[Fade up on images from last week's "Rage in the Cage" special, the match between the Subway Psycho and Otto Verhoeven. After Casey James has attacked the Psycho, Verhoeven and Subway Psycho hit the ropes together, climbing to the first turnbuckle and then the second. Subway Psycho has his back to the ring and is trying to hook up the Butcher for a midrope suplex... blocked. Subway Psycho lands a right hand and then another and again tries for a suplex... and is lifted off his feet! High in the air! And brought down...] SR: [commentary] Meathook chokeslam! Count him out, ref! [Verhoeven covers - 1 - 2 - 3! Ding! Ding! Ding!] SL: Your winner, as the result of a pinfall... Otto "The Butcher" Verhoeven! [Cut to footage from later in the same card, the cage match between Billy Shakespeare and Dan Kauffman. Both men get their second legs over the top of the cage within seconds of each other. For the first time since they started their climb, Kauffman's eyes meet Shakespeare's. The two men seem to hesitate, and one for a split-second longer than the other -- Shakespeare lets go of the cage, and falls twelve feet to the arena floor, followed only a moment later by Kauffman. Huge pop! Ding! Ding! Ding!] TD: [commentary] Wow! That was close! We have a winner -- but who was it? [On opposite sides of the ring, Shakespeare and Kauffman both lay flat out on the floor, exhausted by their effort. Alphonso leaves his position at the door of the cage, and walks around the ring to where Shakespeare lies. He raises Billy's arm to a huge pop!] RA: Ladies and gentlemen, here is your winner: "Spotlight" Billy Shakespeare! [The screen splits, one half showing Kauffman lying, his chest heaving, on the floor beside the cage, the other showing the Psycho winded in the ring, having been pinned by Verhoeven. Voice over:] VO: How the mighty have fallen. Two former IIWF World Heavyweight Champions narrowly beaten in huge matches, both men heading into different halves of the huge double main event at Ring Wars III. Tonight, the Subway Psycho and Dan Kauffman will meet one on one for the first -- and possibly last -- time. One man will prevail, and the other will go down to defeat one more time... Tonight, on: [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 + + 15 February 1997 + [The opening graphics fade through to interior shots of the jam-packed IIWF Coliseum. Fireworks explode high in the rafters as the excited fans cheer and wave home-made signs. The shot pans down past row upon row of faces, fans clamouring to get on shot, and comes to rest on the broadcast table in the ringside enclosure, at which stand Tim Dross and "Soundbite" Steve Roberts.] TD: Welcome everybody to the IIWF Coliseum here in downtown Portland, Oregon for another two hours of incredible live action here on IIWF Saturday Night! I'm Tim Dross, and beside me as always is my broadcast colleague, "Soundbite" Steve Roberts. SR: And the pleasure is all yours, Dross, let me assure you. TD: Fans, we're now only five weeks away from the IIWF's biggest pay-per-view spectacular to date, Ring Wars 3. The IIWF President will be on hand tonight to add more matches to the line-up, and I understand that he also has details of an inter-federational agreement of some kind. But more importantly, we have no less than nine unbelievable encounters scheduled here in the Coliseum tonight, headlined, as you saw at the top of the show, by the Subway Psycho taking on Dan "Flash" Kauffman -- two IIWF superstars whose fortunes have been on something of a down-turn as of late. SR: Well, I can only see bad things in the future for both of those two morons, Dross. What with Kauffman's desire to get his butt kicked by everybody else in the IIWF before he retires, and the Psycho's problems with the champ, Casey James, those two are in for a lot more bad luck. TD: We also heard yesterday that the "Outlaw" J.W. Hardin and Brody Thunder intend to finish the Syndicate here in the Coliseum tonight, with or without the help of the Players' Club. We could be in for a wild brawl later on tonight! SR: No "could" about it, Dross -- if Hardin and Thunder say they're going to do something, you can take it to the bank. There's going to be blood spilled before the night is out. TD: The tournament to crown the first IIWF United States Tag Team Champions also continues tonight, as two former World Tag champs go up against newcomers to the tag scene: the Armed Forces will battle the impressive Prophets of Rage, and the High Plains Drifters will face the unpredictable Harlequins. SR: I'm picking the Prophets and the Drifters, Dross. No question about it. TD: We also have two championship matches here tonight -- the IIWF World Tag Team Champions, the Dark Disciples, go up against the Zodiac Connection, and IIWF World Heavyweight Champion Casey James faces Dirt Dog Unique Allah. SR: The Syndicate are coming in with the belts tonight, and they're going home with the belts too, Dross. TD: We'll see about that. Two other marquee encounters scheduled here tonight see two of the toughest men in the sport today, Mad Dog Watkins and Brody Thunder, go at it one-on-one, and "Quickstrike" Chris Quigley will attempt to lay the ghost of the Deathbringer to rest. SR: Heh. "Kick Me" is going to be the only one laid to rest here tonight, Dross, mark my words. TD: We're also going to see the mysterious Spur battle Ronnie Paris a little later, and Becky LaRue will be speaking with Mad Dog Watkins in her Lair, but before all that, our first match tonight pits one of the IIWF's veteran competitors against a very promising newcomer: The Hangman takes on Requiem. And Brian Lau has found himself a seat at ringside, presumably to scout out the competitors in this match. [Cut to a shot of Brian Lau seated in a ringside seat, surrounded by security staff, who try to fend off the various pieces of trash hurled at the Syndicate head honcho by the hostile crowd.] SR: Lau's got big plans for the future of the Syndicate. My guess is that he's scouting the Hangman. My money's on the Hangman as well, simply because that Requiem guy's guitar playing is lousy. TD: Expert match analysis there by Soundbite. SR: Hey, I try... TD: Sparkplug's in the ring, and we're about to get underway here. Let's go to ringside. =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Requiem vs. The Hangman =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= WRITER: MP [Sparkplug Lee steps into the glare of the spotlights in centre-ring.] RA: This following contest is scheduled for one fall, with a thirty minute time limit. Introducing first, hailing from Loredo, Texas, and weighing in at 322lbs, here is The Haaaaaaangmaaaaann!! [Big heel pop as "Desperado" by the Eagles starts up over the PA system and the Hangman enters the aisle, in his all-black wrestling attire and black hangman's hood. He raises the noose he carries to the crowd, inciting an even bigger heel pop.] TD: Looks like the Hangmen are coming out in force here tonight. [The other two Hangmen appear in the aisle, identically dressed to the first. They flank him as he walks down the aisle.] SR: Okay, I'm confused. Which one of these three is fighting? TD: I would presume it's the one with the noose. [The Hangman steps into the ring, raising his arms again to another big heel pop. The other two Hangmen take up positions at ringside. The Judge Roy Bean, who had been following behind the main party, pulls up a place next to the timekeepers' table.] TD: Well, you've got to admit that the tactics are spot on. I find it hard to believe that Requiem will be able to concentrate on the match with that little entourage outside. RA: ...and his opponent, hailing from Parts Unknown and weighing in at 306lbs, here is Requuuuuiiiiiiieeeemm! [Big crowd pop as "Desperado" fades, to be replaced by "The Music Of The Unknowingly Damned" by Requiem as the big man steps into the aisle. Requiem walks to the ring, playing the theme music out on his electric guitar.] TD: The crowd have really taken a liking to Requiem here tonight! SR: [holding his ears] Sorry? What was that? I can't hear above this racket! [Requiem makes his way to the ring, and after glaring at the two Hangmen on the outside, carefully places his guitar down in his corner before stepping through the ropes...] TD: And the Hangman is on him straight away like a shot! Look at this! Requiem didn't even have time to take his jacket off! [The Hangman backs Requiem into the corner and starts hammering away with big forearm shots and kicks to the midsection. Requiem drops to one knee from the force of a headbutt, and the Hangman capitalises by Irish whipping Requiem cross-corner with enough force to send him flying back out again! Big heel pop!] TD: Hangman following through with a shoulderblock... SR: Whoa! TD: The two giants just collided, and neither man budged an inch! Hangman shakes his head, and tells Requiem to try again... [Requiem does, bouncing hard off the ropes and coming right back at the Hangman... another huge collision, and still both men remain unfazed! Big crowd pop! The Hangman yells at Requiem to try again, Requiem goes to the opposite ropes and comes back at the Hangman, the Hangman whips out a clothesline at the last second, Requiem ducks, comes off the opposite ropes...] TD: And a _big_ flying shoulderblock and _that_ takes the Hangman down! [Requiem raises his arms to the crowd as the Hangman slowly rolls to his feet, shaking his head. Requiem finally pulls his coat off, throwing it to the outside before almost decapitating the Hangman with an awesome clothesline! Big crowd pop! Requiem comes off the ropes again, Hangman drops down under his feet on the rebound, quickly jumps back up and tries a clothesline of his own as Requiem comes back... Requiem ducks, makes a sharp turn, and sends the Hangman back to the mat with another huge clothesline of his own! Big crowd pop! Hangman slams the mat in frustration, and rolls to his feet as Requiem charges to the ropes again, and gets his foot caught by one of the Hangmen on the outside! Big heel pop! Requiem keeps his footing though, and kicks the Hangman off, and turns to be greeted by a powerful lariat from the Hangman that sends him out over the top! Huge heel pop!] TD: And the other Hangmen have disrupted the match already. If the referee doesn't take care, heaven only knows what could happen out here... [The Hangman makes to climb out of the ring, and the referee pulls him back. The Hangman makes an issue out of it, distracting the referee and giving the two Hangmen on the outside the opportunity to lay the boots in on Requiem.] TD: Oh come on, this is uncalled for... but I suppose it had to happen. Hopefully Requiem will find a way to counteract this triple threat... [The referee starts to turn to count out Requiem again, but the Hangman grabs his shoulders and pulls him back, allowing one of the Hangmen time to slam Requiem onto the concrete outside, before rolling him back into the ring. The two Hangmen move away, and the Hangman inside the ring finally breaks away from the referee, but only to drop an elbowdrop across the small of Requiem's back! Big heel pop!] TD: Requiem took quite a beating out there... SR: And it may be about to get worse! Here comes Serge Annis! [Serge Annis begins to make his way down the aisle to a considerable heel pop, and the Hangmen at ringside turn to face him. Annis, however, seems content to stand at the head of the aisle and watch proceedings.] TD: Four people at ringside... five if you count Brian Lau's presence in the stands. There should be some way of regulating this. SR: What? And miss out on all the fun? Not a chance... [Back in the ring, the Hangman scoops Requiem up, who seems to be favouring his back slightly, and delivers a hard backbreaker before making the cover... - 1 - 2 - kickout with authority. The Hangman quickly rolls Requiem over, and drops another elbow across his back before locking him into a Boston crab. The referee checks for the submission.] TD: Not a chance. That Boston crab doesn't look to be locked in all that effectively. SR: It's still taking it out of Requiem though. Take a look at his face! [Requiem starts to inch his way towards the ropes, and the Hangman, realising he's not having much success with the hold, breaks and picks Requiem back to his feet, tuns him with a headbutt and then whips him into the ropes, locking him into a tight bearhug as he comes back! Big heel pop as Requiem twists in pain!] SR: Now try telling me _that_ hold isn't locked on well! [The referee asks for the submission again, and finds none forthcoming. Requiem holds his hands in the air, and the crowd get right behind him! Requiem belts the Hangman hard with an earringer, and he staggers, but doesn't release the hold. Requiem hits him again... and again.. Hangman breaks, and Requiem hits him hard with a series of right hands, then a left uppercut and a headbutt that sends him staggering back into the ropes! Big crowd pop! Requiem Irish whips him across the ring, puts his head down and catches the Hangman in a perfectly-executed tilt-a-whirl suplex! Big crowd pop! Requiem with the cover... - 1 - 2 - kickout by the Hangman! Requiem picks him up again, locks in a facelock, and sends him to the canvas with a snap suplex! Another cover! 1 - 2 - kickout again! Requiem picks the Hangman to his feet again, and sends him to the ropes with another Irish whip... reversal by the Hangman... and the Hangman throws Requiem right out to the outside! Big heel pop! The referee starts to warn the still dazed Hangman again, but one of the other Hangmen leaps to the ring apron, and as the referee turns to warn him, the other Hangman on the outside rolls Requiem back into the ring, and rolls in himself as the "real" Hangman rolls out! Huge heel pop as the crowd yell out in protest!] TD: Oh come on! This isn't a tag match!! SR: No, but it sure is fun... [The fresh Hangman quickly goes to work on the dazed Requiem, stomping away at his back and then dropping an elbow down across the small of his back. The remaining Hangman drops off the ring apron, and the referee turns to find Requiem being locked into a cobra clutch. He asks for the submission, and again none is coming.] TD: Requiem's showing a lot of guts to keep hanging on here. SR: Hanging on? Was that a joke? [The referee asks Requiem for the submission again, but the Hangman breaks of his own accord, picking Requiem up and sending him to the canvas with another vicious backbreaker. The cover - 1 - 2 - kickout by Requiem. The Hangman picks Requiem up again, waistlocks him, and executes a belly-to-belly suplex... another cover, he hooks the leg... 1 - 2 - kickout again! The Hangman rolls Requiem over, and goes back to the cobra clutch.] SR: I love it! The Hangmen are just taking Requiem apart here! TD: You said it. SR: Huh? TD: Hang_men_. [The referee asks Requiem for the submission again, and he still shakes his head, although the pain is evident on his face. Requiem struggles, and manages to get his knees under him, relieving some of the pressure of the hold. The Hangman looks around in disbelief, as Requiem manages to push himself up to one knee. Suddenly, Requiem pushes himself all the way up, lifting the Hangman up into the air and falling backwards on top of him! Big crowd pop! The effort took a lot out of Requiem though, and both men stay down on the canvas, Hangman rolling around in pain.] TD: And that may have bought Requiem some time! Serge Annis seems to have lost interest, he's heading back towards the dressing rooms... SR: Come on Hangman! Get up! [Both men start to recover at about the same time, and the Hangman lashes out at Requiem with a roundhouse punch. Requiem somehow manages to block it, and retaliates with one of his own! Big crowd pop! Requiem lashes out again!] TD: And Requiem with a kick to the stomach! European uppercut! Headbutt! He backs the Hangman into the ropes... [Requiem tries an Irish whip, and the Hangman reverses it... the Hangman drops his head for a backdrop...] TD: And Requiem with a DDT! That'll do it! SR: No! The Hangman rolls out to the outside! TD: Oh, come on! One of the other two is up on the ring apron again! The ref... the referee is blind! He has to be! [Once again, while the referee is distracted, the fresher Hangman rolls into the ring, feigning injury... Requiem staggers to his feet, and walks across to the floored Hangman.] SR: And that's gonna leave Requiem singing higher for weeks! TD: Blatant low blow. I've given up on this referee. The Hangmen have been cheating every chance they've got, and Requiem's been fighting three men, not one... SR: Don't sulk, Dross... [The Hangman gets to his feet, pulls Requiem up... and gets caught in a small package! 1 - 2 - ] TD: He got him! SR: No! He got his shoulder up!! [The Hangman breaks out and starts kicking away at Requiem furiously. The crowd, at this point, is practically giving a non-stop heel pop. The Hangman picks Requiem up... Irish whips him into the ropes, and nails a spinebuster.] SR: That's got to do it. Game over. [The Hangman goes for the cover... - 1 - 2 - and pulls Requiem's head back up. He turns around and hold his hand up to the crowd, and picks Requiem up again, locking him into position for a piledriver.] SR: It's over. [The Hangman strains, but Requiem kicks, and the attempt is blocked! The Hangman tries to lift him again, but Requiem sets his feet and this time the Hangman can't even lift his feet off the canvas! The Hangman sets himself for another try.] TD: And a _big_ backdrop by Requiem gets him out of trouble! [The Hangman quickly gets to his feet again, turning and picking Requiem up again... Requiem responds with a headbutt to the stomach that winds him! Big crowd pop! Requiem winds up, and unleashes a huge haymaker that spins the Hangman around, Requiem waistlocks him...] TD: Atomic drop... Belly-to-back suplex! And the Hangman hit hard! SR: No! GET UP! [Both men start to stagger to their feet again, and Requiem dashes forward with a clothesline that sends both men back down to the canvas! Big crowd pop! One of the Hangmen jumps to the ring apron again and starts trying to distract the referee... The Hangman in the ring starts to roll to the outside, but Requiem catches his ankle... He pulls the Hangman to his feet, headbutts him twice, and the remaining Hangman rolls into the ring and smashes Requiem to his knees with an axehandle, and is just starting to roll his partner out as the referee turns and finally sees what's happening, and runs across, ordering the Hangman out.] TD: What? [The referee shouts across to Sparkplug, who steps up towards the ring steps.] TD: What's the decision here? RA: The referee had ordered that the two remaining Hangmen on the outside will return to the dressing rooms immediately! [Huge crowd pop!] SR: What?! TD: He's letting the match go on! [The Hangmen on the outside start yelling across to the referee, and make no sign of leaving ringside. The referee turns to Sparkplug again.] RA: The referee has ruled that if the Hangmen do not return to the dressing room area immediately, they will each be fined $10,000! SR: He can't do that! For all we know, that might not be the real Hangman in there! [Huge crowd pop! The Hangmen stare at each other for a second, and then start to back up the aisle, pointing at the referee. Inside the ring, both men are beginning to stir again. The Hangman is first to his feet, and he looks around for signs of his comrades, before pulling Requiem to his feet by his ponytail, and sending him straight back down with a headbutt. The Hangman goes to the ropes, and comes off with a high elbowdrop across Requiem's chest... The Hangman covers him... - 1 - 2 - kickout by Requiem, but just barely.] TD: The Hangman with a forearm shot, backing Requiem to the corner... and another forearm.. facelock... suplex coming up... [The Hangman lifts Requiem up, but instead of suplexing him, takes a step forward and dumps him onto the top turnbuckle.] SR: All right, this is it... Requiem's a goner! [The Hangman starts climbing the turnbuckles up after him, and somewhat dazedly hooks Requiem up for a superplex. The crowd start to buzz anxiously... The Hangman tries the suplex... and Requiem blocks it! Huge crowd pop! The Hangman lets go, and nails Requiem on the top turnbuckle with a haymaker! Big heel pop! Requiem fires back, and the Hangman sways backwards! Big pop! The Hangman tries another punch, and Requiem blocks it! Huge crowd pop!] TD: Requiem with another big roundhouse punch! And another! And a headbutt! And another headbutt! Requiem now, the crowd are all right behind him. He pushes himself up to his feet on the top turnbuckle. SR: Oh please, no... [Requiem pulls the Hangman up until they are both standing on the top turnbuckle, and hooks the Hangman's head into position.] TD: And there it is! The Final Lament top rope powerbomb! Both men are down in the ring, all Requiem has to do is roll over and cover him! [Requiem slowly pushes himself up, and drops an arm across the Hangman's chest - 1 - 2 - ] TD: Three! He got him! [Ding! Ding! Ding!] SR: I don't believe it, I just don't believe it! [Requiem groggily rises to his feet, and the referee holds his hands up in the air to a huge crowd pop!] RA: Here is your winner by pinfall.... Requuiiiiiieeeeeeeeem! TD: And he didn't just beat one Hangman in there tonight, he beat three! [Requiem staggers from the ring as "The Music of the Unknowingly Damned" starts up over the PA once more. Judge Roy Bean rises from his seat at the timekeeper's table and remonstrates with the Hangman before helping him from the ring.] TD: What a victory for Requiem. Okay, folks, up next we're going to see the first of tonight's two first round US Tag Title Tournament matches. The brackets got underway on Wednesday night, with newcomers Cold Spell and Night Patrol progressing into the second round. But before we get back up to the ring, let's go backstage to Larry Morton, who is with the IIWF President for his thoughts on the Tournament. [Larry Morton stands backstage with IIWF President Daniel Spreadbury.] LM: Thanks, guys. With me at this time is the esteemed President of the IIWF, Mr. Daniel Spreadbury. I know you're very busy at these events, so we appreciate you taking some time to speak with us tonight. DS: My pleasure, Larry. LM: So what are your thoughts on the ongoing United States Tag Team Title Tournament? DS: Of course I would hope to see a little more sportsmanship displayed in these matches, but thus far I am extremely impressed with the caliber of matches that have taken place, and I'm sure that we will continue to have excellent matches right up to the finals at Ring Wars III. LM: Any news on what team will fill the vacant spot to face G.W.R. next week? DS: As of this time we are still negotiating to find a suitable team for that spot, but I assure you and all of the IIWF fans that... [A figure bursts into the shot.] JP: Hold it right there! LM: Oh, no! Sychosys, what are you doing here? JP: Well, excuse me for interrupting your little lovefest to interject some TRUTH into this discussion! You say there's no conspiracy here in the IIWF against Sychosys? Well just talk to this man right here! [points at Spreadbury] I've been calling IIWF Towers every day trying to secure a spot in this tournament! I'm a former World's Tag Team Champions, don't tell me I'm not "a suitable team!" DS: First of all, Petrow, come join me in the real world for a moment! I don't care what your opinions on me or the rest of the IIWF officials are, we are NOT going to let the IIWF become your personal playground! This is a serious, TAG TEAM tournament, and I don't care how many personalities you have, you are one person, NOT a tag team! JP: Spreadbury, that's a damn cop-out and you know it! What's the team this spot is facing, "Gwar" or something like that? You let teams named after third world American territories in but not a legend like me? You should be giving me a bye to the finals! DS: Petrow, I don't have time for this, you're not getting into the tournament, and that's final. JP: ALRIGHT, ALRIGHT! I'll get a partner, will that satisfy you? DS: Who? JP: I DON'T KNOW WHO! Listen Spreadbury, I'm bringing myself and someone else to the plate. I _know_ you're not going to find a better team than that on such short notice! Now do I get in or what? DS: Fine, you get a partner, your team gets the shot. But if you show up for that match without a partner, I'm suspending you indefinitely from the IIWF, you understand that? JP: Perfectly! Now if you'll excuse me, I have to prepare for my match tonight. [walks away] DS: YOU DON'T HAVE A MATCH TONIGHT! [lets out a big sigh] You know Larry, sometimes this job isn't all it's cracked up to be. LM: Well, thank you for your time anyway, Mr. President. You heard it folks, Sychosys and his partner will be facing G.W.R. next week in a first round United States tag team title tournament matchup. God help the rest of the bracket! Back to you guys! [Cut back to the announcers' table at ringside.] TD: Give me a break. SR: Heh, Dictator Danny had better let Petrow into that tournament... "Sychosys" could kick G.W.R.'s sorry asses single-handedly anyway. TD: I don't know about that, Steve. Let's get back up to the ring and take another step towards the crowning of the first IIWF US Tag Champs. SR: Who cares about those trinkets? Everybody knows that they'e just a badge to pin on some team who can't cut the mustard enough to win the World titles. TD: You shouldn't be so cynical, Steve. Most of the IIWF's top teams are gunning for the new titles, and the United States belts are sure to become very prestigious. In this match veteran IIWF stars the Armed Forces take on newcomers the Prophets of Rage. SR: The Armed Forces have gone sof, Timmy boy. I haven't seen them wield a golf club in weeks. The Prophets of Rage are young, they're mean, they're hungry, they're gonna make short work of these washed-up military men. TD: I expect a tough battle all the way, Steve. The Armed Forces are former World champions and they always come to fight. Let's go down to Sparkplug for the introductions. =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- IIWF United States Tag Team Championship Tournament Match: -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Armed Forces vs. Prophets of Rage ---------------------------------------------------------- WRITER: RD [Sparkplug steps into the glare of the spotlights again.] RA: Ladies and gentlemen, the following first round tournament match is scheduled for one fall. Coming down the aisle, hailing from Omaha Nebraska, weighing in at a combined 643lbs, here are NavCom and DefCom of the Armed Forces! [Machine gun noises and ambulance sirens blast out over the PA system as NavCom and DefCon, attired in their military uniforms, make their way down the aisle. The audience gives them a loud cheer and the two troopers stop to sign a few autographs at ringside. Suddenly there is a shocked gasp from the crowd as the Prophets of Rage prematurely rush down the aisle. The military sound effects are cut short as Derek and Shadoe Rage ambush the Armed Forces from behind. Derek floors DefCon with an axehandle to the back of the neck, then drags him up and hurls him into the steel ring steps. Shadoe throws his cloak over NavCom's head and the naval officer wildly stuggles to free himself. Shadoe is able to restrain him long enough, however, for Derek to sieze a ringside chair and KO the befuddled military man. Heel pop! Pizzazz, the Prophets' manager, casually makes her way down the aisle, smoking from her cigarette holder as usual.] TD: Oh my goodness! The Prophets of Rage blitzed ringside and caught the Armed Forces totally unawares. This could be immensely detrimental to the Armed Forces' game plan. SR: That was great! NavCom and DefCon are rolling around in pain outside the ring and the match hasn't even started yet! What savvy from the Prophets of Rage. [The Prophets unravel NavCom from the cloak and roll him back into the ring. Shadoe climbs through the ropes and the ref signals for the bell. Ding! Ding! Shadoe immediately goes to work stomping on his fallen opponent. Meanwhile outside the ring DefCon is staggering to his feet in a daze. Derek Rage is not about to give him a chance to recover and retrieves the steel chair. The giant laughs as he cracks the chair across DefCon's forehead, knocking him for six. Unrelenting, Derek then works over the camotose soldier with the chair, ramming him in the back several times with the edge pointed downwards. The crowd begins to jeer and the ringside fans pelt the giant with trash, but Derek just snickers and goes to his corner, the referee not noticing a thing.] TD: That was absolutely disgraceful! How can a title tournament match-up be allowed to be tarnished by such dishonourable actions? I hate to say this, but the Armed Forces might have already missed their chance to advance to the second round. SR: Who cares about the Armed Forces? A team as action packed as the Prophets of Rage don't come along every day. This kind of brutality could make them the first U.S. champs. [The camera shows Team Brutality -- Pain Inc. and Night Patrol -- along with their managers watching the match intently from the stands. Back in the ring, Shadoe drags NavCom up by the hair and whips him to the ropes, meeting him on the rebound with a flying forearm smash. Shadoe goes for the quick pin: 1 - 2 - kickout by NavCom. Shadoe merely grins and brutally stomps the naval officer in the forehead, before going over and making the tag to his partner. Derek and Shadoe immediately begin double-teaming the weakened NavCom, taking turns dropping fists, elbows and boots. The two thugs lift Navcom to his feet, and hold him in position for a spike powerbomb. The ref warns the Prophets off, but they just snicker and execute the move anyway. Heel pop!] TD: Come on, referee, that was blatantly over the legal man time limit! Get one of the Prophets out of there or call for a DQ! SR: Hah! You expect a wimp like Alfonso to stand up to a big monster like Derek Rage? The Prophets do whatever the hell they please and I like it! [Earl Alfonso begins to berate the Prophets of Rage, but they blithely ignore him and Shadoe returns with deliberate casualness to his corner. Derek drags NavCom's limp body back up by the collar and slugs him several times with hard over hand rights. Derek lets go of the collar and NavCom simply crumples to the canvas. Meanwhile DefCon appears to have recovered somewhat outside the ring and finally makes it to his corner, still looking a bit dazed from the chair shots. Derek looks amused at NavCom's apparent helplessness and runs to the ropes in preperation for a big splash. Just as the giant is about to land, NavCom musters his last ounce of strength and manages to roll aside, causing Derek to land on the canvas hard, his knee striking the mat awkwardly. The crowd cheers wildly! The navy officer begins to crawl over to his corner inch by inch and the fans at ringside start to chant "Nav-Com! Nav-Com!" Derek appears to have injured his knee and winces in pain, having trouble getting back to his feet.] TD: What endurance and determination displayed by NavCom there! It looked all over for the Armed Forces but now they have a glimmer of hope. SR: Harrumph. There were times I displayed far greater feats of resilience before my back injury. TD: Since when did slapping your opponent occasionally and then running out of the ring define resilience? SR: You'll be sorry for those words one day, Dross. The IIWF ain't the only game in town. Once Hollywood recognises my superstar talents I'm outta here. TD: Oh, please. [The crowd grows anxious as NavCom struggles to make the tag. Derek manages to get to his feet and limps over to his corner. He has a smug look on his face as he is about to make the tag to Shadoe. Suddenly however, just as his arm is outstretched, the expression turns to shock. Derek's knee buckles out from under him and the 7'2" giant begins to topple like a redwood. He crashes into the ring ropes and then goes right over them, landing hard on the arena floor. Finally, and with great effort, NavCom is able to tag his partner and the crowd goes wild! DefCon is still looking a little dazed, but he is fired up nonetheless, and immediately goes sailing over the ropes with a plancha dive onto Derek Rage, who was struggling to get to his feet once again. Both men crash into the steel barriers with great force, but DefCon is able to absorb most of the impact and is immediately back on his feet. Big crowd pop!] TD: What an athletic maneuver for a 300 pounder to perform! And what a turn-around for the books! It is a credit to the Armed Forces' ability that they were able to withstand the earlier attack and make a comeback like this. SR: NavCom and DefCon still look pretty battered to me, while Shadoe has yet to take any punishment what-so-ever. Things are still looking good for the Prophets of Rage. [Derek Rage gets to his feet, once again with considerable difficulty. DefCon begins to unload with lefts and rights, staggering the big man up against the apron. Defcon grabs him by the hair and rolls him back into the ring, then climbs through the ropes himself. Shadoe begins to berate the soldier from ringside, and DefCon calmly walks over and plants a big headbutt in the centre of the heel's face. Crowd pop! Shadoe is stunned and drops from the apron. Derek Rage is still rolling around on the canvas, and DefCon runs up and big splashes the giant. The crowd pop grows louder as DefCon signals for his finisher! The military man hauls up Derek Rage and displaying tremendous power, executes the Ballistic Missile powerbomb. Defcon tags in his partner, who climbs up onto the top turnbuckle in preparation for the AK47 splash.] SR: No! No! No! No! No! [Just as NavCom is about to launch himself off the ropes for the finishing touch, Pizzazz runs over and begins shaking the ropes frantically. NavCom overbalances and plummets from the top turnbuckle, landing face first alongside the motionless Derek Rage. A gasp goes up from the crowd! Earl Alfonso runs over to the ropes and begins berating Pizzazz, who does her best to cry innocence. DefCom begins stomping his feet and shouting encouragement to his fallen partner. Shadoe takes advantage of all the commotion and enters the ring, dragging his brother back to their corner. When the referee turns his attention back to the ring, Shadoe is able to easily tag himself in from his barely concious partner. Once again, he goes straight to work, dropping a legdrop across the back of NavCom's neck.] SR: What a brilliantly executed game plan by the Prophets of Rage! The Armed Forces don't know what the hell they're doing in there! TD: The Armed Forces are trying to wrestle the match like sportsmen, Steve, and if it wasn't for the reprehensible tactics of the Prophets of Rage, they would have the win wrapped up already. [Shadoe locks NavCom in an abdominal stretch and appears to be waiting expectantly for something. Derek Rage rolls off the apron onto the arena floor on his feet and limps over to the Spanish announcing table. In an apparent effort to distract the referee, he begins to trash the television monitors and equipment as the Spanish announcers look on petrified. The ruse works well, and Earl Alfonso leans over the ropes and begins yelling at Derek Rage to calm down. There is a stir at the head of the aisle, and the crowd jeers as Medusa Rage runs down to the ring! She climbs up onto the top of the neutral turnbuckle, and Pizzazz does likewise on the opposite turnbuckle. Shadoe laughs and shoves the bewildered NavCom into the centre of the ring, and the naval officer looks hesitant, not knowing from which direction to expect an attack. DefCon runs along the apron to push Pizzazz off the turnbuckle, but she simply climbs down looking unconcerned. DefCon runs back towards Medusa Rage but too late! Medusa comes flying off the turnbuckle and executes a headwrecker flying bulldog on NavCom. The naval officer is motionless on the canvas and Medusa quickly bails from the ring as the ref turns back to the match. Shadoe drops atop NavCom for the pin: 1 - 2 - 3! Ding! Ding! Ding!] RA: Here is your official decision. The winners, as a result of a pinfall, Derek and Shadoe Rage, the Prophets of Rage! TD: What a dispicable victory. The Prophets of Rage should be kicked out of the US title tourney for their actions tonight. SR: What are you talking about, Dross? That was one of the greatest performances I have seen in ages. The Armed Forces were completely suckered! I'll be keeping an eye on the Prophets of Rage in the future. TD: You have a very disturbed view of the world, Steve. [The Prophets of Rage don't celebrate in the ring too long, perhaps concerned that the Armed Forces will seek retribution. As they head up the aisle, the crowd boos them solidly. Moments later, DefCon has managed to revive NavCom enough so that they can make their way backstage. The crowd gives them a spirited pop as they head up the aisle.] TD: Well, the Forces may be down, but they're not out. The Prophets will advance to face either the Zodiac Connection or the Players' Club in the second round in two weeks right here on... hang on, I'm being told that there is a disturbance in the back. Do we have a camera on the scene? SR: Maybe there's blood! Go to the shot! [Cut to a shaky shot backstage. It is obvious that the camera operator is running. Movement can be seen ahead and the camera lights snap on, illuminating a large loading area in the IIWF Coliseum. Brody Thunder and "Outlaw" J.W. Hardin are punching and kicking Casey James, who doubles over. Thunder grabs what appears to be a branding iron and winds up to club James.] SR: It's Hardin and Thunder! They'd said they were going to take care of business tonight and it looks like Casey James was the first victim. [Thunder prepares to hit James with the steel rod, but is knocked off balance by Wulf of the Dark Disciples. Kane and Hardin immediately begin brawling, as do Thunder and Wulf.] TD: You knew the Dark Disciples wouldn't be far away -- not after "Outlaw" J.W. Hardin advertised this attack on last night's program. SR: I honestly think these guys are loving this. They're all brawlers. This is great! [The cowboys battle the Disciples to a standoff. Suddenly, two more figures can be seen rushing in from dressing room area. Danny Dynamite tears into Kane, and Michael Reyna hits Wulf with a double-axhandle.] TD: It's the Players' Club! They've answered the call and are trying to help decimate the Syndicate. SR: Brian Lau and Don McQueen had better get some help back there for their men! [Wulf and Kane fight hard, but cannot overcome the odds. They are slowly beaten down. The Jobber Security Squad finally arrives on the scene, only to be kept at bay by Thunder swinging the branding iron like a baseball bat. Dennis "Griff" Griffing, head of IIWF Coliseum security, attempts to slip past Thunder and is greeted by a blow to the head. Thunder tosses him at the other members of the security team.] TD: This has turned ugly backstage! We could be watching the end of the Syndicate as we know it! SR: It looks like Hardin wants to finish off Kane. [Hardin pulls Kane to his feet and delivers a hard blow to his chin. He spins Kane around, pins his arms behind his back, and signals to Dynamite to take care of business. Dynamite looks around, then grabs a chair and charges at Kane, who drops out of the way at the last minute. The edge of the chair slams into Hardin's sternum.] TD: Oh my... Dynamite missed Kane and hit Hardin! We've got... oh no! [Thunder, seeing Dynamite hit Hardin, drops Wulf and turns his attention to the Players' Club. He bulls into Dynamite and both men hit the floor hard. Reyna attempts to pull Thunder from his partner, only to be met by a lariat from the "Outlaw."] TD: Hardin and Thunder are now fighting the Players' Club! SR: That's the break Brian Lau and his men were looking for. They're getting out of there! [Lau and McQueen, both of who have arrived on the scene, are helping Casey, Kane and Wulf away from the brawl. The Syndicate head back to the locker room area, leaving the four remaining men to fight it out. The Jobber Justice Squad then is able to separate Hardin, Thunder, Dynamite and Reyna, all of whom still want a piece of each other. Several profanities can be heard as the men are held back. Cut back to Tim Dross and Steve Roberts at the broadcast desk.] TD: I can't believe what we just saw. The Syndicate was in trouble when the Players' Club came to assist Thunder and Hardin, but an accidental blow triggered a brawl between the men who were supposed to work _together_. SR: Well, you say it was an accidental blow, but how do we know Dynamite wasn't _trying_ to hit Hardin with that chair? TD: Don't try to stir up any more trouble, Steve. We have much more action to go tonight, including a few matches with men involved in that scuffle we just saw. I don't know if any of them will be 100 percent. Anyway, we must get back up to the ring for our next US Tag Title Tournament match. The zany Harlequins are going to go up against former World champions, the High Plains Drifters. Will the Drifters be the second former World champs to fall in the tournament, or will they triumph over the Harlequins here tonight? SR: What kind of a question is that, Dross?! The Drifters are going to kick the Harlequins' painted tails clear out of the Coliseum. TD: The Harlequins certainly have other ideas: [Cut to footage subtitled, "Earlier Tonight." The Harlequins are walking down a darkened hall to the arena.] TRAGEDY: All is in readiness. MELODY: Everything present and accounted for. [Chaos smashes his fists against the wall. Chips of concrete fly.] CHAOS: AAAAAARRRRRRGGGHHHHH! The breakdown of all things is a natural process. Tonight we accelerate it for two men! COMEDY: HAHAHAHAHA! They won't know what hit'em! MELODY: Until it's too late! CHAOS: And we have won! [The Harlequins stop. Tragedy puts on his steel mask.] TRAGEDY: High Plains Drifters, we are the Alpha of your Omega. The beginning of your end! COMEDY: And we're gonna have a good time doing it! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! [Cut back to ringside.] =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- IIWF United States Tag Team Championship Tournament Match: -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= High Plains Drifters vs. Harlequins ---------------------------------------------------------- WRITER: DK ["My Lover's Box" starts to play over the PA system, and the Harlequins arrive, led by Harlequin Comedy, who carries along what could be best described as a bulging bag. Tradegy follows out to a mixed pop, then his big 16-year old brother, Chaos, makes the back of the procession. Comedy has fun with several non-plussed fans at ringside, and the Harlequins enter the ring, the bag thrown in the corner.] SL: The following contest is a First-Round tournament match to crown the first IIWF United States Tag Team Champions! Intro... Ouch! Hey, watch it with those things! HEY! I'm going to go get my lawyer... [The Harlequins have pulled out a couple of "superballs" from the bag in the corner and are bouncing them into, around and over the dazed Sparkplug Lee, much to the fan's liking and Lee's discontent. Tragedy looks him in the eye, then meanders back away.] SL: Um... now where was I... oh yes, introducing first, at a combined weight of 545 pounds, Chaos, Tragedy, The Harlequins! [Lee just barely eludes a final superball bounce, and the ball goes skyrocketing into the crowd.] TD: Those are some goofy toys the Harlequins have, Steve. Goofy toys go with goofy wrestlers, I suppose, but this is a little much... SR: [chuckling] It's amazing how the littlest of distractions gets our glorified ring announcer out of shape. TD: Sparkplug Lee just never seems to have a good day. Fans, if we can get a camera up in the stands... [A camera shot follows into the upper sections.] TD: There you can undoubtedly see that Team Brutality... otherwise known as Pain Inc. and the Night Police... are still in the stands, watching the tournament action. SR: They're scouting their next victoms, after that great attack the Patrol put on the Zodiac Connection last weekend. Later on, the Zodiacs will be trying in vain to wrest the tag titles away from the Disciples... Maybe I can convince the Patrol to do an encore performance later tonight. TD: You will do no such thing, Steve. SR: What are you, my boss? TD: Oh, how I wish I was... ["The Good, the Bad and the Ugly" starts to play over the Harlequin theme, and Sparkplug tries to compose himself after the superball attack he sustained.] SL: And their opponents, at a combined weight of 502 pounds... the former IIWF World Tag team Champions, Easy and Pale Rider, the High Plains Drifters! [The Drifters appear, much to the crowd's total amazement, on two horses! They have bullropes on hand, and fire their "six-shooters" into the air to the crowd's shocked pop! The Harlequins are completely taken by surprise at the gun shots, and Plae and Easy ride up to the ring, swinging the ropes as lassos, and throwing them straight onto both Harlequins! Comedy, the only untrapped Harlequin, flies out of the ring as the Drifters hop off their horses, enter the ring, and start firing away on the tied-up Chaos and Tragedy!] SR: Now _that_ was an _entrance_! Go get 'em, guys! TD: I think the Drifters have seen one too many western movies, but boy, they are really taking their anger out on the Harlequins! [Tragedy is knocked down by a huge kick from Easy, and Pale simply backs the tied Chaos into the corner with a flurry of punches and kicks! Comedy complains vigorously outside the ring, and the Drifters continue their assault until the referee forces both Drifters back away. The ref tries, at first in vein, but then more successfully untying the Harlequins. As soon as Chaos is let free, he collapses from the assault! Tragedy, after being freed, has Easy drop a leg down! As the horses are led away from the ring by the IIWF event staff, the Drifters continue on the offensive, throwing the big Chaos into his corner and isolating Tragedy in the Drifter's corner...] TD: Both Harlequins have really taken a beating before the bell sounded, and the Drifters look in good shape now! Chaos looks severely stunned back in his corner, and Tradegy is trapped the whole way across the ring! SR: This is already looking like a western-style blowout for the High Plains Drifters, Dross! TD: Exactly what _is_ a western-style blowout? SR: Check out this double-team from the Drifters... TD: Uh-huh, that's what I thought... [Pale holds Tragedy in the corner, and Easy gets a head of steam and avalanches the Harlequin with force! Tragedy collapses into the center of the ring, and Easy tags Pale, who climbs to the top rope and launches with an elbow drop! Pop! Cover... 1 -- 2 -- Kickout! Tragedy rolls into a neutral corner, and Pale drags him up, ramming a shoulder into Tragedy's midsection. Two chops follow, then Pale sends Tragedy hard into the opposite corner! Tragedy bounces out from the force, and has his head snapped back after a vicious lariat! Big pop! Tragedy rolls on the canvas in pain, and Pale drags him over to the Drifters' corner once more, where another tag is made. Easy enters the ring, and promptly lifts Tragedy up into a military press slam! Cameras flash as Tragedy is dumped to the outside of the ring!] TD: That was a 12-foot drop Tragedy just sustained onto rock-hard concrete! My word, this match could well end in a countout here! SR: No way, Dross. Pale is making sure of that right now... [Pale brings the floored Tragedy to his feet, and instead of rolling him into the ring, tries to whip him into thwe crowd railing! Somehow, Tragedy has enough presence of mind to reverse the whip, and sends Pale crashing into the barrier! Pop! However, Easy reaches down from inside the ring, grabs Tragedy, and simply pulls him up to the ring by his neck! Big pop as Easy chokeslams Tragedy back into the ring! Cover... 1 -- 2 -- Foot on the ropes!] TD: Tragedy saved himself right there, but that chokeslam was one of the most impressive moves I've seen in a long time! It may be the beginning of the end for Tragedy! SR: Pale really took a shot on the outside, something I'm sure he'll want revenge for later on! TD: Easy lifts Tragedy up again... [And Tragedy is sent crashing down with another big body slam! Chaos, who has recovered in his corner, reaches out for a tag, but Tragedy is still too far away as Easy drags him back to the Drifters corner, where another tag is made, and both Pale and Easy set Tragedy for a double-Vertical suplex! Pop! A murmur sweeps through the crowd as Cold Spell, Edmund Fitzgerald and Icehawk, stand by the video wall at the entranceway, apparently to watch the match. Pale whips Tragedy off the ropes, and tries to sidewalk-slam him on the return, but the Harlequin twists and brings down Pale with a desperation Head-Scissors takedown! POP! Tragedy tries to slide over to his corner, but Easy comes into the ring, grabbing Tragedy's leg! Tragedy twists, thrusts his other leg out and catches Easy right on the forehead! Easy reels back, and Tragedy leaps and makes the tag to Chaos!] SR: Shoot, and just when I thought the Drifters had this one solidly in their win column... [Chaos shoots into the ring and immediately tosses the small Pale Rider out of the ring with ease! Chaos whips Easy off the ropes, and hits him with a HUGE back body drop that solicits a "WOW!" from the crowd! Easy gets back up, and Chaos simply lifts him and drops him with a sweet side suplex! Chaos with the cover... 1 -- 2 -- KICKOUT! Pale has regained his composure, and as Chaos backs Easy into a corner, he climbs to the top rope and jumps onto the back of Chaos! Chaos simply drops back with all his weight, crushing Pale underneath! Big Pop! The diversion allows Easy to stomp down on Chaos, but Tragedy comes back into the ring and turns Easy around! Easy grabs Tragedy by the throat, but Chaos, seeing his partner's predicament, thrusts a boot where the sun don't shine...] TD: Ouch! I believe the Harlem Men's Choir is in attendance tonight, and I hear they have an opening for a high tenor... I think we have the guy you are looking for right here! SR: That isn't funny, Dross. Easy has "commitments" you know... [Easy also has severe pain, and crumples to the mat. Pale is still lying on the canvas, and Tragedy allows himself to be backdropped by Chaos onto the prone Pale... but Pale moves just in the nick of time, and before Chaos turns around, Pale Rider covers the stunned Tragedy... 1 -- 2 -- Kickout! Chaos still hasn't turned around, and Pale dropkicks him in the back, sending him outside the ring! Pale brings Tragedy to his feet, and whips him off the ropes, hitting a spinning back heel kick on the return! Cover... 1 -- 2 -- Shoulder up! Pale doesn't like the ref's count.] SR: I think Pale Rider has a beef here, that was an awfully slow count... TD: That count was fine! You need your eyes checked, Steve... SR: You need a more-realistic toupee and a weight-training program... TD: One shot at a time, please. [Pale brings Tragedy to his feet, and whips him towards the ropes, but Tragedy slides under the bottom rope, which causes Pale to stand in center ring confused, thus not allowing him to see Harlequin Chaos come from behind with a Yo-Yo from the bag! Chaos nails Pale with the plastic object, then makes sure Easy Rider stays down after the crotch shot he took earlier as Tragedy comes in and rolls on top of Pale... 1 -- 2 -- 3! Both Harlequins roll out of the ring in a hurry, and Comedy picks up the bag, puts the Yo-Yo back in, and carries it with her as the Harlequins make a hasty retreat.] SR: No way! I've seen some screwy endings, but this takes the cake! A yo-yo? Give me a break! TD: The Harlequins brought their "bag o' tricks" out for a reason, Steve, and they used it to their advantage. Pale is still dazed, and Easy took one powerful shot right where it hurts. The Drifters made an impressive entrance, but they didn't get the job done. SR: This still smells awfully fishy. [The dazed Drifters converse a little bit in the ring before exiting and heading back up the aisle.] TD: Well, we're ready to go back to ringside for what should be a high-octane clash between two of the IIWF's newer superstars: Spur and Ronnie Paris. And the stipulations for the match are as follows: should Spur win, he will choose Paris' next opponent. These two are really building up a history here in a short time. SR: Should be a good match. TD: Steve? SR: Anytime Widdle Wonnie Pawis gets beaten from pillar to post, it's a good match. TD: [sighs] Let's get the official word. =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Spur vs. Ronnie Paris =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= WRITER: MP [Sparkplug Lee enters the ring, nervously looking across at Brian Lau, who remains seated in the front row at ringside.] RA: The following contest is scheduled for one fall, with a thirty minute time limit. Introducing first, hailing from The Dark Side and weighing in at 230lbs, here is... Spuuuuuuuurr!! [Sizeable heel pop as the masked form of Spur appears in the aisle to "A Mad Russian's Christmas" by the Trans-Siberian Orchestra...] TD: This is really one very strange individual.. SR: Hey, as long as he knocks some of Pawis' teeth out, he's worth a little strangeness. [Spur enters the ring, and his music slowly fades out] RA: And his opponent... [big crowd pop] ...hailing from El Paso, Texas and weighing in at 210lbs, here is Ronniiiiiiieee Paaaaariiiiiiiss! [Big crowd pop as Ronnie Paris enters the aisle and "We Are The Champions" by Queen starts up over the PA system. Paris walks down the aisle to the ring, slapping the fans' hands but staring intently at Spur...] TD: These are two excellent technical wrestlers here. If they can keep their tempers in check, we'll be in for an excellent match. SR: On the other hand, if they let their tempers take control, it'll be much more entertaining. [Paris walks around ringside, ignoring a volley of abuse from Steve Roberts, and steps into the ring, squaring off against Spur. The music again fades out, and both men get ready to start the match.] TD: Some final instructions from the referee... SR: ...which should be ignored at the earliest opportunity. [Spur and Paris circle slowly, before flying into a collar and elbow tie up. Both men struggle for the advantage, and the lock is broken by a throw off from the slightly larger Spur. The men circle and lock up again, and Spur backs Paris into the ropes. The referee steps between them, forcing the clean break, and Spur steps back into the centre ring.] TD: Slow, measured start here by both men, and the referee's asserting his authority early. [Both men lock up again, and Spur takes the advantage with a side headlock. Paris reverses the hold into a hammerlock, then takes Spur down with a single leg trip, locks in a leg hammerlock and reaches out for Spur's mask...] TD: And Spur just shot to the ropes! He didn't like that at all! SR: Would you like it if someone tried to rip off your toupee? TD: I don't think it's quite the.. Hey! [Spur slowly gets back to his feet, glaring at Ronnie Paris. The two lock up again, and Spur moves in more aggressively, winding Paris with a kneelift and then taking him to the canvas with a fireman's carry. Spur drops an elbow, and Paris moves out of the way, catching Spur with an arwringer as he rises. Paris takes Spur to the canvas with a snap armdrag, keeping hold of the arm. Spur quickly gets back up before Paris can switch into a submission, and Paris doubles him over with a quick kick to the stomach before lowering his shoulder and backdropping Spur to the canvas. Paris rolls over, and locks both feet against Spur's shoulder, pulling back on the arm.] TD: Excellent display of technical skill there by Paris, keeping his momentum... SR: Oh yeah, brilliant stuff by widdle Wonnie... [Spur rolls to one knee, Paris still attached to the arm, and reaches out for the ropes, his fingers just grazing them. Spur shifts his weight, pushing Paris into a pinning position, grabbing the rope for extra leverage.. - 1 - 2 - the referee spots the infringement, and forces Paris to break his hold on the arm. The two men start to circle again, lock up, Paris takes Spur to the canvas with a fast headlock takedown, before starting to tug at Spur's mask again! Spur rolls Paris over, forcing Paris to change the hold to a facelock, and both men quickly get back to a vertical base. Spur forces Paris back into the corner, Paris quickly switches positions, and the referee quickly starts to impose himself again...] TD: And Spur with a thumb to the eye over the referee's shoulder! SR: That's more like it! Take it to him! [Spur takes Paris by the hair, running him across to the opposite corner and slamming him face first into the turnbuckles! Big heel pop! Spur backs Paris into the corner, catches him with two hard knife hand chops and then a knee lift, before running him out of the corner again. He tries to slam Paris' head into the opposite turnbuckles, but Paris blocks, and reverses it! Big crowd pop!] TD: Elbow to the stomach by Paris... Paris turns.. inverted atomic drop sends Spur staggering backwards! Paris with a bulldog! SR: Come on Spur, do something... [Paris again drops down and tries to unmask Spur, and Spur rakes his face, sending him staggering backwards. Spur stumbles back to his feet, to receive a dropkick from Paris that sends him straight back to the canvas! Paris picks Spur up, backs him into the ropes and sends him for the ride with an Irish whip. Spur leapfrogs Paris' attempted backdrop, and Paris hits the opposite ropes as Spur stops himself, Spur turns, ducks an lifts Paris in the air, hitting him with a hotshot on the top rope! Big heel pop as Paris rolls on the canvas, clutching his throat!] SR: Yeah! Now make him bleed! TD: You really don't like Ronnie Paris, do you, Steve? [Spur pulls the winded Ronnie Paris back up, twisting his head around into a neckbreaker! Big heel pop, Spur makes the cover, hooking the leg... - 1 - 2 - kickout by Paris! Spur grins, picks Paris back to his feet, backs him into the ropes and whips him cross-ring, before catching him on the rebound with an awesome flying reverse elbowsmash that almost takes Paris' head off! Big heel pop as Spur rolls over, making the cover... - 1 - 2 - kickout by Paris! Spur quickly gets to his feet, dropping a fistdrop to Ronnie Paris' temple, then locking on a chokehold! Big heel pop as the referee counts... - 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5... the referee warns Spur, and he shakes his head before choking Paris again... again he holds on for the full five count, and the referee warns him again. Spur picks Paris back to his feet, doubles him over with a kick to the midsection, then whips him to the ropes. Spur puts his head down for a backdrop...] TD: Paris with a sunset flip! The referee's in position! One! Two! SR: And Spur claps Paris' ears with his heels! Good move! [Spur rolls back to his feet, pulling Paris up as he does so. Paris catches his leg, pulling him into a small package...] TD: One! Two! Paris nearly catches Spur off guard again! SR: And now he's paying for it! Look at Spur kick away! Bwahahaha! [Spur quickly lays a series of stomps on Ronnie Paris, pulls him up to his feet and sends him hard into the turnbuckles... Paris hits hard face first, staggers back out, and Spur catches him, sending him crashing to the canvas in a high back suplex! Big heel pop! Spur steps to the outside...] TD: Now what's Spur doing? Grabs the top rope... And Spur slingshots himself on top of Ronnie Paris! What a move! [Spur hooks the leg... - 1 - 2 - weak kickout by Paris. Spur pulls Paris back to his feet, hooking him into position for a suplex... there's an excited crowd pop from the top of the aisle Spur takes Paris down with a snap suplex, then heads to the outside again, this time going to the top rope...] TD: Someone's making their way down to ringside... It's Luke Steele! SR: Oh joy. It's a rookie convention. [Spur waits poised on the top turnbuckles as Ronnie Paris slowly starts to push himself up... Paris gets to his knees, and Spur comes off with a flying elbowsmash onto the back of Ronnie Paris' neck! He rolls Paris over... and spots the "Real Deal" on the outside, and drops Paris, walking across to argue with Steele! Big heel pop!] TD: That could have been a mistake by Spur... he could have had Paris right there. [Luke Steele and Spur engage in a brief, heated argument, and Spur laugh, turning back to towards Paris...] TD: And Paris with another small package! One... Two... Three! SR: No! Spur kickout out again!! [Spur quickly gets back to his feet, stomping Paris back down to the canvas again, and then dropping an elbow across Paris' throat! Big heel pop! Spur looks around at Luke Steele as he picks Paris up, sending him into the ropes again... as Paris comes back, Spur slams s foot into his midsection, doubling him over, before locking on a abdominal stretch. The referee checks Paris for the submission, as Spur starts to jaw with Steele again...] TD: Spur's got that locked on tight, but I don't think that Paris is going to give up. SR: The kid's a quitter. He'll give up. [As the referee checks Paris again, Spur reaches out behind him, taking hold of the top rope and using it to add leverage. Luke Steele slams the canvas hard, shouting to direct the referee's attention to it. The referee looks around, by which time Spur has let go! Big heel pop! The referee turns back to warn Luke Steele about interfering, and Spur grabs hold of the ropes again! Big heel pop! Steele looks aggrieved, and then notices the infringement, pointing it out to the referee again. The referee turns, and this time is alerted by the ropes shaking... he asks Spur, who naturally shakes his head, grinning. The referee checks Ronnie Paris for the submission again, and Spur reaches out for the top rope a third time... Big crowd pop!] TD: And the referee spots it, and kicks Spur's hand off! SR: He can't do that! He hit one of the wrestlers! Nail him, Spur! [Spur starts to yell at the referee, and Paris reverses the abdominal stretch with a hip toss! Big crowd pop! Spur quickly gets back to his feet, and Paris comes off the ropes, catching Spur in a sleeperhold!] TD: Ronnie Paris has that hold hooked on tight! This might do it! SR: Fight it Spur, fight it! [Spur starts to stagger to the ropes, then reaches backwards, catching hold of Ronnie Paris' head, and dropping to the canvas with a jawbreaker! Big heel pop as Paris falls backwards to the canvas! Spur staggers up, and starts to pick Ronnie Paris to his feet again...] TD: Shot to the stomach by Paris. Spur with a fist to the head... Paris with another shot... and another... kick by Paris, he catches Spur's neck, grapevines the leg... side Russian legsweep! SR: No! Come on, Spur! [Spur rolls backwards, and back towards begging off from Paris... Paris steps forwards, fists clenched, and Spur rolls back into the corner, pulling himself up... Paris steps forward at him again, and Spur lashes out with a kick at Paris' stomach... Paris catches it! Big crowd pop! Paris begins to lay blow after blow on Spur, before attempting an Irish whip into the opposite corner, Spur reverses it, Paris re-reverses and Spur spins out of it again, sending Ronnie Paris crashing face first into the turnbuckles! Paris staggers out...] TD: Scissors heel kick by Spur, and Paris is out! That might do it! [Spur rolls over Ronnie Paris, hooking the leg and putting his feet up on the ropes for leverage... Luke Steele leaps onto the ring apron as the referee counts... 1 - 2 - Steele throws Spur's feet off the ropes, and spur falls off Ronnie Paris, clutching at his leg in fake pain.. the referee sees Luke Steele on the ring apron, and signals for the bell.] SR: What? What's the decision? RA: Here is your winner, as a result of a disqualification... Spuuurrr! SR: Yes! I love it! TD: Unbelievable. Spur was cheating throughout the match, and Paris gets disqualified. [Huge heel pop as Spur quickly rolls out of the ring! Luke Steele slams his hands on the canvas angrily, and rolls in, arguing with the referee... Ronnie Paris shakes the cobwebs from his head, and pulls himself up with the help of the ring ropes. The referee shakes his head as Luke Steele tries to tell him that Spur had his feet on the ropes, and Ronnie Paris walks over, a look of anger on his face.] TD: Uh-oh. Ronnie Paris doesn't look pleased at being cost the match here. SR: Aww... is widdle Wonnie upset? [Paris pushes Steele away from the referee, and the two stare at each other for a brief second, then Steele holds out his hands and starts to apologise, explaining what he was trying to do. Paris shakes his head, angrily, and starts to turn away. Steele stops him, and holds out his hand, but Paris' emotions boil over and he pushes Steele to the mat to a gasp from the crowd! Paris throws his hands up, and storms out of the ring, heading back up the aisle to a mixed pop.] TD: Oh dear. That was very unfortunate. SR: Widdle Wonnie Pawis having a temper tantwum! TD: I'm sure once he calms down, Paris will accept Luke Steele's apology. It was a hard-fought match, but now Paris finds himself just where he doesn't want to be: in Spur's hands. SR: I hope Spur picks the Dark Disciples as his next opponent, I really do... TD: Speaking of whom, the IIWF World Tag Champs will be in action in just a few moments as they defend their titles against the Zodiac Connection, but before that, let's go over to Becky LaRue for tonight's edition of LaRue's Lair. Her victim this week: none other than Mad Dog Watkins. [Becky strides out in a Valentine red dress of mostly gauze with strategically placed hearts. She unceremoniously dumps a bag of letters on the floor.] BL: Becky, of course, wants to that all of you who sent me valentines. And, yes, those of you who send me money, I _do_ love you more. One is particularly disturbing. [She picks up a card and reads.] "Roses are red, Violets are Blue, I want to party with Becky LaRue." Marty, this may not be signed, but I know your handwriting too well. I know I was the first woman over the age of 16 who wasn't related to you that who showed you attention, but that was just an interview... television. Let it go, man! Now then, our next guest is a man for whom "Love" is a four-letter word: Mad Dog Watkins. [Watkins strides out in his standard wrestling gear, a look of seething on his face. He uncomfortably sits, making it obvious that the chair provided is much too small.] BL: "Mad Dog". You claim the moniker came from your wrestling style... but how do I know you didn't just steal it from a cheap wine? MD: Cheap?! The only thing even remotely cheap out here is you. Let's get one thing straight. I got the name just like I got everything else that's come my way in life -- I earned it. I just went out there and did my job like the man I am... no fake images and damn gimmicks. What you see is what you get. Kinda like you -- but what you're selling, I don't want no part of. BL: [scowling] Doesn't that nickname make you feel rather silly? MD: Doesn't that outfit make _you_ feel kinda silly? BL: You don't put a diamond in a plastic mounting. What, besides me, gets Mr. Watkins drooling? MD: Well, I already established that I'd rather take an ass-whuppin' than get next to you, so you can forget that. But what makes Mad Dog smile is when my hand is raised in victory. That's what it is all about. Sure the money is nice, and I definitely get my kicks by punkin' some pup around the arena, but ain't nothing like the taste of victory. BL: Hmmm, so rolling around on the floor with a young boy gets you drooling. I'll just leave that alone and talk about wrestling. You issued an open contract but only Brody Thunder was man enough to take it. Thoughts on Mr. Thunder? MD: Thunder's a tough SOB. I was more happy than surprised when he called me out, 'cause now, you see... NOW I get to get into the ring with one of the best the IIWF has to offer. I've heard about the great wrestlers in this fed from day one, but talk is cheap. I know Brody Thunder feels the same way, and we fixin' to get it on tonight. BL: All this is very nice talk... but admit it... stepping into the ring with him sends chills up your spine. MD: The only thing that sends chills up my spine was my ol' man and the looks he used to give, but he's been dead since 1979. But Thunder does get a reaction out of me. I think of him stepping between those ropes, and I can feel the excitement building. Idea of throwing down with some real competition stokes the fire within. Thunder just better make sure that he don't get me too worked up. BL: You're an old vet, coaxed into this league by Dictator Danny. You've seen a lot of wrestlers come and go. Who impresses you? MD: I'm impressed very rarely. Too many guys play it up and act the role, but how many guys are willing to stand toe-to-toe, night in and night out, and put everything they got on the line? Those are the guys who impress me. I'm not naming names, but you know who you are. A pretender knows deep down insides that he ain't got what it takes, and that when it comes to the big one, the pressure will make 'em crack and crumble. So he sits back and waits, trying to avoid someone like me who'll find that chink in his armor. You wanna impress me? Go out and take what you want instead of waiting for it to fall into yo' lap. Be a man. BL: I thought being a man _did_ mean falling into my lap. So who _doesn't_ impress you? MD: Hell, woman, I could be here all night! Warnett and his "Two drinks and I drop -- please help me I'm an addict!" ass. Quigley and his whining and bellyaching. You wanna be treated fair in this sport? Well, you don't ask for a fair shot, you make them give you one. Oh, and how can I forget the gimmicks? Deathbringer, "Mr. Firestarter" Serging Anus, Sandman, Shakespeare. BL: In the short time you've been here, you've gotten in a few wrestlers' bad books. Another one that comes to mind is Creed. Are you bent on self destruction? MD: Self-preservation is more like it. I'm a wrestler who thrives on challenge. You think I'm gonna last long in this fed wrestling guys like the American Patroit? Wrong. Dead wrong. And so what if I get on a few hit lists? Ain't nobody got a clue who's on mine. BL: Who's a better wrester: Bruno the Sandman or Steve the Fury? MD: First things first, ain't neither of them "wrestlers". Bruno didn't know a Saito Suplex from a good, swift kick in the ass. Fury is a little more clued in on things, but he'd still rather hit you with brass knucks or Skullpump ya all night. The better question is which one is better in a back alley fight. From my experience, I'd have to say Bruno and them crazy fire-red, mouton chop sideburns and hard liquor breath of his. BL: You're from Detroit. Did you ever run across two jobbers by the names of Heat and Hirise, aka "Towering Inferno"? MD: Did I ever. I remember a match back in the Erie Wrestling League when those punks came into wrestle ol' Mad Dog. Came in like Billy Bad Asses, and walked out like Little Orphan Annies. Alone, I whooped both of their asses and sent them home crying to their mamas. Only professional quality they shared between the two of them was their ability to job. Could pull it off at the drop of a dime. BL: Ever driven a Porsche? MD: Now do I look like I'd drive a Porsche? Only car I've ever owned is a Lincoln Continental, but that's nothing compared to the Harley I got back in '82. BL: You're an inner city kid, ever hot-wired one? MD: And I bet you think I speak Ebonics too, don't you? Stereotype me all you want, woman, but the first thing you better be thinking is that Mad Dog looks like trouble. And trouble with a capital T if you don't stop asking these dumb questions. BL: [Looking at her notes] I guess you just answered the Ebonics question. Um, you once protected Subway Psycho backstage. You claim to be the original "Lone Wolf", would you ever tag-up with another IIWF superstar? MD: Yeah, if it was someone whose lame ass I didn't have to carry. Someone I know who could match 110% of what I bring to the table. But I'm getting too old to baby some punk partner, and I'm too damn ornery to carry someone else's jockstrap to the gold. BL: Between you, me, and the viewers: That body of yours is "better living through chemistry" isn't it? MD: This body is 100% Grade-A, Steel City chiseled beef. Life in my neighborhood created what you see, not some damn lab. I didn't have time to be driving' no Porsches or to sit around on my ass -- I had to keep going to survive. Natural selection produced this body, and if you still don't believe me, all you gotta do is pull down these tights to see that I ain't never touched the stuff. BL: Since you are the all-knowing voice of experience, I'll give you one minute to impart some great wisdom. MD: It's simple. Spreadbury knew changes were coming when he signed Mad Dog to a contract, and everyone in the IIWF had better pay attention. Get in the ring with me if you want, or stay away from me if you're smart. But the simple fact of the matter is that there is a new rule in the IIWF: Don't mess with the Dog. I'm already pissed off enough as it is, and you're just gonna make matters worse. [Brody Thunder and J.W. Hardin step onto the set. Watkins stands his ground defiantly and readies himself for an attack. Thunder stops, puts his hands on his hips and smirks. He turns and looks at Hardin who smiles. He then turns back to Watkins, who is a mere six feet away.] BT: Don't worry Watkins... I ain't out here to start our match early. No, I'm here cuz I wanna know... are ya gonna stand out here an' bump yer gums all night... or are ya gonna get in that ring an' wrestle? I didn't come here tonight to see if ya could talk a good fight. I came here to see if ya can fight a good fight. I know yer tough. Hell, everyone knows yer tough... that's why there ain't been any other names at the bottom o' yer contracts. Everyone in the flamin' IIWF fears the Mad Dog an' ya know it. Everyone that is... but me. My fear ended the day I buried my paw an' I ain't feared nuthin' or no one since. Don't get me wrong... there's a difference between fear... an' respect. I DO respect you. I'd be a fool not to. But fear ya? That ain't happenin' in this lifetime, my friend. So ya just go on an' finish yer little speech with the lovely Miss Larue. I'll be waitin' fer ya in the ring. [Thunder and Hardin turn and leave the set.] MD: You ain't gotta wait long, Thunder, 'cause when I get through with you, I'm gonna bury you right next to your "paw"! BL: It's obvious that you are too worked up now to answer any of my questions. Why don't you leave? [Watkins turns and walks out. He shakes his head in contempt at Becky. He delivers a high five to a fan who reaches over the rail, eventually falling over the rail to the floor. Watkins shakes his head at this moron also. Becky yells after him.] BL: Hey, watch where you're stepping... those are my valentines! Back to you boys in the booth. Steve, I know there is one in here from you, I can smell the reek of your cheap cologne drifting up from the pile. [Cut back to the announcers' table.] SR: Don't flatter yourself, Becks. TD: I thought we were going to see Thunder and Watkins go at it right there, Steve. After that wild brawl Thunder and Hardin were involved in earlier tonight, I would have thought they'd try to stay out of trouble, not stir up more. SR: Then you don't know the "Lone Wolf" and the "Outlaw" like I do, Dross. Those two are the meanest hombres in the IIWF -- and Watkins is gonna find that out later on. TD: You might be right, Steve. Okay, it's time to move on to the first of tonight's championship matches -- tag title holders, the Dark Disciples, go up against the Zodiac Connection. How do you rate the chances of Scorpio and Taurus, Steve? SR: One word: nil. TD: That's blunt. Let's get back up to the ring. =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- IIWF World Tag Team Championship Match: -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Dark Disciples [c] vs. Zodiac Connection ---------------------------------------- WRITER: DK [As Sparkplug Lee waits in the ring for his cue, a fan holds up a blown-up photograph of a "Classic" Lee moment: the announcer tripping through the ropes and landing flat on his face in the ring. Lee catches sight of the photo, grimaces, then, unsure of what to do, waves at the fan. The crowd laughs.] SR: That was a great photo. I wonder if I can buy it from that fan over there. TD: A collector's item for sure... SL: Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest, set for one fall, is for the IIWF World Tag Team Championship! [Crowd Pop, getting louder as "East 1999" plays...] Introducing first, led to the ring by Gemini... SR: Vroom Vroom! TD: Steve, please. SL: ...at a combined weight of 575 pounds, Scorpio, Taurus, the Zodiac Connection! [The identical blonde twins known as Gemini come twirling down the aisle in a graceful manner as spotlights focus on the head of the aisle and the Zodiac Connection's entrance. Scorpio walks in front of his huge partner, and Taurus seems focused on the ring...] TD: Every time I see this team, I can't help but think that they have the makings of a future hall of fame-type team. They've got the speed and agility of Scorpio, and Taurus is one of the strongest men in the IIWF. Taurus also possesses good movement, so this is a very tough team to beat... SR: Should I ask out the Gemini on the left or the Gemini on the right? Oh, what did you say? TD: [sigh] I said that the Zodiacs will be tough to beat... SR: You're right, Dross, I _am_ feeling the heat! TD: You're pathetic, Steve. SR: I've always prided myself on that... oh, you said pathetic? Silly me, here I am think you said "romantic" Just what are you insinuating, Dross? [The Zodiacs have climbed into the ring and Sparkplug Lee, always mindful of the collector photo, starts to announce the champions.] SL: And their opponents... Accompainied to the ring by "Big Bucks" Don McQueen, at a combined weight of 615 pounds, the CURRENT IIWF World Tag Team Champions, Kane, Wulf, The Dark Disciples! [McQueen leads the champions out to a resounding heel pop from the crowd, and Kane and Wulf immediately begin berating the ringside fans. McQueen seems a bit distracted by the presence of the two twins, but the Disciples get to the ring focused on the Zodiacs.] SR: I'm going to try real hard to get my mind on wrestling... against my will here... just so I can say that if you think for one moment that the Zodiacs are defeating the Disciples here tonight, you've got to be a delusional freak! TD: [pause] Nice choice of words there, Steve. I might actually agree with you on this one... any athlete who gets clubbed with nightsticks repeatedly isn't going to be in top form just seven days later. The Zodiacs could have their problems. SR: [pause] Huh? Sorry, I was just admiring Gemini. TD: Uh, Steve, we haven't forgotten about Becky, have we? SR: Who's Becky? [Kane and Scorpio, the smaller of the two men on each side, start things in the ring. They lock up at center ring, and Kane simply powers the smaller Scorpio into a neutral corner. Scorpio walks out, and the two lock up again. This time, Kane drives a knee up into the gut of Scorpio, causing him to double over and allowing a quick DDT to be executed! Heel pop! Kane stands and mocks the crowd, then motions to Taurus with a rude gesture, causing him to enter the ring and be covered by the ref while Kane chokes the fallen Scorpio! Heel pop! The ref finally gets Taurus out of the ring, and Kane makes a tag to Wulf, who enters and quickly hauls Scorpio up into a big slam! Wulf runs off the ropes, but misses with a huge elbow drop, and Scorpio makes a quick tag to Taurus...] TD: This hasn't started well for the Zodiacs, but now we have the two big men in the ring, and I wonder who'll get the advantage here... SR: I've just realized how big a distraction Gemini can be to the Zodiacs' opponents... TD: Steve, will you please put your mind back on this match? [Taurus and Wulf lock up in center ring, and the taller Taurus uses his height advantage to execute a top wrist-lock and send Wulf on his head down on the mat.] TD: That was a good wrestling move from a guy that big... [The move infuriates Wulf, who springs onto Taurus with a flurry of punches and chops that stun the big Zodiac and the crowd at the same time! Taurus backs into the corner, and Wulf keeps coming, with two right hands, a clothesline, two shoulders downstairs, then three more right hands, and two more quick clotheslines, flooring the Zodiac in the corner! Wulf gestures to the crowd, receiving a few cheers, and a lot more jeers. Wulf brings Taurus up, tagging his partner Kane at the same time, then whips Taurus into the other corner. Wulf then whips Kane into the corner, and Kane performs a flying avalanche into the corner onto a weary Taurus! POP! Taurus crumples down in the ring, and the first cover... 1 -- 2 -- Kickout! Kane runs off the ropes and drops down with a splash! 1 -- 2 -- Kickout!] TD: Taurus is showing some toughness here, but the Disciples have picked up the intensity of this match! Wulf seemed to decide that enough was enough, and he stormed Taurus back and demolished him! SR: It was beautiful, Dross. TD: [pause] What's with you tonight, Steve? [Kane brings the big Taurus to his feet and whips him off the ropes, then tries to clothesline him down. The weight of Taurus simply makes this an impossible task, and it is Kane who gets drilled into the mat! Big Pop! Kane pops right back up, and somehow executes a stunning belly-to-back suplex on Taurus! Shocked pop! Kane goes to the top rope, tagging Wulf, then launching with a leg drop that misses as Taurus rolls out of the way! Wulf, having been tagged in, tries to reach Taurus as Kane is crumpled in the ring, but Taurus lunges and tags in Scorpio, who enters the ring fired up! POP! Taurus hits the big Wulf with two thrust kicks, a haymaker, and then comes off the ropes with a flying forearm that crashes Wulf into the canvas! Big pop! McQueen urges his men on, but the recovering Kane falls victom to an explosive spinning thrust kick! Huge pop! Wulf gets up, and catches the kick of Scorpio! Scorpio leaps and catches Wulf flush on the back of the head with a powerful enziguiri! Massive pop! Instead of going for the cover, Scorpio turns back around, and runs headlong into a massive spike slam of Kane! HUGE heel pop!] TD: That may have been the turning point right there! Scorpio had all the momentum going his way, he had _both_ Disciples reeling. SR: Tim, just like me, you can't keep a great man -- or team -- reeling for too long! The Disciples have asserted themselves! [Wulf has just started recovering from the enziguiri, and joins Kane in whipping Scorpio off the rops and catching him with a double-choke slam! BIG heel pop! Kane with the cover... 1 -- 2 -- Taurus makes the save, but is then bulldozed by a charging Wulf, sending both men to the outside! Taurus and Wulf brawl like wildmen along the security railing, and Taurus has his head bounced off the railing by a seething Wulf! Heel pop! Inside the ring, Knae has brought Scorpio up and lands a great powerslam! 1 -- 2 -- Kickout! Scorpio still has a little fight in him, and throws some desperation punches into the midsection of Kane. The Disciple quickly rakes Scorpio's eyes, then slams him in center ring and heads up top! Scorpio is dazed, and Kane comes flying off the top rope with a massive cannonball splash! Huge heel pop!] TD: This match is all over! The Dark Disciples are going to retain the championship... Hang on! It's Domination! SR: This is just starting to get good... [Wulf has been getting the better of Taurus outside, but Domination flies down the aisleway, Monster decapitating Wulf with a huge lariat! Jarvier joins in on the all-out attack, and as Kane starts the pin on Scorpio, he sees the attack on his partner and leaps over the top rope to help! Taurus gets away from the brawl and slides into the ring, where both Zodiacs lay tired! Domination and the Disciples fight like wildmen, with all four guys tasting the steel steps and the post, not to mention the timekeeper's table and steel crowd barriers! Kane grabs a chair and attempts to nail Monster, who kicks the chair into Kane's face! The chair falls down on the ground, and as Kane wobbles, Monster executes his Super-Face-Slam onto the chair on the outside! Huge pop! Monster rolls Kane back into the ring, then joins Jarvier against Wulf as the Zodiacs recover in the ring and see Kane laid out...] TD: What a shot Monster gave Kane on the outside! That alone has turned this entire match! SR: I don't believe what I think I'm seeing! [Monster and Jarvier do a number on Wulf on the outside, eventually double-suplexing him onto the steel steps outside the ring! HUGE POP! Inside, The Zodiacs have set up, and Scorpio climbs the top rope! The Zodiacs execute the Missile Launcher onto the unconscious Kane, and there is a huge pop as the cover is made! 1 -- 2 -- 3! Ding! Ding! Ding!] SR: No! The Zodiac Connection just... TD: ...just beat the Dark Disciples, Steve! We have new IIWF World Tag Team Champions! [The Zodiacs roll out of the ring, grab the belts at ringside, then run into the crowd, holding the newly won tag belts in the air to the crowd's delight! Kane is still out inside the ring, and the Jobber Justice Squad comes out to get Domination away from Wulf!] TD: [incredulously] I don't believe this! Domination came out and basically cost the Dark Disciples the World Tag Team Championship! Kane is laid out flat, Wulf is bleeding, and the Zodiacs are the _new_ champions! SR: Boy, how the planets must have aligned for the Zodiacs today... this is impossible, Dross! TD: But it's happened! What an upset! [As Domination is led off by the JJS, Don McQueen climbs into the ring along with a barely-moving Kane and a bleeding Wulf. McQueen grabs a microphone and looks at the Zodiacs running through the crowd...] DM: We're not done with you Zodiacs yet! Domination may have helped your cause tonight, freaks, but we want a rematch! If you two lucky inbreds are even close to being men, you'll give us our rightful rematch! Domination, you guys are DEAD! Zodiacs, we want our belts back, and we'll do ANYTHING to get them! [The furious McQueen leads his now-recovering Disciples out of the ring and back up the aisle to a resounding heel pop!] TD: That was unbelievable! SR: Yeah, and if you think the Zodiacs will be the champions after the rematch, you are one crazed lunatic! The Disciples are mad, and they operate best when mad! TD: The Zodiac Connection are the _new_ IIWF World Tag Team Champions, folks. As hard as that is for me to say, that's what's happened here tonight! Well, Steve Roberts, we are about to see what my daddy would have called a good ol'-fashioned slobberknocker. SR: What, is your mother here, Dross? TD: That was unnecessary. SR: Yeah, well... I think the question is how much slobber is gonna be left in Thunder's knockers after the Syndicate whacked him out in the back. TD: That was even more unnecessary. SR: That's why the people love me, Dross. TD: Let's get to ringside. =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Mad Dog Watkins vs. "Lone Wolf" Brody Thunder =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= WRITER: JJ [Sparkplug Lee's attempt to read the introductions is briefly halted by a disturbance from deep in the crowd.] SR: Well, look at this, Dross. It appears as if our other mystery ringside guests have arrived. [Creed and "The CEO" Jack Montgomery descend to the the empty floor seats in the front row. The fans around them stand and chant "Creed! Creed! Creed!" as the big rookie takes his seat. Creed is wearing his all-black streetclothes - jeans and tank top - along with a black San Francisco Giants baseball cap and his customary red left glove. He absentmindedly shakes hands and signs autographs for the kids who are now rushing to ringside, but keeps his eyes focused dead on the ring. The CEO has his laptop poised for notetaking, but is warmly greeting the fans, slapping high-fives and tossing red gloves high into the crowd.] SR: What the hell are these guys doing here, Dross? Can't we go one week without seeing Creed poking his nose into everybody's business? TD: I don't know if it's everybody's business or just Mad Dog's, Soundbite. We have seen some very peculiar confrontations between these two warriors -- and I have in on good authority that there may be more to this relationship than meets the eye. SL: Our next contest is set for one fall, introducing first, at a weight of 269lbs, from the Motor City, Detroit, Michigan... Mad Dog Watkins! [The Stones classic, "Paint It Black" kicks in over the P.A. and the crowd pops as the imposing Watkins makes his way to the ring, clad in his black tights with purple trim. Watkins gets to the ring and then smiles as he sees the seated figures of Creed and "The CEO". Watkins walks to the retaining barrier and does a little jawing at the silent Creed, seeming to refer to him as, "Pup the puppet."] TD: Mad Dog Watkins has one of the best records in the IIWF, Steve Roberts, but he had better leave this business outside the ring -- because inside the ring he's about to meet one of the toughest men you're ever gonna want to find in Brody Thunder. SR: Yeah, but even Thunder's not tough enough to battle the Syndicate, especially is he's gonna choose the girls from P.C. High to watch his back. SL: His opponent, accompanied to the ring by the former IIWF Heavyweight Champion, "The Outlaw" J.W. Hardin [Huge pop as the theme from "High Planes Drifter" begins] he weighs 267lbs and hails from "The Town Too Tough to Die" Tombstone, Arizona... Brody Thunder! [The big cowboys hit the aisle, clearly moving gingerly even as they stride to ringside. Thunder veers off when he sees that Creed is at ringside, but Hardin whispers something to him that brings about a cackle and then a step through the ropes.] TD: Looks like big Brody has a little hitch in his giddyup, Soundbite. I think you might be right about the wear and tear of that battle with the Syndicate. SR: Now you're talkin', Dross. Now, tell the people about my moonsault. [Thunder and Watkins circle each other slowly, as if each looking for the one fissure in the other that he can attack. They lock up. Thunder quickly applies a writslock that he converts into a hammerlock. Watkins reverses and applies an arm wringer. Step over. Another step over and Watkins increases the pressure on Thunder who tries a hiplock -- blocked. Watkins tries his own hiplock, Thunder blocks it and counters the arm hold with a standing switch into a headlock. Watkins slides out and bounces off the near ropes, Thunder slips a clothesline and executes a nifty drop toe hold, then follows up with two quick kneedrops. Thunder goes farside as Watkins sits up and then comes off the ropes with a neckbreaker that snaps Mad Dog back to the mat. Pop! Thunder then follows with three consecutive sharp elbows to the throat that leave Watkins writhing in pain. Big pop! Thunder then drops down to gouge the eyes of the prone Mad Dog.] TD: That's what makes Brody Thunder so dangerous, Steve Roberts, he can match you hold for hold and then instantly turn nasty on you. SR: I had someone turn nasty on me once, Dross. Best weekend of my life. [Thunder is altering between the eye gouge and a chinlock, taking a couple of chops from Watkins as he tries to fight his way to his feet, but then dishing out hard right hands that return Watkins to his place on his back. Thunder drags nods confidently as he delivers a stomp to the head and then drags Watkins to his knees and takes a shot to the groin from Watkins while momentarily distracted by Lau, who stands up and shouts at Hardin! Pop! Watkins grabs Thunder around the neck and rolls him up for a 1 - kickout. Watkins quickly brings Thunder to his feet while Lau goes to the side opposite Hardin. Watkins moves rapidly, sensing his chance to get back in the match. Mad Dog Irish whips Thunder, who ducks a clothesline and goes off the back ropes with a cross body... that Watkins turns into a huge spinebuster that rocks the IIWF Coliseum and brings his fans to their feet! Pop! Watkins covers 1 - 2 - NO! Kickout by Thunder.] TD: Just like that, Soundbite. Just like that, it all changes, now we'll see what kind of reserve these two men have. [It's the Mad Dog who is now locked onto the chin and neck of Thunder, cuffing the big cowboy with numerous forearms to the head whenever Thunder is able to break the hold. Watkins picks Thunder to his feet and whips him hard to the buckle. Thunder stumbles backward - and into a German suplex by Watkins who covers... 1 - 2 - kickout... and both men are quickly up, Thunder attempts a hard lariat which Watkins ducks and counters by lifting Thunder up and then down with an atomic drop that sends Thunder into the opposite buckle. Pop! Watkins charges - but is met with an elbow smash to the throat from the instinctive Thunder!] SR: Never charge the corner, especially with your dog neck! [Thunder is able to maintain a hand atop Watkins' head and hops to the midrope, looking to come down with a flying bulldog... but Watkins has hooked his legs into the ropes and it is Thunder whose head winds up smashing into the mat as he hurls himself to the canvas. Pop! Watkins then leaps to the midrope... and comes down with an elbow... onto the mat as Thunder just does roll out of the way! Pop! Thunder rolls under the ropes and goes outside to regroup.] TD: Well, this is what we thought we'd see, two of the absolute toughest guys in the IIWF, neither one givng an inch. SR: Yeah, well, neither one's given up any blood, either, Dross. I'm waitin' for the slobberin' to start. [Watkins joins Thunder outside and is immediately met with a boot to the midsection and a rapid series of clubbing forearms to the back of the neck. Watkins fires back with a chop to the throat, three quick reverse knife edge chops and two sharp European uppercuts that stagger Thunder. Brody doesn't take too many backsteps, however, landing back-to-back haymaker right hands that send Watkins to the apron. Thunder charges but is met with a knee lift and Watkins then quickly hurls Thunder head first into the steel steps. Pop! Mad Dog pounces, ramming Thunder's head again into the steps and then draping his left arm over those steps. Watkins is methodical now, calculating, as he works over the left arm, whipping it over the steps, dropping successive elbows onto the arm, finally moving to whip Thunder's arm to the ringpost... but instead hits the ringpost himself as Thunder reaches around, across his body with his free hand and hammers Watkins into the unforgiving steel. Pop! Thunder gamely hops back to the apron, grabbing Mad Dog's head once more -- and this time flies off with a bulldog that plants Watkins' head on the floor! Huge pop as Thunder rolls back in the ring, immediately garnering the attention of the official.] SR: Yeah, there it is, Dross. The proverbial bulldog of the Mad Dog -- I will never get tired of that. TD: Something's going on out here, Thunder's distracting the referee and... look at the Outlaw!! [On the outside, Hardin has grabbed the timekeeper's bell and stands poised above the head of Mad Dog. Hardin is set to bring it down... but is stopped from a pair of hands from behind...] TD: It's Creed! It's Creed! Creed has the bell. He's gonna hit him, Creed's gonna hit Watkins himself! [...Hardin smiles and backs away, motioning that Creed can take care of Watkins himself, many of the fans scream, "No, No" as Creed seems to hesitate.] SR: Come on kid, show some guts, what the hell -- use the bell! [Creed shakes his head and drops the bell to the ground, picking up Watkins and dumping him back in the ring. Creed returns to his seat and accepts pats on the back from the ringside fans as Hardin stares hard at him. From the other side, Brian Lau quietly disappears back up the aisle and Thunder resumes his work on Watkins. Thunder walks over to Watkins and shoves a boot into his face with disdain, motioning for him to rise. Watkins tries to crawl away but Thunder is there again, this time with hard bootts to the side and more sneering motions for Watkins to get to his feet. Now Thunder pulls Watkins up himself, and brings him back to the mat with a snap suplex and a cover...1-2-kickout! Thunder moves quickly, dropping four elbows to the inside of the left knee of Watkins, then ramming a knee to the groin. Thunder pulls Watkins up again... Mad Dog barely able to make it to his feet. Thunder hits him with two deliberate uppercuts and then brings him down with a neckbreaker and a cover... 1 - 2 - NO! Watkins kicks out again -- but can't escape the wrath of Thunder, who now drops four quick elbows to the inside of the right knee of Watkins and rams another knee to his groin. Then with a smile he grabs Watkins' legs.] TD: You know what he's doing, now it's clear what Brody Thunder is doing, he is softening up this Dog, he is gonna apply that figure four! SR: And Watkins is gonna submit, Dross. He's gonna quit right in the middle of the ring! He's gonna yell out, "You are the better man, Soundbite!" [Thunder attempts to hook up the figure four -- and does hook up the figure four! Big pop as Watkins now writhes in horrible pain, slapping the mat hard as he tries to break the hold, his shoulder drop to the mat... 1 - 2 - Up! Watkins tugs to the ropes... but his shoulders go down again... 1 - 2 - UP! Watkins now makes another push to the ropes, straining out now to reach the ropes, needing, aching to reach...] TD: He's got the ropes! Watkins broke the hold! [The official is able to get Watkins to break the hold and the two men exhaustedly stand again, fighting their way up the corner, they reach the midrope and Thunder fires with a big right hand. Watkins fires back as the crowd rises to its collective feet. Each man swinging wildly as one tries to get some type of advantage... and Watkins does with a suplex to the mat.] SR: NO! NO! [The official drops down near the corner where Watkins has Thunder covered.... 1 - 2 - NO! Hardin drapes Thunder's foot over the rope and the official stops the count, just a whisper before his hand was to smack the mat one last time. Watkins pick Thunder up and send him on an irish whip... reverse... duck under and a pass... another pass... and Thunder...] TD: NAILS HIM WITH A DDT! THUNDER WITH THE COVER! [...1 - 2 - 3! Ding! Ding! Ding!] SL: Your winner, as a result of a pinfall... Brody Thunder!! [Hardin grabs Thunder's arm and the two men quickly leave the ring the the hailstorm of cheers from their supporters.] SR: That ain't just a DDT, Dross. That's a Cattlebuster DDT that just planted that man into next week! I love... hey now, now maybe the kid's gonna show us something finally. Creed's gonna finish Thunder's job! [Creed has entered the ring and advances on Watkins, who now is on his knees, cursing at his sudden loss in the hard fought match. Creed walks to Watkins, the similarities in the two men striking, with only the years evident on Mad Dog's body providing a marked difference in physical structure. Creed's visage seems to almost soften momentarily and then he extends his right hand to the seated Mad Dog. Watkins swats it away. The crowd "ooooh"s as Creed stares hard at the hand just smacked by Watkins. Creed then shakes his head, his face immediately returning to the uncompromisingly hard form to which we are used -- and then turns away from Mad Dog. Mistake. Watkins, springs up as if revitalized by the encounter, leaps beyond Creed... grabs the younger man's head and snaps his neck hard over the top rope in a hot shot then sends Creed down to the mat. Big heel pop! Watkins jumps down to the floor, sticks a finger in Creed's face and yells, "Somebody shoulda taught you that one, pup!" and slowly backs up the aisle. "The CEO" hops immediately into the ring, attempting to revive his wrestler -- but Creed shoves him aside, attempting to charge the waiting Watkins. Security spills out into the aisle, more than a dozen men holding Creed back as he desperately claws, needing to get at Watkins who laughingly disappears into the back.] TD: Well, another wild scene here on IIWF Saturday Night, a dramatic victory by Brody Thunder, overcoming not only the talented Watkins but an earlier brawl with the Syndicate. SR: Yeah, and that idiot Creed got what was comin' to him. He had a chance to get rid of that Watkins once and for all -- and he didn't have the guts. TD: Well, again, I have a sense that there is something going on between those two men, Steve Roberts. And I also get the sense that when they finally meet in the ring -- it might blow the IIWF sky high. Fans, we are drawing closer and closer to the big event in Toronto, Ring Wars 3 -- call that local cable company today, don't wait until March 22nd to make that call. SR: You are shameless. TD: The only shame will be not making that all important phone call and missing out on that big double main event from Ring Wars 3. SR: Corporate shill. TD: Imagine going to work at your corporation Monday morning, March 24, and being the only guy at the office not to have seen that titanic struggle which features one of the men who is about to step into the ring tonight. SR: Yeah, Chrissy against Martina, I can't wait. TD: Yes sir, Ring... Martina? SR: Come on, Dross, follow along. Quigley is Chrissy, that makes Kauffman Martina. Don't you ever read a paper, Dross? TD: Apparently we're reading different sections, Steve. SR: Or maybe Kauffman's Janet. Janet and Chrissy. You could be Mr. Roper, Dross. TD: Before we go to ringside, let's go backstage to hear from "Quickstrike" Chris Quigley: [Camera cuts backstage to where Steve Summer is standing with a serious looking "Quickstrike" Chris Quigley. Quigley is wearing his usual wrestling attire, along with his silver shades, and black leather jacket, but instead of the usual design on the back of the jacket, this one features a lightning bolt striking a gravestone, as smoke rises from the charred rock.] SS: It's a real honour to be here interviewing you, Chris! [Quigley just nods slightly.] SS: Um... well, can I ask you what kind of strategy you will employ against the... just downright scary Deathbringer? [Quigley removes his shades and hangs them off the collar of his jacket.] CQ: There's where the problems start for every single one of Deathbringer's opponents! They show fear! They go into the match not knowing what to expect, and fearing the unknown! I've watched tape after tape after tape of Deathbringer's matches! I know _exactly_ what to expect! The mind games may change, but the style never does, and I've already proven his mind games don't bother me in the least! The only thing they accomplish is making me mad, and an angry Chris Quigley, is a _deadly_ Chris Quigley! SS: So you have his style all figured out? CQ: Deathbringer sticks to the basics of brawling! He's a powerful man! And there's no doubt that he has a very high resistance to pain, but that resistance ends at some point, and I'll find that point, I guarantee you that! He is a brawler, and that's all he is. I am the best technical wrestler in the IIWF by far, and there is no _way_ the dead man is going to get past me! Because he's not quick enough, he's not smart enough, and he's not good enough! Any questions? [With that Quigley slides his shades back on his face and walks away from the set, to prepare for his entrance...] SS: Chris Quigley is set on beating Deathbringer tonight! Will he succeed? I guess we'll find out soon enough! Back to you! [Cut back to ringside.] =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- "Quickstrike" Chris Quigley vs. Deathbringer -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= WRITER: JJ [Sparkplug Lee seems again to be speaking to intimate friends only he can see as he takes the mic...] SL: The following contest is set for one fall. Introducing first, from Cornerbrook, Newfoundland, Canada [Face pop as "For Those About To Rock" blares throughout the arena] he weighs 230lbs, here is "Quickstrike" Chris Quigley! [Quigley appears at the top of the aisle to loud applause from his fans and absentmindedly slaps the hands to the fans who line the aisle for him as he makes his way to the ring. He slips his sunglasses on the face of a grateful young fan and takes his place in the ring.] SL: His opponent [Screams as the lights drop and "The Reaper" by Grave Digger begins], hailing from The Dark Side and weighing 324lbs, here is... Deathbringer! [The big man begins his slow walk to the ring, his arm already outstretched in the direction of Quigley, a huge pop erupts as the 'Bringer hits the ring -- and runs his thumb across his throat.] TD: You can feel the electricity, Steve Roberts, I feel it -- I know this capacity crowd here at the IIWF Coliseum feels it. SR: And "Kick Me"'s about to feel it -- when the dead man's hand is wrapped around his throat -- and he's hurtling to the canvas. [Quigley and the Deathbringer are nose to nose, doing some serious pre-match jawing, Quigley appears to be the calmer, more focused of the two -- while Deathbringer is now getting agitated -- and he shoves Quigley to the mat with an open palm to the face. Pop! Quigley hops up immediately and returns to the 'Bringer's face -- now it's Quigley who's doing the talking, Quigley who is trashtalking the... and Quigley goes down again with another hard palm to the face! Pop! Quigley leaps to his feet and charges, meeting the Deathbringer with an amazingly furious series of right hands, big right hands that rock the Deathbringer to the roar of Quigley's supporters. Fifteen consecutive Quigley shots to the head of the big man and the 'Bringer is... NO!... Deathbringer now fires back with but one huge left hand and Quigley is once again on his back. Pop!] TD: That man is so strong, Steve Roberts. Quickstrike obviously came out here to prove something, to prove that he could take this fight right to the Deathbringer and he's flat on the mat. SR: Of course he is, Dross. Chris Quigley thinks there are two sets of rules, one for him and one for the people he "allows" to be in his presence. The guy makes me... hey [big heel pop at ringside] looks like there's someone else who wants to say something to "Kick Me". TD: Here comes "The Butcher"! [As Deathbringer applies a reverse chinlock, the buzz increases as Otto Verhoeven comes down to ringside, walks directly to the young fan so fortunate to receive the earlier gift from Quickstrike -- and he rips the sunglasses off her face and breaks them in half! Big heel pop!] TD: He did it again, Soundbite! Remember, that's how it all started between these two men, Otto Verhoeven breaking one of those rare signature sunglasses from the face of a Chris Quigley fan. Outrageous. SR: Hah! You know you love the German man, Dross! Let me hear you say, "I love the German man!" [Quigley scrambles to get at Verhoeven, but is unable to break the hold, the Deathbringer increasing the pressure on Quigley with well placed knees to the lower back. The fans begin to clap for Quigley as he fights, fights, fights out of the hold, making his way to a hard earned vertical base and breaking away with three quick rams to the midsection, Quigley bounces off the near ropes - and is met with a hard clothesline from the 'Bringer that causes Quickstrike to do a 360 degree mid air flip and fall crashing to the mat! Pop! Deathbringer covers... 1 - 2 - kickout. Quigley is really hearing it from Verhoeven at ringside, The Butcher is laughing snidely at Quickstrike's predicament, even dropping himself to the floor in a mimic of Quigley's huge fall. Deathbringer returns to the chinlock, this time abandoning it quickly in favor of an obvious chokehold which brings a signal to break from the official. Deathbringer then brings Quigley to his feet and into an Irish whip, Quigley ducks a clothesline and passes once, Quigley ducks a big boot and passes again - - and Quigley this time springs off the back ropes with a flying forearm that takes the big man off his feet. Pop! Quigley now rams Deathbringer's head hard into the canvas, two - three - four times. Pop! And then delivers a boot to the face for good measure. Pop! Quigley then runs to the ropes outside of which stands Verhoeven and feigns a plancha that sends Verhoeven backstepping! Pop! Quigley turns around -- but right into the arms of the Deathbringer who executes a belly-to-belly suplex that leaves Quigley on the mat and the crowd gasping. Cover - 1 - 2 - NO!] SR: Hah! Look at that idiot, how many times do I have to tell you, never charge the Butcher -- especially if you're Quigley. TD: Well, it does look like Verhoeven accomplished his goal -- he's heading for higher ground. [The Butcher gives Quigley a derisive wave as he heads back up the aisle, disappearing from view. Deathbringer returns to the reverse chinlock once more, but now he punctuates it with a series of crippling forearms to the back that leave Quigley in a heap. 'Bringer scoops up Quigley -- and plants him in the middle of the ring with a running powerslam that seemed to take the air not only out of the ring - but of the entire IIWF Coliseum. Cover 1 - 2 - NO! Quigley is just able to get a shoulder up. Deathbringer scoops him up again, whips Quigley farside and into a _big_ boot that sends Quickstrike down like a shot to the canvas and a cover - 1 - 2 - NO!] TD: Like him or not, how many men in this sport are as resilient as "Quickstrike" Chris Quigley? He refuses, he refuses to lose to this man. [Deathbringer drops two long, slow elbows to the throat of Quigley and goes back to the chokehold before hooking a leg... 1 - 2 - NO! Quigley gets a shoulder up! Deathbringer smacks the mat and then smacks Quigley -- delivering three knife edge chops to the throat as he repositions Quickstrike to his feet. Deathbringer whips Quigley again, this time Quigley is able to baseball slide between the big man's legs and hop to greet him with a thrust kick... NO... Deathbringer catches Quigley's boot, wrings the leg of Quigley, spins him around into an enormous atomic drop that sends Quickstrike hard into the corner. Pop! Deathbringer charges -- and is hit with a crescent kick that sends him staggering! Quigley now hops to the top rope and comes down...] TD: Into a sleeperhold! Chris Quigley has the Deathbringer in a sleeperhold! SR: That's a blatant chokehold! Come on ref! Whatever happened to sportsmanship? [Quigley is up on Deathbringer's back, his own feet dangling from the ground, his face showing the strain as he desperately tries something, anything that might turn the tide his way. Deathbringer struggles -- but can't break the hold! Deathbringer now careens around the ring, feverishly searching for some way, any way to break the hold, to escape the arms that are slowly sending him... Deathbringer lurches - hops off the back rope and begins running, running with his every strength, running to the ropes, and he HURLS himself over the top rope and onto the floor below! Absolutely astonished pop!] TD: What?! Did we just -- Deathbringer has sent himself and Chris Quigley flying out over the top rope and onto the floor! SR: Oh, Quigley is hurt -- Quigley is hurt bad, Dross. He took the brunt of that fall -- that big 300lbs-plus monster just crashed down on top of him. Oh, yeah, Martina's gonna have to get someone else to play with at Ring Wars -- Chrissy's gonna be otherwise occupied. [Both men are down, the Deathbringer having actually sent himself and the man draped on his back over the top rope, over the apron, and to the floor below, the Deathbringer landing hard, but Quigley even harder as much of the Deathbringer's weight shifted atop Quickstrike. Now the official's count begins: 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - And the Deathbringer bolts up! The Deathbringer is amazingly up to a huge roar of approval from the Soldiers of Hell, he reaches into the ring to break the count and advances over the fallen Quigley. He stands once more and raises his arm to the air -- and his thumb to his throat!} SR: Somebody tell Steffi to warm up, Chrissy's going to the hospital! [Deathbringer scoops Quigley up, turns him around to face a particularly rabid section of young Quickstrike supporters... and tombstones him to the floor! Pop!] SR: Over, over, over, over, over! [Quigley has yet to move at all following the Deathbringer's plancha, and now has his freshly tombstoned body lifted high in the air for a gorilla press by the Deathbringer... and thrown over the top rope and back into the ring!] TD: I do not recall ever seeing Chris Quigley in this state before, he is, well, he is just flat out cold. SR: Where it's cold are those hospital rooms in Newfoundland, Dross. Lonely, anteseptic hospital rooms. Maybe Quigley will find a nice candy striper to give his sunglasses to. [Deathbringer steps over the top rope and advances on Quigley, he scoops him upon his shoulder and carries him to the corner. Deathbringer then climbs the ropes...] TD: He's going up, Deathbringer is going up for the Burial! How much pain does he need to inflict? What is going through this man's mind? [Deathbringer makes the slow, arduous climb to the top rope, carrying the body of Quigley atop his shoulder. Deathbringer reaches the summit, positions himself high in the air.. and comes down... AND IS BROUGHT DOWN... Quigley executes a head scissors takeover out of the Burial piledriver that sends Deathbringer snapping to the mat! Big pop! Quigley staggers to his feet, his hair matted down, the pain evident in his face as he climbs the ropes, heading for the the top. Deathbringer sits up again, rising to his feet as Quigley comes down with a Lightning Strike, ramming his fist into the Deathbringer's face! Pop!] TD: He can't make the cover, Steve! He can't hook the Deathbringer's leg and make a cover. [Quigley again stumbles to his feet, only the need to win propelling him further, Quigley moves to Deathbringer and drops two, three, four, five elbows to the big man's knee. Deathbringer sits up. Quigley charges madly now, tearing at the Deathbringer with left and right hands, pounding the dead man into the mat, driving his head deep, deep into the canvas. Deathbringer sits up. Deathbringer stands up. Quigley's anger seems to fuel him as he clotheslines the big man to the mat not once but twice -- and then adds insult to injury with a hard knee to the "lower midsection". Deathbringer sits up. Deathbringer stands up. Quigley Irish whips the Deathbringer, who reverses, Quigley sunset flips... and is stopped from making a cover by the 'Bringer who moves down to punch him... but misses the escaping Quigley who rolls between Deathbringer's legs, hops to his feet -- and meets a revolving Deathbringer with a snapping ezuigiri, that drops the dead man to the mat! Huge pop!] TD: He's gonna cover him... NO!... he's gonna go for the Quickstriker! SR: No way, no way he can get that monster in the Quickstriker... Oh no! [Huge pop as Quigley locks on his submission hold, cinching it in as his fans cheer him on. The official looks to the Deathbringer and hears no response, Quigley's face now contorting, his every effort seeming to bring him pain as he struggles to get the Deathbringer to submit. The crowd is absolutely shocked as the Deathbringer remains locked firmly in place, right in the middle of the ring, having not made a single movement, seemingly no effort at all to break the submission hold. Quigley lets out a yell the likes of which are heard only on the darkest battlefield night as he cinches again on his Quickstriker and the official looks toward... And then it was over. Ding! Ding! Ding!] TD: He quit! He quit! The Deathbringer submitted to Chris Quigley! SR: NO! NO! NO! [Quigley releases the Quickstriker and rolls onto his back, trying to get even a modicum of air into his lungs as the crowd awaits the official decision:] SL: Ladies and gentlemen, the official has ruled this bout... a time limit draw! A draw! [Loud boos from the fans who begin throwing all manner of debris in the direction of Sparkplug Lee, Quigley is absolutely incredulous, now shoving at the official and pointing at the still prone Deathbringer... who sits up. Quigley charges and the Deathbringer meets him, the two brawl again -- right in the center of the ring -- furious rights and lefts and a boot by Deathbringer, doubling Quigley over and...] TD: CHOKESLAM! SR: These guys are wearing me out, Dross. [Deathbringer chokeslams Quigley to the mat and stands atop him again, but only for a brief moment before exiting the ring. Quigley remains on the mat until numerous IIWF officials and medical personnel make their way from the back. Chris Quigley, however, refuses all medical aid and brusquely exits the ring.] TD: I just don't know, Steve Roberts. Chris Quigley gave one of the gamest performances ever seen in this arena and had the Deathbringer locked up in the middle of the ring -- only to have it taken away from him by a time limit draw. That is not right. SR: You want to talk about not right? Deathbringer was in that Quickstriker for damn near two minutes and didn't submit. If Quigley can't beat him with that -- he ain't never gonna beat him. TD: Wow. What a match. In just a few moments, we'll be seeing another incredible encounter as IIWF World Heavyweight Champion Casey James makes the first defence of his title against... Hold on. [There is a cheer from the entry acrh as Billy Shakespeare unexpectedly comes ringside.] TD: This is a surprise. SR: He probably got lost on the way to the ladies room. [Shakespeare approaches the announcers' table, hi-fiving the fans around ringside.] BS: Hi Steve, how's your mom? [Billy takes a microphone and steps into the ring.] BS: Thanks be to you, Tim. I'm here to announce the grand opening of one of Shakespeare's greatest shows. True to the Bard, this production contains action, intrigue, the good guy winning in the end... and revenge. I call it "Billy Shakespeare cleans up the loose ends". Let's meet the cast of characters: it stars, of course, myself as the triumphant hero. The villans, in order of importance: Spur - you got my attention with that belt trick; Randy Acorn - the man who took my Cruiserweight belt; Stud Stetson - as ye bat, so shall ye reap; Brody Thunder - The turncoat bodyguard. But the man I want in the ring most, more than any of these other knaves, is: Steve "The Fury" Kowalski. You robbed me of the Intercontinental belt. Each braggart will, in his own time, wilt under the footlights and... [At this point Brody Thunder strolls down the aisle with a concerned look on his face. Big heel pop.] TD: [over the headset] Not again, Steve! I can't believe this! Brody Thunder just can't stay out of trouble tonight! SR: When you're as tough as Thunder, Dross, you don't have to stay out of trouble. [He climbs the ringsteps and enters the ring. He walks to the center of the ring, grabs the ring mic and addresses Billy Shakespeare.] BT: Shakespeare... shad-dup. I'm sick o' hearin' that whiny mouth o' yers tellin' the world how tough you got it. Yer just a crybaby plain an' simple. So ya put together a hit list, huh Billy-boy? Let's see... Spur. Acorn. Stetson. Three guys who ya might beat on a good day. Me... an' Stevie Kowalski. THAT's where I got a problem, son. I guess ya musta been hurt wors'n I thought when I set that table with yer skull, huh? 'Cuz there ain't no earthly reason why ol' "Cussin'" Kowalski should be ranked above the Lone Wolf, on ANY list. So I'm here to get things straight. I ain't been number two at anythin' I've ever done an' that ain't about to change, amigo. So ya ain't gotta worry 'bout facin' "the Flurrie" cuz yer gonna face me first. You just don't realize it yet. I got in my hands a contract with my name on it to face you. All you gotta do is find the guts to sign it. One match. One fall to a finish. One chance to show me yer the better man. I don't think ya are an' I'm willin' to prove it. Are you? [IIWF officials start to enter into the ring fearing the worst. Billy steps in close, the mic picking up his words.] BS: Your tale, sir, would cure deafness. Remember: "In time we hate that which we fear." And you don't seem to like me much. Bring it on, K-mart cowboy. [Brody grabs the mic again...] BT: Well, when we step into the ring the next time ya ain't gonna get off with a slight concussion, Billy-boy... no, no. Next time yer takin' the scenic trip to the morgue. If ya think fer one moment that I'm kiddin' then take another look. Ya were a loser when I fought ya. Ya were a loser even when I tried to help ya. An' yer about to become a loser again cuz you _will_ be facin' me before the rest o' them clowns. But just in case ya didn't get my point the last time we "spoke", son... let me make it perfectly clear... [Thunder slaps Shakespeare across the face... hard. Shakespeare reels back but quickly regains his composure and tries to get at Thunder. Thunder quickly slides out of the ring and backs up the aisle, laughing and pointing at Shakespeare being held back by the officials. Shakespeare climbs the turnbuckle, but eventually leaves the ring and exits. An official quickly clears the ring of the microphone. The Jobber Justice Squad appears, but too late.] TD: Things are completely out of control here tonight, Steve Roberts! SR: Just the way I like it, Dross -- especially when Pukespeare gets an unscheduled butt-kicking. TD: Shakespeare and Thunder will lock it up very soon -- but for now, we must move on to our next match here tonight. I'm still reeling -- another absolutely wild night here in the IIWF. The U.S. Tag Tournament, the Syndicate, Brody Thunder, the scene between Mad Dog Watkins and Creed, and then the Deathbringer and Chris Quigley. Unbelievable. SR: Talk about unbelievable, what a night I had last night, Dross. Happy Valentine's Day to me! TD: All right, I'll bite. So, Steve, what did you do last night? SR: Oh you know, not much. Hung out with the boys. TD: The boys? SR: Yeah, you know Dross, the boys. My pals. My amigos. My posse. My homeys. The boyz. TD: The boyz?! SR: Yessuh, me and the boyz, we make noize, a lotta suckas think that we're toyz. TD: No more Dirt Dog matches for you, Steve. SR: I'm a crazee muh-fuh. Yah! TD: Let's get down to ringside. =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- IIWF WORLD HEAVYWEIGHT CHAMPIONSHIP MATCH: -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Casey "Blackheart" James [c] vs. Dirt Dog Unique Allah ------------------------------------------------------ WRITER: JJ [Sparkplug Lee seems to be waxing nostalgic about the "ring girl who got away", then with his right hand he takes the mic...] SL: Ladies and gentemen, the following contest is set for one fall and is for the IIWF Heavyweight Championship of the World! [Pop!] Introducing first the challenger, at a weight of 238lbs, from Brooklyn, New York... Dirt Dog Unique Allah! [Dirt Dog enters alone to "Snakes", he's crawling down the aisle on all fours, customary bottle in his hand. He is sobbing and mumbling incoherently about being all alone in the world, just like Willis from Diff'rent Strokes.] SR: Damn, this guy gets more and more pathetic every week, Dross. Good thing we won't have to see him anymore. TD: And why is that, Soundbite? SR: Take a look at the size of the guy he's getting in the ring with. Better yet, take a look at the size of the metal he's sporting around his waist. SL: His opponent, [Heel pop as "Foul Taste of Freedom" begins] accompanied to the ring by Brian Lau, he weighs 340lbs and hails from Washington D.C., he is the IIWF Heavyweight Champion -- Casey "Blackheart" James!! [The enormous James stands at the top of the aisle, arms extended to embrace the torrent of boos that cascade upon he and Lau. There is a larger than normal grin on James' face as he hits the ring, holding up the IIWF championship belt for all to see.] SR: That's the man, morons. Right there. You can boo all you want, but we are witnessing the Age of The Syndicate here in the IIWF. I think it's great! TD: So much for objectivity, Steve. SR: I'll go back to talking like Dirt Dog if you want. TD: Give me a second on that one. [Unique stumbles wildly around the ring, drawing laughter from James and Lau as they enjoy the antics. Dirt Dog then charges james wildly with a shoulderblock -- no effect. Well, none on the champion, but Dirt Dog falls like a shot to the mat and the crawls back to the corner. Dirt Dog lets out a belch -- and charges again -- and again runs smack into the mountainous James and again falls to the canvas.] SR: Check, please! [Dirt Dog charges a third time, but this time is caught by James, who pivots and whips him hard nearside, Unique ducks the return clothesline and fells the big man with a nifty drop toe hold that brings a surprise pop from his fans. Unique moves quickly while on the mat, putting a Japanese armbar on James and then maneuvering down for a modified grapevine, putting as much pressure on those tree trunk legs of James as he is physically able.] TD: Dirt Dog's done it again, Steve Roberts. Over the past few weeks we have seen him continually lull opponents into a sense of security and then surprise them with his crisp, technical moves. Look right now, as he navigates from the legs, to the arm, to the neck area with his half-crab. It's this kind of focus that he used to beat... well, speak of the devil, here comes Joe Petrow! [Petrow makes his way down the aisle, shouting insults at Unique. Petrow is wearing ripped blue jeans and an IIWF t-shirt and immediately walks over to Brian Lau. Petrow whispers something to him which draws a smile and a wave from the head of the Syndicate.] SR: I think we're seeing it, Dross. All the scouting that Brian Lau has been doing: Annis, Creed, Watkins -- I think we have a winner. TD: I don't know if I'd put it that way, but you may be right, Petrow's hopping up to the apron and really giving it to Dirt Dog! [Unique has blocked out Petrow, under the circumstances, maintaining his continuous holds on James -- but Petrow makes a comment about "putting Medusa back in the hospital" and Dirt Dog goes bezerk, hopping from James and running at Petrow -- who jumps from the apron -- allowing James to catch Unique in the back of the neck with a hard running lariat. Pop! Unique falls hard against the ropes, but not to the mat as he is flung by James into the nearest corner, smacking against the turnbuckle. James then goes to work, pummeling the much smaller man with right hands and knee lifts, sending Dirt Dog into a crumpled heap in the corner. James stomps Unique to the head for good measure, then scoops him up and performs a running powerslam in the middle of the ring that brings a loud heel pop and a cover... 1 - 2 - No. Unique is able to get a shoulder up and then is able to roll James into a small package when he bends down to cover him again... 1 - 2 - kickout.] TD: There you see again what Dirt Dog can do, Casey James got a little lazy with that second pinfall attempt and he almost lost his belt. SR: Please, Dross. "Blackheart" is beating the stuffing out of this guy, and it's only gonna get worse. [James seems a little embarrassed at the nearfall and furiously stomps at the head and neck of the prone Unique. James drops down to choke Allah out -- and when the hold is broken drops a huge elbow to the throat. Pop! James stands again, now slowing the assault and drops another elbow. Pop! James rises once more, holding up three fingers and moves to drop a big, third elbow... but Unique rolls out of the way, hopping to his feet as James comes crashing... NO!... James stops his momentum before dropping the elbow and as Allah turns around, he throws a big clothesline... which Dirt Dog slips!... and counter with a reverse crescent kick to the butt of the champion's jaw and a cover... 1 - 2 - kickout! Big Pop!] TD: My goodness, Steve Roberts, every time it looks as if Casey James will seize control, there is Dirt Dog Unique Allah to one-up the champion. SR: Matter of time, Dross. Matter of time. [Unique remains on the mat, returning to the three alternate hold which he used so successfully earlier; the Japanese armbar, the modified grapevine and then the half-crab, quickly moving from hold to hold, not allowing James to utilize his superior size and strength. But again, the presence of Joe Petrow is too much for Unique, this time, "Sychosys" hops to the apron and begins howling Medusa's name. Again drawing the ire of the slightly overprotective Unique, who again finds his ardor not to be fruitful as Petrow leaps to the floor, Unique swing hit nothing but air -- and James is up with a double axe and then a corner whip. Unique is, however, able to gather his momentum and springboard off the mid-buckle for a cross-body flying forearm -- that Casey James catches! Pop! James brings Unique down with two hard backbreakers and then a cover... 1 - 2 - No! James moves up again for a backbreaker, but Unique counters with a head scissors takeover and a... 1 - kickout!] TD: Casey James has got to be frustrated now, Steve Roberts, physically the champ is dominating this matchup and mentally Dirt Dog seems completely psyched out by Joe Petrow, but somehow -- someway -- Dirt Dog keeps staying in this match. [The frustration now does begin to manifest itself, James pulls Dirt Dog to his feet and lands two stiff European uppercuts before Irish whipping Unique into a hard lariat and a cover... 1 - 2 - No. Shoulder up. James whips Unique again, he ducks under and they pass again, but this time James catches Unique in a vertical suplex, in which he seems to keep Allah airborne for minutes before bringing him down hard and moving to cover... or rather, moving to pose for the heel popping fans... and then a cover... 1 - 2 - NO!] TD: Too much wasted time, Steve Roberts. The longer this match goes the better the chance for Unique. SR: The longer this match goes the better the chance Unique will never sire puppies, Dross. This dog's tail is getting kicked. [James sends a hard right hand to the face and picks up Unique one more time, sending him again to the buckle, Unique again is able to collect himself and go to the mid-buckle and this time comes down hard on James with a somersault clothesline and a cover...1 - kickout. Surprised pop! James has, however, kicked out strongly and picks Dirt Dog from the mat and into a corner whip - and into the official!] TD: Referee down! The official is down! [Unique pauses over the official, but James does not hesitiate and crashes into Unique with a forearm that sends him hard into the buckle. James pushes the referee aside and cross-corner whips Unique and charges... and hits Allah with a massive clothesline! Pop!] TD: Company! Here comes Medusa Rage! [James pays no attention to the onrushing Rage, instead maneuvering Unique out into the ring for another backbreaker and then an Irish whip...] TD: She's up on the apron! [... they pass once but then Allah somehow is able to leap up for a dramatic hurricarana and a face pop that is immediately aborted because as Unique reaches the champion's neck -- the powerful James is able to stop his rotation and...] TD: What's Medusa doing?! Oh my! [...James maneuvers Dirt Dog from his neck and into position for a tombstone piledriver but is then frozen dead -- transfixed by the sight on the apron -- yes, Medusa has dropped her dress -- leading to perhaps the loudest pop in IIWF history!] SR: Happy Valentine's Day for the Soundbite! [Joe Petrow immediately hops in the ring, takes advantage of the chaos by tapping his boot twice on the ground... James hears him, whirls, with Unique still in tombstone position, and gets hit on the butt of the jaw with a superkick!] TD: Sycokick! Sycokick! SR: He hit him with a loaded boot -- Allah's got James covered! [Petrow rolls Unique atop James, gives Brian Lau a wink and then leaves the ring and heads up the aisle.] TD: 1 - 2 - 3! SR: No referee, Dross. He's still down! [Medusa returns her dress to it's upright and locked position and attempts to go into the ring -- but is grabbed from behind by Lau -- who she shoves down to the mat!] TD: 7 - 8 - 9... [Medusa moves to revive the official who now warily shakes the cobwebs from his head and turns around...] TD: 13 - 14 - OH NO! SR: YES! YES! [...but not in time to see Brian Lau waffle Unique with a chair and drape James' arm over top the official moves into position... 1 - 2 - 3! Ding! Ding! Ding!] SL: Your winner, as a result of a pinfall... and STILL the IIWF Heavyweight Champion... Casey "Blackheart" James! [Lau grabs the belt and tries to revive his man as Petrow sprints, upon hearing the decison, back into the ring -- and dives right after the still fallen Allah! Petrow is all over Allah with a series of rights and lefts, the two tumbling out of the ring and now brawling up the aisle, followed by Rage. James rises to hold his championship belt aloft -- offering only the slightest of grins at his heel pop. Lau and James leave the ring, the champ holding his jaw as they exit.] TD: I don't know quite what to say, Steve Roberts. I've never seen anything quite like that. SR: I sure have, Dross. That's why you have to go out with me and the boyz. Look, all you have to say is Casey "Blackheart" James, the winner and still heavyweight champion of the world! TD: That was quite a brawl right there... Hang on, Steve Kowalski is coming down the aisle. What does the Fury want? SR: Anything the Fury wants, the Fury takes, Dross! [Steve Kowalski enters the ring to a big heel pop and grabs a microphone. He walks around the ring, flipping off the fans, before yelling at the crowd to shut up. He raises his microphone:] SK: Can we get a round of applause for a fine ass kickin' by Casey James?! A true fightin' champ! Now onto to other biz! SANDMAN... you ugly bastard! TD: [over the headset] Fans, I apologise for the foul language of the Fury... SK: COME OUT HERE AND GET SOME! 'Cause I'm not waitin' for Spreadbury to make the match! Let's see what you're made of... PUNK! [The Fury begins pacing the ring again, until he notices a disturbance in the crowd at a concessions stand. A figure has approached the stand, and is now tearing away at it, trying to knock it over, tearing and ripping any merchandise emblazoned either with Marty Warnett's image, or Kowalski's image.] TD: It's the Sandman! He's tearing up that concessions stand! SR: If he wants Warnett's belt bad, or if he wants Kowalski bad, why the hell isn't he down here in the ring tearing strips off Kowalski, and not off Kowalski t-shirts?! [Kowalski raises the microphone once more:] SK: Yeah, how tough do you look, Sandcastle?! Tear up the merchandise like a girl, punk, but ya know that if ya come down here, you're gonna get your tail kicked clear out of the arena. What are ya made of, Sandcastle?! [The Sandman takes off through the crowd towards the ring, and Kowalski also throws down his microphone, vaults out of the ring, over the crowd barriers, and the two men charge one another in the aisle half-way up the Coliseum seating as the crowd scatter. Huge pop as the Fury and the Sandman collide in a flurry of fists and feet in the aisle.] TD: Whoa! Get some help out here fast! Look at those two go at it! SR: Go, Fury! Yeah! TD: Here comes security! [A large contingent of security personnel storm the stands where Kowalski and the Fury continue to brawl, and work on separating the two wrestlers. Cut back to the announcers' table.] TD: I think security have this situation under control... Right now, let's go backstage to Larry Morton, who is once again with the IIWF President. [Cut to backstage. Larry Morton stands with the IIWF President in a corridor.] LM: Thanks, Tim. I'm here once more with the IIWF President, Mr. Daniel Spreadbury. Mr. President, thankyou for taking the time out of your busy schedule to speak with us here tonight. DS: No problem, Larry. As it happens, I have some very important announcements to make. Firstly, I can report that the IIWF has reached a talent-exchange deal with another promotion, known as ESWP. A press conference was held by the President of that organisation, Mr. David Lawson, earlier this morning. Can we show that footage? LM: Of course. Roll it. guys. [Cut to footage subtitled, "Earlier Today." Inside the ballroom of the Ramada Inn in Rosemont, Illinois. The banner of the Electronic Shoot Wrestling Promotion is shown on the far wall. Reporters are gathered around a podium. ESWP President David Lawson makes his way to the podium and addresses the press.] LAWSON: Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for joing me so early on a Saturday Morning. I am here to annonunce the lineup for ESWP's What The World Is Watching III, which will be held on March 29 from the San Jose Arena. The lineup will be as follows: [Edit cut to later in the conference.] Now ladies and gentlemen, I am pleased to announce the next five matches, which are of the greatest importance. The ESWP is pleased to announce that it has reached an agreement with the International Internet Wrestling Federation. This agreement allows us to sign interfederational matches between the two organizations in the spirit of sportsmanship and competition. The first of these matches will be at What The World Is Watching III, when ESWP European Champion "The Spartan" Troy Walters will defend his title against IIWF superstar Lord Byron. [There is a large murmur from the crowd. Cut back to Morton and the IIWF President.] LM: That's very exciting news, Mr. President. DS: Indeed it is, Larry. The ESWP is a highly-respected organisation, and I look forward to enjoying continued close relations with their administration and talent. I might add that should Lord Byron capture the IIWF Intercontinental Championship from Marty Warnett in their match at Ring Wars III on March 22, that title will also be on the line in Byron's ESWP match with Troy Walters. LM: So we could see Champion vs. Champion! DS: Absolutely. And with regard to Ring Wars III, it's my pleasure to add a further two matches to the lineup. As you saw earlier tonight, "Lone Wolf" Brody Thunder has a contract waiting for Billy Shakespeare's signature. Should Billy sign on the dotted line, that match will take place in the Toronto Skydome at Ring Wars III, and I don't doubt that Shakespeare, being the competitor that he is, will indeed step up to face Thunder. That promises to be a tremendous match. LM: What about Stud Stetson's request to face Billy Shakespeare in a Tragic Ending Match? DS: It was felt by the IIWF's booking committee that at the present time, "Superstar" Stud Stetson has lost much of his billing. The committee expect him to put on some impressive displays in the next few weeks to convince them that he is worthy of high-profile, big-money pay-per-view matches. LM: That's fair enough, I suppose. DS: The other match I am able to announce tonight is a very special encounter -- dubbed a "Dead Man Rising" Four Corners match, it will pit four of the IIWF's most monstrous and powerful competitors against one another in a wild, elimination-style brawl. Serge Annis, Requiem, Highwayman, and the Deathbringer will each take a corner of the ring, and the last man standing will be declared the winner! LM: Wow! That's a whole lot of mean muscle in the ring at once. DS: It certainly is, Larry. Negotiations are also well-advanced to add a special "Wild Card" eight-man tag team match to the Ring Wars III card, and I should be able to announce the participants next weekend, but for... Hey! [The Sandman bursts into the shot, his mask half pulled over his face, exposing his mouth. He is breathing heavily, and his skin shows the mottled colouration of a heavy beating. He grabs Morton's arm, and yells into the microphone:] SM: [catching his breath] You try to get people's attention.. but often they don't listen. I've noticed that after you hit them in the head with a chair you suddenly have their undivided attention. Warnett! You have something I want, but at Ring Wars III you seem to have your hands full [pauses to collect a thought] so next Saturday I'm going to challenge Steve "the fury" Kowalski to prove I'm the number one contender for that title! Spreadbury, I want you to sign that match! Sign it, man! Fury, you think you were robbed? I'll prove that you weren't, and then I'll show the IIWF why I'm the true champion! [He lets go of the microphone, and leaves the shot, shoving the President as he goes. Spreadbury straightens his tie and gives Larry an wry grin.] LM: I'm terribly sorry about that interruption, Mr. President. DS: That's quite alright, Larry. I'm growing used to that kind of thing in my duties as interim head of the Special Concerns Committee. The Sandman can have his match with Kowalski next Saturday Night. I've also sanctioned a triangle match for the warring parties of the cowboys, "Outlaw" J.W. Hardin and Brody Thunder, the Players' Club, and the Syndicate. Each party will send one man into this three-way dance, and we'll have this matter settled where it should be settled -- in the ring, not in the locker rooms or in the parking lot. LM: It seems that the lunatics are running the asylum again. DS: It has always been thus, Larry, and thus it shall always be. I'll just try to keep some kind of order in the ranks and ensure that the fans not only see a show that they will never forget, but enjoy it in safety. I continue to be worried by the continual brawls and attacks in and around the ringside area, and even, as we just saw, in the stands, and the new IIWF Disciplinary Committee takes a very dim view of such incursions. There will be levies made, both financial and otherwise, for wrestlers who continue to flout the regulations in this manner. LM: Mr. President, thanks for your time. DS: No problem, Larry. LM: Back to you at ringside, Tim and Steve. [Cut back to ringside.] TD: Thanks, Larry. Wow, a working agreement with ESWP, and more matches added to the card for Ring Wars III -- nothing stays still here in the IIWF! SR: We're happenin', there ain't no doubt. TD: I beg your pardon? SR: Sorry, Dross. I heard that somewhere... TD: Okay, folks, it's time for tonight's main event. Two of the most popular athletes in IIWF history are about to lock up for the first, and probably the last, time. Both men are former IIWF World Heavyweight Champions, both men have been to the zenith and the nadir of their fortunes, and both men are tremendous athletes. SR: Stop building these two morons up, Dross. TD: Both the Subway Psycho and Dan Kauffman are a phenomenal competitors, Steve. I'm expecting great things from this match -- which man will turn around his recent turn of bad luck? SR: Not me, that's for sure. I have to watch these two inbreds slap each other around all night like a couple of big girls. TD: Let's get up to the ring. =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- Subway Psycho vs. Dan "Flash" Kauffman -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= WRITER: DK ["Crazy Train" starts playing at a fever pitch, and rockets shoot upward to the ceiling of the Coliseum as the Subway Psycho emerges to a tremendous crowd pop! The Psycho is intense, hi-fiving the masses of fans who crowd the barrier running to the ring! The Psycho salutes the crowd before climbing the ring steps and entering the ring.] SL: Ladies and gentlemen, it's time for tonight's main event! The following contest is set for one fall. Introducing first, from New York City, weighing 255 pounds, here is the SUBWAY PSYCHO! TD: The Psycho has arrived here in Portland, and I can barely hear myself think, it's so loud in here! SR: These morons know nothing, Dross. They don't even know that they're making every single one of us deaf right this very moment! Besides, why waste your breath cheering for that sewer-rat? TD: It's the Psycho, Steve! He's _not_ a sewer-rat! SR: Great, now the rat's going to try and speak. Does that inbred even know what a microphone is? [The Psycho, through all the cheers, speaks towards the head of the aisle as the fans start to settle down.] SP: You've been a different man the last month or so, Kauffman. If you're here as that man, the man who's given up, you might as well not even wrestle tonight. I want the Kauffman who took three Cattlebusters from Hardin... and came back, the man who took everything Deathbringer could dish out... and didn't flinch, the man who won the IIWF World Title... and wore it longer than anyone else. I want the Dan Kauffman I respected. So come on now, Danny boy, I was to see the fire that made the "Flash." I want everything you got, because I'm sure as hell not going to hold anything back. [The Psycho fires the mic out of the ring, and awaits Kauffman as "Black Cat" starts to play. Fans recognise the old tune, and start cheering again. The Psycho is very focused.] TD: I believe the Psycho is going to get his wish here, Steve. SR: [sarcastic] Wonderful. Truly fantastic... SL: And his opponent, from Hagerstown, Maryland, weighing 230 pounds, this is Dan "Flash" Kauffman! [The lights dim to a deep blue, and spotlights pick out the form of Kauffman walking down the aisleway focused on the Psycho! The crowd cheers a little stronger than they did last week, but the reception is still nowhere close to the one the Psycho received. Nonetheless, Kauffman points at the Psycho, nods, then makes a circuit of ringside. One of Joe Petrow's fanatical supporters, christened the Sychopaths, squirts Kauffman in the face once more with his soda. Pop!] SR: Yeah! Direct hit! TD: Something ought to be done about those so-called Sychopaths. SR: Yeah, give them a medal! [Kauffman wipes the soda out of his face, flicks it back at the fan who squirted him, and climbs into the ring himself, looking the Psycho eye-to-eye.] TD: And indeed, the Subway Psycho has gotten his answer right away! Kauffman came here to prove a point to the world, Steve! SR: What, that's he's a complete and utter goofball with no future? Kauffman's already confirmed that bit of information the world over! TD: You have no sympathy, do you? SR: What? I don't even like violins! [The lights rise once more, and the staredown is still underway. Kauffman mouths something to the Psycho, then steps back and readies himself. The Psycho nods and circles, and the two men lock up in center ring as cameras flash! The Psycho uses his weight advantage to send Kauffman into the corner, but Kauffman jumps cat-like to the second rope, jumps, and uses his new-found height to arm-drag the Psycho to the mat! POP! The Psycho rolls away, gets to a knee, and nods.] TD: That was a new wrinkle from Kauffman, Steve. He isn't the typical high-flying cruiserweight, but that was a flyer's move! Kauffman seems to have brought his best. SR: Yeah, yeah. What ever happened to those Gemini twins? TD: Oh, for heaven's sake! [The Psycho locks up with Kauffman again, and this time uses a fireman's carry to roll the "Flash" over. Kauffman holds onto the arm and gets back up, wringing the Psycho's arm. The Psycho counters with a duck-under into a hammerlock, which is reversed by a Kauffman leg-sweep. The Psycho gets up, and kaufffman runs to the corner, enticing the Psycho to follow, then leaping once more to the second turnbuckle and executing Billy Shakespeare's Curtain Call! POP! Cover... 1 - Kickout! The Psycho is impressed, but he still has a ton left in him, and the two men lock up in center ring again.] TD: I'm a bit surprised here. Kauffman has never really liked those risk moves, and he's already done two of them tonight. SR: Well, as much as I hate to say this, that's not too bad an idea on Kauffman's part. The Psycho couldn't have been expecting an air attack from the dreadfully-deliberate Kauffman. TD: Good point. [The Psycho has Kauffman trapped in a corner, and sends him to the other side with force! Kauffman bounces out, and the Psycho attempts a clothesline, which is ducked under. Kauffman runs to the other corner, leaps up again, sees the Psycho staying away this time, then smiles before getting down and moving into another lock-up. The Psycho gains a quick edge with a powerful wrist-lock, forcing Kauffman down onto his knees. The Psycho then runs off the ropes and missile-kicks the kneeling Kauffman! POP! Cover... 1 -- 2 -- Kickout! Kauffman is stunned, and the Psycho brings him up, executing a back suplex onto the former champ! BIG POP! Cover... 1 -- 2 -- KICKOUT! The subway dweller is still on the attack, whipping Kauffman off the ropes and landing a side suplex this time! Big pop! Cover... 1 -- 2 -- Kickout! The Psycho grins.] SR: That's just great. Smiling instead of pummelling. Get on with it! [Kauffman slowly gets to his feet as the Psycho runs off the ropes. He attempts a clothesline on the run back, but Kauffman anticipates and catches the Psycho with a tilt-a-whirl backbreaker! HUGE POP! The Psycho clutches his back in pain, and Kauffman starts to go to work, focusing on the right leg of the Psycho! Kauffman wrenches the leg a couple of times, then splashes down right on the twisted knee! Shocked pop! The Psycho cries out in pain, and Kauffman grapevines the sore leg! The Psycho grabs a handful of hair, but Kauffman applies more pressure, and the Psycho drosp to the mat! 1 -- 2 -- Psycho sits up and applies a chin-lock on Kauffman, but Kauffman again applies more pressure, and the Psycho goes to the mat in agony! 1 -- 2 -- UP! Getting desperate, the Psycho fires a hard right hand into Kauffman's skull! And again! Kauffman loosens the hold, and the Psycho kicks him away with his free leg!] TD: That was a great move by Kauffman, going to work on the leg of the Subway Psycho! [Kauffman uses his momentum to come off the ropes, then drops a knee down across the knee of the still-downed Psycho! Shocked pop! The Psycho gets up and hobbles into the corner, trying to shake off the pain. Kauffman follows in, and stomps away at the knee. Eventually, the Psycho fires back with several hard chops amd punches, reeling Kauffman back away! Psycho tests the knee, then runs and launches with a big flying forearm that floors Kauffman like a shot! HUGE POP! Cover... 1 -- 2 -- Kickout! The Psycho again runs off the ropes, but Kauffman gets up and catches the Psycho, using some power to lift him up into a knee-breaker! POP! The Psycho hits the mat again, and Kauffman rolls him over into a half-boston crab!] TD: Dan Kauffman has switched his style into a methodical one, and it's causing the Psycho all sorts of problems at the moment! SR: This is one of the most boring, useless, pointless matches I have ever seen in my entire life! TD: Folks, if it doesn't involve blood, barbed wire or razors, it's just not good wrestling, according to Steve. [The Psycho will not submit to the crab, and inches his way over to the ropes, grabbing them about ten seconds after the hold is applied. Kauffman lets go, then drags the Psycho up to his feet and whips him off the ropes. He attempts a hurricanrana on the return, but the Psycho reverses into a HUGE powerbomb! 1 -- 2 -- Kauffman just gets a shoulder up!] TD: Kauffman should have stayed on the knee, 'cause now he's in a world of trouble! [The Psycho finds the second wind, shakes off the hurt in his knee, and goes to work, hitting Kaufffman with an axehandle blow, a huge uppercut, a forearm shot, a european-style uppercut, and seeing Kauffman wobbly, runs off the ropes behind Kauffman and bulldogs him into the mat! HUGE POP! The Psycho runs off the ropes and drops a leg on the back of Kauffman's head! Psycho rolls him over... 1 -- 2 -- Kickout! The Psycho lifts Kauffman up, and presses him over his head! Cameras flash as the Psycho lets Kauffman drop face-first into the canvas! HUGE POP! The Psycho climbs to the top rope as Kauffman lies on his stomach, and drops off with a splash, but Kauffman rolls out of the way, and the Psycho hits hard! Shocked pop! Kauffman and the Psycho slowly get to their feet, and they start to slug in the center of the ring!] TD: The fans are on their feet! It's standing room only here at the Coliseum, and it's clear that both men want a win over the other here tonight! SR: Well, I can't complain, Dross. They are beating each other's brains out, and that's a positive... [Kauffman gains a slight edge, and side-headlocks the Psycho, who immediately back suplexes the smaller Kauffman! A bridge... 1 -- 2 -- Kauffman rolls out! Kauffman runs off the ropes as the Psycho gets up, and uses a twisting sunset flip to cradle the Psycho... 1 -- 2 -- Kickout! The Psycho powered out, and Kauffman gets to his feet, runs off the ropes again, and is met by a BIG powerslam that brings the crowd to a fever pitch! The Psycho covers and hooks a leg... 1 -- 2 -- Kickout! Pop! The Psycho whips Kauffman into the corner, and follows in, but Kauffman moves out of the way and the Psycho crashes in! The psycho falls to the mat, and Kauffman leaps up to the top and executes a snap-moonsault to the astonishment of the crowd! Cover... 1 -- 2 -- The Psycho kicks out!] TD: Both men are pulling out all the stops in this match! SR: I wish they would stop, Dross. [Kauffman is a little surprised at the resiliency of the Psycho, but heads up top again! The Psycho gets to his feet and catches Kauffman up top! He hits Kauffman in the midsecting a few times, then climbs up alongside, preparing for a Superplex! The Psycho lifts Kauffman, who somehow slides over the Psycho's shoulder and behind the Psycho, and while falling, uses sheer strength to execute a sloppy German Suplex! HUGE POP! The bridge fails, and Kauffman has to roll over to cover the Psycho! 1 -- 2 -- Shoulder up! The crowd is reacting with every move now, and Kauffman drags the Psycho up. He hits the subway-dweller with a european uppercut before running off the ropes and being caught by a HUGE spike slam! Psycho covers... 1 -- 2 -- Kickout! Kauffman rolls away into the corner as the Psycho begins to stand. Kauffman pulls himself up, and strikes first with a spinning heel kick that drops the Psycho! Cover... 1 -- 2 -- KICKOUT!] TD: What will it take to beat either of these men tonight? SR: A good steel chair shot... I hope. [Kauffman gives the signal for the old Powerplant spinebuster, then pulls the Psycho off the mat and whips him off the ropes! Kauffman starts the move on the Psycho, but the Psycho spins around, and spike DDTs Kauffman hard into the mat! Tremendous pop! The Psycho sets Kauffman up in the center of the ring, then climbs to the top rope and sets for the De-Railer! The crowd buzzes in anticipation, but just as the Psycho completes his climb, Kauffman kips to his feet, and jumps up onto the ropes to meet the Psycho!] TD: No way! [Cameras flash as Kauffman leaps from the top rope and executes a flawless hurricarana on the perched Psycho, sending both men down hard to the canvas! Kauffman hooks the Psycho's legs, but the Psycho still has the presence of mind to roll through and traps Kauffman on the mat! 1 - 2 - 3! Ding! Ding! Ding! The crowd roars as the Psycho rolls away the victory, and Kauffman can't believe he lost!] RA: Ladies and gentlemen, here is your winner, as the result of a pinfall: the Subway Psycho! TD: That was one of the most incredible endings I've ever seen! Kauffman, the usual reserved self that he is, completely changed his style and... I can't believe he did that! A hurricarana from the top rope! My word! SR: And he _still_ lost, Dross! Let's face it, Kauffman had his time, and it's all over! He's lost three in a row! Kauffman should have packed it up after his loss to James. TD: How can you say that? Kauffman may have come up on the short end, but this was one of his best performances of all time! The Psycho is a great competitor, and he was the better man tonight. [The Psycho has gotten to his feet, and Kauffman still sits in frustration from the loss. The Psycho comes over, and with the fans solidly behind him, extends a hand to Kauffman. Kauffman grimly smiles, and as the crowd applauds, allows the Psycho to help him to his feet! The two men shake hands to the delight of the crowd, and Kauffman leaves the ring, head slightly hung. As the Subway Psycho celebrates, with fireworks exploding high in the rafters above the ring, there is a buzz in the crowd as IIWF World Heavyweight Champion Casey James comes out into the aisle, carrying his kit bag. He is decked out in a tracksuit, and has clearly come from the showers.] SR: Hey, at last! Here comes the champ! TD: These two men will get it on in just five weeks at Ring Wars III... or are we going to see them have it out in the ring here tonight? SR: I sure hope so, Dross. Kick his ass, Casey! [Casey James climbs to the ring apron and smirks across the ring at the Psycho, who beckons James to enter the ring. The Champion obliges, and the Psycho approaches him, fists raised. Casey drops his kit bag and raises his hands to the Psycho, telling him to back off. The Psycho points at the bag, and Casey smiles again.] TD: What's going on here? SR: Damned cheap microphones aren't picking up their words. But I'll tell you what they're saying. The Stinker says to Casey, "Hey, what's in the bag? Did you find my manhood?" And Casey says, "Are you kidding me, you low-life sewer scum? This bag's far too..." TD: [interrupting] Yes, thanks, Steve. Casey's going into the bag. [Casey bends over, places the bag on the canvas between himself and the Psycho, and unzips it. He theatrically pulls various items out of the bag -- a towel, some bottles, his trunks -- and then pauses, and raises a finger to the Psycho, as if telling him to wait for it. The Psycho is clearly becoming very impatient, and is holding himself back from laying into Casey.] TD: We're right out of time, folks, but we'll try and stay with this as long as we can... [Huge shocked pop as Casey pulls a lacy red negligee out of the bag and holds it up to the Psycho, who seems very taken aback.] TD: What the...?! SR: Wow, I didn't know these two were into ladies' underwear! TD: Why on earth is Casey waving underwear at the Psycho?! SR: I don't know, Dross, but the Stinker doesn't seem too happy about it! [The Psycho turns a bright shade of crimson, and yells something at Casey. The cameras fail to pick up most of what is said, but the word "Sasha" seems to feature prominently. The Psycho grabs the negligee away from Casey James, and then nails him with a hard right hand. Huge pop! Within moments, a wild brawl between the two men has broken out!] TD: Oh my! Yesterday, Casey insinuated that he and Sasha had gotten quite close during her time with the Syndicate last summer... and perhaps he's using this negligee as proof... Look at these two men go at it! SR: This is wild, Dross! Yee-haw! TD: Fans, security are dashing down to ringside... We're right out of time for tonight. Don't forget that IIWF programming continues throughout this week, and we'll be back with more live wrestling action from the Coliseum next Saturday Night... Until then, for "Soundbite" Steve Roberts, this is Tim Dross, saying: so long, everybody! [Cut to a wide-angle shot as Casey and the Psycho brawl up into the aisle, with security personnel swarming around them, trying to pull them apart. 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 -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=+