[Fade up on shaky, handheld footage subtitled, "Last Saturday Night," accompanied by racing, urgent background music. The scene is a 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, but is knocked off balance by Wulf of the Dark Disciples. Kane and Hardin immediately begin brawling, as do Thunder and Wulf. The cowboys battle the Disciples to a standoff. Suddenly, two more figures can be seen rushing in from the locker room area. Danny Dynamite tears into Kane, and Michael Reyna hits Wulf with a double-axhandle. Wulf and Kane fight hard, but cannot overcome the odds. They are slowly beaten down. The Jobber Justice 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. 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. 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." 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. The shot fades as Hardin jabs a finger in the direction of Dynamite. Over a black screen comes a voice over:] VO: The war between the Syndicate and the "Lone Wolf" Brody Thunder has brought men together, and it has driven them apart. Thunder sought assistance in the shape of IIWF past master, the "Outlaw" J.W. Hardin, and together they joined forces with the Players' Club. However, it was always destined to be an uneasy alliance. Last week... [The screen flashes with the image of Dynamite inadvertently driving the steel chair into the chest of Hardin.] ...that alliance crumbled. Now, it's every man for himself. Tonight, three men will stand alone in the ring, their comrades consigned to merely watching. Tonight, Brody Thunder, Danny Dynamite and Casey James will lock it up in a wild Triangle Match. Tonight, the score will be settled. Tonight, on... [The screen flashes again, and the opening graphics explode into view:] ##### ###### ### ########## ########## ########## #### ## ########## ########## ########## #### # #### ######## ##### ##### #### ## ##### #### #### #### #### ### #### #### #### #### ############# ######### #### #### ########### ######### #### #### #### #### #### ######### ######### ### #### #### ######### ######### ### ## #### ######## ######## ## # #### =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- ## =-=-=-= INTERNATIONAL INTERNET WRESTLING FEDERATION =============================================== S + A + T + U + R + D + A + Y N + I + G + H + T ----------------------------------------------- + LiVE! + IIWF Coliseum, Portland, Oregon + + 22 February 1997 + [The opening graphics fade through to interior shots of the capacity crowd in the IIWF Coliseum. Fans wave hand-made banners and clamour to get in shot as the camera pans down past row upon row of folks both young and old, many wearing official IIWF merchandise. Fireworks erupt in the rafters to a big pop as the shot cuts to Tim Dross and "Soundbite" Steve Roberts, standing at the ringside announcers' table.] TD: Welcome everybody to the IIWF Coliseum, here in Portland, Oregon, for another live and kicking edition of IIWF Saturday Night! I'm Tim Dross, and beside me as always is my broadcast colleague, "Soundbite" Steve Roberts. SR: Hey, look, Dross, we're being joined here at ringside by none other than Mad Dog Watkins! [The shot cuts to the aisle, down which walks Mad Dog Watkins. Fans on either side of the crowd barriers try to touch the big black man, who simply swats their eager hands away. He approaches ringside, and points an accusatory finger at Steve Roberts before nimbly hopping over the crowd barrier and taking a seat in the front row. Fans immediately descend on him, wanting autographs and photos, but security surround Watkins, who smirks. Cut back to the broadcast table.] TD: I guess Watkins wants to get a bird's eye view of the action here in the Coliseum tonight, and who can blame him? We have ten incredible matches scheduled for the show, including two more matches in the United States Tag Team Championship Tournament, pitting Pain Inc. against the Alphabet Boys, and G.W.R. facing "Sychosys" Joe Petrow and his as-yet-unnamed partner. SR: I know who his partner is, Dross. TD: Really? SR: Of course. Me and Petrow, hey, we're like _that_. TD: Naturally. Are you going to tell us who his partner is? SR: Nope. TD: I thought not. Well, perhaps Becky LaRue will have a little more luck with Petrow, since she'll be inviting him into her Lair later on tonight. In other action, we'll finally get to see the long-awaited rematch between "Quickstrike" Chris Quigley and Otto "the Butcher" Verhoeven -- perhaps tonight this months-long rivalry will come to an end? SR: It sure will, Dross. It'll _all_ come to an end for Chris Quigley in less than two hours. TD: We'll see about that, Steve. Intercontinental Champion Marty Warnett will also be in non-title action tonight as he faces the impressive Creed -- what a match that's going to be. Plus Cruiserweight Champion, the "Enigma" Takezo Musashi faces Lord Byron in another non-title match. SR: Byron's going to wipe the mat with that scrawny little Oriental runt, Dross. TD: I don't think so, Steve. Musashi's not the Cruiserweight Champion for nothing, you know. SR: He's only the champion because he ducks the real challengers, like the White Phoenix. TD: That's not true, and you know it, Steve. In any case, Musashi and the Phoenix will lock it up in just four weeks at Ring Wars III -- and the IIWF President will be on hand tonight here in the Coliseum to announce more matches for that incredible event. SR: What about tonight's main event, Dross? The "Outlaw" J.W. Hardin making his last appearance before jetting off back to Europe for another seven months... TD: The IIWF certainly isn't the same without Hardin, Steve, but I'm not sure that's a bad thing. All the Outlaw done since his return is cause trouble, and with Brody Thunder alongside him, I don't see that changing tonight in that wild Triangle Match main event pitting the "Lone Wolf" against IIWF World Heavyweight Champion Casey James and Danny Dynamite of the Players' Club. SR: I'm only sorry that Hardin isn't going to be in there himself to kick some ass... although Thunder comes a close second, I guess. TD: All that and much more coming up tonight on IIWF Saturday Night, folks. But first, let's go to our opening encounter, pitting the struggling "Badboy" Randy Acorn against the Native American Nightwing, who has fared well in the IIWF since his debut several weeks ago. SR: Until tonight, that is, Dross. Acorn's gonna pound him into the mat. TD: I wouldn't be so sure, Steve. You'll remember that Acorn was beaten up pretty badly yesterday by an as yet unknown assailant, and he may not even be in any state to compete tonight. SR: Acorn will be here, Dross. TD: Well, there's only one way to find out. Let's go up to the ring. =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- "Badboy" Randy Acorn vs. Nightwing -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= WRITER: CS SR: This could all be an elaborate hoax by Acorn to get the better of Nightwing, but I don't think even Acorn could pull off a disguise that good. He was looking bad. TD: Nightwing still really wants a piece of the "Badboy" after he insulted his tribe weeks ago. SR: He may not get that opportunity tonight -- which is too bad, since it was guaranteed to be a good bloody brawl. TD: Is blood the only thing ever on your mind? SR: Two other things, women and fear. TD: Fear of what? SR: Fear that your "hair" will jump out and attack me. TD: [sigh] Why do I ask? SR: Because you're an idiot. TD: Let's get down to ringside. [Sparkplug rises from his seat to enter the ring but trips over a cable. A loud pop comes from the crowd as Sparkplug begins to blush and realize his shoe laces somehow got tied together. He unties them and finally enters the ring for the introductions.] RA: Tonight's opening contest is a Grudge Match scheduled for one fall. First, about to make his way down to ringside with his eagle, Chiqoit, hailing from Cherokee, North Carolina and weighing in at 235lbs, here is... Nightwing! [The crowd gives a moderate face pop as the lights go out until an eagle cry fills the arena and then Bryan Adams' "Native Son" starts up over the PA system. Chiqoit flies over the now lit arena until returning to the arms of a determined Nigthwing at the head of the aisle. Nightwing stays focused on the ring as he walks the aisle, warpaint adorning his face. Nightwing only stops to notice Mad Dog Watkins at ringside before entering the ring. ] TD: Think Watkins will be a factor? SR: Doubt it. I think Watkins would be more concerned with that 'roid freak Creed later on. TD: Anyway, Nightwing looks very determined to avenge his tribe, but the big question is: can Acorn even make it here tonight? RA: His oppenant ["Hit 'Em Up" blasts over the speakers] hailing from Newark, New Jersey, and weighing in at 227 lbs here is... "Badboy" Randy Acorn. [There is a small pause, but Acorn finally appears from behind the curtains. He comes out with a black eye and large bruises all over his body. He walks slowly to the ring as if in obvious pain. He ignores the fans and heads doggedly down to ringside, but before he can enter the ring, he is hit with a plancha by Nightwing, knocking the wind out of him. Nightwing then throws Acorn in the ring and hits him with a big tomahawk chop which sends Acorn hard to the mat.] TD: Acorn surprisingly makes it here tonight, but he's probably wishing he had stayed home. Nightwing, despite Acorn's injuries, is bent on making Acorn pay for his past sins. SR: I'll even say I don't like Acorn's chances of surviving this one. [Nightwing grabs the battered Acorn by the hair and flings him face first into the turnbuckle, which in turn has Acorn flip back to the canvas. Acorn is pulled back up and thrown back down with a faceslam. The very intense Nightwing continues this action by faceslamming Acorn again. Acorn, tired of taking this beating, rolls to the outside but is just met with another plancha by Nightwing. With Watkins watching directly from behind, Nightwing bulldogs Acorn unto the hard arena floor. Nightwing then sends Acorn's face into the cold steel stairs which causes red crimson to flow from Acorn's nose.] SR: All right! BLOOD! TD: You're sick, Steve. It seems Nightwing has busted Acorn's nose. This has become a massacre out here early on. [Nightwing is not finished on the outside quite yet, whipping Acorn full speed into the ringpost. Acorn lays flat on the floor after the collision in great pain, but Nightwing shows no mercy as he lays him out with a elbowsmash. Nightwing, after the ref warns him, finally decides to roll Acorn back into the ring. He waits, perched on the apron as Acorn groggily gets to his feet, before catapulting himself into the ring, hitting Acorn with a flying clothesline. Acorn once again finds himself flat on the mat and Nightwing flies off the ropes, hitting him with a big splash. However, Nightwing doesn't want to finish it, so he pulls Acorn back up, but is greeted with an amazing spin heel kick. Acorn rolls back to the outside with Nightwing not far behind. The Indian chases Acorn around the ring until Acorn ducks and sends the running Nightwing into the steel barrier.] TD: Acorn finally stops Nightwing -- but will he be able to take it to him? He's taken a right royal beating out here thus far. SR: I don't know, Dross. The old Acorn could, but this one prefers to pop heads off flowers. [Randy Acorn lands several forearms onto Nightwing and then tosses him inside. Acorn lifts up the stunned Native American and goes for a running lariat, but Nightwing ducks and hits the self-proclaimed "Badboy" with a DDT. Nightwing then goes to the outside and climbs to the top rope with a huge buzz from the crowd in anticipation. Acorn gets to his feet and is met with a big top rope dropkick to a huge pop. Nightwing then goes for the cover but lifts Acorn up before the three count. The ref begins to argue with Nightwing about the abuse and this gives Acorn enough time to exceute the dreaded crotch shot. Nightwing drops to the mat in obvious pain.] SR: Acorn, as always, the opportunistic competitor. TD: Acorn, as always, just as low as ever. [Acorn then takes advantage of the sitaution and lands in some heavy kicks and elbowdrops. He then scoops up the Native for a big scoop slam. While Nightwing gets back to this feet, Acorn runs off across the ring and bounces off the ropes to perform a springboard dropkick. Acorn covers Nightwing but can't even get a one count. He lifts his opponent up and whips him hard into the corner, sending Nightwing back to the center of the ring and right into Acorn's arms for a belly-to-belly suplex. Acorn keeps it hooked and his legs placed for the cover. The ref gets into position - 1 - 2 - and a huge kickout! Nightwing then jumps up and stares at Acorn. Acorn, sensing trouble, backs up to the turnbuckle.] SR: Nightwing appears a little upset over that low blow. TD: That's an understatement, Steve. SR: I guess that's all that's left of the Native Americans' heritage, huh, Dross? TD: Stop that, Steve. [Once Acorn is cornered he attempts another low blow, but it's blocked by Nightwing. Acorn then fires a huge shot, but it seems to have no effect on Nightwing, who lets out a war cry. Nightwing fires back with a huge right-hand shot, sending Acorn twirling through the air and landing on his back on the mat. Nightwing lifts him back up for several tomahawk chops and Acorn careens to the mat. Nightwing then throws himself off the ropes and into a flying forearm on Acorn. Sensing Acorn is finished he lifts him up onto the top turnbuckle and sets him up for the Totem Drop.] TD: It looks like this thing is all... What the heck?! [At that moment the lights go out, and horrendous shrill laughter fills the arena. Seconds later, the lights come back up, and the figure of a clown is seen disappearing into the curtains.] TD: What was that all about?! SR: Hey, where's Nightwing's pigeon? TD: It's an eagle, Steve! Whoa, where is it?! [Nightwing notices his friend's disappearance, and leaves a battered Acorn in the ring, racing back up the aisle in pursuit of his feathered companion.] TD: Nightwing has abandoned the match in hopes of finding where his bird has disappeared to. SR: It's obviously the work of Cheshire. I'd know that annoying laughter anywhere. TD: Well, the ref has started the count, and there's no way Nightwing is going to make it back. Six... Seven... Eight... Nine... It's all over! [Ding! Ding! Ding!] TD: Acorn takes the victory here -- but I will tell you this, he doesn't feel like the winner right now. SR: Neither does Nightwing, Dross -- he lost his giant turkey! TD: Show some respect. I hope Nightwing is able to retrieve his friend. What a terrible act by Cheshire, if that is indeed who it was. SR: [laughing] Oh, it was. I guess I should give Cheshire more credit than I have in the past. I guess it's eagle sandwiches at the Cheshire estate tonight. TD: I don't know who is sicker: Cheshire for stealing the eagle, or you for these comments. [Randy Acorn is escorted back up the aisle by the referee as "Hit 'Em Up" plays over the sound system once more.] RA: Your winner of this contest by count-out... "Badboy" Randy Acorn! [Big heel pop! Cut to the announcers' table.] TD: What an opener that was, Steve. And things are only going to get hotter in the Coliseum as we move further towards the crowning of the first ever IIWF United States Tag Team Champions with the first of tonight's two tournament matches. We've already seen Cold Spell, Night Patrol, the Harlequins and the Prophets of Rage advance, and up next, the Alphabet Boys square off against Pain Inc. to determine who will face Night Patrol in the quarterfinals. =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- IIWF UNITED STATES TAG TEAM CHAMPIONSHIP TOURNAMENT MATCH: -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Alphabet Boys vs. Pain Inc. ---------------------------------------------------------- WRITER: DK [Sparkplug Lee steps into the glare of the spotlight once more.] SL: The following contest, set for one fall, is another first-round matchup in the United States Tag Team Championship Tournament! ["More Human Than Human" begins to play to a heel pop.] Introducing first, at a combined weight of 585 pounds, led to the ring by Mr. Mic... Morningstar, Hellraiser, PAIN INC.! [Mr.Mic appears first to a loud heel pop, and walks down to ringside with a cold, down-to-business look about him. Morningstar and Hellraiser look absoultely menacing, threatening the fans while appearing to discuss strategy. Ironically, Hades doesn't appear to be with Pain Inc.] TD: I wonder what happened to Hades? I assume he's around somewhere... SR: I assure you, there's a plan for this match, and whether of not it includes Hades, Pain Inc. will execute their plan to perfection. TD: Strategy? This is Pain Inc., Steve. They just go out and beat the other team to a pulp. Where's the strategy in that? SR: Ah yes, but this is the _new_ Pain Inc. Mr. Mic tells me that they are focused and determined, and those two inbred morons, the Alphabet Boys, are gonna find out how focused and determined. TD: Well, you may be right about that one. The ABoys never seem to be focused, but they sure are strange. SR: They're looser than your grandmother, Dross. [The chorus of six-year-olds singing the "Alphabet Song" starts up over the PA.] SL: And their opponents, at a combined weight of 589 pounds, Abie, Zed, THE ALPHABET BOYS! [The crowd starts to pop as Abie and then Zed appear at the head of the aisleway. Wouldn't you know, they are carrying two bags of flour with them, tossing them around with obvious glee. One of the bags rips down the middle, spewing flour all over the place, including into Abie's hair.] SR: That's the greatest hair style I've seen since the advent of colored mousse! Speaking of colored mousse, if we could get a shot on Dross' head here... TD: Steve, please! No one ever knows what these Alphabet Boys will do, but one thing's for sure... Don't expect the expected. SR: No, but expect the fact that Pain Inc. isn't waiting for the bell, 'cause the other bag of flour just met its own demise! [Morningstar and Hellraiser, fed up with the antics of the ABoys, leap out of the ring and attack the duo on the floor! Both bags of flour fall to the ground with a powdery crash, and Morningstar battles with Abie amidst a white cloud as Hellraiser finds Zed a tough nut to crack. Morningstar gets rid of Abie by throwing him towards the steps with a loud CLANG!, and teams up with Hellraiser to beat Zed down to the floor! Abie is resilient, and grabs a lump of flour and throws it in Hellraiser's eyes! POP! The Pain Inc. member staggers around blindly, and is thrown into the ring by Abie, who climbs in as well as Zed and Morningstar continue to brawl.] SR: Disqualify Abie, ref! That was a blatent cheating tactic! Hellraiser is blind in there! TD: All's fair outside the ring, Steve. You've said so yourself on a number of occasions. SR: Thanks! [Abie ducks a wild swing from Hellraiser, and punches him into the corner, stomping first one foot, then the other! Pop! Hellraiser hops out holding his foot, and Abie clotheslines the big guy down! Both Morningstar and Zed finally seperate and go to their corners, and Mr. Mic shouts out instructions as Abie drops an elbow on the prone Hellraiser! Cover... 1 -- 2 -- KICKOUT! The strong kickout sends Abie over to his corner, where he tags Zed. The other ABoy quickly grabs Hellraiser, who manages to poke him in the eye! Heel pop! Hellraiser pulls Zed by his tights into the Pain Inc. corner, and a tag is made to Morningstar, who enters and immediately starts choking Zed! The choke is broken at the count of four, and Morningstar whips Zed off the ropes, hitting a back drop on the return before returning to stomps and chokes. There is a huge pop as the Zodiac Connection, Tag Team Title belts in tow, head down the aisle!] SR: Now what do these two definitions of luck want out here? TD: They obviously want to take a look at Pain Inc. Don't forget, they were attacked by Pain Inc. _and_ the Night Patrol just two weeks ago! The Zodiacs haven't forgotten, if those T-shirts are any indication! SR: Yeah, it takes a man to wear a shirt with "Retribution" on it. TD: It also proves a point... [The Zodiacs pull up two chairs and simply sit and watch in the aisle as Morningstar drags up Zed, sends him into the corner, and runs in with a huge clothesline that floors the ABoy! Heel Pop! Abie tries to fire up the crowd as Morningstar drags Zed over to the corner, tagging Hellraiser. The other Pain Inc. member quickly enters and sets Zed up for a nice back suplex! The Zodiacs seem impressed as the cover is made... 1 -- 2 -- Kickout! Morningstar drags Zed back to his feet, and whips him off the ropes, but sets his head too early and gets punted onto his back! Zed, a trifle weary, stumbles back into his own corner and actually hits Abie! Abie steers Zed in the right direction, and Zed unleashes with a dropkick on the rising Morningstar! Pop! Zed finally shakes out the cobwebs and attempts a tag, but Mr. Mic gets the ref's attention by jumping onto the apron! The tag is made! POP! Abie floors Morningstar with a big clothesline and starts to brawl with Hellraiser, but the ref forces Abie back to his own corner as Pain Inc. doubleteams the worn-out Zed!] TD: Come on, ref, there was a tag! SR: What a great move by Pain Inc.! This is the reason they have Mr. Mic, Dross, so that they can execute their plans to perfection! [The Zodiac Connection joins in with the ABoys in trying to convince the ref the tag was made, but in the meantime, Hellraiser drops Zed with a reverse DDT in the center of the ring! Hellraiser tags Morningstar, who climbs to the top rope! Hellraiser points out at the Zodiacs, then launches Morningstar in their own rocket launcher! Cameras flash, but Morningstar tastes nothing but blue canvas as Zed gets out of the way! Huge pop! Zed crawls over to his corner slowly but surely.] TD: Zed is going to make the tag this time! The match has swung the ABoys' way here! SR: Work your magic, Mic! [Mr. Mic once more hops to the apron, but Zed sees him and knocks him off with a haymaker that sends the manager crashing to the floor! Then, seeing Hellraiser trying to catch him, Zed lunges with a last-ditch effort and tags in Abie! Big pop! Abie hits the ring like a house on fire, rocking both members of Pain Inc. with rights, lefts, kicks, and all manner of headbutts! Abie finally catches both men and rams their heads together! POP! Morningstar collapses as Abie holds on to, then suplexes Hellraiser! The floatover and a cover... 1 -- 2 -- Morningstar makes the save, then Zed tackles Morningstar, igniting a wild four-man brawl inside the ring.] TD: This match has lost all control! It's a wild ruckus in there at the moment... and Hellraiser and Abie go flying to the outside! SR: I'm surprised those moronic Zodiacs have kept their distance! TD: Actually, I'm a little surprised too, but they are dead focused on Pain Inc... I don't think they've taken their eyes off of the two guys! Look out! [The timekeeper's table falls victom to a flying Hellraiser, thrown through by a furious Abie! There is a big pop as Abie helps the timekeeper to his feet amidst the wreckage, then enters the ring as Morningstar has Zed pinned after a German suplex! Abie crashes down onto Morningstar with a big elbow drop and attempts to cover, but Mr. Mic once more distracts the ref as Hellraiser climbs the turnbuckles, bloody after his ride through the table! Hellraiser comes off with a HUGE leg drop to a massive heel pop! Mr. Mic hops off the apron as Hellraiser covers Abie! 1 -- 2 -- 3! Ding! Ding! Ding! Zed just misses making the save as Pain Inc. rolls outside.] TD: I think the Alphabet Boys were just robbed of a victory by Mr. Mic! SR: Hey, Pain Inc. got the job done, that's all that matters! And from the looks of it, they aren't done yet! [Morningstar and Hellraiser begin to hassle the Zodiacs out in the aisleway, as the Zodiacs have their belts readied. Heated words are traded, until both teams get blindsided by the Dark Disciples, who fly out of the crowd. The attack happens so fast that Pain Inc. is obliterated down within seconds, and the Disciples start to go to town on the Zodiacs, to whom they lost the tag titles last week. Kane and Wolf pick up the title belts and start whipping the Zodiacs with them! The Night Patrol fly down the aisle and threaten the Disciples while helping Pain Inc, but the Disciples are too worried about beating up the Zodiacs to notice...] TD: This is total carnage! SR: This is exactly what the Zodiacs ordered last week! I love it! [Eventually, the Night Patrol help Pain Inc. back up the aisleway with Mr. Mic, and Don McQueen hops into the ring to speak as the Disciples stomp away on the beaten Zodiacs:] DM: Listen up, you two losers! The Dark Disciples want their rematch, and they want it TONIGHT! If we have to pound your two bodies into the ground to get it, so be it! We want our rematch, and WE WANT IT NOW! [McQueen throws down the microphone and exits the ring to a HUGE heel pop, and the Disciples follow McQueen away, leaving the Zodiac Connection in a heap in the aisleway, their title belts thrown over their bodies. Officials rush out into the aisle to help the Zodiacs to their feet.] TD: This is a most unfortunate incident, Steve. SR: No, it's great, Dross. Perhaps those spineless Zodiacs will haul their limp carcasses back into the ring to get their tails kicked from bell to bell by the _true_ IIWF World Tag Team Champions later on tonight. TD: I expect the IIWF President will have something to say about that. Larry Morton is backstage... Larry? [Cut to Larry Morton standing on the other side of the entranceway curtain. There is general commotion in the background.] LM: Tim... I can hardly hear you... but there's a lot of confusion back here... Security have just forced the Disciples back into their locker room, but Don McQueen is adamant. I understand that he was in a heated argument with the IIWF President earlier on tonight about this situation. He apparently claims that President Dan hasn't been returning his calls this week, and is making all sorts of noises about conspiracy... TD: [over the headset] Just for a change. LM: Indeed. I'm going to try and get a word with the President myself... I'll keep you informed. For now, back to you at ringside. [As the Zodiac Connection come through the curtain, holding their heads but otherwise looking more shaken than injured, cut back to ringside.] TD: Are we going to see an unscheduled defence of the IIWF World Tag Team Championships tonight? Only time will tell. For now, we must move on. I understand Kurt Manning will now be joining us for commentary for this next match... SR: Great, I can have an intelligent conversation with someone here for once. ["Chariots of Fire" starts up and the crowd gives a big heel pop as Manning, dressed in a tailor made black suit, with his RSPWF Commentator of the Year trophy in hand, walks down the aisle, the usual smirk on his face. He passed by the broadcast table, grabs the microphone from Sparkplug Lee, and enters the ring.] TD: What's he gonna do, Steve? SR: Beats me. Sing? TD: I certainly hope not. [Manning taps the microphone.] KM: Hey! Idiots! Listen up! [heel pop!] SR: He's talking to you, Dross. [Manning walks around the ring as he talks.] KM: I've been around the IIWF for... about a month, I guess, although it seems longer. Since I appeared and skyrocketed the ratings, I've been getting nothing but insults from the so-called broadcasters of this federation! That includes Dross, Morton, Roberts, and even Bulldog Brown, who took that "play dead" trick a little too far. [Heel pop!] Of course, there is one person who didn't bad mouth me... Becky LaRue. In fact, it could only be described as "good mouth" if you catch my drift! And as much as I'd like to stick around and carry this pathetic staff, to be quite honest, the IIWF has grown tiresome! I beat up its "best wrestler", Chris Quigley, with ease. The rest of the scrubs are afraid to go near me for an interview. I attempted to sign a wrestling contract, but the wrestlers of the IIWF protested, saying they didn't want to get beat up by the "Masterpiece" Kurt Manning! So I say, screw you all! You had your chance. It's your loss, and I'm taking my Best Commentator ass elsewhere! Get bent, punks! [A huge heel pop rocks the arena, as Manning throws down the microphone, vaults over the top rope with his trophy in hand, gives Dross and Roberts a one-fingered salute, and walks back down the aisle, dissappearing behind the curtains.] TD: Kurt Manning is gone from the IIWF? About time! SR: Well, at least he let me know I was #1 before he left... TD: Next up, we've got a real hummer of a match -- the Venusian Death Cell will be facing "Nifty" Ned Norton. SR: Oh, you bet. A really dangerous competitor in Norton. Wowee. TD: Steve, please. Norton has paid his dues for a long time here in the IIWF, and a win over somebody like the Cell could be just what it takes to put him over the top. SR: The Venusian Death Cell is struggling for his life! I don't remember the last time he actually won a match. TD: Um, it says here. Yep, August 8, 1986. SR: Ha! Your pathetic attempts at humour do little to impress me, Dross. Rather like your pathetic attempts at concealing your male pattern baldness, in fact. TD: [sighs] Let's get back up to the ring. =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- Venusian Death Cell vs. "Nifty" Ned Norton -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= WRITER: NN [The camera pans up to the ring. Ned Norton is there, preparing for the match by bouncing off the ropes. The spotlight catches a glimpse of powder blue -- the color of Sparkplug Lee's tuxedo.] RA: Ladies and gentlemen, the following matchup is scheduled for one fall! Introducing first, already in the ring, hailing from Sweet Home Alabama and weighing in at 245lbs, here is "Nifty" Ned Norton! [The crowd gives some token applause for Norton, but seems quite uninterested, save for one rabid, bald, goateed fan in the front row, wearing a home-made Ned Norton t-shirt and waving a banner proclaiming "Nifty's #1!"] TD: You know, one thing about Norton... he's always been a good guy. He's just not had success in the ring. SR: I'll say. I heard that he was 2-29 in his senior year of high school, wrestling at 215. The only "wins" he ever recorded were because the opposition was open at 215 in a dual. TD: Now, come on Steve, everyone knows that he was once a very accomplished amateur wrestler. SR: He still is! RA: And his opponent... hailing from "Venus"... [Lee chuckles and shakes his head in] ... at 332 pounds, here is the Cell! [The music from the shower scene in the movie Psycho plays. A mysterious character appears from behind the curtain, followed by five more people. The trailers are wearing white cloaks which encompass their bodies, including their heads. The Cell is nowhere to be found.] TD: I have no idea what to make of this. SR: Where's the Venusian Death Cell? TD: Well, they called him "The Cell". No Venusian. No Death. Just "The Cell". What's up with that? SR: Maybe 'Pluggy can't pronounce "Venusian". It _is_ multisyllabic, you know. TD: I'm going to guess that this front fellow is "Oak", a man who the "Cell" seems to speak highly of. SR: You know, Dross, a preposition is a terrible word to end a sentence _with_. [Dross laughs mockingly and turns back to watch the sixtet make its way down the aisle. The five cloaked men follow Oak into the ring, who steps through slowly. All six men begin some sort of ceremony, forming a circle. Suddenly, one man rips off his cloak and clotheslines Norton to the canvas. His face is seen, and the attacker is, in fact, the Cell himself. He is still wearing the baggy pants, which flop as he kicks and stomps on Norton. Big heel pop!] SR: Ha! One of the cloakers was the Cell himself! TD: Yeah, watch for the other four "cloakers", too. I wonder what role these four men, along with Oak, are going to play in the Cell's career? SR: It's certainly an interesting religious sect, isn't it? [The Cell drops to one knee and begins to choke Norton. The referee begins counting on the Cell, 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - the Cell swats the referee away. Norton struggles back to his feet, and is quickly taken to the mat by a clothesline. The Cell covers - 1 - 2 - kickout. Norton is snapped right back up and bodyslammed.] TD: Ned Norton, a ring veteran, is right now being beaten down by the Cell... at least I think that's what he's being called now. SR: I don't know what he's being called, but he sure has acquired a great band of thugs. Look at all of them... pacing around the ring with their hoods... TD: [sarcastically] Yeah, like the KKK. Don't you want your children to grow up that way? [The Cell drags Norton back up and sends him to the ropes. He attempts a clothesline, but Norton ducks and comes off the other side with a dropkick! He covers - 1 - kickout. The Cell attacks with his arms reaching for Norton's throat, but Norton is able to take him down with an armdrag. He slides up on the arm and twists for all he's got. The Cell lets out a little yelp.] SR: Ha! Look at this, Norton's actually in the ring and _not_ the one screaming in agony! Write this down! TD: Perhaps we could have our cub, Steve Summer, come and break the story. SR: Whatever! That Summers is as cold as winter. He hasn't conducted a decent interview yet? Did you see his one with Steve Kowalski a few months back? How about his work this week with Aaron the Caddy? Wow, Aaron sure answered a lot of questions there. At least Summers didn't drop the mic! TD: He's the best journalist named "Steve" that I know. SR: Watch it, punk! I'll give you a taste of what I did to Paris... TD: You're going to call on a hired gun to attack me? [As Norton slides up on the armbar, the five members of the religious sect begin to chant, in an attempt to rally their man back his feet. Suddenly, the Cell gets back to his feet and drives his free hand into the midsection of Norton. Ned doubles over, and the Cell snaps him back to the mat via his hair. He covers - 1 - 2 - kickout.] TD: Did you see that? SR: Yeah, it was freaky... the cult began chanting and it gave the Cell strength enough to get back to his feet! TD: If this cult can give the Cell more strength than he already has, he could certainly emerge as a threat around here to win some gold. SR: So many questions I want answers to: What role does "Oak" play in all of this? Is he some sort of leader of the clan? Is the Cell the leader? What happened to Venusian and Death? Did they die in some sort of car accident? And, just exactly what _are_ Becky Larue's measurements? TD: You talk too much. [Norton is back to his feet, and felled by a Cell clothesline. Norton hops back up, and is rocked by another clothesline, which knocks Norton down once more. Cell kicks him in the ribs, sending the Nifty One out to the floor, at the feet of Oak. Oak grabs him and very peacefully walks him over to the steel stairs. Oak looks as if he aims to injure Norton, but instead he just pitches him back into the ring.] SR: What a pansy! He should have sent that man into the hard steel! TD: Now, Steve, that's hardly a way of doing things. Besides, this religious sect doesn't really appear to be violent. [The Cell hops quickly up to the top rope, and perches himself to fly across the ring. Norton staggers about the ring, and the Cell launches himself with a double axehandle -- but Norton catches the Cell out of the air!] TD: Where did that come from? [Norton locks in a tight grip as the crowd begins to cheer, and the Cell looks around in fear. Norton squeezes for a couple more seconds, and then rocks the Cell with a belly-to-belly suplex. The crowd pops!] SR: Norton could knock the Cell off! [Norton charges in, but is quickly drilled in the stomach by a foot from the Cell. The Cell quickly executes a powerbomb on Norton, laying him out in the ring.] SR: Maybe not. [The Cell points at the religious sect, which nods in unison. The Cell picks Norton up and sends him for the ride. As Norton comes back on the rebound, the Cell catches Norton by the throat and executes a devastating chokeslam.] TD: It's the Venusian Death Slam! SR: Or maybe just "The Slam". TD: Yeah, who knows... maybe the VD part of the name is just deadly. SR: Hey, the Cell doesn't have VD anymore! [The Cell covers - 1 - 2 - 3! Ding! Ding! Ding! The crowd lets out a big heel pop.] RA: The winner of the match is The Cell! [The religious sect slowly makes its way into the ring and celebrates with the victorious Cell. The perform another odd ceremony before leaving the ring. Norton slaps the mat in disgust and heads up the aisle to an appreciative round of golf claps.] SR: Loser. TD: That's not nice, Steve. I understand that Ned Norton is actually being scouted by a top manager for a possible partnership with another up-and-coming IIWF talent in the very near future! SR: Don't make me laugh, Dross! TD: You may scoff, Steve, but stranger things have happened. Okay, folks, it's time for tonight's LaRue's Lair. Becky's guest this week is the man who will wrestle alongside a mystery partner in the United States Tag Team Championship Tournament against G.W.R. later on tonight. Perhaps Becky will ask him who his partner is... [Becky rushes onto the set, a little out of breath, pulling off her driving gloves as she sits.] BL: Hi, friends and followers. Did you know that a Chevy Nova can't beat a Porsche in a race around the Coliseum parking lot? Now you know. With me in the Lair this evening is a man who has made a living out of being just a little unhinged. It's not Larry, or Sparkplug, but Joe Petrow! And no, he has never been anywhere near my car. [Petrow enters. There is an audible pop from his groupies. This eventually turns into a fist-fight which quickly ends after the first punch.] BL: You DO know that "Sychosys" is spelled wrong, don't you? JP: My name is spelled correctly, but you won't find it in any dictionary. And I can't properly define it using your language. BL: I guess 'Ebonics' has raised it's head again on the Lair. Now Joe, may I call you Joe? I will anyways. I don't want to talk about the never ending list of wrestlers that you have pissed off, I want to talk about Joe the man. What makes you so bitter? JP: Possibly an excess buildup of acid? But as I don't taste myself too often, I really can't be too sure. Care for a bite? [holds out his arm] BL: [She seriously considers the offer for a moment, but decides to decline the invitation.] Some weeks ago, you did one of the most hilarious stunts ever in the history of the IIWF when you replaced other wrestlers' theme music with your own choices. How did you come up with that idea? JP: Entrance music should be a window into the soul of the wrestler. That's why mine is always changing, because I am always changing. But everyone else has been lying to the Sychopaths with their choices, so I decided to show these people for who they really are. BL: What music would you have chosen for me? JP: I'm not sure. What music was Wilt Chamberlin known for? BL: An organ solo I'm sure. Speaking of which...have you ever had the urge to sneak into the booth and replace the organist at a Baseball or Hockey game? JP: If I ever did, I don't now, because I get bored doing the same thing more than once. I would like to replace a referee some time so I can show them how to do their job right. BL: And on the subject of doing a lousy job, do you ever have the urge to sneak into the front office and replace our president? JP: The thought has occurred to me. But doing that would just give me less power than I have right now. As Chris Quigley found out, I am nobody's puppet. BL: Back to wrestling and that inexhaustable list. Which wrestlers really bother you right now? JP: Well, of course there are the Dan Kauffman's and Chris Quigley's of the world, that thrive on their own self-inflated sense of self-worth. The Sychopaths take some of the lustre away from them with their antics, and if they ever step into the ring with me I will finish the job. But the only wretler that really bothers me right now is the Dirt Dog. Every time I got a little momentum in this league, he stops it right in its tracks. Mind games do not work with this man, because he has no mind to play with. So at Ring Wars III, if I may abuse the old cliche, I am going to beat some sense into Unique Allah, and rid myself of the plague that is he once and for all. BL: It there any "stipulation" match that you wouldn't get involved in to get a little revenge? JP: A scaffold match. That is beyond ridiculous, even for me. BL: Just how insane are you? JP: It depends how you define insanity. If you are asking me how different I am from everybody else, then I am extremely insane. If you are asking me how far gone from reality I am, then I am not insane at all. I am not out of touch with reality, I simply choose not to live by its rules anymore. BL: Am I in danger from you right now? JP: Do you want to be? BL: Kauffman's retirement brings this thought to mind: What will Joe Petrow's last match be like? JP: Joe Petrow's last match will involve Joe Petrow's last breath in this world. And it will make a statement unlike any ever made before, or ever to be made again. BL: Pretend you've got any wrestler in this fed unconscious on the mat in front of you. Describe what you'd do next? JP: I assume this has to be a male wrestler, right? In that case, I'd do everything in my power to revive him, since I can't have any fun with him when he's like that. BL: Speaking of taking advantage of the unconscious... Have you and Steve Roberts ever partied together? JP: Steve Roberts is a sick, twisted, bizarre individual. We're never partied before, but he's more than welcome to come visit my world anytime. BL: Time is running out. These "fans" don't seem to like you much. Anything you'd like to tell them before the censors delay catches up? JP: My Sychopaths "get it", so I don't care about anyone else. But if I could really do anything I wanted in this world, I would like to take each and every one of you and [BLEEP] [BLEEP] [BLEEP] with a [BLEEP] [BLEEP] until you were blue in the face, and then [BLEEP] [BLEEP] [BLEEP] [BLEEP] with whipped cream and a cherry on top! But we can do that for fun someday if you like, Becky. I'm outta here! [The complaints in the coliseum become deafening. Petrow slides backstage and security take cans of mace in hand. The chaos is broken by a loud electronic shriek and all eyes turn to Sparkplug Lee who has somehow managed to break the microphone into a number of unrecognizeable pieces.] BL: There you have it. A reserved interview from a man who you wouldn't expect it from. Is he insane or does he just act that way? Maybe he's sane and we're the crazy ones? Maybe I don't care. For more in depth journeying into our collective psyche: Tim and Steve. [Cut back to the announcing table.] TD: Thank heavens for the ten second delay on this live broadcast, Steve. Petrow could have gotten us taken off the air with those remarks... Okay, folks, let's get back up to the ring for our next match, as the Sandman battles Steve Kowalski one-on-one. There's no shortage of bad blood between these two individuals, Steve. SR: And hopefully we'll get to see some of it tonight! TD: Steve Kowalski certainly seemed determined of that when we got these comments from him earlier this week: [Cut to footage subtitled, "Earlier This Week." The shot fades in, showing an old record player. There is a record set up, as the player turns beneath it. With a "click" the small record drops and begins to play an old scratchy tune:] 'Mr. Sandman, bring me a dream' 'Make him the cutest that I've ever seen' 'Give him two lips like roses or... !!!!!CRUNCH!!!!!! [A steel-toed work boot comes crashing down on the old phonograph, tearing it apart. The turntable slows down and finally stops. The camera is still centered on the boot, perched atop the crushed turntable. A stogie drops to the floor. The camera pans up to see Steve "The Fury" Kowalski blow out the last bit of smoke.] SK: I always hated that [BLEEP]in' song. Just like I always hated ya, Sandcastle. Yer a fool that just let the dawgs out on yerself. Can't ya hear barkin'? Woof, punk! Feel them nippin' at ya heels? Them's my teeth! Smeel that hot breath on the back o' yer neck? [A sudden close up shot] That's me. Ya like the dream/nightmare crap, huh? Well, dream a 'lil dream of me, scumbag! [The New Jersey Nightmare takes off his jacket, showing his new t-shirt that reads "Ya Got Bad Dreams!?!" He turn around to let us see the back "Then KILL Yerself a Sandman"] SK: I _am_ the prime SOB in the IIWF and I'm gonna open ya up like a knife thru fruit! You'll hafta change hat sizes after I SKULLPUMP ya! 'Nuff of this tuff talk. Come Saturday night, its Feast or Famine. _My_ feast..._yer_ famine! Sweet dreams, punk! [Cut back to ringside.] =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Steve "the Fury" Kowalski vs. The Sandman =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= WRITER: RD TD: One thing is for sure, we're not going to see too many drop toe holds or fireman's carry takedowns in this encounter. SR: That's right Timmy, it's gonna be a good old fashioned brawl, just the way I like it. [The camera picks up Marty Warnett coming down the aisle. He is wearing shades and looks unshaven. The crowd gives the Intercontinental champion a big pop as he pulls up a chair at ringside, but he foregoes his usual interaction with the fans and simply turns his attention to the ring.] SR: What the heck does Warnett think he's doing? If Kowalski or the Sandman catches him down here they're sure to put a few dents in that ugly mug of his. What an idiot! TD: Well, this match features Marty's two biggest current title threats, perhaps he wants to do a little scouting. I can't help but agree with you though, Steve, Marty may be flirting with excessive danger here. RA: The following contest is scheduled for one fall. Coming down the aisle, hailing from parts unknown, and weighing in at 290 lbs, here is the Sandman! ["Concerto of the Desperado" plays over the loudspeakers and there is a moderate heel pop as the Sandman heads down the aisle. He seems surprised to see Marty Warnett sittting at ringside, and immediately begins to hurl abuse at the "Party Maniac". Marty doesn't look too perturbed, and casually makes a rude gesture with his middle index finger at the Sandman. Outraged, the masked man lunges toward Warnett, but the referee manages to interject himself between them and usher the Sandman into the ring.] TD: Obvious rivalry there between Marty Warnett and the Sandman, and we almost witnessed a brawl before the bell. Fortunately the referee showed some fast reflexes and prevented a crisis situation. SR: Fortunately? We missed out on a chance to see Warnett get turned into blancmange, you simpleton! TD: Just what is this substance known as blancmange? SR: I'm not sure exactly, but I hear it's good for holding down a toupee during stormy weather. TD: You'll never let the matter of my hair drop, will you, Steve? RA: And introducing his opponent, hailing from the badstreets of Newark, New Jersey, weighing in at 268lbs, here is Steve "the Fury" Kowalski! [There is a tremendous heel pop as "Don't Fear the Reaper" plays over the speakers and Steve Kowalski appears at the head of the aisle. He raises his fists to the air and nearby fans pelt "the Fury" with trash. Kowalski rubs his fists togethor as he walks down the aisle. In the front row several roguish looking fans wearing "Steve Kowalski, one tough SOB" T-shirts cheer wildly and pour beer over each others' heads.] TD: Who let those scoundrels in the arena? I thought wrestling fans were supposed to be respectable people. SR: Those are respectable people Dross. You should see the nuts we've got up in the cheap seats. [Kowalski enters the ring and then leans over the ropes facing Marty Warnett. "You're next punk!" he shouts, pointing at the IC champion. Marty remains unperturbed and his only response is to spit on the ground. The Sandman, seeing Kowalski's back turned, immediately rushes him from behind, clotheslining "the Fury" over the top rope. Ding! Ding! Ding! The Sandman runs along the apron and launches himself at Kowalski with a double-axehandle. Both men go flying into the steel barrier, sending the ringside fans scattering!] TD: These two ruffians don't mess about, they get straight down to the dirt under the fingernails affair. I usually abhor this type of chaos in a wrestling ring, but I must admit, the best tactic for the referee to take might be to just let these men brawl it out of their systems. SR: For once I find myself agreeing with you, Dross. Let's take steps to ensure it doesn't happen again. [Sandman and Kowalski drag themselves to their feet, and immediately begin swinging away at one another. Each man seems willing to take two shots just to deliver one. Kowalski clips the Sandman with a particularly nasty elbow to the chin, and the masked man staggers. Kowalski siezes hold of him around the neck and charges the steel ring steps. Boom! Sandman's head strikes the steps with tremendous force and he slumps down to the concrete. Sandman's mask appears a little frayed at the forehead and blood seeps through. Kowalski picks up the ring steps and holds them high over his head, before slamming them down onto Sandman's back! Shocked gasp from the crowd.] SR: This is getting better by the moment! Already the Sandman is busted open and we haven't passed the three minute mark yet. TD: But real wins are logged inside the ring, Steve, not on the arena floor. Kowalski better get back between those ropes before the count runs out. ["The Fury" drags Sandman up and rolls him back into the ring. One of the ringside Fury fans offers Kowalski a drink of beer and he knocks it back with one swig. He throws the can aside and climbs back between the ropes, just beating the count.] SR: Ah! Nothing like a bracing drink before getting back into the fray. [The Sandman is pretty battered up, and the referee is checking to see if he can continue. The Sandman is nodding his head, but the referee is looking concerned. Kowalski takes advantage of the distraction and goes over to the neutral corner. He begins to unlace the top turnbuckle pad. A large proportion of the audience jeers and shouts abuse at the referee, but many can be plainly heard cheering Kowalski's actions.] TD: Oh my goodness! Kowalski is unlacing the turnbuckle, he wants to bust the Sandman up further! Turn around referee! SR: Heh, heh, go Kowalski go! [The Sandman is getting to his feet with the assistance of the referee, unnoticed by Kowalski, who is still concentrating on the turnbuckle lacings. The Sandman begins staggering towards Kowalski, blood dripping from his forehead and staining the mat. The crowd grows anxious. Finally "the Fury" unfastens the padding and throws it aside, exposing the cold, hard, steel of the turnbuckle. He turns around, and is shocked to see the Sandman standing right behind him! Sandman immediately blasts Kowalski with a big elbow, then follows up with a series of roundhouse rights. The crowd goes crazy with a mixed pop as Kowalski staggers back against the corner groggily!] TD: Kowalski took far too long messing with that turnbuckle covering, doesn't he know how to unfasten a knot? SR: Well, Kowalski was'nt a member of the boy scouts, he was with the school of hard knocks. But either way, somebody is gonna get that steel upside their head and that's fine by me! [Sandman grabs Kowalski by the scruff of the neck and swings him backwards, before slamming his forehead into the exposed metal turnbuckle! Kowalski is staggers out of the corner and falls flat on his back. Big mixed pop! Kowalski now bears a nasty gash on his forehead, but the Sandman isn't done yet. He heaves "the Fury" over his shoulder and positions him on the second turnbuckle as if he were going to execute a superplex to the outside of the ring. That is not what the Sandman has in mind however...] TD: Oh my goodness! What is Sandman going to do next? SR: If you say "oh my goodness" one more time I assure you that something nasty will happen to _you_ next. [...he drops down from the turnbuckle to the arena floor, and as he does so slams Kowlalski's head into the steel with tremendous velocity! Shocked gasp from the audience! Kowalski bounds backwards from the force and lands flat on his back once again. Blood now flows freely from his forehead. Sandman wastes no time in getting back to the ring and goes to work on Kowalski's motionless body, dropping fists, knees and stomps.] TD: I can't believe what I have just seen! This isn't wrestling, it's legalized brutality! Stop the match at once referee! SR: Both men are being so brutal it's hard to know which one to cheer for more. They're both busted open, they're beating the snot out of each other, it's great! [Sandman palms Kowalski's face and drags him to his feet. The crowd gives a big mixed pop, realising that Sandman is going for his Nightmare Slam finisher. Blood from Kowlski's forehead runs over the Sandman's hand and he pauses as if to mock his vanquished opponent. Suddenly Kowalski claws at Sandman's hand and frantically tries to get it off his face. Sandman just laughs and locks his grip tighter. Just as Sandman appears set to execute the slam, Kowalski manages to grab one of his fingers and bends it back toward breaking point. Sandman lets out a yelp and backs off, giving Kowalski the chance to kick him in the groin. Sandman doubles up and groans.] SR: Heh, heh, you can never count a crafty rulebreaker like Kowlaski out of the running. TD: This is despicable. I don't believe we have even seen a pinfall attempt thus far, these men seem more interested in ripping chunks out of each other than climbing the rankings. [The referee gets in Kowalski's face about the illegality, and the rulebreaker shouts right back at him like a baseball player arguing a call. Kowalski shrugs the ref off and turns his attention back to the Sandman, backing the big masked man up with a flurry of fists. Kowalski keeps up the pummeling until the Sandman stumbles against the ropes and gets tangled up. Sandman struggles to free himself from the ropes while Kowalski dips into his trunks and pulls out the brass knucks. "The Fury" makes sure his back is to the referee as he slips the knucks onto his hand and pops Sandman right in the forehead! Big mixed pop from the fans! Kowalski whales Sandman a second time with the knucks and he falls through the ropes to the arena floor. Blood is now streaming profusely from the foreheads of both Kowalski and the Sandman.] TD: This is the bloodiest match I have seen in recent memory. The wrestlers are bleeding, the mat is stained red, there's even blood on the referee's shirt! SR: That's what you get when two maulers like Kowalski and the Sandman lock up -- maximum wrestling carnage! [Kowalski throws the knucks aside and drops down to the arena floor. Sandman staggers to his feet and the two begin swinging at each other again, this time considerably slower, both men taxed from the brutal brawling. The fight takes the brawlers over to the timekeepers table. Sandman grabs up the timekeepers bell and swings it at Kowalski's head, but the "Fury" manages to duck aside at the last moment and the foreign object strikes the timekeeper, knocking him cold! Ding!] TD: This match is completely out of control! And only last week our esteemed timekeeper was up at Spreadbury's office, asking for hazardous duty pay. Our President laughed him right out of the office, and now look what's happened to him! SR: Well, that old geezer has to earn his pay somehow. You call sitting in a chair ringing a bell occasionally a real job? [The brawl continues unabated, and suddenly the referee calls for the bell. Nobody is home to ring it, so the referee goes down to ringside and rings it himself. Ding! Ding! Ding!] TD: Well, the match is over, it looks like a double count-out. I have to say I'm glad, because neither of these men deserves to win. SR: After the fight they've just given us, they should both be awarded a win! Look at this though, I don't think they've even heard the bell, they're still going at it! RA: Here is your official decision, the outcome, as a result of a double count-out, a draw! [The Sandman and Steve Kowalski do not heed the decison, and pummel each other unabated. Suddenly Kowalski sends Sandman reeling with a headbutt and takes the opportunity to seize up a chair. Bang! the "Fury" waffles the masked man across the head, knocking him cold. Kowalski places the chair down on the floor and points over at Marty Warnett, yelling "this ones for you, punk!"] TD: This carnage must be stopped! Where the heck is the Jobber Justice Squad? SR: Heh, heh, it looks like they've chickened out of this one. [Kowalski hoists Sandman into position, and the jeers of the crowd grow deafening. Kowalski smirks at the response and executes his patented Skullpump, double-underhook piledriver, right onto the steel chair! Sandman is laid out motionless on the arena floor, blood streaming from his forehead. Steve Kowalski, satisfied with the carnage, wipes the blood from his own forehead and turns to leave ringside. He pauses at the foot of the aisle as he remembers Marty Warnett, and turns and spits on the IC champion. Marty leaps to his feet and lunges at Kowalski, but the official is able to restrain him. Kowalski laughs and heads on up the aisle to a tremendous heel pop.] TD: What a slobberknocker that match was -- and this next encounter looks set to be just as wild. The ancient art of boxing comes to the IIWF in just a few moments as the "Real Deal" Luke Steele goes up against Mr. Damage in a five-rounds boxing match. SR: Two grown men beating each others' brains out with loaded gloves. You gotta love it. TD: Who said anything about loaded gloves? SR: Oh, come on, Dross. It's the oldest trick in the book. TD: Perhaps so, but I'm sure that IIWF head referee Earl Alphonso will ensure fair play in this match. And Luke Steele will also be looking to play fair, too. Let's hear from him now: [Cut to footage subtitled, "Earlier This Week." Fade in on Luke Steele, doing pushups in a makeshift ring in the basement of his house. He finishes his reps, then jumps up as he notices the camera.] LS: Hey Baby Dolls, welcome to the Real Deal's training grounds. Many a night I'd be down here, sparring with various trainers, working out with the punching bags, or simply doing pushups. All that time was spent for one thing, preparation for becoming a pro wrestler. And here I am, contract in hand, at the door of the IIWF. Mr Damage, you've stepped over the line too many times, and I've returned here to train for our boxing match. I'll admit, the Real Deal doesn't have a vast background in this sport, but I'll draw on the fans, the skills, and the expertise of another Real Deal, the world champion of the Boxing World. So this Saturday Night, bring your boxing gloves, 'cause your' gonna take a KO in the face. And a quick message to Ronnie Paris -- I've stated that I'm sorry for getting you DQed, but don't push me or you're gonna get the Real Deal treatment as well. [Cut back to ringside.] TD: In this next contest, Steve, we're not going to see any dropkicks, headlocks, armdrag takedowns, bodyslams, hiptosses..... SR: Because Luke Steels is just that untalented. TD: No, because this is a special boxing match. SR: When did the IIWF become a boxing league anyway? TD: Don't you ever keep track on what is going on in the IIWF, Steve? Mr. Damage had challenged "Real Deal" to a boxing contest, and it's going to take place here, right now. SR: Whoopee. =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- BOXING MATCH: -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Mr. Damage vs. "Real Deal" Luke Steele -------------------------------------- WRITER: CS [Sparkplug Lee struggles a little with getting through the ropes but he finally make his way in, and begins to make his announcements.] RA: This next contest is a special five round boxing match. ["Black Cat" by Janet Jackson starts up to a good sized pop] First we have coming down to ringside, hailing from Cleveland, Ohio, weighing in at 275 lbs, seconded by his high school gym coach, here is "Real Deal" Luke Steele! [Luke Steele makes his way down to ringside with boxing gloves already on, making it hard for him to hi-five the fans as usual. He finally enters the ring and gets a last-minute pep talk from his coach. Then the PA speakers play "I Hate People" by New Bomb Turks, drawing a large heel pop from the crowd.] RA: His opponent, about to make his way down to ringside, he is from Melbourne, Australia and weighs in at 245lbs, accompanied by Australia's World Boxing Champion David Fenech, here is Mr. Damage. [Damage comes down to ringside with Fenech at his side. Damage only has one boxing glove on, as the other hand appears to be tied behind his back. This draws an even more negative heel reaction.] TD: I guess Damage wasn't kidding, Steve -- he really does intend to face Steele with one arm tied behind his back. SR: You only need feet to kick someone's ass, Dross. TD: In a boxing match? SR: Sure. [Damage finally enter the ring and grabs the microphone.] MD: Shut up! [directed towards the growing heel pop] Tonight I will prove to all you morons, and you, Steele, you young future nobody, that I can beat you with one hand tied behind my back. [The ref starts to argue with Damage but finally agrees and brings both men to the center for the last minute words. With that they return to their corners and Luke Steele comes charging out at Mr. Damage. Damage, with only one hand free, has much trouble trying to hold the kid back and receives several blows to the head. Steele then fires one good hard shot that send Damage to the mat. The ref begins to administer a count - 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - and Damage finally returns fully to his feet and prepares to resume. Damage then tries to stay away from Steele as much as possible and every so often throws a punch to keep Steele at bay. Damage then really loads up and waffles out a shot but Steele ducks and fires several rapid shots to the now open chest area. Steele then fires a huge uppercut on the chin which sends Damage to the canvas once more. The count starts up and Damage gets to his feet at about the seven count, but with very rubbery legs. Fenech on the outside seems very upset at how his man is being manhandled.] TD: Mr. Damage has to be wishing he never tried to show off by tying a hand behind his back. Steele has been clobbering him. SR: Dross, Damage is just playing possum. The next round will be his. TD: Well, one more knock down in this round and it's over. [Damage goes back to the strategy of staying away from Steele, and the "Real Deal" suddenly comes in charging and backs the Aussie into a corner, flailing away. This pounding leads to a cut near Damage's right eye, and once again Damage staggers out, his legs clearly becoming increasingly wobbly. Steele seems to be going for the kill but the bell rings.] TD: That must be it for round one. Damage was saved by the bell right there. SR: Watch Damage embarrass Steele in round two. TD: Watch Damage beg for another boxing glove and box the right way, more like. [Fenech begins to try and clear up the now bloodied face of Damage. Fenech tries to provide some pointers, but Damage seems not to pay attention, preferring instead to trash talk Steele. Steele, on the other hand, doesn't listen to Damage, but takes pointers from his coach. The bell then signals the start of round two and Steele comes flying for Damage once again. Levelling the Aussie with monsterous blows, Steele backs Mr. Damage into a corner, where several shots are landed on the chest and head, due to the Antipodean athlete being unable to protect himself with just one hand. When it seems all is done for Mr. Damage, he then sneaks a knee into the groin of Steele which sends the youngster back several steps. Damage then takes advantage of this and lands a few punches on the kid.] SR: Brilliant. When you can't do it fairly then break some rules. TD: Gee, what a good role model you make, Steve. [Damage's offense doesn't last long as Steele composes himself once more and begins to block the shots easily, since he only has one hand to worry about. After blocking several shots Steele begins to fire back and connects with almost every shot. The blood from Damage's cut begins to flow more freely as blow after blow opens up the wound further. Damage begins to stagger, attempting to avoid Steele, and finally the bell begins to ring to signal another round coming to an end.] TD: The ref should stop this match right now. Damage is just being clobbered out there. What is the man trying to prove?! SR: That he is twice the man that punk kid is. TD: He can prove it with two gloves instead of one. This is a joke. SR: Hey, Dross, is that your hair stinking out the joint again? TD: Hey, I smell it this time too. SR: You really should get that thing washed. TD: It's not my hair, Steve. It smells like a chemical of some kind... SR: Why would we smell that? [Luke Steele gets pats of encouragement from his second and some more advice on how to end the match. Damage once again trash talks Steele while Fenech seems to be rubbing a towel across his glove.] TD: What's Fenech doing? SR: Rubbing Mr. Damage's glove for good luck. [The thrid round begins, and Steele charges in again but Damage prances around the ring. Damage then backs up against his corner where Fenech unties his arm. From there Damage takes his free arm to hold Steele's head and shoves the glove in the "Real Deal"'s face. Within moments, Steele slumps to the mat. Damage then begins to lay the boots into Steele, which has the referee calling for the bell. Ding! Ding! Ding!] RA: The winner of this match, as the result of a disqualification, the "Real Deal" Luke Steele! TD: There's the answer to that strange smell -- it was chloroform and not my hair. SR: I still think it's your hair, Dross. [Damage lays the boots viciously into the unconcsious Steele, until the official tries to intervene. Damage then grabs the ref and shoves the glove into his face also, quickly knocking him out. Damage continues to beat on Steele until the coach jumps the ring and grabs Damage. The old man is no trouble for Damage, who gives the coach a whiff of the glove which blanks him out. Seeing that he has done the job, Damage raises his gloved hand to a deafening heel pop and leaves the ring with Dave Fenech.] TD: This is terrible! Damage will pay for this. SR: Each week I begin to love this guy more and more. First he goes out and tries to end Kauffman's career, then he kidnaps Melody and now he doesn't only lay out Steele, but also the ref and his lousy coach. I love it! TD: I'm sure that the IIWF President will have some words to say to Mr. Damage come Monday morning following that display... And I understand that Larry Morton is backstage with the President at this moment. Larry? [Cut to backstage. Larry Morton stands in the locker room area with the IIWF President.] LM: Thanks, Tim. Mr. President, it's absolute chaos here in the Coliseum tonight -- we've just seen Mr. Damage chloroform not only Luke Steele, but also Steele's second, _and_ an IIWF official. Not only that, but earlier tonight, the IIWF World Tag Team Champions, the Zodiac Connection, were jumped by the Dark Disciples without any provocation. Your thoughts? DS: One thing at a time, Larry. First of all, the attack on the Zodiac Connection. I have spoken to all the parties involved since that unfortunate incident earlier this evening, and the Zodiac Connection feel that they owe it to their fans to accept the challenge of the Dark Disciples. Although I have offered them the choice of turning down the challenge, Scorpio and Taurus have decided that they will indeed wrestle the Dark Disciples here tonight a little later on. LM: With all due respect, Mr. President, surely that's suicide for the Zodiacs after the beating they took earlier on tonight? DS: As I said, Larry, it was their choice. The match is signed, and will go down later tonight. Now, with regard to Mr. Damage, I assure you that the IIWF's Disciplinary Committee will be reviewing his actions tonight early next week, and the appropriate action will be taken. I refuse to comment any more at this stage. LM: Of course. Mr. President, Ring Wars III is now only four weeks away: do you have any further news on matches we will be seeing at this great event? DS: Negotiations are currently well-advanced to sign a number of other matches to take place in the Toronto Skydome on March 22. I can reveal tonight that the winner of the Zodiac Connection/Dark Disciples match later on will defend the IIWF World Tag Team Championship against Domination at Ring Wars III, and as I mentioned last week, there will indeed be a Wild Card eight man tag team elimination match added to the card. One team will be captained by Otto "the Butcher" Verhoeven, who will be partnered with Mr. Damage, "Real Deal" Luke Steele and the Hangman to take on the team of Ronnie Paris, the American Patriot, Stud Stetson and Randy Acorn. LM: That's a pretty explosive mixture of athletes right there, Mr. President. DS: It certainly is, Larry. I have one more announcement to make tonight with regard to Ring Wars III: the Skydome will be the scene for a Falls Count Anywhere match between Creed and Mad Dog Watkins. TD: In just a minute, we'll finally see who Joe Petrow's got lined up to team with him in this next tag team tournament matchup against G.W.R., and I've gotta tell you the truth here, I don't think he's got _anybody_ to team with. SR: I'm sure he does Dross, someone of great technique, great fortitude, great moral fiber... TD: No, I think Petrow wants someone who matches his style. Let's get comments from G.W.R., who must be more than a little apprehensive going into this bout not knowing who half of their opponents will be... [Cut to footage subtitled, "Earlier Tonight." As Loco and Spoiler are walking into the arena, Steve Summer catches up with them...] SS: Gentlemen... Any thoughts on tonight's match? Spoiler: Yeah, lots. For a start we've got Petrow, couple of coconuts past the fruit loop horizon, true, but a great wrestler nonetheless. Then you've got whoever he's tagging with. The only thing we know about them is that a lot further past the fruit loop horizon. After all, they're tagging up with him. SS: How do you think you'll cope with someone like Petrow? Spoiler: Same way we cope with everyone else. SS: Don't you think his style and reputation... Spoiler: [interrupting] His reputation is as a singles wrestler. This is tag wrestling and, even if he wants to call himself the former world tag champs or some such, it's a totally different ball game. Tonight, we're not playing his game, he's playing ours. And our game has its own rules... [Spoiler and Loco head out of frame. Cut back to the announcers' table.] TD: Let's get back up to the ring. =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- IIWF UNITED STATES TAG TEAM CHAMPIONSHIP TOURNAMENT MATCH: -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= G.W.R. vs. Joe Petrow & Mystery Partner ---------------------------------------------------------- WRITER: NN [Sparkplug Lee takes centre ring once more.] RA: Ladies and gentlemen, the following tag team contest is set for one fall, and is first round action in the IIWF United States Tag Team Title Tournament! [Pop!] Introducing first, from unknown parts... at a total combined weight of 545... Loco, Spoiler, here is the team of G.W.R.! [Spoiler, clad in his full length black tights with locomotive pictures on the side, appears through the curtain. He raises his arms to the crowd and receives a big pop. Loco, wearing the same outfit comes through next, and finally, General Kane and their massive masked bodyguard shows up. The crowd cheers the two men as they jog down to the ring, looking around in fear.] SR: These guys are scared of Joe Petrow! TD: I think they're expecting to be jumped from behind... "Sychosys" has a knack for that sort of thing. SR: Heh. He really does... what a guy. TD: Well, we don't know _who_ Petrow's partner will be, but we do know who else has advanced in this tournament. The Prophets of Rage kicked it off by defeating the Armed Forces, and the Harlequins, Chaos and Tragedy got a win over the High Plains Drifters in preliminary action as well. SR: There's two former world tag champs bein' knocked out in the first round by teams that haven't wrestled all that many tag matches here in the IIWF. Now, we all know why the Forces lost, but I think that the Drifters threw their match. Just like Wales said, why would they fight through four grueling matches only to be awarded the title of second best? TD: I don't think the teams in the tournament feel that they're competing for "second best", Roberts. SR: Well, like I was saying about the Armed Forces, they've been screwed ever since they got rid of Aaron the Caddy... and as far as I'm concerned, they can retire. I wouldn't miss them one bit. TD: I think that the Forces have been very admirable people as of late here in the IIWF. SR: Are they getting the wins? NO. Do they have the titles? NO. They met both of those criteria before they ditched their manager. TD: Let's get back to the ring. RA: And their... first opponent... is from Tokyo, Japan. He tips the scales at 227 pounds... here is "Sychosys" Joe Petrow! [Sychosys comes down to ringside alone, to "Digging in the Dirt" by Peter Gabriel. He wears red morphing into yellow on the bottom airbrushed pant length trunks, with "Team" on one pant leg and "Sychosys" on the other in blocky, jagged letters. He stops along the way to plant a big, slobbery kiss on a fat female Sychopath near ringside. He steps into the ring and grabs the microphone.] JP: Already everybody! Even though I already outnumber you guys with me myself and I, President Spreadbury said he'd oust my arse if I didn't get another person to come into this match with me. So I got me one of the hottest wrestlers in the IIWF today, and a man who I know won't cramp my style! Some people call him the space cowboy, some people call him the gangster of love, but most people call him Majestic Maurice McArthur! TD: [over the headset] No way... he's gotta be... Oh my goodness. ["The Joker" by The Steve Miller Band plays, as Triple M makes his way to ringside. He is wearing tights that match Petrow's, and is acting like... well, acting like Majestic Maurice McArthur. As he makes his way into the ring, he and Petrow can be overheard plotting the following strategy:] JP: Now you remember what you're supposed to do, right? 3M: Hold the tag rope steady? JP: Right! Now let's get 'em! SR: I can't believe it! What an outstanding choice for a tag team partner, Dross! Triple M is feared across the globe as a fierce competitor! TD: Yeah, sure. SR: Well, he _was_ scheduled to tag with El Super Gecko on the Free For All against the Barnacle Brothers, but now it looks as if he may have other plans. These two have to be favorites to make the finals of the tourney now! TD: I did like that pun about Majestic Maurice McArthur, though. You _did_ understand it didn't you? SR: Of course, Dross... I understand everything. In fact, I knew who the partner was going to be all along. TD: Sure. Well, for Steve's benefit and anyone else who doesn't understand, the lyrics of the song "Joker" by the Steve Miller Band, a favorite group of mine, state the part about the space cowboy and the gangster of love, and then it says... SR: "Really like your peaches, wanna shake your tree!" TD: Um, no thanks, maybe Ms. Larue would be interested in that. Well, the song says, "some people call me Maurice", and therefore, Triple M. SR: Duh. RA: Ladies and gentlemen, this is the team of "Sychosys" Joe Petrow and Majestic Maurice McArthur! [A big heel pop is mixed in with some more laughing from the crowd. The bell sounds. Petrow starts in the ring with Loco. The two men lock up.] TD: And we're finally underway! [With McArthur offering a little bit of moral support from the outside, Petrow is able to apply a standing side headlock on the shorter, but heavier man. Loco is quickly out of the headlock, and twists Petrow's arm.] SR: Maurice is doing his job, Dross. He's got a firm grip on that rope. TD: I don't think Petrow is going to get away with a win tonight with out the use of his partner. SR: I don't think he'll win if the Majestic One gets into the ring, do you? TD: Well, you may be right. Team Sychosys is just screwed over backwards. [Petrow gets dragged into G.W.R.'s corner, and the tag goes to Spoiler. Spoiler leaps quickly to the top rope, and comes down with a chop across the wound up arm of Sychosys. Spoiler then goes to a full arm-drag-and-twist. General Kane offers encouragement from the outside, and Spoiler converts the move into an arm drag takedown. Pop!] TD: Petrow, all by himself essentially, is in trouble in that ring. I don't know if he's going to get out of that corner. SR: He's alright, don't panic. TD: I certainly wasn't panicking, I don't want _Petrow_ to win! SR: Whatever happened to impartiality, Dross?! [Petrow works his way back to his feet, and whips Spoiler into the ropes. Spoiler reaches out and touches the hand of Loco, who jumps into the ring. Joe swings at Spoiler and misses a clothesline, turning his back to Loco. Spoiler comes off the other end with a cross body block - but is caught by Petrow! Petrow, however, is quickly on his back as Loco dives and clips him out at the knee! Spoiler hooks the leg - 1 - 2 - kickout!] TD: Great teamwork by G.W.R., and they almost ejected Petrow and Three M from the tournament! SR: Sure, two seconds is a lot less than three, Dross. [Spoiler leaves the ring, after sending a friendly word toward McArthur. Petrow gets back to his feet, but is taken down by a quick flying clothesline from Loco, who covers - 1 - 2 - kickout. Loco drags Petrow back up and swings him to the ropes. Spoiler lifts a knee, hitting Petrow in the back, to a hearty pop. Petrow holds his back, just in time to be leveled by a DDT! Big pop! Loco covers - 1 - 2 - Petrow's arm is under the bottom rope.] SR: Idiot. Doesn't he know that he's got to get his man away from the ropes before covering? [Petrow gets back to his feet and is nailed by the big right hand of Loco. Petrow reels against the ropes, but then bounces back and rocks the opponent with a forearm to the face. Loco reels back, and is taken down by a clothesline. Petrow is quick to drop on Loco's arm with a knee. Loco shrieks in pain, and General Kane begins barking out orders. Loco gets dragged back to his feet and bodyslammed immediately. Petrow covers - 1 - 2 - kickout.] SR: See, Dross? I knew that Petrow would be the bad boy today. [Loco crawls to the corner and tags to Spoiler. Spoiler slingshots himself over the top rope into the ring, but is caught and powerslammed out of midair. Cover - 1 - 2 - Loco makes the save on his way out of the ring. Petrow gets up and ejects Loco from the ring with a shoulder. Spoiler gets back up and runs in with a dropkick, but Petrow steps to the side and Spoiler hits the mat hard.] TD: G.W.R. isn't looking very good right now. Certainly they're not at the form they were when they defeated the Armed Forces -- even if it did take a bag full of clubs... SR: Yeah, but the Forces have been easy prey lately... the losers. [Petrow is quick to slap on a Boston Crab. Spoiler fights to get toward the ropes, but cannot make it. Loco hops back onto the apron and comes after Petrow, but is cut off by the ref. Petrow seizes the opportunity and drags Spoiler, by the hair, to the bottom rope. He chokes his opponent across the rope, behind the ref's back, and then drops him on his stomach. He rolls the man over and hooks him into some funky leglock.] TD: I believe he calls this hold the figure five. An interesting one, no doubt. SR: Petrow's such a technician. TD: Sure. I liked that textbook choke across the bottom rope. SR: It worked. Now notice how he's keeping Spoiler away from the corner, trying to make this a singles match. [Spoiler reaches up and grabs the bottom rope, which is placed right next to his head.] TD: Looks like he kept him _too_ far from his own corner. [Petrow relinquishes the hold after the ref counts to five twice, then drops a leg across Spoiler's chest - 1 - 2 - kickout! Petrow snaps him back up, and whips him to the ropes. Spoiler comes back off and tries to side step, but is caught by a huge spinebuster.] SR: He usually does that on the guard rail, but this should take care of it... he does it so much better than Kauffman does. [Petrow is slow to cover - 1 - 2 - kickout! Petrow begins stomping around the ring, angry about the "slow count".] TD: Ha! You snooze you lose... and Petrow just showed off and shafted himself out of a victory! [Spoiler gets back to his feet again, and is met by a shot to his midsection. Petrow steps over and hooks him for a piledriver... but can't execute. Spoiler returns fire with a back body drop which lays out Petrow! Pop!] SR: No! TD: Look out, Spoiler's got a chance here... SR: He better not get that tag! [Spoiler makes no effort to tag. Instead, he uses his second wind to attack Petrow further, stomping away on Sychosys. McArthur looks worried as Spoiler executes a backbreaker. Pop! The crowd begins to chant "G - W - R! G - W - R!"] SR: C'mon, Joe... get up... TD: It looks like the end of the line for Joe Petrow... [Spoiler begins to pepper Petrow with a series of European Uppercuts. Petrow reels in the corner, and Spoiler begins motioning to the crowd, making his fingers go one over another in a circle. The crowd gets to its feet as Spoiler swings Petrow to the ropes. He goes for his Frankensteiner, but is headbutted in the groin by Petrow! Spoiler slumps to the mat. Big heel pop!] TD: What a despicable act... disqualify that man! SR: It was accidental, Dross, come on now... do you really think that Petrow would cheat? [Loco, angered by the cheap shot, storms the ring. The referee cuts him off and forces him to head back to his corner. As Loco turns around, however, Petrow helps him out with a superkick to the back of the head. Loco falls out to the floor! Big heel pop. Spoiler gets to his feet behind him, and tries to swing Petrow into the buckle, but Sychosys reverses it and sends Spoiler into Petrow's corner. McArthur knocks head with Spoiler, who slumps to the mat. McArthur falls to the floor. Petrow smiles gleefully.] SR: Finish him, Joe! TD: This is awful... Kane's got to get some life back into Loco. [General Kane and the bodyguard drag Loco back to his feet. In the meantime, Petrow snaps up Spoiler and heads around to his backside. He ducks and lifts Spoiler up onto his shoulders. The crowd hangs on its seat as Petrow walks toward the turnbuckle. Loco gets directed as to the action in the ring by General Kane.] SR: It's over... what is he doing though? [Petrow grabs the feet of Spoiler, and throws him back to the canvas, as if Spoiler was clotheslined by an opponent.] SR: Ha! He simulated a clothesline! [Petrow covers - 1 - Loco drags himself back to the apron - 2 - Loco lunges - 3!] RA: The winner of the match, and US Tag Title Tournament quarter- finalists... Joe Petrow and Majestic Maurice McArthur!!! [A big heel pop for Petrow, who picks McArthur up off the ground. He helps McArthur out, saying, "We did it, baby!"] TD: What a joke. SR: What a win for the team of Petrow and Three M, Dross. Great tag team continuity throughout. TD: Whatever. Up next we have what is set to become a highly-charged match: Creed takes on Marty Warnett in a non-title matchup. And from what we've seen, Steve, Creed's far from happy with the drug abuse allegations from Warnett. SR: Creed's gonna wipe that little puke's smile right off his face. Trust me. TD: Then of course there's the presence of Mad Dog Watkins in the stands. Creed appears to have some sort of interest in Watkins, so it will be interesting to see what his reaction is. SR: Simple, Dross. He admires Watkins. Everyone wants to be like the Mad Dog. TD: I'm sure he'd be gratified to hear that, Steve. Let's get back up to the ring. =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Marty Warnett vs. Creed =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= WRITER: MP [Sparkplug Lee steps into the ring once more.] RA: The following non-title contest is scheduled for one fall, with a thirty-minute time limit. Introducing first, accompanied to the ring by the CEO Jack York Montgomery, weighing in at 275lbs and hailing from Parts Unknowable, here is... Crrrreeeeeeeeeeed! [Apprehensive crowd pop as the lights dim and Creed's voice chants "Anyone, Anytime, Anywhere" over the PA system. The fourth movement of Beethoven's Ninth Symphony begins, and Creed steps out into the aisle, preceded by the CEO. Big crowd pop!] TD: Creed seems to have built up quite a fan following in recent weeks. SR: Who cares? It's not as though he needs them... [The pair walk past Watkins on the way to the ring, who is applauding sarcastically. Creed glances once at him as he walks past, the CEO stops to have words.] TD: I'd really like to know what's being said over there... [Creed steps into the ring, raising his gloved left fist in the air to another crowd pop, the lights come back on, and the music slowly fades out.] RA: And his opponent, weighing in at 245lbs and hailing from Cardiff, Wales in the United Kingdom, here is the current IIWF Intercontinental Champion, Maarty Waaaarrrrrnnneeeeeeeett! [Big crowd pop as "Cold Gin" by Kiss starts up over the PA system, and Marty Warnett steps into the aisle, with the Intercontinental title around his waist. He walks quickly down the aisle, slapping the fan's hands as he goes.] TD: Warnett's looking something like his old self here today.. SR: Yeah. A loser. But then again, what's new? [Warnett walks around ringside, high fiving the fans, and steps up to one of the ringside cameramen..] MW: Montgomery, tonight there's gonna be a Stock Market crash! TD: Warnett is fired up for this one! SR: For all the good it'll do him. I tell you, Dross, Warnett is going to be drinking tomorrow's lunch through a straw after Creed smashes him with those big left hands. Bam! Bam! TD: Okay, I think we get the picture... [Warnett leaps up to the ring apron and vaults into the ring, pointing at Creed, who stands motionless in his corner. The bell rings for the start of the match, and both men eye each other up and down, before locking up collar and elbow... and Creed throws Warnett off, sending him flying backwards into the turnbuckles! Big pop! Warnett shakes his head, and slowly steps forward to lock up again...] TD: Creed showing us that immense strength of his here... Warnett will want to avoid going toe-to-toe with this man as much as possible... [Both men move to lock up again, and Warnett slips under the big man's arms, turns, and catches him with a dropkick in the back that sends Creed face first into the turnbuckles! Big pop! Creed staggers back out, and Warnett rolls him up - 1 - easy kickout by Creed. Creed rolls to his feet, and is quickly caught with an armdrag by Warnett! Warnett wastes no time in winching the hold on tight, and Creed stays down for a second before rolling over to his knees...] TD: And now we have Warnett showing his speed and quickness. SR: All it takes is one good left hand. Bam. [Creed pushes himself up, and Warnett twists his arm around, before sending him back down to the canvas in a fireman's carry. Creed rolls with it, and Warnett twists the hold into a hammerlock, before dropping a knee down across the exposed biceps Creed pushes himself back to his feet again, and backs Warnett into the ropes... the referee calls for the clean break, and both men step away... Creed turns, and is met by another dropkick from Warnett! Creed springs back to his feet, and Warnett takes him to the mat again with another armdrag! Big pop!] TD: Warnett is resisting all of Creed's efforts to slow the pace of the match down here, and is keeping the bigger man off his feet. [Creed pushes himself back to a vertical base again, and Warnett twists his arm around again, and starts slamming elbow after elbow onto the exposed arm... Creed straightens up, reverses the armwringer, and pulls Warnett towards him with force, catching him with a modified short-arm clothesline that almost takes his head off...] SR: What did I say? Huh? Warnett is outta here... [Creed wastes no time, pulling Warnett back to his feet and slipping him into a facelock. Creed raises his gloved left fist in the air, and pounds Warnett down to the canvas before pulling the facelock on tight.] TD: And just like that, Creed has changed the course of the match. Warnett's going to have real difficulty countering Creed's strength if he doesn't break out of this quickly... [Warnett manages to get both knees underneath him, and pushes himself up, firing punches into Creed's midsection. Creed quickly responds with an elbow to the back of the neck, then by throwing Warnett back into the corner, and finally starts unloading with a series of body blows.] TD: Creed seems content to keep this match at a brawl. SR: Easiest way to take care of a puke like Warnett. Split his pretty boy nose open, and watch him cry. [Creed attempts to flip Warnett out of the corner with a hiptoss, but Warnett reverses it, sending Creed crashing to the canvas! Big pop! Warnett runs in for an elbowdrop, and Creed rolls out of the way at the last second!] TD: No... Marty was getting way too fired up there. And Creed is right back in control. [Creed pulls Warnett back to his feet by the hair, and whips him hard into the ropes. Creed attempt a clothesline on the rebound, Warnett ducks, and then stops himself by catching hold of the ropes. Creed charges...] TD: Oh my! Did you see that! Creed just clotheslined Warnett with enough force to send both of them flying out of the ring! SR: Warnett got the worst of it, Dross, I'm telling you Warnett got the worst.. TD: He looks hurt. [Creed landed on the mats near Mad Dog Watkins, who immediately stands up and starts to shout at him. Creed staggers to one knee, and Watkins leans over the barriers, slaps him in the face and points across at Warnett, yelling at him to finish the job. Creed glowers at Watkins, then pushes himself up and walks over to Warnett.] TD: Oh no... Creed setting Warnett up for an Irish whip... right into the crash barriers! [Creed chokes Warnett over the top of the crash barrier, while Watkins yells encouragement, grinning. Creed picks Warnett back to his feet and slams him down on the concrete, before rolling back into the ring to break the count.] TD: Warnett's in big trouble here. He took some heavy blows there from Creed... [Creed rolls back outside, and picks Warnett up again, this time sending him smashing into the Spanish announcer's table.] SR: Well, there goes most of our European coverage... TD: Creed is acting like a man possessed. This may be one of the most destructive forces in the IIWF right here. [Creed rolls Warnett back into the ring, and follows him in, making the cover - 1 - 2 - kickout by Warnett! Huge crowd pop! Creed picks Warnett back to his feet, and locks on another facelock... the referee asks Warnett for the submission, and Warnett yells out in the negative, so Creed piles on the pressure, and Warnett sinks to his knees.] SR: Aw. All tied up. Nowhere to go... TD: This is good thinking by Creed here, he's got Warnett tied up in a position where he can bring all his strength to bear. [Creed pushes down on Warnett's head hard, focusing all his strength on Warnett's neck, and Warnett's arms begin to sag... the referee check his arm, but Warnett waves him off angrily.] TD: Warnett had better find a way out of this hold soon, or he'll find himself in serious trouble... [Warnett slowly and painfully manages to force himself back to a vertical base, and swings an elbow into Creed's midsection and another.] SR: Oh come on. That's like trying to elbow your way through a brick wall. [Warnett elbows Creed again, and then stamps on his feet and rakes the face. Creed staggers back, and Warnett runs to the ropes, coming back with a cross body block...] TD: Creed caught him in mid-air! What a display of strength! [Creed hold Warnett up for a second, then slams him down across his knee in a backbreaker! Big crowd pop! He makes the cover... 1 - 2 - Warnett kicks out! Creed rolls Warnett over, and sits down with a reverse chinlock...] TD: Another submission hold from Creed. These moves must really be taking the fight out of Warnett now... [Once again the referee checks Warnett for the submission, and once again the reply is in the negative. Warnett struggles, and reaches out for the ropes, which are only inches away from his grasp... there's a big heel pop from the entrance aisle as Lord Byron strolls down towards ringside...] TD: Here comes more trouble... hold on! Watkins just leaped out of the stands! He's confronting Byron! [Watkins blocks Byron's path, and Byron sneers, attempting to walk past, only to be shoved back by Watkins. Byron sneers again, and holds out his arms in a mock bow, before backing off up the aisle, keeping his eye on Watkins the whole way.] TD: That was a strange encounter, if I ever saw one. SR: Why'd he stop him? The way I see it, the more people beating on Warnett, the better... [Back in the ring, Creed pulls back on the hold hard, and Warnett slumps back to the canvas. The referee checks with him again, and Warnett starts fighting, pushing his knees under him and reaching forward, fingertips grazing the ring ropes. Creed tries to keep him back, but Warnett makes one more attempt, and catches hold of the bottom rope! Big pop! The referee forces Creed to break the hold. Creed picks Warnett back up, and Warnett fires a shot into his midsection. Creed responds with a headbutt, and then Irish whips Warnett into the ropes. Creed puts his head down, Warnett leaps over, Creed tries a clothesline, Warnett ducks, Creed turns...] TD: Kick to the midsection by Warnett! And a DDT out of nowhere! Creed is down! [Both men stay down on the canvas, the effort apparently having exhausted Warnett. Creed starts to recover, and Warnett pushes himself up at roughly the same time.] TD: Creed advancing on Warnett now... Warnett with a dropkick! Creed staggers back.. [Creed advances on Warnett again, and Warnett catches in a front waistlock, before flipping him over with a Northern Lights suplex, bridging for the pin... the referee makes the count... 1 - 2 - Creed powers out of it, and sits up... Warnett flips over his head, snapping his head into the canvas and then covers, hooking the leg - 1 - 2 - kickout by Creed! Warnett picks Creed up to his feet, and hooks him into position for a piledriver... Warnett lifts him into position, and sends him crashing down to the canvas! Big crowd pop! Warnett points to the top rope, steps to the outside, and begins climbing the turnbuckles... there's another huge heel pop as the Sandman appears at the head of the aisle...] TD: Here comes another distraction... and Watkins is ignoring him? [Warnett spots the Sandman at the top of the aisle, who is motioning to his waist, taunting the Intercontinental champion. Creed staggers to his feet in the ring, and advances on Warnett, who is still perched on the top turnbuckle. Warnett points across at the Sandman, then at points at his arm, and leaps over Creed, landing behind him and slapping on a sleeperhold! Big crowd pop! Creed staggers backwards as Warnett leaps up onto his back, cinching the hold in tight...the Sandman shouts a warning at Warnett, then disappears back into the dressing room area... ] TD: Warnett has that sleeperhold locked in well, and Creed looks as though he's in trouble here... SR: Not a chance... [Huge crowd pop as Creed slumps down to one knee! The referee checks Creed's hand... Creed instantly springs back into life, lifting Warnett up and charges back into the corner, smashing him once, twice, three times into the turnbuckles, and Warnett drops off. Creed staggers forward, and then turns, charging back at Warnett, who raises his knees just a split second before Creed hits him! Big pop! Creed staggers around, and Warnett runs out of the corner, slamming Creed face first to the canvas with a bulldog! Warnett slowly rolls him over and hooks the leg... 1 - 2 - kickout by Creed! Warnett shakes his head in disbelief, and picks Creed back up to his feet, who nails him with a European uppercut, then with a knee lift that sends him staggering into the ropes...] TD: This match has gone back and forth, back and forth... both men are struggling to take the advantage now! Incredible! [Creed nails Warnett with another European uppercut, and sends him hard into the ropes...] TD: Double clothesline! Both men are down! SR: That's it get up Creed! Trash this punk! [Both men start to recover at the same time again, and Creed manages to get to his feet first, and staggers across to Warnett, who meets him with a headbutt to the midsection, then sends him back down to the canvas with a spinning neckbreaker! Warnett raises his hand again, and heads up to the top rope...] TD: Both men are looking very tired now. Creed's starting to get to his feet... [Warnett reaches the top turnbuckle, and waits as Creed staggers to his feet and starts to turn around...] TD: Warnett from the top with a cross body block... NO! SR: Oh... my... [Huge crowd pop as Creed catches Warnett by the throat in mid-air with his gloved left hand, and twist around, driving warnett into the canvas with a chokeslam that is heard all the way around the arena... Creed drops down on top of Warnett, hooking the leg... the referee counts... 1 - 2 - 3! Ding! Ding! Ding!] TD: Creed... Creed gets the victory over Warnett, with one of the most devastating moves I have seen in my career. SR: Warnett is not moving in there, Dross, he's not moving! RA: The winner of this match, via pinfall.. Crreeeeed! [Creed rises up to his feet, holding his gloved left fist high in the air and starting out directly at Mad Dog Watkins... the referee checks on Warnett, who manages to roll out of the ring. Creed walks across to the ropes, leaps between them and to the arena floor, approaching the announcer's table. Creed, the perspiration now streaming from his ebony skin, approaches the microphone. A palpable buzz goes through the IIWF Coliseum as the rookie warrior prepares to make his first ever statement in the IIWF:] Creed: My name is Creed... and I have something to say. [Big Pop!] I have worked my entire life for only one thing, to stand in the finest wrestling federation and be recognised as the greatest professional wrestler in the entire world. [Pop!] But right now -- there's something I gotta do. Mad Dog Watkins -- you belong to me. Whether it's in the parking lot, or the concession stand, or in the middle of all these people [points to the fans] or right here in this ring -- I am gonna prove to you who the only lead dog is here in the IIWF! You are done, Old Dog, you are done. [Creed drops the mic to a big pop walks with the CEO up the aisle, bathed in his red spotlight while his trademark words: "Anyone... Anywhere... Anytime!" ring throughout the arena.] TD: Wow! Creed with an impressive victory, and an even more impressive challenge here as well! Creed wants the Mad Dog, and he wants him bad -- and at Ring Wars III, as we found out earlier tonight, he'll get his wish, in a wild Falls Count Anywhere brawl! SR: Yeah! I can hardly wait, Dross. TD: Don't forget, folks, pick up that phone and order Ring Wars III now -- coming your way March 22 from the Toronto Skydome. One of the other incredible matches will see Domination challenge the IIWF World Tag Team Champions for the belts -- and the champions could be either of the two teams about to lock it up here tonight. =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= IIWF WORLD TAG TEAM CHAMPIONSHIP MATCH: =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Zodiac Connection vs. Dark Disciples --------------------------------------- WRITER: DK [Sparkplug Lee steps into the ring once more.] SL: The following contest is an unscheduled challenge return match, and it is for the IIWF World Tag team Championship! Introducing first, led to the ring by "Big Bucks" Don McQueen [Heel pop at the announcement of his name], at a combined weight of 615 pounds, Kane, Wulf, THE DARK DISCIPLES! [Kane and Wulf appear all business-like at the head of the aisle, the goal of winning back the titles clearly at the forefront of their minds. McQueen shows no emotion, as he leads his men to the ring.] TD: The Dark Disciples aren't wasting any time getting to the ring, Steve. They obviously want the tag titles back in a bad way. SR: Well, if the Zodiacs had defeated you from out of the blue last week, you'd want to get a little piece of them too! What an attack the Disciples used against the Zodiacs earlier! I guarantee you that the Zodiacs can't possibly be in good enough shape to be a threat to the Disciples' title hopes. TD: The Zodiacs had a lot taken out of them earlier, but this is a resilient team, Steve. They've shocked us once, and they could do it again. SR: If they do, I'll eat my shorts! [The fans start to cheer loudly as "East 1999" starts to play... the pop gradually builds to a fever pitch!] SL: And their opponents, the reigning IIWF World Tag Team Champions... at a combined weight of 575 pounds... Scorpio, Taurus, THE ZODIAC CONNECTION! [The pop continues as the Zodiacs appear. They are a little worse for wear due to the earlier beating, but their spirits are high, and they rush the ring heading straight for the Disciples!] TD: Oh boy, we've got a war on our hands! [The two teams meet in centre-ring with a vengeange, the Zodiacs looking to avenge the earlier attack on them, and the Disciples wanting their championship back! All four men start throwing punches as fast as they can, and eventually, Scorpio and Kane tear off into a corner while Taurus and Wulf back into the other. Kane quickly powers Scorpio around and throws stinging shots into his midsection, while Wulf heaves the bug Taurus over the top rope to a loud heel pop! Wulf and Kane team up on Scorpio, whipping him off the ropes, but Scorp ducks a double- clothesline and issues one of his own, amazingly dropping both men to the canvas! Huge pop!] SR: How's that for luck?! These Zodiacs are unreal! TD: But Scorpio better be careful... He's got two mad Disciples looking right at him! [The Disciples quickly rise, and Scorpio, realizing that he's in a tight situation, slides underneath the two and outside the ring, then quickly slides back in with the rising Taurus! The move only works for a moment, then the Disciples catch the attack and quickly battle back. Taurus and Wulf get into a shoving match before ventually walking back to the corner, and Scorpio nearly has his head taken off by a spinning heel kick from Kane! Heel pop! Kane brings Scorpio back up and whips him off the ropes, landing a nice twisting side suplex on the return! Cover.. 1 -- 2 -- Kickout, as Scorpio slides a shoulder up. Scorpio looks worse for wear as he gets whipped off the the ropes again, but is able to wrap around a clothesline and crucifix Kane! 1 -- 2 -- big kickout! Both men are slow to get up, and they lock up, with Kane raking the eyes of Scorpio before ramming his head into the turnbuckle and tagging in Wulf.] TD: Scorpio has been taking the majority of the punishment here, and he's got to look for a way out. SR: He won't find it while that monster is in there! [Wulf starts with rapid-fire head shots that eventually cause Scorp to slump down to the canvas to a heel pop! Wulf drags him up, then repeats the bashing of Scorpio as the crowd becomes very vocal! Wulf tries it a third time, and is kicked between the legs by a desperate Scorp! Kane immediately chokes Scorpio from behind, seeing the move that fell Wulf! Scorpio wheels around and slugs Kane! Kane wobbles, and Scorpio tries to get to his corner, but Wulf is able, in his pain, to trip the Zodiac and keep him from going across the ring! Heel pop! Wulf drags him back over and tags in Kane, who heads up top and comes down with a double-stomp onto the back of Scorpio! BIG HEEL POP! The move causes Scorpio to grimmace in pain, and Kane rolls him over... 1 -- 2 -- Kickout! Kane pulls Scorpio up and whips him off the ropes, but Scorpio catches the boot of Kane, and spins him around, only to be dropped on his face by a quick-thinking Kane! Heel pop! 1 -- 2 -- Kickout, but just barely!) TD: Scorpio needs the tag, and ne needs it now! [Kane drops a leg down! 1 -- 2 -- Kickout! Kane drops an elbow, then runs off the ropes and uses a fistdrop! 1 -- 2 -- Kickout! Kane tags in Wulf, who runs off the ropes and splashes the much smaller Scorpio!] SR: This is the end! [The cover... 1 -- 2 -- Kickout! POP! Both Disciples seem disappointed, and argue with the ref about the count. Wulf drags the seemingly unconscious Scorpio back to his feet and lifts him overhead! Heel pop! Scorpio shifts his weight, falls behind Wulf, lands awkwardly, and still manages to gather his strength and lift the bigger Wulf off the mat with a back suplex! HUGE CROWD POP! Scorpio can't move after the move, despite the cries of a tag from Taurus, and Wulf backs into a corner trying to regain his own senses... Wulf uses the ropes to walk to his corner, and Scorpio just begins to move as the tag is made to Kane. Kane comes in quickly and grabs the leg of Scorpio, who in a last-ditch effort, uses an enziguiri to floor Kane! MASSIVE POP! Scorpio crawls to his corner as both Kane and Wulf lie in the ring!] SR: Come on, Disciples! Get Scorpio! Get him! Come on! [The tag is made to Taurus to a huge pop!] SR: Oh no, not again! [Taurus, fresh after the beating from earlier and from the beginning of the match, simply lifts Kane and flings him like a ragdoll over the top rope! Then Taurus grabs Wulf, whips him off the ropes, and there is a massive collision at center ring as Taurus splashes Wulf! Huge pop! Taurus brings Wulf back up and sends him off the ropes, hitting a picture-perfect belly-to-belly suplex on the big Disciple! Pop! Kane rolls back into the ring and attempts to take the big man down from behind, and Taurus, in a massive show of strength, muscles Kane over his head and slams him down! Scorpio reenters the ring and joins in the battle against the Disciples.] TD: It's four-man chaos in the ring again! The referees need to do something here! Big powerslam by Taurus! SR: This isn't loking good for the Disciples, Tim... These Zodiacs are the luckiest bunch of inbred morons I've ever seen! [Wulf is laid out due to the powerslam, and Taurus grabs Kane and lifts him up again, in a big chokeslam! Huge pop! Suddenly, Team Brutality, all four members strong, rushes down to ringside as Mr. Mic distracts the referee from seeing a pin attempt by taurus on Kane! Morningstar and Hellraiser grab the championship belts and enter the ring, crowning the Zodiacs with the belts. Huge heel pop!] SR: Yes! TD: This is an injustice! Somebody stop this! [Morningstar rolls Kane on top of the unconscious Scorpio as Mr. Mic walks away. The ref turns around and counts... 1 -- 2 -- 3! Ding! Ding! Ding! The new tag team champions, the Disciples, are then mugged by all four members of Team Brutality! Kane and Wulf are pounded on, and at one point, Wulf is powerbombed by both Night Patrol members and Hellraiser! Scorpio and Taurus roll outside the ring, both very woozy. As Team Brutality vontinues their assault on the Disciples, the Armed Forces fly to the ring and clean house, sending first Pain Inc., then the Night Patrol over the top rope to the outside!] TD: What a mass of carnage we've just seen. The Zodiac Connection, now former IIWF Tag team Champions, are still wobbly on the outside, the new Champions, the Dark Disciples, are out cold in center ring, Team Brutality walks back up the aisle and the Armed Forces are following! SR: Wow, what a mess! But the Zodiacs have been uncrowned! There may actually be justice in this world! TD: Folks, I'm not entirely sure what to make of all this... Obviously, Team Brutality have a bone to pick with the Disciples for their attack earlier on Pain Inc., The Zodiacs have three teams to thank for their loss tonight, and where exactly does the Armed Forces fit in? They've been after Team Brutality for a bit, and maybe an eight-man tag is in the future... SR: The tag team scene is wilder than it has ever been! TD: Another week drifting by and match by match -- we get closer to that date -- closer to Saturday, March 22 and Ring Wars 3, where, it now transpires, Domination will battle the Dark Disciples for the IIWF World Tag Team Championships. SR: Uh-huh. TD: And the two men we are about to see, The Enigma and Lord Byron will both be prominently featured that night, with each fighting for a belt. SR: Uh-hey, Dross, what do you call a cow with no legs? TD: I don't exactly... SR: Just answer the question, what do you call a cow with no legs? TD: All right, Steve. I don't know, what do you call a cow with no legs? SR: Ground beef. Hah! TD: Let's get to ringside. =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- "Enigma" Takezo Musashi vs. Lord Byron -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= WRITER: JJ [Sparkplug Lee gives a thumbs up to a front row fan wearing a "Majestic Maurice 4-Life" t-shirt and then takes the mic.] SL: The following non-title contest is set for one fall. Introducing first, currently residing in New Orleans, Louisiana and weighing in at 265lbs, here is Lord Byron! [The Englishman enters with a waggle of his familiar brass topped cane, as Intermezzo from Karelia Suite begins. Byron is the picture of confidence as he walks the aisle, ignoring the taunts of the ringside faithful.] TD: You can not tell me that you are completely uninterested in this matchup, Steve Roberts. These are two of the premiere athletes in all the world. SR: Well, I do like that Byron. I've always said that, but he doesn't really maim as many guys as I'd prefer. And he is probably better since he lost the broad, beating both the sewer rat and Kick Me in the last few weeks. But did he ever stop to ask, "What about Soundbite? I bet Soundbite will be sad without DeWinter to ogle... I mean to appreciate." See, that's what I mean about the selfishness of the superstars here in the IIWF -- very few of them ever stop to wonder how their actions affect me. SL: His opponent, [pop as the mystical music wafts through the Coliseum] at 211lbs, from Tokyo, Japan, the IIWF Cruiserweight Champion, "The Enigma" Takezo Musashi! [Musashi walks quickly to the ring, slapping the outstretched hands of the predominantly young fans who have rushed the retaining barrier. He raises a hand to the crowd as he reaches the ring and then begins a pre-match stretching ritual.] TD: This is another man who can go, Steve Roberts. This is the Crusierweight Champion of the World -- and he will give Lord Byron all he wants tonight. SR: Yeah, but will he give me all I want, Dross? Will he be able to meet my aesthetic sensibilities? What about the Soundbite, Dross? What about the Soundbite? [Byron looks for a lockup but Musashi surprises him with a quick charge, catching Byron on each side of the face with thrust kicks and then dropping the larger man with a sharp spinning heel kick. Pop! Byron is up and then down again and again with two picture perfect armdrags. Pop! Byron escapes and staggers to the ropes -- Musashi runs farside, bounces off the ropes and charges Byron -- slipping a clothesline with a baseball slide between the Englishman's legs and out to the apron. Byron takes a confused step toward the middle of the ring as Musashi leaps to the mid -- and then the top rope, leaping to Lord Byron's neck and taking him down hard with a hurricarana! Big Pop! Musashi covers... 1 - 2 - kickout. Takezo delivers a rapid open palm strike to the neck and covers again 1 - but Byron counters with a head scissors takeover into a cover - 1 - 2 - and the Enigma reverses into a roll up of his own for a 1 - 2 - kickout by Byron!] TD: Fast and furious start by Musashi! There's no way Lord Byron can keep up with this kind of pace for very long. This is the start the champ was looking for. SR: But what about what I'm looking for, Dross? What about... ah, screw it. [Byron and Musashi now lock up, Byron quickly moving to a standing side headlock and remaining unmoved as the smaller Enigma tries to hiplock... then tries to shoulderblock... then tries a leg lariat which Byron slips - and it's Byron who nimbly fells Musashi with a drop toe hold. Discerning pop! Byron moves to bar the arm, converting to a painful Greco-Roman knuckle lock and then back to the armbar. Byron snaps the arm backward, and then goes to work on the leg. Byron manipulates the legs, exposing a hamstring and then efficiently goes to work; dropping several quick knees to the leg and then measured elbows, pounding at the exposed muscle of the Enigma.] SR: That's what Byron's about, Dross. Slowing this thing down and beating on the little man. Sure, it might be boring for some of our slower, more simplistic fans -- but that's okay, because I know what sort of damage he's doing to Musashi -- how much it hurts, the sheer, raw physical pain that The Enigma is in. I dig that. [Byron has applied a rather lengthy half-crab which Musashi was just able to break with a swipe to the ropes. Both men are up and the Enigma tries a whip -- which Byron easily reverses - Musashi comes off the ropes with a high leapfrog and bounds off the back with a high knee, that Byron catches! Musashi, however, flips out of it, crescent kicks Byron and then executes a tilt-a-whirl suplex that sends the larger man hard to the canvas! Big pop! Enigma covers... 1 - 2 - No! Byron is to his feet and is hit with a volley of roundkicks that stagger the Englishman back to the ropes. Musashi Irish whips -- and cuts off the Byron pass with a front waistlock...} TD: Here comes a belly-to-belly suplex! No! Byron jabs him with a thumb to the eye! SR: That'll stop an elephant, Dross. [Byron quickly capitalizes with a sharp fron layout suplex and dives down himself for the Aristoclutch! Pop! But Musashi quickly scrambles away, desperately retreating to the corner.] TD: That's where it's so tough to beat the Enigma, Roberts. Lord Byron went for a quick submission -- but Musashi is so elusive, so slippery -- that's why he's the Crusierweight Champion. SR: Oh, that's why. I thought maybe he was the eleventh caller on our morning zoo contest line looking to win the REO Speedwagon tickets. [Both men stand again, Musashi in his fighting stance as Byron warily advances, Byron moves for a single leg takedown but Musashi is simply too quick, leaping to the air and connecting with two spinning backfists before returning to the mat. Pop! Musashi whips Byron hard into the corner and charges with a handspring elbowsmash that catches Byron high on the head! Pop!] TD: I don't know, Steve Roberts, I don't think Musashi hit all of that one... but he's going up! The Enigma's going up to the top rope! [Byron staggers slightly, but quickly composes himself to grab Musashi as he stands on the top rope, The Enigma blocks the launch and then starts pulling Byron up! Lord Byron is climbing to the top rope! Both men stand high above the ring, each on the top buckle, each man virtually facing the ring. They trade right hands and Musashi locks up Byron for the DDT! Byron grabs for a facelock of his own...] TD: Byron's gonna bulldog the Enigma... no, it's the Enigma who will DDT... no, it's Byron... here they go... [The two men hurl to the mat as the crowd pops...] TD: DDT! DDT! Takezo Musashi has just DDT'd Lord Byron from the top rope! SR: He's got him covered... 1 - 2 - here comes the White Phoenix! Byron kicks out! [Shinja Chow's bolt to ringside disrupts Musashi, just enough for Byron to escape the three count. The Enigma is clearly irritated, pointing at the Phoenix and missing, Byron's rolling him up for a quick 1 - 2 - NO! Both men are up, stalking each other as the Phoenix disappears under one corner of the ring. Musashi charges with a thrustkick that Byron blocks, spinning the Enigma around into an atomic drop that sends him to the corner. Pop! Chow emerges from beneath the ring...] TD: He's got a ladder, Dross! He's got a ladder! [The White Phoenix sets up what appears to be an 8-9 foot wooden ladder outside the corner of the ring, obviously making reference to the upcoming ladder match at Ring Wars 3. The Phoenix does not stand on the ladder, instead moving to another corner, instead simply securing it in place and moving to another corner where he again slides under the ring. Pop! Musashi is again distracted by the outside goings on and Byron is able to charge the corner and land a hard elbow, then whips him to the opposite corner... Musashi leaps to the midrope and springs back with a forearm... but Byron catches the smaller man into a backbreaker and a cover... 1 - 2 - kickout. The White Phoenix has pulled out a second ladder and place it outside the ring.} TD: Musashi is obviously distracted, Steve. Shinja Chow is sending him some type of message about Ring Wars 3. And again there it is -- Chow has now pulled out a third ladder from underneath yet another corner of the ring! They look like they're made of wood, I can't be... ooh, a hard european uppercut by Byron. [Byron delivers another uppercut and then a snap suplex that takes the Enigma off his feet, Byron moves for an elbowdrop... but Musashi misses and goes to the mat for a figure four! Musashi puts on a figure four!] SR: Yes! Byron reverses the figure four... Byron's got the Enigma in a figure four! No! TD: Musashi reverses the figure four again! The Enigma's got the figure four! And Byron's got the ropes! Whew! [The White Phoenix has now pulled four ladders from beneath the ring, set them up outside of each corner and now stands in the aisle. The official has broken the hold and each man slowly gets to his feet, Byron makes a move... Musashi bounces off the ropes... and strikes Byron down with a reverse savate kick! Big POP! Musashi hops to the ropes and climbs to the top buckle... and comes down with a somersault legdrop atop the prone Byron! POP!] TD: Lord Byron is flat on his back! He is out! He is de-railed! SR: And Musashi is going back up, oh no, we're gonna see it, Dross. The Enigma is going up right in front of Shinja Chow! TD: He's going for the Starsault Press, Steve! Maybe the most dramatic finishing move in this sport -- and he's gonna show the whole world why he's the Crusierweight champion! [Musashi reaches the top rope to the mad popping of the crowd and raises his arms to the air.... as simultaneously does the White Phoenix... and suddenly the arena is blinded by an overwhelming flash of white light!] TD: What the... the ladders are on fire! The Phoenix is gone! The Phoenix has set the ladders on fire! [Each of the four ladders burns furiously outside each corner of the ring as the stunned crowd tries to recover its bearings. Security personnel immediately herd the crowd away from the crowd barriers, and a fire crew runs to ringside. Chow is gone and the Enigma somersaults to... to the mat! Byron moves out of the way and covers! 1 - 2 - kickout!] SR: It's mighty hot in here, Dross! TD: Musashi missed the Starsault Press, that white flash from the White Phoenix was just enough to let Byron collect himself -- and now the Enigma is in real trouble. [Byron struggles to his feet, dragging the Enigma with him, as fire crews put out the flames around the ring [Byron whips Musashi to the corner and then charges... and is backdropped to the floor by the Enigma! Big Pop! Byron stumbles to his feet outside and Musashi planchas over the top... and Byron catches him in a hotshot over the guardrail! Heel pop!] SR: Heh. Now that's a maim job, Dross. TD: Byron's dumping him back in the ring, this one's over. [Byron stands above the body of Musashi with a smirk, delivering two hard boots and then a scoopslam. Byron drops down for a cover... but instead picks up the Enigma and executes an inverted neckbreaker that drives him hard to the mat. Byron covers... 1 - 2 - NO! Musashi just gets a shoulder up! Byron delivers a series of rapid right hands and covers again... 1 - 2 - NO!] TD: What do you have to do, Steve Roberts? What do you have to do? [Big heel pop as Byron slowly positions Musashi for a piledriver... and hits it! And covers again... 1 - 2 - kickout! Byron kicks at Musashi again, picking him up for a brainbuster suplex... and driving his head hard into the canvas. Pop! But Byron doesn't cover...] TD: What's Byron doing? He's got this man beat. SR: He's making a statement, Dross. He's making a statement that he's the next IIWF Intercontinental Champion! [Byron reaches down and smacks Musashi hard across the face, then smacks him again as the crowd's "boo"s rain down throughout the arena. Byron now tries to pull Musashi up for a DDT, Byron trying to pull up the Enigma... but Musashi remains slumped on the mat, unable even to get to his feet to be finished.] TD: Musashi rolls Byron into an inside cradle! [The official drops down and quickly counts... 1 - 2...] SR: Byron reverses! One! Two! Three! Byron got him! He got him! [Ding! Ding! Ding! Shocked pop as Lord Byron's arm is raised and Sparkplug Lee takes the mic.] SL: Your winner... as a result of a pinfall... Lord Byron! [Byron yanks his arm down and bows to the crowd, accepting his jeers gladly as he exits the ring. Musashi shakes his head in disbelief, holding up three fingers toward the official and then mouthing the words "where are the ladders?"] TD: An unbelievable match here... I have to believe that the turning point was the unexpected appearance of The White Phoenix. Quite a scene here as those four ladders seemed to... well, to spontaneously combust at Chow's command. SR: You can say what you want to say, Dross. The bottom line is Lord Byron has established himself solidly as one of the top contenders here in the IIWF, and on March 22, he is going to become the Intercontinental Champion. [Musashi heads out of the ring to a big pop, and he half-heartedly slaps the hands of some fans on his way back up the aisle.] TD: Well, it's already been another exciting night of action here in the IIWF, and it looks like it's gonna get even hotter now with the clash of two of it's hottest superstars: "Quickstrike" Chris Quigley takes on the German Juggernaut, Otto "The Butcher" Verhoeven. Steve? SR: Two words: Meat. Hook. TD: Right. Before we get down to ringside, I think we can go live backstage to get a few words with Quigley as he prepares for this match: [Camera cuts back to the locker room area, where Chris Quigley is pacing quickly back and forth, with his leather jacket and shades on over his usual wrestling attire. His hair is noticeably dry and unstyled, an uncharacteristic look for Quigley...] TD: Chris? [Quigley hears Dross over the microphone feed and stops pacing, looking up with a business-like look on his face.] CQ: Yeah? TD: Chris, your match with Otto Verhoeven is just moments away, and unbelievably, this is the first time you two will meet in singles competition here in the IIWF! Any words for your long-time nemesis? [Quigley gets close to the camera...] CQ: Otto Verhoeven is set on injuring me, Dross! I don't think he gives a damn about what way the match ends! That's why Otto Verhoeven is not as good as I am! He's got no focus, he's got no ring smarts, and as much as he'd like us to believe different, he's got no tenacity! The story will be the same for Verhoeven as it was for Deathbringer! He's going into this match filled more with frustration and anger than a desire to win, and that's what's gonna cost him! TD: But you've got to be wary of Verhoeven nontheless. If he hits the Meat Hook, it's all over for... CQ: [interrupting] No! It's _not_ all over for _anyone_, Dross! Otto Verhoeven will lose tonight, and he will lose fair and square! I don't care what that big so-called monster throws at me! Whether he hit me with one chokeslam or five chokeslams, I _will_ get back up and I _will_ keep on fighting, because this ain't about some stupid personal thing anymore, Verhoeven! This is about victory, and that's what I'm fighting for! [With that, Quigley grabs his leather jacket and yanks it off, throwing it in a pile on the floor, and then grabs his shades off his face and throws them against the wall, breaking them in two.] CQ: This is gonna be strictly business... but I think I may enjoy it! [With that said, Quigley walks out of the camera's view towards the aisleway. Cut back to ringside.] SR: Dream on, Kick-Me. I'll tell you what I'm going to enjoy, Dross -- I'm going to enjoy seeing Verhoeven plant Quigley in the mat with a Slaughterslam. TD: We'll see about that. Let's get back up to the ring. =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- "Quickstrike" Chris Quigley vs. Otto "the Butcher" Verhoeven -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= WRITER: MP RA: The following contest is scheduled for one fall, with a thirty minute time limit. Introducing first, accompanied to the ring by the lovely Nurse Heidi, hailing from Essen, Germany and weighing in at 340lbs, here is Otto "The Butcher" Veeeeeeerrrhoooooeeeeveeeen!! [Big heel pop as John Carpenter's "Halloween" starts up over the PA system, and Otto Verhoeven enters the aisle, preceded by Nurse Heidi, and the duo walk down to ringside, ignoring the jeering fans.] TD: Verhoeven certainly looks psyched up for this one. SR: And Kick-Me's going to be on the end of it. Brutal. [Verhoeven enters the ring, and raises his arms to the crowd, to a huge heel pop...] RA: And his opponent... [Big crowd pop], hailing from Corner Brook, Newfoundland, weighing in at 238lbs, here is "Quickstrike" Chris Quuuiiiiiiiiiggleeeeeeeeeeyy!! [Huge crowd pop as "For Those About To Rock" by AC/DC starts up over the PA system and Quigley starts to walk down to ringside, without the usual shades and jacket, looking cool and business-like. He is met almost immediately by Verhoeven, who charges down from the ring, and the two start trading punches in the aisle...] TD: Verhoeven not wasting any time at all here, not even waiting for the bell to ring! SR: That's what I like to see, take it to him Otto! [Verhoeven starts to win the brawl, and slams Quigley head first into the security railings. Verhoeven picks Quigley back up by the hair, and drags him down to the ring, throwing him in before rolling in himself...] TD: And Quigley back up, catches Verhoeven with an elbow to the small of the back as he gets into the ring! And another! [Verhoeven fights his way to his feet, and backs Quigley into the corner. The referee tries to get between them, and Verhoeven winds up for a big haymaker, Quigley ducks under his arm and back into the ring, and as Verhoeven turns, takes him to the canvas with a hiptoss! Big pop! Verhoeven leaps straight back to his feet, and Quigley sends him back down with a well-placed dropkick! Verhoeven leaps up again, and Quigley takes him down with an armdrag, twists it into an armbar and keeps him there!] TD: Quigley is all business here today, he isn't giving Verhoeven the slightest bit of leeway! SR: Because he knows if he did, he'd be human pancake. [Verhoeven clutches at his arm, and twists over, rolling into a vertical position, and Quigley twists his arm with an armwringer, before tripping him to the canvas and twisting the hold into a hammerlock. Quigley pushes himself into a handstand, and then drives a knee down hard into Verhoeven's triceps, causing Verhoeven to howl in pain! Quigley repeats the move, before straightening Verhoeven's arm out and dropping a legdrop across it! Big crowd pop! Quigley twists the hold around again, cinching in a crucifix armbar! The referee checks Verhoeven for the submission... none.] SR: Yeah. As if. TD: Okay, so it's going to take much more to beat Verhoeven than an armbar, but Quigley's showing a positive attitude and sound technical ability here. SR: Just waiting for Verhoeven to knock it out of him... [Verhoeven rolls to one knee, and pushes Quigley's shoulders to the canvas... the referee counts 1 - 2 - Quigley kicks out, sending Verhoeven straight back down to the canvas in the process! Verhoeven slams the canvas in frustration, and the referee counts his shoulders down! - 1 - 2 - Verhoeven rolls back up, and Quigley switches the hold into an armwringer again! Verhoeven forces Quigley's arm back with his spare hand, and backs him into the ropes, before Irish whipping him cross ring. Quigley grimly holds on to the armbar, dragging Verhoeven back down to the canvas again! Big pop! Quigley gets back up, and drops another legdrop across Verhoeven's shoulder, before leaning hard on the armbar...] TD: Quigley is keeping Verhoeven quiet here. It looks like the big man is getting frustrated. [Verhoeven pushes himself up to one knee, and then to his feet. Quigley starts to drop a series of elbows across the Butcher's outstretched arm, but Verhoeven cuts him short with a facerake, and then runs in a circle, dropping to the canvas to send Quigley flying out through the ropes! Big heel pop!] SR: Hah! Now that's more like it! [Verhoeven paces around the ring, shaking the knots out of his arm as Quigley gets up on the outside, and stuns him with a blow to the head as he leaps onto the ring apron. Verhoeven shoulder barges Quigley, sending him flying back into the crowd barriers! Huge heel pop! The Butcher snarls, and follows him outside...] TD: This could be trouble, Quigley's in the Butcher's territory now... SR: Yes! Go get him! [Verhoeven picks Quigley back up to his feet, and slips him into a headlock, before charging the ringpost... Quigley slips out at the last second, and Verhoeven hits the post face first! Quigley quickly leaps to the ring apron, then climbs to the top rope as Verhoeven staggers around... Quigley comes off the top with a cross body block...] TD: Verhoeven catches him in midair! SR: And rams him into the ring post, and slams him to the concrete! Yes! Go to work! [Verhoeven picks Quigley back o his feet, and whips him straight into the steel ring steps, before rolling him back into the ring to break the count... Verhoeven follows him in, and picks him straight up, slamming him down across his knee with a backbreaker...] TD: And look at the strength by Verhoeven! He hoists him back up and delivers another backbreaker! SR: And a third! Oh, Kick-me's screaming now!! [Verhoeven stands up a fourth time, this time slamming Quigley down to the canvas with a bodyslam, before running to the ropes and hitting him with a big flying elbowdrop... the cover - 1 - 2 - kickout by Quigley! Verhoeven grabs Quigley by the hair and starts to pull him up... and Quigley ties him up in an inside cradle! Big pop! - 1 - 2 - kickout by Verhoeven! And Verhoeven cuts Quigley's revival short with a kick to the head! Big heel pop! Verhoeven pulls Quigley up to his feet, and sends him back to his knees with a hard headbutt, before hooking him into position for a suplex... there's a considerable crowd pop as a figure appears at the top of the aisle...] TD: Verhoeven with a vertical suplex... he's holding Quigley in position... remarkable strength being shown here by Verhoeven... all the blood's rushing to Quigley's head... SR: Not anymore it's not! TD: A delayed brainbuster by Verhoeven! And a cover! One! Two! No! Kickout by Chris Quigley! [Dan Kauffman watches on form the aisle as Verhoeven pulls Quigley back up to his feet, backs him into the ropes and sends him cross-ring with an Irish whip. Quigley comes back on the rebound, Verhoeven drops his head for a back drop and Quigley catches him in a sunset flip! Big pop! 1 - 2 - Verhoeven claps his heels against Quigley's head, and Quigley falls back to the canvas.] SR: What's Kauffman doing here? TD: It looks like he's sizing Quigley up. He must be scouting his Ring Wars III opponent. SR: Yeah? He shouldn't worry. Quigley'll be dead long before then... [Verhoeven picks Quigley back to his feet, and Quigley fires a kick into Verhoeven's midsection. Verhoeven backs off, and Quigley fires another kick in, doubling Verhoeven over, before hitting him with a European uppercut that sends him into the ropes. Quigley Irish whips the Butcher cross-ring, and comes off the ropes with a cross-body block... the referee counts... 1 - 2 - kickout by Verhoeven! Both men get to their feet, and Verhoeven aims a kick at Quigley, Quigley has the presence of mind to catch it, and sweeps out Verhoeven's other leg before dropping an elbowsmash down across the Butcher's knee joint!] TD: And this is something Verhoeven will have to avoid at all costs, Quigley's setting him up for the Quickstriker... [Quigley drops a second elbow across Verhoeven's knee, and grapevine's the leg. The Butcher reaches out and grabs Quigley's jaw, so he quickly changes the hold, rolling Verhoeven into a half Boston crab...] TD: Quigley's getting a response from the Butcher here. Remember that Verhoeven injured his knee a while back... [Verhoeven starts to push up out of the crab, and Quigley shifts position again, throwing himself to the canvas in a kneebreaker. Verhoeven howls in pain, and Quigley takes advantage by rolling him over, and spinning the Butcher into a figure-four leglock... the referee checks for the submission, and Verhoeven simply glares at him. Quigley pours the pressure on, and Verhoeven stretches out, reaching for the ropes.] TD: Verhoeven does not look in good shape at all. Quigley's regaining strength by the second, and Verhoeven... [Kauffman turns away from ringside, seemingly satisfied, just as Verhoeven leans forward and lashes out with a hard right hand that stuns Quigley and breaks the hold.] TD: Oh, come on ref! That was a closed fist! SR: So? Quigley's so thick-headed he probably can't tell the difference anyway. [Verhoeven pulls himself to his feet, and limps backwards towards the ropes. Quigley shakes his jaw, and advances on Verhoeven again... and gets caught by another punch to the jaw! Heel pop! Verhoeven steps away from the ropes, firing a series of jabs at Quigley, then levelling him with a huge right hook! Big heel pop! The referee pushes Verhoeven back, warning him about the closed fist, and Verhoeven raises his hands to the crowd to a huge heel pop!] TD: That should be a disqualification right there. Verhoeven's a trained boxer. SR: And Quigley's a trained loser. [Verhoeven picks the stunned Quigley to his feet, and whips him hard into the corner, hitting face first. Quigley falls back out, Verhoeven catches him, and sends him crashing to the mat with a high back suplex Verhoeven rolls over Quigley and hooks the leg - 1 - 2 - kickout by Quigley!] SR: That was a three! That was a slow count! TD: Quigley got his shoulder up just in time! [Verhoeven shakes his head and picks Quigley up again, hooking him into position for a powerbomb... and sends Quigley crashing to the canvas hard! Big heel pop! Verhoeven turns to the crowd, and signals for the Meat Hook...] SR: This is it. The beginning of the end for Kick-me... [Verhoeven hoists Quigley up and sets him on the top rope, before climbing up to the second turnbuckles. Quigley recovers slightly, and lays a punch into Verhoeven's head. Verhoeven responds with a face rake and then a punch of his own, before grasping Quigley by the throat.] SR: Here comes the Meat Hook! TD: No! Quigley's blocking it! He's got Verhoeven's legs tied up! [Verhoeven punches Quigley and tries again, but to no avail. Quigley punches Verhoeven back... once... twice... he hits Verhoeven with a headbutt, and that drops Verhoeven back down to the canvas again! Quigley leaps to the top turnbuckle, waits for Verhoeven to turn, and leaps...] TD: And there's Quigley's Lightning Strike! The cover! One! Two! No! Kickout by Verhoeven! How did he manage that? SR: No! Get up, Verhoeven!! [Quigley pulls Verhoeven back to his feet, doubles him over with a kick to the stomach, runs to the ropes and sends the German Juggernaut crashing to the canvas with a bulldog! Quigley covers! 1 - 2 - kickout by Verhoeven! On the outside, Nurse Heidi starts to hit the canvas, trying to rouse Verhoeven... Quigley pulls Verhoeven back up again, whips him into the ropes, and doubles him over with a fist to the midsection, before slinging him to the canvas with a side Russian leg sweep...] TD: Another cover by Quigley... One! Two! Kickout by Verhoeven again! Quigley can't believe it! SR: Neither can I! Get up Verhoeven!! [Quigley leaps to the second turnbuckles, on the other side of the ring, Nurse Heidi starts fumbling with the turnbuckle pad...] TD: Quigley with a second rope elbowdrop! He picks Verhoeven's legs up... Quickstriker? SR: No! Verhoeven's got the ropes! [Quigley pulls Verhoeven up by his hair, and he lashes out with a low blow. Quigley doubles over in pain. Verhoeven staggers back into the ropes as the referee warns him again. On the other side of the ring, Nurse Heidi tears the turnbuckle pad off... Verhoeven pushes the referee out of the way, picks Quigley to his feet and throws him back into the corner...] SR: Yes! He's going to throw him into the steel turnbuckles! I love it! [Verhoeven pulls Quigley's head back by the hair, and Irish whips him across the ring -- but Quigley reverses it at the last second, and the Butcher strikes the exposed steel face first, and staggers back out, straight into a reverse cradle by Quigley! The referee counts - 1 - 2 - 3! Ding! Ding! Ding!] SR: No! I don't believe it!! RA: Here is your winner, as a result of a pinfall... "Quickstrike" Chris Quiiiggggggllleeeeeeeeeey! [Huge crowd pop as "For Those About To Rock" starts up over the PA system again and Quigley raises his hands in the air. Verhoeven rolls out of the ring, visibly upset with the result, and Nurse Heidi tries to console him...] TD: Verhoeven's desperation tactics backfired, giving Quigley a well deserved victory here tonight! SR: Verhoeven had him beat! The punk got lucky! Again! [Verhoeven heads up the aisle, ignoring the comiserations of his fiancee, shouting abuse at the jeering fans.] TD: Well, Steve Roberts, the end of another IIWF Saturday Night rapidly approaches -- but not before the main event. SR: Yeah, you know Dross, I'm the first to admit that I'm justifiably accused of being "too manly" sometimes. Too masculine. Guilty of having the testosterone content of eight or nine men. TD: Of course. SR: But I'm tellin' you right damn now that Mr. Steve Roberts is gonna get a little misty when ole' J.W. Hardin walks that aisle tonight, heading off back to Europe again. Who knows when he'll be back, Dross? Do you know? You'd tell me if you knew wouldn't you? Please. TD: Well, Steve, I didn't know you felt this way. SR: I'm a sensitive guy, moron. TD: Let's get to ringside. =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- TRIANGLE MATCH: -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Casey James vs. Brody Thunder vs. Danny Dynamite ------------------------------------------------ WRITER: JJ [Sparkplug Lee adjust his official "One Day At A Time" bow tie, this one covered in pictures of Bonnie Franklin, and takes the mic.] SL: Ladies and gentlemen, it's time for tonight's main event! [Pop!] The following special triangle match is set for one fall. TD: Well, let me tell the fans about the rules for this special grudge match, Steve. We're going to see a triangle match between The Syndicate, the Players' Club and those tough cowboys; J.W. Hardin and Brody Thunder. Each team has picked one representative, and those three men will get it on tonight. One decision only -- and only two men in the ring at once -- that means if you're on the apron and somebody makes the pinfall, you're outta luck. SR: He taught us all so much. SL: Introducing first, representing the Players' Club, accompanied to the ring by "The Maverick" Michael Reyna; at a weight of 235 lbs. from "the center of every woman's dreams and every man's nightmare..." SR: Where is that, Biloxi? SL: ...here is Desirable Danny Dynamite! [The Players' Club struts down the aisle to a mixed pop as "Ain't No Playa" is heard over the PA. Dynamite gives an exaggerated double bicep as he steps into the ring.] TD: Like them or not, these two men are among the most accomplished wrestlers in this business. SR: Accomplished at what, Dross? They win a local chili cookoff? Oooh, is that cumen, Dynamite? Can I get that con carne, Maverick? Have you boys met my Aunt Esther? She makes a hell of a three bean salad! SL: Next [Big Pop as the theme from "High Plains Drifter" kicks in] accompanied down the aisle by the former IIWF Heavyweight Champion -- "The Outlaw" J.W. Hardin -- at a weight of 267 lbs., from Tombstone, Arizona... Brody Thunder! [The applause begins to swell as "The Outlaw" has emerged from behind the curtain and is now fully visible to the entire IIWF Coliseum. Hardin nods his head and, almost despite himself, a grin creeps over his entire face. Thunder stands behind as "The Outlaw" takes in the applause and then the former champ waves him down to ringside, Thunder reaching the ring first to open the ropes for the Outlaw.] TD: Quite a scene... SR: Whooooooo! TD: ...here as these two men... SR: Har-din! Har-din! Har-din! TD: Unbelievable. SL: Finally, representing the Syndicate and accompanied to the ring by Brian Lau, he hails from Washington D.C. and weighs 340lbs... the IIWF Heavyweight Champion... Casey "Blackheart" James! [Big heel pop as "Foul Taste of Freedom" begins and now the Syndicate supporters are in a Coliseum wide shouting match with those who were cheering Hardin, some ringside fans seem torn themselves, their big foam "Blackheart" fingers in direct contrast with their "Outlaw" stick-on tattoos. James climbs into the ring and heads to the mid-buckle, making a very deliberate show of the IIWF Championship belt to the crowd -- and then to the former champ, Hardin.] TD: Well, that's the man here in the IIWF, Steve. Casey James is still sporting the gold. SR: And I've gotta admit, Dross, I'm feeling a lot of conflicting emotions about this. On the one hand I have been a long time supporter of Brian Lau -- an admirer of what he's accomplished in this sport. On the other hand -- I really want to see The Outlaw kick a little ass one more time. [All six men stand in the ring now, each seeming to do a little bit of jawing, with Hardin looking for a piece of everyone, getting right up in James' face and then giving Michael Reyna a swipe to the back as the Maverick exits the ring. Lau also leaves, setting up in the corner diagonally opposite that of the Players' Club. Hardin surveys the three soon-to-be combatants, James, Dynamite and finally Thunder, a moment longer, shakes his head -- and exits the ring, taking a place in the corner between the other two seconds.] TD: There is no deficit of bad blood in this ring, Soundbite. We saw it last week in the locker room when a brawl between Hardin, Thunder and the Syndicate got way out of control when the Players' Club got involved. All five men were going at each other. And that's why we've got to come to some sort of settlement tonight, as the Outlaw's mini-vacation here in the IIWF is up. SR: He taught me how to be a man. [Casey James has won the coin flip in the back and waves the other two together with a flourish as he steps over the ropes and out of the ring.] TD: It's gonna be Thunder and Dynamite to hook it up first. Remember, folks, one decision ends this thing; that means if Dynamite were to pin Brody Thunder -- he'd win this match. SR: But not that IIWF Championship belt -- Hardin was smart enough not to put that up tonight. TD: Uh, Steve. Casey James is the champion. SR: Of course he is, nimrod. That's what I said -- Hardin's smart enough not to put up the belt tonight. TD: Okay, Steve. It's going to be okay. [Dynamite and Thunder circle, then lock up. Thunder establishes a quick standing side headlock which Dynamite reverses into a hammerlock. Thunder misses a back elbow and then hiplocks Dynamite to the mat. Thunder moves in but is kicked hard in the solar plexus. Thunder backs away, allowing the kip up and then misses a hard lariat -- and then takes a Dynamite reverse crescent kick to the jaw! Pop! Dynamite bounds off the backrope and drops a high elbow... to nothing as Thunder rolls out of the way -- this time hitting his clothesline as Dynamite attempts to get to his feet. Pop! Thunder drops an elbow to the throat and then scoops Dynamite up, whipping him hard into the corner. Dynamite hits the buckle outside of which The Outlaw stands -- Thunder charges the corner... and smacks hard into the buckle as Dynamite is just able to avoid the big cowboy! Pop!] TD: That's peculiar, Steve. The J.W. Hardin I know would've grabbed one of Dynamite's ankles so he wouldn't have been able to slip that elbow from Thunder. SR: Thunder's probably a little slow tonight, Dross -- and would you want to touch Danny Dynamite's ankles? You don't know where they've been -- other than the cook off, of course. [Dynamite hits Thunder with a couple of loud reverse knife edge chops and sends him far side, Thunder reverses and Dynamite drops down... catching Thunder on his return with a superkick that falls the big mat like a shot. Dynamite covers... 1 - 2 - kickout. Dynamite scoops Thunder to his feet and sends him hard into the Players' Club corner where Reyna isn't as forgiving as Hardin, meeting him with a hard elbow which staggers Thunder right into a German suplex by Dynamite and a cover... 1 - 2 - kickout. Hardin jumps on the aprona and the official's attention is immediately drawn to him as Reyna enters the ring. The Players' Club immediately doubleteams the prone Thunder.] TD: Again, Hardin knows better than this. He's distracting the official and Thunder is really getting walloped in there. SR: J.W. Hardin always knows what he's doing, Dross. Even if it sometimes seems a little confusing to we mortals. TD: "We mortals?" SR: Dammit, Dross. Gab, gab, gab -- let me watch the freakin' match! [Hardin is able to draw the attention of Dynamite, taking a shove from the Desirable one while Thunder escapes his teammate and makes the tag to James. James steps over the top rope and is hit with a quick drop kick from Dynamite. James sways slightly, but remains on his feet until hit with the second and third dropkicks which knock the big champion down! Pop! Dynamite drops and lands a quick series of right hands, before going for a cover...] TD: Uh-oh. [... 1 - big kickout by James, sending Dynamite back to the buckle. James is quickly in with a clothesline and a cross-corner whip. James charges with a big splash that crumples the smaller Dynamite. James lands a few quick boots to the head and then cross-corner whips him again. Dynamite is able to collect himself and goes to the mid-buckle for a springboard... but is grabbed around the foot by Brian Lau and instead takes the full weight of Casey James, ramming him through the buckle and to the ringpost! Pop! James covers 1 - and then pulls Dynamite up!] TD: He wants Brody Thunder! Casey James is waving for Thunder to come into the ring! SR: That's why he's the champion, Dross. That Hardin knows what he's doing. TD: You're killing us tonight, Steve. Casey James is the Heavyweight Champion of the World and he and Brody Thunder are about to have at it! [Dynamite gladly accepts the invitation to the apron and Thunder warily steps through the ropes, carefully eyeing the big man as the crowd pops expectantly. They lock up collar and elbow, James wrings the arm and Thunder reverses, Thunder then steps over to increase the pressure and James kicks him in the midsection. James scoops up Thunder -- positioning him for a powerbomb... but Brody slides out the back and bounces off the near ropes into a cross body... and is caught by James! Casey hesitates for a moment and then simply drops Thunder to the mat, then bouncing himself off the ropes into a big leg drop... which misses. Thunder is the first man up and pulls James with him, whipping him to the corner -- reverse -- and Thunder is sent hard into his own corner -- knocking Hardin off the apron! Pop! Thunder seems shocked that The Outlaw has been bumped to the floor and turns to see if...] TD: Oh -- and a big clothesline by James! That might be all for Brody Thunder. Here's a one... no, James pulls him up! Casey James again has given up a certain pinfall and this time he is tagging in Danny Dynamite! James is tagging out! What is he thinking, Steve Roberts? SR: I'm a little more concerned about J.W. at the moment, Dross. He's on his feet now and seems to be alright -- what the hell was Thunder doing hitting him like that? TD: I don't know what match you're watching, Steve Roberts, but from where I'm sitting that's the third time The Outlaw has cost Brody Thunder -- and, well, I don't want to speculate, but we all know some of the history... SR: Don't even say it, Dross. Don't even think it. [Dynamite is in and puts the quick boots to Thunder scooping him up and sending him farside, Thunder comes off the ropes and executes a nifty drop toe hold which takes down Dynamite. Thunder moves to bar the arm, but Dynamite escapes and takes Thunder down with a single leg. Thunder mares him over and Dynamite reverses. Thunder breaks the rotation with a thumb to the eye and the two men are now on their feet. Thunder changing the pace with a slap to the face of Dynamite!] SR: Now we're gonna see it, Dross. Now these guys are gonna go after each other. Now we're gonna find out what these guys are really made of. [Dynamite takes a backstep and then sends a roundhouse right, catching Thunder flush on the jaw. Thunder responds with a left and the two men send haymakers at each other, backing themselves into the corner beyond which Casey James stands with his arm outstretched, ready for a tag. Dynamite and Thunder throw punch after punch, getting closer and closer to the Heavyweight Champion.] SR: It's gonna be great, Dross. [Thunder and Dynamite stand near James when suddenly, even above the din of the crowd noise, a shrill whistling is heard. Seemingly every head in the Coliseum turns to look at from where it is eminating... right at the "Outlaw" J.W. Hardin who stands with two fingers in his mouth and that grin returning to his face. Not every head turned to face The Outlaw. At the sound of the whislte Danny Dynamite and Brody Thunder immediately stopped throwing punches at each other... and when he turns around...] TD: They just clotheslined Casey James! Thunder and Dynamite just clotheslined Casey James! [James is knocked off the apron to the floor where he is first met by a boot from Hardin and then with successive double axe-handles from a leaping Thunder and Dynamite. Big POP! Lau attempts to aid the champion but is quickly LIFTED clean off his feet by the Outlaw...] TD: Hardin's carrying Lau into the aisle, he's dropping him right in the aisle! Look at Michael Reyna! He's come over -- they're working together! Brody Thunder and the Outlaw have set up the Syndicate! They've been working together all this time! SR: Say it ain't so, J.W.! [The bell rings as all five men are at ringside, Brian Lau having scampered back to the locker room. Sparkplug Lee announces a double countout, but that isn't the focus of this capacity crowd as Casey James has really been worked over, particularly by Thunder as Reyna and Dynamite cheered him on. Reyna and Dynamite dump James back into the ring as Hardin returns from the timekeeper's table... with the IIWF Championship belt! The five men are in the ring now, Reyna and Dynamite slap hands with Thunder and Hardin and all four men raise their arms together to a shocked response from the capacity crowd. Dynamite and Reyna pick James up and hold the growling champion in place in front of Hardin, who slowly places the IIWF gold around his own waist! Big pop! Hardin smacks the defenseless James, then smacks him again, yelling that he'll never be the "real World's Champion!" Hardin spits at James and then climbs to the midbuckle, takes off the IIWF belt and holds it aloft to an absolute roar from his faithful. The "Har-din! Har-din!" chant rings throughout the arena as The Outlaw yells out, "Who wants to see one last Cattlebuster DDT?!"] SR: I do, for the love of God, I do, Outlaw! [The roar indicates the crowd agrees -- and Hardin motions for James to be dumped into the center of the ring. The "gang of four" now comes at him in pairs, Dynamite and Hardin from the left and Thunder and Reyna from the right... so synchronized is their lockstep, so precise their motion. Each pair gets within a couple of feet from the prone champion when suddenly Hardin and Thunder each stop... gently place their right hands on the backs of the respective Players' Club members at their sides... and nail them through the mat with inverted DDTs! Huge heel pop!!] TD: What in hell's name...?! Thunder and Hardin just DDTd Reyna and Dynamite! What in the Hell is going on around here? SR: Yes! Yes! The Outlaw is kicking ass! [Thunder and Hardin bring James to his feet, James holding his jaw and shaking his head... and laughing! Casey James is laughing! James and Hardin share a bear hug in the middle of the ring, as Brian Lau comes skipping down the aisle along with the Dark Disciples. Hardin gives the IIWF Championship belt back to James and now the three men, Hardin, Thunder and James, hold their arms aloft! Huge Heel POP!] SR: They set 'em up, Dross! They set up those Players' Club idiots the whole time! Ha Ha! Hardin's been with the Syndicate the whole time! I love this game! [Hardin and Thunder now each scoop up a member of the Players' Club. Hardin taking Dynamite and Thunder grabbing Reyna. Hardin holds up his index finger and then points it at Brian Lau... and then Hardin and Thunder send the Players' Club crashing back to the mat with Cattlebuster DDTs! The heel pop is enormous -- and a word can be heard above all, "ONE!"] TD: Unbelievable! Thunder and Hardin have just hit Dynamite and Reyna with Cattlebuster DDTs, reminiscent of their old running mate, former IIWF Champion Dan Kauffman, and the treatment he received at the hands of J.W. Hardin almost one full year ago at the Coronation Clash! SR: Yeah, but he got three, Dross! Three! [Hardin then holds up two fingers -- and points at the champion, Casey James, as he and Thunder again Cattlebuster DDT "Desirable" and "Maverick" into oblivion! The crowd yells: "TWO!"] TD: Oh, this is out of hand! Come on, they've made their point, Hardin and Thunder suckered the Players' Club -- fooled everyone -- what more do they want? SR: One more! One damn more! [Kane and Wulf on the outside continue to stare up the aisle, almost daring anyone to enter from the back and interfere... noone does. Hardin now holds up three fingers and releases his hold on Dynamite, allowing him to sink to the mat. Hardin then turns -- and points right at Brody Thunder, who responds with a grin of his own -- and a huge Cattlebuster DDT on Reyna! "THREE!" The heel pop rains down and the "Har-din! Har-din!" chant grows louder and louder, and then is replaced by a cacophony that even dwarfs all of the previous chants combined: "One More Time! One More Time! One More Time!" It's Brody Thunder now who holds up one finger -- and points it in the direction of J.W. Hardin, who scoops up Danny Dynamite -- and nails him with another Cattlebuster DDT that sends the Desirable one's head bouncing hard off the canvas! Enormous heel pop! Hardin and Thunder now turn to exit, Hardin grabbing the top rope and pushing the middle down, allowing Brody Thunder to leave the ring first before Hardin himself exits along with the Syndicate. "Har-din! Har-din! Har-din!" Cut back to the broadcast table.] TD: I... well, I'm not sure what we've just seen. Perhaps the final appearance of J.W. Hardin in the IIWF Coliseum. Perhaps a passing of the torch to a new generation... SR: And more crosses than a Catholic church on Christmas eve, Dross. God bless J.W. Hardin... hell, God bless the United States of America and God bless the IIWF too while you're at it. TD: There's not a great deal I can say after that, folks. What a night it's been here in the Coliseum -- things continue to heat up as we draw ever nearer to Ring Wars III. There'll be plenty more action coming your way this week, and next week's live Saturday Night broadcast will feature the long-awaited rematch between Dan Kauffman and Serge Annis. Don't forget that the IIWF is now coming at you each and every day with incredible action -- and don't forget to dial the IIWF Hotline on 1-900-IIWF-325 for the latest news update tomorrow night. Until then, this is Tim Dross, for "Soundbite" Steve Roberts, saying: so long, everybody! [Cut to an overhead shot of the ring with the IIWF logo spinning on the still blood-stained canvas. 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 -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=+