________ ______ __ ____ ___ __ . _ ___ | || |\ \ /\ / /| __| / /\ | | || \| \ /\ \ / |\ || / \| | | | || | \ v v / | __| \__ /__\ | | ||__/| |/__\ v | \||| __|-| | |_||_| \_/\_/ |_| \ \| v | \|__/ \| | || \_|| | | __________________________/...hour two...\........|...|.......|....| LIVE! IIWF Coliseum, Portland, Oregon 3 January 1998 [Fade through to interior shots of the IIWF Coliseum, fireworks erupting around the ring entrance area and high above the rigging in the rafters of the jam-packed arena. The shot cuts rapidly between various sections of the crowd, fans waving at the cameras, holding aloft their signs and showing off their merchandise. Eventually, the shot comes to rest on Tim Dross, who stands in the ring, clutching a microphone. The lights dim throughout the arena noticably as Dross begins speaking.] TD: Fans of the IIWF were in total shock last week during the Saturday Night broadcast. [Footage rolls of last week's gruelling triangle match for the IIWF World Championship.  Dross' words can be heard as the tape rolls...] TD: Perhaps one of the greatest matches of the year featuring three of the greatest superstars this federation has ever known -- Steve "The Fury" Kowalsksi, Brody Thunder, and Serge Annis -- all for the glory and the gold of the IIWF World Championship.  A match for the ages to be for sure. But the match's greatness was matched -- dare I say surpassed -- by the completely unexpected and shocking return of one Mad Dog Watkins. [A big mixed pop erupts from the crowd, with most of the cheers coming from the large and ever-growing group of "Furies" gathered at ringside.] TD: And while we were all very excited by Watkins' return, his actions brought more questions than answers.  Where has he been?  Why is he back? And more importantly, why help Steve Kowalski? [A noticeable chant of "Fury" goes up throught the crowd.] TD: Well, ladies and gentlemen, let's try to get some of the answers we deserve.  Let me introduce to you... MAD DOG WATKINS! [The camera swings to the wrestler's entrance as "Paint it Black" by the Rolling Stones blares out over the Coliseum PA system, matched by a large crowd reaction.  After a few seconds, no one comes out...of the entrance that is.  The crack cameramen at ringside notice a figure emmerging from over the steel restraining barricade at ringside.] SR: [over the headset]  Here comes Watkins' from the crowd! [Watkins is dressed very casually -- faded old blue jeans, a dark blue Detroit Lions sweatshirt and boots.  He slides under the ring ropes and stands up behind Tim Dross, who still watches the ring aisle searching for a sign of Watkins.] TD: Well, ladies and gentlemen, I thought we were scheduled for an interview, but... [Dross is cut off in mid-sentence by Watkins who lays his big ebony paw on the shoulder of the smaller announcer.  Tim Dross' eyes go wide and he spins around quickly.] TD: Mad Dog! [The crowd goes silent in anticipation, but Watkins merely reaches out and grabs the microphone from Dross' hand.] MDW: Scare you, did I, TD?  Maybe you thought I might get a little stone cold on your ass?  Nah... you know me better than that. SR: [over the headset] Damn... [Dross reaches back and takes the microphone and continues.] TD: One can never be too sure in this day and age of the IIWF, Mad Dog. You have been a man of surprises lately, haven't you?  And now, you come out for your interview from the crowd? MDW: Well, TD... you learn a few things when you've been in this business as long as I have.  Rule #1 is watch your back.  I come out... punk out Annis... help Thunder lose his title... you think a few of the guys back in the locker room are wanting to go headhunting right now?  What a better place for me to be than sitting up in row ZZ, seat number 7, drinking a few beers and watching the show. TD: You mean to tell me that you bought a ticket and have been sitting in the crowd the whole time? [Watkins reaches into his pocket and pulls out his ticket.] MDW: Is this proof enough?  [Camera cuts to the cheap seats where Watkins' empty seat is shown.  The fans around the seat are rabid and one holds up a sign that reads, "The Dog Pound -- Mad Dog's our Daddy Tonight!"] MDW: Just goes to show you, what you've been looking for is sometimes right under your nose... you've just been looking in the wrong places. TD: You sound slightly cryptic, MDW?  Care to elaborate? MDW: Well... you know I can shoot with the best of the them, TD.  Is that what you want? [MDW points his finger at Dross, you just shrugs his shoulders and hands the microphone to the chiseled veteran.] MDW: [pointing around the ring to the crowd]  Is that what all of you want? [The crowd erupts in a massive chant of "Shoot! Shoot! Shoot!"] MDW: Well, Spreadbury -- if you're out there in the back, I suggest you cut this microphone off now 'cause I'm going to answer everyone's damn questions and not everyone's gonna like what I have to say.  I'm gonna shoot so straight it'd make Steve Roberts proud. [Watkins looks at Dross who just stands there, befuddled.] MDW: You might wanna sit down, Dross... This is gonna take a while. [Dross shrugs his shoulders once again, and slowly makes his way out of the ring and towards to announce position.] MDW: Well, well, well... where do we begin? You wanna start with where I've been for the past four months?  How about in a hospital bed... in and out of surgery... and rehabbing every single night and day.  Oh yes... I bet most of you had no idea. No idea that when Mad Dog was here last, he was busting his ass every night in the ring with a partially torn tendon in his knee suffered when that pup Creed and me went round and round.  Or how about the three broken ribs that never healed thanks to Brody Thunder chairshot after chairshot.  Or what about the two slipped discs in my back, suffered when I took the Goodnight, Farewell, Amen powerbomb off of the outfield wall at Ring Wars III?  The same back problem that flared up when Tony Stark's choked me out in my last match here, and left me with no feeling in my right arm for a whole week.  I bet you had no clue, did you? [The crowd just sits in a stunned silence, still trying to comprehend the vast number of injuries Watkins was dealing with in his last days of the IIWF.] MDW: Very few had any idea because I didn't let them.  This is a business built on pain and injuries are part of the game.  If you can walk, you can go.  And Spreadbury and the suits wouldn't have it any other way. "But you're in the main event, Mad Dog"... "The ratings, Mad Dog -- you have to wrestle"... I've heard it all. And I answered every challenge, every request, because I am first and foremost a man.  A man who knows what it's like to meet his responsibilities, and a man whose own sutbborn pride won't let him back down from doing what he has to do... and doing it _well_... TD: [over the headset]  I had no idea... SR: [over the headset]  Hush Dross... he ain't done. MDW: But one man knew about the knee, the ribs, the back... Spreadbury.  So when we had a conference after the Starks' match and I told him that I finally had to take some time off to heal, what does he do?  He tells me, "Well, your contract's coming up soon anyway, and injuries occur more often and take longer to heal at your age, so I think it would be in our best interests to let you go." Simple as that.  Bust my ass while I'm here.  Put guys who couldn't carry my jockstrap over "in the time honored tradition".  And what does Mad Dog Watkins get in return?  Not a hi, bye, or kiss my ass.  I got nothing. TD: [over the headset]  I don't think the President's going to like this one. SR: [over the headset]  Watkins warned him, didn't he?  MDW: So I take time off.  I have the necessary surgery.  I get fixed... I get healed... and I get more and more angry every single day that I hit the gym.  The knee... better than ever.  The ribs?  Fully healed.  The back? Missing a disc, but that ain't gonna stop me.  I hit the gym... I hit the weights... harder than I ever did before.  All with one thing in mind... getting back and whipping some ass. Of course, during all this, no one bothers calling up and asking how I'm doing.  For all they know, my contract's just run out and Spreadbury has shown me the door.  Everywhere I turn... the sheets, the Internet... no mention of my injuries.  The IIWF spin doctors make it sound like they did the Old Dog a favor and cut the "dead weight" of an aging superstar.  The only person I hear from is Kowalski.  But that ain't like you think.  I get this homemade postcard in the mail.  It's got a picture of him piledriving me into the concrete arena floor on the front, and on the inside scrawled in Crayon reads, "Hiya Cripple... Get back soon so I can put ya back in the hospital.  The Fury" He's a real riot, but at least he knows the truth.  Any of the other so-called superstars who knew the real deal behind my leaving didn't even bother to check in on the Old Dog.  Washed up... over the hill... outta sight, and outta mind.  That's how I was thought of by the IIWF. TD: [over the headset] Had I known... SR: [over the headset] Shut up, Dross.  This is beautiful. MDW: Then a funny thing happened.  The ratings started to sink.  The guys who were to carry the torch when I was cut couldn't handle it.  Requiem? Gone.  Creed?  Gone too.  I think somewhere down the line, I told Spreadbury it'd happen. So when word started to spread that the Mad Dog was back and on the mend, who comes knocking at my door but good ol' Dan Spreadbury.  Spouting about how he and the IIWF has missed me and had been thinking of me every day since I left them with my unfortunate injuries.  About how he'd love to have me back. [Watkins stops, smirks, and shakes his head.] I'm sure he would.  So he throws big money my way.  Even bigger than I was asking before.  And more money still when he hears that other feds are courting the Mad Dog.  Mad money that I'd be a fool not to accept. But it ain't about the money.  It's about the man.  It's about ME. Spreadbury... if you think for one instance that I'm back for any other reason than to prove you and everyone else wrong, you must be stupider than I thought.  The IIWF is going to be under seige from the Mad Dog, cause he's pissed and when that happens, you had just better get out of the way. And I'm starting with Serge Annis.  Why?  Because I can.  He was a mid-carder when I left here and he still is one now that I'm back.  Only difference is that he's got men like Kowalski... Thunder... and I guess now, _me_ to carry his no-talent ass in main event matches.  So get angry with the Mad Dog for "causing you to lose the belt".  Get angry with the "old man who doesn't know his spot".  'Cause, son -- you're going to need every bit of that anger and more if you hope to get past the Mad Dog alive. And when I'm done with "Surging Anus", I'm moving on to other unfinished business.  Spreadbury, you wanted me back, but I don't think you can handle me.  Consider the IIWF under seige and I'm bringing the chaos.  I hope this federation survives. [Watkins throws down the microphone, falls between the ropes and jumps the barrier into the crowd who chant "Welcome back... welcome back... welcome back!" to the veteran as he makes his way out of the arena. Cut back to the broadcast table at ringside.] TD: Well, candid comments from the returning Mad Dog Watkins to open our second hour here tonight. Welcome back to the IIWF Coliseum, folks. If you've just joined us, we still have some tremendous action coming your way in the next sixty minutes -- culminating in that huge main event, as Chris Quigley defends the Intercontinental Championship against Duncan Macbeth. Plus we're still awaiting the answer of Steve Kowalski and the IIWF President concerning the challenge laid down by Brody Thunder at the top of the show tonight: he wants a rematch with the IIWF World Heavyweight Champion, and he wants it now! SR: I have to believe the Fury's not in the building, Dross, otherwise we would have had him out here by now. The New Jersey Nightmare backs down from _nobody_ -- especially not a whining sonofabitch like Thunder. TD: I just hope we have some kind of answer before the end of the show tonight, because if anybody lives up to the moniker of "Evil, Mean and Nasty" -- it's Brody Thunder. Folks, we have some tremendous matches still coming your way here tonight... let's get straight back up to the ring, as the "Enigma" Takezo Musashi faces Christopher Stonebreaker. We had absolute chaos at ringside at the end of our last match, which saw the "Enigma" interfering to attack Ronnie Paris. Let's take a look at some footage. [Cut to footage captioned, "Moments Ago." Musashi comes to ringside carrying a steel step-ladder, taking out all of Ronnie Paris' hired goons with a well-aimed charge, carrying the ladder across his chest. The screen flashes, cutting to a few moments later: Musashi charges forward down the aisle, sprinting like a hundred metre runner, springing like a nimble cat right up the ladder steps towards the top rope, reaching the end and using the leverage to launch himself through the air and into the ring, sommersaulting through space, careening down towards Ronnie Paris and crashing into him with an incredible ladder assisted somersault bodypress! Musashi and Paris crash down toward the canvas, Rick Williams diving aside in the nick of time, but Big Joey Patrick not so fortunate, caught in the way, and going down hard sandwiched between the falling bodies! Again, the shot cuts to later in the match. Musashi has set up the ladder in the ring and stands atop it with his back to the crowd. Musashi launches himself up off the ladder, backflipping through the air, careening down towards the outside of the ring, spinning through an incredible three revolutions... then splashing down onto the staggering figure of Ronnie Paris with super-charged velocity, bringing both men crashing down against the steel crowd barriers, with a Starsault Press from the top of the ladder to the outside! Cut back to the broadcast table at ringside.] TD: Truly unbelievable scenes just moments ago here in the Coliseum. I have to believe that right now, Ronnie Paris is backstage absolutely fuming about that attack. I would not be at all surprised to see him out here during this encounter. Most of the time when we've talked about Takezo Musashi lately, we've talked about his enmity for Ronnie Paris... However, now he's about to try and settle another feud, that with Christopher Stonebreaker. SR: This one should be a snorefest... at least until Lt. Paris shows up     for a return strike. TD: You mean a run-in? SR: We prefer the term "tactical offensive manoeuvre" in the Special Forces. ________ ______ | || |\ \ /\ / /| __|.................................................. | || | \ v v / | __| "Enigma" Takezo Musashi vs. |_||_| \_/\_/ |_| Christopher Stonebreaker ....................................................................... WRITER: JdW [In the ring, Sparkplug Lee was patiently waiting for someone to bring him his mic... but then remembered where the staff that might do that were and went to get it himself. After this brief interlude, he begins doing his job.] SL: Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is scheduled for one     fall! Introducing first, hailing from Kobe Japan and weighing 210     pounds, he is the "Enigma" Takezo Musashi! [John Coltrane's "Stellar Regions" begins to play, and the Enigma makes his second entrance of the day. This does not seem to be the same Enigma, though, as he's back into his silver, black and blue costume, stars instead of pentagrams adding to the effect. The wild look is gone from his eyes, and he seems downright civil while interacting with the fans.] TD: That's the same man as you saw a few moments ago, folks, but it's a     completely different personality. The way he dresses, the     mannerisms... all different. Takezo Musashi is an extremely complex character, Steve Roberts -- but whichever "Enigma" comes down to the ring to face you, you can be sure you'll get one heck of a match. SR: Hey, why don't I hear any chants of "USA"? [A few inebriated Soundbiters offer up a nationalistic chant, but for the large part Musashi is wildly cheered as Lee gets ready to introduce his opponent.] SL: And his opponent... hailing from LaFayette, Louisiana, at a weight of 266 pounds, he is known as the "Ragin' Cajun", Christopher Stonebreaker! [Hank Williams Jr.'s "A Country Boy can Survive" booms out over the sound system, and the large Stonebreaker burts out into the aisle, not looking perturbed with the seeming duality of Musashi's personality. Chris walks towards the ring with a confident stride, also taking time to greet a lot of the fans and keep some of his fan base for this match. Neither man takes their eyes much off the other, though, as Stonebreaker gets closer and closer to the ring.] TD: This is a chance for redemption for Stonebreaker, who felt he lost     unfairly to the Enigma some weeks ago. SR: I don't really like him, but I'll be rooting for him. You have to     cheer for a good American boy over someone from Japan. TD: He's Japa... wait, you got it right! SR: Damn skippy I am. Damn, he's gonna try to bore us all to death now. [With Stonebreaker by now in the ring, Musashi asks for the mic from Sparky to impart a few words of wisdom. The Cajun looks on silently as Musashi begins to speak.] TM: Stonebreaker, you feel that the methods of the Enigma have been     dishonourable, and in your heart is the desire for justice. You must     know by now, that to the IIWF administration, justice is the least     concern. They will not punish my transgressions, or anybody else's     for that matter. Nor will they offer you any requital for the     treachery that is done to you. Apparently, the rules they themselves     have instituted are of little matter to these officials. That is     simply the way of our violent sport.     But, it matters to you that you have been beaten in a ruthless     manner, and it matters to me that my methods should be found     questionable. It matters to me because, whether I fight a man with     the fires of fury and a disregard for lawfulness, or whether I     wrestle him with cool headed science and strategy, I have the will,     the talent, and the fighting spirit to overcome him. I can beat any     man in the IIWF on any kind of terms. So tonight, for this one     match, Christopher Stonebreaker, I'm going to give to you what you     desire.     When you saw me come out here earlier, you saw the Enigma's konton     na tamashii unbound. You saw me as I gave my anger for Ronnie Paris     free reign. I threw his match into chaos and fury, and I did what I     had to do to show him that I am no man to be mocked or trifled with.     But as you see me standing before you now, you see the other half of     the Enigma's visage. You see a man composed and focused, his head     full of strategy and technical knowledge.     A man of honour.     So I am going to give to you what you desire, Stonebreaker. I am     going to give you a clean match with the Enigma. From me, you will     receive no clenched fists. You will receive no blows with foreign     objects. No sneak attacks. No law breaking. What you will get, is     just clean, solid technical wrestling...     ...and the fight of your life.     Stonebreaker, it's just you and me. Just our skills, our wits and     our sweat. May the best man win. [Musashi then bows to Stonebreaker in traditional Japanese ceremonial fashion. The bell rings to start the match.]         TD: I expect a fantastic match right here! SR: You been drinking the same stuff Morton had on Wednesday? [Both men size each other up to start the match, shuffling around each other and occasionally sending an arm out in a weak attempt to grab the opponent. Finally, Musashi pops in quickly to grab an amateur style single-leg. Musashi pinches Chris' hamstring, dropping him into a takedown by the reflex action. The Enigma then goes right for a kneelock, but the bigger Stonebreaker has a bit of leverage and is fighting it.] SR: Boring. TD: Good technical action to start this match. SR: Boring. [Musashi changes tack as he sees he doesn't have the strength to turn Stonebreaker over, so he lets go and both men get to their feet again. This time it's Stonebreaker trying for a quick move, ducking under the Enigma's defense to take an armbar. Stonebreaker twists it into a chicken-wing style hold behind Musashi's arm, pulling for a moment before the hold is reversed by a go-around. Stonebreaker suffers for a second before throwing an elbow backwards, but Musashi ducks and uses the opportunity to hook one of Stonebreaker's legs, pulling him up in a suplex motion only to bring down the Cajun's exposed calf onto his knee. Stonebreaker comes out a bit gimpy and limps away, only to have Musashi chase after him. This time Stonebreaker is ready, grabbing him in a headlock as he comes in. Musashi struggles a bit, but Stonebreaker is doing a good job of cutting off the air supply and has the Enigma falling to one knee.] TD: This is what I like to see... scientific wrestling with the winner     being the man that applies the best holds. SR: It sucked in the Thirties, it sucks now. [Stonebreaker adjusts his grip a bit, trying to keep Musashi out of it. The Enigma, however, begins to battle back and rise, drawing power from some unseen force. His whole body shakes as he starts to fight up... up... and drops down with a jawbreaker! Stonebreaker falls like a... he falls, and Musashi moves in to cover. Dave D'Amato gets his first action of the match, counting for: 1 -- 2 -- and the Cajun kicks out! Musashi brings him back to his feet and grabs a headlock of his own, but doesn't hold it long as he grasps at Stonebreaker's singlette and uses the leverage to hit a snap suplex. Again there is a cover.] TD: Musashi again for a pin! He have one, we have two, and Stonebreaker     kicks out! SR: I feel bad for poor Dave D'Amato. He's the ref the lets him go and he has to call a resthold-fest like this. [Stonebreaker shoots up again and locks into a collar-and-elbow tieup with the Enigma. Musashi tries to get the leverage, but Stonebreaker heads him off and then fires a knee into his gut. This incapacitates him long enough for Chris to nail a reverse DDT. He has a chance to cover, but instead elects to run off the ropes for momentum as Musashi rises fairly quickly. He jumps into the air somewhat uncharacteristically, and pays as the Enigma catches him and falls back into a Hotshot type move. Musashi immediately moves in to lock on an anklelock submission that has Stonebreaker squiriming, but he's very close to the ropes and just has to inch over a bit before reaching out to grab the bottom strand. A frustrated Stonebreaker gets up, looking to move to a style of match he's more comfortable with, and winds up a big right hand aimed for Musashi's nose. With catlike quickness, the Enigma ducks away and at the same time grabs the outstretched arm. He puts pressure on it while tripping Stonebreaker up, ending up with him on his stomach in an amateur style arm-bar, holding it right up by the shoulder. He isn't getting a terrible amount of pressure on, so he takes a bit of time to adjust the move to his liking.] TD: Fujiwara arm bar! Great shoot-style move there by the former Cruiserweight Champion. The last time we saw a move like that... SR: [interrupting] Don't say it, Dross. I've tried to put that out of my     head. [Musashi now just tries to keep exerting pressure on the shoulder of Stonebreaker, satisified with the way the move is applied. This time the Cajun isn't too close to any set of ropes, so he's limited to weak efforts at a reversal.] TD: It's like we're seeing a totally different wrestler here, and the     costume is all indicative of that. We have Takezo Musashi, the one we know, a technical and aerial master, and then there's the wild animal that attacked Ronnie Paris earlier in the show. SR: Come on, idiot, get up! It's just a friggin' armbar! [Stonebreaker continues to be in trouble, refusing to give up but not able to do anything about his predicament. Suddenly, though, the tables turn as Ronnie Paris walks out into the aisle, wearing his "Soundbite Special Forces" shirt and carrying a steel folding chair. The Enigma sees him almost immediately, and gets to his feet forgetting about Stonebreaker. He has the same wild look in his eyes as when he attacked Paris earlier, and the Texan still sports the bruisesfrom that encounter.] SR: We have company! Come on, Ronnie, show the Enema to a chair! TD: The Enigma has forgotten about his match... and he may pay! Roll up     by Stonebreaker! [The Cajun, after shaking out the kinks a bit, rolls up an unsuspecting Musashi from behind for a count of: 1 -- 2 -- 3! No, D'Amato indicates it's only two to a relieved pop! Paris continues to advance on the ring, grinning as he goes while Stonebreaker wails away with punches on a somewhat distracted Enigma. Stonebreaker then whips Musashi to the ropes, the momentum definately his. Paris mischeviously trips up the Enigma as he comes by, causing him to land hard on his face. Musashi gets up just in time to see an opportunistic Stonebreaker charging at him, so he dips down and pulls the top rope down with him as he goes, causing Stonebreaker to fly out in an accidental plancha towards Paris... and hit him, bowling both over! Big pop!] TD: What a great move! Musashi plays his enemies against each other! SR: At least the guy's starting to do something other than use restholds. [Paris, being fresher springs up first and angrily hurls Stonebreaker towards the steel steps, letting him take a nasty header. Dave D'Amato yells at the young Texan, warning him of fines, but isn't prepared to call for a DQ because... well, because he's Dave D'Amato. Paris "helps" Stonebreaker into the ring, and holds up his hands to profess his innocence. He turns back to the action, but doesn't have time to see anything. Doesn't have time because he turns to take a Musashi missile dropkick right to the face. BIG pop!] TD: Musashi is ticked off again, and we're seeing the other side of     him... conversely, nothing has worked for Ronnie Paris so far. SR: That was a disqualification right there, Dross. You know it. [As soon as Musashi is back to his feet and has exacted some revenge on Paris, the crazed look seems to drain away from him... his composure is almost visible as it comes back, and he calmly rolls back into the ring to finish his match. Paris, meanwhile, just rolls around on the mats clutching at his face, trying to get his bearings back. Stonebreaker by now was just getting up, so he didn't notice Musashi sneaking up behind him and locking him up for a belly-to-back suplex. When he starts to follow through, however, he pulls Stonebreaker much higher into the air then expected and drives him back onto his head!] TD: Backdriver suplex by Musashi, and the fans are eating it up! He sets     up another... and hits! Here comes a third... and hits! SR: Come on, someone, stop him! [It doesn't look as if anyone will, as Musashi starts his way towards the top rope, signalling for the Starsault Press which drives the fans into a frenzy. As he makes his way up, a rowdy fan in the front row draws away D'Amato's attention by trying to hop the barrier and get into the ring. Musashi continues towards his perch...] TD: Hold on, I recognize that fan... SR: Paris with the chair! [WHAM! Musashi slumps down as Paris' forgotten steel chair bounces off his head, but he doesn't fall off the buckles yet. Paris draws back to fire with the chair a second time, but as he does someone moves out of the crowd like a flash to grab it, stopping him from swinging.] TD: That "fan" was a Paris security guard... it was a ruse! SR: Wait, who's this idiot grabbing the chair? Blast him, Ronnie, blast him! [Paris wheeled around to do just that, lashing out with the chair before he knew who was stopping him. The Enigma topples off the top ropes on his own and falls to the mat, just as Paris turns to look down at the man he just struck. To look into the face of his own father. Immediately a look of shock crosses Paris' face as he sees what he's done... the idea repellent to him. He falls to his knees, starring at his hands in shock as if to say "What have I done?". A single tear rolls down his cheek.] TD: Ronnie Paris has accidentally laid out his own father, and he could     not have wanted it to happen this way. Sure he got some revenge on     Musashi... but at what cost? SR: Well, it seems to... wait a minute, in the ring! [Everyone's attention is directed back to the ring, where a limp Stonebreaker covers an even limper Musashi. Dave D'Amato is finally back into position, so he makes a count: 1 -- 2 -- 3! Ding! Ding! Ding!] SR: I don't believe any of this, Dross! TD: Musashi goes down in defeat, but this whole match was marred by     Ronnie Paris and his unfortunate striking of his own father. Neither     man in the ring is moving much, and Paris is shaken. He doesn't know     what to do. [Sparkplug Lee chimes in to make things official, and just the sound of his mic being turned on is enough to jar the younger Paris back to reality. He takes off running up the aisle and doesn't stop as the announcement is made.] SL: Ladies and gentlemen, the winner of this match is Christopher Stonebreaker! [D'Amato is about to raise the Cajun's hand when he sees Kevin Paris, groggy and trying to get to his feet. The ref recognizes him but has no idea why he's there, so he walks over to the outside of the ring apron to find out what's up and offer assistance. Meanwhile, Stonebreaker and Musashi have both somehow made it to their feet, but neither is particularly cogniscent. Stonebreaker sees only an opponent in front of him, not totally sure the match is over, and whips Musashi towards the ropes... the ropes D'Amato is resting against.] SR: Referee bump! Dave goes flying and... shit, don't tell me! [D'Amato's flight seems uneventful until it's clear where he's going to land, that being on the unmanned French announce table. Those who see it in time start to chant "Table!" as the poor ref hits, and then goes through the table, the massive thing splitting in two as debris, monitors, and other equipment flies in every direction.] SR: Referee table shot! Classic! TD: This is bad... Dave D'Amato just went right through the French     announcers' table! I'm almost glad our foreign announce team wasn't able to make it to the arena here tonight! SR: Sure, Dross. You never want to smack into a Frenchman like that. TD: What's wrong with the French? SR: Should I start with the communicable stuff? [In the ring, Musashi's momentum was slowed down enough by the accident that he could avoid colliding with Stonebreaker. Both men suddenly seemed to realize the match was over, so from their they started to leave uneventfully as a stretcher team made a hasty entrance to pick up D'Amato. Kevin Paris was by now on his feet, and fortunately didn't seem to be seriously hurt.] TD: This started out as a great technical match, but towards the end it     got... SR: Good. The word you're looking for is good. TD: Does this really settle anything? Lots of questions remain, first and foremost being the health of David D'Amato... our thoughts are with him and his family at this time, let's hope it's nothing serious. SR: Well, those stretcher guys do their job well, he should be okay.     Anyone who's ever wrestled can tell you that those guys know their stuff. TD: Secondly, what will become of Ronnie Paris? He accidentally assaulted his flesh and blood, his father... will this cause a repentance? SR: I hope not, I was finally starting to like him. [Pop from the crowd as, just when the stretcher crew is almost out of sight, D'Amato's eyes open and he offers a weak thumbs up.] TD: That's a good sign to see. Finally, what role does Chris Stonebreaker play in this whole mess and what, if any, will he continue to play? SR: I have a question too. More important than all of those. TD: Yes? SR: Will we see Thunder-Kowalski tonight? TD: We're still waiting on the response of the IIWF World Heavyweight Champion to the challenge laid down by Brody Thunder at the top of the show tonight -- and we hope to have an answer before we go off the air! SR: The Fury's on his way, Dross. I just know it. TD: Be that as it may, it's time for more tag team action here tonight, as the Down Boys -- or should I say Damage Inc.? -- go up against the Fabulous Ones. Let's get up to the ring. ________ ______ | || |\ \ /\ / /| __|.................................................. | || | \ v v / | __| Down Boys vs. Fabulous Ones |_||_| \_/\_/ |_|.................................................... WRITER: MS [Sparkplug Lee enters the ring, hold the microphone up to his mouth, speaks, and... nothing.  He tugs on the microhpone cord, and sees that it's been pulled out.  He tries to motion for someone to connect the microhpone cord, but no one is availble to help.  Finally, he leaves the ring to connect the cord himself.] TD: Please bear with us here, folks. We're a little shorthanded due to the accident. SR: Ten to one says he'll electrocute himself. [Apparently not, as he re-enters the ring, tapping the microhpone and causing a loud, piercing feedback, forcing everyone to hold their ears. With an embarassed shrug, he begins.] SL: Ladies and gentlemen, this next match is a one-fall tag team affair, with a twenty minute time limit.  Introducing first... ["Beautiful Girls" by Van Halen rips through the arena air, as Ms. Miki dressed in a black wet leather jacket that's buttoned up, but showing a bit of cleavage, with black spandex pants, and black high heels, walks out to a huge ovation, mostly from the men in attendance.  She enters the ring and is handed the microphone.] MM: IIWF, ogenki desu ka? [The crowd lets out a huge cheer, not knowing what she just said.  The men don't care if she speaks or not, only that she's here.]      I'd like to introduce two of the most fabulous human specimens ever      to grace the squared circle.  They've come all the way here from the Land of the Rising Sun, Nagoya, Japan, to bring the Double Eye      better ratings, and to bring in more females to the shows.  So      without further ado, here are... [Ms. Miki pauses as a look of trouble falls upon face.] MM: But, before I bring out every geneticist's dream of the perfect     human being, I'd like to give all the ladies in this building and at     home a warning.  These two men are a rarity, especially in the     IIWF.  They possess amazing ability, talent, and intelligence, all     wrapped up in a perfect package of beautiful muscle, unlike what     you're used to.  They aren't your overweight, potato chip eating,     Seven-Eleven robbing, beer bellied, minimum wage making, channel     clicking king, the husbands and boyfriends you spend your time     with.  They are the complete opposite.  So, don't make plans to     leave your life partners to go for something like this, because they     are the rarity, not the norm.  So, with that out of the way, let the     eye-candy begin.  They are everything a man wants to be, and     everything a woman wants to be with.  Here are "The Universal     Heartthrob" Agito Nakajima, and "Sweet" Sho Satsuma... the FABULOUS     ONES! ["Kiss of Death" by Dokken blares over the PA.  Agito and Sho come out to a huge heel pop that, mixed with the ladies' cheering, nearly drowns out the music.  Agito is wearing his normal oriental robe while Sho is wearing his black tuxedo jacket with tails.  They both enter the ring. Ms. Miki climbs out to the floor as Agito very teasingly, to the female fans anticipation, then delight, takes off his robe showing his amazingly ripped upper body.  Sho takes off his tuxedo jacket.  Both men walk to the middle of the ring and start posing.  The women eat it up. Flash bulbs go off from all over the arena.  They continue posing until "Kiss of Death" fades out.  At which time they prepare for their opponents.] SL: And their opponents... [He's interrupted as Awesome T makes his way into the ring, grabbing the microphone from Sparkplug, who looks completely lost.] TD: It doesn't look like anyone is giving Sparkplug the chance to speak tonight. SR: Can you blame them? AT: Ladies and gentlemen... introducing the rightful owners of the IIWF World Tag Team Championship... being led down the aisle by the lovely and vivacious Hoochiemama, at a total combined weight of 628 pounds... "Ace" Adam Peterson and "Mad Dog" Danny Oliver... DAMAGE INCORPORATED! ["Ambitions of a Rider" by 2Pac blares over the PA as Hoochiemama, Dan Oliver, and Adam Peterson walk to ringside.  Oliver constantly flexes during his walk to ringside, while Peterson walks indifferently. Hoochiemama is dressed in a tight-fitting red kimono, with black Japanese lettering on it.  Awesome T smiles and waits for his team, takes their cardboard "temporary" IIWF World Tag Team titles, holds them up high for everyone to see, "polishes" them off, then holds the ring ropes open for Hoochiemama, as the two of them remain at ringside for the match. Ding! Ding! Ding! Danny Oliver and Sho Satsuma enter the ring and lock up.  Sho hip tosses "Mad Dog", then starts to strut across the ring.  When he reaches the opposite rope, he turns around and flips Oliver the bird with both hands.] TD: Danny Oliver does not look happy at Sho. SR: Why?  Did he tell him that Whitesnake broke up? [They lock up again, and Oliver clubs Sho with a forearm to the back.  A bodyslam, followed by a kick to the ribs of Sho.  Then he whips Sho Satsuma to the ropes, and picks him up on the rebound for a bearhug.  Sho breaks out of it, hiptosses Oliver again, and starts to do another "Nagoya Strut" across the ring.  He only gets about halfway through his strut when Peterson enters the ring and bulldogs him to the mat.  Oliver starts to pick up Sho again, only to be caught with a side kick.  Sho makes the tag, and Agito steps into the ring, grabs Oliver in a front facelock, and drops him with a suplex.  Agito poses for the crowd.] SR: Stop trying to get Troy to leave Quigley, and end this match! TD: You seem upset by something, Steve. SR: Damn straight.  No ring girls to bring me my sandwhiches, and this match is keeping us from seeing Kowalski put the cowpoke Thunder away for the second week in a row.  [Agito, meanwhile, has been stomping Oliver all over the ring.  He lifts him up for a powerbomb, only Oliver manages to use the momentum to flip over, pick up Agito, and do a standing spinebuster on the Fabulous One. Oliver tries to look extremely mean as he whips Agito to the ropes, and stuns him with a powerslam.  Then he picks Agito on his shoulders, and starts to walk to a neutral corner.] TD: Is he nuts?  Agito outweighs him by almost fifty pounds, and he's trying to carry him up the turnbuckle? SR: Hey, maybe it's the "in" thing for these gay tag teams to try moves they have no prayer of getting right. [Oliver gets up one turnbuckle, and startss up the second when he loses his balance, causing both men to fall.  Peterson and Awesome T shake their heads as Agito gets up first, picks up Oliver over his shoulders, grins, and starts to walk up the turnbuckle.  He gets to the second turnbuckle, then falls back in a Somoan Drop.  He covers for a kickout, then tags in Sho again.  As Agito holds Oliver's arms behind his back, Sho steps back, aims a superkick... and nails Agito, as Oliver ducks out of the way. Oliver rolls over, and finally tags in Peterson for the first time in the match.  As Peterson enters the ring, Awesome T calls Oliver down to ringside.] SR: Dammit!  Where are my sandwhiches? TD: Awesome T trying to explain to Daniel Oliver that he shouldn't be trying all these power moves. [Peterson nails Sho with a rocker dropper for a two count, only to be nailed by an elbow from Agito.  Referee Earl Alfonso orders Agito out of the ring.  Agito looks around the ring, grins, then bounces off the ropes and does on plancha...] TD: Agito nails Awesome T!  The manager of the Down Boys was just crushed by a flying Agito Nakajima, and he looks out. SR: [in a monotone] Oh, goody.  One gay tag team hit the other's manager.  Yee-ha.  I'm so excited. [Oliver was standing next to Awesome T when he was nailed, and starts attacking Agito with a series of kicks and elbowdrops.  Inside the ring, Peterson whips Sho into the ropes, and nails him with a dropkick.  He covers for a two count, then drops an elbow that misses when Satsuma rolls out of the way.  Sho bounces off the ropes and nails a legdrop, then drags Peterson over to the corner, climbs up one turnbuckle, and leaps off for a splash and a two-count.] TD: Agito and Oliver are having a brawl out on the floor, but Alfonso is trying to watch the legal men in the ring... Steve? SR: Yo, vendor!  I'll take two hot dogs... charge them to Tim Dross.  I'm sure you have a tab for him somewhere. TD: [imitating Steve]  Yo, vendor!  I'll take three beers... charge them to Steve Roberts.  I'm sure you have a tab for him somewhere. SR: Not bad.  There's hope for you yet. [Hoochiemama checks on the fallen Awesome T, while Ms. Miki makes fun of the Down Boy's manager.  This brings Hoochiemama over toward Ms. Miki, where they start exchanging words, then start shoving each other.] SR: Cat fight!  We finally have some potential in this match! [Alfonso finally goes over to try and separate the women.  On the outside of the ring, Agito picks up Dan Oliver in a gorilla slam, and drops him on the cement.  He then rolls into the ring, and surprises Adam Peterson with a sledgehammer to the back of the head.  He and Sho Satsuma nod, and Agito heads up to the top turnbuckle while Sho picks up Peterson in a vertical suplex.  With Peterson hanging upside down, Sho hands him to Agito, who takes Peterson and powerslams him down to the mat.] TD: The Dai Itai!  Or, in english, the Big Hurt!  Peterson looks out of it, but Alfonso is still trying to separate Hoochiemama and Ms. Miki. SR: Can't blame him.  Way to go, Earl! TD: Wait a second... here comes Dan Oliver! [Oliver, perched on the top turnbuckle, turns around and does a picture-perfect moonsault onto Agito.  Without breaking a stride, he bounces off the ropes and delivers a leg lariat to Sho Satsuma.  Agito clothesline him, but Peterson has recovered enough, and a four-way brawl has broken out.] TD: Dan Oliver finally has abandoned his power game to go back to the high-flying moves that made the Down Boys so successful, and... [Simon O'Neal walks down to ringside.  He ignores all of the fans as he walks up to Ms. Miki... and past her, not stopping until he is near the announcer's table.  He doesn't say anything, but watches the brawl intensely.] TD: [to O'Neal]  What are you doing here?  [He doesn't answer] SR: Probably scoping out Miki.  Or getting away from his gay partner. [All four men continue to brawl.  Peterson throws Sho out of the ring, and they deliver a double backdrop to Agito.  Alfonso finally separates the women, and Awesome T is back up, shouting encouragement to his men. Oliver makes the cover, but only gets a two count as Sho comes in to break the count and start another four-way brawl.  Outside the ring, Simon borrows an extra headset, still standing behind the other announcers.] TD: Where's your partner? SO: [shrugging] He couldn't be here. SR: Just as well.  You don't need that anvil hanging around you. SO: [shaking his head] Paulie ain't that bad.  He's just confused about a lot of things... like life in general. TD: Well, in the ring... SO: [interrupting] You know, the Fabulous Ones really don't like me, do they? TD: I'd say no, they don't like you. SO: And I'd be nuts to go into the ring and attack them. SR: Two of them, one of you.  Bad odds. SO: I agree. TD: Back in the ring... SO: Besides... if I attacked them, the ref would disqualify the Damage Down Boys, or whatever they're calling themselves, and the Fabulous Ones would win. TD: [tired of the interruptions] I see you've been reading the rule book. SO: Well, hey... I can't let that happen. [Simon O'Neal tosses off his headset, and rolls into the ring.  As Ms. Miki scream at the Fabulous Ones, O'Neal taps Earl Alfonso on the shoulder.  The referee turns around, O'Neal smirks, waves to the referee, and...] TD: O'Neal just nailed Dan Oliver with a fist!  The referee is calling for the bell. SR: Not bad.  He makes sure the team he doesn't like loses. [Ding! Ding! Ding! Agito and Sho, who don't look happy, start to chase O'Neal, who ducks out of the ring.  He starts to head out of the arena as fast as he can, but is caught from behind by an Adam Peterson clothesline.  As O'Neal and Peterson start to brawl, the Fabulous Ones and Dan Oliver catch up and start ganging up on him, four on one.] TD: This is a strange partnership.  I guess the Down Boys didn't want to win this way, or aren't happy with being attacked by O'Neal, and are taking it out on him. SR: Ingrates.  He gives them the win, and this is how they treat him? TD: O'Neal's getting something from his trunks! [Some powder is thrown, and Agito is blinded.  But the other three are still kicking at O'Neal, who has fallen to the ground and is barely able to defend himself.  After a few seconds, Paul Wong, carrying a steel chair, walks out from the locker room and heads for the beating.] TD: He's taking his sweet time to help out his partner. SR: Well, he's the gay member of a tag team, dumb as a rock, and a suck-up.  Do you expect anyhting less? [Wong comes up to the group, and pulls Sho Satsuma out of the way.  The Down Boys see the chair, and back off long enough for Wong to pick up O'Neal, and carry him back to the locker room.] SL: The winner of this match, by a disqualification...  The DOWN BOYS! [Peterson, Oliver, Hoochiemama, and Awesome T celebrate as they head to the back, while the Fabulous Ones walk the other way, stopping only to pose for a few female fans. Cut back to the broadcast table at ringside.] TD: Well, the rivalry between the Machines and the Fabulous Ones continues unabated -- some degree of payback here tonight as Simon O'Neal costs the Fabs a match. But can the Machines work together well enough to bring them out of their current funk? We'll find out when they finally meet the Fabulous Ones in the ring at Snow Brawl! Right now, however, we must get to our next encounter... as the returning Lord Byron takes on the bizarre Meatman. Let's get up to the ring! ________ ______ | || |\ \ /\ / /| __|.................................................. | || | \ v v / | __| Lord Byron vs. The Meatman |_||_| \_/\_/ |_|.................................................... WRITER: JH [The camera cuts to the ring, where Sparkplug Lee raises the microphone to his lips.] SL: And now the first competitor in this matchup... Tonight accompanied by his son, Meatboy... Hailing from Emeryville, California and weighs in at 274 pounds... Here is Jimmy "The Meatman" Steeeeeeellllleeeee! [Big Meatman pop! The crowd begins to chant "Meat...meat...meat...meat" as a meat delivery truck backs into the head of the aisle! The crowd, seeing the emergence of the Meatboy, start up the volleying chant of "Meat...Boy...Meat...Boy." In a frenzy as they hear the warning beeps, the back doors swings open and mist swirls out of the back of the truck. From behind large racks of meat emerges -- The Meatman and Meatboy. Making their way down the aisle, it's evident Meatboy is carrying a large backpack.] SR: Meat! Meat! Meat! TD: What do you think is in that backpack, Steve? SR: I just answered your question. Meat! Flank steak probably. SL: His opponent... Former Intercontinental Champion... Hailing from Lancashire, England by way of New Orleans...Accompanied by his lovely valet Lady DeWinter... Weighing in at 265 pounds... Here is Lord Byronnnnnnnn!! [Huge Byron Pop! Byron is a handsome, and still fairly young looking, wrestler, with long blond hair, tied back in a short ponytail, and piercing deep grey-blue eyes. His face has the classic profile, marred only by a small scar above his left eye, a constant reminder of one of his greatest battles. As he emerges into the aisle, he is dressed in plain black loose fitting trousers, tucked into black leather calf boots with a gold buckled belt around his waist. He also wears a loose fitting white cotton shirt in the Victorian style, which he is removing as he stride toward the ring. Lady DeWinter, lovely as always, walks at his side.] SL: The referee for this match is none other that Earl Alfonsooooo! [About three guys clap and the rest laugh as Earl nearly trips climbing into the ring.] SR: When's the last time Earl hit the gym, Tim? Guy looks like he just inhaled a child. TD: I think everyone's a little bloated after the holidays. Although, Lord Byron looks in tip top shape. With that accident earlier tonight, we're a little short staffed. Earl is doing us a favor and picking up an extra match. SR: Just looks like he's picking up a few extra pounds to me. He's lucky Meatman doesn't throw him in his meat locker. I bet his kid would take a bite outta him, too. [Byron sizes up his opponent, realizing quickly that this is not your regular Joe. Meatman, on the other hand, is getting some last minute advice from his son, before letting the boy out of the ring. Alfonso calls for the bell -- Ding! Ding! Ding! -- and we are underway.] TD: This is a pivotal match for both men. Byron, finally in shape mentally and physically, needs to gauge his progress against one of the young and up and coming talent. SR: Don't forget the man, the meat, the legend. Meatman actually pinned our beloved champion Steve Kowalski at that six man tag match a month ago. Any man that gets a pin over the Fury is okay by me. Brody Thunder never did it and he was voted the number one wrestler since I laced them up. The sport has never been the same. TD: And we are all thankful. [His Lordship hits Jim Steele with some stinging reverse knife edges to start off the match, seemingly having no effect against the big man. Waving his finger 'No' at Byron, Meatman grabs Byron and forces him into the nearest corner and peppers him with left and rights. Byron rolls out of the corner before any major damage is done.] SR: You can't beat the meat! Aw... go ahead. Beat it anyway. Tim does! TD: I do not... I... I'm not going to bother. Byron, testing the waters, with the Meatman -- and learning that mixing it up is a no. Meatman has his dukes up looking like he would be glad to trade a few. [Lord Byron will have none of the fisticuffs, sidesteps a punch and brings a knee to the gut of his meaty competitor. A doubled over Meatman falls prey to a swinging neck breaker. Big Byron pop! Leading him up by his hair, Byron sets up for a vertical suplex.] TD: Meatman refuses to be lifted and... OH! Drives his fist into the ribs of Byron! Again! He has Byron up and DUMPS HIM OVER THE TOP! [Big Meatman pop as the Lord is sent over the top rope. The agile Byron, though, lands on his feet and berates himself for trying allowing that to happen. Meatboy, on the opposite side of the ring, leads the "Meat... Meat... Meat!" chant.] SR: Boy... Boy... Boy! TD: There is something about the Meatman that drops your IQ lower than it already is. SR: You can't touch me now. I'm in my meat zone! [After Referee Alfonso backs Meat man away from the ropes, Byron rolls in and prepares himself. Looking to lock up in the middle of the ring, Big Jim is taken down by an armdrag takedown. Quick as a cat, Byron drops a hard elbow to the chest of the Meaty one. The crowd picks it up a pitch, as Byron executes a beautiful standing dropkick on the Meatman. Byron wastes no time in locking on a...] TD: Big boot to the head of Byron! Meatman can't compete on the wrestling plateau of Byron but he can slobberknock with the best of them! SR: Astute observation o' master of the mouth. Chuck roundhouse by the colossal king of beef! Ouch! Byron took that one on the London Broil! [In Laymen terms, Meatman has just clipped Byron in the chest and followed with a meaty forearm to the chin. Byron can't back away fast enough and is caught in the grasp of the burly butcher. Byron's vertebrae reverberates, as he is rocketed to the corner post. Meatman backs up for...] TD: Meatman retreats to the opposite turnbuckle and charges! He launched himself at Byron! Byron will be... SR: Meat! Meat! [BLEEP]! [Byron dodges the impact. Meatman strikes the corner with amazing force, stumbling forward. Byron, using the big man's momentum, hiptosses him over. Byron is quick to advance and follow up with a savate kick. Only this time, Meatman is prepared. Avoiding the kick and clasping the waist, Meatman hits with an sloppy belly to back suplex! Huge Meaty Pop! Unfortunately for the referee...] TD: Steele just dropped Byron onto referee Earl Alfonso! Alfonso is demolished! This is a horrible turn of events, we don't enough staff as it is. We need someone down here to call this thing! SR: He was just in the way anyways. Maybe if he didn't eat so much for the holidays, he might have moved outta the way. Hit him with the sausage-sault! [A scoop slam later, Byron is on his back. Meatman standing over him falls for a crotch drop. Byron Pop!] TD: Byron wiggled free! Meatman tried to Smother His Onions, but Byron escaped! Byron is up and to the ropes... SR: So is Meatman! Here comes the Meathook! Decapitate him, Meaty! TD: Byron ducks! SR: Damn! TD: The rebound...Byron wraps around for the crucifix...NO! [Huge Byron Pop!] Backspin DDT! Meatman is stunned and clutching his head! SR: What the...? I was supposed to get the Meathook tonight! Already this new year sucks. First it was Dick Clark's Rockin' New Year, now this! [Lord Byron makes his way over to the Meatman. The crowd is now on its feet as the most feared submission hold in wrestling is applied to Jimmy Steele.] TD: It's locked! Aristoclutch! Meatman cannot escape! Meatman cannot escape! SR: That move is null and void right now! Earl's sleeping on the job and until he wakes up, we'll never know if that move is worth the price of admission. [The crowd is rattling the security railing. Lady DeWinter is pounding the mat. Meatboy is calling for his father to break the hold. Byron is screaming for a ref to call the submission. It is chaos at "ten". But suddenly the chaos level goes to "eleven" when Luke Steele hits the ring.] TD: The "Real Deal" has burst into the ring and is all over Byron! His lordship is overwhelmed by the attack. SR: "Meals on Wheels" does have the same last name as good old Meaty Bone. We all have skeletons in the closet. [Before we are forced to here of the ones in Roberts closet, the crowd howls loudly! Luke Steele's patented Floating DDT turns off Byron's switch. Steele rolls the Meatman over on the prone Byron. He then drags the unconscious Alfonso over and begins slapping him until he awakens. The groggy referee wakes to see a cover and reacts naturally. 1 - 2 - 3! Huge Heel Pop!] TD: Luke Steele just won that match for the Meatman! For Mr. Steele! Uncle? Cousin? Brother? I want to know! SR: Who's your Daddy! Who's your Daddy! Who's your Daddy! [At this proclamation, the Lil' Soundbiters follow the old Mad Dog chant, "Who's your Daddy!... Who's your Daddy!... Who's your Daddy!"] TD: Horrible, just horrible! In his first victory Jimmy Steele pinned Steve Kowalski and now has beaten Lord Byron, but not without outside interference! [Face Pop! Charles Scheffield charges the ring and takes it to Luke Steele via the right hook. Scheffield drops Luke with a high knee. It's not long before the Meatman is up and, joined by his new ally, starts double teaming the lone Scheffield. Alfonso, already roughed up, can't stop the beating but tries anyway. Amid this circus sideshow both Meatboy and Lady DeWinter seemed terrified by these actions.] SR: Boy, all this and a bag of chips! Who'd a thunk it? [Monster Deathbringer Pop!] TD: The Deathbringer, that's who! DB is taking on both men! We are out of officials and we need to contain this! [The Jobber Justice Squad are racing to the ring. The three man brawl inside is wild, arm swinging wildly. Too wildly! Huge injured Ref Pop! Accidentally Deathbringer strikes Alfonso, sending over the top and to the floor in what can only be decried as a vicious bump. The Squad takes a few minutes to separate the parties, but not without casualties.] TD: In a sad, sad scene, Alfonso has been placed on a stretcher and carried out. Sparkplug is not even going to announce the winner, as he is helping carry out Earl. Short on EMT -- now out of referees. Our prayers are with Earl Alfonso tonight. SR: Not me. My prayers are with the #3 horse. TD: Well, it is now time for our main event, but we are completely out of referees! Between the bus crash and the injuries sustained this evening, there is no one left to officiate the Intercontinental Championship match between Chris Quigley and Duncan Macbeth. SR: I'll do it. TD: You? SR: Yep. I'm ready. TD: But you despise Chris Quigley. SR: I'm hurt, Dross. You don't think that I could put aside my petty differences with the champion and call a fair match? TD: No, I don't. SR: Well, you're right. But I'm willing to pretend if it means getting a chance to cost him the title. TD: You are a strange man, Steve Roberts. [pause] I'm being told that while the Special Concerns Committee tries to work out a solution to this problem, Larry Morton is with the IIWF President, who has news about Snow Brawl. Larry? [Cut to Larry Morton standing in a backstage corridor, next to the bespectacled IIWF President.] LM: Thanks, guys. With me at this time is the esteemed President of the     IIWF, Mr. Daniel Spreadbury. Before we talk about the situation concerning the lack of IIWF officials at tonight's event, perhaps we should talk about Snow Brawl, which is just two weeks away. DS: Absolutely, Larry. When I arrived at the arena tonight, I had no idea that we would experience such a personnel crisis -- I was here merely to oversee the drawing of lots for the "Lethal Lottery" matches coming up at Snow Brawl on January 17. LM: Allow me to explain the rules of these matches. Each team consists of three men, randomly drawn backstage here at the Coliseum earlier tonight, and these teams will square off in elimination tag team matches, until all the members of one team have been eliminated from the match, by pinfall, submission, or by being thrown out of the ring over the top rope. If more than one man remains on the winning team when the opposing team has been eliminated, we have a sudden death match involving those men, until one man is left standing. The three winners will then go on to a triangle match later in the night, the winner of which will be crowned the King of the Snow Brawl, and who will be able to challenge any wrestler in the IIWF for the entire month of February! DS: That's correct, Larry. It should be a very exciting event. Now, without further ado, please allow me to announce the three "Lethal Lottery" tag team matches: [Specially created graphics appear on the screen complete with images of the wrestlers as the IIWF President announces the partnerships:] Lord Byron, the Meatman & Charles Scheffield vs. "Real Deal" Luke Steele, Deathbringer & Christopher Stonebreaker Edmund Fitzgerald, Tragedy & Shadoe Rage vs. Icehawk, Richard "Moxy" Blue & Ike Sampson Duncan Macbeth, Derek Mota & "Rocket Man" Timothy N. Turner vs. Serge Annis, Mad Dog Watkins & "To Excess" Rick Williams [Cut back to Larry and the IIWF President.] LM: There are certain to be some conflicts within those teams, Mr. President. DS: That's the nature of the beast, Larry. They don't call this event the "Lethal Lottery" for nothing. LM: When you add these three matches to the tag team battle royal -- the winners of which go on, of course, to face the IIWF World Tag Team Champions later in the night -- the Ladder Match between Ronnie Paris and the "Enigma" Takezo Musashi, and that huge main event rematch pitting Steve "the Fury" Kowalski against the "Lone Wolf" Brody Thunder, Snow Brawl is certainly shaping up to be a tremendous event! DS: And there will be more announcements about this huge pay-per-view over the next week on IIWF programming. LM: Okay, Mr. President -- if we may return to tonight's officiating crisis. I understand you've just come out of an emergency teleconference with the IIWF Executive Committee. DS: Yes, Larry, what we have here is an unprecedented situation, in which every available IIWF referee has been rendered unable to perform his duty in one form or another.  Obviously some of this was     unavoidable, but I will be having a meeting with the wrestlers of     the IIWF first thing Monday morning regarding the severe     repercussions of manhandling an IIWF official. LM: Well, as you know we still have the scheduled main event, that     long-awaited rematch between Chris Quigley and Duncan Macbeth for     the Intercontinental title.  What will become of that match? DS: Basically we've discussed the three options available to us.  We     could send one of our other officials out to referee the match, but     given what has happened tonight, and the volatile nature of the     Quigley/Macbeth situation, I am unwilling to put any of our staff     members at that kind of risk.  We could also postpone this match     until some other time, but we feel that the fans, and the     participants have waited long enough for this match to take place,     and if there's any way possible, we're going to make sure it     happens tonight. LM: So it seems that you've chosen the third option.  What would that     be? DS: There is one other man in the IIWF who has proven he has the ability     to referee a championship match, and the physical conditioning to     handle any unfortunate circumstances such as those that have     happened here tonight. LM: One other man...?  Wait a minute, you can't seriously be... DS: I know how it sounds at first, but at Midsummer Madness he proved     that, no matter what kind of personal animosity he may have with the     competitors, he will do everything in his power to ensure a fair     match with a fair winner.  And when we approached him with this a     few minutes ago, it was with the stipulation that if he in any way     showed bias toward either of the competitors, he would be banned     from the IIWF for life.  And he has agreed to that.  So under those     conditions... your referee for the main event will be Joe Petrow. LM: I... I don't know what to say, that's quite a decision.  Mr.     President, I know you have other pressing issues right now, so we     thank you for taking the time out to inform us of this. DS: My pleasure, Larry. LM: There you have it, "Sychosys" Joe Petrow has been pressed into duty     as the referee for the Quigley vs. Macbeth match... and I can't     imagine either of them will be too pleased about that.  Back to you     guys! [The camera switches back to Tim and Steve, who look more than a bit shocked.] TD: Oh my. Joe Petrow is going to be an official again. If this match wasn't going to be strange enough already, it certainly will be now. SR: This is great! TD: Why? SR: This is going to be the end of Chris Quigley and Crazy Joe, all at once! TD: How do you figure that? SR: Petrow hates Quigley, almost as much as I do. There is no way he is going to be able to call this match down the middle. So he will screw over Quigley, and get himself banned. TD: But Petrow also dislikes Duncan Macbeth. SR: Yes, he dislikes Duncan. But when you hate Chris Quigley, it eats away at your soul. It changes how you look at life. It becomes a blackness inside of you. A simple Scottish twit doesn't even come close to that. TD: Umm... okay. Let's go to the ring. ________ ______ | || |\ \ /\ / /| __|.................................................. | || | \ v v / | __| IIWF INTERCONTINENTAL CHAMPIONSHIP MATCH: |_||_| \_/\_/ |_| "Quickstrike" Chris Quigley vs. Duncan Macbeth ....................................................................... WRITER: DH [The camera switches to Sparkplug Lee, who is obviously disturbed by the change in referees, since he hadn't practiced it this way. Distracted, he stumbles going through the ropes, but regains his balance. This draws an amazed cheer from the crowd.] SL: The next match is for the Intercontinental Championship! [Pop!] SL: First, let me introduce the special referee ... "Sychosys" Joe Petrow! [Most of the crowd falls into a stunned silence, but the Sychopaths go wild, sprinkling kiwi seeds under their hero's feet as he walks to the ring. Petrow, though, doesn't even seem to notice. Dressed in normal referee's attire, he walks to the ring quietly, ignoring the crowd, and softly humming to himself. Something about "Champions of the West". When he arrives, he takes the microphone from Sparkplug.] JP: Ladies and gentlemen, once again I have deemed it necessary to     employ the rule stated in Section 4, Paragraph 10, subsection 1,     which allows me to appoint three judges to determine a winner in     the event the time limit expires.  Therefore, your judges for this     match are... Sparkplug Lee, IIWF Vice President Jim Jividen, and     Vinny, the IIWF Janitor! [Slight pop, and after several seconds, VP Jividen and Vinny walk down the aisle.  Some Sychopaths cheer, "Vinny!  Vinny!", while some smarks chant "Please don't go!", a clear reference to the rumors that Vinny may be jumping to another league due to a lack of appreciation in the IIWF.] SL: First, the challenger, hailing from Scotland, and weighing in at 270lbs, I give you Duncan Macbeth! ["Tubthumping" by Chumbawamba strikes up, and the fans go wild, cheering and dancing. The camera picks up Duncan in the back, where he is standing with Timothy Turner, Edmund Fitzgerald and a wheelchair-bound Derek Mota. He slaps hands with all three, then heads out into the arena. Duncan's fans wave the tartan swatches, but he pays them no mind, alternating between glaring at Petrow and watching for a sneak attack. He reaches the ring in one piece, though, and gets right into the referee's face, obviously daring him to mess up his title shot. Petrow just nods and leans against the turnbuckles.] SL: Next, your champion, hailing from Corner Brook, Newfoundland, Canada, and weighing in at 238lbs, this is "Quickstrike" Chris Quigley! [Massive heel pop, drowning out the music. Quigley and Steve Manning come through the curtain, faces contorted with fury. Trained lip readers can tell that Manning is telling Quigley to walk out on the match, but Quigley is refusing. When they get to ringside, Manning takes up a position next to the apron, but the champion jumps into the ring and starts to scream at Petrow. Sychosys just nods until Quigley finishes, then says "Hey, you do your job, and I'll do mine!" and signals for Sparkplug to ring the bell. DING! DING! DING!] TD: And we are underway! SR: No, we are not. [As the champion makes his way toward Macbeth, the big Scot holds up his hand, points to Manning, and asks "Is he staying?" When Quigley nods, Macbeth makes a gesture toward the back, and Edmund Fitzgerald and Timothy Turner come to ringside. Both men are armed - TNT with his infamous iron bar, and Fitz with his equally infamous oar. The Cruiserweight champ is at his arrogant best, smiling at Steve Manning and tapping the iron bar on the palm of his hand. Fitzgerald, though, just looks angry with everyone, glaring at TNT just as much as at Manning and Quigley. Eventually, they take up their position -- standing about 10 feet apart, with Manning in the middle. Macbeth nods, and locks up with the champion.] TD: Duncan Macbeth thinks he has evened up the odds here, but I'm not sure that he has. SR: What are you talking about, Dross? He's got two guys out here with weapons, and Kick-Me has one unarmed nutbar. TD: But Fitzgerald isn't exactly the most stable guy in the IIWF these days, and his partner is feuding with TNT over the Cruiserweight title. And I believe that Tim Turner only truly cares about one person -- himself. I wouldn't be surprised if one of these two ends up costing Duncan Macbeth the title. [The wrestlers go into a collar-and-elbow lockup, and Macbeth easily pushes the smaller Quigley into the ropes. As Petrow breaks them, Quigley takes advantage by popping Macbeth with a right hand to the jaw. That draws a stern warning from the official, but the Canadian doesn't pay any attention, jumping on the stunned Scot with a series of kicks and punches. When he gets Macbeth to the ropes, he fires him across the ring, then meets him with a flying clothesline. Almost before the bigger man hits the mat, Quigley is atop him, locking in a painful leglock.] TD: The champion is showing that he's not going to be intimidated! SR: He's too stupid to know what intimidated means. [Macbeth starts to drag himself painfully toward the ropes, helped by the cheers of the crowd. As he gets close, Steve Manning hops up onto the apron, and starts screaming at Petrow, trying to distract him from breaking the hold. Before Fitz or TNT can even make a move at him, Sychosys takes one sideways step toward him, then fires off a perfect superkick that sends Manning flying off the apron and into the steel guardrail. As Manning oozes down the railing into a heap on the floor, Petrow calmly turns back to the wrestlers, sees that Macbeth has reached the ropes, and forces a break.] SR: Now that is the way to referee a match! Someone bring out the pooper-scooper and scrape up Steve Manning! TD: I must admit that, while that was an unorthodox move for an IIWF official, it certainly prevented any interference! [Quigley drags Macbeth to his feet, then sends him crashing back to the mat with an enzuigiri. Again he pulls the bigger man up, but this time he hooks in a suplex. He hooks the Scot's knee as he pulls him over, then bridges into a pinning position...] TD: Fisherman suplex! One ... two ... no! Macbeth kicks out! Quigley is complaining about a fast count, but he's just wrong. Joe Petrow isn't showing any signs of bias at all so far. SR: [yelling] Stop that, Joe! Screw Quigley and let's get out of here! [Quigley finally shakes his head in frustration, gets up, and heads for the top rope. He waits for Macbeth to drag himself to his feet then launches himself into the Lightning Strike!] TD: No! Duncan Macbeth ... umm ... I'm not sure what he did! But Chris Quigley is rolling around on the mat, holding his face! The champion spent too much time arguing with Joe Petrow, and that gave the challenger a chance to clear his head and... well, let's see it again! [The screen switches to a replay, which shows that Macbeth managed to duck under Quigley's fist, then grab his head and drop him into a massive jawbreaker. We then switch back to live action, where Macbeth has just slammed Quigley.] TD: A brilliant countermove by Macbeth, and obviously one that he had planned in advance! SR: When I was in my prime, I used to plan the entire match in advance. TD: How hard is it to plan "I'm going to stall until the time limit expires"? [Roberts doesn't say a word, just makes a simple hand gesture that brings out a thundering chant of "Show Your Toes! Show Your Toes!"] SR: You are a sick and twisted man, Steve Roberts. TD: I met the Twisted Woman once. Best weekend of my life. [Meanwhile, back in the ring, Duncan Macbeth has set up for his tilt-a-whirl suplex, but turned it into a backbreaker. Chris Quigley's groan as his back is impaled on Macbeth's knee is audible all over the arena. Macbeth goes for the cover...] TD: One... no, the champion has his foot in the ropes. But Timothy Turner just pushed his foot off! I'm not sure that Joe Petrow saw what TNT just... Oh! I guess he did! [In one fluid motion, Petrow pulls a canister out of his pocket, points it at TNT and sprays a thin stream of Mace right into his eyes. The Cruiserweight champion screams and falls to the ground, clawing at his face.] SR: He can't do that! What the hell kind of referee is this? TD: One who is going to take control of this match. After seeing what has happened to Steve Manning and Timothy Turner, don't you think that Edmund Fitzgerald is going to think twice about using that oar? SR: But Steve Manning deserved it! He hangs out with Chris Quigley, for crying out loud! TNT is a member of the upper class! You don't spray the upper class with Mace! TD: Well, you go tell Sychosys that! I'm sure he's still got another dose of Mace left. [After a quick look at his buddy rolling about in agony, Macbeth pulls Quigley up by his hair, and fires him into the far ropes. As Quigley bounces back toward him, he leaps...] TD: No! Duncan Macbeth went for the Claymore, but Chris Quigley was expecting it, and turned it into a powerbomb! And he's going for the Quickstriker! SR: God, no! Come on, Duncan, do something! [Quigley hooks on his dreaded finishing hold with lightning speed. He leans back as far as he can, reaching almost a 45-degree angle to the mat, and putting amazing amounts of pressure on Macbeth. The challenger, on the other hand, has gone totally limp.] TD: This could be the end! Petrow is checking to see if Duncan Macbeth wants to submit! [Quigley leans back even further, drawing a gasp out of Macbeth. The camera pans in for a close-up of the challenger's face, showing a trickle of blood out of his mouth as he bites his lip in agony.] SR: Please, no! Don't let him do this to me! Do something! He's doing something! What in the hell is he doing? [Macbeth is arching his back, lifting his head so that the back of his head is just inches from the back of Quigley's. He then reaches behind his head and jams both thumbs into the champion's eyes! Quigley's hands immediately go up to his face, causing him to lose the hold.] SR: What a move! A Greco-Roman double thumb to the eyes! That and the Asai Moonsault were my two best moves! [Both men remain on the mat for several seconds, and the crowd starts to chant "Dun-can! Dun-can!" But it is Quigley who rises first and charges at the challenger, only to be met by a vicious powerslam! This time, it is Macbeth who goes for the submission move, hooking in a Boston Crab. But after just a few seconds in the move, he runs up the turnbuckles and does a backflip over Quigley, holding onto the champ's legs as long as possible.] TD: I don't know what Duncan Macbeth calls that move, but it could have done major damage to Chris Quigley's back! But we've seen Quigley take a tremendous amount of punishment in the past without it stopping him. That's why he is one of the legends in IIWF history! SR: A legend in his own mind, maybe. [Macbeth grabs the champion's ankles, drags him to the center of the ring and pulls him into another Boston Crab. Quigley screams in pain, but violently shakes his head when Petrow asks him if he wants to give up. Steve Manning groggily tries to get into the ring, but Edmund Fitzgerald puts him into a full nelson, ending that idea.] TD: Macbeth has the Boston Crab locked in, and they are right in the middle of the ring! I don't see how Chris Quigley can possibly escape! But he refuses to submit! SR: Break him in half, Duncan! [The crowd is on its feet, screaming and waving their tartan swatches, but Quigley continues to shake his head, even as sweat and blood run into his eyes. Macbeth leans even further back, and Petrow drops down to his hands and knees, his face just inches from the champion's. The fans are so loud that Sychosys is screaming at the top of his lungs, asking Quigley if he submits. Manning is struggling desperately at ringside, but isn't able to escape Fitzgerald's grip.] TD: I can not believe the courage being shown by Chris Quigley! His back must be nearly broken, but he will not submit! SR: Good! If Macbeth snaps his spine, we'll never have to worry about him winning another title! TD: There is only about 90 seconds left before the time limit expires, and this match goes to the judges at ringside! [But that quickly becomes a moot point, as Petrow leaps to his feet and points to Sparkplug, who is so excited that he rings the bell with his microphone, causing a deafening DING! Macbeth releases the hold and throws his arms into the air, while the former champion lies face down on the mat. Edmund Fitzgerald flings Steve Manning aside and jumps into the ring to join the celebration, as does Timothy Turner, still blinking away the last of the mace. The crowd goes insane, throwing the tartans into the air.] SL: As a result of a submission, your winner, and NEW INTERCONTINENTAL CHAMPION, DUNCAN MACBETH!! [While Duncan, Fitz and TNT celebrate, Joe Petrow hands the title belt to the new champion, then calmly leaves the ring. As he does, Chris Quigley gets to his knees and gestures to Manning that he apparently did not submit.] TD: The crowd is going berserk, but Chris Quigley is claiming that he did not submit. Joe Petrow called the match right down the middle, but did he help Duncan Macbeth at the end? SR: He did not! That wuss Quigley just gave up! TD: I'm being told that we have a replay that should shed some light on the ending. Let's run that. [The picture switches to a slow-motion replay. Because of the angle, you can't see Quigley's face, but you can clearly see him shake his head as Petrow screams at him from three inches away. Three more times Petrow screams, and three more times Quigley shakes his head. After the third time, though, the champion drops his head. It appears that he might be trying to shift position to ease the pressure on his back, but in the process, he doesn't respond to the official's next question. Instantly, Petrow jumps to his feet and signals an end to the match.] TD: I don't know, Steve Roberts. That's not a definitive replay, but it didn't look like Chris Quigley submitted. I think he has a right to be angry. SR: No, he doesn't. He might not have said the words "I quit!" but he stopped responding to the referee. When you do that, he has every right to stop the match. TD: I don't know. But it looks like Chris Quigley is going to look for some answers. [Indeed, Quigley and Manning are heading for the back, both moving a little gingerly. As they get close to the curtain, Derek Mota, who is wheeling himself toward the celebration, a huge grin on his face, passes them. When the men in the ring see him, the drop down into the aisle so that he can join them.] TD: Fitz and TNT are helping Derek Mota out of the chair so that he can congratulate the new champion. What a great scene for the fans... Oh my God! SR: Yes! TD: Derek Mota just laid out Duncan Macbeth with a kick to the head with that cast! Macbeth is down! And now Mota is attacking TNT and Edmund Fitzgerald with the wheelchair! Derek Mota has just knocked out his three best friends! What is he doing?! SR: I have no bloody idea. But this is great! TD: Mota is asking for the ring microphone, but we are out of time! What a night for the mighty IIWF! We never heard from Steve Kowalski, but we have a new Intercontinental Champion! [Derek slowly looks around the ring... almost staring down each and every fan in attendance.  The fans begin pelting Mota with litter, but the self-proclaimed Heatseeker simply smiles arrogantly, and slowly begins to raise his arm.  Mota just stops and raises one arm in the air... upon his hand is worn a glove... a black, leather fingerless glove.  He clenches his fist and holds it upright in an almost familiar action.  Finally, after having soaked in the crowd reaction, he grabs the ringside mic.] TD: Can you believe this, Steve Roberts? Derek Mota turns on Duncan Macbeth, turns on Timothy N. Turner -- he has the microphone... hang on. Hang on -- we have a disturbance in the parking lot. Do we have a camera? Folks, we'll try and bring you Derek Mota's comments later -- but can we go to the parking lot? [The chaos at ringside suddenly cuts to an exterior shot of the parking lot outside the IIWF Coliseum, where two men are having a heated argument beside a still-running automobile.  As the camera crew moves in, we can see the IIWF's Special Concerns Committee chairman Poutine Janois, trying his able best to restrain IIWF World Champion Steve "The Fury" Kowalski, the IIWF World title belt protruding from a gym bag by his feet, from entering the building.  Kowalski is chewing his ever-present cigar to bits as he jabs his finger into Janois' chest, but the chairman stands his ground, and comes almost nose-to-nose with Kowalski as the two continue to argue.] PJ: You 'eard me, Kowalski... you are not scheduled to wrestle dis evening, so you are NOT wrestlin' dis evening, an' if you insist on defying my ruling I will 'ave you banned from de Coliseum!  Is dat clear? SK: I don't give a good goddamn about your rulings, Janois!  I'm the [BLEEP]in' World champ, so I'll do as I damn well please!  If that has-been Thunder thinks he's gonna shoot his mouth off to me on national TV and I'm not gonna DO something about it, he's got another thing coming!  If he wants another Skullpump so bad, then go get him out here, and I'll put his head through the stinkin' PAVEMENT for him! TD: [over headset] Oh my goodness!  Steve "The Fury" Kowalski has just arrived outside the Coliseum, and is looking for Brody Thunder!  We may have a serious altercation on our hands here, folks, but we're all out of time!  We'll be sure to update you on this situation on "Inside The IIWF" this Tues... SR: [over headset] Thunder's outside, Dross!  We're gonna see a backstreet brawl!  And me all out of biscuits! [Back in the parking lot, Kowalski and Janois both look up from their arguing to see "Lone Wolf" Brody Thunder, clad in his street clothes, burst through the Coliseum entrance and charge at the two men!  Kowalski scowls at the former champ and moves to meet him, and the two men stop within mere inches of each other, hurling epithets back and forth as Janois attempts to get between the two before a full-scale war breaks out.] BT: C'mon, boy!  You're _done_ playin' champeen!  You ready to take yer licks and gimme my belt back? SK: I'm _always_ ready to bust yer stinkin' head, Thunder!  Yer old lady's gonna cry when she sees what I do to you!  Let's get it on! [The two nearly come to blows right then and there before Janois manages to wedge himself betweeen the two and push them apart.] PJ: 'OLD ON!  Are you two crazy?  You two can't jus' fight it out in de back alley for de World Title!  De title can only change 'ands in a bout sanctioned by de IIWF management, an'... an'... [Janois' words trail off as Thunder and Kowalski both stare down at him.] SK: Hey... _you're_ IIWF management, aren't you? PJ: Well... oui, I am, but I jus' can't... BT: Sure you can, hoss.  And if you know what's good for you, you'd _better_. SR: [over headset] Do it, P.J.!  TD: [over headset] Do we have time for this?  Are we still rolling? [Janois shakes his head, protesting to the two men, trying to make his way past them to the Coliseum doors.  Thunder and Kowalski exchange glances, and each grabs a  lapel of Janois' jacket, pull him close, and in unison, growl "Sanction it!" in each of Janois' ears.  Janois looks at the two men and sighs, then nods his head, and Thunder and Kowalski release their grip on his blazer.  As several IIWF stars begin to filter into the parking lot, having watched the altercation on the backstage monitors, Janois steps in front of the camera and makes an announcement.] PJ: All right.  You want to permanently injure yourselves, go right ahead!  As Special Concerns Committee chairman, I 'ereby sanction de following contest for de IIWF World 'Eavyweight Title -- dis contest will be one fall, wit' no disqualification, an' falls will count anywhere.  As well, due to de shortage of ring officials tonight, I 'ereby appoint _myself_ as referee for dis bout! [Janois then strips off his IIWF blazer, revealing a black-and-white striped referee's shirt underneath.  The IIWF stars keep streaming into the parking lot, forming a circle around Kowalski and Thunder, as inside, the crowd pops wildly as the camera shot is broadcast onto the video wall for the fans inside to see.] TD: [over headset] I've just gotten word from our production crew that we have secured extra time from our network!  We are staying with this, folks!  We've got a rematch!  We have a rematch out in the parking lot! SR: [over headset] The Fury and the Lone Wolf -- no rules, no ring, no holds barred!  God bless America, Dross! ________ ______ | || |\ \ /\ / /| __|.................................................. | || | \ v v / | __| IIWF WORLD CHAMPIONSHIP PARKING LOT BRAWL: |_||_| \_/\_/ |_| Steve "the Fury" Kowalski vs. Brody Thunder ....................................................................... WRITER: SK [Immediately, Kowalski tackles Thunder to the ground, and begins laying into him with a flurry of lefts and rights!  Thunder soon counters this by lifting a knee into the Fury's groin, and rolls him off, then grabs Kowalski by the hair and repeatedly bangs his head into the pavement! The various wrestlers standing by - Serge Annis, Billy Shakespeare, Christopher Stonebreaker, Shadoe Rage, Rick Williams, and the others - look on in disbelief, and some of them cheer on their favourites as Kowalski sticks a thumb into Thunder's eye, making him reel back in pain, and both men pull themselves to their feet.] TD: This is absolute chaos, Steve Roberts!  Steve Kowalski and Brody Thunder are seriously endangering themselves out there, with the World title at stake!  I'm not so sure that Poutine Janois actually has the authority to sanction a title match!  This may all be for nothing! SR: Janois thinks he's got the authority, Dross, and that's good enough for me.  Any excuse to see two good, red-blooded American boys stompin' mudholes in each other on prime-time television! Call the neighbours and wake the kids, baby dolls! [Kowalski is first to his feet, and as Thunder struggles to clear his vision after Kowalski's thumb, the Fury grabs a nearby garbage can, rushes up behind Thunder, and smashes it right over the Lone Wolf's head!  Thunder collapses to his knees, and Kowalski, grinning maliciously, dumps the contents of the can over Thunder's back, covering him in filthy, moldering refuse!  Not content with that, Kowalski then puts the garbage can over Thunder's head and shoulders, and kicks it over, sending Thunder rolling across the parking lot!] TD: I've never seen anything like this in all my years of broadcasting, Steve!  Steve Kowalski is absolutely destroying Brody Thunder with that garbage can! SR: Hey, at least he knows how to take out the trash! [Thunder rolls a few yards away, and Kowalski takes his time in pursuing, giving Thunder time to drag himself out of the can and struggle to his hands and knees.  As the Fury approaches, Thunder suddenly launches himself at Kowalski's knees, clipping him to the pavement!  Thunder rolls away, searching around the lot as Kowalski gets up, and finds a rusty, abandoned automobile tailpipe and muffler resting against a lamppost.  As Kowalski rises to his feet, Thunder charges across the lot, and swings the tailpipe, and a spray of rust and soot flies into the air as the muffler catches the Fury right in the back of the head!] TD: Oh my goodness!  This is barbaric! SR: This is great!  [Kowalski slumps to the asphalt, and Thunder raises the pipe to bring it down again, but Kowalski manages to catch the pipe before it strikes him!  The two men struggle as Kowalski manages to get back to his feet, trying to wrestle the pipe out of Thunder's hands, and see-saw struggle ensues as Kowalski and Thunder swing each other around the parking lot, neither one relinquishing their grip on the pipe.  Finally, though, Thunder digs his heels in, and whips Kowalski around, sending him face-first into the side of a large steel dumpster!] TD: Kowalski is busted open!  He may have a concussion from that incredible impact! SR: Neither of these guys are takin' prisoners tonight, Dross!  This match won't be over until the meat wagon takes one of 'em away! [Kowalski bounces off and lands spread-eagled in front of the bin, a deep cut opened up over his left eye.  Thunder waits for Kowalski to rise, then charges at him, hoping to catch him with a lariat, but incredibly, Kowalski slips the clothesline and back body drops Thunder over his head and into the dumpster!] SR: One thing's for sure -- Mrs. Thunder ain't gonna be sleeping in the same bed as Brody tonight!  That stink's gonna be on him for weeks! [Kowalski leans against the dumpster for a few moments, wiping the blood from his face, then looks over the lip of the dumpster to see what has happened to Thunder.  As the Fury stretches up to see, Brody Thunder suddenly appears, covered in trash, grabs a surprised Kowalski by the head, and pulls him into the dumpster with him!  The IIWF stars look on open-mouthed as a hellacious maelstrom of garbage explodes from the dumpster as the two men go at it tooth and nail, a spray of refuse flying into the air with each punch, kick, and slam.  Thunder and Kowalski are both covered head to toe in filth now, and the dumpster begins to rock back and forth as the war rages on inside it.  Finally, after one last impact into the side of the bin, the dumpster rocks back, tilts forward... and topples over with a loud bang, sending Thunder and Kowalski spilling out on a wave of refuse!] TD: Thank goodness they're both out of that dumpster. Those things can be dangerous. SR: I was half expecting to see the Subway Stinker come spilling out of there, too -- or maybe even young Summer.  That boy's screwed up, Dross -- the cross-dressing, the drug abuse, the squatting on sanitation department property... sad. [Kowalski and Thunder slowly rise to their knees, the Fury's cut opened wider from the dumpster battle, and blood is flowing freely down his face.  As the two men struggle to stand, Serge Annis begins to move slowly behind Kowalski, who is blind to Annis' approach as he rubs blood out of his left eye.  Annis grabs a lid off of a garbage can, and raises it high in the air, preparing to bring it down on the back of Kowalski's head!] TD: What is Serge Annis doing? SR: He's still got a grudge from last week, Dross!  Annis is gonna take out Kowalski and cost him the title!  That lowlife son of a bitch -- he's gonna mess with the legend! [Annis' face breaks into his trademark manaical leer as he prepares to bring the steel bin lid down on Kowalski's skull, but before he can, his arm is grabbed from behind by Shadoe Rage, who spins Annis around and lays him out with a haymaker to the jaw!  Rage leaps upon the downed Canadian, and the two men begin a wild brawl of their own!  Annis and Rage continue to trade shots on the pavement, and both men manage to get to their feet before being separated by the others.  Annis shouts threats at Rage, but the former Prophet just laughs in Annis' face before both men are removed from the area by IIWF security.] TD: As if this match wasn't brutal enough, we nearly had another brawl right there. SR: Those two just plain don't like each other, Dross.  We'll be seeing them spilling the red stuff soon, I'll bet. [Meanwhile, Kowalski and Thunder lock up again, and Kowalski seizes Thunder by the scruff of the neck and runs him across the parking lot and right into the side of an IIWF satellite van, which is broadcasting the event live to the world.  The crowd inside the Coliseum groans in unison as the picture suddenly cuts out after the impact!] TD: We've lost the feed!  Get it back!  Get it back! SR: We should get out there, Dross!  By the time those crew morons get the picture working again, somebody might be dead!  I can't miss that! TD: Hopefully this is only a temporary... wait, here it comes! [After several moments, the snowy screen slowly comes back into tune, and we can see Brody Thunder standing over top of Steve Kowalski, choking him out with a cable from the television van!  Kowalski's face is beet red, and he struggles to work his fingers under the cord wrapped around his neck, but Thunder just bears down the pressure more and more, and Kowalski's struggles become weaker and weaker, until finally, his head lolls to one side and he slomps to the pavement.] TD: Steve Kowalski has been choked out!  It's all over! SR: All Thunder has to do is pin him, and he's the champ again!  This is why he's the number one wrestler in the sport today, Dross! [Thunder lets go of the cable, and calls Janois over as he prepares to pin Kowalski.  As he turns back to the Fury, though, he is met by a hard shot to the solar plexus from Kowalski, who is suddenly on his knees!] TD: Kowalski is alive! SR: The sneaky sonofabitch was playing possum, Dross!  He's on his feet... Tiger Driver from the Fury onto the pavement!  Thunder's busted open!  Thunder's in a world of trouble now! [The bloodied, battered Kowalski pulls the stunned Thunder to his feet, applies a reverse facelock, and walks him across the lot to where his parked automobile has still been idling ever since the start of the match.  Kowalski grins to the onlooking IWF stars, and hoists Thunder into the air, snap suplexing him onto the hood of his own car!  The hood buckles under the force of the impact, and Thunder lies motionless across the front of the car as Kowalski climbs onto the hood, shouting "Can't trade her in now!  Looks like I'm gonna have to junk her!" Kowalski, standing on the hood of the car, reaches down, pulls Thunder up, and underhooks both of the Lone Wolf's arms!] TD: Skullpump!  Here it comes! SR: This is a classic in the making, Dross!  Kowalski's tearing the number one wrestler in the world apart!  Hey, does that make _him_ the number one guy now? TD: Only time will tell, Steve... oh my goodness... [Kowalski heaves Thunder into the air once again, and a shattering crash echoes across the parking lot as the Fury Skullpumps Brody Thunder through the windshield of his car!  The crowd in the Coliseum pops wildly as these images appear on the video wall -- glass is scattered everywhere, and Thunder can be seen slumped in the driver's seat, stunned, his face a crimson mask from a long, deep cut creasing his forehead!  Thunder does not move, and Kowalski steps off the front of the car and beckons to Janois.] SR: It's over.  It's gotta be over!  He Skullpumped him through the goddamn _windshield_! TD: It certainly appears so, Steve.  Both of these men have sustained an enormous amount of punishment, but it looks like Steve Kowalski will be walking away from this -- I hesitate to call it a match, this _atrocity_ -- with his World title intact.  Janois is coming over now, and... what's that sound? SR: Sounds like someone's gunning a car engine... wait just a minute, you don't think... TD: Good God! [Janois suddenly scrambles out of the way as the confused Kowalski whirls at the sound, and is blinded by the high beams from his own car shining right in his face!  Through the glare, all that can be seen of Brody Thunder is the glint in his steel-gray eyes through the blood and the shattered windshield, as he shifts the car into gear, stomps on the gas, and guns the car across the lot straight at Steve Kowalski! Kowalski flings himself out of the way, but not fast enought to avoid being clipped by the front fender of the car, and he ricochets across the parking lot and straight into the concrete outer walls of the Coliseum!  The car crashes into a parked pickup truck, and Thunder slowly pulls himself out of the wreckage, still bleeding profusely, and slowly limps over to where the nearly-unconscious Kowalski is slumped against the concrete wall.] TD: We may have just stepped over the boundaries here, Steve Roberts! Brody Thunder just tried to run down Steve Kowalski with an automobile! That's aggravated assault -- that's a criminal offense! SR: It's a no-DQ match, Dross!  What's more important, the IIWF rulebook, or some little state law that says you can't hit people with your car?  Give the people what they want!  We've got to fight the powers that be! [Thunder stands in front of Kowalski, who opens his swollen eyes and looks up at the Arizonan, but makes no move to get up.  Thunder leans down, wincing, and grabs the Fury by the shirt, pulling him to his feet with considerable difficulty.  The two men stand face to face for what seems like minutes, almost appearing to be holding each other up. Kowalski stares into Thunder's eyes, each man nearly battered beyond recognition, and smiles, before spitting in Thunder's face.  Kowalski starts to cackle, his voice in rags, as Thunder's eyes narrow, and then the Lone Wolf nods slowly, and lifts a knee into Kowalski's stomach, taking the wind out of him and doubling him over!] TD: Here's the facelock... will we see the Cattle Buster? SR: No, he's heavng him up... it's the Widowmaker! TD: Kowalski kicked out of that move last week -- I doubt he'll be able to do it this time! [Thunder summons all his remaining strength and hoists Kowalski into the air, bellowing with the strain and pain of the effort, and then kicks his legs up, _slamming_ Kowalski's head into the hard asphalt!  Thunder picks himself up, on the brink of exhaustion, and drapes an arm across the chest of the Fury, as Janois scrambles over and applies the count  - 1 - 2 - Kowalski stirs, and weakly pushes a shoulder up, just a split-second _after_ Janois brings his hand down on the pavement for the third time!] TD: [shouting over the deafening pop inside the Coliseum]  THREE! THREE!  HE GOT HIM!  BRODY THUNDER IS ONCE AGAIN THE IIWF WORLD CHAMPION! SR: That was un-f'n-believeable, baby dolls!  Thunder takes back the title, and shows why he's the number one man in the sport!  That match had it all -- blood, garbage, foreign objects, nearly even had vehicular manslaughter -- and Brody Thunder survived it all!  What can you say -- that is one tough sonofabitch! TD: What a rivalry! There are still many questions to be resolved concerning this match, ladies and gentlemen -- we're not even sure yet if this match will even be recognised as a legitimate title defense... SR: It will.  If it isn't, Thunder'll be running down suits next.  I hear he calls his pickup truck "Christine". TD: ...but we'll have all the answers for you this Tuesday, on "Inside the IIWF"!  Until then, we have a new champion -- Brody Thunder is once again the IIWF World Champion... at least for the time being!  That's all the time we have!  For my broadcast colleague Steve "Soundbite" Roberts, this is Tim Dross, saying: so long, everybody! [Cut back to the parking lot, where Janois has retrieved the IIWF World Title from Kowalski's equipment bag, and somewhat tentatively hands it to Brody Thunder.  Kowalski lies apparently unconscious on the asphalt as "Lone Wolf" Brody Thunder, his face caked in dried blood, cuts, scratches, road burns and abrasions marking his chest, head and arms, but the fire in his eyes undimmed, raises the glittering belt high over his head, as the stars of the IIWF look on in shock and awe, and the crowd inside the Coliseum threatens to bring down the ceiling with its thunderous pop for the "Lone Wolf."  The camera catches one last shot of Thunder's eyes, reflecting the gold title belt in his hands, then slowly fades to black.] +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= 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 -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=+