________ ______ __ ____ ___ __ . _ ___ | || |\ \ /\ / /| __| / /\ | | || \| \ /\ \ / |\ || / \| | | | || | \ v v / | __| \__ /__\ | | ||__/| |/__\ v | \||| __|-| | |_||_| \_/\_/ |_| \ \| v | \|__/ \| | || \_|| | | __________________________/...hour two...\........|...|.......|....| LIVE! IIWF Coliseum, Portland, Oregon 11 April 1998 [The graphics fade through to interior shots of the jam-packed IIWF Coliseum, the sea of fans cheering and waving their signs as a volley of fireworks erupts in the rafters high above the ring. The shot eventually cuts to the broadcast table at ringside, at which are seated Tim Dross and "Soundbite" Steve Roberts.] TD: Welcome back to the IIWF Coliseum, folks, and welcome to the second hour of tonight's broadcast! Coming up in the next sixty minutes we have the first two matches in that big "King of the Cruisers" tournament, we have the IIWF Cruiserweight Championship on the line as young Icehawk makes his first defence -- against the most unlikely challenger you will ever see, the three hundred pound monster, Eddy "Flap" Jacks. Plus we will hear comments from the IIWF World Heavyweight Champion, Steve "the Fury" Kowalski, and of course, there's our huge Intercontinental Championship Tournament battle royal! All that still to come.. but now it's time for this "remembrance," this "service" if you will, for Justin Lawrence Gaines. I'm just wondering what Gunnar and Cheryl Gaines are going to have to say. [Cheryl and Gunnar Gaines enter at the top of the ramp. No ring music. No "Bad to the Bone." He is dressed in a brown suit... and she has a flowered, knee-length spring dress on. They walk slowly to the ring, stopping to chat with fans near the aisle who offer their condolences to the couple. Gunnar walks past "Sychosys" Joe Petrow, who remains in the stands and is at the railing, gripping it very tightly. Gaines nods to Petrow, some kind of tacit understanding passing between the two men, and then Gunnar moves to help the unsteady Cheryl into the ring.] TD: The death of little Justin Gaines, obviously very hard on Gunnar and Cheryl Gaines. SR: Obviously, it was, Dross. TD: And the fans have poured out their hearts and their sympathies for a man who, just a few weeks ago, knocked his opponent unconscious and left him to freeze in a refrigerated truck. How quickly things change. Gunnar lost his child and did gain his revenge for that. And now, all of that is past. This moment is for the purpose of paying proper respects, of saying goodbye. SR: Even people like a Joe Petrow, who lost his girlfriend and child to a miscarriage himself, have offered Gunnar their sympathy. [Gunnar arrives at the ring and speaks, in a somber tone.] GGG: We cannot do what we are about to do, in tribute to my son, without two very important men -- my father and my grandfather. [Eyes turn to the top of the entrance ramp. After a moment, two men step out through the curtain. They are Gunnar's dad and grandfather, Larry "Chainsaw" Gaines and Ebeneezer "Geezer" Gaines... and they are carrying a small, polished wooden casket.] TD: I can't believe the Gaines family is really doing this. Certainly, it's a very unusual gesture. SR: Look, Dross. The kid was a Gaines. His father was a three-time world champion. His grandfather, a Northwest heavyweight champion over ten times. His great-grandfather... you get the idea. Young Justin deserves his time in the spotlight, even if it's just once. [Geezer and Larry continue to walk slowly down to the ring, passing rows of fans on their way -- fans who are respectfully silent.] TD: You know, Steve Roberts... it occurs to me that most people have families and friends in their home towns, but the Gaines family spends their life on the road. These fans ARE their friends. These fans ARE their family. And this... this "ceremony" or I don't know what to call it... this "service," if you will... it's Gunnar's way to quietly acknowledge that, in spite of all his hostility and bravado. [Roberts simply nods. By now, Larry and Geezer have arrived at ringside with the tiny casket. They carry it up the ring steps and enter the ring.] TD: I've never seen an atmosphere anything like this, Steve Roberts. [Gunnar raises the microphone to speak.] GGG: Justin Lawrence Gaines... I don't know if you ever would have been a wrestler. You were just a child... a young baby, conceived eight and a half months ago, ready to enter the world. There was not going to be any pressure from me or your mother... but my dream was to raise and train and nurture a world champion, like my father did and my grandfather dreamed of doing. And I'm sure, if you wanted to, you could have realized my dream, just as I already realized a dream of my own and my father's by wearing a world title. [He sniffles.] You may not have done that. You could have been anything you wanted, because Cheryl and I... we love you. But, Justin... you never had that choice. [He sniffles again, this time into a handkerchief.] You never had that _chance_. Your life was taken away so needlessly, snuffed like a bud that one day would blossom so magnificently. But not now. [Cheryl breaks down into tears. Larry comforts her by gripping her shoulder, while she leans and cries onto Gunnar's massive shoulder.] GGG: Justin... if I listen carefully I can hear your voice. You cannot speak, but if I concentrate and look into my heart I hear the wisdom of an eternity echoing in the form of the one cry you left us with before moving on. And I think if everyone opens their ears and their souls... they can hear it as well, just this once. [Larry and Geezer lift the lid of the coffin slowly, revealing the body of the baby wrapped in blankets, looking lifelike but motionless. He's peaceful... almost as if sleeping. Gunnar holds the microphone out to the coffin, in a gesture that's more symbolic than anything.] GGG: Listen... [The members of the crowd comply with Gunnar's wish and honor the child with a moment of silence.] TD: I find this oddly touching... a fitting tribute to someone who could have been a fourth-generation star but lost the only battle he ever fought. The battle with life. SR: Yeah... the battle with life. [scornfully] And with Jimmy "Meatman" Steele. TD: Now is not the time, Steve Roberts. I'm sure that Jimmy Steele feels awful about what has happened. The consequences were so obviously unintended. How was he to know? I... [Suddenly a piercing wail rings out through the arena.] TD: What was that? [And again. Another cry... this time more obviously coming from the casket. Smiles creep across the faces of Gunnar, Larry and Geezer's faces.] TD: Oh, no. Don't tell me... [Gunnar's smile widens into a grin. A _Grizzly Grin_.] SR: The kid's alive, Dross! He's alive! TD: Surely Gunnar Gaines wouldn't stoop to _this_. I mean, this is awful. [The camera view inside the ring switches to an extreme close-up of the child in the coffin. Cheryl reaches in and lifts little Justin out, removing the blanket from him. He kicks his legs... and he cries. As she lifts him, one can see the T-shirt that Gunnar and Cheryl have dressed him in. It reads, "I outsmarted the Meatman." She holds him against her shoulder, gently rocking him back and forth.] TD: We've been had! Gunnar and Cheryl Gaines have just pulled one of the most _despicable_ stunts, one of the most _cynical_ hoaxes, I've ever seen in a long, long time. They only did this to manipulate Jimmy "Meatman" Steele! They only did it to manipulate us all! SR: Actually... I think this is great! Now _that's_ how you play mind games! [The crowd slowly catches on... and they shower the Gaines family with a thundering cascade of boos and jeers. The shot cuts to show Joe Petrow at ringside: he is apparently in shock, his jaw hanging open, his face drained of all colour, and tears falling from his eyes. His hands start to shake, the railing which he still grips rattling from the violence of his reaction. All the while, McArthur and the Sychopaths look very concerned. The shot cuts back to Gaines in the ring, clearly enjoying the hostile reaction he is receiving from the fans.] GGG: [laughing] Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha... SHUT UP, you little fart stains. [The volume of the boos increases, though that didn't seem possible a moment before.] GGG: Jimmy Steele... you were _fooled_. You were deceived, you were manipulated... you were _used_. And you _deserved_ it. [The boos increase again.] TD: Jimmy Steele did not deserve this. _No one_ deserves to be tricked into thinking their actions led to the death of a child. GGG: You deserved it... because you're stupid. You're stupid... and you poisoned what goes on the family table at Casa Gaines. And when you do that... YOU end up on the family table. [Larry and Geezer laugh. Cherry smiles as she rocks the baby against her shoulder. Even the baby smiles and gives a little giggle.] GGG: I know it's hard to swallow, Meatman... but you were just tricked by the Baddest Thang Running. And then... you had your ass kicked. Tricked and kicked... because, frankly, I think you're a d[bleep]. Pure and simple. And that leaves _one_ down, and many others to try and answer the challenge that I, Gunnar Gaines, personally issue every single God damn day. It's something everyone wants to do... but ain't no one in the Double Eye that's done it yet. [Thumb to himself.] Beat _ME_... if you can! [The opening riff of "Bad to the Bone" by George Thorogood and the Destroyers rings out through the arena. Then, as the song plays, the entire Gaines family moves to depart, as the crowd continues to jeer with disapproval. The very same fans who offered condolences and tears as the Gaines entered, spit upon them as Gaines leaves the ring and holds the ropes open for Cheryl, who clutches the crying baby tightly.] TD: Oh... oh my. I simply cannot believe how this man, this family... how they have played on the sympathies of these people, how they have made a mockery of a true tragedy, a mockery of the tragic losses of hundreds of young lives... oh, I'm lost for words, Steve Roberts. This is simply disgusting. [Gaines helps Cheryl down to the arena floor and playfully chucks young Justin Gaines under the chin. The jeers from the fans are almost deafening, the Gaines family walking under a rain of trash, balled up paper cups, shredded programmes... and then suddenly, there is somebody else in the ringside enclosure! Suddenly, Petrow snaps, leaps the rail, and charges straight for Gunnar Gaines! Huge pop!] TD: Oh my! Joe Petrow! Joe Petrow and Gunnar Gaines! Oh my! [The fans pop wildly as Petrow wails away at the surprised Gaines, who is so shocked by the ferocity of the attack that for a few moments, he is rendered helpless. Petrow has the look of a madman as he thrashes away at Gaines like a wounded animal, clawing at his eyes, tearing at his hair, throwing numerous groin shots, completely out of control. Within moments, the elder members of the Gaines clan and Maurice McArthur, as well as some of the other Sychopaths, are huddled around the brawling pair. The occasional body is sent flying -- Geezer Gaines is knocked to the floor, one of the Sychopaths is tossed over the barriers and back into the crowd -- but within moments, the altercation is over. Just as suddenly, Petrow stops.  He stops, stands, and turns to look quietly at Mrs. Gaines and their child.  Just standing and staring.] TD: This is... well, this is strange, to say the least, Steve Roberts. We know that Joe Petrow is not the most balanced of individuals at the best of times, but this seems to have hit a particularly raw nerve with the co-holder of the World Tag Team titles. But now... now, Petrow is just standing there. He's just standing there, looking at that tiny baby. [There is an uneasy stand-off, as Gaines' family restrains the big Grizzly, who puts a hand to his nose and finds that it is bleeding. The sight of his own blood is like a red rag to a bull, and suddenly, Gaines launches himself at Petrow once more, Gaines knocking "Sychosys" to the floor and sending the Sychopaths scattering. The crowd erupts once more!] TD: Oh my! Oh my! Look at Gaines, just bludgeoning Petrow down there! Petrow isn't fighting back! Petrow... is he unconscious?! SR: Too many bodies, Dross! I can't see a thing! [Again, within moments, the Sychopaths and the Gaines clan descend on the brawl, separating the two men. Larry Gaines hauls his son away from Petrow, and places himself between the Grizzly and the felled Petrow. Gunnar seems to be staring, wild-eyed, right through his father at "Sychosys", who is dragged to his feet by Maurice McArthur. Yet more bodies arrive on the scene as security rush down to ringside and herd Cheryl Gaines, still clutching her baby, up the aisle. Larry, Ebeneezer and Gunnar Gaines follow, Gunnar walking slowly backwards and watching as Petrow is helped back into the stands, one of his eyes bruised and closed by rapid swelling. The crowd continues to jeer loudly as Gaines is forced back to the locker room area. Cut back to the broadcast table at ringside.] TD: Well, folks, I'm not sure exactly what to make of that. Joe Petrow certainly took a strong exception to the words of Gunnar Gaines here tonight -- and for what reason, we can only speculate. SR: Now's not the time for a history lesson, Dross -- but suffice it to say that Joe Petrow has his reasons. TD: I'm sure we've not heard the last of this situation, folks. We'll try and get some comments from Gunnar "Grizzly" Gaines before we go off the air tonight -- but right now, it's time for the first of tonight's two "King of the Cruisers" matches. Let's get up to the ring to see El Hijo Del Satanico square off against former IIWF great, Tiger Claw! ________ ______ | || |\ \ /\ / /| __|.................................................. | || | \ v v / | __| KING OF THE CRUISERS TOURNAMENT FIRST ROUND: |_||_| \_/\_/ |_| El Hijo Del Satanico [CLLL] vs. Tiger Claw [ind.] ....................................................................... WRITER: Derek Edwards [Sparkplug Lee suddenly clears his throat, and in an odd moment, somehow has learned fluent Spanish...] RA: Y la segunda luchadore... (The next wrestler...) [There is a pause, and then a slow, eerie tune, that of "Funeral March," begins to blare over the Public Address system in the arena. The lights dim and the single spotlight in the building focuses on the entrance.] RA: La segunda luchadore es de la ciudad capital de Mexico... el pesa un poco mas de ochenta y cuatro kilos... veinte anos... el super super rudo... EL HIJO DEL SATANICO! (The next wrestler is from the capital city of Mexico...weighing a little more than 84 kilos (180 pounds), 20 years old... the super super rudo... El Hijo Del Satanico!) [El Hijo Del Satanico jogs through the curtain, basically acknowledging nothing. He stops as soon as he in full view, appearing in the spotlight and raising a single fist to the air to a nice heel pop, nothing huge, as the crowd respectfully sits in awe. EHDS walks slowly to ringside, ignoring everything around him as he slides into the ring and stands in the centre, spinning around with his arms opened to the sides for the crowd to get a full view. He is wearing his traditional bright red Mask with eye and nose holes but no mouth opening, and a pair of fiery red full-length tights, with white boots with red laces. He steps out of the centre, and stands in the corner, awaiting the bell.] TD: The fans don't know what to make of this wrestler. This is our first time seeing El Hijo Del Satanico. SR: And hopefully our last. He's a bottom-feeder from a bottom feeder promotion. He's just lucky to even have the chance to have Tiger Claw eat him for lunch. TD: I think you're underestimating the newcomer. SR: Nah, if I was, I would've said breakfast! [Sparkplug begins the second announcements for Tiger Claw. He raises the microphone to his lips, blowing out his cheeks as he prepares to speak. But before he can get out the first words the curtains part and Tiger Claw comes stalking out with his own microphone.] TC: Alright, listen up! SR: Tiger Claw works the mic better than Joyce Brothers! [The crowd gives a mixed pop... Some cheer for the return of the former IIWF star, some boo for the derogatory statements they may or may not have picked out from his interviews lately. Claw is completely unfazed by the reaction as he steps out from behind the curtain, microphone in hand, and wearing a t-shirt which reads "This is your last chance" over his black singlet.] TC: Dondo es la hospital? Huh? Hey, Satanico! Dondo es la hospital?! You know? You better, because it's where you're going after all is said and done. Hey... Nice sign... [Claw refers to the mysterious Ned Norton fan who hasn't been seen in Portland in some time. He holds a sign reading "Syndicate, foo'!" Claw smirks and moves on, reaching ringside, where he stops.] TC: Anyway, Satanico, let me get right to the point. This match can't officially start until I've stepped in the ring. What I'm doing right now is giving you one last chance to save yourself the pain of being beaten, and the depression you'd suffer through recuperation. I'm giving you the chance right now to walk out of the ring, take a forfeit, and give me the win. [The crowd gives a loud heel pop at these comments. El Hijo Del Satanico gives a gesture that can be taken as a rejection of the offer, and brings a fairly good sized pop.] CROWD: YOU SOLD OUT! YOU SOLD OUT! YOU SOLD OUT! TC: Yeah, that's what I thought... I figured you were too stupid to take advantage of an out... At least the first time... [Claw walks up the ring steps and through the ropes] TC: And you just missed another chance right there... Could have smacked me walking through the ropes. Now, Satanico, I'm being really generous here... I've given you two chances, which is two more than I usually give anyone, but I'm feeling like giving you the chance to stand on even ground with me. This is quite a night, huh? I'm going to make it even better... I told you I was bringing you a shirt... Remember? Good... Well, this is it... You like? [Claw points to the shirt, although the meaning behind it is a bit unclear.] TC: Sorry, maybe you don't get it. I didn't mean I was bringing you one to wear... I meant I was going to bring a catchy shirt for your use... See, it says right here, that this shirt is your last chance. Last chance for what? The last chance for you to get one over on me. See, I gotta take the shirt off. While I am, my guard is going to be down... If you're smart, you'll take advantage of that. If you're not, then you're dead. I don't think you're that smart. Here goes... [Claw begins taking off the shirt by pulling it over his head... And stands there... El Hijo doesn't do anything. He simply watches and waits. Tiger Claw looks visibly annoyed as he removes the T-shirt.] TD: And El Hijo playing it cautious to begin the match. SR: Doesn't he know he's supposed to fall for the bait?! [Tiger Claw and El Hijo advance to lock up and Tiger Claw uses his T-shirt to start snapping it in El Hijo's face like he's in high school gym class. El Hijo is too busy trying to protect his eyes to avoid a boot to the midsection and a headlock takedown to the mat.] TD: Tiger Claw getting the quick advantage here! And that t-shirt business... was that what he had planned all along? SR: Ah, I still think if El Hijo had stuck to the script it would have been better. [Tiger Claw holds El Hijo down on the mat, grinding out the headlock and then moving around to scissor the body, but El Hijo scoots around, slips free, leaps to his feet... leaps and DROPKICKS the sitting Tiger Claw right in the chest, sending him skidding across the mat into the corner. Tiger Claw blinks in surprise. He pounds the mat, getting to his feet. His dander is up and he's cursing out El Hijo Del Satanico now. The crowd is beginning to pop in surprise.] SR: All right, so maybe the Tiger's breakfast still has a little kick to it, but that's just going to make the kill all the better. TD: Tiger Claw certainly seems to be taken aback by this aggressiveness of El Hijo's. I think he might have taken him too lightly. [Tiger Claw rushes in and starts using kicks to the shins to make El Hijo hop like a rabbit as he bounces around the ring, getting stiff Muy Thai kicks to the back of the thigh, the shins and a boot to the gut that bends him over. A dizzyingly fast snap kick straightens up El Hijo and a superkick sends him crashing upside down into the corner. Tiger Claw rushes in to finish him, but El Hijo handsprings out, taking Tiger Claw down with a flying reverse headscissors that somehow allows him to end up sitting on Claw's chest with the leg grapevined. The ref slides into position: 1 -- 2 -- Tiger Claw gets the shoulder up. El Hijo immediately spins it around into a legbar, cinching in the hold and locking up Claw's other leg in a scissors grip.] SR: What the hell?! This is a ten minute time limit! Dross, get on your earpiece and tell that stupid ref to tell 'em... NO RESTHOLDS! We want blood! TD: I have no idea what you're talking about, Steve. Tiger Claw has certainly been surprised by this early attack by El Hijo Del Satanico. He was expecting some sort of jumping jack. SR: Dammit! That's what these Mexicans are supposed to do! Doesn't he read the manuals? Mexicans are jumping beans. Blacks dance and headbutt everybody... Japanese do a whole bunch of weird contortions and the White folks just punch and kick each other! There are rules to this, you know! TD: Soundbite, please. Try to be a little politically correct sometimes. SR: I tried being politically correct once, Dross. TD: How'd that turn out? SR: Worst weekend of my life, Dross. TD: Ah, new material, Steve? SR: New writer. TD: What? [In the ring, Tiger Claw breaks free of the leg scissors and has successfully turned the legbar into a half crab. He twirls around and starts stomping El Hijo in the back, yelling at him to stay down. El Hijo complies, reaching back behind him and snatching Tiger Claw's leg from behind him. He pulls Tiger Claw up to his foot by that leg, clearly getting set to do something cool.] SR: Bad move. TD: Huh? SR: This just screams reversal! [On cue, Tiger Claw twists in the air, hitting El Hijo with a neat-looking kick that looks like an enzuigiri, but modified in a way that you'd have to press rewind on your VCR to really see. The crowd nonetheless, recognising it was different, pops.] SR: I know that was an enzuigiri, but I've never seen one quite like that. TD: I think that was Tiger Claw's spinning scissor Enzuigiri. SR: You mean the.... TD: Miasinawok kick is what he calls it. It comes from Muy Thai philosophy, I think. SR: Miasinawok? I think I had their spicy chicken once, Dross. TD: How'd it turn out? SR: You don't even want to know. My plumbin' bill was huge, though. [Claw has moved back on the offensive now. Picking up, El Hijo, he locks him up in the T-bone and drops him right on the neck with an Exploder suplex. The crowd bursts into a chant of "Taz! Taz! Taz!" Tiger Claw doesn't waste any more time. He goes right back to work, setting up El Hijo and hits a beautifully executed backdrop driver, rolling on top of El Hijo for the pin: 1 -- 2 -- no! El Hijo slithers out, barely getting his shoulder up. Tiger Claw whips El Hijo chest first into the buckle, avalanching him as he rebounds out. He hooks up a waistlock and delivers _another_ neck crunching backdrop driver. The crowd lets out a collective "ooh" of pain in sympathy for El Hijo. As Tiger Claw goes for a pick up, though, El Hijo goes limp and then rolls up Tiger Claw for a two count.] TD: And El Hijo not giving in here despite Tiger Claw's best efforts to kill him! And we're fast approaching the end of this time limit. I wonder if both wrestlers are aware of the time? SR: I don't care. The action is finally starting to get nasty. That's what I like to see. None of this mat stuff. [Claw yanks up El Hijo by his mask and throws him back to the corner. As he charges in again though he is met flush on the jaw by a uraken spinning backfist. He stumbles to the mat, dazed. El Hijo jumps up on the second rope and backflips over Tiger Claw. As Claw gets to his feet he is suddenly hitting the mat hard, the air "whoof"ing from his lungs as he El Hijo Del Satanico sweeps the legs out from under him. El Hijo starts to work the crowd who amazingly respond with cheers. El Hijo draws energy from the cheers like only a luchador can and whips Tiger Claw to the ropes, following close behind. He catches him around the neck as he bounces off and plants him with a SPRINGBOARD DDT! Instead of going for the cover, though, El Hijo starts firing off rapid fire Muy Thai kicks and sends Tiger Claw through the ropes with a nasty dropkick to the jaw!] TD: And listen to this crowd! They're chanting El Hijo's name! Amazing fortitude by this youngster! And what's he doing now? SR: It better be cool! Because Tiger Claw's going to get pissed for this! [On the outside, Tiger Claw is indeed kicking anything smaller than his boot around ringside. His anger, however, blinds him to El Hijo leaping over the ropes for a spinning corkscrew plancha that pastes both of them against the guardrail. The crowd is giving a huge pop now. Both wrestlers are down and hurt, but Tiger Claw seemed to get the better of it. He picks up El Hijo and drops him neckfirst across the railing. The ref's count is up to four now.] SR: Go get him, Tiger! This is what we need to see! Violence! Violence and more violence! [As the two wrestlers battle on the floor a wrestler in a flame-patterned body suit and mask sneaks down to ringside.] SR: Who the hell thinks they are being inconspicuous in that getup? TD: That's Juventil Infeirno from the CLL! He's had a long-standing feud with El Hijo from what I understand! [El Hijo gets the upper hand on Tiger Claw and rolls him into the ring. Just then Juventil rushes him, but using some sense that hasn't been numbered yet, El Hijo leaps backwards and pastes him with a standing moonsault! Big crowd pop.] TD: A sight better than your Asai, I should think. SR: Ha, where was the style? Where was the style? [El Hijo immediately gets into the ring where Tiger Claw charges him. El Hijo leaps up and ranas him over, but Tiger Claw rolls through it into a pin of his own. 1 -- 2 -- Juventil runs in and grabs El Hijo's foot -- 3! Ding! Ding! Ding!] SR: Yes! Justice has been served! Tiger Claw wins! Get these Mexican upstarts out of the ring! SL: Ladies and gentlemen... your winner... in a time of nine minutes fifteen seconds... TIGER CLAW! Crowd: YOU SOLD OUT! YOU SOLD OUT! YOU SOLD OUT! [Tiger Claw grabs his T-shirt from the corner and turns it inside out, throwing it on El Hijo. It says: "I got beaten up by Tiger Claw and all I got was this lousy t-shirt." He storms out of the ring, cursing. El Hijo rolls to his feet, rushing at Juvenil. Juvenil lets loose a burst of flame from his mask, dropping El Hijo. HUGE crowd pop!] SR: That's why you shouldn't eat Mexican food, folks. It repeats on you like a muhfuh! [Juvenil grabs a microphone from the announcer's table and jumps up onto the apron and over the top rope, into the ring. He paces around for a moment and then stops in the centre of the ring as he begins to speak.] JI: [in a thick Spanish accent, speaking in very poor English] My name is Juvenil Infeirno and first of all, I want to apologise to Mr. Hernandez. This isn't against the CLLL in any way, in fact, I'm helping its reputation by doing this tonight. I have nothing but respect for the CLLL and you, Mr. Hernandez, but having this man to represent your great organisation was a mistake from the beginning. I am not saying that I should have been the choice, but what I am saying is that out of your very talented roster, you could have picked _anyone_ to show more honour and courage than this sorry excuse for a Luchador! This man is a disgrace to your organisation and I could not stand by and just watch as he ruined your credibility. I know that this isn't a very honourable way to act, but when something that matters this much to you is on the line in one tournament, you can't help but act on it and do what needs to be done. El Hijo Del Satanico, if you have anything against what I've done here tonight, you can take it up with me in the CLLL. I'm always going to be there and it isn't hard to find me. To everyone watching back in my hometown of Guatalahara, Mexico, I hope you all understand why I have done this, because it's all for the love of Lucha Libre and I won't allow some rudo like you, Satanico, to deface the reputation of Mr. Hernandez and his organisation. I hope I meet you in the second round of _our_ tournament, Satanico. Until then... amonestar el infeirno de mis quemadura! [Juvenil drops the microphone and leaps up onto the top rope, shooting out a huge flame from his mouth as receives a large pop from the crowd.] SR: What'd he say? TD: I think it was "Remember the burn of my inferno!" SR: Oh, I had inferno burn once. Damn, that was the second worst weekend of my life. [Infeirno stands on the top turnbuckle and pumps his fists to the crowd -- and is then knocked clean off the top buckle and all the way down to the floor by an impressive standing dropkick from El Hijo Del Satanico in the ring! Huge pop as Infeirno plunges some twelve feet to the arena floor!] TD: Oh my! Out of nowhere! Out of nowhere, El Hijo Del Satanico is back on his feet... and what a dropkick! Infeirno must be seriously hurt! SR: The son of Satan is gonna fly, Dross! [Satanico picks himself up from the canvas, and nimbly climbs to the top turnbuckle. He adjusts his singed mask, and then performs a most breathtaking move: he looks down at Infeirno on the floor, bounces on the turnbuckle, turning so that he faces into the ring, and then launches himself backwards, arcing his back as he twists in the air, flying downward towards Infeirno, cameras flashing all over the arena... and he connects with devastating impact! Huge, huge pop!] TD: Oh my! Oh my! Phoenix Press to the outside! Satanico just hit the Phoenix Press -- a four-fifty twisting splash -- all the way to the outside! Oh my! SR: Holy smoke, Dross! Are those guys still alive?! [The fans, stunned into silence by the lack of movement from the two luchadors as they lie outside the ring, erupt once more as the two men slowly pick themselves up and begin to slug it out! Security staff pour down the aisle to pull the two Mexicans apart, and haul them both back to the locker rooms. The fans applaud wildly as they depart. Cut back to the broadcast table at ringside.] TD: Well, Steve Roberts, we have our first name in the second round! Tiger Claw is through to the second round of the King of the Cruisers tournament, and he will face the winner of tomorrow night's match between the Kabuki Kid and the "Iconoclast" Sean Watts, set to take place in Osaka, Japan. But perhaps the real story here is the arrival of one Juventil Infeirno, who may very well have cost El Hijo Del Satanico the chance to win this match -- and certainly Satanico didn't take too kindly to the interference. SR: That was wild, wild stuff, baby dolls. But make no mistake, the Soundbite pick to win it all is Tiger Claw. He's going all the way, Dross. TD: That remains to be seen, Steve Roberts. But one man who always takes it all the way, and then some, is our very own Steve Manning... SR: Wait a second, Dross: this is the guy who pisses on national TV, who is branded the most despicable athlete in IIWF history, and now you're all buddy-buddy with him? TD: Absolutely not, Steve Roberts. Manning is a deplorable individual, but, uh... SR: But he's Double Eye grade wrestler, not some bush league hick? TD: Not exactly. Manning's opponent here tonight in this second first round match is the UEW's "Real Deal" Shawn Harrison. I've seen a few tapes of this young man, and he is a flamboyant, impressive grappler. This should be quite the spirited battle. Let's get back up to the ring. SR: I'm tellin' ya, Drossie, it's a travesty that The Smooth wasn't allowed to participate... ________ ______ | || |\ \ /\ / /| __|.................................................. | || | \ v v / | __| KING OF THE CRUISERS TOURNAMENT FIRST ROUND: |_||_| \_/\_/ |_| Steve Manning [IIWF] vs. Shawn Harrison [UEW] ....................................................................... WRITER: Jason Lake [Sparkplug Lee enters the ring and clears his throat.] SL: Ladies and... [Suddenly, an extremely top-heavy blonde with a T-shirt that reads "Monty's Showroom Pub" runs into the ring, gives Sparkplug a big smooch that leaves a giant lipstick mark on his face, and slips back out of the ring and up the aisle. The crowd goes nuts while Sparkplug blushes and checks to make sure that his blazer is long enough to conceal his excitement.] SR: Holy bountiful pontoons! So _that's_ what happened to Madusa Miceli... SL: Um... er... ladies and gentlemen, this next bout is scheduled for one fall with a ten minute tit limit. [Major crowd laughter!] SL: TIME limit! Um... coming down the aisle, from Venice Beach, CA, and weighing in at "230 pounds of real steel and sex appeal"... representing the UEW, here is... [Strobe lights start flashing as "Killing in the Name of" by Rage Against the Machine plays over the loudspeaker.] SL: ...the "Real Deal"... Shaaaawwn HARRisonnnnn!!! SR: Hey, listen to that music! I wonder whether this guy has just come down from New York. TD: Um... no. [The relative unknown makes his appearance to a medium pop, but the female contingent begins to pick up speed as they catch a glimpse of the "Real Deal". Harrison fixes his short-cut black hair to make sure that it's in its proper form. His tan and chiselled body is soaked in oil. He wears an orange vinyl vest, which reads "Showstopper" on the back, orange vinyl pants with "R" written on one butt cheek and "D" written on the other. Black stripes go down the length of his pants and black boots are laced up all the way. Around his wrists are black medical tape.] TD: The UEW's version of the "Real Deal" is here, and the ladies are going nuts! SR: Well, this guy better have more moves than the "Full Meal Deal" Luke Steele, or else Manning's gonna turn him into an orange vinyl smear on the mat. [Harrison steps into the ring, flexes for a little bit and then calls for the ring attendant to come over and take his vest off. A huge smile builds on his face as he gyrates while they remove the vest. The attendant leaves, and Harrison lays across the toe ropes in the corner, waiting for Manning.] SR: Hey, Dross, any longer and we would have gotten to the part where the band starts singing "F... TD: STEVE! This is still a PG-14 broadcast... SL: And his opponent... from Phoenix, AZ, and weighing in at 230 pounds... representing _YOUR_ IIWF... [Crowd pop!] SL: ...here is "Sanguinary" SteeeeEEEEVE MANNing!!! [Metallica's "The Frayed Ends of Sanity" hits the speakers as the sanguine one appears at the top of the ramp to a chorus of boos. Today, he's wearing a black T-shirt reading "Tommy Lightning Fears Steve Manning". Manning seems to be walking cautiously and slow, as he still swipes at the fans, minus of course his small but loyal group of Sangui-Knights, who once again are trying to create a riot with the Sychopaths.] TD: Steve Manning might be representing the hometown federation, but he's no fan favourite! SR: Aw, Dross, who cares what these plebes think? I keep tellin' ya, this Manning is one fudged up little cracker. I like him. [Manning climbs through the ropes and into the ring, and immediately, referee Gaston Gingras begins to frisk Manning as Harrison looks on in bemusement. In no time flat, Gingras has found the following items: brass knuckles, what appears to be a rock wrapped in paper with "FOREIGN OBJECT" written on it, a toothbrush, a bottle opener, an electric razor, and a copy of the Pamela Lee/Tommy Lee XXX video. Manning shrugs and acts dumbfounded as to how all that got in his tights, kneepads and shirt. Gingras merely reprimands him, while Harrison seems like he's wondering what he's gotten himself into.] SR: Hey, Gingras! Take that tape to the boys in the truck and have them put it on the videotron! TD: Steve! Save it for later, we've got work to do here! SR: Geez, Dross, you're no fun. Look, after the show, we'll go rent "Babewatch Heat", we'll call "Emmanuelle's Escorts" and order some Mexican... you like Mexican, don't you? TD: STEVE! [Thankfully, the bell rings, and right away, after a collar-and-elbow tie-up, it's Manning with a go-behind, reversed by Harrison. Manning tries to throw a back elbow, but Harrison keeps his head out of the way. Manning goes for a leg trip, Harrison falls, Manning with a toe-hold, but Harrison puts a foot on Manning's chest and kicks out. Both men kip up at the same time and stare each other down. The crowd applauds.] TD: We're surely going to see a display of wrestling that only the Cruisers can provide! SR: Yeah, as long as they put on a bunch of psycho quadruple-twisting butt-plier planchas, Poppa's a happy camper. But they're still a sideshow. Kowalski has chunks of guys like this in his stool. [Once again, they hook up. This time, it's Manning with an overhead wristlock, pushing Harrison into the ropes. Referee Gingras gets in between the two to force a break, and Harrison pokes Manning in the eyes.] GG: Eh, did you poke Manneeng in de eyes, dere? SH: [playing innocent] No-oh! [Harrison kicks Manning in the gut, doubling him over. Harrison off the ropes with a flying kneelift, sending Manning down to the mat. Harrison picks him up, tries an Irish whip, but Manning reverses it. Harrison comes off the ropes, Manning drops down on his front. Harrison off the ropes again, Manning drops down on his back. Harrison off the ropes again, Manning goes for a hiptoss. Harrison blocks, puts his inside leg on Manning's shoulder, flips over backwards and hiptosses Manning, who crashes to the mat. The crowd applauds again as Manning gets up with an irritated look on his face.] TD: So far, it's the "Real Deal" showing his stuff! [While Harrison does a strut on one side of the ring, Manning grabs the referee and does the universal signal for "He pulled my hair!", then does the signal for "He pulled my tights!" The fans boo, while Referee Gingras goes over to Harrison.] GG: Eh, 'Arrison, did you pull 'is 'air an' 'is tights, dere? [Harrison gestures to the crowd as if to ask "Did I?", and the crowd responds, "NO!"] SR: Cripes, Dross, someone get this ref some glasses. And a Joe Louis and a Pepsi, while yer at it. [The two lock up again, but this time, Manning backs away and slides out under the bottom rope, grabs the microphone, and says...] SM: I'll show you fans what a cruiserweight match is all about! [Manning promptly re-enters the ring, gouges Harrison in the eyes, tackles him to the mat, and applies a reverse chinlock.] TD: Well, it looks like Manning wants to slow things down a bit. But he'll have to realise that there's only a ten-minute time limit, and we've already hit the two-minute mark. SR: Hey, nothin' wrong with a little "old school" now and again, Dross. [Manning maintains the chinlock. The crowd buzz begins to die down as they wait in anticipation.] TD: Manning, really grinding down on that chinlock. Referee Gaston Gingras is right there, checking to see if it's a choke. That forearm is on the chin of Harrison, though. [Manning maintains the chinlock.] TD: Folks, this is just the first round of what promises to be an incredibly exciting tournament! We have already seen El Hijo del Satanico and Tiger Claw go at it... [Manning maintains the chinlock.] TD ...the other first-round match-ups are being fought in Japan at the SJPW show... [Manning maintains the chinlock. The crowd is starting to get really cheesed off now as chants of "BO-RING!" start up.] TD: Anything you'd like to add, Steve? Steve? [The gentle snoring of Steve Roberts is audible.] TD: STEVE! SR: [waking up] Huh? What? Lincoln's bedroom? Okay, but you tell those Secret Service guys not to service me, or... oh, it's you. Is it over yet? [Manning maintains the chinlock.] SR: Aw, Geez Laweez, Dross, lemme run in there and DQ somebody. I'll do the Asai Moonsault and everything. Please? SL: Five minutes gone, there are five minutes remaining in this match! [The fans start screaming at manning to get on with it, but he just screams profanities at them and continues to grind down with the chinlock. Suddenly, someone in the crowd hits Manning squarely in the head with a cup of Mooselips beer. Manning jumps up and screams lividly at the crowd, the hold is broken, and the crowd cheers wildly.] TD: Well, this isn't exactly the all-out aerial assault we were expecting, Steve! SR: Yeah, I can see Spreads right now blowing a gasket in the back. He's seein' dollar bills with little wings on them, flyin' away... [While Manning's back is turned, Harrison clobbers him with a Russian sickle to the back of the head. The crowd pops! Harrison with an Irish whip into a textbook dropkick right on the jaw of Manning.] SR: Ouch, baby dolls! That'll leave a mark on "Sanctuary" Steve Manning. TD: That's "Sanguinary", Soundbite. SR: Whatever. [With Manning supine on the mat, Harrison climbs to the top turnbuckle and delivers a guillotine legdrop. Big crowd pop as they finally get a taste of the high-flying stuff. Harrison eats up the adulation. Harrison picks up Manning, Irish whips him into the corner, and plants him with another dropkick. Manning slumps in the corner. Harrison tries a monkey flip, but Manning holds the ropes, and Harrison crashes down on the back of his neck.] TD: Harrison hits the deck hard! SR: Like they say, baby dolls, never do a move that puts you on your back. Unless, of course, your opponent is Naomi Campbell, and it's a special "Hide the Salami" match. [Manning shakes the cobwebs and starts to climb the turnbuckles on the inside of the ring. He gets to the top just as Harrison staggers to his feet, and...] TD: He's going for a patented moonsault! [...but, instead of a moonsault press, Manning backflips completely over Harrison, lands behind him, and applies a sleeperhold.] TD: Um... well, that's different. SR: Ah, yes, the Moonsleeper. A favourite move of Benny and Billy McGuire, I believe. [Manning cackles insanely as the crowd immediately gets on his case for applying yet another "resthold". But Harrison lashes out with a mule kick to the groin, and Manning's face contorts as if he's just chugged a bottle of lemon juice. The crowd winces audibly.] SR: Yoicks! Me plums! TD: Ladies and gentlemen, the master of the obscure reference, "Soundbite" Steve Roberts. SR: Shank you very much. SL: Seven minutes gone, three minutes remaining in this match! [In a heartbeat, Harrison is on the top turnbuckle, delivering a beautiful springboard moonsault. Big crowd pop! Harrison tries the cover, but only gets a two-count. Harrison with a bodyslam in the corner, again climbs the ropes, and goes for...] TD: SHOOTING STAR PRESS! SR: But Manning got the knees up! Damn, now we're cookin' with gas, baby dolls! [Manning gets up, foggy, but manages to drag Harrison outside the ring. Manning plants Harrison's head into the railing, then brings him over to the French announcers' table, and bodyslams him on top of it.] French Announcer: Câlisse! Allez-y! [The two French announcers bolt as Manning climbs to the top rope.] TD: Our French colleagues, Bernie Parent and André "Moose" DuPont, have just evacuated! It looks like Manning is going all-out! [Harrison instinctively rolls off the table. Manning check over his shoulder, sees that Harrison has moved, shrugs his shoulders, and...] TD: MOONSAULT! Manning moonsaulted onto the empty table. On _purpose_! SR: Jesus Rollerskatin' Christ! [Manning is lying within the splintered wreckage of what used to be the French announcers' table, with upturned monitors and microphone cables spilt all around him. Harrison stares slack-jawed at the fallen Manning, who begins to cackle again, then coughs as he tries to revive himself and rejoin the fight.] SR: Crazy sunuvabitch. Kee-razy. [The Sangui-Knights chant "He's Hardcore! He's Hardcore!" as Manning slowly rises to his feet, grinning. Harrison, perhaps drawn to desperation by this show of insanity, grabs some camera cable and wraps it around Manning's neck, but the choking only seems to revive Manning more quickly. Harrison tosses Manning back into the ring and follows him in, but it's Manning with a boot to the head.] TD: An amazing show of stamina! SR: Yep, this "Santa Clara" Steve Manning is good to go, Dross-man! TD: That's "Sanguinary", Soundbite. SR: Whatever. [Manning drags Harrison into the centre of the ring, reaches down, and grabs him by the nose, then starts turning around in circles.] TD: Um... SR: You got a name for that, Encyclopaedia Guy? TD: Um... SASKATCHEWAN SPINNING NOSE HOLD! SR: Ladies and gentlemen, Tim Dross. TD: Spank you very much. SL: Eight minutes gone, two minutes left in this match! [With that announcement, Manning does his best Jekyll-and-Hyde impersonation and begins to focus on the task at hand. Manning acquires a front facelock, grabs the trunks of Harrison, and delivers a nasty jumping DDT. An Irish whip into the corner, followed in by a somersault wheel kick that catches Harrison right on the chin. Manning sets Harrison up on the top turnbuckle, climbs the second rope, and nails a snap superplex, floats over for the lateral press... and gets a two-count. Crowd pop!] TD: Manning, pulling out all the stops now as we near the time limit! [Manning bounces off the ropes, and kicks Harrison in the gut. The Sangui-knights pop as they anticipate the infamous Master Blaster, but Harrison reverses it by grabbing Manning with a waistlock and rolling him up. Harrison grabs the trunks...] TD: One... two... thr... two-and-a-half! [Manning kicks out, and levels Harrison with a clothesline as both men get up at the same time.] SL: Nine minutes gone, one minute remaining in this match! [The crowd reaches a fever pitch as the action gets hot and heavy. Manning picks Harrison up, but Harrison with a small package. Two count. Harrison with a Mexican roll-up... two-and-a-half. Harrison drops an elbow, lands some short fists to Manning's forehead, then picks him up and drives him into the corner. Harrison goes for a running bulldog, but Manning pushes him away. Harrison lands hard.] SL: Thirty seconds remaining! [Manning with a baseball-slide dropkick to the back of Harrison's neck, then wraps him up in an El Majistral!] TD: One... two... he got him! No, he didn't! Harrison kicked out at two-and-seven-eighths! SR: Whoo!! Look at "Sangy Spread" Steve Manning go! TD: That's... oh, never mind. SL: Fifteen seconds! [Manning goes for a suplex, but Harrison with an inside cradle!] TD: One! Two... Wait! [Manning reverses!] SL: Ten seconds! [While the crowd counts down the time along with Sparkplug Lee, Referee Gaston Gingras counts two, but Harrison reverses! Another two count! Manning reverses, and Gingras's hand hits the mat in unison with the crowd's chant -- "TWO!" -- the ref hits the mat once -- "ONE!" -- the ref's hand goes down a second time -- "ZERO!" -- the three count, and the bell rings at the same time as the referee's hand hits the mat.] TD: Time has run out! It's a draw! SR: Not so fast, Dross-man... [Referee Gingras goes over to the timekeeper's table and confers with the timekeeper and with Sparkplug Lee, who makes the announcement.] SL: Ladies and Gentlemen... the winner, at 9 minutes and 59 seconds... "Sanguinary" SteeeeeeeeEEEEEve MANNing!!! [Major crowd heat as Manning beings to celebrate, while Harrison argues with Gingras, but to no avail. Gingras raises the hand of the victorious Manning, who takes off down the aisle and slaps hands with the Sangui-knights. A distraught Harrison shakes his head, but acknowledges the cheers of the fans and departs.] TD: Well, Harrison lost a close one, but he's won some fans here in the IIWF! SR: I dunno, Dross, I think he might have gotten gypped by the home-court advantage, but a win's a win. Manning moves on! TD: Folks, we saw that big altercation between Gunnar "Grizzly" Gaines and Joe Petrow earlier tonight after the revelation that Gaines' young son, Justin Lawrence Gaines, whom we believed to have died from food poisoning, was in fact alive and well. I understand that Becky LaRue is backstage with the Gaines family. Becky? [Becky LaRue is back in the locker room area, standing next to Gunnar and Cheryl Gaines.] BL: Tim and Steve, I'm back here in the locker room area with Gunnar Gaines... [She shoots the briefest of sneers at Cheryl...] ...and his wife, Cheryl. Gunnar, I'm wondering... you were in an altercation earlier with Joe Petrow following your interview. And I understand you have a challenge? GGG: Joe Petrow... Neurosys or whatever you are... I take it you didn't like what I said earlier. You didn't like me playing mind games with the Meatman because they hit too close to home. Now you're stuck with that worthless tag team partner of yours, so I tell ya what I'm gonna do. I'll get a tag team partner of my own and take both of you next Saturday night. I think I know just the man. I'll tell you who he is... tomorrow. And then you'll be wondering how the HELL you can get around... The Baddest _Thangs_ Running! [Thumb to himself.] Beat _US_ -- if you can! [Gaines puts an arm around Cheryl and ushers her out of the shot. Becky turns back to face the camera.] BL: Very succinct comments from Gunnar Gaines. Back to you, Tim and Steve. [Cut back to the broadcast table at ringside.] TD: Thanks, Becky. We have a challenge laid down for next week's show, folks! Gunnar "Grizzly" Gaines and a partner of his own choice against the IIWF World Tag Team Champions, "Sychosys" Joe Petrow and "Mr. Majestyk" Maurice McArthur. We'll have to wait to hear Joe Petrow's reaction to this challenge... but what a match that would be! What an exciting evening we've had tonight, along with a few big surprises! And I'm told that's just the beginning as IIWF management has a few more up their collective sleeves. And now, we have what I expect to be a complete joke of an IIWF Cruiserweight Title match. I can't believe President Spreadbury is allowing this to happen. Jacks shouldn't even be here. SR: Stipulations are stipulations, Dross. Eddy Jacks won that match, and now it's up to Spreadbutter to live up to HIS end of the deal! And if not, I can assure you they'd be spreading butter ALL OVER Spreadbutter -- because Jacks would get pissed off and hit him with the Pancake Poison! TD: Dan Spreadbury is NOT one to be intimid... [Crowd pop, as necks crane to watch the aisle entrance] TD: Hold on! Hold the phones! Looks like we have an unscheduled appearance taking shape here. It's Bear of the Natural Predators, and he's on his way down to the ring! [Indeed. Bear hits ringside, rolls into the ring, stands, and secures a cordless mic.] B: How you doing, PORTLAND? [Huge cheers!] Well, what do we have to show for ourselves tonight? Let me hear what you have to say about the Discordiacs! [Big pop from the fans, remembering the display of Richard "Moxy" Blue earlier in the evening!] And what you have to say about Team Sychosys! [A big pop, mixed jeers and cheers... the loudest of which comes from the Sychopaths, who begin to shower the ring with rubbish, a full cup of soda hitting Bear upside the head.] And what about FOUR D? [Loud cheers from most of the crowd, Sycopath fans and Discordiac fans booing] Right! Now... as we all know elementary math... with the possible exception of Sycho Joe... 4-D is made of four men... The Natural Predators... Edmund Fitzgerald... and the Party Maniac... [Chant of "Mar-ty! Mar-ty!" begins] ...but you know... 4-D has friends too. People that, while not members, sorry to interrupt your roleplaying by taking away your 6 sided D, Joe... [Sychopaths boo even louder] ...we do have a few people who we consider allies. And friends. One of whom is Josef "The Cavalier" Tadeuscz. [European cheer!] Now, Josef was very happy to come to the Double Eye, but he's been given a leave of absence for something a lot better. [Confused pop.] He's just gotten married. And if you even think of saying anything snide or derogatory, Roberts, I will drag your sorry ass into this ring and everyone out there can add "Bleed, Soundbite, bleed!" into their chant lists. Give it up for Josef! [Polite applause from the crowd.] And an ally... Icehawk... [Big pop at the mention of the Cruiserweight Champion!] ...defends his title against Eddy "Flab" Jacks next. Flubber, I promise you this. You got your match, fine. I won't interfere. But fat man? Remember that I am the IIWF strongman. And after this match, you got a special challenge. One on one, you and me. [Throws down the mic, doing the 4-D symbol, and leaves the ring.] TD: Looks like Bear's going to stick around and watch this one. SR: Really? I wasn't sure he could "bear" to watch Icehole get completely humiliated! TD: Ladies and gentlemen... Steve Roberts! ________ ______ | || |\ \ /\ / /| __|.................................................. | || | \ v v / | __| IIWF CRUISERWEIGHT CHAMPIONSHIP MATCH: |_||_| \_/\_/ |_| Icehawk [c] vs. Eddy "Flap" Jacks ....................................................................... WRITER: Curt Kipp [And then, Sparkplug Lee climbs the ring steps -- without even tripping -- and enters the ring. He bends over to pick up the microphone and is nailed square in the butt with a flying two-litre empty plastic pop bottle. He turns around, glares as threateningly as he can into the audience, then straightens up to announce the match.] SL: This next match is scheduled for one fall, no time limit, and it will be for the IIWF Cruiserweight Championship of the World! [The crowd cheers!] SL: Introducing first, the challenger... ["Dance of the Sugar-Plum Fairy" by Tchaikovsky plays over the speakers...] SL: He earned the right to challenge for ANY belt by being the winner of King of the Mountain at Ring Wars Five, and he elected to challenge for this one! He hails from Ottawa, Ontario, standing 6 feet 1 inch tall and weighing in tonight at 398 pounds, making him the LARGEST cruiserweight challenger EVER! Here is... EDDY "FLAP" JAAAAAAAAAAAAAACKS! [Lots of booing as the massive bearded man, with the shaved head, steps out into the aisle.] TD: This... this is a complete travesty, Steve Roberts. Why... at 398 pounds, you could fit TWO cruiserweights into his skin. This man is nearly DOUBLE Icehawk's weight! SR: Two cruiserweights inside his skin? That's nothing. I hear Becky LaRue's done that before _many_ a time. TD: That's enough. [Jacks reaches the ring. He has his scraggly beard braided tonight, and is wearing the usual crimson singlet with the word "RESPECT" across the middle and the words "HOP" and "JACKS" down either leg.] TD: That's not flab on Jacks either. That's 398 pounds of muscle, mostly. SR: I wonder if Osterhout has ever had him widdle in a cup? They _said_ there were some people who were reluctant to comply. Me... I give them a cup every single day! That paper cup makes a cool sound when you... TD: Please stop, Steve Roberts. Now, you'll remember that Jacks _won_ that King of the Mountain match by default because Ike Sampson tested positive for steroids. Wouldn't that be ironic if Jacks turned out to be a steroid monkey too? But I don't think so. Jacks has ALWAYS been huge. He's just more toned now, due to hard work in the weight room. You can never be sure, but I don't think he's on the juice. SR: Juice or no juice, Icehole's gonna get killed. Simply murdered. [Eddy's music stops.] SL: And his opponent... ["Olympic Fanfare" plays...] SL: He hails from Oulo, Finland, standing five feet ten inches tall and weighing in tonight at 220 pounds. He is a former THREE-time IIWF Tag Team Champion of the World, and he is the CURRENT... IIWF Cruiserweight Champion of the World, with a victory at Ring Wars Five over "Enigma" Takezo Musashi! This is his FIRST Cruiserweight title defence! Here is... ICEHAWK! [Icehawk enters the aisle to a big babyface pop, wearing the IIWF Cruiserweight title.] SR: The bottom line is, Icehole here is just another gay guy who lost his partner. TD: He's not in a tag team partner. You can stop calling him a "gay guy" now. I know it's one of your ridiculous gimmicks, but... SR: Look at those extra-tight white tights he's wearing. They leave nothing to the "gay guy" imagination. And look at the way he prances about in the ring. I mean, come on, Dross. It doesn't take a rocket scientist... TD: No, it _doesn't_ take a rocket scientist. It takes Steve "Soundbite" Roberts, and that's about as far from a rocket scientist as one can get. SR: Au contraire, Dross! Why just the other night I had a young woman tell me it FELT like a rocket was blasting off between her legs! TD: Uh, Steve... SR: And another thing! This Olympic music reminds me... I once had a young woman tell me that if sex was an Olympic sport, I'd get a gold medal! TD: Please, Steve Roberts. [Icehawk finally enters the ring, having just shaken more hands than Bill Clinton at a campaign rally. He discards his blue cape and his mask with the blue Finnish cross on it, and climbs a corner to hold the belt aloft, receiving a huge pop in response.] TD: This crowd loves Icehawk. SR: I thought we were in Portland, not San Francisco... [Ding! Ding! Ding!] TD: Jacks charging the corner... Icehawk jumps off the second rope and over Jacks just in time to avoid a collision! Now a kick to the back! And another! IC: [audible sans mic] Hey, PANCAKE BOY! Come and get me! [Jacks charges but Icehawk ducks out of the way and hits a drop toe-hold.] IC: [standing, audible sans mic] You'll have to do better... PANCAKE BOY! TD: Oh my. Icehawk really tempting fate here. I don't think you want to make someone like Eddy Jacks angry. [Icehawk kicks Jacks while he's down, then backs away quickly as the big man starts to rise. Icehawk darts back in with a dropkick... but Jacks basically shrugs it off like it had next to no effect. Ice bounces back to his feet, darts in and slaps Jacks in the face, then runs to the outside. Jacks follows.] SR: This guy, Eddy "Flap" Jacks... his name reminds me of a card game. _Slap_ Jacks. TD: [innocently] Card game? I thought it was one of your sexual techniques. SR: Oooh, Dross is _feisty_ tonight! TD: Icehawk running around that ring, being chased by Jacks... and Jacks not coming _close_ to catching the little guy. You know, I think it may be Icehawk's strategy by tiring Jacks out. And he can't do that without getting under the big guy's skin. Otherwise, Jacks will play the waiting game, then smoosh him like a bug. SR: That'll happen anyway. Eddy's too smart for that. He's a ring veteran. Icehawk can't run forever. TD: That may be. It remains to be seen. Jacks back in the ring, realizing he won't be able to catch Icehawk for the moment... and Icehawk finally rolls in to break the count. A stomp by Jacks... but Ice rolls out of the way and back out of the ring. He grabs the leg of Jacks and jerks him down to the mat. Now he climbs the apron, slingshots himself into the ring... legdrop across the neck! [Icehawk stands, backing away as Jacks regains his feet. Icehawk shouts "Hey! Pancake Boy!" again, and Jacks charges. Icehawk steps aside at the last moment, then dropkicks Jacks in the back of the knee, taking him down. Jacks gets back up... and another dropkick to the knees.] TD: Ice, trying to take the wheels of the big man away... SR: At least he's not stupid enough to take Flap's breakfast away. That there's a death sentence if you try it. Jacks has _never_ missed a meal, I'd wager. TD: Jacks back up... this time, he _dodges_ a dropkick attempt from Icehawk. Jacks charges... clothesline missed! Icehawk ducked! Icehawk with a flying spin kick! SR: Jacks staggered a bit by that... _but not much_. TD: Jacks charges forward and _hits_ a clothesline on the 'Hawk! FINALLY he gets a hold of Icehawk! The little guy just _bounces_ off the mat... and he quickly rolls to the outside! Jacks, sensing the advantage, follows him! SR: It's like a cat and mouse game... and I like the cat's odds right now. [Icehawk runs, but he slips on the protective matting outside. Jacks catches up to him... ] TD: OUCH! Jacks with a _vicious_ forearm on Icehawk! Now he hooks him up... [Crowd pop!] POWER SLAM ON THE MAT! SR: Bring the street sweeper out here. We've got some roadkill. TD: Jacks picks up Icehawk and rolls him into the ring to break the count. SR: He could slide him under a door after that move. TD: This ain't the cartoon, Steve Roberts... [Jacks follows Icehawk into the ring, grabbing his leg and pulling him down to the mat. He slaps on a headlock and attempts to wear the Finn down by putting all his weight on him.] EJ: [audible without a mic] Pancake THIS! [Icehawk grimaces in pain as Jacks tightens the headlock. He starts to slump matward. Jacks keeps the pressure on... then finally lets up. He stands, throws Ice into the corner, and charges with a big clothesline!] TD: You know something, Steve Roberts? I have to give you some credit. You said earlier that Icehawk might not be able to run forever... and you were right. The big man has the smaller Finn trapped in the corner... right hook! Right hook! _European uppercut_! And another! And now a reverse knife-edge chop! SR: He's taking the kid apart like a Legoland space station, baby dolls! TD: Now he bends Icehawk over, in piledriver position... no, he lifts him overhead in a crucifix position! Icehawk struggling to break free, but he can't! And Eddy Jacks is just grinning, holding him there, making him wait for the inevitable... CRUCIFIX SLAM! Oh my! He just NAILS that over-the-shoulder powerbomb variant on Icehawk! What a DEVASTATING manoeuvre -- he didn't just _drop_ him, he DROVE him! SR: Notify that kid's next of kin. TD: _Arrogant_ cover -- one foot on the chest of Icehawk! [The referee looks sideways at Jacks for a moment, then shakes his head and drops to the canvas to make the count: 1 -- 2 -- Pop!] TD: NO! So close, but Icehawk manages to kick out. Thank God. Jacks gets up, looking a little tired, and now he has Icehawk in a big bear hug! SR: I think Jacks could have had him there, if he'd just covered with a lateral press and an outside cradle. TD: Yes, and what an outrage that would be. This is the _Cruiserweight_ title on the line here -- and Eddy Jacks is almost 400 pounds! This man is a former SUMO, for crying out loud! He's one of the largest, if not THE largest, men in the Double Eye! SR: Yeah, and he's about got Icehawk ready to submit here. It's hard for a little "gay guy" to overcome the offence that Jacks has got in his arsenal. TD: I'm inclined to agree. He could win it, right now, within seconds! That bear hug is a legitimate submission manoeuvre -- _particularly_ because Matt Keto has a bad back! But what a COMPLETE and UTTER disgrace it would be if it happened! It would make a mockery of the whole Cruiserweight division, just as we begin to launch King of the Cruisers! SR: Okay, okay, you've made your... [The crowd pops -- huge and strongly to the negative -- as they crane necks towards the entrance. Someone is coming out... ] TD: It's DEREK MOTA! He wasn't making any friends _earlier_ when he turned on Richard "Moxy" Blue and the Discordiacs... and I don't guess he's fixing to make any _here_, either! SR: That freak Little Boy Blue had it coming. And so does Icehole. With Mota here, it's _over_ for him. O-V-A-H, over. Kaput. _Finnish_ed, no pun intended. TD: Oh, brother. And Bear is up from his chair! Bear, having words with Derek Mota! SR: Geez, did Bear get up on the wrong side of his cave this morning? TD: I don't blame him one bit, Steve Roberts. He promised earlier to make sure this match ended fair and square! And back in the ring, Icehawk _continues_ to struggle against that big bear hug from Eddy Jacks. Finally, Jacks backs into the ropes... and then runs to the center of the ring and SLAMS Icehawk right down on his back! [At ringside, Mota motions to an empty chair and sits down. With Mota having apparently backed down, Bear returns to his own chair to watch the match.] TD: Jacks stands up and measures him... ELBOW DROP! And now another! And uh-oh... [Jacks nudges Icehawk with his big boot, rolling him towards a corner...] SR: Get out the Mrs. Butterworth's, it's time for a short stack! And Icehole is going to _regret_ that he _ever_ called Eddy "Pancake Boy." TD: Jacks going up to the first rope. He jumps... [Crowd pop!] TD: BIG SPLASH, but NOBODY HOME! Icehawk just _barely_ out of the way of that one! But no matter. Jacks quickly recovering, gets back on his feet, and... look out, Bear! [CRACK! Huge heel pop!] TD: OH MY! DEREK MOTA JUST BLINDSIDED BEAR WITH A FOLDING CHAIR! He just sneaked up on him! Bear _never_ saw it coming! And now Mota's up on the apron, holding that chair! He's yelling to Eddy Jacks! He's offering to finish off Icehawk with that chair! SR: And not a moment too soon. I'm tired of all these Cruiserweight champions who bounce around like epileptic superballs. I want a _man_ wearing that belt. TD: Jacks lifts Icehawk to his feet. Icehawk can barely stand after the beating he's been through. Jacks with the Irish whip towards that chair... [Crowd pop!] REVERSAL! OH MY! Icehawk somehow reversed the move, and Jacks went into that chair head first! Bear yanks Mota down from the apron! Referee lets it go! SR: I'm not sure _who_ you'd disqualify. Whose side is Derek Mota on, anyway? TD: I don't know, but that chair shot has _staggered_ Eddy Jacks! Icehawk back to his feet... DROPKICK! Jacks staggers... he's down! SR: Please, no... TD: Icehawk to the outside... and we know what we're going to see here -- that top rope somersault legdrop he calls the Arctic Blast. The only question is if it's going to hit the target. Icehawk up top now, standing up to his full height... Oh my! [Icehawk launches himself as cameras flash all over the arena. The young Finn flies through the air, executing his trademark somersault leg drop... and _connects_! The crowd gives a huge, huge pop as Icehawk hooks Jacks' leg... the official makes the count: 1 -- 2 -- 3! Ding! Ding! Ding! Sparkplug Lee, at ringside, raises the microphone once more:] SL: Ladies and gentlemen... your winner... [He takes a breath] ...and STILL the IIWF Cruiserweight Champion of the World... IIIIIIICCCCEHAWWWWWWKKK! [Major face pop! "Olympic Fanfare" plays on the speakers. Bear gets into the ring, and he raises the Cruiserweight champion, Icehawk, up on his shoulders!] TD: A huge celebration for Bear and Icehawk, as the 'Hawk has just pinned Eddy "Flap" Jacks to somehow retain the Cruiserweight gold against a huge 398-pound behemoth! OH MY! SR: Yeah... and that huge behemoth doesn't seem too happy with Derek Mota, either. [Jacks glares angrily and yells at Mota... and Mota turns and high-tails it out of there!] TD: Eddy Jacks taking off in pursuit of Derek Mota! And I would _not_ want to be Mota if Jacks catches him. SR: Yeah, but never mind that! Up next, we got the MAN, baby dolls! We've got Steve "The Fury" Kowalski! [Eddy Jacks pursues Derek Mota back up the aisle as Icehawk and Bear continue to celebrate in the ring. Eventually, Bear places Icehawk back on the canvas, and the two men leave the ring, Icehawk thrusting the Cruiserweight strap into the air as he heads up the aisle to the cheers of the crowd. Cut back to the broadcast table at ringside.] TD: Well, folks, we still have our main event coming your way -- that huge Intercontinental Championship Tournament battle royal is still to come... but before that, it's time to get comments from the IIWF World Heavyweight Champion himself, Steve "the Fury" Kowalski. If you'll excuse me, Steve Roberts. SR: For the Fury? Anything, Dross! Whoo-hoo! Fury in da house! [Tim Dross leaves the broadcast table and heads into the ring, grabbing a microphone as he goes. The crowd rumbles with delight when the music comes on..._His_ music! "Don't Fear The Reaper" breaks out and so do the maniacs. Fans rush to the security railing, jamming their way past the other paying customers to get a glimpse. They get as much as they can handle. There is a loud BOOM of pyrotechnics. When the smoke clears, reigning IIWF Heavyweight Champion Steve "The Fury" Kowalski is standing there! Basking in the glory of the cheers and screams, the New Jersey Nightmare plays up to the crowd. Wearing cut-off jean shorts, sneakers and black tee reading "IIWF: Damaged Goods Tour '98". Around his waist, the IIWF Heavyweight Championship belt. Noticeably, the champ walks with a slight limp, giving notice to his knee brace. He also has two butterfly bandages on his forehead and cheek. Never the less, Kowalski is enjoying himself and even slaps a few hands on the way down. Waiting patiently in the ring, Tim Dross sits on the second rope, allowing the Fury to climb through. Kowalski looks to walk over to Tim, but stops... instead pumping his fist in the air! Drawing another huge pop from the crowd. After a few moments, Kowalski makes his way over to Dross, allowing the commentator to speak.] TD: Here he is...Steve "The Fury" Kowalskiiiiii! [Another huge pop at the announcement!] Steve, barring your slight injuries, I would have to say you are looking quite chipper today. As we all know, you're the champ and successfully defended your title at the latest greatest pay per view, Ring Wars 5, against Shadoe Rage! And what a match it was! SK: Yer damn right! It was a helluva throwdown an' I was glad to come out on top! Rage's a tough customer, but yers truly came out smellin' like a rose! [POP!] TD: Yes you did. You have taken every opportunity to defend your belt, as well as some non-sanctioned non-IIWF action during the recent hiatus. It's quite evident that you have a bit of a limp there... the knee brace... the stitches. When are you going to slow down? You have never been asked to push the envelope on the schedule. Why are you continuing at this reckless pace? SK: What can I say? It's in my blood. I don't know when to quit. I push the envelope because I can. I push it because that's what a champ should do. I push it because... _Nobody_ can push back! [Huge Fury Pop!] When did it become a rule that I should become fat an' lazy?! Where is it written, that after I climb that hill to the top, I gotta stand aside for the next comer?! [BLEEP] that! I'm the Fury God[BLEEP]it! I step aside fer no man! Ain't no man in IIWF ready to knock me off the mountain! [Crowd goes wild!] TD: You speak the truth so far, Steve. But even you must admit to the toll this tour of duty has done to you. Concussions, breaks, torn cartilage... the list goes on and on. You are setting yourself up for a catastrophe. No man can last long on that kind of gruelling schedule. Someone will, at your weakest point... SK: Do what? Take me out?! They should... I would! But ain't no one able to do it yet. My body's short on blood but I gotta head o' steam that'd plough over anyone! TD: Steve, you have amassed a awesome record against the IIWF's superstars but many would say that that there is still a group of men that could vie for that belt. SK: Really now? Jus' who might they be? TD: Deathbringer, for one. [Good pop for the popular IIWF superstar!] SK: Ol' DB. Well, his act is gettin' a little stale, don'tcha think? His sorry ass Addams Family get-up is really weak. All he got left is memories of past victories. Got his mask back? Big [BLEEP]in' deal! [Fury Pop!] Still, he is a mean bastard... A real hardknock. An' I ain't never met up with him. I'd give him a go! [Pausing.] Result'd be the same. I'd knock his dead carcass six feet south. TD: What about the "Enigma" Takezo Musashi? The chaos-bringer himself has already crossed your path and looks to do so again. He is being touted as the only man wilder, more out of control than you. That is the type of individual that could do some major damage. SK: Mushi? Mushi is one of those guys that gave there all fer this fed an' it spit in his face. I can almost understand how that little rice-burner feels. Ya wanna lash out. Bring down the man. Stir up Spreadbury's [BLEEP]! Hey who doesn't?! He could'a played all of his little man games with the rest of the trash, but he should have never walked in my backyard! I'm gonna wrap his head 'round a pole when we lock up. An' we _will_ lock up. 'Cept ya won't be flyin' like a star... you'll be fallin' like one. He can't take it, but he's welcome to try! TD: What about the unvanquishable one? Serge... [A voice is blasted over the PA system interrupting Tim Dross.] SA: ...Annis! [The crowd whirl their attention to the head of the aisle where the 6'8 Epitome of Evil walks, with a cordless microphone in his hand. Annis ignores the crowd as he makes his way closer to the ring. Steve Kowalski stands in the ring, looking rather unimpressed, or at the very least, not amused, by Annis' intrusion. The crowd release a fairly large pop for Annis.] SA: The Epitome of Evil. [Annis makes it to the ring and starts to climb the steps.] SA: Your worst nightmare. [Annis walks along the apron and steps through the ropes into the ring. He immediately approaches Kowalski and gets right in his face.] SA: The next IIWF World champion. I'm not too sure if you've paid attention to me lately, Kowalski. You've been so busy busting your butt with Shadoe Rage and that exploding mine match, that you probably didn't see me put an end to Mad Dog Watkins at Ring Wars 5. [Unhappy pop from Dogs Of War] But truth be known, I've been following you around for a while now, Kowalski. I still have your number. I've beaten the same people you've been beating. Every time you and I have met, something's gone wrong and we are always screwed out of a good result. And that's all going to change, because I want one more shot. [Annis goes silent for a minute, and Kowalski opens his mouth to retort, but Annis cuts him off.] SA: But the thing is, Steve, I can't just get my shot like so many others have done. No... I have the IIWF committees and suits telling me that I have to earn another one. And let me tell you something, Steve. I won't be granted any title shots while I am on probation. So right now, I have one goal on my mind. That's the IIWF World Heavyweight Championship. But lucky for you, it's going to take me a little while to get it. SK: Junior, its taken ya yer whole friggin' life to get this far. Ya might as well go the distance. 'Til then ya oughtta shut yer mouth an' show me somethin'! Otherwise yer jus' 'nother bitch screamin' fer a [BLEEP]! [Annis stands with his hands on his hips and looks straight into the champion's eyes.] SA: You know, the old Serge Annis would hit you for that, if not snap your spine. But the fact is, I've changed. I talked about how it's time to change... but I wasn't quite sure into what. Well, I know who I am and what I am now. And that's the lethal protector! I never thought I'd be on the side of good... but I guess that's the way it goes in this world. And as long as you are around to make me look better Steve, then it'll only be a short while before you see me in the ring, and you see Serge Annis etch his name into history, as the next IIWF World champion. SK: Let's get somethin' straight. The ol' Serge woulda been dropped like a bad habit! The new Serge can get dumped on his ass jus' as a fast! [Fury Pop!] Lethal Protector?! What the hell!?! Ya mean yer not gonna be yer usual cheery self? Ya don't know what ya wanna be. Ya might as well an' get yerself a sex change, 'cause it sounds like ya lost yer balls! [Huge POP! Frustration can be seen on Annis' face, as it looks obvious that he'd rather be brawling with the world champion right now. Annis speaks with an irritated tone of voice.] SA: Steve... I'm trying to be the better person here. There's no need for that... [Annis looks like he is having trouble putting out these words.] And... and this... this is not the time or place for senseless violence. Perhaps it's time you look yourself over in the mirror, Kowalski. See that past the beer and insults, you aren't much of anything. It's a miracle no one has taken you down yet, and that is going to change... soon. SK: The only miracle is the day I signed with the Double Eye. Since then, I've been performin' them. An' it would take some divine [BLEEP]in' intervention fer ya to knock me off my pedestal. I don't know how many times I have to drill it into yer thick noggin, It ain't what ya say... It's what ya do! Beatin' an old man within in an inch of his life ain't impressin' me. Mad Dog was damaged goods when he came back, ya jus' cashed in on it. That's all. Truth is, when the brass ring is out there... when ya can jus' reach out and grab it... Ya always fall short! [Kowalski pauses, letting Annis feel the brunt of the comment. Until he continues with:] Tell me somethin', Serge... What does it feel like to be on the outside lookin' in? Night after night. Jus' itchin' to be _me_! [Annis turns to the side, trying hard to keep his composure. A smile cracks open on the face of Kowalski as he is enjoying this. Annis runs his hand through his hair and looks back to Steve.] SA: You know something, Steve... I can see that these past months as IIWF World champion have really had little effect on your award winning personality. But you see... I've changed. I am not the same Serge Annis that you beat four weeks ago. I'm not even the Serge Annis that you couldn't beat three different times in December. No, Steve... I've changed, and it's for the best. If you couldn't beat me then, Steve Kowalski... then you'll have no hope in hell of beating me now. You have an open challenge out to anyone. You save those words, Kowalski. As soon as I get off probation... as soon as I impress the suits enough to allow it... I'll take you up on those word,s Kowalski, and I'll see to it that you regret each and every one of them. There's a new "man" around here Steve. And it's not the Fury. It's the Epitome, and there's nothing that you can do about it. [Annis extends his hand out to Kowlaksi. Steve eyes him over as if to say, "what the hell are you doing?"] SA: So for now, Steve... you're safe. And just to show to you and to the world, how much I am trying to change... shake my hand, Kowalski... and if, and when we meet, may the best man win. [Annis drops his microphone and stares straight at the world champion who stares right back. Annis keeps his hand out. Kowlaksi looks around to the crowd as if to say, "Do I trust him?"] SR: [Over headset] A handshake between Serge Annis and Steve Kowalski? What the hell is Annis thinking? [Kowalski slowly extends his hand out to meet Annis'. The two exchange a quick, firm handshake. The cameras click and lightbulbs flash, getting pictures of this rare occasion. A feeling of intensity grows in the air as the crowd expect a double cross from Annis. Dross returns to the broadcasting table as the two superstars let go of the handshake.] TD: [over headset] A handshake between the IIWF World Heavyweight Champion, and one of his most determined challengers. And to top it all off... there was no violence. Who would have thought? [At this Kowalski jerks Annis forward and grabs him by the throat. There is a collective pop as the New Jersy Nightmare chokeslams the Epitome of Evil to the floor. In mock laughter, Kowalski yells something to the effect of "Weak ass Epitomizer!"] SR: Yeah, baby! Saturday Night's all right for fighting! [Annis rolls out to the floor. On the floor, Annis looks livid. He grabs a chair and looks to charge the champ with it but... stops. As he clutches the chair, preparing to enter the ring with it, he stops and looks down at himself and slowly lowers the chair and turns around. And just begins to walk up the aisle.] SK: That's it, big man! Walk yer ass to whatever [BLEEP]hole ya cme from. This is Fury's playground an' ya learn to play by my rules... ya don't play at all! ["Don't Fear The Reaper" kicks in once more as Kowalski throws the microphone to the mat, and then mounts the turnbuckles, hoisting the prized IIWF World Heavyweight Championship above his head.] TD: Just listen to these fans, Steve Roberts! This is what it's all about, right here! SR: Steve "the Fury" Kowalski - the greatest IIWF World Champion of all time! Whoo-hoo! TD: The challengers will be lining up for Kowalski in the next few weeks... but can the Fury keep up this break-neck pace? I guess we'll find out! [Kowalski moves to each corner in turn and basks in the cheers of the crowd, cameras flashing all over the Coliseum. Finally, he leaves the ring and heads back up the aisle, allowing the fans on either side to buffet him with their eager hands, hungry for a touch of the most prized gold belt in all of professional sports. Finally, Kowalski is gone, and the chants of "FU-RY! FU-RY!" die down. Cut back to the broadcast table at ringside.] TD: Well, folks... without any further ado, let's get to tonight's main event. The ring has been specially reinforced for this big battle royal to decide the "elite eight" who will compete in the tournament for the vacant Intercontinental Championship, starting right here next week. SR: I loves the battle royals, Dross. Let's go! TD: Indeed -- it should be a tremendous battle. Let's get up to the ring! ________ ______ | || |\ \ /\ / /| __|.................................................. | || | \ v v / | __| IIWF INTERCONTINENTAL CHAMPIONSHIP TOURNAMENT |_||_| \_/\_/ |_| Elimination Battle Royal ....................................................................... WRITER: Shawn Kilpatrick [Cut to a overhead camera shot of the Coliseum, and the aisle leading to the ring as a line of IIWF stars begin filing out of the entrance and down the aisle towards the ring. Each man is surrounded by several burly security guards, as the IIWF Administration is clearly taking no chances of having the battle start before everyone is in the ring.] TD: The participants are on their way to ringside now, and what a parade of talent we have on display here tonight, Steve Roberts! SR: What, you mean those hot blonde triplets in the eighth row, Dross? TD: I was referring to the sixteen men now entering the ring, Steve. SR: Hey, if _you'd_ rather look at the Meatman's chest, be my guest, buddy. C'mon, l'il darlin's, jump for Poppa Soundbite... TD: Good grief. Folks, we are just moments away from what should be one heck of a main event -- sixteen of the IIWF's best and brightest, all battling for the right to wear the IIWF Intercontinental Title! [Cut back to a camera in the aisle, which shows the participants as they file past towards the ring: the "Black Jesus", "Savage" Shadoe Rage, his lip curled in a cocky snarl; a very confident-looking "Real Deal" Luke Steele; his namesake Jimmy "The Meatman" Steele, running his hands over his head relentlessly as he plods towards the ring; "Rocket Man" Timothy N. Turner, decked out in an especially stunning gold lamé robe, drawing wolf whistles from several ladies at ringside; IIWF newcomer "Vagabond" Chris Staley, trying to maintain focus but looking a bit overwhelmed by his new surroundings; the aristocratic Charles Scheffield; the hulking form of Edmund Fitzgerald, cracking his knuckles as he passes; a distant, impassive Derek Mota; Harlequin Tragedy, dressed in black with facepaint to match and a new, short haircut; the "Ragin' Cajun" Christopher Stonebreaker, pumping a fist by his side as he whispers to himself on his way to ringside; the "Savior" Simon Lebec, sans crutches as he hobbles down the aisle; the unlikely trio of Scott "The Whine" Bloom, Bobby B. Goode and El Super Gecko, bickering amongst themselves and making motions around their respective waists, to the amusement of the ringside fans; former Intercontinental champ Marty Warnett, flashing his megawatt smile as he struts towards the ring; and finally, well back of the others, the grim, imposing from of Serge Annis, an intense look of sheer concentration on his face as he strides past the camera.] TD: The participants are slowly entering the ring, this small army of security keeping them well isolated from one another, but once all sixteen men are in that ring, it's anything goes, Steve. SR: Absolutely, Dross. A battle royal ain't about fancy high-flying moves or the paint-drying boredom of rest-holds -- it's the tough guys who shine here, and we gots a few of the Double Eye's toughest in there tonight, baby dolls. TD: I'll go along with you there, Steve, and if I had to pick a favourite out of all these fine athletes to win this match, it would have to be Serge Annis. The big Canadian has seen his share of tough matches in the IIWF, and he has to be a man to watch for tonight. SR: Nah, I gotta go with the "Black Jesus", Dross-man. The way Rage took it to the Fury at Ring Wars, and came this close to tasting an IIWF title, he's gotta be looking to make the most of this latest opportunity. Shadoe's got the hunger, and the Soundbite's picking him to go all the way! TD: I can't help thinking though, Steve, despite the impressive array of talent we now have in the ring, just how the face of this match would change with the participation of two men regarded among the toughest in the IIWF -- Joe Petrow and Duncan Macbeth. SR: Yeah, you'd think that Crazy Joe would have put his name in for this tournament, so that he'd have something to fall back on when the horseshoe up McArthur's ass craps out and he finds himself looking across the ring at the Barnacle Brothers again. But MacBean... well, I guess you gotta admire the guy for taking a stand, even with all his cockamammie stories about ratings and revenue. Did you buy any of D-Mac's "conspiracy theories", Dross-man? TD: I have some doubts about the actual facts of the matter, Steve, but the young Macbeth can certainly spin a convincing yarn. SR: You know what, Dross, I heard that Oliver Stone called MacBean after Ring Wars about the movie rights to the whole Thames Barge/IC vacancy story! You see, Ollie thinks that the Mafia wanted Lebec as champion because of his ties to the porn industry, and the British Government wanted D-Mac out of the title picture because of his cousin's political ties to the Scottish Liberation Revolutionary Army. So Spreadbury _had_ to vacate the title, to avoid either being dropped into Puget Sound wearing cement Guccis, or kidnapped by the SAS and forced to eat haggis and watch BBC documentaries about sheep husbandry. TD: That makes absolutely no sense at all, Steve Roberts. SR: I tell you though, Drossy, those Black Watch boys are gonna shake things up in the tag ranks big time, and remember, folks, you heard it from the Soundbite. Petrow may regret not getting in this tournament when these two are breathing down his neck, and sooner rather than later. TD: That, as they say, is a horse of a different colour, Steve Roberts, but right now, it looks as if this colossal main event is about to get underway, so let's go up to the ring! [As Annis finally steps through the ropes into the crowded ring, and referees Earl Alfonso, Joey Patrick, Dave D'Amato and Hugo Hugo take up positions on each side of the ring, Sparkplug Lee steps out into the aisle, to tumultuous cheers from the crowd, and raises the ring mic.] SL: Ladies and gentlemen, the following contest is your MAIN EVENT of the evening! [Big pop from the fans!] SL: This contest is a sixteen man battle royal to determine the top eight contenders for the IIWF Intercontinental Title! Wrestlers will be eliminated by being thrown over the top rope and landing with both feet on the outside of the ring, with the final eight men remaining in the ring securing spots in the upcoming Intercontinental Title Tournament!] [Another pop from the fans, but a vocal section of Duncan Macbeth fans jeer their disapproval.] SL: Of the eight men remaining in the battle royal, their places in the tournament will be determined by their seeding in order of elimination! Once the last man has been eliminated, the winner of the battle royal will be seeded first in the tournament, and will go on to wrestle the eighth seed, with the second seed wrestling the seventh, and so forth. And so, ladies and gentlemen... LET THE BATTLE ROYAL BEGIN! [Huge pop from the fans, as Earl Alfonso calls for the bell -- Ding! Ding! Ding! -- and immediately, all hell breaks loose inside the ring! Immediately, TNT and Mota begin swinging away at one another, old scored still not forgotten, while Stonebreaker, Scheffield, and Fitzgerald get tangled up and Luke Steele and Marty Warnett brawl into a corner. Chris Staley gets a rough welcome to the IIWF as he walks into a chokehold from Annis, but the newcomer manages to slip out before the big Canadian can chokeslam him over the rope! Shadoe Rage is on fire, dropping El Super Gecko and Harlequin Tragedy before Jimmy Steele bearhugs him and runs him into a corner where the two start trading haymakers!] TD: Well, we're off to a flying start here in this battle royal, folks! There's almost too much action to call here -- the ring is literally a cloud of flying fists! SR: Just sit back and enjoy the carnage, Dross-man. That's what battle royals are for! TD: Serge Annis is making another attempt to eliminate newcomer Chris Staley now... Tragedy is moving to the corner to help out the Meatman against Rage... Simon Lebec and Luke Steele are trading blows... Stonebreaker picking his spots, now getting involved in the Turner-Mota altercation... the crowd is going wild... what the devil is that? SR: Someone's coming down to the ring, Dross! TD: IT'S THE DEATHBRINGER! It appears that the Deathbringer is going to be a late addition to this battle royal! SR: Man, if the 'Bringer's in this dance, then all bets are off, Dross! He's a big, heavy sumbitch, and he loves pain. He'll be tough to eliminate! TD: I'm not sure that Deathbringer is officially signed to participate in this match, Steve, but now he has stepped up onto the apron and... Good Lord! [As soon as the Deathbringer leaps up onto the apron, he reaches into the fray with a huge, tree-trunk arm and grabs Scott "The Whine" Bloom by the hair! Bloom screams in agony as the 'Bringer yanks him over the top rope and sends him tumbling to the floor! Big pop!] TD: I don't believe this! Deathbringer just eliminated Scott Bloom! SR: Great. Now he's got something _else_ to whine about for the next eighteen months. Thanks, dead boy. TD: Nobody in the ring seems to have noticed Deathbringer... Hugo Hugo trying to pull the big man down... Deathbringer reaches into the ring again... HE'S GOT EL SUPER GECKO! [The crowd pops as Deathbringer seizes the Gecko by the throat and, with an incredible burst of power, jerks the hissing lizard up and over the top rope! The Gecko crashes hard to the mat outside, joining Scott Bloom, and pounds his fist on the floor in frustration.] SR: So much for your title hopes, jabrone! TD: This is terrible! Deathbringer is making a mockery of this tournament! He's just randomly grabbing people and eliminating them! There goes Bobby B. Goode -- this has got to stop! [Goode crashes to the floor as big Joey Patrick rushes around the ring to help the diminutive Hugo in his attempt to pull Deathbringer off the mat, but the fearsome wrestler will not be budged, as a chilling laugh escapes his cowl and he reaches into the ring once again!] TD: The officials aren't having any success in getting Deathbringer out of there... oh my goodness, he's got Derek Mota! [As Turner and Mota continue to brawl away inside the ring, Mota is suddenly shocked to find the massive hand of the Deathbringer curled around his neck! The plucky Canadian holds on for dear life as Deathbringer hauls him to the ropes and begins lifting him up over the top rope, but before he can go over, Mota grabs the rope with his legs! Big pop!] TD: Mota's hanging on! SR: Not for long, Dross! Look at Turner! [As Mota struggles to break Deathbringer's hold, the ring ropes bending from the tension, Turner suddenly bolts across the ring, and kicks Mota's legs off of the top rope! Huge pop from the fans, as Mota is slingshot off the top rope and goes flying into the aisle outside the ring! Turner's satisfied look is quickly extinguished as he is cut down from behind by Simon Lebec, who lifts the Victorian up and runs him into the corner, trying to push Turner up the turnbuckles and out of the ring!] TD: Derek Mota is gone! Mota has been eliminated by Turner, with a big assist from the Deathbringer! SR: And look who's coming to congratulate the little bastard, Dross! [As Mota glares up at Deathbringer and spews a torrent of profanity at the big renegade, he is suddenly spun around from behind and dropped with a stiff right hand from Eddy "Flap" Jacks! The crowd cheers wildly as Mota and jacks begin brawling in the aisle!] TD: Jacks is absolutely furious! It was because of the involvement of Derek Mota that Jacks lost his bid for the IIWF Cruiserweight Title against Icehawk, and the big man has come down here looking for some payback! SR: I think they ought to give Mota a freakin' medal, Dross! Look at the embarrassment he saved the Double Eye if that fat old geezer had won the title! Say... you don't think that Mota is secretly working for Spreadbury, do you, Dross-man? First MacBean and now Jacks -- who's pullin' the strings? Who's the man behind the curtain? Who watches the watchmen? [As the battle royal rages on, with Deathbringer still reaching his huge arm into the ring to grab unsuspecting wrestlers and Dave D'Amato joins Alfonso and Hugo to try to remove him, Jacks pounds away at the smaller Mota, eyes flashing and teeth bared. Jacks sends Mota flying into a steel crowd barrier to a big crowd pop, but the gritty Canuck reaches for a nearby chair as Jacks closes in and swings away from the floor, catching Jacks in the solar plexus! Jacks doubles over in pain, and Mota brings the chair down across the big man's back, crumpling him to the concrete! Mota prepares for a third strike, but is immediately swarmed by security, who bustle the two men up the aisle and out of the Coliseum as the crowd cheers them out.] TD: Thank goodness that was finally broken up. I'm sure that the bad blood between Mota and Jacks will continue well after tonight, but back to the battle royal, and the Deathbringer is still trying to pull men out of the ring! [Deathbringer flails away at the wrestlers as they fight on inside the ring, and manages to snag Luke Steele, but his grip is broken as Marty Warnett charges Steele from behind and knocks him into a corner. Deathbringer reaches out again... and gets a firm hold on "Vagabond" Chris Staley!] TD: Deathbringer's got the rookie Staley now, and Staley is fighting! SR: 'Bringer's got him to the ropes, Dross! Say goodnight, greenhorn! [Staley continues to struggle against Deathbringer's iron grip, but he can't hope to match the bigger man's raw strength, and the Deathbringer roughly yanks Staley over the top rope and sends him sprawling to the floor! Huge pop!] TD: Staley has now been eliminated! We're down to eleven men! SR: Uh-oh... Staley's pissed, and I think he's about to do something really stupid, Dross. [Staley slowly picks himself up, rubbing a trickle of blood away from his mouth, and glares up at the huge Deathbringer, whose back is turned and is reaching into the ring again for another victim. As the three officials continue to struggle to move Deathbringer off the mat, the newcomer storms over to the ring, reaches up, and grabs the back of Deathbringer's tights! The crowd explodes with a big pop as Staley hauls the Deathbringer off of the mat, sending the big man reeling into the timekeeper's table!] TD: Deathbringer is down! Staley just yanked Deathbringer off the mat! SR: Okay, all you morons watching out there, take note of this. This is _not_ the way you want to start your IIWF wrestling career! [As the Deathbringer slowly picks himself up from the remains of the table, he turns and sees Chris Staley standing across from him in the aisle, beckoning to the big man with a "come and get some" gesture! Deathbringer slowly begins to advance towards the smaller Staley, and Staley responds by recklessly charging at the huge wrestler! Deathbringer, surprisingly quick for his size, meets Staley's charge with a swift kick to Staley's abdomen, doubling him over, then scoops up the disoriented newcomer, wrenching him up into an inverted belly-to-belly position. Incredible pop from the crowd!] TD: BURIAL! Deathbringer just hit the Burial on "Vagabond" Chris Staley! The big man drove Staley's head into the bare concrete, and Staley is out cold! SR: And the 'Bringer is just leaving! Way to go, rookie! That's showin' him! [The crowd lets loose with a resounding heel pop for the massive Deathbringer as he merely turns away from the unconscious Staley and stalks up the aisle towards the exit. Staley does not move for long moments, and eventually a group of security guards makes its way over to the fallen newcomer and helps him to his feet, supporting him as he slowly makes his way out of the Coliseum.] TD: Well, Chris Staley has received a rather harsh welcome to the world of the IIWF, but I'm absolutely appalled at the actions of the Deathbringer! SR: Are you kiddin' me, Dross? It's about damn time that the dead man got up off his cold, dead ass and started raising a little hell again! And if Chris Staley has half a brain in his head, he'll steer clear of the big man, or his stay here in the Double Eye just might be the shortest ever. TD: Back up to the action in the ring now, with eleven men left now... Scheffield and Stonebreaker locking up again... Turner has Lebec pinned in a corner, rocking the "Savior" with forearm smashes... Rage and Edmund Fitzgerald trying to put each other over the top... Luke Steele is _choking_ Marty Warnett on the top rope... the Meatman smashes Serge Annis into a corner, charges in... and MISSES! Annis rushes in... Steele nearly goes over, but... but... what the hell is THAT? SR: Language, Dross-man! This is a family show, for [BLEEP]'s sake! TD: No, Steve! What.. or _who_... is _that_? [The camera cuts to a ringside shot of an absolutely monstrous figure shoving his way through the crowd near ringside, screaming at the top of his lungs! The hulking figure tosses spectators aside like rag dolls, and steps over the crowd barrier into the aisle as if he were stepping over a curb! The crowd reacts with shock and confusion at the appearance of this behemoth, who is well over seven feet tall and is heavily muscled, his skin covered with intricate tattoos of what appear to be black vines with countless human skulls growing out of them! The monster's wild eyes turn to the battle royal at ringside, and he shakes his head violently, whipping his long black ponytail in his face as he lets loose with a bloodcurdling shriek that sends chills up the spines of everyone in earshot!] TD: Oh my goodness... no, it _can't_ be! SR: It can't be who? TD: It's VALTHARIUS THE MAD! SR: Huh? [peers at Valtharius] No, it isn't. Valtharius is bigger than that! TD: Steve Roberts, that man is at least seven foot four! SR: Well, if that's the real Valtharius, then where's... [Roberts is cut off as a second man emerges from the crowd behind Valtharius, scrambling over the barrier that the huge Italian negotiated with ease.] SR: Never mind. [The man in question is Karachel, Valtharius' manager, mentor, and keeper, and he barks an order at the tattooed behemoth, and Valtharius immediately ceases his shrieking and looks expectantly at Karachel. Karachel grabs hold of Valtharius' ponytail and pulls him down close to his face, whispers in the big man's ear, and gestures to the ring. Valtharius draws himself up to his full 7'5", seems to flex every single muscle in his body at once, and roars with fury as he breaks into a lumbering run and sprints up the stairs to the ring! Huge pop!] TD: What the... Valtharius is heading for the ring! SR: Look at that big moron, Dross! What, does he think he can just show up out of the crowd and jump into the Intercontinental Title tournament? TD: I'm certain of one thing, Steve Roberts -- who's exactly is going to tell him he _can't_? SR: Good point. [Valtharius steps over the top rope, looks around the ring, and makes a beeline straight for Edmund Fitzgerald, who is suddenly torn away from his battle with Shadoe Rage and laid out with a crushing headbutt from the massive Roman! Valtharius is screeching at the top of his lumgs as he leaps into the air and delivers another headbutt to the prone Fitz, who bounces across the mat in agony! Pop! Rage escapes the corner, but walks right into a clothesline from Christopher Stonebreaker, and the two men begin trading shots as Serge Annis spots Luke Steele with his back turned and delivers a crushing double-axehandle to the "Real Deal"'s lower back, sending him flying into a corner! Huge pop! TD: Annis with a huge hit on Steele, and the big Canadian is going to work on the "Real Deal"! Turner and Lebec are still battling... Valtharius is _sitting_ on top of Edmund Fitzgerald and blatantly choking him! SR: I like this guy, Dross. Sure, he makes the Meatman look like a technician, but he sure as hell is fun to watch! TD: Rage trying to lift Christopher Stonebreaker over the top rope... AND HE GOES OVER! NO! Stonebreaker lands on the mat, and snaps Rage's head on the turnbuckle pad! The Cajun climbs back in... Turner nails Lebec with a short-arm clothesline, and Lebec is down! Annis pulls up Luke Steele, setting up a DDT... Steele goes around! FLOATING DDT ON ANNIS! Luke Steele just laid out Serge Annis with that move, and now Steele is trying to lift Annis over the top! [As Luke Steele pulls the dazed Annis to his feet, he tries to dead-lift the big Canadian with little success. Sensing that Annis may be coming around, Steele decides to try and suplex Annis out of the ring. Steele slaps a facelock on Annis, digs in... and Annis blocks! Pop! Steele tries again... ANOTHER block! Incredible pop! Steele responds to Annis' rally with a knee to the midsection, keeps the facelock on... and gets Annis up! The crowd goes wild as Steele holds the massive Annis over his head, takes a shaky step towards the ropes... and is knocked down from behind by Charles Scheffield, who was sent reeling by a haymaker from the Meatman! Pop!] TD: That was close! Luke Steele very nearly put Annis out, and now Annis, Steele, and Scheffield are down on the canvas! Jimmy Steele moves over to pick up Scheffield... and is clotheslined by Valtharius the Mad! Valtharius scoops up the Meatman like a rag doll... and SLAMS him on top of Edmund Fitzgerald! This man is an absolute wrecking machine! SR: Karachel looks so proud, Dross. Just like a dad at Little League. [Serge Annis slowly struggles to his feet, still disoriented from the floating DDT, and staggers around, trying to shake off the cobwebs. Another figure suddenly rises to his feet in front of him, and Annis reacts to the surprise with pure instinct by charging forward and holding his arm out! As Luke Steele looks on from the mat, Annis nails an unsuspecting Charles Scheffield with a powerful running clothesline that carries _both_ wrestlers over the top rope and out of the ring! Incredible pop!] TD: Serge Annis and Charles Scheffield are out of the battle royal! Annis may have been gunning for Luke Steele, and he hit Scheffield instead! SR: Bad break for Serge, Dross. I thought he'd be wearing that Intercontinental Title by now, but... ah, what am I saying, he wants to be a goddy-goody now, so screw him! TD: We're down to ten men! [As Rage and Stonebreaker continue to trade blows, Turner applies a chokehold to Simon Lebec, Harlequin Tragedy and Marty Warnett take turns smashing each others' heads into a corner turnbuckle and the two Steeles begin brawling, suddenly the other eight men stop in their tracks and turn into the centre of the ring, where Valtharius the Mad is holding Edmund Fitzgerald, no small man himself, at arm's length by the hair! Pop! As the wrestlers look on in shock, the colossal Italian grabs Fitz left arm, chickenwings it behind his head, holds him up by the chickenwinged arm as he pulls his massive right hand back... and DRIVES a hard fist into Fitz's sternum! Incredible pop! TD: Gladiator Heartpunch! The force of that blow could stop Fitz's heart! Someone's got to get that animal out of there! SR: Like you said, Dross -- who? [The crowd reacts with a shocked pop as Valtharius _hangs on_ to Fitz following the heartpunch, and pulls his fist back again, sending another punch crunching into Fitzgerald's breastbone! Huge heel pop! Vatharius' banshee wail threatens to drown out the crowd as he goes absolutely wild, driving his fist into Fitz's chest again and again and again! Edmund Fitzgerald is nearly unconscious in the huge Roman's clutches, and he begins to turn noticeably pale!] TD: [shouting to Karachel] Hey, you! Stop him! He's going to KILL that man! [Karachel merely shrugs at Dross, but after a moment strolls over to ringside, and barks an order up at Valtharius. The behemoth suddenly halts another heartpunch in mid-swing and looks down to Karachel, who gives Valtharius a thumbs-down sign. Valtharius immediately walks Fitz over to the ropes, and casually tosses the three-hundred pounder over the top rope! Pop!] TD: Somebody get that man some medical attention! Now! [Outside the ring, Fitz struggles to get back on his feet, as he tries to rise to his knees, he suddenly gasps, clutches his chest, and collapses back to the floor! Fitz is clearly in agony, and an EMT crew quickly rushes to his side, wasting no time in rolling the big man onto a gurney and speeding him up the aisle to a waiting ambulance!] TD: Edmund Fitzgerald may be in serious physical condition after that heinous attack by Valtharius the Mad! He may have a cracked sternum, broken ribs, or may have even suffered cardiac arrest as a result of those vicious heart punches! SR: Jesus, Dross -- who the hell's gonna stop that guy? [The eight other men in the ring are asking themselves the same question as they stare at the wild-eyed gladiator, who is still looking to Karachel for instructions. As Karachel begins barking more orders to his charge, the eight men look to each other, laying their current disputes aside as they all realise what needs to be done. As Valtharius finally turns to look for another victim, Steele, Meatman, Turner, Lebec, Tragedy, Warnett, Stonebreaker, and Rage all charge the mammoth Italian as one, forcing him into a corner!] TD: This is incredible! The remaining eight men have united to force Valtharius out of the ring! SR: Maybe they should get a couple more guys, Dross! [Valtharius is roaring with rage as he is swarmed by the remaining eight, and struggles to swat away his attackers, but Stonebreaker and Meatman manage to pin down the Italian's tree-trunk arms as the other six work to contain Valtharius' flailing legs and with a momentous group effort, they manage to get under the huge gladiator, lift him up onto the top turnbuckle... And drop him over the ropes to the outside! INCREDIBLE pop!] TD: Valtharius is out! Valtharius is out! SR: It's a great day for democracy, Dross! [Outside, Valtharius is immediately on his feet, and he charges back at the ring, attempting to scramble over the ropes and get back in, but Karachel, a stern look crossing his features, barks an order at Valtharius, who is slow to obey this time. Karachel walks over to the hulking Valtharius and gets right in his face, screaming his displeasure at the massive wrestler, and Valtharius hangs his head, looking strangely ashamed. Karachel then turns and storms up the aisle and out of the Coliseum, with the suddenly docile Valtharius plodding slowly after his guardian.] TD: Thank goodness that... monstrosity is finally out of here, but I shudder to think that we'll be seeing that kind of uncontrolled mayhem on a regular basis around here. I only hope that Edmund Fitzgerald hasn't been seriously injured here tonight. SR: You know, that conspiracy story of MacBean's is starting to make a little more sense to me now, Dross. I mean, he strips D-Mac of the title for being too rough, and then he turns around and signs this maniac who just tried to kill Fitz in his debut appearance. What's up with that? TD: Valtharius appears to have now left the Coliseum, but I'm sure that IIWF security will be on high alert in the future as long as this behemoth is around. Right now, though, we now have our eight finalists for the Intercontinental Title tournament, and one of those eight men will be wearing the IIWF Intercontinental Title at Birthday Bash! They're fighting for seeds now, so let's go back to the action! [The eight finalists are still piled in the corner where Valtharius was ejected, and now that the focus of their union has been eliminated, they resume battling once more! Harlequin Tragedy and Christopher Stonebreaker lock up, the Cajun trying to lift the Harlequin over the top... Luke Steele and Marty Warnett begin trading shots... the Meatman and Shadoe Rage lock their hands aroung the others' throats, choking each other to the mat... Lebec swings at Turner, who sweeps the legs out from under the "Savior" and takes advantage of the increase in ring room to nail Lebec with a powerdrive elbowsmash... Stonebreaker and Tragedy stumble into Steele and Warnett... a free-for-all starts up in the corner... Luke Steele gets forced into the corner and up onto the pads... TD: Luke Steele is in trouble! [Steele is now precariously perched on the top turnbuckle as Stonebreaker, Tragedy, and Warnett lay into one another. The "Real Deal" tries to climb down onto the apron and slip back into the ring, but Warnett spots him out of the corner of his eye, and breaking away from Tragedy, lines up Steele and delivers a superkick to the side of Steele's head! Incredible pop from the crowd as Steele topples off the apron and hits the floor on the outside!] TD: Luke Steele is out! The "Real Deal" receives the eighth seed for the tournament! SR: Hah. The "Real Schlemiel" against the Black Jesus. I'm gonna call my bet in right now, Dross-man. TD: You really shouldn't say things like that on the air, Steve Roberts. Seven remain, and fatigue has to be setting in for those men now... [Indeed, the seven survivors are moving considerably slower after close to forty minutes in the ring, and Jimmy "The Meatman" Steele is beginning to labour especially, as his considerable size begins to work against him. Christopher Stonebreaker and Tragedy turn their attentions to the Meatman, and as the Harlequin wraps an arm around Steele's throat, choking the wind out of him, Stonebreaker bulls the Meatman to the ropes and starts to lean him over! The Meatman begins to struggle frantically, trying to shake off Tragedy and kick Stonebreaker away, but his flailing only serve to push him farther over the top rope, and Tragedy, sensing an opening, suddenly releases his grip and gets under Steele's torso, adding his shoulder to Stonebreaker's as the two men push Jimmy Steele over the top! Huge pop!] TD: Jimmy Steele has been eliminated! SR: The Meatguy gets the seventh seed, and he'll fight whoever loses to Rage tonight! [Tragedy looks down at Jimmy Steele as he picks himself up off the floor, cursing, and the Harlequin allows himself a momentary smile before he turns back to the action... And is clotheslined out of the ring by Christopher Stonebreaker! Pop!] TD: Harlequin Tragedy is out! Tragedy and Stonebreaker worked together to eliminate the Meatman, and then the Cajun turned around and knocked out the Harlequin! SR: Hey, no friends in a battle royal, baby dolls. Tragedy was daydreaming there for a second, and in a match like this, that's one second too much! TD: We're down to five men, Steve Roberts! Who will be the next to go? SR: I've got my money on Walnut, Dross. I'm surprised he's hung in this long, so I figure he's due. [Stonebreaker looks around the ring, looking for another fray to get into, and spots Turner and Lebec struggling to put each other over the top rope on the opposite side of the ring. TNT and the "Savior" look absolutely exhausted, and the Cajun, seeing an opportunity, charges across the ring, arms outstretched, looking to knock both lightweights over the top! Lebec and Turner suddenly stop their struggles as TNT spots Stonebreaker, glances at Lebec, and as Stonebreaker barrels towards them, Lebec and Turner suddenly split off, leaving a big empty hole! Stonebreaker tries to hit the breaks, but he can't slow himself in time to avoid Turner and Lebec both grabbing him by the back of the head and pitching him over the top rope! Big pop!] TD: Christopher Stonebreaker has been eliminated! SR: Why, why, oh WHY do guys in battle royals insist on running into the ropes? That's like, Wrestling 101, isn't it, Dross? TD: It's always a gamble in this situation, Steve, and this time, the Cajun crapped out. Christopher Stonebreaker receives the fifth seed, and we're down to the final four! [As Warnett and Rage brawl away in the opposite corner, Turner suddenly marshals his energy and flies at Lebec, sending him crashing to the canvas with a vicious clothesline! TNT, rallying, scoops up Lebec and sends him flying into an opposite corner, following him in for a running splash... and CONNECTS! Huge pop! Turner quickly grabs the "Savior", pulls him up, and tries to lift him over the ropes, but suddenly, Turner is reeling back from the corner, clutching at his face!] TD: Lebec just poked TNT in the eyes! SR: Yep, took a page right out of the Rocket Man's book! Sweet! [Lebec leans against the corner turnbuckles, trying to clear his head as Turner staggers around, wiping the tears from his eyes, and he squints back at the "Savior", fuming! As Turner strides over to try and put Lebec over again, the French-Canadian suddenly throws a leg up into the air, unseen through the Rocket Man's blurred vision, and connects to the back of Turner's head with the Devil's Pitchfork! Big pop! Turner goes sprawling across the top rope, bounces there for a couple of moments as he tries desperately to balance himself... and topples over the rope to the floor below! Huge heel pop!] TD: Simon Lebec has just eliminated Timothy N. Turner! What a rivalry we've seen between these two men tonight, but TNT comes out on the short end this time. If they meet again in the title tournament, it should be one heck of a match. SR: He's still Cheesecake to me, Dross. TD: The "Rocket Man" receives the fourth seed, and there's still three to go! Lebec makes his way over to Warnett and Rage, and now all three finalists are going toe-to-toe with each other! These men are on the brink of exhaustion, and they're still hammering away at each other! [Shadoe Rage, with a burst of newly-found energy, suddenly grabs both Warnett and Lebec by the hair, and drives their heads together with a resounding CRACK! Lebec and Warnett both collapse to the canvas, as the crowd cheers for the "Black Jesus", and Rage responds to the cheers by extending his muscular arms out in a Christ-like pose and bellowing triumphantly!] TD: Rage is rallying! We may well be looking at the winner right now! SR: Money in the bank, baby dolls. The Black Jesus is going all the way! [However, the cheers quickly turn to cries of alarm, and confusion crosses the face of Shadoe Rage as Warnett and Lebec suddenly spring up on either side of the "Black Jesus", grab his outstretched arms, and double-backdrop him over the top rope to the outside! Colossal pop! Rage lands hard on his shoulders, and he lies outside the ring clutching the back of his head as Lebec and Warnett take a moment to catch their breath, leaning against the ropes!] SR: Aw, [BLEEP]! TD: Rage is out! Shadoe Rage has been eliminated, and we're down to the last two men! SR: Lebec... and _Walnut_? What the hell is this crap? [Simon Lebec and Marty Warnett, the final two competitors, look absolutely whipped as they lie against the ropes, struggling for breath as they watch a dejected Rage, the third seed in the Intercontinental Title tournament, pull himself to his feet and slowly make his way up the aisle. After a few moments, Warnett pulls himself upright, and staggers to the centre of the ring, beckoning to Lebec, who wipes the sweat from his brow and slowly makes his way over to lock up with the "Party Maniac"! The crowd is on its feet as the final two square off face-to-face, preparing for the final struggle!] TD: This is a real treat, folks! The history of these two men goes back to the very beginning of the IIWF, when Warnett and Lebec feuded bitterly for months! SR: What treat? Look at them, Dross! They're both dead on their feet! One of them's going to have to trip and fall over the top rope before this match will be over! TD: Warnett's calling for the lockup now, and Lebec moves in... wat a second, what's going on? [Suddenly, a figure dashes down the aisle and scrambles into the ring, unseen by either Warnett or Lebec! The crowd responds with a deafening heel pop as they recognise the strange intruder!] SR: Aw, cripes! It's the Indonesian! TD: Takezo Musashi? That man should NOT be out here! What the devil is he doing? SR: Stirrin' the pot, Dross, just like always! Someone ought to send that Valtharius guy after this moron! [Musashi storms into the ring, blindsiding Lebec with a vicious clothesline, then the Japanese superstar turns on the exhausted Warnett and floors him with a scything spin kick that catches the Welshman flush on the jaw! Huge heel pop! Musashi's eyes flash with exhilaration as he scoops Warnett up, slips behind him, and...] TD: BACKDRIVER SUPLEX! Musashi is utterly destroying Marty Warnett! SR: Well, what's so bad about that? TD: Please, Steve Roberts! After all these two men have been through in this match, to have the Enigma barge in here and make an absolute mackery of this match is just atrocious! Whatever this man's mental state may be, something has to be done about Musashi's behavior, and soon! SR: Yeah... 'cause, you know, when that Laotian menace was the Cruiserweight Champ, he tried to kill Icegeek about eight or nine times, but then MacBean and Lebec get a little bloody at Ring Wars and Spreadbury vacates the Intercontinental Title... hey, I gotta call Oliver Stone! [Musashi laughs with glee as Warnett crumples to the canvas, unconscious, and turns back to Lebec, hauling him to his feet and paintbrushing his face before smashing the "Savior" into the canvas with another Backdriver Suplex! The heel heat in the Coliseum rises to fever pitch as Musashi circles the two stunned wrestlers, cackling with deranged laughter as paper cups and other debris rains down on the ring!] TD: Someone's got to get him out of there! SR: Look, Dross! [laughing] Here comes the cavalry! [Musashi looks on in disbelief as Hugo Hugo scuttles into the ring and strides right up to the Enigma, wagging a finger at the Japanese star and ordering him to leave the ring at once! The crowd pop dies down as the fans, as much awed by Hugo's nerve as concerned about the incredible danger he has put himself in, begin to whisper nervously. Musashi blinks, impressed at the diminutive official's courage, and immediately drops his hands to his sides, bowing to the Lilliputian referee. Hugo, not buying this for a second, gestures to Musashi to leave once again... And Musashi suddenly spins around and delivers a powerful savate kick to Hugo's skull, sending the tiny ref bouncing across the canvas and out of the ring! Shocked pop! TD: Takezo Musashi just laid out Hugo Hugo! SR: This is bad, Dross! The Enigma's gone over to the bad, bad place! TD: This will almost certainly result in a fine and perhaps even a suspension for Musashi! Hugo is out cold on the outside, and Musashi is laughing his head off! [The rain of cups and garbage continues as Musashi looks down at the unconscious Hugo, cackling maniacally as Dave D'Amato and Joey Patrick attend to their fallen colleague. Earl Alfonso jabs a finger at the Enigma from the floor, and threatens the Enigma, but Musashi just beckons Alfonso into the ring, offering him more of the same!] TD: I just can't believe the audacity of that man! He's... GOOD LORD! [As Musashi continues to taunt Alfonso, suddenly there is a blur behind him, and the Enigma goes flying into the rope in front of him, bouncing off the rope and out of the ring to the outside! The fans explode with a tumultuous pop as the "Savoir" Simon Lebec, still dazed from the Backdriver Suplex, hangs off the top rope and looks down to the floor where the "Enigma" lies in a heap!] TD: Simon Lebec put Musashi over the top! What an incredible effort from the "Savior"! [As Lebec hangs on the rope, Musashi springs to his feet, livid, and begins hurling a stream of epithets at the French-Canadian, but his angry expression changes to one of alarm as, suddenly, Lebec is flying over the top rope himself, and he crashes into the "Enigma" on the outside of the ring! The crowd goes silent, momentarily confused by these split-second events... And then, the crowd ERUPTS into a Coliseum-rocking pop for Marty Warnett, who staggers around the ring, dazed, after clotheslining Simon Lebec out of the ring! TD: Lebec is out! Lebec is out! Marty Warnett... MARTY WARNETT is the WINNER of the Battle Royal! SR: You gotta be {BLEEP}in' kidding me! [Warnett looks around the ring, shaking the cobwebs from his head, and slowly realises that he is the only man standing on the mat. The Welshman, despite the pain and fatigue, breaks into a huge smile and runs up one of the turnbuckles, pumping his fists into the air in victory! Outside the ring, Musashi is out of control, knocking over the timekeeper's table, throwing chairs around, and screaming at the ringside fans who are jeering and taunting him after his unsuccessful attempt at derailing the battle royal! The Jpbber Justice Squad charges down the aisle and swarms Musashi, who kicks and struggles against the wave of wrestlers, but is quickly overwhelmed, and the JJS drag the screaming Enigma up the aisle and out of the Coliseum!] SR: Marty Warnett? Marty [BLEEP]in' Warnett? TD: That's right, Steve Roberts! Marty Warnett has WON the Battle Royal, and has secured the number-one seed for the upcoming Intercontinental Title Tournament! Simon Lebec fought valiantly throughout this match, despite nagging injuries left over from Ring Wars 5, and I'm sure that he must be happy with his second-place showing, but tonight, it is Marty Warnett who has his arms raised in victory after that incredibly gruelling contest! SR: Okay... I get it now... Spreadbury holds up the title... Marty Warnett wins the Battle Royal... it's a cunning, diabolical conspiracy, Dross! My God, it's all so clear to me now! Come back, MacBean! All is forgiven! TD: _What_ are you talking about, Steve Roberts? SR: You've seen those black helicopters that're always taking off and landing on top of the IIWF Tower, haven't you, Dross? Haven't you? They're all in on it, _all_ the big players... the CIA, FBI, NSA, MI5, Mossad... they're all trying to help Spreadbury set up a puppet Intercontinental Champ who'll do their evil bidding! And Walnut is the perfect dupe! All the time we thought this guy was just sitting on his tired, burnt-out ass, he was actually being programmed to win this battle royal by mind control experts in the bowels of the Pentagon! TD: Ladies and gentlemen, I apologise for the insane rambling of my colleague. We're out of time, but I for one would like to express my congratulations to Marty Warnett, who has emerged here tonight as the sole survivor of the Battle Royal, and will carry the number-one ranking in his quest for the IIWF Intercontinental Title! He'll certainly be in tough, with such stars as Simon Lebec, Timothy N. Turner, Harlequin Tragedy, Christopher Stonebreaker, Jimmy "Meatman" Steele, "Savage" Shadoe Rage, and the "Real Deal" Luke Steele all qualifying tonight, and contending for the belt! So, for my broadcast colleague, "Soundbite" Steve Roberts, this is Tim Dross, saying: so long everybody! SR: Call Oliver Stone, Dross! We gotta put the word to the streets! [Cut back to the ring, where a jubilant Marty Warnett is circling around in the ring, soaking up the cheers of the crowd who pop wildly for the exhausted Party Maniac, as a weary Simon Lebec looks on from ringside, shaking his head in frustration as the scene fades to black.] +=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= 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 -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=+