##### ###### ### ########## ########## ########## #### ## ########## ########## ########## #### # #### ######## ##### ##### #### ## ##### #### #### #### #### ### #### #### #### #### ############# ######### #### #### ########### ######### #### #### #### #### #### ######### ######### ### #### #### ######### ######### ### ## #### ######## ######## ## # #### =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- ## =-=-=-= INTERNATIONAL INTERNET WRESTLING FEDERATION =============================================== S + A + T + U + R + D + A + Y N + I + G + H + T ----------------------------------------------- + LiVE! + IIWF Coliseum, Portland, Oregon + + 1 March, 1997 + [The opening graphics fade through to interior shots of the jam-packed 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, particularly the new Ring Wars III t-shirt. 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 downtown Portland, Oregon! Welcome to the IIWF Coliseum! Welcome to another live and loud edition of IIWF Saturday Night, the hottest two hours of wrestling action on the planet! SR: Thanks, of course, to me. TD: Howdy, folks. I'm Tim Dross, and beside me, as always, is my broadcast colleague, "Soundbite" Steve Roberts. We're only three weeks away from the IIWF's greatest pay-per-view spectacular to date, Ring Wars III, which will originate live from the Skydome in Toronto, Canada. Ten incredible matches have now been announced for that event, with the latest addition being the long-awaited signing of the match between "Lone Wolf" Brody Thunder and "Spotlight" Billy Shakespeare. We'll have more news on that incredible event later in the show tonight, direct from the IIWF President. SR: Who cares, Dross? Let's tell the morons about the action coming up tonight! TD: Hold on to your hats, folks, because we have nine incredible matches coming your way in the next one hundred and twenty minutes. As you heard at the top of the show, tonight's main event is one of the longest-awaited rematches in recent history, as Dan Kauffman and the "Epitome of Evil" Serge Annis lock up in an effort to settle the score of their inconclusive meeting nearly a year ago in the WCeW tournament. That night, Annis came out with his arm raised -- will it be the same story tonight? SR: Of course it will, Dross. Let's take a look at this: Kauffman's lost three in a row, the worst losing streak in his career. Annis is hotter than a branding iron right now, unbeaten in a month. Use your brain, Dross. TD: Dan Kauffman has certainly lost a lot of momentum in recent weeks, but arguably more than anybody else in IIWF history, Kauffman has always bounced back from setbacks stronger than ever. He could well bounce right back in the ring tonight. SR: Yeah, right. And Creed's gonna come out here and do a stand-up routine, too. TD: We'll see the first two quarterfinal matches in the IIWF United States Tag Team Championship Tournament in just a few minutes. The two constituent partnerships of Team Brutality, Pain Inc. and Night Patrol, have been drawn against one another in this round. That's going to be an interesting match, for sure. SR: Mr. Mic and Brenda Hawkings have something up their sleeves, Dross, I guarantee it. TD: In tonight's other quarterfinal match, the unorthodox Harlequins will face the equally wacky Team Sychosys -- the partnership of "Sychosys" Joe Petrow and prelim wrestler Majestic Maurice McArthur. SR: If Team Sychosys can get by G.W.R., they can certainly get past that bunch of clowns, the Harlequins. Mark my words, Dross, Petrow's going to be in that tournament final at Ring Wars III. TD: Strange as it may seem, it could happen. The IIWF Intercontinental Championship is going to be on the line later on tonight as Marty Warnett battles the Sandman, who has really been on a mission as of late to capture that title. Tonight, he could take it. SR: I sure hope so, Dross. It's about time _somebody_ took that belt from that bleeding-heart witless Welsh wuss, Farty Walnut. TD: We'll also find out just who the mysterious Spur has picked to be Ronnie Paris' opponent, and we've got some other incredible marquee matches coming your way: the Dirt Dog Unique Allah goes up against Mad Dog Watkins -- one of those two athletes is going to end up in the doghouse. The Subway Psycho will battle the impressive rookie, Creed, and the People's Champion will also be coming face to face with his Ring Wars III opponent, IIWF World Champion Casey "Blackheart" James, in a special in-ring interview later on tonight. SR: Those two are going to get it on tonight, Dross. I can feel it in my bones. TD: They're going to have to wait until Ring Wars III, Steve. On top of all that, Highwayman will battle the crazy clown, Cheshire, and the White Phoenix will go up against newcomer Requiem. All that coming up here tonight! SR: Cut the crap, Dross! Let's get to the action! TD: Patience is a virtue, Steve, and you're going to have to wait a few moments longer -- I understand that Larry Morton is high in the rafters of the Coliseum with the Harlequins. [Cut to Larry Morton, up in the rafters with The Harlequins, overlooking the arena:] LM: Tim, I'm up here standing above this jam packed crowd with the men who may very well be our first US Tag Champs, Tragedy and Chaos of the Harlequins. Gentlemen, I would guess that it is safe to say that you are more than prepared for the antics of "Sychosys" Joe Petrow and Majestic Maurice MacArthur. TRAGEDY: Mr. Morton, with the Harlequins, nothing is safe. Come my brother. [The Harlequins leave.] LM: Uh, back to you, Tim! [aside] How the hell am I going to get down from here? [Cut back to the announcers' table.] SR: What a moron. TD: Let's get up to the ring for tonight's opening encounter -- Team Brutality clash in the quarterfinals of the US Tag Title tourney. =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- IIWF UNITED STATES TAG TEAM CHAMPIONSHIP TOURNAMENT MATCH: -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Night Patrol vs. Pain Inc. ---------------------------------------------------------- WRITER: JB [Sparkplug Lee fall through the ropes attempting to enter the ring, to laughter.] SR: What a klutz. Is this really the image the IIWF wants to project to fans around the world? TD: Sparkplug Lee represents the epitome of professionalism, Steve. [Sparkplug dusts himself down, and continues:] SL: This contest, scheduled for one fall, is a quarterfinal match in the IIWF United States Tag Team Championship Tournament! ["Dragnet" Theme strikes up, to big heel pop] Introducing first, accompanied by Assistant District Attorney Brenda Hawkings, from Houston, Texas, at a total combined weight of 530 pounds, Lt. David Keene, Sgt. Jack Blazer, THE NIIIIIIIIIGHT PATROL! [Continued heel pop as Assistant D.A. Hawkings leads the uniformed pair, hissing at jeering fans with Lt. Keene. Sgt. Blazer walks, unperturbed by the fans' catcalls. A small group of Team Brutality supporters -- "The Brute Squad", according to their T-shirts -- offer encouragement as the two remove their police garb to reveal their trunks.] SL: And their opponents ["More Human Than Human" starts up, to a huge heel pop], led to the ring by Mr. Mic, from Jakarta, Indonesia, at a total combined weight of 585 pounds, Hellraiser and Morningstar, PAAAAAAAAAAIN, INC.! [Mr. Mic and Hades lead their team to the ring area. Hades stops at the end of asile, scanning the arena for trouble. Pain Inc. and Night Patrol talk and joke in the ring, exchanging hugs and high fives. Mr. Mic and Hawkings shake outside the ring and excange pleasantries. The negative pop continues.] TD: For two teams about to fight for a shot at the US Titles, they seem to be getting along okay, even for stablemates. SR: I wouldn't mind seeing a little head-busting myself, Dross, but these men know the meaning of the word "honor". They'll get through this all right. TD: _Your_ definition of honor, perhaps. Hang on... Larry Morton is still in the rafters of the arena, and he's met up with the Zodiac Connection... [Cut to Larry Morton, still high in the rafters of the Coliseum. He stands by Scorpio, Taurus and the Gemini twins.] LM: Yes, Tim, the Zodiac Connection are watching this match from a real bird's-eye view. Any comments, gentlemen? TA: Team Brutality, you will discover for yourselves the true power of the Zodiac! SC: You have toyed with destiny when you helped the Disciples steal the World Tag Titles from the Zodiac Connection! Now, you boys get to find out what happens when destiny fights back! [With that, the Zodiacs walk down the aisle into the audience in the cheap seats, where they are mobbed by young fans wanting autographs. Cut back to ringside. Blazer and Hellraiser step out, leaving Morningstar and Keene to start. The crowd pops in anticipation as the two eye each other intently, ready to lunge. Morningstar then shouts at Mr. Mic, who throws a small metal object into the ring...] TD: What's going on here? And what did Mr. Mic just throw into the ring? SR: That's a quarter! Maybe a nice game of billiards will decide this match. [Confused pop as Moringstar speaks to Keene, then tosses the coin into the air. Keene barks out "Tails!". As the coin lands tails, Morningstar snaps his fingers and stomps in light frustration, while Keene pumps his arms in joy.] SR: Are they trying to decide who's going to kick off? TD: Morningstar is lying down on his own! Keene covers him! [Referee looks around, confused, then counts... 1 - 2 - 3! Ding! Ding! Ding! The pop grows angrily as the four wrestlers meet in ring and resume chatting pleasantly. Mr. Mic peels off several bills to Hawking, presumably settling a wager. The Brute Squad Cheers.] SL: Your winners, as the result of a coi... er... pinfall, Night Patrol! TD: In all of my years as a broadcaster... SR: What a show of class! They're such good friends, they can't bear to attack each other! They're saving it for their enemies! Bravo! Bravo! [Roberts applauds] TD: That's wasn't even a wrestling match! The fans here and our worldwide television audience just got scammed out of a quarterfinal match by these goons! SR: What, you want them to take ten paces and draw pistols? These are men of civility and honor, Dross... That was a fairly-won victory by the Night Patrol, and Pain Inc. are showing excellent sportsmanship after that tight battle. TD: It was just a coin toss, Steve! SR: And what a finisher it was, too. TD: Hold on, Team Brutality is coming to the broadcast table. [Asst. D.A. Hawkings puts on a head set] BH: Been accusing any nuns of murder lately, Dross, or do you just pick on good cops? TD: Ms. Hawkings, how do you explain this... this... mockery of the Tournament? BH: It's a well-established fact that Night Patrol and Pain Inc. are the best two teams in the IIWF today. We decided for a summary ending, because a full match between our team would have been of such quality that no other match could compare to it! That would hurt the ratings, disappoint the fans in the long run, and we don't want that, do we? [Hawkings gives Mr. Mic the headset.] MM: As even you can now see, Dross, one of us is one their way to the US Titles, and the other will soon grab the World Titles. Brains and power always comes out on top, and that's what we've got as a solid unit! Who ever has those belts, just drop them off with us! [Hawkings kisses Roberts on the cheek as Team Brutality leaves, to substantial booing.] TD: What a joke. SR: I thought it was pretty funny, Dross. [As Team Brutality heads up the aisle, they are suddenly set upon by Scorpio and Taurus, the Zodiac Connection, who vault out of the crowd on opposite sides of the aisleway, brandishing steel rods. Huge pop!] TD: Oh my! The Zodiacs have steel pipes! We need help out here! [Scorpio quickly fells Morningstar, and Taurus clobbers Hellraiser over the head with the pipe. Keene and Blazer gang up on Scorpio, grabbing the pipe away from him, and Blazer jabs him in the ribs with the pipe, before Taurus approaches from behind and clips Blazer's knee, felling the ex-cop. Hades grabs Taurus from behind, but the Zodiac turns and catches him in the gut with the pipe. The big man goes down and the two managers, Mr. Mic and Brenda Hawking, drag their men out of harm's way. Huge pop! The Zodiacs approach the camera, and the microphone picks up the following words:] TA: [laughing] We're sorry! We're sorry! Is this the Zodiac Connection you wanted?! Well, you're going to get it! SC: [whispers] Retribution -- you will all learn what it is all about! [Security flood the aisle as the Zodiacs hop back over the barriers and disappear back into the crowd.] TD: Well, despite that attack, [winning team] advances into the semi-finals to face the winner of next week's quarterfinal between the Hangmen and Cold Spell. Right, it's time for this week's LaRue's Lair segment. Becky's guest this week is the "Real Deal" Luke Steele: [Cut to the Lair set. Becky is already on her couch. She blows kisses to the audience before addressing the camera.] BL: I know many of you are sad, perhaps grieving. Yes, the word is out. Your favorite red-head is no longer co-hosting the War Room. But don't be sad for Becky... be happy. I renegotiated with President Spreadbury and now I get to do LESS WORK for the SAME MONEY! All respect to Asst. DA Brenda Hawkings... but you'd be amazed at the bargaining power one gains when you walk into an office with the "Outlaw" J.W. Hardin. From a real man to I don't know what... here is "Real Deal" Luke Steele. [Steele enters in his wrestling gear. He steps out of his way to high five some fans then takes his seat. He waves to the fans until Becky gets irritated.] BL: "Real Deal"? The real what? What is the "Deal"? LS: Well there, Becca, the Real Deal is simply what Luke Steele is. Luke Steele isn't a joke, he's just one of the hardest working athletes in the world today. Ask "Jackhammer" JP Steele about that, he'll tell you exactly what the Real Deal is. BL: You and Ronnie Paris seem to be pissed at each other. I thought you were both good guys. Why are you picking on Widdle Wonnie? LS: Hold on a minute there, Becky. I'm not "picking on Widdle Wonnie". If you have the capacity to remember back this far, then you'll recall that I tried to help him out and make sure that he got a fair match against Spur. It might not have turned out that way, which was unfortunate. But I'm not losing any sleep over it, and Wonnie... I mean Ronnie should let it go as an honest mistake. BL: Why don't the two of you just kiss and make up? Don't answer that. Tiger-striped wrestling pants. Which rapper did you mug for those? LS: That's rich coming from someone who looks like she raided Sunny's dressing room. Well, Sunny or Marilyn Manson, one or the other. BL: Sunny? Never heard of her. Some bimbo perhaps? All your taste is in your mouth. Tiger-striped pants, Spur apparantly shredded them. Did that make you angry? LS: Not at all, Becky. I don't get attached to material things. Oh, by the way, I dented that new car of yours on the way in. BL: This isn't the time to be a funny man. If you even breathed on my precious... just remember that I have Hardin's pager number. You put your career on the line at Snow Brawl to get into the IIWF, but you've barely made an impact since then. Would you describe your career so far as "pitiful"? LS Pitiful? Well, let's see. I won the match at Snow Brawl, my first pro contest ever. Since then I've had a few matches stolen from me, one against the American Patriot and one against Brody Thunder. Granted my other win was against Mr. Damage and that was only because he drugged me during the match. No Becky I wouldn't call it pitiful, I'd call it growing pains. Talk to me in a year's time and we'll see if my career is pitiful. BL: Okay, fine. Then when is the "Real Deal" going to make his mark? LS: Starting at Ring Wars. I'm going to go out and win that Wild Card match with or without my teammates. And Paris, don't think I'm pulling any punches when it comes to taking you on. BL: Mr. Damage embarrased and humiliated you before a world wide audience. How can you even think you can make good on any promises? LS: Yeah, Damage got me real good, didn't he? Got me nice and unconscious. That's what starting at the bottom is all about Becky. Wait, look who I'm talking to about being on the bottom. BL: On the bottom? Oh, I don't think so. Wait... I get it. What DOES it take to embarrass Luke Steele? LS: A kiss from you would certainly do it, baby doll. Oh, you said embarrass, not sicken. BL: No, I said embarrass, not excite. Speaking of which, how do you think I would look in tiger stripes? LS: That depends. Was the tiger hungry before he ate you? BL: [Becky recomposes herself] As part of my new contract, the President asked me to avoid these sort of conversations. Let us return to that thing you do... what do you call it? Wrestling? Who is your "Dream" tag partner? LS: Being in a league as great as the IIWF, there are some pretty good choices. Billy Shakespeare, Marty Warnett, Takezo Musashi are some amazing athletes. Dan Kauffman is and always will be the heart and soul of the IIWF, so he'd be another great choice. But if you ask me, based on raw ability I'd say the dream partner for the Real Deal would be none other than my wildcard teammate, Otto Verhoeven. That doesn't mean I like the guy, but he's a hell of a juggernaut. BL: If I gave you a buck for every push-up you can do, how would you spent the twelve dollars? LS: If I really got desperate, I could spend that 12 bucks on you, LaRue. That is, if you had enough change to cover it. BL: Twelve bucks doesn't even get you in the door. If you could ban one wrestler from the IIWF forever, who would it be? LS: Well, Paris has given me grief for my attempted good deed, but he's just an annoyance. Nah, that lunatic Serge Annis should be thrown into an insane asylum and have the key swallowed. BL: Who is your hero? LS: My hero? Evander Holyfield is probably the closest to a hero that I've got. Inspirational story, the guy's forced to retire because of health problems, comes back, and upsets the mighty Mike Tyson for the title. Gotta love that. He's the reason I adopted the Real Deal moniker. BL: Last words: what are they? LS: One thing, mostly for all involved at the Wildcard match at Ring Wars. Otto, Hangman, and even you Damage listen up. Our team's going to win, it's just whether you three want to win the match alongside the Real Deal. And our opponents, Paris, American Patriot, Stetson, and Acorn, every one of you are going down to either the TKO or the Real Steele Press. At Ring Wars, Luke Steele's career is gonna hit hyperspeed. See ya, Baby Dolls. [Steele exits, making a point to slap hands with different fans. He waves a wagging finger at those who get too greedy.] BL: He called me "Baby Doll". I feel so unclean. I feel a need to take a shower and burn my clothes. Oh, ick. [Cut back to the broadcast table.] TD: Right now, let's get straight back up to the ring for tonight's second quarterfinal in the United States tag title tourney. =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- IIWF UNITED STATES TAG TEAM CHAMPIONSHIP TOURNAMENT MATCH: -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Team Sychosys vs. The Harlequins ---------------------------------------------------------- WRITER: DK [Sparkplug Lee takes to the ring once more.] RA: The following contest, set for one fall, is another match in the IIWF United States Tag team Championship Tournament! [Pop!] Introducing first, at a combined weight of 545 pounds, accompanied to the ring by Comedy and Melody... Chaos, Tragedy... THE HARLEQUINS! ["My Lover's Box" starts playing, and most of the fans start to pop as Harlequins melody and Comedy run out from the entranceway! The superballs are a-flying, and apparently, there is a little game of "tag" going on, as Comedy flies into the ring trying to avoid the chasing Melody! The fans laugh at the antics, and one of the multiple superballs flies in the crowd, popping one guy in the face and knocking his glasses off! While all this is going on, Harlequins Tragedy and Chaos follow behind, Tragedy into the extra "tag" game with the other two, and Chaos seemingly sedated and waiting for the match...] TD: This is somewhat of a first for the IIWF, Steve. Never in our illustrious history has there been an ongoing game of tag at the ringside area while superballs fly! SR: And if Petrow and the Sychopaths have their way tonight, there will never be another scenerio like this again, either! TD: Hey, these Harlequins can wrestle... They did defeat the High Plains Drifters to get to this point, so Petrow and McArthur can't afford to write these two off at any cost! SR: But they will be written off, and I imagine it will be the hard way... Petrow's way, for sure! [The Harlequins music stops suddenly, and is replaced by Black Sabbath's "Ironman". Lights flare into action at the entranceway, from which emerges Triple M... "Majestic" Maurice McArthur... alone. The Harlequins in the ring stop and watch down the aisle as McArthur walks slowly to the ring. he stops and points at the Harlequins, then at himself, then makes a cutthroat gesture...] TD: Ha! I'd like to see the guy try! SR: But he's doing his job, Tim, 'cause that gave the opening for Petrow! The Sychotic one is in the house! [Joe Petrow emerges from a group of about seven Sychopats at ringside, leaps over the crowd barrier, and while the Harlequins are distracted by McArthur, Petrow grabs the famed bag of tricks... Superballs and all... and tosses it to his group of Sychopaths! The fans are immediately in the bag, finding the "Happy Hammer" and braining each other with it! Did I mention superballs yet? The whole ringside area becomes infested with bouncing plastic balls, as one Sychopath _swallows_ one and starts jumping up and down!] TD: That's insane! SR: That's damn funny, if you ask me! TD: Well, Petrow took the bag of tricks out of this match in a hurry, and that's a wise move... that lethal yo-yo, the goofy Happy Hammer, and lord knows whatever else is in there... it has been taken out of play. Advantage Sychopaths. SR: Well stated, Dross, but the Harlequins aren't happy no more! [When Petrow slides back into the ring, he is met by a FURIOUS Chaos, who proceeds to lift Petrow up with a double choke hold! Chaos throws him into the corner with force, and when Petrow bounces off, clobbers the daredevil with a huge right hand! Petrow backs into a corner.. the wrong corner, as Tragedy hauls him up and holds him for an avalanche from Chaos... that Petrow dodges! Chaos crashes into Tragedy, who flies off into the crowd barrier on the floor! Chaos stumbles back in the ring and is rolled up by Petrow! 1 -- 2 -- Kickout! McArthur takes his position in the Sychopath corner holding the tag rope diligently, as Petrow brings the big Chaos up and Petroplexes him! Heel Pop!] TD: Petrow just bodyslammed a 325-pound man! SR: The guy is more than just a circus sideshow freak, Dross. The guy is a pure athlete. [Harlequin Tragedy makes his way back to the apron, and seeing this, for some unknown reason, Petrow allows Chaos to tag in the smaller Harlequin. As soon as Tragedy enters, Petrow ambushes, using two solid uppercuts and an over-the-shoulder jawbreaker to send Tragedy down. Petrow runs off the ropes, but a somersault legdrop becomes unsuccessful as Tragedy moves. Petrow rolls and uses the ropes to get up, and springs again on the risen Tragedy, attempting a quick crucifix. Tragedy drops back with force, and Petrow slams into the canvas HARD! Crowd Pop! Tragedy gets up and drops a leg of his own, then drags Petrow up and whips him off the ropes, attempting a flying cross-body block! Somehow, Petrow backflips through and powerslams Tragedy in one motion! HUGE POP! Cover... 1 -- 2 -- Foot under the bottom rope!] TD: What a move that was from Petrow! He backflipped around so that he would land on top of Tragedy after the cross body block! This guy may seem insane, but he knows what he's doing! SR: And the teamwork from Team Sychosys is amazing! Check those frequent tags out! McArthur has really come ten-fold. TD: Steve Roberts, the epitome of wit. [Petrow drags Tragedy up and sends him into a neutral corner, chopping away with force! Petrow whips the Harlequin across the ring and into the other corner, then follows in... and stops just short of a raised boot! Petrow points to Tragedy, turns around, yells "AND I'M SMART, TOO!", then turns back around and is flipped by a HUGE clothesline of Tragedy! Petrow lands on the back of his head, and Tragedy hooks a leg for a pin... 1 -- 2 -- Kickout! Petrow tries to back away, but never looks at his own corner, instead attempting a desperate head butt, and being face slammed into the mat! Petrow is brought to his feet by Tragedy, who tags Chaos before whipping Petrow off the ropes. Tragedy kicks Petrow in the gut, then Chaos sets for a Jacknife!] TD: Here it comes... OUCH! SR: That was a great reversal by Petrow! He simply rammed the back of his skull where the sun don't shine! TD: [pause] That's one way of describing it... [Petrow runs off the ropes as Chaos is dubbled over, but Chaos straighens in time and gets Petrow by the throat, executing a HUGE chokeslam onto the canvas! Petrow lies motionless as the cover is made... 1 -- 2 -- Kickout, just barely! The crowd is into the match with oohs and ahhs, and Chaos brings Petrow to his feet and suplexes him back down! Chaos tags Tragedy, who climbs the ropes as Petrow gets up. Tragedy jumps and connects with a big missile dropkick! BIG POP! Tragedy doesn't cover, but climbs another corner and sets to leap again as Petrow rises! A second missile dropkick finds the mark, and the crowd starts coming to life! Tragedy yells "ONE MORE!", and climbs up top again. This time, Petrow leaps up quick, runs up and into the corner, then leaps up and cross-body blocks Tragedy AND himself OVER the steel post and all the way out into the crowd, tumbling over the steel crowd barrier! Shocked pop!] TD: That... is... the... most... incredible... thing... I... have... ever... seen! SR: Wow! If either man can continue after that, I'll be amazed! [Much to everyone's disbelief, Petrow starts to get to his feet as Melody and Comedy attempt to help Tragedy! Petrow walks back into the ring as Chaos comes over, picks up Tragedy, and carries him back into the ring! Petrow, seeing Tragedy rolled back in, makes a cover.. 1 -- 2 -- Chaos saves Tragedy, attacking Petrow! McArthur decides to do something and blindsides Chaos... bad move. Chaos turns around and shoves McArthur so hard he hurdles over the ropes to the outside! But it gives Petrow a chance, and he superkicks Chaos down! Chaos gets right to his feet, and Petrow is surprised! Petrow rakes the big guy's eyes, then runs off the ropes and leaps with a forearm... that has no effect! Chaos simply kicks Petrow in the gut, then drops him with a big DDT! Tragedy starts to recover and rolls to his corner as Chaos stomps away on Petrow!] TD: The Harlequins have taken control of this match again, as Petrow is being pummelled inside the ring! SR: Hey, maybe a tag would be a good idea here. McArthur is back on the apron, and as great as Petrow is, he can't take this kind of punishment forever! TD: I agr... HEY! [Harlequins Comedy and Melody invade the broadcast booth...] HC: You know, I should sue those Sychopaths! HM: They took our fun bag! I can't believe they took our fun bag! HC: Why, if I had my Happy Hammer, I'd show them a thing or two! HM: Remember how you broke that last one? HC: Right across my forehead! Snapped like a twig! HM: Lalalalalalalalalalalalalalalala... [The Harlequins keep this up as Chaos continues dominating Petrow, lifting him in a HUGE press slam! Petrow rolls to the outside, and appears to want to walk away from the match, shaking his head. Then, with a flourish, Dirt Dog Unique Allah appears at the head of the aisle, looking dead at Petrow! Petrow sees Allah, starts yelling, then promptly turns back around and gets in the ring! Chaos attempts to drag petrow up, but Petrow unloads an uppercut to the groin...] TD: That was blatent! Disqualify him, ref! SR: Are we watching the same match, Dross? [...then drops Chaos with a punch that hurt his own hand! Petrow doesn't seem to care as he stomps and punches away on the bigger man. Eventually, Chaos is able to roll to his own corner and tag in Tragedy, who is grabbed by the head and flung over the ropes by Petrow! Petrow is fuming as he brings Tragedy up and drops him on his head via a snap-brainbuster! Petrow clobbers Chaos again for good measure, and Chaos crashes back down to the floor! Petrow grabs Tragedy, then runs off the ropes, and gets tripped by Allah! Petrow is then drilled by Tragedy's elbow, and falls to the canvas. Petrow is dragged up and whipped off the ropes by Tragedy, who attempts to leapfrog the Sycho, but petrow puts the brakes on, and when Tragedy lands in front of petrow, the Sychopath unloads with the Bullet Train to Hell! HEEL POP! One last shot on Chaos leaves hin on the floor once more, and then Petrow turns towards Allah, shouting obscenities towards his enemy. Allah spits on Petrow, and Petrow does something never before seen...] TD: Petrow just tagged Triple M! SR: All McArthur has to do is pin Tragedy! He's unconscious in the middle of the ring, and Petrow is going after Allah! [McArthur is told to pin Tragedy before petrow leaps over the ropes and onto Allah, igniting a wild brawl that heads up the aisleway! As Allah and Petrow grapple, McArthur does the "Double M Hand Sign", Then covers Tragedy... 1 -- 2 -- KICKOUT! KICKOUT!] SR: Oh boy, someone better tell Petrow he's in trouble now! [McArthur, having been thrust into a competitive situation, absolutely freezes wondering what to do! Yragedy slowly rises, and McArthur decides to start punching Tragedy, and is knocked for a loop by a HUGE haymaker! The magnificent one slumps near the ropes as Tragedy stands over him, and he smiles. McArthur is dragged up and brought to center ring, where he is spiked with a BRUTAL side suplex! Tragedy tags in Chaos, and Chaos grabs McArthur and sets him for a powerbomb as Tragedy climbs the ropes!] TD: This could be the MAXIMUM HARLEQUIN! Petrow is at the head of the aisle, and he's just noticed the fate of McArthur! He's shoved Allah away and is tearing back to the ring! SR: Will he be in time? [Chaos lifts McArthur high into the air, and at the apex of the lift, Tragedy launches with a missile dropkick that connects on McArthur's jaw as he is then planted with the powerbomb from Chaos! HUGE POP! Cover.. 1 -- Petrow is at full speed, and he's closing in... 2 -- Petrow slides into the ring... 3! Petrow is a fraction of a second too late! Both Harlequins roll out of the ring and start walking away with Comedy and Melody as Petrow bangs his head on the mat in frustration!] TD: Joe Petrow tagged in McArthur, and it proved to be his undoing! What a move the Maximum Harlequin was! SR: I thought the Sychopaths had it in their hands! It's all Allah's fault, if he'd keep his nose where it belongs... TD: Wait a minute, Steve, we've got more action in the ring! [Petrow brings McArthur to his feet, then gives him the "Bullet Train to Hell" to a shocked pop! Petrow gives a "Double M Hand Sign", then spits on McArthur before leaving the ring...] TD: Joe Petrow is going to pay for his actions at some point, and when he does, he won't be a happy mam. His US Tag Championship hopes have been shattered, Steve. SR: Hey, he'll find something bigger and badder to accomplish, and if I were the Dirt Dog... and thank heavens I'm not... I'd be nervous for the next couple of weeks. [The crowd is buzzing, people are talking, and then, without any music, a man walks down the aisle, strutting with plenty of confidence.] TD: Hang on... I've seen this guy on television. He shouldn't be here! SR: What the...?! I don't believe this. Get security out here! Are we being invaded? [The man's arrogance catches the entire crowd's attention. He's only about 6'1", and makes it through the ropes -- stepping under the third and over the second. He snaps his fingers impatiently until a mic comes way. He's wearing black boots, loose latex black pants, loose black latex shirt, black buzzed hair, and black shades around his eyes. He has a black belt around his waist with a gold plaque in the middle. He nods to the crowd.] SR: Hey, I'm a liberal kind of guy, but we do not want this man in the IIWF. TD: Fans, for those of you who don't recognise this individual, this is a wrestler who goes by the name of Mr. Robinson. He competes in the so-called "loop" leagues... And I have heard nothing about any appearances from this man here tonight. SR: The producer's going crazy in my earpiece, Dross. TD: Can we cut to commercial? Where's security? [Mr. Robinson raises his microphone and speaks to the stunned crowd:] MR: Settle down people... You may never have seen something this good... This _right_... But try to contain yourselves... [staring at the fans] Yeah... There is a _definite_ reason why you've never watched something this great... Because you have been watching the IIWF... That's right, you heard me... Everyone here has been wasting their welfare checks on the _housing projects_ of wrestling... [Heel pop!] TD: [over the headset] Can we cut away from this? Fans, we're sorry for this interruption. MR: Why doesn't everyone swing into the "loop"? Yeah... Gunnar f'n' Gaines... Dark Destroyer... A _real_ man's territory. There's a _damn_ good reason why "Offensive" Alex Adams never stepped into here... Because "here"... [Mr. Robinson ponders "here". He walks around the ring, he takes a couple of exaggerated sniffs, he pokes the top turnbuckle of a corner, and carefully inspects the ring.] Because "here" looks like a shit hole, smells like a shit hole, feels like a shit hole... So the IIWF _must_ be a shithole. And only a retarded f'n' Gump would pay to see this... TD: [over the headset] Fans, I'm really sorry for this outburst. We have security on their way down to the ring... MR: So there is a reason why your... So, there's a reason why of your "superstars", not one has ever stepped foot into the "loop", because he would be handed his ass on a silver platter. Right now... I am clowning the IIWF... Many IIWFers think that they've got a bit of a problem on their hands... What should they do? Well, simple, easy to understand problems all have simple, easy, to understand _wrong_ answers, son. And the half-assed solution that you "men" have thought of was... competing in the SUPERSTAR SUMMIT... [Mr. Robinson's face suddenly lights up with happiness...] TD: [over the headset] This much at least is true. The IIWF will indeed be a part of that huge inter-federational Summit at Wembley Stadium, London, England, in the first week of April. MR: But now! The LOOP can not only _talk_ shit on the IIWF, but also _beat_ the shit out of the IIWF. [Mr. Robinson quietly smirks, and begins to walk around the ring with his arms outstretched, fist high, and begins to just stand letting the crowd get a good view of him. Meanwhile, security personnel come down to ringside and surround the squared circle. Griff Griffing, the security chief, tries to investigate getting the microphone cut off.] TD: [over the headset] We need action taken here! Where's the IIWF President? SR: [over the headset] He's not going to come out here, Dross -- this guy would beat the snot out of him. MR: _I_ am a product of the "loop"! If anyone in this building tries to speak to me, I will _rip_ them a new asshole... That goes for every single one of you people, _except_... That's right... _Except_ one man... There's one man _in_ this building as we speak, who's _the_ man. While the IIWF all stands together and tries to lift up my jock strap, I'll maybe introduce him.... now? Nah... Not now, I think it'd be unfair to the "loop" to introduce the big man at the present time... I don't think it's fair for the "loop" to produce more excitement in five minutes here, than what actual IIWF 'tards have done in years. TD: [over the headset] This guy is way out of line. SR: [over the headset] Security should haul this guy's ass out of the ring right now. What's stopping them?! MR: Everyone knows who I am talking about... A man that became great, and made the "loop" great with him... Everyone knows who he is... And I'm telling you this... _LISTEN_ to him... You just might... God forbid... f'n' learn something... If Socrates was alive today, and he started to speak, I hope you'd have the good sense to listen... If Confucious was here in front of you, spittin' out some wisdom, you'd listen to him... Well, the man who I'm thinking about is your _worst_ nightmare... and TRUST me... You'll listen to him... Everyone does, or risks castration... For right now, the chumpies in the crowd have been blessed a _little_ too much with what none of you can have and all of you want... Mister Robinson! ["Here" by Luscious Jackson starts up over the PA system, and Robinson parades around the ring for a few more moments before vaulting over the ropes to the floor. Immediately, security personnel swarm on him, but he manages to shrug them off, and makes it over the crowd barrier into the stands, security in pursuit. Cut back to the announcers' table. Both announcers shake their heads in disbelief.] TD: Fans, I sincerely apologise for that intrusion. SR: That guy really has a nerve, Dross. Those "loop" guys are so anal they have their heads up their own backsides! TD: Mr. Robinson may be planning to return to the ring later on tonight, but I'm sure that the IIWF President and the security staff here in the Coliseum will eject him from the arena. I hope they press charges. We must move on. This next match has been one of the best-kept secrets in the IIWF. Nobody has a clue just who Ronnie Paris will be wrestling in a few moments -- save for Spur, the mysterious masked man who has hand-picked a champion for this encounter. SR: I know. TD: Who? SR: What? TD: Who? SR: Who? TD: Yeah, who? SR: Are you practicing to be an owl, Dross? TD: No, _who_ is Paris wrestling? SR: The opponent picked by Spur. TD: I know, but who _is_ that? SR: He's that masked man with the rooster on his tights. TD: [sigh] I give up, let's go down to ringside. =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Ronnie Paris vs. Mystery Opponent =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= WRITER: CS [The spotlight shines on Sparkplug Lee while he is struggling with the zipper of his pants. The pop from the crowd catches Lee's attention and he blushingly reads out the ring introductions.] RA: This following contest in scheduled for one fall with a thirty minute time limit. ["We Are the Champions" by Queen starts up over the PA system] First, about to make his way down to ringside, weighing in at 210lbs, hailing from El Paso, Texas... Ronnie Paris! [An ethusiaatic pop as Ronnie Paris sprints down to ringside clapping the hands of several fans. Parris makes his way up the ringside stairs and then catapults himself over the top rope and into the ring. Paris then starts doing warmups in his corner awaiting his opponent's introductions.] RA: His opponent... um... uh... [looks off to the timekeeper] Who _is_ his opponent? [the timekeeper shrugs] ["A Mad Russian Christmas" by the Trans-Siberian Orchestra plays over the sound system as Spur struts out of the curtain and makes his way down to the ring to a huge heel pop. Spur rolls into the ring and begins to trash talk Ronnie Paris but the enraged Paris is held back by the ref. Spur soaks up the negative reaction from the crowd until he snatches the mic from Sparkplug.] SP: Now Widdle Wonnie Paris, I bet you want to know who your opponent is going to be, right, buddy? Well, I could pick almost anyone here and you would be squashed like a bug. [Mr. Damage comes out of the crowd and rolls into the ring. Big heel pop!] Oh no, watch your back! [Damage levels Paris from behind with a big lariat. It is now obvious that Mr. Damage is the mystery opponent for the Texan. Damage pulls Paris up by the hair only to knock him back down with a European uppercut. Damage then bounces off the ropes and delivers a harsh elbowdrop which finds its mark right on top of Ronnie's chest. The heel pop is continuous throughout as Damage throws Paris through the ropes. Damage is ferocious on the outside as he labels Paris with several forearms, knees and kicks. Damage then rams Paris hard into the steel ringpost which sends Ronnie to the floor clutching his head. Damage then stands over the fallen star, taunting him. Damage then lifts Paris back up, only to hotshot the youngster onto the ring barrier. soliciting a tremendous heel reaction.] SR: Boy, did Paris get suckered in this one! I don't think we'll ever see this little puke again. TD: Don't count Ronnie out quite yet. He can take a quite amazing amount of punishment. [Paris lays seemingly unconscious on the floor. Damage then climbs up to the ring apron and launches legdrop onto Paris on the arena floor. Huge heel pop!] SR: That was like a Thunderstruck on the outside. Paris is finished! TD: I refuse to count him out. SR: Yeah, but you refuse to take a bath, too. [Paris begins to cough up a bit of blood, much to the delight of Mr. Damage. The ref begins to demand Damage to bring Paris back inside, which Damage does -- but not before slamming Paris' head on every step on the ringside stairway. Damage then runs his thumb across his throat as he scoops up Paris and slams him to the mat. Damage climbs up the top rope as the heel pop crescendos, and Damage launches himself into the air for the Thunderstruck -- but hits nothing but canvas as Paris rolls out of the way at the last moment! Tremendous face pop. Unfortunately Paris can't capitalise as he is in too much pain. Damage slowly gets to his feet and limps over to the beaten and bruised Paris. Damage lifts up the fallen Paris and throws out a clothesline but Paris ducks around Damage and pulls off a Russian legsweep.] SR: Where did Paris get that from?! TD: Paris is a master at pulling rabbits out of his hat. SR: What's that got to do with wrestling, Dross? TD: Never mind, Steve... [Both men lay on the mat in great pain but it is Damage who rises to his feet first and goes off the ropes to attempt an elbowdrop -- but Paris rolls out of the way again. Paris gets to his feet and runs off the ropes and attempts a flying forearm -- but Damage ducks and Paris goes flying over the top rope. Luke Steele slowly walks down to ringside and waits at the end of the aisle. Damage notices Steele and starts yelling insults, but this is enough time to allow Paris to regroup, and Paris rolls back into the ring to roll up the big Australian from behind. The ref gets into position - 1 - 2 - and a huge kickout! Paris gets right back up and runs off the ropes and hits Damage with a flying forearm this time. Paris then goes behind Damage and executes a big atomic drop which causes Damage to bounce back to the mat. Paris keeps the momentum and rushes off the ropes, nailing his opponent with a big elbowsmash. Paris then lifts Damage back up for a Northern Lights suplex. The ref checks the shoulders - 1 - 2 - and another kickout. Damage gets to his feet and tries a lariat -- Paris ducks and hits Damage with a dropkick. Paris continues his assault with several arm tosses, monkey flips and several takedowns.] SR: Paris may be on the offensive but these moves aren't high impact enough to take out Damage. [Paris brings Damage back up and whips him off the ropes. Paris jumps into the air and hooks his legs around the neck of Mr. Damage, but he is unable to bring him over for a frankensteiner, so Damage brings him down with a power bomb. Damage decides not to go for the pin, but taunt Steele instead. Steele doesn't take the insults lightly and jumps up on the apron to challenge the big man. Damage ignores him and goes back to Paris who has now recuperated and lands several shots on the lower torso of the wrestler from down under. Paris then runs off the ropes but collides with Luke Steele who is up on the apron. This knocks Paris to the canvas and allows Damage to drop an elbow and a cover - 1 - 2 - kickout. Paris then rolls out to the outside and begins yelling at Steele. Steele professes his innoncence but that isn't enough for Paris, who gives the youngster a big shove. Steele, taking offense to it, shoves Paris back. This causes Paris to fire back a big shot to the head, and in turn Steele punches Paris. The crowd begins to pop as the two fan favourites slug it out on the outside. Damage just looks on with a huge smile in his face as he sees his two enemies take each other apart.] SR: I thought these two morons where buddies. TD: It seems Steele has screwed up one time too many for Paris' liking. [Spur then makes his way down to ringside and takes a foldable steel chair at ringside. Spur comes behind Steele and blasts him over the head with the chair, before doing the same to Paris. Spur lays the boots to Paris while Damage rolls outside and starts to beat up Steele. Spur, seemingly tired of beating up on Paris, picks up the chair, winds up and nails Damage across the back to a surprised pop. Damage crumples to the floor in great pain. Spur then rolls into the ring as three bodies are laid out on the floor. Spur stands in the middle of the ring, arms raised, to a huge heel pop. The wrestlers on the outside begin to stir, which Spur sees as the right time to make a exit through the crowd.] TD: I am shocked! It seems Spur likes making enemies. SR: I don't think anyone can trust the man called Spur. TD: I'll tell you this, one day somebody is going to catch up to Spur and he will pay for all of his antics. SR: I don't know about that, Dross. Spur is an awfully cagey competitor. I think he will be a thorn in the IIWF's side for a while yet. [Damage takes off into the crowd after Spur while Paris and Steele make their way groggily back up the aisle. The ring announcer raises his microphone:] RA: Ladies and gentlemen, the referee has ruled this match a no contest! [Big mixed pop from the crowd.] TD: I don't see what option the official could have had there, Steve. That was chaos. SR: Just the way I like it, Dross. TD: Let's get straight back up to the ring for our next encounter -- I just hope we don't get any more unwelcome interruptions. =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Highwayman vs. Cheshire =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= WRITER: DK ["Firestarter" starts to play over the PA system as Cheshire, a cowboy hat on his head, appears in the aisle. Cheshire makes a few motions to the crowd, earning him some jeers which he revels in. Cheshire then throws his hat deep into the crowd, and as some "lucky" fan catches it, Cheshire enters the ring...] RA: The following contest is set for one fall. Currently in the ring, from Germany, weighing 220 pounds, this is CHESHIRE! TD: Well, Steve, we have what is truly and international battle on our hands at the moment, as Germany's disliked Cheshire meets England's own Highwayman. SR: We all know that Germany is always the conquerer in these situations, so I predict an easy Cheshire win here tonight! TD: I disagree, but at the moment I feel inclined to bring up some past history. As you may recall, it was Cheshire who stole Nightwing's eagle, and the Highwayman is a good friend of Nightwing. That could motivate the Highwayman here. SR: What's the big deal about a stupid eagle anyway? If Nightwing shows his face, he'll be mighty sorry he did. RA: And his opponent, from Leeds, England, weighing 285 pounds, this is the HIGHWAYMAN! ["Stand and Deliver" plays, and spotlights pick up the form of the Highwayman as he steps in from the entranceway. The crowd comes to life as they cheer the Brit on, and the Highwayman makes his way to the ring hi-fiving several fans. However, before he reaches the ring, his music stops, and the lights begin to flicker. The big Highwayman looks around in confusion as the crowd falls silent.] TD: What's going on here?! SR: Shut up, Dross -- it's Deathbringer! [Big heel pop as Deathbringer's voice echoes across the arena. Highwayman looks around, trying to determine its source:] DB: Having risen from the dead you know the difference between life and death, Highwayman... Enjoy your last portions of life, as at Ring Wars III, I will end your existence once again... The dead man will rise and you will again be buried in the ground so cold... One man down, two to go... [The lights rise again and Highwayman, shaking his head with a small smile on his masked face, continues to the ring.] TD: In any case, this should be a highly competitive matchup. Cheshire will want to turn this into a fast-paced match; Highwayman wants to ground Cheshire and keep the speed at a minimum. SR: It will be a battle of wills as to who controls the match... Hey, I think a fan is over there distracting Cheshire! [Cheshire is indeed very vocal with a young fan at ringside, and it gives the Highwayman a chance to attack... except Cheshire wasn't really distracted, and used the con to fire away some hard rights into the gut of the bigger Highwayman. The Brit doubles over, and Cheshire uses this to run off the ropes and dropkick the big man down! Pop! Cheshire brings the Highwayman back up, whips him off the ropes, and hits a quick diving elbow on the return, sending the Highwayman down again! The Highwayman pulls himself to his feet, and is hiptossed! The Highwayman comes up off the mat again, and this time he catches a kick from Cheshire and spins him around, using a big back suplex to stop Cheshire!] TD: Cheshire really pulled one over on the Highwayman in the beginning, but the big guy is starting to get into the flow of the match now. SR: Which means that Cheshire better speed this match up again, and soon! Otherwise, he'll be a pancake! [The Highwayman brings Cheshire to his feet and slams him down with authority, then bounds off the ropes and leaps up with a big elbow drop that hits its target! Cover... 1 -- Cheshire is much too quick, and gets out. Cheshire pulls himself up, and the Highwayman sends him off the ropes... Cheshire leapfrogs the big guy and comes off the other side with a cross-body block, only to be caught in midair! Cheshire wiggles around, and is able to twist so that his legs wrap around Highwayman's head, and Cheshire uses a head-scissors takedown to put the Highwayman on the mat! Pop! The Highwayman gets back to his feet, and is met with a BIG flying forearm that sends him crashing down! Cover... 1 -- 2 -- Highwayman's power sends Cheshire flying off!] TD: The contrast of these two men has become increasingly evident... Highwayman would much rather use his power, and Cheshire wants to attack with quickness and aerial skill. [Cheshire kips to his feet and puts a headlock on the rising Highwayman. The big guy shoves Cheshire off the ropes, and a shoulderblock does not move Highway. Cheshire runs off the ropes again, but slides beneath Highway's legs and yanks them outfrom under them, sending Highwayman down flat on his exposed chin! Quick as a cat, Cheshire bounds to the top rope between the turnbuckles and executes a moonsault onto the Highwayman's back! BIG POP! The Highwayman grunts out in pain as he is rolled over... 1 -- 2 -- shoulder up! Cheshire brings the big man to his feet, then leaps up on the turnbuckles and does a twisting bulldog slam! Several cameras flash as the high-risk move connects! 1 -- 2 -- Kickout!] TD: Cheshire has swung this match around in his favor again, and he's really using his aerial game to perfection! The Highwayman has no idea what to expect next! SR: Go get him, Ches! He's all yours. [Cheshire pulls the Highwayman up and actually slams the bigger man, then goes up to the top rope again, launching with a perfect swan splash! POP! Cover... 1 -- 2 -- Highwayman powers out, and gets back to his feet! Cheshire runs off the ropes, ducks a clothesline of the Highwayman, and uses a crucifix to pin the bigger man... 1 -- 2 -- Kickout! There is commotion at the head of the aisle as the Native American Nightwing appears, concentrating on the ring as he walks down. Cheshire does not see him, and continues on the offensive, sending the Highwayman into the corner and chopping him down.] TD: Well, as I thought, here comes Nightwing! SR: And if that fool tries anything, Cheshire will make him regret it for a long time! [Cheshire sends the Highwayman into the opposite corner, and follows in, right square into a boot of the Highwayman! Cheshire staggers out, and the Highwayman simply bowls over him woth a shoulderblock! Cheshire slowly gets back to his feet, and is hit with a fantastic over-the-top belly-to-belly suplex! BIG POP! Cheshire backs into a corner, and the Highwayman climbs up to label him with punches. The crowd chants along: "1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - 6 - 7 - 8 - 9 - 10!" The Highwayman hops down, and Cheshire staggers out before being flipped by a Highwayman clothesline! HUGE POP! Cover... 1 -- 2 -- Kickout!] TD: The Highwayman has really turned the match around in his favor, and I still don't believe that Cheshire has spotted Nightwing! SR: Cheshire will pull it back together, it's just a matter of time... [The Highwayman pulls up Cheshire and whips him off the ropes, but Cheshire dodges a second clothesline attempt, and then rolls over a backdrop attempt. When the Highwayman turns around, Cheshire catches him flush with a front-face enziguiri, dropping the big man instantly! BIG HEEL POP!] TD: That could be the match right there! [Just as Cheshire starts to drop down for a pin, he spots Nightwing on the outside. Distracted, he walks over to the ropes, and the two men start jawing at one another, Nightwing clearly saying "The spirits demand vengeance!", as the two continue to jaw. Just as Cheshire is about to confront Nightwing on the outside, Cheshire is pulled back by the Highwayman, who hits his "Daylight Robbery" Neckbreaker! HUGE POP! The cover - 1 -- 2 -- 3!] SR: No way! [As the bell sounds, Nightwing tears into the ring and starts ripping into Cheshire with everything he has. The barrage of fists from Nightwing bloodies Cheshire's face, and the Highwayman has to restrain Nightwing from doing any further damage. The bloodied Cheshire rolls out of the ring and stumbles back towards the entrance, as Nightwing and the Highwayman stand in the ring receiving cheers.] RA: The winner of the match... THE HIGHWAYMAN! TD: Nightwing's anger got the best of him after the match. I've never seen him that out of control. You have to know that he's thinking about his eagle. SR: Who cares about his eagle?! The fact is, Nightwing just scarred Cheshire with both a loss to the Highwayman _and_ a wound that won't heal real fast... that cut was ugly, and Nightwing just gave Cheshire his own motivation now. TD: This one goes down as a win for the Highwayman, but this book isn't completely written just yet. Nightwing and Cheshire will have to meet one on one very soon to settle this once and for all. Well, the beat goes on here in the IIWF. Our next encounter is one that animal lovers have been awaiting since early December when these two men joined the IIWF. SR: Yeah, a match only Sidney Lumet could love. TD: That's exactly... Sidney Lumet? SR: Yeah, Dross. Sidney Lumet. Famous French post new wave director. Come on. "Dog Day Afternoon". Pacino, Broderick, Durning -- "Dog Day Afternoon"! Don't you go to the movies, Dross? TD: Well, I liked the Duke... SR: Dammit Dross, get with the program! "Dog Day Afternoon", nominated for six Academy Awards including Best Actor and Best Original Screenplay. Miss Carol Kane captured America's hearts in her scene-stealing performance as the tormented ingenue. "Dog Day Afternoon", heavily influenced by Goddard's earliest works, have you ever seen "The Red Shoes", Dross? Do I have to do everything around here? TD: Well, Steve, I had no idea you were such a film buff. SR: I'm a very cultured individual, moron. TD: Before we get to ringside, let's go to some comments from Dirt Dog Unique Allah: [Cut to backstage. Dirt Dog is staring into the camera, stumbling and bumbling and looking sick, he's wearing just his boxer shorts, a long, jagged scar is visible on his stomach. Medusa stands behind him, bracing him.] UA: Medusa says I'm facing a great big hunk o' man in you, Mad Dog. I don't know if I like the sound of stuff like that right there. I don't know at all. Sounds like you're sweet on him, 'dusa! Say it ain't so. MR: [looking nervous] Of course not. Why would I ever be attracted to a great big, tall, handsome hunk like that? I mean, he's only beautiful. He's nothing like you, Unique. UA: Yeah ... that's right. Hey, wait a minute, that's wrong. I don't like that kind of talk and such. No, you got it all wrong. I'm supposed to be the good one. I'm the good doggy. He's the mad doggy and they shoot mad dogs, don't they? MR: Unique, just focus on the match. UA: Naw, you hurt my feelin' now. Why don't nobody love me? Shakeemah done left me, you making eyes at the Mad Dog! This is some crazy stuff, got me confused like a muhfuh! MR: Unique, I'm in your corner. I promise. Mad Dog, you say every dog has his day. I certainly hope you're right. You can pretend I am a cat and chase me around anytime. Hugs and hisses. [Her eyes sparkle] UA: Naw, that didn't sound right at all! Medusa, what are you saying! What are you sayin'! Cut the camera off! Cut it off now, muhfuh! Now! I said! [Cut back to ringside.] =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Mad Dog Watkins vs. Dirt Dog Unique Allah =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= WRITER: JJ [Sparkplug Lee is momentarily drawn to a flock of faceless IIWF backstage crewpeople coming from behing the curtain and moving down the aisle, each trying feverishly to give away handfuls of Players' Club t-shirts. The fans are lukewarm, but a group of Sychopaths rush the retaining barrier, literally knocking it over in a mad rush at the t-shirts. Security attempts to intervene, but their jackboots go unused as the Sychopaths simply slip on their new outer wear -- and in a huddle return to their seats. Sparkplug then retakes the mic...] SL: Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is set for one fall. Introducing first, being accompanied down the aisle by Medusa Rage; he hails from Brooklyn, New York and weighs 238 pounds... Dirt Dog Unique Allah! [Medusa leads the bedraggled Dirt Dog to ringside, while "Snakes" oozes from the PA. He is taking his familiar swig and as he sees the camera begins to sing... "I'm just a sexy boy... I'm not your muhfuh'n boy toy!"] TD: Dirt Dog is in rare form tonight. SR: Much like Pacino in "Cruisin'", a gritty, somewhat disturbing look at the emerging homo-erotic Manhattan club scene in the early 70s. TD: Of course. I understand we have a camera backstage with Mad Dog Watkins. [Cut to a split-screen. On the right, live footage of Dirt Dog continuing his antics on the way to the ring. On the left, the scene cuts to backstage, where the cameras catch up with Mad Dog Watkins. He is extremely intense and pouring his bottled water over his head to cool down from his pre-match workout.] MDW: What do you want? I guess you want me to rag on Creed and then make some lame joke about how the bigger and badder Dog is gonna win tonight, don't you? Well, forget it. Dirt Dog, I lost last Saturday, and I've been in one hell of a mood since. If you think I'm gonna walk out of that ring tonight with another loss, then guess again. Now get that camera out of my face. I've got me some hobo ass to whip. [Watkins heads through the entrance curtain. Cut back to a shot of the aisle.] SL: His opponent, coming down the aisle, weighs 269 lbs.... from "The Motor City", Detroit, Michigan... here is Mad Dog Watkins! [Big heel pop as Watkins confidently makes his way down the aisle, ignoring the outstretched hands of the fans. "Paint It Black" kicks in as the big man stops at the base of the ring, nodding his head in satisfaction at the level of crowd response to his entrance.] TD: Mad Dog Watkins looks ready to go tonight, Dross. That loss to Brody Thunder was a bitter pill to swallow for this veteran -- and he knows he needs to tune up his game with his "falls count anywhere" match with Creed only three weeks away. SR: Both of 'em a couple of nobodies if you ask me, Dross. Now a star, a big star... TD: I know, Al Pacino. SR: Well, I was going to say the "Outlaw", but now that you mention it, Al Pacino is pretty darn famous. Go check out his latest, "Donnie Brosco", playing at a theater near you, everybody. TD: Are you being paid for this, Steve? SR: Just trying to educate the great unwashed and inject a little culture into the proceedings. TD: Yeah, right. [Medusa pauses as she moves to exit the ring, rubbing her left hand over the chest of Watkins and whispering something in his ear. Mad Dog appears to take no note... but Unique certainly does, immediately bursting into tears and waving his arms to indicate he can't go on!] TD: I think Unique's feelings are a little hurt here, Steve Roberts. SR: Your feelings would be hurt to if you looked like Dirt Dog. Can you imagine the constant taunting, the bullying, the name-calling... well, I guess you probably could, Dross. [Watkins is eventually able to cajole Unique into a brief lockup that DDUA turns to a standing side headlock. Watkins slips behind with a waistlock takedown and then a wristlock into a reverse chinlock.] TD: Watkins quickly establishing his size and power advantage over Unique, taking him off his feet and now working the head and neck. [Dirt Dog is able to rise to his feet, into an Irish whip by Watkins. Unique comes off the ropes with a cross-body... and is caught in mid-air by Watkins who brings him down with a hard backbreaker and a quick cover... 1 - kickout. Dirt Dog is quickly up, but Watkins executes a wristlock takeover and then a fireman's carry into an armbar. Watkins powers Allah to his feet, whips him again to the ropes, again Unique comes off with a crossbody... and again Watkins catches him! Pop! Watkins brings Unique down hard with a second... and then a third... and then a fourth big backbreaker before covering again... 1 - 2 - kickout!] TD: We're seeing not just Watkins' obvious power, but his technical skill as well. This is a man who knows his way around the ring, Steve Roberts. SR: Yeah, and what he knows is he doesn't want to stay in the ring with this walking microbrew, Dross. Two quick pin attempts -- Watkins wants to go home early. Maybe to catch "Godfather II" on Cinemax. [Watkins picks up Unique into a scoopslam, but eschews the cover and scoops him up again... this time whipping him farside... Watkins avoids a drop toe hold and catches Unique into a facelock for a DDT attempt... but Unique counters with a high backdrop that sends Mad Dog over the top rope and to the outside! Pop!] TD: Unique looks as startled as anyone, Steve Roberts. Watkins has dominated this encounter from the bell and suddenly finds himself out on the floor. SR: He shouldn't have gone for a DDT, Dross. He's looking to end this thing too early, much like the surprising short denouement in Pacino's "And Justice For All". [Dirt Dog shrugs his shoulders at his good fortune, then leaps to the outside, immediately going to work on Mad Dog's left leg which seemed to take the brunt of his fall. Unique lands several hard boots to Watkins knee, then whips him down with a hard leg lariat. Pop! Unique goes to the apron, heading off the official's count... and it's Medusa who drops down with an elbow to the throat of the prone Watkins! Pop! As Unique turns back to face them, Rage is up again, blowing a kiss in the direction of the throat-clutching Mad Dog. Unique is seemingly very upset, turning his back to Watkins and pleading with Medusa not to leave him. Watkins struggles to his feet and advances... and is knocked back to the floor with a quick reverse crescent kick from a revolving Allah! Pop!] TD: I think they set him up, Steve Roberts. We have seen this man's act enough to know that all is not what it appears to be with that Dirt Dog. I'm beginning to believe that he's smarter than anyone gives him credit for. SR: You know who was smart... that Michael Corleone. "I know it was you, Fredo." You can't beat stuff like that, Dross. Hey, while I have a minute... TD: You don't have a minute, Steve. There's a match going on. SR: Okay, fine. [adopts a phony "play-by-play" voice] OH MY! Unique is really going to town on that big Dog's hind leg, Tim Dross. Oooh, that last shot will leave a mark for sure! What action. Buy our pay-per-view! It's the battle of the icons. This time it's personal. Yadda yadda yadda. [Unique dumps Watkins back in and resumes his work on the injured leg. Dropping two measured elbows, then three knees, moving in for an extended grapevine... and then finally a half crab that has Watkins in excruciating pain as he desperately grabs the ropes... breaking the hold.] TD: See, that's what Dirt Dog Unique Allah has done so many times, he moves from seemingly a blind drunkenness to a technical viciousness, although, he always seems completely shocked, like right now... look at him with his arms maniacally waving about... I can't get a fix on him at all. SR: Fix. Dirt Dog. Damn, I sure hope so, Dross. [Both men are on their feet and Unique tries an Irish whip -- reverse -- but is able to gather his momentum to leap to the ropes and catch Watkins with a remarkable reverse flying bodypress... but he does not cover... Unique instead moving to the top rope and coming down with a missle drop kick... to nothing. Watkins moves away. Pop! Watkins is up and quickly charges, hitting a lariat that drops Unique and then picking him up for a salto suplex... that lands Allah flat but the Dirt Dog is able to roll with the momentum into a flash cover... 1 - kickout! It is Unique who hops to his feet, seemingly out of the terror from the Watkins suplex. But dispite his frenetic disposition, he is able to once again find Watkins' left leg, stomping it hard repeatedly before returning to his submission leglock.] TD: Dirt Dog has been persistent throughout the match, whether through the air or the mat... he has kept a sharp focus on the injured Watkins' left leg. SR: Come on, Dross. He's obviously making it up as he goes along, similar to Pacino's documentary "Looking For Richard". Even without a script, every minute is riveting. And, come on Dross, you know, you know who was in "Looking for Richard". TD: I'm guessing it wasn't Gary Cooper. SR: Winona! Ever see "Welcome Home Roxy Carmichael"? [Watkins is able to power out from the hold, but is snapmared down from an increasingly aggressive Allah, Unique applies a quick lateral press... 1 - but Watkins bridges up and over for a ... 1 - No... both men now snap to their feet. It is Watkins with an Irish whip, into a shoulderblock which sends Unique down. Mad Dog goes back to the ropes, Unique stops him mid-ring with a hiplock -- blocked -- and Watkins sends him to the mat with a tilt-a-whirl suplex that rattles the rafters. Watkins is feeling it now, dropping a big fist to the face and then scooping Unique up for a... tiger driver that sends him hard into the mat! Big pop and a cover... 1 - 2 - kickout! Watkins with a quick series of right hands - then he leaves Unique in the middle of the ring... and starts climbing the ropes!] TD: Watkins is going up, he is going up to the top rope! Mad Dog Watkins is going to the air! SR: He's getting desperate, Dross. Dirt Dog's resilience has taken him out of his game... he's waiting too long to jump... [Watkins sets -- and leaps from the top rope... and hits Unique with a big flying elbow! Pop! Watkins covers for a... 1 - 2 - Unique rolls him up! Unique rolls him up! 1 - 2 - ] TD: Two...NO! Watkins is just able to get a shoulder up. Unbelievable. [Watkins is clearly upset now, not at all certain how he could have come so close to seeing this match slip away after landing the high risk elbow. He is up an wailing away at Unique with fast lefts and rights... when his eye is again drawn to Medusa, now standing on the apron and flashing more than a little leg in his direction. Mad Dog angrily approaches, telling her to get her "ass off the apron" unless she wants to become "part of the game". ] TD: Unique's charging from behind... [...and Watkins catches him with a hard elbowsmash! Pop! Watkins whips cross-corner and charges... and is caught with a high knee by Unique! Pop! Allah wastes no time, leaping to the top rope and then launching himself at Watkins...] TD: He caught him! Watkins caught him again! SR: And he's gonna finish him, Dross! [Watkins quickly maneuvers Dirt Dog into position for a powerbomb... but Unique counters by grabbing Watkins head, and spinning him with a hard hurricarana... sending Watkins not to the mat... but to the top rope over which his neck is snapped for a hot shot! Big Pop!] TD: That is remarkable! Dirt Dog somehow countered the powerbomb with a hurricarana into a hotshot... and now he's bouncing off the back ropes... he's going for the Fatal Flying Guillotine... he leaps... SR: He's gone! Something just pulled Dirt Dog clean over the top rope and onto the floor! TD: Dirt Dog leapt in the air to finish Watkins and some... I think it was a man... I think someone just grabbed Allah clean out of the air and pulled him over the top rope!! [Watkins crawls to the official, preventing him from peering over the side where a man in a "Desirable" Danny Dynamite t-shirt has Unique in a facelock... and DDTs him to the floor! Huge Pop!] SR: It's Petrow! It's that crazy Joe Petrow! He's laid Unique out! TD: He must have come out during that pre-match disturbance with the IIWF crew, Steve Roberts! He's been sitting with the Sychopaths this entire match! [Petrow dumps Unique back in the ring, then points to his t-shirt and puts his own hand on the back of his head and yells, "Who wants to see one more Sychobuster DDT!" "We do!" Is the response from his minions, then Petrow drops himself to the floor, in a self-inflicted DDT! "One!," yell the Sychopaths, "One!" In the ring, Watkins has recovered and is finishing a series of boots to Unique's head, as the Dirt Dog has yet to move following the Petrow DDT. Watkins scoops Unique up, places him over his shoulder and goes to the corner. Mad Dog carrying him to the second buckle, setting him up for the Samoan Drop... and launches...] TD: Every dog has his day! SR: This Dog's day is over! [Watkins lands the midrope Samoan drop and covers... 1 - 2 - 3! Ding! Ding! Ding!] SL: Your winner, as a result of a pinfall... Mad Dog Watkins!! [Heel pop as Watkins accepts the upraised arm while Medusa leads Unique up the aisle.] TD: Well, an impressive, but tainted victory for Mad Dog Watkins as he defeats Dirt Dog Unique Allah with the assistance of one Joe Petrow. SR: Petrow owed him one from earlier tonight, Dross. He and 3M were robbed out of that US belt by Dirt Dog. Payback's a muh-fuh, Unique! [As Watkins prepares to leave the ring, the arena lights suddenly drop and a red spotlight is seen at the top of the aisle.] TD: That's Creed's spotlight, Steve Roberts! Creed's gonna come out here, we are gonna see it right now! [The expectant pop is muted as a slight man dressed in standard delivery person garb scurries into the ring and hands a small package to Watkins. The delivery man offers an electronic pad for Mad Dog's signature -- but has it swatted away by the irritated Watkins. The delivery man tips his cap... and then quickly exits.] SR: No tip for that guy. What's going on here, Dross? First Creed wouldn't hit Watkins with the ring bell... and now he's sending him presents? What, are they going steady or something? TD: Maybe something a little different than that, he's opening the package... [As Watkins rips open the package, the red spolight shifts to the ring. Watkins looks at the contents and then holds them up to the crowd. It is a black t-shirt, with blood-red lettering. On the back of the shirt it reads: CREED vs. WATKINS RING WARS III - MARCH 22 Then, Watkins turns the shirt to display the red lettering on the front... ANYONE.... ANYWHERE.... ANYTIME. The spotlight drops out, leaving the arena black to the popping of the crowd. Then -- the softly resonant voice of Creed is then heard over the P.A.:] Creed: Three weeks, Old Dog. Three weeks. [The lights go back up to the huge popping from the crowd. Watkins slowly shakes his head, places the shirt over his shoulder and leaves the ring.] TD: Well, it's all gonna go down in only three weeks. We are going to see that unbelievable "Falls Count Anywhere" match between Mad Dog Watkins and Creed as just a part of the huge card topped by that big double main event, Dan Kauffman, in his last ever match, against his long time friend and now rival, Chris Quigley. And then the IIWF title will be on the line when IIWF champ Casey James takes on his former friend -- and now bitter enemy -- former IIWF champ Subway Psycho, who incidentally we will see later on tonight in a titanic hook up against the man from whom we just heard -- the powerful rookie, Creed. In fact, in just a few moments, we're going to see the Subway Psycho and Casey James face to face in this very ring as they give a special interview. SR: Does that mean you'll shut up for a while, Dross? TD: Er... I suppose so. SR: Then get in that damned ring. You're giving me a headache with your mindless claptrap. [Tim Dross leaves the broadcast table, takes the microphone from the ring announcer, and climbs into the ring. The crowd cheers in anticipation.] TD: Ladies and gentlemen, coming March 22 at Ring Wars III the IIWF World Heavyweight title will be on the line. I am pleased, and to be honest, a little nervous to be out here and conducting a special face-to-face in-ring interview between the two combatants. [Pop] So without further delay here they are! First the challenger, the Subway Psycho! [The lights dim and "Crazy Train" blares over the PA. A single spotlight originating from behind the runway area cuts the form of the Subway Psycho in silhouette. The crowd pops loudly. As he walks down the aisle both hands are extended towards the fans, slapping fives as he goes. He climbs into the ring, circling once before stopping next to Dross. He glares back at the runway entrance and extends one arm, waving to call Casey out.] TD: And now your IIWF World Heavyweight Champion... accompanied to the ring by his manager, Brian Lau, here is Casey "Blackheart" James! ["Foul Taste of Freedom" pumps into the arena as Casey emerges, wearing the IIWF World Championship belt and an official Casey James T-shirt that reads, "If you ain't me, you ain't *CENSORED*". There is a mix of cheers and boos, which Casey seems to enjoy equally. He pauses just in front of the runway entrance to flex and pose. A burst of fireworks from behind accents one of his poses. Brian Lau motions for Casey to follow him to the ring as the manager begins some inaudible yelling at the Psycho. A group of fans with "Blackheart" foam hands give an enthusiastic applause, butting heads with each other and smacking other fans around. Upon climbing into the ring Casey's cocky attitude shifts to one of dead seriousness. He walks straight to the center of the ring and stands toe to toe with the slightly shorter Subway Psycho. Tim Dross, who got out of the way, anticipating something to happen, manages to squeeze himself inbetween the two men and holds up the microphone for whichever man wants to speak first. Casey motions to the Subway Psycho, and Tim Dross moves the mic to the People's Champion. Psycho begins to speak, but is interrupted.] CJ: Nah, Nah... You see, I'm the champ, so _I_ speak first. You just sit there and stew for a while while _I_ talk. [The crowd gives a big heel pop, except for the group of fans with the Blackheart foam hands, who go crazy.] CJ: Yeah, that's right. Now you listen to me, you little sewer rat. You've been a thorn in the Syndicate's side for quite a while now. You and Tiger Claw used to be at each other's throats. Now Claw wussed out, and I'm left to carry the banner. I'm going to do the one thing Claw was never able to do, and that's kick your sorry ass right out of the SkyZit in Toronto. I've been looking forward to doing nothing else. When I get my hands on you, I'm going to make you scream out for your mommy and lick the dirt off my boots... Kind of like what Sasha likes to do... [BIG heel pop] I am _so_ ready to beat you in the middle of the ring that I can taste it. So what makes you, a guy who lives in a sewer, think that you can take my pride and joy, _my_ belt, away from me? Huh? What makes you think you can beat me? [Subway Psycho looks to the fans, who pop loudly. Casey grabs the mic again.] CJ: Hey! Don't look at these idiots, answer my damn question! What makes you... [Psycho grabs the mic, interrupting the champ.] SP: I'll tell you why I know I'll beat you! Because I made you! [Casey looks confused and looks towards Brian Lau, who just shrugs.] SP: That's right... I made you, "Blackheart." I was reading your bio in the IIWF files and in it you blame me for your loss of faith in the fans and in the American way. I've never been a rah, rah, patriotic guy, but you... you were the big bad American Hero Casey James. Then Midsummer Madness rolls around and you asked me to sign a petition with you against the Syndicate... which I refused. I had a feeling about you then... and I was right. You are nothing but a low life, opportunist, fraud... and certainly not worthy of that gold about your waist. So you want to use me as an excuse for your selling out... fine. I'm the reason you have a "blackheart"... If I made you the way you are, then I can certainly take you down! I'm your creator and your executioner! [Psycho begins to walk around the ring, talking more to the crowd than Casey now.] SP: On March 22 in Toronto, I will beat you just like so many of the other members of the Syndicate. [Crowd pops and then the Psycho gets beck up in Casey's face and points to the belt.] SP: And then I'll have back what's mine. [The crowd gives a large pop, and Casey is noticably angry.] CJ: This belt was never yours, freak! You might have held it, but it wasn't yours! You weren't fit for this honour, so it got taken from you. You weren't even man enough to lose it in a fight! Sasha and Brian made you a mockery. It was proven back then that Sasha owns you, and now I own Sasha. She may be with you now, but she'll always remember me as the real man she can always come back to. Oh, you might think you made me, but the truth of the matter is that you were just a symbol of everything I dispised. Fine. You might have made me, but I _own_ you, and what I own, I can destroy, and you're gearing up for the most brutal embarrasment of your life. I want no DQ, so I can do whatever I want to your stinking carcass! [The Blackheart fans at ringside go feral. The Subway Psycho allows a smirk to cross his face.] SP: You know Casey, I find it interesting that you keep bringing Sasha up. You talk about your supposed encounters with Sasha and how you showed her a real man. It's all really weak... it reminds me of boys telling exaggerated stories in the locker room in Junior High. Sasha seems to recall her days in the Syndicate differently, and Tiger Claw will back her up on this, because it seems that you paid little or no attention to her at all. In fact, it seems the real reason that you attacked Joe Latta was because _he_ wasn't returning _your_ phone calls, he wasn't returning all the attention you were giving him... [With that Casey punches Psycho with a closed fist, sending him down. Psycho pops right back up and lunges at Casey, sending both of them to the mat. Tim Dross gets knocked over in the chaos while Brian Lau attempts a few kicks to the Psycho's back. The crowd is going absolutely insane. Psycho continues to throw punches at Casey, until Casey manages to use his power to throw the Psycho off of him. The Jobber Justice Squad rushes into the ring and grab a hold of each of the two men. Subway Psycho relaxes and a wide grin can be seen on his face through his long hair. Casey is still enraged and it takes nearly the whole Justice Squad to keep him at bay. Brian Lau, after yelling a few audible curses in the Psycho's direction tries to convince Casey to cool off. Casey won't take his eyes off the Psycho as the subway dweller rolls out of the ring and finds Tim Dross and takes his microphone.] PS: What? Did I hit a nerve? See you in Toronto. [Subway Psycho tosses the microphone into the ring and it lands with a thud. He continues up the aisle still with a smirk on his face. At the top of the runway he turns back as if to enjoy the chaos he caused before exiting. Casey grabs the mic:] CJ: You little shit, I'll kill you, I swear I'll kill you! Nobody talks to the champ like that! Nobody! I'm going to send you and your little whore up the river! [Casey starts indiscriminately labelling members of the Jobber Justice Squad with punches, starting with Ned Norton. Brian tries to calm down the red-faced champ, but to no avail. Finally, Lau just throws his hands in the air and lets Casey get it out of his system. Casey knocks most of the men down to the mat, while the others leave the ring and head up the aisle. Casey runs up the aisle as well, and Brian Lau shrugs, walks over to Tim Dross, smiles, and says, "It's been a pleasure..." Lau then follows James to the locker room area. Dross returns to the broadcast table.] SR: Congratulations on yet again showing us all just how to keep an interview under control, Dross. TD: Those two men want each other in the ring in the worst way, Steve Roberts. I'm not sure they're going to wait until Ring Wars III. The officials had better keep them well apart backstage. Well, our next match is going to feature one of the supreme aerialists in the IIWF... SR: "The Outlaw" J.W. Hardin! TD: Against... Steve Roberts, the Outlaw is once again back in Europe and after the double cross he, Brody Thunder and the Syndicate pulled on the Players' Club last week, I don't imagine he'll be rerturning too soon. SR: Oh, yeah. Europe. TD: Anyway, I'm referring to Shinja Chow -- and he'll be taking on a very promising newcomer... SR: "The Outlaw" J.W. Hardin! TD: [sigh] Let's get to ringside. =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= White Phoenix vs. Requiem =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= WRITER: JJ [Sparkplug Lee enters the ring.] RA: Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is scheduled for one fall. Introducing first, hailing from parts unknown, weighing in at 306lbs, here is... Requiem! [The arena lights dim and the slow, mournful melodies of the "Music of the Unknowingly Damned" drifts out over the PA as a single spotlight follows the huge, sinister Requiem down the aisle. He seems completely absorbed in playing his music on his black guitar, and the fans remain almost silent, as if in awe of the big newcomer. Eventually, Requiem seems to awaken from his trance, puts his guitar in the corner of the ring, and the lights rise once more. Pop! Suddenly, however, the lights flicker again, and the voice of Deathbringer echoes across the arena a second time:] DB: Continue to play your music, Requiem... I like it... But you will certainly not like what I will do to you when Ring Wars III has arrived... The dead man will rise and my symphony of death shall lead you to the dark side... Two men down, one to go... [The lights rise again. Sparkplug Lee looks visibly spooked, but Requiem simply raises his arms in the air and signals for Deathbringer to bring it on. The crowd settles once more, and Sparkplug continues:] RA: And introducing his opponent, accompanied to the ring by Sun Tsi, hailing from Beijing, China, weighing in at 220lbs, here is... the White Phoenix! [Big mixed pop as the form of a phoenix, drawn in pyrotechnics above the head of the aisle, explodes into view. The Phoenix steps out into the ring, carrying a large wooden ladder. Sun Tsi follows behind.] TD: There's that ladder again. The Phoenix wants to send a message to the "Enigma", that's for sure. [The Phoenix sets the ladder down at ringside, and then climbs to the top before somersaulting from the top into the ring. Cameras flash around the Coliseum. Big pop!] TD: What an entrance by the White Phoenix! We're ready to get underway here! [Sun Tsi has now taken the ladder out to the aisle and the two wrestlers are alone in the ring. They lockup -- and Requiem easily shoves the Phoenix to the mat. Chow hops quickly to his feet and the two men lock up again. Requiem moves to a standing side headlock that he attempts to convert to a hammerlock...but is thwarted by a head scissors by Chow that leads to a takedown with a spinning drop toe hold! Pop!] TD: That's how the Phoenix can neutralize the obvious size disparity; he is remarkably agile. [Chow bars the arm and then drops three crisp legs over the Requiem's shoulder, trying to take away the big man's power. Chow moves for a knucklock... but is again shoved to the mat by Requiem. Both men are up now and Requiem charges... but takes a knee lift for his trouble. Requiem's head snaps back, but his body continues forward and he is able to gather up Chow and whip him hard cross-corner. Chow takes the mid-buckle in full stride... but does so with his foot... lifting himself over the top rope and out to the apron. Requiem has charged - but finds, instead of Chow's neck awaiting his elbowsmash - his own head being snapped by a hurricarana from the leaping Phoenix who has gone to the top and then to the head of the giant Requiem! Pop!] TD: That hurricarana took the seven-footer clean out of the ring, Steve Roberts! The White Phoenix is remarkable! [Requiem is out on the floor, just getting back to his feet as he is hit again... this time with a reverse flying top rope cross-body from Chow, who gets an enormous pop as he now hops to the announce table...] SR: Get the... get the hell of my notes! Dammit Chow, I'll snatch you baldheaded -- no offense, Dross. TD: The White Phoenix has climbed to our table and is about to come down... [Pop! Chow hits the again standing Requiem with a flying spinning heel kick - and follows up with three successive double palms to the face and a dropkick...] TD: He caught him! Requiem is still on his feet and just caught Chow in mid-air! [Requiem pauses only a moment... then executes a backbreaker over the retaining barrier that startles the capacity crowd. Chow attempts to rise, still perched on the barrier as he gets to his feet... and is then driven hard into the crowd by a flying shoulderblock from Requiem! Big Pop!] TD: Did you see that, Steve Roberts?! Requiem just hurled his three hundred plus pounds over that retaining barrier and drove Shinja Chow into the floor seats! SR: Grandma's gonna need another hip replacement, Dross. [Requiem tosses Chow back over the railing and moves to step over himself - but is hit with a Chow superkick that sends him down and straddling the railing! Pop! The Phoenix snaps two roundkicks that take Requiem off the railing and back to the floor... where he then stumbles into the ring, closely behind the now waiting Chow. The Phoenix quickly greets him with reverse knife edges and then an Irish whip - reverse - Requiem misses a clothesline and the Phoenix comes off the backropes with a crossbody... but is thumped down instead with a big Requiem boot! Pop!] TD: Oooh, there you see what a big man can do, Steve. That Requiem can turn this thing around with little more than a finger snap. SR: I turned the thing around with little more than a finger snap once. TD: Oh? SR: Best weekend of my life. [Requiem picks up the Phoenix and executes two sharp backbreakers, further damaging the all-important lower back of the high-flying Chow. Requiem goes to the mat himself, putting on a chinlock while driving the knee to the small of Chow's back - then moving to a complete Boston Crab that looks as if it might break the smaller Phoenix clean it two. Chow madly grabs for Requiem's hair... but is unable to reach it as the crab is cinched tighter. The official asks the now obviously strained Chow for a submission but none is coming... instead a sharp bark from Sun Tsi at ringside is heard... somehow giving Chow the ability to break free enough to snag the bottom rope.] TD: Now, that was a little frightening, Steve Roberts, even over this crowd noise - we heard that... whatever it was from Sun Tsi clear as a bell and it, well, it seemed to give the Phoenix the ability to get to the ropes. SR: Naw, Dross. That oaf just doesn't know how to apply a proper Boston crab, now if he had gone to my submission hold academy... [Requiem gives the official a clean break... and is then hit with a thrusting double palm to the groin. Sympathetic Pop!] SR: Sure hope old Wayne can play that theme music of his in a higher key, Dross. [Requiem staggers back and Chow bounces off the backropes - striking the big man with a handspring elbowsmash! Pop! Chow moves quickly, with four reverse knife edge chops and an Irish whip - reverse - but the Phoenix then takes Requiem off his feet with a big axe kick! Pop! Requiem staggers up and is driven to the corner with a dropkick... Chow charges with a spinning back kick... that hits the official as Requiem slips it!] TD: Referee down! Referee down! [Requiem stoops to check the official - and is waxed by a blow to the back of the head by the Phoenix! Big Pop!} TD: He hit him with a pair of nunchucks, Steve Roberts! Sun Tsi tossed the White Phoenix a pair of nunchucks - you saw it - everyone in this arena saw it - this is just wrong! SR: What I see... what I see is The Enigma on top of that ladder... Look out! [Huge pop as Takezo Musashi took advantage of the confusion to climb to the top of the ladder in the aisle - and has just wiped out Sun Tsi with a shooting star press! Chow sees his fallen manager and leaps out of the ring - and right into a spinning heel kick from Musashi! Pop! The Enigma then takes the nunchucks from the fallen Chow's hand... and clobbers him over the head! Shocked Pop! The Enigma dumps Chow back in the ring... and lays Requiem's arm across his body! Musashi then walks back up the aisle to a huge pop, taking the ladder with him as he holds up three fingers!] TD: The Enigma just laid out Shinja Chow with his own nunchucks, Steve Roberts! He's stolen his ladder and he has left the building! SR: And the ref's getting to his feet, Dross, he's getting to his feet and Chow is covered... Oh no! [The official reaches the two still fallen wrestlers...and begins a count... 1 - 2 - 3! Ding! Ding! Ding!] TD: Oh my! SL: Your winner... as result of a pinfall... Requiem! [Big face pop as Requiem's arm is raised and he looks about the ring in confusion, totally perplexed. He puts his hands up as if to signify "how did this happen?", then sees Sun Tsi now struggling to his feet in the aisle... and then notices the missing ladder... and then Requiem mouths the word "Enigma" and slowly shakes his head.] SR: Well, that's a helluva upset, Dross. TD: I'm not sure... something... Requiem is speaking to the official, Requiem is...I think... SL: Due to the outside interference by "The Enigma" Takezo Musashi... Requiem has refused to accept his pinfall victory... and as a result... THIS MATCH WILL CONTINUE! SR: Oh, Oh, Oh, Oh, That is just so wrong! What does this guy think he's doing, Dross? TD: They call it sportsmanship, Steve Roberts. They call it fair play. This Requiem is clearly a man cut from a different cloth. SR: A moron cloth, Dross. This guy doesn't know how tough it is here in the IIWF to win even a single match, now he's letting Chow collect himself before he starts the match, this match has restarted and he's wasting valuable time. He'll never go anywhere in the IIWF, Dross. [Requiem now walks over to Chow, still out on the mat... but the Phoenix is now playing possum, reaching out for a quick chop to the throat. The Phoenix rises, as Requiem retreats, bouncing a round... then a reverse round... then another roundkick off the skull of Requiem that sends the big man hard to the canvas! Pop!] SR: See, that's a real competitor, that's a man who knows you have to do anything to win in the IIWF! [The Phoenix slowly makes his way to the top rope, the wear of the match demonstrated by his exaggerated gait. Requiem is laid out in the ring as Chow turns around... and leaps...] TD: MOONSAULT! SR: No! [Requiem abruptly halts the Phoenix's descent with a big boot to the head! Pop! Requiem moves for a cover... 1 - 2 - NO! Kickout by Chow. Requiem picks the Phoenix up for a pildriver... and is countered with a head scissor takeover and a double hook for a... 1 - 2 - NO! Requiem just gets a shoulder up. Both men rise and Requiem whips Chow farside, Chow ducks a clothesline and they pass again. Requiem ducks his head and Chow goes over for a sunset flip... but can't get the big man to fall... and Requiem hits him with a right hand that smashes the Phoenix into the canvas. Pop! Requiem scoops Chow up again, and again positions him for a...] TD: PILEDRIVER! [Chow is driven hard into the mat... and Requiem then scoops him up... and walks to the ropes...] TD: He's going up to the top rope, Steve Roberts. He's going for that top rope powerbomb... the Final Lament! SR: That finisher seems sort of familiar, Dross. [Requiem stands high above the ring and positions the Phoenix for the Lament... POP!] TD: He hits it! He hits the Final Lament! [The official moves into position as the crowd stands and Requiem covers... 1 - 2 - NO! Chow gets a shoulder up!] SR: Or maybe it doesn't look familiar, Dross. This "New" White Phoenix is something special, something very special. TD: That is unbelievable -- and even this unflappable Requiem looks surprised, even this Requiem seemingly cannot believe the Phoenix is still in this match. [Requiem picks up Chow again, again places him over his shoulder... and again climbs to the top rope!] TD: He's going again! _TWO_ Final Laments?! [With the IIWF Coliseum on its collective feet, Requiem sets up one more time for his top rope powerbomb... Ding! Ding! Ding!] SR: What the hell's going on, Dross? SL: Ladies and gentleman, the time limit has expired -- and the official has ruled this bout -- a draw! A draw! [The fans begin to boo, but then turn to exhortations towards Requiem, who still stands on the top rope, Chow still poised for the Final Lament.] SR: Come on stiff, DO IT! DO IT! [Requiem turns to the popping fans, who seem to largely be in favor of his powerbombing the Phoenix. Requiem stretches to his full seven feet... And climbs from the ropes, placing Chow on the mat and exiting the ring.] SR: I hate this guy, Dross! What is with these new guys, Creed last week and this week, this Requisition guy not only gives BACK a win, but then doesn't take the opportunity to powerbomb Chow. It's just wrong. I'm sorry, it is just wrong, that's just how I was raised. [Sun Tsi and the White Phoenix limp back to the locker room, neither happy with the resolution of the match.] TD: Well, I think these fans appreciated a little sportsmanship from the Requiem tonight. And I know they will appreciate what is becoming one of the most anticipated matches at Ring Wars III, that Ladder Match between the Enigma and the White Phoenix. If what we saw tonight is any indication, it is gonna be one helluva show. SR: Yeah, yeah... Don't forget to order, yadda yadda yadda. TD: Quite. Marty Warnett has found himself facing a number of defences of his title recently, and up next we have him facing yet another challenger: The Sandman. SR: Whatever. I'd rather see him in there against Kowalski. Why's he ducking him? Huh? Is he afraid? TD: I doubt that's the case, Steve, but the Sandman's certainly been pressing his title claims as of late. Let's go to Sparkplug for the introductions. =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= IIWF INTERCONTINENTAL CHAMPIONSHIP MATCH: =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Marty Warnett [c] vs. The Sandman ----------------------------------------- WRITER: MP [Sparkplug Lee is in the ring.] RA: This next contest is scheduled for one fall, with a thirty-minute time limit, and is for the IIWF Intercontinental Championship! [Big crowd pop!] Introducing first, the challenger... hailing from parts unknown and weighing in at 290lbs, here is the Sannndmaaaaaaaaaan! [Big heel pop as the lights almost completely dim out, and "Concerto of the Desperado" by The Roots sounds over the PA system. A spotlight shines down on the ringside entrance... to focus on the Sandman, entering the aisle wearing the bloodstained white mask.] TD: The Sandman looks really focused here tonight Steve. It looks as though that... that all out brawl with Kowalski last week has only increased his resolve. He certainly seems fond of the bloodied mask now.. SR: So? Maybe it's just a sign of his commitment. Watch out, party freak... [The Sandman steps between the ropes and into the ring, backing into his corner, looking towards the aisle entrance...] RA: And his opponent... [big crowd pop!] Hailing from Cardiff, Wales and weighing in at 245lbs, here is the current IIWF Intercontinental Champion.... Marty Waaaaaaarrrneeeeett! [Huge crowd pop as "Cold Gin" by Kiss starts up over the PA system, and the crowd goes wild as Marty Warnett appears at the head of the aisle with the Intercontinental Title strapped around his waist. He walks quickly toward the ring, slapping the fans hands on the way down.] TD: All right! The Party Maniac is in the house! SR: Oh give me a break, Dross, please... [Warnett climbs up onto the ring apron as the Sandman watches on impassively, and vaults into the ring before holding the Intercontinental Title in the air to a huge crowd pop. He folds it, and hands it to the referee...] TD: Look at the intensity on the Sandman's face. He is really focused for this match, Steve... SR: Hey, this is Warnett we're talking about here. I'd be focused if I were facing him. TD: Really? SR: Yeah. Focused on bleeding that puke to within an inch of his life... [Inside the ring, the referee gives the final instructions to the two wrestlers, who are now staring at each other intently, and signals for the match to begin... the two circle slowly, and the Sandman moves in for a lock up... Warnett ducks under, turns and nails the Sandman with a fast dropkick! Big pop! The Sandman staggers forward, and Warnett flips him to the canvas with a hiptoss! The Sandman springs to his feet again, and Warnett twists him into a side headlock, locking the hold in tight...] TD: Warnett showing his speed and taking control straight away... SR: The Sandman doesn't look too bothered to me, Dross. Warnett's going to need much more than a couple a' flashy moves if he's going to beat this guy... [The Sandman tries to waistlock Warnett, and then tries to shove his way out of the headlock, but Warnett refuses to budge. The Sandman fires a couple of forearm shots into Warnett's kidneys, then pushes him into the ropes and uses the momentum to try to throw Warnett off again, but Warnett pulls up short and twists the Sandman over his hip, sending him into the canvas with a headlock takedown! Big pop! Warnett roll with it, pushing himself into a bridged position, pinning the Sandman's shoulders to the canvas... - 1 - 2 - the Sandman's shoulder lifts up. Warnett drops back down to the canvas, twisting the Sandman's head, and the Sandman catches hold of Warnett's leg, rolling him over into a cradle... - 1 - 2 - Warnett kicks out, grits his teeth and twists the hold again. The Sandman quickly rolls over, pushing himself back up to a vertical base, waistlocks Warnett and hoists him up for a back suplex... Warnett twists again, sending the Sandman right back down to the canvas! Big pop!] TD: The Sandman seems unable to get any sort of momentum going here... Warnett is utilising that headlock almost to perfection! SR: Huh? Deja vu... [The Sandman battles to his feet again as a big heel pop goes up from the fans at ringside, and Steve 'The Fury' Kowalski saunters down to the ring... The Sandman pushes Warnett back into the ropes hard, and whips him cross ring... Warnett ducks the clothesline attempt, pulls up short and takes the Sandman back down to the canvas with another headlock as he turns... the Sandman kicks furiously... ] TD: The Sandman is becoming increasingly frustrated by Warnett's tactics here.. I just hope that Kowalski doesn't decide to get involved... SR: Why not ask him? Hey! Steve! Cm'ere! TD: Will you sit down... [Kowalski grins across at Roberts, then turns his attention back towards the match. The Sandman rolls Warnett into another cradle... - 1 - 2 - Warnett kicks out hard. The Sandman reaches up for Warnett's hair, and the referee warns him..] TD: Warnett is really giving the Sandman a hard time here in the opening stages. We know the Sandman is an excellent technical wrestler, but he just can't seem to mount any sort of offence here... [The Sandman rolls over to his knees, and then pushes up to his feet, backing Warnett into the ropes once more, and this time holding him there. The referee asks for the clean break, and Warnett holds his hands in the air, only to be met by a hard knee lift from the Sandman! Heel pop! The Sandman pulls Warnett out into centre ring by the hair, and quickly takes him to the canvas with a swinging neckbreaker...] TD: Ah. SR: You were saying, Dross? [The Sandman pulls Warnett back to his feet, and twists him back down to the canvas with a snap mare, before stepping over one shoulder, twisting Warnett's head sideways and slapping a big forearm shot down across Warnett's exposed neck! Big heel pop! The Sandman drops back to the canvas, twisting Warnett's head with a reverse chinlock and locking him in bodyscissors at the same time. The referee asks for the submission, none coming.] TD: All it takes is a single move, a single loss of concentration and the momentum of a match can change so quickly... SR: Yeah, yeah. Just face it, Dross, you were wrong. [Warnett struggles, but finds himself unable to escape the hold. He starts to twist himself over, and the Sandman brings another forearm shot crashing down across his neck. the Sandman rolls him over, switching the hold into a regular chinlock... Warnett struggles back to his feet, and the Sandman twist around, pulling Warnett's head back over his shoulder, and taking him down to the canvas hard with a reverse neckbreaker! Big heel pop! The Sandman covers... - 1 - 2 - kickout by Warnett! On the outside, Kowalski shakes his head and turns to leave...] SR: Hey! Hey Steve! Where'ya going? SK: I guess I jus' lost interest, I got smaller fish to fry. TD: _Smaller_ fish to fry?! What does that mean? [Kowalski heads back towards the dressing rooms, as the Sandman takes Warnett back down with another snapmare, this time putting a hard boot into the back of Warnett's head... The referee warns him, and the Sandman pushes him out of the way, dropping a legdrop across the back of Warnett's neck before rolling him over for another cover... - 1 - 2 - Warnett kicks out again. The Sandman pulls him up again, and receives a headbutt to the midsection from Warnett, who then pulls him into a small package... - 1 - 2 - the Sandman reverses the pin... - 1 - 2 - Warnett kicks out hard, and the Sandman goes straight back to work, dropping an elbow across Warnett's neck, then picking him up, whipping him hard into the ropes and catching him in a huge lariat the cover... 1 - 2 - kickout by Warnett again!] TD: And the Sandman's straight back on him with a chinlock. He is really focusing on Warnett's neck here, Steve. SR: Yeah. Snap it like a twig. [Warnett pushes himself back up to his feet, and slams an elbowsmash into the Sandman's midsection, then another... then another, and breaks the hold! Big pop! Warnett runs to the ropes, and comes back with a cross body block... - 1 - 2 - kickout by the Sandman! Warnett runs to the ropes again as the Sandman rolls to his feet, ducking under an attempted clothesline and then catching the Sandman in a sunset flip as he lowers his head... the Sandman staggers, then drops down on top of Warnett, pinning his shoulders to the canvas... - 1 - 2 - Warnett brings his feet up, hooking the Sandman's shoulders and dragging them to the canvas in a pinning position... - 1 - 2 - the Sandman kicks out, both men roll to their feet and go to the ropes, and the Sandman catches Warnett in a sleeperhold! Big heel pop!] TD: The match could have gone either way here in the last few seconds, and now the Sandman is taking the advantage again with a sleeperhold, and he has that hooked on tight! [Big heel pop from the crowd...] SR: [laughing] Look out Warnett, here comes a countryman... [Lord Byron walks down towards ringside, wearing an Italian suit and carrying his infamous brass-topped cane... In the ring, Warnett staggers in the hold, reaches back and grabs the Sandman's head, before dropping to the canvas, catching the Sandman with a jawbreaker...] TD: Good counter by Warnett! But it looks like he hurt himself with that one as well... SR: Heh. Looks like Warnett's finally proved he's not as thick headed as I always thought... [Lord Byron watches from the head of the aisle, his face the picture of contempt. The Sandman staggers to his feet, and walks over towards Warnett, who is clutching his head...] TD: Inside cradle from Warnett! One - two... kickout by the Sandman! SR: Warnett was playing possum? The cheating swine! [The Sandman springs back to his feet, and Warnett tries a hiptoss, but the Sandman catches him by the throat and swings back, sending Warnett down to the canvas in a legsweep faceslam! Big heel pop! The Sandman covers... - 1 - 2 - kickout by Warnett! The Sandman pulls Warnett back to his feet, waistlocks him and sends him to the canvas with a high back suplex, before making another cover, hooking the leg... - 1 - 2 - kickout again! The Sandman looks up angrily at the ref, but then rolls Warnett over...] TD: What's the Sandman going for here...? Oh no... SR: Ring the bell, ref, it is over... [The Sandman locks in a STF in the centre of the ring, and Warnett yells out in pain. The referee asks for the submission, and Warnett shakes his head as much as he is able. Lord Byron yawns as if bored.] TD: It looks as though there's no way out for Warnett here... the Sandman has that hold locked on tight! SR: I'm telling you, Dross, Warnett is done! [In the ring, Warnett tries to roll the hold onto the side, but the Sandman refuses to let him go anywhere. The referee check for the submission again as Warnett reaches out towards the ropes...] SR: Not a chance, Warnett, you're too far away. Give it up while you've still got a neck! [Warnett tries to reach back, but is unable to reach the Sandman, who pulls back on the hold hard! Big heel pop as Warnett yells out in pain! Lord Byron casually walks up to the ring apron as Warnett tries to drag himself towards the ropes...] TD: And look at the look of disdain Byron is giving Warnett! Warnett is practically being forced to look at Byron's face, and Byron is loving every second of it! [Warnett pushes drags himself, and the Sandman, inch by inch closer towards the ropes. Byron turns away from Warnett with a sneer, and walks across to the timekeeper's table....] TD: At last, Warnett is receiving some sort of mercy... SR: I don't think so, Dross, Byron's got the Intercontinental Title! Hah! [Byron snatches the title off the timekeeper and casually walks back across to Warnett with a sneer, before goading him with it! Heel pop! Warnett's face contorts in anger, and he fights his way across to the ropes, finally reaching them! The Sandman holds on for a few more seconds as Byron applauds sarcastically, and then the referee forces the Sandman to release the hold... the Sandman starts to pull Warnett back to his feet....] TD: Oh my! Warnett is a house on fire here, folks! [Warnett nails the Sandman with a fast series of punches to the midsection, then a kick, then a headbutt, then he comes off the ropes and nails him with a flying clothesline! Big pop! The Sandman springs back to his feet, and Warnett doubles him over with a swift kick to the midsection, before running to the ropes again, this time nailing the Sandman with a bulldog! Another big pop! Warnett stands up and looks quickly around...] TD: What's he doing? Pin him Marty! [Warnett sees Byron at the head of the aisle, still holding the Intercontinental Title, and vaults over the top rope, quickly running towards the sneering aristocrat! Big pop! Warnett and Byron start jawing as the referee starts counting him out... Byron starts to back off up the aisle and Warnett follows, passing a camera crew...] MW: I'm warning you Byron, you stay out of my business! LB: Like you stayed out of mine? Stay away from DeWinter, fool... MW: What's the matter, Byron? Can't handle that she's attracted to me more than you? [Big crowd pop!] LB: You? [Byron laughs] The only thing that she's attracted to you by is this! [Byron holds up the title to a big heel pop. In the ring, the Sandman throws the referee out of the way, breaking the count, and charges down the aisle after Warnett.. Warnett balls his fists and leaps at Byron, but is cut short by an axehandle from the Sandman! Big heel pop! Byron nails Warnett with the title, then drops it and heads back with a sneer, and the Sandman grabs Warnett by the hair and runs him back towards the ring, sending him headfirst into the ring apron before throwing him back inside..] TD: Wow! What a scene we just saw there! The Sandman just barely managed to beat the count back to the ring! SR: He wants this title bad, Dross, and he's gonna get it! Warnett is out cold! [The Sandman pulls Warnett up into position for a piledriver... and nails it! Big heel pop! Instead of making the cover, however, the Sandman pulls him up again, and hits him with another piledriver! Another heel pop! The Sandman pulls Warnett up again, backing him into the ropes, grinning at the crowd, before whipping him across the ring, and catching him in a clawhold on the rebound...] TD: This could be it... this could be the Nightmare coming up.... [The Sandman grins, and lifts Warnett up into the air... and Warnett swings both feet up and dropkicks the Sandman in the face! Big crowd pop as both men go down!] TD: Warnett countered the Nightmare! How did he manage to do that? [The Sandman staggers back up to his feet, as does Warnett... the Sandman goes for a doubles axehandle, and Warnett catches him with a shot to the stomach! Pop! Warnett kicks the Sandman in the stomach again, and takes him over with a gutwrench suplex! Warnett makes the cover... - 1 - 2 - kickout by the Sandman! Warnett pulls him up again, Irish whips him into the ropes and catches him with a belly-to-belly waistlock..] TD: Northern lights suplex, and Warnett's bridged well, this could do it... One! Two! Thr... SR: No! No! The Sandman kicked out! TD: Warnett pulls the Sandman up again... thumb to the eye by the Sandman! [The Sandman nails Warnett with a series of hard blows to the back of the neck, before whipping him into the ropes... Warnett reverses, and leaps up, catching the Sandman on the rebound with a Thesz press... The sandman swings his legs up, catching Warnett's arms and trying to pull him back, but Warnett leans forwards, powering the Sandman's legs down... the referee counts... - 1 - 2 - ] TD: Three! He got him! [Ding! Ding! Ding!] SR: No way! The Sandman kicked out! [The Sandman rolls to his knees angrily, yelling at the referee as Warnett staggers back into the ropes...] RA: Here is your winner by result of a pinfall... and _still_ IIWF Intercontinental Champion... Maaaaaarrty Waaaaaarrrneett!! [Huge crowd pop as "Cold Gin" by Kiss starts up over the p.a. system, and Warnett flips out of the ring, walking back up to retrieve the Intercontinental title from where it was left lying in the aisle... inside the ring, the Sandman pushes the referee back, holding up to fingers...] TD: It certainly was a close call, but it looks as though the referee is adamantly standing by his decision... personally, I'm sure that the Sandman kicked out after the three count... SR: Not a chance, Dross. The Sandman had Warnett beat all the way through that match. He kicked out. TD: Hang on, Steve -- I understand there's a fire back in the locker room area. Steve Summers is on the scene. [Cut backstage to a corridor deep in the IIWF Coliseum. The camera follows IIWF intern Steve Summers to the door of the White Phoenix's locker room. Around the door is seeping very foul smelling smoke.] SS: Guys, I'm here outside the locker room of the White Phoenix. [slight cough] The fire staff are on their way here because of this smoke... but I guess I ought to try and find out what's going on. [Summers kicks the door open, to reveal Sun Tsi branding Chow on the chest, the brand shaped like a flame. Chow is screaming "ENIGMA! THIS IS FOR YOU!" in a maddened, pained voice. Sun Tsi, startled, swings the red-hot brand at Summers, who dodges and ducks back out the door.] SS: I don't get paid enough to deal with this! [Summers throws his microphone down and stalks off down the hallway as a fire team arrives, regarding the locker room with confusion. Cut back to ringside.] SR: Boy, I guess the White Phoenix takes losing awfully hard, huh? TD: What a strange scene. I have no idea what that ritual is supposed to achieve. Anyway, we must move on. The match we've got coming up now has all the potential to be a classic. One of the IIWF's greatest ever superstars, the Subway Psycho, gearing up for a World Title shot at Ring Wars III, takes on the man some believe is the herald of a new age in the IIWF, Creed. SR: Yeah, sure. If Creed's such a "hot prospect", then why's he wasting his time with the Sewer Rat? TD: There's really no pleasing some people, is there? SR: What, me? Just give me some blood and I'll be fine. TD: [sighing] Let's go over to ringside... =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= Subway Psycho vs. Creed =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= WRITER: MP RA: This next contest is scheduled for one fall, with a thirty-minute time limit. Introducing first, weighing in at 276lbs and hailing from Oakland, California, accompanied to the ring by the "CEO" Jack York Montgomery, here is.... Creeeeeeed!! [The arena lights dim and Creed's voice plays out over the PA system...] PA: Anyone, anytime, anywhere... [Huge awed pop as Creed steps out into the aisle to the strains of Beethoven's "Ode to Joy". Creed strides quickly towards the ring, eyes focused, as the CEO walks in front of him, giving last minute advice and instructions...] TD: Creed's looking incredibly focused here tonight... this man is _intense_! [A fan in the crowd takes the awed silence as a chance to yell out "Who's your daddy?" at the top of his lungs, and the crowd catches on, yelling out "Mad Dog! Mad Dog!" The CEO looks around irritated, but not a flicker of emotion crosses Creed's face...] SR: I'm suddenly getting that deja vu feeling again... [Creed steps into the ring, raising his gloved left fist into the air, his face remaining completely impassive, before backing into his corner. The CEO walks along the ring apron, and Creed nods his head as the CEO shouts final words of encouragement at him.] RA: And his opponent... [big crowd pop] weighing in at 255lbs and hailing from the subways of New York city, accompanied to the ring by Tiger Claw, here is "The People's Champion"... The Subwaaaay Psyyyyyyychooooooo!! [Huge crowd pop as 'Crazy Train' by Ozzy Ozbourne starts up over the PA system, the lights dim and The Subway Psycho enters the aisle arms raised. He turns around, beckoning Tiger Claw forward, who is hobbling forward on his crutches, and turns to look around at the cheering fans, before running up the aisle, slapping the fans' hands as he goes...] TD: Well, Creed is definitely going to have to be focused on the Psycho here tonight. This may be his biggest test to date. SR: Nah... TD: The Psycho's a wily veteran of the IIWF and you can bet that he won't be fazed by Creed's intimidation tactics... SR: Nah... [The Psycho steps into the men, and Creed immediately launches into an attack on him, clubbing away at the Psycho with a series of punishing forearm shots as he steps between the ropes...] TD: And a big uppercut sends the Psycho staggering back! Kick to the midsection by Creed, Irish whip into the ropes, the Psycho drops his shoulder... uh oh... SR: Now that looks like a train wreck to me... TD: You are _not_ going to take Creed down with a shoulderblock. [The Psycho pushes himself up, as Creed invites him to try again. The Psycho does so, and Creed brings his foot up, doubling the Psycho over before hitting him with another uppercut that sends the Psycho staggering back again, and he falls on the ropes, tying his arms up...] TD: The Psycho's trapped! What's Creed going to do now? SR: Easy. Nail him, and hard. I would. [To the surprise of the crowd, Creed does exactly that, raining axehandle blows down on the trapped Psycho! Big mixed pop! The Psycho lashes out with a foot at Creed's midsection, Creed catches it, and lashes out with a clothesline that flips the Psycho out of the ring! The Psycho dangles from the ropes for a second, before falling to the floor outside...] TD: I think the ropes took most of that blow away, the Psycho landed on his feet... [The Psycho pulls himself back onto the ring apron, and Creed lashes out with another big punch... The Psycho ducks, ramming his shoulder into Creed's midsection, doubling him over, and then flipping over the top rope, catching Creed in a sunset flip! Big pop! Creed fights to keep his balance, then balls his left fist and sends it driving down at the Psycho's head...] TD: The Psycho moved out of the way at the last second! And he catches Creed in a reverse cradle..! [The referee dives into position and counts... - 1 - Creed's kickout almost sends the Psycho flying into the ref! Both men roll to their feet, and Creed launches himself forward, catching the Psycho with a huge diving clothesline! Big pop! Creed pulls the Psycho to his feet, and slips him into a bulldog headlock, twisting the hold in tight...] TD: Creed, maybe looking to try and slow the pace of the match down now. [The CEO slams his hand down on the ring apron, and yells instructions at Creed as the Psycho waistlocks him and tries to push him forwards and across the ring. It looks like he's trying to push a block of granite. Creed responds by twisting the hold even tighter, and the Psycho drops to one knee... big crowd pop!] TD: Creed certainly is an awesome physical specimen... He puts me in mind of a panther.. 275lbs of wickedly co-ordinated muscle... SR: [sarcastically] You what? TD: Sorry, was I talking out loud? [The Psycho pushes himself up to his feet again, and braces himself, pushing into Creed and swinging forearm blows into his lower back. Creed staggers forwards, and is pushed into the ropes. The referee calls for the clean break, and Creed responds by sticking his thumb in the Psycho's eye, and then switching into a facelock, using his weight to push the Psycho down to his knees on the canvas... heel pop!] TD: Despite the measured approach, Creed's showing an aggressive streak here as well! The referee had better monitor that facelock closely, and make sure there isn't a choke... [Creed twists the hold in tight, and the Psycho recovers slightly, pushing himself up to one knee. Creed responds by bringing his right hand crashing down across the Psycho's back, repeatedly smashing him back down to the canvas... The Subway Psycho slaps the mat in frustration, and yells out angrily when the referee asks for the submission... Creed twist the hold in again, and the Psycho pushes himself back up, responding to Creed's clubbing blow with a fist to the midsection! Big pop! Creed steps backwards slightly, and nails the Psycho with another forearm! The Psycho responds by slamming a series of punches into Creed's gut, and then lifting him up into the air, bringing him crashing down across his knee in an inverted atomic drop! Big pop! Creed staggers backwards, and the Psycho dives forwards, catching him with a hard running clothesline that knocks him off his feet! Another big pop! Creed flips to his feet as the Psycho comes off the ropes, and gets hit by a flying shoulderblock from the Psycho! The Psycho drops down into a pin, hooking the leg... - 1 - 2 - Creed throws him off! Creed rolls to his feet, and is immediately taken down by another running clothesline! Creed quickly responds by rolling out of the ring, and the crowd goes wild!] TD: Creed's bailed out, it looks as though he doesn't want any part of the Psycho here... SR: Hah! And look at the referee trying to hold the Psycho back! [Creed starts to walk around the ring, and is met by the CEO, who starts to give instructions again... Creed nods, and steps up onto the ring apron, to be met by a big fist from the Psycho! Big pop! The Psycho grabs him in a facelock, and sends him back into the ring with a vertical suplex! Another big pop! Creed rolls to his feet, and is sent straight back down by a bodyslam from the Psycho! The Psycho runs to the ropes...] TD: Oh come on ref, the CEO just caught the Psycho's leg! [The Psycho looks down at the CEO, and the distraction is enough for Creed to send him spinning over the top rope with a clothesline to the floor outside! Big mixed pop! Creed wastes no time, stepping through the ropes to the ring apron, before leaping off with an axehandle blow that sends the Psycho crashing into the guard-rail! Creed picks him up quickly, and rolls him back into the ring...] SR: You know, Dross, I'm starting to like Creed's attitude here tonight... [Creed picks the Psycho up, and sends him into the ropes with an Irish whip, before sending a hard kick into his stomach on the rebound, and quickly locking in an abdominal stretch, twisting the Psycho over his hip.] TD: Another submission hold from Creed. I don't think that he'll get a submission from the Psycho, but he's methodically wearing him down and we've already seen the Psycho's frustration show through... [Creed twists the Psycho in the hold, and with the free hand sends a clubbing blow crashing down across the Psycho's ribcage. In the crowd, the Mad Dog fan, deciding it's got too quiet, once again screams out 'Whose your daddy?' the crowd responds loudly with the Mad Dog chants. Creed remains unmoved. The Psycho however, reacts as though it was his name called, and starts fighting the hold, trying to reverse it. Creed raises his arm to slam another punch into the Psycho's ribs, and the Psycho manages to twist around, reversing it into an abdominal stretch of his own! Big crowd pop...] TD: But Creed cuts the Psycho off short with a hiptoss! And an axehandle to the neck! Here's a cover... [The referee counts as Creed hooks the leg... - 1 - 2 - kickout by the Psycho. Creed pulls the Psycho up again, backing him into the corner, before whipping him into the opposite turnbuckles with tremendous velocity! The Psycho staggers back out, and Creed catches him, lifting him up in the air and whipping him around 180 degrees into a spinebuster! Big heel pop!] TD: Wow! What a move! Did you see the power he got behind that, Steve? He almost drove the Psycho through the canvas! [Instead of making the pin, Creed springs up and to the second turnbuckle, before leaping off and placing a hue elbowdrop down across the Psycho's throat... He covers and hooks the leg... - 1 - 2 - The Psycho gets his foot on the ropes!] SR: Come on ref, that was three! TD: The Psycho had his foot on the ropes, Steve... SR: Where? I didn't see it... [Creed rolls to his knees, adjusting the blood-red glove, before hoisting the Subway Psycho up to his feet... and getting stunned by a quick blow to the midsection! Crowd pop! Creed sends an axehandle into the Psycho's back, and the Psycho sends a shot straight back! Creed hits him with another axehandle, and then pulls the Psycho up by the hair, whipping him cross-ring! Creed drops his shoulders...] TD: Kick by the Psycho sends Creed staggering back! And a kick to the head! And another kick doubles Creed over! Faceslam by the Psycho! And Creed rolls to the outside again! SR: Since when did the Sewer Rat start kicking people in the head? TD: Since he started training with Tiger Claw, maybe... [The Psycho quickly climbs to the top turnbuckle as Creed staggers on the outside, and comes off with a flying axehandle down onto the back of Creed's head, sending him crashing into the retaining barriers! Huge crowd pop! The Psycho pulls Creed up to his feet, and sends him crashing headfirst into the ringsteps! Another huge pop!] TD: Uh oh, The Psycho's on fire here now! [The Psycho rolls Creed back into the ring, and leaps to the ring apron, and then to the top rope! Creed staggers up to his feet, and turns around to be met by another axehandle blow from the Psycho! Big pop! The Psycho covers... - 1 - 2 - kickout by Creed! The Psycho pulls Creed up, slips him into a waistlock and sends him crashing back into the canvas with a belly-to-back suplex... another cover, hooking the leg... - 1 - 2 - kickout by Creed! The Psycho pulls Creed to his feet again, backing him into the ropes before sending him across the ring with an Irish whip... The Psycho runs forward for a clothesline...] TD: Creed with a cruci... no! Creed locks the Psycho into a full nelson! SR: And look at him drop all his weight across the Sewer Rat's shoulders! Just like I used to do 'em! TD: Yeah, right. Creed does have that locked on very well though, he's practically powering the Psycho down to his knees... [The referee asks the Subway Psycho for the submission, and the Psycho shakes his head as much as he's able. Creed focuses all his strength down on the Psycho's neck, the muscles in his arms bulging... The Psycho's face contorts in pain...] TD: That hold must really be sapping the Psycho's strength out of him... I can't believe he can hold on much longer, Creed is putting tremendous force behind it... SR: He may not have to give in, Dross, it looks like he's fading to me... [The referee does indeed seem concerned about the Psycho, who is showing little sign of fight... the referee raises the Psycho's arm, and it stays in place, although weakly. Spurred on, Creed exerts more pressure.] TD: The Psycho's been in that hold upwards of three minutes now, and he looks as though he's having difficulty breathing... but he simply will not give in here! SR: Okay, show's over. Anyone for suffocated rat? Thought not... [The referee raises the Psycho's arm again, and this time it falls! A worried murmur passes through the crowd, and chants of "PSY-CHO! PSY-CHO!" start to echo throughout the arena. The referee raises the Subway Psycho's arm again.... and it falls again! The chants increase in volume, and Tiger Claw tries his hardest to rally the Psycho... the referee reaches out for the Psycho's arm a third time... and the Psycho snatches it away! Huge crowd pop!] TD: The Psycho's starting to fight to his feet! And the crowd's one hundred percent behind him! Look at this Steve, this is incredible! SR: You're telling me. These peons actually know how to say words of two syllables... [The Psycho battles to his feet, and then, to everyone's surprise, but mostly Creed's, drops straight back down to the canvas! As Creed's head is jerked down, the Psycho leans back and whips his foot over his head, kicking Creed hard in the face! Big crowd pop! Creed releases the hold, and staggers back, clutching his nose...] SR: Something else he learnt from Tiger Claw? TD: I don't know Steve, I've never seen a full nelson escaped like that before... SR: Really? I used to do it all the time! TD: Really? Didn't the feather boas get in the way? [The Psycho rolls to his feet as Creed staggers forward again, and nails Creed with a hard side kick to the midsection! Big pop! The Psycho runs up behind Creed, driving him face first into the canvas with a bulldog! Big crowd pop, followed by a big heel pop as a figure comes running down to ringside... swiftly followed by another...] TD: Here comes Casey James... and Mad Dog Watkins as well... we could really do without this... SR: Really? I was just getting bored! Who's your daddy? [The Psycho whips Creed into the ropes, and nails him with a big powerslam on the rebound! The Psycho points to the top rope, and starts to climb just as Casey James hits the ring and nails him from behind...] TD: We really don't need this sort of thing. This was shaping up to be a terrific match... SR: Hey, come on! Let Mad Dog and Casey James express themselves! It's like... it's like... artistic license! TD: You really make me sick sometimes, Steve, you know that? [James starts pounding on The Psycho in the corner, just as Watkins rolls in behind the staggering Creed and nails him with a chair! Big heel pop! Brian Lau saunters down to ringside, a satisfied smirk on his face as he watches James work over the Psycho... Satisfied that Creed is down, Watkins walks over towards the brawling pair just as the Subway Psycho takes the initiative with a swift kick to the stomach...] TD: Oh no... Watkins has locked the Subway Psycho's arms... SR: Oh _dear_. Looks like it's field day on Sewer Rats... Go Casey! [Casey James rubs his chin thoughtfully and walks out of the corner, before slapping the Subway Psycho hard across the face with the back of his hand! The Psycho lashes out with his foot, catching James in the stomach, and James flies at him, raining blow after blow down on the Psycho's head! Heel pop! Behind the three, Creed starts to stir again...] TD: This is terrible. Casey James has The Subway Psycho at his mercy here... SR: Yeah. And he's going to teach him a lesson he won't forget in a hurry: don't mess with the Syndicate. [James lifts the Psycho's chin up and slaps him across the face again, just as Creed staggers to his feet. Creed looks around, and sees what is happening, and walks over towards the trio just as Casey James starts to wind up for a Blackheart Punch... Huge crowd pop!] TD: Creed just dragged Watkins off the Psycho, and he James hit nothing but air! And look at the Psycho go to work on James! [The Psycho goes wild on Casey James, smashing blow after blow down on him... on the other side of the ring, Watkins is backing away from Creed who pushes him hard in the chest... The Psycho whips Casey James into the ropes, and follows through with a clothesline that sends James all the way to the outside, and Brian Lau quickly rushes over, only to find himself facing a crutch wielding Tiger Claw... Watkins, realising that he's outnumbered, beats a hasty retreat, and is quickly followed by first Lau and James, and then the duo of Creed and the Subway Psycho...] TD: What a confrontation we've just had here... and you have to think that Creed, whether he meant to or not, has just narrowly avoided disaster for the Subway Psycho... SR: Spoilsport. TD: This one looks as though it's going to carry on back in the dressing room area... we'll have more news on events as and when they happen.. In the meantime, it looks as though this has been ruled a no-contest. Fans, we're now just three weeks away from Ring Wars III, and the card just continues to get better and better. Top to bottom, there's never been an IIWF event with such an incredible lineup. Right now, Larry Morton is backstage with the IIWF President to announce more incredible... hey! [The crowd has suddenly erupted in a torrent of jeers once more. Mr. Robinson reappears from the crowd, decked out in the latex, just like last time, and enters into the ring.] TD: [over the headset] I can't believe this. Didn't security throw this guy out? SR: [over the headset] If it wasn't for my back, I'd get up there and eject this guy the hard way myself. MR: [with a fake crying face] Ahhh... I'm sorry, did I rub you guys up the wrong way? [smirking again] Well, I live in a place... the "loop"... That's a bit different than the IIWF... I come from a place where... Men don't wear pink... Bitch slapping is illegal... And you're man enough to step up and back up what you say... I know someone who understands what it's like to be awesome in his own right, and especially in comparison to... [looking at one fat ass in the crowd.] _you_. Hell, what do I know? [smirking] You might be great in your own right... The IIWF might be great in its own right... BUT... The IIWF will never seem great, when it has... THE "LOOP"... The PCW... The DPW... The EWA... In comparison. The IIWF will never seem great when its biggest star, Dan Kauffman, resembles a f'n' prostitute, doing his best work on his back... Ask him how many lights are on the ceiling, he could probably tell you... The stars of the IIWF will never be great, when they have to stand side by side with the _legends_ like... Mister Robinson... and... SUUUUUPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPEEEEEEEEEEERRRRRRRRRRRRR!! [Mr. Robinson hushes up after saying the word "Super"... He looks out to the aisleway...] The _man_, the _myth_, the _legend_... SUPPPEEEERRRRRRRRRRR.... [Quietly] Scott! TD: [over the headset] Super Scott?! SR: [over the headset] That guy's got a mouth like a trucker, Dross! Get the censors on danger money right now! [The crowd stands in shock. The arena is dead silent... Then, the crowd gets a first hand look at the "anti-Christ" of wrestling, Super Scott, as he appears in the aisleway. Super Scott stops, and looks over the vast arena... The crowd begins to boo louder and louder as their shock wears off. Super Scott is actually smiling, a sadistic smile, as he walks slowly to the ring... After every few steps, Super stops and looks over the audience. Super is looking rather casual tonight, wearing a t-shirt that simply says, "LOOP," as well as some Levi's. After a couple minutes, the Most Hated Man in wrestling and 6th best wrestler in the world according to the RSPWF 200, makes it into the ring where he is greeted by Mister Robinson. Super takes the mic...] SS: Well, well, well... [pause] The RSPWF's Best League in the World, eh? I just _HAD_ to check this out first hand. [Super pauses, licks his lips, continues scanning the crowd, and finally takes a deep breath...] SS: I've changed a lot over the past year. Up until May of last year, _I_ was the talk of the wrestling world. I was the EWA World Champion, and later PCW Champion, which meant I was the BEST wrestler in the world at the time. I also had more people want me _DEAD_ than anyone else. You all know the story, so I'll spare you the damn details. So why am I here? Well, you all know me as the man that gave the "LOOP" a bad name. You all hate my guts, and my feelings for you aren't much different. RSPWF, land of the SHITFEDS, voted YOU GUYS, the IIWF, as the BEST league out there. That must make you guys the best pile of SHIT in the world, and I'm SURE you're very proud. WOO HOO! WAY TO GO, GUYS! Y'all made mommy and daddy proud. You guys are the best, but think about THIS before you celebrate...some shit may be better than other shit, but the fact REMAINS... it's _STILL_ shit. [Crowd boos some, but Super keeps on talking...] SS: You guys were voted number one because everyone HATES me, so they HATE what they see me as representing. They HATE the "LOOP" because of _ME_, so the IIWF has _ONE_ man to THANK for being voted #1... and that's _ME_! [Crowd begins to throw objects at the ring...] SS: For almost a year, it's been the "LOOP" against the world. Last year we had an event called Superstar Summit, which in many ways is where the "LOOP" was born. Well, this year, Superstar Summit isn't just for the "LOOP." You see, the IIWF was invited... [Crowd cheers like crazy and a few chants of "IIWF" are heard.] SS: Yeah. KEEP ON CHANTING, dammit. You people have done a LOT of talking the last few months, but up until now, you haven't done a DAMN thing to back it up. NEXT WEEK, why don't you send ONE of your men, ANY man, to take on Mister Robinson. Hell, WE'LL come here, we don't care. NEXT WEEK, one of you assholes take on Mister Robinson, a man who has NEVER lost a match in the "LOOP", and at Superstar Summit II, I am ALL YOURS! [A security guard charges the ring, but Mister Robinson stomps on him...] SS: You know, I haven't been myself lately. And as I look over this capacity crowd, the more I realize something. The more things change, the more it stays the same and yet, the more it gets different. It's odd, but true. And that is the thought I'll leave with everyone this week. Next week, I'll give you a WHOLE lot more to think about. NEXT WEEK, I will be back. [Super Scott spikes the microphone into the mat as his music begins to play. The crowd boos like crazy... Mr. Robinson and Super Scott smirk at each other and Mr. Robinson crawls to the outside and swats at an ugly ass fan's nose. He smirks and watches Super Scott getting amusement out of it. Mr. Robinson stands up on a table playing to the crowd, as he starts to unbutton his rubber latex t-shirt, revealing a "LOOP" T-Shirt underneath.] TD: [over the headset] This is disgusting! These men can't just come here, verbally attack the IIWF, physically attack both security staff _and_ the fans, and just get away with it! SR: [over the headset] Call the cops, Dross! This is ridiculous! MR: Scotty... You _know_ that _I_ have fought _20_ professional fights in my lifetime, giving me a lifetime record of _20_ wins, and well, "0" is undefined, so I have an undefined amount of losses... Numbers like "1", or "2", have values, "0" doesn't... Maybe if me and Super Scott show up here once in a while, people will start paying attention to the the little IIWF... _But_ until then, [Mr. Robinson smacks the "LOOP" logo on Super Scott's chest.] _Everyone_ will continue watching the "loop"... Maybe even the "LOOP" can give the IIWF a little bit of a help... Maybe the loop can give _wrestling_ a little bit of help... If I could give wrestling an enema, i'd shove the needle into the IIWF... Obviously a couple people in here think that they're a little good... Maybe so, but who here is _great_ ? You all heard Scott's challenge, and you see _the_ _man_... ["What's f'n' wrong with your head" by Orange 9mm blasts over the PA system. With every hard power chord hit, Mr. Robinson flexes into the cameras with Super Scott as they walk on down the aisle to disappear under a torrent of boos. Security swarm into the backstage area after them. Cut back to the announcers' table.] TD: I'm shocked, Steve Roberts. SR: So am I, Dross. So am I. But let me say one thing: those two inbreds can come in here and exercise their little schoolboy fantasies about coming from the big leagues, but listen here, assholes. It doesn't get any bigger than the IIWF. This here _is_ the big league. You'd better be sure that all your little nepotistic friends in the "loop", your own private fan club, are going to help you back those words up. Come the Summit, we'll see who the big league is. We'll see. TD: I understand Larry Morton is still backstage with the IIWF President, who has been watching these events on a monitor. Larry? [Cut to backstage. Larry Morton stands beside the IIWF President, who turns from a video monitor showing the live broadcast.] LM: Yes, Tim, I'm here, and I must confess that I am just as shocked as you are. Mr. President, what do you make of all this? DS: [looking very angry] I'm shocked that the Coliseum's security has been undermined in such degrading fashion, for one thing. I don't wish to make a statement on the two incidents we've seen here tonight at this time. I'm going to review this incident and confer with the IIWF's legal advisers to see what action can be taken against these two men. LM: Will you be allowing them to return next week to meet their challenge? DS: Under no circumstances will those two individuals set foot in the IIWF Coliseum ever again. Mark my words. I guarantee that tonight's incursion was a one-off aberration. LM: Is the issue of the IIWF's participation in the Superstar Summit now brought into question? DS: I'm reluctant to pull the IIWF out of an event as extremely prestigious as the Summit, but I shall be taking this issue into advisement. The IIWF will make some kind of formal protest to the so-called "loop" federations, rest assured. I have no further comment on the matter, except to apologise to the worldwide television audience which has been forced to sit through some of the most excruciating moments of broadcasting I have ever had the misfortune of witnessing. The IIWF remains committed to entertainment of the highest order, and what we have seen tonight from these two intruders by no means qualifies as such. LM: Very well, Mr. President. Any further announcements regarding Ring Wars III? DS: Briefly, Larry, I can announce that following the events we have seen here tonight, two more matches will be added to the card for Ring Wars III: Nightwing will battle Cheshire one-on-one -- and Cheshire has asked that this be made a "tar and feathers" match. I have no idea what these stipulations involve, and I will be investigating this forthwith. Additionally, "Sychosys" Joe Petrow will battle Dirt Dog Unique Allah in a match with stipulations yet to be named, when rules are established which are agreeable to both parties. These are two volatile athletes, and a match between them will be geared suitably. LM: That's great news, Mr. President. What... DS: [interrupting] I'm sorry, Larry. I have to leave you now -- there are some more pressing matters to attend to. [The IIWF President leaves the shot.] LM: The feathers of the IIWF President well and truly ruffled. Back to you at ringside. [Cut back to the announcers' table.] TD: Thanks, Larry. Two more matches added to that incredible Ring Wars III lineup. SR: Dross, I still can't believe that... TD: [interrupting] Steve, you heard the producer. No more talk on-air about that incident. It's time for tonight's main event. It's been a long time coming, but both of the competitors in this next matchup have been eagerly awaiting the day they stepped into the ring against each other one more time. SR: And it's a day Dan Kauffman will long regret. Retirement may come early for the "Flash in the Pan" when Annis gets finished with him. TD: I wouldn't be too sure about that, Steve. These two had an incredible match in the tournament known as the WCeW, with Annis taking the win under somewhat controversial circumstances. SR: Hey, Dross, a win is a win. Any time you have your hand raised after a match, it goes down in the books as a victory. TD: You can bet Dan Kauffman hasn't forgotten that match -- Serge Annis certainly hasn't: [Cut to backstage. Serge Annis stands, missing his usual ring attire. Instead, he wears red ring pants with black arm bands and wrist bands. The word "HATE" is written down the side in black. Annis's face has a white smudge of face paint on his right cheek, mixed with a bit of red. Annis looks into the camera slowly.] SA: Tonight, is Dan Kauffman. He is the entire reason I came to the IIWF... so I could have my chance at wrestling Dan Kauffman once more. You can forget about Deathbringer, forget about the Phoenix and even Unique. Dan Kauffman, when I came ot this federation, you were the IIWF World Heavyweight Champion. I knew I couldn't get a match with you as long as you were champion. So I waited... and waited... untill finally the day came that you lost your title to Casey James... that was the day that you really became a marked man. I beat you in the WCeW a long time ago, Kauffman... but you cried wolf... and made my victory look cheap. I will not go as far as to deny that I was just as beat as you were... it was a purely equal match, but luck was with me, DK, and your shoulders were pinned to the mat, not mine. Then you whined and cried about it, Kauffman. In WCeW, and in the Ringlord. Well, tonight is your chance... see... competition may be what has driven you through the IIWF... well, the thought of wrestling you once more has been my only vision... and I will finish you where I left off... and I will snap your neck in vain with a chokeslam... but Kauffman... you have always...and always will, have Serge Annis's complete respect... a first for the Epitome of Evil. I will see you in the ring soon... and settle it for eternity... [Cut back to ringside.] SR: "Settle it for eternity"?! Give me a break! Hello, Serge?! TD: It appears we're about ready to get this match underway, so let's go up to the ring and Sparkplug Lee. =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- Dan Kauffman vs. Serge Annis -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= WRITER: SO [The spotlight falls on Sparkplug picking something out of his ear. He quickly catches himself as "Some Days It's Dark" begins to blare over the PA system. SL: Ladies and gentlemen, this contest is scheduled for one fall. Introducing first, hailing from Oakville, Ontario, Canada, and weighing in at 293 pounds, here is the "Epitome of Evil"... Serge Annis! [Big heel pop as Annis strolls slowly into the Coliseum, a single spotlight following him down the aisle. The word "HATE" can still clearly be seen on his cheek and he sticks his face in the nearest camera and chants "Kauffffmaaaan... Kauffffmaaaan..." almost like a human serpent. A fan attempts to reach over the railing and grab Annis, but a quick flick of Serge's trusty Zippo lighter sends the fan falling back into the crowd. Annis fixes a steely gaze on the fan before continuing to the ring. As he stands in the ring, the lights flicker, and the voice of Deathbringer booms out over the PA:] TD: Not again... DB: Annis... Prepare to feel my power at Ring Wars III... The dead man will rise and you will feel the fire that burns within him... Three men down... and the Reaper rules the land... [Annis simply shakes his head and shouts, calling Deathbringer out. The lights stop flickering, and the referee tries to calm Annis down.] TD: Serge Annis doesn't appear impressed by Deathbringer's message, Steve. SR: Wait until he receives it in person, Dross. Then he'll be impressed right into the mat. SL: And his opponent, about to make his way to the ring, is a former IIWF World Heavyweight Champion. Hailing from Hagerstown, Maryland, and weighing in at 230 pounds, please welcome Dan "Flash" Kauffman! [Big face pop as the lights drops and Kauffman enters the Coliseum. A small group of fans wear matching "Kauffman-iacs" t-shirts and begin a "Kauff-man... Kauff-man" chant. Suddenly, Kauffman stops in the aisle and looks at Annis standing in the ring. A smile crosses his face as he points at Serge.] TD: Uh-oh, Kauffman has gotten his first glimpse of Annis here. What could be running through his mind? SR: The words to "Baa, Baa, Black Sheep"? [Kauffman slowly produces a Zippo lighter and mocks Annis as he flicks a flame in the aisle. The crowd goes wild as Kauffman holds the lighter high above his head. Annis is clearly seething in the ring.] TD: Dan Kauffman certainly got Serge's attention. SR: Why would Kauffman want to hear "Freebird" before a big match? [Kauffman's flame is quickly extinguished as three fans wearing "I'm a Sychopath" t-shirts take big swigs of their beer and then spit the beer like a fountain at Kauffman. The former champ walks toward the three as one of them yells, "If you don't fight Petrow, you're gonna retire as a coward!" Security rushes to the scene to prevent any altercation. One guard hands Kauffman a towel, who wipes it over his face before continuing to the ring.] SR: Ha! Those Sychopaths are everywhere! I'll bet the Man of Steel wishes they would have spit beer on him before he retired. [Kauffman jumps up onto the ring apron, but as he steps between the ropes, Annis charges him and knocks him to the arena floor. The referee signals for the start of the match as Serge climbs out of the ring and stomps away on Kauffman, then drags him to his feet. Big heel pop as Annis puts Kauffman's head between his legs and prepares for a piledriver, but Kauffman powers out of the hold and backdrops Annis onto the arena floor. Big face pop.] TD: These men are taking it outside early on, which is pretty much what we expected. There's no love lost between these two. SR: There's no love at all between them! C'mon Annis, let's see Kauffman bleed! [Kauffman rolls under the bottom rope to break Referee Earl Alfonso's count, then rolls back out to the arena floor. He grabs Serge's head and rams it into the ring post, then whips him into the steel crowd barrier. Annis goes down quickly. Again, Kauffman climbs into the ring to break the count, but begins to climb the turnbuckles.] TD: Kauffman is going up top! What in the world is he...? SR: This'll be great! Kauffman isn't an aerialist. He'll get killed trying a move like this! [As Annis staggers to his feet, Kauffman launches himself in a moonsault from the top turnbuckle. He hits Annis squarely in the chest and both men crash to the Coliseum floor. Huge face pop.] TD: A moonsault from the top turnbuckle. I've never seen Dan Kauffman do anything like that! SR: When you lose as many matches as he has lately, you're desperate to try anything. [Alfonso's count reaches seven before Kauffman rolls Annis into the ring and then climbs into the ring himself. Kauffman stomps on his opponent's knee. He nods to himself and then applies a falcon leglock and Annis grunts in pain as Kauffman locks it on tightly. Alfonso drops to the mat and asks Annis if he wants to submit.] TD: Dan Kauffman has hit the ring on fire tonight. He's trying to put Annis away early with this submission hold. SR: You can't make someone like Annis submit. He's one of those guys who seems to thrive on pain. [Alfonso keeps checking Annis, who slowly makes his way to the ropes, forcing Kauffman to break the hold. Both men are quickly to their feet, although Annis seems to be favoring his leg. Kauffman dives at the leg, but Annis skillfully puts a boot to Dan's face, then presses his boot against Kauffman's throat, using the top rope for extra leverage. Alfonso finally gets Annis to break the choke, only to see Annis drop to the mat and begin pummeling Kauffman with right hands.] TD: Annis seems to have lost his composure here. He's firing away on Kauffman. SR: It doesn't take much to trip Serge's trigger and it looks like Kauffman has done it now. [Annis pulls Kauffman to his feet, only to floor him again with a short- arm clothesline. He throws up his arms and roars at the crowd, only to be met with a rain of "boos." Annis makes an obscene gesture to the crowd as he limps to the corner and climbs the turnbuckles. As he reaches the top, he leaps toward Kauffman and attempts to drop a knee on Dan's head, but Kauffman sits up and the Serge's knee hits the canvas with force. Kauffman immediately goes to work on the injured knee, wrenching it and then adding a few stomps.] TD: Kauffman seems intent on working on Serge's knee here -- an odd strategy when you consider Kauffman's finishers don't involve... hey, look who's making his way to the ring! SR: What took "Squiggly" Quigley so long? [A mixed pop greets Chris Quigley as he walks slowly down the aisle, watching the action in the ring as he goes. Dressed in street clothes, he avoids the fans as he strolls down the aisle, then stands at the ring entrance with his arms crossed. Kauffman takes a moment to glance at Quigley, giving Annis enough time to get to his feet and hit Kauffman from behind with a double axhandle. Quigley shakes his head in disdain outside the ring.] TD: A big mistake by Kauffman right there, allowing himself to be distracted by Chris Quigley. SR: Squiggly is winning the mind battle. Kauffman can't keep his concentration on the match at hand -- which is good for Serge Annis. Besides, Kauffman _invited_ Quigley to come down and watch this match, remember? He said he had something to show Quigley -- although it isn't like we all haven't seen Kauffman get his butt kicked. [Annis climbs to the second rope and drops an elbow on Kauffman's throat, then picks him up and scrapes his face along the ropes. Big heel pop. Annis laughs maniacally and yells something at Quigley about Kauffman "not making it to Ring Wars". Kauffman slumps to the mat, only to be pulled back to his feet. Annis hits him with a headbutt that sends Kauffman back to the mat, then jumps off the bottom rope and lands with a knee across Kauffman's throat. Outside the ring, Quigley again throws his arms up and shakes his head.] TD: Chris Quigley does not look impressed with Kauffman's showing right now. SR: Neither do I. It's hard to believe this loser ever held the belt. TD: In all fairness, Quigley missed the early part of this match when Kauffman was dominating Annis. SR: And we all missed your youth when you had hair, Dross. We're talking about what's going on right now, and Annis is dominating Kauffman. [Annis goes back to the ropes and yells something else at Quigley, not realizing that Kauffman staggers behind him. Kauffman scoops Annis up in an inside cradle - 1 - 2 - kick out!] TD: Wow, our first near fall of this match! SR: But Kauffman didn't... ooh! [Roberts is cut short as Annis hits Kauffman with a crotchslam. He pulls Kauffman to his feet, whips him into the ropes and nearly takes his head off with a big clothesline. He picks him up and again whips Kauffman into the ropes again, catching Alfonso out of position. The referee is knocked from the ring and does not see Annis catch Kauffman and hit a huge DDT on the former champ. Annis covers, but Alfonso is not there to make the count.] TD: Annis has Kauffman pinned, but Alfonso is out of the ring! SR: Somebody get that weakling back in the ring. This is Serge's big moment! Look at this, he's got him... one, two, three, four, five! Dammit, c'mon, you lousy excuse for a referee! TD: I'll have you know Earl Alfonso is our senior official and... hey, look at Quigley! [Quigley climbs into the ring behind Annis and stomps on the back of Serge's head, breaking the pin. He pulls Annis to his feet, whips him into the corner and follows him in for a splash. Finally, he grabs Serge's head and leaps over the top rope, snapping Serge's neck against the rope and slingshotting him back into the ring. Quigley then walks and revives Alfonso before rolling him into the ring.] TD: Chris Quigley just had his way with Serge Annis! SR: Yeah, for a sneak attack. It's just like Quigley to jump Annis from behind! TD: Kauffman is getting to his feet, but Annis looks like he's out cold. [Kauffman staggers toward Annis, then sees Quigley outside the ring, still with a look of disdain on his face. Quigley merely shakes his head at Kauffman and then begins to walk back up the aisle. Kauffman yells Quigley's name and then points his index finger directly at "Quickstrike." Kauffman quickly wraps up Annis' legs in a Scorpion Deathlock and then leans back to increase the pressure.] TD: It's the Quickstriker! Dan Kauffman just used Chris Quigley's trademark finishing move! SR: Yeah, and Quigley doesn't look happy about it. [Alfonso signals for the bell as Annis submits to the hold, but Quigley quickly storms the ring and pulls Kauffman from Annis. Quigley gets in Kauffman's face and the ring mic picks up "saved your ass." Kauffman goes chest-to-chest with Quigley and "save your own ass" can be heard over the mic.] TD: Uh-oh, we've got trouble with a capital "T" in the ring. SR: Hell, this is great. Let's just have Ring Wars III here tonight! [Kauffman shoves Quigley away and steps through the ropes as if to leave the ring. However, Quigley grabs his hair and pulls Kauffman back into the ring, delivering a hard right hand that sends Kauffman flying into the corner. Kauffman wipes at his mouth and sees a trace of crimson, then charges at Quigley and tackles him. Both men begin to exchange blows as Alfonso attempts to separate them.] SR: Blood! Yes! Kauffman's bleeding! Get a tight shot! TD: Somebody get some assistance out here or these men won't make it to Ring Wars III. [Alfonso is knocked from the ring as the brawl continues. Kauffman pounds away on Quigley, only to have "Quickstrike" roll and begin punching Kauffman. The Jobber Justice Squad runs to the ring and surrounds the men.] TD: This is out of hand! Fans, we're out of time for tonight. Don't forget to call the IIWF Hotline for all the news that is news in the IIWF, and tune in to "IIWF Monday Musings" for comments on tonight's big card. SR: There's blood! We can't sign off now! TD: We've got to go! For Steve Roberts, this is Tim Dross, saying: so long, everybody! [The Jobber Justice Squad finally separate Quigley and Kauffman, but Kauffman breaks away and dives on Quigley as the shot fades.] +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= 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 -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=+