[Sting's "It's Probably Me" plays gently underneath a shot of the darkened IIWF Coliseum, the voice of veteran IIWF commentator Tim Dross is then heard as the camera slowly sweeps across the arena:] TD: From the dawn of time, Nature has been the battlefield for the ultimate struggle... that between the darkness and the light -- between fear and hope -- between good... and evil. [Cut to a black and white still of the face off on IIWF Saturday Night between Genesis and Team Old Gen:] TD: Men who rise to the challenge, who test the depths of their very souls in the fire of the battle and are found to be brave, valiant and true will be forever revered... and be called Champion. [Cut to a shot of the Outlaw J.W. Hardin, holding the IIWF Heavyweight Championship belt aloft... then to Billy Shakespeare, a look of incredulity in his eyes as he is handed the Intercontinental Championship belt... then to Steve "The Fury" Kowalski, the bloody IIWF gauntlet in one hand and the IIWF Cruiserweight Championship belt in the other.] TD: Those whose aim is less than true... who are but a fraction of a second slow... a whisper of a moment unfocused... whose hearts on one day are but one beat slower than that of the warrior... are lost... and relegated to the dustbin of history. [Cut to Dan Kauffman, submitting to Chris Quigley at Ring Wars 3... then to Lord Byron, walking from the Birthday Bash ring after his "Loser Leaves Town" defeat at the hands of Creed... and then to Creed himself, a superbomb victim of his rival turned mentor turned betrayor Mad Dog Watkins.] TD: The battle rages on eternal.  Wherever there is opportunity... there will be conflict.  Wherever there is power... there will be struggle. Wherever there are men... [Cut to a shot of IIWF World Heavyweight Champion, Requiem...] TD: ...there will be war. [And then a shot of Otto "The Butcher" Verhoeven.] TD: This is the IIWF. This is Midsummer Madness. [The shot and the music fade as the opening titles explode onto the screen...] ________ ______ | || |\ \ /\ / /| __| | || | \ v v / | __| |_||_| \_/\_/ |_| ___ _________ ___ _______ ______ _______ ____ | \/ || || \/ __\| | | \/ || \/ | __\| _ \ | \ / || || \ \__ \| | | \ / || \ / | __\| / | |\/| || || / /__\ \ v | |\/| || |\/| | |__| \ \ |_| |_||_||__/\____/\_/|_| |_||_| |_|____\_|\_\ ___ ______ __ ___ ____ ___ ___ | \/ || \ | \ | \ | __\/ __\ / __\ | \ / || \ \ | \ \| \ \| __\\__ \ \__ \ | |\/| || |\ \| / /| | || |_____\ \___\ \ |_| |_||_| \_\__/ |_|_||____\____/\____/ Saturday 6 September 1997 + IIWF Coliseum ----------------------------------------- H O U R O N E [Fade through to interior shots of the jam-packed IIWF Coliseum. Twenty thousand fans line the stands, many decked out in IIWF merchandise or as lookalikes of their favourite superstar, and many more waving home-made signs. The shot pans down past row upon row of cheering faces, the excitement almost palpable as suddenly a huge volley of fireworks erupts above the ring, rockets shooting down to the four corner posts and apparently triggering four huge explosions of sparks from the posts, almost completely obscuring the ring in their brilliant light. Huge, huge pop! Over these scenes comes the voice of veteran announcer Tim Dross:] TD: Welcome everybody to downtown Portland, Oregon! Welcome everybody to the jam-packed IIWF Coliseum! Welcome to the biggest show of the summer! Welcome... to Midsummer Madness! [The shot cuts between various angles showing the exuberance of the capacity crowd, before cutting to the broadcast table at ringside, in front of which stand Tim Dross and "Soundbite" Steve Roberts, both bedecked in tuxedos, although Roberts is wearing a somewhat colourful bow tie and cummerbund ensemble.] TD: We are currently broadcasting to the whole of the United States on pay-per-view, and to the United Kingdom, Germany, Japan and many other countries around the globe. Along with the twenty thousand fans here in attendance tonight, millions more worldwide are watching this incredible event! Folks, I'm Tim Dross, and beside me, as always, is "Soundbite" Steve Roberts. SR: And you know why all the morons across the world are watching, Dross? Do you know what it is that has made them part with their hard-earned wa-wa? TD: The promise of three phenomenal hours of action? SR: Guess again, Dross -- it's because later on, right here tonight, the Soundbite is gonna get his very own porn star! Whoo-hoo! TD: Well, that remains to be seen, Steve Roberts. One thing we can be sure of, however, is that we are going to see action quite unlike any other event in history here tonight. We will see four tremendous Midsummer Madness elimination matches, we will see two Championship matches, we will see a Falls Count Anywhere brawl, and in just a few moments, we'll be kicking off the show with the first ever Triple Threat match for the Cruiserweight Championship. What a night it's going to be! SR: Yeah, yeah, Dross, you give the morons at home the hard sell. The fact is that, second, of course, to my porn star, the real reason people have forked out their greenbacks to see this event is to see the downfall of Culture Club, and the IIWF World Heavyweight Championship restored to its former glory around the waist of Otto "the Butcher" Verhoeven! TD: We have an incredible double main event here tonight, folks, the culmination of what has been an absolute war in the IIWF in the weeks since Coronation Clash back in July, when Requiem astounded the wrestling world by capturing the IIWF World title. Never before has the IIWF been so united behind a cause -- just last week, we saw the most decorated men in IIWF history -- the two longest-reigning IIWF World Champions, Casey James and Dan Kauffman, another former World Champion, and the man who will face Requiem tonight, Otto Verhoeven, and three-time former Intercontinental Champion, Tiger Claw -- team up to face the forces of Genesis. SR: I never thought I'd see the day that the Syndicate stood in the same corner as Dan Kauffman, Dross. TD: Indeed not -- although the partnership that seemed too good to be true turned out to be just that, as Casey James, once again under the guise of Hall of Famer the "Outlaw" J.W. Hardin, administered a Cattlebuster DDT on Kauffman, costing his team the match. SR: It wasn't Casey James, Dross -- it was Hardin! It was the "Outlaw" himself! He's back, Dross, and he's angry. TD: Steve Roberts, we all saw Casey James leave ringside and return a few minutes later, wearing a mask, cowboy hat and long coat -- we all saw it, Steve. SR: Believe what you like, Dross, but sooner or later, you're going to get the shock of your life! TD: Perhaps it will be Genesis getting the shock of their lives here tonight, when they take on another five-man strike force in one half of our double main event. IIWF Intercontinental Champion Mad Dog Watkins and the Syndicate, along with two mystery partners... SR: I know who they are, Dross. TD: ...two mystery partners, will take on Scott Rogers, the Highwayman, Serge Annis and IIWF World Tag Team Champions Cold Spell in a very unique elimination match. The Highwayman stole Watkins' IC belt last week in the aftermath of that huge ten-man tag, and tonight, he has vowed he will only return it if Watkins manages to pin him or force him to submit in the match. Likewise, should the Highwayman eliminate Watkins by pinfall or submission, he will become the Intercontinental Champion! SR: Which ain't gonna happen, Dross. TD: Last week, the Syndicate also issued a challenge to Cold Spell -- that if Mad Dog's IC belt was to be on the line, so too would their tag team gold be up for grabs. So tonight, if either Casey James or Tiger Claw eliminates either Icehawk or Fitz by pinfall or submission, we will see new IIWF World Tag Team Champions! Throw in those two mystery partners, and this match promises to be one of the most unpredictable we have ever seen. SR: Dammit, Dross, ask me who the mystery partners are. TD: Why would I want to do that, Steve? You'll simply tell me to wait and see. SR: Now that's where you're wrong, Dross. Had you asked me, I would have told you, and all those morons out in TV-land, just who we will see standing in the corner with Mad Dog Watkins and the Syndicate... but since you're clearly not interested, I guess they'll have to stay a mystery until they're announced. TD: Indeed. Folks, in the other half of the double main event, we will see a real donneybrook -- IIWF World Heavyweight Champion, and leader of Genesis, Requiem, will do battle with Otto "the Butcher" Verhoeven... with "Sychosys" Joe Petrow, the man who has claimed to be the "Franchise" of the IIWF since Coronation Clash, as special guest referee! Who knows what we're going to see in this match! SR: I'll tell you what we're gonna see, Dross. We're gonna see Boy Rectum get his ass Slaughterslammed back to the Warner Brothers cartoon studios -- and for the first time since ol' Blackheart was screwed out of the title two months ago, we'll have a champion we can all be proud of. TD: We certainly could see the first ever two-time IIWF World Champion crowned here tonight, folks. There's no love lost at all between Requiem and the Butcher -- Nurse Heidi, Verhoeven's fiancée, has been convalescing in hospital following a brutal attack from Gabrielle, Requiem's sister, and the rest of Genesis. You can be sure that Verhoeven will be out for revenge here tonight. SR: The only thing nagging at me, Dross, is Crazy Joe. Who knows what side of the fence he's going to land on? Who will have paid him the most -- Genesis, or Verhoeven? For the love of God, I hope the Butcher's cheque had the right number of zeros. TD: I don't believe Joe Petrow could be bought off, Steve Roberts. I believe he will officiate the match in whichever way he believes will best befit the circumstances. He certainly proved last week that he is more than familiar with even the most esoteric of the IIWF's rules and regulations. SR: The guy's a freak, Dross. Crazy, Crazy Joe. TD: Other stand-out encounters tonight include the grudge match between "Quickstrike" Chris Quigley and Marty Warnett. These two men have exchanged heated words, and tonight they will trade punches and holds. Throughout their numerous encounters, it has always seemed that Quigley just has the edge on Warnett, that he's just that little bit better... but Warnett will be pulling out all the stops tonight. SR: And it won't do him any good, Dross. Warnett was waffled by Brody Thunder with a chair last week -- from what I hear, he's barely able to walk, let alone wrestle. TD: Marty Warnett is certainly at an immediate disadvantage going into tonight's match, but he has a "never say die" attitude -- and he will give it all he's got. Other intriguing contests include the battle of the big men -- two five-man teams, each captained by the biggest men in the IIWF today: the 6'10" Deathbringer, and the seven foot plus Tonnage... what a match that will be. In addition, two men who have been unable to see eye to eye in recent weeks, Billy Shakespeare and Ronnie Paris, will be paired on the same team as they go up against a team featuring Kevin Christiansen and the Phoenix, with whom they teamed last week. Another unpredictable partnership is that of the Age of Rage -- Tony Starks and the Prophets of Rage -- being teamed with Ike Sampson, who was offered Rage membership, but has so far appeared ambivalent to the invitation. SR: What are you talking about, Dross? The kid's joined up with Starks and the Prophets -- the brothers have to stick together. TD: Please, Steve Roberts, let's have no racially insensitive comments tonight. Also on that team is the Subway Psycho, who shockingly returned to the IIWF just seven days ago. Together, the five men will be going up against Timothy N. Turner's team, including Duncan Macbeth, Luke Steele and Licensed for Devastation. Some of the IIWF's hottest properties right now are on that team -- it's going to be quite a match. SR: I'll tell you what's going to be quite a match, Dross -- Steve Kowalski kicking seven shades of snot out of Brody Thunder. TD: Indeed, we will see a Falls Count Anywhere brawl featuring another pair of men who have shared more than a little mutual dislike recently. Folks, we have three incredible hours of action coming your way -- so let's get straight to our first match. We are about to see the IIWF's first ever Triple Threat match, and it will be for the Cruiserweight Championship, currently held by the Canadian kamikaze, Derek Mota. He will be going up against the man whom he beat for the title, Dirt Dog Unique Allah, and the man who helped him to win that match, the number one contender, "Showstopper" Simon Lebec. It will be one fall to the finish, folks: all three men will be legal at all times, and the first man to pin either of his opponents, or force them to submit, will be the Cruiserweight Champion! There will be no disqualifications, and there will be no countouts -- this could be a show-stealer, Steve Roberts. SR: If you're looking for a show-stealer, wait until you see my porn star, Dross. TD: Good grief. Let's get up to... SR: [cutting in] Shut up, okay? Just shut up. Every match you shill like     crazy trying to sell the next damn Pay Per View. Well, this is the Pay Per View. This is Midsummer F'n Madness, it sells itself. Repeat after me: this is the Triple Threat match for the Cruiserweight Title. TD: This is the Triple Threat match for the Cruiserweight Title. SR: Very good... you just introduced the match as much as you needed to.     The people already paid to see this, they didn't fork over 30 bucks to hear you talk. TD: They paid to see the great action, right? SR: No, they paid to see my porn star. Show me the adult-film actress booty! ___ ___ | \/ |---------------------------------------------------------------. | \ /_|_ ___ IIWF CRUISERWEIGHT CHAMPIONSHIP TRIPLE THREAT MATCH: | | |\/|| \/ | Derek Mota [c] vs. Dirt Dog Unique Allah vs. | |_| || \ / | "Showstopper" Simon Lebec | | |\/| |---------------------------------------------------------' |_| |_| WRITER: JdW [Sparkplug Lee enters the ring to some very vocal support from a trio of college kids dressed up like the Sparkster, complete with sparkling powder blue tuxedos. We can tell they're college kids because they're actually drunk enough to dress up like Sparkplug Lee.] SL: Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Midsummer Madness! [Obligatory pop]     Are you ready, Portland? Are you ready, world? Because this match, to be fought under Triple Threat rules, is for the IIWF Cruiserweight Championship of the World! [Even bigger obligatory pop for the mention of a title match.] TD: [over headset] Would you care to review the rules for a Triple Threat match, Steve? SR: [over headset] No, I wouldn't. SL: Introducing first, he is your undisputed IIWF Cruiserweight champion, weighing in at 224 pounds, from Toronto, Ontario, Canada... The "Heatseeker" Derek Mota! ["Great Southern Trendkill" kicks up for the champion, driving large clusters of the fans into a frenzy, while others boo. Many of the anti-Genesis fans are cheering Mota just on principle as he walks towards the ring, his title held high above his head, but he also has a few genuine fans. Suddenly, three quick bursts of fireworks shoot up towards the roof from the top of the entranceway ramp, catching all but the champ by surprise.] TD: Whoa! What an entrance by Derek Mota! SR: I suppose so, Dross. I like Mota, he's a plucky little bastard, but     leave all this fireworks crap to the Warnetts. Hey, Dross, you ever     noticed Warnett starts with the same two letters as wanker? Or that     monotony sounds like monogamy? [Mota hands his gold to a ring attendant carefully, and heads to a corner to limber up as an already as limber as he gets Sparky launches into more intros.] SL: ...and his first challenger, hailing from Hollywood, and accompanied     to the ring by Francois and Miss Crystal, weighing in at 239 pounds, the "Showstopper" Simon Lebec! [Lebec walks through the curtains first, as might be expected from a man of his "stature", and at a respectful distance behind are Miss Crystal and the burly Francois.] TD: And here comes the number one contender, Steve Roberts. Just moments ago, Simon Lebec had some comments for us. [Cut to a split screen: on the right, live action of Lebec standing in front of his entourage, drinking in the hostile reception of the crowd; on the left, Lebec is shown in his locker room.] SL: TONIGHT! Tonight... the stuff that dreams are made of is ready for the big time, baby!  The big time... the prime time... the showtime!  After all is said and done, you'll be witnessing the crowning of a new champion... a cuter champion! I've done my time and paid my dues!  Now, it's time for me to get a chance to play!   Derek Mota, you pissed me off... literally! Unique Allah... you've been a like a lesion to me for a while now!  People are saying to me, "Simon... where's the gold?" I say to them in return,"It'll come when I want it!" And right now, I want it!  Boys, get ready for a war, 'cause you'll have to murder me to get the win! [Cut back to a normal shot of live action: Simon turns around to speak with one of them, but instead of opening his mouth does a double-take, and charges towards his employees. The two look uncertain of what to do, until they follow Lebec's eyes to the top of the entranceway, and see Pizzazz leaping off towards them for a Headwrecker. The two scramble to the sides as Lebec continues to move in, unfortunately putting himself into the line of fire.] SR: Lookout, Pizzazz! Oh good, something broke her fall. TD: That "something" was Simon Lebec, who certainly took that shot fairly roughly. He may be hurt already, and the match hasn't even started yet! SR: Damn, I love it when Dave D'Amato refs. Let 'em go, Dave-O! [Lebec isn't quite moving yet, but Francois still is so he runs in to remove Pizzazz, who's gathered her wits quickly and is pummeling Lebec with mildly effectual punches. Francois finally arrives on the scene and grabs the fiesty French femme fatale by the wrist and pulls her away from his boss. No sooner is he starting to hold her back from further attacks when the Prophets of Rage, led by Medusa, charge onto the scene. Shadoe and Derek make a beeline to save their beleagured co-manager, but Derek is cut off by a recouperating Lebec, who's getting pummeled with punches for his effort. Shadoe, meanwhile, is sneaking up on Francois as well as a seven footer can sneak, and is about to bring down a sledgehammer-like blow on the bodyguard's head. However, he's caught by surprise from...] TD: Derek Mota with a cross-body block! This is pandemonium and we     haven't even started yet! SR: Oh no, here comes the cavalry! Damn the JJS. Damn them to hell. TD: As opposed to damning them to... SR: Cleveland. Yup, sharing a room with Luke "Drunk as the Man of" Steele. [The JJS was already being deployed in full force, and one look at Ned Norton's face tells us that he knows it'll be a long night. Fortunately, the Squad has acted quickly for once, and as the battle is in its inital stages the scrubs are finding it much easier than usual to slip in between combattants and break things up. Francois is willingly backing off the lovely Pizzazz, well, not that willingly, but it's only taking a bit of cajoling from Bluto. Lebec is clutching at the back of his neck, which may be sore from Pizzazz's attempted Headwrecker gone awry, and therefore he's putting up little resistance either. Mota wisely starts to calm down when he sees the fun is over, and all calm quite a bit as the curtains open once more to reveal... Poutine Janois?] SR: What the hell is Frenchy doin' out here? TD: I have no idea, the fight was breaking up on its own. Maybe he just     wants to speed things up and get this match finally underway. We'll     find out soon enough, he's brought a microphone with him. [Everyone involved with the match, the JJS members, the legions of IIWF fans in the Coliseum and worldwide, all wait as Janois clears his throat. He then raises the mic to his face with painstaking lack of speed, until finally he's ready to speak.] PJ: Da IIWF Speshul Concerns Committee was concerned befoor da match that some situation like dis would 'appen, and da match would be marred wid outside interfering. Since da match 'as not offishally started yet, I 'ave decided to take da actions to pree-vent unfair endings to da title match. I know dis is a no-diskwalifications match, but da match ain't started yet! [Big pop as the fans see where this may be going.] Derefore, I deside dat the Profets of Rage, Pizzazz, Miss Cris-tal, Francois, and Madusa Rage will _all_ be banned from da ring! [Huge pop as the aforementioned six, and Lebec all start protesting at the same time. Mota just smiles at his good luck, while seven different men and women are trying to break past the human barrier of the JJS to register a complaint with the head of the Special Concerns Committee, but Janois isn't taking any visitors at the moment. Lebec finally turns around to head back to the ring as the JJS move to herd the now banned from ringside managers, valets et al from the aisle. Janois nods his head towards Sparkplug Lee, who surprisingly enough recognizes this as his cue and starts to get up from his seat.] SR: What? He can't do this! TD: He just did, Steve Roberts, and it was an excellent decision if I do     say so myself. The match will be an all-out war even without the     outside help, so why allow so much blatant interference? [Cut back to Sparky, who is proceeding with the well overdue ring   announcements.] SL: ...and the second challenger, hailing from Brooklyn, New York, at a     weight of 238 pounds, he is himself a former Cruiserweight Champion... Dirt Dog Unique Allah! ["Snakes" by Dirty Ol' Bastard serenades the, uh, dirty ol' bastard as he first staggers into the aisle, reeking of liquor and with Rodmanesque purple hair. The crowd, never quite sure _what_ to think of this man, treat him to a mixture of contempt and pity as he walks to the ring in between falling, screaming "Shakeemah!" at the top of his lungs.] SR: A drunk by any other name is just as blitzed. TD: That was almost poetic, Steve. I see you've taken to paraphrasing     Shakespeare now. SR: Quigley paraphrased Shakespeare once. Best weekend of both their lives. [The Dirt Dog finally gets up to the ring and enters, meaning that the bell can be rung. With that Mota runs straight at the groggy doggy, nailing him right off the ring apron to the floor. While admiring his handiwork, Lebec dropkicks him in the back of the head, and follows with a plancha that hits both men, meaning all three are scattered about the floor. Lebec is the first up, but Mota is struggling close behind and Allah just looks disheartened about the whole thing. Lebec clips DDUA on the jaw to knock him away, then grabs Mota by the arm and tries to direct him towards the ringpost. Mota's ready, and he switches his momentum to reverse. Lebec gets his hands up to block, but it isn't enough as he crashes hard into the ringpost.] TD: Just to run down quickly how this match works, all three men are     legal at all times, there are no disqualifications or count-outs, and the first person to get a pinfall or submission of any kind wins the match and the title. [Mota rolls Lebec back into the ring, and grabs the top rope, jumping in to catapult himself towards the challenger. Simon has seen it coming and yanks his knees up, so the crowd can only let out a sympathetic groan as they see where Mota is scheduled to land. The male half of the audience then wince collectively when the knees hit a, uh, tender region. Lebec shoots back up to his feet, beeming with pride at his unintentional low blow, only to catch a breeze as DDUA swings wildly over his head. Lebec turns around, a bit surprised, and catches an out of breath Allah in one fluid motion. He then yanks up with a... full nelson slam! Allah goes down hard, and Lebec moves over to cover for: 1 - 2 - Mota dives in to break it up! Now Mota's roughly using a lateral press on Allah for: 1 - 2 - save by Lebec! Mota gets up angrily and throws a right hand towards Lebec, which catches him flush on the jaw. Lebec comes back swinging, and soon the two are trading punches like it's a drunken brawl. Speaking of drunken, Allah is trying with mild success to get back to his feet. His eyes look totally vacant, as usual, until a vocal Sychopath yells out "Seen it!" and tosses a can of Mooselips towards him, which bounces off the side of his head.] SR: Idiot. Wasting a perfectly good can of Mooselips like that. TD: We'd like to remind fans at this time that throwing objects into the     ring _is_ grounds for removal from an IIWF event, as a wrestler could be seriously hurt. SR: Wrestlers are supposed to be seriously hurt. It's their job, right? [While the fisticuffs continue to go on around him, Allah gets a weird look in his eye, and chugs down about half the can of "fine" beer. He then starts waiting for something, which is revealed as Lebec turns to face him and catches a mouthful of beer and saliva in his face. Lebec falls back into a cradle from Mota, but instead of holding on he hops right back up. A blinded Lebec staggers around near the far ropes, while Mota measures him up. With this, DDUA inexplicably starts walking out of the match, all the while polishing off the Mooselips. It's one of those tall cans, too. Allah continues up the aisle while Mota is clotheslining Lebec out of the ring.] TD: This is... this is just weird, folks. Unique Allah has no worries     about being counted out in this match, but you can't win the title if you aren't there. SR: I beg to differ. Joe Petrow told me about an oft-forgotten rule on     the books about winning titles by acclaimation. TD: Well, let's just say it's safe to assume... oh my god, Mota with a     suicide dive but Lebec gets a chair up to greet him! Bad news for the champion! SR: Mota my be a tough little SOB, but Lebec is definately the smart one. TD: And the Dirt Dog? SR: Two words, Dross: Gay. Guy. [Allah is now long gone, as may be Mota's bicuspids after taking that chair to the face. The champ is struggling to get back up, so Lebec uses the time to put out his hand to the front row fans. Many think he's looking for a high five, but the first fan that even tries gets a dirty look. One man then catches on, and hands him a closed umbrella that he'd brought with him, or so we assume. Lebec measures up the still recovering champ, and then lets him have it full blast, snapping the umbrella in two over his head. The crowd pop appreciatively, some starting a "He's Hardcore!" chant, while others strike a competing "IIWF!" chant. Lebec pays attention to neither, climbing instead to the top of the security railing. Mota isn't even looking in the right direction, but when Lebec starts to jump he turns quickly around and gets a foot up high, which catches the Californian right on the chin, knocking him down and possibly out. Despite the fact that he's bleeding lightly from the top of his head, Mota keeps up the attack by climbing up to the second rope.] TD: Asai moonsault! SR: That's why he's the champ, Dross, he learns from the best! TD: Wait a minute, we have company. Is it the Dirt Dog? No... Dexter St.     Croix is walking out to ringside. [Big pop as Dexter makes his way     towards a front row seat which had been surprisingly empty.] I guess     Dexter wants to be a paying customer for this match, but he really     should be concentrating on his own match later tonight. SR: At least the Jamacian pantywaist won't interfere. Hey Dross, if he     formed a stable would we have to call them Dexter St. Croix and the     Wailers? [Neither of the two wrestlers see Dexter taking a ringside seat, and we're not sure if they'd care at this point. Mota is busy picking the battered Showstopper up, and carrying him towards the Spanish announcers table!] TD: Oh my, our Spanish broadcast team had better get out of the way! SR: _That's_ who those guys are? So, calling Immigration was a bad idea,     then? [Both the hispanic commentators dive out of the way as Lebec is slammed harshly on top of the table. Mota then clears the monitor out of the way to, ahem, avoid an injury and starts back to the ring to climb the ropes once again. Mota's made it all the way to the top, and he looks like he's ready to take a swan dive when the crowd begins to buzz with excitement for the return of the Dirt Dog. At least, what used to be the Dirt Dog, as this version is wearing a pink and black singlet and has blonde hair. Mota stares in amazement at Allah, who's busy handing a cheap pair of Ray-Ban imitations to a young fan. Finally, Derek remembers why he came up to the top turnbuckle, and turns back for a splash on the prone Lebec.] TD: Nobody home! Lebec just got out of the way in time, and Mota may     really be hurt. The table cracked in half under his weight! SR: As cool as that was, what the hell is up with the Doggie? Is he     trying a new image, or has he just gone _more_ bonkers? [Allah has finally made it to the ring, where Simon is waiting for him. Lebec charges with a clothesline, but Allah looks much more alert this go of it and slips into position quickly to catch him with an armdrag into an armbar. Lebec starts just powering his way back up, so Allah drops to his knees and uses a fireman's carry, showing alarming techinical and amateur skill. Mota by now has gotten back up, albeit gingerly, and is on his way to the top rope. Allah sees it coming, so he's over towards the corner, climbing up to intercept. Mota, who's still bleeding all over the place, doesn't see Allah in time and has his left leg hooked, giving his challenger the leverage. Dexter looks on impressed as Allah hits a top rope suplex from the position, and holds on for a pin.] TD: Fisherman superplex! That's gotta be it... one, two, no! SR: I love it, Lebec breaks things up with a diving headbutt to the Dog's groin! [Lebec grabs the understandably stunned Allah and drags him to his feet, whipping him hard into a corner. Simon's following soon after, but Allah fights through the pain to get a foot up. Lebec tries to stop his collision course, but it's too late and he goes down hard. Just then, a "Dirt Doggie" yells out to "change the programme!", so Allah again is struck in the side of a head with a Mooselips can. DDUA turns to leave the match again, but this time Dave D'Amato steps in his way, trying to assert what little power he may have here. Mota has recovered from his punishment by now, and is on his way upstairs yet again, while Lebec slowly starts moving in an attempt to blindside Allah. Mota seems to be taking up a lot of care in setting up his next move, while Lebec is now right beside Allah, who somehow is sensing him and turns around. The two have little time to renew accquaintances, though, as they're both looking at Mota flipping towards them in mid air, arms outstretched.] TD: Shooting Star Press Double Clothesline! I've never seen that move     even _attempted_ before, and here it takes both men down. Plus... oh no, I think D'Amato got caught in the crossfire of that move. SR: Referee down! Referee down! Referee down! We're going to nasty-ville, baby! TD: Isn't that... SR: [interrupting] Shut up. [Mota lands fairly well, and is quickly on his feet and standing next to a rising Lebec. Derek grabs the thespian and whips him quickly to the opposite ropes, but Lebec starts diving down before he's even half way there. Once he's to the ropes, he just slides out underneath, tapping his head in the universal symbol for "I'm smarter than you!" Mota turns around... right into a spin kick from Allah. The Dog covers for: 1 - Lebec scrambles back towards the two - 2 - Lebec's in the ring now - 3! No! Mota pushes Allah off just as Lebec is trying a diving elbow to break the pin. The plucky Canuck gets hammered while Allah snags a shocked Lebec from behind with a a back suplex into a bridge: 1 - 2 - Lebec kicks out on his own! As soon as he's up, Lebec runs to the ropes for momentum, while Allah is still pulling himself up. Simon takes off with a flying shoulderblock, but Allah has a counter ready by ducking, meaning that Lebec sails over him... and right into Mota, knocking him back out over the top rope.] SR: This one is just going back and forth. An insane match like this     almost makes up for having to put up with a Quigley-Warnett catfight. TD: That's right, a Grudge match here tonight! SR: But is it a Best two-out-of three falls Mexican No Holds Barred Texas Death Ladder Grudge match? TD: Once again, Steve Roberts, your sense of humour eludes me. [Lebec takes very little of the brunt of the collision, and is easily ready to move away from a Dirt Dog dropkick attempt. Lebec then steps in to try and end the match, snatching at Allah's leg and twisting him over until the Antagonist is on tight. Lebec, now that he has the hold on, senses victory and starts pulling back as hard as he can, while Allah tries to squirm out of the hold. It seems like there'll be no escape until Lebec unexplicably falls over, having been hit in the head with some unidientified object.] TD: That was a faucet! I don't believe it, someone threw a faucet into     the ring! SR: Well, here's who it was... some broad is walking from out of the     crowd, and she's got a kitchen sink with her! Allah brought the     muhfuh'in kitchen sink! [Unique is still down as a woozy Lebec gets up and turns to face his mahogany-skinned female attacker. The woman's ready for this, as she lets him have it again, this time with the whole sink. Allah is finally standing again, and a look passes his face like that of a child at Christmas. He screams out "Shakeemah!" at the top of his lungs, and just stares dreamily at his estranged wife. Lebec, meanwhile, must have five quarts of adreneline pumping through him, because he's pushed himself back to his knees and is taking off his boot to use as a weapon.  Shakeemah Allah sees this, and warns her husband by yelling "the boot!  Watch the boot!" Unique has an interesting interpretation as he takes off his own boot. Dexter St. Croix, Dross and Roberts, heck, the whole arena look on in utter shock as both men charge at each other... and end up labelling the other with their boots!] TD: Both men are just totally out cold in there, Steve Roberts, and this     is too surreal for words. SR: What about Mota, Dross? Wait, he's... jumping back over the top rope! Double splash! TD: I don't believe it, but Mota is covering both men at the same time!     One... Two... he got 'em both! [Ding! Ding! Ding! No one can believe it, but Mota is in no mood to argue as he rolls, bloodied and battered, out of the ring where he's presented his title. Sparky steps up to make it official.] SL: Ladies and gentlemen, your winner and STILL IIWF Cruiserweight     Champion, Derek Mota! [Mota heads quickly backstage with his title, not in any condition to carry on any more fighting. The two men in the ring are still both out of it, but Shakeemah picks up her man and starts dragging him out of the ring to revive him. St. Croix, meanwhile, gets up to leave his ringside seat, still in shock like most of the crowd, who are too stunned to even cheer. Francois immediately takes off through the entranceway to attend to Lebec, and we can assume that this time everyone's too tired to neccesitate bringing in the JJS.] TD: Well, this... there's no other word but insane, folks... insane match has proven one thing. Derek Mota, like him or not, has a stranglehold on the Cruiserweight division. During the match he bled, he went through tables, he was hit with chairs, yet he still came out a champion. What would it take to stop that man? SR: The Holy Hand Grenade of Antioch? TD: That might do it, but on this night neither Simon Lebec nor Dirt Dog     Unique Allah were equal to the task, although both gave incredible     performances to be sure. Well, you can't dwell on one match _too_ long, so let's take a look now at our first elimination-style match! SR: Tonnage against everyone else in the IIWF! TD: Not quite. Tonnage is in this match, but with four other teammates against five other wrestlers. SR: That hardly seems fair. These matches should be balanced by weight, not numbers. How about Tonnage versus the Smooth? TD: I don't think that the Smooth is quite ready for that. SR: He's training, baby! You'll see the Smooth out there yet! TD: It looks like Sparkplug is ready for the introductions. SR: And I've got my pillow ready. Wake me up when the big guy starts squashing everybody. ___ ___ | \/ |---------------------------------------------------------------. | \ /_|_ ___ MIDSUMMER MADNESS ELIMINATION MATCH: | | |\/|| \/ | Tonnage, The Harlequins & Pain Inc. | |_| || \ / | vs. | | |\/| | Deathbringer, Team Sychosys & The Equalizers | |_| |_|---------------------------------------------------------' WRITER: RP [Sparkplug Lee, realizing that he has ten wrestlers to introduce, forges right into the introductions.] SL: The next match is a Midsummer Madness, ten man, elimination match! Introducing first, hailing from Sleepy Hollow, Illinois and weighing in at a combined weight of 545 pounds, Tragedy... Chaos... the Harlequiiiiins! ["My Lover's Box" by Garbage plays as the Harlequins head down to ringside. Tragedy leads the way with Comedy on his arm, her Happy Hammer swinging by her side. Chaos follows, towering over both of them. When they get to the ring and remove their masks, Chaos is wearing black facepaint with white diamonds around his eyes and white paint on his lips.] TD: That's a new look for Chaos. SR: He had to do it, Drossie. So many fourteen year olds were swarming him, if he didn't cover his face, Marty Warnett may never get another date again! Hey Dross, I just realized something! TD: What's that? SR: Tonnage on his own outweighs the Harlequins combined! SL: Their partners, hailing from Jakarta, Indonesia, and weighing a combined 585 pounds... Morningstar... Hellraiser... Pain Incorporated! [Garbage is replaced with "More Human Than Human" by White Zombie as the two large men come through the curtains, followed by Mr.Mic. They snarl at the fans on the way down but when they hop into the ring they pretty much ignore their partners.] SR: Now these guys outweigh Tonnage right now, but how about after a hearty breakfast? SL: And the captain of team number one... hailing from Albany, New York, and weighing in at 565 pounds... Tonnage! [Twisted Sister's "The Beast" takes over where White Zombie left off and Tonnage strides down the aisle with Little Louie following behind.] TD: Joey Patrick doesn't like what he sees. There seems to be too many managers out there... and he's ordering them all back to the locker room! SR: Just because one team has three managers... four if Melody had come down... and the other team has none? What's wrong with that? TD: Well, right or wrong, Joey Patrick has cleared the ring area. I guess handling a match with ten men is bad enough without the antics of all of these outside bodies. [Little Louie, the Harlequin entourage, and Mr. Mic all look none too pleased at being banished from ringside, but as Joey Patrick leans through the ropes and points back to the locker room, they eventually leave, scowls painted across their faces, to a big pop from the crowd. In the ring, Tonnage, who towers above even the two huge members of Pain Inc., appears to be trying to rally his partners together with some strategic talk.] SL: Now, their opponents... currently residing in Tokyo, Japan and the New England area respectively, weighing in at a combined 457 pounds... "Sychosys" Joe Petrow... "Majestic" Maurice McArthur... Team Sychosys! ["Two Princes" by the Spin Doctors plays as the team makes their grand entrance. McArthur is wearing a regal blue robe, with "3M" spelled out in diamonds on the back, while Petrow follows behind, in tattered rags. They are making their way slowly to ringside, Petrow really hamming it up, groveling in anguish, and deferring to the "greatness" that is Maurice McArthur.] TD: Look at this! Maurice can barely contain his laughter! SR: Petrow may be groveling to him but he still had to stop him from hopping in the ring, with Tonnage and those other four guy in there. Oh, do I need to say... TD: Yes, yes. Tonnage outweighs Team Sychosys. SR: By over a hundred pounds! SL: Their partners, hailing from Seattle, Washington and St. Louis, Missouri respectively, and weighing in at a combined 515 pounds... Eric Sampson... Scott Paulson... the Equalizers! [Marilyn Manson's "Tourniquet" replaces the Spin Doctors as the two tall wrestlers head down to join Team Sychosys. Petrow and McArthur, stripped down to their matching black trunks, try to get some enthusiasm going by the Equalizers, who just stare at them coldly.] TD: This match doesn't have two teams... it has four... or five... or six! SR: No, there's just two. Tonnage and everybody else. SL: And the captain of team two, hailing from the dark side, and weighing in at 324 pounds, Deathbringeeeeeeer! [Big pop as Grave Digger's "The Reaper" rounds out the theme music jamboree as the ominous looking Deathbringer joins his team at ringside. The fans clamour to get a look at Deathbringer, who wears his cowl and carries his scythe to ringside. Walking slowly, he is, as ever, the picture of intimidation, and as he removes his cowl, the audience is treated to a good look at his black mask, once again free of yellow paint. His red eyes stare out eerily from underneath, and in the ring, his partners seem to respond to his approach with a mixture of respect and trepidation. He looks at them and points to the corner where they are to stand. He then climbs into the ring.] TD: Here's a man we've not seen since Serge Annis defaced -- if you'll pardon the pun -- his mask by daubing a yellow smiley face all over it a couple of weeks ago. SR: Personally, I think he looked better when he smiled. SR: It looks like he told them who's boss! TD: It'll be Deathbringer starting off against Hellraiser of Pain Inc. SR: I just figured it out. Tonnage's team outweighs 'Bringer's team by 400 pounds! That's a whole tag team in some of those Mexican federations! TD: There is no doubt that there is a mass of humanity in that ring. Nearly a ton and a half collide here tonight! [Hellraiser charges at Deathbringer, right into his grasp. 'Bringer has 'Raiser by the throat and gives him a massive chokeslam! Morningstar runs in and gets the same treatment!] TD: Deathbringer is making short work of Pain Inc.! SR: Why shouldn't he? He's big and bad and they are just a tag team. TD: Don't tell me you actually like Deathbringer now! SR: Not likely. I just like to see a singles wrestler beat up a tag team. That's why I like the Syndicate. They are really a couple of singles wrestlers and now they are beating up tag teams! TD: The Syndicate in action tonight against... oh! Deathbringer cleaning house! He's already flattened both of Pain Inc. and now he has leveled both members of the Harlequins with brutal clotheslines! Tonnage is standing passively on the apron while his team is getting slaughtered! SR: Sure, let the dead guy get worn out beating up the fodder and them Tonnage will come in and beat them all! All in time to hit the "all you can eat" buffet down at Denny's! [Deathbringer tosses Tragedy through the ropes, followed quickly by Chaos and Morningstar. He then whips Hellraiser into the ropes and nails him with a flying clothesline!] TD: That's the Scythe! If none of his team mates can stop it... he's got the three count! [Ding! Ding! Ding! Hellraiser rolls from the ring, clutching the back of his head, his face undoubtedly contorted in pain under his chainmail mask.] RA: Ladies and gentlemen, Hellraiser has been eliminated! SR: Chaos and the clowns were still picking themselves off the floor and Tonnage didn't care! Just can't wait to get to the buffet, hey big guy? TD: Joe Petrow is calling for the tag but Deathbringer is just ignoring him. It looks like Hellraiser's partner, Morningstar, is going to try and stop the big man. [Morningstar enters the ring, after shooting a quick scowl at Tonnage, and immediately unloads a spinning heel kick on Deathbringer... to no effect.] TD: That move would have taken some wrestlers' heads off... but Deathbringer didn't even budge! He unloads with a devastating chop and still no reaction! What will it take to put this man down? SR: You know the answer to that... it's big... it's ugly... it eats whole cows for dinner... do you have it yet? [Morningstar moves in for another assault but Deathbringer catches him with the Death Claw, clamping down on his forehead.] TD: Morningstar's knees have buckled but here comes the Harlequins to break the hold... but no! They are intercepted by the Equalizers! SR: The Energizers aren't hurting the clowns, but they are stopping them from breaking the hold. TD: Patrick has lifted Morningstar's hand and it has dropped once... twice... and that's it! Just like that, Deathbringer has eliminated both members of Pain Inc.! [Ding! Ding! Ding! Hellraiser had yet to leave the ringside area but now he helps his groggy partner back to the locker room, as Sparkplug makes the announcement:] RA: Ladies and gentlemen, Morningstar has been eliminated! TD: Things don't look good for Tonnage's team. SR: What do you mean? The sides are just now even! TD: Look at that! Deathbringer got too close to his own corner and Eric Sampson tagged himself in! 'Bringer had refused to make a tag but now Joey Patrick is ordering him out of the ring! [Deathbringer glares through his mask at Sampson, but does climb through the ropes onto the apron. Sampson enters the ring and faces the opponent replacing the eliminated Morningstar... Tragedy!] SR: Now we get to watch a couple of lightweights bounce around... bring on the blubber! TD: Sampson has maneuvered through the collar and elbow tie up and now has Tragedy in a Japanese Armbreaker! [Sampson pours on the pressure before suddenly switching to an equally devastating Asiatic Spike.] TD: A great tactical move by Sampson. He could sense that Tragedy wasn't going to be put away by the armbreaker so he made a quick change and has taken a different approach. SR: What different approach? Let's see him put that Spike in Tragedy's eye and then we can talk about a different approach. [Without easing off on that Asiatic Spike, Sampson reaches over and tags in Scott Paulson. Sampson then whips Tragedy into the far ropes. Paulson follows him quickly from behind and clotheslines him over the ropes.] TD: Paulson and Tragedy have both gone crashing to the floor! The Equalizer is on his feet first... Oh! Chaos came flying off the apron with a headbutt to the lower back of Scott Paulson! SR: Look at Ed the Happy Clown lay into the Energizer Bunny! Let's see if he can keep going and going and going now! [Both Harlequins roll Paulson back into the ring and Tragedy follows in after him. He quickly slaps on a figure four leglock] TD: There's no way Eric Sampson is going to allow that for long, as he breaks the hold by kicking Tragedy in the head. Joey Patrick is ushering Sampson back out -- but here comes Chaos again! SR: I'm liking this big guy more and more! Look at that powerbomb! TD: Joey Patrick is trying to regain control in this one... and Scott Paulson has broken free! He's reached his corner and tagged in Eric Sampson! Tragedy is in his own corner and he... uh-oh! SR: Here we go! Let's go, Tonnage! Show this little piece of meat what 565 pounds of flab can do! TD: With Tonnage entering the ring we have now seen everyone in the match except for Team Sychosys! SR: Big Joe is no dummy. Let the others wear themselves out and then he can face Tonnage all by himself. Oh, wait. Maybe he is a dummy. [Tonnage catches Sampson and puts him over with a massive Belly To Belly Suplex. Patrick counts: 1 - 2 - he just squeaks his shoulder out.] TD: You couldn't get much closer than that! Tonnage is on his feet and -- oh, a big, a huge splash from Tonnage! Sampson isn't kicking out of that one. Scott Paulson tries to break the pin by dropping an elbow on the back of Tonnage's head... and Tonnage ignores him! [Ding! Ding! Ding! Joey Patrick ushers the stunned, and squashed, Sampson towards the ropes. As Scott Paulson stands over his fallen comrade, he is grabbed from behind by Tonnage!] RA: Ladies and gentlemen, Eric Sampson has been eliminated! SR: All Paulson did was nominate himself to be the next victim on the buffet table from hell! [Tonnage scoops up Scott Paulson in position for an Inverted Atomic Drop and instead charges him into the turnbuckle corner, he then turns around and does it again to the opposite corner. This is followed by a hiptoss into the middle of the ring and an amazing splash! Huge pop!] TD: Oh my! That's the Gigaton Crush! Paulson is about to join his partner on the way to the locker room! [Joey Patrick drops to the canvas and makes the count as Tonnage lays his huge girth over the stunned Paulson: 1 - 2 - 3! Ding! Ding! Ding!] RA: Ladies and gentlemen, Scott Paulson has been eliminated! SR: Sampson hadn't even gotten out of the ring yet! Patrick's just shoving them both out onto the floor! TD: Tonnage is sure living up to the billing that Steve Roberts has been giving him. SR: I know top quality beef when I see it, baby dolls! Here comes Deathbringer! Finally, a challenge! TD: This is the marquee match-up. Captain against captain! Tonnage has been calling out the 'Bringer all week -- and Deathbringer is going nuts! He's raining blows on Tonnage like there's no tomorrow! SR: There won't be if he can't eliminate the big guy! [The two big men exchange thunderous blows, with neither gaining a clear advantage. Finally Tonnage drops back a step... and then another... and 'Bringer grabs him around the throat!] SR: I can't believe it! Deathbringer is going to chokeslam Tonnage?! Not on his best day! [As it turns out, Roberts is right, as 'Bringer just tries to choke the life out of Tonnage!] TD: Tonnage has dropped to his knees but Patrick is putting the count on Deathbringer. He has let Tonnage go but now he is looking awfully threateningly at Joey Patrick! SR: All right! Kill the ref! [A "Kill the Ref!" chant goes up from the drunken L'il Soundbiters behind the announce table as Patrick backs into the corner... and Joe Petrow tags Deathbringer!] TD: Once again, Deathbringer is forcibly tagged out of the match! Deathbringer has grabbed Petrow over the ropes! Deathbringer choke slammed Petrow right down onto the concrete! The man from the Dark Side is going out after him! [Confused pop from the crowd as Deathbringer follows the stunned Petrow to the outside, while McArthur strikes the dead man from behind with ineffectual blows.] SR: Didn't anyone remember to tell ol' red eye who his teammates were? Tonnage is laughing his head off! [Petrow and Deathbringer slug it out on the outside while Joey Patrick commences his ten count.] SR: Look at triple M! He's frantic but not stupid enough to jump on Deathbringer! TD: Joey Patrick is calling for the bell! [Ding! Ding! Ding!] SR: Did they both get counted out? TD: No. Deathbringer had been tagged out by Joe Petrow! Only the legal man can be counted out! Joe Petrow has been eliminated without ever entering the ring! [Deathbringer climbs back into the ring and is met by blows from Tonnage which bend the masked man double. Suddenly, Deathbringer drops to his knees and there is a bright flash of light!] SR: Deathbringer has thrown a fireball right in Tonnage's face! The Beast is blinded! TD: Joey Patrick is quick to call for the bell, disqualifying Deathbringer... but the dead man isn't done! He's got Tonnage by the throat and... SR: He did it! Deathbringer chokeslammed Tonnage! TD: Did you feel that impact? Tonnage is down! And here comes Joe Petrow! SR: Only to join Tonnage in the ranks of the recently chokeslammed! The ring is being swarmed with people! Deathbringer is chokeslamming everybody! TD: There goes Maurice McArthur! And Tragedy! There goes Chaos crashing to the mat! Oh my, Deathbringer has gone nuts! [The crowd is on its feet as Deathbringer stands towering above the stunned carcasses of all the other athletes in the ring. The Jobber Justice Squad dashes down the aisle, a collective look of abject terror clearly visible on their faces. They enter the ring and... CRASH!] TD: The Jobber Justice Squad, one by one, feeling the wrath of Deathbringer! [A further gang of officials heads down to ringside. A number of officials roll under the bottom rope and, one by one, fall victim to vicious chokeslams from the huge Deathbringer. Even the bespectacled French-Canadian Poutine Janois makes his way to ringside. Janois climbs up onto the apron and boldly jabs a finger into the face of the crazed Deathbringer... Huge, huge pop!] TD: Poutine Janois! No! Deathbringer just chokeslammed Poutine Janois clear over the ropes and into the ring! SR: Yeah! Go, dead guy! TD: No, this is awful, Steve Roberts! Deathbringer is going to be facing serious repercussion here! [Deathbringer looks around the littered bodies in the ring, some of the athletes now beginning to stir, and sees that there is no one still standing. He then heads down the aisle of his own volition to a mixed reaction from the crowd.] TD: Some of the fans appreciate this kind of mayhem and others feel that matches should be decided by fair combat. SR: What century are you living in, Dross? You've been listening to Christiansen too much! [Joey Patrick is trying to regain some semblance of order and has removed all extra bodies from the ring. Poutine Janois is able to walk from the ring with the assistance of Ned Norton and El Super Gecko. He is visibly seething. Just then Tonnage jumps up, still blinded from the fireball, and starts thrashing wildly! Huge pop!] TD: Tonnage has just dropped both of his remaining teammates! Oh no! He's flattened Joey Patrick! SR: No one has to hit the Harlequins on the head with a brick! They are all over Maurice McArthur! Tonnage is shaking off the effects of the fireball and the other team is down to just Triple M! TD: Joe Petrow won't stand for that! [Petrow flies into the ring and nails Tragedy with a Sychokick. The smaller Harlequin goes through the ropes and onto the floor. He then nails Chaos with a thunderous clothesline and picks up his partner.] TD: What is Petrow up to? SR: No one knows, including him! [Chaos gets to his feet but right into Joe Petrow who has dropped Maurice onto Chaos' shoulders and snapped his head down, forcing an amazing Frankensteiner!] TD: It's the McArthinsteiner! Petrow has gone under the bottom rope and is waking up Joey Patrick! Tonnage has yet to clear his head and Tragedy is just getting off the floor! [Joe Patrick drops again and makes another count: 1 - 2 - 3! Ding! Ding! Ding! Huge, rafter-shaking pop as McArthur groggily stands, almost unable to believe that he has scored a pinfall! On the outside, Joe Petrow applauds his partner!] RA: Ladies and gentlemen, Harlequin Chaos has been eliminated! SR: Will wonders never cease? Let's see him take out Tonnage now! TD: You never know! Tonnage is still wounded from the fireball. He can't see clearly. [Chaos has cleared out of the ring and Tragedy has charged in, flattening McArthur.] TD: Maurice may have taken out Chaos but the McArthensteiner had hurt him just as much! Tragedy has tagged out to Tonnage and is guiding him over to the fallen Sychosys member! SR: Oh! The big splash on the little pancake! [Patrick drops to the canvas and counts: 1 - 2 - 3! Ding! Ding! Ding!] TD: It's over! This match is over... incredible! SL: The survivors of this Midsummer Madness Elimination match... Tonnage and Harlequin Tragedy! TD: Joe Petrow is helping Maurice back to the locker room but Tonnage is refusing help. I guess his vision is coming back. SR: He didn't need to see to put the crush on Maurice! [The athletes slowly file away from the ring and up the aisle as the crowd once again sits down. Cut back to the broadcast table at ringside.] TD: A tremendous match there, Steve Roberts, and a truly impressive performance from Tonnage -- but the real story is surely that quite uncharacteristic display of viciousness from Deathbringer. I can barely count the number of wrestlers, officials -- and even a high-ranking IIWF executive -- who ended up flat on their back in the ring back there! SR: The 'Bringer's gone schizo, Dross! They call Tonnage "The Beast," but it looked to me like it was the dead guy who lived up to that title. I kind of like him that way. TD: Well, I have to say that I can't imagine that he will escape after that display without severe recrimination -- perhaps we will see a record fine levied, but I wouldn't be at all surprised to see Deathbringer hit with a suspension of some kind. There's really no excuse for attacking a man like Poutine Janois. SR: Are you kidding? Just the way he stares around through those piggy little eyes, and that dreadful accent of his -- seem like damned good reasons to me, Dross. TD: Be that as it may, we'll try and bring you an update on the Deathbringer situation later in this evening's show. Right now, let's get to our second elimination match. SR: Yep, two of my favorite wrestlers and their team against a nutcase and a bunch of pissed off black guys. Marred only by the fact, of course, that "Make me Squeal" Luke Steele's involved. TD: I really wish you'd stop calling him stuff like that. One of these days he's going to take major offense at that, and teach you a lesson. SR: Like to see him try. I bet even _I_ could take him. Him and Kick-me. At the same time. TD: [picks up his phone and begins dialing] Hi, I'd like to schedule a match for next Saturday... SR: [lunging for the phone] No, no, no! You know they'd never let it happen. Wouldn't want to see those two pansies injured. Now put the phone down, Dross, and let's get on with this. TD: [chuckling] If you insist, Steve. ___ ___ | \/ |---------------------------------------------------------------. | \ /_|_ ___ MIDSUMMER MADNESS ELIMINATION MATCH: | | |\/|| \/ | Subway Psycho, Tony Starks, Ike Sampson | |_| || \ / | & Prophets of Rage vs. | | |\/| | Timothy N. Turner, Duncan Macbeth, Luke Steele & LFD | |_| |_|---------------------------------------------------------' WRITER: RR [The scene cuts to the ring, where the ever-vigilant but usually oblivious Sparkplug Lee stands, microphone in hand. He smiles at the crowd, winks at an old lady holding a "Shoot, Sparkplug, Shoot!" sign, then starts his announcements.] RA: Ladies and gentlemen, this next match is a Midsummer Madness tag elimination match! Introducing first, at a combined weight of 1,305 pounds, the team of Timothy N. Turner, Duncan Macbeth, "The Real Deal" Luke Steele, and Licensed for Devastation! ["Scotland the Brave" sounds out over the loudspeakers as the curtains to the dressing rooms part. Duncan Macbeth strides out first and is met with a chorus of boos, and is followed closely behind by Licensed for Devastation, with Steele bringing up the rear. Turner is nowhere to be seen. The four men make their way down to ringside, where Macbeth whispers something to Sparkplug, who blinks in confusion.] RA: Ummm... I've just been informed that Mr. Turner has run into some traffic problems, and will be joining us at his earliest possible convenience. The match, however, will go on as scheduled until that point. So now, their opponents, at a total combined weight of 1,401 pounds, the team of the Subway Psycho, Tony Starks, Ike Sampson, and the Prophets of Rage! [The opening chords of Ozzy Osborne's "Crazy Train" blare out over the loudspeaker as the five men emerge from the curtains, heading for the ring while the Psycho slaps some of the fans hands as they go. A moment later, however, a sixth figure bursts out from the locker room, sprinting down the aisle towards the ring. With a quick motion, and never stopping, Timothy N. Turner slams a metal bar into the Psycho's left knee, causing him to crumple to the floor and clutch at his leg. Turner continues his sprint, past the other members and finally sliding under the bottom rope of the ring, where he stands, takes a bow, and presents the pipe to the referee, grabbing the mic.] TNT: Looks like traffic cleared just in time, gentlemen. TD: Psycho's hurt! He can barely stand out there. SR: _Now_ do you see why I love this guy? He won't even let traffic stop him from his duties. TD: I doubt there ever _was_ any traffic, Steve. SR: I beg to differ. You should have seen the mob of women trying to get at him backstage. It was like watching a younger version of myself. [The remaining four men all help the Subway Psycho to his feet, who promptly shakes off any further assistance and starts walking down to the ring under his own power. When they arrive, the Psycho jumps under the bottom rope as well and lunges directly at Turner, causing the remaining men in the ring to scatter and the timekeeper to ring the bell, signalling the start of the contest.] TD: We're underway, and the Psycho is not happy. [Indeed, in the ring, the Subway Psycho is venting his frustrations on Turner in the form of some stiff forearm shots. He backs Turner up against one of the ropes, continuing to pound on him, then whips him across to the other side. Turner breaks into a baseball slide, however, and exits the ring under the bottom rope, turning around and shaking his finger at the Psycho in a "naughty, naughty" fashion. He walks around the ring to his corner and climbs back in, discussing something with his teammates before finally slapping Duncan Macbeth's hand, tagging in the Scotsman. The Psycho takes a step back as Macbeth enters the ring, then forward again as the two lock up in a collar and elbow tie-up.] SR: [shouting to Turner] Stick and move, baby! [Turner acknowledges Roberts' advice with a wry smile and a nod of the head, while in the ring the Psycho and Macbeth are trading blows. Macbeth comes out on top during this exchange, dropping the Psycho to one knee after kicking him in the leg that had been attacked earlier by Turner, then leveling him with a knee to the head. The Scotsman then grabs the Psycho by the ankle and drags him to the center of the ring, where he wrenches the leg and falls on it, applying pressure the entire time. The Psycho winces in pain as Macbeth pulls back harder on the leg, waving off referee Dave D'Amato when he asks for a submission. After close to a minute, the Psycho manages to crawl his way over to the ropes, grabbing the bottom one and forcing D'Amato to call for Macbeth to break the hold. Macbeth stands up quickly, stomping on the Psycho's leg, then grabs him by the back of the head and picks him up, kicking all the while at the targeted knee. Finally, Macbeth pulls the hobbling Psycho to the center of the ring and hoists him up, drilling him into the mat with a tilt-o-whirl suplex.] TD: An excellent job so far of isolating the Psycho. SR: Don't take much to isolate him... Psycho don't have many friends anyway. [Macbeth stands up, grinning widely, kicks the prone Psycho, and walks over to his corner, slapping Steele on the shoulder. The referee calls for the tag and Steele, scowling, steps into the ring towards the fallen wrestler in the middle. He picks the Psycho up, locks his head under his arm, and drops him again with a slingshot suplex. A knee drop later, Steele rolls over, hooking the Psycho's leg as the ref counts: 1 - 2 - and stops as the Psycho's shoulder jumps pff the mat at the last moment. Turner starts shouting "Pin him! He's crippled, for crying out loud!" at Steele, who just shrugs and picks his opponent up. He whips the Psycho into the ropes, and leaps up into the air for a dropkick... but ends up eating mat as the Subway Psycho grabs a hold of the ropes as he hits them. Steele rolls over, clutching at his back, while the Psycho stumbles his way along the ropes towards his corner, arm outstretched.] TD: The Psycho's heading for his corner... he's trying for the tag! SR: Yeah, leave it to "Third Wheel" Steele to blow a perfectly good offensive. Stop him, you bum! [Steele sees the Psycho heading for his corner and dives at him, catching a hold of his ankle and tripping him, buut tjhe Psycho falls forward towards his corner, his outstretched hand slapping against that of... Ike Sampson! Sampson jumps into the ring, laying the boots to Steele, pounding him about an inch deeper into the mat as the Psycho rolls out under the bottom rope. Turner, in the meantime, is shouting at Steele to beat the band, everything from "Get up, you idiot!" to "Where did we FIND you?". Sampson, ignoring his opponent's tirade, grabs Steele by the hair and picks him up, slinging him against the ropes, but puts his head down too early and Steele locks his forearm under his jaw, grabs his tights, and drives Sampson's head into the mat with a great deal of emphasis. He rolls over and covers, and the ref dives to the mat, counting: 1 - 2 - ...and stops as Steele stands up, pulling Sampson's shoulders off the mat. Turner can only watch wide-eyed as Steele pushes his hair back out of his eyes, gives Turner the one-finger New York salute, then climbs out of the ring and walks back up the aisle, grinning madly as the referee counts him out of the match.] RA: Ladies and gentlemen, "The Real Deal" Luke Steele has been eliminated via a countout! SR: That _loser_! That thrice-damned, lice-infested, polyester-wearing bastard son of a diseased camel! He LEFT! I don't believe this! TD: Well, believe it, Steve Roberts! It's five on four now, in favor of the Psycho's team! [Sampson has just gotten to his feet in the center of the ring, but is quickly laid low again as Jonathan Chaos climbs between the ropes and tackles him, sending shot after shot to Sampson's head and body. He stands up, kicks Ike in the ribs once for good measure, then hoists him up and directly over his head in an impressive military press, holding him there for a good five seconds before spinning him ninety degrees in the air and falling forward into a powerbomb that shakes the entire ring. He picks Sampson up again, and whips him into the ropes, but Sampson reaches out and makes the tag to Shadoe Rage on the first pass. Chaos grabs Sampson and picks him up for a powerslam, but the smaller Rage darts past him, rebounds off the opposite ropes, and takes out Chaos' legs, causing Sampson to fall on top of him in a pinning position. The referee only manages a two count, however, as Chaos is able to toss Sampson off at the last moment. Sampson rolls out of the way as Shadoe, now the legal man, dives at Chaos, planting a forearm into his face, then runs back to his corner and tags his normal partner, Derek, and mounts a turnbuckle. Derek waits for a moment as Chaos struggles to his feet, then grabs his teammate and hurls him at him in a rocket-launcher-esque maneuver.] SR: Duck! Duck like the wind! TD: _Duck_ like the wind?! [Chaos hears the warning and hits the deck, causing Shadoe to sail right over him and hit the mat in a heap. Chaos regains his footing and turns to laugh at the smaller Rage, not seeing Derek tag to the Psycho and ask him to climb the ropes as well. With a shout, Tony Starks calls Chaos' attention to that corner, just in time to be hit in the mush by 255 pounds of flying Subway Psycho. The ref drops to the mat as both men go down, and slaps the canvas three times, signalling to the timekeeper.] RA: Ladies and gentlemen, by way of a pinfall, Jonathan Chaos has been eliminated from the match! TD: And now it's five on three! SR: Not for long, Timbo. [As the pile-on in the ring is taking place, Reggie Starr dives over the top rope towards the slowly-recovering Shadoe Rage, rolling over him and wrapping him up in a quick cradle, the referee not even leaving the mat and sliding over to count this attempt: 1 - 2 - 3!] RA: Shadoe Rage has been eliminated by way of a pinfall! TD: And just like that, it's four on three! The odds are slowly evening out! SR: And this ain't just in the ring... look out there! [In the aisle, a dejected Shadoe Rage has caught up with Jonathan Chaos, and both men have started brawling. The JJS has run out into the aisle and is trying desperately to break the two men up, but before they are finally herded backstage, one can see the Barnacle Brothers being tossed aside by Chaos as if they were rag dolls in his latest attempt to get to Rage. Back in the ring, however, Starks has stepped between the ropes, and charges as Starr as the referee tries to usher the rest of the wrestlers out of the ring. The two of them lock up, but Starks is sent back towards his corner after an arm-drag by Starr. As he gets to his feet, Starr follows it up with a Lariat, knocking Starks back into his corner. This puts Starr a bit too close to the wrong corner, though... Ike Sampson slaps Starks on the arm and climbs into the ring, pounding on Starr with elbows as he enters. Starks starts to head forward again, but is waved off by Sampson, the camera picking up the words, "Let me handle this" coming from Sampson's mouth.] TD: Looks like Sampson wants to show Starks what he's really made of. SR: We know what he's made of. Three hundred plus pounds of angry black guy. [Starr, in the meantime, slams an elbow upwards into Sampson's midsection, then drops him onto his back with a lariat clothesline. He drags the bigger man to the center of the ring and looks over to his corner, where Turner simply nods to him and reaches for the tag. Leaping over the top rope with a considerable amount of flair, Turner saunters over to the downed Sampson, mocking him and prodding him with his foot. He finally connects with a nastier move, a leg drop, then nods to Macbeth and Starr. Starr tries to climb into the ring, causing the referee to walk over and restrain him from getting his shots in, while Turner picks up Sampson and throws him into the ropes. On the outside, however, stands Duncan Macbeth... who winds up and clobbers Sampson in the back of the head with a metal pipe pulled from his boot moments earlier. Sampson staggers forward, dazed, and Turner leaps into the air and flips hom over and into the view of the referee with a Frankensteiner. Grabbing the legs, Turner grins a near feral smile as the referee counts the three on the nearly-unconscious Sampson, with Starks groaning in the corner and making no move to try to break the pin with the others.] RA: Ladies and gentlemen, Ike Sampson has been eliminated! TD: And the sides are even again! SR: Due to some excellent double-team work by Macbeth and Turner, mind you. TD: Cheating, you mean. SR: You say tomato, I say spaghetti sauce. TD: And the Psycho is incensed! Look at him go! [As Dross has so correctly called, the Subway Psycho rushes into the ring, lunging at Turner again, who tries his best to get out of the way. Unfortunately for him, his best isn't exactly good enough, and the Psycho tackles him back into the corner, where he lays into him with punches, kicks, and even the occasional bite. The referee, unfortunately, is still ushering Sampson out of the ring, and fails to notice Macbeth slide into the ring and waffle the Psycho with the pipe as well, then slide back out, leaving Turner to fall forward on top of him for the pin as the referee conveniently turns around again at just the right time -- for Turner, at least.] RA: Ladies and gentlemen, the Subway Psycho has been eliminated! TD: This is a travesty! Macbeth is running rampant in there with that pipe, and nothing's being done about it! SR: [punching at a calculator] Two swings... two hits.. not too bad. TD: What are you doing? SR: Figuring out Macbeth's batting average. [Turner, seeing Derek Rage run into the ring, lunges for his corner and tags out to Starr, then rolls out under the bottom rope. Starr jumps in, but is met with a rough lariant, knocking him flat on his butt. Rage then grabs him and drags him back to his corner, tagging in Starks and letting him go to work on their opponent for a bit. Rage, in the meantime, charges the opposite corner, knocking both Turner and Macbeth off the apron with a double clothesline, then returns to the center of the ring to work on Starr. Both men level Starr with a double clothesline, then Starks grins at Rage and points to the turnbuckle. While Rage holds Starr, giving him the occasional knee lift for good measure, then runs to the corner to make sure Turner and Macbeth aren't getting back in anytime soon, Starks climbs to the top turnbuckle, looks down at his opponent, and leaps, driving Starr's face into the mat with a bulldog.] TD: That was the Headwrecker! Starks just executed the Prophets' finishing move! SR: Some style points there. Not many, but some. [Rage turns around with a grin, slowly applauding Starks as Starks hooks Starr's leg for the pin. The referee counts to three, but as he does this, Turner drops Rage to the mat a la Tanya Harding with a pipe shot to the knee, then drags him outside, where he and Macbeth work him over next to the ring. The toss him back in as the ref hits the three count, and Macbeth follows him in, tackling Starks as soon as he stands up.] RA: Ladies and gentlemen, Reggie Starr has been eliminated! TD: And we're down to two on two! It's like a regular tag match! SR: No, it's not, Dross. TD: Well, it would be, if there were regular teams in there, and it wasn't elimination, and... SR: Remind me, why is it I work with you again? [Macbeth drives Starks to the mat as Turner slinks into the ring towards the prone Derek Rage. Turner grins, and applies a figure four leglock to the Prophet in the center of the ring, and Starks can only watch from under the rain of blows being landed on him by Macbeth as his partner quickly submits to the incredible pain in his leg, heightened by the pipe hit received minutes bforehand.] RA: Ladies and gentlemen, Derek Rage has been eliminated! SR: Yes, baby! Turner, take those boys apart! TD: This is brutal doubleteaming, Steve. I don't know how you can condone this. SR: You should by now. I've been doing it for years. [Turner saunters over to the corner, where Macbeth is in the process of picking a battered Tony Starks up from the mat. Both men grab an arm and whip him to the far turnbuckle, changing his course ever-so-slightly at the end to have Starks bump into Dave D'Amato as he goes. The referee spins to the mat, down but not quite out, and Turner and Macbeth follow the whip up with a double dropkick into the corner.] SR: Ref down! Ref down! I love it! [The referee groggily tries to get to his feet as Macbeth grabs Starks from behind, pinning his arms behind his back. Turner smiles, reaches into his tights, and pulls out a small chain, wrapping it around his knuckles and hauling back to land a punch in Stark's face. Starks, although dazed, sees it coming, and throws all his weight downwards, pulling Macbeth into the route of the fist. The chain connects with his nose with a sickening *crunch*, and the Scot topples backwards to the canvas. Starks dives forward, grabbing one of Turner's legs and legwhipping him through the ropes and out of the ring, then rolls up the semi-conscious Macbeth as the rferee crawls over for a slow count: 1 - 2 - and Macbeth gets his shoulder up a fraction of a second too late! Huge pop from the crowd as the referee signals to the timekeeper!] RA: Ladies and gentlemen, Duncan Macbeth has been eliminated! It is down to Timothy N. Turner and Tony Starks! [Turner has been creeping around the ring at this time as Starks unceremoniously throws Macbeth out between the ropes. Seeing an opening, Turner crawls back in under the bottom rope, runs forward... and is caught at the throat by Starks, who spins behind him, grabs him in a cobra clutch, and drops him backwards on the back of his head. Huge, HUGE crowd pop! Standing up and drawing a thumb across his throat, Starks reaches down to the prone form on the canvas, picks him up, and wraps around him, dropping to the mat for better leverage.] TD: He's locked on the Katha Jime! Tony Starks has locked the Katha Jime submission hold onto Timothy Turner! SR: Grab the ropes, Turner! Get out of there! Hit him with something! Aim for the... [But Roberts is cut off by the ringing of the bell, as the referee signals that Timothy Turner has, like many before him, submitted to the Katha Jime.] RA: Ladies and gentlemen, the winner of the match, and the SOLE SURVIVOR... Tony Starks! TD: Oh, this could be bad. [In the ring, the referee is attempting to raise Stark's hand in victory, but can't, as Starks will not let go of the hold. Turner writhes in the center of the ring, arms flailing wildly, as Starks keeps the Katha Jime locked in even after the bell rings again. Suddenly, Ike Sampson runs back down the aisle from the dressing room toward the ring, raising a buzz from the crowd.] SR: Hoo-boy. Age of Rage, here we come. TD: That's very possible... Starks did offer to Sampson a... oh no! [Sampson dives into the ring and dives at Starks, blasting more hard punches into his face and causing him to finally break the hold on Turner. Turner rolls out of the ring, gasping, as Starks and Sampson start to duke it out, eventually spilling outside the ring and up the aisle, where they're met halfway by the Jobber Justice Squad -- minus the Barnacle Brothers -- and the security guards, who try their damnedest to keep the two apart. As the ringside area is finally cleared, cut back to the broadcast table.] TD: A shocking victory for Tony Starks in that match in the face of formidable teamwork by Timothy N. Turner and Duncan Macbeth -- but perhaps soured a little by Starks' refusal to release that Katha Jime. Thank goodness for Ike Sampson, Steve Roberts. SR: Thank goodness?! Starks finally shows the killer instinct he's been lacking since his "miracle return" from that back injury, and you want to thank Ike Sampson?! I like Turner, don't get me wrong, but I like nothing better than seeing my brothers come out on top! TD: Well, I have a feeling that we haven't seen the last of the situation between Tony Starks and Ike Sampson. What wild action we're gonna see next, folks. Steve Kowalski and Brody Thunder are gonna settle their intense rivalry in a falls count anywhere bout, the sort of match-up where chaos thrives. This one should be right up your alley, Steve Roberts. SR: If I was a sentimental man, Tim Dross, I would be weeping with     emotion right now. You just don't get to see the two most violent     and bloodthirsty wrestlers in ANY federation beating the living crap     outta each other on just any occasion. We're truly about to     witness a special moment in the history of the IIWF. TD: We may well witness some of the bloodiest moments in the history of     the IIWF. Let's go down to Sparkplug Lee for the introductions. ___ ___ | \/ |---------------------------------------------------------------. | \ /_|_ ___ FALLS COUNT ANYWHERE MATCH: | | |\/|| \/ | Steve "the Fury" Kowalski vs. "Lone Wolf" Brody Thunder | |_| || \ / | | | |\/| |---------------------------------------------------------' |_| |_| WRITER: RD [The camera cuts to centre ring, where Sparkplug Lee looks out over the sea of frenzied fans around him. The fans are already growing restless, particularly the hardcore contingent, itching for the bloodshed and mayhem in store for them. Sparkplug raises the mic to his lips.] RA: Ladies and gentlemen, the rules for the following contest: there are     none! [crowd pop]. No count outs and no disqualifications will be     recognised, and pinfalls count anywhere in the state! [another pop     from the crowd]. Introducing first, the special referee for this encounter... he is the Mexican sensation, he is... Hugo Hugo! [Huge pop for the diminutive referee, who bounces around the ring accepting the cheers of the crowd.] RA: And now, the competitors. First, hailing from Tombstone, Arizona; and weighing in at 265 lbs! The toughest damn hombre to ever come out of the desert and raise hell in a wrestling federation; please give him a big welcome, here is "Lone Wolf" Brody Thunder! [Huge pop from the crowd as the theme from "High Plains Drifter" thunders over the loudspeakers, and Brody Thunder makes his appearance. Thunder is all business tonight, dressed only in his plain black trunks with red lightning bolts on the side, his steely blue eyes reflecting a hardened glint; he's ready to brawl. Thunder wastes no time in covering the aisle, climbing straight into the ring and snatching the mic away from a nervous Sparkplug Lee. The "Furies" in the audience jeer Brody Thunder with a vengeance, the rest of the crowd combining with either fervent cheers or heel heat.] BT: Kowalski... it's time ta fight, hoss.  So I want ya ta bring jus'     two things down ta this here ring right now.  One is that thievin'     carcass o' yers fer the fight o' yer life. [Huge pop! Loud catcalls from the "Furies"!]     An' one other... is yer checkbook, 'cuz ace... ya got Hell ta pay     tonight an' yer lookin' at the Devil's own bill collector! TD: Brody sure sounds like he's ready for a fight... wait a minute, look     out! SR: Here comes Steve Kowalski, not even waiting for the official     introduction! He wants to get it on right now! [The roof tears off the Coliseum as Steve Kowalski rushes down the aisle, throwing an empty can of "Mooselips" over his shoulder as he does so, a blaze of pure fury in his eyes. Brody Thunder drops the mic and beckons his rampaging foe to bring it on! Huge pop from the crowd, with the "Furies" up on the feet, waving their beer cans in the air! Kowalski dives through the ropes and barrels hard into Brody Thunder, tackling him straight down to the mat! Thunder doesn't even bother to move aside, instead digging hooks into the liver of Steve Kowalski! Kowalski, in turn, unloads with the lefts and rights, pummelling Brody Thunder about his bald noggin! The two combatants struggle on the mat, striving to get into an advantageous position, all the while punching and clawing furiously at one another. Diminutive referee, Hugo Hugo, shakes his head and signals for the bell: Ding! Ding! Ding!] SR: Look at these crazy, mixed up guys going at it! This is what     wrestling is all about: two seriously disturbed psychopaths beating     each others brains into a bloody, grey mush! TD: I'm not sure if this is your classic style wrestling match, Steve,     but the fans sure seem to be loving it. [Steve Kowalski is atop Brody Thunder, pinning him to the mat by the throat with one hand, choking away viciously; his other hand simply bludgeoning Brody Thunder on the bridge of the nose. Thunder manages to bring a knee up, slamming it hard between Kowalski's legs. Kowalski groans and clutches at his groin, releasing his grip. Thunder whips his head forward and cracks Kowalski a solid headbutt right in the centre of his face! Kowalski rolls aside stunned and the Thunder fans pop like mad! Thunder reaches over and grabs the recently discarded microphone, leaping atop Steve Kowalski and pummeling him in the head with it! Shocked pop from the crowd as Thunder repeatedly bludgeons the "Fury's" forehead with the blunt instrument, a dull "Thud... Thud... Thud" echoing around the arena from the microphone!] SR: [laughing] This is great! TD: This is absolutely disgraceful! We've yet to see one pure wrestling     hold executed thus far in the match! SR: Well, Timbo, we could sit here and watch these guys trade armdrags,     hammerlocks and sushiganawa leglocks all night, but it just wouldn't     be Steve Kowalski vs. Brody Thunder! When these two guys are on the     marquee, all yer gonna see is a bonebreaking, headstomping,     eye-gouging, microphone in the head busting war of annihilation! [Brody Thunder tosses the microphone aside, dragging the suddenly groggy Steve Kowalski up to his feet. A trickle of red is already visible on the "Fury's" forehead! Thunder whips Kowalski to the ropes. Thunder charges in, meeting Kowalski on the rebound with a thunderous clothesline! The fans pop in awe, the punishingly stiff shot surely enough to take the head off any normal man! Kowalski staggers... sways... but stands firm! The fans are popping like crazy as Kowalski slowly shakes his head, a grim look on his face, and sticks his thumb right in Brody Thunder's eye! Brody howls and clutches at his face, but Kowalski lunges in, hooks the arms of his foe, gives a mighty heave, launching Thunder up into the air...] TD: Oh my goodness! That double-underhook suplex sent Brody Thunder     flying right out of the ring! SR: Oh man, that was awesome! Thunder hit the arena floor like a ton of     bricks! [The fans pop in shock as Brody Thunder sprawls out on the arena floor, landing hard and awkwardly on his back. Steve Kowalski pauses on the ropes for a moment, putting his hand to his head to check the extent of his wound. When his hand comes away all bloody, Kowalski gives a big, sadistic grin! Brody Thunder is struggling to regain his footing on the outside, pulling himself up with the aid of the steel guard rail. Steve Kowalski runs to the opposite ropes, bounding off the strands, charging across the ring and right through the ring ropes! Steve Kowalski, launching himself at Brody Thunder on the outside with tremendous velocity, bodilly colliding with his foe, both men driven back under the impact into the steel railings! The fans at ringside scatter as the barrier swings inwards, the rest simply pop in shock!] TD: This is absolutely insane! These guys don't even care about the     welfare of their own bodies! They'll do just about anything as long     as it hurts their opponent at least as much as it hurts themselves! SR: You've gotta be able to take yer bumps if ya wanna be a tough guy     in the wrestling ring, Dross! I just hope the stretcher team is     ready when Kowalski gets done breaking every bone in this cowpoke's     body! [Both men drag each other to their feet, exhanging hard punches to the head as they do so. Blood is now freely dripping down the face of Steve Kowalski, the cut aggravated further by each shot. Thunder clips Kowalski with a particularly nasty elbow to the jaw, rocking the "Fury" backwards and giving Brody the chance to grab hold of his arm, using it to whip Kowalski across the arena floor and into the steel guard rail! Once again, the barriers impact inwards and the fans scatter! Kowalski leans against the railing, breathing heavilly, trying to catch his wind as Thunder slips beneath the ring, apparently rummaging around for something...] TD: What on earth is Brody Thunder doing under the ring? SR: I bet he's got a chainsaw stashed away under there. Kick the motor     in on that baby and start shearing off some limbs, cowpoke! TD: Good grief. [Brody Thunder crawls back into open view, standing up and brandishing a big leather strap! The Thunder fans cheer him on, while the Fury fans hurl insults! A particularly fervent "Fury" at ringside pours his can of mooselips over Steve Kowalski's head in an attempt to revive him. Kowalski splutters, shakes his head, and staggers up off the guard rail brandishing his fists. Brody hauls back, and whips the leather strap across the chest of Kowalski, leaving a big red welt! The crack of the strap is audible right across the arena, and a collective gasp goes up from the crowd! Kowalski howls and clutches at his chest, but from Thunder there is no respite, and he wraps the leather strap right around the neck of the "Fury!". As the cowboy tightens the cord, Kowalski gags, and Brody charges over to the ring steps, dragging Kowalski with him as he goes. Brody gives a good heave on the strap, whipping Kowalski's head forward and cracking it right across the hard steel of the ring steps! A dull, meaty clang echoes across the arena, and a splash of Kowalski's blood spurts across the protective mat!] TD: This is an absolutely sickening spectacle! These men have absolutely     no respect for a competitive, clean, scientific match-up. They don't     even care who wins! All they care about is dishing out insane     amounts of punishment to each other! SR: Get used to it, man! This is the type of wrestling I wanna see!     The fans dig it, the "Soundbite" digs it; the only one ain't diggin'     it is you, Tim Dross! TD: Actually, I can see more than a few fans out in the audience are as     sickened by this spectacle as I am, Steve. SR: Well, they should have stayed home and watched lawn bowls! Ha! Steve     Kowalski is bleeding like a stuck pig in there, and Brody Thunder     will soon be joining him! This is great! [Brody places his boot on the chest of Steve Kowalski, pinning him down on the ring steps, and wrenches away with all his might on the leather strap, choking out his opponent! Kowalski gags and scrabbles at the cord wrapped tight around his throat, but to no avail. Brody Thunder smirks sadistically as he chokes the life out of his hated rival, the face of Steve Kowalski starting to go blue under the pressure. In an act of sheer desperation, fighting for his life, Kowalski grabs hold of the leg clamped down on his chest. Steve Kowalski, with all of the strength left in his choked out body, wrenches on Brody Thunder's leg, sending the cowboy off balance, toppling down to the mat! Thunder lets go of the strap as he drops, smashing the back of his head on the arena floor! Kowalski immediately unfastens the strap from around his neck, taking in big gulps of air; Thunder, meanwhile, rolls on the floor, grimacing and clutching his throbbing skull. Steve Kowalski staggers over to his foe, reeling dizzily for a moment, but soon regaining his balance. He dips into his trunks, and pulls out some sort of object, the spotlight glinting off the metal.] TD: What in the heck has Kowalski got in his hand? SR: It looks like a sharpened metal shiv! Bust Brody in the head with     it, Kowalski! Let's see some crimson flowing from the cowpoke's     skull! TD: You're a sick man, Steve Roberts. [Kowalski siezes hold of Brody Thunder by the ear, and drags him up with it! Brody grimaces in pain as his ear is nearly torn off! Kowalski, still clutching onto the side of Brody's head, hauls back with the shiv and then drives the pointy end right into the bald head of Brody Thunder, immediately opening a savage cut and sending a spurt of blood across the protective mat! Thunder staggers back, blood flowing into his eyes and blinding him. Kowalski throws the shiv aside, charges at Thunder, wrapping his arms around his foes head, and bulldogs him right at the foot of the aisle! Big Fury pop as Steve Kowalski stands up and pumps his fists to the air, Brody Thunder spread-eagled and motionless on the concrete! Kowalski goes for the cover, and Hugo Hugo darts in to make the count: 1 - 2 -] TD: Brody Thunder kicks out! There's some stern stuffing in the skull     of this cowboy, Steve Roberts! I deplore the tactics of these men,     but only a fool would dispute their ability to absorb punishment. SR: Brody Thunder doesn't even have anything inside his skull, Timbo!     Mad Dog Watkins whupped him so bad, his brain felt out of his ear!     That's why he can take all kinds of punishment and not even notice! [Steve Kowalski gets up, dragging his foe with him, both men dripping with blood as they stagger out into the aisle. Kowalski swings a wild haymaker at Brody Thunder, who ducks beneath it and drives a knee hard into the "Fury's" midsection. Kowalski doubles over, and Thunder grabs him around the head, executing a swinging neckbreaker right on the concrete floor of the aisle! Shocked pop from the fans! Thunder stomps on Kowalski's midsection a couple of times, then drags him up again, this time hauling him up into the air in a piledriver position. The fans roar with approval as Thunder brutally drives Kowalski's head into the concrete!] SR: Oh man! That's a career-ending shot right there! TD: That made me wince! These shots are so brutal I can almost feel them     myself! [Kowalski spasms a little on the concrete floor, his spine perhaps undergoing trauma from the punishing piledriver. Brody Thunder goes for the cover: 1 - 2 - kickout by Steve Kowalski! The fans leap to their feet with a huge pop! Brody gets up, blood dripping down his forehead, and looks down at his foe with disbelief. He can't believe Steve Kowalski is still a living man after that piledriver!] SR: What intensity from these competitors! What a display of raw     endurance on the part of Steve Kowalski, taking a neckbreaker, AND a     piledriver right on the concrete, and he's still in this fight!     Unbelievable! TD: I'm starting to feel a little nauseous inside, Steve. This match     should be stopped before either of these guys is seriously hurt. SR: Stopped? You wanna stop the match now? Are you crazy, Dross? We're     only just getting started! [Brody Thunder looks around at the screaming fans all around him, he looks down at his blood-coated opponent, writhing in pain down on the concrete floor, and he does what any natural born bar-room brawler would do in such a situation -- he starts to kick seven shades of snot out of Steve Kowalski! The fans pop in horror as Brody Thunder starts laying in the boots to the ribs of Steve Kowalski, screaming at him to "Get the [BLEEP] up!". Kowalski, trying to crawl away from his crazed opponent, inches his way up the aisle, but Brody Thunder just keeps driving his boot hard into the body of the "Fury". Brody, screaming like a madman, kicks his opponent all the way to the top of the aisle! Steve Kowalski now almost motionless, his body wracked with pain, is barely able to curl up into a ball to fend off the relentless assault of Brody Thunder! The "Lone Wolf" pumps his fists to the air and yells out in triumph to a big pop from his following, and deafening jeers from the "Furies" in attendance. Thunder leaves his opponent, heading back down the aisle to...] TD: What on earth does Brody Thunder have in store for Kowalski now,     Steve Roberts? What kind of hell is this madman going to raise next? SR: He's grabbing a steel chair! He's folding up that steel chair, and     he's gonna wrap it right round the skull of Steve Kowalski! Oh man! [Thunder heads back up the aisle with the steel chair, Steve Kowalski desperately trying to pull himself back to his feet. Steve Kowalski is up on his knees... Brody Thunder lunging towards him... Crunch! Thunder lands an awesome shot with the steel chair, smashing it across the skull of Steve Kowalski, dropping him like a cannon shot! Thunder tosses the chair aside, which appears to be somewhat mangled after impacting with the head of Steve Kowalski! Thunder hauls up his bloody, comatose opponent, dragging him over to an announcing table, tucked away near the foot of the aisle, where two foreign commentators jabber away excitedly.] SR: Who the hell are those guys? I've never seen them before! TD: That's our faithful Guatemalan announcing team, broadcasting all of     our great IIWF action to the millions of wrestling fans over in     Guatemala. And a great job of it they make too. [As one of the Guatemalan announcers exclaims "Shoot, Aramajipal! Shoot!" in his native tongue; Brody Thunder signals to the fans, drawing his hand across his throat in the universal langauge that means "the end is nigh". The fans pop crazilly as Brody tucks the head of the near comatose Steve Kowalski under his arm.] TD: Oh my goodness, Brody Thunder is going to put the Cattlebuster DDT     on Steve Kowalski right through the Guatamalean announcer's table! SR: This it it! If Brody executes his finisher, it's all over for the     "Next Big Thing!" [Brody Thunder rocks backwards, leaping into the air to add extra impact, using Steve Kowalski's head to plunge right through the table... the wood splitting right in half and sending splinters flying through the air! Massive, massive awed pop from the crowd! The Guatamalean announcers leap clear, and thousands of Guatamalens in some corner of the globe go silent as their commentary is abruptly cut off. Steve Kowalski is lying spread-eagled and unconscious amidst the splintered table, and Brody Thunder goes for the pin. Hugo Hugo leaps in and makes the count...] TD: That's One... SR: That's Two... TD: That's Thr... No way! No way on this earth! SR: Steve Kowalski has kicked out! Kowalski has kicked out! TD: Look at Brody Thunder! Look at the fans! Nobody can believe this!     I'm going hoarse with all this excitement! [The crowd are on their feet, no longer seeming to be cheering for anyone in particular, but just giving vent to a deafening roar, completely stupified by the insane intensity of both Brody Thunder and Steve Kowalski. Brody Thunder is backing away in shock, and the "Fury" is getting up to his feet, picking himself up from the carnage, his head a bloody mess; but through the crimson mask can be clearly seen... Steve Kowalski is grinning!] SR: Ha! Ha! He loves it, Tim Dross! You bust Steve Kowalski up and he     just laughs at ya! He loves violence, and it doesn't matter if     it's being dealt out to him or somebody else, he just loves it! I'm     completely in awe of this man! TD: I... I... I am at a loss for words, Steve Roberts! After all the     punishment Steve Kowalski has taken; after being Cattlebusted right     through that table... the man has a big smile on his face! Clearly     something is not quite right in the head of Steve Kowalski! [Kowalski takes a few unsteady steps towards Brody Thunder, and wades straight into a brawl; both men, dripping blood, battered beyond belief, but still trading shots in a frenzy! Steve Kowalski, landing an overhand right, a kick to the midsection, and a left hook; but Brody Thunder taking the fight right back to his opponent, rocking him with a flurry of punches to the head and abdomen! Kowalski turns the tide with a well placed kick between the legs, and as Brody Thunder groans and doubles up, Kowalski scoops him up and charges towards the back wall, launching himself into the air, powerslamming Brody Thunder right into the concrete wall! The "Furies" roar with approval! Kowalski pumps his fist to the air, then turns and begins to repeatedly smash Thunder's head into the wall! Kowalski siezes hold of Thunder, and slings him right through the arena entrance, stepping through himself, out into the concession area, pummelling Thunder back as he does so. Hugo Hugo nimbly follows behind, keeping a close eye on the action.] SR: And we're taking the fight right out in the concession area, where     there's sure to be many fine foreign objects worth weilding around     with callous abandon! TD: This match is completely out of control! This isn't wrestling, it's     violent mayhem sanctioned by our so-called officials! It makes     me sick! SR: Aw, put a lid on it, Drossy. [Steve Kowalski continues pummelling away at Brody Thunder, forcing him backwards, but the cowboy just refuses to drop. Kowalski delivers a mighty uppercut to the chin of Brody Thunder, and finally the "Lone Wolf" is sent sprawling off his feet, crashing over one of the concession stands. A counterhand flees for cover as the two maniacs set about laying waste to the concession stand. Kowalski grabs up the mustard and laughs as he squirts it into the eyes of Brody Thunder. Thunder writhes around and tries to wipe the painful foreign substance out of his eyes. Kowalski is relentless, however, and siezes up an open bucket of ketchup, slamming it over the head of Brody Thunder! Thunder staggers around blindly with the bucket of ketchup stuck over his head, blood and sauce spilling all over his shoulders.] TD: This is just getting plain ridiculous! SR: This is just getting plain funny! [Kowalski takes a moment to watch in amusement as Brody Thunder blunders about, and then kicks him hard in the rump, sending him crashing back over the counter. Kowalski immediately leaps up onto the counter himself, hauling Brody Thunder up into the air in a suplex position, leaping off the counter...] TD: Oh my goodness! This is insane! [...planting Brody Thunder, head first, or rather, bucket first, into the ground with a brainbuster suplex! The bucket finally comes loose from Brody's head, but he shudders and goes still. Hugo Hugo registers the count as Steve Kowalski makes the cover...] SR: That has got to be it! That was the most vicious looking suplex I     have ever seen! It was a tribute to tough guy wrestlers everywhere! TD: He's got the two count... SR: No! No way! Brody Thunder has kicked out! [The fans back in the arena explode in a shocked pop! Steve Kowalski gets up from his foe, utterly exhausted, staring in disbelief at the resilency of Brody Thunder. Once again, he drags his opponent up, Brody Thunder lolling in his grasp, barely able to stand. Kowalski batters Thunder with a couple of straight rights, and then slings him, out through the open glass doors and into the parking lot! Kowalski warily follows, Hugo Hugo at his heels, full of beans as ever.] SR: They're taking the fight outside! Hey, Kowalski! See that Ford Pinto     over there? That belongs to Billy Shakespeare. Put a few dents in it     for me, would ya? TD: I'm still trying to get some kind of grip on the mayhem we're     witnessing here, as Kowalski and Thunder take the fight out into the     parking lot... this match way out of control a long time ago, in my     opinion. [Brody Thunder staggers up to his feet, up from the concrete. Kowalski moves in. Thunder with a jab and a straight right. Kowalski with a left hook... misses, but delivers a right uppercut to the midsection. Thunder aims a right haymaker at Kowalski's head, but the "Fury" blocks it, catching the cowboy's hand! Huge crowd pop as Kowalski ducks forward, clinches his arms under Brody Thunder's, and gives a nod to the camera...] TD: Oh my goodness! It looks like Steve Kowalski is gonna Skullpump     Brody Thunder right in the parking lot! This is terrible! SR: Awesome! This is it for the cowboy formerly known as Brody Thunder! [Kowalski digs his heels in, his face contorts with the effort, and he heaves Brody Thunder up into the air, bringing his head plunging down to the concrete with the devestating Skullpump double underhook piledriver finisher! Huge pop from the "Furies" back in the arena, cries of dismay from the Brody Thunder fans, as Steve Kowalski blasts his foe with frightening intensity. Thunder is completely motionless in the parking lot, the end surely at hand after that Skullpump on the concrete. Hugo Hugo dives to make the count: 1 - 2 -] SR: That's thre... no! Brody Thunder has kicked out! That cow     molesting, braindead sack of crap has actually kicked out after a     Skullpump piledriver... a Skullpump on the concrete! TD: Look at the intensity of Brody Thunder! He's bloodied, he's     battered, his head has been driven... driven into the concrete...     and he's still going! Unbelievable! SR: I don't believe it, Timbo. I refuse to believe it! [Steve Kowalski rolls off Brody Thunder, the last of his energy being spent in executing his finisher, his face too fatigued to even register the shock of Brody Thunder's kick out. Both men just lie there, utterly exhausted, blood covering their faces, matting their hair, and dripping down their torsos. Hugo Hugo begins to count.] TD: This match could go either way at this point! Which begs the     question: will it ever end? Maybe these guys will just keep beating     on each other until they're dead! SR: Well, both these guys look like they're about to knock on the pearly     gates! They're all sealed over and covered in goo like canned ham!     They've shivered their last timber! The grim reaper is about to... TD: [Interrupting] No look! Brody Thunder is stirring! [Brody Thunder, indeed is struggling up to his feet, his body so battered it's painful even to move - but his face is marked with grim resolution. Steve Kowalski turns his head, and wide-eyed, notes his slowly recovering foe. Kowalski begins to struggle to his feet in turn! Back in the arena, the roar of the crowd is deafening as they watch the Jumbotron screens anxiously. Brody Thunder staggers up, stagger right up to the camera, just as Steve Kowalski lurches up behind him. The image swerves unsteadilly as Brody Thunder wrenches the camera from the hands of the cameraman! The image can be barely made out, swerving crazilly, as Brody Thunder hauls back with the camera and blasts Kowalski right across the skull with it! At the moment of impact, the picture fizzes out and goes black. The fans roar with disapproval, unable to see what the hell is going on, only able to hear the sound mic picking up several loud bumps!] SR: What the... what the heck is going on out there? TD: It appears Brody Thunder has busted up the camera beyond repair.     Somethings going on... SR: We've gotta get another cameraman out there! I wanna see what's     happening! [The picture on the Jumbotron abruptly changes, switching to another camera viewpoint as a second cameraman runs up to the scene, his camera shaking around unsteadilly like home made footage. Brody Thunder and Steve Kowalski are both stretched out motionless on the concrete once again, a busted up camera lying next to them, and running away from the scene... is a man holding a tire iron! He turns back to look at the scene of carnage, revealing the now familiar smiley face mask and a T-shirt bearing the words: "Be Afraid. Be Very Afraid." Hugo Hugo is counting, and reaches seven.] SR: What the... That's the guy who laid out Ike Sampson and Creed several weeks ago! What the hell has happened here? TD: Crazy scenes here at Midsummer Madness! It appears that this bizarre     masked man -- who it is I can't quite fathom -- has struck again!     Seemingly without any kind of motive! [Hugo Hugo reaches the count of nine, the crowd popping in confusion.] TD: Kowalski and Thunder are both about to be counted out! [Hugo Hugo reaches the count of ten, and waves his arms about. Back in the arena, the bell tolls: Ding! Ding! Ding!] TD: It's all over! It's over! SR: What the... who won? What kind of finish is this to for a match? [The camera cuts back to centre ring, where Sparkplug Lee takes up the mic.] RA: Ladies and gentlemen! As a result of a double-knockout, with both     Steve Kowalski and Brody Thunder unable to continue at the     count of ten, this match has been declared a draw! [Huge roar of disapproval from the fans, many of who pelt paper cups at Sparkplug Lee in frustration. The ring announcer scurries out of the ring in a panic. On the Jumbotron screen, a team of IIWF security guards can be seen helping Steve Kowalski and Brody Thunder back inside the Coliseum. Cut back to the broadcast table at ringside.] TD: Yet again, inexplicable scenes here at Midsummer Madness. SR: What a crock, Dross. Who the hell was that interfering in that match? TD: I have no idea -- but apparently the man who just weeks ago eliminated Ike Sampson and Creed in order to assist Mad Dog Watkins to the Intercontinental Championship also has an axe to grind with both Steve Kowalski and Brody Thunder. We'll try to get to the bottom of this one, folks. Right now, however, we're coming up to the end of our first hour. We'll be back in just a few moments with our next elimination match. Don't move a muscle! [Cut to a wide-angle view of the crowd as various fans make their way to and fro around the concession stands and aisleways. Fade.] +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= I * I * W * F =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-+ | President: Daniel Spreadbury | Vice-President: Jim Jividen | | univ0322@sable.ox.ac.uk | brokeback@webtv.net | | iiwf@sisko.demon.co.uk | | +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- http://www.sisko.demon.co.uk -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=+