ass-whoopin' like a man. 'Cuz that's the way it's going down. [Watkins slams down the microphone, slides quickly under the ropes, and grabs an American Patriot sign from a two teenagers at ringside. He crawls back into the ring, picks up the mic, and hold the poster high in the air.] MDW: [holding the poster high] Tonight's going to be a lesson in pride. You were stupid enough to sign the contract, and later we are going to see if you are smart enough to learn the lesson. [During his last comments, Mad Dog was unaware of the figure that made his way down to ringside, and now stands behind him in the ring. The crowd makes a tremendous amount of noise in anticipation and in response to the appearance of the wrestler... the man known as Creed. Sensing his presence, Watkins whirls around, dropping the poster to the mat. The two men stare for a moment, and then Watkins grins once more.] MD: What's up, pup? [Creed stands a few feet away from the veteran Watkins. The rookie is not dressed in his customary ring attire, but in street clothes - which are nonetheless all black - high topped sneakers, jeans, tank top t-shirt. The only way to distinguish Creed tonight from any other deeply chiseled professional athlete is the everpresent red glove, dangling dangerously from his left wrist. There is one other way, another distinction which functions as a clarion call, serving notice that Creed is a man of a singular construct: the eyes. Creed is staring at Mad Dog Watkins as if he were his final vision prior to an irrevocable blindness. Storing every detail, drinking in every molecule. The left hand now begins to twitch, Creed almost unintentionally nodding his head in time with the movement of his glove. Now, from the back charges "The CEO" Jack Montogmery, his calm demeanor completely replaced by the frantic charge he's making to the ring. The CEO jumps directly in front of Creed, his face not two inches from that of his client. Montgomery is speaking quietly - yet forcefully to the big man, attempting to draw his attention away from the figure of Watkins. Montgomery raises his voice -- Creed looks now, as if seeing the presence of his manager for the first time, and his eyes now show a moment of reflection, an understanding -- and then an acceptance. Creed turns away from Watkins, disappearing up the aisle.] MD: Hey pup... you know the routine... [As if on cue, the lights drop with two red spotlights hitting both Creed in the aisle and Watkins in the ring, and Creed's music starts up. The words hang hauntingly in the air, as Creed disappears into the back and Watkins drops the mic and follows suit. As he makes his exit, the only sound heard is "Anyone... Anywhere... Anytime..."] TD: Well, folks, I don't know quite what to make of that... But we will be seeing Mad Dog Watkins take on the Patriot later on. SR: What's with Creed and Watkins, Dross? TD: I really have no idea. Folks, we apologise for that interruption in the proceedings. Sparkplug is back in the ring with the microphone, so we should now be ready for the Texas Death Match. [Cut to Sparkplug Lee in the ring, suspiciously eyeing the front rows for any more potential interlopers.] RA: The following contest is a Texas Death Match. The rules are as follows: after every pinfall or submission, the loser of the fall has until the referee's count of ten to get back to his feet and continue. Falls count anywhere, and there are no DQs or countouts. Introducing first, hailing from "The Town Too Tough to Die", Tombstone, Arizona, weighing in at 267lbs and accompanied to the ring by former IIWF World Champion, "The Outlaw" J.W. Hardin, here is "Lone Wolf" Broooooody Thuuuuuunnnndddeeer!! [The theme from "High Plains Drifter" starts up over the PA system to a big heel pop, which increases tenfold as Brody Thunder and the Outlaw enter the aisle. Both men walk down to the ring, ignoring the crowd completely.] TD: Look at Thunder's face. He is completely focused. SR: Wouldn't you be if your career was on the line? He's gonna show everyone here tonight why Claw's win last week was nothing more than a fluke. [Thunder steps into the ring to another big heel pop, and turns to confer with the Outlaw on the ring apron.] RA: And his opponent, hailing from Thailand and weighing in at 220lbs, here is Tiiiggger Claaaaaaaaaaaww!! [Claw's Thai boxing drum music starts up to a big face pop, and Tiger Claw enters the aisle with a similar look of intensity on his face to that of Brody Thunder. He takes one look at Thunder and the Outlaw, and sprints down to ringside, rolling in under the bottom rope to be met by a series of stomping kicks by Thunder. The music is cut off, and both Sparkplug and the Outlaw vacates the ring as the match gets quickly underway.] TD: Whoa! Claw gets straight in there! SR: And he paid for it. Thunder saw him coming. [In the ring, Thunder stops kicking at the floored Tiger Claw and instead begins to choke him against the turnbuckles with his boot. The referee, unable to stop him, watches as Claw tries to struggle out.] TD: No disqualification. This is going to get nasty. SR: You bet. Go Thunder! [Thunder picks the winded Claw up, throws him backwards into the turnbuckle and start hammering him with a series of forearms, before sending him across the ring with a big hiptoss. Big heel pop! Without waiting, Thunder follows up with a kick to Claws head as he starts to get up, and follows up with a chokehold on the canvas. Claw kicks, and manages to struggle to his knees, and Thunder changes the choke into a headlock, before sending Claw staggering with a kneelift. Thunder follows up with an Irish whip into the ropes...] TD: Clothesline attempt, Claw ducks, off the opposite ropes, leapfrog by Claw, Thunder turns and Claw nails him with a backheel kick! And that's exactly what Thunder didn't want to happen! [Thunder rises groggily to his feet, and is tries to cover up from a series of roundhouse kicks by Claw, and Claw follows up with a thrust kick to the jaw that sends Thunder to the canvas again! Claw quickly covers his man - 1 - 2 - kickout by Thunder.) SR: It's going to take a lot more than that to get a three count on Thunder, let alone a ten-count. [Claw pulls Thunder back to his feet, and whips him into the turnbuckles, following up with a running elbowsmash that almost takes Thunder's head off! Big pop! Without missing a beat, Claw switches into his Knee fury, with the crowd cheering each strike... Thunder pushes Claw back out of the corner with force, and runs out himself with a clothesline, Claw ducks under it, leaps to the second turnbuckle and comes back off behind Thunder with a bulldog! Big pop! The cover by Claw - 1 - 2 - Thunder throws Claw off. Claw rolls back to his feet, turns and charges, hitting Thunder with a side kick that sends him back into the ropes, Claw tries an Irish whip, Thunder reverses and as Claw comes back, he throws him all the way out of the ring and to the concrete outside! Big heel pop! In the ring, Thunder sits up and shakes his head, trying to clear it.] TD: And just like that the pace of the match changes! Claw was keeping it fast, but Thunder has bought himself some time with that one move. [Thunder pushes himself to his feet, and steps outside to the ring apron. Claw rolls to his knees, and Thunder leaps off with a double axehandle that sends Claw crashing back to the canvas! Big heel pop! The referee follows the two men outside as Thunder quickly picks Claw up, slips him into a headlock, and charges the cornerpost.] TD: Oh no, this could be it for Claw right here... No! Claw slipped out at the last second! [Claw grabs the stunned Thunder, and slams his head into the steel ringsteps! Big crowd pop! Claw picks Thunder back to his feet again, and whips him into the crowd barriers before leaping to the ring apron, then to the top turnbuckle.] TD: This looks dangerous... Claw measuring Thunder as he rises to his feet... and Claw grabs Thunder's head and sends him crashing into the crowd barriers with a bulldog! [Claw covers the prone Thunder, and the referee counts - 1 - 2 - 3! Big crowd pop! Claw rolls back into the ring and sinks to his knees, as the referee lays the count on Thunder - 1 - 2 - 3 - Thunder rolls over, clutching his head, and starts to push himself up - 4 - 5 - Thunder pushes himself up to his feet, and staggers back towards the ring.] TD: And Claw comes off the opposite ropes with a sliding kick! Thunder's sent crashing back to the arena floor! SR: No! Thunder, get up! Wait, Dross, he's got a chair! [Thunder takes hold of an unoccupied metal chair and folds it as he starts to push himself back up... as he rises to his feet, Claw runs across the ring again, this time leaping over the top rope with a cross body block.] TD: And Thunder turns and nails Claw in mid-air with the chair! And he nails Claw with it again! [Thunder tosses the chair away and picks Claw back to his feet, hooking him up into position for a piledriver... the crowd at ringside are practically screaming as Thunder hoists Claw into the air and drops him down head-first on the outside... Thunder rolls Claw over and covers him - 1 - 2 - 3! Thunder staggers to his feet and steps backwards, arms raised in the air, and the referee lays the count on Tiger Claw... - 1 - 2 - 3 - Thunder rolls back into the ring - 4 - 5 - 6 - Claw starts to roll to his knees - 7 - 8 - Claw pushes himself to his feet, and Thunder rolls straight back out of the ring, nailing him with a clothesline from behind! Big heel pop! Thunder drags Claw to his feet by his braid of hair, and walks him around the outside of the ring before sending him crashing face-first into the timekeeper's table.] TD: This is getting brutal now, folks. I don't know how much more of this punishment Tiger Claw can take... SR: Heads up, here comes Thunder... [Thunder drags Tiger Claw across to the announcer's table, and starts to pull the protective mats up from in front of them. Thunder pulls Claw into position for another piledriver.] SR: He's going to piledrive him on the concrete! I love it! TD: Somehow I thought you might, Steve.... [Thunder tries to hoist Claw up for the piledriver, but Claw manages to block it. Thunder drops him and nails him with a couple of hard axehandles, before lifting him into position again. He hoists Claw up, and Claw catches Thunder's head in headscissors, flipping him over into a frankensteiner on the concrete! Huge face pop!] TD: And Claw pulled an ace out of his sleeve at the last second! Cover that man! [The crowd cheers Claw on as he pulls Thunder over into a pinning position - 1 - 2 - 3! Claw rolls off Thunder, desperately tired, and pushes himself back to his feet, rolling into the ring - 4 - 5 - 6 - Thunder starts to roll over, clutching his head - 7 - 8 - Thunder pushes himself to one knee - 9 - ] TD: Thunder got to his feet just in time! He still looks badly dazed, though... SR: Yeah? Well, look at Tiger Claw! He ain't exactly fresh either! [Tiger Claw spots Thunder as he rises, and staggers over to the ropes as Thunder climbs to the ring apron. Both men begin to trade punches across the top rope to a big crowd pop! Thunder nails Claw with a big forearm, grabs his head, and yanks it over the top rope, dropping off the ring apron as he does. Claw's throat is snapped down over the top rope, and he's sent flying backwards to the canvas! Big heel pop! Thunder pauses for a second to catch his breath, then rolls back into the ring.] TD: Claw's still down. How much more punishment can these two men take? [Thunder picks Claw back up, only to send him to the canvas again with a neckbreaker. Thunder turns away from Claw, and starts to climb the turnbuckles... Claw remains motionless in the centre of the ring.] SR: This is it, Dross. It's over. Finito. Claw is gone. TD: I wouldn't be so sure. Thunder's taking an awful long time to get up here... [Thunder reaches the top turnbuckle, but seems to have some difficulty turning around. Claw rolls to his knees, sees what Thunder is doing, and staggers to his feet, before charging the ropes. Thunder sways on the turnbuckles for a second, and Claw is on him, smashing punches into his midsection. Claw starts to climb up the turnbuckle as well, and hooks Thunder into a facelock...] TD: Superplex coming up? SR: No way. Thunder's much to heavy for Claw. [Claw balances on the top turnbuckle, then throws himself backwards, bringing Thunder crashing down from the top rope to the canvas in a DDT! Huge crowd pop as they try to encourage Claw to pin his man! The face pop quickly turns into a heel pop as a number of figures begin to make their way down the aisle.] TD: How did I know these men would just have to make an appearance? SR: "When you turn your back on the Syndicate, you pay the price." Hey Claw! Remember Joe? This time it's your turn! TD: You're a sick man, Steve... [The Dark Disciples and Casey James, headed by a grinning Brian Lau, head down to ringside. Tiger Claw, dazed and oblivious to this, starts to climb to the top rope. The crowd go frantic shouting warnings to him. Brian Lau stops at the head of the aisle, watching. As Claw reaches the top rope, he looks up and finally sees Lau, and stops, pointing back to the dressing rooms and yelling at Lau. The grin instantly fades from Lau's face, and he starts shouting back. In the ring, the forgotten Brody Thunder starts to push himself to his feet...) SR: Claw better just watch his mouth here, he's heavily outnumbered... [Tiger Claw yells something else at Brian Lau, and turn back away from him. Lau scowls, and the Dark Disciples and Casey James leap up onto the ring apron, and all hell breaks loose. Claw is shoved off the top by Kane, and the Outlaw grabs hold of Casey James, pulling him off the apron. James starts to mouth off, and the Outlaw floors him with a big roundhouse punch. Kane and Wulf climb into the ring, and Claw tries to fight them both off.] TD: This is starting to look real bad for Tiger Claw here... There's no way he can hold off the Dark Disciples on his own... [Claw manages to stun the Disciples for a moment with a series of kicks, but Wulf comes back with a clothesline that takes him to the floor. In the opposite corner, Brody Thunder pulls himself to his feet, shakes his head to clear it and looks across the ring.] SR: This is it. TD: But here comes Thunder! Big clothesline sends Wulf flying! SR: What the hell's he doing? [Kane looks up as Thunder sends his partner flying, and starts to back off. Tiger Claw rolls away and staggers to his feet, and seeing Wulf near the ropes, launches himself at him with a flying dropkick that catches the big man by surprise and sends him out over the top, where he lands near the feet of Brian Lau. Big crowd pop! Thunder charges Kane and hits him with a clothesline that knocks him out over the top, and looks across at Tiger Claw who is now arguing with Brian Lau again... Thunder adjusts his elbowpad, turns and charges Claw, nailing him from behind with a clothesline that sends him spinning to the canvas. Big heel pop! Brian Lau's face breaks out into a grin, and he and the Syndicate begin to retreat back up the aisle.] TD: Did you see that? Thunder nailed Claw from behind with that loaded elbowpad! SR: Hey, you've got no proof that his pad's loaded! [Thunder rolls the unconscious Claw over, and covers him - 1 - 2 - 3! Thunder backs away as the referee begins to lay on the count - 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - ] TD: Tiger Claw's out cold. He's not moving. That pad has to be loaded, Steve. SR: So what if it is? It's no DQ anyway, remember? [ - 5 - 6 - Claw is still not moving. The crowd is almost screaming as they try to help revive him - 7 - Claw starts to move, and push himself up with his hands. The crowd goes wild, urging him on - 8 - 9 - Claw collapses back to the canvas - 10! Huge disappointed pop from the crowd. Brody Thunder raises his arms in triumph!] RA: Here is your winner... "Lone Wolf" Broooody Thuuuunnnndddeeer! [The crowd erupts with jeers as Thunder exits the ring, the Outlaw raising his arm, and the theme from "High Plains Drifter" starts up over the PA system again. Both men start to walk back up the aisle, while the referee tends to Tiger Claw, who is still flat out in the ring.) TD: Brody Thunder gets the victory, and a hard-earned one, but he didn't appreciate the help from the Syndicate one bit. SR: Hang on, Dross -- the Players' Club are coming out into the aisle. [Mixed pop as the trio of Danny Dynamite, Michael Reyna and IIWF World Champion Dan Kauffman step out into the aisle. Kauffman clutches a microphone, and he begins to speak as the Players' Club approach Hardin and Thunder in the aisle.] DK: Cut the music! [The music fades out] Pardon me for quoting the Outlaw himself, but... "Ain't... Life... Grand!" [Hardin smirks, a serious look on his face, and Kauffman takes the reaction in and continues.] Oh, I think the walking intimidation model wants to get down to business. And I was hoping for a nice leisurely chat... Well, they say what the Outlaw wants, the damned Outlaw gets... It seems as if the ever-scheming J.W. Hardin has asked for the Player's Club assistance in ridding the world of some pests that keep a-lingerin' around here. I believe they call themselves the Syndicate, and after the events of tonight, I wouldn't mind a little assistance. But before I agree to anything, let me talk to the good ol' Outlaw about history. History seems to dictate that I, Dan Kauffman, should have NOTHING to do with you, J.W. Hardin, because every time history has reared its bashful head, I always come up on the short end of business. Hell, if this so-called Outlaw wasn't so BIG, and so POWERFUL, and if he didn't have the rugged Brody Thunder for a SIDEKICK, I may have kicked the SNOT out of you RIGHT NOW! [Hardin keeps his glare fixed on Kauffman.] But Hardin, I'm not here to get myself into any more wars... No, with Annis, James, Petrow, Pain Inc., Subway Psycho and Chris Quigley on my tail, the _last_ thing I need is a 6'10" GIANT nailing me from the front like I know he's capable of. I'd rather avoid any more conflicts, and end my career in peace. For some reason, I have a feeling that, soon to be retired or no, I wasn't put on this earth to live a peaceful life. Let me refresh some memories here... My IIWF career started in chaos... personal chaos, but none the less, chaos... and it became peaceful for a while. Then came the attack by Deathbringer after I beat him... yes, by crook, but I did win that match. Then I beat your then-fellow Horseman... But then, you, J.W. F'n' Hardin enters into the equation, and kicks me like a dog during no less than the SECOND attack that night on me. Now, Flare's figure four hurt like hell, big man, but it was your feet in my solar plexus that hurt worse! But that just wasn't enough for you, wasn't it? TD: [over the headset] Boy, we're really opening up some old wounds here. Kauffman's talking about the very first IIWF event, Coronation Clash, back in May last year. SR: [over the headset] I told you he's a whiner, Dross. DK: Nah, you took it beyond the line. I was in that triangle match for the right to become the FIRST IIWF Champion... and I was in the runnning until Tony Starks threw me off the top turnbuckle and through a table. I don't remember anything after that until I woke up next morning with a severe concussion, a concussion I never told anyone about. But when I saw the videotape of what happened next, I lost all respect I could ever possibly have for you, Mr. Hardin. You DDT'ed a helpless man THREE TIMES just so you could look up and salute the Horsemen the best way you knew how. That's disgraceful, and you knew it! That's the lowest I've ever seen anyone go... Not even your triple-cross against the Horsemen and the American Heroes is quite as despicable as that was. Oh, you're the poster-boy for the low-life society, that's for damned sure! [The last comment gets Hardin fired up, and Thunder has to keep him restrained from hauling butt on Kauffman, who continues.] Now, you ask for my help in getting rid of those pests called the Syndicate. Against my better judgement... I agree. [The crowd reacts with a few boos, and Hardin, still angry, nods his head.] But it's going to be under MY terms... there will be no triple cross this time! Not against me, there won't. Here's my deal, Hardin. Dynamite and Reyna are free... and willing... to work with you and Thunder to take care of the Syndicate. I really don't care if the Syndicate stays around or not, since I'll be enjoying beaches and hot tubs and massages in six weeks. But if you want to help me in my feud against those scum, then you show up when I get interfered with by a Syndicate member, and I'll show up when it happens to you or Thunder. That's as far as I'll go. Oh, and Thunder, beware of your friend. Hardin will turn on anyone... I've seen him do it myself. Good day, fellas... [Kauffman and the Players' Club turn tail and head back into the locker room area. Hardin and Thunder follow, speaking about what they have heard. Cut back to the announcers' table.] TD: Well, fans, it seems Kauffman and the Players' Club will work with Hardin and Thunder after all. SR: It's desperation, Dross. They know that the only two men who can save them from having their butts kicked later on tonight are Hardin and Thunder. TD: We'll find out later on. Next up, though, we've got another speciality match, as Dirt Dog Unique Allah and "Sychosys" Joe Petrow hook it up in a Dog Collar Match. SR: You know, Dross, I strapped on the ole' dog collar once. TD: Really? SR: Best weekend of my life. TD: Somehow, I don't think the two participants in our next match will have similar memories of tonight, Soundbite. They'll be bound together via a chain running from dog collars affixed to each of their necks. The only way to win is to touch all four top turnbuckles in succession, without interruption. SR: Ah, memories... TD: Let's get to ringside. =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= DOG-COLLAR MATCH: =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Dirt Dog Unique Allah vs. "Sychosys" Joe Petrow ----------------------------------------------- WRITER: JJ [Sparkplug Lee seems to be confused by his index cards, but is then momentarily entranced by the rhythmic chanting of the newly dubbed "Sycopaths": "Bow Wow Wow, Yippee Yo, Yippee Yay, Sychosis definitely in the ho-use!"] SL: The following contest is a special Dog Collar Match! [pop!] There will be NO pinfall or disqualification -- the ONLY way to win this match is for one man to touch EACH top turnbuckle in succession without interruption. Introducing first, weighing 227 pounds and currently residing in Tokyo, Japan, [Aerosmith's "Crazy" begins to a confused pop from the crowd but a roar of laughter from the boisterous Sycopaths.] the forner IIWF Tag Team Champions, "Sychosis" Joe Petrow! [Lee flips over his card, recalling the reason for his earlier confusion, but quickly exits as Petrow comes striding down the aisle. Sychosis is dressed in black, with a studded dog collar already around his neck. Petrow is pointing with both hands to the area immediately below his waist, where a readily observable bulge resides in the front of his trunks. "Thanks T.D.," Petrow gleefully exclaims as he climbs into the ring, "I don't have a banana in my pants -- I'm just happy to see you."] TD: A pelvic protuberance of Holmesian proportion. And I ain't talkin' about Oliver Wendell. SR: Misty water-colored memories... SL: His opponent, from Brooklyn, New York at a weight of 238 lbs., Dirt Dog Unique Allah! ["Snakes" is played over the P.A. as Unique emerges, rubbing his eyes as if awakening from a deep sleep, but otherwise displaying none of the drunken characteristics to which we have become used. Allah discard his coat in the aisle and hits the ring, waving at the official to hook him up to Petrow.] TD: What does a man think about when he is about to be attached to someone like Joe Petrow? What could be going through his mind, Steve Roberts? SR: You have to accept that you are going to be injured. That's what separates guys like you who have never stepped into battle with men like Steve Roberts. Men who are willing to have pain inflicted upon them for the amusement of people like you. You make me sick, Dross. TD: Which explains your stalwart performance of last week. SR: Well, I have a bad back. after all. [The two men are hooked together and their is a palpable buzz as they are set to begin, Dirt Dog, however, immediately drops to all fours and begins barking!] TD: Look at this, Steve Roberts, Dirt Dog is crawling around on all fours! Crawling around Petrow's legs...now he's... SR: He's crawling right through Petrow's legs, this guy's a moron, Dross, he's... ooohhh. [Every man in the Coliseum replicates Soundbite's last exclaimation as Unique leaps to his feet following his trip between the legs of Petrow, crotching "Sychosis" on the chain. Petrow doubles over as a thick yellow ooze streams down his left leg.] TD: I know it's cliche, Steve, but that's gonna leave a mark. [Unique takes advantage of the lowered head of Petrow, dropping him completely to the mat with a scissor kick, followed by a quick stomp to the back of the right leg. Unique now pounces atop the prone Petrow, jamming an elbow to the small of the back, and grapevining the legs. Unique attempts to wrap the chain around Petrow's legs - but is prevented from so doing as Petrow reverses into a side headlock. Allah counters with a hammerlock, which Petrow maneuvers out of, reaching a verical base and scoopslamming Unique. Petrow then runs to the ropes, but is immediately brought back with a snap of the chain by Unique. Allah attempts his own run - and is met with similar results. Each man is now on his knees in the middle of the ring, seemingly perplexed about the next move.] TD: Some good early technical work from Dirt Dog, Soundbite. But at this juncture both men seem flummoxed. SR: I was flummoxed once. Best weekend of my life. [Unique breaks the momentary pause with a knife edge chop, drawing the customary, "Woooooo!" from the crowd. Petrow follows with a shot of his own -- except it is with the chain across Dirt Dog's brow. Petrow doubles and triples up with the chain -- moving to choke Allah as he falls completely to the mat. Allah reverses with a quick rollover, delivering five-six-seven-eight furious right hands to Petrow's head before moving to a chain chokehold of his own. Petrow rolls over -- Allah rolls over -- and now the two men are in an all out brawl, all four fists flying as they roll around -- and then out of the ring! Pop!] TD: Well, we knew this was gonna break down quickly into a war, this situation has gotten personal for Dirt Dog, who is far more focused than we've ever seen him. SR: The dog doesn't want to go to war with Joe Petrow, Dross. The Spanish Armada wouldn't want to go to war with Joe Petrow. [Each man is out on the floor, Petrow grabs the chain and whips Allah into the steel steps, then climbs atop the steps and touches the top turnbuckle. One! Petrow turns the corner, standing on the apron - and is brought down hard to the floor with a tug of the chain by Unique! Allah climbs the steps himself, reaches out for the buckle but finds the chain stretched to its limit. He then turns and leaps with an elbow to the fallen Petrow -- and misses! Petrow has rolled out of the way and Unique come crashing to the floor! Pop! Petrow collects himself... and attempts a slingshot -- sending Unique in the direction of the ring post -- but Dirt Dog's head snaps sharply back and he returns to the floor, the back of his dog collar striking Petrow's face! Big pop!] TD: Oh, my! Petrow has just been cut wide open on the back of Unique's dog collar! The blood is streaming from Petrow's forehead! SR: Red turns green, Dross. I love it! [Petrow, eyes now dancing wildly, whips Unique across the chest with the chain, and then again. Petrow hops back to the apron and pulls the chain -- ramming Unique head first into the base of the ring! Petrow walks to the corner and touches the buckle. One. Dirt Dog is struggling back to his feet and Petrow is more than willing to allow him back into the ring as Sychosis is moving to the second corner. Two. Petrow turns the corner and Unique makes an all out dive, falling just short at Petrow's feet. Petrow delivers a nifty roundkick to the face of Dirt Dog, then looks up in the direction of the "Sycopaths" and with the blood now covering the top of his head, yells out, "Now you're gonna see - a Petroplex!"] SR: What the hell's a petroplex? TD: I believe it's a modified Lithuanian lights suplex. [Petrow scoops up Unique and slams him to the mat.} TD: Or not. [Petrow turns toward the third buckle, but has his knee clipped from behind by Dirt Dog. Petrow falls and Unique again turns to the legs, droping two elbows to the knee and then cinching up Petrow's leg into a half-crab. Then as Petrow attempts to reach back to break the hold, Dirt Dog quickly takes hold of his neck, using the chain to wrap Petrow's left leg to his head! ] TD: He's hog tied him, Steve Roberts! Joe Petrow is hog tied right there in the middle of the ring! Unbelievable! [Unique's now standing to the cheers from his fans, he spits at the incapacitated Petrow and then grabs the collar around Petrow's neck! Unique grabs Petrow's collar and starts walking to the near corner... One. Petrow now has realized the severity of his predicament and scrambles mightily to free himself... Two. Unique gives a quick forearm to the head and touches the third turnbuckle... Three. The Coliseum stands as one as Unique moves to the final buckle. Petrow fighting, now, digging his heel into the mat, cursing Unique, telling him he's not good enough to beat him. Dirt Dog turns his head -- and Petrow snaps the chain, lifting Unique up and over Petrow's head, tearing Petrow's leg away and breaking both the hold and the succession. Petrow lets out a horrible scream, a mixture of relief at his being free of the brutal hold and abject pain at the position into which he had to manipulate his own body to so do.] TD: You cannot, you can _not_, underestimate this man, he will seemingly go to any lengths to win a match. SR: That's what I was trying to explain earlier, men like myself and Joe Petrow are not a dime a dozen. Men like myself and Joe Petrow will fight through any pain to get the victory. TD: Except for last week. SR: Well, that's back pain. It's different. [Petrow staggers to his feet and whips the chain across Unique's back. Petrow drops down for a modified camel clutch, using the chain to choke Unique. Pop! The thick dog collar mitigates the harm of the choke, however, and Unique is able to fight his way to a vertical base, landing sharp righ hands to the bloodied Petrow forehead. Petrow counters with rights of his own, then applies a standing front facelock and snaps ahold of Unique's right leg.] TD: Uh-oh! Uh-oh! [Petrow uses the chain to keep Dirt Dog's leg in the air as he locks in his head...] TD: THAT'S A BULLET TRAIN TO HELL! A BULLET TRAIN TO HELL!! [...and sends Unique crashing to the mat in a modified perfectplex/DDT, Petrow has a leg hooked, but releases it and moves to the corner...One. Petrow drags Dirt Dog to the second buckle. Two. Unique begins to stir, tugging at the chain. Petrow pauses, not advancing to the third corner, instead motioning for Dirt Dog to charge him. Allah runs flat out toward Petrow, who easily backdrops him over the top rope and out on to the apron! The momentum, however, carrying Petrow along, his neck snapping off the top rope!! Big Pop!] TD: That's a self-inflicted hot shot, Steve Roberts! This is out of control! [Each man now advances to the corner, Unique from the outside and Petrow from inside the ring. They simultaneously touch the buckle and then once again begin to brawl. Each man with a series of hard right hands as they barely have the ability to stand. Petrow and Dirt Dog each begin to climb the ropes, fighting all the way as the two men reach the top turnbuckle. Petrow locks Unique up, looking to apply perhaps a superplex. Dirt Dog blocks -- shoving at Petrow's chest. But Petrow is able to maintain his balance -- and superplexes Dirt Dog! To the outside! Enormous pop!] TD: These men are down, Steve Roberts! These two men are out -- absolutely out! SR: A superplex from the top to the floor, Dross, maybe Petrow's ego got in the way of his brain there, he took maybe the worse end of that shot. [Neither man has stirred as they remain in a crumpled heap on the outside. The fans exhorting their respective favorite.] TD: I don't know what's gonna... wait, who... it's Medusa! Here comes Medusa Rage! [Allah's manager, last seen in a hospital bed courtesy an attack from Petrow, quickly makes her way to the two men. She leans down over them, seeming to be saying something to Petrow.] SR: What is she doing here, Dross? She's gonna get hurt again... she's what's she -- TD: She's unhooking the chain! Medusa Rage is unhooking the chain! SR: They're quitting, Dross. She's taking her Dog and going home! [Rage unhooks the two men and uses her considerable strength to drag each of them to their feet, Rage pushes Unique into the ring and then turns to face the wobbly Petrow. Petrow offers a sick, bloody smile and motions as if to strike the woman again. Medusa falls to her knees, burying her head into a chair and holding up an arm, begging Sychosis not to attack her again.] SR: Look at her, Dross. She's pathetic. Go back to kitchen, Medusa! Make me mo 'dem biscuits and then we'll talk! [Petrow turns to go to the ring, as Dirt Dog has just regained his feet and is seemingly uncertain about what to do. Dirt Dog slowly stumbles back to the ropes, pointing at Petrow -- and then falls back to the mat! Pop! Petrow reaches the apron -- and his hit over the back of the head by a chair!] TD: SHE HIT HIM! MEDUSA KNOCKED OUT JOE PETROW! [Dirt Dog then rises, his fans screaming his way to the first buckle... One.] TD: Joe Petrow is out! Unique's gonna take it! [Unique is in full stumble, but doesn't appear in the least bit intoxicated, trying desperately to maintain his balance... Two.] SR: They can't do this, Dross! They're unhooked, this is wrong... Petrow's getting up! Petrow's getting up! [Petrow gets to his feet and frantically reaches the ring as Dirt Dog touches the third buckle... Three.] TD: Petrow's going after him, trying to head Dirt Dog off, Petrow's racing for the corner! He is racing for the corner! [Dirt Dog extends his hand, stretching to his very limit as Petrow makes one last, mad dive to the corner... Four! Four! Ding! Ding! Ding!] SL: Your winner... Dirt Dog Unique Allah! [Allah bursts into tears as the official raises his hand and Medusa Rage leads him up the aisle. Petrow is all over the official, yelling that the two men weren't chained together, showing the official his dog collar and screaming up the aisle at Dirt Dog and Medusa.] SR: This is outrageous! Outrageous! What a brutal miscarriage of justice! Petrow was just cheated into his first loss here in the IIWF. Outrageous! TD: The official's decision is final, Steve Roberts, and I'm not aware that the rules of the match actually said that the men had to be chained together for one to get a victory. SR: This is the lowest point in the history of the IIWF, Dross. Joe Petrow will not take this lying down -- count on it! TD: For now, he has no choice. Moving on, up next we're going to hear from the manager of Domination, the team that was rocked by the injury of Mr. Psycho earlier this week. ["O Fortuna" starts up over the PA. Pop!] Mistress is on her way down to ringside... [Mistress walks to the ring alone. "O Fortuna" continues to play over the PA. The crowd are chilled. Mistress is handed a mic, begins to talk, and the crowd quieten down, so does the music.] MI: You all know why I'm out here tonight. You all saw what happened last Wednesday. You all saw that freak, Venusian Death Cell, come from nowhere and cheapshot Mr.Psycho for no reason at all. You all saw him drop Mr.Psycho on the iron railings. And I'm sure you all know that he was taken to Portland General Hospital. And what you could only suspect, I must confirm as being true. Mr. Psycho's career as a wrestler is over. The injury isn't as bad as expected, and he will hopefully be able to walk within a few weeks, but yes, Mr. Psycho can never wrestle again. ["O Fortuna" begins to play again.] MI: Is this the end of Domination? SR: [over the headset] I sure hope so. TD: [over the headset] Please, Steve. MI: Oh no. This is the beginning. [The albino, Monster, and another individual, about 6'1", with a well-defined and muscular body, start making their way to the ring. The crowd go wild.] MI: When we first came here we said that if you hit us, we'd hit you back a lot harder. And people, that is exactly what is going to happen. Changes have had to be made, but they have been made for the better. [Monster and the other individual get into the ring. Monster is roaring away, while the other individual, with short brown hair, is standing with his hands on hips, looking smug.] MI: Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you the team that will win the IIWF tag team belts within the next month, DOMINATION. And to alter a popular saying, New Domination, New Danger. Yes, we're going to hurt all the tag teams out there, and yes, it's going to work. Now, you all know Monster. MO: Rooaaaaarrgghhhhhhh. MI: Yes. Indeed. But few of you will know this individual, especially since he has had his hair cut. Ladies and gentleman, I introduce to you the finest wrestler on the planet, the man who will make New Domination perfect, a close friend of mine "PERFECT" DANI JARVIER! Dani, over to you. DJ: When my good friend Mistress came calling, I responded eagerly. I've wanted to get into the IIWF for a long time, to show my Perfected skills on a big stage. This is my chance, and this is going to be fun. I'm going to show all you big men out there that it doesn't matter how strong you are, how big you are, you've got no hope against my perfect mat skills. I've shown it time and time again to hundreds of mammoths, that skill is always going to win over size. But then again, it's good to have the most powerful thing in the IIWF by my side, hey, Monster? MO: RRooooaaaaaooooooh. DJ: You see, people, I'm Perfect, and there is no two ways about it. And I'm going to use these skills to get the tag-belts where they belong -- around the waists of Domination. MI: This is a warning -- to the Dark Disciples, to the High Plains Drifters -- to everyone -- Domination is perfect now. There is no stopping us. And as some might say, resistance is futile. And Venusian Death Cell, we've got a special present for you. Oh yes. DJ: The tag team belts will be ours. And they will be won perfectly. MO: Rooaaarrrgghhhh. MI: There is no preperation when faced with Domination. [They leave the ring with the fans go wild, heading up the aisle and high-fiving fans as they go. Cut back to the broadcast table.] SR: Perfect?! Bullsh... TD: [interrupting] Thanks, Steve. This is a surprise move on the part of Mistress! Jarvier is certainly a superb wrestler, but I do share your doubt that he is actually as perfect as he claims. I guess we'll find out when New Domination take to the rings. Okay, our next match looks set to be a high-octane encounter; Mad Dog Watkins finally found a challenger to his open contract earlier tonight, in the American Patriot. SR: And I might just root for the Patriot in this match. TD: If you say so. Let's go to Sparkplug for the introductions. =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- Mad Dog Watkins vs. American Patriot -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= WRITER: MP [Sparkplug Lee takes centre stage once more.] RA: The following contest is scheduled for one fall, with a thirty minute time limit. Introducing first, weighing in at 269lbs and hailing from Detroit, Michigan, here is "Mad Dog" Waaaaattkkiiinns! ["Paint it black" by the Rolling Stones starts up over the PA system to a big heel pop, and Mad Dog Watkins steps out into the aisle, looking focused and determined. He raises his arms once to the crowd, to another big heel pop, before walking to the ring with a smirk.] TD: Watkins certainly looks focused on this match, Steve. SR: The guy is a class act, Dross. You saw him earlier. The guy's got a whole lot of class -- and it's all low. TD: Oh, please! RA: And his opponent, hailing from San Diego, California, and weighing in at 285lbs, here is the Ameeeeeerrican Paaaaatrrriiooooot! [Big crowd pop as the Patriot steps into the aisle to "Stars and Stripes Forever" by Sousa. He walks calmly down to the ringside area, taking the time to high-five the fans.] SR: Take a look at this moron. Buttering up the fans, anyone would think he's campaigning for senator or something. Hey Patriot, you missed some guy back there! TD: Steve, will you please sit down? [As the Patriot nears the ring, he stops shaking hands with the fans, and runs towards the ring, rolling in under the bottom rope and making straight for Watkins. Watkins backs off, stepping between the ropes, and the referee forces the Patriot to back off.] TD: The Patriot's looking to start early here, but Watkins wants none of it! SR: He's just biding his time. Of course the Patriot's too stupid to realise that... TD: The Patriot's got an impressive record, Steve. He's not some rookie, he's been around a lot. SR: Yeah? Well, Watkins was breaking people's legs when this guy was learning how to read. Not all that long ago, really. [The Patriot waits for Watkins to re-enter the ring, and both men start to circle, before locking up collar and elbow. The Patriot takes the advantage with an armdrag take down, and Watkins rolls away and to his knees, before slowly rising to his feet again. They lock up again, and this time Watkins takes the advantage with a side headlock, twisting sideways to take the Patriot to the canvas. Patriot counters with headscissors, Watkins kicks out of the hold, and both men scramble back to a vertical base, where the Patriot lets fly with a dropkick. Watkins side-steps it, and grabs the Patriot's leg, twisting it into a leg hammerlock. The Patriot struggles, and manages to kick out of the hold, but Watkins drops on top of him, keeping him on the canvas with a headlock.] TD: Watkins is showing his mat wrestling experience here. How many times have we seen this tactic used before? Keep the bigger man down, where his size and strength are less of an advantage. SR: Hey, if it works... [The Patriot gets his knees underneath him, and starts to push himself to his feet, but Watkins quickly sends him to the mat again with another headlock takedown. Watkins switches the hold into a facelock, before twisting across the Patriot's body and pulling his leg up into a half Boston crab. The Patriot kicks Watkins off, and once again Watkins is straight back on him with a headlock.] TD: Watkins seems to be focusing on the leg here, and so far, he's not having much luck. SR: He's still in control, isn't he? Patriot isn't going anywhere at the moment. [In the ring, the Patriot has managed to get back to a vertical base again. Watkins tries another takedown, but the Patriot blocks it, and pushes Watkins backwards and into the ropes, before throwing him off. Watkins reverses the Irish whip, and sends the Patriot for the ride. Watkins tries a clothesline as the Patriot comes back which the Patriot ducks under, he comes off the opposite ropes, and Watkins takes him to the mat with a single leg takedown. Watkins quickly gets back to his feet, keeping hold of the Patriot's leg, and drops an elbow across the knee joint, before locking the leg into a grapevine.] SR: See? Watkins knows exactly what he's doing. TD: The Patriot does seem frustrated by Watkins' tactics so far... [Watkins gets to his feet again, and slams another elbowdrop down to the knee joint, and locks on the grapevine again. Patriot yells out in pain, and falls back to the canvas. The referee spots that the Patriot's shoulders are down... - 1 - Patriot sits up hard. He reaches out for Watkins' head, and tries to get his hand around his jaw. Watkins shakes him off and leans forward, pulling the hold in tight. Patriot slumps back to the canvas again, holding one arm in the air to keep his shoulder off the canvas.] TD: You have to think that this is an excellent strategy by Watkins here. This is going to really effect Patriot in the later stages of the match. SR: Later stages? What makes you think this goon'll last that long? TD: The Patriot's not a quitter, Steve.. SR: And that's not some cheap ten-dollar dead rat on your head either. TD: I'm sorry? [The Patriot seems to get a burst of energy, and reaches out for Watkins' head again. This time he catches hold, and pulls Watkins' chin back. Watkins refuses to let go of the grapevine, and so the Patriot decides it's time to get rough... Big crowd pop!] TD: Big shot to the jaw by the Patriot! And another! And that broke the hold up! SR: Watkins has took harder and better before. He's not fazed. [Patriot pushes himself to his feet, hobbling slightly, and Watkins is back on him like a shot with a leg trip. Watkins tries a spinning toehold, and the Patriot sends him flying back with a kick to the stomach. Patriot pushes himself back up, and charges Watkins, lashing out with a clothesline that knocks him to the floor. Watkins is straight back up, and Patriot sends him back to the canvas with a scoop slam! Big pop! Watkins gets back to his feet, and Patriot sends him to the canvas with another scoop slam! Watkins backs into the turnbuckles, and lashes out with a foot as the Patriot approaches... Patriot catches it! Big crowd pop! Patriot smashes Watkins back into the turnbuckles with another big clothesline, then steps up over Watkins to the second turnbuckle and starts laying a series of punches into Watkins' head.] Crowd: [chanting] One! Two! Three! Four! Five! [Watkins grabs Patriot by the waist and lifts him off the turnbuckles, stepping out of the corner with an inverted atomic drop, Patriot pushes away at the last second and takes Watkins to the canvas with another clothesline! Big crowd pop! Patriot covers... - 1 - 2 - easy kickout by Watkins!] TD: Now it's the Patriot who's controlling the pace! SR: Watkins has it covered... [Patriot drops a big elbowdrop across Watkin's chest, then picks him up and sets him into position for a suplex... Watkins blocks it, and rolls the Patriot backwards into a small package! - 1 - 2 - kickout by the Patriot! Both men get back to their feet, and the Patriot backs Watkins into the ropes, whips him across the ring, and slams Watkins back down into the canvas with a big powerslam! Big face pop! Patriot hooks the leg... - 1 - 2 - kickout by Watkins! Patriot pulls Watkins up to his feet again, sends him into the ropes with another Irish whip, Patriot puts his head down...] TD: Too soon! And Watkins catches him with a DDT! SR: Hah! The Patriot got cocky. [Watkins, instead of going straight for the pin, picks the Patriot back to his feet, slips him into a waistlock and drops him into a standing kneebreaker! Watkins grabs the Patriot's leg, pushes his foot into the Patriots hp and drops backwards, jarring the injured knee even further! Big heel pop! Watkins Adds further punishment with a series of elbowdrops to the Patriot's knee, and the Patriot struggles backwards towards the corner.] TD: Watkins is attacking the Patriot's knee relentlessly here! SR: That knee has to be shot by now. Call 911. We need the paramedics. [The referee pushes a grinning Watkins backwards as the Patriot reaches the corner, and the Patriot uses the ropes to pull himself back to his feet. Watkins pushes the referee out of the way, and stuns the Patriot with a hard elbow to the jaw, before lifting the Patriot's injured leg and hooking it over the second rope, and then laying a series of kicks into the knee joint. Patriot swings a punch out at Watkins, and Watkins hits him hard with an uppercut, before going back to the knee again to a big heel pop.] TD: Watkins now, elbow to the Patriot's head, and another! And a headbutt from Watkins sends the Patriot to the canvas! Now what's he doing? SR: He's going to wrap his leg around the ringpost! I love it! [Watkins rolls to the outside, and drags the Patriot's into the corner by the leg. The referee begins to lay a count on Watkins, and Watkins slams the Patriot's knee into the metal ringpost hard! Huge heel pop from the fans at ringside! And another mixed pop from the fans around the aisle!] TD: These two had words earlier tonight, Creed's on his way down the aisle.... [Watkins looks up at the noise, and sees Creed approaching. Creed stops at the top of the aisle, and simply watches as Watkins turns back to the Patriot, slamming his knee into the metal again! Watkins rolls steps up to the ring apron and through the ropes, not taking his eyes off Creed, before turning back to the Patriot.] TD: Looks like Creed is happy to simply watch here. SR: It's a pity. This match could do with a brawl. [Watkins picks the Patriot back to his feet by the mask, and pulls him out into the centre of the ring, before taking him to the floor with a leg sweep. Watkins twists the Patriot's leg into a spinning toehold, lifts the other leg up under it and falls backwards.] TD: Figure-four by Watkins, and it's hooked on tight! SR: Game over, Tim. Even if the Patriot manages to escape, his knee'll be too shot to do anything... [The referee checks with the Patriot, who holds his head in agony, but he shakes his head, refusing to submit. Watkins responds by exerting even more pressure, and the Patriot slaps the mat in pain and frustration. The referee checks again, but the Patriot still won't submit. He slumps down to the canvas - 1 - 2 - Patriot lifts his shoulder off the canvas. Creed watches on impassively.] SR: Go on Patriot, give it up. Why risk your career? [Patriot, more out of desperation than anything else, starts to slap the canvas. The crowd picks up on it, and starts chanting "U - S - A! U - S - A!"] SR: What the? Oh, come on! The guy is out of it! Talk about cheering for the underdog... [Patriot's shoulders touch the canvas again, and the referee counts... - 1 - 2 - Patriot sits up, and sits up hard! Big pop! And the crowd starts to chant louder! Mad Dog Watkins finds himself staring the Patriot in the eyes, and he shakes his head in disbelief! Even Creed starts to look slightly bewildered as the shouts echo around the arena! The Patriot reaches out and slaps Watkins across the face! Huge crowd pop!] SR: Uh-oh... [Watkins shakes his head slightly, and the Patriot slaps him again! And again! And he nails him with a hard right hand, and flips the figure four over! The crowd goes wild!] TD: Incredible! Where did the Patriot find the energy to do that? [Patriot leans back, and now it's Watkins' turn to clutch his head in pain! Watkins pushes himself forwards on his elbows and grabs hold of the ropes, and the referee tries to untie the two men's legs... And the Patriot's free! Huge crowd pop! Both men get up limping slightly, and the Patriot lashes out wish a series of blows that send Watkins staggering back into the turnbuckles, Patriot nails Watkins with an elbow to the face, slips him into a headlock, and drags him out of the corner, sending him crashing face-first to the canvas with a bulldog! The Patriot rolls Watkins over and hooks the leg... - 1 - 2 - kickout by Watkins! Patriot picks him up to his feet again, hooks him in a facelock.] TD: DDT! And Watkins is in serious trouble now! [Another cover by the Patriot - 1 - 2 - kickout by Watkins again! Patriot throws Watkins back into the turnbuckles and follows through, striking Watkins with a series of jab punches followed by a big uppercut that can be heard around the arena! Big crowd pop! Patriot pulls Watkins out of the corner, pulls him into a facelock and throws Watkin's arm over his shoulder.] TD: Patriot now with a suplex.... no! SR: His knee gave out!! [The Patriot starts to lift Watkins into the air, but then drops him again, clutching his knee and turning around... Watkins shakes his head, and quickly grabs hold of the Patriot as he limps away, rolling him backwards into a reverse cradle and putting all of his weight on the Patriot's injured leg - 1 - 2 - 3! The referee calls for the bell! Big heel pop!] SR: He got him! The Patriot's knee gave out! [Watkins rolls over, holding his arm in the air, and Creed turns, walking back up the aisle as "Paint it Black" starts up over the PA again.] RA: Here is your winner... "Mad Dog" Waaaaaaattkkiiinns! TD: Watkins gets an impressive win over the American Patriot... SR: His knee gave out! TD: Yes, we got that part, Steve. The Patriot's still down in the ring, the referee's checking on him, we hope it's nothing serious... he's getting back to his feet with the help of the official. It looks like he'll be able to make his own way back, but he's still limping quite badly... [The Patriot gets out of the ring on his own to a big crowd pop, and starts to head back up the aisle to rousing applause.] TD: It looks like the damage isn't too serious, and the Patriot leaves tonight with the fans behind him every step. SR: Yeah, but it was Watkins who got the win, and all the fans' support in the world ain't going to change that. TD: Okay, fans, our next match pits IIWF Intercontinental Champion Marty Warnett against Steve "the Fury" Kowalski inside a fifteen foot steel cage. The ring crew has already descended on the ringside area to erect the cage, but while they're setting it up, let's go over to LaRue's Lair for this week's segment. [Becky enters to great cheering from the Becky LaRue fan club. She displays her official "Brad I Want Your Baby" t-shirt to greater applause. She settles down on the lounge as much as her leather pants will allow her to.] BL: Rude, crass, and a lousy dresser to boot. One could almost say that he is the "anti-Becky". No, my next guest is not Larry Morton. Instead, it is that joker from Germany... Cheshire. [Cheshire enters wearing an orange jacket, green trousers, black patent-leather shoes and a colourful tie with smilie on it, walking with a slight limp. He detours on his way to the set to sincerely shake hands with a number of willing fans. One can be heard to remark "I'll never wash this hand again!". Cheshire bows extravagantly to Becky, shakes her hand, then kisses it. He takes his seat, re-adjusting himself each time Becky is about to begin. Finally she shoots him a deadly look and he settles down.] BL: How would you describe yourself? Odd. Unusual, unique? C: Although it is said that people who strictly refuse the possibilty of being at least slighty foolish sometimes _do_ have a psychological problem, I consider myself absolutely normal and perfectly sane. Hehehe. Hmm... Maybe it's just my clothing and my way of thinking that's a little bit different. Hehehe... BL: Don't bet too much on that. What makes you STOP laughing? C: Let me quote the famous German poet Johann Wolfgang von Goethe. [clears his throat] I am the spirit that laughs forever! And rightly so! What has arisen from the void Deserves to be laughed about. It would be best if nothing serious ever would arise. And thus, what you call comedy, Funny jokes, or briefly stated: Humour, That is my proper element. [he bows to the crowd] So why should I stop laughing? Hahaha... BL: [Becky just stares at him a long while, shakes her head, and continues.] I have to ask: Cat juggling? C: Hey, everyone can juggle balls 'n' chainsaws 'n' stuff. But that one was really unique. Well, at least the kitten had a little bit more fun than the poodle. Hehe. It was so dizzy that when it tried to bite me, it sank its teeth firmly into a tent pole. Hehehe. There it stayed for the rest of the evening and the whole next day. [sighs] But that was the incident that eventually ended my circus career. BL: Maybe you should challenge Warnett to a cat juggling match? You don't seem to have much of a problem with the Harlequins. I would think you'd find them a pale imitation. C: Oh, may I take that as a compliment? Anyway I do, 'cause you're right Becky. I mean, what's the deal with a bunch of buffos calling themselves "The Harlequins" and being that grumpy? ...Aahh, hehehe, wait a minute,... I see, the guys are the baddies and their chicks are the funnies, a concept that enhances their bizzare image and appearance. [sarcastically] How _cleverly_ done. Hehehe. BL: Are you this annoying in real life? C: No, in real life I'm just a normal guy who likes pizza and burgers and watching a lot of TV. I'd... say... I'm even a little bit... shy. Hihihi, now honestly, I live according to the maxim: Make Laugh, not War! I understand that there are people who find that attitude annoying, but I start the day with a smile, and I usually end it with a smile, and so I'm happy. BL: I notice you've been making a move for a belt. Do champ straps actually motivate you? C: Hehehe, what really motivated me to make that shot is that I really felt to be better than El Nigma, and I definitely am, hehehe, but that stupid birdman screwed everything. [shuddering] Uuuuuhhh I hate that guy! Cheetah Chow, [wagging his index-finger] don't think that I'll forget that little "incident". Nonono. BL: I can understand why Nurse Heidi would fawn all over him, but what is your attraction to Otto Verhoevan? C: Tststs, Becky! Don't you think that's obvious? People like him make me _proud_ to be a German. Besides, I met him once in the waiting-room of my psychologist Dr Wagner and there... oh wait a minute, hehehe, I'll better not mention that. BL: We'll talk later. Any chance I could convince you to hide in Larry Morton's closet some dark night? C: And be responsible for his first heart-attack? No way! [Aside] Any time, just give me his address and a camcorder after the show. BL: [Aside] Like I said, we'll talk. So, um, who dresses you like that? C: Hihi, like what? BL: Honestly. Who is a better clown: you or the IIWF front office? C: Well, Becky, I've been in that business for quite a while now so that I can consider myself, hehehehe, a real pro, but... those people sometimes make me feel a little depressed. BL: Then you should see _MY_ paycheck. What needs to happen for you to say "I'm the best"? C: When I manage to eat 65 chocolate marshmallows, 27.5 g each, in less than fifteen minutes. BL: Talking of marshmallows...Nurse Heidi -- those aren't her real eyelashes, are they? C: [with a suspicious look] Is that a trick question, or what? BL: Me? Trustworthy is my middle name. Back on the subject, "The Humorizer": Don't you find it just a _little_ disgusting to stick your fingers in someone else's mouth? C: Well, I just like those funny sounds my victims make when I lock it on. Ha, and by the way, there are a lot of things far more disgusting than that, and I bet you are quite familiar with most of them. BL: [Ignores him. Looks at the hand he kissed earlier] I bet you have some really revolting personal habits. Have you your shots? C: I once tried smoking, but I just couldn't figure out what people like about it. [To audience] Hey, some educational stuff doesn't hurt, does it? Hehehe. But I'm afraid I often leave the toilet-lid open. BL: That proves that you're a male. Say something without giggling. C: [with clenched teeth] See? No problem. Whatever you want Becky. BL: Before I make you leave, is there anything you want to say? C: Why, yes, Becky, hehehe. I want to thank you for the honor of being in your show, and... [he goes down to his knees before her and takes her hand] Will you marry me? [She is shocked, honored and repulsed. For once she can think of nothing to say. Before she can think of something, Cheshire sudenly shouts:] GOT YA! Hahahahaha.... [He prances off, laughing. Becky continues to be stunned.] BL: [To no one] I..just..had..visions..that..sickened...even..me... [She continues to stare blankly at her hand until the camera cuts away.] [Cut back to the announcers' table.] TD: Er, okay. Folks, the steel cage has now been erected, so we're ready to go back up to the ring for our next match. What an encounter this is going to be! SR: I can't wait, Dross. Walnut's going to get his airhead imploded. =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- IIWF INTERCONTINENTAL CHAMPIONSHIP STEEL CAGE MATCH: -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Marty Warnett [c] vs. Steve "the Fury" Kowalski ---------------------------------------------------- WRITER: DS [Sparkplug Lee gingerly steps into the cage as a spotlight hits him in centre ring.] RA: Ladies and gentlemen, the following encounter is a special cage match scheduled for one fall, and it is for the IIWF Intercontinental Championship! [Pop] The only way to win is by pinfall or submission -- there will be no countouts or disqualifications! Introducing first, the challenger: hailing from Newark, New Jersey, and weighing in at 268lbs, here is... Steve "the Fury" Kowalski! [Big heel pop as a bank of red spotlights swings to point at the head of the aisle. Kowalski steps out to the jeers of the crowd, and fireworks explode in the aisle in time with "Don't Fear The Reaper". He walks determinedly to the ring, ignoring the many signs he passes on either side of the aisle, and walks straight into the cage, climbing to the top and raising his arms to the crowd. He signals that the belt will be back around his waist in a matter of minutes.] TD: You know, Steve, I have to wonder whether Warnett made the right decision in agreeing to face Kowalski in a match of this nature. Does Warnett have the killer instinct necessary to survive in a steel cage with a man like the Fury? SR: In a word: no. Kowalski's gonna mince Walnut through the bars of that cage. RA: And introducing his opponent: from Cardiff, Wales, and weighing in at 245lbs, here is the IIWF Intercontinental Champion: Marty Warnett! [Huge pop as "Cold Gin" starts up over the PA. Brightly-coloured spotlights swirl all over the arena, and fireworks erupt high in the rafters of the Coliseum. All eyes turn to the head of the aisle, where... nobody appears. The huge pop dies down to a confused murmur. Kowalski climbs the cage again and points toward the head of the aisle, calling Warnett out.] SR: I can't believe this! TD: Marty Warnett is nowhere to be seen, folks... I don't understand. Hang on... I understand Larry Morton has something backstage. Larry? [Cut to Larry Morton standing behind the entrance curtain in the backstage area. In the background can be seen a huddle of IIWF officials, having a heated discussion.] LM: Tim, apparently Warnett has not been seen here at the Coliseum tonight. In fact, he hasn't been seen since he stormed out of IIWF Towers earlier this week after his meeting with the IIWF Executive Committee. He's not here in the arena tonight, so this match isn't going to go ahead. SR: [over the headset] That yellow-bellied bast... TD: [over the headset] Thankyou, Steve. Larry, are there any indications what's going to happen? Kowalski's getting awfully restless out here. LM: I don't know... Hang on... [Poutine Janois leaves the huddle of officials, and heads out into the arena.] LM: The head of the IIWF Special Concerns Committee is making his way out to ringside. I'm sure he'll have some kind of announcement. Back to you, Tim. [Cut back to the arena. Janois makes his way down the aisle. Kowalski leaps down from the top of the cage into the ring. Janois confers with the referee and Sparkplug Lee outside the ring.] TD: Janois has already had a run-in with Mad Dog Watkins tonight. He's one of the busiest men in the IIWF week in, week out. [The ring announcer raises his microphone to speak again:] RA: Ladies and gentlemen, I have been informed by Poutine Janois, the head of the IIWF Special Concerns Committee, that Marty Warnett is _not_ here in the Coliseum tonight. [The crowd erupts with a chorus of jeers. In the ring, Kowalski beats his fist on the turnbuckles in frustration.] RA: Therefore, Mr. Janois awards this match to Steve "the Fury" Kowalski by default. [Big heel pop] However, he has decided that the standard ruling of Championships only changing hands on a pinfall or submission should hold true in this situation. Therefore, still the IIWF Intercontinental Champion, in absentia, Marty Warnett! [Mixed pop from the crowd. Kowalski screams with rage and dashes from the cage. The referee attempts to restrain him, but Kowalski simply rams him into the steel railing. The Fury makes a beeline for Janois, who has turned and begun to head back up the aisle.] TD: Did you see that? Kowalski struck an official! SR: Good for him, Dross. Kowalski's tired of being screwed over by the IIWF suits. First they suspend him for threatening the President, then they put him in a stacked title match to make sure he loses the title, and now they protect Warnett, who's probably off somewhere high as a kite on some illegal substance or other. TD: You have no proof of that, Steve. Hang on -- Kowalski's arguing with Janois in the aisle! [Kowalski and Janois stand face to face, Kowalski yelling at the suit, and Janois standing his ground, trying to reassure Kowalski. The Fury has heard enough, and shoves Janois backwards. Stunned pop from the crowd, which turns to cheers as Janois, turning a shade of crimson, gets right back in Kowalski's face!] TD: This could be a mistake! Kowalski shouldn't have laid his hands on a high-ranking IIWF official, but Janois should know better than to get in Kowalski's face! We need some help out here! SR: Kick his ass, Kowalski! [Janois fires back with a shove of his own, and points a finger at Kowalski, yelling at him. Kowalski lunges at Janois with a kick to the midsection, doubling the official over. He puts Janois' head between his legs, and underhooks first one arm, and then the other.] TD: NO! SR: Oh yes. Skullpump him, baby! [The crowd jeers louder than ever as Kowalski hoists Janois up and drives his head into the concrete floor with his Skullpump double underhook piledriver. Just moments after the sickening impact of skull against concrete, a horde of security staff descend on Kowalski and drag him away from the motionless Janois.] TD: I can't believe what we have just seen! Kowalski just executed a Skullpump onto the concrete floor! Janois isn't trained to take that kind of manoeuvre -- he has no wrestling training! That might have killed him... SR: One less suit to worry about, Dross! TD: How can you say that, Steve? I'm sickened... absolutely sickened to my stomach. How could Kowalski do such a thing? [An EMT crew rushes down the aisle with a stretcher and begins examining Janois. The crowd hushes as Kowalski is dragged away back to the locker room area.] TD: We've got a medical crew out here, but... oh my. Kowalski's going to pay for this, Steve Roberts. He may well have just bought himself a one-way ticket out of the IIWF. SR: Let them try and fire him, Dross. The Fury goes where he wants, says what he wants, and does what he wants. That's just the way it is. [The EMT crew carefully put a neck brace on Janois and roll him onto a stretcher. Meanwhile, the ring crew has already half dismantled the steel cage. The stretcher is rolled back to the locker room area.] TD: Fans, we apologise for the graphic nature of that horrific assault on Poutine Janois, the head of the IIWF Special Concerns Committee. I can assure you that such incidents are isolated... SR: Hey, Dross, just as well this show goes out live, because if it had been taped, they would have edited that bit out for sure, and it's the best thing we've seen all night! TD: Steve, you sicken me. I understand that Janois is going to be taken to Portland General Hospital immediately for a suspected fracture to the neck... SR: There's going to be so many wrestlers and staff in that hospital before too long, they'll have to give the IIWF its own wing. TD: In just a few moments, we're going to see tonight's huge six-man tag double championship main event. What a match this is going to be. Both Dan Kauffman and the Dark Disciples put their titles on the line. We've already seen Kauffman and the Players' Club answer the call for an alliance with the "Outlaw" J.W. Hardin and Brody Thunder earlier tonight, but how strong is the Syndicate? Let's go backstage to hear some comments from Casey "Blackheart" James: [Cut to backstage. Casey and Brian Lau stand before a camera in a locker room. Casey inspects his muscles before speaking] CJ: Kids, there's a lot of guys around there who measure how "bad" they are by the amount of curses they utter. I'm not like that. I'm bad to the bone, man. I don't need to attack someone's preference or their manhood. I just attack the body inside that ring. Tonight, the Disciples and I are going to break the Players' Club. These guys have come into the IIWF, saying that they're the strong force running around. We all know that isn't true. The Syndicate is _THE_ organization in the IIWF, no matter what the rumormongers want you to beleive. I'm going to pin Danny Boy tonight, and I'm going to hold the world title for a second time. Look at me... Come on, go ahead... Don't I just _look_ like a champ? Of course I do. I research my opponents, I get into their heads... Hell, I'll even steal their dogs if I have to. Dan, you threw the IIWF for a loop with your announcement, but I honestly don't care. You want to face Quigley at Ring Wars III for the world title? No way. It ain't gonna happen. You and Quigley may fight, but _I'm_ going to be the champ. Kauffman, You'd be best to retire after tonight, because you're going to be hurting after I'm done with you. That rotator cuff injury is going to seem like small potatoes compared to the near death experience that you're going to have tonight. So Quigley, you might want to renegotiate that contract for Ring Wars III... If you want the belt, you're going to want to face me. But, of course, you don't have the guts... How many times have I pinned you now, Chris? Ask yourself that. BL: And Tiger Claw, stay away from us... CJ: Tiger Claw... Tiger Claw, do me a favour and don't get involved, okay? You taught me a lot, and I don't want to kick your tail after all you gave me. Just stay away. The Syndicate is gonna be shining like stars tonight, because that's exactly what we are. The shining light of the IIWF. The talent that everyone knows they need to beat to be anybody. But that's a lot easier than it sounds... Badda-bing, Badda-boom... We're going to see some pain tonight... Let's go, Brian. BL: Glory... Sweet, sweet glory! [Cut back to ringside.] TD: Fans, I'm still in shock about that heinous attack we saw just a few minutes ago. No word yet on the condition of Mr. Janois, but our thoughts and prayers are with him. SR: Oh, get with it, Dross! Let's see Casey James kick Dan Kauffman's butt all over the Coliseum! TD: It's time to get up to the ring for tonight's main event. Over to Sparkplug Lee for the introductions in this huge match: =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= DOUBLE CHAMPIONSHIP SIX-MAN TAG TEAM MATCH: =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Dan Kauffman [c] & The Players' Club vs. Casey "Blackheart" James & The Dark Disciples [c] ------------------------------------------------- WRITER: DS [Sparkplug Lee steps back into the ring and the uneasy crowd begins to settle once more.] RA: Ladies and gentlemen, it's time for tonight's main event! The following six-man tag team match is scheduled for one fall, and it is a special double championship match! The rules are as follows: if either member of the Players' Club pin or force either member of the Dark Disciples to submit, then we will have new IIWF World Tag Team Champions. If Casey James pins or forces Dan Kauffman to submit, we will have a new IIWF World Heavyweight Champion. Those two decisions are the only ways in which titles may change hands in this match. [Murmur from the crowd.] SR: Did you get all that, Dross? TD: Of course I did, Steve. SR: Great, because I didn't. TD: It's simple -- if Casey pins Kauffman, we have a new Champion. If Dynamite or Reyna pins Kane or Wulf, we have new Tag Champions. If anybody else pins anybody else, we don't. SR: Huh? TD: [sighs] Just watch the match, Steve. SR: But it hasn't started yet. I need a beer. TD: You stay right there. RA: Introducing first: representing the Syndicate, accompanied to the ring by "Big Bucks" Don McQueen, at a combined weight of 615lbs, here are the IIWF World Tag Team Champions, Kane and Wulf, the Dark Disciples! [Big heel pop as the lights in the arena dim, and the spotlights cast shadows of strange esoteric symbols over the crowd and onto the aisle. The strains of druidic chanting drift mesmerically over the PA system as Don McQueen leads his two monsters, Kane and Wulf, out into the aisle. They are without their defaced tag team belts.] TD: Here come the tag champs, and they don't look too happy. SR: Those two are only happy when they're chewing on human flesh. They know what they like -- you have to admire that in a guy, Dross. TD: If you say so, Steve. [The Disciples make their way to the ring and eye Sparkplug hungrily. He continues, with a nervous shudder:] RA: And introducing their partner: accompanied to the ring by Brian Lau, hailing from Washington, DC, and weighing in at 340lbs, here is Casey "Blackheart" James. [Another big heel pop as "Foul Taste of Freedom" starts up over the PA and Casey James steps out into the aisle, with Brian Lau following close behind. James has a confident smirk on his face, and he jaws with the fans in the aisle on his way to the ring.] RA: Introducing their opponents. First, making their way down the aisle, at a combined weight of 470lbs, here are "Desirable" Danny Dynamite and "Maverick" Michael Reyna, the Players' Club! [Moderate heel pop for the Players' Club as they step out into the aisle to the strains of "Bad Company". The brush off the fans' hands as they make their way down the aisle and jump to the apron, opening their jackets to reveal the charred IIWF World Tag Team Championship belts around their waists. The Dark Disciples take a step forwards, wishing to reclaim their belts from their illegal owners. Casey restrains them.] RA: And finally, introducing their partner, hailing from Hagerstown, Maryland, and weighing in at 230lbs, here is the IIWF World Heavyweight Champion, Dan "Flash" Kauffman! [Mixed pop as "Zero" starts up over the PA and Kauffman walks out into the aisle looking determinedly at the gang of men in the squared circle. Kauffman makes a circuit of the ring, and is suddenly squirted in the face by a ringside fan with a large cup of soda. Much laughter as Kauffman wipes his face.] SR: A direct hit from one of Joe Petrow's "Sychopaths"! [Kauffman jumps to the apron, and Casey James immediately motions that he'll soon have the belt around his waist. Kauffman smiles and nods, wiping the remaining soda from his face.] TD: Where are Hardin and Thunder? I thought they agreed to watch each others' backs earlier tonight. SR: Perhaps Hardin and Thunder got tired of waiting for the Players' Club to get their act together. You don't keep those hombres waiting, Dross. TD: You could be right, Steve. [Slowly, four men leave the ring. Casey James elects to start things off for the Syndicate, and beckons Kauffman into the ring. Kauffman shakes his head, and Reyna steps into the ring. Casey looks furious, and charges Reyna. Ding! Ding! Ding! Reyna is faster than Casey expected, and sidesteps the big man, felling him with a drop toe-hold. Casey is quickly back to his feet, and runs straight into an armdrag takedown by Reyna. Casey again gets to his feet, and is hiptossed into the Players' Club's corner. Reyna tags in Dynamite, and together the two cruiserweights whip Casey into the ropes, sending him flying with a high-elevation back body drop. Casey rolls out of the ring under the bottom rope to collect himself. Big pop!] TD: Casey James frustrated early on here by the pace and continuity of the Players' Club. SR: It's very early days, Dross. Those two jumping beans aren't going to keep out of the way of the pure power and strength of the Syndicate. [Casey gets up onto the ring apron, but whenever Dynamite approaches, James jumps back to the arena floor, and yells at the referee to keep him away. Casey climbs back to the apron, and the referee steps between Dynamite and James. Outside the ref's field of vision, Casey jams a thumb in Dynamite's eye, and the smaller man staggers backwards. Casey catapults himself over the top rope and floors Dynamite with an impressive flying clothesline. He stomps on the Players' Club member's head, and Dynamite rolls towards one corner, looking for the tag. Unfortunately, he rolls towards the Disciples' corner, and Kane and Wulf take great pleasure in labelling Dynamite with kicks and punches. Casey James whips Dynamite across the ring into the Players' Club corner, and beckons Kauffman to step up to the plate.] TD: What arrogance from Casey James! He doesn't want to attack Dynamite, he wants Kauffman! SR: Let's see if the so-called Champion has enough guts to step into the ring with Casey. [Kauffman makes a point of tagging in, and pats Dynamite on the back as he leaves the ring to collect his thoughts. Kauffman approaches Casey warily, and James stands, beckoning Kauffman to lock up with him. With one lunge, the two men lock up in centre ring, and Casey immediately shoves Kauffman to the mat. He flexes his muscles as Kauffman picks himself up. Big heel pop. The two men lock up again, and this time Kauffman slips James into a side headlock. He grinds his knuckles into Casey's scalp, and James pulls himself out of the hold, rubbing his head.] TD: Now it's Kauffman's turn to be arrogant. Rather than go for a wrestling move, he rubs his knuckles into Casey's head! SR: What a loser. He'll be laughing on the other side of his face before too long, Dross. [Casey charges Kauffman, who sidesteps the charge and follows Casey into the ropes, trying to pull him over backwards. Casey drives a fist into Kauffman's head, and then applies a reverse chinlock with one arm, punching Kauffman repeatedly in the ribs with the other. The official warns Casey, and Casey breaks on the count of four, standing and continuing to drive kicks into Kauffman's kidney area. Kauffman pulls himself back to his feet, and Casey whips him into the ropes. Kauffman ducks under a clothesline attempt by Casey, but then tumbles over the ropes to the outside as Kane pulls the top rope downwards! Big heel pop!] TD: Did you see that?! SR: See what? That clumsy moron overbalance and fall out of the ring? TD: He did not, Steve! [The referee warns Kane, and Casey goes to the outside. He grabs a steel chair from the timekeeper's table, and slams it down hard over Kauffman's back. Big heel pop! Brian Lau stands cheering James on, but is practically knocked over as Dynamite and Reyna run to their partner's aid. James wards them off with the chair, and the official leaves the ring to separate the factions. The ref turns his back on Casey, trying to push Dynamite and Reyna back to their corner, and Casey scores a couple more shots on the champion with his chair -- a blow to the ribs, and a jab to his right knee. Kauffman yells in pain, and Casey drops the chair. He picks up the champion and rolls him back into the ring, follows him in, and drags him into the Disciples' corner, where he tags in Wulf. Together, Casey and Wulf pummel Kauffman with more kicks and punches, until the referee forces Casey to leave the ring. Wulf then whips Kauffman into the ropes, and catches him by the throat on the rebound. Cameras flash all over the arena as Wulf picks Kauffman up, and then drives him down into the canvas with a chokeslam! Big heel pop! Wulf takes a moment to showboat for the crowd.] TD: What a manoeuvre! But notice that Wulf doesn't try to pin Kauffman -- he knows that the only way the Syndicate can take the title from him is if Casey pins him. Wulf's in there to do some wholesale damage. SR: And he does it better than just about everybody else in the IIWF, Dross. This guy really is a monster. [Kauffman lies on the canvas, his chest heaving, unable to pick himself up. Wulf drops down to the mat, and begins chewing on Kauffman's forehead. He is warned by the referee, who puts a count on him. Wulf breaks on the count of four, but has managed to open up a laceration on Kauffman's face. He drags the champion to his feet, and whips him into a neutral corner, then winds up and follows in hard with an avalanche splash. He whips Kauffman across to the opposite side of the ring into the other neutral corner, and then charges across with another splash attempt. This time, Kauffman, blood dripping down into his eyes, manages to dodge out of the way, and falls to the mat. Wulf hits the buckles hard, and also goes down. Kauffman begins desperately crawling towards his frantic partners, while Wulf sits up and shakes his head like a stunned animal.] TD: Kauffman's got to make the tag here! He's busted wide open, and he can hardly see where he's going in there... SR: Come on, Wulf! Get up! [Just as Kauffman is almost within arm's reach of his corner, Wulf grabs Kauffman's leg and drags him back towards the Syndicate corner, tagging in Kane. Kane is quick to enter the ring, and immediately slows Kauffman's resurgence down with a series of boots to the chest and head. He drops to the canvas and scratches at Kauffman's forehead, trying to open up the cut even more. He licks his fingers, and seems to enjoy the taste of the blood. Dynamite yells at the referee to stop Kane opening up the cut, distracting the official and allowing Kane to drag Kauffman into the corner for Casey James to choke Kauffman with the tag rope while Kane pummels his chest area with punches.] TD: That'll take the wind out of your sails in a hurry. Kauffman is in real danger of losing his title here, Steve. SR: I sure hope so, Dross. This is great! [The official turns and sees Kauffman trapped in the corner, and immediately calls for the break. Kane steps back, and Kauffman staggers forwards into the ring, only to be caught in a belly-to-belly suplex by the Disciple, who then goes to the outside and climbs to the top rope. He raises his arms to the jeering crowd, and then launches himself with a flying elbow drop -- and misses as Kauffman rolls out of the way! Huge pop!] TD: Come on, Dan! Make the tag! [The elbowdrop has clearly taken a lot out of Kane, and Kauffman starts crawling desperately for his corner, leaving bloody hand-prints in the ring as he goes, occasionally trying to wipe the blood out of his hair. Kane slowly gets to his feet, but is unable to stop Kauffman tagging in Reyna, who hits the ring like a house on fire. Kauffman rolls out to the arena floor, and is tended to by Dynamite, while Reyna comes off the ropes and hits Kane with a clothesline. Kane doesn't go down, so Reyna bounces off the ropes again and this time launches himself with a flying clothesline, taking Kane off his feet. Pop! Kane rolls to the outside, and Reyna measures him, running off the ropes again and throwing himself over the top rope with a somersault plancha -- but Kane moves out of the way, and Reyna hits the steel crowd barriers hard! Big heel pop! Kane stomps away on Reyna on the outside, and begins choking him with some ringside cable, ramming his head repeatedly into the steel crowd barriers.] TD: This is carnage! The Syndicate seem to have anticipated the gameplan of the Players' Club perfectly. Kauffman and his comrades are really up against it here. SR: It's just a matter of time, Dross. This one's all over, bar the shouting. All the Syndicate have to do is get Kauffman back in that ring and allow Casey to pin him! [Kane rolls Reyna back into the ring, and lays in a couple more kicks before tagging back out to Casey, who immediately cinches in his painful armbar submission. Reyna yells out, but refuses to submit. Meanwhile, on the outside, Dynamite has helped Kauffman to his feet, and both men climb back to the apron. Kauffman wipes the blood and sweat out of his eyes, but really looks like he has been in the wars, his face stained with his own blood. A buzz ripples through the crowd as a spotlight picks out two figures in the aisle. The "Outlaw" J.W. Hardin and "Lone Wolf" Brody Thunder stand side by side half-way down the aisle, conferring.] TD: I don't like the look of this. Hardin's such an unpredictable man, he could be out here to help or hinder either of these teams. SR: Hardin doesn't like the Syndicate, Dross, but he didn't like being kept waiting by the Players' Club either. Perhaps he and Thunder are going to come down here and clean house! [Casey, seeing the outlaws in the aisle, yells out to Lau. Lau speaks with McQueen, who then calls the Disciples down from the apron. He points Hardin and Thunder out, and the tag champs nod in understanding. They immediately stalk round the ring and head out into the aisle to confront the two men from the wild west.] TD: What's going on here? SR: Casey has this match sewn up, Dross. Lau and McQueen want to secure a little vengeance on Thunder and Hardin. [Kane and Wulf stand nose-to-nose with Hardin and Thunder, who hold their ground. A few words are exchanged, and then Hardin takes a shot at Wulf, triggering a wild four-man brawl in the aisle. The crowd cheers as the four athletes go at it. Meanwhile, in the ring, Casey releases Reyna from the armbar and drags him to his feet. He whips him into the ropes and hits the Blackheart Punch on the return. Reyna drops like a sack of potatoes. Big heel pop. James goes over to the Players' Club's corner, and slaps Kauffman round the face, then nails Dynamite with a hard punch that sends him to the floor, hitting his head on the crowd barrier as he goes. James drags Reyna over to the corner, and although the PC member seems to be semi-conscious at best, holds out his arm for Kauffman to tag. Kauffman grimaces, and slaps Reyna's hand. Casey throws Reyna out of the ring over the top rope as Kauffman reenters once more.] TD: This is a mistake by Kauffman. Both his teammates are down on the floor, and he's still bleeding from that cut on his head. SR: Yeah, but Casey's teammates are brawling in the aisle. This is one on one, Dross, the way it should be. TD: What about Lau and McQueen on the outside? SR: They don't count. TD: Of course not. [Casey and Kauffman slug it out in the middle of the ring, and it is clear that Casey is trying his best to open up the gash on Kauffman's head even more. He hits Kauffman in the stomach, doubling the champion over, and Casey sets him up for a vertical suplex. He hoists him up vertical and holds him there for what seems an eternity. Big heel pop!] TD: This is bad news for Kauffman! All the blood will rush to his head... SR: ...and straight out of that gash! Casey's going to knock him unconscious! What a display of power! [After about ten seconds, Casey finally lets Kauffman drop to the mat with a crash. Kauffman lies there, his chest heaving, and Casey makes the cover - 1 - 2 - Kauffman just gets a shoulder out! Casey drags the champion to his feet, and whips him into the ropes, catching him with a tilt-a-whirl backbreaker on the rebound. Casey makes another cover - 1 - 2 - Kauffman barely kicks out! Casey drags Kauffman back to a vertical base yet again, and this time hits him with a vicious powerbomb! Cover - 1 - 2 - again, Kauffman just kicks out! Big pop!] SR: Aw, come on, ref! That was a slow count! TD: Just look at the resilience of Kauffman! Nothing James can throw at him will put him away! The Disciples and the outlaws are still going at it in the aisle... the Players' Club are still down... it's just Casey and Kauffman, one on one! [Casey drags Kauffman back to his feet once more, and whips him into the ropes. This time, Kauffman ducks under a clothesline, and comes back off the opposite side of the ring with a flying fist, knocking Casey off his feet. Big pop! Kauffman slowly makes the cover - 1 - 2 - Casey kicks out with authority! Both men fight to their feet, and slug it out in the centre of the ring. Uncharacteristically, Kauffman strikes a low blow on Casey, knocking the wind out of the challenger. Casey doubles over, and Kauffman spikes him into the mat with a DDT! Big pop! Cover - 1 - 2 - Casey kicks out! Kauffman bounces off the ropes, and drops a leg across Casey's throat. He goes for the pin - 1 - 2 - kickout! Kauffman goes to the outside, and slowly climbs to the top rope.] TD: He's taking too long to get up there! Casey James is getting to his feet! SR: Go get him, Casey! TD: Kauffman's wobbling up there -- I think blood loss is making him feel faint. He could be in trouble here! [Casey pulls himself to his feet, and lunges at the ropes, shaking them sufficiently to unbalance Kauffman, who falls and straddles the top buckle painfully. Big heel pop! Casey goes to the corner, and climbs to the second rope. He drags Kauffman up so that he is standing on the top turnbuckle once more. The crowd jeers in anticipation.] TD: No! He's going for the Black Death! [Casey grabs Kauffman, lifts him up, and twists round, driving Kauffman's back and head into the canvas with his patented spinebuster from the second buckle! Huge heel pop! Casey covers Kauffman and hooks the leg - the referee makes the count - 1 -- 2 -- 3! Ding! Ding! Ding!] TD: No! SR: Yes! He's done it! He's done it! [The crowd erupts with a huge heel pop as Brian Lau and Don McQueen jump up and down in their excitement outside the ring. Casey pulls himself to his feet, and pulls his arm away from the referee. He runs his fingers through his sweat-streaked hair. Lau grabs the world title belt from the timekeeper's table and climbs the ringsteps, handing the belt to Casey, who holds it aloft.] RA: Ladies and gentlemen, here is your winner, and _NEW_ IIWF World Heavyweight Champion, Casey "Blackheart" James! TD: I can't believe it! I simply can't believe it! [The heel pop is almost deafening. Casey drops to his knees, and pulls Kauffman's head up from the canvas, pointing at his title belt, rubbing his nose in his defeat. Kauffman is barely conscious, and Casey begins slapping him about, laughing his head off. The referee forces Casey away, and James shoves the official. He stands once more, fastens the title belt around his waist, and then continues to lay kicks into Kauffman's rib and kidney areas. Dynamite and Reyna pull themselves up onto the ring apron, but are soon knocked back to the floor by a single blow from Casey James.] TD: Just like that, we've got a new IIWF World Champion... and it's this despicable individual, Casey James. SR: This is great, Dross! This is great! [The brawl continues in the aisle, and security swarm out to try and separate the outlaws and the Disciples. Casey continues to beat on Kauffman in the ring. Suddenly, there is a huge pop as a figure streaks down one of the aisleways in the stands, vaults over the crowd barriers, and slides into the ring behind Casey James.] TD: It's the Subway Psycho! It's the Psycho! SR: Not the Stinker! Get him out of here! [The Psycho spins Casey around and peppers him with hard rights and lefts, staggering the new champion. The Psycho whips him into the ropes, and then clotheslines him out of the ring. Huge pop as he tends to Kauffman, guarding him from further attack. Lau and McQueen hold Casey back.] TD: This is chaos out here! The Subway Psycho has come to the aid of Dan Kauffman... but too late. We have a new IIWF Champion, folks! We're right out of time for tonight, but what a show it's been... we've seen Serge Annis burned by the White Phoenix, we've seen Brody Thunder defeat Tiger Claw in a Texas Death Match, we've seen Steve Kowalski Skullpump Poutine Janois, we've seen Mad Dog Watkins and Creed get in each others' faces... and now we've seen the crowning of a new IIWF World Heavyweight Champion! I'll have more information in Tuesday's Inside the IIWF, and don't forget to check the IIWF Hotline for all the latest IIWF news, but for now, we're out of here. I can hardly believe this... For "Soundbite" Steve Roberts, this is Tim Dross, saying: so long, everybody! [Cut to a wide-angle shot of the Psycho guarding Kauffman from Casey, and the brawl continuing in the aisle, despite the efforts of the security staff. 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 -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=+