[Fade up on footage captioned, "IIWF Saturday Night: Last Week." Dan Kauffman and his "Old Generation" comrades -- Tiger Claw, Casey "Blackheart" James, Deathbringer and Otto Verhoeven -- stand in the squared circle, while in the aisle stand the combined forces of Genesis, fronted by IIWF World Heavyweight Champion Requiem. Requiem stands furthest forward, his arms folded, the World belt glittering around his waist; behind his left shoulder stands Serge Annis, and beyond him stands Fitz; behind Requiem's right shoulder stands Scott Rogers, and beyond him stands Icehawk. All of them stand firm, their arms folded, a stern expression on their faces. The footage is played in slow motion, and it appears that neither side will move. A menacing, pulsing beat begins to swell, over which comes a voice over:] VO: Two factions, two ideologies... Last week, Genesis and the so-called "Old Generation" of the IIWF clashed on more than one occasion... [Flash cut to the brawl at the end of the show, a wide angle shot showing total pandemonium as Casey James and Tiger Claw swing wildly at Genesis with their steel chairs, Otto Verhoeven, still in the remains of his ripped tuxedo, blasts away at Requiem. Cut back to the almost eerily still footage of the Old Gen in the ring and Genesis in formation in the aisle.] VO: The force known as Genesis proved yet again that it will stoop to any depth to secure victory... at any cost. [Flash cut to the wild brawl between Gabrielle and Nurse Heidi, culiminating in Heidi being stretchered away from ringside. Cut to a close-up of Otto Verhoeven as he follows the EMT crew up the aisle. The German yells into the camera:] OV: REQUIEM! REQUIEM! YOU WILL PAY FOR TONIGHT'S WORK! I SWEAR IT! [The words echo into oblivion as the screen fades to darkness. The voice over continues:] VO: Tonight, just seven days away from Midsummer Madness, Genesis will meet the Old Generation head-on in the ring. Who will prevail? [Pounding drums accompany almost strobing cuts to the athletes involved executing devastating manoeuvres on hapless opponents, while snippets of Dan Kauffman's recent commments drift over the footage:] DK: Right or wrong, fraud or no, I've never backed down from anyone. And Requiem, I'm not starting now. The talk about respect is done. It's time to earn some. And that, my friend, is what I do best. [The opening graphics explode onto the screen:] ________ ______ __ ____ ___ __ . _ ___ | || |\ \ /\ / /| __| / /\ | | || \| \ /\ \ / |\ || / \| | | | || | \ v v / | __| \__ /__\ | | ||__/| |/__\ v | \||| __|-| | |_||_| \_/\_/ |_| \ \| v | \|__/ \| | || \_|| | | __________________________/...hour one...\........|...|.......|....| LIVE! IIWF Coliseum, Portland, Oregon August 30 1997 [Fade through to interior shots of the jam-packed IIWF Coliseum. Twenty thousand fans line the stands, many decked out in IIWF merchandise or as lookalikes of their favourite superstar, and many more waving home-made signs. The shot pans down past row upon row of cheering faces, the excitement almost palpable as suddenly a huge volley of fireworks erupts above the ring, rockets shooting down to the four corner posts and apparently triggering four huge explosions of sparks from the posts, almost completely obscuring the ring in their brilliant light. Huge, huge pop! Over these scenes comes the voice of veteran announcer Tim Dross:] TD: Welcome everybody to the IIWF Coliseum! Welcome everybody to IIWF Saturday Night! We are just seven days away from Midsummer Madness... and here comes the Syndicate! [As the smoke around the ring area clears, "Roots" by Sepultura blares over the PA. The fans go into a massive pop as Tiger Claw comes out to the head of the aisle, dressed in his wrestling gear, shaking his head.] TD: Listen to these fans! SR: A damn shame... You hear me? A damn shame... The Syndicate getting cheered... Oh, man... TD: I'm guessing that the Syndicate's stand against Genesis has gotten the fans behind them, Steve... SR: Wonk, wonk... You know what I say... Wait... Hey! It's the Outlaw! [A man comes out the the head of the aisle, dressed in black tights, a long grey trenchcoat, and wearing the Outlaw mask. The crowd immediately breaks into a "Blackheart! Blackheart!" chant.] TD: Alright, Steve, stop it... Everyone knows that Casey James is the man wearing that mask. Remember Coronation Clash? SR: I remember the Outlaw whuppin' ass, is what I remember. TD: And then getting the mask taken off, revealing none other than Casey James. SR: Well, yeah, but... Dross, you just don't get it. TD: Well, perhaps I should go up there and ask them. SR: Go ahead. TD: Maybe I will. SR: I dare you. TD: Dare me, huh? SR: Double dog... All the trimmings. TD: Double dog? Well, I can't exactly turn that down... Off I go. [Just as Claw and the masked man enter the ring, Dross enters, carrying a cordless microphone.] TD: The Syndicate, folks! [Big pop!] TD: Guys... Okay, guys... Casey... What's with the mask? MASKED MAN: [in a gruff voice] Whaddya mean, Dross-man? You're lookin' at the Outlaw! TD: You know you're not fooling anyone. [The man removes the mask revealing... Casey James!] CJ: No? TD: No. So why the mask? CJ: Well, it's like this. If there's one legacy in the IIWF, it's the actions of one "Outlaw" J.W. Hardin. Sure, the big man's retired, probably not coming back. But I ask you, Dross, if he were here right now, what do you think he'd say? [James pauses, almost as if to let Dross answer. As Dross is about to, James cuts him off.] CJ: I'll tell you what he'd say. He'd say "What the hell's a goin' on in _my_ IIWF?" I guarantee there's a head or two he'd be out to crack. TD: Genesis, perhaps? CJ: Perhaps. So let's just say the Outlaw is coming in and making his presence known, one way or another. TD: Through you? CJ: Sure. TD: Let's get back to Genesis. Casey, you have been put at the forefront of the movement against Genesis. What are your thoughts? CJ: From being the man you love to hate to being the guy that everyone loves, all in a matter of weeks. Don't feel right, I'll tell you that. Now I'm grouped in with Dan Kauffman. That is definitely odd. But hell, when there's a fight to be had, I'm right in there. Genesis, you all remind me of another stable that used to run rampant in the IIWF. You know it, Requiem knows it. There's not much difference between the Syndicate of old and the Genesis Generation. Do I hate them? How can I hate someone who's just doing what I used to do? It's like trying to hate that funny little kid who tries to wear your shoes, but they're too big, and he keeps falling down and rolling on the floor, making an ass of himself. Am I jealous? Hell no. What I do feel when I see them doing what they're doing is disappointment. I'm watching these guys doing it all wrong. These guys _could_ be the new Syndicate, but they won't be. They just don't have the equipment. You know what that is? [The crowd shouts out something rhyming with "halls."] CJ: No, no... The brains. But hey, who knows? They're still young. Maybe after scrapping with some of us old farts for a while, they'll understand. There's nothing I hate more than watching someone do a job badly. Requiem, you and the rest of the cast of Space Jam should take notes, because we wrote the book that you're reading. TD: And this is why you and Tiger Claw will be teaming up with Kauffman, Deathbringer, and Otto Verhoeven tonight in the ten man tag. [Claw grabs the mic.] TC: Dross, we're in that match because we realize that the veterans of the IIWF have to look out for their own. When you think of the classic matches here, the names of Requiem and Highwayman don't come up. Names like Casey James, Dan Kauffman, Tiger Claw, Deathbringer, and Otto Verhoeven do. It's time that the moniker of "old gen" became less of a badge of shame and more of a medal of honour. It's time for some respect. Yes, respect must be earned, and we're willing to earn it with these punks. Tonight, with the veterans by our sides, we will earn the respect of the fans, and we will earn the respect of Genesis. TD: And what about Midsummer Madness? You two are slated in one half of the main event. TC: We stepped up to the challenge. In fact, we _made_ the challenge in the first place. We'll stand by the side of Watkins... We have a request, though. TD: A request? TC: Yes, Dross, a request. Since the IC belt is on the line, we see no reason why the tag team titles should be safe. A member of our team stands to lose something in this match, so it seems only fair that Genesis stands to lose something as well. Cold Spell, we propose a similar stipulation... We ask that you put your tag titles on the line. [Huge pop!] If either Casey or I can eliminate either Icehawk or Fitzgerald, then the titles change hands. Being the true champions that I'm sure that you are, I have no doubt that you'll have no problem with this. TD: I'm sure this will have to be cleared with the head office, but what a main event this could be with each side putting a title up for grabs! CJ: Yeah, yeah... Big ticket sales, everyone wearing Syndicate T-shirts. Brings a tear to my eye. All we care about is the titles. New Gen, Old Gen, whatever. Gold is gold no matter how old you are. TC: But tonight we fight for the respect of the elders. CJ: Yeah, right. I know that. TD: It must be hard for you to work with Kauffman, Casey... CJ: Well, I'll just say this... Who'd have thought that Kauffman would be teaming up with the guy that kidnapped his dog? It's just weird, man... Crazy. TC: Past rivalries are just that... In the past. The future of the IIWF stands with the five men that stand to oppose Genesis tonight. Otto Verhoeven, Dan Kauffman, Deathbringer, and... The Syndicate! ["Roots" thunders over the PA again as Claw and Casey each take to separate corners to play the crowd. Tim Dross stands in the center of the ring, enjoying the crowd response. The crowd goes nuts. Steve Roberts is heard muttering something about the downfall of western civilization. Casey slips the Outlaw mask over his head, which brings another round of cheers from the crowd, and another heated burst of muttering from Roberts. The Syndicate finally leave the ring and head up the aisle, Dross returning to the broadcast table. The shot cuts to the ringside table as Dross dons his headset and adjusts the microphone. Beside him is seated "Soundbite" Steve Roberts, who is decked out in his black leather jacket, over a t-shirt which reads "Day 49: IIWF Under Siege."] TD: Well, there you have it, folks -- that huge ten-man tag team encounter is coming up later on here tonight, and what a match it's going to be! The forces of Genesis will step into the ring against the most decorated partnership in IIWF history -- four former World Champions, and a three-time Intercontinental Champion. Never in the history of this great sport has such a group been assembled -- and it is the scourge that is Genesis that has brought them together! Folks, I'm Tim Dross, and beside me as always is my broadcast colleague, "Soundbite" Steve Roberts. What a show we have tonight, Steve. SR: I've got my beer, I've got my biscuits -- the only thing that's missing is the porn star, Dross. But I guess I can wait until next week, as long as we see Casey, Claw and friends give Culture Club the beating of their miserable lives. Not to mention Mad Dog Watkins going one-on-one with Requiem! TD: Indeed, the IIWF World Heavyweight Champion and the IIWF Intercontinental Champion are going to tangle in non-title action later on here tonight -- and next week, it will be Watkins captaining the team that faces the hordes of Genesis... SR: ...assuming that there is anything left of them after Team Old Gen gets through with them tonight! TD: Time will tell, Steve Roberts. And on top of all that, we will be hearing from the new Cruiserweight Champion, Derek Mota, and seeing one of his two opponents in that huge triple threat match next weekend, Simon Lebec, in action later on tonight against newcomer Dexter St. Croix. We're also expecting to hear from Ronnie Paris, an angry young man if ever there was one. SR: You got that right, Dross. I'm growing to like Paris more each time I see him -- and he's gonna be going up against Shakespeare again tonight. TD: Yes, folks, Ronnie Paris will be teaming with a man who, just a few weeks ago, he would have called his friend, the Phoenix, in order to face the man with whom he has had many disagreements, but who will, next week, be on the _same_ team, Billy Shakespeare, who will tonight be teaming with Kevin "the Cavalier" Christiansen. SR: Two peas in a pod, Dross. Shakespeare and Christiansen are made for one another. We'll just have to see which one of Nightwing's many personalities manifests itself tonight. TD: A volatile situation indeed -- and our other matches tonight also boast equally volatile situations. What about Tony Starks and an as yet unnamed mystery partner going up against the two men who eliminated Ryan Howard, who was to have been his partner tonight, Timothy N. Turner and Duncan Macbeth? SR: From what I hear, nobody wants to team with Starks, Dross. We could see him out here alone tonight! TD: I doubt that very much, Steve -- I don't think Starks' new comrades in the Age of Rage would leave him high and dry. SR: Yeah, but the Prophets of Rage -- my brothers -- they've got their own match to worry about, Dross, teaming with that pantywaist Ike Sampson against Licensed for Devastation and "Oatmeal" Luke Steele TD: And Luke Steele is another man on the edge, Steve Roberts -- you saw his comments last night. There is certainly a great deal of antagonism towards Dan Kauffman in particular areas of the IIWF's rosters, and the "Real Deal" has given voice to those concerns. SR: Aw, he's a whiner, Dross. Sure, I hate Kauffman as much as the next guy -- in fact, I hate Kauffman more than just about any guy you care to mention -- but Steele has got to face facts: he hasn't been able to get the job done against Culture Club. Boy Requiem has whipped his hide so many times I can barely even count, and now Steele's crying about not being given a fair chance? Give me a break. TD: Well, folks, tempers are certainly fraying, and things could explode right here tonight! Let's get up to the ring for our opening encounter, pitting two more Midsummer Madness opponents against one another: the Hollywood Bloods face the Machines. I believe Sparkplug Lee is ready to make the introductions. SR: Sparky ready? That'll be the day. TD: Let's get down to the ring. ________ ______ | || |\ \ /\ / /| __|.................................................. | || | \ v v / | __| The Machines vs. Hollywood Bloods |_||_| \_/\_/ |_|.................................................... WRITER: RR [Scene shifts to ringside, where Sparkplug Lee is standing in the ring with his information cards. He clears his throat, waves to the cheering audience, and begins his speech.] SL: Four score, and seven years ago, our fore... hey, wait a minute. [Lee quickly shuffles through his cards and finds the right one, ignoring the laughter from the audience.] SR: [over the headset] Told you he wasn't ready. SL: Ladies and gentlemen, WELCOME to the IIWF's Saturday Night! Our first contest of the evening is scheduled for one fall... [The opening chords of "Paradise City" by Guns 'n' Roses blare out over the loudspeaker, all but drowning out Sparkplug's announcement.] SL: Introducing first, at a total combined weight of 500 pounds, and hailing from Hollywood, California... THE HOLLYWOOD BLOODS! ["Late Night" Doug Wayne and Clark "Beach Bum" Watson stride out from the curtains, primping and flexing their way down to the ring. They climb in and stand on opposite turnbuckle, taunting the crowd in the way only a heel team can.] SL: And their opponents... at a total combined weight of 503 pounds, here are Simon O' Neal, Paul Wong... THE MACHINES! ["Paradise City" fades into Pink Floyd's "Welcome to the Machine" as Paul Wong and Simon O'Neal emerge from backstage. O'Neal walks straight towards the ring, while Wong is stopping to slap hands with the fans. At the end of the aisle, O'Neal turns around impatiently and yells for Wong to "hurry his sorry-[BLEEP] up," prompting a sigh and a quick trot to join his partner from Wong.] TD: We should keep in mind that both of these teams will be facing off at Midsummer Madness next week, so they may be sizing up each other a bit during this match to get a feel of the other team. Midsummer Madness! Ord... mmph! [As Roberts claps a hand over Dross' mouth to show his distaste of blatant and repetitive marketing, the timekeeper rings the bell, signifying the start of the match. Paul Wong starts off for the Machines, while Clark Watson begins for the Blondes. Both men lock up, with the larger watson quickly getting the advantage, pushing Wong back into the corner. The ref looks on, mildly confused, as Watson signals for the clean break, earning boos from the crowd but a look of befuddled respect from Wong -- as well as a groan from O'Neal outside. They lock up again, with pretty much the same result... Watson pushing Wong into the corner, and calling for the clean break. However, this time as the referee is breaking the two men up, Watson lashes out with a vicious open-handed slap that catches Wong right on the still mildly burned portion of his face, causing him to double over in pain.] SR: That's it, Watson! Go for the weak points! TD: You mean the burns? SR: No, I mean his head in general. [O'Neal shouts his protest from the outside, but it falls on deaf ears as Watson drags Wong out of the corner, knees him once in the gut for good measure, then runs him across the ring and tosses him between the second and top ropes to the floor. He then figures that this is as good a time as any to explain to the referee exactly WHY he did this, and strikes up a lively -- albeit onesided -- conversation with him as Doug Wayne hops down off the apron, grabs a chair, and waffles Wong with it. O'Neal sees this and jumps down to help, running around the ring, but Wayne has already rolled Wong back under the bottom rope. The ref cautions a surly O'Neal about interfering, drawing a look from him that would freeze most men's blood, then O'Neal turns and walks back to his corner. Meanwhile, Watson has rolled the prone Wong over, and hooked the leg, but only receives a two-count for his efforts as Wong manages to lift a shoulder before the ref could count three.] TD: And a near fall here by the Bloods, however underhanded it was. SR: Credit where credit's due, Dross. Good tag-team maneuvers there. TD: There were no tag-team maneuvers there! SR: Tag-team, double team... same difference. [Back in the ring, Watson has pulled Wong up to his feet, and is laying into the burned area with stiff jabs, finally backing him up against the ropes. He grabs Wong by the arm and Irish whips him to the far side, reaching out to tag O'Neal as he rebounds off, then leapfrogs over Watson, who had put his head down too early for a back body drop. Watson spins around, not seeing O'Neal enter the ring, and catches Wong's cross-body attempt... but this is quickly turned into a pinning predicament as O'Neal clips Watson's leg out from under him, causing Wong to fall on top of him. The ref counts to two, but stops as Wayne enters the ring and kicks Wong in the back of the head, breaking the pin. O'Neal goes after Wayne, choking him back into the corner as Wong climbs off of Watson and rolls back into his corner, then ducks a clothesline attempt by Watson from behind, letting him hit his partner instead.] SR: Oh, that was WAY below average. TD: Good presence of mind by O'Neal. SR: Yeah, but he can't act to save his life. TD: Act? SR: Have you seen STEEL yet? TD: That's a different O'Neal. [O'Neal turns and squares off with Watson, remembering now that he _is_ the legal man in the ring, and lays into him with a series of chops to the chest that echo throughout the arena. He backs him into a corner, then lays into him with a vicious bite to the forehead that has the ref shouting for a break, Watson screaming in pain, and O'Neal grinning like a madman afterwards. He whips him to the far corner... reversed, sending him back first into the pads. He sees Watson running towards him and tries to move, but fails, as Wayne is down next to the apron, holding his left boot. So, to make a long story short, Watson runs right into him. The referee goes to reprimand Wayne for his actions, so he doesn't notice Watson reaching into his trunks to grab something.] SR: Dammit, Clark! At least go to a bathroom and do that! TD: That's disgusting, Steve. Actually, I think he's... SR: Brass knuckles, Dross. I was making a joke, you dimwit. [And indeed, Roberts' words ring true. Watson reaches into his tights to pull out the brass knuckles, but they go flying up into the air as O'neal slaps Watson's hand, clubs him in the face with a stiff right, then jumps up and grabs the illegal weapon. He slips them onto his hand quickly, squares off, and KO's Watson with an uppercut that would make Mike Tyson proud. Lunging forward, he grabs Watson's leg with one hand, and slips the knuckles back into his fallen opponent's tights with the other, smiling happilt as Paul Wong intercepts Wayne before he can interrupt the inevitable three-count.] RA: Ladies and gentlemen, the winner of this match... THE MACHINES! SR: Stylish win there. I think I like O'Neal, although this Wong fellow's got to go. [The Machines make a quick exit, their arms raised, as Wayne and Watson spring back to their feet in the ring, almost disbelieving their sudden defeat. Watson nurses his tender jaw, and shoves Wayne, who staggers back to his feet after taking a hard shot from Wong. The crowd slap the Machines' backs as they retreat up the aisle, pointing back at the Bloods, who take a look out of the ring and then set off in pursuit of their opponents! Big pop!] TD: It looks like this one might not be over! Here come the Bloods! [Security staff pour out into the aisle to intercept Wayne and Watson, allowing the Machines to make good their escape. Cut back to the broadcast table at ringside.] TD: Well, the Hollywood Bloods will certainly have some motivation to eliminate the Machines from their Midsummer Madness matchup next weekend -- order from your local cable company right away to avoid missing out, folks! SR: Dross, will you please quit the hard sell? The people already know that the only way to see a bona fide porn star on the Soundbite's arm is to order that PPV. TD: You're just hoping that you can push up the buyrate so that IIWF officials will actually go out and get you a porn star. SR: Damned straight, baby dolls! TD: The next two matches should be interesting as they involve all the members of one of the three Midsummer Madness elimination matches! SR: Spreadbury just likes to screw people up. Who are your friends? Who are your enemies? Who doesn't like biscuits more than yours truly? TD: Uh, right. Anyway, at Midsummer Madness we will see Tony Starks, Duncan Macbeth, Ike Sampson, and the Prophets of Rage taking on Timothy N. Turner, Ryan Howard, Luke Steele, and Licensed for Devastation! SR: Timmy against Macbean! What is this world coming to? TD: But tonight we'll see the Prophets of Rage and Ike Sampson against Licensed for Devastation and Luke Steele, followed by Timothy N. Turner and Duncan Macbeth against Tony Starks and a mystery partner. Right now, though, let's go up to the ring for the first of these matches. ________ ______ | || |\ \ /\ / /| __|.................................................. | || | \ v v / | __| Prophets of Rage & Ike Sampson vs. |_||_| \_/\_/ |_| Licensed for Devastation & Luke Steele ....................................................................... WRITER: RP [Sparkplug Lee stands up in the ring and doesn't do anything wrong. In fact, he doesn't do anything at all until the timekeeper rings his bell again, apparently startling Sparky out of his reverie. He then launches into his introductions:] SL: The following match is a six man tag team match scheduled for one fall. Introducing first, weighing in at 304 pounds, this is Ike Sampsooooon! ["Kiss" by Prince plays as the large Sampson heads down to ringside. He is slapping the hands of the fans but he definitely looks a little wary.] TD: Ike doesn't look too happy about being in this match. SR: That's because he knows that he's the biggest wuss in the match. What's a weenie to do? SL: And his partners, hailing from Halifax, Nova Scotia and weighing in at a combined 573 pounds, Derek Rage, Shadoe Rage, the Prophets of Raaaaage! [Derek and Shadoe head down the aisle, led by Pizzazz as the "Death March" replaces Prince. They are scoffing at the fans but as they approach the ring, their scorn switches to their partner, Ike Sampson. They climb into the ring, but don't go over to talk strategy with Sampson.] TD: Can they work as a unit with this kind of disrespect going on? SR: What's that? Sampson is going to work as a eunuch? SL: And their opponents... first, hailing from Cleveland, Ohio and weighing in at 275 pounds, this is the "Real Deal" Luke Steeeeeeele! [Janet Jackson's "Black Cat" fills the air as Steele heads down the aisle. He ignores the calls of the fans and sneers towards the ring. When he reaches ringside he takes off his vest but waits before entering.] TD: Luke Steele is obviously wary of entering the ring with the Prophets up there. SR: "I'm So Scared I Could Squeal" Luke Steele isn't going to get up there with those two tough guys. TD: Don't forget Ike Sampson. SR: Like I said... SL: And his partners, hailing from Baltimore, Maryland and weighing in at a combined 530 pounds, Reggie Starr, Jonathan Chaos, they are Licensed for Devastatiooooon! ["Down" by 311 comes over the P.A. as Starr and Chaos head down to the ring, giving no more attention to the fans then Steele did.] TD: The big question has to be, which team will have more continuity? SR: Any team with Ike Sampson has to be at a big disadvantage. [Starr and Chaos stop and talk briefly with Steele before they hit the ring on fire and lay into the competition] TD: The team of LFD and Luke Steele are wasting no time taking on the opponents! LFD has the Prophets on the run! Derek and Shadoe are out of the ring and all three men are teaming up on Ike Sampson! SR: There is a god! TD: Look at Sampson go! Lashing out with rights and lefts! He drops Steele! He drops Starr! He drops Chaos! He drops Steele again! He is fighting like a man possessed! SR: What are you idiots doing?! Kill this guy! TD: They've cleared the ring now and Joey Patrick is calling for the bell. [Sampson and Starr are starting off with a lock-up. Ike scoops him up and throws him down with a thunderous powerslam! He picks him back up and slaps on a punishing bearhug.] TD: Ike Sampson is taking the early advantage but Jonathan Chaos runs in and breaks the hold. LFD is double-teaming Sampson and neither of Ike's aprtners are coming in to help! SR: Look at "I Could Really Use A Chemical Peel" Luke Steele! He's leaning on the ringropes looking bored! TD: Steele made it perfectly clear that he has no desire to be in this match and I don't think he really cares who wins! [Patrick finally gets Chaos out of the ring but Starr immediately tags him back in. Before he can get at Ike though, he tags Derek Rage in. They lock up in a test of strength] TD: Which one of these powerhouses has the advantage? Derek has both a height and weight advantage but Chaos is a very strong man. SR: Why don't they both just go beat up Sampson some more? [Derek starts to get the advantage on Chaos but then he kicks him in the midsection before tagging in Shadoe. Shadoe hits him with a flying forearm and follows it with a flying head stomp] TD: The Prophets are taking charge of this match as they make another tag and Derek is back in. They have effectively cut off the ring! SR: Look who's coming! Things are about to get interesting! [Timothy N. Turner and Duncan Macbeth, both in their wrestling attire are sprinting down the aisle. Meanwhile, the Prophets continue their quick tags, punishing Jonathan Chaos.] TD: We've got two things going on at the same time! Ike Sampson is getting annoyed that the Prophets won't tag him in while the captains of the two teams at Midsummer Madness are on the outside! SR: These two already eliminated Ryan Howard, maybe they want to add to the list! [TNT and Macbeth hit the ringside area and pull the bored looking Luke Steele from the ring apron and start to beat him severely.] TD: Steele is getting pummeled and his partners don't seem to care! SR: Look at those two go! [As Joey Patrick heads over to the commotion outside the ring, all hell breaks loose inside the ring as well. Sampson shoves Derek in anger about his exclusion and runs into the ring, right into LFD. The Prophets just watch as Starr and Chaos beat up the valiantly fighting Ike Sampson.] TD: Steele is getting beat up on the outside! Sampson is getting beat up on the inside! Joey Patrick has lost all control! Sampson has just been sent through the ropes by Reggie Starr, right at the feet of Turner and Macbeth! SR: They are ignoring Steele now and unloading on Sampson! TD: The Prophets and LFD are fighting it out in the ring. Steele is only now getting to his feet and Turner has that metal bar! The same one that injured Ryan Howard! Turner and Macbeth are destroying Ike Sampson! SR: They're Howardizing him! [The fight in the ring spills out onto the floor and Turner and Macbeth leave the bloody Sampson lying and start in on everybody in reach.] TD: Turner and Macbeth have gone crazy! They are swinging that bar at everybody! The Prophets and LFD seem to be uniting against the assault of these two individuals! SR: These guys aren't crazy enough to fight all four of these guys! They're out of here! Way to go, Timmy! Way to go, Macbean! Way to beat the crap out of Sampson! [TNT and Macbeth run down the aisle with the Prophets and LFD following behind. Only Steele and Sampson are left at ringside.] TD: Joey Patrick is putting on the count but Steele is back on his feet! He's rolling Sampson into the ring and Patrick has stopped counting! These weren't the legal men but Patrick is letting it continue! SR: Not for long! Sampson can't even stand up! [Steele hoists Sampson into a Powerbomb position and turns it into a Spinebuster.] TD: That's the Revenge Driver, Luke Steele's new move! That has to be the end of Ike Sampson! SR: We can only hope! [Patrick counts... 1 - 2 - 3! Ding! Ding! Ding!] SL: The winners of the match, the team of Luke Steele and Licensed for Devastation! TD: Luke Steele is heading off with his hands in the air. How can he consider this a fair victory! Sampson was beaten severely be Turner's metal bar! [Officials rush down to ringside, but too late. The Rages, LFD, Turner, and Macbeth have all left the area. Only Luke Steele remains, leaving the ring and heading up the aisle with his arms raised, yanking away from angry fans who try to touch him. Meanwhile, in the ring, two officials help the bruised and battered Ike Sampson to his feet -- and he receives a huge ovation from the crowd!] TD: Ike Sampson is standing! SR: He got pulverised, Dross. Totally pulverised. TD: I defy anybody to stand up to an assault from a metal bar, Steve Roberts. Action must be taken against Timothy N. Turner and Duncan Macbeth -- scenes like this have no place in professional wrestling. SR: What the hell are you talking about, Dross? Scenes like this are what get the morons tuning in week in and week out. Blood, brutality and biscuits -- the three essential ingredients in this fine sport. Ain't that right, morons? [The drunken cheers of the "L'il Soundbiters" are heard in the background as Sampson is helped from the ring and up the aisle to the strains of his theme music, "Kiss" by Prince. Cut back to the broadcast table at ringside.] TD: Good grief. What fortitude shown here tonight by Ike Sampson, folks -- but what are we going to see from Turner and Macbeth in just a few moments when they step back into the ring against Tony Starks, who will be partnered by a mystery man? SR: Get your VCRs at the ready, people -- Timmy Turner is about to give us his third masterclass in incapacitation. TD: What we have coming up here is expected to be one heck of a match,     and we don't even know who all the participants are! Tim Turner and     Duncan Macbeth will face Tony Starks and a mystery partner. Now, this match was originally to feature Ryan Howard as a preview to that huge Midsummer Madness elimination match, where Turner, Howard, Luke Steele and Licensed for Devestation were to meet Starks, Macbeth, Ike Sampson and the Prophets of Rage, but a serious knee injury to Howard has forced the front office to scramble. This mystery partner is the result of that scrambling. SR: Order now, beat the rush, accept no imitations, only $14.95, yadda     yadda yadda. TD: Uh, Steve, Midsummer Madness costs $29.95. SR: Damn, that's worse then a Tyson fight! It'll be worth the bloated     price, thought, to see the Culture Club brought to a swift demise. TD: Ahem. To change the subject, speculation was rife that Joe Petrow     would pick this match to referee, seeing as the mystery partner fits     with Petrow's modus operandi, but I guess you can't trust backstage     rumors as Dave D'Amato is on his way to officiate this contest. SR: Whenever you think you've got the answers about Crazy Joe, he changes the flash cards. TD: Huh? ________ ______ | || |\ \ /\ / /| __|.................................................. | || | \ v v / | __| Tony Starks & MYSTERY PARTNER vs. |_||_| \_/\_/ |_| Timothy N. Turner & Duncan Macbeth ....................................................................... WRITER: JdW [Sparkplug Lee is in the midst of totally missing his cue as a rather drunk lady (sic) in the nosebleed seats begins to try and take off her bra. Hell, half the arena just missed their cue, so don't give Sparky a hard time. Finally he tears himself away from the "cups of plenty", as it were, and returns somewhat reluctantly to duty.] SL: Ladies and gentlemen, the following tag team contest is scheduled for one fall! Introducing first, two-thirds of what is arguably one of the breast... er, best six man tag teams in the world of e-wrestling, at a combined weight of exactly 500 pounds, Duncan Macbeth and Timothy N. Turner!   [The international tandem walk into the scene to Tony Bennett's "The Good Life", seemingly prepared to live such a life as they don't seem worried about the mystery partner too much. The always brash Turner is hamming it up even more than usual, if that's possible, flexing every muscle he has, doing every conceivable version of the Fargo strut, and trying to impress every young lady he could find in the first few rows. Macbeth, meanwhile, has a look of pure focus on his face, which is helped by the leather bomber jacket and kilt he sports. Well, maybe not so much the kilt, but what the hell, I mean the guy is Scottish.] SL: And their opponent... SR: [over headset] You hear that? Sparky used the singular, there is no     mystery partner! SL: Hailing from Staten Island, New York, at a weight of 269 pounds, he     is Tony Starks! [Starks, despite being outnumbered, shows no fear as he enters the aisle to a mixed round of support. "C.R.E.A.M", which may or may not be a favourite of Becky LaRue, booms out of the sound system as Starks strides towards the ring, a white towel wrapped around his head in bandana style, almost. Macbeth warily eyes the IIWF vet, but Turner is waggling his fingers at him in the universal gesture for "Ooh, I'm scared!". Neither man changes Starks' facial expression as he enters the ring. Ding! Ding! Ding!] TD: We are underway, and this does indeed seem to be a handicap match, at least for now. For whatever reason, the mystery partner has not yet decided to show. SR: Maybe it's J.P. Steele, I hear he'd love to get back in the Double Eye. Third time's the charm, "I didn't wanna job to the Real Deal" J.P. Steele. TD: On a more serious note, it may be Otto Verhoeven. The Butcher has had his troubles with both Starks and Macbeth in the past, and this would be a great setup for a bit of revenge. [Macbeth decides to start off against the outmanned Starks, and both men are somewhat wary as they advance to the middle of the ring for a lockup. Starks makes the first move, putting both hands up for a "test of strength", but Macbeth instead feints high and drops down in front of Starks, catching him off guard with an amateur fireman's carry. Duncan latches onto an armlock as Starks is going down, but the versatile Starks already has the gears turning on finding a way out. Eventually, Starks rocks his legs back and uses the momentum to kip up to his feet. Macbeth still has the armbar on, but a hiptoss soon rectifies that. Macbeth takes off, scrambling back to his corner to make a tag.] TD: In the early goings, Starks has done what he'll have to do, and     that's keep this a technical encounter and stay away from opponent's     corner. SR: First of all, what the hell is an early going? Secondly, Starks is a     "brutha", right? What if that has an effect on who the partner is? TD: Well, I... SR: [interrupting] Damn, I wish we had that Creed clip cued up! [TNT hops into the ring confidently and charges right at Starks, only to recieve a boot to the face in return. Starks knows that he needs to capitalize right away in this match, so he sends Turner to the ropes and runs off another side himself. This is thwarted, however, as Macbeth gets a foot up high enough that Starks' head is lined up perfectly for... THWACK! Starks goes down hard after the collision, which D'Amato missed somehow, but he keeps struggling to get back to his feet. As soon as he does, Turner is there to flatten him again with a spin kick.] SR: It may be two-on-one, but you know what I always say... make 'em     scream from a double-team! That should apply to wrestling too... TD: No comment. [Turner makes a quick tag while holding Starks in such a position that his ribs are vulnerable. Macbeth knows exactly what to do, lambasting the area with fists, hoping to cause an injury or at least slow him down. The two, seemingly communicating by telepathy, let go at the same time and whip Starks to the ropes, setting up and hitting a double dropkick. Turner turns to leave the ring, the offical count at 4, while Macbeth continues the barrage with a legdrop across the Staten Islander's throat. He picks Tony back up to his feet, and Starks tries to show a spark of offense with a hard fist to the face. Macbeth reels back, and Starks moves into the drivers seat, chopping the Scot hard across the throat. He then sends him careening towards the ropes, and sets up for a backdrop. Macbeth has seen it coming, and leapfrogs Starks, reaching his hands out already for the opposite ropes to slow his momentum. Starks turns around to face Macbeth, and therefore misses the fact that Turner is on his way to the top turnbuckle. The crowd's screaming of "Look out, Tony!" seems to go unnoticed by Starks until finally he turns around just in time to catch a flying dropkick to the jaw.] SR: Look at the teamwork! What a blind tag by TNT and MacBean! TD: This is really bad news for Tony Starks. No one man, and I don't care who you are, can beat a tandem with the calibre and experience of Macbeth and Turner. [Turner moves in to cover the downed Starks, getting... 1...2... no! Starks shows resilence as he struggles to push his shoulder up, so Turner rewards him with a stiff shot to the face. The arrogant Victorian turns to strut in celebration of his team's dominance so far, while Starks struggles to try and get his legs back under him. Turner, after having basked in enough crowd "adulation" for now, turns back and is shocked to see Starks vertical. He swings a clumsy blow towards the Age of Rager, but Starks ducks and swings Turner into a full nelson, then pulling back with a...] TD: Dragon suplex! What a move, and that might end the match! One, two,     thr... no! Macbeth illegally places Turner's foot on the ropes. Dave     D'Amato saw that, he should really step in and enforce the rules. SR: Who cares how Turner kicked out? It only matters that he did. Also,     I'm really glad you've stopped saying "One, two, he got him! No, he     didn't." [Starks gets up to protest to D'Amato about the outside help, and he seems to be forgetting about his problem inside the ring. Turner decides to make him pay for that, spinning the New Yorker around and cradling one leg. Starks is tired, and therefore a bit slow looking for a counter as Turner nails him with a fisherman suplex.] TD: That move was... SR: Dare he say it? TD: ...perfect. Starks is covered for... only a near fall! Somehow he's     still kicking out, but he could really use that mystery partner now. SR: Speak of the devil, Dross. [A man, presumably the mystery partner, is in the process of walking down the aisle, wearing a long grey trench coat and a very wide-brimmed grey fedora pulled down low. His identity is almost completely obscured, which doesn't stop the crowd from going insane as he walks down the aisle. Dave D'Amato eyes him as he makes his way to the corner, hoping up to take his post as Starks' partner. D'Amato looks a bit concerned with the whole thing, but accepts him into the match anyway. Meanwhile, Starks is still getting pounded into oblivion, as Turner had hoisted him into the air with a power bomb while this whole mystery partner thing was going on, but instead of dropping him he waited for Macbeth to head to the top rope, and drop a leg as Turner finally brought him down.] TD: What a double team manouver! I'm not sure if Turner made the tag or     not, but D'Amato didn't see it so he's treating Turner as the legal man. SR: Who is this mystery partner guy with the terrible fashion sense? You     can barely even tell his build under that suit. TD: I'm just hazarding a wild guess here, but he does have a slight     physical resemblance to Lord Byron. SR: Dross, what cologne are you using? The stuff stinks to high heaven. TD: I'm not wearing any cologne, Steve Roberts. [Starks gets covered again by TNT, and again it looks like a forgone conclusion... but again, he gets a shoulder up just in the nick of time. A frustrated Turner hauls Starks roughly to his feet, and sends him harshly into a neutral corner, charging in afterwards. Starks is too out of it to counter, and Turner is able to hit a diving shoulderblock. Turner follows right up, sending Starks to the ropes and going off the other set himself. The two meet in the middle of the ring, but Turner's plans backfire as both are hit with a double clothesline!] SR: Make a tag! TD: That applies to both men, really, but moreso Starks who needs to get     to that mystery partner. What isn't a mystery is the quality of     Midsummer Madness. We're putting out an incredible card and you won't want to miss it this coming Saturday, only on pay-per-view! Order now! SR: How do you look youself in the mirror? TD: The hundred dollar bonus for hawking the PPV helps. SR: Midsummer Madness! Order now! What a card! You can spend time with     your wife anyday, watch the IIWF! [Starks starts dragging himself over to his corner, while Turner is still shaking the cobwebs out. However, Starks is moving very slowly, so Turner once he starts after him is gradually gaining. The mystery partner reaches forward as far as he can, Starks desperately lunges in that direction while Turner lunges to stop him, and... the tag is made! Huge pop! The Mystery Partner steps in, and tosses aside his hat, the coat soon to follow. The cheers just get even louder and the fans insaner as the partner is revealed.] TD: It's... it's the Subway Psycho! SR: NO WAY! HE'S BACK! TD: The Subway Psycho has returned! I don't believe this! [Apparently neither did Turner, who stared in disbelief until the Psycho started to advance on him, at which he cowardly dropped to his knees and started to beg for mercy. The Psycho isn't in a merciful mood, though, so he just blasts Turner right between the eyes with a thrust kick. Macbeth runs in for a save, but the Psycho is fully prepared as he drops him with a right hand. Turner is back up now, but the Psycho slams him to get him back down, then runs over to mow down a rising Macbeth with a clothesline,knocking him out of the ring. The Psycho then started up the turnbuckles as Turner slowly rises, with his back to his opponent.] TD: The Psycho is looking to finish this off as the fans are just going     insane... but wait, here come Licensed for Devastation! They're headed straight for the ring! SR: The Prophets! The Prophets cut them off in the aisle! TD: We have a brawl on the oustide, we have a Train Wreck on the inside!     During all this, the Psycho still manages his finisher! Jumping bulldog, here's the cover: one... two... three! Psycho wins it! SR: Steele and Sampson are at the top of the ramp. "Squeaky Wheel" and Ike are brawling right at the top of the ramp! [Indeed, Luke and Ike are trading right hands at the top of the  entranceway in what amounts to a war of attrition, with neither man having much effect in weakening his opponent next week. Meanwhile, Reggie Starr is being pummeled by both Prophets of Rage, who are both kicking at the prone tag specialist, while stablemate Tony Starks run over to occupy Jon Chaos. Chaos takes an advantage over the tired Starks as he rings his head off the steel railing, but then Macbeth pulls Turner out of the ring, and they decide to attack both men while they're preoccupied. The JJS is storming out from every direction, along with house security, and they've already managed to tie up Steele and Sampson behind a mass of bodies.] TD: This brawl, this series of brawls is breaking down just as fast as t     started, and the Subway Psycho, after a shocking return, is just     watching it all unfold. SR: You just know, watching about 10 jobbers and two dozen rent-a-fuzz     pouring out here, that this beautiful brawl isn't gonna last long. [Indeed, it was waining. Steele and Sampson were already being carted out of sight by most of the JJS, which is what it took to hold them back. Meanwhile, about a dozen security guards descend on the Prophets of Ragem pulling them forcably away from Starr. Ned Norton and Jumpin' Jack move in to help Starr walk back up the aisle, while the rest of the security separate the TNT/Macbeth tandem from Starks and Chaos.] TD: This chaos, no pun intended, is petering out... SR: I petered out once. Best weekend of my life. TD: ...but the Subway Psycho is still in that ring as this mass of     humanity is cleared away, and it looks like he wants to speak. SR: Damn, we're gonna let him too. [To techie] Don't give him a mic! No! [The fans chant "Psycho! Psycho!" as the subway dweller walks the perimeter of the ring, nodding his head, pushing his stringy black hair out of his eyes.  Finally, with security forcing the last warring athletes back into the locker room area, the Psycho raises the microphone to his mouth:] SP: In case any of you haven't noticed, I haven't been around for quite     some time now.  You see, over three months ago I had my jaw broken.     It was by that group... what do you call them... [He pretends to try     to recall the name, tapping his temple]... ah, it's on the tip of my     tongue... a lot of people seem to be talking about them these days.     What the hell do you call them...? [He hears the audience begin to call out the name "Genesis"]     ...Genesis!  That's it!     [Sarcastically] Good job guys, good job. [Claps his hands a few     times in false applause]     Genesis did what no one else has been able to do... put me out of     action... put me in the hospital for three weeks! [He begins pacing, his speech growing increasingly louder and with more anger creeping into his voice.]     Requiem... for six weeks I drank my food through a straw because of     you and your men!  I had my mouth wired shut so my jaw could mend!     And what went through my head that whole time?  What profound     realization did I achieve during my time on the shelf?  THAT I LIKED     PAIN!  Not just the pain of the injuries that kept me out of     action... but I missed the pain of the fight... the pain of battle.     I learned that I missed the taste of blood.  When you get kicked in     the teeth and your own blood begins to flow from your lip into your     mouth... I MISSED THAT TASTE!  I crave it... and I would not have     realized that if it your not for Genesis.  So I say again, good     [bleep]in' job!     So there I was last week, during a layover in my tour of Japan...     I've been preparing to come back for over a month in foreign     circuits under another name... I turned on the TV to my old stomping     grounds, the IIWF.  And you know what?  What I saw made me want to     puke!  Here comes Danny Boy Kauffman, with his new friends Tiger     Claw, Casey James, Deathbringer, and Verhoeven, talking about     respect and honor and whatever the hell else was spewing from that     big mouth of his.  Kauffman, I guess you went back home after your     retirement and saw the perfect little bubble you built for yourself     here in IIWF burst and all apparent hell breaking loose.  "The IIWF     needs me," you say to yourself.  So here you come like some white     knight riding in to save everybody.     Guess what, Dan?  The IIWF doesn't need you... the arenas are packed     and the fans are getting what they want.  Admit it... you need the     IIWF.  You missed being a big fish in a big pond.  There's nothing     wrong with that... I missed that very same thing... but don't come     out here and try to insult the intelligence of these good people,     paying their hard earned money to see people crack each others'     heads open, by telling them that you're here to set things straight.  You're here for the spotlight.  You can't stand the thought that entire IIWF broadcasts come and go and nobody mentions your name.  You say you're here to make people respect each other and the sport.  Respect... look at who you've aligned yourself with? Tiger Claw and Casey James?  What have they ever shown respect for? My, how the mighty have fallen.  You two guys are jealous because someone is finally playing your game better than you.  No one fears the Syndicate any more.  You're both pathetic and are trying anything to get back on top.  Do you guys actually think you can trust each other long enough to accomplish anything?  Does anyone believe that?  Do yourselves a favor and stop pretending that you'll be able to move forward together without turning around to see if there's a knife in your back.     But the word of the night last week was "respect."  What does the     Subway Psycho respect? Dan Kauffman... no.  Tiger Claw... no.  Casey     James, Deathbringer, Verhoeven... no.  Genesis?  Hmmm.... no... no,      none of them either.  IIWF as a whole?  Hmmm... no, not really.  The     fans of the IIWF? [Hesitates to build crowd anticipation.]     Yes. [Huge crowd pop!]     Yeah, you people who come out here week after week I respect...     don't ever doubt that.  You all have never let me down and don't     think for a minute that I won't come out here each and every night     and give it my all for you.  Do I respect the IIWF title... Yes.     Not that man who wears it right now... but that strap of gold holds     a special place in my heart.  The ONLY wrestler I respect is ME.     Now people might say that's egotistical... I don't.  In this sport a     moment of hesitation could end your career.  Respect clouds judgement. If I respect my opponent, I may hesitate in taking him     out when he's vulnerable, and I'm not going to leave myself open to     that.     Yeah, so the Subway Psycho doesn't give a [BLEEP] about too much     right now.  Myself, the title, and the fans.  I'm not here to make     friends.  I'm not here to sell T-shirts.  I'm here to cause some     damage... to piss people off and to take them out.  To recapture the     IIWF World Heavyweight Title.  I just don't care how I do it any     more.  My whole body is a tool... a means to an end.  Animals caught     in traps have been known to chew their own legs off.  When a bee     stings, he kills himself.  If I have to separate a shoulder or     suffer a concussion to take my opponent out, I'll do it... without     hesitation.  Whatever it takes.  A word of warning... from now on     when I come out: put the women and children to bed.  They won't be     able to handle what I'm going be like in the ring... the spilt     blood, the broken bones, the dashed dreams.  A new era in IIWF is      upon us... it starts now... it starts with me.     So as I leave you tonight I'd like to wrap it up with this: I don't     care about all this Old Gen/New Gen crap.  The logistics of it are     not important to me.  But Requiem... you've held that title a long     time due to your gang tactics.  You've become the "immovable     object"... we shall find the answer to that age old question when     you and I, the "irresistible force," meet again.  And to all the     other wrestlers back there... I'm going to leave an open contract     hanging in the locker room.  I'll even leave a pen so you have no     excuse not to sign it. [The Psycho throws down the microphone as "Crazy Train" by Ozzy Osbourne kicks in over the PA.  He climbs down from the ring and makes a circuit of the ringside area, slapping the hands of as many fans as he can before heading up the aisle, zig-zagging from one barrier to the other, greeting the fans who have welcomed him back after his three month absence.] TD: The Psycho is back, and he isn't interested in a quiet tenure the     second time around. What did you think of his comments, Steve? SR: I'll reserve comment for an interview I can stay awake through. TD: I dare you to say that to the Psycho's face. SR: Of course I wouldn't do that. Then I'd have to smell his breath! TD: Well, regardless of that allegation, something that doesn't stink is     this next matchup -- it's our final chance to see Simon Lebec in action before Midsummer Madness. He's going to have his hands full when he takes on one of the hottest young prospects to hit the IIWF in many months; Dexter St. Croix. SR: Should make a welcome change to see a "Culture Clash" rather than a "Culture Club." TD: A bit weak for you, Steve? You're on the money, though: Dexter and Simon couldn't be more different, both in their background and upbringing. Dexter is more than capable of getting a win here also, especially if Lebec is concentrating on _next_ Saturday, rather than _this_ Saturday. SR: Lebec will be lucky if he can see two feet in front of him, never mind concentrate on a week's time. The man drinks like a fish Dross, maybe we should push for a "three bottles of Jack Daniels" match between Lebec and Dirt Dog. Like a Ladder match, but each of them can't drink any alcohol for a full week prior to the match and we hang three bottles of the finest above the ring. TD: It would be a blood bath, Steve Roberts! SR: Yeah, that as well! You hearing this, Dictator Danny? We want a "three bottles of Jack Daniels" match! The Sychopaths want it, the fans will love it, "Jack Daniels" could do with some free advertising, let's go for it, Danny boy, let's go for it! TD: With that thought, let's go backstage with Simon Lebec, preparing for his match with Dexter St. Croix.  Simon, are you ready? [Cut to a split screen: on the left, "the Showstopper" Simon Lebec, in his wrestling attire in the locker room; and on the right, the shot of the broadcast table in the arena.] SL: I'm ready, willing, and able, Timmy!  Midsummer Madness... triangle heaven!  One title... one champion... and they call him "The Showstopper"!  I can't think of a better way to go into the Madness than by teaching this rookie what it's like to tumble over the mountain of success, and into the pit of despair!  Dexter St. Croix, you earned your wings by getting to the mountain, but tonight, you're gonna get 'em clipped just like so many others before you!  Take it as a learning lesson, my child!  Least you can tell the grandkids one day... "I got beaten up by the sexiest man in wrestling"! TD: Simon, any worries that the Dirt Dog may be looking for revenge after you cost him the Cruiserweight title last week? SL: Allah cost himself the title.  I'm the only man who can win while drunk!  If he wants revenge, he can find me at the Madness.  If he pops up tonight, we can settle it then.  The parking lot... sure!  My hotel room... what the Hell!  Allah, just don't steal the complementary robe! I'm in the zone, and that's bad news for St. Croix, Mota, and the Doggie! [Cut to the ring.] ________ ______ | || |\ \ /\ / /| __|.................................................. | || | \ v v / | __| "Showstopper" Simon Lebec vs. Dexter St. Croix |_||_| \_/\_/ |_|.................................................... WRITER: MB [Lee, already in the ring, takes a deep breath and begins:] RA: Ladies and gentlemen. Our fourth match of the evening is scheduled for one fall. Introducing first, hailing from Hollywood, California; and weighing 239 pounds.. "The Showstopper" Simon Lebec! [Lebec's theme music breaks over the speakers as the curtains at the top of the aisle part to reveal the stunningly attractive Lebec who, with a broad smile, walks down the aisle, throwing winks and blowing kisses at the ladies in attendance. Both cheers and booes competed to drown out the music as he climbs into the ring, the cheers primarily from the ladies, the booes primarily from the men.] RA: And his opponent, hailing from Kingston, Jamaica; and weighing 220 pounds... Dexter St. Croix! [The crowd erupts into a chorus of cheers as "Exodus" by Bob Marley and the Wailers hit the speakers and out walks Dexter St. Croix, curiously, without his posse. Slapping hands en route to the ring, Dexter looks extremely relaxed and confident as he too climbs into the ring, shedding his green vest. Earl Alfonso checks them both for weapons, finding none, he waits for a moment to allow Lee to leave the ring and signals for the bell.] TD: Well, this match is underway and neither man looks ready to go. [The two combatants circle each other for a few seconds, looking for an opening, before Lebec loses his patience and launches at Dexter with a well placed Dropkick which staggers the Rastafarian back into the ropes. Jumping back to his feet in a flash, Lebec moves in with a couple of closed fists which rock Dex against the ropes followed by a sharp kick to the midsection and a snap-fast piledriver, leaving Dex flat on his back, seeing stars. Heel Pop!] TD: You got to give it to Lebec, when he does get going, it's like watching poetry in motion. SR: C'mon Dross, enough with the clichés already. This isn't a literary club, it's wrestling... TD: Er... no actually. Whoa! We have company already! [The curtains part and out walks Scott Rogers to a huge heel pop! With the usual cocky grin on his face, he takes up a position in the aisleway to watch the match.] SR: That's exactly what I meant Dross, sometimes it's wrestling, sometimes it isn't. [Lebec picks St. Croix up, slips behind and with a good show of strength, lifts him up and over in an impressive German Suplex! Earl drops to the mat for the pin -- 1 -- 2 Kick out! Pop! Lebec notices the crowd reaction a few moments ago and stops to look around the arena briefly, catching a glimpse of Rogers in the aisle. Rogers smiles and waves in a friendly manner, to the dislike of both Lebec and the crowd, the latter raising the volume of the boos! Lebec wipes the blonde locks from his face and turns back, only to be caught around the waist by Dexter, then lifted and driven into the mat with a great Belly To Belly Suplex! Pop! The curtains at the top of the aisle part once again..] SR: What is this? The New York Underground? First cross-dressers like Rogers, and now the living proof that all tag teams are made up of a tough guy and a gay guy, The Machines. TD: They must be here to scout their partner at Midsummer Madness, Dexter St. Croix, but by the looks of it, Rogers and O'Neal don't seem to like each other's presence much -- they're throwing insults at each other already! [Dex has seemingly forgotten the earlier pain, pulls Lebec up from the mat and whips him to the ropes, and on the rebound, catches him and drops back near the ropes, destroying Lebec with an amazing stun gun! Big pop! In the aisle, the Rogers/O'Neal argument is slowly deteriorating to the point where Rogers pushes O'Neal, Simon replying with a punch which is blocked by his own tag partner Paul Wong, shouting for him to "calm down"! Rogers begins to laugh out loud, dancing behind Wong and slapping Simon around the head to infuriate him. In the ring, Dexter lays across the gasping Lebec for a pin -- 1 -- 2 - Kickout! The Jamaican pulls Lebec back up to his feet, then hits a powerful backbreaker, bending him in two across his knee until Lebec manages to get a thumb in his eye to break the hold, and earn him a berating from Alfonso and a Heel Pop from the crowd! Outside the ring, Paul is having serious trouble keeping Rogers and O'Neal apart, Rogers' laughing driving O'Neal into a frenzy before the JJS scramble out into the aisleway to separate the two factions.] TD: Well, if they came to scout their partner, they didn't get much of a look, did they? SR: [laughing] Tough one gets into trouble, hay one holds him back! Classic, Dross, absolute classic! [Dexter stomps away at Lebec's back, until Simon wisely slides under the bottom rope to safety and the utter glee of the crowd in attendance! Earl begins a count almost immediately, holding Dexter back from following him out, while the Californian holds his back with a wince written across his face. Earl's count reaches eight before Simon jumps back to the apron, still holding his back slightly, and steps through the ropes. Dex runs straight in for a lock-up, but Lebec steps to the side, lifting a knee into his midsection, driving the wind out of the Jamaican with a whoosh, then a Back Suplex with authority, leaves him writhing on the mat. Simon jumps to his feet, and bows deeply to the crowd, earning himself a great heel pop! He turns and bends over, displaying the picture of himself painted across his behind to the crowd who increase the volume significantly!] TD: Not more company! [A short man in a white uniform enters ringside carrying a six pack of beer! He calls to Simon Lebec and hands him the six pack, along with a handwritten message, which Lebec reads, screws up, and then throws towards the broadcast table, where it is caught by Steve Roberts.] SR: Let's see -- what does this say? "Let's beat that bitch Mota like the g-string wannabe he be... er... muhfuh!". TD: Sounds like the work of the Dirt Dog Unique Allah, Steve. SR: No kidding, Sherlock. [Simon looks down at the six bottles then back at the rising Dexter, and decides to level the Jamaican with a knee-lift, before turning back to the bottles and opening one. The Courier leaves the ringside area after returning the mic as Simon takes a drink from the opened bottle... Then spits it out onto the mat shouting; "What is this crap?! This tastes like piss!" He throws the bottle to ringside, then turns to Dexter and takes out his aggression on him with a heavy barrage of punches and kicks.] SR: Hey Dross! Look at that bottle, there's no foam there... that ain't beer, it _is_ piss! TD: Oh my! [Lebec hears the two announcers laughing, seems to put all he pieces together and starts to gag in the middle of the ring, kicking the remaining five bottles from the ring and spitting to get the taste from his mouth. It slowly dawns on the crowd what has transpired, and they too begin to laugh, en masse. Lebec is furious and starts to stamp about, slapping the ropes and shouting "Shut Up!" to Dross and Roberts and the crowd in general. Dexter slowly gets back to his feet and is totally confused as to what is going on, but uses the distraction to sneak up behind Lebec and hit a nasty swinging neckbreaker! Pop!] SR: Talk about adding injury to insult, Dross! TD: It certainly is. I just wonder whether DDUA really sent them. Speaking of the Dirt Dog, here he is! [For the fourth time during this match the curtains part and out walks the ex-cruiserweight champion. With a glassy-eyed expression, he stumbles down the aisle to take up position at ringside. Allah sees Roberts wipe away a tear and give him a thumbs-up, pointing at the five bottles of discarded beer, then with a nod of gratitude, he walks over and picks a bottle up! The crowd around the fallen bottles try desperately to hold in the laughs, with little real success, as the Dog takes the top off one and has a quick sniff of the contents. Meanwhile, in the ring, Dexter lifts the hurting Lebec up to his feet and bodyslams him down hard before heading for the top rope and hitting an impressive legdrop!] SR: No! Dirt Dog, Don't do it! Don't drink it! [Dirt Dog takes another sniff before noticing the discarded open bottle and thinking better of it, he re-seals the bottle and watches the match.] SR: That was close. So it can't have been Dirt Dog that sent them down after all... That means it must have been... TD: [interrupting] Speak of the devil, here he comes! The self-styled "heatseeker" and new Cruiserweight Champion, Derek Mota! We now have all three contestants of the Midsummer Madness Triple Threat match here together! You have to believe with tensions as high as they are, this match is going to degenerate pretty quickly. [Derek Mota appears at the top of the aisle to a huge pop from the crowd. DDUA and Dexter both turn to see who has entered, DDUA looking longingly at the belt around his waist and Dexter shrugging his shoulders and getting back to the match at hand.] TD: I think this Triple Threat match could steal the show at Midsummer Madness, Steve. The skill and flair of the three best Cruiserweights in the game today, all battling in one ring with the belt going to the winner of the first fall! It's one I'm looking forward to. SR: Two drunks and a cripple, just think if they made it a "three bottles of Jack..." TD: [interrupting] Ouch! That's got to hurt! [As Derek walks slowly down to ringside, Dexter once again climbs the turnbuckle, waiting at the top until Lebec gets back to his shaky feet, then launching off with a tremendous flying clothesline... which misses its target as Lebec ducks at the last moment, leaving the man from Kingston to crash to the mat horribly! Heel Pop!] TD: Derek and Dirt Dog are staring holes through each other! This is going to turn ugly, I tell you! SR: Couldn't get any uglier than Dexter. Except for Sebastian Jericho, of course. [Lebec, having not seen the arrival of his two future opponents, pulls the injured Dexter back to his feet and hits him with a Jawbreaker and a fist drop, before pulling him up and whipping him to the ropes...] TD: Oh my! Mota pulls the top rope down! He's hit his back on the ring apron and he looks hurt! [The ref begins a count as Lebec looks down to the prone figure of Dexter St. Croix, then over to Mota, down to DDUA then back to Dexter, a look of pure incredulity passes over his face. Lebec shouts at Mota; "I didn't need your help to beat that punk!", but Mota just flips him the bird and laughs, replying "Just returning the favour" tapping at the belt around his waist. Pop! Earl Alfonsa reaches a count of ten and signals for the bell as Lebec steps through the ropes and drops to ringside and begins a pushing match with Mota. RA: Your winner in this match as a result of a countout... Simon Lebec! TD: We may be about to see that Triple Threat match one week early! [Dirt Dog, not wanting to be ignored, climbs to the top buckle and waits for the first punch to be thrown then dives off the top buckle with an insane moonsault to ringside, crashing into his two opponents with an almighty thump! Huge Pop!] SR: My man Dirt Dog! Amazing! [The three cruiserweights slowly get to their feet and begin swapping punches, Lebec stripping the belt from Mota's waist and trying to run off with it, only to be brought to his knees with a tackle by Mota. Dirt Dog connects with a nasty kick to Mota's back, knocking him half-way up the aisle, while Lebec gets to his feet an knocks Dirt Dog all the way through the curtain with a shot from the belt! Pop! Mota drives his head into the midsection of Lebec and whips him into and then through the curtain and charges through himself.] TD: You have to feel a little sorry for Dexter here, Steve. SR: Why, Dross? TD: I think it should be pretty obvious. Apparently, the fight is still raging backstage, but we've got to cut to some messages from our sponsors. We'll be right back. [Cut to the backstage area. Mota and Dirt Dog are having a tug-of-war with the Cruiserweight belt, when Lebec charges through the middle of them with a debilitating double-clothesline, tripping over a cable and colliding into a corridor wall with a sickening thud! Fade.] +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= I * I * W * F =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-+ | President: Daniel Spreadbury | Vice-President: Jim Jividen | | univ0322@sable.ox.ac.uk | brokeback@webtv.net | | iiwf@sisko.demon.co.uk | | +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- http://www.sisko.demon.co.uk -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=+