[Fade up on footage of the happiest place on earth, Disneyland, just before dawn, the turrets of the Magic Castle stretching silhouetted into the sky of deep purple. Rapidly, the hue of the horizon changes, the sun rising, a huge ball of fire quickly spreading its oranges and pinks across the sky, drawing glimmers of light from the glass windows of the huge edifice. Over this idyllic scene drifts the song made famous by the Disney empire...] # When you wish upon a star... # [As the sky continues to lighten, footage from the shocking triple-cross of several weeks previously is mixed through, as if "cut out" of their original background. The "Masked Outlaw" drops Requiem with a Cattle Buster DDT... Brody Thunder does likewise... Thunder makes the cover, the referee counts... Thunder holds the belt aloft... The voice of the new IIWF World Heavyweight Champion cuts in, its gravelly tone in almost absurd contrast with the swirling violins of the Disney theme...] BT: A new era begins here tonight. Right now. An era that serves notice on alla y'all... the era o' the Wolf. Ever since I came ta this flamin' fed I been screwed over... by Spreadbury... by     Shakespeare... by Requiem an' his pack o'idjits... by James an'     the Syndicate.    Well... no more.     I told everyone tonight was payback time. Well, I got ya all.     Requiem. Ya never were my equal, runt. I knew it. Now you do. [The footage fades back out, leaving the stillness of the early morning sunrise once more, accompanied by the music:] # Doesn't matter who you are... # [Once again, footage mixes through the scene as if "cut out": this time it is dethroned former champion, Requiem, his face cast in shadows. He speaks:] REQ: But, while _I'm_ remembering _those_ words I'd like _you_ to remember these: "Better to rule in Hell than be ruled in Heaven" Ringing any bells? That's right. They belonged to the _first_ Fallen Angel. His name was Lucifer. I _will_ have my vengeance, Thunder. Against you and everybody who involved themselves in that match. And _I_ will make Lucifer Morningstar seem an amateur by comparison. [Requiem fades from view, the shot now closing in on the Magic Castle as the sun continues to rise behind it. Again, another line of the famous song drifts across the scene:] # When you wish upon a star... # [As the music continues, the image of Brody Thunder standing, the IIWF World Heavyweight Championship belt slung across his right shoulder, fades into view:] BT: Yer still jus' a punk, an' quotin' scripture ain't gonna get the job done. T'get _this_ back... [Thunder grabs the belt from his shoulder and holds up for the camera.] ...yer gonna hafta come down ta that ring an' face me man-ta-man. Alla yer smoke an' mirrors don't mean _squat_. Ya got outsmarted... ya got outclassed... an' ya got outwrestled, big man. [Thunder disappears from view as the shot swings around one of the towers of the castle, the rest of the park unfurling on the ground far below. Another line of the song is heard:] # Your dreams come true... # [Requiem once again appears on the screen, his face darkened with anger. He shouts:] REQ: Brody Thunder? Get your ass into the ring! Spreadbury, you wanna prove your innocence? Book the goddamn match! [As if on cue, the sky seems to darken, and the distant rumble of thunder is heard as the hitherto gentle music suddenly becomes imbued with a rocking techno beat! The opening graphics explode onto the screen:] ________ ______ __ ____ ___ __ . _ ___ | || |\ \ /\ / /| __| / /\ | | || \| \ /\ \ / |\ || / \| | | | || | \ v v / | __| \__ /__\ | | ||__/| |/__\ v | \||| __|-| | |_||_| \_/\_/ |_| \ \| v | \|__/ \| | || \_|| | | __________________________/...hour one...\........|...|.......|....| LIVE! Disneyland, Anaheim, California 1 November 1997 [The shot fades through to a wide-angle view of the ringside area, constructed somewhat haphazardly on a boulevard in a clearing among the flashing lights, whirling rides and towering rollercoasters. The IIWF ring, above which is the traditional lighting rig, is surrounded by temporary bleachers, packed to the limit, seating some two thousand people, while innumerable others mill around the periphery, many lining the cordoned-off makeshift aisleway leading to the resort hotel facility being used as the locker rooms for the evening. The trademark six-foot costumed park workers in the costumes of various Disney characters are seen, many clutching large bunches of balloons in various shapes, and video walls abound on various structures in the vicinity, relaying the footage around the park. Suddenly, the crowd is brought to life by a huge volley of pyrotechnics shooting into the sky! Coloured sparks rain down on the fans as the rockets vanish high into the air before exploding in brilliant hues. Over these scenes comes the voice of Tim Dross:] TD: Welcome everybody to the happiest place on earth! Welcome everybody to Disneyland in Anaheim, California! Welcome to the _final_ stop on the Road to Ring Wars IV! Welcome everybody to IIWF Saturday Night! [Cut to a montage of shots, depicting the fans waving their signs, wearing their merchandise, and also swinging around the nearby rides -- the teacup ride, a carousel, Thunder Mountain can be seen rumbling away in the distance, the blinking lights now beginning to pierce the darkening evening sky. Eventually, the shot cuts to the broadcast table in the ringside area, at which stand Tim Dross, wearing his regulation IIWF blazer and a Mickey Mouse tie, and "Soundbite" Steve Roberts, wearing his traditional leather jacket over a t-shirt which reads, "Seven Days, Baby Dolls!" -- and the duo are also accompanied by a six-foot Donald Duck.] TD: Howdy, folks, and welcome to another two hours of incredible IIWF action, _live_ from Disneyland! I'm Tim Dross, and beside me, as always, is my broadcast colleague and tag team partner, "Soundbite" Steve Roberts. We are now just _seven_ days away from one of the biggest pay-per-view events of the year, Ring Wars IV, and tonight we will see many of the superstars who will next Saturday night go out in front of more than one hundred thousand fans for... SR: [interrupting] Whoa, buddy, back up a little. I got something to ask you, Dross. TD: Go ahead, Steve Roberts. SR: [hooking a thumb at Donald Duck] Are we gonna have to put up with these fur fabric covered, sweaty, child-molesting freaks all night? [Donald Duck cheerfully waves at Steve Roberts, emitting a trademark "quack."] TD: We're indebted to the staff and management of Disneyland to allow us to even broadcast from the park, Steve Roberts. The least we can do is welcome their employees here at ringside. SR: Nah, Dross -- I don't think you dig, brother. This costumed cretin is leaving. Right, morons? [Steve Roberts signals to the usual gang of inebriated "L'il Soundbiters", congregated in the bleachers behind the commentary table as usual, who grab the unsuspecting six-foot duck and haul him, kicking and screaming, over the crowd barriers and into the crowd, where poor Donald becomes an unwitting crowd-surfer. Security descend on the incident quickly, while Roberts cracks a broad grin.] SR: Cool. TD: Good grief. Well, folks, what a tremendous show we have lined up over the next couple of hours. As you saw at the very top of the show, tonight is the night that Requiem, who feels he was robbed of the World title some four weeks ago, finally gets his rematch against the "Lone Wolf" Brody Thunder. With both Thunder's nemesis, Hall of Famer, the "Outlaw" J.W. Hardin -- from whom, incidentally, we will be hearing a little later on tonight -- and the man determined to plague Requiem, the Blind Guardian, both on hand here this week, who knows what we are going to see in that match? SR: I'll tell you what we're going to see, Dross -- that over-gimmicked, over-sized piece of albino trash Cattle Bustered back to the Paleolithic age. Whether it's Thunder or Hardin who sends him packing is little odds to the Soundbite, baby dolls -- but I hope Requiem's remembered to put his affairs in order. Gotta make sure his collection of Wings forty-fives goes to a good, loving home. TD: Wings? Good grief. We've also got a huge champion vs. champion match scheduled for our second hour, as Intercontinental Champion Chris Quigley meets Cruiserweight Champion Derek Mota. Quigley has been campaigning -- unsuccessfully, I might add -- for this match to be made a title match -- he seems desperate to match the punishing schedule of his opponent next week, one Duncan Macbeth, blow for blow. SR: Aw yeah, Dross, Quigley thinks he's such a tough guy now he's got some paraplegic wheeling himself around, running his mouth about this and that. Truth of the matter is, Dross, that the only way one could describe ol' Chrissie as tough is if he loaded up that purse of his with a brick. TD: Please, Steve Roberts. There certainly seems to be an element of both Quigley and Macbeth trying to prove to the other that they are truly at the top of their games... with the upshot being that both have pursued extremely demanding schedules in the weeks leading up to next Saturday's match. Here tonight, Duncan Macbeth also figures in a dangerous match -- he'll be one of the combatants in that big Four Corners contest, going up against Marty Warnett, Tony Starks, and Otto Verhoeven. SR: And that cry-baby Byron is in the house, Dross! From what I hear, Lord Byron is here to campaign for his reinstatement in person. TD: Indeed, Steve Roberts, reports from the front office state that the IIWF President refused to meet with Lord Byron this week, apparently holding to his statement issued last Saturday Night that the terms of Byron's no-compete contract are non-negotiable. SR: I don't see nothing wrong with Byron being reinstated for a one time deal, Dross -- give the Butcher a chance to finish the job, I say! TD: Certainly I doubt that a decision to reinstate Lord Byron would unduly upset the Teutonic Terror, Otto Verhoeven, who has really been on a tear as of late -- but I do not believe that the IIWF officials are ready to back down on this issue. Another competitor in that Four Way dance is the increasingly cold and vicious Tony Starks, who will next week go up against his rival Ike Sampson -- who tonight meets Billy Shakespeare one-on-one a little later on -- in a Submission Match. I would expect to see both Starks and Sampson put on impressive displays in their matches tonight, Steve Roberts. SR: Whatever, Dross. What I want to see is the former Genesis bitches slapping the snot out of one another! TD: We may indeed get the opportunity to see former stablemates Serge Annis, Scott Rogers and the Highwayman battle it out tonight -- although Rogers and Highwayman will be on the same side, facing the team of Annis, and the Subway Psycho. There's no love lost between either of these two teams, Steve Roberts. SR: Aw, it's gonna be a great brawl, Dross. Four guys -- well, three guys and an undead caveman wrestler... no, scratch that, two guys, an undead caveman wrestler and a steroid with feet... no, scratch that, one guy, an undead caveman wrestler, a steroid with feet, and a has-been... TD: Yes, Steve Roberts, we get the message. Of course, Serge Annis and the Subway Psycho will be part of that first ever Barbed Wire elimination match at Ring Wars IV, while Scott Rogers and the Highwayman will be on opposing teams in a tag team match also featuring Dakota Bundy and Richard "Moxy" Blue. In fact, the story of this evening could well be that of the intriguing partnerships we will see. SR: What's with the bookers, Dross? We got guys teaming up tonight who'd rather be beating the snot out of one another, and guys on opposing teams who'll be wrestling on the _same_ team next week... it's just crazy! TD: Indeed, certainly there are some very interesting partnerships to be seen in tonight's matches. We'll see the IIWF World Tag Team Champions, the Cold Quins, team up with their opponents in next week's title match -- who also happen to be their original partners -- now christened Harle-Spell... SR: Potato Famine. TD: ...to face Licensed for Devastation and the Natural Predators, who will also be teaming up next Saturday night in the eight man tag team match that will kick off the Ring Wars IV spectacular -- their opponents being the team of the Machines and the Down Boys, who tonight, confusingly, will be on _opposite_ sides in six-man tag action, the Machines being partnered by fellow Cleveland native, Luke Steele, and the Down Boys by a mystery partner. SR: I know who it is, Dross! TD: You do not, Steve Roberts. SR: I do too. TD: Do we have to go through this every single week? SR: Sure we do. Ask me to tell you who the mystery guy is. TD: Who's the mystery partner, Steve Roberts? SR: Damned if I know, Dross. TD: Fine. Don't forget that we'll also see the final of that Cruiserweight Contenders Tournament, pitting Ronnie Paris against the man whom he beat in the very first round, Timothy N. Turner, who slid back into the brackets after a crazy, crazy turn of events last Saturday Night. But before we get to the action in the ring, let's hear from Damage Inc., who will next Saturday night go up against the Prophets of Rage in a Bragging Rights match. SR: Let's get it ooooon, Dross. TD: Indeed. Here come Eddy Ramos and Alex Porteaux, along with Jeandra! [The camera shifts to a shot of Alex Porteaux, Eddy Ramos and Jeandra walking out of the entrance to the ring, carrying their own mics. The three are dressed alike, all wearing black New Orleans Saints jerseys that are personalized -- "JEANDRA - 69," "PORTEAUX - 1," "RAMOS - 346" -- and blue jeans. Jeandra is wearing shades also while Ramos follows her, looking as if he had just committed murder but just wasn't satisfied. Porteaux pulls his mic up and gives the crowd a one-finger salute before he speaks.] AP: WHAT THE IS UP?! We can be in Mickey Mouse country but I'm still gonna come up in here talking a whole bunch of , and more . But let's talk about something for a second... let's talk about a dark dark day... in wrestling history. A day that's been prophecised since day ONE! The day the Prophets themselves meet their match... and especially the fact that it will NEVER happen! Let's talk about the fact that the Rage brothers saw the future... SAW the fact that they were headed to the most HUMILIATING and EMBARRASSING loss of their careers... AGAINST US... and couldn't even decide who was gonna take the pinfall. So what did they do? They replaced one guy... with a drunken BUM who swears he's popular. Does that sound like the best tag team of 1997? Does that sound like a squad WORTHY of that distinction? ["The Death March" plays over the PA system as the curtains part.  The crowd begins to pop as the Prophets of Rage step out, scowling at the fans and at Damage Incorporated.  They carry their own microphones.  Pizzazz follows behind them, smoke curling up from her cigarette.  Derek strides methodically towards the ring.  Dirt Dog Unique shuffles behind him slightly, looking around with his shifty eyes.  He glowers.] DR: [lifting his mic to his lips] Oh, that was a very pretty speech.  Eddy, Alex, Je, the three of y'all got some real pretty words.  But just remember something.  Ring Wars isn't a debating competition.  The prettiest talker doesn't get the match.  Remember that.  And even if it was, you two thugs can't match my excellence of elocution and the spontaneous parables of the Dirt Dog. [Derek steps right up to the three.] DR: In fact, let's just drop the promotional aspect for a moment and get something cleared up right now.  Because I'm sure all the people out there want to hear the real ish that's brewing between you and us. [Derek stabs a finger into Eddy Ramos' chest.  Ramos stares at it and sneers at the big man.] DR: See, and correct me if I got anything wrong, but this goes way back into the FWLI -- now known as the IFWF -- a fine federation once you're established, but kind of hard on newcomers to get matches.  You had two teams.  One a fierce up and comer.  A team that blazed to championship glory faster than anyone else ever had at that time.  That was the Prophets of Rage. [The crowd whoops as DDUA hypes them, waving his arms in the air and crossing them over his chest as he swaggers around the ring, demanding the crowd's love each time.  The Dirty Doggies whoop and holler.  Pizzazz drapes herself across the top rope, inching the hem of dress up past her thigh.  The crowd gets even hotter.] DR: And then there were the supposed Kingpins, the team that would take on anybody.  That was you.  Well, we challenged you.  We called you out.  You remember.  We pledged a long time ago that you would die in darkness. DDUA: Yeah, I wanna see me somebody who done died in darkness.  I mean I bet it ain't nuttin' like dyin' in light, is it, muhfuhs? CROWD: YEAHHHH!! DR: [smiling] But we never got the chance, did we? No -- because you ran out of the promotion.  You flat out up and quit.  Gone and forgotten.  The supposed best team of 1996 and y'all were memories best forgotten after two humiliating defeats at the hands of the Players' Club, the team we destroyed in our rise to greatness. DDUA: Players' Club?  I remember those muhfuhs!  They got they asses whipped here, in the TOWL, in the IFWF.  They ain't nuthin' but some mess, man.  DR: And these two couldn't beat them... TWICE! [Derek holds two fingers up high.  DDUA goggles.  He and Derek look at each other and do the slack-jawed double-take.  DDUA rushes up to the two.] DDUA: What, y'all couldn't beat those muhfuhs... TWICE?  Man, which bathroom do you use?  Alex, let me ask you.  Do you pee standin' up?  [DDUA gets right in his face as he waggles his head.] DDUA: Oh, I can't wait to bust yo asses in the ring.  This gon' be so good.  It gon be better than Jeandra's coochie I bet.  But that ain't hard, is it?  Y'all all got crabs as far as I can see and y'all don't even live by no beach.  You's some dirty muhfuhs. DR: Oh, that's right, they are.  And they're going to be some busted muhfuhs, too, Dirt.  Ring Wars, I'm gonna personally tear you apart.  Why?  Because you two think you can just come in here, whisper in Spreadbury's ear and get a slew matches against the Prophets of Rage?  You think you deserve to just step back into that spotlight and be the new gins in town.  You may have captured somebody's imagination, but gentlemen, you'll never have my respect.  And before I let my pertner or me lay down for some punks like you, I'll see you in HELL! [Derek hurls his microphone at Eddy Ramos and lunges at him at the same time Dirt Dog and Pizzazz lunge at Alex and Jeandra. The six scrap for a few seconds before they split up suddenly.] JE: Aiight... we've heard all the talk about how we left FWLI and how we retired and how we lost to TPC. Have we ever said we're invincible? Have we ever claimed to be Angels of Destruction and Death? [laughs] No, we KNOW we're human... we're not disillusioned... disillusioned by the fact that this is just some COPY... a weak ass PHOTOCOPY of the Prophets of Rage... you complain about missing out our matches in FWLI... you complain about us leaving then... WHERE THE HELL ARE THE PROPHETS NOW?! Obviously, they couldn't withstand the pain... the mere THOUGHT of losing to DI... it would kill their rep... "the best". [laughs] Who couldn't beat the best. We're not walking into the spotlight any more, boys... we're just here to kick your lousy asses out. It's only too bad that your brother's not here, Derek. It's much too bad... because WHOMEVER the two of you came from... we intend to put you right back in... and as for seeing us in hell... ready to go?! [The six start brawling once again, pairing off as Allah locks up with Porteaux, Ramos with Rage and Pizzazz and Jeandra give the fans quite a show and they kick and punch their way out the ring. The action spills to the floor where the Dirt Dog actually manages to lay a few shots in on Porteaux. Derek Rage comes over to double team and the two nail a POWERFUL double delayed suplex on the concrete. As the Prophets jeer at the crowd and at Porteaux's fallen body, Ramos sneaks the both of them from behind and levels them with clotheslines. He goes back as the other three rise and start to brawl again, but returns with a steel chair and DESTROYS it on Unique Allah's cranium. Meanwhile the camera shifts upwards to the ring where Pizzazz and Jeandra have returned, and the two are balanced on the top rope hitting each other with fists that their male counterparts can't seem to emulate in fury. They grab each other like hockey players would, and CRASH themselves from the top rope onto a ringside table, shattering it pieces. What's stunning is, as they allow the pain of the fall to sink in, they immediately pop up and start it all over again. On the opposite side, Ramos has begun PUMMELLING the Dirt Dog screaming "WHO'S THE DOG?! WHO'S THE DOG?!" while Derek Rage has a chair and is not too afraid to introduce it to the hide of Alex Porteaux's back.] TD: Oh my! Some wild, wild scenes here, Steve Roberts! SR: Hey, they spilt my coffee, Dross! Damn them all. Except the girls. Hey, girls, you wanna wrestle over here? [Security descend on the brawl, around a dozen uniformed guards attempting to pull the warring factions away from one another. After many attempts, they finally succeed, and the Prophets are dragged away, closely followed by Damage Inc.] TD: I think order has been restored here, Steve Roberts -- but what intensity between these two teams! SR: Who woulda thunk it, Dross? A bunch of tag teams actually doing something interesting! TD: That's unfair, Steve Roberts -- we have some of the finest tag teams in the world today working in the IIWF, and... oh my! SR: They're going at it again! Whoo-hoo! [The crowd erupt once more as the Prophets and Damage Inc. break free of their captors, the brawl quickly spilling over the crowd barriers and into the area behind the bleachers. The Dirt Dog finds himself slammed onto the grilled metal flooring of the teacup ride -- and then backdrops the charging Porteaux into one of the cups! The ride starts to spin, the cups rotating slowly, gradually increasing in speed... Porteaux yells for the ride to be shut off, while the Dirt Dog groggily stands, and watches as the ride spins before his eyes. He appears to grow giddy, and slumps down once more. Meanwhile, Ramos and Derek Rage brawl around a nearby concession stand, Rage being barrelled into a loitering Goofy by a shouldercharge from Ramos, sending the costumed character flying. Pizzazz and Jeandra continue to go at it, a circle of males in their thirties and forties surrounding their fight, while their young children, alarmed by the violence, tug fruitlessly at their agape fathers' trouser legs. Security once again descends on the brawl, and order seems to be restored again. Cut back to the broadcast table at ringside.] TD: Well, I don't know quite what to say, Steve Roberts. SR: How about, "Holy guacamole, those girls sure know how to light my fire," Dross? TD: Not exactly what I had in mind. It seems these two teams will be difficult to keep apart here tonight -- but we really must get up to the ring for our opening encounter. Let's go up to Sparkplug for the introductions. ________ ______ | || |\ \ /\ / /| __|.................................................. | || | \ v v / | __| The Down Boys & Mystery Partner vs. |_||_| \_/\_/ |_| The Machines & "Real Deal" Luke Steele ....................................................................... WRITER: MB [As the crowd begins to settle after the excitement of the preceding brawl, Sparkplug Lee walks down the aisle towards the ring.  He gets about halfway before spotting a lifesize Mickey Mouse in the crowd, and goes over to shake hands with it.  Mickey holds his hand out, and then brushes it back before Sparkplug can get a hold of it. The giant mouse takes his mask off, revealing himself to be the Smooth!] SR: Look at that, Dross!  The Smooth made the trip! TD: Has the whole world gone crazy?  Mickey Mouse has an attitude? SR: No Dross, open your eyes.  It's the Smooth! [Sparkplug, his face good and red now, steps through the ropes and pulls out his cue cards, shuffling them until he hits the right match.] SL: Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the Happiest Place on Earth, for another great night of wrestling action that can only be brought to you by the IIWF! [Moderate crowd pop, some are still laughing at the ring announcer's misfortune] This first match is a special six man tag team match.  Introducing first, at a total combined weight of 778 pounds... The Team of Simon O'Neal and Paul Wong, the Machines... And the "Real Deal" Luke Steele! ["Black Cat" begins to pound out of the PA system set up around the grounds, and the crowd starts to give a heel pop for the triple threat. Luke walks out first, wearing plain black full length tights, with "RD" on one leg, and on the other "LS", both written in silver.  He's also wearing a black t-shirt that reads "Beware the Steele Machine!".  The Machines walk out right after Steele, Paul Wong sporting his standard black trunks to knees, and a black jacket with "The Machines" emblazoned on the back.  His outfit is topped off with a grey fedora and a pair of black sunglasses, and Wong tries to hi-five some fans.  They seem reluctant to at first, given his alliance with Simon and Luke, but then eventually do hi-five back. Simon wears the same exact outfit, except for his trademark black glove on the left hand.  All three men climb into the ring, awaiting the Down Boys and their third man.] SL: And their opponents... ["Down Boys" by Warrant cuts off "Black Cat", and the crowd bursts into cheers] At a total combined weight of 457 pounds, led to the ring by Awesome T, the team of "Dazzling" Dan Oliver and "Superstud" Adam Peterson...  THE DOWN BOYS! [The entire crowd lets loose with an enourmous pop, as the Down Boys contingent makes their way down the aisle to the ring, each man taking a side of the aisleway to tag the fans.  Awesome T walks behind them, supporting his guys and even shaking a few hands himself.  The Boys are a vision of the 80's as always, with "Up all night..." airbrushed on the ass of Adam Peterson's lime green tights, and "...sleep all day!" airbrushed on the ass of Dan Oliver's day-glo orange tights, resurrecting memories of Slaughter's first hit.  They step through the ropes, while the Machines and Steele are left to wonder about the third man.  They aren't left to wonder for long, because Sparkplug continues.] SL: And finally, their partner, from Las Vegas, Nevada, and weighing in at 228 pounds... ALEX RIO! ["I'm Too Sexy" by Right Said Fred blasts over the speakers as Alex Rio emerges from the curtains.  He has short bleached blonde hair with sideburns and a small beard on his chin.  He's wearing an M.C. Hammer half shirt along with a pair of Daisy Dukes.  Behind him, Casey C and the Barnacle Brothers follow.  Casey C is wearing a Prodigy t-shirt along with some ripped up jeans and a bandana around his head.  The Barnacle Brothers are wearing tuxedos a few sizes too small for them.  They all head down to the ring and enter it.] AR: All the buzz around the wrestling world for the past week has been, "Who is the Down Boys' partner?"  "Is it J.W. Hardin?"  Nope.  "Is it Dan Kauffman?"  Nope.  Would the Down Boys disappoint you people like that?  I don't think so.  They went out and got The _REAL_ Real Deal. [smiles] But, before I go into this match with my compadres, I have something to say.     Everybody knows that I'm a stud and I could have any women that I wanted in this whole arena tonight.  And, what's her name, Becky LaRue from that one show, you know... she has an adult fan club. Now, Becky, I was just wondering... is there a more advanced state of that fan club?  I could just slip you a few extra bucks and we could go back to my hotel room and, you know... [Not willing to wait for Alex Rio to finish, Luke Steele pays him back for that crack about being the real "Real Deal" by spinning him around and clocking him with an uppercut to the jaw.  The Down Boys and Machines also start to brawl, Paul Wong going after Adam Peterson, and Dan Oliver trading punches with Simon O'Neal.] TD: We're off to the races here at Disneyland! SR: Gee Dross, that's great.  Wake me when it's over.  The "Man in Teal" Luke Steele and the Machines don't exactly constitute a great match. And of course those 80's throwbacks are nothing more than a reminder of one horrible decade. [The referee manages to gain a little control in the match, sending the two regular tag teams back to their proper corners and allowing Steele and Rio to continue their fight.  Luke grabs Rio and whips him into the ropes, and jumps into the air, catching Rio with a knee to the face on his way back. Rio hits the mat, and Luke goes for the cover, only to be kicked off forcefully.  Rio rolls to his knees and begins to beg for forgiveness, but unfortunately for him Luke's not in a giving mood.  A kick to the face knocks Rio down, and Luke tags out quickly to Simon O'Neal, who grabs Rio in an armwringer, then works him to the mat in a submission type hold.  Dan Oliver stretches into the ring trying to get the tag, but Rio's nowhere close enough to attempt it.  O'Neal pulls Rio to his feet by the hair, only to yank him right off his feet the same way, and continues to lock his arm in a painful position.] TD: Alex Rio's been less than succesful so far, first against Luke Steele and now having his problems with Simon O'Neal. SR: But he's a great dancer, Dross. TD: This isn't Soul Train, Steve. SR: You're dating yourself, Dross.  I'm not surprised though, no-one else'll date ya! [Alex Rio works his way back to his feet again, and this time throws Simon O'Neal off, and slaps him full in the face.  Simon goes right for Rio's throat, but the arrogant one leans out the ropes, forcing the referee to keep Simon away.  Rio tags out to Dan Oliver, who rushes into the ring and starts to pound away on Simon's back.  O'Neal takes an irish whip in for the ride and then hits his face on the mat following a drop step toehold into a leglock.  Oliver lets go and mounts the ropes, waiting for O'Neal to get up and then takes him right back down with a flying dropkick to the face.  Oliver grabs O'Neal and executes a snap suplex, placing him in front of the turnbuckles and climbs again.  He comes down in a moonsault legdrop, then grabs O'Neal and puts him in a camel clutch.] TD: The Down Boys now going for the submission- Luke Steele with the save!  He kicked Oliver in the face, from the ring apron. SR: Steele must have been taking lessons from Scott Rogers on how to cheat and still bore the crowd. [Dan Oliver gets back to his feet, holds O'Neal up by the hair, and then viciously dropkicks his knee out from under him.  Oliver drags O'Neal to the corner and tags out to Adam Peterson, who launches over the top rope in a somersault legdrop onto the oustretched knee of O'Neal.  He immediately puts on a figure four leglock, but O'Neal is too close to the ropes for it to have any lasting effects.  Peterson exits the ring and stands on the apron, waiting as Simon O'Neal again picks himself up off the mat. Peterson leaps, using the ropes to springboard into a flying shoulderblock, which sends O'Neal to the mat, rolling right over onto his head and then laying on his stomach.  Peterson executes a baseball slide in the middle of the ring, catching the top of O'Neal's head, then rolls him over and covers.] TD: There's the count! One... two... kickout!  Simon O'Neal's taken quite a beating thus far.  I think the Down Boys are singling him out on purpose. SR: Gee Dross, why would that be?  He only threw a fireball at one of them. [Alex Rio begs for Adam Peterson to tag out to him, and reluctantly the Down Boy does.  The crowd boos when Rio gets into the ring, and he tries to drop an elbow onto O'Neal, but misses severely.  Simon manages to roll all the way to the corner, and Paul Wong enters the fray, catching Rio with a bearhug into a belly-to-belly suplex.  Rio lays on the mat, and Paul drops a leg across his throat, then drags him over to the Machines corner and holds him up in a full nelson after tagging in Luke Steele.  Steele steps through the ropes and goes to work on Rio with punch after punch, staggering Rio.  Wong exits, and Luke picks Rio up over his head and drops him headfirst onto the top turnbuckle.] TD: This is one of the few times we've seen Luke Steele totally outpower his foe.  He just picked Rio up like a benchpress! SR: When Luke Steele wins a strongman contest, I'll officially retire from the sport of wrestling. TD: I thought you were retired. SR: Not this type of wrestling, Dross.  Mud wrestling.  Speaking of which, the magical kingdom is set to play host to yours truly against Belle and Ariel in a special triangle jello wrestling contest later tonight. TD: You're incorrigible. SR: You're jealous. [Steele picks Rio up and plants him with a side suplex, then hooks a leg for the pin attempt.  Rio kicks out and tries to scurry to the ropes, but is stopped when he sees the Machines standing right by those ropes.  Luke grabs him by the hair and puts him into position for the Revenge Driver, only to see a few friends climb out of the stands.] TD: Look, it's Licensed For Devastation! SR: Look, it's _so_ predictable! Remind me, who are these guys? [Steele drops Rio as LFD climbs over the ring barrier, Chaos going for Steele as his partner Starr keeps coming, but not nearly as quick as Chaos. Paul Wong and Simon O'Neal drop off the ring apron and pull three things out from under the ring, then hold them up while tossing one to Luke.] TD: BASEBALL BATS! SR: You like baseball, don'cha, Dross? TD: Yes, but not when the targets are people's heads! SR: Pansy ass. [Steele grabs the bat just as Chaos swings the chair at him, able to block it and hold him back.  Starr goes around the ring after O'Neal and Wong, but is eventually overmatched and drops the chair.  Wong drops his bat too and begins to trade fists with Starr, as Simon climbs to the top rope and tries to jump off, onto Chaos' back.  Chaos sees him and spins around, plastering Simon with the chair as Luke takes him off his feet with a baseball bat to the back of the leg.  Through all this, both members of the Down Boys look as if not sure whether to help the Machines or not.  Their third man, Alex Rio, tries to sway them to leave, and they eventually do, leaving LFD, the Machines and Luke Steele to battle it out amongst themselves.] TD: The Down Boys are leaving the Machines, who they will team up with at Ring Wars, high and dry! SR: They get busted open any more and they won't be dry for long. [Steele pounds away on Chaos after the diversionary tactic -- some would call it sacrifice -- by Simon O'Neal, while outside the ring Paul Wong and Starr go at it again with their respective weapons.  Officials and the JJS run out from the back and separate the five men, but not before a couple are taken down with errant bat and chair shots.  After all of this is finally over, Sparkplug Lee gets on the mic.] SL: Ladies and gentlemen, here are your winners as a result of a countout... THE DOWN BOYS, AND ALEX RIO! [Security guards appear again to assist the official in getting the various wrestlers safely back to the hotel that serves as the locker room, while the members of the Jobber Justice Squad look around furtively. Ned Norton gives his compatriots the all clear, and he, along with the Rotundos and El Super Gecko, run through their usual dance act, this time joined partway through by a battered but unbowed Donald Duck.] SR: Aw, would you look at that, Dross? The duck finally found some friends! TD: Security are having a busy night already here, Steve Roberts, and I would suggest that this will continue to be the case. It's all heating up for Ring Wars IV, folks -- just seven days away! Make that call to your local cable operator right now! SR: You're such a shill, Dross. TD: Don't sound so bored, Steve.  We're at the happiest place on earth! SR: No, the happiest place on earth is without a doubt Bronco Billy's Beer and Babes, down in Texas.  Dross, I could tell you stories of     the sheer debauchery and drunkenness... [Dross quickly cuts Roberts off as a mother is seen to clap her hands over her young child's ears in the background.] TD: [hurriedly] Let's get to the ring where Sparky's ready with the     next match! ________ ______ | || |\ \ /\ / /| __|.................................................. | || | \ v v / | __| Cold Quins & Harle-Spell vs. |_||_| \_/\_/ |_| Licensed for Devastation & Natural Predators ....................................................................... WRITER: RR [Scene cuts to the ring, where Sparkplug Lee is wearing a Goofy hat and making "Nhyuk nhyuk" noises.  He stops himself when he sees the camera on him, and begins reading the announcements.] RA: Ladies and gentlemen, this next match is scheduled for one fall!     Introducing first, Reggie Star and Johnathan Chaos, the team of     Licensed for Devastation, and Bear and the Grey Phoenix, the team     of the Natural Predators! [311's "Down" plays out over the loudspeakers, mercifully drowning out the insipid sounds of "It's a Small World" in the background.  The members of Licensed for Devastation stride through the crowd, with the Natural Predators tailing behind them, talking amongst themselves. They climb into the ring, looking out over the hordes of people, and wait for their opponents.] RA: And their opponents, half of whom are the IIWF tag team champions,     and the other half are... um... their normal partners... The     Harlequins and Cold Spell, or Harle-Spell and the Cold Quins! ["Down" is slowly replaced by "The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald" as all four men stride out, accompanied by Comedy and Melody.  They jump into the ring and quickly mount the corners, playing to the crowd in all directions.  They finally dismount as their music and the cheers die down, and huddle to see who will start for their team.  Finally, Chaos emerges, his leg heavily braced, and stands near the center of the ring, while Bear of the Predators emerges for his side.  The bell rings, and the match begins!] TD: And both teams have opted to start off with their bigger men. What do you think of this, Steve? SR: I think paying four dollars for a hot dog is nuts.  I think men     running around in large rodent outfits should not be allowed to     breed.  I think... TD: I meant about the match. SR: I think I'll go to sleep now. [Bear and Chaos lock up in a collar-and-elbow tie-up, with Bear getting the quick advantage after a knee to Chaos' gut.  He follows this with a succession of forearms to the small of Chaos' back, driving the Harlequin to a knee, then picks him up and backs him into a corner.  Chaos blocks the next forearm, however, and fires back with one of his own, and soon enough both men are trading hard shots in the corner.  Finally, Chaos manages to duck a swing, spin behind Bear, and slams his head into the top turnbuckle, staggering the Predator long enough to follow this up with a back suplex that leaves him sprawled out on the mat.] TD: Some hard hitting moves there by both men, but ultimately Harlequin Chaos came out on top. SR: Ah, for the days of Bronco Billy's... TD: Pay attention, Steve. [Chaos picks Bear up by the back of the neck, and whips him across to the far side.  On the return, Bear manages to tag to his partner, who slingshots himself over the top rope and dropkicks the Harlequin member.  Chaos goes down, and Grey Phoenix covers, hooking the leg but getting tossed off at the two count.  Phoenix and Bear both pick Chaos up, then send him back down to the mat with a double Russian leg sweep as Licensed for Devastation both talk idly in their corner, watching their partners work over their opponent.  A vaguely amused look comes to their faces as Tragedy now vaults to the top turnbuckle, then flies off at both Predators with a double clothesline, creating a four-man pile in the center of the ring.  LFD shrugs and steps through the ropes, laying into the Harlequins, their attack finally stopped when Icehawk and Fitz finally give up on the concept of a decent match, and join the fray.] TD: And we have an eight-man pier six in the center of the ring! SR: [waking up suddenly] Huh?  Brawl?  WHERE?! TD: In the ring, Steve.  You'd have seen it if you were awake. SR: All right, now THIS is what's supposed to be happening in the happiest place on earth.  Blood, brawls, and babes. TD: Babes? SR: Okay, two out of three ain't bad. Bring back Jeandra and Pizzazz! [The referee has totally lost control at this point, and is desperately trying to get the men back to their correct corners. Tragedy and Chaos are happily going head to head with the Predators, with Chaos' kneebrace doubling over the Grey Phoenix.  Reggie Starr and Icehawk both go to opposite corners, neither seeing the other, and sail off... with Icehawk tristing in the air and nailing the airborne Star with a dropkick, and sending him rolling out to the floor outside!] SR: Whoa!  Airborne collision there. TD: It seems that all the stops have been pulled here, Steve Roberts!     These teams are going at each other with incredible intensity! [Indeed, Dross is right.  Johnathan Chaos rolls out as well as he sees his partner struck down from above, and checks to see if he's okay. Making motions to the back, he helps Starr to his feet, and both members of LFD walk off, leaving the Predators staring open-mouthed at their former partners.] SR: Yeah, baby!  Ya' don't need those freaks to get ahead... there's     enough people wandering around here making believe they're animals     anyway. TD: Licenced for Devastation has left the match!  Their partners, who     they will be wrestling with at Ring Wars, are still in shock from     this!  What's going on here? SR: I'll tell ya, Dross.  LFD knew when they got stuck with a buncha     losers, so they cut their losses.  Bailed.  Left.  Went to ride     the Matterhorn.  Goin' to see if Snow White REALLY shacked up with     those seven midgets. [In the ring, the six men stare after LFD for a moment longer, then all turn to face each other.  Chaos turns to Icehawk and Fitzgerald, readying his fist in a "rock-paper-scissors" motion to see who will start off again, and has just struck "Rock" when Tragedy, who wasn't having anything to do with it, leaps towards Grey Phoenix with a superkick that catches him right under the jaw and lifts him off the mat.  Chaos wheels as Cold Spell looks momentarily surprised, then exit the ring as Tragedy lifts Phoenix up and drags him over to their corner, tagging Fitzgerald in.  Shaking his head slowly, Fitzgerald climbs between the ropes, whips Phoenix across the ring, and plants him into the mat with a thunderous powerslam.  He hops up quickly and tags over to Icehawk, who slingshots himself up and over towards his parter.  Fitzgerald catches him in mid flight and, with an impressive display of power, tosses him straight up in the air, and landing him on Phoenix.  The referee runs back over and slides to make the count: one... two... and three!] TD: He got him! SR: Told you LFD was smart to leave those losers. TD: The Natural Predators aren't losers, Steve. SR: Oh, really?  Who got the three-count then? TD: Well... let's get the official word from Sparkplug. RA: Ladies and gentlemen, the winners of this match... COLD SPELL and     the HARLEQUINS! [Fitzgerald and Icehawk exchange a high-five as Bear pulls his partner from the ring, while the Harlequins are met in the ring by their valets.  Tragedy and Chaos also high-five, then turn to high-five Cold Spell... and suddenly Chaos lurches forward, slamming his leg brace into Fitzgerald's gut, while Tragedy spins aroundand catches Icehawk in the jaw with a spinning kick that sends him sprawling!] TD: What in the wide, wide world of Disney...? SR: Whoo-hoo!  The clowns pulled a backstab of their own! [Tragedy spins again, bringing an axe-kick down onto the back of Fitzgerald's head, leaving him laid out as well.  Comedy tosses the tag belts into the ring, and Tragedy lays them out nicely on the ring mat while Chaos steps in front of the referee to stop him from interfering.  Tragedy then picks up both members of Cold Spell, hooks both of them into headlocks... and falls backwards into a double DDT onto the tag belts!  He kips up to his feet, collects the belts, then rolls out of the ring to meet with his partner and their valets.  All four stroll back down the aisle, grinning from ear to ear.] SR: Ladies and gentlemen, let the clowns through.  We got a madman in     Disneyland, Dross!  Tragedy's laughing like a hyena. TD: Folks, we're told that Larry Morton is on his way to the ring to     see what's going on.  Larry, can you hear me?  Larry? LM: [over the headset] Yes I can, Tim... and I'm going to see if I can     get a word with the Harlequins! [Morton jogs down the path to the ring, eventually coming face to face with the foursome.] LM: I don't believe what I'm seeing! Tragedy, what the heck is going on? HT: Larry, if President Spreadbury thinks that he's going to turn the     Harlequins against each other, he's got another thing coming! If     Icehawk and Fitzgerald really want to wrestle each other, they     can rent a room at the Marriot. But I will never fight my brother,     and he will never fight me. HCh: I asked the suits nicely, "Don't make me fight my brother!" But      they didn't listen, just because I'm a kid. Just because sometimes,      I'm not all right up here. [points to his head.]  Well, if the      suits won't listen, we'll make them listen! HC: I feel a lot of love in this arena right now! HAHAHA! LM: What about the match? What about Ring Wars? HT: Larry, if Cold Spell wants a tag team title match, [hands the other     belt to Chaos] the REAL World Tag Team Champions, will be happy to     oblige them. [The Harlequin entourage pushes past Larry and back towards the locker room. Larry looks on incredulously.] LM: Back to you at ringside, Tim and Steve. [Cut back to the ring, where Fitz is helping Icehawk to his feet.] TD: Thanks, Larry. Well, a shocking turn of events here, Steve Roberts -- and apparently an early end to the tag team of the Cold Quins. I wonder what kind of impact this attack is going to have on next week's title match? SR: Well, duh, Sherlock. I don't think we're going to be seeing the Cold Quins face Potato Famine. TD: I don't know whether the officials will be able to -- or even wish to -- change this World Tag Team title match at such short notice... but Cold Spell are furious! Look at Icehawk in there! SR: Aw, is the gay guy bent out of shape. Go cry me a river, moron! [The stoic Fitz attempts to calm his furious younger partner, who seems to be kicking himself for having trusted such long-standing enemies. Finally, "The Wreck Of The Edmund Fitzgerald" starts up over the PA again, and Cold Spell leave the ring together to a big pop. Cut back to the broadcast table at ringside.] TD: What great tag team action we've seen so far tonight! SR: When do we get to see Turner and Paris? That's a match I'd pay to see. Of course, I'm actually getting paid to see it so all you morons can just suffer! TD: That match caps off the first hour of the show -- but first we have Ike Sampson facing Billy Shakespeare. SR: Oh lord, why me? These two are as boring as paint drying! You stay here, Dross! I'm going to get me a piece of Sleeping Beauty! TD: Do you think she'll put up less of a fight? SR: There you go, Dross! You're getting to be a regular degenerate! Just for that remark, I'll stay for the match and you can go. You've earned it! TD: Neither of us is going anywhere, Steve Roberts! Now you sit there while we get the announcements. ________ ______ | || |\ \ /\ / /| __|.................................................. | || | \ v v / | __| "Spotlight" Billy Shakespeare vs. Ike Sampson |_||_| \_/\_/ |_|.................................................... WRITER: RP [Sparkplug Lee enters the ring, resplendent in an official pair of Mickey Mouse ears with "Sparky" adorning the front.] SR: Aha! He's a mouseketeer! SL: This next match is scheduled for one fall. Introducing first, hailing from North Carolina, and weighing in at 304 pounds... Ike Sampson! ["Kiss" by Prince plays, drowning out the usual hubbub throughout the park, as the big man heads down to ringside. Sampson slaps a few hands but does not get overly distracted by the fans.] TD: Sampson is very focused, but is it on Shakespeare or Tony Starks, who he'll face at Ring Wars next week? SR: Which is only available on pay-per-view. That match alone will be worth the price as we'll see Starks break big Ike into a thousand pieces. Sampson going to be wishing he was back in that cell in Leavenworth before this is over! SL: And his opponent... hailing from Ashland, Oregon... and weighing in at 230 pounds... "Spotlight"... Billy... Shakespeare! [The music switches to "Little Willie" by the Sweet as Shakespeare heads out. Giving his trademark deep bow as he appears at the head of the makeshift aisle, Shakespeare appears in high spirits. He interacts a little more with the fans than Sampson did, swatting hands and basking in their adulation.] TD: Billy Shakespeare seems to be in quite good spirits considering how he was robbed of his chance at the Cruiserweight Title last Saturday. SR: If he wanted the belt he should have stayed in the tournament. Not that he would have gotten very far. Ronnie Paris has this new mean streak that can rip holes in Blitzsphere. TD: That's... never mind. [Both men are in the ring and the ref calls for the bell. They circle each other warily as Billy seems reluctant to lock up.] TD: Billy Shakespeare is giving up 75 pounds in this match. It will be quite a challenge for the talented wrestler. SR: Did you just use the word "talented" during this match? If you want talented you should try that Snow White. Pure as the driven snow she is not! [Finally the two men lock-up and Shakespeare immediately sweeps Sampson's feet out from under him. He then throws himself against the ropes and hits Ike with a great Slingshot Legdrop.] TD: It looks like Billy is trying to eliminate Sampson's size advantage by keeping him on the mat. SR: Snow White tried to take advantage of my size advantage by keeping me on the mat. TD: Must I remind you that this is a family show, Steve Roberts? SR: Oh, I forgot... sex bad... violence good. [Shakespeare tries to press his advantage my lunging at Sampson with a diving elbow smash but Ike had the presence of mind to roll out of the danger area. He jumps on Billy before he can recover, first kicking him and then following with a fistdrop.] TD: Ike Sampson didn't waste any time turning this one around, Steve Roberts. SR: A good big man can beat a good little man any day... and vice versa. Of course neither of these guys qualifies, so it's a moot point. [Sampson continues to work over Shakespeare, pounding him with a series of knee smashes to the back of the neck. He then hoists Shakespeare up into a Full Nelson... but before it can be applied, Billy goes limp and slides out of Ike's grasp.] TD: It's a good thing that Sampson couldn't put that move on. All the speed in the world can't do you any good when you're trapped by those powerful arms. SR: Good for who? I would have been happy to see Sampson pop Shakespeare's head off -- if only he were still with the promotion. It would have brought a little bit of colour to the match. [Shakespeare hits Sampson with a Flying Dropkick out of nowhere. Ike was caught flat-footed as he seemed to think Billy was more injured than he was. He then wraps the big man up in a drop toe hold.] SR: I hate see-saw matches. Why can't we just watch one guy beat up another guy? TD: You mean kind of like a mugging? SR: Exactly! [Shakespeare tries to hold Sampson's leg but it is clear that Ike is about to power out so he suddenly lets go and performs a spinning elbowdrop, halting Sampson's momentum. He follows it with another legdrop off the ropes, but his one connects.] TD: Shakespeare has effectively eliminated Sampson's advantage by... SR: Hold on, Dross. You used that one already! TD: Well, it's true! [Billy hits Sampson with a Double-axhandle but his time Ike just stares] TD: It looks like Billy Shakespeare has woken the sleeping giant! SR: That's just what Snow White... TD: Steve Roberts! SR: Oh, I forgot again. [Sampson gets to his feet and hits Shakespeare with a European Uppercut... and then another. He then grabs the smaller man around the middle and hoists him off the ground in a punishing bearhug.] TD: Ike Sampson has cut off all of Billy Shakespeare's air supply and is grinding down on his ribs! SR: Without a lot of hot air, what has Blitzsphere got? [Seemingly uncontent to finish Shakespeare with this move, Sampson turns it into a thunderous belly to belly suplex. He then picks Billy back up and slaps on the Full Nelson.] TD: It's like Ike Sampson is trying to send a message to... uh-oh. SR: Message received, baby dolls! [Tony Starks slowly wanders out to the ringside, behind the line of sight of both combatants and the referee.] TD: This has been a great technical match-up and Tony Starks is going to spoil it! SR: How? Is he going to let it continue? [Just then, Billy Shakespeare manages to plant his feet and flip Sampson over his head. It is clear that this move has taken a lot out of him, however.] TD: Both men are down! Chuck Sanders is putting on the count... Sampson gets to his feet before he can even reach three. He's picking up Shakespeare and whipping him into the ropes... no! Billy Shakespeare has reversed it! Ike Sampson has gone down like a sack of potatoes! What happened?! SR: Starks happened! That's an official Davey Crocket musket that he just clocked Sampson with! TD: Chuck Sanders' view was blocked by Sampson himself, so he didn't see the interference. Billy Shakespeare is going to the top rope... [Shakespeare nimbly mounts the ropes, cheekily flashing a thumbs up at the dark, brooding figure of Tony Starks, his face obscured by the white towel worn over his head, and balances there, waiting for Sampson to stir. The crowd chant, "Billy! Billy!" as Shakespeare remains perched on the top rope... Sampson finally gets groggily to his feet... and then Shakespeare launches himself, hitting his reverse flipping cross-body block, the Curtain Call! While Starks looks on with his emotionless expression, Sanders drops to the mat to make the count... 1 - 2 - 3! Ding! Ding! Ding!] SL: The winner, as the result of a pinfall... "Spotlight" Billy Shakespeare! SR: Starks isn't done with Sampson! [Starks climbs into the ring but is met by Billy Shakespeare. They immediately start raining blows down on each other!] TD: Shakespeare is protecting Ike Sampson! He's just been through a tough match, though, and he's no match for Tony Starks. [Suddenly, standing behind Starks as he pummels Shakespeare, is Ike Sampson, He casually taps Starks on the shoulder... Starks turns around... and gets levelled by a clothesline!] TD: Ike Sampson is wrapping up Tony Starks' leg in a spinning toe-hold! Remember that Starks' weak point is his knee, injured so long ago by the "Outlaw" J.W. Hardin. SR: Sampson's weak point is his head! [Suddenly the ring is full of Jobbers as they pull Sampson off Tony Starks. The various combatants are heading back to the locker area when El Gecko, Scott Bloom, and Nifty Ned Norton whip off their shirts to expose giant letter shirts spelling "J", "J" and "S". They strike a triumphant pose to the cheers of the Disneyland crowd!] TD: It's clear that the feud between Sampson and Starks isn't letting up in the least. Next week will be a real knock-down, drag-out affair when they face off in that Submission Match at Ring Wars IV. SR: Order now and see the Soundbite in all his glory! [Cut back to the broadcast table at ringside as the Jobber Justice Squad depart.] TD: One week away from Ring Wars IV -- and already the tempers are rising here tonight! SR: I don't think Disneyland's ever seen anything like it, Dross -- well, not since earlier this week anyway. Talk about your proverbial storm in a teacup. Mmm, I tell ya Dross -- the only thing missing was them honeyed biscuits. Hell, yeah. TD: Steve -- no, no time, because coming up right now we've got the final of the Cruiserweight contenders tournament - with Ronnie Paris taking on Timothy N. Turner for the rights to a title match next week! SR: And how the hell Ronnie got this far is a mystery to everyone. TD: Somehow, Steve, I think you're the only one who feels that way, and I can't say I'm surprised. This tournament has certainly brought out the best in Ronnie Paris while Turner, well, it seems like he can't help but take the easy way out nowadays. Let's go down to ringside for the introductions. ________ ______ | || |\ \ /\ / /| __|.................................................. | || | \ v v / | __| CRUISERWEIGHT CONTENDERS TOURNAMENT FINAL: |_||_| \_/\_/ |_| Ronnie Paris vs. Timothy N. Turner ....................................................................... WRITER: MP [The scene cuts to the centre of the ring, where Sparkplug Lee is busy trying to keep his eyes off the young lady dressed as Snow White. She blows him a kiss, and as he blushes the group of dwarves in the front row begin hurling insults and shaking their fists... Sparkplug hurriedly adjusts his bow tie and turns to face the cameras...] SL: The following contest is scheduled for one fall with a fifteen minute time limit, and is the final of the IIWF Cruiserweight contenders tournament final! [Huge pop from the crowd, with the exception of the dwarves, who continue their tirade.] SL: Introducing first, weighing in at 210lbs and hailing from Texas, here is... RONNIE PARIS! SR: Go Ronnie. [There is a sizeable face pop from the younger segment of the crowd as Ronnie's name is announced and Tina Turner's "Simply The Best" starts up over the PA system, but the majority appear fairly disinterested, and a few of the hardcore fans even openly boo as Paris appears at the head of the aisle.] TD: Now if I've ever seen anything as unwarranted in the IIWF, then it's that. Paris has been an incredibly hard worker throughout his career here, and the tournament seems to have really brought out the best in him. It seems like some people just don't appreciate hard work any more. SR: Tell it to someone who cares. Paris sucks! [Roberts stands up, holding his arms in the air, to a familiar cry of "Shoot, Soundbite, Shoot"... in the meantime, Paris seems fairly reluctant to enter the ring, and appears to be arguing with the official...] SR: What the hell is that runt's problem now? TD: I think he's objecting to having to wrestle here tonight. If you had caught his comments earlier, Steve Roberts, he feels that he should have got a bye here. SR: Oh come on, Dross, you know I never watch that crappy two-bit act. Besides, I had a hot date with that Arabian girl, Jasmine. TD: Aladdin? SR: You've got to be kidding. No, she was a girl all right. A real woman. TD: What happened to Snow White? SR: I didn't say she wasn't there as well. TD: Unbelievable. [Paris finally enters the ring, still, passing the occasional comment to the official, but retreats to his corner as "Simply The Best" fades out, and the crowd pops expectantly... the camera cuts back to Sparkplug Lee] SL: And his opponent... weighing in at 230lbs and hailing from Victoria, B.C., Canada... here is TIMOTHY N. TURNER! [The crowd pops as "The Good Life" by Tony Bennett starts up over the PA system and the lights dim, a series of spotlights picking out the aisle... and the crowd's reaction instantly changes to one of confusion as Duncan Macbeth coolly strolls down towards ringside!] TD: Uh-oh. Now this we could have expected. Looks like Turner's found himself an equaliser. SR: But where the hell is Turner? [Macbeth stops at the foot of the aisle, and "The Good Life" cuts off, to be replaced by "The Moons of Jupiter" by Scruffy the Cat. One by one, the spotlights flick from the aisle and focus up above the arena... to catch Turner as he soars over the Mattahorn and swoops down towards the ring, drawing gasps of amazement from the crowd!] SR: I should've guessed. [Turner slowly lands in the ring, and he takes off the now-familiar rocketpack, revealing the design "Rocket Man" written on the back of his robe in silver. His normal tights are replaced with shiny red and silver with TNT written on the backside and his boots also have been redesigned, with pictures of rockets on the side. To complete the outfit, he's wearing a Rocketeer style helmet. Paris shakes his head as Turner raises his arms to huge applause, and walks back across to the official, pointing back at Turner and shouting.] SR: Now that's what I call an entrance. TD: Unbelievable. Who would have thought the fans could be bought by a flashy entrance rather than sublime wrestling ability? SR: Who are you trying to kid, Dross? Take a look at this guy! The boys in marketing are probably giving themselves hernias right now. TD: Unbelievable. [As the referee tries to deal with Paris' protests, Macbeth leaps up onto the ring apron and shouts something at them both, causing both to spin around and the referee to try and push himself between them as Paris lets fly with a right hand, drawing his own first big pop! Macbeth drops back off the ring apron with a grin, and as the referee turns to remonstrate with him, Turner charges Paris from behind, nailing him hard across the back of the head with the Rocketman helmet! Huge heel pop from the crowd! Turner rolls Paris up...] TD: Did you see that, Steve? Turner nailed Paris with that bronze helmet! He could be out cold! Despicable tactics! SR: Hell Dross, everyone has good days. This ain't one of Paris'. Say good night, punk. [The referee sees the pin, and rolls into position... 1 - 2 - ] TD: Turner's got the tights hooked! Three! SR: No! Wake up, referee! [Paris somehow manages to kick out at the very last second, and is violently dragged back to his feet by Turner, who presses home his advantage, sending Paris face-first hard into the turnbuckles, and then pulling him back out and sending him over his head and into the canvas with a lightning fast waistlock suplex... another cover... 1 - 2 - Paris scrapes his shoulder up, again at the very last second, and Turner descends on him with a barrage of fast punches...] TD: They're closed fists! Get in there, referee! SR: Get real, Dross... [Turner yanks Paris back up to his feet and backs him into the ropes for an Irish whip...] TD: No! Reversal by Paris! And a huge lariat will buy him some time! [Both men lie flat out on the canvas, gasping for breath. Turner rolls, clutching the back of his head and kicking at the canvas in pain, and the crowd pops as Paris rolls over and slaps the canvas before pushing himself up onto his knees.. Turner reaches the ropes and starts to pull himself back to his feet at the same time... both men reach their feet, and stagger around to face each other...] TD: Inverted atomic drop by Paris! And he follows it up with another lariat! And... look at Turner, Steve! Scurrying straight into the ropes! And Paris is hot! [The crowd pops loudly as the referee forces Paris back away from Turner, who is holding his hands up for time-out. Slowly, Turner pushes himself back to his feet, warily eyeing Paris, who gestures for him to make a move... both men move into a lock up...] TD: Lightning fast headlock takedown by Paris! He rolls over, pushing Turner into the pin... one... two...kickout! And Turner with headscissors! [Paris kicks out of the headscissors immediately, and both men leap to their feet, only for Paris to catch Turner with anther lightning-quick headlock takedown! Paris grinds the hold in tight, and Turner shouts out a loud negative as the official asks for the submission. Turner kicks the canvas in frustration a couple of times, before twisting his body and rolling his arm under Paris...] TD: Turner now, trying to move Paris' weight.... and he pulls him into an inside cradle! One... two... Paris kicks out, and straight into a pin of his own! One... two... kickout by Turner! Both men quickly up to their feet... and Paris with another headlock takedown, and Turner is livid! SR: Yeah? Well you can't see the way Paris keeps pulling the hair whenever Timmy boy's on the verge of breaking out! TD: Of course I can't see it, Steve, because it simply isn't happening! [Paris keeps the hold locked in tight as Turner desperately looks for a way to escape, first trying to roll Paris up again, then trying to pull his jaw back, and finally reaching up for a handful of hair. The referee spots it however, and forces him to let go. Turner slaps the mat again and swears to himself, before trying to twist his body around again...] TD: And Turner trying the headscissors again... Paris kicks away... both men back to their feet... and Paris catches Turner with a superb standing dropkick as he runs in! [The crowd pops as Turner springs back to his feet again, only to be took down by again by a hip throw from Paris... he leaps up again and Paris again takes him down with a beautifully executed armdrag, before cinching on an armbar...] TD: And the crowd is really starting to warm to Paris now... and Turner is starting to warm to the ropes! Taking the easy way out! [The referee forces Paris to break the hold, and Turner slowly picks himself back up to his feet, dusting himself down and grinning at Paris... Paris lunges in, and Turner backs himself between the ropes again, forcing the referee to step in between...] TD: And Turner with a thumb to the eye over the official's head! SR: I know. Disgraceful tactics. But then again, I'll never tire of watching people jab at widdle Wonnie's opticals. It's one of my few vices in life. TD: That and Walt Disney characters, I suppose? SR: And biscuits. Preferably combined. But that goes without saying. [Paris backs away, clutching at his face, and Turner descends on him, nailing him with a series of punches to the back of the head, and following up with a kneelift that sends Paris snapping back onto the canvas. Turner immediately drops into a choke hold, and the referee counts... 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - Turner releases the hold with a smirk. There's a commotion from the crowd around ringside, followed by a pop as they realise that someone's making their way down the aisle...] TD: Derek Mota! What's the Cruiserweight Champion doing coming down here? SR: I guess he's scouting the competition. Such as it is. [Duncan Macbeth moves to intercept Mota, who smirks and gestures he just wants to watch the match. Macbeth holds his ground, and glares at the Cruiserweight champion with contempt. In the ring, Turner backs to the ropes, and comes off with a kneedrop straight across Paris' temple... the cover... 1 - 2 - kickout by Paris!] TD: Turner now, moving to the legs... and a stomp to the... oh no. Steve Roberts, will you stop laughing? SR: Bwahaha... go on Dross, say it... "lower abdomen"... TD: I don't think it could get much lower... [As Paris doubles up in pain, Turner twists his leg, snapping him around into a step-over toehold, locking it in tight and applying increasing pressure to Paris' knee... ] TD: The referee asks for the submission... SR: And Paris squeaks out an answer in that choir's boy voice. Oh Wonnie, things didn't use to be this way... what would Maggie say? TD: Will you stop? [Paris thumps the canvas and yells out in pain as Turner releases the hold, and then twists it back on with force. The referee asks for the submission again, and again Paris shakes his head angrily, before sitting up and trying to pry his leg free...] SR: And Turner with a slap to the face! Go on, Rocket boy, slap the taste out of his mouth! [Turner laughs at the gasp from the crowd, and slaps Paris again! Paris sits up straight and glares at him, before reaching out quickly and grabbing Turner by the hair, sending a rapid stream of closed fists to Turner's head... Turner frantically tries to release the hold and get away from the barrage as the crowd pops wildly... both men break away, and Turner falls to the canvas, shaking his head... Paris reaches out for the ropes and limps up to his feet...] TD: And Turner clips his knee from behind! SR: Aw man, that's gotta hurt... [Turner drags Paris into the centre of the ring, picking up his injured left leg and dropping an elbow across it, before pulling Paris into a spinning toe hold...] TD: And dropping down into a figure four! Timothy N. Turner has the figure four leglock on Ronnie Paris! That could do it! [Paris yells out in pain as Turner applies the pressure, and he reaches back for the ropes which are a couple of feet out of his grasp. The referee asks him for the submission, and he shakes his head, before clutching at his face in pain. Outside the ring, Mota tries to manoeuvre himself to get a better view, and Macbeth blocks his path! Mota shoves him back angrily, and Macbeth responds with a push of his own, and the two start to argue... and the crowd pops as a figure slips over the retaining barriers...] TD: Billy Shakespeare! Billy Shakespeare's at ringside! SR: What the hell does Mr. Schizophrenia want now? TD: Steve, please... [Shakespeare looks on with concern as Paris tries to fight the figure four. Paris makes a couple of attempts to sit up and hit Turner, missing the target by a matter of inches each time, before falling back and clutching his face in pain as Turner forces even more pressure on. Shakespeare paces, and yells advice to Paris, before reaching out and pushing the ropes in his direction. Paris looks across, and glares angrily at Shakespeare, before shaking his head and twisting his body, trying to reverse the hold...] SR: Not a chance. He's too small to be able to roll Turner over. He should have taken the way out offered to him. TD: He's too much of a competitor, Steve. SR: You mean he doesn't want to risk getting disqualified... [Paris continues to try and roll Turner over as Shakespeare watches on anxiously... and he collapses back to the canvas in pain. The referee counts his shoulders down... 1 - 2 - ] TD: And Paris gewts his shoulder up! That one was close! SR: And Turner slaps him again for his efforts! Don't you just love it? [Shakespeare shouts anxiously as Paris glares at Turner through a haze of pain and anger, and Pairs looks back at the ropes being offered again... and twists violently, twisting Turner onto his side! Huge pop from the crowd!] TD: He's going to do it, Steve! He's almost reversed the figure four on Turner! [Turner shakes his head in disbelief as Paris grits his teeth and continues to roll the hold... Shakespeare offers the ropes to Paris again.. and Paris shakes his head, falling onto his stomach, completely reversing the figure four on Turner, who yells out in pain and frantically scrambles for the ropes...] TD: The ropes are too far away, Steve... he's not going to make it! [Turner reaches out again, but comes nowhere near the ropes! The referee asks for the submission, and he shakes his head frantically as Paris slowly, painfully, pushes himself up, forcing even more pressure on Turner...] TD: Turner's got to break that hold himself, Steve! He's got to break that hold himself, or he's going to be in deep trouble right here! [Turner desperately tries to untangle his legs from Paris' as the pressure begins to mount... one of his legs slips free...] TD: Paris has grabbed the leg! What's he doing? SR: Oh no... [Paris untangles his legs, keeping hold of Turner's free leg as he does so, and sits back, crossing Turner's legs over and leaning back....] TD: Texas Cloverleaf! Paris has reversed Turner's figure four into a Texas Cloverleaf right in the middle of the ring! Incredible! What guts from the young Texan! [The crowd pops wildly as Paris leans back, pouring the pressure on Turner... the referee asks for the submission... Turner shakes his head frantically, reaching out for the ropes... Shakespeare slaps the canvas, urging Paris on...] TD: Turner's flexing... he can't reach the ropes... he falls back to the canvas... [Huge disappointed pop from the crowd!] SR: And he kicks out! Hah! Paris couldn't keep it locked on... widdle Wonnie just ain't strong enough! [Both men claw their way towards the ropes and start to pull themselves towards their feet, each limping heavily... Shakespeare shouts instructions at Paris, who just glares at him angrily and shakes his head... Turner sees his chance and charges...] TD: Straight into a Northern Light's suplex! Northern Light's suplex by Paris! The bridge! One... two... three! What the...? Did he get him? SR: No! Paris' leg gave out! Bwahahaha... he could've had it tied up there, but his leg gave out! TD: Turner hit hard! He's stunned! And Shakespeare wants Paris to tie this one up! He's calling for the Paris-plex! [Wearily, Paris pulls himself back to his feet, hoisting Turner back up as well... he slips behind Turner... Shakespeare again shouts for Paris to use the Paris-plex... Paris' shakes his head slowly... and slams Turner down with a side Russian legsweep! He slowly climbs to his feet...] TD: Turner looks to be out cold, and Shakespeare is beside himself on the outside! He thinks Paris should have finished Turner off right there! SR: Not a chance. He couldn't hold the Texas Cloverleaf, he couldn't hold the Northern Lights... ain't no way he could hold the Paris-Plex. TD: You could be right, Steve... [Paris signals that he's going to the ropes... and Shakespeare leaps onto the ring apron! Pop! He grabs Paris by the shoulder as he climbs onto the turnbuckle...] TD: Shakespeare's again shouting for Paris to finish him off! This is ridiculous, Steve, let him wrestle! [Paris shrugs Shakespeare off angrily, and starts to climb the buckles. Shakespeare grabs him again, slowing him down, again telling him not to take the risk but to finish Paris off. Turner rolls over on the canvas, cheat heaving, dead to the world... Paris shrugs Shakespeare's attentions off again, and leaps...] TD: Flying body splash by Paris... no! Turner moves out of the way! SR: That's it! Pin the little runt! [Back in the aisle, Mota nods his head in satisfaction and turns away from Macbeth, walking back towards the dressing rooms. Inside the ring, Turner rolls to his knees slowly as Shakespeare slaps the mat, trying to spur Paris on... Turner smirks as he stands up, and draws the thumb across his throat...] TD: Turner now, picking Paris up... no! Boot to the stomach by Paris... Shakespeare's frantically shouting for the Paris-plex... and he's going for it! [Paris nods slowly, and slips behind Turner for the Paris-plex, and lifts...] TD: No! His knee gave out! [Paris' leg buckles under the weight, and Turner comes crashing down on top of him... he hooks the leg and the referee slides into position... Shakespeare leaps onto the ring apron... 1 - 2 - ] TD: Turner's got the tights hooked! Shakespeare's shouting to the referee! SR: And Macbeth yanks him off the ring apron! [ - 3! The referee signals for the bell!] SR: He got him! Turner got him! TD: I don't believe it! [There is a loud heel pop from the crowd as Turner rolls off Ronnie Paris, arm raised in the air... "The Moons of Jupiter" starts up over the PA system again as Paris slowly puts his hands to his head in despair...] SL: Here is your winner as a result of pinfall... TIMOTHY N. TURNER! [The crowd boos loudly as the referee helps Turner to his feet and raises his arm in the air... on the outside, Shakespeare breaks away from Macbeth and runs across to the ring apron, shouting at Paris in disbelief... Paris staggers to his feet, and climbs outside the ring...] TD: And Paris is going after Shakespeare! Oh my! SR: What the hell's his problem now, Dross? Shakespeare was only trying to help! TD: His problem is that Shakespeare was being more of a distraction to him than anyone! Paris should have had this one won! [Shakespeare backs off slowly towards the dressing rooms, and an an infuriated Ronnie Paris limps off slowly after him...] TD: What a match, folks, and it looks like Ronnie Paris is hot about this one! I don't think he's going to catch up with Shakespeare, but we'll keep you up to date! And it's Timothy N. Turner who is going on to Ring Wars IV to meet Derek Mota in seven days' time! Unbelievable! [Cut back to the broadcast table at ringside.] TD: That just about brings us to the end of our first hour, folks, but we'll be right back in just a few moments with a special interview from the "Outlaw" J.W. Hardin! We'll also have the latest news on Ring Wars IV, a special statement from the IIWF President himself -- and four more incredible matches! Stay tuned! [Cut to a wide-angle shot of the ringside enclosure as Timothy N. Turner celebrates in the ring with Duncan Macbeth. 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 -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=+