________ ______ __ ____ ___ __ . _ ___ | || |\ \ /\ / /| __| / /\ | | || \| \ /\ \ / |\ || / \| | | | || | \ v v / | __| \__ /__\ | | ||__/| |/__\ v | \||| __|-| | |_||_| \_/\_/ |_| \ \| v | \|__/ \| | || \_|| | | __________________________/...hour two...\........|...|.......|....| LIVE! Saddledome, Calgary, Alberta, Canada September 27 1997 [The opening graphics fade from the screen as the shot mixes through to further interior shots of the Saddledome. The house lights drop, and another burst of pyrotechnics erupts in the rafters, sparks in a multitude of colours raining down on the fans, dying out and disappearing seemingly just feet above their heads. Bright spotlights swing over the sea of fans, casting them in kaleidoscopic colours... and over these scenes comes once more the voice of Tim Dross:] TD: Welcome back to the Saddledome, folks! Twenty thousand fans are on hand here tonight, and what action they've already witnessed -- with plenty more to come, including the mysterious Masked Outlaw in action, and that huge over-the-top battle royal! [Cut back to the broadcast table at ringside.] TD: It's time to get back to the ring again, as Otto Verhoeven and the massive Tonnage are scheduled to square off. SR: As tough as a bastich as Verhoeven is, I gotta give this one to Tonnage. There's more meat than Butcher in this match. TD: We've seen Otto face off against big men before, but never this big. Let's get to Sparkplug Lee for the announcement of the wrestlers. ________ ______ | || |\ \ /\ / /| __|.................................................. | || | \ v v / | __| Otto "the Butcher" Verhoeven vs. Tonnage |_||_| \_/\_/ |_|.................................................... WRITER: RR [Scene cuts to Lee, who is standing in the ring with his cue cards. He clears his throat loudly into the microphone, then begins to read from the prompts.] RA: Ladies and gentlemen, this match is scheduled for one fall. Introducing first, 7 feet tall, and weighing in at a massive 565 pounds... Accompanied to the ring by Little Louie, this is TONNAGE! [The monster from Albany, New York strides out of the locker room, his manager by his side. About halfway to the ring, however, a huge heel pop erupts from the crowd as The Butcher erupts from the locker room and charges down the aisle, tackling Tonnage from behind and driving him to the ground with a classic football strip tackle. He quickly begins pounding on his the fallen behemoth with hard lefts and rights to the back of the head, forcing Tonnage to cover up and Little Louie to try and drag Verhoeven off his man. Lee grabs the microphone and continues the announcements, all the while staring intently at the brawl in the aisle.] RA: AndhisopponentcomingRIGHTNOWdowntheaisle... Otto Verhoeven! [This said, Lee dives from the ring as Otto gets up, shoves Louie out of the way, and grabs Tonnage by the back of his singlet, leading him towards the ring and rolling him in under the bottom rope. Verhoeven climbs in afterwards, continuing to pound at Tonnage, with the bigger man slowly trying to get to his feet while shielding himself from the flurry of blows the Butcher is laying upon him.] TD: And the Butcher is wasting no time here, taking the fight right to Tonnage! SR: Good move by Otto... if he can keep Tonnage off his feet, he'll be able to... whoa! [Roberts can almost be heard wincing in the announcers' booth as Tonnage manages to bring himself up to his feet, shrug off a blow by Verhoeven, and club the Butcher up the side of the head with a meaty forearm that sends Otto stumbling backwards. Another follows, and another, and in mere moments the momentum of the match has shifted to the quarter-ton monster. Tonnage shakes his head, as if to clear out the last of the cobwebs left by Verhoeven's aggressive attack earlier, then plants a boot into Otto's breadbasket, causing him to slump down in the corner and clutch at his gut. Tonnage takes a few steps backwards, measures Otto up, and charges forward with an avalance, crushing the Butcher between his girth and the turnbuckle.] TD: Otto needs to get back on his feet if he wants to stay in this match. otherwise, it's going to be a... SR: [interrupting] If you even THINK of breathing the word "squash", Dross, I will personally tear that ferret off your head and light it on fire. [Verhoeven struggles to catch his breath in the ring as Tonnage steps forward and grabs him in a bear hug, carrying him to the center of the ring and holding him up in the air while crushing as hard as he can. The referee moves in to check for a submission, but gets nothing but an extremely loud "NEIN!" from Verhoeven.] SR: Did he just submit? TD: No, I'll have you know that "Nein" is German for "No." SR: Oh, I thought it was how many whole turkeys he could see down Tonnage's throat. [Tonnage, a bit disenheartened by his opponent's stubborn unwillingness to give up, decides that it's time to end this move, and does to... by running Otto straight into one of the turnbuckles. He doesn't let go, and turns around, running him into the other turnbuckle at the far side, then tosses Otto into the center of the ring like a rag doll.] TD: He's setting him up for the Gigaton Crush! SR: Break out the spatulas, baby dolls. Tonnage is gonna... TD: Miss! He missed the splash! [Indeed, Dross does not lie. Tonnage rebounds off the ropes and launches himself into the air, but finds himself eating canvas as his target is no longer there. Verhoeven rolls to the side at ther last minute, and crawls slowly to his feet as Tonnage slams into the mat next to him. Standing shakily, and gingerly feeling his ribs, Verhoeven looks down at the slowly rising giant in the ring, and launches himself into a full run at the opposite ropes, then rebounds back and football clips Tonnage's knee out from under him as he gets back up. The big man goes down again, barely missing Otto on the way down, and the Butcher takes this opportunity to roll out of the ring, grabbing Tonnage's leg the entire time. He strains will all his might to pull the big man over towards the corner, then winds up and *slams* his leg against the metal ring post, once, twice, and a third time for good measure before the referee is able to get him away. As the referee climbs back into the ring, however, Verhoeven quickly spins around, grabs a folding chair, and rams it into Tonnage's knee, then deposits it back on the ground before the referee can turn around and see it.] SR: That's what I like about Otto. Always willing to get a cheap shot in. [Verhoeven rolls into the ring after the referee climbs back in, calmly telling him to ignore the protests of Little Louie on the outside. Tonnage pulls himself up to his feet using the corner ropes, but is met by a vicious kick to the knee by the Butcher, then another, dropping him back down to a kneeling position. The Butcher hauls back ad winds up, then slams a hard right hook to Tonnage's head, and pounces on the fallen form while the referee gets in position to count the cover.] TD: One... two... no! And Tonnage kicks out on two. SR: It'll take more than a few punches to keep Tonnage down. Probably more of a rocket launcher. Or duct tape. That stuff could even keep your lousy rug on straight. TD: It's not on str... never mind. [While Roberts giggles hysterically to himself, Verhoeven stands back up in the ring, and begins brutally kicking at Tonnage, aiming for the ribs and the leg he had been working over earlier. He grabs the leg, stands up over Tonnage, and falls forward, locking a arm-bar style hold on Tonnage's massive leg, causing the larger man to howl in pain on the mat. When it becomes evident that he won't submit, Otto stands up again, then lunges forward, slamming right hand after right hand into Tonnage's face before finally rolling off and standing baove his fallen opponent again. He grabs at Tonnage's boot and drags him slowly to the center of the ring, looks down at him, and leaps into the air, dropping a knee across Tonnage's injured leg.] SR: Take the wheels out, man. It's the second best way of dropping a big guy. TD: I'm afraid to ask... what's the best way? SR: Shovel to the back of the skull. [Verhoeven finally pulls Tonnage to his feet, still kicking at the injured leg, and backs him against the ropes, laying two or three more stiff punches into him before whipping him to the other side. Tonnage goes down onto the hurt knee and reverses the whip, sending Verhoeven against the far ropes. The Butcher rebounds off, but is picked up by Tonnage and dropped straight down in a powerslam. Tonnage gets up, leaving the winded Verhoeven on the mat, and bounds off the ropes, jumping up into a...] TD: Big splash by Tonnage! This could be it! [The referee dives to the mat, slapping the canvas once... twice... and stopping mere fractions of an inch away from it a third time as Verhoeven managed to twist a shoulder up off the mat at the last moment. A huge heel pop goes up from the crowd as Tonnage pulls Otto to his feet, clubbing at him again with those massive forearms... then pops again as Verhoeven starts to fire back with right hands to the head! Both men are staggered, throwing shot after shot, until Otto stops short and ducks a Tonnage swipe and slips behind him, running off the ropes and levelling him with a lariat to the back of the head.] SR: Well, it's almost like a shovel. [Verhoeven stands up and quickly grabs Tonnage's leg, twisting around int a half-Boston Crab maneuver, straining to throw as much of his weight back as possible as the veins become evident on the Butcher's neck. Tonnage howls in pain, reaching for the ropes, but is unable to get to them, and the referee finally jumps up in the air, signalling for the bell. Ding! Ding! Ding!] TD: He got him! Verhoeven got the submission! RA: Ladies and gentlemen, the winner of this match, as a result of a submission... Otto "The Butcher" Verhoeven!" [Otto drops the hold immediately and rolls out of the ring, raising both his arms up into the air in victory. Tonnage slowly climbs to his feet in the ring, helped by his manager, adn Otto makes his way back down the aisle to the locker room as the chords to "Halloween" blare out over the loudspeaker.] TD: Well, Steve Roberts, I don't think we've ever seen Otto Verhoeven win a match by submission before. SR: He's a better wrestler than most give him credit for, Dross. Sure, the guy can go -- few can go better than the Butcher -- but Otto can twist ya, bend ya and break ya with the best of them. TD: Indeed. Tonnage now, being helped from the ring by Little Louie -- I don't think he was fully prepared for the ferocity of the onslaught from Verhoeven. I can only imagine that the Butcher is all bent out of shape about the Masked Outlaw, who is scheduled up next. By the way, Steve, while we have a brief break I'd like to broach a topic.... SR: If you're into that kinky stuff, Dross, go back in the showers with Quigley. TD: What? No! I meant my nephew Ross is a big fan of yours -- we've attempted to break him of it -- but he'd like to be an intern next summer. Apparently, he's been watching young Summer and.... SR: What's the little reject's name? TD: Steve Summer? SR: No, I meant your nepotism lovin' little rugrat relative. TD: Ross. SR: Ross Dross? TD: Yes. Ross Dross. SR: And he would be the son of.... TD: Hoss. Hoss Dross. SR: Can't do it, baby dolls. Just like that nephew Becks brought on the set that time... what was his name? TD: Bucky... Bucky LaRue. SR: Yeah... it ain't gonna work out. Ross Dross. Ross Dross. [changes his voice to a high squeak] Ross Dross. For starters, Drossy, the kid would have to change his name. "Marv Albert" has already been taken and just like little Ross, he bites too! TD: Actually, he's 35 years old. And stop picking on Marv Albert. He's a personal friend. SR: Oh yeah, how _personal_? TD: Stop that! The man's career is ruined. SR: I hear he'll be on the first manned probe to Uranus. TD: Wha...?! You're disguting! SR: Space exploration, Drossy. Get your mind out of the gutter. ________ ______ | || |\ \ /\ / /| __|.................................................. | || | \ v v / | __| "Masked Outlaw" vs. "Majestic" Maurice McArthur |_||_| \_/\_/ |_|.................................................... WRITER: SO TD: Okay, okay, I'm told we're almost ready for our next match anyway, and what a match it should be! This "Masked Outlaw" who has caused such a stir in the IIWF in recent weeks is finally going to face an opponent tonight. SR: And you gotta hand it to Triple M for picking up the banner of Team Sychosys after Joe Petrow dropped a tough screwjob against some blonde guy last week. TD: That would be IIWF World Heavyweight Champion Requiem. And the masked man played no small role in that outcome. He's interfered on Requiem's behalf more than once and even has the champ looking over his shoulder. SR: Do you really think Genesis doesn't know who this masked goon is? Maybe it's really Scott Rogers or Serge Annis. It could all be a big ploy by Genesis. TD: Regardless, it has driven Requiem to leave Genesis and stand on his own. SR: Yeah, another scam. Everyone who believes Requiem has left Genesis, go jump into the Calgary Gorge. [turning to members of the Genesis Generation in the crowd] Hey you idiots, I'm talking to you! TD: It's just a credit to the IIWF front office that this match was signed. SR: It _wasn't_ signed. I understand there was only a verbal contract with the masked buffoon. He may not even show up tonight. TD: Well, let's find out right now as we go up to Sparkplug Lee for our introductions. [Sparkplug Lee is using his index finger to clear some popcorn pieces from a back molar when the spotlight hits him. He quickly recovers, spitting a half-popped kernel out of the ring, and raises his microphone as Steve Miller's "Joker" kicks in over the PA. Big pop!] RA: Ladies and gentlemen, the following grudge match is scheduled for one fall and a thirty minute time limit. Introducing first, hailing from the New England area and weighing in at 230 pounds, here is... "Majestic" Maurice McArthur! [Triple M enters the Saddledome with a determined look and carrying a paper bag. He pauses momentarily, looking behind him as if expecting Joe Petrow to burst through the portal at any second. Finally, he turns and makes his way down the aisle and to the ring, seemingly ignoring the smattering of "Do it for Joe" yells that come from the stands. Despite that encouragement, there seems to be no organized group of "Sychopaths" in the crowd. Still, McArthur gets a good pop as he reaches into the bag and places a six-pack of Mooselips beer on the ring apron outside his corner. He genuflects in front of the six-pack, wipes away a tear and jumps into the ring.] TD: A very emotional scene there from Triple M, who seems to already miss Joe Petrow. SR: Petrow _made_ McArthur, Dross. He lifted him from the primordial ooze that is the Jobber Justice Squad -- hey, no offense, Smooth -- and elevated him to... mid-card status. No greater gift can be sought and no greater gift can go unrecognized. TD: That's very poetic, Steve. SR: Yeah, I talks good. [While Triple M sadly looks down at the six-pack of Mooselips, Sparkplug Lee once again raises the microphone.] RA: And his opponent, hailing from parts unknown and weighing in at an estimated 330 pounds, he is the man known only as The Masked Outlaw. [All eyes turn toward the entry portal, but the lights in Saddledome suddenly go out. A murmur runs through the crowd.] TD: What the...? SR: Power outage, Drossy. Happens up here all the time. Damn backwoods little.... [Roberts is cut off as the lights suddenly snap back on. The murmur grows into a heel pop as the crowd looks to see the masked man in the black cowboy hat and gray trenchcoat standing in the ring, pointing directly at McArthur.] SR: It's Deathbringer! That's his entrance! I knew it all along! TD: I thought you said it was... SR: He's trying to get around this suspension by wearing that getup and mask. Someone get Peanut Butter Jelly out here! TD: Who? Oh, you mean Poutine Janois. Steve, there is no proof that it's Deathbringer in the ring. Maybe we'll get some clue when he takes off his coat. SR: Or maybe not. [The masked man sheds his coat, only to reveal a black, full-body outfit. It is evident that he is tall and well-muscled, but the outfit hides any distinguishing characteristics. The two wrestlers meet in the middle of the ring and referee Earl Alfonso eyes the masked man suspiciously before calling for the ring bell.] TD: Physically, he could be any number of big men in the IIWF. But he could also be someone we've never seen before. Perhaps his ring mannerisms will help us determine who this man is. SR: Deathbringer wrestling while suspended. This is going to get him kicked out of the IIWF for good! Hey Maurice, unmask him! [McArthur looks over at the broadcasters' table trying to hear what Roberts said, only to be startled by the masked man's hand around his throat. McArthur is hoisted high into the air and slammed into the mat.] TD: Chokeslam! Triple M didn't even see it coming! SR: How much more proof do you need? It's obvious that... [A huge pop resonates around the Saddledome as the crowd stands to see what's going on. A spotlight picks out the massive form of Otto Verhoeven walking slowly down the aisle, watching the action. The masked man in the ring looks up and spreads his arms out, giving Verhoeven a good look at him, but the Teutonic Terror folds his arms and stops as he nears ringside.] TD: Perhaps no one is more upset with this masked man than Otto Verhoeven. After all, this "Outlaw" cost Verhoeven the world title at Midsummer Madness. SR: And don't forget that it was Deathbringer who lost the belt to Verhoeven last year, so Deathbringer cooked this whole thing up to retaliate and cost Verhoeven the belt. Well payback's a bitch, Dross. The dead man can't escape Verhoeven tonight. [The masked man smiles at Verhoeven through his mask, barely noticing that McArthur has recovered and is firing some weak punches to his midsection. He again turns his attention to McArthur and floors him with a solid right hand. He lifts McArthur to his feet, whips him into the ropes and plants a boot in Triple M's face on the return. He bounces off the ropes himself and drops a leg across the Majestic One's throat.] SR: Wait a minute! It's the bald, blonde guy! Damn! TD: I really don't think.... SR: Get my agent on the phone! There ain't enough biscuits in this fed for both of us! [Another big pop echoes around the Saddledome as a spotlight picks out Edmund Fitzgerald of Cold Spell making his way to the ring area. Fitz pauses as he see Otto Verhoeven standing nearby, then walks in the opposite direction and watches the action.] TD: Now Edmund Fitzgerald wants a closer look. Of course, _he_ believes the masked man is really Casey James, half of the tag team that took the IIWF belts from Cold Spell at Midsummer Madness. SR: Oh yeah, Casey would take the belts from Cold Spell and then help Requiem. [yelling at Fitz] Great logic, Sherlock! Any idea where Carmen Sandiego is? [Fitz ignores Roberts, but looks up in the ring to see the masked man whip McArthur into the ropes and catch him in a bearhug, then drop him in a crotch slam. McArthur crosses his legs and teeters precariously as the big man bounces off the ropes and delivers a powerful clothesline that floors Triple M.] TD: Triple M just cannot seem to mount any offense against this monster. It's almost as if he's lost without Joe Petrow. SR: Who cares, Dross? Watch the moves! Highwayman's bearhug. Serge Annis' crotch slam. Any big man's clothesline. This guy is a member of Genesis. There ain't no doubt about that! TD: I don't know what to believe any more. SR: Deathbringer thinks he was Highwayman in a previous life and came back as Serge Annis to join Genesis. It's that channeling crap. Damn, I am so brilliant I scare myself sometimes! TD: You're beginning to scare me _all_ the time. Oh my, look at that -- a Cattlebuster! [The masked man again pulls McArthur to his feet and drapes an arm around his neck before delivering a punishing DDT. He rolls McArthur over and puts a hand on his chest as Alfonso drops for the count: 1 - 2 - No! The masked man pulls McArthur up and draws a warning from the senior referee. It is met with a sick grin from beneath the mask. The big man lifts McArthur for a suplex, holding him inverted for nearly 10 seconds before dropping him hard on his back.] TD: This man is punishing Maurice McArthur. There's no call for this. SR: Hey, we've never seen Tonnage and the masked man at the same time. TD: That's not even a possibility. SR: Creed? [Dross stifles a laugh as the masked man stands in front of McArthur and delivers a European uppercut. To his credit, Maurice does not go down, but the masked man spins him around and hits...] TD: A Syndi-Cutter! That was a version of the Syndi-Cutter which Casey James and Tiger Claw introduced last week! SR: Great. So we know this guy was watching the show last week. [The masked man finally rolls McArthur on his back and rests his own head against Triple M's chest, extending his arms as if expecting applause. Alfonso drops again for the count: 1 - 2 - 3! Ding! Ding! Ding!] RA: Here is your winner, by pinfall, the Masked Outlaw. [The masked man is quickly to his feet and turns in the ring, still with his arms extended, accepting the heel pop coming from the Saddledome crowd. An emergency medical team is summoned to tend to Triple M, who has the presence of mind to grab the six-pack of Mooselips before blacking out as he was kicked from the ring.] TD: That was quite an impressive showing by this big man, but we still don't have any clue about who he is. I think it's just a matter of time before... hey, we may find out sooner than expected! [A huge pop accompanies the arrival of Brody Thunder, Mad Dog Watkins and Steve Kowalski, all of whom fly down the aisle, brushing aside the emergency medical workers as the three jump into the ring. The Masked Outlaw sees this and heads for the safety of the unguarded side, only to notice Otto Verhoeven waiting outside the ring. The masked man quickly looks for an alternate escape route -- but finds none!] TD: They've got this man trapped! There's no escape! SR: Unless the lights go out and he disappears. I've seen Deathbringer do it a zillion times -- gets more boring every time. TD: That may be his _only_ hope. With Brody Thunder's title shot just a week away, these three men seem intent on making sure that this masked man doesn't help Requiem again. [Thunder, Kowalski and Watkins slowly back the masked man, who looks quickly left and right for an escape route, into the far corner. The trio then charge him, pinning him in the corner and tearing at his mask.] TD: They've got him trapped! We're going to find out who has been under that mask right here on IIWF Saturday Night. SR: You mean we're not about to go off the air and leave it a great mystery for another week? TD: No. SR: Ooh, that's gonna hurt the IIWF Hotline income this month. [Brody Thunder finally grabs the top of the loosened mask and uses it to hurl the Outlaw toward the middle of the ring. As the big man's body hits the mat, Thunder is left with an empty mask in his hand. A nasty grin forms on his face as he recognizes the unmasked man and a collective gasp from the crowd seems to pull the oxygen from the arena.] SR: Oh, sweet mother of god, no...! TD: I can't believe it! It's.... SR: No, this has to be some dream. TD: You can't deny it, Steve Roberts. It's right there in front of you! SR: No, no, no... TD: Finally, we know who the Masked Outlaw is! It _is_ Casey James! [Sure enough, Casey James is on the mat in front of Thunder, Kowalski, and Watkins, trying desperately to cover his face, but to no avail. The crowd gives a mixed pop, not so much because the reaction is divided, but more because nobody is sure just what is happening. James backs up into the corner and falls to his knees, holding his hands up in the classic "I'm a bad heel, please have mercy on me" pose. The crowd reaction shifts somewhat as Tiger Claw comes running out down the aisle in his street clothes and into the ring. He steps between James and the advancing trio.] TD: I'm not sure what's going to happen here. SR: No, no, no, no! This can't be. You just _can't_ be right, Dross! TD: Well, even I began to think that it must have been someone else. I mean, it was just _too_ obvious! Hold on, Brody Thunder has the microphone. [In the ring, Thunder is an imposing sight flanked by Watkins and Kowalski. He points his index finger directly at Casey James, who has now risen to his feet but still looks shocked.] BT: Game's over, James. You lose. I told ya I'd expose yer little secret when the time was right. That time is now. I ain't exactly sure what yer angle is but I do know this much, ace. I still owe ya... _big_ time. An' this is where I start the payback. [Claw steps between Brody and Casey, eyeing Thunder hard. James appears to still be in a state of shock. He stutters a few times, and seems ready to speak, when Claw turns and points at him.] TC: Shut up! Not a word! [Casey shuts up like an obedient dog. A staredown ensues, ending with James slumping in the corner and burying his face in his hands. The ring mic picks up a few words:] CJ: No... No, it wasn't supposed to happen like this. This wasn't supposed to happen! THIS WASN'T THE PLAN, MAN! [Claw turns to Thunder, Kowalski, and Watkins and begins speaking, but the mics are unable to pick up the words. Thunder appears ready to charge at James as he stares at the demonstrative Claw.] TD: Claw seems to have some control over the situation. But look at Casey. If I didn't know any better, I'd think he is about to burst into tears. SR: No... No... No...! [Thunder pushes aside Claw, who seems agitated but chooses not to attack. Thunder raises the microphone to his mouth and speaks...] BT: _James_... I don't know what kinda stunt yer tryin' ta pull here but I ain't buyin' it, amigo. [Thunder starts at James who flinches nervously. Thunder pauses and turns back to Claw with a puzzled look as the mic picks up his voice.] BT: What the hell's goin' on here Claw?! Ya better tell me or so help me.... [Claw again appears to be forcefully explaining something. Thunder shakes his head. Kowalski rolls his eyes and laughs as Watkins just continues to stare past Claw at James. Thunder raises the mic once again.] BT: I don't know what ails yer head James, but I ain't takin' any chances. I told ya that I wanted ya handcuffed ta ringside fer my match with Requiem an' that ain't changed. I trust ya 'bout as far as I can throw ya, my friend, so here's what yer gonna do... Hey Claw, just back up lil' man, I ain't gonna kick his ass tonight. [Loud pop from the crowd and a "Kick His Ass! Kick His Ass!" chant begins in the cheap seats. Thunder pulls out a pair of handcuffs.] James... look at me, pal. Yer gonna march yer hide down ta that ring next Saturday night an' put on these bracelets. Then yer gonna see me take back that strap from yer pal Requiem. Then, if yer still feelin' froggy, I'll be more'n happy ta knot yer noggin fer free. Got that, hoss? [Casey looks down at the mat, a dejected look on his face... and nods.] TD: Oh, my god! Look at him. That's not the Casey James we're used to. That arrogant facade, the obnoxious outer shell has crumbled, leaving a sick man in the corner. We've seen Casey James sink so low as to kidnap Dan Kauffman's dog and illegally enter his hotel room, but I never thought I would see him completely snap. SR: You want your tragedies, Dross? There's one right there. Casey James went from the bottom to the top of the IIWF. And now he's right back in the gutter again. What the hell is it with this world?! [Thunder throws the pair of handcuffs, which bounce off Casey's chest and rattle to the mat. James hardly seems to notice. Watkins, Kowalski, and Thunder take one good look at the former champ, a mixed look of amusement, hatred, and the tiniest bit of sympathy crossing their faces. All three men leave the ring, leaving Claw standing there, also looking at his tag team partner. Claw _orders_ James to his feet, an order which is followed, and both men walk out of the ring and back up the aisle. Although they are watched closely by Verhoeven and Fitzgerald, not a word is spoken. Cut back to the broadcast table. Steve Roberts sits back in his seat, tapping his pen on the table, shaking his head with disbelief.] TD: Well, folks, I don't quite know what to say. It appears that all of our suspicions have been confirmed -- Casey James is indeed the Masked Outlaw... and he will be handcuffed to the ringpost next Saturday Night when Brody Thunder faces Requiem for the IIWF World Heavyweight Championship! The mystery is finally solved, Steve Roberts! SR: I have nothing to say, Dross. TD: In that case, let's move on to our next match -- which is one of the most eagerly-awaited tag team contests in the history of our great sport. The number one team of today, the Prophets of Rage, take on the number one team of yesterday, Damage Inc... what a match this is going to be. SR: Hey, Dross -- look at that sign. Can we get a shot of that sign? [The shot cuts to the ringside stands, where a figure clutching a massive, truly huge sign stands, waving it and obscuring the view of fans all around him. The sign reads: "SIGNS SUCK! They obstruct the view of all the nice people that paid to watch a good wrestling show and distract the crowd from the actual wrestling and turn their attention towards meaningless signs!"] TD: Well, what a witty fan we have there, Steve Roberts. SR: Hey, Dross -- that's not a fan. That's no fan at all! That's Alex Rio! One of the one-hit wonders of the IIWF is in the crowd here tonight! [The man drops the sign out of view, and mugs for the camera, revealing the fan to be Alex Rio, his short hair bleached blonde and contrasting with his brown goatee beard. Rio waggles his eyebrows, and then drags the sign back into view. Cut back to the broadcast table at ringside.] TD: Indeed it is, Steve Roberts. Alex Rio, who fought no less than two matches in the IIWF last year, walking out of his second match against Otto Verhoeven and then straight out of the IIWF. I would have thought we'd never see him again after he was forced to pay a large settlement to the IIWF for breach of contract -- but here he is, in attendance tonight. SR: That crazy little guy, Dross. Perhaps he'll walk out during this next match. TD: Well, we'll see, Steve Roberts. This should be a very interesting encounter. SR: The Prophets of Rage are now, Dross.  Damage Inc., they're old. They've aged.  This is perhaps the only time you'll hear me take new over old, but the Prophets are just too rough for Damage Inc. TD: The fans here at the Saddledome are in great anticipation of a brawl, and these two teams are likely to give it to them... we've had an action packed hour plus so far tonight, and we lead into the battle royal next with what could degenerate into a battle royal! SR: It's not a brawl without the Fury, Dross... don't even say the word "brawl" unless he's around. TD: Sparky should be ready in the ring, let's go to the introductions in this huge tag team encounter! ________ ______ | || |\ \ /\ / /| __|.................................................. | || | \ v v / | __| Prophets of Rage vs. Damage Inc. |_||_| \_/\_/ |_|.................................................... WRITER: MC [Sparkplug Lee steps up into the ring, wearing his usual outfit of pure ugly, as the mutant fans start a chant of "Spar-ky Sucks", which goes unnoticed by our favorite ring announcer.] SL: Our next contest here on IIWF Saturday Night is a one fall tag team affair. The bout has a forty-five minute time limit, and the referee for the match is Earl Alfonso. [Crowd pops, as Earl Alfonso smiles and nods to the fans.] SL: Introducing the participants... [The crowd starts to buzz as "Reunited" by the Wu-Tang Clan blares over the house speakers.  A woman appears in the aisle as Sparky begins the introductions.] SL: First, making their IIWF Saturday Night debut... accompanied by their valet Jeandra, and hailing from New Orleans, Louisiana... at a total combined weight of six hundred and twenty eight pounds, they are the Number One Tag Team in the World of 1996... I give you "The Ace" Alex Porteaux, and "Mad Dog" Eddy Ramos... they are... DAMAGE INCORPORATED! [The crowd starts to boo loudly, as the manager, Jeandra, leads her men to the ring.  Jeandra is a tall black woman with long black curly hair and brown eyes.  She is wearing a long, black, sequined evening gown with black spiked heels.  She smiles as her men follow behind her.  Alex Porteaux wears long black tights, with the four card symbols running down the left leg, the symbol color alternating between red and blue.  On the back of the pants is the word "Ace" in a gold script.  He is a bald afro-american with brown eyes, and a nice build.  His partner, Eddy Ramos, is a monster.  He wears a black and gold singlet with full length tights, and the word "Damage" running down the right leg.  The hispanic man's monstrous fists are taped tightly, and he has a goatee and short black hair.  They all collectively enter the ring, and raise their arms to the air.  The crowd grows increasingly hostile.] TD: These newcomers look very impressive, Soundbite.  They might be able to shock the former IIWF Tag Team Champions. SR: Doubt it.  Earl Alfonso is gonna have a fun match on his hands. There's gonna be blood, sweat, and tears... TD: Yes, it should be a tough match. SR: If you would ask before interrupting, I would have shut you up long enough to mention that the blood, sweat, and tears would all be on Damage Inc.  Now, go back to not thinking and saying what you see. TD: Fans, I apologize for the inability to remain focused on a match of Steve Roberts. SR: Fans, I apologize for the stupidity of my obese colleague. TD: Let's go back to Sparky, he looks ready to introduce the opposition. [Sparky raises the mic once again as "The Death March" plays over the speakers, and the Canadian Crowd lets loose with a huge pop.] SL: Their opponents are accompanied by Pizzazz and Medusa Rage... they hail from Halifax, Nova Scotia, Canada, and weigh in at a total combined weight of five hundred seventy three pounds, here are the former IIWF Tag Team Champions of the World... SHADOE RAGE... DEREK RAGE... THE PROPHETS... OF RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGE! [Medusa and Pizazz walk out of the entranceway and appear before the crowd as the pop begins to get louder.  They are followed by their men.  Derek Rage is a tall, muscular black man who resembles Alonzo Mourning. He wears a moustache and goatee. His eyes are dark and hard. He has a penetrating stare. Derek strides to the ring wearing a short, black hooded boxer's robe and short black boots. Underneath he wears a basketball uniform in black with purple pinstripe with "Prophet 2" on the front and "Rage 2" on the back. He wears one black glove on his right hand.  Shadoe Rage is a tall, angular, good looking biracial man. His long, dark hair falls in waves around his sharp face. His eyes are staring and intense, full of madness and frustration. He is flamboyant, garbed in glittering sequined cloaks and matching shades. He wears one long evening glove on his right hand in black. He wears a wrestling leotard in black with purple accents, the boots, knee pads and an elbow pad.  Both men step up into the ring with their managers, never taking their eyes off Damage Inc.] TD: Wow, listen to the crowd cheer for the Prophets of Rage!  This is something they can't be used to, Steve. SR: Yeah, I know.  It's so unfair to hear these fans like my pick. TD: We're gonna have a brawl on our hands in a few moments... let's go down to the ring for the bell! SR: No Fury, no brawl. [Alfonso signals for the bell: Ding! Ding! Ding! Eddy and Derek Rage get up in each other's faces for a staredown at the instant the bell rings, as do Shadoe Rage and Alex Porteaux. They stay locked as their managers leave the ring and go to the respective corners.  Earl Alfonso tries to interject, but no man budges.  As if in a show of respect, Eddy Ramos and Derek Rage simultaneously step back, and go to their corners.  Shadoe and Alex remain in a staredown.] TD: There seems to be a plethora of intensity amongst these two teams, Steve.  They don't want to take their eyes off each other. SR: Or they just know each other from [ahem] personal things... TD: [silence] SR: Let's just say there's some intensity. [Alex and Shadoe mutter incoherently to one another, and then lock up.  The stronger Alex quickly pushes Shadoe against the ropes, and when the clean break is called for, Porteaux whips Shadoe across the ring to the far side ropes.  As Shadoe rebounds he ducks under a clothesline attempt, and comes back with a leaping clothesline that takes Porteaux to the mat and draws a loud pop from the crowd. Shadoe continues moving bounding off the ropes and leapfrogging over Alex as he comes to his feet.  Shadoe bounces back and Alex leapfrogs him.  They swap leapfrogs two more times, and Shadoe is moving at a lightning speed when he bounces against the steel cables.  As he rebounds off towards Alex, he is lifted high into the air with a face first back body drop that forces him to come crashing down onto the canvas with a force that bounces him twice more.] SR: Wow. TD: Impressed? SR: No.  I just didn't realize we had a trampoline underneath the mat. [Shadoe is clutching his ribs, losing air on the mat, as Alex picks him up.  He moves to the corner opposite his own, and whips Shadoe across the ring, chest first into the turnbuckles.  As Shadoe comes back out, Alex waistlocks him and delivers a painful back suplex that flips Shadoe over as his neck bounces off the mat.] TD: Shadoe Rage is getting thrown around in there, this could spell trouble for the Prophets. SR: It could also spell an early loss, and a headache. [Alex walks to his corner, and tags in the massive Eddy Ramos.  Alex grabs Shadoe, and hooks his head and arm, delivering a vertical suplex.  Eddy walks into the ring, bounces off the ropes, and delivers a very methodical splash.  He maintains his position as Earl Alfonso drops down to make a count: 1 -- 2 -- kickout!] SR: There's no way in hell you're gonna pin Shadoe Rage with a suplex and a splash. TD: Shadoe has pretty much been thrown around, and the appearance of the big man could ruin him even further for the remainder of this match.  Ramos is a beast. [Ramos picks Shadoe up off the mat and tosses him in a gorilla press, like a dart, over to the corner, where Shadoe reaches his hand up and tags Derek.  Derek steps over the top rope and into the ring, where Ramos tells him to stand.  The vocal challenge is made for Derek to run down Eddy, and they circle each other.  As Eddy turns his back to the Prophets corner, Shadoe leaps onto the top rope and delivers a springboard dropkick to the back of the knee of Ramos as Derek delivers a Yakuza Kick to his chest, knocking the beast to the mat.] SR: Excellent teamwork by the Prophets of Rage, if I do say so myself. TD: It's called _cheating_, Steve. SR: Excellent cheating, at that. [Derek grabs the leg of Eddy, and commences stomping away at the hamstrings and the back of the knees.  He twists at the leg, applying a spinning toe hold, going through several revolutions before Alex attempts to break the hold.  Alex leaps into the ring, but Shadoe comes flying across, nailing him with a dropkick.  Alex doesn't seem to be too fazed by it, and picks up the similar sized Shadoe over his head, depositing him on the guardrail outside.  Alex comes up behind Derek and clotheslines him to the mat.  As the ref checks on Shadoe, Derek is attacked by Alex as Eddy rolls out of the ring without a tag.] SR: Nice teamwork again. [Alex grabs Derek by the head and picks him up, sending him to the ropes and delivering a standing dropkick on the rebound.  Porteaux follows by dropping a series of intense elbows, and covering the larger Prophet.  1--2--kickout!  The crowd pops.  Porteaux argues with the ref, then lifts Derek off the mat and whips him to the ropes.  He attempts a second dropkick, but Derek holds the ropes and Alex falls flat on his back.  Derek comes off the ropes with a running elbowdrop, but Porteaux moves.  Both men stand on their feet and look at each other, before Alex throws a series of punches, and whips the big man over the top and to the floor.] TD: They are right out here in front of our broadcast booth... this has been a tremendous match, but I don't think it is possible to contain these men! SR: YEAH!  FIGHT!  KILL! [Alex drags Derek over to the railing by the broadcast table and slams Rage's head into it.  He follows with a second shot, and then slams his back into the apron.  Rage is dazed, and Eddy Ramos kicks him in the back of the head from the apron.  Alex slams Derek Rage into the ringpost, and he goes down in a heap.  As Jeandra runs to the scene and puts the boots to Derek Rage, Alex is jumped from behind by the tandem of Pizzazz and Medusa.  They combine to deliver a beatdown on Porteaux.  In the ring, Shadoe and Eddy Ramos begin to fight.  The confused referee looks around, and signals for the bell! Ding! Ding! Ding!] TD: It looks like Earl is going to throw this one out, and the crowd is none too happy. SR: Aw, come on Earl, let them fight! TD: They're all out here in front of us... SR: And here comes the cavalry! [Tony Starks and Dirt Dog Unique Allah come running down the aisle, tackling Ramos.  Medusa takes care of Jeandra, and Porteau is left isolated.  Derek tosses Eddy back into the ring, as Starks and DDUA move over to Porteau.  They begin to pummel him, as Derek launches a power headwrecker, finished by Pizzazz.  The crowd pops huge as we get a full Age of Rage beatdown on the "bad guys" to the Canadian crowd.] SR: This is great!  Jeandra was knocked out by Medusa, that big fat Eddy Ramos was destroyed by a Power Headwrecker, and Porteaux is getting whooped by the Dawg and Tony! [The Jobber Justice Squad immediately hits the ring, and everything is settled slowly.  One of the security guards that come with them receives a Power Headwrecker, and the brawl continues.  The JJS is slowly beaten down, as are the police.  The Age of Rage leave the ring, as the beaten but not downed Damage Inc. follow after them.] SL: Ladies and gentlemen, the referee has ruled this bout... a NO     CONTEST! [The crowd jeers the decision. Cut to the broadcast table at ringside.] TD: Well, Steve Roberts, we can be sure that there's going to be plenty more to come between these two teams. What a competitive match. SR: Yeah... but it's a pity that the official decided to slap the finish on one of the biggest tag team matches of the year. Where the hell's Dave D'Amato when you need him, Dross? TD: As it happens, Steve Roberts, official Dave D'Amato is one of the referees appointed for our main event, coming up in just a moment. Another incredible Saturday Night -- what tremendous tag action we have seen, brought to you only like the IIWF can.  Derek Mota has retained his Cruiserweight Title -- and the identity of the Masked Outlaw, the man who has helped to cost Otto Verhoeven and Joe Petrow chances at the World's Championship, has been revealed as Casey "Blackheart" James. SR: Damn, Dross -- the man is obviously disturbed... deranged... I cannot imagine what would possess a great champion like Casey James to suddenly turn his back on everything he believes in to help a paper champion like Boy Requiem.  It makes me sick, Dross.  Sick!  Sick! Sick! TD: Well, occasionaly these types of incidents happen in this great sport -- we are only left to wonder what impact this will have on the tag team ranks -- as the Syndicate currently holds those Championship belts.  And, maybe more importantly, that World Title match between Brody Thunder and Requiem set for next week. SR: I just... I just don't know what to say, Dross.  A fine man has fallen.  I think we should just go home. TD: No, we won't do that, Steve Roberts.  We have that extraordinary Battle Royal in just a few moments... and right now we are set to hear from the man who made a startling return to the IIWF just last week -- the red gloved superstar Creed. SR: Do we have to, Dross?  I mean, it's bad enough we are up in here in Calgary with these inbred morons -- but now "Will you be my Daddy?" is gonna get his two minutes -- and doesn't he get time every Saturday? TD: Actually, we had not seen Creed on IIWF Saturday Night subsequent to his betrayal by Mad Dog Watkins -- a betrayal that cost him the Intercontinental Championship which Chris Quigley now holds -- you have to know that with the Battle Royal coming up -- that the "Quickstrike" will be uppermost on the mind of the young superstar. [A pinstriped suited figure makes his way from the area in which the forty young African-American men known as the "Creed Army" are seated. He is a familiar man, with jet black, slicked back hair and a cellular telephone that he cockily waggles as he steps through the ropes and takes the mic:] JM: Good evening, Calgary! [Gratuitous hometown pop.] JM: My name is "The SuperAgent" Jack Montgomery -- and I am the authorized "behind the scenes" representative for the man who I am about to introduce to all of you. This is a man with the longest unbeaten streak in the history of the IIWF... This is a man who retired the great Lord Byron from the sport of wrestling... This is a man who is the former... and... FUTURE... IIWF Intercontinental Champion of the World..... This... IS... CREEEEEEEDDDD! [Big pop as the lights dim, the only illumination provided by the video wall which in crimson letters flashes the words: ANYONE. ANYWHERE. ANYTIME. As the dry ice begins to billow near the entranceway, "Indifference" by Pearl Jam begins and a single red spotlight strikes the aisle in exactly the spot where the man with the red glove_steps_into the view of the fans... The man known as Creed. There is a huge roar as the red gloved superstar begins his walk to the aisle.  He is black on black and blacker still, with the word "Hardcore" now seemingly burned into his upper right shoulder. Creed hits the now empty ring, the Creed Army chanting his name repeatedly as red fireworks shoot from the tops of all four turnbuckles.] CREED: Damn, fireworks and everything.        Maybe someone really did miss me. But there some guys who didn't.  They some guys sittin' right now in the back damn near pissin' they trunks... starin' up at the monitor... sayin, "There that lucky Creed, takin' the spotlight again... There that lucky Creed -- gettin' everything handed to him... there that lucky Creed -- wonder who he know?" [Murmurs from some of the "smarter" members of the crowd, many of them now inching forward on their seats, intrigued by the interesting rhetorical maneuver executed by Creed.] Kinda thing used ta bother me.  I used to hear those locker room whispers and wonder what I ever did 'round here 'sides work... wonder what Creed ever did 'sides spill his blood and break his back 24 hour a day, 7 day a week, for the IIWF. But now... after a couple a months a sittin' back and watching.  After a couple of months of stayin' on the sidelines... I don't care no more. Ain't none of y'all been able to wipe my boots, damn sure forget 'bout fillin' 'em.  Ain't no Gimmicks... Ain't no Has Beens... Ain't no No Work... No Heat... Never Been Nothin' Even On My Best Damn Day sons a bitches gonna take the IIWF place of the best damn wrestler in the world today.... And that's Creed. So... you talk yo' talk.  And you shuffle your feet. And you back room punks watch guys like Quigley prance around with they little gold belts... [Big pop from the "Quickstrike" fans who pack the rafters, many chanting "Quig-ley" as the red gloved superstar slowly shakes his head.] Yeah, you cheer.  You go 'head and cheer your damn fool heads off for that punk.  You get it all out your system now... make sure you get it all out -- 'cause come Ring Wars IV... ...'cause Come Ring Wars IV... I am gonna take that belt and wrap it upside Chris Quigley's head -- and I am gonna beat the truth into the head of that piece of crap that he ain't no legend... that he ain't no superstar... and that he ain't no Intercontinental Champion of the World... 'Cause I am. [Big pop from the Creed Army -- and the chanting of his name begins anew.] So... here how it gonna be.  I say -- I say -- here how it damn well gonna be. The Battle Royal comin' up -- the Battle Royal comin' up right now -- and since I am the only man in the IIWF who can meet --- and beat... ANYONE!  ANYWHERE!  ANYTIME! That mean that the _only_ way_I am leavin' this ring is for someone to have the jack to throw my ass over that top rope -- that mean that whatever number I drew -- I just became number one! [Huge Pop as Creed peels off his "Anyone.  Anywhere.  Anytime." t-shirt and throws it to the Creed Army.] So you'd better ring the damn bell -- 'cause we gonna do this thing right... NOW! [The crowd begins to buzz with expectance as Dave D'Amato moves into the ring as does Sparkplug Lee -- all three of them joining Creed who tosses to Lee the mic.] ________ ______ | || |\ \ /\ / /| __|.................................................. | || | \ v v / | __| 20-man Over The Top Rope Battle Royal |_||_| \_/\_/ |_|.................................................... WRITER: JJ SL: The following contest is your very special _Main_Event_ of the evening! This contest is a 20 Man Over-The-Top Battle Royal!  Two men will open the contest and then, via a random draw held earlier tonight, an additional man will enter every ninety seconds until each man has entered the ring! The man standing at the conclusion of the contest... will be the winner of the Road To Ring Wars IV Battle Royal -- and will advance on to Ring Wars IV to meet the Intercontinental Champion of the World! [Big Pop as fireworks go off throughout the arena... and the pop increases as Chris Quigley makes his way down the aisle!] TD: Chris Quigley is here -- and getting a deafening reception from these Canadian fans!  SR: These people are only screaming to drown out the voices in their heads that say this is the single worst champion in the history of the IIWF, Dross.  Chris Quigley's reign of error is sure to be as short as anyone's in history -- except maybe that punk in the ring.  I don't know what Creed thinks he is trying to prove out here -- but if he thinks he's gonna win this match -- from the number one spot?! -- he really did get his brain scrambled from that Watkins superbomb! TD: Well, Chris Quigley has taken a ringside seat, Steve Roberts.  This place is electric... there is nothing quite like the thrill of a Battle Royal -- the thrill as the clock counts down until a new man... a new man every 90 seconds takes his place -- and fights for the opportunity at the Intercontinental Championship! [Creed stands alone in the ring as the bell... Ding! Ding! Ding! sounds and every neck in the building begins what will be the first of nineteen dramatic turns to look to the base of the aisle... each fan trying to be the first to see who is walking down to the ring... Then... not entirely unexpectedly... a familiar music begins:] TD: It's "Paint it Black"!  It's "Paint it Black"!  You don't have to pay for Creed/Watkins 3, folks.  You don't have to wait for Ring Wars -- it is gonna happen right now! [Big pop as the former Intercontinental Champion races to the ring -- and he and Creed begin throwing right hands! Watkins and Creed begin a wild brawl, Watkins hurling tremendous rights at his former protegé, rocking Creed back into the corner with knife edge chops... but Creed fires back!  Creed grabbing Watkins around the throat with both hands... lifting him high in the air and tossing him to the corner!  Creed wades in on Watkins as his fans raucously chant his name... Creed firing away with rights, lefts and a series of knees, boots, elbows and forearms... Creed literally spilling into Watkins with violence, driving the Mad Dog down_to_the_canvas!] TD: A huge start for young Creed!  Oh, this man... this man has so much to prove here tonight... and listen to these people! [The crowd roars its support for Creed, who backs to the opposite corner, runs the full length of the ring... and drives a knee sharply into the neck of Mad Dog Watkins -- the former Champion's neck snapping violently into the buckle and his body now laid out on the mat!] TD: We're about to get our third competitor... our third superstar is about to walk into this ring... ["Snakes" begins.] TD: It's Dirt Dog Unique Allah!  Dirt Dog Unique Allah! SR: It's not just the Dog -- it's the whole Age of the Rage -- and they're headin' for the ring! [Big Pop as the former cruiserweight Champion, dressed in black with his head completely shaven, steps into the ring.  He is flanked by Derek and Shadoe, the former Tag Champions... and by Pizzazz, Medusa and Shakeemah... all six Rages approaching Watkins and Creed. Creed drags Watkins to mid-ring, setting him up for a powerbomb... but Watkins slides out the back -- kicking Creed in the midsection as he turns around and whipping him to the ground with a swinging neckbreaker! Watkins the begins to stomp away at Creed -- waving Unique over to help -- but the Dirt Dog, consulting with Derek Rage, stands away yelling out, "No more brothers killin' brothers... can't we all just get along?" The half dozen Rages then make a semi-circle around Watkins and Creed, Unique singing "Amazing Grace" as the Rages form their own lumberjack unit... Watkins lifts Creed to the air... rocking him backward with consecutive European uppercuts... setting him up for a vertical suplex -- blocked -- Watkins again tries to lift for the suplex -- blocked -- and when Watkins tries again... Creed sends a sharp boot to the stomach, whirls Watkins around, grabs a tight full nelson and then drives MDW over the top onto his head with a dragon Creedplex that brings the fans to their feet and draws applause even from the Dirt Dog!] TD: Oh my!  Creed with the dragon Creedplex -- and Watkins is laid out! Mad Dog Watkins is laid out! SR: They're wearing each other out, Dross! I guarantee we aren't looking at winners here -- these guys have totally lost their perspective -- it's not about one-on-one -- it's about getting the shot at Chrissie Quigley on November 8! [Creed dives atop Watkins, choking him blatantly, the official unable to break the hold as he is held off by the Prophets... The crowd pop then increases as "The Good Life" begins.] TD: It's Timothy N. Turner!  Tim Turner -- and he is getting a very positive reaction from this Canadian crowd! SR: All this nationalism in the wrestling business really hasn't affected the IIWF yet, Dross -- but if we have to come back to Canada much more I'm gonna grab an American flag and a two by four and start yellin' "HOOOOOO!" my own damn self! [Turner hits the ring confidently, staring at the circle of Rages which encompass the brawl between Creed and Watkins, which has again turned in the favor of the Mad Dog with a bite over Creed's left eye and a painful armbar. Turner pauses... then taps an index finger to his temple... moving to the circle, wedging himself in between Medusa and Shakeemah and joining Unique in a chorus of "Amazing Grace"!] TD: No one ever accused Tim Turner of being dumb, Steve Roberts -- he doesn't want any part of Creed and Watkins and he is... he is... Oh My! [Turner, perhaps moved by the music, grabs Shakeemah and lays a huge kiss right on her lips!  The crowd pops wildly as the Great White North chapter of the L'il Soundbiters begins singing "Jungle Fever". Shakeemah reacts with disgust, pulling away and rocking Turner with a right hand... then Pizzazz folows with a right hand that sends Turner reeling in the opposite direction... then it is Medusa -- it is Medusa with a right hand... and Turner is sent -- into the arms of the Prophets!] TD: Oh... Oh... Oh... Tim Turner is in the wrong part of town, Steve Roberts. Tim Turner has taken a detour into the Age of the Rage... SR: He ain't the only one, Dross -- look at Watkins! [MDW drags Creed to his feet, taking advantage of the chaos to whip him farside... but Creed catches him with a spinning spinebuster that rocks the ring and leaves his fans again chanting his name! The Prophets, with referee D'Amato now desperately trying to clear the ring of the extraneous personnel, hold Turner steady as Dirt Dog moves to the top rope and flies down upon Turner with a spin kick that nearly takes the Canadian's head off! The full compliment of the Age now attempts to toss Turner over the top rope, Creed resuming his chokehold of Watkins, as the next man makes his way down the aisle...] TD: It's Scott Rogers!  SR: Time to kick some Genesis ass! [The words of the World Champion -- "From this Day Forth... Until the End of Time... There Will Be No Mercy For The Damned!" are heard as Rogers hits the ring. No sonner has his second foot hit the canvas than the balance of the ring -- all six Rages, Turner, even Watkins and Creed -- turn from what they are doing... pause ever-so-momentarily... and attack Scott Rogers!] TD: Oh My!  This crowd is a lovin' this, Steve Roberts.  It is nine on one... and Scott Rogers is getting beaten like a dog! SR: What goes around comes around, Dross -- and believe me... it is comin' around! [The pop is enormous as the pounding on Rogers continues, eighteen boots thrusting deep into the torso of the Genesis strongman.  Shadoe Rage now picks Rogers to his feet, whipping him farside and into a double big boot by Derek and Creed! Unique ascends to the top rope, is grabbed by Watkins -- and hurled with a rocket launcher _hard_ onto Rogers, splashing down on the bodybuilder as the crowd roar turns into a chant... "IIWF! IIWF! IIWF! IIWF!" Tim Turner then swings his index finger through the air, and drops down, putting Scott Rogers in a figure four leglock!] TD: This is absolute brutality, Steve Roberts... I'm not sure anyone deserves this... and here comes Simon Lebec!  Simon Lebec isn't even scheduled to participate in this battle royal! SR: Everybody wants a piece, Dross.  Here comes the next entrant... he can grab him off a hunk too! ["Carmina Burana" plays as Kevin Christiansen makes his way down the aisle.  Simon Lebec only momentarily went into the ring, just to take a couple of gratuitous slaps at Rogers... but then bailed out -- and is now standing at ringside, taunting Rogers while the stomping has resumed, Scott still locked up in Turner's figure four. Christiansen reaches the ring, surveys the situation... and levels Turner with a clothesline! Derek and Shadoe quickly move to Rogers holding him up as Pizzazz moves to the top rope for a Headwrecker... but Christiansen hits Shadoe with a flying shoulderblock that sends himover the top rope!  Pop!  Derek turns to the Cavalier -- grabbing up for a chokeslam... but his knee is taken out by Rogers! Rogers and the Cavalier double whip Derek... and then double backdrop him over the top rope -- all the way to the floor! Creed and Watkins move to an opposite corner, resuming their private war with blistering haymaker right hands... Unique and Turner move to attack the Cavalier -- who fights each of them off, knocking both men down with right hands as Rogers grabs each of the three women in turn... military presses each of them in succession... and tosses each of the three Rage women over the top rope -- all the way to the outside where they are all caught by the Prophets!  Big, big POP!] SR: What the hell is wrong with Christiansen -- is he the new member of Genesis?! TD: I don't think so, Steve Roberts -- I believe Kevin Christiansen simply did not want to see a man ganged up on in that fashion -- even a man as despicable as Scott Rogers!  And these two men have really cleaned house! [Security takes the Rages away from the ring, leaving only the competitors... Turner and Unique have been repeatedly dropped by Cavalier right hands, and as the final Rage woman is tossed over. Rogers now turns to the Cavalier -- each man standing in the corner of the ring -- and Rogers extends his hand! And the Cavalier accepts! And Rogers clotheslines Christiansen over the top rope!] TD: The Cavalier is gone!  The Cavalier is gone! [Rogers yells out to Lebec, "That's how it's done!" flashing a big bicep to the "Showstopper," who laughs, delivers a boot to the still downed Christiansen -- and walks back up the aisle.] TD: New man... it's Luke Steele!  Luke Steele has drawn number seven! [Pop as Steele hits the ring... swinging a steel chair!  Steele draws a bead on Turner, and nails him in the back of the head with the chair -- dropping him like a shot!  Steele then wheels on Unique -- jabbing the chair into his midsection, bouncing off the ropes and _nailing_ him with a rocker dropper that brings the crowd to its feet! Steele scoops up DDUA, whipping him to the ropes and then charges with the chair...] TD: It's Alex Rio!  It's Alex Rio!  Alex Rio leaps to the apron... pulls Unique out of the way -- and takes the chairshot hard from Steele -- square in the mush! SR: What the hell's going on around here, Dross? [Rio falls hard to the floor... Steele shaking his head as Unique is able to crawl away... Turner has now risen, and hits Steele with a dropkick that carries him up and... Steele just does hang on to the ropes!  Steele hangs on to the ropes and wildly swings the chair -- and misses!  Turner follows up with a shot to the midsection that causes Steele to drop the chair -- Turner then dragon screws Steele to the mat and begins working him over with right hands... the crowd roaring its approval... Unique's crawl was interrupted by Scott Rogers, who dropped a huge leg onto him and now has Dirt Dog perched atop a turnbuckle... his midsection exposed as Rogers plants boot after boot into that region. In the corner remain Creed and Watkins, the red gloved superstar hitting a remarkable spinning DDT, and now has MDW seemingly ready to go as the music begins.... It is the theme from "High Planes Drifter."] TD: Brody Thunder!  The Lone Wolf Brody Thunder is number eight -- and that is bad news for Creed! SR: Here's your winner, Dross -- between Thunder, Watkins and Kowalski -- you have three of the most dominant wrestlers in the world -- and they are gonna run this Battle Royal from here on in! [Thunder hits the ring to a big roar, a t-shirt reading "Try Me." upon his frame.  Thunder first approaches Rogers, hitting the big man with a flying forearm that knocks him fromk his feet, allowing Dirt Dog to quickly scamper to the top rope -- and then come down with a powerful 450 degree splash that plants Rogers into the canvas! Thunder then moves to Turner and Steele, dragging them both from the floor and ringing their heads together with the proverbial double noggin knocker! With Watkins precariously close to being pushed over the top, Thunder reaches Creed, driving into his red right kneebrace with a forearm to the hamstring, sending Creed to the mat where he is beset upon by stomps from both the Lone Wolf and the Mad Dog as a figure is now seen coming down the aisle...] TD: Steve Manning, Jr. is here!  Steve Manning is wheeling himself again down the aisle... and again there is a look in that young man's face, Steve Roberts.  A look that I do not entirely believe is indicative of stability. SR: Anyone who would willingly hang out with Quigley is either a nutjob or made of plastic, Dross. [Manning positions himself on the side... Quigley, from his ringside seat -- notices the arrival of Manning and slowly shakes his head.  Another pop as "Scotland the Brave" begins...] TD: Here comes Duncan Macbeth!  He is number nine -- and only one man has been eliminated... nearly half the field has entered -- but nineteen men can still win that IC title shot -- and it may well be the Scotsman! [Macbeth takes his time walking down the aisle, spitting on his hands and then rubbing them together as he deliberately walks through the ropes. Macbeth takes a perfunctory shot at Scott Rogers, who is now ever closer to being eliminated by Unique -- and heads slowly to the aid of his good friend Timothy Turner.  Macbeth jabs a right hand to the back of Steele... then whips him around -- into a northern lights suplex that sends Steele hard to the canvas. Turner has climbed to a midrope, and comes down hard with an elbowdrop to the throat of the now fallen Steele! In the corner, Thunder and Watkins continue to work over Creed -- Thunder laying in with a series of boots and then whipping the red gloved superstar hard into a tilt a whirl backbreaker by Watkins... The music again plays... it is "C.R.E.A.M". TD: Tony Starks!  Here comes the only member of the Age of the Rage we have not seen -- Tony Starks! SR: So many black guys in the ring -- you'd thing we were in a Puff Daddy video. [Starks finds a very receptive Allah, who leaps into his arms, allowing himself to be whipped around in a giant swing and thrown -- hard! -- into Scott Rogers!  The momentum carrying each man over the top rope --- but they remain on the apron, Rogers and Unique brawling -- trying to find a way back into the ring -- and they are able to slide underneath the bottom rope -- each man clealry exhausted. Starks then runs to Creed, the former IC champ about to be thrown over the top -- and Starks flails away at Thunder with right and lefts. Thunder releases his hold on Creed as the crowd roars -- Thunder and Starks going toe-to-toe in the center of the ring as Creed stumbles away from the ropes... Watkins swings a clothesline which Creed slips -- Creed whirls Watkins around -- and grabs a triangle sleeperhold!] TD: Creed with the sleeper!  Creed with the sleeper on Watkins! SR: That's a choke -- look at him -- look at his thumb! [Creed jabs his gloved left thumb into the carotid artery of Watkins, the Mad Dog's legs clearly going wobbly as Creed then lifts... up... and up... and over the top... Big Pop!] TD: Oh My!  Watkins... Watkins is gone!  Mad Dog Watkins is gone!  Creed with the Triangle Creedplex... and Mad Dog Watkins has been eliminated! [Creed back suplexes Watkins out of the sleeperhold all the way out to the floor -- drawing a roar from the crowd which nearly drowns out the music... "Stand and Deliver"...] TD: It's the Highwayman! It's the Highwayman... he is number eleven! SR: Culture Club's sending in reinforcements, Dross -- they might be over-rated gimmicks -- but they can double team like nobody but Marv Albert! [Highwayman dives atop Unique. He hurls him into the corner and smacks him backward with a few huge right hands -- Highwayman whips him to mid-ring, straight into the arms of Rogers... who runs back to the corner -- ramming Unique's back into the buckles! Unique crunches hard, and the Highwayman gets set to charge -- but is dropped by a cross-body block by Starks!] TD: It's Genesis vs. the Age!  Genesis vs. the Age!  Who is the premier stable in the IIWF? SR: It might be Turner and Macbeth, Dross!  Look at the work they're doing on Steele! [Turner drives successive DDT's of Steele onto the steel chair -- Macbeth largely hands back... but accepts a whip of Steele into mid-ring -- and _drives_ him to the canvas with a bulldog headlock that brings a big pop from the crowd!] TD: We have more music... here's number twelve -- It's "Kiss". It is Ike Sampson... OH MY! [Sampson is waylaid from a man leaping from the stands, Ike taking a blunt object to the head as the man runs away totally unseen! Sampson is dropped... and inside the fight continues... the Highwayman has paired off with Dirt Dog, and is close to eliminating him... with Rogers pounding Starks down with a huge piledriver that leaves him laid out -- Rogers flexes a bicep for the fallen Starks... and then makes a mad rush to aid his stablemate, the Highwayman, who is trying to eliminate Unique...] TD: Rogers with a clothesline... he... he eliminated both men!  Scott Rogers has just eliminated both Dirt Dog Unique Allah and the Highwayman! SR: It's comin' apart, Dross.  They might say this was an accident -- but Culture Club is headed to the 99 cent bin at the Record Shack! [Big pop as Rogers buries his head in his hands, realizing that he has inadvertantly eliminated his stablemate.  Highwayman glares upward, shaking his head at Rogers and slapping his hands together -- clearly disappointed at a teammate of his again costing him an opportunity at Intercontinental gold. Turner and Macbeth have continued their blistering assault on Steele -- the Scotsman now lifting him high into a vertical suplex with Turner coming off the opposite top rope with a missle dropkick that rips Steele clean out over the top rope -- and to the outside!] TD: Luke Steele is gone!  Luke Steele is done in by the double team of Tim Turner and Duncan Macbeth -- so important in a match like this that you can have an ally who you trust. SR: That's five down, Dross -- five gone and here comes number 13! [An eagle cry sounds, and the Phoenix sprints into the ring -- the Phoenix chopping away at Turner... Macbeth.... then moving to Thunder... and Creed -- each man reeling from the force of the Phoenix's blows -- the crowd roaring for the Phoenix, almost not noticing as Ike Sampson crawls, finally, into the ring... The Phoenix chopping away at Starks -- and is then grabbed from behind by Scott Rogers -- Rogers Irish whipping the Phoenix into a tilt-a-whirl...] TD: Head scissors!  Head scissors takeover by the Phoenix! And Scott Rogers is gone!  NO!  Scott Rogers is caught by the Highwayman!  Scott Rogers is saved by the Highwayman! SR: What's that incredible sucking sound I hear... Oh, wait -- Nightwing is in the ring.  Hey, Nightwing -- play safe, baby -- it's a crazy world out there! [The crowd is on its feet as the Highwayman stands outside the ring -- the now 286 pound Rogers slung over his shoulder.  The Highwayman pauses -- Rogers yelling at him to throw him back in the ring...] TD: Piledriver!  Piledriver!  Adam Smith has just hit Scott Rogers with a piledriver -- and we have seen Genesis explode right here! [The Highwayman picks Rogers to his feet -- staring him squarely in the eye and saying, "We are even," the two men then walking back up the aisle together.  Ike Sampson's entrance into the ring was stomped by a series of Starks boots... Tony Starks picking Ike to his feet, attempting a suplex -- blocked -- attempting another suplex -- blocked -- and Sampson then lifts Starks high into the air in a vertical suplex... ...and brings him down to the mat with a square driver!  Big Pop for Ike as he then lifts Starks high into the air into a big military press... and tosses the veteran out over the top rope and to the floor!] TD: Starks is gone!  Starks is gone! [Starks smacks the base of the apron as Ike moves to the Thunder/Creed battle -- and it is a war -- each man sporting a forehead gash as a turnbuckle pad has been removed... and Creed and Thunder have taken turns introducing the unforgiving steel to the skull of the other.  Sampson charges Thunder, rocking him back with right hands, Ike whips Thunder farside -- reverse -- and it is Ike who comes off the backropes -- missing a clothesline on Thunder and careening over to Creed... who backdrops Ike over the top rope to the outside!  Big Pop!] TD: Samspon's gone!  Ike Samspon has been eliminated and... and... here comes the Subway Psycho!  Number fourteen is the Subway Psycho! SR: Look at Starks!  Look at Starks and Samspon! [As the crowd pops while "Crazy Train" plays, Tony Starks has attacked Ike Samspon on the outside, applying his kathe jime on Sampson, who flails about -- Creed dives underneath the bottom rope -- attempting to induce Starks to break the hold -- but is unable... and then Thunder... Brody Thunder rolls under the ring... grabs Creed... and sends him hard into the steel steps! Security enters, dragging the maniacal Starks from Sampson. The vicious nature in Tony Starks never more clear as he fights his way through security to get an additional choke on Sampson... Also maniacal is the wheelchair bound Manning, Manning finds himself poised above Creed, who is sprawled out on the floor after taking the shot to the steps... Manning finds Creed's gloved left hand... and parks his chair on it!  Manning wheels himself upon the left glove of Creed as Brody Thunder grabs a steel chair and waffles Creed over the back! Manning wheels away, heading back up the aisle, a sickly smile plastered over his face while, at ringside, Chris Quigley slowly shakes his head.  In the ring, the Subway Psycho is clearing house, leveling Macbeth, Turner and the Phoenix with clotheslines... Macbeth is the first to rise... and takes a flying shoulderblock that _almost_ takes him over -- but he is just able to grab ahold of the ropes... the Psycho then grabs the steel chair -- tossing it to Turner who unfortunately catches it, holding the chair in front of his face as the Psycho dropkicks him!  The steel chair smashes into the face of Turner, the momentum carrying him into Macbeth and the two men begin to topple over the top... The Phoenix then rises... he and the Psycho moving to the ropes... both trying to push Macbeth and Turner over the top rope... Creed and Thunder remain on the outside... Thunder advances with the ringbell -- but Creed hits him with a _very_ low blow... and then belly-to-belly Creedplexes him on the very steel steps where Creed had previously been slammed.] TD: We have four men in the ring... both Thunder and Creed are also still in this fight -- and now number fifteen is headed in... ["Little Willy" then begins to an enormous pop from the crowd...] TD: It's Billy Shakespeare!  Here comes Billy Shakespeare! [Shakespeare sprints down the aisle, hopping up to the apron -- but does not enter. Instead he circles the perimeter, finding Creed, who is now pounding Thunder through the steel steps. Shakespeare pauses, leaps from the apron...] TD: Final Act!  Final Act!  Billy Shakespeare hits Creed with a somersault DDT on the steel steps... and Creed is out cold! SR: Couldn't have happened to a nicer guy... [Shakespeare leaps over the top rope... heading into the ring as Thunder tosses Creed back inside... then begins to try to lift him over the top rope... Shakespeare leaps to the pile, attempting to toss Turner and Macbeth over the top rope -- the Psycho then turns -- and blasts Shakespeare with a right hand!  Shakespeare goes tumbling away, pursued by the Psycho who stops him... whips him nearside... and buries him with a devastating powerslam in the middle of the ring.. The loss of those men leaves only the Phoenix to keep Turner and Macbeth on the ropes... and as "Climatize" begins... and the sixteenth man -- the newcomer Dakota Bundy -- walks to the ring, Macbeth and Turner escape their entanglements in the ropes -- and are nearly caught flat footed as the Phoenix runs to the opposite side of the ring, executing a perfect springboard moonsault right onto Macbeth... But the Scotsman's able to catch him!  Macbeth holds him up as Turner moves in from the back... and as Macbeth begins a backdrop, Turner nails the Phoenix with a flying jawbreaker that sends him flying over the top rope -- all the way to the outside!] TD: The Phoenix is gone!  The Phoenix is gone and he is immediately replaced in the ring by Dakota Bundy!  Dakota Bundy is taking on both Turner and Macbeth!  Bundy goes in blasting away at Turner and Macbeth!  [Bundy wails away at each man, laying into them with right hands, then whipping Macbeth as he rises... and _nailing_ him with a lightning fast forearm that completely lays TNT out!] TD: That's the Firearm!  Dakota Bundy has knocked Duncan Macbeth clean unconscious with that Firearm!  Oh my! [Bundy and Turner now begin brawling... Shakespeare hits the Psycho with a hurricanrana roll up and is now blistering away at the "People's Champion" with an array of lefts and rights... Creed has managed to battle back against Brody Thunder with consecutive Cross-Face Creedplexes done in such rapid fire motion that the crowd rises, the Creed Army chanting the young superstar's name -- over and over and over again... As the next music is heard.... It is "Don't Fear The Reaper."] TD: Oh MY!  SR: Here's the man, Dross!  Here is the man... it is Steve "The Fury" Kowalski -- and he is here to win this thing! [Enormous pop as the Fury enters, charging directly over to Creed and leveling him with hyamaker right hands!  The Fury and Thunder now compose themselves, stomping away at Creed, then picking him to his feet and whipping him into a double clothesline... Kowalski lifts Creed into a military press -- dropping him over his knee with a stomachbreaker followed immediately by a Thunder elbowdrop from the midrope... Macbeth has now risen, joining Turner once again in his battle with Bundy. Macbeth is clearly groggy as he swings wildly... almost connecting with Turner's jaw -- TNT ducks, tapping his index finger to his temple... and taking a vicious flying clothesline from Bundy for his troubles... The Psycho and Shakespeare are now both on their feet, each man battling near the ropes, trying to toss the other over the top... as the next music begins... It is "Cold Gin"...] TD: Here comes number eighteen!  Number eighteen is the "Party Maniac"... it is Marty Warnett! SR: We are getting down to it, Dross.  There's a lot of guys in there who have worn gold in the past -- and every one of them wants a shot at Chris Quigley. [Warnett dives underneath the bottom rope... first joining Bundy by rattling Turner and Macbeth with big right hands... Warnett then moves farside, grabbing a steel chair and rushing Creed... who is being held, arms spread wide, on the ropes. Warnett rams the chair into the right knee of the former Intercontinental Champion -- causing an almost involuntary yelp of pain from Creed whose leg begins to give -- Warnett then jabs the chair in the midsection of the Fury... then grabs a facelock and snap suplexes Kowalski over. Thunder moves for Warnett -- and Marty sends him over with an armdrag... Creed then scrambles over -- grabbing Warnett around the throat...] TD: Crimson Tide Chokeslam!  Crimson Tide Chokeslam!  Marty Warnett has been chokeslammed over that steel chair -- and we have absolute carnage in this ring! [Macbeth staggers around the ring, taking and receiving shots by the Psycho and Shakespeare... by Kowalski and Thunder... and then nearly by Turner -- Turner stopping just short of laying into his friend as Bundy approaches again... but this time Turner slips the Bundy charge... Bundy's momentum carrying him across the ring to Shakespeare and the Psycho -- who grab him together... and double suplex Bundy over the top rope -- and all the way to the outside!] TD: Dakota Bundy is gone... Dakota Bundy is gone... and here comes number nineteen! ["Some Days It's Dark" begins... and the monstrous Serge Annis begins his walk down the aisle.  Serge is sporting a new "fade"... and looks remarkably chiseled as he slowly steps over the top rope and into the ring. Warnett is the first to charge... and is leveled by an Annis clothesline. The Subway Psycho and Shakespeare move away from each other, each charging toward Annis, who slips the rush... and then knocks each of them to the mat with clotheslines. The Canadian crowd pops, seemingly enjoying the power by Annis who is then met with a whip by Kowalski. Annis ducks under... and the Fury is caught!  Kowalski is caught up... caught up by an Annis chokeslam!  Big... Big Pop!] TD: Oh my!  Serge Annis is just devastating!  He has just chokeslammed Steve Kowalski... he has just chokeslammed Steve Kowalski... Oh, My! Brody Thunder with the chair!  Brody Thunder with the chair! [Thunder, the blood still flowing from his head, waffles Annis over the back with the steel chair. Annis drops like a shot to the mat, Thunder then dropping the chair to the mat. Warnett has gotten back to his feet and battles Creed on the ropes... whipping the red-gloved superstar to Thunder in the middle of the ring...] TD: Cattle Buster DDT!  Cattle Buster DDT!  Brody Thunder has just leveled Creed with a Cattle Buster DDT on that steel chair and you can write his chances off! [Macbeth and Turner grab Annis, pulling him to his feet... Warnett begins to slug with Thunder and Kowalski, Warnett at a decided disadvantage, double-teamed by the two men.... The Subway Psycho moves to take advantage of the falling of his old rival Creed... laying in with a series of boots... And, as "Simply the Best" begins, signifying the entrance of wrestler number twenty -- Billy Shakespeare dives underneath the bottom rope -- and charges into the aisle -- meeting Ronnie Paris -- also running full speed in the midle of the aisle and the two men begin a wild brawl that spills over into the crowd!] TD: Ten men, Steve Roberts.  Ten men all battling away with one goal... to get that coveted spot at Ring Wars IV -- in front of 100,000 people at the LA Memorial Coliseum against the legendary "Quickstrike" Chris Quigley! SR: Look at the teams, Dross -- Kowalski and Thunder... Macbeth and Turner -- you want to pick a winner here -- look at the teams... [Paris and Shakespeare begin fighting their way back toward the ring, each man throwing rapid closed fist blows as they close in on re-entering the battle... Kowalski and Thunder continue on Warnett... Kowalski pummeling Marty down with clubbing forearms as Thunder lays in with boots... Annis is in the corner... Duncan Macbeth's boot on his neck as Tim Turner attempts to throw him over the top rope... The Subway Psycho pulls Creed to his feet... rocking him back with European uppercuts... Creed returning the favor now, Creed shaking his head violently, his left glove twitching madly as Creed fires back! Creed firing back with blow-after-blow-after-blow, Creed whipping the Subway Psycho hard into the corner occupied by Annis/Macbeth/Turner -- the latter two just diving out of the way as the Psycho rams hard into Annis... who maintains hold of him!  Annis maintains hold of the Subway Psycho in a belly-to-belly suplex attempt -- driving him over the top rope and all the way out to the floor!] TD: The Psycho is gone!  The Subway Psycho is gone! SR: Nine to go, Dross!  Watch the team-ups... Nine to go! [Creed and Turner each charge Annis, the effort of the suplex leaving him vulnerable... they hit hard, Annis heading to the ropes on which he precariously holds, Annis struggling to stay in as Creed and Turner push. Macbeth -- still not 100% following the Bundy Firearm -- rushes the men himself, thrusting his full 275 pounds at the pile and sending...] TD: Tim Turner is gone!  Tim Turner is gone! SR: A little payback for the Scotsman, Dross!  I love a battle royal! [Paris and Shakespeare now stand in the ring... drawing the crowd's interest as the two men slug it out, two cruiserweights laying into each other with everything they have in the middle of the ring... Creed now moves back to Thunder and Kowalski, fighting alongside Warnett, Creed and Warnett standing side by side against Thunder and Kowalski -- Warnett, having taken the Crimson Tide chokeslam, is clearly wobbly, while Creed has been beaten from pillar to post... his number one entry as visible to the fans as if it were written on his chest with the blood that flows freely from his forehead... Macbeth and Annis are on the ropes... Annis seemingly about to eliminate Macbeth -- Macbeth seemingly about to eliminate Annis -- Warnett staggers away from the pack... climbing to the top rope and leaping upon Creed and Thunder...] TD: Caught!  Creed and Thunder catch Warnett!  They've got a double fallaway slam over the top rope!  Marty's gone!  Marty's gone! [Warnett crashes to the floor outside the ring, knocking his head on the steel crowd barriers. Referee Dave D'Amato checks on Warnett's condition, but is surprised by a stretcher team arriving on the scene without him having to call for one.] TD: Hold on, Steve Roberts -- here comes a stretcher team! SR: Get Warnett out of here! He's history! TD: The stretcher team now, pulling the cover from the stretcher -- and there's something on that stretcher, Steve Roberts. There are some metal plates on that stretcher! SR: They're license plates, Dross! Look, they're license plates -- they say "STUD 1", "STUD 2" and "STUD 3"! TD: Stud?! As in former IIWF competitor "Superstar" Stud Stetson?! What is this, Stud Stetson's latest car? SR: Well, Dross, Stetson always did have a habit of wrecking cars left, right and centre. Maybe this is what he's reduced to since he left the IIWF. [Warnett is lifted onto the stretcher, knocked silly by the fall from the ring and offering little resistance. However, as his sweaty back touches the cold metal license plates on the stretcher, he seems to be instantly revived, leaping up and trying to clear his head, clutching the back of his sore skull with one hand. He looks down at the license plates on the stretcher -- and then nails one of the stretcher team! Big pop as Warnett takes out all four of the emergency medical team, before storming back to the locker room!] TD: Marty Warnett not reacting at all well to this cryptic turn of events, Steve Roberts. We've already seen Alex Rio here tonight -- are we to take this to mean that the "Superstar" himself, Stud Stetson, is making a return to the IIWF? SR: Who cares, Dross?! Seven to go -- watch the team-ups... you have to watch the double teams... [Paris executes a waistlock on Shakespeare -- standing switch -- and then Paris re-reverses... hooking the arms and driving Shakespeare over with a tiger suplex -- but Billy stays on his feet!  Billy stays on his feet and then moves to the top rope!  Shakespeare goes to the top rope, Paris moves after him, Paris climbing up to the top rope -- he and Shakespeare slugging it out as each man looks to gain control, each of these two men, these two rivals looks to gain control...] TD: Oh MY!  Shakespeare with the superplex to the outside! Shakespeare with a superplex to the outside!  And both men are eliminated!  Billy Shakespeare has just intentionally eliminated himself as well as Ronnie Paris! SR: Blitzsphere through himself on his sword, Dross... we are down to five guys... we are down to five guys... and they're still going at it! [Shakespeare and Paris, with the chants of "IIWF! IIWF! IIWF!" ringing in their ears, continue their war -- Paris grabbing a standing light fixture and smashing it down over Shakespeare's head!  The aisle fills with glass as Shakespeare is busted open, Shakespeare grabbing a chair and swinging widly as the two men fight up the aisle. Referee D'Amato moves to push them up the aisle while simultaneously, Steve Kowalski has laid into Creed with the chair in the ring -- and now punches him in the stomach... And underhooks the arms.... And with the crowd chanting "Skull-pump! Skull-pump! Skull-pump!" Kowalski looks to send Creed down...] SR: Goonight!  Farewell!  A.... NOOO! [Kowalski sets himself... and is then backdropped over the top rope... and out to the floor!  Big Pop! D'Amato, still occupied with removing Shakespeare and Paris turns... but too late -- Thunder reaches underneath the bottom rope, pulling a scrambling Kowalski back in!] TD: He's... Steve Kowalski sneaked back into the ring!  Steve Kowalski sneaked back into the ring! SR: He's still alive, Dross -- five men left and the Fury is still alive! [Creed is beset upon by Kowalski, Thunder and Macbeth -- all three men pounding away at the red gloved superstar, Kowalski with the Irish whip -- sending Creed in hard to Macbeth, who hits him with an atomic drop that sends Creed flying into the exposed turnbuckle pad! Creed takes the exposed steel and flies back to the middle of the ring -- into the arms of Serge Annis, where Creed is lifted -- lifted up into the air...] TD: Good God!  Chokeslam!  Chokeslam!  Chokeslam!  Annis lays Creed out in the middle of the ring... and all four men are picking him up... and sending him... sending him... Creed is gone!  Creed is gone!  Creed has been eliminated by Serge Annis and that chokeslam! SR: How do you like the guys in the backroom now, punk? [Creed slowly drags himself from ringside -- the bitterness clearly evident on his face as he points up at each man in the ring -- and then over to the still seated Chris Quigley, yelling out, "One way or the other... One way or the other." The crowd chants now pick up, Kowalski and Thunder whispering to each other -- Annis calling over to Macbeth -- a momentary alliance, born out of necessity more than friendship, is made between the two superstars. Kowalski and Thunder then rush -- each catching his opposite with a knee lift... then a whip to the farside -- then a big boot!  Kowalski and Thunder lift Macbeth into the air... Irish whipping him into a double clothesline... sending Macbeth over a full 360 degrees... Annis comes charging -- Thunder and Kowalski slip the bull rush... jabbing Annis as he turns around with double backfists... then hooking him up -- lifting him up -- and _dropping_ Annis with a double brainbuster that brings the crowd, once again, to its feet!] TD: Kowalski and Thunder are cleaning house, Steve Roberts! These two men are about to be... look at this!  Look who's coming to the party! SR: It's James!  It's James -- oh man, is this sad. [The chants of "You Sold Out" are deafening as James makes a slow walk to the ring. James is in streetclothes now -- save for the Outlaw mask which almost pathetically adorns his face.  James... is repeating the words, "I'm sorry... I'm sorry..." over and over as he nears the ring -- James saying "I'm sorry for everything, Brody." James/Outlaw reaches the base of the apron, looking to climb up on the apron -- Thunder and Kowalski sprint over to the ropes -- each man pointing, yelling for James to stay out of the ring... Thunder and Kowalski on the ropes as... as...] TD: THEY'RE GONE!  THUNDER AND KOWALSKI ARE GONE! Eliminated by Annis and Macbeth! SR: James did it again -- Casey James did it again -- unbelievable! [Annis and Macbeth each approach Thunder and Kowalski from behind -- dumping them over the top rope -- Thunder and Kowalski fall to the feet of James... the "Blackheart" continues to apologize... picking Kowalski to his feet... Casey James still apologizing as he grabs a facelock... and nails Steve Kowalski with a Cattle Buster DDT!  Cattle Buster DDT!] TD: Oh My!  James lays the Fury out -- and now Brody Thunder is chasing him up the aisle! Brody Thunder chases Casey James up the aisle!  And we are down -- can youy believe this?  We are down to Serge Annis and Duncan Macbeth! [Annis and Macbeth turn to each other, and begin to wildly brawl, each man throwing rights and lefts... Annis with a series of knee lifts and a whip to the corner... Macbeth goes hard into the buckle... bouncing back to mid-ring... and is sent hard to the opposite corner -- Macbeth hitting the buckle -- flipping up -- and flipping over... But landing on the apron!  Macbeth lands on the apron -- moves to the top rope -- and comes down on Serge with a huge flying crossbody! Macbeth hops to his feet, grabbing the chair -- and then whipping Annis farside -- Serge ducks the chairshot -- turns around -- and kicks Macbeth in the stomach -- Macbeth doubles over and drops the chair -- Annis leaning down and grabbing a gutwrench...] TD: Gutwrench powerbomb by Annis!  Gutwrench powerbomb by Annis!  And he's hoisting Macbeth to his feet!  He's bringing Macbeth up... Macbeth is going _up_ intothe air... [Annis whips Macbeth, catching him around the throat and bringing him to the air -- Serge backsweeping the legs and bringing Macbeth higher still... NO! It is Macbeth who goes higher still... using the momentum of Serge's sweep to swing his legs up -- up to the head of Serge -- Macbeth pulling his torso up, up to Serge's neck... _snapping_ off the hurricanrana that sends each man tumbling... tumbling over the top rope! Each man falling... Falling... Falling...] TD: NO!  Macbeth grabs the ropes!  Macbeth hangs on!  It is over!  It is all over!! [Huge pop from the crowd as Serge hits the floor, Duncan Macbeth remaining dangled between the ropes... Ding! Ding! Ding!] SL  Your winner... and advancing to Ring Wars IV... DUNCAN MACBETH! [Big pop for Macbeth, the Scotsman staggering around the ring now, Macbeth thrusting an arm into the air in victory as Annis smacks the apron on the outside -- "Scotland the Brave" begins as "Quickstrike" Chris Quigley slowly leaves his ringside seat, putting on his sunglasses and looking up into the ring... Macbeth then points, points directly at Chris Quigley and makes the motion around his waist, Duncan Macbeth making the motion that it is he -- he who wants the Intercontinental belt!] TD: We are out of time, folks -- we are out of time -- join Steve Roberts and myself on Tuesday for a recap and preview of all the action -- the Road to Ring Wars IV is headed back home to Portland -- back home to Portland and it is being paved by the Scotsman... Duncan Macbeth has won -- Duncan Macbeth has won the Battle Royal! For Steve "Soundbite" Roberts and everyone at "IIWF Saturday Night" this is Tim Dross, saying: so long, everybody! [Macbeth stands jubilantly in the ring -- the fans in the building still standing, cheering as Quigley nods his head slowly -- Quigley and Macbeth staring hard at each other as the shot fades.] +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= I * I * W * F =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-+ | President: Daniel Spreadbury | Vice-President: Jim Jividen | | univ0322@sable.ox.ac.uk | brokeback@webtv.net | | iiwf@sisko.demon.co.uk | | +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- http://www.sisko.demon.co.uk -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=+