________ ______ __ ____ ___ __ . _ ___ | || |\ \ /\ / /| __| / /\ | | || \| \ /\ \ / |\ || / \| | | | || | \ v v / | __| \__ /__\ | | ||__/| |/__\ v | \||| __|-| | |_||_| \_/\_/ |_| \ \| v | \|__/ \| | || \_|| | | __________________________/...hour two...\........|...|.......|....| LIVE! Falcon Stadium, US Air Force Academy, Colorado Springs 25 October 1997 [Mix through to a montage of interior shots of the Falcon Stadium, the sky above now a deep evening purple, the sun having set long ago. The camera pans down past the screaming fans as a huge volley of fireworks shoots up into the sky, exploding with ear-shattering bangs. As the smoke clears, the shot cuts to the ring, in which stands the bomber-jacketed Tim Dross, clutching a microphone in one hand:] TD: Ladies and gentlemen, my guests at this time are one of the most unlikely tag team pairings we have seen here in the IIWF since Team Sychosys. On only their second outing as a team, they won the IIWF World Heavyweight Championships -- accompanied by Harlequins Comedy and Melody, and their original partners, Harlequin Chaos and Edmund Fitzgerald, they are Harlequin Tragedy and Icehawk of Cold Spell... the so-called Cold Quins! [Mixed pop as Garbage's "#1 Crush" kicks in over the PA system and the huge entourage appears in the aisle, Icehawk and Tragedy leading the way, Tragedy having slung his World Tag belt over one shoulder, and Icehawk, in typical hyperactive fashion darting from one side of the aisle to the other greeting the fans, sports the gold around his waist. Behind them are the remaining three Harlequins, Chaos -- who limps on crutches -- Comedy and Melody, who, as always, seem to be having a good time with their Happy Hammer. Behind them all walks the stoic Edmund Fitzgerald, his arm in a sling and otherwise dressed in street clothes which, nonetheless, do little to hide his impressive physique. The entire entourage make their way to the ring, and duck in under the ropes, surrounding Dross, who good-humouredly takes more than a couple of shots from the Happy Hammer. As the crowd settle, Dross raises his microphone once more.] TD: Well, it's kind of crowded in here -- but before I talk to the tag champs, I want to talk to the missing man, Edmund Fitzgerald. Fitz, you've been MIA since Cold Spell left Genesis. I'm guessing that the sling on your arm explains that, but what's up? EF: Well, Tim, you have figured it out with that razor-like mind of yours. I had been wrestling with a bad shoulder since before the last PPV, but with Cold Spell holding both the IIWF and NLWP tag belts, I never had a chance to rest it. You know how we lost the IIWF belts, and we lost the NLWP straps because I wasn't 100%. So I had some surgery, and the next thing I know, 'Hawk is a champ again. TD: Are you upset about that? EF: [glaring at Dross] No. Not a bit. Stop trying to start trouble. When Chaos first got hurt, Melody approached me about having Hawk replace him. He was very opposed to the idea. But when Comedy dragged him out there, he couldn't say no. He never can turn down a beautiful woman. [Comedy grins at this, while Icehawk blushes.] TD: So what are your plans? EF: Well, the doctors tell me that I can come back in a week or so. When that happens, there's a few things I could do in the singles arena. Or I'll just keep an eye on Icehawk and Tragedy's back. I'm in no hurry. TD: Okay, then let me turn to your partner... or Tragedy's partner. Which are you these days? IH: I'm one-half of the greatest tag team in the world -- Cold Spell. But with Fitz hurt, I'm now also one-half of the second best -- the Cold Quins. Trag and I won't hold the belts forever, and when that time comes, Fitz and I will start working on our second title reign. TD: Let's go back a couple of weeks... you're minding your own business in the back, and suddenly you are being begged to help your two worst enemies in wrestling. I mean, you joined Genesis, a move you regretted almost at once, just to get back at Tragedy and Comedy. Why in the world did you agree to help them? IH: [takes a deep breath] Because deep down, I know I deserved that fireball. [Everyone in the ring does a doubletake -- especially Comedy.] TD: You think you deserved to have your face burned? Why? IH: Because I was acting a like a 14-year-old in love. Yeah, I _did_ have a crush on Comedy. But I shouldn't have been talking about that, because I knew she and Trag were an item. I talked too much, you heard the rumors, and broadcast them on the air. I can't blame Trag and Comedy for being pissed. And I know she's sorry for burning me. She has a hot temper. TD: That is apparent. Now let's talk to the other half of this team. Tragedy, what did you think when you saw your wife bring a man to the ring that you, how do I put this, didn't exactly like? HT: I think it was quite apparent that night against the Machines that I was willing to fight alone rather than replace my brother. And I will admit that I was a little upset at first when I saw him come to the ring. Believe me -- [points to himself and Icehawk] none of this was my idea. And to tell the truth, I would have rather waited for my brother's return to the ring than team up with Icehawk a     second time. You may recall, Dross, the last time I had to team with someone other than my brother was when Marty Warnett and I teamed up to face Lord Byron and Stud Stetson. Warnett dropped the ball that time. Believe me, I won't tolerate that happening again. [Tragedy looks over at Icehawk, who gives him a puzzled stare back.] HT: But I co-hold the Titles now. I don't blame the Syndicate for running away. They never stood a chance no matter who I teamed with. TD: Now gentlemen, tonight, you successfully defended the belts against LFD. We all remember the cheap shot they took at you, Tragedy, and how they threatened your wife with a taser. Do you feel that putting them down tonight has settled the score? HT: I don't forgive, and I never forget. The only license for devastation our opponents tonight had was for their own. Vengeance was mine, and LFD suffered the Tragic Ending they deserved. [Pop from the Harlequinners in the crowd.] TD: Now before we go, Chaos, is there anything you would like to say? HCh: The leg is healing. But injury or not, LFD better watch themselves, because I won't hesitate to even the score. [Holds up a crutch.] Any way I have to. [Comedy laughs.] TD: Well, thank you for your time, gentlemen -- and the best of luck at Ring Wars IV, when you defend your titles against whichever team you will face. Ladies and gentlemen... the Harlequins, and Cold Spell! [Mixed pop as "The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald" kicks in over the PA system, Dross ducking out of the ring to return to the broadcast table as Tragedy raises his title belt to the sky, and Icehawk mounts a turnbuckle, showing off the gold to the fans. Eventually, the entourage leaves the ring, Icehawk talking with Fitz to the back, and the Harlequins their usual ebullient selves. Cut back to the broadcast table at ringside.] TD: Well, there you have it, folks -- Cold Spell and the Harlequins working together, and with great success, I might add. We may find out later tonight just who Tragedy and Icehawk will be facing at Ring Wars IV! Welcome back to IIWF Saturday Night, folks... what an incredible first hour we have had, and things are only set to heat up in this second half of the show. SR: What about that huge brawl we just saw, Dross? I can't get over it -- deWinter right between Lebec's legs. Brings tears to my eyes, buddy. TD: Simon Lebec's actions were utterly disgusting, Steve Roberts -- but I believe we have comments from that dispicable man.  Simon Lebec, I am sickened by your actions! [Cut to a split-screen: on the left, Dross and Roberts at the broadcast position; on the right, "The Showstopper" Simon Lebec, still laughing heinously.] SL: HEEEE!!  HEEEE!!  HER HEAD.... BETWEEN MY LEGS!! HAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!  HEE HEE!!  SING IT KOKO!!  HEE!! [Into the camera's view, two police officers enter on either side of Lebec.  One officer begins to handcuff Lebec, while the other faces Lebec to speak.  Lebec offers no resistance.  He merely continues giggling to himself.] OFFICER: Simon Lebec, you have violated your bail agreement with the brutal assualt on Ms. DeWinter tonight.  You are under arrest. [Lebec breaks out into fits of laughter.] SL:  HEE!!  RIGHT BETWEEN MY LEGS!! [The police officers take Lebec, who remains giggling, away, out of the camera's view. Cut back to a normal shot at ringside.] TD: It looks like Simon Lebec is headed for the slammer -- and it's no more than he deserves, Steve Roberts. SR: I can just hear Byron now, Dross -- "Please reinstate me, Mr. President, so I can at least claim insurance when that big Otto Verhoeven beats the snot out of me!" TD: Please, Steve Roberts, this is no joking matter. I understand that Lady deWinter is suffering chiefly from shock, and she'll be fine -- but I think the effect on Lord Byron may be more long-lasting. However, with Simon Lebec's arrest just moments ago, that sheds a new light on our following contest, in which Lebec was scheduled to meet the Dirt Dog Unique Allah. This was to be the second of our two Cruiserweight Contender semi-final matchups, the winner here to meet that tough Texan, Ronnie Paris, next week as IIWF Saturday Night eminates from Disneyland in Anaheim, California. SR: I ain't going. TD: Oh yes you are, Steve Roberts, as a matter of fact, you and I will be at Disneyland on Tuesday as we do our 30th broadcast of "Inside the IIWF" with our current "behind the scenes" production team. SR: I ain't going.  TD: Sure you are, Steve Roberts, Disneyland has been one of America's best loved theme parks since its doors first opened in 1955.  You'll have a great time! SR: You don't understand... I'm not allowed back at Disneyland since the "incident".  I'm barred from the park, Dross. TD: Barred? SR: Oh, yes.  I'm barred.  Barred, baby dolls.  Barred like Ike "Why don't the other black guys like me" Sampson at Leavenworth. I _be_ barred. TD: Really? SR: Nah.  I just ain't going. TD: Let's get to the ring. ________ ______ | || |\ \ /\ / /| __|.................................................. | || | \ v v / | __| CRUISERWEIGHT CONTENDERS TOURNAMENT SEMI-FINAL: |_||_| \_/\_/ |_| "Showstopper" Simon Lebec vs. Dirt Dog Unique Allah ....................................................................... WRITER: JJ [Sparkplug Lee gives a big thumbs up to a quite attractive young woman seated at ringside holding up a small sign reading, "I Rather Enjoy The Booking."] SL: The following contest is your second semi-final matchup in the Cruiserweight Contenders Tournament! Introducing first.... [Lee stops as he is motioned to the ropes by a standing IIWF suit who brings to ringside a piece of paper which he hands up to Sparkplug.] SL: Ladies and Gentlemen... the "Showstopper" Simon Lebec will be unable to participate in this matchup.  That means that... as a result of a forfeit... the winner of this matchup... and advancing on to the Finals of the Cruiserweight Contender's Tournament... Dirt Dog Unique Allah!! [Mixed pop as the crowd realizes it will not see a match.] TD: Well, we saw the trouble that Simon Lebec got himself into in Hour One... it appears that not only is he out of this tournament... but Simon Lebec may be out of the IIWF altogether! SL: Aw, he'll be back, Dross.  Like the swallows coming back to Capistrano, ain't no one ever stayed away from the Double Eye for very long, baby dolls. ["Snakes" by Ol' Dirty Bastard plays through the arena as Dirt Dog stumbles out from the back, spinning and weaving, dressed in his street clothes.  He slaps some hands with the fans and then stumbles up the steps into the ring. DDUA signals for the mic.] DDUA: All right, y'all, muhfuhs.  I want all you ladies to put your mouths together... Nah, I can't ask for that here tonight can I?  Naw, I can't. I gotta do something right, don't I?  all right, listen to me.  I got nuthin' against Simon Lebec, but he's the showstopper, right?  So I ain't gonna show against him.  It ain't his fault.  I think he's a real cool guy. And I'm sure he's really neat, but there ain't two of him and if it ain't about tag-teaming then it's all about me and Derek makin' something real cool together.  So, y'all enjoy the show, but I gotta say goodnight right now.  Look for me and the new line of IIWF Prophets of Rage material.  All right?  Cool! [DDUA staggers out of the ring, shambling his way up out of the ring.] TD: Well... well... I can't say that's totally out of left field.  Dirt Dog Unique Allah has apparently decided to pursue his tag team commitments with Derek Rage -- and we will see the Prophets of Rage next as a matter of fact -- but with Simon Lebec's... SR: Meltdown. TD: ...meltdown... that sort of leaves us... SR: Screwed.  Screwed like Suzie after the junior prom.  Her little pink dress pulled up over her head... the limo driver getting slipped a couple of bucks to "just keep drivin'"... aw, Dross... I's gettin' all misty. [Sparkplug gives the international symbol for "what does Sparkplug do now?" and as Dirt Dog disappears from view... he retakes the mic.] SL: Er... Dirt Dog Unique Allah has officially withdrawn from the Cruiserweight Contenders Tournament... and Simon Lebec has forfeited his spot in the Cruiserweight Contenders Tournament... meaning that... the winner... advancing on to Ring Wars IV... RONNIE PARIS! [Heel pop as Sparkplug waits for Paris' music to begin... but nothing happens. Instead the anonymous suit makes a "stall for time" gesture.] SL: Ummm... next week... next week be sure to watch IIWF Saturday Night as it comes live from the Happiest Place on Earth... Disneyland, in Anaheim, California!  Mickey... Goofy... Louise... help me.... [Frightened pop as Sparkplug begins to flopsweat, the suit continuing to tell him to stall for time.] SL: Don't forget... official IIWF souvenirs are available in the lobby! Be sure to buy merchandise from your favorite IIWF superstars like Steve Kowalski... Joe Petrow... The Syndicate... Deathbringer and Mad Dog Watkins... TD: Good grief. SR: It's great to be young and alive, ain't it, Dross? [The murmurs grow louder... then are interrupted as the IIWF Crew hits the ring. They are carrying a 10 foot high ladder which they place in the center of the ring.] TD: Well, there's something going on here, Steve Roberts. SR: Yeah, Sparkplug's about to burst into "Onward Christian Soldiers". This is real bad, Dross.  Real, real bad. [Sparkplug is brought an enormous towel into the ring, and is given a note that immediately brings a smile to his cherubic face.] SL: Ladies and gentlemen... I have just been informed that upon that stepladder has been placed one... one entrance ticket to Disneyland in sunny Southern California. The first IIWF Cruiserweight who is able to grab that ticket will not only be admitted to Tomorrowland and the wonderful Matterhorn... but will move on to the Cruiserweight Contender's Finals to meet Ronnie Paris for the right to go on to Ring_Wars_IV! [Big pop from the crowd who now sense they are about to see a competition of some type.  Sparkplug dives out of the ring... and the fans anxiously look down the aisle.] TD: Well... the IIWF continues its policy of turning lemons into lemonade. I don't know what's gonna happen... but it's gonna happen right now! [The crowd eagerly anticipates... something to happen... then emerging from the tunnel... walking almost as if disbelieving his own footsteps...] TD: It's... It's... Casey C! SR: Didn't he quit the promotion? [The small collection of fans who have been spending the evening rooting wildly for the Jobber Justice Squad now go apoplectic.  Young Casey C tentatively continues his walk down the aisle... his "There's No Justice Like Jobber Justice" t-shirt proudly adorning his body. Casey C. reaches halfway up the aisle... when he sees another figure beginning to emerge...] TD: It's Bobby B. Goode!  Bobby B. Goode is walking down the aisle! SR: He shaved his head, Dross, he's got sort of a boxing thing going on now... what the hell's going on around here? [Bobby B. walks stoically into the aisle... pausing only to shoot a round from his "Goode Gun" into the stands... but then his icy visage returns. Casey C stands in the aisle waiting for him... and when the two men meet -- they each continue their slow walk to the ring.] TD: Well, it appears that Casey C. and Bobby B. Goode are going to... race... to that ticket!  One of these men will move on to the Finals of the Crusierweight Contenders Tournament! SR: This is the darkest day in the history of the IIWF. [Goode and Casey continue... and appear to be conversing as with a dramatic flourish El Super Gecko appears in the aisle, the Gecko running up to his stablemates and wildly gesticulating.] TD: There appears to be some type of dispute here... the Gecko appears to be saying that he is the true icon of the Jobber Justice Squad... and that he deserves the shot. SR: It looks like Bobby B. Goode is making some type of hand gesture, like he's trying to rub something off his fingers... TD: Good God!  Casey C. just chopped his crotch!  [The crowd pops now as the three men begin pushing and shoving at each other in the aisle... Gecko takes a wild swing at Goode, which is slipped by Bobby who sends out a thrust kick toward Casey... who blocks it and then tries to lift Gecko for a suplex... causing all three men to fall to the ground.] TD: This is... well, this is not good. SR: Hah!  No Jobber Justice, No Jobber Peace!  No Jobber Justice, No Jobber Peace! [The crowd continues its pop as Majestic Maurice McArthur enters, followed by Scott Bloom and Ned Norton... all of whom moving to break up the fight... until 3M makes a break for the ring!  Maurice makes a break for the ring and is hauled down by Norton, Ned calling Maurice a "ball hog".] SR: What the hell does that mean? TD: I don't know -- but we have six men, six friends rolling around the aisle... each trying to climb into the ring for the right to meet Ronnie Paris next week... and some of them aren't even cruiserweights! SR: Hell, Dross... Norton looks like he's put on a couple of pounds. Hey, Ned -- stay off the crullers, buddy. [The jobbers continue their row, their selection of fans now openly weeping at the sight of their beloved heroes engaged in... well... whatever it is they're engaged in.  The men all slowly make their way to their feet... and move... in what looks more like a scrum or a group hug than a brawl... toward the ring...] TD: It's Dakota Bundy!  It's Dakota Bundy!  Aw, this is about to get real unpleasant, Steve Roberts. [Bundy hits the group with a flying crossbody... then picks each man out one by one.  Norton... Firearm! 3M... Firearm! Bloom... Firearm! Bundy dropping each man flat on his back until the only man left standing is he... and he climbs into the ring!] TD: Oh My!  Dakota Bundy just laid out the entire Jobber Justice Squad singles ranks... and he is going to win this... whatever this is! SR: He's got company, Dross!  Look who's coming out of the stands! [Big Pop as Richard "Moxy" Blue, wearing an orange jumpsuit and leg irons, hits the ring, diving at Bundy as he was about to step foot on the ladder... the two men brawl on the canvas... Blue peppering Bundy with lightning fast knife edge chops until Bundy is able to regain his bearings and then roar back at Moxy Blue with a series of powerful right hands!] TD: Look at this, Steve Roberts... Richard "Moxy" Blue and Dakota Bundy are really going at it... each man standing near that ladder... each man just a few short steps away from advancing on to the Finals of the Cruiserweight Contenders Tournament! [Bundy catches Blue with a nice belly-to-belly suplex... but Blue responds with a dragon screw and a standing moonsault that brings the crowd to its feet... allowing it to see, emerging from the tunnel...] TD: It's Scott Rogers!  What in the world is Scott Rogers doing here?! SR: Hey, Rogers... Cruiserweight has nothing to do with the movie "Cruisin'". [Rogers races to the ring as "Moxy" Blue has been able to hop atop the ladder... Blue only a few steps away... and Rogers pulls him off!  Scott Rogers pulls "Moxy" Blue off and begins to stomp him into the canvas!  Big Heel Pop!] TD: Rogers is helping Bundy!  There had been rumors about Dakota Bundy joining Genesis... but now it appears that Scott Rogers is aligning himself with Bundy alone! SR: The ugly man is gonna win this thing, Dross!  Bundy's going to that ladder! [Bundy moves back to his feet... Rogers motions him to climb the ladder as "The Fop" continues to keep Blue at bay... Bundy climbs a step... two steps... three steps and is now reaching for the ticket...] TD: It's the Highwayman!  It's the Highwayman! SR: I thought we already had the Jobber Justice Squad out here, Dross. [The Highwayman leaps into the ring, knocking Bundy from the ladder... which manages to remain upright... and then begins to pummel Bundy to the mat!] TD: I'm not sure... I think the Highwayman has decided to align himself with Richard "Moxy" Blue!  I don't know what is going on out here! [Rogers and Highwayman scoop their respective cruisers into the air... and then throw them in the middle of the ring!  Rogers yelling for Bundy... the Highwayman suddenly shouting directions for "Moxy"... the Cruiserweights remain confused momentarily... but then begin to attack each other again!] TD: Blue and Bundy one more time!  It seems that these men are taking instruction from Rogers and the Highwayman!  Rogers tells Bundy to attack... Highwayman tells Blue to duck... this is bizarre, Steve Roberts... [Bundy swings with a wild attempt at a Firearm... Blue slips, converting into an atomic drop that sends Bundy over to Rogers... Rogers catching the cruiserweight and tossing him into a crossbody of Blue -- who was attempting to again, climb the ladder.] TD: We have a fight going on here, Steve Roberts... one of these two men is on his way... Look, Steve Roberts... Up In the Sky... It's... it's a bird. No -- check that... it's a Plane..... SR: No... it's Timmy Turner!  Tim Turner is flying into Falcon Stadium on that jet pack!  [Big Pop as the crowd recognizes the figure of Timothy Turner, flying majestically over the horizon and into the bowl shaped stadium. Turner, a huge sign attached to his back reading "California or Bust!" flies on over the ring... swoops down to the ladder... and as Bundy and Blue look on helplessly... _snatches_ the ticket from its perch... and continues on... sailing out of sight to a strongly favorable roar from the huge crowd!] SL: Your winner... and moving to the Finals of the Cruiserweight Contenders Tournament... Timothy N. Turner! [Big Pop as the JJS has now recovered in the aisle -- and along with security breaks up the in-ring brawl, the jobbers now left alone in the ring to the cheers of their followers... the justice squad members positioning their bodies in such a fashion to spell out the initials "JJS" while "YMCA" by the Village People blares out over the P.A.] TD: Well, it will apparently be Tim Turner who meets Ronnie Paris next week, the winner moving on to meet Derek Mota at Ring Wars IV for the Cruiserweight Championship of the World! SR: Only in the Double Eye, Dross, can you take a Simon Lebec/Dirt Dog Unique Allah match and come out with Tim Turner as your winner. Unbelievable. TD: Indeed. Well, folks, I understand we're running a little long here tonight, and my producer has just informed me that we're going to go straight to the Intercontinental Championship match between Chris Quigley and Serge Annis. SR: Aw, shoot, Dross -- they postponed this match before, why not again? TD: The fans have waited long enough for this one, Steve Roberts. [Cut to a backstage shot of Intercontinental Champion Chris Quigley, walking along a corridor on his way to the stadium entrance, clad in his black leather jacket and silver wire-rimmed sunglasses.  The Intercontinental Title belt is slung over one shoulder, and Quigley is looking quite confident as he strides wilth purpose down the hall, the camera following him all the way.] TD: There is Chris Quigley, the current Intercontinental title holder. He certainly has the look of a man who has complete faith in his abilities, Steve Roberts.  This long-awaited match with Serge Annis doesn't seem to be troubling him in the slightest. SR: Well, it ought to be, Dross.  But I've gotta admit, I've got complete faith in Kick-me's abilities, too. TD: You do? SR: Sure -- his ability to get his prissy ass kicked all over the ring by Annis, his ability to bitch and complain and make excuses about it afterwards, his ability to turn tail and hide behind the physically disabled when his big mouth gets him in trouble... TD: I was referring to Quigley's abilities as one of the top technicians in the IIWF, Steve. SR: So was I, Dross.  So was I. TD: But you never menti... hold on a minute, look at this, Steve!  Duncan Macbeth has just emerged from the trainer's room backstage!  Duncan Macbeth and Chris Quigley are on a collision course for each other! This could get ugly! SR: Looks like Molly MacButter's gonna get an early Christmas present, Dross!  And Serge Annis just might get the night off again!  This is great! [Cut back to the backstage shot, where we see Duncan Macbeth, clad in his blue-and-white-crossed wrestling attire, walking down the hallway towards the dressing rooms as he applies layer after layer of white tape to his hands and wrists in preparation for his upcoming match with J.W. Hardin.  Macbeth does not notice Chris Quigley as he suddenly appears around a corner, but the Intercontinental champ immediately spots the ginger-haired Scot and strides right up to him, twisting his facial features into a disdainful scowl.] CQ: Hey, Macbeth, you overrated, talentless, cross-dressing loser!  You gonna come watch a _real_ wrestler at work?  Why don't you come down to the ring, and see what I'm gonna do to whatever's left of you at Ring Wars after the Outlaw gets done with you tonight, you illiterate sheepherder? TD: [over the headset] Oh my goodness... SR: [over the headset] Them's fightin' words, Dross... [Macbeth's gaze looks like it could burn through concrete as he leans in nose-to-nose with Quigley, and hisses menacingly at the Canadian.] DM: Well well, if it's no' "Mr. Hardcore" himself!  What a laugh!  About th' only thing YE'RE goin' t' do at Ring Wars, tosser, is BLEED, before I take tha' shiny gold belt from ye!  No DQ means no excuses, Quigley, sae ye might as well just give me tha' strap right now! CQ: Oh, I'm gonna give it to you, all right... TD: [over the headset] Someone had better get some security down there before... here comes Steve Manning! SR: Take cover, MacBean, it's a runaway moron! [Just then, from behind, Steve Manning, Jr. comes barrelling around a corner, pushing his wheelchair for all he's worth, and careens right into the legs of Duncan Macbeth, bowling him over!  Manning speeds off down the aisle like a bat out of hell as Macbeth springs back up to his feet, his eyes flashing green fire, and bolts down the hall after him. While the Scot's attention is momentarily distracted, though, Chris Quigley takes the opportunity to quickly whip the Intercontinental Title off of his shoulder, and cracks the heavy belt against the back of Macbeth's skull as he turns away!  Macbeth collapses in a heap on the floor, clutching at his head, while Quigley stands over him, smirking.] CQ: Sorry I can't stick around, Scottie, but I've got some business to take care of now.  That's just a taste of what you're gonna get at Ring Wars!  Like you said... no excuses! [With that, Quigley turns and continues down the hallway, once more slinging his belt over his shoulder as he makes his way casually to the entrance of Falcon Stadium as behind him, a security team finally arrives on the scene, helping the groggy Macbeth to his feet.  The Scot shakes his head to clear the cobwebs, then as his wits return, he begins to strain angrily against the horde of security guards in his rage to pursue the Intercontinental Champion.  Quigley turns the corner at the far end of the hall as the security team drags the incensed, cursing Macbeth back to the dressing rooms.] TD: What a tense sequence of events backstage here at Falcon Stadium, Steve Roberts.  Chris Quigley got some payback for the post-match beating and embarrassment inflicted on him by Duncan Macbeth some weeks back, and the young Scot will almost certainly be out for blood in two weeks' time, at Ring Wars IV. SR: Absolutely, Dross, and you have to think that Kick-me's just gift-wrapping that belt for MacBean by asking for a no-disqualification match.  Chrissie's been talkin' real tough around here lately, tryin' to play the hard man, but he just ain't hard, period.  Now, not only is he gonna choke up his title to the big man in two weeks, but he's also gonna get an all-expenses paid holiday in the intensive care wing of L.A. General Hospital. TD: That remains to be seen, Steve, but Quigley has certainly put a lot more on the line than his belt by asking for this stipulation, and one has to wonder how much is owed to the influence of Steve Manning, Jr. in this situation. SR: Stupid is as stupid does, Dross. TD: It appears that they're about ready to go at ringside.  Let's go up to the ring for the announcements. ________ ______ | || |\ \ /\ / /| __|.................................................. | || | \ v v / | __| IIWF INTERCONTINENTAL CHAMPIONSHIP MATCH: |_||_| \_/\_/ |_| "Quickstrike" Chris Quigley [c] vs. Serge Annis ....................................................................... WRITER: SK [Sparkplug Lee climbs into the ring, clad in a World War II era bomber jacket and leather flying cap, drawing an appreciative pop from the huge cadet contingent in the audience.  Lee snaps off a crisp salute to the fans, then pulls the match card out of his pocket, his breath beginning to come out in white wisps of steam in the evening mountain air.] SL: Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is scheduled for one fall, and is for the IIWF Intercontinental Championship! [big pop from the fans]  Introducing first, the challenger, he hails from Oakville, Ontario, Canada, and weighs in at 293 pounds, here is the "Epitome Of Evil", SERGE ANNIS! ["Some Days It's Dark" by Death Lurks rings throughout the stadium, and all eyes turn to the wrestlers' entrance to await the appearance of the Epitome Of Evil, but long moments go by and still Serge Annis does not appear in the aisle.  In the ring, Sparkplug Lee checks his watch as referee Dave D'Amato moves over to Lee and speaks with him, then Lee raises the mic once more.] SL: Ahem... once again, introducing the challenger, from Oakville, Ontario, Canada, weighing 293 pounds... SERGE ANNIS! [The music continues, and the crowd begins to buzz restlessly as more long moments go by without an appearance from Annis.  Lee and D'Amato are having an animated discussion in the ring, as the official instructs Lee to carry on with the introductions.] TD: Where on earth could Serge Annis be, Steve?  There's no way he's going to miss his first opportunity to win gold in the IIWF. SR: Beats me, Dross, but now that the Bangles have broken up, it's pretty much Serge Annis against the world here in the Double Eye now.  There's lots of guys out there that would like to see Annis miss his shot -- the Fop, the Undead Frozen Cavemen, the Subway Stinker, Creed, the Butcher -- hell, Macbeth might have jumped him to make sure he gets his hands on Quigley at Ring Wars -- but I think this is just Annis being his evil little self.  He'll show. TD: Let's hope so, because a no-show victory for Quigley would certainly be anticlimactic after all the buildup to this long-awaited matchup. Let's go back to the ring. [Sparkplug Lee clears his throat once again, looks to D'Amato, who nods at the announcer, and once more raises the mic.] SL: Ladies and gentlemen, at this time allow me to introduce the IIWF Intercontinental Champion!  He hails from Corner Brook, Newfoundland, Canada and weighs in at 238 pounds, here is "QUICKSTRIKE" CHRIS QUIGLEY! ["For Those About To Rock" by AC/DC blares from the P.A. as the Intercontinental Champion, clad in his leather jacket with the "Quickstrike" skull and lightning bolts logo and his silver wire-rimmed sunglasses, appears in the aisle to a rousing pop, holding the shiny belt high over his head as he strolls cockily down the aisle.  Quigley climbs into the ring and parades around with the belt, pointing at it and mouthing the words "Quickstrike Forever", drawing a lusty chorus of boos from a small, obviously inebriated group of men at ringside clad in matching Glasgow Rangers football shirts, and stony silence from another group of young black men at ringside wearing "Creed Army" T-shirts, but with "Army crossed out and replaced with "Air Force".  The rest of the crowd, however, seem to be firmly behind the champion as he continues to grandstand in the ring.] SR: There he is, the "tough guy".  Funny how Kick-me's been so much more manly since he dumped Troy for Herbie the Love Bug.  Maybe 'cause those paraplegics are so much easier to hold down when Chrissie starts getting the itch. TD: Really, Steve, there's no need for those kind of remarks. SR: Yep, Kick-me's definitely wearing the pajama bottoms this time.  And ain't it convenient that when he's in that wheelchair, Herbie's head is right at Chrissie's crotch level?  It's a match made in heaven, Dross! TD: Once again, ladies and gentlemen, I must apologise for my broadcast colleague's appalling lack of tact. SR: Lack of tact?  I've got tact coming out of my ass, Dross!   [Quigley removes the jacket and sunglasses, and begins bouncing off the ropes as Lee and D'Amato confer once more, and then Lee raises the mic for another announcement.] SL: Ladies and gentlemen, the referee has ruled that if Serge Annis does not come to the ring within the next sixty seconds, he will FORFEIT this match to... [Lee's announcements are cut off as the lights in the stadium fade to an eerie crimson glow, and "Some Days It's Dark" blasts forth once more form the P.A..  Quigley stops his warmup and looks up the aisle in anticipation of Annis' entrance.  At the top of the aisle, a column of fire bursts to life in the entranceway, touching off a thin trail of fire that slowly begins to spark and sputter towards the ring.  As the crowd buzzes with anticipation, Quigley folds his arms and looks bored with the pyrotechnic display as he awaits Annis' appearance, but at that moment, from behind...] TD: IT"S SERGE ANNIS!  Serge Annis was in the crowd the whole time! SR: And he is _pissed_, Dross!  Look at him go to work on Kick-me!  This is great! [Lee scrambles out of the ring and Dave D'Amato calls for the bell as Serge Annis, wearing his black wrestling gear, a black T-shirt that reads "Creed's Breed", and a thin line of crimson paint under his left eye, storms into the ring behind the unsuspecting Quigley and takes him down with a vicious double axehandle!  Big heel pop from the crowd! Annis drops a heavy elbow on the disoriented champion, then scoops him up and whips him hard into the turnbuckles!  Annis follows him in and lets loose with a flurry of punches, kicks, and knee lifts that rock Quigley until D'Amato moves in to break things up, which Annis does by grabbing two handfuls of Quigley's hair and snap-maring him across the ring!  As the heel heat intensifies, Annis points down at the members of the Creed Air Force and then tears the "Creed's Breed" T-shirt off his back, throwing it disdainfully at the group of young black men, who just scowl up at the Epitome Of Evil in silence.] TD: Annis is, pardon the pun, on fire here, Steve Roberts!  He caught Chris Quigley completely unawares by stalling his entrance and then coming out of the crowd! SR: Yeah, but he's wasting valuable time now jawing with those Creed-lovin' morons, Dross!  Annis can't afford to get distracted, there's a belt on the line here! [Indeed, for as Annis turns his attention from the Creed Air Force back to the match, he is met with a lightning-fast dropkick from a resurgent Chris Quigley!  Pop!  Annis staggers back into the ropes, and Quigley instantly leaps upon the huge Oakville native and monkey-flips him across the ring!  Annis no sooner rises to his knees when he is cut down again by a scything clothesline from the Intercontinental champion! Huge pop from the crowd!] TD: And just like, that, the tide has turned, Steve Roberts!  Serge Annis' early advantage has been lost in one momentarily lapse in concentration, and now it is Chris Quigley with the momentum! SR: Maybe for now, Dross, but Serge is a tough guy, and when he starts playing the tough game, Chrissie's gonna get pounded flatter than Troy in a roomful of cactuses. [Quigley pounces on the downed Annis and grabs both of his legs, pulling him over into a half-crab, which causes Annis to grimace in pain, but Quigley is unable to keep the powerful Annis from dragging himself to the ropes to break the hold.  Quigley gives Annis a couple of stiff shots to the back of the head after the break, then scoops him up and whips him into the opposite ropes, but in a flash, Annis reverses the whip, and pulls the Intercontinental champ into a vicious short-arm clothesline that nearly takes Quigley's head off!  Big heel pop!  Annis hangs on to Quigleys arm, yanks him back to his feet, and short-arms him again, sending Quigley cartwheeling head over heels to the mat!] SR: 9.6... 9.7... 9.6... aww, only a 9.4 from the Romanian judge. Kick-me may have to settle for the bronze, Dross. TD: Another quick turnaround to this match, as Annis reassert himself with a couple of vicious clotheslines.  Serge Annis is displaying an aggressiveness here that we haven't seen for some time, Steve Roberts, almost as if the breakup of Genesis has unleashed the darker side of Annis' psyche. SR: Serge Annis has a _darker_ side?  That's kind of like saying J.W. Hardin's "a little upset" at Brody Thunder.  If Annis' psyche was any more dark... it couldn't, Dross. [Annis picks up Quigley, grinning manaically, slaps on a reverse facelock, and kicks his legs high into the air, driving Quigley's head into the mat with a jumping DDT!  Annis leaps to his feet, drops another big elbow to the throat that leaves the Intercontinental champion gasping for breath, then picks him up again and slings him into the ropes, setting up for a lariat.  Quigley rebounds off the ropes, and...] TD: Drop kick from Quigley! [Quigley launches himself into the air, aiming his feet at the chest of Serge Annis, but the big man sees it coming and sidesteps the move, catching Quigley in mid-air as he passes by, and ploughs him into the mat with a modified side slam!  Heel pop!  Annis covers for the pin - 1 - 2 - kickout by Quigley!] TD: What a reversal by Serge Annis, and we very nearly saw the title change hands right there! SR: Great.  Here comes Herbie the Love Bug.  Damn those do-gooder wheelchair access lobbyists!  There's just not enough stairs in this lousy government-funded dump! [As Annis drags Quigley back up, Steve Manning, Jr., clad in a makeshift T-shirt that simply reads "Shoot Soundbite!" appears in the aisle and begins wheeling his way down to ringside, unleashing a torrent of insults at Annis as he approaches the ring.  Annis spots Manning, and makes a point of gesturing to the stunned Intercontinental champion before lifting him up and driving him into the mat with a excruciatingly powerful crotchslam!  Big heel pop!  Annis turns back to Manning and points to Quigley as he writhes on the mat in agony, but oddly, Manning breaks out into a fit of hysterical laughter!] TD: This is bizarre, Steve!  Serge Annis just laid out Chris Quigley with that agonizing crotchslam, and Manning seems to find it funny! SR: He's a sick, twisted little moron, that's for sure, Dross.  Kinda makes you wonder how he got in that wheelchair in the first place.  He'd better be careful about cracking wise about the Soundbite, though -- it'd be a damn shame if he lost the use of his arms, too. [Annis stands in the ring hurling insults down at Manning, who's hysteria just seems to escalate with every taunt Annis directs at him. Seeing that his words aren't having their desired effect, Annis finally decides to silence the paraplegic pest by spitting on him!] TD: Oh my goodness!  That's disgusting!  How could Serge Annis do such a revolting thing? SR: It's easy, Dross!  He doesn't move that fast, so he's not too hard to miss!  Fire at will, Serge!   [The crowd goes silent in shock as Manning just stares up at Annis, spittle running down his face, and then, incredibly, he bursts out in yet another spasm of uncontrollable laughter!] TD: This is... surreal is the only word that comes to mind, Steve. Serge Annis is humiliating Steve Manning, Jr. on network television and in front of this capacity crowd, and Manning is just laughing at him! SR: Well, at least we know how to make the little moron happy now, Dross.  I guess we should all make a point of spitting on Manning, as often as possible.  Hey, I'll bet I can get him from here... [Roberts makes a loud, disgusting hawking sound in the back of his throat.] TD: You'll do no such thing, mister...  look out, here comes Quigley! [While Annis is beside himself in consternation over Manning's antics, Chris Quigley leaps up behind the big man grapevines his arms with his own legs and arms, dragging him down into a...] TD: Crucifix by Quigley!  Here's the count... one... two... Annis kicks out! [Both men struggle back to their feet, but Quigley is just a little bit faster, and drops Annis back to the canvas with a beautifully-executed standing drop kick!  Pop!  Suddenly, a cheer of a different sort erupts from the crowd as a figure appears in the aisle and begins making his way to ringside.] TD: It's Creed!  Creed is coming down to the ring area! SR: Maybe he wants to hawk a few loogies at Manning too, Dross!  Hell, Dictator Danny ought to have a pay-per-view just for that! [The red-gloved superstar is carrying a blood-red painted folding chair over his shoulder as he strides down the aisle, and the members of the Creed Air Force raise their fists in the air and chant his name as he passes, but Creed just ignores Manning completely as he finds a spot near the ring and unfolds the chair, watching the action in the ring intently.  Manning hurls a couple of taunts at Creed from his position opposite the ring, but Creed either doesn't hear him or takes no notice as he observes Annis and Quigley at work.] TD: The presence of Creed at ringside has got to be a distraction for both these men, Steve.  There's certainly no love lost between Creed and Quigley, but after the red-gloved warrior's announcement just yesterday that he will be leaving the IIWF for good after Ring Wars IV, the story here is Creed vs. Serge Annis. SR: Yeah, some announcement... "You want Creed?  You want Creed?  You want Creed?" and on and on and on... I tell you, it's bad enough that Creed makes MacBean sound like a Rhodes scholar, but that short-term memory loss on top of it all is just too much to take, Dross.  Good riddance. [Back in the ring, Quigley grabs the legs of the prone Annis, and begins to apply the Quickstriker!  The fans pop wildly as they recognise the move, but so does Serge Annis, who kicks Quigley hard in the small of the back as he twists around, and the Intercontinental champ crumples to the mat!  Annis dashes to the ropes to hit Quigley with a flying headbutt, but as he hits the twine, Steve Manning pulls out a long metal object from his chair parked beside the apron, and lashes out, catching Annis right in the kidneys!] TD: Annis is down!  Serge Annis is down!  Steve Manning just struck Annis from behind with a metal pipe or bar of some sort, and Annis is in agony in the middle of the ring! SR: D'Amato didn't see the moron, Dross!  Kick-me's gonna cover!  Herbie the Love Bug saves little Chrissie's ass again!  This is sickening, Dross.  Sickening. [Annis is curled up in a fetal position on the mat, gripping his sides in obvious pain, and Quigley, himself in some difficulty, has all the time in the world to drag himself over to Annis and drape an arm over him for the pin - 1 - 2 - 3!  Ding!  Ding!  Ding! SL: Ladies and gentlemen, here is your winner... and STILL IIWF Intercontinental Champion, "QUICKSTRIKE" CHRIS QUIGLEY! ["For Those About To Rock" blasts from the P.A. once again as Quigley rolls off of Annis and under the ropes to the outside, where he raises his fists to the night sky in celebration, receiving an uncharacteristically lukewarm pop from the crowd, who seem disappointed by the manner in which Quigley defeated Annis.  Steve Manning, however, is grinning like a Cheshire cat as he wheels over to the timekeeper's table, grabs the Intercontinental title belt and presents it to Quigley, who holds it over his head, then moves over to a ringside camera and slings the belt over his shoulder, clearly mouthing the words "You'll never wear this belt, Macbeth!  Never!".  Meanwhile, Serge Annis is slow to get up from the pipe shot to his lower back, and he struggles to one knee as Creed stands up outside the ring, folds up his chair, and unnoticed by Annis, begins to climb into the ring!] TD: What is Creed playing at here?  Serge Annis has not seen Creed enter the ring, but the red-gloved superstar is not attacking!  He's put his chair down in the middle of the ring, and now he's just sitting there! SR: Bad move, Dross.  I mean, we all know Creed's a monosyllabic idiot, but Annis is going to be looking for things to break after losing to Kick-me in such a cheap, disgusting, lowlife fashion.  If Creed wants to leave the Double Eye two weeks early on a gurney, this is a real good way to do it. [As Annis manages to pull himself up to one knee, he sees Creed seated directly in front of him, his fiery stare burning a hole right through the Epitome Of Evil!  The anger that wells in the black heart of Annis at the sight of the red-gloved sensation makes him momentarily forget his injury, and he fairly leaps to his feet, unleashing a torrent of insults and curses at Creed, who just sits there calmly, never taking his gaze from Annis the whole time.  Annis becomes more and more incensed at Creed's stony silence, and finally, he can take no more, charging at the seated wrestler with a lariat!] TD: Annis looking for the clothesline... NO!  Creed counters with a kick to the midsection! SR: And here comes the Subway Stinker!  Annis is gonna get punked!  I can't believe I'm seein' this, Dross! [Big pop from the crowd as the Subway Psycho bursts from the entranceway and charges down the aisle towards the ring!  At the same time, Creed rises from his chair after kicking Annis in the gut, spins the 293-pound Canadian around, and locks in a full nelson, proceeding to heave Annis over his head and onto the red steel chair with a Dragon Creedplex! Incredible pop from the crowd!] TD: What a move!  Creed has just destroyed Annis with that Creedplex onto the chair!  And the Subway Psycho has just hit the ring!  This is absolute chaos, Steve! SR: This is an absolute outrage, Dross!  First Annis gets robbed by Herbie and his greasy-haired, whiny little wrestling buddy, and now we have to watch him get done over by the Stinker and the second coming of Mr. T. TD: Well, you may have been right when you said it would be Serge Annis against the world after Genesis, Steve, and we may be seeing the proof of that right now. [The Psycho sprints up the ring steps and vaults over the top rope, making a beeline for the stunned Annis, launching himself at the downed Canadian with a reckless plancha dive, but Creed whirls as the Psycho flies by him and lashes out with a spin kick, catching the Psycho in the midsection and sending him crashing to the mat beside Annis!  Creed motions at the Psycho for him to leave Annis to him, but the enraged People's Champion is having none of this, and he leaps to his feet and swings away at Creed!  The two exchange a volley of vicious lefts and rights, each man seemingly determined to annihilate the other, but from out of nowhere, the forgotten Serge Annis drops both Creed _and_ the Psycho to the mat with a huge double clothesline!  SR: Attaboy, Serge! Nobody punks the Epitome of Evil, baby dolls! [Annis begins kicking away at the Subway Psycho, then spots the red steel chair and seizes it, raising it high over his head and bringing it down on the back of the prone Creed's head!  Annis still does not look that steady on his feet, but the manaical grin has returned to his face, and he raises the chair for another shot at Creed!  Before he can bring it down again, though, he is swarmed from behind by the Jobber Justice Squad, who have finally made their way to the ring, and several jobbers tackle Annis to the mat while two other groups drag Creed and the Subway Psycho from the ring.  Creed is holding the back of his head and screaming across at Annis as he is herded up the aisle, and Annis just leers at the red-gloved superstar, brandishing the chair high over his head with one hand as the jobbers try their best to wrest it from him. The Subway Psycho is absolutely livid, and he strains against the clutches of the JJS like a wild animal as he tries to break loose and attack both Annis and Creed, but eventually, the jobbers manage to remove all three combatants from the ring area, to a big pop from the crowd and an especially rousing cheer from a group of fans seated along the aisle, all sporting identical T-shirts that read "There's No Justice Like Jobber Justice!".] TD: Well, a very interesting series of events have just unfolded here, Steve Roberts.  It seems that Creed's last wish in the IIWF is to get his hands on Serge Annis, and the altercation we have just witnessed is just the tip of the iceberg for what's in store for these two in just two short weeks at Ring Wars IV.  For Annis, though, it's a double-edged sword, because the Subway Psycho is apparently also looking for a piece of the Epitome Of Evil. SR: I'm sure Serge is really worried about it, Dross.  He took a pipe in the guts from Herbie the Love Bug, he got dropped on a chair by Son of T, and who was the only man standing at the end of it all?  Serge F'n Annis, that's who.  _That's_ hardcore... take note, Chrissie, 'cause you'll never be _that_ hard as long as you live, son.  Ever.      [Meanwhile, at ringside, Chris Quigley has been towelling himself off as he watched the previous action unfold, and after donning a "Quickstrike Island -- Trespassers Will Be Shot" T-shirt and fastening his Intercontinental title belt around his waist, he finds an empty seat near where Steve Manning has parked himself, and climbs over the guardrail and sits down, much to the delight of the fans around him, although Quigley largely ignores the attention.] TD: Chris Quigley has remained at ringside during this entire affair, and now he's taken a seat, no doubt to check out the man who he'll now almost certainly be facing at Ring Wars IV, the fiery young Scot, Duncan Macbeth, as he goes head-to-head in the main event with the "living legend" of the IIWF, the "Outlaw" himself, J.W. Hardin.  SR: Can't wait for this one, Dross.  We'll be seeing the red stuff tonight, and plenty of it! TD: Hardin, whose "contract" with the IIWF apparently allows him to determine when and whom he will wrestle, asked specifically for Macbeth for this Saturday Night.  The Outlaw is hot on the trail of the man who double-crossed him weeks ago, IIWF Heavyweight Champion "Lone Wolf" Brody Thunder, and it is obvious that he wants to send a clear message to the champ by making an example of one of the hottest rising stars in the IIWF at this moment. SR: You gotta hand it to MacBean though, he didn't so much as bat an eyelash when he found out that the Outlaw was gunning for him, even with a title shot on the line in two weeks.  How many injunctions do you think Kick-me would have filed for by now if Hardin was after _him_? I'll tip my hat to the Scot, he's got a lot of brass - for a dead man, that is. [Cut back to the broadcast table at ringside.] TD: What a contest, Steve Roberts! Chris Quigley survives to fight another day -- and that day is coming up in just two weeks at Ring Wars IV! SR: It's all about the big show, baby dolls! TD: It certainly is, and right now we're very privileged to be able to welcome the IIWF President, Daniel Spreadbury, himself onto the show via a live satellite link to the IIWF Towers in Portland, Oregon. [Cut to a split-screen: on the left, Dross and Roberts at the broadcast table; on the right, the IIWF President sits behind his impressive desk, which is almost completely covered in piles of paper.] TD: Welcome to the show, Mr. President! DS: Good evening, gentlemen. It's a pleasure to be here. TD: First of all, President Dan, how are you feeling after last week's attack at the hands of the Syndicate? DS: I have to say that my pride was hurt more than I was, Tim. Sure, my neck's been more than a little sore over the past seven days, but there's no lasting damage. The Syndicate, on the other hand -- well, let's just say that there was no danger of the door hitting them on their way out. They hit the ground running... and kept going. That's all I wish to say about the matter. TD: Of course. Then, if I may, perhaps I could turn the discussion around to Ring Wars IV. DS: That's why I'm here, Tim. We've already announced seven great matches for this event -- and I'm here tonight to announce more. There will also be a thirty minute pre-show Free For All featuring two great matches, and I have details of that, too. TD: Well, the tension has certainly been building here tonight, Mr. President. Before I ask you to announce those matches, perhaps you wouldn't mind commenting on a few of the events that have gone down over the course of tonight. DS: Be my guest. TD: Firstly, what about the continued attacks on Marty Warnett by this mysterious individual who may or may not be working for "Superstar" Stud Stetson? DS: Let me reiterate that there has been no contact between Stud Stetson and the IIWF since Mr. Stetson reneged on his IIWF contract last spring, and nor is there likely to be at any point in the future. TD: With all due respect, Mr. President, that doesn't seem to rule out the possibility that whomever this individual who is plaguing Marty Warnett might be could be working for Stud Stetson, regardless of his involvement with the IIWF. DS: You're right, of course, Tim. I have actually spoken to Marty Warnett over the course of the past week, and he has been pressuring me to sanction a match between this assailant and his good self. I was reluctant, and told him so -- but that has changed with tonight's events. Marty has requested that the IIWF drop the criminal investigation into the attacks and instead work on drawing up a contract for this mystery individual to sign so that these two men may meet in the ring. Provided that this attacker agrees to the terms of the contract, we will see him face Marty Warnett at Ring Wars IV in two weeks! TD: You're signing this vicious lunatic to a match? DS: Indeed I am. Marty Warnett believes that dealing with this attacker in the most public fashion -- in the ring -- is the way to put a stop to his assaults. After tonight's events, I am forced to agree. TD: So that's one new match announced for Ring Wars IV! What about the brutal attack on Lord Byron and Lady DeWinter earlier this evening by Simon Lebec and Otto Verhoeven? DS: Well, this is a most difficult issue. I have heard from the Colorado State Police Department that Mr. Lebec has been taken into custody for violating the terms of his bail -- and I do feel a certain responsibility for not preventing a clearly unbalanced individual near other employees only one week after he stabbed a fellow worker. I will be taking counsel on the matter of Mr. Lebec. Otto Verhoeven will be fined heavily for his actions this evening -- any further disciplinary action is a matter for the front office and the wrestler alone. TD: And what of Lord Byron? Are there any plans to reinstate him to active duty in the IIWF? DS: Due to the terms of the contract signed by Lord Byron to wrestle Creed in that "Loser Leaves Town" match at Coronation Clash, I'm afraid that there is simply no possibility of Lord Byron returning to active duty in the IIWF. TD: Surely Byron will be beating a path to your door to appeal that decision after what we saw tonight? DS: Maybe so, but I took this issue under advisement earlier this week in anticipation of such a turn of events as this, and informed Lord Byron at the time that should things get out of hand, he would have to accept all liability. He agreed. TD: Fair enough. What about the situation we have just witnessed between Serge Annis, Creed, and the Subway Psycho? DS: I was due to announce tonight that Creed and Serge Annis are to meet at Ring Wars IV in a speciality match, the likes of which has never been seen before in the IIWF -- but following the events we have just seen, I will be sanctioning a change in that match. Serge Annis, Creed _and_ the Subway Psycho will meet in a triangle match... with the ring ropes wrapped in barbed wire! TD: Oh my goodness! A barbed wire match at Ring Wars IV! Unbelievable! DS: In addition, I have sanctioned a very unique World Tag Team Championship Match for Ring Wars IV. The current champions, Harlequin Tragedy and Icehawk, will meet the team of Harlequin Chaos and Edmund Fitzgerald for the titles! TD: I beg your pardon? Tragedy and Icehawk will wrestle their own partners in a World Tag Team Championship match? DS: That's right. This situation has arisen due to the mechanics of the contention system here in the IIWF -- because one member each of both Cold Spell and the Harlequins currently holds a title, both teams are ranked jointly not only as champions but also as number one contenders. Provided Chaos and Fitz get medical clearance to wrestle, which is expected within the next seven to ten days, we will see this match at Ring Wars IV! TD: Well, that truly is a most unusual match, Mr. President. DS: Tonight's events have also dictated that it will be either Ronnie Paris or Timothy N. Turner who faces IIWF Cruiserweight Champion Derek Mota at Ring Wars IV -- dependant, of course, on which of them is victorious next Saturday Night in the final of the contenders tournament. TD: And the Free For All match? DS: One of the matches is still being put together at the moment, but I can confirm that the other match on the Free For All will be a special eight man tag team encounter, pitting the team of Licensded for Devastation and the Natural Predators against the Machines and the Down Boys. TD: LFD and the Natural Predators will be... partners? The Machines and the Down Boys will be standing in the _same_ corner? DS: Indeed they will, Tim Dross. It's going to be an exciting night from beginning to end, from the bottom of the card to the top. TD: Speaking of the top of the card, do you have any comments on the challenge issued by IIWF World Heavyweight Champion Brody Thunder at the top of the show tonight, which was promptly answered by the "Outlaw" J.W. Hardin? DS: Pending the agreement of both parties, I am willing to change the main event for Ring Wars IV and sanction a non-title match between Brody Thunder and J.W. Hardin. We will see that match in two weeks, live on pay-per-view! TD: Ring Wars IV is truly shaping up to be an incredible event, Mr. President! DS: It certainly is, Tim. Don't forget to keep watching IIWF programming for more details about this upcoming spectacular. TD: Thank you for finding the time to join us here tonight, Mr. President. DS: My pleasure, Tim. Enjoy the rest of the show, gentlemen. Goodnight. [Cut back to a normal shot of Dross and Roberts at the broadcast table.] TD: Well, Steve Roberts -- what a card we now have for Ring Wars IV! SR: Seems like the suits have finally got their heads screwed on, Dross! We're going to see some great matches in L.A. Whoo-hoo! TD: The excitement continues to build... and we'll have more information on the matches just announced, and those we announced last week, in the coming days. Stay tuned to IIWF programming for more details, folks! Right now, it's time for tonight's main event -- pitting two of the men who will play a huge part in Ring Wars IV against one another. IIWF legend, the "Outlaw" J.W. Hardin, squares off with the number one contender to the IIWF Intercontinental Championship, Duncan Macbeth! SR: It's the Outlaw, baby dolls! The original Outlaw! TD: It certainly is. Let's get down to the ring. ________ ______ | || |\ \ /\ / /| __|.................................................. | || | \ v v / | __| Duncan Macbeth vs. "Outlaw" J.W. Hardin |_||_| \_/\_/ |_|.................................................... WRITER: DS [Sparkplug Lee steps into the ring, his breath forming clouds of mist in front of his face as the evening really begins to draw in.] RA: Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is scheduled for one fall, and it is your _main event_ of the evening! [Big pop from the forty-six thousand plus strong crowd as "Scotland the Brave" blares out over the PA.] RA: Introducing first, hailing from Glenfinnan, Scotland, and weighing in at 270lbs, here is... Duncan Macbeth! [The curtain at the head of the aisle is thrown aside, and out walks Duncan Macbeth, an intense look on his rugged face. His green eyes are fixed on the ring, his long reddish-blond hair tied back away from his face, and it soon becomes apparent that his fists are taped. Macbeth does not sport his usual kilt, but instead wears just his trunks and his leather jacket, which covers his well-defined upper body physique. Macbeth more or less ignores the fans as he makes his way determinedly to the ring.] TD: I spoke to Duncan Macbeth a couple of days ago, Steve Roberts, and he regards this match as the biggest of his career to date. Forget the battle royal which earned him his shot at the Intercontinental Championship -- he is well aware of the ramifications of beating a man like J.W. Hardin here tonight. SR: You managed to work all that out by talking to him, Dross? TD: What are you talking about, Steve Roberts? SR: Exactly. It's like the guy opens his mouth, and he speaks backwards or something. Sure, in the ring he's a guy who's proving each and every week just how good he is -- but when he tries to talk, we just go straight back to the stone age. TD: Duncan Macbeth is rightly proud of his heritage as a Scotsman, Steve Roberts -- and he has proven that he is indeed a more than worthy competitor here in the IIWF in recent weeks. Just last week, it was Macbeth who pinned Chris Quigley in the "Shower Room Showdown". SR: Yeah, Dross, but Quigley ain't no Outlaw. Sure, Quigley can tie you in knots -- and he sure gets a kick out of that, Dross, writhing male bodies in the ring... it's just wrong, Dross -- but is there a single move in his arsenal so deadly, so effective, so dangerous as the Cattle Buster DDT? TD: J.W. Hardin is certainly a very physical competitor, but I believe that his danger lies not only in his offensive arsenal -- but in his smarts. Duncan Macbeth had better be prepared not only to take a battering in there tonight, but to watch his back at all times. [Macbeth reaches the ringside area and wanders around to the side of the ring where "Quickstrike" Chris Quigley is seated, a towel draped over his shoulders, next to Steve Manning Jr.] TD: Uh-oh... we could see a bonus match right here. Macbeth is livid about that altercation we saw earlier tonight in the backstage area. SR: Look at Manning, Dross! That guy's got a mouth on him like you wouldn't believe. One of these days, somebody's gonna really drop Manning on his head to put him out of the picture. TD: Indeed, Steve Manning Jr. is certainly verbally assaulting Duncan Macbeth here -- but Macbeth is keeping his gaze fixed on Chris Quigley. We could have trouble here -- and here comes official Dave D'Amato, leaving the ring. [D'Amato steps between Macbeth and Quigley, who remains seated, and raises his hands, as if to say that he has no intention of going near the Scotsman. Macbeth spits out a vituperative final remark to both Quigley and Manning before continuing around the ring towards the ringsteps.] TD: A smart move by Macbeth, Steve Roberts. He needs to focus one hundred per cent on Hardin here tonight -- or he might not even make it to Ring Wars IV. SR: Ain't that the truth, baby dolls! Hardin's as mean as they come. [Macbeth finally climbs the ringsteps, removing his leather jacket and handing it to a ringside attendant as he does so. He steps into the squared circle between the ropes, and performs a few stretches, rolling his neck and apparently preparing himself for the battle to come. The pipe and drum racket of "Scotland the Brave" dies away as Pat Benetar's "Outlaw Blues" echoes out into the night air. Huge, huge heel pop!] RA: And introducing his opponent... hailing from Dry Gulch, Texas, and weighing in at 350lbs... he is the original "Outlaw"... he is J.W. Hardin! [The huge heel pop continues to rise in volume as a spotlight hits the head of the aisle, where the curtains are drawn aside, and out steps...] SR: It's Vanessa Del F'n' Rio, Dross! [Indeed, rather than the huge frame of Hardin appearing at the head of the aisle, a shapely and buxom woman in a tightly revealing dress, split up to the thigh and then some, has made her way out into the aisle, and waves to the fans as the catcalls rain down from the stands.] TD: I'm sorry, Steve Roberts, I'm not familiar with this, uh, young lady. SR: It's Vanessa Del Rio, Dross, for heaven's sake! Don't you know anything?! This is a real, straight up, honest to god porn star! TD: Oh my. SR: Hardin told me he was bringing an old friend along tonight -- I figured it'd be some guy like ol' Spook Boy, or that horse of his... damn, what did he call his horse? TD: I don't believe Hardin's horse has a name, Steve Roberts. SR: Well, dammit, Dross -- who the hell cares? We got a porn star out here! [As the catcalls continue, out steps the Outlaw himself, his well-muscled 350lbs frame glistening with water droplets, a smirk clearly visible on his face as he tips his hat to Del Rio, his shoulder-length black hair, worn loose as always, also dripping wet. Hardin produces a long, thin box overflowing with long-stemmed red roses, and then points towards the announce position.] TD: Oh my. SR: Aw, you're kiddin' me -- you're kiddin' me. The Soundbite's gonna get his real life porn star, Dross! [As Del Rio heads down the aisle, fans on either side trying to reach out and touch her curvaceous form, Roberts stands from the broadcast table and removes his headset, waiting for Del Rio with a smile about a mile wide on his face. Dross can be seen shaking his head in disbelief as Del Rio approaches ringside, ignoring a taunt thrown in her direction from Macbeth, who leans out of the ring and mutters something in his broad Scotch brogue. Del Rio drapes her arms around Steve Roberts' neck, and plants a kiss on his lips.] TD: Please, Steve Roberts -- this is a family show. [Roberts ushers Del Rio to a seat beside him, and then sits down at the broadcast table once more, replacing his headset.] SR: Aw yeah, Dross -- this is the stuff. TD: Good grief. In case you'd forgotten, we're about to see a match here. SR: I got the perfect match sittin' right beside me, Dross. Hardin, old buddy -- you da man! [Meanwhile, the "Outlaw" has begun to saunter slowly down the aisle towards the ring, occasionally glancing up at Macbeth in the ring with a smirk. Some of the cadets in the audience, in their clean, starched uniforms, stand up and get in Hardin's face. The cameras pick up Hardin saying that "The Army is the _real_ branch of the U.S. Armed Forces.  You flyboys ain't too much different from sheep huggers like Macbeth." This does nothing to improve the fans' opinion of Hardin, who takes great pleasure in spitting some of his chewing tobacco out onto one young cadet's clean uniform, before walking off down the aisle laughing.] TD: Oh, that is just disgusting, Steve Roberts. [pause] Steve Roberts? [pause] Never mind. Hardin now making his way to the ring -- and he is certainly not a popular man here in the Falcon Stadium. [Hardin approaches the ring and after flashing a wink to Steve Roberts, climbs directly up the ringsteps, stepping in between the ropes, and making a beeline for Macbeth, whose gaze has not wandered from the big Texan since he began his walk down the aisle. Hardin removes his hat, tossing it at Macbeth -- and it lands on the Scotsman's head! Big pop from the crowd! Macbeth reaches up and throws the hat aside, keeping his gaze fixed on Hardin. The "Outlaw" shrugs, and removes his long leather duster, revealing his simple ring attire of black trunks and boots, the latter being emblazoned with a single red "O".] TD: Look at the difference in size of these two men. Macbeth is a big man -- but he is giving away some six inches and around eighty pounds to Hardin. The Outlaw is a giant in there! [The Outlaw runs his fingers through his wet hair, and then flicks the water at Macbeth, who doesn't even flinch. The two men move closer, standing eye to eye in the centre of the ring, as official Dave D'Amato reminds the two combatants of the rules of the match, before signalling for the bell. Ding! Ding! Ding! The tension of the staredown is suddenly broken by the ringing of the bell -- and Macbeth begins to circle the Outlaw, as if looking for a point of attack.] TD: This might be a wise tactic by Macbeth in the early going here, trying to stay out of the way of Hardin's close proximity power moves. Hardin can't hit Macbeth if he can't touch him. [Hardin seems to look on almost casually as Macbeth opens his arms wide for a collar and elbow tie-up. The "Outlaw" does likewise, and as Macbeth approaches him... Hardin blasts him with a fist to the gut, rapidly followed by another, and another, backing Macbeth into the ropes. Hardin whips Macbeth across the ring, and as he rebounds from the far side, attempts to put him down with a clothesline -- but Macbeth ducks, puts on the brakes, and as Hardin wheels, leaps with a standing dropkick that staggers the big man! Big pop!] TD: Oh my! A dropkick from Macbeth has Hardin staggered -- and Macbeth follows up with a big clothesline that... oh my! [Hardin manages to catch hold of Macbeth's outstretched arm as he charges in for a clothesline, and grabs the Scotsman's neck as he does so, sweeping out Macbeth's legs for a sort of modified sidewalk slam. Big heel pop!] TD: Hardin using Macbeth's own momentum against him -- and what a move that was! Macbeth's head just bouncing off the canvas! This is going to be a really physical contest, Steve Roberts. [pause] Steve Roberts? [Hardin immediately begins stomping a mudhole in Macbeth, who rolls to the ropes to avoid the onslaught. D'Amato gamely blocks Hardin's passage towards Macbeth, and to his credit does not back down when Hardin threatens to knock him out of his way -- but by the time Hardin actually throws the punch, D'Amato nimbly dodging out of the way, Macbeth has recovered enough to pull himself, winded, back to his feet -- and he jams a thumb into Hardin's eye! Big pop! Macbeth draws himself back up to his full height, and uses begins hammering away at Hardin's torso with his taped fists, one or two of the blows leaving visible red welts on Hardin's skin. Hardin takes five or six punches before he lets out a yell and charges at Macbeth, striking him down with a clubbing clothesline. Big heel pop!] TD: Oh my! There's the danger Macbeth faces of being in close proximity to the Outlaw in this match -- Hardin's power is at its most effective at close quarters. Macbeth now, rolling out of the ring -- and pulling on Hardin's legs! [As Hardin approached the ropes, Macbeth yanks on Hardin's legs, dropping him to the canvas with quite some impact, before pulling him out of the ring under the bottom rope. Dave D'Amato begins the count as Macbeth blasts a couple of punches into Hardin's rib area, before attempting to whip him into the steel ring steps at one corner -- reversed -- and reversed again! Macbeth sends Hardin flying into the steel ring steps, the "Outlaw" having the presence of mind to take the brunt of the impact with his shoulder, but sending the top half of the steps flying with a *CLANG!*] TD: Smart thinking by the Outlaw to put his shoulder in the way of that blow rather than his head -- but a shot like that is going to separate your shoulder for you. [Macbeth approaches Hardin and drags him to his feet, grabbing him by his right arm, wringing it round, and yanking on it hard, attempting to exacerbate the damage to the shoulder. Macbeth wraps Hardin's arm around the ringpost, and repeatedly lands punches on the upper arm and shoulder area. Hardin lashes out with a boot, and catches Macbeth in the gut, staggering him. Big heel pop! The Outlaw fingers his shoulder and attempts to shake the kinks out of his right arm as he stalks over to Macbeth, D'Amato's count now having reached eight. Hardin shoves an official off his chair, and approaches Macbeth, folding it up and bashing it once or twice on the ringside crowd retaining barriers, almost as if to warn Macbeth. D'Amato quickly leaves the ring and gets inbetween Hardin and the recovering Scotsman, warning Hardin about the use of the chair. This time, however, D'Amato finds himself tossed aside, and Hardin wields the chair above his head -- huge pop!] TD: Oh my! Duncan Macbeth just blasted Hardin with a kick to the gut of his own, and he's got that chair -- he's got that chair, and -- oh my! Right across the shoulder! [The crowd cheer Macbeth on as the Scotsman blasts Hardin with the chair, hitting him bang on that damaged right shoulder... once... twice... three times. Hardin is knocked to his knees as Macbeth approaches once more, the chair raised, ready to strike -- and Hardin brings his left arm up sharply between Macbeth's legs! Huge heel pop as Macbeth staggers backwards!] TD: That's taken the wind out of Macbeth's sails -- but the Scotsman is keeping up with Hardin out there, Steve Roberts! Macbeth isn't intimidated by the "Outlaw", and he's playing him at his own game! [Getting to his feet, Hardin floors Macbeth with a hard clothesline, before beginning to yank on the steel crowd barriers, sending the fans in the front row scattering. Security personnel are quickly on the scene to prevent fans from getting caught in the crossfire as Hardin pulls the crowd barriers down -- on top of Macbeth!] TD: Oh my! Hardin has Macbeth under that steel barrier -- what's he doing? Hardin is going to the ring apron -- oh my! Hardin with an elbowdrop from the apron, right onto that barrier -- he's squashing Macbeth under that barrier like a bug! This is disgusting! [The fans begin to hurl debris at Hardin once more as Dave D'Amato, having recovered sufficiently from being thrown aside by the "Outlaw", attempts to clear the carnage, Hardin rolling off the barriers, his own elbow busted open as a result of the bump. D'Amato, assisted by a couple of security officials, pulls the heavy steel barrier off Macbeth, whose nose has been bloodied from the assault. Hardin wipes the blood running down his arm, and moves back over to the stunned Macbeth, hauling him to his feet and rolling him back into the ring.] TD: Hardin has snapped, Steve Roberts! He has snapped! Macbeth is barely conscious in there -- what a terrible thing to do. Steve Roberts? [Hardin climbs back into the ring, and covers Macbeth. D'Amato, however, is still on the outside righting the security barrier, so Hardin rolls off the Scotsman and back to the outside, grabbing the official by the neck and shoving him roughly back into the ring. D'Amato warns Hardin as the cowboy re-enters the ring, but the "Outlaw" simply snarls at the official to "make the goddamned count" as he covers Macbeth again. D'Amato drops and makes the count: 1 - 2 -- Macbeth kicks out! Huge pop!] TD: Oh my goodness! Duncan Macbeth has kicked out! Incredible! [Hardin shakes his head but does not appear totally surprised as he stands, dragging Macbeth up with him. He slaps the groggy Macbeth around the face a couple of times, taunting him, and prompting the Scotsman to take a wild, unaimed swing in Hardin's general direction with a fist -- but Hardin simply dodges out of the way, and laughingly flicks some of the blood from his right arm in Macbeth's face before grabbing him in a front facelock.] TD: Oh my! Are we going to see the Cattle Buster DDT? [Some hardened Hardin fans in the crowd begin the chant, "DDT! DDT! DDT!" as Hardin stands with Macbeth bent double under his arm -- but before the "Outlaw" can drop Macbeth on his head, the Scotsman rams Hardin in the midsection with his shoulder, forcing him to break the headlock! Huge pop from the crowd as Macbeth drags himself up to his full height -- and blasts the "Outlaw" with a hard clothesline, knocking the big man off his feet!] TD: This is unbelievable, Steve Roberts! What fortitude we are seeing here from Duncan Macbeth! [Macbeth moves as quickly as he is able in order to capitalise on having taken Hardin down, and grabs the cowboy's right arm, wrenching it with all his might, and scissoring his injured shoulder with his powerful legs. Hardin beats the mat with his free arm, cursing the Scotsman. Hardin attempts to roll onto his side to neutralise the hold, but Macbeth rams his boot into Hardin's face whenever it comes into range before returning to the scissor.] TD: What an impressive display by Macbeth here -- coming back after that vicious assualt outside the ring, and having the presence of mind to return to Hardin's weakened right arm. [The fans begin to chant, "Go Duncan Go! Go Duncan Go!" as Macbeth keeps the pressure up on Hardin's arm, attempting to hyper-extend the shoulder. Hardin looks for the ropes with his left arm, and find that he is just unable to reach. Macbeth spots Hardin trying to escape the hold by going for the ropes, and works to drag the "Outlaw" further away from the side of the ring nearest him. D'Amato bends over Hardin to ask him whether he wishes to submit -- and Hardin grabs him by the shirt, pulling him over on top of him and careening into Duncan Macbeth! Big heel pop!] TD: Oh my! Official Dave D'Amato just clashed heads with Duncan Macbeth -- and Macbeth has been forced to break the hold! Hardin will do absolutely anything in there -- he just plain doesn't care! [Hardin drags himself back to his feet, his right arm clearly now giving him significant pain. His forearm is practically painted crimson with the blood flowing from the gash on his elbow, and he appears to have some difficulty moving his arm. His face darkens with anger, and he moves over to where Macbeth is trying to drag himself out from under the stunned official -- and begins laying into him with boots to the head! Hardin is pounding away at Macbeth with hard kicks to the side of the head, to the nose, to the jaw! Macbeth is forced to shield his head with his hands as Hardin continues to wail away with kicks aimed at Macbeth's head!] TD: Oh, this is just sickening, Steve Roberts! Hardin's not just trying to hurt Macbeth in there -- I think he's trying to put him out for good! Blow after blow after blow to Macbeth's head -- nobody can sustain this kind of punishment. The Phoenix still isn't out of hospital after the beating he sustained at the hands of the "Outlaw" two weeks ago -- this is just dreadful. [Hardin finally tires of kicking Macbeth's arms and head, and drags the Scotsman to his feet, flinching with every use of his right arm. He whips Macbeth into the ropes -- and stops him in his tracks with a big boot to the face on the rebound! Huge heel pop as Macbeth arcs to the mat. Hardin himself bounces off the ropes -- and leaps, dropping a leg hard down across Macbeth's throat. Big heel pop! Hardin drags Macbeth to his feet again -- and drops him straight back to the mat with a vicious reverse neckbreaker! The "Outlaw" makes the cover again -- but D'Amato is still in no position to make the count. Hardin, out of frustration, begins to slap the mat himself -- 1 - 2 - and Macbeth gets a shoulder up! Huge pop!] TD: Duncan Macbeth is just running on instinct in there, Steve Roberts! He doesn't know where he is, but he knows that he has to survive! No matter who it is doing the counting, Macbeth won't be put down for the three count! SR: I was put down for the count once. Best weekend of my life. TD: Oh, how nice of you to join us again, Steve Roberts. SR: What are you talking about, Dross? I was talking to Vanessa. TD: Good grief. Hardin now, dragging Macbeth to his feet again -- and locking Macbeth in a full nelson right in the centre of the ring! I don't know how effective this hold is going to be, since Hardin's right arm is clearly giving him problems, but this can be an extremely debilitating hold, even if it isn't properly applied. [Hardin endeavours to wrench Macbeth's shoulders, the Scotsman's face running with blood from his busted nose, while Dave D'Amato begins to stir in one corner of the ring. Suddenly, there is a huge pop as a figure appears in the aisle.] TD: It's Brody Thunder! The IIWF World Heavyweight Champion, Brody Thunder, is coming down the aisle! [Hardin turns, keeping Macbeth locked in the full nelson, and watches as Thuner saunters down the aisle, the IIWF World Heavyweight title belt strapped firmly around his waist. Thunder tips his hat to Hardin as he comes to a halt halfway down the aisle, apparently content to watch the match from an aisleway vantage point. Hardin yells, "I'm the bullet, hoss!" at Thunder -- then suddenly, Macbeth grits his teeth... and breaks the full nelson! Macbeth forces his arms downwards, forcing the Outlaw's fingers to unlock behind his neck -- and Macbeth breaks the hold! Macbeth lashes out with an elbow without even turning around, hitting Hardin in the gut -- and then drops the "Outlaw" with a jawbreaker! Huge, huge pop!] TD: Oh my goodness! Both men are out on the mat here -- Macbeth managing to break that full nelson -- I can only imagine that Hardin's injured arm didn't allow him to apply the hold as effectively as usual. And now both men are down and out! Dave D'Amato begins the count on both men! [The official stands over the motionless forms of Hardin and Macbeth, counting both men out: 1 - 2 - the crowd begins to chant "Go Duncan Go!" once more - 3 - 4 - Macbeth begins to stir! Macbeth begins to move... and so does Hardin, both men rolling to their knees. D'Amato breaks the count, and wisely moves out of the way as Hardin and Macbeth fix one another with their gaze. For the first time in the match, the two athletes tie up collar and elbow, and Macbeth quickly slips Hardin into a hammerlock, working on Hardin's right arm. Hardin nimbly reaches around with his left arm, grabbing Macbeth by the hair, and rolls to the canvas, flipping Macbeth over his back -- still keeping hold of him by the hair! Big heel pop! Hardin drags Macbeth back to his feet, and then ties him up in the ropes, twisting the top two ropes around Macbeth's arms. Hardin bends to taunt Macbeth once more, slapping him around the face with his left hand, before backing up and readying himself to charge.] TD: Oh my! Hardin now, charging across the ring -- and Macbeth manages to free himself! Macbeth frees himself, and Hardin tumbles to the outside over the ropes! Oh my! [Huge pop as Macbeth lies in the ring for a moment, chest heaving, before rolling to the outside, where Hardin is beginning to pull himself to his feet. Right out in front of Chris Quigley and Steve Manning Jr., Macbeth grabs hold of a camera cable running over the mats, and begins to choke Hardin with it, wrapping it two or three times around the cowboy's throat, and pulling as hard as he is able! Hardin fights for breath, eventually forcing Macbeth to release him by biting his opponent's arm! Macbeth grabs at his arm in pain, and blood begins to seep out between his fingers. Hardin, meanwhile, drags himself towards the broadcast table.] TD: Hang on -- why's Hardin coming over here? [Hardin drags himself to his feet in front of the well-endowed Vanessa Del Rio, and grabs the box of roses from her. He presents one of the flowers back to her with a lascivious smile before emptying the contents of the box to the floor in a shower of flowers... and a *CLANG!*] TD: Did one of those flowers just "clang"?! Hang on -- Hardin's got a branding iron! There was a branding iron in that box of flowers -- Macbeth's behind Hardin now... watch out! [Macbeth spins Hardin around -- and gets clobbered upside the head by the branding iron, which Hardin then throws onto the broadcast table. Huge heel pop as Macbeth's eyes seem to roll back in his head, and he slumps to the floor in front of the announcers.] SR: Hardin sure said it with flowers right there, Dross. TD: This is disgusting, Steve Roberts! We've seen everything but the kitchen sink in this match -- but I believe Macbeth may be unconscious after that blow. He may have suffered all kinds of trauma given the amount of punishment Hardin has dished out on Macbeth's head. [Hardin drags Macbeth to his feet and rolls him back into the ring to break Dave D'Amato's count before climbing back to the apron himself. Hardin enters the ring and stands over the motionless form of Macbeth, pointing out into the aisle at Thunder, before dragging the Scotsman to his feet and placing his head between his legs.] TD: What are we going to see here? Hardin hoists Macbeth up with a gutwrench -- it's going to be a powerbomb -- and... oh my! [Huge pop! Huge pop as Macbeth somehow shifts his weight, scissors Hardin's head -- and drops him to the mat with a modified Claymore frankensteiner! Hardin is dropped right on his head by the Claymore!] TD: Oh my goodness! Macbeth hits the Claymore! Cover him, Duncan! Cover him! [Macbeth makes the cover as quickly as he is able, D'Amato dropping to the canvas to make the count: 1 -- 2 -- kickout! Hardin kicks out! The fans give a huge heel pop!] TD: Good heavens! Well, I've credited Duncan Macbeth for his endurance during this match -- but let's take nothing away from Hardin! What stamina we're seeing here from both athletes -- Macbeth didn't really get as much force behind that Claymore as he would usually, but Hardin still did well to kick out. What an unbelievable match! [Macbeth drags Hardin to his feet, and whips the "Outlaw" into the ropes, dropping his head for a spinebuster as Hardin comes back off the ropes towards him -- but Hardin puts on the brakes, grabs Macbeth in a front facelock and... Macbeth drops straight to the mat as quickly as he can, preventing Hardin from hitting the Cattle Buster DDT! Huge, huge pop!] TD: Oh my! Hardin so nearly had Macbeth in the Cattle Buster right there, but the Scotsman had the presence of mind to escape! SR: It's just a matter of time, Dross -- Hardin has Macbeth's number! [Hardin, frustrated, immediately begins stomping on Macbeth's head and upper body once more, before dragging him to his feet and setting him up for a vertical suplex -- blocked! Hardin tries again -- blocked again! Hardin tries a third time -- and this time he gets Macbeth up... but Macbeth shifts his weight in mid-air, and drops safely to his feet behind Hardin! Hardin spins around -- and plants a boot hard into Macbeth's midsection. The Scotsman is bent double and... BAM! Huge heel pop!] TD: Oh my! There it was! Out of nowhere! Out of nowhere, Hardin hits the Cattle Buster DDT! This match is over! SR: Told ya, Dross! I told ya so! [Hardin, exhausted, drops onto the prone form of Macbeth, and Dave D'Amato drops to make the count: 1 -- 2 -- 3! Ding! Ding! Ding! Huge, huge heel pop as "Outlaw Blues" kicks in over the PA once more!] RA: Ladies and gentlemen, here is your winner, as the result of a pinfall... the "Outlaw" J.W. Hardin! [Hardin slowly stands and raises his arms briefly, before moving to the side of the ring nearest the aisle and pointing down at Brody Thunder with his bloody right arm once more, nodding slowly.] TD: Oh my, Steve Roberts! What a match -- and just like last week, when we saw Brody Thunder put Rick Williams' lights out in the blink of an eye with that Cattle Buster, we have seen the originator of that move show us yet again why it is such a dangerous... such a deadly move! SR: You got that right, Dross... and what makes it so dangerous is that it can come from anywhere. It only takes a fraction of a second for Hardin or Thunder to get you bent over, and... BAM! It's lights out time. TD: But what a performance here in this match by Duncan Macbeth. He took everything that Hardin had to throw at him, and gave as good as he got throughout the match. SR: Can't say I noticed, Dross -- too busy with my little bit of wa-wa right here, baby dolls... but Macbeth can go. No doubt about it. And after all, there's no shame in losing to a legend. TD: I'm not sure Macbeth would agree with you, but I dare say we have seen the performance of his young career here tonight -- and that can only mean that Macbeth has a very promising future ahead of him. Hang on -- Chris Quigley is in the ring! [Quigley has indeed slid into the ring under the bottom rope and is bending over the still stunned Macbeth, taunting him. Hardin turns his attention from Thunder in the aisle, and fixes his gaze on Quigley, stalking over to the Intercontinental Champion, who stands and looks at Hardin.] TD: Uh-oh... this could get ugly right here, folks! Hardin is getting in Chris Quigley's face... Oh my! [The crowd explodes as Hardin and Quigley suddenly begin slugging it out in the middle of the ring, punches being thrown by both men, the much bigger Hardin managing to back the IC champ into a corner, and pummelling him with hard shots to the body. The crowd give another huge pop as Thunder, still in the aisle, shrugs as if to say, "Aw, what the hell?" -- and runs to the ring, sliding in under the bottom rope and attacking Hardin from behind! Meanwhile, Macbeth has dragged himself to his feet -- and he begins brawling with Quigley! The crowd are on their feet as all four men slug it out!] TD: Oh, it's all broken loose here, Steve Roberts! This is chaos! [Thunder and Hardin briefly stop throwing punches at one another and turn to see Macbeth and Quigley slugging it out by the ropes. Perhaps as a vestige of their time together as partners, Thunder and Hardin seem to know what the other is thinking without having to say a word -- and the two cowboys charge across the ring, Thunder knocking Macbeth out of the ring, and Hardin dumping Quigley out over the top rope. Macbeth seems to land awkwardly, his right leg buckling under him as he hits the floor, but Quigley lands nimbly on his feet, and immediately begins hammering away at Macbeth once more, the two men brawling up the aisle.] TD: Macbeth may have injured his leg right there -- we have Hardin and Thunder in the ring... they're not throwing punches any more, Steve Roberts. We seem to have a sort of uneasy truce between these two men -- neither one seems to know whether the other is about to turn on him... SR: They're a couple'a low-down, dirty cowboys, Dross. There ain't no such thing as trust in Texas! TD: Perhaps not -- but these two men are nose to nose in the ring right now... and they will be in the ring once more in two weeks' time at Ring Wars IV! We're right out of time here tonight, folks -- what a night it's been... SR: ...and it's only going to get better for the Soundbite -- isn't that so, 'Nessa? VDR: Shoot, Soundbite! Shoot! SR: Whoo-hoo! TD: Good grief. Folks, don't forget to tune into IIWF programming this week to catch all the latest updates on Ring Wars IV -- and we'll be coming back at you live next Saturday Night from Disneyland, in Anaheim, California! Until then, this is Tim Dross, for "Soundbite" Steve Roberts, saying: so long, everybody! [Cut to a close-up shot of Hardin and Thunder standing face to face in the ring, neither man so much as blinking at the other. Fade.] +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= I * I * W * F =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-+ | President: Daniel Spreadbury | Vice-President: Jim Jividen | | univ0322@sable.ox.ac.uk | brokeback@webtv.net | | iiwf@sisko.demon.co.uk | | +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- http://www.sisko.demon.co.uk -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=+