[Fade up on grainy footage of Steve "the Fury" Kowalski, standing on the turnbuckles and raising his IIWF World Heavyweight Championship belt high in the air to the adoration of the crowd, who chant, "Skull-pump! Skull-pump! Skull-pump!" From the scan lines visible on the image, it is clear that the image is being shown on a television screen. No sooner is this realisation made than the image explodes in a shower of sparks as a metal object is hurled at the screen, shattering it and lodging in the electronics behind the glass. The shot pulls out a little: the metal object is a meat cleaver. The shot pulls out a little more: the man who hurled the cleaver is the bloody-apron wearing Jimmy "the Meatman" Steele, who stands bathed in a red spotlight against an otherwise dark background. A voice-over:] VO: Tonight, the Fury meets the Meat. Tonight, will an old loss be avenged -- or will a new champion be crowned? Steve Kowalski vs. The Meatman... tonight, only on... [The opening graphics explode onto the screen:] ________ ______ __ ____ ___ __ . _ ___ | || |\ \ /\ / /| __| / /\ | | || \| \ /\ \ / |\ || / \| | | | || | \ v v / | __| \__ /__\ | | ||__/| |/__\ v | \||| __|-| | |_||_| \_/\_/ |_| \ \| v | \|__/ \| | || \_|| | | __________________________/...hour one...\........|...|.......|....| LIVE! Delta Center, Salt Lake City, Utah 7 February 1998 [The opening graphics fade through to interior shots of the jam-packed Delta Center in Salt Lake City, fireworks shooting out from either side of the huge video wall above the entranceway at the head of the aisle and streaking up into the rafters above above the ringside enclosure, seemingly triggering further fireworks, and sending a rain of white sparks down into the ring. Finally, flames shoot up from each of the four corners of the ring from pyros mounted on the ringposts. Huge pop from the twenty thousand fans crowding the floor seating and filling the mezzanine, lining the entire arena. The shot pans down past row upon row of excited faces, young and old, many bedecked in IIWF merchandise, and most waving home-made signs. Over these scenes comes the voice of Tim Dross, his words being carried over the PA system:] TD: Welcome everybody to Salt Lake City, Utah! Welcome everybody to the home of the Utah Jazz! Welcome everybody to the magnificent Delta Center! Welcome everybody... to IIWF Saturday Night! [Another huge cheer goes up from the fans as the shot swings over the crowd, multi-coloured spotlights in the rigging above the ring casting their bright beams over the sea of humanity ranged over the floor of the Delta Center. Finally, the shot comes to rest on veteran IIWF announcer Tim Dross, who stands in the ring, dressed in his usual IIWF blazer -- the only addition being a somewhat conspicuous lapel badge emblazoned with the legend "WRESTLE CLEAN!". Dross raises a microphone to his mouth as the fans settle and the lights in the arena rise.] TD: Ladies and gentlemen, at this time I wish to introduce a team who triumphed over every other team in the IIWF at Snow Brawl to capture the IIWF World Tag Team Championships. Accompanied to the ring by their manager, Kuyler Greyson, please welcome... Bear... the Grey Phoenix... the NATURAL PREDATORS! [The crowd erupts as "Destination Eschaton" by the Shamen begins playing... and Kuyler Greyson steps out from behind the curtain at the end of the aisle, opening it wide for Grey Phoenix and Bear, both in their traditional wrestling outfits, wearing the World Tag Team belts around their waists. Each Predator moves to one side of the aisle, slapping hands, shaking hands with children, or being mass hugged. Grey Phoenix rests his back agaist the left rail as people's arms reach over to wrap around him, or to touch him, and Bear, on the other side, boosts children high up into the air, setting a couple on his shoulders for pictures. Kuyler taps his two protegés on the shoulders to draw their attention back to the ring. They walk the rest of the way, contenting the fans with handslaps. Grey Phoenix vaults over the top rope, and Bear merely steps over them to join his partner and manager next to Dross in the centre of the ring.] TD: Kuyler Greyson, Predators, you have got to be riding an all time high... in less than a year of existence you have led this fine young team to the most coveted of all honors... the IIWF Tag Team Championship belts... KG: Mr. Dross... I mean you no disrespect here in what I say... but this interview is not about what I have done. Bear, Grey Phoenix, the mic -- and the spotlight -- are yours. [Greyson steps back, and Grey Phoenix steps forward:] GP: I, uh... I couldn't believe it when it happened, Tim... look at us. New team... one year of existence... in the number one federation in the world... with the greatest fans in the world... the IIWF! [Loud cheers!] TD: Bear, what about you? [A chant of "Bear!" grows in the crowd] B: I... [The chants grow louder.] B: We couldn't have done this without you! [Loud cheers!] TD: Without a doubt... one of the most popular tag teams as of late... tonight you are defending your tag team titles against a team many say should be wearing the belts you have now, Team Sychosys. What are your opinions on that? GP: Well, Tim, your own partner says that there are too many teams whining about could have, should have, would have... we lost the battle royal. It happens. [The shot cuts to show Joe Petrow and "Mr. Majestyk" Maurice McArthur in the crowd at ringside, surrounded by their Sychopaths. Both men are wearing official US Winter Olympic team jackets. Petrow cracks a smile as the Sychopaths around him begin hissing at the Predators.] B: But when we stepped into the ring against the Lost Boyz... and the Down Boys... we beat them. Pinned them both. And earned the Tag Team titles in the toughest battle we've ever fought. GP: Joe Petrow, Maurice McArthur, you earned a title shot. And tonight, you get it. You wanted a locked door match -- and that's fine by us. We don't need outside interference to defend our belts. TD: Joe Petrow is an experienced veteran of the ring wars, gentlemen. You have to believe this is going to be a hard match. B: I underestimated him once. He had his legs taken from under him in Manning's match with his partner... and he still won the battle royal and his submission match. Tonight, he faces us and Shadoe Rage. GP: Shadoe has a hell of a lot of anger inside him... and he's not going to just want to win. He'll want to make Petrow bleed. B: But we will not underestimate him again. Him or his Not Ready for Prime Time sidekick. [Cheers at yet another pop culture reference.] TD: So you come into this match in high spirits. GP: We have no reason not to. We've earned our reputation here... if we lose tonight, we will most certainly regain the belts. The Tag Team division is only now beginning to gain the attention it deserves, with Team Sychosys and the American Dragons adding to the tough competition already in place. TD: I would like to ask your opinion on that... you've recieved a lot of challenges to the titles in the past two weeks. If you do win tonight, who's next? B: Kuyler's taking care of that for us, Mr. Dross. GP: That's right. See, we have an open schedule. An open contract. Whoever the IIWF collective brain decides is worthy, we face. TD: Who do you think deserves the next shot? GP: Hard to say... see, I agree with Derek Rage. [Slightly shocked pop.] GP: The Prophets do not get the respect they deserve. B: Or the Down Boys. GP: Or the Harlequins. B: Or the High Plains Drifters. You folks might have forgotten about them... but they have as long a career as the prophets...and as many wins in the IIWF... ["Oh!" pop!] GP: And there are a lot of teams that want to make a name for themselves: the Dragons, Starks and the Subway Psycho, the Fabulous Ones... you can't ever overlook anyone. B: So we got this open contract. Sign the line, and we'll face you, sure thing. VOICE: I think we'll do just that! [Big heel pop from the fans as the "Universal Heartthrob" Agito Nakajima and "Sweet" Sho Satsuma appear at the head of the aisle, Agito clutching a hand-held microphone. Sho flexes for the crowd as they greet the Fabulous Ones with a big heel pop. Bear and Grey Phoenix move to the ropes and hold them apart, inviting the Fabulous Ones to join them in the ring.] TD: Now, we don't need... AN: [interrupting] With all due respect, Dross-san -- shut up! Predators, I can feel the jealousy just oozing from you as you stand up there with those belts. Sure, you have the belts... but you can't possibly match up to the "Universal Heartthrob" and the "Sweetness" himself, Sho Satsuma. You may be the champs, but you sure as hell aren't Fabulous! [Big heel pop as Agito, in his wrestling tights, and Sho, dressed in an open shirt which reveals his ribs taped underneath as well as his tights, begin to head down to the ring. Suddenly, the crowd erupt with another huge pop! Agito and Sho are knocked down in the aisle by a pair of smaller athletes, who run out from behind the entrance curtain, and fell them with a pair of well-synchronised standing dropkicks!] TD: The Down Boys... gentlemen! Please! [Indeed, it is Adam Peterson and Dan Oliver, resplendent in all their overly-coiffed glory, who have rushed out into the aisle and felled the Predators. Peterson, checking that his ridiculous hair isn't out of place, picks up the microphone from the arena floor, and addresses the crowd.] AP: Guess the Fabs aren't so fabulous now, are they? [Big pop -- but Peterson is cut off as the Fabulous Ones pop back up to their feet and a brawl breaks out in the aisle! The Natural Predators simply watch on from the ring, Greyson advising them not to get involved. Security and the Jobber Justice Squad quickly descend on the aisle and pull the Fabs and the Down Boys apart, dragging them back to the locker room. Finally, the crowd begins to settle once again, and turn their attention back to the ring, where the Predators stand with slight grins on their faces.] TD: I do apologise for that interruption, gentlemen. I suppose it just serves to demonstrate how much wearing those titles means putting a target on your backs. I want to, if I may, turn things to men you had hoped to ally with: Edmund Fitzgerald and Icehawk. GP: You know, I like the idea of bringing Flare's Horsemen back... we need a firm alliance to make sure that we've got some back up. They stood back, but remain our friends... B: Which makes what happened last week that much worse. GP: Enigma, you put our friend in the hospital... you may have ended his career. B: You want to prove something, prove it in the ring. GP: Watch yourself, Musashi. No one tries to cripple our friend and gets off free... B: You're up for Natural Selection.... [Crowd pop!] TD: And Edmund Fitzgerald? B: The offer is still open to him... an alliance. TD: Kuyler, you've been awfully quiet. I would like to hear a few of your thoughts about the matchup tonight.... [Kuyler hesitates, the crowd starts chanting "Kuy-ler! Kuy-ler!" and he smiles, covering his eyes with his hand, then turning to Dross:] KG: All right... a few of my thoughts. Number one: I have never in my life been part of an organization as grand as the IIWF, and have never met fans like you in my life. [HUGE Pop!] Number two... I have been scouting this league for a while... and have made a number of realizations. A few people in this fine federation have fallen into the cracks -- a few definite talents. Gentlemen, you've received phone calls from me. Take your time, but I think the time is right for the Horsemen to rise again... [Another HUGE pop!]    Number three: "Quickstrike" Chris Quigley may not have been the most popular man in this sport now that his career has ended... but what he said last week, when he came out in front of everyone in that jam-packed stadium and told them "I quit" for the last time... he became a legend here in the IIWF. [Applause] I think we all dream about being remembered for something... about being known long after we've left. I've seen the IIWF archives... and I haven't noticed too many managers who have stood by their charges through thick and thin. These two young men have frustrated me... irritated me... and made my life a living hell trying to get them title-worthy... [Shocked pop] And I was glad to do it. These two young men are the future of wrestling -- hopefully legends someday on their own -- and I could think of no two wrestlers I would prefer to manage more than these. Daniel Twin-Bear, Michael Wolcott, you two have done me very proud. And you have made the IIWF the place where the wild things rule. [Huge face pop!] And last, but certainly not least... I understand Tim Turner has added his voice to the challenges to the Predators. He and Duncan Macbeth... quite a team, they are. Turner, when Grey Phoenix challenged you to a match, brain vs. brain, it was gleaned over... now you want a title shot? [Pause] You and Macbeth sign the line... and then we'll see who the smartest men are. I have the Strongman of the IIWF and the Grey Phoenix, the tag team champions... we were #42 in the RSPWF poll... that's number forty-two! We hear #1, #5, #13, whatever... but in the end, it's a rank, it's a number, and these two men beside me in the ring are tangible, they're real, they're solid, and they are the IIWF tag team champions! After tonight, they will still be the tag team champions! [Big, big Predator Pop!] Legends are born every day... and these two are the future. Gotta love 'em. GP: Neyho neyehe hiyo. B: We will triumph! [Loud cheers as they remove their belts, boosting them high over their heads. "Destination Eschaton" once again kicks in over the PA as Tim Dross ducks out of the ring, leaving Grey Phoenix and Bear to mount the turnbuckles in the ring and raise their belts in the air, the gold gleaming in the glare of the spotlights. As the celebrations continue, the shot cuts to the broadcast table at ringside, where Tim Dross has now rejoined "Soundbite" Steve Roberts, who is bedecked in his usual leather jacket over a t-shirt that reads: "WRESTLE CLEAN?! KISS MY @$$!" He appears to have been doodling while Dross has been conducting the interview.] TD: What a way to kick off tonight's huge live broadcast from the Delta Center, ladies and gentlemen! I'm Tim Dross, and beside me, as always, is my broadcast colleague and tag team partner, "Soundbite" Steve Roberts. It's going to be quite a night here in Salt Lake City, Steve! SR: For a change, I agree with you, Dross. Later on tonight, we're going to see Steve "the Fury" Kowalski and the Meatman get it on! What a match! TD: Indeed, folks, tonight's main event pits two of Steve Roberts' favourite wrestlers -- two of the most popular athletes in the IIWF, period -- against one another, as IIWF World Heavyweight Champion Steve "the Fury" Kowalski defends against Jimmy "the Meatman" Steele. The Meatman is one of very few athletes in the IIWF to hold a pinfall over the Fury -- and I have to believe that the Fury will do everything in his power to avenge that loss tonight. SR: Much as I love the Meatguy, Dross, we all know how this match is gonna end. One word: Skullpump. TD: Folks, we should mention that some of the IIWF's superstars have had travel difficulties this past week, and a few athletes have failed to make it here to Salt Lake City in time for tonight's show. As a result, we may well see a few unadvertised changes to the schedule -- so expect the unexpected here tonight! SR: And what about these rumours flying around, huh, Dross? What about these rumours? TD: The rumours to which Steve Roberts is referring, folks, concern the possible appearance of a world champion from another organisation here in the Delta Center tonight. I don't know who this man is, or why he is here -- but front office officials have hinted that they may be in negotiations with this man, and due to the sensitive point these negotiations have reached, they are unable to release his name. SR: What a crock of crapola, Dross. Why would the suits try and keep the Soundbite out of these negotiations? Don't they realise I'm the best damned thing going in this sport today? TD: I guess you'll just have to wait and see like the rest of us. Don't forget, folks, that tonight also marks the first match for the King of Snow Brawl, "Savage" Shadoe Rage, who garnered booking rights for the whole of February with his victory back in Hawaii several weeks ago -- and tonight he has forced "Sychosys" Joe Petrow to pull double duty, facing him in singles competition ahead of his scheduled championship match against the Natural Predators in our second hour. SR: Crazy Joe may have made it through three matches at Snow Brawl, Dross -- getting jumped by that piece of Quigley Chris Quigley on the Free For All, winning the battle royal, and then knocking the Quigley out of Quigley in that submission match -- but Savage Rage... he's a different kettle of fish altogether, Dross. He's one crazy muhfuh. TD: That he is, Steve Roberts -- and the rivalry between Joe Petrow and Shadoe Rage is becoming increasingly personal with every exchange between these two men. I believe they will go at it tooth and nail in their match later on tonight, despite the fact that Petrow has declared that winning the IIWF World Tag Team Championship is now the only thing that drives him in this sport -- and his match with Shadoe Rage is bound to jeopardise his chances of success in that title match. SR: Add to that the fact that he's the alternate team member for the United States Curling team in the Winter Olympics in Japan, Dross. Fat lot of use he'd be against Switzerland if Shadoe Rage snaps both his arms off. TD: Joe Petrow has his work cut out tonight, that's for sure. But that's only the beginning of all the incredible action we have coming up here in the next two hours, folks: we'll also see the tag team of former Cruiserweight Champion Timothy N. Turner and current Intercontinental Champion Duncan Macbeth go up against the unbalanced -- perhaps suicidal -- Derek Mota, and his partner, "The Intrepid" Ryan Howard. That's a volatile combination right there, Steve Roberts. SR: That tough little Canadian bastard is doing his best to out-weird even Joe Petrow, Dross -- don't try that at home, morons. TD: We have more tremendous tag team action... SR: There you go with those mutually exclusive terms again, Dross. TD: ...as the newest additions to the IIWF, the American Dragons, take on two wily veterans, Tony Starks and the Subway Psycho, whom we all thought we had seen tag together for the last time after their blow-out at Snow Brawl -- but apparently these two IIWF greats have put their differences behind them and are ready to give a wrestling lesson to the newcomers, Double Eye style! Our other big tag team encounter pits the Fabulous Ones, who were in a war last weekend against the Prophets of Rage, against former IIWF World Tag Team Champions, the Lost Boyz. That's sure to be an excellent match-up. SR: What about the ugly guy, Dross! Tell the morons about the ugly guy! TD: Indeed, Steve Roberts has found somebody new to cheer, folks, with the arrival of Damien "the Demon" Lestat, one of the most unorthodox competitors ever to set foot inside an IIWF ring. Tonight he makes his debut against former Cruiserweight Champion Ronnie Paris -- and that is sure to be a very interesting match-up. SR: This guy's great, Dross. He even talks to a cooler he carries around with him. Hey, I wonder what he keeps in that cooler? TD: I think perhaps it's better if we don't ask. And we will also see the debut of another big -- and I mean _big_ -- IIWF competitor, as the monstrous Battalion makes his debut against the "Party Maniac" Marty Warnett. On top of all that, we'll be getting comments from Serge Annis, who last week shocked the world -- and earned himself a very hefty fine -- by setting the cage in which he had been fighting Mad Dog Watkins ablaze with gasoline in one of the most frightening moments I have ever experienced in my career. SR: Annis is crazy, Dross. He's a nutty little firebug. Gotta love it. TD: We haven't had any kind of update on the condition of Mad Dog Watkins, who was cuffed to the wall of that cage when it was set alight, in the past seven days -- but I'm sure Annis is going to have words for Watkins as he convalesces in hospital. We'll also be getting comments from Steve Manning, and the Cruiserweight Champion, the "Enigma" Takezo Musashi, who inadvertantly injured Icehawk in their match last week. Musashi showed no remorse then, despite the fact that he may have ended young Icehawk's promising career, but perhaps he has requested the mic time tonight to apologise. SR: Why the hell should he apologise, Dross? This ain't no picnic -- this is the Double Eye Double U f'n' F! Guys are gonna get hurt! TD: And on that positive note, let's get up to the ring for our first match, as Ronnie Paris meets "the Demon," Damien Lestat. Over to you, Sparkplug! ________ ______ | || |\ \ /\ / /| __|.................................................. | || | \ v v / | __| Ronnie Paris vs. "The Demon" Damien Lestat |_||_| \_/\_/ |_|.................................................... WRITER: Gregg Osterhout [Sparkplug Lee takes his customary position in the ring. The beam of one of the arc lights glints off his "Wrestle Clean!" pin, momentarily blinding him.] RA: Welcome to Saturday Night, Utah!   Land of the morons! [The crowd becomes deathly quiet, but it's Sparkplug and they soon forgive him.  Sparky decides to cut his losses and announce the match.] RA: Ladies and gentlemen, the following opening contest is scheduled for one fall. Introducing first, making his IIWF debut, standing at 6'6" and weighing an even 280 pounds... from Minneapolis, Minnesota... here is "The Demon" Damien Lestat! SR: Isn't that a character by Anne Rice? TD: Steve, you read? SR: Nah, I caught the film "Intercourse With a Vampire." TD: You mean "Interview". SR: Did I _say_ "Interview"? TD: Despite Steve Roberts' taste in film, the Anne Rice character is named "Lestadt."  The "dt" makes all the difference. SR: And speaking of the "DT's," take a look at this guy. [Angus begins the beginning chords of AC/DC's "Hell's Bells" as the disgusting creature known as Lestat ambles to the ring.  His shaggy, greasy hair serves only to draw attention away from his scarred and acne blighted face.  His beard serves as only the meekest coverage for the rotting stumps in his mouth where his teeth would normally be.  "The Demon" promptly spits on the floor, wiping the trailing spittle from his lips with the back of his hand, but only smearing the saliva across his cheek. Despite the booing from the audience, he remains passionless.] SR: Another winner signed by the front office.  That new VP sure picked     a winner here.  Maybe by "Wrestle Clean!" he meant TAKE A BATH! TD: I think the new Vice-President's campaign is a fine idea. SR: You think that toupee is a fine idea. RA: His opponent tonight... [Sparkplug stops as the floor director hands him a card.] RA: There seems to be a developing story about Ronnie Paris.  He won't be wrestling here tonight.  It seems that he has been unable to travel... [Sparkplug is interrupted by a frenzied yell! Upon hearing that he has no opponent for the evening, Lestat snaps. Screaming and ripping down a crowd barrier, he beats it upon the stairs with a savagery that terrifies the home crowd.  The crack security team, led by Dennis "Griff" Griffing, rush from the back, surrounding the berserk wrestler, trying to coach him to the back.] TD: This man is insane!  Call the police, I don't know if security will     stop him.  I haven't seen this kind of chaos wreaked by one man     since... since... SR: Since the VDC dropped you in center ring. TD: Please Steve, you know I still wake up at night screaming. SR: Let the big guy play. I see our next PPV already: Ring Wars V: Lestat loses control.  Take back what I said about the new VP, this guy sells tickets. TD: This is terrible! [Lestat is keeping securty at bay by treatening to rip the tongue out of a nearby fan.  Uncharacteristically, Sparkplug decends from the ring, talking in soothing tones, persuading the grimey madman to go quietly. 'Plug's words seem to work as the giant releases the fan... and grabs Sparkplug!] SR: Hey!  No one does that to Pluggy but me! TD: Then why don't you go stop him? SR: And hurt the new guy?  Oh, the suits would love that.  Where's Shock the Taser when we need him? [Tim is handed an urgent message from the back.  He picks up a microphone.] TD: Mr.Lestat... Mr. Lestat.  I have recieved a note from backstage.   You will wrestle tonight. Repeat, you WILL wrestle someone.  Now put down Sparkplug and please enter the ring. [Not so trustingly, Lestat drops the uterly terrified Lee and does as Tim asks. Suddenly there is a blare of trumpets and over the sound system comes the cry:] VOICE: Richard Blue to the rescue!!  You call that crazy? I'LL SHOW YOU CRAZY! [To the familiar cry of "Oh yeah RIGHTEOUS!",  Richard "Moxy" Blue explodes from the back wearing a hideous outfit which lights up like a christmas tree on acid. A pair of Elton John-esque sunglasses light up "Moxy" in neons while more blue neons form a half-moon design squarely on his backside.  Moxy carries with him a pair of devil sticks, but instead of doing tricks with the central American playtoy, he uses them to attack his equally insane opponant.  Referee Chuck Sanders signals for the bell to be rung. Ding! Ding! Ding!] TD: I am geting word over my earpiece that this will be an official match! SR: This certainly won't be a technical match. TD: As if you appreciate technical matches. SR: [mock shock]  Me?  The Bagwan of the powerbomb?  The C.E.O. of the      Step-over-toe?  The Dic-ta-tor of the Figure Four? The commissioner of the submission? TD: The number one guy of the poke in the eye. SR: I resemble that remark. TD: You're certainly jovial tonight. SR: You know you can't get alchohol after sunset in this state?  How do     you expect me to do my best work sober? TD: Wrestle clean! SR: Wrestle this. TD: Excuse me. SR: I was talking to this young lady in the "Soundbite Section".  Hey     honey, belive in polygamy? [Lestat immediatly recognizes his advantage in weigh, bouncing "Moxy" about like a pinball.  A quick forearm to the throat drops Blue like a sack of potatoes.  He drags Moxy to his feet, breathing heavily in the cruiserweights face and causing Blue to gag dramatically.  It is readily obvious that the gagging is more for effect than anything else.  Damien throws him to the ropes, catching on the rebound with a belly-to-beely suplex which shakes the ring.  Immediately he begins putting the boot to Blue.  Moxy rolls out of the ring, placing his hands to his hips and shaking his head side to side.  There is a moment of silence as Moxy eyes Mr. Coolie, Lestat's cooler companion, ringside.  Moxy sees it... Lestat sees him seeing it... and the two men rush for its possesion.] TD: One has to wonder what is in that cooler that makes it so important. SR: With luck, a six pack. TD: I'd have to say that Lestat is well short of a six-pack. SR: Watch it with the funny stuff, Dross.  Remember, your trophy is for     "Best Interviewer".  Your job is to ask Marty Warnett why he wrestled Quigley for custody of Troy.   It's my job to get the attention. [Blue wins the race to Mr. Coolie, bending to grab the ice chest.  In a mad rage, accompanied by a howl of fury, Lestat throws himself under the ring ropes and at Moxy.  Moxy sidesteps as the monster falls across the crowd barrier.  Picking up the previously removed barrier, Blue drops it on top of Damen once, twice and again.   Then, abandoning the attack, he begins the crowd in a chant of "Take a Bath!... Take a Bath!"] SR: Hey, Dross.  They're talking to you. [Lestat throws off the barrier, looking wildly for Blue, and finding him already center ring, posed over Mr. Coolie, about to open it.  "The Demon" grabs the nearby ring bell, heaving the massive piece of metal through the air, narrowly missing its target and clanging to a halt against the ring post.  Lestat charges the ring and is drop kicked by a flying Moxy. Pressing his advantage, Moxy legdrops, starts a figure four then gives up, instead choosing to bite Lestat on the ankle.] TD: I would seriously recommend that Moxy get a vaccination after that. SR: Moxy?  What about Lestat? CROWD: TAKE A BATH!  TAKE A BATH! [Moxy runs the big man into the ropes, sets for an armdrag, but is stopped by a thumb to the throat.] SR: Thumbs... biting... oh yeah, "Wrestle Clean!" works. [Damien lifts the little man into an overhead press, holding him tense moments before dropping him down hard across Mr. Coolie.] SR: [in a lousy Cuban accent]  I'd like you to meet my little friend. TD: Moxy is bleeding! SR: Whoo-hoooo! [Indeed Moxy has been cut, though it isn't obvious where as blood now smears one arm and his chest.  Slowly Moxy wipes his finger across the blood, tasting it as if it were a fine vintage wine, then ploughing head first into his opponent's stomach.  Like a man possesed, Moxy begins clubbering the big man with fists from all sides, the crowd losing count well into the twenties.  Moxy finishes off with a hotshot which sprays sweat from Lestat across the front row.  Again he goes for Mr. Coolie. Lestat grabs the ringbell where it sits on the mat, rising, and slamming it into Moxy's back.  A number of neons short circuit and their power supply sparks, sending out a shock which forces Lestat to drop the metal ringbell.  Looking for a less conductive weapon, he grabs Mr. Coolie, throwing it on Moxy.  He closes for the pin. Dragging and leaving crimson smears across the mat, Moxy grabs his discarded Devil stick, holding it up as Lestat impales himself in the lower abdomen, dropping him to the mat. Sanders begins the ten count.] TD: Bells and coolers and sticks.  Oh my. [At the six count, both men stagger to their feet.  Moxy slaps Lestat. Lestat chuckles gleefully and returns the slap.  Moxy repeats his action. Lestat decks him with a closed fist.] TD: Closed fist!  Violation!  Where is Chuck Sanders? [But the normally sharp eyed Sanders was distracted as he returned the ring bell to its normal position outside.  He turns only to see Lestat climbing the ringpost, coming down heavily with an elbow drop.  Chuck quickly slaps out the three count: 1 -- 2 -- 3! Ding! Ding! Ding! Big mixed pop from the fans!] RA: Ladies and gentlemen, here is your winner as the result of a pinfall... Damien "the Demon" Lestat! [Lestat grabs up his beloved cooler, carrying it backstage.  Moments later, Moxy climbs to his feet, looking at his bloody outfit and belaboring the complaint that a normal detergent will never get out these stains.  The crowd pops in a way normally reserved for baby-faces.  Moxy waves to the crowd before going backstage, applying pressure to the wound on his arm which continues to bleed. Cut back to the broadcast table at ringside.] TD: Well, a victorious debut here tonight for Damien Lestat -- but an impressive performance from Richard "Moxy" Blue. The crowd are certainly warming towards Moxy, wouldn't you say, Steve Roberts? SR: I don't think the crowd are anything like as warm as they were last week when Annis set fire to that cage, Dross. Good times. TD: You're disgusting, Steve Roberts. Folks, we must press on with our next match -- which also features the debut of a new IIWF superstar. Marty Warnett is going to meet the massive Battalion in one-on-one competition -- let's get up to the ring! ________ ______ | || |\ \ /\ / /| __|.................................................. | || | \ v v / | __| Marty Warnett vs. Battalion |_||_| \_/\_/ |_|.................................................... WRITER: Mitchell Smallman [Sparkplug Lee stands in the ring, making a long dramatic pause before bring the microphone to his lips with a flourish, or so he thinks, as he brings the wrong hand up and starts speaking into the cue cards and reading the microphone.] SL: YAMAHA 2800 MIC, 1996!! [Small pop by those folks that will cheer at anything and can hear him.] SR: Yeah, Sparky! Way to read that microphone! TD: Good grief. [Sparky realises his mistake and quickly makes the switch.] SL: Ladies and gentlemen, this match is scheduled for ONE FALL! First, from Cardiff, Wales... [Large pop as "Just Like Paradise" starts up over the Delta Center PA.] SL: Weighing in at 247 pounds... MARRRRRRRRRRRTYYYYYY WARNEEEEEEEEEETT! [Marty Warnett walks to the ring, arms raised high in the air. He is dressed in red tights, and clutches something on various chains.] SR: Oh no! It's Pot-head's rendition of "Workin' on the Chain Gang!" TD: No, no -- he's handing out Warnett dog tags? Then fans are loving Marty here tonight, and he does look like he's having fun. [Indeed he does, making sure plenty of fans get the mockery of his forthcoming opponent as a keepsake.] SR: Listen to these, morons. A few weeks ago, they were ready to rip out this guy's throat. Fickle fickle. You know what I say, once a doped up gay guy, always a doped up gay guy. TD: You're not going on a homosexual tangent with Warnett now, are you? SR: You couldn't pay me all the money in the world to go on a homosexual ANYTHING with Warnett. TD: I see, you'd rather have Quigley. SR: Don't go developing a wit on me, Dross, it's not in your contract. [Marty is now in the ring, pumping his fists and getting the crowd "rarin' to go".] SL: And his opponent... [The crowd goes silent and turns toward the entranceway to see this new superstar as "Seek and Destroy" by Metallica starts up.] SL: Weighing in at 345lbs... from Richmond, Virginia... he is... BATTALIOOOOOOOON!! [Battalion thrusts the curtains away with high velocity, and walks with an awesome presence to the ring.] TD: My god! Look at the size of this man! He's gargantuan! SR: Hehe... ol' Sycho Joe thinks so too. [Petrow and McArthur look, impressed, towards Battalion -- well, Joe half looks with his one eye. Maurice does a "Hey, I'm big and muscular too" pose. Joe claps and nods his head. The Sycopaths go nuts for Maurice. Battalion pays no heed.] TD: This young man comes from a strong miltary background, as you can tell from his attire. SR: Really? I thought he was a 300 plus pound crack whore. Gee, learn something new every day. TD: Uh-oh, Marty's got Sparky's microphone. He really should get a lock for that thing. MW: [over PA] I'd now like to welcome a new IIWF recruit... the soldier type dude from the Village People! SR: Uh-oh, that's not a good thing to say to this guy. He probably hates the idea of gays in the military! TD: Will you stop? SR: Ask the Lil' Soundbiters! [The cry of "Shoot, Soundbite! Shoot!" can be heard from lord knows where.] SR: The people have spoken. TD: Yeah, seen but not heard... and it doesn't look like Battalion liked Warnett's little joke. He's standing right next to him, and oh, we got a staredown already. [The bell rings: Ding! Ding! Ding! Battalion looks down almost an entire foot at Warnett. Warnett backs away, but not out of fear. He walks to the second turnbuckle, stands on it, and motions for Battalion to come over. Battalion does, and now it is Warnett looking down. Amused crowd pop!] TD: Marty can sure have fun in there. [Battalion ends his fun, and stops himself from being upstaged by grabbing Warnett and slamming him from the second rope. He roars like a jungle beast as he rushes with a splash. The ref counts: 1 -- 2...] TD: Oh my! That was close! He almost pulled a quick win there. Battalion grabbing Warnett by his hair, picking him up, solid right hand to the face, and Warnett goes straight down to the canvas. Battalion goes for an elbow drop, connects one... misses on a subsequent attempt as Marty rolls over! Kip-up! And Marty drops the leg over the Army Sergeant's throat, again... and again! Warnett jumps up and down, getting the crowd riled up! This is the Party Maniac we all know and love! SR: Love? You don't know what love is, Dross. I'm a beautiful human being who knows the true meaning of love. [Warnett grabs Battalions hair unsuccessfully, do to his crew cut. Warnett continues to grab at Battalion's hair, until he just gets frustrated, much to the delight of the crowd, and not to Battalion, who sits up and forearms Marty to the head, knocking him backwards. Battalion stands, and attempts a single leg takedown, which Marty blocks with an amateur reverse step counter. Battalion tries a hammerlock, which Marty reverses into one of his own.] TD: Battalion taking the wrong approach here, I'd say: I doubt he can match counter-wrestling with Warnett. SR: BIG FAT ROOKIE LOSER POOPYHEAD! Gee, it feels good to do that sometimes. [Battalion elbows his way out of the hammerlock with great force, breaking the hold. He bounces off the ropes, but Warnett is quick to drop to the mat, causing Battalion to hop over him and bounce again. Battalion bounces back, and as Warnett tries a leapfrog, Battalion catches him in a well-cinched bearhug.] TD: Very nice, clean wrestling here! I'm sure Vice President Osterhout will be pleased -- his new "Wrestle Clean" policy is in effect. SR: Happy with Warnett? Are you kidding me? Mr. Jointlock will be the first to go once the VP gets his hands on him! And from the looks of this new guy, he seems to be into some illegal substances as well! TD: What are you talking about? SR: Nothing. [coughs] ...Scott Rogers... [coughs] [Warnett is still locked in Brigg's immense grip. He looks to be going under. Dave D'Amato raises his hand. It drops. He raises again, it falls once more. The crowd grows anxious as D'Amato raises Marty's hand... it falls. But not all the way, showing a brief sign of life! The Party Maniac starts shaking his fist, and the crowd noise steadily begins to grow! Warnett raises his arms and cracks a double axehandle to Battalion's face, breaking the hold! Battalion backs off, and bends his massive frame downward, placing his hands on his knees, giving a hard stare to the IIWF veteran fan favourite.] TD: It looks like Battalion is analysing Warnett here. [Warnett gets into the same position, and then scrunches up his face, before emitting a loud "Aaaaaah!", alluding to the fact that his posterior has emitted something else, waving his hand behind himself!] SR: I think the twit is right! He's not analysing anything, he's just baking brownies! If I were a lousy bush league announcer, I woulda called him Farty Warnett! TD: I think "Wrestle Clean" takes "Annouce clean" into effect. SR: Well, isn't that a [bleep] nice [bleep] [bleep] [bleep]! Best weekend of my life, Dross! [Warnett and Brigg's lock up, and Briggs lifts Marty high above his head in a choke/necklock. D'Amato takes his time before checking for a choke, and even longer to make the five count, which is broken in the nick of time, causing Warnett to crash to the mat. Briggs wastes no time in applying a reverse chinlock, leaning back a painful-looking amount, which is verified by Marty, who screams in pain. Battalion realises he won't get a submission and lets go, causing Warnett's chin to bounce off the canvas. Battalion lifts up Warnett and applies an armlock, which is quickly flipover kip-upped by Warnett!] TD: Once again, that great counter wrestling by Marty, as now... yes... modified hangman! Haven't seen Marty use one of those before! SR: I bet there's not too much Marty hasn't used. He's just an all around user. TD: You better be talking holds. SR: Of course. Jointlocks and the like. [Battalion flails his arms madly as his neck is pulled over Warnett's shoulder, feet still touching the ground. Marty sees he can't hold on and just drops the neckbreaker. Marty whips his hair back as he rises, but the determined rookie rises as well, showing the effects but fighting on. Warnett bounces off the ropes... flying bodypress!] TD: One... two... SR: Three! TD: That wasn't even close, Steve. SR: I know. [Battalion throws Warnett off with terrible force, tossing him a good foot away. Warnett on his feet before Battalion, and connects with a dropkick, and another! Neither one manages to fell the giant, but a final running dropkick nails him completely out of the ring! Crowd pop!] SR: Dammit, I wanted to see Mr. Blunt get slaughtered. TD: Battalion is putting up a VERY good fight here... it's still... oh, never mind! [Warnett was standing on the apron, and hit the big man from there with a hurricanrana directly to the floor! Big pop! Both men are down from the move, slow to get up. Surprisingly, Briggs is up first, and grabs Warnett's brown locks, throwing him into the guardrail. Pop from the hardcore fans!] TD: Battalion getting cheered for his brutal tactics here tonight. [Briggs still won't let go of Marty's hair, and slams him into the steel steps, yanking him away afterwards!] SR: The big fella is playing tetherball with Warnett's head! He's gonna... TD: He may not. SR: He's gonna... TD: Steve. SR: ...BLEED! [This seems very likely now, as Battalion cracks the Guatemalan announcers' sound unit against Marty's cranium. BIG POP! Marty leans against the guardrail, in pain.] TD: Uh-oh... the locomotive gaining speed. Get outta the station, Marty! SR: CHOO-CHOO! [Battalion throws his full weight behind his shoulder into the sternum of the longt-ime IIWF star, causing the rail to bend at the joints and move back a good two and a half feet, pressing against the knees of the first row!] TD: Merciful heavens! Did you see that? SR: NO! I was too busy watching the new guy knock the snot outta Warnett! Stop looking at all those morons' signs! [Battalion grabs a nearby chair from the understaffed Guatemalan announcers and crashes it over Warnett's head with a resounding crack! Battalion climbing the stairs...] TD: Wow, the rookie is really turning things up a notch here. What's he doing...? Oh NO! [Battalion leaps with a legdrop -- and misses! Battalion looks extremely hurt! Apparently, Warnett has been hit with a chair before. Warnett gets in the ring when he regains his footing, breaking the count and D'Amato allows Battalion back in rather than count him out.  Warnett tries to suplex him into the ring, but Battalion blocks it, punching Warnett and knocking him over. He reenters the ring, and places Marty's head between his legs.] TD: Uh-oh. This could be bad. [Battalion hooks both arms in a double underhook, and tries to lift Warnett up for a Tiger driver. Warnett blocks, but can't escape the underhook, and once he's expended enough energy trying to escape, it is an easy matter for Briggs to hoist him upside down and plant him into the mat. D'Amato makes the count: 1 -- 2...] TD: Three! No! That was close! Still, good strategy by the rookie. All of the counts have been close in this match, it has almost ended on a number of occasions! Warnett is NOT looking good. SR: Like he was Snow White before. [Battalion picks up Warnett in front press slam position and drives him into the turnbuckle back first! Crowd pop! Relentless, he lifts the Party Maniac, easily placing him seated on the top rope, climbing the second rope himself.] TD: From what I know of this kid, once he gets you hoisted up there on that buckle, you're in HIS territory. Can't fly, but he loves heights. SR: So you're saying he's dangerous on top? LaRue coulda told you that, look at the size of him! [Warnett punches at Battalion's head in an attempt to get him off, but he stays put. A flurry of punches, but to no avail, as Battalion levels Marty with a punch that would have knocked him to the floor if Battalion's legs didn't lock him in place. Battalion applies a front face lock... top rope DDT!] TD: Wow! Fantastic move there by the rookie, and I think this one is elementary! Pin -- one, two... and a kickout by Warnett! Oh my! [A frustrated Battalion whips Warnett into the ropes, ducks his head for an overhead toss, but is on the receiving end of a crucifix instead! Not enough to pin Briggs, though. Marty nails the rising Battalion with an educated kneelift, sending him crashing to the mat. Marty pounces like a cat around Battalion's neck, rifling off a skewering DDT in lightning quick time. Big pop as Marty signals he's going up top!] TD: Are we gonna see a Hangover? SR: Talk to me later this evening! [Marty climbs the top as Battalion rolls over on his back in pain from the DDT. Marty flies off the top with beautiful precision -- at least in the flying department. His connection sorta sucks considering Battalion rolls out of the way.] TD: Great ring presence by the newcomer! Both men back to their feet. [Marty grasps his head, stumbling around, directly into a suplex position by Battalion! He lifts Marty up, but Marty sticks his leg between Briggs', and blocks the attempt, and uses his low center of gravity to reverse the momentum into a Northern Lights suplex, grasping Battalion's arm in midair! The count: 1 -- 2 -- and Battalion kicks out a moment too late -- 3! Ding! Ding! Ding! Huge pop!] TD: He got him!! ["Just Like Paradise" plays again.] SL: The winner of this match, as the result of a pinfall... the "Party Maniac" MARTY WARRRRRRRNEEEEEEEEET! TD: I don't think Battalion expected Marty to be able to lift him! A great showing by Battalion here, but he just couldn't handle Marty's counter-wrestling. I should say that if these two meet again, the result may be very different! SR: Nope. Village People Guy probably will be visiting Mark Destructo within a week. TD: I see a bright future for this powerhouse -- and obviously Marty does too, as he extends his hand in respect! [Battalion stares at Warnett's hand, and emotionlessly grasps it in a much too firm handshake, showing respect and making a point at the same time. Crowd pop from both the traditional and hardcore fans!] TD: Everything is gonna be okay. If our new VP has his way, all we'll be seeing is matches like these. Won't that be great? SR: Dross? TD: Yes, Steve? SR: Am I still with the promotion? TD: Yes, yes you are, Steve. SR: Damn. TD: Well, as Marty and Battalion leave the ring to the delight of the capacity crowd here in Salt Lake City, we got more action on the way on IIWF SATURDAY NIGHT -- and how! Up next, we have "Savage" Shadoe Rage, the King of Snow Brawl, taking on "Sychosys" Joe Petrow. SR: "Wrestle Clean" my ass, Dross. This one's gonna be a war. TD: Let's get up to the ring and find out! ________ ______ | || |\ \ /\ / /| __|.................................................. | || | \ v v / | __| "Savage" Shadoe Rage vs. "Sychosys" Joe Petrow |_||_| \_/\_/ |_|.................................................... WRITER: Daniel Spreadbury [Sparkplug Lee makes his way into the ring once more, eyeing the Sychopaths at ringside suspiciously.] RA: Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is scheduled for one fall... ["The Death March" booms out over the PA, the ferocity of the bass response causing Sparky to start a little in the ring. The lights in the Delta Center drop, and the fans greet this development with a big heel pop.] RA: Introducing first, hailing from Halifax, Nova Scotia, and weighing in at 248lbs, accompanied by Marissa Monet, here is the "King of Snow Brawl"... he is... "Savage" Shadoe Raa....argh! [Sparkplug turns and looks into the aisle, and is greeted by the sight of a pair of lions padding their way down to ringside! Huge pop from the fans! Sparkplug drops the mic and ducks to the outside, taking cover behind the timekeeper's table.] TD: Lions?! There are lions in the arena, Steve Roberts! SR: Curiouser and curiouser, Dross. [Closely following behind the lions are half a dozen beautiful, not to mention scantily-clad, ebony beauties, strewing rose petals over the aisleway.] SR: Aw, I gots to get me some of that, Dross. TD: You stay right there, Steve Roberts. What on earth is going on here?! [Behind these beautiful women come a dozen strong black men, who bear Shadoe Rage and Marissa Monet on their shoulders in a regal sedan chair. A further pair of beautiful black girls share the sedan chair with Rage and Monet, anointing them with exotic oils. Rage is dressed in his usual ring attire, his long, dark hair falling in waves around his sharp face, his eyes staring and intense, full of madness and frustration. He is garbed in glittering sequined cloaks and wears one long evening glove on his right hand in black.] TD: Well, say what you will about Shadoe Rage, Steve Roberts, but he certainly knows how to make an entrance. SR: Get these damned lions away from me, Dross. TD: Uh... nice pussy. SR: I bet that's the first time you've said that in years, Dross ol' buddy. [The black men bear the sedan chair down to ringside, and then lower it gently so that it is at the same level as the ring apron. Shadoe steps off the chair, and holds the ropes open for the slinky Monet, who gracefully bends and enters the ring. They enter the ring, followed by the oil-bearing girls, who once again lavish their attentions on Shadoe, removing his cloak. Underneath, he wears a wrestling leotard in black with purple accents, the boots, knee pads and an elbow pad.] TD: A couple of handlers are finally down here to get these lions away from ringside -- and not a moment too soon. I think one of them has taken a liking to Sparkplug. SR: In the name of all that is holy, Dross, I've never seen anything like this in my life. ["The Death March" fades from the PA as the throng of courtiers departs, leaving Rage and Monet alone in the ring. Monet bends to the canvas -- quite a long way for a woman who stands at 7'2" -- and picks up the microphone.] MM: Ladies and gentlemen... introducing... from wherever he imagines himself to be... weighing whatever he has decided to weigh and accompanied by his bath buddy partner in his weekly games of "Spot the Submarine"... the _fraud_ that is Joe Petrow! ["Just a Job to Do" by Genesis kicks in over the PA as a spotlight hits the ringside seating where the Sychopaths are congregated. But Petrow -- garbed in Hawaiian-style wrestling trunks, a red eyepatch, red glove, and red knee brace -- just sits in the stands with his arms crossed.] TD: Joe Petrow as obstinate as ever, Steve Roberts. SR: I'm surprised Petrow didn't head off to the locker room with all those red hot beauties, Dross. Mind if I knock off a little early tonight? TD: You'll be knocking off plenty soon enough, I'm sure, Steve Roberts -- for now, you stay right here. We have a job to do, you know. SR: And so does Joe Petrow, Dross. Come on, Crazy Joe -- get in the ring! [Referee Dave D'Amato motions for Petrow to get into the ring, but Petrow merely responds by chanting, "1... 2... 3!" bit, and all the Sychopaths around him flip D'Amato the bird.] TD: I think Petrow wants to throw this match, Steve Roberts. I think Joe Petrow wants to concentrate on his tag team title shot scheduled for later on tonight. SR: I don't think it's gonna work, Dross -- here comes the bossman. [The fans, who have been jeering Petrow's refusal to leave the stands, give a moderate pop as the bespectacled President Spreadbury makes his way to the ring, says a few words to Joe Petrow, and moves to the timekeeper's table, to consult with Sparkplug Lee. After a few moments, Lee stands and makes his announcement:] SL: Ladies and Gentlemen, I have just been informed that if Joe Petrow     does not make his way to the ring for this matchup, he will lose     this match, AND Team Sychosys will be forced to forfeit their     world championship match later tonight! [While the rest of the fans cheer, this brings the Sychopaths and McArthur to an uproar, but Petrow looks just looks like he kind of expected it.  Petrow talks to McArthur, then makes his way to the ring alone.] TD: Okay. It looks like we will at least have a match... oh, what the heck is this? SR: Petrow's goin' inside again, Dross. [The red eye patch, red glove, red knee-brace wearing Petrow walks into the ring, and, as soon as the bell rings, lies down in the ring, looking to deliberately get pinned. Huge jeers from the fans!] TD: Well, folks, I'm sure the significance of this is not lost on many of our fans -- but for those of you who are not familiar with the current circumstances of former Intercontinental Champion Creed... SR: ...check your local public access cable channel, because that's the only damned place you're gonna see that punk kid and his damned eye patch any more, staring at the ceiling in some bush league. TD: As always, the opinions of Steve Roberts do not necessarily represent those of the IIWF as a whole, ladies and gentlemen. SR: Although they damned well ought to, Dross. Ain't nobody who knows this business like the Soundbite, baby dolls. TD: Well, Shadoe Rage doesn't know what to do here -- he's just standing there, and Petrow is just lying there. This is ridiculous. [Monet yells at Rage to pick Petrow up, but as Shadoe Rage approaches "Sychosys", Petrow launches a two-footed kick to the groin area! Big pop! Petrow leaps to his feet, throws off his eyepatch, and swiftly uses his red-gloved fist to knock Rage off his feet with an uppercut. The crowd go wild as Petrow straddles Rage and begins paintbrushing him with shots from his fists.] TD: We finally have some action -- and Petrow is taking it to Shadoe Rage! SR: What are the odds on that glove being loaded, Dross? TD: Pretty high, I'd say, Steve Roberts -- Shadoe looks to be reeling already! Petrow now, allowing Rage to his feet, he spins him around... [Big Sycho pop as Petrow plants Rage to the mat hard with an Asspump! Petrow stands over Rage, apparently surprised at how easy it was to drop Rage. Shadoe rolls to his knees, himself apparently equally shocked. Petrow bounces off the ropes, and then drops his braced knee across the back of Shadoe's neck, planting Rage back to the mat! Big pop! Petrow rolls Shadoe over -- but does not go for the pin. Instead, he measures Rage... and then drops the braced knee on Rage's forehead again! Rage rolls slowly out of the way, and the fans are now beginning to jeer him.] TD: A somewhat anti-climactic performance from Shadoe Rage here, Steve Roberts -- Joe Petrow is apparently able to toss him around like a ragdoll in there. SR: Even the morons expected better from Shadoe Rage. Come on, my brutha! [Petrow waits for Rage to rise, and then throws a kick at him -- but Shadoe catches the foot! Big pop -- which soon turns to jeers once more, as Rage falls victim to a vicious Sychokick enzuiguri to the face! Rage goes down, and Petrow simply stands in the ring, looking to his Sychopaths, who are chanting "KICK HIS ASS! KICK HIS ASS!" Meanwhile, Marissa beats the mat beside Shadoe, apparently trying to motivate him once more. Petrow moves over to Rage once more, and drags him to his feet. He picks him up as if in position for a tombstone piledriver... and immediately, the Sychopaths in attendance go apoplectic!] TD: Oh my. Joe Petrow is setting Shadoe Rage up for the Knightmare! He hoists Shadoe up by the armpits -- oh my! [Petrow brings Rage _crashing_ down to the canvas face-first, to huge cheers from the fans! But before Petrow can make a cover on Rage, Marissa pulls Shadoe from the ring! Ringside fans pelt the pair with garbage as Monet supports her charge, and Petrow argues with D'Amato in the ring. Monet glares at the fans as they jeer her man, but her gaze softens as she looks at the battered Shadoe Rage. She cups his face in her long-fingered hands... and then kisses him. Suddenly, "Chariots of Fire" by Vangelis kicks in over the PA, and Shadoe's fans, the Angels of Death, begin to chime their bells.] TD: _Now_ what's going on here?! SR: Look at Shadoe, Dross! Man, a kiss from Marissa must really reach the places other beers don't reach... just look at Shadoe! [The transformation is stunning. Rage's eyes open wide once more, and regain that look of intensity -- bordering on insanity -- for which he is famed, and he then turns his attention to the ring. He rolls back into the ring under the bottom rope, and shakes off Petrow's attempts to stomp him out once more, grabbing Petrow's legs and yanking them out from under him! Big pop!] TD: Oh my! Shadoe Rage -- it's like he's impervious to pain, Steve Roberts! SR: I wonder where I've seen this before, Dross. [Both men get to their feet. Petrow throws a punch... Shadoe blocks! Petrow throws a kick... Shadoe grabs his foot, but spins him around immediately, grabbing him around the waist and dumping him on his head with a belly-to-back suplex! Both men pop straight back up to their feet, and Petrow hits Shadoe with a kick to the midsection. Rage is momentarily staggered -- but then straightens back up and launches himself at Petrow, flooring him with a clothesline! Again, Rage pops straight back up to his feet, closely followed by Petrow... his face no longer the picture of confidence.] TD: I don't know exactly what's happening here, folks -- but Shadoe Rage has certainly got some kind of a second wind... and that spells trouble for Joe Petrow! [Shadoe begins to beckon Petrow for more, and Petrow takes a swing at Rage's jaw. Rage rolls with the punch, but immediately stares right at Petrow, flips him the bird... and then boots him in the gut! Petrow is doubled over, and Rage then executes a throatbuster on the stunned "Sychosys"!] SR: That looks kinda familiar too, Dross. [Rage eschews the cover, instead dragging Petrow to his feet, and whipping him into the ropes. Rage bounces off the opposite ropes himself, and then launches himself in the air -- actually performing a complete somersault before hitting Petrow hard with a vicious, vicious clothesline! Big pop! The Angels of Death continue to ring their bells in the stands as Rage rises once more, and begins blasting Petrow with kicks to the throat. Petrow rolls to the outside to escape the onslaught, and Dave D'Amato attempts to prevent Shadoe from following.] TD: Watch out -- Monet has a chair! SR: I thought it was Van Gogh who painted the chair? TD: Shadoe has the official distracted -- Marissa has a chair -- oh my! [Without so much as a warning, Monet approaches the groggy Petrow, who finds himself fighting for breath on the outside, and blasts him with the chair, an almighty crack resounding around the arena, and Petrow dropping like a stone! Big, big pop! The Sychopaths are beside themselves as they see their leader almost out cold on the floor outside the ring. Monet holds the chair up to examine her handiwork.] SR: Wow! That chair has an imprint of Petrow's face in it, Dross! Kinda squashed, but the resemblance is remarkable! TD: Oh, this is bad, Steve Roberts -- I believe Joe Petrow may be out. That was one heck of a chair shot. [Shadoe finally pushes past Dave D'Amato and rolls to the outside, picking up Petrow, who has a gash three or four inches long opened up across his forehead, a gash that is now positively running with blood as Rage drags Petrow to his feet and rolls him into the ring, blood spattering onto the canvas.] TD: Oh, that is a nasty cut, Steve Roberts! The official needs to stop this match... SR: Petrow juiced the hard way, Dross! What a mama that Marissa Monet is... I gots to get to know her a little better, baby dolls. [Petrow's face is rapidly a crimson mask, his eyes half-closed and unable to see past the blood in any case. D'Amato moves to Petrow and asks whether he wants to continue -- but before he gets a satisfactory answer, Rage is on top of Petrow again, pushing the referee aside and rolling Petrow into the centre of the ring. The bells toll with ever more ferocity as Rage ducks through the ropes and heads for the skies...] TD: Oh my... Shadoe is on the top rope -- I'm not sure Petrow even knows where he is, Steve Roberts! SR: Bombs away! [Shadoe Rage launches himself with a corkscrew dive from the top rope -- which he manages to pike into a legdrop! Cameras flash all over the arena at the impressive aerial manoeuvre from Rage, whose leg connects hard with Petrow's neck! Big heel pop!] TD: Oh, the official should stop this match, Steve Roberts. Petrow isn't moving. [Indeed, the bloody Petrow remains motionless on the mat as Rage rises, straightening his long black evening glove as he does so. He forms a fist with his gloved hand, and the fans once again give a big pop. Rage drags Petrow to his feet yet again, and encloses Petrow's bloody face inside his hand...] TD: Hammer of God! Rage is setting Petrow up for the Hammer of God -- he has that claw-hold, and he hoists Petrow up... AND DOWN! Oh my! [Cameras flash all over the Delta Center as Rage lifts Petrow up, and then brings him crashing down to the canvas! Rage still makes no move to pin Petrow, instead looking at his now bloodied glove, and nodding to the fans. Another huge Rage pop!] TD: Oh no... Rage is hoisting Petrow up for another Hammer of God! This is awful! SR: Hey, you win some, you lose some... and it looks like Petrow's losing some blood here. TD: Rage hoists Petrow up... AND PLANTS HIM! Look at that glove on Shadoe Rage's right hand -- it's covered in blood. This is dreadful. [Rage finally looks satisfied with the destruction he has meted out, and drops over Petrow with a nonchalant cover, not even hooking the leg. The Sychopaths brace themselves for one of Petrow's trademark comebacks, but as D'Amato's hand hits the mat once... twice... three times... ...it is clear that none is forthcoming. Ding! Ding! Ding! D'Amato stands and raises Shadoe Rage's hand as the "Death March" again kicks in over the PA!] RA: Ladies and gentlemen, here is your winner, as the result of a pinfall: "Savage" Shadoe Rage! [Marissa Monet joins Rage in the ring, and kisses him again as he celebrates his victory. Shadoe looks down at Petrow in disdain, shaking his head before leaving the ring with Monet and heading up the aisle, saluted by the ringing of bells by his Angels of Death. Meanwhile, the Sychopaths are still holding their collective breath, waiting for their leader to pop up to his feet, but as Dave D'Amato leans over the still motionless Petrow, the fans in the arena begin to hush...] TD: There's... there's so much blood on Petrow's face, I can't tell if he's even conscious, Steve Roberts. [Suddenly, Petrow does make a move -- as he reaches up and grabs D'Amato by the lapel of his shirt, leaving a bloody handprint on the striped garment! Big Sychopop as Petrow rolls slowly to his knees, a paramedic rushing down the aisle to tend to his wounds. Petrow makes it to his feet as the jump-suited paramedic enters the ring, and Petrow allow him to approach... before spinning him around and dropping him to the mat with an Asspump! Huge Sychopop!] TD: Oh my! Petrow just attacked that medical technician... and he's trying to get back in the stands! Here comes security! SR: Aw, let him go back with all the other losers, ya brown-shirted meddlers. [A swarm of security staff dashes down to stop Petrow, and to take him to the back "for his own safety" to get medical attention.  Petrow wants none of this, and goes berzerk on everybody. Quickly, however, Security Chief Dennis "Griff" Griffing arrives on the scene, and actually handcuffs Petrow, and orders his men to carry "Sychosys" out, kicking and screaming. All the while, McArthur stands up and looks like he wants to go down and help his partner... but something is holding him back.  In the end, he sits down, opens up an envelope, and reads a paper inside. Cut back to the broadcast table at ringside.] TD: Joe Petrow displaying that incredible resilience of his, Steve Roberts -- but not in time to save himself from a defeat at the hands of the "King of Snow Brawl"... and now I have to wonder whether Petrow is going to be in any state to wrestle in that tag team championship match later on tonight. SR: My heart bleeds, Dross -- but not as much as Petrow's head. Damn, that was juicy. Like a ripe orange, Dross -- BAM! TD: You're disgusting, Steve Roberts. Folks, we'll try and get an update on Joe Petrow's condition later tonight -- but for now, we must move on. It's tag team action up next, as the Fabulous Ones go up against former IIWF World Tag Team Champions, the Lost Boyz. Let's get up to the ring! ________ ______ | || |\ \ /\ / /| __|.................................................. | || | \ v v / | __| Fabulous Ones vs. The Lost Boyz |_||_| \_/\_/ |_|.................................................... WRITER: Andre Dec [Sparkplug Lee takes his place in the centre of the ring and raises the microphone:] RA: Ladies and gentlemen, the following tag team encounter is scheduled for one fall. Introducing first, accompanied to the ring by Mr. Tsuburaya, hailing from Nagoya, Japan, and at a total combined weight of 525lbs, here are the "Universal Heartthrob" Agito Nakajima and "Sweet" Sho Satsuma... the Fabulous Ones! [Dokken’s “Kiss of Death” blares over the PA, alerting the crowd to the Fabulous Ones' presence.  “The Universal Heartthrob” Agito Nakajima, “Sweet” Sho Satsuma, and Mr. Tsuburaya, an older oriental gentleman wearing an Armani original suit comes out with them.  Mr. Tsuburaya is carrying a somewhat large package, wrapped up like a gift.  The trio enters the ring.  The women sound off in approval of Sho taking off his black leather, tuxedo jacket with tails, and tassles that run down the bottom of the sleeves, and posing for the crowd.  Flashbulbs go off from around the arena.  Sho’s ribs are noticeably wrapped up from the fight last Saturday night.  Agito calls for the microphone, and Sparkplug obliges.  Once Agito is ready to talk the music fades out.] AN: Hi, Ladies!  [Huge female cheer]  Sorry for the abnormal entrance,     but Sho and myself have a few things to take care of, before the     festivities. [Sho starts laughing.] AN: I’m sure you're wondering who the well dressed oriental person with     us is.  He’s the CEO, and the money man for Tsuburaya Enterprises.     He’s the reason all you beautiful women out there get to see us.     Welcome Mr. Tsuburaya. [Mr. Tsuburaya hands the package to Sho and bows to the crowd.] AN: Now, I’m sure you're also wondering what the present is for. [Agito points to the package that Sho holds up in the air for the crowd to see.] AN: It’s a little gift for the newest member of the Daimyo, PAUL WONG! [Agito points to the entrance way and Paul Wong with Ms. Miki come out to a huge heel pop.  Paul’s dressed in black slacks and a white button down dress shirt.  Ms. Miki is wearing a pink, flower patterned sun dress, with pink heels.  The men eat it up and return with a huge cheer.  They enter the ring.] AN: Well, Paul, because of your loyalty, and wrestling ability, The     Daimyo would like to give you a present. [Agito puts the microphone up to Paul’s face for comments as Sho hands the package to Paul.] PW: Guys, thanks.  You didn't need to... [Just as Paul start to unwrap the package, Bertha bursts out from behind the curtains.  Ms. Miki stops Paul and allows the Lovely Bertha to enter the ring.] LB: I wanted to be here for tonight’s festivities. [Paul then opens up the package.  With a look of bewilderment he stares in the box.  Then, looks up at Ms. Miki like a deer caught in headlights.  He stares for a few seconds, then drops the box to the mat.  The box bounces off the mat and the contents spill out.] PW: Guys... I don't understand... TD: [over the headset] It’s that '79 Rock’em Sock’em remote control doll the Fabs destroyed during an interview about bringing down the Machines.  Oh my! [Huge heel pop as Sho suddenly attacks Wong from behind!] SR: [over the headset] DAMN!  That had to hurt. [While Paul was staring at Ms. Miki, Sho snuck up from behind and double axe handled the back of Paul’s head, sending him to the mat.  Bertha grabs the microphone.] LB: Finish him off.  That’s what you get for being associated with Simon O’Neal. [Sho kicks the stunned Wong in the side.  Then, Agito grabs him by the head and lifts him to his feet.  Paul doesn’t even struggle. He looks at Ms. Miki with puppy dog eyes.  The microphone picks up some of what Ms. Miki’s saying.] MM: What wer... you thinki... I’m a married woman... what an idio... [Sho grabs the microphone from Bertha.] SS: Next time, make sure the bigger head does the thinking. [Sho follows his quote with a kick to the midsection.  Paul doesn’t fall down because Agito is still holding him.] TD: [over the headset] This is uncalled for!  It was all a set up. SR: [over the headset] I’ll let Ms. Miki set me up anytime. [Ms. Miki slaps the helpless Wong, the crack resounding around the Delta Center.  Big mixed pop!] SS: Where’s your friend now?  You should have stayed loyal, you dolt! [Agito lets go Paul and climbs to the top turnbuckle.  Sho then puts Paul in a vertical suplex position and hands him to a wobbly Agito. Agito then puts him over his shoulder and leaps off.] TD: [over the headset] Oh my!  We need some help out here!  Agito just     executed a powerslam off the top turnbuckle! [Just then a few of the Jobber Justice Squad run to the ring, only to be swatted by knee lifts and kicks as they try to enter the ring.   Agito climbs to the second turnbuckle.  Sho climbs up to the top turnbuckle, and leans over into a gorilla press slam position above Agito.  Agito leaps and slams Sho onto the prone Paul, who even if he could move wouldn’t have been able to due to the fact the Ms. Miki, Lovely Bertha, and Mr. Tsuburaya were holding him down.] TD: This is ridiculous!  Now what are they going to do? [Agito picks Paul up in a gorilla press slam, and throws him out of the ring onto the floor.] SR: Incoming! [Paul’s lifeless body hits the corner of the timekeeper's table.  The table kicks up off the ground at the other end, sending the ring bell flying!] SR: TORPEDOES AWAY! [More of the Jobber Justice Squad flood the ringside area, trying to keep the Fabs from doing anything more to Paul.  At that point, Agito grabs the ring bell off the floor.  But, because of the sea of Jobbers between him and Paul he can’t use it, until...] TD: Did you see that? SR: BOMBS AWAY! [Sho leaps off the top turnbuckle out towards the floor, nailing the group of JJS members, taking them all down to the floor.  This allows Agito to charge in and smash the slightly stirring Paul Wong with the ring bell!  *CLANG!*] SR: You sank my battle ship! TD: What are you talking about, Steve Roberts?! [Referees come out from the backstage area and break the ruckus up. Agito and Sho climb back into the ring and prepare for their match with the Lost Boyz.] TD: Thank goodness they stopped.  Now, maybe we can get Paul some     help... [Just then Sho speaks into the microphone.  He’s setting at the bottom of one of the corners.] SS: I once saw this on the tube, and thought if he can do it, so can I.     [He clears his throat.]   What you’ve witnessed here was a lesson in loyalty.  Paul turned his back on his friends.  For this he received his punishment. [At this time, a stretcher is brought out for Paul.] SS: Paul!  I feel your pain.  [Loud booing]  I know what you're going     through.  You wanted to get close to the Fabulous Ones, but like     Icarus you flew too close to the sun.  You forgot your friends and     family, you became greedy and selfish. [The JJS roll the limp body of Paul on the stretcher and start to walk back to the backstage area.  At that point Sho stands up and climbs the second turnbuckle facing the entrance way that the JJS are carrying Paul down.] SS: We will miss you... friend!  [Sho bows his head down, and receive a     huge heel pop. Then looks back up at the crowd.]  Quote the     “Sweetness”, nevermore! TD: How vain can you get? SR: The gay guys surprised me.  That was pretty impressive.  Now, can we get that piece of ass Ms. Miki to lose some clothes? TD: Steve Roberts, I'm surprised at you... didn't you ever want anything in your life you couldn't have? SR: Well, yeah... but I always get it in the end. TD: And you call them the gay guys. SR: Watch it, Dross. I am the Black Jesus of the IIWF, here... TD: Whatever... looks like poor Paul's just getting more and more abuse from the fans... I wonder how many of them are going to think back on this tonight? SR: The morons think? [Paul Wong is carried from the arena, leaving the laughing Fabulous Ones in the ring, celebrating their heinous deeds. The crowd jeer them solidly, as Sho and Agito re-enact parts of the assault, laughing all the while.] TD: This is disgusting. Let's hope the Lost Boyz come out here and slap the smiles right off the faces of these two ingrates. [Sparkplug Lee once again raises the microphone, and is about to make his announcement, when the crowd let forth a big cheer! A spotlight hits the aisle, showing Awesome T sauntering down to ringside wearing a "NYPD" hat, along with his usual attire.  He pulls out a badge and shows it to Sparkplug Lee, who then immediately gives him the mic.] SR: Oh, what's this mook doing here now? AT: Ladies and gentlemen... it appears that the Lost Boyz went to go look for their lost reputation, and are unable to make it here tonight. But justice must be served tonight, and you... [points to the Fab Ones] ...you're the problem in this area.  Ladies and gentlemen, may I introduce the solution. [Kick in "Down Boys" by Warrant.  Big pop!] SR: Oh Christ, no.... AT: From Miami, Florida and Malibu, California respectively... at a total combined weight of 457 pounds... those bastions of justice...     those defenders of rights... the men who make the IIWF a safe place     to wrestle... "Superstud" Adam Peterson and "Dazzling" Dan Oliver... THE DOWN BOYS! [Enormous Down Pop as they race to the ring... the Fabs looking more than a little distressed at this. The DB's come down to ringside, with police hats and dark Ray-Bans, but still dressed in their regular wrestling attire.  Once they get into the ring, T hops out, still with the mic, and states:] AT: And in keeping with our police theme, we'll do what all policemen     do, according to television. [On that cue, the Down Boys turn their backs to the Fab Ones and moon them!] AT: ...and that's bare our asses on national TV. [HUGE pop as Agito and Sho start slamming the ropes, Ms. Miki turning away in a fierce blush, and Bertha looking... intrigued?] SR: God, how prepubescent can you get? TD: Nonetheless they seem to have got the Fabs' attention here... and Sho launches himself out of the ring at them! [Ding! Ding! Ding! The match gets underway, the fans cheering wildly!] TD: I can only imagine that the Lost Boyz have been suffering from travel difficulties, like Ronnie Paris -- oh my! Sho with a Plancha into Peterson's back... and Agito leaping on Oliver! SR: See? What'd I tell you? Gay guys.  One glimpse of bare ass and they can't control themselves. [As if telling the total truth, the Down Boys are pinned to the ground outside the ring by both Fabs, who pound mercilessly on their backs. Bertha and Ms. Miki move towards the pile, but are blocked by T, who seems to be saying something in Japanese to Tsurayaba... long enough for the Fabs to lift up the Down Boys and lob them in the ring... Sho steps in while Agito moves to his corner] SR: Tags... go fig. TD: Hip toss by Sho... and look at him... SR: He calls it the Nagoya Strut. Methinks I smell a Double J here... TD: Double J? SR: Yeah.... "Jealous Jerkoff". TD: Sho picking up Adam Peterson again... Hip toss... No! Blocked! [Adam Peterson, using his quickness, leaps up and hooks Sho's other arm in a leg scissors, rolling him forward in a reverse crucifix pin. Sho kicks out on two, but is met when he stands by a snap huracarana from a refreshed Adam P.] TD: Down Boys balance the match early here! SR: Rule one, gay boys. Well, this applies to all of them, I guess... don't strut until the person is DAMN hurt, not just scratched. Of course, way these sissy boys fight, I could be an old man with no libido before that happens. TD: No libido? SR: I know... this heart may one day stop beating... but I will never be dead in bed. TD: Peterson tagging in Oliver, who scoops up Sho and nails the Michinoku Driver! SR: Mooshi-mooshi driver? TD: Michinoku. SR: God bless ya. TD: ...earns a count of two with that move... quick tag to Adam Peterson, who boosts Sweet Sho up on his shoulder... running power slam! SR: And here comes Oriental Gay Guy Two.... [Agito drags Peterson off his partner, landing a few solid stomps to the base of his spine, before Dan Oliver comes into the ring and pinpoint dropkicks Agito on the back of the head...] TD: Do all tag matches end up a four on four? SR: Hey, they're gay guys... they love orgies. TD: You love orgies too, if I recall... SR: Yeah, but that was a long time ago... before all the girls on "Facts of Life" got fat... TD: I don't ask... SR: Yeah, but I'll willingly tell! [The Down Boys have gained the quick advantage and a double dropkick sends Agito back out of the ring...focusing on Sho, a double whip to the ropes leads to Oliver dropping to his belly and, as Sho jumps him, caught in a tilt-a-whirl backbreaker by Peterson.] TD: Another pin attempt, but Sho kicks out just at two... I tell you -- something in the air tonight just feels electric. SR: Static, Dross... these dry places just soak it up. TD: No... I mean with a world champion here... maybe.... SR: Look, it ain't gonna be Thunder-thighs... he's gone. What do you think, Boy Rectum's come back to fondle the tag division now? Now if old Otto made his return... hell, I'd be glad of that... TD: Meanwhile, an armbar submission here on Sho... and he's in trouble... SR: These gay guys haven't had an effective outing against the Pop Up Video rejects yet. TD: And Sho finally reaching the ropes... This tag team division is just getting hotter and hotter by the minute, Steve... SR: Well, you got the American Drag Queens, my Sycopaths, these two reasons to pour more chlorine in the gene pool, the Hardly Queens, and the one hardcore, worthwhile, damn fantastic team this fed has in the Prophets of Rage, all chasing after two critters with the glinty shiny belts... I tell ya Dross, there ain't no justice. TD: Irish whip by Peterson... following him in... Superkick by Sho! SR: Pulled that move out of his ass... TD: And the tide has slowly turned... he's a bit woozy, but he's pulling Peterson to his corner and tagging in Agito! SR: About time... the bigger gay guy should have been tagged in a while back. TD: Double team now... and a vicious Double slingshot suplex to affect Peterson's already injured back... [Agito presses Adam Peterson high above his head, yelling to the crowd "I'm not only the sexiest, I'm the strongest!" before dropping him near mid-ring. He tags in Sho, who he lifts in a suplex, slamming him down in a pin on Adam Peterson.] TD: A nice combo they call "Hotto Keki" there... Peterson out on two. SR: Yeah... pancake move. Sho moves Peterson to his feet, snap suplex and a pin... aw, damn, he kicked out. TD: Doesn't this type of match interest you, Steve? SR: The tag scene is something that's a dying art. Yeah, you got youngsters like the Predators, people who have done it for years like the Down Boys or Harlequins, and vets who try like Starks and the Psycho... but look at the tag scene here... used to be a place where skill mattered -- and now it's just a bunch of cut rate dramatics. I love Joe Petrow like a brother, Dross, but his theatrics make him the perfect ringleader for this male soap opera. [In the ring, Sho tags in Agito, and they set Peterson for the double suplex... Peterson blocks it and the fans come alive with a huge Down pop as he drops both men with a Double Diamond Cutter] SR: That was new. TD: What a move by Adam Peterson -- he's crawling now to get to his corner... SR: Tsubayara up on the ring apron! He's distracting the ref! Damn, how stupid are these referees? TD: And he falls! Awesome T nails him in the back with the baseball bat! SR: Take down that corporate so and so! TD: So and so? SR: Well, I lost a bet... and had to say it somewhere in the show. TD: Uh, right. Tag to Dan Oliver! [Enormous Pop as Dan Oliver laps over the top rope, seizing both Agito and Sho by the hair and ramming their heads together... Picks up Sho as both Ms. Miki and Bertha begin yelling at him, flashing skin, etc. etc. trying to distract him... pressing Sho HIGH above his head, yells out "The Bitch is Back!" before lobbing Sho over the top rope on top of both women. ROOF RATTLING DOWN POP!] SR: Told you they were gay... TD: Oh my... wouldn't advocate ever hurting a lady... but that was long overdue justice for the women of the Fab Camp. SR: Yeah! And now I can see just about everything of Ms. Miki worth seeing... TD: Dropkick from Oliver! He's on fire! SR: He's a flamer? I told you! TD: Looks like Dan's Setting up for the S.Y.P.... [Sho, enraged as Bertha and Miki both lay unconscious... and Miki partially exposed by his crash... reaches to her neck and snaps off a thin chain, wrapping it around his fist. leaping up to the apron, he slams his wrapped fist into the back of Oliver's knee, causing him to fall unreadily.] SR: That's like using brass knuckles, only not as effective! TD: Will you shut up, Steve Roberts?! It's still a foreign object -- why isn't Chuck Sanders disqualifying them? [Chuck Sanders goes to check Sho's fist, and is greeting by a strong shot to the face.] SR: Question answered? TD: Oh my! Ring the bell! Referee down! [As the bell rings to DQ the Fabs, Awesome T leaps up on the apron, only to be nailed in the face himself... long enough a distraction for Adam Peterson to land a solid superkick to the back of Sho's head, sending him over the top rope... as he helps his partner up, Agito rolls out under the ropes as Sparky stands to make his announcement:] SL: The winners of this match... as the result of a disqualification... the DOWN BOYS! [Huge Down Pop, as Adam Peterson takes the mic.] AP: Hey Fabs! Once bitten... TWICE SHY! [Loud cheers as the Fabulous Ones, in total disarray, make their way back to the locker rooms, the Down Boys pumping the crowd.] TD: What a match... and the Fabs lose another to the Down Boys. SR: What these two teams need is a steel cage match -- no outside interference, nothing but good blood and guts -- and after the Prophets got hold of these two last week, safe to say NO ONE thinks that they're the pretty boys here anymore. [The Down Boys eventually leave the ring, and make their way up the aisle, slapping hands with as many fans as they can, before disappearing back to the locker rooms. Cut back to the broadcast table at ringside.] TD: Now, if you'll excuse me, Steve Roberts, I have a very special interview to conduct with the man who... well, who scared the bejeezus out of everyone in the IIWF last week on Saturday Night... SR: Go ahead, Dross.  I'll carry things here like I usually do.  I am the Announcer of the Year, y'know.  Hell, Steve Manning's brother won that award last year, maybe he's ticked at _me_ now or something. [Dross steps into the ring, as the fans silence a little bit.] TD: Ladies and gentlemen... notwithstanding the retirement of "Quickstrike" Chris Quigley, his spirit seems to be carried on by his one time cohort. Last week we saw just a sample of the lengths Steve Manning with go to in order to get a point across.  With that in mind... please welcome "SANGUINARY" STEVE MANNING! ["The Frayed Ends of Sanity" by Metallica blares over the PA and the crowd responds with a major series of booes, aside from one section of fans proudly wearing black t-shirts with red lettering reading, "The Sangui-Knights!", who are cheering on Manning like he was a false god. Manning emerges from behind the curtain wearing shredded blue jeans and a black t-shirt which reads in bold white letters, "Dyslexia 61:3".  The "Sanguinous One" climbs into the ring and beckons for Dross to walk over near him.  Dross obeys and begins to speak.] TD: Well, Steve Manning, it's nice to see you make a conventional entrance of sorts, after your actions last week... SM: Shut up for a minute, fat-ass!  [crowd pop!] SM: I wanna "ed-ja-ma-cate" the masses for a moment.  Y'see, according to Webster, and I've never known him to be wrong before, the definition of "screw" is as follows... in mechanics, a machine consisting of an inclined plane wound round a cylinder; cylinder with a spiral ridge running round it, used as holding agent or as mechnical power; turn of screw; twist to one side; a screw propeller; to fasten with screw; to press or stretch with screw; to work by turning; to twist around; to obtain by pressure; to extort; to assume a spiral motion; to move like a screw... [Crowd chants "Boring!  Boring!" at Manning, who pauses for a moment to glare at the fans.] SR: [over headset]  What's scary is that this guy was supposed to have more charisma than Quigley... sheesh. SM: Now, Webster my friend, it's time for an update because after Snow Brawl, Joe Petrow and the IIWF gave new meaning to the word "screw".  What happened to the _legendary_ -- yeah, you heard me, _legendary_ -- Chris Quigley was the best example of getting screwed that I've ever seen. TD: Mr. Manning, Chris Quigley lost fair and square.  He admitted it himself in one of the classiest int... SM: [interupting]  Hey!  I said _shut it_, "Pop'n Fresh"!  [Crowd pops!] SM: [points to the giant video wall]  I'd ask all you scumbags to look to the video screen.  Let's see if you can notice something that I, of course, have noticed. [The video screen lights up.  The first scene is shown as the audio of the broadcasters can be heard as well: Petrow laboriously flips his way out of the hold and to his feet, where he is quickly able to establish a top wristlock... which Quigley maneuvers into an armwring and then thrusts Petrow's right arm over his shoulder and down with an armbreaker... armbreaker... armbreaker... The pain is evident on the face of "Sychosys" as he reverses the armwring and goes behind for a hammerlock. Quigley swings a back elbow which Petrow ducks, grabbing the arm for a double hammerlock takedown. Quigley hits the ground with purpose, however, floating over into a crucifix armbar across the back of Petrow that he then joins with an arm scissors for a shockingly fast double armbar submission that brings the concerned Sychopaths to their feet as their hero clearly writhes in pain! Petrow now demonstrates concern, just able to jerk a leg over the bottom rope and cause Joey Patrick to break the hold. The screen goes black.] SM: Now, what did we notice in that first clip?  The _legendary_ Chris Quigley had Joe Petrow in a double armbar submission, and Joe Petrow hooked himself into the ropes, and as it states on page 12, Section K13 of the IIWF Rulebook, "In a submission attempt, if any portion of the victim's body is in contact with the ropes or any part of the body is outside the boundaries of the ropes, on either the man in control or the victim, the hold must be broken."  That's the rules, people.  Now, let's take a look at that lovely video screen once again... [The screen lights up, as the sights and sound of a new scene begin: Joe Petrow is around Chris Quigley's neck with a gorgeous hurricanarana that snaps the "Quickstrike" through the air and leaves him heels over head, upside down and hooked up in the corner! The crowd squeals as Petrow slides back underneath the bottom rope... moving to the apron and to Quigley's head... Petrow wraps his legs around Quigley's head in a sankaku jime leglock and then grabs the flailing arms of the Quickstrike, thrusting them through the ropes in a butterflied double hammerlock... and then cinches back! A snippet of the original commentary is heard:] TD: Quigley's... Quigley's impaled! Quigley's impaled against the     buckle! Upside down... nowhere to run... nowhere to hide... Chris     Quigley is locked up by Joe Petrow!! [Petrow rears back for all he is worth, fifty two thousand men, women and children screaming as one, while Chris Quigley silently goes through a kind of torture rarely seen outside of prison camps... Petrow yells out as his own devastated right arm is now forced to support his weight, Petrow standing on the apron and ramming his full weight into the air... Petrow hanging outside the ring as Quigley becomes more... and more... and more compressed into the buckles... Quigley attempting to maneuver his legs... his arms... his... his... his... Petrow screams. Quigley screams.> Quigley's scream is two words. Two words that ring like a shot throughout the wrestling universe.] TD: HE QUITS! QUIGLEY QUITS! IT'S OVER!!! IT'S OVER!! PETROW WINS!!     PETROW WINS!! [The crowd roars in a mixture of shock and exhaustion as Petrow, breaks the hold and slumps down to the apron as Chris Quigley falls broken to the canvas. The screen goes black again as Sparkplug Lee rises to announce Petrow as the winner. The camera goes back to the ring, where Dross is standing, a quizzical look on his face, as Manning, who appears visibly upset at even watching the footage of the match, shakes it off and grabs Dross' wrist, pulling the microphone to his mouth.] SM: Now, how can I put this eloquently... What the [BLEEEEEEEEEP] was that all about?! [The "Sangui-Knights" in attendance begin chanting "Screwjob!  Screwjob!" while the other fans remain silent.  Manning nods and smirks, his point taken as he had hoped.] SR: [over headset]  Ohfer... I knew it.  Quigley didn't whine.  But of course, _somebody_ had to. TD: Uh... I guess there is a viable point there, Steve.  But... well, I don't know how our staff missed that, but... the past is past. SM: You're damn right the past is past.  The IIWF may have _killed_ Chris Quigley.  They may have _buried_ him in an avalanche at Snow Brawl, because we all know what a valuble asset Joe Petrow is, but lemme tell ya this... as long as I'm in the IIWF, [BLEEP] like this won't stand.  Quigley took it like a man, he left all classy, because of course, to him, whether he was hooked in the ropes or not, he still said the words that he never wanted to say.  He said the words that he was _forced_ to say, not by Joe Petrow, but by the IIWF, and by you people, and by every single element that was driving against him in these last two years! SR: [over headset]  Cool!  Technically, I made Quigley submit! [Manning's yelling has him almost breathless, so to "solve" this problem, he removes a cigarette from a plastic carton in his hip pocket and lights it up.] TD: Well Steve, you're entitled to your opinion, as are the fans of the IIWF.  But the fact remains, Chris Quigley has accepted the loss and moved on.  And where exactly is he at this time, Steve? SM: [blows smoke in Dross' face]  He went off by himself to Alaska, Dross. Dunno why.  Dunno when I'll see him again.  All I know is that for a man like Chris Quigley, they oughta have Odin's maidens carry him off to Vahalla in a golden chariot. TD: Uh-huh.  You're surprisingly educated for a psycho... SM: What was that? TD: I said, what are your thoughts on Joe Petrow? SR: [over headset]  Quick thinking, Dross. SM: Joe Petrow.  The sardonic Joe Petrow.  Everyone knows what kinda guy Joe Petrow is.  I don't need or want to bring that up here.  Oh what the hell... Joe Petrow is not a _man_.  He's a patch on a man's ass.  He's the scum that forms on the floors of shower rooms.  He's as loyal as a pet Boa Constrictor.  He has the integrity of a pathological liar.  And he knows, deep down inside, that he'll _never_ be as good as Chris Quigley.  He knows that he's not in that class yet, and the day they call Joe Petrow legend, is the day I chop off my [BLEEP] and stick a red hot poker up my ass. SR: [over headset]  Yeowch. TD: But, Joe Petrow has beaten you before.  By submission.  Cleanly.  No ropes.  No controversial calls. SM: Things change, Dross.  Everyone knows, if ya shove Spreadbury, he'll give you a push. [Manning smirks as the "smarts" in attendance pop.] SR: [over headset] How profound. SM: I've got more backstage power than Creed, and Petrow, if you wanna dance with the devil, you better bring your tap shoes.  And I have _no_ [BLEEP]ing idea what that means, but it sounds pretty truculent, so I'll stick with it. TD: Very well, Steve.  Oh, and incidentally, I know how you love that hardcore, pure fighting style.  What did you think of the big Kowalski versus Thunder match at Snow Brawl. SM: Well, Dross.  The _legendary_ Chris Quigley requested that I got the hell out of the arena after my match was over, so I wouldn't be tempted to interfere in the Submission Match.  But I _did_ catch that title match on tape.  And what can ya say?  It didn't suck.  But as for the two pansy-asses who attempted to wow the fans... I can say a lot. SR: [over headset]  Uh-oh. TD: [shaking his head] Oh, do go on... SM: Steve Kowalski, in his lil' snot green tights.  He has made the IIWF World Heavyweight Title into something profane.  I've never seen a more undeserving schmuck in my life, and I'm sure he'll get on my case and tell me he's gonna open up his can of Whoop Ass or Mooselips or whatever, but the only thing I can say is... everyone of the "Furies" are queer! [Massive heel pop from the "Furies" in attendance, as the "Sangui-Knights" laugh it up.  Manning smirks, happy with the response he got from such a simple insult.] TD: And -- I'm almost afraid to ask -- Brody Thunder? SM: [laughs, then draws back on his cigarette.]  Awww... so the big, tough cowboy had to take a lil' break? TD: [exasperated]  He wanted to spend some time with his son, Mr. Manning. There is nothing wrong with that. SM: [shakes his head]  No, no, of course not.  Spend all the time with him ya can, tinhorn.  Cause when ya come back, I'll see to it that yer little boy will never see ol' Daddy Thunder again.  Listen, Clint, kid... you can take advantage of your primogeniture soon enough.  After I finish with your father and that termagant of his! [The confused crowd, _assuming_ Manning insulted Thunder and his family, give Manning a heel pop.  Steve Roberts is heard fumbling around at his broadcast table.] SR: [over headset]  I've got it!  A dictionary!  Whoah!  He called Mrs. Thunder a "shrewish woman"! TD: I think you may have crossed the line, there, Mr. Manning. SM: Trust me, the line may be drawn in the sand, but as the cliché goes... you ain't seen nothin' yet! ["The Frayed Ends of Sanity" starts up again, as the fans, besides of course the "Sangui-Knights", boo like crazy.  Manning revels in it though, as he flicks his cigarette in Dross' face and jumps out of the ring cursing and swatting at the fans before he disappears behind the curtain.  Tim Dross returns to the broadcast table and dons his headset once more.] TD: Well, say what you will about Steve Manning, but he certainly has a way with words. SR: And how.  This dictionary is cool, Dross.  Do you know what a faggot is? TD: Uh... is this a trick question? SR: It's a bundle of sticks!  You dirty minded fool! TD: Oh... sorry.  Folks, that's it for our first hour. We'll be back in just a few moments with more IIWF action -- including that big title match between Steve "the Fury" Kowalski and the Meatman. We'll be finding out whether Joe Petrow is going to be in any state to wrestle in that Tag Team Championship match against the Natural Predators -- and don't forget that a world champion is rumoured to be here tonight in Salt Lake City! We'll be right back! [Cut to a wide-angle shot of the arena, the spotlights in the rigging above the ring swinging wildly over the crowd and bathing them in bright colours as they wave their signs and merchandise. Fade.] +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= I * I * W * F =-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-+ | President: Daniel Spreadbury | Vice-President: Gregg Osterhout | | univ0322@sable.ox.ac.uk | ghost@frii.com | | iiwf@sisko.demon.co.uk | | +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- http://www.sisko.demon.co.uk -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=+