________ ______ | || |\ \ /\ / /| __| | || | \ v v / | __| |_||_| \_/\_/ |_| ______ ______ \ \ / / _______ \ \ __ /__ / | ____ \ _______ __ \____ \ | | /| | / __ _____ _____ | | \ \/_ _| \ | |/ ___\ \ | | _/ | | / / \ | __ \/ ____| | |___/ / | | | \| | /\__ \ | |/ \| |/ / /\ \ | |_> | /____ | ____ < | | | \ \ |/ /_ \ \ | / /\ \ | / ____ \| __ <\____ \ | | \ \_| |_| |\ |\___\ \ \| / \ |/ / \ \ | \ \____\ \ |_| |_|____/|_| \_|______/ |_/ \_|\/ \/_| |_|______/ \ / \ / \______/ T + H + E R + A + G + E A + N + D T + H + E F + U + R + Y ________________________________________________________________________ \ / \ Saturday 21 March 1998 / / Wembley Stadium, London, England \ /______________________________________________________________________\ H + O + U + R T + W + O [Fade back up on interior shots of Wembley Stadium, as the eighty-five thousand fans lining the arena cheer wildly! Another volley of brightly coloured fireworks shoot up into the night sky, erupting in showers of sparks high above the fans. The shot pan down past row upon row of excited faces, finally coming to rest on Tim Dross and "Soundbite" Steve Roberts at ringside.] TD: Welcome back, folks, to the second hour of tonight's incredible pay-per-view spectacular! What action we've already seen... but there is so much more still to come here tonight. Later tonight, we'll see all four IIWF championships on the line in unique matches, but ahead of that, we have four more tremendous matches, all with unique stipulations, and all with a good deal of history leading up to them. SR: Sheesh, Dross, let's not do the Free For All again, buddy. TD: Indeed. To kick off this hour, we have the long-awaited final confrontation between Deathbringer and Harlequin Tragedy -- with Deathbringer's mask at stake. Have you ever seen a near seven foot man in a ladder match before? Because that's what we're about to see, folks! [Cut to a shot of the aisle, as a pair of ring technicians carry a fifteen foot stepladder down the rampway, setting it up halfway down. They nod to one another, and head back to the locker rooms.] TD: There's the ladder, so we're all set! Let's get back up to the ring for this one! ________ ______ ..........................| || |\ \ /\ / /| __|......................... | || | \ v v / | __| |_||_| \_/\_/ |_| MASK LADDER MATCH: Deathbringer vs. Harlequin Tragedy ........................................................................ WRITER: Dan Kondziela TD: Here we go with the first match for hour two of our gigantic three hour Ring Wars 5 spectacular. We have what should be an intriguing matchup between two men who have feuded on end over one man's mask. Hopefully, we can settle the score tonight. SR: Christ, two guys fighting over a mask. How low you two have fallen. Hey, Dross, what if Tragedy wins? TD: I guess he has a battle trophy and 'Bringer will keep wearing that goalie mask. SR: Hey, Dross, you seen those NHL commercials on FOX? HA! "Fleury's 5'6". You're practically 5'6"!" TD: Hockey references aside, let's get to our intrepid.... SR: I thought "Merrimac" already wrestled tonight! TD: Not _that_ "Intrepid"! Our brashly-dressed colleague, Sparky. [Sparkplug Lee stands in the ring and raises his microphone, as a spotlight illuminates the steel step ladder set up in the aisle.] SL: Lords, ladies and blokes, welcome to hour two of Ring Wars 5! [Big crowd pop!] SL: Our next match is scheduled for one fall and is a special "Mask Ladder Match"! The rules of this contest are simple: Deathbringer's mask will be suspended from the rigging above the ring, and a steel stepladder is provided in the aisle. To win, the ladder must be brought into the ring, and one man must retrieve the mask, landing in the ring with both feet on the canvas. [Even bigger crowd pop!] SL: First, about to make his way down the aisle, accompanied by the entire Harlequin stable, from Sleepy Hollow, Illinois, standing 5'10 and weighing in at 220lbs, Harlequin Tragedy! [Boos all around for the troupe of evil jesters, except for a few catcalls for the Harlequinettes, who lead the way, most of which seem to be coming from Steve Roberts. The girls go to sit with Steve, one on either side. They both pick up spare headsets.] TD: Welcome to the broadcast booth, ladies. SR: A married woman AND her young lithe friend! You know the line, buddy! TD: So, how's the weekend turning out for you, Steve Roberts? SR: Best weekend of my freakin' life, baby dolls! [The girls giggle at the statement. Chaos passes by with a wry smile on his face, saying "A brain surgeon, huh?" Terror is still screaming about Binky. Tragedy enters and gives the mask to the ref, Chuck Sanders, who signals to the technical crew to lower the hook from the rigging. The Harlequins watch nervously as a hook is lowered, allowing Sanders to hang the mask. Sanders gives the technicians the thumbs up, and a spotlight follows the mask as it is raised up some twenty feet above the canvas. Big pop!] TD: And there is what this match is all about, Steve Roberts -- that mask is so much more than simple stitched cloth. For Deathbringer, it is a symbol of his mystery -- and for Tragedy, it's symbolic of the fact that he has been able to dominate the Dark Destroyer like no other man in IIWF history. [Sparkplug Lee waits for the crowd noise to die down before raising the microphone to his lips once more:] SL: And his opponent, from The Dark Side, tonight wrestling his five hundredth professional match, accompanied by the Blind Guardian, standing at 6'10" and weighing in at 320lbs, here is... DEATHBRINGER! [Monstrous face pop for the veteran as the lights in the arena drop completely, save for a single spotlight picking out the mask as it spins slowly above the canvas. "Scythe, Rage and Rose" by Dark Tranquility blasts out over the PA system as the fans await the arrival of the Deathbringer.] SR: Where exactly is the Dark Side? COMEDY: Near Parts Unknown. Beautiful place. MELODY: Of course, we can always show you OUR dark side. SR: ME-OW! [Suddenly, there is a huge explosion, and a massive pyro in the ring blazes the number "500" in brilliant white sparks! Huge pop from the fans as a spotlight also shines down into the aisle, where Deathbringer is standing atop the ladder, his palm outstretched towards Tragedy, who bails out of the ring, fearful of being burned by the sparks from the fireworks.] TD: What an ovation for this legend of the ring! SR: OH! Did you see that? Holy cow! TD: OH MY! Tragedy just did a baseball slide, knocking Deathbringer right off the ladder! [The match quickly goes to the outside. Tragedy stomps away at Deathbringer's knee. The Tragic One picks the Bringer up and hotshots his knee onto the fallen ladder.] TD: Tragedy getting absolutely brutal with Bringer's knee. SR: What a dumb-ass. HEY! You can't win by submission, you clown! [Comedy slaps Steve.] SR: Ow! It's the truth. COMEDY: No, not that! He's not a clown. He's a Harlequin. SR: No, that's that girl from the Batman animated series. She looks amazingly like Melody. MELODY: Hey, I'm no cartoon! Funny girl over there, on the other hand... [By this time, Tragedy has slammed the ladder on Bringer every which way. He sets Deathbringer against the steps. He charges with the ladder, slamming it into Bringer's knee. Trag rolls into the ring and distracts the ref, then remembers there's no DQ, so he lets Chaos and Terror beat up on Deathbringer in full view of the official. Blind Guardian comes around and chases the two off. Tragedy blasts Bringer with a superkick to the knee, then follows with a kneebreaker.] SR: He beats on his knee, but waits till now to do a kneebreaker. What a c... [Comedy stares hard at Steve.] SR: ...oncept. What?! What did I do now?! TD: Uh-oh, here comes that clown. SR: Harlequin! Oh, you mean THAT clown! [The clown who has pestered Deathbringer for weeks comes down the aisle with a large grin. In the meantime, Tragedy does a Tragic Suplex onto the chair. He goes to the top.] COMEDY: See ya, dead man! "The World Comes Crashing Down"! TD: Oh my! Tragedy nails that shooting star press from the top to the outside onto the chair! Bringer has never recovered from Tragedy's initial attack. Tragedy has been in total and complete dominance of this match. COMEDY: Anything less would be uncivilised. SR: Great. Now you're quoting balding men who think they're artists. "Pecking order" this. MELODY: Gladly. COMEDY: Slut. MELODY: Hey, you're just pissed because he likes me better. COMEDY: I'm a married woman. What do I care? SR: So?! Does that stop Clinton? Do I hear "Mènage a trois"?! TD: Would you all be quiet and watch the match?! SR: Oh, aren't WE irritable?! [Tragedy tries to go for a Tragic Ending but 'Bringer quickly kicks the Harlequin off. 'Bringer rips off his cowl to expose the goalie mask.] SR: Ooh, he's playing Jason. I'm _so_ scared! "Friday the 13th part nineteen: Jason hits London"! Did they make that one, Dross? TD: Deathbringer clamps on the Death Claw! He converts it into a gorilla press! Into a chokeslam! What do you call that barrage? SR: Effective. [Deathbringer rolls Tragedy into the ring. He picks him up and tosses him into the ropes in preparation for the Scythe. As Bringer comes off the ropes, the clown trips him up. Deathbringer converts his attention to the clown. As Tragedy comes off, he flies right into another superkick, knocking the big man down.] TD: Unbelievable! Tragedy, who is outweighed by 104 pounds and is smaller by an entire foot, has handled himself extremely well so far. [Blind Guardian goes and chases the clown back to the locker room. Chaos and Terror enter the ring and help Trag beat up on Deathbringer.] TD: Come on, ref! Get them out! SR: No DQ, Dross. They can do whatever they want. Hey, here comes that clown again. Hey, he's got the Guardian's cloth! TD: Wait! That's a different clown! He went back to the lockers already? Wait a minute, he's coming back with the Happy Hammer! COMEDY: Hey, that's mine! [The clown passes by the table and drops off the hammer. He climbs into the ring and helps beat up Deathbringer.] TD: The Harlequins looking uneasily at him. They help beat him up! This is disgusting! Wait! Here comes the Blind Guardian! Thank goodness! [The Guardian makes a mad dash to the ring and chases the clown to the back in a blind fit of rage!] TD: Well, that's one down. And there go the rest! DEATHBRINGER SAT UP! [Huge pop from the fans as Deathbringer suddenly sits bolt upright in the ring, causing his assailants to step back in disbelief!] TD: Despite all the punishment he's receiving, Deathbringer is getting up. He reaches out and grabs Terror's throat! SR: Holy smoke! He hurled him clean into the upper deck! [Not quite. Terror lands among the Sychopaths in the front row of the stands, having taken quite a tumble! Big hardcore pop from the Sychopaths! Deathbringer grabs Tragedy and Chaos's heads and does a noggin knocker -- with the ladder in between them!] TD: Oh my! He lariats Chaos over the top! COMEDY: But my guy still stands! This one's over! [Tragedy goes to kick Deathbringer, but the Dark Destroyer catches his foot. Tragedy then jumps for an enzuigiri -- and takes the ladder into Deathbringer's face with it!] SR: Now, pardon me for asking, but, shouldn't Deathbringer have no sold that? He _is_ wearing a goalie mask! ['Bringer goes down anyway. Comedy tosses the Happy Hammer into the ring, where it is nimbly caught by Tragedy, who nails the fallen dead with it repeatedly. Tragedy tosses it out and mockingly asks, "Are you pining?"] SR: Hey, Spur pulled that last year with Chickenwing. Only it was Chickenwing's turkey he asked it to. TD: It was an eagle! SR: Yeah, right. Next you'll be trying to tell me that Musashi's Japanese. [Tragedy pulls Deathbringer over, and grabs his legs... Big heel pop from the fans!] TD: The Tragic Ending! It's locked in! SR: He can't win with this! He's gotta climb the ladder! TD: Tragedy's trying to make sure Deathbringer can't get up. [Tragedy is relentless in the hold, his face straining as he struggles to cinch in as much pressure as possible. After thirty seconds or so, Deathbringer lies motionless underneath Tragedy, apparently past struggling, but the referee can only stand by and watch, unable to call for the submission. The crowd jeers the Harlequin loudly, but Tragedy shows no sign of releasing the hold.] TD: I don't know, Steve Roberts, but I think Deathbringer may be out! And still Tragedy doesn't release the hold! [Even a chant of "BRING-ER! BRING-ER!" from the capacity crowd is apparently unable to rouse the big man. After a couple of minutes, Tragedy finally decides to release the hold. He goes over to the fallen ladder and props it up. He can't seem to get the legs straight. Deathbringer lies motionless in the ring as the Harlequin jiggles the steel contraption around. Finally, he gets it straight.] COMEDY: And the best man wins! MELODY: You can't even tell your husband apart from your brother-in-law? You really need some sleep. [Suddenly, the crowd erupts in a massive pop, and cameras flash all over the stadium! Deathbringer has suddenly sat bolt upright in the ring once more!] TD: Oh my! Never say die! SR: Good golly, Miss Molly! [Bringer does indeed limp up to the ladder. The crowd watches, holding its collective breath, camera flashes strobing all around, as Tragedy reaches up at the mask -- and is distracted by the huge, 6'10", 320lbs frame of Deathbringer slowly climbing the ladder!] TD: Oh my! Would you look at this?! SR: Grab the damned mask, Tragedy! [As Deathbringer nears the top of the ladder, Tragedy reaches down and begins pummelling the big man with hard right hands, attempting to halt his climb -- but the Dark Destroyer will not be denied, and as he reaches the top of the ladder, the crowd noise reaches a deafening crescendo!] TD: Just listen to these fans, Steve Roberts! What a battle! [Deathbringer finally meets Tragedy at the top. They start swinging wild lefts and rights at each other.] TD: Bringer just knocked... No, wait, he pulled him back up! He reaches over and pulls Tragedy towards him. What is he...? [Deathbringer grabs the tumbling Tragedy and pulls him up into the air as if he weighed nothing. 'Bringer gingerly turns himself around so that he is facing into the ring once more, and then flips Tragedy around, so that the Harlequin's head is pointed directly downwards...] TD: Oh my! Oh my! Surely not! SR: Aw, I's gettin' a bad feeling about this, baby dolls! TD: Surely he's not... oh, this is bad! [The crowd again erupts with an even more deafening pop as Deathbringer leaps, taking Tragedy with him -- and plants him to the canvas, some ten feet below, with a devastating Burial piledriver! Tragedy slumps down to the canvas as if he were dead, but Deathbringer is also apparently exhausted, and lies to the side of his fallen nemesis, his chest heaving. And then...] TD: Oh my! The ladder -- the ladder is wobbling... it's teetering... SR: Timber! [Huge pop as the ladder arcs down to the canvas -- and lands on Tragedy! Cut to a shot of ringside as Comedy leaves the broadcast booth, running with a look of grief on her face. She tries to revive Chaos, who is obviously still out. Just then, Terror is tossed over the guardrail and back into the ringside enclosure by a group of rowdy "Dirty Doggies". She goes over and tries to revive him. Chaos groggily gets up and tries to enter the ring.] MELODY: CHRIS! HURRY! [But the crowd once again cheers wildly -- as Deathbringer sits up yet again! Huge, huge pop as Deathbringer pulls himself to his feet, and pulls the ladder off Tragedy, righting it in the ring and placing it underneath his mask, which still spins slowly in the night air some twenty feet above.] TD: Deathbringer is making that climb again! This huge man is climbing the ladder! [Comedy continues to try and coax Chaos into action, but the young Harlequin groggily lies on the apron, apparently unable to summon the energy to stand. Meanwhile, Deathbringer reaches the top of the ladder! Huge pop!] TD: Deathbringer is at the top! Chaos is in the ring! He grabs the ladder! Too late! 'Bringer has a death grip on the mask! He falls... WITH THE MASK! It's over! It's over! It is over! [Official Chuck Sanders relievedly signals for the bell: Ding! Ding! Ding! "Scythe, Rage and Rose" again kicks in over the PA system as Sparkplug Lee struggles to be heard over the din of the crowd:] SL: Your winner, and possessor of the mask, DEATHBRINGER! [Explosive crowd pop! Deathbringer, having pulled himself to his feet once again, raises his hands, holding the recovered mask aloft... and the lights go out! A confused crowd murmur arises. Moments later, the lights go back up. Tragedy is on the mat with the goalie mask on his stomach. Deathbringer is gone, but his eerie laugh is audible over the PA as thunder and lightning effects storm the stadium. The crowd is giving a standing ovation.] TD: Deathbringer has recovered his mask in an exciting end to this feud. But Tragedy has nothing to be ashamed about. He gave his all in the match and showed that he is championship calibre, having narrowly lost to a great former IIWF World Champion. What a match! [As Chaos helps his brother to his feet, the British crowd gives an appreciative pop for Tragedy for his outstanding performance. Tragedy raises his hand to the crowd in a show of respect. Melody leaves the broadcast booth and helps Comedy support Terror as the Harlequin troupe, battered but unbowed, leave ringside. Cut back to the broadcast table at ringside.] TD: Our next encounter also promises to settle a long-running dispute. It all began at... hang on. I understand we have some kind of backstage disturbance yet again. [The scene switches to a dark room. The boiler has many huge pipes and a scaffolding set up. Apparently, it's being used to clean the room. The lighting is very dim, but there's just enough to make out the people who are battling: Sho Satsuma is slamming Paul Wong's head against one of the pipes.] TD: [over the headset] Oh my, Steve Roberts! The Machines and the Fabulous Ones are _still_ going at it -- now in the bowels of Wembley Stadium! SSS: How do you like your new car?! [Paul lifts his leg up into Sho's groin.] PW: How do you like that?! [By the scaffolding, Simon O'Neal is being beaten mercilessly by Agito Nakajima. Blood can be seen pouring from a nasty wound on Simon's head.] SR: [over the headset] I see juice! [As Paul starts to walk over towards Agito to help out Simon, Sho grabs him from behind and Irish whips him into some small pipes in the wall. *CRASH!* On impact a couple of the pipes crack open, allowing steam to shoot out. Sho charges at Paul, who back bodydrops Sho into the wall of piping. *CRASH!* The force of his body falling down onto the small pipes breaks some of them away. Paul quickly grabs one of the loose pipes and runs towards Simon and Agito. Agito has just slammed Simon's head into the concrete floor, when Paul gets to them.] PW: Sayonara, big man! [*WHAM!* Paul with the pipe nails an unsuspecting Agit in the upper shoulder area of the back, just below the neck of the Universal Heartthrob. Agito drops to the floor in a clump.] TD: [over the headset] Oh, this is bad. This has got to stop. Get some help down there! SR: [over the headset] We want more juice! [The chant is picked up by the Soundbiters and repeated. "More juice! More juice!"] TD: [over the headset] What on earth is Wong doing? [What Dross is referring to is Wong slinging the limb body of Agito over his shoulder as he climbs the scaffolding. From the weight of the two wrestlers, it's obvious this scaffolding wasn't made for heavy equipment, as it shakes and sways back and forth. Sho gets to the scaffolding and grabs a hold of Paul's foot.] TD: [over the headset] Look, Simon's back up! SR: [over the headset] The juice man cometh! [Simon, who's completely covered in his own blood, steps behind Sho and back suplexes Satsuma into the concrete floor. Both men lie motionless.] TD: [over the headset] My god! How much blood has Simon lost?! Somebody needs to put an end to this carnage. [By this time, Paul has gotten to the top of the fifteen foot scaffolding. He slings Agito's unconscious body onto the platform. Paul sets places Agito into a piledriver position.] TD: [over the headset] Oh no! [Just then the Lovely Bertha enters the dark, wet boiler room.] LB: Paul, stop! What are you trying to do? [At this point Simon, drenched in blood, pulls himself unsteadily back to his feet. He points at Bertha.] SO: You... [gasp]... and that other tramp Miki... [wheeze]... can go and... [He falls forwards and lands on Bertha. Both fall to the floor hard.] TD: [over the headset] Simon just passed out! He's obviously lost too much blood. SR: [over the headset] He falls on a hot piece of ass -- never mind the crappy name, you can't have it all -- and what does he do? He passes out. I told you they were gay, Dross. TD: [over the headset] Oh my! [What takes Dross by surprise is what Wong does next. On top of the scaffolding, he yells, "Tell Miki this is for her!", and powerbombs Agito on the top of the scaffolding -- but scaffolding gives way, wood and metal shattering apart, and both the unconscious Agito and Paul Wong crash down fifteen feet to the floor.] SR: [over the headset] Look at that, a room full of unconscious people. [By this time, the JJS, security, and IIWF staff, has arrived in the room, and are trying to sort out the carnage. Medical people also arrive on the scene. Cut back to the broadcast table at ringside.] TD: Good grief, Steve Roberts. It seems that nothing has been resolved between the Fabulous Ones and the Machines -- and it looks likely that all four men, along now with the Lovely Bertha, will be taking a trip to the hospital after this latest exchange. But we must move on, folks. The bad blood between Marty Warnett and Rick Williams began back at Snow Brawl in January, when Williams blinded Marty's long-time friend Billy Shakespeare, effectively ending his IIWF career. Warnett has done his best to defend Billy's honour -- albeit through cloak-and-dagger tactics such as disguising himself as Shakespeare -- but it all comes down to this one match tonight, as Warnett and Williams battle it out in a blindfold match. SR: There ain't no snakes comin' out to ringside, are there, Dross? TD: I can think of no reason why there would be, Steve Roberts. SR: Just checking. TD: Let's get back up to the ring. ________ ______ ..........................| || |\ \ /\ / /| __|......................... | || | \ v v / | __| |_||_| \_/\_/ |_| BLINDFOLD MATCH: Marty Warnett vs. "To Excess" Rick Williams ........................................................................ WRITER: Jack Hoban [Big pop as Sparkplug Lee steps into the ring once more.] SL: This match is for one fall...no time limit! Both men will be blindfolded prior to the match, allowing them to fend for themselves without sight! Our first competitor making his way to ringside... Weighing in at 257 pounds... hailing from the land of a thousand lakes, Minneapolis, Minnesota... here is... "To Excess" Rick Williammmmmmms! [The curtain parts and "Local Hero" by Mark Knopfler kicks in. Williams walks out to a BIG heel pop! On his way to the ring, Williams walks with his eyes closed, and his arms trying to guide him, intentionally and mockingly bumping into everything in range. He goes back and forth between a group of Sychopaths and Furies as they chant "Marco" and "Polo" back at each other. Acting like he is spinning out of control, Williams bumps into the guardrail where the one and only Billy Shakespeare is seated. "Excuse me, ma'am" is what Williams says as he backs to the ring like a blind man. As the camera catches his smiling features, he states, "This one's for you, Billy... This one's for you!"] TD: Billy Shakespeare not finding any humour in Williams' weak attempt at blind comedy. Steve! [Dross turns to see Roberts in a black braided wig and dark sunglasses. The Stevie Wonder-esque get-up catches our calm commentator by surprise as...] SR: # Superstitionnn! The writin's on the wall! # TD: Take that off. SR: No way. I'm trying to support this match. # Ebonyyyy and Ivoryyyy! Live together in perfect harm... # ["Just Like Paradise" by Dave Lee Roth pierces the ears hinting at the next combatant. Marty Warnett, smiling ear to ear and wearing the "IIWF Icon" T-shirt that has sky-rocketed in sales lately. Marty absorbs in the monster face pop that he loves, clapping hands all the way down the aisle. He stops to point to the Dogs of War who answer with a wave of "Woofs" in his direction.] SL: And his opponent... Weighing in at a trim 247 pounds... Hailing from Cardiff, Wales, here in the United Kingdom... [Huge, huge hometown pop!] ...the former IIWF Intercontinental Champion... Here is the "Party Maniac" himself... Martyyyyy Warrrrnetttt! [Once again the crowd is on its feet, especially when Warnett stops to see Billy Shakespeare. In a touching moment, Marty reaches over to Shakespeare and hugs his good friend. After a brief show of friendship, Warnett, surprisingly, stops over by Steve Roberts.] MW: Soundbite... we've had our differences, but I know you've come to respect my abilities, and let's face it, we both love ripping into Quitley. Now, I've been racking my brain to think of an appropriate send-off for you, and this is the best I could come up with. [With that, Marty turns around, only to then lean around, grab the startled commentator, and kiss him smack on the lips. Pleased by the crowd's reaction, Warnett climbs into the ring. Roberts, on the other hand, is livid. Some of the rowdy fans behind the broadcast table have pulled the Stevie Wonder wig from Roberts' head.] SR: You dirty mother[BLEEP]er! I've killed men for less! If I wasn't under contract, I'd put an Asai Moonsault on your ass! And you, give me back my braids! TD: Is something wrong? SR: Don't you start! I don't want to hear it! [BLEEP]! [BLEEP]-headed [BLEEP]! TD: The language! [Warnett gets into the ring and the referee explains the stipulations of the match to the two men. But they seem to not be paying attention, instead watching each other's body language. The feelings between these two men seem to be electric. Neither nervous, but slightly anxious. The referee has both men turn their backs to each other. He first hoods Warnett, then Williams. After leading them to opposite corners, he backs up and we are underway... Ding! Ding! Ding! Both of our sightless competitors warily wander about the ropes of the squared circle, slowly reaching out waiting for the first contact. Warnett, using the cheers of the crowd, wades his way over to Williams who hears the commotion. Obvious that the cries of the crowd are not for him, the Excessive one back up into the referee. Quickly realising that it's not Marty, he pushes the ref into the direction of the Party Animal. Warnett locks on a side headlock, but the lack of an athletic physique gives it away. After patting the referee on the head, Warnett leads the pudgy man behind him.] SR: He's right there, Rick! No! No! To your left! No! Your other left! TD: Since when did this become an announcer participation match? SR: Since that rat bastard kissed me! [The crowd is fully enjoying the near misses and the sudden brushes of the two men. But destiny is about to catch up to the two of them as they back step into each other in the middle of the ring! Williams spins about and chops wildly, across the chest of Warnett. The two lock up collar and elbow. Rick bulls Warnett backwards to the ropes. Stretching him against the top rope, Williams throws the forearm... missing the rolling Warnett!] TD: "To Excess" infuriated that the partying one is nowhere to be found. But I have to admit, as Warnett points blindly around the ring, the fans always let him know when he is in the right direction. SR: Big friggin' deal. Queers stick with each other and... Shut up! [As Roberts is distracted by the fans' "Marty!" chant, Warnett has found Williams again. Forced to the corner, Williams is monkey-flipped over! Back-rolling up, Marty finds Williams again. Pop! Only to be caught with a jarring European Uppercut! Out of instinct, Williams retreats to the ropes behind him, rebounds and cranks his arm up for a running clothesline... that never reaches its target! Big Warnett Pop!] TD: The stunned Warnett just wandered out of the way of the onrushing Williams! Rick spun over the top rope and flip back into the ring, rump first! Warnett never saw it, but neither did Williams! SR: I saw it. I see all and all see me. That's why I get paid the big bucks and _you_ never pick up the tab. [After a few seconds of posturing Williams gets up and starts the search for Warnett once more. Soon enough, he finds him, sending an elbow to the back of the head! This time not willing to let go, Williams hits with a belly to back suplex! Warnett lands on his feet and shoots the leg out for a superkick!] TD: Warnett misjudged that kick and his ankle landed on Williams' shoulder, who... [Collective "OW!" from the crowd, as Williams holds Marty's leg in place and plants a closed fist to the tender and extremely unprotected crotch of Warnett! Gasping for breath, Warnett doubles over, reaching out for anything that will stabilise his balance and keep him standing. All he finds is Rick reaching over and lifting him for a crucifix powerbomb! And hits it! Big Williams Pop!] TD: Warnett is dumped down hard! Williams must be wearing a grin like a Cheshire cat's after that heinous attack -- look at him, pointing to his head as if to tell us... SR: Super genius. Just like Wile E. Coyote. [Crowd lets out a huge collective laugh as Williams goes for the cover, totally missing Warnett!] TD: Super genius, huh? SR: Okay, so maybe he's autistic. [Scampering around for Warnett, Williams grabs a leg. Warnett, reacting, boots "To Excess" square in the nose! Williams jumps up and holds his face in pain. Bumping into the ref, Williams grabs the little man by the collar and cocks back a right. It becomes apparent that this is not Marty, due to the excessive begging, and he releases him. The Party Maniac hears that same begging and locates Williams. Shocked by the speed of it, Williams finds himself bounced by a vicious DDT, head over heels! Warnett covers...] SR: No good, Jackass! Rick's foot is on the ropes! Look at Warnett waiting for the count! The sun will come up and I will go down on some broad before he gets the one, two, three! TD: Williams sticks a thumb to Marty's eye and rolls out of the ring for safety. Even though these men are without sight, they are ring veterans and have some awareness of the area around them. [As the referee check on Warnett, who is holding his right hand over his eye, he is befuddled. Without seeing the wrestler's face, he doesn't know how bad it is. Rick Williams, on the other hand, is using his time wisely. On the outside, on his knees, Williams attempts to undo the hood on his head. Crowd going wild, Williams stops. The referee looking to see what commotion is going on and heads over to the ropes, but sees nothing.] SR: Oh yeah, Ricky. It's only a matter of time before you get that thing off. Then it'll be like a freshman pledge at his first frat party: Paddle Time! TD: That would be a disqualification, Steve. I'm sure Williams would rather win this match up. Surely setting him up for what looks to be an upcoming title shot. SR: I didn't say he was going to get caught. [Warnett is up and Williams rolls into the ring. Back-pedalling with arms outstretched, Warnett brushes against Rick and swings wildly. Luckily for him, he catches Williams in the throat, leaving him stunned and coughing: a perfect target. Pulling him by the hood, Warnett lifts Williams in a fireman's carry, into a 360 degree spin and a Samoan drop! Rolling Williams over, Warnett slaps on the STF! The crowd goes wild!] TD: Warnett has it cinched on tight! And Williams doesn't realise that he's within arm's length of the ropes! He's in excruciating pain and he doesn't know escape is only inches away! SR: No ring awareness. Maybe he's not the vet you thought he was, Timmy. Rick, put your left arm to the... No! Left foot goes to red spot. No. That's "Twister" and I don't play that game unless there are some ACC co-eds involved. That's the Soundbite promise. [Williams is struggling. Concentrating on not submitting is his main concern, not aware of the object of his freedom to his left. Billy Shakespeare even leaves his seat as he sees the window of opportunity open for Warnett. The camera zooms in on Rick's hood... contorted and drenched in sweat, you can almost see the pain on his face. When it seems it is all over, a minor miracle happens!] SR: Praise be to Jesus! The Black Jesus, that is. The party molester is stopped! TD: A saving grace for 'To Excess'! Inadvertently trying to gather himself, Williams touched the nearby rope that was there all the time. Holding on for dear life, the referee is forced to break the hold. [Williams tries to crawl out of the ring but Warnett is wise to his game. With a firm hold on Rick's foot, Marty pulls him back into the ring. Williams refuses to let go of the bottom rope, but pays for it as... Big Party Pop! ...as Warnett pulls him into the air, allowing him to self-splash onto the mat. Pulling him to his feet, via the head, Warnett is caught off guard. Williams wraps his hands around the top of Warnett's head and falls to his knees, driving his skull into Marty's jaw! Excessive Pop! Falling back on his rump, Marty clutches his chin trying to shake off the effects.] SR: Chew on that, bee-atch! [Using the ropes to make his way over to where Warnett is, Williams stumbles on top of the charismatic wrestler. In seconds the two men are rolling around and trading blows! At first they are at their knees... then on their feet. Ducking down and avoiding the next Williams swing, Warnett wraps the arms and connects with a... POP!] TD: Northern Lights Suplex! Here's the cover! [The official slaps the canvas: 1!] SR: Kick out, damn it! [The hand goes down a second time: 2!] TD: Williams kicks out! Close one. SR: I knew he was gonna kick out. Just like I predicted the ending to the Titanic the other night. It goes down! Down faster than a Navy boy on a weekend pass! [Warnett now understanding that one must never let one's opponent get away, goes over Rick's back for a sunset flip! Williams drops down for a crotch drop and calls for a cover. In the referee's haste he doesn't see the Excessive one grab hold of the ropes! He makes the count: 1!] TD: Williams has Warnett pinned and locked with... [The official's hand hits the mat again: 2 -- Big Party Pop!] TD: No! Warnett brings his legs over and hooks Williams' shoulder for a reversal! [The referee starts the count afresh: 1 -- Rick, clear of head, brings his calves together on Warnett's ears, rolls over, pressing himself to his feet and... Dives with a forearm! Excessive Pop! Williams, now in charge and using it, scoop slams Warnett down hard! Taking a step back, he launches himself into the air for a wicked leg drop! Marty Pop! Rick's leg hits mat as Warnett rolls out of the ring for escape!] SR: Get back in there or I'll toss you in there myself! See this pin? [Pointing to the microphone pin.] It means I'm the best. I the best lover and the best fighter! I'd be glad to show you why. Not the lover part, though. I ain't that way. TD: Please, Steve, sit down before... SR: Before I go Lestat on his ass, that's what! [The referee begins the count. Warnett wanders about outside of the ring until feeling his way to the apron. Williams fumbles with his hood some more. The crowd screams in vain, attempting to tell the official of the cheating act.] TD: Don't worry about the count! Williams has his hood off! He can see! SR: Ha! Classic "ref-no-look" move by Ricky. The ref turns around, Williams pulls it back on. He can take it off any time he wants now! This match's getting juicy! [True to Steve's words, Williams has know figured out the secret of the hood. Already catching sight of Warnett climbing into the ring, Williams walks right up to the unsuspecting Warnett and... boots him in the gut! Completely caught off guard, Marty is dropped to his knees. A stiff right hand has him reeling! Williams, now ready to dish it out, does so. Pop!] TD: Excess Express on Marty! That version of the diamond cutter just rocked the partying wildman! Warnett is up... and the sting of a boot has him down again! SR: Pop the champagne! This party is just starting! [The crowd is brought to its collective feet as "To Excess" locks the limp Warnett in suplex position. Giving the thumbs up symbol, Williams hooks the leg. A second later Marty is laid low by a devastating fisherman's buster! The ref jumps down for the count... 1 -- 2 -- HUGE WARNETT POP! As he just barely gets his arm up! Williams jumps up to argue with the ref. Unfortunately, the referee is behind him. The crowd gets a good laugh at Rick putting a tongue-lashing on absolutely no one!] TD: Williams' argument seems to be falling on deaf ears. Or rather, no ears at all. [Williams sneaks another quick peek at Warnett with a tug of the hood. The referee, distracted as he checks on Warnett, never sees Williams pull his hood down again. Once again with the upper hand, Rick drops a double axe-handle across Warnett's back! Billy Shakespeare is furious at the obvious violation of rules and the obvious lack control by the ref and stands against the guardrail, yelling at the referee. Williams lifts Warnett upside down and... POP!] TD: Driving shoulder breaker on Marty! The advantage is all Williams! His periodic sneak peeks have him well ahead for Warnett here! The Party Animal's has been open to ever attack for the last ten minutes and it's really taking its toll. Dear God! Fallaway slam by Williams! SR: Look at that broken bastard. He's just stumbling around the ring. Warnett's chances to win are all but a mem... Hey, get back in your chair! Do you know what this pin means? TD: Not again, Steve. [The fans start to pump their fists and roar! Shakespeare climbs over the railing and makes his way to ringside. Tired of the rulebreaking, he starts yelling out instructions to Warnett. Warning Marty of a blindside kick, Williams' leg is caught! Taking his chance when he can, Warnett takes down Williams with a dragon screw leg whip! Rolling onto the top, Marty slaps on a cross-face submission!] TD: Shakespeare has turned the tables and Warnett has Williams in another submission! This time, though, the ropes aren't nearby! SR: Where is the JJS, Huh? They only come out when the trouble's over, never when it's going down! Are they on salary? I know they aren't getting paid for the number of fights they break up! [As much as Warnett has the leverage, the beating he has taken has weakened him and he cannot hold Williams any longer. Williams powers his way up and spins Warnett around... locking on for the inverted DDT! HUGE POP! Amazingly, Warnett flips over Williams to roll behind him... turns around... hooks the arms... Backslide!] TD: Warnett has him! He has him! [The official once again makes the count: 1...] SR: Kick your legs harder, Ricky! Harder! Don't they teach you anything in them fancy wrestling schools?! [...2... Williams slides out of the backslide! The referee warns Shakespeare that if he does not leave the ring area, Warnett will be DQ'ed. Billy, not wanting his friend to lose, complies, shaking his head as he goes. Both men are using each other to get to their feet, fumbling and grabbing on the way up. A closed fist stuns "To Excess". Stunned enough for Warnett to clamp on tightly, lifting the bigger man up for... POP! ...what was to be a suplex! But as Warnett lifted Williams, Rick's boot clips the referee on the chin! The referee falls back and Warnett loses the momentum he needed for the move! The weight is too much to force back up, so Warnett dumps him forward! Bad for Williams! The Excessive one is draped over the top rope, barely stopping himself from falling to the floor!] SR: Ref bump, ref bump! TD: Williams is holding on for dear life! [BIG WARNETT POP!] TD: Warnett is battering Rick in the face and chest with repeated rights, the referee is face down on the mat -- and Billy Shakespeare is leading the cheers! This is the IIWF and it is _Mighty_! SR: How come he stopped? That idiot has Williams where he wants him and he just backed up?! Maybe he realised that he can't win. I booked this, you know. [Warnett does back up. He backs up three steps, counting each one as he goes. His hooded face looks up and his arms are outstretched. The camera barely picks up his comments...] MW: Somebody pray for me. Because I think I gonna kill myself. [With that, Warnett hops one step... bounces two steps... AND LAUNCHES OVER THE TOP OF WILLIAMS WITH THE THIRD! CROWD EXPLOSION!] TD: I cannot fathom the lunacy it took to do that move! Warnett sunset flipped over Williams _outside_ of the ring and _powerbombs_ "To Excess" onto the concrete! SR: Bra-[BLEEP]in'-vo, Marty! Even I'm impressed! Rick is sprawled out like a sack of potatoes! [Warnett stumbles to his feet, falling against the railing. He is enveloped by hugs of the fans! "Mar-ty! Mar-ty!" reverberates all around as the fans chant as one voice! Williams still hasn't moved. A few moments later, Marty gets back to business, finds Williams' limp body, and rolls him into the ring.] TD: Warnett is stepping over one leg! It's... [POP!] TD: Yes! Yes! The End of the Party! The patented figure four of Warnett has Williams screaming in pain! SR: Ever get Marissa Monet's figure four facelock? Now _that_ would make me tap out! TD: Williams is tapping out as we speak, but there is no one to answer his pleas! The referee is out and... Oh no! Not now! [There is a chorus of boos as Edmund Fitzgerald charges down to ringside! In a flash Fitz is on the top rope, setting up for the strike! HUGE POP! Fitz drops a wicked leg drop onto Warnett! The impact is so great that Marty bounces six inches off the mat! Williams strains to unhook his legs from the dazed Warnett. Fitz speeds up the process by pulling Warnett up and drilling him with a heart punch!] TD: This is a travesty! Warnett is sightless and beaten! Fitz exacting some vengeance and... Oh my! He just slapped the referee and rolled out! SR: Gotta wake him up, Tim! Jeez, no toupée, no common sense. [The referee stirs as Fitz is halfway up the aisle. Shakespeare grabs Edmund and they start pushing each other, the nearby fans getting into it as well. Within seconds IIWF security has to crash the party!] TD: It's a madhouse over there! The only partially-sighted Shakespeare and Edmund Fitzgerald going at it and the IIWF blue collar heroes trying to get it under control! SR: Speaking of control, look in the ring! My man Rick is in command! [The referee slumped in one corner, catches the same scene the rest of us do. Williams, one weak leg, has Warnett's head on his shoulder! Leading to the... MONSTER EXCESSIVE POP! Excessive Force Inverted Neackbreaker! Warnett drops like a bad habit! And Williams falls on top of him for the... 1 -- 2 -- 3! Ding! Ding! Ding!] TD: No! It wasn't supposed to happen this way! This just isn't right! SR: It's right, baby! Right as rain! Old Marty ain't kissing anyone else tonight. [Williams pulls off his mask and holds it high. Warnett, on the other hand, rolls around on the mat, trying to collect himself. Sparkplug Lee makes it official.] SL: Your winner... As the result of pinfall... "To Excess" Riiiiiick Willlllliaaaammmmmmssss!! [The referee bends over Warnett and unties his hood, pulling it away to reveal the extremely sweaty visage of the Party Maniac, contorted in pain as he tries to catch his wind. Williams smirks down at Warnett and rolls out of the ring, pointing at his temple to depict his high opinion of his own intelligence as he passes a camera on his way up the aisle. In the ring, Marty has pulled himself to his feet, and watches Williams go, hands on hips, shaking his head.] TD: I believe Marty Warnett has every reason to be disappointed here, Steve Roberts. Had it not been for Edmund Fitzgerald, the result of this match might have been very different. SR: You have to be kidding me, Dross! This turd-burgling little ass got just what he deserved. [The fans begin a rousing chant of "MAR-TY! MAR-TY! MAR-TY!" for their fellow Brit, who at least cracks a hint of a smile before he gingerly rolls out of the ring and makes his way slowly up the aisle, almost absent-mindedly slapping the hands of fans on either side as he goes. Cut back to the broadcast table at ringside.] TD: Well, Steve Roberts, it's time for what might be one of the most brutal and ugly matches we've ever seen. SR: What, Oprah vs. Rosie O'Donnell wrestling in a vat of liquid protein? TD: Uh... no, Steve. This is the "Coffin Cooler Match" between Gunnar "Grizzly" Gaines and Jimmy "The Meatman" Steele. And the events leading up to this match are... well, tragic, to say the least. SR: Dross-man, even Poppa Soundbite can't put a positive spin on this one. The Meat just went a bit too far last week. [We see IIWF officials Ken "The Rack" Beaton and Mark "Bunkum" Summers slowly wheel a large icebox down the ramp toward ringside. A hush of anticipation falls over the crowd.] TD: While we get ready for one of the most gruelling grudge matches in wrestling history, let's go backstage to Dave Bacon and Becky LaRue! [Cut to the backstage interview room. In the background, Steve Manning is standing behind a man typing away at a laptop computer. Manning points at the screen and says, "That's not how you spell 'antiphlogistine', you moron!"] DB: What a show it's been so far, Tim Dross, and there's plenty more where that came from! I'm here with Becky LaRue, and we're taking _your_ calls on the IIWF hotline, and over the Internet as well! BL: That's right, Dave. For our fans in the United States, the number is... [Becky's next words are drowned out as Steve Manning yells "'XIPHISTERNUM'! DAMMIT! X...I...P... What are you, STUPID or something?!"] BL: ...a minute. Kids, you must have your parents' permission before calling! DB: Let's go over to the River Thames and Larry Morton. By the way, Larry, I told you to stay away from the "Happy Lemon Water Joy", didn't I? [Cut to the helicopter, once again hovering over the barge on the Thames, which is visible in the background. Larry Morton is seated, his hair still blown by the wind, holding his finger to his earpiece and wincing a bit as the wind picks up. The shot cuts to a camera on the boat, which is now moored near Tower Bridge in the heart of London.] LM: No kidding, Dave. Did you see seven-mile long snakes, too? Anyway, as you can see beneath me, the crew is putting the finishing touches on the lighting equipment that we have set up for the big Intercontinental Title match between the challenger, "The Savior" Simon Lebec, and the champion from Glenfinnan, Scotland, Duncan Macbeth! [An enthusiastic cheer comes from the railing above and behind the barge, as several hearty Scotsmen and women have made their way from Wembley to see this match in person.] LM: It's almost two in the morning here in London, and I'm freezing my steak-and-kidneys off, folks! Let's hurry back to Wembley! [Cut back to ringside, where the IIWF officials have just about finished lugging the giant icebox to ringside.] TD: Let's go to the ring and Sparkplug Lee, who will go over the rules once more before we get this thing started. SR: We'd better. There's nothing more I hate than a fed changing the rules in the middle of a match... ________ ______ ..........................| || |\ \ /\ / /| __|......................... | || | \ v v / | __| |_||_| \_/\_/ |_| COFFIN COOLER MATCH: Gunnar "Grizzly" Gaines vs. Jimmy "the Meatman" Steele ........................................................................ WRITER: Jason Lake [Sparkplug Lee steps through the ropes with the ring mic and fishes a card out of his vest pocket] SL: Ladies and gentlemen, this is a special "Coffin Cooler Match!" [The crowd pops, which brings a grin to Sparkplug's face.] SL: The rules for the match are as follows. [reading from the card] For a good time, call "Bob and Neil's Exotic Bathhouse" at... [The crowd laughs and points at Sparkplug, who blushes noticeably and fumbles for the right card.] SL: Ahem... the rules for the match are as follows. There are no pinfalls, submissions, countouts OR disqualifications. The match can only be won when one wrestler places the other inside the cooler and closes the lid. SR: So that's everything, right, Dross? We're not going to have the ref call this thing because one man can't continue? TD: That's correct, Steve. SR: What if ten guys run down and close the lid on Meatman? And then he pops up on the videotron and says "I shall return" and flies up into the air? TD: Don't be ridiculous, Steve. No one would go for an angle like that... SL: First... accompanied by his wife Cheryl... from Fairbanks, AL... weighing in at 357lbs... Gunnar... "GrIIIIIIIIIIIzlyyyy" GAINES!!! [A mixed crowd reaction as the massive Gaines, with his wife Cheryl on one arm, comes down to ringside to the tune of George Thorogood and The Destroyers' "Bad to the Bone".] TD: A very sombre Cheryl and an even more furious Gunnar Gaines have arrived here at Wembley! SR: Well, Dross, I had some "Gaines Burgers" jokes lined up, but I don't think I'm up to it anymore. [Gunnar leads Cheryl around the ring, picks her up gracefully, and places her in her ringside seat.] TD: We have a live satellite feed from Portland, Oregon, where the entire Gaines family is watching this matchup intently! [Cut to a shot of the Gaines family, with the caption "Live from Portland -- Gaines Residence" at the bottom of the screen. We see Gunnar's father, Larry "The Chainsaw" Gaines, sitting on a couch with The Dark Destroyer and "Offensive" Alex Adams, Gunnar's half-brother and brother-in-law, respectively. Cheryl's sister Carol, Adams's wife, is there, along with several related youngsters assembled around the television. In the centre of the room, in a rocking chair with a shawl draped over him, is Ebeneezer "The Geezer" Gaines. In one hand is a cane, in the other, a bottle of "Ol' Smokey" wood grain alcohol. Ebeneezer shakes his cane at the television, mutters something derisive about Jimmy Steele, and takes a swig from the bottle.] TD: The Gaines family has reunited behind Cheryl and Gunnar for this very important match... SR: Ebeneezer Gaines. My Dad used to say "Stephanie, I remember when Ebeneezer fought Danno O'Mahoney to a standstill back in '35." Then he made me put a skirt on and run down the hallways screaming "Yes, Massuh! Yes, Massuh!" The bastard. SL: And his opponent... accompanied to the ring by "Meatboy"... from Emeryville, CA... and weighing in at 274lbs... Jimmy.... "The MEEEEEEEEAATMANNNNN" STEEEEEEEE-uhllllll!!! [Almost all of the crowd goes ballistic at the announcement of one of their most beloved wrestlers. However, small sections of the crowd boo ferociously, shouting "SHAME!" and "MURDERER!"] TD: This is a much warmer reception for The Meatman than we could have imagined. It may be that not everyone here has heard the news of the unfortunate miscarriage had this past week by Cheryl Gaines. SR: Just a few pockets of Internet weenies in the audience who check out the IIWF website daily, when they're not busy looking for inaccuracies in episodes of "Animaniacs". [The crowd pops even louder when The Go-Go's "We Got the Beat" begins to play over the loudspeakers, and the sound of an engine roaring brings the crowd to even further heights of frenzy. As the digitally altered voice of Belinda Carlisle sings "We got the meat, we got the meat, we got the meat/Yeah, we got the meat!", the crowd sings along in unison and the meat truck, driven by Meatboy, idles at the top of the rampway, then makes its way down about halfway. Out the back of the truck appears Jimmy Steele, his head still a bit stubbly, carrying a ten-pound slab of beef and wearing an apron covered in blood. Incredible pop.] TD: Jimmy Steele arrives in style here at Wembley! SR: Hang on, Dross. There's something written on his apron... [As Steele gets closer to the camera, we can see that his butchers apron has "THE MEAT IS MURDER" written crudely across the front in blood. Steele, with his slab of beef slung over his shoulder, doesn't acknowledge the "MEAT! MEAT! MEAT!" cheers of the crowd much. Instead, as he walks down the ramp, a few fans are leaning against the railing and pointing fingers at him, shouting "YOU BASTARD!" and "BLOODY MURDER!" Jimmy looks at these fans, then looks at the floor, and continues despondently down the aisle.] TD: It looks like Steele is showing some remorse. SR: Yeah, but that apron sure isn't going to win him any new fans tonight. TD: He's obviously trying to keep Gaines as much off his game as possible. We'll have to see if Gaines can contain his anger and be focussed enough to get the victory. SR: I'm tellin' ya, Dross, prairie oysters are The Meat's speciality. He's got enough of his own to feed Mongolia. TD: There goes Gaines! [In a flash, Gunnar Gaines flies up the rampway and clotheslines an unprepared Steele down to the steel ramp. He picks him up by the neck, walks him over to the truck, and rams his head into the side, leaving a dent in the galvanised steel frame. Meatman no-sells it, gets a pop, then Irish whips Gunnar into the truck back first, and follows with a dropkick.] TD: Nowhere to go for Gunnar except down! SR: Really, Dross? Maybe he should join a tag team. [Meatman motions for Meatboy to open the driver's door, and sets up Gaines for another Irish whip, but Gaines reverses it and Steele goes back-first into the door instead.] TD: Don't say it, Steve. SR: C'mon, Dross, even the Soundbite wouldn't stoop so low. [Gaines moves in on the dazed Meatman, but as he reaches the door, Meatboy squirts Dijon mustard into Gaines' face, and the crowd pops again.] TD: Are you gonna touch that one? SR: Nope. I'm saving myself for something better. This is the PPV, Dross-man! [Steele brings Gaines around to the back of the truck, and rams his head into the hydraulic lift. Then he goes into the back of the truck. He produces a giant Genoa salami, and whacks Gaines over the back with it. He goes back for more, and brings out two strands of linked sausages. Steele begins manipulating the sausages like nunchaku, and drills Gaines in the forehead with one of the strands.] SR: Well, Dross, what can I say... the wurst is yet to come. TD: Huh? [Steele goes back into the truck, brings out a giant liverwurst, and clobbers Gaines over the head with it.] TD: Ladies and gentlemen... Steve Roberts. SR: Ba-DOOM-ching! [Steele takes Gaines outside to the front of the truck and bodyslams him over the hood of the engine. Meatboy then revs up the truck and takes off down the ramp, then brakes quickly, sending Gaines flying off the hood and landing near the bottom of the ramp. Giant pop!] TD: I cannot believe what I'm seeing, folks. SR: It's a hit and run! Meatboy is leaving! [The warning siren sounds as Meatboy backs the meat truck up the rampway and out of Wembley Stadium, waving and receiving a big ovation.] TD: The Meatboy has truly had a huge impact on this match! [Steele throws a dazed Gunnar Gaines into the ring, looking to dish out more punishment. As Steele walks around to another side of the ring, Cheryl stands up and stares at Steele. Steele looks at her, and grows clearly disconsolate. Cheryl slaps Steele squarely in the face, and Steele does nothing to respond. As his eyes begin to drift back down to the floor, Gunnar Gaines picks the Meatman up by the hair and drags him into the ring. Gaines immediately shoulder tackles Steele to the mat and starts raining lefts and rights to his forehead.] TD: Gaines is a house afire! [Gunnar picks up Steele's head and slams it down several times to the mat. He then tears Steele's apron from his body and tries to stuff it down Steele's throat. Most of the crowd boos lustily; a few scream "YEAH!" and "GET HIM!"] SR: I guess this gives the phrase "ring apron" a whole new meaning. [Gaines takes the apron strings and ties them around Steele's neck, picks him up off the mat, and Irish whips him toward a far corner, but jerks back on the apron and snaps Steele hard to the canvas] TD: Here's a split camera shot of the ring here at Wembley and the Gaines residence back in Portland! [We see Gaines in the screen on the left performing the "Garvin Stomp" on Steele, while on the right, the Gaines family is cheering wildly, and Ebeneezer is shouting "STOMP HIS GUTS IN, BOY!" and waving his cane.] SR: Didn't I see this on an episode of "The Beverly Hillbillies?" TD: Was that the one where Granny went in the ring and cleaned house? SR: Yeah, that's the one. Man, that Daisy Mae was one hot tomato. Or was that "Li'l Abner"? Damn, I must be gettin' old, Drossy. [Gaines calls for IIWF officials Beaton and Summers to open the lid to the cooler. The crowd screams as Gaines picks Steele up and tries to drop him in, but Steele rakes the eyes as Gaines nears the ropes. The lid is closed.] TD: This crowd, or most of it, at least, is still behind The Meatman! [The camera pans across the crowd, and we see signs like "Jimmy Steele: The Other White Meat" and a bad drawing of Cartman wearing a butcher's apron and screaming "Beefcake! BEEFCAKE!!" Back in the ring, Steele works over Gaines's midsection with a series of punches, then hits a bodyslam and an elbowdrop from the second rope. Steele calls for the lid to be opened, picks Gunnar up off the mat, and Irish whips him toward the cooler.] TD: Irish whip by Steele... reversal by Gunnar... Steele bounces off the ropes, and Gunnar rolls him up! SR: Aw, Dross, can't anyone get through one of these matches without making a pin attempt? TD: Gunnar instinctively went for the roll-up... kick out by Steele... look out! [Steele's kickout pushes Gunnar toward the ropes, and he goes up and over and straight into the cooler.] TD: Whoa! Gunnar goes into the icebox! SR: Ah, but "cooler" heads prevail, Dross-man. [Gaines realises right away that he's landed in the icebox, and leaps right back out before Steele has even picked himself up off the mat. The crowd groans.] TD: I'm not sure if the fans are groaning because of the cooler or because of you, Steve. SR: Poppa Soundbite is on a roll! Yowza! [Gaines quickly gets into the ring and tries an elbowdrop, but Steele rolls out of the way. Steele connects with a stomp to the gut, then picks him up and throws him viciously into the corner] TD: While we were in Nagano, Steele took the opportunity to train in the Sumo style with the great yokozuna Akebono. It's showing here, as Steele just launched the massive Gaines into the turnbuckle. SR: Yokozuna? I didn't know they had fat farms in Nagano... [Steele follows Gaines into the turnbuckle and delivers a series of kneelifts and headbutts. Steele turns Gaines around and rams his head into the top turnbuckle...] CROWD: One! Two! Three! SR: I'll be damned. Those little Englanders can count to three. [...then into the second turnbuckle...] CROWD: Four! Five! Six! [...then into the bottom turnbuckle...] CROWD: Seven! Eight! Nine! [...and once onto the canvas.] CROWD: TEN! [Huge pop!] SR: Ten! They can count to ten! That's a helluva lot better than that crowd we had in Iowa... TD: Hold on here... It looks like we have more company... [While Steele stands on the second turnbuckle with his arms raised to the crowd, down the rampway come George "Green Grappler" Gaines, along with his beautiful "significant other", Gaia. George is bare-chested, and has a peace sign written on his chest in black marker. He's also holding a sign that says "Meat is Murder!" Gaia is holding a sign that reads "Lips that touch meat..." on the front, and "...will never touch mine." on the back.] SR: What the hell is this? Two rejects from a Morrissey concert? TD: No! That's George Gaines! And Gaia! [Cut to the Gaines home in Portland, where the family is cheering the arrival of two of their own at Wembley. Larry "The Chainsaw" Gaines applauds, a tear forming at the corner of his eye, and says "That's my boy!"] TD: George "Green Grappler" Gaines, the brother of Gunnar, is here! George and Gaia are strict vegans. It amazes me that they can coexist with their lumberjack family. [Those in the ringside seats who know about the miscarriage applaud George, who waves his sign and leads them in a chant of "Meat is Murder!" The chant seems to pick up strength, as word of mouth begins to make its way through Wembley Stadium regarding the results of the incident with the tainted meat.] SR: Great. So we've got the original Soy Boy here. [Meatman is just about apoplectic as he sees in front of him not only his opponent's brother, but a militant vegan. He reaches over the rope, grabs the sign out of George's hands, and tears it in two. Undaunted, Gaia hands him another sign, this one reading "The Butcher Beats His Meat." George leads the crowd into another chant, this time saying "You killed a baby! You killed a baby!" Steele covers his ears and bellows in rage and guilt.] TD: Jimmy Steele is going into paroxysms here, Soundbite. SR: What? Parorgasms?! [Steele lunges again for George's sign, grabs it, and...] TD: Russian Sickle! Gunnar Gaines just clocked Steele with a clothesline to the back of the head! Right to the external occipital protuberance, Soundbite. SR: What? External Octopussy Pro Tuba-what?! [Gaines picks Meatman up and ...] TD: DENALI DRIVER! An inverted Steiner Screwdriver! The tide has turned for Gunnar Gaines! SR: It looks like the morons are starting to turn, as well. Look at the pop that Gaines is getting! [The crowd is about evenly split now between Meatman and Grizzly, and both sides are going crazy as the match goes on. Cut again to the Gaines home in Portland, where Ebeneezer Gaines is out of his rocking chair and taking swings at the air, encouraging his grandson to press the attack.] SR: Looks like Ebeneezer could have drawn #1 and still won the Progressive Death Match. [Back in the ring, Gaines has hooked a torture rack backbreaker and is calling for the lid of the cooler to be opened. IIWF officials Beaton and Summers open the lid, and the crowd goes insane! Gaines goes over to the ropes, and tries to heave the barely conscious Meatman into the icebox, but Steele rakes the eyes and drops to the apron, just in front of the cooler. He then hooks Gaines in the ropes and...] TD: SPITFIRE GRILL!!! SR: The Meat has Gaines tied up in the ropes, and he's twirling him around like it's Fricassee Night at The Keg! [Steele has Gaines's arms hooked in the ropes, and grabs him by the ankles and pulls him up and over so that he is upside-down, then lets go -- Gaines snaps back to vertical. Meatman continues the process until a very dizzy Gaines manages to slip his arms free from the ropes. Steele then reaches around, grabs Gaines by the neck, and drags him over the top rope and into the still-open icebox. But in the process, Meatman falls into the icebox as well, and the lid falls shut on both wrestlers.] SR: NO! Not another coffin cooler screwjob! TD: Steve... there's never been a coffin cooler match before. [As the cooler begins to shake, presumably because Steele and Gaines are still trying to beat each other up inside, IIWF President Daniel Spreadbury runs down the rampway and begins conferring with officials Beaton and Summers. Spreadbury motions to the referee, then to Sparkplug Lee, and the three straighten out what is to happen next.] TD: This crowd is buzzing as they await the ruling of IIWF president Daniel Spreadbury. SR: Someone get a camera and a microphone in there! Where's the "Coffin Cooler Cam?" Don't we have the budget for that, Dross? TD: We did, but you spent it all in Nagano buying used panties from vending machines. [Cut to a shot of Sparkplug Lee receiving instructions from President Spreadbury. Lee nods his head, then makes the announcement.] SL: Ladies and gentlemen... IIWF President Daniel Spreadbury has just announced that this match... MUST CONTINUE!!! [Cataclysmic pop as Beaton and Summers open the lid and both Meatman and Gaines emerge, pounding each other with fists of fury!] TD: How much more excitement can this crowd take?! SR: Whooo... Poppa Soundbite is havin' good times now, party people! [A slightly frosty Gaines and Steele step out of the cooler and begin tearing into each other, all the way around the ring. The ringside fans are all standing and going nuts, and it's impossible to tell who the crowd favours now. Those devoted to the Meat and those disgusted by him are equally vocal in their enthusiasm as the two combatants slug it out. Finally, a break in the battle as Gunnar blocks a punch and then starts biting Steele on the forehead.] TD: Gunnar Gaines tastes the cold Steele! SR: Dross! Ah, never mind. You can have a line once in a while. I'm too busy having fun watching these two beat the holy bejeezus out of each other. [Steele is bleeding from the forehead now as Gaines throws him back into the ring. Gaines rolls in, but Steele catches him with a boot to the head. Steele picks up Gaines, and nails him with the very dangerous Michinoku Driver #1. Big pop!] SR: Where did he come up with that? TD: Maybe Akebono took Steele to Kokuraken Hall for some extra study! Impressive move by the Man of Meat! [Meatman, almost entirely spent, rolls the body of Gunnar "Grizzly" Gaines toward the cooler and asks for the lid to be opened. But, just as he nears the icebox, he spots George Gaines with the following sign: "JIMMY STEELE HAS CREUTZFELDT-JAKOB DISEASE" ...and Steele flies into an absolute blind rage.] TD: Uh-oh... it looks like the "Green Grappler" has struck a nerve. [Steele swings wildly at the head of George Gaines, screaming a string of profanities at him. Gaia, meanwhile, reaches under the ring and produces a bucket filled with what appears to be blood. While Steele is fixated on George, Gaia swings the bucket and dumps its contents all over the Meatman.] SR: I _really_ don't like the looks of this, Dross. I think Meatman is gonna blow a gasket right here. [Everything seems to grind down to a halt as a stunned Jimmy Steele puts two fingers to his mouth and tastes the sticky red liquid. You can almost see the steam starting to come out of his ears as the mercury rises, rises, and finally shatters the thermometer.] SR: THAR SHE BLOWS!! TD: Hey, you used that line last week... [Jimmy Steele shoots out from under the bottom rope and chases after Gaia, who deftly hands the empty bucket to George as she takes off around the ring. George then tosses the bucket in the ring to Gunnar, who, regaining his senses and sensing the kill, reaches out through the ropes with the bucket at just the right moment, and Jimmy Steele runs straight into the bucket with a sickening THUD.] SR: Cripes, what is it with buckets in this fed... [Gaines drags the near-dead weight of Jimmy Steele into the ring, and gives the universal signal for...] TD: THE CHOKESLAM! Gaines is going to end it right here! [Gaines grabs Steele by the throat. Big pop! But then he lets go and wags his finger and says "NO NO NO!" Then...] TD: MANDIBLE CLAW!! Gaines is going for the Deluxe Grizzly Slam! [Gaines drives the fingers of his gloved right hand under Steele's tongue, then grabs him by the throat with the left. Even bigger pop! But, again, he lets go.] SR: He won't... TD: He _can't_... [From the front, Gaines hooks Steele's left arm behind his back in a hammerlock, then puts on the mandible claw, and picks Steele up by the jaw and drives him down to the mat in a vicious chokeslam.] SR & TD: HE DID!! [Insane crowd pop!] TD: Oh my! LIMITED EDITION GRIZZLY SLAM! [Cut to the Gaines homestead in Portland, where the family is going nuts, and Ebeneezer Gaines has pulled his shirt over his head and is pointing at his belly in the direction of the television, singing "Nyah-nyah-ny-NYAH-nyah!" at the close-up of the fallen Meatman.] SR: This one's over, Dross-man! [Gaines calls for the lid to be opened, rolls Steele under the bottom rope, and into the cooler, then climbs out and closes the lid shut.] SL: Ladies and Gentlemen... the winner... GUNNAR "GRIIIIIIIIIZLYYYYYY" GAINES! [The crowd pops like there's no tomorrow as Gaines embraces his brother and Gaia. He then goes over to his wife, Cheryl, who is in tears of joy as her victorious husband picks her up over the railing and sets her down. The family hug once again. On the videotron, the Gaines family appears, and they cheer wildly for Gunnar, then each and every one of them gives him a wide "Grizzly Grin". The crowd pops one more time, as Gunnar, himself almost overcome with emotion, leads his family up the rampway and through the curtain.] SR: Dross... [sniff] I think I'm going to cry. TD: Here ya go, big guy. [Dross hands Roberts a handkerchief, which Roberts uses to dab at the corners of his eyes, then blows his nose with a loud "HONK!" Roberts tries to give it back to Dross.] TD: Uh... no thanks, Steve. You can keep it. [Meanwhile, IIWF officials Beaton and Summers drag the cooler slowly back up the rampway. About halfway up the ramp, though, a banging noise emanates from inside the cooler. The officials back off, and Jimmy "The Meatman" Steels bursts out of the cooler, screaming a primal scream which shakes the very foundation of Wembley Stadium. Steele jumps out of the cooler and limps up the rampway as quickly as he can, clutching his right shoulder, which hangs off his torso at a sickeningly odd angle. As Steele disappears behind the curtain in hot pursuit of Gunnar Gaines, the crowd rises to its feet as one and chants "MEAT! MEAT! MEAT!", apparently having forgotten the circumstances which led up to this titanic struggle.] TD: Listen to this crowd! They're on their feet! They've gone crazy for both these competitors! CROWD: MEAT! MEAT! MEAT! SR: Ya hear that, Dross? Ya hear that, folks at home? This is what ya paid yer thirty bucks for! This is the Double I, Double U, F'n F!! CROWD: MEAT! MEAT! MEAT! SR: Poppa likes! Poppa _likes_! TD: Well, you think that'd be hard to top, but we've got _four_ title matches coming at you, plus the "Descent into Hell" match next! You ain't seen nothin' yet, folks! [Cut back to the broadcast table at ringside as the Meatman disappears into the locker rooms.] TD: We've got an enforced break here, folks, while a ring crew erects the scaffold for this next match -- but I understand that in the meantime, Dave Bacon is backstage with Shadoe Rage for an interview... hang on! Who's this? [There is a commotion from the entrance ramp, and a very excited VP Gregg Osterhout rushes in. He waves his hands frantically as if to say "Hold everything!" He gestures for the mic, but takes it from Sparkplug before the intrepid ring announcer has a chance to react. Despite the fact he bought new high-tops for the occasion, our beloved VP looks frazzled. He runs his hand through his thinning hair and begins:] GO: Ladies and gentlemen... distinguished guests from the house of lords... all our viewers on world-wide television, I apologize for interrupting the incredible spectacle which is Ring Wars... [The crowd explodes in cheers, but the VP shuts them up with a fierce glance. Something serious is going on here.] GO: I have come to tell you that there is a problem with... this! [From his jacket pocket he produces a specimen cup for urine testing just like the ones that the IIWF superstars have been asked to fill over the last few weeks. Like those, this one too is filled to the brim.] SR: What's he got there? A Vodka and Pineapple juice? TD: That's urine, Steve. SR: Oh, piss... water... leak... tickle... pee... TD: I hate to interupt your yellow stream of consciousness, but VP Osterhout appears to be speaking again. GO: Not all wrestlers have been sampled. Some are downright ornery. But the tests we have run have been promising. Our wrestlers are clean. [Crowd pop!] GO: Except for that nasty incident with Steve Manning -- and the fact that Marty Warnett submitted a cup of Diet Mountain Dew instead of urine -- we have had no complications. Until now. [He brandishes high the specimen cup. An astute spotlight operator shines his light on it.] GO: This sample cantains heavy amounts of... steroids! [Gasp from the crowd] GO: This sample belongs to none other than... IKE SAMPSON! [Huge heel pop! All of a sudden, there is utter chaos in the stands. Over the din, Tim Dross shouts:] TD: This is a shock! He's the poster boy... an example and a role model for children of all ages and races. [Steve Roberts is laughing too hard to reply.] TD: This... oh my. There must be a mistake. GO: This is no mistake. Due to his use of chemical substances, the competition committee and myself have declared Ike Sampson's "King of the Mountain" win... forfeited pending a disciplinary hearing! [Big heel pop!] GO: Eddy "Flap" Jacks is now the recognised winner of the 1998 "King of the Mountain" match. Thank you... and please continue to enjoy Ring Wars 5! [The crowd is hushed and confused. A "Say it ain't so... Ike" sign appears as if by magic. Osterhout hands the urine sample to a disillusioned fan at ringside and exits. The ring crew resumes building the scaffold. Cut back to the broadcast table at ringside, as Roberts wipes the tears of laughter out of his eyes.] TD: Oh... this is quite extraordinary, Steve Roberts. Ike Sampson, the figurehead of the "Wrestle Clean" campaign, guilty of steroid abuse? SR: It explains a lot, Dross. All that wild, losing his temper stuff -- that be the 'roid rage, big man. TD: Certainly Ike Sampson appears to have bulked up a bit since returning from Japan -- but steroid abuse? It just doesn't seem to fit with everything we know about this young man, Steve Roberts. SR: You're kidding me, right, Dross? Sampson is a murderer! He sees red, and -- BAM! Then he eats a hotdog! TD: There's sure to be more on this situation, folks, so we'll bring you an update just as soon as we can. Right now, though, we're almost ready for this huge match between Serge Annis and Mad Dog Watkins. [The IIWF ring crew feverishly works to assemble the scaffold as the two men continue to speak.] TD: This is a terribly crucial match for both men, Steve Roberts. I think the careers of _both_ men are on the line here, win or lose. SR: That's true, Dross. First of all, I think that Annis would rather die at this point than be pinned by Mad Dog Watkins, and it's safe to say that Watkins feels the same way, after all that he's done to Annis. TD: Indeed, it's a very personal feud, and there's so much pride at stake here that I doubt the loser will want to show his face again here in the Double Eye after this is all over. SR: That's because one of them is going to be a... [He makes an "L" sign with his hands...] Loo-ser! Loo-ser! Loo-ser! Loo-ser! TD: That's not a very respectful thing to say about two men who are risking it all in such a dangerous match. And that's my other point: the danger. Aside from pride, I think it's possible that the loser might not be able to continue here in the IIWF even if he _wants_ to. SR: Certainly the potential for very serious injury exists here. And I, for one... I _love_ it! I _need_ it! I _crave_ it! BLOOD! BLOOD! BLOOD! You know, blood has for me a fascination that is not only intellectual, but it's also nearly _carnal_. After all, if you can bleed 'em, you can breed 'em. That's what the Black Jesus always tells Chelsea. And then there was this one time that I had a three-on-one with a couple of her friends... TD: I'm certainly hoping those two friends weren't Socks and Buddy. SR: You're gross, Dross. TD: Steve Roberts... look at all these men have been through. Mad Dog Watkins has cost Serge Annis a chance to be the World Heavyweight Champion of the IIWF on two separate occasions. And Annis has responded by shackling the Mad Dog to a cage and setting it on fire, nearly immolating his hated rival. SR: I guess you could say the rivalry has been "burning hot." Which reminds me. I've felt burning hot lately because I think Chelsea gave me the clap. Stanford University is a notorious breeding ground for all sorts of filthy diseases. I should have known better than to drill a Cardinal. Still, she has two of the nicest biscuits I've ever... TD: [irritated] Could you please stop these stories? You're about as credible as Kathleen Willey, Kenneth Starr and the entire Clinton defence team put together. Please get off this subject. SR: Sure. Speaking of getting off, that reminds me of something. Good thing the basement's free. Chelsea and I were down there using it earlier, and let me say that the boiler room was hotter than ever after she took a little nibble of The Bite. Really, Dross. She did. TD: Uh... sure... even though she supposedly made your, ahem, you know, "burning hot." And on _that_ note, Steve Roberts, let's get down to the ring where Sparkplug Lee is ready to announce this much-anticipated match between Serge Annis and Mad Dog Watkins. You have been most entertaining, but now the scaffold is up. ________ ______ ..........................| || |\ \ /\ / /| __|......................... | || | \ v v / | __| |_||_| \_/\_/ |_| DESCENT INTO HELL SCAFFOLD MATCH: Serge Annis vs. Mad Dog Watkins ........................................................................ WRITER: Curt Kipp [Indeed. For, as one might expect, Sparkplug is standing ringside with a microphone. The scaffold is now fully assembled.] SL: This next event shall be a Descent Into Hell Scaffold Match! [Crowd roars its approval.] SL: The rules are as follows. A scaffold has been built above the ring, and tables have been set up about the ringside area. Both wrestlers shall begin the match at the top of the scaffold. However... the ONLY way to win this match is to leave the scaffold, drag your opponent up the aisle, through the backstage area, and down to the basement of the arena. [He takes a deep breath.] SL: Then, and _only_ then, may a wrestler attempt to pin his opponent or make him submit! [The crowd shows their approval and anticipation with an even louder barrage of cheers and chants.] SL: The first wrestler is on his way to the ring! ["Paint it Black" by the Rolling Stones echoes through the darkness of Wembley Stadium.] SL: Hailing from Detroit, Michigan, U.S.A.... standing 6 feet 5 inches tall and weighing in tonight at 269 pounds, here is a former IIWF Intercontinental Champion... MAD... DOG... WATKINS!! [Watkins appears at the top of the ramp. His head shaved as always, he is bare-chested and wearing long, black tights with purple trim around the waist.] TD: Mad Dog Watkins, receiving a mixed reaction here from the crowd, as some frankly believe he is washed up. But the Dogs of War are also out in force tonight, and they know what a pivotal match this is for their hero tonight. He may have cost Serge Annis the belt twice, though the Furies might disagree, but Serge went too far. He nearly burned the Mad Dog alive. And the Dogs demand revenge, Steve Roberts. SR: I don't. I think it was hilarious. Meatman and Mad Dog could form a tag team, in fact. Out of the Icebox and Into the Fire. [Watkins reaches ringside. He surveys the tables assembled around the ring and shakes his head with dissatisfaction. He reaches under the ring...] TD: I don't think that Watkins is quite happy with the way the furniture is arranged, and he's getting more tables out from under the ring. [Watkins stacks these tables on the existing ones, creating a tower of three tables in one place, and a pyramid of six along another edge of the ring. Then, he climbs the scaffold to the top and awaits his opponent.] TD: Just watching Watkins climbing that thing is making me nervous. It's rickety, and it looks like it could give way at any time. Not even the average skyscraper window washer would feel safe up there, by my reckon. SR: I don't think that Watkins or Annis really care about "safe." TD: You got me there. [Sparkplug Lee takes a breath and prepares to announce the arrival of Watkins's opponent.] SL: And his opponent... ["Hands of Death" by Rob Zombie and Alice Cooper echoes through Wembley Stadium...] SL: He hails from Oakville, Ontario, Canada... standing 6 feet 8 inches tall and weighing in tonight at an even 290 pounds... he is known as "The Epitome of Evil"... SERGE... ANNIS! [The spotlight shines at the top of the entrance ramp, but Annis is not seen.] TD: Perhaps a case of cold feet tonight for Serge... SR: I'd rather have that than _hot_ feet, like Mad Dog had a case of not too long ago... [But suddenly, heads in the crowd turn skyward to the upper deck of Wembley, where a spotlight shines upon Annis. Annis appears to jump off the upper deck into the air, but it becomes apparent he is attached to a zip line. Sparkplug Lee, perched nowhere close to where Annis is about to land, still reacts quickly and nervously...] SL: [quickly] Your referee tonight is Hugo Hugo. [Sparkplug bails out of the ring area altogether. Hugo arrives at ringside, takes one look at the towering scaffold, and decides that stationing himself somewhere near ringside will be good enough for now.] SR: Great. It's the Human Lawn Dart. So much for any enforcement... TD: Not that you care, Steve Roberts... [And, a split second later, Annis hits the ring after shimmying down the rope. He dashes across the top of the scaffold at Mad Dog Watkins and tackles him immediately as his fireworks go off.] TD: We've started -- and Annis with an immediate advantage! He's just tearing right into the Mad Dog with a flurry of punches! SR: AND you notice that he made sure not to be standing on his feet for long up there. The coward. Why, I landed an Asai Moonsault from a scaffold that high once. TD: Mad Dog rolling through and now he tears into Annis! Mad Dog on top! The Dogs of War are cheering him on as he unleashes a veritable flurry of punches... SR: Cliche, cliche... TD: ...on Serge Annis! Rights! Lefts... ! [crowd cheer] ...FOREARM SMASH! SR: Annis fighting back, though... TD: Right you are, as he returns several of the punches while lying flat on his back. Still, lying on your back you don't get the leverage and the blows don't hit as hard... SR: They do if you hit in the right places. I always like a shot to the temple. Stops them cold. TD: That can cause sudden death, Steve Roberts. SR: Well, duh... and so can a match like this. TD: Point taken. This match... it's like human cock fighting. It's over my staunch objections that I'm even calling a match like this. If one of them is permanently injured I don't know SR: Yeah, but think of it this way. Watkins is old. It's nearly time to take him out back and shoot him anyway. He's been the IC champ... he's had his run... and it's time to move on to the old folks' home like Quigley did just recently. TD: The Dogs of War would strongly disagree with you as these two men continue to brawl. Annis has rolled over and has the advantage now, with a slap that reverberates -- well, it's hard to reverberate in a huge cavernous stadium full of screaming fans in the middle of the night. But it sure was loud. [Annis, on his hands and knees, attempts to drag Watkins towards the edge of the scaffold. But Watkins fights it every inch of the way. Then, Watkins decides it is to his advantage to go to the edge, and the two, propelled by the change in momentum, teeter perilously close to the edge.] TD: Watkins on top now... and he bangs Annis's head into the plywood surface of the scaffold! I don't have to remind everyone what's at stake here... SR: ...but you will... TD: ...that's right, as the winner will surely become a top contender to face either Shadoe Rage or Steve Kowalski. They're both already in the top five of heavyweight contenders... SR: Whoopee. You're basically saying that they're both in line for a trip to Skullpump City. Bravo for them. [Roberts gives a version of the golf clap.] TD: The two men are now gingerly standing -- that doesn't last for long as Watkins hits the short clothesline on Annis. Annis grabs the trunks of Watkins and pulls him down sharply to the plywood. SR: We almost got a glimpse of the full monty there. The American Drag Queens ought to be down here watching. They could have stolen a peek right there. TD: Watkins wants to stand... Annis wants to brawl on the plywood... and now Annis finally stands up. He cocks his fists -- CLOSED fists, which are illegal... SR: I doubt Gregg Osterhout is going to climb up there and stop them... TD: And Watkins swings! He misses! Annis with a go-behind! Belly to back -- it's blocked between the legs! Annis around to the front and a crotch grab applied to Watkins! SR: Simply a Greco-Roman Gulotta lock. [Thunderous boos] TD: Watkins keeled over, and Annis grabs him around the middle... [Crowd gasp] TD: OH NO! Annis has gutwrenched Watkins right off the scaffold! Watkins crashes through that pyramid of tables at ringside! And Annis is losing his balance! He takes a few steps forward, trips... [Crowd gasp] TD: ...and Annis falls off as well! He crashes through a stack of three tables! Both men are down! Both men are down! SR: What a spectacular pair of crashes. Those two were fighting over thirty feet in the air. Whoever dreamed up this match is a pure genius. It's like a bungee cord match -- with no bungee cords! TD: These men aren't moving. I'd swear from the way Mad Dog landed that he has broken his neck. And Annis... he's twitching involuntarily and his eyes are rolling back into his head. SR: He always does that when he forgets to take his medication. TD: This is no time to joke. I think both men are seriously hurt here... and, again, neither one of them is moving. We need to stop this insanity right now and get some medics out here. SR: Maybe, but Hugo Hugo is afraid to do it. If he calls the match and one of them recovers, then the little Latin American is going to be used for a human bowling pin by whoever survived. TD: Good point. By the way, while nothing is happening, I have a question for you. What happens if they are disabled and cannot continue? SR: Nothing. The match _must_ continue. It can't end until they are in the basement under the stands here at Wembley, and one of them pins the other. TD: Surely they can't wrestle in this condition. And no, Steve Roberts, you can't "make them." SR: I can and I will. I... [A hand reaches through the wreckage that used to be a pyramid of folding tables, and the crowd reacts with an explosion of cheers. A second hand now reaches through, and it is followed by the figure of Mad Dog Watkins attempting to crawl out of the debris. There is a huge swollen spot near his elbow, as a bruise has apparently formed there.] TD: I don't believe this. Mad Dog Watkins is emerging from this wreckage! He has yet to stand, but never mind that. I can't even believe that he is moving! SR: He must have taken a hell of a lot of Tylenol before match time. Or maybe enough Soma to knock out... TD: I don't know where you're going with that, but I find it in poor taste nonetheless. Watkins now looking around, trying to figure out what happened to Serge Annis. SR: He's probably trying to figure out more basic things right now, such as who he is and which planet he's on. [Watkins spots Annis, sprawled on the wreckage of three ex-tables. Mad Dog then stands, grabs a folding chair, and lays it flat on the motionless body of Serge Annis. He backs up limply, takes a run, flips and does a running backsplash senton onto the chair and the prone Annis. Annis is rocked with the impact -- and awakened!] TD: Watkins bounces off Annis -- and Annis is to his feet! He falls over forward quickly, though, losing his balance. And now Watkins standing over the sprawled Annis, he hooks up a piledriver and lifts the limp Annis... PILEDRIVER! ON THE FLOOR! Oh my! That one practically _compressed_ the skull of Serge Annis! SR: I think I saw some brain cells squirt out his ears. They look sort of like pickle relish. [Watkins quickly stands and picks up Annis by the scalp. He whips Annis towards the guardrail, but Annis falls flat on his face before he can even be thrown into the rail. Frustrated, Watkins bends over to pick Annis back up...] TD: Fingers to the throat! Eye gouge! And Annis awakes! Could he... could he have been playing possum? In a match like this? SR: I think he was playing possum in the sense that I associate possums with roadkill, and Annis definitely looked like roadkill for a minute there. Had _me_ fooled. TD: Annis now dragging Watkins... er, NOT by the hair, because he doesn't have any, but by the waist. They're headed up the aisle quickly now... [Annis slams Watkins face-first into a guard rail. Quickly locating a Dog of War, he headlocks Watkins and stands next to the fan, screaming "Here's your hero! He stinks, doesn't he?"] TD: Oh, the humiliation! And now Annis is grabbing a chair from one of the fans... [THWACK! Annis crowns the Mad Dog with the chair. Annis then takes the semiconscious Watkins up the entrance ramp and the two disappear into the backstage area.] SR: Sramble a camera operator. Stat. We don't want to miss a minute of this. TD: I can't believe these two are still going at it. They're like the Energ... SR: Now, now, Dross. You know that if the battery people want free advertising, they have to pay for it. TD: Yeah, and that made sense, Steve Roberts. [Switch view to backstage. The two are in a long cinder-block corridor. Annis picks up Watkins and body-slams him into a large plastic garbage can. Then he drop-kicks the can over.] TD: Annis now rolling Watkins along the floor, still in that can. He's headed somewhere -- but where? SR: I doubt he knows, Dross. _I_ sure don't. TD: We're coming up on a beer vending storage area -- oh no. Annis is positioning Watkins next to a stack of beer kegs! And now he hops a nearby forklift... SR: This is insane. TD: I agree... and in fact I'm refreshed by your uncharacteristic display of concern for your fellow humans... SR: Humans? Hell. I'm afraid he might bust open a keg and spill some of that beer. TD: ...and he rams the stack of kegs with that forklift! They tumble down right onto the Mad Dog! Somebody has to stop this! They haven't even made it to the boiler room yet! And where's Hugo Hugo? SR: Not sure. I don't have my binoculars on, and he can't normally be seen with the naked eye anyway. TD: Oh, wait. There he is... _behind_ the kegs. But this is horrible. Watkins could be killed under there. I don't even see him. SR: I guess Annis wanted to stop and have a beer, and I don't blame him. [Strangely enough, Annis grabs a plastic cup and pours himself a brew out of a nearby keg, which happens to be tapped.] TD: Oh, my... you're right. Annis enjoying himself, and... look out... [Out of the fallen heap of beer kegs, Mad Dog Watkins rises to his feet behind Annis, raising one of the kegs over his head. It and the others are empty, as evidenced by the ease with which Watkins manipulates it. And he brings it...] TD: OUCH! Right on the head! SR: I don't think he fully got him, Dross. Seems to me that he slipped. TD: Annis recovers, as he turns around -- and his hands go straight for the throat of Watkins! [They both fly backwards onto the mess of upset beer kegs, rolling along uncontrollably on the kegs. They are carried along the floor to the open door of a freight elevator and deposited there. The doors close and the kegs are left behind, but the camera operator makes it into the elevator just in time. Watkins is sent flying into the control panel and inadvertently hits the "down" button.] TD: Goooooooing... down! SR: Jeez, Dross... why do you always have to remind me of Chelsea? There's no need to rub it in. TD: Watkins... _viciously_ slamming the head of Annis into the elevator walls! Annis fights back with a headbutt to the chin of Watkins! The door opens... they're on the ground floor! One more floor to go to get to the basement! And I know for a fact the only way to get to that boiler room in the basement [Watkins whips Annis out of the elevator into another block-walled corridor. Annis reverses it and Watkins goes flying into a stack of pallets, upsetting the stack and breaking several into splinters. Annis follows his opponent and flies into him with a splash dive -- but Watkins rolls out of the way.] TD: Quick reflexes on the part of Watkins -- and I think Annis is bleeding. He's been punctured by the wood or by a nail or something, because he's turning blood red about the right shoulder. SR: And he's not too happy about it! [Annis wipes some blood off his shoulder with his hand, then slaps Watkins in the face with it, leaving a red hand print across his cheek. Watkins reacts with a reflexive kick to the abdomen on Annis. With Annis keeled over, Watkins hooks him up for a power bomb...] TD: Oh no... not on the splinters... [...and he elevates him into the air...] SR: I think "Wrestle Clean" went out the window in this encounter long ago... [...but Annis reverses it in mid-air into a hurricanrana, driving Mad Dog's head into the splintered wooden pallets with a sickening crunch. Both men are motionless. Hugo Hugo checks the condition of both men and, getting a good look at them, gets a decidedly pale look on his face. Then, slowly, Annis begins to stir, and he gingerly rises to his feet.] TD: Annis grabbing Watkins by the arm and pulling him up... and now he grabs the Mad Dog by the head and runs straight at a door! [Annis rams Watkins face first into a door, knocking it open. But the inside is merely a janitorial closet, not the way to the basement. Nonetheless...] SR: Oh man! There's some serious goodies in that closet! [Annis grabs a broom and winds up, ready to sock Watkins in the face with the handle. But Watkins quickly grabs a can of cleansing powder and shakes it right in the face of Annis, blinding him with a cloud of green powder. Watkins then empties the entire can out onto Annis, making him a shade of light green all over. Clumps of powder stick to the sweat on his body.] SR: [singing] # Comet! It's makes your teeth turn green! Comet! It tastes like gas-o-line! Comet! It makes you vomit! So get your Comet and vomit today! # TD: Please stop, "Soundbite" Steve Roberts. Mad Dog Watkins now fetching a mop out of the closet -- no! He sees a cordless power vacuum! He grabs it and shatters it across the jaw of Serge Annis! SR: I'd call that a Black and Decker Face Wrecker. There's _one_ vacuum that sure sucks -- for Annis, that is. That one had to hurt. [Watkins then grabs the mop and makes an apparent attempt to shove it right down Annis's throat.] TD: Look -- that cleansing powder is sticking to Annis's congealed bloody spot on his shoulder. That could really sting... [And as Dross says that, Annis explodes in a wail of pain, like a cat that's just had its tail broken by a rocking chair. He shoves Watkins off of him, and Watkins collapses in a heap inside the closet. Watkins attempts to step out...] TD: OUCH! Mad Dog Watkins just had the door slammed in his face! And now Annis opens it again... [...and slams it shut on Watkins. The sickening thud indicates that Watkins absorbed more of the blow than the door frame.] SR: WHAM! This is great! [Annis opens the door again. Watkins again makes a slow attempt to get out of the closet -- and Annis slams the door on him again.] TD: Annis has to get Watkins out of that closet eventually. He can't win by doing this all day. SR: No, he can't. And besides, it can be hard to get people out of the closet. Why, look at the Down Boys. _Everyone_ knows about them, but yet they still refuse to admit -- [WHAM! Annis slams the closet door on Watkins again, just as he was about to escape. And then, Annis collapses, apparently still bothered by the Comet cleanser seeping into his bloodstream. He quickly stands, then staggers down the hallway.] TD: Annis apparently on the lookout for a bathroom... something to get that cleanser cleaned off. That stuff could _poison_ him if too much enters his bloodstream. SR: If it's cleanser... wouldn't it clean _itself_ off? TD: Good grief. [Split screen. Annis finds a door labelled "Men" and enters. Meanwhile, the closet door behind which Watkins is encased creeps open. Watkins is standing inside with a mop bucket raised over his head -- but sees that Annis is no longer there. He sets the bucket down and sets off to follow a trail of blood and cleanser. Cut to just a single shot of the Men's room, where Annis finds a sink. He turns on the water and immerses his face.] TD: Annis, trying to wash that powder off his body -- and I can't blame him! [Enter Watkins through the door, mop bucket raised.] TD: Oh my. This doesn't look good for Annis... [Annis hears the door creak, turns from the sink, and is greeted with a bucket to the head! Soap bubbles and water fly everywhere, as the bucket was apparently filled.] SR: _That_ ought to get him clean. [Watkins sets the bucket down. He hooks the keeled-over Annis up for a piledriver and positions his head over the top of the bucket.] TD: He has him up... and Annis reverses out of it! Back body drop -- into the _urinal_! Watkins sprawled upside down with his head on the drain! And Annis reaches down, grabs the urinal cake from the drain, and shoves it into -- oh, this is too much. SR: He's letting Mad Dog have his cake and eat it too! Minty fresh! TD: OUCH! [Annis kicks the upside-down Watkins in the jaw... then paces off into a stall. He returns with a couple of rolls of toilet paper, and proceeds to wrap Watkins up, mummy-like.] SR: I know what Watkins is saying about now. "I want my mummy!" TD: Oh my. Annis has just reached into his tights and pulled out a Zippo lighter. Hugo Hugo, realising what he's about to do, reaches over to take it away -- and he's shoved aside by Annis! Annis flicks the lighter, and he _lights the toilet paper_! Mad Dog Watkins is mummified -- and he's on FIRE! [Watkins waves his arms and legs wildly, sending flaming bits of toilet paper flying. He heads straight for the sink, splashing the water that Annis was washing with earlier on himself. Annis takes the opportunity to slam the Mad Dog's face onto the faucet... then whips him towards the exit, which Watkins flies into back first. Annis flies towards him, but Watkins steps aside and opens the door. Annis flies right through it.] SR: How gentlemanly. Who said sportsmanship is dead in the Double Eye? TD: Right. [Watkins exits and clotheslines Annis as he turns around. He picks Annis up -- and spots a door labelled "Basement." Hugo Hugo follows along as the duo head for the door, then speeds ahead to actually open it for them.] TD: I think Hugo wants this to end before someone is more seriously hurt. SR: Yeah -- including him. That little chicken. [The two men go through the door -- and into darkness. A series of crashing sounds is heard, raising quite a clamour.] TD: Oh no. That didn't sound good. The lights off -- the stairs -- surely those two haven't crashed down the... SR: Someone turn on a light down there! [Hugo is seen at the door to the basement flipping a switch. A faint reddish light comes on. Apparently we are, indeed, at the top of a flight of metal grate stairs. The two men are nowhere to be seen. We carefully descend, following Hugo, into the near-darkness and the silence.] TD: What has _happened_ down there? [As we reach the bottom, we see the two men sprawled on the floor, motionless. Mad Dog Watkins is flat on the cement... and Serge Annis is on top of him.] TD: Hugo counting the pin -- one... two... three! Unbelievable! [A roar comes from the crowd as they watch on the big screen. Back at ringside, the bell is rung. Sparkplug Lee stands on the apron of the ring with the mic, ready to announce the decision.] SL: Ladies and gentlemen... your winner, by pinfall... SERGE... ANNIS! [The crowd roars with a series of boos for "The Epitome of Evil."] TD: Your winner, after all that, Serge Annis. And I was surprised that it went on _that_ long. Nonetheless... SR: I really think those two need help. Both of them. They're still not moving. [The camera view switches back to a view of Hugo Hugo attempting to revive the two men. Failing to do so, he calls for help.] TD: They need some medical assistance down in that basement. On the double. [A painfully long pause ensues as we watch Hugo frantically yelling for help -- help that seems to take forever to arrive. Finally, a pair of stretcher teams arrives on the scene, along with Becky LaRue, holding a microphone. Strangely enough, the cordless mic is _pink_.] SR: Why, that's a mighty nice microphone you have there, Becky! BL: Thanks, Soundbite. It's my very favorite one! SR: Does it remind you of anyone? Anyone in particular? BL: Well, it... TD: Knock it off, you two. Becky, you're supposed to be reporting on the condition of Serge Annis and Mad Dog Watkins. BL: Oh yeah, that. Well, let me take a look... [She looks.] BL: Timmy, they appear to be... this is serious. The stretcher teams have loaded the two men, who remain unconscious and motionless. Both are having their necks immobilised on the stretcher, as the medical teams are being very careful not to injure either of these men any further. Upstairs, a metal rolling door has opened, and I can hear sirens... TD: This could be another recent tragedy in what seems to be a _series_ of tragedies here in the IIWF. Can you tell anything about the condition either man is in? BL: The medics are not administering CPR, and they don't have the shock paddles out... so I assume they're breathing normally. But they're both out cold as far as I can tell. [Blue lights flash with increasing frequency, and sirens get louder, as two ambulances back up to the top of the stairs. The medical crews move the two stretchers up the stairs and into the ambulances. First, Mad Dog Watkins. Then, Serge Annis.] BL: Tim... I'm not sure if these two men are ever going to be the same again. Either of them. It's such a shame... I hate to see two handsome men such as this in such a dire medical condition. SR: Mad Dog Watkins... handsome? Now I've heard everything. TD: If he was handsome before, he's not now. It's a terrible thing when a disagreement between two men has to come to something like this. I'd say neither one is the true winner when all is said and done here. [The first ambulance speeds off, through the metal door to the outside of Wembley Stadium, and then into the streets of London. The second one follows.] BL: The two men have left the stadium... and I'll try to keep you up to date on their condition with information as I receive it. Back to you, Tim and Steve. [Cut back to ringside as the fans begin to settle once more, the ring crew busily removing the scaffolding once more and sweeping away fragments of ringside tables. Another ring crew begins to pull large steel cage wall panels from under the squared circle.] TD: What an absolutely shocking match, Steve Roberts. Annis and Watkins both on their way to hospital -- but we still have another hour of action coming your way! Four matches, four titles on the line... only here at Ring Wars 5! We'll be right back with a bout for the IIWF Cruiserweight Championship, inside a fifteen foot steel cage! [Cut to a wide-angle shot of the stadium as the first wall of the steel cage is erected, the fans excitedly awaiting the next match. 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 -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=+