[The opening graphics explode onto the screen:] ________ ______ __ ____ ___ __ . _ ___ | || |\ \ /\ / /| __| / /\ | | || \| \ /\ \ / |\ || / \| | | | || | \ v v / | __| \__ /__\ | | ||__/| |/__\ v | \||| __|-| | |_||_| \_/\_/ |_| \ \| v | \|__/ \| | || \_|| | | __________________________/...hour two...\........|...|.......|....| LIVE! IIWF Coliseum, Portland, Oregon August 30 1997 [Fade back up onto an interior shot of the IIWF Coliseum. Another volley of fireworks erupts in the rafters, rockets shooting down the aisle to the entranceway either side of the huge video wall, where more huge pyros explode with deafening bangs, sending clouds of smoke billowing up into the rafters. The shot swings down past row upon row of fans, all waving and shouting at the cameras. Cut to the ring area as the lights rise and the smoke clears. Queen's "We are the Champions" brings the vast majority of the Portland fans back to their feet, but for a different reason then ever before. This time, it's to "boo" and "boo" loudly as Ronnie Paris walks into the aisle, a look of supreme focus on his face. Ronnie is definitely looking a bit different this week, at least in costume as he's wearing plain white trunks with small replicas of the Japanese flag on the outward facing side of each leg. The waistband, which sticks out like that of a boxer's trunks, says "The Best" in embroidered letters on it. Paris walks quickly to the ring, virtually ignoring the outstretched hands and taunts of the crowd. Even a loud "Ronnie Sucks!" chant isn't enough to perturb him as he rolls into the ring. The techies are ready to hand him a mic as soon as he's ready, but Paris is pacing a bit, waiting for the crowd noise to die down. Finally, after a few tense moments, he begins.] RP: Before I get into anything else, let me just say this... I come from     a long line of family men, and my parents always taught me about the     importance of marriage. I love my wife very much, which means I want our relationship to be monogamous. That's been impossible, though, because the IIWF has been screwing me for months! [Huge heel pop for the Texan, who just stares derisively at the fans before continuing.] RP: Let me tell you a little story, folks. True life story. This is     about a guy, let's call him Ronnie, who was a huge wrestling star in     Japan. Had an incredible future ahead of him, so he decided to come home to the States and try his luck in a certain overrated federation called, let's say the IIWF. Now this international superstar figures that, considering he has more wrestling talent in his pinky finger then most of the IIWF roster could ever _dream_ of having, he figures that this time he won't need some bullshit gimmick to go far. He figures he'll be wrestling the other great wrestlers in the federation, the Lord Byrons and Chris Quigleys and Hakiro Matsuokos, and putting on incredible displays. But what happens to him? He gets stuck being pals with losers like "Listen to me Squeal" Luke Steele and Chief Little Push! Do you think it'd be my idea to associate with no-talent bums and over-gimmicked Injuns if I had my druthers? Hell no! [The fans, especially the Luke Steele/Phoenix fans, begin letting Paris have it with boos, negative signs, and the ever present "Ronnie Sucks!" chant. Paris starts to fume listening to this, and yanks the mic mere millimeters from his face.] RP: Ronnie sucks, eh? If I really sucked, I'd be the Cruiserweight      champion by now! [Boos even from those that don't get it.] Let me     tell you about yourselves, the IIWF fans, the so-called "Greatest     fans in the World". Bullshit. The IIWF fans are just as dumb as any     other in this country. You wanna see the greatest fans in the world?     Go to Japan. I wrestled in front of them for five years, I should     know. Dross, who's so busy orgasming over the "greatest fans on the     world", he wouldn't know because the inbred hillbilly probably     couldn't find Japan on a map!     When I worked in Japan, the fans didn't care if you were a "good     guy" or a "bad guy", if you had talent they damn well cheered! If     you sucked, you heard about it! Here, though, you have to be a clown     or a dead guy, or pretend you're friggin' William Shakespeare. The     IIWF is a joke, plain and simple. For too long, I've tried to cater     to you joke fans, but now I'm gonna lay it out like it is. The fans     of the IIWF aren't good enough for me! I see maybe a hundred people in this arena who know wrestling, but the rest of you marks are so beneath me it isn't funny! [The crowd is whipped up into a frenzy by now, with even those fans who'd been undecided before baying for Ronnie's blood. One ringside fan yells out "Love it or Leave it, jerk!" Paris hers her, and turns to address the fan.] RP: First of all, aren't you breaking some kind of ugliness law just by     being in public? [Heel pop!] Secondly, don't you think I'm trying to     leave? A good friend of mine is starting a new promotion in Tokyo     called SJW, Superstars of Japanese Wrestling, and he gave me a call     and an offer. A very attractive offer... the equivalent of about     half a million dollars US per year, which is a helluva lot more than the skinflints here pay me! I was promised high billing, if not the top billing, I was promised real competition instead of the muscleheads and lunatics here. Punching a guy 20 times isn't wrestling, and neither is jumping through tables! Finally, I'd get to walk through the locker rooms and not think I was backstage at a circus! So I went to the all-wise and mighty Daniel Spreadbury, and the bastard wouldn't let me out of my contract! He says if I don't wrestle out my IIWF contract, he'll let me rot at home! [Seeing a chance to get under their newest enemies skin, the crowd pops like mad for the show of authority by the president. Paris almost flips out right in the ring, pointing at several vocal fans and screaming at them to "Shut the [BLEEP] up!", but this just makes them louder.] RP: Daniel Spreadbury wants me to wrestle, I'll wrestle his stupid little tag match tonight! I'll wrestle with this joke that pretends he represents his people or the Phoenix, or some bullshit like that.     Just as long as we don't have to do a wardance or anything I'll     wrestle with him, but I won't like it. And I'll wrestle against the     "Cavalier"... what a loser that guy is. With all his chivalry, his     prissy little "thee's" and "thou's", the guy is a dork plan and     simple. He's one of those Renaissance fair groupie dorks, and just     between you and me I think he's a little light in his wrestling     boots too. [Heel pop!] As for Little Willie? Well, you can ask Maggie, I don't know anything about little willies, I've always been the envy of every locker room I was in! But, Willie, you know how I feel about you. Billy Shakespeare is to wrestling what Casino Royale is to Bond movies; a parody. [By now, especially with all the other big stars out earlier in the show, many of the fans are starting to lose their voices in booing Paris, but for the first time in the IIWF he doesn't seem to care about the boos.] RP: I'll prove it this week, I'll prove it next week when we throw Bob     Marley, Felix and Oscar into the mix on my side, I'll prove it every     time I wrestle in front of you ungrateful morons, but I want to     drill it into your head. So, as I leave, I want you to pay close     attention to my new theme music, because it has a message you fans     will learn if I have to beat it into every one of you! Turn on the     music and turn down the lights, because Ronnie Paris has _left_ the     building! [Paris quickly hops over the top rope and lands on his feet in the aisle as his new music, Tina Turner's "Simply the Best", kicks into gear. Paris points to his waist band, where "The Best" is written, and mouths "I am the best!" to an aisleside camera as he walks back up the aisle to thunderous boos. A few aisleside fans are giving Paris the one-fingered salute as he walks past, so Ronnie just returns it to them before swaggering out of sight. Cut to the broadcast table at ringside, at which are seated Tim Dross and "Soundbite" Steve Roberts, who applauds Paris as he leaves.] TD: Welcome back to IIWF Saturday Night, folks, and... Steve Roberts, will you stop that? SR: [concluding his clapping] Just showing my appreciation for a guy who's finally woken up to the fact that the only way to get results around here is to look out for number one and number one only. Welcome to the other side, Ronnie Paris! TD: Certainly there was some bitterness in Ronnie Paris's words here tonight, and you have to wonder how that will affect his match later on tonight, partnering the Phoenix against his enemy Billy Shakespeare, who will be joined by Kevin Christiansen. SR: You know, Dross, tonight's already been quite a night -- we've had the Subway Psycho return, we've had Simon Lebec drinking Derek Mota's urine -- but that's all going to pale into insignificance when Culture Club finally gets what it's got coming: Boy Requiem beaten to a pulp by Mad Dog Watkins, and the rest of the groupies taken apart by Team Old Gen. TD: An incredible double bill of main event marquee matches coming up later this hour, folks, so don't move a muscle -- especially as this next match also promises to be truly explosive. Four of the biggest stars in the world of professional wrestling in the ring together -- let's get straight to the action! ________ ______ | || |\ \ /\ / /| __|.................................................. | || | \ v v / | __| Steve "the Fury" Kowalski & Marty Warnett vs. |_||_| \_/\_/ |_| "Lone Wolf" Brody Thunder & Chris Quigley ....................................................................... WRITER: SK [The camera shot shows a frustrated Sparkplug Lee playing a hand of poker at the timekeeper's table.  The timekeeper, who has an impressive pile of peanuts piled in front of him, leans over and taps Lee on the shoulder, prompting him to start the introductions.  Lee slams the cards on the table, looking quite annoyed, and climbs into the ring.  He pulls a card out of his breast pocket, but instead of the match lineup, he holds the ace of hearts in his hand.  Lee frantically searches through his other pockets as the crowd begins to get impatient, finally pulling the lineup card out of one of his socks.] SL: Ahem... the following match is a tag team contest, and is scheduled for one fall.  Introducing first, at a total combined weight of 506 pounds, from Corner Brook, Newfoundland, Canada, and Tombstone, Arizona respectively,  here are "Quickstrike" Chris Quigley and "Lone Wolf" Brody Thunder! ["For Those About To Rock" by AC/DC kicks in over the P.A., but it is the Lone Wolf who enters first with a look of absolute boredom broadcasting from his face, striding briskly down the aisle.  As the music fades into the theme from "High Plains Drifter", Chris Quigley emerges and trots down the aisle to a good face pop, catching up to Thunder and stopping him halfway down the aisle, apparently wishing to discuss some last minute strategy.  Thunder shoves Quigley away and jabs a finger at him, obviously not in the mood to be told how to wrestle this evening, and turns back towards the ring as Quigley just shakes his head, seemingly thinking, "How did I ever get into a match like this?".  The two maintain their distance between each other as they make their way down the aisle and into the ring.] TD: And right away we see some tension between Quigley and Thunder, Steve. You have to wonder just how effective a team they can be tonight if they obviously can't even agree on strategy. SR: I think the best strategy here would be for Thunder and Kowalski to get rid of their mousse-addled dead-weight partners so the crowd can see a match that actually matters, Dross.     SL: And their opponents, weighing in at a combined 512 pounds, from Cardiff, Wales and Newark, New Jersey respectively, here are Marty Warnett and Steve "The Fury" Kowalski! ["Cold Gin" by Kiss blasts throughout the Coliseum as Marty Warnett enters and struts down the aisle, preening for the audience, who pop in appreciation of the Party Maniac's antics. Not so impressed is one Steve Kowalski, who doesn't even bother to accompany Warnett down the aisle, but waits at the entrance, arms folded, and watches Warnett until he reaches the ring area.  "The Fury" then begins to slowly make his own way to the ring to a loud heel pop as the music fades into "Don't Fear The Reaper", hurling a torrent of insults at Thunder, Quigley, the crowd, and even his partner Warnett the whole way.] TD: Steve Kowalski doesn't seem to be impressed with the circumstances of this match tonight, Steve Roberts. SR: I dunno, Dross.  He looks to me like he's in a pretty good mood, all things considered. [Referee Dave D'Amato tries to send two men to the corners, but is having some trouble as all four men seem to want to be in the ring to start, Thunder and Kowalski engaging in some close-quarters jawing and shoving, and Quigley and Warnett facing off, the Welshman grinding his hips in front of Quigley as the furious Canadian just glares.  Eventually though, the ring is cleared, with only Warnett remaining in the middle.  Thunder begins to step through the ropes to start for his side, but Warnett shouts something at him, shaking his head and pointing to Quigley.  Thunder just shakes his head and shrugs as Quigley leaps over the top rope, the crowd popping at the sight of this new combination, and moves to lock up with Warnett as the bell sounds to start the match.] TD: A tense situation seems to have passed without incident here, Steve, and now we have Quigley and Warnett in the ring, a "preview," if you will, of their upcoming grudge match at Midsummer Madness. SR: Great.  We get to see the same watching-the-paint-dry, rest-hold infested insomnia cure two weeks in a row.  Where's Tim Turner and his steel rod when you need him? [Quigley and Warnett circle each other a few times before moving in for the lock-up, and it's Warnett who takes the lead with a take-down followed up by a quick elbow to Quigley's temple, then scoops up the Canadian and sends him for the ride, catching Quigley off the ropes with a lightning-fast clothesline.  Warnett covers, hoping for a surprise pin, but D'Amato has barely dropped to the canvas before Quigley kicks out with authority.] TD: Marty Warnett perhaps a little overconfident in going for that quick pin, Steve. SR: Hey, it's Kick-me, Dross, it could happen.  Except that Walnut's the guy pinning him.  Your basic resistable force meeting a moveable object scenario. TD: Steve Roberts, Nobel laureate, ladies and gentlemen. SR: Hey, I could have been a great physicist, Dross.  I just had a problem with some of that, you know, science stuff. [Warnett drags Quigley back to his feet and sets him up for a suplex, but Quigley instead clutches the Welshman around the midsection and reverse atomic drops him!  Quigley wastes no time in following up with a beautifully-executed standing drop kick that sends Warnett crashing to the canvas!  The crowd pops at this sudden turn, as both Kowalski and Thunder heckle Warnett from the corners.  Quigley moves in on Warnett, and is met with a punch to the solar plexus from the Party Maniac, who leaps to his feet and leves the doubled-over Quigley with a DDT!  Pop!] TD: A real see-saw battle taking place here, Steve.  If this action is any indication of what we'll be seeing at Midsummer Madness, we should be in for a real treat. SR: [pause] Um, absolutely, Dross... the Outlaw's in full control in there. TD: More coffee, Steve? SR: Keep it comin', baby dolls. [Warnett pulls Quigley up and attempts another suplex, and this time connects with a beauty, snapping the Canadian with impressive force into the mat.  Another elbow to the chest, and Warnett covers again, this time getting a two count before Quigley kicks out.  Warnett, sensing that Quigley is faltering, scoops him up and send him into the ropes again, this time taking Quigley down with a flying axehandle!  Warnett covers - 1 - 2 - kickout!  The Welshman slams the mat in frustration, and picks up Quigley again, whipping him into the ropes and setting up for a back body drop, but on the rebound, Quigley takes Warnett down with a sunset flip!  Pop! D'Amato drops - 1 - 2 - kickout by Warnett!] TD: Chris Quigley showing remarkable resilience, Steve Roberts.  It's not hard to see why he's been on fire as of late here in the IIWF. SR: Quigley on fire... the Soundbite with a bucket of gasoline... this is the stuff that dreams are made of, Dross. [The frustrated Welshman decides that discretion is the better part of valour, and retreats to his corner to tag in Kowalski, but "The Fury" does not enter the ring!  Warnett is exasperated, and tags Kowalski again, but he doesn't budge, pointing instead across the ring to Thunder!  Pop!] TD: It looks like Kowalski wants a piece of Thunder, Steve Roberts! SR: Yeah, but it looks like Kick-me's gonna spoil the moment, Dross.  [Indeed, Quigley stands his ground, beckoning Kowalski to step into the ring, but Kowalski just shrugs, drops to the floor, and begins making his way up the aisle to the exit!  Warnett is beside himself, complaining to D'Amato, who has begun counting Kowalski out!] SR: Ha!  Attaboy, Fury!  Kowalski knows when his time's being wasted, Dross -- too bad these morons in the Coliseum don't.  [Quigley looks as confused as Warnett, and turns back to Thunder to confer, but the Lone Wolf reaches out as Quigley nears, and tags himself in! Thunder immediately drops to the floor, sprints up the aisle, and tackles Kowalski to the concrete!  Huge pop from the crowd!  The two men begin a pitched brawl halfway up the aisle, slowly making their way back to the ring as D'Amato's count reaches six.  As the two men reach the ring area, Thunder grabs Kowalski by the hair and drives his head into a ring post! Pop!] TD: Kowalski and Thunder are now the legal men, Steve Roberts, and the tone of this match has shifted from a technical showcase to a street fight. This is brutal! SR: This is GREAT, Dross!  Kick-me and Walnut can go though the whole wrestling textbook, but THIS is what we really want to see!  Two red-blooded, beer-drinkin', truck drivin' American boys, puttin' a good ol' down-home whuppin' on each other!  Yee-hah! [Thunder catches Kowalski as he falls back from the post and bum-rushes him into the ring, rolling in after him just a hair under the ten-count, but is met on the inside by a stiff right hand from the Fury!  Thunder fires back with a right of his own, and incredibly, the two men continue to slug it out on their knees!  Finally though, Kowalski tires of this, and sticks a thumb into Thunder's eye, whose head snaps back in pain.  Kowalski picks up Thunder and send him for the ride, pressing him on the rebound and hotshotting Thunder on the opposite rope!  Big pop!] TD: What a devastating manoeuvre from Steve Kowalski, who seems to have taken control of this match. Steve. SR: Don't jump to conclusions, Dross.  These two can go all night, and in that Falls Count Anywhere match at Midsummer Madness, they just might! Hey, why are Kick-me and Walnut hanging around at ringside? TD: This is a tag team contest, Steve.  They're in the match. SR: You know, Dross, you always manage to find the cloud in the silver lining, don't you? [Kowalski jumps on Thunder as if to pin him, but instead elects to grab Thunder by the ears and slam his head into the mat several times before picking him up again.  The Furies at ringside start to pop wildly as Kowalski hooks the Lone Wolf's arms!] SR: Skullpump!  Here it comes, Dross! [Kowalski doesn't quite get that far, however, because before he can lift Thunder, the Tombstone native surges forward, driving his head quite a ways below Kowalski's belt.  Kowalski doubles over, and a wicked throat spike from Thunder sends him to the mat, clutching his larynx!  The enraged Thunder picks Kowalski up by the hair, drawing protests from D'Amato, and snap-mares Kowalski by the hair halfway across the ring!  The Fury lands right in front of Marty Warnett, who is stretching for the tag, but incredulously, Kowalski turns away from his corner and throws himself right back at Thunder, catching him off-guard with a shoulder block!  Warnett is practically tearing out his hair, not able to believe what is transpiring, while across from him, Quigley looks bored stiff, but tries nonetheless to remain focused on the action in the ring.] TD: This is unbelieveable, Steve Roberts!  Kowalski had an opportunity to tag out to Warnett, and he turned his back on his partner! SR: Do you blame him, Dross?  Kowalski's been working hard in this match -- do you think he wants to let Walnut in and get his ass pinned by Thunder? Besides, this match only got interesting when the two bad boys started going.  Our viewing audience shrinks every time Walnut or Kick-me step in the ring. TD: I doubt our ratings numbers would support that theory, Steve, but... oh my goodness, this is getting out of control! [Both men land by the ropes, with Thunder rising first.  As Kowalski pulls himself to his feet by the ropes, Thunder measures him and lays in with a running clothesline, knocking both men over the top rope!  On the floor, the two wrestlers resume their brawling, firing away with punches, kicks, chops and chokeholds while in the ring, Dave D'Amato has once again begun the ten count.  Quigley and Warnett are both in the ring, unsure of what to do, and both protest to D'Amato, who just shakes his head with a "what can I do" expression, and resumes counting.] TD: This match seems in danger of ending with a double countout, Steve. SR: Look at Quigley, Dross!   What's he think he's gonna do, _drag_ Brody Thunder back to the ring? [Chris Quigley drops to the floor and sprints over to where Thunder and Kowalski are trading blows, with Warnett right on his heels, not wanting to be left short if Thunder gets back in the ring, and both men attempt to intercede in the wild melee, but the Fury and the Lone Wolf just shove them aside in their zeal to get at each other.  Quigley succeeds in pulling Thunder away from Kowalski momentarily, and as Thunder shoves Quigley back and cusses him out, Kowalski suddenly grabs a chair from ringside and swings away!  Thunder, however, anticipates the attack and ducks, and the chair smacks Quigley right in the side of the head!] TD: Oh dear! SR: That'd be an upper deck home run in any major league park, Dross!  Ha! [D'Amato counts away... 5...  Quigley collapses to the concrete as Thunder grabs the chair on Kowalski's follow-through and floors the Fury with a vicious headbutt!  6... Thunder raises the chair and prepares to bring it down on Kowalski's back, but at the last moment is tackled to the floor by Marty Warnett!  7... Warnett drags Kowalski to his feet and tries to push him into the ring, but behind him, Brody Thunder swings away with the chair, smashing it into Warnett's lower back!] SR: YES!  Finally, the men have been separated from the boys!  [D'Amato's count reaches 8... Warnett crumples to the floor, clutching his back in agony, as Thunder stalks Kowalski, who has fallen against the timekeeper's table, and measures him for another chair shot.  9... Thunder winds up to deliver the blow, but at the same time, Kowalski whips around, the timekeeper's bell in his hands, and smashes the bell into Thunder's head just as Thunder brings the chair down on the Fury's skull!  Wild pop from the crowd!  Thunder and Kowalski collapse to the concrete, and all four men are prone on the floor outside the ring as Dave D'Amato reaches ten!  Ding!  Ding!  Ding!] SL: Ladies and gentlemen, the result of this contest is.. a DOUBLE COUNTOUT! TD: An incredible end to a bizarre match, Steve Roberts!  All four men are on the concrete outside the ring, and all four men have been counted out! Absolutely nothing between these four men has been resolved tonight, and this evening's events will likely only fuel their respective rivalries heading into Midsummer Madness, in just one week's time! SR: It looks like it ain't over yet, Dross!  Check it out! [Kowalski struggles to his knees, shaking off the cobwebs, and sees Thunder stirring beside him.  Seizing the bell which is lying at ringside, Kowalski prepares to deliver another blow to Thunder's cranium, but before he can bring the heavy steel object down, he is bowled over by a furious Chris Quigley, incensed over Kowalski's previous chair shot!  Kowalski and Quigley trade blows as Warnett looks on, still clutching his back in pain, and suddenly both Kowalski and Quigley are double-clotheslined to the floor by Brody Thunder!  Thunder dives into the fray, and now a three-way brawl ensues between Thunder, Kowalski, and a very out-of-place but game Chris Quigley!  The melee rages on until the JJS storms down the aisle and swarms the combatants, dragging off Quigley, and struggling to disentangle Thunder and Kowalski, who have their hands locked around each others' necks. Warnett merely makes his way around the opposite side of the ring and quietly limps toward the exit, still rubbing at his back.  Finally, the ring area is cleared as the JJS manage to herd the Fury and the Lone Wolf up the aisle and out the exit.] TD: Well, the bad blood between Thunder and Kowalski is threatening to boil over next week in their Falls Count Anywhere match at Midsummer Madness. And Chris Quigley showed himself to be a bit of a brawler in his own right, Steve. SR: You gotta be kiddin' me, Dross.  Kick-me's lucky he's able to walk out of here tonight after mixing it up with the Fury and the Wolf.  If the JJS had shown up ten seconds later, they'd be soaking him up off the floor with a sponge right now.  But I guess I gotta hand it to him, at least he showed some guts, if not brains.  I noticed Walnut made himself scarce when the manure hit the fan. TD: Indeed, Marty Warnett may have suffered an injury in that free for all at ringside. Most likely he decided to avoid any further conflict, in order not to jeopardise his appearance against Chris Quigley in their grudge match at Midsummer Madness next week. SR: Gutless. TD: Before we move on to our next match, I must say that it's a great thrill to have a very special guest in the IIWF Coliseum for tonight's card. SR: Seka made it? TD: No! SR: Hyapatia Lee? TD: It is NOT a porn star! SR: How did you know those were porn stars? Drossie you ol' dog, you! Been burning up the VCR at home? TD: I... they just... that is... never you mind, Steve Roberts! I'm speaking of Wee Willie Walker, one of the greatest midget wrestlers in history. He recently retired and.... SR: Midgets... damn. And after all that talk about Emmanuel Lewis on Tuesday. TD: And what a reception Wee Willie is receiving as Sparkplug Lee introduces him to this capacity crowd. SR: Why doesn't the little runt stand up and acknowledge the morons? TD: He _is_ standing. SR: Where is he? TD: Right there in the third row. SR: Don't see nothing but Poutine's cousins and some pre-pubescent Genesis fans poppin' zits. Wait, those _are_ Poutine's cousins. TD: You're incorrigible, Steve Roberts. SR: I thought I was in Portland. TD: Sigh. We're ready to go with our next match. Let's go up to Sparkplug for the introductions. ________ ______ | || |\ \ /\ / /| __|.................................................. | || | \ v v / | __| Billy Shakespeare & Kevin Christiansen vs. |_||_| \_/\_/ |_| Ronnie Paris & The Phoenix ....................................................................... WRITER: SO [Cut to Sparkplug Lee in the ring.] RA: Ladies and gentlemen, this tag team match is one fall with a twenty minute time limit. At this time, I would like to introduce the special referee for this match... TD: Oh boy, we've been anticipating this all evening... and apparently so have these great IIWF fans! [A murmur circles the IIWF Coliseum, interrupting Sparkplug. As a spotlight falls on the portal, Sparky continues.] RA: You know him more for his skills as a wrestler, but at Midsummer Madness he will maintain justice between Requiem and Otto Verhoeven as the special referee. Please welcome at this time... "Syyyyyyyyychosys" Joe Petrow! [The murmuring continues as Petrow enters the coliseum in IIWF referee attire. The Sychopaths begin to whoop and pay homage to Petrow, who walks silently to ringside. He carries a huge book in his right hand and walks directly to the IIWF broadcast table, dropping the book in front of Dross with a loud thud. The microphone picks up Petrow saying "I got it memorized... see what you can do with it, Dross."] TD: What am I supposed to do with this? SR: Are you gonna keep feeding me straight lines like that, Dross? TD: I mean, this is a copy of the IIWF Rulebook, all 1,127 pages of it.... SR: That'll be 1,128 pages when I get finished writing the "no midgets allowed in this fed" clause. [Petrow strolls back to the ring steps and enters the ring as Sparkplug again raises the microphone.] RA: And now, the competitors. Introducing first, from... urk.... [Sparky falls silent as Petrow "gently" removes the ring mic from his hands. The capacity crowd falls silent as Petrow looks out into the sea of faces.] JP: Ladies and gentlemen, I am indeed the appointed referee for this next match. But before we begin, I would like to point out the rule stated in Section 4, Paragraph 10, subsection 1: "The referee, at his discretion, may appoint three judges before the match, who will determine a winner in the event of a time-limit draw" And I am announcing that I am enforcing that rule tonight. Ladies and gentlemen, your judges for this match, are...Tim Dross, "Soundbite" Steve Roberts, and...[points to the back] THE SMOOTH! [Good pop as the spotlight picks out The Smooth making his way down to ringside. The massive man casually nods at Petrow as he passes the ring, then suspiciously eyes the small steel chair beside Dross before settling his substantial girth into the seat.] TD: Well, this is quite a surprise. SR: It's the Tijuana Taxi Squad together again. Whoo baby! Let the good times roll! El pollo es loco en la cabeza! [The Smooth raises an eyebrow at Roberts, then lets out a little laugh.] TD: The chicken is crazy in the head? What are you talking about, Steve Roberts? SR: You'll know when the time comes, Dross. Just read your rulebook. TD: I think I know the rulebook pretty well because... hey, it looks like Luke Steele has an interest in this match. SR: You mean, Luke "Quigley makes me sque..." TD: Steve! We don't need to get into that tonight! [Luke Steele wanders through the crowd to a moderate pop, hi-fiving the fans as he makes his way to the steel ring guard. But he goes no farther and takes a seat on the front row. Petrow sees him, raises an eyebrow, then whispers something to Sparkplug Lee as he extends the ring mic.] RA: May I....? Thank you. [accepting the mic] Ladies and gentlemen, to reduce the risk of interference in this match, referee Petrow has declared that no spectators will be allowed beyond the ring barrier without a valid IIWF Manager's License. [Steele merely shakes his head as he folds his arms and kicks his feet up on the ring guard.] TD: Petrow has no right to... SR: Au contraire, Timbo. If you knew your IIWF Rulebook, you'd also know that Section 3, Paragraph 7, Subsection 3 gives any IIWF official the power to check for a valid IIWF Manager's License. TD: You're full of... SR: Page 242... look it up. Petrow is proving that _he_ is the one in control of this match. He's sending a clear message to Rectum and Otto Verhoeven that Midsummer Madness will be a clean event. TD: [mumbling and flipping through the book] Foreign objects... maiming spectators... what page did you say? [Back in the ring, Sparky _finally_ gets around to the introductions.] RA: Introducing first, at a combined weight of 495 pounds, from London, England, and Ashland, Oregon, here are Kevin "The Cavalier" Christiansen and "Spoooootlight" Billy Shakespeare! ["Little Willie" blares over the PA system, inducing a big pop. The fans quickly drown out the music with a "Bil-ly... Bil-ly" chant. Both wrestlers slap fans' hands on the way to the ring, then look up toward the ring to see Petrow removing both tag ropes and moving them to the opposite corners. Shakespeare and Christiansen look at each other with puzzled expressions.] TD: What in the world is Petrow doing? He can't just... SR: Wanna bet? Check out Section 8, Paragraph 2, Subsection 7 -- that's page 912, by the way. Quite honestly, I'm impressed by Joe Petrow. I didn't think anyone knew the IIWF Rulebook as well as the Soundbite. TD: That's ridiculous. Let's see... page 912... here we go: "The ring official may at his discretion, if he deems it in the best interest of the competitors, choose the designated corners at which partners will stand during tag matches. The corners must be designated before the opening ring bell." I don't believe this. [Shakespeare and Christiansen continue to the ring. Petrow is there to meet them and can be heard over Sparkplug's mic warning Shakespeare about spending excessive time on the ropes and turnbuckles...] JP: [yelling at the broadcast table] That's Section 6, Paragraph 6, Subsection 3, Dross... look it up! [Dross quickly flips through the pages as Petrow makes Christiansen remove one of his boots to check for foreign objects.] SR: Wanna hear something funny, Dross? I hear Petrow has deputized Quigley to perform body cavity searches. [Sparkplug, deciding he'd better get things moving, raises the microphone again.] RA: And their opponents, weighing in at a combined 445 pounds, from El Paso, Texas, and Cherokee, North Carolina, they are Roooooonie Paris and The Phoeeeeeenix! [A heel pop accompanies Tina Turner's "Simply the Best" as Ronnie Paris is the first to enter the coliseum. He is still dressed in white tights with the Japanese flag on each leg and a waistband which reads simply, "The Best." He threatens to slap one young fan who waves a homemade "Paris Stinks... Even in the Springtime!" poster.] TD: This young man has really changed in recent weeks, Steve. SR: Yeah, it's like someone finally lit a fire under his ass. TD: He seems to abandoned all his principles -- not to mention his fans -- during this feud with Billy Shakespeare. It's even to the point that friends like Luke Steele and The Phoenix don't know if they can trust him. SR: Speaking of... where _is_ birdboy? [On cue, The Phoenix enters the coliseum and begins shaking hands with the fans. He looks at Ronnie, who is already halfway down the aisle, and shakes his head. Paris stops, turns to face The Phoenix, and puts his hands on his hips. Undaunted, The Phoenix stops to autograph an official IIWF "The Phoenix: Flying High" poster for a young lady. In the ring, Petrow shakes his head and yells at the broadcast table.] JP: That's a violation of Section 4, Paragraph 4, Subsection 3. Make a note of that, Dross, and I'll assess the fine later. TD: What is he talking abo...? SR: Section 4, Paragraph 4, Subsection 3: "In the interest of time considerations, no wrestler shall willingly sign autographs during the course of an IIWF card. The sanctioned autograph period ends 10 minutes before the opening match and resumes immediately following the final bell of the last match." That's gonna cost The Phoenix. TD: Incredible. [Paris and The Phoenix argue briefly as they continue toward the aisle and the word "fans" can be heard in the discussion. As they enter the ring, Petrow immediately approaches Paris and begins speaking in Japanese. Paris seems to not even pay attention as his steely gaze is fixed on The Phoenix walking across the ring to shake hands with Shakespeare and Christiansen.] TD: What is Petrow going on about? And why is he speaking in Japanese? SR: Paris spent five years abroad, remember? He knows exactly what the ref is saying -- that Paris' finisher, the Texas Twister, is illegal. It's a violation of Section 3, Paragraph 7, Subsection 5: "It shall be illegal for any wrestler to snap his opponent's neck across the top rope." I guess Paris will have to do it when Petrow isn't looking. TD: [sarcastically] Is there some rule about shaking hands with your opponent before a match? SR: Naw, that's just in poor taste. [The Smooth grunts in agreement. Petrow finally signals for the ring bell as The Phoenix and Christiansen open for their respective teams. Both men lock up, with Phoenix gaining the advantage with a headlock. Christiansen shakes him into the ropes, but is met on the return with a shoulder block that sends him to the mat. Phoenix pulls his opponent to his feet and delivers a knife-edge chop that sends Christiansen to the corner. Phoenix attempts to follow up with a whip into the opposite corner, but Christiansen reverses it and then follows Phoenix into the corner for a splash.] TD: These two men are really going at it to open this tag match. And it's interesting to note that they will be partners on the same team just one week from tonight at Midsummer Madness. SR: I don't care about these losers, I want to see Pukespeare and Paris try to coexist next week on the same team. TD: Indeed. Paris and Shakespeare will team with Dexter St. Croix and The Machines to take on Christiansen, The Phoenix, Sebastian Jericho and The Hollywood Bloods. It's all part of Midsummer Madness, fans. Call your local cable operator and tell him you want to see all the action LIVE on pay-per-view. SR: Hey Dross, don't forget Section 9, Paragraph 4, Subsection 5: "Broadcasters will be fined for excessive promotion of forthcoming pay-per-view events." TD: There isn't a rule like that! SR: Well, there oughta be. TD: Back to action and it's Christiansen with the Irish whip and a big backdrop on The Phoenix. Oh my, that's gotta hurt! [The Phoenix hits the mat hard, but rolls to his corner before Christiansen has an opportunity to follow up. He quickly makes the tag to Paris, who confidently enters the ring and beckons for Christiansen to bring the fight to him. However, "The Cavalier" looks out into the capacity crowd and then points back at his own corner -- toward Shakespeare, who is pounding on the ropes.] TD: Kevin Christiansen wants to see the same thing everyone in the building wants to see -- Billy Shakespeare and Ronnie Paris in the ring together. SR: I wanna see me and Amber Lynn together. TD: I can't help you with that, Steve, but Christiansen is going to give the fans what they want! [Christiansen backs up to his corner and extends his hand to Billy Shakespeare, who eagerly tags in and vaults the top rope. Paris quickly backpedals and almost forcibly tags The Phoenix, who looks stunned at the move.] TD: Paris doesn't want any part of Shakespeare! He tagged right back out! SR: It's all a ploy to upset Shakespeare. Paris knows what he's doing. [Referee Petrow scowls as if trying to find a rule which would apply to the situation. The Phoenix jumps back into the ring and locks up with Shakespeare, who glares at Paris. The lack of concentration costs him, as Phoenix hip tosses him to the mat. Phoenix bounces off the mat and steps over Shakespeare, but on the return is met with an arm drag from Billy. Shakespeare follows up with an arm bar, giving him time to stare at Paris again. Phoenix is able to kick back and scissor Billy's head, but Shakespeare grabs a rope. However, Petrow kicks Billy's hand and Shakespeare releases his grip.] TD: What was that?! Shakespeare had the bottom rope and that hold should have been broken. SR: Nah, it was a stall tactic by Pukespeare. Good call, Petrow! [Still, Billy is able to break the scissors and kips back to his feet, now casting a glare at Petrow. Phoenix attempts a spinning kick, but Shakespeare is quick enough to catch his foot. An enziguiri attempt by Phoenix is ducked by Shakespeare. Billy attempts a quick cover: 1 - 2 - kickout! Billy quickly tags Christiansen, who enters and hits a side suplex on Phoenix. He adds a shoulderbreaker and covers: 1 - 2 - kickout!] TD: Shakespeare and Christiansen are really doing the damage to The Phoenix right here -- all because Ronnie Paris wouldn't face Shakespeare. SR: What are you talking about, Dross? Look at Paris trying to rally his partner. [Paris stands in his corner clapping his hands and looking out at the crowd, which only draws a heel pop. Ronnie responds with an obscene gesture.] TD: Oh my, I apologize for that, ladies and gentlemen. SR: It sent a clear message that Paris thinks he's number one, huh? [Christiansen hits a belly-to-back suplex on The Phoenix and quickly covers: 1 - 2 - Petrow breaks the count as Phoenix gets a leg on the ropes, which sends Shakespeare into a rage outside the ring. Petrow walks toward Billy and yells "Section 8, Paragraph 4, Subsection 3: Wrestlers outside the ring must stand on the apron and hold the tag rope at all times. If he doesn't, the referee is within his rights to count that wrestler out, just as he would if the legal wrestler were outside the ring."] TD: Oh, that's simply... SR: It's simply the rule, Dross. Attaboy, Petrow, keep it clean! [The fire in Shakespeare's eyes is evident and he meets Petrow's gaze as he reaches over and grabs the tag rope. Christiansen, who watched the exchange, hasn't noticed The Phoenix stagger toward his own corner. Petrow and Christiansen both turn to see Phoenix make a falling tag to Paris, who enters the ring on fire. Paris unloads on Christiansen with punches then stuns the Englander with a snap suplex. He follows up with a knee drop, then kneels beside Christiansen and peppers him with right hands. Shakespeare attempts to comes to his partner's assistance, but is met by Petrow, who points a finger at Billy and unceremoniously pushes him back through the ropes. Meanwhile, Paris grinds his boot in Christiansen's face.] TD: C'mon, Petrow, turn around and look at the real rulebreaker! SR: Billy boy tried to enter this match illegally. Was he tagged? No. Is he a moron? Yes. See, it all balances out in the end. [The Phoenix yells something at Paris, but Ronnie responds with "shut up!" Paris lifts Christiansen for a German suplex, then covers: 1 - 2 - kickout! He whips Christiansen into the corner, then holds him and invites Phoenix to take a cheap shot, which is refused. Paris shakes his head in disdain, spins "The Cavalier" around and delivers a roundhouse right hand that sends Christiansen to the mat. Paris and The Phoenix begin arguing in the corner as Petrow checks his watch and moves his hands into a "T" sign.] TD: What the heck is Petrow doing now? SR: That would be Section... hmmm... damned if I know. [Petrow helps Christiansen to his feet and leads him to the middle of the ring. He tells "The Cavalier" to assume the "down" position on his knees, then signals for Paris to be the offensive wrestler on top -- as if he were beginning an amateur match.] SR: Ah, that would be Section 3, Paragraph 13, Subsection 11, a little- used rule against stalling that is a throwback to the early days of professional wrestling. TD: He's setting them up like they're amateurs. SR: Ooh, straight line! Must... show... restraint! [Paris sloppily turns Christiansen over, only to be met with a forearm to the face, then another. This gives Christiansen time to crawl to the corner and make a tag to Shakespeare. Huge face pop as Billy vaults the ropes and drop-kicks Paris into the ropes. He is quickly to his feet and delivers several forearm blows to Ronnie's head, then whips him into the ropes and hits a high backdrop.] TD: Billy Shakespeare has hit the ring like a man on fire. SR: What a pity that's just an analogy. [Shakespeare points at the turnbuckle and the fans give a huge pop, knowing he is signalling for the Curtain Call. As he gets to the top turnbuckle, however, Paris realizes what is happening and slides out of the ring. Petrow begins the count on Paris, but breaks it as Luke Steele jumps over the ring barrier and goes nose-to-nose with Paris. Steele can be heard to say "What's up with you, baby doll?" before Petrow leaps out of the ring and separates them. Steele glares at Petrow, who says, "I _know_ you don't have a valid manager's license. You're outta here!" He points to the dressing room, but Steele stands glaring at Petrow for several moments before jumping back over the ring barrier and making his way deep into the crowd.] TD: Luke Steele with a question many of us would like answered right now.... SR: Does Nurse Heidi sleep in the nude? Mmmmm... I needs a biscuit just thinkin' about it! TD: I _mean_, what's up with Ronnie Paris? [Petrow climbs back into the ring and again begins the count on Paris, who jumps to the turnbuckle only to be met by Shakespeare. Petrow grabs Shakespeare's shoulder and says "give him room," but Paris takes advantage of the break to rake Billy's eyes. He climbs through the ropes and levels Shakespeare with a clothesline.] TD: Petrow may be following the rulebook, but he certainly hasn't done Shakespeare any favors here tonight. SR: Billy can always visit Quigley later if he wants favors. [Paris backs Shakespeare into the corner with several European uppercuts and is about to deliver a punch when The Phoenix reaches out and slaps Ronnie's hand. Paris stares at his partner with an angry look, but is pushed outside the ring by Petrow. The Phoenix glances back at Ronnie with a scowl as he whips Shakespeare into the ropes and hits a Frankensteiner and turns it into a sitting cover: 1 - 2 - kickout! The Phoenix leans over Billy, only to be rolled into a small package: 1 - 2 - kickout!] TD: You can't be careless for one second with these men in the ring. They can beat you in the blink of an eye. [Both men are to their feet at the same time, and simultaneously attempt standing drop-kicks. The impact sends both wrestlers to the mat. Shakespeare is the first to move and he slowly crawls to his corner and tags in Christiansen, who is rested and immediately goes to work on The Phoenix with a powerslam and a kneedrop. He hits a belly-to-belly suplex, then lifts The Phoenix for a spinebuster.] TD: Christiansen hit The Broadsword! This could be it! SR: No way, he's too close to the corner. [As Christiansen holds Phoenix's legs and rolls forward into a bridge, Petrow drops for the count: 1 -] TD: Ronnie Paris is right in front of them. He can break this count. [- 2 - The Phoenix, realizing where he is, reaches out to Paris for the tag, but Ronnie jumps off the ring apron and begins walking toward the dressing room - 3! Ding! Ding! Ding!] RA: Ladies and gentlemen, the winners of this match, Kevin "The Cavalier" Christiansen and "Spotlight" Billy Shakespeare! [Big face pop as Christiansen and Shakespeare exchange hi-fives in the middle of the ring before Petrow lifts their hands in victory. Shakespeare angrily pulls his hand from Petrow's grasp, which causes "Sychosys" to simply shrug and turn away. The Phoenix leans against the ring ropes in the corner, watching Paris berate the fans as he continues his walk up the aisle.] TD: That was quite an odd ending as Ronnie Paris abandoned his partner and cost his team a potential comeback. SR: The operative word is _team_, Dross. Paris is not a team player, nor should he be. If Phoenix and Steele want to continue to get their butts kicked every week, fine. But Paris has obviously decided he doesn't want to be a doormat in this fed. TD: Regardless, he'll be on the same team with none other than Billy Shakespeare next week right here in the IIWF Coliseum for Midsummer Madn... SR: Give it a break, Dross. [The Smooth grunts in agreement.] TD: Nevertheless, we got our first look at Joe Petrow as a referee. SR: And impressive he was! He sent a clear message: The referee is in control and if you dispute my calls you're gonna have to deal with me. TD: Sure, it worked with these cruiserweights, but I have to wonder if Joe Petrow can handle two heavyweights like Requiem and Otto Verhoeven. SR: Never fear when you live by the IIWF Rulebook! [The Smooth again grunts in agreement before rising and wandering back up the aisle. Cut back to the broadcast table at ringside.] SR: Hey, don't be a stranger, big guy! TD: If you'll excuse me, Steve, it's time to get some comments from the Cruiserweight Champion, Derek Mota. SR: No problem, Dross -- you can be a stranger any time you like. [Dross removes his headset and leaves the broadcast table. He enters the ring, and the crowd hushes up a bit, not knowing what to expect.] TD: Ladies and gentlemen, my guest at this time is the man who will face off against the Dirt Dog Unique Allah and the "Showstopper" Simon Lebec next week in a huge triple threat match. He is the self-proclaimed "heatseeker" of the IIWF -- and he is the IIWF Cruiserweight Champion! Please welcome... Derek Mota! ["The Great Southern Trendkill" starts blaring on the PA system as the fans greet the new champ with a loud pop!  Mota walks out slowly, not quite understanding the reaction he is getting.  He simply walks down the aisle, trying to ignore the fans as they reach out to touch him.  The cruiserweight title rests on his shoulder, and as he enters the ring, begins to lean against the ropes, almost appearing to be warming up for a match.] TD: Welcome, Derek, and congratulations on the title victory last week!  First things first.  How is your health?  You have been stretchered off several weeks in a row, all thanks to Genesis, and involved in a brawl earlier on here tonight. How will you be next Saturday for the triangle match? DM: The first thing I gotta say is to Genesis... SCREW YOU! [Mota grabs the Cruiserweight Title and holds it above his head in victory, showing it off to each section in the arena one by one.  Derek then turns to the entrance, where he holds his title above his head with one arm, and gives the finger in the general direction of the dressing room!] DM: Yeah, I'm better.  Next Saturday, I'm gonna be ready to go back at it like I'm used to.  I told the doctors that they ain't keepin' me outta the ring again, and they know better than to cross me.  So next weekend, you'll see me back in the ring doing what I do best.  And that's takin' the big risks to get the win.  TD: It was a big win for you last week against the Dirt Dog Unique Allah to get you the title, but certainly the interference of Simon Lebec did play a great part in the final outcome.  DM: Yeah, that little punk Lebec wants to get into the action again.  Boy, you might've beaten me in the Dog Collar match weeks ago to get the title match at the PPV, but who's the bitch now?  I BEAT YOU TO THE TITLE, BOY! [Mota quickly grabs something out of his wrestling tights and puts it around his neck.  The fans pop loudly as they realize it's the dog collar Mota stole from Jorgi Girl Bitch Diva at the Bondage a Go-Go weeks ago!] DM: Lebec, you be the dog, girlfriend!  So go fetch my paper, bitch, or are ya too busy sniffin' up Unique's butt right now? TD: Derek!  You still haven't accounted for the fact that Lebec just about handed you the win and the title last weekend! DM: Yeah, he wanted to play the game!  He can't be the leader, he's always gotta follow follow the pack, cause he's too scared to lead!  You WANTED to be the dog, Lebec!  And now you are!  And as for Dirt Dog Unique Allah, you think he had ANY chance in the ring against me?  I mean, the guy's a great wrestler, but he was PISS DRUNK!  And if there were any problems, I coulda gotten him arrested for public endangerment.  Man, that breath of his just kicked!  Phew! TD: I think your "sure thing" regarding DDUA being a part of Genesis was a total miss, Derek.  Are you willing to admit your failure there? DM: What, you think Genesis was gonna take a drunk bum like that?  Gimme a break? I just outsmarted them!  Instead of havin' the Age of Rage AND Genesis against me, I had them fight each other!  And it worked, didn't it?  Gave me enough time to take the title.  You think that woulda happened if every time I turned around you got Derek Rage powerbombing me through some table, and Highwayman with ANOTHER Daylight Robbery?  I may be the toughest little bastard in the IIWF, but even I'm smart enough to admit that I couldn't take all that and still take the title.  TD: Next Saturday... the big triangle match for the Cruiserweight Title with Simon Lebec and Dirt Dog Unique Allah.  The big catch is that they don't have to pin you to get the title.  The winner of the first fall, regardless of against who, will get the title.  How does this affect your game plan? DM: Nothin', 'cause I ain't gettin' outta the ring!  Just give DDUA another beer and he'll be asleep on the ring apron in no time, and call Lebec over to heel, and I cover him for the three count!  It's gonna be easy, 'cause... [The crowd gives a huge pop and Mota turns around to find DDUA launching himself off the top rope onto Derek Mota with a missile dropkick!  Mota is layed out on the mat, completely caught off guard.  Allah starts ramming Mota's head into the mat, and the Dog counts along!  "3... 7... 14... uh... 69!  Yeah, muhfuh!"  Dross just manages to get out of the ring in time, and makes his way back to the ringside announcers' table, where he once again takes his place next to Steve Roberts.] TD: Allah isn't taking Mota's words nicely here!  He was robbed of the Cruiserweight Title last week and he wants to show Mota exactly why! [Allah hits a belly to belly suplex on Mota, and grabs the title from out of Mota's hand, pointing to the fans, saying this title is his!  Mota is struggling back to his feet, but the surprise of Allah's attack has put him at a major disadvantage.] TD: You have to understand Allah's frustration at having been robbed of the title last week, but this attack isn't going to get it back for him! SR: Shut up, Dross!  A good brawl ain't gonna hurt nobody! [Dirt Dog Unique Allah has the Cruiserweight Title in his hands, and prepares to waffle Mota good with it...] TD: Lebec is in the ring!  Lebec is in the ring!  He's going to pay back Allah for getting him earlier on tonight! [Simon Lebec turns DDUA around, who yells out "We gonna have a threesome now, muhfuhs!" and nails Lebec in the head with the title!  Lebec goes flying several feet back, and gets up VERY slowly, a gash having been opened up on his forehead.] SR: Now THIS is interesting!  All I need is my biscuits and a good bottle of beer and I'll be satisfied! [Mota is back up to his feet, and clips DDUA in the back with a diving shoulder block.  Derek knocks him back a few steps with some hard hitting punches, and then hits him with the bodyplex!  Mota looks for his title, trying to use it as a weapon against Dirt Dog when...] TD: Lebec has hit Mota with the Blackball!  Mota is out!  Allah is out! And Lebec is standing in the ring, a huge cut opened up in his forehead!  These guys are killing each other out here! [The bloody Lebec stands above the stunned forms of both Mota and the Dirt Dog and scoops up the abandoned microphone from the mat. Amidst a huge heel pop, he yells over the PA:] SL: Listen up, "The Showstopper's" got something to say! [Fans boo, some start to heckle him.  Some throw trash into the ring.] For years... YEARS... I've come out!  Out into the crowd... onto the mat!  And for years... at least a little over one year, I guess... I've been overlooked!  Overlooked by the staff, overlooked by the committees, and overlooked by the wrestlers! And for years, I gave the best technical wrestling this sport has ever seen!  I gave the best show.  And most of all, I gave the most of myself! And... with that said, I still had to fight and claw my way to a title shot!  But... red tape and ass kissing aside... I'm there!  Oh yeah... I'm there!  Midsummer Madness... I get my shot!  Maybe not the Grand Puba of the IIWF, but it's a start!  The Cruiserweight Title!  But still, they want to complicate things by making MY shot a triangle match, even though I earned what I got.  That's fine by me.  I know I can beat Dirt Dog and Derek Mota with one arm tied around my nut-sack! Derek Mota, you owe me a title, since I was the one who gave you yours.  Unique Allah, you owe me a victory, since I would have beaten you had it been just me and you at Midsummer Madness!  Come September 6, 1997, I'll collect my dues... and leave... a champion! [Lebec drops the mic and once again begins driving his boots into the now recovering forms of Mota and the Dirt Dog, who attempt to fight to their feet. The crowd give a cheer as the Jobber Justice Squad dash down to ringside.] SR: And here comes the JJS to ruin it.  Damn, and I thought maybe we'd get rid of all of 'em in one shot!  ["Nifty" Ned Norton and the JJS run to the ring, swarming around Lebec, who is screaming at Mota "Who's the bitch now, Mota!".  The Barnacle Bros. are helping Allah and Mota to their feet, keeping them apart at the same time.] TD: As the JJS clears the ring, they're still trying to fight it out!  This Cruiserweight title action is heating up big time right now! [As one of the Brothers drags Mota out, he yells out "Take this, you're gonna need it!" and throws his dog collar at Lebec, who lets it drop to the ground and takes a swing at Allah!  All three wrestlers are barely being restrained as they get dragged back to the dressing room. Cut back to the broadcast table at ringside.] TD: That's one match that promises to be a great one next week!  Call your operator right now!  The ring is set to explode in our next encounter, folks, as Requiem, the heavyweight champion of the World, takes on Intercontinental champ Mad Dog Watkins in non-title action. SR: And you know why Requiem isn't putting his belt on the line tonight,     Dross? TD: I expect that was a decision made by the match making committee,     Steve, and I'm sure Requiem would've been perfectly willing to     defend his title tonight, had he been given the chance. SR: That's a load of bollocks, Timbo, and you know it! When Rectum heard     he was gonna be staring across the ring at the roughest, toughest,     most ruthless damn Intercontinental champion ever seen, he threw a     tantrum, ran to the suits with his nose running and just begged them     to sanction this match a non-title affair. First Rectum can't     even defend the belt without his gang of cartoon freaks, and now     he's having his title reign insulated by the IIWF officials! TD: I can't see any particular reason for our officials to give Requiem     special protection, Steve. I expect this match has been stipulated     in such a way so as not to have any major disruptions in the title     picture so close to Midsummer Madness. Let's go over to Sparkplug     Lee for the introductions. ________ ______ | || |\ \ /\ / /| __|.................................................. | || | \ v v / | __| Requiem vs. Mad Dog Watkins |_||_| \_/\_/ |_|.................................................... WRITER: RD [The camera cuts to centre ring, where Sparkplug Lee steps out into the spotlight and stares at the sea of fans before him, many who wave their "Bring Back Takezo Musashi!" signs frantically.] RA: Ladies and gentlemen, the following match will be contested for one     fall, champion versus champion with no titles on the line!     Introducing first, hailing from Detoit Michigan, and weighing in at     269 lbs; this man is a fifteen year veteran and a true professional     of the wrestling ring; he's held prestigious championships all over     the world, currently he's the reigning IIWF Intercontinental     champion, please give him a big welcome, here is Mad Dog Watkins! ["Paint it Black" by the Rolling Stones rocks out over the arena, and Mad Dog Watkins appears to a deafening heel pop from the fans. The gleaming Intercontinental title belt is strapped around his waist and he wears his usual black scowl, the expression seemingly etched permanently on his face. Watkins, ever the focused athlete, ignores the insults and trash hurled at him from the stands and walks confidently down the aisle. After climbing between the ropes, he hands his belt to the referee and retires to the corner, staring intently down the aisle, waiting for his opponent to make his entrance.] SR: There's a true professional right there, Tim Dross. I might not     have always seen eye to eye with Mad Dog Watkins, but I've always     respected him. He's a man among men in a violent sport, and what you     see right there is what you get: no flashy costumes, no cute     nicknames, no spiked underwear, no split legged springboard sushi     toyota press finisher. With Mad Dog Watkins, you just get fists,     sweat and business, and that's just how a professional wrestler     should be. TD: I don't doubt what you're saying, Steve. Mad Dog Watkins is     certainly a hard-nosed, on the mat wrestler in the old school     tradition, but remember that the sport has advanced in leaps and     bounds since the days when Buttercup and Mad Dog tore up smoke     filled arena's across the country, and we'll have to see how well     Watkins matches up to the flashier, more modern style of Requiem. SR: Yeah, we'll get to see how a good old fashioned ass-kickin' will     expose the truth about Requiem: He's just a cowardly big girl's     blouse hiding behind some `mystical' image, and Watkin's is gonna     tenderize his punk ass right before Otto Verhoeven devours him at     Midsummer Madbness! Whoooo! RA: And his opponent! Hailing from parts unknown and weighing in at 306     lbs; the leader of Genesis, the stable that has taken the wrestling     world by storm; feared across the globe as the "Angel of     Destruction" and the "Herald of Damnation"; the reigning Heavyweight     champion of the World, please give him a big welcome, here is     Requiem! [A voice booms out over the loudspeakers, sounding suspiciously like Porky Pig, stuttering "From this day forth, there shall bee-buh-buh-dee-buh-dee-buh-de no mercy for the duh-duh-damned!" Instead of Requiem's usual mystical theme music, the theme from "Looney Toons" plays over the speakers. The fans look on in amused surprise as Requiem makes his appearance, the champion looking half annoyed, half surprised at this turn of events. The camera zooms into the sound booth window, showing Brian Lau giving the thumbs up with a big smile on his face.] SR: Ha! What could be more appropriate? Cartoon music for a cartoon     wrestler! Well done, Brian Lau! TD: Requiem doesn't look too pleased about this... [The crowd remembers the pure evil of Requiem soon enough, and begin to give him a tremendous heel pop, perhaps even louder than the one that greeted Mad Dog Watkins. As Requiem heads down the aisle, the magnificent IIWF World Championship belt draped over his shoulder, he looks out over the crowd for the familiar sight of his faithful Genesis henchmen, but unusually, he can't find them. Requiem looks confused, and for a brief moment, a look of cold uncertainty passes over his face. It soon passes, however, and Requiem climbs determinedly into the ring, the fans in awe of his towering presence. Mad Dog Watkins, though, is unimpressed, and fixes his scowl upon the world champion.] TD: Hmmm... Unusual that the rest of Genesis are nowhere to be seen.     Perhaps Requiem has been more stung by the critics than we thought,     and wants to prove his worth by himself tonight. SR: I don't think so, Dross. I think it's far more likely that they're     all backstage with Gabrielle, taking turns giving her a good... TD: [interrupting] Steve! SR: What?! I was only going to say, "giving her a good piece of advice".     You have a filthy mind, Dross! [Ding! Ding! Ding! Mad Dog Watkins comes out of the corner fast, looking to trade shots with his towering opponent, but Requiem halts the Intercontinental champion's rush with a thunderous boot to the midsection. Watkins doubles over painfully, and Requiem bounds off the ropes, coming back to land a tremendous rocker dropper to the back of the old dog's head! Watkins thuds face first into the canvas. Requiem bounds off the ropes once again, this time aiming an elbowdrop at the back of Watkin's head. Watkins rolls aside, however, and the world champion jars his elbow on the mat. Both men leap to their feet, Requiem rocking Watkins with big looping shots to the head. Watkins allows himself to fall backwards against the ropes, and bounds back at Requiem with a forearm smash, but the big man catches hold of him and blasts him to the mat with a belly to belly suplex! Requiem with the quick pin attempt: 1 - 2 - Watkins kicks out with authority!] TD: Requiem opting to dictate a fast pace at the start of the match.     He'll be looking to score a quick, devastating victory, knowing well     that Mad Dog Watkins has limitless reserves of stamina and only     seems to get stronger as the match wears on. SR: That's because his opponents are getting _weaker_, Timbo. Watkins     is a sixty minute man; he can trade holds all night, while Requiem     gets out of breath unfastening his ring robe. Watkins will out pound     you, out last you, and out smart you, and that's a tough combination     to beat. And let me tell ya something: without his Genesis cronies     at his side, Requiem 'aint up for the task. [Both men get back to their feet, a little slower this time. Requiem drives a few shots into the bald noggin of Mad Dog Watkins, but they seem to have little effect. Watkins stops, gives a smirk and shakes his head at Requiem, before hitting back with shots of his own! Requiem is stunned by an overhand right, a left hook and a right uppercut. Suddenly, Watkins grabs hold of Requiem's snow white vanderdyke beard! The fans pop as Watkins yanks on the beard and swings Requiem around the ring, before yanking Requiem's head forward and blasting him with a headbutt hard enough to split wood! Requiem totters, and then crashes to the mat like a falling redwood. Mad Dog drops down to the mat and immediately ties up Requiem with a figure four leglock. The World champion's face contorts in pain as he claws for the ropes.] TD: Mad Dog Watkins really caught Requiem off guard there, but I can't     imagine him forcing this monster to submit. SR: I gotta remember all this for the next pub brawl I start. Grab the     guy's beard and then let fly with a headbutt! Instant carnage! [Watkins really applies the pressure, but the thick, tree trunk legs of Requiem impede the hold somewhat. Requiem, being so tall, is able to reach out and grab the bottom ring rope with minor effort, and Dave D'Amato commands Watkins to release the figure four. Reluctantly, the Mad Dog complies. Requiem clambers up to his feet, limping slightly, but Watkins charges straight in, blasting him across the chest with a thunderous clothesline, sending the big man up over the top rope! Big pop from the crowd! Requiem lands awkwardly on the arena floor, and Watkins immediately vaults over the top rope himself. He drags Requiem up and whips him hard into the guard rails, Requiem's back tasting the cold steel and sending several ringside fans scattering. Watkins charges in and hits a big kneelift, further buffeting the World champ, then grabs his head and rams it right into the steel railing! Requiem staggers about a bit, clearly disentoriated by the blow, and drops to his knees. Watkins seizes up the steel ring steps and approaches his foe. The crowd pops in anticipation... Clang! Watkins delivers a tremendous blow to the head with the heavy metal steps! Requiem slumps down to the floor as the crowd pops in awe.] SR: Oh man! What an awesome shot from the Mad Dog! TD: It's unfortunate, but I guess when you put two rulebreakers in the     ring together, mayhem is bound to occur. SR: Yeah, ain't it great? The bookers should schedule matches like this     more often. [The ten count is approaching, so Watkins drags Requiem up, once again with his vanderdyke, and rolls him beneath the bottom rope. Requiem appears to have a savage cut on his forehead, inflicted by the ring step wielding Mad Dog. Blood flows freely down Requiem's face, much to the approval of all the "Furies" in the audience. Watkins enters the ring as Requiem attempts to get to his feet, but the world champ reels dizzily and keels over again. Watkins seizes hold of Requiem's beard, dragging him up for a third time, this time charging toward the corner and slamming the world champion's head into the top turnbuckle with a sickening thud; this, no doubt, aggravating the cut further. Watkins pummels Requiem in the forehead several times, opening up the wound a little more with each blow, then hoists him aloft in a vertical suplex. Watkins holds the big man in the air for several seconds, wavers slightly, then brings him crashing down to the mat. Watkins with the cover 1 - 2 - ] TD: Three! No! Requiem kicked out right at the last moment! SR: He's just delaying the inevitable, Timbo. It can't be denied by you     or any of the countless millions watching this match around the     world: Requiem is nothing without his Genesis henchmen! Look at the     way Watkins is dominating him in this bout! TD: Just where the heck are Genesis anyway? Hold on a moment... I'm     getting reports of a disturbance in the locker room area! [The camera cuts backstage, showing a door barricaded with all manner of furniture. A plaque on the door reads: "Genesis Locker Room." Muffled sounds of bashing and shouts can be heard coming from behind the door.] TD: Oh my goodness! It appears that Genesis have been barricaded in     their locker room! SR: Ha! This is great! The critics say the Old Gen are getting     complacent, they say they're all over the hill, but the critics     don't know what the hell they're talking about! The Old Gen are     striking back with a vengeance, and the first step is exposing     Requiem as the scared yella' freak here tonight without his buddies     to back him up! [The camera cuts back to the ring where Watkins is grinding away on the forehead of Requiem with his boot, spilling blood all over the mat. Suddenly, Requiem seizes hold of the Mad Dog's leg! Watkins tries to pull away, but only succeeds in off-balancing himself further. Requiem yanks on the leg, pulling the Intercontinental champion's feet out from under him! The Genesis Generation fans in the audience pop out loud as the back of Watkin's head smashes into the mat! Requiem clambers up to his feet, unsteadily at first, but then confidently. He raises his fists to the air, the image of his albinoid face coated with blood lending him an eerie, otherworldly appearance. The fans pop in awe. Requiem seizes hold of Mad Dog Watkins throat, heaves him up into the air with frightening power, and then plunges him to the mat, the chokeslam executed with tremendous velocity! Watkins sudders and goes still. Requiem once again stands with his arms held aloft, the unholy image sending shivers down the spines of all the fans watching. He runs to the ropes...] TD: What an unbelievable turn around by the "Angel of Destruction"!     Watkins is absolutely motionless down on that mat! You say Requiem     is nothing without his allies, Steve, but he's doing fine all by     himself right now! SR: No way! Look at this! [...Requiem bounds off the ropes, leaping over the carcass of Mad Dog Watkins, bounds off the opposite strands, and now leaps into the air... all 306 lbs of him now crashing down on top of Mad Dog Watkins in a crushing big splash! Requiem hooks the leg for the pin...] TD: This has got to be it! One...  Two... SR: Mad Dog Watkins has kicked out! Two of the most devastating moves     I've ever seen Requiem execute, and Watkins is still in the match! I     told you he was a tough guy, Tim Dross! [Requiem gets up, dragging Watkins up with him, and slings the veteran to the ropes. Watkins bounds off, only to be floored with a big boot to the face from the world champion! Another big pop from the Genesis Generation among the crowd.] TD: Oh my goodness, look at this! The Old Generation stars are flocking     to ringside! SR: There's Otto Verhoeven, Tiger Claw, Casey James and ack... Dan     Kauffman! Come on guys, now you're here, all you gotta do is storm     that ring and splatter Rectum across the canvas! You know you're     just dying to do it, and we're dying to see it! TD: Please, for once let's have an important match unmarred by outside     interference. SR: Hell, I only wanna see Requiem get a little taste of his own     medicine! [Requiem stares warily down at ringside, where the four old generation stars have arrayed themselves, his frightening, crimson masked face giving them pause for thought for a moment. Watkins struggles to get up to his feet, and Requiem lends him a hand by clawing his face and dragging him up. The World champion gouges painfully at the eyes of Mad Dog Watkins, then heaves him up, twisting him around... tilt a whirl backbreaker! The fans pop in shock as Watkins is snapped over the knee and goes limp. Requiem goes for the pin: 1 - 2 - Dan Kauffman suddenly places Watkins leg over the bottom rope! The ref sees the leg, though not the misdeed that placed it, and stops the count. Loud jeers from the Generation Generation, scattered cheers from the rest of the fans. Requiem gets up to his feet with a black look of rage on his face; he's well aware of what's going on. He stares at the ref balefully before turning his attention to ringside, simply pointing at Dan Kauffman with an outstretched arm and fixing him with a frightening glare. The Old Gen stars pay no attention and exchange high fives.] TD: That was very uncharacteristic of Dan Kauffman. I'm very     disappointed in him. SR: Maybe he learned a thing or two in those hick "loop" federations.     They're all a bunch of backstabbers and chicken feed squabblers over     there, from what I hear. [Watkins gets painfully to his feet and approaches Requiem from behind, who is still fixated on Dan Kauffman at this point. As the Mad Dog lunges forward, Requiem is aided by seeming six sense, however, and blasts him with a back elbow. Mad Dog staggers back clutching his temple, and Requiem scoops him up, holding him in an inverse position, then driving his head forcefully into the mat with a tombstone piledriver! Watkins goes limp and lies spread-eagled on the mat. Requiem is not done with his tenacious foe yet, however, and runs to the ropes in preparation for something particularly devastating. Just as he bounds off the strands, however, Verhoeven leaps up onto the apron and drills a shot into the back of his head! Requiem staggers forward in pain and surprise, then whips around and takes a swipe at his German challenger. Otto, however, is well out of harms way and smirks at the glowering world champion.] TD: This is disgraceful! I'm no supporter of this pack of wolves called     Genesis, but all the Old Generation stars are doing now is sinking     to their level! The fans need solid role models to cheer for; all we     have here is gang warfare! SR: You're living in the mid-eighties, Drossy! Wake up to reality! The     fans dig this kind of stuff these days. Give 'im one for me, Otto! TD: Disgraceful. [Requiem turns his attention back to Mad Dog Watkins, who is struggling back up to his feet. Requiem immediately launches an assault, rocking his foe with combination punches. Watkins digs his heels in and attempts to retaliate, but with all the punishment he has absorbed, his blows come slow and unsteady. Requiem batters the Mad Dog into the corner, who grabs onto the top strands to avoid slipping down to the mat. Requiem backs up to the opposite end of the ring, comes charging forward, the ring actually shuddering under his massive steps, and launches himself into an avalanche splash! All 306lbs of Requiem plasters Mad Dog Watkins in the corner, shaking the ring and drawing an awed pop from the fans! Requiem backs up, and Mad Dog Watkins just totters out from the corner and falls face first towards the mat. Requiem lunges in, scoops the Intercontinental champion up and executes a gutwrench powerbomb, depositing him to the canvas with devastating velocity! Big Genesis Generation pop!] SR: Hot damn! He nearly put Mad Dog Watkins through the ring with that     bomb! TD: A victory for Requiem could be just moments away, folks, and you     really have to give him credit for his performance tonight. He     absorbed a tremendous amount of punishment from Watkins in the early     stages of the bout, then turned the tide despite constant     baiting from the Old Generation stars at ringside. Requiem has     proved himself to be a genuine tough guy in my book. [Requiem places his foot on the chest of the unconscious Mad Dog Watkins, and raises his fists to the air. Once again, the visage of his blood soaked, albinoid face, now marked with an expression of triumph, is a majestic one, reminiscent of ancient warlords rejoicing in battle. The ref puts on the count: 1 - 2 - Otto Verhoeven charges the ring, cutting Requiem down with a clothesline from behind! The ref signals for the bell: Ding! Ding! Ding!] TD: That was a dirty trick from Otto Verhoeven! Now Requiem will only     go home tonight with a DQ victory! SR: I tell ya what's necessary, it's the beating the Old Gens are about     to administer to Rectum! Look at this! [Tiger Claw, Casey James and somewhat more reluctantly, Dan Kauffman, enter the ring. Otto Verhoeven seizes hold of Requiem's throat, heaves him up into the air, and brings him crashing down over the knee in his slaughterslam backbreaker! Requiem falls limply down to the mat.] SR: That was great! Do it again, Otto! Put this moronic freak out of     action for good! TD: Unbelievable! Requiem is getting back up to his feet after that     Slaughterslam! He's sitting up! [The crowd pops in a frenzy as Requiem leaps up to his feet, facing up to the Old Gen wrestlers with a black look of rage on his face. He makes a lunge towards Otto Verhoeven, but suddenly Tiger Claw comes flying out of nowhere, off the top turnbuckle, smashing Requiem in the back of the head with his flying knee strike! Requiem lurches forward and drops down to this knees... then gets right back up again!] TD: Unbelievable! After all the punishment dished out to him by Mad Dog     Watkins, after Otto Verhoeven and Tiger Claw have hit him with their     devastating finishing maneuvers, Requiem is still standing! What     unearthly strength does this man possess? What in heck is keeping     him going right now, Steve Roberts? SR: It's freaking me out, Timbo! This guy should have been six feet     under by now! Casey James, do something goddammit! [The look on Requiem's face is terrible to behold as he lunges once more for Otto Verhoeven, the German backing off and staring wide-eyed in disbelief at the world champion's resiliency. Casey James steps forward... and blasts Requiem right in the chest with his Blackheart punch! Requiem staggers once again, clutching at his chest, and drops to his knees. Casey James darts in again with a sadistic grin, even his considerable bulk looking normal sized compared to the towering presence of Requiem, and goes to deliver a second Blackheart punch, this blow surely the one to end Requiem's stand. But... Dan Kauffman grabs Casey Jame's arm from behind and blocks the blow! The crowd pop in surprise! Casey whips around to Dan Kauffman, a confused look on his face, mouthing "What the hell are you doing, man?" Kauffman simply shakes his head, as if to say that Requiem has been punished enough already. Requiem ducks out of the ring during the altercation.] SR: What the hell is that idiot Kauffman doing! These guys have the     chance to put Requiem out for good, to win the war against the New     Generation, and Kauffman blew it! Where the hell do his loyalties     lie? TD: I guess Kauffman is just too much of an honourable guy to     participate in the gang warfare tactics Casey James makes his stock     in trade. Oh my goodness, here comes trouble... [Any potential tension between Casey James and Dan Kauffman is evaporated for now, as the forces of Genesis rush down to the ring! Highwayman, Scott Rogers, Serge Annis and Cold Spell, accompanied by Gabrielle, charge down to ringside and form a protective circle around their leader. Otto Verhoeven, never one for subtlety, yells like a madman, charges across the ring and dives out right into the midst of the Genesis throng, clotheslining Annis and Rogers down as he does so! The rest of Genesis, although scattered by the "Butcher's" suicidal charge, regroup and immediately set to work stomping Verhoeven into the arena floor. Casey James, Tiger Claw, Dan Kauffman, and even the recovering Mad Dog Watkins, bail from the ring and enter the fray. Ringside is immediately turned into a swelling mass of flailing bodies! The fans explode in a wild pop!] TD: Oh my goodness! What scenes of chaos we are witnessing here tonight!     All the tensions, all the anger, all the rivalries that have been     building in the IIWF are coming to a head right here, just one     week before Midsummer Madness! SR: This is what we've needed to see for a long time, Timbo! Just plain     out and out violence. Mayhemic warfare between guys that just can't     stand each other. What could be finer? [Casey James picks up a chair and uses it to lambast Edmund Fitzgerald, while Icehawk and Highwayman combine to send Tiger Claw flying into the steel crowd barriers! Mad Dog Watkins trades shots with Requiem once again, neither man able to gain a solid advantage. Dan Kauffman is having considerable difficulty fending off both Serge Annis and Scott Rogers, who combine to spike powerbomb him into the arena floor!] TD: This is just unbelievable mayhem! Look at Casey James ramming the     edge of that steel chair into the small of Requiem's back! Oh my     goodness! Highwayman just clotheslined him down from behind! SR: But best of all, Dan Kauffman is getting stomped into a pulpy mass     by Scott Rogers and Serge Annis down on the arena floor! [Mad Dog Watkins, wielding a second steel chair, manages to ward Rogers and Annis away from Kauffman, landing Annis a terrific shot to the roof of the skull, and blasting Scott Rogers hard in the guts. Requiem rolls around on the floor with his next challenger, Otto Verhoeven, kicking and biting. Casey James joins in, trying to get a good stomp in without hitting the "Butcher". Tiger Claw deposits Edmund Fitzgerald over the crowd barriers with a spinning heel kick. Suddenly, a huge combined squadron of security guards and the Jobber Justice squad storm ringside, trying in vain to restrain the combatants.] SR: Damn! Here come the party poopers! I doubt they'll be able to     restrain this carnage though. Ha! TD: I've never seen anything like this, Steve Roberts! It's just total     gang warfare down here; the bodies are flying everywhere! Can you     imagine how intense Midsummer Madness will be after this? Call your     cable operator now, folks! [Dan Kauffman is denting the face of Icehawk with his fists, but gets taken down by a pile of security guards. Otto Verhoeven bodily hurls security guards over the crowd barriers as they try to contain his rage. Gradually, the Jobber Justice Squad are able to extricate the furious figures of Otto Verhoeven, Casey James and Requiem, and but not before James knocks out a whole row of teeth from the mouth of Scott "the Whine" Bloom with a giant haymaker. After several more minutes of violent brawling, the security team is able to separate Mad Dog Watkins, Annis, Rogers and Cold Spell. Highwayman, however, manages to slip away from the carnage over to a ringside table, where he snatches up the Intercontinental belt of Mad Dog Watkins! Highwayman holds the belt aloft to the heel popping crowd, and then runs up the aisle with it, closely followed by Gabrielle, who has managed to stay clear of the brawling. Mad Dog Watkins notices what's going on, and tries to lunge after Highwayman, but he is restrained by the security team. He yells abuse, but Highwayman quickly disappears backstage.] TD: Thank goodness this chaos is over! The security team are herding     everybody backstage... SR: This is only a brief respite in the war, Timbo! The real battle is     gonna go down at Midsummer Madness, next Saturday night! [As the security team maneuvers the wrestlers backstage, Requiem and his opponent for Midsummer Madness, Otto Verhoeven, are moved dangerously close together. Otto scowls and spits right in the face of Requiem! The towering world champion gives vent to a deafening cry of rage and heaves against the security guards holding onto him, dragging them down in his wake, lunging at Otto Verhoeven! Almost simultaneously, the "Butcher" gives a might swing of his massive arms, hurling his restrainers bodily away, and the challenger and the champion are getting it on right now! The crowd explodes in a frenzied pop!] SR: Look at the intensity of these guys! They're hitting each other with     shots hard enough to bust down castle walls! This is great! [Verhoeven and Requiem slam each other with titanic fists, the blows enough to send any normal man into a coma with one shot, but these guys aren't any normal men. Barely seeming to feel the pain, they forget all thought of defense and just try to make dents in each others heads and bodies. The rest of the Old Gen wrestlers and Genesis hurl insults at one another and threaten to break loose once again! A second squad of security guards charges down the aisle, piling on top of Requiem and Verhoeven, trying to restrain them with sheer weight of numbers, but it's not enough. All chaos breaks loose once again. One by one, the combatants break free and launch themselves at each other with abandon, every wrestler, security guard and jobber embroiling himself in the brawl, and in the centre of it all, the mammoth figures of Requiem and Otto Verhoeven slugging it out. Finally, some order is restored as the various factions are dragged away from ringside.] TD: This has been an absolutely chaotic scene, Steve Roberts.  It is obvious that tensions between the group called Genesis and the rest of the IIWF are at an all time high.  I don't know what we're going to see in this next matchup -- or what we're going to see at that big pay-per-view next week! SR: It's time to run these punks out of town, Dross.  We got a posse formed and it's time to begin the lynching -- I'm even gonna root for Kauffman tonight! TD: No you won't. SR: No, I won't... I hope Kauffman gets his guts stomped out and never steps foot in the IIWF Coliseum again... but if he could go ahead and pin El Sucko Rogers' shoulders to the mat first -- I wouldn't complain. TD: We have a developing situation... Mad Dog Watkins has apparently been ejected from the building, upon the full realization that the Highwayman, in fact, has taken possession of the Intercontinental Championship belt... Mad Dog Watkins apparently tore up the locker room with a ferocity rarely seen in the IIWF -- and he is no longer here tonight. SR: Oh, is there gonna be an ass kicking nerxt week, Dross.  You think Watkins put the boots to that punk Creed?  Oh -- the unfrozen caveman wrestler is gonna find out what pain is... that's if he even makes it to Midsummer Madness -- I gotta feeling, Dross.  I gotta feeling something is gonna go down tonight that is gonna change Midsummer Madness... and maybe change the whole face of the IIWF! TD: Let's get to the ring! ________ ______ | || |\ \ /\ / /| __|.................................................. | || | \ v v / | __| TEAM GENESIS: Highwayman, Scott Rogers, |_||_| \_/\_/ |_| Serge Annis & Cold Spell vs. TEAM OLD GEN: Otto Verhoeven, Dan Kauffman, Deathbringer & The Syndicate ....................................................................... WRITER: JJ [Sparkplug Lee gives a thumbs up to a sign which reads, "Hey, Nightwing - Borden Took Your Bird."  And now he takes the mic.] SL: Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is your _Main Event_ of the evening... Introducing first, at a total combined weight of thirteen hundred and eighty pounds... Scott Rogers, Highwayman, Edmund Fitzgerald, Icehawk and Serge Annis... they are accompanied down the aisle by the IIWF Heavyweight Champion of the World... Requiem... This... is... GENESIS! [Huge heel pop from the crowd as the lights dim, and the words of Requiem are heard, "From this day forth, until the end of time, there will be no mercy for the damned! "The Music For The Unknowingly Damned" plays loudly as Genesis begins its walk down the aislem, led by Scott Rogers, posing for the camera, blowing it a kiss as he is followed by the Highwayman, who carries the IIWF Intercontinental Championship belt high in the air.  They are followed by Cold Spell, their own Tag Team belts fastened securely to their waists... Icehawk shaking his head in seeming amazement as the sheer depth of the loathing the fans seem to have for he and his stablemates.  Then comes Annis, Serge motioning to the camera... and showing his new t-shirt... sporting a picture of the Deathbringer with a smiley face now painted on... Trailing the group by several feet is the Heavyweight Champion, Requiem moving very slowly, the physical toll of the attack by the "Old Generation" following the last match still evident.] TD: The hatred that this group generates is astounding, Steve Roberts... can you ever recall a time where everyone in the IIWF, literally every single man, disliked a group as much as they do this collection called Genesis? SR: Absolutely not, Dross.  The Syndicate was hated -- but they were respected as well... they were feared, you never knew what they were going to do.  But... there's no respect for Culture Club... just loathing -- the Old Gen guys know Boy Requiem and his Merry Men don't have what it takes to carry the banner of the Double Eye -- and they are gonna prove it tonight! TD: I am actually surprised that Requiem has arrived at ringside with his stablemates, Steve Roberts. We saw him take quite a beating not twenty minutes ago right here in this ring. SR: Don't underestimate that guy, Dross.  Dislike Requiem... make fun of him... think of him the way you might think of a matted glump of greasy hair that might be clogging up your sink... but don't ever underestimate the man who wears the IIWF World Championship Belt -- I don't care what his name is. [Genesis stands in the ring, Annis setting fire to the Deathbringer t-shirt, and drawing a rejuvinated heel pop as the theme from "Halloween" begins and the crowd roar increases a noticeable notch.] SL: And their opponents... at a combined weight of eleven hundred and eighty pounds, Otto Verhoeven, Casey James, Tiger Claw and Dan "Flash" Kauffman... this is the OLD IIWF GENERATION! [Huge pop by the Portland crowd... the "I-I-W-F!" chants begin to resonate throughout the arena... each of these four former champions, three of whom former World Champions, the fourth a three-time Intercontinental title holder, enter the ring.  Instantly the two groups face off as the crowd seems prepared to explode, James and Claw immediately graviate toward Cold Spell... Rogers and the Highwayman surround Dan Kauffman -- while Otto Verhoeven points purposely at the Highwayman... and at the Champion himself.] TD: You notice immediately that the Deathbringer is not here... we did not see him earlier on, and he is still not here. We have had some conflicting reports -- we don't know if this is a no-show... or if Deathbringer was pulled out of this match at the last minute by IIWF executives, who feared the result of an altercation between he and Serge Annis, based on Annis' actions of this past Wednesday. SR: Well, he oughta be here, Dross.  One way or the other, he oughta be here.  We're looking right now at a six on four, Dross.  Even before this thing gets started.  You know that Requiem is gonna get involved... and really it's six on three -- cause Dan Kauffman hasn't been in a real wrestling ring since Ring Wars -- you know he's gonna have no game.  It is basically Otto and the Syndicate against six guys, Dross.  Six on three... and you know what... you know what... Those punks are still outnumbered!  [Head official Earl Alfonso takes a deep breath and then waggles two index fingers, indicating that he wants only two men in the ring. Genesis is clearly prepared... the Highwayman taking up position in the ring, waiting for the "Old Gen" to select... Ding! Ding! Ding!] TD: We are set to go, right here... it looks like it will be Otto Verhoeven... it will be Highwayman... Genesis vs. the Old Gen... it has been much talked about and it is about to explode... right now! [Verhoeven and Highwayman lockup, Otto grabbing a standing side headlock and Highwayman executing a quick go-behind.  Verhoeven runs to the ropes, grabbing the top and sending Highway backward.  The Highwayman charges with a clothesline that Verhoeven slips, Otto grabbing a waistlock -- standing switch -- and the Highwayman sends him over the top with a released German suplex!  Big heel pop!  Verhoeven hops immediately to his feet, charging with a clothesline that ROCKS Highwayman to the canvas!  Big Big Pop!] TD: That's what the Butcher will do to you, Steve Roberts, he has an amazing ability to take a blow..and then come back with one of his own. Is that the kind of fortitude that it will take at Midsummer Madness to take the belt from Requiem? SR: That's why you love the German man, Dross.  He is gonna be covered in wa-wa after next Saturday Night! [Verhoeven stomps at the head of the Englishman, then bounces off the nearside for a big legdrop... missed! Highwayman rolls to the corner, tagging in Annis, who comes hard at the now rising Otto, catching him with a knee lift and then Irish whipping the Butcher into a big backdrop!  Pop! Annis then charges the Old Gen corner -- popping off right hands at James and then Claw before the official dives to break them up.  Rogers and Highwayman each enter as the official is tied up, putting the boots to Otto, really laying into the Butcher as Icehawk climbs the top rope -- and comes down with a frog splash on Otto!!] TD: Genesis smartly pressing the early advantage... you can't admire those tactics, but you have to appreciate their effectiveness.  But these IIWF fans are really disappointed in Icehawk! [The "boos" increase to a wild level as Icehawk doesn't exit the ring, furiously kicking at the "Butcher". Icehawk now drops to the mat... and appears to be _biting_ Verhoeven... completely ignoring his teammates as they attempt to get him from the ring.  Earl Alfonso now turns around, seeing the illegal man and attempts to force him from the ring... James, seizing the opportunity, enters and drags Otto to the corner, where he is able to tag out to the "Blackheart" as the crowd roar increases.] TD: Icehawk costs Genesis there -- almost getting disqualified.  What could possibly be going through that young man's mind? SR: The gay guy's nuts, flat out.  I understand these things, I saw "Cruisin'". TD: Will you stop?  I believe it may have something to do with the "Butcher's" attack on Gabrielle last week -- you'll note that neither she nor Heidi is here at ringside this week... both women suffered some injury at that contract signing.  Icehawk is maybe the most... high strung... member of Genesis -- and his anger at Otto just cost his team right there.  [James stands in the ring as the crowd pops... on the apron... Rogers is yelling to Serge, "Me! Me!"... James raises an eyebrow, spreading his arms wide and then motioning for Rogers to come on in.  Serge makes the tag and it is Scott Rogers, Rogers walking up to James... and Rogers shooting a big double bicep!  Rogers points at his massive guns, laughingly challenging the former IIWF Champion to attempt to match him.  James looks back at Claw, smiling broadly at his partner and mentor -- and then returns to Rogers... and kicks him square in the midsection!  Pop! James quickly follows up with a swinging neckbreaker that rattles Rogers to the canvas, then stands above the young Rogers, James now flashing a big double bicep as the crowd roars "Black-heart! Black-heart! Black-heart!"] SR: Hah!  Hah!  Hah!  Hah!  This is more fun that a barrel full of Quigleys heading over Niagara Falls! [Rogers gets to his feet, more embarrassed than injured, locking up with James sharply. Rogers goes behind... grabbing a 3/4 nelson and easily slamming the 340 pound Blackheart to the mat!  Pop!  Rogers picks James up again... whipping him nearside and missing a big boot, James comes on the pass with an attempt at a flying forearm... but Rogers catches him with a remarkable standing dropkick flush on the jaw that leads to the cover... 1 -- 2 -- NO!] TD: Scott Rogers is showing that he is not someone to be trifled with, Steve Roberts... Rogers really showing a little bit of power here against the former Champion. SR: El Sucko's big, Dross, but the guy's half a dozen braincells away from being a chickpea -- there's only so long before he'll do something Sucko-like. [Rogers picks up James again... but Casey is waiting, firing up with a chop to the throat and then taking the big bodybuilder down with a dragon screw legwhip.  James hooks on a modified grapevine, moving his massive leg around that of Rogers -- and then James reaches backward to that Claw... Tiger Claw climbs to the top rope,  coming down onto Rogers exposed thigh with a top rope knee drop, smacking down and keeping the momentum into a springboard off the other side, hitting the ropes as James whips Rogers... right into a spinning elbowsmash by Claw!  Big Big Pop!] TD: Now... there is a tag team, Steve Roberts. The Syndicate have really honed their tag skills over the past couple of months... and now show some deft double team maneuvers against Scott Rogers. SR: These ain't novices, Dross. We are talking about wrestling royalty -- when you have men llike Claw, James and the Butcher on the same side, that's a force like nothing the IIWF's ever seen. [James exits as Claw applies a cross arm scissors, Claw sharply constraining the powerful Rogers... and just as the bodybuilder was beginning to demonstrate his superior strength, Claw tags James again, Casey in with a boot to the face... and then grabs an armbar, allowing a thrustkick by Claw before he exits.  James locks the knuckle and wrings the arm... taking a shot at the exposed middle of Rogers, before whipping him nearside... James charges...] TD: OH MY!  It's Requiem!  Requiem pulls the ropes... and James flies to the outside! SR: Watch this... look at Fitzgerald!  Damn, these guys know what they're doing. [As the Old Gen attempts to move to Casey's aid, Fitzgerald charges across the ring in an almost kamikaze mission, Fitzgerald caught by Verhoeven and Kauffman in a rain of right hands... the official moves to break it up -- Allowing Highwayman to go to the outside with Requiem, who is slathering into James with a series of boots.  The men pick the ex-champion into the air... propping him up on their shoulders as Annis moves up... to the top... rope... Huge Heel Pop!] TD: OH MY!  OH MY!  Oh that is bad... that is bad... Serge with the flying clothesline and James goes off flying into the retaining barrier! Oh... Oh My! SR: What the hell was that, Dross?  Triple team on the outside?  What kind of sick, depraved people would do something like that? [James thunders hard off the shoulders of Requiem and Highwayman... struck down by the Annis clothesline -- and is quickly then dumped over the top rope for the waiting Scott Rogers... the official now able to get Fitzgerald -- who was beaten soundly by the unsuspecting Butcher and Kauffman -- out of the ring. Rogers walks over to James... kicking at the ex-champion... slowly kicking at him in the ring... now picking him to his feet... Rogers grabbing at James -- and smacking the former Champion!  The heel pop is wild as Rogers slaps James again... and again... and again. Rogers places Casey's left arm behind his head... Rogers winding up for his own version of the Blackheart Punch...] TD: Boot to the groin!  Boot to the groin!  Casey James just kicked Scott Rogers way, way down below the Mason-Dixon line! SR: Casey's gotta make the tag... Hot Tag... Hot Tag! [The crowd stands as James crawls his way... James crawling to the corner -- and the roar threatens to bring down the Coliseum as the near man... the close man is...] TD: Kauffman!  We're finally gonna see Dan Kauffman!  Casey James is gonna tag... OH MY! [As James just reached the corner... the roar turns to shock as Kauffman is pulled off the apron... by Luke Steele!  Steele grabbing at Kauffman and laying into the former Champion with right hands.  Kauffman battles back -- roaring away at Steele with right hands of his own... the two men brawling on the outside until security enters to grab the furious Steele and lead him away, the crowd now violent in its reaction to the "Real Deal". James' attempt to tag goes unanswered, and as Claw and Otto try to make their way into the ring to save him, they are cut off by the official, alllowing all five members of Genesis now to hop into the ring and pound away at Casey James!] TD: A horrible break for the Old Generation... Casey James was just about to make the tag to the fresh Kauffman... but from nowhere, Luke Steele drags Dan from the apron -- and James again is in no-man's land! SR: That ain't no accident!  Kauffman's gotta be there for the tag! Why wasn't he there, Dross?  Why wasn't Dan Kauffman there?  And why hasn't he been in the ring yet?  I think Dan Kauffman's sold out, Dross! I think he has sold out the IIWF again!  I think he's Genesis!  Dan Kauffman is Genesis! [Alfonso finally is able to break up the onslaught... it is now the Highwayman who assumes the role of legal man, the Highwayman stomping away at James... then whipping him hard into a powerslam and another cover... 1 -- 2 -- NO!  Kickout by James!  Highwayman whips hard again... grabbing a side suplex and a... 1 -- 2 -- NO! Another kickout! Highwayman again... whipping hard and grabbing for a front facelock, which James reverses...] TD: DDT!  DDT!  Casey James with a DDT -- and you have got to admire the heart of this champion... James going back now... back to the corner -- and tagging the Butcher!  Hot Tag to Otto Verhoeven! [Verhoeven enters fast, knocking Highwayman down with a right hand... Rogers enters -- and he goes down!  Annis enters -- down with a right hand!  Fitzgerald enters... down with a right hand... Icehawk hits the ring -- and is picked up into a gorilla press by Verhoeven!  Otto with the gorilla press of Icehawk -- and he tossses him to the outside where he is caught by Requiem!  Big Butcher Pop!] TD: Otto Verhoeven has just pulled a Hazel, Steve Roberts... he has just cleaned house! SR: Something's going on... look on the outside, Dross!  Look on the outside! [Casey James, stewing on the apron since he was able to tag out... hops down... and is leaving ringside! Casey James shakes his head, pointing in the direction of Dan Kauffman -- and begins to make his way up the aisle! The shocked crowd begins to boo loudly, runs into the aisle, grabbing at James, Claw speaking intently to the "Blackheart"... but James shakes his head -- James pointing up at Dan Kauffman and shaking his head. Claw looks clearly frustrated... and turns to walk back to the ring -- while James exits the arena!] TD: I don't understand how Casey James could turn his back on his teammates like this... on Claw... on the IIWF.  Why would he do it? SR: It's that Kauffman, Dross.  It's that damn, dirty Kauffman.  He left James to take that beating!  Why should James stand with Kauffman?  TD: But now it is five... or six men to three, Steve Roberts.  No Deathbringer... No James -- and Genesis is at full strength! [Every man in the match stands silently, stunned as James departs.  Each team now gravitates to the corner... the Highwayman tagging in Fitzgerald, one-half of the tag team champions entering the ring... And Otto tags in Dan Kauffman!  Big Big Pop!] TD: Listen to these people!  Listen to the roar! Dan Kauffman is back... back in the IIWF!  Listen to the incredible reaction of these fans! [The "Kauff-man! Kauff-man! Kauff-man!" roar is tumultuous... as the former IIWF Heavyweight Champion enters the ring.  Kauffman and Fitz lock up collar and elbow, Kauffman establishing a side headlock... which Fitz turns into a hammerlock with a go-behind -- standing switch -- Kauffman with the hammerlock, ducking a back elbow and then taking Fitz over with a hiplock.  Kauffman looks for a reverse chinlock, wrenching the neck as he places a knee in the lumbar region... Kauffman wrenching back on Fitz, who attempts a front counter, trying to whirl his legs back -- but Kauffman blunts the escape attempt with a shift of his weight, subtle, but effective.  Fitzgerald looks to maneuver himself backside, grabbing up to Kauffman's hair in an attempt to buy some leverage -- Kauffman allows the rise, each man moving to his feet, Kauffman moving so the two men are back-to-back and it's the ex-champ with a backslide and a cover... 1 -- 2 -- NO!  Kickout by Fitz!] TD: Ring generalship, that's what you get with a true craftsman like Dan Kauffman -- he is a man who, quite simply, can do it all in the ring. SR: I love you like a brother, Dross... but I am gonna tear your head clean from your shoulders if you keep with the Kauffman talk.  He sucks... his daddy sucks -- and I damn sure know his momma... TD: Steve Roberts! [Fitzgerald scrambles for a tag, his partner Icehawk making his way in -- the 'Hawk ducks under a Kauffman clothesline -- leaping to the center of the top rope... and then leaping to Kauffman's neck for an attempt at at hurricanrana...] TD: Powerbomb!  Powerbomb!  Dan Kauffman countering the hurricanrana with a powerbomb -- and he's got the pinfall attempt! [Kauffman presses down... leaning out over the fallen form of Icehawk -- but leaning too far -- right into the Genesis corner where he is grabbed around the neck -- and hit with a hotshot by Scott Rogers!  Big Heel Pop! Kauffman falls to the mat, clutching at his throat, while the official reprimands Rogers.  Highwyman and Annis enter, each man lifting Kauffman up -- and dropping his neck again over the tope rope.  Double hotshot!] TD: Oh... Oh... now the numbers are starting to take effect... Now we really see the numbers, Steve Roberts.  Tiger Claw is entering for the save -- but he is nailed by Fitzgerald... and Icehawk is going to the top rope!  Icehawk is going to the top rope... Arctic Blast!  Cold Spell hits the Arctic Blast on Tiger Claw!!  [Verhoeven now enters... all eight men in the ring, Verhoeven grabbing at Fitzgerald and tossing him away from Claw... Verhoeven grabbing Icehawk... around the neck! Icehawk grabbed around the neck -- and Otto is nailed by a simultaneous legsweep by Rogers and spin kick by Highwayman!  Big, Big Pop!  Rogers and the Highwayman then lift Otto together... together into the air and dropping him down with a double powerbomb!  A double powerbomb!  Big Genesis Pop!] TD: Oh... Oh... the old generation may have been totally eliminated with that one... Otto is down... Claw is down... Kauffman is about to be sent down by Annis... he's got him for the... chokeslam! [Serge lifts Kauffman high into the air... sweeping his legs away while in mid-air -- and drives the ex-champ hard to the canvas with a devastating chokeslam!  Huge heel Pop! Serge looks for Fitz... motions him for the cover... and Edmund does... Fitzgerald covering Kauffman for a... 1 -- 2 -- ] TD: NO!  NO!  Dan Kauffman kicks out!  Back to back hotshots and a huge chokeslam... and Dan Kauffman has kicked out! [The chants of "Old Gen! Old Gen! Old Gen!" rise as Kauffman now struggles to his knees, Fitzgerald tagging out to Annis, whose frustration level is evident.  Kauffman looks to his corner -- but neither Verhoeven nor Claw is standing.  Annis pounds away at Kauffman with clubbing forearms... Annis beating Kauffman down, down, down to the ground. Annis bounces off the backropes with a big legdrop... and connects! 1 -- 2 -- NO!  Kickout by Kauffman!  Annis picks Kauffman up... hitting him with a titl-a-whirl backbreaker... and then another cover... 1 -- 2 -- NO!  Annis smacks the mat... the crowd, each and every man of the 20,000+ plus standing... most chanting "Kauff-man! Kauff-man!" as Annis now holds Kauffman in a huge bear hug.  Annis attempting to squeeze the very life out of the former champion.] TD: This is unbelievable!  Dan Kauffman... Dan Kauffman is fighting each of these men... he has been left to fight each of these men, this Genesis alone... but now he is being squeezed out! SR: Dross! Dross!  Dross! Look in the aisle!  Look in the aisle! TD: It's... It's... It's Billy Shakespeare and Marty Warnett! It's Billy Shakespeare and Marty Warnett!  [The crowd pops wildly as Shakespeare and Warnett make their way slowly into the aisle, the "I-I-W-F!" chant welling up in the arena, Shakespeare and Warnett reach the middle of the aisle -- and they are struck down by Ronnie Paris!  Paris comes flying from the back with a double cross-body, taking out both Warnett and Shakespeare!  Paris starts ripping awawy with right hands on Shakespeare -- Warnett begins firing back... and now both men are attacking Ronnie Paris!] TD: Oh... Oh... this thing is gonna break down... this thing is gonna break down right now! [Annis continues the pressure to the back of Kauffman... neither Verhoeven or Claw showing even the slightest inclination that they will stir.  The Phoenix and Chris Quigley have entered the aisle... the Phoenix attempting to draw Shakespeare and Paris apart... and taking a shot from each of them for his trouble!  The Phoenix now firing away at both Paris and at Shakespeare... Warnett spies Quigley -- and dives at him, Warnett and Quigley rolling around at the top of the aisle. The official raises Dan Kauffman's hand... dropping it for a count of ... 1!] TD: This is chaotic... chaotic... here comes the Cruiserweight Champion! Here comes Derek Mota! [Mota runs down to the ring -- pointing at Requiem, waving his Cruiserweight title belt at Requiem -- but he is nailed from behind by a chair weilding Simon Lebec!  Lebec drops Mota... and now it's Lebec who moves on Requiem -- Scott Rogers jumps from the apron and yells at the "Showstopper" -- but Dirt Dog Unque Allah gets to him first!  Unique flying down with a trash can that drops Lebec like a shot... and now he and Mota begin trading shots...] TD: Here comes the Age of the Rage!  It's Starks... It's Shadoe... it's Derek... and they are taking shots at everyone they can find! [The official drops Kauffman's arm again... 2... The Rages sweep into the aisle... taking shots at Shakespeare... Quigley... Lebec... before being hit from the side by LFD! LFD attacks the Prophets of Rage -- Reggie Star swinging a chair wildly and connecting... Starks begins to fight off each of them -- but is hit in the back by Macbeth and Turner!  Macbeth and Turner reaching the aisle... which has become a pile of humanity... a swarm of IIWF superstars, each taking shots at the others in a nonsanctioned, non-signed... hell, non-planned aisleway street fight battle royal! The official moves to drop Kauffman's arm again...] TD: NO!  NO!  Kauffman's arm doesn't drop... Kauffman's arm doesn't drop!  OH MY! [Annis sends Kauffman screaming to the canvas with a thumping belly-to-belly suplex and the official begins a count... 1 -- 2 -- ] TD: Someone... it's... it's... I... [The crowd pop intensifies as from the carnage in the aisle comes a man in a "Masked Outlaw" mask and a long trenchcoat...] TD: NO!  Kauffman just gets a shoulder up!  He just does get a shoulder up!  And Casey James is back!  James is back on the apron... and he wants the tag! SR: That's not James... It's J.W. Hardin! TD: No it is not!  That is Casey James... and he is back to fight for the Old IIWF Generation! [The crowd begins to stomp and clap... Annis slowly picking Kauffman to his feet... Annis picking Kauffman to his feet and whipping him nearside -- caught --  Huge Face Pop!] TD: Powerplant Spinebuster!  Powerplant Spinebuster!  Dan Kauffman is going to _make_that_tag_! [The cheers are deafening: "I-I-W-F! I-I-W-F!" Kauffman crawls to his corner as Annis lies motionless in the middle of the ring... Kauffman is able to make it to his knees and reach out a hand...] TD: Yes!  Yes! Casey James is in! [The man in the "Maksed Outlaw" mask enters... the roar wild as the mentioned IIWF superstars seem almost... almost to suspend the intense, out of control outside brawl for a moment as the "Masked Outlaw" hits the ring, Kauffman moving to his feet as the two pass...] TD: CATTLE BUSTER DDT!  CATTLE BUSTER DDT! Casey James... Casey James just hit Dan Kauffman with the Cattle Buster DDT! [The crowd chant stops dead -- every jaw in the arena seeming to hit the floor as the "Masked Outlaw" picks Kauffman to his feet... places his arm behind his head....] TD: BLACKHEART PUNCH! BLACKHEART PUNCH! [Kauffman drops like a shot to the canvas... the man in the mask slowly exiting the ring as Serge is just able to lift up an arm... plopping it over the form of the ex-champion for a 1 -- 2 -- ] TD: THREE!  THREE!  GENESIS WINS! GENESIS WINS! ["The Music For The Unknowingly Damned" plays as the crowd sits in a momentary silence, almost not comprehending as Requiem and Genesis hit the ring.] SL: Your winners... as a result of a pinfall... GENESIS! [The "boos" are now tumultuous... debris begins to rain down into the ring as Requiem tosses the prone Kauffman from the ring... the ringside and aisleway IIWF superstars resume their combat... the "Masked Outlaw" slowly making his way from the ring as the clealry understood chant now rings out from every nook and cranny of the Coliseum... "YOU-SOLD-OUT! YOU-SOLD-OUT!"] TD: A shocking... a shocking turn of events... here on IIWF Saturday Night... Casey James has apparently attacked Dan Kauffman -- allowing Genesis... that's right, Genesis, to defeat the Old IIWF Generation.  And this scene is utterly chaotic... there are a dozen... more than a dozen IIWF superstars brawling in the Coliseum... I cannot believe what I just saw! SR: This is... I'm speechless, Dross.  I'm absolutely speechless. TD: One week away, folks.  One week away from Midsummer Madness!  How many more lives does Genesis have?  Tune into "Inside the IIWF" -- your Tuesday Showcase for all the latest, breaking news -- we are out of time... One week away -- Midsummer Madness! [Genesis stands in the middle of the ring, four IIWF Championship belts aloft, seeming to welcome the debris... as they stand high above the carnage of the Coliseum... superstar vs. superstar... each man tearing at another as we again see the "Masked Outlaw"... surveying the chaos from the top of the aisle as the shot fades.] +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= 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 -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=+